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cupid-styles · 2 months

Note

Oh fuck tattoorry piercing his girl’s nipples would be so hot specially with how much she loves humiliation that entire interaction would be so sexually charged

this took me FOREVER but I hope you enjoy!!!!

part of the tattoorry/plugrry world

word count: 3k

content warnings: piercings (mentions of needles), spicy but no smut

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

"Wait, you're being serious?"

Harry huffs out a laugh, sticking his chopsticks in the to-go container of veggie lo mein. "Of course I'm being serious. Why would I lie about that, dovie?"

His response, though not meant to make her feel bad, makes her shrug, a warm blush blooming over the expanse of her cheeks. She stuffs another bite of dumpling in her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully to save her from further embarrassment in front of her boyfriend.

"Don't feel bad," he murmurs, his large palm finding the space between her shoulders, rubbing her sweatshirt-clad skin comfortingly. Her eyes stay glued to the television in front of them, where they're watching the newest episode of Ru-Paul's Drag Race per Y/N's request. (She's never watched it before and Jo, the receptionist at St. Mark's Social, told her she had to. Y/N's been steadily binging it for weeks. Harry pretends like he doesn't love it, but he's secretly just as invested.)

"Dove, look at me," he sighs, placing his food on the coffee table. She does, positioning herself to face him and flittering her eyes up to his face. He looks tired, but they both are. It's been a long week of work and school — however, Y/N was able to get an interview for the bookstore on campus, which ended up causing her a lot of stress and anxiety. It ultimately went well and they said they'd be getting back to her soon. Even if it wasn't the bookstore she wanted to work at, it was still a source of income that would hopefully replenish some of her savings and help her pay rent and bills.

"I shouldn't have laughed, I'm sorry I did that," he says softly, "It's just a given to me, because of my work. Nipple piercings aren't otherworldly, like they probably are for you."

She shouldn't be nitpicking, but somehow that hurts just as badly. Sometimes, she feels like a child around Harry. It's as if he's lived a thousand lives in the adult world and she's just recently gotten to have a smidgen of those experiences.

"It's not otherworldly," she says the word like it's an insult, and Harry has to press his lips into a line so he doesn't laugh, "I just didn't know people got them."

Clearing his throat, he forces himself to put on his professional piercer-and-tattooer face, "Yeah. It's something that anyone can get and I've done a fair amount of them. Semi-painful in the moment with a long healing time. They can look good on the right person, though."

That causes her eyebrows to nearly shoot up to her forehead.

"What do you mean, the right person?"

"You're just a nosy little thing tonight, aren't you?" Harry fires back with a smirk. She goes to cower with deflated shoulders but he instantly makes a tsk-ing noise with his mouth, grabbing her hands to keep her close, "I just mean, like any piercing, it doesn't always look right on the person. Sometimes people get nose or eyebrow piercings and it's like, oh, that's fine. But sometimes it's as if their anatomy looks complete with the piercing — almost like it's meant to be there, if that makes sense."

It doesn't, but it only continues to pique her curiosity even more.

"What about me?"

"What about you?" Harry chuckles, using a hand to smooth her hair down.

"What piercings would look good on me?"

He smirks at her little game. She plays this sometimes, and he assumes it only comes from a place of true wonder. When they talked about the drugs he's done before, she asked which ones he think she'd like. (None, except maybe for weed, but she has to get her anxiety under control before she tries it.) They went over different styles of tattoos when Y/N was interested in his work, especially when he explained that his are just a hodgepodge of designs, some with meaning, some without. (He said she can get whatever she wants if she decides on something one day, but he's particularly partial to a little "H" on her bum.) And now, she wants to know what piercings would fit her.

"You can get whatever you'd like, dovie," he replies, "Just as long as I'm the one doing it."

She rolls her eyes and leans her shoulder against the plush of the couch cushion. "Yeah, but you're the professional, Harry! You know what would look best on me."

"Anything would, you're gorgeous."

"That's a cop-out answer and you know it!"

Harry laughs loudly and places his hands atop her shoulders, "Okay, okay. Let me think, dovie. I need to assess my client."

"Oh, you're being a professional now?"

"Shhhh!" he exclaims, and it only makes her laugh harder. He's already gone to that focused place, though, with wandering but fixated eyes and that small crinkle between his eyebrows. She feels bashful beneath his gaze, blinking her eyes as he analyzes her facial features. She's watched him work before, but for some reason, this in particular reminds her of the first time they met, when she sat in on him tattooing Mai. She remembers the way her stomach warmed and her core throbbed at his attuned facial expression, similar to how it is now.

"Okay," he murmurs. Slowly, he reaches up to gently tap at the side of her nose. "I think you'd look very pretty with a small nose piercing."

"Really?"

He nods. "Yes, but you're beautiful with or without, so it doesn't matter. Plus, I can't have my girlfriend looking cooler than me."

She's not surprised at the way he instantly returns to his teasing self, even if it's not exactly the answer she was fishing for. She watches as he leans forward to grab his carton of noodles. With her tongue peeking out to moisten her lips, she attempts to grab his attention again.

"What about...?" she glances down at her chest. Harry looks at her with a quirked eyebrow. Her form is currently swallowed up in a sweatshirt that's a few sizes too large, so she realizes she's not being entirely specific about what she's asking. "Like...?"

"Huh?"

She sighs frustratedly, "My boobs!"

"Oh," Harry's eyes widen, flickering down to her covered breasts, "You wanna know if you'd look good with nipple piercings?"

She nods, nibbling on her bottom lip. She watches at the cogs turn in his brain, his gaze meeting hers a moment later.

"Need to see 'em." he says decidedly.

She huffs out a chuckle as he helps her peel her sweatshirt off, leaving her in a comfortable bralette. It's pale pink and sheer, but with Harry's hands splayed across her ribs, he still pulls the fabric down. In an instant, her nipples are stiff and peaked from the cold air, and she's attempting not to feel sheepish underneath his intense eyes as they flicker between her breasts.

"I don't know why I'm even contemplating it," he says, though it's mainly to himself, "Of course you'd look hot with them. You're you."

He looks up at her with a goofy grin before pressing a kiss between them. She blushes.

"You think so?" she asks as her hand finds the back of his neck. He nods, eyes flickering closed when her fingertips play with the shorter, curly tendrils.

"Of course."

"Would you do it, then?"

Harry's eyes shoot open. "Wait, what? I thought we were just... talking, I didn't think you were being serious."

Y/N shrugs, "I dunno, I kind of like the idea of it."

"Dovie... you only have your ears pierced," he mumbles, sitting up and reaching to gently touch her ear lobes, "If this is something you'd seriously want, I'd want you to think about it for at least, maybe, a few days, not just 10 minutes."

"I've never done anything impulsive, though," Y/N says through a whine. He understands it, and his face crinkles some at her request. "You've gotten tattoos while you were drunk! O-or given stupid ones to yourself!"

"I know, baby," Harry coos, "But those were stupid decisions and I don't want you to make the same ones. You're so much better than that."

She sighs dejectedly. He presses a kiss to each of her cheeks, then to her nose.

"I get it, dove, really. And by all means, I'd rather you get an impulsive piercing than a tattoo. But the healing time is really long, and it is painful. I just don't want you to regret it or... or get mad at me, either."

Y/N's heart softens a bit, nodding her head as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. "No, I understand."

"If you still want them in a few weeks or months, I'm more than happy to be the one to do it," he says softly, reaching down to give her hand a small squeeze. She perks up a little at that, and he smiles. "Just give it some more thought, okay?"

. . .

Harry really, truly thought Y/N would never mention the whole nipple piercing thing again.

It turns out, his girl is way more stubborn than he could have ever anticipated, because it's been four weeks since then and she still wants them.

In fact, she's currently sitting in his little work zone, where he tattoos and pierces other clients. Not his girlfriend.

"Are you sure?" he asks for the thousandth time. In the time since she first brought it up, she's done tons of research, including asking Harry just short of a million questions. He appreciated her enthusiasm towards education, but talking about nipple piercings as soon as he finished up work wasn't always ideal. Still, though, he made sure to entertain anything she had to ask, even catching her looking up different jewelry styles and what it looked like on different people.

And, as soon as Jo accidentally overheard Y/N talking to him about it, of course she offered to show her own. Harry wanted to bang his head into a wall as he listened to them excitedly chatter in the corner, right after one of his employees bared her entire chest to his girlfriend. It had to be some type of workplace violation, only Harry served as the closest thing to Human Resources at the shop — and, considering they sold weed on the side, he didn't think he had much of a case against Jo.

It just so happened that Y/N got out of classes early on Wednesday and Harry hung around the shop those days, making deals and doing boring business administration things. When she asked if she could come by to get her piercings done, he reluctantly said yes.

It wasn't that he didn't absolutely love the idea of it — he did, actually, and his mouth nearly watered at the imagery it created in his brain. What he did hate was the thought of causing his girl any kind of pain. He was still in the camp of being fearful that she'd get angry at him if she didn't end up liking it. But her excitement towards it never wavered, and he would never be one to tell her no.

"Yes, I'm sure," Y/N replies, wringing her hands together in her lap. "I'm nervous, though."

"That's normal, dovie. Just try your best to relax, it's only me."

She nods as he shuts the door to give them some privacy. He never does that with clients, but he wants to make sure he's making it as comfortable as a process as possible — and, maybe he's keen on ensuring no one else gets a peek.

He busies himself with sanitizing his tools, washing his hands, and eventually pulling a pair of latex gloves on. He wishes he could make it a more fun experience for her, but the whole thing is quite medical.

"You already picked your jewelry out, right?" he asks lowly. She nods her head as she watches on.

"Mhm. I sent you a picture of it last week."

"Right, these simple pink barbels, hm?"

The piercing jewelry she'd chosen were pretty spot on to Y/N's aesthetic of being uncomplicated and feminine. When he saw what she picked, he immediately told her that it would fit her perfectly.

"Alright, I'm gonna clean them and then we can get started. Still feeling good?"

She nods again.

"You gonna tell me if you're gonna pass out again, baby?"

She scowls, remembering back to fainting from her first ear piercing. The sour, twisted frown on her face makes him laugh.

"That's still so embarrassing." she mumbles. On the newly cleaned workspace, Harry shakes his head, placing the sanitized jewelry and piercing supples down on it.

"Not embarrassing. Cute, actually," he corrects, peeling his gloves off. "Okay. I'm gonna help position you, is that okay?"

"Do you do that for every client?"

He narrows his eyes at her playfully, "No, you jealous little fiend."

She pulls her sweater off, revealing a pale blue baby tee. He swallows as she lays back on the extended table, taking a deep breath to surely calm her nerves. He gently squeezes her wrist, hovering over her form as she gets comfortable. When she shoots him a small nod, he smiles, flipping her shirt up.

"Okay, baby," he says, smoothing his hand over her stomach, "I'm sure you read this in your... insane amount of research—"

"Not insane."

He nods curtly, "Right, not insane," he quickly corrects. "Anyway, your nipples have to be hard for this. It helps with the placement."

She issues another silent nod his way but doesn't move to do anything. With a small smile, he gently cups her breast.

"Do you want me to?" he asks, his tone dropping lowly. She's not quite sure what he's even asking to do, but she still provides an affirmative answer. It's not a second more before he's latched his lips around her nipple, her eyes fluttering back from the sucking sensation. It's messy, the way he alternates between each one so they're swollen with his spit, and her fingers find his long curls, tugging at them gently to press him closer to her chest.

It feels like he's gone far too quickly, plushy, wet lips pressing a quick kiss to the valley between her breasts as he examines his work. Her mouth parts as she watches him bite his lip.

"You're good," he pants out, though he takes a moment to adjust the growing bulge in his pants, "Need to... put gloves back on."

They're both a bit lust-driven now, but Harry's quick to meld back into his professional persona after snapping a clean pair of gloves on his hands. Y/N swallows as he analyzes her, feeling squeamish beneath his eyes. Wordlessly, he grabs a marker and places two dots on either of her nipples.

"That's just for the placement," he explains, grabbing a mirror so she can look at where the jewelry would sit, "What do you think?"

Truthfully, they could have been completely wonky and Y/N wouldn't have noticed, let alone say anything. She trusts Harry implicitly, even if she still feels a bit hazy from the welcomed assault on her stiffened breasts.

"Good." she says with a nod, glancing up at him, "Looks good."

"Alright, baby," he replies. He turns to get the clean piercing needle from his rolling tray. "I'm gonna count down from three. I want you to close your eyes and inhale on three, then exhale on one. We'll take a short break after the first one, and then I'll do the second. Does that sound okay?"

"Mhm," she mumbles, nervously biting her lip. "Just do it, please. 'm gonna lose my nerve."

He chuckles and nods, instructing her to keep her eyes closed as he situates himself over her.

"Okay. Three— there you go, dovie, big, deep breath— two, one."

She immediately winces from the sharp bite of pain, a noisy gasp falling from her lips. Harry silently cringes to himself — not because the piercing isn't perfect, but because he absolutely hates knowing he's the reason why she's in pain right now.

"Keep your eyes closed, baby," he murmurs as he fits the jewelry through the first piercing, "Good girl. You're doing so good for me, hm? My strong baby."

She swallows harshly, hands balled into fists at her side. It's painful, that much is true, and she's beyond grateful when he finally finishes screwing the jewelry into place. She lets out a shaky breath and Harry coos, taking one of his gloves off to thumb her tears away.

"Was that okay, dovie?" he asks worriedly, "We can always save the second for another day."

Y/N quickly shakes her head, "No, no. Just do the other one now, otherwise I'll never have you do it."

Harry repeats the process on the other side. The pain is just as bad, tears continuing to cloud Y/N's vision and roll down her cheeks despite her keeping her eyes squeezed close. He shushes her softly throughout it, his heart tugging. Once he's finished, he's quick to wash his hands, listening to her quiet sniffles.

"I know baby, I know," he mumbles. He crosses the room as soon as he's done, sitting down next to her and brushing her hair back, "You did so good, you know that? 's all done, dovie, you're done."

She sniffs, batting her wet eyelashes up at him. "'s done?"

"Yeah, sweetheart." he says with a small, crooked smile. "You were so good. Took it like a champ."

"I didn't, I cried the whole time."

He chuckles and leans down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Do you wanna see them?"

She nods, nibbling on her bottom lip as he stands to grab the handheld mirror. He helps her slowly sit up, hinging at the waist. He holds it up to her chest, both pairs of their eyes staring at her swollen breasts. His eyes flitter to her face to gauge her expression, scared that she hates them.

"Wait," she mutters, cocking her head to the side, "Wait... they're kind of hot."

Relief floods Harry's system and he smirks. "You think so?"

"Yeah," she nods, sitting up on her knees, "I know they're kinda puffy right now but... I think I like them. A lot."

Harry swallows harshly, dropping the mirror on his chair. Suddenly, he's surging towards her and taking her cheeks between his large palms, smushing their lips together like his life depends on it. It takes her entirely by surprise, and it's hurried and hot and desperate, so much so that she's panting into his mouth and gripping at his black tee-shirt.

When he finally breaks their kiss, strings of spit still connecting their mouths, he keeps his forehead pressed against hers. Again, he glances down to get another look at her chest.

"I love you so fucking much," are the only words he can utter out before he's pulling her jeans down to bury his head between her legs.

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d10nyx · 1 month

Text

over again

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dark content, heavy dub-con, forced ddlg, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, fingering, p in v, creampie, mentions of past drugging, daddy kink, lots of pet names

a/n: took me forever n ever to write this ahhh sorry :/ hope you all enjoy it !! feedback always appreciated !! hopefully the writers block will finally perish.

word count: 1.6k words

14 weeks. 98 days. 2352 hours.

Leon leaves the house at 7.30 am every morning, except for Sundays. From Monday to Thursday, he's home around 6 pm. On Fridays, he isn't home until around 9 pm. Saturdays are the worst because he's home just after lunch.

Usually, when he comes home, he goes to the bedroom and unlocks the door to let you out. He threads his hand in your leash to take you upstairs, giving you a kiss on your forehead as he takes you to the kitchen to eat a meal. He gives you your food on a pink, plastic princess plate with plastic cutlery, and cuts the food into bite size pieces. More often than not, he hand feeds you.

You don't fight it. You'd learned your lesson. You refused food from him once. For 2 out of your 14 weeks locked up in his home, he'd underfed you to the point of starvation until you were begging him to feed you. He sat you in his lap, cooing all sweet as you chewed and swallowed every mouthful he'd given you. That day was the first day he slept with you.

It wasn't all bad. He was sweet. Gentle. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was a loving boyfriend. Someone who cared for you, not the creep who'd snatched you from the street after you had a few too many drinks at your friend's party, promising you a better life, safe from the world.

But he isn't sweet, or nice, or kind. He didn't do this for you, despite what his twisted brain tells him. You can pretend all you want that he's something other than what he is, but it doesn't change what he is. A monster.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Where's my little princess?” Leon's asking as soon as he walks into the house, kicking his shoes off and hanging his jacket up at the door. You recently got free reign of the home for being on your best behaviour. Didn't even have to keep the leash attached to your collar anymore. Lucky you.

“Here, daddy.” You say meekly, poking your head out of the living room to approach him, fiddling awkwardly with the edge of your shirt. Head down, so he doesn't have to see the defeated expression on your face as you force out the words, swallowing thickly to hold back your tears.

“You have a good day, sweetheart? You do any coloring in those cute little books I got you?” Leon's hands come up to your cheeks, gently stroking his thumbs back and forth across your cheekbones. You shake your head, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from saying something.

“No? Why not, baby? You don't like them? I got the one with lots of kitties. Pretty girls like you like cute things, don't they?” He coos, squishing your cheeks in his hands to make your lips all pouty so he can lean down and give them a little kiss, letting out a loud ‘mwah’ as soon as his lips make contact.

“You eat at least? I left some food in a lunchbox for you.” You shake your head again, and this time it seems to elicit a worse reaction. His brows furrow, and his hand grips your face even tighter. “No? Silly baby… can't do anything without daddy, can you? Come on. Daddy'll feed you, cutie.”

He heats up some food for you and puts it on a plate. The pink, plastic princess plate. He sits you on his lap and feeds it to you from a fork. Pink, plastic fork. The routine is the same, no matter how much you wish for it to change. When you finish eating, he presses a tender kiss to your head and rocks you in his arms.

“Such a good girl. Good girls get rewarded, princess.” He murmurs, pressing soft kisses against the skin of your neck, trailing them up until he's nosing at the hair behind your ear. His hand slides up your thigh and under your skirt, his thumb swiping your swollen bud through the already damp fabric. It didn't matter if you didn't want it. Your body didn't seem to understand what was happening - all it knew was Leon made you feel good. You hated how compliant you got when he touched you, how any thoughts of defiance melted away.

You go limp when he touches you. Docile. You let him do what he wants to you, just like a good girl should. Back-talking daddy is a big no-no. He wrote that in big writing on the rule list that's pinned to the fridge. Escape didn't use to seem impossible, yet now the thought never even crossed your mind. You'd tried, but he kept a tight lock on you. You wouldn't be surprised to find out one of the many injections he gave you when you were unruly had a tracker in. He always seemed to know exactly where you were.

You whimper as he dips his hand under the waistband of your panties. He parts your puffy lips with practiced ease as he continues on with the next part of his routine. 98 days later and he's mapped every inch of your body perfectly - found out everything that has you keening under his touch. Your hips buck as he runs his fingertip between your folds, gathering slick before rubbing small circles into your clit.

“Poor, dumb baby. She's soaking me already. You couldn't make yourself feel good when daddy was gone, huh, sweetheart?” His words are followed up by a finger burying itself in your tight heat, curling to find that gummy spot that has you clenching around him and bucking your hips. “Pretty princess cunt's been drooling for me all day.”

A choked sob leaves you when he pulls his cock out and sits you on top of it. He pulls you down until he's buried to the hilt, groaning as you tighten around his length. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, peppering it with tiny little kisses. You can't help but cry whenever Leon fucks you. 98 days later and you still sob whenever he bullies your cervix with his dick. No matter how many times he makes you cum or makes you go dumb on his cock, it doesn't change anything. He took everything from you - your family, your friends, your job.

You hated yourself more than Leon. For letting him break your walls down. For clinging to him as he tightens his grip on your waist, manhandling you on his cock, lifting you up and down. For finding yourself missing him when he's at work.

“Love…love you, daddy…” Your words come out more like a cry, nose all runny and cheeks wet with tears as he fucks up into you, his head shifting to hang back in pleasure. His fingers dig into your waist as he hears the words, a breathy laugh leaving him as he smiles - all toothy and bright like it always is when you say that.

“Love you even more, princess.” He grunts out, leaning back on the seat to force himself deeper into your pussy, guiding your hips back and forth so you're grinding his cock inside of you, rubbing your pretty clit against his happy trail. You gasp at the sensation, your hands gripping into his shoulders as your brows furrow in pleasure.

“Daddy… daddy…” You gasp out as your orgasm hits, your lips parting as you gush all over him. The look on your face as you cum is enough to have his balls tighten, his teeth gritting as he starts to shallowly thrust into you once more, chasing his own release. You always cry when you cum, and Leon always kisses the tears away when you do, his lips pressing against the wetness on your cheeks repeatedly. Another part of the ritual, another moment repeating day after day.

“Want daddy to fill you up, sweet girl?” He grunts, nipping at your neck as he wraps his arms tight around your waist in a bear hug, holding you steady as he fucks up into your drippy cunt. “Gonna warm you up right in that cute lil’ tummy.”

His hips stutter as his orgasm hits him, his jaw going slack as he presses the tip of his cock right up against your cervix, filling you to the brim with his sticky cum. He slides a hand under your shirt, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into the skin of your tummy.

“That's it. Keep it all in, okay? Daddy doesn't want to see his little angel spill a single drop.” He says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He holds you there for a couple of minutes, cradling you against his chest until it's time to go to sleep.

Before bed that night, Leon ushers you into the bathroom. Like every night before this one, he gently grips your jaw with one hand as he stands behind you, his other hand gripping your pink princess toothbrush as he brushes your teeth, his eyes locked onto you through the mirror. At bedtime, he tucks you in and curls up behind you, spooning you with one hand on one of your tits, and the other wrapped tightly around your waist.

Tomorrow is a Friday. He wakes you up at 6.30 am with a kiss to your head as always, a warm cup of milk in one hand and your breakfast in the other. He feeds you off of a pink, plastic princess plate and presses a kiss to your lips before leaving at 7.30 am on the dot.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #tw dark content

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stevieschrodinger · 5 months

Text

So what if like the thing that makes Alpha and Omega pairs, true mates or whatever, is like a detectable thing that they can test for. And like, everyone has their little blood test at birth and then on say, their 18th birthday, the Alpha gets informed as to who their omega is.

Obviously it's a bit of a sexist deal and lots of Omega and their supporters are trying to get it changed so that both parties are informed, to make it fair, and that is getting some traction but right now, the Alpha gets told and the Omega has to wait for them to show up.

Except when Eddie, fucking excited as all hell to meet his Omega finally, opens his envelope to find Steve Harrington's name starring back at him and Eddie just. He just can't. Steve's one of the biggest bitches at Hawkins high. And even if Eddie can, sort of, get past that, Steve's a snob. He lives in a fucking mansion and has a nice car and preppy clothes and yeah...Eddie is going to get rejected stone cold and that would be fair because he doesn't have a single thing to offer and Omega like Harrington.

Eddie burns the envelope.

And yeah, he can't help but watch Steve a little more now that he like, Knows, but he does his best to put it behind him.

And Steve gets into a fight with Nancy wheelers new Omega, when Nancy gets her envelope, and it's not Steve's name inside and it looks like Jonathan came out on top and Steve...well, he looks beaten and sad and that nearly makes Eddie cave but...no. no.

Right up until he has Steve under his hands, pinned to a boathouse wall with a bottle to his throat and Eddie's been thinking of Steve has his Omega for so long it just kind of slips out. Eddie whispers it, 'Omega' and the bottle drops to the floor and shatters more.

And Eddie has to watch it play out from close range on Steve's face, dawning realisation. Deep hurt. And then anger. An angry shield that comes down as he pushes Eddie off.

"Dustin explain to Munson what's up, I'll be outside a minute.". And Steve just stomps out and there's fuck all Eddie can do about it.

And then he kinda gets distracted by hell dimension stuff. For a bit. And Steve's clearly fucking angry with him and Eddie, well, what the fuck is Steve expecting Eddie to do, right? Steve would never have wanted him in the first place. So Eddie is fucking angry. And it comes out spiteful, calling Steve 'big boy' like he knows it'll rile Steve up. Throwing his jacket at Steve so he will cover up, because he can't bare to look at all the skin Steve is showing, especially with fucking Wheeler hanging around. And if it got something of Eddie's on Steve, well then, it doesn't fucking matter does it? Doesn't mean anything.

And it's not until it's all done, and Eddie wakes up fucking high as a kite on pain meds, with non other than Harrington sitting by his bedside that it all slips out, "what are you doing here?"

Steve shrugs, won't look at him, "waiting to see if my Alpha dies, I guess."

And he just sounds so...bereft. so broken.

"Steve, I just...look-"

"Doesn't matter. You've made it clear. It's fine. And you're going to live I guess so I'll just-" and he's standing, turning to leave.

And Eddie knows Steve now. Sees him with the sheep. Knows he isn't a bitch. Knows he's just...a good guy. Knows he isn't any of the things Eddie thought he was.

"You grew up in a fucking castle." Steve pauses, sitting back in the chair to frown at Eddie.

"What has that go to do with-"

Eddie clears his throat, it's dry and scratchy and hurts but he has to do this. "You grew up in a castle. Nice car. Both parents. Preppy clothes, fucking, shitty fucking jock friends. Steve, you would have rejected me in a heartbeat. I live in a fucking trailer and sling drugs on the side I'm not- I couldn't do that to you."

And Steve just, he just starts crying. He nods, wipes his eyes, "I might have," he admits finally, "I don't know what I would have said...but I needed you. Since then I needed you so much and," he sniffles, wipes his pink nose .

"And I didn't know. I couldn't have and I am so sorry but could we just, now, can we just-" and it hurts like fuck but Eddie bites it down because Steve is half clambered into the bed next to him and yeah. Yeah, that's perfect.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #alpha eddie munson #omega steve harrington #world building #ficlet #i write

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thegnomelord · 1 month

Note

I wonder what’s the aftermath of the gaz baby trapping fic?? 🤔🤭

Okay this got me into another hyperfixation so here's a super quick thing. NSFW, MDNI FTM Gaz/ cis male reader

One line.

Gaz's fingers shake as he stares at the pregnancy test in his white knuckled grip. Acrid disappointment burns at the back of his throat, sharp tears prickling the corners of his eyes as he lets out of a long breath. He shakes his head and tosses the damned test into the bin, trying not to think of it as he washes his hands.

He tries to make sure he doesn't look like it bothers him, but you're perceptive, "What's wrong?" falling from your lips the moment you see him, and shit, if that doesn't warm his heart.

"Nothing love." He eases your worries as he gets into bed in record time, huddling up next to you and feeling your arms wrap around him. "Just a bit under the weather. Rookie duty." You make a sound of understanding and pull him closer, laying gentle kisses on his lips and cheeks and anywhere you can reach until he's giggling against your lips.

"Good night." You mutter once you're satisfied and think you've lifted his mood. He stays awake after you've fallen asleep, simply staring at your slumbering face, your warmth seeping into his marrow.

He'd been so sure it would take, he'd ridden you until you were shooting blanks. But at the back of his mind he had thought this could happen, understand he had been sloppy, his chances lessened by you being injured and him having freshly come off the infertility drugs.

So he takes his time to do it with precision this time: Carefully timing his cycles and using fertility drugs, eating the foods old wives tales claim will boost the chances of him getting pregnant.

So he's confident when he seduces you into sex again on the one evening both of you are free; not that it takes much — simply meeting your gaze across the meeting room and licking his lips has your attention fully on him, a small nod of his head all it taking to have you follow after him.

His fingers claw into your back from how tightly he clutches you, heels digging into your flanks and hips gyrating to meet your thrusts as you pound into him. He's so loud you're sure you'll get complaints come morning, but right now you couldn't care less except to hear more of his moans and whimpers and cries as you fuck another load into him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes- oh love more!" He tries, sweet cunt clenching sinfully tight around you, drops of your cum leaking past your cock as his hole flutters around you. The position you have him in, legs over your shoulders and bent nearly in half, has your cock going to deep he swears you hit his diaphragm with every thrust, your heavy balls slapping against his ass.

He's happy he'd slipped you that aphrodisiac as you just continue to fuck him all night long, pumping his hole full of cum again and again until by the end of it he looks pregnant, both of you exhausted as hell and unable to do much other than fall asleep in a tangle of limbs.

You don't think nothing of it, just glad to be alive to be able to enjoy his love and affection. That is until you find him crying in the bathroom, and you hug him before you can think of anything else, just trying to comfort him and understand why he's sad, only for him to silently hand you a small white stick, burying his head into your neck to silence his sobs.

And you don't notice him smirking against your throat as you stare at the two lines on the pregnancy test.

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #top male reader #trinkets from the hoard #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #kyle garrick x male reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz smut #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod modern warfare

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rafesfavgirl · 10 days

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gurl i neeed a part 2 of stop asking me to stay, that broke me😭😭😭

you ask, i deliver :) hope you like it!!

i don't regret a thing — r. cameron

part 1.

❝ we're not the only ones, i don't regret a thing every word i've said, you know i'll always mean ❞

pairing: ex-bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: you and rafe have been dating for seven months, and while the relationship started it out well, as soon as the honeymoon phase ended (about 3 months in), everything went to shit. you've been trying to put up with it, knowing the situation with ward, but tonight, you realize you've had enough.

words: 2.4k+

warnings: swearing, toxic relationship, mentions of drug use, mainly fluff, a little angst, might still make you cry. rafe being an absolute simp for you, basically.

rafe wakes up the next morning, faced-down on topper's living room couch with almost no recollection of what happened the night before. except one thing—you'd finally walked away from him.

"not enough to choose me. you give in every time." your words echo in his head, as he opens his eyes.

fuck. what did he do?

"good morning sunshine," kelce comes down the stairs and greets rafe, who looked as if he couldn't move from the couch. "you sleep well?"

"i slept like shit," rafe groans, finally sitting himself up. "what the hell happened last night?"

"you mean other than you getting coked out and royally screwing things over with y/n?" kelce sasses him. "not much bro."

rafe shoots him a glare. "i did not royally screw things over with y/n."

"are you sure about that?" kelce raises a brow at him. "cause i had to drive her home last night crying, bro."

rafe's ear perk up at kelce's confession of you crying over him. you wouldn't have. you were the one who broke up with him.

"she was crying?" rafe asks.

"do you seriously even have to ask?" kelce replies. "i can't even count on two hands how many times you've made her cry the last few months."

no, that couldn't be true. surely he hadn't made you cry that often.

"shut the fuck up kelce," rafe gets up from the couch in complete denial of how shitty he's treated you the last few months and makes his way over to the kitchen.

rafe opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water, while kelce joins him in the kitchen.

"you know it's true," kelce says, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. "you just never see it, because she won't let you."

was he right?

"you know how y/n is, bro," kelce adds, as i take a sip of water. "she'll never let you know you're hurting her, because you fear nothing more than being the cause of her pain and losing her. but she's also not going to beg and cry for you to stay and fight for her."

i did know that. that's what i loved about her. she didn't necessarily play hard to get when i tried asking her out on a date after months of texting, but she didn't give in too easily either. she wanted me to prove i was serious about her before giving me a real chance. she knew her worth.

i recap the bottle i'm drinking from and set it down on the counter beside me, my eyes focused on kelce. "so what should i do?"

kelce holds his hands up. "if you don't know by now, i can't help you."

—

rafe wasn't an idiot. he knew what he had to do.

so, after going home and taking a shower to freshen up and get a change of clothes, he drove to the flower shop in town to get you a bouquet of lavender and baby's breath, then nothing bundt cakes to get your favorite treat—a white chocolate raspberry bundt cake—and finally, your house.

once he parked his truck in front of your house and got out, he went through his usual routine of rounding around to your backyard, where he moved the ladder the gardeners used towards your bedroom window.

he climbed up and knocked, balancing the flowers and bundt cake in one hand.

you were sitting in bed watching after we fell on your laptop with a box of tissues beside you and puffy, red eyes when you hear the knock on your window.

without even thinking about it, you already knew who it was. this was just what he did. and against your better judgment, you got up from your bed, and walked over to pull the curtains open and find rafe outside with a regretful look on his face, a bouquet of flowers and a small box of your favorite treat.

slowly, but surely, you unlock the window and pull it up.

"i'm sorry," he speaks before you can, and you scoff.

"you know, i'm getting real sick of hearing you say that," you reply, turning around to walk away and reposition yourself back on your bed, while he slips in through your window.

"i got you flowers," he offers you a small smile and holds both items out to you. "and your favorite bundt cake. white chocolate raspberry."

your eyes shift from the gifts in his hand to his piercing blue eyes. they were no longer dark like they were last night, but there was a sense of uncertainty in them. like he wasn't sure he could win you back.

"so what? am i suppose to just forgive you? just like that?" you retort.

he lets out a sigh, and takes a seat at the edge of your bed, placing both items down on your bed next to your box of tissues. he finally gets a good look at you—from the messy bun on your head, to the bags under your eyes from barely getting any sleep last night, to your red, puffy eyes—and realizes just how badly he's messed up this time.

"i should've just fucked all those other girls. at least they know how to have fun." he still couldn't believe he said those words to you last night.

"i don't deserve your forgiveness," he admits. "i know that. but i want it, y/n. and i'm willing to work for it."

while those words were music to your ears, you were apprehensive. he apologizes every time. and while things do change for a while, they're never permanent. and a week or two from now, you'd be back in this same situation again. was that really worth it?

"i know i don't deserve any more chances," he continues, his eyes only focused on yours. "but i promise… i promise just give me one more and you won't regret it."

your eyes shift between his. he looked a little… scared? was he really that afraid to lose you?

"i don't know, rafe," you say honestly, shifting a little. "you've hurt me so bad… i don't know if i can take you doing it one more time."

"i'm not going to," he immediately shakes his head and reaches out to take your hands in his, fiddling with your fingers and glancing down at them. "please, baby, please. just let me show you i'm the guy for you. that i can be the guy you need and want me to be."

"how?"

"you'll give me a chance?" he asks, his eyes lighting up at the idea of being given another chance to win you back.

despite your brain screaming at you not to, your heart wins over and you nod. you couldn't help it. every part of you yearned for him. and if he was willing to show you that he really could be the guy you knew he was—the guy you fell in love with—then maybe it would be worth it.

"wear something nice," he says. "i'll come back to pick you up at seven."

—

at exactly seven on the dot, you hear rafe park his car in front of your house, and look out your bedroom window to see him dressed in skinny black slacks and a long sleeve, white button down carrying a bouquet of red roses as he walked towards your driveway and front door.

you can't help the small smile that forms on your face as you hurry to strap your heels on and look at yourself in the mirror one more time, before grabbing your purse off your vanity and heading down the stairs.

"where are you heading off to?" your mom asks when you pass by the living room, all dressed up.

"date with rafe," you reply, walking towards the front door.

your parents had never been rafe's biggest fan—they weren't exactly unaware of how often he's made you cry the last couple of months—but they also knew they couldn't stop you from dating whoever you wanted, so they never fought you on it, and you were grateful for that. it was comforting to know they'd support you no matter what happened.

taking a deep breath, you place your hand on the doorknob, and finally open the door when the bell rings.

rafe's eyes instantly widen at the sight of you, his eyes trailing down your body wrapped in a tight, short, satin red dress. "wow," he gasps. "you- you look…"

your cheeks redden at his loss of words. "you don't clean up too bad yourself, cameron."

he smiles at your use of his last name as a nickname, and holds the red roses in his hand out to you. "these are for you."

"you already got me flowers this morning, you know," you joke, taking the bouquet from him. your mom was gonna be pleased to know rafe was back to filling up all her flower vases.

"i know, but…" he trails off. "you deserve the best."

the blush on your cheeks deepen at his words. "give me a second," you turn to walk back towards the living room, and set the bouquet down on the coffee table in front of your parents. "don't wait up."

they don't even get a word in before you're walking away again to join rafe outside.

"shall we?" you ask, looking up at him through your lashes, as you closed the door behind you.

"just… one more thing," a sly smile comes across his lips, as he reaches into his back pocket to pull out a black blindfold.

you stare at it, your mouth agape. "you're kidding, right?"

he shrugs, "i want it to be a surprise."

you groan, but give in anyway. "fine. but if i trip in these heels because i can't see where i'm going, consider us broken up for good."

he laughs at the threat, even though a part of him was afraid you still wouldn't forgive him after tonight. "you know i won't let that happen. turn around."

you do as he says, and he ties the blindfold around your eyes, before taking your hand in his and leading you down the driveway towards his car parked up on the curb. he opens the door for you, and carefully helps you into the passenger seat, before closing the door and rounding the car to get in the driver's seat.

the second the engine comes on, your romantic taylor swift playlist plays through the car's speakers.

"you didn't," you say. he would always complain when you had aux because she was all you'd ever play.

"i guess she's not too bad," rafe shrugs, chuckling as you began singing along to the lyrics of wildest dreams.

rafe continued driving through the island for another ten or fifteen minutes, before he finally pulled the car to a stop in front of his family's beach house on the edge of figure eight, completely secluded from everything else.

he gets out of the car first, and helps you out, taking your hand in his to lead you through the house and out to the back porch.

"are you ready?" he leans in towards your ear, and goosebumps rise along your skin at his proximity.

you nod, and he reaches his hands up to the back of your head to untie the blindfold.

it takes a little while for your eyes to adjust, but once they do, a feeling of warmness fills your heart at the sight in front of you.

red rose petals were scattered in the sand of the private beach, along with fairy lights, a candlelit table for two set up in the center of it all, as acoustic instrumentals of taylor's best love songs played through the speaker situated on the porch.

"you like it?" he asked.

you turn your head to look at him. "rafe, i… it's perfect."

"that's what i was going for," he shrugs smugly, and nods his head towards the set up. "come on."

you both remove your shoes, before he takes your hand in his again and leads you down the back porch to the table in the middle of the beach.

"i can't believe you did this for me," you say, as he pulls a chair out for you to sit in.

"i'd do anything for you," he smiles, taking the seat across from you once you're seated.

—

after a three course dinner and a bottle of wine, which was all served to the both of you by a waiter that rafe hired from the country club, the night slowly came to an end, an endless amount of stars filling the night sky above you.

but while you were focused on the stars, rafe was focused on you.

"god, you're beautiful," he says, causing you to look at him now.

you chuckle, "shut up."

"no, i'm fucking serious," he replied, standing up from his seat.

you watched him carefully as he walked over to you, and held a hand out.

you glance at his hand and tilt your head up at him, "what are you doing?"

"dance with me," he says.

"you're asking me to dance?" you raise a brow at him.

"mhm," he nods. "you gonna say yes?"

"well how can i say no?" you reply, a small smile forming on your lips as you put your hand in his.

he leads you a few feet away from the table, and rests a firm hand on your waist, as you trail a hand up to his shoulder.

he locks his eyes with yours as you both begin swaying to taylor's timeless, and scans your face.

"what?"

he shakes his head, "i don't deserve you..."

"rafe…"

"but i'm gonna do everything i can to make sure i become the kind of guy who does," he cuts me off. "i want to be better, y/n. not only for you, but for myself too."

you smile, and pull him closer, your hand snaking to the back of his head.

"i'm sorry for being such an ass the last few months," he says, and you close my eyes, taking the moment in as he continues. "i know i haven't deserved all the chances you've given me, but i'm not gonna disappoint you again. i want to be the guy you think i am."

you pull away, just enough to have your eyes lock with his.

"you are that guy, rafe," you tell him, and you mean it. "you just need to let him show more."

he smiles, "you're pretty damn amazing, you know that?"

"so i've been told," you shrug jokingly.

he chuckles. "i love you, y/n."

"i love you too."

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

click here to be added to my tag list!!

#rafe cameron #rafe #rafe obx #rafe outerbanks #obx #outerbanks #outer banks #cute rafe #boyfriend rafe #cute rafe cameron #rafe x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #boyfriend rafe cameron

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chaoticace2005 · 2 months

Text

Reason I, sexiest being ever Angel Dust, wanna get fucked by BE WITH Whiskers: (Complimentary to Husk's reasons for NOT getting involved with Angel post)

He's hot.

~Daddy~ (I don't have daddy issues shut up. Who am I? Charlie??)

Wanna see the kitty ~purr~ and those wings ~flap~

He has hearts. I have hearts. THAT'S SO MANY HEARTS!!!!

Our colors compliment each other!!!

Are cat's dicks really... ya know?

Honestly he probably needs a good lay.

Actually, wait: is he even queer??? YES YES HE IS!

Makes good drinks.

Funny to piss off.

Charity work. That's a redeeming "quality" right?

Fuck this entire list actually. He sucks. And NOT in a sexy way. He'd be LUCKY to fuck me.

Good singer and dancer??

Actually gets what I'm going through and doesn't give me that pitying bullshit?

Badass motherfucker with EXPLOSIVE CARDS?!

Good drinking buddy

HE CAN FLY?!?!

Somehow actually believes in me??

Short king. Short guys are sexy (except you Arackniss, fuck you.)

So fucking soft. He'd deny it though. AND HE PURRS

Doesn't bullshit me or anyone for that matter.

Smiles wouldn't like it.

Husk should know he is loved and supported. (Am I really the best guy for that?? I don't even need to date him to tell him this. I can get it through this thick skull in other ways until someone better comes along.)

Best cuddler ever.

Makes me feel seen and alive.

Being with him is better than any drug.

He takes care of Nuggets!!!!!!

Speaks Italian?!?!?!?!? AND DOESN'T EVEN BUTCHER IT!!!! (and it's VERY hot)

Nice enough to ask for permission before doing anything??

Thinks that asking for permission should be expected?

Takes care of me after a bad session/day and I wanna take care of him.

Doesn't want to have sex with me.

Says "Tony" WAY too well.

I've literally never cared about someone this much before??

One of my favorite people ever and I'm so lucky to have him as a friend. And maybe that should be enough?? What the hell am I doing??

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #angel dust being a gay mess #hazbin hotel crack #stupid hazbin hotel lists #huskerdust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #husker hazbin hotel #angelhusk

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kamiversee · 1 month

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 23 || The Party Era

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, fluff, violence, drugs, & slight mention of alcohol consumption.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.8k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——AFTER THAT INTIMATE morning, you and Gojo consider yourselves to be on decent enough terms. Of course, you still hate him-- or, at least you think you do, and he slowly begins to change in a good way.

When he talks to you, which is more often than before since you're no longer trying to ignore his existence unless necessary, his tone is always soft and filled to the brim with affection. You try not to bring up the fact that he claimed to be in love with you but it was extremely difficult not to think about it.

Blackmail or not, you can't just ignore his confession.

Shoko mentioned that he was in love with you before but you didn't want to believe her so, now that he's told you, you genuinely don't know how to feel.

His words echo in your brain constantly, so much so that it grows annoying. It's like you can't unhear it-- Gojo really said he was in love with you. It wasn't a dream, wasn't something someone else told you he said, and it wasn't a lie, Gojo Satoru confessed his love to you.

You hate it though.

You despise the fact that he loves you. To you, it's almost entitled for him to feel like he has that right. How dare he hold such a strong emotion for you? If he felt this way, why is he forcing you to sleep with people for him? It makes no sense.

Why would someone claim to love you and put you through so much?

If he's been in love with you all this time, why start the list in the first place? Why couldn't he have just tried to win your heart from the beginning? Why the list? Why the blackmail? You don't understand him.

A sigh escapes you as you think about it. By this point in time, it's roughly been two weeks since that faithful morning and you can't stop thinking about it. You have so many questions, wondering to yourself when it'll all make sense.

Then, there's also the longing you feel in your chest to see Choso again.

Of course, you haven't stopped thinking about him. You can't wait for the list to be over. The fact that there are only two people left makes it feel like a lot less pressure on you.

From here on out, you just want everything to go smoothly-- that's all you ask for.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

In the two weeks you spent at peace with Gojo, you and him have talked about who your next target should be; Sukuna or Nanami?

He tried to explain that Sukuna would be easier than Nanami but you quickly told him that you're not sure you trust his difficulty levels when no one you've seduced has been that hard. Well, with the exception of Mr. Fushiguro, seducing him took weeks of you pretending you had some kind of assignment to complete.

But even so, you still managed to pull that off. If anything, you felt a little more confident in yourself about seducing the last two people, thinking it'd be a nice walk in the park from here on out.

With this newfound confidence in yourself, you tried telling Gojo that it didn't matter which order you seduced the last two in. "Almost every difficulty level you've given me so far has been wrong, y'know..." You told him over the phone.

Though you couldn't see it, his lips pulled into a pout, "That's not true, sweets... Suguru was medium, no?"

"No, Satoru, he was easy..." You hum, "The only reason he'd be considered anything close to medium is because I had to get used to his uhm... teasing."

Gojo smiles foolishly at the way you say his name, his heart swelling in his chest over such a simple conversation with you, "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He hums, "Anyway, it's still up to you who you wanna go for first, I was just sayin' Sukuna will be easier."

You sigh, "How so?"

"Well for starters, he's having a party this Thursday so like..." Gojo shrugs sheepishly on the other side of the phone, "If you're free, you could come there with me and meet him."

"Uhuh... And what about Nanami?" You question as you jot things down in your journal, your body comfortably laid out across your bed.

"Hmmmm..." Gojo hums dramatically in thought, "I think there's a bar he goes to every weekend?"

"You think?" Your eyes narrow, "I need you to be sure."

"I'm like ninety-nine point nine percent sure." He says, "He goes on Friday nights so, y'know..."

"Are you suggesting that I formally meet Sukuna and Nanami, then decide who I want to sleep with first?" You ask for clarification.

"Pretty much, yeah."

You look around your room for a second in thought before shrugging, "Alright, sounds like a plan."

Gojo smiles, "Really? So... you do realize this means you'll be going to a party with me, right?"

"Okay?"

Curiosity sparks within him, "Do you even like parties?"

"Eh, I haven't had enough friends to want to go recently. But, I used to go to them a lot during Freshman year." You explain casually, earning a hum from him.

"Aww, and you didn't invite meee?" Gojo whines.

"I didn't know you, Satoru..." You sigh, finding yourself smiling ever so slightly at his silliness, "We literally met this semester."

"Sure about that?" He asks as if you don't recall talking to him for the first time early that August.

"Uhm, yes?" You arch a brow, "What, do you remember us talking before this year or something?"

"Nah." He hums, "But I do remember seeing you around a lot."

You begin to close your journal, "Really?"

"Mhm."

"And you never said hi?" You tease, mocking his earlier joke to you.

Gojo chuckles nervously, "I was too shy."

"Oh please." Your eyes roll, "You? Shy? Yeah right." A scoff leaves your lips in reaction to his claims.

"I'm serious." He emphasizes.

"Whatever..." You decide to brush off the topic. The phone call has lasted long enough so, you try to end it, "Anywho, we have a plan all worked out so text me the details for this party and I'll see you then."

"Aww," Gojo pouts again, "You're hanging up so soon?"

"Yes."

"C'mon, I wanted to talk some more..."

You scoff and your voice is sarcastic as you respond, "Skill issue."

Gojo bursts out laughing, "Seriously?"

"Suck it up pretty boy," You joke further, "We'll talk later."

He smiles from ear to ear, "Oh? You think I'm pretty?"

"Bye Satoru." You say flatly.

He sighs heavily and gives up, "Bye sweetheart." There's then a second of silence as you move the phone away from your ear but his next words make you freeze, "I love you."

Your heart pulses strongly, "...If you're expecting me to say it back, you're going to be disappointed."

He chuckles lightly, "I don't expect you to say it back, jus' want to make sure you don't forget."

You couldn't possibly forget that. "Right, okay, bye." The phone is quickly removed from your ear to end the call and then you toss the device across the bed.

Your heart is beating so rapidly for some reason. You do not feel the same way for him but that doesn't change the fact that hearing those words from someone makes you feel all tingly inside.

After only a second or two of gushing at his words, you return to your usual neutral mindset and pick your journal up. Your body slides off the bed and you walk to the drawer you keep it in, making sure to lock it as you place the item inside. Then, you sigh and head back to your bed.

Flopping down face first, you groan into your pillow-- wondering how the rest of this will play out. It feels weird to be on speaking terms with Gojo again. You can't exactly say you missed it but you also couldn't say you didn't enjoy it, even though the conversation wasn't long.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

With that, the rest of the week leading up to Thursday went by in a blur like always. Your schoolwork hardly ever overwhelmed you since you had that very well organized and for once, life somewhat felt like it was entering an era of peace again.

However, deep down inside you still missed Choso.

Not talking to him daily or hardly ever anymore really made you remember how boring your free time was. Perhaps that's why Thursday came so fast...

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, your hands tracing over the silhouette this expensive dark red dress provided for you-- the item being something Gojo bought for you the very second you told him you weren't sure what to wear.

For someone who so easily deposited money into your account every time you slept with someone and bought you things the very second you made even the slightest complaint, you wondered what the hell he was in debt for.

Perhaps all of the people on the list truly couldn't be paid with money? Even so, you can't help but question what the hell he did to these men to the point where payment in the form of sexual satisfaction was established.

Toji is the only person on the list that you know the backstory for but, even then you still don't know how sexual satisfaction was agreed as a method of payment. And to add to those questions, does Gojo tell the men after you sleep with them that you were his form of payment?

If so... wouldn't that technically mean Choso should know about that?

You groan slightly as you get confused just thinking about it. It's like you're missing so much information here. The entire thing is steadily starting to make less and less sense as you go on. Not to mention the fact that he said he deleted the video of you a long time ago.

Does that mean he considered letting you go from the list? How long has he had the video erased from his phone?

You finally shake out of your thoughts when the man in question sends you a text, the chime from your cell prompting you to turn your head to the idle device on your bathroom counter. You pick it up to see a simple text that reads; 'I'm downstairs, sweetheart'.

You simply leave the man on read before making sure you have everything and heading out of your bathroom. Once you make it out of your bedroom, you spot Shoko typing away on her laptop in the living room.

The sound of you closing your room door makes her turn her head back to look at you. She gives you a wolf whistle and flashes that pretty smile of hers at you, "Heyyy beautiful." She greets teasingly.

You smile, "Hey roomie, how do I look?"

"For a party hosted by Sukuna, I'd say pretty damn good." It's no surprise that she knows who's hosting the party you're going to, Shoko always seems to be up to date with those kinda things.

A chuckle leaves your lips while you make your way to the front door, "Thank you but, I'm surprised you're not coming."

She shrugs, "I have like four assignments due tonight and my professor is a complete bitch about turning things in late." A little frown pulls at her lips, "Any other day, I'd totally go with you though."

"Maybe next time," You suggest, smiling at her, "Oh, and, I know this is a weird question but like, do you know his full name?"

"Who, Sukuna?" Shoko asks, raising a brow.

"Yeah." You nod. The memory of Choso hardly ever speaking about the guy he's supposedly related to runs through your head and you find it odd since he always seems so family-orientated.

"Itadori Sukuna, last time I checked." Shoko informs you, "But if you call him by his last name he'll be a dickhead about it. I think he hates it 'cause that's what connects him to his younger brother or something."

You blink. That somewhat explains a few things, "Damn, you sure know a lot..."

Shoko winks, "Benefits of going to parties to be nosy, you should do it more often."

With a laugh, you nod your head, "Well, thanks for that."

She flashes you one last smile and then raises her hand to wave you bye as you open the door and exit the apartment.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

When you get downstairs and to Gojo's car and quickly seat yourself in the passenger seat, his eyes are all over your appearance like he's starstruck.

A handsome smile spreads across his face, "You're absolutely breathtaking, y'know that?" Gojo complements.

You roll your eyes and begin putting your seatbelt on, "Seeing as you're able to speak perfectly fine, it doesn't sound like I'm all that breath-taking." You fire in response.

He chuckles and his bright blue eyes slip up and down your body, "You didn't hear the way I choked when I saw you walking toward the car."

"Aw, did you?" You respond mockingly.

"Mhm..." He hums lowly, suddenly focusing more on your face. His head is resting on the palm of his hand as he leans against the console in between the two of you.

You swallow and then just barely turn your face to him, "Plan on staring at me all night?"

"If I had the option to, I definitely would," Gojo says honestly.

You roll your eyes at him again and scoff.

"I'm serious." He utters, "If I got a dollar for every time your face has made my brain turn to mush, I'd be a fuckin' trillionaire."

With a sigh, you nod your chin toward the steering wheel in front of him, "Drive your car, Satoru. We don't have all night."

Gojo's eyes soften for a second as he actually loses himself in staring at you, "...You heal me," He suddenly says.

"What?" Your brows furrow and your face twists up while you meet his gaze.

He looks into your eyes for a second longer before turning his head to face forward, "I'm a broken man, sweetheart." Gojo explains as he moves his large veiny hands to the wheel in front of him, "And you... you heal me little by little every day."

You're unsure what to make of his poetic claims. Is this another type of confession? What does he mean he's broken? How do you heal him? What the hell is going on inside that brain of his??

Gojo glances over at you one more time, moving his hand to poke the center of your forehead, "Don't think on it too much, you'll get a headache trying to decipher my nonsense, sweets." He says in a soft tone.

You find it weird he even refers to his own claims as nonsense when it's far from such a thing. The things he starting to say to you are becoming more and more complex, hidden meaning behind his words and secret bittersweet implications slipped in between his claims.

You gently move his finger away from your head and nod, "Whatever... just drive already."

Gojo smiles, "Yes ma'am."

With that, he returns his hand to the wheel and does exactly as you've told him to, quickly driving to the destination of the party.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

There, you could hear lively music blaring from outside this large mansion. The place wasn't too far from where your campus is and you wondered how you went so long without ever being aware of its existence.

As stated before, you used to be quite the partier and most venues have been blessed with your presence. Yet, there you were, getting out of the car with Gojo and heading inside a house you'd surprisingly never been inside before.

Outside of the large estate, you spotted all kinds of people doing all kinds of things. It was expected and all but it had been such a long time since you've seen people having this much fun.

For starters, Choso isn't a partier. Why do you think about that now? Well, you asked him about it but he told you the chances of anyone catching him at a party are zero to none. He much rather be at home engrossed in his artwork.

There's another instance where you're wondering how different of a person Sukuna is in comparison to Choso. Especially when this big ass party is being hosted by him.

Gojo suddenly swings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you close to him while the two of you walk down the main path toward the entrance. The big double doors to the house are wide open, partygoers are scattered absolutely everywhere, and a large chunk of people are spotted inside.

Your gaze shoots over to the man all too close to you, "Satoru..."

"Sweetheart..." He replies.

"Why is your arm around me?" You question flatly.

He chuckles, a big smile painted across his overly handsome face, "I don't want you to get lost."

You blink, glancing away from Gojo and spotting people dancing, laughing, drinking, and even fucking in some places. Scrunching your face up at that last thing you spot, you continue to question Gojo, "What if Sukuna sees us like this?"

"He won't." He hums in response.

"How do you know?"

"Well... around a time like now, that asshole is probably somewhere in the middle of the party," Gojo explains.

The way he refers to Sukuna as an asshole has you worried. Are you going to have to deal with another Naoya?

Swallowing down a large gulp of nerves, you bat your eyelashes at Gojo, "Asshole...?"

He tenses up beside you for some unknown reason, "Uh... I mean, yeah." He shrugs, "Sukuna isn't the nicest guy in the world, everyone knows that."

"I didn't." You respond dryly, then you raise a brow in question, "He's not gonna be like Naoya though... right?"

Gojo looks down at you, finding your worried pout cute, and flashing a comforting smile at you, "No sweetheart, Sukuna's an asshole but..." His expression flickers and his smile fades away. He swallows and then clears his throat, "I'm pretty sure he'll satisfy you just fine."

The two of you finally enter the house and Gojo looks around, greeting some people he knows with a nod of his head while the two of you conversate.

You narrow your eyes at him, "Are you sure?"

Music is heard blaring further on in the party but you two haven't gone deep enough inside to not be able to hear each other yet.

"Fuckin' positive," Gojo suddenly sounds pissed and you grow concerned. The arm around you gets a little tighter while he walks you through some crowds and you keep looking at the man confused.

There's a vein popping out along his jawline because of how hard he's gritting his teeth. You're confused about what pissed him off so suddenly, "What's wrong?"

He avoids looking at you, "Nothing sweets, just know he'll take greeeat care of you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You murmur. The softness of your voice alone helps Gojo to somewhat come back to his senses.

"Sukuna..." Gojo pauses, thinking hard about something before shaking the thought away, "He uh... How do I say this... He'll," The man looks down at you again, "He'll be nice to you."

"...Will he?"

"Yeah, you're cute." Gojo compliments, shrugging all his thoughts off, "He likes cute girls."

"There's plenty of cute girls at this party," You point out, "What makes me so special?"

"Everything."

You scoff, "What-"

"This is about to be your eleventh question since we've been here." Gojo cuts off before giving you a comforting little smile, "Relax, everything will be fine, okay? Trust me."

Your lips purse together as you decide to drop all your questions for now.

Both of you continue walking deeper and deeper into the party, the volume of the music soon engulfing almost all of your senses. People were dancing all over the place, you saw a few drinking games taking place, some people were gathered together smoking, and it was all so lively.

While you walked with Gojo, you couldn't help but notice the way girls gawked at the man beside you, their eyes all over his face, and jealousy noticed in their expressions after they spotted you beside him. What made the whole thing better was the fact that Gojo didn't even glance at them.

The only woman whose eyes he ever looks into is yours. The only person's body he's drooling over is yours. Hell, the only person at this party Gojo even cared about was you.

At some point, he stopped to talk to some people he knew and you just stood quietly by his side. Gojo would give the people he spoke to this murderous glare if they even so much as peeked at you.

You wondered if you imagined the looks he gave some guys up until one was caught staring at your cleavage by Gojo. The man beside you tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, "Fuck are you starin' at?" He spat out.

You were oblivious to what was going on at first until you saw who he was talking to; some weirdo leaning against a wall gawking at woman after woman. When he noticed Gojo was talking to him you watched how he immediately teared his eyes off you.

Gojo then dragged you along, making his way toward a dance floor. You looked up at him, "You look like you're gonna stab someone...." You said playfully, mocking him for the wicked look in his eyes.

He smiles and that look completely disappears, almost as if it were never there, to begin with. Meeting your gaze, Gojo pouts, "Who, me?"

"Yes you, don't try to act all innocent."

He snickers, "Stabing isn't the way I'd go about hurting someone but, alright."

"People stare at me all the time, y'know... You can't keep glaring like that." You say, looking away from him, "Especially when I'm not even your girlfriend or anything."

"So?" Gojo scoffs, "I don't like seeing people look at you like that and I couldn't care less if you aren't my girlfriend," He suddenly leans down to you and his eyes go dark again, "You're by my side, in my arms..." He explains lowly, "And even if it's not reciprocated, you're my love."

You stare, seeing the same look he had in his eyes that day he caught you, the same look he gave you when he said he wanted you. Gulping, you try to respond, "Satoru-,"

"I'm serious. They can look at any other chick in this party, just not you. Especially not when you're with me." Gojo claims.

"That's a bit possessive don't you think?" You point out, halfway joking.

"Oh, trust me," He smiles as if it's no big deal, "I'm aware."

You open your mouth to say something but he suddenly leans up and takes his arm off you, "Anyways, I'm pretty sure you'll find Sukuna somewhere in all that," He instructs, nodding toward the group of people dancing and shouting on the main floor. He starts backing away from you, "Text me if you don't though."

"You're leaving me?" You say dumbfoundedly.

"Well, Sukuna can't spot us together..."

"Right." Your lips purse together and you nod, the two of you finally splitting for the first time that night.

The music is so loud that you can feel the vibrations from the base of your toes as you walk into the crowd. You steadily begin to dance by yourself for a moment and at one point you get a drink to help you loosen up.

You didn't plan to overdo it or anything because the last thing you wanted was to be horny and drunk all over again but, you did get enough to give you a little buzz. The smell of weed was strong throughout the dancefloor and you would've partaken in that too but you definitely don't trust drugs from just anyone.

As your body sways with the music, you end up dancing back into some guy on accident but when you try to move, hands go to your waist and your hips, immediately making you uncomfortable. You tried not to make a scene about this random man touching you, casually trying to dance away from him.

Your body language made it so painfully obvious that you didn't want this guy touching on you and you eventually turned your head back to him, noticing that it was the same person Gojo snapped at earlier.

That realization caused goosebumps to form all over your skin and you tried telling the man to back off you. He definitely heard you but clearly ignored you, going as far as groping your ass and creepily smiling at you.

You grit your teeth and elbow the weirdo back away from you, creating only a bit of distance between you and him since there are so many people around. The creep still misses the hint and tries to come close to you again.

In the blink of your eye, one second he was trying to come to touch you again and the next you saw a fist make contact with his jaw, a crack heard even through the music as his body stumbled to the side and then made contact with the floor.

Your eyes went wide at the sight and some people around you cheered. Was getting punched in the jaw like this some kind of regular occurrence? Why were people cheering and laughing so suddenly?

The guy was out cold on the floor, people dancing around his still body as you stood in shock.

The person who punched the fuck out of him was standing where he once was and you turned around to face the guy.

Your heart probably skipped fourteen beats at the sight in front of you. Towering over your smaller frame, smiling maliciously at the motionless body on the ground, with dark yet attractive tattoos decorating his handsome face, bright pink hair, and harsh maroon eyes, Sukuna stood proudly before you.

You batted your eyes at the man, in complete awe of everything about him. The shirt he wore was sleeveless, revealing even more tattoos that went along his large shoulder, his bicep, and his wrist.

With a snarky laugh, you watch as he then disrespectfully spits on the knocked-out man's body, "Disgusting." Sukuna hummed.

Those sharp and surprisingly scary eyes of his snap over to you, the only person shocked by what just happened. The smile that was once spread across his face drops completely when he looks at you. You can feel every hair on your head stand up as you meet his gaze, your spine goes rigid and you think you start sweating.

Sukuna turns to face you and takes a simple step toward your nervous body, tipping his torso down and toward you so that he can be at eye level with you. You think you stop breathing entirely.

Why the fuck is he so intimidating? Why did he stop smiling? Why does he look like he's about to punch you next? Your heart is pounding against your ribcage and you don't think any man has ever made you this utterly nervous from just a glance before.

His rose-tinted lips part and his voice is so low and deep you could feel your body getting tense, "This is the part where you say thank you."

You blink, "Th-Thanks." You hated yourself for stuttering.

He tutts, "Nono, not 'thanks', thank you, brat." Sukuna corrects.

"Thank you," You say, your voice small.

He smiles at you, the sight making your heart race. A sexy and slightly raspy chuckle leaves the male, "Thaaat's more like it, good girl."

A strong throb of arousal thrums in your core at the sound of his words. It's embarrassing how such a simple phrase has you turned on already.

It was at that very moment you realized that this man was going to be different than the rest. Not Choso level different and not in any romantic sense but, the small conversation and his aura made one thing very clear.

Sukuna was in a league of his own. This man was a damn beast and you were both scared and excited to explore that.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: ???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: ???

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lilacheavenn · 3 months

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lookin dolly, i think i may go out tonight - r.c x f!reader

summary: rafe with his little pink princess !! except she's feeling a bit bratty . aka: rafe gets jealous and has to let you know you're a bratty little slut !!

warnings: SMUT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, hyperfem!reader, "childish" reader ish, possessiveness, mention of alcohol and drugs, semi-public sex, fingering, head (f!recieving), hickies, mention of gun (never seen or used), daddy kink

word count: 1489

a/n: hi guys !!! tysm for all the support on my first writing <33 i hope u guys love this one too !! also, requests are open so feel free to send in some for blurbs !

"can you please hurry up . don't know how hard it is for you to fuckin' pick a dress and move ." rafe griped .

you'd been facetiming all your friends to ask for suggestions (and reject them all), and rafe was fed up . he'd known tonight would be a good night for business at topper's party, but thanks to you, he's losing potential customers .

" 's not that simple, rafey ! can't pick between these two . jus need to decide my skirt n then i'll be set, okay ? " you pouted and leaned to kiss his lips with glossy pink lips .

rafe's face curled in disgust at the sticky gloss, but he made no effort to wipe it off .

"what's even the fuckin' difference . same shit . " he grumbled, laying back down on your pink bed adorned with stuffed animals .

"yr' such a man, rafey . obviously, this one is more reddish pink 'n this is more purply pink ! " you rolled your eyes and stared again at the skirts . " hmm , think i'll wear that new white one instead, s that good, baby ? " you asked again .

" yea, yea that's good, babe . can we get goin' now ? " he replied hurriedly .

" kay, thank you ! " you quickly pulled on the skirt, sensing rafe's rush . " m ready ! can you please carry my purse to the car , rafey ? gotta reapply my lipstick since you stole so much of it ! " you giggled at the pink stain that had yet to leave rafe's lips still .

rafe grumbled but still grabbed your little white purse . definitely not for you, definitely because he just needed to get to the party quickly . he pushed your ass into his truck and buckled your seatbelt as you sprayed your perfume once more .

the drive wasn't long, but it gave you just enough time to finish talking about all the new drama in your social circle to rafe . who fucked who's boyfriend, who got sent to rehab, who's parents are getting a divorce . rafe just nodded his head , replying with " ohh "s or " wow no way "s when necessary, and you ate it up .

when you both finally reached kelce's house, rafe opened your door for you and helped you down with your cute sandal heels . you both walked in and parted ways almost immediately . rafe reminded you about not taking drinks from strangers and sticking with your friends, and you just rolled your eyes having heard this spiel over a hundred times . rafe headed to an isolated balcony to start selling his baggies of coke . you, of course, headed to the dance floor to see your friends !

after two hours of dancing and taking shots with your friends , your head was hazy and your body felt loose . so you didn't pay any mind when your friends started drifting further away and you were left dancing near a stranger who's eyes kept flitting down to the deep cut of your top . but rafe did . rafe's eyebrows pinched together when he made his way downstairs from the balcony to grab a drink . his night had been great; he'd been selling to customers back to back, and no one had started shit with him .

rafe fully descended the stairs, pushing his way through the crowd on the makeshift dance floor to reach you and the stranger who's eyes had now moved to the curve of your ass .

" you like the view , you fuckin' bitch ? " you heard a familiar voice curse out behind you .

you turned, halting your dancing, but smiled widely when you saw rafe . your mind was so hazy, nothing said to the stranger was getting through . all you could understand was how hot rafe looked mad .

" rafe ! come on, let's dance ! " you slurred out .

" woah man, i didn't know she was taken . no need to get mad . " the other guy said while holding his hands up and back away from the situation .

" yea you better fuckin' walk away 'fore i shoot you bitch . " rafe snarled out at the stranger shaking his head and scoffing, and quickly leaving you view .

" rafe ! what the heck ! why're you bein' so rude to strangers ? " you asked, tugging on his polo . " 'n don't be talkin' bout your gun in public . " you whispered the last part .

" maybe i won't if you stop shakin' your ass in tiny skirts 'round everybody like a damn whore . " he scoffed as he dragged you by your upper arm .

he led you confidently through the house, passing guest rooms occupied by people just like the two of you .

" c'mon rafey ! you know i never meant to ! hey, where're you takin' me ! " you screeched out while pouting and smacking rafe's strong bicep .

" takin' you to learn your damn lesson is where . " he pushed you gently by the center of your back into an empty little bathroom .

rafe slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it as he trapped your hips in between his and the sink counter . his eyes bored into yours through the mirror, and you could immediately sense his displeasure, even when you were drunk .

keeping his eyes locked on yours, he slowly bunched your skirt on your hips, grazing your ass underneath . your eye cotact broke when he peered down to see your thin, white cotton panties soaked through with your arousal .

" oh you've been leakin' all night, haven't you honey ? " he asked with faux empathy .

you just nodded your head , not realizing he couldn't see you , and relished in the attention he was giving your ass . rafe pinched the side of your thigh to remind you to use your words .

" mhm, yes rafey, been needin' you all night . " you replied with a twinge of whine in your voice .

rafe roughly pulled down your little thong, shoving it into his pocket after you stepped out of them .

" my poor girl, had to go show herself off to other men cause daddy was busy, huh ? " his cooed as his fingers began collecting your wetness with one hand, the other holding onto your thigh .

" please, please daddy, no more teasing . been needin' it all night, please . " you whined out, not having his antics anymore .

" don't fuckin care . you should've known it was comin, doll . wearin little things for other men like some kind of slut, aren't you ? " rafe cooes out as he slides one finger into your cunt slowly .

your legs almost buckle, but rafe's arm around your waist keeps you held up . he moves his finger in and out of your cunt, quickening his pace once you've adjusted . rafe adds his long ring finger along with his ring finger, stretching your walls further .

" daddy ! so good, so good daddy . " you moan loudly, scrunching your eyes closed .

" i know baby, daddy's so good to you . i'm always so good to you, workin hard 'n buyin you good shit . makin' you feel like a goddamn princess, yea baby ? " rafe's eyes were locked in on your pussy holding onto his two fingers .

he was in his own world, rambling on about how good he is to you and what a hardworker he is all while being mesmerized by how your pussy kept a tight hold on him .

" rafe, daddy, please . please more ! 'm so close , almost there daddy, please ! " you whined out as you felt your climax coming closer .

" c'mon baby, be good and cum all over my fingers, you got it " rafe encouraged you with his words and two thick fingers .

" cumming ! cumming , daddy ! " you squealed out as your orgasm washed over you .

your legs shook uncontrollably as rafe's fingers worked you through your orgasm , slowly pumping into your cut until they finally pulled out completly .

" good girl , such a good girl creamin' all over my cock , yea ? " rafe said as he ran his big hands up and down your hips and legs to soothe you .

" r-rafe... " your moaned out blissfully .

" shhh , i know angel "

rafe stood from his position , locking eyes with you in the mirror then pushing his head into your neck and hair to kiss you . he kept one hand on your waist and the other on the nape of your neck to hold you into place .

" y' did good , babe . always so good for me . " he reassured you . "just don't be pullin' no more stunts like that anymore , aight ? "

#rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe smut

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

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savior complex - joel miller x f!reader

masterlist | song inspo | gif: @joelmjller

All the skeletons that you hide Show me yours, I'll show you mine

summary: Joel shows up at your doorstep, battered and bruised. Despite the bad blood between you, do you have the heart to turn him away? Enemies to lovers. Takes place pre-television series/game. Was written as a companion piece/prequel to my other joel fic, but can be read on it's own. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, dirty talk, implied age gap. Enemies to lovers. Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, implied death of a family member, canon-typical suffering! Descriptions of injuries, blood, stitches (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: I haven't seen the enemies to lovers trope written for joel yet, and I'm also obsessed with the trope of a character showing up at their enemies house because they don't have any place to go. So maybe this is a little self-indulgent. Special shoutout to @ay0nha for letting me talk to you about this fic! Please enjoy, I'm really proud of/excited about this one. ♥

“What do you want?”

The ice in your own voice comes as a surprise. You weren’t sure you were even capable of sounding so cold, but it’s probably a good skill to have nowadays. Plus, he’s probably the last person you expect to see, and certainly the last person you want to see standing in your doorway.

“I need your help,” he says.

You snort, lips pressing together in a bitter smile. “Uh-huh.”

It’s so dark in the hallway, you can barely see his face, but you can imagine what Joel might look like, lines etched in his face from the permanent frown he’s always wearing, particularly when dealing with you. You’ve known him a handful of years, here and there, and you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen him smile….or laugh…or display any emotion other than irritation, or indifference.

The breeze from your open window shifts your curtains to the side, lets a sliver of light from the full moon pan over him, and you can see him clearly, just for a second.

He’s covered in blood.

It’s hard to see exactly how much, but it’s all over his face, his shirt, and accompanied by dirt and grime. One of his hands hangs limp at his side, his opposite clenched into a tight fist. The breeze dies down, the curtain falls back into place, and he’s cast once more in shadow.

Crossing your arms, you lean against the doorframe. Anyone else, you’d help without question. At one point, you would’ve let him in willingly. But it had been months since you’d last spoken, and you had no intentions of ever seeing him again.

“Why should I help you?”

He lowers his eyes, looks at the floor. When he answers, his voice is strained.

“Because I have nowhere else to go.”

The more your eyes adjust in the dim light, the more you can see. Tattered clothes, rain dripping from the tips of his salt-and-pepper curls, his eyes dull. You wonder if he’s trying to make himself look like a kicked puppy, petulant and pathetic, but it doesn’t really seem like something Joel would do.

“Please?”

He’s in pain, you can read it on his face, and you wonder if it’s because of his injuries, or because of how horrible it must be for him to beg you for help. Historically, it’s always been you in his place, needing something – and if it didn’t serve his interests, he’d leave you in the dust. Joel never made exceptions, no matter the circumstances, despite how long you’d known one another. With that to consider, you have every right to turn him away. You should feel satisfied, seeing him so desperate. You wished you could feel satisfied, but you didn’t.

“Fine.” You let him in. What is it about him that always makes you cave?

Pulling a chair away from your small kitchen table, he staggers behind you, favoring his right foot, bracing himself on any surface he walks past – the doorframe, the countertop, the table, until he finally lowers himself into the chair.

You cross the room. It takes most of your bodyweight to shift the couch in the corner of the room away from the vent behind it, and you kneel down. Air conditioning and heat are a thing of the past, but it’s got other purposes now. Using a blade of the knife you always keep handy, you’rable to pry the metal grate away from the wall, to pull out a tin tackle box that you haven’t had to touch in awhile.

Joel’s still at the table when you return to him, breathing labored, and you flick on the lights. He blinks, his eyes are on you, you can feel the way his body is pinched with nervous energy – like a starving feral cat that’s been trapped in a cage, and still can’t decide if it trusts you yet. As if you’d ever done anything to hurt him. If anything, you should be scared.

“Alright,” you say. “Let me take a look at you.”

His eyes have shifted away from your face, but, too proud to cast them down, he’s glaring at some fixed point behind you, glazing over. He doesn’t want to register what is actually going on. It doesn’t stop you from the task at hand, and you begin to take inventory of his injuries.

“So what happened?” you ask. He’s got a black eye forming, several small cuts all over his face, one of which is slicing through his bottom lip, causing it to swell.

“It’s none of your business,” he quips.

“It’s precisely my business, if you want me to be able to actually help you.”

“A deal went wrong,” he said. “I was in someone else’s territory. They said rather than turning me into FEDRA, they’d let me off easy.”

“This is being let off easy?” you ask, then cluck your tongue.

Joel doesn’t answer.

“And that?” you eye the bump forming on his opposite temple.

“It’s nothing,” he says, even though, when you graze a thumb over it, he swallows hard.

“You’re gonna need to be more specific.”

“Got uh, shoved into a brick wall.”

You slide two fingers underneath his chin, using light pressure to tilt his face towards you. “Look at me.” When you’re staring at him like this, studying him closely, you’re forced to acknowledge how handsome he is. Even battered and bruised, it’s the dark, sad eyes, sharp jawline, long lashes that draw you in. He’s hardened by the world he’s been surviving in for twenty years, like everyone is, but he wears it well. You’d never tell him that.

“Any blurry vision, dizziness?” You aim your flashlight in his eyes, and his pupils constrict.

“No,” he says. You study him a moment more, and know what to look for. But you don’t find anything of concern.

“Well, I don’t think you have a concussion,” you say. “But I’ll keep an eye on it…..What else happened?”

“Got me with a knife.” That is what you’ve been the most concerned with since he’s stepped inside. There’s a dark stain blooming on his shirt, just below his left ribcage

“I see,” you say, stepping back. “Take your shirt off.” You open the tin that you left on the table.

It’s full of medical supplies, ones you’d pocketed from the QZ hospital the last few years working there. It’s not easy to sneak them out, nor is it entirely ethical, but you’ve gotten pretty good at it, and now have a decent sized stash built up in case of any emergencies. You’re still deciding if Joel Miller’s well-being is worth the waste of supplies it’s going to be.

When you turn back to him, he has unbuttoned his shirt, but is struggling to shrug it off his right shoulder, where his arm hangs limp at his side.

“I….” he manages….”I can’t move my arm.”

“Sit up,” you instruct, and he does, which gives you room to slide the rest of his shirt off his shoulder. You immediately notice the obvious deformity. “Looks dislocated.”

He nods, looking at the floor. “I was trying to defend myself.”

The idea of him, outnumbered and outmaneuvered, a position he’s so rarely in, is unpleasant. He might be an asshole, but because of it, he always comes out on top. There’s something almost comforting about that kind of consistency these days, and it’s tough to stomach the idea that he doesn’t have superpowers, he’s just another person. You’re not sure why you still hold him in such high regard.

You can’t dwell on it. Especially because what’s more pressing is the cut below his ribs, a few inches in length. It’s still bleeding, but not severely. It’s not a stab wound either, even though it’s deeper than you’d expected, but there’s no internal organ damage.

You take a clean cloth and place it over the wound, guiding his left hand overtop it. “You’ll need stitches.” You slide your hand from underneath his, ignoring the warm weight of his touch. “But we need to stop the bleeding. Apply pressure.” He does, and winces.

“You don’t have anything for the pain?” you ask, raising your eyebrow.

“Front pocket of my shirt,” he says. You fish out a pill. Oxys. You’re not sure how strong they are, and you don’t want to encourage the habit, but this might be a case where he actually needs one.

There’s a glass of water already sitting on the table, and you grab it, standing over him. Neither of his arms are free to accept the offering.

“Open up.”

He glowers at you like a defiant child.

“Are you serious?” you tilt your head. “Come on.”

Reluctantly, he opens his mouth, and you tilt your hand to drop the pill in and lift the glass of water to his lips.

When you’re done with that, it’s time to work on his shoulder. You had done this a few times before, even once to your mother, who had also been a doctor. Med schools didn’t exist anymore, but you didn’t need a degree now to provide care, at least not in this QZ…just experience. And your mother had taught you everything she knew. Before your part of town fell to the virus, she’d even had you reading her old textbooks. So you felt like you were only missing the degree.

You pull up a chair to face him, so close it’s touching the corner of his own, and sit, carefully taking his injured arm and bending it upwards with one of your thumbs in the crease of his elbow, your opposite hand wrapped around his wrist until his forearm is resting against your chest.

It’s way more intimate than you want it to be, but you don’t have much of a choice. His jaw is set so hard you think he might crack a tooth. “So sometimes, if you relax your muscles enough, you can actually get the shoulder back into place that way.”

You release his wrist and reach out to knead the muscles around the problem area - his chest, his shoulder, in between his shoulder blades. He tilts his head back in the chair, his face pinched.

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “Just don’t hold your breath, that makes it worse.”

Joel hates this, you can tell. How often does he have to rely on someone so much to help him, that he lets them touch you like you are, lets them see him vulnerable?

As much as you can, you avoid eye contact, looking down. You didn’t need to see him shirtless before to know that he’s muscular – not perfectly cut, but that isn’t really your thing, anyways. He looks good enough that your eyes are being drawn to places they shouldn’t be, down his torso to the v-lines dipping into the waistband of his jeans. He clears his throat, and you turn to find him watching you. You hope he can’t feel the way your heart is hammering against the back of his hand.

It’s been a few minutes that you’re trying to get him to relax, but he can’t seem to. You should’ve known that this method wasn’t going to work for him of all people.

“Okay, I’m just going to try to move your arm a bit, see if that’ll work instead.”

He nods.

“Just keep breathing,” you instruct. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.” you slowly guide his elbow forward, still keeping traction.

He hisses. “Relax,” you soothe. It’s hard, despite the bad blood between you, to resist the urge to be warm, gentle. To reassure. It’s in your nature, it’s part of your job.

Eventually, and with a little patience, you’re able to get the joint to move back into place, and you check to be sure Joel is able to move it on his own. He can, even though it’s sore. You fashion him a sling made out of an ace bandage.

“You’re probably gonna be a little sore for a while, so take it easy.” It’s probably a useless instruction to give because you know he won’t take it easy.

He has a sprained ankle, and you wrap it up, elevate it. There’s a near-perfect footprint left behind in dirt on the skin there. Like someone had stomped on his leg hoping to break it. You’re glad they failed.

Next is the stitches. There’s a few cuts on his body that need one or two, but you start with the big one. The wound has stopped bleeding, so you disinfect it, pull out your tools, and begin working, bent over him. Every time the needle pierces his skin, he tenses. You wonder if the one oxy was enough, or if it hardly touched the pain because he’s using them so often.

The entire time you’re treating him, you’re trying to be as clinical as possible. You’ve got to focus because if you think too much about him, you think about the last interaction you shared, and how pathetic you’d been. And the fact that he’d thought to come to you of all people for this makes your head spin. It’s not supposed to. You aren’t supposed to feel these things for him. You aren’t supposed to owe him anything.

Joel’s fist curls so tightly into itself that his knuckles turn white, fingernails leaving crescents in the skin of his palms. “Kind of feels like you’re making this as painful as possible.”

You smirk slightly. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

He sniffs, and you glance up to see him looking down at you, the ice that had been in his gaze before has thawed.

You squint at him, try to act indifferent, and turn your attention back to the stitches. “Don’t worry, I’m almost done.”

“Thank fucking-”

“Shhh, you’re distracting me.”

His hand relaxes slightly as you keep working, slow and methodical, silence casting like a spell.

“Why me?” you ask, finally.

“What?”

“Why did you come here? To me?” you pause. “It’s been forever. You’ve got Tess, right? Couldn’t she help you?”

Joel rubs his aching shoulder. “I didn’t want to scare her,” he answers. “And…I know you’re used to handling this kind of thing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say. “I am.”

One of you should probably acknowledge what had happened. But it won’t be me, you think.

“There,” you tie off the last stitch, and cover the wound with some gauze and a waterproof bandage. “You’ll probably need antibiotics. I’ll try to snag some from the hospital tomorrow.”

Once you’ve fixed the most pressing issues, you focus on cleaning all the cuts and bruises on his face, his torso, cleaning and wrapping his bloodied knuckles. It’s probably been at least two hours since he arrived when you finally draw away from him, your surgical gloves snapping as you pull them inside-out, and off your hands, discarding them on the table, which is now littered with bloodied gauze, bandage wrappers, and medical supplies. You wish you had more ice packs than just the one for his shoulder and ankle, since he could use them just about everywhere, but it’ll have to do.

“Could use a drink after all that,” Joel says, looking at his hands, flexing his fingers.

“Don’t push it,” you answer, scraping the mess off your kitchen table into a bin. It dawns on you that you do have a half-empty bottle of bourbon sitting in your cabinet that’s surprisingly good. “But now that you mention it….”

He snorts, the closest thing to a laugh you’ve ever heard.

You pour a few fingers of whiskey into two glasses, sliding one across the table to him. Neither of you clink glasses, but you do eye each other over the rims of your cups as you take the drink in one go.

Joel places his empty on the table. “I should get out of here.”

“In your shape, it might be better to wait for light.” As much as he won’t admit it, you know he’s still weak, not in his right mind, and vulnerable to any FEDRA agents working the streets. “But I have to sleep, I’ve got work in the morning.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t fight you.

You curl yourself up on the couch, that is old and worn but still surprisingly comfortable. Joel sits at the table awhile more, and has one more drink. After all the activity of the night, you’re out within minutes.

Joel drags himself over to the bed, which you’d never offered him directly, but he assumed to take since you were on the couch. He doesn’t think he’ll sleep, but he can’t sit upright in your uncomfortable kitchen chair anymore. Every part of his body aches. Your bed is in the corner, neatly made, even though it’s just threadbare sheets and a blanket. His never is, and he finds it ridiculous you must waste the time at the beginning of your day for something like that.

He sprawls across it, surprised at its comfort. A breeze coming through the open window drifts your curtains to the side, and he catches a glimpse of the full moon. Between the liquor, and the pills, the pain has subsided enough that he’s able to relax a little. The sun will be up soon. He just has to wait…

— — — — — —

The next thing Joel hears is your voice, muffled by the buffer of your front door. He looks at the clock next to your bed, it’s early in the evening. The sunlight trickling through the gaps of your curtains is golden, a slanting orange glow in the corner of the room. The window is closed. Fuck. Did he really sleep all day? He uses his good arm to shield his eyes from the offending light before stretching.

Sheets on top of him rustle, he must have climbed under them at some point the night before.

It feels like he’s been hit by a freight train, and he groans. Pain drips through him, settles in his shoulder, his side, his head. His mouth is dry, and he sees a full glass of water next to him, two white pills. He couldn’t remember you leaving that morning, but it had to have been you who left them there. Who else would it have been? Without thinking, he indulges.

There’s a note scrawled on a scrap of paper underneath the pills. He picks it up with his free arm, the other one still wrapped in a sling.

– Take pain meds

– Ice shoulder, eye, temple, ankle

– Change dressing

– LEAVE

The last word is underlined twice. He exhales, letting his head drop back against the pillows, until it snaps to attention….you’re still outside, but your voice has gotten louder, more animated. You’re talking to someone….no…..you’re raising your voice at someone. He can’t make it out through the door, and for all the bad things he could say based on the nature of your relationship, he knows that you don’t often lose your temper.

‘I think you should leave,’ he catches the end of what you’re saying and is immediately jolted out of the fog of discomfort, leaving your note on the bedside table.

He’s crosses the room, ignoring the protest of pain from his ankle, hears a man’s voice respond, but just a snippet – ‘stupid fucking bitch’ – and he’s throwing open the door, nearly trampling you, since you’re pressed against the threshold with your arms around your backpack, eyes wide.

When Joel follows your gaze, he spots a man about your age standing a few feet away, chest puffed out and chin up.

“Joel,” you say, and he’s taken aback by your tone – relief. He’s never heard you say his name like that. Somewhere, in a small part of his brain he doesn’t want to acknowledge, he thinks he might like to hear you say it again.

“You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend,” the guy tilts his head back to look up at Joel, giving him a once over, and steps backward in consideration.

Instead of correcting him, you say nothing.

“What’s going on here?” Joel asks, and you lower your arms, move your shoulders back, standing up straighter as you turn to look at him.

“Ben was just leaving,” you say.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Joel answers. His hand instinctively comes to rest on your shoulder – reverent, protective. He knows he’s in no shape to get into a fight right now, but he’s significantly larger than the other man, and figures that alone will be enough of a deterrent.

Ben notices, and nose curls into a snarl, rolling his eyes. “Fine, whatever. He’s like…old enough to be your dad,” he mumbles under his breath.

You don’t answer, just stare with contempt as he retreats down the hallway. Once Ben has turned the corner, you step into your place, Joel’s hand falling from your shoulder.

“Who was that?”

“Just some guy from work,” you say, sounding uninterested, dropping your backpack onto your kitchen table.

“How often does he–?”

“Let’s not get into it,” you shake your head as you pull open the curtains, sunlight casting warmth all over the room, specks of dust glittering in the air. But he wants to know more. He’s tried to ignore all the suffering that isn’t his own since the world went to shit, but he’s at least aware of how dangerous it is to be a woman, living on her own.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here, did you sleep all day?”

Joel doesn’t answer.

“You probably needed it.”

You disappear into the bathroom, and Joel sees a rush of light through that door, the creak of a window opening. “I brought the antibiotics, they’re in my bag,” you say when you exit, hands on your hips. “You’re not feeling feverish, are you?”

Joel shakes his head no, and sits back down on the bed.

“Well that’s good,” you go to the counter. “Hey, if you need to shower here, it’s probably better because I can dress your wound before you go. I was actually thinking today about how you would definitely fuck it up if you tried to do it youself.”

He rolls his eyes at the insult, but answers. “That’s fine.”

You’re making yourself something to eat. He notices a polaroid on your bedside table. It’s two kids – a girl and a younger boy, her arms around him – their lips curled into identical smiles. When he looks closer, he realizes the girl is you.

Please? My brother is sick, he’s in a lot of pain, you had said, on your knees in front of him, swallowing hard. Your fingers were curled in his belt loops, the cold steel button of his jeans pressed into your chin, so close he thought it might leave a permanent mark. In one of your hands was a wad of credits, only a couple short of what he’d asked you for in exchange for the pills. I’ll do anything you want me to.

Of course he wanted you, how could he not? He wondered if you knew that already, and were just trying to take advantage of his weakness. Or maybe you were just that desperate. It didn’t matter either way. He can’t do it. Not like this, he thought.

No, is his answer.

He stepped backwards, away and you still tried to cling to him. Sensing his reluctance, you continued to talk. Joel, whatever you want. I’ll do whatever, please…it’s nothing. Eventually, he slipped from your grasp, and you fell back to your heels. He left you there, and he didn’t look back.

The memory is burned into his brain, and has followed him to sleep more times than he’d be willing to admit. He swallows hard, and you’re standing in front of him with an opened jar of applesauce and a spoon against your lips. “Are you looking through my shit?” you ask.

“It was sitting out.”

You snatch the photo from his hand so quickly that one of your nails knicks his thumb, shoving it in your back pocket and jerking your head towards the bathroom. “Hurry, I can’t be up late like last night.”

The shower feels nice, even if the pressure is shit and the water is cold. He still has blood caked under his fingernails that he can’t seem to fully eradicate even after scrubbing them against his palms. He slips back into his jeans when he’s done, and he notices a clean shirt has been left on the bed when he exits.

“You done?” your voice calls. There’s the sound of a book snapping shut, your weight shifting on the couch. “I want my bed back.”

Joel grunts an affirmation, and you round the corner with the tin of medical supplies from the night before, discarding what you were reading on the foot of the bed. “This’ll take two minutes. Let me see.” Pausing in front of him, you press your fingers, a little experimentally, along his ribs, peering closer to examine your work. “Oh, this looks good. It should heal nicely.”

“It doesn’t feel good.”

“Uh-huh, but it’ll get better. Give it time.”

He sits down while you shimmy out of your flannel shirt. You begin to work, quietly, quickly, and at first, he tries to look away, at the top of the bedside table where you’ve placed a bag of antibiotics and a fresh glass of water. The note that was there earlier, with instructions on how to take care of himself in your absence, that also told him to LEAVE, is gone. He gives in and turns back to you, knelt between his legs like it’s nothing, pressing an adhesive bandage across the wound.

He’s not sure why he had expected you to be cruel. You should be cruel, he knows that, but you aren’t. Your touch is confident, firm, and surprisingly tender. It must be muscle memory, he thinks, because he’s never known you to be sweet. Maybe he hadn’t been paying close enough attention.

“There,” you say, pulling away. “Now, I’d recommend changing that once a day at least, if you can. Take an antibiotic once a day, and make sure you do the full course. Ice your elbow, eye, ankle, all that every couple hours. Also, you should really use a sling for at least a month-”

“No.” He knows he won’t do any of those things, can’t really afford to between work, life, and resources.

“Suit yourself.”

“I will.”

You don’t scoff or roll your eyes at him or try to convince him why he should, and it’s like a peace offering. I could fight you on this, because I’m smart, but I won’t. It’s everything you’re saying, but you’re silent, and you sit on the edge of your bed a foot or two away, poking your fingers into the laces of your boots, untying them.

“I’m sorry.”

Joel says it before he can stop himself. He can’t remember the last time he’s said those two words.

You balk at him. “For what?”

Everything. “Your brother.”

“Oh,” you say, focusing back on your feet, pulling them out of your boots and pressing your thumbs into each arch. You shrug, shake your head. “Yeah, well….I’m just glad he’s not in pain anymore.”

“Yeah.”

“...And at least it wasn’t….you know…” The infection.

He nods, takes a beat.

“I should get going,” Joel says, his hands on his knees. “The next time you need something-”

“Uh-huh,” you cut him off tersely. “Right.”

“All I’m saying is that I owe you one.”

“You really think I believe that, coming from you?” You snort, shake your head, and reach to pat his leg in a patronizing way, until his hand lands atop your own. He thinks it might make him feel better, to see if your reaction to his touch gives anything away. But it doesn’t. Everything about you is rigid, cool.

“I’m sorry….about that night,” he decides, purposely changing the subject. “But I don’t make exceptions.”

“Right. Then, I guess I’m a fool for doing this,” you gesture towards him, with your free hand - all the work you’d done.

Joel shakes his head no, fingers tightening around your hand, clasping it hard. He’s sure, or at least he hopes, somehow, you can see it. That this isn’t a jab, that he means it.

I’m sorry.

You look down at where his hand is squeezing yours, and he watches your throat work once.

“No,” he begins. “You just have every reason to hate me.”

A wistful smile crosses your face, but it’s hard to decipher what it means. To him, you’re still unreadable, even staring right at him. Most people avoid Joel’s eyes at all costs, but not you. You slide your hand out from underneath his, and he thinks for a second you’re going to retaliate. His body is facing yours, his hair is still damp, dripping onto his bare skin. It doesn’t stop you from placing your hands on either one of his shoulders, and learning forward.

The white tank top you’re wearing clings to every curve of your body, except where it’s shifted off your shoulder, revealing a black bra strap. It’s intoxicating to have you this close. You must be able to hear the way his heart picks up, thuds heavy against his ribs, being so close to him.

“You think I hate you…” you say quietly, voice a low murmur, tilting your head, studying him. “That’s why you want me, isn’t it?”

This is why he’s never liked you. That uncanny ability to stare right through him, crack open the camera, spool out the film.

“Isn’t it?” you prompt, when all he can offer is silence.

Of course it is. It is always easier when hate is involved. Hate bolds the blurry lines, boils everything down to its simplest point – that’s all that this would be, just two people trying to escape, if only for a little bit. And you, he’s sure, would make it so easy.

“Yes,” he answers, though he’s not sure if he believes it. In this case, hate is just another medium to channel energy through. Passionate energy. True hate, maybe, would be your indifference. And neither of you are indifferent.

“Well….” you lean forward, your lips are nearly touching. He’s still frozen. “Maybe I do hate you.”

It’s a beat before anything happens, a few seconds of uninterrupted eye contact, your eyes have darkened, pupils wide.

He pounces on you, ignoring the scream of soreness through his body as he cups both sides of your face, his tongue already scraping on your teeth, swallowing the surprised noise you make, which he finds ridiculous because what did you think was going to happen, talking to him like that?

But you can’t be that shocked, because your arms have tightened around his shoulders, you’re pulling him closer, he’s pulling you closer. A tightrope, about to snap.

He wraps himself around you protectively, you feel so small there, he’s aware how easily he could break you, but he won’t. Or at least…he’ll try not to.

You break away first. “Fuck.”

Your lips are full, wet, flush, parted, and you’re panting. He pulls you back against him, and you oblige, much more pliant this time, letting him claim you. Two sets of hands fumbling for purchase.

“I do want you.”

“Then have me.”

He pulls you onto his lap, still sitting on the edge of the bed, and it’s shameful how easily you move there, settle your weight across his hips. You’re warm, so warm…too warm. His skin pricks.

Your hands thread into his hair and tug, it’s heavenly. He’s not used to being touched like this.. Grinding down, you find him already already rock hard – he has been since you were knelt in front of him cleaning his stitches, but he’d been trying to ignore it – and he moans. “You like that?”

He hums into your mouth, agreeable. Yes.

Joel wants to touch you, won’t be satisfied if he can’t, and he tugs at the hem of your shirt. You pull back, just for a split second to pull it over your head. It takes him a moment, but he still remembers how to unclasp a bra with one hand, and you’re bare before him. All he has to do is run a calloused palm up your spine and you’re arching your body closer, until he can mouth at your breasts.

You sigh as he cups, squeezes, pinches. Latches onto one of your nipples and grazes his teeth over it, watching you closely….your eyes closed, head falling back, murmuring. Yes.

What he wants to do is to lift you up, spin you around, and press your back against the mattress. He wants to spread you open across the bed, put his head between your thighs and lave at you like a man starved. He wants to hear every way you can cry, moan, whimper his name as his tongue works your clit, fingers in your cunt, washing over him. Of course, he’d go gentle at first – not too gentle – but gentle enough, work you up. He wants to dangle you over the ledge, hold you there until you’re begging to be let go. And after you finally come, pulsing around his fingers, he’d wrap your legs around his hips and fuck you into the mattress until you do it again. After the first time, he thinks, it’d be even easier to get you to do it again. And again. Would you face his steely gaze head on, eyes fluttering? Would your nails scrape track marks down his back? Would you stifle a moan by sinking your teeth into the pulse point on his neck? He wants to- no, needs to know.

But he’s weak right now, and can’t do any of that. He’ll settle for what he can get.

Your fingers are twisting the button on his pants. “Come on,” you murmur.

“You shouldn’t want me,” he warns.

“I know.” But I still do.

Your hand is down his pants, and he shifts his weight backwards to wiggle further out of them. It’s far more hurried than either of you deserve. You don’t even attempt to tease him through his boxers first, your hand wrapping around him in one swift and confident movement.

Hissing, Joel sees you duck your head, feels the press your lips against his neck, his cock jumping in your grip as you run your thumb over the head, pump him once.

“You’re so big,” your voice is all breathy and soft, the sound of it has him growing even more frantic. He tugs at the loops on the side of your jeans.

“Take these off.”

Yes. There’s no protest.

It’s torture when you leave his lap, for the brief time you do, his gaze tracing the curve of your ass as you wriggle out of your pants, then your panties, and when your return to him, he holds you closer.

“I knew you’d be so fucking good for me.”

“Did you?” It's playful, breathless, your arms around his neck. The lightest he’s ever heard you.

You’re wet, already dripping onto him, and he dips a finger between your thighs, sliding it through your slickness, dipping into you just so, enjoying the noises you make before withdrawing. It’s a shame he can’t take his time. He’s too impatient. One of his hands he uses to guide his cock to your cunt, and the other he uses to steady your hips. His head drops to watch himself sink into you.

The stretch of him inside you makes your toes curl, you’re already pulsing around him and he hasn’t even given you everything.

“Fuck,” Joel whispers your name when he feels you around him, all-encompassing and overwhelming. “So fucking good.”

You’re whining, but it’s unintelligible, your head bobbing into an enthusiastic nod, teeth snagging your lower lip. When he’s reached the hilt, you pause only for a moment before you begin to move on your own accord. Experimental rolls of your hips, not drawing back far at all, keeping him deep inside you, rutting and writhing with no reprieve. He thinks he might come right then and there, it’s been so long, and it’s you. This young, pretty thing who – if this whole fucking world hadn’t gone to shit – wouldn’t have looked twice at him before. It’s just another injustice – that you’re going to let someone like him ruin you.

You begin to bounce on him, dragging yourself along his length. “That’s a good fucking girl,” he groans. “Just like that.”

“It’s so…fuck, Joel, you feel-”

“I know.” He answers, partially in agreement, and partially to shut you up. If you keep saying his name like that, it’s not going to end well.

He tries as best as he can to answer your hips with ruts of his own, but it’s sloppy, erratic. The whole thing is, and he wants to curse himself because it really shouldn’t be, just like he shouldn’t be thinking about what he’ll do differently next time.

It’s the first time he’s been with you, so he doesn’t know what it feels like when you’re getting close, but you’re throbbing and pulsing around him, your breathy pants and soft sighs start sounding more desperate.

You’re so fucking wet he can hear it, can feel it seeping out, dripping down his balls onto the mattress. He realizes one of his hands is just clenched into a fist, nails digging into his palm, trying his hardest not to come before you do. All he wants is to give you something, a chance to make up for everything that he’s taken.

“More,” you murmur, you don’t even seem to remember, or care, that he’s hurt. That you’d spent hours the night before after he’d been torn apart, putting him back together. “More, please.”

His lips quirk into a boyish smile, something you’ve never seen before. He likes you like this, begging, desperate, sweet. “Don’t laugh,” but your lips are quirking, too, and you fucking nuzzle against his beard to hide it.

“I’m not - fuck.”

The shower was useless, he’s already sweating again, but so are you, and he trails his tongue across your neck to taste it, then unclenches his fist, moving it between your legs. He takes your clit between his knuckles, circling it carefully, steadily, while his cock keeps hitting the same, soft spot over and over again.

You can’t get enough. “Harder, Joel…please.”

Of course, he obliges. And he’s lucky, because he doesn’t have to do much more. You slow, legs shaking, and you’re suddenly so tight around him he can’t move. “That’s it, baby, come on, so fucking good…” he would, is, saying anything to feel you. His name is a mewl on your lips, the rubber-band snaps, and you come around him, pressing every part of yourself against the hard line of his torso. He aches, it’s the sweetest torture he’s ever known.

He knows, because he’s going to fuck you through it, has to, that he will not last any longer.

“Where?” he pants, and you’re still peaking, gasping, grabbing.

“Inside me,” you answer. “Please, inside me.”

He’s too lost in the moment to consider the consequences. Doesn’t care about them at all. When he comes, you groan at the feeling of him fucking you full, cunt still squeezing him, not as tightly as before, but still apparent.

The last bit of arousal is still waning, and he leans back to lie on the bed, pulling you with him. You fall to his chest, hands pressing lightly to adjust your position, suddenly aware again of the wound beneath his ribs, the bruises on his shoulder, settling so you’re pressed against his side, his arm still loose around your waist.

Neither of you say anything for a long time, and he notices your legs are trembling.

We shouldn’t have done that, he wants you to say, as you should. But you show no signs of remorse.

Before all this, when he was a different man, he would’ve helped clean you up after. He would have soothed you in the aftermath; stroked your hair, peppered kisses along your neck, your cheeks, pulled you close so you could fall asleep in his arms. He can’t now, because you’re smart and you’d know what it means, but the guilt gnaws at him.

When you sit up, pulling your shirt back over your head, sliding on your panties, and walking towards the bathroom, he imagines you think you’re doing him a favor. You are, in a way. Or maybe, you’re resisting the same impulse that he is.

You return a few minutes later, wrapped in a tattered robe, and climb next to him on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows, then looking down at him. Between the combination of being tired, stiff, and fucked-out, he still hasn’t moved.

“Don’t you think Tess is worried about where you are?” You bend your knees back and cross your ankles.

“She knows I can take care of myself.”

Your eyebrow quirks. Can you? Joel turns away and stares up at the water-damaged ceiling panels.

“You should probably go.”

His head snaps back towards you. He thinks of every person over the last twenty years he’d said the equivalent to after sex, and wonders if it made them feel as nauseous as he does hearing those words from your mouth.

The feeling fades – only a little – when you reach over to press your palm to the side of his face, cupping his cheek, before tenderly moving a piece of damp hair off his forehead, nails scraping against his scalp.

He lets his eyes close just for a beat, before nodding and sitting up. “Thank you,” he says, and he’s not sure what for. All of it, he supposes.

“Uh-huh,” you roll over, reaching to grab your book that had fallen to the floor at some point during your coupling, while he pulls on his clothes, laces up his boots, and takes the antibiotics from your bedside table.

Joel takes one last look at you, already engrossed in your reading, and then walks to the door.

“You know where to find me, if you need anything.”

You look up, nod, and he’s gone.

— — — — — —

part ii

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #enemies to lovers #tlou #tlou hbo #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tlou imagine

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chappellroansdreamgirl · 6 days

Text

officer!els<3

author's note - meow i love this woman.

content warnings - black!coded!reader ig????, fluff, els i love u ellie williams pls handcuff me to ur bed and police-brutalize me! , text msgs from reader that are very me-coded! , mostly just based off every grumpy but cool cop i've seen in media, lots of notes from me i'm going insane I NEED HER!!!!! , there's a white man in a pic i put... you have been warned, smut/suggestive shit at the end!

-------------------------------------------------------

- def wanted to be a cop when she was a kid and then was a total fucking juvenile as a teen. (duh!)

- always loved the police officers who barely ever gave troubled kids a hard time. (this is coming from a troubled kid. acab all the way except for u guys. well, still acab, but y'all r cool!) would refuse to talk to anyone except her favorites. i fully believe that's one of the reasons she would go into this workforce.

- when she got approved to start training to be a cop, u were home with her favorite strand of weed and she gave u a look like, "🤨🤨" , "can't be doing that no more baby, i'm gonna be a cop." , "...stfu and take the first hit before you piss me off..." , she's wearing a SHIT-eating grin before she takes it. (don't ask me how she passes her drug-tests!) (probably gets jesse to do it or someone idk maybe joel if she's lucky!) (def not joel...)

- ADDING ONTO THIS!^^ : every single time you smoke when she can't she'll look so sad or just side-eye tf out of you... "really?" , "what do you want me to do ellie..." u stopped smoking around her when she couldn't...

- this woman is so intimidating but once those cop dogs come on the scene she's so cute<3 . she's so smiley and happy they love her AND SHE LOVES THEM. she definitely sent u a picture of her with the group of the babies and was like, "can we adopt them all pls i love them ):" . you guys adopted a rescue pup shortly after...

- whenever you're doing ANYTHING EVER she flashes her badge at you and says something so loser of her , "don't make me handcuff you..." or makes finger guns with the sounds and GOD I LOVE THIS WOMAN.

- speaking of badges, she always has her badge on her. ALWAYS. it is EMBARRASSING!

- when she got her first arrest she was so happy:3 . i FEEL like she took a picture with the fucker and everything and she looked so proud of herself. "good job baby now pls get to the station before that mf breaks out of those handcuffs he looks like he's gonna murder u..."

- this is a headcannon of mine (and canon so why am i saying hc maybe it's just bcs it's more in-depth in my head.) but she loves kids and whenever she sees a younger person at the station, she makes sure that they're ok and have everything they need.

- with that being said, she HATES the teens who don't have a valid reason to be such delinquents. lovable delinquents are her soft-spot but those... THOSE ONES😧.

- definitely is a kitten-saver-cop. hates getting the call but she responds every time.

- sends u this pic anytime u say something mildly threatening to her in text msgs:

suggestive/NSFW!

-------------------------------------------------------

- the day she got her uniform, you wanted to jump her bones. she came back home, poor girl was so tired and all you could think about is how good she looked in that shit.

- like i said... the badge is with her at all times... maybe this is too feral but i feel like she put IT in ur mouth and took a polaroid of it after u were done eating her out or SSAAAWWWWMMMMTHHHIIIIING. (pls let me wear ur badge baby i'm on my knees BEGGING YOU!)

- definitely joked about role-playing jailer/jailed and then it wasn't a joke anymore. y'all tried it once and couldn't stop laughing.

- has definitely used her handcuffs on u or vice versa. she gets so excited when u pull that shit out.

- ggggg...g-g-gu-....gggggggggguuuunnn ki-

- definitely has fucked u in the uniform. u two probs have had a quickie in the station bathroom on multiple occasions.

bonus round - police!els edit<3 :

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steddieas-shegoes · 5 months

Text

you're not jonathan

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'no upside down au' rated t wc: 997 cw: recreational drug use, language tags: meet-ugly turned meet-cute, flirting, somewhat ambiguous ending but we all know what's gonna happen

🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿

Steve was not supposed to be the one picking up the drugs for the party.

He wasn't even going to the party.

But Jonathan couldn't get it from his usual guy, said he was back home in California for the summer, and it wasn't like Robin had a hookup.

Eddie Munson didn't technically deal anymore, but he made exceptions for previous customers, and Jonathan had been a regular during high school.

It wasn't shocking news to Steve, but what was shocking was hearing all these stories about how Eddie didn't even usually meet someone during daylight hours. Except today, apparently.

Steve tripped over another branch, barely caught himself before falling on his face.

"I better get so high off this shit," he said to himself.

"I only sell the good shit."

Steve froze.

Somehow, he'd missed a person walking up to him, probably when he nearly ate dirt.

"Is there any reason a hike is required to get some weed?" Steve asked, brushing his hands on his pants to get the remnants of the tree trunk he saved himself on.

Eddie crossed his arms in front of him, raising an unimpressed brow.

"No. Jonathan suggested the place."

Hard to believe the guy who hated being outside for more than a few minutes would have suggested a half mile trek into the woods, but Steve didn't really care to argue.

"O...kay. Well, I've got the cash if you wanna get this over with," Steve said as he reached into his pockets that were..."Fuck."

He started patting his pockets, his shirt, looking around him at the ground to try to find his wallet.

"Everything okay?" Eddie asked, coming closer.

"I lost my wallet. Shit!"

"Alright, I can help you look, man. It's not a big deal. Gotta be somewhere, right?" Eddie started looking around him, though it was half-hearted at best. "What's it look like?"

"It's brown. Um, leather?" Steve suddenly forgot any other details about his wallet. How convenient.

"Okay, so the color of the ground. Should be easy."

Steve snorted.

Eddie was smirking as he walked the way Steve came, checking the ground around him as he did so.

Steve followed behind, but he was pretty certain they wouldn't find it.

After ten minutes of looking, Eddie sighed.

"We should just smoke a bit. Take the edge off. Ya know?"

"I don't think that's a good idea. I can't pay you until I find my wallet," Steve said as he continued looking, bending down to get a closer look at a spot that seemed like the color of his wallet.

"On the house."

Steve stood straight up.

"Really?"

"Can't really kick ya when you're down, can I? Plus, I planned on smoking after you left anyway. We can share," Eddie shrugged, like it was no big deal.

Steve had never gotten high outside of house parties, the comfort of his own home or a friend's home soothing his anxieties about losing his inhibitions.

But out here? With Eddie? It didn't seem like a smart thing to do.

"Alright," Steve shrugged back.

Eddie must have sensed something about him, though, because he didn't let him take more than three puffs of the joint before he put it out and found a collection of boulders for them to sit on.

"You ever think about how trees are alive but they don't have ears?" Steve asked a minute later.

"Oh, you're that kind of high." Eddie poked his hand, making him look over at him. "You eat today?"

"Maybe. I've been busy. Do you think trees get hungry?" Steve replied.

Eddie searched his face before letting his pinky rest against Steve's hand on the rock.

It felt like fire.

"They do."

"But they don't have pancakes or cheeseburgers. Like, we can't grind it up and put it in the dirt for them, right?" Steve's jaw dropped. "Can we?"

Eddie watched as Steve looked over at some of the trees surrounding them.

"I don't think we can, no."

"A shame. They're missin' out. You know who else is missin' out? Jonathan! He made me come here and he didn't even tell me you had long hair or like the nicest eyelashes. Which is weird because he didn't shut up about anything else about you but he forgot about the eyelashes!" Steve's hand curled around Eddie's pinky. "And you look warm."

Eddie's brows raised.

He wasn't sure who Steve was. Jonathan had just insisted he was cool.

But Jonathan hadn't mentioned that his hair looked softer than silk, or that his eyes were wide and innocent despite his lip curling up in the corner in annoyance.

Jonathan seemed to have left a lot of things out.

"Well, it is summer. It's pretty warm," Eddie gulped. "But you do look a little cold."

"I get cold easy. Robin says it's because I don't eat enough red meat or something. Low irony or something."

Eddie was so endeared.

"I could help you stay warm? Walk you back to your car if you want?"

Eddie did not want that, but he knew Steve probably needed to walk off some of this high before his friends started to worry about him.

"Don't wanna walk," Steve leaned his head on Eddie's shoulder. "My head is walking."

"Should I try to head back and get one of your friends?"

Steve shook his head.

"Be fine in an hour."

"Okay," Eddie put his arm around Steve's shoulder, surprised to find that Steve was shivering. "Hey, you okay?"

"You do have good shit."

"That's not an answer," Eddie chuckled.

"I'm good. Best."

Eddie let him burrow further into his side and waited for his shivering to subside before he suggested heading back to his car again.

Steve still refused, and Eddie didn't have it in him to push.

Not when they were finding shapes in the clouds and he was holding Steve close.

He'd definitely owe Jonathan a lot of product if this went the way he wanted it to.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #no upside down au

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pinkthrone445 · 2 months

Note

This might be a weird request, but can you write a fic where reader is a new teacher at abbot and is like really innocent, kinda like Ms honey from Matilda for reference, and Melissa just wants to ruin her and her innocence.

This is definitely kinky so I would understand if u don’t want to write it! But if you do their sex would definitely be kinky!🤭

-Caught in the moment-

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:Smut, very detailed Smut! Kinky

Warnings:yes! +18 Smut, Kinks

Summary:Melissa decides to show you what it was like to be with a real woman.

Hi! I love your username, it made me laugh a lot. I hope you like it, enjoy it and that it's what you expected 💞💞

Usually innocence went hand in hand with one's age, the younger one, the more innocent. But lately almost no one preserves their innocence, children from a very young age already know many things that perhaps they shouldn't, it was noticeable in their vocabulary and in their way of acting. They knew a lot about sex, drugs, and alcohol, lost their virginity at a very young age, and had almost no childhood anymore. Melissa knew all this, she saw it at school every day, especially in the slightly older students.

So accustomed to this behavior, she was surprised when you came to work at school, she never thought that the most innocent person there would end up being a teacher.

Mel loved your innocence, she actually loved disturbing it, she had so much fun making you nervous and making you stutter and blush. Barbara often called her out by telling her to stop bothering you, but as always, the redhead ignored her.

Your students called you Miss Honey because of how sweet you were to them, you always went above and beyond to protect and help them.

Many teachers loved you, but others didn't like the way you were, they thought that your innocence was just a façade...

Ava went into the teachers' room to make herself a coffee, everyone was there except you

-"What's up slackers" - she greeted everyone while grabbing her cup- "I need to know... What do you think about the new teacher?"-She whispered, looking for gossip

-"I think she's a good teacher, I haven't seen much of her classes but the kids love her for a reason" - Barbara commented truthfully

-"The other day when I was walking down the hallway I saw how she taught history to the little ones, they were so focused on her, I myself was attracted by the way she teaches and I stayed listening to her for a long time" - Jacob commented

-"Oh come on! Now that Janine is not here, the new girl is the new Janine, with her whiny voice and cheerful self... Help me here Melissa" - Ava kept insisting, trying to get some interesting comment out of them, but the redhead just shrugged her shoulders

-"I don't know, I like her" - Melissa said simply

-"Shocking" - Barbara commented, earning herself a blow to the arm from her friend.

-"Good morning my fellow pears" - You commented entering the room and everyone fell silent, especially Ava, without giving it much importance you started to make a coffee-"Anyone want more coffee?" - You offered and everyone refused, but Mel said yes and handed you her cup, which you carefully refilled and returned, the redhead brushed your hand smiling and took your wrist and brought you closer to her

-"Thank you little lamb" - Mel whispered kissing your wrist and then took a sip of her coffee humming, smiling and looking into your eyes- "Perfect and sweet like you..."-She whispered making you blush, her eyes, her smile, her lips on your wrist, everything she was was hypnotic, making it hard to take your gaze away from her. Someone coughed making you fall back into reality again

-"I made cookies, someone wants some?"-You offered to change the subject and avoid looking at the redhead, who followed your interaction with a lot of curiosity.

This wasn't the first time Mel had done that kind of thing only to see you blush and make you nervous, she did it so often that by this point others saw it as normal.

At the end of the break, you returned to your classroom with your students, who were excited to see you again.

Whenever Mel could, she would take advantage of the moment and pass by the door of your classroom just to listen to you talk to the children, conveniently your classroom was next to hers so she listened to you whenever she wanted.

-"Miss honey, a kid at lunchtime pushed me and my glasses broke" - A little boy commented to you with teary eyes just as the redhead was passing through the door, the boy was holding his glasses in his little hands and you sighed kneeling beside him with a soft expression, letting your flowery dress touch the ground, carefully you took his glasses and caressed his little face

-"I'm so sorry little one, do you know who it was?" - You asked him and he nodded-"Very well, I'll talk to their parents after school, yes?" - You whispered, and the little guy nodded again-"Would a hug make you feel better?" - The little boy nodded and you hugged him tight while he let out a few little sobs-"I'll fix your glasses right now" - You whispered hugging him and looked at the others kids-"Kids, do we have a friend who hasn't had a good day, any ideas to make him feel better?" - You asked questions and the kids started saying good ideas to help him, Mel smiled and went on her way.

At the end of the day, when almost all the children had left, you stayed at the school waiting for the parents of the child who had hit and broken your student's glasses. The aggressive kid was a few years older than your students, so he had more strength, and for some reason he had an arrogant smile as you waited for their parents.

Melissa was about to go to her car when she saw you in the driveway with the student, so she stayed next to you

-"Hi little lamb... You okay?" - She whispered and you nodded, avoiding looking her in the eye

-"Yes... I'm just waiting for his parents... That here they come" - You whispered seeing the student's parents. You tried to calmly and kindly explain the situation to them, but they were quite aggressive and defended their child at all costs, which made you understand why the boy had such an arrogant smile, he knew he wouldn't be in trouble because his parents stood up for him always

-"Look, I understand if you want to trust your son and his behavior, but many saw him push and hit one of my students and broke his glasses, I wish he would at least apologize or help the parents pay for his new glasses..."-You said, trying to make your voice as firm as possible

-"You're not going to come and tell us what to do or how to raise him"-They answered you in a bad way and you sighed

-"No one is imposing any of that on you , but if you don't start correcting and disciplining your child, he's going to get into more and more trouble... And he maybe ends up being a bad person" - You whispered without much confidence

-"Are you accusing my son of being a bad person? Who do you think you are?" - One of the parents got very angry and accused you by pushing your shoulder

-"Hey, let's calm down" - Melissa tried to diffuse the situation

-"No, that's not what I meant... I meant that if you don't discipline him he could end up being disrespectful and aggressive like you" - You didn't want to say it like that, but nerves got the words out before you could register them. And before you could correct yourself, a fist blocked your view. One of the parents had struck you with his fist over one of your eyes, stumbling you up and making you take a few steps back

-"Hey asshole!" - Melissa screamed and hit him back, standing up for you. The blow left you a little dizzy and you didn't register much more of what happened until Mel guided you to your classroom and brought an ice pack for your eye-"Are you with me litte lamb?" - she whispered putting the ice in your eye and you nodded

-"Are they gone?" - You asked sitting on a table looking at her with your good eye

-"Yes... Mr. Johnson called the police and they took care of it... It's cute how you wanted to defend your student, but we need to work on your reflexes..."-she joked and you nodded

-"Yeah... Thank you for standing up for me...and for this" - You pointed to the ice she was still holding, Mel smiled and carefully stroked your cheek

-"Don't even mention it" - She whispered and you couldn't help but smile at her, taking advantage of how close she was to admire her beauty, but the redhead frowned-"Stop looking at me like that" - Whispered

-"Why?" - You laughed

-"You look at me like a deer dazzled down by the lights of a car" - The redhead was still frowning

-"I'm dazzle by your gorgeous face..." - You whispered embarrassedly and she laughed

-"If you're going to flirt, at least do it with confidence... Do you want me to teach you? "-She joked and you jokingly shoved her

-"Maybe I don't know much about sex or that, but I know how to flirt, you just make me nervous..." - You confessed a little embarrassed

-"Do you want to learn?" - Mel whispered and stood between your legs, you looked up in confusion

-"What?" - you asked

-"If you want me to teach you, about sex... I'm sure if you know more about sex you'd be more confident to flirt with me" - she commented with an arrogant smile and you rolled your eyes

-"I don't think that fixes things, I'm shy by nature..."-You murmured looking away from her, tired of her making fun of you

-"Hey..."-Mel grabbed your jaw making you look at her-"I'm not making fun of you, I'm trying to make you understand how much I'm attracted to you...Look hon, I'm an older woman, I know what I want and like and I won't be messing around anymore, I want you, I love how you are, but I want to ruin that innocence and make you mine, I want the most inappropriate memories to come to your head when you think of me..."-she responded making you blush more, but you were too nervous to be able to respond-"Jesus! I'm telling you all these things and you keep looking at me with that innocent face, as if I didn't notice how you look at me out of the corner of your eye or how you look at my breasts when I bend down... Please tell me this isn't just my imagination because I'm going crazy..."-Melissa whispered, setting the ice on the table, you barely smiled and kissed the tip of her nose, which confused the redhead as she didn't expect that

-"I like you... But... I've never been with a woman, I don't know how to do any of this..."-You whispered embarrassedly and the redhead laughed caressing your jaw

-"Leave it to me, you just relax and enjoy" - She whispered before kissing your lip softly and slowly. Her lips were soft and had a little cherry flavor from her lipstick, they were plump and strong, expert at kissing. A shiver ran down your head, down your spine and down your feet as her teeth brushed your lips and she took a gentle bite pulling a little, an involuntary moan escaped your lips and you blushed a lot as you listened to yourself. You knew how to kiss, you'd done it several times, but she was something unlike anything you'd tried before. Mel smiled arrogantly as she listened to you and looked into your eyes with great desire, as if with your moan you would have activated something animalistic in her. Her firm hands rested on your thighs without taking her eyes off your face

-"You know? Your dresses always drive me crazy... But your moans are something else..."-she whispered over your lips and began to kiss your jaw as her hands lifted your floral dress a little so she could caress your skin, her nails purposely scratched your legs and you moaned softly again. Her kisses on your neck, her body against yours, her hands, everything around you was Melissa, and you couldn't be happier about it.

Mel began to kiss the neckline of your dress, gently biting your breasts as her hand moved up your leg reaching for the edge of your underwear

-"Mel..."-Her name came out like a groan from your mouth, in the ears of the redhead it sounded as if the angels were singing praises to god-"We're still in school, what if someone comes?" - Your voice trembled, but not with fear, but with pleasure

-"There's no one left, there's only Mr. Johnson cleaning the classrooms, but it will take a long time for him to get here..."-She whispered and pulled your dress up to your waist, smiling at the sight of your pink underwear with small flowers-"God, I want to ruin you so bad"-She murmured in a deep voice and knelt in front of you, licking her lips as if you were a delicious dish and she was a hungry woman who hadn't eaten in months. You tried to close your legs a little so you wouldn't feel so vulnerable, but the redhead grabbed your knees avoiding it. She carefully grabbed one of your legs and began kissing it from your knee to almost your crotch, taking small bites along the way. And you just thought about how pathetic you should look trying to hold back your moans.-"I told you to relax..."-Melissa murmured against your thigh as if she could read your mind. Her free hand moved up your body to your chest and gently pushed you so that you were laying over the table, resting on your shoulders so that you wouldn't lie completely flat. Because of that position your legs spread further apart and that satisfied the redhead. With the tip of her nose, Melissa brushed and pressed her nose on your crotch over your underwear, causing you to shiver and a gasp to come out of your mouth as you let your head fall back-"That's it, relax..."-she whispered, and her nose brushed your crotch again, specially over the wet patch that had formed in your underwear. Which made her smile arrogantly when she saw how wet you were thanks to her. Gently she blew air from her mouth on where it was wet, giving you chills from how cold it felt. Her tongue traveled the same path her nose had traveled, it felt soft, the mixture of your juices with her saliva, but also the underwear generated friction against your fols and clit, which made you move your hips against her mouth, looking for more of it, more of her.

Mel pulled your underwear to the side without taking it off, coming face to face with your dripping entrance. Two of her fingers collected your juices and then spread it all over your vagina, then kept your lips open and separated. Your entrance was practically beating at this point, begging for her, for something else

-"Look at you, you don't look so innocent now little lamb..." - she whispered before burying her face between your legs. Her plump lips expertly sucked on your clit, alternating with the tip of her tongue to play with it too. At this point you were so wet that it was spreading down her chin and even wetting your desk. The redhead clawed at your legs again as her tongue penetrated you as deep as it could. At this point your moans were animalistic and desperate. You carefully rested your body on one of your hands and with the other you grabbed her hair by pulling it and pushing her face deeper and closer to you, without worrying if she could breathe or not. When the redhead's nose pressed down on your button, you started riding it on her face and it was a matter of seconds until you came on her face, letting out your loudest moan along with her name and a few insults. Without much strength you lay back completely on your desk while the redhead continued to lick your folds trying to make sure nothing went to waste. Your breathing was ragged and you felt like you were on another planet, as Melissa kissed your legs softly trying to help you come back to reality.

The moment your body reacted and you opened your eyes staring at the ceiling, your blood ran cold

-"FUCK!" - You screamed and Mel looked at you worriedly, when she followed your gaze, she saw on the ceiling a very well hidden, almost imperceptible camera, camera that had probably captured everything that had happened and that it was surely hiding and recording in Ava's office.

#melissa schemmenti soft #melissa schemmenti smut #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti abott elementary #abott elementary fanfic #abott elementary #abbot elementary #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter fanfic #lissa ann walter #lisa ann walter

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d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n · 10 months

Text

don't give up on me.

Regulus Black x F!Reader

Summary: You're sick. Regulus knows that. But how can he convince you that you're worth saving?

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: IN DEPTH DISCUSSIONS OF EDS, WEIGHT LOSS, THROWING UP, FAINTING, HOSPITAL WING VISITS, ANY AND ALL ED-RELATED WARNINGS

AN: If this kind of content is triggering for you, PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING!!! nothing is more important to me than y'all keeping yourselves healthy - both mentally and physically! If this shit helps you then, here ya go :) (P.S. the summary is really bad sorry!!)

You ran back to the dorms, promising Pandora that you'd be back before breakfast. Lie.

Every day was pretty much the same: you weighed yourself on the muggle scale that you'd snuck into your bags behind your dad's back, and then based on that number, you'd eat. Or you wouldn't. It was easy to miss mealtimes - you'd make the excuse of needing to finish some homework or having forgotten something in the dorms. If you went to the hall during mealtimes, you'd put a little food on your plate and push it around to make it seem like you'd eaten loads when you hadn't touched anything at all.

If the number on the scale weren't acceptable to some extreme standard you'd set yourself to, then you'd spiral - only small amounts of food, you'd go on a run before dinner (strategically showing up late enough that there wouldn't be much left), calling yourself the worst names in the mirror.

It was a routine that you hated - you wanted to kick it, but you couldn't. It was a safety net. You needed control, and this was the only way to have it. It was your drug and you were dependent on it.

It had started as a need to look better, more like your sister. She was taller, skinnier, better at everything she did. You wanted that. So you started skipping meals, spending more time doing workouts - you'd bought one of those muggle aerobics DVDs, and you'd follow it almost every day. You lost a few kilograms in the first few weeks of summer, and the pride of achieving your goal outweighed the hunger pains and headaches. Your weight became an obsession to you and you weighed yourself after every meal and in the morning and night, and your diet to become healthier quickly became a desire to be smaller.

It didn't help that you remained invisible to everyone except your few Hogwarts friends. They owled you frequently, begging you to come up to London so you could spend time together, but you lived too far away for that to be possible. Your dad was busy all the time - it wasn't easy for him after the divorce - and your sister was busy with all her friends. They didn't like you very much, finding you odd as you went to school so far away. They left you alone for the most part - you only saw them when your sister agreed to drive you somewhere.

Not eating became natural after a while: the hunger pains stopped being painful, the headaches disappeared, and the desire to eat had all but disappeared. No one really noticed - you were pretty good at hiding your tricks - but your quickly shrinking body was noticeable. Your dad brought it up once, worried about how your clothes looked so big on your body: he offered to drive you to the doctors, wondering if being a wizard meant that you were more prone to getting sick. You shook your head, telling him that you were fine, but you made a mental reminder to buy much baggier clothes to hide the weight loss.

After that, you quickly went from loving your new body to despising it. You hid every inch of your skin even in the height of summer - hiding under baggy clothes, blankets, and behind pillows. You shoved your mirror to the back of your wardrobe.

By the time you went back to Hogwarts in September, your robes were far too big for you. You'd altered them sneakily: you kept the robes you had but they rested on your body better.

You'd avoided hugs from your friends, lying about an injured arm, but you'd happily reunited with them on the Hogwarts express. They all commented on how they were loving your new look - you smiled sadly at the reason. You remember getting off the train onto the platform - Regulus had helped you down from the train, gripping your hand tightly as you stepped off. As your friends dragged you away, you'd looked back at him. He'd looked almost concerned.

You came back to the Great Hall halfway through breakfast. You sat down with your friend, adjusting your collar where it was rubbing against your neck. You felt uncomfortable, almost like there was an emptiness in the back of your mind.

Pandora caught your eyes mouthing, are you ok? You nodded in response. You grabbed a glass of water and some fruit. Your throat was so dry and every single movement made you nauseous. It's fine, you told yourself, you can run it off before Charms. You're fine.

You were lying to yourself. You weren't okay, you had a problem and you knew it. But you couldn't pluck up the courage to go to Madam Pomfrey and get help. This was comfortable. You never wanted to go back to the way it was before - constantly hating your body for the way it looked in clothing, jealous of what others looked like. You'd take a few bad days like this over that.

You yawned. You were exhausted but your sleep wasn't restful or comfortable. Some parts of your body would always be sore when you woke up.

You felt someone move to sit next to you, and before you could turn to see who it was, they grabbed the apple out of your hand. You turned to protest, before seeing Regulus' pointed look and the knife in his hand. He began to cut up small slices and feed them to you, not giving you time to protest until the apple was finished and entirely consumed.

"Get a room lovebirds, someone from down the table called, but Regulus was quick to shoot them the finger. You smiled at that and Regulus let out a breath at the sight of it.

"It's nice to see you smile, canari. You don't seem to do it as much anymore," He said lowly, making sure his voice was only for you.

You pat his shoulder to reassure him, trying to hide your panicked mind behind gentle touches. He smiled at you before standing up to leave. He offered you a hand, which you gratefully took, and you both headed towards Defense Against the Dark Arts - your first lesson of the day.

That night, you had been planning on skipping dinner. You had convinced Pandora and Barty that you had an essay for Professor McGonagall that you hadn't even started, and they had believed you. They left you in the common room, promising to bring back one of your favourites - a Pumpkin Pasty. All was well.

You slipped out of your dorm room and down the stairs to the front door, heading out for a quick run.

"Where do you think you're going?" A voice cut through the cool air. You shut your eyes. Busted.

Regulus walked up to you, raising his eyebrows and waiting for an answer. "Tell me, Reggie, does growing up rich make you so entitled or are you just naturally a pompous ass?"

He laughed, throwing his head back, and grabbing your hand, "I'm going to let it go because you haven't eaten anything and you're probably hangry." He dragged you down to the Great Hall, even as you dragged your feet.

He pulled you in and sat you down by his side, piling your plate high with all the foods he knew were your favourite. If your anxiety wasn't spiraling, you would be touched that Regulus knew exactly what you liked and what you didn't.

People were sat all around the table, making small talk and eating. You took deep breaths as nonchalantly as you could, cutting up the food Regulus had piled on your plate. You didn’t want to draw any attention to yourself. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem - you’d have a few days of no one noticing you skipping meals, then you could comfortably eat dinner with no worries. You could prepare for that. But, after breakfast this morning was sprung on you, you didn’t think you should be eating this soon. I mean you had only just run off the apple you had for breakfast. How were you going to keep your weight down if you were gorging yourself on the most unhealthy food every minute of every day.

You tried to join in with the conversation every so often, pushing things around on your plate as you did so. You thought you were hiding it well, but you caught Regulus glancing at you in concern, every time you finished speaking.

Catching onto this habit, you worriedly stood up, grabbing your things and getting ready to go.

“Leaving again so early?” Barty asked, grabbing your wrist. He looked at the wrist almost concerned but you tugged your hand away. You looked around the table before your eyes landed on Regulus, concern filling his face.

You swallowed nervously, “Yeah, I'm going to head up to bed. Goodnight,” You stepped over the bench and left through one of the back doors. Regulus watched you leave. Something didn’t sit right with him.

As soon as you rounded the corner, you picked up the pace almost breaking into a jog. You made it down the stairs to the Slytherin common room, heart pounding in your chest and nearly threw yourself up the stairs to your dorm. You closed the door and locked yourself in the bathroom. You were usually methodical about this process, you had a system. But you were desperate at this point. You tied your hair up messily and filled up a hidden water bottle at the sink before chugging it and turning to the toilet.

Back in the Great Hall, Regulus decided that he was going to go check on you. He excused himself and bid everyone a good night - just like you had - before heading in the direction of the Slytherin dorm.

You were bent over the toilet, retching. You hated this so much. It didn’t feel good - it almost hurt - but you felt so relieved doing it. You couldn’t explain it. It was somehow the one thing that helped you feel better.

Regulus quickly made his way up the stairs to face your dorm. The stairs were enchanted to stop the boys from climbing up them, but Regulus was able to jump and skip a few steps to make it to the top. Nothing was going to stop him from getting to you. Not now.

Regulus knocked on your dorm door, to which he was met with silence. You couldn’t hear him. Not liking the feeling in his gut, he slowly pushed the door open. To his surprise, you weren’t there.

From the bathroom, he heard the faint sound of someone retching. Regulus furrowed his brows. You hadn't seemed sick this morning. Why didn’t you say something? You were going to go on a walk, for Merlin's sake! Closing the door behind him, he walked over to the bathroom door, pressing his ear to the door. That was definitely you retching. He knocked. You froze.

“Canari? Are you okay in there?” He asked, leaning against the door.

Shit.

You scrambled to get up, quickly flushing the toilet and washing your hands.

"Canari?"

You splashed your face with water before replying, “I’m fine, Reg.” You cursed yourself for the wavering in your voice.

You turned to the mirror - you were a mess, your tear-streaked face red and splotchy. You washed your face, trying to get rid of as much inflammation as you could.

You took a deep breath and leaned against the sink. How could you have been so stupid? How were you going to talk yourself out of this?

“Can you open the door, please?” Regulus said. He was half intending to break the door down, but he wouldn't violate you like that.

You sighed and opened the door with your head down. You tried to walk past Regulus, but he gently pulled you towards him, your head resting just over his heart. His finger tilted your face upwards, his eyes widening at your red eyes and face.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick?” he asked.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You tried to pry yourself away from him, but he wasn't letting you go so easily.

“You’re not fine if you’re throwing up. What's really going on?”

“It’s nothing. I had a stomach bug over the summer. Sometimes it acts up a little. It's fine. I'm fine.” you affirmed. Your solidness was almost more to convince yourself than him.

One look at Regulus told you he was not convinced. He pulled you back into his chest. "You sure that's all it is? You'll tell me if it gets worse?"

"Yeah, Reg, I'll tell you if it gets worse. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

"It's okay, Canari. As long as you are okay, it's okay."

You managed to avoid any more confrontations until Christmas. You decided to stay at school over the Christmas holidays, like you usually did, which meant no friends to worry about your ever-growing problem.

You woke up to a dry throat and a pounding headache. The usual. You coaxed your body into slumping out of bed and you brushed your teeth. God, you looked a mess. The dark circles under your eyes were prominent and your face was pale and gaunt. You almost looked like a skeleton.

The sun was pretty high in the sky - it was probably almost afternoon. Shit. How could you have slept half the day away? It's fine you'll just have to stay up later tonight to finish all your essays. You walked out into the dorm to be greeted with 4 other empty beds - everyone else had gone home for the holidays. You figured it was probably safer to stay at school than to go home looking so terrible.

Begrudgingly, you pulled on a pair of jeans and a Slytherin sweater you were almost sure wasn't yours, and slipped down to the common room. You'd left an essay for Professor Binns in front of the fireplace - you had rushed to the bathroom after Barty had practically force-fed you a few. You'd blamed it on the fact you got a dog food-flavoured one (you didn't - it was chocolate brownie, which was almost worse), but the side-long glance Regulus had given you made you retreat into your dorm room for the rest of the night.

Still, you needed to finish that essay and you headed down the steps, pausing halfway down to calm your racing heart. The common room was cold and empty - it usually was in the winter, given that most Slytherin students went home for the break. You shivered violently - the cold that nestled into your bones in early October had refused to leave. Now, without at least a jumper or two under your robes, you were constantly shivering.

You glanced at all the tables - there was no parchment or quills. There was no one still here that would want to steal your essay or your quills, so you were surprised to see all your stuff gone and the common room completely clean. You searched everywhere in case the house elves had moved it while cleaning, but you couldn't find it anywhere.

Tears started brimming in your eyes knowing that those were the only quills you had and there wasn't much chance that you could afford to buy a whole set of new ones and finish your essay before Christmas day.

"Good morning, Canari." You whirled around to see Regulus standing behind you, his obsidian-black suit perfectly ironed and immaculately clean. His hair was perfectly coiffed - as it usually was - and his face clean of the stubble you knew that he was able to grow. Not a hair out of place. Never a hair out of place. Why couldn't you be more like Regulus - perfect without trying. Skinny and pretty and fun to be around. Not always worrying about if you were trying too hard.

A lone tear slipped out of your eye and down your face. Regulus was there in an instant, his hands grasping your face, thumbs wiping away any tears.

"What's wrong, Canari? Why are you crying?" Regulus said, pulling you into his chest. You felt him stiffen against you, his fingers running over your protruding spine. But you nestled into his warmth, the chill in your bones just barely sated by his heat.

You looked up into his eyes, sniffling, "Someone took all my stuff."

"What?"

"I forgot my stuff down here last night - my essay for Binns and all my quills were on the table, but now they're gone," your breathing picked up as you began to panic, "And I can't afford to buy a whole new pack of quills, which means that I won't be able to finish any of my other essays and Professor McGona-"

"Canari. I have your stuff." Regulus interrupted, his arms running up and down your back, "It's okay. I took it to my dorm before I went to bed. Here." Regulus led you to the staircase leading up to his dorm and made you wait as he dashed upstairs and got your things. He handed them to you in a neat pile before leading you back to your dorm with his hand on your lower back. "Put your stuff away and then come down with me. Let's eat breakfast together."

Alarm bells started ringing in your head. Eat? Now? With so much to do? How could you waste your time? But you couldn't make Regulus more suspicious of your behaviour.

You head down to the Great Hall with him, pulling at your sleeves as he placed all manner of pies and treats on your plate. You felt nauseated by the smell alone.

It didn't skip your notice how Regulus looked at you as if you were going to break at any second. Hell, he probably thought you already had.

You turned the corner off the path to head into the Forbidden Forest. If any of the Professors found you out here they'd give you a detention. That coincidentally would mean that you missed dinner. Two birds, one stone.

You set off on your run, keeping to the border of the forbidden forest, but deep enough in that no one would be able to see you without looking. You kept a steady pace - you were used to this routine. If you overate, you'd run until you felt exhausted and then you'd slip back into the dorm and skip dinner.

Except the snow was never normally this heavy and with every breath you exhaled a puff of smoke left your lungs. The inhales were almost painful, the cold air rough on your fragile lungs. You could hear your heart pounding in your head and your ears were starting to ring but you ploughed on.

What a mistake that was. You feel your foot slipping before you can even grab onto something. The next thing you know everything was black.

Regulus was worried. He'd paid close attention to your ever-deteriorating health, and he was worried, to say the least. After you'd run from lunch with him and Barty, he'd followed you back to the dorm. You hadn't even noticed him trailing you as you almost ran back to the common room. You'd slammed your dorm door shut and hadn't left for hours. You'd finally left when you thought no one was in the common room, dressed in some sweatpants and a jumper that was far too thin for this ghastly weather. He'd grabbed his own coat and a spare jacket for you, before following you through the hallways. He'd contemplated calling your name once, but clearly, there was something going on. And Regulus wanted to know what.

You'd slipped out of one of the doors to the courtyard and set off on a light jog down toward Hagrid's hut. That's odd, Regulus thought, you didn't have detention. Of course, it didn't pass his mind that you may just be running. After all, who would willingly go on a run in the middle of December in Scotland. Still, he watched as you ran down the steps that led to the now frost-covered pumpkin patches. Maybe you needed to collect something from him, he thought. Yes, that's probably it. Far more likely than Miss 'golden-girl' having a detention. Professor Kettleburn probably needed something and sent you to go get it.

His confusion only multiplied when you bypassed Hagrid's hut and disappeared into the thicket of the Forbidden Forest. Regulus picked up his pace, making sure that he wasn't caught as he followed your footsteps. He tried to keep up but you were always a faster runner than him, always making it to class on time even if you were both running late. He quickly lost you, having to resort to tracking your footsteps through the deep snow. He was ever more confused as to why you were out here - if anyone caught you here, you'd have a month's worth of evening detentions. Not the best way to start the year.

When he finally caught up to you, his heart dropped to his feet. You were lying face down in the snow, clothing soaked through. He knelt beside you, his hands running over your face as he softly called your name. Your skin was cold to the touch, causing Regulus to panic. He quickly bundled you up in the spare coat he brought with him. He removed the scarf from around his neck and wrapped it around yours, before tucking your hands into the pocket of the jacket.

He hoisted you up in his arms, wrapping his arms securely under your body. He slowly started walking back to the castle, being careful to avoid anyone seeing him leave the Forbidden Forest - the last thing he needed was the both of you getting in more trouble. He carried you through the hallways to the hospital wing, rapping his knuckles sharply against the window while you remained unconscious in his arms.

Madam Pomfrey was quick to open the door and, at the sight of your unconscious body, ushered you both inside, helping Regulus to lay you on one of the free beds. She laid a thick blanket over you and dug out a heating potion to dispel the chill from your bones. Regulus just sat by your side and held your hand. It was ice-cold as usual, but somehow Regulus never wanted to let go.

"...Mr. Black?" Madam Pomfrey asked, but Regulus had missed the question while he was staring at you. He looked up at her questioningly, silently asking her to repeat the question, "I said, will you get some dry clothes for her? I trust that you have something you can give her."

Regulus nodded dumbly, leaving the hospital wing before breaking into a run. He ran upstairs and pulled a sweater and some sweatpants for you. They would be big on you but hopefully, they would keep you from getting too cold. His heart was pounding as he returned to the hospital wing.

He diligently gave the jumper and sweatpants to Madam Pomfrey, before turning around so she could change your clothes modestly. It was nothing he hadn't seen before, he wanted to tell Madam Pomfrey, but somehow he was sure that she wouldn't appreciate that sentiment.

Once she was done and you were nestled under two layers of blankets and in clean clothes, Madam Pomfrey turned back to Regulus.

"Mr. Black, I'm going to have to collect a report from this accident from you, if you would so oblige."

"Uhh, of course, yeah. Um, well," Regulus prided himself on being a good liar, but under so much pressure, not so much. "We found a - uh - salamander on the fifth floor by the library when we were studying there earlier. She said she'd go tell Hagrid so she headed down to his hut. I wanted to find her to finish my essay before dinner so I headed down to see Hagrid, but then I found her lying in the snow."

Madam Pomfrey nodded, "Did Hagrid find out about the Salamander?"

Regulus nodded, "Yeah, one of the third years told him. I heard them talking about it while I was looking for her." It wasn't a total lie. Two third years had found a Salamander by the fifth-floor boys' toilets. They'd told Hagrid, and Regulus had overheard them talking about it.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, sealing away the report and filing it away. Regulus stood up to go back to the common room when Madam Pomfrey stopped him.

"She's incredibly thin, Mr. Black. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" Regulus shook his head, "It's worrying how underweight she is. You haven't noticed anything? Anything out of the ordinary?"

Regulus shook his head again before turning around to leave the hospital wing. He knew something was wrong. He just didn't know what.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you could feel was heat. You were warm. After months of being on the edge of freezing all the time, it was nice.

The second thing you noticed was the smell of cologne. A familiar cologne. Regulus' cologne. It was an expensive one - the Black family was rich and they weren't scared to show it off.

You opened your eyes slowly, grateful for the darkness. You looked towards the window to see that it was nighttime. You furrowed your brow in confusion. You could have sworn that it was just past lunch. You pushed yourself up further only to realise that you were in the hospital wing.

Before you could push yourself up even further, a voice interrupted you, "And just where do you think you're going, young lady?" Madam Pomfrey walked up to you with a glass of pumpkin juice in hand and two tablets. "You're dehydrated. And possibly have a concussion. You should be glad Mr. Black found you when he did."

Regulus found me? How the hell did he know where I was?

You took the pills from her hand and swallowed them down quickly. You savoured the taste of the Pumpkin Juice - it had been so long since you'd had the calorie-filled drink.

You turned to the door just in time to see Regulus walk in. It was as if he had exhaled for the first time seeing you awake. His shoulders dropped, his chest relaxed and all the tension in his face melted away.

He sat by your side gently, letting you finish the juice. Madam Pomfrey spoke up again, "Now, young lady, do you want to explain that nasty little fainting spell?" She said, her eyebrows raised as she scrutinised you.

"Uhh, well - I was - uh - walking down to Hagrid's hut, and - uh - my ears started ringing, and I think I fell." You said, your voice hoarse from disuse.

"And it has nothing to do with the fact that you are underweight?" Madam Pomfrey pressed.

"I've just been nauseous the last few days." You lied quickly, slightly recoiling under her heavy words, "I think it's stress but it might be a bug. I remember Pandora complaining about her stomach the night before she went home."

Madam Pomfrey seemed convinced. Regulus less so. As soon as Madam Pomfrey left, he turned to you.

"You lied." You shifted nervously under his intense gaze.

"I didn't. I have been nauseous all week."

"If you were nauseous, why were you on a run?"

"I thought the fresh air might help."

"Fresh air in the Forbidden Forest? Bullshit." Your heart dropped. He'd followed you there.

"Why did you follow me?"

"Why were you there alone? If I hadn't followed you and you'd fainted, you would have been dead by the time anyone found you."

"Oh, so I guess that means I should thank you now, should I? Oh, thank His Lordship, Mr. Black for saving my life, even thOUGH NO ONE ASKED HIM TOO!" You exclaimed, seething. You threw his hands off you and tried to push him away but he refused to budge.

"Stop being difficult," Regulus said, pulling the blankets back over your frail body.

"OH I'M BEING DIFF-"

"JUST TELL ME THE TRUTH!" He interrupted, his blue eyes blazing with fury. You could just about pick out the lingering concern that was embedded in his gaze. You saw red.

"GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! LEAVE ME ALONE!" You pushed Regulus away with every ounce of strength in your body. He fell off the chair, crashing to the ground in an undignified heap.

You watched, in horror at what you'd done, as he walked over to the door. He cast you a longing glance as he left, almost as if he was begging you, pleading you to let him in, to not shut him out. To let him help you.

You sighed. You weren't sure if you could be helped.

On Christmas Eve, Madam Pomfrey let you go back to your own bed, with the promise that you'd visit her every day so she could check up on you. Regulus hadn't visited since you told him to leave, and a small part of you was glad that he hadn't. The rest of you had missed him dearly.

You felt him walk up to you as you lounged on one of the sofas in front of the fire.

"Room for one more?" He asked hesitantly, standing in front of you. You shuffled to the edge of the sofa to give him room to sit down.

"So how are you?" He said, hands toying with his wand as he tried to avoid staring at you.

"We don't have to do this, Reg. Can we just let it go?" You sighed, hoping that you didn't have to get into this conversation right now.

"Yes, we do. Tell me, Canari, are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine, Reg." You both sat in awkward silence, not exactly knowing how to approach this conversation. "I'm gonna - uh - go. Now. Uh - bye."

You stood up, trying to escape into your dorm room, but Regulus beat you to it - blocking you with his body. It wasn't fair that he was almost a whole head taller than you.

"No, what's going on? Are you sick?" Regulus insisted, hands coming up to brush your arms. You shuddered at the gentle touch, but he still didn't pull away.

“Reg-”

“Canari.” he insisted. "Don't lie to me."

You took a deep breath. "I'm sick," you whispered quietly, but loud enough for Regulus to hear it.

He shifted on his feet, “What do you mean?”

You looked at him, noting the tears building up on his lash line. Regulus never cried. More than once, Barty had joked that the 'snowman didn't have a heart'. You shook your head, "It won’t make sense."

"Then help me understand."

You took a few breaths, trying to get your thoughts in order. Regulus led you back to the couch, his large warm hands covering your cold frail ones. You tried to get your thoughts in order, tried to figure out where to start. Well, it's probably best to start at the beginning. “I don’t know what happened. I was just supposed to lose a little weight. I started eating less, doing some muggle workouts. And it worked. But now - now, now I just can't stop." you finished.

Regulus' face contorted to one of concern. You avoided his gaze, your eyes filled with tears at finally revealing your secret. Regulus pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his chest. You nestled into them, your head of his heart as sobs started to wrack your body. Regulus held you tightly, whispering that it would be okay. He breathed deeply and steadily, hoping you would fall into rhythm with him.

Eventually, your heaving breaths slowed, and you began to calm down. After a few moments of silence, Bucky asked “How long has this been going on?”

"Since the summer break. But I think the problem's been going on a lot longer than that." You whispered into his chest, defeated.

Regulus took a deep breath, his mind relaying all the suspicious behaviour he'd picked up on over the past term. "Why didn’t you say anything?"

You shrugged weakly, "It wasn’t your problem."

You jostled in his lap as he turned you to face him. "Canari. Your problems are my problems. How many times do I have to tell you that I'm here? Because I want to be here. For you. I want to help, Canari. Please." You avoided his gaze because you knew what you'd find. Genuine concern. Something you weren't sure if you deserved. "You always help me or anyone else whenever we need it. Remember when Pandora had those nightmares for months and every night you'd hold her hand until she fell asleep? Or when Barty told us that he was afraid of the dark so you gave him an enchanted tea candle that would never go out? Hmm? If we were going through this, wouldn’t you want to help us?"

"Of course, I would," you said firmly, tears building up in your eyes again. You rubbed the way with the corner of your sleeve, but Regulus caught your hand.

"So why can’t you let me help you the same way?" he asked, his eyes shining with sincerity.

You shook your head lightly, "It’s not that simple, Reg."

"Why?"

"Because.”

"Because what?"

"It's just not the same," you said a little louder, pushing yourself off his lap. You had to put a distance between him and yourself, or you knew that you would break. You turned around heading in any direction that was not here, not in front of the only man capable of reducing you to tears.

"I don't get it. What’s the difference between me and you? Why can’t you-"

“Because I don’t HATE you!” you exclaimed, turning around to face him again. The pain in your eyes was evident as you tried to shrink further into yourself. Regulus was up in an instant, cradling your head in his hands as if you were a porcelain doll. You took a shuddering breath, "It’s not the same thing because I don’t hate you. I want to help you all, because you are good people, and I like you."

Tears streamed down your face as the confession spilled from your lips. You told him about everything, the loneliness, the self-loathing, the punishments, everything. Regulus stood there as you sobbed in his arms and confessed to him, taking every beating and tucking it away in the corner of his frozen heart that was reserved for you.

When you had finally settled, Regulus looked at you sadly. His gaze was heavy as if he was trying to see if there were any other secrets you were hiding. "Is that really how you feel about yourself?" he asked, saddened even more when you began nodding. "What did you do that was so wrong?"

You didn’t know. The loneliness that had plagued your childhood had melted into the insecurity that you didn't belong anywhere, and you never would. So slowly, you accepted that you never would. Your voice was weak when you spoke up again, "I'm sick, Reg. I know that. But I don't think this kind of sick can be healed by one of Madam Pomfrey's potions. People catch colds or break bones - those can be fixed. And once it's fixed, it won’t bother them again. But this," you gestured your body repeatedly, "this I don’t know if I fix. I don’t know how, I don’t know where to start. It’s me against me. It's a losing game. I’m not the kind of sick that gets better, Reg," you shrugged slightly and shook your head.

Regulus wrapped his arms around you tighter, "There's always a cure."

"Not for me."

"No. You're not giving up. YOU CAN'T FUCKING GIVE UP WHEN YOU HAVEN'T EVEN TRIED TO GET BETTER!" Regulus wasn't one to lose composure ever. In fact, Regulus wasn't one to show much emotion at all, but here he was, crying and yelling over you. Trying to convince you to get better. He tucked his chest into you, whispering, "Please. Please, you can't- you can't leave me here. Not alone, please, Canari."

You rested your face on his head, your cheek pressed against his beautiful curly hair. You stayed like that, you pulled into his lap, his head cocooned into your chest, your head laying on the top of his head. Both of you expended every last tear in your body before he spoke up again.

“Can I try to help?"

"Hmm?"

"I mean you want to get better? Right?" Regulus removed himself from your chest and looked into your eyes. His hands traveled to rest on your face. You nodded. "You can always talk to me about anything," You avoided his gaze, "you know that right?"

At the uncertain look on your face, Regulus stiffened. You quickly spoke up, "It’s not that I don’t trust you. I do, but-" You paused thinking how best to word this.

"Yes?"

"It’s just that I don’t want to disappoint you," you said, your voice trailing off as you spoke. "I don’t want to fuck up and end up hurting you because I couldn’t be better. I don’t want you to worry every bloody day. You don't deserve that." you took a deep breath and looked away again. "I don’t want you to leave because I couldn’t be strong for you."

"Is that really what you think I would do?" Regulus asked, his tone growing angrier. You cowered under his anger, and Regulus noticed. He tried to level his breathing as he continued, "I would never be disappointed with you, because you're trying your best. You said it: you're sick. And sometimes it takes time to heal. And you're healing for you, so that you can have a happy life. A long life." He paused, considering whether to add this next part, "No matter whether that life has me in it."

You leaned into him again, his arms wrapping you into a tight hug. Your life would always have Regulus in it, no matter how long, short, sick, or healthy it would end up being. Regulus made you promise to go back to Madam Pomfrey in the morning to tell her the whole truth.

"Promise you will be there the whole time?" you asked softly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, and exhaustion washed over you.

His arms tightened around you, "I promise. As long as you promise not to give up. Even when it gets hard."

You smiled your first proper smile in what felt like an age.

"I promise."

fin.

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