#i need to be strapped and given food

[assassinsblade]

Forget Me Not | 6

You are awaiting Azriel's return when chaos erupts.

WC: 6.4k

Warnings: TW: SA!!! Please do not read if this is triggering for you. Violence, death, blood, angst, feelings, and dare I finally say some fluff?

a/n: There will be one more part!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7

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Azriel never responded to your letter. You hadn't exactly expected him to, but you still couldn't help the pang of disappointment that settled in your gut when day after day went by in silence.

You hoped he was getting the healing he needed, the healing he deserved. The thought of your friend hurting because of your words had you itching to write another letter to him, but you knew to give him the time and space to map his feelings out. It would be better to say all you needed to in person anyway.

That didn't stop your heart from wandering each day though. You thought of his scarred hands and gentle touches. The way he had always been soft with you, as if he were nervous you would think him anything other than kind-hearted. The way his fingers would brush against the fabric of your shirt when passing by, letting you know he was there, letting you feel his presence, take in his scent, as he moved in your space.

You thought about the small smile he would give you during conversations both before and after the incident. The way his head would tip forward to show he was listening, the way his eyes twinkled with amusement at your storytelling, the curve of his lips as others laughed.

You thought of the times he had carried you to your room when you had fallen asleep on the couch, his comforting arms, his protective instinct as he locked your windows and pulled the covers over your chest and toes.

You thought of the heat that would rise to his cheeks when people would compliment him. The way the pink would dust his cheeks like a guide for your lipstick, his eyes averted and the subject quickly changed despite the passion he put into each and every one of his interests and talents.

You thought about his commitment and duty and strength. The way he held the weight of the entire court on his shoulders but still managed to make others laugh. The way he would suffer in silence, do the dirty work, but pretend like it was nothing to alleviate others' stress.

You thought about every bit of him, from the glow that surrounded his black hair against the backdrop of the sun to the way the grass curled around his feet, and you loved him with a fierceness that ached.

And you tried -- you tried so fucking hard -- to distract yourself from these thoughts in the days after you sent your letter.

You began training with Cassian again. He hadn't said anything despite how obvious your swollen and bloodshot eyes were, how your shoulders hung low with fatigue, the way your clothes were wrinkled against your thinning form.

He had given you kind eyes, though, and a soft smile that told you he was there should you need it. He often snuck bars of food into your training bag or left an "extra" tea out on the counter for you. You had even noticed him peeking his head into Azriel's room a few times at night to check on you, remaining quiet to not disturb your feigned sleep.

It wasn't until a week after Azriel had left that Cassian mentioned him again. You were strapping the weapons you had brought with you to training back in place when you felt his eyes on you. It was nearing eleven at night, and your entire body felt like it was going to fall to the floor underneath you. Your skin was slick with sweat, muscles burning, and your eyes felt (accurately) like your sleep had been fitful as of late.

Cassian was quiet until you finally met his eye and raised a brow, prompting him to break his silence. He nodded to the dagger strapped against your thigh. "I'm surprised Azriel has been letting you use that."

You looked at the dagger you had been using nightly when training, taking in its intimidating design and shrugging. "He didn't protest much. It's not Truthteller."

The dagger, in truth, had been helpful. Cassian not only helped you learn how to handle such a weapon better, but he did so in a safe space that allowed you to overcome any memories from that night surfacing. There were times when your movements and grip on the handle felt so similar to that cold moment in the alley, you would nearly throw the dagger from your hand in haste. But you were making progress, and those moments when blood tainted your vision were becoming few and far between.

Cassian continued moving throughout the space, putting equipment away and packing away his things. You could tell he was feigning being nonchalant from the way his hands fumbled and his eyes strayed away from your own.

"Truthteller isn't the only weapon Azriel has a special attachment to."

Your brows furrowed with confusion and curiosity. As much as you had come to care for Azriel, there were parts of his past he had always kept private. You knew some details regarding his history and what had made him into the male he was, but he rarely spoke to you about them.

He liked to portray the side of himself he could control, the side the victims of the Night Court did not get to see: his gentleness, his care for his family, his ability to bring joy to others. Never the past that haunts him or his actions that remind him of the evil in the world.

"Are you going to explain?" You decided on asking, mind already beginning to spin with thoughts of Azriel.

You were too tired for his vague comments, and really you just wanted to shower and curl back up in Azriel's bed. It was beginning to lose some of his scent and take on your own. You didn't know how low you would have to feel before you started digging through his closet and drawers for clothes of his wear and curl up in instead.

"Just-" he sighed, placing his towel in his bag. "That weapon holds a lot of weight to him. It's the one that was used against his brothers." His voice trailed off at the end with the secret.

His brothers. The males who had set fire to his hands. The males who had laughed as he screamed, who had treated him like a test subject, like less than an animal. The males who had enjoyed watching a young boy cry in pain, terror, fear, and confusion.

You swallowed back the horrid thoughts pushing their way into your mind. Flames licking up his scars, his hazel eyes drowning in tears. "He didn't tell me its history."

Cassian shrugged, turning to face you and crossing his arms over his chest. He was studying you. What for, you didn't know. "He just normally doesn't let that dagger out of his room. I've only ever seen it on him a few times."

Did Azriel give the weapon to you for the same reason he yielded it against his brothers? You remembered the placement of the dagger in your palms in his bedroom, the way the sharp edge faced his unguarded torso, as if he was standing at your mercy and vengeance, positioning his heart to be a target for your own pain.

Maybe he had seen your lashing out as inevitable, and he knew the very dagger he had used against his own brothers could also help you deal an angry blow in return. Did he know the dagger was going to be aimed at him eventually? Did he offer it, expecting that result?

You remembered the blood that fell from his bicep earlier this week.

"I noticed you've been sleeping in his room."

Cassian's voice was gentler this time as he interrupted your distracted thoughts, as if he was afraid his acknowledgement of what he had seen would spook you, cause you to shut down or leave. Instead, you just shifted your weight on your feet, trying to not look too embarrassed.

"Yeah. I don't know, it just seems to help. With the nightmares and stuff, I mean."

He continued to study you, and you felt yourself getting slightly uncomfortable and annoyed. He was obviously thinking something but was unwilling to say it, and you didn't exactly appreciate his quiet observations as if you were some sort of mystery or experiment to document hypotheses on.

"Just say it," you rolled your eyes.

"No."

"No?"

He gave you a half-smile, slinging his bag over his broad shoulder and taking a step toward the exit. "Some things aren't my place."

"Since when do you stay out of people's business, Cassian?" You scoffed.

"Since my brother-" He started, but suddenly his steps halted, body going rigid with tension. His eyes scanned the space rapidly, and within a moment his bag was dropped back onto the ground by his feet, and he was taking a step back toward you, eyes still tracking your dark surroundings.

Your breath hitched in your throat at his serious behavior. "Cassian, what is it?"

But he didn't respond. Instead, one of his hands reached for the knife on his belt, his other arm splaying out in front of you to get you to move back with him.

You followed his movements, stepping in tandem with him until you found yourself in the middle of the training ring once again. A breeze flowed up your arms and caressed the skin of your cheeks, causing shivers to run down your body and your hair to stand on edge.

Footsteps sounded from your right, and you whirled around in fear, gripping the dagger Azriel had given you with a tightness that hurt your knuckles. A shadowed figure was approaching, followed by four others. But you didn't have time to think of an approach before more footsteps sounded to your back and more appeared, their wings fading into the black sky behind them.

They were coming from all directions, all Illyrian males, all Illyrian warriors. Swords and shields glinted in the moonlight. Teeth sharp as they sneered.

"Cassian-" you whispered harshly.

"Gentlemen," Cassian interrupted, voice tight warning. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

There were about fifty of them, all nearly double your size. Illyrian males were already prone to being larger, all over six feet in height with intimidating wingspans and muscles, and for once you didn't feel safe around the form you so often associated with Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel. Your fingers trembled.

Cassian still told taller than all of them, the general a fierce presence surrounded by enemies. He looked determined, but he did not look scared.

One of the males stepped forward from the crowd.

"My son was one of the many who died in the war with Hybern. One of the many who died because of you. Because of your half-breed high lord and his past-time of playing house with bastards." He looked to his companions standing in the shadows. "You all come here and condemn our way of life, of training, of breeding, and then punish us on the battlefield. We're not fighting for you anymore. We're fighting for ourselves."

You felt like you were in a fever dream. You hadn't even been in Velaris for that long, had never been around during the war nor seen the aftermath of the choices made. But you knew of Cassian and Azriel's power in the Illyrian war camps. You knew how Rhys tried to ban wing clipping, how they all enforced treating the females equally and fair, how the males were discriminatory toward others and often rageful and violent.

You wanted no part of this.

"No one is forcing you to fight on the front line." Cassian responded, barely flinching at the man's short speech. He was completely and utterly still, gauging each movement around the two of you. He was a strategist, and you could sense the gears in his mind turning.

"Maybe we want to fight. Maybe we are here to demand our rights back. Our superiority."

Cassian's hands twitched, his siphons gleaming. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

His cold voice was nothing like the jovial male you had come to know. This was the Lord of Bloodshed ready to split the males in front of him in half, a warrior basking in the calm before blood would rain down around him.

"And why not?" The male laughed. "It is only you here. You and this pet. When we are done with you, we will go for that bastard shadowsinger. How do you think almighty Rhysand will feel about that? Both of his brothers put down like mutts? Think he will be willing to listen then?"

Rage swarmed in your veins, warming your skin until you felt your cheeks and ears turn red with heat. They would not touch you. They would not touch Cassian, and they sure as hell would not touch Azriel.

Cassian sighed, as if he were experiencing only a slight inconvenience. As if he had just been interrupted from a nap with a chore he couldn't put off any longer.

"Alright," is all he said, and then his strong arm was pushing you back and out of harms way, the harsh sound of weapons clashing ringing in your ears.

You spun quickly, trying to take in the chaotic space around you. Males were moving in all directions, and before you could think, you were throwing your dagger at the closest body you could find. The edge hacked into the center of his pale forehead, his body crumpling to the ground immediately.

Dodging another male grasping at you, you slid on your knees to collect your weapon, gathering up the fallen male's sword at the same time. It was heavy in your grip, but it was better than only having one weapon to arm yourself with.

"Come here, birdy." A voice cooed.

You vaguely registered red light flashing in the corner of your eye, the color flickering and absorbing in the sky. It lit up the armor of the Illyrians, and despite the pounding heart in your chest, despite not knowing if you would survive tonight, you found the sight beautiful.

You faced the male, his rotten teeth dirtying his smirk as he took you in. A few others joined him, forming a line in front of you. Raising the sword in your grasp, you held your chin up.

"Don't call me that."

They took their time observing you, as if you were a mouse in their game -- a treat they had hoped would be present at their meeting.

"Bad timing, girl. We don't have to hurt ya, though. Why don't you just come with us, yeah?"

The male to his left winked at you, and you felt your palms become damp with sweat. No, you would not be doing this again. You would not allow another male to put his hands on you again.

"I'd rather the Cauldron boil me alive."

And then you were swinging, the sword coming down with a mighty clang against the male's own. The resistance reverberated up your arm, through your bones, and you gritted your teeth at the pain. But you pushed forward, attempting to unbalance him with your steady stance.

The male to his right went in with a knife of his own, and you ducked out of the way, instead swinging low with your sword and slicing the legs of the male you had been up against. He cried out in anger and pain, and you couldn't help the smile that creeped onto your face at the noise. You wanted him to choke on that pain, on those cries.

As he fell and gripped his calves, you quickly made work of his throat, slashing through the skin in a swift movement, barely even taking the time to think before you flung the dagger with your other hand into the male to your right, the tip latching into his neck.

The last male roared, pushing you off your balance until you tripped and had to steady yourself, your sword pointed toward the ground.

He swung with his own, point aimed toward your chest, and you hurried to block the action. You had no armor to defend yourself, just your brief training and your will to live.

The male kept swinging, his strength and weight being thrown into each movement, pushing you back farther and farther. Each block you threw up only dug your feet deeper into the ground, only destabilized you, only made your arms sting with fatigue.

You were panting, grunting, trying to hold your own.

And then the male was half exploding away from you. Red light and energy threw his body from yours, sending him spiraling to the ground feet away. His armor looked melted, and you could only allow yourself a brief moment of relief before you searched for Cassian.

He was still fighting the other males. Plenty of other males, as the majority went straight for their target rather than you. Red surrounded him, his sword sparkling, dark hair gracefully blowing with each jab. He didn't even look winded. There were twenty males surrounding him, and about the same amount scattered on the ground limp and bloodied.

His movements were clean and precise. As if he were made to do this, his body glided in a beautiful dance that left males to drop before him. If blood had not been coating your vision, it would almost seem as if they were dropping to their knees in reverence.

You shook yourself out of your stupor, hefting up the sword and your dagger and moving forward again into the action.

You were steps away from another Illyrian, his brown eyes locking on your own, when blue blinded your vision.

Like lightning rocking the ground underneath you, a beam of cobalt shot from the sky, sending the earth trembling under your feet. The noise roared in your ears as you tried to keep your footing, blinking away from the bright light.

Your veins hummed, your skin tingled.

Because coming out of that bright blue light, eyes glowing like a god, was Azriel.

His wings were flared, taking up as much space as three Illyrians as he marched toward them, his towering form enough to make you want to fall to your knees in worship.

Light shone on his face, cutting his sharp cheekbones with the blue of his siphons. He looked angelic, and beautiful, and like the savior you dreamed about.

Your chest pulled you toward him, but your movements were halted by cold tendrils snaking around your wrists, pulling you backward.

You almost shouted, but then you realized as a grunt sounded in your ear what was happening. Azriel's shadows were back. They were back by your side and they were helping you. You could have wept with joy feeling the silky bands kissing your skin.

They pulled you out of the way of one of the Illyrians, his punch missing your head as you dodged. You didn't even have time to plunge the dagger toward his eye before the shadows were swarming the male, flowing into his nostrils, ears, mouth and eyes, until blood was flowing out of them, jaw hanging open and body going limp.

You gasped in shock as the male fell to your feet, choking and suffocating on his own internal bodily matter.

Trying not to gag, you pulled your gaze up to Cassian and Azriel fighting back to back. Flashes of red and blue lit up the sky, and you went to move closer, but the shadows held you back. They swarmed your ankles, your calves, and held you in place. Some lingering shadows skimmed the rest of your body, searching the open skin for wounds.

When the last of the males fell, the shadows released you, and you stumbled at the sudden freedom.

Then you were rushing toward your friends, sword falling from your fingertips to lay with the dead bodies in your haste. Cassian and Azriel were talking, but Azriel's body was turned toward you as if he was paying attention to you both at once -- and you supposed he was, what with his shadows monitoring your every movement and breath.

But then he couldn't focus on Cassian, couldn't say anything else, because you wouldn't let him. You didn't care if he shoved you off of him, you didn't care if he took both of your shoulders in his scarred hands and threw you to the ground, not as you flung yourself into his torso, the wind knocked out of your lungs with the force.

He caught himself with one step back, his arms going to catch you against him despite his shock. His body was tense with surprise, but you didn't care, not as you grasped his leathers, not as you breathed in the smell of him, not as you basked in the fact that Azriel was back after you were scared he would never see or talk to you again.

Your breath was shaky as you listened to his heartbeat underneath your ear. His arms tightened around you, and you felt as seconds ticked by before gentle fingers tangled in your hair hesitantly.

Still, he did not say a word.

You would take this moment, savor it, knowing it could be your last chance at any kind of intimacy, at any kind of care and love with Azriel before everything came crashing down again, before reality and all you had both said and done disrupted what could have been.

You could hear Cassian’s footsteps fading in the distance, but the sound was muffled as you attempted to get closer to the shadowsinger, gripping him tighter, burying your face deeper into his hard strong chest.

He was so warm against you, and the contrast of that heat against the cool shadows weaving around you had you nearly gasping.

Tears were in your eyes before you could control your emotions, knowing how embarrassing this was. You had pushed him away for months, made him crawl for your forgiveness, but as soon as you were the one to make a mistake, you couldn’t handle it. You were just so glad he was home. So glad he was here in front of you so you could apologize, and feel whole again with him near. You hadn’t realized how empty you felt with him gone-

“Are you okay?” His rough voice cracked above you, barely audible above the wind.

You nodded against him, trying to compose your feelings before reluctantly releasing him and taking a step back. His fingers trailed after you as if by instinct, and you cleared your throat in an attempt to distract yourself from touching him once again.

“I’m okay,” you reiterated, hands tangling together in nerves. He looked you up and down, brows furrowed as if he didn’t quite believe you, as if he needed to give you a thorough inspection. “Are you?”

“Fine,” he quietly spoke. And you could tell that he was. He didn’t even look like he broke a sweat going up against the remaining Illyrians, which made your worry for him even more embarrassing.

“I didn’t…” you swallowed, sorting through your jumbled thoughts. “What are you doing back?”

His gaze was soft but guarded. Your heart thumped in your chest painfully at the contrast to how he looked at you just a week or two ago. You had hurt him enough for those walls to go back up, and you also couldn’t ignore the hurt you had felt (even if you were trying your hardest to forget it).

Instead of answering your question, Azriel said, “We should talk. After I check in with Rhys.”

“Right.” You nodded, rubbing your palms on your pants, the fabric clinging to your thighs. “That’s probably more important.”

Azriel just looked at you though before muttering, “Not more important.”

You hated the tension, the uncertainty, and if not for the adrenaline in your veins, you were sure you would have started crying again.

“I’ll come find you after.”

You nodded, and he gave you a short one in return, sending his shadows to stay with your form once again. They twirled around you, as if to make up for their master’s lack of visible excitement, and you tried to let them warm the anxiety overwhelming you.

And then he was winnowing you back to the House of Wind, only allowing the darkness to envelop him again once you were secure behind its wards.

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You waited for Azriel all night.

The clock ticking on your wall seemed to mock you, and you wondered if he was already in his room hiding from you, or if he had decided to not return to you to talk after all.

You wouldn’t blame him for changing his mind, but the thought still caused your heart to twist in your chest. You had so much to say, so much to just let out into the open, that if he ended up not wanting to talk, you thought it would probably end up weighing you down to your grave.

Sighing, you wrapped a blanket around your bare shoulders to shield your nightgown-clad form from the cold, stepping out onto one of the balconies at the House of Wind. You couldn’t go lay in Azriel’s room, and you weren’t going to be able to rest in your own. So, you sat along the edge of the balcony, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping the blanket tight as could be around you.

Shadows rested on your shoulders and by your hips, silently keeping watch around you. Their presence was calming as you looked over the night sky.

You remembered sitting in this exact spot months before, smiling to yourself as you compared your life in the Hewn City to where you had come here in Velaris. So much had changed then, and even more now.

You missed the ease of being around your friends and around Azriel. And it frustrated you, because you knew you would be happier with him around again, but you didn’t know what was right to do. What was correct?

Your heart ached for him even more now than it did months ago, as if a tether was pulling you to him, begging you to become one as it was always meant to be. And you knew that feeling of completion in your soul would finally come when you two could move forward again, but you didn’t even know what that meant, if it was possible, if he’d want that-

“You’re going to catch your death out here.”

Your head whipped around so quickly at his voice, you were surprised he didn’t laugh.

“Azriel,” you breathed.

“Why don’t we go inside?” He nodded to your bundled up form. He made no move to help you stand, instead keeping his hands shoved into his pockets, body held tight with tension.

You stood in a hurry, clutching the blanket to your shivering form before making your way over to his tall frame and past the open door.

He followed you quietly as you sat down on one of the couches, shutting the door behind you two. He didn’t immediately take a seat, instead watching as you got comfortable (as comfortable as you could be with all of the anxiety coursing through you), before walking around one of the chairs and lowering himself down into it. His elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward, scarred hands clasped together and holding his attention.

He seemed much more unaffected than you. But you both had been affected by what had happened to you for months, and you understood he was probably exhausted, probably done putting energy into this situation, into you.

“I have so much I need to say.” You tried to sound confident, but your voice came out so insecure.

He only looked at you expectantly — not cold nor mean, but open and listening, his hazel eyes nonjudgemental.

“I want to tell you everything,” you started. “From before that night to what happened and how I was feeling after. But please, Azriel, please know I will never forgive myself for the words I spoke to you last week. I am so sorry. So so sorry. I meant none if it.”

Your voice shook with your tears, and you immediately wiped them away before they became too obvious to the spy.

He was silent, and you felt that thing in your chest crack further.

“You are the most honorable and lovable person I have ever known. Any words indicating otherwise were spoken from a place of hurt and anger and are completely untrue. You give your safety up daily to protect others, you have done nothing but try to make life better for those that you can. You have a good heart and a kind soul, and you are a way better person than the world deserves — than I deserve.”

Azriel shook his head at your words. “You deserved more than what happened to you. Than what I did.”

“I think we both made mistakes.”

His silence unnerved you, and you found yourself scrambling. “I understand if you don’t forgive me, if you don’t want to be around me anymore. I can find another place to live in Velaris… or I can go back to the Hewn City-”

“Hewn City?”

“This is your home— has always been your home. I’ve only been here recently. I can go wherever you need me to.”

“I want you to stay here.”

Your eyes met his hazel ones, and you could see a crack in the walls he had built up, the panic and emotion seeping through.

“I don’t know what I’d do if you left.” The words came out like a confession, like he hadn’t actually intended you hear them.

“I don’t want to leave you,” you admitted. “I hate this.”

“I do, too.”

Your fingers gripped the blanket tighter around you, pulling it until it held you with makeshift protection.

“I had never been more afraid than I was that night,” you told him, not able to quite make eye contact while talking about this. “But it was worse because it was you who forgot me, who didn’t think of me.”

He flinched at your words, and you hurried to explain.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long, Azriel. I put expectations onto you that you didn’t even know were there. It was unfair of me to put myself above Elain, to demand your protection and your thoughts as if I was entitled to them.”

“You are entitled to them,” he said forcefully, pulling your eyes up to his own.

You shook your head, giving him a sad smile. “I know you care about me. You’re a loving person. But that doesn’t mean I can punish you for not loving me as much as I wish.”

“Stop, please.” He squeezed his eyes shut as if he was in physical pain.

You waited for him to collect himself, to sort through his thoughts and emotions. His jaw was clenched, his fingers trembling, and you found comfort in the evidence that you weren’t the only one feeling nervous and uncertain.

“I never want to hear you excuse what I did that night again. Do you understand?”

He took a deep breath at your silence before continuing. “You are not someone to be forgotten, to be left behind. I will do everything in my power to convince you of that until I am dust to this planet.”

Your eyes watered with his words, but you let him keep going, getting the words off his chest.

“And you are entitled to my protection and thoughts. You are entitled to every part of me. You are my mate, and I will thank the Cauldron every day for blessing me with you even if you do not return the sentiment nor want to act on it any longer.”

Mate.

He was your mate.

Holy gods.

You thought of the pull you always felt toward the shadowsinger, the comfort you felt in his arms, the soothing scent of his sheets and clothes. You thought of the way he always seemed to know what you needed, how you were hyperaware of his presence and touch, the feeling of incompletion when he was away.

“Azriel…”

“I’m not sure where we go from here. I know that I will beg for you, on my hands and knees, daily for the rest of my life. I know that I will do what I can to help you through any trauma I caused, to earn your trust back. I know that I have fallen in love with you in the past few months, even before that without realizing. But I also know that I have done you wrong, and that I cannot change the past nor the hurt you endured.”

Your lips trembled, and you tried your hardest to keep looking into his hazel eyes, but you could feel it. The bond, the pain centered in both your chest and his own. The love and care he felt traveling into you, lighting that hallow space up and filling it until you felt him.

“Will you forgive me for the terrible things I said?” You asked, matching his own vulnerability. “Will you allow me to convince you of your worth and heart?”

Something sparked in your chest at the words, and his hopeful brown green eyes met your own.

“You’re already forgiven.”

You could barely hold in a sob at his words, and then he was slowly moving toward you. He let you see each of his actions, as if he expected you to shove him away, to have him give you space like you had the last two months.

But as soon as his hands brushed back the hair from your face, cupping your jaw, you were lunging toward him. Your arms encircled his neck, gripping tight tight tight, bringing him as close to your body as you could. His hand cradled the back of your head to his neck, his own nose nuzzling into the side of you.

You could feel his tears wetting your skin, and you knew he could feel your own cries against him, but you didn’t care. You didn’t want to think about any more pain right now. Not about what happened months ago, not about what you said last week, not about Azriel’s week-long absence or the Illyrian revolt. All you could think about were his hands holding you.

“I love you,” you spoke into his neck. “I’ve always loved you.”

His fingers gripped you tighter, to the point of near bruising. And then he pulled back.

His lips brushed against your forehead, the soft gesture bringing more tears to your eyes.

“When I felt that fear go across the bond tonight, even through the walls I had put up, I thought I would be coming home to Cassian carrying you into this room bloody again. I thought I would be too late, again.”

But he had come for you. Even after everything you had thrown at him, he had been willing to put himself on the line for you and was still ready for your rejection.

You shook your head at him, your thumb brushing across his cheekbone. “I held my own pretty well actually.”

His eyes gleamed through the haunted look he had, a light of praise shining through, and then they were dropping to look at your lips.

Your skin warmed at the action, your mouth parting instinctually. His thumb brushed your bottom lip in admiration before his eyes moved back up to your own.

“We still have a lot to discuss.” His voice was quiet but rough, and you nearly clenched your thighs together at the sound.

He must have felt your body heat rising, the way you were tempted to squirm into his lap, to lean forward just a bit more, because his pupils dilated and his grip on you tightened ever so slightly.

“We have all the time now, right?” You asked hesitantly, his lips drawing you in as if you were in a trance. “And it’s late. It might be better to talk more once we get some rest.”

“Rest.” He repeated, his tongue testing out the word.

“I’ve been sleeping in your room,” you admitted, flushing with embarrassment. “Maybe we can both stay there tonight.”

“I’ll do anything you want.”

And you could hear the truth in the words, the desperation and vulnerability. If you told him to drop to his knees in front of you, he would do it. He would kiss the ground you walked on and look at you reverently while doing so.

So you led him to stand with you, dropping the blanket from your shoulders to fall back onto the couch, and grasped his hand with your own.

His eyes took in the light fabric hugging your body, and you watched them darken, his lashes fluttering and tongue wetting his lips.

“I want you,” you said.

The words were not necessarily ones of lust, but they were fueled in desire, in love and fire that had been suffocated for months. Letting them fall from your lips felt as cathartic as screaming.

“You have me,” Azriel said in return, his hand cupping your lower back and pulling you against him.

His body lined up with your own, but it wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to feel inside of him, you wanted to pull on that bond until it glowed a blinding gold across your vision. You wanted to feel his skin everywhere, curl your fingers into his hair, and tell him everything you had ever thought about him.

You have me too, you wanted to tell him. So take me.

And as his feet slowly started moving you both back toward his room, your heart skipped in your chest. His answering smile at the feeling had heat rising to your cheeks and an embarrassed giggle erupting.

Take me, you thought again. Make me yours.

He scooped you up into his arms and your mind emptied. No more pain, no more confusion, just you and Azriel and the thrum of love in your chest.

You have me. I’m yours.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar fic #azriel x you #azriel angst

[breadbrobin]

friendship bracelets

leo valdez x reader — heroes of olympus

[gn!child of demeter reader]

summary: friendship bracelets are a love language in themselves. it’s a shame leo can’t wear the ones you make him.

warnings: little bit of swearing, possibly ooc leo, fluff, food and eating, leo forgets to eat sometimes.

word count: 1.2k

(so i wrote a leo fic too uhhhh. anyway. i love him and i have always loved him and i will always love him, so here’s a lil gift from me to you and uhhh yeah enjoy!)

——————————————

you’d given leo two bracelets. one was at the wilderness school. it was flimsy and made of red and yellow beads, held together by an elastic tie you’d smuggled into the school. the second was after your first quest. you’d managed to get some leather straps and made a braided leather bracelet for him.

he thought you’d made them for your other friends too, but he soon found out that he was the only one to get a matching leather bracelet with you.

“i don’t have enough for everyone,” was your excuse as you hid your rolls of leather threads and straps under your pillow. “i wish i could.”

that was good enough for him.

he soon realised, though, that he couldn’t wear them.

the risk of them burning was far too high, and after he nearly melted the beaded one when he got too excited one day, he decided to stop wearing them.

they held pride of place on his bedside table though. they were right beside his three-day-old water glass and the shrivelled pot plant you’d given him that you swore he’d be able to keep alive.

“it’s a cactus, leo! you can’t kill a cactus.”

he killed the cactus. or, at least, he mostly killed the cactus. you’d even named it jeremiah in the hopes that it would make him remember to water it, but he’d known a jeremiah once and hated his guts, so it hadn’t really helped much.

so leo valdez was a plant-killing, bracelet ignoring bastard. what was new?

oh, nothing. just the fact that he was madly in love with you.

maybe it was the bracelets, or your insistence that he would be able to keep a little cactus alive, or your uncontrollable laughter as he showed you the wilted plant, or maybe even the way you used your influence over plants to heal the little cactus and bring it back to life.

whatever it was, he was totally screwed. so screwed, in fact, that he took to staring at the two bracelets on his table every night before going to sleep, wishing he could wear them to see the look on your face.

leo worked hard. he always did. once he got into something, he didn’t stop until it was finished. sometimes, that meant ignoring his body’s need for food and water.

you marched into bunker 9 with a bag in hand. “leo valdez!”

he looked up from his workbench. “what did i do? whatever it was, it wasn’t me. i swear.”

“yeah, you didn’t do anything. like eat! i didn’t see you at breakfast or lunch!” you sat on his workbench beside him and placed the bag down in front of his busy hands. “it’s three o’clock now, so i bought you food.”

“i really have to—“

“eat? yes, you do.”

“no, but—“

“and drink water? that too. there’s a water bottle in there.”

“y/n—“

“leo, if you don’t eat your food i’ll break your hands so you can’t work anymore and then i’ll spoon feed you chicken soup every day until your hands are better.”

he looked up at you, offended. “i hate chicken soup.”

you smiled and leaned forward. “i know. so eat your fucking food.”

he raised his hands in defeat. “okay, fine.” he set his tools down and opened the bag with a teasing roll of his eyes. “if it pleases you so.”

“it does, indeed.”

as he ate, you walked around the bunker as you did every time, your hands behind your back like you were at an art gallery. to you, it was a gallery. bunker 9 was like the inside of leo’s mind: chaotic, messy, always moving and changing, and covered in memories of you. there were polaroid pictures that you’d given him pinned to a cork board. the whiteboard beside it read: ‘meet y/n for campfire’. there was even a note you’d scrawled to him in Ancient Greek a few weeks ago: ‘don’t forget to eat, dumbass.’ Apparently, he hadn’t listened to that one.

you walked back over just as he finished his food. he made to hand the back bag to you, but you stopped him. “you didn’t get everything.”

he frowned and opened the bag again, looking inside. “what are you— oh!”

he reached in and pulled out a leather bracelet. it was similar to the one you’d made him before, but tidier. you’d clearly gotten better at making them. “it’s beautiful, but, y/n, you know i can’t—“

“you can’t wear them because you’ll burn them. i know. put it on.” you smiled knowingly.

he put it on warily. it was nice, and his heart fluttered a little at the gesture, but he still couldn’t wear it out of fear.

“now burn it.”

his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. “what?”

“burn it.”

“i’m not gonna—“

“do you trust me?”

“sometimes, like when you tell me to burn your hard work, i don’t, no.”

you stepped forward and tightened the bracelet on his wrist. “leo. burn it. or i will.”

he frowned up at you. “you’re very scary today.”

“thank you,” you smiled, stepping back. “just trust me.”

he sighed and shook his head, but lit his hand and lower arm on fire, watching forlornly as the bracelet melted to nothing—hold on. he extinguished the fire. the bracelet was still there. “how did you—?”

“talked to lou ellen. there’s a spell on that one. i had to get her to do it as i made it, but it won’t burn. it’s magic.” you smiled proudly, rocking back and forth on your heels.

he looked at you in shock and stood up. “you made a fire resistant bracelet for me?”

you shrugged. “of course, i did. and look!” you extended your wrist to him, showing a matching one. “i made a better one for me too!”

he looked from your wrist to your face with his signature impish grin. “thought you didn’t have enough to make anymore.”

you shrugged. “maybe i underestimated myself.”

“maybe you did.”

for a moment, you just smiled at each other, and he thought he could have kissed you right there and maybe (just maybe) from the look on your face you wouldn’t push him away, but then you slipped your hand into his and pulled him to another work bench. his hand was still warm, as always. “now, tell me what this is, because i have no idea.”

so, as he explained how one of his many projects worked and you hung onto his every word and held his hand tightly, he couldn’t help but feel a little warmer than usual.

and maybe, when you left that afternoon, leaving him to continue his work, pressing a kiss to his cheek like you always did, he could summon the courage to pull you back in for a kiss on your lips, like he’d always wanted. and maybe your friendship bracelets would turn into something more.

but, even if they didn’t, he knew he’d fall asleep that night without staring at his bedside table. he’d stare at his wrist instead. and he’d never take that bracelet off. ever. not even if the gods themselves required him to.

#leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #pjo x reader #hoo x reader

[heartfullofleeches]

Good Boy

Male Sub Yan Bully + G.N Reader

"I only need a good boy by my side, and I don't mean someone who'll have me home by eight. I want an obedient pet. Will you be that for me?."

Warnings/Tags: Top/Dom Reader, Anal Sex/Pegging, Cross-dressing, Light Degradation and pet play. Reader's gender is (obviously) never stated, but their parts are referred to as dick for ease.

Anyone with working eyes could see how whipped that boy was for you.

From the day he pushed past you in the hall, a faint spark started his heart stemming from the dismissive glare you back shot his way. That flicker was the match that blew everything into an explosive mess for your attention, igniting any obstacle in its wake. Your fellow peers avoided you for the continued safety of their fingers and social life, and every which way you turned he was there. His physical harassment didn't go beyond shoving you out of his way or snatching pencils and things meant for trash.

You never acted out against him - to his. Never ratted him out or even raised your voice. You hardly talked to him at all and that pissed him even off more. To make matters worse you were cordial in your brief encounters, and even threw off-handed comments his way. Trailing your fingers up his bicep when he forced himself at your table. Saying he looked "nice" with his hair up and out of the way of those pretty eyes. It drove him mad. He knew you knew he was too chicken shit to actually put hands on you and didn't bother wasting your energy to provoke him.

Recently, your dynamic had taken yet another turn. One, uneventful Monday morning, you strolled right up to his locker and patted him on the head as you walked off to class. His knees turned to jelly, and he nearly had a locker door slammed in his face following your hand as it left his soft locks. At lunch that very same day, you sat in his lap and even fed him his food - so long as he rushed through that project for his next class he was intentionally planning to fail. When the grades were sent back and you caught wind of his score, you kissed him on the cheek and ruffled his hair like you did before. His goons spread rumors of the two of you dating, but now everyone believed it with the leash you had around his neck. If he didn't get himself into detention, another pat. Good grades? Two kisses - if he work school appropriate clothing. Your switch from pretending he never existed to dotting on him like you were actual lovers boggled his mind to no end. What made you see him differently?

"This thing is way too damn short. I told you I'm not putting on fucking her bra - that's gross. Where the hell is my phone.. What the fuck?... give it to me. Post that and I will fucking ki-"

Oh - that would explain thing. It would explain a lot actually. All those weeks back, Erin had been asked by a friend to help deliver his sister's clothing to a nearby shelter with a few beers as payment. One of them had the brilliant idea to have a drinking contest with the loser having to try on her clothes. When it was discovered he had been pouring his into the grass, Erin was immediately disqualified and given his dues. They took video and posted it to his private page - forgetting about the person he made follow back. In all honesty, Erin had no problem wearing feminine clothing. It was just that everything that girl had absolutely shit tastes in fashion and not at all to kiss liking.

What he had on now was exactly his style.

Sliding a hand up his outer thigh, you loop two fingers through the heart shaped buckle attached to his garters and thigh highs. The spaghetti straps of his crop top hand loose and torn off his shoulders; neck and chest decorated in dark bruises and teeth marks. Circling your tongue around his puffy nipple, you pull it between your teeth - just to watch him squirm as your lips break contact with his chest; the strip of leather hanging from his thigh crackling against his skin as you retch your fingers free. He whimpers mutely, rubbing the stinging flesh into the mattress to prolong that fading bite. Grabbing his knee causes him to stop immediately, looking up at you with those pretty, pleading eyes through the whispy, dark ginger locks clinging to his sweaty forehead and cheeks. You smirk.

"What a good boy."

It had all been a test. You saw that video, and you had to have him. You knew he could be obedient with the right motivations and there was none better than giving yourself - and a little praise, to him. As usual, Erin was pissed when he found out you were training him like some.. dog, but he couldn't deny the guilty pleasure of you turning him into your bitch in front of the whole school. His cock throbs in his panties as his hazy mind replayed the billionth loop of you calling him yours; the phantom heat of your breath against his ears sending chills. Erin bucks away from the hand placed over the bump in his skirt so you wouldn't notice the pulse, but you certainly had. You close your fingers around his length, stilling him as another gloop of drool rolls past his lips.

"Eager Boy! I would love to help you with this, but.... I only need a good boy by my side, and I don't mean someone who'll have me home by eight."

You drop your lips to his ear, teasing the shell in just the way that made him cry out everytime. His little bated moans were the cutest thing.

" I want an obedient pet - and lover. Will you be that for me, Erin."

His cock ached at the first title; his heart sung at the next. He'd do anything to relieve the tension in both areas. Anything to be yours. Licking his bitten lips, he nods.

"I'll be good...."

You reach up to stroke his cheek. Erin nips at your fingers, rolling the metal ball of his piercing between each. He spits directly in your hand.

"Freak."

His chest rises with a shaky laugh, yet there's nothing but obedience in those eyes. It's a work in progress. You smack the meat of his thigh with your spit covered hand; the sound and force of the saliva hitting his send immeasurable. The e way his mouth falls open as he gasps - you would've thought he came right then and there if his solid erection wasn't in your opposite hand.

"You're lucky I'm nice. Turn over, pretty boy."

Leaning back, you help Erin lift his leg over your head as he turns over onto his stomach. Scooting forward, his ass falls into your lap as he sinks down. You raise the skirt that barely covered much to begin with and slip those lace panties down; pre-ejaculate smeared into its crotch. You wish you hand more time to appreciate his attire or shove those frilly garments down his throat, but as soon as he came through your door it was too your bedroom - and you wanted to hear his sounds nice and clear for your first time together. There would be plenty more nights in the future for you to do whatever your heart desired. Reaching forward, you tap his lips with your finger.

"Spit? Since you've already proven you don't mind getting your drool all over your master."

Erin opens his mouth - letting out a gagged yelp of surprise as your fingers shoot down his throat. He's never been more thankful for the lack of a reflex. Regaining what little composure he hand, Erin swirls his tongue around your fingers and hollows his cheeks as he suckles them as you drag them out his mouth. His head falls into the pillow as you draw your arm back to position; spreading his asscheeks as your lubricated thumb teases his hole. It slips in easier than you imagine and his back muscles go taught.

"Have you fingered yourself before?"

Erin buries his face in the pillow, eyes avoiding your stare. ".... toothbrush."

"Pfft - you whore. I was wondering what happened to that. Guess I don't have to ask who you were thinking about while you did it."

"At least you go your brains if anything ever happens to your face."

Frowning, you yank the hair still trapped in the scrunchie he wore. "Bad dog. Guess you won't need the prep then."

Removing your finger, you lend your cock to his hole. He hooks one arm under the pillow and reaches the other behind him. You take his hand and lock your fingers with his as you slip inside; pinning the limb to his back as you sink in. You pull your knees from under him and plant them in the mattress as you drag your girth out of his tight hole. Erin drops his free hand between his legs, but you quickly add your weight to his arm - immobilizing him.

"Ah-ah, I didn't say you could do that did I?"

Erin grumbles something under his breath, but thankfully you don't hear it. As a reward for staying still you kiss along his back up to the nape of his neck, right below his choker where you plant your teeth as you start off at a gradual pace. His skirt falls pack down a couple times which you lose care of after a while and let drap at your thighs. He keeps his lips separated from the pillow so his heavy breathes are audible - just like he knew you wanted. Such a good boy. Dropping your grasp to his waist, you tug him back with each thrust - virtually bouncing the drooling boy on your cock. His greedy hole and desperate whimpers suck you back in. Pleads he tempts to conceal with his moans ringing longer no matter how exaggerated his sounds become. Like everything when it came to you - he just couldn't keep it in.

"ngh...y/n...please...hah... give more."

"You want more this so soon? Hm, you've been good enough so far."

Yelping as your hips snap against the curve of his ass, Erin rocks his with a stutter - rutting his aching cock into the mattress chasing friction you refuse to provide. Your hand cracks hard against his right cheek and his back arches against your sweaty bare chest as he all but screams into the pillow now forced into snuffing his cries. You grab his jaw and his head pivots back to look up at you.

"So noisy.... It's unsightly of you, Erin. Like you're a different person now you've got a few inches in you. Tell me, are you my good little puppy or some bitch in heat using my dick to get off?"

Tongue petaled around your thumb, Erin cries out beneath its weight. "Mmph.." You lift your finger, smearing his drool into his cheek as you turn his head to face you.

"What was that, boy?"

"y-yours... 'm yours, I promise. I can be both. Please let me be both."

"We'll see about that." Standing on your knees, you yank Erin along with you and lock your arm around his neck to keep him from falling as you drill upwards into him. His cock bobs with each hammer of your hips into his and you have enough mercy to stroke him to completion as his eyes roll back in his head. You mouth more marks into his neck and shoulder blades, scrapping your teeth on the bone. Your name bleeds off his tongue like it's the only he's ever known and right now there couldn't be a truer statement. You suck one more fresh hickey to his neck and work on to his jaw, licking the stray tears that drip down to the corners of his mouth as you crush his windpipe in your hold - darting your tongue past his gasping lips. Erin groans in the blissful heat of the thirsty kiss, cumming into your hand and onto his thighs and your pillow. You rub the sensitive flesh for a few more strokes before letting him fall into his own mess. You join him on the unstained pillow and scoop your arm under his neck. He scoots over, resting his head on your chest - eyelids droopy and body slack. You brush his hair out of his face, pressing a kiss to his clammy temple.

"A quick rest, then it's the showers before bed for you, Mister.. You did amazing for me. Clean?"

You extend your hand; palm glazed with his spend. Erin scoffs, lips twitching into a faint smile.

"You're such a dick."

He sweeps his tongue over the salty fluid and licks it off the ball of your fingers, cringing at the taste, but doing as asked for once.

"True, but I'm your dick now."

He stops - eyes soft and more vulnerable than the entirety of your session. "You... were serious about that?"

"Of course. You're a good boy, Erin - when you want to be. I like you."

His head falls back to your chest, hand finding yours. "i... love you."

-

The next day at school, you walk in together with your wrist in his hand. You'd let him keep his big dog act for just a little longer. Stopping at your longer, Erin spots the one that got away - some little shit that snuck a note in your locker and fled his fury due to the teacher standing in the hall. His right hand tightens into a ball.

"Erin."

The student looks your way, shocked seeing the two of you so close. His shoulders relax as he shoves the fist into his pocket. Thankfully, you didn't have every period together. "See, i wasn't doing nothing."

You peck his cheek with a smile. "Good boy.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere headcanons #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere oc #sub yandere #yandere bully #yandere smut #top reader

[sturn-wrld]

🏮facetime sex

pairing: chris x reader

summary: y/n is sex deprived while chris is away

genre: SMUT!!!! don't read if it makes you uncomfortable!

warnings: masturbation, nicknames

a/n: day 4 of smutmas! i love this story but not the end so ignore that part if you like :)

masterlist

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

it had been 2 weeks since your boyfriend, chris, had left for tour and you were already feeling sex deprived. both you and chris knew this was going to happen. he tried to avoid this by inviting you to come on tour with him knowing there would be opportunities during the chaos that tour bring for you two to slip away at any given point but you denied knowing how stressed you would be with school after coming back. but right now was a time you wished you had gone with him.

as you lay in your comfy bed on your back wondering why chris hasn't asked for pics yet or asked to facetime you naked. he was always hornier than you were and always called you for facetime sex when you were in the same city so to think he was surviving without sex for longer than you had this time was insane. at the same time as thinking these thoughts the amazing idea to pull a chris popped into your head.

you were going to facetime chris naked. or almost naked. the second the thought popped into your head you jumped up from your bed to go put on chris's favourite lingerie you owned and sat back on your bed before texting him.

hey chris. how are you? how's tour going?

hey ma. tour is so cool. i love meeting all the fans and stuff. and i've got some cool things for you when i come back soon.

that's good ml! i'm so excited. what are you guys doing right now?

we aren't doing much. matt and I just finished setting up the hotel room and he just left with nick to get us food.

okay. i'm going to ft you then ;)

as you flung your upper body back to lay on your bed and rang chris you couldn't help but get giddy and butterflies like it was the first time all over again. suddenly you saw a very familiar, sexy face pop up on your screen.

hey beautiful

hey baby

what you up to right now?

nothing much. thought you could help me with something.

what's that mamas?

do you want to help me cum?

always gorgeous. go sit at your desk and set your phone up.

you obeyed his request and set your phone up so he could see your whole body sitting in the chair at your desk as he set his phone up so you could see his whole body while he sat on the bed.

take that sexy bra off.

this was all you needed to slowly unclip the bra and seductively pull the straps down to reveal the big lumps that lie on your chest.

now play with those beautiful tits.

as you started toying with your nipples, screaming the most unholy moans straight from your throat, you noticed chris's shorts begin to tent.

just looking at you makes me wet.

the sentence chris was waiting for to command you of your next action.

how about you show me instead of telling me.

at that moment you stood up to teasingly strip away the almost invincible panties to fully reveal the waterfall the last two weeks had created. as he stared he slowly starting pulling down his own sweatpants and underwear to reveal what your craving had been.

as you stared right at him and his enormous dick you slowly started rubbing your slick all over the hole's surrounding areas releasing what could be considered ear piercing moans but was music to chris's ears. as he started rubbing himself up and down, it only supported you to continue.

chris i wish you were touching me right now.

the saying that could push chris to the edge any day. the saying that caused absolute mayhem within him.

pretend it's me then mamas.

with that you closed your eyes and started rubbing faster before insert your fingers into your soaking hole, moan chris's name as loud as possible. this caused chris to continue to run himself faster and faster, bringing himself closer to his release.

are you close yet ma?

almost baby.

as chris reached his end he stopped just to start again, to edge himself for you to have a simultaneous release.

chris i'm gonna cum.

okay beautiful do it now for me.

as chris gave you permission, you released on the spot from the sound of his fucked out voice and the sight of him releasing on himself, shaking uncontrollably in the process.

your so beautiful ma. you did so good.

thank you baby.

no thank you. i really needed this right now.

as the two of you sat in silence half clothed, covered in your own cum and blankets, you wondered how long you would last until this happened again. after chris started touching himself again you came to the conclusion of not very long.

taglist

@ermdontmindthisaccount @its-jennarose @ilovemattsturn

#strniolosworld #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut

[selfishdoll]

❛ YOU SCARED OF ME?...❜

Watch you weigh your powers | Tempt with hours of pleasure  ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒  ♡ SEXTAPE

ཐིཋྀ  ⊹ 𓈒  SUMMARY.

you were nothing more than yuji’s english tutor.. one who was always a little distracted by his older brother, kamo choso.

ཐིཋྀ  ⊹ 𓈒  CONTENT WARNING.

yuji mention (not sexualized & you better not either), thigh slap, dom choso, ooc choso (ofc), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dumbification, pet names, praise, cervix fucking, etc. if i forgot something please let me know.

ཐིཋྀ  ⊹ 𓈒  NOTE. the way choso is slowly consuming my feed like i love this man. also as always, this fic is unedited so please excuses typos & grammar mistakes.

Glossed lips moved silently to the lyrics running through your airpods to your ears, face pushed against the palm of your hand— lazily scrolling through your instagram. Every so often your eyes would raise away from the screen, glancing out the windows to assure the uber you resided in was still on track. So far everything seemed fine, but you never knew nowadays.

Once satisfied with what you saw, you sunk back into the seat; pressing your lips together for a moment as you glanced at the time. 2:25. Perfect, you were right on schedule. You were about fice minutes away from your student’s house; Itadori Yuji. The poor boy was having such a hard time with English and being the nice upperclassman you were, you helped him.

Though, meeting his fine older brother; Kamo Choso was an added bonus. You two didn’t talk often as he usually came in the middle of your tutoring session, giving his brother a quick hello and you a wave. Other times Choso would offer food, you pleasantly surprised to see something for yourself as well. He was sweet, quiet— but sweet. Given the hopeless romantic you are, you were bound to fall for him.

And fall you did, unable to hold eye contact whenever he simply said hello, or asked how you’re doing. Looking away whenever he would smile or laugh at something his brother said, even sinking into yourself when he was around you; afraid you would melt from even the slightest of touches. You were whipped and you so desperately hoped he didn’t know.

The uber soon slowed infront of the Itadori-Kamo residence, glancing back at you with a friendly smile. You gave one back, “Thank you so much.” Collecting your tote bag and other belongings you opened the car door and exited soon after, closing it behind you. Your eyes trailed over the house noticing the black sleek car sitting the drive way, causing your heart to thump— Choso was home. You took a deep breath, glancing over your attire and secretly thankful you settled for something slightly presentable; a simple black spaghetti strap dress and black, wedge sandals. Though, it shouldn’t matter much— Choso stayed in his room unless he needed something from the kitchen or needed to tell Yuji something.

Walking up the path, you stepped onto the porch and approached the door. You knocked, hand falling to your side to wait patiently. Moments passed before the door opened, revealing Choso clad in his usual attire of sweats and a black shirt, the only thing missing being his adorable hair bones; tresses resting against his shoulders in a messy fashion.

Your cheeks went warm the moment the male smiled at you, “Hey (Y/N), Yuji didn’t tell me you two were studying today.” His tone was so smooth, pleasant to your ears; head tilted just a bit as he not-so secretly took in your appearance.

“Yeah, well— It was a spontaneous decision. He just wanted to get in a little extra studying before a quiz.”

Choso gave a soft chuckle, “Well.. he double booked. He’s at Megumi’s place right now with Nobara too..” He stepped to the side, opening the door wider and tilting his head to the side in a come in motion, “Come, Ill call him.”

You nodded, a nervous smile pulling your features. “Yeah okay.” Stepping through the threshold you made your way over to the living room, sitting on the couch with your knees pulled close. Choso was close behind you, waltzing over to the other side of the long end furniture to sit down, pressing the phone against his ear.

A comfortable silence entered the room for a moment, you perking up the moment Choso began to speak.

“Yuji, (Y/N) is here to tutor you. You shouldn’t keep her waiting.” He hummed, blinking slowly for a moment before shaking his head. “Alright. See you then.” Pulling the device away from his ear he cut the call, placing it off to the side and glancing at you. “He said sorry, he’ll be here in about forty minutes.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” You smiled, watching as he gave a simple nod back before his eyes turned to the television. Reaching for the remote, he pressed play, Texas Chainsaw Massacre starting up. You sunk into the cushion to get comfortable, deciding to distract yourself from the man you were pining for, literally cushions away from you. As pathetic as it sounded it was hard, eyes stealing glances to his form every so often; mapping his features.

From the way his eyebrows would raise at a particularly gruesome part, or his lip would quirk at something humorous. Of course you would notice such little things, it would be cute if you didn’t find yourself so creepy.

The man shifted in his seat, hips adjusting as his legs spread just a bit wider across the couch. Oh, if you had known any better he did that on purpose just to mess with you.

You finally tore your gaze away, leaning into the arm rest to pretend you just weren’t eye fucking him. Getting caught was the last thing you wanted to happen.

“The movie scaring you or somethin’?” Was what Choso suddenly said, causing you to jump. Your face turned, spotting the male already staring at you, amusement tainting his expression. You shook your head far too quickly. “No. It’s not scaring me.”

His eyebrows rose a bit, turning back to the movie as his arm stretched out upon the back of the couch. “Must be me you’re scared of then.”

A mixture of a surprised scoff and chuckle escaped you, turning a little to face him. “Scared of you?” The questioned rolled of your tongue in a flabbergasted manner, watching the man give a shrug. You smiled with a small shake of your head, “You’re far too nice to be scared of.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” A certain tone hugged his words, the playful atmosphere dissipating instantly. “Its why you can never look me in the eye when we speak.. why you undress me with your eyes when you think I don’t notice.” Your dirty secrets spilled from his lips as if reading from a book. Your eyes widened, watching as he so casually turned back to the movie.

“You.. knew?”

“Mhm.” Again, so nonchalant, so casual. Oblivious to the inner turmoil inside of you. You nervously thumbed the case of your phone, heart threatening to escape your chest as you softly croaked; “Ar.. are you gonna do something about it?”

“You want me to?”

“Yes.” You answered quickly, finally stealing his gaze away from the movie. He was crossing the cushions in minutes, fingers finding your cheeks to pull you into a kiss. Your lips devoured each other, heat resting between the two of you. Fingers trailed down, clasping around your throat as he deepened the kiss. “Slow down, princess; my lips aren’t going anywhere.” Choso murmured against your own, pushing you into the couch. His tongue pushed through your lips easily, curling around your own pink muscle to slowly suck and play with. The man’s free hand carried to your side, thumb pressing against your plump, covered skin; tracing it every so often.

Moments passed before you two pulled apart, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lips as breaths fanned across each other’s faces. Choso pushed forward, lifting you for a moment before resting you in his lap, leaning you against the arm rest. His hands carried across your form, fingers hooking onto the straps of your dress and tugging it down your body, allowing the top to rest at your waist. To his surprise — and enjoyment — you were braless, his eyes feasting away on the sight of your naked breasts; pretty brown mounds with freckles decorating the skin. Choso reached over, grasping both in his large hands, enjoying the way the warmth covered his palms.

One squeeze and you were breathing softly, eyes closing as he leaned into your neck, pressing kisses against your skin. His thumbs rolled across your areola and slowly hardening nipple, pressing them in and simply toying with them. The light pleasure had your hips moving in his lap, hands rising to curl your pretty pink acrylics into his hair, tugging the moment you felt him bite your collarbone.

The love bites didn’t stop there, leading them to the valley between your breast and then over to your right one, tongue tracing your skin; collecting your hard nipple into his mouth. His hips pressed close against your own, tongue circling the bud— continuing to rub the other. Pleasure traveled between your legs, lips parted as soft breaths escaped you. You gasped the moment he gently bit down, fingers tightening in his hair.

“Choso, please..” You called out to him, enjoying the treatment but needing more. You’ve waited far too long for this and were far too needy to go slow. Except, Choso didn’t give a damn about that. Despite the looming threat of his younger brother walking in at anytime, he intended to take his time with you. Torturing you for the torture you put him through daily.

Dressing in those pretty tops that cupped your breasts so nicely, those dresses that hugged your ass and rolls perfectly, let alone how you acted around him; so sweet and shy, yet your eyes would wander. No.. he was going to explore each part of you, no matter how long it took.

So the moment he shook his head you were whining; attempting to grind in his lap only to gasp the moment his palm struck the inside of your thigh. His hand smoothed to ease the pain, other hand moving back to your neck and gently holding it. “You’ll be good and wait.. I’m not rushing with you.”

The moment you pouted his thumb was rising to push against your lips, leaning just a bit closer. “Or I could just walk away now— leaving you all needy and desperate for me. Would you like that instead?” The man could nearly grin at how fast you shook your head, tracing your lips for a moment before moving the digit away to plant a soft kiss against them. “Thought so. Just sit and wait princess, you’ll get what you want.”

With that his hands were tugging your dress down fully, leaving you in black panties and nothing more. Taking in your form, his hands focused on removing his shirt and tossing it beside your clothes. Choso’s hands found your waist, backing away a bit to pull you to lay on the cushions, spreading your legs so one hung over the edge of the couch and one rested on top of it.

You hissed softly as his thumb pushed against your covered slit, rubbing little circles across your bud. Your nails scratched the couch a little, a damp spot collecting on your panties, his pace quickening for a moment before moving his hand to instead pull your panties to the side; revealing your wet sex to him. Choso licked his lips slowly, reaching over with his other hand to rub your uncovered bud with his thumb, watching your legs widen as the pleasure grew.

This continued until two fingers teased your entrance, coating them in your essence before slowly pushing in. The man hissed softly as your walls clenched around his thick digits, continuing to push until he was knuckle deep. Once inside he wasted no time in scissoring and stretching you out, slow deep thrusts carrying in and out of you.

The pleasure formed in the pit of your stomach, leaning your head back as moans escaped you. It was only his fingers yet they felt so good, deeper than your own. Pushing against your gummy walls, brushing against a spot that caused stars to dance in your eyes. He pressed harder on your clit, your back arching as a swear escaped you. “Choso.. oh fuck—“

“Oh, look at that..” Choso drawled softly, soft squelches entering the room with each push inside and out. “Dripping all over my fingers, making such a mess pretty girl.” He smiled at the whine that escaped you, leaning to kiss against the inside of your thigh, biting the warm skin gently just to feel you twitch.

Your hand lowered, clamping around his wrist, feeling his muscles with each thrust of his fingers. Your lips was caught between your teeth, hips moving as your arousal grew; a band forming in your stomach.

Noticing this, his pace quickened, leaning down to stamp kisses against your skin. “Go on princess, fuck your self on my fingers; make me a mess.” He cooed right into your ear, eating up each moan and gasp that escaped your bruised lips. Pushing and pushing your walls clenched around his digits, coming within seconds.

Praise escaped him, fingers fucking you through your high for a moment before slowing down— soon pulling them out of you. He rose his hand to his face, lapping up your juices all while his eyes trailed over your form. Just from his fingers you were panting heavily, eyes glossy and looking at him as if he painted the moon and stars themselves. That look plus your taste was driving him crazy, having half a brain to dive between your legs in search of more.

Instead his hands fell to his sweats, pushing the baggy fabric down along with his boxers; revealing his hard length. The man pushed close, your eyes gazing down, clenching at the fact he reached your belly button. You breathed when you felt his fingers collect your release, spreading it across his cock to lubricate just a bit.

Once satisfied he was grabbing the base, lining up with your entrance and slowly, pushing in. You whimpered softly, feeling the man lean closer, planting a kiss under your eye. “Relax for me (Y/N)..” Choso breathed softly, hand trailing to your knee to lift onto his shoulder, continuing to push in. You relaxed as best as you could, breathing slowly and glancing up at the man who smiled at you. “That’s it.. good girl. I’m almost there.”

You nodded slowly, eyes pinched closed as his hips continued to push forward, stilling the moment he was fully inside. You felt full, his cock pulsating inside you, waiting patiently for you to adjust. You remained still for a few minutes, smiling at the way Choso continued to kiss any spot he could reach. Soon enough you were fine, hips raising to signal the man above you.

He understood quickly, pulling his hips back so only the tip rested in inside; pushing back in slowly. Choso carefully watched as he delivered more experimental thrusts, searching for any discomfort or unhappiness. When neither presented itself all restraints were lost, thrusts increasing in speed and intensity.

Soon enough his weight was placed behind each, fucking you into the cushions all while mumbling praises right into your ear. From how pretty you split around him to how good you felt— each word melting your brain into mush.

Gasps and moans of his name escaped, nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure intensified. You couldn’t think of anything but him, couldn’t feel anything but his cock driving in and out of you; stirring you up, ruining you.

Choso’s hand found your cheeks, tapping his fingers against your cheek as if to pull you back from ecstasy. The man hissed the moment your pretty glossy eyes focused onto his face, “Yeah, focus here sweetheart.. right here. You feel me, how deep am I?” A rhetorical question, he knew enough you were too fucked out to answer such a thing. Too lost to even realize he was far deeper then he should be. So instead of a coherent answer all Choso got was a high pitched cry of his name;

“Choso..! Mmh—!”

“I know my name sweetheart, I asked how deep I was.” The grin he gave was cocky, removing his hand from your face to instead snatch your own from his shoulder; pressing your palm on your stomach. With each ram inside your messy cunt you felt it against your hand, the man pressing even harder just to hear you scream. Your walls clenched around him, sucking him in with each drag of his cock before you shook; creaming all over his length.

Choso breathed at the feeling, looking at where you were connected to spot your mess dripping down his dick, and onto the couch. He would worry about the ruined furniture later; you were top priority at the moment.

His eyes snapped back to your face the moment you began to pant, coming closer all while his hips continued to move. “So fucking pretty (Y/N).. think you can do that again?” Before you could reply Choso was grabbing your arm whilst pulling out of you, turning you on the couch. You braced yourself, hands gripping the armrest as you glanced behind you, spotting the man lining back up with your entrance.

“Choso—!” Your eyes rolled back the moment he thrusted back in, merciless as he fucked you. There was no holding back, rocking your body back and forth between him and the armrest with each thrust. Your nails dug into the furniture, pleasured screams escaping you. His hands were tight on your hips, leaving you with no way to escape.

Legs shaking, sweat settled onto your skin, tired walls clenching around his relentless cock; you were a complete mess. But given how good Choso was fucking you right now— you couldn’t care less.

“Look at that.. fuck—“ Choso gasped out, eyes glued to the way your body shook with each thrust, how your walls clenched around him. His fingers dug into your plump skin, sure to leave marks, reminders of your love making. The man leaned over your withering body, chest flush against your back as he pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear all while his arms wrapped tight around your waist. No more words were needed or rather could be spoke as he drilled into you, your combined breathing covering the room, chasing your releases.

You clenched the armrest so much it began to hurt, eyebrows furrowed closed, nearly drawing blood from how hard you were biting your lip. You were so close, so fucking close it began to hurt; the dam breaking the moment he reached down, circling to fingers against your clit. Your back arched, clamping hard as you came harshly, throat raw and voice abused.

Choso was close behind, pushing in deep and stuffing you full, painting your walls white. Your tired body slumped against the couch, legs shaking, attempting to catch your breath. You whimpered as Choso pulled out, feeling him lift and turn your body to rest against his front; smoothing his fingers across your thigh.

The room was silent, simply basking in his warmth and affection, hand trailing to your ass to gently massage. The gentleness was soon interrupted though when Choso’s phone rang, the man reaching over and picking it up.

Your heart sank seeing the contact name, sitting up to glance at the man with worried eyes. Choso’s hand rose to your cheek, accepting the call. “Hey Yuji, you okay?”

“I’ve been trying to call you to tell you I wanted to reschedule with (Y/N), Nobara and I are gonna stay at Megumi’s! Were you busy or something?”

Choso glanced at you for a moment before looking away with a lopsided smirk. “Or something.. Anyways, I’ll tell (Y/N)— try to be better with your schedule next time.”

Yuji gave a small understood before cutting the call, allowing you to smack Choso’s chest with an irritated expression. The man soothed the area, glancing down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“What if he had walked in?!” You hissed softly, Choso smirking a little, hands resting on your hips.

“You didn’t seem too concerned about it when you were under me.”

#mani writes ━━ ★ #black!reader #jjk x black reader #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #choso kamo x female reader #choso kamo x black reader #choso kamo x y/n #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x reader #choso x female reader #choso kamo smut

[angelltheninth]

I don’t think I’ve seen this yet but I seriously need your thoughts on jjk women (heavy on maki and mai (I’m a lil sad barely anyone talks abt mai! orz) and their gf who surprises them by wearing a lingerie for their birthdays as a lil present hehe (i can’t explain it but there is just smth different with wearing pretty lingerie for a pretty woman… gosh I’m melting, I want to be unwrapped by them)

Yeah a lot of people write for male characters, I think the most I've seen written for female characters is in the Arcane fandom.

Pairing: Nobara, Maki, Mai, Shoko, Utahime x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, kissing, lingerie, stripping, grinding, strap-on use, fingering

A/N: I mostly write requests so if you'd like to request more female characters you can.

Nobara picked out what you should wear, it was more like a gift for you. You thought it was odd for her to give you a gift on her birthday but she liked to spoil you with pretty things. You were her pretty girlfriend after all. Well two could play at that game. The look of surprise on her face when you lifted your skirt and reveled that you were wearing what she bought you... she didn't want to take it off but at the same time... god she was you'd look even better naked and fucking yourself on her tongue.

Maki suspected you had something planned for her birthday given how secretive you were for most of the day and how you shied away from her inquisitive looks. You won't tell her what it is, even with all the kisses she gives you but you do give her a clue, it's something that will require her to get her strap-on. You could have said more but it wasn't needed, she was already running to get it only to come back and see you decked out in pretty lingerie, ready for her to slip it to the side and fuck you all the while you're wearing that pretty gift.

Mai did notice you were taking an unusual amount of time getting dressed for the birthday dinner. Stranger was the fact that you didn't sit across form her, you sat on her lap. She welcomed the closeness always, but couldn't keep focused on the food when her hands wondered beneath your clothes, feeling the real reason you sat on her lap. Expert fingers took your clothes off little by little to reveal the prize underneath. She didn't want to move you, where you were was perfect, your breasts right in her face, so much skin to kiss, while you grind yourself on her thigh, leaving a wet spot as you do so.

Shoko saw you putting the lingerie on but didn't say anything. She would never spoil the surprise you had in store for her. Through the night she shows little ways of appreciation for this gift, kissing you when she can, always holding you close, riling you up with the tiniest touches on your neck and thighs but avoiding the most sensitive spots. Does pretend to be surprised when you reveal yourself to her but the one truly surprised is you when she rejects your offer to eat her out. There's a reason she skipped dessert, she wants to eat you, she wants you to ride her face while keeping that pretty lingerie on.

Utahime wants you to wear that all day for her birthday, only the lingerie and nothing else. That would be the best gift in her opinion, the gift of seeing you looking so sexy for her whenever she turns to kiss you, and your pussy easily accessible for her fingers whenever she wants. No time of that special day is spent without her hands, mouth or eyes on you, drinking in every movement, every reaction up until you strip for her at the end of the night and finally let her give you a gift of her own, the orgasm your pussy has been craving.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nobara x reader #maki x reader #mai x reader #shoko x reader #utahime x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #jujustu kaisen smut #jjk smut #x female reader

[makelemonade]

Test Subject

Characters; Dottore x Female!Reader

pt2

Warnings; 18+, insane probably horribly written smut, aphrodisiacs, non-consensual drugging, you're married to each other, slut-shaming tbh, degrading + slight praise, boob play, bondage, blowjobs, lots of mentions of cum, you're literally his test subject- hence the title, he has a fat cock, subtle ahegao, hentai moaning, fingering, several positions, overstimulation, rough sex, dumbification, oral sex, honestly idek what else just lemme know if i need to put something

Il Dottore was a hard working man; Always doing whatever he can to please his majesty, the Tsaritsa, and always helping out- even if it’s not by his own will- his coworkers.

But he’ll always work the hardest for you- his lovely wife.

He was working on some sort of machine down in his lab, and in full honesty, you were too hungry enough to ask what it was.

Well, you weren’t insanely hungry, but you were parched, and it’s not like you could go around and get food somewhere; You barely knew this castle and you were scared to run into one of the other Harbingers.

Hmm, maybe you could risk it- Childe could’ve been around somewhere and could’ve gotten you some water.

“What’s on your mind, dear?” Dottore asks, still looking down at his…project. He knew you so well. He 

“I’m quite thirsty, my love.” You admit, sheepishly. 

A smirk appears on Dottore’s face as he finally looks away from his project and at you; You were sitting on a steel table- almost like the ones for surgery- dangling your legs.

“I actually have a few drinks down here.”

He walked over to a shelf full of vials, some were full and some were empty. He scanned it for about a minute, until he made a noise, indicating he found what he was looking for. He grabbed two vials, walking back to you.

Handing them to you, you looked at them with hesitance. It was a light pink, but it didn’t look dangerous. It wasn’t bubbling, or smoking. It seemed like water but with food-colouring.

“It’s a sweet drink.” There was something behind his devilish smirk, and you couldn’t read it, but you trusted your husband and chugged both vials.

He just smiled. “Good girl,”

As much as you loved the praise, you were slightly confused, but decided to just let him continue working.

However, in the next few minutes, you noticed that you began too sweat. It was weird, given the fact this laboratory was insanely cold.

You took off your blanket, throwing it to the side, but that did not help, as in the next few minutes, you began to become hotter, to the point you were panting as if you were running a marathon.

You didn’t notice the subtle writing Dottore was doing in his book, and in the next few minutes, you found yourself becoming faint as you started to feel yourself completely aroused to the point it was seeping through your tight clothing.

You were letting out shaky breaths, everything being too hot for you and you laid back onto the steel, the cold table bringing you comfort for about a minute until it was too hot for you.

Your vision slightly blurry, you noticed Dottore now standing above you, his project long forgotten as you were now his new project. 

“Dottore..” You breathed out, and he just smirked down at you before reaching under the table; There were straps under it, and you realized what was happening when one went around your waist.

“Dottore,” You breathed out again. “Did you- did you drug me?!” You panted, and he just laughed. 

“I’ve been meaning to test the aphrodisiac out for a while now. I just needed a perfect time to use it on you.” 

He started to unbutton your shirt and you whined, the touches of his cold fingers on your stomach making you heat up even more somehow.

He took your blouse off and you let out a whimper- he made sure to write that down too.

He reached around to your back, not lifting you up much due to the strap holding you down onto the table. With his might, he yanked at your bra, ripping the back completely and you gasped.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He laughed, throwing the ripped bra to the floor. 

He unbuckled himself, but made no move to take off his pants. Instead he pushed your arms all the way up and you felt too weak to stop him, letting him tie your hands with his belt. 

In seconds, your pants and panties were off- You don’t even know how, but the drug was making everything seem so fast, but at the same time too slow.

You tried to do anything to help your arousal, and even started humping the air but it was helpless with the strap holding you down. Dottore laughed at your attempts.

“You’re so needy, my love. Be patient, dear, I’ll attend to you soon. I just need to see how you react.”

He placed a hand down on your stomach and you gasped, starting to twitch. His other hand started scribbling down in his book as he moved his hand around, and the heat became unbearable once he reached your chest.

“‘Tore,” You whined, then a sharp gasp came out of you as he placed his index and thumb around your hard nipple, starting to pull.

“Nghh-oh!” His mouth moved down, starting to suck on the other one and you started to thrash, but the table could only wobble slightly as you were held down tightly.

“So sensitive,” He breathed out, the breath making your nipple twitch and you whimpered. He started to go a little harsher, his teeth grazingg over your nipple as the only started to twist and pull.

“Oh! Dottore!” You gasped, moaning loudly as he kept up at it and yet somehow his other hand was still scribbling stuff down- how he did it? You had no idea.

You whined when his mouth and fingers left and he spread your legs open a little, the cold air bringing little relief to your seeping pussy. 

“I wouldn’t even be surprised if you almost came from that,” He chuckled, taking a closer to look to see your arousal was now a pool pouring onto the desk, slowly dripping off the sides.

“Let’s see how you beg.” 

You were about to ask what he meant, but let out a loud gasp when his finger to prod at your hole and you moaned, despite the fact he was barely touching it.

He was teasing you, touching you everywhere down there but refusing to finger you.

“Do-dottore,” You whined, trying to thrust your hips towards his fingers but you could hardly move.

“How does It feel, baby?”

“So- so sensitive.” You whined, “I need you.”

He groaned at that, fingers inching a bit closer. “Yeah? How bad?”

“S-so bad..” You slurred, becoming drunk on just his fingers, “need to feel your t-thick fingers..”

You screamed when he plunged two into you, wincing at the pain but moaning at the relief. He slowly began to scissor you, and his fingers were sooo long they reached you so deep.

“Oh-! Nghh, please, pleasepleaseplease”

“Please what?” He chuckled breathlessly. “M-move faster please..”

He grinned, shoving his fingers even deeper as he started to go faster, stretching you wide and you moaned loudly when he added a third finger in.

“FUCK!” You gasped, “fuckfuckfuckfuck!” He started to practically pound you with his fingers once he added a fourth one in, and you found yourself cumming in one minute with a wail, but he didn’t stop.

“T-tore!” You whined, “too-too much!”

But he didn’t stop, instead going faster, and you were thrashing around so much he had to stop writing down stuff with his other hand to hold your waist down, despite the fact you were tied down already.

“DOTTORE! DOTTORE!” You screamed, feeling yourself cum once again; This time, your arousal squirting everywhere to the point it reached his face, spread onto your paper and was on the ground.

He didn’t let his fingers out until you finished, and you let out a wanton moan when his fingers left you.

“Your pussy is gaping over nothing,” The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine. “Dirty slut, squirting over my fingers? My, what a mess you made!”

You panted, feeling absolutely out of it just from squirting, but you needed more. So much more to get rid of this heat.

You heard shuffling, then steps as he walked towards the side of the table to your face. 

He grabbed your head, moving it to the side and you were met to his long, girthy cock that was leaking precum just inches away from your face.

You found yourself sticking your tongue out, reaching to lick the tip and he groaned. “You look like a dog,” He laughed breathlessly, looking at the way your tongue was all the way out, panting. 

“Little bitch in heat,” He spat, “C’mon, suck. Suck like the good slut you are,”

You wasted no time in wrapping your mouth around his dick, struggling in trying to move your head up and down- It was hard when you were tied to a table.

“Insufficient,” He scoffed, but really it was an excuse to loosen the strap to help you move closer to the side of the table. He grabbed the back of your head, shoving you down as you let out a yelp. 

Your nose was right against his pelvis and you started to gag while he just let you sit there and struggle. He let out a groan, then a sigh of content.

He started to move your head up and down, dragging and pulling on your hair. You looked up at him, eyes rolling back as you continued to gag on the Doctors thick cock.

“I love it when you do that,” He panted. “You look so fucking- uh! Sexy…” He started to go faster. “Cockdrunk whore.”

You just moaned at the title and he laughed, “you love it when I degrade you, don’t you? You know, I’m debating on if I want to come in your mouth or all over your face, even when I rail you too.” 

You were becoming dizzy with how fast he was moving you, your throat becoming sore as tears rolled down your cheeks. 

He took another look down at you. “Maybe all over you. I’ll make it a masterpiece.” 

He took his dick out and you gasped, but only to be met with his hot, salty cum all over your face. Dottore not being a human sometimes had it’s perks, because he produced so much more “cum” then anyone as it even reached your chest.

He panted, standing there for a bit. Then, he walked away, and came back holding up a kamera. “Say cheese,”

You were too fucked out of it to react, flinching at the light it produced. He looked at the picture through the lenses and smirked. “I’ll be keeping this one.”

He moved back to his book, writing some more stuff down. He did so quickly, wanted to move onto the fourth and last phase of his project.

He got rid of the strap completely, and you thought it was over- but no, instead he grabbed your hips, dragging you across the table all the way to the end so your bottom half was completely off, your legs over his shoulders.

You gasped at the feeling of his dick prodding at your entrance. “Nghh- Dottore! I’m still s-sensitive!”

He didn’t care, instead pushing his cock all the way in- It stretched you out even more then his fingers and reached places they couldn’t and you wailed.

He didn’t even go slow, instead deciding to go straight into it and fuck you fast and rough. “F-fuck…” He gasped, “You’re so tight, my love. You feel so good, like you were made for me? Wouldn’t you agree? Agree with me, my cocksleeve

“Y-yes!! I-i’m just-nghh- perfect for YOU! Yooourrr cockslEEVE! YOURS!” You screamed as he went even harder, and you felt like you were gonna cum once again.

He could feel it too when you started to tighten, and you screamed when he pushed down onto your stomach. “I-I’ve decided,” He paused to give you a harsh thrust, “That I’ll cum so much, in you and on you.” He laughed, and you came with a scream.

“F-fuckuuhuh! No-no more!”

“Yes more.” He laughed, not stopping. “We have so many more rounds to go, sweetheart. Don’t you wanna be filled up with my cum? Bred? And painted with it too,”

“Y-yes! Yes! Fill me up…fill me up! Please!”

He pulled you closer, instead now moving your legs towards your chest to reach even deeper into you. “NgHH~ oh~ fuck! Y-yes, yes!”

The next hour went by through several different positions; Full nelson, standing full nelson, doggy style, whatever he wanted to take you in! He’d take turns cumming in you and pulling out, and by the end, you were completely passed out, cum all over you and cum pouring out, dripping onto the ground.

He draped your past blanket over you, deciding he’d attend to you in just a minute. He finished writing down his analysis, reading it out loud.

“Subject came a total of 12 times and squirted for 3. Next goal will be 15 and 10; Maybe Pantalone can help out with it.”

#genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #dottore x you #dottore x reader #dottore genshin impact #il dottore #dottore smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #pantalone smut #not rlly but might make a part 2 lols #degredation kink

[vivwritesfics]

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter Six

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

1.2K

Series Masterlist

Oldies night was her favourite. She had her selection of songs in her head, her setlist for the night, going through them as she made her way to the club.

But, when she pushed her way inside, her piano wasn't where she had left it. It was pushed to one side of the stage while other instruments and musical equipment were set up in the centre. "What the fuck," she whispered under her breath.

Moving around the tables, she made her way to the back office. She ignored the urge to shout at the people setting up their instruments as she walked past.

"Y/N." Charles was grinning at her from behind Arthurs desk as she walked into the room. But she ignored them, searching through the papers on the desk for the schedule. "I spoke to Arthur and it took some convincing but-"

"What the fuck?" She cried once she found the schedule. Her normal seven day working week had been changed to just four. Slowly, she raised her head to face him. "Did you speak to Arthur?" She asked quickly, dropping the normal fear that Charles was used to hearing. "Is this because of you?"

He nodded, not quite understanding that she was pissed. "Got Arthur to book someone else for tonight," he said. "I thought I could take you out to dinner, say thank you for the piano lessons."

This was the side of Charles she had been wanting to see ever since she first met him. This side of Charles wasn't terrifying. He was happy and relaxed, and she hated him.

Almost immediately, panic set up. "How the hell am I gonna make rent this month?" Her voice came out as a squeak in panic. She gripped the strap of her bag as she looked at who was replacing her.

She didn't recognise any of the names. Who the hell was Disco Fever Three? "I... do you know where I could find Arthur?" She asked.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, finally getting the hint.

She shook her head as she walked out of the office. "Where are you going?" Charles called after her. "I thought we could get dinner."

But she kept walking. "I... I have things I need to do."

"Y/N!" He shouted, his voice just a little deeper this time. But she kept going, kept walking away from him. And it was making Charles mad. "Y/N!" He stood from the desk and strode towards her.

In four large steps he had reached her. He reached his hand out, grasping her arm. "Go out to dinner with me," he said, but it didn't come out friendly. Not in the slightest. The way he was looking at her, it had her shivering.

"Are you threatening me, Mr Leclerc?"

The grin that overtook his expression was somewhat sinister and his grip grew tighter. "Not threatening, chérie. Just inviting."

She looked away from him, lowered her gaze as she nodded. "Perfect," Charles said. He shut the office door and led the way out to his car.

The restaurant fell hushed when Charles strode in with her on his arm. Suddenly, every patron was nervous. The waitress was sweating as she led them to their seats. 

Desperately she wanted to apologise to the poor waitress, but she couldn't. Another waitress came over and put bread and water on their table, giving them each a menu. 

She didn't look at the menu. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him. Even as she stared, she couldn't get up the courage to say what she really wanted to, to ask why he had brought her there. Part of her didn't want to know, wanted to eat and get out of there. She did have to get on and look for a second job, after all. 

When the waitress came back over, Charles ordered for her. A fancy cocktail and food she hadn't quite caught the name of. No matter what it was, whether she liked it or nit, she'd eat every bite. 

"I can't believe Arthur hasn't given you a day off before today," he said as they waited on their drinks to be brought over. Neither of them could see just how stressed the staff were as they tried to get their orders to them as quickly as possible. 

She couldn't help the scoff that left her lips, immediately covering her mouth with her hand to hide it. But Charles had caught it, levelling her with a somewhat threatening look. "What," he barked. 

She sank in on herself. Fuck, she really hoped that he hadn't seen. "Nothing," she said and cleared her throat. "It's just, Arthur hasn't given me a day off because I don’t want one. He pays me as much as he can, and that barely makes up my rent." She sighed through her nose as her drink was placed in front of her. She wasn't going to admit it, but the drink was needed. 

Charles let out a sigh. "And if you can't make rent you'll have to "borrow" from us, which would put you in an even worse position," he said and she nodded. 

He knew what he had to do. But Charles wouldn't apologise for taking her much needed performances away from her. He'd fix it as best he could, but never admit he was wrong. 

A restaurant wasn't the right setting, that was for sure. Charles maintained his tough, terrifying persona until they left the restaurant, climbing back into his car. 

"Where do you live?" He asked as he fiddled with the radio. 

She shook her head. "You can just take me back to the lounge, if you'd like," she said, her hands folded neatly in her lap. 

"Don't be stupid,"he immediately replied. "Give me the address, now."

That was all she needed before she let her street and building name fall from her lips. She didn’t want Charles to know where she lived, but now she didn’t have much of a choice. 

What she didn’t know as she climbed out of the car, was that Charles had an idea. There was a reason why he had asked for her address, reason why he wanted to know where she lived.

If she couldn’t pay rent, he was going to do something about it. 

As soon as she was inside, Charles drove back to the lounge. He hadn’t stopped thinking about the evening. It didn’t go the way he had imagined, not in the slightest. He hadn’t wanted to threaten her, but his instincts had taken over. If she had just gone along with it, they could have had a nice evening. But now, well, the entire evening left a sour taste in his mouth. 

He parked up outside of the club and climbed out of the car. Music could be heard coming from inside, but it wasn’t as good as she was on the piano. He walked in and strode past the full tables, heading towards the back office. 

“Did you tell her?” Asked Arthur as he strode in. The younger Leclerc had waited until Charles had gotten her out of the club to start working.

Charles sat in the seat opposite him. He scowled at his brother. “You’re a coward.”

“You’re the one who wanted her hours cut. And I’m guessing she hates you for it.”

Charles deflated in his chair. “How do I fix it?”

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#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader smut #charles leclerc x you #cl16 #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

[obesogen]

You introduce yourself to someone

"Hi, so-and-so, I'm ..." and you think that you say your name,

but your plump hands, slightly sweaty,

and your swollen forearms, encroaching on small wrists,

your upper arms role-poly like the Michelin man,

and your wide, sloppy, drooping gut,

which is in theory fully covered by a shirt

barely tho;

your deep, wide belly button visible through thin fabric, stretched taut, 12x getting too small,

and let's not forget your double chin,

your soft pillowy neck roll,

your dewlap, a perfectly closed collar of squishy fat that

your tiny features sink into–

these things say

hi so-and-so,

i'm super obese, morbidly obese, obese class III,

i'm permanently disabled by how fat i have become

i'm the fattest person you have ever had to speak to

i'm the fattest person you have ever seen in person

and not on the tv freak show

hi so and so, i'm severely mentally ill

hi so and so, i'm traumatized

hi so and so, i am addicted to food

hi so and so, i have no impulse control

hi so and so, i'm ... what's your name again?

you are no one, nothing,

all you are and all you can ever be is gloriously obese beyond the frenzied imaginings of our starving ancestors who carved the venus of willendorf

you are stuffed to the point of near-bursting; even the backs of your neck rolls are frosted with stretch marks. the body always finds somewhere to store fat, and with all the usual spots so filled to the brim, you notice eventually even your forehead is fat; a deposit of soft tissue that furrows above your brows, like a sharpei.

Not long after you got a second mobility aid for out in public, a powerchair with a capaciity of 1100 pounds and hydraulic suspension and tread on its 8 tires like a tank, you started using your old one around the house, always on the verge of breaking down under the additional 200 pounds you carry beyond its rated 500 pound capacity. Not long after, unthinkingly, you just stopped walking, out of sheer bone-idleness. You couldn't say when your last day on your feet was, you surrendered sooner than that day came, comfortably dependent.

Months later, you dimly attempt to recall when you last moved, standing, from one point in space to another. Until the last month, you could still, barely, haul yourself up using a bar to support and balance yourself. From being pushed up out of your powerchair with a forward lift, to the belly gathering momentum and sliding down, to you standing shakily and taking one shuffling step to reposition your body so you can transfer from one big chair to another big chair, and from one big chair to the big motorized bariatric hospital bed.

Now, just 20 pounds later, you can't move your blob body hardly at all below your greedy mouth with its greasy, parted, mouthbreathing lips and beyond your wriggling sausage link fingers. You cannot move any other part of your body without needing help. You are not to your knowledge paralyzed really in any way, you just shamelessly became too fat to lift your own arms, you press a button on a remote that must be attached to your fat hand since if you drop it you couldn't even retrieve it with a string, you are just that weak– so thoroughly inhabiting how obese you are through the total abdication of all decisions.

Once the support bar began to gather dust and was eventually packed away- you become adjusted to transfering from place to place using motorized cranes and winches, your fat slab form filling huge slings with tough straps, prone and helpless, drowning beneath countless rolls, lovingly oiled machinery creaking as it hefts your megafat body.

Your muscles are so weak and your limbs are so heavy. You still have the urge to to struggle and sweat to lift another treat to your bottomless pit of a stomach. You are estimated to be able to hold several gallons in there before feeling sick from fullness.

Most days you simply lie expectantly and grunt with your mouth open, eating everything you are given by any of your staff or acolytes, and sucking melted ice cream sludge from one tube, or chugging diet coke or (regular) mountain dew from 2 different (fountain) tubes.

Turns out there's more than irony to research suggesting artificial sweeteners like aspartame provoke intense cravings for actual sugar.

You are fat beyond reason. Only the most depraved massive, disabling, immobilizing obesity fetishists could find your tremendous doughy body, with a belly so outsized you must be buckled into powerchairs and scooters and even the shower chair. If you don't endure the humiliation of being buckled into the modern day litter which drags your fat around, your unwieldy pannus threatens to upset your vehicle, tipping you forward and pulling you down– you know you would be left on the floor gasping, unable to even sit up, defenseless, amorphous.

And besides,

you forgot your name anyway

years ago,

dont you remember? my

pitiful

swollen

hog.

#obesogen blog: stimulant fueled obesity gooning #death feedee #death feederism #extremely obese #obese piggy #death feedist #glorify obesity #wg text

[nohoney]

When Bakugou returns from the gym and steps inside the apartment he shares with you, he smells the aroma one of his favorite takeout place and walks towards the kitchen after removing his gym shoes. There on the kitchen table are two styrofoam boxes that he sees are bulging from being packed inside with food. The old couple that runs the little eatery always serves extra portions whenever he walks in and the treatment is no different when you order from that place as well. He even sees a little paper bag of egg rolls too with the little side of sauce already pulled out to the side.

You bought lunch for him, which surprises Bakugou considering you and him had an argument last night.

He knows that it was a dumb argument that happened last night, something about car keys or maybe it was about the car itself. He’s not sure, Bakugou just remembers that it had something to do with the car and it ended with you sleeping with your back towards him. Naturally since you chose not to speak to him, he chose to also not to speak to you which was an issue the relationship was still learning to deal with. You and him both knew it wasn’t healthy to deal with your problems in that way.

The usual routine is that there would be silence for three days so the two of you are skirting around one another for a bit until either one of you present the olive branch to the other; the person’s favorite takeout food.

This is the first that you’ve reached out so soon to make amends, especially in the span of less than 24 hours.

Bakugou thinks that maybe that’s some good progress.

You come out from the bedroom dressed in your lounging shorts and your favorite big t-shirt (his shirt) and immediately go to him. Obviously he came from the gym so you stop just right in front of him and he sees how you move in that familiar motion to give him a kiss.

He meets you in the middle with a quick peck.

“‘M sorry baby, don’t wanna fight with you.” You tell him as you help slip off the strap to his gym bag on his shoulder and set it to the side in the hallway.

He gives his own apology, “Me too, I’m sorry for not listening to you yesterday.”

Just a simple apology is what’s needed to amend the little spat. If Bakugou hadn’t just returned from the gym then he would have given you a hug and rubbed his hand along your back to comfort you. But that has to wait until after he’s showered and after he’s had lunch. He had a nice long session at the gym and now he’s ready to replenish the calories he burned from weight lifting today.

You and him sit down, but you make sure to inspect the containers inside first before pushing his box towards him. Your orders are almost identical except you tend to get an extra side of veggies or crab rangoons sometimes depending on your mood. Bakugou’s order is always the same thing every single time though; half fried rice and chow mein, sautéed vegetables, and broccoli beef.

“Thank you baby, I appreciate it.” He tells you, nudging his foot against yours underneath the table.

Bakugou is famished.

He’s looking forward to food.

He’s happy that you and him made up.

He opens the lid to his styrofoam container and…

He can’t believe you.

“What the fuck?”

You look up at him, already having taken a forkful of your food and are busy chewing it. It’s not polite to talk with your mouthful but on the rare occasion you do, you put a hand over your mouth for a bit of privacy and also to be courteous so that no one sees you talk while you chew. So you do so and ask Bakugou, “What is it baby? It’s your favorites.”

“Yeah I can see that but why,” Bakugou flips the box in your direction so that you can see his food, “are all the tops of the broccoli fucking gone?!”

True to what he says, the green little vegetable tops are not attached to the stalk of it.

You swallow your food after a thorough chewing and nonchalantly say, “I didn’t want you to have them.”

“What the fuck? Why?!” Bakugou asks, unbelieving of this level of pettiness coming from you!

“Because I’m still mad at you, but I also didn’t want us to fight anymore. So there.” You inform your boyfriend as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Eat Katsuki.”

Bakugou inspects the broccoli stalks and sees the ridges of teeth marks on it so you didn’t even bother to take them out individually and cut off the florets with a knife. You literally just bit off the tops and put the stalks back in his food. But the question begs where exactly did the best part of the vegetable go?

You answer his silent question by lifting your fork and see a little broccoli floret speared through the prongs.

And you eat it in front of him.

This could be something to have another minor argument over.

Why would you get food as a means of making up if you were only going to spite him anyway? Why do something as petty as bite off broccoli heads when you know he enjoys the crunch of them? Why even bother apologizing when you just told him that you were still a little mad?

But Bakugou also realizes that you are still trying to make up with him and that you just added one slight jab to him, nothing that actually hurts his pride whatsoever. It’s barely an inconvenience, just a little blip is what it is as you eat another floret and wait for him to say something.

I’m making up with you but also letting you know that I’m still a little mad.

He decides that it’s okay and to let this be for what it is overall; an attempt to make up. This can just be a funny story later on that you tell your friends and it will be at his expense but not by much.

So Bakugou just merely picks up his utensils and tells you, “Thank you for getting lunch baby.”

You smile at him before extending your fork out towards him, a broccoli floret at the end of it and offered to him.

Maybe it’s not a huge milestone in how the two of you make up after a fight, but it’s an improvement nonetheless.

-i did in fact actually do this to my ex one time and we actually still laugh about it when it comes up

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bnha x reader

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Pretty One

Pairing(s): Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

Summary: A quiet day with your girlfriend ends with you having to leave your home when Natasha shows up in search for Yelena.

Word Count: 1,454

Warnings: Violence

Authors Note: This is based off of/inspired by the scene from Black Widow!

You were currently laid on the sofa, snuggled up to your girlfriend. Her head rested on a pillow against the arm of the couch whilst your head was lying on her shoulder, her arms wrapped securely around you.

She had returned from a quick trip to the corner store just a couple hours ago for some basic food items when you got comfy on the cushions, and turned on some random show on the television.

You were quite interested in the show at first, but that was before Yelena began to card her fingers through your hair and caress your back with her calloused, yet extremely gentle hands.

The comforting actions from her had you dozing off. Not into a sound sleep per say, but into a very relaxed and tranquil state, so you were no longer focused on the show that still lightly ran in the background.

Yelena on the other hand was unsuccessful with paying attention to the plot at all when she had what she believed was a real life angel laying right in her arms, toying with the strap of the white tank top she wore.

Your mouth opened into a yawn as Yelena continued to play with your hair, "Tired? I know you didn't really sleep that well last night." she asked.

You shook your head, "No, just really content with you." you mumbled in response.

Yelena never thought she could make anyone feel anything other than pain and suffering after her time in the red room. But then she met you who introduced her to the world of emotions; the main one being love. The kind that everyone hopes and dreams for, but not everyone gets.

She turned to kiss your temple, "I love you, detka (baby), so much." she whispered against your head. "I love you too, Lena." you said the words back to her with just as much meaning.

A few moments of comfortable silence went by before she spoke up again, "What if we just ran away." she suggested.

"Ran away?" you repeated with a giggle and she hummed, lightly chuckling.

"Yeah, you know just go wherever our hearts take us and never look back." she elaborated on her out of the blue idea.

"Where would we go?" you questioned.

Yelena shrugged her shoulders, "Anywhere you want to." You thought for a moment before responding,

"I've always wanted to go to London."

"Then we'll start with London. And then maybe we'll go to Paris because it's the city of love, and well, you are my love." she said, making you giggle once again.

You continued to talk about that for a little bit before returning to the calming quietness of just your slow breathing and the television. This time you both had almost fallen asleep until Yelena froze. If there was anything being a trained ex assassin had given her, it was heightened senses.

She knew that something was not right, and the fact that she had you with her right now made her protective instincts immediately set off sirens in her brain.

"You okay, Lena?" you asked, feeling her body suddenly tense up.

Yelena gently sat up and untangled herself from you, making a frown form on your face.

"Where are you going?" you asked, opening your eyes to see her standing up.

"Dorogaya (darling), I need you to go into the other room and stay there. Do not come out until I come to get you myself." Yelena tells you.

"What?" you sat up in confusion.

"I know this sounds weird but I just need you to trust me, okay?" she spoke as she pulled a gun out from under the couch cushion, making your eyes slightly widen.

"What— what's going on? Is someone here?" you said in a panic, watching as she slipped on her blazer that was laying on a chair.

She contemplated her next words as she didn't want you to scare you, but she also didn't want to lie to you, "That's what I'm going to find out. But first I need to know that you're safe before I go anywhere. So please, just trust me." Yelena spoke softly to calm you.

You hesitantly nodded your head, and she took that as her cue to take your hand and lead you to the other room. She stopped in front of your wardrobe and opened the door, "Stay here, and wait for me to come get you."

She pressed a kiss to your forehead after you sat down. You murmured an 'Okay' before she shut the door and her footsteps disappeared down the hallway.

~~~

Meanwhile, Yelena made sure her gun was loaded before holding it out in front of her, "I know you're out there." her voice echoed through the apartment.

A few seconds passed before another voice responded, "I know you know I'm out here." it spoke, followed by the front door loudly opening and closing.

"Then why are you skulking about like it's a minefield?" you heard your girlfriend say.

"Cause I don't know if I can trust you." the voice that was unknown to you answered.

You could hear Yelena lightly chuckle, "Funny, I was going to say the same thing."

"So, are we gonna talk like grown-ups?" the intruder asked.

Yelena's tone dropped lowly, "Is that what we are?"

You couldn't see it, but Yelena and the owner of the unrecognizable voice were finally face to face, each pointing a gun at the other.

For a few moments you could only hear shoes patting against the floor when your girlfriends voice threatened, "Put it down before I make you."

"You put yours down." the voice shot back, "Watch your step."

Nothing but an eerie silence could be heard by your ears. That was until Yelena and the stranger decided to quit the small talk and handle the situation in a different manner.

It was clear to you that they were now fighting from the loud crashes and shouting that rang through the apartment floor. Objects were smashed, glass was shattering, furniture was breaking. You knew that your girlfriends was significantly more than capable of handling herself, but you were still worried about her.

You weren't exactly sure how long the commotion had gone on for when you finally heard the voice speak again, "Truce." it said. It scared you that Yelena sounded like she was gasping for air.

"You've grown up." the stranger commented.

'Grown up?' you thought. 'Did Yelena know this person? Why are they here? Why were trying to hurt your girlfriend?'

"No shit." Yelena responded coldly. You could hear footsteps coming closer to you when the door opened, revealing your Lena.

Her hair was tousled and she looked as if she had just ran a marathon, but it was her. She was seemingly unharmed, but you just had to make sure.

You cupped her face as she kneeled in front of you, "Lena? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" your eyes concerningly scanned her body.

"I'm alright, printsessa (princess), I promise." she reassured you.

Yelena caught you when you threw yourself into her arms and wrapped yours around her neck to hold her close, not caring about how sweaty she might be.

"Hey dorogaya, I need you to do something for me, okay?" she said as she pulled back.

You hummed, wordlessly telling her to continue, "You know those bags we have packed for emergencies under the bed in our room?" Yelena asked and you nodded, "I need you to go grab them for me, okay?"

You both knew that eventually you would have to get up and leave. With Yelena being a trained ex assassin she had inevitably made some enemies. You just didn't expect that day to come so soon.

So you knowingly complied, standing to your feet with her. When Yelena moved out from in front of you so you could walk away, you saw who you believed to be the intruder standing just a few feet away.

She had fiery red hair that was styled into a braid, and wore an all black outfit. You coward under her rather intimidating gaze, realizing that this stranger who just attacked your girlfriend had just watched your whole encounter.

You felt a hand rest on the small of your back, recognizing it as Yelena's, "Ignore her, detka (baby). She won't hurt you." she said, pressing a kiss to your hair as she gave her sister a warning glance.

Yelena gave you a nod when you looked at her for you to go ahead and leave the room. You quickly walked passed the redhead who looked at her younger sister with her signature smirk.

"She’s a pretty one." Natasha stated.

Yelena rolled her eyes, "Shut up."

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x female reader #yelena marvel #yelena belova #yelena mcu #yelena x you #yelena x reader #yelena x y/n #yelena black widow

[jpmarvel90]

Biggest Mistake

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Relationship: Natasha x Reader

Summary: Breaking up with Y/n when she got the offer to join the Avengers, Natasha cut all ties with her ex girlfriend. What will happen when she sees her many years later?

Word Count: 5856

Y/n's POV:

Hearing my beautiful daughters laugh was my favourite thing. She was 4 years old and the apple of my eye. I would do anything for her. This morning we were getting ready for our day out to the park. I had it all planned out, we were going to go to the play park and then my best friend was going to join us for a picnic by the pond where Mia would be able to feed the ducks after.

I had grabbed a couple of Mia's toys to keep her entertained and finish packing up all of the food ready to head out. Mia was excitedly sat in the lounge clinging onto her favourite teddy. It had been given to her by her Auntie Maria the day she was born, and she was never without it.

I walked over and bent down to pick up the excited 4 year old. "Are you ready for our adventure at the park princess?" I asked as she snuggled into my side. "I want to feed the duckies!" She squealed and it made my heart melt. "Ok, come on then, let's get going." I said, grabbing the cooler backpack of food and my bag.

We made out way down to the car and I strapped Mia in. As we drove, we sang along to our favourite Disney songs and in this moment, I was at my happiest. Mia was my entire world and to see her happy and healthy was the only thing I ever wanted in life.

Once we arrive, we quickly make our way over to the kids play area. It's a warm LA morning, perfect for everything we want to do today. Mia quickly makes her way over to the park and is running around trying everything she could. I sat on the bench next to the park and watched her as she enjoyed herself, happily joining in with the other kids as well.

I always felt that I wasn't quite enough for Mia. It was tough being a single mom, especially when Mia was a miracle child. You see, I used to work for SHIELD and was really good friends with Bruce Banner. I was good at science and worked with him in his lab on a number of occasions.

When I had started at SHIELD as a new agent, Natasha Romanoff had not long been recruited. We ended up moving through the ranks together and ended up in a relationship. I adored her and I saw myself spending the rest of my life with her. We were together for 4 years and had decided to start a family together. This is where Bruce came in.

One day when I was working in the lab with him, I had told him how Nat and I were looking to have a child and discussed the process of IVF. It was at this point he offered to look into a way that we could have a child that was biologically both of ours. When I told Natasha she was incredibly happy.

It took a few months before Bruce was able to perfect the procedure. Turns out that was the easy part. As Nat was unable to have kids, it was down to me carry the baby. We went through 8 tries and none were taking. There was no medical reason why, some would just not take, others would and then I would miscarry early on in the pregnancy.

Just as I had gone through the procedure for the ninth time, Nat was offered a place with the newly formed Avengers. I was so excited for her. No matter how much good she had done in the world, she always felt that she had to make up for her past. The Avengers would give her the perfect opportunity for that. What I didn't realise is that this would result in the end of our relationship.

I came home from work one evening and Nat had packed up all of her stuff and was sat waiting by the front door. "Nat, what's all this?" I asked nervously. "I'm leaving Y/n." She said shortly. It caught me so off guard. "I'm sorry what?" I said almost in a chuckle. "I need to focus all of my energy on working with the Avengers. I can't have any distractions anymore. I've packed all my stuff up. You can stay here as long as you want." She said in such a cold manner.

This wasn't the Nat I knew. I knew how ambitious she was with work, and I would never have stood in the way of that, she knew that. My heart was breaking that the woman that I loved more than anything in this world was leaving me. "Is this some sick joke? We're trying for a kid Natasha! You can't just leave." I yelled, my anger taking over.

"We've tried so many times and it's not working Y/n. It's clearly not meant to be. I can make a difference here and I can't do that if I'm being held back." She defended. That felt like a punch to the stomach. "Ok so maybe we can't have a kid this way, but we talked about adopting if it didn't work. What's changed Nat?" I asked, tears starting to fall down my face.

She stood up and grabbed her bags making her way to the door. "I don't love you anymore Y/n." Her words cut through me like a knife. There was no emotion. 4 years and this is how it all ends. I consider going after her, but I know Nat. When she has made up her mind, there is nothing you can do to change it.

I called my best friend Maria who was over within minutes. I knew Maria from my time at SHEILD. She had worked her way up to be Fury's second and I was incredible proud of her. She spent the evening cursing off Natasha and telling me I could do better.

Knowing that I couldn't bare to be around Nat after everything that had happened, I requested a transfer to the LA branch, much to Maria's frustration. Thankfully it was granted, and I was packed and moved within a week. Before I left, I went to visit Bruce for a check up after the finally attempt. My heart broke when Bruce told me that the initial test showed that it was likely that the attempt had been unsuccessful.

Usually, he would do the test a few weeks later than this as the test is more accurate, but as I was leaving, he agreed to do it early. I thanked him for all the effort he had gone through to try and help Nat and I have a kid. He was sorry for how everything had ended, and I promised to keep in touch.

I had been in LA for 6 weeks when I started to throw up and feel run down. I hadn't noticed that I had missed my period as everything had been so stressful with the breakup and subsequent move. Everything was pointing to the fact that I was pregnant, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. I called Bruce and he flew out and met me at the lab in LA where he confirmed that I was indeed pregnant with Nat's baby. Well, this was awkward.

I tried to get into contact with Nat, but she blocked all my attempts to contact her. I even asked Maria to try to talk to her, but she was quickly shut down. I knew I wouldn't get back with Nat, but she had a right to know that she had a kid. After I exhausted all opportunities of telling her, I gave up and came to terms with being a single mom.

Maria was there for me the whole way and took a temporary transfer to LA to support me. I decided to leave SHIELD as it wasn't safe to have a job like that and a kid. Thankfully Bruce was able to set me up with a friend of his who gave me a job in their lab. I loved the job, and they were very understanding of my situation.

So now, here I am with my beautiful 4-year-old daughter, waiting for my best friend to join us for lunch. Mia looked a lot like me, apart for her green eyes and gorgeous smile. Her personality, however, was very much like Natasha's. She was smart, strong, stubborn but also incredible kind and loving. She was the best of both of us.

Mia had tired herself out on the play park, so we made our way to the pond. I found a good spot under a tree which provided us some shade from the afternoon sun. Whilst I was getting the food out of the cooler, I heard Mia call out. "AUNTIE MARIA!" I looked up to see Mia run full pelt at Maria who picked her up and spun her around. "Hi there little Monkey!" She greeted, walking over to join me on the picnic blanket.

Maria knelt down and placed Mia on the blanket and then lent over to pulled me in a hug, placing a kiss on my forehead. "Hi Y/n/n. You do not know how much I've been looking forward to this weekend." She said, laying flat on her back, letting out an exaggerated huff. "Work is manic as ever then?" I asked with a chuckle, passing her a plate.

She sat up and perked up when she saw the array of food in front of her. "It's just been endless missions since the fight in Sokovia. A weekend with my two favourite girls is well needed." She said, rolling over and giving Mia a tickle.  "Well, Mia couldn't wait for you to visit. I don't think you'll be getting a restful weekend!" I joked.

We spent the rest of the afternoon eating the rest of the food, feeding the ducks, and playing around in the park. We were all really tired from the running around, so the evening was spent watching movies and eating take out in our pyjamas. We were halfway through Toy Story when there was a knock at the door. "Are you expecting anyone?" Maria asked as we both peered up at the door. "No, I'm a lonely single mom, no one ever visits me." I respond.

I pull myself up from the sofa to answer the door and chuckle as Maria makes her way to her bag to grab her gun. "Seriously Maria, please don't shot my neighbours." I tease, which just earns an eye roll. Unclipping the chain and turning the lock, I'm frozen to the spot as I open the door and see the person stood in front of me. "Hi Y/n."

Nat's POV:

5 years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life. I broke up with the woman that I was madly in love with. But at the time, I thought it was the right decision. As soon as I was offered a place with the Avengers initiative, I knew it was a chance to help clear my ledger. It was an opportunity I couldn't say no to, and I thought that it was something I couldn't do along side being in a loving relationship with a kid.

I was heartbroken when all of our tries for a child had been unsuccessful. But I guess it was all a blessing in disguise. I lied when I told Y/n that I didn't love her anymore. But I knew it was the only way to make her not fight for me. I stupidly put work first without even entertaining the idea of being able to juggle both. It's so stupid when I see Clint do it with relative ease.

At first Y/n left me alone and I was gratefully for that. But then about 2 months after she kept trying to get a hold of me. I ignored or blocked every method she used to talk to me. I had to focus. Maria even tried to talk to me, but I quickly told her to back off, not wanting to hear it.

It wasn't until the battle of New York, that I realised the mistake that I had made. At the beginning, I was able to bury myself in work and ignore all my feelings. But when I saw the apartment block that Y/n and I shared, get flattened, I realised that I had no idea where she was or if she was even safe. It gave me this feeling of complete helplessness. I felt sick to my stomach at the thoughts of something happening to her.

After we won, I tried to find her, but she had left SHIELD and New York. I regretted that I had ever let her go. She was the most incredible person I had ever met. I just wish I had put her first all those years ago like she did me.

Wanda, Steve and I had been sent on a recon mission in LA. There was a possible Hydra agent living a normal life waiting for his moment to attack. He had a wife and kids, and we were going to find out as much info as we could. We had been here for a week and were now staking him out at the park with his family. Whilst Steve was jogging around, Wanda and I were sat at the café by the pond. We had spent a couple hours observing their movements and were getting ready to leave when Wanda grabbed my arm.

"Oh my God is that Y/n?" She said in shock. I looked over to where she was staring and sure enough, there was Y/n setting up a picnic blanket under a tree. My heart then stopped when I saw he pick up a little girl and place her on the mat. I couldn't speak, my feet were rooted to the spot.

Wanda was able to pull me in the direction a bench where we could sit and observe her. She looked amazing. It looked like she hadn't aged at all in the last 5 years. Her hair was her natural brown colour which looked really good. When we were together, she always had her hair dyed blonde. I was trying to work out the relationship that Y/n had to the child. I couldn't see the child very well, but she looked similar to Y/n.

It broke my heart to think that she has probably gotten married and had a family of her own now. I had missed my chance. "AUNTIE MARIA!" We heard the little child shout. That's when we noticed Agent Hill making her way over to the duo. Wanda and I both sat there shocked. I knew that Y/n and Maria were best friends, but why didn't Maria tell me Y/n had a family?

We watched as they ate and then started to chase each other around. By this point Steve had joined us and had the same reaction that we did. Y/n was currently "it" and was chasing the little girl around who was giggle. God that's a cute laugh. As Y/n caught her she started tickling her causing the child to yell out "STOP IT MAMA!" And there it was. It was her daughter. They looked happy. I guess that's what was important.

After Y/n had left the park, we remained on the bench. I couldn't bring myself to move so both Steve and Wanda stayed with me to comfort me. They both knew how much I wanted to try and reconcile with Y/n over the last few years. "She must have moved on pretty quickly if she's got a kid that old." Steve said with a slightly judgemental tone.

It was in the moment that it clicked. "How old would you say she is?" I asked. They both guessed around 4 and that was exactly the answer I didn't want. "Oh my God. I need to call Bruce." I said in a panic. I fumbled around in my pocket and dialled his number. It rang a couple of times before he answered.

Bruce: Hi Nat, how's the mission going?

Nat: Boring, but that's not the reason I'm calling.

I was very short on the phone. I had a feeling that he had been hiding things from me and I just wanted to know the truth.

Bruce: Ok. Straight to business. What is it you need?

I took a deep breath before asking my question.

Nat: Did Y/n carry on trying to have a baby after we broke up?

I rushed the question out and my heart was pounding whilst I waited for his response.

Bruce: No she didn't.

His answer was short and didn't help me at all until my slow mind started to catch up.

Nat: It was successful, wasn't it? The last time we tried.

I could feel tears starting to sting my eyes as Steve and Wanda sat with confused looks on their faces.

Bruce: Yes. But Nat, you shouldn't be having this conversation with me.

Nat: Then who am I meant to have it with. I've got a kid I didn't know about. How could she not tell me?!

I shouted down the phone, my anger filling me. I couldn't believe that she was pregnant, and she didn't tell me. I had a right to know that I had a kid.

Bruce: Nat, she tried to tell you but you shut down every form of communication with her. You even told Maria that you didn't want anything to do with her and that nothing would change your mind. I understand that you're angry, but you left Y/n. She's had to deal with this all on her own for the last 4 years because the person she was in love with decided she didn't love her any more.

I hadn't heard Bruce get frustrated like this before. Him and Y/n were close and he had gone out of his way to help us when we were trying to have kids. He was right. I had shut her out. I had no one to blame but myself.

Nat: Do you know where she lives?

Bruce: Nat, I don't think that's...

Nat: No Bruce, I need to try and make it right. Please just give me her address.

Bruce: Fine, but if you hurt her even more Nat, I'll make sure you don't get any opportunity to be in that kids life.

Nat: I promise you Bruce, I never want to hurt her again.

I hung up and was met by a text from Bruce with Y/n's address. I looked up and saw Wanda and Steve looking at me waiting for answers. "The little girl...she's mine." I whispered, tears now starting to fall. I heard Wanda let out a small gasp. "What are you going to do?" Steve asked, whilst Wanda placed her arm around my shoulder. "I need to go and see her. Can I take some time this evening?" I asked Steve.

He quickly nodded. "Of course, Wanda and I can write the report and if needed, do the stake out tomorrow. You focus on Y/n and your daughter." He smiled. That felt weird. My daughter. But what if Y/n doesn't want me in their life. I've not exactly done anything to deserve it.

Later that evening I pull up at the house in the suburbs. I'm incredibly nervous, what if she just slams the door in my face? Plucking the small amount of courage that I have I make my way up the pathway to the door. I ring the bell and hear muffled talking from inside. When Y/n opens the door, she looks like she's seen a ghost. "Hi Y/n." Is all I'm able to get out.

We stand in the doorway for a moment before Y/n seems to snap out of her trance. "What are you doing here Natasha?" She asked. Her voice was cold. "I-uh. Could we talk?" I asked tentatively. She sighed but nodded. Moving away from the door she gestured for me to come in. I noticed that Agent Hill was stood in the hallway, her gun clutched in her hand and her jaw clenched.

"Maria, can you take Mia upstairs please?" Y/n asked to which Hill complied with instantly. Mia, what a beautiful name. Hill made her way to the sofa and picked up the little girl, making her way upstairs. I wanted nothing more than to get a proper look at her and to hold her, but I knew I had to earn that. I turned my attention to Y/n who had made her way into the kitchen to grab a beer.

"Want one?" She asked holding one out in my direction. "Thanks." I said as I grabbed it, cracking open the top. The silence was awkward. I hadn't seen Y/n since the day since we broke up and I missed her and her touch. "I'm sorry." I mumble. Y/n looks up at me from her seat at the kitchen island. She doesn't say anything, clearly waiting for me to continue.

I took a deep breath. "I made a big mistake when I left you. I was so focused on making up for everything in my past that I gave up the one thing that I had ever loved." I started, but Y/n just laughed. "I know you have no reason to believe me but I never stopped loving you. I only said I didn't to make the breakup easier for me. I've been trying to find you since the battle of New York, but when I realised how you were gone, I accepted that I had to let you go." I said, with sorrow in my voice.

I can't get a read on Y/n. I have always been able to understand what she is feeling but in this moment, I have no idea. "So why are you here now?" She asked, taking a swig of her beer. "To be honest it was a coincidence, but I'm so happy it happened. We were on a stake out in the park when I saw you there with um, with your daughter." I briefly explained, hesitating when bringing up Mia. "Y/n I never should have left you and I certainly should never have shut you out when you tried to get into contact." I said, trying to convey how sorry I was. "If I had known why I would have come to you straight away." I carried on.

"But would you have stayed had you known? The day you left, you made it pretty clear that having a family would have been an inconvenience to you." Y/n spoke calmly. I couldn't answer her, she was right. "Her name is Mia by the way. She was born on the 9th of July, weighing 6 pounds 3 ounces. I was in labour for 18 hours. She is the best thing in my life. In fact, the best thing to ever happen in my life. You missed out on that." She said, getting up and moving into the lounge.

I got up and followed her like a lost puppy. She was right, I had missed out on so much. "When I saw you in the park earlier, you looked happy. I thought that you had found someone else and started a family. That felt like a dagger to my heart. But when I found out she was mine, I felt so incredible happy. It was short lived though when I remembered that I had missed out on the first 4 years of her life." I said through tears. "I should have been there for you during your pregnancy getting all of your cravings. I should have been there holding your hand whilst you were in labour and I should have been there to watch her grow up. I will forever hate myself for missing that."

Y/n looked up at me. "What is it that you want Nat?" She asked almost frustrated. "You." I said without a hesitation.  "I want you and to be in Mia's life. For us to be a family."  Y/n just scoffed. "You can be apart of her life if that's something you want." "And us?" I asked hopefully. "There isn't an us Natasha. You broke my heart. You can't just walk in here and expect me to turn around and jump back into a relationship with you. But I will never stop you seeing you daughter if that's what you want."

I did want Mia in my life. But I want us to be a family. I love Y/n with ever fibre of my being, and I decide that I am going to do everything in my power to fix this so we can be that family we had always planned to be. "Of course, I want to be in her life. But I'm going to fight for you too. I was stupid 5 years ago. Give me a chance and I'll show you how much I still love you." Y/n shook her head at my words.

"I don't know Nat." She started. I quickly made my way in front of her. I was on my knees holding her hands in my mine, tears falling down my face. "You are the love of my life. I should have put you first instead of my own desire for redemption. I know what I did was terrible and I can't take it back. But I'll show to you that I can be the best Mom and, eventually, partner that you deserve. Please, just let me fight for you." I plead gripping her hands tightly.

I notice that Y/n is crying but she quickly pulls her hand away to wipe the tears. She doesn't answer me but instead asks a question I've been dying for. "Do you want to meet your daughter?" The biggest smile came across my face. "Yes, please, I would love to." Y/n called out to Maria to bring Mia down. I stood up and wiped my face and then straightened out my clothes. Y/n met them at the bottom of the stairs picked Mia up.

My heart was pounding in my chest as Y/n got closer. She placed Mia on the floor and knelt down to her height. "Mia, do you remember when I told you about your other Mom?" She asked. Mia nodded and rubbed at her tired eyes. "Yes Mama. You said she was saving the world." I smiled, at the thought that Y/n had talked about me, making my heart grow. "Well, she's finally come home, and she would like to meet you now. Is that ok?" Again, Mia nodded and Y/n turned her to face me.

"Natasha, this is your daughter Mia." I walked over, trying to fight the tears threatening to fall. "Hi Sweetheart. I'm your Mommy." I said in a whisper. Mia reached out and put her cute little hand on my cheek. Finally getting a good look at her, I can see how much she looks like Y/n. She is beautiful, just like her Mama. But her eyes, it's like looking into my own. "Hi, my name is Mia and I'm 4." She said in a cute little voice.

I laugh at her introduction as does Y/n. "Well, aren't you a big girl. I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier." I said starting to cry. Mia leaned forward and wiped away my tears which only made them fall harder. "Don't cry Mommy." "Can I give you a hug?" I asked, also giving Y/n a quick glance for her approval. Mia held her arms open, and I picked her up and held her closer to me.

This was the best feeling in the world. Holding my daughter for the first time. "I love you dorogoy. I promise I'm going to be here for you for the rest of your life." I give her a squeeze and then pull away slightly so I can look at her again. I can't believe I have a daughter.

I spend the next couple of weeks in LA. I stayed at a hotel, so I didn't overwhelm Mia or overcrowd Y/n. I saw them both everyday and I loved every minute of it. Y/n was incredible, and it only made me want to fix things even more. I knew these next few months would be difficult. I couldn't just leave the Avengers as I had a contract, so I was heading back to New York.

It was my last night in LA and I was sat at Y/n's cleaning up after she had cooked us and amazing meal. I really missed her cooking. Whilst I was washing up Y/n lent up against the counter. "I've been thinking about the future." Y/n said, causing a bit of anxiety to creep in. "Ok." I reply, drying my hands on the towel giving her my full attention.

"Mia has loved seeing you every day the past couple of weeks. But not knowing when she'll see you again is difficult. I think she is worried she won't see you again." Y/n started. I went to interrupt but she held out her hand. "No, let me finish. You've already missed out on so much of her life, it's not fair that you miss out on more. So I wanted to know what you would think if we moved back to New York so you could still see Mia around your work schedule?" Y/n asked, her eyes dropping to her hands.

The biggest grin was on my face. I couldn't believe that she was willing to do that. "I would love that. It would be amazing to have you both near me all the time. But I don't want you to uproot your life for me." I said, understanding that she has created a life for herself here in. "LA has never been home for me Natasha. I ran because I couldn't bare to see you everyday with work. Then the little booger came along and my life remained here. You deserve to have her in your life as much as me. Besides, I may have already spoken to Bruce who offer me a job in his lab...."

I couldn't contain my excitement when she said that. I couldn't control my actions and I rushed to Y/n picking her up and twirling her around. As I placed her on the floor I leaned in a placed a gentle kiss on her lips. I quickly came to my senses and pulled away. "I'm so sorry. I-I shouldn't have done that." I stuttered. Y/n is just stood there slightly shellshocked. "No, you're ok. That was, uh, that was nice. Just unexpected"

We both giggle whilst still stood close to each other. "I meant what I said a few weeks ago. I want us to be a family. You have been doing this on your own when I should have been by your side. I can't change the past but I can affect the future. You both deserve it. I know it's going to take time, but I love you Y/n. I want us to have the house we always talked about and maybe a brother or sister for Mia in the future. I don't expect you to say yes now, but I hope that you can see how serious I am and that I'm all in for this to work." I run off a mini speech, wanting to express all of the feelings that I have.

I notice that Y/n eyes have gone glossy. "I wanted to hate you when you left me. But when I held Mia in my arms the first time, all I wanted was you beside me. When I failed to get in contact with you again, I closed myself off, believing that it was always going to just be me and Mia. I want to be mad and angry at you, but then I see you with Mia and it reminds me of when we used to stay up late talking about the family we wanted. You're right, I can't jump right back in, but I want us to get back to where we were. Mia deserves to live in a happy and loving home." Y/n's words warm my heart knowing that I still have a chance to have my family.

I step closer to Y/n and take her hand in mine. "We go at your pace. When you get to New York, we'll work out a routine that's best for Mia and go from there ok?" She nods and I can't help but to lean forward and capture her lips again. This time, she kisses back. My hands raise up to her neck, my thumb gently caressing her jawline whilst hers rest on my waist.

Our kiss is short lived though when we hear little footsteps running down the stairs. "Mama, Mommy, can you read me a story pwease?!" Mia shouts as she reaches the bottom of the stairs. Y/n and I quickly pull away and let out a chuckle. "Of course Princess, we'll be right there." Y/n replies, whilst we don't break eye contact. I am going to marry this woman.

Y/n and Mia moved back to New York and I shared my time between the compound and Y/n's. As well as spending time with Mia to make up for lost time, I also started to take Y/n out on dates again. I wanted to do things right and decided to start from scratch. When the Avengers found out about Mia they were all excited to become Aunties and Uncles. Wanda was particularly amazing as she would happily watch Mia whilst I worked to win Y/n back.

After 6 months Y/n and I were officially back together and I moved out of the compound to live with her and Mia. A year later I proposed, and we married in a small ceremony with our family and friends 2 months after and then we found the perfect house down by the lake outside the city but still close enough for us to work.

Now I'm sat on the porch watching Mia run around after Wanda, who was a frequent visitor. "Here you go love." Y/n said whilst handing me a beer. I quickly jumped out of my seat, "Here let me help you. You should be resting" I said as I guided Y/n to the space next to me on love seat. "You don't need to fuss Nat. I'm pregnant not crippled." She joked as she huffed taking he weight of her feet.

I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to me, resting my hand on her bump. "Thank you for giving me everything I ever could have asked for." I whisper in to her hair as I place a small kiss. Y/n turned to look at me, her eyes full of love. "Thank you for coming back to us." She said in response. In this moment I was complete.

#natasha romanoff #natasha #romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #avengers #avengers fan fiction

[wasjustred]

ahhh iloveyourworkssomuch!! 💖 i'd like to request something along the lines of sugar mommy!larissa (maybe with smut, who knows *wink*) 'cause she's all i can think about these days... anyways, happy early new years!!!

Easy Does It - NSFW Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: Larissa spoils you beyond comprehension. Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x f!Reader Warnings: Smut. A lot of it. (Cunnilingus, fingering, strap-on — all Reader receiving) Word Count: ~4.7k

Author’s Note: I hope this meets your expectations, anon! I originally intended to make Larissa way more domineering, but once I began writing it just didn’t feel like her——I tried to stay true to her character where I could. As always, feedback is welcome ﹠. appreciated! ♡ (un-beta-ed as per usual!) ╱ AO3

The arrangement you and Larissa have has been smoothly gliding along for about six months now: you meet for dinner every weekend, in a town about half an hour outside of Jericho. You wear an outfit she’s picked out for you, she pulls your seat out, you share conversation and good - expensive - food and drinks, and you end on the stoop of your apartment, leaning into the kiss she places on your cheek, with a weekly allowance in cash in your purse. It’s the perfect set-up, nothing you’d dare protest, but sometimes you honest to god wish she’d just break her own rules and rail you ‘till the bed breaks.

Tonight you meet her at The Aviary, draped in a black satin dress with a deep slit up the leg––one of her favorites. Larissa helps you into your seat as she usually does, but before she takes her own, she places a long velvet box on your empty appetizer plate.

“Ooh, what’s this?”

“Open it and see.” A small, proud smirk turns her lips, eyes sparkling. You run your fingers over the velvet and lift at the seam, features going slack with surprise when you realize what’s hidden inside: a collar necklace, glittering diamond-cut, softening into a single falling arc of gems which ebbs, finally, into a small, shining teardrop. Light from the restaurant’s fixtures seem drawn to it, gleaming to and fro in a scattered stream of reflection. Your gaze snaps back to hers almost immediately, heart pounding.

“Larissa, I–”

“Do you like it?”

“I– Of course I do, it’s– it’s so beautiful..” Your voice softens and tapers off as you return your attention to the box before you. It’s probably the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given to you, but you stop short of admitting this. “Help me put it on?” 

Larissa’s smile grows as she gathers the box in her hands, lifting the necklace from its cushion. She moves to stand behind you and tenderly brushes your hair aside; her hands are as soft as anything, so gentle in the way they handle you, securing the piece around your neck. Your own hand raises to rest atop the new weight at your clavicle, and when she sets her palms along your shoulders and squeezes, you shift your hand up to capture hers.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Do I need one?” Larissa presses her lips to your cheek from behind before she retakes her seat, arching a brow in challenge. The answer is no, of course; this is how you work, special occasion or not. She always manages to keep you on your toes, though, far more thoughtful and intimate than any other ‘financeur’ you’ve ever humored in the past: Tennis bracelets set with gemstones which perfectly match your eyes, a new coffee bar set-up when you mentioned off-hand that Starbucks had discontinued your favorite drink, a signed first edition copy of your favorite book she ‘just so happened to come across’ while out of state. Much more than the simple, routine bank deposits and luxury brand pieces that were never quite you which you received from others. Larissa’s gifts have always been astoundingly personal.

You’ve never told her this, but you stopped dating altogether once your little dynamic began. How could anyone else compare? She makes you feel important without ever having to work for it ––– like you’re lovable, worthy, because you exist, and nothing more. You’re breaking  your own rules, being so enamored with her, but you refuse to dwell on it.

“No, you don’t…” You trail off as your food arrives, ducking your head in thanks as the waiter sets everything out before you. Any discussion of her gift to you ends there on Larissa’s own accord, swiftly and advantageously moving on to a new topic as soon as the waiter has left you. The rest of the night is spent sipping expensive wine and musing instead on all of the high-culture goings-on you never get to discuss with anyone else: Art, ballet, classical music. Larissa’s a delicious trove of knowledge and opinions and she impresses you with each turn of a new topic. You often find yourself wondering - not just tonight, but many nights whilst basking in her presence - why she’s chosen you. You can hold good conversation, of course, and have an appreciation for the finer things in life usually reserved for those older and/or wealthier than you, but what’s always been curious, what’s always given you pause, is that she never asks for anything else in return. You have no choice but to ask yourself what it is you possibly have to offer to a woman like her––but you almost always fall short of a satisfying answer.

She’s talking you both through an analysis of the most recent play she brought you to when you take one of her hands in your own, tracing the lines of her palm as you listen. Larissa stumbles over her words at first contact, a rare occurrence for her, and blushes pink at the sensation. When you glance up at her in question she quickly averts her gaze and carries on, moving to smooth her thumb over yours as you continue. You love her fingers: they’re long, delicate, awfully reminiscent of the Greek statues she enjoys waxing poetic about. It’s an instance in which you’re reminded art, very often, echoes us in a continuous cycle of give and take.

You don’t say a word when you notice her face darken another shade as you press a kiss to the inside of her wrist before moving on to dote upon her other hand.

She’s not once explicitly told you, but Larissa’s never expected you to take a physical liking to her. She set the rules she did early on for a reason, knowing she could live with looking and not touching, taking care of you and watching your face turn alight with each gift or special night out without ever ending the evening by your side. No sex necessary, no physical affection expected. But here you are, fawning over her, and she’s never been more conflicted.

To assuage the feeling, she convinces herself it’s the wine that’s made you this way––a good bottle will go a long way, thus your touch must be the product of inebriation, not genuine affection. You’ve both long since finished off your meals when Larissa pays the bill and drives you home as she normally does, to an apartment she partly finances (not fully, at your own insistence that there are some things you should take care of yourself) and walks you to your door, stooping to kiss your cheek. Routine. 

She is right about one thing, however, and that’s the potency of the house wine tonight. Not on your reasoning, but your self-control. You spent the car ride home admiring her profile in the passing streetlamps and traffic lights, studying the way each red light cast itself across her, how the passing headlights of opposing traffic bathed her in a cinematic glow you associated only, appropriately, with Vivien Leigh in A Streetcar Named Desire. Ghostlike, almost. Ethereal. And at that same wine’s behest, you lean further now into her goodnight kiss than you’d normally allow yourself.

It’s as she prepares to leave that you decide - anchored by the weight of the diamonds around your neck - that this is the night you’ll throw caution to the wind, fervently hoping it won’t backfire and end with her rejection and a ruined arrangement that you’d both worked to preserve over the past six months.

“Do you want to join me for a nightcap? I know we don’t usually, but.. I’d like you to. If you’d like to, of course. If you don’t that’s–––”

“Y/N,” she interrupts. You can hardly tell but her heart’s just about burst out of her chest. There’s an inner battle waging right on the precipice of her ribcage and your bright, hopeful eyes staring up at her aren’t making it any easier to parse out. Do you feel obligated somehow to pay her back for the necklace? She knows you know she’d never ask that of you, that your arrangement is not a traditional one, but has she unknowingly pushed the bounds all the same? Did you simply imbibe too much and don’t really have a clue what it is you’re saying?

Or, perhaps.. Most dangerously: Do you mean it?

“I don’t want you to feel as though you have to… ‘pay me back’ for tonight. That was never my intention.”

She volleys her own inner turmoil dead straight in your direction and stares down at you with what might be, if you squint hard enough, a nervous expression.

You lean sideways against the door and cross your arms over yourself, appraising her. Does she really not want you? What the hell does she get out of this if she doesn’t? You just can’t wrap your head around it, and while you insisted to yourself you’d never outwardly question the bounds of your relationship and why they’ve settled where they are, you’ve put yourself at a crossroads.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

She balks.

“What? Of course I do. What does that have to do with anything?” Larissa’s expression is a mixture of incredulity and apprehension. You decide to bite the bullet then as she lingers uncertainly beneath the moonlight.

“I don’t understand what you get out of this. Am I not–– you think I’m pretty but you don’t want to touch me? You pay for my livelihood but you don’t want anything tangible in return?” You both purse your lips simultaneously and you’d laugh if the situation weren’t so dire all of a sudden. “You confuse me, Larissa.”

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, a small cloud bursting forth as she sighs.

You fucked it, didn’t you? Fucked it right to hell, and now she’s never going to speak to you again.

“You’re an idiot, do you know that?” The air goes still.

…

It’s news to you. 

Larissa suddenly pushes forward and traps you against the front of your door, hands leveled at your waist. “I’ve always wanted you,” she grits out, her arms tensing at your sides. “I just didn’t want you to feel as though you had to. Return the sentiment, that is. You’re too precious for that.” Her voice is low and rough in your ear, strangled. You grab hold of her forearms to keep yourself upright when her tone shoots right through you, breathing heavily. You gradually lift your gaze, poring over every curve of hers as you do, and meet her eyes. They’ve nearly gone black with lust, and a subtle quiver in her lip tells you everything you need to know.

“Kiss me.”

Larissa groans, which is admittedly not the reaction you’d expected, and presses further into you, her nose brushing against your cheek.  You can feel the heat of her grow, ensnaring you in perfect contrast to the cool night air.

“You have to tell me you want it, darling. I need you to say it.” … Oh. A new wave of arousal surges through you as you turn your head ever so slightly, her lips hovering just out of reach. The shared breath between you has become fraught with possibility, with the overwhelming, unspent energy that’s been collecting over the last six months without either of you quite noticing. Of course this is what she needs: confirmation, not that you’re hers but that she’s yours, by choice and choice alone.

“I want you, Larissa. Please,” you whisper, squeezing her arms in an attempt to ground yourself. She says nothing in return, instead immediately closing the distance and engulfing you in a desperate, searing kiss. Your cheeks burn and it’s all you can do not to melt into her fully, sucking in a sharp breath as her tongue slides against your bottom lip. This, this, you realize, is exactly what you’d imagined: Feeling her against you, wrapped up tightly in her arms, being drawn in and freed all at once, struggling to contain the desire you feel pulsing within yourself. It’s like Larissa’s split open your mind and picked through every thought there, coming away with only the most indecent imaginings and putting them to use as her hips pitch forward and her hands grasp achingly at the roundness of your thighs.

“Open the door,” she husks, suddenly ripping herself away and turning you at the waist to face the door. You fumble for your keys as she scores your neck and shoulders with hot, open-mouth kisses, running the tip of her tongue along the muscle that pulls taut there.

“F-fuck.” The chuckle she gives in response to your whimpering, shaking when you can’t fit the key into its slot, only weakens you further. Larissa must know her effect well as she wraps an arm around you to hold you upright, the other grabbing the key from you and swiftly unlocking the door in one go.

“Trust me, I’m trying.”

Laughter follows you both as you take the stairs one at a time, pausing every few to take her tongue in your mouth and run your hands along her front. You bypass the living room once you reach the landing - a feat in itself - and lead Larissa straight to your bedroom, kicking one heel off in the hall and the other at the threshold of your room. 

She stops you just before you reach the bed and holds you steady for a moment: “Hold on, I want to look at you..” You hair is mussed, curls losing their hold in the heat of your entanglement, chest heaving and red. Larissa steps forward to brush her thumb over your lips, searching your face for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

She doesn’t find any.

“Christ, you’re a pretty thing,” she hums. The pad of her thumb pulls at your bottom lip and you acquiesce, tilting your chin up before taking her finger into your mouth, rolling your tongue against its tip, watching her with wide eyes that imply an innocence you don’t possess. A hiss escapes her when your teeth come down around her knuckle and she scowls, gripping your jaw with an intensity that rivets the surrounding atmosphere as she rips her hand away, smashing your lips together once more.

In the next second the backs of your knees are buckling against the edge of the mattress and you squeak; Larissa had slipped a hand over your sternum and shoved, launching you down hard into the bed. Wet heat urges your hips forward as she crawls over you, but her hands swiftly come down to force them back into the mattress, trapping you there.

“Patience, darling.” You scoff as she begins the journey down your body, placing lazy kisses to your lips, cheek, jaw, chest while her fingers deftly work to pull your dress from you. You lift your back so she can snake a hand around and drag the zipper down to its end at the top of your hips, wriggling free and moving to pull at her own dress–––but she grabs your wrists, pinning them above you with a devious smirk. 

“Ah, ah. Let me spoil you,” she murmurs into the crook of your neck, one hand traveling to cup the dampness between your legs. Electricity cracks against your spine at her touch; you’re sweltering and freezing all at once, watching her eyes rake over you with a hunger you’ve never seen on her before. Her fingers draw idle circles around your clit as she works her way down your body, leaving a trail of wetness in her wake where tongue meets flesh, nipping at the precipice of your hip bones, glancing up at you before she licks you through your panties. There’s no helping the whine you turn free when she all but purrs at the taste she gets of you from the soaked fabric.

“Larissa, please,” you huff, lifting your hips up to meet her mouth. She takes three steps then in quick succession: chuckles into the skin of your inner thigh; pulls your panties down and off of you; and presses a series of messy, teasing kisses to your bare sex. Your fingers clutch at the top of your duvet as she finally begins to devour you, breath hitching as her tongue circles your entrance and delves into you. In a moment of white hot desperation, you hook your legs around her, calves flexing against her back as you shudder into her touch. She’s ravenous, consuming you with long, uninterrupted strokes that ride on the flat of her tongue, lapping your slickness up and winding into you all at once. The coil is tight within you already, pulsing with every movement of her mouth. You’re almost worried it’ll be over before it scarcely has had the chance to start, but a quiet, bemused voice in the back of your mind ridicules you: Larissa is nothing if not generous.

“You taste divine,” she breathes, before returning her ministrations to your clit, sucking and popping with the filthiest fucking moan you’ve ever heard. The feeling of her tongue against that tight bundle of nerves prompts your eyes to roll back, eyelids fluttering, and imbues your hands with a mind of their own, working them swiftly into her hair and pulling her as close to your cunt as you can get her, hips lurching in an unsteady rhythm. You can feel her amusement at your desperation as distinctly as you feel her mouth, but it’s quickly forgotten when she slides two fingers into you with an ease that makes you lightheaded. The sound of your wetness is sinful, and you have to admit it only spurs you on.

“Fuck me, fuck me, pleasefuckme––” Larissa’s grinning against you as she pumps her fingers, curling into you with a startling accuracy that leaves you breathless and aching. You press your cheek to your shoulder in a feeble attempt to keep yourself above the threshold dividing pleasure and bliss, useless as she slips another finger into you and flicks her tongue against you, quickening her pace as she follows the mounting tone of your pleas. Every touch spreads a warmth through you impossible to ignore, stirring a frantic need beneath the surface of your skin.

“Cum for me, darling, cum for me, that’s right.” Larissa presses the heel of her hand into the space just below the swell of your stomach and the coil snaps suddenly, sharply, sucking all of the air out of you at the same time that you yelp and tense with equal force, clamping around her face as your orgasm tears through you. She continues to lap at you even as your hands push at her, holding fast to your thighs to keep her place. Your legs shake as she builds you up in the same breath that you’re coming down, a second orgasm already rearing its head.

“I can’t,” you keen, but Larissa shakes her head and unlatches briefly to disagree.

“Yes you can, Y/N––be a good girl for me.” It washes over you when she lowers her face again and wraps her lips around your clit, sucking with an unfazed firmness that shocks you to your center. You’re tingling over every limb, pacing your breaths to ride you through this second crest. “That’s it..” Larissa coos, running her hand over your leg comfortingly. You can hardly breathe as the shockwaves roll through you one after the other, and the darkness of the ceiling above you seems to double in size as you stare in a daze.

Your muscles melt into the mattress one by one, sinking deep as Larissa finally pulls her head away and crawls forward to kiss you; you can taste your slickness on her tongue, familiar and tangy. When you part, gasping for air, you wrap a hand around the back of her neck and press your foreheads together, gazing up into her eyes with the softest look you can muster after so thoroughly falling apart in her hands.

“My turn?” She laughs loud and heartily at your doe-eyed demeanor. You’re itching to touch her, to taste her, and she knows it.

“Mmm, maybe.” Larissa shrugs and rises up from her position over you, sliding off to the side of the bed where you can’t reach her––and not for lack of trying. A whine catches in your throat when she shoots a withering look over her shoulder, patting the space beside her. “Help me with my dress, darling.”

You waste no time in flipping over onto your knees, shuffling over to her and grappling with the zipper of her dress. You flush when she laughs both at your inability to get it down in one swift motion and the frustrated little growl that bubbles up from your chest.

“Not funny,” you complain, gritting your teeth as she shifts and the zipper gives, revealing the smooth, snowy expanse of her back. Instilled with a renewed sense of hunger, you push the fabric away from both of her shoulders and continue the journey down and around to her breasts, thrilled she’s forgone a bra tonight as you palm the supple flesh there and roll her nipples between your fingers. The sigh she expels is a ragged one, her hands dwarfing yours whilst her head falls back against your shoulder. You revel in the sight of her lip caught between her teeth.

“I want to fuck you.” You just barely catch it in between her labored breaths and your own thunderous heartbeat, but you do, and you turn to glance at her curiously before her meaning hits you square in the face.

“But––”

She cuts you off. “I want to destroy you, Y/N. You can taste me later,” Larissa mutters, pivoting without another warning and capturing your lips again. You wouldn’t complain if it weren’t for the utter distress you felt to get your hands on her. She doesn’t give you a chance to rebut, however, as she slips out of her dress and climbs over you, guiding your hands to grip her ass. “Later, I promise.” She pulls back to appraise you, taking a rigorous inventory that she’ll commit to memory if it’s the last thing she does: Your flushed skin, the way you can’t keep still under her touch, the unmistakable shine of desire in your eyes.

“In th-the nightstand,” you stammer. Suddenly the realization that Larissa is here, in your bed, and you, at her mercy, is too much at once. You’re trembling with need and anticipation. She tilts her head at you, one second, two passing before she follows your guidance and pulls the drawer open, grinning wickedly at what she finds there.

“Harness?”

You nod vigorously, propping yourself up on your elbows and directing her through another drawer of your dresser. The slow, methodical way in which she fastens the leather around herself surely burns itself into your brain, and you can’t help the shameless moan that seeps out when she smooths an indulgent layer of lubricant along the silicone from base to tip, a delicious sight between her legs.

Larissa approaches with an emphasized swing to her hips, bending at the waist to press a chaste kiss to your lips before she nudges you to scoot back into the middle of the bed, positioning herself above you with a hand on either side of your head. She dips her face down into the hollow of your throat. 

Her voice vibrates against you despite her hushed tone. “Are you ready for me, darling?”

Your brain short-circuits at her words, imperfect timing. God, she’s fucking hot.

She lifts her head again to catch your gaze and smirks, nibbling on the tip of your chin. “Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, I’m ready,” you rasp, drawing your nails down the broad expanse of her back in anticipation.

The moment she slides into you is pure ecstasy: your toes curl and you haphazardly clamber for purchase upon her skin as she buries herself deep within you, stalling for a few moments to give you time to adjust. The way Larissa groans into the motion draws out an amusing - filthy - rumination about her being able to feel every stroke as with her own body, delighting in your wetness. She fills you seamlessly, snapping her hips against you before slowly drawing herself back, only to repeat the pattern and plunge into you as deeply as she’s able. It’s bruising and pleasurable all at once, how she brushes up against your walls and the ridges of the toy hit what your mind insists is every nerve-ending within you.

You rock together desperately, bodies moving as one as if you’d been doing this for centuries, mapping each other out and bringing each other to your peak. You savor the novel, tangled scent of sweat and arousal, a newly formed association with the sound of Larissa’s broken whimpers now frozen in your psyche.

A startled breath leaves you as Larissa abruptly anchors her weight to one side and pulls you on top of her, flipping your positions. Her arms wrap tight around you, looped at your back and around your shoulder as she fucks up into you at a crushing pace. You whine into the crook of her neck and realize you’re on the verge of tears, an overwhelming wave of pleasure and desperation wracking your body. Quiet grunts accompany her each thrust, slowing just so until it’s a steady pattern you can count to like clockwork, brutal and sharp at every buck of her hips. Your knees are aching, folded as they are, but the tight, coiling sensation within you overrides any and all discomfort, merely a quiet nagging in your brain; your focus is settled precisely on the angle of her cock and how her nails dig into your skin as you grind against each other. She’s close, too. You can feel it. It’s there in the shallowness of her breaths, in the urgency of her pelvis against yours, in the subtle arch of her back. You try to meet her where she’s at in your muddled state, pitching your hips backwards and down when she thrusts upwards––and you know it’s worked when she gasps and her hands scramble to lock together at the small of your back.

“Yes, that’s it darling. Just like that,” Larissa pants, using the leverage of her hold on you to help you fuck yourself. The only sounds permeating the room are that of your mingled breaths and her cock driving into you with a consistent, almost unforgiving rhythm. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, ohfuck––” 

“Y/N–––”

She tenses with you and cries out as your orgasms hit you both at once, ravaging you beyond reason. You’re hyper-aware of the way her breasts feel pressed against you, the way one of her hands flies up to bury itself in your hair as you ride her through your climax. Larissa’s hips stutter as she whines into your shoulder, sinking her teeth into you, and you marvel at the feeling of her muscles clenching around you, from the sinewy stretch of her arms to her thighs rested between your own.

Everything you’d hoped for. Fantasized about. Greedily deliberated again and again whilst watching her across the table in another fancy restaurant in another unfamiliar town.

Larissa is careful as she pulls out of you, slow and deliberate so as not to disturb the tenderness there. You remain curled on top of her but she doesn’t complain, rather rubbing your back in long, languid movements and whispering affirmations in you ear, a sweet mixture of ‘breathe darling, I’ve got you’ and more headily, ‘you did so well for me, you’re so good, you took me so well’. When you allow yourself to fall to the side of her, she shimmies out of the harness and tosses it somewhere off the edge of the bed, ignoring its clatter as she wraps you up in her arms. You burrow yourself further into her warmth and sigh at the feeling, content.

“Now is it my turn?” you ask, voice low and raked over with exhaustion. The belly laugh she gives is worth all the weariness in the world. “You’re incorrigible!”

#i also tried not to dive too deep into any specific kinks since there was no request for any #i think what i’m gonna do is add to my masterlist what kinks i will and won’t write and go from there! #that way ppl can request as they please :) #if anyone has any constructive/technique-specific comments on the smut pls send them my way!! #i have a tendency to be super explanatory/forward in a way that i don’t think always works for smth so intimate #so i’d love any help i can get! #ANYWAYSSSSS enjoy #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x f!reader #principal weems x reader #larissa weems imagine #larissa weems x female reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x you #principal weems imagine #larissa weems reader insert #larissa weems smut #answered (request) #wasjustred

[luveline]

OK THE STEVE ZOMBIE AU BUT HE DOES FINALLY MIRACULOUSLY FIND ROBIN OR MAYBE DUSTIN OR LITERALLY ANYONE FAMILIAR. Our girl is happy but also like 👀 u finna ditch me now?

theres literally no zombies in this lmao </3 apocalypse au with new (but not really) boyfriend steve wherein you reunite with some old friends and find a community (and worry steve is gonna break up w u) fem!reader 7k words

The border between Indiana and Michigan is quiet. Nothing denotes its location besides a Welcome to Indiana sign. 

Steve's hand tightens around yours. You stand there for minutes, wind breezing past your tired bodies and ruffling his limp hair. 

"Do you think this is our last time seeing Indiana?" you ask quietly. 

There's no need to shout. The town surrounding the border is abandoned. 

He drops your hand. You miss his touch and the soothing effect it gives to hold it immediately. 

"Maybe," he says. "Does that bother you?" 

It fucking scares you. Staying there wasn't really an option anymore, not with the infestation of geeks dribbling away from Indianapolis or the lack of food. And besides that, you'd wanted to get to Michigan badly. Steve and his friend Robin had been planning to come here together before their untimely separation. Half of Hawkins had been aiming for Michigan after the news broke all those months ago — Illinois, Ohio, and Kentucky overrun by flesh-eating monsters. 

But if you leave Indiana, you're admitting it's a lost cause. That the lives you led there are gone, candles snuffed out by a sudden ripping gale. 

"I just…" You look over your shoulder at Michigan. "Can't believe we're here." 

"I think I'm glad we're here." 

You cock your head toward him. 

"Not just to find Robin," he clarifies. "But, no offence? Indiana was kicking your ass." 

You grimace at his implication. Indiana was kicking your ass. You've rolled your ankle more times than you can count. You'd fallen ten feet through the floor and given yourself a major concussion. You've been snarled at, robbed at knifepoint, and almost eaten. 

"Fucking Indiana," you say. 

"Fuck Indiana." He turns on his heel, but not before he's wrapped a hand around your arm to drag you with him. "Michigan better be nice to my girl, or we're going to Canada." 

You've already let him walk you a couple of feet when you have the bearings to splutter, "Your girl?" 

He ignores you, the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips. You’re pretty confident in being his girlfriend, but something about being ‘his girl’ makes your head rush.

You'd found a gun a little ways back but no ammunition for it. It's a good prop regardless, so Steve keeps it in hand stuffed into the pocket of his windbreaker ready to scare off anyone with enough wits to find guns scary. You're sitting ducks otherwise, armed with one small penknife and the metal baseball bat that Steve keeps in the strap of his rucksack, so you stick to the side roads. Being out in the open is risky. You're used to this mode of living, adept at slinking and skulking in dimly dark places. 

"Steve?" you ask, a murmur in the ringing quiet. Cicadas chirp in the trees, leaves rustling with each burst of wind. 

"Yeah?" he asks shortly, distracted by the door in front of him. 

He's attempting to pick the lock of a convenience store's sidedoor. You're standing guard.

"Where do you think Robin is?" 

He doesn't answer for a while. He works a delicate job, the slim pick in his hand creaking formidably with every wrong move. He's too forceful, and you're the better locksmith, but your wrist still twinges from your fall in the woods a few days ago. Steve's too protective for his own good. 

"I don't know. But she's smart, and-" He hisses, hair falling into his eyes. "I'm hoping she's still here." 

"If I were her, I'd wait for you." 

He tips his head back to meet your eyes. "If you ever stay somewhere dangerous waiting for me, I'll fist fight you." 

Usually you'd burst into laughter at his familiar abrupt absurdity — you've grown to adore his jokes now that you know there's no real malice behind them — but you want him to hear what you're saying. You want to know if he'd do the same. 

"I would," you say softly. 

The lock clicks open. 

Steve grins at you. "You won't need to. You're stuck with me like glue." 

Inside of the store is a sorry sight. While the shutters had been down, a good sign, the interior is much less promising. Sunshine filters in through the smallest cracks, casting a scarce light over what's left of the aisles. Two are crushed to one side as if a huge hand has swept them away. Smashed booze bottles litter the floor. Glass like snow crunches underfoot, and a sticky sour smell is heavy in the air. 

You ease into the room on pins. 

"There's gotta be something," Steve says, pulling his pocket-sized torch out to give you a better view. 

Where the shelves have collapsed, there's a small tunnel to the front of the room. You bend down to assess it. 

"I think there's cookies over there." 

"Where?" Steve demands. You point to aforementioned treats.

He army crawls through the gap and pops out on the other side. Those few seconds where you can't see him are unsettling, and from the speed with which he looks at you, he may have felt the same. 

"Keep an eye out," he says. 

You turn to the door. You've closed it tight but it won't lock without a key, and anyone might assume what you have and come inside. 

Steve hisses an excited, "Yes!" 

"How'm I s'posed to keep watch when you're doing that?" 

"Babe, there's fucking Chips Ahoy." He loves them.

"I'm sick of Chips Ahoy," you mumble to yourself. "I miss carrots. And potatoes. I miss pasta. Pasta." 

"Should I be jealous?" 

"Definitely. I'd trade you for a full, home-cooked meal any day, handsome. Fresh made pasta, sun dried tomatoes. Garlic bread." You could cry thinking about it, all those rich flavours together. 

"Call me crazy, but I think we could make you some pasta. Look-" He holds up a small jar. "Crushed garlic." 

You brighten. "Where'd you find that?" 

Garlic is a great flavour to make literally anything taste better, like all the canned stuff people don't always take: artichoke hearts, asparagus, aubergine. 

"Holy shit, score.” Steve holds another tin up, torch held between his chest and his upper arm. 

Your eyes turn round as saucers. 

That night, you decide to stay in the convenience store. You'll be cornered if somebody tries to get in, but you'll be safe from geeks and the elements. Two out of three isn't bad. 

You and Steve share the only fork, chowing down on his amazing find of tinned vegetable soup and dumplings. It barely registers in your head that it's cold, it's so nice to be eating something that isn't spaghettios. You could've built a fire outside to warm it if you weren't scared of being spotted by scroungers. Or worse, cannibals. 

"Maybe we should go outside. Look for smoke," you say. Smoke means people.

"Good idea.” He urges you to take what's left of the soup, stands, and kisses the top of your head as he does.

You're pretty sure there's bliss like the light of a star radiating off of your skin, elated at his easy affection. You're almost as happy to get to finish the soup. 

While he's gone, you open your bag and scrounge for what little self-care you have. Toothpaste is abundant in every store no matter how looted, as is soap, but soap needs water, and you're running low. You brush your teeth with toothpaste alone and use a little bit of water on a rag to wipe the oil off of your face, guilty and thankful at once. If you don't wash yourself when you can, you'll go crazy. 

You apply another layer of roll on old spice and hope it'll hold out until you can find another lake, river, or tributary, which shouldn't be impossible. Michigan is surrounded by water, a fact that had put you off coming here at first. 

You go where Steve goes, though, so Michigan it had been, and Michigan it is. 

Your first night’s already proved fruitful. There's more than enough food here if you're willing to get weird (and you and Steve usually are). More food than you could carry. 

Which is a little suspicious, now that you think about it. 

Nobody thought to look here? 

Is there anybody to look? 

You push all your stuff aside and scramble onto your knees, suddenly paranoid. Steve's taking too long, what if this place is a trap? A honeytrap to lure in mindless ants. What if they've already grabbed him, and– 

"Oh, Jesus," Steve says as he opens the door, voice uber loud in the night time stillness. "You scared me. What's the matter, need to pee?" 

"I thought somebody kidnapped you," you say, trying for joking and missing by a mile. 

Steve leans against the door. He's regained his controlled volume and demeanour, "Safe and sound. I'm serious, do you need to pee?" 

You and Steve pad out your corner of the store against the pilfered chip aisle. He lets you use his chest as a pillow, and when he turns off the torch there's nothing to do but listen to his breathing and feel his chest move under your ear. 

You rub his sternum with the heel of your hand. "You could use me as a pillow sometime. If you wanted to." 

"Yeah? You're softer than me, I think I'd love that." 

You draw a short line to his navel, thinking. Lucky to have found him. Lucky to like him this much, and lucky that he likes you. You're 'his girl', and you get to sleep on his chest and sometimes when he's not worrying himself to the bone he'll tell you secrets. You know him better than you’ve ever known anybody.

He curls his arm around your shoulder and takes your upper arm into his hand, the heat from his fingers seeping into your skin. You've taken off your coat because it's uncomfortable. Steve will fold it over your chest when you fall asleep. 

"It was a good day, right?" He sounds terrified of jinxing it. 

You kiss his chest, or his t-shirt, so lightly he likely doesn't feel it. A kiss for your sake rather than his. "It was a good day." 

He holds you close. His heart thrums in your head. 

"Floor's like a fucking ice cube," he mutters. 

You cover as much of him as you can with your arms, sleep tugging at your eyelids. "I'll keep you warm," you promise as they close. "Wake me up when you get too tired." 

"Alright." He massages your arm in his hand gently, and you fall asleep. 

—

Steve flinches awake at the whisper of a sound outside. A younger Steve, one who'd known nothing about geeks, or people, really, how awful they can be, wouldn't have woken. Hell, Steve could've slept through a hurricane when he was in high school, all those years where he'd stayed up too late playing hooky and smoking Malboro's behind the Big Buy. He looks back now and wonders how much sleep he missed out on in his king-sized mattress, up to his eyeballs in cushy sheets and fresh linens. Why had sleeping felt like such a chore? 

And after that, when he and Robin would stay up watching shitty movies and eating the free stale popcorn from the video store. Though he wouldn't trade any of that away. 

Fucking idiot, he thinks to himself scathingly. He was not supposed to fall asleep. He checks you over quickly. In your sleep you've slid off of his chest and onto the tarp next to him, but you’re unharmed.

He sits up and scrambles for his penknife. Weak dusk light breaks through the store's shutters, dust motes disturbed by his movements diving between rays of light like lightning bugs. His joints click with the force and speed with which he springs up to protect you. 

What sound was that? It had come as loud as a crack of thunder, but could've been something small, a squirrel over a tree branch. 

He should wake you up. If it's one person, even two, you could help him. But if it's more, and they find you… 

He shoulders open the door and walks out into the morning light. 

— 

You wake to hands on your shoulders. 

You're scared instantly. Steve usually wakes you reluctantly, a shake and a whispered, "Up," or, "Up, baby," if he's especially tired. 

"It's me," he says, his voice burning with something you haven't ever heard before. "It's me. Time to wake up." 

You peel your eyes open, horrified at the sight above you. Steve face hovers over your own with his hair tucked behind his ears and a blazing smile, daylight behind him haloing him in gold. 

"You didn't wake me." You bring clumsy hands to his rough cheeks. "Why didn't you wake me? You look so tired." 

He looks electrified, the bags under his eyes no match for his smile. You can feel it as he leans down, as he plants a kiss firmly to your unsuspecting mouth. He kisses you all over, a joyous chuckle bubbling out between them. 

You laugh yourself, tickled as his stubble scratches your cheeks, your neck as he works his way down. 

"There's- There's people," he says. "My people. Fucking Robin-" 

"What?" 

You're a half inch from headbutting him unconscious. Luckily he's already veering upward, stuffing what you'd left on the ground back into your packs. 

"I haven't seen her yet, but there's this other girl we went to school with, Darcy Mulligan, and she said this is an outpost, right? They keep all this shit here for people who need it, and then they watch to see if you're dangerous-" 

"They were watching us?" 

He plows onward, ignoring you, "And they saw us and I went out thinking they were gonna shoot me but-" 

"Steve, we can't go with these people." 

His smile fades a little. "No, we aren't. I told them already, we aren't that stupid. But," — he grabs your arm — "they said they're gonna bring Robin." 

You don't want to keep fighting him. To shoot down this newfound hope, this lightness you've never seen him shine with before, feels cruel. But you don't want him to get ahead of himself. 

"What if they're bringing back reinforcements?" 

He swallows and nods, reassuring your conjectures. "Right, I thought that too, but- I don't know, baby, Darcy was with a guy, and they both had guns. They could've shot me. 'N' if they were empty, the guy could've just knocked me over the head with it, you know?" He crawls impossibly closer than he'd been, hands rubbing your arm unthinking. "I think this is real." 

I want it to be real goes unsaid. 

You're ashamed that you can't find any excitement to wear with him. Dread licks over your skin as you smile at him, as you cup his cheek in your hand, and as you stand up to help him pack away his things. You feel like you're going to your death. 

Steve can read you well. He grabs your shoulders. You're selfishly hoping he'll say you can run. He doesn't. "You trust me?" he asks. 

You deflate, shoulders falling. "Of course I do." 

"Thank you." He tries to pull you in for a hug but you're reeling, distracted, he has to persuade you, and he does so sweetly. "Hey, c'mere, come on." He pulls at you. "Come here." 

You flop into his chest with all the grace of a shored fish, arms limp. He smells like sweat which probably means you do too, but he smells like himself, and that's what's important. 

"Nothing bad is going to happen to you." 

"What about you?" 

"If Robin's here, I have to take the risk. She's my best friend." 

You understand that. You'd never ask him not to do this, because you'd do it for him. If you'd ever gotten separated, you'd spend months looking for him. Years, maybe. He's the only person left. 

You have no clue if he'd do the same for you.

He scrubs at your back roughly. Such a boyish kind of hug. 

"You have your knife?" he asks. 

You have it. Rather than let them corner you in here, you both make your way out into the woods. Steve shows you the short path he'd taken to find Darcy Mulligan and the man she'd been with, evidence of their stakeout left in the embers of a small fire. You stand frozen with a tree trunk to your back and Steve stations himself in front of you, pack secured on your back. Steve has his baseball bat in hand. What good will it serve against a possible group of gunmen? You start to panic, really panic, and you're a hair's width from begging him to run with you when his grip on the bat falters. 

"Fuck," he says softly. 

Three people turn the corner; a dark haired girl with twin pigtails and a rifle hanging at her side; a boy, presumably the man Steve had mentioned; and a shorter girl with light brown hair, her expression — her entire body — lit with happiness, elation, and her laugh loud enough to prove it. 

"Holy shit," Steve says. 

You forget to be scared. You forget to worry. Steve lets the baseball bat drop out of his hand, and then he's taking three weak steps forward to meet her, and that's it, it's her, Robin throws her arms around his neck and nearly barrels him to the ground. His hands come up to meet her. He's shaking so hard you're surprised he can grip her waist, his face crushed to the side of her head. 

Tears well in your eyes. To get to see this, so soon, when you'd thought maybe Steve might never see his best friend ever again, is a blessing. It's a fucking miracle. 

Your tears bite back when the boy moves forward and hugs him too. 

You tighten your grip on your knife and pull it from your pocket, confused and alarmed that Steve's about to get gutted, but Steve starts to shake worse. 

It takes you a second to realise he's crying. 

"Henderson," he says. 

Oh. It's Dustin. You've heard enough stories about him to know it. He has the same curly hair, and while he's taller than you'd thought, Steve had only ever talked about one Henderson. 

Steve's relief is a knot in your throat. You wipe your cheek quickly with the back of your hand and shove the knife into your pocket. 

Over their heads, the dark haired girl narrows her eyes at you. 

"I can't believe you're here," Steve says, voice raspy with emotion. 

You have never heard him cry. 

"Where have you been, Steve?" Robin asks hoarsely. 

You take a step toward him without thinking, and he hears it despite everything and looks up at you with a teary-eyed smile. 

"We got lost," he says, holding your gaze. 

"Lost? It's been months. We thought you were zombie mulch, you shithead." 

"I'm here, aren't I?" He rolls his eyes at you, like he's saying Get a load of this guy? 

It's a reassuring gesture even if he doesn't mean for it to be. You're still a team. 

"Hi," Robin says, her hands clasped in Steve's shirt, but her attention fully yours. "I'm Robin." 

You don't have a chance to introduce yourself. Steve does it for you, and he says, "She's my girl. Saved me this entire time." 

What the fuck does that mean?

Robin looks at you again. "No fucking way." 

"Only took an apocalypse for Steve to get a girlfriend," Dustin says. 

There's something about their playful arguing that makes you want to cry again. It's the relief they've padded it with. You can imagine how brilliant it must feel to make fun of somebody you'd thought long dead. 

"Don't worry, Y/N," Robin says gravely, "there are tons of dudes at camp. You have options." 

Steve steps on her foot. 

"We should head back," Darcy says shortly. 

On the walk, Steve feels very far away. He keeps looking at you to check you're there, but his thoughts are months ago, recounting the details of your survival to his friends in short. You and Steve had been together since basically the very start when you'd saved him from a horde, and he tells that with pride. So much so you feel heat blooming behind your neck and at the tips of your ears. 

"We fucking floored to to the meeting point but you guys weren't there-" 

"Sorry-" 

"No, it's okay," he says. "I get it. It was rough." All of you shiver at the memory. Hawkins had been hit hard, a close knit town with nowhere to hide.

"No we- we should’ve fucking waited- I begged them to wait," Robin says. 

"Who did you get out with?" 

And there's the list of survivors. It's short. The amount of orphaned kids is extremely depressing, and for a while there's silence. All those people. Dustin's mom, Robin's dad. 

"Hopper's here, though," Dustin adds after a while.

"That explains why you're still alive." 

"Actually, dickhead, we're alive because I'm awesome. The radio-" 

"How many people are there?" Steve interrupts. 

"It's a whole new world, Harrington." 

It's better. 

You turn onto what looks like an old college campus and suddenly, there's people. So many people you walk backward and almost tumblr off of the curb, because fuck. There's noise, and smells, and sounds. There are little kids running around in a closed off area of the quad, laughing and chasing after one another. There are guns on guards patrolling makeshift walls. 

Your ears start ringing. 

"Think your girlfriend's gonna pass out," Darcy says. 

You're the last one to figure out she's talking about you. 

"Oh, hey. Hey," Steve says, stepping toward you. 

You take another step back. 

"Baby," he says softly. 

"There's people here." 

"So many new boyfriend's to choose from," he jokes. He's tentative, but he offers his hand like he knows you'll take it. "Come on. I promise I won't get jealous when you run off with somebody cooler." 

"I don't want somebody cooler," you say. 

"Okay, awesome, 'cause I was lying. I'd be super jealous. I'd feed myself to the geeks." 

"Don't say that." 

He grins at you, hand hovering in the gap between your bodies unwavering. Trust me, it says. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. 

You take Steve's hand. 

—

The world is more than you and Steve against it. There are people to answer to. 

Chief Hopper actually recognises you when he sees you. He recognises Steve first, and he gives him a pat on the back. You aren't expecting any hellos, figuring you're barely a memory to him, but Hopper smiles at you like you've just told him you have the antidote for zombification in your rucksack. 

"It's good to see you, kid."

That night, in the dining hall, you get a small welcome between shift announcements. Hundreds of heads turn your way, and while some house cagey unsurety, the majority are happy to see you. 

You sit with Steve and his friends (plural, a growing number, because nearly all of them are here), torn between stopping him from crying his eyes out with happy tears and listening to the older woman sitting beside you. Her name is Mallory, and she offers a generous gift. 

"You have any questions at all, sweetpea, and you can come to me. Or if you just wanna talk, my shoulder's right here." She pats it for emphasis. 

"Thank you so much." But, you want to say, I have Steve.

"Young love, and in a time like this." Mallory's smile is genuine, if a little haunted. "It's amazing." 

You indulge her, turning from Steve just slightly. "But?" 

She brushes a strand of hair behind her ears. It's three colours, a faded red at the middle, a mix of grey and brown at the top. "Listen, I have some unsolicited advice for you hon, but I'm not trying to offend you when you just got here." 

You shake your head. "No," you say hurriedly, "of course not. I wouldn't think that." 

She digs around in her pocket and opens her hand covertly under the table. When you look at it, she hisses. "No, don't. Keep your eyes up." 

You right your gaze accordingly. The canteen is simply that — the college's canteen. Every night there's something cooking, and every morning if they can afford it. Although you'd been told some people eat at home, most people come here, because this is the only place with a reliable generator. From where you're sitting, you can see everybody, and you suspect Steve had chosen this vantage point on purpose. 

Hopper stands at the front of the room behind another man, who's moved from the important stuff and is now lamenting at the book club's low attendance. They have a fucking book club. You can't believe it. 

Mallory drops something into your hand. A hard-boiled candy.

"My advice," she says, the two of you watching as Hopper and the second man confer, "is to try and be in both worlds at once." 

"You've lost me." 

"That's not a good sign, I've barely started," she jokes, laughing so much that the men sitting across from you laugh too. She carries on, "What I mean is, this isn't home. It probably never will be. We fight so hard to make it home, we plant trees, 'n' we sleep warm every night, but…" She squeezes your shoulder amicably, a light, quick touch. "I know how it felt when I got here. Me and my husband, we kept to ourselves. And we were right to, not everybody here can be good. But when he died, I had nobody." 

You let your eyes drop to you plate, a small portion of a soup that's not the best and a sandwich that's marginally better. You get what Mallory's trying to say — don't put your eggs all in one basket, not when the basket might get mauled to death any day coming. 

You get what she's trying to say. You don't appreciate it. 

"Thank you," you say weakly. 

She nods, and Steve saves you from anymore conversation with an arm hooked through yours. 

“You okay?” he asks. Unmistakably fond. 

You can feel the eyes of all of his friends. All these people you knew too, or knew of, and should be happy to see. You should be so fucking happy right now. 

So why aren’t you?

You turn your face to his and take him in. He’s got a red rash of skin over the top of his head from prolonged sunburn and a scar under his left eye from a cruel tree branch. He looks different than the Steve you’d met at school, and he looks different still from the Steve you’d saved on day 1. 

But he’s your Steve. 

You drop your forehead into his neck, love like a warm blanket encapsulating you when he presses a kiss against your forehead. 

“I know,” he says, moving back, forcing you to sit up again. “It’s crazy.”

You return his smile, though you aren’t sure you're on the same page. 

—

Little Hawkins makes you want to curl up into a ball and cry. It’s a floor of rooms in the campus dormitories, and Robin shares with a couple of other people your age. She only has a mattress and her things on the ground in one room, but soon Steve and another guy are dragging another mattress from across campus while you watch. 

"No offence," Steve says, "but I'm trying to spoil you right now. Can you stop pouting? I'm giving you a breather." 

"I don't believe you." 

He and the unnamed man lean the mattress up outside of Robin's door. 

"Well," he says warmly, and you're starting to feel lovesick with how sweet he's being, nearly enough to forget how scared you are, "maybe you should try." 

Steve is nice. He's always been nice, ever since you met him, even if that nice was strapped down and buried under one layer of derision, one layer of sarcasm, and another layer of sternness for prosperity. But this is another level. Ever since he woke you up he's been ridiculous (he's been the kind of affectionate you've secretly ached for). Steve's sparing with affection but you wouldn't ever complain — can you expect him to play doting boyfriend when each day he's hardwired and on the fritz trying to make sure you both don't die agonising, gross deaths? 

This is fucking crazy, though. 

Steve pulls you bodily by the waist into his front and talks into the highest point of your cheek, words muffled by your skin, "When was the last time we slept on a mattress? Gotta be months ago," — you lean into him entirely, he takes your weight with zero qualms — "when we were in that house by the lake with all the soaps." 

"So many soaps," you murmur, melted by his closeness. 

He laughs. He giggles, all boyish and pretty and you can't help yourself, you lift your chin, practically begging for a kiss. 

You get a short one. Steve's too busy laughing. "And the canned pickles. I know they were, like, doomsdayers, but what did we count, like-" 

"Fifty seven-" 

"Fifty seven jars of pickles," he finishes. 

If this is what Steve is like here, you can make the trade. You don't trust anybody that isn't him, and it feels like you're surrounded by people who could easily hurt you, but his easy joy right now is contagious. 

Robin's voice comes loud from inside her room. "Hey, lovebirds! Are you coming in? They turn all the lights off in like, twenty minutes." 

It's obvious how much Steve trusts Robin. You get the mattress in her room through a series of squeezing and hoping, and she shows you her fancy little sink with running water, nothing short of pride in her eyes. 

"It's freezing," she says, "but you can wash up." 

It genuinely doesn't bother you that it's cold, emotionally. Physically you get the jitters, and it's worth it because Steve pities you and wraps you up tight to rub your arms. He and Robin talk a lot, so much that your brain has given up on listening. It's not something you're happy to hear anyhow, your perilous journey. Steve is generous on your account, leaving out all your most embarrassing moments. 

You sit on the end of the mattress and wonder if you can take your shoes off. 

"Robin?" you ask. 

Both turn to look at you, surprised. 

"Yeah?" 

"Does the door lock?"

She brings her legs up to her chest, chin on her knees. "There's no deadbolt, but you need a key to open it from the outside. So kind of?" She watches you for a moment, and then she nods towards the desk covered in books. "I used to put the chair under the handle when I first got here. You can do that, if you're worried." 

You nod uselessly and get up to do just that. 

"Thanks, Robs," Steve says. 

"Yep." She flops into a ball on her side and pulls the blankets up and over her face. "Goodnight, then." 

Steve laughs and steps over your legs so he can get to her. "Robin," he says, pulling the blankets down. "I- I really missed you." 

She holds out her arms and they hug. She pats his back. "Missed being a pain in my neck, maybe," she mutters. He pushes away from her in mock disgusts and they smile, a shared smile that douses you in an unfair jealousy. You shrug it off pretty quickly when he sits down on the mattress beside you, looking content and, shockingly, really tired. 

He encourages you up to the top of the mattress beside him and folds up the blanket from the rucksack for you as a pillow, sliding it under your head. When he seems confident that you're comfortable he blows out the candle burning on Robin's desk. 

This part's easy, you and Steve in the dark. You're practised in the art of moving around one another. 

Your heart pounds in your ears as Steve pulls a heavy blanket over the both of you, his arm strewn across your stomach haphazardly. 

"Are you okay?" he whispers. 

You turn your face to his though you can't see it. "Of course I am. Are you okay?" 

"I know this is weird." 

Weird doesn't feel like the right word. Surreal, maybe. Something out of a dream. 

"I think my back aches more on the mattress, I'm so used to twisting myself into knots between your legs." 

He snorts. "That doesn't sound right." 

You cover his arm with your hand. "Pig." 

"You can lie on my chest, if you want." 

"Think it's your turn to use me as cushioning." Your voice is coloured by your smile. 

He exhales into your shoulder. 

"Mm. This is nice," he murmurs. 

"You want me to take the first shift?" 

"I don't think we need shifts." 

You can't agree. Steve trusts Robin and you trust Steve, but you do not trust Robin. She seems lovely, and through Steve's stories you know she's a good person, but he hasn't seen her in a year. She could be anybody, and she's locked into a room with you.

You don't mean to be deceitful. "Alright," you utter, "no shifts." 

"You smell nice," Steve says. His lips move against your skin, and he lifts his head enough to kiss your jaw, three kisses in succession. "Goodnight, honey." 

You raise your hand to his head. "Goodnight." 

He falls asleep to you carding through his hair. Even when you're sure he's dead to the world you keep going, the feeling of it between your fingers calming. 

You don't sleep a wink. 

—

It becomes a mantra. Steve is happy here. Over and over and over. 

You're happy too by consequence; Steve is a new person, still the man you know but with this emanating happiness rolling off of him in waves. 

Chief Hopper has promised to get you and Steve a place together if you want one. This had scared you half to death, because you want one bad, but you'd been expecting a little resistance from Steve (or, admittedly, a lot). Because… 

You're starting to think maybe you aren't scared of the people here. You trust Hopper to run a community that's safe if he says it is, and as the days stretch into a week, two weeks, you start to feel secure. Steve's never far, but that's the terrifying part. 

You're worried Steve is going to leave you. 

It sounds dramatic. It is dramatic. But you're scared shirtless that Steve is going to wake up and realise he doesn't owe you a thing, that he doesn't harbour the affection for you that he thinks he does. You're worried that Steve had gone soft on you because you'd been there, like a habit. 

Your feelings for him only grow, despite this. He's fucking handsome when he's clean-shaven, clean in general. Somebody's mom gives him a haircut and you can't believe it, because he's always been good looking but you can tell he's more confident like this, and the confidence makes him golden. 

He's also super handsy. 

You love it, and you get it. You know you look prettier clean, even more so after somebody's mom gives you a haircut and you've managed to scrub the perma-dirt from under your nails. The want to kiss him is dialled up by a thousand because you always have clean teeth.  

The nagging fear remains even when he's got a mouthful of your neck. 

"Ouch," you moan, hands in his hair, legs spread enough to accommodate his figure between them, "s'like a geek, nibbling on me." 

Steve bites a little harder. 

You gasp at his show of force and push your head away from him. "Steve," you say with a laugh.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologises, pulling back. Elbows at your ribs, he holds his weight off of you though there's no reason to. "My teeth missed you." 

"What the fuck." 

"All of me missed you." He strokes the side of your face mildly. "I hate this." 

You wiggle under him, mattress springs digging into your back. He doesn't bother explaining what he'd meant, only leans down to kiss your cheek, your chin, the tip of your nose. 

You stare at him. 

"What do you hate?" 

He scrunches his nose up like it's obvious, and you're stupid for not knowing. "Us being on separate schedules. It's fucking shitty." 

You don't have an answer for him. It seems more than lucky that he would assuage your worst feelings considering you haven't told him anything at all. You haven't told him about staying up at night to make sure Robin's not gonna kill him, or how worried you are that he's gonna realise he can leave you now you're safe, now you don't owe each other anything. You haven't told him how much you love him, and how much that would hurt. 

Somehow, you get the impression that he knows anyway. 

"This is really nice," you say eventually. 

He rests his face against yours. You close your eyes. 

"What's nice?" he asks. "Our separation? You're sick, babe. I'm trying to bare my heart here and you're stomping all over it." 

"Not our separation, dummy. This. You lying on top of me. It feels really nice." 

His small laugh warms your cheek. "I know. Why'd you think I let you climb all over me for months?" 

"'Cause otherwise we'd freeze to death?" 

He kisses a line down to the skin under your ear. "That, too. But mostly because it feels good." 

You wrap your arms around him and press your nose to his hair, smelling him for your own self-indulgence. He lets his weight press down on you, shifting his arm so they're digging behind your shoulders. 

You hook a leg behind his. 

"Steve, I…" 

"I love you." 

You stiffen. 

He hugs you that tiny bit tighter. "I love you," he says again. "I should've told you before, but I- I was so afraid that you'd-" He clears his throat quietly. "I was fucking terrified that I was going to let you down. You kept almost dying on me, and I kept realising I wouldn't be able to do this without you." 

"I love you too," you say, shell-shocked. 

He kisses your cheek slowly, softly, and then he lifts himself up so you're face to face. 

"I love you," you say, because he'd said it twice. 

His smile is gentle, eyes creased with a loving amusement. "I know." Steve steals back one of his arms so he can thumb under your eye. "I know you're not sleeping." 

"Steve-" 

"No, listen. I know you don't trust Robin-" 

"I do-" 

"You don't, and it's okay." He cups your cheek. "It's okay. You know, Hopper said it wouldn’t take long to find us a room. A couple more days and you won’t have to worry. And you know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you say, voice softening to match his own. 

He squeezes your cheek. “There’s a lot of stuff I should say to you and I’m kind of trying to hang onto my last shred of dignity here, but I mean it. More than I’ve ever- More than anyone. I love you.”

Your lips fall into a self-pitying pout. You won’t cry, though you feel like you could, because this is possibly the happiest you’ve ever been in your life. Steve loves you more than anyone, plain as day. He wouldn’t say that if he were going to swap you out for a new apocalypse girlfriend anytime soon, ‘cause Steve doesn’t mess with feelings. He’s earnest. 

“Ever since we got here, I’ve been waiting for you to break up with me,” you say. 

Which is funny in itself. You and Steve kissed each other every now and then for weeks before you had the conversation — it feels juvenile to think of boyfriends and girlfriends in life or death, and, paradoxically, it feels really important. The label means a lot to you. The ‘I love you’ means the world, even if he’s been showing it everyday since he met you. 

He makes a sound that’s a combination of a scoff, a snort, and a pitying sigh. “You’re ridiculous,” he says. 

You laugh so loudly it surprises you both. “I’m ridiculous? Get off of me, rich boy.”

Steve hunkers down. “What? No way. I live here now.”

“Seriously, Harrington, get off. I'm sick of you. Robin promised she’d find me a new boyfriend. Maybe I’ll get one with compassion.”

He laughs. He’s trying not to, and it comes out warm and soft to spite him. “Fine, let’s break up.”

“Fine.”

He tilts his head toward yours until your foreheads are touching, staring into your eyes. It takes a lot of willpower to hold in your laugh. “Wanna go on a date with me?”

You lift your chin and kiss him through giggles. “Yeah, okay. Options are pretty limited here, anyway.”

#stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve zombie!au #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington

[ushiwhacka]

LET HIM EAT CAKE | gojo satoru + fem! reader | 982 words | mdni | happy birthday to the only man that matters <3

.⋆｡⋆☾ summary: satoru loves cake. and he also loves you. so why wouldn't he want both at the same time? .⋆｡⋆☾ warnings: food play, slight dacryphilia, overstimulation, pussy eating, spit, gojo keeps your panties

You watch him as he inspects the little cakes and desserts spread out across the length of the dining table. Macaroons, sticks of dango, chocolate truffles, his favourite kikufuku, you had spent hours and hours gathering all of his favourites to indulge him for his birthday. And at the centre of it all, a cute little strawberry cake. Not as perfect as the rest of the selection, but made with so much love and care. Made by you. Made for him and him only. Two airy layers, a fluffy decadent filling, and six juicy strawberries as decoration.

Tongue peeking between pink lips, a feigned serious expression as he thoughtfully considers his options. But he can’t hide the happiness that pours out of his face, eyes crystal and wide and crinkled at the edges. There’s not much you can give a man that already has everything, but this feels like nothing he’s been given before. It feels like love. 

“I want this one first.” A knowing smile as he pulls the cake towards him. “But,” Gojo takes a step closer to you, pressing his body flush against yours, “I want to eat it off of you.”

“Satoru-”

“It’s my birthday, you should be nice to me on my birthday.”

His hands move up your exposed thighs and underneath the short little silk slip-on, thumbs running along the hem of the pretty lace thong that you wore just for him, digging into the fat of your ass and lifting you onto the table. Any resistance dissipating with the feel of his lips on yours. 

A swipe of his fingers across the cake to gather some of the filling before he presses them to your mouth, prying it open. Pushing down against your tongue, going deeper and deeper, until you’re drooling. Hand covered in your spit as he wraps it around your jaw. Then he kisses you, messy and just a little bit aggressive. “Mmmhm strawberry cake is just the best.” It comes out rough and thick with desire. And you’re already a mess yourself. Chest heaving, eyes glassy and lidded. Looking like something out of a dream with reddened, swollen lips and the straps of your dress falling around your shoulders. Satoru already knows that this is his favourite present. Ever. 

He picks out one of the strawberries. The biggest, most succulent one, of course. Shoves the tip between your teeth. An awkward bite that’s just too big, and pink, syrupy juice escapes down the sides of your mouth. But not to worry, because he’s there to help. Tongue flat against your skin as he licks you clean. Two of his favourite things - sweets and his pretty girlfriend and he’s enjoying every moment of it.  

Gojo trails the strawberry down your chin and the column of your neck, across your clavicle, marking his path. And where the sweet fruit goes his lips follow, kissing and licking and nipping at your skin. Humming in appreciation. Every little gasp and moan that leaves your mouth travels straight down to his cock, already straining against his slacks. He stops to pull the dress over your head and audibly moans at the sight of your bare breasts. 

Your spine tingles as he swirls the cold strawberry around your nipple. And he’s so mean as he sucks it into his mouth, cheeks hollowing with the effort. Pretty fingers trace their way down your tummy, touch so soft it almost tickles, and settle over your clothed pussy. “Did you wear these cute panties for me?” 

“Y-yeah.” The sound of your voice unrecognisable and raspy, heady with need. There’s something about the way his tongue curls over your skin, savouring every little taste of your flesh, the hunger that clouds his eyes. All of it wraps around your core, clutching around it, rendering your body limb and pliant. 

Satoru is careful as he slides the delicate cloth down your legs, his gaze overwhelming as he holds yours. “Think I’ll keep these.” A devious little smile on his face as he pockets your expensive underwear. But it’s not like you have the capacity to even care in the moment. And he’ll be sure to buy you another pair. Just as cute. Just as expensive.

Then the strawberry is back in his grasp, dripping with juice as he trails it down to your cunt, the tip slipping between your slit. A pathetic hiss as he slowly runs the fruit over your pussy lips, and then sucks them into his mouth, one after the other, releasing with an audible pop. A moment of respite and then he buries his face in your pussy, pink muscle dragging through your folds. And the way his nose nudges against your clit so deliciously has your hips bucking into his face. There’s not a single part of your body under your control. Not your hands that tug at his roots. Not the lewd moans that etch themselves onto his brain. Not your twitching pussy that’s gushing with slick. 

Half of his face is glistening with your essence. Just how he likes it. Leaking down the sharp slope of his chin as his tongue fucks into your needy hole. “Fuck, f-fuck, baby, it feels that good, yeah?” And there’s nowhere he’d rather be than here, suffocated between your thighs, drowning in the smell of you. Watching you fall apart as you writhe and sob, incoherent little whimpers as he sucks on your clit until you cum. And he keeps sucking on it until you’re begging for him to stop, the palms of your hands pushing at his forehead. 

“Aww already so sensitive?” A mocking coo. “But baby we’re just getting started.”

It’s his birthday. And you’re his favourite toy. And he plans on playing with you for as long as he wants. Until his body gives out and there’s not a single thought left between the pair of you. 

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #it's still the 7th here!!! #tw: food

[thedovesaredying]

Hi I'm hyperfixated over your zombie! Ghost and I've been reading it every hour since it was up, it's the idea of him only acting upon his own primal urges get me going 🤤 i don't know if your zombie! Ghost is a dead person who became zombie or just an infected living human but either way I'm so down!!

I thought about what if reader leaves the muzzle on him all the time and do the usual stuff, pull him by it when they walk about looking for food and medicine, loosen it a bit when he tries to eat whatever is in his zombies menu and of course tugging it backwards as you ride him 🩵

- 🌋

Anon! Your brain!! 

I’m glad I’m not the only one weak for our Zombie lad. I actually have a bunch more I want to write about him, so feel free to request more for him at any point uwu 

A little snippet for you below the cut <3 

Words: 780

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Teratophilia, PnV, Unprotected Sex, Muzzles.

Reminder, this is an 18+ account!

Ghost has been in quite a huff with you recently or, at least, you think he is. It’s a little difficult to tell given his difficulty stringing full sentences together after the infection ravaged his brain. He’s still cognisant and able to get his thoughts across to you (even if most of those thoughts involve being hungry or wanting to fulfil certain urges).  

However, his attention span isn’t the greatest and he’s constantly getting distracted by things in your surroundings. Wandering off like a toddler at every new sound, checking to see if there’s food or a potential threat hiding around every corner. No matter how many times you ask him to try and focus, he’ll inevitably end up finding trouble.  

The other zombies aren’t much of a problem since he can chase them off with a few well-placed swipes and growls to remind them of their place. It’s the other survivors you’re worried about. It’s a lawless land out here and anyone that’s survived this long knows to shoot first and ask questions later. This doesn’t bode well for your zombified partner. He’s an enemy and when he has his sights on a potential meal there’s little you can do to deter him from attacking.  

Hence, it’s easier to simply keep him at your side. The muzzle works wonders for when you need to gently steer him away from distractions, even if he occasionally gets a little grumpy at having to be pulled around by his face. He can’t nose his face up against you properly when it’s in place which often makes him grumble and sigh a tad overdramatically.  

You take it off when you go to sleep, after all, it wouldn't do you any good to have your guard dog unable to use his best weapons. Ghost doesn’t require sleep anymore, so he makes an excellent protector for when you’re in your most vulnerable state.  

He stays with you all throughout the night, his body pressed up against your back and his arms caging you to his chest. His lips are dry and completely missing in some parts, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to lave every inch of you with kisses. A soft rumbling sound always accompanies his affections, almost a purr.  

But the uses of a muzzle don’t stop at simply helping to direct your companion whenever he starts to drift away. It’s particularly useful for manipulating his face to exactly where you want it, be it away from something he wants or toward the places you require his attention.  

Riding him is only more intense when you’re able to grip at the thick leather straps keeping his muzzle in place. He tries to press his mouth to your throat, but you hold him back, forcing his milky white eyes to stare directly into your own as you slowly sink down on his cock. It’s beautiful, the way his eyelids flutter and a frankly sinful groan escapes him.  

“Good boy,” you coo, earning yourself a rough jerk of Ghost’s hips. He starts rocking his body up and into your warmth, his gloved hands raising to grip at your waist.  

He pulls you down and onto him over and over again in time with his rapid thrusts, snarling and growling all the while. Ghost might not be able to shift his gaze from your blissed out expression, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less in control. The pace he sets is downright brutal, bullying his entire length into your sopping cunt until it nudges at your cervix.  

Even when you gasp at the sensation and one of your hands grips at his hair he doesn’t faulter. Your noises seem only to urge him on, his panting breath heavy as he endeavours to draw out at many sounds from your lips as physically possible. His intense gaze from where you hold his face only heightens the experience, his eyes scrutinising each and every expression you offer.  

You grow close to orgasm almost embarrassingly fast, but all it takes is a raspy, possessive, “mine,” snarled at you to have your pussy clamping down around Ghost’s cock.  

With your body growing weak from coming so hard, Ghost takes full advantage of your distraction, pushing you down and onto your back without missing a single beat in his current rhythm. He keeps going all through your orgasm, the slick from your tender hole only helping to easy his way. He doesn’t let up with his desperate chanting of, “mine, mine, mine,” right up until he spills deep inside you.  

Your attempts to dominate him hadn’t exactly gone to plan. Perhaps next time you should use some handcuffs as well.  

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #reader insert #terato #ask dove #dyingdovefics #🌋anon