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madelynraemunson · 2 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲) 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 ✨ — a steve harrington one shot fic

modern!sperm donor!steve x modern!pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: It’s hard to find ‘forever’ in a world that glorifies hook-up culture. After multiple failed relationships, you start to believe that your dream of having a family someday will only be just that — a DREAM. That is until you stumble across The Baby Gate Foundation, a family planning organization that helps qualifying Strangers start families with one another.

disclaimers — fluff overload, strangers to friends to lovers, some angst, reader goes by “Honey”,

NSFW — very brief smut, p in v sex (unprotected), breeding kink, cream pie, soft!dom steve

word count — 6.0k words

“So… what’s your favorite color?”

It’s the most aggravating question to ask when wading in the Dating Pool — and unfortunately the most frequent. But you figure at least asking about Steve Harrington’s favorite color is a good ‘precursor question’ when trying to get to know him. After all, you are the one carrying his child.

“Cerulean,” the handsome stranger from across the table replies.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue.”

“You could’ve just said blue.”

“What’s the fun in that?”

You issue him a touché type nod as you gently place your folded hands over your growing bump…a bump that was a byproduct of an ordeal that he wasn’t even present to participate in.

Before you knew him as Steve Harrington, he was just Stranger #021 whose sperm donation gave you the gift of life. The gift of having a little one of your own.

And it was about time you started a family. It has been a dream of yours — once you bagged your dream job and got to travel the world — to get married and have kids. But apparently the person you spent 6 years with did not share that dream, despite having told you he did in the beginning stages of your partnership.

Are you crazy? How dare you think your ex wanted a family after he explicitly told you he wanted you to marry him and have his kids? Silly lady. You actually thought he meant what he said.

And Steve Harrington’s baby daddy application seemed impossible to resist. The Baby Gate Foundation disclosed to you that Stranger #021 has no physical ailments, was a star athlete in high school, isn’t a carrier for any chronic illnesses, and passed a mental health and drug clearance.

Your baby is very likely to come out healthy and, now that you’ve gotten a good general idea of the guy, will hopefully inherit Steve’s luscious chestnut brown hair, his radiant smile, sparkling eyes, and kind nature. A healthy baby. A healthy family. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“Your stomach feeling okay?” Steve inquires.

“Yeah,” you smile. “I just like touching it sometimes. It still doesn’t feel real.”

When selected, Steve jumped for joy. And you bet he started doing cartwheels when your pregnancy test came out positive. My dick still works! he remembers saying.

Having been a foster parent to many teenagers in the past, Steve also felt ready to have a kid of his own. But then his first long term girlfriend of three years cheated on him, and then his next long term girlfriend left him when she realized a family with him was not what she wanted. Steve was practically on the same boat as you. And the stars aligned…

“So I was thinking…when you’re in what’s considered a ‘safe’ point in your pregnancy, say second trimester… we can do cute pregnancy announcements,” Steve suggests.

Your eyes glimmer at the thought.

“As coparents of course!” Steve makes sure to add. “A-and then we can have a gender reveal. We can choose the theme and ideas for it later but I’m just thinking of an intimate cake cutting thing….pink frosting, obviously for girl…”

“And cerulean for boy,” you smirk at him, finishing his thought.

He chuckles at your comment. “Yes, cerulean for boy.”

You two then begin to brainstorm the minor details. Signing up for parenting classes. Check-up appointments. Your baby registry. Ironing out the details so that you both can relish in the pregnancy as much as possible.

When you’re done, Steve then pays for your lunch and you two go separate ways. But not before a long, grateful hug.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his ear. “You’ve made my dream come true.”

“I am just as indebted,” Steve insists, giving your back a loving rub. “I’ve always wanted to be a father.”

You decide to not let go until Steve breaks the hug. But little did you know that was Steve’s plan too. So you both stand there, in the middle of the mall food court swaying back and forth, waiting patiently for the other to let go because to be honest, you never know what a simple ‘I see you’ hug can do for somebody.

Finally, Steve pulls away.

“Listen, uh, Honey,” he says. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird because technically we don’t really know each other…but I already care about you so deeply. You’re the mother of my child. I want to be as involved as possible.”

“I care about you too Steve,” you beam at him. “And I feel like our healing journeys are coming to an end. I’m so excited to come together with another person who has the same goals in life.”

And that is all that’s said during that exchange. You hope that throughout your pregnancy, you and Steve can have more coparent dates to really get to know each other. You love that he feels safe and trustworthy, willing to put his all into the child that he, and many many medical experts helped you create. And you hope that as your baby grows up, you will find a lifelong partner like Steve someday.

“So how’d it go?”

You’re over at your best friend, Eddie’s apartment talking to him about your day. Eddie has been your best friend since middle school, bearing witness to every wonderful milestone — and tragedy — that has plagued your life ever since. Your decision to become a mother on your own, and coparenting with a stranger is no exception.

“I like him!” you exclaim. “He’s very sweet.”

“Do you trust him as your Baby Daddy?”

“If I didn’t, it’d be a little too late for that I’m afraid.”

Eddie would’ve been more than happy to be your donor, and without a doubt, you’d trust him in being fully present in the child’s life. However Eddie comes from a home with a turbulent family dynamic, and unfortunately is a carrier of the addiction gene along with many other illnesses. Eddie didn’t want to risk doing that to you or your family. So it works out that he and his boyfriend Henry are the ‘Fun Uncles’ or as he calls them “Funcles” instead, and Steve is the dad.

“But yeah I like Steve,” you circle back. “He’s funny, sweet, looks like he takes care of himself. Even paid for my food. Oh, and as a bonus, he uses big words.”

Eddie snorts as he strides over to the fridge. “He uses big words.”

“Yeah, like cerulean.”

Your bestie cocks an eyebrow and smirks at you. “What’s that?”

“It’s a type of blue,” you smirk back at him.

He releases a theatrical gasp. “Ground-breaking.”

Your banter is cut short when Eddie’s partner Henry walks through the door.

“Hello, hello.”

“Hey, Henry!”

You watch as the quiet, tall blonde dressed in dark-denim-tailored-to-fit struts in with a grocery bag, closing the door behind him with his foot.

“Hi, darlings.”

“Funcle Number Two,” Eddie greets his partner.

“I thought I was Number One.”

“You are,” Eddie shrugs. “In my heart. If you have an issue with your title and rank, I’d talk it up with Honey.”

“You can be Number One,” you grant him permission, eliciting a betrayed gasp from Eddie.

“Thank you, Honey,” Henry smirks, shooting a sassy look at Eddie.

Eddie issues a sour variation of that smirk to Henry, only to be met with a rough nudge to the ribcage. The two black cats then assemble to unload the groceries, all while focusing their attention back to you, their appointed ‘golden retriever’ of the bunch.

“Speaking of titles,” Henry adds. “How was your meeting with Daddy Steve?”

“It was wonderful,” you respond. “Was just telling Eddie how much I like him.”

Henry grimaces, understandably so. Your taste and judgment in men throughout the years have been nothing short of concerning. But because you didn’t willingly seek Steve out on a shady online dating app, at a dive bar at 2 AM, or on the dance floor of a sweaty small town nightclub, you figured you were in the clear.

“We’re gonna make it work no matter what,” you insist to your seemingly doubtful friends. “Even if there are discrepancies, we agreed it’s our kid before anything. And I’m ready. I told you guys myself that if I don't meet the love of my life by the time I'm 29, I'm having a baby by myself."

Aside from the two "Funcles", you have been the only consistent person in your life. And in this day and age, two people don't need to 'be together' to bring life into this world. And even if they are together, it’s not a happy home sometimes.

All that matters in this arrangement is that both of Baby Harrington’s parents are involved. That was Steve's promise to you.

Let's just hope he keeps it.

“That’s the head… and those…are your baby’s feet.”

You and Steve watch the monitor in awe as the sonographer scans your belly. You are now 20 weeks along, and doing a routine ultrasound check up.

First trimester was a nightmare. Constant nausea and vomiting so you’re not even sure that you’re stomaching those pre-natals, intense mood swings, and breast tenderness so bad you essentially begged Steve to just chop your tits off.

Regardless, you are healthy, and the baby is healthy. And now your camera roll is filled with pictures and videos of every frame of every ultrasound you get done, as well as audio recordings of Baby Harrington’s heartbeat. You and Steve even share your content amongst each other, just in case the other missed something that the other captured. It’s a wholesome exchange, really.

“Baby’s kicking a lot. Almost looks like they’re swimming in place,” the tech comments.

“I did swim and water polo in high school, could be why,” Steve explains.

You bat your eyes in adoration at your friend. He gives you a warm look back.

“Just like Daddy,” you say. And then Steve rests his palm atop your hand.

For the first time in a long time, everything feels complete.

“So, would you like to know the gender?” the sonographer inquires.

Immediately you and Steve bombard her with anxious-filled “No no no no”s. You decided to go with the cake gender reveal idea, and Henry and Eddie were in charge of having it made.

“We’d like for it to be a surprise,” Steve smiles. “But we sure would like an envelope with the gender in it. Honey’s gonna give it to her friends to give the baker.”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” the tech grins widely. “I will have it printed out for you shortly.”

She wipes your belly down so that there is no more ultrasound jelly on your stomach before leaving. Meanwhile, you and Steve are absolutely giddy. You are now halfway through your pregnancy and couldn’t wait to hold Baby Harrington in your arms.

But as exciting as everything is, it is also anxiety-inducing. No parenting book could ever prepare you for bringing a kid into the world. There was so much more that needed to be done. So much to do. And it seems like there was so very little time to do it.

Steve has another question for you. “When does the baby usually wake you up?”

“Baby’s a night owl, strangely,” you reply. “I’ll feel some moving and stuff at night.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head in thought.

“Man, I hope kid doesn’t wake you up at night too much when they’re born. That’d be god awful.”

“I know, I’ve been thinking of that too,” you groan. “And all the diaper changes I’ll probably have to do before putting them back to sleep. Ugh, I don’t even wanna think about diapers.”

You didn’t want to think about post-partum shit. So far, you’ve only been focused on pregnancy shit, and that shit is already overwhelming. While you seem well-equipped for pregnancy itself, the thought of actually being a fully-functioning parenting unit alongside Steve brings on a new set of fear.

Suddenly you and Steve look up at each other.

“Oh shit!” you shriek. “A crib! We need a crib! A stroller.”

“And a whole nursery,” he gulps. “And a baby monitor… A swaddle! A carrier!”

———

You and Steve are moved in together by the end of the month. Platonically, of course. With a capital P.

You both figured that raising the baby under one roof would be the healthiest way to approach your parenting situation. Both of you already get along really well and have similar communication styles. You two also have the same expectations from each other. And not every child is blessed with two parents living together in a happy home. It’s a luxury you both refused to take for granted.

So eventually the non-traditional-housewarming-slash-baby-shower-party rolls around, in efforts to help prepare for Baby Harrington’s arrival. It ends up being a huge success. Additionally, the party gave everyone a chance to mingle with one another, your friends meeting Steve’s friends and jokingly calling each other "in-laws". Robin and Eddie immediately grow very fond of each other, having deemed each other best friends after their third time meeting.

“How long do you give it?” Robin asks Eddie as they watch you and Steve work together to build the crib. “You know till they…”

They observe as you and Steve bicker back and forth about whether or not a section of the crib was installed the wrong way. You argue that it was, and Steve, still firm in his masculinity that he felt like was slowly chipping away (he can’t help it sometimes) insisted that it wasn’t.

“I know how to read, Honey. And besides, if it’s the wrong part, how did I screw it on perfectly?”

“I don’t know, Bob the Builder,” you fire back at him. “You didn’t have to 'screw it on perfectly' to get me pregnant.”

“Til that baby is born,” Eddie estimates.

Eddie chuckles at this. He’s been with Henry for many years, but you two have beat him at the argue-like-a-married couple thing. Slyly, he sips his beer.

“…The very latest.”

“Steve, I’m hungry. Wanna go to Rally’s?”

The cravings have officially kicked in (finally). But of course, it’s at the least convenient of times.

“Woman, it is 1 in the morning...”

“Yes, and I want Rally’s.”

You give Steve a light thunk on his fluffy head.

Now that you two live together, sleeping in the same bed was bound to happen eventually. But it is the least of your concerns. In a world where people go ‘ghost’ after getting what they want, laying your head down in the same bed as Steve is the farthest thing from intimacy. You’re also afraid of the dark, and being in his light calms your nerves.

Except for tonight. Where the only thing that’ll calm those nerves is a Wild West burger and some fries.

Steve huffs, clearly too tired to argue with your hungry ass. But also, you’re the mother of his child. You have the hardest job, and having a late night snack when you felt like it is the bare minimum of what you deserve.

“Let’s go.”

You smirk to yourself as you dance your way out of bed. Anything Baby Mama wants, Baby Mama gets.

Rally’s sure did the trick. When you and Steve return, you find yourself skipping back to the bedroom while Harrington fights to urge to plop onto the floor right by the entry way, his body’s natural response to a food coma, and the state of lethargy he was in from being stirred awake.

But as much as he valued his beauty sleep, he knows deep down he’d still do it again for you. Your little food dance was also pretty damn cute, anyways.

———

THE NEXT WEEK

You and Steve have been ordering way too much takeout. So tonight you decide to surprise him with a home-cooked meal. So while he’s at work, you’re searching Pinterest for healthy, savory dishes to cook. Chinese food it is. One can never go wrong with some chicken fried rice.

Steve comes home right when you finish.

“Oh my god,” Steve gawks as he enters the kitchen. “What smells so damn good?”

“I made dinner,” you smile gleefully, and with pride. “I have so much energy second trimester it’s insane. Hope you like Chinese.”

Steve slows down. Glancing around the chaotic kitchen, he takes in the array of sauces, the cutting board, and the multiple plates and bowls that most likely harbored the. Then he looks at you — a sweaty mess with stains on her apron from all the rice tossing. And he can tell, by your slightly labored breathing, that you’re gathering up all the energy you possibly can to powerwash all the dishes.

“You…made this for me?”

“Yeah! For us, actually. And the baby. I hope you’re okay with onions and scallions.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine with those,” he insists. “It’s just that…I have a date tonight.”

Suddenly the pots and pans feel so much heavier. The air, hotter. The onions, stronger judging by how tears start pooling at the base of your eyes. At least you want to blame it on those.

“Oh,” you sniff.

“I’m so sorry, Honey. I should’ve told you so you didn’t have to go out of your way.”

“It’s fine.”

Why do you feel this way? It’s not like you two are together anyway. This pregnancy is a partnership… platonic with a capital P. So why are you upset? And more importantly, why are you jealous?

“I-I’m sorry…” Steve panics. “I-it’s just that we’ve been getting takeout all week and I thought it’d be the same toni-”

“It’s okay, Steve.”

“That came out so bad, I…”

“I know what you mean,” you shake your head shutting him down immediately. “Have fun tonight, okay?”

“You’re crying…”

“I was chopping onions,” you point out.

You nod to the bag of onions that were yet to be put away. There was a lot left to be put away actually, and you were kind of hoping Steve would help. But clearly he’s a busy man.

“And it’s probably just the stupid pregnancy hormones too,” you add.

“They’re NOT stupid,” Steve insists. “And you just said you have so much energy. You were bursting with light just a moment ago…before I killed it.”

“Have fun tonight, Steve,” you repeat.

You head over to the wok and scoop out a serving for two: one serving for you, and one for the baby. Dad will get the leftovers, you suppose.

Steve watches you intently. You can feel his stare even with your back turned. Suddenly, you hear the faint dial tone of his cell phone ringing a couple of times before someone answers.

“Hey…Lacey, I can’t come tonight,” Steve sighs. “I’m really sorry for being so last minute. A family emergency came up.”

You look back over at him. He makes sure to look you in the eyes as he says ‘family’.

The two of them talk some more before Steve hangs up the phone. Awkwardly now, you chew softly at the rice you made.

“Well she definitely hates me,” Steve chuckles. “But I don’t care.”

“Steve…” you speak. “You didn’t have to.”

“You’re carrying my kid,” Steve looks at you with glimmering eyes. “I can’t be running through the town in the arms of another woman. This pregnancy is a team effort.”

He glides over you and stops right where your hips meet. You timidly manage to look up at him, tear-jerked, all sweaty, and very very pregnant. And after Steve tucks a loose strand of hair behind the blushing cartilage of your ear, he presses his tender lips against your forehead.

“For the baby,” he whispers to you.

“For the baby,” you repeat after him.

The day is here.

The gender reveal, that is. You didn’t expect finding out something as simple as having a boy or girl was going to be this nerve wracking. And to think some people do this in front of a huge audience.

“Okay…” you exhale unevenly. “You ready?”

“Only if you are,” Steve nods, but his trembling hands betray him.

“Hand me a glass.”

Steve hands you one of the two wine glasses you brought for the intimate picnic you had planned for today. On the count of three, you two were to dig those very glasses into the cake and scoop out the long awaited answer.

SWEET CHILD O MINE, the cake reads. Boy or girl?

Henry and Eddie settled for a Rock-N-Roll inspired cake, with self-indulgent black and red buttercream on the outside, and the pre-determined blue or pink on the inside. You were afraid that it was going to be a little too edgy for Steve, but he assures you the aesthetic of a cake is the least of his priorities.

Drawing out an uneven breath now, you decide to start counting down.

“One…” you gulp.

“Two…” Steve joins in.

But you can't bring yourself to say ‘three’. Shutting your eyes closed in a bout of nervousness, you mutter softly,

"Two and a half..."

It earns you a chuckle from Steve. Knowing just how to calm you down, like he had been doing all pregnancy, he offers you his available hand to squeeze if you needed.

“Three!” you two finally say together.

Plunging your wine glasses into the cake, you and Steve gather one big scoop each while your eyes drift elsewhere.

“I can’t look,” you choke, sniffing back a tear or two.

“I can’t either,” Steve exhales, evidently nervous. “You can look first though.”

“No, I’ll look when you do.”

You’re met with messy dough and frosting in the glass at first. But after trailing after the inside part of the cake, you catch sight of the fluffy frosting that was buried beneath. A bright, eye-catching, pastel....

...cerulean blue. A baby boy.

“Oh…my…god,” your hand trembles in complete shock. “It’s a boy…”

“Oh my god, baby!” Steve sniffs going in to hug you. “We’re having a boy…”

And then it happens. Unable to contain himself from his joy any longer, Steve cups your face with his frosting-laced fingers, connecting his lips passionately to yours, and you with him.

It’s the best day of Steve’s life. You are the reason that he gets to live out his dream of becoming a dad. And now that you two are having a son, all he can imagine is teaching the kid how to throw a football in the backyard, signing him up for T-Ball and Boy Scouts (just like his dad once did with him), and taking him and his buddies out on silly, fun-filled rag-tag group adventures.

And knowing how strange and daunting the world can be, Steve already maps out how to raise your child morally, encouraging him to always treat others with kindness, to be a friend to all, to always lend a helping hand whenever the situation calls on it. And to respect women…because after all, everybody came from one. And Steve knows that he struck gold, considering the fact that he views you as an absolute queen.

You kiss King Steve back, humming in awe because of how natural his energy feels against yours.

It all feels very natural. Makes you feel like you’ve known him your entire life.

Your eyes widen in shock as you two look at each other, both stunned that a kiss was both of your initial, seemingly ‘platonic’, response to the news.

"Is it just me or is it just now hitting?" Steve questions. "We're having a kid together."

"It's just now hitting me too," you agree, the double meaning tugging aggressively at your heartstrings. "We're really doing this, Stevie."

“Our son.”

———

“What happens when one of us finds somebody?”

It’s a talk you and Steve were due for eventually. But Steve is just as unsure, looking over at your pregnant silhouette standing at the foot of the doorway.

But with how beautiful you looked standing at the doorway, your silk, maternity night gown hugging all the beautiful curves of your body while you rubbed your belly that housed your very active kicker, Steve wasn’t even sure if he’d ever want to find somebody else.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he ends up saying.

He makes his way over to you, wrapping his gentle arms around your waistline, emitting his ever-growing love for you and the baby you two share.

“But if one thing's for sure, it's our son. Baby Harrington first. Before anything.”

“Baby before anything," you repeat the promise.

Steve’s lips graze your skin once again, an invitation and incentive to join him in bed — nuzzled up in the sheets and his warmth — so the two of you can soak in all the rest you possibly can before Baby Boy makes his entrance into the world.

Some bridges aren’t meant for crossing. Sometimes settling is the best option. And you don’t mind settling down. Because here, in Steve’s arms, it feels like home.

WEEK 38

An involuntary rush in your lower extremity stirs you awake. When you feel around to push the sheets aside and hobble to the bathroom, you’re stunned to discover your nightgown had become a raft, and that you’re laying atop your own unscented secretions. And you know it’s not piss. So if you didn’t pee…

Oh no, it’s happening.

You begin to panic.

“Steve!” you hiss, sitting up and pushing your partner awake. “HEY! Harrington!”

“Huh?” Steve mumbles, still half asleep.

“Get the hospital bag.”

“What?”

“Get the hospital bag, dingus. My water just broke.”

He shoots up. Still relatively disoriented, but now also horrified.

“W-what? Are you sure?! Does this… A-are you about to…”

“Yes! Grab the bag and start the car. He’s coming RIGHT NOW.”

While you slowly sit up to get your shoes and a robe on, Steve scurries to the car with your overnight L&D bag and purse in his arms. You reach over to grab your phone and charger, dialing up Eddie in the process.

It rings for a long time before he picks up.

“Honey, it’s 4 AM, what do you want?” Eddie grumbles.

“It’s time, Eds,” you sniff happily. “The baby is coming.”

The line is silent for a couple seconds, and for a while it’s like you can hear Eddie connecting the dots in his head. Alas, he speaks.

“HO-LY SHIT!”

*Click*. The line disconnects.

Steve holds your hand through it all. From checking into Labor and Delivery, to moving to your room, to breathing exercises with your bedside doula, check-ins with your midwife, and throughout the entire birthing process.

Not only is he nervous out of his mind, but he thinks you’re so beautiful.

"You know," Steve says in attempts to soothe you. "When I came out the womb, the nurse yelled "Oh my gosh! That's a lot of hair on a baby!"

You're too fixated on your breathing exercises to fully appreciate Steve's story. But you understand his sweet gesture, so you stroke his thumb with your thumb to let him know you're listening.

“I guess I had double the amount of hair than a usual newborn,” he continues. “And all the nurses were crowding around to get a good— OW OW OW! Watch the hand, watch the hand.”

The sudden level 9 contraction that shot through your entire stomach, causing you to scream in agony and beg for the epidural.

"JESUS, FUCK GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME!" you plead desperately.

Steve kisses you softly on the forehead before going in to stroke your, very sweaty, hair. He was not going to leave your side. Not now, not ever. This baby — and you — are the best things to ever happen to him.

Thanks to yours and Steve's mindful prep, the birthing process was a smooth one compared to others.

But still pretty painful, nonetheless. For you, for Steve, for everybody involved.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," Eddie sputters as he and Henry rush onto the unit with the baby's carseat and other miscellaneous belongings in their hands. "It's happening, it's happening. He's almost here!"

"I wonder," Henry pants, doing his best to keep up with his boyfriend. "If she experienced the Ring of Fire yet."

"What's the Ring of Fire?" Eddie questions him.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" your tumultuous screams sound down the hall directly from your room. Anyone would've thought someone was getting murdered in there, had it not been a hospital unit strictly for childbirth.

"That," Henry answers him.

---

"You're almost there, baby," Steve encourages you. "Keep pushing."

The epidural had finally kicked in and now all you had to focus on was pushing.

“I see the head, Mama,” your midwife announces, rubbing your knee as you’re struggling to push. “Keep going, keep going! Couple more for me.”

“FUCK!” you cry out doing your best to contract those muscles.

“There we go…” Steve soothes you as he strokes your hair. “Doing AMAZING, baby. That’s it…”

He strokes your thumb with his, a helpless look in his eyes as he watches you struggle. It’s clear that Steve doesn’t know what else he could possibly do for you, but he attempts to mask that belief. He couldn’t wait to spoil you afterwards. It’s what you deserve.

“Few more pushes, Honey,” your nurse says again. “He’s almost out. We got his shoulders now.”

“Oh god I’m gonna faint,” Steve says, evidently growing dizzy.

“Can someone get a wet towel for Dad?!” another nurse calls out. “And maybe some juice?”

“PUSH, PUSH!”

“PUSH, Honey!”

“ALMOST THERE, MAMA!”

“I can’t,” you cry out. “I can’t anymore.”

“You can do it, baby,” Steve encourages you, pelting the back of your hand with endearing kisses. “You’re doing such a good job, I’m so proud of you…”

Before you know it, the air of the hospital room fills with tiny belted cries, followed by relieved and adorn coos as the nurse catches your baby.

“0507, time of birth!"

“Oh my god,” Steve wails in excitement. “Oh my god, he’s here he’s out. We have a baby! You did it, Honey!”

Too exhausted to say anything you simply fall back, taking a few deep breaths in relief. It’s over, the baby is here. And he is healthy.

You feel a sloppy kiss land on your cheek. Steve ruffles your hair when you look his way.

“You did it, Honey.”

Everything happens so fast after that.

From what you hear, Steve was the one who cut the umbilical cord — and he was very adamant about having the pictures to prove it. The baby was then weighed and bathed, all the hospital data was gathered with permission granted by Steve.

And soon, after an eternity, your son is swaddled and soon returned back to you and ‘Dad’.

"Oh wow!" a nurse remarks. "This baby has a whole lotta hair!"

You and Steve immediately look to each other and burst out laughing. Just like his Daddy...

———

“How does that feel, Steve?” you ask him, eyes fixated on the absolute DILF in front of you.

“Amazing,” he coos. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

When all needs were attended to, it was finally time for ‘skin to skin’. You didn’t think it’d be possible to be both sexy and wholesome at the same time — until you saw Steve cradling your newborn, pressing him tenderly against his exposed chest so that their hearts can beat as one.

“Hi little man,” he sniffs. “I’m your daddy.”

A single tear falls from his face and splashes onto the blanket that your son was cocooned in. Steve pulls him in closer and kisses him softly on the forehead.

“I’m your daddy,” he repeats.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted. Steve’s legacy is about to begin and it’s all thanks to you. And from your hospital bed as you recover, you are able to snap some pictures of the two loves of your life, the first photos of many, of the family photo albums.

“Ugh, when did Steve get so hairy?” Lucas wonders as he sneaks a gaze into the hospital room.

“Right?” Dustin agrees, joining him beside the doorway. “I told him he needs to tame that jungle but he claims the ladies dig it.”

“I mean, look at Honey,” Lucas points out. She seems to like it and Steve knocked her up.”

“True but it wasn’t organic, you idiot,” Max mutters.

Love pours in from every wing of the unit. Soon all your family and friends start to arrive, as well as Steve’s family and friends. You’re spoiled with ‘congratulations’ signs, and postpartum care packages, and an array of foods that you couldn’t eat while pregnant (i.e. sushi, deli sandwiches).

And with your approval, Steve comes out of the hospital room, ready — and proud — to showcase your baby to the entire world.

“Everyone, there’s someone we’d like for you to meet,” Steve says, keeping his voice at a low murmur. “This is Benjamin Dean Harrington. Benny for short.”

You and Steve end up taking parental leave at the same time.

Your entire day-to-day consists of loving on and spending quality time with Benny. The diaper changes, the cuddles, the nursery rhymes, and everything in between. It’s impossible to think you’ll ever get tired of it. You and Steve have officially transitioned to Mom & Dad Mode.

Until Benny goes to sleep.

As the golden sun peaks in through the cream colored blinds, you feel Steve’s hand trail down your back and down to your ass to grab it. Releasing a soft moan, you lean into his touch, shifting your weight to one side of the mattress.

“Baby…” he moans into you.

“Should we?” your eyes twinkle. “The baby’s asleep…”

He chuckles into your neck, raspy voice sure to be the end of you if he kept teasing you any longer.

“‘m scared I’ll hurt you.”

“I’ll let you know,” you barter. “I feel ready.”

———

“Fuck, right there, Steve…”

You grip the sheets tightly as Steve rolls his hips into you, his strokes a delicious mix of pleasure and a challenging stretch. And as you bite into your pillow, your eyes rolling up towards the sky, he maintains the pace you love so much, drilling you in, simultaneously massaging your clit while his quenched lips tenderly suction themselves to the crook of you neck.

It’s your first time together, but it feels like you two have done this before. Your bodies are naturally in sync, knowing where your boundaries lie without needing any cues, and knowing exactly how far you both can take it. Daddy Steve, being the gentleman he is, has your entire body mapped out.

“God I love it,” your overstimulated self whimpers, chest to your chin, ankles dangling off of Steve’s broad shoulders as he rails you.

“Oh, I bet you do, Honey.”

His large hand encloses around your neck, thumb hovering over your lips as he fawns over your mewling, vulnerable body.

“You want my cum, baby?” Steve asks. “Want me to fill you to the brim huh? You wanna have my babies?”

“Yes, I want your babies, Steve,” you moan. “Want all of them.”

And as an orgasm spills out of you, Steve’s spills in, coating you with his warm release as you both unravel in the sheets.

“Holy shit, that felt so good,” you whisper, nuzzling your head against his chest. Steve grins from ear to ear when you kiss him on the chin. “Thank you for making me feel so safe and loved.”

“Well when you’re you Honey, you make it so easy,” he blushes.

Steve rests his hands on your ass again, giving it a faint smack. You bite your lip as he pulls you even closer to him. And as the sun sets, you know round two is on the horizon.

“Anyways, when ARE we having another one?”

———

author’s note: i’m noticing some themes with the way i write eddie smut vs steve smut. i totally write eddie as a rough dom and steve is def a soft dom. not complaining tho, those are my headcannons for them 🤭

divider creds: @silkholland , @elfbar-baby

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roturo · 10 months

Text

COOL WITH YOU - gojo satoru x f!reader - + 4.5k words

summary: You never though throwing chocolate milk would lead you to being enemies with the popular guy at school, which led you into even a crazier situation.

warnings: smut; unprotected sex, cock warming, dacryphilia, pussy slapping, mating press, finger sucking, oral (f!receiving), marking, degradation kink, slut shaming, edging, teasing, sexual tension, overstimulation. Enemies into idk into lovers. UniversityAU, popular student!gojo satoru, fluff.

TUMBLR IS BASED ON A REBLOG SYSTEM. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK.

It was a really nice day, really.

Nothing out of the extraordinary, normal classes, normal notes, everything was going great! Nice weather, and even your hair was having a good day!, but lunch time had to come.

You were walking through the cafeteria looking for the table you and your friends usually sit at. Walking with your tray through other people, you were about to make it, until you stumbled and say stumbled for crashed into an almost 2 meter man, food flying everywhere, and if that wasn't enough, your choco milk made a mess on his white t-shirt.

WHY DOESN'T HE WEAR THE COMPLETE UNIFORM?

You felt all the possible stares into you, couldn't even see with who you crashed, way too embarrassed for it. Mumbling a lot of 'sorry, i'm going to pay it for you' 'I can wash it for you, i'm so sorry.' 'I'll buy you a new one.' You finally looked up and saw who it was.

Gojo Satoru. The popular guy in school. Might not be the smartest, but he has good grades. Not much of a troublemaker (he is), has dated at-least half of the girls in this school, and someway he still has a line of girls waiting for his turn.

He was next his best-friend. Suguru Geto, smartest guy in your class, he's more peaceful, just watches from a distance, a cute smirk, hasn't dated half of the girls in school, but still has a long line of girls waiting for a chance.

Your face flushed with embarrassment as she saw that the dark liquid from your spilled bottle had stained his pristine white shirt. Gojo's expression was anything but pleased, and he snapped at you, "Watch where you're going dumbass!"

You tried to apologize, but Gojo had clearly made up his mind about you. From that day on, Gojo wouldn't miss any chance to humiliate you just like you did that day in the cafeteria.

He wouldn't let go of that day, calling you all types of nicknames related to it. ¨Milkie¨ ¨Choco-latte¨ and much more. Mostly throwing your books you had in your arms walking through the halls, always putting milk on your desk when recess was done.

He would often challenge you with difficult questions in class, and you would slowly find yourself doing the same. Days went over and you were now annoyed at his behavior. Who does he think he is? He couldn't treat people like he wanted to!

¨Can you stop?¨ Utahime stopped eating, dramatically putting the fork down. ¨Stop what?¨

¨Stop looking at fucking Gojo Satoru! It’s been like two months and you’re still annoyed at him.¨

Oh god. He's looking back at your table, Utahime said it loud enough so half of the cafeteria could hear. Feeling your face growing hot you looked back at your friend, her face showing how unbothered she is by the annoyed side-eyes you guys were receiving.

¨It's like you got obsessed with him or something! All you do is talk about him, how angry you are about him, how he did this, how he did that, do you like HIM or what?¨

¨Of course NO! I don't like Gojo-...¨

A small cough interrupted the small discussion you were having, looking up for the person who annoyingly stopped you trying to justify why you don't like the Gojo Satoru, was in fact, the Gojo Satoru.

He was standing in all glory in front of your table with his best friend, Geto, which seemed kinda unbothered with this whole ordeal.

You looked like a little kid being caught trying to grab another candy from the bowl after he got his daily one... which made Gojo chuckle.

How cute.

¨I'm sorry ladies for interrupting your chat, but me, and my friend Geto Suguru, wanted to invite you to our upcoming party this weekend. Right Suguru?¨ He nudged Geto, with his annoying smirk, at what Geto just nodded.

You were about to deny the offer, saying you’re not one of his easy girls to smash with, but Utahime was faster than you and said yes to the invitation and lent her phone so they could send her the place and time.

Oh, well, fuck.

Utahime greeted you into her house with her radiant smile, her eyes shining with mischief. "I would’ve killed you if you didn’t come!" she exclaimed, pulling you into her room. "Tonight, you’re going to have a great fuck and forget that annoying asshole!" You rolled your eyes because of her assumption of you liking Gojo.

Utahime couldn't resist the thrill of the invitation, saying it’s ¨an event you have to live at least once at uni.¨ You spent hours preparing yourselves. Mostly, Utahime carefully choosing the perfect outfit and a dash of confidence to match.

You and Utahime arrived at the party, the room buzzed with laughter, music, and vibrant conversations. You’ve been spending the whole night thinking of a way to take revenge on Gojo, and show Utahime proof you don’t like him. You have tried plenty of ways; winning at sports games, not a surprise he’s better than you, but it still pisses you off how irritating he is. You also tried beating him at exams, which somehow you did beat him on them, but somehow he gets more acknowledgment about having a 9 than you having a 10?

Does he fuck the teacher too?

Fuck.

Fuck…

Fuck!

That’s what you need! To fuck Gojo Satoru.

…

Not in that way…

Well, yes. But not him fucking you. You fucking him.

His whole ego is based on how every girl likes him, so… what if you do what he does to the other girls?

Geto greeted the both of you with a smile, offering you something to drink, which you denied, contrary to Utahime. You were having a small chat with your friend and a friend of hers, she was really nice, short haired, not that tall but not that short, she's a friend of Satoru & Suguru apparently… a pretty smile adorning her face while talking with Utahime, her name was Shoko.

And Shoko is really fun, really, but you couldn’t stop from distracting yourself, eyes following the tall frame, going from girl to girl all around the house. It infuriated you how they could be so clueless of the man they’re talking with.

You decided you needed to distract yourself and stop focusing on what he’s doing. Entering the kitchen was really calm, two people chatting while drinking. Preparing yourself a drink, you felt a small push in your shoulder, and it’s like destiny made you to never stop thinking about him, since somehow he was always there.

¨Oops, didn’t see you there.¨ His stupid face, with his stupid smirk.

¨Can’t stop disturbing me for one minute in your entire life?!¨

¨Me? Disturb you? You’re the one who won't stop looking at the other like some obsessed stalker!¨

¨Well, it’s not my fault you keep fooling those girls thinking if they let you fuck them they will be with you at least more than a week before you get bored!¨

He laughed at you, which only made you even angrier. ¨Are you jealous or what?¨

¨I’m not jealous- … don’t. Don’t you dare look at me that way.¨

¨What way?¨

¨Like you want to fuck me.¨

The tension in the room grew stronger, his stupid eyes were having pleasure watching you being angry at him being with other girls. You’re really pretty too, he never took the time to realize that. Maybe it's your fault because of the grembling face you put when you’re around him.

Thank god Suguru came into the room giving you a way out of this situation, calling for Satoru and you.

¨Hey, we need both of you to help us with something back there, Utahime and Shoko are there also. Utahime is really nice, but uhh… she might gotten a little too much drunk…¨

"Do we have to bring her?¨ Gojo said, pointing back at you with his thumb, not even looking at you, just at Geto. ¨You know I hate her."

¨Yes Satoru, it’s her friend who we are talking about.¨

"I'm standing right here, you know..."

"I know." You were about to hit Satoru if it wasn’t that Geto didn’t grab the both of you by the wrist and started walking away.

After leaving a very drunk Utahime in Geto’s room, Shoko staying with her, the two other boys (Most like Geto) invited you to go for some midnight ice-cream around the corner, at which, you had nothing to do, so you accepted the offer, who wouldn’t want ice-cream for free?

The three of you got your ice-cream, you were with Satoru while Suguru was paying for them.

¨Your ice cream looks delicious, let me try.¨

¨We have the exact same ice cream, for god’s sake!¨ Satoru was faster than you and gave a big bite (with no teeth) to your ice-cream, you grumbled at his stubbornness.

¨Hey, no fair! You have more sprinkles than mine!¨ You looked up at his face, finding ice-cream all around his lips. Unconsciously your hand caressed his cheek and with your thumb, you wiped the ice-cream off his mouth. Your finger resting on his lower lip, he slightly opened his mouth giving enough space for your thumb to enter, which it did. His tongue swirled around it, savoring the ice-cream he stole from you. Your eyes never left his and vice versa. His cheeks were slightly pink, his eyes were now a darker shade of blue thanks to his dilated pupils.

His hands found a way to lock between your waist, making you get closer to him. Your thumb left his mouth and slowly got into his chest. He smiled at you. A genuine smile from him. Not an evil trace on it. His eyes squinted a little, which made you also smile.

¨Can y’all believe the old man wanted me to pay for an extra ice-cream we didn’t buy? I stayed like 10 min more trying to explain him we only bought 3.¨

Your face turned pale, as fast as you could, you pushed yourself out of Gojo’s embrace, he awkwardly coughed fixing his hair.

¨Are you guys okay?¨ Suguru looked confused but then looked at you and your melted ice-cream.

¨Oh shit. It melted. Your eyes locked with Satoru for a moment and moved on to the melted ice-cream. Did that really happen?

A week passed and Gojo couldn’t get you off his mind. The moment replaying every day, the feeling of your hand on his cheek never leaving. He was going crazy.

Ever since Utahime and Shoko got closer, that meant hanging out as a group. It somehow got better? Gojo stopped with the bitterness and the hate towards you, it turned more into teasing?, it’s like he’s been feeling cool with you?

It even turned into the both of you teasing each-other light heartly, it was fun.

During a late-night study session at Shoko’s, you and Gojo got into argument from some science topic, you could sense the others were annoyed at the unnecessary pause of studying, leading them into grabbing their phones to go through social media, going for water, or even just start making small drabbles of drawings, knowing they couldn’t do anything about the both of you arguing because of your stubbornness.

Until Utahime snapped, ¨Oh my god, can the both of you just fuck so the tension could leave?!¨ that left the both of you speechless and blankly looking at eachother, red invaded eachother’s face because of how things turned out and how others point of view of the type of relationship the two of you have.

...

... Your walk home was… awkward but nice?

¨Listen. It’s nearing midnight and you're a female walking the streets alone, at least let me walk you home? As much as you annoy me I’d rather you not get murdered¨ You take in his words slowly nodding in agreement as you cross your arms, ¨fine.. nice to hear that you don’t want me dead.¨

So that’s how the both of you ended walking together to your house. It was a weird bonding experience you didn’t think you needed.

¨Wow you can actually be a sweetheart this time, what happened to the boy who was arguing with me today is pluto is still considered a planet?¨

You say lightheartedly but turn to glare in his direction anyway, watching as he rubs the back of his neck with a chuckle.

¨Yeah that was pretty immature. to be fair we’re just as bad as each other ̈

You nodded in agreement it really is a game of back and forth trying to outdo each other. You felt a sudden wetness on your face sticking your hand out and watching as your palms filled with water capturing the rain droplets within, the rain poured without any mercy but thankfully you could see your house just a little down the street, with the nice moment you were having with Gojo you bravely grabbed his hand with a giggle making a bolt towards your house, to your surprise Gojo tightened his grip running beside you as the rain soaked you both.

Catching your breaths as you stood on your porch, sheltering yourselves from the rain, breathlessly laughing as you straightened yourself looking up at Gojo who was just as drenched.

¨Who saw that coming?¨ He smiles pulling lightly on your hand that still stayed secured in his, you were only inches away from each other but the cool breeze and crackling of the thunder held a mysterious mood that drew you into him.

In what should have been forbidden your lips touched, tasting the water that ran along your face seeping into your mouth as you reconnected with Gojo’s pretty lips, it didn’t last long as a large gust of wind interrupted causing you to shiver and unintentionally find comfort in Gojo, pressing against his chest. You could feel his hand rubbing gently against your upper back as he stared down calmly, you finally pulled away from him jiggling with your front door and popping it open with just a twist of your key, frowning your eyebrows slightly as you turn to look at the soaking wet boy again watching him turn towards the rain and stepping closer as if he was about to make a run for it.

¨You don’t have to leave.. it looks pretty hectic out there, i can dry your clothes and you can leave when it’s safer, if that’s what you want?¨ Gojo seemed conflicted a hint of hesitation could be seen but his expression was mostly unreadable, he took one last look out towards the street before turning on his heels, walking into your house with a smile, ¨That seems like a better idea.. thanks.¨

You really didn’t know what you were thinking letting Gojo into your house but it felt right, ¨Your... hoodie¨, you say holding your hand out towards him.¨I can put it in the dryer¨ Gojo paused for a moment looking down, his lips shaping into a straight line as his cheeks puffed out. ¨I’m not wearing an undershirt¨ You let out a light oh before making your way into the laundry room, ¨here! You can throw a towel over yourself if you feel uncomfortable!¨ You yell out to him, turning around to be greeted with Gojo’s bare chest, ¨It’s fine I don’t need a towel¨ He plainly says handing you his hoodie, you quickly nod taking it and heading over to the dryer.

¨What about my pants?¨ You hear him say as you open the lid. ¨What about them?¨ You question turning around to see his slightly wet jeans, ¨They’re not that wet but I can do them too.. got that towel?¨, Gojo let’s out a chuckle unzipping his jeans.

¨I’m not going to be naked, I do have underwear on after all, do you want me to wear a towel?¨ You went silent slowly extending your arm and making a gimme motion with your hand, ¨I don’t care it’s your decision¨, you say sounding a bit flustered, looking away nervously Gojo stripped himself of his jeans leaving him in his underwear. You throw his clothes into the dryer freezing suddenly before closing the lid, realising your own saturated clothes as you played with the hem of your shirt, “fuck it”, you whispered ripping your top from over your head, your pants following in hot pursuit letting them join in with Gojo’s clothes.

The dryer light blinked on watching as the session started not daring to turn around as you knew Gojo was still very much present, feeling a sense of embarrassment as you stood away from him semi nude, the only thing you didn’t know is that he was much closer than you thought feeling his hand smooth over your arm a slight tingling sensation could be felt as he pressed up against your bare back, ¨Aren’t you cold?¨, he said sliding his mouth near your ear, you slowly nodded feeling your words getting stuck in your throat, ¨I mean no, not really¨ You crackled out quickly correcting yourself, your whole body was heating up as the butterflies in your stomach did multiple backflips, ¨Well I am baby¨, you let out a rigid breath feeling your pussy contract within itself at the sudden nickname, you had no idea he could make you feel this way, ¨How are you gonna get warm?¨ You softly breathe out goosebumps arising from your skin as Gojo rubbed up and down your sides placing a few kisses against your neck, ¨I have an idea if you’d spread your legs a little?¨ You obeyed his words like a dog, running on your own horny adrenaline.

¨Are you okay with this?¨ You nodded, feelin his fingers come in contact with your pussy pushing your panties to the side as he swiped his pointer finger through your folds, he stopped clutching his hands roughly on your hips, his forehead laying on your shoulder blade.

¨How? You’re so wet, I barely even touches you.¨ Gojo said sensually pulling your hips towards him as he rubbed his hard against your ass, ¨I thought I’d have to do a little more but I think this is enough.. ready?¨

He kissed up your back adjusting himself a bit, ¨Ready?... for what?-¨, You struggled to say the last syllables as Gojo pushed the tip of his cock into you wrapping an arm around your waist and the other holding onto the dryer in front of you, pulling you upwards so he can angle your entrance just right so he can fully fit into you comfortably.

A gasp escaped you quickly holding onto the side of his thigh as he stayed still, the feeling of his long cock deep inside you made you wriggle pulling your heat away from him as he replants himself, the heat off Gojo’s chest and stomach burned into your back, ¨Now that’s warm¨, Gojo spoke, ¨And it’s tight too¨, He slightly giggled out resting his head on your shoulder.

¨Is it uncomfortable?¨ He quietly spoke in concernment Gojo’s worries fading as he finally feels you melting into him, ¨No it’s good¨ You say sheepishly feeling the slight shake of his arm as he continued to hold onto the dryer, another kiss being littered against your upper back upon hearing you.

It’s beyond weird getting this intimate with him but there always was some lingering sexual tension though. Nothing is really happening as you both stood in silence while Gojo kissed your body, leaving hickeys everywhere. Your body temperatures rising quickly but soon you started to feel Gojo’s movements, he awkwardly pumped himself into you stopping and starting his motions as he fought his urges, ¨Satoru?... If you’re going to fuck me just do it, this is nice and all but I know what we both want¨

You say trying to look at the boy who was still resting his head on your shoulder, you saw him perk up displaying a gummy like smile, ¨If that’s what you want who am I to deny you?¨

He jolted you forward banging you flat against the dryer giving you a sharp thrust as he grabbed a hold of your hair, bringing you back so he could kiss you, ¨You really want your enemy fucking you? Want everyone to know how of a cockslut you are? That Utahime was right? filthy.¨

You hum in pleasurable agreement a cheeky giggle escaping you as Gojo tilts your head to the side giving himself access to your neck, ¨Enemy? Do you really want to be calling yourself that when you started this? I think you’ve always wanted to do this, you love me¨ You say daringly, feeling incredibly unsatisfied as he pulled himself out of you spinning you around and finally coming face-to-face with him, Gojo’s hair now completely dry but nothing changed about his smirk.

¨You don’t need this” He unclips your bra way too easily wiggling it in front of your face like a trophy

“Don’t try putting this act on me, you’ve wanted my dick ever since you met me, those looks you don't give them to everyone.. probably why you love me so much ̈ You push him away playfully, covering your breasts and snatching your bra from him attempting to walk passed, Gojo re-attaches himself to you pulling you into a back hug as he kisses you roughly, biting your lower lip dragging slightly out making you whine.

“Don’t be stubborn, the laundry room is nice but why don’t you show me the bedroom?” You lean into him with a satisfied smile spreading across your face as you had every intention in bringing him to your bed, ¨Where do you think I’m taking you?¨

Nothing was stopping you, both fully naked in bed as Gojo’s face found refuge in between your legs licking up and down your slit and sucking on your sensitive clit, making infinity signs between them, holding your thighs apart to stop you from caging him in with each spasm of your body, “I’m gonna-“, you moaned out Gojo humming at your words removing his mouth from your heat and licking his two fingers as he dives them straight into your soaking pussy pumping in and out, “You’re gonna what?” He smirks, making a gesture of using his free hand to put on his ear to sign like he didn’t listen to you. Watching as you gasp at the sudden intrusion his smirk grew larger. ¨Oh! There! Satoru please I-¨

He stopped, smiling proudly and taking in your watery eyes, his smile soon turning into a sarcastic pout, ¨Aw, that’s cute¨ He laughed, pushing you flat against the bed as you leaned up to try and hit him, him being faster slapping your pussy.

¨Oh stop it! you’ll get what you want later slut, look what you’ve done to me¨ He looks down at his hard and angry cock begging for attention, rolling his fingers around his shaft as he covers his member in your juices.

¨Open your legs wider” Gojo hovers above you angling himself at your cunt, finally slipping back into your wet cunt, wasting no time in hammering into you giving you no chance in preparing for his speed, quickly wrapping your arms around his neck as he mercilessly rocks you back and forth but as Gojo lifted each of your legs up putting you into a mating press, which made the thrusters even go deeper inside you, turning you into a beautiful moaning mess.¨Ah! Look at you, you’re beautiful¨

Gojo groans out closing his eyes and throwing his head back in an attempt not to bust, picking up the pace as he fucks you raw diving his face into your neck as he concentrates feeling his heavy panting on your neck.

¨Don’t stop this time¨ You barely get out feeling your body getting to it’s highest point again, your back arching immediately as Gojo’s fingers had sneakily approached your clit rubbing your clit at lightning speed. You couldn’t breathe your legs spasming out and clenching around Gojo so hard he could barely move, your moans turning into a pleasurable scream as you reached your orgasm falling limp as you continued to pulsate around Gojo’s cock.

He isn’t done yet. Taking in sharp breaths as he chases after his own high, you whine slightly from sensitivity but you weren’t going to stop him, thrusting a few more times till he pulls out in quickly, pumping himself in his hand as he aims his load on your stomach, moaning sweetly as he shoots his cum all over your lower half swiping his thumb over his head picking up some of the white substance and shoving it into your slightly agape mouth, ¨How does it taste sweetheart?¨ You start sucking his thumb without any hesitation making a loud popping sound as you pull his hand away.¨Delicious¨, you smile.

With a satisfied chuckle Gojo collapsed onto your bed watching as he reached for anything to help clean yourself up with, ¨I don’t regret doing that you know…¨ He quickly says as he wiped up his mess, ¨I would’ve preferred if you cum somewhere a little less messy¨ You raised an eyebrow, ¨I meant having sex with you.. I’d do it again¨ You smiled, feeling the excitement run through you with just the thought of having sex with Gojo again ¨I’d like that too¨ He went a little quiet intensely watching you, getting closer to you, his lips crashed yours. This time it wasn’t rushed at all, he was moving his lips slowly, capturing every moment of it. Taking a small moment to breathe, he started kissing you again, then giving small pecks all around your face which made you giggle. He finally stopped with getting himself around your arms, cuddling you.

He called out your name at which you just answered with a small sound out of tiredness.

¨I think I love you.¨

#gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutus kaisen #smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo satoru x you #pls dont let this flop

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fruitsoxs · 4 months

Note

can we get some jealousy blurbs for astarion and/or gale?

Of course!! I love a good jealousy blurb

pairings; astarion x reader , gale x reader warnings; none notes; I was pumped up about this request i did it within a day lol. also rolan mention because i love him

Astarion

When you’ve got a little tadpole in your head that could very well be the end of you, little things like jealousy should be the least of your worries. Yet, here Astarion stands with one arm crossed over the other, pouting at the scene in front of him. He watches as his partner frets over another man who seems to keep showing up on their journey. Of course he should’ve known Rolan would be here at this stupid magic store that Gale so desperately wanted to visit. Astarion had heard you talk about how the tiefling was planning on becoming an apprentice for Lorrokoan. Pity that the grand wizard had turned out to be such a massive asshole. Yes it’s horrible he was mistreating Rolan (Astarion could always sympathize with any poor soul who suffers at their master’s hands). However, that doesn’t warrant you leaning in so closely to the man to look at his bruises. It doesn’t mean you can smile so fondly at him-

It takes you laughing at something Rolan said while the man stares at you softly before Astarion has had enough. The vampire clears his throat rather loudly, grabbing everyone’s attention. Once you are looking at him he opens his mouth to say “Shouldn’t we get going? We’ve been in this dreaded place too long.” Your smile drops as you tilt their head, giving Astarion a confused look. Astarion simply looks away. He knows it’s petty, but he doesn’t care. Getting the hint, you nod. “I guess it’s time we get out of your hair Rolan.” you express.

Rolan's smile falters, but he nods in understanding. “I do have a lot of work to do now. Of course, if you should ever need my assistance, just call for me. I’ll lend my magic in any way that I can.” the magic user tells you. Astarion huffs and starts to walk away. He knows full well Rolan’s help would be useful, especially with the coming battle you must fight. Once again though, he doesn’t care. There’s something about this situation that has made him feel uncomfortable, and he’s quite mad about it.

When you finally exit the massive building, Astarion’s anger subsides. He feels himself grow a little ashamed by his outburst. He wraps his arms around his chest and stops. You stop with him, locking onto his gaze with a sense of curiosity. The others have kept going, opting to give the two of you a little privacy.

“Were you jealous? Of Rolan?” You ask seemingly humored by the entire ordeal. Astarion wants to deny it. After all, he’s never been one to care much about what you do- and who you do it with. Despite being in a romantic relationship with you, he doesn’t own you. He loves you, and he knows you love him. You’ve proved it time and time again. That should be enough. For some reason though, this situation has deeply upset him. “And what if I am?” he asks defensively, sending a glare that looks more like a pout.

“I’ve never known you to be the jealous type.” You joke, smiling. When you notice the seriousness in Astarion’s eyes, your grin drops. “You’re serious?” you ask, inching closer. The vampire doesn’t need to say anything, his expression explains it all. You simply reach out and put your hand on his arm. You do it slowly, giving Astarion a chance to pull away if he wants. “Star…” you whisper, eyes meeting his. “You are the most important person in my life. Never forget I love you. So much.”

He knows this, but hearing you say it makes his negative emotions melt away. “And besides, you don’t need to be jealous of Rolan. Yes, I worry about him- but we’ve saved him so many times it’s hard not to.” you sigh, shaking your head like a worried parent. A small smile makes its way onto Astarion’s lips. “Bad luck does seem to follow him.”

Gale

Gale has had a rough few months. After being ripped from his home, given a tadpole in his head, and forced to adventure with a bunch of …colorful people, he’s been craving one good thing. He didn’t expect that one good thing to be the fearless leader of his adventure party, you. Along the journey, you showed the man you had a great heart. Your habit of saving others, and doing the right thing made Gale swoon. He hadn’t expected to meet such an amazing person during such a trying time. Somewhere along the way, the wizard had fallen for you and your kind hearted nature. The only problem? Sometimes you were a bit too kind.

Gale’s smile fades as he watches a man strut his way over to you, confidence in every step. After finally making your way to Baldur’s Gate, your party had decided stopping at one of the taverns to grab a drink wasn’t such a bad idea. The circumstances may be dire, but taking a little time to relax is important. That’s how you ended up here, with a bunch of people following your tail. Gale had severely underestimated how many drunkards would have the guts to hit on someone like you. Now, his mind is swimming with that funny little green monster known as jealousy.

“So, do you come here often?” The stranger asks you, leaning against the bar between you and Gale. Gale wishes just this once you would get angry, and react in a way unbecoming of you. Of course you don’t. You simply smile at the man and shake your head. “No. Not really.” you answer, aura radiating with kindness. “Well then, allow me to fund your next drink.” The man’s speech is slurred, clearly egged on by the alcohol in his system.

Gale watches the scene on the other side of the man, his eyebrows lifted in a way that makes him look like a kicked dog. When you don’t deny the drink, Gale feels his chest grow tighter. The thing that made him fall for you, is the thing he hates most right now. He hates that feeling. After all, it’s his fault he has yet to confess his feelings. He finds himself turning away, glancing at his drink with uncertainty. What should he do?

“Hey…maybe after this we could go out back-”

Gale snaps his head back over to the man. “No.” he says out loud cutting the man off. Suddenly fueled by anger, he stands up, walks over to you, takes your hand and begins to pull you away. You stumble along behind him, but don’t pull form his grasp. He leads you away from the confused man at the bar, and outside into the cold air. Once he stops, he turns to look at you. You don’t seem angry, just a little confused.

“Is everything okay Gale?” you ask. You seem a little concerned, and it makes his heart twist.

“I- No. Everything is not okay. I just...I’m..” he groans, unable to fully express what he’s trying to say. He doesn’t want to confess like this. He wants it to be romantic, not awkward and uncomfortable. “I do not like watching people take advantage of your kindness.” He decides to say.

You smile at him, and squeeze his hand. The hand he forgot is holding yours. “Thank you Gale.” you mumble. You then lean forward, and before he knows it you’re pressing your lips against his cheek. “That’s very kind of you.”

His cheeks heat up, a dumb smile stretching across his lips. “Anything for you.”

#requests are open!#gale x reader #gale x you #gale x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav

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seeingivy · 1 year

Text

never grow up

satoru gojo x f!reader

tsumiki’s first date doesn’t go so well.

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: megumi + tsumiki kiddos, mentions of heartbreak, reader says she wants to murder a child at one point, reader and gojo are soulmates, written for my girlies who are still waiting for love (I am the target audience)

an: my other gojo fic is personally victimizing me. like physically giving me pain in my soul its making me very mad. anyways here is a consolation prize (very old draft) while I try to revive that dumpster fire and not rip my hair out in the process. apologies to the gojo girlies im sorry :(((

You press down the ends of Tsumiki’s hair, setting her hair against the hairband that she had picked out. You feel her reach up, squeezing your hands as you give her hair one last spray lean down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

She turns around, pressing herself against your legs as Satoru and Megumi walk in, leaning against the doorframe. They’re both irritated - not big fans of the whole ordeal.

Tsumiki’s going on a date.

Satoru was very adamant about it at first. Tsumiki can’t go on a date. She’s only thirteen and she has no business looking at boys, let alone going out with one.

But she was just so excited, her tiny little eyes looking up into yours as she pleaded with you to convince him. So you did - his favorite dessert, a few kisses, and batting your pretty eyelashes until he gave in. And he always does.

Megumi wasn’t one to exactly stop it per say, but he had made his opinions clear. He’s not a nice guy. Dates are stupid. Love isn’t real. You chalk it up to the fact that he’s a morbid nine year old.

The three of you clump by the door as you watch her walk out the door, shooting you one last toothy smile before locking her fingers with the boy, Hiro she said his name was, and skipping down the walkway to where his parents were waiting.

Megumi trails off immediately, running up to his room as you and Satoru watch the car drive away. He reaches over, locking his fingers with yours, as he cranes his neck out the doorway to watch the car disappear down the street.

“She’s too young to go on a date, Y/N. What if he’s an idiot?”

You wrap your arms around him, squeezing his arms as he deflates against you.

“They’re thirteen, Toru. I bet they’re just going to awkwardly hold hands during the movie and freak out about it. It’ll be fine.”

“And what if something else happens and she comes home crying, love?”

“She’s growing up. Stuff like that will happen. We just have to be here to catch her, that’s all.”

You and Satoru are standing outside the movie theater, the rain pouring against the shade, as you wait for Tsumiki to leave the theater. She had texted you - two hours earlier than she was supposed to, much to Satoru’s dismay - and had said that she wanted to come home.

And when she comes out, you know you made the wrong choice by letting her go. Because there she is, crying puddles like Satoru said she would. Her eyes are swollen, her cheeks tinted pink, and the look on her face is just about to make you cry. She looks heartbroken.

She holds her hand out to Satoru, the two of them walking off to the car as you trail behind the time.

You feel horrible. You pushed her too hard, too early - letting your own past get caught up in what you were doing with Tsumiki. You remember it vividly. Pining in your room, saying no to dates because you knew your parents would never let you go. Getting stuck wondering about what could have been, how much love you lost out on just because someone stopped you.

You didn’t want to do that to Tsumiki. Let her lose out on feeling special, having someone hand her flowers, and making her smile just because she was only thirteen.

This is somehow worse. She’s only thirteen and she knows. The soul crushing feeling of someone not returning your feelings, thinking you’re weird, having love to hold onto that no one wants to return.

The three of you return home, not having uttered a single word the entire ride home. Megumi was still over at Yuji’s, having ran over to his house across the street the second the two of you went to pick up Tsumiki.

“Want me to go get him, Toru?”

“Not yet, love. We have to talk to Miki first.”

You press your hands against your sides, awkwardly ambling into the kitchen where she was sitting at the table. She had unwrapped the plate you had made her - that she was supposed to eat when she told you about how great her date was. Instead she looks deflated, pushing her fork across the sides as she picks out the smallest bites of food.

You sit next to her and watch Satoru zip around the kitchen, placing items in front of you. Three spoons, strawberries, and the industrial tub of chocolate ice cream that Satoru bought against your protests.

He leans forward, taking the plate in front of Tsumiki onto the side and pushing the ice cream in front of her. He hands the two of you spoons, taking the third, and opens the lid.

“Alright Miki. Let’s talk, yeah?”

“No.”

She lowers her head, digging her spoon into the ice cream as you and Satoru stand at her sides. He leans over, slinging his arm around her shoulder as he gestures to you to do the same. You both lean your heads against hers, the three of you still digging into the ice cream.

You’re not sure when she started, but when you look over, Tsumiki’s crying, her hold on both of your hands so tight you can feel the blood stopping. The three of you wordlessly eat the ice cream, until Satoru breaks the silence - nearly an hour later.

“Want to talk about it now?’

“I just got sad. When we got there, he asked me if one of my friends liked anyone because he liked her. Not me.”

You can feel the bitterness sticking in your throat - a heavy mix of guilt and anger. You never really understood child violence, but you think you’re starting to get it. Because why would he take her all the way there just to say that? Hold her hand on the pavement just to ask about her friend? You’re going to throttle him.

“I just wanted someone to like me like you guys like each other.”

You and Satoru look at each other over the top of her head, your heart squeezing in your chest at her words.

“Someone will, Tsumiki. I promise, okay?”

She crushes her hand in yours, nodding as she leans closer into you. You can see the gears in Satoru’s head moving as he looks over, shaking his head at you.

“Can I tell you something, Tsumiki?’

She looks up at him, the two of you looking into his bright, blue eyes.

“No one liked Y/N when she was younger.”

You glare at him, rolling your eyes. He can’t be serious.

“Really?”

“Yeah. She went months, years on end waiting for someone to like her back, you know?”

“Thank you for the reminder, Satoru.”

He ruffles the top of your hair as Tsumiki laughs, shaking his head at the two of you.

“What I mean is, Y/N and I had to wait for each other. We didn’t get it right on the first try or even the third, fourth, or fifth try. Y/N dated guys who were mean to her, I dated girls who didn’t even really like me, and we both were really, really sad about it.”

Now you get it.

“I waited for Y/N. She didn’t just come around super easy, okay? You’ll have to wait for your Y/N too.”

“Waiting for Satoru made it all the sweeter when I got to him, you know?”

She looks up, a questioning look in her eyes as she angles her neck upwards.

“The thing you’re waiting for is worth it. And you don’t have to worry about it not coming, because it will. And when it comes, you won’t even remember that you had ever waited, that you ever felt this way.”

You and Satoru both watch her wipe her tears with the back of her hand, nodding as she gives the two of you one last hug and pads off to her room. You and Satoru stay in the kitchen, your hands locked together as you eat the tub of ice cream Satoru left out.

You lean over, pressing your forehead against his shoulder as you groan. He places his free hand in your hair, soothing through the tangles at the ends of your hair.

“What are you groaning, love?”

“I should have just listened to you. She’s all sad now because I let her go.”

“That’s not your fault. It was right to let her go now because it was bound to happen one day.”

“I know that, Toru. I just…I don’t want her to grow up. I don’t think I really realized it before but people can hurt her. The bad way. And we can’t really protect her from that.”

He lets go of the spoon, circling his hands around your face as he lifts your head up. He’s looking down at you, stupid blue eyes glimmering, as he gives you a soft smile.

“She’s growing up. Stuff like that will happen. And she won’t be alone, because we’ll be there to catch her.”

“Don’t quote me back to me dumbass. I hate you.”

He laughs in response, leaning down to press soft kisses to your face - your forehead, cheeks, the tip of your nose. You shrug him off, pressing yourself against his shoulder again, his hand rubbing small circles into your side.

“Thanks for waiting for me, Toru.” you whisper, leaning closer to him.

“You’re so dramatic.”

He leans down, pressing kisses all over your face till you’re smiling so big you have to push him off. He always does this - tickles, kisses, squishes you to death until you smile at him again. He stops, pulling you close again as you both swing your legs against the chair.

“Thanks for waiting for me too, love.”

You and Satoru drag Tsumiki and Megumi to the bookstore the next day, much to Megumi’s dismay. You tell Tsumiki that she can pick anything she wants out and that the two of you will buy it for her.

She joins the two of you at the front, holding a laminated purple calendar in her hands. You crouch down, turning it over in your hands, as she looks at you. It’s a fifteen year calendar - which you didn’t even know they made.

“You picked…a calendar?”

“I want to count down the days. Till I find my you.”

She skips off, entering the line as you and Satoru follow, your hands locked together. He squeezes your hands three times, giving you a soft smile, as you return his three squeezes.

One squeeze for each word. I love you.

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

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babyjakes · 2 years

Text

darling dangers.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinktober 2022

prompt | vibrator

pairings | mean!dark!best friend!ransom drysdale and soft!dark!best friend!jake jensen x innocent!reader

warnings | non/dub-con (reader is reluctant and resistant.) ran and jake are absolutely taking advantage of reader. ran is an asshole, jake is a little better. heavy humiliation, babying, dumbification, mocking and degradation. crying kink. ransom holds reader down. pussy slapping. forced fingering and use of vibrator. heavy clit focus. multiple forced orgasms. squirting. overstimulation. jake is doing most of the work, ransom's just there to be mean lol.

word count | 2,312

an | um oh my godddddd, ,,, this idea has been swirling around in my brain for so long and finally, finally i get to bring it to fruition >:-)) welcome to kinktober, whores <333 also sorry if this one feels awkward or rusty? i've been writing whump for the past month so getting back into the filth felt a little clumsy :-((

As soon as you see the small black box sitting out in the open on the counter between your two best friends, both of their faces drawn in expectant expressions as they stand just waiting for you to walk in on the perfect scene they've orchestrated- you know you're in deep, deep trouble.

Ransom's crossing his arms, a small smirk forming on his face when he sees how wide your eyes have gone. Jake's giving off more disappointment than amusement, which honestly hits deeper than the twisted pleasure his counterpart's apparently finding in the whole ordeal. Gulping as you take a step forward into the kitchen, your voice betrays you by trembling as you dare to speak up. "R-Ran? Jakey? What's going on?"

"You know, it's funny, princess. We've been wondering the same thing," Ransom jests as he places a steady hand on the counter, crossing one ankle over the other as he pauses to glance at the blonde standing beside him. "Right, J? We never would've imagined our precious little angel- our sweet, innocent y/n- turning out to be such a whore."

Tears prickle in your eyes at the remark; bottom lip puffing out slightly in a pathetic frown, you shake your head in defense. "N-no, don't say that. S'not true."

"Aww, look at her, Jake. Think she's gonna cry already. Go on then, sweetheart. Know you can't help it, you've always been such a sensitive little thing."

Brow stiffening in anger, you glare at the brown-haired boy. "Stop it," you whisper through your hurt and confusion. Why are they doing this to you? They're your best friends, your Ran and Jakey. What would ever drive them to humiliate you like this? You would've never seen it coming. "Wh-why were you going through my mail, anyway? You have no right."

"Well, it helped that we were expecting the package," Jake finally breaks his silence, letting out a small sigh as he crosses his own arms. "An email popped up about your order status while I was helping you fix your phone last week. Couldn't believe it, our sweet y/n, ordering from a site like that. But it looks like there was no mistake here." Turning slightly, he reaches out to pick up the little box with a single hand. Eyeing the picture on the lid, his disappointment only seems to grow as he looks back at you, "Buggy, d'you even know what these are made for? You have no business buyin' something like this; you're much too little, y/n."

Cheeks burning at your friend's patronizing words, your eyes narrow further. "Of course I know what they're made for, Jake. I... I'm not stupid, I'm a big girl. I can order whatever the hell I want," you shot back.

At that, Ransom chuckles as Jake can only manage to shake his head in further disappointment. "A big girl, huh? We'll see about that, babycakes."

Everything happens so fast, you're barely able to process it. Before you know it, the pair have whisked you away to your bedroom, Ransom laughing cruelly as he carries you over his shoulder. In the blink of an eye, they have you surrounded on the plush duvet of your queen-sized bed, the brunette coming up behind you to trap you in his arms. As he leans back against the pile of pillows at the head of the bed, he brings you with him, pressing your back up against his broad chest as you squirm in haste. Jake approaches the two of you on his knees, the box with your new toy still clasped in his hand. Writhing a bit as Ransom tightens his grip on you, you finally find your voice. "What the fuck-? Let go of me, let me go! What are you doing? This is-"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Jake tells you sadly as your other friend eventually gets a good enough hold on you to overpower your resistance. "This is for your own good, y/n. You need'ta learn not to mess around with these things. It's not safe for a little girl like you."

"Learn? What do you mean?" you cry as Ransom's large hands come up to pry your knees apart, using his own strong legs to hold you open. As soon as you feel the cool air of the apartment hitting the thin layer of fabric covering your delicate mound, you freeze. Peering down with wide eyes, you see that your little tennis skirt has flipped up in the most unfortunate of ways, leaving your lacy pink panties on full display for everyone in the room's viewing pleasure. Heart pounding heavily in your chest, you clear your throat.

"R-Ran, Jakey... please..."

"We're not gonna hurt you, baby. Just gonna show you how dangerous these things can be, that's all. You're safe," Jake hums as he lays down on his tummy before you, scooting up between your widespread legs to come almost face-to-face with your now quivering core.

"Pink lace," Ransom snorts from behind you as his hands rest greedily on your inner thighs. "She really is a little slut, isn't she, J?"

Tears pool in your eyes as your cheeks burn in embarrassment. "P-please, please don't look," you beg, your tears earning a sympathetic frown from the blonde beneath you as he reaches out to run a tender hand over the lace of your panties.

"We're gonna be doin' a whole lot more than lookin', sweet thing," he admits as his fingers press against your dampness. "And would you look at that, someone's already gettin' wet." Squeezing out a few more tears as the man prods at your thinly-covered heat, you can only whimper in response.

"Doesn't surprise me. Bet she likes us being all rough, holding her down and spreading her open. You like that, sweetheart?" Ransom teases as he brings a hand up to cup one of your breasts over the flimsy yellow tank top you're wearing. "Never wears a bra around us, either. She's just asking to be played with." At the feeling of his cool hand slipping under your top to search for your beaded nipple, you cry out, straining against his wicked hold- but it's no use. Compared to Jake and Ransom, you're nothing in terms of size or strength. And now that they've got you where they want you, you're completely at their mercy. And you're not sure how much you can trust their promise of safety, not after all they've just done to you.

The meaner of the two laughs darkly as he finds one of the little knots of flesh, pinching and rolling it between his fingers as you cry softly to yourself. "Responsive little thing, isn't she?" he marvels as Jake takes to dealing with your panties; for a moment, he pushes them aside, but then after a few seconds of rethinking, he instead just decides to simply take the thin strip of fabric in his hands, pulling harshly until the band snaps apart completely.

"There we go," he murmurs as his eyes settle down on your dripping folds. "Such a pretty little pussy you've got, sunshine. It's a shame you didn't decide to share sooner."

Looking down over your shoulder to take his own peek, Ransom groans at the sight of your untouched petals. "Fuck, y/n. You've been keeping that all to yourself? Bet no one's ever done anything like this to you before. This your first time, princess?" Your words only continue to fail you as you lower your head in shame, your response giving the two boys all the answers they need. "Well too bad it has to be wasted on a punishment. Dumb little girl thought she could order a big girl toy- these things aren't made for you, baby. You're gonna realize that very quickly."

Pulling his hands away to fiddle with the box, Jake takes his time removing the little blue bullet from its packaging. The friends were smart enough to make sure to charge it before their little ambush, meaning they now have the benefit of its full battery life to spend on teaching you your little lesson. "Here it is," Jake hums, clicking it on carefully to the lowest speed. "Now sweetheart, I'm gonna give you one chance to get yourself outta this," he bargains.

That catches your attention. Raising your weary gaze to meet the blonde's soft set of eyes, you nod reluctantly. "I want you to show me and Ran exactly what you were gonna do with this thing. Want you to use it just like how you were planning when you bought it. And if you're honest with me- with us, and show us everything it was gonna do for you, we'll let you go."

Blinking, you take a moment to think. It's a good offer, you will admit, and he even seems genuine about keeping his end of the deal if you follow through with it. But there's a part of you that just can't bear the thought of demonstrating the crude acts you were intending on performing with the toy, at least not to your two best friends in the entire world. He left it unsaid, but it was implied: Jake wants you to make yourself cum for them. And you just can't do it, you know you can't. So you decide to do the only other thing you can think of: play stupid and pray they buy it.

Swallowing thickly, you nod. Shifting a little, Ransom releases one of your hands, still holding your breast hostage beneath his fingers, almost as an impending threat. Watching you carefully, Jake hands you the buzzing bullet, the strength of the toy's vibrations causing your hand to tingle ticklishly as you suck in a deep breath.

"Go ahead, cutie. Show us," Jake encourages.

Trying to keep your hand from shaking, you brace yourself as you bring the object down between your legs, searching a little to find your glistening hole. Squeezing your eyes shut, you push in, letting the low rumble of the vibrator settle into your core.

"Alright, that's enough," Ransom snaps, causing you to jump as Jake rips the toy from your heat and grasp. "Stupid fucking baby, that was a big mistake. Are you really too dumb to know where it goes? Or do you just want us to punish you?"

Shaking his head in disappointment, Jake sighs heavily. "Good girls don't lie, y/n," he states harshly as Ransom resecures both of your arms down against your back before reaching between your legs to land a few forceful slaps against your bare pussy.

You sob at the sting, gasping as his hand comes up to pull back the hood of your clit. "Give it to her, she was asking for it," he nods to Jake.

Turning up the toy a few clicks, the blonde focuses in his gaze on your little bundle of nerves as he gently collects some of your wetness on the twitching head of the tool before easing it up against your button, earning a strained gasp from you as your whole world's set on fire. The burning is unlike anything you've ever experienced, heat blooming in your core as you burst into more tears at the sensation. Shaking his head knowingly, Jake's voice is full of disappointment as he chastises you, "I gave you a chance, y/n, but you either lied to me, or you're just way dumber than I ever imagined."

"Look at all those tears," Ransom all but moans as he twists and pulls at your nipple, grinding subtly into your back as he holds you down for Jake's torment. "Keep it right on the head, pal- don't cut her any slack. What's the matter, sweetheart- huh? That too much for you? I thought you were a big girl who could handle big girl toys. Of course you're not," he laughs darkly, only egged on by the feeling of you writhing against him, "you're just a stupid little baby who needs to be taught a lesson."

"Think she's learning pretty quick," Jake comments as he practically drools at the sight of your wetness leaking out onto the bed beneath you. Using his free hand, he gently eases a finger into you, curling up gently to rub at your soft, spongey ceiling as your eyes roll back in horrific pain and pleasure.

"Please, please..." you're reduced to mere sobs as you feel the pressure of your orgasm building up more and more in your tummy. "Please, n-no-... wait-... stop-..."

"There it is. C'mon, baby. Cum for us, it's okay," Jake coos as he twirls the head of the bullet over your swollen clit. "That's it, there you go," he sighs with a small smile as you're forced over the edge, your back arching painfully as you squirt out onto his waiting hands.

"Fuck," Ransom curses from behind you, his cock bulging needily at the sight of you being forced to cum. "She's a fucking squirter, would'ya look at that. Better than anything I was dreaming of," he groans as your little toes twitch from the overstimulation, your sobs growing louder as you come down from your high.

"P-please, please, no more!" you hiccup, the continued vibrations against your now engorged button enough to bring you to your knees.

"You think she's learned her lesson, Ran?" Jake asks doubtfully, already knowing what the answer will be as he stretches you open to add a second finger before turning up the bullet another few notches.

"No, I don't think we're anywhere near finished," the brunette responds cruelly as he slaps his hand down a few times against your throbbing heat before pulling back on your lips again to spread you out once more. "She needs at least one more, maybe two. Gotta really show her how dangerous that little thing can be."

#eun's writing #darling dangers #kinktober 2022 #ransom drysdale smut #jake jensen smut #jake jensen #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #jake jensen fanfiction #dark!ransom drysdale #dark!jake jensen #chris evans #chris evans smut #jake jensen x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #jake jensen one shot #jake jensen imagine #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale imagine

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heartsforsserafim · 9 months

Note

Can I request the mean girl!Kazuha x president reader?

Scream

mean girl!kazuha x president fem!reader

genre ; smut

tw ; secret relationship, g!p zuha,unprotected sex,creampie

tried my best here idk if its good or not tho💀

You and Kazuha have seen each other around the school a lot, you catching her picking on other students the majority of the time. You knew of her little crew, calling themselves le sserafim. The only one who was somewhat nice out of that group was their youngest Eunchae.

But the other four are completely horrible, if it wasn't them picking on students then they were fighting or being disruptive during class. If they weren't in class then they were either drinking or getting high behind the school. You were tired of it, every single day it's something going on with these girls.

They were failing their classes, so they always had to come and see you. A little while passed by though and you noticed how the groups dynamic changed, the oldest one, sakura, started keeping them in check during class and the american one, yunjin, was always helping the students during english.

All of them were changing their old ways aside from zuha, so that leads you here, sitting in a office, one on one with the Nakamura Kazuha. Your cameras are off, as you requested for more privacy.

Your office, was hot. Uncomfortably hot for the both of you, tension was growing in the air the more you two sat in silence, "Miss Nakamura, listen", you started and stared into her soft brown eyes. Her eyes gave off that she's apologetic for what she's done but it's too late to turn back time, " One weeks detention" "WHAT!?" You raise a eyebrow at the girl, "Excuse me?" "E-ehem sorry. I don't get why I need a week" "You beat that kid up for no reason Kazuha. You can't do that. You know the way the principal is so why?" "He uhm"

Kazuha hesitated before speaking again, "He said he liked you" You froze and her head went down looking at her own feet. "So you beat him up, just cause he has a crush on me? Kazuha why do you believe you have the right to do that?" "because i have a crush on you too." she states, not even looking up at you. "Nakamura Kazuha." You say and begin scolding the girl about how that'll be terrible for your reputation and the way the school's dynamic will go if you two were to date. "Y/nie.." She says as tears threaten to fall down her cheeks, you stopped talking and looked at the girl, her head up, she's so sad.

"I-i know the way ive been isn't good. I know we w-wont look good together but please just give me one chance i promise i'll change for you" You looked and her, sighing in defeat, "Alright, but apologize to that kid and no one can know, understand?" She smiled and wiped her tears, "Thank you so much" she says, gets up and kisses you before walking out.

You and Kazuha have been together for a while, no one still hasn't suspected. That was until her friends caught you to fucking in the bathroom, she was knuckles deep inside you and they walked in. "Woah Kazuha.." Sakura said, Chaewon looked up from her phone and automatically took Eunchae out of the bathroom taking her to god knows where. "Damn bro, i didn't know you get down like that" Yun said, dapping the younger one. You were embarrassed and got off the sink, "I-i'll just see you later" You attempted to walk out but Sakura stopped you, "Oh no little miss president, you're not going anywhere." "Yea, seeing Kazuha do that kinda got me a little turned on" Yun said, and pointed to her crotch. You knew there was no escaping, and was wondering why does yun have a dick anyway??

After that entire ordeal, you were limping out the bathroom like you had a sprain ankle, the three girls hair was a mess and the bathroom smelled like sex. They felt bad for the next girls to use the bathroom but they didn't care. Especially Kazuha, she wanted to be able to fuck you without any interruptions and decided to just go home with you.

After a week of no sex, she was finally able to come over and let's just say, things got wild

"Okay my dad isn't home yet so we can do it" "Okay sweet" You both hurry upstairs and begin undressing. Kazuha just wanted to taste you again so after removing your clothes she started to eat you out. Her tongue moving in ways you've never felt before, her fingers going to your tits and playing with your nipples. "A-ah shit Kazuha" you moaned out, rolling your hips along her tongue. She inserted her tongue into your needy cunt and began thrusting her tongue. Your head thrashing back against the pillows.

Your orgasm was nearing and with a string of "Pleases" and yes" you came into Zuha's mouth. She got up, using her fingers to help you ride out the orgasm. She stood up and jerked herself a bit, before going inside your cunt. "S-so big. F-fuck" "S-so tight" you both say together, her hips taking off pretty slow, before she put your legs on her shoulder. Fucking you in missionary, "W-wait O-oh fuck" you came on her cock, her fingers stimulating your clit.

She sped up her thrust, and began choking you with her free hand. "G-god Y/n i'm gonna fill you up so much mmhp" Kazuha said, and started going faster. A while passed her thrust getting sloppier, You came on her cock over 5 times at this point. "I'm cumming." "Inside me, master" You look at her, your eyes filled with the most lust and her load shot inside of you, her thrust slowing down.

You both were panting, she never pulled out. You heard your dad's car in the driveway , "Zuha my dad's home." You say and she stood up in a complete panic. She hurriedly put her clothes on and handed you yours, "Here babe put these on" You couldn't move and then her heart dropped once your front door opened. "Just pretend to be asleep" you closed your eyes and she put a movie on the tv, skipping the majority to make it seem like you fell asleep while watching it.

Your dad loved kazuha, he approved of her saying she's the best one for you. So he wouldn't question why she's there, but she didn't want him to know you two are having sex. So sprayed some of your perfume in the room and opened your window a bit to get the smell out.

"Y/n I'm home!" He yelled from downstairs but didn't get a reply he was worried and came upstairs seeing zuha on the bed with you, "Sorry for not knocking, i got worried for her" he says, "It's fine mr. L/n" "How long has she been asleep?" "About 30 minutes" "Okay well let her know i brought her something for work and i have a business trip" "Okay sir" "Thank you zuha, and you two didn't do anything, right?" "No sir" She did the mini salute, he did it back.

That was their cute little way of doing things before he left back down stairs, zuha sighed in relief. "We almost got caught" she said quietly before turning her attention back to the movie and cuddling you

#kpop #girl group smut #kpop smut #le sserafim smut #lesserafim smut #nakamura kazuha

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foliosriot · 8 months

Text

The Rotten And Ugly

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

summary: you break up with noah without thinking about the consequences for either of you.

warnings: language. description of a panic attack. self-worth issues. mental health problems.

a/n: anyways this got angstier than i’d originally anticipated so uh enjoy the pain i’m about to serve you on a damaged and thrifted zoopals plate

masterlist

You hate how much he’s gotten under your skin over the years. The way he’s taken a variety of sharp objects and ruthlessly carved his name into your bones. In the intricacies of your veins there are markings that are nearly identical to his tattoos. You swear your hips and waist are permanently speckled with dark smudges, a repeating pattern that looks suspiciously like his fingerprints.

You’re still picking out pieces of him from yourself.

And yet, you were the one to end it. You were the one that told Noah you “can’t do this anymore”, whatever the hell that means. He asked as much, but you didn’t seem capable in giving him a straight answer. So you left the house battling against your instincts to run back to him.

But you were able to fight against them as you let yourself out the front door, leaving behind someone that has been a rock in your life for as long as you can remember. You left Noah standing in the living room, alone and confused. You fucking abandoned your self-proclaimed soulmate.

That was nearly a month ago.

After you left the boys’ house that day, you somehow convinced yourself that you were no longer hopelessly in love with Noah. You gaslit your own brain into believing your relationship — both platonic and romantic — was built on the fact that you were never good enough, that Noah took pity on you from the get-go.

It seemed to work. At first, that is. Because, before you altered your brain, you allowed yourself to wallow in your guilt and anxieties. For three consecutive days you bawled into your pillows, grimacing and crying even harder when the smell of Noah’s cologne met your nostrils. You were throwing yourself quite the pity party, and it was torturous.

But you were the one who was convinced that you never deserved Noah in the first place. You ended it, not him.

When those three days were up and gone, you managed to pull yourself together long enough to allow your best friend, Violet, to take you out for a girls’ night. It was something you needed — it was something that could distract you from your own head.

And the fact that it had worked was surprising. Maybe it worked too well.

At one of the handful of bars Violet had dragged you to you met Ryan. He was tall, lithe build and long limbs. His blackened hair was shorter on the sides, allowing the top to grow longer, thus falling into the beautiful hazel of his eyes. He had snow white skin but his flesh was divided up by swathes of colored ink that had nearly glowed under the neon lights. He’d donned an old Bullet For My Valentine t-shirt and black cargo pants.

Something about him had felt familiar to you. But you weren’t allowed anymore pondering over that inclination as Ryan had dragged you onto the dance floor.

It wouldn’t occur to you until a week later when you and Ryan were on your first official date. If it weren’t for the gauged ears, the round, rimless glasses, or the chunky gold rings, you would have thought he was somebody else. It was almost uncanny.

God, but you could have sworn…

You were wrong, however.

Ryan seemed to really like you, though. He had an eye for finer details and was a real sweetheart. He was obviously taking things slow with you, especially after you had accidentally dumped the story of what happened with Noah onto him over one too many shots of tequila. His genuine concern and sympathy over the entire ordeal had you fawning over him tenfold.

You and Ryan went on more dates since that night. Around him you were pushing down your self pity and replacing it with something you could have mistaken for happiness; you felt content around Ryan.

Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever.

It was nearing dusk when your apartment’s doorbell chimed. The sound startled you for a moment, but you relaxed as you headed for the door.

But there was Ryan, that smile of his you had anticipated on his face. You swallow down the chunk of disappointment.

“Hey,” you greeted him. You stepped aside to let him inside before gently clicking the door shut. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, sorry! I was gonna text you that I was coming over, but I thought I’d make it a surprise,” Ryan replies with a shrug.

You force a smile, hoping it came off, at least, partially genuine. “Oh, okay. Well, do you wanna watch a movie or something, then?” you asked.

“Sure.”

The two of you walk in to the living room in search of something to watch, be it a movie or a random episode of a TV show. You sit fairly close to each other on the small couch, a minimal amount of space between both your legs.

As you continue your hunt for your entertainment for the night, your anxiety begins to gradually rise. Your heart is thumping wildly and the palms of your hands are growing clammy and there’s a dull throbbing pain behind your left eye. Why is this happening? What the fuck is going on?

You don’t realize when you begin drawing in breaths in quicker succession, until your chest is seizing and you’re hyperventilating. The sound of Ryan’s concerned voice is muted from inside your skull, making you feel as if you were underwater. Tears are spilling down your face but you can’t find the strength to wipe them away.

Then you feel the vibrations of Ryan frantically speaking to you floating around your brain, and you’re not quite sure what he asked, but you manage to choke out one word.

Noah.

Everything became darker and blurrier after that. Time didn’t existence nor did anything around you. Your head was swimming and you couldn’t figure out where you were — if you were at home, if you were at work, with Noah.

Noah.

You think you hear the front door opening and slamming shut all of a sudden. But you aren’t quite sure anymore. This is the most violent panic attack you’ve ever had.

You jolt when there’s an unexpected hand carefully grasping yours. It must be Ryan.

His skin is frigid compared to the heat radiating from you. He begins gently running his thumb over your knuckles, a gesture that feels vaguely familiar.

The thing that finally brings you back to the present is the soft voice in your ear. At least you think it’s soft and gentle. Everything still sounds warbled, but there’s a distinct difference to this voice. You latch onto it and begin pulling yourself towards it in hopes of relinquishing the hold this panic attack has on you.

Darkness begins slinking away to reveal your living room. Your vision is blurry when you come to, but you blink away the tears that cling to your eyelashes, the action almost painful. You take a few moments to carefully and slowly gulp down several lungfuls of air before you turn to the body beside you.

But you aren’t met with the worried glaze in Ryan’s hazel eyes. Instead you see Noah next to you, his head angled down in your direction as he quietly sings.

Oh.

That’s how you were able to get through your panic attack. The only thing that has ever had that kind of power is Noah singing and holding your hand. He did it to let you know he was there the entire time, to provide something to keep you grounded to reality.

“Noah…”

Your voice comes out as a broken whisper. Noah immediately stops singing. His head shoots up. There is a frantic glint in his dark eyes as he searches your face for a moment before locking his gaze with yours.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, one of his hands moving to your face. His palm is cool against your cheek, and you nearly shudder at the sensation of his calloused thumb gently stroking your cheekbone.

“Wh-What are you doing here?” you counter. You’re trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in your heart when he called you baby. But it is much too difficult, especially when he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. Like you were worth looking at and cherishing. Your stomach churns mildly.

A muscle feathers under his skin when Noah clenches his jaw. He continues staring at you, save for the single glance he shoots up and to the left.

You hesitantly look over your shoulder, and there, standing just behind the couch with his hands clenching the cushions, is Ryan. The look on his face is tight but unreadable. You feel Noah’s hand lightly glide down until it rests against the side of your neck. Ryan’s eyes track the movement.

“What happened?” You ask Ryan the same question, hoping he gives you an answer. You’re trying to ignore the placement of Noah’s hand, but it is proving to be nowhere near easy.

It takes Ryan a few prolonged seconds to say anything. But when he does finally speak, he says, “We were trying to find a movie to watch, but then you tensed and started shaking. I tried talking to you and to get you to stop crying and hyperventilating. You weren’t responding and I was getting really fucking worried.”

Ryan pauses. He visibly swallows, then shifts his hazel gaze from the hand against your throat to your face. A flinch ripples through your body at the emotionless light in his eyes.

“You managed to say one word,” he continues. His tone is devoid of feeling, almost like he was trying not to show any emotion at all. “Noah. And I automatically knew who you were talking about. So, because I was desperate as shit, I got your phone unlocked and found his contact you kept for some reason. I called him and, well, here he is.”

Ryan looks down at the floor beneath him. Your heart is speeding up once more, and Noah seems to have noticed because he presses his index finger into the pulse point beneath the hinge of your jaw. The pressure is ginger at best, but it somehow manages to keep you from going in to hysterics once more.

You look back at Noah to see him already watching you closely. Your breath hitches slightly when you notice the familiar loving shine in his irises. God, you have missed him so much.

Noah has one knee bent and resting on the couch, with the other dangling over the edge. Over the course of the attack you had crumpled into a ball — a familiar aspect of these things for you — and Noah had managed to peel away your arms from where they had wrapped around your legs like a vise. He had entered your personal bubble in hopes of helping you. One hand of his hands still held yours with a secure grip.

You felt an overwhelming need to wrap Noah up in a thankful, loving hug. But you still felt Ryan’s presence.

Mulling over your decision in your head kept the room silent. It took longer than you would have wanted, but you knew it was a necessary one to make in the first place.

“Ryan.” You shift just enough to face Ryan more directly. He lifts his head as you force your arm to move. You slowly reach for one of his hands, gathering the strength to talk. “Thank you for being here. It means so much to me.”

Ryan doesn’t say anything initially. First, he rakes his gaze over to Noah, a glare overcoming him.

“I didn’t do anything, Y/N,” he bites out. “All I did was call the ex.”

You feel Noah tense, but he doesn’t speak.

“I’m gonna leave now,” Ryan says, finally stepping away from the couch. “I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.”

As Ryan heads for the door, you call out, “I’ll call you.”

With his hand already on the doorknob, Ryan stops to look at you. His gaze softens as you make eye contact.

“No. Don’t worry about it,” he tells you. His words are quiet and tinged with a tense of sadness. He gives you a small smile. “This was really nice. I’ll see you around.”

Then Ryan is gone.

And you’re alone with Noah.

Silence sits over you like a weighted blanket. Sitting in the dead quiet with Noah has always been relaxing and comfortable, because there would be times you would lay your head down on his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat. At times like those neither of you had any responsibilities or stresses. You simply existed together in your own little world.

But there is an underlying tension this time around. You’re still angled towards the front door and you can feel Noah watching you. His pinky brushes your collarbone, and it takes all of your remaining strength to suppress a shiver.

Then Noah’s hand slips from your neck, and you can’t help but miss the sudden vacancy.

“Y/N. Can we talk about this?”

Noah’s voice is quiet. His soft tone is tainted with something akin to anger, but you can’t be sure. Maybe it’s sadness or confusion. Either way, you turn your head towards him.

Strands of his dark hair are dangling in front of his face. There’s an unidentifiable glint in his eyes that has your heart stuttering. You suddenly have a desire to reach forward and touch the tattoos on his hands and neck, everything else covered in black clothing. And you think you’re successful at resisting that feeling, when you’ve slowly counted to ten in your head. But you can never rein yourself in very well when it comes to Noah.

You turn to fully face him. He watches your every move with a confused air about him. His body stills completely when you finally stretch your arm out, your fingertips brushing the red apple at his throat. You swear he shivers slightly when your fingernails graze his inked skin.

Noah lets you touch his tattoos without a word or twitch of a muscle. With every movement you make he watches you like a hawk, like he’s going to tear you limb from limb at any moment. You have done this countless times over the years, but something about this time feels different.

This goes on for only a few short minutes. Until Noah grasps your wrists and gently pushes your arms away from him. He keeps his hold on you.

“Y/N.”

Your throat constricts slightly in apparent preparation to cry once more. But you swallow thickly as you manage to meet his eye.

“Noah.”

He tightens his jaw. He lowers his eyebrows slightly as he considers you and your slightly patronizing reply of his name.

“We’re gonna talk about this,” he tells you. “Right now. Whether you like it or not. We need to talk.”

And he’s right, you know he is. Though you don’t know how this is going to go.

You shakily take a deep breath anyways. You nod once, gesturing as best as you can despite your momentary shackles for Noah to speak.

“Why? Why did you break up with me?” Oh god, you’re hoping he didn’t feel your pulse spike at his question. “I mean, you gave me a reason, but we both know it was kinda bullshit. You didn’t tell me the truth. So can you tell me the truth now?”

Fuck. You can’t do this.

I’m sorry, Noah. But I can’t do this anymore.

There’s a pulsing behind your eye. Your head is pounding and your cheeks are tear-stained. And you would be an even bigger liar if you restated what you said that night. ‘Cause by the fucking gods above, you were all in from the beginning. You knew you were in love with Noah a long time before you actually started dating. You have been by his side through the worst years of his life, and he has been there for yours.

You have missed him more than anything this past month. Even while hanging out with Ryan something felt off. Your brain was too hung up on Noah to even fathom forgetting him or replacing him.

So what’s the point of hiding anything else from Noah, since he has seen and witnessed every dark and ugly and rotten thing you hold inside? He saw all the bad and evil that reside deep, deep down and still chose to stay.

But you have been broken for a long time, even considering how much Noah has helped you. There is something damaged beyond repair within. You’re not sure if it’s worth keeping anyone around anymore in order to try and fix it. It seems pointless, really.

Noah is still watching you. His hands are firm around your wrists as he waits for your answer.

“I’ve never been good enough for you,” you finally say, and it feels like a weight is lifted from your chest. “You how damaged I am. You have seen all of the shit that keeps me up at night and you’ve experienced firsthand how violent my panic attacks are. Why the fuck did you stay? You’re Noah fucking Sebastian. Lead singer of a successful metal-core band, who could have anyone he wants. And you chose me? I guess I just don’t see why.

“I’m not worth the hassle or worry. Everyone wastes their time with me. I’m not getting better — I can’t get better! So I removed the variable that was the issue. I removed the problem so you wouldn’t have to. I willingly took the swan dive, ‘cause sooner or later I was gonna self-destruct. I’m a fucking time-bomb, and you know it.”

Throughout your explanation Noah stared at you. He had made no attempts to interject or talk down on your feelings. He listened intently, and your heart aches.

But you can’t take the staring any longer. You wrench your hands away from Noah and stand from the couch. You wobble on your feet for a moment before you regain your balance, shuffling to the other side of the living room.

You turn to look at Noah to see him slumped against the back couch cushions. His arms are crossed over his chest and his eyes are still tracking you. Both feet are planted on the carpet.

“Would you stop looking at me like that?” you demand. “Like—Like I’m being irrational. Or, like—“

“Like I actually care about you?”

You fall silent at Noah’s interruption. His face is nearly expressionless, but you detect the minuscule frown on his lips.

“I’m not gonna stop caring about you, Y/N,” Noah continues, his voice low. You think he may be angry. “It’s not something I’m interested in doing. Because, yeah, I’ve seen all of the fucked up shit inside of you, but you’ve also seen it from me. You chose to stay too, right? So why would I want someone who doesn’t harbor a little bit of pain or agony? That makes you human, and that makes you you. ‘Cause believe me when I say that I am in love with you. Baggage and everything. But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Tears had begun falling from your eyes again. Your lips trembled slightly at Noah’s declaration. Your body was shaking.

You watch as Noah gets to his feet. You can’t help but fold your arms around your torso as he slowly approaches you. The blood pumping through your veins and roaring in your ears is deafening.

“I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.”

Noah pauses a few paces away at your words. He meets your eye for just a moment before you’re locking your gaze onto the floor.

“Okay. Then don’t promise. I don’t care if you hurt me, ‘cause I’m gonna stay either way.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“What if…” You sniffle as you tighten your hold on yourself. “What if I don’t want you to stay?”

“That’s not happening.”

“Noah, I—“

Noah takes the steps forward to reach you. “The only reason you don’t want me to stay is so you can convince yourself everything was your fault,” he told you. His voice is still low in pitch and peppered with a certain hardness. “I’m not gonna let that happen. None of this is your fault.”

Your instincts are screaming at you to fall into Noah. Every inch of your body is berating you to let this all go and let Noah back in. You both need each other, you know that. So why is this so goddamn hard?

His words hang in the air like a heavy fog. Your vision is blurry from tears. Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest. This has to end.

“Get out.”

Noah recoils a fraction at your unexpected statement. “What?”

“I said get out. I made my decision, and you need to respect that.”

“I’m not leaving.”

More tears cascade down your face. Every single one feels like acid eating away at your skin as you raise your head to look Noah in the eye.

“I’m not going to ask you again, Noah.”

Noah doesn’t protest. But you can see the tears in his eyes as he eventually backs away and goes for the front door. You’re shaking uncontrollably as you watch him open the door, chance a glance back at you, then leave. He gently shuts it behind him.

A void opens up in your chest. It yawns wide, a blackened abyss growing bigger and bigger inside of you, threatening to consume your soul.

God, what the fuck have you done? You are so in love with him, and you just let him leave like that. You can’t even begin to believe that you’re this fucking stupid.

But Noah left because he loves you. And that makes the tears fall harder and faster.

You can’t imagine a life where he isn’t there. Frankly, you don’t want to imagine such a life. In every past, present and future you have ever conjured up in your head, Noah has always been there. And you just ruined any chance of fulfilling a better future for both of you.

This can’t happen.

You’re not going to let this happen.

Without thinking you dash for the door and fling it open. At the other end of the fairly short hallway, near the elevator, is Noah. His head is hung and he’s holding his phone. You can’t see his face clearly, but there’s a foreign rigidness to his body that you wish you never have to see again.

“Noah!”

And at first Noah doesn’t react. Then he’s twisting his neck to look your way. The sight of you has him straightening his posture and sliding his phone back in to his pocket. You can see the rise and fall of his chest, a certain anxiety about him that hurts your heart.

Then you let out a loud sob, and Noah is racing for you without hesitation. He gathers you in his arms before your body crumples to the floor. You latch your fingers onto the fabric of his shirt as you cry against his shoulder. One of his arms is fastened around your abdomen while the other is along your shoulders, that hand slipping through your locks of hair and carelessly gripping at the roots.

“I’m sorry,” you sob against his body. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. God, I’m so stupid. I am so sorry—“

Noah cuts you off. “No, Y/N, do not apologize,” he tells you, his own voice thick with tears. “You’re not stupid, either. You were trying to do the right thing for you, and that’s okay. Never apologize for that. Okay?”

You manage to nod once. Then he’s carrying you back into your apartment in the direction of your room. He carefully sets you down on your bed and immediately joins you. There’s blankets around you and Noah is holding you tightly.

You bury your face in his neck with your arms coiled around his shoulders. His arms hold you against him, his head resting beside yours on the pillows.

The pillows were beginning to lose the smell of Noah’s cologne. You were worried they would have trapped the scent of Ryan instead over the past couple weeks, but all you feel is Noah. Every sense is overwhelmed by him and his presence. The feeling of his body against yours feels like coming home once and for all.

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x reader #x reader #bad omens #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #alex! ❪ 𖤐 ❫#alex’s writing! ❪ 𖤐 ❫

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spoilmesweetieforficssake · 11 months

Text

The Good, The Bad And The Very Ugly

So from what I've gathered, you all seem rather fond of a pregnancy fic and I was honestly astounded at the response to my attempts. I was even more surprised that there were a few comments asking for a follow up?!

Well, how could I not when you asked so nicely? This follows on this pregnancy fic rather than the single mom one (though there is a part 2 coming for that too!) and is one of 3 further one shots I have planned. So...all that is to day I hope you enjoy!

~*~

When you pad through to the kitchen with the intention of putting the kettle on, you don’t expect to find Melissa grasping the work surface, her breathing ragged and uneven. You immediately cross the space between you, laying one hand on her back and the other on top of the hand closest to you which has a white knuckle grip on the worktop.

“’Lissa, what’s wrong? What can I do?”

She just shakes her head, tears in her eyes, her breathing coming in short, sharp gasps.

You recognise the symptoms you realise; she’s having a panic attack. Prising her hands from the work surface, you hold them in your own, turning her to face you. Speaking slowly and as calmly as you can you ignore the tremble in Melissa’s hands and instead focus on getting her to breathe. It doesn’t happen immediately, but slowly, she responds to your quiet counting. You tug her close, leaning her head on your shoulder as you slowly stroke one hand up and down her back.

Her breathing begins to settle, but you know from her intermittent sniffles that her tears have not. The hand that still grasps your own finally loosens its death grip and you feel her shift so she can place her hand on your ever growing bump.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

She lets out a deep breath, finally pulling back to look at you. “I can’t help you,” she whispers.

You frown, not following. “You can’t help me? Help with that?”

“This,” she says, looking down at your stomach. “I feel like I pressured you into this and now you feel awful all the time and I can’t do anything to help.”

Smiling softly, you shake your head. “Mel, I wouldn’t have let you put a baby in me if I didn’t want this. And you didn’t put pressure on me. We had a discussion, lots of them actually, and we agreed that this was what we both wanted.”

She sniffles, her eyes red rimmed with tears. “But…”

“But what?” you prompt.

“But you’re miserable,” she grumbles.

You smile. “No, I’m not.”

She takes a few shuddering, hiccupping breaths. “It’s just hard, to see you going through all of this…the morning sickness that’s not just in the morning, being tired all the time because you don’t sleep so good, the aches that never go away and I just…”

“Exactly,” you breathe. “You’re right there with me. Mel, you’re literally there holding my hair and rubbing my back. If I didn’t have you I’d be miserable.”"

“But I’m useless!” she whines. “There’s nothing I can do to make you feel better and…what if something happens? It all went so wrong for me before.”

Fresh tears gather in her eyes and you gather her close in a gentle embrace. “A lot of things happened before,” you say softly. “For both of us, but it brought us here, and I for one can’t regret what went before if it brought me to you.”

You cover the hand that still rests on your bump, moving it slightly to ensure she can feel the movement beneath. Yes, it went wrong for her before, you know this. It’s the reason you’re carrying the precious cargo that is the product of how wrong it went for her before. It’s also part of the reason she’s so terrified something might happen. You’re carrying a piece of her. She’d gone through the ordeal of having her eggs frozen meaning that they’re a finite resource. The IVF wasn’t easy, but it worked, and all the checks so far have been promising. Everything is going well.

“Feel that?” you ask. “That’s your daughter, and she’s growing every single day. Yes, she’s using my body as an amusement park and it’s not cute, but she’s strong, Melissa. She needs you to be just as strong. I need you to be strong.”

She takes a few deep breaths before looking up at you. “I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” you smile sweetly, leaning in to kiss her. “I want this. I want you. I want this with you. Never doubt that,” you whisper against her lips. “If I had doubts about any of this, we wouldn’t be here.”

You lean your foreheads together. “But that little life you can feel under your hand? She’s here because I love you and I want this life with you and I know it’s scary and something might go wrong, but it also might not.” You pause, taking a deep breath before you continue. “But whatever happens, I’ll be here, because I will always want you.”

Your words come to a sudden stop as you make a run for the bathroom, leaving Melissa standing in her kitchen, tears in her eyes, still struggling to take in your words. She’s never had quite such a heartfelt declaration in her life. She’s still reeling as she moves on autopilot, fetching a glass of water and a pack of your mints before following you to the bathroom.

She sits next to you on the bathroom floor, despite the fact she knows she’ll probably need you to help her up afterwards. In a few weeks time you’re going to need Janine or someone suitably young and agile to haul you both up off the floor.

“See, where would I be without you,” you smile. “Sat on the bathroom floor and miserable.”

“I love you,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry about before.”

You shift until you can lean your head on her shoulder. “Never apologise for that,” you tell her, lacing your fingers with hers. “You’re allowed to be scared. Hell, so am I. But we’re in this together. I put up with the vomiting and feeling gross and disgusting and you put up with me, the good and the bad and the very ugly. It’s teamwork.”

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader

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quietwingsinthesky · 5 months

Note

Thoschei kiss without a motive :O

(hands to u my first writing of the morning) have some weird little guys

He’s getting used to breathing again.

Funny thing about coming back from the dead in a body that resists it, that would rather burn than focus on the beating of its own hearts: it was hard to remember he needed air. Hunger came much easier.

This body is alive now. A little radiation can be good for you, under the right circumstances. Even better with a taste of fate derailed and a glimpse of the Doctor’s wide-eyed shock, as if he was the only one who got to break the rules of time.

Hunger lingers. Hunger transforms. He’s growing restless inside the TARDIS’s walls. Not a prisoner — the Doctor has never been able to keep what he loves in a cage, always sets it free and doesn’t dare hope it loves him enough to return. Not free — where would he go? And besides, the Doctor can barely fly the TARDIS on his own. What if he went and crashed into a moon and forgot to regenerate because the whole ordeal was so humiliating? The Master can’t leave him.

The Doctor can’t look at him, most days. Others, he can’t look away. He’s bad for conversation whether he’s guilty or enraptured.

So the Master takes up sneaking into his room while he’s asleep. The Doctor would at least lock his door if he didn’t want it to happen, not that any lock would keep the Master out for long. The Doctor sleeps in awkward bursts, a familiar pattern that he’s never grown out of and the Master has always had to deal with. At least he manages to get into his own bed these days before passing out.

The Master perches over him. He watches the Doctor breathe and matches him. He doesn’t make a sound.

He’s bold enough to touch when the Doctor is deeply unconscious. He slides a hand over the Doctor’s chest and feels one heart, then the other, so slow and peaceful. Not like the humans he plays around with their jabbering single heartbeats, too fast and too loud.

He raises his hand to the Doctor’s throat. He likes this body’s neck. His hand fits so well around it. It would have been a shame to let the Doctor regenerate into someone that the Master’s hands might not belong on. His lazy pulse beats below the Master’s fingers, and his breaths echo from the Master’s own lips.

Up again, to his mouth, to feel the air pass back and forth.

He doesn’t think. He takes.

The Doctor’s mouth is slack and warm.

And then, his hand is in the Master’s hair before he can react, keeping him still and close.

When he’s allowed to pull back, the Doctor is watching him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t panic, as comfortable as before. The Master wonders how many times the Doctor’s been playing at sleep to lure him in.

“I thought you came in here to kill me, the first time,” the Doctor says calmly. “I prefer this.”

#asks #fanfiction #doctor who #thoschei #the master #the doctor #tenth doctor #simm!master #tensimm #god why do these fuckers have so many tags. what is wrong with them (affectionate)

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sarielsnowings · 7 months

Text

Awoooo ✨🌙

Spooky season is for SELF INDULGENT ART ONLY.

The paragraph that follows goes into my own body image issues around body hair and transitioning so if you don’t feel like reading some personal thoughts you can skip it! ^^ I just felt like sharing a bit of the thought process behind this piece.

I’ve been getting more hairy ever since starting testosterone (to be expected, of course) and I’ve had encountered feelings about it. On one hand it’s exciting to see the changes but on the other, having always been a fairly hairy person (and presenting feminine throughout my teens) I had a lot of self hate and insecurity around my body hair. It’s dark and strong and grows everywhere, but getting rid of it was an immense ordeal since I’d have to shave very often (and took forever to do so) and more long lasting methods like waxing or any other form of pulling hair out would usually just cause injuries. I felt ugly and unlovable because of something my body was just naturally programmed to do in order to keep me safe and protected. I’m glad I could change my mind, slowly dismantling all the fucked up expectations and beauty standards my surroundings (family, friends, society) had implemented so deep in my brain. For me, realising I was non binary was a huge help, as I didn’t feel like I had to conform to the idea of “womanhood” anymore, but most people don’t have the luxury of that first encouraging push! If you’re a woman, or if you’re anyone who’s ever felt pressured to have a particular relationship with your body hair (and your image in general), you should still be able to live your life as comfortably as possible within your body. You shouldn’t have to feel ashamed of the way you look. It should be YOUR decision whether you’d like to shave or not, for aesthetic reasons or comfort or health or otherwise! YOUR choice. Anyway… a few years have gone by, I’m glad I have a much healthier and kinder relationship with my body in that sense. Then I started testosterone treatment (which has made me incredibly happy so far) and I noticed more hair growing, and some of these thought came back to haunt me. The insecurity and fear… but I’m not 13 anymore. I’ve lived through the anxiety and the stress and the insecurity and now I can face this with new, slightly wiser eyes. And it’s alright. It’s ok! I look how I look, it’s cute! It’s affirming. I love seeing the changes, I love discovering the pattern in which my faint beard grows, just like a musketeer’s, I love my happy trail spiralling down into my bellybutton. And if I ever want to change things up, I can always shave, on occasion, but I’m glad I no longer feel like I HAVE TO. This new stage of hair growth made me think of werewolves and their transformation, and you know what? Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m not a ghoul, a vampire or a skeleton this Halloween. Maybe I’m a fluffy wolf howling at the moon. A wild creature baring fangs, eyes shining in the underbrush. A soft, tail-wagging friend happy to receive head-pats... It’s all good. I’m alright.

#sarielsnowingsart #Halloween #personal thoughts #werewolf #body image #body hair #queer artist #trans artist #non binary #furry #self portrait

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Note

Okay okay, i know she's a bully, a meanie and whatever. But can i request a girly sleepover with peach? Like doing our makeup, paint our nails and look pretty?

"Hey, Y/n - wanna have a sleepover this weekend?..." Peach nonchalantly shoves a stick of gum in your mouth before you can speak. "Great! Come over around nine on Friday. You don't have to worry about bringing anything besides your cute self and maybe snacks since you'll be here a while."

And that's how your weekend began - tossed at the mercy of preppy hybrid without preparation or a say in the whole ordeal. You arrive an hour earlier than she told you to on whim of the vague hints she left in her text messages leading up to the day. Peach has the nerve to act surprised seeing you there a whole sixty minutes earlier than planned, pulling her fluffy cream robe over her chest and flashing a flushed smile as she leans against the doorframe to let you in - batting her long lashes behind the bangs shielding her eyes.

"Y/n, oh my gosh, what a surprise! I didn't expect to see you for another hour I look hideous... but since you're here and everything else is already set up come on in."

Peach hooks her manicured nails in the meat of your arm and drags you inside her home. The whole house smells like someone burnt down an orchard centering from the candles lit up around her room. When Peach said you didn't need anything, she meant it. A foldable bed couch had been arranged beside hers, adorned with flower petals, a travel bag full of soaps and scrubs, and pajamas in your exact size.

Peach goes through your bag for the snacks you brought and a few other things then tosses what's left in her closet. While you're checking out the items and the extras you find under the bed, Peach grows bored of hiding away the things from your luggage she wanted to keep extra safe and stalks up behind you. Her blondish mane falling over your shoulders the only sign of her approach, Peach plucks you off the ground with one arm before you're fully aware and places you up on her bed.

She's surprisingly delicate as she pokes at your face and body like your some experiment in a lab, removing any accessories you were wearing and rolling up the sleeves of your pants. As she starts massaging the balls of your knuckles you feel it's safe to ask what she's up to.

"So... What are the plans for tonight?"

"Not too much. After I give you a bath and rinse out your hair, I want to get started on your nails while the cream I put in it dries. Spice gave me this new cuticle spray for my birthday that I think will be good for your nails too. While I'm doing your makeup, we can put on a movie in the background. You're absolutely adorable as is, but I want to see how your eyes will look with a little more flare, y'know? It's crazy how pretty you are naturally. I'd be super jealous and probably shove you in a busy street due to blind rage... if you weren't all mine~"

#Milk farm tag #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere blurb #female yandere #yandere hybrid #yandere fluff #Sorta

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akwolfgrl · 8 days

Text

I'm a great fuck but better lover 14

“Mossy are you ready to make up the gag to me?” Sanji's voice sang as he climbed into the crows nest.

“Umm…can I make it up to you tomorrow?” Zoro asked, hoping he would say yes, he needed Sanji to be in charge tonight. His back to the cook, he looked at vast wate waiting for an answer

“Depends” He heard the click of Sanji's lighter. “What did you have in mind?”

“Step me on me and degrade me, talk to me in that other language,” Zoro turned to look at Sanji, the breeze blowing his hair and smoke away from his face as he looked down on Zoro with a smirk.

“Putain, tu vas être ma mon chou, (Fuck, you are going to be the death of me cabbage,) ask nicely and I'll consider it,” Sanji spoke Zoro could see the tent in his thight pants condticring his casual tone.

“Come on don't make me beg,” Zoro grumbled his face growing warm.

“How about a simple plase that shouldn't be too hard for a simpleton like you,” Sanji teased him. “Or should I make you?” Sanji moved closer, grabbing Zoro's chin with hand. “Merde, pourquoi ta bouche est-elle si sexy ? J'ai hâte de le sentir se déformer autour de ma bite, (Dam why is your mouth so fucking sexy? I can't wait to feel it warped around my cock,)” Sanji took a drag of his cigarette and blew it into his face.

Zoro moaned, fuck if he wanted more he would have to say it, he'd have to beg like a dog.

“Please, please Sanji I need it,”

“Hmp I suppose that will have to do. You're lucky I'm feeling generous tonight,” Sanji let his chin go and took a step back before lifting on leg. The leggy blonde pressed his shoe against Zoro’s shoulder, pushing him back. “Sit like the dog you are, don't even think about touching that snow pea you call a dick. Not until I say so nous ne voulons pas que cela se termine trop tôt, n'est-ce pas? (don't want this to end too soon now, do we?)

Zoro groaned. Now that he had been told not to touch himself now he was desperate for it. Zoro pressed his hand against his cock thursting up seeking friction.

“Non, ce n'est pas comme ça qu'on joue ce soir, (Nope, that's not how we're playing tonight,)” Sanji kicked his hand away and replaced it with his own foot. “Hands to yourself, in fact, take your shirt off and play with your tits. I have to get something out of this ordeal,”

“Fuck curls, you and you boob obsaion,” Zoro grouched but did as he was told, he took his shirt off and began to fondle himself.

“Putain, pourquoi es-tu si chaud, c'est fou, (fuck why are you so hot, it's insane,) See I knew you do obey, just fir that I suppose I could be nice even if you don't deserve it,” Sanji pressed his foot against Zoros hard cock rubbing it with the sole of his shoe.

Zoro moaned. How much blood had been soaked on the shoes? How many people has Sanji killed? Zoro did not whine when Sanji removed his foot.

“Nuh moarimo, I ain't letting you get off that easily, lay back all the way. Or is that too difficult for you? I know your not the sharpest knife in the drawer, nor is your dick the biggest knife,” Zoro groaned as he began to lay back only to have Sanji press his foot againt his chest pushing his the rest of the way back. “To slow cactus head, thyght I'd help you out,” the blonde smirked at him.

“Fuck more curls, make it hurt,” Zoro grabbed Sanji by the angel trying to push down on his chest more.

“Is pain the only thing that gets you off, or is it being under me?” Sanji teased his foot, pressing down harder as Sanji leaned over blowing cigarette smoke in his face.

#one piece #fanfic #roronoa zoro #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #zoro #zoro x sanji #zosan #sexy content #smut #degrading k1nk #step on him #I'm a great fuck but better lover

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spreadyovrwings · 4 months

Text

64 Oslo Square

"Companion' Middle English. From Old French ‘compaignon', literally 'one who breaks bread with another.

Strapped for cash, John gets a job at a bakery as their new delivery boy. Juggling school and Queen and work is exhausting, but it’s more than worth it. It's worth it because of you.

Warnings for this chapter: obscene flirting... characters realising their life has more to it than their job? other characters learning other people aren't quite so scary and can be trusted? those two characters fancying each other like crazy? yeah.

Chapter Nine

Steam billowed from the kettle’s spout. You watched it swell and curl through the air, until it hit the low kitchen ceiling and dispersed. On the mantelpiece, your grandmother’s carriage clock chimed ten.

It was the longest you’d been able to sleep in in years. Though you’d been trying to cast your mind back all morning as you set about making breakfast, you couldn’t recall the last time you’d been able to go to bed without setting an alarm.

Though the days were growing steadily warmer as summer rolled in, mornings were still cold in your little flat. You tucked your chin under the collar of your thick woollen jumper and puffed out a breath to warm your body.

It had not been a good week.

It’s difficult to anticipate how one might react in a situation like yours. You thought if someone had asked you a few months ago what you might say if given life-altering news like the kind Gladys had given you, you probably would’ve said you’d rage and eff and blind until the problem righted itself. You’d go out fighting, at least. But when Gladys set off her grenade, you didn’t say a word. You just stared at her. You stared and stared, and stared some more.

It didn’t take long for you to find your voice, though. Not after Gladys started to describe the whole ordeal. She couldn’t seem to get the words out fast enough, it was like watching someone in confession. Her open mouth was like a gutter, gushing words and apologies and useless explanations until finally, you couldn’t take anymore.

“You selfish cow!”

John came into the room when the shouting started. Mickey was close behind. One of them put a hand on your shoulder, it must have been Mickey because the hand was heavy and solid like a slab of concrete.

“Skip…”

John slipped his fingers between yours, trying to bring you back down to Earth, but you barely felt him.

“How could you do this to us? To Mickey? To me?”

Gladys covered her face with her hands, her chunky rings glinting in the low lights.

“I’m sorry!”

“He’s just had a baby!”

“I know, I know-”

“This is my home!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m- I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t think in a million years he would-”

You stopped listening. John was murmuring close to your ear, telling you to stop now. His long fingers were wrapped tight around yours, keeping you grounded but only just.

“Sweetheart, leave her,” he murmured. “You should get some air. Just come with me and breathe for a second. Please.”

But that didn’t sound like a reasonable option either. You didn’t want to go outside. You didn’t want to keep having this conversation either. Standing here, shouting at Gladys, that was the only thing that made sense.

“How could you be so stupid.”

The words barely made it out from between your gritted teeth.

You felt John’s hand leave yours. Mickey too took a step back. They both seemed to realise this wasn’t their fight, this wasn’t something they had a right to be involved in, even though they were grieving too.

Gladys was the brightest, most joyous person you knew. She flitted from person to person like a hummingbird. With her brightly coloured hair and her clattering jewellery, she was as dazzling on the outside as she was on the inside. But right now, she seemed to have shrunk a few inches. Her colour had dulled. Her light had gone out.

“I just thought he was interested in me,” Gladys looked down at the floor, ashamed. “No one’s ever been interested in me. And he seemed so eager to learn about the bakery and I thought- I thought maybe he was just proud of me. For building this place. For doing something so amazing on my own. But I was wrong.”

You could still feel your pulse pounding in your neck and the base of your skull. You couldn’t recall ever feeling so angry and let down in all your life. Time seemed to be rushing by you, and all you wanted was for John to hold your hand again.

Gladys still couldn’t look at you. In a way, you were relieved. You didn’t think you’d be able to meet her gaze either.

It was difficult to order the feelings surging through you. You loved Gladys. You owed her so much. You’d do anything for her and until today, you would have sworn she’d always put you, or at least Oslo Square, above all else. Despite everything, she was a good person. You knew that. She was enticing and gregarious and too trusting and a fool. And she had let you down for the last time.

“I will never forgive you for this,” you said, then turned and walked into the kitchen, through the back door and out into the alley.

But you didn’t get far. You never would.

Sinking down on the bakery’s back step, you folded your knees up to your body and prayed the pressure would take the ache away. It didn’t. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the sob that lay in wait in the back of your throat.

Sun filtered through into the alleyway, falling on the ground in puddles of light. Above you, the sky was so clear, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. And you just wanted to cry and cry and cry.

There was a sound behind you, the scuff of a boot against the cement steps. You pushed your face into your crossed arms, not ready to face anyone just yet.

“Skip?”

It was John. Of course it was. Who else would they send after you?

He called you by your nickname again, then as he came to sit beside you, your real name, softer, more intimate.

Finally, you raised your head.

He was looking at you closely, his clever eyes switching across your face. He was trying to work out how upset you were, how carefully he needed to tread around you. That was just his way, John was just being a good friend, but right now, you didn't want kindness and gentleness, you just wanted to be left alone.

“John, I think maybe…”

“It’s going to be alright.”

It wasn’t like him to interrupt. Usually, John weighed every word with care, as if each syllable would cost him a great deal, or he had a finite number at his disposal. You had always admired that about him; everyone else in your life spoke so carelessly, like it didn't matter at all.

“John…”

“C’mon,” he said, nodding now, like he’d made up his mind about something. “Let’s go upstairs. We’ll have a cuppa and we’ll-”

You wrapped a hand around his arm and squeezed gently, asking him to stop without a word. John looked so crestfallen, you couldn’t bear it.

You stood up, crossing your arms over your chest, as if it would help to keep the sickness sitting in your throat at bay.

“I think maybe you should go home,” you said as gently as you could. “I’ll call you later. Okay?”

John looked surprised, then a little hurt. It shouldn’t have annoyed you but it did a little. He had no idea what you were going through, he should just listen and know that when you said you needed some time, you meant it.

But the small part of your brain that could still think clearly knew that wasn’t fair. If the roles were reversed, as they had been before, you knew you would badger John relentlessly until he was forced to talk about whatever was bothering him. But this wasn’t about an exam or a tiff with his band, this was your whole life, your whole future, and it had wrenched from your grasp without you even knowing it

“Okay.” John slowly rose to his feet, his hands awkwardly moving from his pockets to his hips, behind his back and then to his pockets again. “I’ll come see you. Later.”

You nodded, your lips pulled back in a grim smile.

“I’ll call you,” you said again firmly.

For a moment, John didn’t move, he didn’t even blink. Then finally, he seemed to get the message.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Just… Be careful with yourself, darling.”

Then he was gone and you were alone again.

That was two days ago. You hadn’t left your lonely flat since.

You poured boiling water into your favourite mug, waited a few minutes, then added the milk. Your movements were robotic, rehearsed, the habit of a lifetime that required no thought at all, and thank God, as you didn’t have the energy to think or feel much of anything.

The phone rang again but you didn’t even spare it a glance as you padded back to your bedroom and closed the door.

Life went on like this for a few more days before finally, you decided to pull yourself together. You got dressed, headed downstairs, and debated whether or not to turn on the ovens.

Mickey hadn’t come into work since the news. You couldn’t blame him, he had a baby at home and a wife to reassure. You had no one. Just an empty flat and a cold, silent bakery. But even that wasn’t yours anymore. Mickey phoned often enough though, asking if there were any updates and if he could do anything to help. You wished you had something to tell him.

You looked around at the old kitchen. The multicoloured tiles from renovation after renovation, the cookers and the ovens, all older than half the buildings on the road, the pots and pans, bowls and utensils, all lying unused. They seemed to stare at you, waiting for answers, just like Mickey, just like the customers you watched from your window, who passed by every day and soon left again, looking disappointed and confused.

Yeah, you thought, me too.

You grabbed some paper from behind the till, scribble a quick note, then sellotaped it to the door.

Closed until further notice.

You stared at the sign, letting the words truly sink in, then turned and went to go hide yourself away upstairs.

Then the door chimed.

“Skip?”

You looked up, heart pounding. It had only been a few days, but it was the longest you’d gone without seeing John for the best part of a year.

You’d somehow forgotten how tall he was, how lanky and gangly he looked standing in the bakery doorway, his perfect, long hair a striking contrast to his shabby clothes.

He smiled at you, shy and unsure, and you wished you could do more than stare back.

“Hi,” John said as he carefully pushed open the door all the way and finally stepped inside.

As the door rang shut again, you gritted your teeth. You thought if he’d asked, if he’d given you the choice, you probably would’ve said that now wasn’t a good time and he should come back later.

“Hi,” you said instead, and watched him pocket the key Gladys had given him on his first day.

John looked at you like he was waiting for you to say more. You couldn’t blame him for that. You’d led every conversation you’d ever shared, guiding him and teasing him, wheedling information out of him with a fine hook. Now, you couldn’t for the life of you think of anything to say.

“You haven’t been answering the phone,” John said eventually. “I was worried.”

He cautiously approached the desk. Perhaps he’d only just noticed the thick tension in the air, or maybe he was just having trouble pushing through it, but he seemed to take careful steps, his eyes fixed on you.

“Well,” You tried not to sound huffy but it came out all wrong. “I’m kind of dealing with something right now. I don’t have time for…”

“What?”

He was challenging you, daring you to say more. You clammed up, feeling chastised.

“Did you talk to Gladys?”

You nodded.

You’d spent the last few days in meetings with your boss, discussing what had happened, trying to figure a way out of this mess, going over the details and again and again until you were both exhausted and resigned to the idea that this place was no longer yours. Everything that Gladys had built, everything you’d worked for, was gone.

“What did she say? What’s going on?”

John came closer until he could rest his hands on the counter. You stared at them, following the outline of each of his long fingers.

He really did have such lovely hands. The round onyx ring he wore on his little finger, the silver one he always took off and pocketed when he was helping out, because it was Freddie’s and he didn’t want to ruin it. The little scars from his childhood and faded burns from mucking about with machines. You’d missed them.

“Did you fix it?”

You pressed your lips together and shook your head.

“No.”

At home, you blankly stared at the ceiling, at the television screen, into the mirror. It had slowly begun to dawn on you that outside of 64 Oslo Square, you had nothing. Friends you saw once in a blue moon, no hobbies, no interests, no idea of what the future would hold. Everything, you’d put everything into the bakery, your whole life. In just a few weeks, you’d even have to find a new flat. Everything was falling apart.

“There has to be something we can do. She’s made a mistake.”

“I know.”

“C’mon, love. We can sort this out.”

It was too much. It was just all too much. You didn’t want to hear positivity and hopefulness, you didn’t want anyone to be kind to you, especially John, not after the way you’d pushed him away. You didn’t want gentleness and softness, because it meant he thought something had happened to warrant that care, and you didn’t want to be someone who needed looking after. You didn’t want to be someone that had had something so awful happen to them.

“I can’t do this.”

You pushed away from the counter and moved into the kitchen, heading for the door to your flat. All you wanted was to crawl back into bed and shut out the world. Compartmentalism had got you nowhere, not when one of the best things about your job had turned up out of the blue asking you a million questions and caring about you far more than you deserved.

You didn’t expect John to follow you, but you heard his boots clunking against the kitchen floor, his voice soft and low as he called out again,

“Skip?”

You bit back a sob. You weren’t Skip anymore. You weren’t the captain of anything. You had no bakery, no business, no prospects, you were just- You were nothing.

“Leave me alone.”

You tried to sound forceful but the words got caught in your throat.

“Love, please-”

John was right behind you as you wrenched open the door up to your flat. You could hear his stupid boots on the stairs.

“John, I can’t-”

“Just talk to me.”

“You don’t understand!”

You stopped in the middle of the stairs and span around. It must have taken John by surprise because he staggered to a halt, one foot hanging in midair, as if he’d been in the middle of a step.

“In a month, I won’t have a home or a job, and this place will be packed up and turned into luxury flats or some half-arsed storefront selling overpriced street food to bastards like him, and I won’t have anything.”

It was as if someone else was doing the talking. You could almost believe you were standing beside yourself, watching as you shouted at John, your eyes shining and your jaw tight. You wanted to tell yourself to stop, that he didn’t deserve to be talked to like that, but you couldn’t close the floodgates.

“And you, you’ll swan off with your band or pack it in and become an engineer, and you’ll forget all about us and this place, and I’ll never see you again.”

John’s eyes flashed but his expression was as neutral and measured as ever.

“That’s not going to happen,” he said evenly. “You really think that little of me?”

“Oh, shut up, I was only-”

“Don’t tell me to shut up. You don’t get to decide how much I care about something. Alright?”

“Why would you care? You’re just the delivery boy. Some student Gladys took pity on cos she can’t resist strays.”

“I love this place too, you know I do. Things aren’t as easy for me as you think.”

You scoffed. It annoyed you that he could be so rational and calm at a time like this, when all you wanted to do was shout and accuse and lash out.

“Oh, poor John. It must be so hard for you, being a genius and having to choose between being rich and famous and being a bloody rocket scientist, or whatever the fuck it is you do. Life must be so difficult.”

Finally, John scowled. He moved closer, so now he was on the step just below yours, your faces level for the first time.

“You don’t know anything about my life.”

“Not for lack of trying!”

“You’re so- I’ve given you more of myself than I’ve ever given anyone!”

“Oh, well lucky me.”

“God, you’re-”

“What?”

“You’re…”

John trailed off. He seemed to realise, at the same time as you, just how close you were to each other.

You waited, hardly daring to breathe. John was maybe a few inches away, his chin tilted up ever so slightly so that he could meet your gaze. His pretty, silvery green eyes were fixed on yours, as if to make a point. You were fighting the same urge, to not look down at his lips, angled so perfectly up towards you, it was enough to make your chest lurch.

Slowly, so slowly it was almost painful, you watched as John’s gaze finally slipped and he glanced down at your mouth. Surrender. You followed immediately, and felt time speed up again. You caught your breath. Your heart was hammering so hard, you were sure John must’ve been able to hear it, feel it.

John’s gaze dropped again and stayed for longer this time, very obviously debating something that terrified and excited you all at once. It was just a matter of who would give in first.

“We’re not going to kiss,” you whispered, not trusting your voice. “Not like…”

You made the mistake of letting your eyes fall to his lips again, one last time. They parted ever so slightly, an invitation, like he was asking you to give in and take what you’d been wanting for so long. You pressed your lips together and immediately regretted it. You’d given yourself away.

The corner of John’s mouth twitched up into a little smile.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured. “You said some horrible things to me.”

You pulled in a lungful of air and closed your eyes. The moment was gone, but it still took you a second or two to get your feet back on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” You rubbed your tired eyes, feeling guilty and ashamed and dizzy all at once. “I was being stupid.”

John shrugged.

“Just because it was hurtful doesn’t mean it wasn’t accurate.”

“Still, I’m being an idiot. I’m sorry, John. It’s been a fucking awful week.”

He smiled to let you know he understood. Then his eyes dropped to your mouth again, just for a second, but you couldn’t have missed it.

“Not like what?” he asked softly.

“What?”

“You said ‘We’re not going to kiss. Not like…’. Not like what?” John raised his eyebrows. “Not like this, you mean?”

It hadn’t occurred to you that you’d spoken those words out loud. It was jarring to hear John repeat them back to you, and even more surprising to realise that’s exactly what you meant.

You nodded.

“Not like this.”

This wasn’t the right time, as much as it pained you. He was so close, looking up at you so sweetly, telling you how much he cared about you and that he just wanted to help. But John was right, you’d been horrible to him, and you were so sad you could barely breathe. When you did kiss him, you wanted it to be right, you wanted it to be good, you wanted to make the world stop turning.

John nodded, looking down at his ridiculous shoes. When he looked up again, his gaze still lingered antagonistically around your mouth. You wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

“When then?”

“What?”

“When can I kiss you?”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed.

“When you get me my bakery back.”

John grinned. He had such a lovely smile, so bright and honest.

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Promise?”

John crossed his index finger over his heart.

“Promise.”

You beamed at each other. For a moment, it was as if nothing had changed, like nothing was wrong, or could ever be wrong. Because John was here and he was smiling at you, and he wanted to kiss you and knew you wanted to kiss him. But then reality slowly seeped in, harsh and so cold, it made you shiver.

“It’s hopeless, John,” you murmured, and pressed your face into your palms.

John wrapped his long fingers around your forearms and squeezed gently. When he carefully pulled your hands away from your face, you saw he was smiling sweetly.

“Shall I stick the kettle on?” he asked.

You’d never heard anything more romantic in your life.

You led him up the stairs to your flat and let him make you a cup of tea, while you sat on the sofa and watched him move around in the kitchen.

It was only tiny. Even ‘kitchen’ was a generous word, it was just the two sideboards, the hob and some cupboards set into the wall, but John moved around them as if he’d lived there all his life, and you were, once again, assured that he was fated to be 64 Oslo Square’s delivery boy.

“I was thinking about finding a flat. For after uni.” John handed you a mug and sat down beside you. “You could, um… Maybe I could start looking now and… You know, obviously we don’t know when things will… But I could look and…”

You blinked at him.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

John’s cheeks were tinged pink.

“I just want you to know you have options. I know you’re going to figure this out, but I want you to know you have somewhere safe to stay.”

Your chest squeezed as a wave of affection washed over you. How did you ever get so lucky? It was a small relief, in a way, to know that no matter what happened, you had a friend in John. The idea of moving into a flat together felt unreal right now. The more you pondered on it, the more the severity of your situation seemed to settle in.

“There’s nothing to figure out, John.” You sighed. “Gladys signed the paperwork. You know, she didn’t even really understand what she was signing? He got her drunk then pushed the papers across the table and told her he wanted to invest in the bakery, she just had to sign. Daft cow.”

“How’s Mickey taking it?”

“He’s alright. He’s a fantastic baker, he could find a job anywhere.”

“So could you.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You’re joking. Everything you make is incredible! And you’re passionate and you’re dedicated… You could find somewhere else. Maybe start your own place someday.”

You laughed softly, embarrassed by the compliment. His faith in you was flattering. No one had ever said anything like that to you before.

You reached out and took John’s hand, folding your fingers between his and interlocking them, as if you’d done it a million times before.

“You’re so sweet. But I can’t.” You squeezed his hand gently. “I started working here when I was sixteen. Have I told you that?”

John shook his head.

“I used to pass by on my way to school. Me and my friends would come in every Friday. And every day, Gladys was there, behind the counter. And she was mad and funny and she let us stay all afternoon, even though we only had enough money for a cuppa and a cake. And when I left school, there was one place I wanted to work.”

You looked up at the photo of you, Gladys and Mickey on your mantelpiece. Your tiny, ridiculous, mismatched family.

“I was just behind the counter at first, like you. But it was fun, it was a living. Then Shaz, the head baker back then, she started letting me help out. I loved it so much. The time things took. The attention to detail. The warmth of the kitchen. And it’s stressful but it’s full of love. You know? Everything we make is…”

You squeezed John’s hand again.

“When you see people smiling because of the things you make… It’s the best feeling in the world. I asked if I could start working as a baker and Gladys agreed, and even knocked a bit off the price of this place.”

Together, you looked around at your tiny flat. It wasn’t much but it was home, it was yours. You’d never had anything that was just yours before, and you couldn’t stress it enough, the importance of having space, having ownership, a room of one’s own, especially for a working class woman in 1973, especially for someone making it on their own.

“This is my home, John. And these people, they’re my family. I had nothing and the bakery gave me a purpose. I can’t just find somewhere else. I can’t. I can’t. It’s Oslo Square or nothing.”

John watched you for a moment, and you wondered if maybe you’d bored him with your outpouring. You wouldn’t be shocked. But then he raised your interlocked hands and held them to his chest.

“I’ll get it back for you. I promise.”

You laughed softly. He’d surprised you yet again.

“Where did you come from, New Boy? You really are an angel, aren’t you.”

“I don’t know about that.” John shyly glanced away. “The bakery means a lot to me too now. I want to help. If I can.”

Was it too early to revise your ‘no kissing’ policy? You really wanted to kiss him. Actually, kissing John would probably fix most of your problems. Or, at the very least, make them much easier to deal with. God, you could probably make him moan with just a kiss, you could tell from looking at him that he’d be a noisy one. Or maybe he’d lay you back on the couch and run those stupidly big hands all over you, playing you like one of his instruments. You wouldn’t mind that at all.

“Skip?”

You blinked. John was looking at you expectantly.

“Oh, sorry,” You gave him a wonky sort of a grin. “Just a bit tired, I think.”

John didn’t look like he believed you but he let you off the hook.

“I think you need to get out of the house.”

You had to agree. Aside from nipping to the shops for the essentials, you hadn’t left your flat since Gladys’ news.

“Where do you wanna go?”

“Well, actually,” John said guiltily. “I have to meet the lads at three. I wondered if you wanted to come.”

“To watch you rehearse?”

“It’ll probably be really boring for you, but you’ll get to see a few arguments. And we can get lunch first or dinner after or… I don’t mind, I just want you with me.” John blushed. “But you can say no, I didn’t mean to-”

You laughed softly. He really was the sweetest boy alive.

“I’d love to, John.”

That afternoon, Queen were rehearsing in a studio space in South London. John was tempted to grab the tube but you convinced him onto the bus, remembering, as you handed over your change to the driver, that he’d once admitted he was nervous about travelling that way. If he was going to be a proper Londoner, you thought, he had to learn how to use the buses, and the 49 seemed as good a place to start as any.

You watched John watch the world go by. He really was so beautiful and he had no clue. He had some semblance of an idea that he was alright, you knew that. The way John preened in front of every passing mirror told you so. But he didn’t see the lovely slope of his strong nose, or the way his grey eyes shone every time he saw something that piqued his interest, or the way his lovely, funny mouth twitched at the corners just before he was about to murmur something to you in that lovely, funny voice.

You’d tell him, you decided. Soon. You’d tell him just how beautiful you thought he was.

It was only when you followed John through the quiet, carpeted corridors of the recording studios that you began to feel nervous. You’d never been anywhere like that before, it was a foreign land.

As you passed, you peered through the porthole windows of every door to catch glimpses of steely grey microphones and mixing desks in big glass boxes. It was like something out of a film, something you’d only ever seen in magazines and photographs.

John seemed totally at ease. You supposed you were seeing him in his world for the first time. He would protest, he was a scientist, an engineer, he wasn’t a rockstar, but he was a musician, through and through. This world of dials and crossfades and endless electric cables suited him very well.

Eventually, he pushed open a door and held it open for you, gesturing for you to go in first.

The room was only small, probably all he and his friends could afford to hire by the hour. In the corner sat a shiny, black grand piano. Freddie tapped on the keys, humming under his breath as if building a tune just from a few plaintive notes. Next to that, there was a row of guitars all standing to attention, and a drum kit, steadily being put together to just the right requirements by Roger.

He looked up when the door opened.

“Hi, John. We were just saying-” Roger stopped in his tracks and immediately brightened when he saw you come in. “Bakery girl!”

“Hiya, Rog.”

You laughed as he came over to give you a big hug. It had been a while since you’d seen John, so it had been even longer since you saw his friends. You were sure Roger was only sweet to you because he knew it annoyed John but you were more than happy to play along.

John waited until Roger had gone back to his drum kit to stop frowning.

“Brian not here yet?” he asked, a little gruffly.

Freddie scoffed.

“He’s late. Again. He’s teaching somewhere in Balham. He’ll probably be hours, you know how he likes to bang on. You don’t play guitar, do you, love?”

You smiled shyly as Freddie also came over to greet you.

“No, sorry. Just the recorder in Year 3.”

“Ah, you’ll fit right in.”

Freddie beamed.

You didn’t know him as well as Roger but every time you saw Freddie, you practically tripped over yourself to befriend him. He was just so cool, so beautiful, his voice soft and his mannerisms so enchanting. He drew you in, just as he did the crowds when he was on stage, like a siren beckoning in beguiled ships.

“How are you doing?” Freddie held you by the shoulders as his soft dark eyes searched yours. “We’ve heard about this awful business with that twat. Andrew, was it?”

“Alastair.”

“That’s the bastard.” Freddie shook his head. “I’m so sorry, love.”

You wondered how much John had told them. By all accounts, he wasn’t the most talkative of people. In fact, you were still getting used to how much he spoke now. If you compared the boy standing beside you to the boy who first anxiously walked into the bakery that cold January night, you would almost say they were completely different people.

“Thanks, Freddie.”

“Are you staying?” asked Roger.

You glanced at John and he shot you an encouraging smile.

“If it’s okay with you lot?”

“Make yourself at home!”

You found a seat off to the side, just behind John’s amp.

You couldn’t help staring, transfixed, as he got himself set up. You could watch his hands forever, the way his fingers slipped over the strings, how the instrument fit perfectly against his body. Even watching him plug in his bass was mesmerising. It all just seemed to come so naturally to John, as most things did. He really was wonderful.

Queen warmed up slowly, giving Brian more time to turn up, and as they did, they passed ideas back and forth to each other. It was like a foreign language. Musical terms, notes, lyrics, pacing, you didn’t understand any of it, though you loved to listen to the boys figure it all out together.

For the most part, Freddie and Roger talked back and forth, while John watched, thumbing pensively at the thickest string of his bass as he waited to play. But you noticed how they never decided anything without consulting John for the final say, and his word seemed to be gospel.

John looked back at you over his shoulder and shot you a rare confident smile. You just had time to blush before the door opened and Brian fell in, apologising and shaking his head so that his wild, dark curls danced.

Brian waved to you but didn’t waste any time chatting. He grabbed his guitar and struck up a chord that filled the room with that familiar, quintessentially them sound.

They were magic to watch. You couldn’t wait to see what they became.

Soon, Freddie started to complain that he needed a drink to soothe his raw voice, and Roger and Brian went with him. They asked if you and John wanted anything but you both declined quickly, eager to be alone together again.

As soon as the door shut behind them, John turned to you properly and smiled. He nodded down at his bass, asking wordlessly if you’d like to try.

Grinning, you nodded too, and tried not to look too pleased as he ducked out of the strap. John gently lifted it over your head, and you tried to keep still as he settled the bass against you. You’d never held a bass guitar before. You hadn’t expected it to be so heavy.

“Oof, wow.”

You rolled your shoulders back, adjusting your posture so that you could balance its weight better.

“I know,” John’s hands skirted over your shoulders, making sure the strap was sitting comfortably first before he came round to stand in front of you. “I’ll have a terrible back when I’m an old man, I’m sure of it.”

Trying to remember how his hands moved when you watched him play, you lifted your left hand and pressed the tip of your index finger against the first metal string. It was thick and strong, and indented your skin as you pressed down. You couldn’t imagine how he managed to play so quickly, so deftly. The instrument seemed ungainly and oversensitive to you.

“You make it look so easy.”

John just smiled.

It was nice to see him in his element, to see him confident and sure of himself. He’d had once told you that he only picked up the bass because his first band needed it. You found it hard to believe, John and the bass, they seemed made for each other.

“You’ve almost got it. Here.”

You held your breath as John moved to stand behind you again. His left hand came up to cover yours, gently twisting your wrist around so that it was positioned nicely under the neck. With his other hand, he plucked a few notes on the lowest string, then took your index finger between his and showed you how to curl it just right. You swallowed thickly, and hoped he wouldn’t be able to hear your shaky breaths.

“Feels funny,” John said as he watched you pluck out a few tentative notes. “Me teaching you something for once.”

Face hot, you just tried to concentrate on playing right.

“You’re a much better baker than I am a bassist.”

John moved closer to correct your left hand, and now his chest was pressed up against your back. You tensed, trying to keep as still as possible but it was difficult to concentrate with him so close. All questions about whether he was doing it on purpose left your head when he spoke softly by your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

“I don’t know,” John let his hand slip down your forearm, just as it did the neck of his bass, and tentatively let it rest just above your waist. “Looks pretty good from where I’m standing.”

You stopped attempting to play, it was pointless. You couldn’t so much as hold a thought in your head, let alone carry a tune. You turned your head to the side until you could just see John out of the corner of your eye.

“You’ve taught me a lot, you know,” John went on. “Not just the baking. You’ve made me much braver.”

His big hand felt heavy against your side. You were suddenly hyper aware of the slightest movement of each of his fingers. While his other arm was slung across the body of the bass, his fingers tucked underneath it to support its weight, the fingers of his left hand pressed into your soft waist ever so slightly and you had to hold back a gasp. You were touching so much, it was insane, you could barely remember your own name.

“I think I just bullied you into talking more.”

Your voice was shaky and low. You knew John would catch it but you didn’t care. You were too busy thinking about how warm his chest felt against your back, and how if you angled your hips just right, you could sink back into him until his hips were fitted against your arse. Then John spoke again, so close now that it felt like his lips were close to brushing your neck

“I’m glad you did.”

You could practically feel him smile against your skin as he added,

“You’re good for me, I think.”

Slowly, carefully, you turned your head a little further, and John shifted around so that you could meet each other’s gaze properly.

His confidence seemed to slip the moment he knew you could see him, but the hand that rested heavily on your waist slipped down to your hip and squeezed.

“I think you’re good for me too,” you said, and smiled when John blushed under your gaze.

There was no space between you at all. Just one move, one inclination of your head, one press of John’s hand, and you’d be in his arms, your fingers in his lovely hair, your mouth pressed against his with only the bass between you, and suddenly the worst week of your life would be over.

You had just the wherewithal to realise how wrong you’d been. You thought you were alone, you thought you had no life outside of the bakery, but here you were, in the arms of the sweetest boy you’d ever known, listening to his band create some of the best music you’d ever heard, and John truly believed everything would be okay. Maybe you ought to trust him.

John let out a short breath, the corners of his mouth turning upwards, as if he too was nervous and excited and uncertain all at once. How sweet it was to know he felt exactly what you were feeling.

“What you said about, erm, no kissing till I’ve got your bakery back,” John murmured, his pretty eyes fixed unashamedly on your mouth. “Is that a… Is that a hard and fast rule? Or more like a suggestion?”

You smiled, and watched John’s adam’s apple bob in his lovely throat.

“What do you think, pretty boy?”

It was very clear from the look in John’s eyes what he thought about that. He bent his head, slowly and with great consideration, just like with everything he did, until the tip of his nose brushed yours. You felt your eyes close without you needing to think about it, your lips parting as you heard John say,

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting t-”

“Oh, have we got a new bassist? Lovely.”

Your eyes snapped open in time to see Freddie swoop into the room with a drink in his hand. He was smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

“I can’t tell you how pleased I am, love. You’ll look much better in the costumes.”

John begrudgingly moved away but he was smiling to himself. Caught. When his hands left you, it felt like all the air had come rushing back into the room.

The boys chatted as they filed back in, passing around ideas and thoughts on the next show, but you could barely hear them over the sound of your own heart thumping in your ears.

John stayed close. You couldn’t be more relieved. After today, after this week, you never wanted him to move out of arm’s reach again.

“Thanks for today,” you whispered to him, when you were sure the others wouldn’t hear you. “I needed this.”

John shrugged, then carefully helped you out from under his bass. He slipped it over his head, then swung the guitar round so that it wouldn’t bump against you as he took your hand in his.

“You’ve saved me enough times. It’s about time I returned the favour, Captain.”

“I’m still Captain, am I?”

“Of course! You’ll always be my captain.”

“I was worried… I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see me anymore, now you don’t have to.”

John smiled.

“It wasn’t the bakery I was coming to see, love. I haven’t been getting up at the crack of dawn and peddling across half of London for the bakery. I didn’t suffer scraped knees and a daft helmet for Gladys and her bloody ancient coffee machine.”

You marvelled at this for a second, then you smiled.

“It’s Mickey, isn’t it.”

John laughed.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Can’t get enough of the bloke.”

“I knew it, I knew it.”

”It’s the arms.”

“Who can blame you.”

Master List

#john deacon #queen #john deacon x reader #john deacon reader #john deacon fic #queen fic #john deacon x you

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peach-and-bugs · 1 year

Note

Could you write an adult Shauna Shipman x f!reader one-shot with quote 6 "I feel like you've got a hand on me at all times" "Maybe that's because I'm irrationally afraid that you'll disappear on me if I let go"

Ir could be something like, one day f!reader gets into an accident and almost d*es and after that Shauna doesn't let f!reader out of her sight because she's afraid that she'll loose her like she lost Jackie all those years ago

Thank you if you'll do it <3

💙Slipping Like Satin - Shauna Sadecki x fem!Reader💙

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: During the scuffle to try and catch the blackmailer, y/n is injured and Shauna hasn't left her alone since.

Warnings: Swearing, guns, blood, general angst

Word Count: 1,663

A/N: Hello Loves! I'm trying out a new header for my next couple of fics! I might tweak it to get the style to be something I like more, but I'm excited about the new aesthetic. But this has been a request that I've been saving till I knew exactly how I wanted it to go, and while it's still not exactly what I wanted, I'm pretty happy with it, so I hope you enjoy! As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!

Shauna Shipman/Sadecki Tag List:

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💙-

“God damn it, Natalie, I knew this was a terrible idea!” You heard Shauna scream, her voice growing shrill as her throat squeezed with upset. It had hardly registered yet, but you began to feel a hot pain on the skin of your upper bicep. Your hand was squeezing the spot, and when you moved it away, you could see a glistening red sticky on your fingers in the orange light.

“Fuck. We’re completely fucked!” Natalie barked back, running her hands through her hair as she began to pace in a circle. Only then did you notice the gun in her hand. You bit your lip, swallowing thickly as you looked back down at your fingertips. That is till Shauna moved in front of you, taking your hand in hers.

“Hey, it’s ok. You’re alright,” she murmured in a hushed voice. You began to nod but didn’t say a word. Getting shot didn’t actually hurt as much as you might have anticipated prior, you now realized. “Can I have a look?” Shauna asked though she was already moving your arm gently with her shaking hands. Anxiety knit her brow as she tried her best to keep her breathing steady.

“Tai, can you come look?” She asked, gently adjusting your sleeve to get a look at the wound. Taissa moved beside her, pulling out her phone to turn the flashlight on. They both examined the area with furrowed brows and frowning lips.

“It looks like it only grazed her,”

“Should we get her to a doctor?” Shauna’s voice was low and hushed like she was trying to keep the thought of a doctor out of your head. Or maybe it was Natalie’s. The brunette still seemed quite upset with the whole ordeal. Taissa took another look before she shook her head.

“No. If we clean and bandage it good she should be alright,” she brushed at the wound with her finger just too close and you took in a hissed breath through your teeth, your nose scrunching at the sting. You heard Shauna gasp, her eyes widening ever so slightly as her grip tightened. Taissa retracted her hand but you managed a smile with a small chuckle.

“Let’s just get this patched up, ok? I’ll be completely fine,” your eyes wavered to Shauna for the last bit. You might have been attempting to assure her more than yourself, but you weren’t too sure.

If you were being honest, you didn’t remember the whole affair all that well. Mostly there was confetti, or maybe it had been glitter? It was something colorful and it got in your eyes, that’s all that mattered. It was followed by more of a foot chase before you burst out into a parking lot in time to watch the blackmailer driving off. You thought that had been the end of it, till you heard the sound of a gunshot, followed by a clank of metal. Most of what you could remember was just recounting what the others had said, but you wouldn't admit that. You knew Shauna would freak about the whole thing more if she knew.

She had been showing up on your doorstep nearly every day after that night. She argued it was to check on your injury, though you could handle it yourself. She’d been insistently clingy recently. She doesn’t talk to you for just under a decade then all of the sudden she’s showing up at your door with food and various banned goods like clockwork. She might as well move into your apartment with how often she was dropping in, keeping tabs on your every move. It was likely from her sixteen years as a mom, and you appreciated a little help every now and then, but it was becoming a little much. You thought of all of this while on the toilet, anticipating Shauna might be waiting outside the door.

She didn’t turn up right outside the door as you thought, but walking back into your apartment's main room, you found her scurrying around your kitchen, as though she was attempting to appear as though she’d been busy in your absence. She’d pulled carrots out of the fridge and some other vegetables she was now prepping.

“What are you doing now?” you tried your best not to sound irritated, though it might have been hinted under your tongue. Shauna’ pressed her lips in a line and shrugged, seemingly trying to look casual as she shrugged.

“I thought I’d make a soup,”

“You don’t need to do that, I can make food,” She nodded but didn’t look up from her carrots. You stood still, simply watching her without a word, trying to configure what could be going on in that head of hers. Yes, you’d been in an accident. Technically you'd been shot, but not really. It was scary for everyone involved. But it wasn’t a big deal! You were clearly doing fine. You’d been cleared by your doctor, though they only thought it was grazing from a bad fall. Why was she suffocatingly all over you? Your brow creased and you frowned, looking away.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” You didn’t wait for her to look up before turning around and going back to your bedroom. You leaned your back and head against your shut door, now safe in the seclusion of your room. You didn’t mean to be, well, mean. But this sudden attention was unfortunately discomfiting. You felt fragile under your care. You hadn’t felt fragile in years. Probably not since ‘96. You shivered at the thought of what happened back then. Shaking the thought away, you rubbed your eyes with your fingers. Sleep. That’s what you needed right now. Sleep would make those thoughts go away.

-💙-

You woke up to a thumping sound somewhere in your apartment. The sound itself didn’t wake you, but it didn’t help any chances of falling asleep again. You sat up with a long yawn, dragging yourself out of bed only to notice it was now dark outside. You sniffed, leaving your room and padding out into your main living space. A warm aroma met your nose and you recalled Shauna’s soup. You were also reminded that Shauna was likely still here.

Sure enough, there she stood by your desk, your back turned to you. Her shoulders shook as you got a better look at her. Your brow furrowed and you bit your lip.

“Shauna?” Your voice was rough with sleep. Her name pulled her out of her head and she turned with a shameful look in her eye. She frantically wiped away tears that strew down her cheek. It wasn’t till you noticed what was in her hands and on the deck that you understood. She began to weakly apologize but you shook your head, silently approaching her. Her body was tense as you moved forward. She couldn’t realize it till you tenderly took the photos from her hands, fingers brushing over hers. She watched as you stroked the cheeks of the smiling girls, captured in a time capsule of Polaroid.

“I can’t believe you kept these,” Shauna murmured, her eyes wandering back down to the unearthed box sitting on the desk. You shrugged, smiling sadly.

“It felt wrong not to,” you mused with a hollow sigh. “I don’t look at them often,” Shauna chuckled when a thought came to mind.

“You were so excited to get that camera,” you nodded, letting out a soft laugh of your own.

“My parents rarely gave us holiday gifts early. They told me I should ‘capture the highlight of my teen soccer career,’” Your smile wavered sadly as you flipped through the photos. “Who knew that camera would only capture the worst few months of our lives,”

“We didn’t have it for the worst part,” Shauna corrected. You felt yourself tear up and forced a sarcastic laugh.

“Thank god I ran out of film,” you took in a long, sad sniff of air. Shauna’s eyes softened, growing wide as she began to cry again. Her arms found their way around her shoulders she pulled you in. Given the unexpected contact, you dropped the photos in your hands, sending them fluttering to the ground below you. You gave into her, going limp in her arms with your hands hung wilm at your sides. She held onto you so tight as you cried together. In so many ways it felt like mourning. You still mourned those you lost, the things you'd done, and the girlhood that had been so swiftly taken away.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed into her neck over and over as she told you to hush and save your words, but you couldn’t help it. You needed her to know “But I’ve been so mean to you this past week, and I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve felt like you’ve had a hand on me at all times and it scares me,” you cried, finally wrapping your arms around her back, hands squeezing desperately to the back of her cardigan. She let out a watery laugh and nodded her cheek against your forehead.

“Maybe that’s because I’m irrationally afraid that you’ll disappear on me if I let go,” She smiled as she said it, eyes shut tight. You knew just by the way her voice broke that it wasn’t a smile of joy, but one that held onto all the grief she forced herself to carry with her. You felt it too as you let out your own pitiful laugh of melancholy. You shook your head against her neck.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here, ok,” you pulled away from her just enough to see her face, holding her cheeks between your hands. “I’m right here,” there was an urgency in your voice as your lip quaked, tears still spilling. She took a long break, sniffling heavily as she shakily nodded. You smiled and nodded again, running your hand over her hair.

“I’m right here,”

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