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aliensupastar · 6 months

Text

i wouldn’t ask you

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You try to break your promise. Carmy won’t let you. Follow-up to “shouldn’t feel like a crime”

Part I Part II

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, depiction of an eating disorder, food issues, heart-to hearts, arguments, swearing

A/N: once again, thank y'all so much for the love on parts one and two of this fic, it brings me so much joy!! also, im terribly sorry for how long it took to write this. school happened and i think it got away from me a little bit, i did a lot of rewrites, and it's shorter than i'd like it to be but it’s something i’m finally satisfied with, and i hope you guys enjoy it! to anyone who’s sent me asks, left comments or replies telling me they connected with this fic, i hope it continues to bring you comfort as it has for me. i can’t express to you enough how much all your responses have meant to me. this will be the last part for this lil series, but im grateful to anyone who’s read n supported it. title insp by "i wouldn’t ask you" by clairo, gif by riickgrimes <3

Logically, you know that healing — if that’s what you could call what you were trying to do — isn’t linear. You’ve heard it a thousand times, and on some level, you know it’s true. Knowing it doesn’t stop the shame you feel when you start skipping the train, opting instead to walk, or on shittier days, run to work.

At first you thought you’d been able to escape the anxiety that came with eating anything you didn’t know the exact calorie count of, that you’d been able to eat Carmy’s spaghetti without complication. In retrospect, it had merely been delayed, the calm and warmth afforded to you by Carmy’s presence wearing off as soon as you’d gotten into bed that night; you’d laid awake for another hour, paralyzed by your own panic.

The only solution you found fit was to force yourself into physical activity, making your travel to and from work ten times more miserable, waking up an hour and a half earlier than usual just to get to the restaurant on time and still have ten minutes to freshen up and change into your uniform. You at least managed to make the change in your routine go unnoticed, still looking presentable once it was time to open for service, or at least you thought so.

“Did you run here?” Sydney asks one morning, spotting you right as you clocked in and rushed to your locker to pull out your uniform.

“Uh, yeah, I did.” You’re a little too breathless to come up with an excuse, to properly deflect her concern and surprise.

“Okay…” She watches as you shove your other belongings into the locker space haphazardly. “Does that, like, happen often, or-“

“No,” You say, too quickly, shaking your head. “Just, uh, don’t tell Carmy?”

You look up at her, eyes pleading, hoping she accepts this one request without question, hoping she can disregard something just this one time.

“Tell Carmy what?” Hearing your boss’s voice makes you jump in shock, as he comes around the corner and spots you, hair messy and sweat still dripping down your temple.

Your skill for being unnoticeable is escaping you, that much is clear. You’re essentially caught red-handed, a deer in headlights, eyes bouncing between Sydney and Carmy as you struggle to come up with something, anything to respond with. But Sydney swoops in just seconds after you freeze, granting you mercy, this one time.

“Tell you to mind your own business, chef,” She says, her tone light-hearted so that you know to force out a laugh, and Carmy takes it. He gives a half-smile and shakes his head, heading over to his prep station and as soon as he’s out of sight, you look back at Sydney.

“Thank you,” You whisper as you head for the bathroom, uniform in hand, and she nods, still looking concerned but thankfully, dropping it.

Carmy’s the one who won’t drop it. It stays on his mind all day, even after you’ve changed clothes and fixed your hair and erased any trace of the mess you looked that morning; every free moment he has, he spends thinking of you.

He wants to believe that you’d simply missed your train. An innocent, easy mistake. But the way you avoid meeting his eyes during service hours, no matter how many times he tries to get your attention, or get you to just look at him and confirm that you’re okay, tells him it’s more than that.

He rushes through closing duties that night, just to make sure he’s good to leave before you finish closing up the front with Richie. He waits, sits in his office chair pretending to be busy until he sees you heading for the lockers, ready to clock out, and then moves to lean as casually as possible against the doorway.

“You want a ride home?” He asks, interrupting you as you pull clothes out from the locker; the clothes you were wearing this morning, he realizes, a sweatshirt and biker shorts. Like you expect to break a sweat on the way home, too.

“Nope. Thank you, chef, I’m good.” You barely even look over at him as you say it, and Carmy has to stop himself from making a face, making his displeasure visible.

“I really don’t mind,” He tries again, but you just close your locker door and shake your head, ready — and desperate — to change out of your uniform in the bathroom before it’s time to lock up. You put on what you hope is an easy smile, but it comes off tense.

“I’m okay, Carm, really. It’s not like it’s raining-“

“Chef,” He interrupts you, suddenly stern. “C’mon.”

He nods his head motioning for you to follow him, and it’s clear from his tone that there will be no room to argue.

You trail behind him while he locks up, and on the way out to his car, you can feel that frustration building up inside you again. The same resentment and irritation you felt in the hospital, when he wouldn’t take your bullshit excuses in the same way that nurse or your other coworkers would, it rises and rises till you’re gripping your backpack strap a little too tight and shutting the car door a little too hard.

You’re grateful, at the very least, that he says nothing when tears start to spill out and down your face as he drives you home.

You sit in silence for a minute when Carmy pulls into your building’s parking lot. You can’t bring yourself to leave at first, part of you still craving to savor his presence for as long as you can, even if the other part of you is too angry to even look at him.

“You wanna talk?” He asks quietly.

“Nope.” His question is enough to set you off, pushing the car door open and furiously wiping away your tears as you haul yourself out.

Logically, Carmy knows it might be best to leave you alone for tonight. Let you calm down and attempt reconciliation tomorrow morning. Knowing it doesn’t stop the feeling that he can’t just leave you alone, and let you walk away upset.

“Hey,” He calls out, opening his own door and moving to follow you. “C’mon-“

“Fuck you, Carmen.” You spit out.

He’s undeterred, even if you don’t turn back to face him once, refusing to acknowledge him tailing you the entire way up to your apartment.

You don’t tell him to leave you alone, to stop following you, to fuck off. You don’t even slam your front door in his face like he half-expects you to. Instead it hangs open as you storm into your living room, a silent invitation. An invitation Carmy doesn’t hesitate to accept, stepping through your door and carefully closing it behind him.

He’s still wracking his brain on what to say, clueless on how to stop the tears flowing down your face as you toss your backpack down and meekly lower yourself to sit on the floor between your couch and the coffee table, knees pulled into your chest.

“Will you just fuckin’ talk to me?” He finds himself pleading with you again after a minute, but his helplessness in the face of your distress makes his words come out callous, and you just scoff.

“Don’t be a dickhead, Carmy.”

“I’m a dickhead? I-I’m the dickhead, for giving a fuck?” You lift your head to glare at him, and you can see that he wants to match your anger; all the tell-tale signs of an upcoming screaming match appearing in his features, scrunching up his face as he repeats your words back to you, and you know you’re not being fair. You promised him you’d let him in, allow him to help stop you from going off the deep end again, and yet you’re the one resisting him. You wish he’d let the frustration on his face overtake him, walk out your door and leave you alone with your mind.

He doesn’t, no matter how much you will him to. His eyes meet your own, filled with misplaced ire, and all he does is lean his head back and sigh, running a hand over his face and forcing himself to curtail the urge to give in to your bait.

“You don’t wanna talk, I’ll talk,” He starts tentatively, before saying maybe the last thing you’d expect: “I’m sorry.”

Your narrowed eyes widen, the contempt in them turning to pure shock, but he barely notices.

“I didn’t mean to- if I went too far, the other day, with the spaghetti. I didn’t mean to set you off like that. I’m sorry.” The absolute sincerity in his voice as he apologizes for something you know isn’t on him — it’s too much.

You’d love to pass the blame off on somebody else. If you could find a single other person to hold accountable for causing the near-constant state of discomfort that you’ve been stuck in for weeks, the distress of living in your own body, you think you’d jump at the chance. But you can’t bring yourself to do it to the one person who’s offered to take the fault away from you, because even now, after you’ve lashed out at him, he’s deliberately gentle with you.

You can see Carmy is ready to move towards your front door, you’ve sat here for too long without giving him a response, weeping silently. And maybe that would be the right thing to do after breaking your promise, letting him worry over you till he thinks he’s the one who owes you an apology. But selfishly, you reach up and grasp his arm before he can even turn to leave, gently tugging him down to sit with you, and he lets you.

“I’m sorry,” You start once he’s settled next to you, your voice still thick with tears. “I know what we talked about in the hospital. I haven’t been- I fucked all that up, I know, I’m sorry.” He’s shaking his head, looking like he wants to refute you, but you continue on.

“I just… I’m so fucking scared,” You nearly choke on your words, but it’s a relief to get them out, and suddenly you can’t stop the rest from spilling from your mouth. “I’m scared of getting better. I can’t stand the thought of it, I don’t even- I don’t know what I’d be for, if I wasn’t like this all the time. And it’s fucking embarrassing. That’s all I feel, all the time, just- constant fear, and shame. I can’t fucking stop myself.”

You take a pause, doing your best to breathe deep and avoid Carmy’s intent gaze, so you don’t lose your nerve.

“We were good, for a bit, and I wasn’t so… out of control. But then I fucked it, and I-I couldn’t just, tell you. Felt like, for once there was someone who understood, and I just wanted to keep the rest of it out of sight, I guess.”

It’s the most you’ve expressed to anyone about this. You think maybe you’ve gone too far, that maybe now you’ll have alienated the one person you’ve been honest with in years. But when you finally look up at Carmy, he’s nodding thoughtfully, no trace of judgment or pity in his expression.

“I don’t.” He says carefully. “I don’t really understand. I-I don’t think I could, uh-” He pauses, clasping one hand over the other tightly, like it pains him to force his words out, too. “I guess, growin’ up, food was basically a love language. It was how I bonded with Mikey, it’s why I wanted to do this job in the first place. So, to avoid food… I don’t think I can imagine what that’s like.”

All you can do is nod. You shouldn’t have made him listen to you vent your emotions, you should’ve let him walk out your door-

“But, I’d like to try. If that’s what you want.” He says, interrupting your spiral. “I just need to know you’re safe. Shutting me out like this – it’s bullshit. I’m not gonna just- stop caring. Even if it’s ugly. Just don’t shut me out.”

His earnestness practically shoots you in the chest, filling you with that warm, familiar feeling that usually comes with his presence. You want to push against it, you haven’t earned it back, it’s too damn much.

“Even if I… end up in the hospital again?” You say, trying to keep your tone light, but you can’t keep the pleading out of your voice.

“I’d drive you to the hospital a hundred times.” Carmy replies, completely genuine, and now you can’t push back against the urge to throw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest.

You don’t know how long you sit there, on the hard floors of your living room, arms tight around each other, breathing together. All you know is that you don’t want him to leave; he makes no move to go.

a few people asked to be tagged on this part, so here you go! @rexorangecouny @moonlight-sonata99 @kpopgirlbtssvt

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto angst #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #hurt/comfort #angst #my writing #the shrimp that fried that rice

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 8 months

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i absolutely love the prompt you have "I'm pretty sure we almost broke up last night" cause major swiftie and I will only read that like she says it in stay stay stay so can you pretty please to conrad x reader with that prompt when you get the chance tysm take ur time

Silly little one I forgot I started writing a week ago

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The best relationship advice your mother ever gave to you was that you should never leave a fight unresolved or go to bed mad at each other. You and Conrad had been pretty good at doing that…until last night.

To be fair, the whole situation had everyone on edge.

After his exam, you and Conrad emptied his dorm and hit the road. He had slept less than five hours last night so you kindly offered to drive while he caught up on sleep. Everything was going well, until you accidentally took a wrong turn and ended up in a totally different place. You tried to get back on the right road, but panicked when you couldn’t figure a way…then Conrad woke up, grumpy and still tired, and started criticizing your driving skills.

To add to the situation, rain and thunder decided to join you. A little rain and thunder didn’t scare Conrad, but they decided to close the highway, forcing the two of you to stay at a motel for the night.

You showered and changed out of your wet clothes, while Conrad did his own thing. When you came out, he was there, in his pajamas, taking out extra blankets from the closet and setting them on the floor.

Getting what he was doing, you stopped him. ‘’You’re not sleeping on the floor. Don’t be ridiculous.’’

You had a fight, but you weren’t that mad at him. He just struck a nerve.

Conrad's tired eyes met yours, but he didn’t say anything as he moved his pillow to the bed. He drew back the covers and laid down, his back turned to you.

A knot formed in your stomach, hurt, and you turned off the lamp, plunging the room in the dark without exchanges of ‘goodnight’s. Rare were the occasions where you and Conrad were sharing a bed and alone, but instead of taking advantage of it, you were caught in an uncomfortable silence where neither of you found sleep.

You tried to close your eyes, but couldn’t. So you listened to the loud rumbles of thunder and the tapping of the rain until your eyes couldn’t stay open.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, Conrad spoke.

‘’What I said earlier, I didn’t mean it,’’ he said in the quiet of the room, knowing you weren’t asleep either. ‘’I’m sorry. You’re not the worse driver I know.’’

A tired smile twisted on your lips...and you felt yourself drifting to sleep.

When you woke up, the morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the motel room. The rain from last night had finally subsided, meaning you’ll be able to get back on the road and go home.

Beside you, Conrad was still sleeping. You watched him for a moment, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his dark hair fell over his forehead. It might sound dumb, but you missed him.

You heard a muffled groan, getting excited as Conrad slowly stirred. His eyes blinked open, struggling to adjust to the daylight coming from the window, and you chuckled. You didn’t think of drawing the curtains all the way last night.

‘’Morning,’’ you greeted with a soft smile, brushing hair from his face.

"I'm pretty sure we almost broke up last night," he said, his voice a little deeper from sleep.

You rolled your eyes. ‘’You’re exaggerating.’’

Conrad sighed, looking up at the stucco ceiling. ‘’We had this big fight over something so stupid—’’

‘’Real relationships are not perfect, Con. Even the ones who seem perfect aren’t. They fight with their partners and that’s totally normal. We’re not gonna break up because I didn’t pay enough attention and took a wrong turn. That’s ridiculous.’’

There was a silent pause, then Conrad laughed.

—

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#conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher fanfic #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty

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jujutsubaby · 3 months

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after hours (part 4)

☆ pairing: toji fushiguro x afab!reader, satoru gojo x afab!reader ☆ summary: you and toji FINALLY have some alone time...things are getting steamy in the fushiguro household...meanwhile, satoru gojo cannot keep his hands to himself, no matter how hard he tries. ☆ warnings: 18+. MINORS DNI !! oral sex (f!recieving & m!recieving) deepthroating, fingering, spanking, penetrative sex, slight power dynamic, dirty talk, hints of a threesome, masturbation, dirty fantasies ☆ tags: modernAU, babysittingAU ☆ a/n: OK IT"S FINALLY HERE U HORNDOGS <3 the toji smut i wrote once again with one hand 😈 i'm excited for the next chapter where i can finally write some gojo smut hehe 🤭 🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤

"be right back, gonna tuck megumi into bed really quick," toji says to before giving you a quick peck on the lips and heading upstairs.

you sit on toji’s couch, twiddling your thumbs, quite honestly feeling excited for the rest of the night. you’ve wanted this for long it feels like you manifested it and you just couldn’t wait any longer. you close your eyes and sigh deeply, imagining how toji’s hands would feel sliding up and down your body and shiver slightly. your hand starts wandering lower and lower down your stomach, but your thoughts are abruptly interrupted by your phone dinging. you immediately frown. getting a text from satoru is always an immediately boner kill…sometimes.

satoru: wyd wanna come over?

ugh, how many times do i have to tell him that i’m busy tonight? you quickly type a response.

y/n: dude i alr told u i was busy tn remember 😒

satoru: are u fr gonna let toji’s broke ass dick you down instead of hangin w me?? sad 😔

y/n: yes 🙃 best offer i’ve had tn

speech bubbles show up, indicating satoru is typing, and continues to type for what feels like hours (it was 30 seconds).

satoru: i guarantee u i can blow ur back better than he can. just ask anyone 😈

you stare at the text dumbfounded. what the actual FUCK is he on? you’re honestly so annoyed that he would try to slide into your thoughts right now, right before toji blows your mind.

y/n: kys

you put your phone on vibrate and mute satoru’s texts, not caring how he responds back. you go back to the fantasy you were thinking of before his intrusion and your hand starts sliding down your body once again. you’re imagining toji’s arms holding you tight and how skillful he was with his tongue last night. he never properly showed love to your tits, and you imagine him continuing what he was doing earlier in the night with your delicate buds. and satoru choking you while it happens. wait, what the fuck?

your hand immediately stops, shocked by your intrusive thoughts, but your lower body betrays you, soaking your panties.

as if your heart wasn't beating fast enough, you hear toji come down the stairs and you get up to meet him. he holds a hand out for you.

"have you ever been to my bedroom?" he asks, leading you up the stairs.

you giggle, excited to see toji's bedroom for the first time. "i haven't! i'm so excited! i feel like a person's bedroom says a lot about them and i just love-"

you're left speechless as you enter toji's bedroom, which is just plain sheets on a king sized mattress without a headboard, and a measly bedside drawer and dresser. you think you saw one of the two on the sidewalk last spring for spring cleaning.

"this is where the magic happens, pumpkin," toji says slyly. "i know, i know, contain yourself."

"there's no way you live like someone who's in kappa sigma. be so fucking for real right now, toji. you're literally a father..." you say, still in absolute shock over over his room. you vowed back in undergrad you would never hook up with a frat guy ever again and here now is this mid-30s man who you were about to link up with that doesn't have a headboard. you look up at toji nonplussed.

"i guarantee that you won't give a shit about how this place looks once i'm done with you." with that, toji lifts you up and starts kissing you deeply, tongue feverishly exploring yours. he slams your body down into his bed, and you're surprised that his bed is softer than you expected. your body melts into his sheets and you never break contact with his mouth, moaning into the kiss.

he breaks the kiss and flips you over, causing you to squeak. "let's get this thing off of you," toji growls, his eyes filled with hunger as he fiddles with the zipper on your back. you arch your back out, your ass meeting his hard member, and he hisses at the slight touch.

"calm down, pumpkin...so eager and slutty for me..." toji whispers as he finally undoes the buttons and zippers. it practically takes everything toji has to not rip your jumpsuit to shreds as he turns you over and peels your jumpsuit off of you, exposing your chest and your perky nipples.

he wastes no time and immediately latches on to one while kneading the other, and you let out a wanton moan, gripping his hair. the things he's doing with his tongue is sending electricity throughout your body and your back arches in pleasure.

toji moves on to your other nipple, and lightly bites and rolls it between his mouth, causing you to yell out a pathetic "toji, please..."

"what do you need from me, pumpkin?" he asks, lifting his head up and locking eyes with you.

"n-need...i need you in my mouth." you whimper, feeling so helpless to the lustful indulgence you were giving into.

toji grunts and places your hand on his hard member and you use your fingers to unzip his pants and palm him through his boxer briefs, whining for more. "can't keep my pumpkin waiting, can i?" he says, as he pulls his underwear down and his throbbing member bounces out.

your eyes widen at the sheer size of him, but you were never a quitter. your mouth salivates as your fingers wrap around him and start to move up and down. you kiss the tip and leave a trail of saliva connecting your lips to his throbbing member, before fully engulfing him in your mouth.

you hear toji let out a guttural moan before his hands fixate themselves as your makeshift ponytail. "just like that...yeah...you're taking me so well, pumpkin..." he says softly between throaty sighs. he starts moving your head up and down at a faster pace and you moan around him.

the vibrations of your constant moans sends toji into a frenzy. "fuck, y'think you can deepthroat me? think your little mouth can handle that?" he asks between deep breaths.

your eyes look up to meet his. you give him the green light, and toji wastes no time picking up the pace and fucking your mouth. your whimpers against him only motivates him to go faster. you don't think your mouth has ever been this full (and you're sure it's gonna be bruised tomorrow morning), and tears start to brim your eyes and mascara slowly smudges down your face. you're determined to take his full length into your mouth, or at least gag trying until he's close.

you should've known better than trying to fit all of him in. he's so incredibly huge so you don't get to take in his full length, and you end up gagging on him a few times. soon enough, toji finds a pace that allows your tongue to skillfully lick and suck his entire length while your hand takes over what you can't.

"f-fuck, pumpkin, you keep goin' like this i'm gonna get close..." toji says, his eyes closed, face flushed, and his mouth in an o-shape, taking in the sensations your mouth was performing. it really was a spectacularly lewd performance, as toji cannot recall another time another girl was so skilled with their tongue. none of the girls he fucked before compared to you.

you continue your ministrations, and just as toji warned before, he gets dangerously close before he abruptly pulls his soaked, leaking member off your mouth. you cry out at the loss of him inside your mouth, but finally relax your jaw as toji starts kissing your neck all the way up to your mouth, and then back to your neck.

as he starts to bite your neck and leaves, what you think will be, a giant purple patch tomorrow morning, you wantonly cry out. "t-toji~ please, i can't handle this anymore," as tears start to well up in your eyes from deepthroating him. "i-i n-need you i-inside m-mee~" you beg. your mind can barely form a coherent thought, as all you could think about was how you wanted to feel him. all of him.

toji lets out a breathy chuckle as he starts kissing you down your body, slowly removing the rest of your jumpsuit and leaving you in your - oh my god? why the hell are you wearing your pink panties with burger prints all over them?!

"ohmygod, sorry i totally forgot to change into sexy pant- ohh, f-fuck~"

toji kisses your wet clothed core deeply, hitting your bundle of nerves, causing you to stop mid-sentence. "these are fuckin' adorable, pumpkin," toji coos, his eyes never once leaving your clothed core, hypnotized by the sight of your wet panties sticking to your core in front him.

he slowly takes off your burger panties, and locks eyes with you, before his tongue flicks across your bundle of nerves, causing you to practically scream at how sensitive you were. toji smirks, knowing he quite literally hit the right nerve, before diving into it.

"o-ohh, f-fu-, don't stop, pleaaase~" you whine as you hold his head in place between your legs. you grind your core up and down, feeling your sensitive nub shoot pleasure through all part of your body and causing your toes to curl.

"you know, i think we forgot to get dessert tonight...", toji teases as he switches to his fingers rubbing rough circles on your bundle of nerves. "you taste better than anything we would've got..."

you breaths become heavier and shorter as you feel the familiar dam build up begging to release. "remember when i made you cum all over my face last time princess? let's do it two for two," toji says between licks to your sensitive and throbbing core.

"y-yes p-please, toji~" you nod, already feeling yourself coming undone. "i-i'm about to...please~" you beg, unable to stop the dam from breaking and you release over toji's mouth once again. toji takes in every part of you, making sure you ride your release until the very end, almost to the point of overstimulating you.

you to jerk your hips away from toji's mouth due to how overstimulated you got. satisfied, toji leans up to give you a wet open mouthed kiss that you whimper into pathetically, unable to properly prop yourself up after your first release. before you're able to say anything, toji flips you over on your chest and pulls your exposed ass up as he slips off his underwear.

"been waiting my turn for ages, pumpkin," he mumbles, as he licks his two fingers before sliding them inside your entrance, stretching and prepping your for his length. you let our a throaty moan as you feel yourself already ready for another release over just his fingers.

"think you can handle me, pumpkin?" he asks, taking his fingers out of you and you mewl at the loss of contact.

you bit your lip and widen your eyes as you look at him. his pupils were dilated and filled with lust, and you bit back a moan. "i can take you," you pout, feigning displeasure with toji's diffidence towards you. can you though? you've never had something as big as him inside you, and you knew it. but once again, you were never a quitter, always a pleaser.

he wordlessly chuckles, as he slowly teases your entrance with his tip. you shake your hips back and forth, eager to feel him fully inside you, and toji obliges, unapologetically sliding his full length inside your eager entrance.

he anticipates your long moan, and immediately slaps his hand over your mouth, and your cries end up muffled and muted. toji hisses at the way your walls immediately tighten around him.

"fuck, pumpkin. never met anyone tighter than you..." he grunts, slowly and rhythmically moving himself against your ass. you feel him hit the sensitive patch inside you, and your moans are muffled even further as toji tightens his hand around your mouth harder.

after pounding into you for a bit more, he releases his hand from your mouth, causing you to slur out toji's name. "t-toji~ i'm getting sooo clo-"

you're cut off by toji switching angles, as he pushes your back down, creating a harsh arch of your back. your face sinks headfirst into the pillows, and your ass flush against the base of toji's throbbing member. your whimpers are muffled against the pillows, as toji masterfully and ruthlessly starts to slam into you in and out. he's getting close, but he's determined to hold out until you are too.

toji's hand slips around your waist and his fingers start circling your bundle of nerves, causing you whimper and grab the bedsheets until your knuckles turn white. he switches up the sensation by giving your ass a harsh slap, earning a high pitched moan out of you. seeing the red palm imprint on your ass cheek spurs him on to hammer into you even faster.

you feel the familiar tight coil starting inside your core, spreading all over your body. your toes and fingers curl, and you're a moaning crying mess. your makeup is definitely staining toji's sheets but your don't even care. no one does.

toji alternates between relentlessly massaging your delicate nub and playfully slapping your ass as he's teetering closer and closer to the edge.

he feels your walls clench up around him and can tell your close. "need a release, pumpkin?" he says through gritted teeth and deep breaths.

you don't even understand what you say, your words slurred from the ecstasy of toji's sublime movements. how is he managing to hit your g-spot every single time?

"nnghh~ i-i'm g-gonna c-cu-"

you cry out in ecstasy as your walls begin to tighten around him as you feel the tight coil in your stomach unfurl with fireworks and spots blurring your vision as you have your second, and strongest, release of the night. your release directly results in toji's as you milk his hard throbbing pulsating member and he fills you up. he lets out quick, deep, guttural groans as he spills all over you. thank god you're on birth control.

you both are left breathing heavily, as you turn on your back, legs still twitching from how hard your body gave in to toji, who bounces into the spot next to you breathing heavily. you feel toji's seed slowly seeping out of you, but you can't bring yourself to care; you're far too fucked out to think a coherent thought.

he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close as you snuggle into his neck, just like a puzzle piece finding it's place. you sigh and close your eyes, hearing nothing the sound of your breaths in unison slowing down.

"that...was...so fun..." you whisper slowly in between breaths.

toji airily chuckles. "it was, wasn't it, pumpkin?" toji starts massaging your scalp an playing with your hair and you both sit in the comfortable companionable silence you both appreciated.

toji doesn't know when your silence turned into slumber, but when he gets up, he sees your eyes closed with your mouth slightly open, your mind somewhere far away. he knows he shouldn't wake you, but he also knows you really should use the bathroom before falling asleep. deciding on letting you sleep a bit more before waking you, he tries his best to slowly get out of the creaky bed and head to the washroom.

toji won't lie, he's also incredibly fucked out, and his eyes are droopy as he tries to stay awake while he brushes his teeth and gets out an extra tooth brush for you. once he's done, he approaches you silently and lightly shakes you to wake you up.

"mmmghh, stoppp i'm trying to sleep..." you mumble, clearly unreceptive to waking up.

"i know, pumpkin," toji coos, rubbing your body up and down, "y'gotta pee after sex, i read it somewhere i think..."

you sleepily giggle at his concern with your eyes closed as you lay on your back. "ugh, fine...but you have to keep my spot warm for me." you warn, as toji helps you get up.

"left you a toothbrush on the counter. it's the blue one."

"gotcha," you say with a thumbs up as you swing your legs over the bed. as you take the first step, you double down over the pain you feel in your abdomen and lower stomach and yelp.

a concerned toji runs over to your side, only to start grinning and laughing. he leans down your level. "ohhh, someone's sore..." he teases.

"shut up toji~" you yell in a loud whisper, frowning at him laughing at your pain. "this is all your fault," you pout.

"okay, go pee and brush your teeth and i'll make it up by playing w your hair again until you sleep," he promises, giving your ass a quick slap. you give him a playfully dirty look before heading to the bathroom to finish your business.

while brushing your teeth, you send quick text to shoko letting her know you're planning to stay the night with toji. immediately, you get a text back from her acknowledging it, but even more surprisingly, you get a text from satoru:

satoru: so ur spending the night at his place, huh? that good? 🤨

no way they're together right now. you furrow your eyebrows and send a quick text back.

y/n: what are you doing w shoko

satoru: i'm at ur apartment stupid i told u i got bored

y/n: stay away frm my room

satoru: too late i'm going to do 3/3 of my jerk offs in ur bed tn :/

you don't know why you snorted. i mean it was a little funny. you shake your head and finish brushing your teeth. you look at your reflection in the mirror and notice all the mascara and eyeliner streaks on your face and have to hold back a laugh. you're looking so ridiculous and fucked out, and you know shoko and utahime would find it hilarious (and partially very happy for you for having a fun time). you grab your phone and take a selfie of your makeup streaked face and send it to your group chat with them.

y/n: [1 Photo] it happened ya'll 🤪

utahime and shoko both immediately respond:

utahime: u deserve this queen u manifested it 💓

shoko: i do NOT want to hear that ur down bad ever again after this

shoko: also !! [1 Photo]

shoko sends you a screenshot of her and utahime's villager avatars on their animal crossing island, cottagecore witchy theme and all, holding hands. this might possibly be the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life and send at least 10 hearts in response.

you let out a big yawn and head back to bed. you have an early morning tomorrow, as you made plans with your friends to meet up at cafe amanai again to dissect the parent teacher conference. you can't remember why you were so nervous about tonight -- it went just as lovely as you hoped (aside from all the dumb texts from satoru).

"gotcha this also so you're not cold," toji mumbles, half alseep, pointing to his national park t-shirt on the bed. you put it on, and it's the perfect oversized fit for you. oh my god, it's kinda cute...should you keep it?

you get into bed and bonk toji's head lightly. "hey! you said you would play with my hair," you chide, facing away from him, but pushing your body snugly against his. he pulls you even closer, accepting his role as the big spoon, and mumbles something you can't hear starts playing with your lightly.

you hum in contentment. "by the way, this t-shirt..." you yawn. "it's...so dilfy."

"hmm..." toji says half alseep, "bet you say that to all the dilfs you fuck..."

you feel so warm inside when you realize you can hear his smile in that response, even half asleep. "you got me," you joke, as the sound of toji's breathing and his fingers caressing your scalp sends you into a blissful slumber within minutes.

meanwhile, at your apartment, shoko and utahime are bidding farewell to suguru and satoru. utahime is trying not to rush them out, but she really doesn't want her night to be more soiled by satoru than it already is, and shoko agrees.

satoru drives himself and suguru back, mostly in silence since it is past midnight, and they are both incredibly tired. once back at their apartment, like clockwork, satoru finds himself doing the motions to get ready for bed.

his head plops into his silk pillow and despite being obviously tired and having an early morning of gossip sessions, work, and classes ahead of him, he cannot stop thinking about the photo he sneakily saw of you on shoko's phone -- the one of your mascara running down your face.

if he recalls correctly, you didn't have a neck hemline in the photo either, so you were probably naked too. he's trying really hard not to think about him fucking your mouth like that. no, he really is, he swears his hands are just reaching down his boxers magically. he's also getting hard despite trying to replace your face with literally any other girl he's slept with, but it always reverts back to you.

satoru always makes jokes about blowing your back out, and he knows he's joking...right? it's just a cheeky joke he makes with one of his best friends, satoru thinks, as he's starts stroking himself more passionately.

his breath hitches, and he imagines you- no, not you, that, uh, other girl...what's her name? jessica? he imagines jessica's face tearing up as he casually rams himself deeper into your throat - no, jessica's throat!

fuck, satoru thinks, reaching closer to the edge of no return. at this point, he's shameless as he let's his fantasies run wild. he thinks of you on your knees, tongue sticking out, waiting for him to spill all over your fucked out face. satoru climaxes hard, and wishes nothing more than to watch you clean it up with your mouth.

god, satoru knows it's wrong but you both have bad habits of blurring the lines of your friendship...

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supernovafics · 7 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k words

warnings: explicit language, a lil bit of angst w/ a wholesome ending<3

summary: in which you and steve take a late-night trip to your favorite diner

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

It was four long hours of your life that you’d never get back. But, you were glad that all of the work that you had to force yourself to do all night was finally over.

It was somehow always in moments like these— where you procrastinated until the last possible second to do something that had been assigned weeks ago— that you sincerely wanted to drop out of college; and you’d barely even been there three months. But you also knew that you definitely could not do that because of your parents.

So, instead of even pondering that thought too much, you pushed through and forced yourself to start and finish a project for your Psychology class that involved a shit ton of writing and research. It was a project that now made your head pound heavily in your skull from focusing on that one tedious thing for hours upon hours.

With a loud sigh, you closed the books you had open and then stood up from your desk. A part of you wanted to immediately flop onto your bed and fall asleep, but then there was the other part that wanted to do something else entirely. And then suddenly the thought of the diner that was only ten minutes away and had amazing milkshakes became the only thing on your mind.

You switched out of the wrinkly old t-shirt you had on and put on a different oversized one that was less wrinkled, and then slipped on a pair of sweatpants. Steve was sleeping right then, you were pretty certain of it, but you still wanted to give him the opportunity to partake in this impulsive late-night decision you were making. So, when you exited your room, you headed toward his and walked in.

You refrained from turning on the light because you didn’t want to startle him awake, and instead simply sat down on the edge of his bed and lightly poked his back before whispering, “Hey.”

He only shifted a little bit and didn’t turn to face you. “Hm?”

“I just finished my stupid fucking midterm project for Psych and I’m going to the diner because I’m in dire need of a strawberry milkshake. You wanna come?”

“It’s one in the morning,” He mumbled, still barely moving and you weren’t entirely sure how he was actually able to be so accurate with what time it was.

You took his response as his way of saying no without actually saying it. And honestly, you weren’t too surprised by that answer because it was then that you remembered that his shift at Family Video earlier had been longer, and apparently more annoying, than usual. So, you decided not to try and further convince him to come to the diner with you.

“Okay, I’ll be back in an hour,” You said as you got up from his bed. “I’ll bring you back onion rings and your own milkshake. You can have it for breakfast when you wake up.”

“I’ll come,” Steve said before you left the room. He finally shifted around and sat up so that he was facing you. “The onion rings will suck in the morning.”

“Very true,” You nodded and then smiled as he got up and found a random hoodie to put on. “I’m sorry for waking you up, but I’m glad you’re joining me on this little adventure.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You drove Steve’s car, because you liked driving it more than your own, and he slept the entire ten-minute ride to the diner formally known as “Third Street.” The name had always been somewhat amusing to you because the small place was actually on a street called Cliffview.

It was empty aside from one man sitting at the counter with a coffee mug in his hand and a woman occupying a booth, reading a book with a soda and a plate of fries in front of her. You briefly wondered what their stories were, what brought them to a diner at nearly one-thirty in the morning.

You and Steve took your usual seats at the booth that you always sat at, and even though Robin and Eddie weren’t there at that moment, you two still decided to sit on the same side of the booth; it felt like second nature to do so. There was probably never a moment where you and Steve didn’t sit on the same side of any booth.

Since there was barely anyone in the diner right then, your orders were quickly taken by your waitress Cheryl, and they came out much faster too— a strawberry milkshake for you, a vanilla one for Steve, and a plate of onion rings for you two to share.

You took a long sip of your drink and internally sighed in contentment because somehow that milkshake made all the work you’d done and the fact that you were keeping yourself awake to come here even though you were exhausted completely worth it.

The two of you ate and drank your milkshakes in comfortable silence for a little while before Steve scooched down a bit in the seat and leaned his head on your shoulder.

“I actually am really sorry for waking you up,” You told him. “I forgot how long your shift was today, and I know you’re so fucking tired right now.”

“The onion rings and milkshake make it okay,” He mumbled, and you couldn’t see him, but you had the strongest feeling that his eyes were closed. “Tell me about your project.”

You reached for your drink, taking a sip from it before responding. “Hearing about that will definitely put you to sleep.”

Steve hummed. “Maybe I wanna hear a bedtime story.”

You laughed a bit. “Okay, well in that case, definitely not because I don’t wanna get dirty looks from the other people in here when you start loudly snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Mhm, yeah, of course, you don’t,” You said, the sarcasm completely evident in your tone, and he poked your side which made you laugh again.

You placed your hands in the pocket of the hoodie he was wearing because they were cold from you holding your glass. “Okay, this has nothing to do with that dumb project… But, um, how mad do you think my parents would be if I dropped out of school?”

Steve’s answer came immediately. “They would blame me somehow and kill me.”

“That would quite literally never happen,” You said with a shake of your head. “My parents love you too much to be mad at you for longer than even an hour.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe that’s true. So, instead, they’d actually kill you, and then that would suck more for me than you because I’d have to live without you.”

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” You said with a small laugh before grabbing an onion ring.

“But, anyway, you’re not quitting school, so this hypothetical situation doesn’t matter,” Steve told you and then lifted his head off of your shoulder so that he could take a quick sip of his milkshake. “You were barely able to convince them that you didn’t want to go to the University of Chicago. I think they’re still somewhat in mourning over that.”

Probably from the moment you became old enough to even think about college, your parents were pushing the idea of the University of Chicago onto you. Both of them had gone so it felt like the obvious choice for you to “follow in their footsteps;” well, the obvious choice mainly in their eyes. And for a while, you were okay with going in that direction because it felt like an easy option, and you were way too fucking smart not to get in, and when January rolled around you found out that you did.

But then the thought of leaving Indiana, leaving your friends, leaving Steve, became something that no longer felt “okay” to you. And then there was the fact that you were still completely unsure what you even wanted to do, so it felt dumb to you to go to a school that was really good and really expensive without a solid “plan” for your future.

However, your parents were way too persistent and strong-willed to let you give it up that easily. So the compromise that was ultimately settled upon was that you’d do the two years of community college here at the one close by and then you’d transfer to the University of Chicago and finish your last two years there.

At first, the thought of that felt fine to you, but now it felt like something that you weren’t sure if you actually wanted to do anymore, even though it was still basically two years away.

“Sometimes it just feels like a waste of time,” You said with a small sigh. “I still haven’t found that thing yet. My thing. What I wanna do.”

“You’ll find it.”

“Maybe it would be a good thing if I did quit, though. I could work at Family Video with you and Robin. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Yeah, it would be,” Steve nodded. “But, you don’t really wanna do that.”

You started picking at the now half-eaten plate of onion rings that sat between you two. “Technically, that’s true. But, that’s only because I don’t know what I wanna do at all.”

“I think you just gotta give it some time. You’re way too smart not to be in college right now. One day you’ll walk into some class and it will all just suddenly click into place for you,” He told you, and he sounded so certain and sure.

Somehow his encouraging words always managed to placate your thoughts; the type of existential thoughts that would usually only happen in the middle of the night. And you were glad that you had Steve to pull you back up before you spiraled harder.

You let his words sit for a second before you slipped out of the booth and went over to the counter, smiling at Cheryl as you paid the bill. When you went back, settling in your spot next to Steve, he slung an arm around your shoulders.

“If you did actually quit school, I’d fully take the blame and let your parents kill me,” He told you.

You knew that you weren’t going to do it; you’d never be able to muster up the courage to pull the trigger. Therefore, you would instead just continue to live in this awkward phase that felt weird at times and hope that it would eventually work itself out.

However, it was still nice to hear Steve’s words right then.

“Thank you,” You responded, smiling at him and then mimicking his words from earlier. “But if you did that, then I would be the one suffering more because I’d have to live without you.”

He nodded thoughtfully at that. “Okay, new plan then. We just let them murder both of us.”

You laughed a bit as you pushed yourself even closer to him, putting your hands into his hoodie pocket once again. “Deal.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington series #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington thoughts #stranger things fic #stranger things series

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ethansluvbot · 1 year

Note

Hey can you do Jack Champion x Actress!Reader, Where Jack has a crush on her and he like dms her?

FLAWLESS | JACK CHAMPION

summary: jacks had a crush on you for a while now. she's a great actress that he admires. one night he decides its time to finally message her.

warnings: none just fluff :)

an: sorry this is so so so short. i’m so sick so i’ll get to the request and write extra today!! i hope this is how you expected it :)

liked by jennaortega, baileybliss, jackchampion, and others

yourusername: sending kisses from thailand!

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fan01 you’re so gorgeous, i can’t wait to see the movie!!

yourusername thank you so much!!

jackchampion are you having a good time? the view looks amazing :)

yourusername i love it, thank you!

baileybliss trying to steal my girl?

masongooding my boys trying to make a move?

fan02 you’re so stunning

fan03 THE PASTA YUM

it wasn't unnoticeable that jack has a huge crush on y/n. he was always commenting, liking and reposting her post. he watched all of the movies that she started in and rewatched the shows. he even tried to get jenna to set you two up.

he would've made a move earlier but he was afraid of rejection. maybe it was the fact that he had alcohol in his system that he messaged you.

all he said was a simple hey, "really?" he thought to himself. he should've said something to intrigue her more. he threw his phone and ran away acting like a little girl. it was probably about ten minutes later that he finally decided to check his phone.

y/n scrolled through her messages until she saw his name pop up. all he said was a simple greeting, but you still was amused by it. she tapped the message quickly thinking of the best thing to send back.

hi :)

it shocked him that he even got a reply back. he tried his best to understand what just happened to him. (he’d probably start kicking his feet like a little girl)

i’m going to be honest, i don’t know what to say because i’m still in shock

that was the only thing that could come out after 20 minutes of thinking. she replied pretty quickly to him.

ill give you time to process this ;) i’m going out to lunch, maybe you can join me?

hell yes :)

jack spent at least a half an hour trying to pick a outfit. after he still didn’t figure it out he resorted to calling his mom. which she helped him pick out a outfit quickly.

it was a understatement to say jack was nervous. this is all he wanted. he wanted her. he got into the car and drove to the panera. to be honest he wasn't the biggest fan of panera, but he did it all for her. he would do anything for her.

she sat there waiting with a fresh bowl of soup. he was at least 30 minutes late to their "date". the sound of the bell from the door made her meet the eyes of jack. she smiled waving him over to her.

"hey! sorry i'm late, i couldn't pick out an outfit to wear." she nodded to him. why did she make him that nervous? it's not like they never interacted before. maybe only one or two times.

"i promise i'm friendly," she said brushing her hand against him. that didn't calm any of his nerves. he would just have to be himself and hope she would accept him.

an hour later they finally began to laugh together. it was almost like they had known each other for a long time. he wondered if she actually thought about him more than a friend.

"i really do like you, no matter what i'll wait for you." jack said. you both finished up your lunch and were getting ready to leave. you looked up to him meeting his puppy dog eyes. no one could say no to that.

you looked at his lips and then directly into his eyes. leaning up you attached yourself to his lips. your arm reaching up to curl in his hair.

"i'll text you later stranger," she gave him once last kiss on the lips. she never met someone like her. someone that she could spend her life laughing with. she wondered if something would actually happen between them.

#jack champion x reader #jack champion #jack champion imagine #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #avtar #atwow imagines #spider socorro #scream 6 #scream #scream 6 imagines

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aphroditeslover11 · 6 months

Note

for oppie maybe he meets a foreign student when he is studying abroad like in the beginning of the movie in germany? he is so stressed then he could have used a friend… loved your exam piece so i thought maybe you would like an idea like this ❤️

An Unexpected Friend

Hi there, I hope that this is something along the lines of what you meant. My first ask, so I’m using that as an excuse if it’s crap! I ended up writing a little more of myself into this than I meant to. 🤣

I should probably warn that Oppie ends up having a bit of an existential crisis incase that bothers anybody. But yeah, please read and enjoy, any feedback or further requests are much appreciated.

Robert Oppenheimer was thoroughly fed up. He was twenty two and in the middle of a real dip in his life. The last year that he had spent studying at Cambridge had been nothing short of a disaster. He was starting to doubt himself intellectually for the first time, he felt as if he was losing his identity. Though he would be hard pushed to admit it, he also felt as if he had nowhere to turn, his friends all seemed to be meeting women, some making the more permanent choice of settling down into early domesticity, leaving him feeling completely alone in the world. This was where his decision to pack his bags and move to Germany had come from, to try and reinvigorate his love of physics if nothing else.

He was on an overnight train, headed to Gottingen for the place at the university that he was taking up. He was dosing in and out of sleep, waking up for the third time since he had finished the sandwiches that he had bought before he left the station. The lights of the carriage were slightly dingy, yet he reached for the book that he had been reading earlier that evening, a newly published physics paper, hoping to get a bit more reading done before he arrived.

After about half an hour of reading he was fully awake again, concentration completely engaged, only to be pulled out of it by a knock on the door of his compartment. He opened the door to find a girl, about the same age as him, carrying a suitcase and with a reticent look on her face.

“I’m really sorry to bother you Sir, I got onto the train at the last station but I can’t find any seats, all the other compartments are dark and I didn’t want to disturb people if they were sleeping.” Robert ran a hand through his hair in contemplation, then moving away from the door to let you in.

“It’s alright, I’m on my own. We can share it for the night. I’ll warn you that I’m planning on staying awake for the rest of the journey though, so the light will be on.”

“That’s not an issue, I’m probably going to read anyway. I’ve always been a dreadful sleeper. Thankyou, Mr?”

“Oppenheimer, Robert. And you are?”

“Y/N.”

You had both started the evening with your noses buried in books, trying to be quiet and not disturb each other. Robert had uncharacteristically broken the silence when he realised what you were reading a volume of Plato. You started a discussion between you about how philosophy and physics could be compatible with one another, learning that you were both heading to the same university to study your respective subjects. When you got off the train you agreed to meet up soon.

Over the first few weeks of your time at the university you saw each other a lot. Neither of you were hugely social, of course making some friends through your courses, but you certainly considered Oppie as your closest. You met up most evenings, sometimes going out to eat at a local café, but most often just reading and working on assignments or papers in silence. It was always nice to know that you could talk if you wanted to though.

It was on one of these evenings that Robert started an unexpected conversation.

“Y/N, I was wondering if I could ask you about something. I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but it’s just been bugging me recently.”

“I’m all ears Robert, go ahead.”

“Do you ever just walk into a room and feel like everybody in it hates you. That you open your mouth and everybody just thinks ‘what the hell is this idiot going to start on about now’.” He was saying everything very matter of factly, though it was clear that opening up to someone wasn’t easy on him. You paused briefly, trying to decide how to respond.

“People that you know, or just everyone?”

“Everyone. Although it’s easier when it’s just new people, you can just put up a facade for a bit, you know. Convince them that you aren’t as bad as you really are.”

“I guess I kind of know what you mean, I ended up with a bit of a complex because my mum used to ask me not to talk about my interests. She used to say she didn’t want to know because she didn’t understand, I don’t think she could handle the fact that I knew more than her. It kind of gets better though when you make some decent friends… the complex I mean. What’s so bad about you anyway Robert?”

“All I’ve ever done is academics, I don’t have a personality outside of that. I hate making friends and nobody ever understands me. I went to Cambridge and got stuck doing lab work, I was hopeless, just couldn’t do it.” His fragile facade was starting to drop now, you could hear it in his voice. “I couldn’t even manage the one thing that I’m meant to be good at. Without my science who the hell even am I?” He was trying to hide it, but you had noticed the few small tears that had fallen from his cyanic eyes.

You moved from your seat to be beside him on the sofa where he was sitting himself, wrapping a gentle arm around his shoulders. Given how reserved he usually was, the picture of perfect manners and politeness, it caught you off guard when he wrapped both of his arms around you, burying his head in your shoulder. It was rare to see him so vulnerable, it was the same of any man really, but it was strangely gratifying that he trusted you enough to be around him like this.

“You are J Robert Oppenheimer. You are you Robert, and that is enough to ask of anyone.” You spoke firmly. “I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but I certainly don’t hate you. In fact, I think you’re the best friend that I’ve had in a very long time, and I’ve had my share of identity crises as well.” He pulled back from your hold then, sitting up straight.

“Is this feeling ever going to go away though? I can’t bear it, I just can’t.”

“It will, it will take time but you will get past this. Both of us are learning who we really are, and when we do we’ll be all the better for it.

“Would you mind if I hold you, just for a bit? I just need to know that somebody’s here, with me.”

“Of course I don’t mind. In truth, it’s been a very long time since I’ve been able to feel this comfortable with someone.” With that, he put a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you securely into his side.

“Robert, I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

#1950s #oppenheimer #american prometheus #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #cillian murphy x reader #oppenheimer x reader #christopher nolan #tommy shelby x reader #j robert oppenheimer #j Robert Oppenheimer x reader #fanfic #world war 2

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writingwithciara · 9 months

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Safe & Sound ~Rafe Cameron~

summary: at a boneyard party, rafe catches a random touron drugging y/n’s drink when she’s not looking. they aren’t friends and they’ve never said a word to each other so why would he decide to save her? 🤷🏻‍♀️

word count:3.6k

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warning: mention of drugs, fluff

a/n: kinda sorta canon rafe, but also sorta not. idk. had this saved in my drafts since i started this writing blog & thought it was about time to finally get it out on the site

masterlist

"We're throwing a party at the Boneyard tonight & JJ is insisting that you come." Kiara followed y/n around her dad's store as she continued stocking shelves.

"I wish I could, Kie. But I'm swamped here. My dad's got me closing up tonight & I can't ditch my responsibilities again. Not after what happened last time." y/n narrowed her eyes at her best friend.

"It's not my fault you fucked JJ in the storage room and didn't lock the doors. That was your mistake."

"You said you'd cover the counter for me."

"Oh, shit. You're right. I'm sorry." Kiara stopped her friend. "I'm sure your dad will make an exception for this. It's a big night. It's your best friends birthday."

"It's not your birthday." y/n chuckled.

"Okay, you're right. But we can tell him it's JJ's birthday. I don't think he knows when that is."

"My dad is not the biggest fan of JJ. Hasn't been since that night, you know. But maybe we can use Pope. He loves Pope." y/n placed the final can on the shelf. "I'll call him right now."

After conversing with her father for less than a minute, y/n and Kiara were closing up the store and heading to the Boneyard.

"Hey, you made it. I was starting to think Kiara had failed to get you here when she texted me earlier. Glad your dad let you go early." JJ smiled when y/n approached him. He handed her a drink and she took it quickly.

"He only let me go because I told him it was Pope's birthday." she smiled. "I'm quite surprised he fell for it. You'd think since he loves Pope that'd he know when his actual birthday is."

"Guess you were wrong." JJ took a sip of his drink. "Why didn't you just tell him it was my birthday?"

"He's not a big fan of you right now. Especially not after the other night."

"That was a fun night."

"It really was, wasn't it?" y/n looked around the boneyard and only recognized 4 people. "Geez, did you only invite tourons or something?"

"No. We invited pretty much all the teenagers on the island, even the kooks." JJ looked at her. "It was Sarah's idea."

"Oh that's just fantastic. One more group of people I don't want to see right now."

"What do you mean?"

"Tourons have been bugging me all week at the store. Stupid fucking rich brats." she shook her head. "All I want to do this weekend is hang out with you, Kie & Pope." y/n tipped her head back and finished her drink. "I need another one."

JJ handed her another cup of alcohol before the words were even out of her mouth. Y/n accepted it and continued to suck down the beverage.

An hour later, she had lost track of JJ and was dancing by herself. On her 5th beer, she looked around the party, noticing the kooks were already filling in the empty spaces, making the party more occupied than it was before.

On the other side of the party, Rafe stood alone with a drink in his hand. Aside from his friends, he only saw 2 others he recognized at the party. The rest of the partygoers were tourons.

He saw JJ with some random girl and then he spotted y/n dancing by herself. The girl looked like she was having the time of her life and that put Rafe at ease. He's never said a word to her and their separate groups never got along but he's seen her around the island before and he thought she was cute for a pogue.

While he watched her dance to the beat of her own drum, he also watched all the male tourons gather around her. Most of them were just there to watch her but while her head was turned to talk to one of them, another one hovered his hand over her drink and dropped something in. Rafe noticed this but didn't want to make a scene around y/n so he watched the touron very closely. When he was alone, Rafe approached him.

"What did you put in y/n's drink?"

"Excuse me?"

"What did you put in that girls drink back there? Did you drug her?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, bro. I don't know who you're referring to either. I'm just here to have a good time."

"You think spiking the drink of some girl counts as having a good time? If so, you're just pathetic." Rafe stepped closer to the guy, only now realizing how big the dude was. He took a quick look around but couldn't find y/n anywhere. "Where is she? Did one of your friends take her somewhere, huh?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You put something in y/n's drink and now she's gone. So are some of your friends. I swear, if anything happens to her, I'm going to find you and it's not going to be good for you."

"Like I'm afraid of you." the touron chuckled and went to walk away, but Rafe beat him to it. Adrenaline took over all of his instincts and he punched the guy in the face and when he doubled over, Rafe kneed him in the face. Luckily they weren't around a whole lot of people around so if he wanted to, he could make an easy escape.

Unfortunately for him, the touron called for his friends. They gathered around Rafe and one of them held him back while the main touron began throwing punches. The crowd began to grow and the remaining tourons were keeping Kelce and Topper from helping their friend. It wasn't until a gunshot rang throughout the air that the tourons let Rafe go and ran off. Kelce ran to help his friend off the ground and Topper looked to see who had fired the gun. He was not expecting to see JJ lowering it.

"JJ, what the hell is wrong with you, man?"

"Are you seriously getting mad at me for saving Rafe? I didn't have to fire the gun, you know."

"I know. Sorry." Topper helped Kelce with Rafe and looked at his friend. "What the hell happened, dude?"

"The guy...tried to...drug..."Rafe closed his eyes.

"Who did he try to drug?"

"Y/n....he tried to drug y/n."

JJ stormed off and Topper assumed he was going after the touron. Kelce put Rafe in the back of his truck and took the keys from him before climbing in the driver's seat. Topper got in the passenger side & looked back at Rafe.

"So, why did you try to beat up a guy who was so much bigger than you, just because of y/n?"

"It's not right that he tried to drug her." he shook his head. "She's kind of cute though, isn't she?"

"How much did you have to drink, man?" Kelce questioned.

"A few beers. Why?"

"You just called a pogue cute." Topper chuckled. "You're clearly drunk."

"So what if I am?" Rafe looked out the window and wiped the blood from his cheek. "Maybe she's not so bad."

On the other side of the island, JJ was at y/n's window. He had shown up at her place a few minutes ago with blood dripping from his lip and a bruised cheek. After he heard Rafe say that the touron drugged y/n's drink, he found the guy and tried fighting him.

He was lucky enough to walk away with only a few marks and he made it all the way to y/n's bedroom. She was in the bathroom getting the first-aid kit so she could clean him up.

"So, are you going to tell me what kook did this?" y/n smiled as she re-entered the bedroom. She set the kit down, pulled out the rag and poured alcohol on it.

"It wasn't a kook. It was a touron." he winced when she wiped the blood off his lip. "He was huge and had like 4 friends with him."

"Why did you think that fighting them would be a good idea? Are you an idiot?"

"Not entirely." he looked up at her. "After he and his friends beat up Rafe, Topper asked why it happened & Rafe mentioned that the big guy drugged your drink. So I went after him."

"Rafe fought him too? Why would he do that?"

"Something about seeing the guy put something in your drink. I guess it set him off and he thought he could handle 5 guys at once."

Although it sounded strange to her, y/n couldn't help but smile a little. "Is he stupid? Why would a kook risk his life for me? Especially one that has never said a word to me. That's ridiculous."

"I don't know. Maybe he thinks you're hot or something." JJ just shrugged and leaned against the pillow on y/n's bed. She put the kit back in the bathroom and laid beside him. "He wouldn't be wrong to think that though. You really are hot."

"Thanks, JJ." she looked at him and smiled. "I need you to promise me something."

"What's that?"

"Never get in a fight with someone who's bigger than you, just to protect me."

"Okay, fine." he chuckled. "I just really care about you."

"And I care about you, JJ." she smiled and cuddled up next to him. "Thank you for being you."

"No problem, y/n." he smiled as they both drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, y/n woke up and JJ was already gone. She thought back to what JJ said last night and her mind couldn't help but picture what Rafe must've looked like after the fight.

After her shift at the store, y/n headed to Figure 8. She was hoping to find Rafe and talk to him but she had no idea which house was his so she walked to the country club where JJ worked. He wasn't on the schedule today so he would not be helpful, so y/n decided to wait for a little bit.

After an hour of waiting and not seeing Rafe or his friends, y/n was about to give up and go home. That is, until she spotted a familiar head of blonde hair.

"Hey, it's Topper, right?" she called out to him. He was with his mom but he stopped to look at y/n anyway, ignoring the look he was receiving from his mother.

"Yeah, that's me." he excused himself from his moms company and walked over to y/n. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering if you could tell me where Rafe was. I need to talk to him."

"I'm not sure he would like for me to divulge that information to just anyone." Topper looked her over. "But you're not just anyone, are you?"

"No, I guess I'm not." she looked down at her feet.

"He's under the docks. Likes to go there to look at the water & to be alone. It's kind of the only place his dad doesnt know about." Topper went to walk away but turned back. "If he asks, I did not say a single word to you. Got it?"

"Yes sir." y/n smiled as she parted ways with the Kook. She went down to the docks and sure enough, Rafe was exactly where Topper said he'd be. As she approached him, the shaking of his voice caught her off guard. He was talking to himself.

"Are you kidding? You're never gonna be good enough. Not for your dad. Not for your friends. Not even for any girl. Especially not her." he muttered. y/n looked at his back and sighed. Rafe must've been having a struggle with his own mind.

"Rafe?" her voice startled him, causing him to jump & almost land in the water.

"Jesus! Didn't your mother ever tell you not to sneak up on someone?"

"As a matter of fact, no. My dad did mention it once or twice though." she looked out at the water just as his gaze fell on her.

"So, what brings you to Figure 8?"

"Had to come talk to the guy who supposedly saved me last night."

"Oh. You heard about that?"

"Of course I did. JJ came to my house all beat up, talking about how he had to kick the crap out of the guy who tried to drug my drink. Then he told me that you were the one who initially tried."

"Yeah. I tried and failed to kick his ass. He called in his friends."

"Well, that's just not fair, is it?" she turned to him with a smile. "So why did you do it? Why would you go after a guy who spiked my drink?

"To be honest, I don't even know. Something just came over me, I guess." he shrugged and kicked at a can that the waves had washed up. "I mean, we've never even talked before right now. It was weird."

"Weird indeed." she bit her lip and looked around. A few moments of silence passed before Rafe decided to speak again.

"I was, uh," Rafe paused for a moment. "I was wrong about you."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought that since you were a pogue & such good friends with JJ that you'd be so much like him. But you're not. Maybe you're crazy, but the good kind of crazy." Rafe's frown turned into a small smile. But it vanished quickly when y/n looked at him. He thought she didn't see it but she definitely caught him.

"Rafe Cameron, are you trying to compliment me?"

"Yeah. Maybe." he chuckled. "Yeah. I was."

"Well then, how did it feel to compliment a pogue?" y/n raised an eyebrow and gave him a look.

"It was definitely a different feeling." he looked at her. "But honestly, I liked it. Especially because someone like you definitely deserves to be complimented."

"Okay. Truth time." she crossed her arms and leaned against one of the beams supporting the docks. "Did you try to beat up some touron last night for spiking my drink because you thought it was the right thing to do, or did you do it because maybe there's a part of you that thinks that everything your dad has told you your entire life is a lie?"

"I did it because," he took a deep breath and leaned next to her. "I felt some kind of strange feeling, kinda like I had to protect you & only you."

"Rafe, that's actually kinda sweet. Especially coming from you." y/n smirked and looked at him. The moonlight was reflecting off the water and for the first time that night, she could actually see the damage the tourons did to him. "Oh my goodness. Your face looks like shit. Did you even try to clean it up?"

"Kind of." he shook his head. "Kelce tried but apparently I wouldn't let him. So I tried to do it myself and as you can clearly see, it didn't work out so well."

"If you want, I can do it. I'm really good at patching people up. I am friends with JJ, after all."

"Okay. But can we do it at your place? My dad will kill me if I show up with a pogue." he immediately looked at her, thinking his words might've offended her. "Not that it's a bad thing. But you know how my father thinks."

"I get it. I understand." she looked at her watch. "My dad should be out right now. Let's go to my place." y/n walked away and waited for Rafe to follow her. When she felt his presence next to her, she continued her way to her house.

"Let's take my truck. It's a lot safer." he opened the door for her and she gave him a quizzical expression. "Just get in."

"Yes sir." y/n looked at him and got in. "I'll give you directions when we get onto that side of the island."

Minutes later, y/n was sneaking Rafe into her bedroom & sitting him down on her bed. She left him alone to go get the first aid kit from the bathroom & he glanced around her room. Everything was neat and organized, totally against what a pogue really was. When y/n returned to her room, Rafe was standing with his back to her, a picture in his hand.

"Is this you?" he turned to her and let her take a look.

"No. That's, um, my mom when she was my age. I found it when I was going through her old stuff." y/n set the photo & box down. Rafe instictively sat back on the edge of her bed as she pulled a chair up to work on him.

"What happened to her? Did she leave you?"

"In a way, yes." y/n dabbed the cloth on the dried blood around Rafe's lip, causing him to wince a little.

"What does that mean?"

"She didn't leave us by choice. I barely knew her though because she died when I was 3. Cancer." she reached behind her with her free hand to grab the anti-biotic ointment, applying some to another cloth, and rubbed it on his neck.

"Oh. I'm so sorry." he looked up. "I barely knew my mom too. But she didn't die. Just decided to leave us. And for a pogue who only wanted the money she had."

"That's horrible." y/n looked over the bruises and shook her head. "No wonder your dad hates pogues."

"He's the only one who really does. Sarah has John B & Wheezie just doesn't like to judge people on their economic or social class. Neither does Rose, sorta."

"And what about you? What do you think of pogues?"

"I think I was totally wrong about you guys. Here you are, fixing me up, even though the kooks have been horrible to you your entire life. And then there's JJ, who I thought was a total prick, who fired a gun to scare off the tourons who were kicking my ass last night. You're really not that bad."

"Neither are you, Country Club." y/n smiled to herself as she remembered the nickname Barry gave Rafe once. When Rafe chuckled at the name, it made y/n smile even more as she rubbed the last of the dried blood from his face. "There. Feeling any better?"

"Yeah. Thank you." he stood up and walked slowly to the door. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped himself. "This may sound weird but would it be at all possible to stay a little longer? I-I'm not ready to go home just yet."

"Of course. Make yourself at home." she walked over to him and smiled. "I'll go get us something to drink & maybe I'll get some food. Any preferences on either?"

"Just a beer, if you can get one. And if you have any kind of snack, I'd appreciate it. I don't care what it is."

"Got it. I'll be right back." she grabbed the first aid kit and walked out of the room.

Rafe took another look around the fairly large bedroom, taking in everything he didn't notice before. There were fairy lights hanging from her ceiling and another string of lights were on her wall with little polaroid pictures attached at every clip.

He looked at all of them and it unknowingly brought a smile to his face when he gazed upon one of her and JJ smiling like idiots. They looked like they were having fun, the type of fun Rafe wished he had the freedom to have.

Y/n returned a few minutes later with 2 beers and a bowl of chips. She handed him a bottle and he accepted it gratefully. "Do you wanna do something or do you want to sit here in silence while we eat and drink?"

"You ever play Never Have I Ever?"

"Yeah. JJ & I play it all the time." she smiled. "You wanna play?"

"Sure." he took a sip of his beer and started the game. For the next hour, Rafe & y/n went back and forth, slowly getting to know each other better. The rounds started out normal and innocent but the longer they played, the more the questions got personal. "Okay. Last one. Never Have I Ever....wanted to hook up with someone in this very room at one point in time."

y/n looked at him and took the last sip of her beer while Rafe finished his drink as well. They stared at each other for about 10 seconds. It was like each one of them was daring the other to do something they could possibly regret later.

To y/n's surprise, it was Rafe who took the initiative and made the first move. His lips collided with hers and the kiss was everything y/n was definitely not expecting.

Soft, sweet & gentle. Loving, even.

When they pulled away from each other, Rafe had a smile. It was genuine and it was probably the happiest he'd been in a while. Y/n smirked at the boy in front of her.

"Damn, Cameron. Where'd you learn to kiss like that?"

"I have no idea." he chuckled. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Well, if you really like me, I'm sure you wouldn't like the answer."

"I think I know the answer." he looked back at her lips and it took all of his willpower to not kiss her again so soon. "You're lucky I really do like you, y/n."

"I really like you too, Rafe Cameron." she smiled and went against what her brain was thinking, following her heart instead as she pulled Rafe back into a very tender kiss.

It was everything both of them had subconsciously wanted for so long. They were both safe & sound as long as they were together.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks

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stellamancer · 10 months

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pairing: fem!reader x merman!satoru gojo

contents: more varying levels of anxiety from the reader, mentions of food and eating, satoru gojo is an absolute menace

notes: part ii! um, got a little delayed because i wanted to write a kiss scene... and also because i was fretting over characterization, over reader’s characteriztion, over gojo’s... he’s really hard to write i think. nuances, you know? hoping i did a good job. also somehow this chapter is?? longer?? than the last?? i’m surprised tbh. anyway, please enjoy.

word count: 5.5k (who the hell am i???)

previous chapter || masterlist

You think you might have made a really, really big mistake.

Last night, it didn't seem like a mistake, rather, it seemed like the right thing to do. Who knows who could have found him? What they would have with him? To him? It was better to have brought the merman home than to leave him to an uncertain and possibly cruel fate. You did the right thing; you were certain of it.

At least, you were until you woke up, greeted by the merman's smooth voice and his blue, blue eyes. Ever since then, it’s just been one thing after another with him.

Don't you know that merfolk need the water to be at a specific temperature?

Don't you know that the water needs to be at a certain salinity level?

Don't you know that thing you're keeping him in is far too small?

It's only been for a couple of hours, but you're already completely exhausted trying to keep up and accommodate his needs. To be honest, it's actually kind of overwhelming and you can't help but wonder if this is what it's like for people who adopt animals just because they think they're cute or something.

Not that you would call the merman cute.

Especially not after he’s spent all morning basically mocking you for not knowing anything about merfolk. You didn’t even know they were real until last night, so how could you possibly know the optimal ambient water temperature for a merperson? But you're trying, and hopefully that counts for something. Which is why you're standing in the doorway of your bathroom, holding a platter with a single, whole, raw mackerel on it, its dead eyes boring into your very soul.

Originally, you were going to grill the mackerel in question and have it for breakfast, but you’ve been so caught up in doing this and that for the merman that you haven’t had the time to eat, much less cook. It’s fine. You and Minori planned to meet up at that cafe off the beach that she likes, so you can just eat there even if you think their food sacrifices flavor for the sake of looking disgustingly photogenic.

Speaking of that, you should probably start getting ready soon. You’re supposed to meet up in a little over an hour, and you feel a little gross, still in the clothes you wore last night, plus you have no doubt that you absolutely need a shower, but before you can do any of that, you need to feed the merman.

His gaze zeroes in on the platter in your hands, realizing you heard him earlier (as if you couldn't— he's so very loud). He seems to perk up at the prospect of eating, but it doesn't last long as a frown settles across his features. You gulp. It feels like you're in for yet another merfolk lesson.

Finally, he asks, "Is that supposed to be… food?"

You nod slowly.

"For me?"

You nod again.

"I can't eat that."

"Wh-why not? What's wrong with it?" You almost demand. In hindsight, you should have asked, especially since Mr. Merman's seemed eager to point out every misstep you've made so far. You were so sure that the mackerel would have been acceptable that you didn't even bother. It makes sense for a merman to eat fish right? What else would he eat? Seaweed? Is he maybe vegan?

"It's dead," he tells you and though his tone is plain, you can see the amusement dancing in those beautiful blue eyes of his. "Fish are best live— squirming as you bite into them, their blood squirting—"

"Okay!" You squeak, interrupting his rather grotesque description. It’s way too early for any kind of gory stuff. "Okay! Got it!"

Well, that settles that; he’s definitely not vegan.

He grins, clearly finding enjoyment in your discomfort, and you try to tell yourself, again, that you did the right thing. You're trying your best, but the fact that it doesn't seem to be amounting to anything is frustrating. The merman's constant jabs and jeers at you and your efforts certainly aren't helping.

Neither is the distinct feeling of intense hanger that's starting to claw at you.

Maybe you should have a snack before you meet up with Minori.

The merman tilts his head, and you think maybe he's trying to look innocent, his eyes big and wet, his lips barely puckered. But the mischievous look in his eyes betrays him, making it clear that his aim is just to continue messing with you. "Oh, but—"

"Unfortunately," you interject again, exasperation seeping into your tone. You can feel your hanger about to violently consume you as you hiss. "I'm rather uneducated when it comes to merfolk food culture."

He just stares at you and it feels strange that he has no quip to counter you with.

Shit. Was that a bit much? You regret your words as soon as they're out of your mouth. Despite the merman's behavior, he doesn't entirely deserve to be on the receiving end of your ire. You really should have asked about his diet. And maybe gotten yourself a bite to eat while you were getting him that fish. It's not as if you didn't know you were hungry.

You take a deep, deep breath, hoping that fresh oxygen in your lungs can keep you sane for just a little bit longer. "Sorry. Just… is there— is it really completely inedible like this? If you really want it warm or something, I can cook it for you really quick."

He seems to consider your words, and you hope his response will be favorable. "...No, it's fine like this, I guess."

Relief saturates you as you exhale. You hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath. "I promise I'll get you something better later, it's just I… kind of don't have the time right now."

The merman hums and holds his hand out expectantly. You're not sure if you should just give him the whole platter or just the fish itself; you opt for the former as you cross the length of the bathroom to give him his meal. Then you look away. He's either going to swallow the fish whole or bite into it, and frankly, you don't know if you can stomach the sight of either.

It sounds like the latter though. You start to step away, seeing this as the perfect opportunity to get ready, but that would have to start with a shower and while the shower is completely separate from the tub it is also right there. The thought of giving the merman a show while he eats is absolutely mortifying, especially when you consider how unnaturally handsome he is. Maybe you should leave a little early and swing by the bathhouse to shower there…

“Got plans?” The merman’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“Uh, yeah.”

"A hot date?" he probes, sounding like he's snickering.

Your face feels warm and you whirl around to face him, catching a peek of a bit of the mackerel's tail hanging out of his mouth. "No, I'm meeting up with my best friend."

Last night doesn't count. You barely even spoke with one another. Not that you could since she—

"You don't seem all that excited about it," the merman remarks, his eyes watching you curiously, looking impossibly bluer than before.

You open your mouth to refute the claim. To tell him that the reason you don't seem excited isn't because of Minori but because you've spent your entire morning running yourself ragged because of him. But it’s not quite true, so you don’t. Try as you might to ignore it, Minori's recent behavior still weighs on you, awkward and uncomfortable. You hold your tongue and instead say, "That's… not true."

The merman's expression is indecipherable, his icy blue gaze fixed on you. It feels like he’s seeing right through you, silently calling you out on your weak excuse of a lie.

Feeling the conversation is over, you turn back around and take another step to leave, but then the merman speaks again.

“So, you know,” he starts, his tone adopting a flirtatious edge. “I’d be happy to teach you about merfolk culture. I’m pretty good at it, if I do say so myself.”

Your entire body goes rigid and you glance back at him, in mild disbelief. “At… teaching?”

He grins at you, as if he’s happy to have your eyes on him again. Is he starved for attention or something? The merman winks as he responds cheerfully, “Yup!”

You gawk at him. “Like how you’ve been ‘teaching’ me all day?”

“That’s right! You’ll be an expert in no time.”

You doubt that. His teaching methods leave a lot to be desired; you’d even go so far as to say he’s actually a garbage teacher. You consider telling him this, but decide not to because he really seems legitimately proud of his skills (or lack thereof). “I don’t know…”

“Come on! It’ll be lots of fun!”

You doubt that even more. “Based on everything you’ve ‘taught’ me so far, I’m honestly not even sure if I can adequately take care of you here…” You pause, then add, slowly more to yourself than the merman. “Maybe when I get back I should call the aquarium…”

It would be better, you think, to return him to the sea where he belongs. If anything, he seems well enough, and he hasn’t made any mention of any injuries that would keep him from going back. You don’t know for sure, but being in the aquarium would probably be better than your parent’s luxurious bathtub.

“An aquarium?” he exclaims and his voice is louder than usual, causing you to jump just a little bit. “You’re not serious, right?”

“Uh, well—”

“They keep a lot of different aquatic creatures there, don’t they?” the merman says before you can say anything.

“Yeah, but that means the facilities are bigger and so you’d—”

“They probably wouldn’t be able to give me the same kind of personalized care that I could get from you.”

“Maybe, but I’m sure they’d—”

“Besides,” he interrupts again, his voice even louder as if he’s trying (and succeeding) to gain dominance over the conversation at hand. “They’d probably keep me there for the rest of my life! They might even experiment on me!”

Wide eyed, you stare at the merman. Your initial thought is that the family that owns the aquarium wouldn’t do that, but you don’t know, someone else who works there might. Merfolk are supposed to be myths, legends, so it’s not completely outside the realm of possibility that if you were to dump him off at the aquarium that he’d become someone’s research project.

"You wouldn't do that to me, would you?" he pleads, staring at you, his baby blue eyes blown wide, wet with what you think, in the back of your mind, are crocodile tears, his lower lip quivering as if he’s a frightened child.

“I…” you start, trying to think of something, anything to say. There’s no doubt in your mind that the merman is guilting you. But you also know that he has a point, there’s no way to ensure that he’ll be treated humanely if you hand him off to someone else. Your stomach churns at the thought of scientists cruelly poking and prodding at him with needles and scalpels as if he were a lab rat. No matter how annoying he’s been, he wouldn’t deserve that.

After all, isn’t that why you brought him home in the first place? To protect him from such a cruel fate? If you were just going to hand him off to someone else, you should have just left him on the beach.

Slowly, you shake your head, “No… I wouldn’t.”

Pleased, the merman beams at you, his expression now the complete opposite of the pitiful look he was sporting just a moment ago. Despite his cheer, you still feel uneasy and you don’t think it’s because you’re hungry.

The reason becomes obvious when the merman speaks, as if your body was giving you a premonition, trying to warn you. “That settles it then! Guess we’re roommates now!”

You stare at him blankly, your thoughts stuttering at his words, struggling to comprehend them as if they were spoken with a foreign tongue. What did he say? What did he say? When your brain finally processes them, translates them into something you can understand, you nearly screech, the words flying out of your mouth before you can even think about filtering them. “Roommates? Who said anything about roommates?”

The merman’s eyes narrow into a smoldering gaze and you distantly wonder if he's just trying to show off the range of emotions that he's capable of. His voice drops an octave, purposefully sultry and seductive as he says, "Well, if you'd like a different kind of arrangement—"

"Shut up!" you finally snap, ignoring the electric feeling running up and down your spine at the mere sound of his voice. You don’t think you’ve snapped at anyone before, much less a stranger, but to hell with that and to him too. All morning he’s been bossing you around and while you’ve been doing you best to acquiesce to him, he keeps messing with you as if you’re his own personal toy. Maybe it really is the hanger, having consumed you, body and mind, by this point, but regardless, you’ve hit your limit with him. “We absolutely cannot be roommates! Don’t you have to return to the ocean, anyway? Won’t you turn into seafoam or something if you don’t?”

He starts to laugh and you glare at him. It probably sounds stupid, but you think you’ve heard something like that before, but then again it’s not like you actually know anything. The merman waves his hand dismissively, his lips curled up in amusement. “I know what you’re thinking and no, it’s nothing like that.”

"Okay, but that doesn't answer my question."

He gives you a noncommittal shrug. “Yeah, eventually.”

You wait, because you know there’s got to be more to it than that. Is he just doing these dramatic pauses for the fun of it? He shoots you a mischievous grin, almost confirming it, as he adds, “Should be fine as long as I go back in the next hundred years or so.”

You nearly choke on the air. One hundred years? He can’t be serious. You take a deep, deep breath before speaking. “Sorry, but I don’t have one hundred years to be your roommate— I don’t even know if I’ll live that long. I’m only going to be here for the summer, and then I’m heading back home to Tokyo.”

That should be enough to deter him. At least that’s what you think, but you also think that the merman might like proving you wrong. His smile shifts only just slightly, the glimmering in his eyes reminding you more of the sky than the sea that he calls home. “For the summer then. We can be roommates until you go back to Tokyo.”

You scowl, wracking your mind for some kind of counterpoint, but it feels like you’re fighting a losing battle in trying to argue with him. He takes your silence as a chance to attempt to further convince you. “Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re the only one here, right?”

You don’t say anything so he continues.

“Aren’t you lonely here all on your own?”

His question hangs in the air, unanswered, as you remain silent.

The truth is you’re used to it— to being lonely. You’ve been living on your own in Tokyo for long enough to be comfortable with the silence that comes with solitude. It’s no stranger, and sometimes you could even consider it a friend. But there’s no denying that maybe, just maybe you’d been hoping there would have been a little more time between your arrival and your parents’ departure. It’s fine. You’ll see them when they get back.

Besides, you still have Minori.

You can still hang out with her. Go eat at little cafes where you’re meant to take pictures of the food rather than enjoy eating it. Or have sleepovers where you chat about anything and everything. How she’s got something going on with Hayato. How weirdly nice Shinomiya is. How different life in Tokyo is compared to here. And maybe spending time with her will be enough to take the place of the silence, the loneliness that you’re grown accustomed to. It’s fine, you tell yourself, almost viciously. It’s fine because you still have Minori.

Minori, who’s supposedly your best friend.

Minori, who, you suppose, is acting strange around you.

Minori, who you’re supposed to hang out with in about an hour.

“We can’t be roommates,” you repeat, through gritted teeth as you reach up to massage your temple in exasperation. You don’t have time to deal with this right now: you need to get ready. “I don’t even know you. I don’t even know your name.”

The merman opens his mouth to respond but just as he starts to speak, you can feel a vibrating in your pocket. Soon after the sound of your ringtone fills the bathroom, echoing off the walls. You shoot him a look, silently telling him to be quiet as you reach into your pocket to grab your phone. Your stomach feels like it’s doing gymnastics, flipping and folding into itself, uncomfortably, painfully. It’s amazing your phone is still alive, having gone all night and almost all morning off the charger and you catch sight of how much the battery remains— nine percent. But that’s not the most important thing right now.

It’s Minori that’s calling.

You turn away from the merman, gulping as you swipe the green answer button on the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey.” Her voice is strained, hoarse, like she’s gotten sick or spent all night screaming.

“Are you okay?” you ask, more a formality than anything. You know the answer, but you’re still concerned.

“No, I—” She coughs. It sounds almost forced. You ignore it. “I… kinda drank a little too much last night…”

Somehow, you’re not surprised. You bite the inside of your cheek as you try not to frown. “It’s okay. We can reschedule.”

“...you sure?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “You don’t feel well and… we have all summer to hang out.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Okay,” Minori rasps out, then she adds, almost an afterthought. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you insist. “Really.”

You could almost swear you hear another voice in the background, one that sounds almost familiar but you ignore it. You ignore it. You ignore it.

“It’s fine,” you repeat. “We have all summer.”

“Right.”

“Just get some rest, okay?”

“Mmhmm… bye.”

“Bye.” The line clicks first on Minori’s end. Your hand drops to your side limply and your phone almost slips from your fingers.

You don’t know how to feel.

On the one hand, she really might have drank too much. You remember seeing a few coolers filled to the brim with booze last night. It’s not impossible that, after you’d left, people, people including Minori, might have really gone to town with the drinking. She definitely could have gotten a hangover from drinking too much.

But something else in the back of your mind insists otherwise, it whispers that there’s something else going on. Her behavior is too suspicious, and it’s getting harder and harder to fight off the notion that she’s doing this on purpose, that she’s avoiding seeing you, avoiding talking to you.

And that hurts.

But what hurts more is that you don’t really know why.

Is it just because you were really bad at talking to her when you were in Tokyo? Or is it something else? You could message her and ask, but you’d rather ask her in person when you can. If you can.

“Satoru.”

You startle at the sound of the merman’s voice, turning toward him. You almost forgot that he was here. He’s watching you curiously, expression unreadable. It makes you a little uncomfortable, like he’s dissecting you.

“What?” Your voice is almost inaudible.

“Satoru,” he repeats and you notice his tone is almost gentle now. “That’s my name.”

“...just Satoru?” you ask, unsure. You actually have little doubt that it’s his name, but it feels a little… too close, too personal to be using his first name when you barely know him.

The merman gives you a wry smile as he dodges your question. “You know, it’s impolite to not offer your name after someone else gives you theirs.”

He’s not wrong, but still you hesitate. You feel like there’s some unspoken significance in giving him your name, like once you do, you’ll be setting something into motion that you won’t be able to stop.

It’s just a name, just your name.

Satoru’s eyes glimmer as you offer it to him and he repeats your name back, as if he’s testing the feel of it in his mouth. Something in your chest stirs at the sound of it, a little voice in the back of your head smugly telling you that it was right, but you ignore it.

With a satisfied hum, he says, tone shifting into something more cheerful, “With that out of the way, there’s no reason we can’t be roommates now, right?”

You stare at him wide eyed. It’s completely beyond you why he’d rather spend his time here, in your parent’s bathroom over being in the big wide ocean, but it’s clear that he has no intent on giving up. Between Satoru keeping you busy all morning and Minori canceling your plans, you don’t really have the energy to fight him any more anyway.

“It’ll be fun, I promise,” Satoru insists with a smile. This one is different from the others you’ve seen from him so far and you wonder if he’s trying to take a different approach to convince you.

Not that he needs to any more; you’re already resigned yourself to your fate.

“...only until I go back to Tokyo, okay?” you relent, squeezing the phone in your hand so hard it might break. This might be a mistake, agreeing to let this merman, to let Satoru stay here for the summer, but it’s fine.

It’s fine.

Satoru beams, bright and triumphant as he echoes. “Only until you go back to Tokyo.”

One trip out of the house to the bathhouse and the store is enough to reduce the discontent you feel from whatever is going on with Minori to just a frustrating buzz in the back of your mind. You know it won’t fully go away until you and Minori actually talk about it, but with the way things are going, who knows when that will be?

Besides, you feel like your hands are going to be too full attending to Satoru to dwell on anything for very long.

You heave everything you got at the store onto the counter. Even though you’d gone just yesterday, the sudden appearance of another mouth to feed demanded another trip. Despite Satoru’s offer to teach you about merfolk culture, he wasn’t particularly helpful when you asked him (this time) what kind of food to get him. Seafood, he’d told you with a snicker, and when you probed for something more substantial than that all he said was to surprise him.

His teaching methods really do leave a lot to be desired.

You did what you could with what little he gave you. Naturally, you bought seafood, two more whole fish, and then some other things, some of them a little… unconventional. It’s fine, though, you made sure to get things you could eat just in case Satoru doesn't like them. And if he doesn't maybe that'll teach him to be a little more specific next time.

"Hey! Are you back?" Satoru's naturally loud voice echoes throughout the house. He must have really good hearing if he heard you shuffling in the kitchen, though you did slam the door pretty loud when you came back in earlier.

"Yeah!" You holler back.

"Perfect! I'm hungry!"

Of course he is. But then again, it's been a bit since he ate that mackerel earlier. Your stomach rumbles in agreement with Satoru. After Minori had called, your hanger and appetite had basically disappeared, but now it seems like it's recovered. Your stomach grumbles again, and you consider eating before bringing Satoru his food, but…

Since you're "roommates" now wouldn't it be better to eat together?

Sharing a meal with Satoru sounds like a mistake, but if he gets too annoying you can just get up and walk away. Nodding to yourself, you grab the things you'd bought to eat and some of the things you'd gotten for Satoru to try and head for the bathroom, stopping by the storage closet on the way.

You find what you're looking for— your mother's bed and bathtub trays— with relative ease. Hopefully, the bathtub tray will sit comfortably on the tub, even with Satoru's massive body in it, if not… you can probably both share the bed tray. You grab both trays and, while it's a little awkward, you manage to carry them both into the bathroom.

Satoru's lounging in the tub, since there's not really much else he can do, his long arms and even longer tail hanging off the edges. You feel bad, even though your parents' luxury tub is huge by human standards, it really is too small for him. Maybe it'd be fine if he could bend his tail the way people bend their legs but you don't know if he can. When you enter, Satoru tilts his head toward you and shoots you a lazy grin. You freeze, remembering again, how stunningly handsome he is.

And then he ruins it, by opening his mouth, eyes on the bag in your hand.

He starts to pout. "Did you bring me another dead fish?"

"They only sell dead fish at the store." You say while you set up the trays as little makeshift tables for you both. Luckily, the bathtub tray fits— just barely— but a win’s a win in your book. When that’s all done, you start to pull everything out of the bags. Satoru watches curiously as you separate your stuff from his. Belatedly, you realize you’ve only really brought him snacks and nothing actually substantial.

“So, what have we got here?” he asks when you’re done.

“Uh, well,” you point at each item, telling him what it is as you sit down next to the tub. “Dried shredded squid, some different kinds of seaweed snacks and dried anchovies.”

Satoru hums and picks up the bag of dried anchovies and examines it, turning it over in his hands. Is he wondering how to open it? You’re about to reach over and show him the notch in the bag that he needs to tear, but he gets to it before you do and rips the bag open. It’s a little impressive that he figured it out on his own. You watch as he reaches his hand in and gingerly pulls out one of the fish. He turns it over in his fingers, looking at it before popping the whole thing in his mouth. You hear the absolute barest crunch as he chews on it.

When he’s done he chucks another one in his mouth as if it were a potato chip. “Not bad.”

You beam, maybe it’s not a glowing review, but still you’re glad to have finally, finally gotten some kind of stamp of approval from Satoru.

He glances at you and his lips ease up into a mischievous smile as he plucks yet another anchovy from the bag and holds it up to your face in offering. “Would you like one too?”

You eye the anchovy anxiously and bite your lip, not sure what to say. Do you tell him? Or do you just bite the bullet?

“What’s with that look?” Satoru asks, pouting. “Do you humans not eat these?”

“Uh…”

The pout becomes more pronounced, his eyebrows furrowing together. “Did you really give me something you wouldn’t eat? How mean.”

“...you said surprise me,” you finally grumble. “I’ve only ever used those in making soup stock— I’ve never eaten them like that.”

In an instant Satoru’s frown is gone as he latches onto the last thing you’ve said. He leans forward excitedly, his eyes shimmering with some kind of predatory joy. “Is that so? That would make this… your first time too?”

He does that thing with his voice again, and your brain goes offline for just a millisecond before booting back up. “Don’t make it weird.”

Satoru smiles, unaffected by your deflection. He waves the anchovy in front of you. “Well? Gonna try?”

You stare at it. It’s not like you’re opposed to it, so why not? It’s Satoru’s first time trying anchovies like this, so in a way would it be fair. You’re drawing the line at letting him hand feed it to you, though. Leaning a little bit back, you take the fish from him and toss it into your mouth. Just as you expected it’s a little crunchy, but more than that the taste is intense and salty, but…

“It’s not bad,” you remark, echoing Satoru’s sentiments. He grins and starts to eat them in earnest, few at a time. You pull at the plastic of one of the rice balls you got for yourself so you can dig in. After a couple bites, you notice out of the corner of your eye that Satoru’s looking at you again. “Mmm?”

“What do you have?”

You swallow what’s in your mouth before you explain. “Just some rice balls and a fruit sando.”

“Why does your food look better than mine?”

“Uh,” you pause, trying to think of how to word it, “My stuff is more… complex, I guess?”

Most of what you got for Satoru is pretty simple, consisting of only an ingredient or two. He huffs, obviously off-put by your answer, and leers at you like he wants something. Then he says, petulant, “I want some.”

You’re almost startled at how straightforward he is about it. Almost.

“I… just wasn’t sure if your stomach would be able to handle more… processed human foods,” you explain. “If… if you really want, we can share. I-I just wouldn’t want you to get sick from something you ate, you know?”

Satoru’s eyes widen slightly at your words, but then he waves his hand almost dismissively, “Nah, it should be fine.”

You’re not so sure, but if he says so. “Okay…”

“So, what's that?” he asks, gesturing to the rice ball in your hand.

“It’s a tuna mayo rice ball. The other one I have has salted salmon.”

“I see.”

You think about the best way to go about sharing the rice ball. Would it be better to just flat out give him your salted salmon rice ball? There’s really no way for you to break off a piece of your rice ball to give him to try without basically breaking the entire thing apart.

Before you can decide on a course of action, Satoru ends up deciding for you. He leans all the way forward, getting all into your personal space so he can take a huge chomp out of the rice ball in your hands. You almost drop the entire thing in shock, and Satoru is either completely unaware or doesn’t even care as he leans back in the tub, grinning with a wicked amusement as he chews.

“That’s pretty good,” he remarks, licking his lips. Your eyes are unfortunate enough to pay a little too much attention to the action.

It takes you a moment to recover and you hand him the rest of the rice ball and say. “Okay, well, you can have the rest of this one and I’ll just have this one to myself.”

“I thought we were sharing?”

“We are,” you insist. “You’re eating that one, and I’m eating this one.”

“But I wanted to try the salted salmon one, too.”

“I… I will get one just for you next time I go to the store, okay?” you offer, hoping that will deter him from invading your personal space again and sinking his teeth into the other rice ball.

It doesn’t.

You’re so lucky that the fruit sando is sliced in two pieces.

next chapter (coming soon) →

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #nikuniku fics #sots fic tag

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erodasfishtacos · 2 years

Text

MANCHESTER NIGHT TWO

prompt: Harry is having his ‘adjustment day’ and everyone has to suffer with him

word count: 7k+

warnings: smut, blood, minors dni 18+

i write for FREE - I am also trying to steer away from paetron so everyone can have access my stories - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.

*thanks to @ladylazarus98 and @fallon-carrington123 for inspo 😙

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it! (this is what motivates me to continue writing)!

*** <- click for visuals throughout the story

As stated before, like clockwork, a couple dates into tour - Harry gets crabby beyond belief.

It’s been happening since the Up All Night Tour.

Give it just a few shows until his body starts to catch up and then he has to get back into the routine which takes some adjustment.

He’s also hasn’t had a stage this big for his tour since One Direction days and now he has a whole stadium to prance around in.

Tour means drastically less sleep, a thousand more pounds of pressure on his shoulders each day, extreme amounts of exhaustion from his actual show, and less time for anything but performing.

Harry has always managed to juggle all these things pretty well except for his sporadic bouts of crabbiness and just overall poor mood.

YN had been used to those for every tour, just waiting for the day to hit, sometimes it was the second tour day and then other times it was the seventh.

It turns out to be his fourth, if you’re including his set at the summer ball in wembley stadium.

Last night, Harry had been so utterly drained from his performance in his hometown that they hadn’t done anything but go to sleep after the show with very little spoken because he was still so overstimulated from everything that day.

YN is up earlier than him which is unusual, he definitely wasn’t fancying a workout after that show last night, he deserved a lay in.

They were staying with Anne, not the same home Harry grew up in but still warm and cozy - with many touches of mum that she knew he missed.

Anne is out to breakfast with a group of her friends, the house is quiet as YN fixes herself a cup of chai tea and sits on a chaise that over looks the well maintained garden.

Nearly an hour later, YN hears slow, heavy footsteps from behind her then a graveling grumbling, “Morning.”

YN already knew, just by the greeting that today was the day but she always had hope that she was wrong though she rarely ever is.

When she turns to look over her shoulder, she sees her husband in just his briefs, hair going every which way, and his face is still puffy from sleep - he looked adorable.

“Come have a cuddle,” YN offers, patting the spot next to her, normally, he would have curled right in next to her and they would have stayed there for a long while.

Harry’s face twists up before he’s shaking his head, “Don’t want a cuddle, I want a coffee. My mum doesn’t have the bloody oat creamer I need. Now I’m shit out of luck, I guess.”

YN wants to roll her eyes at him because the pout on his face is absolutely ridiculous and the way his shoulders are tensed up is dramatic.

“Well, we can go to the market and get some,” YN suggests the obvious option even though she really didn’t want to go through Harry being noticed out in public.

There wasn’t much time before Harry would have to be at the stadium which is still about forty-five minutes away from his mum’s house.

“Fine,” Harry huffs out before turning on his heel to go get dressed, feet still heavy and irritated as they drag against the hardwood floors.

YN knew by now not to personalize it, not to get her feelings hurt because that only made it worse - she tried to avoid any type of confrontation on these days because feeding into the negativity is what he wants - wants others to be in a foul mood like he is.

He returns back downstairs in a low-key outfit of a hoodie, running shorts, and tennis shoes with a beanie and sunglasses - people knew he was in the area, they were going to be on the lookout for him.

YN was already dressed in a pleasing hoodie and leggings, pulling her own hood up and slipping on a pair of sunglasses as well.

Harry’s quiet during the ride into town, his hand on her thigh but he doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t push him - he can get so overwhelmed and overstimulated that it can take a whole day for him to reset.

They’re in the small market, in the dairy aisle, and find a similar enough container of oat creamer that he can use for his coffee.

“Do you think I have enough time for a nap-“ Harry begins to ask quietly as they walk out of the shop after checking out but is cut off by screams.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry mutters under his breath as he noticed a large flock of fans that had formed outside while they were shopping.

Harry doesn’t stop for any pictures, tries his best to acknowledge the fans without stopping to greet them because he just doesn’t have the energy for it.

Despite his grumpiness, he’s always a good husband, pulling YN close to his side as he begins to try to nicely push his way through the group of screaming fans.

“Bloody eight in the morning,” Harry hisses in irritation as they get jostled around by the mass of pushing bodies.

YN feels a sharp pain shoot through her Achilles when someone accidentally steps on the back of her heel with their heavy combat boot.

“Ow! Harry,” YN gasps in surprise as she pauses where she’s standing and squeezing her eyes shut as she tries not to panic - it can get overwhelming so fast.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Harry asks urgently in concern, eyes hardening when he sees the back of her foot bleeding from a scrape - it wasn’t serious but it was preventable and looked like it hurt like hell.

Harry manages to keep a level head but his voice is loud and booming, “Everyone needs to step back. You just made my wife bleed. Give her space for Christ’s sake!”

He’s not yelling but it’s firm enough that everyone takes a step back with surprised eyes at his tone that he rarely ever used with the public.

Harry wraps his arm tightly around YN’s shoulder as he hustles them towards the car, quick as he whips open her door and helps her in - blood pooling in her sandal as it drips.

When he revs up the engine of his Range Rover, the crowd steps back a bit to give him space to peel out of the car park, he’s shaking his head angrily as he goes well over double the speed limit.

He’s quiet again, getting a good bit of distance between them and the market before he’s pulling over at a small empty playground and shoving it into park before he’s out of the car once again.

Harry is opening her door and gently reaching for her ankle, brows furrowed and an angry grimace on his face that highlight the dark circles under his eyes.

“What happened?” He asks as he examines the cut with careful movements, thumb caressing her ankle bone.

“Someone was too close behind me, stepped on my heel with their boot,” YN yelps when he prods at the sensitive skin around the wound and tries to yank her foot away but he grips it firmly.

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes roughly as he steps away to open to boot of the car - scrounging around until he comes back with a water bottle and one of his clean tee shirts from the cleaners which he picked up yesterday, “This might sting a bit.”

YN’s hand grips the handle on the door and squeezing when he begins to pour water over the cut and wipe the dirt from the shoe away with his shirt.

It wasn’t the end of the world but it sure as hurt.

Harry then rips the shirt, without a care that it was an expensive cotton tee from Alessandro himself, and wraps it around her ankle in a makeshift wrap.

YN leans forward after he’s done, wrapping her arms around his neck, and kissing him softly despite how stiff he is, he kisses back.

“Thank you, best husband,” She murmurs against his lips but he actually scoffs and takes a step back, a stormy expression still on his face.

“Yeah, really the best husband,” He frowns, pouring the water over his dirty hands before drying them with a scrap of the shirt, “If I was a good husband, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt or put in the position in the first place.”

His words were sharp, disappointed in himself as he shuts her door and gets back in the driver’s seat, grip on the wheel so tight his knuckles are white.

By the time they get home, YN is frustrated that Harry doesn’t have enough time to lay back down for a nap because sleep exhaustion was not fun.

She really really didn’t want him going out on stage when he was this tired, he always felt frustrated with his performance afterwards which just made everything spiral.

Harry isn’t under the same impression because when they get home, YN is busy cleaning up her foot and telling Anne what happened.

He disappears upstairs, YN assumes to get his items together to take to the stadium but she gets distracted with Anne and the cats.

It isn’t until the shiny black SUV pulls in to chauffeur them that YN realizes that she hasn’t seen Harry in about half an hour.

When she trails up to the bedroom they’re staying in, she sees him fast asleep ontop of the covers, he hadn’t even taken his tennis shoes off he was that deprived of sleep.

YN felt awful when she had to sit next to him on the bed and gently rub her hand over his chest, whispering, “H, need you to get up.”

It reminded her of his One Direction days.

They were so overworked.

All the boys ran in less than five hours of sleep and were expected to work every moment they were awake.

From recording to interviews to having cameras for documentaries shoved in their faces every other minute - they were constantly spread thin.

They were tucked away in a tiny tour bunk on top, the curtains drawn and they were both fast asleep with Harry’s nose buried in her neck.

After concerts lately, the team had been making the boys stay up even later to record for their next album - no care for how much they just wanted to go to sleep.

When Harry would finally crawl into the bunk, after a concert and then two hours of studio time, it would be two in the morning.

He would be asleep in a minute flat, YN could barely get a goodnight or I love you in before he was nuzzling into her and snoring.

It was like that tonight, they had just performed in Paris and it was an unusually hot night on stage - the heat had Harry’s hair matted to his neck where it fell out of his bun.

The heat always made it harder on their bodies to perform, running around that massive stage, and on a running timer of little sleep.

When Harry had ran off stage after the finale of Best Song Ever, he’s grabbing YN’s hand and rasping, “Just want to shower with you and sleep for days. C’mon before they try to grab me to record.”

They find him, however, before he can get onto the tour bus, and demand that he come record the chorus for Fireproof.

“Just want a shower and to sleep. Is it that much to ask for?” Harry grumbles unhappily before giving YN a kiss and pat to her bum, “I’ll miss you. I’ll try not to wake you when I get in.”

He always did. But it was okay.

It was nearly three hours later when Harry is crawling up the ladder and pushing the curtain back so he can slide into the bunk next to her before pulling the fabric back in place.

He smelled good of his normal eucalyptus body wash and mint shampoo, he was still a little damp like he didn’t want to towel off, and he was just in his briefs as he nestled in next to her.

“Mmm,” YN hums drowsily, acknowledging him as she wiggles back into him and sighing happily when he wraps his arm around her and kisses the nape of her neck.

“Sorry for waking you,” Harry whispers sleepily, planting a few more kisses along her neck and shoulders.

“What time is it?” She mumbles half- asleep still as she helps him pull the blankets over his body too.

“About four in the morning,” He tells her before being interrupted with a yawn as he begins it’s his head on the same pillow as her.

YN vaguely remembers huffing out that it was too late and that he needed sleep but by the time those syrupy words rolled off her tongue, Harry was already dead to the world.

Not much time could have passed before fluorescent light is infiltrating their little nest and a deep voice is announcing, “Time to get up.”

YN squints the light away, grabbing blindly at her phone to check the time.

“It’s six on the morning, Paul. Harry just got into bed at four,” She tells him through a groan, her boyfriend hadn’t even stirred yet.

“Don’t know what to tell you. They have a jammed packed day, no wiggle room. Harry, wake up,” Paul’s voice is louder this time before he’s pulling open the curtains to everyone else’s bunks.

YN knows Harry’s awake when he inhales sharply before taking a lazy, long breath out - lips smacking together against the skin of her neck.

She brings her hand to card through his long lock, nearly to his shoulders. They’re fluffy and soft from his shower the night before.

“I’m so tired,” Harry mumbles sleepily, eyes still shut as he nuzzles further into her body, “I feel like m’gonna die if I keep running on two hours of sleep every night.”

“I hate seeing you this exhausted,” YN replies sadly, massaging his scalp for a moment longer before Paul’s making his rounds to make sure they’re out of bed.

Harry still looked like that same sleepy boy right now as he sniffles and digs his face further into the pillow in resistance.

“H, the car’s here already,” YN tells him, letting her hand drift down the warm muscle of his tattooed bicep and forearm.

His eyes blink open harshly, pausing to process for a moment before he’s grunting, “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner? Only been asleep for a minute and now we have to go. Bloody ridiculous.”

YN rolls her eyes as he pushes himself off the bed with a irate grumble, he begins shoving stuff in his tote bag, and cursing to himself.

She knows by now not to take it personal, to not argue because it only makes things worse. Sometimes that’s easier said than done but not when it comes to little things like this.

When YN goes to hike her own duffle over her shoulder, Harry hip bumps her, and lugs it over his own - like she said, even when he’s grumpy he’s an amazing husband.

“See you at the stadium in a few hours,” YN tells Anne, giving her a kiss on the cheek and allowing her to wrap her in a motherly hug

“Bye mum,” Harry says bluntly, giving her a wave before he’s stepping up into the car and shutting the door.

Anne looks at YN with a confused expression, taken aback by the curt behavior of her son.

YN waves her hand dismissively, “It’s not you. I think today’s his adjustment day.”

That’s what they all referred to it as.

“Well, it’s definitely his adjustment day,” YN scoffs in agitation as she slams shut the dressing room door and heads out to where the rest of the band is hanging out, “Date six this time.”

The boys chuckle because they know exactly what she’s talking about by their third tour, he’s just like clockwork.

A few minutes later, Harry admerges in his tight black skinny jeans, loose button-up, and a headscarf holding his curls back.

“Where’s YN?” He demands when he doesn’t see her anywhere in the vicinity.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been a douche at soundcheck and we’d tell you,” Louis shrugs, not bothering to look up from the video game he's playing with Zayn.

“You can go fuck yourself,” Harry snaps instantly, jaw clenching as he storms past his bandmates who just ignore him anyways.

He was normally the kindest, least problematic out of all of them so they’d let his bad days slide more easily than with each other.

YN is currently pouring herself a glass of fresh squeezed mango juice from the Kraft service table when Harry finds her.

“You know I love you,” Harry murmurs quietly as he steps behind her, she can feel him pressing up against her.

“I would hope so,” She replies with a chuckle, taking a sip before saying, “If not, we just wasted quite a few years.”

“Are you mad at me?” He pushes, ignoring the dirty look she gives him when he takes the cup out of her hand and swigs down the juice she’d just poured - he reaches around her to refill it.

“No,” YN sighs as she takes the glass back, leaning back into him, “Just hated days when you’re like this. It’s hard for me to watch. You just get worn so thin and get so mentally tired that it makes me sad to see you get pushed so much.”

“It’ll get better, in a few years, when I’m on my own,” Harry promises as he leans in to kiss her temple, hands squeezing her hips, “If I ever get the chance to do a solo tour.”

Oh, would he.

A sold out stadium tour to be exact.

And he wasn’t lying, when he went solo things did get a lot better.

He wasn’t spread as thin as ice constantly, everyday of the year but maybe now half the year - only when he’s touring or promoting but he definitely had a bit more down time for self-care.

It was the back-to-back concerts, like Glasgow, Capital Ball, Manchester night one, and now night two before Wembley, she was so proud she could burst at the seams.

Harry had been just a moody during soundcheck, a frown etching his lips downward as he kept an annoyed expression on his face.

“S’too loud.”

“I say it’s too loud so you turn the volume up?”

“Okay. Why is it suddenly becoming difficult to get this right? We’ve done it a million times before.”

Fans idealized who Harry is as a person.

That’s not saying that he isn’t wonderful and kind but he is human, this is the side YN gets too which is part of being in a marriage - the good and the bad.

People blog about how perfect their relationship must be, how Harry must bring her flowers in bed everyday, and never get cross with her.

Harry Styles the brand isn’t the same as Harry Styles the person.

Most people get the brand, very few get the person.

YN feels bad as she watches the audio techs scramble to make it right, bickering between each other as they fumble with the buttons and switches.

The soundcheck was already running too close to showtime which YN knows has Harry on edge, the fans will be let in almost as soon as they’re done - he’ll have to start getting ready.

—

“Hey!” YN squeaks, giggling quietly as she looks around the hallway, “Harry, you don’t have much time before you have to go on stage!”

“Shush up and let me kiss you before the boys find us,” Harry leans in, connecting their lips as he’s pushing her back against the wall.

“Oi! Styles, get your arse to the stage! What did I tell you about distracting him?” Preston barks at them as he’s trying to taper down a smile by putting his hands on hips like he means business.

Harry grumbles as he gives her one more kiss before bumping their noses together, “Want to go get pizza after the show?”

“Isn’t as easy as before. Now you need security and approval,” YN murmurs but there’s no heat behind the words, “I’d love to get pizza later.”

She reaches up to adjust his bandana, he looks like a frat boy with his golden dark tan, black cut-off tank, and ripped skinny jeans.

“Styles! I mean it! Now!”

“Bloody hell! M’coming!” Harry shouts back before flipping him the bird.

Harry picks a fight with Harry Lambert about his outfit, complaining about nothing and refusing any replacement item.

Everyone already knows he’s going to wear what was originally planned but he has to complain that the zipper was too flimsy or the shirt didn’t mesh with the shoes.

He didn’t want the three other shirt options and so he goes back to the original but debates over his shoes for nearly twenty minutes.

Lambert looks like he wants to strangle him by the time it’s over.

Usually, Harry would slip into his clothes with any issue as they planned these outfits in advance and Harry had specifically approved every single one.

YN isn’t in the room when Jeff chews Harry out about how he acted today at the grocery store, how he should have stopped and taken pictures, and signed autographs.

She misses that Harry had just told his best friend and manager to fuck off and leave him alone, to not come near him at all, and mind his own business.

YN had been sat with Anthony Pham as he clicked through pictures from the night before on his laptop, he landed on an action shot of Harry jumping up the few stairs when he was going crazy during ‘Satellite’.

She had meant to warn Harry to be careful about doing that and he had just happened to be storming out of his dressing room when she looks up.

“H, baby,” YN calls, unsure of where he was heading but he stops in his tracks and meets her gaze with a tight jaw.

“What?” Flat. Blunt.

“Anthony was just showing me some pictures from last night. Please be careful when you jump those stairs. It might drizzle and if you slip, you’re really going to get hurt,” YN tells him softly, it wasn’t pestering or nagging - it was because she cared and thought she’d remind him.

His face pinches up even more as he listens before he’s booming out, “I’m not a fucking baby. I don’t need to be told that. S’my show and I’ll do what I want.”

YN takes a deep breath, steadying herself so that she doesn’t match his negative energy but inside, she’s absolutely livid with him.

“You’re right, Harry. It is all your show, popstar. You do what you want,” YN scoffs as the angry rising up in her chest before she’s giving Anthony a pat on the shoulder before she’s walking away the from the situation.

Popstar.

When YN used it, it was an insult. It was to highlight how spoiled or egocentric he was being. Every time she says it in that context, it triggers him.

“I don’t want to go out tonight. I’m saying no and it’s final,” Harry huffs firmly, sitting on the couch in their first London flat.

“You promised me last week that you would come with us, H. Everyone’s expecting you and I want you to come as well,” YN bites back as she stands at their kitchen counter.

“No. It was leaked that I was back in London. Everyone knows I’m here. I’m not going out to just be bombarded with fans and paparazzi tonight. I’m not doing it after a three week long press tour for This Is Us.”

“Fine,” YN mutters, slamming her cup down a little harsher than necessary, “It’s much more important than what I want. Right, popstar?”

“That’s not what I said! You bloody know that I hate when you call me that!” Harry raises his voice, running a hand through his curls.

“Then stop acting like a spoiled little popstar!” YN retorts hotly, she logically knew she was the one being a little over dramatic - she just had not liked his tone.

His face instantly turns into a deeper scowl when he hears it, his teeth gritting together as he stares intently at her back before following after her.

“Don’t walk away from me,” Harry demands lowly as he takes strides behind her, “M’not being a popstar, I just don’t need mothered.”

YN spins on her heel, crossing her arms, “I’ve been plenty plenty patient with you today. My patience has run out. You need to adjust your attitude or you can sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Rather that anyways,” Harry hisses brattily, kissing the back of his teeth - YN can see straight through the rough guy act.

Anyone else would be intimidated by his broad shoulders, stoney glare, and clenched jaw but not her, not one bit, she doesn’t back down.

“Don’t come crying to me when you hurt yourself on stage,” She shrugs casually before shaking her head in disbelief at his overall attitude today.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry rumbles back before he’s storming off, back towards his dressing room before he’s swinging open the door and slamming it shut.

YN has to chuckle because even on his worst days, like today, he’s just a little brat but never gets to the point where YN feels anything but a mixture of annoyance and fondness.

YN inhales deeply to let the annoyance flow out of her body as she walks towards Harry Lambert to get her outfit for the show.

It was a simple light washed gucci jumpsuit, the denim was the same color as the denim that made up Harry’s overalls. ***

(imagine them in the same color denim as Harry’s)

YN was planning on a cute pair of mule heels but with the cut on the back of her ankle, she figured she better go for something more comfortable.

She decided to just keep on her slides, she was going to stay off to the side of the stage tonight - about halfway through the show Anne and everyone else would join her.

It’s nearing showtime when YN realizes she hasn’t seen Harry in a hot minute as she sees Jeff storming down the hallway - near red in the face.

“What’s going on?” YN questions with concern as she sees Harry jogging down the long corridor towards the stage.

“He fell asleep and now he’s pissed that he only has five minutes until showtime,” His manager huffs before he’s mumbling an update on his walkie.

“Maybe if somebody fuckin’ woke me up!” Harry complains boisterously as he’s tucking his ear pieces into and hustling towards the stage where he now has less than a minute until showtime.

He’s too distracted by being rushed to the stage by the crew for YN to wish him luck or anything like that but YN finds a storage box to sit on - on side stage.

She can feel the camera flashes not only on Harry but on her as well, it was always awkward to remember that people would film her watching Harry and post it as well.

The show is going fine, Harry seems to be a little more subdued than the night before but overall he always manages to put on a great performance and his fans won’t be able to tell.

Towards the end of the show, a light drizzle begins to fall and coat the stage - making it slippery and what YN had warned against.

As Harry is going crazy during Satellite, he starts jogging backwards down the long catwalk before turning quickly to jump up onto the platform - skipping the three steps.

YN’s heart drops when she sees his face twist into grimace before he’s covering his expression with a forced smile again.

He hadn’t tripped or tumbled over but he most definitely had landed funny on his ankle, just like YN had ‘mothered’ him about.

It must be bothering him because he does not jump around nor does he run for the rest of the show, babying that foot.

YN’s first reaction is to be furious with him, she told him this would happen and he was in such a poor mood that he got angry instead and ended up hurting himself.

She wants to scream ‘I told you so’ as soon as he steps off the stage but she not going to make the situation even worse than it already was.

After the show, all of their friends and family who attended were supposed to go out to eat at a restaurant Jeff had paid out to have for the night.

However when Harry jogs off stage gingerly before slowing to a slow walk as soon as he’s out of the eye line of fans.

YN is waiting for him like always, feels a bit of warmness when he comes to her, dipping down to kiss her before pulling back and murmuring, “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” YN murmurs, thumbing a stray curl off his damp forehead, “You going to go shower before we head out to The River’ Edge?”

Harry’s face turns stormy for the hundredth time of the day, he shakes his head adamantly as he straightens back up, “No, m’not going. I just want to go back home.”

YN already knows why but still prompts, “Why?”

“Why? Because I just bloody did a show for nearly eighty thousand people and I want to relax, not entertain fifty more,” Harry huffs like it’s obvious, crossing his arms and pouting out his bottom lip.

She’s actually relieved that he doesn’t want to go because she know his attitude wouldn’t have been any better there and this miserable day would have just dragged on.

YN’s heel was still hurting, the skin tender and sore, and she didn’t feel like walking anymore tonight either but the only thing she was worried about was Jeff.

He wasn’t going to be happy that Harry wasn’t attending his own party.

“Go get out of your stage clothes and I’ll go tell Jeff that we’re going to head home,” YN reaches up and rubs at his shoulder before turning to find his manager.

“Okay,” Harry grumbles before stalking off towards his dressing room, it was amazing what a mask he could put on when he has to for his job.

When YN finds Jeff and pulls him aside, he’s just as livid as expected and his patience is minimal based on his argument with Harry earlier.

“Why can’t anyone fucking listen to me?” Jeff shouts in frustration, he seems to have already had a few drinks in his system.

“Can you not control your husband for a fucking minute?”

“We’ve had this planned for months! There’s no reason to cancel.”

As Jeff continues to rant, YN is speechless as she’s being screamed at for something she didn’t even do but she was guilty by association because Harry was her husband.

However, Jeff becomes eerily silent suddenly as YN feels familiar hands grip her hips and pull her back into the strong, muscular chest of her husband.

“I know for a fact, you weren’t just raising your voice at my wife,” Harry states in an unsettlingly calm tone as he moves to step in front of her.

Jeff looks guilty as he glances between the couple.

Then Harry’s voice raises in volume, startling YN with the deep bravado that rumbles from deep within his chest, “I said I know you’re not raising your voice at my wife. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m sorry,” Jeff relents with a sigh, raising his hands in surrender, “I just am frustrated that the party -“

“I don’t need to hear your excuses,” Harry cuts in, moving his hand to intertwine with YN’s as he begins to pull her away, “Don’t let me catch you talking to her like that ever again or there will be major, major problems. Understand?”

Jeff nods, embarrassed by everyone around them staring at the spectacle as Harry directs YN down the hall towards the exit of the stadium where there’s a car waiting.

They don’t speak during the walk, Harry stills spun tight and his shoulders are tensed up as he ignores all the crew ogling him with excitement and amazement.

In the SUV, Harry kicks off his sneakers which he typically doesn’t do so YN takes that as another sign that his ankle is bothering him.

Harry is the biggest baby when he’s hurt usually.

He wants to be cuddled, soothed, and wants YN’s full attention at all times (which isn’t very different from everyday for them).

But he’s stubborn and grumpy as all get out.

He goes easily when YN wraps her hand gently around his neck and directs him until he’s laying across the backseat with her nails scratching at his scalp as he blinks heavily, trying to stay awake.

The ride’s not even an hour but Harry drifts off after only a few minutes after the car pulls out of the stadium lot.

He’s groggy as YN unlocks the front door to Anne’s house and leads him up the stairs where he disappears into the bathroom to shower.

YN disappears downstairs to scrounge through the freezer until she’s grabbing a solid bag of frozen peas and pouring herself a glass of water, as well as one for him with a few pain reliever pills.

When she enters back into their room, she changes out of her denim outfit and into a cute pajama set because she didn’t want to sleep in her underwear at her mother-in-law's house. ***

Harry comes out soon after, not one for long showers when he’s sleepy and has just a tight pair of briefs on as he rubs his eyes. ***

“C’mere,” YN pats the space next to her on the bed then grabs the cold bag of vegetables.

“What are those for?” Harry grumps as he subtly limps to the bed and plops down heavily right up against her.

“For the ankle you hurt on stage,” YN raises her eyebrow at him before nodding down to where it’s swollen and bruising.

“I didn’t,” He argues instantly, defensive with his hackles up and knitted brows, “Don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re imagining shit.”

“Mmm, must be,” YN replies nonchalantly, tossing the bag back onto the bedside table and acting like she’s wriggling down to get ready for bed - refusing to give into his antics.

Harry grunts and grumbles for a few minutes, turning and squirming because he does want YN to baby him and he’s fighting against himself.

YN is faced away from him, trying to taper down her smile when he finally relents after a painful day of attitude, “Want you to ice my ankle, baby.”

She flips to her other side before sitting back up, biting the inside of her cheek and shaking her head fondly, she loved her overly worked, exhausted husband so fucking much.

“Yeah?” YN hums softly, welcoming Harry when he leans over and nuzzles into her throat, “Ready to let me take care of you?”

“M’sorry,” Harry whispers against her skin, lips brushing against her pulse point, “I never get better at dealing with my adjustments to tour.”

“Been like this since you’ve been sixteen,” YN tells him as she directs Harry to move until his foot is in her lap and she’s wrapping a dish towel around the bag and pressing it to his ankle.

“Think I just landed funny, hopefully it will feel better in the morning,” Harry frowns, hissing at the cold touch before relaxing against it.

“Hopefully,” YN repeats as she keeps it pressed there, her thumb rubbing at his skin in soothing circles to calm him.

Harry pauses for a moment before acknowledging, “You were right, shouldn’t have been jumping ‘round like that when it was wet. Will you forgive me for acting like a prat today?”

“I forgive you every time,” YN giggles with a shake of her head, “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have let you put a ring on it.”

“We’re twenty eight now. Don’t regret letting me wife you up at nineteen?” Harry’s voice has taken a deeper rasp, he’s totally using his sex voice right now because despite how tired or injured he is - he will still try to get it in.

“Never for a moment. Got to marry the famous Harry Styles, breaking new records with every album, fat bank account. It’s working out alright,” YN teases coyly, goosebumps decorating her skin as Harry’s gaze gets more directed and intense.

“Yeah? Just married me for my money and fame?” Harry rumbles, leaning down to toss the bag of peas on the floor.

“And your big cock,” She smirks as her eyes drop to where he’s noticeably hardening and filling out the thin fabric, pushing against it to make more room.

“Always been a fan of that, hm? Never complain, exact opposite actually. Constantly begging for, for me to fill you up just right,” Harry’s fully turning himself on at this point as he grips the bottom of her sleep shirt.

She smacks his hands off, “Think you can act like an utter brat all day and still get the goods?”

“Said M’sorry,” Harry bites back, persistent as he reaches out again and YN lets him pull it over her head, her bare chest revealed, “Plus, s’your wifely duty. Be a nice little thing and let me ‘ave you.”

Those words shouldn’t make her as wet as they do.

“Should make you just make me come and not let you,” YN gasps as he ducks down, puffy lips wrapping around her nipple and pulling it into his mouth.

He pulls back for a moment, a cocky smirk on his face as he says, “We both know m’coming tonight. Let it drip out of you.”

“H,” YN whines at his filthy words as he bits at her nipples as he’s shimmying her shorts and panties off her hips in one fluid motion.

It’s not how she saw their night ending but she definitely wasn’t complaining.

There’s not any preamble because even though he’s horny, he’s tired, and doesn’t have the energy to go at it for hours.

He slips in with no resistance, moaning loudly into her mouth as he begins a steady, harsh rhythm that hits her spot every odd stroke and his thumb is tight on her clit to make sure she falls off the edge with him.

It’s only mere minutes after they finish that Harry is snoring softly into her neck, while body wrapped around hers - thigh swung over her legs, arm across her tummy.

It’s something that never gets old to her.

There’s millions and millions of people who adore Harry, they want in every way imagineable, they make it known by coming to his concerts in swarms.

People have been obsessed with him since he was sixteen.

But despite all that, Harry never changes.

He craves attention but he needs it the most from his wife. He lives for being able to snuggle and hang all over her at all times. He needs her to be there to take care of him and tell him he’s doing a good job

He’ll always just be Harry to her.

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putellas11 · 1 year

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A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! 🎁🎄 So happy to participate in the Christmas Writing Challenge alongside such an amazing group of writers. Thank you to @nytb for putting all this together! Check out @nytb’s fic that was posted earlier as well as @redhairedwolfwitch's fic coming out soon!

Small but Meaningful (Mapi Leon x Reader)

You’re not one to make impulsive decisions. It’s crucial to think things through and carefully consider all the pros and cons before making a final verdict. It doesn’t matter if it's deciding on a new job or a new pair of shoes, the process is the same.

To you, this is completely normal. It’s the way you’ve always been. To others, however, it’s a little extreme. Everyone in your life, at some point or another, has encouraged you to be more spontaneous. To not think things through so much and to just go with the flow. But, they quickly realize that it’s just not in your nature.

And yet, you managed to fall in love with one of the most impulsive human beings you’ve ever met. Unlike you, María Pilar León rarely gives more than five minutes of thought to any decision. If her heart calls for it, she will do it. Mapi doesn’t fear consequences. She knows she can handle anything and everything that is thrown her way. And that’s why you love her so much.

Her tattoos are a perfect example of this. One night, the two of you are just lying in bed, scrolling through social media and occasionally showing each other a funny video or meme.

And then all of the sudden, Mapi sits up with a gasp, “me encanta!”

On her screen is a tattoo design of a skull with an outline of a light bulb. The moment you see it, you know the two of you will be in a tattoo parlour in less than 24 hours.

And just as you predicted, you’re now sitting next to Mapi as she discusses a few modifications to the design with the artist. Within seconds, Mapi made a decision that can last forever. She liked it, so she’s getting it. For her, it’s that easy.

You’ve thought about getting a tattoo before. The idea initially excites you, but once you really start thinking about it, you end up talking yourself out of it. Although Mapi’s personality and perspective on life have certainly rubbed off on you a little, just the thought of getting a tattoo gives you a headache.

With the design finalized, Mapi can barely contain her excitement. “Do you like it?” she asks, looking at you with a sparkle in her eye.

You may never actually get one yourself, but that doesn’t mean you don’t appreciate the beauty of tattoos. Not to mention how hot they look on your girlfriend.

“I love it, babe.”

Mapi, satisfied to hear your answer, leans back to allow the artist to apply the stencil to her skin.

“And when will I have the honor of tattooing you, Y/N?” asks the artist, still focused on her work.

Mapi stifles her laughter. She, of all people, knows the chances of you ever getting a tattoo are slim, if non-existent.

“Por favor, don’t make me laugh,” Mapi shakes her head, a teasing smile on her lips, “I think her brain would short-circuit trying to pick out a tattoo.”

You nod, in full agreement with Mapi. “Not an exaggeration.”

“You should have seen her last week trying to pick out a new toothbrush. She had like five tabs opened on her phone, just reading review after review.”

You squint your eyes at Mapi, giving her a little kick. “Hey! It was a big decision and it didn’t even take me that long to decide, anyway.”

“Remind me again how long it took you?”

You look down at the floor, feeling a little warmth creeping up behind your neck, “I don’t know,” you mumble, “like 30 minutes.”

Mapi turns to the artist and gives them a clear and obvious, I told you so, look. “You see what I’m dealing with?”

“I’ll get one, one day…” you say, trying your best to sound confident.

“Sure you will, baby. Sure you will.”

You and Mapi may be two very different people, that doesn’t mean you don’t share a few similarities. Like Mapi, you are very competitive. The very few times in your life when you’ve said, fuck it, without thinking of the consequences, have been for the sake of winning.

“Go ahead, underestimate me. That’ll be fun.”

Mapi, noticing the change in your tone, blows a kiss in your direction. She loves to tease you, but also knows not to push you too much. Unlike so many others in your past, she never wants to make you feel bad for what some might consider a flaw.

“You could always just be a little one, y’know,” the artist says, working on the lines of the tattoo “and if it means something to you, even better. Small but meaningful.”

You remain relatively quiet for the remainder of the session, lost in thought. What the artist said resonated with you.

Small, but meaningful.

___________

For the first time in years, you don’t have to stress about what to get Mapi for Christmas. She has loved every gift you’ve given her in the past — no matter how simple or expensive the gift. But still, you agonize for months on what to get her.

Now, just a few days before Christmas, you’ve never been so calm. Of course, Mapi has noticed how out of the ordinary this is for you.

“Something’s not right,” she says, standing in front of the TV and blocking your view.

“What do you mean?”

Mapi looks you up and down, “you’re acting weird.”

“How am I acting weird?”

“Two days before Christmas and you’re sitting here, watching TV, calm as a cucumber.”

“And what’s so weird about that?” you try to look past Mapi and at the screen, acting oblivious as to what the big deal is.

Mapi snaps her fingers at you in an attempt to get your attention, “you should be freaking out!” she exclaims. “This is like the most stressful time of year for you. I mean, did you just decide not to get me a gift this year?”

“I already know what I’m getting you, amor” you tell her, brushing her off.

“You do?”

“Mhmm.”

Mapi squints her eyes at you, one eyebrow slightly perked in suspicion. She knows you have something up your sleeve, but you know she’ll never be able to guess as to exactly what.

For the next two days, you find Mapi snooping under the bed, in the closet, in every cabinet and every possible hiding spot in the apartment. If you were able to decide on a gift so quickly, it must be a good one.

Now, sitting together under the Christmas tree, Mapi’s gift is still nowhere in sight.

“I can’t take this anymore!” she says, tapping her knees impatiently, “come on, stop messing with me and give me my gift.”

You’re just as excited to show Mapi her gift as she is to receive it. Her impatience is to be understood. This is the first gift you've given her that did not require any second guessing out of fear that she’ll hate it.

Wanting to draw out the suspense, your movements are slow. Very carefully you tug up the sleeve of your Christmas sweater. Mapi can’t help but lean forward when she sees the reindeer band-aid on your wrist.

“What happened?” she asks with concern. The gift is suddenly of no interest to her.

“Go ahead, take it off,” you encourage her. Now only a few seconds away from the reveal, you can’t help the grin spreading across your face.

Mapi delicately pulls on the end of the band-aid until a small, number 4, can be seen. As soon as she sees it, she leans back. A puzzled look on her face.

“What is that?” she asks, refusing to believe what she's seeing.

“What do you think it is?”

Mapi shakes her head, refusing to even believe the possibility. “No, I don't believe you” she says, leaning in again to get a closer look. “It can’t be real.” She wets her finger and tries to wipe away the number, but there it remains.

“I know I tend to overthink everything and that it drives you crazy sometimes — even though I know you’ll never admit it,” you tug her chin so she’s looking you in the eyes, “but if there’s one thing, I’m hundred percent certain of, it’s you.”

Mapi melts under your touch. She’s perfectly aware of how big of a decision this was for you and the fact that she’s the inspiration for your first tattoo makes it all that more special.

“I love it,” Mapi gives you a big smile and leans in to give you a soft and tender kiss, “and I love you,” she says against your lips.

Her reaction is everything you hoped for and more.

“I have so many cool designs to show you!” she says, shaking you side to side with her hands on your shoulders.

You put up your hand to stop her, “wait, don't you get too excited now.”

But it's too late. Mapi's already reaching for her phone.

#mapi leon x reader #mapi leon imagine #woso x imagine #woso x reader

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goldustwomun · 2 years

Text

right where you left me (m.m.)

pairing: matt murdock x reader

summary: snippets of how you once met matt murdock accidentally, and then purposefully on the same day every year.

warnings: smut; oral (m receiving); fingering (f receiving); p in v sex; angst; time jumps; giving november 9th by colleen hover xoxo; unedited <3

wc: 4.6k+

note: she’s baaaack! i’ve been barely motivated to get this done for the past month (????) but here it is! finally! it’s based on a request but i cannot for the life of me find it now xoxo and i’m not sure how much i will be writing given the fact that i’ve started uni (first year shit and all that), but i will do my best :) hope you all enjoy!!

It was a fluke that you had even shown up to the bar on the corner of 34th street, the border of Hell’s Kitchen and about as far as Matt would ever venture. You didn’t think he’d show up, knowing he had his own firm to take care of now, a life, a job, a potential partner or whatever it was he called them.

You knew all of this, not because he had told you, but because a month earlier, when you’d been drunk out of your mind on a Monday night, weeping into an empty bottle of wine you’d opened and finished yourself, you’d opened your laptop and typed his name into the search bar, stomach clenching at every bit of information you found.

And you knew – the pesky feeling had scratched at your mind until past midnight – that it had been almost a year and he had most definitely moved on from the almost one-night-stand the two of your shared, while you still felt him lurking in your bones, stuck like molasses on the edge of a spoon.

But it’s Matt Murdock, for crying out loud.

Of course he would be the one you would never get over. How could you let go of the man who sensed your every worry despite only having met an hour prior, sent you swoon worthy upturns of mouths that had you wanting to kiss those cheeky grins right off of his face? The man who stared like he could really, truly, see you?

You’d asked yourself all of that and more in the past thirty minutes, casually swirling the teaspoon in your stale cup of coffee, needing a clear state of mind as the jetlag had your eyes begging to shut. Coffee at a bar was never the right idea but you were desperate, in more ways than one.

There’s no way he remembered, you reasoned internally, doing your best to not stare too intensely out of the glass window you sat by. Everyone, out there on the street, moved with a precision and purpose you’d lacked in the last year. You could feel yourself flailing in the dark, grasping at the ends of things and people and emotions you could never get a firm grip on.

So this, the coffee and the possibility of him, of more, was a last ditch attempt of soothing that phantom ache.

If he showed up, even though you knew he wouldn’t, maybe you’d be able to get back that piece of your heart he took with him when he left the last time. You hadn’t realised it was gone until you were already in the cab, the airport your final destination, where you clutched your chest and felt a newfound emptiness, a lightness you never asked for, that hadn’t been there a day earlier.

One year ago, you met Matt Murdock by accident. You drank and laughed and blushed at everything he threw your way, and said thank you even when you could sense he was about to leave you wounded and alone all over again. You were beyond desperate, for reasons unknown to even you, for another drink, another joke, another hidden caress under the table, so you did what any sane person would in such close proximity to someone so God-like, so Devilish.

“How about this, I’ll meet you back here in a year, and we can pick up where we left off?”

He chuckled into his drink, setting it down then shifting in his seat to face you, and the moment his knee knocked into yours, you knew you were a goner. “And where is it that we’re leaving off, hm?” He had a way of making even the most simplest of situations and sentences charged with an unfathomable tension.

“Well I think, and please, correct me if I’m wrong– but I think you’re about to ask me to your place and maybe, possibly… fuck my brains out?” You said it like a question, leaving enough room to label it as some unnecessarily complex joke if he seemed at all deterred.

Instead, he leaned closer, breath curling against the sensitive shell of your ear while his hand, large and calloused, gripped the bare expanse of your inner thigh. You snapped your legs shut instinctively, trapping his hand in between them, and he only smirked like that was exactly what he wanted: to be between your legs forever.

“I’m not that kind of guy, sweetheart,” he teased breathlessly. Liar.

You shook your head, then remembering yourself, skimmed your nose up the line of his jaw until you were mimicking his position. “I think you’re exactly that kind of guy. And guess what?” you prompted, and he responded with a nick of his teeth against your skin– “I’m that kind of girl, as well.”

Looking back, none of it made sense to you and it probably hadn’t to him either, but in that moment of alcohol-induced lust, it was the sexiest thing you could think of given how dumb and foolish he had left you in such little amount of time.

You left the bar soon after to catch a red-eye back home, to your normal, brutally mundane, everyday life of sleep, work, eat, repeat– no time for handsome strangers with wandering hands and inappropriate promises.

A chair scraped against the wood-panelled floors next to you, the sound irritating enough to paint a scowl across your face that you planned to aim at whatever idiot–

Oh.

Oh. “Huh, funny bumping into you. Mind if I sit?”

It took all of five minutes for the two of you to drag the other into the bathroom, thanking whatever God there was up there, looking down at the two of you pawing at each other, for the single stall.

“That’s it sweetheart, open up for me,” Matt cooed, tugging your chin down as he painted his cock across your lips, hissing abruptly when your tongue skimmed out to lick at his weeping slit. He couldn’t stop his hips from bucking up, forcing the entire head into your awaiting mouth, all hot and wet and exactly as he’d imagined it. Fucking heaven.

Matt gathered your hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail as he thrust shallowly into you, mouth hung open in awe or shock, you weren’t entirely sure. But it was perfect, he was perfect, panting and gasping and entirely ruffled from your hands with his pants shucked down and his shirt half buttoned.

You looked up through bleary eyes, the tears stinging them shut but you persisted, not wanting to miss a moment of him in all his annoying beauty, looking entirely like some sort of fallen angel with the halo of yellowed light around him from the flickering bulbs in the bathroom.

“You’re doing so well, sweethe–fuck!” You swallowed around him, your nails dug into his bare thighs, whining around his length and pulling at the short hairs in admonishment but he retaliated with a sharp tug on your hair, halting your movements as he guided you to stand up, the hard length of him jabbing into your hips as he pressed his mouth roughly to yours.

“Be good for me now, I’ve waited an entire year for this and don’t need you acting like a brat.”It was deliciously mean and exactly how you wanted it, so all you could do was nod with pleading eyes, whining your acceptance and submission.

His tongue flicked out across your puffed lips, swollen and pink, and he moaned at the taste of him on your tongue. You almost lost it right then and there, unable to cope with the pretty sounds he was making as they scraped at your insides, as heat filled your belly.

He was how you remembered, as attentive and giving as he had been a year earlier.

When he slid in next to you, face already pulled up in a sardonic smirk and hand sliding up your thigh– surprising enough that you admittedly choked a little on your coffee, you’d eventually found yourself whispering, begging, for something hard, Matt, something hard and fast and a little mean.

You don’t know where it came from, and from the conflicted look on his face, neither did he. He wasn’t a naturally cruel person, had that kind of warm, gooey smile that lit up the whole damn universe, but something flickered in his expression and he was, soon enough, gripping your wrist tight enough to bruise, urging you quietly in your ear to find the bathroom because he needed you now.

Maybe later, when you tried to rationalise your actions, your thoughts, your feelings, you’d deduce it was because you needed to taint his perfection, even a little bit. If there was even a slight chance he could fuck himself out of your system and you’d no longer depend on him as whatever emotional crutch or midday fantasy he’d become, maybe you’d make it the rest of your life without needing.

“Please, please, Matt. Want you inside of me,” you whimpered into his probing mouth, fingers tugging at his short strands of hair, hot breath gasping like the air was running out of the room and he was your only source of oxygen.

“I dunno, baby, think you deserve it?” he taunted, that same look, the one that screamed desire and power and I fucking own you aimed at you had you nodding dumbly at him, eyes wide and desperate, and he forced himself to look away, spinning your around and pushing you into the marble counter of the sink.

“I want you to watch yourself fall apart,” he whispered, voice deadly, grip strong and unmoving. And you wondered if it was the Devil himself currently pushing down your trousers, hooking your panties to the side, sliding a finger through your slick folds once, twice, before ramming in with little to no warning.

“Oh–” you all but shouted, agape and knuckles turning white as you were forcibly shoved forward. His hand, calloused and scraped but somehow soft and delicate at the same time, held onto your shoulder, while the other travelled up your front, groping and searching and taking, until it rested against your throat.

You were pulled back against him, could feel his muscles shifting through the thin material of his shirt as he pistoned his hips up into you, pulling you down with his hold on you as he dealt you promises in your ear.

It was hard to hear, words getting lost between pants and groans and the ringing that had begun since he showed up, but you savoured every piece, every sound, anyway.

“Fuck– fucking, fuck. You’re tight.” Matt shoved a hand down your front, plucking at your clit with an easy expertise that had your thighs quivering. You wondered if this was what he wanted to do a year ago when you’d trapped his hand in the same position, and with the way he seemed to throb inside you, somehow going faster and harder and deeper, you think it’s an appropriate assumption for your rather inappropriate position.

“Just for you,” you promised, nodding and words tumbling out, tripping over each other until you weren't sure what was real and what wasn’t. “I haven’t– I haven’t been with anyone, not since we almost– we–”

The moment crashed down on you moments later as you realised what you’d admitted. It was pathetic, you were pathetic, and you felt him still almost instantaneously. The change in pace had you clawing back at him, urging him to continue and forget because your mind was scrambled and you were so close.

“Matt, please. You stopped– Why’d you–” you begged around a sob, your voice hoarse and unrecognisable to even your own ears.

But he was pulling out, tightening his pants around his waist and then helping to pull yours up as well. Next thing you knew, you were being turned around, still flushed and pliant and throbbing with a need only he could fulfil.

He brushed your hair back, damp with sweat, as his hands cupped your face, the air shifting from borderline animalistic to something softer, sweeter, a side of him you hadn’t encountered yet between the first time and now when he’d been all cocky grins and charming words.

His thumb traced the ridges of your face, like he was trying to remember the impression of you through his touch, slowly putting together a portrait in his mind with every glide of rough skin. Then, he leaned down, kissed you all sweet that you wondered if you’d imagined the man from earlier.

It was silent for a beat, then another, and when he finally spoke your stomach dropped. “You waited for me? The whole year you never–”

“It wasn’t– I didn’t–” you stammered, seizing up as every defensive thought and argument you could think of fought to be heard. “I didn’t wait,” you said eventually, exasperated and embarrassed. You turned to look away, ears burning. “Not for you, it wasn’t a choice. I was just– I’ve been busy and well, I’m busy right now. In fact, I’m here for work and– stop! Stop that!”

He was laughing. Whether it was because of your lame arguments or the way you never really finished a sentence– you weren’t sure but likely both.

“What– why are you laughing?” you asked pointedly, shoving him back until he fell against the opposite wall, the space between you like a no man’s land you didn’t dare enter, not until you knew what was up.

“You’re just cute, that’s all,” he reasoned, that same stupid smile on his face that had you wanting to get on your knees all over again, even if the floor was grimy and the lighting in the restroom so terribly unflattering you were sure you couldn’t look anything that resembled attractive in it.

Matt, on the other hand, looked stunning. It annoyed you that you noticed that, still believed it even after his sudden change in mood.

“That’s not– I’m not–” you retaliated.

“You're not– what? Cute?” he stalked forward, palm on either side of your hips as his lips puckered up in front of you and you instinctively leaned forward to kiss him.

It took you admittedly long to process what you’d done because a second later, you pulled back, brows knitted together as you stared up at him, convinced it was a curse or a drug or something because why?

There was something about him, magnetic, an innate yearning you couldn’t let go of.

“I think you’re fucking adorable, sweetheart,” he continued, smirking like he’d seen the emotions flicker across your face. “And you know, even if you didn’t wait for me, I waited for you.”

The two of you made another promise: next year, same time, same place.

You smiled to yourself as you left for the airport again, no longer worried you were a psychotic fool a little too addicted to a man she didn’t really know. Because he felt safe and comforting and like a home you never knew you wanted nor needed until you’d stumbled inside, and you think, maybe, possibly, he felt the same way.

He kissed you goodbye, said he’d take you somewhere nicer next year and maybe you’d get to finish what you started– again.

And surprisingly enough, you were fine with it, with waiting and double-taking every time you crossed a brunette in sunglasses on the street.

You’d make it work as long as you ended up in his arms a year later.

He showed up, but you wished he hadn’t.

You never thought you’d see the Matt Murdock stumbling and incoherent, hair sticking up in opposite directions, and reeking of alcohol so strong you’re surprised he hasn’t blacked out yet.

Not to mention the indistinguishable stench of someone’s perfume, the bruises climbing down the column of his neck and disappearing into his partially unbuttoned shirt.

Yeah, you really wished he’d stayed home.

“Sweetheart, baby, love– where are you going!” he called behind you, tripping over invisible cracks in the pavement and suddenly, you wondered if he was even blind because you followed you with a confidence, albeit, a drunken, slurring confidence, that you hadn’t expected.

So you stopped, worried he’d walk right into traffic, and he slammed into you, large palms circling your waist as you steadied him by his shoulders. It was cold, unbelievably so, and his breaths puffed like cigarette smoke in your face.

Strangers walked around you, avoiding whatever was going on between you and your– whatever he was, like a plague.

“I’m going home Matt, I have a flight to catch,” you answered calmly, words a little short, a little terse, and even in his state, Matt noticed as he nuzzled into your neck. You couldn’t help but shiver, missing his touch and mouth and presence over the past year.

Sometimes, you wondered what would happen if you got on a flight and knocked on his door. You didn’t know where he lived, had never made it that far into his realm or world, but Google was worryingly useful these days and you didn’t think he’d turn you away.

But then someone drops a stack of papers on your desk– “Need these edited and sent back tonight, thanks!”, and you're reminded why you never bothered getting his number or address or an actual date.

Sometimes your life barely has space for you let alone a whole other person.

“But I just got here. Please. Wanted to take you out, then take you home…” he trailed off, now sponging kisses into the little bit of exposed skin above the turtleneck you had on. And your eyes fluttered shut because, well, why wouldn’t they, and you let yourself enjoy it, him, for a moment longer before the wind picked up and carried with it that same fucking perfume you’d smelled earlier.

You pushed him back and he pouted like a kicked puppy. “Matt, please, don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” you insisted, holding his hands in yours, between the two of you, so they couldn’t get closer to your skin, to where you really wanted them, because then you’d forget about where he’d been and why he’d been late and let him have his way with you.

You might have been touch starved for the past year but that didn’t mean you didn’t have any self-respect. Or at least, you hoped it didn’t.

“Hard? I can show you exactly what’s hard,” he mused and you scoffed at the line that probably would have had you giggling into his side had the night gone different.

“Fuck– grow up, Matt!” Your voice was getting louder, angrier, the exhaustion seeping in as your gloved finger pressed into a particularly prominent bruise on his neck. “You were with someone else, you prick!” It was like the drink drained right out of him as he stood straighter, sobering up almost instantly as if realising what he’d done. “I waited for two hours and you were messing around with some other girl or guy and–”

“I’m sorry, I–”

“No. You don’t get to be sorry,” you jabbed the bruise harder and he hissed, finally stepping back. “And– well– I don’t even get to be mad because we’re not dating either. We meet once a year and we apparently don’t even fuck but you’ll sure as hell go do it with someone else it seems–” He frowned but you kept going, needing to get it off your chest before you imploded.

You sighed, hiding your shaking hands inside your coat pocket, hoping anyone passing by blamed the chilled wind for your tears and not the man in front of you. “I’m an idiot, Matt. I’m fucking stupid.”

“You’re not– I swear, Christ– you’re not,” he surged forward, wiping your tears and your brows jumped. “It’s me– I’m– this past year– it hasn’t been good, none of it has been good, and I thought you’d see it in me. I’m not a good person, sweetheart, not for someone like you.”

Your chest ached. You felt something splinter, crack, break apart until you were melting into his arms, anything to get away from the pain of it all. You’d blame the blistering cold for it later, how you curled into his warmth and comforted his broken words in any way you could.

This time, when you left, you didn’t say anything about next year.

He could smell it on you. Someone new, different– male.

He didn’t say anything, knew he couldn’t because you’d definitely look at him like he was insane and really, he was starting to feel it because all he’d thought about was you, you, you, and here you were, new hair, new look, fucking beautiful, and someone else’s.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said over the rim of his glass. Water, just water.

“I didn’t think I would either,” you answered, and your mouth quirked like you were proud of your answer and the detachment in your voice.

Matt was proud of you too, despite it all. Something about the way in which you seemed to move about with ease, your heartbeat unwavering, no sign of the mess he’d left last time.

“So how’ve you been?” he asked finally, unsure of what to say. Because what could he even say? Sorry for fucking us up? Sorry for being an absolute prick of a human being and breaking your heart, but hey, I’m still reeling from it and it’s been a year but maybe my suffering will make it all alright?

Probably not.

You hesitated. He heard the hitch in your throat, how you tried to clear it and chugged down half your mug of coffee. It was burnt and bitter but you downed it like it was something exotic and worth the five bucks you paid.

Then, you lifted your hand, placed it on the table– the rustle of your shirtsleeve hinted at your movement– and you reached over with your other hand, held onto his wrist loosely, almost disinterested, and laid it on top of your hand.

He froze. He froze and he almost begged you to take it off, the words dying on his tongue but the ghost of them desperate to haunt the air around the two of you.

“Engaged,” you cleared your throat again, like you were uncomfortable and he hated it. “I’m engaged.”

It took him a moment to realise you weren’t saying more, and it took another moment for him to realise that you didn’t owe him anything else.

I’m not a good person.

“That’s– that’s incredible, congrats!” The slight inflection of his voice, something that probably should’ve conveyed genuine excitement and an eagerness to know more– he cringed at how it sounded– like complete bullshit.

“Thanks Matt,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper. “We work together and, honestly, he’s a real sweetheart so it was just– I dunno, easy? I guess that’s the right word, yeah. It’s easy being with him.”

Matt smiled wryly, stole his hand away and tucked it neatly on his lap. “Sounds like a charmer,” and he prayed you didn’t hear the sarcasm in his voice.

“Yeah, he is,” you agreed, entirely too loved-up to notice what was happening right before your eyes.

“So, does he know where you are right now?” he asked, suddenly curious. Like you’d said a year earlier, you weren’t dating, and any possibility of that becoming a reality had drained away the moment he’d shown up to the bar, drunk off of his mind and dishevelled from someone else’s hands.

But you’d done things, said things– things that might have been meaningful enough that when it all ended, like it had a block away from where you both were sitting, it still hurt.

So he needed to know if you’d told your fiance anything, if you still cared enough to hide it, hide him. Because if you did, maybe he’d hold out hope for once in his life.

The heat rushed to your face and you craned your neck away, twirling the lone ring around your finger. “Not exactly,” you relented. “I told him it’s a business trip, this yearly conference– and that’s not a lie because the conference was yesterday, I just– I guess I didn’t want to tell him about this.”

“Why?” he asked, whispering like a secret.

“You know why Matt,” was all you gave him.

You didn’t show up the year after, or the year after that. Matt sat in your booth alone, all night, until he had to show up at the office and explain to Foggy why he looked like he hadn’t slept.

“No, Foggy, it’s not that, I’m fine,” he’d insist when Foggy refused to accept any of his excuses. Like you hadn’t said anything to your fiance two years ago, he hadn’t told Foggy anything either.

Not because he was embarrassed or ashamed, but because he knew for a fact that Foggy would kick him in the ass for letting you get away.

But that was a month ago and Matt had been walking around like more of a zombie than ever. Mugs strewn across his desk, possibly growing mould but he was afraid to find out. Papers scattered, transcripts of interviews he doesn’t remember conducting on papers he doesn’t recall signing.

Matt Murdock was a mess and the only cure was probably off making babies with some other guy.

The twang of the bell hooked onto the front door alerted him to someone knew.

“Karen, we don’t have time for walk-ins right now!” he called, head in his hand as he was slumped over his desk.

He was met with silence and he rolled his eyes at no one. With a huffed grumble, he stood from behind his desk and swung the office door open.

His walking stick clattered to the floor when he realised it wasn’t Karen.

“Any exceptions to that rule?” you asked, timid and shy but entirely real. You were there, in front of him, mere feet away, and you were definitely not Karen.

“I don’t know if my answer to that question is entirely appropriate for a married woman,” he replied slowly, even though he knew there was no ring on your finger.

“I’m not–

“--married, I know,” and now it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“Then why’d you say that?” you countered, taking a step closer, and he parroted your movements, heart hammering in a way it hadn’t in too long.

“Instinct. I wanted to make sure. Maybe you lost the ring, or someone stole it, that’d explain why you’re here, at least,” he reasoned. Another step.

“So you can’t think of any other reason for why I’m here?” You were a breath away, his strides admittedly, desperately, longer so he’d reach you sooner.

“I can think of a few but I’d like you to tell me yourself.” His voice was low, afraid if he spoke any louder he’d scare you away, feel you evaporate out of his touch as he raised his hands to your face and yours came up easily to cover them, like you wanted to hold him to you and never let go.

“This guy he– well, he said he wasn’t a good person and, honestly, I’m a sucker for a lost cause–” Matt huffed out a laugh. “So I thought I'd give him another chance.”

His head dipped, lips brushing against yours effortlessly. When he spoke, his breath licked across your mouth, a promise of what's to come, and you nudged your nose against his, hurrying him along.

“Where’ve you been, sweetheart?” he wondered aloud with the kind of reverence he reserved for confessions and church and a nameless priest.

“Right where you left me.” And you pressed forward, cementing yourself to him.

reblogs are much appreciated <3

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #daredevil #nmcu #charlie cox #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #matthew murdock #my writing #right where you left me

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imzadi-caskett-huddy · 23 days

Text

It Started With a Kiss (1/?)

This idea came to me while watching “Knockdown.” Initially it was just gonna be a one-shot; however, lying in bed after watching the episode, I was struck with the idea that there should be several parts, at least covering a couple of episodes through the end of season 3. I’m not sure if I will extend it into some of the season 4 episodes or not…it just depends on how the characters speak to me as I’m writing. But there are at least several season 3 episodes that are going to be dealt with.

I’m starting it after that night in “Knockdown” when they had to save Ryan and Esposito. I figure Kate didn’t go to see Lockwood in prison until at least the next day, so this chapter will take place between the time we see her fixing Castle’s hand in the ambulance and when we see her at the prison.

The way I’m planning to deal with future chapters is everything up to the point I tell you the scene starts is going to be just like in the episode. The only parts I’m either rewriting or adding are what you see here. If anything else from an episode needs to change so that it fits my version, I’ll let you know in the beginning.

I’m also still working on Hell Hath No Fury, so I’m going to do my best to rotate updates between that and this one until this one is complete.

I don’t own Castle, unfortunately.

xxxxx

Castle is seated in the back of an ambulance getting his hand wrapped; he'd insisted he didn't need to go to the hospital. Once the medic finished, he climbed out of the vehicle. Castle winced at the tightness of the bandage and started to unwrap it, glancing up when he felt Beckett’s presence.

“Hey there, Chuck Norris. How’s the hand?” she asked, climbing up into the ambulance and taking a seat across from him with a small smile.

“Excruciating.”

She gently took his hand in hers and began rewrapping his hand. Her touch was delicate as she focused on his injury, her fingers caressing his skin softly.

“How’s Ryan and Esposito?” he asked her, trying to focus on anything but the way her soft touch was making him feel. After the kiss they shared earlier in the evening, the last thing he needed was more of her touch. As it was, he would have a very difficult time getting to sleep later, and he was sure the way she felt in his arms, the way she’d tasted when she kissed him back would monopolize his dreams for a few nights at least.

“Mild hypothermia, wounded pride. Guess which one will heal first?” she finished up with his hand and looked up at him with a smile. “Thank you, for having my back in there,” she said with a soft look in her eyes.

He gave her a smile. “Always,” he promised her.

She gently touched his knee to help her balance for a moment so she could hop down from the ambulance. She turned back to offer him her hand to help steady himself as he climbed down as well, keeping his good hand for a few moments longer than necessary once he was on his feet in front of her. “We’re pretty much wrapped up here for the night; I can finish up everything tomorrow,” she started. “I was going to offer to buy you a drink seeing as you saved my ass in there, but it’s pretty late to go to a bar. Can I offer you a drink at my apartment instead?”

“I’d like that,” he answered her with a grin. He’d take anything she’d offer him these days, and since she’d already told him earlier that Josh was in Africa, he was more than happy to keep her company after the case they’d had; at least he’d be able to pretend she wasn’t with the doctor for an hour or so.

“Alright,” she smiled. “Come on, Castle,” she nudged his shoulder lightly with hers, gesturing for him to follow her back to her car.

The ride back to her apartment was pretty much in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. She couldn’t get the kiss they’d shared out of her head. It was supposed to be fake, a ruse to distract the guard so that she could take him out. The problem was it hadn’t felt fake to her at all, from either of them.

She knew Castle well enough by now and trusted him enough to know he genuinely hadn’t meant anything by kissing her at first; he had just been improvising when his initial plan hadn’t worked. But the way it felt when his lips covered hers, even as innocent as it had been initially, set her entire body on fire in a way she’d never felt before…it certainly never felt like that when she kissed Josh. Then she thought of the way he’d jumped on Lockwood and literally beat him senseless with his bare hands to save her, and she suddenly wasn’t sure that asking him back to her apartment for a drink at this time of night had been her best idea.

He’d told his mother a couple of days ago when this case had started that it wasn’t about the books anymore. His need to be her partner, to continue to risk his life to be by her side had nothing to do with research and everything to do with her. His mother had been right in telling him it was time he was honest with himself about why he was doing it. He only wished he could be honest with Beckett about his motive as well.

He’d come close to telling her earlier in her apartment when she asked him why he kept coming back, but he’d chickened out; this case, anything related to her mother’s case, made her

vulnerable. He didn’t want to be the jackass that added to her problems by being selfish; besides, she had a boyfriend, so he highly doubted she would return his sentiments.

But now instead of going home alone, she had asked him to join her for a drink at her apartment where they would be alone. That had to mean she felt something, right? And she had kissed him back earlier; sure, it was under the ruse of a fake kiss. But fake kisses didn’t require her tongue in his mouth, didn’t require her moaning or her hands in his hair or her body pressed against his quite so tightly.

“Come on, Castle,” she said softly, once she parked her car on the street near the front of her building, which she was allowed to do because of her police plates.

Her voice shook him out of his thoughts, and he got out and followed her inside. The elevator ride remained quiet, as did the walk down the hallway to her apartment.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she told him, closing and locking the door behind them. She moved to her kitchen and grabbed a couple of glasses as well as a bottle of whiskey. She carried it over to the living room where he had made himself comfortable on her sofa and sat them down on the coffee table in front of it. Taking a seat, she poured a half a glass for each of them and clinked her glass against his. “To the best partner a girl could ask for,” she smiled, downing about half the liquid in her glass.

Her words made him grin and his eyes light up as he downed about half the liquid in his own glass as well. “Really?”

She nodded. “Except he doesn’t really help with paperwork,” she teased, setting her glass on the table and standing. “I’m going to change, I’ll be right back,” she told him, disappearing into her room.

He grinned a little more, pretty satisfied with himself at the moment, and finished the liquid in his glass before pouring himself a refill from the bottle. He leaned back into the cushions and relaxed, enjoying the drink in his hands as he waited for her to return.

It didn’t take long for Beckett to change her clothes. She’d remained in her jeans, only opting to change out of her work shirt into a more casual and comfortable t-shirt, and she’d removed her heels and placed her gun and badge in her nightstand. She offered him a smile as she rejoined him on the couch, taking her glass and curling her legs up comfortably as she turned her attention to him.

Almost an hour and a half later, he had her laughing hard as he told her a story about his mother. He was a couple of drinks ahead of her; he hadn’t drunk enough to not know what he was doing or saying, but he had definitely drunk enough to be looser and braver with his words and

feelings. He stopped laughing and got quiet for a moment, getting serious. “You know, you asked me why I keep coming back. I told you it’s because I’m your plucky sidekick…but that’s not entirely true,” he started softly.

She stopped laughing when she realized he was getting serious. His words had her finishing what was left of the alcohol in her glass and placing it on the table. She hadn’t had as much to drink as he had, and she’d always been great at holding her liquor. She was relaxed and loose, but she wasn’t sure if she’d had enough whiskey to handle where he was taking their conversation; then again, maybe it was better that she hadn’t had any more than she'd had at this point. She wasn’t sure yet. “Castle…” she tried to stop him.

“A wise woman told me that I should be honest with myself about why I’m doing this," he started, echoing the words of his mother from a few days ago. "She pointed out to me that I wrote 22 novels before I met you, and didn’t have to spend every day in a police station. It’s not about the research anymore. It hasn’t been about the books for a long time. Even Vulcan Simmons saw it, Kate.”

“Rick…” she tried to get his attention, to stop him before they went down this road. She hadn’t had a chance to process everything from the last few days, much less the kiss they’d shared earlier, the way he’d so bravely saved her life, or her own feelings about him and what it all meant. She certainly was not in a position to deal with everything tonight after 3 glasses of whiskey, despite the fact that she wasn’t drunk.

He placed his empty glass on the table as well and shifted closer to her. “So if I’m being honest with myself about why, I want to give you an honest answer too,” he said softly, drawing a deep breath. “It’s because I’m in love with you, Kate,” he continued in the same soft voice. “I keep coming back, I keep showing up to murder scenes in the middle of the night and hanging around because I love you.”

His words made her freeze; not only had he said them once…oh no…Castle was an overachiever and said them twice. She knew he’d had a couple more drinks than her, but she also knew that he wasn’t drunk enough to not know what was coming out of his mouth. This wasn’t a drunk confession that he wouldn’t remember tomorrow.

She had no idea how to respond to them. She cared for him; she knew she felt more than friendship for him, but she had a boyfriend. Even without dating Josh to complicate things, he’d ended things with Gina only a couple of weeks prior, and now he was here professing his feelings for her? It was making her head spin.

Why couldn’t he have had this epiphany back in May when she was trying to tell him she liked him? Why couldn’t he have just not asked Gina to go to the Hamptons immediately after she’d turned him down? Why hadn't he given her a little time to reconsider, or even gone alone? Now

there were 8 months of…complicated and significant others…between them.

Before she even knew what was happening, his lips were on hers, soft and tentative. After only a couple of seconds, she placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly. “Castle…I can’t do this tonight…” she murmured.

He sighed and hung his head. “I’m sorry…” he immediately began to apologize.

Her hand on his arm stopped him. “You don’t have to apologize,” she told him softly, standing and pulling him to his feet. “But it is late. And you’ve had enough to drink.” She decided playing it off as the alcohol would keep things from getting weird between them; at least that's what she hoped.

“I’m not drunk, Beckett,” he told her, wondering if that’s why she had stopped him.

“Maybe not. But you’ve had enough whiskey to kiss me, which I know you wouldn’t have done without the alcohol, so it’s time for you to go home.” She began to gently guide him towards her front door, grabbing his jacket along the way.

“I kissed you earlier without alcohol,” he tried to reason.

She shook her head. “It was fake, Castle...a distraction to get past the guard.”

“Didn’t feel completely fake to me,” he pointed out.

She sighed softly, handing him his coat at the door. “Castle, it's late.” She opened her door for him and gave him a small smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?”

He sighed deeply. Her rejection had been gentle, but it still stung. “Goodnight, Kate,” he said softly, leaving her apartment.

She closed the door behind him, locking it, before leaning back against it and closing her eyes. What the hell had just happened between them? She had known he was attracted to her, but his confession had completely taken her by surprise. And while she knew she definitely felt something for him other than physical attraction, she had a boyfriend...a safe boyfriend...whom she might be able to love if she just stayed with him. She had no idea if she was ready to risk her heart with him; he’d already broken it once in May. She’d already ended one relationship to be with him and gotten burned. She wasn’t so sure she was ready to do that again.

Castle rested his head against the wall of the elevator as he rode down, telling himself he’d been an idiot for confessing his feelings like that. “What did you think was going to happen? She has a boyfriend, you idiot...she isn't the type of woman to cheat on her boyfriend for you,” he

murmured to himself. Maybe she was right, and he had had too much to drink; he was sure he wouldn’t have thought to confess his love for her…or kiss her…without the liquid courage he’d had.

When the cold January air hit his face as he walked outside, he suddenly realized what word she'd used. Tonight. She’d told him she couldn’t do this tonight. That left him with hope that maybe she wanted to do this one day. She didn’t say never, after all. She had been nice about letting him down. She hadn’t shot him…or even smacked him…when he’d kissed her. She had simply said she couldn’t do this tonight.

He decided then…he would wait, he would fight for her. Maybe not in a completely obvious way, and definitely not in a physical way because he was sure she wouldn’t like that. But he would be there; he’d keep showing up for her. That was already one thing he had over Josh…he wasn’t halfway around the world when she needed someone. He was actually there. And he would be there for her whenever she let him be. She may have been dating another man, but she didn’t have a ring on her finger yet; she didn’t seem as committed to Josh as he’d thought...she still told him things she didn't confide in her boyfriend, like the murder board she kept hidden in her apartment; he still had hope. And in the meantime, he wouldn't be stupid enough to start dating other women; he would wait for her.

xxxxx

Alright, that’s the first chapter. Hopefully you guys like this one. It will get to Castle and Beckett happiness, trust me. You’re just gonna have to go on the journey with me.

As always, I love hearing feedback if you feel so inclined! Thanks for reading!

#castle #caskett #kate beckett #richard castle #castle fanfiction

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jujutsubaby · 2 months

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after hours (part 8)

☆ pairing: toji fushiguro x afab!reader ☆ summary: you help toji bake brownies for megumi's soccer meet tomorrow! you're excited to spend a cute and wholesome night in with baking brownies and eating taco bell with toji but he has something different in mind... ☆ tags: modern au, babysitting au ☆ warnings: 18+ !! MINORS DNI !! oral (f! and m! recieving), penetrative sex (p in the v), smoking, overstimulation, cannabis use, rough sex ☆ a/n: GUYS MORE CRAZY FILTHY SMUT IS HERE FOR U!! enjoy luvs!! and also enjoy even more taco bell sponsorship~ next post will be gojo centered and will still have some smut so stay tuned!! im feeling a little less shy writing smut but i still have a lot of ways to go before writing the infamous 3way but so far im feeling good ab this series and still feeling the momentum >:) also toji is soooo goofy and dilfy i love him :( 🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤

by the time toji comes downstairs from putting megumi to sleep, you’re already measuring out flour and beating eggs for the brownies as a form of distraction from your horny thoughts. you give a quick wry smile to toji before going back to beating the eggs. you feel and hear toji’s footsteps creaking until they’re in the kitchen, and eventually, right behind you. his arms snake between your hips and you let out a gasp, despite knowing what he’s up to. toji pulls himself closer to you and nuzzles his head between you neck and shoulders, and you instinctively roll your neck to the side, allowing him full access to one of the most sensitive parts of your body.

you close your eyes in pleasure as toji peppers small kisses on your neck and shoulder blade, causing you to breathe heavier. “toji~ we need to bake megumi’s brownies,” you whine, trying to focus your energy back on beating the eggs again.

“right, the brownies…” toji mumbles into ear, causing you to shiver. he continues to leave tiny kisses throughout your neck before finally stopping and resting his head in the crook of your neck. there’s a brief moment of companionable silence with him, where the only sounds were the beating of the eggs, the cicadas outside, and the hum of the heater.

toji breaks the silence first. “so…how was your night last night?” he feels your body get rigid almost immediately and starts rubbing your shoulders. “don’t get nervous, i’m only asking because i’m genuinely interested, pumpkin. not everything about me is horny.”

“yeah, right!” you scoff, remembering the stunt he pulled at target earlier today. “seems like you already know how my night went, anyway.” you roll your eyes as you playfully shrug toji off your neck and he chuckles.

“that’s just the last part of the night, i wanna know how your night in general was, jeez…” toji teases as he measures out the dry goods for the brownies. you figure toji is being genuine, and you have no reason to believe he isn’t. plus, you aren’t that bothered by him eavesdropping on your steamy encounter with satoru last night – you don’t want to admit it but you find it extremely hot, in fact.

you sigh and start telling toji about your night, from taking the gummy shoko gave you to getting kicked out of playing dance dance revolution. you omit most of the sexual tension of the night with satoru, but you figure toji can just figure that part out by himself.

toji has an amused face by the end of your story. “wow, so this is what happens when daddy doesn’t respond to your text fast enough, huh. to think i could’ve taken care of you much better than-”

you hit him playfully in the arm before he can finish the sentence. the last thing you need in your head is satoru and toji both arguing with each other about who can satisfy you better. you’d love to bookmark that fantasy for later, though. maybe in your bed, with your vibrator.

“shut up!” you pour the wet mix into the dry one and start mixing the brownie mix slowly as you both chuckle.

“i didn’t know you got high.” toji seems intrigued.

you continue mixing. “yeah, i mean, sometimes i do. i guess we haven’t really ever...hung out like that. i mean, it’s kinda bad form to show up to work intoxicated, no?” you joke, thinking about how insane you have to be on something while babysitting a child.

“how many times do i have to say this? cut the shit, y/n, it’s literally just babysitting.” toji rolls his eyes. “you can be so tightly wound up, sometimes…” toji moves behind you again, and starts rubbing your shoulders lightly. you hate to admit it, but jesus that feels so good.

“still! i can’t be on some shit while with megumi…” you say, defending yourself but slowly losing your rigor as toji really hits a knot on your shoulder that involuntarily makes you let out a moan. oh, fuck. you can practically feel the smile grow on his face as he hits the spot again. you bite your lip this time to hold in the moan.

“well, you’re not with megumi, right now, right?” you’ve long stopped mixing the brownie mix, and you turn your head to face toji, meeting him just inches away from his lips. you suck in a breath.

“i guess not…what are you trying to say?” you boldly ask, your eyes not leaving his lips.

“i’m trying to say…” toji brings his lips even closer to you. “it’s probably gonna be easier for us to finish our cold ass taco bell if we smoke a little joint together in the backyard, pumpkin.” you answer him by pressing your lips to his, initiating a deep kiss between the two of you.

“i’m taking that as a yes,” toji says, in between kisses. he pulls you closer, and you turn yourself around and lock your arms over his neck, pulling him even closer to you as you respond by moaning into his lips. toji breaks off the kiss, chuckling at your frown. “patience, pumpkin…” he coos as he opens up a random cabinet in the kitchen and pulls out a ziploc baggie of a couple joints. he takes one out, grabs a lighter from a drawer with one hand, and your hand in the other and guides you to the backyard right outside. he lights it up and takes the first drag from it, and exhales. ugh, why does he look sooo hot while smoking? it’s unfair.

if you were this horny completely sober, you’re fucked for the night. despite knowing this, you accept the joint from toji and take a hit, letting the smoke lightly irritate your lungs before letting it all go. you really did try to play it as cool as toji when you exhaled, but you ended up coughing. heat rushes to your face as you feel toji patting your back and chuckling.

“stop, this normally doesn’t happen, okay,” you plead between coughs. “i just don’t smoke that much.” another embarrassing cough at the end of it.

“whatever you say, pumpkin.” toji coos as he continues to effortlessly smoke the joint with zero coughs. it makes you jealous how perfect he looks in the pale moonlight, blowing smoke out. his face relaxes with each puff, as does yours, as you both slowly lean into the buzzed feeling.

after a couple minutes of passing the joint to one another in silence, toji extinguishes it by slowly knocking it against the outdoor table. back inside the kitchen, there’s still the brownies that need to be put inside the already pre-heated oven.

“okay, how about you heat up the food, and i put the brownies in the oven?” you instruct toji as you carefully transfer the brownie mix into the tray. you’re definitely high right now, but you just have to use your brain for like, 3 more minutes, before you can turn it off and enjoy the night with toji, who’s currently heating up your dinner. he grabs the tray from you before you can pick it up.

“i’ll put it inside the oven, don’t want you to get burned handling the oven while a lil stoned. just open it and take a seat.” he instructs, head gesturing to the oven. it makes your heart skip a beat as you do what he says. you wait patiently as toji brings out the food, admiring his large and built physique. has he gotten even bigger since the last time you saw him? maybe you should ask if he wants to help you work out even though you can’t remember the last time you stepped foot inside the gym. you gulp and force yourself to think of something else, and the waft of the taco bell easily melts away your horny thoughts as the munchies slowly start to kick in for you.

you immediately start destroying your food, as toji grabs the remote to turn on…great british bakeoff? you didn’t know toji was into food television, and now that you think of it, food related tv shows are usually the most family friendly ones, too. toji senses your confusion and clears the air.

“listen, it’s interesting, okay?” he says, defensively as he chows down on his tacos, eyes not leaving the screen as paul hollywood explains the technical challenge.

“i’m not judging!” you’re judging a little bit. “i think it’s cute you’re into such soft dilfy tv shows…” you giggle.

“what makes ‘great british bakeoff’ dilfy?”

“i dunno, it’s just a dad thing to watch.” you say in between bites.

the rest of your dinner consists of conversations around toji’s tv show interests (he watches a lot of hgtv and a weird common ground between the two of you is selling sunset) and the current episode of great british bakeoff (you feel bad even offering to bake brownies after watching their baking skills).

you laugh when toji says he hated the time he went traveling to london (“i didn’t understand a single thing they said and their seafood is just awful!”). “you can’t judge them just by a single bad trip, toji,” you chastise, rolling your eyes. you take a bite out of a cinnabon delight and the cream oozes out around your lips. you’re about to quickly wipe it off, when you catch toji looking intently at you.

“hold on, let me help.” he wastes no time leaning towards you, suddenly forgetting about the tv show, and licks it off your mouth and you’re not sure when you both start kissing but you were. it seemed so natural to fall into it, cinnabon in one hand and your other tugging on his hair.

“you taste like cinnabons,” toji murmurs against your lips.

you let out a small moan, “it’s because i was eating one…until….” the sound of the tv drown out the smacks of your lips and your quiet moans.

“sorry, should i stop?” toji breaks the kiss and tugs on your lower lip playfully, and you moan due to the loss of contact. your hand, still resting on his head, forces him back on your lips as you hungrily open your mouth and let his tongue explore yours.

you’re about to say more but, but you’re both interrupted by the timer going off in the kitchen, indicating the brownies are finished. the sound startles both of you and toji breaks off the kiss as you catch your breath. you both get up, the high slowly plateauing for the both of you since getting some food in your stomachs. toji carefully takes out the freshly baked and hot brownies and places them on the granite countertop.

“god, they smell so good…” you say, practically salivating.

“i know they’re for megs, but…i mean, it wouldn’t hurt if we just ate one, right?” toji surmises, already grabbing a knife and slicing off two small pieces for the both of you.

“yeah, they won’t even notice.” you’re about to eat your brownie piece, when toji stops you.

“wait, got somethin’ that’s gonna make this even better.” he strides over to the fridge and pulls out a can of whipped cream. “we can have fun with this.”

you know he doesn’t mean it in a sexual way (or does he?) but you definitely read more into it, your heart beating faster thinking of all the dirty things you can do with the whipped cream, but first, your brain is begging you to try just a bite of the brownie before giving into your horny thoughts. you watch toji swirl a bit of whipped cream on his brownie before handing the can to you. you match him, albeit, a bit more messily. the whipped cream gets on your hands and on the plate, but you pay no mind to it as you both inhale the brownie bite at the same time.

you do a terrible job at holding back a moan at the sweet fudgy and warm bite. “oh my god…not to toot my own horn but these are the best brownies i’ve ever had.” you say with your mouthful and toji nods in agreement.

“megs is gonna love this tomorrow morning but he’s gonna hate us for trying a bite without him,” toji jokes. immediately after finishing his brownie, he grabs your whipped cream-laced finger and brings it to his mouth and starts sucking on it, causing you to gasp. he licks the whipped cream clean, and kisses the tips of your fingers.

“someone’s still hungry for something sweet,” you tease, grabbing the can of whipped cream, opening your mouth, and spraying some on your tongue. you stand on your tippy toes and toji leans down and gives you an open mouth kiss. his tongue engulfs yours and exchanges the whipped cream between both of your mouths, the sweetness driving your hunger for him even more. if you saw anyone else do this, it would make you gag, but with toji, you cannot deny how erotic it is and how incredibly soaked you are. the sweetest kiss (literally) you’ve ever had comes to an end as toji pulls back and grabs the whipped cream container.

“actually…” toji lifts you up with one arm and sets on top of the granite countertop of his kitchen. “i want something sweeter…” he brings the nozzle to your neck, which you gladly tilt for him to make space, and you feel the coldness of the whipped cream being applied on your neck. jesus fucking christ, you’re so sensitive there. you shiver at the contact. your eyes roll so far back in your head and you let out the most obscene moan when toji licks a long stripe across the whipped cream in your neck, and sucks on your skin at the end of it. you feel the vibrations of toji’s humming against your neck and you close your eyes in pleasure.

“f-fuck~ toji…m’so sensitive there…when you lick it, ah~” toji wastes no time placing some more whipped cream on your neck and repeating the same motion as you moan again at the contact of his tongue on your neck.

“fuck, pumpkin, i could just eat you up, right now,” toji says through raspy sighs. he’s practically inhaling you – your warmth, your scent, everything. he can’t get enough of you, with or without whipped cream. with or without clothes, too but preferably without. “gotta take this off,” toji says, tugging at the hem of your sweater.

“yes, daddy,” you say coyly as you bite your lip. you waste no time throwing the sweatshirt somewhere across the kitchen. you sit on the granite counter with your titties on full display, your nipples slowly getting harder by the second.

“tsk, no bra?” toji immediately connects his lips to your collarbones as he covers you in small open mouthed kisses until he reaches your sternum and feels your chest moving with your heavy breaths. your knuckles are turning white gripping the edges of the countertop. “you’re such a fuckin’ slut showing up here without one…what did you expect to happen?” he teases you even further as he starts kissing lightly your mounds.

your breath gets caught in your throat as you pathetically try to defend your decision to not wear a bra tonight. “i-i- toji~ y-you said y-you would cook for me and t-take care of me…” you’re looking down at him and he looks back up at you. you close the gap between your mouths as you engulf him in another kiss and wrap your legs around him, unapologetically bringing him even closer to you. you scoot yourself even closer to the edge of the granite counter so that your heat was as close as it could get to him without you falling off the countertop and you start grinding on him, desperate to feel something.

with the whipped cream can still in his hand, toji breaks off the kiss, and you notice a string of saliva connecting you both. “patience, pumpkin…” he mumbles as he shakes the can. he sprays two little buttons of whipped cream on each of your nipples, which are both hard right now, and it makes you shiver viscerally. toji engulfs one of your cream covered buds and starts sucking messily, causing you to whimper embarrassingly loudly. thank god the tv noise is drowning out your noises.

once he’s cleaned up one of your breasts, he moves on to the next one, expertly using his tongue in quick flicks against your hardened bud. you feel like your skin is on fire despite the cream being cold and you lightly tug on toji’s hair, pressing his face even closer to your breasts. it’s harder to keep your eyes open because of the pleasure that’s electrifying your body, and your moans are slowly filling up the room.

“fuck, y’taste so sweet…” toji says in between kissing your titties, alternating between each one and making sure not a single smear of cream was left. “can’t believe this is what i missed out on…”

“p-please, toji~” you whine, “n-need more of you…” you’re not one to be insistent, but you find your hands on toji’s shoulders and they’re slowly pushing him down to face your soaked shorts.

“need my tongue in your pussy? need daddy to take care of this pretty perfect pussy?” toji teases you by grazing his thumb over your clothed clit, making you involuntarily flinch and whimper. tears of desperation threaten to spill as you quickly nod your head and mouth a weak “please”.

“take this off.” toji commands, his fingers playing with the waistband of your shorts. he doesn’t have to ask you twice as your shorts practically slide off of you. your ass hits the cold granite and you yelp, but not for long as toji swiftly picks you up and lays you down on the dining room table. your legs automatically spread open wide as he takes a seat on the dining chair and comes face to face to your unclothed soaking core. you hear toji swear under his breath as his pupils dilate at the sight of you completely bare for him on his dining table.

you won’t lie – you feel extremely exposed compared to toji who’s completely clothed, but it just turns you on even more at how desperate you get for him to touch you. you’re so needy for his touch, his tongue, his fingers, everything. and just thinking about it makes your wetness drip on his dining table. your eyes roll back so far, you arch your back in pleasure from just feeling toji’s hot breath in your inner thigh.

“p-please, toji~ no teasing…i can’t stand it~” you cry, bucking your hips closer to toji’s face. you need his mouth on you so bad it’s making you go insane as you hyperventilate and blink back tears.

your eyes are facing the ceiling, but you feel toji shaking the whipped cream can. before you realize what’s happening, toji’s spraying another button of cold cream on your clit, and temperature causes your body to twitch. toji’s hands grab each side of your hips to hold them still, effectively forcing your legs to stay open while he finally dines on the dessert he’s been waiting all night for.

toji licks a long strip across your folds, until he reaches your bundle of nerves and rests below a small hill of cream. the cream mixes into your core, and toji eats it up like he’s never had anything sweeter (and he hasn’t). your wanton moans get louder and louder as he dives even deeper into your core, his tongue expertly not leaving any cream to waste.

“if you’re gonna be this loud, pumpkin, m’gonna gag you so shut the fuck up.” …was that supposed to be a threat to you? in any case, you bite your lips to stop block your moans, letting out raspy whimpers at toji’s ministrations. you feel toji’s fingers slowly creeping near your entrance and you buckle your hips futilely against his arms holding you down, in an effort to beg for more.

toji inserts one, maybe two, you’re not sure how many fingers are inside you by the time you feel the coil tightening in your lower abdomen. your mind, already high from before, turns into mush in the face of your rising heart rate. toji hears your whimpers getting louder and your pussy clenching around his curled fingers bullying your g-spot.

“t-toji~ m’getting close…” you say through mangled moans. tears threaten to spill as you strain to hold back until toji gives you permission. “can-can i, please?”

“can you what? use your words, pumpkin…” toji says, speeding up his fingers inside you.

“can-can i cum, please, toji~” you whine.

“anything for you, pumpkin. cum your brains out…” toji uses his thumb to apply the final pressure to your bundle of nerves, causing you to come undone on his fingers, and making a mess on his dining table. you don’t even have time to feel bad about it because toji starts bullying your g-spot again, leaving no time for you to recover.

he swiftly stands up, and you feel the tent in his sweats against your thigh as he reaches over to cover your mouth. you feel the back of your head pressing against the hard dining room table, but it does an effective job of mumbling your scream at the overstimulation toji was giving to your pussy. your eyes roll back as he uses his thumb again to circle your clit and apply pressure. the tears you tried to hold back this entire time stream down your cheeks as you feel your body on fire after not recovering from your first orgasm. you see toji’s cruel smile as he coos at how well you take his fingers.

“ohh, i know it’s a lot, pumpkin, but i know you can give me a second one, maybe even a third?” your eyes widen at the thought of three consecutive orgasms – you’ve never been able to do that even on your own! toji chuckles mockingly, his hands tightening around your mouth even more as he feels the signature clenching of your pussy on his fingers. he knows you're close and so do you.

“cum for me, i know you're close, don’t hold back for me.” and you don’t. if his hand wasn’t on your mouth, you’re sure the neighbors and megumi, and maybe everyone in the neighborhood would have woken up at how drawn out your scream was.

you’re unable to form a coherent thought as toji continues to keep his fingers inside you, caressing your g-spot and keeping up his end of his promise of making you cum three times in a row. it’s embarrassing how fast you cum the third time – it’s almost immediately and you feel yourself making a complete wet mess everywhere as your legs shake even though toji removed his fingers from you.

toji unclamps your mouth and your breathy moans start back up again as you watch him put his soaked fingers in his mouth. “wanna taste y’self, pumpkin…so sweet…” you pathetically nod your head as toji inserts his fingers inside your mouth and you start sucking involuntarily, tasting yourself on him. he pushes his fingers deeper in you, but you hold them back.

“want to taste you…toji, wanna suck you off…” you whine, wishing desperately his fingers were something else.

“soon, not finished with your pussy yet.” toji takes his shirt off, and you lift your head up to admire his body. his toned and chiseled abs have a thin layer of sheen from concentrating on making you cum. you bite your lip and make eye contact with him, as he reaches down and palms his rock hard member over his sweats. you feel your mouth water in anticipation of having it in your mouth, but toji has different plans.

toji lowers the waistband of his short and underwear, and his throbbing member springs up. with one hand, toji starts slowly jerking himself off, and with the other, he brings your pussy closer to the edge of the table. he places your legs on his shoulder, and they find a comfortable place resting on them. he gives a quick kiss to both of your ankles before rubbing the tip of cock against your slick folds, teasing your entrance.

“nghh~ toji no teasing!” you pout, your pussy suddenly eager to take his pulsating cock inside you after being stretched by his fingers for so long.

“okay, fine.” he says bluntly with a smirk as he slides his entire length into you, bottoming out. it takes you by surprise and he anticipates your loud moans as he once again uses one of his hands to cover your mouth and mangle your moans.

“shh, you can take it, pumpkin, i know you can.” he waits a couple seconds for you to adjust to his length, but in all honesty, no amount of time could have helped you get used to how big he was and how full he made you feel.

“ngh~ so big,” you complain through his hand on your mouth, as you struggle to keep your breathing normal and your moans at a normal volume. you clench involuntarily around him, and toji takes a seething breath through his teeth while scrunching his eyes.

“fuck, pumpkin. you cannot do that, m’gonna cum on the fucking spot…” toji says, practically having to count backwards in his head to prevent himself from cumming just by inserting himself into you. “how are you still so fuckin’ tight after i fucked your brains out last time…”

he slowly starts moving back and forth, and unclamps your mouth. he snakes one arm around one of your thighs and the other gripping your ankle next to face and forcing your legs further apart. you feel so exposed in front of him, but you can’t even complain, as toji quickens his pace inside you. you think you’re seeing stars in your vision, or maybe it’s because you’re still a bit high. your mind and body is still fucked out from your three massive orgasms previously, so you can’t make much of the things toji is saying to you.

“y’take me so well, pumpkin…”

“feel ya clenchin’ on me again…gonna cum again? four times? such a greedy little slut…” toji clenches his teeth as he prepares for your fourth orgasm on his leaking member that’s actively fucking your brains out. you feel the familiar wave building up inside you, and it’s even stronger than the other three you had.

“fuck toji~ i feel so close…m’gonna cum, please…i-i can’t hold it b-back….” by the time you cum, you’re a babbling mess, and it takes toji everything inside of him to not cum inside you at the same time. his eyes are looking at you, fully focused on your pleasure as he thumbs your clit to help you ride the wave. you clench on him, hard, and he lets out a throaty groan. he knows he’s not gonna last much longer inside you, especially if he’s going to be watching your titties bounce back and forth with every thrust.

“where d’ya want me to cum, pumpkin, m’close…” toji says through short, jagged breaths. you see beads of sweat on his concentrated face and his brows twitching as he’s pressed against you, keeping a consistent pace of hitting deep inside you.

you don’t have much energy left, but you manage to croak out your one request of the night. “wanna suck you off…wanna have you cum inside my mouth…”

toji wastes no time obliging to your request, as he slows down and detaches himself from you. you weakly get up off the dining table, your legs still shaky from your orgasms, as you manage to get down on your knees in front him. he looks so pretty with his head thrown back and his eyebrows scrunched as he’s jerking himself off. he opens his eyes to see you looking back up at him, and he gingerly tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. your grasp on his leaking and throbbing member as he lets go, and you grab the can of whipped cream from the table and start shaking it.

you place a little bit along the tip of his shaft, lick it off, causing toji to groan. you do it again. and again. your tongue takes small , sweet licks off his tip, and you feel him trying to buckle his hips into your mouth. it makes you boldly giggle at how desperate he is to get off inside your mouth.

“y-you don’t get to tease, pumpkin, even when you’re the one sucking me off…” toji says between clenched teeth. with his hands, he creates a makeshift ponytail with your hair and forces his entire length inside you, causing you to gag on him. he starts fucking your mouth, and you feel the mascara tears falling down as you expertly control your gag reflex to take his length in. your tongue swirls as his cock is inside your mouth and you bob your head back and forth, determined to bring pleasure to the hardness of his arousal.

toji’s thrusts inside your mouth are getting sloppier and messier, and you know he’s getting close. toji knows he’s coming undone in mere seconds, and he lets you know he’s about to spill all over your mouth, face, chin, everywhere. he cums inside your mouth and it drives him insane at how well you milk his member. you make eye contact with him as his warm seed squirts into your mouth, doing your best to swallow every drop of him. whatever you miss is dripping down your chin on to your thighs, and you hear toji’s breath return to a normal pace as he slows down. you feel his member softening and you stop sucking him and catch your breath.

“fuck, pumpkin, how did you get so good at sucking me off…” toji says, catching his breath. you look at him demurely as you swipe his cum off your chin lick off your fingers, making a show of it by bringing your tongue out dramatically.

“dunno, i just do…” you say, and toji shakes his head, chuckling.

“you’re such a fuckin’ slut, pumpkin…” toji mumbles, before helping you up and peppering your face with kisses. he sees you shivering and he quickly helps you sit on the couch while he grabs a warm towel to help wipe you off and gathers both of your clothes that were strewn across the kitchen. he helps dress you before he does himself.

“wait…was the tv playing this whole time?” you ask, confused at how many episodes of great british bakeoff must’ve been on autoplay since you guys stopped watching.

toji laughs. “oh my god, it must’ve been playing the entire time. wait, quickly, hand me the remote, i don’t wanna know spoilers.” he quickly pauses the show and goes back to the netflix home page. god, it’s so cute he cares so much about that show. toji tosses you a blanket as he takes a seat next to you and goes back a couple episodes to where you guys stopped watching. you cuddle closer to him as you both watch the episode in silence. you feel toji’s fingers massaging your scalp softly, and you lean your head deeper into his broad shoulders, practically melting into his body.

your eyelids feel heavier by the minute, and you try your hardest to stay awake. you need to know who got the paul hollywood handshake. you’re not entirely sure when you drift off, but it can’t have been more than a couple minutes. toji notices and finishes up the episode before slowly carrying you (quite easily) up the stairs into his bedroom, where he tucks you in and cuddles you from behind.

he’ll never mention it to you, but by the time he’s in bed ready to sleep, he can feel himself hardening again against your ass as he spoons you. so fuckin’ inconvenient, he thinks, as he tries to think of anything else to try to sleep next to your passed out body.

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marsmarbles · 3 months

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Again, hello. I return, unfortunately, for the final time for a while. Not because I’m burnt out, I enjoy writing these daily, they became similar to a warm up before I started writing my longer fics, but because I ran out of ideas. Whoops! I might do more later, but I want to say thank you for letting me write these and receiving them so well. I loved writing in this world, and it definitely will not be the last time. Also, your new doodles for the sausage and scar fic are AMAXING ARRGGG. Hehe. (894 words, a short one, also, there’s a little bit of sexual humor at one point)

Waking up next to Joel had its pros and cons. A pro? Scott woke up in his arms, a very nice way to greet the day. A con? Joel was really hot, and not in an attractive way.

(Maybe a little in the attractive way, but he would never admit that.)

It was like he would wake up next to a furnace, basically burning him from the outside in. Scott had always been a cold person, and he was perfectly fine with that. In fact, he loved the cold. He preferred to be too cold rather than too hot, and Winter was his favorite time of year. Now, it was early fall, still too warm for the blanket that both of them were under, and he was being held by the hottest man in existence (again, temperature, not attractiveness).

Scott didn’t even know how they had gotten here. They always fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed, where Scott could curl up on himself and try to sleep through the night peacefully, and Joel could spread out and shift about through the night. Still, without fail, every morning, Scott woke up curled in Joel’s arms.

It’s not like he was exactly complaining. Like he had said earlier, he liked waking up that way. It just became uncomfortable after a while, when Joel wouldn’t wake up and release him for the day.

This day, unfortunately, was much like the others.

“Joel,” Scott groaned, moving his own hands so they were hugging the other man around the stomach. “We have to wake up.”

“Noooo,” Joel complained, pulling Scott closer. His arms were around his back, pulling Scott’s head so that it rested under his chin. Scott settled in, the stubble on scratching at his head a little, but still managed to try and persuade Joel to get up.

“We have things to do today,” Scott reminded him. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to get up himself anymore, his friend(?) was such a nice pillow. “We gotta… gotta…” He let out a yawn, then wiggled his way further into Joel’s grip. “Gotta prepare…”

“Or we could stay here,” Joel suggested, and Scott couldn’t say no. He let the stress in his shoulders go, relaxing into the arms surrounding him. Somehow, Joel could always convince him to stay in bed. If they couldn’t outright enjoy each other's company during the day, mornings were a good time to pretend they weren’t in a death game. Instead, they were back home, at whatever other server they could be in. It was a cozy thought, but not one that would ever come to fruition. Scott knew this, Joel knew this, and so did every other player.

Hours later, Scott woke up again, this time to a half-awake Joel playing with his hair. He wore it down at night, so it splayed out around him when he slept. It was nice when he woke up to large fingers lazily scratching his scalp, or rubbing the tips of his hair between their fingertips.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Scott said, letting out another yawn.

“Says you. I’ve been awake for like, twenty minutes,” Joel slurs, confirming he has been awake for less than five. Scott laughs softly, burrowing his face into Joel’s shirt.

“You're too hot,” he mumbles, earning a grin from said furnace.

“Glad you finally admit it.”

“Not like that, idiot.”

“Sure, Scott. Can’t get enough of me, can you?” Scott rolls his eyes and shoves away a little, earning a small pout from Joel.

“Turns out, I can.” He watched Joel mouth go full pout, and giggle a little bit. “What time is it?” He asks. Joel looks at the golden clock on the wall, squinting to study it carefully, before deciding he was correct.

“About noon?”

“Joel!”

“Scott?”

“Joel!” Scott groans, rubbing his face with his hand. “We need to meet Lizzie and Pearl when the sun is at its highest point!”

“Well, then, fuck.” Joel lets go of Scott and rolls out of the bed. Scott has to hold back the urge to pull him back down. The chain connecting their wrists gets longer as Joel walks across the room, looking for clothes.

“No thanks, I’d rather not.” Scott rolls out of bed too, smiling smugly in the other direction. Joel just rolls his eyes and replaces his loose shirt for one with large sleeves and a brown over vest.

“Very funny.”

They meet Lizzie and Pearl with very few problems, surprisingly, if you ignore the jokes the girls make about them looking as if they’ve just woken up. They don’t tell them they had.

It was a successful mining trip, to say the least, and each came back with diamonds to spare. That afternoon, they made their first enchanting table and enchanted their armor and swords. Joel apparently preferred axes as his attack weapon, so he enchanted that as well.

They had dinner separately, each working on their own goals, and only met back up when it was time to sleep once again. Silently, they climbed into bed and took their opposite sides, bidding each other goodnight.

Scott stayed awake long enough that night to find out that waking up in Joel’s arms wasn’t an accident, and that the other was very awake when he took him in his arms, mumbling a soft goodnight in his ear. Damselduo my beloved. Goodbye for now!!

-🌻

THIS IS SO CUTE!!! The way they act like they hate each other but actually enjoy their company is very cute. It’s so cool reading this and knowing what post inspired it. I appreciate all the writing you’ve done. I was honestly in kinda a slump with chained life and that’s why I was posting more ocs and DDMAU, but you’ve single handedly re sparked my joy for it. Heck, my biggri fic was inspired by your writing! I’m guessing what I’m saying is fanart and just general support can go I long way with keeping a creator inspired I’ve found out. Sorry if that got a little sappy.

#chained life au #trafficblr #traffic shipping #mcyt #traffic life #traffic smp #life series #damselduo #chained life au fanfiction #chained life #scott smajor #joel smallishbeans

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domesticblisss · 2 years

Text

yellow

robin buckley x female reader; platonic!eddie munson x female reader requested prompt: "can you do an imagine where the reader and eddie are best friends? the reader is bisexual and is dating robin but y/n has never come out to eddie so he walks in on y/n and robin doing the deed and he is just so confused." rating: mature. minors dni word count: 1893 summary: reader is in a secret relationship with robin, what happens when her best friend, eddie, walks in on them? warnings: angst, smut and fluff, the triad. oral (female receiving), fingering, 80's related homophobia, drug mentions and pet names (angel, sweetheart and baby). a/n: i was so excited to write this one request that i literally woke up like, an hour earlier than i needed to and wrote like, 900 words. i hope you guys like it and that i did the request justice.

Being a queer woman in the 1980’s isn’t exactly easy. Having to deal with bigoted minds and fetishising men all the time takes a toll on your mental health. And add to that the fear of not being accepted by your loved ones and you have the recipe for not coming out.

It’s especially worse when you are dating within your friends’ group and your best friend doesn’t know you are dating you guys’ best friend.

Can you imagine the pickle she’s in now?

She never meant to hide it from Eddie, she loves him like a brother, she really does, but it would break her heart if Eddie started hating her because she is in love with a woman. Because she’s in love with Robin.

Robin.

God, how can she even begin to explain Robin.

Robin is fun. She’s quirky, she worries too much, but she’s also carefree, her nervous rambles are the cutest thing in the world, she always plans the best dates, and she is such a badass. Seeing Robin deal with Vecna in the Upside Down was one of the hottest things she had ever seen.

And fuck, Robin is so hot. Her long, agile fingers, her plush soft lips, her raspy voice, god, her sexy raspy voice, legs that went on for days, and the most perfect set of ti– okay, let’s not get carried away.

In summary, Robin is nothing short of perfect.

It’s a friday afternoon, 5p.m to be exact, and she’s lazily sprawled on Eddie’s couch, a burning joint passing between the two best friends.

“There’s a special screening of the three Nightmare on Elm Street movies tonight at the drive-in, wanna go?” Eddie asked, voice a bit hoarse from all the smoke.

“Umm, I would love to, but I– umm, well I got a date tonight.”

“Oh, you little minx! Do I know who the lucky guy is?”

“Kind of?”

“Wait,” Eddie noticed the hesitation in her voice. “is it– is it Steve?!”

“What?! Eddie no!”

“Is it Jason?!”

She’s flabbergasted, mouth hanging open while she tried to gather her thoughts “Eddie, what the fuck? Do you even know me at all?” she shook her head. “I’m already late, I should be going.”

She got up and took the joint from Eddie’s hand to take one last hit. As usual, he complained and she laughed as she gave it back to him. She kissed her best friend's head, saying “I’ll tell you how it went. Love you!” as she left.

She couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty in asking if Eddie knew her at all and hiding such a big secret from him. But she will tell him. Eventually.

Robin doesn’t have that many friday nights off. It’s the busiest day of the week and for some miracle, Keith decided to give her a much deserved break. Of course she wasn’t going to complain.

Since Robin was tired after a long work week, they decided to stay in.

She would cook some nice pasta and a chocolatey dessert, Robin would snatch a few tapes and they would spend the night in each other's arms.

It’s safe to say that Fast Times quickly turned into background noise.

Robin’s lips are on her lips, in an urgent, soul searing kiss. She’s playing with Robin’s nipple as Robin tries to unbutton her pants.

“Someone is clumsy today.” she said, breaking the kiss as Robin is taking too long to take the button out of the tiny hole he’s secured in.

“Yeah, I missed you and I can’t wait to eat you out.” Robin admitted, sitting on her knees to get a better look at the small object.

“God, Robin!” she moaned.

“What, I missed you and your sweet little pussy.”

“Fuck, come here.” she says, pulling Robin by the hand in another scorching kiss.

It’a desperate, four hands working rapidly to get rid of their clothes.

As usual, Robin is a tease. Her lips faintly touching the sensitive spot on her girlfriend’s neck, the tip of her nose caressing the girl’s earlobe.

After a lot of protest from her girlfriend, she trails kisses and little love bites down her chest, wasting no time in playing with her sensitive nipples.

The girl starts moving her hips desperately, trying to get some friction. Robin moves down, sloppy kisses leaving a wet path down her gorgeous belly.

Robin pins her lover’s hips to the bed and slowly brings her face to the girl’s warm core, teasingly blowing air to her sensitive clit.

“Rob, please.” the girl whined.

“Tell me what you want.” Robin teased in her raspy voice.

“I want you to fuck me, please.”

Robin wasted no time. Her lips attaching to the girl's clit, tongue lapping around her hole, drinking all her juices. Her long fingers touching her lover’s sweet spot repeatedly.

She came in a matter of minutes. Legs shaking, hands gripping the comforter and Robin’s hair in an attempt to bring her closer to her core, Robin’s name coming out of her mouth in a whispered chant.

She pulls Robin up when it becomes too much and a giggle escapes her lips.

“Come ‘ere, I wanna taste myself on your lips.” the girl said hoarsely.

Robing quickly obliged, asking “Think you can get me another one?”

She nods, pulling Robin down, moaning as she tasted herself on Robin’s tongue.

Robin’s fingers are working extra hard in her girlfriend’s pussy, her second orgasm already forming when–

“Angel, how did the date go? You’re back–“

“Eddie what the fuck?!” the girls screamed in unison.

“Early…”

The couple scrambled around trying to gather their clothes, blankets or whatever they could to cover their bodies.

Eddie is frozen by the door, mouth agape, moving without any sound coming out.

“Eddie,” his best friend said, “we can explain!”

“I’m– you– I’m going to leave you guys alone… you know, to finish whatever you’re doing.”

“Eddie–“ Robin pleaded.

“No… you guys are clearly busy. I’ll– I’ll just go… talk to y’all later. I guess…” Eddie left in a hurry, even with the girls calling out for him.

“Rob…” the girl started crying. “He hates me.”

“No, sweetheart,” Robin hugged her girlfriend, holding her tightly. “He doesn’t, okay? He is just shocked.”

The girl started crying harder, her mind going a million miles per hour.

“Hey baby, look at me.” Robin asked, hands cradling her head, wiping her tears. “Calm down. I know it is scary, but give him sometime and then talk to him, okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

The night was restless. The morning came without the girl being able to close her eyes and rest for a single second. She felt tired, anxious and scared.

Robin had left early, the first shift of Family Video calling her name.

After too much thought, the girl finally decided to call her best friend.

The phone rang one, two, three, ten times, and when she was almost hanging up, Eddie finally picked it up.

“Hello?” his voice is raspy and low, a clear sign he had just woken up.

“Hey, it’s me.” her voice is small, barely above a whisper.

“Oh, hey angel.”

“Did I wake you up?”

“Kind of… but I needed to anyway, so thank you.” his voice sounded brighter, sleep finally evading him.

“So, umm… we need to talk– I need to talk to you about last night.”

“Angel, it’s really no probl–“

“No, Eddie, please. I really need to talk to you.” she begged him, voice on the verge of tears.

“Oh, it’s serious. Got it.”

“Yeah. Could you meet me in like, half an hour in the woods?”

“Our spot?”

“Yeah.”

Those thirty minutes were the longest of her life. Her nails were bitten as were her lips, and she is pretty sure she was about to open a circle shaped hole on the ground.

She kept checking her watch, watching the minutes slowly passing by.

Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed by past the time they had agreed to meet. Eddie was late.

He hates me and is not coming. Her anxiety was getting the best of her.

“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart.” Eddie’s voice came from behind her and she sighed in relief. “Had to wash my hair.”

She nodded. “So…”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t even know where to begin.” she laughed a humourless laugh.

“Take your time.” Eddie grabbed her hand and squeezed. The gesture made her a bit emotional.

“I– I like girls, Eddie.”

“What about that dude you were seeing a few months ago? Paul, right?”

She nodded. “I like boys too.” she whispered. “I’m bi, Eddie. I like boys and I like girls the same, I like kissing them, I like holding their hands and I like making love to them.”

Eddie smiled, trying to not disturb her rant.

“And I love Robin. We’ve been dating for like, two months now. And she’s so sweet, so lovely… and– and she helped me so much after, you know, everything that happened to you down there. I really, really love her.”

“And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I was so terrified of how you would react when I came out to you, I thought you would hate me and–“

“Hey, hey, angel, calm down.” Eddie interrupted her as he noticed she was starting to hyperventilate. “Breath, okay?”

She nodded and wiped the tears that were threatening to spill.

“Why did you think I would hate you?” Eddie asked, his soft voice, trying to calm her.

“We live in such a small town and I’ve seen how people like me and Rob get treated. Remember mr. Johnson?” Eddie nodded as she kept going. “I just didn’t want anything bad to happen to us… I was afraid of how you were going to react, you know, we never really talked about this.”

Eddie laughed, squeezing her hand tighter. “Angel, you’re friends with the town freak, do you really think I would mind? And besides, who's to say I haven’t had my fair share of… experimenting?”

“Really?” the girl asked, eyes going wide.

Eddie just shrugged.

Silence engulfed them, the air a lot lighter. The girl started laughing and crying, this time crying happy tears. Eddie got up and sat beside her, hugging her tightly.

“I love you. You’re my best friend and I love you, okay? I know my reaction yesterday wasn’t the best, I was mostly shocked in seeing you and Robin naked, and a little bit hurt because you didn’t tell me before, but I get you, okay?

She nodded.

“Good. You don’t have to hide anything from me anymore. I will always love and support you no matter what.”

“Yeah, no more secrets.” she said, lifting her pinky, Eddie quickly locking his on hers.

“Does anyone else know?”

“Only Steve.”

“Steve? You told Steve before me?!” Eddie shrieked, making her laugh.

“No. You know Steve and Robin are best friends and she came out to him last year. He knew she had a crush on me and actually pushed her into asking me out, so you know, he, surprisingly, figured it out.”

“Huh, okay. If I find out Steve is getting news before me I’m disowning you.”

“Okay, Dad.” she giggled.

“Hey, they are screening the three Nightmare on Elm Street movies again today, wanna go?”

“Race you to the van?”

Feedback is welcomed and appreciated 🤎

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things x reader #strager things imagine #stranger things fic #db writes #db fics

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