#or one of them waking up to an empty bed only to find the other in the kitchen making breakfast
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La Cosa Nostra- pt 13
(co-written with @schemmentis): Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12.
Summary: You and your wife spend some much needed time together, only for it to go up in flames.
WC: ~2.5k
When Melissa comes in, she finds you with both arms wrapped around your girls, them curled into your sides. She sees the tracks of the tears that had been pouring down your face earlier in the night, the pout of your bottom lip, the way that even in sleep and holding your girls you seem to be in distress.
Melissa quietly gets ready for bed before slipping in between the sheets. Rosie gladly curls up to her when she gently shifts her to her chest so she can shuffle closer to you. The hand not resting on a small back reaches, the backs of her fingers lightly caressing your cheek, imagining she can wipe the now dried tears away from you. “Ti amo, vita mia.” She whispers in the dark of the bedroom.
You blink awake in the dark a few hours later. Your girls are still softly sleeping. You roll over and nearly start crying again when you see your wife asleep and holding Rosie. You knew she would be home, eventually. Still, seeing her is a relief. You curl in closer to her as you close your eyes again. Maybe you can get an hour or two of actual good sleep now that Melissa is here. Before your girls try to pry your eyes open again.
You somehow manage to wake before either of your girls, or your wife. You convince half awake twins to settle for kissing Melissa's cheek and whispering good morning before you get up and get them breakfast. You don't even have to remind them to be quiet when they go back to do the same to say goodbye before taking them to school. You know they miss her, even after only one late night. You do too. But you'd hate to take any more rest from her.
You hug the girls goodbye at school and are walking across the lot back to your car when your phone rings. Your brow furrows. Your phone hasn't rung since you were taken off the salon. You tug it from your pocket, your confusion growing at Tony's name on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Y/N. Could you come down to the salon? It's kind of important.”
“Isn't all that your job now, Tony?” You all but sneer.
“Look, we gotta talk about some of the financials. So I need you to help me sort it out, alright?”
You roll your eyes. “I'll be there in a minute.” You reluctantly agree, hanging up before Tony can say anything else.
Despite you not being a part of the operation anymore, you still step through the back entrance of the salon. Tony wants to call you in? Then you're going to come in at the business end of it.
You stop halfway down the hall at the door of the back office being open. When it was you; you never left it open and unlocked. Too many important things were kept there. You glance inside, raising an eyebrow at the near emptiness of the office. The file cabinets are gone, and so is everything from on top of the desk. The room is empty aside from that desk in the middle of it.
“There you are.” Tony says as he turns down the hall. “C’mon.” He tugs you lightly by the arm into the office, shutting the door behind him.
“Quite the rearrangement, Tony.” You comment, putting your hands in your pockets as you pace around the desk. “What's goin’ on, huh? What'd you suddenly need me for?”
“The ledger.” Tony says, cutting to the chase. “We need the ledger for the other business.”
You look at Tony, head turning to the side. We? You think to yourself as you study him. Suddenly it's we. And you're not a part of that we. “No.” You finally say.
“What?? What d’you mean no? Look, Y/N, my ass is on the line now, and we need that ledger that you have to have.”
“Oh, I have it.” You say. For all intents and purposes, you do. Only you and your wife know where it is. “I just ain't giving it to you. Tell whoever you're answerin’ to that if they want it; they better talk to me directly. ‘Cause I ain't trustin’ it with you, Tony. I wouldn't have trusted you to balance the cash register drawer.”
He goes to argue, but your phone ringing interrupts him. You roll your eyes at him as you leave, answering it.
“Hello?”
“Babe, where are you? Why didn’t you wake me?” your wife nearly shouts into the phone. “I just woke up!”
“Honey, you needed the sleep,” you tell her softly.
“What I needed was to see my girls off to school and to check on my wife before heading into work- on time!”
Her shouting at you makes you tear up all over again as you slam the door to your car. “I’m sorry. I’ll come pick you-”
“Don’t even bother,” Melissa huffs. “I’ll walk the few blocks.” And then she hangs up on you.
Your heart nearly shatters in your chest, and your eyes instantly well up with more tears that threaten to spill over. “Mel,” you whisper out softly.
You do still drive the way to her work, and when you get there, she’s just storming in. It’s clear she’s on a warpath as she slams the back door and throws her bag on the chair in the office. You step in a few seconds later, sending a sympathetic look at Valentina; she looks horrified.
“Mel,” you whisper as you wrap your arms around her waist, trying to stop her anger. She just shrugs you off. “Mel, please.” Your voice breaks as your heart actually does shatter this time.
She turns around at the hiccup in your voice, and there’s a fire in her eyes that dies out as soon as she sees the redness in your eyes and the tears that are there.
“Mi amore,” she whispers as she pulls you in.
“Mel, I- I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry I didn’t wake you this-”
“Hey,” she hushes you gently. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I got so frustrated and yelled. I just… this all has me stressed to the max, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”
You cry into her shoulder, and your wife is quick to kick the door shut with her heeled foot. You cry just as harshly and abrasively as you did last night, although this time you don’t have to stifle the sobs that come bubbling out of your body.
“Honey,” she whispers as she rubs your back soothingly. “Baby.”
“I- I don’t even know,” you continue to shake with the sobs that rack through your body.
It takes you much longer to calm down than she hopes. But eventually she does, and after checking her progress on the ledger, she ushers you out of the building. She shouts to Valentina that she’s in charge, at least for this morning, and if someone comes in with an envelope full of money to just leave it on her desk.
“Melissa, you can stay,” you whisper as you wipe at your nose with your sleeve. “I’ll be- I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Melissa answers, leading you to the passenger side of your car. “If anything big goes on; Val will call me. Right now, you’re more important, amore.” She squeezes the hand she’s been leading you out by lightly, her head nodding for you to get in.
It’s only once you do that she closes the door for you before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat. She reclaims your hand once you’ve buckled your seatbelt, kissing your knuckles as she pulls out of the parking lot.
“You really could have stayed.” You say quietly.
She squeezes your hand again, glancing away from the road just long enough to raise an eyebrow at you before looking back. “I’m not gonna leave ya when you’re clearly not okay. And don’t go saying you’re fine. I know when you’re lyin’, remember?”
You sigh, leaning back in your seat for the short drive back to your home. “I’m just…over emotional with all the changes. It’ll pass. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll be fine, that much is true.” Mel agrees though she keeps a hold of your hand held in her lap. “But I’m not going to just expect this to pass. It’s been a lot lately, yeah. But it ain’t like you to just…” She sighs, without finishing. “You’re gonna tell me ya weren’t this way last night, too? Before I got home?” She asks softly instead, her thumb gently passing repeatedly over your knuckles.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Melissa nods, with a half grin on her face. “Which just means yes.” She says. “This is more than just everythin’ goin’ on- even if it has been a lot lately. For right now, stop tryin’ to fight me on stayin’ home, and consider talkin’ to me and lettin’ me help instead, huh?”
You don’t say anything else on the rest of the short drive. Instead, you consider everything over in your mind. As if you haven’t already a hundred times. By the time you’re following Melissa into the house, you could have another anxiety breakdown without much push.
You gladly slip into her side on your couch, her arms that had been held out in invitation instantly wrap around you. You sigh, though you don’t begin crying again. You return your wife’s embrace equally, clinging to her as much as you’re curling up to her side.
“Talk to me, tesoro.” Melissa repeats quietly, kissing your temple as she holds you close.
“Did Sammy tell you I almost turned myself in the other week? When they had you in the station?” You can guess her answer before she gives it based on how you feel her briefly freeze against you.
“No.” Melissa finally answers, one of her hands gently rubbing across your shoulders. “He didn’t. Probably ‘cause he already knew I was seconds away from tearin’ somebody to shreds that day. You really almost did?”
You nod, sniffling slightly. “I just…didn’t know what else to do. All this pressure on us and then gettin’ you so involved….them tearing apart Twelve Tables… God, that was as bad as watching somebody beat you, Mel. It’s like the same thing. You worked so hard for it and they ruined it because of me and—”
“Shh,” Melissa murmurs, tugging you into her lap to hug you even tighter. “None of it’s because of you, amore. We talked about all this plenty before we got serious, didn’t we? Then all over again before we got married? Don’t go actin’ like I’m some innocent little housewife over here, huh? You treat me better than that. You treat me like your partner, your equal, in everything. Includin’ all this. I knew what we were gettin’ into when we started, baby. We both did.”
“I know,” you mumble into her side. “But now... it’s so much more than just us and the business. We have your restaurant now. We have the girls now. The only thing that stopped me from turning myself in was the girls. I- I couldn't turn myself in and miss everything for the next ten to twenty years... the teen years, graduating and sending them off to college, high school boy or girl drama... potential grandbabies.”
“If either of them has a baby before they’re twenty, we are going to have problems,” Melissa chuckles lightly.
“Well... if I wasn’t there, you know that data shows kids with one absent parent statistically are more likely to fall into...”
“Not our girls,” your wife states firmly. “If anything happens to one of us, I have full faith that those girls will stay on the right track because of whoever is left with them.”
You just sigh into her, inhaling the scent of the perfume that she has on. You take a few shaky breaths, tears threatening to spill over again. They don’t though. You have your anchor right now.
“What do you need right now?” your wife asks you gently, once your breathing becomes more regulated. “Comfort, a solution, or to just... sit in the shit together?”
You shrug against her, and she only kisses your head as a response. You end up falling asleep, and when you wake up, Melissa is no longer next to you. In fact, the only reason you wake up is because your two tiny terrors are jumping on the couch next to you despite your wife’s quiet protests.
“Girls, let Mam sleep,” you can hear the redhead sigh as she drops their backpacks at the door.
“We are!” Rosie protests. “We just want to cuddle her and make her feel better after last night!”
Your response is to pull them both close to your chest with a soft sigh as you keep your eyes closed. “Mam needs some Cat and Rosie snuggles.”
“‘See?” Cat tells your wife pointedly. “Mam needs us!”
You hear Melissa’s low chuckle before she exhales quietly. “Is Mam going to be okay if I head to the restaurant?”
“Can we come with you?!” Rosie asks. “I miss Auntie Val.”
“Stay with Mam,” you tell them gently as you pull them further into your lap. “Cuddles, some pizza, and-”
“I only like the Pizza that Vince makes at the restaurant,” Cat tells you.
“We can order takeout from Mommy’s restaurant then,” you try to placate.
“Why can’t we just go there?” Rosie whines out as she tries to break free from your hold. For such a small little thing, she sure is strong. She ends up getting out of your restraint, and she’s quick to put her shoes on and grab her backpack before taking hold of Melissa’s hand.
“Girls, why don’t you... go grab some coloring sheets and crayons from the basement?” your wife suggests. They run off.
“They are not going to the restaurant now that it’s the front,” you tell her.
When you expect your wife to agree, she merely shrugs. “There are usually other kids with their parents, and the guys drop off in the back.”
“Melissa!” you say sternly. “My girls are not going to a front!”
“They are our girls,” she tells you firmly. “And I think... I think that if they’re at the restaurant, and the Feds show up, having the girls there will help fool them into thinking we aren’t up to anything.”
“Melissa.”
She just shrugs. “You want them off our backs? I think this is the best way to get them off our backs.”
You go to protest her idea again, but the girls come running back with new boxes of crayons and a multitude of coloring sheets in their hands.
“Come on, sweet things,” she says softly. “We can all go to Twelve Tables.” The redhead takes both of their hands, grabs their backpacks, and leads them out the door. You fume as you follow behind her. You can’t believe she would go against your wishes and make such a big decision on her own.
Tags: @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld
#melissa schemmenti fanfiction#melissa schemmenti fanfic#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti#abbott elementary fanfic#abbott elementary#abbott elementary fanfiction
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It wasn't the first time Eddie woke up to an empty bed after having someone spend the night. But it for sure was the first time it caught him by surprise.
He had been pretty sure things were different, with Steve. There was a real, proper date before they ended up in Eddie's bed together, after all. They held hands, they cuddled, they did all the romantic shit that Eddie used to scoff at and skip right past, before he got to know Steve Harrington. It hadn't felt like it was just about the sex: there had been tender touches and sweet words and soft kisses, and falling asleep in each other's arms afterwards had felt more intimate than anything Eddie had ever experienced before. So it didn't make sense to wake up and see no trace of Steve. No note, not a single piece of evidence that Steve had been there, not even something as dumb as a forgotten sock. Nothing.
As he went through his morning ritual of coffee, cereal and cigarette, he felt confusion make place for anger. By the time he was dressed and looking at himself while brushing his teeth in front of the crappy old bathroom mirror, he wondered how he could ever have been stupid enough to think that Steve would stay. The realization that Steve had apparently only used him to get what he wanted and dropped the act as soon as that happened, made him feel gross. He spit out his toothpaste with way more force than necessary and jumped in his van to tell Steve exactly that Eddie wasn't the kind of guy who tolerated being toyed with like that.
-----
When Eddie barged into Family Video, Steve was standing at one of the shelves with a big pile of tapes in his arms, the store empty and quiet except for some movie playing on the big screen in the background.
He looked up at the sound of the bell, and actually had the audacity to smile a soft, almost tender smile when he saw Eddie coming in.
"Hey there."
And, well, that truly did it for Eddie.
"Hey there?!" he repeated in a loud, shrill voice. "Seriously, Steve? What the hell, man? You sneak out of my bed after making me think what we did actually meant something, and now you greet me with a "hey there" like nothing has even happened?!"
Steve frowned; he looked genuinely surprised. Seriously, had none of the dozens of girls he probably pulled this on ever told him off? Or were they all worth staying for, contrary to Eddie the Freak Munson?
"Wha- What do you mean, making you think it meant something?" Steve stuttered. "It meant something. At least," he shrugged lightly and his cheeks colored into a light shade of pink, "to me it did."
For obvious reasons, Eddie found that a little bit hard to believe.
"Then why the hell did you sneak away at the crack of dawn like it was just some goddamn one-night stand?!"
Steve stared at him for a couple of seconds, his mouth falling open. Eddie had seen him look confused plenty of times before, but never like this - like he was missing something huge.
"I - I was allowed to stay?" Steve finally uttered. And it sounded so genuine, so small, so lost... All Eddie's anger easily got knocked out of him with that one question.
"You thought you weren't allowed to stay?" he asked, in a much softer voice this time.
Steve shrugged, suddenly avoiding Eddie's gaze.
"Yeah, I mean... I just assumed..." He swallowed visibly, seemingly searching for words. Finally, he fixed his eyes back on Eddie's face. "You actually wanted me to stay?" It sounded equal parts confused as hopeful, and the look in his brown eyes was so soft and innocent that it almost broke something inside of Eddie.
"Why the hell did you think I wouldn't?"
"I dunno, I just thought..." He looked away again, to a point just behind Eddie's shoulder as he continued, "Whenever a girl would come to my place, they'd always leave right after we finished. Or when I'd come to theirs, they'd have me leave through the window before their parents would notice. Some of them wanted to cuddle for a bit afterwards, but not, like, the whole night, y'know."
"Fuck, Stevie... I -" Eddie could barely believe what Steve was saying; it truly blew his mind that there were so many people who could have Steve Harrington in their bed and not want to keep him there forever. It made him furious - not at Steve, obviously, but at those girls who had made this perfect boy believe that he wasn't the kind of person people would want to keep around for what came after the sex.
"Falling asleep with you last night... That was the best thing that ever happened to me," he told Steve. It felt vulnerable, to say it out loud, but he knew he had to get it all out in the open. "I mean, don't get me wrong, the things we got up to before falling asleep were also pretty damn mind-blowing..." He couldn't help but chuckle. "But of course I wanted you to stay. I thought that would speak for itself."
"Oh," was the only thing Steve said, just blankly staring at Eddie for a couple of seconds. Then, his eyes widened as Eddie's words finally seemed to sink in. "Shit, Eddie, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to -"
"It's okay," Eddie cut him off. "Can you uh," he nodded towards the video tapes in Steve's hands, "Put those away, please?"
Steve placed the pile on the shelf behind him and Eddie immediately launched himself into his arms, pulling him as close as humanly possible without crushing his bones.
With a surprised Oomph! Steve took a few stumbling steps backwards before he caught his balance again, and hugged Eddie back just as tight.
"I'm really sorry, I messed up," he said, his mouth close to Eddie's ear. "I had no idea. If I had known, I would never have left, seriously. I would've called in sick and made you pancakes, and I would've stayed with you in bed all day."
"It's okay," Eddie repeated. "I mean, it's frankly ridiculous that you'd assume I wouldn't want you around every single fucking morning from now on, but -"
"So can I make it up to you tonight?" Steve interrupted him, an eager undertone to his question. "Or actually tomorrow morning, I guess?"
Eddie leaned back slightly to see Steve's face. He was hesitantly smiling at him, and Eddie gave him a beaming smile in return. Then, he leapt forward again to press an impetuous kiss against Steve's lips.
"How 'bout you make it up to me every day from now on, big boy?"
"I dunno, making you pancakes every day from now on is a bit much, don't you think?"
Eddie laughed. "Then the deal's off, sorry."
"What if we take turns?"
He pretended to think for a moment. "Alright, I think I can live with that," he finally concluded, letting Steve pull him closer again to steal another kiss. And as long as he could taste Steve's lips, he couldn't care less about pancakes.
#look i know we all go crazy for the trope of steddie waking up and being surprised the other is still there#or one of them waking up to an empty bed only to find the other in the kitchen making breakfast#but have something a lil more painful instead i guess#don't mind me rambling about stranger things#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#fruity ficlet
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𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 .
⟣ sypnosis. a nightmare of your lover’s disappearance wakes you from your sleep.
⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. angst, comfort, fluff. takes place after gojo’s unsealed but before dec 24th, bits of spoilers jjk leaks 236 at the end. mentions of death, blood.
⟣ note. based on it’s happening again by agnes obel. coping rn dhmu . . . not proofread bcs i cant read through my tears anyways hope u enjoy im gonna cry myself to sleep now
everyone has to die at one point — not even the strongest of all could avoid that tragical fate. not even the strongest sorcerer you call your lover.
no, not even him. the universe couldn’t spare him. you thought that maybe, it would. maybe fate wouldn’t apply to him. oh, how wrong you were.
blood splatter—a stream of red liquid. right at your feet. right in front of your eyes. a man in half. and not just any regular man;
“satoru !”
your dark surroundings become blurry with tears, your body jolts out of its current dreaming state. you could feel your heart in your chest—in your throat. your brain shut itself off for a few seconds as your eyes try to make out shapes and figures in the room you’re in. your bedroom.
you only then realises that it was all just a gruesome nightmare. a hyperrealistic one at that; one that will haunt you for years.
“hmmh.. ‘m right here, baby.” a groggy voice next to you replies to your yell in agony. the yell that was the shape of your lover’s name leaving your lips—
you instantly turn your head to the right and there he was; the man whom just met death in your dreams. gojo satoru, all alive and well. in your bed, in your presence, in your life.
satoru’s hand aimlessly pats the space next to him in search of your body whilst he rubbed his eyes with the other, trying to adjust his sight to the dark so he could find you. you seemed to be in complete distress. which he does not like.
“it’s okay, shh, shh,” your lover hums, hand finally finding your arm. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you on top of him—your head laying on his chest.
his body was warm. his heartbeat was there. loud and clear in your right ear.
“satoru. . .” a river of tears flows down your cheeks like a dam that has been broken into. your body trembles, lungs feeling like they couldn’t get any air in them from how hard you were sobbing. the pain of losing your loved one; it all came flowing back to you.
satoru frowns, “hey, hey. look at me — sweetheart, c’mon.”
he instantly sits up and pulls you along with him. his hands find your cheeks, tilting your head up. this time it was his turn to feel his heart break in pieces. you looked absolutely distraught. as if you just went through a traumatic experience of some kind. he hated it.
“shit,” satoru mutters under his breath before pulling you into his embrace again, arms circling your waist with his head buried in the crook of your neck, “it’s okay, i’m here now. you’re safe.”
it wasn’t the first time you had nightmares when he was with you. you had them regularly after satoru had gotten sealed in the prison realm for nineteen days—nineteen days of dread for you. of an empty bed, an empty house and an empty life.
when satoru had finally been released from the prison realm it was like a dream come true. a happy dream, that is. not those repetitive, bad ones you have every now and then. you still get those nightmares of your lover being either taken away from you by force or by death itself. your brain couldn’t give you a break — even after his return.
“take a deep breath in,” satoru instructs and sets an example by doing the breathing exercise with you, “hold it for three seconds . . . breathe out for six. mhmm, good—jus’ like that.”
you repeat it a couple more times, sobbing and shaking throughout the entirety of the exercise, but eventually manage to calm down a little. satoru sighs in relief at this;
“you okay, baby?”
you nod weakly and sniff, wanting nothing more than to be held by the man you thought had vanished from your life forever. you had that scare once, when he was sealed, and you never want to go back to those dark times. ever.
“it’s— i, just—“ you hiccup once, unable to complete entire sentences, “i thought you w-were gone. i thought you had died.”
it was silent after that (except for the sound your silent sobs and sniffles). satoru had guessed by now that you saw him die in your dream — that much was pretty obvious. but, the thought that you were this distressed because of it makes him. . . happy in a way.
happy that someone would mourn over him at least.
“well,” satoru pensively replies, hands rubbing your back up and down soothingly, “everyone has to meet their end one day, you know?”
that sentence was one that was meant to lighten up the grim mood somehow. one of his many lighthearted remarks that were supposed distract you from your tears. it would work during other moments like these — were you’d be too baffled by the things satoru says to care about what you were crying for — yet today it only worsens your misery.
“shut up.” you weakly punch his chest to which the white haired male chuckles softly, his slender fingers instantly interlocking with yours. satoru’s thumb brushes against your wrist before pulling it up to his lips, placing ticklish kisses among your skin.
another silence hangs in the air.
“seriously though. . . if i were to somehow die, i’d want you to live and move on, yeah?” your lover whispers in such a quiet tone that it was almost inaudible. satoru had looked death right in the eye before — he didn’t care back then if it were actually his end.
he does now. he has the world to lose — his world — his everything. you.
satoru wants to live a happy life with you. he doesn’t want to die now that he has you. the love of his life which he wants to grow old with. maybe have kids with. start an own family away from the busy streets, away from the swarming curses in the city and away from all that sorcerer stuff. it was a nice dream.
“shut it!” you huff and satoru takes another weak punch to the chest. his gaze lands upon your tear struck face and he instantly drops the serious ‘act’.
the sorcerer laughs, his usual boyish laugh that makes you feel better, and he flips you both over so that he has you pinned underneath him. satoru grins before kissing your tummy all over, making you giggle from the ticklish feeling;
“i’m playin’, baby! i’m not going anywhereeee!” he promises through wet pecks against your skin, the smile on his evident even if you couldn’t see it — you could hear it in his voice.
satoru leaves your tummy and moves on to your neck and face. he was smothering you in affection in hopes you’d cheer up some way. he just wants you to forget about anything bad happening to him. you didn’t deserve to think about all that stuff — you deserve to be happy and full of joy.
even without him one day.
“i’d never leave my princess all alone.” satoru shakes his head and pouts dramatically, “who else is gonna spoil you? or kiss and cuddle you to bed, huh?”
you finally show an ounce of joy. a tiny smile. that was all satoru had needed to see. he wasn’t going to stop there, however. his goal was to turn that small smile into a full blown fit of laughter.
“i’m one of a kind, baby. you’re never gonna meet a man like me.” he continues with a proud grin, putting all of his body weight on top of you which causes you to groan and grumble a lighthearted complain.
satoru knows you like it whenever he clings to you and thus he uses that piece of knowledge to help you feel better. his head was buried into your shoulder, limbs enveloping your body like a koala.
“whatever.” you roll your eyes and snuggle up to your lover, closing your eyes as the tiredness hits your body after all that crying.
“whatever !” satoru mocks you in a high-pitched tone, followed by a pair of giggles from the two of you. a third and final punch to the chest finally shuts him up for the rest of the night.
the sorcerer made sure you had fallen asleep first before he whispered the next words in your ear, hoping they’d calm your mind and body so that no nightmares would ever bother you again;
“don’t you worry, sweets. i’m not leaving you. ever.”
. . .
those were the same exact words satoru wished he could utter to you one last time before the current date — 24th of december.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk fic#jjk fluff#jjk angst#gojo x you#jjk x you#gojo angst#jjk comfort#jjk spoilers
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BEST PART OF MY DAY - KENTO NANAMI
✴︎ summary: on a bad day, you give nanami just what he needs, and remind him why you are truly the best part of his day.
✴︎ contents: pure domestic fluff, reader and nanami are married, taking care of nanami the way he deserves, making breakfast for nanami
✴︎ wc: 795
“What can I do?” you whisper, whisper in his ear, because you know Kento is having a bad day. You know that he’s having a bad day from the way his shoulders tense and his lips are in a tight line, instead of curled in that small smile.
“Don’t,” he shakes his head simply, running his fingers through his hair, “I’m okay, sweetheart,”
And you know that certainly means that he’s not.
“Are you?” You sit beside him on the couch, one leg tucked under the other, curled up beside him, “because I’m pretty sure you’re not,” you place your chin on his shoulder, “come on, there must be something, even if it’s—“
And he’s pulling you into his arms, leaning back on the couch, your body beside him, as he buries his face in your chest, “baby,” you run your fingers through his hair, “is this—“
“You’re everything, do you know that, love?” His words are soft, but the impact is heavy, warmth flooding your body at his words, “just a few words from you, and I feel my fatigue melt away, how’s that possible?”
“New jujutsu technique?” And he snorts, “should I tell Gojo?”
“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, leaning up to press a kiss to your lips, and you smile against his touch, tasting the hint of bitter coffee and the faint taste of melon bread on his lips, “how’re so perfect?” And he’s nosing the nape of your neck, pressing sweet kisses.
“Well you deserve only the best, Nanami Kento, and what is better than me?” You say teasingly, and he chuckles, a quiet rumble that makes you nearly shiver.
“Nothing I can think of,” and you’re running your fingers through his hair again and again, pressing sweet kisses to his brow, and his eyes are growing heavy, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to put me to sleep,”
“Maybe I am, think my husband needs some sleep,” you kiss him softly, “dream about Malaysia, only a few months away,”
“Not soon enough,” he murmurs, “but you’re all I need, my vacation,”
You chuckle, pressing sweet kisses to his forehead, “Your 5 to 9?”
“With no overtime,” he sighs, as you snort, before he’s looking up at you, “the best part of my day,”
And he’s falling asleep, slipping into the sandman’s grasp, and he only wakes underneath a blanket, in the soft sheets of his bed, morning light streaming in. He blinks sleep from his eyes, a small groan in his throat, as he reaches beside him for you, but only finds an empty space.
His breath catches — where were you? Panic grips him, until he listens — hearing the quiet sounds of pans and spoons clinking, the soft sounds of your humming, as he slowly settles back, easing himself back into bed for a moment, before slipping from bed.
He comes out to find you only in one of the blue button ups you had “borrowed” from him - one of three you had on rotation, giving them back only when you had washed them. You were humming along to music playing softly on your phone, as you cooked — you had seemingly picked up his favorites from the bakery nearby and even were making some scrambled eggs for the both of you.
How did he get so lucky?
He sneaks up on you, his arms curling around your middle, as you jump slightly, before relaxing into his touch, “Kento, I didn’t wake you, did I?” And he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek — you smelt so good, like lavender, apples, freshly baked bread — “baby—“
“No, I just woke up when I didn’t feel you beside me,” he sighs into the nape of your neck, “did you stop by the bakery?”
“Yes and I think the worker has a crush on you,” you chuckle, as he hears the click of the stove turning off, “she asked about you,” and you turn to face him, lips curled in a teasing smile, “you interested?”
“No, I’m only interested in my wife,” he hums, finding your lips in a kiss, his lips curling, “my very beautiful wife,”
“Oh, I’m beautiful? What else am I?” You tease, but then he’s tilting your chin up, lips pressing to your forehead first.
“Lovely,” he murmurs, as his lips move to one cheek, and then the other, “honest,” lips finding your nose, “far too kind,” and then your lips again, “perfect,”
“Kento…” and he’s kissing you in earnest now, his hand cupping your cheek, while his other arm curls around the small of your back, “shouldn’t we have breakfast?”
And he only smiles, speaking before finding your lips again, “it can wait, I have to start my day with the best part of it, don’t I?”
✴︎ a/n: i woke up to all the edits of nanami and i'm depressed to say the least. but it's okay he's in malaysia with us, right? denial, denial is my only option.
✴︎ taglist: @ethereal-softie, @glaceliy, @yumihisusupermacy
#sab [mlist]#nanami kento x reader#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami x you#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x y/n#kento nanami x y/n#nanami x reader#nanami x you#kento nanami fanfiction#nanami kento fanfiction#nanami fluff#kento nanami fluff#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction
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rafe’s the jealous type, though you had never seen it coming. he was your friend, just like topper and kelce, but somehow, it was never really like it was with the other two. you tried to ignore it for as long as you could, for the sake of the friendship, but it was getting to be too much.
you weren’t even his friend first. working as a summer intern for topper’s mom had led to a few chance encounters already with the boys when they’d drop by. it wasn’t until his mom insisted he take you along that you got to know them a little bit more. you were surprised at how well the four of you got along, even though rafe seemed opposed to you tagging along at first.
but you think you’d won him over in the next few weeks, and now months later, you could easily argue that you were the closest with rafe now. it was pretty apparent—he drove you everywhere, picked you up first and let you have permanent shotgun. when you need to crash after the party runs late, you always end up back at tannyhill, topper and kelce passed out on the couch downstairs or the floor of the guest room, always leaving the bed empty since they think you’ll be crawling in—though you never do. no, you’re asleep next to rafe on his bed, tangled limbs and sheets, waking up wondering if cuddling with your best friend was normal for everyone.
but you’ve never really had guy friends, so you ignore some of the warning signs. you think they’re overprotective, overcaring. you shove aside the thought creeping up, reminding you that only rafe acts like that towards you. you’ve convinced yourself it’s normal.
you’re always invited to tee time—though you mostly sit in the cart with your legs resting on the dash, reading your book and daydrinking. you think the outfits are cute, tiny golf skirts and matching caps, and it gave you an excuse to take the boys shopping—your favorite activity.
rafe steps away to take a call and comes back to find you on the course, hands slowly trying out a nine-iron while kelce stands behind you, trying to guide your position.
“no, plant your feet. firm, and then when you swing, twist like this-” it only takes another second, kelce’s hands barely settling on your waist to help you move, when rafe snaps.
“you’re shit at golf anyways, kelce, why’re you showin’ her?” you’re a little taken aback that he’s being so mean, but kelce just rolls his eyes, walking over to top while rafe heads to you.
rafe doesn’t hesitate at all, doesn’t try to be polite and not creepy like kelce was. his hands go straight on your waist, lower to your hips. he presses himself right behind you, taking your hands in his to help you swing. with his help, you actually hit the golf ball this time, sending it flying in the distance. you squeal, jumping up and down and hugging rafe. you don’t catch the way kelce and topper exchange a look.
other days it’s a little more confusing. you think rafe just changes his mind a lot.
you pack enough lunch for an army—which is just a necessity with the way these boys eat. topper’s just gotten some new fancy boat, and sarah’s busy so he invites you and kelce to take it for a spin instead.
“rafe’s not coming?” you question on the phone, looking at the strawberries and peaches you’d cut up specially for him. you don’t know why you feel so disappointed—top says he’s busy with his dad, which is more important. your mood dampens up a little but picks up soon—you love spending time with kelce and topper anyways! you think you’re single-handedly fixing tops’s relationship with sarah and turning kelce into boyfriend material for this girl he’s had a crush on forever.
at the marina, you walk around looking for this new boat, the words top had used to describe it meaning little to you. you’re a little dolled up already, a pretty white coverup hiding a yellow bikini, a new one you’d just gotten. actually, rafe had bought it for you. he said he wanted you to have it.
“what you lookin’ for, kid?” you hear a familiar voice call out from behind you. you turn to see rafe, stepping off the druthers onto the dock with you.
“i thought top said you’re busy?” you ask, looking around.
“i am. what’re you doin’ here?”
“top said he’s bringing his new boat out. i’m supposed to meet kelce and him here but i can’t find it, wake, uh, something. i packed lunch,” you finish, holding up the picnic basket. “but i know he said you can’t come, such a bummer-”
“i’m comin’.”
“huh? he just told me-”
“i’m takin’ the druthers out. c’mon, hop on. i bet those idiots sunk that thing already.”
you end up spending the whole day on boat with rafe—reading your book and eating slices of peach while talking to rafe about everything under the sun. top and kelce blow up your phone but you don’t even see it until you pick it up to take a picture of the sunset.
you finally realize something’s going on at the house party at kelce’s. rafe picks you up and you play with the skinny straps of your dress, wondering how to tell him what you’re thinking. he’s a good friend though—he always knows when you get like this.
“spit it out, kid. what?”
“well, i was thinking maybe i should crash at kelce’s tonight.”
“why?” he questions, like it’s the stupidest thing in the world. you don’t catch the way his grip tightens on the wheel.
“well, last night.. everyone was saying it’s weird that i always crash at yours. and kelce always offers, he’s got that pull out bed-”
“y’not sleepin’ at kelce’s. or top’s.”
“why not?”
“‘cause i said so. don’t ask again.” and though you’re used to getting your way, you listen. at the party once you get a few drinks in you, you find your way back to the sofa where rafe’s exchanging packets of white powder for cash. you end up next to him, legs splayed over his and dress riding up, watching kelce and topper play pong with some people you don’t recognize.
“m’tired,” you mumble, playing with your empty red solo cup. only rafe hears you.
“shouldn’t have drank so much so fast. what’s wrong with you, hm?”
“just tryna feel better.. and you won’t let me try coke so-”
“shut up about the coke. not gettin’ anywhere near the stuff.”
“you let kelce and top do it-”
“you’re not kelce and top. how much clearer do i have to make it?” your eyes fill with tears—you’re trying so hard to not be such a girl, but everyone has their limits.
“well, you’re not my boyfriend, so i don’t have to listen to you-” it comes out louder, getting the attention of your friends. kelce and topper exchange a look, wondering if what they’ve been waiting for is about to happen. you don’t want them to see you cry, so you run off into the opposite direction towards kelce’s empty room.
“nice going, rafe.”
“yeah, man, she’s definitely gonna fall in love with you after that.”
“shut up.”
rafe follows you, knows where you went. he knocks on the door, twisting the handle even before you get a chance to respond.
“go away, rafe.” you sit on kelce’s bed, staring down at your shoes. rafe come and crouches near you, putting his hands on your knees to keep you firmly in place, even though you try to pull away.
“hey, c’mon, kid. m’sorry. there, you happy now?”
“you’re a dick. leave me alone-”
“i’m fuckin’ trying, here, okay-” you stand up, pushing him away.
“trying to do what? make our friendship all weird? mission-fucking-accomplished, because i can tell you don’t want me around, so i’m-” you get interrupted, rafe rushing up to you and forcing you into a kiss. his arms tighten around your waist, holding you hard. you melt into his touch, kissing him back. things are making more sense now.
“and watch your mouth with me.”
“shut up. you don’t know anything.” you lean back for another kiss.
“guys,” kelce yells out from outside the door. “please do not have sex on my bed.”
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Together with you | Azriel
(Lonely with you pt. 2)
summary: heart break sucks. Missing your friend sucks even more. It is mind-blowing what a little open communication can do.
words: 4.1k
warnings: angst with happy ending, terrible communication at parts (sorry), mention of alcohol consumption, fluff, just general misery, neutrally described reader/no reader description, no use of y/n, dumb idiots in love
notes: so this got a lot more angsty than first anticipated, but here it is! Not sure how I feel about it, I like some parts, not so sure about others - feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!
part 1
Cold. Your bed was freezing cold. And empty.
Like lying on a frozen slab of stone, utterly alone and undeniably pathetic. Just as alone and pathetic as yesterday, when you woke up on the couch in the living room. No Azriel in sight. Like he wasn’t the one to practically beg you not to leave him alone, and then he went and did that exact thing to you.
It was humiliating. You were humiliated.
And that was why you had avoided him like he was contagious for all of yesterday, burying yourself in paperwork or hiding away in the library. But your plan was far from foolproof, you’d barely made it through yesterday without seeing him, so today had to be different. If being close to you was so shameful he had to sneak away before you had a chance to wake, you would simply remove yourself from the situation and spare yourself some Gods damned dignity.
You had already written to Mor, your excuse of needing to get away from the happily mated couple for a few nights only a half lie. You were in desperate need of a good night’s rest, however that was not the most pressing issue at hand. But there was no need for her to know that. Yet. She would find out eventually, she always did, and you would be stupid to expect otherwise.
Two hours past sunrise should mean that the Valkyrie training would be full and well underway, and thus it would be safe for you to make your escape. You got the things you’d need and made your way up the stairs to one of the smaller balconies overlooking the training ring. You knew you really shouldn’t, because what good would it do? But you had to. Just a quick glance. Quietly you moved towards the railing, scanning the people below.
There he was, a thing of graceful, terrifying beauty. He seemed to be demonstrating a movement with a training sword for some of the priestesses. He moved with such fluidity, wielding the sword in his hand as if it was an extension of himself. He was like death on swift feet. A fallen angel, a dark prince.
He was beautiful.
You must have accidentally made a sound, because his head shot up and his eyes zeroed in on you. Oh Gods. The intensity in his gaze, and the increasing pressure in your chest was too much. He didn’t want you.
You staggered back, one little step and you had winnowed yourself down to the city streets. This was good, you needed to get away. He left you alone. He drew back first. You knew all of this, so why did it hurt such an unreasonable amount?
You rubbed your chest in hopes of getting rid of the tightness that seemed to have moved in there since yesterday morning, and then you set course towards the one stop you had to make before getting to Mor’s.
-
It had been three days since you arrived at Mor’s apartment with a paper bag filled with the sweetest, sugar-powdered pastries your favourite bakery had to offer. It had taken you both approximately 20 minutes to devour them all, after which you no longer had anything to distract your friend from digging up the truth behind your visit.
You were in love with someone who did not harbour the same feelings towards you. And you desperately needed to get away from him, to save what remained of your heart.
You had cried, drank some wine, and then cried a little more. You went back to the bakery for more pastries the next day, and the cycle repeated.
The crisp, early-spring wind was a menace today as you were on your, now daily, pastry run. You were trying to stop your hair from whipping around like a being possessed, cursing up a storm, when you heard him call your name.
You froze to the spot, like his voice was some primal command. That insufferable tightness in your chest was as present as ever as you forced yourself to put on your brave face and turned towards him.
There he was, jogging towards you, his brow furrowed.
“Hey,” Azriel breathed as he came to a stop in front of you. His shadows swirled out in your direction, but retracted before they had a chance to reach you.
“Hi,” you mumbled back, suddenly finding the cobbled street very interesting.
He cleared his throat and took a step closer. You took one backwards. The cobblestone looks different here than in the alley by the bakery.
“I haven’t seen you in a while… you haven’t been home – at the House, I mean,” he coughed lightly. I wonder if it was made with, like, a different technique? Or maybe the stones are just differently shaped or something?
“Yeah, no, I’ve been staying with Mor for a bit.” It’s definitely mossier on the smaller streets, maybe that’s why? It just shifts the perspecti–
“Angel, please look at me.”
You didn’t want to, Gods you didn’t want to. But alas, you seemed to have no power when it came to Azriel.
Any other day, the worry swimming in those hazel eyes would have melted your heart. Today, it just hurt. “Did I do something? Is that why you… haven’t been around?”
You scoff, “No, you didn’t do anything, Azriel. It’s fine.”
“It’s obviously not fine! I haven’t seen you in days, and now you can barely look at me?” He exclaimed, exasperation clear in his voice. “Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped, or made you uncomfortable – but I miss my friend,” his hands twitched where they rested at his sides, shadows swirling around him with unease.
“Oh, please,” his brows furrowed further at the dry laugh that escaped you, “Are you being serious, Az? I fell asleep in your arms, after you pleaded with me to stay with you – and then I woke up alone.” His face fell. “How do you think that feels? I mean, you must know how I feel about you!” You cursed yourself for the way your voice quivered, and that damned burning feeling behind your eyes that you were so sick of.
“What– no, I didn’t– what do you–,” he stuttered. He actually stuttered. The spymaster of the Night court couldn’t even come up with an excuse for being an ass.
“Save it. I get it – you were lonely, we’ve all been there,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I have to go.”
You turned back in the direction of Mor’s apartment, pastries be damned. You just had to get away.
Azriel had other plans though. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, the cool wisps of shadows snaking up your forearm. You couldn’t help the way you recoiled from his touch, how it seemed to ignite every nerve in your arm.
“Wait–,”
“NO!” A sob wracked your body. “No, just leave me alone, Az. Can’t you tell that you’re hurting me?” His face twisted in time with your words, and tears pricked your eyes. “Being around you hurts!”
His shadows were whipping violently around him, but he was as still as death itself. Something like dread and confusion were clouding his eyes.
He called after you as you walked away. But he didn’t stop you, nor did he try to follow you. And you didn’t dare look over your shoulder, too scared you might run back and give him the rest of your heart, shattered as it may be. No, instead you carried the shards in your hands, tears rolling down your cheeks, one after the other.
You weren’t sure how you were ever going to be okay.
-
The bedroom door creaked open, and you pulled the duvet further over your head.
“Hey sleepyhead,” Mor said in a sing-song voice. You weren’t sleeping.
“I’m not asleep,” you muttered, huffing loudly at the giggle that escaped her.
“Yeah, well, calling you a crybaby would be insensitive so I went for the next best thing.”
Her comment made the corners of your lips twitch, and you silently cursed her for always knowing how to cheer you up. You had gotten quite comfortable in your misery.
You pulled the covers down and looked over at where she stood. Your chest grew uncomfortably tight when you saw what was in her hands.
“Another one?” You asked and rolled over to face the window. You had forgotten how stubborn he was. Competitive bastard.
“Yes, and they just seem to get bigger and bigger. I like the daffodils in this one though, very spring-esque. The other ones didn’t have any daffodils,” she mused as she walked in and headed towards the far end of the room, most likely towards the dresser. It was the only surface area not currently taken up by a bouquet.
This was the sixth bouquet he’d sent. In three days. He had turned Mor’s guest room into a damn flower shop. Just being in a ten feet proximity of this room would have sent Cassian into a sneezing frenzy.
“Remember that time in Elain’s garden, when you told me daffodils were your mom’s favourite flower? That she called you her little daffodil when she carried you in her womb? They are very beautiful – just like you.
“Yours, Azriel.” Mor read the note before carefully putting it back with the flowers.
Every set of flowers had come with its own handwritten note. He had apologised in the first one, the rest told you he missed you, recalling memories of moments you’d shared. Each one ended with a heartfelt compliment, one that brought tears to your eyes every time, without fail.
Mor let out a slight sigh. “I am fully on your side here, and I don’t want to pressure you into anything, but… are you sure you don’t want to talk to him? I know you’re hurt, and you have every right to be, but… he’s a good male and he likes you – a lot.”
She’s right. You figured that out two days ago. But your pride was wounded, and your trust had been betrayed, and it stung.
However, somewhere along when the initial pain had started to diminish it had slowly but surely gotten replaced by the agony of missing him. Now you didn’t know what part of the pain came from what, you only knew that it hurt.
But Gods, you really did miss him – more and more by the minute. You missed him in your bones; your best friend, your partner in crime, the male you loved.
“Alright, you don’t have to say anything. I have to visit Rhysand to go over some work though, and I won’t be home until late tonight, probably. There is food and tea in the kitchen, or you can go down to the pub downstairs and ask them to make you something. Just… make sure to go there earlier in the evening to avoid drunken idiots, okay?” You rolled over to look at your friend, who once again proved herself to be way better than you deserved. You nodded.
“Thank you,” you whispered and her lips curved upwards in a soft smile.
“Of course, take care of yourself,” she said, that warm smile still intact as she made her way out of the room, closing the door behind her.
After dragging out your stay in bed a few more minutes, the thought of a warm cup of tea became too enticing to ignore. Chucking on a thick sweater you dragged your feet out of the bedroom.
Once in the kitchen, you put the kettle on the stove and went in search of some tea. Where was the one Mor made you yesterday? The one that felt like drinking a warm, spiced hug – you needed that one right now. You found it in one of the cupboards just in time for the water to start boiling. So you made your cup of tea, drizzled in a little bit of honey, and walked out to the living room. You had just put your tea down and made your way over to the wall of bookshelves to pick out a new story to escape into when there was a knock on the door.
The way your entire body froze, yet seemed to come alive at the same time, signalled you knew who it was. How your body and soul could possibly know it was Azriel on the other side of that door, you weren’t sure. But alas, as you crossed the living room towards the entryway and tugged the front door open, there he was.
He looked tired. His eyes seemed uncharacteristically old, his skin dull and the bags under his eyes were undeniable. Despite this he still managed to look as breath-taking as always.
Those tired eyes met yours, and you swore you felt time stop. He was here. Your Azriel.
Except he wasn’t yours, was he? A truth that only stung worse when your name fell from his lips. But seeing him here, like this… you could live with never having him, you thought. As long as he was in your life, if only as a friend.
That’s why you breathed out a “hi,”, and opened the door wider, a silent invitation to step inside. His shoulders sagged in relief as he stepped over the threshold.
“Hey,” Azriel whispered on a shaky breath, as you closed the door behind him. You stood in silence for a minute, neither of you apparently knowing what to say.
Azriel was the first to break the silence, “so, uh– did you get the…”. Bouquets is what he didn’t say, but he didn’t have to.
“Yeah, yeah I did,” you mumbled, never really meeting his eyes. “Pretty.”
“Yeah? Okay,” you could see him nodding out of the corner of your eye. “Good.”
You raised your gaze to meet his, and your heart clenched. You just wanted things back to the way they were, you wanted your friend back. Because standing here in front of him, not knowing what to say was awful. So you did the only thing you could think of…
“I miss you.” Your voice wavered more than you’d ever care to admit, but there it was – the truth.
Azriel’s shoulders visibly shuddered at your confession. “Oh, angel,” it was your time to shudder. “I’ve missed you too, so much. I’m so sorry,” his eyes glazed over as he continued, “but please believe me when I say that I did not know – about how you felt. And maybe that makes me stupid, and blind, and oblivious–”
“No,” you interrupted him, “you’re not any of those things, Az.” His deprecating words wounded you so deeply, a heavy sadness filling your chest.
“I should have known. I never would have– I wouldn’t have been such a coward if I knew.” You swore you heard the remnants of your heart crack.
“Azzy…” You stepped towards him and reached up to cradle his face in your hands. His own hands flew up to your wrist and you prepared for him to reject your touch.
Only he didn’t.
Instead he gently held your hands in place and leaned into your touch in a manner so tender your breath hitched in your throat. His thumbs swiped across the backs of your wrists.
“I’m sorry, I got all up in my head and I–,” you didn’t let him finish.
“It’s okay Azriel, I forgive you.” His posture straightened a little as you continued, “I’m sorry too.”
You felt a tear roll down your cheek, and before you could even register it happening, Azriel had pulled you into a hug. He wrapped an arm around your waist, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he held you against his chest. He was so warm, and comfortable, and safe, and one tear became two, became three. All the while, Azriel held you, wings enveloping you in a cocoon as he whispered sweet nothings into your hair.
After what felt like hours, but was merely just minutes, Azriel dropped his wings from around you and as you felt his arms ease their hold on you, you took half a step back. His hand that had cradled the back of your head now cupped your cheek, the other came to rest on your hip.
You dried your tears, ungracefully wiping snot from your nose, and you once again lifted your head in search of those hazel eyes you had grown so in love with. And as your gazes locked – that’s when you felt it.
Like the snap of a bowstring, dead center in the middle of your chest, that glowing, golden thread locked into place – forever connecting your soul with the male across from you.
The impact was so intense you staggered back, knocking into the end table behind you. Your hand flew up to your chest, fingers clutching the fabric of your sweater as you tried to make sense of what just happened.
Azriel is your mate.
Does he know? Does he even want you? A thousand thoughts swarmed your head, but they were all overpowered by one: mate. He was your mate.
Azriel stood, one arm still partially outstretched, eyes wide and brow furrowed. Something like bewilderment filled you to an overwhelming degree, and it took you a moment to realise that the feelings did not belong to you. They were all Azriel, unable to keep his emotions from bleeding across the bond to you.
“You’re my–,” you stuttered.
“Yes,” he breathed in response.
“I– I’m your–”
“Yes,”
“You knew?” His eyes shuttered at your question.
“Yes,”
You had to sit down.
You wobbled over to the couch and dropped down. You didn’t even realise he’d followed you until you felt the seat dip beside you.
He seemed to realise words were not something currently in your possession, and took it upon himself to start to explain.
“You were sleeping, had been for probably an hour at least, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I have–,” he swallowed and his whole body shook as he professed his next words. “I have been in love with you since the moment I saw you. When Rhysand introduced you to everyone and you were trying to sneak glances at all of us, thinking you were being discreet. You weren’t – quite the opposite actually.” You turned your head to look at him. One of those rare smiles decorated his face as he recalled the memory. “I think everyone noticed, but no one said anything. They were all probably as smitten by you as I was. Not only were you so adorable, you were the most divine female I had ever seen. Your eyes shone so brightly, and you radiated such calmness, such security – like every problem that had ever been wasn’t so bad after all. Like everything was always going to be fine, as long as you were around. You looked heavenly. Like an angel.” He whispered the last part and as his eyes met yours you sucked in a breath at the emotion swimming in them.
Angel. His dedicated pet name for you. What he had been calling you, and only you, since that very first day. Not only were you the only person with that specific pet name – you were the only one of Azriel’s friend to even have a pet name, you realised. Sure, he referred to Rhysand and Cassian as his brothers. But you were his angel.
“You love me?” You croaked, fresh tears filling your eyes.
“Yes, I do.” You hiccupped, face twisting as your chest filled to the brim with so many emotions you could not possibly name them all. He took your hands in his, and gave them a light squeeze as he continued, “When we were on that couch I was just… watching you. Holding you. Realising how perfectly you fit in my arms, when you moved. You snuggled deeper into my chest, like being close to me was an instinctual need, and then you sighed, and you smiled in your sleep – and I couldn’t breathe,” he took a deep breath, “that’s when the bond snapped.” You wanted to reach out and smooth out that crease between his eyebrows. Instead you just moved closer to him, pressed yourself into his side, and when he looked down at you, you gave it your best at pushing some of that endless love you held for him down that glittering bond.
A sharp exhale left his parted lips and he gave your still entwined hands another squeeze. When he looked at you his cheeks were tinged with pink, the tips of his ears flushed.
He loved you.
He was your mate and he loved you.
“I was so shocked. Why would it snap now and not earlier?” He shook his head, his eyes not once leaving yours. “Then I started to… doubt myself,” his brows furrowed deeper, “what if you didn’t want me? I didn’t even know if you knew. Knew and… and decided you didn’t want to be with me. The Gods know I don’t deserve you.”
You couldn’t help the broken whimper that escaped you as you listened to this wonderful male voice how lowly he thought of himself.
“Don’t say that Azriel,” you croaked, your voice thick from crying. “I love you so much. I look at you and my heart fills to a point where I genuinely think it might burst,” you coughed out an attempt at a laugh. “You are a good male, and I could not imagine a greater honour than the Mother choosing you as my mate.”
A single tear rolled down Azriel’s cheek at your confession. You untangled your hands from his, instead crawling into his lap. This wonderful male, and he was all yours. The love that filled your chest felt so secure, so safe. Like the warmth of the morning sun. Like the smell of freshly baked bread, and early morning bird song. It felt like the beginning of something great.
You raked your hands through his hair, and as you leaned in to kiss that lone tear away from his jaw, you watched his eyes shutter closed.
“I love you,” you whispered against his lips, your forehead coming to rest against his, “my mate.”
His hands found your hips and gripped them tightly, and the touch was more than welcomed. If it was up to you to decide, he would never let you go – forever in each other’s embrace.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered once more, breath hot against your lips. “I shouldn’t have–… please don’t leave me again.”
“Never,” you promised, and then, like waves crashing ashore, you leaned in that last bit and pressed your lips to his.
His entire body shook beneath you as he reciprocated the kiss, moulding his lips to yours and you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly right it felt. Like coming home. And as your lips moved together that glowing thread became a wild, real, physical thing between you. His hands gripped you tighter, like you were his lifeline. Pulling you impossibly closer, as if you were the air he needed to breathe. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip and your lips parted, letting your tongues meet in the most delicious of ways.
The kiss was claiming, overpowering and you could not help the whine that escaped you as his fingers dug into your sides. A primal growl rattled deep in his throat, alighting every nerve in your body.
This.
You wanted to stay right here, just like this, forever.
-
You didn’t know how long you actually did stay like that – the two of you seemed to, again, be able to defy the concept of time together. But you were now laying on the couch, Azriel’s heart drumming a steady beat in your ear, a warm, overwhelming comfort overtaking your body.
Slowly, you started to feel yourself drifting off to sleep, and with your head on his chest, his arms around you, the opening and closing of the front door and Mor’s voice that followed, felt so very far away. You almost didn’t apprehend what she said as her voice moved in closer.
“You better not leave her this time,” she ordered, and the rumble of Azriel’s voice, how very safe it made you feel, lulled you deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.
Your body was impossibly heavy, the words he mumbled into your hair the last thing you registered before sleep claimed you.
“I won't,” he pressed a kiss to your head, “never again.”
tags: @hnyclover @justdreamstars @historygeekqueen @sharknutz @icey--stars @mel-wcst @alysena2 @lewsnumerounofan
#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel angst#azriel fluff#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#a court of thorns and roses#azriel fanfic#azriel imagine#lonely with you
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it’s your scream that wakes him up. a shrill cry that has zoro jerking upright and latching onto the hilt of his swords.
it takes him barely a minute to get to you, calling out your name as he enters your shared room where he finds you wide eyed and backed into a corner.
“what’s wrong?”
a quick scan of the room comes up empty for intruders so he returns his attention to you, closing the distance between you two with a few steps.
there were intruders. just not the human kind.
“c-cockroach!” you cry, pointing towards the corner of the room where sure enough, there’s a cockroach scuttering past.
zoro turns to you, unimpressed. it’s a tiny thing that hardly called for this level of reaction. it most definitely didn’t warrant cutting his mid afternoon nap short.
“seriously? i thought you were dying.” sleep still clings to his voice making it more rough than usual.
your frenzied eyes move back and forth from the cockroach to the swordsman. “please zoro, if you love me you’ll-“ a squeal cuts off your pleading when another one decides to make an appearance. with nowhere left to run, you just push yourself further into the corner, shutting your eyes.
before your scream comes to an end, zoro’s taken care of the situation, disposing off the offending creatures before returning to you.
“god, such a crybaby.” he grumbles, pulling you towards him. a warm palm settles on your back, rubbing up and down between your shoulder blades. “it’s gone now, okay? it’s dead.”
you peer at zoro through your lashes. “both of them?”
“yes, both of them.”
although his words comfort you, you seek further solace in his embrace, grabbing the fabric of his t shirt and nestling into his chest as he continues running up and down your back.
a few seconds pass before zoro pulls back, remembering something. “i thought you were going out?” he asks, recalling the lively chatter over breakfast as the straw hats made plans to explore the port town they were docked in for the next few days.
“I decided to stay in, thought you might appreciate some company.” you grin, mood perking up now that the cockroaches were dealt with.
zoro rolls his eyes, sassy man that he is, and you suddenly find yourself thrown over his shoulder.
“what i would appreciate is going back to my nap.” he huffs, making his way towards your shared bed.
giggling, you give his firm bottom a few pats. “of course, my hero deserves some rest.”
zoro tolerates it all with a smirk playing on his lips, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze. when he reaches the end of the bed, he drops you onto the mattress, chuckling mildly at the disgruntled noise you make. he makes quick work of removing his swords, resting them on their usual spot against the bedside table, before joining you.
it’s only when you’re tucked into zoro’s side that you pipe up again, lifting yourself to rest on your elbows, feeling playful. “zoro?”
he can already tell this isn't about to be a normal conversation just from the mirth dancing on your lips but he indulges you anyways.
“hm?”
“would you kill all the cockroaches in the world for me?”
zoro snorts at your absurd question. “that’s ridiculous.” he scoffs, fixing an arm behind his head and using the other to have you lie on his chest before answering, only because he knows how this goes with you. “yes, i would.”
he’s rewarded with a chaste kiss on the lips and the melody of your laughter. its enough to fill his entire body with warmth.
half an hour and several questions later, sleep still calls to him but his smile remains, content to humour you until your words begin to jumble into one and your breathing evens out into a familiar rhythm, convinced he could do this for an eternity with you.
#my first piece of writing for op i apologise for whatever this even is#one piece#zoro x reader#roronoa zoro#zoro roronoa x reader#one piece x reader#one piece scenario#zoro x you#opla#one piece live action
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morning serenade | cbg (m.)
pairing: beomgyu x reader
genre/au: smut, punk band!au, frenemies?, college setting
warnings: morning sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise kink, marking, fingering, orgasm delay/denial, creampie, he’s a lil possessive but wbk he’s just crazy lmao
a/n: barely fics are posted when it’s his birthday today so it made me whip this up rq since i was seeing random shits anyway after waking up. ily baby gyu, happy 23rd mwah <3
you're waking up to something heavy crushing your body on your bed.
that can’t be right. or this could be one of your sleep paralysis demons tormenting you again?
when you open one eye to check, it’s almost comical how the gurgling scream was gonna come out of your mouth but it didn’t.
grogginess from sleep mixed with shock rendered you speechless after finding a demon in the form of Choi Beomgyu, the lead guitarist of your school's punk band.
butt-naked between your legs.
“hi” his even deeper voice rumbles against your chest. it sends vibrations against your bare skin, particularly in your pussy where you're feeling a bit sore.
naked. you both are naked.
you try to remember what happened the night prior. memories start to resurface the more you stay in focus despite the man scanning your face on top of you. neither of you drank for sure but you remember kissing him which lead to a whole night of non-stop fucking.
beomgyu nuzzles your bare tits when you didn’t respond but you’re still focused on how good his messy red-bronze hair looks under the sunlight.
“what the fuck are you doing here punk?”
you tend to say the opposite of what you actually wanna say. just like you’re letting him stay on top of you instead of pushing him off.
“isn’t it obvious? we fucked” he states, a bit maniacally which should’ve concerned you about what he’s planning right now.
he giggles when you don’t rebuke him, leaving kisses around your chest.
this earns gasp from you, causing him to chuckle. you couldn’t even look at him, already closing your eyes as he continued to pepper your skin with more messy kisses until he reached your nipples, encircling his mouth briefly on both before releasing them with a pop.
“scratch that, i fucked you” he grins as he pulls himself up, allowing him to see you underneath him in full glory.
“and i’ll fuck you again”
beomgyu leans on one elbow against the mattress, his other hand touching whatever he can of your body. holding your cheek then briefly squeezing your breast down to caressing the side of your tummy.
“but..” you’ve been squirming under his touch, only halting when you feel his fingers in your cunt, checking to see how swollen you are.
“you’re soaking tho, you sure you don’t wanna?” he asks in a playful manner, fingers running through your folds and you wanted to scream.
scream his name that is, like hours ago.
your resolve's giving in, with how he’s looking at you like he’d been the whole night not helping your current predicament.
“beomie..” your legs absentmindedly close due to the sensitivity but he slaps your inner thighs, eliciting a whiny moan from you.
“go on, ask” his smile widened and you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes as your gaze stayed on them.
“f-fuck me?” you’re not used to this, asking him of all people but maybe this is why he wants you to say it more.
“that’s it? no please…” his smile turned wicked as he plunges a finger into your pussy slowly and added another one, much to your displeasure.
“fuck, please fuck me” you squeal, ignoring how pathetic you sounded. he’d tease you nonstop after this like he always does since you’ve known him but you don’t really care.
you just want his dick again before you both can go back to hating each other temporarily.
he brings you back by pulling his fingers out and you’ve never felt so empty. beomgyu adjusts himself, his length brushing against your thighs that had you whining again.
“tsk tsk, too impatient” he huffs, grabbing his dick to line it up against your soaking folds.
“n-no more teasing..” you plead again because you don’t know how long you can endure his teasing. he surprisingly obeyed, pushing in until he filled you up to the brim.
your sensitive walls couldn’t stop clenching around him, making him weaker than usual. he hates it, hates how you could reduce him to this.
“still too tight, ‘s like i didn’t fuck you a lot” he hisses as he moves his hips, increasing his pace at once. he wants to hear you moan louder for him, want to hear it as long as he can.
“gyu..too much” you’re babbling and moaning, can’t even tell him which one’s too much but you're gripping his back with so much strength to keep him closer to your body. he relishes it though, the scratch from your nails that will surely leave red marks against his skin.
“too much but you like it?” he asks and you nod, biting your lips and curling your toes at how much pleasure he’s giving you.
you’re supposed to be tired from fucking for hours but your body seemed to want more. more like you want Beomgyu more and that scares you.
he knew he found that soft spot inside you the moment your back started arching, almost hitting his face while he watched you under him. he leaned down to trail kisses along your neck, hearing you giggle each time his long hair brushed your skin.
you keep moaning Beomgyu’s name and he’s tempted to tease you just to hear you more. but he’ll take pity, you’ve been so good to him so far. he was actually worried that you’d push him away earlier that’s why he tried his best to distract you.
“..more..more..shit” your words spur him to grab your face, to keep you steady while he gives you what you ask.
“i’ll fuck you more don’t worry, after this i will” he starts, caressing your cheek, and your bleary eyes are having a hard time paying attention to him.
he’s so pretty and you suddenly wanna kiss him. grabbing his mullet, you try to pull his face into yours but he’s firm in his hold on your neck keeping you in place.
"will you let me? will you huh y/n?" he leans in as he says it, mouth open as he moans against your lips but not touching them. they're touching the side though and one small turn from you would allow that.
but his question irks you, no, his whole being does.
all you can do is nod, releasing a series of wanton moans of his name which causes satisfaction within him. beomgyu was gonna kiss you but that’s too much of a risk so he buries his head at the crook of your neck instead.
"i'll be good, so good you're never gonna fuck the others" he whispers by your ear, accompanied by a couple of desperate grunts that you’ve never heard from him before.
"good..mhmm..so good"
"yeah good? you like how i fuck you?" he goads, eager to hear your praises again like he can't get enough of it.
"yea-hngh, gyu omyfuck!" the band on your lower abdomen unexpectedly snaps, leading Beomgyu to fasten his pace even more to reach his own end.
he’s not far and seeing the pure bliss in your pretty face is enough for him to reach his peak, groaning loudly as releases inside you.
you’re both panting from another mind-blowing orgasm and eventually, he drops his body against yours.
this time, you push him off completely which earns a complaining whine from him.
“where are you going? can you even walk?” he taunts, still breathless but his tone irritates you because he’s right.
“shut up you fuckass!”
as soon as you tried standing, your legs gave away and Beomgyu started laughing. his annoying laughter echoes around that you tried ignoring even if you had hopes of him getting off the bed to hoist you up.
but of course he wouldn’t.
instead, he peeks by the edge of the mattress with that stupid mullet hair of his before he reaches out to grab yours gently. he tugs it to turn you to him, pulling your face closer and then leaning in while you stupidly do the same for some reason.
no kiss or anything, just him stopping right before your lips are about to touch. a taunting smile graces his in response to the frown etching on your face.
“awee don’t tell me you’re giving up already”
if he meant your stamina or something else, you don’t ever wanna figure it out.
.
e/n: i’m kinda out of practice for smut lmao + this is unedited so excuse 🤧. also i did not expect to post him first in this blog when i had yeonjun and soobin drafted first 🤡
#tomorrow x together#txt smut#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu smut#txt x reader#txt#txt hard thoughts#txt hard hours#txt beomgyu#beomgyu#choi beomgyu#txt imagines#txt fanfiction#txt fanfic#txt scenarios#kpop x reader#kpop scenarios#kpop fanfic#kpop smut#kpop imagines
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Please do a teeny story where buckys kitty is all over a y/n and he is so flustered about it. These pics of my cat who is a Turkish Angora. I like to think he might look a bit like Alpine 😉
I'm here for all the domestic fluff rn. WHAT A CUTE BABY PLSSSS absolutely yes your fur baby looks like such a little angel. That is most certainly Bucky's sweet Alpine.
Bucky finally moved into a new apartment. One with proper heating and lighting. A comfy bed he actually liked to sleep in. Furniture he picked out. It was a simple space but he liked it. He even got a few plants and hung up a few pictures, most of them with Sam and Steve.
His favorite place was surprisingly the kitchen. After years of tasteless mush and not exactly feasting every day back in he 40's, Bucky loves trying experimenting with different recipes and recreating ones he remembered his ma making for him.
Then there was his favorite thing in the whole world. A little white ball of fur that would slink around his legs all day, meowing for pets and cuddles, purring so loudly Bucky was sure the neighbors could hear. He'd never meant to get a cat but all it took was one charity event at a local animal shelter and the rest was history. He couldn't resist those adorable blinking eyes and soft, wispy fur.
-
"Alp?" Bucky rubbed his eyes, curious as to why there wasn't a fuzzy motor boat purring on his chest while the sun streamed through the curtains. "Where'd you go, baby"
It wasn't rare for Alpine to wake up earlier than Bucky, sauntering around the apartment to lay under a patch of sun. He swung his legs over, making his way to the kitchen to make breakfast for both him and his cat only to find the apartment empty and the cat door swinging.
"I should've never installed that" Bucky groaned to himself, deciding to continue making breakfast in hopes that Alpine would be back shortly whilst also wondering why he thought it would be a good idea to give his cat a sense of independence. Moments later, Bucky heard the swinging of the flap, announcing the arrival of the fur ball.
"Where did you go" Bucky cocked his head, noting the way his cat was smugly licking his lips before jumping onto his cat tree and stretching out for a nap. "For fucks sake, you're worse than Steve, running off God knows where and doing who knows what"
A knock of the door broke Bucky away from the conversation he was having, his eyes growing wide seeing his pretty neighbor on the other side.
"H-hi" Bucky stuttered, smiling down at the PJ's you were still in along with soft bunny slippers on your feet, sleep still evident on your face. Before either of you could speak, Alpine trotted over, walking right past Bucky and straight to you. He stood up on his hind legs with needy meows, batting his eyes as best as he could, something he very clearly learned from his owner.
"Alpine" Bucky hissed, his cheeks growing red while his cat continued to paw at your leg, trying to climb you like a tree, begging to be picked up.
"Is he yours" you giggled, picking up the fussy cat in your arms, letting him adjust himself until he was comfy, his eyes closing for a nap. "He was at my door this morning"
"You can't nap there baby" Bucky sighed, embarrassed over the fact that his cat was rubbing himself all over you plus he'd clearly just revealed Alpine wore the pants in the relationship. "Yeah, he's mine. I'm so sorry, he's usually not like that, he usually runs away from people-
"It's okay" you cooed at the content cat in your arms, giving him another snuggle before turning to Bucky again. Something silver in your hand caught his eyes, running and hand over his face when he realized what you were holding.
His cat was a menace.
"He left this at my place while coming for a visit. Thought I should bring it back to its rightful owner, Sargent" You said shyly, handing over Bucky's dogtags, your breath hitching as your fingers brushed over his metal hand, placing them in his palm.
"Supposed I should give this back to you as well" you handed over Alpine, torn between wanting to cuddle the fur baby more and also feeling jealous of how comfy he must've felt in his daddy's thick arms, resting against his strong chest-
Get a hold of yourself.
"Thank you, doll" The pet name slipped out on is own making both of you giddy again. "I-I was just about to make breakfast, if you want to come over in half an hour" Bucky offered, nervous at how your react, butterflies bursting in his tummy when your eyes lit up.
"I'd love that" You gave Alpine one last scratch behind the ears before retracting back to your apartment to get changed while Bucky closed the door behind him.
"I know you want a mommy but you can't just plant yourself into the arms of the first pretty girl you see" Bucky's muffled voice carried through the door making your cheeks heat up, smiling to yourself when Alpine meowed in response.
"I know you have good taste but you know I would've asked her out eventually. You didn't have to drag my dogtags there"
"Meow"
"I'm not scared"
"Meow"
"I'm not!"
"...Meow"
"Fine. But you let me handle this when she comes over"
"Meow"
#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x reader fluff#james buchanan barnes#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky fan fic#bucky fan fiction#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes fandom#bucky imagine#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#marvel fluff#shy bucky#shy bucky x reader#soft bucky#soft bucky barnes#avengers fluff#marvel fanfics
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ONE OF THE BOYS [PART 2]
-> While you pine hopelessly over your best friend, Eddie Munson. You hear the sentiment 'one of the boys' one too many times and you've decided to change that. All in the name of the one boy who won't even look at you, or so you think.
-> eddie munson x you (she/her)
-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst
-> warnings - strong language and suggestive themes [no smut]
-> a/n I tried to tag everyone I saw, but some of y'all weren't linking. Also, there is a part three because part two became so long. Whoops!
[Part 1] Part 2 [Part 3]
-> <-
“You're eventually going to have to talk to them,” Robin shimmies her backpack into the empty chair next to her rather than being strewn across the lunchroom table. “As far as they know, you changed your hair and your clothes and now you hate them.”
You place your lunch tray onto the open space, then sit across from her.
Distancing from your friends was cruel, and you knew that. Robin is also right. Still, you wake an hour early to get to school ahead of them. Taking windy pathways past the gymnasium that stunk of socks to avoid Eddie on his way to his classroom that is two doors away from yours. You carry all of your heaviest books now because Gareth’s locker is across from yours. You do regret leaving that sandwich in your locker though. Gross.
With a routine schedule, two months have flown by without a hitch in the plan. Robin likes sitting with you at lunch, but she does wish you chose to sit here rather than watching you screw away at a tight bond with the boys over at the other table.
Things were desperate by the first week when you shoved toilet paper up your nose in order to fib to Eddie that you were too sick to go anywhere. You missed two days of class just so you could keep away from him.
Then, there was the band performances. You never missed a single night that Corroded Coffin played music at the scrappy biker bar at the outskirts of town. The boys had stopped inviting you after “missing two,” but you snuck into the shadows in the back of the bar. No one really bothered you there. Stage lights distracted the performers enough to where they could only see the front row of drunks.
All of the practice in Gareth’s garage paid off. Corroded Coffin was good - no, excellent. You were so proud of the boys.
You wish you could tell them.
And, so, maybe Robin is right. All of this running around is silly and reckless. You miss all of your friends dearly. Even Eddie, who still you find absolutely and undoubtedly the most complicated soul you ever met in your entire life. Your friendship is more to you than desperately clinging to his ankle like a shaken chihuahua in heat.
Maybe there is a part of you that still wishes he’d see. All the effort you put into your hair, your skin and your nails isn’t just about proving that you aren’t just one of the guys. You knew this from the very beginning. Still, even after your conversation with Gareth that one night, you still play out this plot a little longer.
You like the shiny bling and the tighter clothes that get you a bit more attention. But, you didn’t have to change yourself completely - right?
“Isn’t it time for me to mingle with people who have similar interests as me?” You say finally out of your head. Snagging one of Robin’s fries, you drop down in the seat across from her.
“You've proven you can be a chick with or without that frizzy haired freak. Don't act like you don't like the same stuff they do,” she flicks your jacket, which has hours of patchwork done. You had sewn on patches of your favorite bands. Most of the bands, you had learned from Eddie, himself.
Hours of listening to music together in his trailer, while sharing a blunt. Eddie would get a wind of energy and then he’d leap onto his bed for a solo performance. Fingers stroking a guitar that never existed. You laugh as he tumbles over his mattress, and he tells you that’s when the crowd will carry him - to victory!
You warm at the memory.
Eddie is the only person at his lunch table. Kicking his foot up onto an empty chair, he lounges and he waits for his friends. He’s always the first to get there because his class is so close to the cafeteria. It takes Gareth and Jeff a longer time because they come from the gym. And, the freshman come from the opposite side of the school, so they take the longest to get to the cafeteria.
“Go on,” Robin nudges you. “I’ll see you in math later.”
By the time Robin kicks you thrice in the shin, you get over your worries. You want to patch your friendships up with the boys, but you’re not sure what to tell them. Explaining the truth felt horrific. That you like - er - liked Eddie. Gareth’s confession in the kitchen.
Yeah, the truth seems far fetched.
Your second option is to beg for them to quit calling you ‘one of the guys,’ but that too came off risky. You've never had a problem with their comments before, or their disgusting antics and habits. Once you smell a Jeff fart, then all of the other farts seem forgiving. Seriously, no one should ever give him cheese again. Yet, they do.
Anyway, talking to Eddie first feels less daunting then to come up to all of them at once. But, with your stalling, your wish comes to late. The boys rush the table, hollering and whooping like unkept animals.
You stop in your tracks fully when you see two women beeline for the table. They never invite people to their table. Or at least, they never invite just anyone.
Roxie is easy to recognize. Candy coated red lips meet that of Eddie’s pale cheek that blushes a deep crimson at the affection. Eddie hangs his head, so he can smack a wet kiss to her lips. She uses a free hand to swipe the spare lipstick from his mouth.
“Sweetheart,” Eddie cooed.
Roxie touches his hair in a way that makes his eyes droop low, and he rests his head on her chest. All while he keeps his conversation with Jeff going.
Meanwhile, the other woman is her opposite.
Brunette hair cascades down her back, and tangles amongst her woven sweatshirt. Arms wide open with her slender fingers covered by the net sweater she hid under. She sneaks up on Gareth, and hangs over his neck. Gareth cranes his neck, and whispers in her ear making her laugh sweetly. He touches her wrist with gentle fingers and he pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose with his free hand, before they have a chance to slip further down her face.
“Indie!” Dustin shouts.
The girl hanging from Gareth picks her head up, and grins with a shining sparkle in her eye at the young freshman. She reaches over to ruffle his hair.
You panic.
Slamming into someone’s shoulder, you apologize and you retreat like a mouse being stepped on. Time slows down. You move around people as fast as your feet will carry you.
You can hear your breath in your ears meeting up with your heart banging against your ribcage.
Robin calls to you, but you can’t hear her. Blood rushes through you, and you swear your can feel the swimming and the tingling. Your fingertips tingle when you push open the door into the hallway.
Technically speaking, you couldn’t be out here if you're on our lunch period. A few classes still go on, but mostly the teachers didn’t want anyone to catch them smoking in their classrooms where they shouldn’t be. It’s not like the smell lingers.
Somewhere down the hallway, a classroom is having a heated debate. Voices bounce from wall to wall. Echoing into your eardrums. All. Too. Much. You aim for the big showy doors at the front of the building.
Cool damp air hits your cheeks. Trees stand tall. Birds hold meetings on their branches. They sing soft melodies. Outside smells earthy.
Immersing yourself in the sourness of the damp remains of rainfall, you slow your jagged breathing. Your heart beat regulates.
Keys trembling in your fist, you find your car parked not too far away in the parking lot. Some asshole has blocked your passenger side in, so even if you wanted too you wouldn't be able to get in that way.
Kicking yourself for taking the cowards way out, you catch a tearful glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Mascara slips down your cheeks. Your drowning in two inches of water.
Eddie's bandana sits in your glove compartment. It still remains his with the lingering tang of old cigarettes and sweat. You told him if he left that nasty thing in here that you'd wash the stink out.
You haven't.
Clinging to a tissue, you use that to pat your face dry. Dabbing at your eyes, you don't want to disturb your makeup. Funny how a few months ago, you would be scrubbing your cheeks raw to get anything off of your face.
The tapping on your window startles you because you think a teacher has seen you. However, you find only Robin with a pitiful expression on her face. She waves for you to roll down your window, then holds out your backpack and your jacket that you’ve left behind in your scurry to get out of school.
“You left your things,” she looks at your puffy eyes and your worn out makeup. “Are you okay?”
“No,” you reach out for your things, only to put them in the passenger seat next to you, “I think I’ll go home.”
“Indie is a really nice girl-,”
“I’m not worried about Indie.”
Robin winces at the sharpness of your tone slicing through the air like butter. You apologize to her.
“I’m going to go home, Robin.”
“Roxie and Eddie are only going to last for a day - I guarantee,” her shoulders bobble. “It’s Roxie.”
“Yeah,” you say thinly.
Robin taps your car. “Get home safe.”
“Will do,” you say. “Thank you.”
-> <-
When you arrived at school the next day, you're in class for less than fifteen minutes before your name blasts on the intercom to report to the main office. Robin salutes you from her seat in the back of home room like you’re taking a final walk, before they take you around the back and shoot you between the eyes. Well done, soldier.
Although not as dramatic, you were served a detention slip for after school. You suspected as such, since you left halfway through school without an explanation. Next time you'll go to the nurse, and heat up the thermometer with your tongue. Give her a cough, or a sneeze and she would send you home.
You tap your fresh manicure across the etchings in the desk. Profanities. Markings of once was, and forever will be.
Low rumbles cause for distraction. You pick a desk next to a window where you see the gray clouds clustering in close. They spit at the ground. Droplets of water slip across the glass. You guess which droplet will get to the bottom first, and silently cheer the winner.
Your eye drifts to the front of the class where your chest rises and falls at the next person to walk through the door. All those months of hiding your head felt worthless when Eddie shows up.
For a moment, you think, he’s looking right at you. You swallow, but you try waving. Eddie does ignore you and plops himself into a chair at the front of the classroom. His backpack drops with a thunk.
Tipping your attention back to the window, the rain comes down harder in flashes of wet thunder and lightening. Dark and stormy weather is your favorite. Because, after the rain stops, you like splashing in every puddle until you can’t see the color of your boots anymore.
You can’t do that in your new sneakers. Not a speck of dust on them. Barely out of the box.
“Everyone in their seats,” a man in a blazer walking with an arch to his spine tells us. He hovers at the front of the classroom with both hands on his desk, while peering just above his square framed lenses. Wild gray hairs stick out on end near his ears. You wonder if he’s done this on purpose to accentuate that despite he’s bald on top of his head, he still in fact has hair. “I’m Mr. Clark, and this will be an hour long detention session.”
You came prepared with notebooks and homework to do for the next hour.
“I’ll be taking attendance, and then you may quietly do your homework or read . . . for all I care, bang your head against the desk just be quiet,” he aims the metaphorical bullet at Eddie and misses, and hits the wall just over the top of his head.
Eddie clicks his teeth. “You got it teach.”
“Mr. Munson,” Mr. Clark groans. “Will I ever get tired of seeing your face?”
Eddie grins famously. “Oh, you know you’ll never get tired of me, Dick.”
“It’s Richard,” he clears his throat, then straightens his tie, “Mr. Clark to you.”
You miss the banter. The smart mouth Eddie that has you drooling. Oh, God, please resist getting sucked in again.
The notebook in front of you has pages of blank white paper. You focus on filling in the lines with your math equations.
“Solve for E,” you tell yourself in a hushed whisper. “What ever happened to X?”
So, you solve for E.
You raise your hand when your name is called for the attendance. Pretending that Eddie didn’t whip around at your name, instead you solve for E. You solve for E because E is the equivalent of- E is the equivalent of-
Eddie can’t help, but watch your eyebrows get closer and closer to your nose. You get frazzled easily when you know you’re close to an answer that’s on the tip of your tongue.
You’re breaking now. Keeping your head down, as Eddie burns holes into the top of your head. E isn’t an equivalent of anything. E is the most complex and confusing letter of the alphabet. You swore up and down that you would avoid E. E’s in front of you. There’s no way to escape E for an entire hour. Even when you think you've solved E, you still have to see E living in a trailer across from you. E’s lights still on. Eating. Watching TV. Changing. Sleeping. Dreaming.
Crap, you are not thinking about the fifth letter in the alphabet. And, you are certainly not thinking about math.
You throw down your pencil in frustration.
Eddie waits for Mr. Clark to finish his attendance taking. In mere moments, the old geezer passes out despite his fifth coffee of the day. He rocks back in his chair, arms at his side with a trail of drool spilling out down his chin.
That’s when Eddie moves.
“Hey,” you have your head down on your desk by now, but Eddie doesn’t care.
He doesn’t understand why you’re avoiding the group. Obviously, he misses when you would sit at the table and you correct his homework from the night before. You’re too smart for him. Eddie knows this. You’re more than a brain to him, though. The way you speak with your hands more and more when you get excited.
Eddie likes to pretend not to understand why he gets nervous when you lean over his shoulders to show him how to work out a problem in one of his classes. He pretends to not notice the scent of your soap that smells so sweet and delicious. That the smell lingers when you leave.
What he can't shake, however, is why you haven’t been speaking to him for the last two months. Darting into empty classrooms when you think he’s not looking. When your home, you'll keep the lights off or low enough that he might forget you’re home (he doesn’t). And, you think you’re clever sneaking into the back of his performances with the band, but Eddie sees you there dancing by yourself with a grin on your face that could break apart the gray days and bring back the sunshine. You haven’t missed a single performance yet.
So, where have you been?
You bring your head up from the table because you know Eddie is smarter than to think you’ve fallen asleep. Sometimes you talk, or you twitch your arms - Eddie’s seen this when you knock out after a long day. He'll let you sleep there, but he'll take off your shoes so that you're comfortable. And, he'll even place a blanket over you because you'll start to shiver. But, he never stays. He doesn't want you to wake up because Eddie is notoriously clumsy. Instead, Eddie would sneak into the living room twiddling his thumbs making no noise until you wake up. He wouldn't turn on the television. He wouldn't warm anything up in the microwave. He wouldn't even open his fridge. He would sit on the floor of his living room kicking his feet together, and plucking at the carpet fibers.
You never sleep long - thirty minutes at most.
Eddie thinks about how much time you spend together in his trailer at this moment. You’ve shared everything. Clothes. Towels. Blankets. Toothpaste. Food. Secrets. You've made a mark on him when he wasn’t looking. If there is a way to tattoo someone into their brain, into their heart, you're there.
That terrifies him.
“Hi,” your voice melts him.
Eddie stumbles over his words. “Erm-,”
“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “I just-,”
“How are you doing?” Eddie wants you to keep talking. He’ll ask about anything to keep you here with him. Tempting you like a rabbit, and him holding onto a carrot, he waits for you to bite.
“Good,” you reply. “You?”
“Yeah, good.”
You can’t hold back. “You’re with Roxie, now?”
“Hm?” He hums. “It’s casual.”
“Casual,” you repeat. “Like I said- erm- I’m sorry that I haven’t been around. My classes-,”
“Don’t lie to me,” Eddie’s eyes swell, and you fall deeper into the trap. “What’s happening to you?”
Okay, truth time.
“I liked a boy, and he didn’t like me back,” you stretch out your top. “I even tried changing my look, but that seems pretty pointless now. But, I guess I just got tired of being compared to a boy.”
Eddie could faint. You're infatuated with someone so much that you changed your entire wardrobe. Guilt rubs at him.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Eddie's denying what he already knows about himself. That if he kept comparing you to one of his guy friends that certain emotions couldn't grasp hold of the surface for air.
“Who's comparing you to a boy?”
He had to be sure.
“Seriously?” you frown. “Everyone. You. Gareth-,”
Confirmed.
“Is this about Gareth?” Eddie clenches his fist around the back of his chair. “I swear to God, I’ll pummel that little sack of shit.”
“Eddie,” you scold. “It’s not Gareth- never mind.”
“Wait, who’s the guy?”
You hum. “What?”
“You said you liked some guy?” Eddie pieces together. “It has to be one of us, right? I mean you stopped talking to all of us specifically, so which one of us is it?”
“That’s not important,” you suck in a breath. “Eddie, I’m doing homework.”
He snorts, the flips the page so he can read the question, “you’re doing it wrong.”
You roll your eyes. “Aren’t I usually the one who’s correcting you?”
“Gareth’s girlfriend has been helping me since you- never mind,” Eddie sees the tension in your jaw. “Okay, so to solve for E, you plug in this number here and then you take the square root there.”
You’re irritated, but Eddie is right and you mark your paper up how the equation should be.
“Thank you.”
“So, it’s Gareth,” Eddie presses on.
“What?”
“The boy you like that doesn’t like you back?”
“No,” you write another math equation out on your piece of paper. “Actually, Gareth liked me, and I didn’t feel the same.”
Eddie knows this, but he just needs to hear you say you don't like his friend.
“The plot thickens,” he gets comfortable. “Is it Jeff? Come on, Jeff is a catch.”
“Eddie, please drop it,” you beg.
Eddie throws a few more names out that you can ignore over your homework. But, slowly he begins to run out of ideas. You know where he’s going, and you’re not sure how to react when he says,
“It’s not me is it?”
Your pencil stops scribbling, and if you’re careful you can pretend to be thinking really hard about - what two plus two equals. Oh, damn.
“It is me.”
Those three little words trip you up more than Eddie’s jaw being on the floor right now. You stammer for a little too long. Tripping over the right words to say to him.
This is it.
The moment you’ll lose him for good.
You want him to just tear your heart from your chest and squeeze it until it pops. Make the pain of an aching heart go by so much faster.
“Mr. Munson,” Mr. Clark rose like a zombie from the afterlife. “Is there a reason that your seat is empty?”
Eddie whirled around. Still stunned, he replies,
“Uh. . . right, sorry.”
Without making too much noise, Eddie puts himself back into his original seat towards the front of the classroom. Fidgeting with his pencil, someone might mistake that he’s doing homework for the first time.
Eddie lives across the trailer park from you. How could he not see this coming? All the nights he's spent rescuing you from the clutches of your mom, who, despite being a wonderful host, has this unnecessary plea that you embrace your ‘femininity.’ That’s what you call it, he thinks.
Oh, and now to let you down.
Eddie’s seeing someone great. Roxie. She’s - she’s - she’s not as much of a slut as people say. And, he likes - no he loves that thing she does with her tongue.
Okay, he’s getting distracted.
You’re one of his closest and longest friendships he’s had. And now, you, have to go and change that.
Eddie’s mad. Angrier than angry. How dare you bring this to him.
Two months you kept away. You ran around the school like a chicken with your head cut off trying to avoid all of your loyal friends. And, you brought Robin into this mess?
Robin, at the very least, is a sweet and a neutral party. Okay? She doesn’t involve herself with anyone’s drama. She just sticks to the side of the drama like she's riding in a sidecar, and she takes notes. She lingers.
Eddie rubs his eye.
Maybe if you and he went on one tiny - the tiniest - date. As in, he doesn’t pay for food, kind of dates then you’ll get whatever you want out. You can go back to being friends, and Eddie can still see Roxie. Because, he likes Roxie.
He doesn’t like you like that.
Eddie wants nothing more than to forget the conversation you two just had. Yet, you’re lodged in his brain like a damn tumor. Yeah, a tumor. Growing at an alarming rate, he wants to smush your pretty little face. Not in a violent way - no, he’s not like that. He just wants to get out the tension, and - and hold you for a night? Does that make sense?
No, Eddie it does not.
Eddie wishes you didn’t smell so good today . . . and all the other days. If you smelled like an ogre, he could stop thinking about taking you on that ‘barely-call-it-a-date’ date. Although, if you were an ogre and you did smell as good as you do right now - ugh, that doesn't matter!
None of this matters. Why is he thinking like this?
In theory, he’ll take you somewhere romantic. To release you of your crush faster, he’ll spend the money - okay? He decides to break the bank for you.
Only once.
There’s a little spot outside of town that has the most delicious steak dinners. They have a dimly lit dining room, so Eddie wouldn’t have to see the dress you spent hours deciding on wearing. Your bare skin softened by the scented lotion you bought just for the night. He can hear your laugh like a song he knows by memory. You tilt your head back, exposing the flesh of your neck.
After your dinner, that he pays for - not you, he’ll walk you down the street where he parked his van earlier. He’ll have cleaned out and scrubbed the seats until every stain kicks the bucket. Driving you home, he’ll feel that knot in his chest that he knows from watching cheesy romantic comedy movies as practice for when that crap happens to him (he doesn't do that . . . shut up.). That knot tighten a little more by the time he gets to the trailer park. And, by the time he gets out of the car his fingertips start to shake.
Eddie will open your door, if he can get there before you. Taking your hand in his, he’ll feel the warmth of your skin against his. How right the moment feels. How nervous your breath is against his. How close you are to him. He’ll be the one to learn in first - you're too nervous to make that leap.
Lips as sweet as milk and honey. He would kiss you for a long time, always coming back for more. Eddie won't find himself getting enough of you. You’re touching his hair, and he melts.
Eddie will never want the night to end.
“Munson!”
Eddie doesn’t recall falling asleep. Yet, his eyes snap open. Mr. Clark’s slobbering from the side of his mouth. He’s so close that Eddie makes out the patches in his face where he’s forgotten to shave.
The classroom is emptying. He only catches a glimpse of you leaving.
“Go home, boy,” Mr. Clark begs. “You and I both know you don’t want to be here for any longer.”
No, Eddie does not.
In fact, Eddie would much rather be wrapped in your arms in either his bed or your bed.
Eddie shoves his notebook and his pencil back into his backpack knowing full well he heard something crunch unhappily in there. Racing out of the classroom, he sprints after you in the hallway.
But, you’ve already gone.
-> <-
tags: @hellfirenacht @queercodedcharacter @ogoc-19 @littlewinchester1 @stardustingold @ghost4love @spenciesprincess @animechick555 @foggyfooz @aactuaaltraash @loves0phelia
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things#stranger things imagine#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson preference#angst
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OMEGAVERSE 141 MY BELOVED OH GOD IM GONNA THINK ABT UR WRITING ALL DAY
I do love this idea, so glad everyone enjoys this too!
Poly TF141 x Omega! Reader Headcanons
(Poly TF14 x F! Omega Reader)
(Part Four: The First Heat)
Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Hidden designations, Alpha! John Price, Alpha! Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Beta! Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Omega! John 'Soap' MacTavish, Omega F! Reader, Group dynamics, Poly TF141, Heat cycles, Comfort, SoapGaz, Slowburn
Masterlist
Your heat hits hard
It's not as bad as the one that nearly killed you, but to say it's uncomfortable would be an understatement
You don't notice it at first. You feel off, sure, but everyone has off days. You assume you just ate something bad at breakfast, shrug, and try to move on
As the day progresses you begin to wonder if you're coming down with something. You're parched, too warm, a little shaky. You think maybe it's a cold, that you'll just sleep it off
It isn't until you run into Price later that day that you realize
The scent of an alpha that's scent marked you in the past to help keep other away wafts across your senses, and before you can blink-
It sends you to your knees
Price is alarmed, and reaches for you, before he realizes exactly what's mixed in with your scent. You see his pupils dilatate, see his throat bob as he swallows, but he manages to haul you upwards and slowly helps you to your room
You're sluggish and hazy eyed by the time you get there, leaning your weight onto him fully as your legs refuse to cooperate. You try to apologize, and Price reminds you there's no need, that you can't help it, that he'll make sure you're safely put away
Yet he merely dumps you in your room and extracts himself before he can have a change of heart, quickly texts the others to inform them of the situation
You barely make it into bed, exhausted, feverish, muscles and joints aching. It doesn't take long for you to pass out
When you wake up, it's dark outside, your room is dim, and you feel damp, gross with sweat. Yet there's a little message on your phone from Gaz, letting you know there's a care package for you right outside the door
You manage to crawl over, open the door just enough to slide the box in. Your back presses to the door as you sit on the floor, eyeing the contents
Snacks, water, hygiene items, a little soap bar where someone has taken a blade to redundantly carve the word 'soap' into it, and a black dark hoodie with a scent so heavy that when you hold it to your face you moan.
You notice neither alphas has come to offer their assistance, and for that you're both glad and a little lonely about. The thought is shaken away as you stumble towards the shower, clean off, slide the hoodie on, eat and hydrate, and collapse back into bed
Maybe it won't be a bad heat, you think
You wake up and your world is on fire
There's only hot air as you gasp awake, clawing at your blanket, drenched in sweat, sheets soaked. Your skin itches, and you pull off the hoodie just to get a cool reprieve, only to drag it back on when the ache between your thighs clenches painfully
It feels like you're drowning, like your veins are molten, like you can barely breathe
And between your legs is a searing, pulsing emptiness that makes you clench around nothing, has you buck and gasp and whine in search of reprieve. Yet there's nothing to help. Not even the touch of your scent marked pillow, not even the smell of Ghost's hoodie or water or food
You manage to fumble for your phone, reach and text one single line
"He lp"
It's the middle of the night, you think they aren't awake, and after a few minutes you decide to fix this yourself, pulling yourself from bed towards a cold shower
You don't get far, legs collapsing under you the moment you stand. It's so much, and try as you may you can't seem to drag yourself very far, crying out in frustration and resorting to hauling a blanket from bed to curl on the floor
It's how Soap finds you, curled up and writhing in pain. You see his face float into view, ashen with concern, and still dressed in his sleeping clothes. You take one inhale and whine, arch your neck submissively because he smells faintly like Ghost, like Alpha.
It doesn't take long for him to help you into the bathroom, stick you in the shower with all your clothes on, and turn on the coldest water you can manage
"Yer burning up, hen'." He mutters, eyes cloudy with worry, a hand placed to your forehead. "Need tae cool you down."
He vanishes for a moment, and you whine until he comes back with a clean set of clothes
"Can you get dressed by yourself?" He asks, and you consider, shake your head
Soap is nothing less than a gentleman despite the fact he's already seen you naked before, manages to fumble you dry and get you into fresh clothes before helping you back into your room
It's there that you find Gaz, in the midst of changing your sweat damp sheets, bleary eyed but offering you a smile
You're considerably more relaxed by the time the two sergeants have you fed and hydrated, finally curled up between the both of them on your cot
They're soaked in Price and Ghost's scents, and it's enough to make the need between your thighs relax just enough for you to go limp between them
Your head is cloudy with lust, with need, swimming with low pulsing desire at bodies pressing into you on either side smelling like alpha
It makes you hiccup, tears forming in your eyes at wanting, needing, hoping for them as your blood thrums too warm in your veins, and your voice chokes on their names as if somehow you can summon them the quell the ache
You know, in some distant, logical part of your brain, that Price and Ghost are being more than decent about this, that even if you asked in this state they'd refuse you until your mind is clear
It doesn't stop you from being a whiny, needy, horny mess between the two men that smell like them. Your hips jerk automatically, seeking friction, even as a hand kneads the small of your back to try and soothe you into keeping still. it has the entirely opposite effect, makes your fangs pop out and a low, heady moan tumble past your lips
It aches
Yet then a large, firm hand grasps onto your nape, and you suck in an unsteady breath as someone who smells like an alpha scruffs you, making you automatically go limp and still
"Good omega." Soap purrs in your ear, and you shudder, whine, but remain pliant in his grip, wet eyelashes fluttering as a heavy fog of sleep descends upon you once more, safe in the arms of the two men you trust the most to keep you like this
#omegaverse cod#soap x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#john price x reader#poly tf141#modern warfare 2#x reader#reader insert#omegaverse au
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non-explicit but suggestive, creampie implied, MDNI, gojo is being dramatic after he wakes up without you in bed
it smells like the sun, satoru thinks, as he wakes up to the sunlight creeping in through the blinds, hitting his face with a warm glow. his eyes are still closed, a soft smile spread on his lips elicited by the memories of last night, of you chanting his name like a little prayer as your bodies were locked together. the longer he thinks of it, the bigger his smile grows. the way your face flushed and contorted as he dived into you, the way your hands grabbed his hips to push him even deeper, the way your fingers intertwined and your foreheads pressed against each other until you both came down from your high.
*slap*
“shit”, he smacks himself across the face because his smile started evolving into little giggles, “shit”, but also because something down there, between his legs, was evolving, too, “calm down there, buddy. not now. first, we need to find our cute runaway lover who sneaked out of bed while we were sleeping still”
satoru knew you weren’t in bed the moment his consciousness awakened. he didn’t have to open his eyes to see it nor to reach his hand to your side of the bed only for it to end on the empty mattress. he knew, simply because he always holds you in his arms when in bed, even when you toss around and slip away from his embrace in the middle of the night, his hands find you and pull you back where you belong. it’s an automatic reflex of his body that doesn’t require his brain to create the action. it’s a need, to always be as close as possible to you.
it's a struggle for him to open his eyes now and actually see that you’re not there. a voice at the back of his head, a quite dramatic one at that, tells him to keep them shut until you come back so he doesn’t have to witness your shared bedroom without you in it.
but he beats the urge eventually, a big pout present on his face. why would you deprive him of the feeling of waking up next to you in the morning. what a cruel thing to do, he thinks before grabbing his phone from the nightstand. seeing the picture of you on his lockscreen quickly chases away the pout replacing it with a soft smile.
“but i want the real thing”, he purses his lips again and dials your number.
“how dare you” is the first thing he says as soon as you pick up. you can not only hear the pout in his voice from the other side of the line but almost see it on his cutely dramatic grumpy face, “how dare you sneak out and go grocery shopping without me?”
“oh, you miss me already?”, you let a chuckle out, “i am on my way back, can you hold on for 15 more minutes and not die without me, mm?”
“i can’t promise... my heartbeat is slowing down, i can feel my internal organs shutting down one by one, you have to hurry up or it will be fatal”
“you’re such a baby, satoru”
“exactly. and who leaves a baby alone at home and casually goes grocery shopping? you. you are bad-bad”
you can’t help yourself but stop in the middle of the street and start laughing heartily, “sorry, baby, it won’t happen again. but then again… how did you know i was out grocery shopping?”
“i put a gps tracker on you”
“you what?”, your eyes widen at his words. no, he can’t be this crazy, right?, you think.
“yea, it’s the dna i put inside you last night. it’s like part of me is with you, so it’s only natural that i would know where you are at any given moment”
“you know what, you’re the worst”
#ઈઉ — ai writes#[ ♡ ] — satoru#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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Being bsf with nick but Chris likes reader and always tries to be near her
ੈ✩‧₊˚STUCK ADJACENT ˚.°: ₊˚ ୨
 — chris sturniolo x fem reader —
— fluff, no warnings!
“can we try somewhere else we always go there?” you roll your eyes, slipping your socks on. “all the other boba shops around here taste like hand sanitizer” nick protested. “you’re going to all the wrong spots” you reply swiping nicks phone from his hands. “this place!” you point to his phone. “my sister used to take me here all the time. it’s actually good i swear” nick sighs, making his way toward the counter to retrieve his keys. he glances around before shouting for chris. “yeah?” “wheres my keys?” no response. chris’ footsteps thud as he hops downstairs. “what?” “i can’t find my keys” nick complains. chris points to the door. “i hung them up. where are you guys headed?” “boba shop” you vaguely retort. “can i go?” “uhh.. i don’t know. if nicks okay with it, im okay with it.” you smile. nick turns back toward chris. “no.” before chris can utter a rebuttal nick cuts him off. “you don’t even like boba” “sorry chris.” you shrug your shoulders. he sighs, slowly making his way back toward his room.
a couple hours pass. your stomachs full of strawberry and matcha boba. you and nick walking across the beach, exchanging laughs and comical remarks. it’s already pitch black out. you’re interrupted with multiple vibrations emitting from your phone, lighting up the screen. it’s chris. you briefly skim his messages reading, “when are you guys getting back?” and “are you on the way?” you nudge nick with your shoulder, revealing your texts to him. “let’s just go. it’s dark already anyways.” nick huffs.
nick closes the door behind you both as you slip off your uggs. you take his empty cup in your hands, disposing of both yours and his. “hey” chris appears from outside the hallway. “what’s up?” you sigh, bringing your phone up, showing chris his previously sent messages. “i don’t know. matts already laying down and i’m bored.” nick weaves through the both of you and plops himself down on the couch. “do you guys wanna watch a movie then?” you look at chris and nod before heading for the couch. you immediately take notice to how close chris seats himself to you. the sides of your legs and arms are practically touching. “chris” you mumble slightly annoyed before scooting a bit. throughout the movie, he just inches his way back in. you accept defeat and exhale, bringing your head to his shoulder and crossing your arms. his hair tickles your cheek as he begins to contort different shapes around your leg with his finger. you move your leg, gently brushing him off. he starts up again. this time, on your arm.
growing irritated with chris, you stand and make your way to nicks room. “i’m just gonna head up” you pause turning to nick. he nods before you’re back on your way. chris leans forward, shuffling up behind you. he trickles his fingers lightly beside your waist. you quickly shove them away. “chris!” you hiss at him, in a stern whisper. he throws his hands in the air, turning toward his bedroom, as you head to nicks.
your awoken by a backhand to your cheek. you turn to see nick, shuffling in his sleep. you lean up a little to check the time. it’s only one in the morning. you toss and turn in attempt to fall back asleep and fail miserably. you sigh before sitting upright and gently tiptoeing to the door, careful not to wake nick.
you leave two soft knocks at chris’ door, in hopes he’s still awake. “yeah?” he calls out. “hey” you smile creaking the door open. “what’s up?” chris replies. you shut the door and make your way to his bed, sitting on the edge. “i don’t know. i can’t sleep.” chris pats the bed, signaling you to scoot up next to him, with his arms open. you oblidge. “that’s okay” he speaks softly into your hair, pushing it out of your face. “you can sleep in here tonight, if you want?” you nod, relieved. “sorry for yelling at you earlier…but really? what’s up with you lately?” you chuckle. chris runs his knuckles softly up and down your arm and sighs. “i don’t know” “yeah you do.” you imply smiling. “i guess… i just like to be around you.” he admits. “and i really wanted to be with you today.” you run a hand through chris’ hair. “you could’ve just said so. i would’ve made time for you” “yeah?” “yeah.” you reassure. you lean into chris, attentive to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, while also tracing different shapes around his chest. he scratches your back and you immediately melt into his touch. he then brings his unoccupied hand around you, intertwining both of your fingers. you feel his warm and steady breaths in the crook of your neck as the both of you doze off into one another.
sorry i gave up halfway through. this took so long. i wrote like half and it didn’t save and i had to rewrite it. i hope it’s not too bad. keep the requests coming :) im responding to all of them rn!!
#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolos#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#christophersturniolo#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo x reader#chris x reader#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#mattsturniolo#matt x reader#nick sturniolo x reader#nick x reader#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets x reader#the sturniolos
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Max Verstappen x reader // Strawberry Wine Pt. III
Strawberry Wine Series // Masterlist
Part Three of Strawberry Wine
Summary: Max wakes up alone. He finds himself wishing the night before had been a bad dream. Title from Strawberry Wine by Noah Kahan Word Count: 6.1k
Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, sexually suggestive content, ANGST (happy ending I swear)
Max sits on the edge of the bed and stares at the wall. The room is shockingly empty. Just last night, you were in bed next to him. When he’d closed his eyes, he’d pretended everything was alright. He’d listened to the sound of your slow, even breaths and pretended you were asleep, not laying awake just like he was. Eventually, between that and the utter exhaustion of the day, he’d fallen asleep.
He just hadn’t expected to wake up alone.
Sure, you’d tried to leave the night before. Tried to go stay with your friend, to give him space. We need space, I think. But he’d talked you into staying, insisting it was your home, too, and that you were being ridiculous. He’d hoped in the morning things would be okay, that clearer heads would prevail. Or that it would all turn out to be some horrible dream. Now the sheets are cold and the bed is empty, and your tears stain the pillowcase.
Your stuff is still there, at least most of it, which is a mild comfort. He sees your clothes in the closet, your slippers near the door where he always trips over them, your jewelry box on the dresser. He wonders if the wine cork is still in the drawer. God, he hopes it is. But you’re gone. Your phone charger, always left plugged in on the nightstand, is missing. Your favorite jacket, the one that hangs on the back of the bedroom door, is gone. The sheets are cold. The bed is empty.
He’s not sure what went wrong. Not sure how to fix this, or if he even can. He just knows it feels like he’s being torn apart at the seams. He stares at the wall and thinks. He thinks of you on the balcony, your head on his shoulder. The two of you on the streets of Monaco, plastic cups full of strawberry wine. He thinks of winning a race and you, leaning over the barricade to hug him, the smell of your perfume washing over him like a blanket. He thinks of the tray of corks in his bedside drawer, of the little square box hidden behind them, a question and a promise rolled up into one piece of jewelry.
He thinks of all of this, and then he lays back down in bed and cries himself to sleep.
The sheets still smell like you. He wonders, distantly, how long it will take for that to fade.
…..
You sit on your friend Audrey’s couch with a massive headache and a shake in your hands that won’t go away. You try to convince yourself it’s the caffeine- the espresso from the cafe on the way here, the cup of coffee you’ve had since you showed up. It’s not the regret, the awful feeling you’ve made a mistake that’s making you shaky. It’s the coffee.
Audrey is moving around in the kitchen. She hasn’t said a word since you sat down and admitted it.
I asked him for a break, you’d said.
She’d poured a cup of coffee and set it down in front of you. You drank it black, thinking of how Max always knows how you take your coffee and always makes it perfectly. Then she disappeared into the kitchen. You know she’s not happy with you. She’s the only one you’ve confided in about this- all your other friends were Max’s friends first, but Audrey is yours. You’ve taken absolutely none of her advice, which is what got you to this point.
“What did you tell him?” She finally asks.
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Does it matter?”
“Did you lie?” She asks.
She must take your silence for the answer that it is- yes. She comes back into the living room and leans against the back of the armchair, staring at you. You bury your face in your hands.
“I told him I needed space,” you say. “That… I was feeling uncertain about us and I needed to be on my own for a bit.”
She sighs heavily. “So you lied.”
“I’m trying to protect him,” you mutter.
“Right. By breaking his heart.” She retorts.
“Audrey,” you snap, curling further in on yourself. “Please.”
She sighs again. She does that, when she’s not sure what else to say. You don’t think there’s anything she could say to make it better. Instead, she walks over to the couch and sits down next to you. You lean into her shoulder and let the sobs take over.
…..
Two weeks go by before you see Max again. It’s easy to avoid him. He’s always gone anyways. You’re strategic about going and getting stuff from your shared apartment. You know his schedule, know when he’ll be in town. His calendar is still shared with you, the one his assistant keeps updated with his every move.
Which is why, when you’re standing in your bedroom packing up more clothes and you hear the front door open, you know he’s caught on. He must know you’ve been using the calendar. The one that says he’s in Milton Keynes for two more days. It's either that, or someone’s broken in. You hear him stumble over your shoes and curse under his breath and you know his voice. It makes you feel sick to your stomach.
You step into the living room and come face to face with him. He’s standing across the room, smiling softly at you. There’s a paper bag in his hand from his favorite Italian place. In his other hand is a bag that you just know holds a bottle of strawberry wine. The sight of it is like a sharp stab to your rib cage.
“Hi,”’he says, softly. “Dinner?”
You blink at him, wide eyed. “How’d you know I was here?”
He gestures at the door. “We have the security camera doorbell, remember?”
And yeah, of course. He gets notifications every time there’s movement at the front door. He’ll use it to say hello to you when he’s miles upon miles away and you’re just getting home from work. Of course he’d still be getting the notifications.
“You’re supposed to be at the factory,” you say.
He shrugs. “Plans changed. I’m here. Dinner?”
There’s this hopeful look in his eyes that is absolutely tearing you apart. He’s not smiling, not frowning, completely neutral. He’s trying so hard to be unreadable, but you know him too well.
The truth is that you do want to have dinner with him. You want nothing more than to sit down at the kitchen island in your usual spots. You want to feel his knee bump against yours while you eat pasta and fight over the last piece of garlic bread. You want to drink that stupid strawberry wine until you’re drunk and fall into bed with him and pretend like nothing ever happened. Like nothing is wrong. Like you never asked for a break. And you know you could- you could say it right here and he’d act like nothing had changed.
“I’m just here to grab some stuff,” you tell him, letting your hands hang at your sides. “I’m staying at Audrey’s.”
He tries not to let the disappointment show on his face. You see it anyways, the way you always see him. After nearly a year and a half together, you can’t help it. You turn around, back towards the bedroom, back to your stuff stacked neatly on the unmade bed. You pack it into your duffel bag and head for the door.
“Are you coming to Monaco?” He asks when you place your hand on the doorknob.
For a moment you’re confused, because you’re in Monaco, but then you realize he means the Grand Prix. It’s less than a week away. As his girlfriend, you’re expected to make an appearance. You turn towards him and lean your back against the door.
“Space, Max,” you remind him, hating that you have to break his heart all over again.
He’s sitting at the island, on his usual stool, far too much garlic bread in front of him. He nods solemnly.
“Right. But if you don’t come, people will wonder what’s going on,” he says. “Our friends, the press, the-“ he waves his hands around wildly. “People.”
“You haven’t told them?”
“The press?”
“No. Our friends,” you say.
He shrugs, shoves his food around on his plate. He looks small. You hate it. You hate that it’s your fault. Your hands start to shake again.
“No,” he admits. “You said… a break, space. I didn’t know…” he huffs. “I didn’t want to tell them unless it was permanent.”
He looks up at you, then, and scrubs at his jaw. There’s stubble there, and there are bags under his eyes. God, you hate yourself for it. You hate the way he doesn’t hate you, the way you can still see the love in his eyes. You hate the worry in his gaze, like he thinks you might end things right then and there.
“Max, I don’t-“ your chest feels tight. “I don’t know.”
“Okay,” he says. “That’s okay, schat. But if you don’t go to the race…”
You sigh, haul your duffel bag over your shoulder. “I’ll be there.”
You leave the apartment before he can say anything else.
…..
Audrey takes your phone from you one night, while you’re crying on her couch after watching a very bad romantic comedy. She deletes every social media app off your phone. It’s nice of her to try. You attempt to go along with it at first. But soon you’re using the browser to check what they’re saying about you on twitter, to read the Instagram comments about how your boyfriend could do better. You’re over analyzing gossip accounts, trying to see if they can tell that you and Max are taking a break.
Two days in, you redownload all the apps. If you’re going to look at it, you might as well make it easier.
…..
“Have you told them?” Max asks you.
You’re standing shoulder to shoulder with him in the Red Bull hospitality. Your friends are huddled in the corner, raiding the snack bar. You turn and look up at him. He’s not looking back at you.
“D’you think I’d be here if I had?” You ask dryly.
He shrugs.
You turn and look back at your friends. “Have you told anyone?”
He gives you a short nod. “Daniel. He… is perceptive. I didn’t want to lie to him.”
Frankly, Max has every right to tell whoever he wants. You can’t expect him to stay quiet about it forever, no matter how well he seems to be handling it. And it’s been nearly three weeks now. Eventually, you’re going to have to admit it to your friends. It’s a bit unfair, really, that you haven’t told them. Max should be getting their sympathy. But when you think about admitting it to your friends, the ones who say you and Max are destined to be together, you feel sick to your stomach.
What’s even more unfair is that you haven’t given him a firm answer, either. You’re just keeping him there, keeping him hanging on. You need to make a decision, and soon. Just not before the race.
“I’ll figure it all out,” you promise. “And I can go if you don’t want me here-“
“I always want you here,” Max says, and your heart clenches in your chest.
You’re lucky Max isn’t big on PDA. You’ll be able to make it through the weekend without drawing much suspicion. But you find yourself missing the weight of his hand on the small of your back as you walk through the paddock. There are gaps between your fingers where his are supposed to fit. You feel it now more than ever.
…..
Daniel corners you on Saturday afternoon. Really, you should’ve seen this coming a long time ago. In the time you’ve been dating Max you’ve gotten to know the other drivers, and Daniel’s one you know quite well. He grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into Max’s driver room, which is an overwhelming place for you to be. You can remember other races, when Max was the one pulling you in here for a quick makeout or just to spend time alone. Now, you’re being dragged into an interrogation.
“What the fuck?” Daniel asks, and you can’t help but laugh.
“Wanna be more specific?” You reply.
“You know what I’m asking,” he says. “Come on.”
“I really don’t, Daniel. What do you want to know? Are you asking why I’m here? Why I asked for a break?” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Frankly, it’s none of your business-“
“It is my business, because he’s my friend and so are you. He told me why, I think it’s a load of bullshit,” he says.
The problem is… he’s not wrong.
“I think I’d know why,” you hiss.
“I see the way you look at him, it hasn’t changed.” Daniel has his arms crossed over his chest. “So what’s the real reason?”
“I’m feeling unsure about things. I needed space,” you insist.
Daniel is still blocking the door, arms crossed. He tilts his head at you, appraising. One of his dark brows twitches.
“You’re not sure about what? Your feelings for him?” He asks.
Your heart shatters in your chest. “Danny, stop, it’s not that easy-“
“No, come on. Things changed, yeah? Say it. You don’t love him anymore.” Daniel has fire in his eyes now. “Or if that’s not it, then tell me what it is.”
You stare at him, a bit dumbfounded. The truth is, you can’t say it. How could you not love Max? Just the thought of that feeling going away has you feeling awful all over again. You’re saved by a knock on the door.
“You’re in my driver room, you know,” Max calls out, and both you and Daniel deflate. “I shouldn’t even be asking, but can I come in?”
Daniel glares at you one last time and then opens the door. Max leans in, and his brows furrow when he catches sight of the two of you. You know you’re on the verge of tears. Max turns to Daniel, eyes wide.
“I told you not to do this,” Max scolds.
“We’re just talking,” Danny answers.
“She’s going to cry,” Max points out, sounding exasperated.
You roll your eyes and squeeze between the two of them. You head for the bathroom to clean yourself up. Behind you, the two of them are bickering in harsh whispers.
…..
You end up on the rooftop patio of the hotel you’re partying at after the Grand Prix. Max and your friends are somewhere downstairs. They’re drinking. You have been too- someone ordered shots for the table, then rounds of drinks. But what did you in was the strawberry wine your friends ordered specially for you and Max. You hadn’t been able to handle it anymore. At the first opportunity, you disappeared.
There aren’t any other people up here. It’s late, and if people are still up, they’re drinking and partying. So when the door swings open and you hear footfalls, you know who it is without even having to look. Max sits down next to you on the couch. You have your arms wrapped around your calves, face pressed into your knees. He doesn’t reach out to touch you. You’ve lost that privilege, it seems.
“Hi,” he says, softly. “You disappeared.”
You huff. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “But I would be a bad boyfriend if I didn’t come find you.”
You fight back the sob that threatens to wrench its way out of your throat. It turns into something halfway between a whimper and a groan. Max makes a sympathetic noise. You hate it. He should hate you. You turn your head towards him, eyeing his face through the blur of your tears.
“Well, I’m okay. You can go. Tell them I went to bed early or something,” you say.
Max stared at you. “You are obviously not okay.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not your problem right now,” you tell him. “So.”
“You’ve never been a problem, schat,” he says.
He says it like it’s so easy. Like it doesn’t make you feel physically ill. Like the way he calls you those affectionate names doesn’t make your skin burn. You press a hand over your mouth to cover the choked sob.
“Tell me what’s going on,” he says, softly. “You can talk to me.”
You can’t tell him. You broke the heart of the man you love. You lied to his face because you thought it would make it easier. And now you carry the guilt of it in every part of your body. It’s settled into the empty space behind your ribs. You stare at him from afar and wish you could hold his hand again. You taste strawberries and feel like throwing up. That first kiss in your apartment. The first bottle of strawberry wine you shared. The corks in his nightstand drawer.
“I can’t drink the wine anymore,” you tell him, and he frowns sympathetically. “The taste of it makes me feel sick.”
Max seems unsure of what to say. He reaches out, then, and places his hand on your knee. You flinch at the feeling. His thumb brushes against your skin, warm and soothing and terrifying. You don’t deserve it.
“And I know how unfair this is, because I’m the one who asked for this,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m the one who didn’t tell anyone and ended up here. I shouldn’t be the one who’s so upset about this.”
Max squeezes your knee. “You seem… heavy. Like there’s something weighing you down. I don’t hate you, you know. I don’t blame you. You need a break, okay. But you don’t have to shut me out completely.”
“Fuck, Max,” you choke out.
The sobs come easily now. They wrack your shoulders and steal the air from your lungs. You bury your face in your hands. He pulls you into his chest and tucks his head atop yours. It’s like that night on the balcony all that time ago, when he let you fall asleep against him and had you stay the night.
How does he not see it? Does he really think you want this? Maybe he’s fallen out of love with you. Maybe that’s why it’s easy for him to believe it. You think the ache in your chest will never go away. You gasp for air and breathe in his cologne and feel yourself tearing apart at the seams.
You cry harder when he presses his lips to your forehead and murmurs, “I’ve got you. You’re safe here.”
You push at his shoulder halfheartedly. “Don’t. Please don’t. I don’t deserve this.”
“What, schat?” He says, lips still pressed to your skin. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You still deserve love. Sweetheart, if you don’t want to be together anymore, if you don’t feel the same-“
“I do!” You gasp out, borderline hyperventilating. “I do, I still love you, Max, of course I-“
You break off into a sob, and he rocks you back and forth. His fingers press into your skin as he holds onto you tightly.
“I know,” he says, and the guilt rises in your chest. “I know you do. So how about you tell me what’s going on?”
You rear your head back to look him in the eye. He’s watching you, a calm, knowing look on his face. And really, you should’ve known. Max knows you better than anyone in the world. Of course he knows when you’re lying. He presses a hand to the side of your face, and you can’t help but melt into the touch. God, you’ve missed him so much.
“Max,” you try, rubbing your thumb on your own knee. “I don’t-“
“You can tell me,” he says, so gently, like you’re made of glass. “Please. You can tell me.”
You can feel him all around you. For the first time in weeks you feel safe.
“Just talk to me, please-“ he says, voice cracking. “I don’t want to lose you.”
You hate yourself for it. You wonder how many times you’ll have to break his heart.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” you say. “I really am, Max.”
You pull yourself out of his arms. You stand up and lean over him to press a kiss to his forehead. Then you walk away.
…..
You’re exhausted, constantly. Long weeks at work that consist of even longer days have you dragging your feet every time you come home. It’s a struggle to even make food for yourself, or do anything. Audrey’s generous enough to let you stay with her, even more generous as she does her best to take care of you. You’re falling apart. Anyone can see it. Your friends are catching on. They’re asking questions and whispering to each other about calling Max when they don’t think you can hear.
At night, when you close your eyes, all you see is him.
…..
Really, it’s your own stupid fault, you think. You’re in Monaco. Max lives here. It’s a small country. And Max’s friends live here too. So when you end up crying in the bathroom of a club, of course it’s Charles’ girlfriend who finds you. Of course she recognizes you and brings you to Charles with a worried look on her face. Of course you’re too upset to do anything but go with her. You’re not even sure why you’re crying at this point- you’re not that drunk. You think you just miss him, really. You’d gone out to try to get your mind off it. It hadn’t worked.
Charles takes one look at you and calls Max. You can’t exactly tell him not to without raising a whole bunch of questions. Max answers, because that’s just your luck, and within a few minutes Charles tells you he’ll be there soon to pick you up. Because of course he will. Because no matter how many times you break his heart, he’ll still come to your rescue.
It’s been almost a month now, since you asked for a break. Honestly, at this point, you’re just wishing he’d break up with you. You deserve that. He must be on the verge of it by now.
When you see Max’s car pull up outside of the club, you make your way over with a wave to Charles and his girlfriend. You nearly have a heart attack when you open the door and it’s not Max in the driver’s seat. It’s Daniel.
“Hi,” he says. “Heard you needed a ride.”
You blink, even as you sit down in the passenger seat. “Charles called Max.”
Daniel nods. “Yup. I was with Max. This,” he says, gesturing around at your surroundings, “seemed like a bad idea. So. I’m picking you up.”
You nod. “I didn’t ask him to call Max, you know. Just couldn’t exactly tell him not to.”
Daniel nods. “I know.”
He doesn’t ask where to take you. He also doesn’t head for your shared apartment with Max, which is likely where he was before this. Instead, he heads for one of few fast food restaurants in Monaco. In the empty drive thru, he orders and then looks at you expectantly. You just ask for a side of fries and a drink. It’ll help sober you up, which you figure is his point.
He pulls into a nearly empty parking lot and turns to you.
“Tell me,” he says, urgently. “I can help you figure this out. It’s not too late. But you have to tell me.”
You pick at your french fries, staring out of the front windshield. Danny may be driving, but this is Max’s car. You’ve sat shotgun here so many times- on late afternoon drives, on impromptu road trips, on rides home from galas that you didn’t belong at. You can hear Max telling you to buckle your seatbelt and you can almost feel his hand on your knee. God, you miss him.
“It’s not his fault,” you tell Daniel.
“Well, he thinks it is,” he answers. “Probably because you won’t give him a full answer.”
You burst into tears again at that. He hands you a napkin. Then he reaches for your hand.
“This isn’t you,” he says. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I know you love him. I’ve never seen two people who fit each other better. So tell me, or tell someone, or fuck, tell him. I don’t want to see him lose the best person he’s ever had over… something he doesn’t even understand.”
It hits you, then, like a tidal wave. You can’t lose him, either. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. How had you gone from strawberry wine and him walking you home to this? How could you have ended up here?
“This isn’t what I want,” you say, through your sobs. “I want Max. I didn’t want-“
Daniel squeezes your hand. “I’ll take you to him if you promise me you’ll talk about it. If you promise you’ll tell him what’s going on.”
You stare at your reflection in the windshield and wonder if you even deserve that chance. You’re almost positive you don’t, and even more sure that Max would give it to you anyways.
…..
You stumble into the warm apartment and nearly trip over your own shoes. You wonder, absentmindedly, if he’s left them there on purpose. If it would make it worse to move them.
He calls out from the bedroom. “Daniel?”
Daniel is behind you, shutting the door. “Max. I…”
“Is she okay?” Max asks, before he steps out into the living room. His eyes lock with yours. “Oh.”
“Hi,” you say.
“I’m going to go, so you two can talk,” Daniel says, and Max’s face crumples. “But call me if you need anything, okay?”
Max nods. You nod. Then Daniel steps out and closes the door behind him. You’re alone with Max. You shove your hands in your jacket pockets and step farther into the apartment as you kick your shoes off. There are dishes in the sink, a bottle of strawberry wine on the counter. Max sees you eyeing it.
“Wine?” He asks.
“No,” you say, hating the way his shoulders fall. “I, uh, I’m going to change, really quick. And then we should talk.”
He nods. You head for the bedroom. You have to walk past him on the way, and have to walk through his cologne. You want to reach out and touch him. You wonder, if you did, if he’d pretend nothing had ever happened. When you’ve changed into comfier clothes and see your tear streaked face in the mirror in the bedroom, you remind yourself how horribly unfair that would be.
You walk back out into the living room. Your hands are shaking, chest tight. Max is sitting in his usual spot in the corner of the couch. You sit down at the other end. The pain on his face makes your stomach ache. You pull your legs up onto the couch, curling in on yourself.
“First I want to apologize,” you say, softly. “I’ve been… really unfair.”
He shakes his head, ready to tell you it’s fine, but you cut him off.
“It’s not okay, Max,” you say. “This will be harder if you just forgive me at every wrong turn I’ve made.”
“We can figure it out, though,” he says, voice breaking on the last word. “We can, I know it, please don’t-“
He looks terrified, you realize. You don’t see him scared often. He’s small again, like he was that day sitting at the island. And suddenly you realize he thinks you’re here to break up with him. God, you feel sick.
“Max, honey,” you say. He keeps his eyes trained on the couch between the two of you. “I don’t want to break up. Not if you’ll still have me. But you deserve an explanation.”
You watch the tension drain from his face. Watch the weight melt away off his shoulders. He purses his lips, blows out a long breath. His eyes are glassy. You don’t see him cry often, and you hate that you’re the cause, even now. He crawls towards you on the couch and places his head in your lap. He takes your hand and drags it to his hair as he closes his eyes. You choke on a gasp at the feeling of his hand on yours.
“Please,” he says, quietly. “I’ve missed you. Please.”
So you sit on the couch in your shared apartment, and you run your fingers through his hair, and you tell him everything. You tell him about the burnout at work, about the insane schedule you’ve had, about them denying your time off to go to some of the races. You tell him about how much you miss him when he’s gone, how it makes your chest ache to wake up alone. You tell him about the hate you get online, the things people shout at you when you walk through the paddock. You tell him how exhausted you were, how you felt like you were failing him, how being at your worst made you feel like you were dragging him down. How you were afraid you would start being mean to him, how you wanted to get out before that happened. You tell him you thought space would make it better, but it only made it worse. Most of all, you tell him-
“None of it was you. It was me. I thought I was protecting you,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. “I thought it would be better like this.”
Max is quiet for a few moments after it all spills past your lips. You find yourself holding your breath. There’s a chance you’re too late, that there’s no coming back from this. Then you feel his hand against your jaw.
“I understand,” he says, voice raw and quiet. “And we can fix this. But I swear to god, if you ever pull some shit like that again I’ll-“
You burst into laughter before he finishes his threat, because what else can you do? You muffle the sound into your hands, even as Max keeps his hand on your jaw, even as he starts to laugh too. There’s nothing funny about it, really, but you can’t help it. Max sits up and presses himself against you, his head on your shoulder and his arms around your waist. It’s an awkward angle but it works. And then you’re gasping for air because you haven’t felt the weight of him in weeks, and he’s burying his face in your neck. You feel the tears land on your skin, and you’re not sure if they’re yours or his.
“You should quit your job,” he says, and you’re borderline hyperventilating now. “Take some time. Come with me. It’s not long now, and then it’ll be the break. The rest of it, we can figure out. Together.”
“You’re being too nice,” you tell him. “You should be mad at me. I’ve been-“
Max shushes you and pulls away. Panic claws at your chest at even the smallest loss of touch. He cups your face in his hands, though, and kisses your forehead.
“We have time to talk about all of it,” he says. “But what matters to me most is making sure you’re okay. The rest will come later. We can have the more difficult talks when we’re less tired and more stable.”
He kisses your temple. You nod and rub at your face. You lean over into him, forehead against his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” you say, one more time.
“I am, too,” he says. “For not noticing before it got so bad.”
You feel lighter. The weight isn’t completely gone, but it’s been lifted a bit. Shared, maybe. When you open your eyes, Max drags you into his chest and lays down on the couch with you in his arms. You can finally breathe again. The air feels clean and sweet like strawberries.
Eventually he coaxes you to bed. A fresh wave of tears hits you when you’re brushing your teeth in the bathroom next to him. He just holds you close through it. It should feel strange to crawl into bed next to him, you think, but it just feels like coming home, the way it always has. You think back to the lonely moments when he was away and you laid here alone, and you wonder how you ever gave any nights with him up. But you’re here now, and so is he, so you roll to face him. You press your face to his chest and breathe him in.
…..
In the morning, you’re in the bathroom when you hear him wake up. You hear the panicked noise he makes, the shuffling as he scrambles out of bed. He’s at the bathroom door in seconds, tugging on the handle and opening it. His shoulders heave as he stares at you, your toothbrush in your mouth, eyes wide.
“I thought,” he chokes out, eyes even wider than yours. “I woke up and you were gone and I thought-“
You yank the toothbrush out of your mouth and spit into the sink. “Shit. I didn’t even think- sorry-“
He doesn’t say another word, or leave you the chance to. Instead, he closes the gap between the two of you, takes your face in his hands, and kisses you. It’s been ages since you’ve felt his lips on yours. You’re putty in his hands immediately.
He drags you back into the bedroom, and you trip over his feet. His hands fall to your hips to keep you steady. He walks backwards towards the bed until he runs into it, knees buckling. He hauls you into his lap. When your knees settle on either side of his legs, when you feel the warmth of him underneath you, you swear you could cry.
His hands shove frantically at the hem of your sleep shirt. Yours do the same with his. His skin is hot to the touch- he’s still sleep-warm and soft. When you pull away from his lips, his eyes are half lidded.
“Max?” You ask, pressing your fingers to his side.
“Please,” he says. “Need you.”
You press a line of soft kisses to his jaw. He shudders underneath you. His hands pull at your hips, pulling you closer. You draw one hand up his spine, taking the shirt with you. He pulls it over his head. Yours follows his to the floor quickly after that. His hands fall to your waist, thumbs pressing into your ribs. You want to tell him everything. Want to tell him how sorry you are, how much you’ve missed him, how you could never live without him. How it tore you apart to try.
“I need you more,” you whisper into his ear, hoping it’ll be enough.
When you fall apart underneath and around and into him, he wraps his hand with yours and does the same. I love you tumbles over your lips and melts into his, the lips that repeat the same words back to you. You swear you taste strawberries.
…..
Max wakes up two months later to cold sheets and an empty bed, but he doesn’t panic. He can hear the whir of the coffee maker, can hear you humming in the kitchen and talking to the cats. There’s a sense of calm somewhere deep in his chest, one that hasn’t been there for a while, even after you came back to him. It’s the humming, he realizes drowsily. You used to hum all the time. You’d gone quiet for a while, but it’s back now. You’re back now. Piece by piece.
He rolls over, opens the bedside drawer. There’s the tray of corks, his watch, loose change and batteries and a faded post it note with something scrawled on it in your handwriting. And in the back corner, under a loose piece of paper, there’s a little black box. Inside, there’s a ring.
You’re not ready yet. You’re still healing. So is he. But you’re humming in the kitchen, making coffee, and he knows someday you both will be. For now, that’s enough.
You pop your head in through the doorway just after he shuts the drawer. “I have coffee for you.”
“Can’t we have it in bed?” He asks, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.
You laugh. “We have things to do today, Max. If I get back in bed with you we’ll never get any of them done.”
Max laughs, raises his eyebrows as he stretches his arms above his head. “Sounds like a good day to me.”
You roll your eyes affectionately and disappear again.
When he eventually joins you in the living room, his coffee is sitting on the table. You’re curled up under a blanket. He sits down and pulls you into his chest, wraps his arms around your waist from behind. He reads your book over your shoulder and takes a deep breath.
Any day with you is a good day.
Read the next part, On The Horizon, here!
a/n: sorrrryyyyyy! but I did promise a happy ending told you they’d be okay! thanks for reading!! title from the song that was definitely in the back of my head when I wrote Always Walk Me Home, which is probably how they ended up loving strawberry wine 🍓 & the song is sad so the angst had to happen. pls come talk to me ab this universe or any of my fics my ask box is open!!
Taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando
#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fic#max verstappen angst#max verstappen fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 fic#formula 1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#formula 1#max verstappen#mv33#honeywrites#how did I write this so fast? insomnia#I proofread this maybe once#baby’s first angst#baby’s first anything but fluff really#what better Lewis bday present than max angst#just kiddinggggg#if ur still reading the tags send me a 🍓
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every morning, and often throughout the night, you’ll stretch a foot over to satoru’s side of the bed and make contact with him.
what comes across as a simple desire for physical touch, is actually a habit of yours—one born from both fear and experience. it’d be far from the first time you woke up and he wasn’t there, but things are different now, and you need him to be there.
but this morning, all you feel is cold sheets.
you sit up and rub at your eyes before looking out the window—finding your usual view blurred with rain. you shiver a little at the sight, or maybe—at the foreign emptiness of the room.
and that’s when you realize that, not only is satoru missing from your bed—the small white crib off to your right is also missing your daughter.
you think the worst on instinct. irrational, you’re well aware—there’s no reason for such thoughts anymore, but they still manage to penetrate your freshly conscious mind nonetheless.
that is, until a pair of giggles sneak past the little crack in your bedroom door, acting as the perfect antidote to your conclusion jumping.
now, you find yourself getting out of bed just a bit too eagerly for a gloomy sunday morning—sliding into your slippers before shuffling towards the door and down the hallway. you wrap your arms around yourself as you walk, both hoping for and needing a little extra love from at least one, but preferably both of your babies.
satoru’s voice becomes clearer as you near, and you’re just around the corner when you hear him ask your daughter, who can’t talk yet, a question.
“yeah? you like the rain?”
an odd thing to ask a seven month old, though it makes a little more sense when you actually see them.
the two are in the kitchen, and your daughter—strapped into her high chair, is staring out the large window with her big blue eyes, completely mesmerized. satoru sits hunched over in a dining room chair, watching her with the exact same expression while he holds a plastic green spoon up to her mouth, like he’s interviewing her.
“satoru?” in unison, the duo turn their heads at the sound of your voice. “what are you doing?”
“killing time,” he smiles at you before turning to your baby, who now has her chubby little hands wrapped around a couple of his fingers. “we were starting to think you’d never come to. isn’t that right sweetheart?”
she babbles excitedly in response, seemingly agreeing.
the transition from bassinet to crib hasn’t been an easy one, and last night was probably one of her worst so far. you’ll always rock her, and while she falls asleep easy enough—the second she’s put down, she’ll wake up and cry.
“sorry,” you sigh, padding over to the two. “she was up most of the night, i—”
“needed the rest,” he finishes for you—wiggling his fingers around and earning himself a few more precious baby giggles. “we know.”
you give him a smile, and he returns it in a much more devious fashion—as if he’s saying you owe me for this. on any other day, you’d roll your eyes at something like that, but it’s almost nine am, and you crawled out of bed just moments ago—there isn’t much you wouldn’t do for him at this point.
satoru wraps an arm around one of your thighs as you stand next to him, and he pockets your grin—knowing it holds all the gratitude in the world, and a little something more.
though, you just end up batting him away when you notice the empty bowl sitting on the tray of your daughter’s high chair.
“she ate all her breakfast?” you ask, peering over to see if he hid any of her yogurt in the pouch of her silicone bib. “why don’t you ever do that for me?”
you lean down to boop a finger on her nose, and she kicks her feet in excitement—letting out something between a squeal and a laugh.
“‘cause you like me better, right?” satoru chimes in, holding his makeshift microphone in front of her with a toothy grin—which gets her to babble, for some reason. “oh? what’s that? i’m the best? your favourite?”
you bring a hand up to flick the back of his head—even though sometimes you think he’s right with the way she’s always smiling at him, but you just chalk it up to his high contrast, baby friendly look instead.
“think you misheard,” you point out, “sounded like ew dad, you stink to me.”
your husband—dramatic, and a sucker for your baby girl, flops down onto her little plastic tray in defeat.
“say it’s not true,” he whines, sneakily tickling one of her feet to get her to laugh but, consequently causing her to smack her hands on his head. “hey, hey!”
“that’s my girl,” you snort, and she babbles some more—loving the attention she’s getting from the two of you.
“hmm?” satoru leans in closer to her, as if she’s about to tell him a secret, and then he shields his mouth with his hand to respond. “yeah i know, i think that smell’s coming from over there too.”
the two smile at each other, and while it might be at your expense, you find yourself smiling too.
because you can see it now—satoru picking your daughter up from her first day of kindergarten, begging for the scoop on all her new classmates. he’d listen attentively, and pry just a little further every time she mentions a more masculine name—selfishly wanting to ensure that he’s still her favourite boy.
it’s just a thought of course, but you’ll definitely be holding him a little closer tonight.
“look, she’s doing it!” satoru pulls you back to the present moment, nudging your leg with his elbow. he’s given your baby her little silicone cup—the one she’s learning to drink from. she has it tilted back, spilling milk half into her mouth, and half into her bib. “kind of.”
once she’s quenched her thirst, she haphazardly tosses the cup onto her tray, and you note the white residue that sits on her top lip.
“well, satoru?” you grin at him, grabbing the long forgotten plastic green spoon—microphone, and holding it up to your husband’s mouth.
he furrows his brows and opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.
“how does it feel knowing your daughter has more of a stache right now than you ever will?”
he grins, at you and then her. “that’s my girl.”
#izurou#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x you#gojo fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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The stalker - Muzan & Reader
Warnings: modern AU, non-con smut (partially), somnophilia, rough smut, reverse 69, choking, stalker!Muzan, p in v smut, stalking, dark themes
Synopsis: living your ordinary life, little do you know that your every move is being silently and carefully watched by a man who has taken an interest in you. He is ready to do anything to claim you as his property
Requested by: anonymous
Wordcount: ~ 4.2k
MASTERLIST
It began with subtle occurrences, almost insignificant at first. Instances that didn't raise much concern or feel particularly peculiar. Doors that were once closed would be found ajar in the morning, leaving a lingering sense of doubt. You would wake up, finding yourself in a different position than the one you remember falling asleep in. Your dresser drawer, specifically the one where you kept your undergarments, would often be in disarray. And lately, upon awakening, you noticed your face dampened by traces of drool. Naturally, you attributed these incidents to exhaustion from juggling your college studies and late-night job, dismissing them as mundane.
However, as time progressed, unsettling events began to unfold. It was during one of those moments when you were seated on your bed in your underwear that unknown numbers flashed across your phone screen, accompanied by text messages that pierced through your sense of security. "You look so stunning."
Initially, you dismissed those messages, assuming they were mere notifications from your Instagram account sent to your phone. It seemed like an innocuous occurrence, easily brushed aside. At first, they arrived sporadically, appearing only once a month. Yet, as time passed, their frequency multiplied, transitioning to twice a month and now occurring nearly every other night. The content of these messages took a disturbing turn, growing increasingly specific and disquieting, causing a deep sense of unease to settle within you.
"Drive home safe."
As you prepared to leave work, the unsettling message arrived once again, this time just as you were about to embark on your drive home. A wave of
apprehension washed over you, causing you to remain seated in the empty parking lot, cautiously scanning your surroundings for any signs of a presence. To your relief, there were no other cars in sight, and your coworkers had long departed for their respective homes. Despite the fear creeping within you, you chose to delete the message, attributing it to a potential prank from one of your mischievous coworkers.
Driving home, you pulled into the parking garage of your apartment building. Stepping out of your car, an eerie sensation enveloped you, a nagging feeling that someone's eyes were fixated on your every move. Instinctively, you halted and swiftly turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of the observer. Yet, the scene that greeted you was one of silence and emptiness, devoid of any visible presence. Shaking off the unease, you attributed the disconcerting feeling to the stress accumulated from your demanding schedule of school and work. In an attempt to lighten the tension, you giggled softly, convincing yourself that it was all in your imagination, before resuming your stride towards the elevator.
Entering your apartment, a sense of relief washed over you as you finally arrived at the sanctuary of your own space. However, as you began to settle in, the disarray of your belongings caught your attention. The drawer where you kept your panties remained open, a chaotic mess within. Recollecting the hurriedness of your morning routine, you swiftly closed the drawer, intending to address the mess later. Shrugging off the unsettling occurrence, you proceeded to undress, casually discarding your clothes onto the floor, and made your way to the bathroom.
With the water running, you allowed your bath to fill, seeking solace in its soothing embrace. As you eased into the warmth, the events of the day lingered in your mind, a subtle reminder of the uncanny incidents that had unfolded. However, immersed in the tranquility of the moment, you hoped that the relaxing waters would wash away the lingering unease, allowing you to find respite from the disquieting experiences that had punctuated your day.
You sat there in the silence, your apartment's ambient sounds merging with the gentle subsiding of the water in your bath. The soothing warmth caressed your tired body, lulling you into a state of drowsiness. Yielding to the tranquility, you closed your eyes, surrendering to relaxation. However, amidst the peacefulness, a distinct sound reached your ears — footsteps, unmistakably within the confines of your own apartment.
Startled, you swiftly sat up, instinctively crossing your arms to cover your breasts, and voiced your presence aloud, "Hello?!" The silence that followed offered no response, but the mysterious footsteps ceased their approach. Shaking your head, you muttered to yourself in a hushed tone, "Stupid. It's probably your neighbor's kids running down the hall again." Dismissing the unease that had momentarily enveloped you, you carried on with your bath, eventually finishing and stepping out of the water. As the last remnants drained away, you turned around, enveloping yourself and your damp hair in towels.
Leaving the bathroom, you made your way to the bedroom and settled onto your bed. Glancing at your phone, you noticed a new message and tapped to read it. "Your laugh is so cute." The words on the screen caught your attention, evoking a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty, as a flicker of discomfort ran through you. You stared at the message wide-eyed, your mind racing with uncertainty about its meaning. Did it imply that someone had overheard your laughter at work? Were they possibly a classmate? Or perhaps they had been lurking in the parking garage earlier. The weight of the unknown hung heavy upon you, prompting you to abruptly jump out of bed and hastily make your way to the front door.
With a sense of trepidation, you peered through the peephole, scanning the dimly lit hallway as best as you could. No signs of anyone in sight — no figures walking past, no individuals lingering outside. You double-checked the locks on your door, giving it a forceful tug to ensure its secure fastening. Satisfied that the entrance was indeed locked, you made your way back into your room, feeling a slight relief wash over you.
Preparing for bed, you attended to your nightly routine, diligently drying your hair, brushing it out, cleansing your face, and meticulously brushing your teeth. Slipping into your favorite sleepwear — a loosely buttoned plaid shirt sans a bra, accompanied by a pair of comfortable white panties — you settled down in bed. Glancing at your phone one last time before your heavy eyelids succumbed to sleep, you reasoned that the bath you had taken earlier had taken its toll on your fatigue, compounded by the arduous efforts you had put into your work.
Unbeknownst to you, the sounds of your bedroom door opening and the soft, calculated footsteps approaching your bedside went unnoticed, concealed beneath the veil of your slumber. Standing above you was a figure, their countenance obscured by a black ski mask, their hands adorned with black latex gloves. Clad in a black short-sleeved shirt, dark blue denim jeans, and black boots, they silently observed your peaceful rest, their breathing growing increasingly labored. Then, with measured steps, they retreated, briefly illuminating the bathroom light to obtain a clearer view of your form as you slept.
The light from the bathroom was just enough for him to see, but not bright enough to wake you up. Muzan walked back over beside your bed and reached down for your blanket. Gently pulling it up and off of you, so Muzan could see you. He stood there and looked you up and down; he grabbed the growing bulge in his pants and gave it a squeeze. Muzan stared at your nearly naked body and noticed your unbuttoned shirt, he slowly reached down and gently pulled your shirt up till it fell to the side.
He saw that you had decided not to wear a bra tonight and decided to be a little bold. Reaching down, Muzan cupped your breast in his large hand. The black-haire man gently squeezed, which caused you to stir, freezing him in place. As you started to settle, Muzan squeezed and rubbed your breast more and more. Noticing your nipple starting to get hard, Muzan pinched it between his fingers and gently started to pull. This got more of a reaction out of you as you let out a tiny moan before stirring once again.
He pulled his hand away and stepped back, undoing his belt, unzipping his pants, and reaching into them as he pulled out his cock. Gripping his cock in his hand, Muzan started to stroke himself, grunting quietly as he watched over you. As precum oozed out the tip of his cock, it covered his hand and smeared his cock as Muzan rubbed it up and down. Muzan stepped forward and put one knee on the bed, positioning himself over you. Muzan stroked himself over your chest, grunting and groaning silently as he reached his climax. Unable to stop himself, he started shooting thick, hot ropes of cum onto your chest.
This didn't wake you up, and this made him smile and made him more bold. Muzan reached his hand between your legs and gently pressed his fingertips against you. He brushed his fingertips against the cloth of your panties as he pushed down. Muzan rubbed you up and down through your panties, watching your face as your body began to react on its own. You started breathing harder, your face began to express pleasure as your eyes shut tighter and your mouth started to open. You let out soft moans between breaths as your body reacted to his touch.
He could feel you starting to heat up from his touch on his fingertips. Muzan started to press down firmer, finding your clit when you let out a louder moan as his fingers brushed up against it. Muzan started to rub your clit in circles as he watched you react more and more. You started panting harder and harder as Muzan rubbed your clit and pussy more and more until you couldn't handle it anymore and came. You let out a loud moan as your body shook from your orgasm.
He smiled, watching you tremble and shake, but that smile slowly faded. You started to wake up, your eyes opened and shut as you tried to adjust to the dimly lit room. All you saw was a large shadow standing above your bed. Your eyes opened wide, and your mouth opened as you started to scream. Before you could let out a louder scream, Muzan jumped on top of you and covered your mouth with his hand. He pulled his free hand to his face and motioned for you to shush.
You started to cry from that situation, a large man pinning you down on your bed and keeping you from calling for help. You tried to move, but you didn't know what was wrong. Was it his weight keeping you from moving, or were you paralyzed from fear? All you could do was stare up at him, your eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room. In a dim light, you could see he was a very handsome man, and that he seemed not too old but that terrified you even more because you had no idea who he could be. Your eyes started to burn from the tears welling up, and your body shook out of fear.
"Shhh. Don't scream. If you scream, I'll have to hurt you, and I don't want to do that," Muzan said to you, his voice deep and his tone stern. The grip Muzan had over your mouth was tight, and he pushed down on you. His body weight kept you pinned underneath him. You felt something else pressed against your stomach. It was hard, a little wet, and you could feel it twitching against your bare skin. As you lifted your head just enough to look down, you could see it was his cock pressing against your stomach. You laid your head back down and stared at him, your eyes even wider after seeing his cock.
"If you behave, I won't hurt you, but if you try to fight back or scream. I'm going to hurt you and I'm going to hurt you badly. Do you understand me?" He asked you, leaning down a little, his tone still stern, and his voice deep. You stared back up at him and slowly nodded.
Muzan pulled his hand off your mouth as he leaned away from your face, his body still sitting on top of you, and his cock now rested on your stomach.
You wiped the tears away from your face. You noticed your shirt was opened, so you covered yourself back up as you looked up at him. "W-what do you want?" you asked him, trying to put up a tough act, but it failed as your voice trembled.
"You. All I've ever wanted is you. And now I have you and no one can stop me." Muzan said that to you, his tone changing as he stared at you. Muzan adjusted his legs, grabbed each of your legs, and spread them, so he could be between them. Muzan was strong and easily moved you around like a doll. You were powerless to stop him as he positioned himself between your legs. He grabbed his cock and started to stroke himself, precum oozed from the tip and dripped onto your stomach. As you looked down at his dick, you could see that he was packing a monster. It was as thick as a soda can and almost as long as your forearm.
Before you could even beg him to stop, Muzan pulled your panties to the side and pressed the tip of his cock against your pussy. You gripped your sheets tight in your hands as you gritted your teeth together from the pain. You could feel the tip of his cock beginning to push inside you, spreading your pussy like it had never been spread before. You let out pained gasps for air as you stared up at the ceiling, eyes opened wide. You could hear him groaning as Muzan pushed in slowly, and from under his breath, you could hear him say. "Fuck... you're so tight."
Every inch felt like hell, his cock was so thick it filled you up almost instantly. As Muzan inched in deeper, you tried to catch your breath, but the pain made it hard as you gasped for air. Finally, his cock was inside you completely, and you could finally breathe as you lifted your head and looked down. You could see your stomach bulging from his cock. You dropped your head back as your mind started to go blank from the pain slowly turning into intense pleasure.
The pleasure was cut short as Muzan started to slide his cock out, slowly. You let out a pained scream, but all that came out was an inaudible squeal. Muzan looked down at you with a smile, your mouth open was an irresistible invitation. Muzan leaned down and gave you a kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth, sloppily swirling his tongue around inside your mouth, his saliva mixing with yours. You didn't fight back as you closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into the kiss even more.
His cock continued to slide out of your pussy inch by inch, it felt as if he was pulling your insides out as he continued to pull out. Eventually reaching the tip of his cock, he stopped, as he continued to kiss you. Muzan pulled away from the kiss and looked down at you, a string of spit connecting your lips. "Here we go, baby, it's going to get real rough. So hold on tight," Muzan said to you with a loving smile. This was his warning, but it didn't prepare you for what was going to happen next.
You felt his cock thrust inside you in one quick motion. Your stomach felt full again and you couldn't breathe. You stared up at him in pained ecstasy. Muzan slid out again and quickly thrust back inside you. He pounded your pussy with body-shaking thrusts, making it hard to think or speak. All that came out were loud moans and garbled words that made no sense.
It didn't take you long to cum, but black-haired continued to fuck you through your orgasm. The waves of pleasure mixed with searing pain made your brain melt. You could hear his balls slapping against your wet cunt, the sound of your pussy being stirred up by his monster cock, and his moans. You looked up at him and saw his face, Muzan was happy.
You felt his hands grab you by the throat, they were large and easily fit around your throat. Then Muzan started to squeeze hard, choking you. You grabbed his wrists and weakly tried to pull them off, but it was no use. He was much stronger than you and his grip was tight. You tried to tell him to stop, but nothing came out, and soon you started to gasp for air. Gripping his wrists with your nails now, you tried to dig in to get him to stop. Your vision went blurry as you started to lose consciousness, your eyes welled up in tears, hoping this would end. Your body betrayed you again as you started to cum violently on his cock, squirting and making a mess on your bed.
Your stomach filled with heat as his cock swelled inside you, and his thrusts became more erratic and rough. As you started to black out, you could feel the hot sensation of his cock cumming inside you. Muzan thrust deep inside as he started to cum, filling your cunt with his thick, hot seed. Muzan let out a loud groan, maintaining his tight grip around your throat as your body went limp and you blacked out. He finished cumming inside you, sliding his cock out of your ruined pussy. His hands released your throat as he got off of you. Muzan smiled as he watched your gaping hole ooze out his cum onto the bed.
He got off the bed and stretched. This had been way better than he thought it was going to be. Muzan didn't want to stop there, and it seemed his cock felt the same way. It bounced as it throbbed and got hard again. Muzan looked over at you and watched your passed-out body. Muzan had already gone this far, so there was no real point in stopping. He grabbed your body and adjusted you on the bed, hanging your head off the edge. Muzan stroked his cock and positioned himself as he pressed his cock against your lips.
It didn't take much for you to open your mouth as his cock slid in easily with no protest from you. Your mouth gaped open and struggled to take him fully. Muzan fit himself in your mouth as much as he could, gently thrusting as he started to fuck your face. Muzan got on top of you and ripped your panties off in one quick motion. Using his large hands, Muzan spread open your legs as he went down on you. He started to eat you out passionately as he fucked your face. Muzan could taste his own cum mixed with yours as his tongue forced its way inside you. You moaned happily as he enjoyed the pussy he had been looking at for months.
You slowly started to regain consciousness, and to your horror, you could feel your mouth filled with this large rod. Your eyes opened and blinked as you lay there in shocked horror. You tried to push him away with your hands against his thighs, but again Muzan easily overpowered you. You could feel your pussy being eaten out, but the pain of your throat being fucked confused you again. You couldn't say a word because you were so focused on trying to breathe. His cock filled your mouth and went down your throat over and over.
Your face became a mess as your tears and drool mixed. His cock, which had scared you before, started to taste good, and your tongue moved on its own as you licked his shaft. Your brain again started to shut down as the pain and pleasure mixed, and you couldn't even collect your thoughts. You could feel his cock grow in your mouth, and you realized what was going to happen next, but you didn't have a choice in this. You were just along for the ride as Muzan forced his cock down your throat and shot his cum down it. The man used you as his cum dump, filling your tummy with his hot, thick seed. Your pussy clamped around his tongue as you started to cum again, your thighs squeezing his head, while the only noise you made was a muffled, messy squeal.
He pulled his cock out of your mouth and stroked himself, shooting out the last strings of cum on your face. You looked like a mess, your face covered in tears, drool, and cum. You just lay there, catching your breath, but Muzan wasn't done. He picked you up in his arms and easily moved you around. You were nothing but a doll to him, and he was going to do whatever he wanted with you. Picking you up, Muzan tossed you back on the bed, on your stomach. You didn't fight back; it was pointless, you realized, as you just let it happen. He grabbed your ankles and pulled your legs off the bed.
He kicked your legs open and positioned himself behind you. You didn't get a moment to rest as you felt his cock gaping your sore pussy again. This position felt so different; you could feel his cock scraping your insides as Muzan stirred you up. He leaned down and reached his hand around your throat, pulling your head back, forcing you to look up at him as he pounded your pussy. Muzan slammed your body into the mattress over and over. You didn't fight back; you just moaned like the good little slut he was training you to be. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, inviting him to kiss you.
He smiled and leaned down, kissing you. Your tongues wrestled and swirled around in each other's mouths. You moaned into his mouth as you felt your pussy being ruined by his cock. You could feel his throbbing dick pushing in deeper than before. Your hands gripped the sheets tight as you braced yourself against the bed. You heard your pussy being stirred up by his cock as his balls slapped against you, filling the room with their lewd sounds. You loved feeling his tongue in your mouth and his low, bestial growls echoing as Muzan grunted and groaned.
His cock continued its endless pounding as it fucked you senseless once again. You started to moan out loud and yelled, "Fuck! Fuck! More!"
He smiled at your brainless request, putting one hand on your hand and pushing you down into your mattress as he stood back up. You felt his hands grip your hips tight, and then it happened. Muzan started fucking you furiously, his cock pounding your pussy over and over. Your bed started to shake and pound into the floor. You clung to the bed with whatever strength you felt like you had left. This merciless assault just made you scream and beg for more.
You were nothing but a toy in his hands as Muzan pulled you into him while fucking you. You couldn't help but cum over and over again, squirting on his cock and making a mess on your floor as you squirted and leaked his cum out onto the floor. It didn't take him long to reach his limit as Muzan started to shout, forcing his cock deep inside you, forcing the air out of you as he filled you with his seed once again. It felt warm in your belly, and you lay there with your mouth wide open, but not a single sound came out.
"May I at least have your name?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of curiosity and alarm. "And who the fuck are you? How did you get into my house?" The words escaped your lips, fueled by a surge of fear and disbelief.
His red eyes bore into yours, and a smirk played at the corners of their lips. The silence stretched, thick with tension, before they finally spoke, their voice laced with a hint of amusement. "My name is not important. What matters is that I got what I’ve been craving for months. But if you need to know, I go by Muzan," he said cryptically, his words sending shivers down your spine. “I would be back again. Leave your front door open," the man added, and after adjusting his clothes, he left your house through the front door, leaving you filled up and leaking his cum.
You slept the night away and woke up sore and even more tired, reflecting on how the night had gone and finding yourself wet at the thought.
From then on, you left your front door open, anticipating your "stalker" to pay you another visit. The longing in your soul grew with each passing day, and you wondered if Muzan would ever come back to claim you once again.
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