#but I just can’t shake the feeling that people are growing tired of me and that they’re like... I dunno. like I wear people out sometimes.
It's Never Over (C. S.)
contains: 2nd person pov, angst, somewhat toxic relationship, verbal argument, relationship issues, kissing, smut (softdom!chris), overstimulation, angry/make up sex, unprotected sex, 3.4k words
a/n: hi friends. this is apart of the triple threat event sooo don't forget to go see my babies @luv4kozume and @rootbeerworshiper for two more fics for your smutty needs. j will be posting in one hour and sienna is an hour after that.
masterlist
Maybe we’re too young.
The thought bounces around your head uncontrollably as you watch Chris move silently through the kitchen from your perch on the counter. You haven’t been home long- maybe 10 minutes- but after the day you’ve had, the silence feels like a jab.
“So,” you start, raising your eyebrow as he pulls out a drink and leans against the counter across from you. “How do you think the pictures will turn out?”
He gives you a tired look, seemingly trying to gauge whether your question is a trap. “I actually really fucked with it. It’s a new look for us.”
You two had spent the entire day on the set of a photo and promo shoot for Fresh Love’s new line of products. He was right about it being a new look and he’d gone all out for the launch; the shoot had been completely 90s-themed to match the vibe of the products and he’d recruited some influencers to model.
Not that you were keeping track or anything, but the original idea had been yours and you’d put countless hours in helping him execute it. That isn’t to say you minded at all... at least not until today.
“I’m glad it’s exactly how you envisioned it.” You say, testing the waters unsure if you wanted to raise the issue again.
But Chris takes the bait and groans. “Don’t start.”
“I didn’t even say anything, Chris. But I just don’t understand why my input stops being taken seriously as soon as other people are around.”
“Did you ever stop and consider that maybe my photoshoot wasn’t the place for you to start a random ass argument?”
“I wasn’t trying to start one. And my bad, I didn’t realize you stopped being my boyfriend when you walked on a set.” Your eyes narrow as you stare him down, irritation at the situation resurfacing.
He sighs heavily, running a hand over his face. “I don’t but it’d be cool if my girlfriend supported me on days like this instead of adding more stress.”
Your eyes grow wide and you look around dramatically. “I’m sorry? Is that not all I do? Planning with you. Pitching ideas. Running around finding any little thing I can do to help? You wouldn’t even have the new product ideas without me.”
He throws his hands up in surrender, pushing off the counter and stepping closer. “And I’m grateful, baby. You know I am. I’m not saying you’re not important to me. I’m saying it can’t always be about you.”
“Can it sometimes be about me?” You question, feeling like you’re losing your mind. “I would never have an entire photoshoot full of influencers and not even ask you to join. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”
“Oh my-” He laughs out harshly, turning away for a second and then turning back. “I knew that’s what this was about. The team wanted people with over a million, not me-”
“And who owns Fresh Love, Chris? Don’t act like you have no control.”
“I own it, but it’s not just me who runs it. How stupid would I be if I hired a marketing team and didn't fucking listen to them?” His voice raises slightly and he shakes his head, attempting to regain composure.
“Probably as stupid as I looked pulling up to the set and looking for hair and makeup. You should have told me.” With that you slide off of the counter, intending to let the argument die there and go to bed but he follows behind you.
“How are you mad at me because you assumed you were modeling? I never said that. I invited you to the set like I do every time because You. Are. My. Girlfriend.” He claps to emphasize his points and you spin to glare at him.
“I’m not just your girlfriend, Chris. I work hard on my content just like you.” You say defensively. The decision to even begin posting was his idea so you can’t believe how unsupported you feel.
“And I'm so proud of you. You know I am.” He says with sincerity, bringing a hand to his chest. “But you aren’t..." His sentence trails off and he gives you an uncomfortable look.
“What?” You challenge, knowing exactly where this is going. “Say it. Tell me how little I matter since I haven’t hit the right numbers yet.”
He rolls his eyes and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s business. And they asked for people with reach. What did you want me to do?”
“Fight for me, Chris. That’s what I expected you to do.” You turn and head over to your dresser, snatching out your favorite oversized t-shirt and changing quickly.
Chris leans against the door frame with his arms crossed, watching you intensely until you finally face him with a scowl. “Stop following me.”
“I just can’t believe this is how you want to end this night. Why can’t you celebrate this win with me?” He asks, annoyance coating his tone.
“Go celebrate with Brooke. You two looked comfy today.” You suggest as you pass him to head into the bathroom.
Behind you, he barks out a laugh of disbelief before whispering something under his breath. You don’t even bother asking him to speak up, grabbing your makeup remover instead.
“So what’s that supposed to mean, huh? You're gonna start throwing accusations at me now?” He sounds absolutely over the conversation but won’t walk away to cool off. It’s a flaw you have in common.
“Just saying Addison has twice the followers as her but somehow you put her centerstage. I mean, I thought this was a numbers game.” You say, refusing to look over at him as you lather your face wash.
If you’re being completely honest, it’s not like you actually believe Chris would ever cheat on you. One thing Chris has always been is loyal to a fault. But right now you're itching for a reaction. No matter how you have to get it.
“You have to be fucking kidding.” He says, reacting exactly like you expected him to. “When the fuck would I be cheating on you?”
“How am I supposed to know? People make time for what’s important to them.” You say, letting your voice take on a nonchalant tone as you pat your face dry.
“That’s so fucking stupid and you know it. Look, I’m sorry you’re not where you want to be in your career but don’t take it out on me.” He grinds out, his voice thick with distaste.
You spin to face him, your eyebrows high. There it is. At least he finally said it. “Wow, Chris. Tell me how you really feel.”
“Y/N.” He says, rubbing his eyes roughly. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Do you think I could buy a shoutout, Mr. Six Mill? Only if you have time, of course.” You drawl, pressing your hands together into a begging gesture.
“Tell me what you want to hear, baby. Tell me what I need to say to end this conversation.” He says, stepping toward you but you take a step back instead, leaning against the sink.
“How about an apology? How about recognizing that I worked hard on this launch too and deserved to be a part of it? Anything except this condescending bullshit.”
He drops to his knees dramatically, looking up at you with a faux pleading look on his face. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Please forgive me.”
You shake your head and curl your lip up in disgust. “Yeah. ‘Cause everything’s a joke, right?”
Chris blows out a huff of irritation and stands up, reaching out to wrap his arms around you and spinning you around to face the mirror. He presses himself into your back and meets your eye in the reflection as he runs his hands up and down your body. “Aren’t you tired of arguing yet?”
Your gaze drops to his hands, watching as he slowly and methodically slides up your oversized t-shirt and rubs teasingly at your inner thighs.
"You know I love you." He whispers, his grip tightening as he trails higher, grazing your heat before dipping his hands back down.
“Do you?” You question childishly, heat flooding your body as his hands travel your skin. He leans in close, the cool breath of his words sending a shiver down your spine. “Let me prove how much.”
Part of you wants to snatch away from him and refuse to reward his arrogance. But there is something so erotic about the way his eyes stay locked on yours as he moves in closer to where you need him most. Without your permission your body melts into his, the muscle memory from every other time he’s made you feel this way activating naturally.
You turn your head to look at him full-on instead of the reflection, the slight flush on his face from the arguing turning you on even more. “Nah. Prove how much you need me.”
If Chris is at all surprised by your demand, he doesn’t show it. He just walks you closer to the sink and spins you around by the waist to face him. His blue eyes are so coated with lust and frustration they seem almost brown under the harsh bathroom lighting.
He lifts you onto the counter, pausing only for the barest of seconds before crashing his lips against yours. The sudden movement pushes the back of your head into the mirror but you barely feel it over the heat and pressure of his kiss.
His hand travels under your shirt, his fingertips grazing your nipple with a frustratingly delicate touch that has you groaning into his mouth. You pull away, drawing a shudder out of him when you lightly nip his bottom lip as you do.
“Stop wasting my time.” You demand, your hands fiddling with the bottom of his shirt in a hint for him to take it off.
He does with a roll of his eyes before he comes back, placing a firm hand on the back of your neck and bringing you closer. “You can drop the attitude now. You know you want this just as much as I do.”
Pain flashes through you again briefly as you consider the possibility that this is the only thing you two will ever agree on wanting but you push it down and lean in to run a tongue over his collarbone. “Shut up and prove it like you said you would.”
A smirk grows across his face before he nods and kneels down slowly, pushing open your legs and roughly snatching off your thin underwear. Pushing your legs open wider, he buries his face in your inner thighs and peppers lingering kisses on them as he trails closer to your heat.
When he finally reaches it, it’s clear he’s not done taking his time as he runs his tongue through your folds purposefully avoiding where you want him most. You push at his shoulders in annoyance and he chuckles darkly, only making your wetness grow despite yourself.
The first kiss he places on your clit is slow and shallow before he leans back to find your eyes. “I always forget how fucking pretty you are.” He says as he smooths a thumb over you before diving back in with a new urgency.
There’s reverence in the way his tongue circles your clit, the movements somehow both precise and desperate. Before you even realize what you’re doing, you find yourself grinding your hips up to chase your pleasure, pathetic whimpers falling from your lips.
You don’t need to glance down to feel his eyes on you, baby blue and laser-focused as he peers up to gauge your reaction, alternating expertly between sucking and flicking his tongue. But instead of giving him the reaction he wants, you press your fist into your mouth and work to keep your face a mask. You’re determined to grant him as little praise as possible, leftover anger spurring on your pettiness.
Smiling against your core at the challenge, he readjusts his hold on you, slinging one of your legs lazily onto his shoulder before locking his arms around your thighs to keep you still. He pulls fully away and you finally snap your eyes to his, a protest on the tip of your tongue.
“I can do this all night and still make sure you never come. Stop playing with me.” His voice is like velvet as he warns you, not even pausing for your response before he buries himself back in. He taps your leg, signaling for you to hold it before he readjusts to add his fingers, swirling them around teasingly before pumping them inside to stretch you out.
All of your pride flies out the window as he fucks into you with his fingers, finding your g spot easily and caressing it. Flinging your head from side to side and calling his name wildly, you feel a familiar pressure building inside of you. “Please, Chris.” You beg as you tangle your hands into his hair.
His pace only increases when he realizes you are close, his moans against your clit sending vibrations through your body and driving you even crazier. You tug his hair lightly as your body tightens and grind your hips against his fingers to ride out your orgasm.
Chris pauses and removes his fingers slowly before placing one last kiss on your throbbing heat. He comes up with his breathing unsteady and a look of pure triumph on his face as he sucks his fingers into his mouth.
Your legs are still trembling slightly as you slide off of the counter and pull his face down to yours. This kiss feels different, like coming home, and you can tell he feels the same. He kisses you back like he loves you like the taste of you is air and he’s suffocating.
It’s been a while since you two were desperate enough to leave marks on each other’s skin but he does tonight. And you let him without a single thought to the effort of covering them up, too focused on his tongue working over the sweet spots of your neck.
You reach down fumbling with his belt impatiently as your breathing goes ragged, and free his hardened length, stroking it slowly.
His lips freeze on your throat as he thrusts into your hand before he yanks away and spins you back around, pressing his palm into your back and kicking your feet apart to give him access.
You feel his tip nudge against your entrance, slipping down further to tease your clit briefly, your only warning before he slides inside of you. A cry tears out of you as he rolls his hips into yours, bottoming out.
You’re still soaked from your orgasm but as he stretches you out around him, you feel yourself coat him even more and he groans. “My pretty girl. Best fucking feeling in the world.” He pushes your shirt further up your back, his fingertips trailing your spine lightly as he continues to thrust into you.
Squirming with a need for him to go faster, you push your hips up to meet his, forcing him deeper and making you both curse. He takes the hint, wrapping his hand tightly around your shirt for leverage before setting a brutal rough pace.
Your vision starts to blur so you close them as you try to hold on to the counter for stability. With your eyes squeezed tightly closed, it’s almost easy to pretend the tears swelling up are from the intensity of the moment and not from everything that came before.
Because it’s nothing if not intense, your stomach pressing into the sink as he slams inside of you roughly. His free hand grips the counter so hard his knuckles turn white and he keeps up his insane pace. His name slips from your mouth as a moan, seeming to spur him on as he increases his tempo even more.
“That’s right, baby. What’s my name?” The sound of his voice barely breaks through your fucked out trance and you lift your head to see him through the mirror.
The sight of him almost pushes you right over the edge immediately and you watch him in a sort of fascination. The way his muscles strain with his movement, his slightly open mouth before he bites down on his bottom lip. But it’s the wink he throws you when he notices you watching that has you contracting around him for the second time tonight.
This orgasm tears through you like a wave and you lose all control as Chris fucks you through it, never missing a stroke. If you had it in you to be embarrassed right now, you would be mortified at the things you say at this moment. Making promises, calling him names you never thought you’d utter, telling him exactly who you belong to.
When you come down, Chris’ pace slows and he pulls you up to face him. He watches you tenderly before he lifts the shirt from over your head and kisses you deeply.
He leads you to your bedroom and lays you down at the center of the bed, climbing on top of you slowly.
He enters you again with a gasp and you bring your mouth up to his to swallow it, his hand traveling up to lightly circle your neck. You moan in contentment and he makes a sound of approval from the back of his throat as he begins to thrust.
His strokes are slow and as deep as he can make them, his hands roaming your body as his tongue explores your mouth. There’s emotion laced in every snap of his hip and you know him well enough to understand every message. I love you. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.
Pleasure coils around you as his thumb finds your clit and circles it, coaxing you closer to the finish line as he drops his head near your ear. His hips stuttering tell you he’s close and you bring your mouth up to his ear to whisper. “Come for me.”
He groans loudly in response, fighting not to lose control yet. “You first.”
“I already did!”
“I don’t care. Give me one more.”
At his words, he pulls himself up and angles himself deeper, finding your g spot and plowing into it mercilessly. You drag your nails down his back, yours arching up off the bed. “Chris, I can’t.”
He shushes you softly, his lips claiming yours again as he continues to push into you. Ultimately it’s his muffled moan of “fuck” against your mouth that sends you over the edge, your face screwed up from an erotic mix of ecstasy and exhaustion.
You know you can’t take much more but Chris follows right behind you, dropping his head on your shoulder and moaning your name into it.
You lay there breathing heavily, skin to skin, for a while before you tap his back and he slides out of you. Awkwardness settles between you, so thick you’re not sure what to do with it so you stand wordlessly and head for a shower.
Your thoughts race as you scrub the remnants of him off your skin. The words you threw back and forth play on repeat in your brain as you wonder how to fix what’s between you before it’s too late.
The bathroom door opens and you watch through the streamy glass as Chris settles on the counter. The same counter he had you bent over not long ago.
You step out of the shower and grab your robe, all the while avoiding his eye contact. This is the part you hate the most. The part that never ends. Because neither of you knows how to force it to end.
He clears his throat, gesturing for you to come to him when you finally meet his eyes. Once you are standing between his legs, he pushes your wet hair out of your face gently as he studies your face. “You know how much you mean to me, don’t you?”
The nod you give is reluctant and slow. It’s never been a question of if Chris loves you. Just a question of whether he appreciates you.
But he continues this time, his eyes holding a fierce sort of intensity. “I’d give this all up for us if I had to. My whole platform if it means I can wake up next to you.”
Your breath hitches at this and you feel the tears threatening to fall so you bury your face in his shoulder, letting him pull your body into his.
And you hope. Hope that his words are more than just words. Hope that you’re not too young to keep each other from slipping between your fingers.
A/N: thanks so much for reading my loves. don't forget to head over to my girl @luv4kozume's page in exactly one hour for her new matt smut. 🗣️
🏷️/ @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos @teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo @clemlament @maryx2xx @fwskullz
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CURSED SPIRIT — y.o
⛤ curse! yuuta okkotsu x fem! reader
yuuta okkotsu being your one and only curse.
cw. smut. unprotected sex. creampies. multiple orgasms. groping. dry humping. public sex-ish. fingering. slight oral (f. receiving). overstimulation. thigh fucking. somnophilia. possessiveness. yandere tendencies. mentions of violence. +18!
wc: 1.2k
a/n: inspired by @deviants-forest work! etc. (go check it out) also happy kinktober! :)
Curse!yuuta who creeps up your back, his hands finding your waist and his lips tickle your ear as he’s whispering how much he needs you on a subway train to home. “Not now…” you whisper over your shoulder to him trying not to be noticeable by others who crowded you and payed no mind, too busy on their phones. You bit your bottom lip when he presses himself against your ass in one movement already having your blood rush like crazy. You try to keep your composure like nothings bothering you but yuuta’s hard on humping into you desperately, whining in your ear and his cold hands reaching under your shirt to grope your boob. “need you ‘s bad” he was always touchy, could never keep his hands off you.
Curse!yuuta who doesn’t mind your sorcerer friends as long as they don’t get too close. Your friends can sense the heavy weight of cursed energy from you, even if they got close it was too much to bare sense yuuta was around, the air would fill thick and negative. You could barely go out with them to eat without his fingers buried in your cunt and playing your clit. They would ask you if you were okay when your head is down on the table but you just excuse it as you were not feeling well for a second but yuuta is grinning ear to ear, amused how your well your taking his slender fingers, curling them inside and you can’t help but squirm in your seat acting like your stomach is just hurting though you were about to orgasm. “Please yuuta..” you whisper to him “Come on you can cum on my fingers..” his raspy tone sending you shivers down your back.
Curse!yuuta who watches an “old friend” hug you, his hands in places that shouldn’t be. After you would praise yuuta for staying calm but yuuta would give shake his head only because you would be upset if he did anything and simply gave you a warning “Next time I’ll break his arm” “You can’t be serious” you sigh, you always knew he was.
Curse!yuuta who clenches his fist watching some prick try to flirt with you in front of him knowing he can’t be seen. Even the second time you reject him you can feel yuuta’s anger grow by the second that in any moment he would take action. “I-i have a boyfriend-“ praying yuuta doesn’t get violent “I don’t see him?” His hand coming up to touch your shoulder now he’s on the floor shouting in pain, blood from his broken nose all over his hands, shaken up that he didn’t see anyone hit him? Was he going crazy? “Pathetic” Yuuta mutters luckily he held back a lot, he could do so much worse and this wasn’t the first time.
Curse!yuuta who gets anxious that you might hate him when you get into arguments. He feels like he can’t exist without you, he’s nothing without you and the thought of you hating him makes his heart sink and scared that he’ll be all alone. He didn’t care about anyone else he just needed you. The amount of times you got tired of telling him not to hurt people and you could handle the situation yourself. He’ll plead you not to hate him and apologized excessively. “We can talk about this tomorrow” his stomach sinking by the tone of your voice that it will all end up to you hating him. He couldn’t stand the feeling.
Curse!yuuta who wants to let you know how much he loves you and how much he needs you, praying you don’t leave him or hate him. He glares at you in your sleeping state though he can’t wait til tomorrow he needed you to know now. “Please don’t hate me” “i love you so much” as he’s softly kissing your neck on each side, peeling your panties off. The cold air makes your cunt clench at his sight. He’s kissing the inner of your thighs sweetly and his lips makes contact with your pussy and a small whimper emits from your mouth. “Yuuta” you utter half sleep thinking it was only a sex dream, you were a heavy sleeper at that. he’s burying his lips between your folds trying to get more like he was so starved. If he can just make you feel good you won’t be mad at him and you can forgive him.
Curse!yuuta who can’t wait any longer, his dick pulsating through his pants even how much he gets drunk off your pussy, he loves the taste of it every time but he’s rutting against the mattress. Brings your thighs together to slip his cock between, throwing his head back letting out quiet moans as his cock is rubbing against your clit between your thighs. Your eyelids almost twitching open. He spreads your legs apart and sinks his dick into you watching your pretty lashes flutter at the sudden pleasure of you being spread apart. “Yu..?” You begin to stir awake, he kisses your lips before you start to fully take consciousness. “I don’t want you to hate me” “forgive me please” as he’s thrusting harsh inside you and swallowing your lips. By the time your walls were the shape of him every time he used you so it was easy for him to slide right in, you were made for him and he was made for you was the thought that brought him comfort. His fingers entwines with yours, his cock continuously rubbing hard in your insides. “Yuuta!” You moaned beautifully in his ear, your hand clawing at his back, yuuta loved it, it didn’t hurt him because you could never hurt him he didn’t mind it.
Curse!yuuta not wanting to stop, he’ll never get tired of cumming and filling up your pussy. You’ll be overstimulated begging him to stop it was awfully much to handle, you couldn’t cum anymore but you did as he’s plunging his cock in your abused cunt. The choke sobs and sounds of squelching filled the room “Need you-need you tell me you love me…please f-forgive me..ah!” Rubbing your clit increasing more nerves. “I-i love you yuuta! Ah-I really do! I could never be mad at you” Your words lifting weight off his chest still pounding into you. Holding you in a warm embrace to finish inside you. When he did filling up your womb one last time with his string of cum, your nails dig into his back letting your last orgasms crash into you. You let out a cry into his shoulder, your body trembles.
Curse!yuuta who needs constant reassurance you’ll never leave him, placing gentle kisses on each part of his face. Even though he’s nothing but a curse to you, being invisible to the outside world, Has a hard time showing remorse it’s just what he does to protect you, he somewhat doesn’t know that but knows he can be a bit possessive he just can’t help the urges of anyone getting close to you or worse even laying a finger.
Curse!yuuta bending you over the counter in the morning as you were trying to make yourself breakfast, last night was rough you were a bit sore but yuuta still misses your pussy. “Just a quick one I promise! I miss you so much! I’m just displaying my love for you—“ he pushes himself inside your worn out cunt from last night once again, you whimper at the feeling each time he rolls his hips when his balls slap against you. His hands reaching to your tit, massaging it in his palms. You don’t think you could ever break the curse from yuuta okkotsu.
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family
carlos sainz jr x pregnant!reader
summary: your son has a few questions about why his little sister is in your belly, and carlos is happy to explain
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Lazy mornings with your little family were your favorite. You smiled to yourself as you woke to the hushed whispers of your husband and your son. As you turn to face the other side of the bed, you’re met with 2 pairs of brown puppy dog eyes and 2 identical smiles.
“Buenos dias, mama!” good morning mom your son screeched, proud of himself for using Spanish. “Buenos dias baby” you say through a smile. He latches on to your neck and you feel Carlos’ hand rubbing patterns on your stomach. “Morning hermosa” beautiful he says going in for a kiss. “How is little girl?” he asks. “Sleeping I think. She must be tired after all the kicking she did last night” you groan, recalling the many hours you were woken due to the relentless kicking in your stomach. “lo lamento, se amable con mami” i’m sorry, be nice to mommy he says leaning to talk to his unborn daughter. You just laugh and shake your head at the pout he has on his face, guiding him up by his chin to give him another kiss.
“Papa,” your little boy starts, breaking you and Carlos apart. “How did baby get in mommy’s belly?” he asks as he puts his hand over Carlos’ on your stomach. “Well hijo” son Carlos starts. “Me and mommy love each other, and we made your sister together because we love each other” he says, hoping it’s enough to settle your sons curiosity. “Like when you and mommy make pancakes together?” he asks, now moving to sit in his fathers lap. “No, not like when we make pancakes” he laughs. “He is just made out of love, baby. When 2 people love each other so much and want a little baby like you, they will make one. That’s all I can tell you” he says, avoiding a heavier subject. “But mommy, did it hurt when baby went in your tummy?” he now turns to you with fear in his eyes over the thought of you hurting. “No buddy it didn’t hurt” you assure him, ruffling his hair; but you don’t miss the smirk Carlos sends your way remembering the night in question. “So why does baby stay in mommy’s belly for so long?” he asks, now turning to look at Carlos for the answer. “That’s just where they grow buddy. Babies need lots of space to grow and the only place there is enough room is in a mommy’s tummy” he responds. “Oh” he hums, taking in all the information he’s learning. “But how does baby come out?” he goes on, his eyes lighting up when he gets another question. “When he is ready to come out me and Mommy will go to the hospital and the doctors will help her come out” Carlos answers. “But does it hurt?” your son asks, once again scared of you being hurt. “Only a little bit” you say, “but it is worth it because then we get to hold your little sister”.
As your son continues asking questions and Carlos continues tracing patterns across your stomach, you can’t help but smile at the little life you’ve created. Who knew one bed could hold so much love on a random morning.
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hope you guys enjoyed this short little blurb:) sorry it’s been so long since i’ve posted, there was a lot going on and then i started school but in honor of Carlos’ birthday AND pole today i figured i’d post something!! might clear my drafts out and post some more in the next week or so<3
also my inbox is open, so request anything if you have any ideas! or if you just want to talk to someone, feel free!
okay last thing, thank you all for the support, it’s so special to me to have people with the same interests reading and liking my work, i want to give you all hugs<333
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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏
✧.* CHAPTER 39 || The Way He Needs You
[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?
[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, semi-filthy smut, & some angst.
[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.2k
[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.
[ [ chapters mlist } ]
————YOU FORGOT CHOSO WAS a damn freak. He wasn’t a pervert, like he’s not the type to get off on your clothes right in front of you like others have but, Choso Kamo is a very freaky man.
He likes to experiment with you sometimes, whether it’s seeing how much he can stretch your legs up and almost over your head or testing to see how many times he can make you cum before you squirt, he’s enamored by the process of pleasing you.
Currently, you were on top of his muscular parted thighs, his hands were on your bare hips as your clothes had been disregarded, and he started out by having you bounce on his cock nonstop for as long as he could get you to go. His pretty brown eyes all over you as your tits jumped in front of his face.
You were no stranger to the cowgirl position, especially not with Choso who seems to love said position more than anything. Whether it’s reversed or not, he loves seeing you on top of him, taking every inch of him for as long as possible until you’re whining about your legs being tired, to which he’d take control and stuff his inches up into you.
Slick sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his erect cock followed by the slap of skin each time you sink all the way down fill the entirety of the man’s art studio. If it wasn’t his big dick that’d knock right into your sweet spot every single time you plopped down, then it was Choso’s mouth that made you a wet mess.
His hands were on your hips, gripping onto you tight enough to leave marks but his head was tossed back. The sexy sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed down groans and grunts each time your gummy walls clamped down around his shaft just right was just perfect.
Choso doesn’t mind letting out his sounds, he knows you like them. “Oh fuuuck…” He choked out, his eyes flickering back for a second, “Jus’ like tha-at baby, ride that dick like it’s yours… s-shit…”
“Hah… ah…” You smile briefly, “It is, isn’t it?”
He smirks and shifts his head back into place, meeting your eyes, “You tell me, fuck…”
Your little moment of confidence goes away just as quickly as it came, “T-Tell you?”
Choso bites his lower lip and he lifts you up a bit higher before slamming you down, “Tell me it’s yours, princess… Show me who this dick belongs to.”
“F-Fuck…” You moan, growing shy in a matter of seconds, “Y-You want me to… mmgh, s-say that?”
“Mhm…” Choso nods his head, smiling a little, “Tell me, baby…”
“S-Shit, Cho… I…” Your eyelashes flutter for a moment as you continue to bounce and grind on his length.
He tilts his head and pouts at you. You’re so cute when you get like this. It’d be at random that you’d take control in the past but Choso loved it when you were shy too. He loved seeing how nervous you get to voice out what he asks you to and how you start trying to look away.
Which you begin to do now, turning your head to the side and biting your lower lip in embarrassment.
Choso chuckles and you feel the palms of his hands caress the sides of your body, his hands finding their rightful place on your waist, “Can’t say it, baby?” He coos.
You shake your head a bit and then moan, “Mmh.. n-no…”
“C’mon, yeah you can.” He teases, moving one hand to your arm. Your brows tense for a second before he forces your hand to his neck, his eyes still on yours despite you looking away, “Tell me I’m yours, princess. F-Fuck… claim me.”
Steadily, your eyes slide over to his and you rock your hips back and forth with vigor, feeling the tip of his cock knock around your insides just right. “C-Choso… hah…” You shake your head and bite back the words he wants you to say.
“Mmmh..” Choso hums, sliding your hand up a little and then forcing the tip of your thumb near his mouth. He licks you briefly, “Jus’ say it; who do I belong to?” He asks.
You let out a shaky breath, “M-Me, fuck…”
“Yeah?” He smiles and you feel the way his cock twitches inside you, “I belong to you?”
“Mhmmm.” You whine, blindly nodding your head at the man.
“All yours, right?” Choso teases, moving to toss his head back and force your hand to his neck once more.
You pick up on what it is he wants you to do so you tighten your grasp on his neck ever so slightly, “Y-Yeah, all m-mine,”
The sudden grip made him moan in such a sultry manner, his eyes rolling back for a second, “F-Fuck, baby…” He chuckles a little, “If you’re gonna’ choke me, d-do it harder…”
Shit, he was really into this. But so were you, your hand squeezing around his neck a bit more as you sped up the movement of your hips. You’d rock your hip forward and lift slightly at the same time, then reverse the movement before rolling in a circular motion, the sensation making Choso lose his mind.
“Holy s-shit,” Choso suddenly whines, his face and ears reddening, “F-Fuck me… aaugh…”
His hand left yours and he went back to holding your hips and encouraging your movement. Choso groans and moans so loudly and unashamed, feeling the way your cunt gushes and pulses around his cock.
You grin just barely, your confidence returning to you as you see the needy state you’ve brought him to, “You’re so cute like this, Cho.” You hum out to him, your voice coming out more breathy than you would’ve liked.
Choso unconsciously thrusts up into you and his head tips forward, his eyes low and filled with lust as they meet yours, “Yeah? Think’ m’cute like this?” He utters.
You nod and take your hand off his neck. Then, you lean back a little and start forcing yourself to raise nearly off his cock completely and then flop right back down, making the man choke on air.
“Shiiit… M’gonna cum-,” Choso releases that whiney whimper you’ve heard before, “You’re g-gonna make me c-cum, baby…”
You repeat the action over and over and over again, tossing your own head back and riding him in earnest as his words go straight to your core. Choso looks down at the sight, nearly releasing as soon as he sees how slick and soaked his cock is because of you.
Then there’s the way your folds just part around his length, taking his every inch and vein perfectly as your pretty moans hit his ears. The man is moving before he even realizes it, raising a hand to his mouth for a second and spitting on his thumb to then rub over your clit as you fuck him.
Your eyes widen and you gasp, “Fuck-, Choso…” Your hips stutter in movement and he smirks.
“Don’t stop,” Choso encourages, “C’mon keep bouncin’ on me like that. M-Mhmm… Hah… Makes me feel so good, princess.” He tells you, despite his thumb working over your sensitive bud so skillfully that you lose focus for a moment.
Your upper half weighs forward a bit and your body twitches above him, “I… I c-can’t when you-,” Your words transition into a straight moan when the man suddenly presses onto your abdomen, pushing at where the bulge of his cock is and applying a sudden pressure onto it, “F-Fuu-uck…” You whine.
Your legs clamp around him a little and Choso smiles, a sudden idea popping into his mind. “You can’t?” He teases, “Want’ me to help you, hm?”
“P-Please,” You hush out.
“Hm?” Choso hums, suddenly finding the urge to tease you, “Couldn’t hear you... Speak up, pretty girl.”
Your eyes roll back a little as his wet thumb slicks over your clit all too quickly, “Y-Yes, fuck, help me.”
He smiles, “You sure?”
“Yes Choso,” You rush, “Please-”
Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed…
Choso shifts his arms entirely and they slip under your legs. Your eyes go as wide as ever and you’re quick to wrap your arms around his neck before the man suddenly stands up and your knees bend.
Your jaw goes slack when Choso seamlessly moves his hands to hold your legs up and open for him, his dick nearly slipping out of you as the man moves. You couldn’t even get a word out before he carried you away from the couch and to the nearest wall, which wasn’t more than a few steps away.
Your back is pressed against it before you have a chance to process and his hands go to the underside of your thighs, forcing your legs to be folded and spread nice and wide before he shoves every inch of his dripping cock back into you without warning.
“Ohfuck-,” You moan in one breath, holding onto his neck for dear life as you adjust to being carried against a wall. Your eyes shut for a moment and whines slip from your lips.
Choso presses his chest to yours and draws his hips back carefully, “Open your eyes, baby. Look at me,” He whispers, his voice low and coated in deep arousal as his breath hits the skin of your lips.
You do, just barely. His cock was nearly all the way out of you for long enough to give you a minute to breathe. Yet, the very second your eyes open and meet his, Choso’s slowly thrusting his dick right back into you, purposefully watching the way your face twists up as he enters you again.
“S-So… f-fucking,” You choke out a moan, “B-Big…”
“Mhm,” He smirks, “I know… But,” Choso leans in a bit more, his lips brushing right over yours, “You always take it like a good girl, right?”
You nod your head as best as you can and your breath is shared with his own in a very intimate way, “Y-Yeah…”
“Jus’ f’me, right?” Choso suddenly asks.
He’s not dumb, he knows that if there’s another guy, you’ve probably slept with him too. Even so, he doesn’t care about that right now.
Your lips are parted and you try not to moan, “C-Choso, I…”
“Let me pretend baby,” His face twists up in pleasure as his fat tip mushes right into the hilt of your soppy cunt, “L-Let me pretend it’s only me you let do this t-to you…” He huffs out shakily.
“H-Hnnngh… Choso,” You whine at his words, part of you wishing that in another timeline, you met Choso instead of Gojo and his words could prove to be true.
“Tell me it’s just me, princess,” He requests, “Please, l-let me pretend I’m all yours and you’re all mine,” Choso’s voice shifting into something needy for a moment, “P-Please, baby.”
You nod, your mind dazed with pleasure, “I-It’s jus’ you Cho…”
That statement makes him pull out and ease right back in for a second time, “Y-Yeahhh… Jus’ me ‘nd you…” He mumbles.
Yet, amid his moment of pretending that’s actually the case, the necklace that another guy gifted to you earlier that day brushes against him due to how close he is to you. Choso pulls his face back away from yours slightly and his eyes go to the item.
It looks pretty on you. So pretty that he wishes he could’ve bought it for you instead. He wishes he confessed first, wishes he could buy you nice things whenever he wanted to, wishes he was enough for you-- enough so that you didn’t even have to second guess choosing him over someone else.
Lost in those thoughts for a moment, Choso doesn’t even realize he’s started thrusting into you again. His hips are crashing against yours, his hard throbbing cock fucking so roughly into you suddenly. Moans and cries of his name are pouring from your lips and his brows furrow.
“Louder,” Choso suddenly grunts, his voice husky and commanding enough to give you chills, “Moan my name louder f’me. Who’s making you feel good? Hm?”
Your eyes threaten to roll back, “Y-You, Choso… F-Fuuck…”
He nods but his gaze won’t leave that damn jewelry resting against your skin. So, he starts pounding into you harder and harder and harder, watching the way the item jolts and jumps against you with his every mean thrust.
Choso suddenly snaps his eyes up to your own and sees that yours are barely open. He’s fucked you dumb without even realizing it. Drool is already escaping the corner of your lips and you’re just moaning and whining at how aggressive he is.
He leans his face in but tips his head to the side a little. You feel his tongue lap up the liquid that escaped your mouth before he slips the appendage right in between your lips, shoving his tongue in hungrily and kissing you with so much passion it makes your legs go weaker than they already were.
In between his kiss, you’re whimpering, “C-Choso… S’too m-much… m’gonna cum-”
“Do it,” He groans into your mouth, shutting you up with yet another heated kiss. When he pulls away slightly, there’s a fat wad of spit hanging between your lips and his, “Remind me how messy you get f’me,” Choso utters lowly, “Cum all over my cock… Aaagh… fuuck… I told you I wanna feel it all over my legs.”
There’s this loud and filthy squelching that fills the air, along with the stinging slap of his pelvis crashing into your frame every time he fucked his cock into the tightness of your hole. You just take what he gives you, whining and moaning through it.
“C-Choso, ha-ah… mm-mmh… nngh… s’g-good,” You slur out lustfully. He found you nothing but cute in that moment, despite the angry thrust of his hips.
Your nails scrape at his upper back and even his neck a little as you cling onto him for dear life, your cunt spasming and gushing around his length as you come undone.
Choso’s hands grip the plush underside of your thighs like crazy, actually leaving dark marks on you as he begins to pummel his dick into you, reaching right into your cervix every single time. He filled you up so perfectly with his size, driving himself into you so deeply and so harshly.
“That’s my girl,” Choso praises so softly yet lowly, “Thaat’s my fuckin’ girl,” He repeats through a sexy groan.
“M-Mhm,” You nod your head to his words, blindly agreeing.
“Yeah?” Choso huffs out, “Say it then, princess.” His words are so gentle with you but the way his already aggressive pace picks up into something even harsher is frightening.
It’s so sloppy how your slick creates a messy coat around his cock, a ring of your liquids collecting at his base, “M’yours, Cho,” You mumble out quietly.
Your legs part a bit more as he spreads you out, shifting his feet on the floor and adjusting to pump you so stupidly full of his cock. You were sure you could feel him deeper than possible. It was like he was in your stomach, albeit an exaggeration, he was so fucking deep inside you.
And he continues to hit deep and hard, almost meanly. He knows your claims aren’t true. You’re not actually his but he could care less, not right now, not when you looked so damn pretty with your face all fucked out and his name leaving your throat in such a whiney manner.
“You’re mine?” He asks tauntingly, “If that’s the case then… mgh… Can I fuck you full of my cum?” Choso questions filthy, as if you don’t let him do so almost every time you two have sex.
You’re nodding before the words leave your lips, “Y-Yeahh…”
“Yeah, what?” He smiles briefly, “Say it to me, baby.”
“I… a-aah…” You stammer to get it out due to the way air leaves your lungs as he pistons into your cunt, “W-Want’ you to fill me up, Cho… p-please…”
“You’re so good f’me,” He whispers, “S-So f-fuckin’ good…” He says before leaning in, his pace doesn’t slow. If anything you think it gets faster and you swear your body is trembling in his hold while he pounds his cock into you, “I love you,” Choso says, his body pressing into yours and making him reach deep yet again.
Your jaw goes slack and your eyes roll back, “M-Mhmm…”
Choso starts kissing you. Your lips, your cheeks, your jaw, under your neck, and all over you as ropes and ropes of his seed are fucked into you. Not that his orgasm stops him because he’s still rock hard and still balls deep inside you after the fact.
It’s a creamy white mess as he does so. The lewd sounds get even louder and you’re experiencing another orgasm in sync with him, the sensation throwing you into overstimulation like crazy. Your legs are shaking and your toes are curling.
The deed was so damn messy that your mixed cum was leaking down off his cock, slipping over his balls, and falling to the floor below. It was a sloppy and disgusting mess but Choso was too wrapped up in pounding into you against the wall to care.
He moves his mouth to your ear at some point and whimpers so messily against you. Your cunt clamps around him so tightly at the sudden sound. He’s so whiney after an orgasm, as if he’s not fucking himself into your guts.
“You’re s-squeezin’ me, b-baby,” He breathes out to you, “S-So fu-fuckin’ tiiight… fuuuuuck,” He whines against your ear, his voice echoing through your eardrums and worsening your state.
His needy voice was the complete opposite of how he bullied his stiff cock into your hole, a repetitive slick and plop noise flowing into the sex-induced air.
“Cho-so, r-right… fuck… right t-there-,” You could hardly get it out before he started clobbering his dick into where you wanted him.
Your legs were like jello in his hands, completely going numb to how hard he was going. It was by far the hardest Choso’s ever fucked you and you thrived in every second of it.
He suddenly throws his head back as he beats his tip into you, his cum and your own getting everywhere on the floor below, not that he cared. “Oh god… I wanna’ make you mine, s-s’bad… Wanna’ hear you tell me m’yours all the time…” Choso babbles.
He was beyond drunk off your cunt and his own words riled him up to a new degree.
“Wanna’ fuck you like this every day…” Choso goes on, “S-Shit, you make me feel so good.”
He starts panting and his eyes go teary from a mix of emotions and pleasure before he brings his head into place and meets your gaze.
“I love you so much,” Choso grunts, “Love’ you… Love that look right t-there… L-Love’ this f-fuckin’ pussy,” He groans so loudly that it just thrums against your ears. He’s just rambling at this point, his mind all over the place.
“Choso,” You moan, just barely, your voice fading as pathetic whines leave you.
He shoves every inch in as deep as possible and then presses his entire body up against yours, pushing you even further against the wall and forcing pressure on the bulge of his cock inside you again. Then, he moves his lips to the crown of your ear, “Again, s-say my name again, princess.”
Your cunt flutters around him nearly every time he speaks, “Choso…”
“Look at me,” He orders pulling away slightly so you can do so, “One more time, say it one more time, baby.”
“C-Choso…” You repeat, your voice airy and light.
He nods, “Mhm, keep sayin’ it f’me, jus’ like that…”
You do, feeling as he slides out and proceeds to abuse the insides of your pussy, your walls stretching for his girth and feeling the aggressive but passionate slide of his veiny cock nudging into you. His name leaves your wet lips with every thrust and his eyes refuse to leave yours.
The eye contact was so intense, his heart was pounding against yours and both of your pupils were dilated like crazy. Choso’s lips are parted just like yours, breathy grunts of your name leaving his throat and he fucks you as though he were mad at you.
“F-Fu-uu-uck…” You’d stutter out in between his pounding. The man had your pussy dripping and drooling with liquids, all of which just slid onto him and down his legs.
He liked the feeling too, that slight tickle of your cum trickling down his muscular thighs while he rutted into you. “M-Mmgh… Baby,” He groaned, his eyes still locked on yours.
Your gaze was teary from all the pleasure, “H-Hm?”
“It’s all yours,” Choso mumbles. Your brows furrow but he makes up for your confusion and continues, “My cock… It’s all yours… E-Every f-fuckin’ inch… only for you, pretty.” He claims.
You manage a smile, “I k-know,”
He bites his lip briefly, “Do you?” He hushes out.
“Mhmm…” Your heart rate is all over the damn place, “Know’ it’s mine…”
“Yeahh…” He sighs, “S-Say that again, p-please?”
“It’s mine,” You choke in between a moan, “Mmmh… you’re all m-mine…”
Choso nods desperately, “Y-Yeah, I-I am…”
He seems so happy to hear you say that, whether or not you meant it. Hell, the words drove his body crazy and he was emptying another load into you without realizing.
When he does, he breaks away from the eye contact and looks down, “F-Fuuck…”
“Hm?” You hum almost sleepily.
“I c-came inside again, baby…” Despite his worried words, the sight below him makes him shudder. It is a white and creamy mess where the two of you are connected.
As his cock slips out of your twitching cunt, he watches as the liquid oozes out of your hole and onto the floor, biting his lip at the sight, “D-Damn… That’s so… fuck, princess… look at it drip outta’ you…”
You wearily look down and what he’s talking about, just barely feeling the uncomfortable mess leak out of you. “Cho… you gotta’ s-stop cumming inside me…”
He looks at your face and chuckles, “You told me to…”
You pout at how he’s teasingly blaming you, “You wanted to.”
“Needed to.” He corrects.
“Why?”
Choso shrugs, “It feels nice.”
“Mh.” You hum simply in response.
“You feel nice.” The male adds on, tipping his head to the side a little.
“Thanks but…” You smile just barely, “Plan B isn’t a guarantee, y’know…”
“I’m aware.” He replies quickly.
You blink, carefully whispering to him, “Choso…”
“Yes?”
The way he’s looking at you is so loving, his eyes all wide and full of concern as to what your next words will be.
With a sigh, you glance off to the side, “I could get pregnant…”
He nearly said so without a second thought. Was he really about to say that? What the hell is coming over him??
Choso swallows and starts to move his hands as he holds you so that you can wrap your legs around him comfortably. “R-Right… I’ll uh, I’ll start pulling out then…”
“Or…” You bring your eyes to his own, “You could start wearing a condom.”
Choso frowns and moves to rest his head in the crook of your neck, still carrying you up against the wall like you weigh nothing, “And not be able to feel you raw? I’d rather jus’ pull out and cum on you than put rubber in between me ‘nd you.”
“Can you?” You tease.
“Can I what?” He questions innocently.
His breath hits your skin as he speaks and you grin, “Pull out in time?”
“I-I…” Choso nuzzles into your neck and your grin spreads into a smile when he kisses your skin, “Of course I can.”
A simple hum is let out in response and for a while, Choso just holds you with his face buried into you. His body is warm against yours as the rapid beating of his heart is felt against your chest.
He’s just done a lot and slowly, this sense of post-nut clarity just washes over him. Because his face is in your neck, that annoying necklace is brushing over his skin and Choso begins to fall into his thoughts.
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ . . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
Eventually, the male carried you back over to the couch, and at first, he sat with you on top of him, soon moving for the two of you to lay across the couch together. Your naked body lay on top of his and despite the mess, both of you were beyond comfortable this close to each other.
One of his hands rubbed your back as you lay on him, your ear to his chest and his heart beating so steadily against you. Is it weird that you found the sound beautiful? The way it’d thump slightly faster if you moved or how it’d strutter as you let out a soft exhale against his skin.
You liked it. You liked hearing his heart.
“Y’know…” Choso begins suddenly, his deep voice startling you a little, “I wish I confessed earlier.”
You smile a little, “Me too.”
“Would that have made this easier for you?” He asks softly.
“I don’t know…” You voice out honestly, “Maybe. Maybe not… I’m really not sure, Choso.”
You feel him sigh, “Fuck.”
Slowly, you shift so that you can look at him. Choso’s eyes are up on the ceiling and his jaw is clenched.
“What’s wrong?” You murmur curiously.
The man shuts his eyes, “Am I…” He swallows hard, “A-Am I gonna lose you to him?”
Holy shit, that makes your heart throb. He sounds so worried, his tone reminding you of that fateful evening with Gojo in his car…
“I…” You sigh, “I don’t know Choso…”
His eyes remained glued shut, too fearful to open them, “I know I said I don’t care about you and him but… I lied, baby.” Choso admits, his face scrunching up a little, “I don’t wanna’ lose you… A-At least, not to some asshole.”
“Cho, he… he’s not-“
“You told me you hated him,” Choso recalls, his voice softening into something slightly hurt, “Shit, p-princess you told me it wasn’t gonna’ be some kinda’ enemies to lovers thing b-but… that’s what it is now, right?”
“N-No, Choso I don’t love him.”
“Yet,” He adds on, “You don’t love him yet… A-And it’s my fault,” Choso’s falling victim to the negative voices in his head that are currently spewing doubts and insecurities onto him. “I-If I didn’t leave you… I-If I was honest from the beginning and jus’ told you how I felt-“
“Choso it’s not your fault, c’mon, you know it’s not your fault.”
“Feels’ like it, baby. And I’m not trying to make you feel bad so please, don’t. I just…” He frowns, “God, I wish our relationship was normal.”
This conversation is slowly starting to make you feel sad all over again, “It is though, most normal relationships have drama, Cho.”
“Then I wish we could’ve just been lovers from the beginning.”
“Choso-“
“I wish I was enough for you to fall for me and only me-,” He has to shut his mouth quickly to stop himself from choking on emotion.
“I did, Choso.” You whisper honestly, “I did fall for you. I t-tried to tell you earlier, I lo-“
“You don’t, princess. You don’t love me,” Choso cuts off, his tone quiet and barely even there. “I want you to but, your heart is busy now.”
“Busy with what?” You whisper, your voice shaky with emotion, “Choso, I told you before, I want you.”
“Yet you won’t have me.” He argues.
Frustration settles in the gentle air between the two of you.
A sigh escapes your lips, “I’m not ready to.”
“Why? If it’s not because of that guy t-then why?” Choso stammers, refusing to open his eyes for even a second.
“B-Because I… I’m scared?” You hush out in a confused manner, “I d-don’t want to hurt you Choso.”
“What does that mean?” He asks, confused by your words, “How would you hurt me?”
“I…” You wish you could tell him. “I can’t explain that, Cho.”
He scoffs, “Okay.”
“I’m sorry.” You apologize.
“You don’t have to be. It’s okay, really.” Choso hums, “I’ll just… I-I’ll keep waiting.”
Again, his words bring you sadness. You wish you didn’t have to put him through this, “Choso, that’s torture.”
“Then tell me to stop. Tell me to move on and I will… Or, I’ll try.” He claims.
You say nothing to that.
“Exactly,” Choso scoffs a little, “I’ll just wait for you. And whenever you want me, I’m right here.”
“Wouldn’t that mean I’m using you?” You ask.
“Until you tell me you want me to stop waiting, you can come and go as you please.” Choso sighs in response, “I don’t care if you use me, even if it’s just for sex. That’s toxic but if that’s what it takes for you to feel something for me then… so be it.”
You frown, “Choso-“
“I’ll wait.” He whispers, “I’ll wait lifetimes for you to come to me. And don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours about whether or not I mind the wait because, trust me,” Choso’s eyes crack open and they find your gaze, “I don’t mind.”
“B-But-“
“Always will I yearn for you,” He murmurs, “Hell, I don’t even know if that makes sense b-but I mean it.”
You flash a saddened little smile, “I wish I… Choso, I wish this was easier for us.”
“It will be one day… Hopefully,” He comments with an optimistic little shrug.
“Yeah, hopefully.”
“In the meantime,” Choso moves his hand to the back of your head and forces you to lay on his chest again, “Just stay like this with me for a while, please?”
“M’kay…” You sigh, “But uh… what about our mess?”
Choso yawns and his eyes begin to close again, “I’ll clean it later…” He mumbles tiredly.
You shift and look up at him again, “Cho…?”
“Hm?”
“You’re falling asleep.”
“I know…”
“I can clean it,” You result in saying as you try to move.
Choso’s arms wrap around your body and he prevents you from moving at all, “No.” He utters, “S-Stay with me, princess. Jus’ for a little longer…”
His words sound so stressed and tired that you can’t help but relax into his touch like he wants you to. There’s so much to sort out within your mind.
Maybe…
Maybe you just need a break. Yeah, a break from both guys and the list in general.
You chuckle slightly at the thought. A break sounds like freedom. It sounds like peace. And oh how you crave tranquility…
Yeah, you think that’s what you’ll do.
You’ll just… take a break.
GOJO SATORU ✔︎
𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
GETO SUGURU ✔︎
𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎
𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢
KAMO CHOSO ✔︎
𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎
𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎
𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???
NANAMI KENTO ☐
𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙
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⊹ ﹒ ❝ a losers secret ⠀⊹⠀˚⠀ ౨ৎ
𝜗𝜚 ┈ loser!scara x shy!fem!reader ㅤ ✦
𝐈. ──ㅤ youre the good and shy girl of the school, everyone knows you and everyone likes you, you consider everyone a friend, even the loser that sits in the back of the class. but what happens if you, the most well-liked good girl, gets paired up with the most hated loser in school ?
𝐈𝐈. ──ㅤ mentions of fingering , overstimulation , cream pie , raw sex , mentions of markings , little bits of degradation 'n praise, reader is very shy and gets nervous easily , reader is inexperienced , reader is innocent , breeding kink , && corruption kink .
𝐈𝐈𝐈. ──ㅤ nsfw , smut , english is not my first language, please forgive me , proofread , fluffy yet suggestive ending .
﹒ thoughts ; hope u guys enjoy this ,, its been months since i was active here and im trying to get back here because ive been starving yall </3 . btw , reqs are open ! feel free to req anything . :) what do we think of new theme tho? it keeps changing 😭 .. and ngl this fic kinda sucks. ☹️☹️ but yeah i hope u guys still like this even if it’s horrible!
> story right under the cut <
SCARAMOUCHE is the typical loner you’d see in your class, black jacket with the hoodie over his head, headphones on, is at the back of the class, and much more. there were rumors that he murdered someone, that he does drugs, and the list goes on. no one likes him—in fact, everyone hates him.. almost everyone hates him.
for your english project, you got paired up with scaramouche. after the teacher announced who would be paired with who, everyone in your class came up to you, telling you how much sympathy they have for you, that how sorry they are for you, and telling you ‘good luck with dealing with him’.
you were confused, what was so bad about scaramouche? sure there were rumors, but if they don’t evidence that they did those stuff, you have no reason to believe in the rumors. you felt so bad for him, he already had no one by his side, and the entire school hates him.
you went up to scaramouche, he immediately notices your presence and looks up at you with an indifferent expression on his face, yet he looked awfully tired.. he took off his headphones and he stared to speak,
“what? here to bully me for having no friends?” you hear him scoff, a frown plays on his lips as he brings his gaze to the floor.
hearing his words made you protest, you would never bully anyone, or even hurt a fly !
“n-no! of course not..” you stammered.
you fiddle with your fingers in nervousness. you always get nervous whenever you talk to new people or when people assume things about you, a slight blush creeps up your cheeks as you think about his words.
the indifference immediately leaves scaramouche’s face once he notices your blushing. he stares at you for a moment before a huge smirk appears on his face.
“ah, so you’re not like all the others?” scaramouche tilts his head back and chuckles.
“huh..?”
you take a seat next to scaramouche’s chair and you bring it closer to him.
“what do you mean by that..?”
“everyone else treats me like i’m sort of monster or freak. you, however, seem different from everyone.”scaramouche leans back in his chair.
“well, you don’t seem like a freak or a monster..”
you were growing increasingly nervous, and as an attempt to calm yourself down, you look down to your lap to hide your nervous and red face and grip the hem of your skirt. you never thought someone would assume you’d bully them— let alone think that you think of them as a freak or a monster!
you can’t help but notice that scaramouche’s eyes trail down to your legs. it’s quite unnerving, and your short skirt doesn’t help much with that either.
as a way to snap out of his thoughts, scaramouche shakes his head and sighs.
“are you just saying that to be nice? what about me isn’t freaky?”
“u-uhm… you seem like a normal person. you look.. um.. cool too..?”
scaramouche looks back at you and raises his eyebrows.
“oh yeah? you think I’m cool?”
you notice him shifting slightly, leaning toward you.
“then, you surely don’t mind me getting closer, right?”
your blush gets heavier the moment you feel scaramouche leaning in closer to you.
“no… not at all.”
scaramouche grins at your response and scoots even closer to you.
“then is it okay if…” he trails off, and his voice gets husky as he leans in. you feel something touch your leg, you look over to see his hand resting on your thigh.
“i suppose so..”
scaramouche’s eyes light up after hearing you agree. you could feel him plant his lips on your neck; a few gentle kisses on your skin.
“how about if i…” scaramouche places a finger along the hem of your short skirt.
a small whimper escapes your lips, you don’t know how to feel about being this close this to someone, you had never been this close or intimate with anyone.
“is it alright for me to… lift your skirt up?”
your eyes widened, you weren’t sure how you’d respond to that, but, if you were going to be honest, scaramouche was making you feel hot down there..
his words made you feel tingly and horny, but his gaze was what was making your panties damp and wet.
“can we.. go to a private room first?”
…who knew it was so easy for you to fall right into scaramouche’s trap?
after successfully making the teacher believe that scaramouche he was taking you to the clinic, he brought you to his dorm, and next, to his bedroom.
SCARAMOUCHE had you on a tight mating press, your clothes on the floor with bits of your orgasm stained onto it. (it got to your clothes because scaramouche had fingered you until you squirted all over the place.)
how could scaramouche have resisted himself? you looked so innocent, and so corruptible, he just had to get his hands on you.
scaramouche groans as he feels your walls clamping down on him for the ‘nth time. it was a sign you were about to have another orgasm, another sign was when your moans get higher-pitched.
the feeling of scaramouche’s cock mercilessly ramming into you was agonizingly pleasurable. you couldn’t think of anything else but him and his cock, your body couldn’t help but just have orgasm after orgasm.
you held tightly onto his shoulders, clinging onto him as if your life had depended on it. scaramouche’s dick was bruising your cervix, fucking you into the mattress, and possibly trying to fuck your brains out.
“does it feel nice being reduced to nothing but a whore?”
scaramouche grabs a handful of your hair, staring at your messy and slutty state. the way you looked so disheveled, the way you were gasping for breath, the way you gave up trying to keep up with scaramouche’s quick and brutal pace.
you looked so helpless and vulnerable under him, his cock ramming into you and you have no choice but to take it like the good girl you are.
“answer me, you whore.”
scaramouche speaks to you with a stern voice, in which you immediately nod your head.
he smirks, letting go of your hair. he speeds up his thrusting, bringing one of his hands down from your waist to your clit, rubbing slow circles on it. you felt the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter until,
finally, with just one more snap of scaramouche’s hips, you both reach your intense climax and cum together.
scaramouche continues to sloppily thrust into you, however, it’s much much slower, he continues to thrust until he comes into a full stop.
“oh fuck, you felt so good..”
you both lay there panting, with scaramouche still on top of you. he stares at all the hickeys and bite marks he left on your neck (he also left a lot on your thighs.), feeling proud he had his markings left on you.
“scara..?”
scaramouche snaps out of the daze he was in while he was staring at the markings he left on you—he immediately looks up at you and responds back.
“what is it?”
“can we do things like this… more often?..”
scaramouche chuckles, finding your shyness even after all the rough sex you two just had adorable.
“hmm.. sure.”
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Don’t make me pull over or I’ll fuck you till you can’t speak.” With Lewis ppppllllleeeeaaaassseee
✩₊˚.🤎⋆☾⋆⁺₊🪵✧
“Don’t make me pull over or I’ll fuck you till you can’t speak.” Lewis’ grip on my thigh became tighter, trying to emit some kind of pain but my core only grew wetter.
“Don’t you think that’s what I’m trying to do?” I started holding his arm, my actions seemingly innocent but we both knew exactly what they exuded. “You never know when to stop, do you?” Lewis sighs, speeding up and driving through unfamiliar roads before finding a secluded place. Getting out of the car and striding to my door. Lewis opens it and pulls me out, throwing me over his shoulder and walking back to the front.
“Gonna act like a brat, you’re gonna get treated like one. One of his large tattooed hands running up and down the back of my thighs. Fingers painfully teasing me, just until Lewis drops me back down to my feet. Turning me around so I don’t face him, but the hood of the car. Sliding his hand up my back and then pushing my body down. Making me reach out and hold the car to keep me up.
“Spread your legs for me.” Lewis commands, his words controlling me like a puppet and making me do exactly as he says.
His hands came to my hips to remove my skirt, easily letting it drop on the floor, my panties following suit. “So fucking pretty like this.” Lewis lays each of his calloused palms against my ass, rubbing them around before falling to the front of my hips and pushing me back. Forcing his erection against my ass.
“Was this what you wanted?” Lewis asks, waiting for the nod of my head before pulling away and filling me with anticipation because of the loud ruffling of his pants. Clearly sharing that anticipation as Lewis begins to align his dick with my entrance. Giving me a mere second before thrusting in. My straight arms already shaking and bending as he moves my whole body. Ramming in me so vigorously that the slaps of our skin dominated the loud cars and people streets away.
Every vein that ran along Lewis’s dick, was memorised but always still took my breath away as it stretched my walls. Little grunts and pleasurable moans left the gorgeous man's lips. Holding onto my hips and intensifying each thrust with the way his hand would slip to my front and grasp onto my breasts.
Taking away my sanity as he treats me like a doll, something to play with however you like. Whether it was with care, or recklessly, but this time it’s with no mercy. The tip of his dick pressing against my g-spot and pushing each whine out of my mouth. A helpless moan fleeing my lips when his hand reaches up further to wrap around my neck. Bringing me back to every other time his hand would make me see stars from being inside of me or out.
Lewis uses my clit with his free hand, flicking, rubbing and squeezing it with his fingers.
My legs started to give out and shake, trying to silently plead him to rest. But I couldn’t stop Lewis, he liked things his way… until it came to me. But as he encouraged the way my legs quivered under each ram of his cock and flick of his fingers– I realised his weakness wouldn’t work just yet.
Fucking me dumb, and toward my climax. My stomach tensing as the coil becomes tighter and it makes the moans leave my mouth involuntarily.
Body trembling as I ultimately release, still attempting to keep myself up while Lewis still thrusts in me like we just started. Hips snapping against my ass, with the compliments of our pornographic moans become a sinful sound that I’ve grown accustomed to.
The top half of my body drops against the car, feeling the smallest bit of relief. A tired smile also growing on my lips as Lewis’s dick starts twitching. Not being able to handle it anymore and releasing. Staining my walls with his hot cum, and turning each dirty thrust even more unholy.
“This what you wanted?”
“Y-yes.”
“Still can speak huh? I guess we’re going again.”
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Secret Cove (Part 1)
Neteyam X Metkayina (oldest daughter of Tonowari, the chief)
Takes place before the last battle in AWOW
Neteyam is 18
Contains: alcohol and angst
“Let him go, Neteyam,” I say as Neteyam calls after his brother, angry lines creasing his forehead. Lo’ak’s retreating back glistens as he dives in the water. My little sister, Tsireya, dives in after him, a playful smile on her lips.
“Argh!” Neteyam growls. He whips around in annoyance and leans over the edge of the Mauri pod. He makes a clicking sound, calling for an ilu. He’s been so stressed lately; we both have. It’s hard being the oldest ones in our families.
But I’m tired of it. My eyes harden before I reach out and grab his arm. “Neteyam, please.”
An ilu swims to the surface clicking happily as Neteyam stiffens. The warmth of his bicep seeps into my hand. I rub his arm softly, trying to calm him.
“Lo’ak can’t get in trouble again. My dad—” he sighs, “He is my responsibility. If something happens to him…”
I pull my hand back. Neteyam’s shoulders are tense. His eyes dart across the water nervously as he unconsciously picks at his fingers. He needs to relax. A smirk grows across my lips. I know just what to do tonight.
“Come on.” I grab his hand before he has a chance to protest.
I yank him to his feet. He stumbles forward slightly, surprise flashing in his eyes. I grin at him before taking off through the village with his hand in mine. We’ve never held hands before. While we’ve grown close during his time here, we mostly just follow the rules. I’ve taught him how to hold his breath and to fish. Sometimes I’d catch him staring at me. Or other times, I’d hear him telling Lo’ak to stop teasing him about me. We often shared glimpses of annoyance, when our younger siblings did things they shouldn’t. We shared the same kind of burden. Understanding passes easily between us. Understanding and the shimmers of something else.
Now, it’s nearly eclipse and Neteyam’s hand is warm in mine. People are returning to their homes. I run quickly between different pods, the wooden floor bouncing beneath my feet. I duck under a woman carrying a tray of fish and spears.
“Woah!” Neteyam cries behind me as he ducks just before the sharp head of the spear can cut him.
“Children!” The woman scolds.
I laugh as I continue down the village, heading for the beach. I don’t need to turn around to know that Neteyam is shaking his head. I don’t need to turn around to know that he’s also wearing a small smile. He grips my hand tighter.
It’s dark when we step onto the beach. The ocean creatures glow beneath the smooth waves and the palm trees blow in the sweet breeze. I close my eyes and inhale the scent of my home. I refuse to feel trapped, not to tonight. Neyetam shakes his hand that’s intertwined with mine.
“What are we doin’?” He asks playfully.
I open my eyes. He’s watching me. His eyes are bright with interest but there is something hesitant in the set off his mouth. Like he wants to let go but is too afraid. Time for him to learn, time for us both to. I let go of his hand. Hurt flashes in his eyes but he conceals it quickly. He begins to stiffen like a soldier returning to his post.
“Follow me and find out.” I wink at him before sprinting down the beach. Neteyam’s mouth falls open as he looks around incredulously.
“Try and keep up, treehugger,” I yell behind me. I run right down to the surf and dive into the small waves. The ocean envelopes me. It’s warm against my skin as I swim away from the village.
Neteyam dives in behind me, his entrance making small ripples along the surface. I pause after a few moments of swimming to make sure he hasn’t fallen behind— but he isn’t there. I freeze. My heart begins to pound. This was a bad idea. I swim back to where we dove in, paddling frantically.
I look all around me but there is nothing but fish and coral. I shouldn’t have done this, what was I thinking? I start to swim up to the surface, ready to call for help, when something grabs my ankle. I scream, letting out a bubble of air. Neteyam grins up at me from the darkness of the water. I kick at him causing him to laugh before releasing me. Relief floods through me as I swim up to the surface, followed by Neteyam. The second I hit the surface, I’m no longer relieved; just irritated.
“You skxawng!” I splash him. His face glows beneath the dark sky as he smiles at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t believe you,” I hiss and splash him again. I splash with all my might, sending water right into his nose and mouth.
“Okay, okay!” He says between bouts of ocean water hitting his face. He reaches out and grabs my waist. I stop splashing the second his long fingers sprawl across my skin. I don’t fight against him, I don’t move at all as he pulls me closer to him. My heart begins to pound. Our faces are nearly touching. He leans in, I begin to close my eyes when I realize he’s leaning towards my ear.
“Where are you taking me?” His hot breath hits the side of my neck.
A shudder runs through my body, I try to conceal it to no avail. He sees right through me. A smirk grows on his lips. I shove him, snapping back to my senses.
“It’s a surprise, forest boy.” I dive back beneath water and swim quickly toward the underwater cove. The cove belongs to my mother, or at least it’s her that found it. We occasionally have family meetings there, when we want to discuss things that we don’t want others to hear. But mostly, my parents and their peers use it when they want to do things and don’t want the children to see.
From the outside, the cove is just a large circular rock, tucked between colorful coral reefs. I swim towards it, dive deeper, and swim up under the rock. Blackness covers my vision for a moment before I break the surface. The water is still and warm inside the cove. A soft glow comes from the ceiling and spreads throughout the enclosure, like a starry sky.
Neteyam pops up beside me, gasping for a breath. He looks around quickly as though to survey where his new surroundings are and if there’s any danger. I raise an eyebrow at his apprehensive face.
“It’s just us here, warrior.”
He gives me a look before observing his surroundings more peacefully. His mouth opens slightly in awe as his cute eyes grow wide. “What is this place?”
“It’s my parents underwater cove,” I reply and begin to swim towards the small rocks that run along the small enclosure. “More like their hideout.”
“Hideout?” Neteyam questions as he paddles after me.
I pull myself out of the water and squeeze my hair, causing water droplets to drip down. I can feel Neteyam’s eyes on me. His gaze burns into my back as heat creeps onto my cheeks.
He jumps out of the water and settles down on a nearby rock. “Why would your parents need a hideout?”
I turn around to find him staring at me. His playful demeanor from earlier is fading. His flushed face is turning from lighthearted to nervous. “Look, I can’t get in trouble,” he says. He starts to get up as though he’s going to leave. I quickly walk over and push him back onto the rock.
He looks at me with raised eyebrows. “I’m serious—”
“No, I’m serious,” I interrupt. “You need to relax. You don’t have to be perfect all the time. We don’t have to be.”
“Tell that to our parents,” he mumbles under his breath.
I slip my hand under his chin and force his eyes to meet mine. I’ve never done anything like this before. My hand trembles slightly against his smooth skin. He blinks slowly, his gaze steady as he watches my face. “So,” he begins softly. “How am I supposed to relax?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” I whisper back. I pull away from him and turn towards the wall of the cove. It’s damp and cool as I place my hand on it. I push in harshly three times until a little compartment shoots out of the wall. I turn towards Neteyam with a smirk. He cocks his head to the side.
I wrap my fingers around a wooden bottle and lift it up. “Drink, anyone?”
Neteyam’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “No, I can’t.”
I ignore his protest and walk calmly over to him. I sit beside him, the wet rock rubs my thighs. I lift the bottle to my lips and take a long sip. The alcohol burns as it goes down my throat. It’s a Metkayinan drink, made for adults, and special occasions. I’ve only ever had sips before, from my mother at celebrations or by Aonoug sneaking some for us. But tonight, I feel like breaking free. I’m going to make tonight a celebration in itself.
Neteyam watches me carefully as he chews absentmindedly on his lip. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Aren’t you tired of it?”
He doesn’t respond so I continue on. “Aren’t you tired of watching Lo’ak have all the fun while you clean up his messes?”
I take another sip of the bottle, taking my time, letting it sear against my throat and warm my stomach. “I know I’m tired of being the oldest, the most responsible.”
Neteyam reaches out and yanks the bottle from my grasp. He shoves it to his lips and swallows. He pulls it away and coughs before drinking more. I raise an eyebrow. Alcohol drips down his chin and onto his muscular chest. Damn, he’s hot.
He stops drinking, the bottle shaking slightly in his hand. He blinks a few times and looks at me. “Yea. I’m fucking tired of it.”
“Pass the bottle then.”
He obliges and I take another drink. We continue like this for a while, passing the drink between us, letting the alcohol drown out our thoughts. We don’t speak but it isn’t awkward, there’s a sort of peace between us as we listen to the sounds of the ocean, feeling completely isolated in our own little world.
I’m starting to feel a little dizzy. Warmth spreads through my entire body, and I can’t stop smiling, especially when I look at Neteyam. I think he feels the same way because he is swaying slightly and giggles each time I catch him staring at me.
“What are you laughing at?” I ask after he laughed another time.
He smiles, a small, sweet smile. “I’m,” he begins before looking up at the glowing roof. “It’s so beautiful here.” He looks down at his hands before meeting my eyes. “And I’m here with you.”
“And that’s funny?”
“No. It’s, I just, I didn’t expect this,” he stutters.
My stomach churns nervously. “Are you okay with being here?”
Alarm flares in his tipsy eyes. “Yes!” He scrambles off his rock and slides onto mine. The warmth of his body spreads through mine as our legs touch. He looks down at me, his face inches from mine. I turn my head, suddenly too nervous to meet his gaze. “I really like being around you,” he says, the smell of alcohol drifting off his breath.
“You’re drunk,” I reply, trying to act like his closeness doesn’t affect me. Like it doesn’t make me want to wrap my arms around him and press my lip— no. I’m fine.
He rolls his eyes dramatically. “You’re drunk too.” He pokes my side.
“Hey!” I try to swat his hand away but he turns his fingers around and wraps them around mine. My breath hitches in my throat as he slowly intertwines his fingers with mine. I look at his deep eyes; our stares cut into each other. There’s the fierceness in his eyes and the tenderness that he always has. But there’s also an undercurrent to his stare, one I’ve never seen before, one that burns, and makes my heart pound. My body feels alive in a way I’ve never felt before.
Neteyam’s breath comes out quickly and shakily. His hands tremble in my grasp but he doesn’t let go. I inch closer to him. My skin feels like it’s on fire, there’s a burning hole in my stomach. I want to get close to him. I want to feel his skin beneath my fingertips. I want to entangle my hands in his hair.
“Neteyam,” I breathe. I’ve never heard my voice sound like that. Raspy and— full of desire.
He groans slightly and leans his forehead against mine. “I mean it.”
I pull back, my whole body protests the movement. “What?”
“I meant what I said.” His eyes drink in my face. They trace every inch of it. “I like how you make me feel.” He brings his fingers to my face. He caresses my cheek, holding me gently, as if I were the most delicate, precious thing in the world. “Understood, safe, and free.”
My face breaks into a smile so wide it hurts my cheeks. “You make me feel that way too,” I whisper.
He smiles back at me, a relieved smile, as though he didn’t know I felt that way. How couldn’t he have known? His fingers trace my jawline, his eyes never leaving mine. I reach my hands up and place them on his shoulders. He shudders at their touch. The pit in my stomach grows. I move my hands along his chest, letting them roam as though they have a mind of their own.
His grip on my jaw tightens as he leans towards me. I meet him halfway, our lips brush against each other. He kisses me tentatively as he spreads his long fingers along the side of my face. His lips are soft. He is kind and good, and I adore him. I grip his shoulders. But I also want him, with a kind of want I’ve never felt before. I pull myself into his lap and wrap my legs around his back.
He jolts slightly at my sudden movement before using his other hand to hold my legs in place. I pull my lips away from his and place them on his cheek, then his jaw, and onto his neck. I kiss softly before sucking on his damp skin. He groans beneath me as his grip on my legs tightens. I leave a trail of kisses along his neck, taking my sweet time, listening to the soft moans he tries to hide.
Suddenly, he yanks my face up and kisses me, hard. His mouth is frantic, his lips collide with mine with a newfound urgency. His hand leaves my face and makes its way down my back. I kiss him back, tasting alcohol and salt water. He bites my lip and pulls it between his teeth. I moan before meeting his lips again. I entangle my fingers in his hair, pulling softly against his braids. A groan escapes from the back of the throat as we kiss. I smirk against his lips.
His hands continue to roam from my back to my waist and my stomach. They continue downward before stopping. I pull back and look at him. Our breaths come out heavily, mixing together in the small space between us. Desire burns in my stomach causing my body to throb. “Neteyam,” I whisper. “It’s okay.”
He shakes his head slowly. “No.”
He moves his hands from me. I go rigid on top of him. Does he regret this? The desire that was running through me runs cold. I move to get off him when he grabs my wrist.
“I want to kiss you for as long as I can,” he says. “But I won’t do more. Not now. You deserve more than something like this.” He motions to their surroundings and the empty bottle beside them.
I nod, feeling light headed. He leans forward and kisses my cheek before whispering, “Where were we?”
* I’m thinking about adding another part where Aonug catches them and then drama ensues when their parents find out. Would anyone want to read that? PART 2 IS UP!
*Also, this is my second fanfic so please leave me feedback and let me know if anyone wants to be friends!
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How To Adapt To Fire (II)
AU MASTERLIST || PART III
PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader
WORDCOUNT: 5.6k
WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, death/gore, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, pining, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, fade-to-black, nudity, suggestive descriptions, dirty jokes, etc.
A/N: Taglist is full.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
Johnny watches you slap another news clipping to the board he’d bought you for thirty-two dollars and twenty-three cents, tired eyes blinking slowly. Standing in his apartment’s living room in his boxers and an oversized shirt, he’d woken up to the sound of muttering, and it had been just that for the last week.
When he’d allowed you to live in his spare room until you could find a new apartment building to call your own, he didn’t expect you there to be so much grumbling. Like a little bug in his ear—not that he minded all that much. At least, if you were that bug.
“I feel like I’m losing my mind,” you groan, running a hand down your face. “How did he find me? How did he know I already knew so much about the case?”
He, the arsonist.
Your entire building had been a total loss—and, sure enough, the lock had been busted off of your apartment door just like the scene of the fires that resulted in casualties. You had been targeted, and it wasn’t just an accident. There was intent there; a threat.
Stay away from me, or else.
Johnny had sighed long when he read that in the report he’d gotten his hands on—there was no way in hell anything was stopping you except…well, except yourself.
While he had envisioned one day potentially asking you to move in with him, he hadn’t expected that to happen so soon. Certainly not before the first fucking date. He hadn’t even gained the courage to ask you out yet, and here you were—pajama pants polling at your ankles and Johnny’s baggy sweatshirt loose around your shoulders. The Scot stands with the heat of sleep and attraction on his skin.
He tried not to stare, really he did, but the way you looked in his clothes was too much of a distraction for his own good.
The man clears his throat, face burning.
“I’m beggin’ you to give it a rest, Dearie. At least five minutes.” Johnny sighs. “It’s not healthy.”
He doesn’t think he’s seen you shed a tear over your apartment—about your belongings. In reality, he was taken aback by it. Soap wouldn’t have blamed you at all…but you just seemed angry. It worried him, but the emotion was well within your right to hold. Just as it was within his right to try and keep you from rushing into danger.
“Not now,” you grumble. “Not until I know how he found out my room number.”
“You aren’t exactly unknown.” The fireman walks closer to your standing form, hand moving up to scratch at his back as he gunts. “Mostly everyone who would care to look into your career knows about you. It wouldn’t be hard.”
Johnny moves his vision over the board, pausing before he licks his lips.
“...They’ll be needing me in today, Hen,” he breathes.
Your lips tighten, and you glance over quickly to find blue eyes already looking. Snapping your attention back to the board, you push back against the burn of your face.
“It’s your job, I’m not going to tell you not to go in.”
“If you need me here, then I can—”
“John,” you interrupt, shaking your head with a heavy frown and turning his way. “No way. Go in.”
Johnny’s serious face doesn’t lessen, and you’re struck with how often those lines on his face are becoming commonplace.
You wouldn’t say that you were taking this well.
Forcing yourself to work; making your mind push back at the deep pit that seemed to be growing. Everything you’d worked for—everything you’d had. Gone. Up in smoke.
Two people had died in that inferno, and you can’t help but put that on yourself.
Fingers going up to tap at your chin, your attention goes back to the board, the heavy weight of bags under your eyes from lack of sleep. You’d tried to re-write what you had in your notes as well as you were able, but there had been a reason for making a physical board in the first place.
Johnny watches you, his brows tight and his fingers twitching. Sighing, he fixes his feet and lightly places a hand on the back of your spine, blinking quickly your eyes dart over before the tension begins to bleed from your muscles.
Your gaze begins to soften, but your voice is still a light firmness. “Stop that.”
The man blinks. “Stop what?”
“Stop being all…” You huff, sagging into his hand. “You.”
Johnny pushes a chuckle, shifting to stare at you fully and letting the smirk move over his lips. His fingers move along your back, rubbing tiny circles as the room goes airy—how quick it was that you could fall into this sense of attachment. To anyone outside of the apartment, it would seem the two of you were in a strange relationship, and that would be true to some extent.
Your face heats up, and Johnny’s large palm flattens. He moves and presses his nose into your hair.
“Now what’s that supposed to mean, then?” He grunts, and you can feel his flickering smirk as clear as day.
Leaning over into him, you sigh, glaring at the board as your heart patters.
“It means you’re distracting me.”
Johnny hums, thumb moving up and down over the knob of your spine. “Talk to me,” he mutters. “Let me help, aye?” He blinks slowly, face hot and his lungs palpitating in his chest. The man cared about you so much��his heart ached for what you’d been put through. Losing a home like that.
Your lashes flutter, a near purr emitting from your throat at the hypnotic movements of Johnny’s grip. Like a damn harpy, he was digging his claws into you; it had been happening for months. Of course, you’d let him touch you—how could you not? Even his sense of courage and justice was something that let you know his character, his honor.
This case was just as important to him as it was to you.
“Go,” you mutter, shifting your head so that you can stare at him. Johnny’s visage pulls back, his stubble moving with the worried angle of his lips; his skull tilts, almost like a dog cocking its snout. “We can figure something out later—if I get you fired I’d finally gain a conscious.”
Johnny sighs, looking you up and down. “...I’ll be making dinner tonight. Just,” he breathes, and as his hand leaves you, your body fights the instinct to shiver. “Wait for me, Bonnie.”
You take in the closeness between the two of you—how your bodies melt into one another as if on instinct. Something was startling about how easy it was to live in the same apartment as Johnny. It had almost been too easy. Sharing food, blankets, and looks.
Your eyes follow after Soap as he brushes your cheek with the back of his hand before turning and walking back to his room, bare feet padding over the floor. His legs move, small burns and scars all over before your vision travels up the broadness of his back; the stretch of his arms as he brings them up with a groan to itch at his head.
Licking your lips, the sight is enough to quiet your mind. Seeing how, like water, his clothes morph into the swell of his thighs and the…your face bursts into fire, and your head snaps away.
Clearing your throat, you blink quickly and try to re-focus on your board of suspects.
—
Johnny tightens the belt over his waist, huffing softly as he walks into the fire department’s bay door—passing the red trucks and patting the dogs as they come up to mob him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, the clicking of little claws tapping over the concrete floors and the panting of hot breath. “Good to see you too, little rascals.”
The fireman looks around the area, seeing some of the boys mulling about doing repairs or fixing up the slight mess. Johnny motions a hand when he’s greeted, and before long he’s entering the main hub of where he wants to go—the kitchen.
Grabbing a cup, the Scot’s intention is to get some water before settling into his desk and diving into something that can take his mind off the woman living in his apartment. Licking his lips, Johnny gets momentarily lost in the remembrance of your skin—your determination.
He’s angry. Angry that someone’s done this to you; had disrupted your life so violently. A question was stuck swirling in his head as he began hearing the murmuring from the walk-in pantry.
What would have happened if you hadn’t been with him that morning?
“What do you mean ‘that was you?’” Johnny’s fingers freeze around the rim of a glass, blinking into his own smaller reflection. Brows furrowing, the Scot’s head swivels to the kitchen pantry and the barely cracked open door and the voice that emanates from it.
For some reason, the stagnant air after that sentence makes Johnny’s spine straighten. Blue eyes stare blankly, and fingers twitch as the same voice starts again.
“I thought you said it was over?! That the last one was,” a strangled word, a fast inhale. “We had a fucking deal.”
Heart slow in his chest, Soap stares the longer this seemingly one-sided conversation goes on. There was something off—the words seemed hurried; panicked, even. It wasn’t the usual emotions you had when having a talk with someone.
Taking a steady step back, the Scot remembered how fast your pulse had run when he had you at his chest a week ago—the fast slam and the whites of your eyes on full display. Even if you didn’t confess it to him, Johnny knew you’d been afraid of the fire. Fearful. He knew you weren’t sleeping.
Maybe the fireman was being paranoid, but anything that he didn’t understand made his hackles rise like a feral dog—certainly with you, technically, under his watch now. Everyone was a potential threat. Face stiff, Johnny begins walking over to the pantry with nearly silent feet, boots softly flattening to the tile floor.
Stopping outside of the door, his ears hone in.
“This isn’t right! There’s a difference between what you do and what I do! We stuck together, but this is it. I’ve covered for you—I’ve tried to smooth everything out, but this isn’t something that I can look past anymore. She wasn’t even involved yet!”
Johnny’s lips tighten, his eyes burning through the barrier until he lifts his hand and settles it loosely on the doorknob, not pushing even as the thin material shifts minutely. The alarms in his head were going off, and he didn’t like that.
Muscles tight, the Scot moves a bit closer, shoulder just beginning to touch the wood before—
Kurt Matthews, one of the rookie firefighters, shoves himself through.
Johnny strangles a gasp as the two men nearly collide with one another, only shoving out, what he hopes to be, a casual call of, “Hell’s bells. Careful there, Kid.”
The man’s wild eyes lock on him, stumbling back before Soap’s hands move to grasp his arm, a dark phone held lightly in Kurt’s hand. Johnny looks at it silently before he forces a blank chuckle. “Sorry, then. Was going to get some bread—you know how it is, eh?” Kurt looks frazzled, a sheen of sweat over his face; eyes tiny. “The boys never fill up the bread box after they finish a loaf.”
“What?” Matthews quickly mutters, before shaking his head and waving a hand. “Yeah, right, whatever.”
He swiftly moves past the Scot, brushing shoulders. The mohawked man’s nose pulls in, and blue eyes watch the disappearing individual.
Johnny’s throat swallows down saliva.
Kurt Matthews smells like gasoline.
—
You hear the sound of the TV and sniffle, pushing the heels of your hands into your stinging eyes.
It wasn’t a question as to why you had waited until Johnny left to let yourself feel the hopelessness that was sinking into your chest—you were surprised you lasted that long, though. Tiny tears dribble out over your cheeks, but you fight them with a growl.
“Keep it together,” you sigh harshly. “C’mon, keep it together.”
Your heart jerks when the front door of the apartment opens, and you’re quick to stand up from the couch where you had been sitting, clearing your throat as Johnny’s call echoes.
“Just me!”
You divulge immediately into your hurried sentences, waving a hand. The shake in your voice is obvious. “I have some of the names I remember writing down—it isn’t much but I—”
“What happened?” Johnny’s hands capture your face in a swift second; he isn’t even out of his work clothes before he’s over and touching you. It’s like he teleported over at the slightest hint of distress, not even a moment of hesitation. “Whoa, hey, hey,” he breathes a bit slower, softer. “What’s this then, Bonnie?”
Delicate movements of his fingers scrape your flesh, thumb running as blue eyes come into focus. Your lungs tighten up again at the sight of tense worry—Johnny’s face all hard with the lines of his forehead and the narrowing of his eyelids.
“Let me see,” he utters, tilting your head up so the brightness of your eyes is visible to him; the wetness of your flesh. “Hey, now.”
The man’s attention goes up and down on the off chance this is physical pain instead of the internal kind. But he knows better than that. So, Johnny stuffs down the hunch he had about the man in his own ranks and places all of his concern on you and your bitter tears.
Even when you try to grumble his worry away.
“It’s just stupid tears, MacTavish,” your voice cracks as he drags you to him, curling his arm behind the stretch of your shoulder blades in an addictive display that leaves your nose sniffling again. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Quit it,” the Scot pleads. “Jesus, Pencils,” he sighs, arms trapping you in just like before. “Just let me hold you, yeah? I swear, you’ll make my heart burst ‘fore I get you to admit you’re feeling something.”
Your glossy eyes flinch into a weak glare. “I’m not that emotionally constipated, jackass.”
Johnny’s breath moves over your scalp.
“You sure about that?” Your face goes to an annoyed sheen, and from the soft rest of Johnny’s chest, you look over at him. He’s trying a light smirk, but his eyes are still serious.
Letting yourself melt into him, you take in his scent and the heat he offers you, surrounded by the remnants of his life and future—this apartment that offers you a reprieve.
You close your eyes and let your hands shift up to grab at Johnny’s shirt slowly, your heart gradually easing. Unaware of the soft gaze watching every second; his own grip tightening.
“...You’re like a dog,” you whisper, tears drying. “Always running over.” Your pause lays out a beautiful scene. “I like it.”
Johnny’s cheeks flare to a bright red. He clears his throat, glancing away from your face. “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.”
“Hm,” you hum, shrugging and nuzzling your nose into his pulse. You hear it racing. “Up to you, I suppose.”
The man laughs, chest jerking.
The silence that falls after is like a blanket—settling thickly over the space as the last of your sniffles finally halt. You didn’t like crying; not in front of others. It was easier to just push through it, but Johnny’s presence made you soft, at the same time you can’t tell if that’s good or bad. But it did make your fear lessen, and maybe that was something you couldn’t overlook.
You tighten your hold on his waist, and he grunts, glancing down at you as his gut swirls. The man’s half-lidded eyes flutter, fingers flinching along your clothes. The room gets warmer, or maybe it’s just him.
“I guess,” you begin under your breath, voice muffled by his skin. “I could use your help. Officially.”
“Ooo,” the Scot whispers. “‘Officially’—look at that.”
You huff, lips pulling up.
“Well,” the man mutters, chin resting on top of your head as the sun outside begins to dip lower. “‘Officially’ I have some information that my Bonnie little boss might like to hear.”
Your smirk grows wider, your heart hammering faster as your pulse moves with fire.
“Oh?” Your nails drag his sides, and you feel Johnny’s breath hitch, a low purr emanating from his chest.
“Oh, aye,” a hand grips your chin, dragging you back until you’re once more blinking into his gaze head-on. His finger pets your flesh, your breath puffing out as he stares down at you. He swallows down the nervousness in the back of his throat, the urgency that instinct pushes away in this moment of anticipation as he watches your face. “But I’m having a moment, it seems—can’t think straight.”
“Why’s that?” You lick your lips and see cobalt blue follow them.
“Because this Hen in front of me has been a damn tease since I’ve met ‘er.”
Any snappy reply is cut short before it even can fully register in your head, and all thoughts halt the second his firm mouth is on your own.
You gasp, but there isn’t an ounce of yourself that pulls back, not when Johnny’s fingers play at your shirt-hem, or even when your own slide under his clothes. You don’t pull back when they hit the floor—don’t pull back when your bodies follow suit.
A dance of fire and ice moves with the writhing of flesh and the passing of heavy kisses; panting breath. Grunts and groans as if every pass of lips and teeth is a knife into supple skin. Tense legs and flexing arms—dragging fingertips digging into every latchable dip even as the dead of night grows longer.
It’s only after every desire has been satiated that you finally utter about the finer details of this mess.
Johnny’s hands move down your bare back, slipping to grip your waist and drag you into him as you sigh. Your thigh lifts to rest over his hip, leg hanging uselessly over as it brushes the ruffled sheets as lips find your neck, tiny nips and passes of skin mixing as your eyes flutter.
The fireman makes a noise of satisfaction in the back of his throat, hand sliding to hook under your kneecap, caressing.
“So attentive,” you murmur, and your fingers run through his hair, itching at his mohawk as the longer strands slip through. Johnny burrows closer, nose pushing your head upwards as he kisses the space where your neck connects to the underside of your chin.
He chuckles smoothly, stubble scraping along as you shiver at the sensation. The hard press of his pecs shove into you, and you lightly breathe; fingers twitching.
“How are we feeling?” Johnny grunts in between his worship.
“Energized,” you grin, half-closed eyes shimmering.
The man smiles widely, grip sliding downward slowly as he chuckles. “Yeah?”
“Not like that,” you groan, shoving his hand away as he laughs, rolling onto his back and folding his arm over his eyes.
“Ah,” Johnny’s chest jumps with his amusement, itching at his bare abdomen for a moment. “Worth a try, then.”
“Dog,” you roll your eyes. “You’ve had enough of a fill.”
“That’s all up to opinion, Dearie.” He smirks, peeking at you as your face heats up.
Shoving at his shoulder, he laughs again and pushes up, hands melting into the mattress beside your head as he looms above you as a large wall.
“I’ll never have enough of a fill when it comes to you and your wet c-”
You snap a hand to his mouth, covering it as you glare openly, sneering. “Finish that sentence and you’ll never have me in this bed again.”
Johnny’s glinting eyes stare from above your hand, and you feel his smile as clear as day as his face stays stuck close to yours.
A teasing kiss is leveled on your palm and you roll your eyes, pulling away to lightly push at his forehead. The Scot lets you shove at him, and you sit up fully as he grunts and rests his back on the headboard.
Shifting your body, you straddle his lap and grasp his chin.
“A few hours ago,” Johnny’s eyes are blown, and you feel his touch on your hips. He hums in question, barely listening above the squeeze of your legs. “You were going to tell me something—a lead.”
“Was I?” The fireman breathes, licking at your finger as it goes to rest on his bottom lip.
You cock your head with seriousness and a level of amusement in your gaze. “You were. Tell me.”
“You need to work on your pillow talk, Pencils.” Johnny sets a sloppy kiss on your collarbone and sighs.
There’s a moment where you both stare into one another, and the gravity of this begins to set in once more. Carnal desire and feelings aside, there was always an edge to the both of you—this need to be seen through whether for some sense of justice or care.
“Kurt Matthews—rookie fireman,” Johnny grunts, looking away for a quick moment. “Heard him speaking on the phone, got a bad feeling ‘bout it that I can’t place. Might be nothing, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t tell you.”
“Kurt,” you breathe, brows pulling in. There’s a long pause. “Kurt Matthews…that sounds familiar.”
Hopping off Johnny, the man groans softly, a slightly needy look following after as your bare body slips away. He knocks his skull against the headboard, side-eyeing your backside as you hurry off to your board. A light smirk makes itself known before your voice snaps him out of his memories. “Stop looking at my ass, MacTavish!”
His face goes beet red as he grunts, quickly snapping his eyes away.
You wrap yourself into one of the blankets that was on the couch, letting it hang off of your shoulders as you snatch one of the papers on your mess of information.
“A fireman,” you mutter to yourself, finger running down names and brief descriptions. “An inside job? No, that would be…” Your eyes spark to life as Soap shuffles in, running through his hair. “That would be one hell of a story.”
Attention locked in, your eyes instantly stop on your own chicken scratch—the name at the bottom of the page.
Kurt Matthews. Witness to fire on the fifth; one dead.
“Off duty? Or not hired yet?” You ask, lips tightening. “Why was he at the scene? Johnny,” your curious voice calls to him, and he slips up behind you, flattening his front to your back. You lean into him, showing him the paper. “When did he get taken on into the department?”
“Month ago,” Johnny’s face pulls, frowning. A name catches his attention, and he tilts his head. “Why’s Duncan on there?”
Your attention moves to the scribbled title. Johnny continues as you read, your stomach sinking.
Duncan Ballard. Employee of Warren Electrical. No involvement.
You wave a hand. “He has nothing to do with this case. That was back when I was looking into the money laundering—”
“They’re cousins.”
Your body twists, face confused. “What…?”
Johnny blinks, glancing at you and then back to the paper, he vaguely gestures to the two names. “Duncan and Kurt—they’re cousins. Met him at one of the department cookouts. Strange bloke, but I never thought much about it. Just thought he liked the profession a bit because Kurt was getting involved.”
You stare at him, a million thoughts dashing from behind your eyes. “Duncan was the man I interviewed about the Warren Electrical case. He was cleared by the police,” you stutter, looking to the side. “He was the only employee of the company that didn’t confess or implicate someone else. There was no evidence to…”
You trail off before your spine tightens. Your body pushes itself out of Johnny’s hold, rushing to his computer and opening it like a bat out of hell.
“Give me the name of one of the fire victims.”
The Scot watches after, hurriedly forcing out, “Mike Lane.”
An article pops up—one that you hadn’t written but that another journalist had. Warren Electrical Employee Exposes All.
“Another,” you breathe, eyes stuck on the screen.
“Kit Cannon.”
Warren Electrical Employee—
“Johnny, one more.”
“Hadden Taylor.”
Warren Electrical Employee—
Your throat closes for a moment before you force out in the middle of Soap easing out another name, still not sure where you’re going with this. “He’s trying to kill off anyone who snitched.”
Johnny pauses, coming over to look as he thinks—as he looks over the articles you show him with a grim face, he tilts his head.
“Even then, why were you a target? All you did was interview him. And why now?”
“He knows I have all of the resources,” you begin. “If anyone can catch him, it would be me—I interviewed him when he was in temporary custody. It would have seemed like he didn’t have a choice unless he wanted to keep his appearance of innocence.”
Your mind struggles through the potential answers. “But you’re right—why now? Is it because of the trial coming up? And how does this connect with Kurt?”
“He smelled like Gasoline when he walked past me,” Johnny adds, rubbing at his chin; itching at his scar. He spares you a look, mulling over the words that he’d heard in the pantry. “...I think he’s trying to cover his cousin’s crimes with his own. Make it seem like they’re all a part of one damn scheme.”
“He’s the one going for the abandoned buildings,” you agree, nodding a few times, looking over into Johnny’s eyes. “Kurt Matthews and Duncan Ballard. Okay. We have our leads.”
Before the Scot can speak on it, you’re rushing past, grabbing clothes from the floor and shoving them on. His face moves in, confusion overtaking his building shock.
“What are you doing?” You shove into your pants, not sparing a look before you button them.
“Get dressed, we’re going out.”
Johnny’s left in the middle of the room, naked, watching after you with a slack-jawed expression of disbelief.
“...What?”
—
You hang up your phone with one of the many people you know in the city, dropping it to your side as you and the fireman stand in front of your car. You have an address for Kurt’s home—not one for Duncan, but that can happen later. With what Johnny had said not moments before, Matthews was expressing hesitation. Go for the weaker link first.
The streets are lit up. It’s still night out but the long hours are beginning to thin into morning; it can’t be later than three AM. Vehicles rush past, and, occasionally, people walk to wherever they are off to. The city never sleeps, just as you don’t.
“Woah,” Johnny grabs onto you before your hand can latch onto the driver’s seat door. He waves his other hand and stares at you heavily. “We can’t just go into this with our dicks in our hands, Bonnie.”
“Thankfully, I don’t have one of those,” you huff. “That’s why I keep you around.”
“That isn’t,” Johnny sighs aggressively, shaking his head. “I’ll not have you in danger. We need to pass this along the chain.”
“The chain,” you grumble, “hates me. We’re the best bet right now.” Raising a brow you point a finger under his nose. “If I recall, you asked to be involved.”
Johnny frowns heavily, looking unimpressed until he takes a deep breath. He rasps out, “You’re lucky you’re damn near a goddess—”
His phone goes off in his pocket, and not a second later, he’s answering as you mess with your satchel. Taking out a piece of paper, you try not to show how much his little comment made you want to float into the air, giddy, nearly, as you write down Kurt’s address sloppily.
“MacTavish,” Johnny grunts out, turning slightly away.
You open your car door, but a hand moves out and keeps it closed enough to a point where you can’t slip inside, you pout and Johnny raises a brow as he listens. Your eyes notice how his jaw clenches, and he lets off an aggressive sigh like a boar when he registers the words being said from over the line.
Your heart drops when you watch his shoulders sag, hips moving as they situate themselves.
“Right. I’ll be over.” Cobalt eyes snap to yours when the call ends, deathly serious. “One of the boys had to run out tonight during his twenty-four-hour—family emergency. I was on call for him.”
You open your mouth to speak.
“No,” Johnny points at you, digging out his own keys from his pants as he backs up. He shakes his head. “No—you’re not going alone. Don’t even ask it, Pencils.”
Your loud scoff echoes. “I didn’t even mention it!”
“You fucking thought it,” he grunts, glaring. “Get your pretty arse back inside the apartment and we do this together tomorrow.”
“Oh, yes,” you wave a hand, stepping back onto the sidewalk as the Scot moves to his vehicle only two cars down, sarcastically monologuing. “All naked and waiting to be ravished by your brutish body. Whatever will I do without you, my brave firefighter?”
“Don’t tempt me,” Soap mutters to himself, and just as he unlocks his car and opens the door, you’re there at his side. A light kiss is pressed into his flesh, and he freezes.
“Be safe,” you mutter, and he melts—tension loosening. He smirks and glances over, carefully grabbing your face before connecting his lips to yours with a low groan.
“Maybe you should be naked and waiting for me—”
“Go!”
Johnny chuckles against your lips. “Keep your head on for me, Pencils. I’ll be back soon, and we can find the fucker that did this, eh?”
As he gets into his car and drives away, you watch after him and bite at your lips. And then as he turns the street corner, you jog over to your car and slip inside.
—
The home was run down.
It wasn’t a place where you would want to raise a family, and neither was the neighborhood. In fact, barely anyone seemed to live on this street, and even if there were entire rows of houses, there weren’t even any lights on—nothing illuminated the streets except the lamps, and you were parked under one with your satchel in your lap.
Experience didn’t mean you never get nervous.
You feel the clamminess of your palms as you flex them, replaying Johnny’s words in your head over and over. You knew the house was here, so, you could always just…come back later. There was no harm in it.
Yet, your eyes narrow, and your rage builds.
This fucker was related to the man that burned down your apartment building—was potentially covering for him so you wouldn’t break the case on Duncan killing off the snitches for Warren Electrical’s schemes. But all because of an interview with him? All you’d done was sit down with the guy; why did he feel the need to track you down? Breaking into someone's house and lighting it up with matches was personal—incredibly personal.
Duncan had given you a warning to keep away, and you hated warnings with a fiery passion. If anything, it had just set you on his ass more.
“Okay,” you huff, and reach inside of your satchel, flicking on the recorder you stuffed inside and stating your name, age, and important information.
And then you open the car door and exit.
Speed walking to the door, you look down the dark streets and hunch into yourself, the calls of crows and the wind moving the overgrown grass. Cracked concrete hits the ground as you kick pieces away, and at the two steps leading to the front door, you think that perhaps this might be a bad idea.
Bad ideas are what make good articles.
You hum, face innocent. “Johnny’s gonna fucking kill me.”
Knuckles raising, you send three firm knocks into the paint-speckled wood, and wait. And wait.
And wait.
Your face tightens, your legs shifting minutely as the seconds draw long. A part of you is somewhat relieved until you hear a small creak just when you’re about to walk away. You freeze, and your eyes move slowly to the glass of the side window in a gradual glance.
Your eyes lock onto a face staring back.
Gasping, your foot takes a rapid step backward, but before you can rush away, Kurt rips open the door and pleads in a tiny voice as he grabs your arm. You flinch, raising up a heavy fist. But his words stop you from sending it forward.
“No! No, you can’t be here!” Your eyes blink rapidly, stuttering through your initial panic.
“What?”
“Leave!” Kurt snaps, eyes wild. “While he’s still asleep—he can’t see you here or he’ll—” There’s a splash of liquid and you shout. Kurt lets go of you quickly as he looks down at himself as his clothes get flooded from behind.
The sharp smell hits you before your ears twitch to the sound of a lighting match.
Kurt screams, snapping around as you fall backward off the steps, slamming into the ground with a panicked flinching in your lungs. A large shadow stands in the doorway. “I didn’t say anything—I didn’t—!”
Kurt Matthews goes up in flames, and in the fire and the rabid screams of sizzling flesh, you’re left shouting in pure fear. Duncan’s familiar face was illuminated by an orange and red inferno and he watches you blankly with a box of matches in his right hand.
You run off so fast, your heels get kicked off in a flurry of a chase.
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The Quiet Ones 4
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.
Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader
Note: first draft of my final assignment is done, just need to do a few other things for class and I'm pretty much done.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.
Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖
As night falls, you feel woozy. You don’t know how much longer you can hold out. The boxed macaroni and cheese only made your stomach hurt and you’re pretty much out of water. Tomorrow you might just have to venture outside and hope he’s not around. Somehow, you don’t think he’s ever gone. He seems to always be watching.
You can’t focus on your book. The edges of your vision are hazy and your head is pounding. You close it and look for something to watch. You just as quickly forget what you’re doing and shut off the television. You’re too weak to make it to the bed. You're tired, you just want to sleep.
You look at the window before you lay down, then glance down. The light isn’t there yet. Its absence unsettles you. You wouldn’t exactly prefer it was but it not being there makes you wonder if something else is coming.
You’re too exhausted to worry about it. You close your eyes as you lay flat on the couch. You exhale and let your body relax. The tension is as tiring as anything else. You’re always wound up tight, always waiting, always watching. You just don’t have anything left in you.
That familiar drifting sensation takes over you. Your eyelids itch and your muscles grow heavy. You slip into your unconscious little by little until your shrouded in a deep unbreakable darkness. You’re not scared or frustrated or happy or sad. You’re just tired.
The shatter of glasses splices through your momentary escape. You groan as you eyes snap open and you lay in the dimness of your apartment. What happened? The light was on when you passed out. What was that noise?
You push yourself up to your elbows and look at the window. There’s not green light but something worse. The window is broken. The jagged glass shines with moonlight as shards litter the floor. You sit up all the way and scramble around, unable to make sense through the darkness and your own sluggish perception.
You reach for the lamp and try to turn it on. On, off, on, off. You shake your head, trying to free yourself from the clouds, and stagger to your feet. You go to the wall and flip the switch for the overhead light. Nothing. The power must be out. You can’t even hear the hum of the fridge.
A tickle crawls into your throat and you cough. You smell smoke. You go to your desk and feel around for your phone. You wait for it to turn on as the dryness in your nose and throat build. You finally get the flashlight glowing on your cell and shine it around the room.
The haze isn’t in your mind. The apartment is filling with smoke. You pull your shirt up over your nose and cough again. Your eyes burn as you try to see through the fog. There’s a dark shape on the carpet spewing fumes. What the heck?
Adrenaline kicks in and instinct has you feet moving before you can think. You can’t breath. The smoke gets thicker as your eyes stream and you rack with coughs. You hit the door with your body, clawing at the lock, fingers aching as you twist back the latch. You waver as you step back, pulling the door inward and stumble into the hall.
Your feet hit the floor clumsily, flat and thumping, thunderous in the hue of night. You hack again, hand on your chest, and tumble to your knees. You grip your head as the strength drains from your body, seeping away little by little. Are you dying? Is this it?
You fall onto your side and suck in deep breaths. Your head lolls and your arm falls slack beside you. Your eyes roll up and a black silhouette appears above you. A tongue clicks and a whistle blows out.
“I didn’t want it to be like this, baby cakes,” the timbre skews in your ears as your lashes close, “don’t worry...” the world shifts beneath you, “daddy’s got you.”
👄
You don’t dream. You don’t think. You don’t feel. There is only endless black.
A sliver of light pierces the void. It's too bright. Painfully so. Your eyes slit and you peek out from beneath heavy eyelids. You don’t recognise those walls, the bed is too soft to be yours, and this place doesn’t smell familiar. You take a deep breath and force your eyes open.
Soft light glows through large panes to your left. The bed on which you lay is swathed in the dull tones of the morning rising just outside. You’re laid beneath blankets, several layers that make you sweat, and a cushy pillow cradles your head, many more litter the bed along the top. There’s too much of everything.
The ceiling and walls are black, the bed frame too, the silky and dark, with a fluffy zebra print throw across the foot. You can’t see much more as you lay on your back. You might not know where you are but you can certainly figure who brought you there.
On cue with your consciousness, the opposite the bed opens and you raise your head to watch a shadow enter. It reminds you of another figure, that one rippled with disorientation and impending darkness. He reaches to flip the switch beside the door and the two sconces mounted above the bet light up.
It’s him. It wouldn’t be anyone else. That stranger from the cafe. Your personal tormentor. The man who calls himself Lloyd and a litany of ridiculous names.
He stares back at you. You’re struck dumb with the dregs of you unconcscious and disbelief, meanwhile he looks almost giddy. A smile curves his lips under the line of hair and he rubs his palms together as he shifts his weight between his feet. He raises his hands appeasingly.
“Jellybean, before you scream, please hear me out,” he pleads.
You couldn’t scream if you tried. You’re too weak. This can’t be happening. Why would you be here? In a nice bed, in a nice room. You should be in some twisted torture chamber or out in the middle of the woods. If he’s going to kill you, he needs to at least be straightforward about.
He turns and strides over to another door; a closet. He slides it open and tuts as he browses the contents. You can’t see past him. You barely even try as you let your head fall back against the pillow.
“So, thoughts?” He turns to face you again as he holds up two hangers, “the navy is cute. I like the polka dots and the see throughness here and here, but the pink would bring out your complexion.”
Your eyes flit down and you gape at the two dresses, one in each hand. You shake your head and blink. You bring a hand up and touch your forehead, a grumble slipping free.
“You’re right, jellybean, it’s late,” he turns to put the dresses back in the closet, “we can deal with that in the morning. It’s not too far away... just a few hours.”
He nears the bed and you shrink down, curling your shoulders in as you fold your arms over the blankets. He lowers himself next to you, an elbow in the pillows as he peers down at you. He reaches to touch your cheek and you try to move away. He barely seems to notice as he strokes your face.
“I’ve just been so excited I can’t sleep,” he drags his knuckle around lightly, “but I didn’t want to wake you up. You need to rest. After everything you’ve been through.” He brings his legs up onto the bed and wiggles down to his side, “I know you don’t take care of yourself like you should, baby face, but that’s okay, because you have me now.”
“Why... are you doing this?” You wisp out.
He laughs, “you’re so funny...” he pets your chin, “and cute and...” he trails his hand down and squeezes your shoulder, “small. You’re adorable.”
“Please,” you groan.
“Why am I doing what?” He asks coyly, “why am I taking care of you? Why am I ready to give you everything? Why am I dying just to hear your voice and see your face and...” he stops and leans in, giving a deep sniff, “smell your hair?”
You want to shrivel up. Your lip quivers as the daze recedes and the fear sets in. He’s delusional and you have no way out. You don’t even know where you are. It hardly matters, you doubt you could get very far.
“You’re right. We should sleep. We have tomorrow to get settled in,” he reaches back to flip the light switch next to the bed, dimming the sconces back to black.
He lifts himself to free the blankets from beneath him and sidles under them. He nestles close as you go rigid. He slips his arm under you as he nuzzles your cheek.
“And every day after that. We have a whole lifetime ahead of us, jellybean. Me and you. Together forever...” he stretches his other arm over your stomach, “I never liked fairy tales before, babes. Not til you.”
You close your eyes. You’re tired but there’s no way you’re falling back asleep. This is a waking nightmare.
👄
The man, Lloyd, starts to snore. You feel his muscles relax and feel his breath steady against you. As much as you want to push him away and run, you can’t. You don’t know what it is. It’s akin to sleep paralysis. You’re awake but you can’t fight what’s happening. Something in your mind tells you it’s futile.
The sun rise on the other side of the large windows. In any other circumstance, you would admire a place like this. The sleek furniture, the luxurious blankets, the expansive view. It’s a far cry from your cramped apartment and its small windows.
You can only wallow in helpless self-pity. How did this happen? How did you let it happen? If you hadn’t been so indulgent, you would’ve never been seen. You should’ve known better than to go down to that cafe and splurge on something so menial. You could have made your own tea. You could’ve stayed inside, stayed safe.
His closeness has you sweating. It’s uncomfortable and itchy. You want to rip your skin off.
He moves and you hold your breath. He’s waking up. That can’t be good. At least asleep, he can’t do much. You curl your fingers into your palm and wait.
“Mmm,” he leans in and brushes the tip of his nose against your cheek before planting a kiss, his mustache tickles, “this is heaven. I can’t...” he pushes himself up, planting his hand on the mattress, “I can’t believe this is real. You’re really here.”
You look at him, almost glaring as you let your distress burn through. He doesn’t even notice as he rubs your arm and his blue eyes dance over you. Laying next to him as he looms over you, his size is more obvious. He’s much bigger than you.
“Coffee?” He asks, “I got this new dark roast. All the way from Colombia. I haven’t even tried it. I’ve been waiting on you. Bet it’s much better than that InstaCafe.”
You blink at him. All your fears are coming true. It’s not that he’s snatched you, it that he’s been watching you. You might never know how long but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change this moment.
“And breakfast, if you’re hungry. I know you usually skip that but--”
“Please stop,” you croak, “please...”
“What? Honey, I’m just trying to show you all I can do for you. You don’t have to do all the work anymore. Staring at a screen is bad for your eyes. And your posture.”
“I... I didn’t mind...”
“Ah, that’s just you. You’re a hard worker. Resilient. You do what needs to be done. You don’t complain and you don’t make demands. Baby, you don’t have to. Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you without you even asking.”
“I liked... being alone. I want to be alone,” your breath hitches between words as panic pulses in your chest.
“Do you want to be alone or do you not know what it’s like to have someone? Jellybean, I’m scared too. You’re the first girl I’ve had in my bed that made it past dawn. Hell, the first girl I didn’t... you know,” he gives a crooked grin.
Your lips part as you stare at him, dumbfounded. Sure, he didn’t do more than forcibly cuddle you but it doesn’t change what he did do. You shake your head and sputter as you search for words.
“You followed me.”
“I kept you safe,” he insists.
“You turned my water off. I...”
“That’s what the IV is for,” he reaches over to touch your other arm. You don’t know how you didn’t notice the tubing before. “I brought you tea. All you had to do was open up--”
“You threw something through my window... there was smoke...” your lashes flutter as the memories creep back in.
“I did what had to be done,” his grin falls away and his expression turns stony, “what you made me do.”
You stare at him, speechless.
“I haven’t given you any reason not to trust you. I mean, all you had to do was have a coffee with me. Or even open your door. Honey, I should be mad at you. You hung me out to dry but I can forgive you,” his face softens again, “how can I not?” His eyes go doey, “you’re so beautiful.”
You lay there, unmoving. You feel as if any suddenness might trigger him. He traces along your cheek and jaw and down your neck, “did you decide?”
You narrow your eyes and frown.
“A dress? Blue or pink?”
You don’t answer him. You just look at him as he continues to touch you. Your skin speckles with goosebumps as a chill rolls through you.
“You know what, neither. I get it. You want something more classy. Yeah, given the occasion, I think you’re right, baby face,” he leans over you and looks you in the eye, “we’ll have a look in the closet after breakfast.”
Before you can react, his lips are on yours. You let out a surprised squeak as he holds your chin in place. His mustache tickles you again and his tongue flits across your lips, wetting them just slightly before retracting. He pulls away and sighs.
“Wow.”
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sweet talk ୨ৎ
choso's princess gets needy when they're shopping, of course he takes care of it. ୨ৎ
⋆。‧˚ʚɞ˚‧。⋆ SWEET TALK
⋆。‧˚ʚɞ˚‧。⋆ ---> car sex, p in v, creampie, cowgirl position, shameless use of da word daddy, makin cho da dom of mi dreams lool
choso is naturally nurturing. he makes sure all of your needs are met and he doesn’t think twice when the time comes to provide for you. sometimes. he thinks he provides for you too much. like right now, the sound of your pussy sloppily going up and down on his hardened cock is like a repeated tune in his ears. and your whimpers, those pretty mewls you’re drawing out yourself because choso decided not to help you catch your orgasm.
“you’re a big girl, aren’t you?” he asked once you complained that you were growing tired from doing all of the work.
you’re practically fucking yourself stupid, moaning and babbling out whatever. you’re not even sure if you’re speaking english at this point. you tried to rest your head tiredly on choso’s shoulder which made him grab your hair and pull your head back.
“needy girls don’t deserve to rest.” he says as he places his hands on your hips. your breath is knocked out of your lungs when he pulls his hips back only to ram his cock inside you a second later. a loud scream escapes from your throat as he does it repeatedly.
choso briefly looks around, even though he parked in the supermarket's corner, far from most people, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to notice that the car is shaking. he decides that he needs to hurry and get you to cum around his dick before the two of you get caught.
“fuckin’. needy. girl.” with every word his sliding his cock through your fluttering walls. he could feel your arousal leaking down, dripping from his cock to his balls. he wishes he had more time so that he could make you clean up your mess. ”can’t even wait till we make it home.” he slaps the fat of your ass.
“‘m sorry, cho! jus’ wan’ it so bad.” you cried out. you could feel the impending orgasm brewing in the pit of your stomach. your xl square shaped nails dig into his shoulders the harder he fucks you.
he suddenly stops. “plant your feet. ‘m not doin all of the work.” you don’t disobey him even though you were silently hoping he’d continue to reel you into your orgasm.
you let out huffs as you plant yourself. his cock is just so thick, you can’t do anything but whine as you build up a pace. the feeling of your ass slamming against his pelvis, and your pussy tightening, practically begging for his cum causes him to let out low groans of his own. he keeps his hands on your hips though they prove to be useless as he does nothing to guide you.
“mmmnnn! d-daddy.” you tremble. his cock is filling you so deliciously, your eyes are practically filled with hearts. your pussy is leaking so much and getting everywhere, some of it somehow managed to get on his leather seats. choso ignores the sticky feeling that’s attached to the back of his thighs, that’s a problem he’ll deal with once he gets home.
“talk t’daddy. tell me how ‘m makin you feel.” he orders. his tongue darts out and circles around your brown nipple. he lightly nibbles on it, only using enough force to bring a moan out of you. your spine shudders as your eyes roll back. you can’t think, you can’t talk. all that’s repeating is cho, cho, cho.
“can’t.” you mumble.
he pops your hardened nipple out of his mouth. “gonna make you stop. no ungrateful thing is gonna ride my cock.” he threatens which instantly causes you to let out whines and pleads.
“‘m sorry, daddy. ‘m sorry.” you repeat you slow down so that you could focus on your words. his cock is nestled between your glistening pussy that’s just dripping like a faucet <3. “daddy’s makin me feel so so good. soo good.”
“mmmhm.” his fingers dart to your clit where he presses down on it. your body trembles in response. “keep goin, princess. you’re so close, hm? give me it. i can feel it. you’re jus’ grippin my cock, mmmhm, wet your daddy’s cock.”
you look down at him, the two of you make eye contact. your mouth opens and before you could say anything a loud moan spills from behind your pretty mouth. your pussy clenches around his thick cock, cream and thin strands of your arousal coates his twitching cock. your toes curl and your thighs shake as your brain fully goes out.
“cho! cho! oh! ‘m cummin, d-daddy! right there!.” you babble mindlessly. cho has to whisper in your ear the word “breathe” so that you could fill your lungs with air. he kisses and sucks on your neck, whispering praises.
“good job. you did so well. can you take daddy’s cum now, pretty? oh, i know you can, you’re daddy’s big girl of course you can.” he becomes mindless as he thrusts up into your wetness. a loud squelching sound comes from your pussy which is music to choso’s ears. whimpers and moans break through as his balls ache to be released into your warm walls. he doesn’t deny himself, either. he pounds up, strands of your pussy just smearing any and everywhere.
“fuck, fuck, fuck.” he repeats as his cum shoots out from his sensitive tip and into your willing pussy. you let out mumbled words, you’re too worn out to actually attempt to encourage him. your arousals mix, creating an even stickier mess.
choso lets out heavy huffs, trying to clear his head. he slowly slides his dick out of your puffy, sensitive pussy. you both watch as his cum does the same, seeping out of you like a leak. you shudder and reach under your body, letting your index finger run through your hole.
“shit, princess.” he breathes. he sits you onto the side and reaches up to grab the baby wipes that he keeps in his glove compartment. when he got with you and realized you had sexual urges almost constantly, he found himself keeping wipes on him at all times.
“‘m tired, cho.” you whimper when the texture comes into contact with you while you feel so sensitive.
“i know, baby. gonna get you home nd get you right. jus’ hold on.” he presses a soft kiss against your forehead.
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John
Homelander x Female Reader
Summary: Homelander gets jealous when you take a new lover with the same name as him, and makes sure you remember who you belong to.
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only! Mature/Explicit Content, Dark Themes, Homelander Should Be His Own Warning! Graphic Depictions of Violence, Murder, Stalking, Obsessive Homelander, Jealousy, Threatening, Choking, Intimidation, Dubious Consent, Fear Kink, Breaking and Entering, Kissing, Possessive Homelander Ripping Your Clothes Off, Vaginal Sex, Hate Fucking
Word Count: 2k+
Read more HOMELANDER
A cool and sudden breeze blows in from the hallway as you finish brushing your teeth, telling that you somehow forgot to close a window even though you distinctly remember checking each and every one. You wipe your mouth and grab the heaviest item closest to you, a large cylindrical Virgin Mary candle as you reluctantly venture out into your bedroom, scanning it for intruders before padding out into your dimly lit living room.
“I hope you don’t plan on hitting me over the head with that thing.” His familiar voice booms in your chest as he closes your balcony door very slowly before confidently stepping toward you. “Because that really wouldn’t work out well for you.”
“Homelander,” you greet him shakily, his tone making you unsure if him being here is better or worse than having a robber break into your apartment. “What are you…” you swallow hard as you still grip onto the candle. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” He smiles at you with malicious intent, the rage in his eyes barely contained by the false upturn of his lips. “Can’t I visit my best girl whenever I want?”
“Whenever you want?” You whisper back to him, still in shock that he’s come to visit you after all this time. It had almost been a year since he first saved you from that falling car, since he found out where you lived just to ‘check up on his favorite citizen’ in the middle of the night. It seemed like forever since he last soaked your sheets with his sweat, thrusting the gratitude right out of your body through sordid moans and needy gasps night after night for weeks on end.
But you were always ready to accept the fact that each deliciously torrid encounter you had with him could very well be your last, that someone like him could easily grow tired of someone like you… until that possibility finally became a reality. You figured that another woman had simply taken your place as his visits began to wax and wane, that someone younger or thinner had occupied his time and satisfied his needs better than you ever could. So when weeks had gone by without a sign or whisper of his presence, you decided that it was time to move on.
“Homelander, this is… you haven’t been here in ages. I thought that you…” You barely manage to stammer in your stunned state, his presence alone forcing your hormones to start coursing through your bloodstream.
“You thought, what, exactly? Hmm? That you could just move on with someone else because I was busy keeping you and the American people safe?” He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head as a disappointed sigh brews in his chest, morphing into a desperate laugh. “That you could just forget about me?”
Uh-oh.
The skin on your face and neck starts to warm up with that exquisite concoction of fear and arousal he always seems to draw out of you. You wish you could control how he made you feel, that there was some version of you, somewhere, that could resist him, but that was all part of his charm, now wasn’t it?
“Lose the candle, princess.” His tone is more serious than it’s ever been with you before, dipping down to a dark timbre you’ve only ever heard him use with his enemies.
“Yup.” You do as you’re told and loosen your grip on the candle without another thought, nearly dropping it onto one of your toes as it hits the floor with a dull thud.
“And you with a fucking investment banker of all people? I mean, really?” He scoffs, taking his time walking around your living room as he puffs up his chest. “I would have thought that you were better than that.”
Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch his boots bend the hard wood of your floors, hammering home the heavy weight of the situation that you weren’t nearly as awake for as you needed to be.
“John,” you try to console him, taking a few cautious steps forward with an outstretched arm.
“John,” he repeats in a mocking tone, raising his eyebrows. He chuckles to himself again, picking up one of the pillows on your couch before running his gloved hand over the crushed velvet. “The fact that you chose someone with the same first name as me is really fucking telling, you know that? If you missed me that much, you could have just called.”
“And just how am I supposed to do that? Huh? You made sure I couldn’t call you when you left here without a trace.” You cross your arms over your chest as he puts the pillow back down, reminding him of how he left things.
“Don’t you put this on me!” He bares his teeth as his eyes glow red, pointing a finger at you before that warm hue quickly subsides.
Holy shit, you’re in trouble.
“I’m sorry,” you try.
“You’re sorry?” He smiles as if to shake off any real emotions he may have about the situation, tying your stomach into knots in the process as you try to keep up with his ever changing moods. “Do you have any idea how fucked up it was for me to hear you screaming that name when I wasn’t the one inside you?”
Your heart falls out of your chest, sinking down to the very pit of your stomach as his words hit your ears, weighing you down so that you can barely move. You had no idea that he cared that much about you, that he would even think to drop by after being away for so long. But why did he have to wait? Why did he have to hear…?
“I was going to visit you that night, but he was already here.” He spits, pointing to the doorway behind you. “In your bedroom of all places!” He takes a few more careful steps toward you, his eyes now burning his usual fiery blue. “It took everything I had not to destroy the both of you right then and there, but lucky for you, I’ve been working on my impulse control.”
All you can do is stare at him, lips trembling, unable to think of anything to say that won’t make him more angry than he already is. You swallow hard, quaking in silence as he advances on you, his jaw clenching in anger before he dared to speak again.
“You know, you really should have heard him beg for his life when I dangled him from the top of the Empire State Building.” He smiles so wide that the skin around his eyes begins to wrinkle, his canines appearing as fangs against his lips. “He even pissed himself before I dropped him from that high up. Pathetic, really. Load of good that big dick is now, huh?”
FUCK! What did he just say?
So that’s why the other John hasn’t called you in a few weeks; he wasn’t ignoring you at all, he was just… he was gone. You can only imagine how scared and confused he must have been as Homelander flew him up into the night sky one last time, the cool December wind biting at his cheeks. That is until he undoubtedly told him why he was doing it, because if you know anything about Homelander, you know that he made damn sure your former lover knew exactly why he was sending him to his death.
Homelander stops just short of your bare feet, towering over you as he places his gloved hand on your shoulder, squeezing hard before smoothing it up to your neck. He grins as he tightens his grip, leaning in close enough to whisper into your ear as he lets you think through the worst case scenario. “Now I don’t have to share you with anyone else anymore.”
You know that you should be appalled at what he’s telling you, that you should be absolutely sick to your stomach with fear and disgust, but fight and flight won’t do you any good against the most powerful man in the entire world. You’ve heard horror stories of those who have tried before you and failed, deciding in a split second to lean on your most trusted coping mechanism: fawn.
“You killed him… for me?” You lean into the idea of him being so obsessed with you that he couldn’t stand to have another man touch you in his absence; that you’ve haunted him well past the time since he left.
He pulls back to glare at you, surprised that you’re not more shocked about the news as his features shift from menacing to intrigue. For the first time since you’ve known him, The Homelander is speechless. You try to focus on the scent of his cologne as it swims through your nostrils, exciting every nerve in your body just like it used to as his thumb grazes over your windpipe, subtly threatening to end you right here and now as his eyes dart over your face.
“You sick fuck!” He whispers adoringly, grinning from ear to ear as he scans your vital signs for any biological tell of deceit. Unable to decipher the difference between the intertwined terror and excitement coursing its way through your body, he takes the hem of your t-shirt between his fingers, gathering the fabric together in his palm before quickly ripping it off your torso. “I knew you were just like me from the very first second I saw you. I could tell that you were different from everyone else, that you were special.”
He brushes his palm over your breasts, intently watching your nipples harden against the leather of his glove as he hungrily surveys every curve of your body. A look you know all too well paints his features with desire as he pushes you backward against the wall, the exposed brick cutting into the bare skin of your shoulder blades as you let out a surprised grunt. He chuckles before kissing your lips with a newfound intensity, his breath hitching into a needy moan as he tugs your underwear down your thighs, nipping at your bottom lip before ripping your panties off just as easily as he had your shirt.
All that anger and jealousy makes him take you that much quicker and harder than he ever had before, his superhuman girth stretching you to capacity before you can even blink. He glides inside your soaking wet walls in one fluid motion, making you forget about the other John entirely as he thrusts up into you with unmatched desperation.
“You’re mine,” he whispers before grasping onto your thighs, lifting them up around his waist so he can push even deeper inside. “From now on, you only fuck me! Got it?”
“Got it!” You cross your legs around his back, your feet getting caught in his cape as he bites his words into your neck, sucking your skin into his mouth until it nearly breaks against his tongue. You groan in ecstasy and run your fingers through his hair, holding him close as he latches onto you like a vampire, draining you of your very life force all while driving waves of delight through your viscera.
He continues sucking as many bruises onto your throat as possible, marking you as his for everyone else to see as he hits that precious bundle of nerves tucked away up inside you. His moans become more frequent as his needy, throbbing member brushes against your cervix with each tantalizing pass, shooting an electric tingling sensation up your spine and into the rest of your body. Every single thrust up into you seems to be fueled by his hatred for you and this situation; that palpable ferocity tainting your carnal reunion with just enough force to send you shaking and shivering over the edge just a little earlier than you expected.
“John!” You whimper as he drills each vengeful burst of pleasure up into your core, setting your skin on fire as you violently convulse around him.
“No,” he wraps his hand around your throat again, pressing his thumb into your deepest bruise as he glares at you with sweat dripping down his forehead. “You call me Homelander from now on.”
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lucky girl | kim sunoo
synopsis ; sure, you're already well known as enhypen member kim sunoo's girlfriend, but that doesn't hinder the thrill of tossing a coin and landing on heads when sunoo chooses you, in the midst of the crowd.
pairing ; idol!kimsunoo x gf!reader
genre ; fluff, established rs
wc ; 530
notes ; for @lilacnini and @nishions polaroid memories event ੈ♡˳
The hashtag, ‘#ENHYPENSUNOO’ is trending again.
Or rather, what with all the recent concerts, fancalls and fansigns, all you’re seeing on your for you page are clips of your boyfriend interacting with his fangirls. How many times have you seen the caption, ‘Sunoo noticed me!’, or watched a video of Sunoo briefly interlocking fingers with another girl? You are always coming across concert videos with a shaking camera pointed towards Sunoo, who points their way with a warm smile and hand heart.
You quickly look up from your phone to cross the road, slowly growing tired of the repetitive posts you’re viewing.
But you’re pretty much used to it. Some of Sunoo’s fans have asked you whether or not you get jealous often, and you can safely (and honestly) say that you don’t. They look at you disbelievingly, but don’t question you further. They just slink back into the crowd, desperate for a glimpse of their idol.
You can’t blame them for being curious.
What you don’t ask them, however, even though you’re sorely tempted to, is, ‘why would I ever feel jealous?’ What’s there to be jealous about when Sunoo gives you morning kisses that only you receive? Why would you be overcome with envy seeing lame high-fives when you’re getting daily welcome-home hugs?
Don’t you get the best treatment out of all of them? Even though sometimes you do wish you could have the same memory, a moment you'll be able to cherish in your mind forever.
You run towards where the crowd congregates, screams and whistles for all the members arising from the hundreds of fans. A few brightly coloured heads at the edge of the crowd helps you distinguish where the members are. Rushing forward with only one purpose (to greet all the members, not just Sunoo, of course!), you squeeze past all the people. You don’t bother to wave towards all the fans who recognise you.
“Kim Sunoo!” You scream, probably blending in with all his fangirls when you reach the barricade and lean against it. You whip your phone out to capture this moment, whether he notices you or not, because all you want is to have your very own video to post, to caption with the tag “‘Kim Sunoo noticed me!”
He’s busy on the other side of the street, forming hand-hearts with dazed teenagers and waving cheerily at their general crowd. You’re starting to lose hope in him even seeing you, but when he turns around to check in on your side of the road, his eyes sparkle when they meet yours. He pretends not to act pleasantly surprised when you beckon him over.
“My girl,” he whispers happily, ignoring the collective gasp from everyone around you as he pulls you in and kisses your cheek. Heart starting to race, your cheeks grow warm where he kissed you, and you can’t help but gaze starstruck after him as he walks off, giggling teasingly your way.
And you capture it all on camera – granted, it’s most likely angled awkwardly towards the ground – but at least now you can caption a post with ‘My boyfriend noticed me!’. A beautiful, lasting memory that’s purely yours.
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Feelings — James potter.
James potter X fem!reader.
Had this idea so randomly and wanted to write it asap.
Word count: 1.9k
Summary: in which James blows you off many times, but how is he going to make it up to you?
Warnings: angst, fluff, a littleeee smutty at the end.
You were sitting next to your boyfriend, doing his homework on his bed, not speaking to you as he copied things down.
You hugged your knees closer to your chest and thought of ways you could hang out with him, recalling how you haven’t done that in a month or so, you hated to think he’s blowing you off.
“Jamie?” You broke the silence, the only thing you can hear is his scribbling. “Hm?” Was all James said as you leaned closer to him.
“Do you want to hang out with me? Tomorrow, hogsmeade.” You suggested before he looked at you for a brief second, pulling his glasses up his nose before he continued writing. “Can’t, I’ve got quidditch practice.” James responded. “What about after it?”
“I have to study for Monday’s potions test.” He excused, still writing down, not sparing you any looks.
You considered another option. “How about after Monday?” You tilted your head, your brain screaming at you to get the message, but truthfully; you’d missed him so much, and you’d do anything to get him to notice you.. your own boyfriend.
“Next week? Nah, schedule’s too tight..” James sighed, dropping his pen for a second, popping his knuckles, bringing a hand to the side of his neck, massaging it.
“Okay..” you looked away from him, a heavy feeling growing in your chest as you got up from his red bedding.
“What about after next week?” You asked, knowing he’d blow you off or come up with a rubbish excuse, but you wanted to see how long he’s going to turn you down. “I don’t know, love.. depends on how available I am.” James looked up at you, his eyes a little droopy, your heart sank at the pet name, but immediately gone as you’re reminded it meant nothing.
“Alright, got it.. I’ll go to bed now, night Jamie.” You scratched the top of your head before he waved to you, rubbing his eyes from underneath his glasses as you turned around and made your way into your own dorm, all your friends already there for the night. Some asleep, some still having a small chat in bed.
You succumbed on your bed, thinking of the many excuses James had given you not to hang out.. is he tired of your relationship? Of course he is, you tossed and turned in your sheets, thinking of ways you can fix it, can you? Does he want you to? Does he even care?
The next morning came around, you were going down the steps from your dorm room to hear laughter in the common room, wondering who’s laughing at such early hours.. Even though it was twelve pm, you slept too long.
As you took the last step, you noticed the people sat on the red couches in front of the fireplace warming the room, the sight was like ice slapping you in your face, it was James and his friends, laughing, chatting, Marlene on his side, Sirius on the other, the girl kept leaning on him as they laughed at a joke you couldn’t even make out, Remus ahead of them along with Peter on the floor.
James had his back to you, his curls bouncing as he talked and engaged in conversation with all these people after telling you he had no time for anything.
your heart sank so low you almost couldn’t feel it anymore, your hands growing the ability to shake as you tightened them into a fist, to get them to stop, it all felt like a punch in the gut, a slap in the face, a kick in the knee.
You left the common room, thankfully no one had noticed you, and you won’t be talking to James, did he even care you won’t be talking to him? The thought made you cry absentmindedly.
Trying your best to carry on with your day, everything is fine, you knew now that he was lying, he made time for anything but you, it felt so shit.
It was after five days, two days after his potions test, James noticed you’re barely around anymore, even though you didn’t hide from him purposely, he just needed to look hard enough to notice you, or that’s what you thought, but to James it was different, too different.
He looked for you, he asked about you, being told by your roommates that you were in your dorm room.
James quickly made his way up, knocking on the door to announce himself, as he saw you lying down on your bed, a book in hand, lost in your thoughts, reading.
You were wearing shorts that complimented your legs pretty nicely, and James kicked himself for staring like that before he cleared his throat.
Your eyes shot up at the noise, sitting up on your elbows, your book toppling down from your lap. “What are you doing here?” You quickly turned, dangling your legs down the bed, fixing the shorts down your thighs.
“I haven’t seen you in a while, is everything okay?” James went and sat next to you, his eyes turned up in concern, his curls falling down his eyes before he moved them away with his finger tips.
You blinked at his question, you didn’t expect him to notice that you were ghosting him. “Everything is fine.” You coldly said, scratching your arm, your eyes focused elsewhere.
“Hey.. what is it?” James caught on your tone, and he didn’t like it. You shrugged, dismissive of how he suddenly cares now, you’ll blow him off just like he does.
“Love, what is it?” James started as that was the last straw for you, that nickname always riled you up because he never acts like you’re his ‘love’ or whatever he likes to call you. “Don’t call me that!” You raged, still sitting down, your hands going to rub your eyes, already feeling a headache coming up.
“What? Hey.. what’s wrong?” James took a gentle hold of your wrist before you sighed, swallowing down the urge to cry in front of him, it wouldn’t change anything. “Nothing, just go back to your friends, you seem to care about them more than you’ll ever care about me.” You spat, bitterly.
James was taken aback at your tone, his hazel eyes looking through yours, thinking of whatever you meant.
“I saw you the day after you blew me off, Sirius and Marlene are worth your time aren’t they? Well, I won’t be holding you back..” you tried to blow him off, but his grip on your wrist tightened, yet his demeanour remained calm, his face looking at yours apologetically.
“Are you jealous?” James started before a soft smirk made its way on his pink lips.
You forcefully took your wrist from his grip. “What I feel and jealousy are two different things.” You said, finding it hard to breathe now that you wanted to cry.
“What you saw that day was a random thing! I didn’t plan it, none of us did. I’m so sorry I made it seem like I don’t want to be around you, baby.. I’m just so busy and I know I fucked up and I deserve for you to push me away..” James took a hold of your chin with his palm.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered, his lips so close to yours, but you only moved your head away, too angry at him to consider anything.
You sighed, looking away from him. “You blew me off two weeks ahead, how else do you want me to take it? Then I see you laughing with another girl.. It sucks!” You rubbed your forehead as you talked, your heart sinking the more you thought of it.
James went on his knees, in front of you, taking a hold of both of your hands in his. You narrowed your eyes at his actions. He was a little too calm, you didn’t know what to think of it.
“I was busy and there’s so much work I needed to finish, and I'm so terribly sorry that I made you feel unwanted..” James brought his warm lips to your knuckles, making you shiver, a tingle running through your head and down your spine.
James noticed your lack of answer as he thought of something completely different from the way he’d usually apologise.. “How can I make it up to you?” James asked, his hands going to your knees, his eyes innocently staring up at yours, you felt so tongue tied at the way his tone was more of a husky whisper.
“Hm? How?” James continued as you felt your knees being parted with his strong hands, your breathing became more ragged. “I-“ you started before his hands had split your legs apart enough that he placed himself between them. “I’m sorry, baby.” James continued to stare up into your eyes, his fingers undoing the tying knot around the waistline of your shorts.
“James.. What are you doing?” You asked, breathlessly.
He didn’t respond and you didn’t push him away so he continued, sliding your shorts down your legs, followed by your underwear and pulling them away as he kneeled between your legs once again.
James was staring at your naked front as you couldn’t take it, you lied down, closing your eyes, heat coating your cheeks, it wasn’t long before you felt heat against you, his breath fanning you, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your folds as you gasped at the contact, James kissed your folds multiple times before his tongue was rolling between them and you moaned at the sensation, your hands going to his curls.
James was making out with your clit at this point, his tongue so warm against you, your whimpering was all he could hear besides his strangled groans that sent vibrations through you, making you squirm. “James.. oh my god.” You whined, your fingers gripping his hair as his tongue licked every inch of your dripping clit, his saliva rolling down your bum as his stronghold was on your thighs, splitting you apart and keeping you from squirming too much as his tongue continued to make you cry out.
“James.. James!” You moaned, your eyes closed shut at the bubbling sensation in your lower stomach, his fingernails digging into the side of your thighs, feeling himself getting harder at your noises. “Fuck, fuck..” you whined, James only went faster, his tongue doing wonders with you, you felt like your chest was about to explode.
“I’m close.” You finally let out, not finding it in you to speak at this moment.
James licked your orgasmic juices off your hot centre, not wasting a drop as you were breathing heavily. “Good girl..” James finally pulled away from you, his mouth swollen as you saw how he wiped it with two of his fingers before bringing those up his mouth, licking them off.
You flushed so hard at the sight, closing your legs and sitting up on your bed. “You okay, love?” James took a hold of your chin as you nodded. “I expected you to make it up to me so differently.” You chuckled, hiding your face in your hands before James joined you, his laugh brought butterflies to your stomach before you grabbed your shorts to cover yourself up.
“So, you liked it?” James smirked as you nodded, still Blushing madly. “Good.. now you better not push me away.” James kissed your cheek.
“It is kind of tempting..” You joked before James laughed and pulled you into your bed, hugging you tight, his arms so strong around you, you were in love with him, and you were hoping he wouldn't do something so stupid any time soon.
Taglist: @jamespottersdaisy @dancinglikeaballerina @thatdummy-girl @junhuilvrrr @scottish-lover @jsjcue @turvi
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everybody’s falling in love but me
⟿ wc; 2k+
⟿ Sakusa Kiyoomi x gn reader ; dramatic fluff, for me this is really a cute fic, hope you like it
⟿ have you ever felt like everyone’s been experiencing love and relationships as if it was a trend and you’re getting left behind? I wrote this fic because of that
He hears another rant from Atsumu. Hinata rushes to guess, and Sakusa doesn’t need to listen further to determine what this is all about.
Love. Again.
How long did Atsumu’s previous partner lasted? Two weeks? 6 days? A night?
He sat at the gym floor and sees Bokuto smiling cheekily despite his girlfriend coming over to scold him for overexerting given his shoulder injury. Hinata is on a call with Kageyama, grinning and jumping, as if practice was not tiring enough.
He passes on Atsumu’s request, heavily declining to stay up until midnight taking care of wobbly legs and liquor drowned cognition. And for a well-built set of athletes, it sure is a heavy work.
Besides, the topic will be the same. Atsumu vents, hogs all the drama, Bokuto and Hinata would comfort him while Meian tries to give a man-to-man advice. And when the night breeze grows heavy and their hazy eyes starts to cloud with brimming tears with a weird mixture of laughter, only tales of love would escape their lips.
Sakusa shakes his head and hurries packing up knowing the blonde setter would drag everyone out for a drink. And no matter what kind of opinion he says, his teammates would point out his own demise. Right, he is not even in a relationship.
All his friends seem to feel warm and giddy talking about the important people in their life. Sure, their partners had flaws, but all those details seem to fit the puzzle. Drawn back by time again and again, as if tethered by invisible threads of affinity, through complains and smiles, they keep coming back.
Like it was meant to be.
Even if it meant his heart would always be at the edge of heaven and hell all the time?
He likes his comfort zone as it is even if it means he is alone. Alone but not lonely, well, most of the time.
Sakusa can’t fathom the idea of how they can be willing to gamble on the table, hoping that their partner would show a card of heart.
Of all computed probabilities, love must be a question of chance.
Dumb luck. Fate. Destiny.
Whatever it is, his walls are tall enough for love to even take a peek.
Sometimes, confusion spreads over him, was he being left out? Is his heart just half a piece and there’s actually a need for someone to complete it?
Actually, he never liked putting much effort in liking someone. Simply, the time and attention to spend, he thinks it is not worth it.
He assumes several points, mostly illogical, but he thinks otherwise.
First, to get used to someone’s warmth and the eternal winter that would follow once it’s gone. Second, he doesn't want to be a memory in someone's past, archived and forgotten as though once upon a time, he was just a side character in a story.
Lastly, but of course you will never hear him admit it.
He feels scared. Once he ends up alone, back to how he always was, he does not know how to cope with such loss.
With that, he prefers not feeling anything, getting attached, or falling in love at all.
There’s the constant fear of being left alone and hurt. For a heart to get used to a rhythm and then long a melody of what your heartbeat used to dance to.
But of course, he knows it is more complicated than that. And it was never easy admitting it. It’s hard to express this feeling. Of hoping to love and be loved, at the same time still enjoying the peace of solitude.
It seems to be an ignorant bliss, when you don’t know love drawn along the lines of commitment. Sure, he can admire someone but not in a way there’ll be a ring on his finger someday and vows will be exchanged.
His feelings were often intellectualized, and the words just never materialize.
There’s another fear that lingers, that admitting his feelings means a promise. That he will never leave them too.
What if his feelings change along the way?
He admires the concept of affection and intimacy but not when it is about someone’s name to be carved in his heart.
It seems fun. No, fun is not the word for it. It’s difficult to describe, but loving and being loved must be something special.
‘Who am I to find joy in such experience?’ He often asks himself.
So, he will simply think about this for a few nights, or days, or during showers, in-between tv shows, just enough to acknowledge this feeling and let it go.
See, there’s a lot of issues he is still working on. And may it be a decade or a century, he wishes to be well prepared before he falls in love.
Because he knows when he falls, it will be like gravity had him on a chokehold.
“You’re meeting again?” Bokuto asks. Suddenly, everyone’s attention is on him.
It’s an early end for their practice today. It barely warmed him up. Although Sakusa protests, he plays anyway. He grumbles but still plays volleyball all too well. Hinata complains how he can hate and love a thing, and still be good at it.
“Right Omi, I wonder why’s that” Atsumu sneaks a remark, with a hand placed on his shoulder, eyebrows wiggling. His teammates are too good at jumping, often at conclusions.
“It’s for that case settlement” Sakusa replies.
“The house ownership?” Everyone pauses to listen as Atsumu speaks. “Wonder how someone did manage to scam you” Atsumu’s right. He thinks of himself as ahead of analyzing people, turns out he’s vulnerable when someone offers something with the label ‘sale’.
“Why not let it go? You’re rich, unless you want to keep going on those ‘case meetings’ huh”
Sakusa simply sighs. The scammer was caught months ago, but there wasn’t any progress on who gets the house. Sakusa Kiyoomi, who finally decided to buy a house, somehow ended up tangled with you.
Both of you paid the full amount for the house, caught off guard by the ‘sale’. Said it was 50% off (it never was). Truly, the scammer knows capitalism by its roots, selling the house to both Sakusa and you, presented as a bargain but gained twice the amount. And unfortunately, the money was gone in thin air. The positive side was, it was named after you and Sakusa but both of you have to decide how to settle the ownership.
The judge suggested two options:
a) one gets the house, the other compensated with money
b) sell the house, both gets compensated with money
However, both of you refuses to give away the house. It’s a perfect deal, both near your workplaces, spacious, newly renovated, completely furnished, and has that perfect aesthetic of the interior you both dreamed of.
Sakusa already told this dilemma to his teammates. He has no choice, it’s been months, and both of you kept meeting but ends up arguing. No wins, no losses. A perfect stagnant problem.
“Let Kiyoomi enjoy his dates—”
“It’s a meeting” Sakusa retorts.
“Right, and the sun’s a star” Atsumu rolls his eyes.
“It’s a star?” Hinata quickly replies, with furrowed brows.
“Well, whatever you call it, seems like you’re enjoying anyways” Atsumu shrugs. Bokuto and Hinata nods.
“They’re annoying at best” Sakusa replies, massaging his forehead thinking what chaos it will be again later.
“If you don’t like each other so much, why bother meet all the time?” Hinata asks.
“Specifically, at least twice a week” Bokuto agrees.
And Sakusa’s left defenseless. His walls came crashing down.
He ignores everything they say after, as he usually does. He finishes packing up and proceeds to check your message. He searches the location where your date will be—discussion, he smiles at his silly mistake.
On the other hand, you are getting uneasy how today will turn out although you are sure an argument will be present. It’s quite a joke you kept meeting someone despite your desire to avoid things that are a waste of time.
Meeting Sakusa is not a waste of time, isn’t it?
You deny the excitement building up waiting on him as he shows up in gym clothes compared to your academia themed outfit. It was like someone on a fitness journey was meeting up with a crumbling postgrad student.
With black sweatpants, an inch higher than his ankle, and his regular fitted black shirt, you spot Kiyoomi. As marvelous and nonchalant as ever.
Kiyoomi looks from outside the cafe’s window and pauses for almost a minute, thinking of something nice to say.
You also prepared a few phrases on your mind, something about the weather. How cloudy skies compliments the hue of his hair and eyes, captivating his features so well.
But the moment you meet, and words come out from your mouths, he was baffled how something about the weather turned into an argument about ecological footprints. Maybe because Kiyoomi kept on using his car despite the training venue being streets away. You point it out and Kiyoomi would never admit his purpose of hoping to drive you home sometime. So, he contradicts your words by the number of items you kept on purchasing and why consumerism keeps on depleting the earth’s resources.
After some lengthy banter, silence precedes.
But Sakusa wonders what remains loud, no one’s talking but something remains loud.
Then he realizes, there’s the beat on his chest.
He begins to get baffled by how many paradoxes can exist all at once.
Like how he can hate your guts but keeps making his days available just to see you.
How can he be so selfish of not wanting to give up the house just so he can hear you ramble about your life, why it was your dream house, how can it benefit your working hours, and how you hate pets are not allowed in your current apartment complex.
He hates this. How his practice tires him out but ends up coming back to meet you. Like it was meant to be.
You could also list your reasons to hate him.
You hate how he becomes silent suddenly. But his nonverbal gestures tell a lot and more than what you need to know. Like how his lips slowly lift when your reasoning was actually right. Or the way he orders for the both of you and never misses any detail, he gets it right without even asking you. Even the way he leans forward slightly just so he can hear you clearly and remind you he is listening whenever you share anything.
You begin to remind yourself, think with your head not that thing in your chest.
Of all computed probabilities, love may not be a question of chance…but a choice.
Dumb luck. Fate. Destiny.
Whatever it was, he might be slowly getting it.
You are not there to complete him. Neither he does. But simply sitting in front of him, with his pretty hair, and cute grunts. And all his snide remarks, the comments how your outfit suits you, remembering what your favorite coat is, his random sarcasm, how he remembers all the stories you told him.
His mandatory habit of collecting the receipt with your doodles, how he informs you ahead of his schedule making sure you are a part of it, and simply being with each other.
It is not just a question what this situation is. It is an enigma.
You hate him.
And damn right, he hates you too.
But you both say goodbye with smiles on your face.
Another meeting is set on a shared online calendar you previously both agreed on.
Also, the house still belongs to both of you.
a/n: I admit I get jealous of the "love experience" and I admit I never tried a relationship. Because like what I wrote, it was not the fear of love, it's the fear of losing someone you love.
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Boundless Devotion - Part XI
Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader
Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |
Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |
Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15
Warnings: light angst, light fluff, slight violence
Words: 4340
The distant rumble of thunder causes your horse to fidget nervously as the two of you press on along the trail from the manor.
Your gaze shifts from the darkening skies to the princess, riding slightly ahead of you.
Since leaving, a heavy silence has hung between the two of you with the both of you choosing to focus on the path ahead or, in Natasha’s case, glaring into the distance.
You can easily read the tension in her body from her stiff back, letting you know her current feelings.
Unable to stand the quiet anymore, you decide to call out to her.
“I can tell that you’re still upset, you know.”
At the sound of your voice, Natasha relaxes her posture slightly, slowing her horse to ride alongside you. With a tired sigh and a slight bow of her head, she grumbles under her breath.
“Not at you,” she clarifies before her hands clench the reins in anger, and she grits out. “Just this situation.”
You sigh sadly at her explanation, looking down at your hands in disappointment. This is precisely what you had hoped to avoid—adding more stress to her mind.
Noticing your expression, Natasha's hand reaches out to rest on your shoulder, drawing your attention. Her eyes soften when they meet yours with a knowing look.
“Hey, I’m serious. This is not on you,” she stresses before continuing with a pleading tone, “You’re my best friend, Y/n. I just want you to be safe.”
Her proposition from earlier reappears in your mind. The offer was kind and generous but accepting it would create too many complications, especially for Natasha.
Breaking away from her intense gaze, you look down to focus on your horse instead, finding small comfort in stroking its mane gently before quietly telling her your answer with a resigned sigh.
“I can’t stay at the castle, Natasha.”
“Why not?” she asks with a frustrated sigh.
Returning your gaze to hers, a sense of nostalgia washes over you as you look at her.
Despite growing up together, you’re still amazed at how she still manages to maintain the strength and compassion that you’ve always seen in her when you were young.
Rather than responding directly to her, you ask a different question.
“Do you remember what you told me the first time we met?”
Natasha tilts her head in confusion, but still, she decides to go along with it anyway, curious about the point of your abrupt change in subject.
“I remember saying that you were the most stubborn person I’ve ever met," she recalls with a pointed look in her eyes.
Amused, you let out a small laugh and shake your head lightly.
“Says the one who wouldn’t stay still after she fell out of a tree.”
Natasha rolls her eyes, but a tiny smile forms at the corner of her lips at the memory of her first official meeting with you outside of royal events.
Your mind also drifts to the past, recalling the state of the kingdom at that time when you were still children—even after years have passed, people were still recovering from the effects and loss of the war.
After a brief moment, you continue.
“During that time, even with the peace treaty, there was still some resentment between our people and the Stark kingdom.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Natasha sighs solemnly in recollection before giving you a small teasing smile. “Even someone as kind as you didn’t like them back then.”
That was true. At that time, the twins had recently entered your life after the devastating loss of their parents to some Stark stragglers in the kingdom. With that incident as well as Madam B’s constant comments throughout your childhood of how the Stark kingdom should’ve lost the war, it’s understandable why your sentiments towards the other kingdom weren't exactly favorable.
However, your perspective changed on that fateful day when you stumbled upon the injured princess at the base of the tree by the lake.
Pulling yourself from the memory, you nod your head in acknowledgment of her words about you before commenting.
“You could say almost everyone in the kingdom had some animosity with the Stark kingdom.”
Your eyes then drift to Natasha, looking at her with admiration.
“But not you,” you say softly.
When Natasha tilts her curiously, still confused at your point, your hand reaches for hers, and she gives it to you without hesitation, intertwining your fingers.
Despite the slight roughness on her skin, a result from years of training, you only feel the warmth of her palm spreading to you and the gentleness in her grasp.
For a brief bittersweet moment, you can’t help but think about how her hand fits perfectly in yours.
Shaking away the thought, your thumb instinctively caresses the back of her hand as you explain to her.
“You have a kind heart, Natasha, always wanting to protect and care for everyone.”
Pausing your movement, you remember her words from years ago.
“Back then, you told me that when you became the queen, you’re going to heal the pain that the war had caused. For everyone. For both kingdoms.”
A small smile plays on your lips as you reminisce about the memory.
“That was the moment I knew you would become a great ruler.”
Looking up into her eyes, you tell her earnestly, “I still do, which is why I decided that day to do everything I can to help you accomplish that future you envisioned.”
Giving her a small smile, you end with a soft tone, “Because I believe in you, Natasha.”
Natasha’s eyes widen, and her mouth opens in surprise, stunned speechless at your words.
After a moment, your smile fades as you glance back down at her hand in yours before releasing it with a resigned sigh.
“But that means you can’t keep trying to protect me from every bad thing. Not when you need to focus on the entire kingdom soon.”
“I can do both,” Natasha asserts with a frown.
Determined, you shake your head in refusal.
“No, you need more allies among the other nobles than just me. When you become queen, you’ll be working with the heads of the houses, not their daughters or sons who are already charmed by you.”
Natasha huffs in annoyance at the mention of the older nobles, recalling their greed for power and favor.
You shoot her a knowing look as you point out.
“You know that bringing me into the castle will show favoritism.”
Natasha huffs in disbelief before arguing, “First of all, you are my favorite, and second, everyone already thinks we’re together.”
“But we’re not going to be for much longer,” you remind her, repeating her words from this morning. “After your coronation, you and I don’t need to be in a fake relationship anymore.”
“I didn’t—that was before—,” Natasha groans, rubbing her forehead in frustration.
You are right concerning the situation with other nobles. Navigating and balancing the political scene has always been a challenging task, even for her parents.
Once she takes the throne, all of those nobles’ scrutinizing eyes will turn to her, and they will ruthlessly pick apart every action she takes. Bringing you in will just put you in the forefront of their attention.
Natasha drags her hand down her face tiredly, giving you a conflicted look.
“That still doesn’t make what your father is doing right,” she says.
“No, but it is my problem to worry about, not yours,” you assert firmly.
Natasha starts to argue, but you interrupt, emphasizing your point.
“As queen, you will have to choose your battles, Natasha,” you stress, giving her a serious look. “Even if it means you don’t choose me.”
Her expression twists in displeasure at your last words, a sentiment she finds difficult to accept.
However, confronted by your unrelenting and expectant gaze, Natasha sighs in frustration, shaking her head in disbelief.
"You know, I feel like you got those words from one of my mother’s lectures," she says, slightly exasperated. Her tone eases the tension in the air a little.
“Maybe,” you reply with a small laugh.
Natasha watches you with a resigned expression. While she doesn't entirely agree with your point, she’s not going to force you into something you don’t want.
“I still don’t like the idea of you going back to him,” Natasha remarks.
You sigh, admitting, “Well, as long as I follow his orders, he usually just leaves me alone.”
Her expression twists unhappily at that information, prompting you to place a reassuring hand on her arm before continuing.
“I do have a plan so that I can leave eventually, Natasha. Until then, I can take care of myself.” You give her a reassuring smile. “And I’m not alone. I have the twins.”
“You also have me,” Natasha says earnestly, covering your hand with hers and squeezing it gently. “Whatever you need, the castle is always open to you.”
“I know,” you say appreciatively. “Thank you, Natasha.”
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
After reluctantly accepting your decision, Natasha and you continue until the two of you reach a fork in the path.
Natasha slows her horse to a stop, looking to you for direction as she realizes that she doesn’t know your intended destination. In the back of her mind, she recalls Pietro mentioning something about you finding answers.
“So, where are we going?”
“The prison,” you respond to her casually, already urging your horse in its direction.
Natasha raises a brow, an unsettling feeling creeping in as she remembers Clint’s message to her on the day of the festival about the stalled interrogation of the man from the cemetery attack.
“Who are you going to see?” she asks hesitantly, catching up beside you.
“Captain James Barnes,” you reveal.
Natasha lets out a small breath of relief at your answer, her body relaxing momentarily before tensing up again as she recognizes the name.
“As in Stark’s old captain?” she questions.
At your nod, she asks curiously, “What is he doing there?”
You pause for a moment before answering, humming a little in thought.
“My father assumes it was an assassination attempt, but when I met him, he suddenly tried to take me away,” you explain nonchalantly before noticing Natasha’s shocked expression and quickly continuing to reassure her. “Pietro stopped him, though, and he was captured before he could do anything else.”
Natasha raises her hand in a stopping gesture as she tries to process the new information, pinching between her eyes in exasperation at you before taking a deep breath.
“So you’re telling me…you were almost kidnapped by this known criminal, and now we’re on our way to the prison to talk with him?”
You nod, confirming her words.
Natasha stares at you in disbelief for a moment in silence before quickly turning her horse around and grabbing your reins.
“That’s it, we’re going back to the castle,” she declares firmly.
“Natasha, we just talked about this,” you say, pulling your reins back from her grip.
“No, this involves a war criminal. I think I have some power over the decisions in this case,” Natasha says with a pointed look.
Despite her serious expression, you return her stare with an all-too-familiar pleading look, causing Natasha to quickly turn away, refusing to maintain eye contact with you.
It was already difficult to refuse any request from you when you look at her with that expression, but with the recent realization of her feelings, she knows she stands no chance right now.
“Natasha, please.”
She groans internally at the sound of your voice, taking a deep breath before giving you a tiny glare, which you return with a slight tilt of your head and a small pout.
Immediately, Natasha’s head falls to her chest in defeat. She can already hear Yelena’s mocking voice in her mind about how easily she gives in to you.
In a final attempt to see if you may change your mind, Natasha gives you another hard look before ultimately relenting with a sigh.
“Okay, fine, but I’m staying beside you the entire time, and you can’t get too close to him.”
When your face brightens with a satisfied smile in victory, Natasha huffs and shakes her head in disbelief.
Despite her reaction, though, a warm feeling spreads in her chest at your happy expression, reminding her of the original reason she had come to see you.
As the two of you ride side by side on the path, Natasha decides to take this opportunity to continue the conversation that was previously interrupted.
However, before delving back into that discussion, there was another topic concerning something from earlier that she wanted to ask you about first.
“Y/n, back at the manor, when I was climbing to your window…,” Natasha starts, causing you to look at her curiously.
“I overheard some parts of your conversation with the twins,” she admits.
With a desire to confirm her suspicion based on the fragments she heard, Natasha presses on with her question when she notices your surprised expression.
"When you told me that you liked someone…you didn’t mean Carol, did you?"
Natasha observes as your eyes widen and your lips part in surprise before you quickly shake your head to get out of your shocked state.
“Oh, that’s—uh, I mean, Carol’s…great. Anybody would like—um…” you wince slightly at your loss of words.
With a raised brow, Natasha waits as you stumble over your words before you finally confess under your breath with a sigh, “...no, I wasn’t talking about her.”
A sense of relief washes over Natasha at your words before she questions you with an amused smile.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
You respond with a disbelieving huff.
“Well, why did you assume it was her?” you counter.
“The two of you seemed so close during the festival, and at the bonfire, you were blushing a lot with her,” Natasha points out accusingly.
“That’s because she was teasing me about y—” you shut your mouth, stopping yourself before you finish. In the heat of defending yourself, you nearly revealed that all of your flustered reactions at that time were about Natasha.
Glancing over at her to see if she noticed your slip-up, you groan internally when you recognize her expression.
Natasha is grinning widely at the revelation, her eyes lighting up happily, as if she's finally solved a mystery.
When your hand covers your face in embarrassment, she knows you also figured out that she has already guessed what you meant to say.
At your slight blush, she can’t help but want to tease you a little bit more, tilting her head to try and catch your attention.
“You know, I think I heard you mention my name too. What were you about to say about me before I appeared?”
You purposely avoid meeting her eyes, wishing the ground would just swallow you up already.
Having Natasha suspect that your feelings for someone was actually for her was not something that you had expected to happen, especially considering how your previous discussion this morning ended.
Choosing to ignore her question, you point to the distance ahead and try to divert the conversation.
“I think we’re nearing the prison. We should probably concentrate and focus our attention on what we’ll do when we get there.”
Natasha's grin widen at your flustering and poor attempt to change the subject.
As you prepare to urge your horse forward, her hand reaches over to hold your reins again, stopping you.
Done with all the teasing, Natasha decides it was time for her to reciprocate some vulnerability, understanding that you might be feeling exposed at the moment. She nudges your arm gently to get your attention.
Once your eyes meet hers, Natasha begins softly, “Remember how I said I realized something? Turns out I'm facing a similar problem to what you had this morning.”
Confused, you furrow your brows, prompting Natasha to smile fondly at you. She takes a deep breath before admitting with a happy sigh.
“Apparently, there is someone I like, but I didn’t know how they feel about me,” Natasha echoes your words from this morning before tilting her head meaningfully, adding, "She’s one of my closest friends too."
Your eyes widen in surprise and uncertainty as you try to come up with a response. That warm feeling returns to your chest, but you try not to let that hope grow too fast.
At your silence, Natasha presses on, asking, "What should I do?"
Clearing your throat, you finally find your voice as you repeat the response she had given you, “Well, you said you would have just asked them directly about how they felt about you.”
“I did, didn't I?” Natasha says in contemplation. She pauses for a second before a small smirk forms on her face, and she focuses her intense gaze on you.
“So, Y/n, how do you feel about me?”
Your eyes search hers in disbelief at the implication of her question towards you. You try to spot any signs of her usual teasing, but there is only genuine anticipation and hope in her expression.
Caught off guard by the sudden realization, you stammer, “I—um…”
As Natasha waits for your response, the sound of rustling and footsteps from the shadows of the trees catches her attention, setting her instincts on edge.
Her body instantly straightens in alertness as she observes the surroundings.
At the faint sound of a mechanism engaging and then a quiet click, Natasha quickly grabs you, pulling you off your horse and onto the ground just as a heavy net shoots out from the trees.
Your horses whine in panic as the net soars past them, where it would have caught you and Natasha if the two of you hadn’t moved.
Instead, the complex mesh of thick ropes and weighted edges lands with a resounding thud on the ground, ensnaring nothing but air.
Natasha and you landed in a tangled heap, her hands instinctively shielding your head and body as the both of you roll to a stop.
The surrounding area seems to hold its breath for a second before the sound of hurried footsteps causes the two of you to rise quickly to your feet.
Three menacing men emerge from the trees, each brandishing a weapon as they advance toward you and Natasha, undeterred by the failure of their initial trap.
Natasha pulls her sword from its sheath and hands it to you with a smirk.
“It’s a good thing we practiced this morning, huh?” she teases lightly.
You roll your eyes exasperatedly as you take the sword. Natasha is more than capable of taking on these ruffians, but knowing that you are not defenseless will probably help her concentrate more on them than having to also worry about you.
The attackers quickly rush at the two of you, and Natasha immediately engages in combat with two of them simultaneously while the third one dodges her attacks and goes for you.
You raise the sword in defense as it clashes against his before the two of you engage in a fight.
He was bigger than you, but luckily, that just means that you are faster than his movements. You find yourself dodging and parrying his swings, but his experience with a sword allows him to defend from most of your attacks easily.
Seeing no way to break through his defense, you spot a large tree nearby and come up with an idea. While dodging his attacks, you discreetly move toward its direction, leading him closer.
Right as your back hits the trunk of the tree, a particularly powerful swing knocks the sword out of your hand.
The attacker grins victoriously, thinking you are cornered, and lunges forward with a powerful thrust. Swiftly ducking out of the way, you cause his sword to impale deep into the tree instead.
With him stunned at his stuck weapon, you knock his arm away from the sword and then swiftly hook your leg around the back of his knee, sweeping it out from under him.
Before he can recover, you quickly pick up your fallen sword and slam its hilt against the back of his head. Catching your breath, you let out a breath of relief when you see that he is unconscious.
Next thing you know, your body is pulled away from the man, and Natasha’s hands are moving gently across your face as she examines you.
Seeing that you are okay, she glances at the man on the ground before giving you an excited smile in realization.
“You were watching me that day,” Natasha points out happily. That last action that you just performed was almost exactly the same as her finishing move during her spar with Steve.
Based on your evasive behavior toward her at that time, Natasha had thought that you were avoiding her to the point where you didn’t even want to watch her train anymore.
You offer her sword back to her with a small roll of your eyes. Behind her, you see the other two attackers already on the ground, subdued.
“You already know that I’ve always liked watching you train," you remind her.
Instead of taking the sword, Natasha wraps her hand around yours and pulls you a step closer to her, bringing your body and face near hers. She playfully tilts her head at you with a teasing glint in her eyes.
“Weren't you just about to tell me about something else that you like before we were interrupted?” Natasha challenges.
You huff and shake your head in disbelief, realizing her intent.
Refusing to be the first to give in, especially with her confident and charming smirk in place, you decide to lean in even closer instead, bringing your face just a breath away from hers.
“I don’t know, Natasha, is there something you want to tell me?” you whisper challengingly, lowering your tone.
Natasha’s smirk widens in amusement as she maintains her position, seemingly unaffected, but looking closer, you notice a slight change in her eyes as they darken and briefly dart down to your lips.
Understanding dawns on you as you recall all the times you’ve seen that look on her before.
A charged tension fills the air as both of you stubbornly await the other to give in.
After a moment, Natasha finally releases a shaky breath and leans her head against yours, unable to resist anymore with you so close to her.
However, before any word can escape her parted lips, the tranquility is shattered by the sound of an arrow being released and a grunt emanating from the trees.
Turning in unison, you and Natasha witness the hidden attacker tumbling from the tree to the ground. Your gaze then shifts to the source of the arrow, revealing a familiar figure behind the bow.
“Clint,” Natasha greets before complimenting, "Nice shot."
He puts away his bow and approaches both of you with a raised brow.
“You two are adorable, but next time, please check your surroundings again before running into each other’s arms,” he advises.
Feeling a bit embarrassed, you clear your throat awkwardly and take a step back from Natasha.
However, her hand catches yours, keeping you close.
“Where are the two of you going? And without an escort, at that,” he ask, with the last part directed pointedly in reprimand at Natasha, who responds with a slight roll of her eyes.
"To the prison," you answer him.
"What about you? What are you doing running around with your bow again?" Natasha asks curiously.
Clint gestures to the attackers, unconscious on the ground.
“These men are from the Hydra's den, which happened to be suspiciously deserted when I passed by this morning,” he reveals with a serious tone.
Natasha frowns upon hearing the information. The central area where mercenaries usually occupy being suddenly empty is never a good sign.
“Rumlow?” Natasha asks in suspicion. This behavior is too unusual for the noble known for his affiliations with such groups to deny any knowledge of what is happening.
Clint shrugs unsurely, grimacing, “He’s not at his manor. My informant didn’t arrive at the usual meeting time either, so I came to investigate.”
He gestures towards you and Natasha.
“If you two are also heading to the prison, then it's better if I stay with you, especially after this ambush. I’m assuming you're taking Lady Y/n to see…,” Clint trails off when he sees Natasha discreetly shaking her head, signaling him to stop talking, but it is too late.
At his words, you quickly turn to Natasha with suspicion, raising your brow.
There’s no way Clint would know about Barnes so soon, so he must be referring to someone else at the prison, and judging by Natasha’s reaction, she knows exactly who he meant.
Natasha shoots a glare at Clint, who has suddenly taken an interest in looking up at the skies. She winces when she glances back at you and sees your accusatory stare.
With a resigned sigh, she admits, “There may have been a request…by that attacker from the cemetery to speak with you before he would answer any of our questions.”
“Natasha,” you say in reprimand for keeping such information concerning you a secret.
She raises her hands in defense, arguing, “He’s a threat against the kingdom, which means I can make decisions concerning him about you.”
“You can't use that excuse every time,” you tell her, poking her in the shoulder pointedly at her attempt of creating a loophole to indirectly protect you.
Natasha responds with an amused smile, catching your hands and interlocking them together. She raises her brows and remarks teasingly, "Yes, I can. I'm still your princess, remember?"
Rolling your eyes at her usual teasing reminder, you shove her lightly in response with your clasped hands, which elicits a chuckle from her.
Clint lets out a smile as he observes the close interaction between you and Natasha, commenting with an assuring nod, “Yeah, you two really are adorable together.”
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |
Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |
Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15
Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion
a/n: Thank you for reading! I may have been delusional saying that there would two/three more parts left of this series two parts ago, but it should be around two parts left after this one (i think).
Taglist: @lightwhoranoutoflight, @taliiiaasteria, @romanoffprentiss, @canvascoloredin, @silentwolfsstuff, @blacklightsposts, @arcturusseer, @presser24, @dvrkhcld, @jujuu23, @screechcat, @vivs46, @cd-4848, @youneversawmehereooooooo, @pancakefan7529, @confusedspaceotter, @natbelovasblog, @izzy-b09, @iamheartless, @mrsrushman, @fxckmiup, @natty-taffy, @2silverchain, @traveler-at-heart, @autorasexy, @natsxwife, @mviswidow, @slut4johansson
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Tardy, part 10
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11
Tara Carpenter x Fem Reader
Summary: Tensions rise as two of your friends are found in a suspicious position.
Warnings: Mentions of violence, angst
Word Count: 2.7k
A/N: I’m sorry if this sucks…writing this chapter sucked the life out of me.
Sitting in the ambulance doesn’t feel right.
You don’t think you deserve to be here, getting taken care of; while the rest of the gang goes on searching for clues. You lean against the van door, struggling to keep your eyes open.
You can’t bear to watch as the police lift Ethan’s body and wheel him into their black van.
You’re so tired that you can’t even cry.
You turn and bury yourself in the crook of Tara’s neck, trying to distract yourself with her warmth, her smell, her. She hasn’t left your side for a second since the paramedics arrived, and she doesn’t seem to mind you clinging desperately onto her either.
It might be how exhausted you are, or the fact that her comfort makes you feel so safe, it lulls you to sleep quickly.
It feels like a blink of an eye before you’re getting woken up to the sound of Sam interrogating Anika and Mindy.
“Found them just a couple minutes ago, they were knocked out,” Tara whispers to you, reading your face in the blink of an eye and knowing exactly what you were going to ask.
You inspect the pair carefully. They look like they’ve been through it.
Along with red marks all over her arms, Mindy has a little scrape of peeled skin at the top of her head.
Anika’s looks even worse.
There’s a huge purple-ish green-ish bump just right above her eyebrow. It’s in the shape of a perfect rectangle like someone had tried to knock her out with a brick.
“Where have you guys been?” Sam’s asking, sort of calm but sort of rough at the same time. There’s no doubt there is an underlying tone of suspicion in her voice.
Mindy sighs heavily, seeing right through the fake calm facade Sam’s putting on.
“Sam, we swear we do not know anything.” She’s saying, eyes wide. “We saw Ghostface coming, we ran! And the next thing you know we both got knocked out. I mean, look at the wound Sam. I know Ghostfaces have done this before, the whole hurt yourself thing. But I swear. Please, Sam.”
She looks put-together, all things considered. But Mindy’s always been one of those people, she goes through life swiftly; with nothing on her mind except for obscure indie horror films and her girlfriend.
She doesn’t sound like she’s lying, you’ll give her that.
“So you just left Danny alone?” Sam asks, clearly not as persuaded as you are.
Anika breathes loud, a sound of growing impatience.
“We were being chased. I’m sorry Sam but if it was between Mindy and Danny there’s no way I’m picking your boyfriend.” She explains, waving her hands wildly. “And we don’t even know if he’s Ghostface.” She ends, the last statement said in nothing but a hushed whisper.
Sam can’t say much about that. She breathes heavily, very much resembling the look of an angry dragon as she stands; towering.
You snuggle into Tara, deciding that you in fact do not want to be a part of this conversation.
She looks down at you and smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. Then she’s wrapping her arms around you and slipping a hand in your back pocket.
She wiggles around in there a moment before you feel her fish something out and shift away from you slightly, smiling.
“Now what’s this?” She’s whispering teasingly, quiet laughter shaking her body.
You crane your neck to look at it, but all you see is a backside of a tiny piece of paper, all yellow and old looking.
Paper? You don’t remember having paper in there.
Tara stills as she reads it, her heartbeat under you quickening at a rapid pace.
“What is it, babe?” You question, tightening your grip around her waist.
She tilts her whole body to show you what’s written on the paper.
Scribbled crazily on the note in thick red liquid, are five words.
NITEHALK CINEMA - TONIGHT. BE THERE.
You stare at it for a long time, like if you looked at it hard enough it’ll dissolve into thin air. The words look almost anthropomorphic, threatening to jump out and grab you by the neck.
“Huh.” You state, turning to blankly stare at Tara. She blinks back at you, obviously also taken aback.
You guys have a silent conversation until Tara carefully untangles herself from you and makes her way toward the older Carpenter.
You see her hand Sam the paper, all eyebrows furrowed and soft voices. Sam snatches it from her, but your view gets blocked off when a paramedic comes to stand in front of you.
You eye her a little wearily, confused as to why she’s standing there.
“Hey, hon.” She says, eyes crinkling at the sides when she smiles. She has some age, you can tell, but she still looks youthful and full of life.
You relax, almost melting at her term of endearment.
You were always a sucker for one of those. Especially if they were coming from an attractive middle-aged woman.
You quirk an eyebrow, signaling that she can keep speaking.
“So, I had a quick look at the wound on your stomach there. You’ve got an infection, sweetheart. It’s nothing to worry about if you get to the hospital immediately.” She tells you, sternly.
An infection?
You open your mouth to answer her, tell her that there’s no way in hell you have enough time to do that, but Tara’s heading back before you can say a thing; and you mumble a quick, “Don’t tell her anything.”
Because the last thing you need is Tara fussing over you when there should be Ghostface hunting to do.
“So what happened?” You ask your girlfriend, grabbing and positioning her so she’s standing in between your legs.
She doesn’t say a thing about it, but you see the blush start forming.
“We’re going to the damn theater together, and we’ll end the motherfucker. Once and for all.” Tara says and then tilts her head to the side, eyes flirting between you and the paramedic as if she’s just realizing she’s here. “Everything okay?”
You cut in quickly, shooting the paramedic a look and wrapping an arm around her waist for reassurance.
“Everything’s great.” You smile.
-
“Aren’t we rushing into this kind of fast? Like..why are we going to a random place Ghostface clearly wants us to go to?” Chad asks, his voice betraying his fear for the whole plan.
You’ll admit, it was a sort of sudden decision, even for you.
As soon as Tara showed Sam that paper, Sam turned into an animal. Asking for papers from the medical staff still around and gathering all of you to listen to her new plan; excluding Anika and Mindy.
“Seriously?” Anika’s saying, right after Sam informed her that they weren’t invited to listen in.
Sam doesn’t relent, just stares her down with those fiery eyes she only has reserved for situations like these.
“If you want me to believe you, you’ll have no problem staying out of this,” Sam says, nodding matter-of-factly.
“Well, I don’t want to be kept out of the loop and die.” Anika mumbles, but backs down nevertheless; walking back to join Mindy dejectedly on the sidewalk.
Now, you guys are stuffed into Sam’s van, ready to take on the weirdo in the white mask once again.
Funny, this is giving me déjà vu.
But after Sam’s monologue last night, where the older carpenter had talked about sacrificing herself, it seemed to ignite a fire deep in you; one that still wanted to fight.
You know you’re not the only one who’s feeling this way.
One quick glance at the gang and you can tell everyone’s feeling motivated. You can only hope it lasts so long.
Well, everyone except Chad.
You contemplate reaching over and gripping his hand for support, but wonder if it’ll be weird because you haven’t exactly had the best relationship with him, but decide fuck it, we’re friends, and do it anyway. He sends you a nervous but supportive smile back.
Sitting still hurts. Any kind of movement only worsens the pain. It’s like the conversation with the paramedic opened your eyes because you can feel every little thing bothering you now.
By the time you guys get to the theater, your anxiety’s at an all-time high.
Beads of perfectly shaped droplets fall from your forehead at a rapid pace, and your heart feels like it’s up in your throat.
You push open the doors and try to quell your fears by acting brave. The facade disappears immediately when you see what’s in the theater.
You pale.
It’s a shrine. A goddamn shrine of Ghostface.
“Well isn’t this nice? Ghostface has a fan.” Tara mumbles, pushing past you to see further in.
Everyone slowly files in and looks around curiously, murmuring soundlessly between pairs.
You sway as you walk further in, head whirling. You stumble and hit a glass box, and you have to grip it to steady yourself.
You stare at Sam unloading the big black bag shed packed full of weapons from just last night, getting prepared.
It doesn’t help with the haziness. You need to get your mind off this shit…you need something. Your head drops to peer inside the glass box.
You think your heart literally stops when you see the collection of pictures, paintings, a summarized biography, and a bloody knife. A familiar photo makes your breath hitch.
Stu Macher : The Second Ever Ghostface
You blink. Try and steady your heartbeat by closing your eyes and sucking in a deep breath.
Just when you feel like you’re about to pass out, Tara steps up beside you, putting a hand on your back to help steady you.
“You okay?” She whispers, a concerned expression painting her features.
You look down at her, flash her a tight-lipped smile.
“Yeah.” You try and say with as much positivity as you can muster.
She sees right through it, frowning so big you’d think you’d just told her you were Ghostface.
“I know when you lie to me.” She says pointedly, pouting.
You sigh, it’s no use to lie.
“No, I’m not doing great currently, but that’s not our top priority here Tar.” You murmur softly.
She punches you in the arm, with all the power of a marshmallow bouncing off you and crosses her arms.
“It’s a priority to me.” She huffs.
You raise an eyebrow. Tara wasn’t one to give you words of affirmation, but whenever she would, she’d get adorably shy.
She’s not this time. She’s standing tall and sure of herself, staring at you like if she lets her eyes off you for even a second you’ll run away.
You contemplate telling her about what the paramedic said.
You should, you know that, but you don’t want to worry her more than she already is.
She’s tired too, you can tell. It shows through the dark circles beneath her eyes and the way her hair is just a little more ruffled than usual.
Tomorrow I will, you think. After all this is over.
You settle for wrapping your arms around her and whispering an I love you in her ear.
Tara stills, obviously surprised at your confession. It surprises you too. You guys had never really said it before, even though you’re sure the both of you felt it.
“Um..I’m sorry. It just sort of came out, you don’t need to say it back. I understand.” You say quickly, sheepishly.
Tara quells your fears with a kiss, full of passion and urgency.
It feels like it always does, so goddamn dreamy. Her and her kisses never fail to send you straight into cloud 9.
When you pull back, you’re a little dazed.
“Well…okay.” You say, smiling goofily.
Her expression matches yours, albeit a little more composed. Her red cheeks and neck don’t fool you though.
“I love you too….idiot.” She says, adding the last bit to help put her racing heart at ease.
You snicker and shake your head. Your eyes drop down to the box again, but you don’t feel nearly as bad anymore.
“Man, I’m related to that guy? He looks like an alien dog.” You whine, only sort of half joking.
Tara chuckles heartedly and pats your back softly.
“He kinda does.” She murmurs.
“What does that mean…are you saying I look like that too?” You question, eyes wide and piercing, trying to look intimidating. To Tara, you look like a lost puppy.
“I never said that.” She quips, smirking. She’s teasing you.
“Yeah, but you didn’t rebut me so I’m led to believe you agree.” You press, forming your lips into a pout.
She reaches out to try and wipe it away, but you tilt your head; trying to fight for some semblance of control here.
She tries again, leaning to grab your face and kiss you, but you swerve as quickly as possible, a small part of you a little sad at the act.
The part that wants you to win this “argument” is bigger though. And it takes control once again.
“Nuh-uh. No kisses until you admit I don’t look like an alien dog and that I’m actually mighty gorgeous.” You say, proud smile; sure you’ve won.
“Oh really?” Tara smirks, leaning back until her back is pressed against the box and your hands on both sides of her waist.
She calls your bluff. “I don’t think you’d be able to take it; not kissing me.”
You have to bite back a gulp at her boldness.
God this girl was going to be the death of you.
You challenge her, happy to have your beloved banter with your girlfriend back.
“Funny…I vaguely remember you being the one who couldn’t keep her hands
to herself for a second. And who was the one that was so impatient the first time we had sex she tripped over and landed face first into the mat?” You tease, watching Tara’s cheeks heat up.
“Hey! We promised not to talk about that.” She grumbles, disregarding her bet from 5 seconds ago and tilting up to meet your lips.
You smile against her lips, victorious.
When she sees it, she huffs slightly, mouth still connected to yours.
“Whatever.” She says, pulling back.
“Guys!” Sam’s voice booms through the theater, echoing a couple of times before fading out.
Creepy.
“Get over here! Safety in numbers, remember? Who knows where Ghostface is? For all we know, he’s already in here watching us.” She continues to yell, watching as you and Tara saunter over; hand in hand.
Her words send chills down your body, and you’re suddenly aware again of your beating heart.
You look behind Sam, seeing multiple Ghostface mannequins standing tall. It’s scary how much eeriness some pieces of fabric can create.
“Well, isn’t this a dainty place to be having our conversation?” You chuckle nervously, turning your head to the left, then the right; where you see nothing but all 9 Ghostface mannequins from the Stab franchise, or in this nightmare reality, real life.
“Can you just shut-“ Sam begins, obviously done with your bullshit attempts at lightening the mood.
The lights turn off in the theater all at once, leaving you guys in complete darkness; all stunned.
“Up.” Sam finishes, and you can already hear her feet start to shuffle as she looks and grabs around.
You feel her rough hands as she grabs at your wrist and pulls, too hard for your liking.
“Sam- Could you be a little gentler please?” You huff, trying to weasel your way out her grip.
“What are you talking about?” Sam voices, but it feels kind of far away from you. The grip around your hand suddenly feels weighted. “I’m not touching you Y/N.”
Before you can react, the hand is coming up to your mouth and pressing hard, muffling any sounds that’ll come out.
“YN? Baby? What’s going on?” Tara asks, worry seeping through her words.
You try and scream, or say anything, but the sound dies in your throat when you realize there’s something pressed against your nose.
It’s a cloth: a smelly one at that. You realize what it is immediately, all those true crime documentaries finally coming in handy. Chloroform.
The fumes are practically shoved up your nose, and you feel your knees buck underneath you.
Fuck, Tara.
You wiggle and thrash around, but nothing works, the chemical’s doing its job, because in the next second; you’re gone.
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