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envy-of-the-apple · 2 months

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The Sun Eats the Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 9.1k

Part two: Earth Kills the Moon

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping attempt, hint of pregnancy kink)

You wanted to quit the second you read the name.

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place.

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now.

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client.

"Is everything alright?"

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke.

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired."

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited.

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics.

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention.

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice.

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps.

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes.

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face.

Nothing.

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next.

"I look forward to working with all of you."

𖤓

If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial.

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order.

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way.

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too.

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you.

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?"

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks."

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours.

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms.

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching.

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru.

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch.

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair.

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines.

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted.

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class.

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it.

"What?" Because you must have misheard him.

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official."

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours.

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop.

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine.

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore.

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes.

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.

𖤓

It was something minuscule.

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always.

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey.

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her.

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out."

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life."

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger.

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru.

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help.

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that.

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break.

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing.

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator.

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!"

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle.

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you.

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen.

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him.

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that.

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him.

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back.

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down.

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it.

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares.

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything.

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend.

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg.

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open.

It's worse than anything you could think of.

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you?

This wasn't bullying.

This was abuse.

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired.

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky.

"Why?"

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group.

"Get lost."

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone.

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored.

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-"

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away.

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?"

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear.

"Anything, right?"

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek.

"Get on your knees."

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little.

"I-I-Gojo you-"

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?"

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru.

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk.

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him.

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh.

"Gojo I-"

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems."

You look down at the grass. Green, soft.

"Satoru."

His eyes flash in satisfaction.

"Open up, pretty girl."

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you.

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought.

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?"

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame.

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you.

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth.

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me."

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world.

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?"

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it.

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help.

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time.

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath.

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you."

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum.

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something."

You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him.

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair.

"My laptop...it's broken."

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it.

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you.

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his.

The sunset is pretty today.

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied.

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from.

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?"

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf.

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait."

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts.

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her.

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright.

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting."

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs.

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way.

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to.

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go.

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you.

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable.

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework.

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips.

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever.

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom.

"Thank-"

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me."

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself.

There are theories that the Moon once had color.

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at.

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too.

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him.

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons.

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?"

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment.

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken.

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours.

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now.

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action.

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone.

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can.

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch.

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you."

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock-

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's.

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing.

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you.

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?"

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again.

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust.

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper.

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl."

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar.

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious.

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him."

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock.

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch.

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need.

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt.

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration.

"I love you."

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh.

Fuck three weeks.

You needed to get out, now.

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there.

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours.

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out.

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there.

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room.

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction.

"You're off the clock, Fimo," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?"

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke.

The door shuts with a click.

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward.

You take one back. He puts his hands up.

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?"

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood.

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody.

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too.

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes.

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules."

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked.

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent.

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless.

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text."

His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake.

You go to move.

Satoru's faster.

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment.

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze.

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness.

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-"

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt.

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client.

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him.

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless.

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears.

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar."

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words.

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses.

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now."

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again.

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic.

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily.

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?"

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too.

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall.

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action.

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar.

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate.

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate.

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste.

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits.

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed.

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out.

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear.

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?"

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that.

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you."

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his.

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure.

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom.

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught.

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl."

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-"

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-"

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled.

"I'll make sure it takes this time too."

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea.

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb.

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine.

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness.

"I love you."

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran.

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me."

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color.

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The Sun had eaten it. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given.

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation.

#yandere jjk #yandere #yandere gojo satoru #dark content #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #x reader #gojo satoru #reader insert #afab reader #bullying #harassment #forced relationship #tw: dubcon #tw:noncon

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sourlove · 6 days

Text

YANDERE JOCK 🏈

TW: OBSESSION, YANDERE THEMES, STALKING, MILD HARASSMENT, IMPLIED MURDER

(FEMALE CHEERLEADER READER)

Yandere! Jock who is convinced that the two of you are dating.

Yandere! Jock who is like a golden retriever but is a freaking beast on the field and absolutely crushes every game because he sees you cheering on the sidelines for him. When asked how he gets his wins, he says, "My girl is watching. Can't let her down."

Yandere! Jock who blows you kisses and waves even when you ignore him. He just loves you so much and is so happy when he spots you. Sure you might not always respond but the just means he has to try harder next time.

Yandere! Jock who doesn't care when you tell him to leave you alone. You're probably just in a bad mood but it's okay! He'll make you feel better!

Yandere! Jock who has the school also convinced that you guys are dating. He follows you around like a puppy and he always calls you 'my girl' so people naturally assumed you were together. Whenever you try to squash the rumors, he amps it up again.

Yandere! Jock who loves when people think you're together. He begs asks you to wear his letterman jacket so you have his name on you. He literally lights up if you wear it because it's cold or you want him to stop pestering you.

Yandere! Jock who only messes up during games when he stops to watch your cheer routine. If you're on top of a pyramid or some other dangerous stunt, he's rushing off the field to catch you. The football coach has since banned you from participating in any stunts.

Yandere! Jock who is glued to you so much that you slowly start to get used to his presence. He takes advantage of your indifference and tries to do more stuff to get you to acknowledge him. He carries your stuff, buys you lunch, drives you home and even walks you home when you don't want to enter his car. Sure, you don't exactly know he's walking with you but he's just looking out for his best girl!

Yandere! Jock who is so eager to see you, sometimes, that he's waiting outside your door first thing in the morning. What you don't know is that he's been there all night, staring at your window and waiting for you to wake up.

Yandere! Jock who bribes the cheerleaders to wingman for him. All of a sudden, your team is telling you what a sweetheart he is and how you guys look so great together. With all these people on his side, you have to give in sooner or later, right?

Yandere! Jock who finally asks you to be his girlfriend officially and is over the moon when you agree. If you thought he was clingy before, just wait. He's started leaving his things around for you to wear or carry like he's staking his claim on you. You have to explain the concept of personal space and alone time to him but he just stares at you in confusion. Why would you not want to be around him all the time? He loves being around you!

Yandere! Jock who runs up after every game to hug you, despite your protests because he's so sweaty. It's like a dog being so excited they just jump on you and lick all over you. His teammates have to drag him away to his dismay. He just wanted to give you a little kiss, why's everyone keeping you from him?

Yandere! Jock who let's you take charge, in and outside of the bedroom. Boy's just happy to be there.

Yandere! Jock who is clingy even in his sleep. He likes to lay on top of you so you can't slip away and leave him all alone. He's huge so it's like sleeping under a giant space heater. If it's too hot to cuddle, he pouts and whines when you tell him not to touch you at all. He still finds a way though, and sometimes you wake up to him holding your hand from across the pillow wall.

Yandere! Jock who is actually pretty harmless. He's like a giant puppy and isn't violent with the people around you. All he wants is your love and attention 24/7 and everyone is pretty much used to his antics to know where the line is drawn. That is, until a new person comes to school and starts making moves on you.

Yandere! Jock who is usually very friendly but is cold with only them and refusing to leave your side when they're near you.

Yandere! Jock who is in a great mood when they suddenly disappear without a trace.

FIND ALL OTHER PARTS + MY OTHER WORKS HERE

A/N: Please leave a like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed this! I personally this character he's adorable. If you want any headcanons or special requests, leave an ask too :)

@justabratsworld @pinkrose1422 (i feel like you'll like this oc lol)

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fallingdownhell · 2 months

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Heyaaa!

I saw your request is open soo...

Can i request gn reader with Ayato, Kazuha, Diluc, and Kaeya where the reader is pranking them by shouting their full name (since we know their full name) what is going to be their reaction?

Feel free to ignore or decline this request^^

I love this! So much! Thank you for your request<3 Characters Included: Kazuha; Diluc; Ayato; Kaeya Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; pranking the boys by calling their full names; not proofread yet Word count: 2,6k words Have fun with this one<3

Kazuha

This morning was peaceful, Kazuha thought as he layed in bed, the morning rays of the sun shining in through the open window. He let them warm his body as he slowly woke up more and more from his slumber.

When he extended a hand to feel for your sleeping body next to him, he found the space empty. Cold at that, indicating that you've been gone for a while.

A groan left him, Kazuha hated it when he woke up without you next to him. He'd much rather spend his morning cuddling you in bed than doing anything else.

But then the next moment, the smell of something cooking hit him, and he knew that you were already out and about making breakfast for the both of you.

So, with a sigh, Kazuha decided to get up and get himself ready before heading down to join you in the kitchen.

He got up from bed and stretched his body out first, then headed into the adjacent bathroom. Taking a shower first thing in the morning always felt refreshing to him and it most often than not was the last push he needed to fully wake up.

Once that was done and he headed out of the shower again, Kazuha got dressed and combed through some tight knots of his hair. He was still in the middle of doing so, when suddenly, the silence of the house was interrupted by a shout of his name.

"Kaedehara Kazuha! Get down here!", your voice shoutet and instantly, Kazuha's body froze up. There were a million thoughts in his head, and yet also, not a single one except for: he had somehow fucked up.

The tone in which you had shouted his name sounded mad and if that wasn't a clear indication about your mood, the use of his full name certainly was.

To not make your mood any worse, he hurried to put the comb away and throw the last piece of clothing on while he already hurried out of the bathroom and towards you into the kitchen. He was preparing himself internally for whatever it was that he did that pissed you off so much and already had a million apologies on his tongue.

But, to his surprise, when he got to the kitchen, he found you there, utterly calm as you put the food on two plates for each of you. You didn't even notice him coming in.

"(Name), my love..", he carefully spoke, just in case, but in reality, he was so confused.

"Oh, good. Food's ready!", you look up and smile at Kazuha, which then throws him completely out of loop. He just stands there and stares at you.

"Is something the matter, dear?", you ask him, that smile still on your lips as you sit down at the table. That's when the puzzle pieces fall for Kazuha and he visibly relaxes, letting out a drawn out breath.

"Please, don't do that again, love. I was scared for my life."

You laugh at that, apologizing for scaring him that much. He doesn't really care as long as you apologize with a cuddle session afterwards.

Diluc

Since you moved in with Diluc at Dawn Winery, the time you spend together has improved significantly compared to before, but it still wasn't nearly enough as to what both of you would want it to be.

He still had lots of work to do, managing the Winery, the Angel's Share, and all the business he likes to take over as the Dark Night Hero. Even so, the fact that the two of you are now living under the same roof has changed things for the better.

You know get to see him every morning, since Diluc has made it a point to stay in bed until both of you have to get up for work. You always eat dinner together and he makes an effort to spend every other evening with you. He really tries his best for you.

He even moved his office next to your shared bedroom, so that there aren't too many rooms between you and when you want to see the other, you only have to go into the adjacent room and not wander the entire mansion.

Tonight was a night Diluc had dedicated to his work, which he made you aware of and you were okay with, since you told him that you could use the time to continue the book you were currently reading.

Diluc was hunged over stacks of papers, trying to sort them from most to least important before he went into looking over them. He had worked through a good portion of it already, thinking that he was making great progress. When he looked at the clock on the wall, it told him that it was already almost midnight.

But not to worry. In about an hour or so, he would be done and could join you in bed. Or so he thought. But when he wanted to continue his work after a short break, he suddenly heard you yelling from next door.

"Diluc Ragnvindr!", your voice shoutet his name and he immediately picked up on the tone of your voice. You sounded upset..

Instantly, he began thinking back, trying to figure out what could have made you angry at him. You were fine when he last saw you at dinner, smiling and laughing with him. Then he went to his office afterwards. He couldn't possibly have done or said anything to upset you... right?

His body, that had faced towards the door that lead to your shared bedroom, began to act on his own and he got up and walked over there. Diluc gently knocked on the door, opening it a bit and sticking his head through the gap.

You were laying on the bed, comfortably tucked in and reading your book.

"Everything okay, my love?", Diluc softly spoke up, not sure what to do but he definitely didn't want to make you further upset.

At the sound of his voice, you perk up and face him, a smile spreading on your lips. You place the book down on the nightstand before extending an arm towards him.

"I'm cold. Come cuddle with me." you say in a small pout, which confused Diluc even more. You sounded so mad just now when you yelled his name. Not just his name, but his full name! So why.. were you acting like nothing was wrong?

Still, he complied to your request, his work and papers forgotten for now as he joined you in bed. You made yourself comfortable in his arms, your head and part of your upper body resting on his chest as he began to play with some stands of your hair. Everything was peaceful, but Diluc's mind was still running, trying to make sense of everything. In the end, he decided to just ask you about it.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No? Why would I be?", you asked him, but your voice sounded sleepy already

"Because you were yelling earlier. And you used my full name. Not just my name or a petname. So I thought..", he got interrupted by a chuckle coming from you.

"I'm sorry, baby. I was just messing with you a bit. Just wanted you here to cuddle with you."

A joke... that's what it was. He couldn't help the relief that washed over him hearing that, and the tension finally left his body. He's not mad at you, but please, don't do that again if you don't want him to have a heart attack next time..

Ayato

Being the spouse of the head of the Kamisatio Clan was the best thing that could have ever happened to you. Although Ayato was a busy man with much work, he always made sure to make time for you to spend with him, just the two of you.

Every day, he made that effort, even though this sometimes meant even more stress for him with certain work if he put if off too long. But to him, it was worth it when he did it for you. He's a loyal man in that regard.

One of the downsides to this however, is the fact that this man often times overworks himself without even realising it. Before you came around, it was Ayaka's and Thoma's job - but mostly Thoma's - to take care of Ayato and remind him to take frequent breaks in between.

Now, you like to take over that part for Thoma, taking every chance you get to see your boyfriend, even if it's only a few seconds to remind him of a break or to bring him something to drink with some snacks.

Ayato really appreaciates you doing this for him, smiling every time and stealing a quick kiss before you're gone again. He thanks Celestia each and every day for you being so understanding with his work.

But that doesn't mean that there aren't still days where breaks just aren't possible and he has to power through or else it would never get done.

Today was such a day. Ayato leaned back and let out a heavy sigh as he finally finished with work for today. He has been sitting in this room - his office - the entire day, cramped up and not able to take even a single break. Come to think of it, he was so focused on his work that he didn't even know if you've come in here at all today to check on him. He's sure you did, as you did it every day, but he didn't even notice..

Not to worry. He would simply rest here for a few minutes, trying to come down before he would set out to search for you. Being in your presence was exactly what he needed to recharge some of his engery again.

Closing his eyes and listening to the silence around him, Ayato took a deep breath, calming down more and more the longer he continued to do so. Just a bit longer and he'll-!

"Kamisato Ayato!", a voice suddenly called out his name. And not just any voice, but yours.

His eyes immediately snapped open at the use of his full government name. No cute nickname, nor petname, not anything.

At first, he was too stunned to react, trying to figure out if what he heard was actually real or just something his brain made up. For a few seconds, he sat there and listened to the silence that followed. Just as he was about to relax again, he heard your voice calling him again.

"Kamisato Ayato! Get over here, now!", you shouted for him again, this time your voice sounded a bit more aggressive than before. Now he was certain that this was not his brain playing tricks on him...

Not knowing what had happened but also not wanting to upset you even more, Ayato quickly got up and exited the room. He didn't know where you were, but you sounded rather close, so there weren't too many options available. After looking through some rooms, he found you in the dining room, placing down plates full of steaming food on the table.

"Darling? Are you okay?", Ayato asked as he entered the room, wandering over to you and catching you in his arms, holding your face in his hands.

You smile up at him, circling your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a quick kiss. "Everythings fine. But you've been in there the whole day and dinner is ready so I figured I had to get you out of there somehow."

It then clicks in his head, that you weren't actually mad at him and it was just a trick to lure him out.

"Oh, you little devil~", Ayato smiles down at you, gently poking your nose which made you giggle.

"Hey, it was effective, wasn't it?", you defended yourself and he had to agree with you there. After all, no matter what, you'd always be his top priority..

Kaeya

You and Kaeya had a great relationship going. Both of you had busy jobs but you still tried to spend as much time together as possible. As a rule of thumb, you've come to an arrangement that every other day, one of you would spend the night over at the others place, since you're not living together at this point.

It's worked out great for you two and sometimes, even though you're together, you can still do your own things, and just enjoy each others presence.

Like today, for example.

You two were at your place, both on the couch. Kaeya was sitting comfortable at one end of the sofa, studying over some plans and things he had to look over for Jean for the knights, while you were laying down, head placed on Kaeya's lap while reading a book.

There was a comfortable silence as each of you was doing his own thing, though every now and then, Kaeya would reach down to brush through your hair. You knew he liked to do that as it calmed him down. And you enjoyed it, so no reason for you to complain about it.

However, it was getting late already, the fire also slowly dying down, so you decided to end your book for today. You told Kaeya that you'd go to the bathroom first, so he had a bit more time to study through the plans. He smiled at you and nodded while you headed towards the bathroom.

Kaeya sits there for quite some time, but he's not really focusing on the reports all that much anymore. He's getting tired and listening to the water running from the bathroom, he can't wait to get into bed with you.

So, deciding to leave it be for today, he places the papers down on the table and lets his head fall back to relax a bit until you were done in the bathroom. He wouldn't have minded to join you in there, either...

As he sat there, relaxing and thinking, he closed his eyes for a bit. But the longer he had them closed, his eyes grew heavier and heavier..

He was about to fall asleep, when suddenly..

"Kaeya Alberich!", you voice sounded from the bathroom and Kaeya's eyes snapped open at the use of his full name.

You'd never done that before, not even when you were mad at him beyond anything. What could he have done that could possibly bring out such a reaction in you?

Quickly, he got up and headed to the bathroom where he heard you from, but things weren't adding up for him. Everything was fine until a few minutes ago. You'd never done this, so why now, so suddenly?

There hasn't been any arguments the past weeks, everything was going smoothly. Unless he said or did something genuinely horrible..

But he was pretty sure that he didn't..

But if not, then there was only one other possiblity...

Rounding the corner, Kaeya knew immediately what was up when he saw you standing there, smiling brightly at him, looking like you were quite proud with yourself.

"Yes, my dear?", he asked, smirking as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Would you be so kind and help me with my hair?", you ask, your voice ever so sweet again, like you didn't do anything at all.

"Of course.", he leads you to the bed and makes you sit and face away from him before he goes to work on your hair, gently tangling out all the knots that had formed in them.

He won't say anything about it or hold it against you, but if you keep doing this over and over again, he might have to come up with something to teach you a lesson not to scare him like that again..

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bluecollarmcandtf · 2 months

Note

My little brother wants to know what it’s like being older, he wants to experience life inside of my fathers body as well as our next door jock neighbor. I was wondering if you could help him out with that?

Be careful what you ask for! Your brother has a reputation for being an irresponsible troublemaker. Who knows what he'd get up to if he had those bodies at his disposal...

"Holy crap!" your brother shouts, seeing his body in the mirror. His jaw hangs open as he runs his fingers through unfamiliarly thick hair, "I'm him...I'm the hot neighbor!"

For as long as you can remember, your younger sibling has lusted after the guy next door. Charlie would spend most of his time peaking out of the window and into Diego's garage, giving him a front row seat to every one of the hot neighbor's workouts.

You always called Charlie a creep for staring at the neighbor, but you secretly understood why he did it. Diego was built like a god. His body was so lean that every vein was visible even from across the street! And now that body is standing in your brother's bedroom, eyes wide with so much disbelief it was comical.

"I'm Diego," Diego gasps softly, a tear of joy coming to his eye, "I don't know how. I was just thinking about him and then..."

"Charlie?"

Diego's head darts away from the mirror and stares at you with glee, "Yeah, it's me idiot! You think Diego would ever be shirtless in our house?"

Your brother turns his gaze back to his new body, licking his lips as he examines the thick round pecs hanging off his new chest. You watch as Charlie raises Diego's heavy arm and gives his muscle-tits a few squeezes. The real Diego would never grope his own body like that. In fact, the real Diego would probably kill Charlie for doing that with his body.

"I think you should give our hot neighbor some appreciation," Charlie purrs, flexing Diego's arms overhead, "I know you like his body just as much as I do big bro."

Your brother is right. Charlie might pull out the binoculars to watch the hot neighbor lift, but you aren't much better. Just last night you were wanking off to the memory of Diego giving you a casual wave as you got home.

"Charlie, this is insane," you try to stay calm, "We need to figure out what's going on."

"What's going on?" your brother uses Diego's sharp voice against you, "What's going on is I have the neighbor's hot body now, and you aren't appreciating it!"

"Please..." you ask your little brother to calm down, but it doesn't do any good. He's only getting more and more assertive with his new body, and it's messing with your head. You have to remind yourself that this is actually your dork of a younger brother and not the incredibly intimidating boy next door.

"Shut up," Charlie snaps, giving you a shove that throws you against the wall.

"Charlie!" you groan, "Don't push me ar-"

"Call me Diego."

Your younger brother swaggers over and sneers down at you. In Diego's body, you have to look up to meet his face, and he seems fed up. Already, he's got a muscled arm pinned against the wall over your shoulder, and already, you feel trapped under him.

"Char-"

"DIEGO!" he barks, slamming his other arm against the wall.

"Diego," your voice shakes, "Aren't you even just a little bit worried about the real Diego?"

"Oh, kiss my ass!" he snorts, "I just liked his body, and now it's right here for me to enjoy."

"But..."

"I told you to kiss my ass, big bro," Diego's intense glare tells you he's not joking.

Your legs feel weak. Somehow your little brother has gone from a loveable rascal to domineering bully! All it took was giving him Diego's shredded body and he's bossing you around like you're his bitch.

He doesn't wait for an answer. Charlie takes Diego's strong arms and pushes you to the floor. Before you know it, he's turned around, and you are face to face with your neighbor's tight bubble butt. You don't want to just give in to your baby bro, but Diego's assertiveness is impossible to ignore. Your face is drawn to that ass, and you lose yourself as you kiss the sculpted glutes beneath the mesh shorts.

"That's more like it," Charlie smirks, "Now that I'm inside Diego, I want some ass kissing from you everyday."

You don't respond. Your lost in the pleasure of the hot neighbor's body, his ass pinning your head against the wall. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad life, after all...

A sudden vibration jolts you out of it. The walls shake as the door to the garage is raised with a buzzing motor. Dad is home!

"Shit," Charlie says with Diego's mouth.

"I'm telling dad what's going on!" you cry, rising to your feet.

"What! No, I was just kidding about the ass stuff," Charlie panics, "Dad won't understand!"

"I don't care!" you shout and stomp out of the room. Your ego is slightly bruised by how quickly you folded for Charlie. It doesn't matter that he's wearing the bulky neighbor like a costume. He's your younger brother, and you just kissed his ass, literally!

Maybe your father can make sense of all this Freak Friday nonsense! He always has a calm decisive answer to everything.

"Hehe, beat you to him, bro!"

Your jaw drops when you see your father in the living room. The man just got home, but he's already waiting for you with his shirt ripped off. His entire beer gut is hanging out in the open, and he's shaking his torso around like he's trying to show it off.

You can't help but recoil from the sight. Your father hates taking his shirt off. The man wears shirts in the pool to keep people from seeing him like this! Yet, now here he is, without a self-conscious bone in his body.

"Dad, what are you-"

"Ooh I like it when you call me dad," his voice lowers, like he's trying to be playful.

"Wait, Charlie?" you gasp.

Your father throws his hands on his hips and smiles at you. He's the kind of guy who's only ever smiled when you scored in a sport or won a game. You can't help but feel like you've earned his approval when you see that grin. It really sucks that this isn't actually your dad.

"How did you even..?"

"I don't know, bro! I just really didn't want you to tell dad, and then I blinked, and then I was here: inside him!"

"Well get out!" you say firmly. Charlie wearing the neighbor's body was one thing, but this doesn't feel right. He shouldn't be playing around with your father like this.

"What, no!" he snorts, "Dad's even more fun to be. I feel so fat and hairy!"

"Dad's not that fat or hairy," you retort sternly.

"Oh come on," your father's voice purrs, "Look at the flab on this guy!" Charlie grabs the bloated stomach with Dad's arms and gives it a playful shake. Your real dad would be mortified if he saw how his body was acting!

"Charlie, don't do that to him."

"Shut up! I feel so big and manly in his body," he explains, "And he's still sore and sweaty from work too!"

You watch in disgust as your father raises his arm and takes a long whiff from his armpit. The real man would normally jump in the shower the second he got back from his day at the construction yard, but Charlie obviously enjoyed Dad's smell of hard work.

"I think I've had a long day of work, son," Charlie suddenly announces, lowering his voice in a cheap attempt at dad's typical monotone, "Grab your old man a beer."

"No," you pout, rolling your eyes.

"No?"

Suddenly your father pounces on you, locking you into a tight headlock with his meaty arms. You try to slip out. His bare skin is slick with sweat, but your little brother holds you there with an unyielding grip, laughing with dad's deep voice.

An hour later and you're washing dad's truck. Charlie released you from the headlock, but only after he'd told you how excited he was to manhandle you again. Apparently, he couldn't wait to use dad's body to keep you in your place.

You grabbed him his beer and massaged his shoulders like he told you, but you didn't do it happily. Your own father was now bullying you around because your stupid little brother somehow managed to hop in his body. He wants you to go upstairs and clean his bedroom next. It's getting late, but you don't want to make Charlie angry, especially now that he's put a few beers in dad's belly. Who knows what your power-drunk little brother will do when he's inebriated!

You just have to accept it. Charlie has your dad's body and you have to do what he says. This is your life now...

These amazing images were generated by @bodyhopper-files

#gay ai art #gay possession #bodyswapper #story

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zekepng · 9 days

Text

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘

One evening, a familiar neighbour approaches you and requests a favour, even though it's late. You willingly assist him and he doesn't let you leave without generously rewarding you for your helpfulness.

Milkman (Francis Mosses) one shot, explicit content - fanart: Yunonoai on twitter

Ao3 Link

Discord Server

As you settle into your seat, you feel your eyelids growing heavy from the gentle sway. It's a quiet Sunday, with only a few souls venturing through. It seems like the majority of the neighbours have chosen to stay home and take a break today.

You found some satisfaction in your job, despite your preference for being at home on a Sunday.

At least you're earning a paycheck for your efforts to do nothing.

Just like magic, the elevator doors glide open, as if anticipating your thoughts. You awaken, your gaze drawn to the window shielding your office. Anastacha glances in your direction, offering a brief wave and a smile before gracefully heading towards the exit.

You reciprocate the gesture, ensuring there are no witnesses nearby.

Before slipping on your headphones, you steal a quick glance at the clock on the wall, hoping to see the hand inching closer to ten, but it's barely making its way to eight.

Once again, as if following a precise rhythm, your tired eyes gently close.

Until the sound of forceful pounding against the glass abruptly jolts them awake. You find yourself on the edge of your seat, suddenly snapping upright in a state of sheer panic.

You abruptly lose track of your surroundings, momentarily transported from your peaceful bed to an unfamiliar place.

You find yourself sinking into the uncomfortable chair, feeling the strain in your back as you gaze out through the transparent barrier that separates you from the outside world. You can't help but feel a rush of surprise as you lay your eyes on the towering figure before you, his gentle smile adding a touch of warmth to the scene.

"Long shift?" He asks, his head slightly tilted. His gentle, deep brown eyes fixate on you, capturing a flicker of delight in your astonished expression.

"Francis," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. You remove the headphones from your ears and sit up straight in your chair.

As per his usual attire, he wears a pristine white shirt and sleek black trousers, complemented by a stylish black bow tie. With his trademark white hat perched atop his tousled brown silk hair, it's clear that he's having a particularly dishevelled day.

“Did I startle you?” He asks, his voice carrying a sense of innocence as he gently removes his hat from his head.

You tear your eyes away from his, only to steal a quick glance at the clock, hoping to catch any sign of time passing. You find it shocking that what seemed like an eternity actually lasted a mere half an hour. "Well, I never expected anyone to approach me," you murmur softly.

"My apologies, (y/n)," he says with a playful laugh, “but I need you to get into my apartment.”

As you regain consciousness, a wave of disorientation washes over you. You gaze at him with a bewildered expression, desperately trying to comprehend his words. Suddenly, he utters, "My keys, (y/n). You have my keys, just like you do every day.”

Your cheeks flush as a wave of embarrassment washes over you, all while he stares at you with a gentle smile, almost bordering on a smirk. “Sorry, it’s been a long night.” You casually reach over and take his house keys from the hook.

“I guess I’m not the only forgetful one here,” he chuckles, clutching the keys to his truck in his hand.

During your week of working here, you formed a pact with Francis. Because of his tendency to forget, he would often misplace one of his keys and ask for a spare. In order to avoid this recurring issue, you both decided to make an arrangement where his keys would be kept downstairs at your desk.

As he inches towards the glass, a sense of confusion washes over you until he finally says, “I have another favour I need you to do for me.”

“Which is?” You ask, carefully examining his features. You trace the contours of his nose, gradually becoming absorbed in your own thoughts—lewd thoughts.

You find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him as he talks.

The gaze in his almond-shaped eyes carries a captivating yet mysterious allure.

Every time he passes by, his demeanour seems gloomy, but a flicker of joy illuminates his eyes when he catches a glimpse of you. However, that happiness quickly dissipates as his smile vanishes.

You can't help but imagine the intense gaze and the heated encounter as he bends you over your desk and fucks you senseless.

Your mind is swirling with questions like, What noise does he make? Is he loud? Would he fuck you good? Is it big?

It has to be big.

There is a mysterious presence about him that eludes comprehension, yet it holds you captivated.

“So, can I?” He asks, jolting you back to reality as you realise you've completely zoned out and missed his entire conversation.

You find yourself shaking your head in disbelief, struggling to process his words. However, your mind becomes overwhelmed with a flurry of unanswered questions. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that for me?”

“I asked if I could place a few of my milk trays in your office as I unload them from my truck? It’s far colder there than it is out here,” he asks, causing your eyes to cautiously shift between his face and the office floor, contemplating if they would even fit.

“It’s just so that I don’t have to keep going to my truck all the way to the third floor.” He includes this detail in an effort to convince.

You're still apprehensive because it's against the rules to allow residents into the office, even for a brief period of time. “I don’t think I can let you in here, Francis.” You admit, a hint of guilt creeps into your expression.

"Come on," he pleads, his head tilting and his hands clasping together in a prayer-like gesture. “Please, it will only be for a few minutes, (y/n).”

His voice trembles and his eyes become gentle, almost melting you with their intensity.

"It's late, and this secret can stay between us," he pleads, his voice filled with desperation. “I promise I’ll reward you for being good to me, (y/n).” It’s almost as if the use of him saying your name was a kryptonite to you.

Every atom of your being trembles as your name escapes out of his mouths, sending shivers down your spine.

“Fine,” you reluctantly concede, succumbing to his pleading stare. “Just be quick.”

In a matter of moments, he effortlessly reveals a sly grin, his expression as stoic as ever, as he casually lowers his hands by his side. "You’re the best,” he exclaims while placing his hat back on his head and stepping back outside.

You cautiously lean back in your chair, then rise to your feet and unlock the office door. Before proceeding, you cautiously survey your surroundings, ensuring that no prying eyes are present.

The last thing you desire is to attract unwanted attention and risk being reported for violating any regulations.

As you gently nudge the door, you lean against it, ensuring it stays ajar, eagerly anticipating Francis swift return from his truck. As time passes, you observe him effortlessly using his back to swing open the door of the building. He then pivots and starts making his way towards you.

You watch as he carefully balances two crates, one on top of the other, brimming with delicate glass milk bottles. You watch as he effortlessly carries the heavy crates into the office, his white shirt rolled up to reveal his strong forearms adorned with prominent veins.

You can't help but have your attention fixated on him, like an annoying, persistent fly.

"I only have two more to carry," he says, walking past you once more before vanishing outside.

You eagerly anticipate his return, and when he finally enters the building, he is drenched from the rain. You can't help but notice how his shirt is nearly transparent, allowing a glimpse of his skin underneath.

As raindrops trickle down his face, they leave a trail of glistening droplets in their wake.

As he enters the office with the two crates, you quietly trail behind him, allowing the door to gently shut behind you. You watch as he carefully places the crates on top of each other, his gaze sweeping across the office before he straightens up.

You watch as Francis takes off his hat, his face filled with a sense of relief. I can help you carry these up to your apartment, however, in order to do so, I'll need the key to the truck," you mention, extending your hand towards him.

You find yourself captivated by his stare as he gently places the keys in your open hand. As you casually swap the truck key for the flat key, his gaze remains fixated on you.

As you turn around to face him, you find yourself taken aback as you come face to face with him, your eyes widening in surprise at his close proximity.

His towering presence looms above you, his hand poised near the switch that will lower the shutter. You find yourself struggling to control your breathing, as if your breath has been captured by an unseen force.

“Did you think I forgot about your reward?” His voice says, sending shivers down your spine while also captivating your senses.

Without uttering a single sound, he proceeds to push the switch, causing the shutters to gradually descend, leaving only you and him in the office.

"I didn't think you were serious," you mutter, struggling to articulate your thoughts.

As he takes the keys from your grasp, his touch is tender as he delicately cradles your chin with his other hand. You find yourself instinctively retreating as he moves closer, your back pressing against the edge of your desk. “Good girls deserve to be rewarded, (y/n).”

“And you’re a good girl for helping me, aren’t you, (y/n)?” He asks, gently caressing your lips with his thumb.

You fix your eyes on him, a gaze brimming with intense desire. You find yourself completely immobilised and unable to utter a single word, ensnared in a captivating spell cast by his presence.

You want him to tear your clothes off and fuck you savagely as if you were animals.

In the blink of an eye, his tender caress transforms into something forceful. You watch as his hand swiftly clamps around your jaw, his eyes filled with intensity. "Say it," he demands, his voice filled with authority.

In any other circumstance, fear might consume you, but instead, a surge of pleasure courses through your body, intensifying the throbbing sensation between your legs.

You swallow nervously before quietly admitting, "I am."

"Good," he murmurs, loosening his hold on your jaw as he draws you closer to him. Out of nowhere, he surprises you by gently placing his lips against yours, leaving you completely stunned.

You feel the warmth of his body as your hands instinctively glide up his neck, drawn to his touch. You can't help but be drawn to his kisses, even though they're sloppy.

They are filled with a raw and intense passion that ignites something deep within you. You feel a gentle bite on your bottom lip, and a soft moan emerges from your throat as he takes the chance to slide his tongue through.

You can sense the heat coursing through your veins, which is matched only by the rapid thumping of your heart.

As he shifts back, a brief strand of saliva lingers between you both, only to be swiftly followed by another passionate kiss. You find yourself captivated by the gentle gaze in his eyes as he slowly moves his lips from yours to the tender skin of your neck.

You feel a soft nibble on your neck, followed by a gentle whisper in your ear, “Sit on the desk.”

You find yourself completely mesmerised by his every word, unable to resist his intriguing presence. You obediently follow the directions, concealing any signs of bewilderment. You settle yourself on the desk, feeling a slight breeze as your skirt lifts slightly.

You reach out to mend it, but he abruptly halts your movement. His hands gently lift yours away from your thighs, finding their place on either side of you.

You watch as he gracefully lowers himself to the ground, effortlessly sinking to his knees right in front of you.

You find yourself at a loss for words as you experience the sensation of his hands enveloping your thighs, gently guiding you closer to the edge of the desk.

You feel the gentle touch of his lips against the sensitive skin of your thighs, eliciting a soft gasp as you tilt your head back in response.

You feel a gentle tug on your thong, as it gracefully slides down your leg and is set aside.

You adjust your skirt higher, feeling a sudden warmth on your cheeks as you become aware of your vulnerability.

You're captivated by the intensity of his eyes, lost in the moment as he delicately positions your legs over his shoulder, drawing you nearer without disrupting the desk.

You observe him with anticipation and a heightened sense of desire as he approaches your cunt. You find yourself biting your lip, a soft whimper escaping your lips as his warm tongue playfully dances around your clit, sending waves of teasing pleasure through your body.

The tip of his tongue delicately explores and teases your pussy.

Unexpectedly, he inserts two fingers into your wet hole, eliciting a chorus of pleasure-filled sounds from your lips.

You slowly glide your hand through his soft, lustrous brown hair, then firmly grasp it as he skillfully moves his fingers in and out of you, simultaneously using his tongue to pleasure your most sensitive spot.

You are consumed by an overwhelming surge of tension, which sends waves of pleasure cascading through your entire being. "Oh fuck," you gasp, your voice filled with desire, as you tightly grip his hair.

You can feel the intensity building as his tongue quickens its pace, sending waves of tension through your body. Just as the knot of anticipation reaches its peak, he eases off, gradually slowing down.

You feel a rush of pleasure as his fingers move in and out of you, perfectly synchronised with the skillful movements of his tongue. It's as if he knows exactly how to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.

As if to intensify the sensation, he adds a third finger into your dripping pussy, causing you to cry out, "Francis, please!" His tongue quickens its pace once more, heightening the pleasure even more.

You sense your proximity drawing near. You can feel the heat building up inside you, your breath quickening and your toes curling in pleasure as he expertly stimulates you with his slender fingers. "I'm getting close," You struggle to utter the three simple words, your voice trembling with emotion.

Out of nowhere, he abruptly withdraws his mouth from you, yet his fingers remain inside, delving deeper and deeper.

You're hooked by the intense stare he directs towards you, his eyes filled with a mysterious allure. A blend of your fluids and his spit moistens his mouth as he slowly smirks at you.

Author's note: part 2 is pending... ಇ

#francis mosses #thats not my neighbor #thats not my neighbour one shot #francis mosses x reader #zekepng #smut #one shot #one shot smut

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flowercrowngods · 1 month

Text

It's unreal. The light is streaming in through the windows, the curtains still drawn to block out the midday heat, tinging their living room in golden hues that match so well with the light grey fabric of their new sofa.

Eddie should probably snap out of it and head over to the windows, open the curtains and let the light in, and with it the warmth and fresh air of a surprisingly wonderful day.

It's March, he hears the echoes of Steve's giddy voice a week or two ago. Everything's better in March.

Eddie didn't agree then, and he's not sure he agrees now, but he must admit there is something magical about this moment.

Still he remains rooted to the spot, leather jacket heavy on his shoulders, his hands hidden in the sleeves of it, just in case this really is a dream. Just in case someone will come in and snap him out of it, take away their couch and leave an eviction notice.

It's dumb. But Eddie doesn't deal well with things that are unreal. Things that he knows aren't meant for him. Things that he knows he only gets in this one play-through of his life, while millions of other Eddie Munsons are out there in parallel universes who never get to even lay eyes upon a couch this nice. Let alone buy it. From their own real adult money.

It's a corner sofa, the fabric light grey, and he remembers it being harder than it looks. Solid. Just perfect for both their fucked up backs, scar tissue pulling if they sit wrong for too long, phantom pain and muscle aches coming in hot when all they want is to just relax and enjoy a lazy evening.

Eddie bites his lip, trailing his eyes along the pristine fabric, the pillows lining the back of it, the flawless stitches keeping everything in shape.

They have a couch now. A sofa.

It's so fucking unreal.

He drops to the floor right then and there, sitting with his back against the wall, and never once taking his eyes off their sofa. It feels important to look at it for a while. It feels important to wait for Steve. It feels... It feels like maybe he'll ruin everything if he goes and sits on it now.

And it feels really fucking big.

At some point he hears the front door opening, their lock going so smoothly now that Steve fixed it with some graphite, and the sound makes Eddie smile. That's another thing that's unreal. The key barely making any noise, the lock not rattling, the door not creaking and cracking. Eddie pulls a strand of hair between his lips, the smile feeling too silly for this room, for this home, for everything he gets to have now.

For all the tiny things that matter now. All the tiny things he gets to have, turning the key's smooth slide into an allegory of everything he ever wanted but never dared to hope for.

The slide of curtains, the click-click-click of the window handle being turned to let the air in. The breeze of fresh spring air dancing around his nose.

It's all a little much. It's so fucking addicting.

And then Steve. Socked feet coming to a stop beside him, a hand landing in his hair, a voice that's so endlessly warm and fond and maybe a little worried sounding from above him, "Hi, angel."

"Hi," Eddie says, tearing his eyes away from their couch to meet Steve's. The sunlight from the windows hugs him, making him glow. Eddie smiles. He smiles and smiles and never wants to stop.

Steve hums as he leans down to press a kiss to his forehead, and Eddie weaves his arm through Steve's legs, holding onto his knee.

Everything feels a little less silly now. Like every time Steve doesn't question his little moments of sitting on the floor and just staring at things.

"We have a couch now," Eddie says, because it feels important to point out. Because Steve isn't looking at it.

"We do," he hums. "I got the call earlier. Thanks for helping with that, baby."

Eddie nods again, leaning his cheek against Steve's knee and trailing the couch again with his eyes. It looks brighter now that the curtains don't turn the room into something out of a sepia-type movie anymore.

Steve's hands comb through his hair, massaging his scalp a little with his nails. It's nice. It's warm. It's pretty.

And it's so unreal.

"I'm twenty-four," Eddie says then, and some part of him wants to carve that into the fabric. He won't. But maybe he should carve it somewhere else. "And I own a couch. It's a little crazy."

Steve comes to sit down beside him, their shoulders pressed together and he links their hands, resting them in his lap after a brushes a kiss to Eddie's knuckles.

"Why's it crazy, angel?"

He shrugs, resting his head on Steve's shoulders and curling into his warmth some more.

"Most of my life I never thought either of those would happen, y'know."

Another hum, followed by another kiss to the crown of his head. Another smile.

"But you did it," Steve whispers. "You made it. And we've got a couch now."

"We've got a couch now."

Saying it out loud doesn't make it feel any realer. It only makes his heart race and his eyes prick.

"I love you," he says, finally looking away from pretty grey fabric to meet prettier hazel eyes. "I love you so much."

Steve leans in, kissing the tip of his nose. "I love you. Thank you for buying a couch with me."

And it occurs to Eddie then that Steve understands him. Sitting there on the floor with him, hearing his words and listening to those unsaid, understanding Eddie on such a fundamental level that it should be scary. And it is, sometimes.

But he's not scared now. Because they have a couch. And they have pretty curtains that keep the light outside and still turn the room into something magical. And they have a lock that only needed a bit of graphite to let the keys glide smoothly.

And they have each other.

They stay on the floor until Steve's stomach growls, and they eat dinner with their backs against the couch and Eddie's feet in Steve's lap. They hold each other close after dinner, just breathing each other in as the breeze blows around them.

In the end, Eddie is the first to sit on the couch, with Steve standing between his legs and giving him a scalp massage in silence. In the end, Eddie buries his face in Steve's stomach to hide the tears, and Steve lets him.

Because this is real. And he gets to have this. They both do.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid@hotluncheddie @gutterflower77@auroraplume@steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important@stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround@pukner@i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic@bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

#steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie #steve x eddie #listen i have a couch now and if you know me you know that i get really fucking emo about the tiniest things #i fixed my lock with graphite btw when i was blackout drunk. it still fills me with so much joy #sorry tag list gang idk what this is but it wanted out #i could write fics/poems/whatever about the most mundane things until the end of my days tbh so today we have: couch #dio words #dio's steddie ramblings #the hurt/comfort is implied like you'll catch it when you reflect on the words but most importantly this is healing. and comfort. and fluff #and so much love and understanding it makes me wanna throw up

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system-to-the-madness · 1 month

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Cherry Blossom Interventions 🌸 Fushiguro Megumi x Reader

Pairing: Fushiguro Megumi x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: hurt/comfort – angst to fluff Word Count: 3 271 Warnings: SPOILER for up to chapter 253, suicidal tendencies and implications (Megumi), mentions of death and depression Summary: Megumi has drawn back from everyday life completely, so you intervene A/N: Sorry for the late post; life happened. Played volleyball with friends, went to eat sushi, went running with the same friends, went to Maces, and then to a foot Onsen.

Sakura Festival Masterlist - Masterlist

"Why am I here?"

You stopped in your tracks and turned around to Megumi. He was standing underneath a cherry blossom tree when a cool breeze of spring air swept through his hair, carrying pink petals that caught in his black strands. His hair was shorter than it had been in autumn; not by much but the difference was still noticeable. You wondered whether he had cut it to not resemble the version of himself Sukuna had turned him into.

“You know why you are here,” you answered him, ignoring the frown on his brow. “This is an intervention.”

“What kind of intervention,” he asked back, clearly starting to get upset.

“What kind of intervention do you think it is?”

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested.” Megumi was already turning away from you again when you called out for him.

“We are worried,” you told him, almost shouting.

He just scoffed.

“Who is we?”

“Yūji, me, Toge, Maki, Yūta” you replied. “Panda, too, and Ieiri-sensei. Ever since December, ever since that last fight. Do you think we don’t know what's been going on with you? Do you think we don't know you've been skipping therapy and meals. We know you're just holed up in your room the whole day. We know you don't want to be here; you don't want to be with us anymore-”

“Then why can't you let me be?”

His shout made you flinch, but you had faced scarier things than an upset classmate.

“Because we care,” you shouted back. “We care too much to let you ruin your life like this! Don't misunderstand: We are not making light of the situation you were in - you are in. We understand that none of us could ever possibly imagine the things you have gone through, but you cannot ask us to let our friend die, who we fought so hard to save. You can't ask that of us!”

Megumi just rolled his eyes. “And what about what I want? What about the things I want,” he asked.

“For once, you don't get to say in this,” you shook your head. “It's not much we demand of you. We want you to eat properly. We know you haven't. We want you to step outside at least once a week, doesn't have to be long, just sit in the sun for a few minutes. That's all we ask. Or open your window, it's been barricaded since you moved back in in January. And go to your therapy sessions. We know you have them scheduled and we know you've been skipping them. You can't expect to get better if you don't go to these sessions.”

“And what if I don't want to get better?”

“That's not an option. I told you: For once you don't get to say in this.”

Megumi stared at you from between the falling cherry blossom petals that were carried down to the ground by the wind. You could see in his eyes that right now, in this moment in time, he thought he hated you. You just had to hope he didn't actually feel that way. If he did, you did you definitely would have been the wrong choice to have this conversation with him.

It had been quite a debate between the second years, Yūji, and you about who should talk to Megumi. You even considered asking Ieiri-sensei about being the one to talk to him, but in the end, everyone agreed it would be best if it were you. They were convinced you were the one he trusted the most, the one he liked the best. At least those were the others’ arguments. You weren't sure how true they held, now that he stared at you as if he wished you were to drop dead to the floor.

“All right,” Megumi sighed. “I'll oblige to your demands under one condition: Give me one good reason why I should continue fighting. But keep in mind: my mother is dead. My father is dead, killed by the man who raised me, the man who – although he is not my father – is the closest thing I've ever had to one, the man who I had to watch being killed by my own hands. My sister is dead, also killed by me. What do I live for? Give me one good reason.”

You stared back at Megumi watching the hatred in his eyes. It was obvious he didn't believe you had any idea what he was going through.

Truthfully, you didn't. Your situation was nothing like his, and you never had been in a situation like this before nor would you ever be, but that didn't mean you didn't know all the facts he just listed. His father, his mother, his sister, and Gojō-sensei, all the people he ever might have considered family, were gone, along with so many others. And in a large part he blamed himself for it.

It was not his fault, how could it have been his fault, when it had been Sukuna, who had possessed his body. But you supposed having to watch your own body commit such terrors, having to watch as your hands took life after life, unable to interfere, unable to save his friends and family, unable to do anything but watch them all being slaughtered… it wasn’t surprising he blamed himself.

“Gojō’s in a coma, one he might never wake back up from, and it's nobody's fault but mine. Do you really believe I can live in a world like that?”

You wanted to disagree with him, tell him that it was not his fault, that he was not the one to blame, that as long as you all stuck together, there was still hope, but you knew better than to do so. Instead, you started with what he had demanded of you.

“You want me to give you a reason to keep on living,” you asked. “Gojō-sensei is not dead. As you said he's in a coma. Ieiri-sensei has been working on him every day. As far as we know he might wake up any day now.”

Megumi shook his head. “You really believe that,” he asked, “if you’re really believing that, you are more naïve than I believed you to be.” He sounded disappointed.

“Not naïve,” you disagreed. “Hopeful.”

“Same thing.”

“But let's assume for one moment Gojō were to wake back up,” you continued the train of thought before Megumi could derail it again. “Wouldn’t you want to be there? Wouldn’t you want to see him again, talk to him again?”

“You’re dealing in probabilities; probabilities are not good enough. Give me something tangible.”

You blinked. You had really thought he would give in at Gojō. So, what were you to say now?

“A stary sky then,” you offered. “To go star gazing the way we did last summer. On a blanket, out in front of the school, sharing snacks and drinks.”

Megumi scuffed.

“Another sunrise,” you continued. “Pinks and reds and oranges dying the clouds, a new day with new possibilities-”

“New suffering? Not good enough.”

“A puppy’s fur under your fingertips, these sharp, tiny teeth burying in your skin.”

“And what for?” Before you could answer, he kept going. “All my life I’ve tried to form relationships, be close to people I care about, and all my life they left me. One after the other. So what good is another stary sky, another sunrise, a puppy’s fur underneath my fingertips, if I don’t have anyone to share it with? It’s not good enough.”

A part of your mind was still hung up on the thought that it was probably better for Megumi to blame the dead for being dead than himself, but you quickly answered.

“You have us,” you told him, taking a careful step forward. “Maki, Toge, Panda, Yūta.”

His ocean blue eyes glimmered as he fully turned towards you as if he was waiting for something specific.

“You have Yūji.”

His shoulders sacked, and he looked away.

“Not good enough. They’re all gonna leave eventually.”

“I won’t,” you disagreed. “I’m not gonna leave. I made you a promise when we entered Shibuya together, that I’d always be there, and I don’t plan on breaking that promise.”

Megumi shook his head, biting his lips, still not looking at you.

“You’ll be there,” he asked, sounding disbelieving. “For every stary sky, every sunset. Every meal, walk, therapy session.”

“Yes.” Your reply was unwavering.

“You don’t even know what that means,” Megumi sighed, finally looking back up to you, but now he seemed rather sad than angry. As if the scenarios he had painted were what he wanted but were too far out of reach to even attempt to grasp them. “I’m sick. My mind- I’m broken. Something inside my head is broken and I don’t know if it will ever heal again, and if it does, if it heals right. A promise like you’re offering… it wouldn’t just be for the next days or weeks. It might be months, years, hell, it might be decades of me trying to shut my self away, of nightmares, therapy, being unable to laugh or feel anything other than this pitch-black darkness. You can’t promise me you’ll be strong enough to be there. I don’t doubt that you have the strength to see me through all this, I know you do. But there will be times when it will seem as if I’d be okay, and you’ll be hopeful, but when I have a bad phase again- It would hurt you, and I can’t hurt any more of my friends.”

“And you think the way you’re behaving right now is hurting nobody? Megumi, I won’t promise that I’ll always be there. I can’t. I’m still a sorcerer, I still have to go to missions, and am in danger every time I go. But I will be there for you for as long as I can and for as long and often as you want me to be.”

“For every stary sky?”

“And every sunrise.”

“Every meal?”

“If that’s what you want, yes. And for every walk, and if you want me to, I’ll even wait outside the therapist’s office for you.”

Megumi averted his gaze, staring at a spot right in front of your feet.

“Why? Why would you do that? What do you get in return?”

Carefully you took a step forward. “Because I care about you Megumi. And even though it might seem selfless, getting to be there for you, supporting you, trying to help you to get back to your feet, getting to watch you fight to get better, being with you through all this, is actually a very selfish act.”

Megumi looked back up, his eyes scanning your face for a moment.

“Can you hug me,” he asked, voice quiet over the wind in the branches above you.

“Of course,” you smiled and slowly crossed the last distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. He seemed to melt into the touch, almost fragile, his body moving closer to yours until his whole front was flatly pressed against yours, his face buried against the side of your neck, his hair tickling your cheek and ear. You held him tight, not too tight, so he still could breathe without effort, but tight enough for him to feel how serious you were with everything you had offered.

“I’m just scared of ending up alone again,” he whispered. “And I can’t lose you too. You’re too important to me.”

“You won’t lose me,” you whispered back, rubbing his back through the thick fabric of his oversized hoodie.

“What if you die?”

“I won’t. And if I do, I’ll come back as a curse, like Rika.”

The sound of a small chuckle surprised you, but you quickly held Megumi tighter, hoping to engrave the sound into your memory forever.

Before you could say anything else, Megumi’s phone started ringing. You stiffened up, ready to pull away, but Megumi kept you close.

“Aren’t you going to answer,” you asked, hesitantly wrapping your arms back around him.

“No,” he replied.

“What if it’s important?”

“How important can it be,” Megumi shrugged. “Not more important than this, anyway.”

After a while the ringing stopped, and Megumi slowly loosened his hold on you. Carefully pulling away, you came face to face with him.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“What for?”

“Everything. I… I tend to lose sight of the good things in life and let the darkness swallow me whole.”

Taking a step back, you reached out your hand for him to take. Questioningly he raised his eyebrows at you but placed his hand in yours.

“Now you won’t get lost in the darkness,” you told him with a smirk, making him roll his eyes.

“That’s too cheesy for me,” he shook his head.

“Oh, don’t start laughing now, Fushiguro,” you cried. “I saw that! The corner of your mouth was twitching!”

“It wasn’t! That’s annoyance at how cheesy you were being!”

He only kept his expression in check for another second before he burst out laughing. Using your intertwined hands, he pulled you back into a hug, this one more casual than the first. When his phone started ringing again, both of you ignored it.

After you had calmed down from the laughter, Megumi’s eyes fixed themselves on your face, watching you as were catching your breath.

“Can I kiss you,” he suddenly asked, making you freeze in your motion.

Surprised you looked at him, your heart seeming to miss a few beats, but then you nodded your head, and a moment later his lips were on yours, soft, a little chapped, but gentle. It was a sweet kiss, nothing too extravagant, and still enough to steal your breath and make you weak in your knees.

It was perfect, you suddenly realized, kissing Megumi like his. Around you, cherry blossom petals were floating on a warm spring breeze, birds were singing in the branches above you, and Megumi’s arms were warm and secure around you while his heart beat a firm rhythm underneath your fingers, somewhat too fast for a normal heartbeat, but then again yours was probably racing too.

The perfect moment got interrupted by yet another ring of Megumi’s phone.

“I think you should answer it,” you mumbled against his lips. “It’s probably really something important.”

Megumi sighed but pulled away enough to grab his phone out of his pocket.

“It’s just Yūji,” he rolled his eyes, but before he could answer the call, the ringing stopped again.

He shrugged, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

“I got a question,” he suddenly declared.

“Ask away.”

“You said: another stary sky, another sunrise, and…” he hesitated for a moment before continuing. “a puppy’s fur underneath my fingertips. Where do you plan to get me a puppy from?” He sounded amused, but you knew him good enough to know that he would do hell of a lot to play with a puppy sometime soon.

“Okay, here’s the thing.”

“Oh dear.”

“Yūji and I were thinking, for a while now.”

“That can’t be a good sign,” Megumi sighed. “What crazy idea did you two come up with now?”

“I’m gonna ignore that low-key insult, and let you live” you announced, “But do you know Principal Yaga’s friend, the one who had all these dogs?”

Megumi nodded, clearly hesitant about whether or not he really wanted to know what Yūji and you had come up with.

“So, one of the dogs had puppies a few weeks back and we were thinking that it might be good to adopt one of them, for our year. We’ve been talking to the teachers and thinking things through and if all of us take turns caring for it, it won’t be too much responsibility all at once. And it would give us some sort of stability, having to go on walks on regular hours, playing, teaching it commands… but there’d also someone to keep us company when we don’t feel so good, someone who can’t give us advice, but also won’t ask questions either. Someone who accepts us as we are, no matter how good we are in school or whatever. So… yeah, the puppy is already old enough to be separated from its mother and is moving in next Friday.”

Megumi stared at you.

“You adopted a puppy,” he asked incredulously.

“We adopted a puppy,” you corrected. “Yeah.”

“And we‘ll share responsibility for it?”

You nodded, and Megumi’s eyes suddenly grew hard.

“I don’t know that dog yet, but I’ll fight you for custody after graduation,” he declared, making your eyes widen.

Graduation. That was still three years away, the furthest Megumi had talked about the future since November.

Swallowing your surprise, you shrugged. “That’s okay with me.”

“But wait,” Megumi suddenly stopped. “Before the puppy arrives, we need all kinds of stuff. It won’t be like with Shiro and Kuro, it’ll need a basket, and bowls and a leash! I think we’ll need several baskets, so we don’t have to carry them around all the time. And food! We need special-”

He was interrupted by the ringing of a mobile phone, this time yours.

“Yūji,” you told him, showing him the screen on which a picture of your pink haired classmate had popped up.

“Let’s answer it,” Megumi sighed. “He’ll just keep calling otherwise.”

You had barely pressed the green button to answer the call, when Yūji’s voice was already sounding from the small speaker, loud enough that you didn’t even have to put your ear to it.

“Megumi isn’t answering his phone,” Yūji all but screamed. “I’ve tried calling him dozens of times but he’s not answering! I’m really worried! We need to-”

“Yūji, Yūji, calm down!” Quickly you interrupted your panicking friend, pressing the speaker button so Megumi could listen in. “He’s with me, he’s fine, we were talking a walk.”

On the other side silence spread out.

“And you didn’t call dozens of times, you called three times,” Megumi added, leaning down to the speaker.

On the other end, a small “oh” was audible.

“So, what’s so important that you decided to terrorize Megumi via phone calls,” you asked, shooting Megumi a glance.

His eyebrows were furrowed, and it was not hard to tell that he had only now realized just how worried his friends were about him, how much they cared about him. Enough to send ever cheerful Yūji into something akin to a panic attack just because he hadn’t answered his phone for a few minutes.

“I didn’t terrorize him,” Yūji protested.

“You kinda did, but whatever. What’s going on?”

“You guys need to come to the hospital wing asap,” Yūji told you.

Megumi and you exchanged glances. The hospital wing? That wasn’t good. Megumi took your hand in his and started walking back the way you had come.

“We’re on our way,” you told Yūji, “What’s going on? Who got hurt?”

“Nobody,” Yūji sounded like he was running himself now, slightly out of breath. “Gojō-sensei’s awake.”

And with that he ended the call.

Megumi and you were both so surprised about the message, that you came to a slithering halt. Gojō was awake? Sure, you had told Megumi it was a possibility, that he might wake up soon, but you had not believed it to actually, really happen at all.

For a short moment Megumi and you looked at each other,f inding your own surprise and relief mirrored on his face. And then you took off running, taking the quickest way to the hospital wing, your hands intertwined.

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nat-the-sleepyeth · 1 year

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Your eyes are beautiful :)

pairing: König x reader

warning: none just a bit of fluff, cozy lil fluff :3

word count: 2100-ish

(A/N: This is my first time writing, so please be kind. I tried my best ;w;)

summary: könig was transferred into your team recently, and already, he thought you dislike him, but all you thought is you'd like to know him better.

Nothing feels like a cloudy Friday with a small cup of tea, it was drizzling outside. You have the shared space all for yourself while the others are out hunting. Your hands on the warm cup while you look out the window to the field of grass, wondering how the men are doing, have they found what they're looking for, are they even there yet. A part of you wants them to come back late, you do enjoy the company of your teammates of course, but sometimes Gaz and Soap together can be a bit too much, guys are so energetic at times.

You and the team have to stay at this safehouse for a couple of days, waiting for the details on the next mission. Price is away working on his operation somewhere far from here, and without the captain we can't really do anything much. They specified that Price has to present in the mission.

Ghost planned to go hunting a while ago, and you try to encourage the boys to go with him so you can spend your time alone in the quarter, tidying your space and the common room. You don't like to clean the place when they're around for it would make them feel like they've made a mess and you had to clean up after. You just like things a little organized for easy access, and it's not like they're going to notice that things change places anyway. Soap practically begged Simon to let them join. You remember the puppy eyes the Scottish man made and Ghost's glare on you as if he knew that it was your idea -which it was- you are prepared to face the consequences of that when he's back. Soap tried to ask König to join too, though you didn't stay to find out if he accepted, and after not seeing anyone when you woke up, you thought he'd join.

You heard the door open quietly. It's too soon for them to come back, and not hearing Soap's voice you thought it might be someone else.

“Back already? oh... Hi” You turned to the door and -to your surprise- König was standing there with a pen and a notebook, looking at you like he didn't expect to find someone else either. “I thought you were out with the others?”

“No,” He shook his head, his hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I don't like hunting.”

You tilted your head in wonder, a man this size, a soldier who sounded so excited after killing an enemy in the field, not a fan of hunting. You thought he was going to say something different, something like not wanting to go because he doesn't want to socialize, or because he feels intimidated around Ghost. He's quite new to the team after all.

König was recently transferred to your team after joining temporarily for a mission, about a week ago. You guys get along alright, apart from mostly spending time around each other in silence. He is always a bit quiet around you all, you feel the heavy atmosphere when you are alone with him, this man is huge and can be scary, and you're not scared to admit that.

You found yourself drawn to him somehow, always paying him small glances from the corner of your eyes when he doesn't notice. You like to watch his eyes, how he looks at things like he's studying them, memorizing them. At the same time, you are curious if it's because he's thinking about something so constantly and intensely his eyes stopped moving. You wonder if he likes taking pictures, if he likes to spend his free time capturing photos of things.

Little do you know, he's more observant than you think.

He knows that you are looking at him, feel your eyes on him like it's drilling into the side of his head. He felt the uneasiness under your stare and yours only, no one else here stares at him after all, not with the corner of their eyes like that. Feeling like there's something wrong, like he'd done something wrong, the man low-key tried to avoid you as much as possible. When he heard the team is going out today, he thought he could have the room for himself for once. He planned to sit down with his sketchbook and a cup of coffee, draw anything that comes into mind. But there you were, sitting there with your own cup, the very same one he planned to use.

“Want some tea?” You ask, trying to break the silence. The man is not moving, eyes darting around the room like he's afraid of looking at you. He nodded quietly, walking slowly to the couch you are sitting on.

“Sure.” The corner of his lips tug into a tiny smile. He doesn't often wear his sniper hood when he's off duty, still, you don't get to see much of his face enough to get a good look. His blue eyes are soft, not showing any glimpse of violence like the time he’s in the field, just innocent eyes blinking slowly at you. Dark brown hair looks a bit messy like he's just woken up. You can see a tiny bit of his facial hair, like he shaved recently. You stop your eyes from wandering down his figure before he notices. You stand up, walking to the counter.

You were a bit too late though.

“Milk or no milk?” You turn back to the man who's still standing right in the same spot you last saw him.

“Milk, please”

“You can sit down, you know” You chuckle, he let out a small 'oh' before lowing himself down on the couch next to your spot. You continue making a cup of warm tea for him, moving around the counter like you own the place, which you do. You are mostly the one who uses this space, occasionally Ghost will come and help you around quietly. Picking stuff and cutting veggies for you when you cook, you always impressed how the man can do such domestic things so very well.

“You don't like hunting too?” The raspy voice of his almost makes you jump. You turn back to him with a cup in your hand. König in his oversized black sweater makes him look so small from where you are standing, you wonder how he finds oversized clothes for his size.

“Yeah,” You sat down beside him, handing the cup to his hand which he accepted with a small 'danke' “I see no need for hunting for some wild rabbits or chickens when we already have supermarkets.”

“You like animals?”

“Yeah, I used to have time to walk in the forest and look around.” You sip your tea, looking up at him. “What about you?”

“I like them,” You swear you can almost see a smile on his face when he speaks. He brews the cup softly and takes a sip of his tea, looking up at you like he's about to say something, but he doesn't. Then his eyes darted away.

“Is the tea bad?” You said jokingly. A soft breath sighing off of his mouth, he eyed you for a second then looked back to the cup in his hands.

“Oh- nein, nein, it's nice, smells sweet.” He took another sip. You kinda thought he’s not a tea guy, he smells like coffee, a whole bunch of coffee. It's so strong you wonder if it's his scent or just in your head. In fact, you can smell it right now, making you want to just press your face on his sweater arm to inhale those coffee smells, but that's going to be weird. You don't really have to keep your distance between the others in the team though, you trust them enough to squish between them on the couch watching movies, or in the Humvee seat occasionally. But König and you are not yet that close. “Though I prefer coffee.”

“You could've told me” You replied to him, chuckling. Now you know that he's really a coffee person, not just your nose messing with you.

“How could I turn down your generous offer?” König replied softly, thinking to himself why you would talk so sweetly to him. After all that side-eyeing, he expected you to be cold to him, at least colder than how you are right now.

“How sweet of you.” You smiled softly, then the uncomfortable feeling crept up on you. Suddenly your mind thinks you should've said something more, something nicer. You are not the type to start a conversation, but continuing it never was a problem. At least not until now.

Your eyes moved to the sketchbook on the table in front of him, the cover is brown, you can see a small word written down on the bottom right corner, könig. You smiled to yourself before looking back outside, raising the cup to your lips. You try not to look at him, pretend to focus on something else thinking he might be comfortable not sharing a conversation. When you hear the sound of the paper flipping, you couldn't help but move your eyes back on him slowly, thinking he wouldn't notice.

König flipped the book to an almost empty page, one hand grabbed the pencil and started making outlines vaguely. The curve made by his skilled hand is flawless, you watch him continue on his work. He, once again, looks so peaceful and calming, just like when he spaced out while resting his eyes on something.

“Why do you keep staring at me like that?” The sudden voice of his made you almost jump. König stopped his hand from drawing, eyes still locked down on the paper in his hands.

“I'm sorry?”

“Why do you glance at me like that?” He repeated, this time with a quieter tone. He dropped the pencil on the sketchbook, tossed them on the table. His eyes still not on you but on his hands, which are now clipped together between his parted legs. You were taken aback with the sudden change of gesture. König doesn't look like how he was anymore, fingers fidgeting together. It's like he took all his courage to burst out that simple question, now he just wants the answer. “If my presence makes you feel uncomfortable, just tell me.”

“Why would I be- Oh…” You paused, realizing that he might have taken your stare in a negative way, had he noticed it all along. “Oh, I'm so sorry König-”

“Please do tell me, so I know if I should leave.”

“No, please, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that, it’s just-” You paused, thinking over and over about words you will say. The man is already upset, you are worried that if you don’t think carefully, this might be a bad start for you both. “I was scared to confront you.”

“Oh...” The man says softly, his body seems to soften up a bit, his shoulders are not tense anymore.

“I was scared to talk to you, so I thought I can just sneak a look at you and maybe I will know something more about you I- I- I don’t know.” You blurted out everything in your mind in a fast, confusing sentence. You hide your face in your hands, attempting to hide the blush on your cheeks, this is so embarrassing. You wanted to look calm and cool in front of him, now you are just stuttering like someone caught you stealing or something. “Not every day that you get to know someone new in this situation. Plus, your eyes are beautiful.”

“Oh, danke.” König sighs softly, hands rubbing up and down his thighs. You can almost see his face turning brighter, you didn't want to get ahead of yourself, but you can see his face turned red.

“How about we start over?” You asked enthusiastically, smiling and sitting up straight, like you didn't just give him the sweetest compliment he's ever got. König looked taken aback by your excitement.

“O-Of course.”

You both spend some time talking after that. It started with what you know, his interest in drawing. You asked him what he likes to draw, how often, has he ever drawn anything from memory or imagination. He asked if you draw too, you told him you did when you were younger. He is also a cat person, and he loved cuddling with his cat when he was younger.

The time passed so fast, the sun is beginning to set. You realize when the orange shade of ray touched his blue eyes. König seems to notice that you are staring. He stopped talking, tilted his head and his lips formed a small grin.

“You are staring again.”

“Oh, sorry,” You collected yourself. He shook his head in a fake-disbelief way. “You were saying?”

“I said,” He spoke the next part of the sentence so quietly you almost didn’t hear. “I might not like the way you looked at me before but, the way you just did wasn’t so bad.”

#konig x you #konig imagine #konig x reader #konig call of duty #könig x reader #könig imagine #könig x y/n #könig x you #cod x you #cod x reader

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ashsolar · 1 month

Text

favourite thingᯓ★ln4

it gets better trust me. a lil lando pov included🤍

chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter five

Coming back to a place you once thought of as your home is never easy, what’s even difficult is saying goodbyes to the things you once cherished. It’s been years since your grandfather died and you know it’s time to sell the one thing you had been dreading to sell in order to set yourself free.

𐙚

chapter four

𐙚

You hadn't seen him in a month. You felt bad, guilty. He gave you the utmost comfort and respect you desired and you just left him, moments after you showed him that you were all his. You lost all the passion you had for modelling, you had no motivation knowing you left him like this, alone and crippled. It didn't help that he wanted to make things right with you but you ignored every text, every attempt to reconcile with him. You knew you would never see him again. He must have gotten the hint. It had been a week since the texts stopped, it had been 2 weeks since you told him to stop contacting you and forget about you. You didn't think he would go through with it but he did. That pit of loneliness was back inside your stomach, without Lando, there was no happiness and with him there was no sadness.

You had just come back from work. You were lying down in the comfort of your bed, Gossip Girl playing in the background. You didn't want to watch your favourite show or eat your meals. You needed to know if he was okay. You took a couple deep breaths and opened Instagram, searching his profile. You clicked on it, wanting some update on his life. You smiled as you saw his profile hadn't changed a bit. It sill had pictures of him smiling and goofing around with his fellow drivers. He was no longer in Monaco for now at least. You clicked on a post of his. It was him posing and goofing around in front of a beautiful heart background. Your heart did a backflip as you saw his smile. The same smile that was once for you and only you. Scrolling down you saw a fogged up window with a smiley face drawn on it. You recognised the windows from your old house. You were pleasantly surprised that he didn't sell the house after your sudden departure. You were happy to know that a part of him still wanted to hold onto you, and the memories you both shared. Even if they were short lived that was the best month of your life, touring around Monaco, in his car and on cheap vespas, walks to the beach, gelato for every meal but you knew that that smiley face was ironic to how he was really feeling. "Shit" you groaned as you accidentally liked a post of his. This was a sign that it was time to close Instagram for the day or maybe for a while. He'll probably ignore the notification after all he must have so many people stalking his Instagram. He probably won't notice the notification, you thought to yourself. You switched off your phone and kept it on your nightstand, deciding to focus on the show and not on the mistake you just made. You got under the covers and cuddled the bunny plush on your bed, paying attention to the show. Before sleeping you checked your phone again, you stared at your phone. There was no notification from Instagram, no text message from his number which was long forgotten and was neatly hidden away in your contacts. Maybe he doesn't care about you anymore, you probably don't mean anything to him anymore for all you know he might have a girlfriend now. A lot can change in a month. You slipped back in the comfort of your bed. Switching the small source of light on your nightstand off and tried to sleep but you couldn't. You couldn't sleep just like that one night, except you weren't in a hotel room, you weren't in Monaco and Lando wasn't in the same country as you. You stepped out of your bed, wore a coat and left your penthouse. You walked in the streets of Soho, wanting some company but who could you call, your brother was in the Upper East Side, pissed at you, your best friend was all the way down in Brooklyn and Lando was in Monaco, busy racing and hating on you. So you just chose to be alone, walk around alone with no one around. You found yourself sitting in an old bar alone, phone gripped tightly in your hand as you drank cheap beer, crying letting all your feelings out. You didn't know why you were missing Lando suddenly, you hated feeling like this helpless, alone, unworthy, unlovable. You sniffled and opened your messages, you scrolled down, where your conversation with Lando was long forgotten, you clicked on his name and scrolled to the top, the text messages taking you back to the moment Lando was coming to see the house for the first time. You smiled reading all those text messages you two exchanged but soon your smile faded and that painful feeling in your chest was back again.

Why did you leave? come back here.

Forget about me Lando, it was a huge mistake.

So, what your trying to say is that everything that happened between us was a mistake?

I never should've have gone to the house that night.

Forget about that, I miss you just come back.

I can't it's best you forget about me.

I can't.

Don't contact me ever again Lando, it's over.

These text messages were a contrast to the playful conversations you two always shared and it wasn't a pretty contrast, it was an ugly contrast. These messages crippled your insides, and made your eyes glossy, and your heart filled with guilt. He was willing to give you a chance to fix everything, heck, he was ready to fix everything on his own. Who would turn down a guy like him. You grabbed a couple beer bottles, gave cash to the bartender serving you and left, chugging beers as you walked back home in an invisible blanket of guilt and heartbreak covering you. You were drunk out of your mind by the time you reached home. Your phone read 3:00 AM.

You got under the covers for the third time that day, still wearing your shoes, holding your phone tightly and close to your chest as you cried yourself to sleep.

You woke up the next morning with a headache, groaning you got up and washed your face and started getting ready for the day. You stood in the balcony of your beautiful Soho apartment, drinking coconut water, trying to get rid of the hangover you had. Your schedule was packed, back to back shoots.

You stood in a mini white dress, beautiful waves cascading down your shoulders, as you posed, giving the camera the most fake smile ever. You had become exceptionally talented at building walls and creating facades, that's how you survived in this industry by faking everything. You got off work late that night, sitting in your baby pink Porsche, you stared at your phone in shock, a notification showing that Lando had liked one of your recent posts. You held your phone close to your chest and sighed in relief. Maybe he didn't hate you as much as you thought he did, he still cared, this like was enough for you to know that he still wanted you as much as you wanted him, maybe things weren't over between you both after all.

𐙚

Meanwhile Lando, had just come to his hotel room after a long jog, and opened Instagram after what felt like ages, he smiled when he saw a notification that said you had liked one of his posts. He got the clarification he needed, you still cared about him, even after that night that ruined everything for the both of you. Your Instagram was something he visited on a daily basis, to check on you, to make sure you were okay. He would stare at pictures of you in awe, he would feel a sense of adoration when you would post about your work, and his heart would melt when you would post your niece. Fate would bring you two back together, he could feel it deep in his bones. Only he knew how he felt when woke up in his bed alone, without you in his arms. You left without an explanation, no note, no text message, nothing, you disappeared as if you were never there in the first place, as if you were just a figment of his imagination, that he had just imagined this beautiful and lost girl, who had come to sell her childhood home. He fell in love with you in such a short period of time, he showed his vulnerable side to you, a side he showed to no one and you just left him, after you made false promises of never letting him go but he couldn't hate you, he never could, he was drawn to you when he first saw you crying and he was still drawn to you after two months of that incident. He thought he would be the one to wave the white flag first but no it was you, it was you who waved it first.

"Still thinking about her mate"

Lando looked up from his phone and saw his best friend Max, "I shouldn't have given you the spare key to my room, now all you do is scare and torment me".

Max laughed, "That's what friends are for". He took a seat next to Lando on the bed, "But seriously forget about her, it's pathetic that you still pine over her".

"It's not pathetic" Lando muttered under his breath

"The moment you two get together, I'll change my opinion, but for now it's pathetic".

"Great friend, you are Max" Lando laughed

Max snatched Lando's phone from his hand, "Stop stalking her and stop being delusional"

Lando snatched the phone back and shot Max a death glare, "I am not being delusional, she liked one of my posts, she was stalking me too".

"Follow her then, if you want to stalk her, do it like a normal person".

Lando nodded in agreement, and clicked the blue follow button on your profile, which now turned grey and read following, "It shouldn't be weird now?"

𐙚

You sat in a coffee shop down town with your best friend, sipping on overpriced lattes as you discussed about the latest gossip in your lives, "I still can't believe you liked a post of his"

You took a bite of the decadent cheesecake in front of you, "He liked one of my posts back Lilly"

Your best friend scoffed, "Yeah sure, after what you did to the guy, I doubt it".

You took out your phone and squealed in excitement as you noticed that he had followed you, you smirked and shoved your phone in her face, her eyes widened as she squealed, snatching the phone from you, she followed him back from your side, "Holy shit, he's whipped".

You stared at your phone, "You sure?"

"Heck yeah"

You played with your hair, putting your sunglasses back on as you noticed the paparazzi around the corner, "What do you think I should do?"

"I think it's time for you both to start talking again".

"I don't think he'll text me, it's still a bit too soon for that". You wanted to make amends, you were ready to, you were ready to fix everything on your own but you weren't so sure about Lando, at the end of the day it was him who got hurt the most.

"Then you text him, you want to fix things right?"

"A text won't fix anything, I need a grand gesture".

"Go to the Australian Grand Prix then," Your friend suggested.

"I can't, I am too busy that day, you know what, I'll send him flowers before the race, maybe that will show him how much I appreciate him".

Lilly gave you an approving smile, "I love that".

You were ready to fix things between you and Lando, you thought your story had ended but it was just beginning.

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #f1 x oc #lando norris fluff #lando norris f1

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justfandomwritings · 2 years

Text

You'll See Why (Peter Ballard x Reader)

Pairing: Peter Ballard x Female!Reader, implied Steve x Reader (Does not really factor into the story)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: mostly just fluff and angst that doesn't require a content warning. General content warnings consistent with Stranger Things

Summary: It couldn't be him. She refused to believe it. Eleven had to be wrong, had to have the wrong person. It wasn't that he wasn't capable of something like this; in the back of her mind, she knew he was. More, it was that she didn't want to face what it meant about herself.

Masterlist. Ko-Fi.

There was a familiar face staring blankly up at her from the page… she knew this face.

“Well, he looks evil,” Steve mused, looking at the drawing over her shoulder.

“He was 001… He was the first. They built the lab to contain him.” Eleven explained.

(Y/n) was holding up the sketch Eleven had drawn of the patient from Hawkins Lab, who Eleven knew as 001, that Nancy had discovered was Henry, that they all called Vecna.

(Y/n) knew that face.

“(Y/n)?” Dustin touched her shoulder. “(Y/n), are you okay?”

She heard her brother’s voice talking to her, and yet somehow she didn’t register it. He felt, he sounded, so far away.

It felt like an out of body experience, like her thoughts were no longer contained inside her brain, like they were swirling around her in a cloud, consuming her entire world. This was not Henry Creel, could not be Vecna. Eleven had to be wrong. She knew this face, and she knew it all too well.

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“Hi Peter, I see they let you out again. The usual?” (Y/n) smiled brightly.

Peter was her favorite regular at Benny’s, not that he was all that regular. He came in once every couple weeks or so. She assumed whenever the lab could spare him, though he always referred to it as a “reward” for good behavior. Benny’s menu was hardly “reward” worthy. It was decent. Benny was a good cook, but it was just regular diner food. She could think of four other diners in Hawkins that served the same fair, though Benny’s was certainly the closest to the ltab.

He wasn’t a particularly nice regular. He tipped very well, which she appreciated, but most regulars do or they wouldn’t be regulars anymore. Mostly, he was her favorite because he was an enigma. He worked for the Hawkins National Laboratory up the road, and he was very cagey about his work and himself.

“No coffee,” Peter amended without looking up from the papers in front of him.

(Y/n) scribbled haphazardly on the ticket and slid it across the window to put on deck for Benny. There were a couple tickets ahead of it, and that gave her extra time.

(Y/n) dragged the stool out from behind the register and plopped down directly in front of Peter, propping her elbows on the counter and looking at him expectantly.

Peter rolled his eyes but kept them trained on his work. This was (Y/n)’s usual routine any time Peter came into the diner, so he didn’t need to look up to know she was staring him down.

“Must you watch your customers so intently? I feel like a subject in the lab.”

“Only the interesting ones,” (Y/n) dismissed. “Now tell me; how’s the lab?”

Peter flipped over one of the pages mindlessly. He hadn’t processed all the words, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen if (Y/n) had anything to say about it. He kept up the appearance of reading though to hold her interrogations to a minimal. “It is in its usual state. I am nothing but a humble nurse for the children being experimented upon and tortured within its walls.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the kind of joke she would have made, but she let it slide. “Yes, of course, but how is your work?”

“Why would you care to know?” Peter dismissed the question.

“Because I’m bored, and like my brother always says life is a curiosity voyage.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Your brother sounds foolish.”

“Hey,” (Y/n) reached up and smacked Peter lightly on the side of the head, causing him to jolt. He stared at her in utter disbelief, as if no one had ever touched him before in his life, which she found very hard to believe. He was far too high and mighty, full of himself, not to have been bullied as a kid. “That’s my brother. Only I get to mess with him.”

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Nonresponsive and zoned out was not a good thing to be in Hawkins, Indiana in 1986.

“She’s infected with Vecna!” Dustin began to panic, “Quick someone get my headphones from the desk,” Dustin pointed to the desk behind Max, who practically threw the headphones in her rush to get them to Steve as Dustin ran to the small shelf and began digging through Mike’s cassette tapes.

“No, no,” (Y/n) shook aside the memory as quickly as she could manage. “Dustin,” she called to her brother, “Really, I’m fine!”

“Like hell you are,” behind her, Steve forced the plastic strap of the headphones around her neck. “Seriously? How hard is it to find Pat Benatar!” Steve shouted.

“Again, I’m fine,” (Y/n) rolled her eyes, wrenching the headphones off.

They couldn’t afford to waste a pair on her now. She could feel things coming to a head. Over the last 24 hours, virtually all of them had had to procure a pair of headphones and wrap them around their necks. Only Steve, Dustin, Eleven, and herself hadn’t heard the ticking of a clock at some point yet. A low drone of noise was filling the room as songs played from the necks of the other occupants.

“Really!” She insisted to the skeptical crowd of teens staring her down, “no ticking. I was just…” In addressing the room, her eyes found Eleven’s, “remembering something.”

Eleven’s eyes seemed to see right through her, and (Y/n) hesitated for a moment, wavering in whether revealing this information was a good idea or not. Everyone else in the room was staring at her, eyes darting now and again to Eleven.

It was too late to back out now. She took a breath and, watching Eleven’s face intently for her reaction, said the name.

“Peter Ballard.”

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“Hi again Peter, I’ll put the usual on for you.” (Y/n) greeted him with a wave as he came through the door.

This time, when Peter walked in, Benny’s was empty except for herself and Benny. He had his usual folder full of papers tucked under his arm, stamped with the fancy Hawkins Lab’s seal on the cover declaring it was privileged information.

“Thank you,” Peter took up his usual counter seat.

He had a way of being both extraordinarily polite and also incredibly rude at the same time. It was like he had spent his entire life being lectured on manners without actually having a single social interaction in which to use them.

“Benny!” (Y/n) called loudly over the order window, “Peter’s usual!”

Benny was somewhere in the back. With the diner being empty, Benny had ducked out to rearrange the stock while he left (Y/n) to mind the front. “Give me just a minute!” She heard her boss shout back.

“So!” (Y/n) whipped around, leaning back against the order window, “Gonna tell me how work was today?”

“Tiresome.” Peter clipped.

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, “That’s about as descriptive as you’ve ever been. Was it coworkers or your human test subjects?” She said the last part teasingly.

Peter paused for a moment, still not looking up from his papers, but he seemed to consider her question longer than he usually would before dismissing her. “Boss.” Having answered, Peter immediately went back to flipping through pages, only adding under his breath, “Not that I would call him that, persay. He’s more like my worst nightmare.”

(Y/n) chuckled and approached, taking up her usual seat across from him. “Tell me about it. Last week, Benny didn’t let me off early on Friday even though it was my mom’s birthday, so my little brother recruited his friends to try to bake her birthday cake instead of waiting for me and almost lit my house on fire.”

The word fire seemed to catch Peter’s attention. He still didn’t give her the time of day or meet her eyes, still seemed to think that she was too beneath him for that, but his head did cock to one side. He was listening.

“What’s so nightmarish about your boss?”

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“What do you mean you ‘know’ Vecna?” Dustin demanded.

“He came into Benny’s from time to time,” (Y/n) felt like she was retreating into her skin. Eleven, Mike, Eddie, Max, the whole room. They were all watching her with dark eyes, watching her like they were watching the enemy.

Dustin was staring at her in utter shock. He didn’t notice the looks from his friends or the fear in her eyes. He was still trying to comprehend this massive piece of information.

Only Steve’s hand, resting with a firm grip on her shoulder, was keeping her grounded in the room, keeping her from bolting out the door like a frightened deer.

“And you talked to him? You knew him?” Max joined the questioning, her tone far closer to interrogation than Dustin’s disbelieving one.

(Y/n) shrugged defensively, “Lots of people from the labs came in. We were the closest restaurant. He said he was a nurse. I didn’t know he was the literal devil.”

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“Your boss sounds like a dick, no offense.”

“None taken.” Peter had talked to her. He had actually talked to her. Granted, they were complaining about their bosses, which was the oldest and most basic form of bonding in the book, but still. It was something. “He is.”

“Well,” (Y/n) hopped down from the seat she had taken on the counter while he recounted his tale of woe. “I’m gonna start cleaning up if it’s all the same to you.”

Peter waved his hand down the length of the counter and immediately reverted his eyes back to his papers that were off to the side of the plate he was presently eating off of.

(Y/n) smirked to herself as she pulled out her rag. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. She’d be damned if she wasn’t going to keep poking at him till she got the answers she wanted.

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It was Nancy who turned the whole scene into a proper interrogation. Though, perhaps given her profession, it was more of an interview. She waved the kids away from the seat in front of (Y/n) and took up a spot front and center in her vision.

“Tell us everything you know about him. Start from the beginning.”

(Y/n) took a breath and recited the facts as coldly and emotionlessly as she could manage. “His name was Peter Ballard. He came into the diner once every couple weeks. Everyone else from the lab came in groups, but he…” Her voice cracked for a moment, and she hoped everyone else in the room saw it as nothing more than the nerves it was, “He was always alone. He barely talked to me. The others said he was a nurse, and that he never talked to anyone in the lab either. He always brought files with him to read. It took months for him to even bother making eye contact with me.”

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“You never went to a proper high school?”

“No,” Peter droned. He still acted thoroughly unamused with her presence, but he had started more readily answering her questions.

(Y/n) huffed and leaned back on her stool, tilting away from him. “Well, that explains so much.”

Peter’s eyes shot up from his paper, and for the first time he met her gaze. Not exactly an angry expression, but at the least a doubtful one, colored his face as his eyebrows drew together. “How?”

“Well,” she let the legs of her stool fall back on the floor with a crash as she leaned forward towards Peter, “Sure, you didn’t have to deal with assholes on the basketball team shoving you into lockers, or girls on the cheer squad making fun of your clothes. But you also never found a group of friends with the same niche interest as you, or a guy to bond with over your mutual hatred of some bully, or a cute girl who thought you were the cutest thing since God invented puppies.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed.

“No, I’m serious,” (Y/n) immediately dismissed his expression. “Sure, there are giant swathes of humanity that are the absolute worst, but there are some humans who are really great when you give them the chance. And you,” she poked a finger into his chest, “never did. You were aware that some people sucked, but you didn’t hang around long enough to find the ones that didn’t before you decided to write all of us off as intolerable.”

Peter pursed his lips and turned back to his files. He wasn’t going to continue this line of conversation.

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“That’s really all I know, Nancy. I swear.” (Y/n) huffed.

“There has to be something though!” Nancy jumped up from her seat and began to pace, “It can’t be a coincidence that you knew him. Can it?”

“I didn’t know him,” She emphasized. “We didn’t exactly bare our souls to each other and get matching tattoos. We were friendly. He came in every couple weeks, ordered the same thing. Towards the end he started making small talk, but that was it. Small talk. He didn’t exactly spell out for me that he had dreams of becoming a mass murderer.”

“Yeah, but what are the odds that you would get wrapped up in all of this?” Jonathan pointed out. “It sounds like you’re the only person he talked to outside of the lab.”

“Pretty freakin’ high, Jonathan,” (Y/n) huffed. “If you haven’t noticed, Hawkins isn’t a metropolis. It’s a pretty small town, and weird shit keeps happening. We’re all wrapped up in it at this point.”

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(Y/n) froze, staring at Peter as he approached his usual seat at the counter. She’d clocked him instantly when he walked in, and instantly had known something was very off.

He looked more or less the same, all white outfit, holier than thou expression. His hair was in its usual blonde waves, and he seemed more or less as agitated with his own existence as he usually did.

“H-Hey Peter, Usual?” (Y/n) asked.

“Yes, please,” Peter replied.

And in that moment she realized it. That moment when he sat there, still looking up at her expectantly, waiting for her to put his order in. That moment when he didn’t look down.

No files.

(Y/n) rushed the order in to Benny and whirled back around to join Peter. There were a handful of other people in the diner, but they were all regulars who’d already gotten their food and knew their way around. She was completely unbothered with doing her rounds to their tables.

“Why no files?”

Peter raised an eyebrow, “Aren’t you the one who’s always bugging me to talk to you?”

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“He’s not here,” Dustin dropped the flashlight back to his side with a huff.

They had gone to the Creel house again, hoping to find where in the Upside Down Vecna was. Now that they had Eleven, with her powers back no less, they wanted to lure him to a place they could face off against him.

“(Y/n),” Lucas called over the bannister from the second floor. “Did Vecna ever mention anywhere else he liked to go? Or somewhere else in Hawkins he felt connected to?”

“No!” (Y/n) shouted back with a huff, “If he’s not here he must be at the lab!”

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“So?” (Y/n) smiled, “Thoughts?”

“It’s… cold.” Peter mused.

(Y/n) huffed and pulled back from where she was leaning on the counter. “That’s it? It’s cold? I thought you were going to actually help me? You know, useful feedback?”

Peter slowly pushed the mostly-full milkshake away from his plate. “I never agreed to help you. You only assumed I would when I came in.”

“Yeah! For a free milkshake!” (Y/n) threw her hands up, utterly exasperated with him, “You have to have more thoughts than ‘it’s cold’. I’m making Benny put milkshakes on the menu, and it’s my ass on the line if they aren’t good.”

“It’s sweet.” Peter added, picking up another fry and taking a bite.

“Ooooh! Thank you so much! That’s so much more helpful.” She bit back sarcastically.

Rolling her eyes, (Y/n) snatched the milkshake away, slurping through Peter’s abandoned straw. She made a face, “Oh, ok… that is sweet.”

Peter didn’t meet her eyes, but he waved his hand and made a face that very much said ‘told-you-so’.

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It didn’t look like anyone had been in the lab since Eleven closed the portal. The bodies had been cleaned up, no doubt by the military coverup team, but the broken glass in the screened in room surrounding the old portal was still strewn about the floor. Hopper’s gun Bob had left in the control room was still on the desk. There were even still spatters of blood every few feet along the walls and stains from dried up blood on the floors.

“So,” Robin murmured quietly to (Y/n), “This is what Round 2 looked like? Man I am so glad I just had the Russians.”

“It doesn’t look like he’s here either. Doesn’t even look like he’s been here at all. There’s no portal,” Will assessed, turning back to the room.

“Fuck!” Mike turned, kicking a wall. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

He wasn’t at his old home. He wasn’t at the lab. He wasn’t at any of the places he’d opened portals that they knew about. (Y/n) was at a loss. There wasn’t anywhere else to look.

He must be hiding, hiding somewhere completely random with absolutely no connection to him. It was the logical thing to do if he didn’t want to be found, but it just didn’t make sense. Sure, Eleven said 001 was a creature completely void of any emotion, set to the singular purpose of restoring order to the world by ridding it of humanity.

But (Y/n) knew that wasn’t true. Hell, the Party should’ve known that wasn’t true. 001 had slaughtered an entire lab in an instant he was so blinded by rage, not even giving them the option to join them that he’d given Eleven. When he became Vecna and was sent to the Upside Down, the first place they knew he’d gone was home. Max had seen the disassembled pieces of the Creel house in Vecna’s inner hideout in the Upside Down. And Henry had talked to Nancy about her visit to his father, about how he’d vengefully plotted his demise.

Even the Peter (Y/n) knew was riddled with emotions, most of them negative, but still they were there. Even when he was putting on a neutral face, she always knew he detested humanity. He hated his job. He…

He’d teased her about her milkshakes, about how much she talked, about high school, about her brother. He’d…

(Y/n) bolted for the door. “Steve, get the keys! I know where he went!” She shouted.

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

“So why don’t you ever sit with them?” (Y/n) asked, nodding with her chin over Peter’s shoulder to the lab coats at the table behind him.

They weren’t literally wearing lab coats, but in her mind everyone who worked in a lab was supposed to be wearing a coat. So that’s what she called them. In actuality, they were all dressed almost exactly the same as Peter.

“I mean, I know you hate them, but even you have to get lonely sometimes.”

Peter picked up another fry and put it in his mouth, avoiding her question.

“There must be someone tolerable enough to eat lunch with.”

“I eat with you.” Peter told her, “Do I need someone else?”

(Y/n) felt her cheeks turn a little bit pink, and she tried to swallow it down. “Well no, but you must have friends. Someone at the lab? Or someone from when you were a kid? I know you were homeschooled, but still. Everyone needs friends.”

Peter snorted, and (Y/n) wasn’t sure if it was at the idea of him needing someone or at the idea of having a friend. “Well, I regret to inform you that I just have you.”

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

There was a portal, up against the wall of the diner, behind the counter right where she used to sit when she would talk to Peter.

“Dead on, (Y/n).” Steve patted her shoulder, joking, “He must’ve really liked the eggs.”

Grilled chicken with a side of fries and a coffee. Always the same food; didn’t matter what meal it was. (Y/n) didn’t bother to voice that though.

“It’s one of the basketball players,” Dustin pointed out.

A pair of broken, twisted out of shape, legs were sticking out from behind one of the couches the kids had dragged into Benny’s after it was deserted.

“It’s bigger…” Eleven murmured, taking a step forward towards the portal.

Mike caught her arm, pulling her back away from the portal.

(Y/n) didn’t join in, the banter or the analysis. She was staring at the portal.

It was right where she used to sit, literally right there. If Peter had been there, and she’d been in her usual spot talking to him, all she would’ve had to do was tip her stool back, like she always did, and she would’ve fallen straight into the Upside Down.

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

“You’re gonna fall over if you keep doing that,” Peter pointed down to the legs of her stool.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and continued to totter back and forth on the back legs of the stool. “Then I’ll knock my head in and get off work early, and you won’t have to put up with me. Sounds like a win for both of us.”

The front legs of the stool slammed to the ground, and (Y/n) stared wide-eyed, mouth ajar, at Peter.

Peter’s eyes had a fire to them she had never seen. There was something there, something behind his usual disinterested, annoyed expression. Something dangerous.

He had a vice-like grip on her wrist, and (Y/n) was positive that she was going to have a ringed bruise around the bone there in the morning from how tightly he held her and how hard he’d jerked her back forward. Her arm was stretched out across the width of the counter, practically touching his chest he’d jerked her so far back.

The shock in her face seemed to douse the fire in his. “Sorry,” Peter cleared his throat, dropping her wrist.

“N-No, it’s okay.” (Y/n) dismissed haphazardly. “Didn’t realize I was worrying you.”

Under his breath, so quietly she wasn’t quite sure she heard him right, Peter whispered, “Of course you worry me.”

“What was that?” (Y/n) asked.

“Nothing, just don’t want you dead on the floor. The hassle of finding another friend is unappealing.”

“Well,” (Y/n) smiled, though not as brightly this time as she usually did, “you can’t get rid of me that easy.”

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

Vecna.

A grey body, void of skin and hair and a face. Vine-like Tentacles protruding from his back, whipping back and forth in all directions as if they had a mind of their own, encircling the party, drawing them tighter and tighter into him.

She knew what Eleven told her, knew the story of how Vecna had come to be, but she just couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t see Peter under there, inside the monster.

She couldn’t see Peter batting away Eleven with a vine, without a care in the world for her scream as she went flying back into a deadened tree.

Not Peter, not her Peter.

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

“I’m sorry.”

(Y/n) looked up, startled. She hadn’t heard anyone come in. She’d been too absorbed in the math homework splayed across Benny’s counter to notice anything other than the mental image she’d been constructing of going to watch all of her friends graduate knowing she was going to have to repeat senior year.

“Oh Peter, I didn’t hear you come in. Usual?”

Peter sat down in front of her, which was not in his usual seat. “No, I only… I came here to talk, to apologize, and say goodbye.”

“Wait you’re leaving?” (Y/n) dropped the pencil from her hand. “Are they moving you out of the lab? What’s going on?”

“There’s been a… development. And soon my services will no longer be required.” Peter caught the pencil (Y/n) hadn’t heard rolling across the counter and carefully balanced it back in place in front of her textbook.

“W-Well, where are you going?” She tried, and failed miserably, to hide the disappointment from her tone, “I’m sure they have phones there. I’d hate to leave you with no one to pester you every week.”

“I can’t tell you.” Peter smiled, actually smiled. (Y/n) didn’t know if it was unnerving or endearing. It was the first time she’d ever seen him smile. She got the occasional snear, once in a while a smirk if she was particularly amusing that day. But he never smiled, certainly not like this, sad, disheartened, like he was sorry he had to go. “That’s why I came. I know I scared you last time I was here. I… I showed too much of myself, and for that I’m sorry.”

“Peter, you don’t have to apologize.” (Y/n) reached out, hesitantly and took his hand. “Not for being yourself at least.”

“Oh but I do.” Peter dismissed. Turning his hand over, Peter took hers in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Maybe one day you’ll see why.”

And as easily as he slipped into her life, he was gone.

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

“Eddie,” She whispered from their hiding place behind the rock, “whatever happens, can you promise me something?”

“What?” Eddie whispered back to her.

(Y/n) hesitated for a moment before she peeled herself away from the rocker’s side. “Hold Steve back.” Turning to Jonathan on her other side, she patted his arm. “And don’t let him and Dustin do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

(Y/n) was usually an anxious, hesitant person. She was an extrovert to the extreme, but she was also very risk averse. She was the type of girl who walked with her eyes on her own feet, and her arms brought in across her chest at all times. She didn’t exude surety or confidence ever. The three words her friends would use to describe her were skittish, excitable, and self-conscious. With Dart, Dustin had taken the lead trapping the monster in the cellar. In the Byer’s home, she had cowered behind Steve, from the demodogs and from Billy. In Starcourt, her brother had practically dragged her down to the Russian base. She had been the one driving the distraction car, all too happy to put distance between herself, Dustin, and Steve and the Mindflayer.

She was not fearless like Nancy or powerful like Eleven or a natural leader like Steve. In the face of monsters and spies and alternate dimensions, she was scared, like any normal person would be.

But this, she’d convinced herself, wasn’t a monster from an alternate dimension. A monster, maybe, but one she knew.

“(Y/n), what are you doing?” Jonathan tried to grab at her arm, but she moved faster, ducking out of the way as she came running out from behind the rock.

Vecna was baring down on Eleven, standing in front of Lucas, Mike, and Dustin with her arms wide as she tried to push him back.

“(Y/n)!” The shout came from somewhere behind her, but she didn’t look back at Steve as she heard him running after her.

“PETER!” She came to a stop under him and shouted up into the air, at the body in the center of the mass of tentacles.

His head turned, slowly, towards her. “Peter, come down here!”

“(Y/n),” he said, seemingly to himself.

She should’ve been afraid, quaking in her boots afraid. But for once, she just couldn’t seem to manage it.

Somewhere in the distance she could hear Steve shouting, shouting at her, at Vecna, at Jonathan and Eddie for holding him back.

“Peter!” She called again.

The tentacles seemed to whip back and forth through the air, splaying themselves out flat on the ground and slowly encircling where she stood, as they lowered their master to the ground.

“NO!” Dustin tried to jump, but without instruction needed Lucas and Mike grabbed him and held him back.

“Peter, you don’t have to do this.”

“Peter is dead. Your friend,” he spat the word, “saw to that.”

“I know she put you here, but I don’t think Peter’s gone.” A tentacle slithered at the back of her heels, and (Y/n) took a step closer to Peter.

“You always had such idealistic notions.” He snarled, “This is what I am. Not Peter, this.” Two of the tentacles whipped out from the circle they had formed around (Y/n), and latched onto her wrists, wrenching her down to her knees.

(Y/n) shook her head, “I don’t believe that.”

The tentacles tightened around her wrist, and she bit back a whimper in disgust as they began wrapping themselves slowly up her arms.

“Society is a scourge (Y/n). The real curse is not me; it’s humanity.” Peter began walking towards her, the tentacles around her dragging her to meet him.

“Then why haven’t you cursed me? Killed me?” (Y/n) asked, “Everyone else has heard the clock ticking, Peter. But here I am.”

The tentacles were wrapping around her chest now, gluing her arms to her sides. Peter, Vecna, did not respond. He stood directly above her now, her bound defenseless at his feet.

“If Peter was dead then you wouldn’t be listening to me right now.”

One of the tentacles wrapped itself around her throat, but she didn’t feel it constricting her at all. It was like it didn’t know what to do.

“Let them go, Peter. They’re just kids. Scared, little kids like Henry used to be.”

Steve was still shouting and struggling with Jonathan and Eddie, and in her peripheral, it seemed Eleven had joined the boys in holding back Dustin.

“I’ll stay.” She whispered loud enough for only Peter to hear. “We’re friends right? I’ll stay here, with you. But you have to let them go. Leave them alone, leave Hawkins alone.”

Peter blinked. “You wouldn’t leave your brother.”

He sounded like Peter, the dark, raspy voice of Vecna was gone. He sounded young again; he sounded whole.

“I’ll leave him to protect him. Peter, you live in this place free of people and the society you hated, and it’s still not enough. You never wanted to be alone.” The grip the tentacles had on her was loosening, and (Y/n) tried to stand. The tentacles melted away as Peter saw what she wanted to do. “I’ll stay here, with you. You won’t be alone… But you have to let them go.”

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

“NO!” Dustin shoved forward and began pounding on the wall where to portal used to be. “No!”

His fingers tried digging into the wallpaper, into the wall. It had to be there; it couldn’t be gone. He could get back to her. They could save her.

The rest of the party watched in utter silence as Dustin scratched and clawed at the wall, trying to open the portal back to his sister.

No one tried to stop him, or intervene. They were all too stunned to speak, too stunned to move.

The only noise in the room was Dustin, screaming in despair at the wall, and Steve, quietly sobbing in the corner.

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

Note:

Thanks for reading! If you like this, please go read my Eddie Munson fic. I'd really appreciate it! I think it's even better than this one, and it meant a lot to me writing it. I look forward to knowing what you think!

#peter ballard #peter ballard x y/n #peter ballard x reader #vecna x reader #henry creel x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #peter ballard x you #peter ballard fluff #peter ballard angst #peter ballard fanfiction #peter ballard fanfic #vecna fanfiction #henry creel fanfiction #stranger things x you #steve harrington x reader #st4

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explosionkatsu · 11 months

Text

"Age doesn't matter" 16

Dad!Bakugo x F!Babysitter!Teacher!Reader

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

There was an awkward quietness as Katsuki drove you to your home. It was more on your part though, or so you thought. After what Katsuki had done a few hours ago, it made you want to question him. But knowing him, he’ll deny it as much as he can, or just ignore you. So, you just chose to keep your mouth shut.

Katsuki on the other hand was not in a great position as you are. He doesn’t regret kissing you at all, but he was confused on why he did it. Why did he even follow his impulse? This was the question he kept pondering over and over. He does find you attractive, and how great your relationship with his son is a plus. Overall, he’s admitting to himself that he was indeed drawn to you. But he doesn’t know the reason now, at least not yet.

It was always Kazui who’s helping to lift the mood between them, even though it was unintentional. But both adults are grateful to the kid, alright.

“We’re almost there,” Katsuki suddenly said, trying to break the silence.

“I know, it’s my house.” Y/n responded easily as she looked out the window.

“I’m just saying, idiot.” Katsuki responded as he glanced at her.

“Well, thank you but you don’t’ have to.” Y/n said back, almost in a sassy tone.

“Why do you sound like that?” Katsuki was scowling at he asked this, eyes focused on the road.

“Sound what?” You asked, this time looking at him confusedly.

“That.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Bakugo-san.” Y/n smirked looking away from him.

This made Katsuki angry. He doesn’t like it when you’re addressing him formally.

“What did I-

“Say about formality. Blab bla. You’re always saying that you know. It’s starting to get old.” Y/n crossed her arms as she said this.

“Shut up. You kept calling me Bakugo-san. It’s annoying.” Katsuki spatted at Y/n.

“Because you’re old.” Y/n giggled. “Didn’t you know you need to respect the elders?”

“Fuck off. I’m not that old.” Katsuki stares right at you before looking back at the road. “And don’t laugh. Like you’re not an old lady.”

“Excuse me, I’m only 23, thank you very much. Unlike you, grandpa.” Y/n giggled once again and kept teasing.

“I’m only 29, woman. Go away.”

A question suddenly pooped into Y/n’s mind. Obviously connected to the incident earlier.

“Question, Bakugo.” You started.

“If it’s something about my age, then just shut up.”

“It’s something about age though.” Y/n chuckled.

“Fine, whatever.” Katsuki said.

“Would you date someone who’s the same age as me?” Y/n asked. She was confused, okay? And no, she’s not getting her hopes up.

“Huh.” Katsuki was not expecting you to ask this. “Why’d you ask?”

“Well, I’m confused, and since we’re on this topic, just answer my question.”

“To quench your confusion, I might.” Katsuki smirked. “In relationships, age doesn’t matter. That’s what I believe. As long as it’s not lower than 20. I find that phedo-fucking-pile.”

…

“Thank you for the ride, Bakugo.” Y/n bowed as she said this.

“You’re too kind, you know.” Katsuki smirked at Y/n as he watches you bow in front of him. He was leaning against his car that was parked in front of your apartment.

“What do you mean?” You straightened up looking at him.

“Just an observation.” Katsuki looked away. “Get inside.”

“You can leave now.” You smiled at him.

“I’ll watch you get in first.” Katsuki deadpanned. “A villain might suddenly appear and take you away.”

“Pfft. Of course not.” You giggled. “Goodnight, Bakugo.”

Y/n bid Katsuki a goodnight and turned her heel towards her apartment.

Katsuki stayed by his car as he watched you get in. For some reason, your question made him think. Overthink, to clarify.

You’re causing butterflies, okay? And he hates it. It reminded him how he fell for his ex-wife. You can say he’s still traumatized by that. It’s the same old feeling he wanted to avoid. Even though he knows you’re different, he’s still scared.

He stayed outside for a moment, deep in thought. Should he trust his guts or just avoid everything? Kazui is his main priority right now, his reason why he’s continuing to live despite the pit that’s left in him.

Kazui has needs as well. Katsuki was aware that he wasn’t enough for him. His child still longs for a mother, and Y/n being around helps him.

Ever since Y/n came into their life, Kazui never asked about his mother again. That’s because the child sees you as a mother figure, and you treating him like your own child making Kazui attached to you.

Katsuki was indeed confused.

…

“Bro what took you so long?” Denki asked as he watched Katsuki come in.

“Fuck off. And for fuck’s sake, you emptied all my drink. Did you even leave some for me?” Katsuki barked at them while closing the door behind, locking it.

He came in noticing most of his canned alcoholic drinks empty on his now messy coffee table.

“Shouldn’t have left you idiots here. Clean that mess before you shitty extras leave.”

“Chill out bro. Why are you extra angsty today?” Eijiro noticed this. He was his best pal, what do you expect.

“I need a drink.” Katsuki mumbled as he scratches his head.

“Here.” Denki handed him one looking concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“As if I’d tell ya, you blabbermouth.” Katsuki snatched the drink out of Denki’s hand and sat right across from Eijiro.

Katsuki immediately popped the can open and almost drank all the liquid in one gulp which made Eijiro and Denki stare at him in disbelief.

“Bro. Are you sure you’re okay?” Denki asked once again.

After drinking all the content, Katsuki wiped his lips with the back of his hand and just placed the can on the coffee table. Leaning his head back against the couch, he let his head fall back making his stare at the ceiling. Still ignoring Denki, Katsuki releases a deep sigh.

“Okay. What’s wrong? Why won't you tell us?” Eijiro was getting distressed just by seeing Katsuki acting like this.

“First,” Katsuki sighed once again, “Pikachu is a fucking blabber mouth. Second, I’m still unsure so I’d rather keep this to myself. And third, this doesn’t concern the both of you, so shut up.” Katsuki said leaning back to the couch.

“No need to get pissed at us, bro.” Denki shakes his head. “It’s fine if you don’t want to tell us. But we’re always here to help ya, ya know?”

After Denki said that, Katsuki suddenly remembered how they used to warn him about his ex-wife which he didn’t give attention to. This might actually help him if he tells them. After all, they have a very keen eye.

“Alright. Fine.” Katsuki straightened up. “If I hear this from someone else, I will hunt you down, got it?” And of course, without threatening the poor electric hero.

“I-i swear.” Denki stuttered while trying to pull away from his glare.

“This is just me being confused; I don’t know.” Katsuki once again scratched the back of his head obviously frustrated about telling this.

“What is it? Geez.” Eijiro slightly smiled.

“Ugh. I fucking don’t know how to start. Go away.” Katsuki said loudly. “Even I don’t know why I felt this way.” His voice suddenly dropped as he said this.

“Bro, we can’t help you if you don’t get straight to the point.” Denki who was also getting frustrated as well.

A sigh escaped Katsuki as he rubs a palm on his face. “Like I said, duncface, I don’t know how to start.” He mumbled. “I’ve felt this way before when I met my ex-wife. Only this time, this feels fucking weird and it’s pissing me off.”

“You mean, to Miss Y/n?” Eijiro raised an eyebrow. He suddenly got interested.

Katsuki didn’t respond.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” Eijiro smirked at Katsuki’s silence.

“I fucking don’t know, okay. Tsch.” After saying this, Katsuki stood up and stride towards his bedroom.

“Hey, where are you going man?” Denki asked, starting to get concerned at his friend’s behavior.

“I’m going to change, idiot.” Katsuki said not glancing at them.

But before Katsuki went into his room, he entered Kazui’s room. There he saw his kid, sleeping peacefully, all cuddled up in his bed.

The view made him smile. He was glad he was able to give Kazui a good life.

Slowly yet quietly, he went closer to the bed and reached out a hand to caress Kazui’s head. The locks that he was so familiar with tickled against his palm as he softly brushes the strands away from Kazui’s face.

“I’m glad you looked like me, brat.” Katsuki mumbled before leaning down to place a kiss on Kazui’s forehead. “Goodnight, brat.” He whispered and straightened his posture preparing to leave the room.

Katsuki quietly left Kazui’s room. Sighing, he moves towards his room. Once he’s inside, he shrugs his jacket off throwing it on his office chair along with taking his shirt and pants off bringing it to his bathroom where he has his laundry basket.

His mind wasn’t letting him rest.

…

You were overthinking. You didn’t even know how many times you cursed yourself as you work in your living room.

You were sitting on your living room carpet while your laptop was placed on your small center table. A stack of papers was sitting on your left and an iced coffee was on your right, as well as some snacks you were munching on while you work.

But you know you’re distracted but you would shake your head and try to concentrate only to fail over and over.

As soon as you got home, you went rushing straight to your room to look out the window, not even bothering to turn the lights on. You saw Katsuki still leaning against his vehicle who looks like deep in thought. You were there for a few minutes just watching Katsuki ruffle his hair aggressively, kicking few pebbles away, and just looking around. After what seemed like an hour, he finally left.

Something was troubling him, but you were too afraid to even ask. Heck how are you even so sure he’d tell you. So, you just lightly shake your head and change into much more comfortable clothing before setting up your things to your living room.

Now here you are resting against your sofa as you sit on the floor, drinking your iced coffee and staringly blankly at the bright screen.

You didn’t expect Dynamight to kiss you.

Dynamight.

Dynamight!!

The number two hero just kissed you.

You, a mere kindergarten teacher.

Does he like you?

No, no. It’s too early to think about that. Maybe it’s just an impulse thing? Yeah, that’s probably it. But does that mean he was using you? I mean, after what happened to his ex-wife, does he feel like he can finally date someone?

Again, it’s too early to think about dating and stuff. You’re just getting your hopes up which you don’t want because for sure in the end, you’ll end up suffering and you don’t want to go through that again.

Falling in love was your greatest fear, alright. You’re fine being a fan, but you didn’t expect to get this close to him, you didn’t expect this to happen to your life. This was a huge happening in your life.

But of course, you’re not going to take advantage of this, you’re not that kind of person. He might think you’re just another woman who’ll take advantage of his status after what Kazui told you before.

If you ever get to the point where you start to develop feelings for him, you will never admit it. You’ll only do your role as Kazui’s babysitter, which would be your final decision.

Part 17

Here's part 16. Thank you for your patience!! I love you all.

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader

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reareaotaku · 2 months

Text

Run Away

Summary: Boris has taken a weird interest in you and you're not sure why Pairings: Yandere! Boris Pavlikovsky x Reader [Slight! Theo Decker x Reader] [Trigger/Content warning/Notes: Summary might be a little inaccurate.] I really enjoyed writing this

Boris liked you, like a lot. You were so different from him- nice, respectful, happy, and you had loving parents. He wanted to be like you so bad, because he craved loving parents. Maybe it was jealousy that caused him to lash out on you, but he hated this feeling.

You could feel his heavy gaze on you, but you ignored it. He was new to the school and the country, so you just assumed he was struggling to adjust. You didn't mean to be judgmental, but a part of you knew he was bad news, and you didn't want to get dragged down with him.

When the teacher's back was turned, you decided to finally turn towards Boris and side-eye him. Unluckily for you, he was also looking at you, so you made direct eye contact with him. It was the kind of eye contact you couldn't break- You were drawn to it like a magnet and your eyes burned from the urge to blink.

You finally looked away when the bell rang and packed up your things.

---

"Who are you looking at?"

Boris doesn't answer Theo. His mind was on Y/n and Theo was on the back burner. Theo realized he was being ignored and followed Boris' line of sight to see you eating with some friends.

"Oh, Y/n? Do you like her?" Theo asks nonchalantly.

"Like her? О, ни на одном языке нет слов, чтобы описать то, что я чувствую.¹" He sighs, leaning on his hand. He was enchanted and it was to late to drag him out.

Theo rolls his eyes before sighing. "You know I don't understand what you're saying..."

Theo's voice bleeds into the background as Boris' continues to watch you. He was hoping you could feel his stare and knew it was him.

---

You sighed, slamming the book shut. You leaned on your hand, before tapping your pen on your desk. You slowly blinked, clicking your tongue. Suddenly, there was a tap at your window. You quickly looked back, before hearing the tapping again. You slowly get up, before heading towards your window.

You slowly pull up the panel before looking out at the dark night. You try looking out, but it was to dark, so you turn around to get a light- Until you hear your name-

"Y/n!"

The voice was vaguely familiar, and you turned back out to your window. "Hello?"

"Y/n! Come down."

Your brows scrunch together as you try and look to see if you can see who's calling to you. "Who the hell is that?"

"It's Decker! Theo Decker!"

You slightly jumped back as you tilted your head, "Theo? Blonde guy with glasses? What are you doing at my house?"

"Just come down- Please."

You sigh, before shutting your window and putting on a robe and house shoes. You slowly open the front door, trying to be quiet as possible as you looked towards where Theo was standing on your walkway.

"What are you doing here? My parents would kill me if they saw a boy-"

"I know- I'm sorry, but I need your help-"

You groan and look back at your house and then up to your room- Your warm, cozy room. "Fine. Whatever."

---

You stand awkwardly in Theo's bedroom as he packs a bag. You look over at Boris, who was already staring at you. You feel a heavy tension, so you look back at Theo.

"You know, Theo, I'm still a little confused why you asked for my help- We're not... well, exactly best friends."

He doesn't look back at you, just closing the zipper, "Your dad's a cop, right?"

You roll your eyes, "So I've heard. He never shuts up about it."

He finally looks back at you, "And you hate your dad, right? You'd enjoy rebelling against him, right?"

"Where are you going with this?"

"I'm running away and I don't want anyone coming for me."

"You're running away. Why?"

Theo groans, before looking over at Boris for help, but he [Boris] didn't see his friends looked. He was too focused on something else; Something much better. Theo rolls his eyes, before looking back at you. "I can't... I can't stay here. It's complicated."

"How complicated can it possibly be? If you want me to help you commit a crime, you better tell me why or at least where you're going- You know, just in case."

"New York-"

"New York? That's all the way across the country! How do you plan on getting there?"

"It doesn't matter," He sighs, "Just know... I'm getting there."

"Why New York, specifically?"

"That's where he's from."

You finally look at Boris, nearly forgetting he was there, "Right... I get that, but like- It's so far away. What is waiting for you there is my real question."

Theo sighs heavily, "You just have to trust me."

"I barely know you and you're asking me to commit a misdemanour contributing to delinquency of a minor. If I was 18, that would be a felony."

"Good thing you're not 18."

You turn towards Boris, giving him a dirty look. He shrugs and you hear Theo groan, yet again.

"You don't have to do anything- I just, want you to... possibly give him inaccurate information," He gives you a pleading look and you sigh.

"Fine..."

Theo smiles, but you hold your hand out.

"BUT-"

A frown starts to grow on his face at a condition being tied to your promise.

"You have to call me when you get there. If you don't call me in at least 3 months, then I'm going to assume something bad happened and tell my dad."

"Fine!" He holds his hands out in surrender, "I'll call you."

"Okay, I won't say anything." You turn towards Boris, "Are you going with him?"

It seemed you weren't the only one wondering about that.

"And miss that face, who'd want that?"

You roll your eyes while shaking your head, "Well, I hope you find whatever you're looking for, Theo."

"Thanks Y/n."

---

"So, why is he really leaving?"

Boris looks towards you before frowning. "To skomplikowane."²

Your brows scrunch together as you stop walking. He notices and stop as well, while looking back at you.

"Why did you stop?"

"What did you say?"

He smirked, before etting out a small laugh. He tilts at you, making direct eye contact, "Nie jesteś dwujęzyczny? Myślałem, że jesteś jednym z tych mądrych Amerykanów. Ci, którzy mówią więcej niż jednym językiem; Nie ten głupi amerykański stereotyp."³

You groan before glaring at the male, which just causes him to laugh again. "I don't know what you're saying. Whatever language you're speaking, I don't understand."

His smile grows as you continue, and you frown when seeing it.

"Oh, you're doing it on purpose. Speak Russian- I understand that."

"No. I like messing with you. Łatwo wpadasz w złość i to jest zabawne."⁴

You sigh, but ultimately decide to drop it and just shake your head. "Whatever." You click your tongue, before looking at the ground, "Are you leaving with him?"

Boris frowns, for the first time, before tilting his head to get into your vision, "No."

---

A loud ringing sounded throughout your house, causing you to groan and cover your head with your pillow. You thought if they really wanted to contact you, they'd call again. The phone suddenly stopped and you sighed in bliss... Until it started to ring again.

You groaned, before getting up and heading downstairs, picking up the phone, "Hello?"

"Y/n."

You were taken a back when hearing Theo's voice. You had nearly forgotten about him, but now it was flooding back to you. "Theo?"

"Yeah," He laughs on the other end, "Yeah, it's me."

"God, I nearly forgot about you. You got to New York?"

"Yeah, I did."

"How is it?"

You can hear him sigh and you imagine he probably closed his eyes as he spoke.

"It's incredible, Y/n. You'd love it. You should come up here some time- Boris, too. Speaking of Boris, have you heard from him?"

You click your tongue, before looking at your couch, where said male was knocked out, "You know... It's funny you mention him."

---

Oh, there are no words in any language to describe what I feel.

It's complicated

Are you not bilingual? I thought you were one of those smart Americans. Those who speak more than one language; Not that stupid American stereotype.

You get angry easily and that's funny.

#boris pavlikovsky #yandere boris pavlikovsky #yandere x reader #boris pavlikovsky x reader #the goldfinch #yandere boris pavlikovsky x reader #yandere the goldfinch #goldfinch x reader #boris x reader #yandere boris #yandere boris x reader #theo decker #theo decker x reader

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arvandus · 7 months

Text

Cared For (Lucifer x F!Reader)

CW: 18+ content, MINORS DNI! If you are a minor or an ageless blog, do NOT follow me! You WILL BE BLOCKED! Nothing too pearl-clutching here; just some soft loving care and some fingering. 💕 Not proofread, I got shit to do today and this got longer than I thought it would, a;sdflajsd;f. I woke up with this in my brain this morning so here ya go, have a treat.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "Let's get you home," Lucifer says quietly.

You nod with a sniff, and he leads you to the car with a protective arm over your shoulder and a glare in his eyes - a warning to any who might try to approach and speak to you.

Your silent as he fastens your seatbelt for you, silent as he closes the door. He keeps your hand in his during the drive home, the constant reassurance of his touch the only thing keeping your tears at bay.

He shares your silence with you, resting in it with you like two people hiding under a blanket unwilling to be seen by anyone but each other. He's silent as he helps you out of the car when you get home, silent as he walks you to your room, silent as he runs your bath for you.

Lucifer helps you undress. Carefully, slowly. There's no lust in his touch; not right now. He knows it's not what you need. For now, you need care, tenderness... to be given to without the expectation of reciprocation, of payment.

You close up within yourself once you sit in the hot water, your knees drawn up to your chest and your head bent down to close off the world. He doesn't question it. You're a flower tucking away its petals at midnight, waiting for the sun. When the warmth is in you again, you'll unfurl, your colors bright.

Lucifer rolls up the sleeves of his red dress shirt, his forearms exposed. He washes your back for you, watches as the soap runs down your back in small rivers, like falling stars. He washes your hair, his long fingers shielding your closed eyes as he runs the water through. He feels the brush of your lashes beneath his touch, watches as a soft, long sigh leaves you, the tension within your body unwinding.

But still you're silent, so is he. He's silent as you stand in the tub, silent as he wraps the soft towel around you. You tuck the corner of it in and step out, the small rivers traveling down your legs. He grabs a second towel and dries them for you, pats the tops of your feet. He glances up at you to see your eyes are finally open now, watching him. He feels as if he's standing on your doorstep, and you've finally answered the door.

Your hand cups his face, your thumb brushes his cheek. He leans his face into it, turns his lips until they brush your palm.

Then he's grabbing another clean towel and draping it over your wet hair. It frames you like a cloak, casting your face in shadow. He cups your face in his hands through the soft cotton and kisses your forehead. The first sundrops of warmth begin to filter through, and you close your eyes to it, relishing in it in the way you'd watch the dawn break through your window.

But still you need more, and Lucifer understands this. He's memorized you; every page, every angle. He takes you to the couch in front of the fire. Strong hands pull you gently into his lap, and you curl against him, cradled. Your head rests into the crook of his neck and you allow the scent of him to soothe you, allow the heat of his body to breathe life into you in the way the firelight never could.

The last strings of tension remain under your skin. They're small, remnants of what they were before Lucifer had brought you home, yet they feel significant, like the smallest splinter stuck in your finger.

If you could ask him for just a little bit more...

His hand his resting on your knees and you stare at it, at the painted fingernails and pale skin. His touch his warm, the veins on the back of his palm visible. You recall the feel of them beneath your fingertips, warm memories from a previous time. You take his hand and slowly slide it up to your thigh.

He doesn't question. He trusts you to know yourself.

He hums softly in acquiescence, his blood-red eyes watching you with soft intensity as his hand trails up the inside of your thigh. Your legs part, but not too much; just enough to allow space for him, to feel the pressure of his hand caught between your legs as he finds your center, your core, the place where your love for him resides, trapped between wet petals that smell sweetly of you.

Your lungs shudder as you inhale, your eagerness for his touch painted in the heat of your flesh.

You cling to him, your arm around his neck as you bury your face deeper into the curve below his ear. You can feel his adam's apple bob against your nose as he swallows, can feel the pressure of his cheek against your head. His grip around your toweled waist tightens, and the hardening of his cock beneath you is unmistakable.

But Lucifer is patient. His time will come later. He knows this is for you.

His fingers caress you, slow and gentle, gathering your slickness as if it were honey to be placed on his tongue. He rubs the pads of his digits over your clit and you spasm with a gasp, your thighs opening the slightest bit more. His grip on you tightens again, holding you steady in his lap as his fingers continue their circular motion two, three more times.

Then he dips them into you again, pushing slightly further. Your hand clings to his forearm, and you feel the muscles and tendons tense and flex beneath your touch as his finger curl within you, slow and generous. He pulls them out to tips and pushes in again, his thumb sliding across your swollen nerves.

Your breaths are transformed into soft pants that are delivered like small gifts against the heat of his neck. You want to kiss him, want to feel him surround your senses so you could lose yourself in him. You lift your head slightly and his own dips in response, his nose brushing against yours.

But Lucifer doesn't kiss you, not yet. He stares you through a lustblown gaze as your sweet mouth pants your desire for him against his slightly parted lips.

Your hips begin to rock in his lap, desperate for more. More pressure, more speed, more him, more more more.

But his arm tightens around your waist, and you force your body to stillness. Only then does he give you what you ask, increasing the pace of his fingers for you, pressing harder with his thumb, curling his long digits against his favorite part of you, the part that makes you his.

It beckons every nerve to him, every cell of your body called forth. The air in your lungs is stolen, the blood in your brain abandoning you to celebrate his touch, leaving you lightheaded with need. Every swipe of his fingers, of his thumb against you and within you ties the knot tighter and tighter, until the fabric of your being is on the verge of tearing.

His name is on your tongue, yet it never leaves your lips, a prayer unable to be spoken as the threads break. You moan against him, and now is the time that he captures your lips with his, his tongue diving into yours to steal your lust-born confessions like a thief in the night. Your hips rock into his hand, your thighs clamp closed as his fingers continue to work you through the riptide of your pleasure. Your lips are unable to keep up with his, your head too dumb with pleasure. They fall slack to release unfettered gasps as moans, and so his mouth moves to your jaw, your neck, teeth scraping and mouth sucking.

Finally, your body quiets, loose and soft, the tension finally gone. Lucifer gently pulls his fingers from you and holds you close to him on top of his lap.

"Feel better?" he whispers against your lips. His voice is deep, soft - like a comfortable bed you'll never be able to escape from.

You nod quietly.

He cups your face with his hand and kisses you once, twice, a slow steady pressure of his soft lips against yours. On the third return, your mouth opens for him and his hungry tongue finds you.

Slowly, you feel yourself being tipped backwards, his hand on your back secure until you feel the weight of your body press against the couch cushions. His body follows inch for inch, his mouth never leaving yours, until he's hovering over you, his knee between your parted legs. The tucked corner of your towel finally gives way, and the cotton falls open. Lucifer halts his heavy kisses to watch his palm run the length of your body.

His hand ends at your thigh, and pulls it over his hip as his hard cock presses against your heat, your slick decorating his pants like a wet kiss. You inhale, and push yourself harder against him as your sensitive hardened nipples brush against his shirt.

"Good," he replies with a grin. "Let's keep going."

#lucifer x reader #lucifer x mc #lucifer x you #lucifer x y/n #obey me lucifer #lucifer obey me #om lucifer #lucifer om #obey me #obey me!

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astroboots · 1 year

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Hello! Why not a lil drabble where the husband thinks the worst every time the love of his life is a bit sick? I think it'd be funny to imagine Steven Grant worrying all the time and Marc Spector + the reader trying to reassure him 😅

Sick as a dog

Summary: You have a cold and Marc nurses you back to health.

ASTROBOOT’S MASTERLIST | MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST

The insides of your throat feels like it's on fire. Your shoulders and back are stiff and your limbs ache.

The quilts lying by your feet is drawn up to your shoulders, and soft fingers come to the your cheeks, gently cupping your face.

"Love, are you sure you're okay? Maybe it's best I take you to the GP?"

Steven is biting his bottom lip with worry. He's been hovering and fretting over you since this morning when you woke up. Insisting on calling in sick to take care of you. (Something that is definitely going to get him in trouble judging from the screeching voice of his boss Donna that you overheard from the phone when he made the call from the other end of the flat).

You shake your head. "It's just a cold. no point. If I go there, they're just going to send me packing back home."

"Can I at least get you something to eat?"

Your stomach roils at the idea. Everything hurts. Your lungs feel like someone doused it in gasoline and lit a match and then left it in a barn filled with hay and in this imagery your body would be the barn. You don't think you can keep anything in your stomach.

You shake your head, burying your face further into the soothing coolness of your pillow as you close your eyes to it. "It's just a cold, just need some sleep," you murmur, and it only takes a handful of seconds before you feel the lightheadness of sleep try to claim you.

There's voices in the room. You think Steven is talking to you. He sounds so worried, and your chest aches when you hear him. But he keeps talking even as you're unable to answer him and you realise he must be talking to Marc. You don't know what he's saying and you're too exhausted to drag yourself from sleep to let him know that it's ok. It's just a cold. He doesn't need to worry, even if it feels like your body is going to burn away into ashes.

You wake to darkness. You don't know how long you must've been out with sleep. Is it already evening? Twisting your sore neck, you peer out over the room. The drapes have been carefully drawn shut, and for the wide window with no drapes, someone's done an impromptu fix, covering it with large bedsheets to block out the afternoon sun.

"How you feeling?"

You blink up at the voice. Brown eyes are staring down at you. Not Steven's big and wide eyes, instead they're narrowed and intense, but no less worried than Steven had been. Marc you realise.

A large hand comes up to your forehead and settles there. He grinds down on his jaw and you can see the tense muscle there flex as Marc's tight expression turn into frown. "Shit, baby you're burning up."

"It's just a cold and a fever," you offer weakly. Too tired to fight him.

His hand comes to your face, thumb smoothing over your cheeks, and it feels so good. It's soothing. Then he pulls away, and you find yourself chasing the doting touch, tilting your face up for him and nearly whine at the loss.

His hand pushes you back down by your shoulders, flat on the bed. "Stay down," he orders.

There's the din of clutter in some far away remote place of the flat, but you're too exhausted to turn your head to look again. Struggling to stay awake when the mattress dips next to you and Marc is there with a cup of water and an arsenal of things lying next to you.

There's two pills in the open palm of his hand, as he pushes the glass into your hand. "Drink," he orders, just as curtly as before. Mother hen to the core, but with none of the soft bedside manners of Steven.

You try to raise yourself in bed, and Marc's hand are quickly there, holding your arm and waist to steady you as you take a gulp. It hurts to swallow.

When you're done, he takes the glass from you, setting it down by the shelf for now, and then his hand comes to the hem of your shirt and starts to pull it upwards.

His fingers skirt over your ribs and it feels so pleasant, your whole back tingles with it until your face is awash with the gentle touch as you stare up at him in confusion.

"You're soaked in sweat," Marc explains, as he tugs it the rest of the way, leaving you naked waist up in front of him. Then he shakes his head, with a small amused smile tugging at his lips. "Get your mind out of the gutter, baby."

You can't help but laugh. How can you not, when Marc is smiling at you like that, eyes crinkling softly.

"Sit up," he instructs, a hand steady the small of your back, and then he brings a wet cloth to the expanse of the bare and sweat drenched skin there and wipes you down.

It feels like heaven. Soothing as the lukewarm wet towel wipes away at the cold sweat there, and you make a small and pleased humming noise.

"Yeah?" Marc asks. "That feel good?"

You don't even have words for him, you just nod, as his touch comes up to your sore neck, with a gentle thoroughness that makes a kaleidoscope of butterflies flutter in your chest.

He comes down to your stomach, and the front of your chest, wringing out the water in a basin until he comes back to massage at the tenseness of your aching thighs. The pain and soreness eases, the achiness melting away at his gentle touch until you unspool at the seam and can't do anything but lie against the mattress in a half-lucid puddle.

The quilt comes up to your shoulders and he tucks it beneath your chin, until you're like a folded burrito. "Get some sleep. I'll make you some soup you can eat when you wake, okay?"

He rises to leave, and your hand flings out to grab at his wrist and he stops abruptly. "Stay," you whine. It's selfish. You're probably going to get him sick. But you feel vulnerable and weak, and all you want is for him to stay here next to you. To feel his reassuring weight pressed next to yours. "Please?"

Marc looks down on you, and even though you must look something horrific. Nose stuffed with snot, eyes crusted and hair a matted and sweaty mess against your forehead, a zone of infectious disease, there's no hesitation as he drops back down on the bed and settles next to you. His arm wraps all around you, hand cupping the back of your head as he tucks your face into the nape of his neck.

"Thank you."

He turns, just enough for his mouth to brush against your clammy and disgustingly sweaty forehead and then he presses a kiss there.

"Get better," he whispers, and as his arms tighten around you, and you can feel his comforting warmth wrapped all around, you want to tell him that with him here, it already is.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications for when I post something new!

#marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight #marvel #marvel mxu #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #oscar isaac #💌 asks

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eksvaized · 3 months

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[ Previous ┃ Next ] [ All In One ] part 2, MDNI

Your back presses against the worn-out fabric of the couch as you sit on the floor. Your legs are pulled in, knees drawn up close to your chest in a protective pose. Your fingers tug at the loose threads of your pants. The tiny movements of your hands betray the tension you feel. With a cautious gaze, you stare at the man in front of you as he sifts through your backpack. You want to say something. The words are poised on the tip of your tongue. But you stay silent, your lips pressed together in a tight line. The stranger tosses your belongings back at you, your backpack landing at your feet, when he doesn't find what he's been searching for.

The moment of tenuous silence shatters like glass. Questions start pouring out, all directed at you. He asks for your name, then he demands to know where you come from and what you are doing here. He also wants to know whether you are alone or with someone. Lastly, as his voice hardens and his eyes narrow, he asks why you attacked him.

At first, you refuse to utter a single word. In your stubborn mind, you convince yourself that you don't owe this stranger any explanations. You think that if he wants to know something, first, he should try to be more amiable rather than acting like some creepy investigator. But as he steps closer to you, his imposing frame casting a looming shadow over your curled body, his dark eyes piercing the very core of your being, you realise you have no choice but to play by his rules.

So, first, you answer the last question he asked.

"I thought you were a biter," you mumble, gathering up the courage to meet his gaze.

A puzzled look washes over his face, his head tilting to the side, as if he's not sure what you mean.

"A biter?"

"A dead man, you know, like the ones who roam around the streets, wanting to eat anyone they cross their paths with," you say, rolling your eyes in slight annoyance. You sigh, realising that if you have to explain every answer to him, this conversation is going to drag on longer than you expected.

You continue to speak. After you are done, apparently, he is satisfied with your responses because he gives you back your knife. You hadn't even noticed that he'd been holding it in his hand all this time.

The stranger is still wearing the skull mask. You wish he would take it off because it makes you feel uneasy, as if he's hiding some secret underneath it. But even if you can't see his face, you can tell he is anxious about something by the way he is pacing around the room, circling the couch you are sitting next to, and fiddling with his gloves as his eyes move from one window to another.

After some time, when he turns around and stops paying attention to you, you stand up. Your legs feel numb, but you grab your backpack, throw it over your shoulders and decide it's your cue to leave. The man doesn't seem to have vile intentions, but you don't know what might be going on inside his mind. As soon as you take the first step, trying not to make much noise, the floors creak and he turns around on his heel. His hand seizes your arm, and he sinks his fingers into your flesh, forcing you to halt.

"I'm coming with you," he says, and you think it's a question. But the stern and unyielding tone of his voice tells you otherwise.

You glance over your shoulder. When your eyes meet with his chest, you lift your chin to look at his covered face. You don't want him to follow you. You don't know this man. From what you can tell, your gut feeling whispers to you that he isn't someone you wish to have in your company.

"N-no," you reply, but your voice stutters as you speak. You try to pull your arm out of his grip, but his hold only tightens, refusing to let you go. His nails are still digging into your flesh, causing sharp jolts of pain to travel up your arm.

"I saved your life," he reminds you, as if that should be enough to change your mind.

You are adamant about sticking to your decision, not wanting to bring any strays back home. Maybe if you had met in a different way, in a situation where his and your first instincts weren't to kill each other, you would allow him to follow you. But now, you promise yourself you won't let him go with you.

"After trying to kill me!" You spit back, trying to shake his fingers off again.

He rolls his dark eyes and scoffs, muttering something under his breath that you can't quite understand. When you take a step back, to your surprise, he lets you go, letting his arm fall back to his side.

"You have no choice. I'm coming with you whether you like it or not," he says, a tired sigh eluding him as he exhales. "I need a place to crash for a day or two, and you need someone to help you get back home, wherever that is."

You realise that arguing with him is pointless. Although you still want to stick to your decision, you think he has a point. It would be good to have someone like him by your side, killing any biters who dare to step in front of you. Of course, he could be a serial killer who you are bringing back to your house. Yet you decide to take your chances and bet that he's not. After all, he had one chance to drive your own knife into your skull and he didn't do it.

You gnaw on your bottom lip, twirling the blade in your hands. He watches you, waiting for your answer, but something tells you that no matter what it is, no matter if you don't agree to take him with you, he will go with you, regardless.

"I don't even know your name."

"Simon."

The journey back to your home consumes the entire daylight hours. Not as a result of the extensive distance that you need to cover, but because of your insatiable curiosity and determination to painstakingly explore each and every quaint little shop that you come across. You rummage through the dusty shelves and the forgotten corners. You even dare to venture into the backrooms of these shops. Your heart pounds like a drum against your ribs as you search for any remaining scraps of food that could have been left behind.

This part of town is uncharted territory for you, a place you've never visited before. Despite the risks that come with exploring new areas, you feel safe with Simon by your side. He's always alert and ready to take down any biters that block the way. He seldom speaks. When he does open his mouth, it's usually to give a command, instructing you to move, hide, and stay out of his way as he fights. While you're still curious about this mysterious stranger, you no longer feel the need for conversation. If he handles all the threats that come your way, you are content with his silence.

A couple of times, you even persuade him to extend your scavenging efforts beyond the confines of the shops and into the eerie silence of abandoned homes. The potential to find extra supplies within these desolate dwellings is too appealing to ignore. But after the deafening noise of forcibly prying open a third door echoes through the empty streets, attracting the unwanted attention of lurking biters, Simon puts his foot down. He insists that you both stop your little explorations and start prioritising your safety.

Like you, he has a distinct preference for the knife as his primary weapon of choice. The conversations between you two are few and far between. Yet, during one of those rare exchanges, he reveals to you the reason behind his reluctance to use a firearm.

"It's quieter… and doesn't attract the attention of peop—the dead," he stammers, his voice trailing off into an uneasy whisper. With a practiced motion, he wipes the blade against his rough, worn-out pants, cleaning off the dark, sticky blood. For a fleeting moment, you think he was about to say 'people'. A part of you aches to ask why he wouldn't want to encounter them. After all, you've always believed that finding other survivors in this desolate world would be a ray of hope, a good thing.

If only you could have found a community, a group of survivors, when all your family was still together, you would have preferred to live among them. The idea of a community with shared responsibility and mutual support was comforting. But you weren't able to find any such sanctuary. And as the days turned into weeks and then months, it became too dangerous to go searching. The risk was too great and the home, as desolate as it was, offered a modicum of safety.

You can't shake off the feeling that Simon is holding something back, biting his tongue. You reckon it would be fair if you asked questions now. After all, it is your turn. Yet, for reasons you can't explain, you swallow all your words and keep your mouth shut.

Caught in a whirlwind of your thoughts, you loiter down the worn-out pavement. Your gaze is fixated on the ground beneath you. You move in a rhythm almost akin to a trance, attempting to sidestep the countless fissures and cracks that blemish the otherwise smooth concrete. Suddenly, an urgent grip on your hand shatters your solitary reverie. Startled, you turn to find Simon pulling you to the side. You shoot him a glare, irritation brewing within you. Upon turning your head to face him, your annoyance quickly dissipates as you notice his attention is directed not at you, but somewhere else. Following the path of his intense gaze, your eyes widen in horror.

Before you can even react, Simon steps in front of you. His protective stance forms a barrier between you and the approaching danger. With measured steps, he edges towards the side of the road where a thick cluster of bushes lies. Clutched in his hand is a knife, its blade glimmers ominously. Despite the palpable tension in the air, his demeanour remains unnervingly calm.

An overwhelming wave of confusion washes over you. It's as if the world has tilted on its axis. But then an all-too-familiar sound reaches your ears. It's a low, guttural growl, accompanied by the soft rustling of leaves. As it echoes through the street, your breath hitches in your throat. The chilling realisation hits you like a freight train barrelling down the tracks at full speed. If you had continued your absent-minded stroll, unaware of the danger lurking just a few steps away, a biter would have sprung from the underbrush. With a snarl, he would have lunged at you, sinking his teeth into the first part of your body he could get his grimy hands on.

Without a moment's hesitation, Simon drives his knife deep into the biter's skull. You realise this is the second time he has saved your life. Your mouth is dry. Your throat feels constricted like a tightly coiled snake, so you remain silent. Gratitude overrides your initial irritation at his insistence on tagging along. You're relieved he came with you—his presence has proven to be more than just comforting.

As Simon withdraws his knife, the immediate danger is diffused. The body falls to the ground at your feet, the biter's lifeless eyes staring at you. You take a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline slowly receding. Simon turns to look at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sternness and concern. Neither of you speaks, yet you're able to understand each other without words.

I'm thinking of creating a tag list for this story. If you'd like to be tagged in the next part, please let me know!

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