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yanderenightmare · 3 months

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TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, slave darling, crude and derogatory terms, classism, abuse of power, death threats

fem reader

Thinking about the poor kitchen maid who's suddenly told she's to be the spoiled Prince's new chambermaid.

It hasn’t even gone a day yet, but you already miss your job in the kitchens.

Sure, the sweltering heat of the ovens always left you in a state of fever, and kneading dough from dawn ‘til dusk made your arms acidic with burns – unyieldingly sore – not to mention never getting a chance to sit down and rest before collapsing in bed at the end of the day. But the smell of freshly baked buns and the chance to sneak a bite out of those that came out of the oven just a bit too burnt for serving had always felt like payment enough.

That and not having to deal with the royal family.

You know you should feel honored. You know it’s supposed to feel godsend to be picked to become the Prince’s personal servant. But… there was a reason he so often required a change of maid.

You still remember the last one they’d taken from the kitchen. She was pretty and young and shouldn’t have been working there in the first place – that’s what everyone used to say before she disappeared.

You wonder if such words carry curses… and what you did to deserve the same things being said about you.

You nearly cried standing outside The Prince’s chambers, chewing on your lip with his breakfast tray in hand, wondering what rumors were true – if he really was as terrible as everyone claims – wondering where the other kitchen maid went and whether you’d end up in the same place… wondering what you could do to keep it from happening.

You don’t know what you were standing there waiting for, nearly pissing yourself when you knew he was still out – busy hunting down a couple of runaway servants for sport. It was almost as though you feared the room itself, as though it would bite once crossing the threshold.

None of the sorts happened, though a gust of warm wind hit you like the breath of a beast once you opened the door.

Inside, there were around a dozen heads mounted on the wall – dragons, bears, lions, wolves, and other creatures you weren’t too sure of – all with mouths big enough to bite yours off.

You took only a second to look at them before they looked as though they’d leap from the walls and eat you alive, just like you’d predicted.

You set the tray of food down on the bedside table and walked to the bathroom to draw his bath – deciding work would keep your mind off it.

Stepping out a second later, you fixed a fire in the hearth and made to make the bed, stretching the duvet and the quilt over the massive mattress while eyeing the thread count with envy and the hand-stitching with awe. Left to wonder how many ducks had been shot to stuff the mountain of plush pillows he’d all but thrown onto the floor to make space for himself.

Walking through the steam to the bath again, you opened the cupboard to pick out soaps and oils – overwhelmed by the sight of every shelf stocked full of all sorts you’d never seen – glad you had somewhat decent reading skills – unlike many of the other maids.

Soaping the water, you sat on the edge and waited with a hand wading through the warmth – and while biting your lip, you let your mind wander again – daydream, like it so often did – imagining what it would be like to feel it on the rest of your skin, warm and smooth, sucking all the stress out and leaving you soft like a newborn.

He watched you enjoy yourself, his stark eyes calmly assessing what they saw with a tilt of his head – trailing from the tip of your worn-out shoes to the tattered edge of your grey maid’s dress, up your lap to the cinch of your waist where your white apron was bound – taking his time until your eyes fluttered open to find him standing there.

You nearly fell into the water, hopping up to a stance. “Sorry, your majesty- I forgot myself! Please forgive me.” You bowed, looking down at the muddy stains on your gray shoes – in anxious wait of his wrath.

But instead of a backhanded slap that would send you straight to the stone floor or a spit of venom which would make you flinch and cry, he spoke a calm and patient “Come here-”

Though spoken in a certain tone of authority that forced you forward in quick steps until stopping just short of him – still with eyes downcast.

“Mh, I'm glad they haven't run out of cute ones down there.” He said then, once you stood only a hair's length from him – voice just as calm as before and inspiring just as much surprise in you still, though now joined with visible confusion in the crinkle it caused between your brows. A furrow that only deepened once he reached out his hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Your majesty?” You questioned.

“It’s master.” He corrected sharply, and you grew unsure if his voice wasn’t just cold rather than calm. “I like that better. Now quit wasting my time and undress me, slave – I have important shit to attend to today.”

You wavered only a second, feeling the words like a flick to the forehead. “Of course, your majes- master. Forgive me.” You blurted with hands quickly jumping forth to help detangle the knots keeping his robes together.

Small fingers working hurriedly to appease him, setting aside the light leather cuirass upon his dresser once loosening it from his torso – wondering if you should tell him your name, though thinking better of it as he’d opted for simply referring to you as a slave instead of asking.

You hadn’t been called that in a long while – slave – never by anyone in the kitchen, at least. You’d nearly forgotten it was what you were – a slave – and not just a busy member of the crown’s staff.

You bit your lip with another bow of your head, not wanting the Prince to see your face in its hurt while you undid the ties to the braces on his arms. The castle had become your home rather than a prison over the years, but… with the echo of your title wringing in that very heavy tone of his, along with standing there – bowing your head while undressing him of all fine body armor and robes – you couldn’t suppress the reminder of being of much lesser blood and birth. A fact that – despite never before having bothered you much – somehow seemed to strangle you now.

He’d dragged mud in with his boots – and given he’d not bothered taking them off, you were left to believe he wanted you to do it for him. And though humiliating as it was, you crouched down and began undoing the laces nonetheless – further feeling degraded while caressing the boot.

You pulled it off and repeated the action with the other foot – wondering if he meant you to remove his breeches and tunic as well until he, fortunately for you, lifted the shirt off and pulled the strings to the trousers himself. Leaving the undergarments in a pool on the floor next to you.

You kept your eyes down until he was completely submerged in the water, afraid to see something you weren’t allowed to – before getting up and padding back to the cupboard. You'd never been any lady's or lord's maid before, but you had been trained in the duties – and though heat rose to your cheeks at the thought of those duties, you still made to grab the soap and loofa in shakey hands before kneeling down on the stool next to the tub.

You’d never seen the prince if not from afar atop the castle balcony during speeches by his mother, the Queen – and had only ever heard of his appearance as something twisted and foul – but looking at him with his eyes closed, he really didn’t look as demonic as people had made him out to be. But further thinking about it, scrubbing his chest with soap and water and oil – you realized that none of those people were likely to have seen him up close either.

He looks every bit royal with his strength of face – cutting edges as though carved in marble, with chiseled muscles gleaming in the water and oil.

He was no doubt very handsome, you concluded silently – finally understanding why he was more of an eligible prince than what his attitude would otherwise allow – that, along with the kingdom’s riches, of course.

He sagged forward while you mindlessly amused your findings – though paying attention enough to take the cue – squeezing water onto his back with the sponge before rubbing over the broad flex of muscles, freezing once hearing him let out a heavy moan.

He leaned back again after you were done. Spilling water onto your dress once pulling his arms out to rest on the frame with a sigh – his chin tipped upward, lounging lazily on the back of the tub.

You reached for his face next – now with a silken cloth – stroking it lightly over the few droplets of blood splattered from when he must have cut into those poor runaways after hunting them down with swords and dogs in heel.

You shuddered some at the thought and must have let your eyes linger too long – or at least long enough not to notice him opening his – staring at you silently with eyes jaded in something that seemed to seize you by the throat.

“I’m sorry, ma-” You tried, but he seemed disinterested in it, reaching for you with wet fingers rubbing on the hem of your collar.

“You’re not dressed properly.” He said then, voice lazy yet loud – unimpressed, though not enough to be outright angry.

Gulping at the feel of his large hand so close to your neck, your voice only barely held it together. “I’m sorry, master. They hadn’t the right maid livery in my size, but I’ll have it ready tomo-” You started, hands folded neatly on your lap.

“Take it off.” He interrupted.

You blinked – tensing with your throat closing – sitting there stunned for a moment before mustering an ever so hesitant answer.

“Your majesty?”

“It’s master. Don’t make me tell you again, slave." He growled through grit teeth right at your face after yanking you close by the fabric of your shirt. "And you either dress properly, or you go naked. And right now, it looks like it’ll be the latter. Unless you want to be whipped for poor servitude?”

Your eyes – moon-big now while you shook your head – breathing thin through your nose. “No, master... I’ll undress.”

“Good.” He broke off your collar, dropping you back down onto your seat on the floor before rising with water rushing fast and heavy down along his limbs, dripping onto you as he stepped out with an unfettered splash.

You got up as well, beginning with the buttons on your shirt. Feeling him eye you while he wrapped himself in the towel you’d laid ready for him – his burning gaze leaving you goosefleshed and nearly in tears, bashful as you stepped out of your skirt – naked before him.

You didn’t dare look – even as he stepped toward you. Keeping your head bowed low – breath in shivers while eyeing the hand he reached for you, his fingers stopping just short of touching your bare skin.

“Clean yourself.” He said then, wafting the same hand to the tub he’d just used. Still filled with bubbles of lavender, though no doubt also of his own grime. But you wouldn’t refuse, no matter the degradation – your thoughts still lingering on the former kitchenmaid who’d disappeared not long after becoming the Prince's personal servant.

You stepped in, feeling the warmth close around your legs – still hot enough to prickle. Lowering yourself down, you sat there – swallowed by the bubbles with the loofa in hand, lathering your flesh with the mix of oil, soap, and water – brushing off soot and sweat – leaving you soft-skinned and smooth to the touch, but also riddled with goosebumps that wouldn't lower under the heavy leer the Prince was giving you.

“Get out and come here.” He said a short moment later, and you got out as told – taking slow steps toward the man, with footprints leaving soapy puddles in their wake.

He reached behind you to pull the pin from your worker's bun, letting your hair cascade in flowy wisps down around your shoulders – before brushing them behind you to clear your face and chest.

He’d dried off but didn’t offer you the towel – having dropped it into a wet pile on the floor – now reaching out to feel the smooth gloss of your breasts with brazen digits. Inspecting and assessing while caressing their weight as you stood there with your head still hung down low – silent and shivering.

Soon his hands fell from your chest down to judge your every curve, sliding over slippery slopes until reaching your cunt – stroking two thick fingers through the drippy curls found there. Gliding them between the lips, he circled your clit with his middle digit – tickling you – while dark eyes watched your lip quiver with a power-hungry gleam.

Stepping closer, the small smirk stretched on his face brushed your hairline where you tried bowing your head even lower in embarrassment – with brows tremoring similar to the hands hanging loosely by your sides.

“Aren’t you gonna bleat like a little lamb? Hmm... slave?” He asked then – low in a whisper, blowing gently into the sweat of your hair – cold enough to make you shiver even more. “The slut before you did….” He added with his smirk sharpening – lips stiffening against your skin where he brushed them in halfhearted kisses down your forehead and temple until reaching the shell of your ear. “I had to wring her little neck just to make her stop squealing.”

You sucked your teeth on impulse, jolting just a bit but not enough to make the dire mistake of moving.

“I can tell you’re smarter. That’s good….” He continued with fingers kept at your cunt – playing your shivering core where you stood planted – dripping wet with bathwater and terrified of moving. “Weak little things like you do better understanding their place.”

Your hands formed loose fists, flinching at your sides as you kept from the urge to wring your thighs shut until he left your sensitivity alone.

“But smart or not, I believe you missed a spot earlier-” Both his hands found your hair instead. “So get down on your knees, slave.”

One paw cupped the back of your skull in a ponytail while the other laid flat on your scalp, pushing you down until he had you leveled with his throbbing manhood – thick and high-strung – blushed red and strangled with veins – bobbing with might against the ant trail leading up to his navel and looking every bit impatient to be served.

“Use this pretty head of yours to do better, and maybe I won't have to wring your little neck too.”

You eyed the swaying length with eyes crossing – sucking your lip at its intimidating reach and how it seemed to rise higher than your head – mumbling out a weak. “Yes, master...”

You dropped your jaw and produced your tongue – feeling him keep control of your head in his tightening hold, yanking your hair before you gave the large cock a flat lick – starting at the base of his balls until flicking off at the very tip.

Not too revolted by the mild taste of lavender and vegetable oil, you locked your lips around the head and sucked it in hopes he’d ease his grip.

“Sh-fuuhck- you really do know your place, huh slave?” He mouthed – his head hanging back in a heavy groan – holding your skull in both hands while using them to bob you against his crotch on repeat, lolling his hips inside the wet warm comfort of your mouth a little deeper for each time – only moaning with a laugh once you gave a whine for breath. “Sweet and obedient- just how I like- with a nice wet throat to fuck too….”

He thought of kicking you when you put your small hands against his thighs to brace yourself – but given how softly you held them there without nails and pinches, he decided he’d grant you the tiny mercy – thinking he’d later teach you to keep your hands on your knees when serving him head like a proper slave ought to.

Tipping his head back again, he looked down at you and the pretty curl between your brows and the cute sight of your teary eyes looking back up at him – giving a hiss at how it made his balls tug in excitement.

“Get up-” He growled, pulling you up by your hair and throat until you shoddily stood upright on unsteady feet – lightheadedly looking at him with dazed eyes and a wet pout. “’This tight cunt as loyal to the crown as your mouth, hm?” He asked with a hand smacking the soft place, making you yelp before he made to bury two of his thick fingers inside the taunt space.

You whined out softly at the intrusion – kept steady and close by the fist holding your throat in a choke – before he used the same hand to throw you over the bed – stomach first with a slap to your ass.

“Bow down, slave- and show me some fucking respect. You’re in the presence of royalty, remember?”

He mounted you with a pent-up groan – and a strong fist in your hair, pushing your face down into the mount of pillows you’d dallied with earlier. His knees dipped into the plush next to your hips, locking you beneath him with his spit-slickened meat resting between the soft valley of your ass, sliding between the cheeks impatiently.

Gathering your wrists in his other fist, he kept them crossed at the small of your spine – before pulling back and letting his cockhead fall right to your sweetly wet and welcoming opening – wasting little time in piercing it nice and deep in a direct aim – like an arrow shot straight through a target.

You winced and bucked your hips at the attack – feeling your walls weep and sting – fluttering hot around the size of it.

He leaned across your back – heavy against your shoulders with his mouth at your ear in gritty whispers. “I like docile slave girls like you who know a thing or two about pleasing a man. Good submissive sluts who understand they’re nothing but warm soft meat for men like me to devour.”

His words groaned in nibbling bites on your earlobe – with a hand kept strict and harsh in yanking your head back for him as he slowly started dragging himself out and stuffing you so fast you couldn’t keep from yelping at the breach. Toes gripping the cold rocky tiles as your legs shook under you – being rocked into harsh and deep by the muscle strength of the beast on top.

“I'm not the first one you’ve bent over for, huh?” He continued with a grin, haughtily chuckling in low breathy condescension. “Probably the first one you’ve had take you in a proper bed, though, hm? And not in a hayloft on whatever dirty farm you grew up on.”

Your fingernails punched into your palms where he wrung your wrists tight, keeping you pressed flat beneath him while he heedlessly rutted into you like you were nothing but his own snug fist.

“I bet the whole village had a go seeing how pretty you turned out.” He laughed again, scoffing at it with his tongue tickling your ear. “Did they all fuck you like this? From behind like a farm animal? On all fours with your pretty face moaning in the mud?” Simpering, he sped up as though aroused by his own words.

Twisting your hair tighter and groaning louder against your ear – chasing your deepest parts with balls clapping hard against your clit.

“You’re all fuckin' inbreds- It’s a fucking miracle your filthy parents created something like you- prettier than all the bratty princesses I have to listen to yap all day.” He moaned – now fully drooling against your face, nomming on your ear with heavy breaths.

Fully draping you in his sweaty muscles, you lay gasping beneath the weight – cunt clenching hard around his shaft – making him hiss.

“Ah fuck- It's nice coming home to an obedient slave- so tight and warm- grateful for a royal cock in your poor slave cunt, huh?”

You winced at his pounding, so deep you felt it choke you – making your stomach fold and curl, trying to protect itself from the assault. “Yes- thank you, master- thank you-” You cried while he placed sloppy layers of wet kisses down your temple and cheek in return – until finally pulling off.

“Come here, down on your knees-” Ripping himself to his feet, he pulled you with him by the fist riddled in your hair and pushed you down at the foot end.

Tugging on his cock in the other hand – quick faps in the slick – he kept you looking up at him while slapping the wet weight in sticky taps against your lips.

“Open wide, slave- here it comes-”

Only one more jerk and it all blew in thick white beams shooting across your face – spewing in clusters, hitting you once on your forehead and another over the nose - dripping to your lips into your gaping mouth where he focused on squeezing out the rest – tapping the plush creamy tip against your tongue while panting.

“Mh-fuck- clean me off and swallow.”

With breaths heavy and slowing, he detangled his hand from your sweaty locks and made to pet your head instead. Gently running his fingers over your hair while watching you obediently kiss and lick up all the spill in tired and slow yet devoted strokes with your tongue until it was all prettily wiped clean.

“Good slave.” The Crown Prince hummed then.

Finally sounding satisfied – still with a lazy hand holding your head where you so faithfully sat at his feet, swallowing his seed, while his satiated cock grew limp in regard.

“Now go wash off while the water’s still warm, and come out and help me get dressed.” He ordered, voice groggily soft in the after high. “I have a full schedule today looking at potential brides… and I want my little farm animal by my side to keep me going insane from boredom.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya

HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa

BLLK – Reo

DS – Doma, Muzan, Sanemi

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut #yandere csm #yandere aot

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xo-cod · 7 months

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141+könig accidentally hurting you during sex :"(((

aww :(( the babes </33 i did this super rushed so it might be ooc ‼️‼️

price: he's so apologetic, immediately snapping out of his trance and looking to you with pure worry. "you alright sweetness?" his sweet voice filling your ears as his brows furrow with concern, looking you over while he touches you as though you're the most delicate thing on earth. he feels absolutely terrible, already wrapping a blanket around you to keep you warm while he holds you close apologising over and over. it's just in his nature to do that, he cares so deeply for you anytime you're in pain especially on the off chance it's caused by hand, it makes him so sad :( he won't go back to having sex, not at least he knows that you're okay and you're good. definitely kisses away all the pain, holding you gently <3

simon: immediately freezes and pulls away, his eyes wide with concern and slight panic when he realises he's hurt you. and during such an intimate moment :( he's already got you wrapped in his warm arms, double checking everything to make sure you're not overly hurt. he feels horrible and he gives you plenty kisses to make up for it. depending on how bad, he won't go back into having sex and instead holds you close for the rest of the night instead with you snuggled into his chest. will definitely need verbal reassurance that you're fine otherwise he's going to treat you like precious glass in the foreseeable future "m'sorry lovie so sorry" <3

gaz: "baby? you alright?" probably the most rational and quickly stops everything to bundle you up close. he's pressing soft kisses to your temple, whispering apologies and knowing that sometimes he can get very passionate. still his heart breaks when he realises he's caused you pain and his sweet face breaks out in a soft frown while he's comforting you. he's grabbing the water for you, making you eat something while he's at it. tucking your hair away as he looks at you nervously, hoping he didn't do long lasting damage even if he knows its not possible. but once he's stabilised that you're okay, he spends the rest of the night cuddle up close to you while he gently rakes his fingers up and down your skin. for his comfort and for yours <3

soap: "oh my god have i hurt you??" it almost tears his heart when you're wincing and he's caused you pain, sex is never supposed to be about that. he eases off gently, holding your face carefully in his palms as he asks you questions all around so he knows where the hurt is coming and how bad it is. he's silently cursing at himself for making you go through this, wishing he would've been a little easier on you and you have to take him by the hands and tell him that you're okay. he still won't really believe you but it does help to know he hasn't totally broken you. he makes up for it with hugs and kisses, cuddling you close and whispering sweet words into your ears <3

könig: "mein liebling?" he's so confused at first, you went from whimpering to hissing in pain and it takes him a couple seconds before his eyes widen with shock and he immediately backs out. this man is holding you like precious cargo, asking you a 101 questions of where you're hurt and how bad does it hurt. will perform a thorough examination to ensure he didn't hurt you too much. he's literally in your ear whispering at how sorry he is and how beautiful you are, nuzzling you close in his wonderfully built arms. he feels so bad, you'll have to tell him you're really okay but he doesn't believe so. he won't go back to having sex, instead choosing to make you feel better for the rest of the night <3

#asks #simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #john price #john price x reader #gaz x reader #soap mactavish #soap x reader #könig #könig x reader

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teamatsumu · 2 months

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kept me waiting. (suna rintarou x reader)

summary: for six years, you have loved no other alpha except suna.

word count: 3397

warnings: a/b/o dynamics, alpha!suna, omega!fem!reader, some angst, smut, typical omegaverse jargon (mating, knotting, scent, slick), oral (fem receiving)

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi @sleepyxxhead @priv-rose

There’s only so long you could have waited.

At 16 years old, you were a budding omega. You had presented recently and were trying to adjust to the changes that came with your secondary gender. You were curious about yourself, and about others as well. In your uncertain new beginning, you met Suna Rintaro.

He had presented as an Alpha about a year ago, and he was more comfortable in his skin than you were. He was brooding and slightly lazy, but endlessly perceptive. Clever. And he smelled to you like a garden you wanted to lay in, surrounded by grass and flowers. He brought you comfort. And your novice omega heart fell in love with him.

The kettle whistled, indicating that your water was ready for a cozy cup of tea. You pour it into a cup, grab your muffin and your tea before settling on the couch. It was evening time and the TV was on, loud cheering emitting from its speakers. You placed your blanket over your lap and then rested your plate on it, finally turning your attention to the screen and the live game that was about to start. You had never once missed a game of Suna’s, after all.

Almost 7 years since you had first met the boy, and to this day, you heart yearned for him. He was your best friend, your most personal confidant. The love of your life, though that fact was not known by him. Your Omega had attached herself to him explicitly, vowed to love him forever, and despite him not returning your feelings, you hung on to the tiniest, withering hope that somehow, things between you two would work out.

The game was an exhilarating one, and in the end, EJP Raijins came out of it victorious. You watched the team celebrate on screen, grinning wide and cheering them on silently. When the camera panned to Suna, your heart squeezed. You shot him a quick congratulations text, asking him how he wanted to celebrate. Suna had informed you beforehand that he would be crashing at yours after the game, since you lived so close to the venue. You had enthusiastically agreed, of course. Any excuse to spend more time with him.

Half an hour later, your phone pinged with a reply from him.

‘Will be back late, sorry.. dont wait up’

You pursed your lips in disappointment before sighing loudly and resigning to an early night. It was fine, you were tired from work anyway, so getting extra sleep will be good. But spending some time with Suna….

He had been so busy lately, with rigorous practices leading up to the beginning of this season. You hadn’t seen him in weeks, and you didn’t enjoy that fact, nor did your omega. You missed him terribly. You swallowed down your sadness and trudged into bed. It was a familiar feeling when it came to Suna. The yearning and the realization that he wasn’t yours.

When you woke up the next morning, the sun was high in the sky and filtering through your closed curtains. You groaned and cursed softly, not expecting to sleep in so late. Your mood only lightened when you walked into the kitchen and found Suna sitting on the island, scrolling through his phone over a steaming cup of tea. His hair was messy and unkempt, indicating that he just woke up, but the sight of him had your face lifting with a smile.

“Rin!” You greeted, clearing your throat when you heard how hoarse your voice was. “Congratulations on the game!”

“Hey,” His smile made your heart squeeze. “Sorry, did I wake you last night?”

You blinked in confusion. “No?”

“Oh.” He chuckled and ran his hand through his hair. “Good, good.”

You eyed him for a moment, trying to gauge what he meant. You walked toward the kettle that was still going, planning on pouring some of it for yourself too. As you moved past the man, a scent hit your nose and your body stiffened.

Omega.

There was no doubt in your head. It was an omega scent, wafting off Suna in waves and mixing intimately with his own wonderful scent. You froze behind him, nose twitching when you took another deep breath and identified the scent even more distinctly. You didn’t recognize it, but you knew it was omega. And the way it was coming off Suna, focused so closely on his scent glands meant only one thing.

“Why’d you get here so late, Rin?” There was a little tremble in your voice.

Suna didn’t seem to notice, scrolling idly through his phone, distracted. He hummed a bit in question before replying.

“Drinking with the guys.” He drawled.

And then? You didn’t ask. It wasn’t your place. You loved foolishly believing that Suna was your Alpha but he wasn’t. And you couldn’t exactly tell him to not see any omega when you didn’t have any claim on him either. Silently, you left the kitchen, hoping he wouldn’t call after you, walking into your room and closing the door. You leaned your forehead against the warm wood and closed your eyes.

Stupid. Stupid. What right did you have to feel the way you did? Suna wasn’t yours. He could be with anyone he pleased. He could sleep with other omegas. Scent them. Court them. Knot them. Your throat tightened.

So then why did you feel like a wounded animal? Why was your omega whining like she had lost her mate and not some random alpha she had unfairly been obsessed with for so long? In moments like this, you hated your secondary gender. You hated your omega. You hated that you were so in love with Suna that this felt like cheating to you.

However, your hurt was exclusively your own, and you couldn’t project it onto anyone else. Suna was here now, and even though the sight of him made you weep, you still found joy in being around him. You would spend the day with him, and get the closure you needed. Then you would lick your wounds and move on. You had waited long enough.

So that’s what you did. And here you were now, a week later, sitting across from an Alpha you had met just today, listening to him talk about his job and his hobbies while you smiled and nodded. There was an almost bitter undertone to your feelings. Over the days, your sadness had transformed into anger. It was unjustified and not really something Suna deserved, but you still directed it at him. Because he had ruined you for anyone else.

The Alpha before you was a perfect gentleman. He was a friend of your friend’s, and everything she had told you about him was true. He was kind, well spoken, good looking. He knew how to carry a conversation, since he was doing most of the talking while you rolled around in your own head.

But he wasn’t witty. He wasn’t quick and sly. He didn’t have a thin, cutting smirk and narrow green eyes that pierced through you. He didn’t smell like freshly cut grass and cool, open air.

He wasn’t Suna.

After the date, he walked you to the train station, where you claimed you would get on the train home. He gave you a respectful hug and smiled kindly when you said you would call (you wouldn’t call). Then, when he mixed in with the crowd and disappeared, you turned around and walked straight out, beginning to trudge on foot to your home.

Your thoughts were all over the place, your eyes were lined with unshed tears, your breath felt like it was trapped in your lungs. You didn’t comprehend the stupidity behind walking all the way home, and how it would take hours. Your friend texted you, asking about the date. You didn’t reply. Instead, you tapped on that one cursed name that you couldn’t wipe from your mind and sent only two words.

Fuck you.

It took you two and a half hours to walk home. It could have been quicker if you weren’t in heels. After about half an hour of walking in them, your feet began to hurt. You used the pain to distract yourself from the jumble of thoughts in your head, and by the time you got home, you didn’t even want to look down at them. You couldn’t imagine how bad they looked, if the tingling and shooting pains were any indication. It now traveled up your legs and to your lower back, aching all over. At some point, the air nipped cold at your cheeks, and you finally noticed that it was because of the tears that now ran down them.

When you unlocked the door and stepped inside the warmth of your apartment was the first time you seemed to be aware of your surroundings. You froze just inside the door when a large figure blocked the light, making you look up at a scowling Suna.

“Where the hell were you? I was calling like crazy!” His voice was louder than his usual register, and more emotional. You blinked a bit and sniffled. Your skin felt stiff because of the dried tears. Your feet still screamed.

“Why are you here?” Your voice was low.

“I’m-” Suna’s eyes traveled down, and they widened slightly at the sight of your feet.

“What did you- did you walk?”

You sighed and lumbered past him, ignoring the pleading protests of your feet to get the weight off them. You finally sat down on the couch, feeling no better. The pain was still there. You kept your focus acutely on it, trying not to look at the one man who was causing your misery. But he seemed adamant on making himself known, kneeling before you to help take off your shoes. You jerked your legs away. Suna looked up at you, shocked.

“Don’t touch me.” Your voice was cutting.

Something flashed in his eyes. “Let me help.”

“I don’t need your help. I don’t need you.”

Suna reached for your shoe strap again. “Don’t be stubborn, omega.”

You felt your blood boil and you finally raised your voice. “Don’t call me that!”

He eyed you for a moment. “What? Omega? Aren’t you one?”

“Suna-”

He glared at you. Glared. A withering look that almost made you shrink. But your emotions were too great. You grit your teeth and didn’t say anything. Didn’t address the fact that you had called him by his last name for the first time in six years.

Suna peeled your shoes off your feet as gently as he could. But it hurt regardless, and you hissed when they finally came off. He ran soothing hands over the tender, angry skin. You tried not to think about his touch, tried not to sink into the feeling. But your efforts only made tears gather in your lash line once more. You eyed his raven hair, his head bent low to look at your feet. He sat cross legged before you, laying light touches on the swollen parts of your feet.

“Why are you here?” You repeated.

“Well, when my best friend texted me a colorful ‘fuck you’ out of nowhere, then proceeded to ignore all my calls, I was understandably worried.”

You sighed and looked away just before he could meet your eyes. He continued. “You wanna tell me what that was about?”

You didn’t reply, pointedly looking away. You cursed at the moment of weakness that caused your lapse of judgment and made you text him. Him showing up was your own mistake.

He exhaled loudly, looking down at your feet that he was still gently massaging. “I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

Your head snapped to him in shock, eyes wide and mouth dropped open. Suna didn’t look up, but his lips twitched into a little smile.

“That’s why you’ve been acting so weird, right? For the last few days? You were pissed and sad that your Alpha slept with another omega.”

Your mind reeled, and you sat frozen as you tried but failed to absorb Suna’s words. Your alpha?

When he looked up, his lips were tilted in a crooked smile. “I wouldn’t do that to you, baby.”

Again, you lurched. You tried to pull your feet from his grasp, to stand up and get away from him, put any distance between you two. Maybe his scent was making you heady. Maybe you were hallucinating. He gripped at your leg, making sure you stayed put.

“You’re- I don’t know what you’re saying.” You rasped.

Suna chuckled before sighing a bit defeatedly. “I wanted to confess in a more romantic way than this but you started being all distant and shit. I can’t see you like this.”

You couldn’t believe it. You had so many questions and not enough answers for the predicament you were in. And Suna’s pretty forest eyes didn’t help keep your head straight either.

“You- what do you mean confess?”

Suna’s hand ran up your bare calf lightly, you felt goosebumps rise on your skin.

“What do you think it means?” He countered in classic Suna fashion. Answering your question with a question. “Telling you that I like you. Taking you out. Courting you. Mating you. The whole she-bang.”

For the hundredth time today, tears filled your eyes. “Rin….”

He watched you, eyes forlorn as you silently weeped. His hand still rubbed comfortingly over your legs. Up and down, slow motions. His touch grounded you.

“You made me wait-” You hiccuped. “-for so long.”

Suna continued eyeing you. He leaned forward to rest his head on your knee. “I thought you knew how much I liked you. I spend all my time with you. I scent your clothes, dammit. I thought you weren’t saying anything on purpose. That you wanted to come to me on your own terms.”

You smacked his shoulder hard. He didn’t even budge. “You are such an asshole.”

Suna chuckled a bit before turning his head and laying a kiss on the side of your knee. The skin tingled. He pulled away only a hair, and his breath hit your skin. A chill ran up your leg. Suna turned his head only slightly, his eyes meeting yours. Your heart skipped. Heat ran down your body, settling at the base of your stomach.

His lips skimmed over the bare skin of your knee. His left hand, placed on your right shin, traveled slowly up your leg until it dipped below the hem of your dress. Your breath caught in your throat. Your core grew damp. Suna’s gaze heated up, and his lip twitched with a tiny smirk.

“I can smell you.”

You bit your lip when his hand traveled up, up, until his skin was meeting delicate lace.

“So wet, omega.” He nipped at your leg. “And I haven’t even done anything. So good for your Alpha. So ready.”

His unoccupied hand hooked under your knee and tugged until your hips reached the edge of your couch, until you were laying back on it. Your eyes didn’t leave him. His words ran straight between your legs, making you clench hard. You bit your lip and looked at Suna with teary eyes.

“Rin.”

You had nothing else to say. Suna let out a breathy laugh and increased the pressure of his thumb on your slit. You gasped.

“Will you be good f’me?” His voice was octaves deeper. “Let me eat out your sweet little pussy?”

His crude language made you moan. Suna finally moved, lips going higher over your thigh until he bypassed your body completely and leaned up to connect his lips with yours. You grasped the sides of his face, kissing him back hard and deep. You poured every emotion into that one kiss, letting Suna lap over your lips hungrily. His scent enveloped you like a comforter, one hand pushing up the skirt of your dress while the other’s movements grew more urgent on your clothed pussy. You were slicking up rapidly. You could feel it run from your hole and down your ass until it landed on the couch. You couldn’t give less of a shit if you were dirtying the furniture. Your brain was rapidly turning into mush as your omega preened under Suna’s attention, his tongue invading your mouth like it was his own and he was only reclaiming it.

“Pretty baby.” He rasped into your mouth. “Good little omega. Get wetter for me. Need to drink all your juice.”

Your face felt like it was on fire, and you whined right against his lips. When he pulled away, you tried to chase after him, already addicted to the high that his lips brought. Suna hummed in amusement and tugged on your panties, pulling them off your ankles. He pressed the fabric directly to his nose and breathed deep. You watched him with half lidded eyes as you bit your lip to hell.

“You smell so fucking divine.” Suna groaned. “Always thought so. Loved cuddling up to you. Being close to you. My lovely omega.”

You moaned again, feeling how you gushed at his words. You didn’t realize you were into praise, but when it came from Suna, it lit a fire inside you. You clenched hard around nothing, now acutely aware of your rapidly building need.

“Rin,” you gasped. “Please. Please.”

“I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.” He shamelessly pried your legs open. You let him. “I’ll take such good care of my omega.”

His first lick was a thick stripe up your open slit, filthy and hungry, before he licked harder and faster over your clit. You gasped at the contact, the urgent relief of finally having stimulation you were craving so much. Your fingers automatically buried themselves in his soft hair, tugging tight at the roots. Suna hummed his approval and suctioned his lips on your clit, lapping and slurping like he was a man starved.

He was glorious at it, eating pussy like it was his last meal, hands holding your thighs apart firmly so his movements were unhindered. Stars burst in your vision and your hips jerked, not sure if you wanted to lean into him or tug away from how intense it was. Your torso undulated and arched, tears ran down the sides of your face and you moaned unencumbered. Suna seemed to enjoy it, because he pulled off with a wet smooch and replaced his lips with his thumb, not leaving you dry for one second.

“So fucking delicious.” His voice had gone scratchy and wrecked. “Good fucking girl. Moan for me, baby. God, I could do this forever.”

You felt something prod at your entrance before two fingers rapidly sank into you to the knuckle, curling hard and rubbing at your walls. You cried out again, not even embarrassed by how wet the noises became, how potent your scent was becoming, you badly you needed to cum on his fingers or you didn’t know what you would do-

His lips sealed over your clit and you were gone.

Suna didn’t even slow his movements as you reached your high. He helped prolong it, sucking harder and pushing his fingers in and out of you, scissoring and curling until your walls felt abused and used beyond belief. You wailed and weeped as you dug your fingers into the couch cushion under you. You had slid so far down the couch that it nearly bent you in half. You tried to close your legs and Suna finally pulled out, kissing over your mound a few times before he leaned up and attached his lips to the skin of your neck, licking and biting lightly over your scent gland, trying to embed his own scent into you. The feeling of him so close to that spot had your mind reeling. You hugged him close.

“Bite me.”

Suna kissed you again. “Not like this.”

“But I love you.”

He chuckled and sucked lightly on your skin until it darkened. “Still won’t mate you on a couch. When I do it, it’s going to be with your cunt full of my knot.”

You flushed and groaned in embarrassment, feeling the way your core pulsed again. Suna laughed and nuzzled your neck.

“Don’t worry. I have a lot of loving to give you before we get there.”

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flowercrowngods · 10 months

Text

this wouldn't leave me alone, so have my thoughts on a steve-centric "who did this to you?" steddie concept inspired by @imfinereallyy (i hope this is okay, even though it's uhhh nothing like what you mentioned)

When Eddie gets to the boathouse, he immediately notices that something is off. The door is cracked open but he can’t hear anyone talking or moving stuff around. No one ever comes here — it’s been his hideout spot since the ripe age of thirteen when he’d had hist first real fight with Wayne.

No one comes here. But now the door is cracked open and Eddie stares at it for a good minute as though that would make it come to life and tell him who’s inside so he won’t have to look and deal with whoever decided to steal his spot. He’s really not in the mood to start any shit today, or to be called all sorts of names — most of which aren’t even half as true as people fear.

His first instinct is to leave, find somewhere else to hide from this miserable world today, when he hears it. The sound of sniffling, followed by wet, heavy breaths.

Oh. It sounds like someone’s crying. In his spot.

Maybe it’s some girl who got her heart broken, some dude who lost the last bit of faith in his family, or some kid who—

Ah, fuck it, he’ll just come back later. Not his problem. Definitely not his problem. And it’s definitely not guilt or worry that gnaw at him as he turns on his heel to leave.

But then there’s a groan. A pained groan. Someone’s in pain, and crying in his spot, and Eddie really shouldn’t make that his problem. He shouldn't. Nopbody cares when he's crying and in pain either! But fuck if he won’t be thinking about it for the rest of his life if he turns his back on whoever it is. Maybe they need help.

They most certainly sound like they do.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie is already at the door before he can think about it too much.

“Hello?” he asks the darkness, and immediately the sniffling stops.

Silence falls, but only for a moment before whoever it is has to draw shaky, wheezing breaths that make Eddie swear under his breath.

“Listen, I know you’re here.” He’s taking slow, deliberate steps, his eyes roaming he mess of boats, tools and tarp he knows so well. “And I’m not trying to start anything. Tell me to go away and I will. But I have a first aid kit in my car and, uh, you sound like maybe you need it.”

There’s no response, but the wheezing breaths turn into whimpers with every second that whoever it is tries very hard not to make any noise, and Eddie’s heart starts to race in his chest. He can feel worry and panic starting to rise. And overshadowing it is an overwhelming sense of dread.

What the fuck is happening?

He tries to be careful but his mind is racing and his limbs are starting to feel like lead. His wary steps become heavy and clumsy, and then he accidentally boots something that makes a terrible, horrible noise, breaking the eerie silence. Eddie cringes and is about to apologise, when finally there is movement in his peripheral vision.

And then he sees him. There, hidden in the shadows between a boat and the far wall, his face breaten and bloodied, his eye swelling around a nasty bruise. Wait, do bruises bleed? Should they look black like that? Is it a cut? Something worse?

Even after years of constant bullying and goading in middle school and high school, he has never actually seen someone look like this. With their face completely smashed in. It makes him freeze for a horrible, horrible moment before he saps out of it.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, hurrying over as fast as he can, stumbling over tools and tarp as he does. Something falls to the floor with a loud clunk and it makes the boy flinch again. Eddie curses. “Sorry, shit, sorry!”

He makes it to the boat rather quickly, crouching down in front of the boy a few feet away so as not to spook him, not to crowd him. And then his heart only plummets further, because he knows this one.

Steve Harrington. The boy who’s come to school with many a black eye over the past two years — but never this bad. The boy who’s been looking like the world might be about to end each time he rounded a corner in school; ever since things started happening around Hawkins. Since the Holland girl died and the Byers boy disappeared.

It fascinated Eddie, the way Steve fell from grace. The way he turned quiet, and showed up with healing bruises. There are stories woven around it, because teenagers like to gossip and word spreads fast, and Eddie always listened with rapt attention as Harrington turned into a bit of a myth. A legend. A ghost story.

But fascination is not what he feels right now, seeing Steve like this.

His eyes are unfocused and Eddie knows about the danger of head injuries. He knows about the consequences of blood loss, he knows that Steve will be warm to the touch even though he’s shivering already, and… Fuck!

“Shit, Steve,” he rasps, not daring to speak louder lest he spooks the boy. Of all the reasons he’s had to be afraid of talking to Steve Harrington, this one might be the cruellest. "I..."

He takes in his wounds, his bruised and scraped knuckles where his hands are wrapped around the knees he’s pulled to his chest, and his split lip that he keeps biting.

Eddie swallows before he asks, “Who did this to you?”

But Steve just shakes his head clumsily. Sniffles again, and then his breath comes in wet heaves, and Eddie worries for a moment that he’s going to throw up now.

He doesn’t.

Steve’s just staring. Eddie isn’t even entirely sure he can see him, or maybe he did and then forgot, or maybe he’s fading. Eddie should do something, he should get help, he should—

“Steve,” he says, and dares to touch him when he doesn’t react.

A light touch to the knee shouldn’t make anyone flinch like that, but Steve’s whole body jumps, and then the shivers and the wheezing get worse. It almost sounds like a whimper, and Eddie curses again. Feels like crying now, scared and helpless as he is.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay, I— Jesus, okay.” He swallows hard, trying to think, willing for the panic to subside and a plan to form. “You’re okay. I... I’m gonna, I’m gonna grab the first aid kit. I have it in my car. It’s not, it’s not far. And a blanket. So you'll be warm again. I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t move, don’t…" He gestures wildly, caught between reaching out and pulling away. "Don’t move.”

Eddie takes a wavering breath and moves to stand on numb, tingly legs, nearly missing Steve’s, “Can’t.” It’s barely more than a whisper, hardly even a wheeze. It’s like he’s just breathing out words because everything else is too much effort.

Right. Right. This is messed up and Eddie’s panicking, but Steve will be okay. Because things like that don’t happen, not here, not today, and not to Steve Harrington.

Except this is Hawkins. Where Will Byers disappeared and Barb Holland died and many people are missing and weird shit just ends up happening everywhere even though they’re all just kids. They’re just kids. And Steve’s not even conscious enough to realise that right now.

Eddie all but runs outside, sprinting to his van with a speed that would make the coach swallow his stupid whistle if gym class only mattered right now. It doesn't. Nothing matters, because Steve is... He's hurt. And there's no one else around to help.

Grabbing the first aid kit, a bottle of water and a thick blanket he always keeps spread out in the back of his van, he makes it back to the boathouse in no time.

He wasn’t even gone for three minutes, but still he sighs in relief when Steve is still awake. He even looks up. Blinks. Frowns in what can only be confusion and makes Eddie's heart fall.

“Munson?”

Fuck, that’s not a good sign. That’s messed up, it’s fucked up, it’s— Focus, Eddie!

“The one and only,” he says, voice shaky and his smile not fooling anyone. He wraps the blanket around Steve, whose eyes are unfocused again, though he tries so hard to blink it away.

Brave boy, stupid boy. Head trauma isn’t blinked away. Though Eddie is inclined to let him try. Maybe he’ll find a way.

“Here.” He hands the bottle over to Steve, who grabs it with clumsy hands. He can hold it, but he can’t get it open — again, not a good sign.

Eddie opens it for him, then turns to his first aid kit. It seemed like a great idea five minutes ago, but he’s petrified now. It’s too dark in here and he can’t really see the wounds, he doesn’t know what to use, what’s in there, he doesn’t, he can’t, he—

The bottle, empty now, is handed back to him, bumping into his hand, tearing him away from his spiralling thoughts.

“Thanks,” Harrington breathes, and there’s a small smile visible in the darkness. Eddie just nods and takes it with hands that are still shaking.

“I wanna help you,” he says, like it isn’t obvious. “But I don’t know how. You gotta tell me where it hurts, Steve.”

A beat. “Everywhere.”

Eddie sags, falling back to sit opposite Steve, frantically rubbing at his face. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Steve chuckles, but it sounds so wet with tears and pain, Eddie never wants to hear it again. “Thought I could do it.”

He’s talking. That’s a good thing, right? He can’t pass out as long as he’s talking. That’s how that works, isn’t it? So, Eddie asks, “Do what?”

“Doctors told me,” Steve sighs, his voice slow and slurring. “Told me to... to stay out of fights. Stay out of them. Said I had to make sure my head won’t—“

He makes a motion with his fist, and Eddie thinks he’s simulating a punch, disoriented as it is. It makes his heart fall. Is that what happened? Someone beat Steve to a pulp? Again? Just like that?

Eddie is so stuck on that thought, trying to piece together the puzzle, that he almost misses Steve’s mumbled speech.

“Y’know, th— Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.” He says it to matter-of-factly that Eddie’s heart stops for a second.

What the fuck happened to Steve Harrington? Not just today, no. What happened to him?

What happend to make him look up at Eddie Munson, out of all people, with glistening eyes so endlessly scared, and say, “I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture. I can't—” A wheeze, a keen, a whimper, and Harringtin pulls at his hair, uncaring that he's making things worse.

Meanwhile, Eddie is stuck on his words. Because what.

“Can’t, can't die now ‘cause Tommy thinks he’s so… He’s… He’s just sad, man. Griev'n' and confused. But Billy’s gone, an'— And now I’ll…”

Steve looks at him now, his eyes shining with tears and something that Eddie’s written poems about and created characters around. This expression, like the world will end. And inspiring as it is, it fucking breaks his heart now.

“They said my brain is hurt, Eddie.”

Eddie swallows the hurt and the fear and the complete overwhelm he's feeling. Steve is telling him things that Eddie doesn't know how to handle.

“You won’t die, Steve,” he says in as gentle a voice as he can muster right now, because that's the only thing he knows.

And he won’t, right? People don’t just die. Not from taking a punch, not when they just graduated high school, not when they’re Steve Harrington. Right?

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Steve breathes. “That’s good.”

Eddie wants to hug him in that moment. He never knew that this was possible, wanting to hug Steve Harrington, wanting to wrap the blanket around him even tighter and keep him safe and convince him that he won’t die.

And then the rest of what he said catches up with Eddie and leaves anger in its wake.

“Hagan did that to you?”

Steve nods. “Started going off about Billy.”

Eddie’s blood freezes at that name. "Hargrove?”

Another nod, though Steve doesn’t look too happy about moving his head, and he groans quietly. “They were friends. Tommy is angry. Grieving. Con— Confused. He was just saying shit, like it’s my fault. And it is. Kinda. But Tommy’s, he, he’s... Just saying shit. And then he punched me. A lot. And he didn’t stop. And now… is now.”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes dumbly, carefully bandaging the glaring wound at his temple, needing to start somewhere. “Now is now.” His blood is still frozen as he tries very hard not to listen to Steve. Nothing that Harrington says has any right to matter anything to him; they live in two different worlds. If Harrington confesses to murder while severely concussed under Eddie’s watch, then there are no witnesses to drag either of them through the mud for it. Eddie is just gonna forget about it. Or try, anyway. “But you’re… Shit , Steve, you’re really hurt.”

Steve blinks. Pauses. And Eddie thinks he’s lost him. But then, “Yeah. I’m always hurt.”

And that, in this little voice, is like a gut punch. Because Eddie knows something about always hurt. “What?”

“What?”

There is ice in his veins as he asks, “Who’s hurting you, Steve?”

Steve looks at him, opening his mouth once, twice, like he’s about to say something and Eddie holds his breath. But then Steve’s eyes droop and he shrinks in on himself a bit more.

“Jus’ everyone, sometimes. God you don’t… You don’t even know.”

Know what, Harrington? Eddie can barely breathe anymore.

“’M tired, Eddie,” Steve mumbles, closing his eyes. “Don’t wanna hurt anymore.”

“Hey, hey, no!” Eddie reaches out, catching Steve’s head and preventing it from colliding with the floor as he’s slumping and falling over.

And just like that, the panic is back, frantic but determined this time. He’s going to get help; there’s nothing he can do with his lousy first aid kit, not when Steve keeps going in and out of consciousness like that. Not when he can barely see anything or clean the wounds properly.

He’s going to get Steve to a hospital and allow them both to forget this ever happened. Because Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson don’t breathe the same air or share traumatic stories in a boathouse like this.

He’ll get out of Steve’s hair the second the hospital doors close behind him, and get out of whatever trouble someone like Harrington could be in. Eddie doesn’t even want to know. He doesn't want to be part of his ghost story.

But as he’s scooping him up and helping him out of the damned boathouse, clumsily preventing him from stumbling over his own feet or tools or tarp or planks or whatever fucking shit is littering the floor of this godforsaken place, he can hear Steve speaking quietly.

"Where‘re we going?"

And even though a second ago he was determined to take Steve to a hospital, there is only one place on Eddie's mind right now. Only one place he knows where he won't be scared anymore.

"Somewhere safe," he says, tightening his hold on the boy even though his hands are shaking now, too. He looks over his shoulders the moment they're out of the boathouse, stupidly worried that whoever did this to Steve – Hagan, apparently – would still be around, would follow them and do the same shit to Eddie.

"Safe?"

"Safe."

"Okay," Steve sighs, like he believes him. Like he trusts him. Hell, they've never even spoken before, but something inside Eddie breaks at the little sigh, at the way Steve goes slack in his arms. And even more at the little, "Thanks."

If Eddie's eyes are filled with tears and the hands around the wheel are clenched so tight to hide the way they're shaking, then Steve is not conscious enough to comment on it.

(addendum 7 december) onwards to part 2

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #this is somewhere between s3 and s4 obviously #but also i just re-read the op post and realised that this is nothing like what they wished for so uh. sorry? never trust me with prompts y #who did this to you #hurt steve #steve harrington whump #pre-steddie #sorry op maybe i'll try again and get it right this time but uh. yeah #dio words

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xxsabitoxx · 8 months

Text

When You're Stronger Then Them

Jujutsu Kaisen Men x AFAB Reader

Warnings: No explicit content but there are some suggestive themes. All Characters are 18+ in this post!

the tiny lil line dividers are from the lovely @/benkeibear

Gojo Satoru

You? Stronger than him? Don’t make him laugh

At least that’s what he’s thinking until you two decide to train for hand-to-hand combat

Satoru is mildly shocked when you manage to keep up with him, you’re quick on your feet and have good reflexes

When you manage to land a good, hard hit to his gut, he realizes there’s no point in trying to hold back with you

In the end, you were both tangled on the exercise mats, panting heavily. Satoru had you pinned, a triumphant look on his face as he smirked down at you.

"I win again." He huffed out, resting more of his weight on you just to see you wheeze. "Yeah w-whatever." You stopped struggling, looking up at him just a little defeated. "You put up a good fight though, I'm impressed." He smiled, still lying on top of you like a dead weight. He had your arms pinned above your head, one knee between your legs to keep them from closing. In any other situation, the position would be pretty lewd. "I'm no match when it comes to cursed energy Satoru." though you felt pretty proud of yourself for keeping up with him in combat like this. You watched him open his mouth, ready to make a response, that was your opening. With one swift movement, you were able to flip the both of you. Satoru looked mildly shocked as you straddled him, his hands still griping your wrists. "I win."

Geto Suguru

He typically has the advantage when it comes to training

He won't use his strongest curses on you, but you also won't give it your all because you don't want to kill his "valuable" curses.

So you usually train in hand-to-hand combat, where neither of you hold back. Not even a little bit.

Suguru (like Satoru) had been holding back the first time you sparred and was quickly corrected when he just barely blocked a kick to his head. Which had him blinking at you in shock.

Five rounds later, you've got Suguru pinned to the mat with your ass on top of his head, effectively immobilizing him.

"This is just cruel." Suguru's voice is slightly muffled by the way his cheek is pressing into the mat. "No, this is fair. You really tried to hold back on me earlier." You laughed softly as Suguru huffed, not even trying to get you off of him anymore. "Ya know, this isn't a terrible punishment-" he chuckled as you immediately got off of him, muttering something about how he's "such a pervert." He only laughed harder, sitting up and watching you flop down on the mat next to him. "You're strong, really strong. When did that happen?" he wiped the sweat from his brow as you cracked open a water bottle. "I've been training hard, it's fun being able to beat your ass." you could tell he immediately wanted to say something to defend himself but stopped short when he realized you were right. "yeah, whatever."

Nanami Kento

He's reluctant to train with you, he'd much rather just go work out or something calmer. But you're so damn persistent...

He gives in, agreeing to spar with you one evening, weapons allowed and everything (which he hates but you're so excited.)

Much to Nanami's surprise, you manage to knock the wind out of him within the first five minutes, squeaking out an apology

He assures you it's fine, admitting he had initially underestimated you... you can tell he's getting a bit into it now.

An hour later, you're both dripping sweat and panting, You've got your blade pressed to his throat while pinning one arm down with your foot, the other pinned with your knee.

"Ready to give up, Kento?" You were panting, watching him catch his breath while shamelessly looking your body over. His eyes on you made you feel hot all over, swallowing nervously as he took a moment to respond. "I suppose so." his voice is hoarse, making you spring off of him a little faster than you intended. "Sorry if I was too rough." you noticed a welt forming on his wrist from where you had knelt on it, hand reaching out to rub it without thinking. Nanami was frozen for a moment, watching you rub tender circles on the red mark until it slowly began to fade. "Don't apologize, I had fun." hearing THE Nanami Kento tell you he had fun while training was enough to make you feel dizzy for a moment. "Really? You? You had fun getting your ass handed to you?" you tried not to smirk, but the quiet laughter that left him made it impossible "yeah, I did."

Fushiguro Toji

It took no time at all to convince the man to "spar" with you

Toji agreed almost instantly, solely for the fact that he could get his hands on you and it wouldn't be weird.

Ulterior motives are Toji's specialty, so it shouldn't be a surprise that you manage to catch him off guard instantly and get him flat on his back, katana pressed just under his chin

He hadn't expected you to actually be this strong, never mind getting him on his ass within seconds

Though he has to admit, it excites him to no end

"Eh? I win again, Toji? I have a feeling you just like me straddling you." You were caging him, thighs on either side of his waist as you kept the blade pressed to his chest, feeling his heartbeat thump erratically. "Aw, you caught me red-handed sweetheart." he practically purred, watching you get off of him with an eye roll. “C’mon Toji, it ain’t beneficial to me if you’re just letting me knock you on your ass.” You taunt him, watching him get up with ease as he smiled at you. “Ah, so you want me to pin you instead?” You huff out a laugh at that, wiping the sweat from your brow as you nod. “Yeah, kinda the whole point… though I’m seriously starting to question your skills… I don’t think you could pin me to this mat if you tried.” He loved a good challenge… and a bitch with a sharp tongue. You had the man before you completely enthralled now. “Bring it, sweetheart.”

Okkotsu Yuta

He's down to spar if you ask him, but he's going to hold back

You know you stand no chance at beating him when it comes to curse energy which is why you opt for hand-to-hand

Needless to say, Yuta doesn't hold back after you get him pinned to the mats within ten seconds.

You're not fragile, nor are you weak. So, Yuta quickly realizes how insulting it would be if he tried to hold back with you. What he hadn't expected was for you to be genuinely stronger

Two hours later, you're both collapsed on the mats, sweating and panting as you try to give your aching bodies a proper break.

"I underestimated you, so hard." Yuta wheezed, head turning to look at where you were sprawled out on the mat. “I know you did.” You chuckle, not at all offended by this information. “When did you get so strong?” His question was genuine, genuine enough to have you turning your head to look at him too. “When you were training in Africa.” You chuckled, sitting up and noting the bruises forming on his biceps. “I did a number on you, huh?” You moved closer, fingers gingerly tracing the black and blue marks. Trying to ignore the way goosebumps erupted across his skin. Yuta flinched a bit, not because it hurt but because you were touching him so softly. “D-don’t worry about it. I don’t mind, really!” He squeaked, warmth blossoming across his cheeks as you laughed. “At least let me patch you up, it’s the least I could do.” But your tone only had the poor man turning a deeper shade of red.

Itadori Yuji

His hands are rated E for everyone.

Yuji is trilled when you ask him to train with you

Yuji knows better than to hold back, even if you’re a woman. He knows you’re strong and that it would be doing you a disservice to even think about holding back

Yuji is mildly surprised when you’re able to keep up with his hand-to-hand combat skills. Cursed energy easily goes to you but he figure he'd have some advantage with physical combat.

Needless to say, it excites him heavily, especially since most prefer to just train with strictly curse energy.

“Dare I say I won?” You tease the pink haired man, one hand on his wrists while your thighs rest on either side of his chest. Sweaty and breathless, Yuji sighs, nodding his head and throwing in the towel. “You’re amazing.” He comments as you get off him, wiping your sweat with your shirt before flopping down on the mat as Yuji sits up. “So are you, Yuji! You’re crazy strong.” You smile, eyes fluttering shut as you try and ease your racing heart. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so strong or fast! I-I don’t want that to sound rude or anything…” you laughed as he quickly tried to ease the worries you didn’t have. “I don’t take any offense, Yu. I think of it as an advantage. When opponents underestimate me it’s usually too late.” You tease, using your foot to tap his thigh. He nodded, hanging on to every word you spoke. “I see, it’s pretty cool honestly.” He flashed you that familiar grin, one that always made a smile tug at your own lips. “Thanks, Yu.”

Fushiguro Megumi

Absolutely refuses until you mention that Yuji’s trained with you plenty of times

Even then, he’s reluctant as you drag him into the training room and explain you’d rather just do hand-to-hand combat and save using curse energy for another day

Megumi thinks he has the advantage, assuming you’re underestimating his combat abilities

That is, until you actually start sparring. Before he knows it, he’s getting flashbacks to years prior when he’d ask Gojo to train him

The last thing he expected was to be tossed across the room by you, hitting the mats with a hard thump.

“Oh fuck! Megumi I’m sorry!” You squeaked as he groaned, sitting up a moment prior as you crossed the distance and sat next to him. “D-don’t be.” He choked out, heat flooding his face. “Are you hurt? I didn’t think you’d go that far!” Once he shakes his head, you begin to laugh a bit. “I really sent you flying.” Megumi looks up at you, glaring just a bit as you chuckled. “Yeah, any harder and you may have sent me through the damn wall… when the hell did you get so strong?” You sigh, laughter subsiding as you shrug. “I dunno, maybe I’ve just always held back when training with you.” You shot him a wink, standing up again and creating space. “Are you ready to go again? Or are you tapping out?” You smirk, watching the determination light up his green eyes. “Bull shit I’m tapping out, we’re just getting started.” Megumi is getting to his feet, readying himself in a fighting stance as you smile. “Alright then, don’t blame me if you actually go through the wall next time, Meg.”

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moonbaby26 · 1 month

Text

Their Favorite Parts

*crossposted to AO3 here*

Prompt: One Piece men and the parts of your body that they fixate on most.

Reader Type: GN!Reader

Characters: Doflamingo, Kuzan/Aokiji, Crocodile, Smoker, Buggy, Mihawk, Shanks, Law

Warnings: language, references to sex, penetration, oral, and foreplay

———————————

Doflamingo/Holes

He actually can be gentle with you. But you’ve found that level of care is always only a precursor to something else that he wants. And in the end, he can’t ever let you back to sleep until he’s been inside at least one of your holes and fully spent himself within it.

Whether this wretched man is pounding between your thighs, or probing you with those long fingers, or dampening you with that equally obscene tongue…he wants to be as deep inside of you as he can possibly be.

He loves you most when you’re trembling, thighs spread beneath him. Or on your knees looking up as your eyes water with your mouth full of his length. He’ll tell you what a good pet you are even as you plead or choke.

But it’s as if you were made perfectly for him. He’ll never feel this with another lover. You’re his favorite until he destroys it all. And even then, he may just pull you from the ash to start with you again. Because he would sincerely miss you in his next empire.

Kuzan/Aokiji/Chest

He loves to sleep with his head on your chest. He can hear your heartbeat then and know that you’re still really there. That this isn’t all some terrible illusion, as much as he still feels he doesn’t deserve you and can’t keep you.

His life has been too complicated. All the way from a respected, yet conflicted marine to whatever the hell people are calling him these days. But you never seem to judge him. You still believe in him, even now. He doesn’t understand your loyalty, but he loves you for it.

And when the two of you are awake and intimate, he’ll be behind you, hands holding your warm chest as his fingers massage it. The way you lean back into him as your chill bumps form is so trusting. You know that he could freeze your heart in an instant if he chose to. But of course he never would. He wants this to last forever. He needs you at his side.

Sir Crocodile/Hips

He is certain you do it on purpose by now. The way your ever tight clothing forms around your body. It feels like a specific challenge you’ve made against him. As if you are daring his eyes not to follow you across the room as your hips sway while you walk.

You’re his favorite assassin already. Though perhaps he can take some blame for letting this favoritism start to go to your head. And yet, even when he plans to punish you, he finds himself enjoying it too much. It’s hard to keep you humble when he’s still moaning your name as he fucks you over the top of his desk.

With his one hand he grabs into that fleshy hip, riding you to his release as his hook stays warningly against the side of your face. But while you smirk against that curved metal as he finally cums, he knows you haven’t learned your lesson at all. Yet he also realizes that there are still years of this game to come. You’re too efficient to get rid of you anytime soon.

Smoker/Lips

It was the first thing he ever noticed about you. Just how pouty your lips could look, even as you argued and bitched at him on the battlefield. You cursed him through those lips, always lamenting that he made your shared marine ship smell like an ashtray.

And by the time he’d found his way into your bunk one night, those same lips were about the only thing he would put his cigars down for. He’d wanted to kiss you for so long. By the time you finally let him, he never wanted to lose that high again.

It could be soft, it could be rough. Just like you and your ever changing moods. You acted like you hated him until your mouth was over his. Then you were thrusting against him soon enough and whimpering even as you both knew you couldn’t wake the rest of the ship.

He always started and ended sex with you with those damned lips. And every time he knew curses would be flying from them again tomorrow, even if his name would also be moaning out through them just as passionately each night.

Buggy/Butt

His life was a circus. And not just in the literal way he would have preferred. Somehow every move he made garnered new success, but equal terror. He never knew what tomorrow would bring. As Cross Guild’s infamy grew, so did his reputation along with it.

But his nerves were shot, and you could tell. When the others bullied him, you never added to it. He hadn’t a clue why you’d chosen him. But he wouldn’t take it for granted either as you’d come to sit in his lap, late at night in his room. You’d call him your captain, your emperor even, grinding that perfect ass into him as you tried to cheer him up.

And it always worked. As he’d a bit too desperately slide your pants from you, you always humored him. Letting his hands massage and hold that enticing rear. If he wanted to spank you, you let him do that too. It was just so soft and…comforting? He might not admit it, but you were his only remaining stability in this place. If he lost you, that would have been his breaking point. But he trusted you too when you promised that you were in it for the long haul. He was already your pirate king.

Mihawk/Eyes

It was the way you’d looked at him that first time the two of you had ever crossed paths. You weren’t afraid of his history, even as you’d seen him kill a lesser swordsman right in front of you.

By the time he got to know you better, he’d realized just how much he liked to gaze into those eyes. It was as if he could feel what you were thinking. And as your confidence grew, that ‘come hither’ look of yours became far more prominent as well.

Just with a glance, he knew exactly when you were craving to have those physical needs sated. And he certainly respected that need, finding it rather quickly a mutual one as he’d often carry you to his bed.

And even then as his hips would be pumping skillfully against your own, you’d be looking up at him in a haze of pleasure with those same beautiful eyes. A view for him alone, one he would cherish and protect forever more.

Shanks/Legs

It might have been a bit too crass on his part, that afternoon in the bar when he’d first noticed you from across the room. But his ship wouldn’t be in port for long. There wasn’t time to play this subtle. No, not at all as he’d whistled loudly, catcalling you while his crew had laughed.

He’d gotten the full view as well when those same lovely legs had carried you right back up to the bar to tell him to go fuck himself. And the way he’d smiled at you just pissed you off even further of course.

Your anger made you stay. And it was definitely a talent of his to inspire that, but he was persistent too. Soon enough you’d let him buy you a drink, and then a few more. By the time the two of you had been stumbling out of the bar, you were letting him know your room number at the nearby inn. You wanted to know if he was just all talk. He assured you that he was not.

And that night as he did get the privilege of those legs being wrapped around him as your bed creaked and shook in a marathon of lovemaking, he realized his crew probably could find more room on the ship. You had no ties to this town either.

By morning he was more than pleased when you agreed to board. Beck had protested a little, just at the sudden impracticality of yet another mouth to feed. But Shanks knew you would fit in fine, all of you and those legs laying in his bunk warm beside him for years to come on your way through the New World.

Law/Hands

With an epithet like the Surgeon of Death, he of course knew better than most on the importance of dexterity and skill with the hands. Without his own, he felt that he would have been useless.

But this appreciation for such talent had quickly extended to you once he’d finally given in. He’d ignored you for as long as he could, too logical in his understanding of how reckless it’d be to pursue a member of his own crew. But so many days and nights alone under the ocean’s surface had finally worn him down.

The night on the Polar Tang when those skillful fingers of yours had finally been in his hair, and finally unbuttoning his pants soon after was one that had been so long coming. You’d gotten to see that other side of him then as he unraveled almost shamefully beneath your stroking and assurances.

He’d taken care of everyone else for so long you told him, playing the part of their stoic leader. But you knew he was far from only that as your hands drew out all his pent up need.

You promised him that he was safe with you. That you were with him until the end. And it was all true. The captain of the Heart Pirates would remain within your capable hands for as long as he desired to. And that desire would prove to be unbreakable.

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 17 days

Text

Walk The Line.

Carmen gets a little jealous. You don’t mind in the slightest.

roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. semi public antics.

word count - 2.5k

authors note - ask and you shall receive 😌. i’ll never get enough of roommate!carmy. i’ll be writing him forever. <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

He’s a little out of his depth, admittedly.

The invitation had been slid under your front door, pretty handwriting on creamy paper.

“A… party?”

“Does it say party, Carmen?”

“No, it says ‘mixer.’ What the fuck is a mixer?”

You laugh, scrubbing a mark off the final dish in the sink before placing it down in the drying rack. Carmy is sat on the counter across the kitchen, reading the invite over and over.

“Seriously, babe. The fuck does mixer mean? So it isn’t a party?”

You dry your hands and make your way over to take the paper from him, eyes scanning over it carefully.

“A mixer is like… a get to know each other thing. It’s sort of like a party, I guess, but not really. Just a casual gathering type situation.”

“Sounds fucking stupid,” he grumbles.

You smack his shoulder, rolling your eyes.

“Lighten up, asshole. It could be fun.”

“Fun? You think having a mixer with all the neighbours from our building on a Friday night is gonna be fun?”

“I think it sounds like an incredible time. My ideal evening. I can’t wait.”

You can’t even pretend not to laugh, grabbing onto his thigh to keep yourself balanced. He puts his hands on your shoulders, trying to look serious, but the grin fighting its way up his cheeks gives him away.

“You really wanna go?”

“Carm, if it’s terrible, we’ll just lie and say we’ve got plans elsewhere. We’ll run away screaming if we need to. It might be good for us though, to meet our neighbours properly. It’s good to get to know them, just in case we ever need anything.”

“What, like a cup of sugar? What is this, the thirties?”

“When you’re testing recipes and fucking them all up, you might be grateful to be able to nip next door and borrow a cup of sugar.”

“I don’t fuck recipes up.”

“No? Then why were you yelling at a lavender and oat crème brûlée last week?”

“It was mocking me,” he grumbles under his breath, hanging his head.

You can’t help but laugh, moving closer to stand between his manspread legs where he still sits on the counter. You brush a piece of hair back from his forehead, tracing your index finger in a featherlight touch down the bridge of his nose. He looks down at you, eyes glued to yours.

“I know for a fact you don’t have anything else planned on Friday,” you whisper.

He rolls his eyes but leans into your touch anyway, where you’re still tracing along the features of his face.

“You promise we can leave if it’s terrible?”

“We literally live in this building. We can just walk up the stairs and be home.”

He huffs, but relents.

“Fine. But please don’t leave me alone with all of the middle aged moms. They love me.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” you giggle, leaning in to rest your head on his chest. His arms encircle you, pulling you as close as he can.

Is this scene too intimate for roommates? Without a doubt.

Do either of you care? Not in the slightest.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

It’s not as bad as he thought it’d be.

The middle aged moms have pulled through, actually. The lobby is decorated with fairy lights, tables covered in alcohol set up against the walls. Everyone has a drink in their hand, chatting and mingling amongst themselves.

You and Carmen walk downstairs a little late. He’d finished his shift and run home to shower and make himself look semi presentable before facing the neighbours.

“We need a signal,” he says suddenly, right as you reach the staircase. “In case of emergencies.”

“Pat your head.”

“Real subtle.”

“It doesn’t need to be subtle, it needs to be noticeable for me.”

“Fine,” he mutters, bumping his shoulder into yours. “Don’t leave me alone with that Erica lady. She scares me.”

“Yes sir,” you mock salute, slipping your hand into his momentarily. “You’ll be fine, Carmen. Like I said, we’ll just leave if it’s awful.”

It’s not awful, actually. It’s quite fun.

It’s nice to get to know the people in your building, seeing as you have lived there for a couple of years now. Carmen has been there even longer.

“Excuse me, sweetheart?”

You turn around to be met with an old lady, leaning carefully on her cane.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’m Dorothy. I live in 2B, and I just had to tell you that you look beautiful in your dress.”

You smile, pulling out a chair for her, which she takes gladly. You sit down next to her, spotting Carmy chatting with a couple of guys across the room.

“Thank you so much!”

You introduce yourself, telling her your name and apartment number.

“Ah yes,” she hums in recognition. “You live with your boyfriend who has all the tattoos.”

You almost choke on your drink.

“We’re just roommates,” you say eventually. “But yes, that’s him.”

“Oh, my apologies. I just assumed.”

You’re curious, suddenly. You know you shouldn’t be, but you can’t help yourself.

“Can I ask? Why you… thought we were dating?”

She chuckles knowingly before placing a hand on your knee.

“Honey, he’s got a hand on you at all times. He looks at you like you are the sun. Every time you walk past my window, you’re both laughing. Sounds like love to me.”

Her bluntness is refreshing, if not a little intimidating. No one will say it how it is more than a little old lady who can’t mind her business.

“We, uh… we’re close. He’s a good roommate. A good friend.”

She doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, chuckling as she pats your leg.

“Uh huh. That’s what I said about my husband - real good friend. We’ve been married 58 years.”

You smile, shaking your head.

“Is he here with you?”

“He’s upstairs. He can’t really leave the apartment, these days.”

“You know, if you ever need anything, me and Carmen would be happy to help.”

“No, sweetheart, I couldn’t ask you to-”

“-you’re not asking me, I’m offering. Carmen is an award winning chef at one of the best restaurants in this city. He’d be more than happy to make a meal or two when needed. And I can pick you guys up stuff from the grocery store when I go, too.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, grabbing your hand in her frail one. “You’re good kids, you two.”

You grin at her, squeezing her hand gently.

“You know where I am, if you need me.”

She nods, standing up carefully.

“I’m going to go see if that handsome Jeremy will come and fix my shower for me. He did promise.”

You laugh, watching as she makes a beeline for one of the dads stood in a huddle. You catch eyes with Carmy, who’s still chatting away with a few of the younger guys. He winks at you, all cheeky and carefree, and you can’t help but flush, heat prickling across your skin. You shake your head, smiling, winking back.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on your bicep. You spin sideways, to be met with the sight of a very handsome man. Dark hair, big brown eyes, tall - he looks slightly like a movie star you can’t quite remember the name of. You crane your neck to meet his gaze, smiling softly.

He holds out his hand to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m Daniel.”

You tell him your name, trying to ignore how his hand engulfs yours.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Have you lived here long? Think I’d remember a face like yours.”

Now he shakes his head.

“A month, maybe. I live in 6C. I’ve been working a lot, so haven’t had any time for introductions.”

“Ah. What do you do?”

“I’m a model.”

Of course he is.

“What do you do?”

As you start to tell him, his eyes fix on yours, not leaving for a moment. He listens carefully, both of you blocking out the noise and focusing on each other.

Turns out, Daniel is good company. The two of you find a spot in the corner, away from the noise and the wine drunk moms. The two of you laugh, joke, and talk about Chicago as if you’re old friends. Time slips away from you easily, conversation flowing with minimal effort.

“I don’t want to leave, trust me… but I have a super early call time tomorrow. If you wanted, we could grab a drink sometime, somewhere that’s not our buildings lobby?”

You laugh, nodding.

“Yeah, I’d like that. It was nice to meet you, Daniel.”

“You too. Here,” he says, handing you a small business card with his number on, “text me.”

“I might do just that,” you tease as he walks away grinning.

You’re on your way to grab another drink when a hand slinks around your wrist.

“Hi, Carmen.”

You don’t even have to turn to know who it is, recognising the feeling of his calloused hand against your soft skin.

“Where’s your friend gone?” he all but grumbles.

“He’s gone home, got to be up early for work.”

“Haven’t we all.”

“Ooo, okay Mr Attitude. You’re not having a good night? You didn’t give me the signal.”

“Would you have noticed if I did?”

You spin around to face him properly now.

“Yes, I would have. Because we’re in a tiny fucking lobby and not a football stadium, Carmen.”

He huffs.

“Didn’t think you’d notice if the building fell down, the way you were lost in his eyes.”

“I know it’s a foreign concept to you, Carmen, but eye contact is actually a very important part of conversation. Try it some time.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, grip on your wrist tightening.

“Come on,” he mumbles. “Wanna show you something.”

He practically drags you up the stairs, and up some more, and up some more. Eventually, you reach the roof.

The sun is just setting, casting the city in a warm orange glow. Everything is so calm, so peaceful, so serene. It’s beautiful.

You’re admiring the view when suddenly your feet are no longer on the ground. Carmy has you over his shoulder, carrying you across the rooftop to the brick wall.

“The fuck are you doing?” you cry as he finally puts you down.

He smashes his lips to yours, choosing to shut you up rather than answer you. You kiss back eagerly, confused but not disappointed at the turn in events. Slipping your hands into his hair, you tug him into you, groaning as he grabs at your ass.

“Carmen,” you breathe, “why don’t we just go home?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he mumbles against your neck, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. When he bites down, you smack his shoulder.

“No marks, asshole. The fuck is up with you?”

Again, he says nothing, just slips his hand under your dress to run his fingers over your underwear. You part your legs instantly, leaning back into the wall to steady yourself.

“Carmen, someone’s gonna see if they come up here.”

“Well then you better come quickly.”

He slips your panties to the side, running his fingers through your wet heat. You keen, knees buckling already.

“Oh baby,” he chuckles. “This all for Daniel?”

It all clicks for you suddenly.

“That’s what-” you choke as he slides a finger into you. “That’s what - fuck - has you so riled up? Daniel?”

“Don’t say his name when I’m knuckle deep, baby. It’s rude.”

You attempt to scoff, but it comes out as more of a moan when he presses his thumb to your clit, circling carefully.

“Am I not giving you what you need, honey? Is that it? Greedy girl just wants more, so she looks elsewhere to get it?”

“No,” you justify quickly. “You know that’s not true.”

“If you can still form sentences, I’m clearly doing something wrong.”

He slips a second finger in, curling them exactly the way he knows you like.

“Carm.”

“He couldn’t make you feel like this, babe. You and I both know it.”

You’re nodding, fingers gripping his shirt tightly as if you’re scared he’s going to walk away. His lips press into your neck again, nipping along the expanse of skin.

“Say it.”

“Hmm?”

You’re dazed, mind hazy with Carmen Carmen Carmen Carmen Carmen.

“Say. It.”

He punctuates his words by curling his fingers harshly. You’re seeing stars, legs giving out.

“He - he… fuck, Carmen, please.”

“So close, honey. Try again.”

You know he won’t relent. He never does, when he’s in a mood. You have to just give him what he wants.

“He couldn’t make me feel this good, Carm. It’s all for you, only you.”

“Good girl. Knew you could do it.”

With that, he speeds up his fingers, his other arm snaking around your back to keep you standing upright.

“Give it to me, baby. Know you want to. That’s it, atta girl.”

“Come for me, there we go. Can feel you.”

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl. So pretty like this.”

You fall over the edge, clenching like a vice around his fingers as you throw your head back. There’s a sheen of sweat coating your skin, chest heaving with every breath you take. Your vision goes white for a second, gripping onto Carmy’s biceps for dear life.

You rest your forehead against his chest, panting as you try to recover.

“Jealous Carmen is kinda mean,” you mumble into his shirt.

He laughs, wrapping his arms around you.

“You know I didn’t mean it, right? You’re free to date whoever you want. You could do a lot worse than Daniel the hot supermodel.”

You pull back, looking at him carefully.

“I know. I just… I don’t know if I’ll go. Seems a bit unfair to date him when my mind is on someone else.”

You both know exactly who you mean. You both also know that tipsy on a rooftop is not the place to have that conversation.

“Did you ever master the lavender crème brûlée?”

He chuckles, not expecting the sudden change in subject.

“Yes, I did.”

“Do we have any left?”

“We don’t. But I did make chocolate soufflé this afternoon, if that’ll satisfy your sweet tooth.”

“Fuck, yes,” you grin, leaning in to kiss him tenderly.

“I’ll make you a crème brûlée in work tomorrow. Promise.”

“Will you make two extras?”

He quirks a brow in confusion, so you continue.

“We’ve got two elderly neighbours. They’re not very mobile, so I said we’d drop stuff off every now and again.”

He smiles at you, all soft and melted.

“Of course. That heart of yours is too big for your chest, you know.”

You take hold of his hand, placing it there.

“Only sometimes.”

He kisses you again before throwing an arm over your shoulders.

“Let’s go eat chocolate soufflés and drink the rest of that wine you bought.”

“You’re a mind reader,” you laugh, making your way downstairs.

Maybe he is, you think later. You don’t mind in the slightest.

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arminsumi · 7 months

Text

baby came home— 五条

note: nothing just comfort fluff about satoru coming home to you because i feel the need to apologize in some way for that soul-crushing angst lol

warnings — beware of spoilers for manga !! , not proofread, blood and hugging / kissing though he's bloody, scars mention, he cries, implied dating, "baby"

curled up in bed, muttering "come home, baby, it's cold without you." into his pillow. you feel sick with worry.

but you're trying to soothe your worries by inhaling his scent, sleeping in his bed, and wearing the shirt he bought in okinawa, the oversized one that he used to say looked so cute on you when you woke up bleary-eyed and brushed your teeth with him.

you fall asleep, numbed by all those shed tears full of hopelessness.

and in your sleep, while you breathe gently and clutch his pillow, the front door clicks open. a soft thumping of footsteps sounds down the hall.

he peers into his room, and finding you there brings so much comfort to his soul. he stands at the doorframe and stares for a while. just because.

all bloodied and beaten up like a soldier that just came off the frontlines, his feet wander over to you even though he planned to wash off the blood before touching you.

" 'toruuu ? " you mumble half-asleep, half stirring at a familiar touch. his heart flutters at the way you just know it's him without even seeing or hearing.

that's how much you love me, huh?

" angel. i'm home. "

you look at him through bleary, stinging eyes. plush lips kiss underneath. the scent of blood isn't disturbing, though it's pungent and filling your lungs — it's satoru's blood, why should you feel creeped out by it?

it's too dark to see all the scars that he collected through the battle.

" thank you for listening to me and staying here. " he mutters, kissing your lips without thinking.

" missed you, come here. "

" i'm all bloody, i'll go clean up first. . . "

" i don't care. come here, come here, satoru. "

that itself makes tears start glitter on his waterline.

" baby, " he chokes up, becoming completely weak as your arms wrap around him. " i missed you so b—ad it hurt. the idea of never being in these arms again hurt more than a—ny w-wound — fuck, hold me tighter. please. don't let go. " his voice breaks terribly, and he begins to cry like you've never heard him cry before.

he feels safe right here, cooped up in your arms. it's always been comical how much bigger he was than you, and yet he curled up like a cat against your body since he was a lanky teenager and even now when he's a big beefy boy.

when he feels you beginning to play with his hair and pull him undercovers, he melts into a tired slumber. it feels like he's never slept in his life. but now that he's back in your arms, he's sure he's going to get the most fulfilling rest of his life.

nothing can hurt the two of you anymore. he's fulfilled his duty as the strongest and gotten rid of the king of curses. now he's home, and he can happily become weak in your loving arms.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

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randomshyperson · 7 months

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Party Monster - Wanda Maximoff Kinktober #01

Summary: A Halloween party takes an interesting turn when Wanda reunites with her ex-girlfriend. Maybe she'll learn a lesson or two, or maybe she'll still be terrible at following orders.

Warnings: (+18), Dom!Reader with Brat!Wanda, ex-girlfriends who are not over each other at all, really rough smut with teasing and orgasm denial, a lot of cursing, power dynamics, toxic behavior, unhealthy relationship (implied), the “cheating vs we are on a break” dilemma, mentions of a party atmosphere but no explicit alcohol consumption mentioned, Ghostface mask during smut scene ‘cause I’m a simp for Amber Freeman. | Words: 2.688k

A/N- Someone needs to get slasher movies away from me, but I thought this would be a good theme for kinktober. And we started with dom!Reader too because it’s a tradition. Good reading by the way, your horny people.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

It was definitely a bad idea.

Terrible, poorly thought-out, and reckless.

But Wanda finished putting the costume together and the final touch - the black gloves - made her take a deep breath, trying to gain a little confidence in her Halloween costume.

In the bedroom mirror, there was still a photograph that she knew she should have taken from there to at least fool herself that she could move on, but just as she had done dozens of times before, Wanda adjusted the item to prevent it from falling.

Your smiling figure stares back at her, and Wanda sighs softly, ready to party.

She crossed the campus in half an hour, alone because the girls went ahead and honestly, Wanda wasn't that close to her friends nowadays. Not since the break-up anyway.

"Hey, Wanda!" The male voice shouting her name startles her for a moment. But she forces a smile as she is enveloped in a strong hug, Steve Rogers entering her field of vision in the next second. He looked drunk when she got a closer look. "Glad you could make it."

The forced smile begins to bother her face, so Wanda stops, swallowing dryly and trying not to look so uncomfortable.

"Yeah, thanks." She mumbles awkwardly, nodding towards the open door, where the party seems even fuller and livelier. "Stark sure knows how to throw a party."

Steve laughs. "That he does." He says, looking ready to start small talk. Usually, he's as out of place as Wanda in crowded environments, but now he's got enough alcohol in his system to seem cool compared to the rest of the team's jocks, who stand out at parties with their eyes closed. "The guys are inside, come say hi and we can get you something to drink."

The non-existent details of the exact people who constituted the " guys " Steve was referring to made Wanda's stomach turn. But the blond had already grabbed her hand and was pulling her into the crowd, and frankly, Wanda wasn't going to make a scene.

She could handle the possibility of you being at the party, even if she hadn't seen you for four weeks. And three days, nineteen hours, and according to the clock by the beers, fifteen minutes.

"Guys, look who showed up!" Steve announces to the group at the ping pong tables. Wanda remembers the first year when you first visited the fraternity house and you made a joke about the number of expensive objects in the place, and she laughed even though she didn't really get the joke. God, she was so whipped back then.

The whole group looks at them at once. Wanda almost giggles at the scene, all the creative costumes are a sight to behold. Natasha in leather outfits similar to her sister's, or Tony in some kind of colorful armor. Thor dressed as the god after whom he was named, and Clint as a green archer.

And then there was you, with a ghostface mask around your neck so you could get to taste your drink.

You almost choke on the liquid when you meet Wanda's gaze, and she could consider it a personal victory. At least you looked as affected as she was.

It's obvious that the atmosphere gets heavy. Everyone there knows that you two broke up and that it wasn't a pretty thing. Or easy.

And maybe that's why Yelena hides a tense laugh behind her glass of drink and Natasha rushes over to greet Wanda and put an end to the scene.

The only person Wanda really wants to greet tonight puts her mask back on. You drop the glass and leave without saying anything, making the mood even worse.

Natasha clears her throat and strokes Wanda's arm gently. "Don't mind her, I, we, are happy to see you, sweetheart. I'll talk to her, enjoy the party."

It's sweet of Natasha to worry, but as the night goes on and you don't exchange a word, and you keep ignoring her, Wanda doesn't feel a bit better.

She tries to have a good time, but her gaze keeps seeking out your figure, which manages to evade her curiosity masterfully.

You disappear for a good few minutes after beer-pong, and Wanda begins to consider leaving. So she dismisses Bucky Barnes' story about a mess with the rival team and decides to be miserable in her bed instead of at a party full of strangers.

She turns into the corridor and there's a Ghostface cornering a pretty girl at the bottom of the stairs.

Anger blooms and dominates her actions before she can think about it. She lunges forward and grabs the figure by the cap of the costume, hard enough to almost knock the couple over.

The male's shout makes her wince.

"Are you fucking mental?" Complains the stranger in confusion and indignation.

"I-I, shit, I thought it was someone else" She stammers with wide eyes, walking backward, away from the confused couple.

The scene attracts the attention of a few people around, but she feels her back hit somebody and before she can turn around, two hands come around her waist and push her away from the angry guy.

Wanda blinks, and you shove him away harshly. "Back the fuck off, motherfucker."

The man snorts indignantly. By now, half the party is staring at the scene. "What the hell? She started it."

"And I'm finishing, fuck off." You cut him off coldly, and you probably wear that costume better than he does, because the guy hesitates and turns away to grab the girl's hand behind him, leaving without saying another word.

You turn your masked face to Wanda, and she feels hers burning with shame. All you do is shake your head in disbelief and take the hard way upstairs.

Wanda follows you without thinking about it.

She stops the bedroom door from closing with her hand and ignores your protest.

"I'm sorry-"

"I don't want to talk to you." You cut her off, holding up a finger. "I don't even want to look at you, Maximoff. Get the fuck out." You advance but Wanda is quicker. She closes the door behind her, and you end up pressing her into the wood by the arms.

You sigh heavily, as affected as she is.

"I thought it was you." She confesses in a shaky whisper, her hands trapped behind the body you kept squeezing. "I don't know what I'd do if I saw you with someone else."

You chuckle dryly, taking a step back. "Apparently you'd try to throw me to the ground."

Your attempt to pull away completely is interrupted - Wanda grabs your wrists, trying to get you to wrap your arms around her again. It becomes a struggle of pushing and impatient grunting. Until Wanda is forced against the bed, and her apologies break down into a dirty moan.

Your hand around her neck - in an attempt to get her to shut up and stop repeating what you don't want to hear - has a very different effect.

You're on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with your own body. Wanda thinks you can feel how wet she is against your thigh.

"Don't make a fucking sound. I don't want to hear you, understand?" You warn, the loosest grip on her throat to allow her to breathe. Wanda nods obediently and has to bite her lip hard when you pull up her skirt, only to grope for her panties.

Silence is an impossible task, especially when your fingers, so eager and familiar, thrust into her without warning. She squirms, throbbing in your fingerprints, and the sigh of pleasure is yours.

"Fuck, I've missed your pussy." You pant, fucking her carelessly, hard, and deep. The sound of Wanda's soaked arousal makes her ears burn - but she doesn't mind. She's busy trying to keep still, even when you're driving her over the edge so quickly. You notice, of course, and pull out as soon as she's ready to let go, and Wanda breaks into a loud whimper, her hips thrusting restlessly into the air.

You let go of her throat to grab her cheeks. "You're not going to come, Wanda. You don't deserve it. And you know why, don't you?"

Her pussy is throbbing, enough to be almost painful, knocking her out of orbit. All she can do is whimper, nodding; you let out a wicked chuckle. "And why don't you deserve it, darling?"

Of course, you'd make her admit it. Because everything so far hasn't been hell enough. Wanda turns her face away, and with her silence, a slap hits her pussy. She spasms, moaning loudly, her back arched in the mattress.

She almost came in one go. Holding onto the edge at the last second.

"Oh god please." She whimpers shamelessly, and you grunt, watching the wetness ooze down her thighs, her pussy clenching against the emptiness in front of you. Wanda wants to come so badly that you almost feel sorry for her. "Just... one time. I'll do whatever you want."

You chuckle, and spread her legs a lit more to fit your body, pressing her against the bed. The friction between your joined hips makes her groan, trying to grind up onto you, but you remain firm, holding her still.

"Tell me." You demand. "Why aren't you allowed to come?"

She shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "I... I can't."

You sigh impatiently and walk away at once. Wanda almost cries at the lack of contact.

"Get out of my room."

"N-no, please-"

"Then say it!"

Despite her shame, Wanda swallows her tears. "I fucked up."

You chuckle coldly, busy opening a drawer. "Clarify it." You command, and Wanda only obeys because she knows very well what's in the last drawer of your bedside table, she can feel herself clenching for the feeling. With a dry throat, and looking brazenly at what you're wrapping around your waist, she retorts: "I fucked someone else." She murmurs, biting her lip when the hardness is properly fitted. You laugh dryly.

"Hm, and why did you do that?"

Wanda spreads out on the bed, a bait. You don't fall for it. She pants in anticipation. "I wanted to get a reaction out of you. We're on a break. I wanted you to regret it."

Your hand begins to slowly masturbate the dildo and Wanda lets out a shuddering breath, becoming even more aroused by the image.

“I’m the one who will make you regret it.” It is your final clarification. But Wanda gasps.

"Take your mask off, I want to look at you."

But you chuckle again, darkly enough for Wanda to shudder. "What you want doesn't matter to me anymore." You retort, and Wanda has no room for hurt now, the lust and longing for the feel of your body on hers taking over all her senses. "Get on all fours, you’re gonna watch yourself."

Wanda moves on trembling limbs, her face burning. She tries to ignore the mirror in the corner of the room, but as soon as you're behind her, your hand grabs her hair and forces her head up.

The Ghostface mask stares back at her. "You're going to watch me fuck your needy pussy and you're not going to cum, Wanda. No matter how much you want it, how much you beg for it." You warn sternly, your free hand adjusting the toy at her entrance. "Because petty, selfish girls who ruin a three-year fucking relationship don't deserve to come, do they?"

She shakes her head, at this point, she thinks she'll agree to anything you say. And you must understand that pleasure has gotten the better of her because you start masturbating her entrance with the tip of the fake cock and it's enough for her knees to give way. She whines in a plea.

"Please-"

You sink into her at once, filling her to the brim and Wanda moans throatily, her hands clutching the sheets. The last time you were this deep, playing power games, Wanda squirted on the new sheets, and she's not sure that after going a month without touching you, she can stop it from happening again. "God."

You chuckle hoarsely, seeming to have the best time in the world with this. You pull out of her only to enter again, slow enough for Wanda to let out a sob. "Hold it."

"I-I can't." She cries out, choking on her own breath, and instead of taking pity, you sink in again, picking up a rough pace. Wanda would have fallen onto the mattress, but you grab her hair again and force her to watch what's happening.

"Look how beautiful you are when you're being properly fucked." You tease, your hips never failing against her. Wanda can only moan in return, each second more impossible to stop the knot in her belly from bursting. "I know no one makes you this wet, Wanda. No one knows your body like I do." To prove a point, your hand slips between her legs, and eager fingers flick her neglected clit exactly in the way that makes her squeal to the ceiling.

Thank God for the loud sound of Tony Stark's parties.

Wanda is sure she's going to cum by now, and you can tell because you've been through this hundreds of times, and you know her body like the back of your hand. The fake cock slides out the second she's ready to let it go, and Wanda collapses flaccidly onto the bed with the lack of your hands while unable to hold back her tears.

"Fuck you, I hate you, I fucking hate you, you bitch." She babbled breathlessly, the frustration of her second stolen orgasm of the night making her groggy. You chuckle as she squirms on the bed, hugging her own body, and Wanda doesn't even notice that you've moved away just to lock the door.

Wanda is still trying to catch her breath when you remove the mask in one pull and kneel in front of her on the bed, between her legs which you pull open.

You don't give her a chance to prepare, you move in and start eagerly fucking her pussy, ignoring how Wanda writhes on the bed and muffles her moans in the mattress.

"Oh my god." She meows, her knuckles clutching the sheets, and the only thing stopping her thighs from closing against your head are your hands holding her tight. "I c-can't hold it, detka! 'can't-"

You stop again, and Wanda thinks she might kill you. This time, you sigh into her. "Hold it, or I swear to God I'll switch to another college."

Wanda is forced to chuckle at that. It's stilted and hoarse, and she knows there's a grain of truth in your words, but she does it anyway. Even more annoyed, you stand up.

She despairs but is giggling nervously. "No, wait, babe, I'll behave, I promise."

It's your turn to chuckle, in disbelief at the scene. Wanda clung to you as if your departure was the worst thing in the world.

"You're a lying brat, Wanda." You say, and despite the harsh words, your hand gently strokes her hair. Wanda sighs shakily, the redness in her cheeks showing how much she enjoyed the words. You push her hands away and take two steps back. Far enough, you quickly untie the item from around your waist. "I'm going back to the party. And if you want to cum tonight, you'll stay here. Waiting like a good girl."

She opens her mouth to protest, but you hold up a finger in warning, and the seriousness in your gaze is enough for her to know that if she disobeys now, you'll send her away.

Swallowing dryly, she lets you go, and when the door closes, she throws herself back on the mattress.

Her body’s on fire, and the traces of your shampoo on the pillow don't help. She moans low, adjusting to touch herself.

Maybe, just maybe, you won't mind if she comes while looking at your picture on the bedside table.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff oneshots #kinktober 2023 #wanda maximoff #marvel imagines #elizabeth olsen x reader

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notbadforafailedvessel · 1 month

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Alcina x sick!Reader

Inspired by @willalove75's post ─ Reader is sick and seeks comfort in Alcina.

GIF Credit

Pathetic.

That's how you felt and surely how you looked. Walking through the halls of Castle Dimitrescu wearing your sleepwear and a blanket wrapped around you that only left your head exposed, surely didn't help your case.

You whined when your runny nose itched, your eyes watering, causing you to rub it in a failed attempt to comfort your nuisance.

You felt terrible, and you were sure you had a fever, since you were cold but sweating. Part of you blamed that as the reason why you were heading towards Alcina's office during her working hours, when you wouldn't have dared in other circumstances.

Of course you had been sick before since the Castle became your home and your Lady's bedroom yours too, but during those previous times, even when you wished to have Alcina next to you all day, you managed to deal with the fact it wasn't possible, reveling even more in the breaks she took during the day to check on you.

But this time, you were needy for her presence and attention, so desperate that your common sense was completely clouded. Nevertheless, you had the mind to knock on the door first, waiting for her permission to enter.

Alcina lifted her head when you closed the door behind you, amusement in her expression as her eyes moved over your peculiar outfit. But in the next second, when your eyes locked, she raised an eyebrow questioningly, pursing her lips at the interruption.

You opened your mouth to explain yourself, but a harsh sneeze stopped you from doing it, your eyes immediately tearing up due to the itching of your nose. You hugged yourself, wrapping the blanket tighter.

"Oh, draga..." She softened her expression in understanding.

In silence, you hurried to her, stretching your arms out once you reached her, pouting slightly to make yourself look pitiful, hoping that was enough to not being denied what you want.

Alcina narrowed her eyes at you without moving an inch, which caused to deepen your pout, furrowing your eyebrows sadly.

"Oh, for the love of-" Alcina huffed, rolling her eyes at the time she leaned forward to pick you up.

You smiled, tiredly but victorious, as you straddled her lap, sighing contently when you nuzzled into her neck, wrapping your arms around it.

Alcina chuckled softly, shaking her head and kissing you on your forehead, one of her hands stroking your back comfortingly, while with the other one she hugged you closer to her. "What on earth have you done to me, my little mortal?"

One of your hands slid down her neck to her jaw, which you traced lovingly. "I love you too," you said hoarsely. You cleared your throat, even though you knew it wouldn't change anything.

"You feel terribly bad, iubi?" she asked troubled, sighing deeply when you nodded. "I'm sure some of Donna's concoctions will help you feel better."

"Later," you muttered, shifting in her arms, attempting to get closer to her even when there wasn't any space between you two. "I want to be with you." Her cold skin felt heavenly against your warmth one.

"Draga mea... as much as I wish I could go with you, I have a heavy workload to do that sadly can't postpone."

You could've cried. Despite you could hear the regret in Alcina's voice, it was the determination in her decision what affected you the most. You loathed how vulnerable you became when you were sick.

It was tempting to beg her, and in your current state, you would have done it without contemplating the consequences, but Alcina spoke before you could do so.

"However, if you promise to behave, rest and sleep, you can stay with me."

You pulled back slightly to look at her, finding a solemn expression in those features that mesmerize you every time you looked at her.

You were unsure to what exactly she meant, resting on the office couch while she kept working? Nevertheless, you nodded eagerly, cursing yourself as you were reminded of your headache. In the end it didn't matter, you would be close to her and be able to see her, somewhat satisfying your need for her.

Alcina smiled pleased once you agreed to her conditions, and to your surprise, instead of encourage you to stand up to move to the couch, she helped you to sit sideways on her lap, wrapping her left arm around you as support and adjusting the blanket over you with the other hand.

"Comfortable, iubi?" she wondered, reaching to take the discarded pen on the desk once she was done with the task, her gaze returning to the waiting papers.

Slowly resting your head on her breast, you looked up at her with adoration. It didn't matter how many times you have experienced her thoughtfulness, it would never fail to make your heart skip a beat with happiness, knowing you were the only lucky mortal who knew this side of her. The only mortal she loved.

She looked down at you when you didn't answer, her concern quickly vanishing as she narrowed her eyes when you made eye contact, disgruntled by the pointless interruption.

"Impossible to feel better," you hurried to answer sincerely, making her chuckle.

"Rest now then. I refuse to be delayed even more this day," she warned you, but there was a trace of tenderness in her tone.

You nodded, softly this time, closing your eyes with the intention to fall asleep and not risk losing what had been offered to you.

Her cold skin helping to soothe any physical discomfort made you sigh gratefully; her presence making easier to feel in better spirits and not completely dramatic, making you wonder when Death would come for you.

Yawning, you wrapped an arm around her, clenching her dress with your hand. You didn't believe she would get rid of you the moment you were asleep, but you still wanted to have a way to avoid the disappointment of waking up without her at your side.

During the last moment of consciousness, you smiled when she nuzzled your hair to then press a few kisses on your head, taking her time before going back to her work. And you wondered if you would dare to ask her if her purring was another reassuring gesture on your behalf, or if she just enjoyed this as much as you did.

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #resident evil 8 #hd.txt #hdad.txt #txt: ad

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darknight3904 · 2 months

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Through the Years

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ᴀ ɢʟɪᴍᴘꜱᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ɢᴏᴊᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴜʀꜱɪɴɢ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ/ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ (ɴᴏ ꜱᴇx) ɴᴀᴏʏᴀ ᴢᴇɴɪɴ (ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ɢʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴇᴅꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ)

ɪ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ɪɴ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ʙᴀʙʏ. ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ᴢᴇɴɪɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ᴏᴠᴇʀ 5ᴋ (ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴇʏᴇᴅ ᴋɪɴɢ)

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

December 7, 2005 (Gojo: 16 You: 15)

"You know you're practically a senior citizen now."

Gojo's head whips around, insulted at the idea of being called old. Sure he's got white hair but he's just turned 16, not 61.

"You're only a year younger than me, y'know. You'll be 16 soon too." He grins

Gojo grins as you roll your eyes next to him.

"At least I don't have white hair already." You point out

"Whatever, at least I'm not two inches tall." Gojo laughs, resting an elbow on your head.

"I'm still growing!" You defend, angry at the idea of staying the same height forever. "Get your ugly arm off me!"

"I'll have you know my arm is gorgeous," Gojo says, blue eyes catching the sunlight as he easily matches your pace.

"Mmhmm." You roll your eyes

To keep it simple, Satoru Gojo got under your skin. Perhaps it was that annoying smile or maybe the fact that your clan notoriously hated his. All you knew was that he drove you insane and you wished he'd just disappear so he could never bother you again.

"Where is everyone? I thought we agreed to meet here at 4," Gojo whined next to you.

"Worried your boyfriend stood you up?" You tease. thinking of the dark-haired boy who was usually joined to Gojo's hip most days.

"Suguru would never do that to me." Gojo smiles, unwrapping a lollipop he had stuffed in his pocket.

"I dunno, what if he finally got sick of you, Gojo?" You say, knowing it was impossible.

A soft ding interrupts your conversation with the boy and Gojo fishes his phone out of his pocket.

"HA! Told you he'd never stand me up!"

Gojo's phone is obnoxiously close to your face as he prompts you to read his chat with Geto.

On our way. Nanami needed to be convinced.

Another ding sounds and a picture of your fellow first years pops up Haibara is dragging Nanami down the sidewalk by his arms.

"Idiots." You murmur

"I see that smile! You got a crush on Nanamin?" Gojo's voice fills your ears as his pointer finger pokes at your face

"Piss off, Gojo." You groan "I hope one of Geto's curses eat you."

April 2006 (Gojo: 16 You: 15)

"You totally just cheated!" You accuse the blonde across from you

"Have you considered that you're just terrible at Jenga?" Nanami asked

"Have you considered that you just moved the table during my turn so you'd win and not me!" You groan

"It's just Jenga, Zenin. We can just start over." Haibara points out

"Not with a cheater playing." You roll your eyes

Haibara smiles as he begins to pick up the fallen blocks from the floor. You had been on edge for a few days now and your temper was beginning to get a bit out of hand. He had asked Nanami what he thought was the matter and the two of them had come to the conclusion that it had to do with your visit with the head of the Zenin clan.

"That's enough for today. I'm going to take a nap." Nanami declares

"Ugh, what a party pooper." Haibara teases, elbowing you.

"In case you forgot, Zenin here did me the favor of hitting me hard enough that I nearly passed out today in training." Nanami reminds the two of you.

Ah right, that. You had gone a bit too hard today sparring with Nanami.

"Oh, I forgot about that," Haibara says

"Yes. You should let Zenin get some rest. Her technique is draining, she's said so herself.

Sure, Phantom wasn't exactly easy to pull off but you wanted to keep playing. You wanted to kick Nanami's ass in Jenga.

"Alright. Let's eat dinner together tonight though. I have these awesome cookies in my room you'll both like." Haibara declares before following Nanami out of your room.

Perhaps Nanami was correct, a nap did sound enjoyable right now. A quick nap and then maybe you'd cook something to share with the boys tonight. Perhaps a couple of rice balls or maybe some chicken.

No sooner had you gotten comfortable under your blankets that your door swung open and Gojo was running into your room, Geto close on his heels.

"Satoru, you should always knock on a girl's door before barging in." Geto scolds his friend for you.

"It's fine, Suguru. It's not like she's getting changed or anything." Gojo grins looking down at you who had remained buried under your covers.

"And what if I was?" You scowl from your blankets

"I would've screamed in horror and asked Suguru to exorcise you." Gojo says flashing that oddly charming smile of his.

You're sure he could get away with murder if he just flashed those pearly whites.

You ignore the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as you sit up.

"I was about to take a nap but I guess it can wait." You say

"A nap? What are you four?" Gojo teases

"Yeah probably." You agree

"Not everyone is as energetic as you are Satoru." Geto reminded the white haired boy

"Yeah, what Geto said. Not everyone is a walking ball of energy." You say

Geto had always been your favorite of Jujutsu High's strongest duo. He didn't call you short or try to steal your food. Or maybe it was his long hair that seemed to always look better than yours.

Plus then there was that time Gojo snuck into your room to try and shave your eyebrows off. Sometimes you swore the elders of the Gojo clan were sending the six eyes user after you on purpose.

"Whatever, loser." Gojo said trying to reach and mess up your hair.

"Would you stop that! I'm not a child!" You groan

"Then why're you the size of one?" Gojo laughs

Even Geto laughed at that one as you shove Gojo out of the way.

"Why are you two even here? Can't you go bother Shoko for once?" You ask

"Shoko said you've been in a bad mood the past few days." Geto started

"So we've come to cheer you up!" Gojo finished

You watched wide-eyed as Gojo dumped the bag he was holding onto your bed. Every possible sweet fell out accompanied by different DVDs.

"For the record, I told him it was too much candy but he didn't listen," Geto says as Gojo riffles through the movie choices.

One DVD case catches your eye as Gojo argues with Geto about his sugar choices.

"Are you a Rachel McAdams fan, Gojo?" You ask as you hold up Mean Girls.

"Duh." Gojo grins before swiping the case from your hand to pop it into the player you had

"Raise your hand if you have ever been personally victimized by Regina George."

"Y'know you're kinda like Regina, Satoru," Geto says observing the movie.

"Am not." Gojo rolls his eyes sipping at his soda

"Sure you are." Geto smiles

"Yeah right." Gojo scoffs "Whaddaya think, Zenin?"

Gojo looked at you for an answer but was met with you asleep next to him, head resting on one of those massive stuffed animals you kept. You're drooling a bit and he can't help but think that you're a bit cute like this.

He reaches to shake you awake, determined to get your opinion on whether or not he is like a spoiled teenage girl.

"Let her rest. I heard that her and the other first years went pretty hard today training. Nanami took a big blow to the head from her using her technique." Geto stopped his best friend

"I wish she'd show me her technique. She explained it to me once but I still don't get it." Gojo huffed

"I'm pretty sure Phantom just multiplies her and then she closes the distance with her real body. I watched her use it on Haibara a few months ago." Geto explains

"Whatever...I still want to see it with my own eyes." Gojo declared

The TV hummed softly as they sat in silence while Regina George got hit by a bus after rushing out of her school.

"Why do you think she's been in such a bad mood recently? I heard her yelling about Jenga earlier." Geto asked

"I'm not entirely sure but I think it probably has to do with Nabito Zenin." Gojo said "His archaic way of doing things is probably upsetting her. I heard that she had some meeting with him recently."

Geto lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment.

"Nabito is probably trying to stick her in some arranged marriage. I wouldn't be surprised if it was with his own brat, Naoya." Gojo elaborates

"You know a lot about the Zenin Clan, Satoru," Geto points out

"Well the last Six Eyes and Infinity user was killed by one of them, so I think I'm entitled to a little knowledge. " Gojo defends

"Yeah, yeah. Maybe you should try to be a little nicer to her though, especially if you know what might be going on with her clan." Geto suggests

"I'm perfectly nice." He defends

"Yesterday you said you were going to shave her head in her sleep because she ate one of your french fries."

"I was joking!"

November 2006 (Gojo: 16 You: 16)

"Happy Birthday, Zenin!" Haibara called "Have fun with your family!"

You smiled and waved at Haibara and Nanami as you got into the car that had been sent to pick you up.

Fun. This trip would be anything but fun.

Snow was falling as you entered your childhood home. The soft scent of lavender filled your nose and calmed your nerves.

"You're back! I'm still cooking!" Your mother exclaimed as she emerged from the kitchen

"Yeah, there wasn't much traffic." You reply, trying to release yourself from her bone-crushing hug. Seriously with her strength, she'd probably be able to exercise curses.

"Go wash up. Your father will be back soon and he is bringing Nabito-san and his son." Your mother says

Dinner is quiet. Or rather you're quiet next to your mother while Nabito and your father discuss something about cursed techniques and something about Toji Zenin's kid.

"Your face is plain." the boy across from you suddenly says

Your mother momentarily freezes but quickly regains her composure.

"Yes well, sometimes plain features are best. Just think you wouldn't want every man looking at your wife." Your mother says

Did she just agree to you being plain featured? You looked like her for crying out loud!

"Whatever," Naoya mumbled before shoving more rice into his mouth.

What a pig.

You're not entirely sure why it's happening. Perhaps it was the dinner with Naoya that had your brain going crazy. But ever since you got back from your parents' home you can't stop staring at Gojo. Was it because he represented everything your clan hated? Or maybe it was because he was insufferably annoying? Whatever the reason, you swore he was drawing you in.

"You should stop staring. You might put a hole in his head." Shoko says

"I wasn't-"

"Don't lie to me." Shoko smiles knowingly

You definitely weren't staring at Satoru Gojo. Nope. Not in a million years. And you definitely didn't get butterflies whenever he looked your way. That would be ridiculously, ridiculous.

August 2007 (Gojo: 17 You: 16)

"I don't get why I wasn't assigned with you two. I mean we're always going on missions together." You grumble

"They probably need you to help Gojo train more. Your technique is perfect for him to strengthen his Six Eyes, Zenin." Haibara points out

"It's just a grade two. We'll be back before sundown." Nanami assures

"Yeah, then we can watch a movie and get fat off popcorn," Haibara says

"I'm choosing tonight. I don't want to watch another Pirates of the Caribbean movie." Nanami declares

"But Jack Sparrow is so sexy!" You groan

Haibara laughs in agreement with you.

"See you later, Zenin! I can't wait to bully Nanami into watching Pirates of the Caribbean with you tonight!" Haibara declares

See you later, Zenin!

See you later.

You should've gotten into that damn car with them. Your technique was better than both of theirs. Maybe if you had...just maybe you wouldn't be staring down at half of your friend.

Geto was next to you, looking down at his body, He was silent, long hair blocking his face from you.

Nanami sat behind you, a damp cloth over his eyes.

"You need to rest for now, Nanami," Geto suggests, his soft voice filling the silence.

"Damn it. I should've gone with you two." You say, your voice dripping in regret.

"You could've gotten killed too, Zenin." Nanami sighs, his voice is tight like he's holding back tears.

A soft summer breeze blows through your hair as you sit on a bench. You had left Geto and Nanami with Haibara, not wanting to see the bloody sheet he was under anymore.

"Hey."

You glance up from where you had been picking at your nails, willing yourself to hold it together.

Gojo stood over you, hand stretched out with a piece of candy in it.

"I heard what happened." He said sitting next to you as you unwrapped the candy and popped it in your mouth.

"You wanna talk about it?" Gojo asked

"Not really." You sighed

"You don't seem too sad," Gojo said quietly

"I think I will be...later on. Once I'm alone." You say

"Yeah, me too." He replied.

Silence enveloped the two of you as you focused on the taste of the candy in your mouth.

"I gave you the green apple. It's my least favorite." Gojo said

"Thanks." You reply

September 2007 (Gojo: 17 You: 16)

In accordance with Jujutsu regulations, Geto Suguru is sentenced to death.

For once in his life Gojo Satoru is not buzzing around you like an excited puppy. You can see him, sitting alone on the steps of Jujutsu High.

The deaths of 112 people including his own parents rests on Geto's hands. You couldn't believe it when Nanami read the report to you. But now, seeing Gojo alone confirmed it.

You don't know what you're going to say to Gojo as you approach him. What do you say to the person who's just lost their best friend to a life of being a curse user?

"I know you're lurking back there," Gojo says

Damn it.

"I wanted to give you this." You mumble tossing him a lollipop before sitting next to him, probably a bit too close for someone who swore you weren't interested in him.

Gojo softly smiles and accepts the candy.

"Did he say what he wants to do next?" You ask

"He wants to exterminate all non-sorcerers from the world," Gojo says

An unattainable goal.

"That's impossible." You say

"That won't stop him." Gojo points out

A soft weight taps you and the sweet scent of Satoru Gojo's shampoo fills your nose as he rests his head on your shoulder.

"I'm sure you'll see him again. Even if it's not for a long time, you'll talk to each other again." You assure him.

"Yeah, I hope so," Gojo admits

His voice is a whisper in the breeze, a prayer for the future.

Christmas 2009 (Gojo: 20 You: 19)

"You have to stay quiet, Gojo!" You groan looking at your friend next to you

"This costume is so itchy though! The beard is gonna make my skin all red!" He whines

"Suck it up." You command

Gojo lets out another groan but helps you finish arranging the copious amounts of gifts he had ended up buying for Megumi and Tsumiki.

"Alright, it's perfect. Now go stand next to the tree."

Gojo listens to you and lets out a huff of embarrassment when you snap his picture.

"That better be for your eyes only." He says

"Oh definitely don't worry about it." You brush him off before quickly sending the picture off to Nanami and Shoko. They're sure to get a kick out of it.

"Remind me why I asked you to help with these brats again," Gojo says as he notices you sending his picture.

"Cuz' these brats would be dead if you were the only one watching them, Gojo." You say

"I'm a great caregiver." He says

"You wanted to get Megumi a pink tutu for Christmas." You say

"He would've looked great!" Gojo defends

"He would've set his Demon Dogs after you." You say

"Would not."

"Would too."

"Would not!'

"Would too!"

"What's going on?"

You and Gojo stop your bickering to see sleepy-eyed children hovering on the steps, dark hair out of place and a frizzy mess atop their little heads.

"Santa and I were just arguing about what cookie is best!" You grin

"That's not Santa. That's Gojo in that costume you ordered off Amazon last week." Megumi points out. "I saw the order details on your laptop."

Who the hell does this kid think he is?

"What? No! This is the real Santa from the North Pole!" You scramble

"Megumi, just go with it!" Tsumiki whispers to her little brother, "They obviously don't know Santa's not real!"

Is it a crime to toss a child out a window?

"The jig is up!" Gojo declares beside you as he rips off his fake beard. "Now let's get to the real fun stuff! Mistletoe!"

Gojo grabs a sprig of mistletoe from between the couch cushions. Curse him and his hiding spots.

"Pucker up, hot stuff!" Gojo says as he reaches for you and wraps an arm around your waist to pull you close.

"Gross." You say pushing his face away from you, you hope he can't see how red you are.

Why the hell was he like this? The past few months Gojo had been all over you. Be it flirty gestures or just plain Gojo weirdness, he was consuming every bit of you and you weren't sure if it was a bad thing.

"You're blushing," Megumi says

"Aha! I knew you wanted a kiss from me!" Gojo exclaims chasing after you as you try to escape up the stairs.

Seriously, is it a crime to toss a kid out a window?

March 2011 (Gojo: 21 You: 20)

The harsh slam of the front door wakes Gojo from the peace that had taken over the house. Megumi and Tsumiki had gone to bed and he was kicked back on the sofa, face mask on and Harry Potter was running on TV.

"I'm going to seriously kill that asshole one day." You groan as you rummage through the fridge

"I take it the meeting with Naoya didn't go well," Gojo said

"Didn't go well is the understatement of the millennium." You groan sitting down next to him a slice of cold pizza in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

"Tell me about it," Gojo says pulling your feet into his lap.

He listens to you vent about your "fiance" and how annoying he is. Naoya wants you to cut your hair a certain way and to stop wearing the color red. Apparently, you also need to start wearing lipstick now according to the man as well.

"Honestly I hope he gets hit by a bus tomorrow." You groan "And what the hell is wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing. I think it suits you nicely." Gojo smiles, knowing it's true. You're as pretty as a picture even when you're mad at the world.

"Thanks." You sigh "That wasn't the worst of it though"

"Oh? What else did the scumbag say this time?" Gojo asked, genuinely curious

"Well beyond my appearance, he asked if I was still a virgin today." You say

"Are you?"

"Ow!" Gojo yelps as he rubs his arm where you punched him

"Yeah, I am you idiot!" You seethe, placing your wine and half-eaten pizza on the coffee table, "He's only asking cuz' he found out that I'm spending time around you and I guess he's worried about impurity."

"We're just friends," Gojo says "Besides who cares if a girl's slept with someone before? I know I wouldn't."

His words feel like glue in his mouth. Can you tell he wants to be more than friends?

"I know that, and you know that. But he must think I'm whoring myself out to you in exchange for a place to live." You say sadly

Gojo can sense that Naoya's words are under your skin and bouncing around in that pretty head of yours. A head that should only be filled with the happiest of thoughts, preferably ones with him in it.

"Hey, forget about him. It's none of his business what company you keep and what you look like." He assures, reaching his arms out to pull you into his side.

"He's technically my fiance y'know." You sigh as you let him reposition your body so your head rests on his chest. "I'm supposed to want to please him since he's a man."

There's that stupid Zenin clan mindset, that Gojo can't stand.

"Screw that! Pleasing someone just cuz they're a guy is so 200 years ago." He says

"Tell me about it." You groan

"I could just send a hollow purple his way if you want." Gojo suggests, fully serious "Just a small one. It would be the perfect way to get rid of him."

"And what? Start a full-on war between two ancient clans over me?" You laugh

"Of course," Gojo confirms, pulling you closer to him

To him, you're worth starting a thousand wars if it means you'll finally let him be by your side all the time.

"By the way, is that a charcoal mask?" You ask

"Yup. Got it from the mall today, gotta stay hot for the single ladies out there."

"Gojo?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a really weird guy."

December 2011 (Gojo: 22 You: 21)

"We have to stay quiet, 'gumi." The girl reminds her little brother

"What's the point? How do we even know they'll like this?" He asked

"Who wouldn't enjoy breakfast in bed?" Tsumiki asked

She had a point.

"Yeah, but Gojo and Zenin don't even sleep in the same room. So are we surprising them separately?" Megumi asked as he poured orange juice into cups, he didn't think he had the balance to make it up the stairs with a tray of food.

"Nope! I checked Gojo's room before I woke you up. They're in his room together. I think she had a nightmare or something last night." Tsumiki says, "And we're not supposed to call her Zenin, remember? She said we could just use her first name."

"Oh, right," Megumi says

The couple? No, friends? Whatever they were, the two individuals that had taken him and his sister in were odd. Megumi was sure that Gojo was insane or maybe missing a piece of his brain. Just the other day Gojo had dangled him out the window for asking why he owned pink underwear as a 22-year-old. It was a genuine question on Megumi's part. As for you, you were definitely his favorite. You didn't try to dangle him out windows or mess up his hair, and most importantly you didn't constantly ask about his cursed technique.

Gojo was definitely the more annoying out of the two of you. How you put up with him was a mystery to Megumi. Tsumiki had once said that there was a "budding romance" between Gojo and You. Megumi thought she was reading too many of those romance books you bought her. Of course, he understood why she was saying that. You and Gojo were clearly close to each other, not to mention sometimes you even slept in each other's bedrooms. And then of course there's the many times when you're cooking and Gojo would wrap his arms around you from behind.

Alright, fine maybe Tsumiki was right about the romance.

"Alright, they're done. What do you think?" Tsumiki asks as she places two plates of something on the tray that sits in front of him.

"What are they?" He asks

"They're pancakes." Tsumiki blinked at Megumi as though it was obvious

"Right, of course." Megumi didn't want to make her angry, after all the last time they got in a fight Tsumiki pulled his hair so hard he swore he was partly bald in that spot for months.

"Ok lets go. You get the silverware and the drinks." She says

Gojo's bedroom is so dark, that Megumi nearly trips on his own feet as he blindly follows his sister.

Tsumiki carefully set the tray of food on the desk that was covered in various papers and candy wrappers. Why was Gojo such a slob? Tsumiki pulls the curtains open so the morning light can invade the space.

Megumi carefully observes the pair in bed. Gojo's arm is wrapped securely around you and your head rests on his chest. Megumi finds himself wondering if his father and mother were ever like this. Not that it matters since he can't even remember either of them.

"Surprise!" Tsumiki shouts and Gojo's eyes fly open

"Whaaats going on?" You ask groggily

"We made breakfast!" Tsumiki smiles placing the tray in front of the two adults.

"I have orange juice." Megumi mumbles

"Oh wow!" You smile, rubbing at your eyes, and immediately sit up.

"What is it?" Gojo asks, white hair messier than usual.

Megumi knew it wasn't obvious that they were pancakes.

"Pancakes of course!" You smile at them and Megumi doesn't miss how you pinch Gojo and whisper "be nice" to the white-haired man.

"They have blueberries in them," Megumi says

Gojo's face falls at the idea of a breakfast lacking sugar.

"And chocolate chips." Tsumiki chimes in

Gojo's face is all smiles again as he cuts into the food.

"How is it?" His sister eagerly asks

"It's wonderful. Delicious. Thank you, Tsumiki and Megumi." You compliment

A wide smile breaks out across his sister's face and she grabs Megumi by the arm.

"Alright, we'll let you two eat in peace then." She smiles, practically skipping out of the room.

Just before Megumi closes the door, hushed voices reach his ears.

"Can I spit this out now? I don't think it's edible." Gojo asks

"I think mine has some eggshell in it." You reply

Hushed laughter follows and Megumi smiles to himself. Sure, the two of you were crazy but he wouldn't trade it for the world.

February 2012 (Gojo: 22 You: 21)

Gojo was sure he was actually insane. What the hell was he thinking buying this for you?

The ruby red box felt like a lead weight in his pocket as he approached you while you were slicing vegetables for tonight's supper. Maybe he shouldn't do this while you had a knife in your hand. What if you stabbed him? Well, his infinity would catch it, but still.

"Can I uh...talk to you?" He asked, well...no going back now

"Yeah, what's up?" You ask

"Can I talk to you without the knife in your hand?" He asks

"Satoru Gojo what did you do?" You accuse, immediately focusing on you

"Nothing! Why do you assume I did something?!" He cries

"Because the last time you started a sentence with "without the knife in your hand" You had encouraged Megumi to fight his school bully and then you got a call that Megumi punched a girl two years younger than him." You say

Oh right. He forgot about that.

"Alright well, no children were harmed this time. Now put the knife down." He said

You listen and he takes a big breath, he's going to need all the oxygen for this one.

"Look it might be stupid and I know Valentine's Day was last week but I got you something and I wanted to give it to you. I've actually had it since December but I keep chickening out" He explained fishing the box out of his pocket

"If that's an engagement ring I'll get the knife back out." You say eying him suspiciously.

"What? No! That would be crazy." Gojo laughs, he can feel his face burning. Fuck...he must be bright red.

"Alright good." You say taking the box

Gojo fidgets with the string that's sticking out of the sleeve of his shirt as you look at what he's done.

"Do you uh like it?" He asked

"I do. Why'd you get it for me?" You ask

Wasn't it obvious? He'd buy the whole universe for you if he could.

"You really don't have any idea?" He asks

"No...I don't." You say

Your face is relaxed, you're definitely not lying to him. You seriously have no idea that he's totally obsessed with you!

"Are you gonna say it? I still have to cut some carrots up." You sigh

Gojo lets out a noise that's so insane sounding he swears he got possessed by some evil spirit.

"I got it cuz' I thought it'd look great on you!" The words are coming out of his mouth like vomit, " And I really uh...uhm...I like you."

The last bit is so quiet he's sure you didn't hear it.

"Wow did I just get a shoujo romance confession from the Satoru Gojo himself?" You tease as his gaze remains fixed on his feet.

"Whatever. If you don't want it I'll take it back tomorrow." He grumbled

Silence falls over the two of you like a blanket and Gojo wishes he could bury himself alive. Of course, she's making fun of you! She's engaged! She's been engaged since she was 15! One necklace won't change that! Sure, her fiance was a total buttwipe but still...

"Satoru,"

His first name coming from your lips for the first time ever has his gaze snapping back up. He wishes that you'd say his name like that forever.

"I'm only teasing you. I like you too. I have for a while." You admit

"How long is a while?" He prods, suddenly filled with confidence

"None of your business, mister. Are you going to help me put this on?" You gesture to the box

Gojo is as gentle as he can be as he clips the necklace behind your neck.

"How do I look?" You ask

"Perfect." He smiles and pulls you towards him.

"I smell, Satoru. I haven't gotten to shower yet and I exrocsied a curse at a school earlier." You softly say

"Mmm, you smell good to me." Gojo says "You're always absolutely perfect. And now you're all mine."

An elated giggle leaves his body as he finally gets to kiss you for the first time. If only his 17-year-old self could see him now.

"That's disgusting."

You jump away from him and he wishes you hadn't.

"Megumi, how was school?" You ask and Gojo doesn't miss the way you're obviously flustered.

"It was good. Until I came home to see that." He says

"Well get used to it cuz' you'll be seeing a lot more of it." Gojo grins as he pulls you towards him and tosses an arm around your shoulders.

"She's all mine now, little man. You're not allowed to give her a Valentine's Day card ever again!"

"Satoru, stop that!"

"So are you two finally dating?" Tsumiki asked hopefully

"Course' we are. You don't come home to two people sucking face and expect them not to be officially a couple."

Gojo deserves the punch to the stomach you give him before resuming your vegetable cutting.

Next Part

Series Masterlist / My Masterlist

507 notes · View notes

yanderenightmare · 6 months

Note

Meaner callous Gojo with cursed spirit darling pleeease :(

Gojo Satoru

TW: slight NSFW, noncon/dubcon, blood/gore, death of curses, abduction and captivity, mentions of previously maltreated captives and their deaths

gn reader

“Huh? I didn’t see you.” The man with the white hair said casually, holding a drippy head by the scruff of their scalp – having torn it clean off the body that now lay gushing in a pool of its own sticky red insides. Still warm but lifeless.

You’d been hiding amongst the other remains. Your mind struggling to cope with the chaos surrounding you, so lost that the thought of running away hadn’t even had the time to surface yet – having left you wading around in the blood and guts aimlessly – soaked through and through with death and chilled to your own weary brittle bones.

The end was imminent, and you couldn’t wrap any of your thoughts together to either accept or deny it.

He dropped the head in his fist with an unceremonious splash and took long strides – in front of you sooner than you could bat an eye, much less crawl away or decide if you were going to try and fight him off before it was too late – before he had his long fingers curled around your throat, lifting you up off your feet.

“No wonder~” He laughed. “You’re so weak; I couldn’t sense your cursed energy at all~”

He was frivolous while you cacked for air, kicking your feet beneath you, trying to pry his hand from your neck with such weak effort it was pitiful to watch.

And yet he remained unfazed by the pathetic struggle, only offering a slant of his head while eyeing you up and down – his orbs going from a stark neon to a simple sky blue as he released his technique. Holding you up simply with his own sheer strength.

“Hm…” He hummed then, tilting his head to the other side, now with a thoughtful pout on his lips. He brought his other hand up to rub his chin as though he was debating something. “Be a shame to kill you, really…”

You remained gasping for breath as he mused – but only for another short moment until you felt him pause in his squeezing, loosening the chokehold right before your head could squish free from the rest of your body.

“You’ll make such a pretty new trophy.”

He was smiling, but it was far from kind – though he let go of your throat entirely, letting you drop to your hands and knees, spluttering with coughs – staring at your own reflection in the crimson bath beneath you. Able to spot how terribly panicked you looked before you felt him loop an arm around your stomach – lifting you, then beaming the two of you away.

You’re still in shock when you’re dropped to a different floor someplace else only a moment later – and though the marble is much colder than the blood you’d been sitting in prior, it isn’t the reason you’re shaking. Rather, it’s the recurring flashes of fellow curses being leveled like trampled grapes – in the dozens by a single sorcerer who hadn’t even broken a sweat. One who’d bore a smile the entire time.

“Come on now, pretty curse-” The man dismissed, seemingly completely disconnected from the turmoil of your trauma. “Say hie to your new home~”

This time he grabbed you by your tunic, holding it by the neck as he dragged you along further into the room with him until he sat down on a plush sofa there – pulling you into his lap to straddle him.

You didn’t resist – you didn’t do anything – shell-shocked into a plaint stillness while struggling to accept the truth behind all the stickiness that had your skin coated and shivering with growing cold.

His face was also splattered with different shades – some red, some blue, some purple. You wonder what shade yours was with a tremble in your throat as he reached out to thumb your chin, angling it as he got in close with his lips tugged in a grin.

“The last pet I kept ended up dying of hunger. It didn’t behave right, so I had to starve it.” He revealed – bright eyes gleaming – rendering you further scrambled in thought, unable to grasp what he was saying or that he was even talking to you.

You just blinked blankly in return.

“Can you talk? Or are you an even weaker curse than I thought?” He asked then – cocking his head down and sideways – leering up at you with an eerie twinkle that made you tense with a small whimper.

You hiccupped, lip quivering – suddenly reeled back to reality by the bite of his blunt nails digging into the soft flesh of your hips. “Uhm- I…” Your voice was weak in your throat, breaking before it amounted to much more, feeling so thin under his heavy gaze while he peered at you without blinking. “I talk…” was all you were able to squeak out in the end.

“Oh- good. I was afraid you couldn’t understand me. But I see~ you’re just in shock ‘cause I obliterated all your friends.” His smile widened, and you paled even more in light of it.

Swallowing thickly. Now with the numbness of the shock finally dying down, you were allowed to process your fear more entirely – resulting in tears welling and running down your cheeks in quick rivulets – breaths picking up speed until they tripped into each other on their way free.

“Oh- don’t cry~” He chuckled, watching you break down – your swiveled eyes looking at your blood-soaked hands, trembling at the sight.

He ran his hand up from your chin to cup your face, his smile tugged into a toothy smirk – amused by your meltdown – and even happier when your eyes snapped to return his, glistening with fear and the blitz of panic.

“Be a good little curse for me, and I won’t hurt you like I did the others.” He offered suggestively, planting his forehead against yours while getting lost in that beautiful look riddling your face.

Completely relaxed and comfortable – flirty as he rubbed the small of your back almost soothingly, gliding up slowly beneath the fabric of your tunic. He used no pressure – being featherlight with fine fingertips – as though in mockery of how he’d easily reached in and torn hearts out of ribcages only a moment earlier.

You swallowed again. Feeling caged by the serene blue staring back at you.

“How… how do I do that?” You asked him timidly, and he marveled at how human you looked – chewing your bloated lip with such pretty misty eyes peeled at him.

You weren’t much of a curse at all, he thought with another laugh – licking his teeth at how obediently you sat in wait on his lap – more like a little animal than anything else – wounded in the hands of its hunter.

“Follow my lead.” He answered your question hotly, his eyes glinting with something playful but equally sick and sadistic as he stroked your lips with his blood-stained fingers – eagerly watching your little nose twitch at the scent while he pushed two of the digits onto the wet bed of your tongue. “Can you do that, pretty curse?”

You offered only an uneasy whimper, tasting the cursed blood with cinched brows.

It visibly aroused him, making his lips tug at the corners – leveling you with his keen stare as though daring you to do anything but submissively lick the fingers clean.

There’s always been something very sweetly satisfying about forcing a curse to please him. Due to them being purely selfish in nature, it becomes torture in and of itself to make them serve anyone other than themselves.

But strange as it was, observing you, he couldn’t decide if it pained you the same way he’d come to recognize after breaking his many previous pets…

Maybe you’re just a little slow on the uptake. You do seem a little confused, as though his cruelty has you asking yourself why at every turn instead of making you feel the normal rage that most curses fall instinctively to. They all always look at him with such searing hatred, but you’re just… he can’t exactly place the expression as you allow his fingers to rest on your tongue.

Suppose… well… you look as though you’re getting a little shy.

It's a funny thing to witness in a curse. It would have been normal if it were chagrin, but it doesn’t really have that temper to it.

“Wow~ I didn’t know curses could be this humble~” He drawled then, still playing with the wet warmth of your plushy tongue. “Most of you put up a fight- too proud to understand your own good.” He squinted his eyes, finding it more and more strange how you hadn’t tried to bite him yet – even as he split his digits like a scissor and traced the points of your teeth. “Guess you’re just better at knowing your place, huh?”

He withdrew from your mouth and dropped the hand to your collar – dancing the pale spit-slicken digits there as though to remind your throat of its former grip around it.

You flinched when he pulled you onto his bulge; breath caught in your throat and kept there as he pressed his smile onto your lips in a kiss.

His chest rumbled with something guttural, sighing into your mouth with rowdy hunger.

You fumbled, taken aback – but he followed until you accepted it. Then his hand ran further up your back, lifting your shirt on the way.

“Up with your hands~” He guided, and you, though trembling and confused, listened all the same – raising your arms so he could pull the article off over your head. “Good curse~” He purred – right before laying his tongue out flat on your newly exposed skin, licking along the blood stains on your chest.

You’d probably cringe if it didn’t horrify you first. How he moaned at the taste and strengthened his hold, grinding up into you with his hips – pressing you down against himself.

Lifting his head, he attacked your lips again and you allowed it, tasting the blood left on both your tongues as he pushed his inside along yours – exploring your mouth with sounds so hungry they made you whimper in return.

Your bottoms were ripped off suddenly, leaving you naked while cold fingers peppered over the fat of your hips until stationing themselves there firmly, carding into the plush and rolling you over his clothed bump. Hissing at the feel, he bit your lip. And while you whined from the sting it left, he tore open his jacket and wrung it off fast, tossing it somewhere behind you.

Beneath it, he revealed a pristine silk button-up – as white and shiny as his hair – looking out of place against the blood splatter on his skin.

“Come on, make yourself useful-” He groaned with heat, nodding suggestively to his chest, taking your hands and placing them close to his throat – again, as though trying to tempt you into doing something stupid.

But you ignore the bait, undoing the buttons instead of throttling his neck – as though the thought didn’t even cross your mind.

He kept you riding his crotch – his mouth going to your chest again, sucking your nipples into his mouth. Making your job hard, where your hands kept stilling with the need to clutch something.

But eventually, all his buttons were done up – opening to a firm torso of chiseled alabaster abs. No scars to prove he’d ever struggled. Just fair skin lacking a single lasting blemish.

“Like what you see?” He snickered lowly, having caught you staring.

You didn’t know what to say, but either way, any words were caught in your throat as he spun you on your back, bearing down on you with his hand returning to your neck.

He’d found it strange, but now he found it worrying. Vision clouded with heat though still trustworthy, he couldn't help but conclude that you weren’t going to fight him at all.

But that just didn’t make any sense.

“What makes you so eager to please, huh?” He asked then, a lilt in his voice as he crept closer – leaning until his bangs brushed your forehead. “What type of curse are you, exactly…”

You pressed your lips together, bowing your head – having dreaded the question.

“It’s embarrassing, I’d rather not say…” You tried, but the sorcerer wouldn’t allow it – holding you captive with his eyes.

“I wasn’t asking.”

You trembled some but had it on your tongue, and then he tightened the fist on your throat and squeezed the truth out of you.

“Weakness...” You finally let slip, feeling the humiliation tickle up your spine – making you goosefleshed where you lay naked beneath the all-powerful six-eyes whose stare only urged for more detail, compelling you to indulge him.

Your lip quivered but then gave in yet again.

“Made from the self-loathing of weaklings whose only method of survival is to manipulate the strong into pitying them.”

The shame of it made you go flushed.

“It’s... the life of a leach.” You balled your little fists and nibbled your lip. “It’s pathetic…”

It took a while for him to accept it – stunned by what a ridiculous type of curse you revealed yourself to be. But then he loosened his grip again like before, humming out a light chuckle he couldn’t help.

“You’re the only one I didn’t kill.” He said then, audibly and visibly finding it very funny.

You blinked, confusion taking your face – once again looking up at him and regretting it, feeling the weight of those severe comet blues rest heavy on you – life-threatening in and of themselves.

“Seems being pathetic saved your life.” He stated – as though in a compliment.

You weren’t sure of its intentions, finding yourself to be so very small lying there beneath him while confessing to being such a lowlife.

“But there’s more to it, isn’t there?” He cocked a brow, leaning in even closer until his nose bumped yours. “You feed off of the strong. Isn't that right, pretty curse?” His voice edged with something smug and something carnal – watching your round eyes hang off his. “You want me. Isn't that right?”

You took a moment but then nodded real pitifully – your lips brushing each other. He could see so clearly now, swirling in your big eyes – how badly you wanted him.

He chuckled under his breath, whispering against your lips, “Behave, and I’ll make sure to keep you well-fed.”

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meownotgood · 11 months

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quiet dream. / dan heng x reader, 18+, smut, reader is fem bodied, grinding, thigh-fucking, fingering, creampie, soft dan heng, reader is super needy, dan heng offers to help when you can't sleep. word count: 4.7k

You can't sleep.

It's a realization you've slowly come to after waking up in the middle of the night several times in a row, but it really starts to hit you like a truck after the fourth. This time, you don't even bother to try and close your eyes again. You just sigh, twist onto your back, and stare begrudgingly at the shadows on the ceiling.

You want to get some rest, you really do. You know you're going to need it. You can't let exhaustion affect your performance on such a difficult and important mission. But no matter how hard you try, it's damn near impossible to sleep when every time you start to drift off, you get interrupted by dark visions and terrible nightmares and loud voices you don't recognize echoing inside your head.

It's been plaguing you ever since you first set foot in Belobog. You were almost starting to think you were losing it. Perhaps this hotel is cursed. Or maybe not, since none of your comrades seem to be suffering from the same fate.

You stumbled out of your room and saw your teammates already waiting for you in the hall. March chuckles and tells you she had a nice dream about making snow angels with Pom Pom. Dan Heng doesn't look up from his phone as he answers, I didn't have any dreams.

So it's just you.

At this point, you've tried absolutely everything — you've made yourself comfortable in every position you can think of, you've got up and paced around hoping it'd relieve some of your energy, you've tossed and turned and yet still, nothing has helped. No, no, you can't take this, you have to do something. When your missions are only getting more and more difficult, you're going to need all the energy you can get. You can't go another night without sleeping.

Your brain spins with ideas of possible solutions. You can't get any medicine, it's way past the time for any stores to be open. Can't get any food or something to drink either. You don't feel like bothering March 7th, she'll just babble on and on and keep you up even further. Sitting here alone in silence though, with nothing but the idle hum of the passing train cars to keep you company does nothing but make your insomnia worse.

When it comes down to it, there's only one last idea you can think of.

You fling the covers away from your face and sit up to plant both your feet on the ground. You open the door to your room as slowly as you can to keep it from creaking, and you carefully make your way down the hall, rounding the corner, to the first room on your left. Sucking in a nervous breath, you raise your knuckle and knock, but when there's no response after a few seconds, you twist the doorknob and invite yourself inside.

The blankets shuffle and Dan Heng lifts his head immediately, hair messy and eyes squinted as they adjust to the sudden flood of light. He seems to relax, tense shoulders slumping once he realizes it's only you.

"What happened?" His voice is rough and laced with tiredness, but he's sitting up further, and he's getting right to the point, "Are you okay?"

"Nothing, I'm fine. Relax." You raise your hands defensively and gently close the door behind you with your heel. It clicks shut. "I can't sleep, so I figured I'd stay with you for a bit. If that's okay."

Dan Heng eyes you up and down, considering, before he flops back onto the bed with a quiet sigh, the mattress bouncing from the sudden weight.

"Sorry, I'll leave if you want me to."

"No," He retorts sternly, shaking his head, his response catching you a little off guard. Is he really okay with this?

Much to your surprise, he continues, "It's fine, I understand. Here." Then, he shifts, turning over and onto his side to make some space next to him. "You can sleep with me if you think it'll help."

Quickly, without giving him a chance to change his mind, you make your way over, and Dan Heng lifts the covers so you can crawl in. You aren't used to seeing him like this; his hair all ruffled, his clothes casual, just a blank t-shirt and sweats. When you settle in and he leans his head onto the fluffy white pillow, you swear you catch him trying to stifle a yawn.

Honestly, you really didn't expect him to let you in so easily, either. You haven't known him for very long, but you're somewhat familiar with each other, to the point you'd consider him your friend, but Dan Heng's a private sort of person. He's a bit stiff, a bit hard to talk with — You like him, you really do. You like those parts of him. You like the way he's serious and smart and strong, how he's much kinder than he appears.

You like the way his nose scrunches when he's focused on something. You like how he cares for you awkwardly but earnestly, slipping his jacket off of his arms and draping it over your shoulders when you first arrived to Jarilo-VI and said you felt cold. He cleared his throat and glanced away, muttering something half-hearted like, Just thank me later.

The thing is, despite all that, despite everything he's done for you, you can't seem to figure out the way he feels. Dan Heng is the most impossible person you think has ever existed.

And right now, even though he's invited you to come lay next to him, you still can't decide, and your brain is a little too scrambled to really start thinking about it.

He's already shut his eyes again, his face is close, wisps of dark hair messy. His chest rises and falls, up and down.

"Did I wake you up?"

He cracks his eyes back open when he hears you speak once more.

"Yes." Dan Heng answers bluntly, and if you weren't feeling so shitty right now you might've just chuckled.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." The smallest specs of golden light cast from the street lamps outside reflect in his gaze. "I wasn't upset. I'm more concerned about you. Why can't you sleep?"

"Mmm," You look away, shrugging your shoulders, "Bad dreams."

"Nightmares, huh?"

Yeah, he'd surely know a thing or two about that. Though, strangely, he hasn't had any bad dreams since arriving in Belobog. Maybe it's because the plush hotel beds are way comfier than his little setup on the Astral Express, he figures.

The exhaustion in your tone doesn't lie: "They've been happening ever since we got here. And it's not a regular thing, it's the first time I've had so many dreams like this and… they're relentless."

If the room was a little less dim, and if you were paying just a little more attention, you might have caught the way Dan Heng's expression starts to soften.

"I'm sorry. I wonder if there's a reason for it. Something with the environment here." He says. You let your eyes close at the sound of his voice. "I'll check the data bank tomorrow. I researched Jarilo-VI thoroughly before we came here, and I don't remember anything like that in any of the submissions, but… I suppose I might've missed it."

You snuggle into the pillow, your body feels warm and light; Dan Heng's presence alone provides you with comfort, and you're already starting to drift off. You silently hope to yourself that this will be the last time, and then you murmur in response, "Dunno. I'm tired, you can tell me about it later."

"Right." Dan Heng answers. "I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

Dan Heng is losing his mind.

When you first stumbled into his room, he didn't think anything of it. He knows how difficult nightmares can be, especially the ones that seem to be affecting you. Until now, he's never seen you so troubled. He doesn't have a problem keeping you company — you'd do the same for him, and he knows that.

The first time, you managed to drift off for an hour or so. He stayed awake for a while to watch over you, and when you ended up waking up from another bad dream, Dan Heng slung an arm around you, he rubbed your back with his palm and tried to mutter something into your ear to help you fall asleep: some boring story he learned from the archives.

But you were quick to wake again. And again, and again. Nothing worked, trying his best to help you has only served to make him just as restless as you are, and right now you, you're just —

"Dan Heng, please."

You say his name in a voice so pleading, so sweet and sugary it takes nearly everything he has to struggle to resist. A warm blaze of heat rushes to every corner of his face, his breath is hot and thick, the slightest bit shaky when it fans over the expanse of your neck. In your tossing and turning, you've chosen to face away from him now, with your back pressed deft to his chest. Dan Heng wonders how strongly you can feel the thudding of his heart.

The proximity alone is enough to get his heart pounding — you're so warm, so close, he can't take it — but each and every word you say makes it so much worse, and you keep shifting back, you keep pressing into him and you just have to know what you're doing.

"You're still awake."

Dan Heng breathes the words into your ear, his voice as still as he can get it. Matter-of-fact, just an observation. Not acknowledging anything but not ignoring you either. Exactly as you'd expect him to respond.

Softly, barely audible, you grumble back a simple response: "Yeah."

"Get some rest."

You back up into him a bit more, your ass rubs against his groin, right there; you both sigh in unison, yours of relief, his more like exasperation.

Dan Heng grips you hard, fingers curled into your side. "Stop it."

"I can't, I can't fall asleep like this. You're so stubborn." You huff, and you sound honest with that, you're seemingly breathless already.

It's half his fault this is happening. He'll take some of the blame. Perhaps he shouldn't have held you so close earlier. When your breathing got faster, when you hugged him tighter, maybe it was wrong of him to let his lips ghost over your neck, or his palms drift over your thighs.

He wasn't trying to take things this far, he's never had any bad intentions. He's the one in the wrong for getting carried away. You were just so close, and Dan Heng hasn't been able to stop his heart from pounding for hours now.

It wouldn't be the first time he's thought more with his heart than his brain. Stupid.

He swallows the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry."

He's realizing he's weaker than he thought he was, he's more obvious about his feelings for you than he intended. He has to be stubborn, but he's already failed, because you've gone and found him out. Now, you know.

You know, because you're gripping his arm with an urgency, you're twisting around and forcing him to meet your desperate eyes while your free hand finds and fiddles with the loose drawstrings of his sweatpants.

Dan Heng, please fuck me.

God, how can you say that without even hesitating? His head is spinning. He feels dizzy, he feels like this isn't really happening.

"You're- that's enough." He presses his hand to your shoulder and shoves, but clearly with no force behind it. You don't budge.

"How many more times?" Your warm fingers are working their way under the hem of his pants now, teasing his bare skin ever-so slightly, "How many more times do I have to ask?"

How much longer, because you know he's going to give in.

"I-" Dan Heng looks away, anywhere but where you're staring at him. He breathes a long, heavy sigh out from his mouth. There's an ache in his chest he can't possibly shake, and an even harder throb between his legs.

He shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't. You don't have protection. You're not even dating.

One hand twists up to hold the back of his neck, and when the other brushes down to squeeze the bulge of his stiffening cock through his sweats, Dan Heng starts to forget about all the things he'd better not do.

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, and with eyes half-open, he looks towards you again, finally. "You think it'll help you sleep?"

You nod, "Mhmm."

"And you're okay with that? This is really what you want?"

"Yes, it is, I'm sure," You say, you're starting to tug his sweats from his hips and his breath is hitching and stuttering in his throat, "I can't wait any longer. I need you."

Dan Heng gives himself just one more moment to attempt to compose himself. Your thumbs brush the space just underneath his hip bones, and he takes an unconvincing deep breath in. Then, he's placing his hand on your chest and gently pushing you back; the hotel bed creaks, the mattress shifts and the sheets rustle as he slowly climbs on top of you.

"Need is a strong word," Fingers grasped around the hem, he makes quick work of shedding his t-shirt. The crisp night air is colder than he thought. The dim light casts most of his face in shadow. "What's got you like this?"

"You want it with me just as badly, don't you?"

You've dodged the question. But you aren't wrong.

"Just this once." Dan Heng affirms, "We won't bring it up again."

One time. That'll be enough. If he's lucky, you'll save him the embarrassment and remember this as just another dream.

When it comes to you, he's just too weak.

"Dan Heng-"

There it is again, you're saying his name in a tone reserved just for him — Dan Heng gasps, he fucks up into you a little harder, he rams right into your sweet spot and you grasp his forearm to steady yourself, his muscles firm when you squeeze. The sound of skin against skin along with the rhythmic creak of the bed echo around the walls of the small hotel room. Arm wrapped around your stomach, you're on your side, and his body curls around yours, his head leant on your shoulder, hand tightly gripping the fat of your thigh.

Sweat coats his skin, his head feels hazy, thoughts dreamy. By now, he's come to lose any semblance of lucidity he once had, any hope of not taking things any further. But when he's buried all the way inside you, he's hardly even come to realize.

His voice feels sore and tired, but he still manages to mumble into your ear, "Say it again."

And you do, you say his name once more, twice more. Dan Heng fucks his cock right into that perfect spot for the hundredth time and you're cooing each syllable for him even louder.

"S-Shit, you-" He interrupts himself with a gasp for breath, "You feel so amazing, I'm- I can't," He never sounds like this, so needy and awestruck. A soft moan uttered right into the nape of your neck, then, "I'm gonna cum again."

Your fingers clench the sheets tighter, your breath comes out in short pants, "Wanna hear you say my name too, Dan Heng-"

His arms are shaking, and once he teeters over the edge he's practically biting down on your shoulder to keep himself from getting too loud; he focuses less on hitting the right spot and more on getting off, his thrusts into you become sloppy and clumsy and erratic. As he cums, chanting your name with each fragile breath, he just barely manages to find a moment of clarity, slipping out to fist his cock and empty all over the sheets.

His heart thuds incessantly in his ears, drowning out everything else. He's gasping, wiping his hand off on the sheet, resting his forehead onto your shoulder and swallowing to keep his throat from drying up.

"You alright?" Of course, your well-being is the first thing Dan Heng is concerned about.

"I'm fine," You answer immediately.

Dan Heng stays quiet for a few agonizingly long seconds. Slowly, he guides his half-hard cock to your thighs, he slides it in between them and feels it start to throb and pulse with need again once you squirm, adjusting to give him more room to work with.

Warm, you're so warm, he closes his eyes and thrusts forwards and he's already thinking about how it's going to feel so much better when he puts it back inside you.

"Sorry, what am I doing?" Dan Heng suddenly freezes, rubbing his temple with his fingers. He's absolutely losing his mind. "I'll stop. I'll stop if you want me to."

"Don't," You reply, and he finds it difficult to object, "I want to keep going, come here."

You're twisting around then, pulling away from him and shifting onto your back, splaying your arms above your head and blinking away whatever exhaustion is starting to form behind your eyelids. Dan Heng is quick to follow suit, settling into his familiar spot on top of you.

He raises his hand, and he lets his knuckles brush tenderly over the side of your cheek. "You sure? You're still not tired?"

Your response comes in the form of a hasty shake of your head and an eager grab of his arm.

It's been like this for hours now. Dan Heng gives you what you want, you're satisfied for a bit until you beg and coax him into giving you more. The faintest hints of sunlight are starting to creep past the curtains now, and as much as Dan Heng is trying to hold on to his sanity as best as he can, he's really starting to think he's past the point of no return.

How is he supposed to face you tomorrow? Hell, tomorrow is already practically here, and yet he still can't stop.

He keeps telling himself the two of you need to calm down — but as you're gripping his hand, as you're pressing his fingertips over your swollen clit, dragging them down and getting them nice and wet on your arousal, his heart is once again caught in his throat and all he can do is listen.

Dan Heng's whole body shivers. He gives you exactly what you want; he sinks his fingers into you knuckle-deep, he pumps them in and out to a slow and careful rhythm, slick sounds ringing in his ears.

"Dan-"

He quirks his fingers up and presses them right where they belong, and you can't manage to get out the other half of his name.

"More?" Like he already knows what you're going to say, he pulls his fingers out before he even sees you nod, just like that.

His palms find your waist, he holds you with shaking hands as if you're delicate. Shiny, wet precum is already budding at his slit, and he aligns his hips to press the needy tip of his dick to your entrance. His bottom lip finds its way between his teeth as he's sliding in, just barely, stretching you with just the fat tip of his cock; the rest of him aches, his eyelids flutter and he groans, he can't move. He can't, or he already won't last.

Please, Dan Heng. Put it in all the way.

You're greedy, so ridiculously insatiable. He doesn't blame you though. He can't.

Here you are, always so kind to him, always asking so nicely. Always saying please, always loyal, always sticking by his side. Begging for him, all for him. He'd be stupid not to give you everything — everything you ask for, and every last second in the stretch of this infinite universe.

Because you're special to him. You mean more to him than he'd ever be able to admit. And after being cooped up in the Astral Express for so long, after so much running and running and never finding his place, after never having time for anything like this and never realizing how badly he needed it, he knows he's even worse.

It fits in so easy when he finally slides all the way in, like he was meant to be there. He stays still at first, taking deep breaths, getting used to the feeling. He's sensitive, way too sensitive. He tries his best to ignore it and focus on you. He rolls his shoulders backwards, waits for the moment you start to impatiently squirm. And then, he pulls back only to press all the way in; he starts up a gentle rhythm, taking things slow, fucking you nice and softly.

Even just his shallow thrusts feel heavenly. Your nerves feel like they're on fire, you're warm all over from head to toe. You're a second away from choking out a plea for him to go harder, but Dan Heng seems to read your mind before you've spoken a single word.

You're pretty when you're underneath him, pretty face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his. It's a pretty sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before.

You've always been pretty in his eyes. But more than anything, he wants to see how pretty you'll look when he makes you fall apart.

"You're getting loud," He mumbles, in that matter-of-fact way you've come to expect. He doesn't slow down though, doesn't give you a moment to breathe; he squeezes your thighs and rubs them with his palms. "If we keep going like this- they'll hear. You know that?"

"Don't care," You can barely get out the words, your back takes on a tell-tale arch, "Let them. Just don't stop."

Dan Heng isn't sure how thin these walls are. But in hindsight, it might be too late. The thought makes him feel dirty. He should have considered quieting down a long time ago.

Forehead to forehead with you, his pace speeds up a little, a tight knot forms in the pit of your stomach. His hair is a thick, tangled mess, even messier when you reach up to run your fingers through; you grasp and tug, sending waves down his spine, and Dan Heng can't help but whimper. He bucks into you hard, desperately, and you can't do anything but claw at his back, leaving scrapes and marks of red.

He's panting, his face is inches away from yours; he can't take it anymore. He starts with a single quiet please, and when you cup his cheek in your hand he's sighing and stammering without even thinking, "Please I- please kiss me, please please please-"

You pull him closer, he tilts his head and you shut him up as your lips connect for the first time tonight — Dan Heng kisses you softly, his lips plush, his heart flutters and flips. His first kiss with you, and it's so much more desperate than he expected, but he needs this too badly to take things slow. Your lips part and he's groaning, licking into your mouth, sucking on your tongue.

He takes the opportunity to grab your thigh, tossing your leg over his shoulder to give himself a better angle. He pistons in and out at a steady pace until you're about to snap, until everything else is melting away and you're focused on nothing but him. Until he gets carried away, the tip of his cock shoves in too deep, and you're tossing your head back, crying so loudly you're certain someone would hear. He feels so good you can't bother to care.

"M'close," You're mumbling once he gives you a moment to breathe, dragging away from your lips to plant wet kisses onto your cheek, your jaw, your neck. Your fingertips drag along his back, you feel out the shape of his mismatched scars — you're whining even louder, begging for him to make you cum, and Dan Heng is really, really done for.

He's thought himself to be somewhat of a strong person. Someone with a good resolve. Tonight, you're making him rethink everything.

He's close too, movements getting sloppy, it's growing harder and harder for him to hold back how you make him feel. He's never felt like this, never been so desperate. Dan Heng's fingers twitch, he moans and wraps an arm around your back securely. He rests his head in your nape and sighs, breath warm and heavy on your skin.

"I-" He hesitates, because even now, even after all this, he's nervous to speak; his chest heaves, his whole body's trembling. "I want to cum with you."

"Don't pull out, please Dan Heng, it feels so good, you're making me feel so good-"

He shouldn't listen to you. But he will. And he won't even think twice.

"Gonna cum," His shoulders tense, his voice nearly breaks, "F-Fuck, you're so sweet, I'm-" A stuttery whine, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming…"

A few more sloppy thrusts and you're both done for. Wet sounds fill your ears, Dan Heng reaches up with an unsteady hand and grips the headboard to keep himself steady. When you cum, clenching hard and throbbing around his cock, chanting his name just as he hoped you would, Dan Heng has little pent-up tears forming in the corners of his eyes, he hastily covers your mouth with his free hand, your noises muffled on his palm. He's riding his high out with you and fucking you through it all, biting hard on his bottom lip to stay quiet, shamelessly spilling every drop of his spend inside.

It takes a while for him to finally slow down, for his vision to unblur. He nearly collapses on top of you, and it takes him even longer to work up the strength to pull out.

The early-morning sun shines even brighter through the curtains. His fingers slip over your cheek, they fiddle idly with your ear. He kisses your lips once before finally settling, rolling over next to you with his eyes already closed.

"Dan Heng."

He was hoping you'd managed to fall asleep, finally. He gives himself a second to regain some energy, and then with a huff, he lifts his head and props himself up on his elbows, meeting your eyes.

"I don't want this to end."

Your words catch him by surprise. Your genuine expression does even more so.

"It won't," He concludes, earnest as ever. Your hands are splayed out above your head, clenching and unclenching, and he grips one to give you something to hold onto. "I'm not going anywhere. And I won't forget about this, or about you. I'll be here when you get up, do you think you can try and get some rest now? It's late."

It's early, more so.

You offer him a shallow nod in response, and Dan Heng wastes no time fluffing your pillow, pulling the covers over you, and giving you some space to curl up. He doesn't bother to find your clothes, he just tucks the blankets in around you and hopes that'll suffice for now.

"I…" He gets comfy next to you, resting his head on his arm. "I don't want this to end either. I don't. I didn't even think it was happening for a while. I think… I think we should focus on our mission. We can't afford to get distracted. But when we're back on the Astral Express- Once we've got more time on our hands, we can talk about this. How's that?"

You don't answer. He takes a few moments to realize you've stilled, your chest calmly rising and falling.

"Are you asleep?"

#dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #dan heng smut #honkai star rail smut

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