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rinhaler · 8 months

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Baby I Know How To Use a Gun (𝒢𝓊𝓃.. 𝔊𝔲𝔫)

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ⁭toxic!megumi fushiguro x f!reader

Genre: smut Notes: this concept has been making me insane for WEEKS I just had to get it down, it's icky as usual = bon apetit ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ p.s. i dont know anything abt guns uwu Warnings: 18+, dubcon, vaginal sex, alcohol consumption, cheating, toxic!relationship (they are both toxic af), gaslighting, manipulation, coercion, co-dependency, gun inaccuracies (probably), gunplay ♡ physical abuse?, pussy drunk!megumi, choking, dacryphilia, daddy!kink, bruising ♡, spanking, masochism, minor dildo use, fingering, dumbifcation, pussy spanks, scratching, breeding kink, calls your pussy ‘she’. Words: 8k (I'm so sorry)

part of my toxic lovers collab

Nothing bothers you when you’re with Megumi. It’s impossible to feel any emotion besides pure, unadulterated lust whenever he’s with you. You were always such a prude before him. Absolutely disgusted whenever you’d see a couple hold hands or peck each other on the cheek.

It made your skin crawl when you saw couples kiss with tongue.

But he’s turned you into something you hate. You don’t care if you’re sitting with a group of friends, you couldn’t stop yourself from straddling him and basically dry fucking his thigh while making out with him. And it was worse when you drank.

So here you are now, in the back of a taxi on the way home from a mutual friend’s party. You haven’t seen Megumi in two days after a particularly vicious fight. You’d think an invisible force was driving the taxi, the way you’re kissing and wriggling around for him. You’ve rolled your hips so much that the uncomfortable driver can see a tease of white cotton between your legs under your little cocktail dress.

Megumi’s mouth is wet. A combination of sticky lip gloss and a mixture of saliva’s. He pulls away from kissing you every so often just to hear you whisper desperately for the feeling to return. He pulls little moans from you as he teases between your sodden folds.

“Knew you’d miss this dick too much to say no.” he grins before kissing you more. You laugh into it, not an ounce of remorse or regret behind it as you feel him against you. “Say you missed me. Tell daddy you missed ‘im.” he demands, grunting against you.

You ignore him, trying to shut him up with a kiss. A perfectly manicured hand traverses from his shoulder to his thigh, a subtle tease to distract him. A noble attempt results in failure when he stops playing with you and grabs your wandering wrist.

“Tell me.”

You avert your eyes, deciding to look out of the window while wiping the spit and gloss from your chin. He watches you, carefully, eye twitching as he tries to deduce what you’re keeping from him. A finger presses into that soft flesh of your cheek bending quickly and forcing you to face him yet again.

“What are you hiding?” he asks, the friendly lilt behind his voice being betrayed by the unamused sneering smile on his face. “Who did you fuck?”

“None of your—”

“Just tell me, you know you’re going to fucking spill so just do it now.” he instructs. You hear an amused scoff from him as you cross your arms petulantly and pout like a child who isn’t allowed a toy from the store. His face gets closer to yours, but you’ve already had enough of him. It’s been two days and you thought you were gonna die if you didn’t see him. But a few minutes in a taxi has reminded you why you didn’t want to see him in the first place. “Did he at least make you cum?” he whispers into your ear.

A soft breath leaves you as his hand slithers down your stomach and under the hem of your dress. You want to protest as you feel him prodding over the damp spot of your panties, but your mouth turns dry. Words turn to ash as he repeatedly tortures you with featherlight touches against your clit.

“Hm? Did your new little boyfriend make this pussy cum?” he wonders, voice a lecherous buzz that vibrates from your ear to your cunt. You fucking hate him. You can’t stand how difficult it is to stay true to your morals and self-respect when he knows every single square inch of your body and exactly which titillating button to press. “Mmm, bet he didn’t. Bet he couldn’t. ‘cause she only listens to me.”

“Megs…” you groan. Your hips involuntarily rolling up into his touch. The teasing barely there presses making your mind hazy, your body instinctively chases for more as the touch feels less and less the harder you buck. “D-Don’t stop, Megu—”

He softly kisses your lips to silence you, still refusing to continue touching you properly. You moan, a chaste sound as his lips stray from yours to kiss along your jaw like he loves you. He sucks at your neck like a fucking vampire before alternating to those sweet kisses again. You hate him, you hate that he’s trying to be something he’s not to get you to tell him your secret.

These kisses are so fucking sickly, like a stranger is forcing himself inside of your skin with each delicate press against your neck. And it’s making your teeth rot. You’re a stupid girl. His stupid girl because you’re falling for it. Your candy-coated tongue is loosening and preparing to bare your entire fucking soul to him so long as he keeps touching you and giving you your sugar fix.

His hand holds your waist, a weight for himself more than you. Two whole days away from your perfect cunt has been hell for him, and not being able to touch you is a fate worse than death. He wants to tease your pressure points until you’re dying for him. He wants your every breath to be agonising without him.

Without seeing him.

Without feeling him.

Without breathing him.

He needs your every thought and whim to be aching for him and him alone. So, he needs to control himself. By showing restraint and fighting his primal urge to make your pussy fucking purr for him, he’s keeping his hand on your waist.

You smirk as he decorates your neck in bruises, you feel the sickening smile sprawling across his fucking face. And again, you want to protest, you want to tell him what you think of him and how much you can’t stand him. But when his hand begins another journey, you can’t. You can’t as your body jolts into his touch as his fingertips tickle your ribs. They don’t stop, teasing traces of his finger cover your body despite being clothed.

How can such a light touch feel so powerful?

You try to stifle yourself as he cups your breast, the flesh and swollen nipple are exposed thanks to your decision to forgo a bra. You still have your dignity, Megumi isn’t that perverse to allow this random old driver the honour of seeing your tits.

You’re just that weak.

They’re covered, entirely, and still his rubbing and tweaking are too much for you. Your attempt to bite your lip is just that. An attempt. A feeble attempt to withhold your pleasure from him which only ends in you mewling harder for him. Your heavy, lust-filled breaths fill the cab as he rubs his thumb slowly back and forth over your nipple. His teeth bite and kiss at your jawline once more, albeit he is barely present either. He’s almost as fucked out as you are, he can’t silence his pleasure. His breathing heavier than you know it to be. His eyes lidded heavier than they’ve ever been.

“Yuuji—” you pant, your body is limp in the back seat as he feels you up. His fingers dig into the supple flesh of your thigh as he kisses your neck and sinks his head until he reaches the top of your breast. “Did you hear m— ow! Megumi!”

“Shut up.” he chides. He sank his teeth into your tit before speaking.

You stare into his emerald eyes as you contemplate his next move. That’s the one bad thing about being with Megumi.

That’s a lie, there’s a lot of bad things, you just choose to ignore them.

But you know you’ll never be as clever as he is. You’ll never be able to fully read him like he does you. He knows every move you’re going to make before you’ve made it. He can read you like a book and it fucking scares you.

“Yuuji couldn’t make you cum… you wanna know why?” he asks, his thumb strokes your earlobe between gentle pulls. It’s too sweet again, you think. There’s no way he’s this calm after finding out you fucked his best friend. He’s always been jealous. You think he’s just possessive but deep down you should know the truth. He’s scared you’ll leave him. He’s insecure and that is why he makes such a show of making it known that you are his.

“Why…” is all you can think to say. And he smiles at that. His fingers no longer toying with your ear. The way his fingers draw along your skin makes your hair stand on end. He feels no sympathy as he sees your arm breakout in goosebumps despite knowing he is the cause. And he feels even less as he wraps his hand around your pretty little throat.

He squeezes tight.

Tighter.

“Because you don’t belong to Yuuji. You belong to me.” he tells you, his grip is bruising. His teeth are bared as he feels your pathetic pawing, desperately trying to pull his fingers from your neck.

He’s going to kill you, you think. His voice full of vitriol and malice as he effortlessly wrings the life out of you with one hand. And the taxi driver doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to intervene because it isn’t his place.

A lovers quarrel.

That’s what he must think. You were all over each other a moment ago after all, maybe you’re just a slut who likes it a little rough.

You are, but that’s besides the point.

He probably doesn’t want to risk sticking his nose in and getting more involved than he needs to be. You know yourself that Megumi doesn’t care. He’d only tell him to mind his own fucking business.

“You think I didn’t know?” he whispers, his breath warming the shell of your ear as he doesn’t let up. “You reek like him… you smell like a fucking whore.” his words, his tone, his breath all dripped with virulence. He lets go of you, practically throwing you to the other side of the taxi as tears spill over your cheeks.

You wipe them, quickly, but the damage is done. The way you’re sniffling and trying to do damage control to your perfectly done makeup is nauseating to him. Silence fills the taxi and the air is thick. You roll down a window, the cold air lashes against your face and dries your tears as you wait to reach your destination.

The car pulls up outside of your apartment. You barely wait for him to come to a stop before you open the door and rush out to open the security door. The bite in the winter air has you trembling as you fiddle with your keys. The little dress and lack of coat certainly wasn’t a wise choice, but you’ll always place looking hot ahead of being practical.

But in truth, the weather isn’t the sole culprit. It’s barely bothering you, honestly. Megumi’s casual callousness and unyielding grip around your throat are what has you shaken up. It’s not the first time he’s choked you and you doubt it’ll be the last. But it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him do it with that look in his eye. A look that told you how little you mean to him. How unfazed he would be if you died by his hand.

You’re wrong, though. While you’re fiddling with your keys Megumi pays the driver. He tips him a fair amount and then follows you out, approaching slowly as he waits for you to open the door. His eyes weren’t cold because you mean nothing to him, it’s the opposite. You are everything to him. Why do you think he’s being so cruel to you? To get it through that pretty little skull.

“You didn’t answer me, princess.” he tells you, and by now you don’t even know what he’s talking about. “Did you think you could fuck anybody and I wouldn’t find out? I always do.”

“Shut up.” you tell him, though it’s quiet and meek. Your usual bravado and confidence lodged in your dry throat. You finally slot the key in the hole and turn it, allowing him to enter with you. “You said it yourself… I was always going to tell you I fucked him.”

He scoffs, watching you climb the stairs. Even now he has no shame. He’s unable to stop himself peaking up your dress to see your panties riding up your ass as you walk. You can be as mad at him as you like, you both know you’re too weak to say no to him.

He follows, eventually, catching up with ease. You allow him to take the key from you and walk ahead, unlocking the door like it’s his apartment. It may as well be, he spends so much time here after all. Most of his things are here, you’re here. Though he’s been banished for the last few days to stay at his dad’s house after your latest fight.

The door opens and he makes himself at home. He collapses onto the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and crosses one ankle over the other. You go inside, slowly, locking the door behind you and looking at him suspiciously.

“… What are you doing? I know you aren’t here for a fucking movie night, Megs, are we going to bed or not?”

“No. We’ve gotta talk first.” he tells you. You roll your eyes and leave him alone to walk to your bedroom. He sighs, annoyed, following you. “Back to being a brat? You only fuckin’ behave yourself when I make you cum.”

“Fuck you.” you sigh. “What is there to talk about?”

“You cheating on me with my best friend springs to mind, baby. We should probably clear that up, shouldn’t we?” he’s talking like it was a silly misunderstanding. Like you almost walked away with his suitcase at the airport that just so happens to be identical to yours. But nothing you do will ever match up to what he does. You can go low; but there’s no sight to the depths he’ll stoop to.

“Fuck! You!” you tell him, pointing your finger in his face like you always do when you’ve had too much vodka. “You are the reason I don’t have any friends anymore because you fucked them all! I broke up with you when I fucked Yuuji so whoever I fuck in that time is none of your business. I—”

“Baby—”

“No, shut up. I forgave you every single time you fucking cheated on me because I’m an idiot and I love you. So, stop talking about Yuuji, it doesn’t matter. We weren’t together. In fact, we still aren’t! You should count yourself fucking lucky that I’m even giving you the chance to fuck me tonight.”

He walks to you, slowly, and you don’t have the energy to be a brat anymore. You let him get closer and closer until you’re looking up into his eyes while his hand rests on your hip and the other cups your cheek. His head tilts, and your eyes instinctively flutter closed as his lips press against yours.

“I know ‘m lucky, princess. Missed you so much baby.” he tells you before deepening the kiss.

You’re too weak to be with a man like him and expect to be anything but a plaything. The hand lingering on your hip wraps around your back before down to your ass. The pudgy softness of your ass swells between his fingers, the white material of your dress warming his hands as he grips you roughly. He smirks against your lips before landing a harsh smack against your supple flesh. The yelp he extracts from you is fucking delectable. He could quite happily gorge himself on the sound and make it his life essence until the end of time.

“Daddy missed his perfect girl ‘n her perfect pussy… didn’t even fuck anyone else. No one compares to you, y’know?” he tells you quietly, almost like it’s a secret only meant for you to hear. He hikes up your leg so it’s settled around his waist, your other instinctively follows so that you’re completely in his hold. He walks you to the bed, his mouth suffocating yours and you can’t think of a single coherent thought as your brain feels starved of oxygen.

You giggle as you fall onto the bed, your shoulder blades against the mattress while he presses his weight fully on top of yours. He keeps a thigh between both of yours, and he revels in how pathetically you’re rutting your hips against it just to satiate the slightest bit of tension formulating at your core because of him.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you slip your tongue into his mouth. The moaning sounds trapped in your throat break free and he devours them as he feels you up in every way he can to make your mind dizzy and drunker than vodka could ever make you.

“Do you believe me?” he asks, breaking the kiss to see how needy you are. Your eyes give you away in an instant, filling with water the minute he pulls away. You feel so in love with him when you have your arms around him like this. When he’s caging you in like you’re his property.

You are.

That’s how he sees you, and that’s how he makes you feel.

No matter how dehumanising or fucked up, you just don’t care. You wouldn’t want to belong to anyone but him, anyone. And isn’t this what the main goal in life is? To find your person? To fall in love and be adored so wholly it makes you insane?

You feel that with him.

He feels that with you.

“N-No…” you confess. You aren’t scared of him; you never really have been. You’re scared of what he can do to you. You’re terrified of how strong he is and how unyielding he is in his pursuit of having all that he wants in the world with a cherry on top for presentation. But he doesn’t scare you, not really. Not enough to hide how you really feel. “Why would I believe you when you’ve cheated so much?” you ask.

He’s a little surprised by your brazenness and resolve. Usually with a little kissing and humping you stop caring about what kind of a person he is and what he’s done to you in the past. You aren’t scared; but you’re making him feel fear.

“Mmm, baby. You really need to cum, hah? Is that why you’re bein’ so dumb f’me? Can’t think because you need to cream for daddy…” he insults you with ease, and your brows knot into a bemused frown. “Awe… you’re s’cute when you’re confused, baby. Jus’ let me touch you, don’t think too hard. I forgive ya.”

“W-Wha?” you hum, the determination to continue questioning him falls silent as he pushes your panties into the crease of your thigh. The breeze rolling through the open window causing a shiver to roll through you and truly feel the difference between your freezing body and the sopping warmth betwixt your thighs.

“You said you didn’t cheat when you fucked Yuuji. So how can I cheat if I fucked other girls at the same time?” he asks. “I didn’t, though,” he spreads your pussy lips open and collects the ever-dampening slick on his fingers. He buries his head beside yours, kissing and breathing against your ear as he swipes softly over your throbbing clit.

“But you—”

“I fucked my fist ‘n thought of you.” he whispers, his fingers not stopping the lackadaisical stroking. “Whenever I got hard… jus’ thought of your pretty cunt swallowin’ me and made myself cum so fast. Looked through your Insta feed ‘n your selfies, imagined cumming all over your face.”

“Fuck.” you keen, hips bucking wildly in search of more pleasure than his modest touches. You fully wrap your arms around him, kissing him passionately and he begins to pick up the pace. “I love you.” you mumble, like the pathetic person you are. He grins and bites your lower lip before kissing you deeply.

He’s got you right where he wants you.

“I love you, baby.” he confesses, though you’ll never know if he really means it. Maybe he loves fucking you and loves having a pretty little trophy on his arm to call his and show off to his friends. Maybe he loves the idea of you and what you can do for him in terms of looks and status.

But is he in love with you?

You can only hope.

All you can do is hope he never lies to you. He never hides his cheating from you, you think he’s always honest with you so is it possible he can actually love you when he says he does? It’s enough to make you cry. Knowing that you’ll never really know makes you feel sick with an excruciating desire to make him.

You have to be his perfect girl.

You have to take all of the negatives that come with loving Megumi Fushiguro.

He stands above you on his knees, reaching over you to grab some pillows to place under your hips. You wriggle and squirm in his absence, awaiting his return to you. But you forgot about the pillows. Your head snaps in the direction he’s reaching as he picks up the two nearest pillows to him. Any attempt to object would be fruitless now that you’re too late.

Your body fills with heat and shame as he lifts the pillows to see a purple, silicone dildo beneath where they once were. The laugh that escapes him is boisterous as he looks between you and the toy. You shield your face with your hands, almost ready to cry, and his laughing doesn’t cease.

“This is pathetic, princess. Did you even fuck Yuuji? Or did you just spend the last two days riding this stupid thing?”

“I fucked him!” you protest. You reach to grab the purple dildo from his hand but he’s too fast for you, still far too amused by this discovery to let up on teasing you. “He did make me cum, by the way—”

“You are a fucking liar.” he snorts. “Bet ya hurried him out of here so fast so that you could stuff this purple cock up yourself and pretend it was daddy fuckin’ you. Bet you were tryin’ so hard to cum and you couldn’t.”

“I hate you.” you sniff, attempting to grab the toy once more to no avail.

“You just told me you love me. So again, you’re fuckin’ lying to me, princess.” he continues.

You feel his body press against yours once more as he cages you in. You just watch him and prepare for whatever he’s about to do. There’s no point in trying to fight him when you know you’ll always lose. You cringe, slightly, as he starts to trace the tip of the cock over your swollen lips. His own mouth widens, a silent action, he’s coaxing you to mirror. And perfectly, you do.

You’re almost certain you see a heart-shaped twinkle in his eye as he softly pokes it in and out of your mouth, enamoured by the way your tongue instinctively swirls around it. You see more of his sharp canines the further he pushes it in. And it’s a full-blown snarl as he shoves it down your throat until you’re sputtering.

“I fucking hate you!” you yell and grab the toy quicker than he’d anticipated, snatching it from his grasp. “Get off me, now.” you command, pushing him off you. You know he let you when he moves away effortlessly. If he wanted to keep you trapped, he would.

“You’re so easy to tease.” he smiles.

You ignore him completely as you stand up. He watches you intently as you pull open the second drawer of your nightstand so hard the entire cabinet shakes. He tries to steal a peak of whatever other treasures you might be hiding in there, but you kick it closed before he can torment you any further.

“Awe, you’re no fun. Not gonna let daddy see what other toys aren’t good enough? Can show you how to use ‘em when you’re missing me.” he grins, he gets closer to you. Close enough to smooth his hands over your sides as you glare down furiously at him. You grab his hands, basically throwing them back at him.

“You are such a dick all of the time. I actually can’t stand you; I hate you.” you tell him, knowing yourself it’s a weak response even for you.

“You’re always such a good fuck when you’re pissed off.” he smirks, he takes off his shirt and throws it aside. You do your best to keep eye contact with him, not wanting to let your eyes wander and rake over his chiselled body. He sees you steal a few glances; he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. “Stop bein’ such a brat. Don’t be embarrassed, daddy thinks it’s cute that you touch yourself.”

A black silhouette in the drawer is stuck in your mind. Despite your cunt growing wetter and your thoughts becoming cloudy, you can think of nothing else. He is a dick. And part of you does fucking hate him. So, you open the drawer again. He doesn’t watch you, this time, he’s more focused on reading your body language now. What are you thinking? What’s on your mind?

“’m really pissed off, daddy.” you tell him with confidence. His body stiffens like a corpse as you pull a gun from the cabinet. A Glock 40. He does all he can to maintain his composure, to remain control of the situation and of you. But it’s clear he’s worried. He’s never seen you like this before, ever.

But he knows you. He knows what you’re thinking before you even do. He can read every little muscle pulling on your face. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to look angry, he knows what you look like when you’re really angry. You’re pissed, sure, but you certainly aren’t capable of doing any real damage with that thing. Not on purpose, anyway. And definitely not with the way your hands are fucking trembling.

“You gonna kill me, baby?” he asks.

“I might.” you tell him, you can feel the way your hands are shaking while gripping onto the gun. There’s no question he’s noticed, too. You’ve made a declaration by standing here like this, willing to toy with his life as well as your own. You can’t just put it away and pretend nothing happened, you need to make some kind of statement or you’ll never here the end of it.

He’ll ridicule you ‘til his dying breath.

“How?” he asks, getting closer to you. You back away, but you’re against the wall before you know it. He sits on the edge of the bed, his feet planted firmly against the ground so you know he can lunge at any moment.

“I’ll shoot you…” you speak, he hears an unintentional warble in your voice, and you can see the fucking smirk stretching across his face at the sound. You fucked up, he knows you don’t have it in you. But he’s probably known the whole time.

He grabs your wrist, and you yelp. Your eyes widen in horror as he moves your hands so that the gun is aimed at his chest.

His heart.

“Here?” he asks, and it’s so casual, you think you might throw up. You want to protest, to snatch your hands away and tell him to stop being so stupid. But you can’t, you can’t give into his mind games now. You can’t. Your hands are tremoring as he moves the gun again, resting it right between his eyes. “Hm… here? Probably the quickest. Won’t leave much mess if it gets stuck in my brain.” he explains.

“Stop it.” you mutter, he can feel the way your hands are trying to get free from his hold but he’s much too strong. “I’m s-sorry, stop it, please.”

“Could make me swallow a bullet too, but I don’t think you’re gonna shoot me anywhere.” he smiles, forcing you to aim at his perfect, gleaming teeth. “Where the fuck did you get this anyway? You really are stupid.”

“My dad gave it to me!” you inform him, and you’re aiming at him with new courage and will. “I know how to use it; I have a license.”

“Your pussyof a dad got you this?” he laughs.

You shove the gun against his teeth, not taking kindly to him insulting your father unprovoked. He looks up at you with a heavy-lidded gaze, he’s never been so attracted to you, really. Seeing you do all you can to stand up to him but both of you ultimately knowing you will never truly be a match for him, it’s quite interesting. Arousing, even.

He widens his mouth, allowing you to slot the black chamber between rows of white. The blinding contrast is almost enough to make you consider what you’re doing. Are you sure you want to do this? You are dangling his life in your quivering hands, after all.

“I should make you choke on this.” you whimper a little, a tear finally rolling down your cheek and giving your true cowardice away. You aren’t going to hide it this time. There’s no point in trying to clear away what he’s already seen. And you have no intention of holding a gun with just one hand when you’re already so shaken up.

He grabs your wrist, shocking you, but you don’t falter. You watch him carefully as he sinks his mouth down the chamber until it hits the back of his throat.

You hate him.

You hate how easily he can take any ounce of power you feel over him and turn it to nothing but a grandiose idea. A fleeting thought that you could make him tremble and weep before you. Maybe even apologise and promise to change because he’s the one scared of you for a change. But you should have known he’d never let you have that over him.

Hell, he won’t even let you embarrass him.

“I should fucking kill you.” you start to cry, thinking back to how he’s treated you tonight alone. He hasn’t even broken a fucking sweat. You thought you might be able to humiliate him like this. Making him choke and sputter around the gun like he’d made you with the dildo, just to see heat sear through you and add to the already burning shame you felt having been caught.

But instead, you watch him as he takes the gun as far as he possibly can. His stare is still lidded and hazy with lust and adoration for you. He does it a few times, repeatedly, and somehow still with a fucking smirk on his face.

He holds your hands still, pulling away from the gun as an obscene amount of drool pours from his mouth and down his chin. And then, he finally does begin to hack up choking breaths. Despite it being almost entirely on his terms, the feeling of cold, hard polymer clogging up his airways proved to be too much for even him to withstand for too long.

“Did you really think you could embarrass me like that?” he asks, sincerely. “You really are pathetic.”

“Megumi I—”

“Good thing you’re daddy’s stupid little girl, my pretty li’l airhead.” he grins, snatching the gun away from you. Your back slides down against the wall as you watch him fiddle with the gun, pulling out the magazine with a sadistic fucking snarl on his face. “The safety was on the whole time. And there aren’t even any bullets in here. You’re s’fucking stupid. It’s adorable.”

“I can’t do this anymore.” you sob into your hands. He watches you for a moment, not an inkling of remorse lingering in his body as he sees you crying inconsolably. You feel his fingers dig into your arms and pull you towards him.

Quiet protests die the instant he throws you down onto the bed. You’re underneath him once again, but you feel even more trapped as he shows no intention of letting go of the gun. He aims it between your eyes and you can’t stop crying.

His choking was unrelenting in the taxi.

And now he has a weapon that could end your life in an instant.

But would he? Is he capable?

“I’m sorry… I love you, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” you weep, you don’t think you’ve ever cried so loudly or so hard in your life. You wouldn’t be surprised if a vein was bulging in your forehead, and you can without a doubt feeling a migraine bursting through your brain. But you can’t stop, you can’t stop crying. “Megumi I love you, I’m sorry.”

You know it’s empty and you know the safety is on because he told you so. And Megumi is always honest with you, isn’t he? And still, you’re panicking. You’re worried that he’ll pull the trigger and somehow wills a bullet into existence simply because he often gets what he wants in life.

He keeps the gun aimed at you until your head is resting on the pillows still remaining against your headboard. He’s donning a facial expression you’ve never seen from him before. A stoic yet somehow manic stare as he watches you cry and plead for your life beneath him like he’s some sort of God.

His expression doesn’t falter as he turns the gun and aims it at his temple. You’re screaming now. You dread to think what your neighbours think. It’s not like they’ve never heard you two fighting and fucking before, but it must be concerning for them to hear.

“Megumi I’m sorry! Please!” you wail, fear stabbing through you as you see him begin to shake. You close your eyes, expecting the worst yet still begging with him to see sense and stop this.

He lowers the gun again, his eyes wander to follow it as he drags the cold weapon between your clothed tits and down your body. You shudder as you feel him use it to move up your dress and exposes your still bare cunt, having not moved your panties back into place.

You feel the chilled polymer dip between your folds.

“P-Please…” you beg, hoping he won’t put it in you. Your eyes screw shut as he moves it, sliding it through your soaking flesh again and again as butterflies soar through your stomach. He pulls the trigger, the vibration almost assaults your clit, despite the empty clacking filling the room. “Hnnff—”

“You’re so wet f’me… or is it just the gun? Is it turnin’ you on, princess?”

“N-No, please. I don’t wanna play with it anymore, d-daddy.” you tell him, each hitched breath you take scratching your throat. Your cries still evident as you gasp and plead with him to finally stop. You should never have pulled it on him, you should have known he’d do this.

He moves from you, opening the drawer you’d taken it from and puts it back inside. Even though it’s gone, out of his reach, you end up crying tears of relief as he places gentle kisses against your forehead and cheeks.

“You’re such a good girl, y’know? Did so well… proud of you, baby.” he whispers, and you hate yourself. You hate yourself because you’re brimming with confidence after he tells you he’s proud. Your heart crescendos to a place you know there’s no going back from now. Even after almost threatening to end your life; you’re still in love with Megumi Fushiguro.

You’re too tired.

Emotionally exhausted and physically defeated. There’s no fight left in you anymore as you feel him carefully peel away your dress from your body. He rolls the top down to your midsection, exposing your breasts to him and your still hardened nipples. He does the same with the skirt, fully revealing your glittering cunt and what a drippy mess he’s turned you into.

No one makes you wetter than he does.

He pushes your thighs apart, and lightly spanks your pussy to steal a quiet whimper from you. It’s not a punishment by any means, he just wants to make sure you’re still here with him. Still relishing this moment. Still honoured by the fact he’s even giving you the time of day to play with you like this. To satiate the burning need to be toyed with until your mind goes blank. He’ll do it for you, and it’ll take no time at all.

He kisses down from your left knee towards the apex of your thighs. He’s admiring his handiwork on your body as he does. Purple bruises he left you before your last fight have begun to turn greenish yellow as they heal.

You love his little reminders of who owns your body.

He hurts you so good. And you wouldn’t feel conquered without the bruises that his tenacious touch bestow upon you. You sink into the mattress as his tongue laves over the doughy skin of your thigh, reminding you where every single bruise is.

You gasp, back arching off the bed as you feel him insert a thick long digit into your sopping entrance. He’s slow, prodding and twisting deeper and deeper. He can make you cum like this, and you think you might gush as he teases the sweet spot buried within.

“What are you—?” you start, watching him push your legs further apart as he suckles at your clit. You feel the fingers on his free hand trace along your skin, the sensitive bruises almost pulsating beneath his touch. The way your head throws itself back seems like an out of body experience. An involuntary response to the way his finger pokes harshly into a particularly nasty looking bruise. “Hnng— fuck, daddy!”

He spanks your clit before swiping over it rapidly with the tip of his tongue. Your fingers lace between black tendrils of hair and pull as you deliquesce into the empyrean feeling that only his tongue has ever offered you.

Your mind is stripped bare as he continues his assault. Manipulative fingers push carelessly yet purposefully into your ageing bruises to extract those ethereal moans from your weak little throat.

“’m gonna c-um, daddy.” you groan, eyes fluttering white as he presses harder into your marked body.

“Show me.” he whispers, breath fanning across your sex as he speaks. “Show daddy how a slut cums.”

Every inch of your body feels tarnished and stained by him. With him. A cloying film embedded to your skin that is purely the work of Megumi Fushiguro. His insults as well as his loving touch. The fear as well as the adoration. Even his eyes ravishing you with nothing but a salacious stare leave their mark on you.

His tongue doesn’t stop as your cunt begins to spasm. He feels how your pretty pussy pulsates against his greedy face. You cum hard and coat the lower half of his face in a shimmering gleam. He’s loud, unable to hide his pleasure as he begins to hump into the mattress at the sight of you coming undone for him. It extends your own pleasure, hearing how fucking noisy he is purely from giving you head.

You hate him.

He’s so vile.

But you can’t help wanting to make him proud.

You can’t stop feeling proud when you’re a good girl for him.

And seeing him like this makes you think that he might actually love you. His eyes are definitely dotted with hearts, now, as he savours the taste from devouring your essence. There are two words lodged in your throat. Two stupid little words that you would do anything to choke down and forget right now. Maybe he won’t care, not when he’s like this. Not when he’s pussy drunk and utterly enamoured by your mere existence.

“Kiss me…” you almost suffocate as you speak, tears spilling down your cheek as your cheeks burn with heat and shame. Your eyes scrunch closed, preparing for a barrage of insults from him. You know he’s going to call you stupid, pathetic. Maybe even an airhead again.

But it doesn’t come.

He finds his strength, holding his body up on his knuckles as he drags his body up yours like a wild beast. He lowers himself, his lips locking perfectly against yours before he cups your cheek. Why isn’t he always so soft and gentle with you? You feel yourself cry more as he swipes his thumb softly across your cheek as he kisses you. His tongue teases yours, licking it and smiling when you can’t quite keep up.

You know he loves you.

Why else would he do this?

Why else would you allow this?

He pulls away, familiar green eyes staring into yours as he studies you. They’re intimidating, clinquant. The most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. He wonders if you know he thinks the same about yours.

“You want me to put it in, don’t you?” he asks. He chuckles softly as he notices you nodding before he’s even finished his sentence. Your eyes are pleading and desperate, and he’s never been one to deny you of him when you’re so needy and polite. He stands on his knees again, unbuckling his belt slowly while he examines you. The way your hips roll in anticipation, the way you’re biting your lip and forcing yourself to not allow your fingers to dip between your thighs to toy with your clit. It’s too much. It’s too long to wait as he undoes the button and pulls down the zipper. You’re almost salivating when he finally frees his cock. “Missed me that bad, hm? Missed daddy’s cock, didn’t you?” he asks, ignoring the fact he knows the answer is obvious.

“Y-Yeah…” you struggle to speak. To think as your mind runs rampant with so many sex flashbacks you have; courtesy of the very cock you’re ogling. It’s thick with gorgeous veins and flushed with the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. “Need it— need your daddy cock.” you tell him, your chest jittering with hitching breaths as you try and maintain some semblance of composure.

You’re far from composed.

You’re nothing more than a mammal, burning with a white-hot intensity from trying to control your basic instincts. The primal urge and need to fuck. He’ll help you, though. You never need to worry about those needs being neglected while Megumi has nothing but you on his mind.

The pleasure is blinding as he presses his tip against your entrance. He pushes and pushes until he’s fully sheathed in your welcoming cunt. His cockhead rests at your sweet spot, and you know he’ll waste no time in forcing your vision to white out as he fucks you.

His fingers wrap around your throat, the prettiest necklace you own, and he squeezes tight. It’s not without reason. It isn’t just to give you more bruises or to cut off your air supply. He wants to keep you focused. Focused on him. He dips his head down to slot his tongue inside of your mouth once more. It’s a sloppy, drool induced kiss that shows no signs of stopping as he rocks his hips against you. His cock slamming deep and hard against your g-spot.

You can’t talk.

The only words that swirl around your brain are expletives anyway.

His kiss is suffocating and so is his grip on your neck. He releases you, slightly, giving you the chance to breathe once more. You can barely sense where you are, you don’t know if your eyes are open or closed as the only thing occupying your mind is his cock slamming into you and bringing you to your second release of the evening.

You’re brought back to reality, though, as he lightly taps your cheek a few times before slapping you hard.

“L-Love you, daddy.” you pant, you moan for him again and again until drool leaks from the corner of your mouth. You don’t care, you don’t even notice. And the sight is making him feral as he realises how there’s truly no one for you but him.

There’s no one for him but you, either.

“Fuck.” he grunts, knowing he’s going to cum sooner than he’d anticipated. He could stop fucking you, of course, but he can’t think of a worse fate. He wants to cum. He needs to cum inside of you and flood your pretty insides with his seed. He needs to make his mark on you and remind you who you fucking belong to. “’m cumming, baby, auh—”

“D-Don’t stop!” you warn him, desperate to reach your peak with him. You try to keep him in place, your legs wrap around his back and your fingers claw into his porcelain skin. He groans, quietly, hissing as you drag your fingers across his back deep enough to draw blood. He doesn’t mind, how could he when he leaves you covered in bruises at any given opportunity? If he marks you, he owns you. If you mark him, you own him.

And he wouldn’t want to belong to anyone but you.

“S’perfect… so fuckin’ perfect f’me. Unnff— oh, oh fuuuuuck.” he finishes, still pistoning his hips to fuck his sperm deeper inside. He’d knock you up in a heartbeat if you let him. Not because he wants to be a dad. Not because he wants to have a family with you. But he wants everyone to know you’re his. He continues to moan as he imagines you with a big swelling bump and everyone knowing that he is the cause.

You can’t ever leave him.

He’ll go mad without you.

“Such a good girl… look so pretty when you cum on daddy’s cock.” he tells you. He dips a hand between where you’re joined and rubs torturous circles into your throbbing clit. Your body jolts relentlessly from the aftershocks, unable to withstand the teasing.

His touches slow, and he pulls out as you begin to catch your breath. Your breathing deepens as you feel him part your pussy with two fingers so that he can watch his seed drip out of you and onto the mattress below. He smiles, brimming with pride that he did this to you. That no matter how much you claim to hate him, he’ll always be able to do this to you.

He collapses by your side. He’s staring up at the ceiling as your bodies shine with sweat and sex. He’s panting, loudly, with the biggest smile on his face you’ve ever seen. You’re staring at him. Trying to understand what actually goes on in that fucked up head of his.

But you never will.

So, you stare up at the same ceiling as he is and keep your thoughts to yourself. Where does this leave you, now? You never said you were back together, but you think he might have already decided.

But it was always going to end up like this.

You kick up a fuss and banish him to his dads house. But he always comes back. Always. And it’s because you want him back. Because you are too weak willed to stay away from him and do what you know is right. You could move on. You could fall in love with someone that doesn’t play mind games and make your life miserable.

But you love him.

You’re so stupid, because you love him.

“I love you, Megumi.” you whisper.

He’s quiet, he’s thinking.

“I know.”

2K notes · View notes

yikimiki · 6 months

Text

>> bones and ashes

⚔️ sukuna x fem!reader | warnings for: violence, mentions of death, possessiveness (sukuna is as evil as they come so basically every red flag under the sun), non-con that turns into dub-con (Stockholm syndrome), mentions of virginity loss, anatomically impossible size difference (if u know what I mean), blood play, etc | around 5-6k words | also important to note that I absolutely assassinated the canon lore in some points but bare with me

Sukuna doesn’t really have the ability to love. But he thinks he gets close enough when it comes to you. Of course, in his own twisted, macabre way.

Sukuna isn’t familiar to the concept of fondness, let alone anything more profound or meaningful than that. He knows want, desire, possession, curiosity even. But none of those feelings have ever tilted towards the side of affection, nor does he want them to. They’re all narcissistic pulses that keep pushing him forward — towards more power, more control, more of what he can become. He’s not even fond of his own abilities. Arrogant? Perhaps, but not fond. He can’t be fond of something he knows is not at its peak yet, that would just be weakness.

And Sukuna is everything but weak.

He sees you in a cold winter morning and he does what he knows best: he takes. Takes your pride, your virginity, your blood. Takes you like he took the lives of the rest of your village, paints your skin red and watches as the tears wash it away. Sukuna takes and takes until you have nothing left to give, just like he has done countless times before and yet… this time, something switches.

This time, he decides to let you live. Trapped in a dark cell, of course, but alive regardless.

The days move slowly, and you learn to mark their passing by the loud, clanking sound of a metal dish being thrown through a cracked door. The food is mostly raw meet and, after a few days of disgust, you cave in and eat a little of it. Not enough to be satisfied, not even close, but enough to keep you alive for at least a few hours longer.

Sukuna comes by in irregular intervals, and you soon give up on trying to find a pattern in his visits. You know it’s him from the way the door creaks open even further to accommodate his size, and you watch as his large shadow observes your movements for a moment before he kicks the disgusting plate towards you. Most of time time he’s there, you force yourself to eat, afraid of what should come if you turn down his unspoken commands. Once he seems satisfied, he exits without a word.

There is one single advantage in being in a windowless, isolated cell: you can’t hear what goes on up there. You’ve heard enough the day that Sukuna came to your village — the shattering screams, the pleads for mercy, the babies crying, the sound of wood and bone breaking almost too similar to differentiate. You saw creatures beyond your realm and heard awful whispers and threats; held you family as they died and gave up as the snow beneath your hands became as red as the burning sky above. And you know enough about Sukuna’s legend to be aware that it wasn’t an isolated incident.

When evil incarnate arrives, there’s not much you can do but surrender.

Though, when it comes to the legends, you thought that his palace was more of a manner of speak than an actual location. Once again, though, you’ve heard enough legends to know when to stop inquiring about the details.

Sukuna comes in after a week with a plan and a cloud of amusement over his head — frankly, given the state you were in, he thought you would be dead by now. Your stubborn hold on life is as impressive as it is pathetic.

“You looked so small when I first saw you,” his thunderous voice breaks the silence. There’s no food in his hands this time, only the fire cracking behind his form. You’re sitting down on the cold floor, back against the wall, and you don’t even bother looking up at him. “You look even smaller now.”

You don’t answer, because you don’t know what to say. Of course you’re smaller — you’re weak, starving, lacking movement and sunlight. Every muscle in your body aches and the aftertaste of dried blood never leaves your mouth. Smaller is a compliment; you wish you were just bones and ashes by now.

Sukuna takes a heavy step inside the dark chamber. “I killed everyone you’ve ever loved that day,” he says, bluntly. There’s no amusement nor sorrow in his tone — it’s a neutral statement. He lowers himself to your level and, on the corner of your eyes, you see his four arms. He is so wrong, even in a physical sense. Like the scar of something that shouldn’t even exist. “And yet… you live. Do you want to know why?”

You sneer. “I wish you’d just let me die.”

He chuckles, and one hand meets the side of your head. His fingers dig into the dirty, messy strings and pulls on the roots. There are tears on the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let him see them. “That’s exactly why you’re alive,” he says. “I knew you were ready to die when I saw you — all bloodied up, on your knees in the snow. It was quite a sight.” Sukuna’s voice is a malicious whisper as he comes even closer to you — he smells rotten. The tongue that licks up your cheek makes you want to puke. He tastes you the same way as he did on the first day, and you have no idea what he’s searching for. “Tell me, why were you so ready to give yourself to me? Most try to plead at least.”

“Plead for what? Your mercy?” The sarcasm is clear through your tone. The words you mean to say are knotted in the base of your throat and the odor Sukuna reeks is making you dizzy; making you remember everything that came before this. “I— I didn’t have anything else to live for,” you stutter. “You killed… you killed my mother, my father, my baby brother… why would I want to live without them? Why would I humiliate myself asking for mercy from a creature that clearly doesn’t have any to spare?”

Through anger, you look up at him. His eyes are flames bursting through the darkness, and they shine as your words settle on his skin. “Do you only live for love, my little dove?” He asks. “What a purposeless life you have.”

“Do you only live for hate?” You ask back before you can hold your tongue. Somewhere in your mind, you know that he’s capable of unimaginable evil, but you are beyond the point of caution. “What a purposeless legacy you’re leaving behind.”

This angers him. The corners of his mouth twists as he speaks. “You people fear me. Even the strongest of sorcerers doesn’t dare to go against me.”

“I pity you and your ridiculous need for destroying what isn’t yours,” you spit. “And I hate you for keeping me alive. I hate you for everything you’ve done to me and to the people I love. And I hate that you even dare to come here and talk to me like I’m the smaller person for daring to care about something.”

The hands on your hair tighten and he pulls your face against his. Sukuna’s forehead is a furnace against yours, his eyes burn into your soul. “You little insect, I could kill you with a snap of my fingers if I wanted to.”

Your voice shakes but you say it regardless: “Do it, then, what are you waiting for?”

“No,” his answer is more cruel than death could ever be. And he knows that. “And you know why?”

“If you are keeping me alive to have your way with me, so be it, have it,” you say. The tears are obvious now. You wonder if he can smell how fearful you really are. “Violate me like you did before, I don’t care anymore, but just don’t keep me alive just to waste me away.”

His lips are touching yours now, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. Sukuna’s chest is heaving like he’s in the middle of a battle, his voice like a roar in your ears. “Then ask. For. My Mercy.”

“I w-would n-never…”

“Ask!” It’s a loud command that crashes against you like a wave. You sink like there is no adrenaline in your body to keep you afloat; the anger that moved you before is no longer within your reach.

The truth is clear: you’re human. He’s a curse — the king of curses, older than you could ever imagine; probably even more powerful than the legends you’ve heard. His eyes say that there are fates worse than death and you believe them. And maybe, just maybe, if you play by his rules, he’ll grow tired of you and let you wither away.

“P-Please,” you are sobbing now, tears falling down like a cascade. Sukuna licks them and hums in satisfaction, watching as you break apart into a mountain of hiccups and trembling limbs. “Please just… have mercy on me. I’ll do whatever you want just — please, stop torturing me like this.”

“Aw,” he coos. “Was that so hard?”

You want to say that yes, somehow, that took everything still left in you. You want to say that if he wanted to break your spirit, congratulations, he’s done it. But you don’t get the chance.

Sukuna kisses you with the same ferocity you expected, sharp teeth crashing against yours and tongue exploring your mouth with no prior warning. He groans as he tastes you — you, the blood in your food, the salt of your tears — and suddenly it’s all that he will ever crave again. You whimper against his lips as his two lower arms crawl up your thighs and hold onto your hips, pushing you against him as he stands up and presses you against the wall. You feel more caged now than you have felt these past few days.

“Silly little human,” he raps against your lips, then licks your cheek for more of your precious tears. He realizes how much he likes to make you cry. You wince and give out a little sob, which only makes him smile. Finally, his grip on your hair loosens. “What is my name?”

You blink, dumbfounded by the sudden question. “S-Sukuna…?”

He pouts. “Say it like you mean it or I won’t be so nice.”

“Sukuna,” you say more firmly this time.

“There we go, that’s a good girl,” he says. “See how things just work better when you don’t misbehave? Hm?”

You nod. He doesn’t like it. “Y-Yes, I see, I’m sorry.”

“Very good.” The hand that was on your hair moves to hold your face, and it’s so huge that you feel like it would crush your skull with one single movement. As the other two arms hold onto your thighs, the fourth limb squeezes your breast. “Now, this is what’s going to happen, my pretty little human,” Sukuna starts, “I will have my servants take you to my chambers. You will be washed, clothed, and taken care of. They will feed you proper human food this time, whichever it is that your heart desires. How does that sound?”

Sounds like a trap. “And, in return, what do I have to do for you?”

“What do I have to do for you…?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Sukuna,” you complete.

“There’s my perfect little girl,” he says. You hate that something inside you likes the praise. “You will have to wait for me there. Do whatever you prefer, but don’t leave my room. Any attempt at escaping or killing yourself will be futile, and I’ve already warned every single curse that your death will result in a much more dire future for them. So you will be brought back to me. And I promise I won’t be so nice.”

“I understand… Sukuna,” you correct yourself quickly. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

The hand on your breast squeezes tighter, and you bite your lip so you don’t complain. “I knew I was right when I brought you here, something made me spare you. Yet, I don’t know what it is just yet.”

Sukuna is a looming threat above you, his limbs trapping you, and his deep voice is like thunder about to break. You know why so many fear him — you fear him too. And the sooner you act like it, the sooner he’ll grow tired of you. Sooner he’ll realize he was wrong in bringing you into his fortress.

He smirks. “But I believe I’ll discover soon enough.”

- ⚔️ -

Sukuna’s chambers are as spacious and monstrous as himself — corners switching and adjusting like breathing flesh; furniture morphing into different shapes; the weird odor of something old; the feeling for something lurking. The large windows show a world between worlds; a reality that doesn’t seem right no matter how long you stare at it. His palace is in a dimension you can’t reach, and you give up on trying to understand it. If anything, the more you wonder about it, the more you shake under the weight of the sheer power it must take to keep it all existing like solid matter.

Your passage of time is morphed and unreliable, but you would guess that a couple weeks have passed by the time that you come to terms that, perhaps, Sukuna isn’t as easy to bore as you first expected. The fire in his eyes doesn’t seem to diminish as he sees you — if anything, his eagerness to have you all to himself only seems to expand — and the way he takes care of you makes you realize that he isn’t planning on letting you die anytime soon.

Life in his chambers is far more comfortable, you admit, but it’s a prison nonetheless. Still, you can’t say that you are mistreated. In his chambers, you are bathed and clothed, well-fed and pampered. You soon come back to your normal weight and the fatigue leaves your body; there is more space to move, more things to do. The curses that come to check on you seem to be strangely kind and human-like, though you know it’s out of fear and not out of worry, and they keep your mind occupied with several stories and legends as the days move on.

Sukuna is more absent than you would have imagined, conquering and killing as often as he can. When he finally comes to you he is clean, recently bathed, but you can still see he is fresh from a battle, some mindless corruption beyond the horizon that you would rather hear nothing about. There are shallow scars and deep cuts that heal unreasonably quickly; dried blood that hasn’t quite washed away and ashes beneath his fingernails.

You ask whose village he has attacked this time, but he says it doesn’t matter, because there are no survivors.

“I never leave any survivors,” he completes, kissing your forehead, “besides you, my little human.”

You don’t push beyond that information, but the feeling of being special, chosen, starts to blossom like a dangerous rose inside your chest. It stings and stings, but grows regardless, and you see yourself less able to fight against his possessive claims. You start to enjoy them. You start to wonder if life beyond those walls is worth fighting for when you seem to have everything you would ever wish for right here.

You can always tell when Sukuna is about to arrive in this world because the atmosphere switches into something darker, heavier. The air seems thicker and the clouds beyond your windows start to bleed into a deep shade of red. Sukuna returns with the apocalypse on his back, and, when he does, he uses your body as he pleases.

Like the room around you, there is constant change. Sometimes it hurts like hell; sometimes it’s pleasurable. Sometimes you wish it would just end and you end up crying in despair; sometimes you look at him like you might get used to feeling him inside of you. Some days, Sukuna is kinder, more patient, taking time to adjust you to his enormous size and even makes sure that you enjoy it before reaching his end; fucking you full of his cum until you can’t think of one single thing besides him. Other days, you know he is angry just by the way he walks through the door — and, in those days, you are left bleeding and bruised as he uses your body in every single way until he’s close enough to satisfied. That, on itself, can take a long, long time.

You realize that, during those violent days, he could use one of his curses to please himself, but he prefers to use you — because you bleed, you cry, and you suffer. As long as your pain exists, his interest is unwavering.

However, like everything else, you adapt, get used to it. Routine becomes familiar and you learn the tell-tale signs of his rancid mood; learn how to make it a little better and what things to avoid. You stop thinking about getting away — you don’t even have anywhere else to go — and start longing for his presence as he takes more time to come back home. Sukuna is warm, safe; next to him you know you are shielded from any harm. When he appears, no one dares to look or touch you, no one speaks until they are spoken to. Just by being in his gravitational pull, you are protected and no harm will ever come your way again.

Even if it hurts, you start hoping that he won’t get tired of you.

Sukuna, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure how he feels about it all.

It’s not love — he has gone over that one a few hundred times already, has marked off every possible scenario and imagined every possible feeling, and he is sure it isn’t love. To be frank, he doesn’t even think he’s capable of it even if he wanted to, he sold his soul too long ago to even remember how normal humans love. But if it’s not love, it’s something similar — a kind of tenderness, fondness. He has a soft spot for you, to put it bluntly. Though not in the typical sense.

Sukuna adores you like a painter adores his favorite canvas; like an exotic bird in a cage — he adores you with possession, obsession, with the knowledge that you can’t ever get away from his grip. He is fond of you in a way that he would murder anyone who would even dare to touch what is his; but would never set you free. He can hurt you, he can tear you into pieces and build you to his liking. Sukuna can kiss you or bite you; hug or break you, but it’s because you’re his little pet and no one else’s.

He is fond of the way you bend for him; the way you look at him with sheer adoration in your eyes even after he has taken everything from you. He is fond of the way that only he could kill you; that your small life is in his hands and you thank him for it. Sukuna is fond of the way your tight little cunt stretches so wide to take his fat cock; lives for the little whimpers you give out and the tears that stain his satin sheets when he finally allows you to cum for him. If he could crawl inside your soul, he would. If he could take it and eat it and have you forever, he would.

He doesn’t know why he craves you so much, but he knows that nothing else gives him the same high anymore.

So he keeps you.

It’s a heavy stormy night when he comes back the next time, and his room is only illuminated by a few candles and the lightening from outside. You’re in his large bed, looking as small as that day in the snow, and there is a touch of worry in your eyes that he doesn’t miss. But he ignores it.

“Undress,” he commands.

You rush to do as he says, throwing the faint fabric over your head. It falls to the ground as Sukuna walks towards the bed, his massive weight making it dip under his knee as he leans closer to you.

“My pretty little doll,” Sukuna muses. “Missed me?”

He always asks that. And your answer is always the same.

“So much, Sukuna.”

It’s more honest every time.

He hums, satisfied, and smirks as he pushes your hair away from your face. “I have something to tell you, and I think you will like it,” Sukuna says. You look at him with wide eyes as he settles over you, his four arms caging your body as you lay down. The mouth on his stomach open and closes, a large tongue coming out before it vanishes again — it always does it when he’s particularly excited. “Would you like to know what it is?”

You know he will tell you regardless. Like all the tales of his battles, he lives for the glimpse of horror in the back of your eyes. “Yes, Sukuna.”

“Seems like you are famous now,” he starts. You furrow your eyebrows. “Sorcerers are trying to save you. The poor little human girl that Sukuna took as a prisoner months ago.” He kisses your neck, then licks the skin. You shiver — months, it has been months then. “Two of them tried to enter my domain today, stupid little insects,” he continues. Another hand lands on your exposed breast, playing with your nipple. “You have no idea how enraged that made me, my little human. To have someone try to take you away from me; to try and to enter my domain and take you from me.”

His voice turns into a growl by the end of the sentence, and you feel the familiar pulse of terror running through your veins. He’s in a bad mood, that’s obvious, but there’s something hiding beneath that as well.

“What did you do to them?” You ask. “Did they get in?”

Sukuna chuckles darkly, and the hand that was on your breast now settles on your clit, massaging it softly. “I took care of them, my sweet thing, of course,” he says. Your breath hitches at the slow pleasure of his movements, and your eyes flutter shut. “No one will ever take you from me.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” you say without a thought. In your heart, you feel it’s wrong. But without him, you have nothing. “I’m yours forever, Sukuna.”

“I know you are,” he answers.

Sukuna holds you by the throat as he kisses you — not enough to suffocate you, but enough to make you a little dizzy. Your eyes cross mindlessly as his tongue invades your mouth; a deep groan coming from his chest as he tastes your lips. He always kisses you violently, possessively, like he wishes to suck your soul out of your chest. Beneath his size you can only shrink and hold onto his large biceps, the wetness between your legs growing as he takes what is his.

He pulls back, ignoring the string of saliva that connects you two. “Pretty little thing,” he muses, shoving his middle finger inside your mouth. “Suck for me.”

You do as he says and he smirks at the feeling of your pretty lips around his large finger. Soon enough, the same digit is invading your pussy, curling up so quickly that you see starts at your peripheral vision.

“Relax or it’ll hurt again,” he says — not like he cares about it. “I want you to remember tonight.”

“W-Why?”

“Because I’ll make sure that you’ll be mine forever,” he says, a devilish smile on the corners of his lips. “So no one can take you from me. No one would even try.”

Your breath is getting heavier, and you don’t even register what he’s telling you — he could do a billion things to you and you’d still let him. The time spent only in his company made your resolution vanish, and you became exactly what he wanted you to: another possession for him to do as he pleases. Because of him, you have nothing else. Besides him, you have nothing.

“You’re not cumming around my finger tonight,” he says and quickly removes his hand from your cunt. You whine at the sudden emptiness, walls spasming around nothing, but you know better than to protest. “It’s going to be around my cock, you got it?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you say.

“Good girl,” he muses. His lower arms move to undo his pants as his mouth attacks yours once again. His sharp teeth drain blood from your lips and he groans at the metallic taste; drinks the little sob of pain you let out. “You’re all fucking mine. Forever,” he growls, “I’ll make you live forever with me.”

Months ago, that would be torture. But now, “It sounds like heaven, Sukuna,” you say. “I love you.”

Your vision falls to where his hands are working. His cock is massive, bigger than your forearm, balls swinging out of his shorts and falling heavy under his shaft. Your entire body tingles in anticipation as he strokes himself, aligning his cockhead with your opening. “Tiny fucking cunt,” he curses, rubbing it against your soaked folds. “I’ll train you to take my cock even better than now, kitten.” Your mouth falls open as he starts to push in and it hurts — no matter how many times you’ve taken him, it always burns. “Way too fucking tight for my fat cock, you know that?”

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll do better-“

He chuckles. “I fucking love it.”

In one strong motion, he shoves himself as deep as he can, pressing against your cervix as you whine at his size. It isn’t fair — it’s so thick you can’t even breathe, you can feel him in your stomach, pressing and pulsing until you can’t think of anything but the sheer size of his massive cock inside your poor little hole. Your walls hurt to accommodate his girth, stretching as far as they can, but it never seems like it’s enough.

“It’s t-too big, Sukuna,” you whine. And it is. You know he must be doing something to your body so you can even be alive right now, because it’s not humanly possible to take such a big cock. “I c-can’t…”

His hand lands on your head and pulls at the roots. “You are my special little human, my obedient little girl,” he reminds you. His cock throbs inside you and you whimper, the small movement alone makes you drool. “You will do anything I tell you to do.”

You nod. “Y-Yes.”

“So when I tell you to take it….” He rolls his hips even deeper and you call his name so loud that you’re sure the entire world will hear it. “You’ll fucking take it.”

You don’t even have the ability to answer as he starts to pound deep inside your soaked cunt, hard and violent, as he is. Your vision is blurry with tears as you look down to see his massive cock bullying itself again and again inside your cunt, taking everything you have to give.

“Look at me when I claim you,” Sukuna warns and you do it instantly. Your legs wrap around his hips and he squeezes your ass so hard it will bruise. There’s a malicious glint in his red eyes that never quite goes away, no matter how much he tries, and now it’s deadset on you. “My precious little girl,” he calls, voice strained with pleasure. You can tell from the way his cock throbs that he is close, but it doesn’t matter. He just keeps going. “You told me you love me. Do you only live for love, kitten?”

“I live f-for loving you, S-Sukuna,” you respond automatically. “I live for you.”

Sukuna groans like an animal — he adores what a stupid little fuckdoll he has turned you into. He can never get tired of this; he can never let it get away. “You’ll die for me, kitten?”

You nod so quickly you get dizzy. “Yes, a-anything… I’m yours f-forever.”

He calls your name like he has never done before, a little insane, a little sweet. If the sheer size of Sukuna’s genitals aren’t anything to go by, he cums a lot — it oozes out of your cunt before he’s even halfway through, cock throbbing and leaking again and again until you’re filled to the brim. His huge balls smack against your ass as he continues to bully himself inside you, a little more desperate now, intoxicated by his own pleasure.

There’s no rest, there never is. He only takes and takes.

“I’ll make you mine,” he groans.

“I’m yours, Sukuna, I’m yours…” you repeat like a broken record, half-aware of your own voice through the loud moans and hiccups. You watch in ecstasy as he uses one of his sharp nails to cut the palm of his hand, blood oozing out of it and dropping on your breasts. It’s like you know what he will say even before he says it. “You want me t-to-“

“Drink it.”

Perhaps you should be scared, but you’re not. Your mouth opens without a second thought and he presses his large palm on your lips, muffling your moans and allowing the hot dark liquid to invade your tongue. Sukuna’s blood is thick and it tastes like poison, but you do as he says, liking his flesh and drinking it until he seems satisfied and takes his hand away.

It strikes your body like an arrow, straight through your chest and expanding like deep roots. You feel as his blood burns your insides, changing something in your very existence. It’s hard to think through the sensations — the pleasure building up, the venom running through your veins, the mixture of devotion and fear that dances inside your mind. Your vision is double, black around the edges, and you think you might be cumming but you’re not sure you can even feel your body anymore. Sukuna’s voice echoes muffled in the background, and you can see his mouth moving in slow motion, but you don’t understand his words. You think you are crying. You think you can’t breathe. You think you are dying and being born at the same time and you don’t know why you feel so grateful for it all.

Your lungs are on fire and your throat is dry. You try to speak, but can’t. You have the vague flashback of the time your uncle made you drink alcohol, it burns just the same, but this time, no one is laughing. This time, you’re dying.

“… at me.”

This time, Sukuna’s voice rings sharp and clear. You stare at him, confused, as the flames inside your chest slowly subside.

“Keep looking at me,” he repeats, commanding.

You try to nod, but your head doesn’t move. You can’t see the room around you anymore. “H-Hurts,” you manage to get out.

“I know,” he says, and there’s a touch of softness in his voice you don’t ignore. “Focus on me. I’ll make it feel better.”

And that’s what you try to do, even if your soul seems to be floating miles above your body. You look down at where he is still moving in and out of you, at the white-coated mess that drips from your hole and soaks your inner thighs. It doesn’t seem to hurt as badly now, like your body is changing to accommodate him even better — in fact, it feels like heaven.

You look up at him, dumbfounded. “I t-think I’m going to cum, Sukuna,” the words come easier now, and you feel like you can move again. Though, it still feels like a dream. “It’s so g-good.”

“Cum on my fat cock, then, make me proud,” he coos. You close your eyes and nod, trying to focus on the paradise that blooms between your legs. You feel every ridge and vein of his massive cock; hear the lewd squelching sounds of his cum leaking out of you. It comes to you faster than you would have imagined, washing through your body like a wave as you cry and shake miserably. “That’s my girl, fuck, there we go, that’s my perfect little girl.”

The spasming of your walls manages to milk more cum out of him and he groans loudly as he releases inside you once more. Sukuna cums so much it makes you breathless, filling you again and again until he’s satisfied and the sheets beneath you have no salvation left.

“There we go, take everything,” he says in a strained groan, “every fucking drop inside this tight fucking cunt.”

Sukuna looks absolutely insane above you — fucking his cock so hard into you that it seems like he will never have the chance again; eyes blown wide and his teeth clenched. You cum again, this time a little softer, as you feel his thick cock shoot a specially large amount of cum inside your pussy, and wait until he’s done using your body.

Eventually, he settles, pressing his forehead against yours and looking deep inside your eyes. The redness in them is shining like flames, watching every movement of your face.

“Feels weird,” you say. “I feel dizzy.”

He chuckles and removes himself from you. Another white-hot wave gushes out of your cunt, and he sits back to watch it drip. “There we go, it wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You swallow, your tongue is still numb inside your mouth. “It was horrible, Sukuna. I felt like I was going to die.”

Sukuna smiles and uses two fingers to push some of his cum back inside you. “I can promise you it was better than when I did,” he says, and you’re confused for a moment. “But now we don’t have anything to worry about anymore, my sweet thing. Those pathetic little sorcerers won’t want you.”

“H-How are you so sure?” You ask.

“Aw, my sweet, stupid little girl.” He pouts, condescending as always. “No one will want to save a curse now.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you…?”

“I told you.” Sukuna licks his own blood at the corner of your mouth. “You are mine forever.”

#sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna angst #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jujutsu smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #ryomen sukuna #smut #jjk smut

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coffeeshopguest · 2 months

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Hi! Can I request Sebastian from stardew valley during your honeymoon smut? If not, that’s totally fine

-✨🖤✨

ofc you can, I wasn't quite sure where to take it or lead into it, but I honestly really like how it turned out :) hope it was what you wanted :)

Farmer's Honeymoon

Word Count: 1520 Pairing: Sebastian x F!Reader Warnings: 18+, smut, smoking, fingering, unprotected sex, swearing, vaginal sex (should be all, lmk if I missed any!)

The wedding was beautiful, and you'd even convinced Sebastian not to smoke over the entirety of the service - the entire town had made it (which wasn't surprising, considering there was only about 30 people in the entire town). It was beautiful, perfect. Just what you had envisioned. Other than one, small, teeny problem.

It was summer. Sebastian thought that would be the perfect time to get married - and you'd tried to explain it wasn't. One - it would be too warm. But mostly for the second reason that you couldn't leave your farm. When you addressed this to Sebastian he shrugged it off. "We can always take a trip in the winter, I want to marry you in the summer. We can do a mini-honeymoon in town," and that was that.

And so it was. Sebastian and you were eloped in the town center, and after the celebration, you two headed back off to the farm. Sebastian officially moving in with you. Upon reaching the farm, he slid down onto the porch, staring out at the field. "We - we don't have to stay," you voiced, moving to sit beside him. "We could leave - save up and run away somewhere new and exciting."

Sebastian laughed, he fished out a cigarette from his jacket pocket, glancing at you, "mind?" he asked as he set it in his mouth.

"Go for it," you answered, he happily lit the cigarette, looking out at the sun dipping in the sky. He thought for a while about your words, perhaps tempted by the offer.

He took a long huff, blew it out, then spoke. "I wanna stay. I know all I used to talk about was leaving but...I don't know. It's home. Shitty, boring, dusty, small - but...home," he thought for a while. "Besides, your farm is here..." he added, he pondered what else to add. Taking along drag, flicking some of the ash down onto the dirt and stomping on it. "It looks pretty, I know I've seen it here or there but...it feels different at night. Calmer."

Your head fell against his shoulder, humming a little. You two sat while he finished his cigarette and then he stood, he gently offered you a hand. "C'mon," he said softly, "Wanna celebrate our marriage," he mumbled it, a small devious look overtaking his face. You raised an eyebrow but took his hand.

"What were you thinking?"

He tugged your hand, opening the farmhouse door. "What do you think I'm thinking?" he answered, basically dragging you across the house towards the bedroom. Sure, you two had done it a few times before marriage. Okay, a lot. But Sebastian seemed set on this being special. Once he'd reached the bedroom, he lightly guided you to the bed, laying you down on your back. "You want me to?" he whispered, eyes wandering you. Despite still being fully clothed, his gaze made you feel naked. Your head bobbed, words not forming. Sebastian's face fell ever so slightly. "Use your words, c'mon baby," he encouraged, leaning to kiss your lips. "Don't nod, tell me."

Over the course of your relationship with Sebastian you'd learned a few things. He needed words, confirmation, noise. He climbed onto the bed, slightly on top of you, eyes focused on you. Waiting.

"God...yes, please," you whispered out, his face formed a smirk, that was all he needed. After all this time he still needed a yes and it drove you up the wall with excitement.

He slowly leaned down, connecting your lips, his hands immediately reaching for you, tugging off any piece of clothing in his way, gripping what skin he came in contact with. Soft moans escaped him, slight groans. He pressed his clothed self against you, causing a soft reaction from you - a small whine. "More, need more," you insisted. He pulled back, examining what clothes he'd left you in. Just panties, his eyes wandered your naked form before he quickly and easily tore those off. Literally tore. "Seb~"

"It's okay, I'll buy you more," he assured, not at all phased by the action. He captured you in another kiss, hands moving to find your breasts. Grazing your nipple with his thumb, you pathetically lifted your hips trying to gain some sort of friction. He pulled his body a little further, watching your needy state. "Mh, god...so pretty," he mumbled. His hands moved down your body, slowly, reaching your thighs he spread your legs for him, examining your wet pussy. "So pretty," he repeated, slowly running a finger between your folds. You shivered, watching him.

"Seb- more...need more," you insisted pathetically, he didn't react immediately, finger lightly tracing around you, before he quickly shoved it in. Your body reacted quickly, a long guttural moan escaped you as your back arched a little.

"Fuck, I feel that," he grunted a little, "fuck he you're tight," he slowly pulled his out, glancing up at your face. Another thing he always did - watched. Watched for your reactions to know just what felt good and just what he needed to do. He slipped the finger back in, watching to see how you took it. You bit your lip to fight back the moan that erupted and in reply, he instantly shoved a second one in. "Oh come on, give me it, moan for me," he encouraged, his other hand rubbing softly against your clit - urging you to an orgasm.

"Oh, fuck - Seb," you whimpered out, his eyes locked on you, glancing down at your pussy, making sure he was pumping in and out well enough, watching your wetness soak his fingers. "Gon- gonna cum..." in reply, he pumped faster, rubbed harder. You gripped the sheets of the bed, moaning out Sebastian's name. And finally, you let go. Tightening around his fingers, he coaxed out the remainder of your orgasm before pulling his fingers out.

He wasted no time ripping off his suit, undoing the dress shirt, and tossing it to the floor. (He never cared for suits). The dress pants came next, falling to the floor you could finally see the extent of his bulge. He quickly removed his boxers, throwing them aside. He climbed fully on top of you, a hand gripping yours and lacing the fingers together. "Ready, baby?" he purred softly, never wanting to do anything you wouldn't want.

"Yes...yes," you answered, squeezing his hand. You whined when he moved his hand away, shivering as it traced its way down your body, to your hips. He lifted you slightly, positioning himself. "Condom?" you mumbled, looking at him. Eyes glazed, still coming down from your last high.

"Mind if I skip it tonight?" he asked, you shook your head.

"Fill me..."

He smirked, always loving when you gave an order. He would do his best to fulfill every desire you had, he slowly and gently pushed his tip against you. Eyes glued to your face. He gave you the tip first, you groaned out and Sebastian had to remind himself to take things slow. The urge to slam in and thrust as hard as he could was tempting, but he wanted to draw out the session and make you feel as good as he possibly could. So, as you adjusted, he took his time shoving in. Watching. Waiting. Once he was sure you were adjusted, he slowly pulled back out, slowly shoved back in. Your hands wandered, looking for his shoulders, his back. You gripped him with your nails, digging into his skin.

He groaned as your nails dug in, knowing you'd leave marks. "Mh, god...ready for more?" he whispered, you whimpered and nodded pathetically - and this time Sebastian didn't ask for words. His pace sped up, hands holding you firmly in place as his hips trusted. The room filled with sounds of your moans, his soft grunts, and skin against skin. He managed to last until your nails dug deeper into his back, clawing down it. "Can't-fuck can't hold it...cum for me baby..."

You didn't need the words, with one hard thrust from Sebastian you bit his shoulder to stop yourself from screaming and waking up the whole town. Walls clenching tightly around his cock. He grunted, slowing his pace, letting you cum all over him before he shot his load into you, a soft moan - almost a whimper - escaped him. He waited for a moment, head thrown back and eyes shut tight. "God...keep squeezing like that and I'm not gonna...gonna stop cumming.." he grunted out, when you both came down from the high he pulled himself out.

His eyes flickered to your pussy, dripping with a mix of your two's cum. "Fuck, you're so gorgeous," he mumbled, kissing your lips gently. "I'll clean you up, baby," he added, standing and heading for the bathroom.

Sure, it wasn't a trip away - but every day and night Sebastian made the honeymoon feel absolutely perfect.

tag list:

comment if you want to be tagged in future Sebastian fics!

#stardew valley #sdv farmer #farmer x sebastian #sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian #sdv x reader #stardew valley x reader #sdv smut #stardew valley smut #stardew valley sebastian #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian x female reader

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cowgirlcherrie · 10 months

Text

STARTEAM ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ volleyball! loser! ellie drabble

a/n: there is no plot for this it’s just a thought I haven’t been able to shake since seeing the amazing volleyball! ellie art by @caspervi ♡♡

volleyball! ellie art. support their work here!

update: also just realized @elliespeach has a wonderful volleyball! ellie fic and basically kickstarted the idea so support their work here too !!

content: 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, lowk saliva play if u squint bro, fem! water girl! reader

— song(s): STARTEAM by lastclass & byelilfly

Ellie was in timeout.

Well not literally, but being benched felt like she was. Suddenly she was 5 again and her teacher was moving her card to red, for her indecent behavior. Ellie wanted to whine, she wanted to fight back – bitch and moan. She had been putting in the work! Up in the gymnasium at the crevice of the glowing somber night to practice her bumping and setting; perfecting her spikes and it seemed as if she would never get to reach tranquility. She couldn’t be an ace, she couldn’t beat her opponents.

She was drenched in sweat head-to-toe — the fabric of her jersey sticking to her chest like glue. Beads of fresh sweat dripped down her forehead as she licked her dehydrated lips. She needed to breathe. But Ellie didn’t know breath control. She didn’t know stopping either, her routine was damaged, she was jaded and her brain was fuzzy the plays didn’t even make sense to her. Her brain was insanely flawed. Nothing but incoherent doodles as her coach yelled in her face to take 5.

All she knew was routine:

Wake up at 5 am. Go for a run at 7 am. Nutritious breakfast at 9 am. Practice 10-4 pm. A quick nap and muscle soak before a game.

All her hard work burned into ashes; eventually to dust and crumbs as it became nothing but a false sense of dedication. Sleepless nights and aching muscles just to be benched. Ellie was incandescent. Her eyebrows furrowed, cheeks a pulsing red – like clown makeup from the intensity. Her blood cells flowed healthily and her heartbeat was in the root of her ears like the pulsing of the music that kept her going. While some may say a body is a temple; her’s was a ticking time bomb ready to go off in any second.

Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes open, the sound of sneakers against the freshly polished floors made her eardrums bleed, similar to scraping a metal ruler against a school board.

Dropping her head as she looked down at her legs. Her thighs were drenched in sweat the shin guards cutting off any circulation, making her thighs look wonderfully plump and 10x more muscular. Ellie was becoming hyper-aware until a sudden tap on her back and a sweet toothache-inducing smell filled her nostrils.

It was you.

The water girl, her hero. Just the right person to fix her cravings. A thin white ridged paper cup in your hand with water filled to the brim as you held it out in front of you with a gentle smile. Ellie always thought your sweetness was ravishing. She thought her teammates were undeserving of such pleasure and authenticity from you. The other girls would dim your light – and by dimming it she meant flirting with you. Calling you sweetheart and asking to take you out to dinner which was followed by your rich voice telling them, “It’s unprofessional!” but she was too bashful to admit it; she wanted to do it too.

The word baby could not escape her lips without being immediately flustered by it, Ellie was too smitten and starstruck by you. Quiet and lightly spoken, hell she was called ‘Bitchless 7 Williams’ for a reason. Stuttering over her words, hands shakier than ever, her affection becoming aggression she wanted nothing more than to drag herself out. She wishes she could be more flirty, more outspoken; then just maybe she would have been lucky to snag you, her water girl.

You knew she could get down, she palpably could get rough with the right motivation. It was the way her anger transcended on the court, you were sure it would manifest in other places too. But part of you loved it, it turned you on, when you were alone at night, entangled in your duvet as you wondered what she would look like calling out your name. She was a fucking loser, a pathetic whiney player that still took the fall.

Initially, you thought you were sweeter; more gentle but Ellie was more bashful than you. She wasn’t like her teammates. Ellie didn’t make eye contact with you at all or call you names. She did, however, stare at your boobs for too long through your tightly fitting workout jacket that hugged every crevice of your body just right. Giving your boobs an extra push. It was perverted, but you caught her every time. Coincidentally that’s what got you hooked on her. You weren’t going to stop her.

Like a hound dog you could smell what she wanted, you never failed to see the drool finally dripping from her tongue that she masked by bringing up her cup with great speed as the stretchy saliva dripped down the edge of her fingers and her cup. You did notice how she would leave a sticky residue; her clear fluids all over the cup before handing it back to you. Running off right before you can get a word in.

“Hope you’re thirsty It took me hooours to pour this” you teased, holding out the cup towards Ellie with a smile. That soft grin of yours that easily made anyone swoon on you. Ellie caught herself doing it again. In a room with so many people, her team, friends, and family, she sent a quick look at your boobs before looking back at the sparkles in your eyes. Like diamonds and pearls; vibrant and warm. Lewd thoughts raced in her brain like gnats.

She was giving you teeth, as she took her shirt up; again, to wipe her forehead clear of the everflowing liquid.

“Oh yeah,” Ellie taunted back, with a smirk on her face. She wasn’t sure where this confidence was coming from, so she reached out to take the cup from you. Bringing the cup up to her lips as she tilted her head back, taking large gulps of the water not breaking eye contact with you. You saw the string of saliva again as she dropped the cup from her lips, taking a soft breath.

“More . . .” Her voice was breathy as if she ran a mile.

“More what?”

“More water…please?” Ellie pleaded, she spoke fast and in a whisper shaking the empty cup as she handed it back to you.

“Sure thing Els,” You confirmed taking the cup from her hands feeling the sudden dampness of her drool around the cup. Almost damaging to the deteriorating paper. “You got something here”

You pointed to your own chin with your pointer finger, as Ellie quickly rushed a hand up to wipe off any excess liquid with the back of her hands, fingertips covered in bandaids.

“Sorry,” it was a quiet whisper.

You turned to the back this time giving Ellie a full view of the way you looked in the short shorts — that were almost as tight as your top. Ellie had to look away. Almost as if she were being under surveillance, she had to behave; control her wandering eyes that betrayed her more than often.

Just as you were about to give Ellie the cup again, a shout from her coach filled the spacey gymnasium. With that simple shout, Ellie became a machine. Lifting her legs up forgetting about her water request and rushed back onto the court. If she was so lucky to have the chance, she’ll fetch the water from you later. Hopefully with a reward on her back.

Williams! Back on the court! Let’s try it again #7 Hustle!

#💭ᜊ cher thinks #cherry writes 🤍#ellie williams drabble #ellie williams #modern! ellie williams #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x reader #volleyball! ellie #modern au #ellie x you #ellie x reader #college! ellie williams #ellie williams smut #loser! ellie #loser!ellie #sub!ellie

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soulrph · 11 months

Text

chaotic unhinged lines from 2022-2023 (prompt edition).

basically in 2021 i made a list of prompts inspired by lines in tiktok videos and instagram reels that made me laugh so hard i cried! and now i have returned with another list! these may provide an alarmingly clear image of what my sense of humor is (aka broken) but i figure a little levity is always a good thing! more prompts are forthcoming, but in the mean time: bon appetit!

knowledge has always chased you, but you've always been faster.

no... no, that was mango apathy juice. from the farmer's market.

of all these people, you are the one i understand the least. i want to get to know you better, but like, not that much better.

i-i will CHEW YOUR MEAT!! WHAT are you doing?!

ooooh god, no, you wouldn't be long getting frostbit!

you are evil. like a hobbit.

WHY MUST YOU FAIL ME SO OFTEN?!?!!?

i have had a perfectly wonderful evening, but this wasn't it.

AHEM!! fill my cup.

may god ignore you like you ignored my greetings.

i will avenge you mister van gogh.

call off work bestie, we need you to solve a murder. here's fifteen dollars.

you're not in love. you may think you are, you dumb fuck, but you're not.

go ahead and put the ranch away.

sadly, "hopefully" doth butter no parsnips.

forget school, i want to be an italian sandwich.

you shouldn't skip work, you are a lawyer and he is a hamster.

you can stop roleplaying now. you're free.

her coupon game was so fucking raw.

i'm sorry guys... he's making a salad.

you could get a straight guy here if you learned to make a good pasta. i'll teach you how to make a risotto that'll get you married and out of my basement.

hey, do you want me to get together a plate of roast beef and hide it in our room so we can have night meats?

it's not the most ethical thing in the world, but in a pinch you can hand off a cursed object to basically any baby.

no, children, you're wrong. once upon a time, there was a piece of wood.

and i'm not saying she deserved it, but i am saying that god's timing is always riiiiight.

hydrate or die-drate, ya DICK!

why did the monkey fall out of the tree? because it was DEAD.

new york city is a fictional place written up by someone with a sinister mind and a knack for comedy.

this is grindr my guy.

wait, i didn't finish teaching you the difference between human and wolf anatomy.

it's time to tell your grandmother that she was wrong. do not be afraid.

vanilla vodka... you fucking child.

without ash to rise from, a phoenix would just be a bird getting up.

you are fucking alive. do what you want.

why are you cradling me like a baby, friend? this isn't how guys of my generation hang out.

i hope a hedgehog shits in your cereal, you difficult person.

you know, i am not as mean as i would like to be. and i think people should appreciate that more.

see, i am not a kangaroo.

well, i'd like to help, but... you see... not as much as i'd like not to.

rest in peace you fucking onion fairy.

when god sings with all his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

i fight for a seat in heaven, every. single. day.

map maker? can you find me somewhere on the map where this big man thinks he's the king?

you bald-headed demon...

so... there are 24 million pigs in australia... and 24 million people... so if you ever feel lonely, there's like, a pig out there that's sort of your cosmic twin.

remember, alcohol is god's apology for making us self-aware.

i'm straight!! stop CONFUSING me!!!!!

you guys want something to eat? because... i know we'll die if we don't eat.

he is a BIBLICALLY gorgeous man. i wanna feed him grapes. i wanna fan him with the frond of a date palm from the forests of Lebanon. i wanna find the alabaster vial of perfume oil that one woman broke for jesus and comb it through his hair. like... he's stressing me OUT.

i'm not sad! i'm freaking HUNGRY!

maybe, if we wait a little bit longer, a fuck will fall into my hand, and i can give it to you.

it's not my fault you thought you lived in this IKEA.

let's leave my mother out of this.

jason may kill people but he's not bad enough to kick a dog.

i run for LUMP!

oh no, i'm all out of caring, baby!

you don't think it mcbe that way... but it mcdo.

what is this enticing bowl of white?

serious question, do his nipples sparkle?

what in the reese's peanut butter fuck is going on here?

if your parents don't buy it, stop loving them!

i just hope you know just how much you've decreased productivity today.

that was poetry at its FINEST.

and if you let that motherfucker shenan ONCE, you best believe they're gonna shenanIGAN!

may god bless the dinosaur that died to make the fossil fuel that was treated to become petrol in the car that took her mom to the hospital to give birth to her.

that's modern milk for ya. what a time to be alive.

you have attachment issues. please fix it.

remember when people had secrets? we should bring that back.

the moon landing was an elaborate marriage proposal.

i don't like the cobra chicken.

i didn't know eggs were this expensive? it's time to lay my own, i fear.

so you're saying the reason i don't have a girlfriend is because i'm not a big enough threat yet.

god gave him a top lip, that's why he's so powerful.

it's a common mistake, but frankenstein was actually the author.

i finally got a pocket-sized diary!!! also i don't get the concept of life.

if a beautiful woman disagrees with me, i will immediately change my view. i've no principles.

how did you all end up married to such boiled potatoes?

if so much as one tear drops from their eye... i will slap you back into your mum.

you are ringing a phone that does not like to be rung.

look how Dr. doofenschmirtz had a fucked up childhood but didn't project his trauma onto his teenage daughter. he projected it onto a platypus.

it is mathematically impossible for you to get a wedgie.

i'm breaking up with you. i love you, it's just... i don't think you could protect me from a mummy.

if you can't do fractions....... you will fucking die.

that's right; in the year 1791, all of our bottoms were killed in a Big Bottom Massacre.

people always assume i'm mean. like CAN you BELIEVE THAT CRAP?! like WHAT would make you think i'm MEAN?! I'M THE NICEST PERSON ON THE PLANET!

the chocolate milk is strikingly overpriced and at the same time very easy to steal; another of god's little tests.

someone's gotta tell the waiter that i ordered mashed 'taters and it sure as shit ain't gonna be me.

if i had a week i couldn't list all the reasons that wouldn't work.

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #dialogue prompts #writing prompts

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baby-tini · 16 days

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Can you write where Dabi captures the reader and fucks her. But she thinks that if she would fight back it would hurt more so she just tries to close her eyes and disassociates. But Dabi sees this and not having it. He's like 'thanks for not fighting but your gonna stay with me while I fuck you. And since your so submissive I'll make you feel REALLY good'. Kisses her nose softly and proceeds to fuck her to almost a mind break.

A/N- sorry I've been M.I.A, I had the flu 😞 but thankfully it's gone and I'll be able too put out more content

TW- NONCON, abuse, brief mention of panic, self-blaming, blood, brief mention of a wound Being a hero was something you've always dreamed of, your whole family were heros. Your father was a pro and your mom was low-ranking but still amazing nonetheless. She only quit when she became pregnant with you, but your mother was an inspiration to you, always had been. So, when you graduated from UA and got your hero license it was the happiest day of your life. Your father took you to his agency, put in a good word for you. You were the shining star of his agency, climbing ranks pretty quickly and gathering a fan-base even quicker. Now, this wasn't your first patrol, but it was a new area. It sounded easy enough though, plus this was your first patrol without your father even though he had basically pleaded to come with you.. but this was your chance too show him you didn't need to be babied and you could protect yourself so you declined his offer and shut off your phone. You hadn't heard or seen any major villains in the area anyway. So, what could be so hard about walking around the city looking out for danger. Tokyo was so beautiful at night too, lovely pink sky tonight, no clouds in sight with birds soaring and chirping. It was so peaceful, you highly doubted that anything bad would happen

The air smelled pure, a nice beautiful breeze blowing your hair around, until... it started to smell smokey and your view of the rosy sky was obscured by azure flames, the extreme heat too close to your skin causing you to stumble backwards into a hard chest as a hand claps tightly against your mouth and nose. Cutting off the air flow to your brain and squeezing your cheeks together as your dragged into an alleyway away from the quiet street. You try to struggle against the man but you can't breathe and you're starting to panic, your nails clawing at his hand gather blood under them. You hear the man hiss in pain before your thrown into the brick wall, hitting your head off of it and falling to the floor as blood drips from the the on your temple. Trying to stand up proves to be more difficult then you thought as your vision turns blurry and your wound aches. You're gasping you realize, trying to suck in as much air as possible before you're kicked in the stomach and thrown a couple feet. You can't breathe in anymore as you groan out, the air coming out in choked huffs. Then he's on top of you, fisting at your hair as you try an' catch your breath, pushing at his chest but he just shoves you back down effortlessly. When your eyes do finally open, they're met by heated sapphire, staring you down and observing you. You quickly recognize the man, from the burn scars and blue flames, this probably the worst possible situation for you, you've heard of Dabi and he doesn't [lay very nice with people. "It's best if you stay down little hero, unless you want to be in the burn unit for awhile... that is if you don't turn to ash first." He laughs in your face, staples stretching as grins far too wide for it too not hurt. Your thrashing ceases at the threat and he hums at you, running a hand down your face wiping the blood from your head. "That's all it took to get you to behave? That's pretty sad, so obsessed with that pretty face you won't fight me?" You try and turn your face away from him but he just moves it back and stares you down, his eyes getting darker as he does so. "If you're.. gonna kill me just do it, I'm not giving you information," you breathe in between your sentence, trying to slow your heart rate. He mockingly pouts at that, before leaning towards your ear and breathing down your neck. "Oh, you are gonna give me something.. just not information doll." He counters, pulling away and sitting on your thighs and pulling up your shirt. You swallow, knowing exactly what he's insinuating, letting your head fall back on the concreate as you squeeze your eyes tight and go limp. He coos at you, pulling up your shirt above your breasts and pulling down your bra, so it sits below your tits. 'It's best too let it happen, maybe he won't kill you if you behave and keep quiet, he can't be for long since there will be other heros coming to patrol the area soon, it'll be over quick.' You chant in your head as you try to block out the sound of him unzipping his pants and the jingle of his belt being undone. Trying too escape into your head doesn't work for you though, when he notices that hazy look in your eyes as you go quiet, he slaps you across the face.

"I don't fucking think so, you think you can escape me using that little head of yours? You're gonna look at me while I fuck you and your gonna thank me after, you understand me?" You nod at him as you cradle your red, stinging cheek. Tears clouding your eyes as they become leaky with salty tears as you attempt to muffle your cries. He finishes undressing you, pulling your panties to the side and spitting on your cunt before pumping his cock and slipping inside. He sucks in a breath through his teeth as his head falls back and he growls out in contentment. His hands shoot to your hips as he maneuvers one of your legs from underneath him and over his shoulder. "Fuckin' Christ you're tight, soft little pussy sucking my cock in so good, don't worry I'm not going anywhere," he mocks, a dark chuckle slipping from his lips as he starts to fuck into you. His pace has no rhythm as he just humps at your cunt, a spit-coded finger coming down to rub at your clit in messy circles, slapping at the sensitive bud a couple times when you try to look away from the intensity his eyes provide you with. He leans down and coos at you when you whine, kissing at your cheek and nose, grinning when you make no attempt at moving away. He's so rough, pounding at your cervix and panting in your ear, biting down on your neck. "Just like that, squeeze me tighter baby.. mm fuck- best pussy I've ever had, 'ts fuckin' crying for me... mmph, you might not like me but she sure does, I'll make sure to give 'er a little gift, hm? You think she'd like that? I think she would, I'll cum in you just for her, yeah?" You can't think anymore, head too cloudy as your senses become overstimulated from being fucked like a toy, fuck you really should' ve listened to your father and let him come with you, this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been so quick to go off on your own and act like a pro, your eyes start to close before you can pity yourself anymore and everything goes black.

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matchaelette · 20 days

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GIF from pinterest

when days without each other feels like torture and none of you know what to do with yourselves

summary: idol!jk and oc!ash, established relationship, this drabble takes place after jungkook’s graduation ceremony in the military— which unfortunately, ash couldn’t attend. basically she didn't get to talk to kook once after he left. this gives us a sneak peek into ash’s life while kook’s away, she’s lowkey falling apart (as am I), ending with tales of our favorite boy. also, introducing sky, our girl’s best friend (mom?? I love her)

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: suggestive af, be responsible kids

word count: 3.5k

notes: two updates in less than ten days?? who is she??!! (can you tell i’m jobless?) however, I had quite a hard time writing this so?? enjoy??? :DD

it’s been more than a week since you’ve entered your apartment.

warm purple lights greet you when you step inside past the main door but the silence is mocking. the house is empty. there’s no music blasting from the speakers, no melodic humming coming from the kitchen, none of the usual jungkook noises that welcome you when you come home on your last legs. the house seems empty even with you in it.

you remove your sneakers and tread softly on the floor wearing just your white socks. with weary steps, you make your way to the living room, collapsing on the couch. a yawn escapes your lips, resonating through the apartment.

exhaustion grips you with its hands of death, but you know that you won’t be able to sleep tonight. for the longest time, you’ve been immersing yourself in work, using it as an excuse to avoid sleeping. But the truth was you couldn’t fall asleep even if you wanted to.

you’ve had trouble sleeping ever since your boyfriend’s departure from the military. the situation has gotten out of hand now, to the point where even sleeping pills were effectless, making you listless and dull.

you stretch out your limbs on the couch. your gaze drifts towards the windows, the barren branches of the trees swaying with the wind, fine works done by the end of the winter. spring should’ve been here by now but there was no sign of it. yet the walls of your shared apartment kept you warm, the memories built inside kept you contended, comfortable, and whole, away from all the bad things in the world. winter may have done its art on the world outside, but there was no entering this home built on the foundations of love.

so long as you can keep the chilliness from patterning into vines inside of your heart.

you couldn’t. now you’re hungry, sleepless, drained, and all alone.

the silence was pervasive. you couldn’t bear it anymore. that’s why you flew to busan at the end of last week, spending a few days at jungkook’s parents’ house. for a brief period, you magically forgot about your misery under the care of mrs. jeon. jungkook’s mother enveloped you in love, the same way jungkook always does, pampering you like a delicate blossom that was just beginning to bloom. you expected you’d be reminded of jungkook there, more than ever, being in the room of his teenage self, surrounded by things that were a part of his life before you were. but it was the complete opposite. it was a therapeutic experience.

you couldn’t step away from your work for a long time, so you took an early leave, and have been spending the last few days at your best friend, sky’s place. you couldn’t bear coming back home.

you love it here, you really do. but everything reminds you of jungkook in this place.

bunny plushies, marvel figurines, oversized t-shirts, balenciaga boots, his gaming equipment scattered on the tv tray, his pink toothbrush beside your baby blue one, sparkly hair clips you used to tie his long locks with— he was everywhere, everything bore traces of him. you couldn’t look at the kitchen without seeing him humming there with his carrot aprons on, you couldn’t do your laundry without feeling his smell on your clothes. jungkook left like the last remains of winter, leaving everything barren and cold behind, and every bit of it felt like an ongoing nightmare you were struggling to wake up from.

with a resigned sigh, you reluctantly rise from the couch and make your way to the walk-in closet. you had meticulously packed every single one of jungkook’s favorite, worn-out sweatshirts before he departed for the military, but knowing how much you love to wear his clothes, he sneakily left a few here and there for you to sleep in. you also remember him wearing a lot of new shirts before he left. when you asked him what was up, he said he wanted you to have as many things as possible with his smell on. it’ll feel like i’m right there, he said.

you pull out one of those shirts now and find yourself embracing it. an involuntary smile forms on your lips when you smell him, peaches and baby soap. you know, it does feel like you’re right here.

you know you won’t sleep tonight. but you think you can bring yourself to take a shower, wear his clothes, and spend the night watching the stars from your balcony.

the sound of a beep diverts your attention from your thoughts to your phone. you pull it out of your pocket— one new notification— it was from sky, your best friend.

sky: you left your typewriter at my apartment

sky: laptop*

you: straight from the tortured poet’s department?

you: you gotta be kidding me.

you: I need it!!

sky: no you don’t.

sky: go to sleep.

you: I NEED IT!!

sky: no you don’t.

sky: go to sleep.

you: this could go on for a while.

sky: how about we grab coffee tomorrow?

sky: i’ll bring the laptop then

you: seeing me for a few days in a row?

you: will you be okay?

sky: i’ll survive.

sky: 12 pm sharp. at blind spot.

sky: see ya

you: okay

you: if I manage to stay alive

sky: when I said go to sleep, I didn’t mean the permanent sleep

sky: how dare you seen zone me.

sky: your laptop is on the mercy of my hands

sky: k goodnight

you smell peach and baby soap the moment you step into the hallway from the elevator.

you come to a staggering halt.

sky bumps into you, and you hear her say something you couldn’t quite decipher. you find yourself frozen in the place, unable to think or blink. the smell, it overwhelms you completely, luring you into a trance like the sweet flute of the pied piper. it can’t possibly be what you’re thinking, right? jungkook is currently serving in the military, and he still had to complete two entire weeks before he would be allowed to contact any of his friends or family. there is no way he can be here right now, not when it’s almost midnight, not when he’s probably under strict supervision about sixty kilometers away from here.

but yet— you instinctively close your eyes and inhale like a person deprived of breath— the overwhelming aroma of the smell you’re way too familiar with, the scent where you created a hearth, of peaches and baby soap, the unmistakable presence of jeon jungkook, was doing everything in its power to convince you otherwise.

how deep in the pit of delusions are you that you’re physically smelling him when he isn’t present here? when he hasn’t been present here for a while? at this point, jungkook needs to contact you just for the sake of keeping your sanity intact.

“ash?”, you stumble forward, breaking out of your daze as a concerned sky nudges you. “you alright?”

you shake your head in disbelief, mock laughter coming out of your mouth. “I think I am going crazy”.

“what in the world just happened?”

“I— I thought I smelled something.”

“smelled something?”, your best friend looks confused, “like rotten onions?”

“why—”, you gape at her, “why the heck would I smell rotten onions?”

“I don’t know!”, sky raises her arms in the air, “what else could you smell that makes you all teary in a second?!”

you falter. slowly, you bring up your hands to your eyes and realize that they indeed, are brimming with tears.

“i’m crying?”, you look dumbfounded, “oh, i’m crying”

“well, almost”, sky scoffs and wipes your eyes with her sweater paws, “what the hell did you smell if it’s not onions?”

“it’s stupid”, you laugh dejectedly.

“hon’, look here. nothing, and I mean nothing, can make me convinced that you are not stupid, so you might as well say and be done with it.”

you give her a halfhearted glare. “for a moment, I thought I smelled jungkook”, you say quietly.

sky’s expression suddenly goes blank.

“you can laugh”, you sigh, “it’s stupid, I know. i’m smelling things in my mind now. how pathetic am I?”

“you’re not pathetic”, sky smiles at you softly, “you miss him a lot, don’t you?”

you smile wistfully. inhaling in the lingering scent of your boyfriend one last time, you firmly push it out of your head. “he’d absolutely hate it if he knew I’m crying my eyes out for him every night. I don’t know when I became so emotionally dependent on him. I don’t know when my life started revolving around him. I feel like I am overreacting but I really am losing it every day. and I— I—”, you fail to continue.

“oh please. your life never revolved around jungkook. you can say anything but you can’t feel bad for missing him! fuck, they— they took your boyfriend away for eighteen months! you’re allowed to have little to no communication, you don’t know how he’s doing there, they’re probably working him to his limits every day— there’s no way in hell you’re overreacting, let alone feel bad for it.”

“I couldn’t even attend his graduation ceremony.”

“oh yeah, i’ve been meaning to ask— why didn’t you go to the ceremony?”

“schedules got mixed up. I was in the states. the ceremony was held earlier than it was supposed to.”

“shit. talk about bad luck”, sky grimaces, “how can you still feel bad after that?”

“i’ll be fine if I could just talk to him for a minute”, you close your eyes, “just hear him say that he’s okay, even if it’s a lie.”

“how much would you pay me if I could make that dream come true?”

“huh?”, your eyes flutter open at that.

“I don’t know! I could drag him out somehow if you promise cash”, sky grins foolishly.

“you and your stupid jokes”, you smile and walk in front of your apartment door. balancing the handful of shopping bags on your forearms, you type the door code successfully without dropping anything.

initially, sky and you were just supposed to grab coffee together. she was just supposed to return your laptop over that. but somehow coffee ended up turning into lunch, and then subsequently dinner, ending with an impromptu shopping spree where both of you, by the way, did not go crazy and out of control.

hence, the shopping bags.

you were quite surprised when sky asked if she could stay over at yours for the night. perhaps ‘asking’ would be a strong word- she basically invited herself over. it came as a surprise because she was one of those introverted people who’d come up with the most elaborate excuses just to remain in the comfort of their own home and avoid social interactions, even if it was their best friend. being friends for almost six years, sky didn’t need to make any excuses now when it came to you. she could easily tell you that she didn’t want to talk or meet up because “your incessant quacking” tired her out and, you couldn’t care less and show up in her house unannounced regardless.

it was weird when she was the one who wanted to stay over. particularly after the whole weekend, you spent at her place.

but you were more than glad, partly because you missed hanging out with your best friend, partly because you dreaded facing another night of overwhelming loneliness.

“okay, forget cash, forget about me. I say, we fix you.”

“and how exactly do we do that?”, you raise an eyebrow.

“take a day off. take a bubble bath. drink tea, or champagne, whichever one suits you. buy yourself some flowers, maybe a vibrator since jungkook isn’t her—”

“oh my god”, you groan. sky nudges your door impatiently and it opens with a beep.

the same aroma overtakes your senses once again when the door opens, but this time you make an effort not to be swayed by it. jungkook is not here. you losing your mind over that wouldn’t help. you can go back to being yourself, the pathetic mess, from tomorrow night. tonight, you enjoy life with your best friend.

the darkness, however, makes you frown. “huh, weird. I always keep the lights on when I go out.”

you stumble in the dark, muscle memory easily locating the light switches and turning it on.

and for the second time tonight, your entire world stops.

not even five feet away from you, jeon jungkook was standing in the middle of the living room.

i’m seeing things, i’m losing my mind, you take a sharp breath, and close your eyes, this will go away when I open my eyes. i’m not crazy. i’m not crazy. i’m not cra— I don’t want it to go away when I open my eyes.

several seconds pass before you open your eyes. and when you do, your face distorts in pain.

jeon jungkook remains in the same spot you saw him in, an unreadable expression on his face. the last time you saw him, he had close to no hair. now, standing in the middle of the living room, he resembles the same jungkook you once fell in love with, yet wildly different. his cropped hair still as untamed as ever, he looks much bigger, buffer and stronger than you’ve ever seen him. he is clad in gray sweatpants and one of his black oversized sweatshirts, which you realize no longer seems quite oversized; hands occupied with a large bouquet of blue irises, wrapped with cobalt blue satin ribbon, your favorite.

“s—sky? I think I am hallucinating”. your voice is barely audible— dry, indistinct. the shopping bags in your hands drop on the floor with a thud.

“I don’t think you’re hallucinating, ash”, she replies back softly, gently patting your shoulders.

a strangled sound leaves your throat.

before you know it, you’re staggering toward jungkook unceremoniously, crashing into him with bruising force. jungkook catches you. he snatches your waist and lifts you up in the air effortlessly, spinning you around with a choked laugh. you bury your face in his neck and feel him do the same, wrap your legs around his waist, and feel him clutching onto you with the same desperation.

none of you could talk.

“ookay, my part is done”. after several minutes, sky clears her throat and breaks the silence, winking at jungkook when he lifts his face up from your neck, “i’ll leave now. don’t do anything I wouldn’t do kids.”

jungkook smiles and mouths a ‘bye’ at her. sky closes the main door as she takes her leave, leaving the two of you alone in your apartment.

when jungkook planned this surprise, he imagined sunlight. he imagined being a child again, standing in front of the christmas tree in the morning, the sunlight casting an iridescent glow on the colorful boxes of unknown delight. he imagined happy, two parted lovers meeting after a long time— just as it is now.

he never thought it would feel like this.

tears flooding down his cheeks, jungkook felt unrelenting pain, feeling both your anguish and his merging into a torrent of melancholy. all this time, he was yearning for your love, missing you, worrying about you, without fully realizing the extent of your suffering. now holding you close in his embrace, vulnerable and almost heartbroken, all jungkook felt was dread. he had to leave the day after tomorrow. how in the world would he survive the second wave of breathlessness? the suffocating nausea he felt every time he was away from you, every time you cried? his delicate little butterfly —how would he live without you?

how would he live knowing you’re suffering just as much as him? for him?

“b— babe?”, he manages to choke out.

you whimper in response, struggling to form coherent thoughts between crying and hiccupping. you still aren’t sure if this is a dream. if it is, you never want to wake up again.

eyes brimming with tears, jungkook presses tender kisses on your neck and walks the both of you towards the bedroom. he carefully climbs onto the bed with you clinging onto him like a leach, trying to set you down gently. but you are unwilling to let go, even if it’s for a millisecond. you pull him down with you, causing both of you to tumble on the soft surface of the bed, entangled with each other.

jungkook presses down, not a single inch of space left between you. you free your hands from over jungkook’s neck to lift his face, palms framing his cheeks. your face is so intimately close to his that you can see the scar on his cheek, the mole under his lips, the hundreds of lashes framing his dark orbs that have literal sunlight trapped in them. you brush his hair, not only transfixed by the sheer beauty of your man but also carefully observing if he’s hurt anywhere.

he is mesmerized by you, following your every move.

“jungkook”, your voice is awfully quiet when you finally speak.

“i’m here.”

“jungkook?”, you whimper, “you’re— you’re—”

“right here. i’m here. i’m yours.”

“touch me. please.”

five years later, and jungkook still looks at you the same way he did when he met you for the first time. it has been more than two years since you two moved in together, and he still acts like a lovesick puppy around you, still feels like he’s a teenager with a massive crush on you, one that will eventually explode him in bits.

jungkook is a puppet on a string and you’re the puppeteer.

wordlessly, jungkook hooks his arms under your waist and crashes his lips against yours.

he kisses you with bruising force, hands sneakily playing with the waistband of your underwear. he steals your breath, making you devoid of any air, but this is the first time in months you feel like you’re actually breathing. his mouth works its way down from your lips to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin with his teeth and soothing it with his tongue.

your hands roam freely upon the expanse of his back and even in this clouded haze, you realize that he is much broader than before. jungkook settles himself between your legs, pressing his lower body against your core, your delicious moans driving him to the edge of insanity. his lips are on your mouth, on your neck, on your chest— you didn’t even notice when he ripped off your shirt.

he’s everywhere. crawling inside your body, blazing a crest on your soul.

“kook, please.”

he pushes your jeans down, calloused hands making their way inside your underwear. jungkook pauses for a second to guide your legs around his waist, before dipping his teasing fingers in your wetness. protective. possessive.

“you’re so—”, jungkook takes your lower lips between his when you groan with mad pleasure.

“you say ‘wet’ and we’re done here.”

“—beautiful. you’re so fucking beautiful”. both of you burst into giggles, tear-stained faces worshipping each other.

and after months, the house finally roars into life with joy and contentment tonight.

you tell jungkook everything. you tell him how you’ve been overworking to keep him out of your mind, how much your appetite has lessened these days, how hard sleeping has been for you lately. you tell him about how you stuffed the family hello kitty inside your closet cause you couldn’t bear to see it anymore, how much you miss the other boys, how you’ve spent your last week at his mom’s. you don’t hide anything. you know all it would do was worry him but you don’t hold back anything.

in return, jungkook cradled you in his arms and told you about himself. he told you how he was (very much expected) putting his everything into the training sessions every day, how he accidentally hurt his heels again, in the exact same place he got stitches before the love yourself concert in london, how he’s been working more carefully now after you appeared in his dreams that night and threatened to shave his eyebrows off if he wasn’t cautious. he told you about the new friends he made, about jin and jimin’s antics, how they miss you just as much as you do.

you both talk all night.

“so, you asked sky to take me out?”, you muse after a while, “I was wondering why she was being so nice.”

“I was supposed to arrive in the evening. the plan was to decorate the whole house, buy something for you, and cook something so we could have dinner together. but the traffic was so bad— I got here only thirty minutes before you did. I just managed to get some flowers.”

“you’re crazy”, you scoff, “you’re here. that’s more than enough.”

“I wanna stay like this forever”. jungkook tightened his arms around your waist, nestling his face in your hair. finally, the bed tonight, wasn’t empty. it was just like it was meant to be.

“hmm, let me see, we have the entire day tomorrow and the morning after that. think you can fit forever in that?”

“I don’t think even forever with you would ever be enough for me.”

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doumadono · 4 months

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MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST Pro hero Dabi - headcanons • A warm welcome - pro hero!Dabi - headcanons NSFW

Dabi's counting on Shoto to intern for him because, come on, he's the adorable baby brother, and Dabi's thinking, "I wanna put this kid in my pocket, he's so cute."

But, oh no, it's Bakugo who fills out the internship papers for pro hero Dabi's agency.

Dabi doesn't hear a lot about the ash-blonde-haired teenager somehow, but once they meet face-to-face, Dabi is truly taken aback at first, seeing how rude and gruff Bakugo is.

Initially, Bakugo is quite displeased upon meeting the eldest Todoroki face-to-face, finding his expectations shattered. He had pictured pro hero Dabi as taller and cooler, but with time, Bakugo gradually becomes fond of him, showing a basic, proper respect.

For Bakugo, interning with pro hero Dabi is the total opposite of interning with Beast Jeanist.

Instead of trying to fix Bakugo, Dabi's all about embracing the chaos. He encourages Bakugo's wild antics because, hey, scandal sells, and Dabi's the master of that game.

The real challenge for Dabi? Teaching Bakugo how to talk to the public. And trust me, public speaking isn't Bakugo's strong suit - never has been.

Dabi, in all his wisdom, throws dating advice at Bakugo, even if he didn't ask for it (because he's not a softie who's settling down, hell no!)

While fighting villains is important, Dabi drills into Bakugo that looking good doing it is equally crucial. Smile, dance, strike a pose – give the people what they want!

Now, if Bakugo becomes pro hero Dabi's sidekick, expect him to take on some of his mentor's flair. Flirty interviews? Check. Arrogant swagger? Double-check. And you bet Bakugo would flex that sweet sidekick salary for the best gear, clothes, tech - basically, the best everything. Because why settle for less when you're the hottest thing in hero-town?

We all know Bakugo has a penchant for spicy food. Somehow, pro hero Dabi inherits this trait after his sidekick.

What Dabi appreciates about Bakugo working for him is the fact that Bakugo is very straightforward.

Dabi is thrilled with Bakugo's performance, and the younger man earns himself a spot in Dabi's Instagram highlights. This section houses some stories featuring that arsonist boy (that's Dabi's nickname for Katsuki)

Dabi asks his trusted gear designer to help improve Bakugo's hero costume, but Bakugo doesn't want to agree because he likes his costume the way it is. The young man ends up not talking to the oldest Todoroki for a day or two. Instead, he just barks at his orders, showing his unhappiness. "Tsk! Yeah, old bastard, I get it!" or "Shut up, and don't tell me what to do, dammit!"

#dabi #dabi headcanons #touya todoroki headcanons #dabi my hero academia #touya todoroki #my hero academia #toya todoroki #pro hero dabi #mha headcanons #dabi is touya #katsuki bakugo #bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugou #bakugo hcs #mha hcs #bakugou katsuki #mha fluff #bnha headcanons #bakugo katsuki

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tarjapearce · 2 months

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Bad Teachings (Pt. 18)

Older! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: angst, parental abusive relationship, arguments, emotional distress, comfort towards the end, fluff, Soft! Miguel, Romantic and soft smut, p in v sex, oral (F! receiving) relationship stablishment.

Summary: Something is born from the chaos' ashes.

A/N: Te quiero is a softer yet still affectionate form of an I love you. (It is said in the early stages of a relationships) ✨

(P. d. Hope you enjoy as much as I did :'3)

Chapter's song:

"So, you and..." Peter cleared his throat while Miguel added a couple of coffee filters and packages into his cart. Peter secured Mayday's baby carrier and added a couple of granola in his own.

Grocery shopping proved to be as effective as a stress reliever and a multifunctional task. While both men restocked for their homes, the act of sharing secrets came in hand with it.

"What about it?" Miguel grunted as he examined the ingredients of a creamer and returned it back to the shelf to then grab a couple of cereal boxes. Granola and berries for him and almond and honey for you, something he noticed you ate ever since staying at his home.

"Oh, nothing. Just... took me by surprise to know you were back in the dating scene. You're dating right? Wait, stupid question, of course you are, you're freaking living together."

Miguel stared at him with a quirked brow and a deadpan.

"I'm more surprised you barely remembered her, when you agreed to help her out."

Petter grunted with goof chuckle, "Again, I'm sorry. I forgot about it."

"No te olvidas la cabeza porque nomás la traes pegada." (You don't forget your head cause it's stuck with you.)

Miguel's grumbles brought Mayday a giggle as she clapped at her papa getting sassed at.

The both moved to the meat section and filled the carts with an assorted selection of cuts. The background music made Mayday sway her feet and mumbling along at the lyrics.

Miguel chose between some steaks, and Peter asked for some things at the clerk.

"For how long have you been, you know, dating and all that?"

"It's recent. Almost a month perhaps."

Miguel then moved to the flours section and got some corn added to his cart, Peter in the other hand just tossed in the already made tortillas package.

"Wait... So, let me get this straight. You just recently started dating and you're already living together."

Miguel shrugged nonchalantly and sighed, "Basically. It wasn't planned though."

"Huh?" Mayday slapped Peter's face softly, trying to get his attention while pointing at a bright colored package of ice cream. He put the thing in his cart without much thought, "What do you mean it wasn't planned?"

"Long story short, her apartment flooded, the shitty man she has for a landlord never helped out, she's having it bad with her parents. Couldn't let her go back to them-"

"So you stepped in"

"That's sums it up."

A couple of emotions, crossed Peter. Surprise the main one. Everyone talked about how much he had changed ever since he got married and had Mayday, but in truth, he had also been an spectator the whole time. He had witnessed first row how many of the people he surrounded himself with had changed, Miguel wasn't the exception.

He remained ever blunt and hard around the edges, but these had softened, like him.

Was this thanks to you?

Undoubtedly. He didn't know the circumstances the sudden relationship had been born under, but his friend seemed at ease, nearly happy. It was enough for Peter. Plus he got to see him more.

Even though you were their student, he supposed that title was long left behind ever since you graduated. There were many questions that crammed up into his head but wasn't sure to ask, given Miguel's reserved nature. But as his best friend, Peter assumed being that granted him at least more trust above the rest.

"When did you started to-"

"Parker" Miguel chided and Peter huffed

"C'mon, pal. I mean, if you're gonna start bringing her around reunions and stuff, I gotta know, so I don't mess up again."

Miguel kept filling his cart with some toiletries and a couple of things that reminded him of the little things that made you, while partially ignoring Peter.

He took two pairs of dark socks for himself, but stopped in the woman's section.

"Been thinking about something actually." Miguel mumbled as his eyes darted through the array of fuzzy ankle length socks you'd probably stop to gawk at.

"And that is?" Mayday screeched as soon as she saw the socks and Peter's brow quirked when Miguel picked up a pair of black ones and purple. He ended up tossing in the purple socks with some lighter shade hearts imprinted on them, alike the ones he saw you wearing the first night you slept next to him after the incident.

"I'll ask her to move in with me."

Peter's eyes blinked, nonplussed.

Who was this man before him? More importantly, what had you done to him? How had you cracked his walls so effortlessly when he had taken years to open up to him.

"Are you...?" Inlove?

"Sure? Isn't it too soon?"

"Maybe."

He shrugged and added a couple of white tank tops in the cart.

"I know I'm serious about it."

Of course he was. If there was something Miguel was known for, was his unabashed commitment once he got into relationships, even if they failed. Tempest had also lived with him for four years. A natural thing to happen according to his brain.

But even so, something couldn't help but feel off..

"Right, but do you think she'll agree?"

Miguel's shoulders slumped, a hand passed over his wavy strands, trying to soothe the sudden doubt Peter awakened.

He wouldn't pressure you into things, but the idea had been roaming in his mind for quite a time. But solidified as a possibility that night you comforted him after that nightmare. He wanted you there, but also feared it would be too much.

Was he being too much? Even at his fourty two years of experience there were things that still made him feel like a young and coy man, unsure of his next step. He's never been good when it came to expressing himself without feeling panicky or awkward.

Miguel knew he wanted you there, with him. Attraction was undeniable between both, and there was something he couldn't put a name yet. Adoration perhaps? Love was too soon to get in both's vocabulary, even though at times he was oh so close to blurt that out because his body demanded it.

He could say Te quiero, a softer yet still version of a powerful I love you. Cause he was taking his time in enjoying you and whatever thing that bloomed between the both completely and throughly. And what a better way to do so than securing a place within his home specially just for you?

"I hope so." Oh the mess you made out of him.

Peter's breath hitched upon his reply and exhaled deeply. But there was one little detail in the way.

"Have you, uh... Told her about Gabriella?"

Peter tried with all his might to not touch sensitive fibers that even to this day, made his and Miguel's heart splinter in many heartrending directions. Even more when he saw Miguel's shoulders tense up and his head shake softly.

"Haven't found the courage yet."

Mayday yawned and curled her head into Peter's chest.

Not that Peter blamed him, despite years parading through them both and their friendship, Miguel was unable to talk about Gabriella without turning in this blameworthy and broken man that would berate himself to death if possible.

"Well, if this is going for the long run, wouldn't it be better that you'd sit with her and talk about it? I'm not saying explain detail by detail, but just a concise thing for her to understand you a bit better. It'll make you both stronger, if that's what you're aiming for."

It was Miguel's turn to stare curiously at him. MJ had definitely been a good influence in his life.

"I'll talk to her when the right time comes."

"Hopefully your time isn't too late, pal. But in all, Hope everything works out for you both. She seems good"

"She is"

Too good for me at times.

----

You've never been one for being explosive, but this situation was purposely and constantly picking at your past wounds that scarring was proving itself tricky.

You didn't want to make Miguel concerned or upset given his sudden mood swings after that nightmare. And as much as you wanted to know, life made sure to keep you busy with a good dose of 'mind your business' in the shape of a call from none other than mother.

Apparently Mr. Cufton contacted her since you missed a couple of calls, probably to discuss something regarding your apartment. And now, you were on the door of your old home. It felt like yesterday everything had turned so chaotic and blurry

Neither Hobie or Mrs. Brown were there to save you this time.

As soon as you reached the end of the hall, mother appeared in the elevator along Mr. Cufton.

They talked like nothing was wrong in the world, like if they had been intimate friends for quite the time, like if she hadn't mouthed him when the chaos happened. A shudder came down your spine, as nauseas fought for control on your throat. Mother settled her eyes on you, her skin crinkling as the smile reached her gaze.

Oh god...

Mr. Cufton on the other hand remained with a reserved smile, and soon approached, greeted you and opened the door.

The smell of mold reminisced in the air despite it being long gone. The once jagged and bleeding open wall, was now immaculate and pristine as the first time you signed the lease. There was no longer that annoying drip drop from the kitchen, and the water was no longer freezing as Mr. Cufton showed you and your mother the repairs.

"I truly apologize for the silence in my end. Was doing everything in my power to get this fixed before a new administration comes up."

"It's alright." Was all you managed to mumbled as your eyes raked over the visible parts of the place.

There was a translucent plastic covering the windows and strapped at the walls. The smell of the oily paint emanated from a bucket and tools placed in the corner where you'd put your old books before Miguel assembled your favorite shelf.

Dust flowed through the void, earning a sneeze from Mr. Cufton. Your mother examined your room and every space and area your eyes were reluctant to probe yet.

"So it's ready to be occupied again?" Mom asked as you looked through the hallway, waiting for Hobie or his mom to suddenly appear and spare you from the gnawing dread clutching at your chest.

"Pretty much. Within a week you could move back in if you wanted to make it immediate. Or we could assign you another room. Some tenants didn't renovate their contract and left, and there's a single bedroom place in the upper floor if you're interested that is."

Wonder why.

Your lips pursed at the sudden thought. Another room sounded good, you had heard the upper floors had the best views and renovations. All you had to do was to pick. Yes for the upper floor or wait for a week more to move back in the place you had been calling home for the past two years.

What about Miguel?

You swallowed and rubbed your eyes while heaving a deep exhale.

"What do you pick, sweetie?"

Her voice snapped you out of the trance your brain had suddenly put you in. It was going to be a difficult talk.

"Hm?"

"Which one you'll pick?, the upper floor sounds good, unless you can wait a bit more. Wouldn't mind a bit of consideration for my knees."

Mr. Cufton and she laughed, but your mind was elsewhere. The timer had come to an end to your little fantasy and reality was dragging you down through broken glasses.

How could you explain him that you could go back? Would it change anything to be apart from him? You'd grown so used to him at this point that your nose had already memorized his smell, the exact amount of roast he liked in his coffee, his sweat after returning for his Sunday's early workouts, the mezcal he drank, the strawberry perfume that came from the black door, and the cologne he sometimes used just to have you locking your arms on his neck, and pecking his face until you got more than an airy chuckle from him.

All of that, soon gone to be replaced with the unpleasant musty and moldy smell that took you two weeks to get rid of when you first moved in and stagnant loneliness. Even though your apartment had the perfect temperature for so many things, you had somehow grown used to Miguel's cold place. A perfectly convenient excuse to snuggle against him and sleep in his arms. Not even a pillow could compare to the comfort and softness he offered.

All soon gone.

Mr. Cufton left, but your mother remained glued to the floor, the door's click brought you back to reality again

"Tell me you're staying here."

A tremor invaded your senses upon realizing a bit too late you had been left alone once more with the final boss.

"I don't know. I waited so long for this that it doesn't feel good anymore."

"You'll get used to it. I know. You're a smart girl."

"Am I?"

It escaped your mouth with such incredulity mom jarred her arms in her waist with pursed lips.

"Where have you been staying?"

There we go.

The brewing anxiety had prepared you for this kind of impacts, the more you were exposed to them, the more you started to identify the signs, the easier was to turn completely guarded. Your armor was already on and strapped, ready for the verbal spar.

"With a friend of mines." You headed for the bathroom to see how the fixer uppers worked but mom's words stopped you right in the wall's frame.

"Is Mr. O'Hara that friend?"

The implicit accusation remained there, etching at every apparent calm word that came out of her. Your name was called and your hands bawled into tight fists. Manicured nails digging in the fat of your palms.

"Is he?" Her tone demanding and severe.

"God... Yes! Okay?! Yes. I've been staying with him!"

You nearly roared as you turned around, one of your hands squeezed the keys so tight some of them indented their shape on your flesh.

The disappointment in mom's face was so familiar you had been immunized with it, leaving nothing but the urge to flee. But this time, there was no place where you could go and hide as everything was bare, stripped to nothing but the main arena you were having your match. The first punch had been delivered.

"Why..." your voice broke, "Why can't we have a conversation without ending up fighting?."

"Oh cut it. Don't give me that right now when I just found out you've been staying at your teacher's house! How indecent is that?! What were you thinking?!"

Your chest thrummed in such a violent compass you felt it growing tighter, just like the knot in your windpipe. Even though you didn't want it, life was forcing you to face this. To face her even if you screamed and begged to not.

"To run away from you! You suffocate me, alright?!" Your voice, though broken, came firm enough to have her nonplussed for a second.

"No. No, no. This isn't about me. You're... You've been sleeping with Mr. O'Hara haven't you?" Accusation was no longer able to be hidden, and this only set everything inside you ablaze, "Haven't you?!"

"What if I have? You're gonna ground me for that?"

Mother's eyes were blurred with the emerging tears.

"Oh god..."

"Oh god, what?! Mom. He has been helping me through this instead of-."

"I did not raise you to be like this." She mumbled while pacing with shaky hands on her mouth, mumbling over and over. You had to lean on the wall to gather up a bit more strength before round two happened.

"This is exactly why I don't visit you and dad. You're always at it! Always! Why can't it be different for once?!"

"'Cause apparently that's the only way you can understand!" her voice grew an octave higher

"Understand what?! That you're awful!?"

Your words managed to assert a blow on her armor.

"My goodness," She hiccuped as her hands wiped her rolling tears, "Everything your father and I have done is for you to be well! I'm just trying to protect you!"

"Protect me from what?! From someone that has been doing everything to kept me afloat?!"

"He's your teacher! Your fucking teacher! " Mom roared, "Double your age! Goddammit, your dad is just a couple of years older than him! You could have fourty and still that's inappropriate!

"And still he's a better companion that you both."

"Don't you dare disrespect me like that, young lady!" She waved an angry finger at you.

"But it's okay if you do?! It's ok for you to barge into my life, try to control everything, and decide with whom I get to sleep with? I haven't fucked him if that's you're worried about!" You seethed

"Are you hearing yourself? You think Mr. O'Hara loves you?" Her eyes stalked yours, moving her head in every direction your head moved

"Stop." You rejected her however, trying to get to the main door and leave. But all her anger and frustration had been left out in shape of words that marred eachother.

"He just wants your body! The fucking heat you give to his sheets for him to not feel lonely at night! You're so gullible into thinking that he cares for you!"

"He cares for me more than you could ever do! He doesn't criticise me over stupid things, doesn't treat me like a stupid porcelain perfect doll, He treats me as a person! "

She took your shoulders with a surprising gentleness you weren't used to from her ad she shook you gently.

"A person that is falling into his trap! Older men are no good. He will care for you until he grows tired, until someone else amuses him. And once he gets what he wanted, he'll throw you away-"

"Stop!" you pleaded and she did, only when she saw your tears rolling down the cheeks. A sigh heaved from her lips, and you wiped your liquid pain off your face.

"I won't be there for the holidays, I'm-."

"Don't be silly. Og course you'll be there-"

"I won't. I'm done. I-I can't anymore."

Your hands recoiled from her instantly, as if you had been burned with the touch alone, you walked over the door but sensing the sudden shift in your tone, she clung to you once more, and unlike that time on the dinner, this time her sudden fear of losing you completely made her cling with all her might. But once more you managed to escape. You always did.

She begged your name but you conceded a last look her way.

"I'm... happy, dating a man that against all you've said, does care for me in ways I've never experienced before. And yes, mom. I might be whatever you weren't brave enough to call me for dating my old teacher from college, but I don't care. I... If it doesn't work then fine, that's how life is, but don't pretend to know me or him, cause you know shit about us."

Mom had to swallow a thick lump in her throat as she kept her hands to herself, "When Mr. O'Hara breaks your heart, you'll know where to find your dad and I."

You huffed while wiping the tears off your face.

"Don't worry. I've got some real friends this time for that. Take care."

You left, with a powerful slam on the door, closing that gut-wrenching chapter for good. Or at least hoped it was for good.

----

You had taken a time to properly calm yourself before driving back, but you didn't want to face Miguel yet. You needed to at least crawl up in a place where you could contain back your demons.

You didn't want to taint Miguel with them, he had been having enough as it is to add yourself as another toll.

You ended up driving aimlessly through the city, until the canvas in the sky turned completely jet black, with the moon and a few stars as the only dash of color in it.

You had stopped on a lookout, letting thr occasional intrusive thought of revving the engine alive and press the speeder. Before your mind took a dark turn, the buzz in your phone snapped your attention to the screen. Miguel's name in full display of the screen and the hour, 9:45, pm.

If you had any doubts in for how long you've been driving, the hour said it all.

I'll be home soon—

You texted, unable to properly speak. To then drive back.

-----

Miguel's nerves were set into make a disaster out of his head. Where were you? Why weren't you home yet? Were you in danger? Had you left him for good?

The door closed with a quiet click and his worrysome eyes immediately focused on you, and his brows immediately furrowed with a frown.

Your eyes were red, some areas remained puffy and swollen, and your overall aura seemed to be barely crawling to him for safety.

He didn't think it twice to standing up and cradling you so carefully into his arms before you could vanish, yet you held his cheeks and kissed him, not that he complained the way you kissed him, but how could he enjoy such thing when something was troubling you.

"Mi amor-" He mumbled but you kissed him again and pushed him towards the couch, his hands caught you, "Wait"

"Just fucking kiss me." Genuinely confused in your behavior, he sighed as he cradled your hunching and trembling form against him and put your head on his chest instead, kissing your forehead over and over while his hands rubbed in soothing circles on your back and damned be him if he didn't feel his heart break upon your meltdown.

Your hands clung to him, like the only good thing in your life, meaning he, would disappear from your fingers. Like all the words your mother said would come true.

"Wanna... talk about it?" You could sense the hesitation in his voice for such phrase. He was trying though, for you, he would.

He had prepared you a dinner to finally pop that question to make it official for you both. But hours kept ticking and ticking and he grew concerned.

And now that he had you in his arms, weeping and clinging to him, his priorities changed. His thumb wiped away the falling tears and kissed your lips gently.

"It's... alot. I don't wanna bother you."

"No no, nada de eso. Tell me what happened, please." (None of that)

With a stifled sniff you curled even more into his chest, "Mom happened. Again."

An annoyed grunt erupted in his throat and his lips puckered. The urge to keep you at his side anchored tenfold in his mind.

"She knows we're together."

Oh...

His brow twitched together. That wasn't something he expected, but as inevitable as it was, the discomfit grew. He was aware something like this would happen, but knowing your parents now knew and got defensive about it to the point of making you cry, was something completely different. But again, something less to worry about, they knowing now was better for them to find out later.

"I guess she didn't take it well."

"Course she didn't. She told me you... were just using me for warming your sheets and that youd grow bored of me... and-"

He kissed you deeply while his hands cradled the broken pieces of you. As if with that kiss alone he'd glue the most important remnants back together as his thumb caressed your cheek with such care as if you were a ticking bomb about to explode.

"Your mother needs to shut the fuck up."

A chuckle. His lips curved in a soft smile that quickly faded upon your next words

"She's convinced that you'll break my heart cause you're older and stuff."

You sat back in the couch, gaining a bit of space to exhale a proper breath. He stood squeezing his hands together to place them next on his waist. Your heart pounded in your already feeble ribcage.

"I'm sorry..." Your lips pursed upon the sudden mood swing.

"Don't move. Stay there" He quickly disappeared in the room, leaving zero time for rebuttals, to quickly emerge with a small package on hand.

"You really need to stop apologizing for everything, guapa." He handed you the printed paper bag.

"What's this?"

"Open it." He sat next to you, swallowing the rest of the space with his frame and watching you, expectant as your eyes lit up as soon as the fuzzy socks came into your view

"I..."

"Saw 'em back at the store, and thought you might like them. I'm still convinced the washing machine has the other you lost."

You half giggled half sobbed.

"Thank you" He cradled you once more and ran his long fingers through your hair, gently massaging your scalp.

How could your mother could say such things when he was proving you wrong? How could she say he was only using you when he remembered tiny and insignificant details about yourself?

The sudden truth laid bare on your tongue, hoping it wouldn't change anything between you both.

"Also... Mr. Cufton said I could go back."

His eyes softened as he took your hand and squeezed it. He had been way too caught up living the ultimate fantasy of you that forgot that little detail. Still, he gulped.

"So...You're going back to your place?"

"I... I don't know if honest. Cufton said I could take a room from the upper floor, a bit cheaper since he feels at debt

for not answering this whole time. Or I could wait a week more and go back to my old apartment."

Your throat was dry. Fingers quivered underneath him and he inched closer, gathering the courage to finally speak again.

"What if..." He passed his tongue over his dry lips and tried again, "Why don't you move in with me?"

He'd be a liar to say that he didn't melt under that surprised look you gave him. He could see your breath hitching in your throat, feel the tremor under his warm skin. You blinked. He mistook that for a hesitation.

"If you want to that is." He removed his hand to slick back nervously his hair, "I know is soon but-"

"You want me to stay?"

"Yes."

He nodded vehemently, without dither. Your hand enveloped yours in a tender embrace. He knew words didn't do the trick completely for you, so he took your feet and removed the shoes, then the socks, earning him an airy giggle from you.

"What are you doing, Miguel?"

He dressed your feet in the socks he chose for you and smiled as they perfectly hugged your feet in a warm embrace. An extension of his affection towards you.

He then cradled your face again and kissed you. His lips devoured yours like his life depended on leaving you breathless. Only to break it enough to mumble in between soft pants.

"I'm showing you."

Your skin crawled the more your heart thumped. His lips devoured you again and again until he loomed over your frame in the couch. His hands explored each dent of your body to finally hook them on your thighs and pull you over his lap.

He gently squeezed your ass, ebbing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

A gasp escaped you when his mouth donned your skin with a trail of soft kisses as his hands removed your sweater, coming in contact with a familiar yet annoying undergarment for him, to return to your lips

"Stay."

His eyes begged, his thumb pressed against your lips and you kissed it. Your fingers taunted the hems of his wool sweater, and slowly removed it.

A big hand grazed up your spine, igniting alive a shudder to then pull you down gently by the nape and kiss you.

He never got enough of your lips if honest. And the way your frame perfectly slotted against his, only reinforced the belief you were in the right place at the right time.

A deep shade of red bloomed in your cheeks as he held your body effortlessly and took you to your shared bedroom. After all, he was about to show you the meaning of everything he had said ever since the friendship's line blurred.

He laid you down on the bed, your hands reached for his face as he unbuttoned your jeans and removed them with care, eyes twinkling the more skin he kept discovering.

Your toes rubbed up and down his clothed thighs. His breath was cut short as soon as his fingers grazed your stomach, his thumb licked your skin deliberately, until the rest of his fingers barged into the party of sensations they were about to unleash.

He had to mentally slap himself to keep those leering thoughts away. This wasn't about him and his cock, it was all about you and your pleasure. As it would be from now on.

The gaze he scrutinized you with had your chest blooming with a warm sensation you thought never in your life get to experience.

His hands roamed and worshipped every curve, bump and slope of skin in you to finally release your breast. Unlike the first time he nearly ripped your clothes off, he treated your garments with the same respect he treated you.

A tinge of flush adorned his sharp cheeks, pupils blown upon the beatific sight of your bare breast, rising and falling in a nervous tempo.

His head dipped to kiss the slope of your neck, and descended once more down your neck, kissing and tasting your skin under wet kisses. You quivered.

"Eres tan hermosa, mi amor."

He crooned as his lips inched closer and closer to your already erected nipple.

You didn't know whether to moan or gasp from the ministrations he was putting you under. Your hand immediately clutched his scalp as his tongue played with your taut peaks, but his limb made sure to remove the last bit of clothes he deemed necessary to go. The socks he just put you, were the only thing covering you against the cold temperature.

Once the panties were off your hips, his hands reached for your breast, squeezing them gently, together. His mouth tried to cup them both at the same time.

Your feet turned bold as they pushed bit by bit his sweatpants off, but they still hung on the middle of his butt, half exposing the growing erection between his own thighs

"Déjame disfrutarte, preciosa." (Let me enjoy you.)

His face once again dipped in the valley between your breasts, placing soft kitten licks down your abdomen, his tongue dangled at every contraction your torso did.

He smiled at the goosebumps erupting in your skin, but chuckled at the soft mewl you gave him when his nose nuzzled the inside of your thigh as he hooked it on his shoulder.

His thumb flicked softly your clit, then spreaded open your folds, revealing your sweetness to him, earning him a whimper.

"May I taste you, mi niña?"

Your head bobbed, light with the swirling sensations inside it.

Miguel kneeled before you and parted your thighs while pulling your hips closer to his face.

Your hands crumpled the sheets underneath you as soon as his mouth delved in your flesh.

Your hips stuttered when the vibrations of his groan rumbled in your skin. His tongue tasted and pressed against the pearly nub of nerves with such hunger his senses felt relieved upon having your scent all over his taste buds.

His tongue curled and flattened on your moist hole, slurping with gentle sucks before returning upwards with a dribble on your clit.

His name rolling of your mouth was the perfect melody for his ears. His lips cupped your mount and feasted like starving man.

The sheer though of having you completely for himself from now on ignited this urge to show you how your life with him would be.

Pleasure was one of the many things he had in store, and now that he had a complete access in your life, he was ready to prove himself the opposite of what your mom had told you.

Your toes curling in and your muffled hiccups was the cue he needed to raise on his feet once more. A frustrated whine remained in your throat while your chest rose up and down at the beat of your erratic breathings.

And by God, you were gorgeous.

He removed the last bit of clothes that imprisoned him and held him back from having you.

But as much as he wanted and ached to have you quivering, crying and biting the sheets underneath him, he'd enjoy you.

He'll teach you what it meant to be his.

Miguel cradled you once more to accommodate the pillows underneath your head, to then place you above them with the utmost care he could muster.

But you were urgent and pulled him closer, earning another soft chuckle from him.

"F-Fuck me." Pleasure had made your brain a liquid goo, swirling in your head. In truth you had forgotten what was like to be in such way with someone else. Life had made sure to keep you busy and with a constant dry spell, but as soon as Miguel came back to your existence, this close and personal, your body seemed to function again.

And what better proof of it than watch him coat himself in your drenched folds, hissing at the heat that kissed and begged to swallow him whole.

How long had it been for you? months? Years? both? You didn't know. Casual things and friends with benefits were off the list since you didn't have them neither the time for them, and for some reason your body felt off. Shut down.

But this man before you, made magic cause your body seemed entranced to the point of only being responsive to him. In the few times he had you, he had learnt all your reactions to his ministrations. He knew what you liked, what got you quivering like jelly and wet.

His hands roamed your body once more, having a proper taste of your burning heat irradiating from every pore indented in your skin. He cupped your face and leaned down to kiss you.

Soft, sweet, packed with devotion and something so scarily beautiful you refused to put a name on it yet to avoid tainting it.

What he had done out of you? What he had turned you into? All you wanted to do was drown in him and his devotion.

"I want you to enjoy it, ok?. The proper way. Can I?"

His swollen tip pushed against your folds, taunting your muscles snd waiting for your confirmation

"Can I make love to you, mi amor?"

The question itself sent a new wave of sparks soaring through your body.

A breathless yes on his mouth was everything he needed to guide his tip inside, to push in slowly but stopped upon sensing you tense a bit too tight around him.

"Fuck" He grunted at the sudden grip on him, "mfuck, Dios mio." He mumbled while squeezing the pillow underneath his hand and your head with a breathless laugh. "Relax, preciosa."

"It's been ages, sorry." You chuckled and slowly followed his breathings to ease the discomfort and relax, allowing him to push another inch inside, filling you slowly and carefully. His lips pecked your face, planting soft caresses all over your countenance, earning him a giggle.

What had you done to him? He'll never know for sure, the only thing certain in his life right now was you. You had granted him the utmost honor of being yours.

With a roll of his hips and a moan he pushed in all of him inside. The way your tightness grope and kissed him was a complete religious experience, and he wasn't precisely a devotee.

But when it came to you, he didn't mind being on his knees, worshipping and doting you like you were his salvation. His light.

The delicious whimpers that escaped you only fuelled his adoration tab higher. Your insides felt like heaven welcoming him everytime his tip reached the hilt within.

The room's once cold temperature vanished as soon as your veneration started.

Even if his thrusts were slow, Miguel made sure for you to feel them to the fullest. Delving in and out, earning lovely whimpers and other delectable noises to his already hazed brain.

He drank from your breaths, tasting your mouth until you begged for air. Your thighs squeezed his narrow waist, and my, he had to bite his lip with enough force to remind himself it wasn't about his pleasure but yours.

His sculpted and muscular thighs separated.

"Hold on me" Miguel wrapped your trembling arms around his neck as he hooked an arm underneath you, to finally pull you upwards, towards him.

"Miguel!" Your teeth clenched as this new angle allowed you both to feel everything tenfold.

Your breast flattened against his well chiseled chest, rubbing your nipples in a soft back and fro motion, thanks to his hips.

Large and cinnamon hands squeezed gently your pair of supple glutes, guiding them ontop of himself, aiding you to properly receive his adoration.

"I'm so so close..." You breathed in between ragged and sharp inhales, kissing his lips and face over and over to then choke as he increased the pace enough to have you clinging to him and bouncing gracefully on his cock. Your face hid in the crook of his neck.

"No, no, mi amor. Mírame, por favor, mírame" (Look at me, please.)

Pleasure surely did a gorgeous display of his presence in your face. All of that perfect countenance he loved to kiss was pearled in sweat, a deep shade of red spreaded through your whole body, mouth shaped in a perfect 'o' that sometimes mutated into an 'a', breathing his air, crawling under his skin, and chipping away any last bits of his guarded heart.

There was no turning back, as the arrow kept pointing forward.

What you have done out of me?

Only he would and could provoke these things on your body. You were his.

The realization of such epiphany blurred his senses for a second he hadn't noticed he was kissing and grazing your neck with the prong of his enlarged canines.

The once forgotten taste, came flooding his memories in the shape of a whimper from him.

"Stay" He gurgled and your grip around his waist tightened. You rested your forehead against his, while the constant makeout noises from your union filled in the space around you with gentle and slow slaps.

The choke hold Miguel had into every fiber of you made you shudder and cry, drunk on pleasure.

"Please, stay. I can't-" He choked upon feeling his strength seeping away at the verge of his peak looming ominously on him, "I need you. You're-"

Another grunt that ended up in a growl as you trembled in his arms and groaned. Your nails dug on his flesh.

"So fuckin good f'me, mi amor"

His praising had sent such a powerful spark up your spine, that your body lurched impossibly closer to him, His hands immediately hoarded your wailing body, not caring much at how painfully delicious your tight walls spasmed around and trapped him in.

He laid you down and immediately drowned all of those exquisite laments with a deep kiss as his peak finally exploded within you.

His nose scrunched up and his teeth bared with the growl as he came. His back flexed and rippled at every messy and drowning breath he gave.

His hands immediately cupped your face, caressing it, letting the boiling breaths to fan each other's mouths, his forehead rested ontop of yours. Eyes ever soft and adoring at your tussled and perfect state.

"Eres toda mía ahora, preciosa" (You're all mine now)

He murmured, voice in a new tinge you've never heard before but sent happy jumps to your heart and fill your eyes with a happy glow. You just nodded, beyond enthralled in what finally laid ahead for the both, with a tired but honest smile.

"Te quiero*."

----

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@maomaimao @m4dyy @miguelbaby @mrsoharaxx @spiderpapi2099

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara smut #bad teachings #Spotify

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undreaming-fanfiction · 9 months

Text

Hearts Don't Break Around Here

For the lovely @thefreakandthehair for her wedding. I hope it was everything you wanted it to be!

(also on Ao3)

It’s the small things that make Eddie Munson realize he’d like to make some changes to his life. The mountain of mugs on his desk tells him that, hey, maybe he should get a tea pot (or a bigger desk). The holes in his t-shirt don’t really bother him until he accidentally drops some very hot cigarette ash through one of them and he realizes that he should retire the t-shirt, or maybe re-purpose it for his next battle vest. The way he thinks about it, he needs the universe to send him a small sign.

When it comes to Steve Harrington? Eddie is the happiest in his life. Steve isn’t just a boyfriend, he is THE boyfriend, the alpha and omega of boyfriendness or boyfrienddom, Eddie still can’t decide what to call it. Whatever a boyfriend should be, Steve is. So Eddie doesn’t really think of any possible changes, everything is perfect, except…

Except they’re in bed together, trading lazy kisses and exchanging those stupid little words that make Eddie feel all warm and fuzzy and put a silly smile on Steve’s face. They’re holding hands, Eddie’s guitar calluses against Steve’s sport ones, and Eddie runs his finger over Steve’s and thinks.

I really, really want to put a ring on this man.

The realization hits him like a baby Demogorgon, and once he scrambles together a poor explanation of why he froze mid-kiss (“there was a bug, Steve, like an enormous bug, Shelob-like, I swear on Dustin’s mother!”), he courageously decides to explore his feelings on the matter.

Of course, they can’t get officially married. Yet. Eddie is an optimist, so there is always a yet to be added to any negative thought. It isn’t really about making it legal or seeing Steve in white (well, maybe a little) or having a big party. No, it’s just…

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes it’s about the promise.

Eddie hasn’t had many certainties in his life, but when they appear, he’s distrustful of them. Nothing lasts long for him and if it does, it only gets taken away the very second he starts feeling hopeful that maybe this is it, this is the one thing he’ll get to keep. He used to feel that way about Steve, but Steve Harrington never left. And when Eddie finally broached the subject, asked him why he tolerates Eddie’s humor, messiness, lack of drive and basically everything Eddie, Steve took Eddie’s hands in his and told him, “I’ve had my share of perfection for a lifetime, Eddie. It’s pretty but so cold. Being with you? It’s like…like being in the sun in the spring, when it’s warm and you’re lying on grass and there are ants walking over you and your clothes are likely to get stained, but you just don’t care because it’s the only place you want to be.” And as if that wasn’t too much for Eddie’s poor heart, he added, “I will never break your heart, Eddie. Never. And I don’t make these promises lightly.”

So no, no one can blame Eddie for wanting to give Steve something back. He wants Steve to be the first commitment Eddie dares to believe, and no matter what, he’ll get that ring.

If only it was that easy.

First of all, choosing anything in Hawkins is impossible. His dear old dad made sure that Eddie can’t go anywhere near jewelry shops without people blaming him for trying to steal stuff, so he makes a trip to Indy and stares to his heart’s content. It’s only when the shopkeeper, a nice elderly lady, asks him what style he’s looking for, he realizes – he has no idea.

He promises to come back the next weekend, a bit more decisive and well-prepared.

Eddie sucks at being inconspicuous, so he enlists help. Robin – after squishing his cheeks to death and beyond – agrees to be his spy and drags Steve off to an emergency meeting, claiming things are way more serious with her college girlfriend than they really are and, “I want to give her something nice, like a ring, but a ring that doesn’t say “marry me”, you get me Steve, no time for that when I’m up to my ears in books, so what would you say is an ideal ring? Is that different for guys maybe? What would you choose? I’m just curious because the only example of a guy with a ring I know is Eddie, and I’m not giving her a silver demon thing, nope, not ever.”

Eddie learns two things this way.

First: Steve doesn’t have clear preferences for jewelry, he is all for “seeing the thought behind it”. Eddie wonders if Steve realizes how many thoughts he has and not all of them are ring-worthy.

Second: Steve thinks having an engraving on the inside is the most romantic thing ever, even something simple can become so personal and touching. What should the engraving be? Robin doesn’t know.

The next weekend comes and Eddie drives back to Indy again (Wayne is covering for him, telling Steve he asked Eddie to run some errands for him) and he’s better prepared this time. He chooses a simple gold ring with a yellow stone, just a small one, almost invisible, but Steve’s sweater is always on his mind, so it’s a good choice. He thinks about the engraving too, and his list is, in hindsight, atrocious, and he might have written it when seriously sleep-deprived, but still. He cringes at his own handwriting.

To my Ozzy

You’re so metal, baby

I tolerate basketball for you

To my only reason why 1986 was good

Get a mug collection with me?

But there is just one that Eddie sees and thinks , this is it . So when the nice lady asks him what to engrave, he hands her a paper with his messy handwriting that simply says:

You’re my home, Stevie

The moment of elation and victory is short-lived. She asks him for Steve’s ring size, and well. He should have probably found that out, shouldn’t he?

He promises to return to the shop as soon as he knows. On his way back, he tries to figure out an inconspicuous way of measuring Steve’s fingers.

Once again, Eddie sucks at being inconspicuous.

He tries wrapping a measuring tape around Steve’s finger when they’re asleep. That nearly earns him a smack in the face with Steve’s bat because he’s a light sleeper and forever scarred by their Upside Down adventures. At least Eddie manages to persuade Steve that it was just a piece of his pajamas stuck on Steve’s finger so he doesn’t question the weird feeling that woke him up.

He practices measuring by touch and holding Steve’s hands a lot. The margin of error is in centimeters, so he gives this idea up pretty easily. He blames it on not having enough time to practice, of course.

He (inconspicuously, of course) wonders aloud whether his hands are larger than Steve’s. They place their palms against each other, notice that Eddie’s fingers are slimmer and longer and Steve’s are shorter and stronger, but otherwise? Not helpful.

The breakthrough finally comes when Eddie actually volunteers to wash the dishes for once, but asks Steve to hold on to his rings. He places them on Steve’s fingers and notices with barely contained excitement that yes, one of his rings actually fits Steve’s ring finger (some shuffling around was required, “I don’t want to lose any of the rings, Steve, they need to fit very, very precisely!”).

Eddie has his answer now. He ties a small ribbon to the ring so he doesn’t forget which one it is, basically races to Indy again after calling Wayne and using the agreed code word to have his uncle send him to run some imaginary errands again.

He bursts into the shop, wheezing and holding the ring between his fingers. “This big!” he chokes out and collapses against the counter while the shopkeeper (Margaret, they’re on first name terms now since he’s been ring shopping for around a month) hands him a glass of water.

“Your Steve must be pretty special,” she smiles at him, and Eddie’s brain short-circuits because Indy is better, but definitely not accepting, and this lady has been so nice, has he blown it? Has he ever mentioned he has a boyfriend? Shit, he must have…

He opens his mouth like a fish several times. “Uh…m…Stevie…is, yes?” he says and prays he’s not going to get kicked out in the next twenty seconds. “The…the stone reminds me of him. He’s like a ray of sunshine.”

Margaret just laughs and refills his glass. “Good for you. It’s nice to see someone have the courage. I wish I had it in my day.”

Eddie is laughing with her now, the water surface in his glass is swaying from side to side and tells her, “Your day isn’t over, it’s never over until we’re done breathing.” She gives him the kindest smile anyone outside of his found family has ever spared him. It keeps him warm on his way back to Hawkins.

He picks up the ring in three days, he can’t wait any longer, and Margaret is kind enough to get the engraving as a priority. She meets him outside of the shop in the evening, hands him the small blue velvet box and grasps his hand before letting go. “Go make that handsome young man happy,” she says and Eddie has never promised to do something so easily and so fast.

He stashes the box in the drawer with his formal wear and waits for the perfect opportunity. That resolution lasts him for about one week because another thing Eddie sucks at is being patient. On top of that, Eddie knows in his heart that Steve has had a lifetime of grand gestures and pretend perfection. Sure, Steve deserves all the romance and luxury Eddie can afford, but if he says he’s even happier in their cramped home, on their old bed, with the constant DIY projects, homemade meals, and bad movies rented from Family Video, Eddie will respect that. Hell, Eddie loves that.

They’re cuddling together on a sofa, dishes unwashed and piled up in the sink, and the latest B-list sci-fi movie playing on their small TV. Eddie’s holding Steve’s hand again and he traces his fingers, feels the bare skin and realizes – this is it. This is when I do it.

He kisses Steve and promises he’ll be right back, he just needs to quickly take a note of something for the next campaign. Eddie doesn’t even try to conceal the rush he’s in, he dives into their bedroom and completely destroys the fragile order in his drawer to get to the priceless box. His hands are shaking, but he’s determined, he opens the door again, slips into their living room and-

And Steve is there, smiling at him like his own personal ray of sunshine, a bit shy but radiant, just as he always is. And in his hand-

“No way,” chuckles Eddie and inspects the blue box Steve is holding to confirm that yes, it bears the logo of Margaret’s shop. “When did you get to Indy?”

Steve takes a step closer and tucks Eddie’s unruly hair behind his ear. “Let’s just say I skipped some basketball practices. And before you ask, yes, I had to use blackmail to keep Sinclair quiet.”

“Oh?” Eddie’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but he can’t help it. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing big. Just that I still have the list with potential date ideas with Max he forgot at my place and I’m holding that hostage. Now, I believe I have a question to ask. And…” he looks down at Eddie’s trembling fingers, “maybe you do too?”

Eddie kisses him, short and sweet. “That depends, are you going to say yes?” It’s playful, but there’s also a hint of insecurity, the fear that Steve managed to weaken but never truly destroy. And maybe it’s the coward’s way out, but Eddie needs to know if he’s right in thinking Steve wants this too, if maybe he just got the ring because he wanted to make Eddie happy or assumed that’s what Eddie wanted. Which duh, he does, but this is not about

“I told you, Eddie,” and Steve’s hand is back on his cheek, stroking it, grounding Eddie. “I will never break your heart. And I trust you so much that I want to give mine to you. If you’ll have it.”

He leans his forehead against Steve’s, smiling at the ridiculousness of the question. “If I’ll have it? Stevie, I do. So much. I will cherish it, polish it, even dust it because I know you love everything to be clean.” Steve snorts, but Eddie continues, determined to finish his improvised speech. “I know it’s not the life you thought you’d have. I can’t give you a real wedding, kids, I can’t even kiss you in public. And I know it doesn’t change much between us, but I just want to give you this. I want to give you a real promise that your heart is safe with me, just like mine is safe with you. And it will always be.”

They exchange their “yes” between kisses, and when they catch their breath, the rings follow. Steve loves his, of course he does, and he tears up at the engraving, but then Eddie sees his own silver band and notices something written inside too.

I will follow you to Mordor, Eds.

“You remembered,” he whispers as Steve pushes the ring onto his finger. “You don’t even know the books and you remembered.”

Laughing, Steve shakes his head. “Don’t give me too much credit. I had to badger Dustin to tell me what you said during that spring break. I…I just thought it’s fitting, you know. It was fucked up, cruel and painful, and yet…I’d go through all of it again, just to be with you here.”

Crushing Steve in a hug, Eddie knows exactly how he feels.

The next morning, Eddie actually wakes up early. He manages to leave the bed without rousing his fiancé, Jesus Christ, he’s never going to get used to saying it or seeing the ring on his finger. Sneaking towards the phone, he finds his wallet and the card that Margaret gave him, and when she picks up, he doesn’t even give her a chance to announce her name.

“Hello Margaret, my dear,” he drawls, “when were you planning to tell me that you know Steve too?”

He can hear her chuckling. “Well, dear. I thought me saying that Steve is handsome implied it?”

“Oh.” Eddie isn’t entirely speechless, but it’s close. “So…how did you know it was…you know. My Steve? And not any other Steve?”

There’s a strange sound, possibly Margaret sipping coffee, before she responds. “I could tell you it’s the experience I have. Or that I had a hunch. But – he came in wearing a yellow sweater. A very familiar-looking yellow. And he said he’s looking for an engagement ring for someone who is non-conforming, passionate and loves silver, red and black. It wasn’t difficult to put two and two together, especially after he told me what he wanted engraved.” Another sip. “But that’s enough about that, what I want to know is – who proposed first?”

Eddie laughs into the phone and switches hands so he can admire the silver ring glistening in the morning light. “I’d say it was a tie. But hey, we both said yes. Thank you so much, Margaret, for all you’ve done. And, uh. If we ever get to have a wedding, you’re invited.”

“It would be my pleasure,” she says and Eddie thinks she really means it.

“Great, I will call you then. And Margaret?” He twirls the cord around his fingers, only sparing a second to form his thoughts. “In case you find some of that courage too? I can guarantee you a plus one, so be a brave lady and get one, hmm?”

Her laughter follows him as he hangs up and returns to the bed to join the future Mr. Munson.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic

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