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#i can*t figure out how to draw the man
ellemj · 3 months
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Wear That Again: 12 Days of Smut #7
Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot
This fic was inspired by two things:
https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8Ha16Rj/ this Tiktok edit by @the.stark.internship ( @thestarkinternship on Tumblr)
@littlemiss-yeehaw's latest smutty drawing which can be found on her blog, I've stared at it since yesterday and I'm still not over it.
Summary: Bucky ruins your brief holiday romance with a SHIELD agent out of jealousy. You'd think storming in and yelling at the super soldier would've ended in an argument and some slamming doors, but that's not what happens at all.
Warnings: profanity, some objectifying thoughts, possessive!Bucky, jealous!Bucky, thigh riding, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 1.7k
A/N: I don't know how tf it's happening but y'all have me averaging 1.2k notes per day on my blog for the last couple of days and it feels surreal. Also I just want to say, I wrote Bucky out-of-character for this one-shot and this is not how I imagine he'd be at all, but it was fun to write hehe.
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            “You little fucking shit.” You finally snap as the elevator doors are opening to let you out into the common living area of the tower. “Bucky, you are such an asshole.” You’re absolutely livid, and if your words hadn’t showed that then your actions sure would’ve. You’re slamming your hands down on the kitchen island before the elevator doors have even fully closed. Bucky sits on a barstool with a near straight face, completely unaffected by your rage and only briefly looking up at you as he chews through a bite of his Chinese takeout. “You’re the reason he stood me up, aren’t you? What the hell did you do this time?”
            “Wear that outfit again.”
            You’re silent for the longest moment yet, at least fifteen seconds, and Bucky thinks it might be a new record for you. He hasn’t paid attention to a damn thing you’ve said since you walked in, but he sure as hell paid attention to what you chose to wear tonight. You were supposed to be going on your third date with a SHIELD agent who crossed your path a number of times professionally before finally asking you out two weeks ago, and with it being just six days until Christmas, you were dressing for the occasion tonight. You’re wearing a tight black turtleneck sweater that’s tucked neatly into the tiniest holiday-themed miniskirt you could find. It's a sort of festively-colored tight plaid skirt that barely covers a thing, but you didn’t wear it for any reason other than to encourage your date to rip it off of you later. However, Bucky made sure the poor guy wouldn’t even get the chance to see the damn thing.
            “What did you just say to me?” Your voice is shaking but not with fear, no. It’s shaking with the sheer amount of anger that’s currently eating you alive. Bucky lifts his gaze to meet yours as he sets his chopsticks down and picks up his half-empty beer bottle from the countertop. Letting his eyes roam over the entirety of your figure that isn’t obscured by the kitchen island, he boldly repeats himself.
            “Wear that again.”
            “If you like it, I’m burning it.” You say defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest as you glare at the man before you. Bucky lets out a low laugh now, the sound is melodious but his gaze hardens and narrows as he focuses in on your face.
            “If I like it?” All he can think about is pushing you up against a wall, lifting the back of that tiny little piece of fabric you call a skirt, and fucking you until Christmas morning. If he likes it? Hell, he fucking loves it.
            “That’s it, I’m burning it.” You’ve had enough. First, he ruins your short-lived holiday romance. Then, he has the audacity to act like your outfit is doing something for him. As you said before, he’s a little fucking shit. You shoot him one last passing glare as you move around the island and start heading toward the hallway, ready to lock yourself in your room and plot his demise for the rest of the night. But Bucky just can’t let you have the last word, and he sure as hell can’t let you walk away from him looking like something that belongs under the Christmas tree. Or more accurately, something that belongs under him.
            The two of you have done this dance so many times that you aren’t even surprised when you hear his barstool slide away from the island seconds before you feel a firm hand gripping your forearm and yanking you backward. You’re not surprised when suddenly, your front is pushed roughly against the wall of the hallway and his lips graze over the shell of your ear. Frustratingly, you’re not even a little bit surprised when you feel heat rushing through your body and settling between your legs.
            “You’ll wear that outfit again, when I tell you to.” Bucky’s tone is so much less indifferent than it was only a moment ago. It’s so full of lust that it leaves you trembling, awaiting whatever his next move may be. He knows no one else is in the tower tonight, which means if he wanted to, he could take you right here in the hallway and not feel an ounce of guilt over it. Who’s he kidding? He’s done that before even with everyone in the tower, and guilt sure wasn’t the feeling he felt afterward. But he wants you in his room tonight. You and that fucking skirt.
            Bucky takes your silence as obedience and steps away from you, letting you push yourself off of the wall and turn around to face him. If you’re being honest, you’re a little disappointed. That’s all he wants from you tonight?
            “How long has it been since the last time we had sex?” Bucky questions. He knows you remember, probably down to they very hour. He remembers, but he has to make sure you do too.
            “Two weeks.” You haven’t slept with Bucky since the SHIELD agent asked you out. Bucky mulls over the length of time in his mind. He wants to remedy that, he wants to fuck you tonight, but he won’t. You started seeing someone and threw Bucky to the side so easily that him waiting two weeks to ruin your dating life was the nicest possible thing he could’ve done in retaliation. He’s not going to give you what you need now, at least not everything you need.
            Bucky’s silent as he pushes open his bedroom door and waits for you to step inside before him. He’s still silent as he sits on the edge of the bed and beckons you to stand between his legs. He begins raking his hands up the outsides of your thighs, sliding them underneath your skirt until he feels the waistband of your sheer tights. He isn’t so silent when he begins sliding those down your legs, letting out a soft groan when his hands meet your bare skin underneath. It’s been too fucking long since he’s touched you and an unfamiliar peace settles in his soul when he feels your warmth. You’re expecting him to rip the tights off, followed by the skirt and everything else you’re wearing. However, Bucky’s plan involves keeping you nearly fully clothed, and only partially satisfied. Once he has your heels and tights on his bedroom floor, he kneads your ass underneath your skirt, letting his fingertips brush over the fabric of your thong. God, he’s really practicing his restraint tonight. His cock is already hard, threatening to rip the seam of his pants with even the slightest movement, but he isn’t planning on getting his own fix tonight.
            “Sit.” He commands, gripping your hips with both hands and pulling you down to straddle one of his thighs. As soon as your clothed core makes contact with the toned muscle of his thigh, you stiffen and try to shift your weight so you won’t be so stimulated. Bucky makes an annoyed face at you before slipping one hand back underneath your skirt and drawing your panties to the side, causing your wet clit to press against the fabric of his pants. “I’m not rewarding you for spending your time with some other guy for the last two weeks, I’m not having sex with you.”
            You’re about to protest, to tell Bucky that he’s being sensitive, that the two of you never had any rules about dating, but Bucky senses your opposition and begins dragging you back and forth over his thigh. He looks down between the two of you as a wet spot quickly begins forming where your pussy meets his clothed leg. Fuck. It feels too good for you to even consider stopping and telling him that he’s an asshole. So, you go along with his guiding movements, grinding against his leg and finding just the right amount of pressure and friction to start heading toward an orgasm.
            “You didn’t have to scare the guy off.” You mutter as you lean forward, letting your hands rest on Bucky’s shoulder as you place a gentle kiss against the side of his neck. He sighs and tilts his head to the side to give you better access, but his hands continue to guide the movement of your hips.
            “Three dates were enough. I couldn’t stand it anymore.” He admits. You feel an odd sense of pride surge through you at his words, though you have no idea if he’s being honest or not. “I couldn’t let him have you like this.” You suck on the skin just beneath Bucky’s left ear and pick up the pace with which you’re grinding on his thigh.
            “Fuck, James.”
            Bucky knows this isn’t the right time for the conversation, so as you grind out an orgasm on his thigh, letting out the most heavenly moans and whimpers just for him, he tells himself to hold it together until Christmas. That’s when he’ll tell you. That’s when he’ll tell you that he wants more than the angry, hateful late-night rendezvous in his room or yours. He wants more than sitting around waiting for you to come home from a date while he nearly goes insane with jealousy. He wants more of you. Fuck, he wants all of you.
            Just as you’re coming undone on his thigh while moaning his name and squeezing his shoulders, he lets his hands snake underneath your little plaid skirt. He grips your ass with both hands, digging his fingertips into the supple skin there as he leans into your neck. You feel him take a deep breath in as you’re coming down from your orgasm high.
            “Why do you always smell so fucking good?” He asks, licking a small stripe up the side of your neck before pressing his lips against it in a soft kiss. You only hum lightly in response, your brain not quite ready to formulate a full sentence. Bucky presses a second kiss to your neck, and then a third as his works his way up to your lips. His hands move to smooth over the fabric of that little skirt that he can’t seem to get over. “Stay away from the fireplace this week. I can’t have you burning this skirt.”
TAG LIST: @sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @thealloveru2 @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @wishingforwonderland @mrsjoequinn @nixxaswrld @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @fandomsfeminismandme @missadored
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arainbowofchaos · 6 months
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Mentally Physically Weak
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pair: Jungkook x reader
genre : smut with some plot
word count: 3,5k
summary: Jungkook is waiting for you outside your workplace, a cigarette in his mouth, and you can hardly believe your luck. Above all, you're acutely aware of how weak you are for him, and you want to savor this moment as if it were the last.
[A/N]: Yesterday brought a whirlwind of events, and I couldn't resist the urge to pour out my heart for Jungkook.
You've never felt like this before, you're sure of it. That gnawing feeling in your stomach, that palpable excitement coursing through your body, that occasional wave of nausea flooding you because you're experiencing so many emotions at once. And you can't deny that it's invigorating, even if sometimes it feels like you're losing control. Something is exciting about giving yourself completely to him.
You watch Jungkook casually leaning against the wall of the store across from where you work. This is your moment, something you can enjoy before he notices your presence. He smokes, enveloped in a cloud of smoke that he exhales into the night air after putting the cigarette between his lips. The sight makes your stomach turn, as it seems surreal. It's late and darkness covers the sky. You're not sure if you're shivering because the cold of October is setting in or because of the anticipation that this man is waiting for you.
At last, Jungkook sees you, and as you gaze into each other's eyes across the distance, his expression changes, and softens, and a broad smile spreads across his face. His eyes shine with excitement, and you can feel his joy at finding you again. He throws away his cigarette and extinguishes it, as if he had only used it to relieve boredom, before joining you.
A colleague who leaves after you wishes you a good evening, and you wave to him. You see his gaze fix on Jungkook for a moment, and you realize he's confused. It's amazing how readily people judge your personal life. He sees this tall, imposing, black-clad figure with the look of a bad boy waiting for you in the night and thinks, "What is she doing with a guy like that?" He doesn't see that behind the tattoos and piercings are the kindest heart in the world and the most comforting arms you've ever found.
You wait impatiently for the light to turn green, and when it finally does, Jungkook is the first to run across the crosswalk to reach you. He moves gracefully, his dark curls dancing in the wind. As he approaches you, he leans down slightly to meet you at eye level, his hand resting on your cheek, and just like that, he leans forward to place his cool lips on yours. Your body warms just from the contact of his palm with your face, his fingers run tenderly over your skin. The trembling intensifies, and you feel like you could burst into tears at any moment. Why does it feel so incredible to be in his presence, to have him so close?
"Hey baby, you okay? Tough day, huh?" His voice sounds concerned - it cuts through the air like a rocket, and you don't have time to answer his questions before he wraps you in a strong hug. You might as well pass out; you trust him to take care of your lifeless body. The day has been so long, you're exhausted, and you just want him to take care of you. You shake your head as your face is buried in his t-shirt. "My baby is tired, I can feel it. What if I take you home?" This time you nod, relieved that he understands without you having to express yourself.
You and Jungkook didn't speak the same language. You didn't have the same culture or the same kind of profession. He's younger than you are. You met him when you came to Busan for your job. He loves music, photography, and drawing. He's an artist who enjoys life by creating what he loves, and you admire him for it. You're a product of the corporate world you’ve worked in for the last six years, and although you love your job, you're often exhausted by the endless days and relentless pace. When you met Jungkook, you immediately fell in love with this boy for whom life was an adventure while you knew only constraints.
Jungkook takes your hand firmly in his, and your heart beats a little faster at the difference in size; yours is so much smaller that it gets lost in his. He's so much more than you - smarter, funnier, more attractive; he's everything you could dream of in a human being. And you're shocked at the depth of your feelings. It often happens that you imagine a world where he has left you - and you don't know what you'd do, how you could find joy in life after a man made you feel so alive.
Your parents don't appreciate him, even without having met him yet. They've seen photos of him on your social media, and they're disgusted to see you wasting your time with a punk. You reassure them by explaining that Jungkook is a good person and that his appearance is due to his creative side, but they view your relationship with disapproval. From their perspective, they're mainly concerned that you've found an anchor besides your work, which implies that you have no intention of returning to your homeland. They are selfish; they want to see their daughter come back.
As you walk hand in hand with Jungkook through the dimly lit streets of the approaching autumn, his thumb gently caresses your wrist simply because he can't resist, and you continue to melt under his touch. You observe Jungkook as he gazes up at the sky, smiling. You dream of being able to live in his imagination; you're certain it's a beautiful place where the two of you could be happy together without any obstacles getting in the way.
"You're very uh… quiet tonight, do you want to talk?" Jungkook's accent is something that melts your heart - the way he searches for his words for you, the efforts he puts in to get better to understand you even more. It's his way of showing you that he's there for you, that you can confide in him at any moment. He can’t give you grand speeches about anything; he just wants you to be able to relax in his presence. You feel like you should talk if only to reassure him.
"Sorry... I'm a bit overwhelmed right now," you manage to articulate, then add, with a big smile and starry eyes, as you do every time you look at him, "Thank you for coming to pick me up; I can't imagine a better way to end my day." Your voice is almost shy. You could laugh at yourself for it; you've never been the shy type, but this man has a hold on you.
"Aww, it's nothing. I just wanted to see you," he responds, singing it out, "The day isn't over yet, want to eat something?" he asks with a strong sense of enthusiasm.
"I'm really craving Indian food, what do you think?" you suggest, and he eagerly agrees before scooping you into his arms and shouting, "Yayy, cheese naan!!!" Passersby look at you with surprise; some are taken aback by the sudden burst of excitement, while others offer kind smiles. And you, you continue to melt, slowly, in his arms, losing yourself in his embrace and his intoxicating scent that leaves your head spinning… You can't help but be constantly charmed by his unwavering enthusiasm. He's up for any plan as long as it means you're together, and especially if he can fill his belly at the same time...
Half an hour later, you find yourself seated on the terrace of your favorite Indian restaurant. It's not overly upscale, and you've always had a mild uncertainty about its hygiene standards. However, the food is undeniably delicious, and you've never experienced any health issues, so that's what truly matters. As the meal arrives, Jungkook eagerly devours his dish, and you barely eat yours. Ever since you met him, you've struggled with eating as if your body no longer requires sustenance beyond his presence.
Jungkook playfully dips his naan into your palak paneer, and you feign outrage while he chuckles at his joke. His eyes light up so much that you can hardly see them, his dimples etched into his handsome face, and his smile is on full display. Your heart races when you witness his happiness, you can't help it. You lean in slightly from your chair to surprise him with a kiss, causing him to stop laughing. He reciprocates with a more serious, urgent kiss that leaves you slightly off balance. He gently bites your lip, signaling his intentions, and you can't help but release a soft moan in response.
"Let's finish up and head home, huh?" His mischievous look speaks volumes about his eagerness to return. You blush because you know exactly what he means, and you signal the waiter to request a takeout box for the remainder of your dish. You're no longer hungry for food, only for his touch. 
It turns out that when Jungkook talks about home, he could just as easily be referring to your apartment or his - as long as it's just the two of you, it's your home. Since the Indian restaurant is closer to your place, you naturally head there after your meal. Upon entering your building, Jungkook nestles against your back, his hands gently encircling your hips, and his face finds solace in the curve of your neck as he plants tender kisses. You shiver, feeling your heart race in your chest. Even though you've been dating for months, you're still not entirely accustomed to this sensation; every time feels like the first.
You swiftly ascend the stairs, and with fervor, you open the door to your apartment, a tangible passion building up for the man still standing close behind you, ready to engulf you with affection.
"I want a dessert," Jungkook whispers against your lips with a quivering voice as you both find yourselves out of sight in the privacy of your living room. It becomes clear just how much your presence affects him.
"Go ahead and treat yourself," you innocently reply, pretending not to catch on to his intentions.
"Ah, that's what I had in mind," he retorts with a mischievous grin. At his words you feel Jungkook's hands move down to your ass and grip it, you moan softly as you can feel your body going weak in his hands.
Every time, it's the same old story – you feel like a toy in his skilled hands. Your legs can barely carry you to your room, so he lifts you, and you cling to him like a koala. In a hushed tone, you whisper that you love him. You told him after just a week, so you no longer have any reason to be ashamed of anything. The moment you laid eyes on him, you knew you were done for. Jungkook has always responded positively to your declarations, and even now, he's quick to reassure you with an "I love you too." But deep down, you understand that he may never experience emotions as intense and all-consuming as yours. The truth is, he could ask you for anything, and you would do it without a second thought. You'll never admit it to anyone, but the way he looks at you keeps you alive. When you don't see him for a few days, you can feel how your enthusiasm for life is waning. The only way to lift your spirits is to think of him and his beautiful, goofy smile.
He gently places you on the bed and then lies on top of you, cradling your head in his hands. With intense sincerity, he whispers, "You're so beautiful," and you plead with eyes that are practically begging, "Jungkook, please kiss me." His face descends to yours, and his lips find yours effortlessly. He kisses you passionately as if it were the last time and your heart races. You desire him like you've never desired anyone before. Hearing his voice and feeling his touch never grows old. Between kisses, you continue to implore, tears glistening in your eyes in the dim light, "Please, don't ever leave me." 
You might come across as foolish, but that doesn't matter. When you become emotional, all you need is reassurance. It's your yearning for something absolute in a foreign land with a man who's not from your world. You want a forever happy ending, even though you know it's not possible, despite the promises of fidelity. In your case, you want him to be as free as he desires. It holds no value if he stays with you out of pity or because you ask him to. You'd like him to be just as consumed by his desire to be with you. And tonight, it seems to be the case, and that's enough for you.
“I’ll never leave you, baby,” he promises solemnly. You don’t want to think about the value of his promise as he undoes the buttons of your blouse to let your chest meet the cool air of the room and goosebumps appear on your skin. "You are cold." he observes “I’m going to make you hot.” and he smiles innocently, you think, he shouldn't have the right to be so angelic when he has just undone your bra with one hand behind your back without you even realizing it. Jungkook gets rid of your clothes that hinder his path to your breasts. He envelops your nipple in his mouth and does not neglect the other by enveloping it in his hand. Everything is hot and your head falls back on the bed as moans escape your lips. You feel the excitement spreading between your legs and you know that tonight again, it won't take you long to meet the stars. 
You feel his tongue move expertly and like every time you continue to beg him for more “Jungkook, please, I want to feel you.” your hands are lost in his soft, raven-black hair and he lifts his head, your breast still in his mouth as he smiles, the same mischievous smile from earlier “And my dessert?” he asks, laughing. He knows the effect he has on you since he stops playing with you for a moment to come back to your face and place a kiss on the tip of your nose. “I’ll have my dessert and then you can feel me, okay baby?”
You nod eagerly because you know what he means. He stands up and unzips your skirt to remove it completely, leaving you in just your panties, lying vulnerable under his gaze. "You are beautiful," he repeats to make sure you heard correctly. Jungkook kneels on the ground in front of you, and his arms grab behind your thighs to drag you to him. You let out a cry of surprise at the force of his gesture, and he laughs tenderly at your reaction. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he says as if it were normal while you can barely breathe at the idea that he was even thinking about you. “I see you’re wet,” he says and you know he's praising you “Can I taste you?” he asks for permission, and you respond by removing your underwear for him, leaving your complete nudity in view. Jungkook licks his lips, playing with his piercing in the process, looking into your eyes, then his gaze returning between your legs “Gosh, so pretty.” and he fucking smiles.
You close your eyes when his face disappears between your legs and you feel his tongue playing with your clit, getting straight to the point. You can’t stop the moans that escape your throat, and soon you can’t think at all. His hands caress your hips while his mouth devours your most intimate area and you can do nothing but feel all the good he does to you. You need him; feeling him so close to you is never enough. “Jungkook… more please.” you plead and he pauses, lifting his head to look you in the eyes, his lips and chin covered in your juices “I like it when you… uh… when you beg me? That's right?" and you can't believe this is the time he chose for an English lesson. You nod and rephrase “I’m begging you Jungkook, please give me more.” 
He laughs softly, proud to see you so needy for him and to improve his vocabulary in bed. His hand replaces where his face was a few seconds before, and his finger comes to caress your clit, before moving lower between your folds, a moment later and you feel two fingers inside you. You gasp, your breath hitching as he pushes his fingers inside you in a back-and-forth motion that makes you salivate. You've lost all logic and ability to think as you take what he gives you with incoherent moanings. 
“I want you,” he says suddenly, sensing that you are ready for him. You come out of your trance to open your eyes and see that he is looking at you with a much darker gaze than before. That's where he finally gives you the show you've been waiting for, getting up to take off his black t-shirt, and leaving his bulging muscles and sleeve of tattoos in view for you to admire. He also takes off his cargo pants, his massive erection not very well hidden under his underwear “Do you like the view?” he asks with a smirk and you blush, unable to respond to his comment. He gets rid of his boxer and your eyes roll behind your eyelids at the sight of his length standing proudly in front of you. You feel weak for him—mentally and physically. You're acutely aware of what lies ahead, and every fiber of your being quivers with eager anticipation. Jungkook enters you effortlessly, as you are always ready for him, no matter the moment. 
Often, nothing seems to make sense, but in moments like this, when he makes love to you and you can see the most profound adoration in his eyes, you feel genuinely ecstatic to be alive. You can hear his adorable grunt every time you clench around him, adding sensation, and it sends shivers down your spine. He exudes an irresistible charm effortlessly. You only feel complete in his presence, and you thank the universe for putting this luminous being on your path. Jungkook kisses you again, going back and forth, and you can barely respond to his kiss because of how full you feel. You moan nonsense and he speaks things that you can barely make out. Your tongues duel and it's dirty and messy and perfect. You tremble from head to toe, lost in his embrace.
He pulls out of you and orders you to turn around, which you do immediately. You lie down on your stomach and feel him position himself behind you, his cock at your entrance before coming back inside you deeply, a new angle allowing you to feel him even better. You scream, tears streaming down your cheeks as your head rests on the cool mattress. Jungkook continues to increase his pace, letting you chase your orgasm, the sweet melody of skin on skin echoes through the room before he seductively asks you, “Please cum for me, baby.” Tears of pleasure continue to stream as he taps against your sensitive and delicious spot, and you finally end up seeing the stars while shouting his name. “Jungkook” you exhale, delirious, as he continues a few more thrusts before cumming inside you as well.
When you come back to reality, he's lying on top of you - careful not to put his full weight on you either - he's reciting praises to you in Korean and your heart aches at the thought of him being comfortable enough to let go in his native language. He places kisses on your shoulder before pulling out. You feel him moving behind before he comes back to gently clean up the mess he made. After that, he lies down next to you, drawing you close into his embrace once more. The two of you remain there, locked in a tender hug, for a few precious minutes. And then, he utters those words that resonate deep within your heart, "I will never leave you." A warm, contented smile graces your face as you bury it into his sweaty, bare chest, finding solace and security in his unwavering promise.
What remains etched in your memory is the fact that you have this one more night with him, and in this fleeting moment, that's all that truly matters. The ability to revel in these stolen moments of intimacy with him fills you with profound gratitude. Wrapped in his loving embrace, the world beyond fades into insignificance – the desperate glances of your colleagues, the reproachful words of your parents – all become distant echoes.
Regardless of what anyone else thinks or what the uncertain future may hold, you banish those concerns from your mind. In this singular instant, you crave nothing more than to bask in the comforting cocoon of his embrace, to savor the warmth of his presence for one more night.
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burntchez · 3 months
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(Possessive! Wriothesley x Male! Reader Smut)
Note: This is basically the 2nd part for my Possessive! Wriothesley x Reader fic I posted on Youtube but this time the 2nd part is for male readers! My apologies I couldn't make a female reader version or at least Gender Neutral. I'm (kind of) experienced in writing Male Reader content bc I'm a male myself.
(This contains: Smut (duh), Breeding, spanking, cuffs)
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"Are we really doing it here..?" Asked the smaller male. The Duke's lips curled into a mischiveous smirk, his hands travelling the body of the man below him. Arms beneath the uniform, lips close to the delectable neck. "Why not here? This is my office, and I see no problem of doing such... Thing here. Besides, I know you've been wanting this." Wriothesley whispered to the boy beneath him, enjoying the sight of him being vulnerable. You couldn't respond due to the intimate sensation crawling up his sensitive skin, his mouth only letting out whines and whimpers. By now, he was impatient. He wanted to show you how bad he misses you. He wanted to mark you as his.
Screams and moans filled the room as the two of you carried onto your session. Sounds of skin slapping synchronized with the moans you let out. "If you don't want your voice to be heard from outside, then I suggest you bear with this and stay quiet while I..." He pauses and thrusts. "Enjoy this." Wriothesley whispered to him with a husky voice. "Besides, I know you also enjoy this. I know you've wanted this." He commented between pants. "Y-you wanted this! It was not my idea to be fucked!" You scolded. The Warden can only let out a low chuckle as he heard your words, "Oh yeah.". Suddenly, a hand came striking down to your ass, making a loud slap on contact and leaving red print of his hand. A loud moan escaped your lips, followed by whimpers. Wriothesley can only sadistically watch you be lost in painful pleasure with a cruel smile as he continued thrusting into you. His whole length buried to the hilt as he unsheathed and thrusted himself in. "You look so good when you're beneath me. Wrists cuffed, lying on my desk, legs spread, perfect for me. Not to mention your hole taking me in!" He growled, eyes gazing to the sweating skin of your body. Admiring how powerless you are beneath him. "Fuck, I want to see you completely ravaged, now." Wriothesley let his desires take over and increase his pace, his thrusts violating your ass like hammer striking an anvil. His hand gripped tightly on your wrists while the other played with your sensitive nipples, flicking and toying on the nubs. His eyes observed you, how your eyes rolled back and try to lower your cute sounds, how your ass takes him in easily, and your little cock that was left twitching and sobbing precum. It all fuel his desire for you, to own you, to make you his own man. "I don't care if the others knows about this. I need to mark this body of yours with my cum!" Wriothesley growled with a husky voice before attacking your neck, drawing another cute cry from your lips. You felt his teeth biting onto your neck and shoulder while also giving it kisses. Wriothesley's thrusts accelerated, plunging deeper into your wet hole, trying to milk his cock into filling you up with his warm cum.
"O-oh fuck! T-too fast!~ I-i'm gonna-" "Cum?" Wriothesley finished your sentence as he withdrew from your marked neck. He towered over your messy figure, proud of what he made of you. "Hold it in for a few more seconds boy, I'm close too." After his command, he increased the pace of his thrusts. His cock plunging into you at a restless place, eliciting a long messy moan from you. The way your head drew back and how your body responds to his thrusts, it all fueled him, he needed to make you his. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum. Take it all boy! I'll make you never forget who owns you and this ass!" With one fatal thrust, his cock thrusted into your insides and unleashed a massive load of cum that he saved up for your return. His climax hit him like a tidal wave, just like yours. Your cock spurted out white ropes of cum and came all over Wriothesley's abs and on your stomach.
As you two took gasps and breath after a rough sex, Wriothesley gave you a kiss on the lips, affectionate and desiring. After a few seconds of intimate kissing, you decided to break it and take another breather. Wriothesley watched your exhausted state with a satisfied smirk and embraced you with his cock still inside you, ensuring that no cum seeps out and preserving his mark inside you.
"How is that for a 'welcome back'?"
"I've been gone for 2 weeks!"
"I know, but I still miss you~"
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thatanimeramenchick · 1 month
Text
Yandere Vox x Secretary Reader Part One
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No one asked for this, but whatever. Bite me. I’ll get to the asks, I swear
3,516 words
Part Two - Part Three
–-
The last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself. In a place like hell, where the worst of society sunk together and only somehow seemed to get worse, it was a good idea to not catch other people’s eyes. If their eyes were on you, it was almost never for a good reason.
So when you decided to start working, it made sense you would do something quiet and in the background like data filing for a large media company. While there were many more unsavory jobs that paid more, you wanted to avoid the obvious and dangerous crime life of hell as much as possible in your daily life. You had had enough of being unwillingly tied up in that kind of stuff when you were alive. You might as well spend your eternity in some type of peace, or at least as much as someone in hell can get.
So, you made sure you were presentable as you walked into Voxtekk on your first day to work, dressed simple business attire and keeping a quiet demeanor.
“There you are!” said who you presumed was your new boss, a short man with glasses and a blue hair dye, “Was wondering if you were going to show up!”
“Sorry,” you said, “The traffic was bad.”
“Well, you better get used to leaving early,” he said, “Traffic is always a bitch in this part of Pentagram City.”
He continued to speak as he led you to the elevator.
“So, I’ve been told you have a lot of experience with this sort of thing on earth,” he said.
“Yes, I did library work while I was alive,” you said.
And some smuggling. Especially with weapons.
You didn’t think it would be necessary to tell him that though. The job had come in handy though by giving you a knack for remembering where things were.
“Good, good,” he said, “I expect you’ll be able to figure out how to do this on your own then.”
He led you to a room that was filled with file drawers as well as a large computer off to the side.
“There’s thousands, if not millions, of files in here, both physically and digitally. It’ll be your responsibility to make sure that everything new brought in gets put in its proper place, as well as that anything that is requested can be easily found,” he said, “As the biggest media company in hell, it’s important that we know at all times where every piece of information or media can be located.”
It was overwhelming, like the world’s largest and most complicated library. It made your head spin a little looking at it all, but you always liked a challenge.
“You think you can handle it?” he asked.
You nod with some confidence, though you don’t quite feel it. This was going to take some getting used to.
“I hope for both our sakes you’re right,” he said, “Last filer I hired couldn’t tell left from right and Vox fried me to a crisp. Took me a good week before I was able to regenerate properly.”
Crap, that sounded bad. Note to self, don’t let that happen to you.
“I think I’ll be all right,” you said.
---
It was a bit overwhelming the first few weeks. You were competent enough to keep things in order though. Your experience was paying off, and you weren’t hearing any complaints or news about any assistants getting fried, so you supposed you were doing your job well enough.
Within two months of starting your job, you finally met the rumored big man himself. He had come in one day, visibly in a bad mood as he walked over to your desk, a man trailing behind him.
“I don’t know why I even pay you morons,” he said, “I have to hear important information secondhand from fucking Valentino because you can’t be bothered to keep up with what’s happening in hell.”
“Look, sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to not tell you,” he said, “I just didn’t think you’d care.”
Vox had stormed over to your desk.
“So you KNEW and thought it would be a good idea to just not tell me at all?” he said.
“T-that’s not it! I just-”
Vox held up a hand to interrupt him before turning to you.
“I want the file we have in here on Alastor,” he said, a static buzz of irritation on the last word, “Now.”
“Of course, sir,” you said.
You hurried over to the file cabinet and quickly located it.
“See, not everyone around here is as useless as you are,” Vox said to his other employee.
You saw the hapless employee mutter something under his breath out of the corner of your eye, and before you knew it a chain had appeared and Vox yanked him closer.
“What was that?” he said
“N-nothing, sir!” said the now visibly sweating employee.
A shock went through the poor guy before Vox released him.
“Useless,” he said, “You know what? I think you need some time learning exactly who is in charge around here.”
Vox pointed a clawed finger at you.
“You,” he said, “It’s your lucky day, kid. You wanna promotion?”
“Um… yes?” you said.
“Great. Samuel, have fun in janitorial work for the next decade,” he said, “You’re being replaced. What’s your name?”
“F/N,” you said.
“Hope you have customer service experience as well as filing,” he said, “You’re moving up to my office. Need someone with a functioning brain to run the front desk. Pack up!”
You hesitated for a minute before grabbing the stuff under your desk. You figured the last thing you wanted to do was piss this guy off more than he already looked.
---
Despite him being in such a bad mood that first day, you soon found that most of the time Vox was relatively calm, at least compared to what you heard about the other employers in this building. While he at times could get pretty irritated with things, especially if a certain never-to-be-named demon was brought up by an idiot intern, he rarely took it out on you. He usually took the daily bothers of running the company in stride.
Besides that, running a front desk of an office wasn’t too different than running the front desk at the library. You didn’t have to do near as much organizing in terms of files, but you still did spend a lot of time making sure that everything in Vox’s life was organized from his meetings to when he had lunch.
He didn’t talk much with you outside of work related stuff, which is why you were so surprised when you found out what he was doing one day.
It was a nice enough morning, at least as much as a nice morning can be in hell. You took a sip of your coffee briefly as you stretched and looked out your office window. While you missed the blue sky of earth, the red sky of hell had its own sort of charm you supposed. You glanced down, looking at the people walking back and forth, small as ants. Running around willy nilly. Someone was moving into the building that afternoon, a common occurrence here, as you had heard talk that Valentino liked to keep his employees in close quarters. Seems like they had a similar taste in furniture to your own. Almost frighteningly so.
Except… wait. Was that your sofa? And your dresser? Your bookshelves? You lowered your coffee to the windowsill as you squinted down at your entire catalog of furniture being moved into the building. Something wasn’t right.
You knocked on your boss’s door and entered in a bit of a rush as you heard him say to come in.
“Vox, what on earth is going on?” you asked, trying not to sound panicked.
“F/N, that could be ten different things. I need you to be more specific,” he asked, his tone nonchalant as he didn’t even look up from his phone.
“I just saw what I’m pretty sure was all my belongings being moved into the building,” you said.
“Oh yes, that. Well, I had wanted to surprise you, but I guess it’s too late for that,” he said, somewhat absently, “I hate that you have to take such a long commute to the other side of town. And I know all the apartments there are so run down, I figured I’d just move you into the studio like a lot of our other valued staff.”
What? While it was true your apartment was kind of rinky dinky, it was yours. And you liked the privacy and soft solitude it offered after work. Besides, you didn’t like the idea of your boss just moving you willy nilly without your permission. Still, you didn’t want to show him you were upset.
“Vox, you don’t have to do this,” you said, “I’m ok with where I’m at. I don’t want to trouble you.”
“It’s no trouble at all. Think of it as a courtesy as my secretary,” he said.
You could feel your entire face tighten as you got more frustrated. Some of it was probably starting to show, despite your best efforts.
“I never asked for this though,” you said, trying to tread carefully, “and I like my old apartment. I… I don’t really want this...”
“But you do want this,” he said, finally looking up at you, “You want to be in a nicer apartment, closer to work, safer, don’t you? You always want to be here.”
That… You supposed that was true. Something about his tone soothed you, sent a pleasant lull through your skull and made your body relax as he looked in your eyes. Your protests now seemed a bit foolish and childish. In all honesty, you supposed it just made sense that you move in to the studio. Everything you needed was here, truly, why would you want to live away from here? You did want a nicer apartment without the stressful commute.
“O-ok,” you said, a small uncomfortable feeling of doubt still in your stomach, “Yeah. That’s true. I do want to be here more… closer to the office...”
He smiled at that and walked over to you. He placed an arm around you, guiding you back to your own office.
“Of course you do! And besides I already had them move everything here, so why don’t you just go back to work, and they’ll have finished moving everything in by the time your shift is done,” Vox said, “I guarantee once you’ve had time to think it through you’ll be glad we did it.”
“If you say so,” you said.
As he walked you back to your desk, he continued his calming chatter.
“That’s a good girl. You and I both have a lot of work today, anyway, so I think we can agree that you should just focus on that for now,” he said as he nudged over to your desk.
You sat down and turned to the planner on your desk as you heard your boss walk into his personal office and closed the door. You just stare blankly for a good minute, feeling a little light, like you were on Zoloft before shaking your head back and forth. Might as well just go back to work. You could think more about this later.
---
It had been happening so slowly. One day, week, month at a time, Vox was implementing himself into your life inch by inch, despite the fact that the two of you weren’t bound on paper. He had moved you into the building, where you knew that you were almost constantly on camera. He kept you so loaded down with work you barely had a social life anymore, with no time to hang out with friends or date. The pay was ok, you supposed, but it felt minuscule compared to the amount of work he was expecting you to do on a daily basis.
And then there was the… weirder things that had been happening. Whenever you tried to talk to him, he had a way of getting you to forget about whatever it was you were upset about, at least for a little while. But it would always come back eventually, and as you thought about it more, it irritating you that he was dismissing your concerns.
You hadn’t really noticed it until he had gone on vacation for a week with the other Vees. You had been quite busy with work, but without him there to calm you down whenever your “concerns” came up, you realized that maybe you had let your priorities get a little askew. You needed a career change.
So, perhaps against your better judgment, a few days after he had returned, you had left a two weeks notice on his desk before he came in. It only took about fifteen minutes after he came in for him to summon you to his office.
“F/N? What is this?” he asked, holding out the letter.
“It’s my resignation,” you said, trying to sound steady and confident.
“I’m sorry… your what?” he said
“I-I regret to inform you that I will be moving out and relocating to the Doomsday Sector in two weeks,” you said, “I appreciate all that you’ve done here for me as I worked here, but I am making a career change.”
He looked baffled for a second, like he couldn’t believe what you were saying before chuckling a little.
“No, you’re not,” he said, “You don’t want to leave he-”
“Stop!” you yelled out with more force than you intended.
As soon as he had started speaking that familiar fuzzy feeling had entered your mind, and you had closed your eyes, shaking your head. You didn’t want him talking you out of this.
“I-I’m sorry,” you said, as you reopened your eyes, but didn’t really look at him, “But I don’t want to talk about this.”
It was awkwardly silent for a minute.
“Is it a pay thing?” he finally asked, “Because that can be adjusted. You do good work. I certainly wouldn’t mind paying you more.”
“It’s not a pay thing,” you said, “It’s not anything. I-I don’t want to talk about this, so I’m going to go-”
“You’re not leaving!” he said, slamming his fist on his desk.
You jumped, a little surprised at his reaction. While you knew he wouldn’t be thrilled, you hadn’t expected him to be so volatile. He was always so calm and collected that this kind of reaction to something so minuscule confused you.
“Vox, I know you like my work, but I think you’re overreacting a little bit,” you said.
“Overreacting?” he said, looking pissed, “Overreacting?!”
He grasped at the air, a look of surprise entering his face when no chain appeared. You look at him bewildered. Had he really just tried to…?
“Vox, we don’t have a contract?” you said, “Did you forget that?”
Had he really gotten so comfy with you that he thought that you were another one of his little pets? To hell with the two week notice, you were going today.
“I think I should go back to work,” you said.
He didn’t say anything as you went back to your desk. You finished filing information extra fast that day, doing a bit of a sloppy job. As soon as it was noon, you left for what appeared to be a lunch break, but you had decided was actually going to be your escape.
This situation was getting uncomfortable. You hurried to your room and haphazardly threw clothes and necessities into your suitcase. Anything you left behind on accident you would just have to replace. On a final note, you shoved your wallet into your back pocket and walked over to the door.
Except it didn’t open. The nob didn’t even turn when you yanked on it. You tried it a few times, to no avail.
“Dammit,” you murmured under your breath, and you pounded your fist on the door.
You were about ready to start kicking it when you heard a burst of static behind you. You turned to see your boss coming in through the camera system. While it had always been an eerie feature to your arrangements, it was a million more times so to see Vox using it to his full advantage.
“What the hell is going on?” you asked.
“I should be the one asking that,” he said, “Just where do you think you’re going?”
“None of your damn business!” you said, “I don’t know what security you have on this door, but you better take it off now or-”
“Or?” he asked.
Now it was your turn to look tense as he gave you a self-satisfied smirk. You could feel your face flushing in a quiet rage as he spoke. Though you were hiding them behind your back, you could feel your fists clenching, as well as the shape of you mouth hardening.
“Vox, you are being ridiculous! We don’t even have a contract! I’m not bound to you, so you can’t keep me here,” you said.
He cocked his head at you, raising an eyebrow, “Oh really now?”
Something about the nonchalance in his tone only pissed you off more.
“Yes, really!” you yelled, “I’m not staying here. I’m leaving whether you want me to or not.”
“And just how do you expect to do that?” asked Vox, “Jump out the window? I mean you could splatter yourself on the ground, but it’d be a bit rude considering I’ll have to send some unlucky interns to scrape you off the pavement and put you back in your room until you regenerate.”
You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in and clenching and unclenching your hands with an unnecessary amount of force. You tried to calm your voice down.
“Vox, I understand that you like the work I do for you, but you’re being ridiculous,” you said.
“You think this about work?” he said, “F/N, don’t act stupid. I can get a new secretary anytime I want, ten secretaries. You and I both know that’s not what this is about.”
You looked at him confused. It wasn’t?
“For someone who is so smart with data, you are being so unbelievably slow right now.”
He advanced on you, causing you to shrink against the frame of the door as he leaned over you. He pushed you against the wall and gripped your chin in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eye. It all happened in a flash, too fast to register, and before you could realize it, he was pulling you into a rough kiss.
It wasn’t what you had expected, though it wasn’t as if you had thought a lot about what kissing your boss would feel like. On the rare occasions when you had wondered about it, you had assumed kissing Vox would be like kissing the screen of a laptop. Apparently though, he had a literal working mouth as you could clearly tell from the sensation of his tongue and even teeth connecting with your own. Your chin ached in his firm grip, which could have been more tender if it didn’t feel like he was keeping you from turning your face away. You tried to do so, but he didn’t even seem to notice it, he was so preoccupied.
He held you like this for a good two or three minutes, his saliva coating your mouth. Though it was barely there, you could feel a slight buzz to it, as if some of his electricity was in his fluids. He finally released you though, some of his spit getting on your lips as he removed himself. A sigh filled the air as your lips parted.
“Even better than I thought it would be,” he murmured
He shifted a bit and was leaning in for another kiss when you kicked him in the shins.
“Ow!” he said, releasing you and giving you time to dart away.
You had moved in a burst to the other side of the room, glaring at him with what you hoped was resentment. There was also something else though. A feeling of deep rooted anxiety and fear was stirring in full force, despite the fact that over the past few months you had been pushing it down as much as possible. You hoped he couldn’t see the weakness in you.
Whether he did or not though, you could tell he was visibly pissed for a minute. He finally got his features under control, but as he spoke his tone held all of the avarice that had left his face.
“Whatever,” he said, “Contract or not, you’re still mine, and you’re not going anywhere until you accept that. Throw a tantrum if you want to, but you’re stuck here.”
You watched as he went back into the camera system as easily as he had come. You curled up on the floor, burying your face in your arms.
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ponderingmoonlight · 6 months
Text
JJK men sharing a bed with (y/n) part lll
In case you haven't read the other parts yet, here they are: JJK men sharing a bed with (y/n) part l Satoru Gojo sharing a bed with (y/n) at a love hotel (part ll)
This is the first time ever that I'm writing for Yu and Choso, so please let me know what you think<3
Pairing: Toji x reader; Geto x reader; Yu Haibara x reader; Choso x reader
Word Count: 3,7k
Warnings: Some language, a loooot of fluff in every part!
Toji Fushiguro
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You blink against your heavy lids, head pounding the second you are greeted the dim light of the room. Immediately, your body starts shivering from the cold that prevails wherever you are. What happened? How did you end up here? It looks like you’re in a basement, a stony and dirty one. Your trembling figure lays on top of a bed as it seems, feet chained to the frame. Fuck, how did you end up here?
“Oh, look who’s awake. Did take you quite some time, sweetheart.”
His voice sounds distant and unpromising, the cheeky tone vibrating in it sending shivers down your spine immediately
“Where am I?”, you question with surprisingly firm voice.
“Hm, to be honest I’m not sure. Are you comfy or do you need company?”
He steps into your sight and your breath hitches for a split second. Yes, the man standing in front of you is extremely handsome, with shoulders built like cannonballs and his tight shirt that shows every trained muscle of his body. And that face…oh, what a lovely face. But the darkness that radiates from his eyes makes your stomach drop. This man means nothing but trouble.
“Touch me once with your filthy hands and I’ll slice it off”, you hiss through gritted teeth.
Desperately, your worn out body fights against the chains on your ankles as his frame draws closer, but there’s absolutely no chance for you to escape.
“I wonder how long it will take Jujutsu High to get that you’re gone”, he comments, hand gripping your chin firmly so you are forced to stare into his cold eyes.
“Huh, you’re quite handsome. No wonder that Gojo boy likes to spend time with you. You’re quite feisty though.”
You forcefully pull away from him and stare down at your shivering figure. They will find you, right? They just have to…
“Comfy, huh? I’m actually a little worn out myself, would you mind to scoot over a bit?”
“Stay. Away. From. Me.”
Your words are like venom, eyes so dangerously flashing at him that Toji escapes a chuckle.
“Your cold, bet I can warm you up a little.”
He doesn’t give a fuck about your little protest. Instead, he pushes you against the wall and lays besides you, body’s forced to touch inside the small bed.
You can’t help it. Before you get a grip of yourself, your cheeks turn dark red while you gaze at him through glittering eyes. Fuck, why does he have to smell so absolutely delicious? And the heat that radiates from his body seems to warm you through skin and bone.
“Hehe, I knew you’d like that. First time lying next to a real man I guess.”
“No, your just stinky”, you blurt out.
His face drops immediately, as well as what’s left of your sense of humor and spirit. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was a bad idea. A really really bad idea.
“You aren’t really in the position to have a big mouth, sweetheart.”
With a swift motion, he lays on top of you, gaze piercing through you as all you can do is to writhe underneath him. Fuck, this feels so good…What? You shake your head, try to calm your hammering heart down. What the hell has gotten into you?
His hand cups your face with a tenderness that you wouldn’t have believed he’s capable of while he eyes you up and down.
“You should be glad. Not many women end up in bed with me on top of them. Today is your lucky day”, he breathes out.
“That I don’t laugh”, you hush.
Your mind and heart are all over your place. Suddenly you aren’t cold anymore but burning hot, the sheer weight of his immense body seems to crush you.
But why on earth does it have to feel so good? This man kidnapped and chained you to this tiny bed. It is obvious that he only causes trouble, not even a gorgeous face can change that.  But the way he looks down at you, his firm body pressed against yours makes it harder second by second to not stretch out your arms to investigate the valleys of his tight muscles.
“You don’t seem to mind sharing a bed with me the way you press your legs together.”
Caught. You hold your breath and look at the ceiling. This will end horrible if you don’t start keeping your composure and stop acting like a horny teenager. This man is evil, he kidnapped you, you are his hostage-
Your hands hold onto his broad shoulder tightly, roaming all over his black shirt.
“Maybe just for a minute or two…”, you mumble.
Geto Suguru
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Your heart skips a beat when you catch a glimpse of him and he perfectly made man bun through which you recognize him from miles away.
Geto Suguru is back. Finally, after days, he made it back to Jujutsu High. Your feet start running on their own, too impatient to wait another second.
“Woah, easy there (y/n)”, he laughs as you lung yourself at him and burry your face in the crook of his neck.
It was so easy to fall in love with Suguru, especially when the two of you spent so much time together.
“I missed you so much”, you mumble against his uniform, arms tightening around his chest as if your life depends on it.
“I missed you too, (y/n). Heard that Satoru wants to throw a party, do you know anything about it?”
With furrowed brows, you let go of him. A party? Satoru didn’t mention the slightest about it.
“No, I’m completely clueless. But I’m set on an important mission tomorrow anyway, so no alcohol for me”, you reply.
“Fair enough. Let’s get something to eat, okay. I’m starving.”
For the rest of the day, Gojo makes no secret out of the party he will throw that evening in his (and Suguru’s) dorm.
“I really hope you’ll catch some sleep tonight”, you comment while smiling at Gojo, who desperately tries to convince Nanami to come.
“If not, I’ll just sleep at your dorm. Be prepared”, Suguru jokingly remarks.
Your heart skips a beat. Suguru sleeping at your place? The thought alone makes your stomach flutter in excitement and your cheeks go red. Way too many nights you dreamed of this to happen, to experience what it’s like to rest your head against his chest while he wraps an arm around your shoulder while his even breaths brush over face gently. Gojo really doesn’t know how lucky he is to share a room with Suguru.
“I’ll be ready. Just knock on the door twice”, you giggle.
“Check. I have to get going now. See you tomorrow before your mission. Or tonight, who knows.”
Yeah, who knows?
- Later that evening –
Knock knock.
Your eyes snap open immediately. Did you dream that? Your still sleep drunken eyes dart towards the door. Oh, please let it be real. Let it be him.
“Suguru?”, you whisper into the darkness of the room.
No response. Maybe you just desperately hoped it to be him. It’s nothing new that Suguru haunts you even when you sleep after all. Your heart sinks, while you turn to the side. Hopefully he has a great night.
Knock knock.
Instantly, you sit bolt upright in bed. No, this wasn’t a dream. You heard it loud and clearly. Before thinking twice you get up and open the door only to get greeted by his smile.
Oh, that gorgeous smile.
“Is your offer still valid?”, he whispers into the peace of the night.
“Sure, come in…”
You didn’t get the chance to see him like that often, dressed in an oversized grey shirt, shorts and his messy hair let down. But he sure does look breathtaking. So breathtaking that you forget how to move for a moment.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Do I look this bed?”, he asks while scratching the back of his head.
“No, not at all. You look absolutely handsome”, you blurt out.
Screw your fast mouth, why can’t you think and then speak?
“Oh, don’t flatter me (y/n). Not when you’re the one that’s looking absolutely gorgeous at the moment.”
Your knees threaten to give in any minute, sleep-drunken eyes just staring at him in disbelieve. This has to be a wonderful dream, right? Like the ones you try to rewatch over and over again. But no, Suguru is standing right in front of you, his soft smell radiating from his stunning figure. This is very real.
He clears his throat.
“Looks like the party won’t end anytime soon and I’m just too worn out to be awake another minute. Would you mind going to sleep? I’ll take the floor.”
“No, absolutely not”, you protest.
No way in hell is Suguru sleeping on your floor after a difficult mission.
“I’ll sleep on the chair”, you suggest.
“No way in hell, (y/n). I’m your guest and you’re leaving for an important mission tomorrow.”
“Then we’ll have to share my bed I guess”, you say your thoughts out loud.
Thick silence hangs in the air. God, you wish the floor would swallow you whole. What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you suggest something so dumb? There is no way that Suguru wants to share a bed with you-
“If you don’t mind, I’m in”, he replies.
You have to blink a few times, did he really just say yes?
“Do you like sleeping on the wall?”
“Y-Yes…”, you stutter.
“Then get in.”
Your feet follow his instruction on their own, carrying you back into bed. The mattress gives in under his weight, causing your arm to slightly brush against his.
“Oh, I’m sorry”, you mutter awkwardly.
“Don’t be. I always liked to be touched by you”, he admits.
Your heart stops.
“(y/n), what I want to say is that…No bed is as comforting as spending my time with you. I just feel like I like you a little more than just as a friend…”
“I love you”, you breathe out without thinking twice.
God, how much you love Suguru Geto. No matter how long he’s gone, no matter how often you told yourself that there will never be more between both of you than a friendship, you always craved more.
You always graved him. Completely, everything from him.
He wraps his arms around you so tightly that you just know this has to be real. No more dreaming, no more imagining. Suguru is laying right by your side, holding you close to his body.
“Thank god Gojo throws that stupid party tonight”, he comments, hand gently caressing your face.
“Thank god this dream became real…”
Yu Haibara
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You jump up and down in joy, giggling loudly at the sight in front of you. Finally, it is this time of the week again. The time of your movie night with Yu.
“I knew you’d love some sushi, so I thought I’d surprise you!”, he announces, smiling widely.
You don’t know how or when it started. Since you’re both in first class of Jujutsu High, you always spent a lot of time together. Right at the beginning you both discovered your passion for good films. One thing lead to another and now you’re having a movie night each Friday.
It’s way more than that for you, though.
“You’re the best!”, you yell in excitement, embracing him in a tight hug.
“No, you’re the best. Come on, let’s waste no time.”
He grabs your hand and pulls you with him into his dorm.
You can’t believe your eyes.
“Oh my”, you breathe out.
This is way too cute. Yu decorated his room with candles and a fairy light, windows completely darkened. His bed is turned into a blanket castle, tv directed towards it. Your heart flutters, tears start stinging in your eyes.
“You didn’t have to do that”, you hush, absolutely mesmerized by how magical the room looks.
“I wanted to do something special for you tonight, (y/n).  Since you are so special to me”, he explains briefly.
His chocolate brown eyes stare down at you with nothing but affection in them. If you could, you would melt away in an instant. What a sweet and caring boy he is. Always there for others, careful about putting a smile on the faces of those around him. You can’t help but admire him for his beautiful soul and character. God, you truly don’t deserve this amount of kindness.
“Oh Yu, I think I need to cry.”
Tenderly, you wrap your arms around him once more, take in his soft scent that sticks to his white shirt that you love on him so much.
“Come on, no need to cry. Let’s get into bed instead!”
Gently, he pushes you into the mattress and hands you a pair of chopsticks.
“As it’s my turn to choose a film, I decided on something Ghibli”, he proudly announces.
All you can do is stare at him in awe. He is so breathtakingly gorgeous that you can’t believe you sit next to him on his bed. Every Friday, your heart skips a beat when gazing upon his features. He makes it look so easy to smile in a world that seems hopeless most of the time, always optimistic.
“Are you okay, (y/n)?”
You shake your thoughts away, cheeks redden. Damn, he caught you staring. He smiles softly at you, hand gently brushing against your arm. Oh, you see stars.
“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed I guess…”, you mumble.
“No need to be overwhelmed. You deserve the world! This is a small gesture compared to how great you are!”
By the way his eyes light up you can tell that he truly believes in his own words.
“Hey (y/n), would you mind cuddling a little? I guess I just really love your hugs.”
Time stands still, you fumble for words. If you mind to cuddle, with him? Absolutely not. No, this is what your dreams are made of.
“Not at all.”
“Great!”
Gently, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and positions the blanket on top of both of you, sushi placed on his lap. You let your head sink against his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment. Oh, how much you longed for that Friday nights, how much you adore his touch. The unusual sensation of him asking for cuddles sends a shiver down your spine and makes your heart flutter in excitement.
“You know, I love it when we lay in my bed and watch movies. It’s my highlight every week”, he confesses casually between eating some sushi.
“Really?”
“Of course! Your great company and your taste in movies is exquisite.”
You let out a cute little giggle at the way he dramatically pronounces the last word of his sentence, index finger stretched out in front of his nose. Yu never failed to make you smile.
“I just hope this never ends. I really like you, Yu…”
Your confession sounds so strange coming out of your mouth, but you can’t hold it back any longer.
“Well, I really hope you do considering you are my girlfriend!”
Girlfriend!? Your eyes dart at him in shock, mouth hanging open while your mind fumbles for the right words.
Girlfriend? He never mentioned that he’s in a relationship before, especially not with you.
“I mean, you are my girlfriend, right? After all we’re spending so much time together and it’s clear that you like me and I like you”, he adds, confused by the way your expression changed.
“You know that normally, people ask each other out, right?”, you enquire, still staring at him like an idiot.
Yu simply shrugs his shoulders while gifting you with another of his breathtaking smiles.
“Why asking if I already know that we like each other? Seems pretty unnecessary to me. Or do you not want to?”
You can see the way his grin slightly drops at this possibility. No, no, no, this is absolutely not what you wanted.
“Yes, yes, yes. I absolutely want to”, you blabber out.
He lets out a laughter, arms wrapping themselves around you tightly while your heart hammers against his chest. You’ve been imagining a relationship with him for so long while he’s been living in it for what seems like weeks? You giggle into yourself, shaking your head in disbelief. Somehow, this is absolutely typically for him.
“I’m glad you’re with me in this relationship now”, he notes.
“Yeah, me too…”
Choso
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“Oh my god, this is just way too exciting!”, you blabber, eyes darting around the dark hallway to soak the moment in.
“You know you’re getting kidnapped, right?”, Choso questions.
“But this is my first time getting kidnapped!”, you clarify.
Wow, this is unusual. You seem so unbothered by the fact that your life is in danger than even Choso himself is too stunned to speak.
“Are you gonna torture me too!?”
“What the hell is wrong with you, woman?”
The enjoyment that lights up your eyes, your hands not even trying to fight against the chains and how you roam around in pure pleasure. This was supposed to be a blackmail attempt in order to tease Satoru Gojo out. After all, you are one of his precious students. But it seems like it doesn’t work out like that at all.
“You aren’t human, right? Hm, let me guess…”
“I’m incarnated, dumbass.”
“Oh, that’s really interesting! Would you mind telling me more about yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Can I touch you?”
“No.”
“What a bummer…”
You sign as you look up to his tall figure.
“You’re actually quite handsome”, you comment casually.
Irritated, Choso grabs your shoulder and pushes you against a nearby wall, absolutely thrown off course by your sudden compliment.
“Aren’t you at least a little scared of me?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.
“I mean, the others told me that you are a special grade and I’m a grade 2, so I’m no match. But you don’t seem like a bad guy to me at all, more like quiet and introverted”, you explain briefly.
Urgh, that spark of innocence in your doe eyes makes it hard for Choso to seem unpromising. Maybe it would have been better to send Mahito after you…
No. Something inside him resists this idea. No way in hell will Mahito get is dirty hands on you.
Choso shakes his head and lets go of your shoulders, continuing to escort you. He has a mission to finish, after all.
“May I ask why you brought me here?”
He stops in his tracks while side-eyeing your frame.
“You’re here to attract Satoru Gojo.”
Even from afar, he can’t help but admire your features. Yes, you are very easy on his eyes, the way you stare at him in nothing but admiration, as if he’s something special apart from his outstanding abilities…
What the hell has gotten into him? He is a half cursed spirit, feelings like affection have no place in his world. You are nothing more than an annoying mission to him.
“I’m sorry about what has happened to your brothers”, you suddenly blurt out.
He can’t believe his ears. Slowly, he turns around to face you, features completely twisted in anger until he looks in your eyes.
Your eyes of innocence that are filled with nothing but sadness and sincerity.
“That’s none of your business”, he spits at you.
“Oh, but it is. My people are responsible for you being miserable and you seem like a genuinely nice guy”, you remark.
How ironically, he thinks to himself. To be called nice by a jujutsu sorcerer. You two couldn’t be more different. It’s your job to exorcise curses like him, curses that threaten humanity.
“Get in there”, he instructs you.
You follow the direction of his stretched out finger without thinking twice into the small room on the end of the hallway.
“Pretty nice for a prison, wow, there’s even a bed!”, you cry out and jump on the mattress.
It’s pretty hard, you have to admit. But better than what you’d imagined being held hostage would be like.
“Are you staying here with me?”
“I have no other choice. You’re my mission and I’m in no mood for trouble.”
“Oh, that’s cool! I’d love to chit chat with you!”
He can’t help but roll his eyes at you. After talking non-sense for half an hour, you now lay passed out on bed, snoring softly. How are you even able to close an eye when your life is in danger? If he wanted to, he could kill you without blinking. He signs to himself.
He wouldn’t do that though. Not when something about you seems so mesmerizing. Is it the way your hair falls so perfectly and frames your face? Or how you carry yourself with so much confidence that not even a cursed spirit can break your optimism? Maybe your effortless beauty is the source of all evil.
It’s just…you. He allows himself to get closer, sitting next to your passed out body on the bed. You look so peaceful, as if you’re just lying in bed, waiting for another day to arrive. He wished he could be so carefree, so cheerful.
Gently, his hand caresses your cheek. Why do you have to look so damn lovely, even to him?
“Can you hold me?”, you mumble sleep drunken.
He holds his breath. Fuck, did you just catch him stroking you? No, your eyes are still closed and a few seconds after those words escaped your lips, a soft snoring is heard again. You talked in your sleep. You asked him to…cuddle you.
Carefully, he places himself besides you on this way too small bed, arm hesitantly wrapping itself around your waist. Oh, you feel so warm, your sweet perfume tingling in his nose. What a truly lovely human being you are, so different from all the other people he has met yet.  Maybe…Maybe you are indeed different. Maybe not all humans have to be killed.
“Can you scratch my head?”, your acquitted voice requests.
“Don’t get greedy”, Choso warns you, before massaging your head.
621 notes · View notes
hitlikehammers · 1 month
Text
to die by your side (is such a heavenly way to die)
rating: t ♥️ cw: angst with a happy ending (which is actually kinda fluffy?), limbo/near-death experiences, post-S4/Upside Down-heavy, falling in love ♥️ tags: falling for each other in the space between life and death, happy ending
for @steddielovemonth day twenty-six: Love is a fire that never goes out (@sidekick-hero)
this is because of 1) this song being too close to the prompt for me to disengage it in my head, and the chorus therefore dictating this plot line, and 2) @hbyrde36 picked it and, again, I am very susceptible to people indicating they like a thing and would enjoy more, so @hbyrde36: I hope you enjoy what this became ♥️
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“Oh fuck, not you, too.”
Steve looks up—when did he sit down, he doesn’t remember sitting down, he doesn’t remember how even got here, and hey, actually, where is here—
“What?” Steve looks toward the voice; familiar. See the wreath of curls around a pale face.
“This is death, right?” Eddie’s crossing over to him, crouching just beside; “I’m dead, like, I am very sure I’m dead, but you’re here, so—“
“I don’t,” Steve breathes in sharp—tries to get his bearings, tries to see but it’s just black in every direction, his lungs feel like they’re halved in size all of sudden, everything feels tight and painful and hard like inhaling isn’t something guaranteed, and his heartbeat feels like it’s dragging the carcass of something with it when it pumps, laborious and—
He’s is breathing, though, even if it’s kinda half-assed; he’s got a heartbeat, even if it feels like it’s about to fucking give out.
That doesn’t…that doesn’t sound like death.
“I,” Steve licks his lips; his mouth is so fucking dry but swelling kinda hurts and…he’s not as fucked up as he has a feeling he should be, he needs to think harder than he’s ready for just now to figure out what the last thing that happened between where he was, and where he is but: he thinks he should be more fucked up on, like, an instinctual level that knows he should be pretty fucked up, basically, and he’s not.
But again: he still hurts, and that…also doesn’t sound like death.
He swallows anyway; not that it helps.
“Max said there was this, black void,” Steve works through the first thing that comes to mind slowly, processes as he speaks; “with water,” and he looks down and sees the ripples in what he’s sitting in, moving around him but…but the reflections are right, and there’s no light so how are there even wrong reflections; he wasn’t good in his science classes but he feels pretty sure you need light to see anything in a mirror, plus—
“Water,” he flicks his hand from the standing pool around him up at Eddie without warning: “that wasn’t wet.”
Eddie splutters, but it dies down quick: it’s supposed to be wet. He expects it to be.
But it’s not. His eyes go so fucking big.
“It’s attached to the Upside Down,” Steve pushes on; “Eleven can like, come here, but,” he shakes his head and Eddie grimaces: she lost her powers.
“So it’s almost-death,” Eddie surmises, and drops into the not-water next to Steve.
“I guess so,” Steve shrugs, and draws his legs up; hugs his knees.
“Fucking great,” Eddie huffs, sneers, and it’s…Steve not sure why exactly, but it feels…targeted. Directed at him, because one, yes: he isthe only other thing here—as far as he can tell—but the words Eddie’d no-greeted him with float back into his consciousness:
Not you.
“Sorry to rain on your parade, man,” Steve bites out and shoves his head down between his thighs, maybe to breathe, maybe to think, maybe to hide, maybe to fucking cry, maybe to…fuck, he doesn’t even know.
He thinks he’s in the middle of trying to split the difference of every possible thing when Eddie’s voice breaks the still in the dark: “I didn’t,” and honestly, Steve’s never heard that voice sound so soft, so small; “that’s not what I meant,” and it’s an apology even if they words don’t add up exact, Steve feels it clear like a blow to the solar plexus. He turns to Eddie, who’s staring out at the nothing.
“I don’t want to be alone,” Eddie whispers, and his lip trembles, Steve can see that despite the lack of light.
Steve can see tears on that face, too, despite the lack of any light.
“But I hate that you’re here,” Eddie’s voice catches on kind of a whine, and Steve maybe would startle, when a hand reaches out and covers his; Eddie still does look at him, but he flattens his hand over Steve’s like a squeeze:
“That you’re here, too.”
And, oh. Okay.
Okay.
They’re here, then. Together.
Here.
___________________
It takes a while—he thinks; he thinks it’s a while, but one of the first things that makes itself plain in this godforsaken place is how times means absolutely fucking nothing, so; he think it takes a while to remember the vines.
They were coming back for Robin, and Steve would die before he let her get hurt so: that’s the last thing he remembers.
For Eddie, it’s the bats; Steve grimaces, hates even imagining like…swarms of them. More of their bites.
He’s the one who reaches for Eddie’s hand, this time—he wants to say it’s just a little comfort for the particularly bad things that are coming up as they sit here, as they draw patterns in the not-water and blow against it to make little waves just for shits, mindless and stupid: he wants to say that when it gets too much, and then keeps going, when it’s the worst, they’ve started to reach because what else can they do? Who else can they lean on?
Who’s gonna fucking know?
Actually: no. He doesn’t want to say that.
He wants to say the truth: the truth being they touch a lot. They reach a lot. They reach because it’s quiet. They reach because it’s dark. They reach because they’re frustrated. Or they’re scared. Steve could map Eddie’s calluses blind if he was asked to. Eddie traces his veins without being able to see close enough to know that he’s right.
He wants to say the truth: that he wants to touch. He craves it. And not just from anyone.
He craves this.
He doesn’t know what that fucking means.
But he’s the one who reaches, and covers Eddie’s hand, presses down to keep him when Eddie remembers the bats.
And he’s the one who leans, who rests their shoulders together and holds his breath.
But Eddie is the one who doesn’t move away, who leans in too, he tips his head onto Steve and breathes out slow so Steve can feel the warm damp of it on his skin and…
Steve’s heart’s fucking pounding, but then also it’s kinda like fluttering, and either way:
That’s not death.
___________________
Steve likes that the not-water is…not water, because lying back in it doesn’t fuck up his hair. Which…feels cleaner than it should be he figures maybe that’s just the same as both he and Eddie not being riddled with the wounds they should be rights be covered in—he can run his hands through it and that’s really all he wants, his hands, or like, you know if other hands wanted—
Whatever; he’s not going to question the not-water. He’s happy it doesn’t make him a wet dog just for trying to lay back and pretend there are stars.
Which he’d still be doing, if a weird…flapping noise hadn’t started up over to the left.
He has to squint in the no-light to see what the fuck’s going on, something in Eddie’s hands, oh shit, flapping, is it one of those fucking bats—
“What the fuck?”
Eddie freezes, and turns. And Steve sees what’s in his hands.
Doesn’t change his question.
Eddie just blinks at him. And runs his thumbs over the desk of cards he’s holding, flicking them one by one: flapping.
“Where the hell did those come from?”
Eddie shrugs. “Pocket.”
Steve gapes a little.
“You’ve had them the whole time?” because again, even if the feeling’s shifted: what the fuck
“Lots of pockets, man,” Eddie grins cheekily as he shakes his jacket out, like Steve can see any pockets.
Then he’s walking over to Steve on his knees before dropping cross-legged and shuffling the deck before he taps them out on his thigh and leans in:
“Pick your poison.”
And Steve’s played his share of cards, is actually pretty decent at poker, but, like…
“I don’t,” he bites his lip and stares at the predictable red pattern of the face-down cards;“I don’t want to think,” he finishes, kinda fucking lame, but Eddie’s not deterred, flips a few cards off the top with a thump before balancing the rest on his knee, offering half the cards he’s still holding to Steve with a little wiggle of his eyebrows:
“Go Fish?”
And Steve, he, like—
This is not-death, right, but whatever it is, it’s probably not good, and yet here Steve sits, with five cards in his hand and…Jesus.
He feels his lips stretch and he doesn’t think he’s smiled like this in…
In a while.
___________________
“Three Musketeers,” Steve answers when they’re lounging in the not-water, heads lined up so sometimes Steve feels the tickle of Eddie’s curls.
“The fuck?” Eddie huffs a laugh; the question was just things they’d miss if they never get out of here; like, it’s a little morbid and also a little hopeful all at once.
They’ve been working deeper in the category of food for a bit now, and so it’s candy bars. And Steve does not see what’s controversial about his choice, honestly.
“I love those, shit,” Steve waves his hand in the air, dismissing Eddie’s very wrong opinion, here; “they’re just,” Steve hums, tries to figure out the best way to defend a genuinely fucking excellent snack food:
“They’re simple,” and that sounds like a weak defense but look at where they are, look at their lives, that is fucking high praise. “Not too sweet and like, light and airy and,” Steve tilts his head, imagines the mouthfeel:
“Kinda delicate when you bite into ‘em,” he feels himself grin a little: “like bubbles or something,” because…yeah.
They’re awesome, but then he looks over at Eddie, who’s already turned to look at him, his gaze…something. Weighty but not oppressive. Piercing but not painful.
“Sorry,” Steve feels himself flush and it’s no the first time, or the worst time, but he’s grateful just like he is every time that there’s no fucking light and whatever lets them see at all doesn’t give away a blush; “sorry, that’s—“
“That’s adorable,” Eddie says with something…equally undefinable in his voice as much as his eyes, but this thing makes Steve feel, like, warm and tingly, a little, under his skin, in his chest; “you’re right, they’re…” and Eddie reaches for his hand, which they do a lot, yeah, but not…not so often for good things and this feels…like a good thing.
“They’re really good,” Eddie presses his hand over Steve’s, like a blanket, all encompassing—Steve has broad hands but Eddie’s fingers are longer than he’d ever noticed and he—
Steve likes how they fit.
“Under-appreciated, I think,” Eddie’s voice has lowered, softened, and it kinda feels like he’s saying something that has nothing to do with candy bars at all: “because people aren’t looking close enough to see how amazing it is.”
Yeah, for how Eddie’s staring at him, and for how Steve’s pulse has ramped up all of a sudden: Steve doesn’t really think Eddie’s talking about chocolate at all.
___________________
“You’re really good company.”
Eddie turns and blinks Steve’s way.
“What?”
Steve swallows; he’s not sure what made him say it. Except that it’s true.
“I’d have liked it,” he starts, like, expands on the point rather than revisiting the simple part; “if we could have, y’know,” and he gestures between them; “hung out.”
Eddie tilts his head, and he doesn’t smile exactly, but it kinda feels like his whole face, maybe his whole body, is a smile.
“Well,” he huffs a little laugh, like a disbelieving sound; “we’re hanging out, now.”
And Steve smiles the normal way, which is probably lesser to look at, but he wishes really hard that Eddie could, like, slip under his skin and see how it feels on the inside. “Yeah,” Steve grins at the darkness for a second, chews his lips a little, suddenly kinda…bashful, fuck:
“Yeah we are,” and then he breathes in deep, and makes himself be brave with something he doesn’t wholly understand:
“I like it,” and that’s an understatement.
And then Eddie hums, and covers Steve’s hand as he murmurs:
“Me too, sweetheart.”
And Steve’s heartbeat catches on that word, or more, reaches for that word, that name, greedy and wild and it pounds out that same desperate mantra blood-in-blood-out unwavering:
not-dead, not-dead, not-dead, not—
___________________
Eddie’s smile is so fucking pretty.
He didn’t know what Speed was, like the card game, so they’ve each got a pile balanced on a knee as the flip and they’re pressed up tight at their crossed legs to make a little table from their limbs for the discards and Eddie’s just…
It’s not just his smile.
“My grandpa taught me to play,” Steve comments idly, mostly just for something to say when it looks like they’re stuck and need to flip from the sides.
“It’s chaotic,” Eddie looks up and meets Steve’s eyes, his own fucking glittering when the lack of light should make that impossible but Steve thinks Eddie is kinda impossible so probably it fits.
“I like it,” he proclaims, as he reaches for another card to start the momentum back up, raises an eyebrow at Steve and waits for him to follow suit like he’s the expect, like Steve didn’t fucking just show him this game—
“You would,” Steve snorts and Eddie?
Eddie just beams bigger, and that catches in Steve’s pulse, nudges it to sing something that’s more than just not-dead; that’s more…
That feels more
___________________
It’s the more-feeling that breaks him, in the end.
“You called me big boy.”
Steve doesn’t really have control over his mouth, when it happens. Or else, like, he doesn’t think before the words tumble out, and the lie in the not-water and stare at the absence of the starts in the not-sky.
His heart’s jumped up to his throat, now.
Eddie’s quiet, for a while, even if time doesn’t mean anything here; Eddie’s quiet, and Steve’s heart wants to jump out of his fucking mouth but if it does than it’s got two destinations: it can’t drown in the not-water so that’s fucking useless, and then there’s Eddie, Eddie’s hands, Eddie’s chest and—
“I,” Eddie finally speaks, and his voice is rough, far away;“I, yeah.”
Steve doesn’t know what he was expecting. He wasn’t planning on saying anything so there weren’t any expectations built in.
“You looked at me,” Steve’s whispering, but it wavers, it moves with the force of his blood; “like you…” Steve licks his lips, swallows a whimper because what is he doing, what is he doing—
“Being almost-dead is really going to take the thunder out of your backlash on this, Harrington,” Eddie cuts into his panic and Steve’s head snaps over to look, to try and read Eddie’s expression: scared. Bracing for impact. Like Steve would, like Steve could ever—
“No, no, I,” Steve raises himself up and scoots over to Eddie, grabs his hands and presses them together in his own, never once looks away from Eddie’s eyes as they stretch wide.
“What did you mean?” because Steve’s started this, and Eddie’s anxious for it and…he needs Eddie to understand he’s not upset, he’s confused, his heart’s all swollen for it, he just, he—
“With the, with calling me that, and with leaning in like you did in the woods,” his breath’s shaking on the exhale: “with all the looks,” and he tries to leave it all in his eyes, on his face, open and clear for all that he doesn’t understand, but also for all that he…that he hopes.
Eventually, Eddie sighs, and squeezes his eyes shut tight, almost like a wince.
But he doesn’t pulls his hands away.
“You’re not stupid, Steve.”
Steve shakes his head, even if Eddie can’t see it.
“I’m very stupid.”
And Eddie’s eyes fly open, look wrathful, look offended on…Steve’ behalf, what the fuck?
And yeah, yeah, he’s opening his mouth now to fight him, to fight Steve about Steve and…no. No, that’s not the point.
“I’m stupid,” Steve says again, but quick so he can get it out; “about like,” he tries to find the right words and remembers Robin’s point on it once:
“About, you know, matters of the heart.”
Eddie’s features slacken, and his mouth drops open as he blinks at Steve before he eventually chokes out:
“Heart?”
But Steve can hear it. He can hear the confusion, like his own, but also just like his own:
He thinks he can hear the hope.
“You held that bottle to my throat and all I wanted was for you to lean closer,” he confesses, and it feels amazing, like he can breathe again, or see in color even though there’s so little color, here.
“And slit it?” Eddie croaks, incredulous, still a little slack-jawed and Steve laughs, because he can breathe, and—
“And kiss me, you dick.”
Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, and his eyes somehow get bigger, and his chest’s heaving and Steve wants that not to be for fearing, he wants Eddie to be anything but scared, he wants Eddie to be hoping—
“Stevie,” Eddie barely breathes and…it’s not scared, or else, not like it could be. It’s hesitant. It’s…full, of something Steve thinks might be incredible.
“You call me sweetheart,” Steve leans in, pushes the point, leans more until he’s close enough where he can feel Eddie’s breath on his face; “here. Now.”
Eddie nods immediately, doesn’t try to hide from it.
“Yeah, I do,” he breathes, and watches Steve so careful, unblinking.
“What does it mean,” Steve pushes, angles his lips without even thinking, without making the choice but Eddie?
Eddie makes the choice, and he kisses Steve so fucking sure and sweet and still wild somehow and Steve never wants to not be here. Never wants to not have this mouth under his, never wants to not have Eddie’s hands in his own: he doesn’t wholly understand it, where it comes from or what all it means but…his heart’s fucking dancing, the joy’s almost sore for it’s size and when Steve breathes between them, when they break for half a second to breathe and stare and marvel and Eddie looks like he’s entranced, like he’s overjoyed, and the only other thing here is Steve?
Fuck. Fuck.
If this ends up being death, that’s okay. That’s okay, as long as there’s also this.
___________________
He’s on top of Eddie’s chest, curled so so close, when it starts to feel…different. In his body. Like something pulling him.
The dark is still absolute but it almost feels like they’re on the brink of something, like dawn could come.
Steve fucking hates it.
“I don’t want to die alone,” Eddie whispers against his head, kisses at his hair.
“I don’t want you to die,” Steve grits out, almost violent, because isn’t this how it started, wasn’t that what Eddie meant, that he didn’t want Steve here, too—but Steve won’t accept that.
He cannot fucking accept that.
“I don’t want you to die at all.”
Eddie drags the tip of his nose back and forth against Steve’s hair some more as he breathes, breathes, breathes—
“To die by your side,” Eddie murmurs low; “would be my privilege,” and Steve chokes on a whine, a sob—it’s too much. It’s too much, and he needs this man, he needs him so much, he think he fucking loves hi—
“Maybe it’s not dying,” Steve tries, looks out into the abyss and he can’t see what’s on the way but he feels it; they both feel it: “maybe we’ll,” and he grabs Eddie’s hand and brings it to his lips.
“Maybe we’ll wake up.”
Maybe. Maybe.
“Kiss me,” Eddie exhales and Steve pulls back, slides up Eddie’s chest and hovers over him, makes to claim his lips but then Eddie lifts a palm, pauses Steve as he presses it over his racing heart and blinks at him, makes the tears fall from his lashes:
“Kiss me again when we wake up.”
And Steve will, he will, but.
He’s gonna kiss Eddie now, too. He’s going to kiss Eddie always.
He thinks his heart’s going too fast to beat out words but that, in itself, has to mean something that isn’t…death.
So he pours that conviction, and all the hope he’s got left, into Eddie as he devours him, breathes into him like they can melt together, like if Steve’s air lifts Eddie’s lungs they’ll be one person, one living soul and whatever happens…
Whatever happens will take them both.
___________________
Eddie splutters, clutches his chest; his heart’s racing, it feels like his blood’s on fire because every beat fucking burns, and the tear of his shirt where it’s stuck to his skin—dried blood, fucking hell—all up his side is absolutely disgusting, Jesus fuck—
“Eddie!”
He turns and that, that’s Henderson, and he squints; that’s Henderson running toward him, less than a minute away at that pace and Eddie doesn’t know if he can sit up but he’ll try, he digs his fingers into the mud and makes to lift—
And then something crashes into him, pins him right back down.
Covers his hands. Presses.
And he can’t get a word out, can barely fucking breathe before his lips are covered, before he’s being kissed so fucking desperate and giddy and all these feelings being fed straight into him, his heart leaping up in his throat to steal a taste but it doesn’t need to, it doesn’t need to because he feels…he feels it all everywhere, and he looks up and he shakes, he laughs, he’s gonna fucking cry—
“You woke up,” Eddie whispers, marvels, thinks his whole face is going to split open with, with joy and Steve, Steve is here, and he’s smiling back, and he’s breathing and they’re, it’s—
There’s light here. Steve’s eyes are like molten copper, they flicker, they shine.
“Promised,” Steve murmurs close, his lips moving Eddie’s lips with each syllable and the taste is, is…sweet and soft and light and perfect and Eddie almost doesn’t ask because it feels so right, so unquestionable but also he wants, something fierce and unwavering, and he needs to be sure where the water’s real, and the ripples mean something when you shift the whole fucking world, when you feel this big you know it’ll move the earth breathe your feet, so he has to ask:
“That the only reason?”
He still feels the hope from wherever they were, though; he feels it still, here, and he believes in it more in the light, he thinks, and he looks at Steve, takes him in, sees his chest rising and his pulse at the neck: real. Real, and so beautiful, and so, so—
Steve leans and kisses him hard, almost painful but it’s divine, Eddie will bask in the sting of it for the rest of his fucking life if he’s allowed, and then—
Then Steve pulls back and pins him with his eyes, now, fierce and on fire and they steal Eddie’s breath with feeling, with intent as Steve grabs at his shoulders, pulls them flush together and growls against his ear, like a vow almost:
“Only reason?” Steve huffs, shakes his head. “Not even close,” and he drags his lips over Eddie’s skin, catches Eddie’s hair, weaves into Eddie’s heartbeat:
not-dead, not-dead, not-dead
in-love, in-love, in-love—
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tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 
♥️
divider credit here
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garrison-girl-08 · 3 months
Text
F*ck Buddies
Part 3 ( more here)
Pairing -Modern Thomas Shelby and Reader
Warnings- 18*, swearing, violence, sexual content
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Still stunned by what happened at the gym. You were unsure, what you were meant to do now. He had kissed you, and walked off. When you had finished work, his car was gone. Should you call him? That was probably what he wanted.
You'd had a barrage of questions, from your colleagues. Wanting to know who the mystery man was. You liked to keep your personal life private.
Calling your your friend, Daisy, you told her the whole story. While laying on your sofa, eating Ferrero Rocher. Her laughter floated into your ears, as you opened another chocolate. "What did poor Margaret do?" she asked about your client.
"I think she was shocked, it was hardly a peck on the cheek," you explained, "You know one of those kisses... that just..." you sighed.
“Just takes your breath away….," You found yourself gazing off into the distance, thinking about him.
Daisy went silent for a few moments. "Oh Y/n, you have got it bad," she warned. Now realising, You and Tommy could never stay Fuck Buddies, it had gone a lot deeper.
"What do you mean?" you quickly defended, opening another chocolate, why did you even buy them? It was making you feel sick now.
"You are pining for him, you are in love!" she vented, "Oh Tommy, kiss me again," Daisy mocked, laughing into the phone. "Take my breath away!"
"Right, that's enough," you warned her, as your doorbell rang. "I have to go,"
In love... she's crazy.
Glancing in your hallway mirror, you made sure there was no chocolate around your face. Before opening your door, revealing a woman with a huge bouquet of flowers.
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“Miss Y/L/N?" she asked, all you could do was nod in response. Thanking her, you closed the door, pulling out the note attached.
"Y/n.. I am sorry. How about we do this properly? Can I take you out? T xx"
Properly? God, you felt nervous, you had never actually been on a date with him. Did the man even eat? You would have to text him now. Maybe he didn’t mean a date ? Argh ! What should you say?
“Thank you for the flowers, so when are you taking me out? Xx” you typed. Had you forgave him too easily?
Smiling as he read your message, Tommy ran his tongue along his lips. “7pm tomorrow, I will pick you up xo,”
“Ok, wait outside for me. I don’t trust you in my apartment,” Flopping back onto your sofa, you awaited his response.
“Best behaviour, I expect the same from you. Hands to yourself, Miss Y/L/N, xx,”
The next day passed quickly, and you were soon dressed for your date. If it even was a date? You just so happened, to have picked up some new underwear. Wore your best perfume, and a figure hugging dress. You wanted to look nice, feel sexy.
Not for him, honestly...
Reading his text to say he was here, you took a deep breath. Making your way into the lift. Why were you so nervous? You'd let this man fuck you, in every position possible. Made him cum like a steam train. But spending the evening together, actually conversing.
You were not used to this. Truthfully, it had been a few months since you had been on a date. You were out of practice. Just be yourself, Y/n. That's all you had to do.
"My, my look at you," Tommy remarked, as you approached him he was leaning against his car. Taking your hand, he spun you around, tongue licking his lips. "Hmm, fuck.... this is gonna be harder than I thought,"
"What is?" you frowned, letting him press a kiss to your lips.
"Trying to be on my best behaviour, Y/n," he winked, holding his car door open for you. Why did he have to say your name like that? Shit, you pressed your thighs together. Resisting the urge, to drag him back upstairs.
Conversation flowed, as he drove you both to a restaurant he had booked. Once inside, he pulled out the chair for you.
"What are you drinking?" he asked, as the waitress hovered. "Wine, champagne?" Again he found his eyes drifting to your lips, the gloss you had applied drawing him in.
"Oh I am working early in the morning, I will just have a small wine please," you answered, sipping some water from a glass on the table. God, your mouth was dry.
Ordering the drinks, Tommy handed you a menu. Clearing his throat, as he watched you flick through the pages. "So, I was a prick New Year. And I am really sorry, can we clear the air, ey?"
Leaning back, you tucked your hair behind you ear. "Just New Year? You've been a prick plenty of times, but that was uncalled for. I mean... you are lucky I am even sitting here," You mused, raising your eyebrow.
"That I am," Tommy smirked.
"Some stunt you pulled, Thomas. Unexpected, even for you," you mused, playing with the page of your menu.
"Again, I am sorry, Y/n. I can apologise to the boyfriend, if you want me to?" He was testing you, watching your reaction. He knew you didn't even have a boyfriend.
A small giggle escaped your lips, "Do you think I would be here, if I had a boyfriend? We may be fuck buddies Tommy, but two men in my life at the same time? Too complicated,"
Letting the waitress place the drinks onto the table, you took a gulp of your wine. "Fuck Buddies?" Tommy chuckled, his eyes drinking you in with seduction. "That's a new one, even to me,"
"What else would you call us? Friends with benefits?" you questioned, feeling him rest his hand on top of yours. "Acquaintances?"
"Two people getting to know each other, hopefully not for the last time, hmm? So he is not your boyfriend, ey?" Tommy wanted some reassurance that you could be his, he would work for you.
Fight for you, if he had to.
"Marcus? He is my friend, and he is gay, so you were way off there," you raised your glass to him, crossing one leg over the other. "I find it quite amusing actually, didn't see you as the jealous type, Thomas?"
That was a lie, of course. You knew he would be jealous.
Reaching underneath the table, Tommy let his fingers graze across your thigh. Slowly riding up, not breaking eye contact. "I don't like to share, Miss Y/L/N. What colour panties have you got on, ey?"
His fingers slowly crept in between your legs, passing your thigh. Pushing your chair back, you slowly uncrossed your legs. Re-crossing the opposite way, "Hot pink," You were not giving in that easily.
"Good choice," he winked, eyes drifting to your lips again.
Leaving the restaurant, you walked back to his car. Hand in hand, Tommy pausing to light a cigarette. "You want one?" he asked, offering you the packet.
"Hmm, no thanks, trying to cut down," you lied, even though the smell was enticing. Leaning against his car, you watched Tommy smoke. Closing the distance, he took a deep inhale. Pressing his lips to yours, which parted easily. Letting the smoke enter your mouth.
There was something so sexy about it. Blowing the smoke away, you shook your head. "That was sneaky, trying to corrupt me?" you asked, taking the cigarette from his hand, inhaling deeply.
His blue eyes shone in the moonlight, as he drank in your features. Observing your every move, "You don't take much corrupting, Y/n. You're a firecracker," You could smell his aftershave he was that close, see the stubble beginning to grown on his chin.
Pressing your lips to his, you repeated his actions. Blowing your smoke into his mouth. Letting his hands grip your waist, holding you tightly. His strong body pressing against your own. This man was so hard to resist.....
"Better get me home, before I turn into a pumpkin," you joked, conscious of the time. You had an early start tomorrow.
Opening the door for you, Tommy couldn't resist pecking your lips again. "Your carriage awaits Cinderella," Watching you climb in, Tommy knew he had to see you again.
Even if he had to be patient...
Tags-@kaybeeboop @cloudofdisney - @romanogersendgame @loveableasshole @goldensunflowe-r @captivatedbycillianmurphy @namelesslosers @lauren-raines-x @kathrinemelissa@datewithgianni@geminiwolves@lyarr24@ysmmsy@sixbillionpieces @morgana-olson @mysticaldeanvoidhorse@dolllol2405 @nikkialex @fictionaldemon @padfootdaredmetoo @cheekybluefox@stevie75 @american-sataness @blyanyan @peaky-cillian @cevans-winchester @shadow-hunters-lover @look-at-the-soul@livelifewondering @duckybird101 @watercolorskyy @lespendy@raychhh @dressedinpoetrysblog @cillmequick @everyonesawhore @castellandiangelo @midnightmagpiemama @thenattitude @forgottenpeakywriter @elenavampire21@angelic-kisses13 @cljordan-imperium @peakyscillian @pono-pura-vida @already-broken144 @muhahaha303 @kmc1989 @lilorphanann @amberpanda99@bernelflo@trixie23@cilloak@globetrotter28@in0320 @laylasbunbunny @lau219 @surfin-the-sun @fiokw @girlwith-thepearlearring @brummiereader@fuseburner @stilestotherescue
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My VINCENT SINCLAIR NSFW headcanons
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he likes getting kissed on the scar during sex since it's still sensitive
he draws on you was railing you
If you dare call him Vince when he is stressed he'd immediately use you to de-stress
he's extremely scared during sex in case he hurts you or bo finds out
he has a breeding kink
also wants a family so you can't be on birth control unless you don't want kids
he won't pressure you into anything you don't want to do
if you want kids expect 2 of them and if a doctor clears you he will fuck you during pregnancy but softly (and only if you are comfortable)
2 girls BTW he's a girl dad (the girls prefer him they are daddy's girls)
if you ask for a son he would not hesitate into trying to give you one
if it's a boy you are lucky since he will be a mama's boy
(back to nsfw not family stuff)
he is shy at first but soon goes feral once he is too into it
spanking
all the time
he has a wax kink (lmao)
periods don't stop him (unless you say not to)
breast man- he cans get enough
if you are chubby or fat- HE FUCKING LOVES YOU MORE
he loves fat people but skinny isn't any less to him
he loves bending you over the table
lotus position on floor or beds
he loves showering with you
even if a victim is awake in the wax figure he is still going at it
little story (what a normal morning is with his 3 kid family and you)
He watches as you breastfeed his son as his daughters were eating pancakes "you're staring vince" you laughed a bit as vincent blushed and went back to feeding his girls "don't be so shy love" you kissed his blushing cheek "t- tease" he said in his raspy voice (raspy because he barely speaks) you laughed at his shyness "oh come one love" you put your shirt back on properly and rock your son gently "well Vince isn't it that bo is coming today?" you asked and your twins (the girls) eyes brighten "uncle bo is coming?!" one of them squealed (it was a surprise how good bo was with his nieces and nephew) making Vincent shove (gently) a pancake in her mouth to shut her up
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I want him so bad
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rogueddie · 29 days
Text
Lost in You T | 1,247 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can't stop thinking about kissing him
Steve had a problem.
Or, no- Steve has a problem.
He did think it was a one off issue, something that would sort itself out if he just ignored it for a while. But, instead, it only seems to have gotten worse.
He really, really wants to kiss Eddie.
At first, he didn't think anything of his staring problem. The world was ending, people were dying, there wasn't time to worry about small things like that.
Although, even after they defeated Vecna, Steve continued to stare. He continued to dismiss it as a normal, totally platonic thing.
As Robin said; "it's almost embarrassing how long it took you to realize".
But, at the time, it had felt so normal. It still does.
Eddie's a good looking guy and Steve has eyes. Of course he's going to look at his best features. His lips just... are the one that draws his focus most of all.
He's sure that no one would blame him, either. With how full Eddie's lips are, how he tends to bite his lower lip when he's stressed, how he pouts so much when he's asking for favors, how he licks his lips whenever he looks Steve over, looking so plump and pink and-
... well. At least he knows he has a problem.
For a while, he thought that it was that simple. He had thought that he was doing a miraculous job of hiding how distracted he always gets, how he gets lost in the daydreams.
"And I know I'm boring," Eddie says, casually. "But-"
"Wait, what?" Steve interrupts, confused. "You're not boring, who said you're boring?"
"C'mon, don't lie to me, man. I know you hate how much I drone on about shit."
"No, I don't? If I didn't like hearing your rants and that then I wouldn't ask about those things."
Eddie huffs, looking always, shoulders hunching as he mutters, "coulda fooled me."
"Eds, where the hell is this coming from?"
"You don't listen to me!" He explodes. "You just- I don't know. Your fucking eyes glaze over half the time- and I know you don't care about this shit but could you at least pretend?"
"Wh- oh. Oh, no, that's... that's not because I think you're boring, I swear."
"Why then?"
"That... I don't know if I should say."
"Right," Eddie mumbles, shaking his head. He gets up, grabbing his jacket off the armchair next to him. "Of course you can't."
"Wait, where are you going?
"Away from you."
"But- I just don't get it right now. Like, I need time to figure some shit out, you know? I don't wanna tell you one thing now and then have to take it back later. You know? It's... complicated."
Eddie pauses, before slowly turning back to look at him.
"You just need time?"
"Yeah. That's it, I swear."
"And then you'll tell me what the fuck this is about?"
"Promise."
But, uncomfortable and uncertain, Eddie keeps his distance after that. He is careful to avoid group hangouts, using Corroded Coffin or Hellfire or his uncle as an excuse when needed.
He even lies about being ill one time.
It only serves to make Steve feel guilty about his own confusion. Especially considering he's no closer to figuring his mind out than he was when they spoke.
He has to get it right though. He's not sure they'd be ok if Steve assumes he wants to kiss Eddie because he wants to date him, only to later realize it's only lust.
Steve's sure that it would sting just as much to assume that it's only lust and later, when it's too late, to realize it's love.
"That sounds like a terrible idea," Lucas points out.
Out of everyone Steve thought would figure out why Steve and Eddie were so tense all of a sudden, he didn't think it would be one of the kids.
"It's the best thing I can do right now," Steve points out.
"No, it's not?" Lucas frowns at him, expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. "The best thing you can do right now is talk to him. Actually tell him why you need time. Tell him that you're worried about disappointing him."
"I'm not gonna dump all this shit on him."
"Jesus, you're worse than Mike."
"Hey-"
"He doesn't know any of this, Steve. He's probably thinking of the worst case scenario. What if he thinks you're going to kick him out the party?"
"I can't do that," Steve can't help but snort. "Even if I wanted to, I don't have that sort of authority over you brats."
"Steve! He doesn't know that! You have to talk to him, soon. He's not going to wait forever when he doesn't even know that he's supposed to be waiting or what he's waiting for!"
"But what if-"
"No."
"What?"
"I have to pick up Erica. I've told you what you should do, so do it."
Lucas makes a shooing gesture at him once he's out the car and, reluctantly, Steve turns the car around.
He heads to the trailer park.
"Hey," Eddie greets, looking him over. "You had enough time now?"
"Sort of," Steve winces. He shifts, glancing behind Eddie. "Is your uncle home? We should... talk."
"He isn't," he steps back, gesturing Steve inside.
Steve steps inside, hovering in the middle. He turns when he hears the door click shut.
"I have a problem," he blurts. "I mean, uh... Robin has always teased that I never know if I love a girl or just want... but that's- I was worried that I was, uh, maybe doing that with you? And I don't want to rush into anything or have this turn out like-"
"Woah, woah, woah. Slow down, big boy, you've already lost me. What does this," he waves his hand between them, "have to do with the girls you date?"
"Everything. Eddie, I'm not ignoring you because you're boring, I can't stop... I can't stop thinking about you."
"What?"
"You've got really nice lips, dude."
Eddie blinks at him, eyebrows disappearing behind his fringe. "What?"
"What do you mean, what? I know you like me, it's why I don't want to rush into anything and then later realize it was just, like, lust. I can't do that to you, Eds."
"So, wait, ok," Eddie waves his hands around, face scrunched and voice high. "Wait. You've known that I like you this whole time?!"
"Yeah? It's fine, I don't mind, it's no big deal."
"It's no- what the fuck, Steve!"
"Was I supposed to tell you that I knew?"
"No- or, yes- but not- ugh!"
"Whatever, ok, that's not the point! I just- I don't want you worrying and thinking this is because of anything bad. I still need time to figure this out."
"To figure out if you want to fuck me or not?"
"Oh, no, that's not a maybe, I definitely do. I just don't know if I might, like, love you too." Steve scratches his jaw, pondering on that while Eddie flails. "Well... I'm pretty sure there's a crush there at least. I don't usually get so distracted by the idea of just kissing that I check out of conversations."
"Fucking hell, Harrington, you're ridiculous."
"What-"
Eddie strides over to him, taking his face in both hands, cutting him off with a kiss.
It's barely more than a press of lips, but Steve feels alight.
It's better than his daydreams could have prepared him for.
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leeneir · 4 months
Text
Relationship; Iso x Gender Neutral!Reader Headcanons
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This is my first time posting stuff like this so idk how it fully works but I'm figuring things out🫶
These are mostly based off of what I have written for my Iso x oc ship, I'm sorry for that but take what you like💙💙🫶
Iso at first introduction isn't talkative. He's not necessarily an asshole, but he is introverted. Either you'll have to pull the first move quickly, or let him warm up to you
Very much goofy. If you have loose locks of hair, Iso will push it back and forth with his finger like a cat.
Iso LOVES food, but he's also picky. He's the type to eat his favorite food nonstop, but if there's something he doesn't like, he won't eat it. If you don't mind, he'll let you have it.
Boy is RICH. Not like presumably Chamber, but he's an infamous assassin that can kill dozens at a time. He's got money for sure. Iso will spoil you with clothes, food, items, literally anything you want he'll buy it for you. Oh, there's a really nice top you saw at the store earlier? He'll buy all the options available. (Bonus: He knows your size and preferences.)
LOVES holding you. It doesn't really mean holding you. Iso will simply put a hand on the small of your back and just keep it there while you're talking to other agents.
Iso is a jealous type but it isn't too much of an issue. He'll notice how you were extra chatty with Yoru during training or how you volunteered to help Sage the entire day and he'll get a bit annoyed that you aren't spending time with him too. Later that, he'll come into your room with a knock and literally just bury his face in your neck while keeping his arms firmly around your waist. You wouldn't see it, but he's definitely pouting.
Adding on to the last HC, Iso will stay like this with you even though your standing. If you complain that your tired, he'll simply pull away, pick you up, and carry you to your bed where he'll snuggle up to you for the next few hours.
Iso isn't open about your relationship. He's not one for PDA, the most he'll do is just place a hand on your shoulder or back. No one even knows he has feelings for you (even you earlier on). But behind closed doors, he's one big softie.
Iso has of playlists for any scenario. You're on a mission and he misses you? He's got one. You two are together and he's just staring at uou lovingly? Yup, got one for that too. Both of you are with the other agents and you're on opposite ends of the group and it feels like a slowburn friends to lovers romance? You bet. This man has playlists for a n y t h i n g .
Iso does that thing where when you're aim training and your form is a bit wrong, he'll hold you and guide you properly and intimately. There's no room between you guys.
If you get injured on a mission, Iso will beg Sage in his mother tongue to stay by you and make sure you're. He doesn't tell her about your relationship, but because he's asking in their native language, Sage has a suspicion that there's more than he's leading on. (Bonus: She's the first to figure out your relationship but is a good bro and doesn't tell.)
Iso is an artist. He's more into environmental sketching, but he'll occassionally draw you. He gets embarrassed when you find out and probably assumes you think he's a creep. Show him some TLC and reassure him that you love the drawings, it'll get you a kiss.
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Text
Stitches of love
-> bakugo x fem! Reader
-> domestic, fluff, romance, she / her
-> reader finds herself going crazy over what to get her mitsuki for motherday, little does she know she had a helping hand all along.
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"Katsuki please just give me some ideas what to get her" y/n pleaded as she rests her head in her hands. The list infront of her started back as she scratches out all her ideas so far on what to get her mother in law for her birthday. Jewellery? No she had so much, a holiday? Seems like a large present for your first year as her official daughter in law, home made jam?–
"She'd love anythin' if you gave it to 'er" Katsuki grumbles as he sips his coffee staring at y/n. They both knew he was right, y/n could give mitsuki a lump of dirt and She'd be so greatful you'd swear it was a lump of gold. But if katsuki gave it to her? He'd never hear the end of how thoughtless it was...
"What are you getting her? Surely you've ran out of ideas aswell?" Y/n rubs her face in defeat as she realises she only has 3 days to find a present. The clock is ticking, especially since you have to buy it, wrap it, and pray its good enough.
"Got her and the old man tickets to that candle lit concert in Tokyo, gotta meal for them aswell before the show" katsuki says as it's the most obvious thing ever... because everyone can afford to get expensive tickets to a private showing of the Tokyo orchestra at candlelight. Y/n huffs as she moves herself away from the table, frustrated as her plans were coming to a dead-end. Katsuki shrugs as suggests they can share the present as that wouldn't be a problem, but for y/n , she wanted her own present for her own mother in law.
"Back to the drawing board"
2 days to go
The dim lights of the lamp cascade over y/n as she tries to pull out another knott that's found its way into the ball of yarn.
"Stupid thing, why are the strings so thin–"
"Why are you still awake?" Katsuki emerges from the kitchen, peeping his head into the living room to find his wife tangled in balls of yarn, frustrated at the pattern in front of her. Who know making a blanket was so difficult?
"I can't figure the pattern out, why is knitting so hard katsu! Why do people do this to relax"
"Cuz old hags have all the time in the world to do that stuff, now get your ass to bed"
The small half-arsed square that was meant to be a blanket falls flat into y/ns lap as she realises this was another failed attempt at a present for mitsuki. The blanket would've had to of been perfect, can't give a seamstress a rag and pass it off as a blanket made out of love. What symbol would that give?
"Stupid yarn"
1 day to go
The perfect way to a person's heart is through their stomach, is that how the saying goes? Doesn't matter! Either way you found yourself 3 cakes deep into perfecting this stupid old recipe. katuki claims " the old hags loves "... but why is it so hard to master the recipe?
Many hours into baking whatever is in the oven, because there's no way you can even call the lumpy mess a 'cake'. Katsuki takes over as he cannot let anything to be made in his kitchen be considered inedible. You watched as katsuki whipped around the kitchen, making dinner and cleaning up the mess you made. What are you going to do now? The deadline is near, and you've nothing to bring to the dinner tomorrow for mitsuki?
Great way to impress your mother in law
"Listen, she won't care if you've nothin in your hands sweets, trust" Katsuki says to distract you from your storming thoughts.
"I just don't know what to do babe, I've tried so many ideas. I don't have to give up but what choice do I have–"
"Quit your ramblin and go wash up before dinner," katsuki cuts your rambles with instructions. He knows it's best to distract you if you're having working thoughts.
You make your way to the bathroom to wash up before dinner. Your head is still flooded with last minute ideas of presents to give mistuki.
"Where's all the soap gone? Why doesn't katsuki refill the container when it's empty? Typical" you say, reaching into the press to grab and refill the soap dispenser. You make a quick note of things you need to get in the shops before you go to dinner tomorrow as you're almost out of some essentials.
As you rummage through the bathroom cabinet, your fingers brush against a small, inconspicuous box tucked behind some toiletries. Curiosity piqued, you retrieved it, your heart quickening as you read the label. With a mixture of trepidation and hope, you take a gamble with this last chance of a home made present.
Birthday dinner
Mistuki has been filling yous in on her latest fashion looks she has been in the process of designing since last spring. Masaru has just set down the tea post dinner as you've all settled into the sitting room to unwind after that very tasty dinner katsuki scrubbed up. Who knew your man was so kind?
"Here's your present ma..." katsuki sheeply hands over his gift knowing his mother will make a deal out of the concert he has gotten her tickets for. You watch as mistuki stumbles over with glee as she hugs? Katsuki and thanks him. You haven't seem them hug since you had gotten married!
Masaru thanks katsuki for getting him a ticket also, placing the present aside waiting for the two blonds to settle down.
" it's something small, hope we can all share this special present" you hint towards the box you hand over to mitsuki. Katsuki looks at you knowingly you done fucked up the blanket and the cake, so what did you get her?
Mistuki opens the box to find a tiny baby blanket you had hand knitted from the rags you started with, paired with a tiny test signaling your little life growing within.
Mistuki stumbles over the test, clarifying with you that what she is reading really is coming true!
"YOUR PREGNANT?!"  She gleams as she jumps from her seat shuffling over to hug you. Katsuki looks at you with hope in his eyes, why hadn't you told him?!
"Yes , I hope this trumps katsuki present mistuki" you hug Mistuki back as masaru looks into the box reading the little note beside the blanket
"Cant wait to snuggle you in this blanket made out of love, sweat and tears,
Love, baby bakugo due 2X25"
Yep. You've finally outdone your husband in gift giving.
Now how will you out do Masarus birthday..
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What did I just write...
Ew
208 notes · View notes
solar-wing · 16 days
Text
⚣ It's Not A Competition 🥇
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⚣👊🏻 A/N → SURPRISE! double post today! I've been wanting to do a Clark Kent post forever but never had any good ideas. Then, this popped into my mind. Also, I'm really trying to clear out my drafts and any old requests. WARNINGS: Canon-Typical Violence | Jealousy | Established Relationship
⚣👊🏻 Summary → Dark Knight this and Dark Knight that. What about Superman?! He's also a great hero! Better than Batman, at least. The guy doesn't even have powers. But that's what makes him more interesting and cool, according to Y/N. And frankly, Clark has had quite enough and intends to show him why Superman is way better than Batman.
⚣👊🏻 Words → 4.7K
REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛
⚣ ENJOY 👊🏻
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Clark just didn’t get it.
Why was it that Y/N was so obsessed with Batman and not Superman? All the young reporter ever talked about was the Dark Knight and how he was so cool and mysterious. Going on and on about his awesome gadgets and the fact that he had no powers, which made him so interesting.
Clark very much would beg to differ.
“You know, Superman can shoot lasers out of his eyes, and I heard he can move faster than the speed of sound,” Clark pointed out while walking with Y/N down the sidewalk. They decided to go out for lunch and since the Daily Planet was so close to one of Y/N's favorite restaurants downtown, he figured, why not just walk together?
“Clark, not this again,” Y/N chuckled while sipping his drink.
“I’m sorry, you just always talk about how great Batman is, and I’m not saying he’s bad, but I don’t get how he’s better than Superman?”
“You know, you’re starting to sound like Lois with all your Superman praise and comparison.”
“Well, she’s not wrong. I mean, come on. What can Batman do that Superman can’t?” Clark asked, looking down at his boyfriend while waiting for an answer.
“Batman’s quicker on his feet. He thinks of solutions faster and more creatively than what I’ve seen from Superman. Plus, he’s resourceful. The guy’s got a freaking jet. The only people I could think of that own jets and planes and all the crazy gadgets he has would probably be Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne.”
Clark tried not to react to the irony of that statement, rather focusing on how he could combat that logic even though it was true. He had to admit that his comrade, whether in the field or in practice, was very good at analyzing a situation and using whatever he had around him to his advantage.
Still, it didn’t mean he was better than him.
“Well, Superman can also fly, and as many have witnessed, is crazy strong.”
“Yes, he is. But if Batman can afford a jet, I’m pretty sure he can afford a jetpack, too. Plus, we all know how strong Superman is, some more than others. Their insurance claims can definitely speak to how strong he is.”
That last line Y/N said was more so to himself than as a statement to Clark. However, it didn’t take away the slight sting from his words, considering how true they were.
“So you’re saying Superman is reckless and bad at his job or something?” Clark accused.
“What? No, I’m not saying that at all. Why are you getting so defensive about this? You’re acting as if you know the guy. Wait, do you know him?” Y/N asked, now looking up at his giant of a boyfriend.
Sometimes, he wondered what kind of genes ran in Clark’s family. It was a bit of a puzzle to Y/N why the six-foot-something man was in journalism rather than something that seemed more his speed, like fitness or athletics.
“No, of course not. I just don’t think it’s fair or even logical to compare Superman to someone like Batman, considering what each of them has respectfully achieved, not to mention the state of their cities and everything. I mean, have you ever been to Gotham before?” Clark asked, doing his best to not draw any more curiosity or suspicion out of the younger male.
Not that he was doing a good job of that in the first place.
Clark just wished he could’ve shown Y/N why Superman was better than Batman. They’d only been dating for a few months so it wasn’t reasonable or even smart for the Kryptonian to consider revealing his identity to him, no matter how much he wanted to.
“Clark, it’s not a competition. You know that, right?” Y/N said, placing his hand on Clark’s arm.
They paused in their steps, Clark looking down at the gentle hand lying across his forearm before looking up into the eyes that always put him under a spell. He smiled to himself, thinking of the fact that even if Y/N favored Batman over Superman, Clark was still the real winner, because he had him.
He took his hand in his own, doing his best to contain his excitement pulse at the feeling of his larger hand surrounding the smaller one in his grip. Y/N was still a male, so his hand wasn’t dainty or small by any means, but compared to Clark’s, it might as well have been.
“Yeah, I know. Sorry, I got a little bit crazy.” Clark apologized with a small kiss on the shorter man’s hand causing a slight blush to appear on the smaller male’s cheeks.
“It’s ok. Besides, I like a little bit of crazy. Keeps things interesting.” Y/N said before continuing their walk towards Clark’s place of work.
‘You have no idea,’ Clark thought to himself as he followed behind, letting himself be tugged along.
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They returned to the Daily Planet to find everywhere in a buzz, chattering excitedly with each other as various individuals were either running to the bathroom with pouches of makeup and skincare and others at their desks touching up their hair and clothes.
“What’s going on?” Clark asked aloud as he strode into the office while still holding Y/N’s hand.
“Was it like this when we left?” His boyfriend asked, chuckling at the comical movements and gestures of the rushing to get re-ready for whatever was happening.
“No, it was actually the opposite,” The reporter stated before eventually spotting Lois at her desk, who was also touching up her makeup and hair. He made his way over to the desk area, narrowly avoiding multiple people rushing while pulling Y/N closer to him to keep him from getting bumped into.
“Lois, what’s going on?”
“Oh, hey, Smallville. Hello, Y/N. Didn’t you both get the emergency email Perry sent to everyone earlier?” She said in her usual fast-paced, business tone while curling her eyelashes.
“No, We were at lunch. What was the email about?”
“Oh, Clark. Must I always have to save your butt?” Lois said before handing her phone over to the man, Y/N chuckling behind him at the comment.
Clark threw him a look while Y/N did his best to keep a neutral face before reading over the email.
“Bruce Wayne is coming to the Daily Planet?”
Y/N's eyes went comically large at the mention, immediately jumping to read the email for himself, “No way!”
Lois smirked to herself before grabbing her phone back from the man, while Clark just stared at his boyfriend in jealous shock from his excited outburst. “Yep. Wayne Enterprises has announced its support of various major liberal movements and is donating large proceeds to different organizations calling for massive change in the nation. And with this being an election year, many political figures and business entities are feeling a little uneasy at this sudden new support from the tech giant. And yours truly, landed the exclusive interview with him to get all the nitty and gritty details .”
Y/N’s eyes were almost bugging out of his head, before he ran to the bathroom himself, snatching his hand from Clark’s who looked desperately after him.
“Dammit, Bruce.” The reporter growled under his breath.
“You say something?” Lois asked while powdering her nose.
“No,” Clark responded gruffly, an irritated glint in his eye before walking to his own desk.
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After everyone has ridiculously made themselves extra presentable, including Y/N much to Clark’s annoyance, the pair stand outside the room with a few others, watching through the glass pane walls as the interview is broadcast live to the entire nation. Lois asked Mr. Wayne various questions, ranging from his real intentions behind his charitable donations to whether he was looking to begin any political endeavors and win the favor of the public.
Bruce answers every question with confidence and suaveness, leaving no room for questions about his actions, and denies any political motivations. Y/N watched impressed from the other end while Clark just looked around with a grim and irritated look, his arms crossed as he listened to the interview and watched his boyfriend fanboy over his secret comrade.
“Well, you certainly seem like the charming and noble benefactor, Mr. Wayne. I can see why you're known as ‘Gotham’s Favorite Son.’ I have to ask though, even if you truly have no political ambitions, aren’t you worried that these donations and announcements along with the unwavering stance you’ve taken on these political topics will inevitably place a target on you?” Lois asked, notepad and pen sitting with poise and precision, ready to take down every little thing the billionaire said.
“Wow, I can see why she’s so respected. She’s nailing this interview.” Y/N commented.
Clark nodded to that. Even if he wasn’t feeling the most agreeable at the moment, he’d always give hats off to Lois’ skills. The woman was a powerhouse when it came to this stuff.
“Well, first off, thank you for your earlier comment. I don’t think of myself as anyone’s favorite, but even I can’t control what the public says or does,” Bruce responded with his ever-so-billion-dollar smile, earning a laugh from Lois and probably every other American tuning into this broadcast, including Y/N.
Clark, however, wasn’t impressed. He’d heard funnier.
“But, to answer your question,” Bruce continued, “...any move in the business or even the political world I imagine can be considered a risky one. I’m not going to pretend that my decisions have made some very happy, and others very unhappy. That’s life. You can’t please everyone. But, to sit and accept things as the way they are for fear of retaliation or backlash is misery in itself. I believe anyone who doesn’t speak up for what they truly believe or want for fear of ‘rocking the boat’ is just content with living in their own misery. And, let me be clear before I’m canceled—I know the meaning behind that now thanks to my kids, particularly my two youngest sons—I’m not saying someone who’s genuinely content and happy with where they are is included in this. I’m specifically talking to those who want change, and want to create a better world, but are waiting for others to do it for them.”
Despite its clichéness, many in the hall gave a small clap to the CEO’s words, Y/N looking thoroughly impressed himself.
“Wow, he really is an inspiring man,” Y/N commented.
“He’s alright,” Clark said in response.
Y/N gave the taller man a suspicious side look, “Alright, what’s going on with you? You’ve been standing there pouting
since this interview started. What, do you not like Bruce Wayne or something?"
Clark sighed before looking down at his boyfriend. It was true, he wasn't really liking the guy at the moment. But, it was just because he was so jealous. He didn’t like how Y/N was looking at him, or how he was talking about him.
It wasn't fair.
The reporter wanted Y/N to be looking at him and only him like that, and he wanted his attention and affection, and he wanted him to only talk about him like that. It was petty, and it was selfish, but Clark didn’t care.
He just wanted Y/N to only admire Clark Kent. not Bruce Wayne.
Only Superman, not Batman.
Despite Y/N's earlier words about it not being a competition, Clark knew the truth. It was a competition, one he was not planning on losing.
"No, I don't not like him. I'm just not that impressed, is all. He's not a superhero." Clark said.
"Neither is Lex Luthor. But, that doesn't stop the public from making him the villain in his story. I'm sure there's a lot more to Bruce Wayne than the media is letting on."
"Oh, trust me. There's more to him than what meets the eye," Clark mumbled to himself as the interview was getting ready to wrap up.
"Well, on behalf of the Daily Planet, I'd like to thank you for joining us today. Your words are certainly ones that will not go unheard by many. I look forward to—"
Before Lois could finish speaking, the lights in the building suddenly went out, leaving the office pitch black. A few people in the hall gasp, Y/N instinctively grabbing Clark's arm, who in turn places his hand over the smaller man's own.
"What's going on?" Someone asks.
"I don't know. It's almost like a blackout, but it can't be because we have backup generators. They should've turned it on by now." Another responded.
"Clark, what's going on?" Y/N asked toward his boyfriend, who was holding the smaller male closer to him out of instinct.
"I'm not exactly sure..."
Just as he said that, the lights came back on, and everyone was looking around confused as to what the source of the blackout was.
"Oh my god!" One of the people in the hall screamed suddenly as everyone turned back towards the interview room. Inside the room, some members of the crew suddenly had masks with insignias covering their faces on them. One of them was behind Lois holding a dagger to her neck while another stood to the side, pointing a gun directly at Bruce's head.
"I'm so sorry to interrupt, Ms. Lane," The individual in the middle of the room said, "But, this interview isn't over just yet."
"Who the hell are you people?!" Lois asked, fear and anger in her eyes as the blade was held to her neck.
"Wouldn't you like to know? As for Mr. Wayne, we're going to have a little chat. I suggest you and your friends don't follow or intervene. Otherwise, this broadcast won't be the only thing getting cut" The masked individual threatened, nodding to Lois.
"Don't you dare touch her," Bruce warned, his expression serious, as he got ready to stand.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Wayne. We wouldn't want anything bad to happen, now would we? Especially with all of America watching right now."
Bruce sat back down, knowing that his opponent was right. He couldn't let them hurt Lois, and he certainly couldn't risk any lives in this room.
"Don't worry, Mr. Wayne. We'll make this quick," The leader said as one of the other masked goons went to lock the door that led inside the interview room.
"Clark, we have to do something," Y/N said, his heart racing a mile a minute.
"I know. Stay here. I'll be back." Clark said before running off, leaving the smaller male alone.
"What? Clark, wait! Where are you going?" Y/N called after him, but the taller man didn't hear him, already too far away.
'What the hell is he doing?' Y/N thought to himself before turning his attention back towards the situation in front of him.
As Clark rounded the corner and made his way down the hallway, he made sure no one was watching him before he ran as fast as he could into the supply closet. Once inside, he quickly changed into his suit before taking off through the backdoor.
"So, how does it feel knowing that you're on the side of the wrong? How does it feel knowing that no matter what you do, you'll never be able to fix the mess you made? All the lives lost because of you," The masked man asked Bruce, who was sitting calmly in his chair, his eyes not showing an ounce of fear.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't. None of you wealthy elites do. You don't know the pain and suffering your companies and your products cause to others. You don't know the misery you cause. Well, allow us to show you." The man said before signaling his partners.
One of them immediately moved and grabbed a hold of the camera, pointing it directly at the masked man in the center.
"Hello, Metropolis. And hello, America. If you're watching this, that means you're just as much a part of this as we are. if you've been sitting here listening to the lies and promises of a better world by this man and his kind, you are as much a part of his schemes as he is. It is because of people like him that we have the world we live in. It's because of people like him that so many of us suffer. It's because of people like him that the world will only continue to rot and decay until there is nothing left but a pile of ashes. But, we will not be the ones who burn. We will not be the ones who lose. We will not be the ones who suffer, not anymore. Today, we fight back. Today, we will show the world that we will not be silenced, we will not be oppressed. We will not allow the likes of him and his kind to continue to control us anymore with false promises of a better tomorrow while lining their own pockets. Today, we say enough is enough. Today, we rise. Today, we will take back what is rightfully ours. Today, we take back our freedom and our lives from the rich and corrupt." The man spoke, his words filled with conviction and determination, but also hatred and poison as he stared deep into the camera.
"And if any of you try to stop us, then you will be considered just as guilty as the rest of them. We will not be silenced. We will not be ignored. And if you think that the likes of Batman and Superman will save you, I wouldn't be too sure of that..."
As soon as the leader was done with his speech, the sound of the glass shattering was heard as Superman broke through the windows, flying into the room before stopping directly in front of the man holding the camera.
"But, I am..." The Man of Steel said, shooting a laser beam at the dagger being held by the goon threatening Lois. He immediately dropped the blade as it became too hot, giving the Daily Planet reporter the opportunity she needed to escape his hold.
"Bastards," She cursed, turning around and delivering a kick to the masked man's groin.
He groaned out in pain, falling to the floor before Lois punched him in the face, knocking him out.
Superman turned his attention back toward the masked man standing in the center, "I believe it's time for you to take a hike."
"Not yet. We still have unfinished business," The man said before signaling his other henchman. The man immediately aimed his gun at the Kryptonian, firing shot after shot into him.
Superman stood his ground as the bullets hit him, before eventually, the gun ran out.
"You're right. This is definitely the end," Superman said as he flew toward the man, knocking him out before he could reload his gun.
As Superman finished off the last of the henchmen, the leader turned back towards the camera, "Sorry, Superman. But, the damage has already been done. I hope you enjoyed this little taste of what's to come."
Before the Kryptonian could stop him, the man took out a smoke bomb, throwing it onto the ground and covering the room in a cloud of smoke.
"Crap," Superman cursed, unable to see as the man escaped.
As the smoke began to clear, Bruce took out his phone, "Alfred, I need you to track this signal."
"Understood, sir. I've also informed the police and they're on their way," Alfred responded.
"Good," Bruce said before turning back towards the room.
The actual camera crew was not out in the hall, hugging their co-workers who were all relieved at their safety. The broadcast was cut from the air, but there was no doubt every TV station from here to San Francisco was talking about it. Y/N was standing nearby, his eyes filled with awe and admiration as he stared up at Superman.
There was something oddly familiar about him.
...
Nah.
"That was incredible, Mr. Wayne," Lois said.
"I could say the same thing about you. I'm glad you're ok."
Lois smiled at him, "You were worried about me?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Bruce asked, a small smile forming on his lips.
Lois blushed slightly before turning back to look at Superman, who was now standing right in front of the two.
"Thank you for the save, Superman," Lois said, extending her hand out to the Kryptonian.
"My pleasure," Superman said, shaking the woman's hand before his attention was drawn toward Bruce who just gave him an appreciative nod. Though the look in his eyes signaled they would definitely be communicating about things later.
As Bruce and Lois moved towards the hallway, Lois spotted Y/N who was standing close to the door peeking inside.
"Oh Y/N, there you are! Thank goodness, you're alright." Lois said, walking over to him and hugging him.
"Yeah, I'm ok. Are you?" He asked, looking up at the woman.
"I'm fine. I'm tougher than I look."
"That's good to hear. And, it's good to see you’re okay as well Mr. Wayne. That was scary." Y/N said, turning his attention to the billionaire.
"Yes, I'm glad I'm alright, too," Bruce said, his attention on Y/N.
"Oh, Bruce Wayne, this is Y/N L/N. He's one of our upcoming new reporters along with Clark Kent, who you've met before." Lois said, introducing the two.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne," Y/N said, extending his hand out.
Bruce took it, giving the younger man a firm handshake, "The pleasure is all mine."
As the two looked at each other, Clark was standing nearby, his gaze focused on the two, his fists clenched.
'I swear to Rao...' He thought to himself, jealousy coursing through his body as he watched the two interact.
"So, Mr. Wayne, what do you think that was all about?" Y/N asked.
Bruce turned to look at the woman, an amused eyebrow raised, "He must be getting trained by you," He said, sparking a laugh from Lois and another eye roll from the Kryptonian before flying off, "And please, call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne makes me feel old."
"Bruce, then. What do you think that was all about?" Y/N asked again.
"Well, I can't be certain, but based on their words and their actions, I'd say they were a group of anarchists."
"Anarchists?"
"Yes. They're not an uncommon group. Many people are growing tired of the way things are in this country. With the state of the economy and the government, it's only a matter of time before things begin to boil over."
"So, you think this is going to happen more often?"
"I'm not sure. But, I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of them."
Y/N nodded his thoughts on the events that had transpired earlier.
"Y/N!" Clark called, interrupting the conversation.
"Clark, there you are! You had me worried sick," The smaller male said while hugging his boyfriend, missing the sharp look the taller man was throwing at the billionaire.
"I just went to alert the building security and the police. Seems everything turned alright though since Superman showed up," Clark said, wrapping an arm around the younger man's waist while still giving a side eye to Bruce who was watching with amusement.
"Yes, thank goodness he did. I'm sure we all owe him a huge thanks for his services."
"Yes, indeed we do. But, unfortunately, I must be going now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N." Bruce said, extending his hand once more to the younger man, who took it, shaking it gently.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, too."
Bruce smiled at him before turning back to Lois, "And it was a pleasure seeing you again, Lois."
"Likewise, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce smirked, "I do believe we're a bit past the formalities now, Lois. Please, call me Bruce."
"Of course. Bruce." The woman replied, her tone flirty and her expression coy.
Y/N noticed this and turned to look at Clark, whose expression was blank as he looked on.
"Will do, Lois. I look forward to our next meeting," Bruce said before stopping in front of Clark.
"Good seeing you as well Clark, as short-lived as it was," Bruce said, extending his hand out for a handshake.
Clark reluctantly took it, the handshake lasting longer than was necessary.
"Likewise," Clark replied.
Bruce nodded, his eyes giving the reporter a knowing look before he was escorted out by security.
Once the billionaire was out of sight, Clark and Y/N decided to leave as well, making their way towards the elevator.
"Well, that was a crazy day," Y/N said.
"Yeah, tell me about it."
"Do you think Bruce Wayne knows Batman?"
Clark stopped mid-step, a shocked expression on his face as he looked down at his boyfriend.
"Are you serious right now? You can't be serious?" The taller man said with an indignant expression.
"What?"
"You're still thinking of Batman after Superman just came and saved everyone?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, he's a hero too. They both are. Besides, Superman is always getting most of the credit, don't you think? It would make sense if they were working together. You know, the world's greatest detective and the world's greatest hero, solving crime and catching the bad guys. Wouldn't that be so cool?" Y/N asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement at the thought.
"No, not really. I don't see why that would be a good idea," Clark said, rolling his eyes.
Y/N sighed, "Clark, remember what we talked about earlier about it not being a competition?"
Clark looked down at the smaller man, his eyes filled with frustration, "Yeah, but it doesn't mean you have to obsess over Batman. Superman is just as obsessed-worthy!"
"Clark, seriously, what is up with you? It's not like I want to marry him or something."
"You're acting like you want to," Clark mumbled under his breath.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Look, Clark. I'm not going to say I'm not a fan of Batman. I mean, I think he's cool. But, that doesn't mean that I'm not a fan of Superman either. I'm a fan of both of them. I think they're both great heroes, and I think they both do good work."
"But, you don't think that Batman is cooler, or that he's better than Superman?" Clark asked, his expression pleading.
"I mean, I guess. But, why does that matter? Why are you so hung up about this?"
"Because, I—" Clark started before stopping, knowing he was about to give away his identity.
"You what?"
"I just want you to think of me, is all," Clark said, looking down at the ground, feeling a bit embarrassed.
Y/N's heart softened at the confession, the older man looking like a little kid who just got his favorite toy taken away. He stepped forward, cupping the taller man's face in his hands, causing him to look up.
"Clark, I do think about you. I think about you all the time and I love how protective you are of me. Whether I like Batman or Superman more isn't going to change that" Y/N said, trying his best to ease his boyfriend's fears.
"Promise?" Clark asked.
Y/N chuckled, "I promise."
"Good," Clark smiled while leaning down to place a kiss against his boyfriend's lips, "You should still like Superman more."
Y/N rolled his eyes, "Sure thing, Clark. I'll work on that."
"Thank you."
"Whatever. Now come on, we now have a celebratory date to go on." Y/N said as he grabbed Clark's hand.
"What are we celebrating?" Clark asked with a laugh as he was pulled towards the elevator.
It was always adorable watching the smaller male pull Clark around like it was nothing.
"Surviving our first criminal encounter together," Y/N said while hitting the first-floor button.
"First?"
"Honey, we live in a city with sky-high insurance because a superhero lives here. You really think this will be the last?"
He definitely doesn't.
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☀️ | Clark Kent/Superman | ☀️
☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️
247 notes · View notes
loveliestlovelygirl · 2 months
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one of his girls
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finnick odair x gn!reader
synopsis: stuck in a long elevator ride with finnick odair himself, he promises to save you a dance at the capitol party. with him, you become the center of attention instantly. the guests watch in envy, most of them wishing they were you. but finnick has his own motives for his pursuit of you.
w.c: 2.2K+
highlights: {minors dni} dark content, implied sex trafficking, alcohol, capitol party, social hierarchy, sexual content, lack of aftercare
Finnick’s suit jacket is navy but darker. Something like a midnight blue. The fabric is shiny, so shiny that you can faintly see your reflection on his bicep.
“Pretty.”
Startled that he would speak to you or even notice that you were standing beside him. You are a nobody compared to him. “T-thank you,” you stutter. His voice is enticing in a way. Not deep. But unapologetically masculine and yet soft at the same time. It haunts you. Any reply you could fathom would be but nonsense.
He chuckles. His smile is big. “Oh, I meant my suit.”
Suddenly, the elevator you are riding in together seemed even smaller. You can’t escape your embarrassment. It suffocates you entirely. Completely mortified by your assumption, you hang your head to hide your building tears. Why do I have to be such an idiot!
The hundreds of people at the party above would kill to be in this elevator with him. And you choose to act a fool.
When Finnick turns your way, you glance up just enough to really view his outfit. His shirt is made from a sheer black fabric, and his jacket is left open. You can see every ripple along his abdomen. You curse yourself for noticing.
“You are too though.” He leans down a bit to meet your eyes. “I just like this suit, don’t you?”
“Yes, it… becomes you.”
Finnick gives you a satisfied smirk. “Ah, my first compliment of the night.”
You cover your mouth to laugh. “I’m sure you’ll be drowning in them by the end.”
“If only that weren’t true,” he notes, leaning against the back wall. “It’s hard being loved by all.”
You laugh again. While everyone goes on and on about his incomparable beauty, they’ve never mentioned his humorous side. But you wonder if maybe there is some truth to his statement. Maybe he doesn’t like being in the limelight so often. He’s always a main attraction at Capitol parties. Everyone tries to go home with him.
You admire Finnick’s makeup. The coal liner that brings out his green eyes. And the gold flecks on his pink cheeks, matching his golden hair. “You really do look pretty, Finnick,” you say to him.
He nods. “I have to. The scandal I would cause if I were underdressed. You know me, always the attention whore.” He says that with a hint of disgust that maybe he didn’t intend for your ears.
The elevator comes to a stop before you have a chance to ask what he meant by that. Finnick waves to you.
“I’ll save you a dance, darling.”
Everyone fiercely fights for Finnick’s attention through the batting of eyelashes, assaulting him with compliments, and insincere kisses to his golden cheeks. You watch him accept their adoration with gracious elegance that only he has. When they flirt with him, he flirts back flawlessly, without skipping a beat. From this outside view it seems to come so naturally to him. It looks like he thrives when he’s adored. Most people wouldn’t know how to handle the attention. They would suffocate from the weight of it all. But not Finnick Odair. You figure he’s seen so much in his life that nothing phases him. Nothing at all.
While he’s in the center of the room, you draw near to the sidelines. You nibble at the food and sip white wine. Finnick has been too busy the entire night entertaining guests that he has no time for enjoying a meal. You hope he ate before.
From the dessert bar, you watch him dancing with a loudly dressed man with green hair. The way their bodies move together is fluid. Finnick can dance. In fact, he’s very skilled with the way he controls his partner all in the rhythm of the music. Perhaps your envy causes you to avert your gaze, and you walk around to the opposite side of the bar so that you no longer have to watch. You know that your encounter in the elevator meant nothing to Finnick. His calling you pretty means nothing. He flirts with everyone he can.
You lose yourself to chocolate and your self-effacing thoughts. And you don’t notice when he sneaks up behind you. When Finnick’s hand touches your shoulder, you nearly jump.
“Hello, Finnick,” you mutter, not turning to look at his face.
“I noticed you were watching me.”
You shrug. “Everyone was. He seems… fun.”
“I don’t care about everyone.” He steps around you and wedges himself between you and the bar. “Are you…” he leans in, staring at you suspiciously, “jealous?”
“Of him?” you balk at his presumptuousness. “You—”
“He’s obsessed with me,” Finnick scoffs. “And I hate him. But…” his lips ghost your ear, “he’s close to our beloved president.” He steps away from you after he says that. “But that’s just between you and me.”
A little stunned that he would share a private detail of his affairs with you, you’re caught at a loss for words. “I have no one to tell.”
His fingers slip between yours. “Don’t you? You frequent these gatherings.”
Quickly, you remove your hand from his. “My mother insists that I make an appearance. She’s working on marital arrangements for me as we speak.”
Finnick nods. “I see. I suppose it was a little self-assured for me to believe you came for me.”
“Plenty do.”
Turning his face toward the crowd, he watches them dance and laugh, drink and eat. “It’s true. They know they might get something from me.”
“Your reputation precedes you.”
He looks back to you and centers his gaze upon your eyes. “You don’t act like them. You don’t gorge yourself on extravagant pleasures as they do. You’re not from the Capitol, are you?”
You shake your head. “No. I’m from a lesser district. I was adopted.”
“I pity you. You would have been better off back home.” Finnick reaches behind you and grabs a drink. He leans back to swallow. “I count down the days until I can go back to mine. But… it’s uncertain when I will be allowed to go back.”
You look at him quizzically. “Allowed?”
He smiles cheekily, acknowledging that you heard him correctly. He means for you to know that. “You should dance with me,” he says, abruptly changing the subject. He grabs your wrist with his big hand, his grip so strong that you could never overpower his might. His strength is god-like, a formidable weapon in a fight. But with you… he uses his strength gently.
There is no use denying him his wishes. Finnick pulls you along to the middle of the dance floor where you both quickly become the center of attention. The faces that never bothered to give you a second glance are staring at you unashamedly. But it’s all because of the man who holds you in his arms.
They’re jealous of you… for once.
Finnick leads you in the dance, both arms about your waist and holding you close to him. His cologne warms your senses. His scent is potent and tempting, and you only wish to get closer to him. But with where you stand right now, that’s quite impossible without taking off all your clothes.
You hold onto his neck as you sway to the beat of melody filling the room. He moves your body in time with his. You follow his lead completely. Being in the spotlight magnifies every flaw you can conceive of for everyone to see and tease you for. The blinding light of Finnick’s stardom no doubt makes it worse. No one looks pretty standing beside him.
You press your face against his suit jacket to hide yourself. You can’t take it anymore, looking all around the room and seeing all those judgmental expressions directed toward you. Holding onto Finnick keeps your grounded. He makes you feel safe. As you dance you begin to understand why so many obsess over his attention. Regardless of whether or not it is genuine, it feels that way. Every touch, every look feels real. And it makes you crave more. More of him. And it’s disgusting how quickly he’s made you harbor lustful feelings towards him.
Every time he looks down at you with his mesmerizing gaze, he gives you fuck me eyes. Every single time.
Like now.
You pull at the collar of his jacket and giggle. “Finnick… you can’t look at me like that.”
He lifts your chin. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do.” His tone is playfully cautious.
“You might make me fall—” you stop, shaking your head, backing away one step to put distance between your bodies.
“That’s the point, sweetheart. Tonight. I’m all yours.” He pulls you back in a spin, leans in close to your ear, lips grazing. “A favor you might… repay one day.”
“What kind of favor are you asking for?” You can’t believe you’re considering his offer. But there’s something about him. How can you resist the pull? You’re only human.
“I know who you are. I know you have a house in your district 7. I need a haven and transportation to the location. Until the storm blows over.” Finnick tells you these things with a big smile on his face.
“Storm? What storm?”
“I’m leaving the capitol. Very soon. You’re the last piece of the puzzle.”
You laugh at him as if he’s crazy. “Why would you want to leave the Capitol, Finnick? You can have everything you want.”
He turns serious for a moment. “I don’t want everything. I just want to go home. I have a connection in your district.”
“Okay,” you say. “I can make arrangements for you.”
Pulling you in closer, Finnick’s eyes drift over your lips. “So shall we head upstairs?”
You interlace your fingers in his and give him a nod. This is not how you expected the evening to turn out. Not at all. Your little interaction with Finnick in the elevator wasn’t meant to lead to this. But he pursued you… and his reasons are clear to you now.
When you’re alone with him in one of the upstairs rooms designated for illicit activities, you look around the four walls that surround you. You’re here while they’re stuck beneath you. You’re where the rest of them long to be.
Alone with Finnick Odair.
He pours you a drink and brings it to you. You sip at the sour liquid while he watches you.
“Look into my eyes, sweetheart.” He’s looking into yours, his irises almost as dark as emeralds in the dim lighting. Rolling back his shoulders, his suit jacket hits the floor. You see his skin through his sheer shirt. You’re sure that’s the point of it. He wants people to look at his body.
It worked on you. Easily.
Under the glitzy chandelier, crystal droplets catch the light and enhance his glow. Finnick slowly reveals himself to you, undressing to please you. The darkness in his eyes is alluring, and it draws you to him. The low lights, the incense burning, and the alcohol in your hand are meant to seduce you, as if having Finnick all to yourself is somehow not enough.
His expensive clothes are left behind when he approaches you. His long arm pulls you close, and he holds you against him, his body warm and comforting.
“My drink,” you say, “it spilled.”
Finnick takes the glass from your hand and drinks what’s left. His adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. He tosses the glass somewhere, and it lands in a crash.
“Someone will clean that up,” he notes, taking both your hands and leading you across the room. “Just focus on your desires.” He grins ear to ear. “Focus on me.”
With the way he looks tonight, that’s the easiest thing in the whole world. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you throw yourself into his arms, and Finnick gracefully catches you. And for the first time, you share a kiss with him, two worlds colliding for a moment and an eternity all at once. You feel hazy in wonder. The maneuvering of his mouth pulls and demands the greatest pleasure from you. Never have you been kissed this way before. From the rumors you have heard, few rival Finnick Odair as a lover.
Together, you collapse on the sofa, your body on top of his, your lips never breaking contact. You kiss him all over his face, leaving lipstick prints on his cheeks and forehead. Finnick turns swiftly and pulls you under him, holding you down with his bodyweight and warmth. His skin against yours feels so right somehow, despite the situation. The excitement sparks across your skin, every place he touches with his hands, his fingers, and his mouth as he sucks on the pulse point of your neck.
He unzips the back of your outfit and traces down the ridges on your spine. At the same time, you pause to gaze into the other’s eyes. In that moment, you know you’re thinking the same thing, and soon you find yourself tangled in silken bedsheets.
You’re naked under him. This is the first time you’ve been intimate with someone you barely know. But you feel safe with him. He’s gentle, warming you up first before he truly makes a move. It’s skin on skin, two beating hearts, nails digging into flesh and leaving red marks. The echoes of his smooth voice reverberating in your ears, over and over. Over and over. When he’s inside you, you suddenly discover an insatiable side to your own desires. Passion takes over your body, and you can’t get enough of him and the little freak he’s unraveling in your soul.
The bed shakes and creaks, and in a fleeting glance, you look out from under him, you wondering if the pictures on the wall would crash down over you.
You grasp at his skin, the sheets, the headboard, in attempt to hold out, to let this last a little longer. To enjoy him because it’s unlikely that, once he makes his escape, you’ll see him again. Not like this, at least.
You cry when it hits. That rush, crashing into you like a wave. Finnick backs off soon after, giving you space. You’re not even sure if he felt the same.
You lie there for a long time, just staring up at the ceiling. And eventually he leaves you without another word or loving touch. You know that this was all a favor, but you can’t help but fall a little for him. Everyone does.
But you’re just one of his girls. A means to an end.
add yourself to my taglist!! @jaanefitoor @minniluvs @parkersvogue @marvelxhrry @motherphoebe @marcyss @hasalazzo @shaysevxx @miserablebl00d @junoxstevens @heroinhchicblog222 @hoslunix @ellenonesblog @theycantseeus @arxtixmonkeysxxx @lingerologist @mistyyrooms @scoliobean
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gloomwitchwrites · 2 months
Text
Hand Necklace (3 of 4)
Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader
Content & Warnings: wall sex, floor sex, clothes ripping, rough sex, possessive / protective Simon, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), mating press, established relationship
Word Count: 940
A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series
Simon's possessive nature takes over.
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // hand necklace masterlist
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When the key slides into the lock, and you hear the familiar click of the deadbolt, you sigh with relief.
The rain is coming down in sheets, and you’re soaked, the black cocktail dress you’re wearing nothing more than a limp rag. You step inside the apartment you share with Simon, shivering slightly once you’re through the door. When the door shuts, you check the locks. It’s a habit Simon has drilled into your head time and time again.
Groaning, you reach down to take off a heel, wanting to be out of these fucking torture devices. The moment your gaze flicks upward from the floor, you freeze, noticing the figure standing at the end of the short entrance hallway.
“Simon?”
He steps into the small slash of moonlight that somehow—impossibly—comes through the tiny window at the very top of the front door. Simon is without his balaclava but there is still some smudged eye black, as if he couldn’t wash it all away. Other than that, Simon is in his casual clothes: black joggers, black socks, and a black t-shirt that stretches tightly over his muscles.
“Have fun?” he asks. Simon’s tone is flat, and usually that means he’s up to something.
“You already know the answer. Probably watching me instead of playing games with Soap on Discord,” you tease, aware that you’re pushing his buttons.
Simon is notorious for knowing your every step and breath. It’s haunting just how precise he is on exactly where you are and what you’re doing at all times. Most people might call that overbearing or even obsessive, but it only makes you feel safe. It means Simon is always there, and you can rely on him to come for you when you need him the most.
He starts taking slow, precision-laced steps toward you. “I watched you, and played with Johnny. That’s what having two screens is for.” The tips of his fingers brush against the bit of exposed bare thigh. “Did anyone touch what’s mine? Do I need to cut off some hands?”
“Stop that, Simon,” you chide, smacking his solid chest, only to grimace and shake your hand with how fucking hard his pectorals are. The man is a goddamn wall.
“No hands? What about throats?” Those fingers that are only grazing against you become a full, warm palm. Simon’s fingers dig into your flesh, and he uses that leverage to draw you even closer to him.
“You know it’s never that serious,” you murmur.
Simon’s answer is a low growl as he grabs the front of your neck and pushes you up against the wall. He traps you with his body, creating a cage you cannot escape from. He is so large like this, and it only sends your body into a heated tingle, the place between your thighs warming with need.
With a swiftness that steals your breath, Simon slides his free arm behind the backs of your thighs, lifting and pinning you against the wall. Your legs part easily, wrapping around his middle. Your arms go up and lock behind his neck. The black cocktail dress you wear has nowhere to go expect up, collecting at your waist, exposing your pussy to him.
“You’re not wearing underwear,” growls Simon.
You smirk, and reach down between your bodies, pushing down the elastic band of his black joggers until his cock is free. Simon is already hard, and he groans when you palm him.
“I like to make it easy for you,” you tease, smiling softly.
Simon’s next move is anything but soft. He drops his hand from your neck to adjust his grip, moving both hands to your hips. You’re truly pinned to the wall, unable to go anywhere. Simon knows this, and he lines the head of his cock up to your entrance, thrusting forward in one swift buck of his hips.
“Oh—Fuck!” you cry out, immediately clenching around him.
“Dirty. Fucking. Girl,” grunts Simon between each thrust.
He is relentless, fucking you until the photographs on the wall shake and fall off their mounts, clattering to the floor. Simon buries his face in your neck, nips at your skin, and then guides you away from the wall, bouncing you on his cock as he stands there.
“Simon,” you moan, urging him to take this elsewhere. “Bedroom.”
“No. I’m fucking you right here.”
Simon guides the two of you down to the floor. His cock slides out of you as you lay flat on your back. You start to reach for him, but Simon only grabs at your dress, fingers curling at the neckline.
“Sorry, love,” he says before ripping the dress right down the middle. “Can’t wait.”
You’re too shocked to say anything because Simon is pushing your legs up toward your chest, baring down on the backs of your thighs only to slide home again. Simon does not use the floor but your throat as his anchor.
Both of his hands slide up your body and grab hold, truly keeping you against the floor. Simon’s grip is strong but not enough to steal your breath. You’re utterly dominated, and it’s fucking amazing.
Simon’s pace is relentless, hitting deep, claiming every bit of your pussy for himself. This always happens when you come home. He has to mark and reclaim every single inch of your body. And fuck—he’s doing exactly that, groaning above you with each thrust.
“Who do you belong to, love?”
“You.”
“Say my fucking name.” Simon snaps his hips forward, stills and slowly grinds his pelvis against your clit until your body quivers.
“You, Simon. Always you.”
“Goddamn right.”
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trashmouth-richie · 3 months
Text
𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰
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its absolutely miserable here rn but i enjoy writing these little winter stories so have another,
“why? why do we live here?”eddie grumbles, rubbing his red chapped hands together and blowing on them. 
the indiana wind blew hard against the windows, rattling the screen door and creating a draft that seemed to keep the trailer at a crisp 65°.
wool socks and long johns weren’t enough to keep him warm, the thick flannel he’d had since forever was threaded to the very top, his throat tight against the suffocating button. 
“ ‘t’s where the horses died, i guess.” wayne chuckled, cricketing his feet together as he lounged back in his squeaky worn recliner. 
the small space heater glowed angry red, drawing more electricity from the trailer. 
“get that van started up?” wayne asks around the mouth of a pabst. 
eddie flicks his lighter open and shut in a habitual manner, “didn’t want to, but finally gave in,” plopping down next to the heater to warm the apples of his cheeks, he lets out a small sigh of relief from his chattering teeth. 
wayne grunts in approval and they sit in comfortable silence. the howling wind keeping melody with the lonesome whistling of the ceiling vents, the garfield wall clock adding a chimed staccato. 
every business in town was closed. the gas stations, the diner— the weather man called for people to stay home: no travel advised. but healthcare didn’t operate around the weather.
his watch beeped at 9:45PM and he figured the van would be good and warm by now. 
“alright, i’m headin’ out,” he called to wayne as he shoved his arms through the cool leather and begrudgingly shoved a stocking cap on his head. 
wayne gave him a solemn look, “you be damn careful.”
eddie grinned his cheshire pearls, “always.” 
-
the steel door by the back entrance had a small window facing the parking lot. your co workers all had gone once the other shift had shown up to start their nightly duties of rounding on patients and stocking supplies. 
trisha asked if you needed a ride but you waved her off, “he’ll be comin’” 
you worried the snow might have been too deep for his van to handle, maybe it didn’t start at all? maybe the electricity went out in the trailer park?
 the nails on your hand suffered between your teeth as your brain concocted more and more things to worry about. things that could go wrong. 
but not long after a single headlight broke through the tree line and there he was, lining up with the sidewalk as close as he could without actually driving onto it. 
with one deep and ragged warm breath, you braved the weather. the snow scraping against your face in icy claws of unforgiving cold. wind whipping the starchy fabric of your nursing assistant scrubs this way and that. 
the dome light brightens as he climbs out from the van opening your door before you could reach for it yourself. a winced smile on his lips when he sees your chilled face. 
“get in baby,” 
he shuts your door and your fingers begin to thaw against the vents in eddie’s van, the warm comforting smell of rich tobacco and hints of weed engulf your senses. the smell of him singing a song to your soul. 
his door opens and shuts tight and he’s chattering his teeth loudly before grabbing your hands and kissing heat into them. 
“missed you,” he murmurs, “how was work?” 
“long…busy,” a barking cough creeps from your lungs and tightens your chest, “glad it’s over,” you say weakly, reaching for his hand and threading it between yours, “i switched shifts with diane so i have to be back at six.”
eddie’s eyebrows furrow into worry but he hides his concern. that place worked you like a mule, they didn’t care how bad the weather was or if you were sick… and he hated them for it. you looked exhausted, the normal glow to your skin was dusted over with whatever virus you were currently fighting.. but eddie knew there was no use trying to tell you to take it easy for once. 
“alright sweetheart, i can take you, wanna stay at mine tonight or go back to your place?” 
the small home you rented with your childhood best friend jonathan and his girlfriend, leah was on the outskirts of hawkins. and since your landlord was jonathan’s mom the rent was dirt ass cheap. the hopper’s residing in a desolate cabin owned by the chief. 
winter was rough this year and between eddie’s long hours at the factory that  didn’t seem to slow down, and your irregular shifts at the nursing home, you didn’t get to see much of your boyfriend, “stay with me?” 
-
the tv was blue when your key finally busted through the locks and you wedged your way inside. leah and jonathan both asleep, curled into one another on the oversized couch. 
tracking snow in, you and eddie toe off your shoes gingerly trying to avoid the unwelcome surprise of wet snow on your socks.
“i fucking hate snow,” eddie mutters hanging up both of your coats. 
“oh cmon, mr grinch, “ you tease with a small smile after hacking up another cough, “you don’t like how pretty it makes everything look?” 
“hard to look cool in this damn thing,” he says tossing the black stocking cap onto your counter, his hair a mess of kinky curls, frizzing into oblivion. 
“well,” you say, running your hands up his chest and around his neck, “i think you look cute.” 
eddie rolls his eyes and you scoff before he dives into your lips and kisses you loud and obnoxious. erupting giggles from you as his icy hands work themselves beneath the hem of your shirt. 
the laughing as your cough acting up again and eddie places a palm to your forehead worry etched into his eyes, you look back at him, “would the heat miser like a hot toddy?” 
eddie rubs his thumb into a circle pattern on your back. fuck he adores you.
“i’ll make ‘em, you go take a hot shower, alright? you feel sick.” 
you roll your eyes, “i’m not sick,” you garble through a coughing fit, “’m just sleepy.” 
“sure, sure, whatever you think.” 
when you’re dressed into pajamas and a long robe, eddie is stripped down to his long johns and the band shirt you liked to hold hostage at your house. your room is set up like a picnic, pb&’s and a twinkie to wash down the hot liquor. 
“pretty much a gourmet chef,” eddie says, licking peanut butter from his thumb, “i even ate your crusts for you.”
“my knight in shining armor,” you muse and eddie takes an exaggerated bow.
he sits crossed legged on your bed, “let’s eat i know your hungry,” 
eddie’s idea of a hot toddy is warm tea with double the amount of whiskey. yours he made sweet with some honey but his is kept straight and burning with whiskey. 
a light buzz clouds your head by the time you finish your drink and the exhaustion settles into your bones, the cough loosened a bit with your hot shower but now your sinuses were filled and you were only breathing from your mouth. 
“lay down baby, i’ll be right back.” 
eddie flicks off the light and sets the plate into the sink, jonathan is standing in the kitchen warming a a pot of milk on the stove. 
“that you coughing munson or her?” 
eddie finds the crinkly pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his jacket and pulls one out for himself and jonathan. 
“me? nah, she’s sicker than a dog.” 
jonathan stirs the milk and takes the cigarette from eddie’s offering hand, “leah and i had something like that last week, probably just something going around” 
the two smoke openly in the kitchen, both deciding it’s too cold to go outside. jonathan stirs the hot milk into the waiting mugs with chocolate powder, cigarette and spoon swirling in a dance of smoke and clanking ceramic. 
“there’s some vicks in the bathroom if you need it,” jonathan says, stubbing out his cigarette into the nearest ashtray, balancing the mugs in each fist, “ tell her to take a day off for christ sakes.” 
“yeah that’ll go over well.” 
they both chuckle knowing just how stubborn you are and jonathan disappears into his bedroom. flicking out the lights, eddie follows the hall to your room and sneaks inside, laying down next to your burning up body and sweat slicked forehead. 
he pulls you into him and you groan with the uncomfortable delirium from your fever. 
“eddie?” you whisper into his chest, fisting his shirt into your palms, “it doesn’t snow in arizona.” 
“you’re right princess,” eddie says pressing his lips to your fevered head, “it doesn’t.” 
you snuggle deeper into him, and speak a barely audible “let’s move there.” before you fall into a deep sleep. 
when morning comes and the wind hasn’t died down, you sigh a little relief when his van doesn’t start, and don’t object when eddie hands you the phone so you can call your job and tell them you won’t be making it. 
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here is the actual temp from my weather app— 🥲 also tagging @eiightysixbaby bc jonathan’s girlfriend is her, duh.
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yawnderu · 5 months
Text
Bruises That Bloom Purple — TF141 x Reader
>This was originally going to be a part of my 141 x Reader fanfic Stray, though I decided to change the ending, so have this angst one-shot instead.
When Johnny left them, they mourned. But he also took a part of Stray; the part that made her human.
The journal in your hands was a reminder of everything you lost— everything that Johnny had in mind ever since he met the task force. Pages upon pages full of scribbles, drawings, plans. His mind poured into the paper as if he didn't want to forget, some pages stained with coffee and blood, some fully clean. Your hands shook as you held the small book close to your chest, sob after sob escaping your lips for so long that the migraine became a second part of you.
"Johnny..." You cried out, hoping he would walk through the door. Hoping he would appear out of nowhere, hoping he would take you with him, hoping for anything, anything at all that allowed you to see his pretty blue eyes again, to be held securely in his arms again, to be kissed by him again. Fuck, even the image of him hurt.
You didn't lose a teammate— you lost a soulmate. A piece of you, of your soul, a piece so crucial to you Makarov might as well have ripped your heart out and left you to bleed pathetically on the cold floor of the underground tunnel.
You're sobbing so loud you don't even hear the polite knock on the door, eyes screwed shut tightly, sealed by the tears that come flowing down like a broken dam. You don't register anything going on around you until you feel a bare hand on your cheek, vision blurry, yet you can recognize that burly figure anywhere— Simon. You don't do anything other than to keep sobbing, pressing the journal closer to your chest, maybe hoping it'll start sinking into your skin and will allow you to have a part of Johnny within you.
"I'm here, love." He whispers softly, his tone more gentle than anything you've ever heard. He slowly lays in bed with you and brings you closer to his chest, not minding the mess of saliva, tears, and snot now staining his shirt.
"Somethin' to keep your heart safe." He pressed something cold into your hand— Soap's dog tags. You instantly hold them tightly, using them as a lifeline to stay with it. Simon presses a soft kiss against your forehead before his hand presses on the back of your head, holding you even closer, allowing you to cry on him.
"Johnny had the braid you gave him with him all the time, did ya know? Kept it tucked away in his jacket. I r'member him talkin' about it all the time, braggin' about how you gave 'im that." A small chuckle escapes your lips for the first time ever since he died, the sound full of pain and bitterness, yet it was something. It gave Simon all the confirmation he needed to keep talking.
"He kept everythin' you gave 'im. If it wasn't the bloody braid, it was a picture. If it wasn't one of those... it was a letter." And you know it was true. You've read his journal for what feels like hundreds of times, some of the letters you gave him were tucked away in pages with drawings of you. If a letter wasn't there, it was one of the many polaroids he had of you. Some alone, some together, some with the entire task force, including a masked Ghost.
Your throat is too sore from sobbing, you couldn't even speak if you wanted to, so you simply nod while laying your head against his chest. There's something about Simon that has always glued you together— something about the man who, even when you didn't get along at first, gave you an odd sense of comfort. Perhaps it's his smell, perhaps his voice, and maybe even his soul, that always seems to be one with yours.
"For Johnny, 't was a reminder that he was never alone." He kisses your forehead again, one of his hands gently massaging your scalp while the other one rubs up and down your back, spreading the warmth of his hand all over your trembling body.
You remember the exact same moment you gave him that braid. A protection braid made with a small strand of the bottom of your hair, sealed with words of affirmation and wishes of the future, a few months after your relationship with the men started. Love. Survival. Companionship.
"When we..." You began, voice wavering and weak, yet it had Simon's full focus. "When we scatter his ashes, can you do me a favor?" He'd do anything for you.
At 15:30, the 141 arrived at the cliff. You're all stuck in silence for a few minutes, mourning in your own ways while looking at the sunset and the ocean below you. The view is nothing short of breathtaking, yet the heartbreak is too great to fully appreciate it. You can't help but think Johnny would have loved this view, but the thought is quickly interrupted.
"He was the best of us." Price says, gravely voice growing even deeper at the pain of losing such an important part of his soul.
"The toughest." Gaz continues, looking into the ocean.
"He'd've fought the world bare handed..." Simon replies and all you can do is look into the water, trying your best to hold it together. Simon leans down, grabbing the urn from his backpack. He holds it up and you all put your hands on it, holding a part of Johnny for the last time.
"Who dares wins..." And win he did. At the very least, Johnny found a family.
"Sleep easy, soldier." More than a soldier, Johnny was the son he never had.
"See you down range, brother... we'll take it from here."
"Rest easy, my friend. You’ll never be forgotten." You fought off the urge to call him your love, your soulmate, yet they all knew what was in your mind.
"Rest in peace, Johnny." The words barely came out of his lips. It was like losing Tommy all over again. Simon opens the urn and lets the wind take Johnny's ashes, flying away, freeing his soul. You all look at him go and you manage to let a small smile take over your lips, watching proudly as he flies away, despite knowing he took a part of your soul with him.
Simon and you stay behind, knowing Price and Gaz will be waiting in the car for you. You slowly sink down to your knees, hands resting on your lap. It doesn't take long before Simon kneels behind you, hands gathering your hair before he begins to braid.
Revenge. Death. Vengeance.
His free hand pulls out a combat knife that belonged to Soap, lining up the razor sharp blade to your hair. With one smooth motion, he slides through the hair easily, letting the now shoulder length strands fall free. He places the braid on your lap and you look down at it, eventually letting the hair go down the cliff the same way you let go of Johnny.
You never let go of grief— you grow around it. And despite the agony your soul is in, you know these three men will do anything for you, the same way you'll do anything for them.
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