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fangirl-dot-com · 6 months

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Charles Leclerc - Arthur, you are not French...yeah Charles, drag his ass!

I’ve been excited to write this chapter! I know that reader is a Red Bull driver, but I am a Tifosi through and through. Charles holds such a special place in my heart (but so does Max). I feel like one of those “breaking my silence – how I got into F1,” low and behold, I got into the sport from that one Ferrari thirst trap where Charles is lying on the couch. Yeah, you know, that one.

Anywho, I write these little things before I even get to writing the story and sometimes I don’t even know where I’m going with it. I know it's not Christmas yet, but the people spoke - SO HERE WE GO!

Sadly, the tag list is closed to do us reaching the 50 people mark! I never thought that I’d get there though with my story! So thank you to every one of you for making that happen!

Like always, comments, questions, concerns, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love you all <;3

Your beanie had started to itch. You had needed it outside due to the cold weather, but now that you were in the car with the heat cranked, it was starting to get a little too warm. As you pulled up to the red light, your hand quickly yanked the hat off. Not to your surprise, your hair was sticking in all directions. That’s ok, you could fix it before you walked into the house. The light turned green, and you had to remind yourself that this was a regular car, on a regular street. Not a hybrid-engine-ran rocket ship that exceeded 300 kilometers per hour on sweet Grand Prix asphalt.

This year, you had finally accepted Arthur’s invitation for Christmas. Earlier, you had done Christmas morning and afternoon with Max, Kelly, and Penelope. It was everything you could have wished for. And now you were going to spend the rest of the evening with your best friend and his family. You were a tab bit nervous. Sure, you had met them on a handful of occasions, but you tried not to get too close. They were always at grand prixes for Arthur, not you.

You glanced at the presents that were stacked on the passenger side. The most important one, however, was placed in a bag on the floor. You were not about to let that fall over and possibly break. You knew it was made to be sturdy, but you couldn’t be sure. Arthur had given you the gate key. You pulled up to the little black box and pressed the numbers. You rolled your eyes as you realized that it was just Charles’s and Arthur’s racing numbers squished together.

Arthur had also reminded you that Lorenzo was not going to be joining due to him being at his wife’s family’s for the holiday. That was one less person to impress you had told yourself.

You pulled into their driveway and parked your car. It was not as impressive at Charles’s custom 488 Ferrari Pista Spider. It wasn’t as if you were almost drooling at the sight of it. Knowing yourself, you’d probably be too scared to drive it to actually enjoy it. Max also had a Ferrari, maybe he’d let you drive it.

In a parking lot and not exceeding 5 kph. You snorted. Yep, that was Max.

You did however, have your eye on two special cars. But you wanted to wait a bit before purchasing. You Pinterest board was full of different ideas, but you had to be careful. Maybe Christian could help you out with purchasing. You technically hadn’t bought this car, it was a gift from Lorenzo. You wouldn’t trade it for the world, but it might be nice to have more than one car. Besides, multiple drivers had multiple cars. You’d just join their ranks.

Juggling the presents, you walked to the front door and pressed the doorbell. Your face was hardly visible over the tops of the boxes. The door opened and a familiar voice sounded.

“Mon Dieu, let me help you.” Presents were being taken from the big stack.

“Thank you Charles.” You prided yourself on being one of the few people who could recognize the difference between Arthur’s and Charles’s voices. He didn’t reply as he took the presents farther into the house. You followed him through the door and toed off your shoes. Your eyes caught all the lights and decorations in the house. Growing up, you didn’t have such things. Your family always said that being in karting was always going to be your present. Nothing more, nothing less. There were no cookies for Santa and no tree to decorate.

As you walked more into the warm house, the decorations just kept getting better. Where Max’s house was decorated by Kelly who like a clean Christmas aesthetic, the Leclerc household leaned towards the warmer decorations. The lights didn’t necessarily match and flickered colorful light. The stockings weren’t the same color: they showed personality that matched their owner. Even the ornaments weren’t all from the same container. You found Charles staring down at the presents that he had taken from you.

“Who are these for?” he turned his head to look at you.

You snorted, “They’re for your family.” His eyes widened as he rubbed his chin.

“You didn’t have to.”

You only shrugged as you began to take off your coat, “I felt like I did. You all have been so kind to invite me here on a holiday that I couldn’t come empty handed.” Charles gestured for your jacket and you gave it to him.

“You can look around some more if you’d like to. Arthur and maman will be back from the store soon.” Your cheeks heated at the thought of him catching you ogling at his home. You shook the thought away and looked at everything a little bit closer.

Like all homes seemed to have, there was a wall filled with picture frames. Some were of each child; some had the full family. It was nice to see all 5 of them together in the center one. You cocked you head at one of them though. You all but tiptoed to get a closer look. It was one of Charles and Arthur, and then an unfamiliar but familiar man stood between them.

“That’s Jules. If you were wondering.”

You jumped in place, not noticed that he had snuck up behind you. You looked over and saw that a sad smile had graced his face. Arthur had told you little about him. Charles and Lorenzo would always have been much closer to him.

“I met him once. During karting,” you trailed off. Charles raised his eyebrows.

“Really?” It seemed as though the breath had been knocked out of him.

You gave him a comforting smile, “Yeah. My race was right after yours. I think it was back in 2010,” you looked back at the picture, “and you won that day. I watched him cheer for you like he was the proudest person there that day. He was in a racing suit and had a helmet. I thought that he had come straight from a race or something. But, I only remember wishing that I had someone there for me like you had.”

Charles now had a guess as to what day that was. He vaguely remembered finally beating Max and feeling so happy. But, he didn’t remember Jules having a helmet. He took the picture down so that the two of you could look closer. It was definitely not taken the day that you were talking about, but the way you talked about him intrigued Charles. He gave you a head nod, silently saying to continue.

“That day, I also won my race. It hadn’t been the easiest, but the boys were too busy pushing each other off that they didn’t even notice me. I was able to overtake and win. The boys though, weren’t the only ones who didn’t notice. My parents weren’t around when I looked for them. I must have turned around so many times, just trying to find them, but I never did. I had taken my kart back to my station when someone tapped me on the shoulder. He scared the ever-loving crap out of me, but he held my shoulder and told me that I did a great job.”

Your eyes were slightly watering at the confession. Charles just continued to look at you.

“I knew who he was. He was the man who always cheered for the Justin Bieber look-a-like who liked to push a certain Dutchman off the track, into a puddle, and claim it was just an inchident.” Charles snorted.

“I did not look like Justin Bieber.”

“Whatever floats your boat.” He gave you a look. “American expression. Anyway, after he said that he gave me a hug before my dad came stomping over, complaining about something, I don’t even remember. But all I know is that he made my entire day. My godfather wasn’t able to visit that much or come see me race. So, it was nice to have someone in my corner, even if they weren’t truly there for me.”

Charles hung the picture back on the wall. The two of you stood there for a quiet moment before Charles spoke up. “How’s your godfather?”

You inhaled sharply. “He died in 2020. Caught some illness in 2018 and wasn’t able to recover.”

It broke Charles’s heart to hear you talk about it so nonchalantly.

“Does Arthur know?”

You nodded your head. “He caught me crying the first year of his anniversary. Made me spill the beans about what happened. He thought he needed to go beat someone up.” You let out a wet chuckle. When did you even start crying? Looking at Charles, you saw that he was crying too. You continued, “Lorenzo, he, uh, died the day before I debuted in F2.”

Memories hit Charles like an 18-wheeler. That was you? He remembered that most of the F1 drivers had been invited since the F1 and F2 races were so close together. Hell, even Max was given the opportunity to give the winner the trophy. He remembers watching you dominate that race. He watched you offer that trophy to the sky. He saw a hunger that he hadn’t seen in a long time.

He finally spoke up, “You were incredible.”

“Thank you,” you paused before adding, “he’d be proud of you. Jules, I mean.” You looked back at the picture and how it seemed right at home amongst the others.

“Lorenzo would be proud of you as well.” You flashed him a grateful smile, full of teeth. He mirrored, dimples prominent.

You threw your head back and laughed. Charles cocked his head.

“What’s the matter?” he barely got out as he began to laugh as well.

You poked his cheeks, “You and Thur have the same dimples.” Charles rolled his eyes and ruffled your hair. You pouted. “Rude.”

He was about to reciprocate but the sound of the door opening caught the two of yours attention. Charles quickly pushed you into a dark room. You gave him a confused look before he put a finger to his lips. You smirked back and stayed silent.

Pascale walked in first followed by Arthur. Charles greeted his mother and then brother.

“I saw Y/n’s car in the driveway. Where is she?” Arthur looked around the house.

“She went to the bathroom, but hasn’t come back. I think I scared her off,” Charles faked a sad look.

Arthur flashed a comforting smile to his brother. “I’ll go find her. Hopefully she didn’t fall in or something.” That almost made you laugh.

Arthur flipped on the lights to the hallway. This was your chance. He barely got past the doorframe before you jumped out onto him.

His squeal echoed through the room, laughter following it. In your grand scheme, you had accidentally fallen on top of him. Your giggles continued as Arthur tried to push you off. He finally gave up after a few moments. You knew you probably looked ridiculous, but honestly you didn’t care. You swear you heard a click of a camera, but you disregarded it.

“Are you done?” Arthur sarcastically asked.

“No, I’m actually quite comfortable. Thank you for asking though,” you smirked. After a few more moments later, Arthur quickly rolled you off and got up. You let out a huff before making grabby hands at him. He rolled his eyes and pulled you up.

You were finally able to greet Pascale. She brought you into a hug and did the two kisses. You reciprocated. It came naturally after being teammates with Arthur for so long. You smiled at the memory of him doing it to you for the first time. He was so embarrassed after until you calmed him down enough to say that you didn’t mind. You knew it was a part of his culture and that he shouldn’t feel embarrassed to do so.

“Thank you for inviting me.” You shot her a shy smile. She rubbed your back before exiting the hug.

“There is no need for thanks. Arthur has been begging for years.” A noise of protest rang through the air.

“I have not.”

“Non, it’s true. He has.” Charles looked at his brother. Arthur had a look of betrayal that sent you spiraling into another laughing fit.

By the time you were finished, Arthur gave you a look.

“Where’s you Christmas sweater?” You looked down at the one you were wearing. You thought it looked just fine. It was a nice dark green and Kelly had complimented you many times.

“I thought this looked nice?” You were beginning to doubt. Maybe you couldn’t do this Christmas thing.

Arthur shook his head before disappearing down a hallway.

You glanced at Charles and whispered, “I ruined it didn’t I?” You looked down at your feet.

“Non gosse, you didn’t ruin anything. Just look.” You looked back up and saw that Arthur now had another sweater in his hands. (translation : no kid)

“I can’t believe I forgot to give you this. Sorry Y/n, we normally wear ‘ugly’ Christmas sweaters to celebrate. The one you have on is fine, but this is the Leclerc celebration now.” He all but shoved you towards a bathroom so that you could change. You slipped the other dark green sweater on after you took off your first one.

The front made you laugh. It wasn’t ugly per say, Arthur must have toned it down for you. On the front was the Grinch. It was actually kind of cute if you thought about it. You folded your first sweater and walked out. Now you noticed that Charles’s had a bright orange sweater with a gamer Santa on it; Arthur’s actually lit up; and Pascale had a cute one with a reindeer on it.

When he noticed your return, Arthur’s arms shot up. “Now you look festive!”

“How long did it take you to find that one TurTur?” You motioned your finger up and down, pointed at his sweater.

His arms crossed protectively around it as he let his jaw hang. “I’ll have you know that this is imported.”

You gave him a bombastic side eye. “Sure.”

Pascale clapped her hands, “Picture time by the tree!”

You kind of awkwardly stood there as she took pictures of the two boys. You warmly smiled as she gushed over the two of them. You made your way to the kitchen and picked up two bottles. Were these alcoholic? You squinted at the label.

“Y/n!” You froze and looked at the family of three. Arthur was snickering.

“You know you’re not allowed to drink yet.” You rolled your eyes.

Charles shot you a mischievous smile. “Gosse, come, we’ll send a picture to old Maxy. Maybe give him a heart attack.”

You smirked back as you walked with the two bottles. You posed in front of the tree with the glasses on either side of you. The four of you laughed as you set them down. You wanted to make a run for it, as to not ruin the pictures, but Pascale insisted that she wanted one of the three of you.

Your heart swelled as she took a picture of you in the middle of Arthur and Charles. She also insisted to get one of just you and Arthur. Your cheeks heated as you caught her muttering about a picture to show your kids one day. You only hoped that Arthur hadn’t heard.

He did and his heart soared at the thought.

Once the pictures were done, everyone was able to have a few snacks and drinks, yours of course being non-alcoholic.

Then it was time for the presents. The thing you were worried about the most. You soon found yourself seated on the floor in a half circle. Pascale was the only one in a chair, but you didn’t blame her. The boys were the ones to pass out the presents. To your surprise, you had received three presents. Your eyes wanted to water, but you blinked the tears away.

They all opened the ones from you first.

Arthur lit up like a Christmas tree (pun intended) when he saw what you had gotten him. The two of you had been shopping earlier in the year, when you had come across a watch shop. Arthur had wanted to buy a specific one, but was heartbroken when they said that they were sold out. But, while Arthur was having a crisis about it, you secretly asked to be put on the waitlist. They had said that they couldn’t be 100 percent that you’d get one, but there was no harm in asking.

Surprisingly, when you got back for a small break, there was a package from the store waiting for you. You had also taken it to another watch store to have something added.

“Turn it over,” you whispered, scared of his next reaction. He inhaled sharply at what the engraving read.

January 25, 2020 – Best Friends for the Rest of Our Live, Keep at it TurTur!

Arthur quickly clamored over to you and wrapped you in a deep hug. Again, you heard the sound of a camera, but dismissed it.

Next Charles opened his. It wasn’t as sentimental as Arthur’s but you tried your best. Before hand, you had asked what type of jewelry Charles likes. You knew he was a ring and bracelet guy, but had rarely seen him with a necklace. So, you got him a simple one that he could wear with any outfit.

He thanked you with a warm smile.

Pascale was very happy with hers. Knowing that she had a hair salon, you googled many gift ideas for her. But every sing one of them to come up was always a pair of scissors. Wanting to do better, you did some more digging. Finally, you decided on one of those fancy circle vacuums that moves by itself. You knew how your back hurt after sweeping up a floor. You couldn’t imagine how her’s might feel. She also gave you a hug.

Now it was your turn.

The first present was from Arthur and it had you in tears. There in a rectangular box was a new pair of Lightning McQueen crocs.

“You know this is like my third pair right?”

He only nodded, “Yes, but are those pairs signed by Lightning McQueen himself?” Your eyes bulged as you turned them over.

You were expecting Owen Wilson’s signature, but when you read it, you laughed even harder. There on the bottom, in fancy script, was Charles’s signature. You looked over at Charles as you wiped your eyes.

“I’m honored sir.”

Charles rolled his eyes, and touched his heart, as to accept the thanks. His present wasn’t as funny, but it was appreciated. You guessed that Arthur had told him what your favorite restaurant was because his gift was a hefty gift card. Your eyes widened when you saw the total.

Pascale’s was very sentimental though. In her present were multiple pictures in frames. Some you noticed that she must have gotten from the internet or had Arthur reach out to Vito. The one that made you tear up was one of the last pictures taken of you and Lorenzo. Your smile was so bright as you held you trophy. You were looking into the camera, but Lorenzo was looking and smiling down at you. Your fingers traced his face.

You placed the pictures down and brought her into a giant hug. After you were done, you wiped your eyes, overcome with emotion. Arthur clapped his hands to bring everyone’s attention to him. You almost jumped out of your skin.

“All right, party time!” He raised his arms and started to walk toward the kitchen.

Your eyes widened as you remembered something. “Wait!”

The three of them stared at you. You inhaled.

“I have one more thing. For all three of you.” They looked at you with a puzzled look. You walked over to the counter where you had placed the black bag that you came with. You gestured for them to come over.

Arthur cocked his head, “Y/n, why’d you bring a helmet bag? We swapped helmets already.” His accent got thicker as he got more confused.

You shook your head slightly as you let out a shaky exhale. You carefully started to unzip the bag. It was true, what Arthur said. The contents were a helmet.

“Gosse, is this your new helmet for next year? It’s very outdated and I don’t think this is safe, ” Charles questioned, confused as to why you’d bring a helmet to Christmas.

However, Pascale let out a gasp as her eyes danced over the helmet, now in your hands. She put her hands to her mouth. She had recognized it immediately.

“Is this?” The rest of the question went unsaid, but you knew what she was going to say. You nodded you head and handed it to her. She turned it around, expecting all the angles. She let out a wet laugh as she carefully and slowly handed it over to Charles. Arthur stood close, looking at it as well.

“Arthur, before you got here, I was telling Charles of how I was able to meet your godfather,” you started. “And I wanted to tell you how thankful I was for his encouragement. I knew that he had come straight from a race, because he was still wearing his suit and he carried a helmet.”

Charles made a confused face, “But he didn’t have a helmet. His hands were both empty, because he caught Arthur when he ran over to him after he showed up.” You could tell that his mind was trying to connect the dots.

“Well. He wouldn’t have had the helmet,” you trailed off. Arthur’s head shot up.

“Because he gave it to you,” Arthur finished. Charles inhaled sharply as he looked over the protective gear in his hands.

Pascale had come close to you, a hand around your shoulder that rubbed up and down, trying to give some comfort.

The two boys looked as if they were going to cry. Charles let Arthur hold it.

“How? Why?” Charles questioned, tears threatening to fall.

“Well, I thought it had gotten destroyed or thrown away. I left it at my parent’s house, and when I told them I was moving out for reasons, they didn’t react well.” You didn’t want to give too much away. “I was sure that they were going to burn all of my things. But, I went back to see just in case. I was mostly correct; except they didn’t touch my closet. It was hiding in the back behind some clothes.” You remembered crying when you found it, holding it close for comfort. It had been one of the few things that you took from the house back to your apartment in Nice.

“I also wanted to bring it back, where it belongs.”

Charles glanced at you and then the helmet between Arthur’s fingers. “But, he gave it to you. You need to keep it.”

You shook your head. “Jules told me to keep it safe and to hold onto it for safe keeping. I always thought that I’d be able to give it back to him one day. I guess this is the closest thing I can do.”

Arthur gave the helmet back to his brother and walked over to you. You looked into his big blue eyes, filled with tears. Unable to hold back, he tucked his face into your neck, holding you tight. You squeezed your eyes closed, tears falling down your cheeks.

You knew that Arthur always felt bad about not being as close to his godfather, like Charles and Lorenzo had been. He had been 15 when Jules died, and you always wished that the family had had more time with him. Pressure was added on your other side. Looking over slightly, your eyes caught sight of Charles’s brown hair. You managed to put your other arm around him. You held the two brothers close, your heart melting.

Is this what a family is supposed to feel like?

Max’s family was a different dynamic. Yes, they enjoyed hugs and being close, but it wasn’t like this where you could hold each other for hours. Well, maybe Max would let you, he was so overdue for a giant group hug.

Arthur couldn’t get over the fact that you were so close. He hoped that you didn’t hear his heart racing. He’s waited this long; he can wait a little longer. His tears had dried up, but he never wanted to let you go. Your heart was too big and too fragile for anyone else to have it. But here you were, opening it up to his family. He couldn’t have asked for someone better to hold your place in his heart. He could only dream that you held him close to your heart, as he did with you to his.

You would never tell him, but you did.

Charles on the other hand could not stop the tears. He wondered how long you had waited. Shy, quiet you. Before this, he had seen you a couple of times before with Max at the beginning of the break. He’d often run into the two of you shopping or getting groceries. You’d always find a way to give a small wave, before turning to do something else while Max talked to him. He wondered what was so special about you. Max, in all his life, had never looked at something as he looked at you. It was different than the way he looked at Kelly. Heck, he even looked a Penelope differently. Charles had rolled his eyes a few more times than he’d like to admit whenever Arthur would bring you up in conversation. But now, as you tried to comfort him and his brother, he finally understood. You were the family that they were missing.

Pascale watched as the three of you broke your little hug. Smiles adorned your faces as you held the other close. She wished Lorenzo would have been here to meet you. She had a feeling that he and Charlotte would like you, as her other two sons did.

Their little celebration started moments after, the helmet at the center. Your smile never left your face for the rest of the night. You were sad that they didn’t let you sneak in one sip of the bottled drink.

“It’s probably not even good,” you told them as you took a sip of your drink.

“Y/n it is good. We French know what good alcohol is,” he took a sip. You raised an eyebrow and smirked as you saw Charles gawk at him.

“Arthur, you are not French,” you watched as Charles put an arm around Arthur’s neck. You were quick to grab his drink so it wouldn’t stain the carpet. “Yeah Charles, drag his ass!”

Arthur held out a hand, dramatically going down. “My best friend betraying me for my brother. Could this day get any worse?”

“Charles, you should have heard all the times he said that he was French when we would do videos.” You smirked evilly at the two.

“Y/n! You weren’t supposed to tell him!”

“Arthur, how many times to I have to tell you? WE ARE NOT FRENCH, WE ARE MONAGUESQE!!

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

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Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.

He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.

More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.

Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.

He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.

"Harrington?"

The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"

"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.

Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.

Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."

"Just needed some air. Clear my head."

"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.

"One or two,"

"Dozen?"

Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"

Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."

"Yeah, big news."

"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.

Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.

He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"

The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).

Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.

With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.

---

Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?

That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.

The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.

Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.

It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.

The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.

A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.

Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.

---

The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.

When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.

"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.

Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.

"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"

Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.

"It was you? Leaving the--?"

Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"

"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."

"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.

"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."

Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."

Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.

"Didn't want me to think what?"

"That you weren't loved, Stevie."

The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.

"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.

"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"

"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.

Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."

The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"You wanna hangout some time?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #one shot #secret admirer #fluff #a tiny bit of angst #friends to lovers #feelings realization #feelings confession #pining eddie munson #oblivious steve harrington #mutual crushes #high school au #eddie is in love with steve

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binniebakery · 3 months

Text

(What's The) Hot Topic?

HotTopicWorker!Gyu x Fem!Reader, Strangers to Lovers(?), Suggestive! ♡ Summary: In search for a birthday gift for your friend, you stop by your local Hot Topic where you stick out like a sore thumb. A certain employee sees a pretty girl in need of his assistance, so who is Beomgyu to say no? (In which emo gyu takes a liking to the girl dressed in delicate ribbons and bows.) ♡ Warnings: Things move a little fast here, makeout with a stranger, cursing, reader gets called fem nicknames, etcccc not proofread! ♡ A/N: ty for the request! I got so motivated to write this I hopped on my pc so quick LMAO (this user loves oreo beomgyu with a passion n will do anything to write for him) so more coquette x txt !!!! lmk if u guys want me to do other members too! Hope u enjoy~

The mall was quieter than usual today. A perfect time for you to show up in your cute heeled boots and winter coat, perfectly lined with white fur and ribbons. The sound of your shoes clicking mixing in with the atmosphere of the mall. You found your way to the store you were looking for. As you stood in front you stared at your phone with furrowed eyebrows. How were you supposed to find Yeonjun’s gift again? You walked in with eyes glued to your text messages. Nirvana, yes. You wanted a Nirvana shirt for your good friend Yeonjun’s birthday. Easy right? Or maybe he wouldn’t like that? It was hard to figure out what he had and what he didn’t have in his collection. You bit your lip as you looked at the t-shirt section in the back of the dark store. You could practically feel the stare of another shopper which made your uneasiness grow. Though you couldn’t blame them, you sort of stood out like a sore thumb. Pretty pearled headband with light ribbons tied, and a purse in the same color to match. Your whole outfit screamed sweet pastels and spring while you stood next to the bloody horror movie merchandise. You sighed in relief as you saw the previously mentioned customer get helped by an employee. Yet to your luck, you were left standing waiting like a lost deer. Maybe you should’ve just ordered something online– “Hey there, has anyone helped you yet?”

You turn to see a taller figure standing by you, his black long hair chopped into a wolf cut with platinum blonde highlights to further highlight his pale skin. He was a guy your age for sure, and he had quite an eccentric appearance. Which made him even more attractive. “Hi! Um yes sorry, I do need help with something if you don’t mind? I’m looking for a gift for a friend. I don’t really have the same style so..” you trailed off, noticing how his eyes look over your figure, a tinge of pink blooming on his ears. “Sure thing. Just tell me what kind of stuff your friend likes and I can help you, pretty girl. Name’s Beomgyu.” he grinned. You felt your heart nearly stop as you choked out an “Ah! I’m y/n.. th- thanks..” and proceeded to show him Yeonjun’s list of favorite artists and demands for his birthday. “Hm. I think I have the perfect thing for him. Follow me please.” you watch him swiftly turn around as he walks deeper into the back of the store… into the employees-only room? You stood there dumbfounded, were you supposed to go in there too? Was this a normal thing for Hot Topic? You hardly came to the store but you swear the employees-only room should be for.. Well, employees only. “Don’t worry doll, you can come back here.” He chuckles as he watches your big eyes scan around nervously. You nod and walk in with him, the door closing behind you. The room was dim, a single light bulb being the only source of light for the two of you. It wasn't too large of a room, with an employee bathroom towards the end of it, a desk with a computer sitting in the corner, and tons of shelves filled with extra merchandise waiting to be set up. Beomgyu hummed as he dug through the boxes with various artists’ names labeled on them. The room was quiet and the atmosphere felt thick. You played with the ribbons on your soft coat as you waited for him to find what he was looking for. “I have a question for you. You ever visit this store?” Beomgyu asked as he dug further, you tilted your head at the question. Was he trying to say something..? “Yes.. but I’m not really a common customer..” You nervously laugh and Beomgyu stands up with a set of items in his hands. “Mhm, I figured. No offense, but you really stick out in here. That dumbass was staring at you like you were a zoo animal.” He laughed. “Though I mean that with no offense- I wouldn’t blame him. You’re a pretty girl y’know?” He smiled as he handed you the merch in his hands. Your face flushed at the compliment. “Ah, thank you. You’re really kind.” You smile. Neither of you move. You’re looking at the floor, you really want to say something more. Ask him for his number, tell him he’s attractive as hell, or that you want to just stay in here a little longer. Alone with him. Suddenly, you feel a hand stroke a strand of your hair. You look up to see Beomgyu admiring your soft locks with gentle eyes. “Such a pretty girl.. You have a boyfriend?” He tilts his head, lips forming a smirk with tongue in cheek. You could almost pass out. Your eyes were locked on Beomgyu’s expression, his face scanning yours as he waited for your response. You could tell he was taking his time analyzing your features. You felt yourself shudder under his intense stare, you shook your head. “No actually.. I don’t..” Beomgyu’s smile widened. “Really? An angel like you? Surely I’m not your type though, someone like me with a angel like you?” “Well..” You looked away, staring at Yeonjun’s present that was still in your hands. He did have a point. You were just a sweet little thing, dressed in bows and frills, while Beomgyu wore ripped jeans and dark shirts with multiple band pins, all while sporting multiple bandaids from his skating endeavors. “I could say the same about you…Beomgyu.” His name sounded like candy coming from your glossy pink lips. He just had to hear you say it more. Beomgyu decides he’s had enough and closes the gap between you, pulling you in for a kiss.

His lips are warm and soft, leaving you craving for more. His hands snake their way around your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. You find yourself tilting your head, deepening the kiss and he groans at the feeling of you pressing yourself against him. “Wanna hear you say my name..” he mumbles against your lips and your mind is growing fuzzy. “B- Beomgyu..” you whisper and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth the second you say his name. You spend minutes like this, his hands roaming your warm and soft coat, your fingers tracing the choker on his neck. Yeonjun’s gifts long forgotten on the ground. When you both finally separate for air, Beomgyu presses his forehead against yours, admiring the way your eyes have darkened, pretty lashes glistening in the dim room’s light. “I get off in an hour babydoll. You want my number?” You find yourself nodding profusely and he smirks. “I’ll see you when I get off then.” “Promise?” You tilt your head cutely, voice soft and sweet like cotton candy, and he feels himself drawn more to you by the second. You separate from each other's arms and he helps you pick up your items. After all, you still had to head to check out. “I prom-” The door swings open as Beomgyu’s coworker walks in. “Beomgyu! What are you doing? There’s like two customers out there and- oh what-” The slightly taller male who’s nametag read Soobin tilts his head in confusion. His brows knit together as he sees your slightly disheveled hair and Beomgyu’s face smeared in your pink lipgloss. “Oh my- get the fuck out of here! Jesus man, it makes sense for Taehyun to pull something like this but you?” he groans as Beomgyu’s shit-eating grin moves him to the side, walking out with your wrist in his hand, guiding you to the counter to pay.

#binniebakeryorders #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt fluff #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff #txt x reader #txt x y/n #beomgyu x y/n #BakeryTreat♡

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amyscottartist · 2 years

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#handmadeuk #giftboxes #pillow boxes #birthday gift #custom #handmadewithlove #treatyourself #treat box #order online #jewlelry #chocolate #chocolate boxes #feelgood #sweet treats

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a-sapphic-love · 5 months

Text

🎧- e.w mindbreak

summary: in which ellie gifts reader an odd pair of headphones, and weird things start to happen.

warnings: MDNI!!!!, dom!ellie, sub!reader, manipulation, smuttt, mindbreak, hypno, bdsm, smoking blunts/ weed use, freeuse, exhibitionism, probably more that i forgot to list

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩.✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

my first ellie fic- enjoy! (tips and such are appreciated)

you're at work one day, humming at your desk as you finish up a task when your coworker ellie comes up to you.

you both don't talk much, but she's always been nice to you. its kind of weird, since she's cold to your other coworkers, but you don't think too much of it.

"hey, i got these headphones and customized them for my friend, but it turns out she doesn't really use them. your old pair broke, right? so i guess you could have these." she says, smiling. such a sweet gesture!

"oh, thank you! ive been wanting a new pair!" you say, returning the warm smile, and ellie hands you a box with some black headphones on them.

you're surprised when you open the box to find pink headphones, and they seem to be a little modified. ellie is long gone so you can't really ask, but you assume it's because the headphones were supposed to be for a friend of hers.

you put the headphones on, and they fit comfortably, so you decide to just start using them. you play some music, but are confused to realize something's wrong. there's an odd frequency playing.

so you just play a different song, except you keep hearing that same frequency. you stop playing the music to see, and think everything's normal again until you listen close and the frequency is still there.

you were raised by a family that was against waste, so you decide to just suck it up and use the headphones anyway. plus, after wearing them for a few days, you find every time ellie sees you with the headphones on, she just looks so excited. probably just really happy to see you using her gift.

however, odd things begin to happen. suddenly, every time you see ellie your panties get all sticky and you just want to follow her around like a lost puppy.

plus, you're getting worse and worse at your job. you start to forget things, or just simply ignore them. because now, all you spend your time at work doing is looking for ellie. she seems to already know you're getting dumber, and she helps with all the 'big girl things' you just can't do anymore.

"hi, angel, you need help right?" she coos every time you come find her to do something for you. "im so proud of you for coming to get me, i know you can't do it by yourself. it's okay..." and her gentle praise only makes your cunt leak more.

your boss sees how you don't really work anymore and gets angrier, much to ellie's advantage. one day, she takes you into the washroom and shows you a video.

one big, sparkly pink spiral is plastered on her phone screen, and she connects your headphones so you can hear the audio -

"you feel so good with your little pussy all wet, all you want are some orgasms right? you don't think any more, you only get dumber and dumber..." and the video trails off.

it feels like hours that you stand there staring at the screen, hypnotized. you feel her hands on your body, touching your nipples and squeezing your boobs. "you want an orgasm right? wanna cum so bad, but you can't do it yourself? come with me, ellie will help." she coos, and your horny broken mind only wants to listen.

ellie takes you to her house, something she's been wanting to do for a long time, "just had to make sure you were dumb enough," she thinks to herself.

she brings you into her room where there's a little cage all perfect for you, with your new favourite color: pink. she ties you up, all pretty, with an even prettier pink ball gag. you squirm a little, confused. you're not completely dumb yet, and ellie's annoyed by that fact.

luckily, there's a good solution. "it's okay princess, ellie will break that mind of yours, alright?" she says, teasingly. now that she has you all for herself, she doesn't need to keep up the nice act.

ellie leaves you to struggle briefly, before coming back with a small egg-shaped vibrator. she tapes it right on top of your clothed clit, before continuing to play hypno files.

you squirm, even though it hurts with all the tight ropes, at the feeling of the vibe. not only have you gotten soo much dumber, you're also needier. without really meaning to, you mumble a series of broken pleas through the gag. you don't care that ellie hypnotized you and is actively trying to break you. all you want is to cum.

ellie smiles when she notices you moving your hips, desperate for more friction. she presses down on the vibe before sliding her hands up your shirt to rub your nipples. the look in your big, teary eyes makes her clit throb.

"come on, know you wanna cum your brains out, so just do it. cum for me angel," she teases, and it sends you over the edge fast. finally, you break, her dumb little nympho toy.

she unties you quickly and removes the gag before taking all your clothes off. "good girls don't wear clothes if they don't need to... right, baby?"

"yes ellie!" you respond, nearly drooling from how good your last orgasm was- and how badly you want another one. ellie immediately takes her pants off when she hears how you say her name. she wants to fuck you soo bad already

shit, and the look in your eyes- like not a single thought passes through your head, ever. that's how she knows you're broken.

ellie lights a blunt fast, and you find yourself practically humping the floor at how hot she is when she smokes. the air in her room seems to get heavier, and it's greenish-yellow tinted. long puffs, and she takes a few hits before turning to you. "always wanted to do this, since the day i first saw that stupidly cute little face," she whispers, chuckling.

she takes a hit, and this time she blows it in your face. you cough, disoriented by the sudden sensation but you love every second of it. and you're happy to be obedient because maybe that means another orgasm- fuck, you just want to cum again.

lucky for you, ellie does too. she picks you up and throws you on her bed, kissing your pretty lips until you can't feel them. she stops momentarily, opening her drawer and getting her strap, a vibrator, and something else you can't see.

you realise what it is when you feel your nipple get pinched harshly, ellie put nipple clamps on you. you whine a little, but come to be... okay with the sensation. you just want to please ellie, after all.

and anyway, being so good for her pays off. you know for sure when she's 8 inches deep inside of you, stuffing your face inside a pillow with one hand and rubbing your clit with the other.

"you gonna make a mess, hm? you gonna make a mess for ellie?" she says, leaning over to kiss your swollen lips. "mhm, yesyesyesyes, 'm gonna make a mess for ellie, fu-u-uckkk, els," you whimper, and you know it's exactly what she wants to hear.

the base of the strap absolutely abuses ellie's clit, and it's not long before her movements become frantic and she gets even meaner. "yeah, you gonna cum your brains out again like a little whore? yeah?" she groans, slapping your ass harshly.

"say it, say you're a stupid whore for ellie," she says, when she doesn't hear a response. she's right about to cum, she just needs to hear you admit it.

"i-im a stupid whore for ellie!" you whine, having your third- or was it your fourth? orgasm since ellie broke you. it didn't matter how many you had, you just wanted more.

ellie nearly felt the same way. having her own little toy, it was too good just thinking about the possibilities.

after that day, ellie tried out all the things she'd been wanting to do. she brought you to work with her, except now you went so you could be the cum dumpster of the office, going under tables to eat your former coworkers out until they came all over your face.

she took you to the park, so she could humiliate you by making you hump random things. she took you to the library, so she could make you ask the female staff about books while controlling the vibrator in your panties,

even at home, ellie humiliated you by making you clean or do gardening outside with a skirt and no panties. anyone sensible would have been way to embarrassed to keep doing these things.

except you didn't really have a problem with your new life, because you always got orgasms, and that was all your dumb, broken slutty brain ever wanted.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩.✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this account supports palestine 🇵🇸❤️

do not buy any tlou games! neil druckmann, the creator, is a zionist who's funding a genocide! do not give him your money!

https://www.tumblr.com/sulfurcosmos/732456971539775488/how-you-can-help-palestine

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #gxg smut #lesbian #tlou ellie #ellie williams tlou #bd/sm kink #mindbreak #hypnoslut #hypnok1nk #hypnosub #free free palestine #free palestine #i stand with palestine #free gaza

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allfearstofallto · 4 months

Text

Nice

Yandere childe x reader

1.7k

Synopsis: He'll buy you absolutely anything your heart desires, but he longs for you to describe things as more than just "nice"

TW: Yandere, abusive themes, bribery, NSFW themes, toxic relationship, Dub-Con

AN: I haven't written in FOREVER so forgive me if it's not awesome or if it feels incomplete. My last account got shadow banned :(, doesn't help that I was already pretty depressed before that. No time for sob stories here, it's been two years since I've written anything and I miss writing, thanks for joining me!

Gems that dazzled and gleamed stars in the night sky, silver that was carved painstakingly from the mines in Liyue, an appearance that was beautiful, but still kept up with the most current fashion trends. He had truly outdone himself with this one, this has to be the one that would take your breath away. The one that would make you leap into his arms and pepper his face with kisses from your sweet lips that he rarely got the chance to taste.

When it came to gifts for you, there was no price tag. Childe would spend every mora he had if it meant he could even get a smile out of you and spend he often did. Money meant nothing to him, being a Fatui harbinger, his paychecks were larger than he knew what to do with. After sending money back home to his family, he still had so much left and nothing that he longed for other than your affection. So, why not spend it on something else he cared about?

Your eyes ghosted over the ring he was showing you, encased in a black velvet box with red satin holding it up. It wasn’t an engagement ring, he’d assured you of that multiple times after you were taken aback by him holding it up to you. He knew you weren’t ready for that just yet, and he was willing to respect your wishes, but he still wanted to give you something to wear on that pretty little finger to show that you were his while you waited for the real deal. Your engagement ring would be much, much larger than the one he was gifting you now and it would incorporate details from both of your home countries.

The expression on your face was unreadable. It wasn’t quite a grimace, but it wasn’t a smile either. It was the usual face you made when you were given something. An equal mixture of discomfort and unease. “It’s…nice.” you mumbled quietly as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

There was that word again. Nice. It made him sick to his stomach every time he heard it fall from your pretty lips. But that was always what you said about his gifts, as if you couldn’t think of another word to describe how you felt about them. Rare spices imported from Sumeru? Nice. A custom hanfu made from only the finest silk to wear to the lantern rite? Nice. Wine aged for almost a decade and shipped straight from Mondstadt? Very nice.

You spoke that one word, but even then it felt like you were straining yourself to say that much. On multiple occasions, your displeasure with receiving such expressive gifts was expressed, but he told you that that didn’t matter. Mora was just an object to him, something that held no value, and yet you still held each gift as if they would collapse under your touch.

“You can tell me if you don’t like it,”

“No!” you quickly retorted back, holding your hand up to examine the ring once more, “Its…” you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying the word, knowing that he would only be upset with your lack of what he considered to be a proper answer, “I like it.”

With a sigh and a dramatic slump of his shoulders, he reached up and cupped your face. His hand felt like solid ice against your cheek. Childe often claimed that that was another thing he loved about you so much. How warm your body was in comparison to himself. He told you that when he someday took you to Snezhnaya to meet his family, you would be his personal heater, that he wouldn’t let you go for even a second during the duration of your stay there.

“You don’t even wear the earrings I got you anymore,” Childe’s long fingers traced from your cheek to the lobe of your ear, grazing the empty hole where jewelry would go.

“You know I can’t wear those at work,”

“Then quit your job,” He spoke those words so quickly, with no hesitation, a part of you was convinced you imagined it. But you working was a constant conflict of interest between the two of you, something you’d even argued about before.

The situation grew heated that day. Both of you, yelling back and forth about what you thought was right. You remembered seeing his eyes glow at the same time as his vision that rested on his hip, making your stomach drop. Childe would never hurt you, would he? But even you didn’t know the answer to that, you could never be too sure about what was going on in the mind of a harbinger. So you backed down slightly, telling him that it was something you would consider, and that answer sufficed with him for the time being.

“Childe-”

“Ajax,” he cut you off. He hated when you used his codename, claiming that as his future wife, you alone should be allowed to call him by his given name.

“Ajax," you exhaled harshly after speaking his name, "I really would like to work and be independent,”

For just the briefest of moments, his eyes went dull, his smile fell, his facade faltered and he was his true self. It only lasted for less than a second, the average person might not have even seen it, but you’d spent so much time with him. You knew his tells. You knew that even though he was smiling again, it was completely fake. He was angry, even if the gleam in his eyes didn't show it.

A cold kiss was pressed against your cheek, just a peck to get his point across. When he pulled away, still making eye contact, he was still so close that you could feel his shallow breath on your skin. He squatted down slightly to meet your eyes and whispered against your lips, “I don’t plan to let my wife work. Why don’t you quit now, have a little practice before we’re wed?”

He said that as a suggestion, but you knew it wasn’t one. With Childe there were only orders and threats, nothing in between. You had no choice on whether or not you’d get to work, on whether or not you got to live alone, on whether or not you married him. In his eyes, you were already his, and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

A lump was caught in your throat as you tried to figure out what to say. Could you even tell him that the prospect of marrying him was something that seldom crossed your mind? Something that even when you did think about, it brought a twinge of fear into your heart. That on multiple occasions, you considered leaving him, but your unease around him was what was making your stay.

“I…” you finally met his gaze as you tried to force words out of your tense body. His eyes felt so cold and the hand that he had managed to snake its way down onto your shoulder was gripping your flesh tightly. It was a warning that what you said next would matter, “I should just-”

“You should quit,” he spoke the last part of the sentence for you, not caring about what you truly wanted to say.

Eyes turned downcast, you gave a slow nod. There wasn’t much of a choice with him anymore, he was hellbent on that being your answer. He had given you an order, if you didn’t react the way he wanted you to, you would regret it.

The grip that was on your shoulder loosened, exhibiting that you had pleased him and another kiss was placed on your cheek as a reward. This time his lips touched just below your eyes, where tears were threatening to fall, “That’s my girl,” another peck right against your lips, “How about I buy you something special, huh? For being so good.”

You swallow slowly, trying to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him, clenching and unclenching your fist as a way to self soothe. Your voice was shaky as you delivered your stiff answer, “Sure. That sounds lovely.”

“How about a new pair of earrings,” he followed this up by lightly biting the side of your ear, “or maybe a new necklace,” you felt his warm tongue slide down from your ear to your collarbone, making all the hairs on your body stand up, “Or maybe even a new dress,” he spoke into your neck, his hand reaching down and trying to slide the dress you were wearing up your thigh, exposing your your bare skin to the air.

You jolted your body backwards, your hands placed against his chest in an attempt to keep the distance between the two of you. He was moving so fast. Too fast. Even though it had been a while since you and him had last been intimate, for him to try it again so suddenly was worrisome.

You didn’t dare look at his face. There was no doubt about it that he was upset at your response to his touch, he never liked when you rejected him. The hand that was placed against him, was taken into his. The way he held you was gentle, but you could still feel force behind his movement. The thumb of his hand traced the back of your palm as he held you, before lifting it up and placing a kiss against it. Right on your finger, right on the very expensive ring he’d just bought you, almost as a way to draw your attention to it once more.

“What’s gotten into you? Hm?” he had an eyebrow cocked and a grin on his face, “Pushing me away like that after I got you something so precious? You’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“I just don’t think I’m in the mood for this right now,” you mumbled, switching between looking at your dress you were fiddling with and his borderline unblinking eyes.

Silence fell over the two of you, to the point where you could hear your own heart beat, the sound of blood pumping in your ears, the sound of his breaths that were slightly heavier than normal. Childe was rarely quiet. It was hard to get him to keep his mouth shut. In a way his anger was scaled based on how loud he was, the quieter, the worse.

His large hand came into your sight again, making you flinch about what was coming ahead, but rather than being struck, he used his thumb to trace your lips, “Figure something out.”

#yandere genshin #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #childe #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #mdni

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marvelfanfics1 · 2 months

Note

Hi! Could you do a Rafe x Little!Reader where it is the readers first time being little around Rafe and the reader is very shy and emotional and it’s just all cute and fluffy please?

I totally get it if you can’t!

Btw, I absolutely loved your Moody Princess one shot, thank you so much for writing it!

Baby's Safe Space

Pairing: daddy!rafe x pogue!little!reader

Warnings: age regression, small mentions of past abuse, soft!rafe, fluff

A/n: Thank you lovely! I hope I made the request justice and that you like how it came out 🫣🫶🏻

⭒𖥸⭒

It took Rafe some time to understand the aspects of regressing but after you explained it to him he started to do more research on his own, and maybe buying some stuff online he thought you would like, to show his support.

You told Rafe that regressing is just how you cope with past trauma you endured during your childhood.

He understood how important it is for your little self to feel safe and protected, knowing it's not for everyone to see and felt honored that you finally got the courage to talk about it with him. That you feel safe enough in his presence to show your most vulnerable side.

Growing up at the cut with abusive parents took quite a tool on you and as you found out about the term age regression it was clear to you it's what you needed to cope or what you deserved to have.

Rafe was beyond anxious that he somehow mess things up by saying or doing the wrong thing that it results in you being little by yourself again.

He felt bad knowing you probably were only little when he would have busy work days or a business trip.

It was a little into the afternoon and you just got out of the bathroom after doing your skincare and Rafe instantly noticed the pastel colored jammies that had little bunnies printed all over them.

He smiled at you softly, internally excited as hell to finally see that side of you and even curious as to how different your behavior is now in this state.

He noticed at the way you fiddled with the hem of your shirt that you're probably even more nervous than him right now, which is totally understandable.

It was already a hard challenge for you to even tell him about it.

Putting his phone aside he waved you over to him.

"Come here, baby. Promise I won't bite ya." He smirked and to see you smile a little was already a triumph to him.

Shyly you shuffled over to the bed, climbing your way up to snuggle into Rafe's side and grasping his shirt in one of your hands.

He wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head when suddenly he remembered what he had hidden under the bed. "Ah- wait a second..."

He reached beside under the bed to pull out a white box with a rather big red ribbon on top of it. You sat up straight when he placed it between you both. "I- uh...thought you might like it and if not that's totally fine."

You haven't even opened it yet but Rafe certainly knew you cherish absolutely anything he gifted you.

He was just afraid he would go too far with what he bought you but the sparkle in your eyes already eased his nerves a little.

You slowly took of the lid and gasped. There was a lamb stuffie, color books with crayons, and some obviously custom made pacis in your favorite colors you had been dreaming of getting for yourself for a while now.

You instantly teared up, scaring Rafe beyond belief. "Hey, hey...what's wrong kid?" He asked reaching out to cup your face in his large palms, his thumb swiping away the tears that slipped before asking. "Was it too much at once?"

You quickly shook your head which was a little hard with him holding your face. You placed your hands over his, smiling at him. "Dey are happy tears."

"Really? You don't have to say that just to-" you silenced him by leaning forward to peck his lips.

"fank you, Rafey..." You whispered and he pressed his forehead against yours.

"Not for that, baby. I'd do anything to make you happy."

After your sweet moment you only pulled out the stuffie and a paci, placing the box on the ground beside the bed and snuggled back into Rafe's side. You popped in your paci and had the lamb held snugly under your chin while he turned on the TV and looked through Netflix for a movie that suited your headspace, yet he had some difficulty.

"Can you tell me how old you're feeling right now?" He asked and you held up three fingers. After a moment of looking through the kids section he stopped when you squealed quietly and pointed your finger at the screen at seeing your favorite cartoon making Rafe chuckle slightly. "Alright, guess it's gonna be this one."

He put the cartoon on play, an arm wrapping around you to keep you close and kissing your head.

You sighed contently, mumbling sleepily from behind your paci. "Lub you Rafey..."

"I love you more, baby."

⭒𖥸⭒

Taglist

for everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

Crossed out are the ones I somehow can't tag!

#little!reader #little reader #cg!rafe cameron #cg!rafe #daddy!rafe cameron x little!reader #daddy!rafe x little!reader #daddy!rafe cameron #daddy!rafe #daddy rafe x little reader #daddy rafe cameron #daddy rafe cameron x little reader #daddy rafe

378 notes · View notes

mistydeyes · 1 year

Text

opposite occupations

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: all the 141 boys have different plans while on leave, each having their own idea of how to spend the time. but when they run into a lovely civilian, they realize that all the long hours, deployments, and trainings worth it.

pairing: 141 x civvie!fem!Reader

warnings: swearing, all fluff :)

a/n: I love me a good little meet cute

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

price - florist

Everyone knew that the minute Price went home, he would be making the trek to his favorite cigar shop. It had been one he frequented for years, the familiar sign welcoming him home. Most shops on the street stayed the same. He liked the constancy, the familiarity.

As he rounded the street corner, he noticed a new shop had filled the unoccupied next door. The pale pink awning and rose-tinted glass were a new sight to see. "Sentiments of Carnations" he read as he walked past. He could see through the window that the shop had not yet been opened, noting the smell of fresh paint and empty displays. He wondered what grandma had put their retirement money into this florist shop.

He continued, opening the cigar shops store and smelling the musk of smoke and tobacco. "Ah John, I have your regulars set aside," the old shop owner said with a smile. "Back again for long?" he asked upon his return with a dark oak box. "Just waiting for another phone call from his majesty," he joked and slid over the usual bank notes. "I'll be seeing you," Price said as he opened the door and exited with the familiar chime of the bell.

As he embraced the warmth of the summer England weather, he pulled out one of his fresh purchases, excellently wrapped and balanced. He flipped open his lighter from his pocket and sat down to have his first smoke at home. He closed his eyes and savored the notes of espresso and hickory. As he sat in his small nirvana, he heard the florist's doors open.

He turned as he saw you, a flower behind your ear and a pink apron that perfectly matched the outside of the shop. You were not the grandma he had expected and instead were beautiful, the sun catching your lovely features. You had placed an antique table outside, along with a bucket of a colorful array of flowers adorned with a handwritten tag. You hung a small sign on the table that read, "Take one for a friend, family member, or loved one." You smiled at yourself, proud of the little display. You turned your head and noticed the mature man enjoying his smoke only a meter away from you. You picked out a scarlet carnation and walked over to the man, handing it to him.

"Here, you go," you said as his calloused fingers held the flower delicately. "A flower to brighten someone's day," you said with a smile. "Thank you, although I am not a man for flowers," he replied and extinguished his cigar. "Well, flowers can be for a variety of reasons, a friendly gesture, a gift for someone you fancy, or even something to brighten up your flat."

You ended with a sweet smile and he could feel himself melt on the spot. Something about the floral aroma emanating from the flower behind your ear along with your soft voice and pleasantries added to his current state of nirvana. You were so radiant in this light and he appreciated the kind gesture, especially upon his return home.

"No one to give a romantic gesture to, but thank you," he replied. "Well if that ever changes, my shop opens later this week! The shop's number is on the tag" you said before giving him a small wave and wink. He could hear the shop's door close as you began to set up your display and paint a mural on one of the walls. As he twisted the carnation in his hand, he knew he would be adding your shop to his routine becoming your most frequent customer.

soap - tattoo artist

Soap looked at his phone, making sure he was in the right place. His favorite tattoo shop near his Scottish home had closed and he was taking a recommendation from Ghost.

"She's got an attitude but her work is amazing," Ghost had said before Soap's deployment. He couldn't deny the craftsmanship of her work on Ghost's arm. He marveled at the attention to detail as Ghost proudly shoved off his ornate sleeve.

Soap had an appointment for today, previously approving of the artist's rendition of his vision. A black-and-white thistle, a charm his mother had said. It was commonly known to keep its owner away from danger and bad acquaintances. Something Soap needed on the battlefield.

He pushed the maroon door open, admiring the many gold frames with what he assumed were some of the artists' work. He let out a light chuckle as he noticed a framed sketch of Ghost's sleeve. He was just about to snap a picture when a voice called out, "Hey Mohawk, this isn't a museum."

He turned around to see a woman, a gorgeous one at that. You were wearing a tank top that showed off a collage of various tattoos in different styles. You had been taking a break and relaxed, sitting behind a desk, feet propped up.

"Actually, lass, I'm here with an appointment," he said, walking over to you. "Name's John MacTavish." he finished with a cheeky smile.

"Ah MacTavish, one of Riley's military boys I'm guessing. How's that masterpiece of mine doing?" you joked, Soap didn't know what to say. Were you and Ghost a thing?

You laughed at his pause, "My tattoo, Mohawk. There's no way I'd be shagging his Halloween-looking-arse." Soap appreciated the heads up about your attitude and knew this was gonna be a fun session.

"Looks gorgeous, Sweetheart. Just like yourself," he poked back and you let out a loud laugh, almost doubling over. "Don't flatter yourself, you can go make yourself comfortable in my station over there. Looks like you're only getting a bicep tat, so I better not see your shirtless arse back there."

Soap made his way to where you motioned, sitting down in the black velvet chair. You came in a few minutes later with your sketch and supplies. You closed the scarlet curtains behind you before walking over to prep his arm.

As you sat in relative silence, Soap asked, "So what do the tattoos mean, Lass?" You finished your prep work and were working on the correct tattoo placement. "Travels from around the world. I took it upon myself to get a tattoo in every new country."

With that, you offered him a mirror so he could approve of the sketch and placement. The tattoo rested on his right bicep and he made sure to look at it at every angle and made sure to flex for your enjoyment.

"Alright, muscle man, this should only take a few hours as long as you don't pass out on me," you said and began to tattoo your next masterpiece. During the next two hours, you made conversation about the tattoos meaning, his life in Scotland, and you even shared more intimate details about your travels.

The hours flew by like minutes to Soap as you let him know you were finished. He admired the detailed flower and you handed him some care instructions with some cream. "And your buddy paid for you ahead of time, so you're all set, Mohawk" you replied and Soap got off of the chair.

"See you around, my world-class woman," he joked as he exited the door. You slightly cringed, wondering if writing your number on the tube of aftercare cream was a good idea or not.

gaz - primary school teacher

Gaz looked at himself in his flat's mirror. He brushed a hand over his freshly cut hair and evened out his dress shirt. "Just a favor for a friend," he said to himself as he walked to catch the next tram. Two days ago, an old colleague during his days working with the metro police force had reached out to him. They called in a favor, "Kyle c'mon it's just a couple of primary students, all you need to do is give a little talk about stranger danger." Knowing he had nothing else better to do, Gaz agreed.

As he signaled the tram to stop, Gaz looked at the brown brick building reminding him of his younger days. Gaz walked in, checking in with the receptionist who directed him to the classroom where he'd be giving his talk. He was early, the school had not yet opened but he was asked to have the presentation at the beginning of class before the children's lessons. He admired the walls filled with the artwork of the students, silly attempts at drawing their families. He finally reached your classroom, noting the smiling sunflower on your opened door. He knocked softly and he saw you lift your head to greet him. If he had known you would be so beautiful, he would have not needed his friend's encouragement.

"Ah you must be Sgt. Garrick," you said, beginning to get up from your desk to greet him. You smoothed out your skirt and placed your glasses down. "It's just Kyle," he said and returned your friendly smile and warm handshake.

"Well Kyle, the children should be arriving in a few minutes. I'll get them settled and introduce you for your small talk today," you said with a grateful nod. You motioned for him to sit at your desk as you stood at your door to greet your excited second-year students. Gaz played on his phone and smiled as he heard you return the children's happy good mornings with a similar high-energy one. The students began to file in, placing their bags in their cubbies, and sitting with their friends. You heard small whispers from the children, wondering what you were doing at their teacher's desk. He let out a chuckle when he heard one boy whisper, "Is that Miss Y/N's husband? He's sitting in her chair."

Finally, with all the children in their seats, you walked to the front of the classroom and greeted your students warmly. "Good morning everyone, today we have a very special guest with us. This is our friend, Kyle, and he's here today to tell you all a little something before we start our lessons."

Kyle knew this was his cue, he rose from your desk and swapped places with you at the front of the room. "Hi everyone, today I'm going to teach you smart kids about something called 'Stranger Danger'." The children oohed in response as Kyle waved his hands in a fake menacing manner. You smiled as he was a natural. The children were attentive, writing down the information as he spoke and working together with their classmates to fill out the worksheet answers. Kyle ended his talk and asked if anyone had any questions. One child raised her hand and Kyle called on her. "Is Miss Y/N a stranger? I'm confused."

"I'm your teacher, Amelia. Teachers that you know aren't strangers," you responded and Kyle nodded in agreement. Another kid raised their hand and asked, "But you aren't Kyle's teacher, so you're a stranger to him."

Before either one of you could respond, his friend boasted, "It's because they're married, your Mum and Dad aren't strangers to each other." Both you and Kyle shared a look and he saw the soft blush rise to your face. "Ah we're just friends," he said and saved you the embarrassment.

Little did Kyle know, his email would chime that night with a thankful message from you along with your number at the bottom asking him to breakfast that weekend.

ghost - veterinarian

Unlike most people, Ghost loved the quiet ambiance of London's rainfall. The streets were empty and peaceful as people were cozying up in their homes with a blanket. Enjoying the evening air and cold, he walked with an umbrella in one hand and a warm cup in the other. His boots resounded on the cobblestone street as he sipped his Earl Grey tea. His chest was warm from the bold citrus and bergamot liquid. This was, in his opinion, an ideal leave well spent.

The rhythmic rain fell and his walking was interrupted by a soft mewing. Simon hurried down the street to find the source of the noise. In front of a grocer's, he noticed a small cardboard box being drenched by the unrelenting rain. He placed his cup down and gently lifted the box. Underneath was a small grey cat, cuddled into a ball to experience some semblance of warmth. Simon placed his umbrella to shield the box and lifted the tiny meowing animal into his hands.

As he cradled the cat to his chest, he heard a click of heeled boots behind him. He turned his now-drenched head to notice you walking up with a bright orange umbrella adorned with cat paws. "Excuse me, Sir, but is he yours?" you asked gesturing to the ball of grey that laid meowing in his arms. "Uh he's not, I found this little fella underneath this box here."

"Ah a Good Samaritan, I see. Well, I own the veterinarian shop down the way, I can take him off your hands if you'd like and make sure this little lad gets the care he needs," you said and offered a hand to hold the kitten. You noticed his slight hesitation and said, "If you'd like, I'll give you my card so you can take the little one home when he's all better."

"That would be nice," he smiled underneath his black face mask. Simon loved animals, never being permitted to have one as a child. As you held the kitten in your arm, you handed him your umbrella. He initially tried to refuse but you insisted saying, "You're soaked, I'll be alright." You ended with a small giggle which made Ghost warmer than his now cold cup of tea.

"The least I can do is walk you back to your shop," he replied a little too quickly. He instantly realized the surprising force he had said that with and followed up with, "You know, just so you and Earl Grey can make it there in this weather.

"Earl Grey, I like that. That's my favorite order, especially on days like this." Simon moved slightly behind you, holding the umbrella to shield the three of you on your walk. The air was filled with the familiar scent of rain and the notes of your floral perfume. "I'm Dr. L/N by the way, but most people just call me, Y/N," you said as you continued on your way. "I'm Simon, a pleasure to meet you doc."

Three weeks later Simon's house was filled with all the necessities for a new cat father. As he grabbed his coat, he pulled out a water-stained business card with the vet's office address and your number written on the back. He smiled to himself as he traced his fingers over the small handwriting saying, "To Earl Grey's owner, fancy a cup of tea with me?"

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seiwas · 6 months

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₊˚⊹。if you're ready (let me) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.3k

summary: you find the other thing to surprise gojo with on his birthday.

contains: f!reader, 18+ nsfw, reader is in lingerie, lead up to cunnilingulus (mentions pussy once)

a/n: a follow-up to the col lingerie fic, ‘take my time (i’ll spend it all on you)’, might be one of the more explicit ones i’ve written (which i don’t write often! so please be kind!); title inspired by ‘if you let me - alina baraz’; happy birthday to our boy ♡!!

collection masterlist: conversations on love +04a (extra). take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) <- you are here -> 04. these traces of love, they outline you

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

There are few things that come to mind when you think about what to get Gojo for his birthday:

A couple of his favorite sweets (predictable and too frequent—he just bought a box of them last week); something customized and redesigned, maybe his blindfold? (which, you backtrack to realize, you had already gifted him for his 21st birthday years ago); answered prayers—requests that he continuously and ‘jokingly’ hints at (which, you also realize—he’s only really whined about two).

Two requests, with one he’s already walked in on months ago, spoiling your what-would-have-been birthday gift.

So, this leaves you with the other one—

The only other request. A repeat of something you did by accident more than a decade ago.

Except, now, on purpose, you know that Gojo’s asking for something entirely different, far from innocent.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you bite the inside of your cheek. You hold it—

One.

The lace on the hem of your bra cups tickles your ribcage—it’s softer, but far more embellished than the pink one you’ve been (over)using. A gift from Gojo (“just a little something,” he said, handing it over to you one morning).

Two.

You rub your thighs together, white suspender straps gliding against your skin; the metal attachments on the lace garters pull taut, holding them in place.

Three.

Goosebumps litter your arms, little dots surfacing; it’s hard not to feel nervous when you know what awaits you—your heartbeat racing.

When you open your eyes as you exhale, breath shaky and vision a little hazy, you focus on Gojo—sitting on the floor, back slouched against his couch with an impossibly handsome smirk on his mouth. His lips are upturned, pink and curled at the corner, but bitten, just the lower bit.

You lock eyes, sleet white framing a darkening blue sky.

Something stirs in your belly when he shifts in his seat, the sleeves of his shirt tightening as he rests his arms wide open on luxurious gray cotton—an invite towards him.

An invite to—

“Maybe you should sit on my face again.”

The memory makes your face burn.

You slipped the first time it happened, tripping backwards over Tsumiki’s books stacked up on the floor. At 20, you were far from rusty, reflexes quick as you caught hold of the edge of the couch—the couch that Gojo also happened to be napping on.

There was an attempt: to balance yourself, only for your body to sink, gravity acting against your control. So, you landed right there, buttcheek covered by the fabric of your skirt, sitting straight on Gojo’s nose.

That incident had buried itself so deep inside your mind you were confident Gojo would never bring it up again unless you did.

But, of course he does, and when you least expect it too—by the counter of a gelato store, licking the dessert on hand while waiting for the cashier to punch the cost in.

And when he wets his lips now, a glimpse of pink swiping over his skin quickly, almost discreetly, you’re reminded of the same feeling you had back then—

—heated up, nervous; shy.

You move closer, his eyes straying lower, going over the pretty white number you have on; the one he got you.

And you wonder, if there’s vanity in the hunger he’s regarding you with, how what you’re wearing reminds you so much of him: white as the strands that fall into his eyes, playful but delicate at the same time.

The lace details on this set are more intricate, outlined with iridescent gray—an almost silver that shines blue when light hits; with sheer net as the base fabric, floral appliqués are carefully positioned on the bra and panty fronts, supported by ribbings that go down to the hem.

It’s a full-set, garters with the suspender belt and everything. Sexy but still soft—just what he likes.

And you’d be a lot less embarrassed walking up to him now if it weren’t for the single, most nerve-wracking anticipation: that you’ll be sitting on his face, for real, later. and maybe from now on.

He pats his lap, motioning for you to settle on it.

Your knees buckle under you when you reach him, holding onto his shoulders as you go down. And when you settle on his lap, straddling him, he reaches for your bra straps, pulling it off to the side.

The kisses he lands on each of your shoulders are soft, but his lips lay plump against your skin—a faint ‘smack’ sounding with each one. Your breath hitches when he goes lower, lightly sucking on the skin of your chest. It’s not enough to bruise, not yet, but a tightening in your stomach tells you you want it to.

He’s trying to get you to relax, you know—with how he’s gripping your hips, rubbing circles onto the skin underneath his fingertips.

When his mouth crawls up your neck, licking, you throw your head back—a sharp intake of breath as you release it heavily. Your fingers rake through his undercut, grasping onto fists of white. Then you shiver, gasping as trembles ripple through you when his lips glide past your ears.

“Toru,”

He pulls away, blinking at you, half-lidded; you blink back twice.

“You ready?” his eyes search for yours, your chin perched between his thumb and index finger—he tilts you to him.

The smile on his face is teasing, but gentle. And if you say no because you’re too nervous, you know he won’t force you.

(Even if the hardness in his sweatpants is pressing intently against you).

You try to shake off the nerves, nodding your head as you take in another breath, preparing to push yourself up by his shoulders.

It’s odd to think about how he used to feel what you do right now; how he used to be led, guided—reassured; how he’s doing what you do when you try to get him to calm down.

“We won’t do this if you don’t want to,” he bends his knees up, letting you lean on it as he cages you in.

But that’s the thing, you do want to—you’re just failing to see how this can be more for him than it is for you. That, and what if you get the position wrong? Can’t balance yourself properly? Lean into him too much and knock him out completely?

“I do, it’s just…” you sigh, running your palms over his chest. You fail to meet his eyes.

“If you’re shy now, I’ve seen it all before. And I always tell you, you taste de—”

You hit him before you catch how he’s watching you, chuckling—tender and knowing. He takes your hand, kissing each of your fingertips.

The fact that he’s being this patient, this considerate on what you want is a testament to his restraint; he has to know that you want this too, if the wet spot on his sweatpants is any indication from you.

So, you peer back at him, smile growing wide before landing a small peck to the tip of his nose.

He guides you when you stand, lips grazing your thighs as you let him pass through them. Then he leans back, neck supported by the edge of the couch as he tilts his head up. The moment your knees press into the cushion, dipping as you climb over him, he holds your ankles.

It tickles when he kisses his way down to the arches of your feet, but it’s a nice companion—a temporary relief—to the heat rising in your belly.

You hold on to the back of the couch, readjusting your knees as you find the right position to sit back down. And when you figure it out, angling yourself until you’re settled right over him—the heat of you is pulsing.

He looks dazed between your legs, staring straight into you—the see-through net hiding absolutely nothing. Pussy-whipped, as they say.

You giggle as you stare down at his face, anticipation rushing to your cheeks; it shakes him out of his reverie, prompting him to look at you instead. His breaths are warm against your thighs but cool against your core, and when he trails his lips higher and higher until he reaches it, landing a kiss on the fabric separating you, you think your knees might give out.

The sight of Gojo smirking while being sat on stirs something within you—the creeping realization of how much it turns you on.

And he can tell, grabbing hold of your butt and squeezing the flesh, kneading. The fabric separating you is pushed to the side, giving him a clearer view of everything; he sighs then moans, low.

But before he pushes you down, bringing you closer to his mouth, he smiles cheekily.

“Best birthday gift, baby.”

thank you notes: to @stellamancer bc the idea of col reader sitting on gojo's face came up in convo some time ago!! + @augustinewrites for supporting and enabling me ♡

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #satoru #shotorus.writes #col #gojo x you #gojo x yn #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x yn #jjk x y/n #rated

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saatbazaari · 4 months

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aureatchi · 6 months

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⛇₊˚ʚ₊˚✧ SANTA TELL ME IF HE REALLY CARES ft. dazai, chuuya, ranpo, fyodor, nikolai, sigma

the pm is hosting a christmas party for yokohama! everyone is encouraged to bring a gift for the people they love…so what do the bsd men get you?

info. fem!reader. sm fluff. profanities from chuuya ofc LOL, them trying to outdo each other for you. pm hq has a rooftop floor here. implied reader is in the ada. wc. 3.1k

You walked inside the lavish lobby of the port mafia headquarters to be greeted by DAZAI, who immediately embraced you in his arms.

“Bella! You made it!” he exclaimed, pulling you in. You could feel the heat of his body warming you up, relieving you of the chilly weather outside.

“Of course, Osamu,” you giggled. “Wouldn’t want to miss something super special as this.”

Still trapping you in his hug, he led you down the hallway, one hand moving to playfully pat your head. Security guards parted to let the two of you through, entering the room where everyone was.

“So many people!” you exclaimed when you entered the headquarters’ formal dining hall decorated in Christmas festivities. Everyone was either chatting about or gathering by a table to get sweet desserts or hot chocolate.

“Want some hot chocolate to warm up, angel?” Dazai asked, looking towards the line.

“No thanks,” you replied. “You’ve warmed my heart up already.”

He gave you a smug smile in response, but you didn’t miss the light pink that also flushed his cheeks.

“Come over here.”

You followed Dazai as he made his way to a different table filled with wrapped presents and bags alike.

Dazai took one of them—the gift bag in your favorite color and handed it to you.

“For the gift exchange,” he smiled. “Merry Christmas, bella. I hope you like it.”

Your eyes lit up in joy, grateful and excited to see what he had gotten you. “Thank you!”

The first thing you pulled out of the bag was a custom heart pendant in your preferred metal—Dazai knew whether you liked silver or gold better. When you unclasped the locket, you saw matching pictures of you and Dazai inside, both bundled up in the snow. It was a good memory to look back at.

“This is so cute, Osamu.” You closed the locket and let the brunette place the jewelry around your neck.

“It looks even better on you.”

The second thing inside the bag was a box. Pulling it out, you saw that it was a Lego flower set.

“As much as you love flowers, they don’t last forever. However, these do!” You grinned widely at the thought and matching gift—Dazai always easily recalled your favorite things.

“We can build them together, too,” he continued, and you gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I love them. You’re amazing at getting gifts.”

“I wouldn’t expect that at all.” Your attention was brought to the ginger-haired who had his arms crossed beside the both of you, a cheeky grin on his face. CHUUYA had a mug of eggnog in his hand, though you knew for sure he’d rather have a glass of red wine reserved for the evening party instead.

“Chuuya!”

“What’s up, doll?” he smiled, a different, sweeter tone entirely, as he strode towards you.

“What do you mean by that?” Dazai asked, referring to Chuuya’s earlier comment.

“Thought your taste in gifts would be shitty, just like you,” he chuckled as you greeted him with a hug.

“Hey, that’s a bit rude,” you whispered.

“Oh really?” Dazai responded with his own sarcastic laugh. “I’m not sure you could do any better.”

“You really underestimate me! Come with me, baby…we’re going to prove to the-thing-that-comes-with-the-discounted-bandages who really knows what to get a lady for Christmas!”

Dazai stood, jaw dropped, dramatically offended as Chuuya pulled you away.

You two walked to the other side of the room, where there were even more gifts under one of the many Christmas trees in the hall.

“Bastard,” Chuuya sulked under a scowl, picking up a box wrapped in crimson red, his statement color.

You chuckled in amusement. He riled up so easily, over something so trivial. “Don’t worry about him, Chuu. I already know I’m going to like what you got.”

“Ya better,” he replied, but cheered up from your words. “Are you able to hold it?”

He handed you the box, hovering his arms below for support in case you dropped it. Though it was a larger package, it was still a bit heavier than you expected.

“Yeah, I got it.” You then raised an eyebrow. What could be inside this gift?

You set it down on the nearest table, undoing the pretty bow of ribbon and wrapping paper that kept the mystery intact.

Inside, you were received with a record player.

“Oh, wow!”

You loved music, and you’d always wanted to start collecting vinyls as it looked cool, but everyone knew it was an expensive hobby.

Not only had Chuuya gotten that—a very nice one, too—he also got the records of your top ten favorite albums.

You looked through the covers, smiling with each new one you saw.

Chuuya explained a few things—how he was setting you up for good because he made sure you got a turntable player instead of a suitcase one, how you should replace the black slip mat with the white one he bought instead so your vinyls look prettier, how to not damage the records…you could hardly pay attention to him though because you were overjoyed at how thoughtful he was for that.

“You seem passionate. Do you collect them too?” you asked.

“No, I just wanted to research to find something good enough for you.”

You could feel your heart melt. He had really spent time picking this out after you’d only mentioned you finding record players vintage and cool twice, and you’d never even pointed out you’d want it as a gift.

“Thank you, Chuuya,” you said, leaning towards him, burying your face in his neck. “I love it…especially how you recall my favorite albums, too.”

“Of course doll,” he replied, running his hands through your hair. “Merry Christmas.”

You could’ve stayed like that, but your little moment with the port mafia executive was ruined when Chuuya glanced over at one of the snack tables to find all the food had just disappeared.

“Now what the fuck?”

You followed, looking at what he was looking at. Then, you realized the man standing by the table with a piece of cake—the last piece of cake.

RANPO caught your gaze and jumped, hyper from all the sugar he consumed. “There you are!” He ran towards you and shoved you on the ground, away from Chuuya.

“Hey man, what the hell is wrong with you?!” he shouted in annoyance.

Ranpo acknowledged the ginger-haired only then, looking up from where he had you suffocating in his arms. “Huh? Oh, sorry, didn’t see ya there.”

Chuuya grew even more infuriated at the provoke.

“You tryna pick a fight?”

“You still want to after knowing how last time turned out?”

Ranpo was referring to their last encounter, where Chuuya had embarrassingly lost against him from a single blow. But you didn’t need to know that.

So, Chuuya used all his willpower to keep silent under an outraged glare as he watched Ranpo drag you away to make sure he didn’t bring up any details about it.

“I got you a gift too!” Ranpo exclaimed as you walked back towards where the other agency members were hanging out. “Wanna guess what it is?”

“Hm…some sort of treat, that’s for sure,” you replied.

“Partly correct!” he replied. “That’s not all that I got you though.”

“Oh? How generous!”

“No!” his response was stern. “A princess like you deserves more…as the world’s greatest detective, noone would know that better than me.”

You smiled. “You’re right, Ranpo.”

With that, he handed you one of the cutest gift baskets you’ve seen. The actual basket was snowman-themed, and inside was everything you wanted that could fit in it—that pajama set you had in your online shopping cart, the new skincare products you’ve wanted to try, your favorite candle—you hadn’t even ever mentioned it to him before. And, of course, a lot of chocolate. Of course, Ranpo would also be the best gift-buyer, using his knowledge to his advantage.

The one thing that really stood out to you, though, was a jar of Hershey kisses, with a note on it that said:

KISSES WHEN I’M NOT AROUND.

It even had a chibi-fied face of the cute brunette on it.

“This is my favorite thing in this gift,” you said.

“Of course, because I know you always miss me when I’m not there to kiss,” Ranpo confidently stated. “Which is why I came up with a solution! They’ll never be as sweet as me, but it works.”

You laughed in delight. It was a very creative idea. “This is amazing; thank you, Ranpo!”

Never knowing how to respond to thankfulness directly, he answered it with something else. “Hey, there’s something on your nose.”

“Really?” You moved a hand to feel what was on there, but Ranpo grabbed your wrist to prevent you. Instead, he bopped your nose with his lips.

“There was frosting,” he said, probably from when he excitedly greeted you earlier.

“You enjoyed those desserts, huh?” you asked, glancing at the depleted table once again.

“Yup! It was just lying there, and noone said anything about how much you could take, so…!” He paused, trying to remember something.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

…

You chatted with agency and port mafia members alike a while after. Everyone was having a good time, even when Chuuya started bickering with Dazai and challenged him to a duel.

“Shithead!

“Mackerel!”

“How about you talk once you grow another two inches?”

As everyone was being entertained by Chuuya breaking an entire wall by throwing Dazai through it, your eyes were distracted by an elaborate bouquet of roses and baby breaths that you hadn’t noticed before.

Curious because it wasn’t by any other gifts, you left the crowd to inspect it.

You were surprised when you picked the arrangement up and saw that it was addressed to your name on a note. However, there was no name to say who it was from.

You looked around to see if anyone was nearby that could’ve placed the flowers there. But everyone else was watching the fight.

You flipped the note over, seeing a sketch of an elevator and a four-number code on the back.

An elevator?

You scanned the hall once again. The only elevator there was the one at the corner, restricted to the port mafia. The guests weren’t allowed to use it, and a security pad was guarding it.

You hesitated but then decided to approach the door. If someone gave you the code they wanted and were permitting you to use it, right?

Once again, no one protested because they were all distracted watching Chuuya on the ceiling, making sure Dazai couldn’t touch him. You pressed the four numbers into the pinpad and were congratulated with a correct ding! sound and the elevator sliding open.

You stepped inside and realized there was only one button—to go up. You pressed it, and the doors closed, moving you up.

Luxurious as always, the elevator had a glass window, the entire city of Yokohama coming into view as you went higher. A few seconds in, you realized that the elevator wasn’t going to stop until you reached the top.

You still weren’t sure who had mysteriously invited you to meet them. You hoped it wasn’t the boss—the doctor in charge creeped you out, if you were being honest. But you figured it couldn’t be him because he was also downstairs, chilling with the agency’s president.

Your heartbeat raced as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, adrenaline surging in anticipation of the surprise, coupling with the chilly breeze outside. You had reached the rooftop.

“You’re so easy to tempt; those flowers drew you in faster than a blind mouse to a piece of cheese laid in a trap.”

You smiled as you heard the foreign accent of the person near the edge riddle you while admiring the entire city below. “Hi, Fedya.”

FYODOR turned around, violet eyes meeting yours.

“I should’ve known.” Of course, the enigma was him—conundra was the Russian’s signature.

“How in the world did you even get here?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. He always had his ways to infiltrate anywhere—through deception, through hacking, anything goes.

“I invited ourselves,” he smirked, and only then did you notice his two subordinates on the other side, one in fear as the other tried to trip him over the ledge. “Didn’t want to miss out on the gift-giving either.”

Fyodor took out a jewelry box. “I hardly get to see you. So I thought to get you something that you could wear everyday.

“And this one is special, to remind you of my presence even more.” He opened it, revealing a bracelet, and like Dazai, he also knew what color jewelry suited you best. It was nothing too showy—it was simple, but it was classy, timeless, just like him.

And you noticed what made it special. There was no clasp. It was made to be welded on the person’s wrist—a forever bracelet.

“Choose wisely,” Fyodor said as you looked in awe. “Which wrist, milaya?”

You quickly contemplated and held out one of your wrists towards him as he took out tweezers and a small laser. You watched as he delicately fastened the bracelet around your arm, making sure it sat on your wrist perfectly.

“Finished, fine with it?” he asked when he was done, and you lifted your hand toward the horizon.

“It’s perfect, thank you,” you responded candidly. Then, Fyodor lifted up his own sleeve under his coat, revealing a matching one. You were almost stunned, because you didn’t think he would be the type to wear anything other than a necklace.

“Merry Christmas, dorogaya,” he softly said, pressing you against his chest in a hug.

“WAIT, WAIT! Dove, there’s still me! Don’t seal away your heart just yet!”

“Huh?” You both turned towards NIKOLAI, who kindly but quickly moved Fyodor away from you.

The next thing you knew, there were foil snowman and reindeer balloons in your hand, white confetti popped over you, acting as snow, and the jester standing in front of you presenting a large gift.

“To be honest, I’m scared,” you admitted, knowing his chaotic, playful nature.

“Why?” he giggled. “Think I’m going to scare ya, baby? You can take my word, there’s no jumpscares in this one.”

“You better not be lying,” you said and removed the lid of the black box that reminded you of a magician’s top hat.

And he was being truthful because you were greeted with the exact opposite of remarkable. He had gifted you plain, white socks.

“Wow, Kolya. I never even knew you were capable of being mundane.”

He laughed once again as he just set the box in front of you, not saying anything more as you stared at him in confusion.

You took the socks out. Surely, there was a catch. He was acting too suspicious. And the entire gift was odd. You found nothing tampered with on the socks, though. And there was nothing else in the box. So why was it so big? And why did it look deeper than where the bottom stopped?

You nervously looked at Nikolai before sticking both hands in. You felt your way around the level until you realized the entire package floor felt like paper machete, something used in piñatas and things like that.

By instinct, you lifted a fist and punched through the box. You immediately punctured through the false bottom, uncovering your true gift.

He celebrated. “Smart girl!”

There was an assortment of plushies—many of them. You always asked Nikolai to help you get some whenever you found claw machines at amusement parks, so he knew you loved stuffed animals.

Then, there was a large, fluffy throw blanket, perfect for winter.

“I got that because I know you’re probably so cold when I’m not hugging you.” True. Nikolai encapsulated you like a blanket whenever he came over.

“The thought of having this didn’t even cross my mind,” you said. “Well, that goes for everything you do,” you chuckled.

“That was really creative; I love it, thank you!”

Nikolai popped more confetti, this time in pink hearts. “She loves it! Happy, happy Christmas!”

He swung you off the ground, spinning you with ease until your own head started spinning the opposite way.

“Gogol! I think she’s dizzy!”

The two-tone-haired casino owner had a concerned look on his face, and you couldn’t tell if it was because your eyes were unfocusing or because Nikolai was throwing you around so easily. Strong guy.

Nikolai stopped, realizing he had gotten too excited. “Sorry, dove! Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you responded, unable to keep your balance as you tripped over yourself. You landed on SIGMA’s torso, and he helped guide you to stand up properly again.

“Thanks, Sigma,” you replied. “How are you?”

“Good, now that I get to see you again.” He lightly blushed, breaking eye contact as you smiled. “I’m glad to see you too.”

“I got you something as well,” he replied, showing his own present. “I’m not sure what the people downstairs got you, and mine isn’t as fancy as Dostoevsky’s nor as extraordinary as Gogol’s, but I hope you like it.”

You felt warm, even in the icy weather. “Awh, just hearing that you got something for me is more than enough,” you replied. “I am so grateful no matter what.”

You took the present and opened it, first greeted by a new set of poker cards. However, this one was different because when you sifted through them, you realized it was the Decay of Angel’s custom set. You had been wowed by Nikolai’s Joker and Fyodor’s Jack when you first saw them, always using the set when you played a game with others.

But there was also a new addition to this stack. You were on it, taking your place as the queen.

“What? Sigma, this is so cool!”

There was one more thing inside. Your favorite lipstick in your favorite shade.

Sigma loved the color and even more how it looked on you. He loved how his cheeks would stain whenever you kissed him there—the pigmented contrast to his paler skin. You hardly needed restocking as you loved the lipstick yourself, but it was always good to have another extra.

“Merry Christmas,” Sigma said as you opened the container and swatched it on your face. You looked as beautiful as ever.

“Merry Christmas, Sigma,” you responded, kissing his forehead. Then, you pulled a cookie wrapped in a napkin from inside your coat and placed it in his mouth.

“Saved it for you,” you giggled. “There’s a lot downstairs. Maybe they’ll let you guys in if I say I invited you. Well, at least you.”

i heard if u rb, u will receive x2 gifts this xmas from ur favs! reblogs are appreciated; they are your christmas gift to me! <3

tags : @kissesmellow21

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