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#but also…they’ve had 3 months to come up with a plan so :
tojisbbygworl · 10 days
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The Apartment Across The Street - Sukuna x Reader
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In the short time he watches her, he learns 3 new things: 1. She has a mirror on the left side of the window. 2. She is completely unaware of how easily someone could see her in all her half-naked glory. 3. Sukuna could overpower her if it came down to it.
Or maybe it’s 4 things. From the beating of his heart and the warm rushing feeling heading towards his dick, he learns the drug he thought he needed might not be a drug at all.
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Words: 6.7k
Tags - 18+ MDNI, No Use of Y/N, No Curses, Set in late 90s/early 00s, Smut, Angst, High Sex, Missionary, Degredation, Marijuana, Slight x Toji (I can't help myself)
WARNINGS - Dead Dove, Dark, Non-Con/Dub-con, Breaking and Entering, Sukuna and Toji are criminals, Sukuna's a hitman, Choking, Violence
AO3 Version
Masterlist
author's note: Heyyyy! Okay I went a little too hard like I always do so this is a bit long and (imo) it get's a little intense so be warned. I hope you enjoy hopefully I have some motivation to keep writing. art cred: @innaillus
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That apartment used to be empty.
Sukuna hadn’t been home in a week. He doesn’t mind. He’s learned to not have too many hopes or expectations in this line of work. Besides, he prefers being his own boss. He accepts contracts when he needs money then he’s off until it runs out. Doesn’t matter if they take days or even weeks.
Shorter jobs like this one weren’t his treat. They don’t pay as much as he likes, but it works out. These apartments were a bit shitty, they didn’t cost too much. And, he was right in the middle of the city. Easy to meet clients. The clubs went on all night long. Which is exactly how late he was out when he was home. Actually, he was planning to go out tonight. Meet up with Toji and see if he can’t get a woman in his bed by 2 am.
He wondered how long it would take to see his newest neighbor. The way the apartments in the complex are built, you could easily see into your neighbor’s bedroom. 'State guidelines say blinds aren’t required. You buy them,' was the response he received when he brought the problem up to the landlord. A lot of people invested in curtains, maybe they hadn’t bought any yet. He saw a bed, but it seems to be the only thing they’ve managed to set up. There were a couple boxes with flaps wide open sitting beside it.
After a few more moments of rumination, he closed his curtain and laid down on his bed waiting for a text to come over. In truth, he couldn't wait to see who was unlucky enough to be his new window neighbor. The last one didn’t go too well. They also didn’t invest in curtains and he isn’t entirely sure if he’s the reason they moved out, but he’s sure they didn’t appreciate catching his stare multiple times a day. And that one time at midnight.
-
All it took was the next morning.
Sukuna’s eyes crept open and he stared towards the ceiling. The girl he brought home last night was dead asleep and naked on his chest. He yawned and wiped his face tiredly. He nudged the girl off of him a bit, then sat up on the side of his bed. Ugh, he felt like shit. Toji always went entirely too hard when they went out, but Sukuna doesn’t mind. He has nowhere to be. Nothing to do. 
He got up and stretched then walked to the bathroom. As he completed his morning routine, he pondered about what today would behold for him. This is another reason he hated short jobs. Sukuna loves free time, but only if there’s something to do with it. There never really is.
He could kill that girl in his bedroom. In fact, he could have killed any girl he brought home since he moved in half a year ago. But the last time he made his job his hobby, it didn’t go so well for him. It was too close of a call, and getting arrested for murder just isn’t worth it. He could spend a couple months in the pen, not years at a time.
He spat out his toothpaste. Life was so fucking mundane. He had no life goals, barely any friends, his little brother hates him, and he works alone. All things he doesn’t actually care about, but shit, when is he going to get some excitement? Nothing gets him going anymore.
He needs something that will make him feel. A drug of some sort? But that doesn’t seem right to him. Even now as he walks back in the room staring at the woman in his bed, he feels nothing. If she woke back up and decided she wanted to have sex with him, he would say yes, but only because it’s something to do. He’s not feeling any particular way about her.
The moment he sat back down on the bed, she started shifting around. A few seconds later, she lifts her head and yawns. “Good morning.” She giggles, she leans over and kisses his cheek. Sukuna grunts.
The girl looks around the dark room. “It is morning, right?” She doesn’t let him answer before she stands up and opens the curtains. “Oh wow,” she exclaims. “I can see directly into your neighbor’s room.” She says. He still doesn’t get up, just hums at her.
“She’s cute though.”
Sukuna perks up upon hearing that. “Oh yeah? I haven’t seen her yet. She’s new.”
This was the first time since they’ve met that she said something interesting, but unfortunately for him, she drops the subject immediately and walks back into bed, leaving the curtains open. Sukuna holds back his sigh. Does he really want to spend the rest of his morning with this girl? It was half past 8. Way too early.
“I'm going to start getting ready for work,” he says without skipping a beat. She stops in her tracks and blinks at him, clearly not expecting that. It’s silent for a few moments. Sukuna’s not sure what she’s waiting on, but if it’s for him to say he’s kidding or let her stay, she’s sorely mistaken.
“Oh, I thought you were contracted,” she says nervously.
‘I only work when I feel like it, gorgeous.’ Sukuna inwardly curses himself for his suave nature. “Yeah. I got a contract. In an hour.”
His curtness and annoyed expression did good to make her feel completely and totally unwanted. The girl awkwardly smiled at him. “Oh, ha ha. Yeah…okay.” Sukuna got up and walked out of the room. Give her a little space to feel like shit while she gets ready to leave. He makes himself a cup of coffee, his face still that same blank expression even after he hears her rushing out the door from behind him. When she’s gone he takes himself back into his room.
He walks up to his window to close the curtains once more until someone catches his eye. He freezes and his eyebrows shoot upwards. That girl was right. She was cute. And he had the perfect view of her. She seemed to be posing or checking herself out. Sukuna wasn’t sure which one it was, but he hoped she didn’t stop. That bikini she had on was doing wonders for her, and him.
Something was off. Looking at her made him…tense. His hands were gripping the curtains, he was biting the inside of his cheek, his leg was shaking; Was it anxiety? No, she’s not making him nervous. What he’s feeling is euphoric. He likes it. He wants to grip her bare waist and squeeze her until she bruises.
In the short time he watches her, he learns 3 new things: 1. She has a mirror on the left side of her window. 2. She is completely unaware of how easily someone could see her in all her half-naked glory. 3. Sukuna could overpower her if it came down to it. Or maybe it’s 4 things. From the beating of his heart and the warm rushing feeling heading towards his dick, he learns the drug he thought he needed might not be a drug at all.
-
It doesn’t take long after that to finally meet her.
Before taking his most recent job, Sukuna had nearly consumed everything in his fridge. What was left was now finished and he spent a lot of his morning sulking at a half empty milk carton, his breakfast for the day. He hated eating out, it messed with his figure.
The local grocery wasn't too bad of a walk from his place, although he hated carrying everything back. He always bought a few necessities and a few ingredients to quickly whip something up for his dinner. Today, he’d have to bulk up if he doesn’t want to keep coming back.
As much as he hated the public, shopping never seemed to be a problem for him. He was tall and intimidating, he never smiled, he was always tense; people tended to avoid him like the plague. He appreciated it. But, as he enters the frozen meal aisle with his cart half full he wishes that just for a moment, he looked approachable. Then, this would be much easier.
There she was, in sweatpants and a cropped tube top, looking at the frozen pizzas. She looked like she had been home all day. She was much cuter now that he could see her better. A lot cuter. She’s pretty as hell.
Thank goodness, too. He already knew what her body looked like, what with her constantly taking pictures of herself in front of the window. She liked to play dress up, she would try on entirely different outfits before she was satisfied. Pretty soon, the colors of her bras and panties would be ingrained into his memory.
He stood there looking her up and down for a few more seconds before he started browsing once more. Although he really was looking for food he wanted, he used this opportunity to slowly get closer to her. He pretended to be interested in some frozen broccoli and he snuck a look at her. To his surprise, and enjoyment, she had done the same. When they made eye contact, she jerked and looked away. A couple moments after that, she grabbed her food and walked away into another aisle.
Sukuna chuckled to himself. She wouldn’t get away that easily. He dropped the broccoli in his cart and followed after her. He hadn’t seen which aisle she’d gone into, so he kept walking down and looking into each one until he found her trying to get some chips from a high shelf. He smiled upon seeing her struggle. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.
He managed to walk right up behind her and reach for the chips she was trying to get before she got startled. She gasped a bit and looked up at him. He looked down at her. Fuck, she was pretty. His heart started to pound, he could practically salivate at the idea of taking her home.
He hands her the chips before she can say anything, then walks away. Before he’s out of her sight he hears her say, “Thank you so much.”
Her cadence, the velvety softness of her voice; it made him want to drop to his knees. How sweet would she sound if he bit into her neck? How soft is her yelp when she stubs her toe? How shrill is her scream when she’s in pain?
Her appreciation made him stop in his tracks. He turned over his shoulder to look at her. She seemed nervous and her eyes were uncertain. Sukuna began to feel restless. So many ideas of what he could do to her if he got her alone were rushing through his mind and she was none the wiser. This aisle has been empty and no one has come by. He could take her right now.
Instead, he looks her up and down. “Yeah, sure.” And then he walks away with his shopping. He leaves wondering when next they’ll meet, she does the same as she watches his back.
-
“Still haven’t called the maintenance guy, huh? Lazy jackass.”
Sukuna turns his head to the side and glares at his unwanted guest. Toji may have been his best friend, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t want to break his fat neck and bury him in the park. Besides, that title meant jack shit. They met in jail and Toji helped him get on his feet when Sukuna’s sentence was up. Toji never really left him alone and Sukuna stayed because his family was rich. If anything, they were close acquaintances who had sex sometimes.
Speaking of Toji’s money, the asshole grew up in an affluent family which means his standards were a bit too high for the humble abode that Sukuna prefers. It was probably the most annoying part about him. He was complaining about the door to the bathroom. It didn’t close correctly so you had to force it shut. Something that just isn’t enough of a problem to be bothered to try and fix.
“Stop coming over if it annoys you so much,” Sukuna responds, taking another drag from their second blunt for the morning. He was finally starting to feel something from it and he didn’t want to hear Toji whining about bullshit.
“Nah, I think I’ll keep coming. Especially with your fine ass neighbor.” Toji walked away again, not seeing Sukuna’s head jerk towards him. What was he talking about? Sukuna didn’t tell him about her. Did he see her?
“Why the fuck are you in my room?” He gets up to follow behind him. Sukuna looks down the hallway and sees both his room and the bathroom doors wide open. The bathroom was empty. “Get out.”
He starts walking towards his room door but jumps back when Toji rushes out of it. “Come look at this,” he says, grabbing his arm.
Toji had this crazed grin on his face and he was tugging him along impatiently. “What the hell are you-” Sukuna’s words die in his throat as he gazes upon what had Toji so excited. It was his beautiful neighbor changing in front of her mirror again except, there was a big problem. She had never been completely naked before.
Holy shit, her body could stop a truck. Sukuna let his jaw drop. His eyes raked her from her breasts to her legs. She would turn around occasionally, walk back and forth in front of the window, oh he loved the way her tits bounced. He wanted her on top of him, his dick sliding in and out of her while he latched onto her nipple.
“She’s sexy as fuck, huh?” Sukuna’s unceremoniously snapped out of his trance by Toji’s comment. He turns his head towards him looking at his smile and twinkling eyes. “She do this all the time? Does she even know?” Toji gasps and looks him in the eye. “Does she do it on purpose?”
I’m that moment, a switch had flipped inside of Sukuna. Toji was watching her before he brought him in here. He saw her naked first. He shouldn’t have seen her at all. The warm swarm of butterflies in his abdomen had fluttered away, a feeling of rage building in his heart instead. She was Sukuna’s to look at, not Toji’s.
To answer his question, Sukuna shrugs. Then, they both turn towards her again only to make eye contact with her. They see her gasp, cover herself and shriek before running from the window. “Fuck,” they say in unison before shutting the curtain.
“I blame you for that,” Toji says despite both of them being at fault. He puts his hands in his pockets and walks out of the room. “Where’s the blunt?”
Toji may have forgotten about that little encounter, but Sukuna doesn’t think he can forget anytime soon. He hates that Toji got to see her like that. They still haven’t spoken more than once to each other, and now she knows he’s a pervert that stares at her through their windows. Sukuna scowls at the ground then slams his hand into the wall. She’ll leave soon just like the last one did, but this time, he doesn’t want to accept that as a possibility.
He gives himself time to calm down before joining Toji again. He can’t bring work home again.
-
It was over.
He saw her once after that incident. Waiting for Toji to pick him up for the night, he stood outside the local gas station smoking a cigarette. She’d been on his mind since. She invested in curtains, unfortunately. She was really uncomfortable. He’s not even sure if she’s left the apartment.
Thinking about what happened made him furious. If Toji hadn’t gone into his room he would have never seen her. Oh he just can’t shut the hell up about the shape of her ass and how he would let her suffocate him with her gorgeous thighs. Sukuna sighed, her thighs were gorgeous weren’t they?
She was a missed opportunity. There are so many ways he could have started something with her. It’s not like she didn’t like him, had they met again before that, he’s sure he could have gotten her number. Usually, missing out on a woman wasn’t that bothersome, but she was different for him. He looked forward to beating his dick under the windowsill while she tried on clothes. His imagination wasn’t bad, but by the time he came in his hands, his dick was red and sore and his arm was tired.
His memory is not enough. He wants her.
He looks at the time on his watch. A quarter ‘til midnight. He rolls his eyes. Toji’s always late. A quick snack is in order.
Sukuna mindlessly stares at the powdered donuts wondering if he really feels like fucking up his clothes and having dirty fingers. He hates club bathrooms, the one here is just as bad, and he doesn’t want to lick his fingers. Maybe he won’t. But right before he decides to leave, the door opens. He turns his head upon hearing the small ring of a bell, but doesn’t pay attention to the culprit until they’re in the same aisle. “Oh shit,” he said before he could stop himself.
He tries to look away before she notices, but it’s too late. He looks back at her and grimaces. The girl is shaken to her core. Poor thing is afraid. And while Sukuna feels a bit bad about making such a cutie so frightened, it kind of…warms his heart. She takes in a deep breath and twists back around. She doesn’t even buy anything. She just leaves.
He almost chases her. He stands in the aisle still reveling in her presence. He breathes deeply thinking about how nice it felt to have such power over someone. Hm.
Sukuna leaves the store only a few moments after her. Toji’s BMW was running next to a pump as he got out of the car. “Oh shit, there you are.” He grins. “Guess who I just saw.”
“I know. She was running from me.” Sukuna says, getting into the passenger seat.
Toji cackles while driving away. “Damn, so she’s scared of us, huh?” Sukuna shrugs. “She looked like it. Girl was huffing it. Actually…she ran down the street towards where we’re going.”
Sukuna raises a brow at him. Toji doesn’t say anything and just keeps smiling. “So?”
He turns on his beamers and slows down as he drives between the apartment buildings. Sukuna’s eyes widen as he realizes just what Toji’s trying to do. And soon his lips follow. Just up ahead was a figure with a hoodie walking very quickly. They turn around and immediately shield their eyes from the bright lights. It was her.
She seemed confused at first, and the bright light contrasted with the darkness of the night blinded her from seeing who was in the car. However, she didn’t stop walking or slow down. She decided to mind her business instead. It could be anyone. Anyone. Even though it was the same car waiting at the gas station.
Despite her telling herself that she’s okay, she couldn’t help but notice how they were matching her speed. And that once they had gotten right behind her, the window was rolled down. And that she still had a block left to go.
“Ay,” Sukuna shouted from behind her, effectively terrifying her. She turned to see his smile and upon further investigation, she saw Toji’s from the driver’s seat. Oh no. “You can’t say hi? You scared of me?” He taunts.
She ran.
-
And that was the worst thing she could have done.
There have been a few recent instances that made her question her move to this city. She was hoping to start a new life, away from her family, away from her ex, make some new friends; she didn’t think she would be planning to move out after a couple months.
That man…she didn’t know what the hell his problem was. Why did he and his friend follow her out of the gas station? Was he crazy? Did she do something to him? Since they followed her, she’s been racking her mind trying to figure out what the hell she did to deserve this. Before that, she had only ever spoken to him once at the grocery store. He was extremely intimidating, but she was intrigued by him. She didn’t mean to stare, but he was very attractive. Clearly he had seen it as some sort of invitation. Maybe he followed her into that aisle and it wasn’t just an act of kindness.
Coming home after work had become so much more nerve wracking. In fact, coming out of her unit brings her horrible anxiety. She’s constantly looking over her shoulder. Tries to pretend the building across doesn’t even exist. She doesn’t understand what took her so long to get curtains; it just wasn’t a priority for her. Either way, she didn’t deserve to be punished for her forgetfulness.
She’s in a weird position where the longer she goes without seeing him, the more worried she becomes even though she never wants to see him or his friend again. Currently, she was in the elevator heading up to her apartment. She was catching her breath and trying to relax now that she was safe. She does this everyday now.
She couldn’t wait to be home. The entire day she’s been feeling like complete crap. Her heart refused to leave her stomach. She dropped so many cups behind the bar that she spent more time sweeping and wiping up drinks than making them. And she was on the verge of tears the entire time. It was nice to be home, but she wondered how bad it would be tomorrow.
In fact, it was so bad today that although she was physically relaxed, her brain just wouldn’t be quiet. It kept telling her to stay alert, that there was still something waiting for her. She tried her best to ignore it and enjoy her night. She was going to kick off her shoes, rip off all her clothes, warm up her leftovers and hit her bong. She was off tomorrow and she is not planning on leaving her room at all.
She messed with her keys when she approached her door. All the apartments had two locks, a deadlock and a lock on the handle, but she was looking for another that she could attach herself. The home goods store near her didn’t have any promising ones, so she had to wait on a shipment.
She reached for the handle to unlock it. Her hand twisted the lever and she retracted it immediately. Her heart starts racing once more, but then she realizes the door was still closed. When she can’t get the door open, she sighs in relief. The deadlock was still intact and locked. The apartments are just shitty.
As relieved as she was in that moment, this just meant she had another problem to deal with. She couldn’t go with one of her locks not working, especially not the handle. In fact, maybe she’ll deal with it tonight. She does have tools and she can be pretty handy when she needs to be.
Like she wanted to, she kicks off her shoes and rips off her jacket. She almost takes off her clothes before she notices a certain smell in the air. Her apartment smelled of weed, but it smelled like someone was actively smoking right at that moment. Maybe it was her next door neighbor.
She walks through her silent home. Maybe she should get a cat. There are quite a few friendly strays around. She could afford-
What was that noise?
A bump. In her bedroom.
What could it have been? Had her worst fears come true?
No. It’s not possible…so why had that sinking feeling returned in full force? There was nothing in her room. There was no one in her room…
-
Toji had broken the lock for him. 'Just record it for me,' was his end of the bargain.
The place was just as cute as he thought it was. She still had a lot of things unpacked, and she hadn’t gotten a couch for the living room. Hm. He wonders if she really is planning on leaving. That would not be good.
He would want her to stay, but if she can get away from him, at least he’ll get a taste of her.
She leaves her weed out. Hm…he would enjoy this better if he were high. And he’ll make her smoke too. 
When he heard her coming closer to her room, he put the bong down and stood up. Her room was small and it was pitch black, the only light coming from the embers in the bowl. He hit her closet door and she heard it. Fuck. He hopes she doesn’t get a weapon out.
And she didn’t. This girl is…something else.
He hides right behind the door in between the wall and the hinges. Then, he waited quietly and patiently until she slowly opened the door and turned on the light. And before she could try to look around, he slammed the door shut behind her.
-
It all happened in a second.
She heard the door slam and time froze. She told herself then and there, that she was going to die tonight. She knew who her killer would be before she turned around. Did she even want to?
She didn’t have a choice, her body reacted before she could think. All she saw was a small scowl, he had brown eyes, but they looked tainted with blood. His hands, his large hands, shot towards her head and before she could scream he trapped her mouth shut. His other hand gripped the back of her head.
She fought him as violently as she could. She scratched his face, pulled his hair, tried to poke him in the eyes; but he was quick to show her that he was much stronger than her. He pulls his hand off of her mouth and smacks her across the face. She can only scream for a second before his hand is back on her mouth and he pushes her into the bed.
Sukuna takes his hand off of the back of her head and squeezes her neck. He still holds her mouth shut. She gets weaker and weaker as the oxygen leaves her brain. He leans down towards her face to speak to her. “You want to live?”
Tears had long been streaming down her face, but this is the point where she finally breaks down wailing. She lets her arms fall and Sukuna loosens his grip on her neck. But only slightly. She takes a deep breath and cries into his hand. “Answer me,” he says. “Come on, pretty girl.”
She cries a bit more before nodding her head in defeat. “I know. You’re gonna do what I say?”
She nods again. “You’re not gonna scream when I take my hand off?” She sniffles and sobs again. “Because you want to fucking live, right? Right?” He tightens his grip on her neck again. She kicks her feet and nods as best as she can. “Go turn off your light and turn on your lamp. You’re gonna smoke with me.”
He gets off her and watches her to make sure she does what he asks. It takes her a minute, she lays there quietly sobbing and wiping her tears while Sukuna takes another hit of her bong, but eventually she gets up to turn on her lamp, then flip her light switch. “Lock the door too. I like the feeling of extra privacy when I’m taking a woman to bed.”
-
He disgusts her.
He forces her to take several long hits that had her in horrible coughing fits. And of course, it wasn’t long before she was completely inebriated. She couldn’t really move too much, or think too much. But even though she was out of commission, she could hear every word Sukuna said to her.
He talked her ear off about how he’d been looking at her for a week before they met at the grocery store. All the way up until she realized just how exposed she was from catching him and his friend staring. It was her fault, is what he said. He said she was stupid to not think anyone could see her. She should have gotten blinds or curtains when she moved in. A fucking dumbass bitch.
That’s how she felt.
He taunted her as he watched her take her clothes off. His dick was already in his hand, he had been hard for a while. Imagining his dick finally pounding into her as he squeezes the life out of her.
‘I think you wanted someone to watch you,’ he said to her. She hung onto every word he said, answered every question he had. ‘You’re an attention seeking slut, aren’t you? Nod your head.’ And she did. ‘What’s your name?’ And she told him. ‘Take that shit off faster and come hit this again.’
She was completely out of it, but instead of floating, she sank. She sunk deeper into the bedsheets, Sukuna weighing her down with every word. Every stroke of his hand on her thigh, every lick on her neck and collarbone, every bite on her chest. When he reached down between her legs and stroked her clit, she moaned, then cried in shame.
“Shhhh,” he whispered in her ear from behind her. “You’re gonna love me. And if you’re good I won’t hurt you.” He kisses her ear, then nibbles on it. He leaves a trail of wet kisses down the side of her neck. She cries and shakes, twisting her head away from him as best as she could. Sukuna’s hands explore her body eagerly. He can’t decide whether he wants to grip her hips or play with her nipples. She was so soft, just as he imagined.
He flips her onto her back. “Look at me, baby.” She opens her eyes only slightly, her tears blurring her vision completely before falling. He takes his hand to cup her cheek and wipe them with his thumb. As she gazed upon his naked body on top of hers, she accepts her fate: this man was going to rape then kill her.
He looked deranged. His brows were knit together with a lopsided grin. Her body is racked with sobs once more. “It’s okay,” he tells her. “Shhhh.” He slowly brings his thumb wet with salty tears to her mouth. She tries to pull her head away, but he quickly attaches his hands back to her mouth and head then he leans down towards her. “I thought you said you wanted to live.”
She’s actually not sure at this point. Does she want to live with this trauma? Does she want to continue being this man’s neighbor for him to torture however he sees fit? Does she want to have to look at his building every single day living in fear that he’ll do it again? Living in fear of his friend getting any bright ideas?
“Just relax.” He lets go of her head and goes for her neck. She moans as he bites and sucks on it, making sure to leave a mark reminding her of what he did. It won’t be the only one.
Sukuna slowly takes his hands and lifts both of her legs in the air. He licks his fingers while looking at her, then bites his lip as he plays with her clit once more. She breathes harder and harder with every rub. They don’t break eye contact, it does something to him. He’s reveling in her fear. Her eyes were shot, her mascara and eyeliner running down her face. It made her look even more beautiful. She was making him feral.
Sukuna’s dick was an angry scarlet and dripped precum all over her leg where it rested. He was big and it scared her even more. As his eyes explored her body, he got hungrier and hungrier. He slides a finger inside of her and starts pumping. Her pussy was slick with her arousal.
“Fuck,” he whispered putting in another finger. He pumped his fingers hard enough to make her wetness splash. She threw her head back and arched her chest into the air. She sounded just as sweet as he thought she would. She was turning out to be everything he wanted and more. He wasn’t waiting any longer.
He yanked his fingers out of her and searched her bedside table for his camcorder. She whined when he removed himself from her and watched him. Sukuna pressed record.
“Say hi to Toji,” he told her, sticking the lens in her face. She closes her eyes and tries to avoid the camera. He grips her chin with his fingers and forces her head forward. “Ain’t she pretty?” Sukuna pulls away from her face to record her body. He takes her tit in his hand to play with. He jiggles and pulls on her nipple before smacking it. When she squealed he did it again.
“He’s gonna love watching me fuck the shit out of you.” Sukuna sat and balanced the recorder on her nightstand perfectly angled to show their torsos and hips. He gets back on the bed to grab her waist and pull her towards his. He groaned when he felt his dick rub against her pussy. “You know who I’m talking about, right? My friend? You know he saw you before I did.”
He pauses to spit into his hand and starts jerking his throbbing shaft. “I wanted to kill that fucker.” Sukuna leans over once more and kisses her several times before capturing her lips in one long and forceful kiss. He rubs his dick against her entrance as he does this, with a desperate moan from both of them to accompany it. Sukuna rests his forehead against hers. “Tell me you’re mine.” His eyes are fiery, and she doesn’t wish to find out what will happen if she fails to do what he asks.
His tip begins to poke through her entrance. She whimpers and he brings his head down and bites her lip. “Come on…”
“I’m yours-” He finally starts tucking his dick into her. The feeling of being inside her was heaven on Earth. He wasn’t ashamed of how loudly he moaned. She was louder anyway. They always are. Even when they don’t want it.
“My name is Sukuna.” She takes all of him like a fucking champ. And looks good as fuck while doing it. And her voice…
“I’m yours, Sukuna.”
A tear ran down her cheek. The dragging of his dick against her walls was nothing like she’s ever felt before. It felt so good, but she was the unhappiest she’d ever been. She’s terrified and unsure if she’ll live to see tomorrow. He says he won’t kill her if she’s good, but what does good even mean to him?
She knows there’s nothing she really could have done to avoid what was currently happening to her. This man- no, Sukuna, saw her when she was first moved in and decided then and there that he wanted to rape her. No matter what he claims about her being rude and ignoring him when he helped her. And yet, she blames herself.
If she had just gotten curtains or blinds early enough, then maybe she could have avoided him. Or maybe she wouldn’t have existed to him at all. At least he wouldn’t have known what floor she was on or her room. Maybe he wouldn’t have known what building she was in.
She was so fucking stupid.
-
He repeated that all night.
‘Stupid fucking bitch,’ he would mutter under his breath. ‘Changing in front of a window, thinking no one’s gonna see you? Posing in mirrors and shit?’ He fucked her at a smooth and steady rythym, she was soaking wet and splashing all over his stubble. The sheets were damp underneath. ‘Oh yeah. You like it when I talk to you like that?’ She couldn’t stop herself from crying in humiliation.
He asked her to cry louder for ‘Toji’, which she did, and he proceeded to smack her across the face for being too loud.
He felt amazing, he pushed her legs into her chest and hammered into her. She cried into his mouth as she came all over him. Her pussy squeezing his member drive him insane and before he knew it he was cumming inside her. ‘Fuck…’ He pulled out and jerked the rest of his cum onto her pussy and thighs. He quickly grabbed the camera to show Toji, with the flash on.
‘Look at that shit,’ Sukuna made sure to examine her at every angle. He pushed his finger into her and chuckled when she moaned. His index was covered with his cum and he brought it and the camera up to her body and face.
She was completely tired out. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, she could barely even lift her eyelids. Sukuna kissed at her like a dog, then maneuvered the camera to her face. Her face was soaked with tears and spit. Her makeup had smudged everywhere and ran down her cheeks. Her hair was a mess, and she ached everywhere.
Her mouth hung open and Sukuna proceeded to jam his finger into it. He used it to pull her head back over to him and made out with her. Then, his dick started poking her ass.
She had no idea what time last night they were finally done, talk less of when she actually fell asleep. He smoked a blunt after the whole thing, sat her up so he could make her smoke too. He found her liquor cabinet. The night got worse.
She puked her guts out then fell asleep on the floor, but now she was in her bed trapped underneath him. They were both naked. She was sore as the day was long. He snores next to her. Holy fucking hell. She’s alive. Why is she alive?
She starts breathing heavily and looking around her room. She doesn’t know what to do. She didn’t think she would still be here.
In a flash, he’s up. His hand is over her mouth, and his eyes are staring into hers. He has a poker face. She shakes in his clutches and her eyes fill with tears already. “Relax. Listen to me. I know what you’re planning.”
What? What is he- “I dare you to fucking try and move away from me. I will follow you and ruin your life.”
“You said you were mine last night? Then you’re mine. You’ll do what I say, and I’ll do as I please with you. Do you understand?”
All she could do was nod. What could she say? She was planning on moving despite not having the money for it. She would have to save up. And now that he’s shown her what he’s capable of, why would she take the risk? 
Why is this happening to her? What did she do to deserve this? Want a better life for herself?
-
Sukuna was pleased with how the morning was going.
She was sitting on a stool in her dining room watching him make them breakfast with an ice pack on her face and a blanket over her body. She didn’t know what to think.
Suddenly, he perks up and turns towards her. “You got a phone, pretty?” 
She could throw up again. She swallows and points towards the hall . “My room,” her voice was hoarse and weak. “On the other side of the bed.”
He pauses and blinks at her. She gets scared again wondering what she did wrong this time. He turns the heat off. “You’re coming with me.”
Toji answers in a flash. “So, how was it?”
“You’re gonna like what you see.” He turns towards where she’s sitting on the bed. “Isn’t that right?” She’s not amused.
“Are you…are you with the bitch right now?” Toji asks.
“Yeah,” Sukuna makes his voice dreamy. “We’re going steady.”
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ending a/n: Please lmk what you think ! Thank you for reading !
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muffinlance · 1 year
Note
I saw your “Zuko brings home two dragons and becomes fire lord” story (it was awesome :3). But what if Zuko got hurt somehow and the dragons went apeshit. (Cause they’re friends right?)
(Continued from this prompt.)
Hakoda’s fleet set sail six months ago. Fire Lord Ozai was assassinated in the middle of his own war council, by his own son, two months ago. The Earth Kingdom contacted Hakoda three weeks ago, with the proposal for a joint operation.
The new Fire Lord is traveling his lands, securing allies—rooting out opposition—in the wake of his regicide. A source close to his inner council, one concerned by violence uncommon even by the standards of Fire Nation nobility, leaked his travel schedule. Much of it is by sea.
They skirt the blockade to the South, between shifting glaciers. They work their way north, flying merchant flags. They strike at night. The deck crew is easily overtaken. Understaffed, even. Suspiciously so. But if this is a trap, it’s one they’ve already sprung. And if this is the work of the same traitor that sent them the prince’s schedule and ship plans, then Hakoda won’t waste the opportunity.
“Wait,” he whispers, as Bato catches a startled servant from behind. The kid is young. In his nightclothes. Freshly scarred by his nation’s own fire, in a way that doesn’t say good things about why a young child would be coming out of the Fire Lord’s own cabin in the middle of the night. Wide gold eyes stare at Hakoda over the top of Bato’s muffling hand. 
“Son of a—” hisses Bato, as quietly as a man can, when a child has just bitten his hand. The kid keeps struggling as Bato pins him against a wall. Hakoda shoves the Fire Lord’s door open, and—
Is greeted by an empty cabin, with mussed sheets, still warm from their occupant’s departure.
Hakoda steps back into the passageway, and crouches down to the kid’s eye level. “Easy; we aren’t here to hurt you. Where’s the Fire Lord?”
The kid glowers at him. “Did General Bujing hire you?” 
Footsteps down the companionway herald a much different general’s arrival. “That would be telling,” says Fong. “Excellent work, Chief. We’ll take it from here.”
…Facts click into place, and Hakoda does not like what he’s left with.
The kid is the Fire Lord. 
The Fire Lord is barely thirteen.
And Hakoda is realizing how much of their intelligence on the monstrous patricidal new Fire Lord came through Earth Kingdom channels, and how many details Fong did not find pertinent for the Water Tribe’s easily recruited Chief to know. 
“I think we can keep one kid contained on our ship,” says Bato, who also saw the cell General Fong had specially prepared. It had seemed a reasonable cruelty, at the time.
“I’ll bite you again,” growls the Fire Nation’s tiniest despot, not helping.
There’s a tense moment as Hakoda’s men, finished securing the ship, gather around him. Just as Fong’s men are gathering around him.
“Very well,” the general concedes, with a smile Hakoda no longer finds affable.
* * *
The new Fire Lord is a man of his word: he does, indeed, bite Bato again.
* * *
It’s dawn on deck. They hurry the prince off his own ship, partially to get away from Fong, and partially to move the boy past his dead countrymen as quickly as possible. The kid’s face had been—
Hakoda had not expected to find the new Fire Lord so young. But it’s even more of a surprise, somehow, to find that the new Fire Lord cares. Not all of the kid’s crew are dead. And it wasn’t the plan, but… Hakoda orders them left that way. Sends his own healer over to save as many as possible. 
“You didn’t use your fire against us,” Hakoda comments, as they stand on his own ship. Fire Lord Zuko’s eyes are fixed on the triage happening on the next deck over. But he takes a moment to look up at Hakoda, and finds a shade even paler than white to turn. 
The healing burn over his own face was a partial answer. The look on his face gives Hakoda the rest. 
“Good,” Hakoda says, even though the kid hasn’t said anything. “Fire shouldn’t be turned on people.”
“Fire is life,” the boy says quietly, in some kind of agreement. He turns back to watching his crew, his people. Those of them that can be saved. 
Hakoda knows that feeling. Has stood that watch. 
It’s dawn, so a streak of red in the sky can go unnoticed for quite some time. Blue as well, as the morning’s colors fade. Until both are rather too close to be ignored. 
Exclamations spread among the crew. He can hear them from Fong’s ship, as well. But it’s the cheering on the Fire Lord’s ship that sends the first chill down his spine. 
The new Fire Lord is barely thirteen. And he hasn’t been scared at all during this; not for himself. 
Hakoda realizes again just how little he knows about the new Fire Lord, just in time for two dragons to land. The blue one dives into the water. It barely makes a splash, but the force of water its titanic body displaces sends his ship lurching under his feet. It surfaces again, the great coils of its body wrapped around all three ships. It’s like something from a drunken sailor’s yarn about sea serpents; the kind that shouldn’t have left any witnesses alive to tell the tale.
The red one lands almost daintily, its four feet touching down on the only ship it doesn’t care about sinking, like a polar bear-ferret perched on a too-small rock. The rails of General Fong’s ship are forced down nearly to the waterline, his crew scattering and shouting. 
Two heads the size of a god’s dreaming loom over Hakoda’s deck.
The boy next to him huffs. “I’m fine,” he says. And then he looks up at Hakoda, with that same confidence he’s had, even when he was tackled by strange men in the darkness of his own ship. 
“The war is over,” says the burned child, with the force of two ancient dragons behind him. “We should negotiate.”
…Hakoda negotiates.
(Read more prompts || Longer ATLA fics || Original works)
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theninthwonder · 6 months
Text
Hurt, Part IV
Truth and pain are tough pills to swallow...
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Featuring: Jey Uso x black!female!reader
Content Warning: Angst, a tiny smidge of smut, description and talk of abortion
Word Count: 2.4K
This is the fourth part of the series, 'Hurt.' Please click the links if you need to catch up: Part I, Part II, Part III
I hope y'all enjoy! Thank you as always for reading and supporting!
Tagging the lovlies: @siriuslyblackonback , @whatdoeseverybodywant , @southerngirl41 , @nayys-world , @reci24 , @bebesobrielo , @empressdede , @1-800anklebully , @christinabae , @gomussy , @jeyusosgirl , @m3llowww , @harmshake , @wooahmiri , @msbigredmachine , @daddydraco0 , @alichesmi , @alyyaanna
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You found yourself on a video visit with your physician the following morning. Given your reaction to the confirmation of pregnancy, Dr. Everett didn’t seem surprised to see your face so soon. She had directed her nurse to give you a call last night to check on you, which came after Jey moseyed himself on off of your porch. You requested this appointment, needing to know more about all of your options.
“And the pill can work at 3 months? I don’t have to come in for an in clinic procedure?”
“Yes, the pill is still effective for women at the 12 week mark. You’ll be given two. The first pill stops the pregnancy from progressing and the second pill will terminate and empty the uterus.”
“What’s going to happen after that? Is the baby going to just… slide out of me?” You asked, fear coating your words. The image in your head had you a little freaked out.
“You’ll begin to cramp and bleed anywhere from one to four hours after taking the pills. It can feel more severe than your typical menstrual symptoms. You’ll expel pregnancy tissue during this time. Now, you are 12 weeks along Y/N, so you’ll notice large clumps of tissue. You’ll want to use a pad, a menstrual cup, or even a depend during this process. Whichever is more comfortable for you.”
“How long will I bleed?”
“You could bleed up to six hours. You’ll notice the cramping for a couple of days. You might also become sick with nausea. If you begin the pills today, we can set an appointment for a week’s time to have another ultrasound and lab tests run to ensure the pregnancy is terminated.”
You fidgeted with your fingers. “Okay. What if I… what if I don’t really know what to do?”
“Then I would advise you to think of every possible aspect of your choice. Once you take the pill, you can’t undo your action. If you do decide abortion isn’t for you but you still don’t wish to be a mother, you can always consider adoption. But only you can make the decision, Y/N. Not your healthcare provider, not your significant other, not your parents. You.”
“I understand, Dr. Everett.”
She adjusted her thick rimmed glasses. “With that being said, my office is here for you regardless of any choice you make and my personal line is open always for you. Do you have any other questions for me now?”
“I… um… I’d also like to know how the adoption process works.”
“Absolutely. We’ll take care of you throughout your pregnancy. We’ll also work on an adoption plan together with an agency I’ve worked with for over twenty years. You can be as involved as you’d like, even down to selecting who you’d feel is the right family for the child. You can also decide whether it would be an open, semi-open or closed adoption. Those decisions can be made down the road. Either way, the agency and our office will provide you the support you need as we plan it out together.”
You gave her a nod. “Okay, that doesn’t sound too bad.”
“You would just have to be okay with carrying the child to term with the intent to give them away. And, not to sway you either way, but you might find that harder to do. I’ve had patients who suffered from guilt and remorse after giving the child they’ve carried away. I’ve also had patients who suffered after making the choice to abort. That’s why I stress you to really consider every aspect of whichever choice you’re going to make.”
As the visit came to an end, she supplied the address to the clinic you could pick up the medication. You plugged it into your GPS, deciding it would be best to go and get it sooner than later.
You thought a bit more on the drive. Thanks to Dr. Everett, you already had a good idea of what the next few days would entail. Physical pain and discomfort. You could handle that—that’s why ibuprofen and herbal tea existed. What you weren’t too sure about were the mental and emotional repercussions of swallowing the pill. You were already scared of what you might see after you do it; the image alone was jarring. You couldn’t surmise how long it would take you to come to terms with everything. Two weeks? Four months? One year? Then again, maybe you’d actually be relieved of the choice and you’d move on with your life relatively quick.
One more question popped into your mind, where it lingered for longer than you expected.
…What if you kept it?
You pulled into the plaza where the clinic was. Just as Dr. Everett said, the building itself was nondescript for patient safety. But you knew you had the right one, because she’d also told you that a Lifetime Fitness and a Starbucks were its neighboring businesses. You exited your car, sliding your purse strap over your shoulder. When you walked inside the office, you followed signage to the reception desk. A young receptionist greeted you with kindness.
“Hi. I’m here to pick up, uh, a prescription from my doctor.”
You handed her your identification, and within minutes, she handed it back to you along with a small white bag. She pointed out the instructions, circled a couple of numbers to call if you had any questions or suffered any severe affects, and then sent you on your way.
You’d stuffed the bag into your purse, right against the ultrasound photos from yesterday. You couldn’t believe how simple all of it had been, but you were definitely grateful. Although, that feeling wouldn’t last too long.
The moment you exited the clinic and turned to the left to get back to your car, another person collided right into you. You almost bust your ass, but an arm shot out and caught you in record time. You failed to notice the patterned designs tattooed on the arm.
“Oh, shit! I’m so sor—”
Your apology died on your tongue as you’d looked up and discovered Jey. Fuck. He stared back at you in equal disbelief. He’d dropped his gym bag in effort to keep you from meeting the ground; his hands were on your waist for support.
“Hey, you alright?” he asked.
“I’m good.” You straightened yourself, pushing his hands from your body. He released you at once, standing back out of your personal space. A flicker of disappointment flashed over his face.
“I ain’t expect to run into you so soon.”
You sighed. “Me neither. I forgot you worked out over here.”
“I’m glad you forgot.”
You met his gaze, causing your heart to react in a way you wished it wouldn’t. This was dangerous. His gentle tone, those soft brown eyes. All of him threatened to be your undoing. And you feared you had less control of your emotions this morning in comparison to yesterday.
“Y/N, you was on my mind all night. I mean, you always are, I think ‘bout you all the time. But, last night I just couldn’t get you off my mind. After seein’ you… and seein’ you right now… it’s makin’ me realize how bad I really fucked up. I’m lookin’ at you, Y/N, and I…”
Jey paused. He braved a step closer; his eyes had yet to leave yours, and you saw in his stare how emotional he was.
“…I still see my future with you, Y/N.”
You closed your eyes to keep the tears from escaping. You weren’t sure if you could have this type of conversation right now. So, you made a move to step to the right, away from him. Jey’s hands caught yours, stopping you.
“Wait. Please. Just gimme a minute,” he begged. When your eyes opened, you saw how torn he was. You inhaled a breath, steadying yourself. You pulled at your hands in his grip.
“No. Just stop, Jey. I don’t wanna do this with you.”
“I still meant everything I ever told you. I still feel everything we shared. And I still love you, Y/N,” Jey insisted, emotion wrecking his voice.
“If that was true, you wouldn’t have cheated. If you loved me that much, you wouldn’t have ever hurt me the way you did. If you cared about me, you wouldn’t have looked me in the eye and lied. So, please, just stop all of this.”
“You think I don’t care about you? Straight up, Y/N?” he asked, hurt. A few of your own tears fell, in spite of your best efforts. Down your cheeks they rolled, landing on your full lips where you flicked them away with your tongue in haste.
“I know you don’t. What you did almost destroyed me. You knew I was hurt by someone before you, and you promised to never do that to me. I gave you my trust, my body, and my heart—and you tossed all of it away for some other bitch. That hurts me every single day, Jey. No man that truly loves a woman would do what you did.”
His voice rose, “I do love you. You think I woulda popped up at your house if I didn’t? You think I’d be standin’ right here right now, lookin’ and feelin’ like a complete asshole with my pride swallowed, if I didn’t? Hell nah!”
“That’s all bullshit. Fuck if I care your pride is hurt? That’s all this really is, ‘cause I left your ass and haven’t looked back,” you shot back. His eyes developed some fire in them, impassioned by the argument you two were having right there in front of Starbucks. Other people were trying to get in and out for their high-priced caffeine fix, while you and your ex stood there, having it out with absolutely no care.
He slapped his hand in his palm. “I. Fuckin’. Love. You! I made a fuckin’ mistake, Y/N, and I pay for that shit every day!”
“You ain’t make a mistake. The only one who made a mistake was me when I allowed you in my heart. Cheating and breaking my heart were choices. You made a choice… and now I have to make mine.”
“Y/N, wait—“
You made the move to walk around him this time, gritting your teeth when he tried to stop you again. He grabbed your arm and swung you around, causing your purse strap to slip and fall. It hit the ground; the purse mouth open because you had never zipped it, and the contents fell out. Your heart dropped as not only the medication bag but the black and white ultrasound pictures scattered onto the ground.
Jey looked down at the mess… and you saw the exact moment his eyes zeroed in on your photos. You were frozen as he bent down to pick them up. His focus remained on the ultrasound for what felt like hours, but in actuality, Jey had only been silent for ten seconds before he finally looked at you. Shock took the place of his frustration; his eyes only held wonder and… hope.
“…You pregnant?”
You nodded, not use in denying what he now knew. You bent over to retrieve the medication off the ground and reached for your photos. Jey handed them back to you, his eyes never leaving your face. You shifted awkwardly from his stare; the longer he didn’t speak, the unease grew within you. He seemed to be putting two and two together right then and there.
“How long you knew?”
“…For a few days. These pictures are from yesterday.”
Jey’s jaw muscle clenched. “You wasn’t gon’ say nothing, was you? You wasn’t gon’ tell me.”
“I just found out, Jey. I’ve been in shock. I don’t… I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” you admitted, hating how shaky your voice became.
“What are you sayin’, Y/N? From day one, you told me you love kids and wanted some of your own. You told me, a few months ago, you could see us havin’ babies.”
You blinked back tears. The memory gripped you so hard you couldn’t shake it. You remembered that conversation; it had come after a night full of deep, sensual sex. He had pulled out the first couple of times, but on round 3, you were riding him straight to another orgasm and when your walls squeezed around his throbbing piece, he failed to warn you. He emptied steady spurts of cum up inside of you, and you ground those hips slowly up and down on his dick, y’all combined juices making so much noise and mess. You panted out cuss words as you had told him you forgot to refill your birth control on schedule. You joked he’d better not run away if you popped up pregnant after that.
‘Y/N, I’m never leavin’ you. And if you become pregnant, I’d be the happiest man in the world.’
Fuck. That had to have been the night that conceived this moment.
“That was before you broke my heart.”
His expression broke, looking horrified. “So, what, you gon’ kill this baby ‘cause of our problems? Is that what you tellin’ me, Y/N?”
“I’m not tellin’ you anything!” You exclaimed. You threw up your hands, frustrated tears returning as you continued, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do! I’m scared, Jey! I never expected to be in this position before. I’ve dreamed of being a mom, but not like this. I thought you and me would… fuck, I don’t know… I just thought we’d be in love if it happened. I imagined maybe we’d get married, build a house together, and then start our family. I never ever thought if I got pregnant by you, I’d be thinking of killing it or giving it up!”
He was speechless, but his own pain rolled down his face. He didn’t even attempt to conceal his anguish. You didn’t bother to wipe your own tears away, because all they’d do is continue to come. Jey took one step toward you, then paused. You didn’t move backward, which only prompted him to take one more. You were shocked to feel his thumb move across your cheeks, erasing your tears with a gentle touch.
“Y/N,” his voice soft, tear filled. “I know I got no right to ask. I got no right to tell you what to do. All I’ma ask is… don’t make yo’ choice ‘cause of your feelings against me. Don’t do anything to this baby ‘cause you hate me. Please.”
A tear fell out of your eye as his words infiltrated into your heart. Jey let his thumb caress your chin before he let you go. The two of you stared at each other as he retreated, bending to retrieve his duffle bag. You found yourself without words this time, surprised that Jey was backing off first. But, you took that as your cue to leave, too. You were just about to turn and head back to the car, when his voice called out.
“Aye, Y/N…?”
You paused, facing him again. Damn him. You didn’t hate Jey, and that was the whole problem right there.
“I meant everything I said. I’ma be here for you… no matter what.”
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dawnisdreamlanding · 4 months
Text
CHAPTER 3
Ghost x Reader x Konig
Neighbor!au and Roommate!au
About me | Masterlist |
Author's note: Hey hey hey! It's been a while hahahs I actually have chapter 4 and chapter 5 planned out but i havent got the energy to write them :') All i can say is that everything in this story has been going too well right now... >:)
(Also if you have any fanfic ideas/ asks feel free to send an ask or dm me :D)
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You’re waiting once again for Simon to pick you up from work. It’s now become an almost daily thing for a month now, the two of you. You’d finish work, Simon would show up in his pickup truck and occasionally the two of you would eat dinner together.
Okay, you do partially feel as if you’re cheating on Konig in some way by having dinner with your neighbor (Konig said he had a work emergency and he was going to be gone for a month or two), but your roommate wasn’t here to keep you company anymore and you weren’t willing to eat dinner alone after being so accustomed to the company you had.
Today, the atmosphere in the car seems a little different than the rest. Just a little, though. You decide not to comment on it and buckle your seatbelt before he starts driving. “How was work?” Simon would ask the usual question. “Fine,” you would reply tiredly with a sigh. The two of you would fall into a domestic routine in such a short time, yet neither of you ever really questioned it.
The patter of rain provided a relaxing white noise as the two of you sit in comfortable silence, waiting for the traffic light to turn green. The streetlamps glisten and you turn to see Simon in his balaclava that he wears only when going on missions.
“I’m going to be deployed. Tonight.” He finally breaks it to you. “Oh.” You reply, but you can’t be sure if it sounded sad or understanding. Maybe both. “Do you know when you’re coming back?” He shrugs, eyes still fixated on the road. “I’m thinkin’ 2 months at least.”
There’s another silence that follows, but this time around it’s filled with a lot of unsaid words waiting to be spoken into existence. Simon turns to look at you. God, he wishes he didn’t because the red from the traffic light paints your features in the best way, and he doesn’t think he could forget this moment anytime soon. “You’ll be fine without me yeah?” Simon finally asks. You feel like there’s a secret message lying hidden somewhere in the question by the way he looks at you, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
---
You spend your days without Simon and Konig counting. Counting how many days it’s been since they’ve been gone, and the times you accidentally cook food for two. Today marks the 2 month mark, and to be honest, you still haven’t gotten used to your apartment engulfed in darkness when you get back from work. You sigh.
---
Simon spends his days counting unconsciously. He takes another long drag from his cigarette and watches the smoke slowly disappear into the night sky outside of a bar the team decided to celebrate their victory at. It’s a little chilly. Winter is approaching, and he hopes you’re warm and tucked into your apartment right about now. Soap stands beside him, accompanying him. “You goin’ home for Christmas, L.T?” he says. Soap expects Ghost to say no, or to say something along the lines of spending the holiday alone.
Ghost gazes at the stars which is something he doesn’t really do since he was a kid and god, he swears he still sees your face as the stars twinkle. He hums. “Got a Christmas gift for someone. Gotta give it to ‘em somehow.” Soap’s taken aback at his answer but chooses not to pry too much into his private life. Not this time at least. Suddenly the bar cheers with happiness and the clinking of beer bottles. “Happy for ya, L.T.” Soap says as a small knowing smile spreads on his lips.
---
Ghost spends the time taken for the trip back to his civilian life decompressing and when he reaches home, he wants nothing more than the dinners the two of you had before he left for the mission. But he decides the moment his duffel bag hits the floor, that he really, really needs to sleep first. That doesn’t stop him from thinking about you though, cause he dreams of the moment when he picked you up from work in his pickup truck.
You’re ecstatic when Simon tells you he’s back. You prepare dinner, finally making food for two (or three, with how much this guy eats). And you’re basically skipping when Simon knocks on your door.
Dinner with Simon is calm yet filled with excitement and happiness. You both catch up on each other’s lives, and you tell him about everything he’s missed out on since he left. You tell him about the stray orange cat that found its way into your apartment once (you still have no clue how) and has now become a visitor occasionally — you leave out the part where you subconsciously named it after him.
You’re washing the dishes and Simon’s keeping the leftovers for your lunch tomorrow when the topic of long distance relationships get brought up. “I mean, it must be hard to maintain relationships, right? Especially since you don’t get to see each other for ages.” Ghost hums in agreement, a sign that you’ve learnt to understand that he’s listening to you intently. “I can’t imagine working in the military is any easier. Hell, I felt a little sad when you left too, I can’t imagine what your girlfriend would be feeling.”
“Don’t have one.” He says. And you smile a little. “Yeah, but imagine if you did. It’ll be like one of those old war movies.” You giggle at the thought and Simon joins you in washing the dishes. “Oh, my darling,” you say in an exaggerated voice of a lover. “I don’t think I could love you anymore. The pain is too much to bear!”
Your theatrics tugs the corner of Simon’s lips upwards and he looks at you softly, arching his brow. “Y’ love me?” his voice rumbles, and it sounds something akin to the taste of vanilla ice cream with caramel drizzled on top which is weird, because you’ve never really liked the taste of caramel. Well, not until now.
There’s a certain softness in this moment, you tell yourself. There’s this feeling that you don’t think you could forget this look on his face. You blink and he’s taken the soapy cutlery from your hand and starts to wash the soap off them. “I forget how much I miss my soft bed when I come back. And being able to sleep in a little longer.” He sighs and it’s your turn to hum along. “And I missed your cooking.” He says a little softer this time, eyes focusing on the bubbles as they get washed away from the water. I missed this, you think.
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Taglist: @gojo-mochi
120 notes · View notes
constawrites · 1 month
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Drabble for this happy and lovely month¡! ღ
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╔ Nanami x Wife reader, enjoy :3
Nanami and Wife! Reader who are dating since their 20’s, finally getting married and starting their own little family on a department.
Nanami and Wife! Reader who after years of marriage decide they want to have children, finally, starting to decorate the empty room on their small home with plushies, a crib, painting the walls on a pastel yellow color with small flowers painted by you with all your hopes and talent.
“Nanami! Look at this baby shirt! It’s so cute! Can we buy it?”
“Love, you know i love you with all of my heart but we’ve already bought clothes for the next 5 months, minimum.”
Nanami and Wife! Reader who start trying to have their so wanted kid. Making love with soft praises and panted wishes of starting a family, having a precious aftercare full of happiness and plans for the future, even imagining how their kid would be playing with all the plushies you insisted Nanami to buy.
Wife! Reader who each time she sees the negative test on her hand starts getting a bit worried, loosing a bit of hopes.
Husband! Nanami who always makes sure you never loose hopes, kissing your neck softly with sweet nothings, his arms wrapping around your waist as he makes you forget about another failed try and assures it’s just a time thing.
Nanami and Wife! Reader who after a few months of no results start getting a bit worried and prefer to go to the doctor, looking for answers or treatments.
Nanami and Wife! reader who’s world crumbles in pieces after hearing you’re infertile. Standing there in shock, not knowing how to react as small tears threaten to spill from your eyes.
Nanami and Wife! Reader who are completely silent all the way back home. You’re looking through your window with tired, unfocused eyes, almost loosing any spark they had on the start while Nanami’s focused on the road, not knowing what to say without his voice coming out shaky or tears rolling down his cheeks.
Nanami and Wife! Reader, standing for a moment in front of the door frame of the future baby’s room, looking at how all their wishes and hopes escaped through your fingers, ending up for closing the door, like trying to forget whatever there is behind, trying to forcefully close any open window of memories of what you wanted the most but wasn’t and will never be meant to be.
Nanami and Wife! Reader who after years they’ve finally forgot about the hurting memory that tormented them for so long, giving the baby’s bed and toys to family and friends and replacing every decoration with just a normal guest’s room. But still, if you look on the deepest parts of an old drawer in your room, you can still find a small plushie, a small remembering piece of what you lost without even having it on the first place.
Nanami and Wife! Reader who should’ve never had that much hope in a impossible wish.
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A/N: Well, it wasn’t so happy ig. Also, I’m doing this at 00:18 with Ado songs on my headphones so don’t blame me for this, blame Ado’s perfect cover.
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fayes-fics · 2 years
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Lessons Taught
Lessons Series Masterpost PREV | NEXT
Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome)
Summary: Anthony and Benedict team up to teach some lessons
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Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, threesome, d/s relationships, nipple and clitoral restraint, spanking, impact play, face-sitting, overstimulation, light bondage, vaginal sex, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism, masturbation, mention of public sex, no incest.
Word Count: 6.7 k (whoops)
Authors Note: My darling @iboopedyournose has waited patiently for MONTHS while I wrangled this, the third instalment of Lessons. I’m sorry it’s taken so long. I really don’t like it, I think because I have stared at it for too long, but I hope you do <3 . Thanks as ever to my patient and lovely beta @makaylan :) Also please note, Regency era hairpins are not like Bobby pins, just an fyi for this fic lol.
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“Are you seeing this, brother?” Anthony asks discreetly, tipping his head over his shoulder in your direction.
Benedict hums in the affirmative.
“Well, what are you going to do about it?” Anthony challenges.
“Me?” Benedict frowns in surprise, “I thought she was your girl?
“She is. But you said you wanted to be more involved in teaching?”
“Well, yes…”
“Then I think you better be the one to tell her this sort of thing isn’t acceptable to us,” Anthony says pointedly, raising an eyebrow.
Benedict nods, comprehending, “Right, you are, brother.”
“And Benedict…”
“Yes”
“Happy birthday” 
___
All you can think to yourself is this plan had better work. 
It’s been a month since your last encounter with both Bridgerton brothers, and, well, to say you are looking for an encore is an understatement. They’ve both been out here in their country retreat while you’ve been stuck in London. Now you’re here at the fabulous Aubrey Hall for the annual Hearts & Flowers ball, and you’ve come prepared. Or, more precisely, underprepared—-in that, you wear no underwear, chemise or stockings—just your thin dress and stays. An extra frisson of excitement for you and hopefully them too, if they’re amenable.
You're not sure the other part of your plan is working. You’re trying to get their attention. So you’re being risqué with your behaviour. Flirty, laughing slightly too loud at the jokes of men you couldn't care less for, filling your dance card and drinking perhaps a touch too much champagne. Hoping to make them just a little jealous and realise what they are missing out on. Hoping maybe they’ll teach you a lesson not to do this sort of thing in future. God, you really hope they do that. Your mind reels with possibilities of just how you would like them to tell you off and discipline you for such behaviour. You crave it.
However, they seem to have left the room. Disappointed, you take your leave from the main ballroom, heading to reapply your rouge when a hand suddenly grabs your arm and drags you into a hidden alcove in the hallway. Your back is pulled tight against a warm solid mass. 
“What do you think you are playing at?” A familiar voice snarls in your ear from behind.
Benedict.
Oh yes, please.
“I’m not doing anything… Sir,” you answer, pouting to stop the huge grin you feel tugging at your lips.
“It doesn’t look like nothing to me; it looks a lot like you are behaving like a wanton little hussy. Is that what you are?” His voice is a sharp hiss.
“No, sir,” you respond, pressing back against him, already feeling breathy from this encounter.
“Are you sure?” He questions, “if I find your nipples are peaked, I know you’re lying to me,” he argues, sliding a hand into your dress.
Of course, they are—they pebbled the instant he touched you.
“Well, what do you know,” he purrs dangerously as he lightly runs a finger over it, “a liar and a hussy.”
You whimper at his expert touch but make a performance of resisting his hold a little bit, squirming, playing up as if this isn’t exactly where you want to be right now. Your thighs sliding easily against each other, already slick.
“Do you know what happens to little hussies who lie to us?” He questions, banding an arm around your waist to quell your wriggling. Oh, the word us is music to your ears. 
“No, sir.”
“They get taught a lesson,” he slides his hand out of your dress, moving to hold your wrists against your side.
“I don’t need to be taught anything,” you challenge over your shoulder with a brattish tone.
“Like hell you don’t,” another voice cuts in, rounding the corner to stand in front of you. 
Anthony.
Oh, hell yes.
“But I’m a good girl, my lord,” you reply, looking at the new arrival with a challenging smirk.
He tilts his head and gives you a disbelieving look. “You are being the exact opposite tonight. Flirting, dancing with every man in that room like a hussy when you know full well who you belong to,” he asserts, grabbing your jaw and crowding into you so you are pinned firmly between their bodies. You feel the heat of Benedict’s cock nestling between your bum cheeks.
“Good girls get to go back to the party; bad girls get taken elsewhere to learn how to behave.” He continues pressing his pelvis against your lower belly, so you feel the outline of his cock now too. “So, which are you?” His thumb hooks into the corner of your lips and pull down, opening your mouth slightly.
You stay silent and peek out your tongue to lick across the top of his thumb.
“Silence suggests the latter,” Benedict opines from behind you, still holding your wrists firmly locked against your sides.
“Hmmm, I tend to concur,” Anthony hums, watching your tongue lathe against his thumb. “She looks like she needs to be taught a lesson.”
“I know just the perfect place,” Benedict offers.
“Lead on, brother,” Anthony responds.
The moment you are out in public view, their hold changes. It’s a respectful loose arm link from both as if they are helping you to navigate the party. Your gloved hands rest daintily in the crook of their elbows as they guide you up a staircase and along a long corridor. 
As the sound of the party fades further away with each step, their hold changes to a firmer grasp, and suddenly you are spun around and sandwiched between them, Benedict in front of you, walking you backwards against Anthony, bumping into a door.
“Hello, my girl, did you miss us?” Anthony purrs into your ear.
“So much,” you whisper back.
“We missed you too,” Benedict replies, reaching past you both to open the door.
All three of you almost tumble through the doorway, and Anthony kicks it shut as they both back you against the wall, Anthony on your right, Benedict on your left. From a glance, you appear to be some kind of art studio.
“It’s Benedict’s birthday tomorrow,” Anthony murmurs, “and getting to fuck you is my present to him. What colour do you think of that, my girl?”
“Green,” you answer, as they each remove a glove from your arm.
“Do you want me to fuck you too?” Anthony asks as Benedict busies himself kissing down your neck. 
“Yes, please, my lord” you feel Anthony’s hand snake around your back and pull open the buttons on your dress as you kick off your slipper shoes.
You can’t wait to have both of them. 
“Hmmm, thought so, you greedy little thing,” Anthony clucks as you close your eyes to the pleasure of Benedict’s lips.
Anthony pulls your gown off one shoulder and attacks the skin there; Benedict does the same on the other side. These brothers are team-working now—they obviously have something planned together. 
With a tug of both their hands, your dress falls. And they both reel back in surprise.
You are entirely naked save for the smallest stays you could find. They don’t even cover your nipples; they just provide the uplift you need for the neckline of your dress. You breathe heavily as they stare at you, eyes so hungry.
“How dare you attend a ball in my house, so scantily clad,” Anthony growls. 
“How dare you flirt with other men with your cunt exposed,” Benedict adds. “You need to be taught a lesson about how to dress as well as behave.”
“Go right ahead, brother,” Anthony cedes, enthralled he gets to watch you be disciplined.
Benedict advances on you. “A good girl keeps her nipples inside her underwear,” he opines, “otherwise look what could happen.” He suddenly pinches both nipples and pulls them upright roughly, so you are forced onto your tiptoes. “Any stranger could grab them and touch you just like this.”
Gasping at the sensation, you look over at Anthony, now casually leaning against a column, arms crossed, watching you being taught your lesson. “You won’t find any sympathy here, girl. He’s right.”
“Sorry, sir,” you say through clenched teeth, looking back at Benedict, “I won’t let it happen again, sir.”
“See that you don’t,” he demands, releasing his hold so you sag back against the wall. Your nipples ache from his rough treatment as he walks away and picks up a paintbrush from a nearby table.
“A good girl wears a chemise, so all of her skin is not exposed,” he tutors, as you feel the bristles of the paintbrush feather against your ribcage, swirling patterns over your ribs and belly, your nerve endings fluttering and goosebumps erupting in its wake. A laugh bubbles up in your throat. “Stay silent while my brush is on you. If you make a sound, there will be consequences,” he warns.
The brush runs teasingly up your side, and you writhe and bite your lip, fighting the urge to giggle—it’s where you are most ticklish. You manage to hold it together until he does the same on the other side, snagging against a weak spot, and you can’t stop the little burst of laughter. You instantly tuck your lips under your teeth and bite down, knowing you have broken his rule.
“Can’t even obey a simple instruction, can you?” he sighs, his eyes glittering with a heated menace. “I forbade you from making a sound, yet here we are.”
“I’m very sorry, sir,” you rush out. “It tickles.”
“Hmmm,” he runs an appeasing eye over your hair, swept into an updo. “What do we have here?” his voice silken as he runs a hand up the nape of your neck and pulls out a hairpin, then another two.
“Should I take my hair down, sir?” You query, confused by his apparent change of direction, one eye on the paintbrush now snagged between his knuckles.
“No need,” he replies. “I have what I need right here.” 
You have no warning as he drops his head and sucks on your left nipple, pulling it between his teeth. You cry out at the sudden, fierce sensation. Before you have your bearings, he backs off, and with a dangerous smirk, he slides one of your hairpins down over the damp pebbled peak he just created. It pinches and burns, the ache a direct line down to your clit. You hiss at the feeling as he does the same to your right nipple, diving in with teeth and suction, trapping it between the metal prongs. 
“Hmm, maybe this will teach you…,” he flicks at one prong, “to follow…”, then the other, “my orders….”
With each flick, you gasp, the snag against your skin just the right side of painful. 
“And maybe now you’ll remember to wear your chemise,” he surmises, admiring his handiwork.
“Yes, sir, I will,” you demure, adjusting to this new continual sting.
“Don’t her nipples look so beautiful like this, brother?” Benedict opines over his shoulder, “I’ve half a mind to leave them like this all night.”
“Oh, you definitely should,” Anthony agrees from a few paces away.
Then the paintbrush is back on your skin. Lower this time, sinking beneath your belly button. You know better than to make a sound now, biting your lips and fighting the tremble from the ticklish sensation, heightened all the more by your aching nipples.
“A good girl wears undergarments in public,” he lectures, the brush now smearing down the furrow where your leg meets your body. Your breathing speeds up as he flicks the lightest of touches against your clit hood with the bristles. It’s not enough and too much at once. “Otherwise, any man could touch you here,” the brush teasing as he strokes agonisingly light over your clit.
Cresting a moan, you arch your back, desperate for friction. 
“Please, sir,” you breathe, trying to appeal to his good nature, to touch you properly and give you what you crave. 
You look over at Anthony, who is watching you with hooded eyes, palming his obvious erection in his trousers. The fact that he is so turned on watching you get disciplined makes you mewl, your trapped nipples burn, and your cunt clenches around nothing.
Benedict drops to his knees before you hook your left leg over his shoulder and then buries his face between your legs, sucking your clit so firmly that you see stars.
“Oh god, yes, sir,” you call out, “that feels so good. Thank you, thank you.”
You feel him laugh almost menacingly against your heated flesh as he teases your bud outwards with his pursed lips. Then you sense it, a squeezing pressure as he slips the final hairpin he stole right over your distended clit—it throbs instantly.
“Oh, that’s just perfect,” he preens, “look at your poor little pearl all swollen and trapped. Gosh, if we so much as….” he spears the lightest of touches with the tip of his tongue and makes you squeal. ”Maybe now you’ll remember to wear undergarments in public,“ he counsels, dropping your leg to the floor and standing back up, nodding to Anthony.
“Yes, sir,” you stutter, fighting the strong urge to whine as your clit starts to pulse with every heartbeat.
Anthony steps forward. “Well, now you have learned how you should dress; perhaps now you need to learn how to behave.” 
His arms wrap around your waist, and he walks you into the room. With every step, the pin over your clit snags against your flesh, and you moan at the sensation.
“Oh, my poor girl, all pinned and aching,” he whispers in your ear as you reach an oversized velvet chaise longue, obviously placed in the centre of the room for live art modelling. He walks you around to the tall end. “Hold on here,” he instructs, encouraging your feet apart. 
You obey, fingers sinking into the plush velvet at hip height as he stands behind you, smearing a hand roughly down the length of your back until it rests warm and foreboding on your bum cheek. 
“What do you think you were doing out there tonight? With all those men, hmm?” His voice is pitched low and with a hint of menace.
“Nothing, my lord,” you answer, trying your best to hide your smirk.
“She is lying to you, brother,” Benedict warns from a few feet away, his turn to watch now, “the little hussy has a smile on her face.”
“Is that right?” Anthony clicks his tongue disapprovingly, grabbing your jaw and moving your head to the side a little. “Then maybe this little hussy needs to learn how to behave.” 
Benedict barks a laugh and rolls up his sleeves at that.
“Does a proper lady flirt with strange men?” Anthony interrogates, rubbing his hand over the swell of your bottom.
“No, my lord,” you respond, breathless with anticipation.
“Hmm, correct. And does a proper lady fill her dance card with all sorts of cads and bounders without a care for her reputation?” his fingers kneading the flesh of your bum.
“No, my lord.”
“Then you are not a proper lady, and you need to be taught to be one,” he snarls. That’s all the warning you get before his hand lifts and then descends roughly onto your cheek.
“Owww,” you wail. That was a harsh first blow; your trapped nipples and clit thrum in time with the spank of his hand.
“No! You don’t say oww, you thank me for teaching you a lesson in appropriate conduct,” he lectures. When you don’t respond, he crowds against you and grabs around your throat, “I'm waiting….”
“Thank you, my lord,” you grit out.
He pulls your head back a little further, and his lips land on yours. His kiss is possessive and bruising, as if he is branding you as his. Plundering your mouth, the hand curling strong around your throat, you feel the vibration of your groan against his palm. 
As he pulls away and you breathe heavily, he spanks the same spot again, his grip lingering and grabbing your flesh. “I need to hear it again, my girl.”
“Thank you, my lord,” you gasp; the hand at your throat is not restricting your breath but a constant pressure that reminds you who is in charge.
He spanks your other cheek open-handed, his fingers splaying out wide. “Again”, he orders.
“Thank you, my lord.” It's a breathy plea against his lips as he holds your head back, staring into your eyes.
He releases his hold from around your throat and then uses both hands to spank your cheeks, the sound ringing out around the room with your panting. The burn makes you writhe. The ache throbbing in your nipples and clit.
“Do you think you’ll remember your lesson?” Anthony demands, his breath hot on your cheek.
“Yes, my lord,” you stutter.
“Hmm, it's funny, but I don't believe you. I don’t know that my hands are enough for this lesson,” Anthony wonders aloud. “I think we may need something stronger; what say you brother?”
“I think you might be right; you once said she has never learned a thing from all the spankings she’s had. I kept a leather strap from a shipment of art supplies,” Benedict voices, “I think that might make a useful tool.”
“Excellent choice, brother,” you hear Anthony agree. 
You crane your neck to try and see what they are talking about, nerves flaring in your body at the thought of being struck with something. Benedict pulls you back against him with a strong arm around your waist. You feel his cock branding against your lower back, knowing he will be fucking you later.
“You see this, my girl,” he runs a tan leather strap between your breasts, ”what colour for this?”
“Yellow,” you waver, being honest.
Instantly his hold softens. “Okay, darling girl, don’t be nervous. I’ll go gentle, I promise,” he whispers and kisses your cheek, “you’ll tell me if you want me to stop, won’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” you sigh.
“You are such a good brave girl for us,” he compliments, “we want you to feel pleasure from this.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Are you okay to continue?” he checks.
“Yes, sir,” you nod, and he pulls away again.
He wraps the leather strap around his hand and confers with Anthony quietly. You smile softly, knowing they are planning to ensure your comfort and well-being. Anthony moves to lay on the chaise, and Benedict takes your hand and guides you lightly to straddle him.
“We think this could be a good oral lesson for our naughty little pupil,” Benedict tutors softly, “so why don't you take a seat here, right on his face?”
You gasp and flood down your thighs, the idea of being eaten out while you are disciplined so utterly appealing. You feel Anthony's breath warm on your inner thighs as you settle over him, Benedict guiding your hands to grasp the top of the chaise above Anthony's head. 
“Come here,” Anthony's honeyed voice drawls from between your thighs as he kisses the sensitive skin where your leg meets your body, “are you ready to try this, my brave girl?”
“Yes, my lord,” you assure, nerves melting a notch with his sweet attentions, pulsing with anticipation that he will remove the hairpin and give you a reprieve.
“Oh darling, no,” he teases, reading your mind, “this stays in place.” He tugs on the metal, and you cry out. “For now, at least, it's only coming off when we fuck you.”
With that, he flattens his tongue, lapping against your distended swollen clit, the heat and delicate tease of it hurtling you so close to orgasm it's startling, the sensation so magnified.
“My lord,” you gasp, “I'm going to come already.”
“So soon, my girl,” he huffs, “oh darling, I'm not going to stop just because you come. I'm going to keep going until you cry pretty tears all down your lovely face,” his voice a dangerous promise.
He licks again, allowing the end of his tongue to morph into a point that lingers and flicks against you. You whine, thighs already shaking as the approaching orgasm flickers at the corners of your mind.
Just as your focus is wholly on Anthony and his tongue taking you into oblivion, there's a snap of leather against your butt cheek. You squeal in surprise, having almost forgotten Benedict's plan. It drives you over the precipice, and you scream, convulsing hard against the hairpin, panting breaths. Your vision whiting out as you collapse forward over the end of the chaise. 
“Oh, that's it,” Benedict gruffs, “scream for me,” but it sounds so distant behind the rush of blood in your ears.
Before you’ve had a chance to recover, there’s another jolt of leather. Slightly stronger than the last aimed directly over where Anthony's hand had spanked you earlier. Your hips stutter, and you collapse onto Anthony's face, his tongue questing inside your channel. It's too much sensation.
“Oh fuck,” you exclaim loudly, overstimulated, as once again you feel a sting on your cheeks.
“She is loving this brother,” Benedict glowers, watching your mouth fall open, and your eyes roll.
“More, sir,” you implore; you don't recognise your own slurred voice. 
“You want me to flog you again, my girl?” Benedict's voice is gravelly and laboured.
“Yes, please, sir, give me more,” drunk on the utter tide of sensations, Anthony's tongue swirling inside you, spiralling you again, your clit and nipples throbbing in their bindings, your bum glowing.
Benedict growls, and the next blow feels wonderful; you scream thank yous as you move on instinct, grinding down onto Anthony, his tongue a sinful swirl of wonder, tears prickling your eyes as the pleasure and pain meld into one intoxicating pulse over your body.
You are floating now, leaking into Anthony's mouth as he mumbles praises deep into your cunt, Benedict panting as he reigns in the desire to flog you senseless, his arm shaking from the restraint and the unbridled lust of watching your skin bloom and you experience one long extended orgasm, fracturing while overwrought - a creature of lust and submission. 
“She looks fucking beautiful, brother,” Benedict gasps, dropping the strap, pulling your hair until your head tilts back and smashing his lips onto yours. His kiss is desperate and plundering; his hand descends to flick his thumbnail against your nipple. To have both their tongues inside you at either end pushes you over the edge even more, screaming into his mouth and shaking and crying.
Benedict sweeps you off Anthony and into his arms, still kissing you as you curl up into his hold, not fighting the blissful state you are slipping into.
You don't recall the next few moments; all you hear are soothing voices and soft touches. You come around, wedged between their bodies, as they kiss your face, shoulders, and neck.
“Well done, our wonderful precious girl,” Anthony praises, and you twist around to curl into his chest, familiar and so warm. “You took your lesson so well”. 
“Are you ready for your next?” he whispers warmly.
“What else did I do wrong, my lord?” you ask.
“Oh, nothing at all, my darling girl; you did so well taking your punishment. Now it's time for your lesson in pleasure.”
“Mm, that sounds wonderful, my lord.”
“Indeed, you have two teachers to please and please you.”
“As a treat, who do you want first, my good girl?” he nuzzles against your cheek, “I think you want to try Benedict's cock don't you?”
You bite your lip and nod meekly.
“Well, there's just one more surprise. Recline back on the chaise, my love,” he instructs gently, knowing you are still coming down from your intense experience.
Holding his hand gingerly, you crawl into place, hyper-aware of your nipples and clit. It feels like anything could make you scream again. You slowly settle down in a mostly reclined position. They are both watching you, unwinding their cravats. 
“Open your legs wide,” Benedict orders softly, and you obey on instinct. “Well, would you look at that brother? That truly is a work of art,” he adds, both of their gaze heavy between your legs.
They round different sides of the chaise and grab an arm each. You lay legs splayed as ordered, watching as they both loop their white evening cravats around a wrist each, tying a bow. They both kneel, and Anthony grabs your chin, his thumb swiping over your lips.
“We are going to tie you up, my darling, so you are completely at our mercy while we fuck you. What say you?” He asks.
“Green,” you enthuse, and he smiles warmly at your response. 
“And how are your nipples and bud, my darling?” he inquires sweetly. “I bet you are positively aching.”
“Yes, my lord, please make it better”, you beseech, writhing very slightly.
“Just a little while longer; it will be worth the discomfort, my darling,” he promises with a smile before leaning in to give you a soft kiss.
Benedict takes your arm to the side, bending it slightly above your head and loops the other end of his cravat around a brass ring at the top corner of the chaise; Anthony does the same. It is not uncomfortable, and you have room to move your arms a little but not much.
“I wish we had two more cravats,” Anthony contends. “We could tie her legs open too.”
“That's okay, brother; she can't close her legs with that pin on her body anyway,” Benedict points out, leaning down and pulling on it slightly.
You instinctively tug against your binding, crying out at the sensation it causes, gasping a breath. Benedict winks and moves away, pulling off his shirt.
Anthony hovers over you and kisses you, pulling your focus solely on him. 
“Oh, my darling girl,” he traces the contours of your face with his fingers, “I’ve never shared you with anyone like this. I trust you and my brother more than anyone; we make a beautiful team, don’t we?”
You nod.
“I’ve fantasised about watching you get fucked right before me. But don’t forget who you belong to,” he sighs, and you see the vulnerability in his eyes, a fear this step might change your dynamic.
“I’m always yours, my lord,” you breathe, reaching forward against your binding to chase his lips. He places a quick kiss, then pulls away slightly to your right. 
Your line of sight is now full of one thing. A very imposing, very naked Benedict, standing at the foot of the chaise looking down at you hungrily. He stripped while you had your moment with Anthony. Your breathing speeds up, realising what is about to happen. Your eyes fall to his cock, which he squeezes slightly in his hand. Memories of taking him down your throat flood back as he crawls slowly over your prone, tied body. 
His lips land on your neck, surprisingly tender, and your whole body lifts, chasing his. As his lips drag down onto your breast, your gaze falls to Anthony, 
“Does that feel good, my girl” Anthony’s voice is gruff, his hands busy undoing his shirt.
“Yes, my lord,” your answer morphs into a scream as Benedict teeths your trapped nipple. A large hand smears down your stomach between your legs and cups around your flesh.
“I think it’s time to remove this pin, don’t you, my girl?” Benedict’s voice is low and sweet against your breastbone.
“Please, sir,” you implore.
He gently eases the hairpin up and tosses it aside. The rush of blood to your clit is instant and shocking. You gasp, your eyes going wide.
“Oh, you feel that, don't you, my girl” Benedict gloats as he shifts between your legs.
“Yes, sir.” 
“What about this?” His tone is dangerous.
It’s the last thing you hear before he suddenly invades your soaked cunt. One strong, swift thrust buries himself deep inside you, a stretching, all-consuming invasion, your fingers and toes curling. 
“Oh fuck,” you and Benedict exhale almost in unison.
He feels different to Anthony seated inside you. You can’t articulate it; it’s just… a different stretch. No less intoxicating, though. 
“How is that, my girl?” Anthony pants as you stare over at him. He’s shirtless now, and his hand is at his trousers, roughly undoing buttons.
“So good, my lord,” you answer honestly, watching him undress as Benedict kisses your neck softly, your swollen clit pressed against his public bone. It won’t take much to make you come again.
Benedict cups your jaw to draw your attention to him, moving his face closer to yours. “I’m going to move now, my girl. Are you ready?” he whispers against your lips.
“Yes, sir,” you nod, meeting his hazy blue eyes.
He withdraws slowly, and you inhale, anticipation burning. He surges back into you, going even deeper this time somehow. As he makes contact with your clit you groan loudly.
“More, sir, please,” you petition, desperate to have him repeatedly slam against your swollen bud.
“Not yet,” he smirks, curling himself into the left side of your neck as you notice Anthony is now naked and taking a seat in a wingback leather chair a few feet away. Your skin prickles with excitement at the sight.
“Look at me, my girl,” Anthony calls as Benedict takes another stroke into you. You watch as he leans backwards and fists his cock. Oh god, he is going to touch himself while watching you get fucked. “You look so beautiful. Beg for him, beg for him to fuck you harder; I love to hear you desperate,” he implores. You are entranced by his hand moving steadily on his cock. You long to touch it, taste it. “Beg my girl,” he reminds.
“Please, sir, please fuck me harder,” you entreat to Benedict, your eyes pinging between him and Anthony, your voice cadence rising and falling with the roll of your body as he fucks into you slow and deep. The drag of him against your insides is so intoxicating.
“Oh, I love it when you beg,” Benedict gloats, a thumb sweeping your lips. “Do you like being tied up like this, my girl?” He questions, spearing into you more forcefully, smiling as you nod and moan. “Tell me how much. Tell me everything you like about this.”
“I love being at your mercy, sir,” you whisper, meeting his gaze and briefly sucking the thumb at your lips. “I love that my nipples are aching because you did this to me, sir,” you burble around his thumb. He growls at that one and moves to bite your earlobe. “I love that we are being watched, sir,” you confess breathily.
“Oh, does my dirty girl love an audience, hmm?” Benedict asks, cupping your jaw. “How would you like to be tied up and fucked outside, my girl? Where anyone could watch?”
“Yes, please, sir,” you enthuse, the thought making you gush more around him. A new thing you never knew you wanted until he said it.
“Do you hear that, brother?” Benedict says louder as he keeps pushing into you. “Our precious girl wants an audience watching her be pleasured.”
You look at Anthony and watch him lick his lips, moving his knees wider, his hand speeding up around his cock. “You filthy little girl”, Anthony growls approvingly. 
Benedict’s lips descend onto yours, and he captures your mouth as he increases the strength and pace of his thrusts; you are panting and whining into his kisses as he hits your distended throbbing clit more and more. It propels you fast towards the edge. You hear Anthony groan, knowing he is watching you, palming his cock. But you can’t see him as Benedict surrounds you, his arms encasing you close against him, the heat of his body intense, his chest glancing against your restricted nipples, aching so badly.
“Oh god, you are going to come, aren’t you, my girl,” Benedict moans, feeling your flutter around him.
“Yes, sir,” you grit out, writhing and chasing your peak, your grip wrapped around the cravats tying you down.
“Do it, come on my cock,” he commands, and all you can do is obey. You tussle against your bindings as you tense all over. The white-hot throbbing in your clit fanning out across your body, a static buzz at the back of your head, your toes curling, crying out as you pulsate hard.
“Oh fuck,” he exclaims, “you are like a vice, my girl; I can’t last.”
He groans deeply and suddenly withdraws from your body, spilling onto your belly, shuddering.
“You are amazing,” he pants as he grabs your face and kisses you some more.
“Happy birthday”, you whisper to him,  and he breaks into a killer smile.
“Thank you. You are the best gift I could receive,” Benedict compliments with a quick final kiss.
He moves gracefully off your body but twists to sit on the floor next to the chaise, reaching under it and grabbing some cloth, tenderly cleansing the mess he made on you. 
“I'm not going anywhere,” he assures, as you see Anthony rise from his chair and stalk over to you. 
Still quivering from the orgasm, you need a little time to reset. As he often does, Anthony senses that and lowers himself onto you gradually. His cock nudges against your body as he covers you, but he does not push in. Just resting against you. A hot solid weight against your inner thigh.
“You look so beautiful being fucked, my darling girl,” he gusts and runs his nose tenderly over your cheek, kissing along your jaw. Gentle, calming sensual movements.
Sitting beside the chaise, Benedict grabs your bound hand and holds it sweetly, pulling it towards him and kissing your knuckles, almost chaste. 
Anthony slowly kisses a trail down your neck as you sigh and feel his smile against your skin. He works his way lower, peppering your skin with little kisses until he reaches the swell of your breast and your breath a little more ragged; he’s skating close to your nipples, still throbbing within the hairpins.
He faintly holds his tongue against one, and you inhale sharply and let out a long whine. The lightest of touches feel like liquid fire searing you. 
“God, I've never seen you like this,” he groans and surges his hips against you, his tip nudging your entrance. “This was a genius idea, brother,” he concedes without looking at him.
Benedict just chuckles, looking up from kissing your hand. “You wait until we take them off”, he crows.
“When will that be, sir?” you ask.
“When he’s inside you, and it’s time for you to come again my girl”, Benedict replies with a crooked grin, kissing up your bound forearm. “I'll decide when that is,” he adds with heated mischief. 
Anthony huffs a laugh at that and takes himself in hand, lining up and pushing into you just a little bit. You sigh and close your eyes as he slowly slides into your body, Benedict's lips warm on your arm. 
“You are soaked, my girl”, he growls as he pushes into your hilt. That familiar feeling of being so held open by his warm solid cock is something you always treasure.
Anthony moves slowly at first, whispering gently into your ear about how good you feel, how it’s been too long, and you moan in agreement, wishing you had your hands to run into his luscious hair and grab hold; that always makes him buck a little hard inside you. 
Benedict shifts to sucking each of your fingers in sync with Anthony’s thrusts into you, his eyes trained on the movement of both your hips. The swirling of his tongue makes you long for the next time he goes down on you as he did before, holding you down forcefully. There is so much more you want to do with these talented boys and revisit—you will never tire of them.
Anthony increases the pace of his thrusts, hands smearing down your body to your knees, hitching your legs up and wider apart, making you gasp, moan, and writhe under him. You are fighting against the silky cravats' hold against your wrists, desperate to touch him, feel his warm skin under your palms.
He changes position, sitting up and hauling you bodily onto his thighs, hands wrapped around your hipbones as he pulls you onto him, hitting a new angle inside, the head of his cock spearing against that spot which drives you to madness.
“Please, sir, I need more,” you plead to Benedict between moans.
“What do you need, my girl?” he questions, licking his lips and scanning your body, watching your back arch, shoulders dragging against the velvet of the chaise. 
“Whatever you can give me, please, sir,” you implore, desperate for more sensation—a tide to sweep you away again.
“Hmm, then I think it's time for this…” is the only warning you get before he reaches and slides one hairpin off your nipple, immediately sucking it deep into his mouth as it revives. You scream loud at the rush of blood and sensation; clenching tight around Anthony’s cock he cries out.
“Fuck darling, do that again.” 
“Oh, she will.” Benedict gloats and switches attention to the other nipple nearest to him. Discarding the hairpin and enveloping it in a hot strong pull of his lips. His fingers snagging against the nipple that his mouth abandoned.
Anthony groans loud, fingers digging into your hips so hard he will leave marks as you scream and bear down on him again. Benedict surges up and captures your lips with his as he pinches both nipples, swallowing your screams and cries. For all the punishment you were metered out, there seems to be a balance more of pleasure as you climb quickly towards another orgasm. 
“Do it,” Benedict orders quietly against your lips, knowing you are so close you just need something to push you over the precipice, and he's decided to use his voice and hands.  “Do it now, come on his cock just like you came on mine, our beautiful filthy girl.”
Anthony's fingers find your clit, and it's too much at once. You stop hearing their voices and encouraging sounds; it all fades into black as a rush of blood fills your ears and your eyes close. You are swept away by the strong palpitations of your core, tensing and releasing all your muscles, notching up your spine, curving off the chaise, pulsing hard in your aching nipples.
Anthony grunts loudly and loses all finesse in his movements as he stutters and growls, pulling out just in time to spill himself onto your public hair. He collapses on top of you, gusting breaths, his head resting on your breastbone, your thighs still draped over his legs.
“Fuck. I’d forgotten what that feels like,” he pants. “We can't go so long without our girl again,” he admits quietly between deep inhales. 
Benedict kisses the dewy skin of your shoulder as you shudder delicately, sensations still rippling across your skin.
“You should never be out of our beds,” Anthony states, rubbing his nose unhurriedly over your swollen nipples, making you moan again.
“Our beds?” Benedict queries, a tinge of something hopeful in his voice.
“Yes, brother,” Anthony sighs, “I trust you with our girl. She's ours now, if the lady permits, of course,” he demures.
“Hell yes, she does,” you murmur. They both laugh warmly in response. 
“And yes, that means I permit you to spend time with her too, without me, on occasion, just as I do,” Anthony says sincerely, untying one of your wrists.
Benedict swallows heavily and nods his thanks as he does the same to your other wrist, freeing you completely.
“But I want both of you,” you pipe up, moving your arms to run your fingers into both of their hair, “all the time.” You add as they both sigh heavily at the sensation of your fingernails scratching their scalps.
“Well, that certainly…. can be arranged,” Anthony smiles up at you from your chest as Benedict nuzzles against your neck.
Your beautiful boys.
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Anthony & Benedict taglists: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @chaoticcalzoneranchsports
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moonlightsolo · 2 years
Text
summary: you and steve go back to hawkins to break the news that you’re pregnant, but things go a little off course.
pairing: steve harrington x byers!reader
note: this is so cute n fluffy but also kind of angsty and not proofread sorry </3
read part 1 here
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steve harrington’s arms are wrapped around your mid section, his unruly head of hair buried sleepily in your neck.
while laying, barely awake, in your bed, his hand rests on your bump under your shirt; his thumbs rub soft circles into your skin.
“steve?” your voice is soft and ridden with fatigue.
“yeah, babe?” he hums softly, the californian sunrise is just now barely lighting up your room.
“we gotta get up. we have a plane to catch.” you yawn, slightly stretching your body away from his.
steve grumbles something incoherent under his breath, hands gripping your hips to pull your behind flush against his front.
his plush lips begin to press lazy kisses against the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, “hawkins can wait.”
you can’t help but giggle at his words, “hawkins can, but the pilot of our plane won’t.” your hand reaches back to push through his hair, making him groan quietly.
“as much as i want to lay in this bed with you for eternity, we have to go… plus i really gotta pee.” you reluctantly push his hands off of you so you can sit up. you swing your legs off the bed so they hang there for a moment.
“noooooo.” steve protests, flailing his body so he’s laying on his back. you turn your head to the side to look at him staring up at you. the most pitiful look is on his face, his bottom lip is jutted out in a pout and his eyes are begging you to lay back down.
you can’t help but crawl back towards him, hovering over him to press a kiss against his addicting lips, “i’m supposed to be the one on top.” he whispers cheekily against you.
“shush.” you smack his chest playfully before swinging your legs over him and hopping off his side of the bed. you waddle over to the bathroom, disappearing behind the door to get yourself ready.
once your face is washed, and your teeth and hair are brushed, you walk back into your cold room to grab your clothes. steve is already dressed, sitting on the bed you once laid in and is now made perfectly.
“hey.” his eyes skim through a photo album you had created for you two.
his head perks up when he hears your voice, an instant smile forming on his tired face. “my baby. hi.” he sets the book to the side to make grabby hands at you.
your feet drag yourself up to him, his head at a perfect height to press a kiss against your belly. you’re wearing one of his shirts with no pants, his hands instantly find the crease where your butt forms into your thighs.
“love you.” you mumble as you brush your fingers through his soft strands, his head leans into your touch.
“and i love you.”
the past few months have been something you would’ve never imagined. when steve first arrived in california, you were only a mere six weeks pregnant. now, you’re around four months and counting.
steve had to go back to indiana at first, to settle things with his parents, before coming back to be with you. each time he visits, joyce welcomes him with open arms, so does eleven and will. jonathan, is just jonathan. they’ve always had a touchy past, so they barely talk. he takes numerous flights back and forth between each state, but this time he’s come to bring you back home to visit.
you’ll be in hawkins for two weeks, like a little vacation. you’re excited to see everyone again, and you know steve is antsy to break the news to everyone. he’s even come up with an elaborate plan.
a knock sounds on your door, making you both get whipped out of the trance you’re in, “you guys decent?” your moms muffled voice calls out from behind the wooden surface.
steve’s hands drop from fondling your ass, and you take a step back from him as the door opens. her eyes glance between you both suspiciously, “if i’m interrupting something i can come back in a few minutes?” she offers.
you shake your head with a giggle, “no, no mom. i just need to get dressed, we’ll be down in a minute.”
“ohhh-kay then…” she says disbelievingly, eyeing you both before leaving the room. steve stifles a chuckle into his hand, shaking his head.
“i don’t know why we’re acting like this, i mean i’m literally pregnant, so she knows we’ve had sex.” you shake your head as you walk over to your dresser to get dressed with a smile.
“yeah, it’s like we’re nervous little teenagers all over again.” his hands rub over his face before standing up to collect your luggages, “i’m gonna start bringing these down. i’ll meet you downstairs, yeah?”
you nod, puckering your lips which steve quickly scurries over to you to fulfill your wish. once he leaves you get changed in some black spandex pants, a white baby tee and an oversized flannel. you pull on some ankle socks to go with your chunky sneakers.
when you decide it’s time to head downstairs, you grab your backpack to sling it over your shoulders. eleven and will are sitting on the couch sleepily playing on will’s gameboy. jonathan is helping steve pack the car with their numerous suitcases, and joyce is also outside trying to help.
“hey guys. you ready?” you playfully rub your knuckles against the top of will’s head, “yeah. sure, whatever.” he grumbles, his thumbs continuing to press buttons.
sooner than later, it’s finally time to leave. the sun has just risen over the horizon and the byers family, and steve, are on there way to the airport. getting through security was a breeze, and sitting at the gate was boring, but your boyfriend kept you entertained with his dad jokes and soft touches.
boarding wasn’t terrible, but el was reasonably paranoid. she tried her hardest not to be scared, but you helped keep her calm. jonathan, will and your mom all sat in one row, and you, steve and el in the one directly across.
for most of the flight, you slept on steve’s shoulder or drew in a coloring book with el’s help. she would also continually check up on you throughout the flight to make sure you and the baby are okay. she’s been quite protective over you since she found out.
you won’t lie, going back to hawkins while pregnant terrifies you. the thought of something happening while visiting constantly runs through head. especially when el’s powers have disappeared.
“you alright?” steve asks, hand gripping yours as the plane descends towards the landing strip of indianapolis airport.
“me? yeah, yeah i’m fine.” you rush to say, squeezing his hand back. el grips your arm tight as the plane’s wheels touch the ground.
getting out of the airport was challenging. eleven and steve held both of your arms protectively as they weave and bob through the crowds of numerous people. finally, your family makes it outside. instantly spotting the wheelers. ted and karen are outside of their cars, searching around for your group with elongated necks.
once karen spots your family, her arms wave happily above her head. joyce greets her first with an excited hug. the back door opens, and a very tall and lanky mike steps out. your eyes widen at how big he’s gotten. you go to talk to el, but she has already left your side to run to him.
once the rest of your traveling gang says hello to the wheelers, you all load into their vehicles. thankfully the wheelers drove two cars to be able to transport your group.
you squeeze into the backseat of ted’s car with steve and will, sitting between them both. jonathan climbs into the passenger seat, keeping up small talk with mr. wheeler.
while on the way to their house, he can’t help but notice your pregnancy bump. your flannel has fallen away from your front and settled around your sides, “oh man. i see we have an extra passenger i didn’t know about. unless you packed on a few extra pounds since the last time i saw ya.” ted eyes you as he talks to you through the rear view mirror.
your hand instinctively rests on your belly, smiling awkwardly at him. “oh no… just a baby- yeah…” you chuckle, looking at steve with a little smile.
the ride is silent after that, a bit of awkward tension settles into the interior of the car. ted wheeler has always been kind of weird to you.
once the car pulls into the driveway of the wheelers house, you practically push steve out the door to climb out. “excuse you!?” he exclaims at you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion from your urgency.
“move.” you laugh and roll your eyes at him. his hand extends to help you out of the car which you gladly take. when your feet are settled against the pavement, his arm slides to wrap around your lower back. he leads you to the front door along with everyone else.
when you walk into the entrance, you’re lead towards the living room. it’s oddly quiet in here.
“surprise!!!” people shout as they emerge quickly from behind the furniture, making you squeal and jump into steve’s arms.
dustin, max, lucas, robin and nancy were all hidden, but now they’re smiling at your group with big eyes. “oh my god!” you cry out from seeing how grown up every one looks.
nancy runs to jonathan while max and lucas go to mike and eleven. dustin and robin choose to walk up to you and steve.
the boy calls out your name with a big grin, arms wide and open as he leans in for a hug. “henderson! long time no see!” you hug him back just as tightly.
you interrupt robin and steve’s conversation to pull her into a hug. so thankful to be able to see one of your really good friends again.
“robin!” you feel the lump growing in your throat from your rising emotions, “it’s so nice to see you.” her raspy voice whispers in your ear.
when you pull back, you wipe your fingers over your eyes to hide the wetness sticking to your eyelashes, “i can’t believe i’m back here.” you sniffle loudly and push your hair off of your damp forehead, “god, i’m sweating so bad.” you laugh and begin to pull your flannel off of your body. you sling the fabric over steve’s shoulder, forcing him to hold onto it for you.
suddenly, you realize everyone around you has gone silent and steve is staring at you with big eyes.
“oh shit.” you hiss out as you internally panic. your eyes dart around at everyone eyes fixated on your belly.
“you’re… pregnant?” dustin is the first one to speak.
“she’s pregnant?” you hear lucas whisper much too loudly to max, who’s face is as red as a her hair.
nancy is standing there in shock, her mouth agape with her arms loosely wrapped around jonathan’s waist.
“oh my god!” robin exclaims loudly, pumping her fists into the air, “i’m gonna be an aunt!” she pulls you back in for a hug, squeezing your shoulders happily.
“el? why didn’t you tell me?” mike questions her, “well- it was a secret.” she glances at you and you give her an apologetic look.
“is it steve’s?” dustin questions, making your head snap towards him. frustration bubbles at the surface, urging to lash out at him from that extremely ignorant question. “of course it’s steve’s, you little asshole!”
“language!” your mom scolds you.
steve leans forward to slap the back of his head, making the boy instantly grip the tender spot. “that was a stupid question, man.” steve scoffs, “why would you ask that?” he continues to lecture him.
you look over at nancy who is eyeing you with an odd look. then she breaks eye contact to whisper into jonathans ear. she grabs his hand and leads him out of the room, which sparks anxiety in your chest.
“well, congrats! i guess.” max shrugs, refusing to make eye contact with both you and steve. her arms are crossed over her chest with disinterest.
“oh yeah! uh- congrats guys!” lucas perks up, bobbing his head as he nods awkwardly.
“yeah…congrats.” mike rolls his eyes as he stares down at eleven, his arm slung over her shoulders.
“well, surprise!” steve’s arm slides around your hips to grip your waist, “we had a whole plan to break the news to everyone, didn’t we?” steve looks down at you with a soft chuckle.
his eyes glance between both of your eyes and your lips, before finally closing the gap to peck your lips.
“blegh.” dustin gags and turns on his heel to go talk to the rest of his friends.
“alrighty then! i’m gonna go find nancy.” she whistles as she prances away.
“i think she’s upset.” you whisper against him, your arms wrapped around his back.
“who? robin?” steve’s face wrinkles in confusion.
“no, no… nancy.”
“nance? wha-?”
you slyly roll your eyes at the little nickname, obviously feeling some resentment towards it. “but why would she be mad? she’s with your brother.”
you sigh and pull him away from everyone’s hearing range, “she looked upset. she left the room, steve. she obviously still has feelings for you. what else am i supposed to think?” your eyes drift to your feet, in attempt to hide your insecurity that’s blatantly plastered on your expression.
“hey…” his hand grips your chin to lift your face back up to his, “even if she is.. upset or whatever. it doesn’t matter because i’m with you now, and we’re going to have a baby together. our baby, yeah?” his knuckles gently brush against the roundest peak of your belly.
tears spring to your eyes from his words, your smaller hand wraps around his wrist to pull him down into you. “i love you so much, harrington.”
he chuckles shyly into your neck, “i love you.”
“how about we get outta here?” he pulls back slightly from the embrace.
“and go where?”
“my house? we can just be lazy… lay around… maybe take a bath?” he offers, a cheeky smile curls up on his perfect lips.
“yeah.. i’d like that.” you grin sweetly up at him.
steve leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead before stepping away, his arms open theatrically as he talks, “alright everyone!”
the buzz of conversation goes quiet and all attention is put on him, “it was amazing to see every single one of you and finally be reunited but we have to go. it’s about that time,” he glances at his watch and taps the glass with his opposite hand, “we’ll see everyone later!” he reaches back to grab your hand, letting you kiss your mom goodbye before leading you to the front door.
the sound of multiple feet stomping down the steps, makes you and and steve halt to look up the staircase.
robin, nancy and jonathan have paused their movements to stare at you two leaving. “oh- uh… where are you guys going?” jonathan continues to move down a few so he can talk to you.
“we’re leaving. gonna go home- i mean to his house and get settled.” you nod with a tight close-lipped smile as you glance between the trio.
robin trots down the last few steps until she’s finally downstairs, her arms wrap around your shoulders to hug you one more time. she presses a rough kiss to the top of your head, “love ya guys. keep my little nephew fed, yeah?”
“um, nephew?” steve asks with a laugh, “just a feelin’.” she shrugs and pulls back to lean against the railing.
steve’s hand is still in yours, and you can’t help but notice nancy’s silence as she stares at you two. she must have noticed the tension she has created so she decides to speak up, “i’m happy for you both… congrats.” she mirrors the same smile on your face, letting her eyes drift to steve for a bit too long.
“thank you.” you nod softly and go to reach for the door knob to open the door, “well, see ya guys tomorrow!” you chirp and pull a clumsy steve outside. he pulls his keys from his pocket, thankful that he parked his car at the wheelers house when he left for california.
he helps you load your luggage into his trunk, as well as his own before taking off towards his road. “well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” his fingers drum against the leather steering wheel to the beat of the music.
“no, i mean.. i totally screwed up the whole plan we had, but it wasn’t terrible. definitely made me panic though.” you shake your head in disbelief from the events that took place.
steve’s hand reaches across the center console, resting his hand palm side up so you can easily thread your fingers through his. steve instantly squeezes your hand around your own as he pulls onto his street, and then into his garage.
being the gentleman that he is, steve drags your suitcase all the way upstairs into his room for you. nostalgia hits you instantaneously as you glance around his familiar home- especially his bedroom.
all the nights you spent here flood into your mind; when you were just friends and you got too tired to drive home after studying, or when you were completely plastered after a party and steve let you sleep in his bed. when your friendship blossomed into something even better, and the numerous times you would hook up together and then he’d cuddle you until you both fell asleep. how you’d both wake up in the morning, panicked, because you’re both late to school.
steve is staring at you as you look around his room at all the memories, his hands resting on his hips. “you alright?”
“i’m perfect.” you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as you pick up a framed photo of you two off of his nightstand.
“i’m gonna go get the bath running.” he walks into his large bathroom connected to his room, the sound of rushing water sounds from behind the door.
steve knows you need this, to relax and just be with him, one-on-one. he knows being pregnant and having every single person breathing down your neck isn’t pleasant. he hopes that tonight will help you release some tension.
“come on in, my love!”
his voice makes you perk up as you slip into the steamy bathroom, closing the door behind you. a smile instantly forms on your face when you realize what he’s done.
a few candles litter the countertop and rim of the bathtub, and piles of suds float on top of the bath water. “oh, steve.” your hands cover your face in happiness.
“let’s get you undressed, baby.” he walks up to you, hands softly and oh so gently start to peel your clothing off of your body. he presses soft kisses against your skin of your neck and shoulder.
his fingertips softly graze your body as he helps you get rid of your articles of clothing. he guides you over to the bathtub, aiding you in sinking into the warm water. he starts to quickly pile his own clothes with yours, before sitting in the empty water behind you.
instinctively, you lean back into him. the back of your head rests on his chest with your hands on his upper thighs. a soft sigh of relief puffs past your lips as his hands work magic against the muscles in your shoulders.
“oh steve. that feels so good.” you moan out, rolling your head against his damp chest.
“don’t say that again, baby, or you’re gonna get me all worked up.” he laughs, thumbs digging into your plush skin.
all you can do is hum in response. between the warm water that surrounds your body and his amazing masseuse skills, it’s lulling you to sleep.
“steve harrington. i want to marry you someday.” you grumble out half-asleep.
his movements halt for a moment, before continuing when you let out a whine to protest.
“marry me?”
“i want to be mrs. steve harrington, and i wanna live happily in another state with you and our baby. away from this cursed town, and… and we’re gonna have a dog or a cat! and i just know we’re gonna be so happy. we’ll live happily ever after, right?”
steve can feel his own emotions catching up to him now, sniffling softly as he continues to massage you, “i want to marry you too. yeah, we’ll live happily ever after. of course we will.” his voice croaks out, tears blurring his vision.
“mm, good…” you slur your speech as you nuzzle back into him, making his arms wrap around your torso to pull you flush against him.
even though this day took an unexpected turn, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. knowing steve is going to be the best dad in the world, he will also be the best husband someday, and you can’t wait for the day your dreams come true.
“i love you so much.”
“i love you more.”
-
tags: @ashleylr012507 @geekmom3 @daffodil0darling @lilys174 @stevethebabysitterr @the-mad-woman
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katethewriter · 2 years
Text
Wish We Could Be Like That
Pairing: WandaNat x fem!Reader
Words: 5k~
Summary: Your relationship with Natasha and Wanda is a secret, but does it have to be?
Based on the song “Secret Love Song” by Little Mix
A/N: This was originally gonna be a one shot, but I got a little carried away. So I’ve broken it into 3 parts. This is my first time writing for the MCU. It’s also my first time writing a reader insert… so please be gentle :)
********Font Cheat Sheet:********
~Song Lyrics~
*thoughts*
Dream Sequence
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Part One Part Two Part Three
“What will we say?” you ask your girlfriends of six weeks.
The three of you lay on the roof of the compound looking up at the night sky. Natasha lies on her back with you pressed close to her side, head resting on her shoulder. Wanda curls around you with an arm wrapped around your waist from behind.
You’ve had the compound to yourselves for the past two months. The rest of the team being off on a lengthy mission.
A part of you expected to spend the two months as a permanent third wheel without the rest of the team there, but that lasted half a day. Really, you should have expected as much. You had been drawn to both of them from the moment you joined the team a year ago. Quickly you had bonded with the women and they became your close friends. But now, you were basically living alone with the world’s most perfect couple, and the rest of the team wasn’t here to act as a buffer when needed. However, it wasn’t awkward at all. The three of you instantly fell into a comfortable rhythm. There wasn’t a couple… plus you. It was just the three of you.
Two weeks into the two months, the two of them asked you to join their relationship.
The weeks since have been like a perfect dream. But unfortunately, that dream that is coming to a close. You had avoided the conversation as long as you could, but now it was inevitable. Tomorrow the rest of the team will be returning, and your momentary solace will end. When they left, Natasha and Wanda were in a relationship, engaged to each other, and you were very much single. Now, they are returning to the three of you as a trio. As much as you don’t want to admit it, the thought terrifies you.
“We can just tell them,” Natasha answers. Her hand tangles with yours.
“But what will they say?” you worry. You trust the team to be accepting, but fear still creeps in the back your head.
Poly relationships aren’t exactly common. That was the reason the three of you had danced around your feelings for so long. You had originally buried your feelings for the two of them. They were in a very committed relationship after all. You were convinced that pursuing the pair would lead to a mess that would leave you without two of your closest friends. You didn’t even know this was an option until the two of them approached you. When they kissed you, nothing had ever felt so right. Still, you have no idea how the team will react.
“What will they think? I mean… to them, you two have been together for years… you’re engaged, and all of a sudden I’m just an extra who came out of nowhere and-“
“Hey hey,” Wanda interrupts. She lifts her head, looking down at you tenderly, “detka, we talked about this…”
The two redheads had gotten engaged only a few weeks before you joined the team. The moment they saw you, you took their breath away. When they really got to know you, their feelings only grew. After months of quiet pining and a couple long conversations later, they had decided to pause their wedding plans to pursue you as a third member to their relationship.
Working up the courage to talk to you about their feelings proved to be much harder than they expected. Two months alone with you in the compound seemed like a sign from the universe that now is the right time. After you admitted feelings of your own, they knew they had made the right decision. You know the length of their relationship before they kissed you has no bearing on how much they care for you. They’ve spent hours reassuring you of that, but insecurities still take root in the back of your mind.
“No, I know, I know,” you’re quick to reassure Wanda. The Sokovian rests back on the blanket again, pressing her cheek to the back of your head. Her arm around your waist tightens, and the closeness calms you, “… I’m just saying…”
“So, we don’t tell them,” Wanda offers. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. That option doesn’t feel right either.
A part of you would be relieved not to face the reactions of your team yet. There’s another part of you that knows with complete certainty that this relationship is what you have been looking for your entire life. How can you possibly keep that a secret?
Silence stretches between the three of you. Your breathing lines up. It’s the kind of unity the three of you found in your weeks of privacy. The way you just meld together seamlessly.
Natasha is the one to break the silence, “…I get it...” You look up to her, silently asking her to ellaborate, “this thing we have is still new… Don’t get me wrong! It’s amazing… and beautiful and waaayyy long overdue…”
The last part pulls a big hum of agreement from Wanda, and you chuckle at the two of them.
“…but its new. We’re still figuring it out ourselves. The thought of someone else ruining it before its really began is scary.” You nod against her shoulder. She presses a kiss to your head, “We don’t have to say anything yet, not until we’re ready.”
There’s relief in knowing that you aren’t the only one worried about the team’s reaction. You lean up, grabbing her lips in a kiss. After a moment, a whine escapes Wanda’s lips. The sound makes you chuckle, and you’re forced to break the kiss with Nat. You turn to find the most pitiful pout on the Sokovian’s face. You roll your eyes before kissing her already puckered lips. The kiss is slow and gentle. When you break the kiss, she bumps her nose against your cheek. The three of you settle back into each other.
“For now…” Wanda grins, but you can’t see it, “we get to keep you all to ourselves.” At the last word, she begins tickling you. Nat joins in. Their fingers dance along your sides, as you thrash between them. After making you beg, they finally relent. You rest against each other again. Your girlfriends both press a kiss to your head.
You relish this time with your girlfriends while you can. Keeping your relationship a secret wasn’t ideal, but you know the three of you will figure it out together.
~We keep behind closed doors.~
You walk into the common area to grab something to eat before you begin mission prep. Your eyes immediately find Wanda cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Last week you would have gone to her, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind, burying your face into her neck. But that was last week before there were more eyes than just yours around. The rest of the team returned to the compound three days ago, and you are still struggling to adjust. Not able to reach out for your girlfriends the same way you could when you three were here alone.
You survey the room. Sam sits at a table, tinkering with Red Wing. Yelena and Kate sit at another table working on mission reports. With a sigh, you go to pour yourself a cup coffee. Mug in hand, you lean against the counter next to Wanda, sure to leave an appropriate amount of distance to be considered friends. “Morning,” you smile as you bring your cup to your lips.
She turns to you with a large smile, “Good morning *detka*,”  you hear her add the name silently in your mind, and it makes you smile wider. “What are you up to today?”
“Mission prep this morning,” you say, and you don’t miss the way the corners of her mouth turn down at the statement. You leave tomorrow morning. This was your first mission without one of them since you’ve been together, and neither of your girlfriends are happy about it, especially it being a solo mission. You continue with your plans for the day, hoping to distract her, “then I’m training with Nat before lunch. This afternoon, I’m supposed to meet Tony in the lab. Then of course there’s movie night tonight. You’ll be there right?”
“Of course,” she looks up for a moment to smile at you, before continuing her task. You stay there, content to watch her cook. A loose strand of hair falls into her face, and you fight the urge to tuck it behind her ear. To say you’re mesmerized is an understatement. You clear your throat to grab her attention. Then, you think loud enough for her to hear, *you look beautiful today, baby.* You smirk as a blush fills her cheeks.
Just then Steve and Natasha enter the kitchen, back from their morning run. The widow’s gaze instantly land on the two of you in the kitchen, both her girls in the same place. She makes her way over. She greets Wanda first. “Hello moya lyubov,” she wraps her arms around the younger woman, pulling her chin in for a quick kiss. You look away from the moment too private to be witnessed by a “friend”. You try to hide the frown of wanting a good morning kiss too. You know that keeping your relationship a secret was the right move, but that didn’t make it sting any less. “Good morning y/n,” Natasha’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. You look up to find the Russian looking at you with nothing short of adoration. Wanda continues cooking, this moment a private one of your own for just you and Natasha.
The look in her green eyes has the corners of your lips turning up in a smile, “good morning. Are we still on for training later today?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
~Every time I see you, I die a little more.~
In your defense, it started off as training.
You’re sparring with Natasha. It was the third go when she caught you in a hold with your back held tightly to her front. You try to twist out of her grip to no avail. After two more attempts, you know that she has won this round. ‘If you can’t beat them…’ you think as you push your hips back, devilishly rubbing yourself against her center.
In an instant, she turns you attaching her lips to your neck.  Training in one of the spare gyms gives her confidence. Its smaller than the gym reserved for the Avengers that you typically use, but, that gym is open to the entire team at all times. You two had witnessed firsthand two days ago the danger of training in such a public place. You were nearly caught several times, by wayward glances and surprise entrances.
Glancing to the door, your hesitation lasts for less than a moment. You drag her face up to yours, grabbing her lips with your own. You moan into her mouth, finally getting to kiss her. You’ve had increasingly less chances to do so since the rest of the team returned. You’ve missed this, and the grip she has on your hips makes you believe she has too.
Neither of you are paying attention when the door to the gym slides open. Like the snap of a rubber band, the two of you separate. Natasha walks to the edge of the sparring mat, nonchalantly reaching for her water bottle like she is taking a swig between sparring rounds. Taken by surprise, you do the only thing that comes to mind. You turn away from her and whoever just walked in the door, doubling over in faux pain, “God Nat, that one hurt. Ever heard of pulling your punches while you spar?”
“Cute.”
You turn around quickly to find Wanda standing in the doorway. She sports an unimpressed, but ultimately amused smirk, “nice save.” You sag in relief, glancing over at Nat who wears a similar look of relief. Though she quickly smiles, shaking her head at your antics. After an awkward moment of the three of you standing in silence, Wanda taunts the two of you, “oh please, don’t stop on my behalf.”
You roll your eyes and turn back to your Sokovian girlfriend, “you come to join in?”
Wanda shakes her head. “No,” making her way into the gym, she leans against the wall, “I just came to enjoy the view.” She waves her hand. A red mist appears by the door, locking it to anyone from the outside. The satisfied look on her face makes you chuckle, and Nat is on you instantly, reattaching herself to your neck. Your eyes close at the feeling, all you hear is your heart pounding in your ears and Wanda’s giggles from the other side of the room.
~Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls.~
Everyone is gathered in the living room, and by everyone you mean everyone. Team wide movie night was not an activity to be taken lightly. You barely all fit into the room, but you do fit. Every member of the team scattered across couches, chairs and the floor, huddled around the same large screen Tony had installed for this purpose.
Since you were leaving on a solo mission in the morning, everyone agreed to let you pick the first movie. Of course, you pick y/f/m. You settle on the floor between Yelena and Peter, adding your own commentary and jokes all throughout the movie.
About half way through the movie, you can feel eyes on you. Slowly, you take a peak at the rest of the group, until your eyes fall on the couch on the complete opposite side of the room. You lock eyes with two particular red heads across the room. Everyone else is engrossed in your movie selection, but they only have eyes for you.
Of course, they aren’t paying attention to the movie. They’ve seen it, a few times actually, during your time alone in the compound. They know the story, the characters, the plot. Tonight, they’d much rather watch you as your face lights up at your favorite lines or the smile you crack when you make the same jokes they’ve heard. Smiling in adoration, they just soak up the sound of your laugh and the feel of your joy from a far.
When your eyes meet theirs and they know they are caught, they only smile wider. Wanda scrunches her nose, and Natasha winks at you: a silent hello from each.
You have to duck your head to hide the blush and smile creeping across your face.
You look at them once more, and you try to ignore the ache in your chest. Seeing them curled up on the couch together, sharing a blanket, practically sitting in each other’s laps. Everything in you screams to go join them. That’s your spot right? …next to them?
You feel the itch of tears gathering in your eyes, so you turn you attention back to the movie, praying to any god above that no one, especially your girlfriends, notices the shift in your demeanor.
~It’ll never be enough.~
“Call us whenever you get a chance,” Natasha requests… again.
“I will,” you reassure her… again. “Jeez, you’re acting like this is some long scary deep-undercover mission,” you try to lighten the mood.
The quinjet is wheels up in ten minutes, and your girlfriends have pulled you into their room for one last goodbye before you go.
“It’s barely a week,” you repeat, “I’ll be back before you have a chance to miss me.”
Wanda cups your cheek with her hand, “we miss you already.” The sincerity in her eyes wipes away any smart ass remark you could make. You lean forward to kiss away the concern on her face.
“I’ll be careful,” you rest your forehead on the Sokovian’s. You try to catch her eyes, but she keeps them screwed shut. Like if she doesn’t open them, then you won’t go. You turn your head to Natasha who has attached herself to your side, “I promise.” You lean in to capture her lips in a last kiss. When you pull back, they wrap you in a hug so tight, it feels like they are trying to memorize the way you fit perfectly between them.
You can’t help but think that this is where you belong.
~Its obvious you’re meant for me.~ ~Every piece of you it just fits perfectly.~
You return a day early, working a little faster so you could get back to your girls.
You descend the steps to the laundry room. There’s a basket full of mission clothes tucked under your arm, but you could care less about laundry at the moment. The real reason you ventured here is already at the bottom of the steps.
Your curiosity peaks at the music that fills the air. It’s normally silent down here. You round the corner, and then you see her.
You knew you would; Friday said you would find her down here. You still revel in the sight: Wanda, all by herself, dancing slightly to the beat as she folds laundry. The piece of clothing she’s holding looks odd against the rest of her and Nat’s clothes. Its familiar and you tilt your head slightly. You can’t stop the question from escaping your mouth, “is that my sweatshirt?”
The sokovian completely freezes, except her head which turns to you rapidly. Her wide eyes take you in, “Y/n?” Her jaw drops open. The garment falls from her hands completely forgotten. You barely have enough time to drop your basket before she launches herself into you. “You’re back!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around your shoulders, clutching you to her chest.
All you can do is laugh and hold her, “I’m back.” You stay there, breathing in her scent as she buries herself into your neck. When her grip does start to loosen, you pull back to kiss her. Its starts as a simple hello kiss, but she quickly pulls you in to deepen it. When she swipes her tongue against your lip, you open your mouth. You allow her this moment. You know full well that if the roles were reversed you would need the same. She takes her time, exploring your mouth like she’s missed the past five days, not stopping until the need to breathe is too much for the both of you.
Your girlfriend sighs, holding you close to her, foreheads resting together. “Does Nat know?” she asks.
You nod, “she met me in medical.” At that, Wanda pulls away from you. She opens her eyes to fully take you in, scanning you for injuries. That’s when she notices the cut and stitches right at your hairline. You see the moment her eyebrows knit further together, but you stop her. “It’s nothing, baby,” you smile and kiss away the frown on her lips, “I’m fine, I promise.” You kiss her twice more.
Wanda eyes the injury once more before she sighs and nods, “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” you bump her nose with yours, a playful glint in your eyes, “those were some pretty sweet dance moves.”
The redhead rolls her eyes and tries to push you away.
“No seriously,” you stop her, holding her close as you begin to sway to the music that’s still playing through the speakers, “how’d that go again?”
It takes another minute of coaxing, but eventually you get Wanda dancing. The two of you twist and twirl around the room. Its complete bliss to be in each other’s presence again without a care in the world. It reminds you of when it was simple during those weeks you had alone without the prying of outside eyes. The upbeat song fades and a slower melody takes its place. You grab Wanda’s hand twirling her away from you, before pulling her back. Your arm wraps around her waist. Together you sway side to side.  
Standing chest to chest, you stare into each other’s eyes, “you didn’t answer my question.” She tilts her head in confusion. You chuckle, “is that my sweatshirt?”
Wanda’s cheeks flush instantly, and she ducks in slight embarrassment. “It smelled like you.” Your heart melts, and you bring her in to kiss you again.
The kiss lasts only a few seconds, before the sound of footsteps on the stairs has you pulling from each other.
Wanda returns to the forgotten piece of clothing she was folding when you entered. You retrieve your own basket of clothes forgotten at the bottom of the steps.
As you grab it, you glance up to see Clint pause halfway down, a bag of laundry thrown over his shoulder. You ignore the quirk of his eyebrow. “Hey Clint,” you turn and make your way to an open washing machine.
“Hey y/n,” he makes his way down the stairs and enters, assessing the room immediately. You desperately try to calm your pacing heart and act normal. You’re sure that you’re caught when you feel the archer’s eyes on you. You chance a glimpse at Wanda. She looks as composed as ever… almost like nothing even happened.
~Every second, every thought I’m in so deep,~
“Had enough yet?” you taunt Nat as you have her pinned faced down on the sparring mat. It’s the first time you’ve trained together since returning from your mission. You’ve been cleared by Dr Cho weeks ago, but Natasha still refused to spar until today. She’s been going easy on you the whole time. It was cute at first, but now you just want a real fight. So, you’ve resorted to antagonizing it out of her.
Apparently, it’s working.
With one swipe of her foot, she breaks out of your grasp. In an instant, your back hits the ground. Your girlfriend is practically straddling you. One knee digs into your hip, her other leg holds yours at uncomfortable angle. Your right arm is twisted and trapped between your back and the mat. Natasha holds your left wrist tightly above your head. Her other hand grabs your throat. “This better?” she hovers above you. Mockingly, she looks down with a satisfied smirk, “this what you wanted? To lose?”
“I don’t know,” you confidently lift your head closer to her, “you on top of me feels an awful lot like a win.” You watch her pupils blow wide open with lust. She looks like she is about to devour you when the sound of the door opening stops you both. Only you can hear the quiet growl that she emits.
For a moment, you return to sparring. You try to break out of the hold, but instantly know it’s no use. You tap the mat, and Nat releases you from the hold. She stands offering you a hand, and you allow her to pull you to your feet.
Turning, you find Yelena entering the gym, eyeing the two of you. “There you are, sestra,” the blonde barely spares you a glance, “y/n y/l/n.” You nod in her direction, trying to hide your confusion at the sudden cold shoulder from one of your closest friends.
If Nat picks up on it, she doesn’t show it, “here I am. What’s up?” You take this opportunity to let out some frustration on a punching bag while your girlfriend and her sister speak.
“I’m taking Kate out for dinner tonight,” the younger woman says, “I thought you and Wanda could join. It would be like a… what is it called? A… duo dinner… thing…”
“A double date?” the redhead asks.
The blonde throws a hand up, “yes! That! A double date!”
“Tonight?” Natasha’s eyes flick over to you to see if you had heard any of that. When your eyes meet, she knows that you did. You can see the hesitation in her expression. She’s gaging your reaction knowing the two of you and Wanda already had plans to spend the evening together.
You had planned the entire date, not telling them where you were going or what you were doing. It’s the first real date you’ve been able to go on in weeks. Between missions and training, there hasn’t really been a chance for all three of you to sneak out of the compound at the same time. To say you were looking forward to it is an understatement.
“I already have plans tonight, Lena,” the older sister tries to object.
Yelena throws her heads back and lets out a groan, “No! What plans??” She waits, but doesn’t get an answer. She steps closer to her sister, “just cancel, please sestra. I need you there. Our last date was a disaster, I need you and Witchy as a buffer just in case I put my foot in my mouth.”
Nat throws another look your way. You both know that Yelena isn’t gonna let this go. You sigh and put on your best smile, ‘Its ok’ you mouth. Silently giving her permission to say yes. The redhead’s usual cool expression slips for less than a second; in that moment, guilt drips from her face.
As quick as it appears, its gone again, but not before Yelena notices the shift in her sister’s attention. She glances over her shoulder, but you’ve already returned to attacking the punching bag. The younger widow turns back to her sister who’s composed expression is back in place, “come on, Tasha, please.”  
The older woman rolls her eyes and shakes her head playfully, “What time?”
You continue your assault on the punching bag while the two sisters continue to talk on the other side of the gym. Your hands begin to hurt from the force you’re putting behind your punches. You know they’ll be bruised tomorrow. You’re not mad at Natasha. It’s not her fault, and you told her it was ok. Hell, you’re not even mad at Yelena for wrecking the date you have been planning for two weeks. You’re just frustrated at the whole situation. This wouldn’t be an issue if you could just accompany your girlfriends on this double date, but that’s not an option.
Five minutes later, the two widows have discussed all the details of the evening. Yelena runs out of the gym to begin getting ready for the date, barely waving goodbye to you as she leaves.  The moment the door closes behind her, Natasha makes her way over to you. “I’m so sorry, Malyshka,” she stands behind the punching bag, holding it still while you continue to take swings. When you don’t say anything, she speaks quickly, “look, we don’t have to go.”
You laugh, “yes, you do.” You stop your work out and look up at her, “you just told Yelena you would go.”
“I can cancel. I’ll tell her Wanda is sick,” she counters, “we can still go on our date.”
You raise an eye brow at her, “and when she sees both of you walking out of the compound later tonight?” The red head opens her mouth to argue, but you stop her. “Hey babe, look at me. Its ok. I promise, its fine,” you reach out for her hands. You try to muster the most reassuring smile you can, despite the disappointment you feel. You were really looking forward to tonight, but you hate the sad look on Nat’s face. You can’t bear to add to the guilt she is feeling. “We can go on our date another night, and it will be just as perfect,” you shrug. You bring her hands to your lips and kiss them in a way that you hope is reassuring.
“Are you sure?”
You roll your eyes now, “yes babe, I’m sure.” You lean forward to kiss her gently, doing all you can to convince her its ok. You pull back, but leave your foreheads together. “Now,” you look at your girlfriend and wait for her to open her eyes. When she meets your gaze, you smirk playfully. Quickly you turn her towards the door, “go tell Wanda, so the two of you can get ready for your date.”
She doesn’t budge.
“Go,” you slap her ass, “have fun. I’ll be here when you get back.”
That makes her move. The widow jumps and makes her way to the door, “ok, ok. Can we come see you later tonight?” She looks back you one more time with a smile, “we’ll bring you dessert.”
You throw her a mischievous wink, “you are dessert.”
~But I’ll never show it on my face.~
Once she’s gone, you drop the facade. Your smile falls, and you clench your jaw. You focus back on the punching bag, and you don’t even try to pull your punches. Letting out the frustration with each hit. You don’t register the pain until you see red smearing on the surface of the bag. You pause, looking down to find your knuckles split and bloody.
“Shit.”
On your way to medical to have Cho take a look at your torn knuckles, the sound of your girlfriends’ voices stop you in your tracks. Their whispering is hushed, and you know you should probably not be listening in on their private moment. Still, you listen silently from around the corner.
“No.”
“Moya lyubov-“
“No Nat,” Wanda insists, “we’re not doing that.”
The widow tries to reason with her, “Malyshka, its already been arranged. It’s decided.”
“I don’t care. I’m deciding. I am not going.” Wanda stands her ground, “We haven’t gone out all together in almost a month. I am not canceling the date with y/n to go on one without her.”
“Wan, y/n already canceled our date.”
The younger woman pauses, “why?” You wince at the hurt in her voice.
“She was there when Yelena asked me. I couldn’t say no to Lena without telling her why we couldn’t go, so y/n told me to say yes,” Nat’s voice is laced with defeat. She wraps her fiancé in a hug to soothe her, “I told y/n we’d bring something home for her. We’ll go see her when we get back and spend all day tomorrow making it up to her.” She presses a kiss to the other woman’s head, “I don’t like it either, but this is how it is right now…..” Natasha releases a long sigh, “We need to get ready to go.”
Wanda’s shoulders slump and her voice breaks, “I don’t want to.”
At that, you decide you’ve heard enough. You turn and continue your trek to medical swallowing the lump in your throat. Fighting tears the whole way.
~But we know this. We got a love that is homeless.~
Part Two
Series Master List
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Okay but modern AU where Jaskier greencard marries Geralt’s ex, Yennefer, who he kinda hates, because she’s in trouble and he can’t resist helping people and also plans to hold it over her (in a bantery kinda way) and thinks it’ll be funny to rub in Geralt’s face when he inevitably comes crawling back to Yennefer.
They pass the interview with almost zero prep because it turns out back when they were jealous rivals for Geralt’s attention they learned way too much about each other. Then they have (supposed) hate sex when they’re drunk because 1. why not? 2. they’re both curious and 3. they’re both still kinda pissed off at Geralt the booze make it seem like the perfect revenge. 
Jaskier finds inexpressible amounts of glee in referring to Yennefer as his “ball and chain” and “old lady” and other unflattering nicknames for a spouse, and Yennefer enjoys ruining his every attempt at getting laid by waiting for him to make a pass, then storming up and slapping him and bursting into tears about him “ruining their marriage” by betraying his loving wife.
Then they sleep together again because neither of them is getting laid and they’ll each begrudgingly admit the other is good in bed (Yennefer says it’s the only time his incessant strumming is enjoyable).
Then the next thing they know they’re horrified to discover they’ve been in a committed sexual relationship with all the appearance of a romantic relationship for several months. They haven’t had a genuine fight since... well, Jaskier can’t remember. And Yennefer’s been at nearly every gig he’s played since they got married, and he’s got into a routine of giving her a foot rub when she drops onto the sofa after work, and the love song he wrote about her that was intended to annoy her has started to sound distressingly genuine no matter what he does, and Yennefer was terribly rude to Valdo when they ran into him and may or may not have keyed his car, and really, they’re better at being married than either of their parents were. They’re pretty good at being married full stop to be honest, and that’s when they’re not even trying.
And okay, so maybe he kinda doesn’t hate her after all. Maybe.
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itsasainz · 1 year
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passionfruit | pierre gasly x reader
Summary: You’re pulling away, so is he. Neither of you can blame the other, it’s just the natural progression of things.
Word Count: 4.3k
Warnings/tags: anxiety, breakdown of a relationship, angst, minor implications of some mental health difficulties
a/n: never written for pierre, but here I am writing all this in a few hours. I don't know where this came from lmao. requests open <3
masterlist!
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Listen
Seein’ you got ritualistic
Cleansin’ my soul of addiction for now
‘Cause I’m fallin’ apart, yeah
He can pinpoint the moment you realised you’d reached a stagnant point in your relationship with him to the minute; it had been early December — he had spent the fortnight after Abu Dhabi sorting everything out with Alpine, having wrapped things up with AlphaTauri within days of the last race. You’d flown back to London on the Tuesday after the race, leaving him in the Middle East with his new team — you still had a job, you’d reminded him, and that he’d see you in two weeks when he came to London to see you. It would be your third Christmas together, and you were spending it in France with him. Three weeks together, the longest you’d have spent together consecutively in months. He remembers the realisation in your voice, the two of you stood in a cramped South London flat you hated; still refusing to move to Milan.
“Pierre, we’ve had this planned for weeks.” you had said — there was no malice in your tone, a surprising lack of your usual heat. He remembers it striking him more deeply than he’d anticipated — the disappointment, and the overwhelming loneliness in your voice.
“Mon ange, there’s nothing I can do. It’s a team thing, I can’t start missing them before I’m even a proper member of the team.”
Your eyes never left his, a sense of judgement in the furrow of your brow. “Is Esteban going?”
He opened his mouth to say something, then a flicker of doubt arose. He’d thought he wasn’t, but now he thinks about it, the Frenchman had been discussing it with Elena only days ago. “I think so.”
“Then they’ve got one driver, they don’t need two. You’re double booked, and we’ve had this planned for weeks.”
He’d sighed — you understood exactly why he couldn’t just cancel, and he now understands that you wanted him to confirm to you that you were also a priority, and that he wasn’t only focused on work. He remembers the way you’d looked away from him, tears threatening to spill; it had felt disproportionate in the moment — crying because he couldn’t make it to dinner with your friends who he barely knew was dramatic. Now, he regrets his dismissal.
You’re asleep beside him, turned away, as curled up as you can be in a plane seat. He’d been surprised when you’d told him you were still coming to Bahrain, and then embarrassed that he’d assumed you wouldn’t come; did he really think that poorly of your relationship?
He’d realised, in his travels through January and February, his days away from you, that he can only really breathe when he’s with you; now though, you seem further away, like he’s never quite with you, even when he’s sitting inches away from you. He wonders if the closest you get these days is during sex, and hates the idea that nearly three years of your relationship might have come down to sex being the most emotional you can be with him. When was the last time you told him about your work anxieties or, for that matter, any of your actual emotions, deeper than a dismissive comment about being stressed or simply fine.
Appearances are maintained at the airport and the hotel, where you smile and kiss his friends on each cheek, laughing and joking with them like you’re not down, like you’re not avoiding his conversation. It persists into the weekend itself — you spend more time with Isa than with him, chatting in hospitality until he’s done, and then seem to immediately shut down, even if he knows you’ve had a good day. You’re brief with your affection until, seemingly suddenly on Friday evening, as he’s skipping through channels on the TV in the hotel room, you wrap yourself around him, ear pressed to his heart, breathing soft and hands cold. He’s puzzled, almost upset by your sudden affection, but he leaves his thoughts at a kiss to your temple. He falls asleep with you on top of him, your shampoo filling his senses.
The next day, after Quali, you apologise for his poor luck. Again, he finds himself blindsided; you’ve never been one to apologise for that which you can’t control. He turns it over in his head all night, once again finding your affection puzzling, and his reaction to it even more confusing, and decides he’s overthinking it. You fall asleep in his arms less often than he’d like, and he’s got to make the most of it.
Sunday has a stranger vibe still. You’re withdrawn, and he can probably count the words you share on his fingers. It’s impossible to know how to deal with it, or what to do or say to fix it. It’s that thought that he gets stuck on in the media pen after the race — what if it can’t be fixed? What if it’s not his responsibility to fix it?
When Charles asks if you’re coming out after the race, Pierre responds for you, given your absence. “No,” he says, “I think she’d rather stay in tonight.”
“Are you staying in?” Charles frowns. It’s admittedly unusual for Pierre to want to come out on nights like these without you at his side.
“Nah, I’m coming.” he assures his friend, leaving you a text to say he won’t be home until late.
Tension
Between us just like picket fences
You got issues that I won’t mention for now
‘Cause we're fallin’ apart
You want to say; points are impressive given where you started. You want to say; I’m proud of you. You want to see him, at the very least, but other than the ten minutes he spared for you after the race, you’ve barely spoken to him. His text is glaring up at you, a cruel joke.
He doesn’t want you here.
It’s the most logical explanation; he nearly jumped when you started cuddling on Friday, and barely any words have been shared. At least if you’re not speaking you’re not arguing. It doesn’t help that you’re down as it is, feeling like your brain has been fried by travelling and anxiety and the overwhelming feeling that you’re at the end of a chapter in your life. It doesn’t help that he hasn’t asked, hasn’t probed to find out more about your current state.
It’s not his responsibility, you keep reminding yourself, he’s your boyfriend, not your parent. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, though. The debate has been circling your mind for hours. If he cares so much, why doesn’t he say anything when you’re like this. If you’re as grown as you think you are, why are you so dependent on his care?
There's a nineties RomCom on the TV — you leave it on in the background while you scroll back through your texts with Pierre, wondering when it got like this, when he started to feel so distant. Who started it? Is it possible to say it was either one of you? Is it salvageable?
A thought of breaking up passes through your mind, snagging on unwelcome thoughts. You know that of the two and a half, nearly three, years that Pierre has been your boyfriend, more than two of those years were blissful. But the past months are tainting it — if you were to break up, would your memories of his love be marred by how lacking it feels in these moments?
The thought that snags, catching like cotton on barbed wire, is that perhaps you have wasted the first half of your twenties being in love with a man who cannot love you like you need him to. You think of the nights out you’d vetoed to spend an evening with him, of the opportunities you’d passed on to be around when he was in London, or the things you’d missed by constantly jetting off to Milan or whichever Grand Prix he was headed to. You think of the hours of your life you’ve spent in airports, anxious and tired, uprooting your life to spend 24 hours with him, to cry two nights later when he dropped you off for your flight home. You think of the years of your life you’ve spent caught between where your home was — with him, or with the rest of your life. It wasn’t a fair comparison. It wasn’t fair to resent him for something he had repeatedly provided solutions for.
Nevertheless, it felt clearer now. You didn’t feel settled in his company the way you always had — no, now you felt anxious. Anxious about being enough for him, about how good of a wag you were, or how good you were at being his girlfriend, at doing everything you felt you should.
Passionate from miles away
Passive with the things you say
Passin’ up on my old ways
I can’t blame you, no, no
It’s strange, you realise, that your communication with Pierre suddenly spiked the moment you were apart. How could you feel closer to him from 600 miles away than you did when you were right next to him?
He’d been texting lots, the two of you telling each other about your days again, complaining about rude colleagues or getting excited over the smallest of things. Over the phone, he’d listened while you talked about how you’d been down lately, worried about work and friends and, though you didn’t say it, him. He’s loving, and you return it in earnest. You miss him more than you care to admit, and for a few seconds at a time, you get the sense he misses you too. There’s no bickering, not a cruel word said.
You’re doing most of the talking, that much is also true. He listens, which feels like an achievement, but you still catch yourself wondering if he’s absorbing what you’re telling him, or if he still thinks about you when you’re not on the phone or texting. You don’t tell him you’ve been crying more than usual, or that your anxiety is through the roof, nor do you tell him that whenever you try to find the source of your anxiety, your mind finds to him like a compass finds north. You don’t tell him that you’re biting your nails again, or that you keep making mistakes at work.
Midweek, you’re in your kitchen, cutting a passionfruit in half on FaceTime. The pulp has covered your fingers, and you sit with a bowl under your hands, a spoon scooping the seeds out of the rind. For a minute he’s distracted by the fact that he’d forgotten your love for the fruit, and then wonders if they’re in season. He watches you eat a little, and continues what he was saying. He’s talking about the Saudi Grand Prix, about the logistics and some issues with his flight. A few weeks ago he’d mentioned that he wanted you to be there, but he’s avoiding talking about guests now, or Paddock Passes.
“Pierre,” you say, a deep breath.
“Yeah, love?”
“Do you want me there?”
There’s a long pause, stretching out before you. Does he want you?
“Do you want to be there?” he asks in return.
It’s like a kick to the gut. You don’t have it in you to answer, only a fear that if you open your mouth it’ll all spew out — the resentment, the fear, the anger you suddenly feel. You want to be there for him, and it feels like he’s just told you you’re no longer an important factor in his well being — no longer a person who makes him feel remotely good. What’s worse is that you think that, if that is true, it’s entirely justified. You’ve not been the easiest to be around lately, nor the most easily placated. He hangs up not long after, and you wish he couldn’t make you cry quite so easily.
Passionate from miles away
Passive with the things you say
Passin’ up on my old ways
I can’t blame you, no, no
It seems to Pierre that you are present in every spare second he has. Walking between meetings, pausing during training to take a drink — you’re there, in his mind, a constant reminder that he can’t breathe. Bahrain fucked with his head — suddenly, not even your presence eased his mind. You’ve always been easy to be around, aware of the dynamics and moods around you, always knowing what to say or what to do. You weren’t like that in Bahrain, you were quiet and withdrawn and a hundred miles away. The thought that circulates his head comes back stronger every time he thinks of you, misses you — is it him? Is he the issue?
That night in your flat, back in December, has been turned over in his head so many times he’s sure his retrospection has completely distorted the night, that his memory of it is more of a manifestation of all the possible ways he could have fucked up than a true representation of what happened. He’s trying to find time for you, responding to your texts the moment he has a free minute, FaceTiming you on his free evenings. He’s going to Enfield for a few days before he’s off to Jeddah, and the idea of getting to spend a few days with you is exciting, and yet somehow he’s dreading it.
He’s not sure how he’s gotten to this point, especially when he cares so deeply for you; his dread seems to root from the fear that he’s worse for you than he is good, and that is too scary a thought to address. He wants the best for you, he always has, and for years he thought he was that — something right, and something that made you feel better, happier, the way a loved one should. Now he's less sure that that’s true — he’s scared he’s draining, and the thought is pulling him away from you. What’s worse is the fact he knows, intuitively, that your feelings are mirroring his. How do you break out of this? How do you get back to a place where you are both confident in your love for one another, and assured in the fact that you are loved?
And then on Wednesday he’s watching you cut that passionfruit and he’s saying more than he has all week, getting the drama about travelling to Jeddah off his chest, scared to bring up the possibility of you coming with him in case you shut him down, and he has to go knowing you actively avoided coming. That’s when you drop the question, right as he’s stumbling over how not to get rejected if he asks you to come. He doesn’t want a repeat of the awkward silence that plagued you in Sakhir.
“Do you want me to be there?”
He doesn’t know what to say. Yes, God, he wants nothing more, but if you’re going to be quiet and cold like you were in Sakhir, he’d rather go without the stress of doubting himself and your relationship. He finds it strange that you’d ask — he would have you by his side every weekend if you’d let him, and he is certain you know that. In his head, the only explanation for your question is that you’re asking for a reason not to go. If you don’t want to be there he won’t ask you to be.
He doesn’t get a response when he turns the question back on you, and the seeds of doubt have been planted. His security about where he stands with you has crumbled, its already worn foundations collapsing under him. He is nearly winded by the panic of losing you. By the time he’s understood how he feels and what he wants to say, you’re hanging up, wishing him a good night. He curses himself for his indecision, and prays you’ll text him to say you do want to come to Jeddah.
Listen
Harder buildin’ trust from a distance
I think we should rule out commitment for now
‘Cause we’re fallin’ apart
It’s cemented in his mind that he has to end things by the time he’s landed in London, your text waiting to say that you can’t wait to see him. It’s for the best, he thinks, that he doesn’t drag this on for longer than need be — you’re clearly miserable in this relationship, and it is the right thing, the good thing, to do. You won’t end it yourself, he knows you well enough to know that; he knows you have a thing about not giving up, it’s a trait he understands better than you’re aware of — he can respect nothing if not your commitment. But he doesn’t truly believe that commitment of this kind, where he keeps making you cry, where neither of you can see a way of fixing it, is the kind you should cling to. It’s one thing to be committed, it’s another thing entirely to refuse to see that you are clinging to something that is long gone. He loves you, and he is more than aware that you love him, but he cannot justify the static, drawn out suffering of your relationship’s breakdown. He thinks you’ve probably already broken things off mentally, that your final probes have been about confirming that it’s the right thing to do — he’s done little to help his case.
He stands in the stairwell of your flats for longer than he should. He’s motionless in the landing between two floors, suitcase beside him, suddenly wondering if he should just get it over with. He can’t though, he’s not ready, and it’s not fair on you if he’ll be around for the next few days. He’ll do it on the last day, so you don’t have to look at him for too long.
He’s never been less sure of himself. That’s why he’s doing this — if he should be sure of anything, it should be his relationship.
When the doubt persists for the rest of his three days in London, he is assured that neither of you are in the place for a relationship. It feels strange thinking that knowing that you’ve spent nearly three years together, but he guesses you’ve grown apart. Grown apart or fallen apart, he’s not sure there’s much of a difference when it comes to you two.
On Wednesday morning, eating breakfast in your kitchen before he gets ready to go to the airport, he braces himself. He’d meant to do it last night, but you’d gone out for dinner together and he was too distracted by self doubt to do what he meant to.
“Y/N,” he starts. You watch him squirm, trying to find the words, and he suddenly realises you look expectant, like you know where this is going. “Do you actually want to be with me? Because I just have this feeling that you’ve been preparing yourself to break up with me for weeks.”
With the way your silence fills the air, he’s suddenly wondering if this is how you felt on FaceTime the week before. Your silence is the worst kind of murder.
“You want to break up?” you ask, never one to beat around the bush when you don’t want to. You’re more concise than he is, better at putting yours and everyone else’s thoughts into reality.
“No, but I don’t get the sense that either of us are particularly happy.” he admits. For the first time he wonders if the honesty he can exhibit around you is due to your own honesty, and not because he’s simply more comfortable in your presence; he is anything but comfortable now. Your bluntness is salt in the wound.
“So what, you’re leaving?” you ask. “You think that leaving is going to fix us?”
He shakes his head, “I think leaving is better than trying to fix a relationship that is dead in the water.”
You frown. “Dead in the water?”
He hates the way you repeat his words back to him. “It’s the better thing. I don’t like it, trust me, I don’t. But I can’t keep making you cry, and I can’t ask you to move to Milan again.”
For a second there’s a glimmer in your eyes and he thinks you’re about to tell him you’ll move to Italy. He wouldn’t let you, not matter how much it hurt.
“Don’t tell me what the better thing is.” you practically spit.
“Y/N…” he says, watching you stand up.
“I love you.” you tell him. “I’m in love with you.”
“I’m in love with you.” he says. “That doesn’t make us right.”
You’re crying. He’s simultaneously horrifyingly guilty and utterly assured that he’s doing the right thing. “Get out of my house.”
Leavin’
You’re just doing that to get even
Don’t pick up the pieces, just leave it for now
They keep fallin’ apart
Your jaw is tight as you watch him put his coat on. He stops at the door. “Y/N,”
“Stop looking at me like that.” you say, a newfound venom in your voice. You open the door for him, showing him out. He starts down the stairs and you find yourself calling out to him.
“Pierre, leaving is the coward’s way out.” you say. You’re angry, beyond angry, but the feeling in your chest is the same kind you get at a funeral, the heaviness of knowing that the inevitable has happened and it’s painful no matter how much you knew to expect it. He only nods, leaving you barefoot in the hall.
Back inside, you book a flight to Milan. It’s surprising how quickly you’d accepted the end of the relationship — perhaps there was some merit in his idea that you’d already broken the connection in your mind. You’re tapping your bank card on the kitchen counter, looking at the notice on your laptop confirming the purchase, and you’re completely and utterly done with him. His silences, and how the only times you ever seemed to talk lately ended in tears.
It’s easy to blame him, you acknowledge, easy to say he’s the issue. You’re not blameless.
Milan is the same constant hub of business it has always been, but its culture gets to you a little more than usual. It seems like every café and every restaurant is one Pierre had showed you, and you’re all the more determined to get the hell out of the city; you only have one stop, his.
It’s the easiest time to do it — you can get all your belongings from his flat and go straight home, not even a day away from home. The walk from the station to his flat is a familiar one, one you’ve walked a thousand times. Without Pierre, it’s easier — you don’t have to stop every five minutes for selfies with a fan, but somehow that gets to you. Perhaps it’s the young-ish fan, a teenager, who looks at you with the curiosity of someone who knows exactly who you are and doesn’t understand why you’re here. She frowns slightly, points you out to her friend, who gasps. As you pass, you hear one of them say; She doesn’t live in Milan though. Why’s she here without him?
When you get to his flat and let yourself in, you allow yourself to check your phone. He’s left a text. I can still see your location, you know. Why are you in Milan? You ignore it, opening up your empty suitcase and starting to make your way around the flat; room by room, you extract your things from his. Meanwhile, your notifications are going into overdrive. These are hardly his first texts — he’d texted and called you from Heathrow telling you he regretted it, and he needed to talk to you the moment he got back from the race — but you’re determined now. If he thought you were so bad for each other, you’d make sure to be gone by the time he got back.
I know you’re getting your things. Please, wait until we can talk about this.
Can I call you?
Mon ange, please answer
I need to talk to you
I fucked up
I love you. I’m in love with you.
Eventually, you cave. You’re sitting in front of your packed suitcase, your key to the flat on his kitchen counter.
“Love?” he answers. It must be late where he is, but that’s the least of your concerns.
“Pierre.”
“I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want you to leave me.” He says, “You’re right, it’s the coward’s way out. We should try, at the very least.”
“Don’t you see, Pierre, I have. I have tried more than ever these past weeks, and, d’you know, when you said what you did I finally understood something. I don’t have the capacity to try any harder — I don’t have the capacity to love you in the way I think you need me to. I don't think you love me the way I need you to either. You were right — more than I’ll ever care to admit — but we can’t drag ourselves through this. Let’s not torture ourselves.”
There’s another long silence. Silences seem to be half the communication between you these days. “I can fix this. I can pick up the pieces, I know it.”
“Pierre, I don’t want you to. Stop trying to pick up the pieces, stop trying to fix us. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is, and I refuse to get in your way. Let’s leave it as it is, and not ruin the memory of us anymore than we already have.”
“I love you.”
“I know, Pierre. I’m sorry we couldn’t love each other right.”
“It’s my fault.”
“Ours. It’s our fault.”
I can’t blame you, no, no
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somesprucetrees · 6 months
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Taking a moment to share my omega!Bakugou gif from way back. He’s getting fat so he can get bred full of healthy pups 😌
You’d think Kirishima would be the one to go pup-crazy, but in fact, it’s Bakugou.
alpha!Kirishima x omega!Bakugou
Omegaverse, breeding kink, weight gain, lots of sex, Bakugou getting pudgy and pupped, eventual mpreg
Male omegas have a harder time getting pregnant than female omegas, or even female betas. Fuck, even female alphas have a better shot at it than him. But Bakugou wants a family with pups. Viscerally wants dumb fat little babies waddling around his house, growing up big and strong and loved. God their pups… they don’t even exist yet but he’s already protective as fuck over them. They should be here with them.
Having a higher body fat percentage is one of the many traits correlated to male omegas successfully conceiving and carrying pups to term. And Bakugou is lean and mean. Plus, he has always had short, intense heats for an omega his age, a trait that works against him on the fertility front.
Kirishima accepts him no matter what, pups or no. Because of course he fuckin’ does. So Bakugou sets up their appointments. Their numbers are ok-ish. They come up with a plan. But what it boils down to is this:
Bakugou has gotta get some fat on him.
Being a little heavier (“fluffier” as Kiri puts it) will also lengthen out his heats from 3 to maybe 5 days. It’ll also protect against the worst of the weight loss that comes with male omegas being sick for the first 3 months.
He’s done all the research. They’ve met with a nutritionist and 3 doctors. They’ve come up with a plan. Kirishima is still in the “we shouldn’t push it” and “if it happens, it happens” camp because parenthood means putting hero work on hiatus. It’s something they’re both hesitant to do. Plus, Bakugou’s body will undergo a lot of stress; he’ll be forever changed. But Bakugou reminds him of every scar and villain fight that changed him, that changed them both. This isn’t that different. This a battle he wants to win.
So, they get down to it.
Kirishima goes on rut suppressants while they both focus on softening up Bakugou. It’s…painfully slow going at first. He’s powerful and strong, got the metabolism of a damn freight train. But gains are made. The inches and the pounds slowly start to stick to his muscular frame. Every gain feels like a cause for celebration! But it’s a lot of eating…
The plan is 40 pounds. And honestly, it’s not that much. It’s insurance. But once he finally (finally!) hits the 15 pound mark, it’s like a switch gets flipped. Not only does Bakugou’s appetite increase, but his metabolism finally starts to slow. And then the inches really start to show! Bakugou’s so damn proud of himself. Before he realizes it, he’s got 30 pounds of jiggling, soft flesh on his middle that wasn’t there a few months ago. It’s so… unlike the rest of him. Sure, his ass rounded out a bit, and his arms softened a little. But the belly he’s sporting now looks like mochi.
And it’s driving both him and his alpha wild. Why? Well, not only is it super fun to touch, to grab, to shake and pat, but it represents Bakugou’s growing fertility. He feels good like this. Plus, his alpha is so easy to tease. He can laze around, just rubbing and jiggling his belly, and suddenly a couple hundred calories worth of snacks just magically appears. It’s hard for Kiri to hide how much he loves what this is doing to Bakugou’s body. He can’t keep his hands off his omega’s perfect, softening belly. He’s gonna put pups there someday. And Bakugou can’t keep his hands off his belly either. The jiggle is just really nice, ok? When he’s pupped, it’s not gonna be all soft and comfy, and he knows that. But for now, it’s easier to imagine what being knocked up is gonna be like.
Bakugou’s first heat with the extra weight is insane. Kiri’s still on the suppressants as a pregnancy prevention; any pregnancy before Bakugou’s body is ready may not make it. They’d rather not risk it. But damn does Bakugou miss his alpha’s knot. Without his rut, Kiri can just barely keep up with his absolutely frantic, mess of an omega. He’s begging for more! Another round, another snack, more of everything.
The fact that Bakugou is an omega is public knowledge. And male omega’s gaining weight can only mean one thing. All around them, he’s suddenly doted on wherever he goes. By fans, his parents, their friends, random shop owners, everyone. Which, frankly, he hates because he only wants Kiri to spoil him. But how can he push away all the amazing treats? Those extra calories are necessary to get his body ready! So he takes what he’s offered, eating thousands of calories a day and getting softer.
40 pounds comes and goes. Kiri goes off his suppressants, and Bakugou has gained a respectable 55 pounds when Kiri goes into rut. Of course his omega responds and his heat starts the next day. Almost perfect coordination! They’re the best at this baby-making thing! It’s the most intense cycle they’ve ever shared, and Bakugou is certain he’s thoroughly bred by the end. He spent most of his heat face down in their bed being ravaged, spending more time being split open on Kiri’s cock than not. And his body handles it for 5 whole days.
The first cycle doesn’t bring any pups. But they’re not discouraged. It’s to be expected! It takes a couple of cycles even for couples with the highest chances!
What isn’t expected is that Bakugou’s weight continues to climb. And climb.
If you want more, lemme know!
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Note
Has anyone asked for any proposal details for Break yet? It’s so fun to revisit all of your stories!
Hello, Anon! I'm so sorry it took me this long to get to this one. I've actually had this in my drafts for literally years but it never felt quite right, so I didn't post it. I'm so glad you asked for it, though. It gave me the kick I needed to revisit it and figure out what was wrong. Hope you enjoy! And also, here's a link to the last chapter of Break, since it kind of helps to remember what happened in it for this to make sense.
<3 kdnfb
He thought about doing it on the twenty-third. That’d be exactly four months. July twenty-third. But she’d be expecting that, and a part of him still wants it to be a surprise. Well, not a surprise, but spontaneous. At least seemingly so. Hard to be spontaneous when they not only set a deadline of sorts, but he’s also practiced what he’d say in front of the mirror when she’s not home and has planned the evening nearly to the minute.
Wanting to catch her at least a little unguarded, so he can see her real reaction, he decides to ask her on the twenty-fourth. Just late enough to make her wonder, but not enough to make her think he’s forgotten.
Only, she calls him at work over her lunch break on the twenty-fourth and spends fifteen minutes venting about her boss being an inconsiderate, drunk dickhead. Not keen on the idea of proposing to an angry Katniss, Peeta decides it can wait one more day.
The next day, he leaves work a little early to prepare, but when he walks through the door of their apartment, he’s greeted by laughter. When the door shuts behind him, announcing his presence, Katniss and Prim call out a cheerful greeting to him from the couch before returning to their whatever show they’ve clearly just started to marathon. No big deal. He adjusts, making dinner for the two girls and staying out of their way, keeping a smile on his face and not fretting over the ring still sitting in his bottom drawer, buried under his jeans. He can wait until Prim’s surprise visit is over.
Two days later, when Prim has finally left, Katniss herself delays his plans. He inserts his key when he returns home that afternoon, but before he can turn it, the door flies open and Katniss yanks him into the apartment by his tie. She doesn’t even undress him all the way, just unzips his pants, pushes them and his shorts down enough to free his cock, and shoves him down onto the first chair they come to in their living room. 
“Katniss, what—“ he doesn’t get to finish his question because she climbs on top of him, pulling the skirt of her filmy sundress up as she straddles him. He notices that she’s not wearing any panties. “Holy shit.”
He gasps as he feels her wet lips caressing over his cock. Her mouth descends on his and he grips the arms of the chair for a second, until he can’t keep his hands off her any longer and grips her hips instead, holding her steady as she rocks her body back and forth, coating him with her arousal.
He’s hard in seconds, aroused and dazed enough to go along with it when she sinks down on top of him and starts moving. Slow at first, her knees jutting up and her thighs working hard enough to quiver. He cups her cheek in one hand and kisses her softly, drinking down her throaty moans and gentle sighs.
Peeta’s heart aches with how beautiful she is when she lifts her head and looks down at him, her gray eyes like molten silver, overflowing with love and need. He whispers to her the truth, about how incredible it feels being inside her. Joined to her. Feeling her orgasms unfold around his cock. 
Something he says snaps her loose, though, because she whimpers his name and then bites her lip. Bucks her hips wildly. She curses loudly and digs her nails into his shoulders. She throws her head back on a tortured groan when he slides his thumb down in between her lips until its wet, then drags his touch up to her clit. She comes within minutes, the powerful clench of her walls enough to milk his own release from him. 
When she collapses onto his chest, moaning about how glad she is that their house guest is finally gone, Peeta figures now isn’t the time to propose. Not with his semen and her release mingling together and seeping from her body, soaking his shorts and his suit pants. He probably could, but he wants his proposal to be clear. 
Their relationship may have gone from friendship to sex to love on the surface -- he’d always been in love with her, long before that first game of strip pool -- but he’ll be damned if she has any reason to think he proposed to her because he was stupid with sex.
Besides, Katniss doesn’t seem to notice or care that their arbitrary deadline from their bet over four months ago has come and gone without Peeta asking her to marry him. Not when they spend it naked and grinding against nearly every flat surface and a few not so flat surfaces in their apartment. After that, there’s no chance to propose, since they fall asleep, tangled in sheets and one another’s arms.
But today, he is determined. He’s going to ask her. And hope to everything sacred to them both that she hasn’t changed her mind. She would never have sunk that eight ball if she didn’t want him to ask. It’s part of why he distracted her the night of their game. To give her a way out of her impulsive wager if she wanted it. But she hadn’t. She deliberately walked out the next morning, smirked at him, and took her shot, all but declaring to him that she wanted him to propose to her.
And while Katniss might be many things, he’s never known her to be deliberately cruel. If she wants him to ask, it means she wants to say Yes. Knowing the probable outcome does nothing to soothe his nerves as he leaves work early to get the dinner started. 
He’s just about got everything ready to go, except the flower petals he’d planned on scattering over the floor, when Katniss opens the door and calls out to him that whatever he’s cooking smells amazing. Peeta wipes his palms on his slacks. Well, he thinks, the flower petals would’ve probably been too much. Katniss doesn’t care for ostentatiousness.
“Ready in five minutes,” he tells her as she kisses his cheek and then disappears into their room to change out of her work clothes. While she’s doing that, he serves up the dishes and lights the candles.
When she emerges, dressed in maddeningly short cotton shorts and one of his ratty old college t-shirts, his heart sinks a little and he rethinks his plan. No girl wants to be proposed to in loungewear, do they? She smiles at the setup, the candlelight glinting off her irises, turning them a darker mercury lit from within, and he’s momentarily stunned by how beautiful she is.
“What’s all this for?” she asks, sliding into her seat that he holds out for her at the table and pulling her legs up to cross them on the chair.
“Just because,” he says nonchalantly and sits beside her. He’s not even settled before she’s begun eating, and he smiles at the relish with which she consumes the food. Katniss eating is one of the most pleasurable and erotic things he’s witnessed. The way she savors every bite and moans around both new and favorite flavors alike.
His cock twitches to life, and he flushes, mentally scolding himself for his unchecked lust. But it’s not just lust. They share small glances and talk over the meal. She snorts once when he makes her laugh, claps her hands with glee when he serves dessert, and in the soft glow of the candle light Peeta relaxes. This is who they are, after all, and ratty t-shirt or not, he wants more than anything for his proposal to reflect who they are to each other.
“Katniss,” he says, twining their fingers together when she puts down her fork and licks the last of her dessert from her lips. She lifts his hand to her mouth and kisses his knuckles. The gesture so tender and soft that he’s momentarily rendered speechless.
“Dinner was incredible. You must’ve worked so hard on it. Wait here while I clean up?” she murmurs.
All he can do is nod and let go of her as she stands, gathering both of their plates. She leaves him and as the water starts in the kitchen, he can hear her singing, along with the accompanying clanking of the dishes.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Pull it together,” he berates himself. It still takes him until she’s done to work up the nerve to join her in the kitchen, and he starts talking before he even makes it there. He’s looking down, tugging the ring from his pocket.
“Katniss, there’s something I need to…”
But he trails off when Katniss comes into his line of sight. Kneeling on one knee right in front of him. She’s still wearing her comfortable clothes, but now an almost frightened smile quivers over her lips.
“I know you’re an utter romantic and I’m probably stealing your thunder here, Peeta, but I can’t wait any longer to ask you. And well, this is me after all, right? Impulsive and messy and more likely to propose in my pajamas than in a dress but you love me anyways.”
“Katniss,” he breathes out, his heart pounding so hard, he doesn’t care that he’s stealing his thunder.
“And I know the bet was for you to propose to me, but I need you to know that would’ve asked that day. But I really wanted to cream you in pool again and was definitely willing to play dirty for it.”
He laughs at this and then manages to pull his scrambled brain together.
“I play dirtier.” He holds the ring out in front of her. “Katniss will you marr--”
“Yes!” she shouts elatedly, cutting him off and practically leaping into his arms. He almost drops the ring as he slings his arms around her to catch her. Then she’s laughing and kissing him. “In a hundred different lifetimes, the answer is always ‘Yes,’ Peeta.”
He grins and pulls her mouth down to his, forgetting his carefully planned speech. He guesses he can save it for their vows.
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Mixed Emotions - Part 3 Petty Arguments
Summary- After finishing her first year of law school, Jack asks Gabriella to come on tour with him as his stylist.
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Over the next several months, Gabriella continued to periodically style Jack. She would never admit it, but she was enjoying it. Even though Jack and Gabriella didn’t always agree, in fact, they didn’t agree more than they did, but Jack knew that Gabriella was doing him a huge favor, especially since she was currently finishing her first year of law school. While it might have been a stretch to say that the two were getting along, they were definitely getting along better then they did at the beginning of the year.
Gabriella hated law school, she knew it was going to be tough, but she didn’t expect just how difficult it would be. It wasn’t that Gabriella wasn’t smart enough, she got into Emory University, a private university with the law program having an acceptance rate of 30% with no help from her parents. She had also gotten accepted into the University of Chicago’s law program, which had an acceptance rate of about 20%, but her mom had ties to the law program at that university and she didn’t want anyone to say that she only got in because of her parents. Which is why she completed the whole application for Emory University by herself.
It wasn’t even the difficulty of her classes, she was passing all of her classes with absolutely no issues. She just hated her classes. Gabriella realized very quickly that she did not want to be a lawyer, but she didn’t want to let her parents down.
The weekend after Gabriella’s university let out for the summer and she ended up spending the weekend at Jack and Urban’s apartment. 
“Hey Gabi?” Jack asked, sitting down next to her on the couch, Urban had left to go pick up dinner for the three. 
“Yeah?” Gabriella asked.
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“Okay, what do you want to ask me?”
“I was wondering, since you’ve been doing alot of styling for me, and I know you’ve been telling Urban how much you hate school, if maybe you wanted to do all of my styling for tour.” Jack offered.
“Jack. I can’t just drop out of school to be your stylist.” Gabriella sighed. “I’ve thought about dropping out, but it isn’t that simple.”
“But why can’t it be that simple? If you want to drop out of school, this is your chance. Why continue doing something you hate when I’m trying to give you the opportunity to do something that you obviously love.” Jack asked.
“You’ve never realized it have you?” Gabriella asked Jack.
“Realized what?” Jack asked, looking at her confused.
“That my parents don’t care unless it’s some big moment in my life. I’m not saying they don’t love me, but I was just never a part of their plans. My parent’s plan was to move from Chicago to somewhere where my mom could start her own law firm and my dad could start his own medical practice. They were so ecstatic when I told them that I was going to law school so that I could take over my mom’s law firm one day.”
“But they would want you to be happy with what you do, not stuck in some career you don’t want to be in.” Jack said.
“They want me to be happy, I’m not saying they don’t. I’ve never felt like they don’t love me or anything like that, but since they never planned on having kids, they’ve always just been more focused on work. I’m glad they didn’t give up on what they wanted because of me, but I do feel like I come second sometimes. I know dropping out of school would be disappointing for them, even if they didn’t show it. Even if they were happy that I was doing something that I loved, both of my parents are always so focused on work that I know it would be disappointing if I didn’t take over my mom’s law firm.” Gabriella explained.
“My parents showed up to things like high school graduation, birthdays, or award ceremonies, things like that, but if it wasn’t something special, or even that year I got a B in that one class, they didn’t acknowledge my grades that year even though I got an A in every other class. I didn’t get in trouble, but I also felt like I disappointed them. I know it will be the same if I drop out of school. I won’t get in trouble, but I know it will be disappointing.”
“Is that why your family moved to Kentucky? To start their businesses?” Jack asked and Gabriella nodded.
“Yeah, I didn’t want to move away from my home at five, leave all my friends, my nanny, I didn’t know anything different. My parents wanted to move before I started school though. They tried to get my nanny to move with us, but she had her own life in Chicago that she couldn’t leave. Which as a five year old, I was very upset that my nanny had her own life outside of me, but everytime we went back to chicago I got to see her which helped.”
“Your nanny as in your grandparents?” Jack asked and she shook her head.
“No. My parents hired a nanny when I was born. I had one nanny until I was two, then they hired a live-in nanny so it was easier when they went out of town. Then when we moved to Kentucky, my parents both had a work emergency, the only people they knew were your parents, since you lived across the street, and since Clay and I were a similar age and got along, your mom offered to watch me after that.” Gabriella explained. “I think I ended up spending the same amount of time with your family as my own, if not more.”
“Why don’t you just come on tour with me as my stylist for the summer. That way you won’t feel like you’re disappointing your parents while you figure out if you really want to finish law school.” Jack suggested and Gabriella sighed softly.
“Maybe, when does your tour start again?” Gabriella asked.
“Three weeks, but I think Urban and I are planning on going back home for the week before the tour, at least come home with us.”
“My parents aren’t even going to be in town.” Gabriella told Jack.
“But mine are, and my mom asks about you everytime I talk to her.” Jack said.
“I talk to her at least twice a week.” Gabriella said. “But okay. I’ll come with you both. And I’ll come on tour as your stylist.”
“Really?” Jack asked.
“Yeah. I’ll have to be back in Atlanta by August for school, but what if I hate touring?” Gabriella asked.
“If you hate touring, I’m not going to make you stay. My team will have you sign something but it’s more like an NDA, I told them not to put any specific dates on there for you working for me. I’m not sure why I’m explaining paperwork to you, you’re the one in law school, you can understand legal paperwork.” 
“Jackman Harlow. You told your team I’d do this before you asked me?”
“I uh, I knew you had finals and I didn’t want to stress you out more. I told them that you might not do it. They needed an answer.”
“Did you even think that I might say no?” Gabriella asked. “What if I didn’t want to tour with you? You do know you haven’t ever been the nicest person to me? I don’t have to do any of this for you. I should have known you weren’t pushing me to style you for the tour because you wanted me to come. You were doing it because you already told your team I would.” Gabriella snapped at Jack.
“Look, I was just trying to do you a favor. I knew you liked styling me, and I knew you hated school.”
“No, actually, I like styling. But it’s not just limited to you. I’d much rather style just about anyone else.” Gabriella interrupted Jack.
“You’re so fucking annoying. I was just trying to do something nice for you. ‘You haven’t been the nicest person to me.’” Jack mocked Gabriella’s voice. “Well I tried to, and you see where that got me.” 
“Doing something nice for me, would have been giving me an option before you said I’d do it.”
“Well does it really matter, you agreed to do it now.”
“Yes, it does matter Jack. I swear, you’re so lucky that Urban and Clay are going on tour with you too because if it wasn’t for them being there, I’d back out.” Gabriella told Jack.
When they were little, their arguments ended the same way every single time. Both of them pouting and making little comments back and forth because they both wanted to get the last word. Now that they were adults, nothing had changed. The only thing that changed was instead of Maggie defusing their argument, this time it was Urban.
Urban got home about 15 minutes later, finding Jack and Gabriella sitting on opposite ends of the couch, Gabriella had her arms crossed and Jack had his phone in one hand, they were refusing to talk to each other. 
“Okay, what happened while I was gone?” Urban asked, setting the food down.
“Jack said that I would-” “Gabi said that-” They both started at the same time before looking at each other and then back at Urban.
“You two are like my children.” Urban uttered underneath his breath. “Gabi first.”
“Why does she get to go first?” Jack complained.
“Because I like her better. Now let her talk before I have to put you both in time out.” Urban said sarcastically.
“Jack told his team that I would style him for his tour before he even asked me.” Gabriella said.
“Okay, Jack, your turn.”
“I knew Ella had finals and I didn’t want to stress her out more, so I thought I was being nice. I had a deadline, but I knew if she said no she could get out of it.” Jack explained.
“Gabi, if you want to tell Jack no, tell him no, but, I’d love it if you came. Jack, next time, ask Gabi before you agree for her to do something. That’s just common sense.” Urban said.
“Well Jack must not have any common sense.” Gabriella whispered and Urban held back his laughter.
“I heard that.” Jack said.
“I meant for you too.” Gabriella said as she stood up, walking to the kitchen, Jack following her so they could eat.
“I should have known better than to leave them home alone.” Urban said to himself, following them before they could get into another argument.
Tag list @jackharloww @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @hoodharlow @itsyagirljaz @heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @awhore4moree @harlowslefttoe @twerkforambrose @jackmans-poison @ilovenudy @taniapri @killatravtramp @easternparkway @macey234 @toocriticalharlow @lightsoutstyles @rachxc13 @iknowdatsrightbih @idktbh101 @blossomluvv @middlechild404
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ladykailitha · 1 year
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Can Anybody See Me? Part 10
Hey...you know how I said I had another fic I was working on that I planned on putting up the first part for today? Yeah...that didn’t work out. It needed a lot of heavy editing and because this got finished today with only minor edits, you get this instead.
Also...I realized that until this part...I never mentioned the name of the musical they’re doing. Ooops!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
*
To say Steve was nervous as hell would be an understatement. He had been in drama less than a month and now he was standing on the stage watching people mill around. And there was a lot of people. People who were taking measurements for costumes. Makeup and wigs people. Apparently kids from orchestra and band were going to be playing the music in the ‘pit’. Then there were people working on sets and up in the rafters checking the lights.
He had been to couple of plays on Broadway when he was younger. Of course he had. But he never knew how much went into making it look like magic when he was sitting in the audience.
A girl came up to him and squeezed his elbow.
“You’re Steve Harrington, right?” she asked.
Steve nodded, tongue tied from the sheer panic running through his body.
“I’m Janice Montgomery,” she said gently. “You’re friends with Gareth and them?”
Steve nodded again. “You must be the badass chick of the Hellfire Club.”
Janice grinned. “Oh good, you have heard of me.”
“A middle schooler I babysit for’s younger sister looves D&D so I try to talk you up as much as possible to piss her brother off,” he explained with a grin.
She laughed out loud. “Thanks. But I understand that this is your first time doing a play?”
“Acting in front of other people full stop,” Steve said, nodding.
Her eyes went wide and she tilted her head forward. “Please tell me you at least did the school play in elementary about the benefits of healthy eating.”
Steve scratched his face nervously. “Uh...that would be a no.”
“Fuck.”
Steve hung his head. “I really shouldn’t be here.”
She shoved his arm. “Miss Lucy isn’t the type of teacher to play favorites. Thomson isn’t a large role with a lot of blocking. Mostly standing in front of everyone else reading and being annoyed.”
Steve laughed. “I could do that, yeah.”
“See? You’ll do fine. You’ll dance for the major numbers, and then that heart-wrenching scene at the end.”
“Yeah, I auditioned with that scene, because it has both the singing and the acting in it.”
“Wow,” Janice said. “That’s impressive.”
Steve blushed. “Another middle schooler I babysit is in the drama club and asked him for pointers.”
“Well at least you know how to strategize,” she said. “Marty and I will help walk you through it. If have any questions come to either of us, okay?”
He nodded. “Thanks for this.”
The spot light lit them up and they both squealed from the sudden brightness.
Janice held up her hand over her eyes and screamed, “Eddie!”
Steve heard him cackle before the brightness was severely toned down.  And then Eddie dropped down in front of them, landing deftly on the stage.
“Mr Munson!” Miss Lucy called out. “I appreciate your grace as much as the next person, but one day you will break straight through this old stage and the school will not replace it.”
“Harsh, Miss Lucy!” he called back.
She chuckled darkly and went back to her notes.
“That was cool,” Steve murmured.
Eddie grinned. “She is right about the stage though. I don’t think they’ve redone it since it was put in god knows how long ago.”
Steve smiled.
Janice raised an eyebrow and then cleared her throat.
Eddie turned to her. “Congrats on getting Abby, Miss Montgomery.”
“I just can’t believe Tammy Thompson got Martha Jefferson,” Janice complained.
“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of hearing her,” Steve said.
“You’ll hear her a lot,” Eddie said. “She has a song in the second act.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”
Eddie and Janice just stared at him.
“Or not...”
They burst out laughing.
“Hey, guys!” Marty said jogging up to them.
Everyone returned greetings of their own.
“So...I found out how Tammy got the part...” he said with a grimace.
“Oh no...” Eddie said. “This can’t be good.”
“Her mom is a seamstress and has offered to make all the costumes for free as well rent the wigs for a low price.”
Janice stamped her foot angrily. “With an offer like that I’m surprised she didn’t gun for my role.”
Steve looked between them confused. “I don’t understand.”
“Have you not seen 1776?” Marty asked.
Eddie and Janice turned to him and stared at him as though he had grown an extra head.
“Um...” Steve stammered, “well...I’ve been meaning to and I just haven’t got around to it, yet.” He scratched his cheek nervously.
“You mean to tell us,” Eddie said slowly, “that not only did you try out for a play you haven’t seen, you managed to get a fairly major roll for said play?”
Steve nodded, blushing a deep red.
“That’s it!” Marty cried. “You coming over to my house and we are watching it!”
Steve frowned. “How are we going to do that? I didn’t know they put plays on VHS.”
Marty clapped his shoulder. “You are in luck my friend because they did movie several years ago.”
“I guess...” Steve said shyly. “I’ll come over on one condition.”
Janice and Marty exchanged a knowing glance.
“What would that be?” Janice asked innocently.
“If Eddie comes too?” Steve bit the bottom of his lip and looked up at Eddie through his eyelashes.
Eddie blinked. “As long as it not on a Hellfire night, I’m down.”
Steve smiled softly.
“Is tonight good?” Marty asked.
Janice shook her head. “I work tonight.”
Steve shifted back and forth on his feet. “We could do it tomorrow at my place. My parents aren’t home and I have a big screen TV.”
“Sold!” Marty said.
“Yeah, man,” Eddie said rocking back on his heels. “That sounds cool.”
“I’ll bring the tape, Marty will provide drinks and Eddie the popcorn,” Janice said.
Steve looked uncomfortable. “You don’t have bring anything I’m sure I’ve plenty of stuff.”
Eddie wagged his finger at him. “Ah, ah, ah, Harrington. That’s not how movie nights work. Host merely hosts. Everyone else provides.”
Steve blushed. “Yeah, okay. Then you guys can explain the Tammy Thompson drama.”
Marty clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “It’s is sooo good.”
Steve just laughed.
“All right everyone!” Miss Lucy said. “It’s time for the read through. Mr Kincade, Mr Munson if you wouldn’t mind helping set up chairs?”
Marty and Eddie nodded. They gathered up as much seating as they could find. Those that didn’t have any lines sat in the audience around Miss Lucy, Mrs Lawson the dance teacher, and Mr Dent the choir teacher.
Steve pulled out his script and waited for his first line.
Eddie sat in the audience and Marty flopped down next to him.
“You’ve got it bad,” he said, nudging Eddie with his elbow. “He know about your proclivities toward members of your own sex?”
Eddie winced. “Tommy called me a fag often enough, but no. I don’t think he knows.”
Marty patted him on the shoulder. “You probably should tell him.”
*
Everyone showed up at Steve’s house around seven. Marty having picked Eddie and Janice up.
“I got some candy anyway,” Steve said as he led the way to the front room.
Marty and Eddie just shook their heads.
Janice rolled her eyes but they wisely said nothing. They all got set up and sprawled out on the couches.
Steve hit play and lost himself in the music. He laughed at the funny bits swooned when he supposed to, and got teary eyed at “Mamma, Look Sharp.”
“You clearly enjoyed that,” Marty said.
“It was good,” Steve said. “Not very historically accurate, though, right?”
Eddie grinned. “Nope. Barely even close. But it’s fun and over the top.”
“It certainly is that,” Steve chuckled.
“Okay,” Janice said rubbing her hands together manically. “Who’s hotter: Thomas Jefferson or Lyman Hall?”
Eddie tapped his finger on his lips. “Jefferson. Love the lighter hair and tall.”
Marty crowed. “Red heads are hot, but gotta give it to my man, Lyman Hall. When he slams Georgia’s vote to yay...mhmmm...that’s some good shit.”
Steve frowned. “You’re both wrong.” All heads turned to him in shock. “Charles Thomson and not just because that’s who I’m playing.”
“You think Thomson is better looking than Hall?” Marty asked, dismayed. “You can’t mean that.”
Steve shrugged. “Hall’s good looking, sure. Soft spoken, too. But there is just something about how the actor portrayed Thomson that just brought this strength that Hall didn’t have.”
Steve blushed. “Plus Jefferson is married and I don’t look at taken people. No matter how hot they are.”
Eddie leaned forward and put his fingers to his lips. “Steve, I need to you to be honest with us. We aren’t going to judge or flip out but...do you like like boys?”
Steve blinked. “I never really thought about it. I thought it was normal to talk about how attractive other dudes are. Me and Tommy did it all the time.”
Marty and Eddie shared a concerned glance.
Janice shook her head. ‘That’s not something straight boys do.”
“Then why were you asking us about who was more attractive?”
“Because we deemed you safe,” Marty said as if it was the simplest thing in the world, instead of the massive bomb it should have been. “I’m bisexual. I like both.”
“And I’m gay,” Eddie said bluntly, resting his elbows on his knees.
Steve blinked. “Oh. I’m not sure what I am, then.”
Janice put her hand his shoulder. “Hey, you don’t have to figure it out right away, Steve. I didn’t mean to make question your identity.”
“Just don’t freak out, man,” Marty said. “I don’t think I’m equipped to deal with water works.”
Steve cocked his head. “I mean, I guess. But there’s no reason to freak out about it. Yeah, I’ve used fag and queer as insults and that’s not good. Obviously. But finding out I like boys? Not as earth shattering as I thought it would be.”
“And you don’t mind us being queer?” Eddie asked.
Steve frowned. “No. And I understand your concern. But no. Of course not.”
Eddie nodded and then sat back.
“So you thought Tammy would want to be Abigail instead of Martha?” Steve asked Janice. “Because it’s the bigger role?”
Janice flopped back against the cushions. “Exactly. Abby has more lines, more songs, more stage time in general.”
Steve let out a chuckle. “Then you don’t know Tammy.”
Marty and Eddie leaned in.
“Oh, do tell,” Marty pleaded.
“She would want the ‘pretty’ role,” Steve said. “Especially if she’s basing her idea of the roles on this movie. Virginia who played Abby is gorgeous, but in an understated, has had six kids and worked her whole life kind of way.”
“But Blythe Danner is just straight up hot,” Marty said.
Steve snapped his fingers. “Exactly. Tammy is just vain enough to want the Martha role even though it’s smaller...”
“Because she’s prettier than me?” Janice asked incredulously.
Steve laughed. “I didn’t say that. I said that Tammy thought that.”
“Mine!” Janice said throwing her arms around Steve possessively.
Eddie’s stomach rolled. He looked away so he didn’t see Steve blush and shift uncomfortably under her affection. But Marty did.
“Hey, quit hogging the guy,” he teased. “There’s enough Steve for everyone.”
Eddie looked back to see Steve gently push her off of him. “I’ve got a lot people who already have claimed that title, you’re gonna hafta stand in line.”
Janice and Marty looked at each other in confusion.
Eddie pursed his lips. “It’s the kids, right?”
Steve nodded, but Marty and Janice’s looks of confusion didn’t clear.
“Stevie here babysits,” Eddie said grinning from ear to ear.
Steve laughed. “At least that’s what I call it so people don’t freak out. So until Eddie took me under his wing, most of my friends were thirteen year olds.”
“I take in lost sheep,” Eddie said. “Never took in a senior before. Or a former popular kid, it’s been quite the eye opener.”
Steve blushed and ducked his head. “I’ve never been more grateful to see a person in my life then when I looked up and saw you that day in Mr Vinke’s class.”
Eddie shoved his hair in front of his face and looked away, this time for a more pleasant reason then before.
Marty and Janice looked over Steve’s head and grinned.
Part 11  Part 12 Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21
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booksandpaperss · 1 year
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“I’m just a little worried that Mike has to have a whole gay realization arc all in the last season”- YALL. PAY ATTENTION THATS WHAT HES BEEN DOING THIS WHOLE TIME:
Season 2: Mike is unaware of what his feelings mean but knows how much he cares about Will, legit spends the whole season being in love with him. By the end at the showball he realizes that somethings up, he doesn’t rlly understand what but he can tell something feels different and he doesn’t like it. Cue part 1 of his realization arc; subconscious denial
Season 3: Subconscious denial is rapidly turning to conscious denial, and at the start of the season we see Mike is in part 2 of his realization arc; a severe case of internalized homophobia. He cycles through it all the way to his absolute lowest point in part 2 (rain fight) and then he slowly comes back from it just a little bit. Then, at the end of the season, we see Mike shift onscreen from part 2 to part 2.5; conscious realization and fear. At this point Mike is halfway through his internalized homophobia arc. He KNOWS how he feels, but it still terrifies him. He grapples with this in the time period between s3 and 4.
Season 4: Ah yes, the penultimate season. The season that sets up endgame. The season that has an *entire gay road-trip plot line dedicated to byler*. This season is part 3 for Mike; acceptance. At first glance you miss it if you’re not looking, since s4 byler was almost entirely from Will’s lovely but very biased POV as he was also going through his own gayangstTM arc at the same time, but all it takes is a second glance to see that it’s there. At the start of the season Mike is on the very last, very flimsy legs of denial, and reuniting with Will again after not speaking for months is what catapults him into the acceptance chunk of his arc. In almost every cali crew scene, we see Mike slowly get closer and closer to total acceptance. We see him accept that he doesn’t love El the way he’d originally thought, he accepts that he loves Will the way he thought he was supposed to love El, and by the van scene, Mike is soso close to accepting that both of these things are okay.
Close being the key word here. Will accidentally throws him off again in volume 2, so Mike’s realization arc isn’t fully concluded yet, things are still very messy and season 5 has a lottt to address. But that’s the THING; season 5, as far as byler goes, actually only needs (for the most part ofc) to address development and realizations that have already happened. A lot of the fandom is really underestimating how much Mike suspects and has realized, at least about himself, and that’s where I think most of the remaining byler doubt is coming from (not including Twitter, we don’t count byler Twitter they do not know shit abt what’s going on 💀).
But that worry is unnecessary! Some of you guys don’t realize how perfect of a plot device Vecna is. I’m saying this as a writer: He’s like a writers dream bc you can basically tell viewers what’s happening in a character’s psyche while still maintaining “show don’t tell.” Bc now? All the writers rlly have to do to start canonifying Mike’s gay realization that has, once again, already happened, is have vecna target him! And they’ve clearly been planning that if that several billion hints in s4 and 3 and EVEN 2 AND 1 are anything to go by 👀👀
Guys, Mike’s *realization* arc is practically FINISHED. The duffers and writers have just been hiding it this whole time by not giving us any Mike POV in s3 or 4 bc they couldn’t confirm Mike before confirming Will, that would make byler endgame wayy too obvious they had to sneak it in there.
But it’s there, and it’s happened. The only thing WE have to worry about now is preparing ourselves for the sheer level of angst that is going to be Mike’s internalized homophobia plot line getting confirmed… I rlly don’t think we’re ready for that. I know IM not 😭
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melrosing · 11 months
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MBO Robert's Rebellion: Episode 6
we are over halfway!! (through season 1)
in this one... barristan selmy really ruins everything for everyone and Aerys endures a tragic backstory that kind of comes too late because he was already a piece of shit. also, dontos hollard origin story!!!
Prev: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5
Next: Episode 7
title for this one: Denys Darklyn Finds Out
We open in the Darklyn dungeon. Aerys sits chained to the wall, looking like shit. When the gaoler arrives to give Aerys a bowl of gruel or whatever, the squire Robin Hollard runs in after him to laugh at the king and pull his beard. When they eventually leave him in darkness, Aerys weeps :(
Opening creds :)
Back in King’s Landing: the King’s small council. How do we get Aerys out of this one? They talk through various eventualities, and in the worst case scenario it’s noted that should Aerys be killed, Rhaegar is ready to step up. Tywin’s face twists as he struggles to push this thought away
Rhaella, pregnant still, taking a walk with her ladies in the garden of the Red Keep. One of the ladies tells a simple joke, and it makes Rhaella laugh - abruptly, she seems stunned by her own laughter. Rhaella laughs harder, but it seems to be for genuine pleasure - she forgot what this was like
Time skip!!! Of approx. six months. Back to Aerys in the dungeon - we can tell time has passed because his beard has grown LONG and he looks like a sad wizard. The same kid as before comes in to give him a kick, but Aerys hardly retaliates - he’s weak, and seems close to giving up
UPSTAIRS: Denys Darklyn! He notes the ongoing siege outside, but offers his men encouragement - they have stocks enough to last them years, so the siegers (is that a word) best make themselves comfortable. The men are heartened. His wife Serala, sitting nearby, is sceptical: if they kill the king, they’ve written their own death warrants, she says - but if they were to free him, does Denys assume Aerys would ever forgive him? Denys looks mad at having been undermined, and his men look equally so at having had to listen to a truth they don’t wish to hear - from a woman, no less
Tywin approaches Duskendale, on his way to oversee the siege. Six months is too long, and Denys has refused his final demand to surrender the King. Tywin means to end this and storm Duskendale, but of course that risks Aerys' life - it's not a tidy solution. Riding with Tywin is Barristan Selmy: he has a Cunning Plan. What if he dresses up as a poor person and sneaks in? Everyone agrees it sounds stupid but what use is a kingsguard without his king? May as well lol
Barristan Selmy doing his thing: sneaking behind walls, quietly strangling men who get in his way, etc. real shit. Eventually he makes it to Aerys who is THRILLED to see him… but when Barristan looks at this man, shrivelled and pathetic, he can hardly remember why he risked his life for him. For a moment Barristan just stands there, staring mournfully, till finally going to the king to free him
Breaking out of Duskendale. Duskendale soldiers have discovered Barry and Aerys and surround them, but Barry’s laying on the Epic Moves - they’re getting out of there. Once they’re finally through, Barry takes Aerys to Tywin… who looks down at this wormy king with the most disgusted look on his face :\ Aerys sees it and hates him for it
Denys Darklyn watching from the window as the king’s men storm Duskendale - he gradually realises that somehow, they’ve lost the king. Eventually, the men make it to Denys, and take him; they take Serala, too
In the courtyard at Duskendale, where Aerys was first taken last episode. Guy has every member of house Darklyn and house Hollard assembled before him, and he is going NUTS. Everyone gets a gruesome death sentence!! the worst kind of oprah. Barristan at the sidelines, looks sicker and sicker with every verdict. When they finally reach the young Dontos Hollard, he’s driven to speak - he asks Aerys to spare the boy, and Aerys, grudgingly, does
Finally, there is only Serala of Myr. Aerys wonders aloud who she is, one of his soldiers informs him that the men of Duskendale consider her to be the woman who led Darklyn astray to begin with: he’s not been the same since he married her, they reckon. Really, this is all her fault. Aerys promises there are special punishments for such women
Later in the courtyard - most others have left, but Aerys stays, watching a pyre. He smiles - it’s doing something for him. Upon the bones of the body that burns, we see Serala’s Myrish jewellery, blackened
The following day, back in King’s Landing. Rhaella receives a missive, stating that Aerys is rescued, well, and on the Rosby road - due for return any day now. Rhaella forgets to breathe a moment, and then keels over
Aerys arrives in King’s Landing, and is directly informed that the Queen is in labour. Rushing through the Keep with Aerys, we arrive just in time to see Rhaella delivered of a baby boy. Aerys hooting in delight as the baby is placed promptly in his arms; on Rhaella, bone tired and painfully resigned - her brother is home
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