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mrschtappen · 25 days

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𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄

I : The Call of the Circuit -> II : Dreams Ignited (soon) -> III : Untitled (soon)

masterlist

Max Verstappen x Schumacher!reader

Synopsis: childhood friends Max Verstappen and you, the daughter of racing legend Michael Schumacher, evolve from best friends to fierce rivals to teammates. maybe then to lovers....?

Monday, 10th December, 2018 Faenza, Italy

You sat alone at your new office, your eyes fixed on the glowing screen of your phone. The Twitter announcement you had posted earlier that day was still causing ripples across the internet, igniting a firestorm of reactions and responses from fans and followers around the world.

As you scrolled through the flood of comments, memes, and well-wishes flooding your feed, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. The overwhelming wave of support and excitement from your supporters served as a poignant reminder of the incredible journey that lay ahead.

You made sure you turned off the lights of your new office when you were about to go. Settling inside your Audi R8, the soft chime from your phone took your attention away from driving.

As you read Max's message about bringing a Michael Schumacher merch from Germany, a wave of mixed emotions washed over you. The mention of your father's name, especially in connection with Germany, brought back vivid memories of the ski accident that had changed your lives forever in 2013.

your heart felt heavy, a subtle ache resurfacing as you recalled the challenging times that followed your father's accident. The uncertainty, the hope, and the unwavering support from loved ones, including Max, during those difficult years played like a reel in your mind.

Despite the pain and the bittersweet nostalgia, you weren't angry with Max for bringing up those memories. In fact, you felt a sense of gratitude for his thoughtfulness and the comfort of your shared history. Max had been a pillar of strength and understanding throughout your journey, and his genuine care and friendship meant more to you than any merchandise ever could.

Sitting alone in your car, you took a moment to let the emotions wash over you. You reflected on your journey and the pivotal decision to join Formula 1, a deep sense of determination and purpose filled your heart. Since you were three years old, the dream of racing in F1 had been a beacon of hope and ambition, driving you to push boundaries and defy expectations.

You knew that stepping onto the track wasn't just about fulfilling your childhood dreams; it was also a tribute to your father and the legacy he had built. The memories of watching Michael Schumacher's triumphant moments, especially his 6th championship title, had ignited a spark within you, fueling her passion and commitment to chase after her own aspirations.

Despite the challenges and the weight of the past, you felt a profound sense of gratitude and pride. You knew that your journey was a testament to your resilience, determination, and the unwavering support of those who believed in you, including Max.

Sunday, 12th October, 2003 Suzuka, Japan

As a three-year-old, you may not have comprehended the complexity of Formula One racing, the excitement buzzing in the air, the infectious energy of the crowd through the grandstands. The vibrant colors of the racing cars zooming past, the deafening roar of engines, and the flashes of cameras captured your attention, painting a kaleidoscope of sensory impressions.

Although your understanding was limited at such a tender age, the sight of Michael Schumacher, dressed in his iconic red racing suit, elicited a sense of pride and admiration within your young heart.

"That's my dad !" your little fingers pointed at the red car zooming the finish line, practically screaming at everyone as you started clapping then.

The warmth of your mother's embrace welcomed you as you cheered together, caught up in the euphoria of the moment.

your eyes wide with wonder as you watched your father bask in the spotlight and as Michael Schumacher descended from the podium, triumphant and beaming with joy, his eyes sought out you, your mother and your older brother Mick in the crowd. With a tender smile, he reached out to scoop up his young daughter, lifting you into his arms and hoisting you high above the crowd.

the cameras flashed and the crowd erupted into applause, you enjoyed the attention, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world to be held in the arms of your racing hero.

The image of your bond captured for all to see, you knew that this was a moment you would cherish forever—a moment when you felt truly seen and cherished by the man who meant the world to you.

your dad, Michael Schumacher.

Saturday, 27th November 2003. Gland, Switzerland

you stepped onto the karting track for the very first time, your heart pounding with excitement and nerves. The whole family was there along with your dad's friend's family, the Vertsappens. With your tiny hands gripping the steering wheel of your go-kart, you were confused on how the whole kart operates.

"You've got this schatzi !" You heard your dad cheer for you from a distance, calling you a nickname that means sweetie in German.

Frustrated, you spoke

"How do I do this ?"

Max Verstappen, the seasoned six-year-old racer, flashed you a mischievous grin as he leaned over to offer his expertise.

"Watch and learn, little rookie. First, you gotta push down on the pedal like this..."

With a swift motion, Max demonstrated, his foot pressing down on the accelerator pedal with practiced ease. You watched intently, your eyes wide with fascination.

"Like this?"

you mimicked Max's actions, but your foot hesitated on the pedal, unsure of the right amount of pressure to apply.

Max chuckled, reaching over to gently guide your foot.

"Almost there, y/n ! You just need to press a little harder."

you nodded eagerly, determined to master the art of go-karting with Max's help.

"Got it! Thanks, Maxie !"

As you zip around the track, the conversation turned to your shared love for Formula One racing.

"Do you think we'll ever drive in Formula One, Max ?"

Max grinned, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Of course! And when we do, I'll be the world champion, then Mick and you will be my trusty sidekicks."

you rolled her eyes playfully, a giggle escaping your lips.

"Dream on, Max! I'll be the one leaving you in the dust!"

"Hey, you two ! How's it going ? " a familiar voice chimed in from behind you, causing both Max and you to turn around

Max grinned, giving Mick a playful nod.

"We're having a blast ! little rookie here is a natural behind the wheel."

you blushed at the praise from Max

"Thanks, Maxie ! And hey, Mick, I'm going to beat you someday !"

Mick laughed heartily, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Is that so ? Well, I look forward to the challenge ! Let's see who can get to formula one first"

Your banter filled the air with laughter as the three of you raced around the track, your friendship growing stronger with each passing lap. And as you crossed the finish line second, just a few millisecond behind Max, a smile grew wide on your face.

"Looks like you've got a prodigy, are you sure this is her first time ? She's a natural" Max's dad said, a chuckle escaped from your dad

You crossed the finish line just 4 tenths of a second later than someone who was 3 years older than you. You can feel the pride surging even when you were just so little.

"wow you're fast" your older brother said, giving you a high five as you returned it enthusiastically with a tiny jump

"yeah, not so bad little rookie !" Max also gave you a high five

you smile with your tiny teeths showing, your dad embraced you, lifting you up in the air

"my daughter is a soon to be formula one racer, and the world shall know you as for you are, not the daughter of a six time world champion but y/n Schumacher."

you couldn't help but feel grateful for everyone's guidance and support, knowing that with them by your side, you knew you were able to achieve anything.

Thursday, 14 March 2019 Melbourne, Australia ROUND ONE

As you took your first steps out to greet the fans, a wave of exhilaration and gratitude washed over you. The energy from the crowd was palpable, a mix of excitement, anticipation, and overwhelming support. The sight of fans waving flags, holding up banners, and wearing team colors was a surreal and heartwarming experience for you.

Walking along the barricades, you were met with a sea of merchandise bearing your name and face, along with the iconic Michael Schumacher memorabilia that fans had brought along. The presence of the Michael Schumacher merchandise added an extra layer of emotion to the moment, reminding you of the legacy you were a part of and the immense responsibility that came with it.

As you greeted fans, signing autographs and posing for photos, several fans couldn't help but comment on the striking resemblance between you and your legendary father, Michael Schumacher. Their kind words and compliments about your beauty and resemblance to your father filled you with a sense of pride and humility.

Amidst the flurry of interactions, one fan caught your attention with a cheeky remark that left both of you laughing.

you backed away with laughter, cupping your mouth, looking at a marriage certificate by an older fanboy, a good looking one you couldn't lie.

"I'm 19 !" You exclaimed, a wide laugh still visible on your face

"Maybe in a few years !" You joked, before moving to another fan, signing her cap with the number 57 on it, a number you chose to drive for.

It was media day today which means there's no driving and the press conference began with Lewis Hamilton from Mercedes, Sebastian Vettel of Ferrari, Daniel Ricciardo from Renault, Max Verstappen of Red Bull Racing and of course yourself, y/n Schumacher from Scuderia Toro Rosso.

"We’re gathered under very sad circumstances, following the news that Charlie Whiting, the FIA’s Director of Formula One died during the early hours of this morning. I’d like to start this press conference by asking each of the drivers present for their thoughts and memories of Charlie. Lewis, could we start with you, please?" Lewis spoke to the mic

"I’ve known Charlie since I started in 2007. I made some comments this morning on my Instagram. It may have not worked, as I think it’s down but obviously incredibly shocked this morning to hear the sad news and my thoughts and prayers are with him and his family. What he did for this sport, I mean, his commitment… he really was a pillar, as Toto said, such an iconic figure in the sporting world and he contributed so much for us, so may he rest in peace."

as the other drivers stated their comments regarding the passing of the late Charlie Whiting, it was your turn to answer

"How about y/n ? I believe this has come to a big shock as well as your father was also racing when he was the f1 racing director ?"

"yes, my father raced during Charlie's tenure as F1 Racing Director. I've met Charlie a few times and found him to be a wonderful person. His dedication to safety and fairness in Formula One was unmatched. Charlie's ability to connect with everyone in the paddock and his unwavering passion for the sport made him irreplaceable. My thoughts are with his family, friends, and the entire FIA community during this tough time. His legacy in Formula One will always be remembered"

as they continued tho the next question, you were shocked as to how bold and daring for this male interviewer to ask the whole lot of drivers with you

"Given the whispers around the paddock about nepotism getting y/n Schumacher this seat due to her father's legacy, and considering she is the sole female on the grid, do you drivers genuinely believe she is as competent as the other drivers, or do you acknowledge a potential gap in her skill?"

As the interviewer's words cut through the tension of the room, your face tightened, a blend of disbelief and frustration clouding your features. The weight of the question bore down on you, amplifying your discomfort and vulnerability in that moment.

You felt exposed, the spotlight glaringly bright, intensifying the scrutiny you felt as the only female driver on the grid.

Sensing your discomfort, a subtle shift occurred amongst the drivers on the panel. Eyes darted towards you, expressions reflecting concern and empathy.

Among them, Max Verstappen's gaze lingered a moment longer, his usually confident demeanor softened by genuine concern for his fellow driver.

The collective silence that followed the question seemed to stretch on, the atmosphere thick with tension. But within you, a resilient fire ignited. Drawing strength from the supportive glances of your peers and your own unwavering determination, you steadied yourself. You would not let this moment define you or shake your belief in your own capabilities.

"could we start with you again Lewis ?"

Lewis's expression tightened, clearly upset by the nature of the question.

"Honestly, I find it disappointing that in this day and age, we're still having these discussions. Women have proven time and time again that they can compete at the highest levels of motorsport. I've been a staunch supporter of women in racing, and I've seen firsthand the talent and determination they bring to the track."

"Look, in Formula 1, everyone's path to the grid is different. Yes, some of us come from racing families or have certain connections, but ultimately, talent and hard work are what count. I've faced skepticism throughout my career for various reasons, and I've always chosen to let my performance on the track speak for itself. As for y/n, she's shown promise and skill in her journey to F1. The sport is better when we have diverse talents, and I believe she deserves her place here"

"Thank you for the answer, could we move on to Vettel next ?"

Vettel's brows furrowed, eyes narrowing with a mix of disbelief and growing indignation. "It's disappointing, really, to hear these questions. Every driver on this grid has earned their seat through dedication, hard work, and skill. Formula 1 is a tough environment, and to suggest that anyone is here purely because of their name or gender undermines the effort we all put in. I've met y/n and seen her commitment firsthand. She belongs here as much as anyone else."

Then they moved on to Danny. His jovial demeanor momentarily shifted as he heard the interviewer's pointed question directed at you. Being someone who often exudes positivity and fairness, Daniel values meritocracy and respects the grind every driver goes through to reach Formula 1. Hearing a fellow driver being questioned on the basis of nepotism and gender struck a chord with him.

"Ah, the old nepotism and gender card. It's not a new question in F1, but it's one that misses the mark. Sure, having a famous last name might open some doors initially, but it won't keep them open if you can't deliver on track. As for being the only female driver, I think it's about time we focus on skills and capabilities rather than gender. I've had the chance to get to know y/n, and she's got talent. End of story."

Then they moved on to Max, who is known for his fierce competitiveness and straightforwardness. It was clear that he was infuriated by the audacious implication and the discomfort it caused you.

Seeing you visibly uncomfortable only intensified Max's emotions. He felt a surge of protective anger, recognizing the unfair scrutiny and challenges you faced as the only female driver on the grid. In that moment, the friendship among drivers was evident, as Max's concern for your well-being was palpable.

His eyes flashed with fury as he seized the opportunity to address the interviewer's audacious question. His voice dripped with venom as he unleashed his pent-up frustration.

"Firstly, the audacity to question anyone's place on this grid based on gender or family name is just absolute garbage. She's earned her spot on this grid through sheer talent and hard work, just like the rest of us. Anyone who suggests otherwise is either blind or just plain ignorant."

His words were sharp and cutting, each syllable laced with disdain for the backward mindset behind the question. Max's aggression was palpable as he continued to tear down the baseless accusations.

"In case you missed it, Formula 1 is about racing, talent, dedication, and hard work, not gender or who your parents are. It's disappointing to still be facing these backward stereotypes in this day and age. We should be focusing on racing and the incredible talent we have on this grid, not trying to create controversy where there isn't any . For the record, I've raced alongside her, and I've known her my entire life. Y/n is an extraordinary racer through and through, and she's proven herself time and time again."

He paused, taking a breath to temper his rising emotions before continuing,

"So, how about we focus on the actual sport instead of dredging up this garbage ?"

Max's aggressive defence reverberated through the room, leaving no doubt as to where he stood on the matter and silencing any further attempts to undermine your place in the sport.

As you listened to Max's vehement defense, a mixture of emotions washed over you. Initially, there was a sense of relief and gratitude. Max's and the other drivers' unwavering support and fierce defence of you felt like a shield against the unfair scrutiny you had faced. It was reassuring to know that your fellow drivers stood your her and were willing to call out the injustice.

Your eyes briefly met Max's intense gaze, conveying a silent thank you and mutual understanding of the gravity of the situation.

Then it was finally your turn to answer

With a poised demeanor, you addressed the room, your voice steady and confident.

"I'd like to extend my sincere appreciation to my fellow drivers for their support. It speaks volumes about the fellowship and respect we share as competitors."

Pausing momentarily, you continued with a touch of irony,

"Regarding the questions raised about nepotism and being the only female on the grid, I was under the impression that Formula 1 valued skill, determination, and performance above all else. My presence here is a testament to my commitment, capability, and qualities I believe are fundamental to every driver on this grid."

Maintaining your composure, you added, "While these questions may have been posed, my focus remains unwaveringly on racing. I am here to compete, to challenge, and to succeed, just like every other driver. I look forward to letting my performance on the track speak for itself. Besides, I don't see 19 men ahead of me, I see 19 challenges to be conquered."

With this response, you gracefully but firmly addressed the issue, highlighting your professionalism and determination to rise above the noise and excel in your chosen profession.

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mjolnirswriststrap · 2 months

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Not My Type

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2,329 Masterlist Part 2

Summary: Bucky is dumb.

Warnings: Fatphobia.

A/N: something short, sweet and simple because I’m starting to feel guilty about not posting 😭

Steve watched, as his friend searched around the club with his eyes. He could assume Bucky was just waiting on the rest of their coworkers to get there, but he knew better. “She’ll get here soon enough, relax.”. Steve leans his back against the booth and takes a long drink of his beer. “Who?” Bucky asks, unconvincingly.

“Y/N.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Bucky scrunches up his face “As if, man.” He ignores the look of disbelief Steve gives him. “Why deny it? I’ve caught you staring her down more times than I can count.”. Steve stands up and waves to signal Natasha to where they sat. “There’s nothing to deny, she’s not my type, leave it there so no one’s feelings get hurt, okay?” Bucky puts the bottle to his lips to shush himself when he sees you approach the booth.

“You guys look.” Steve’s speechless as he takes in the silk nighties the girls adorned. They all wore semi matching babydoll dresses. Color coded fishnets and heeled slippers adorned their long legs. Their hair was high and teased, makeup adding to the sultry bedtime look they were going for.

“You’re gonna catch flies.” Wanda remarks, leaving to find Vision having the time of his life with the DJ. Steve’s reaction to their costumes did nothing to calm your nerves. You went with the housewife costume too. Just a different approach entirely. Your hair sat in victory rolls atop your head, a thick stack of curls laying on your shoulders, a knee length dress with three quartered sleeves covered you. You’re painted your eyebrows on thinly, just to over line your lips, filling them in with your favorite red Mac lipstick. You were the most modest in your costume, but the most accurate.

You couldn’t wear a see through nightgown to the club. You would die of embarrassment, your rolls would be everywhere. At least in this thick cotton dress, no one could see the layers of shape wear you wore. You slid into the booth and sat beside Steve, getting sandwiched in when Sam finally arrives, late with no costume. “What took you so long, huh khakis?” You tease him, feeling nothing but comfort in his presence.

“You ever had to tell a 10 year old his idea isn’t good enough.” He laughs, “, You should go as yourself Unc!” He recalls the boys words over the phone. “Oh, of course, looks like a superhero to me!” You giggle, loving the thought of his nephews building up his self esteem. He was new to the team, no super strength or speed. Just courage, you admired Sam.

You finally take the chance to look around the booth. Steve wore his vintage Captain America suit, claiming it still fits like a glove. Bucky didn’t wear a costume, just his regular black t-shirt and leather jacket, no effort, even for Halloween. It helped Sam not look so out of place, so you just rolled your eyes at him. He tried way to hard to act like he didn’t care about anything, or anyone. You hate people like that, too self absorbed to carry on a conversation with someone who doesn’t benefit them.

You had been on the wrong side of his attitude before. Bumbling up to him after your first meeting. Stretching out your hand for a shake, he barely touched your hand as he shook your fingers, nodding at you with a curt “Welcome.” You didn’t think much of it till he sat beside Yelena, who got recruited the same day as you, and sparked up a lively conversation with her, telling her if she needs anything at the compound to come ask him. That was the first time Bucky hurt your feelings, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Y/N!” Someone yells at you from the dance floor. It’s Yelena dancing alone, “You promised me a dance.” She says, holding her arms out for you. You nudge Sam on the shoulder and do the most embarrassing scoot out of the booth you could imagine. Your dress rode up in the time you’d been sitting there, causing your thighs to stick to the old leather. Your face grimaces and you peel your skin away, hoping no one noticed.

“I’m on the dance floor, as promised.” You say, holding her hands while she dances on you. “You’re gonna need to do more than stand there if you want him to notice you.” She remarks, not skipping a beat. Yelena knew you too well, she knew you picked the 40s for a reason, not going with their free spirit 60s slumber get up.

Giving her a wide eyed look, as if he heard over the thumping music. “We both know I have no rhythm, stop that.” You giggle when she presses her back against you and slides down into a squat. She goes behind you and grabs your hips, forcing you against her chest. She grinds you into her pelvis, using her hands to guide your hips in sync with hers. You never moved that way before, and the sensuality of it had your heart racing. Yelena could be anyone, tightly holding on to you, you closed your eyes and threw your head back on her shoulder, just to imagine it was him for a moment.

You feel Yelena’s lips tickle your ear and she’s whispering “Look who can’t take their eyes off of you.” You tilt your head down and open your eyes to lock them with Bucky’s. He looks angry, like you pissed in his cheerios. You turn your body around to face Yelena, “I think he’s upset I’m blocking his view from you.”. That causes her to laugh out loud, grabbing your shoulders to shake you. “You’re mad woman! Look at what’s right in front of you.”. You laugh and look behind you to see Bucky staring down his beer now, instead of you.

“Yelena, I don’t know how to put this, he probably doesn’t even go for girls like me, skinny blonde seems more his type. You, you seem more his type.” You plead with her. She just shakes her head, “He doesn’t like me, I promise, Y/N.” You nod your head, trusting the closest friend you had.

You make your way to the bar, grabbing a drink to cool yourself off. You’re walking back to the booth to get off your feet when you overhear Steve and Bucky’s conversation.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You look like a helpless puppy, just make your move.”

“As if I’d need to, she’s probably never had male attention, that’s too easy.”

“Just admit that you’re afraid of rejection.”

“From her? Never in a million years would fatty have a chance. Like I said she’s obviously not my type.”. Bucky instantly regretted the words as they came out of his mouth, he didn’t mean it. But Steve wouldn’t stop accusing him of having a crush on you.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you push them down. You knew better, Yelena didn’t, you shouldn’t have let her give you false hope. You choke down your pride and turn the corner, sliding into the booth as if nothing happened. “I think this is my last drink guys, I’m getting tired, and winter training starts tomorrow.”.

An echo of ‘boos’ and a “noooo why.” Almost tempt you to stay. But you know you’re not wanted here, by the one person that mattered. Steve catches your attention, “Are you sure? The nights still young.” He wiggles his brows. You give him a tight lipped smile, knowing he tried to get Bucky to make a move.

“Yeah, there’s really not much for me here. I came for Natasha.” He nods, giving Bucky a death glare. You finish your drink and when you stand up the previous shots you had with Wanda hit you. You quickly sit back down, grabbing the table for stability. “Are you alright?” Steve rests his hand on your lower back, scooting closer to you.

You shake your head, not being able to form words. You think you’d faint if you didn’t focus on breathing. “Let me help you home.” He can see the unsure expression on your face. “Wouldn’t be respecting the suit if I didn’t make sure you got home safe.”. With that he convinced you.

When the cold October air hits your face, it sobers you a little bit, taking away the dizzy feeling, leaving you with a thumping head. Steve takes a few minutes to join you outside, you left him in a heated whisper match with Bucky.

You’re leaned against the side of the building when he finds you. “Ready to go?” He offers you his arm but you shake your head. “No need to be such a gentleman, it’s just me.” You say, knowing he’s doing it just to be nice.

Steve cocks his head to the side. “Why shouldn’t I be a gentleman towards you?” He asks. You press your pounding head against the brick wall, closing your eyes to think of the right words. “The only reason a guy needs to be a gentleman is for good impressions. I highly doubt you feel a need to impress me.”.

He scoffs at you, “What gives you the impression that you’re not worth impressing?”. Even though you were tipsy, Bucky’s words seared your frontal lobe. You suddenly are at a loss for words. How do you tell him you were eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I just don’t get much male attention I guess.” You let him in, his eyes widen in realization that you heard Bucky’s harsh words. “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He says, stepping closer to you. You roll your eyes at him.

“No, he knew exactly what he was talking about. Fatty is no one’s type. No one looks at me and thinks “woah, the most beautiful woman in the world just walked in the room”.” You push yourself off the wall. “I understand that you wouldn’t get that, since you’re so perfect Steve. Women lay down at your feet, your options are endless. But not for someone like me.”.

Steve’s face had turned into a stone. His jaw clenched tightly. He let you vent out your frustrations. “The way you looked at the girls, the way half the club looked at the girls, I’ll never have that.”. You look at your feet and notice him take a step closer to you. You look up to see your faces not too far apart.

“I was looking at you too.” He reaches out, letting his hands hover over your waist. He rests them on your hips when your don’t push him away. “I don’t care what he said, he’s just insecure, he can’t admit that he thinks you’re hot.” You scoff at him this time.

“Steve whatever you’re doing, I get the whole nice guy thing. But just stop.” You say, pressing your hand against his chest. The thin polyester did nothing to conceal his smooth muscles. You feel him squeeze your sides tighter, his thumbs pressing into your belly. “He doesn’t speak for me.”.

You look into his dark eyes. “What are you saying?”. You’d never even humored yourself by considering Steve. You now had to rethink every encounter you ever had with him. “Forget him, let me show you how a real man appreciates a woman.”

He slides his hands down, letting them grasp as much of your ass that could fit in them. You gasp, he wasn’t afraid of your body, he knows what it has to offer. Judging by the way he gripped on to your ass like his life depended on it, he liked it.

“What if someone sees?” You say, pushing his hands off of you. He replaces them “I’m not afraid, why are you?” He leans down, connecting your lips, you’re frozen for a moment. How do you kiss him back? Before you could find out you feel a hand on your shoulder, ripping you away from Steve.

“What are you doing?” Bucky is talking to his friend, ignoring your existence. “Excuse me, we were in the middle of something.” Steve steps between you and Bucky. “You shouldn’t be out here hooking up with a random coworker.” Bucky says, trying to convince himself.

“Y/N isn’t a random coworker, Jesus Bucky, what’s your problem?” Steve asks, letting his anger show. He knew what he was doing, if Bucky wouldn’t admit it on his own, jealousy would work just fine. Bucky balls up his fists at his side “You know what my problem is.”.

You’re staring at Steve’s back, you don’t know what Bucky’s talking about. Is he so repulsed by a plus size woman, he doesn’t even want his friend with one? You were done, you’d never done anything to Bucky besides exist. He had an imaginary problem with you.

You stepped around Steve, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You don’t know where the boost of confidence came from, probably Steve’s lips and hand placement. You look Bucky up and down, truly taking him in.

He was perfect, and he knew it. It was starting to disgust you. “Just because ‘fattys’ like me have no chance with you, doesn’t mean that I’m not worthy of another man being attracted to me.” You take a step back, pressing yourself against Steve. Just to show Bucky, you meant business.

Basing it off of the hard indentation on the front of Steve’s spandex, he liked watching you tell Bucky off. You turn your body around to face him, throwing a look over your shoulder at Bucky, “Take me home Stevie.” You sing song in his ear.

A smirk falls on his lips, “Let’s do that princess.” He says while leading you out of the alley. Bucky is stuck in place, having an internal war with himself, that you weren’t gonna stick around for.

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riminiscensce · 2 months

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FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS ִ ࣪𖤐

Akaashi Keiji / Bokuto Kotaro / Hoshiumi Korai / Kozume Kenma

SYNOPSIS ... their crush (you) made them friendship bracelets!

NOTES ... OHHH WRITING FOR HAIKYUU I MISS IT!!! (srry i'm half asleep relying on a nutella sandwich to keep me awake) sry im a bit chaotic rn

CONTENTS ... fluff , gender neutral reader

AKAASHI KEIJI

he finds it adorable, he isn’t usually surrounded by people who do something so silly and simple such as making beady bracelets for their friends. it’s such a pure thought to him and he finds that it fits you really well.

he wears it, of course. not everywhere and everytime (he’s not that obsessed not yet), but usually he pretends that it’s some sort of lucky charm to get him through the day, especially on tough ones.

occasionally, he wears it during plays. not every time. he’s afraid he might break it, and he doesn’t have the heart to break the news to you and maybe ask you for a new one. but luckily, keiji is the perfect guy for keeping fragile things safe.

but he’s also the type of guy to do something in return for someone who he sees in a far different light. so when he comes face to face with the bracelet corner of an art supply store, he starts remembering what you like.

didn’t you mention you liked this shade of color before? he’s sure you did.

do you prefer see through beads or sturdy ones?

would you get annoyed if there were too much dangling from it?

keiji is the type of guy to only get things that are needed, but that didn’t apply when he found himself buying a bit too much for making a bracelet. for you. but it’s for you so whatever.

the following day was when he planned on giving the bracelets to you. plural because he made one too many. (he wasn’t sure which ones you would like so he researched different types of design patterns so that they all wouldn’t look undistinguishable)

“eh?”

“I wasn’t sure how to properly make one, so I made a couple just in case you wouldn’t like some of it.”

“you kidding?” he mentioned how he wasn’t used to making bracelets, but the patterns and effort put into making these ones were just so advanced.

“uh—I wanted to return the favor.” he flicked his wrist up, showing the friendship bracelet that you had made him a couple days ago, still perfectly intact. “say… making these is relaxing, could you teach me a couple patterns?”

“what?! no— how about you teach me how you did this!”

works for him either way.

BOKUTO KOTARO

he gets excited ofc, but he doesn’t really know what it means. but who cares right? his crush just gave him something, it doesn’t matter what it means! he’s just a simple-minded happy guy who gets happy at simple things!

when kotaro heard that you made the bracelet just for him, he’s over the moon. I mean— who else gets hand-made gifts from their crush? not a lot! he feels like he had just struck a gold pot with such a simple gift.

he wears it everywhere. during a game, practice, sleeping, showering, anything kotaro does on a daily basis—but there are people like akaashi or konoha who warns him that the bracelet is still breakable, especially for someone as chaotic as him, the nylon band wouldn’t hold for long if he kept smacking those volleyballs with such strength.

unsurprisingly, it happens during a match. just when kotaro had just hit a line shot, he feels like he’s on a roll. but when he landed back on the ground, the sound of the volleyball hitting the ground wasn’t the only thing heard, nor were the murmurs of the players on both sides.

tiny resin beads fell onto the wooden floor, then silence and dread soon followed kotaro.

the team had to clean the beads up to avoid injury, despite the ace wanting to pick them up and fix it right that instant— he can’t he has to finish the match

of course, this gets kotaro into a bitter taste, missing all his shots, his spikes were clunky, and his serves were ordinary, sometimes even missing.

they still won in the end, then kotaro could finally express his frustrations, not for his lack of play in the game but for the remaining pieces of the hard work you had put into giving him.

you eventually find out about this (through the immense begging of the team to have you confront a shameful kotaro since he himself feels too bad to actually tell you)

“I-I’m so sorry!” the ace acts in a way that felt like he had just done something to betray you (he didn’t but he feels really ashamed)

“kotaro it’s okay really, it—“

“but you worked so hard to make it! you know? like getting those annoying beads through the string and— and those… I really like the designs you did.” It didn’t take long before he started sobbing like a toddler who just had his favorite toy broken.

“really?” despite his playful sobs, you can’t help but chuckle and feel so warm that kotaro felt this way about something you made for him. “if that’s the case, why don’t we make some together? i’ll be sure to make them extra sturdy so they can withstand your amazing spikes!”

“really?!” he switched up so fast just by the thought of spending time with you.

HOSHIUMI KORAI

this guy… he has a lot of pride and unmeasurable ego. you really think he’d accept some silly little bracelets that someone made him that makes him look even more like a child?! of course not!

though in this case, you aren’t exactly just someone hehe. anyone who tried to put something silly on korai would be met with a pissed off expression and some degrading words— but when you fished him out of practice to show him some bracelets, he was confused.

“what are these?” korai knows what those are, he was more-so asking why are you giving it to him.

“friendship bracelets. I made them, aren’t they cute? I made these two for you, see?” he eyed the dangling set of beads that perfectly matched his colors: white, blue, black— one had his jersey number in the center while the other had his first name ‘korai’.

you made these for him? him specifically?

he loves it. but of course. his way of displaying it is just questionable.

“hah?! you really made these silly things for someone like me?!” (translation: i can’t believe you thought of me to the point of making me hand-made things, you’re so precious I don’t deserve you)

“yeah? don’t you like it?”

“well…” yes he does, it sort of pained him when he heard your question filled with sudden regret. “you know, if I receive, my wrists won’t be a stable surface for the ball if I wear that.” (translation: i love it, i’m scared if I might break it while receiving for spiking though, but I also want to wear it all the time so i’m kind of conflicted)

“oh… okay then.” korai flinched when you started to turn away with the bracelets in hand.

but before you could, his hand grabbed your wrists in a typical shojo manga fashion and dragged you closer to him (sorry I just finished rewatching kimi ni todoke)

“i’ll take both.”

when korai returned to practice, both his wrists were dangled with blue-white bracelets, displaying them as if they were hard-earned trophies (they are to him)

he doesn’t make it obvious but he flexes his new bands, to his teammates, classmates, opponents— even to the reporters and viewers. not you though. that’ll be a different story.

but he slips a bit when a reporter approaches him after a victory in the nationals.

“my receives weren’t even in their perfect shape, I bet other players can’t even pull off what I did with something like bracelets on—hah I bet they can’t even get a hand-made gift from someone special like I did—“

“korai-kun, you do know they could be watching right.” his teammate right then and there waved at the camera and called out your name with a “hi!” through the screen.

“h-hirugami— argh! forget it! i don’t want to continue!”

it wasn’t after that day when he received a message from you. “someone special?”

KOZUME KENMA

he was confused. what was he supposed to do with them?

“you wear them? duh.”

“yeah but…”

it was cute. the bracelet and the gesture. but wouldn’t it be too… attractive? wouldn’t other people question him on why he’s wearing something like that around his wrists?

“it’s okay if you don’t wear it, just keep it somewhere.”

only when you left did kenma slip the beady bracelet around his wrist. he shook his arm, ensuring it wouldn’t fall off easily and that it didn’t make much noise.

it felt normal. it wasn’t annoying nor did it get too suffocating, it was just right. it wouldn’t cause much distraction for him.

oh but it did though. just like how much you had occupied his thoughts, so did this bracelet you made for him. every time he was holding his controller, he would be reminded of you because he saw what was around his wrist, which causes him to lose focus on the game and eventually get defeated.

and when setting the ball, his hands are always in view, meaning he could see some of the see through beads glistening from the ceiling lights when he was about to toss the ball, leading him to be distracted and lose focus, completely missing the ball as it lands on his face and onto the floor.

“what’s up with you?”

“nothing, the lights were blinding.”

“maybe your eyes are damaged after playing those video games at night with max brightness.”

“kuroo i’m fine.”

“really?” the captain then points to his wrist, “that bracelet sure does look fine as well.”

before kuroo could get a hand on the beads, kenma snatched his hand away before heading to the bathroom.

he couldn’t ignore the grinning face of his friend as much as he couldn’t ignore the thought of you for as long as he wore this bracelet.

and so he doesn’t.

when you watch him play against some school for a tournament, expectedly, your hand-made gift wasn’t around his wrist.

you expected it, but somehow it felt a bit disappointing.

“what’s wrong?” it was already class, and as usual kenma noticed something wrong about your sudden gloominess.

“nothing.”

“hm.” was all he said before continuing spamming buttons on his switch, you really wanted to ask him.

did he not like it? maybe it was a bit too silly? too out of character for him? you thought that maybe it would hurt his ego (you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have one but more of “image”)

“hey…“ you stopped when you saw a glimpse— just a glimpse of something dangling around his wrist. it was hidden, really well-hidden through his sleeves.

“yeah?”

“oh, nothing.”

“you’ve been saying that a lot.”

“what? not like you don’t say it a lot too.”

“i don’t.”

“yeah? what’s that thing around your wrist?”

“nothing.”

rimi's notes ...

sorry if it feels ehh yk? haven't wrote for hq in like years (i think) i kinda miss it was also supposed to include noya suna and tsukishima but figured it was getting a bit too long eh next time ig (planned to also do this for other fandoms as well) ALSO IDK HOW TO MAKE A MASTERLIST (sidenote: korai is a cutie patootie he deserves more fics here) hearts / reblogs / follows are very much appreciated ★

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #akaashi x reader #bokuto x reader #hoshiumi x reader #kenma x reader #haikyuu fluff #idk what im writing im half asleep what #i love making friendship bracelets #korai x reader

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ladythornofrivia · 9 days

Text

Lady with Teal Eyes || Aemond x Aunt!Hightower Reader (Part Two)

word count:

author’s note: writing more chapters of a sad dragon family series. I’ll be on a Norwegian cruise line for Italy and Greece for 2 weeks. I’m gonna be seasick, I already know it. So I’ll be writing this series before I leave. Please enjoy and have a good day.

warnings: incest, cockwarming, teasing, sucking, p in v, rough play, flirting, wholesome moment, jealous aemond, possessive, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, second hand embarrassment, dark content, mentions of su*cide, Aemond being too touchy with his aunt, degradation, humiliation.

summary: Aemond meets his aunt for the first time, and there’s more than meets the eye. (there will be three parts).

The preparations for the celebration of King Viserys has reached closer whilst you accompanied Alicent into the corridor, corridor after corridor of a long tour within the Red Keep. Servants bowed as you all passed. Cold bows and cold eyes lingered, despite their bare minimums of smiling graciously at your direction, as Alicent presented the halls with lavish decor. However, mostly it was green and gold. But others blended it with black and red.

As always, you’re marveled by the exquisite lace and embroidered patterns and a clear structure of its final design of artwork is invigorating. The stitching is what you’re most impressed of.

As all Targaryens and Hightowers strolling, Alicent parted ways with her children, unbeknownst to you, the one-eyed prince had his hands behind his back, violet shade of eye looming over your new gown designed by the seamstress, all soft-shaded periwinkle, strapped with gold embroidery and green and red, streaks of iridescent shun upon sunlight, your manes healthy and glowing, maintained through and through.

You knew he was watching. With his precious one violet eye gleaming at the back of your head, your body shivered in an alien sensation. As for Aemond, a dragon’s hunger is anything but stable or sane. A dragon’s hunger is like a breath of wild fire casted to the torch of the wondrous nature and life itself. The fire eats and leaves the bones of ash, dwindling in midair.

Aegon I altered the history and thus, House Targaryen must stand with unity and strength and blood.

Still parted aways after an idle chat, for Alicent to task with decorations, as her children were long gone, back into your large chambers, you were unpacking your materials for the completion on a quilt, a quilt with colorful dragons and mermaids and ships, various shades of sews and needles unpacked, as the back of your neck tingled with goosebumps as you felt a hot breath stroking.

Before you turned around, large and slender hands travelled over your clothed waist, nearly close to your chest above. A writhe of hot tingle rushing in your coils and chest. A quiet breath strained, lax down to a low hiss, a hiss nearly tickling your skin. No servants were around, no Alicent or Gwayne.

Aemond, a one-eyed prince has lurked and captured you. A princess sent by a Maiden herself. The fiery dragon must seize the princess.

You thought he has gone back to training yard with Ser Criston, as Alicent mentioned once at the entryway within a prolonged conversation.

“Aemond—”

His face inched close to yours, his supple and pretty lips touched your cheeks, trailed down to your jawline, whilst his left hand grasp your face to stay still. The pool between your legs gradually strengthened its warmth and slick, easily for the prince to prance and insert into your tight hole. Under the layers of silk dress, Aemond bunched the layered fabrics to your waist.

You never had a noble taken an interest in you. The only that interests them is the brightness of your teal eyes.

A mesmerizing glow of your hues has yanked his curiosities. His mother never mentioned him about you—not even once in a dubious talk.

Better late than never.

With his hand, fingers strapped, and his trimmed nails clutched the fabric of your corset, the laces loosener it in smooth motion, loosening around your frame, breasts ached as his hand—his cold hand—brushed and pinched your nipple while his other hand found his way your thigh, grasped as Aemond’s tongue flicked and his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your clit.

A moan escaped, your mouth shielded, you face drowned in flush, as Aemond’s heart leapt in satisfaction. Humming, he stood up and inserted his fingers into your cunt, thrusting the fingers in with doubled speed as your moans grew louder, but restrained the pleasure into your chest, holding it. The walls in the Red Keep are dire; servants and nobles and guards walked passed and patrolled through wall and doors. Even the highest nobles strolled by.

“Fuck,” is all he said, as if it was a prayer. “Your cunt might be as Holy as the Maiden herself.”

His lips sucked your swollen tit.

“My prince,” you cried softly. “Please. The guards, my brother and sister will see us.”

“I do not care of their pious thoughts.”

“I’m your aunt, my pri—”

“Don’t fight it, my sweet,” he said, giving a sensual flick on his warm tongue to your swollen flesh, “I might give you a reason to have bruise on you, ones that they’ll never find on your skin.” His hands grasped your waist, trailing with soft strokes. “You’re humiliated. Maybe there’s more than meets the eye.”

Based on his words, you never thought you found it attractive, considering the soft spoken voice, hoarse with arousal.

“Don’t fight it. If you fight against this, this subtle encounter between us, you’ll never forgive yourself,” he whispered, his wet lips brushed yours. “If you have been, you would shoved me away. Would you like that, princess? Shoving me away?”

His voice ragged dampened your cunt and clit twitched at his sound.

“Seems you enjoy it. You’re a good princess. But alas,” he pulled himself afar, the warmth on your body began to turn a chill.

“I shall see you at the feast. Enjoy your stay.” His neck went for a stiff bow, but his eye glued with plea for your consideration of his statement, whether you accept his offer or not, and departed your apartment—a once organized structure is now filled with clutter and oozing sex and the arousal groans you shared has imprinted in your head, you find yourself still with embarrassment.

In a way, a blessing in disguise when no one, not even Gwayne, saw or heard your affairs with a young dragon prince.

You have seen the arrival of Rhaenyra and Daemon and the children, you had a short introduction to all Black faction.

The dinner celebration for Viserys’s nameday celebration has been all but cumbersome. You felt a subtle hostility, but to due your presence, it has lessened but somewhat guarding up—all due to pettiness.

As you, making a progression with your father, it was all but cold distance even you and Otto were near. Not once he looked at you with adoration like he shared his adoration with Princess Helaena, showing her teal beetle. The Green children are all strained; Aegon had his fair share of capable stupidity to throw down a nasty comment of his cousins and nephews.

Daeron was disappointed with Aegon’s perversions, but Daeron veered at you with a kind smile and made a polite conversation with you. Once again, Otto did not acknowledged of your accomplishments. You felt sick in the stomach, and it’s not your bright gold and yellow dress you have finished making. Tears behind your eyes was arising, and your throat budged with hot and parched sting.

Aemond clenched his fist, for his anger was directed at his grandsire for not noticing you. That damnable old fool—if only Otto sees how your talents. When Viserys disregarded Aemond, even his siblings, he wanted nothing more than to see him dead. But alas, with your existence, it’s almost as if Viserys’s existence just naturally died out.

You pardoned yourself, and Alicent thereby dismissed you, you bowed and left to your chambers, spent the rest of the night weeping, thinking what have you done wrong.

As you exited, the tensed feeling withdrew, and Otto was happy again. And so, without a doubt, Aemond gave a good jab on Otto, which caused a disastrous supper for everyone. The music stopped. As for Aegon and Daemon, they found it amusing while Alicent ordered the guards to escort Aemond way back to his chambers.

For Aegon, this was a win for him. He’s not in trouble for once.

~~~

In dreams, you have never seen your mother, what she appears like or what she sounds like or how her personality was. The only thing that is closest to being a mother to you is the wetnurse or the servants or the Septa who provided you with assistance on your daily appearances and wisdom. Whenever a servant brushes your hair, you often think of what it feels like to have a mother brushing your manes with care and doting manner, a soft voice to soothe your aching heart, where doubts and fears would go away.

In times of sleep, you often thinking of ending your life, just to see your biological mother on the other side. Or perhaps more than just seeing your mother. There are times where you hated your life, and you want nothing more but to end it.

People have often told stories of your mother, though it felt it was a grave mistake. Some say she fled away to Free Cities, some said she ended her life from the highest tower of Oldtown and fell down to the sea. There are rumors where Otto took you because you’re adopted, or perhaps he had a secret, illicit affairs.

The cold feeling rushed in you as your eyes pricked with tears. With somebody telling you stories of your late mother, it brought no peace. Only the enigma of your shadowed doubts and an endurance of chaotic insanity, to question whether your life is real, if you’re real in this world with purpose.

The servants have been kind to you more than the nobles, the more everyone pointed out your flaws and the insignificance of your existence, you lead to believe that you’ll never be loved.

And cried once more. Each night, your tears flooded in pillows and blanket, as you embraced the closest object, pretended that it’s your late mother. An endless of an anguish thought has been a hazard.

Only the echoes of the walls could hear you and the pillows has stained, under your hug squeezed the material as hard, wishing for the pain to go away.

In his awake, he’s a perfect prince, but in his dreams, he’s a beast.

A beast kept within a shell of a noble man.

He has dreamt of your teal eyes basking in his dark dreamland, your voice, how it was yearning so much more. A dark dreamland filled with scornful memories of his nephews and Aegon, and the pink dread. He had kill all of them in his dreams, even the fat pig.

With a scolding from his mother, he couldn’t care less. He wanted your presence to be acknowledged by your father, but how can Otto be so cynically dimwitted and more offensively calculating against you?

When the servants spoke over how you’re not related to Alicent, chances are why Otto was pretending that your presence is nothing more than a useless and meaningless substance of meaning to exist.

Others said that they haven’t seen you gone out from your apartments—and that was recent.

Aemond visited you, presented you with a gift, but the word from you not leaving the apartments has concerned. Thus his mind came up an idea.

You have several servants entering the room with stack of your favorite meals and drink—including lemon cakes and Dornish wine.

One knows someone’s best interest. Whoever did it, your heart is elated. As soon as Aemond came in, you hadn’t known whether he knew something that you don’t. Somehow, his intimidating presence softens your heart, prickled in relief.

For some reason, when Alicent paid you a visit, although shortened, she was concerned of your health, you hadn’t formed a proper conversation; Alicent hasted when the Council has called for her summon, but gave her regards.

Aemond accompanied you for a while in your apartments, and chat whatever discussion came up. Each minute and each hour, the two of you became close, became so close that you or him hadn’t open your hearts, despite what he did to you days ago. With your cunt coiled at his face, his voice and neck, his waist, you find yourself crossing your legs, aroused and squirming beside him. You wondered and imagined of Aemond’s tongue guiding and gliding your soaked cunt. At this moment, you wanted tackle him and suffocate him with your legs wrapped around him, taking in of your nectar.

“I’m glad you are doing well, princess,” Aemond said to you. “For I have been concerned of your well-being. A delicate flower such as you does not deserve the cruelty of my grandsire or anyone in the matter of your visit.”

“He’s always been difficult,” you explained. “No matter how much I’ve improved with my skill, he’ll never sees as his or my sister’s equal.”

“In ways my mother and grandsire are more intolerable. Though I respect my mother, I find myself with bore with my grandsire has to say. If anything, I’m glad your presence has casted a light into the dread.”

In Aemond’s case, however, found you as exquisite as gentle as the blooming flower. His one took a longer glimpse at you and notice the difference—how your eyes glinted in glee while your cheeks adorned with youthful flush and enamored smile. Oh so pure and harmless. He hasn’t seen his mother and his siblings. As for Otto, he hasn’t spoke to him since supper at Viserys’s nameday after sending a jab across the face—out of character for a self-assured prince.

Oh, to ruin you.

“Thank you for the meal, Prince Aemond. You don’t know how much I’m relieved to say this,” you said as you finished the embroidery on your unfinished dress you sewn.

Aemond found your gowns just as otherworldly as you.

Consequences won’t matter; Viserys nor anyone else in the room care for his presence. Perhaps it is a blessing, perhaps it is for the best for you to be settled here in King’s Landing, as long you’re in content, nothing else matters, but if harm does come, he shall smite the immoral act. Aemond is no perfect, but with you, he’d be at his best behavior.

“Then I shall relieve you,” he proclaimed.

You find yourself halted at his declaration and glimpsed at his resolved expression.

Something has stirred in your heart that you wanted more than the civil interactions, wanted more than having someone to converse with you.

Tossing and turning onto your bed was all but a doozy. Dizzy from pivoting and switching positions, you had enough. Dreams had come again. This time it’s Aemond calling out to you, feasting on your wet folds and pumping his lithe and graceful rugged fingers in you. Ever since the day before Viserys’s nameday, with Aemond’s thirst, your legs ached.

For a Hightower, it’s a sin to self-pleasure one’s body—a selfish immoral act.

Somehow you found it odd. If a man does self-pleasure, no court would turn the eye, but a woman does self-pleasure with hasting fingers and naughtiness is considered dire.

Faith of the Seven had their own laws, but you knew that men and women had their fair share of illest secrets. Lucky for you, Alicent and everyone in the Red Keep does not know your impure thoughts. The room became hot, then cold, then all at once, the breath in your lips became ragged and desperate. You wanted someone to hold you, treasure you, seduce with sweet nothings and sweet promises with adore.

For your years of not having a partner, you have begun to fear of not having pleasure. In the heating moment, you thought of what’s like losing your maidenhood to someone with a big cock.

You wanted a cock.

His cock.

Oh, a dragon prince. If Aemond hears your thoughts, you’d run away and never to return Westeros and give yourself a new name and fashion.

Damn the consequences and the punishments from the Lord Hand and the Queen themselves! Damn the Faith of the Seven and their laws!

With your fingers circling your clit, no climax arrived. Thus, you casted your blankets aside with a huff, setting out to see him.

Trudging through the dark halls, the guards were nowhere to be found, assuming the guards went elsewhere. As you made your way to the doors, you approached and entered the chambers where you have found Aemond on his bedside.

Your breath held back, taking in at the sight of Aemond. With his porcelain skin and his long silver-blond hair, it gleamed under moonlight, appearing paler compared to daylight. His eye had an old scar, and his eyepatch was placed elsewhere.

Watching his body rising and falling within breath, you approached him and kissed his back, planted your light kisses, feeling the smooth surface of his skin.

Aemond awoke and turned, found you kissing his back.

“My lady,” he whispered, one eye widened, as you stare at his sapphire. It was beautiful like him.

You placed your finger on his lips.

“Have you come to made a decision?” he asked.

Your lashes fluttered under his gaze. “What do you think, my prince?”

Then your lips collided with his. Aemond was taken aback of your sudden act. Eventually, his consciousness fell; with his lips shared an illicit chaste kiss, his hands uncloaked you, and roamed on your womanly body, caressing you, until you began to undo his trousers, his cock hardened.

“This won’t take long,” you promised, slowly pinning him down onto the pillows, unstrapped yourself naked and sat in between his legs. You didn’t expect for his cock to harden.

Your eyes darted to his, awaiting. And thus, you yanked his trousers downward, unveiling his hardened cock. You eyes widened at the sheer size. Your maidenhood hasn’t been taken yet. Your future prospects of marriage hasn’t arrived, but it feels as the more you wait, the more your chances of marriage dimmed. With your body descended, the maidenhood had met his engorged tip.

Aemond lay still, watching you. His sapphire eye gleamed at its victory.

Your voice moaned aloud; your maidenhood slammed down, his engorged cock tightened on your damped walls. Gradually, the pace on your hips sped. You have never felt anything as good. Prayers in the sept are insatiably helpful compare to the prince’s cock.

You have never felt so alive.

Aemond knew you’re a virgin; your hips bounced all thanks to the guidance of his hands.

He pleasured a woman in the brothel in the Street of Silk at the age of three-and-ten. As a young boy, he regretted making a decision by making himself a fool to go along with Aegon and his shenanigans. He was expecting Viserys to guide him gently into the world, but the Driftmark incident has left Aemond concluded that Viserys, his father, did not spare a single kindness or thought and only spared it Rhaenyra and her sons.

All hope was lost until he saw you—a radiant maiden.

You reached your high, as Aemond clutched your hips, spurring down the hot semen bursting the inner walls—a divine conclusion.

Gasping for air, your legs stood achingly, leaving white traces of his semen dripping down on his balls and thighs. When Aemond tried to assisted you, but instead his face met your open legs and slammed your went against his chiseled face and nose.

Fuck my maidenhood, you thought, desperate, as your hips gyrated, feeling his warm tongue and the sharp line of his nose encouraged your arousing sense to further the climax, as your right hand found its way at the back of Aemond’s hair.

Aemond find himself humming against the warmth of your cunt, mingling with his semen. It was a divination, nothing like the brothel. If only his virginity had taken by you instead of a woman who hasn’t live up to her beauty and standards of gentile and grace. Streets of Flea Bottom aren’t to be trusted. His lips kissed your inner thighs, gliding his tongue, and pumped it in between your walls.

Groaning, almost feral-like, your hips paced, your tits bouncing as your walls grew hot again.

“Relieve me,” you said to the prince, hoarse. A soft squeak caught into his ears.

I shall relieve you, my sweet. Just as I promised, he thought.

Your hips gyrated harder, until the spurring had come close; hot liquid squirted on his face as Aemond’s tongue lapped on your cunt faster than last. Your head threw back with his languid strokes on his warm tongue.

Gods it was a miracle.

He has taken your maidenhead.

“Good boy,” you cooed, your breath rasped, your hand still placed on the back of his long silver-blond hair, gyrating your tired hips against his face.

Both you and Aemond found yourselves in elation.

“Good boy.”

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scuderiasundays · 9 months

Text

chili’s angels

summary: carlos can’t say no to his little girls, leaving him with some explaining to do on media day + a little insta au at the end 🌶️

words: 806

a/n: this one was in my drafts for a while but i brought it out for @thatsdemko and all the dad! carlos girlies out there. i know there are a lot of you! tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, and @diorleclerc just because. feedback is much appreciated as always. hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

When Y/N found out she was pregnant with twin girls, Carlos was over the moon. He had been raised by a vivacious mother and alongside two sisters, who despite driving him mad as a child, had become his closest confidantes. Carlos stopped wearing the Tom Ford cologne you once loved when it started to trigger your nausea. He rushed to a nearby drive-through at midnight solely to satisfy your craving for fries and a milkshake. And when your shoelaces needed tying, he was always there to help.

“I feel like I’m asking way too much of you,” you spoke. He smiled and gently caressed your growing belly. "Never, mi amor. Taking care of you and our girls is my purpose now," he said tenderly. "You're an amazing mom already, and I can't wait to see our daughters grow up with the same strength and love that you have."

You had held off on naming the twins because you strongly felt you owed it to your daughters to meet them and get an actual feel for their energies. Together, you spent an evening brainstorming a list of potential names, Carlos voicing a particular preference for their names starting with the same letter. Labor proved to be more challenging than anyone had ever prepared you for, leaving you drained once it was over. Carlos cradled the newborns in his arms, softly uttering their names, "Melina" and "Mila," while his gaze shifted from one little face to the other.

Flash forward, and your twin daughters thought the world of their dad. You loved getting to see Carlos in a new light, your love for him only growing as you watched him interact with your girls. "Can we go outside and play? Please!" Melina and Mila were like the Energizer Bunny times two on the rare weekends when Carlos was home. Although he rarely said no to them, they were both feeling under the weather, so he shook his head. "How about we stay inside and do some drawing?" he suggested.

"Can we paint your nails? Mamá always lets us," the girls asked, their eyes widening as they edged closer to him. Carlos paused for a moment, thinking, what harm could it do? Eventually, he nodded in agreement. The girls knew exactly where their mother kept her nail polish kit and eagerly fetched the equipment. "We have Barbie pink and Ferrari red, just like our cars," Melina said, holding up the bottles with her pudgy fingers. "Mama wears the red one when we watch you drive on TV," Mila chimed in. He assumed Melina was referring to the little toy LaFerraris he had bought the girls on their birthday. He loved watching the girls as they raced in their garden, a tangible sign they had inherited his passion for cars.

"What's that thing you always say, Papá? For the Ferrari?" Mila looked up at her dad with chocolate brown eyes. "Forza Ferrari, mija," Carlos replied. Before he could even pick a color, Melina grabbed his hand and started painting his thumbnail bright red. The girls both had a hard time staying within the lines, so Carlos took it upon himself to clean up the edges. After they were done, he was instructed to place each hand under the UV lamp. He couldn’t help but wonder if the nail polish would come off easily later, but he soon noticed the excitement of being nail artists had worn the twins out. He picked them up and gently laid them down for a nap.

As Carlos boarded his flight to Hungary, he realized that his red manicure was not coming off without a fight. He absentmindedly picked at his nails, silently wishing his wife had been there to offer him the mini nail file she always carried. With media day approaching, he knew that people would definitely pick up on his vibrant nails.

"Nice nails, Carlos. Whose handiwork is this?" Natalie, a familiar face, pointed at his hands with a smile. Carlos chuckled and replied, "Oh, this masterpiece? My twin daughters painted them. I just don’t know how to say no to those two." He shrugged, shaking his head.

"Well, here they are to say hello.” The TV presenter had organized a surprise Zoom call with Y/N and Carlos' daughters, who had been nicknamed "Chili’s Angels" by his fans.

"Buenos días, mis hijas. I hope you're feeling better," he greeted them, waving at the camera. Melina proudly held up her mom's hand, showcasing her red nails. "Look! You and Mamá match now!" she exclaimed. Carlos winked at his wife, grateful for the little moment of connection despite the distance.

"Forza Ferrari, Papá!" Mila squealed, waving goodbye. “They really are my angels, all three of them,” he thought, setting off a mental countdown of days until he was back in their arms again.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 57,575 others

carlossainz55: life is sweeter with my angels. hope i’m making you proud 🫶🏼

yourusername: we’re so lucky to have you! you just had to choose THAT photo of mila scarfing down her pizza? clearly my genes 🍕🤤

fan1: chili’s angels merch when? i swear i will buy it ALL

landonorris: ask melly and milly who their favorite uncle is and i’ll let you by at the start on sunday!

carlossainz55: “come over, uncle lando! we can paint your nails orange.” - melina & mila sainz

anasainzvdec: the most adorable nieces an aunt could wish for ❤️

scuderiaferrari: when mila said “forza ferrari” in an interview this morning! who’s cutting the damn onions?

fan2: carlos and @yourusername are starting them off young 🥹

#carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz edit #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz #f1 x you #carlos sainz fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 instagram au #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz instagram edit #carlos sainz fic #dad carlos

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rae-writes · 7 months

Text

our bonds

om demons x reader

+ two bonus characters || 2.k wc

synopsis : [Rae’s] pact hcs ranging anywhere from size, placement, qualities, and additional little quips— in order of obtainment

Mammon’s pact mark is the biggest one you have; plastered over your upper back- right in the center- it circles around to the very end of your trapezius muscle, hitting parts of your shoulder, though it doesn’t reach past your neck. It glows a shimmering gold when in use. When activated, the feeling is the equivalent to a steady pulse of adrenaline

Mammon can splay his entire hand over the mark and not cover it all

Likes to hug you from behind so he can be pressed against it, and if you’re still enough, you can feel the quick thump thump of his heart against you

Loves when you wear tops that show it off

Has a Polaroid you took where your bare back is exposed to a mirror and you’re looking over your shoulder with a grin; it never leaves the clear pocket in his wallet

Traces it for comfort- whether he was feeling down or just to reassure himself that you’re his and you aren’t going anywhere

With the owner being so shy, it was a bit surprising to see Levi’s mark show up on the back of your right hand; the rather small size makes up for the bold placement. The very top of the sigil’s circle hits the bottom of your middle knuckle, going down until it hits your wrist line. When in use, it pulses a toxic shade of orange and has a faint iridescent tinge to it. The feeling is like a cold wave of pinpricks, as if you’d just jumped into the ocean headfirst.

Traces over it constantly- absentmindedly- as a form of both comfort and a way to relieve his anxiety

Can sit for hours and watch the iridescent shimmer (only if you’re fine with having it active for so long)

Preens subtly whenever you brandish it proudly when someone asks about it

Melts if you caress his face using that hand— especially if he’s been down in his sin and it’s glowing his orange

Bites the mark when he’s feeling particularly possessive, making sure the indents of his teeth (see: fangs) show

Unlike his brother, it was not a surprise to see Beel’s pact show up on your stomach. Evenly placed in the middle, it was your second biggest pact that reached a little below your belly button (much before your pelvis) and up to two inches below the tip of your sternum. Lights up a neon red when activated— almost like a warning sign. The feeling is practically numbing, like there’s suddenly a black hole there instead.

Always gives a big, dopey grin whenever he catches sight of it and offers you a bite of whatever he’s eating

He likes to nuzzle his head against the mark, occasionally sleeping there when he’s not holding you

Instead of having just an arm around your waist in town, he’ll also splay his hand over part of your stomach to feel even closer

Loves blowing raspberries right in the center of the sigil

Beel’s lock screen is a picture of you and him where you’re smiling with your arms raised in a cheer while he’s holding you up in his arms- in his fangol uniform and extremely sweaty- but with an even bigger grin as he rests his head against your stomach

Asmo’s pact shows up along your sternum, rather than being in a risqué location like you were expecting, and fits in the center of your chest thanks to its smaller size. When activated, the color varies from baby pink to hot pink, depending on exactly how much strength is flowing through the pact. It feels like a pleasant tingle blooming throughout your entire chest, slowly moving down to the rest of your body the longer it’s in use.

Rests his forehead over the area as a silent way of saying ‘I’m here, I love you, thank you for loving me as me’ especially when he’s feeling insecure

Uses it as the perfect excuse to include cleavage windows amongst the clothing he picks out for you

Likes to watch it turn from the lightest innocent shade to the darkest lust shade

Whenever you’re both doing a spa day, he makes sure to trace his sigil because it ‘will keep our relationship healthy!’

Cried the first time you showed it to him because you brought him closer so he could rest his head over it and the sound of your heartbeat made him feel so loved

You’ll find Satan’s pact marking your left wrist. It’s one of your smaller ones; it doesn’t pass the sides of your forearm and stays right below the wrist line— has a diameter of 3 inches from top to bottom. Is a neutral forest green when in use and gets either duller or brighter depending on how angry you get. Activating it brings a sensation bordering between a nice, cozy warmth and a scalding, burning warmth.

Kisses over the mark all. the. time.

also nuzzles his head against it like a cat

Like Levi, he has a habit of biting his mark whenever his sin starts to take hold of either of you

Can’t help but feel fuzzy whenever he sees it, no matter how many times he’s seen it

His favorite bookmark is a pocket sized photo of you throwing up a peace sign with his sigil showing

Located on your lower back, Belphie’s pact is very much the equivalent of a tramp stamp. A nice medium sized sigil that sits right in the middle, over your spine. When activated, the color is a faint amethyst with blue speckles floating about, no brighter than a nightlight. It sends a deep haze through you, like the feeling of finally settling into a comfy bed after a long day.

Falls asleep with his head resting against his pact— it’s one of his favorite spots

Has a hand resting there whenever you go out; it makes him feel assured and keeps him from losing you (he did that once…he nearly threw a tantrum in the middle of town)

His eyes always dart to your lower back when your shirt starts riding up

Can sit for hours and watch the blue speckles shift around

Another biter! Anytime he gets jealous or even just wants your attention, he’s biting over his mark sharply

Lucifer’s pact ends up on the back of your neck, big enough to see all the details, but small enough to fit right under your hairline and down to the base of your neck without stretching to the sides. It glimmers a deep, sapphire blue when in use and has a quick electric feel when first activated that smooths out into the equivalent of a light, steady buzz.

Has a habit of gently grabbing the back of your neck to get your attention (only when you’re alone)

Places a kiss in the center of the sigil every night before bed and every morning before leaving the bed

He doesn’t show it, but whenever his pact is visible in public, it sends a shock of pride right through him every time

While he would like to claim he’s more composed than his brothers, he also has the habit of biting his mark whenever he gets jealous or possessive

Tends to cup the back of your neck whenever you two kiss (and sometimes digs his fingers into the flesh gently when it gets a bit heated)

+bonus

Finally receiving one on your legs, Barbatos’ pact shows up on the outer side of your right ankle. Roughly the same size as Satan’s, it stops above your ankle bone and doesn’t breach the sides of your calf. The color comes in slow waves of jade green when in use and has a feel equal to being lost alone in an eerie forest— the coldness of the air and the distinct feeling of not actually being the only one there.

Subconsciously rubs his thumb over the mark whenever you’re casually lounging together

Anytime he’s helping you put your shoes on, he insists, because he is a gentlemen, he places a slow kiss in the center of the mark (if you’re wearing pants or long socks, he’ll pull up/down the material just to do so and then fix it right back)

There’s a picture hidden in your, Asmo, and Solomon’s D.D.D of a back shot of Barbatos, overcoat off, with your leg thrown over his shoulder, pact mark glowing on the skin of your ankle— magic works wonders when secretly snapping good shots

When you first formed a pact with him, everyone could see the silent smugness he radiated, but no one knew why for weeks because they couldn’t see the mark (everyone flipped once they did find out, though)

The rare times you’re both seated at a table together when he isn’t running around catering to everybody, he keens every time to rub your ankle against his under the table

Much to his surprise [and slight embarrassment], Mephisto’s mark appears on your left upper thigh, right under the hip bone. It’s also a good medium size, circling right in the center. It glows a pretty, royal shade of magenta when activated; gives you the feeling of simultaneously being both annoyed and accomplished.

Discreetly grabs your hips anytime he’s passing by behind you and runs his fingers over his mark before letting go

Anytime you throw your legs over him when lounging around, he always- absentmindedly- goes to rub over his mark

And another biter! He does try to maintain some ‘class’, but when it gets down to it and he’s just so frustrated and jealous, sinking his teeth into his pact makes him feel so much better

Sometimes gets insecure because his can’t be shown off as easily as the others

After seeing his pact activate for the first time, he became obsessed with the color magenta on you

Diavolo’s pact is the smallest one you have, formed to be discreet and to be able to fit behind your left ear; it's unnoticeable unless someone is actively looking for it. When in use, it’s a dull maroon shade- no brighter than one of those glow in the dark star decals. The feeling is that of having a powerful sugar rush.

Adores cupping your face for a kiss and being able to press his fingers against his mark discreetly

Was actually a bit pouty when he discovered it was far more hidden that the other pacts you have, but got over it pretty quickly

Got into the habit of brushing your hair behind your ear, just so he could touch his pact

Kisses the center of it every time you leave the castle

His home screen is a picture of you holding your hair up, revealing his mark, as you stick your tongue out playfully

++extra bonus

You get Simeon’s on the inner part of your right thigh, another one medium in size— about 3.5 inches in diameter, top to bottom. Activating it makes the pact shine with a gentle turquoise color. It’s a feeling of tranquility, of being secure and relaxed.

Enjoys resting his head over the mark whenever you’re both laying around

Caresses that area every time you’re seated in his lap

Even he didn’t expect it, but he’s also a biter; he’s gentle with it, though, knowing his mark is at a rather tender spot until those possessive urges hit

Involuntarily scowls when he sees one of the others touching the area his mark is at

+++extra extra reverse!bonus

Your pact mark goes right over Solomon’s pelvic bone— a nice medium size to where it doesn’t show above his pants (if someone were to catch him with his shirt off). It swirls a pearlescent white when activated.

You send him a sly look anytime he talks to one of the other demons he has a pact with (except for Barbatos) and it makes him weak every. single. time.

He practically keens every time you glide your nails across your pact

Embarrassed when he finds a picture on your D.D.D of him laying on his back, your thighs locked on either side of him, with your fingers curled in the fabric of his pants, pulling the material down just far enough to see your pact (but he doesn’t make you delete it)

Has to refrain from jolting whenever you sneak up behind him and press your hand down over your mark

Don’t even get him started on the times you and Barbatos team up to tease him

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gatorbites-imagines · 4 months

Note

hiiiii!

may i request a poly ghost face x male reader who has anger issues(but he's such a bottom its sickening) and like his anger issues make people think he's all tough and he's been to like psychiatric hospitals for seriously hurting people and its times to renew his medicine but the doctor is out or they don't have his medicine in stock, so for the next week he has to go without medication and he gets into multiple physical fights and by the end of the week he like breaks down and is like "i don't wanna be angry all the time" which leads to a sweet cuddle session nd praise from billy and stu as reader cries and soon falls asleep

thank you sm!

Billy Loomis x Male reader X Stu Macher

Headcanons

Reader is on the more muscular side in this.

You had a reputation around Woodsboro, as a no fucks, dangerous and angry meathead. It mainly stemmed from the fact that you got into a lot of fights when you were younger, and was sent away to a psychiatric hospital for a while to find the right dose and medicine to give you.

It didn’t help that you lifted weights, worked out, and did different martial arts to help settle the anger that always simmered inside your body. As puberty hit, you shot up like a beanstalk, and you packed on muscle like no one’s business.

Your parents supported you, since having an outlet helped a lot with your anger issues, as long as you took your medicine, which they always made sure was available.

Because of your reputation, no one dares to say anything when you, Billy and Stu start openly dating. People are mostly confused by someone as popular and attractive as Billy and Stu would wanna go out with someone as rough and off-putting, in their eyes, as you.

Your boyfriends love you very much though, and they don’t mind your tendency to resort to anger quicker than most. Billy probably finds it hot to be honest, and Stu always likes to lay on your bed and watch as you lift weights in one of you tank tops.

I can honestly see Billy pushing your buttons just enough to make a vein pop and for you to pin him down, just for him to smirk and wrap his legs around your waist. Hes a little shit, and likes the thrill, what can I say.

Stu has definitely made comments about how if you need an outlet, he doesn’t mind help you out, if you know what I mean ;) ;)

You always just roll your eyes and go for a run to cool off, or do some other hobby your therapist and psychologist recommended, like gardening, journaling or coloring.

Your week starts of shitty, when you run out of your meds. Your parents take you to your doctor to get a new dose, but they’re all out and don’t know what they’ll get their next shipment.

They promise to get in contact with you as soon as they have it, and you get sent on your way, arriving at school later in the day than normal.

The first day or two is fine, since your last dose is still in your system, but when that runs out you start getting agitated. You grind your teeth and crack your fingers, feeling fidgety and so annoyed and angry by everything.

Literally everything pisses you off, from the way people chew gum, to how loudly people close their lockers, or how people cut in front of you in line in the cafeteria.

Billy is the first to notice how tense and agitated you are, as you prowl around like a caged tiger, glaring at everyone and everything. Stu notices not long after when you just grumble and mutter when he tries to play flirt with you or wrap his arm around you.

You get into multiple fights that week, from someone calling Stu and Billy a slur because you three are openly in a relationship, to a guy who bumper checked you on the way to school.

Normally Billy and Stu would enjoy the show of strength and how hot you look, but they can both see how miserable it makes you feel, especially when you are sent home and suspended for an entire week.

When you return home, you stomp upstairs into your room and throw off your jacket and shirt and just get to work lifting weights until everything hurts, and even then, you don’t stop.

Normally lifting weights help at least take the edge off, but nothing is working, only frustrating you more and making you even more angry. It reaches the point where you just wanna cry from how angry you are.

You don’t even notice how you’ve been at it for hours until Billy and Stu arrive and see you hunched over with a dumbbell, arms shaking from how far you’ve pushed yourself.

You are just scowling though, barring your teeth as you push yourself harder and harder, eyes shiny from unshed tears and very dehydrated from working yourself so hard.

Billy goes off to get you something to drink, some clean clothes and a wet washcloth, as Stu goes about getting the weight out of your hand and making sure you are at least okay. When he asks if you are okay, it just all spills over.

You start sobbing and shaking with anger and misery, crying into Stus shoulder as Billy returns. He puts the things he brought aside, and they just hold you as you cry, choking out how you just don’t wanna be so angry anymore, how everything hurts and nothing helps.

Your two lovers just hold you through it, letting you get out as much as you need, before they sit you up and Billy wipes you down with the wet cloth, and Stu gets you to drink the entire water bottle Billy brought to get you hydrated.

Stu holds you again as Billy gets the bed ready, and they pull you under the sheets as they cuddle up on either side of you, keeping you between them as they hold you close.

Because sure, they find your anger hot, but they hate how much pain it causes you. Cue lots of sweet cuddles and kisses from both, but the kisses are mostly from Stu as Billy mumbles all kinds of praise and compliments into your ear from behind.

I could imagine them also massaging your arms because of how hard you strained them, and their combined love and attention makes the anger lessen. It doesn’t go away, it never does, but it’s enough to knock you out.

The hours of working out, a week full of stress, and dehydration quickly knocks you out, putting you to sleep between Billy and Stu as they just hold you.

They know they cant make your problems go away, even though they wish they could, but they will stay by your side the entire way, and will never let you struggle alone.

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sprout-fics · 7 months

Text

Whumptober Day Four: Shock

(Captain John Price x GN! Reader)

(Whumptober Masterlist TBA)

Rating: PG-13 Wordcount: 1.2k Tags: Blood/Injury, Whump, Established Relationship, Near Death Experiences, Hurt/Comfort, Shock, Blood Loss, Medical Inaccuracies Likely Warnings: Explicit Mention of Injury/Gore

The world is still ringing in your ears when you open your eyes. The searing, scorching Uzbekistan sun burns against the inside of your eyelids, and you try to raise a hand to blot out the brightness, only to discover a horrible, aching heaviness that weighs it down. There’s noise all around you, gunfire, distant explosions that shake the earth, and in your mouth you taste dirt, grit, smoke, iron.

A voice breaks through the fog, and you dazedly turn your head towards it, body too heavy, senses desperately trying to clear. It’s familiar, you think, and as you search for the moments before this, the voice of your captain thunders through your thoughts and robs you of all remaining bewilderment.

“GET DOWN!!”

The whistle of an incoming mortar, your hands stretching as they shoved him clear, the thud against your senses that paved the way to darkness.

You lift your head now that you're awake, and it takes almost all your strength to do so. Gaze turning, your focus on your arm, take in the mangled, horrible mess of your flesh laden with shrapnel. Red oozes out along your side, decorates your uniform in sickening scarlet.

It’s only then that the pain sets in.

You scream at the sudden whiplash of it, voice garbled with your confusion and fear. There’s a horrible, icy wash across your limbs, one that feels so at war with the afternoon summer heat above you.

A hand seizes your vest strap, and you choke out a sobbing, broken cry as you’re dragged through the dirt, leaving an abstract smear behind your mangled arm.

“Stay with me, soldier!” A voice above you bellows, and you try to crane your head to see him, your captain. There’s a veil of dust and smoke that shields him, but it parts for just a moment so you can see his face. There, you see the tight draw of his brow, the thin line of his mouth, and the glint in his eyes that speaks of fury, fear.

The pain is blinding, and you feel tears already threaten to overfill your gaze, trapping Price behind a watery filter that obscures his expression of dread. Your free arm reaches up to grasp at his sleeve, further anchoring you as he drags you through the dirt and sand to behind a small rise that shelters you from the ongoing battle.

There’s a broken sort of whimper that bubbles up your throat when Price allows you to lay back flat on the ground- one that startles into a scream as he hoists your arms up into his lap.

“I know, I know, love.” He rasps, balancing your arm across his leg and hands working quickly to secure a tourniquet across your upper bicep. “We have to stop the bleeding. Try to stay still.”

How can you? It hurts. It hurts like nothing else you’ve ever experienced before. You can’t stand it, can’t stand the festering taste of iron, the horrific peirce of metal in your skin, the slow churning of your guts that rise quickly to the overwhelming agony of your arm being flayed open. The world spins dizzy around you, a luminous haze of sensation and color with only the face and voice of Price to keep you steady.

It’s so hot. The sun blazes down from the pale blue sky, seems to provide a nauseating imbalance to the chilled grip of primordial fear that seizes you at the sight of your own blood seeping gluttonously into the soil. There’s a tickle of memory in your mind at the sensation, at a mission to the Arctic circle aboard a U.S. submarine. You’d gotten seasick, and Price had stroked your spine as you emptied the contents of your stomach into one of the sub’s tiny toilets.

You tell him as much, or at least you think you do, lips moving but words slurred. Price snaps his attention to your, and your vision wavers to reveal the pinch of confusion across his face before his gaze sharpens suddenly. You see it for all a moment before you can no longer keep your eyes open, head lolling limply into the dirt.

A hand seizes your shoulder in a rough grip, and the shake he gives you is enough to clear the growing haze from your brain, make you realize how violently you’re shaking.

“Eyes OPEN.” He growls, dark and furious in a way that betrays his fear. You force your eyes open, and realize for the first time that Price looks pale.

“Talk to me, love.” He snaps at you as he works on your arm, reaching for the medkit in his pack.

“About?” You manage somehow, brow scrunching in confusion.

“Anything.” He replies gruffly. “You’re going into shock. You need to stay awake.”

Shock. That would explain a lot. It’s a dull realization hidden behind layers of pain and confusion. You try to fight your way through it, like trying to move against a riptide that tries to force you out to sea.

“I still haven’t seen that movie.” You try, biting down on a groan as Price jabs a morphine shot into your shoulder. “The one with the…the cheesy love story you hate.”

Price huffs, and you turn your head just a bit to see a tense, odd sort of smile that splays across his lips, under his beard.

“The one with the love triangle.” He tells you, shushes you when you yelp as he turns your arm over to inspect the other side. “And the bloke with the pub.”

“Y-yeah. That one.” You slur back, muscles tense as the morphine shot slowly works through you. It does nothing to quell the tremor in your limbs, and you wonder for a moment if it’s an earthquake, if somehow these mountains will tremble and crack down onto you both.

Your eyes shutter, the cool relief of morphine soothing your veins and making your head loll limply.

“Love. Love, look at me.”

Price’s bloody glove settles under your jaw, forces you to look at his face hovering above your own. His eyes mirror the pale blue sky above. You didn’t realize until now what a beautiful day it is.

“We’re going to get out of here.” He breathes to you. “We’re going to get out and I’m going to take you home. We’ll watch whatever you want. Anything. Just stay awake, yeah?”

It’s an anchor. A rope. A tether to hold fast to even as the world pulses with agony and a sickening, feverish haze. You hold to it, hold to him, to the image of falling asleep on his shoulder as the TV hums forgotten in the background.

You nod, and when it doesn’t feel like enough you force yourself to speak. “Yeah. Yeah, John. I’m awake. I’m with you.”

“There you go.” He smiles, and the tenderness in his eyes is so strangely departed from the ongoing firefight beyond you both.

He kisses you then, a small peck to your sweaty brow, and you force a wavering smile, hold fast to that too, in the midst of violence that colors both your lives.

#john price x reader #price x reader #john price x you #price x you #captain john price x reader

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luvtak · 1 month

Text

wanting, hhj x reader

✧ genre/tw extreme lying in the grass with hyune on his birthday, major yearning alert, really dangerous fluff i am so sorry, i love yous and maybe a few pet names, unedited<3

✧ w/c 784

✧ this is very quick and mainly just a word dump, but i hope you like it! some sweet for the sweetest boys birthday... how lovely the first bit of spring comes with him

Sitting close this close to him you can smell the sunscreen mixing with his sweet cologne– the scent of warm weather days; springs and summers spent laying together just like this… glowing underneath the sun like two sleepy cats. It’s funny to think that you’ve laid this way a hundred times in a hundred different ways, yet the novelty never wears. His long fingers swiping their way down your arm, reaching around your wrist and holding tightly. This close he can feel your heartbeat all around him, your chest pressed right into his and the rapid thump coming from his hold around your bracelet. Even after all this time, you still get so nervous being with him, the familiarity of his love swirling in your chest and your stomach–creating shaky hands and warm cheeks.

Hyunjin’s eyes are peering down at you, striking you down with the strength of it. He’s so happy, springtime brightening his complexion with the shiniest smile you’ve ever seen, happiness leaping off of him. The warm blush settling along his cheekbones, the same color of the blossoms above you, creates a brilliant desire to heat up in you. Not a physical desire, not the disastrous need of nights past, but a fire of want… days spent waking up together and kissing goodnight, pictures and paintings, shared nightstand novels.

It’s ridiculous, you have him already– your hearts are tied together with twine; shared myocardium morphing into one beautiful beating thing– yet you don’t think you could ever stop yourself from wanting more. That wishing ache for him to be with you, too see him like a mirror to your own soul.

He told you once that being with you was like a shower of cold mist on a hot day. You remember laughing, giggling at the unexpected confession for an early morning, but you see now. This unexpected pain for loving and needing and wanting someone so much, the biting incredulity of seeing someone.

This close, both can see the evidence of the human condition wearing on each others faces, but Hyunjin has never been fonder of sun scars or smile lines–he loves you and he tells you with the blossomed trees as his witnesses.

“I love you too, Hyune.” you say, quietly though you’re alone, and his grin is a lesson in heartbreak; so lovely, like a supernova.

He never thought he could love springtime so much, had always been accustomed to fall and the icy cold weather of winter, but lying here with you he thinks spring might be his favorite. Seeing you and the flowers alight into living breathing blooms takes his breath away, makes him reach for his pencils and his paints. In the week alone he’s amassed several pictures of you, all beautiful, but none right. It’s the only reason he resents his love for you, so big and blinding, that no matter how exact the portrait is, it’s still missing that fundamental gleam you hold.

“When we get home, can I paint you again?” The question while posed so sweetly makes you groan, if it wasn’t his birthday there’d be no way you’d sit for him another time. And yet, you can’t deny how special he is–the only thing he wanted today was to spend it with you, cake and presents optional.

It’s this magic that makes you agree, and you can’t deny the excitement of seeing him work. Ever focused and hard working, Hyunjin’s world stopping even while in messy clothes and tied up hair. Seeing him paint made you fall in love with him; the sight of his color covered hands and his clear gaze over his canvas, looking over at you to smile… god you were doomed for him then.

His stare turns to the clouds now, smile still lilting as he speaks, “i’m painting you right now actually,”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes in my head I look at you, and I feel the need for a pencil or a brush. I see what colors I would use, how I would blend them together to get the exact shade for your eyes… I’m doing it now.”

It’s such a Hyunjin thing to say, yet the truth of it shocks you–what a beautiful boy he is, a rare and lovely find. Grinning like he knows he’s wooing you, staring up at the maya blue sky and painting a picture in his head.

“I really do love you, Hyune.” you tell him, and the strength of it turns his head. Lighting his eyes with a fondness made for spring, rising slightly to settle his lips over your forehead before replying earnestly with every bit of truth in his heart,

“I love you too.”

#hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #skz #stray kids #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines

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uvuyai · 2 months

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ძᥲᥡ 1 ~ 𝐿𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒 [EVENT]

Transfem! Furina x FEM! Reader

–genre. smut, nsfw,

–tw. girl cock, description of furina's cock, breeding, slight perv furina, sub x dom trope, overstimulation, MINORS DNI, creampie, riding, teasing, groping, reader is the same height as her, blow job, ooc furina, tit play, im sorry if you uncomfy with this,

–synopsis. Since Valentine's Day is around the corner, you called Furina in as you wanted to give her a good surprise. She wasn't expecting this.

Mari/yai's message – I've been thinking about an idea like this for a while.

Furina was patiently waiting on the duvet covered bed as you told her to meet her there. She had your favorite flowers, favorite chocolate, and a little teddy bear in her trembling hands. She could feel sweat dripping down her face and she barely could keep her excitement down.

Her foot tapped impatiently on the floor. She kind of spoiled half of the suprise for her. She asked if you got her something amongst chocolate or a teddy bear.

She heard a turning of a door knob come from the bathroom within the room

She turned her gaze towards the door, hoping it was you. And she was right. “A-ah, hey baby!” she waved at you with her eyes closed and a trembling smile. She opened her eyes to see you covered in a silky black (slightly) see through robe with fluff at the hem of it and at the end of the sleeves. Her face a really red by now. If you look closely, you can see her eyes turn into a black and white hypno circle but it didn't move.

You walked over to her with a blank expression lining your face.

You sat close to her, your thighs nearly touching. Both of her legs were trembling too much that it's visible to you now. You placed a hand on her thigh, sliding up and down with your index a ending up at her crotch.

A bulge began to rise on her shorts. A surprisingly big one. “I see you've gotten me something, hm?” you tilted you head and looked at Furina as she frantically looked somewhere else than your face. “Yes, y-yes. H-here!” she gulped and pushed the chocolate box with a brand on it(which were your favorite) towards, your favorite flowers, and a brown teddy bear. you carefully took them and placed them on the nightstand.

“I have that for you too Furi, but I have something extra to give” you places your index finger under her chin which made her immediately lock eye contact with you. “You are really quiet today Furi, what's wrong?” you showed sympathy but in a teasing way that made you voice a bit pitcher.

“Hm? Do you want this?” you dropped your robe to reveal a black lingerie set as if it was meant to be as a sleepwear. It had laced cloth around the bra part of it that it covered right above your thighs but it was see through.

Furina felt as if she was in heaven. She was slightly leaning back and her hands were grasping the covers with a harsh grip and if she had enough strength she could rip them off. “You want to touch me? Come on.” you opened your arms up to her. She quickly went into your arms, burying her burning face in your shoulder. Her bulge was poking at your thigh and it was

Her face was drenched in sweat. Her trembling hands reached down to your ass. You placed your arms around her neck, giving her a warming smile.

Furina noticed your breasts were slipping out of your top. She face planted herself between them which startled you. “Okay Furina calm down, now let me pamper you instead.” you pointed towards the bed(you both were standing fyi) and she obeyed.

You climbed on top of her, straddling her waist. “You should wear less clothing, Furi.” you slid your hand up and down her chest. Your hand went to her shorts, unhooking the button and pulling the zipper down. You slid her underwear down and her dick popped up.

It was an ocean blue color with dark blue line streaks leading up to her pelvis. It was a good tone to her skin. The tip was the same colors as the line streaks. A white bead of precum was at the slit of the tip.

You let out a heartly chuckle and moved down to where her cock was lining up your face. You placed your lips on the tip of her cock and slowly let it seep in until it reaches the back of your throat.

You bobbed your head up and down at a fast but simple pace. Furina clenched her teeth together as she grabbed strands of your hair.

You moved faster as you felt her dick pulsing in your mouth. She came with a loud whine and groan that anyone walking outside the door could hear. You felt thick ropes of cum hit the back of your throat. She was twitching too much now.

You climbed back on top of her to which she let out a gasp too. You slowly sank down onto her thick cock. You moved your panties to the side then sat in front of her dick so it was touching your pussy. It's been a while since you last did it before. Both of your faces were burning. Her moans were getting loud by the second. You closed your eyes as you gave into pleasure.

Whimpers and moans were stuck in Furina's throat. You moved at a simple pace as you bounced on her cock. You leaned your head back and placed your hands on Furina's knees(which were behind you).

Her dick was webbed in your juices. If it wasn't for your closed eyes, you would've seen hearts in her eyes bouncing. Your pussy was just so good for her, she wishes she could spend hours rather than doing her duties.

She wanted to take charge and make you moan louder. She rose up with her trembling arms and grabbed at your waist. Her nails dig into your waist so hard that it left crescent marks. You opened your eyes and looked at her with a startled gasp. Her left hand wrapped around your waist while her right hand took the straps of the bra off your shoulder, revealing your perky breast.

Beads of sweat dripped down your chest. She immediately latched onto your tits. The arm around your waist makes you bounce on her cock faster. She wanted to hear your moans louder now.

Her dick hit your cervix harder now. It's surprising that a short girl like her has a size like that. But hey, size doesn't matter.

“I-i'm gonna come–!” her breaths got harsher. And so as yours. You came on her dick as it sent volts of electricity run through your core. Thick ropes a milky white cum went flying in your insides.

You both were a panting mess as she fell back on the bed. You leaned down and unbuttoned her clothes, revealing her chest. She gasps as you look at her with lust.

“Let's go further Furi, it's Valentine's Day in fact~”

#𓆩ri.𓆪 #[ ♪o(〃＾▽＾〃)o♪ ]#✉️.txt #✎ suggestive 𓆪 #𓆩!smutty.𓆪 #𓆩ri.txt📝𓆪 #furina smut #furina x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #tranfem character #✎ characters from other clubs #tw:girlcock

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cuubism · 2 months

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physical therapy part 4

It takes some time, but finally, Dream's hand starts to feel better when he's painting. Granted, his grip strength still needs some work, and he's had to adjust the way he holds a brush to accommodate the lingering stiffness he gets in some of his fingers, but he's finding it hard to care when a few months ago he couldn't draw a straight line without it turning into a scribble. He'd known Hob was good at his job, but it still feels like a miracle.

The only downside is that once he makes enough progress Hob will surely decide to end their sessions. And while he had said that he liked Dream, that he cared about Dream... Dream is finding it hard to feel assured of those feelings. Someone's feelings can change on a dime, and it's impossible to predict.

But finally the day does come when Hob deems him progressed enough to simply continue his exercises at home. "At this point I think you've regained enough mobility that it's just a matter of gradually increasing how much you're using your hand," he says. "You've made a ton of progress."

"Have I?" Dream is less sure. Some things are certainly easier now, like doing tasks around the house, and picking things up. Art is another matter. Though perhaps he is simply making excuses because he doesn't want to stop seeing Hob.

"Yeah, look." Hob pulls out a folder from amongst his files, and shows Dream several sketches--the ones Dream's made in session, which he's apparently kept. Dream picks up the oldest sketch, the cats he'd doodled at his first appointment. They're shaky and uneven, like something he might have drawn when he was barely four. He supposes he can't deny the progress since then. He's torn between wanting to tear the drawing up, for it's too wretched a reminder--and wanting to hold it close to his chest.

"It's not that I think there's no more room for improvement, or anything," Hob says. "I just don't think continuing these frequent sessions is going to offer more than a marginal benefit."

Dream thinks that the benefit he is receiving at this point is more in being able to look forward to seeing Hob each week, than the physical therapy itself. He needs something to look forward to. He's put Hob's objectively terrible finger painting on his fridge. It's still the only spot of color in his empty flat. He needs that.

"So," Hob continues, "I thought I'd take you out to celebrate."

That pulls Dream from his head. "You... will?"

Hob winks at him. "Promised you, didn't I?"

Yes. Dream supposes he had promised that if Dream's feelings held true Hob would act on them. Is that what he's doing? Dream's growing disappointment swiftly morphs into something else. Hope.

"I--" he swallows hard. "I. Would like that." It's still strange, to have something he wants. And to feel like it may be okay to express it.

"Perfect." Hob grins, gets up, holds out a hand.

"Now?"

"You got somewhere else to be?"

Dream never has anywhere else to be, and doubts he would go there if he did. He takes Hob's hand.

Hob takes him to a Chinese restaurant nearby, and Dream looks at him suspiciously as Hob passes him a pair of chopsticks with a cheeky grin. "Now you are just testing me."

"Yup. 'Course if you can't use chopsticks in the first place then it's moot."

Dream can use chopsticks. Could. No, can. Death would say that he should think positively.

So he takes the chopsticks.

Once their food comes, Hob, the absolute bastard, puts down his own chopsticks and picks up a fork instead. And Dream knows, somehow he just knows, that it's not because he can't use them. He's teasing Dream. Or perhaps ensuring that Dream won't compare himself if he struggles. Or both.

He should feel hurt by the teasing but... somehow he's not.

"See?" Hob says when Dream manages to eat his noodles with the chopsticks. It's... not that hard. It doesn't even hurt. Maybe Hob is better at his job than Dream even thought.

It makes him tear up. Such a silly, small thing to start crying over when he's barely cried at all, even when he'd first hurt his hand.

"Hey, it's okay," Hob soothes him, wiping away Dream's tears with his thumb. "I think the noodles are salty enough without the addition of tears, hm?"

Dream laughs, wiping at his eyes when the tears keep falling. "Good tears," he manages to say.

"I know," Hob says, and smiles at him.

Dream surprises himself by having an actually nice time. He hasn't had a nice time doing something in so long. It feels good. He doesn't want it to end.

Of course, it does end, and he finds himself lingering outside the restaurant, hesitant to go home. Particularly as he no longer has a set time when he will see Hob. He feels aimless without that, but. It is hard to ask.

"Dream..." Hob starts, likewise lingering in front of the restaurant. The lights of the signage above cast his face in shades of violet. Dream has thought him handsome before, but never so much as now.

Hob hesitates over what to say, then finally just steps over to him. "Come here."

And before Dream can decide how to react, Hob folds him into a hug.

Dream goes still on instinct. Then, gradually, relaxes into Hob's strong hold. He... can't remember the last time someone hugged him.

He lets himself tuck his face into Hob's shoulder.

"Hey," Hob says. His voice is so close to Dream's ear now. "I'm proud of you."

Dream hears himself make a tiny whimpering sound. He. He does not know how to be proud of himself. He thinks he would only be proud of himself if he could go back in time and stop himself from getting in that terrible relationship to begin with. But he does like how it sounds when Hob says it.

Hob gives him one more squeeze, then, disappointingly, releases him. "I almost forgot. I have something for you."

He digs around in his bag and comes back with a box that looks rather like art supplies of some kind. "It's modelling clay," he explains. "So you can play around and work on your hand without just doing, you know, boring exercises all the time."

Hob is too considerate of him, truly. Dream holds the box close.

"You okay to get home?" Hob asks, and Dream nods. His ex has not bothered him again, and Dream is now hopeful that he won't. Though that does not necessarily mean he doesn't want Hob to follow him home.

"Good," Hob says. Then, while Dream is still thinking about the hug and the clay and everything else, Hob leans in and kisses his cheek. "Goodnight, Dream."

Dream stands paralyzed until Hob is gone, and it's only then that he realizes he failed to set another time for them to meet. He supposes he does have Hob's office contact info. Still, it is disappointing not to have something to look forward to.

But when he gets home, and opens the box of clay, he finds a note inside. It has the name of a coffee shop, and Tuesday, 3pm?, and Hob's personal number. At first he's confused. Why wouldn't Hob simply ask him while they were together? And then he realizes that Hob must be trying to give him a chance to comfortably back out if he wants to by letting him decide in private. It makes him want to cry again. Hob truly is too considerate of him.

But he takes out his phone and types in Hob's number, and a simple reply. Yes.

#a singular chapter in which dream has a good time!#physical therapy fic #dreamling #my writing #bit of a time jump bc i dont think i have it in me to write one billion physical therapy sessions XD like they gotta kiss sometime #long post

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skunaskitten · 7 months

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Yakuza Husband ch1

Paring: sukuna x female reader

Contains: blood. flirting, threats, near death experience

Au: sukuna yukuza boss

Summary: After work you walked to you apartment but half way to your home you found a man injured. You decided to bring him home to stitch him up but what you did not realize of who he is.

It was a long day at work but you enjoyed it. Working at an animal shelter as a vet tech you love seeing the animals. You were happy that some of the animals in your care had gotten adopted today and sent to loving homes. You hoped to see them again old and happy.

When getting off the train and walking back to your apartment it was a quiet walk but something in the air felt off. As you neared your home there was a dog that caught your eye standing in the front of an alleyway.

"Hey there pup you alright?" You got closer to the dog but it went down the alleyway. A grunt left you but it was your duty to save it and bring it with you to get checked tomorrow when you go in. You followed it seeing it standing sniffing a figure sitting on the ground leaning up against the wall.

You froze and your body went stiff just as the dog ran past you back out the alley way. "Hey wait, don't go." You turned to watch the dog leave then hearing a cough coming from the person made you snap your attention back to the figure.

By the shape and size you could see the person is a male.

"Are you alright sir?"

You took out your phone shining the light on him and gasped seeing the red liquid covering his hand and all over his black shirt that looked wet and stained darker. Seeing the rip across the front of the shirt where it was more blood around the hand covering his stomach.

You crouched down to his level seeing a broken phone next to him. "I am going to call for help."

As you opened your phone to call for help his hand wrapped around your wrist stopping you.

"Don't call. Just. Leave."

His voice sounds deep and hoarse. "Do you have family or someone I can call?"

He lifted his face to look at you. As you caught a glimpse of the right side of his face. Burised and eye swollen with a busted lip. You couldn't just leave him here. He watched you open up your backpack pulling out a sweater and placing it over his stomach.

"Here keep this against the wound. I am going to bring you to my place. Do you think you can walk?"

He grunted, saying "just leave me."

You sighed and took his bloody hand not caring if you got blood on yourself. He is in need and wounded just like animals you could not walk away from a person in his condition.

You tried to pull him to you to get him up all he did was gave a deep chuckle. It sent chills through you as he tried to step up, almost falling over letting out a groan of pain. He looked like he had enough strength to walk but you still stayed by his side under his heavy arm for support. Even if it did very little and it was all him doing the work.

It was a long slow walk to your home but when you made it inside he saw that he was safe inside he just wanted to collapse. You felt him growing weak as you panic and quickly brought him to the couch pushing him down onto it. He let out a loud groan of pain.

"Sorry. Stay here. Don't move."

You ran into the bathroom grabbing all the medical supplies you needed and came back out to the living room placing the supplies on a coffee table. As you displayed the stuff you needed you leaned over him getting a good look at his face. Seeing the black lined tattoos along his jaw leading up to eyes under his real ones giving the same color and the messy dirt stained pastel pink hair.

His one open dark red eye looking straight through your soul. You gulped and tried to ignore it as you reached shaky hands to unbutton his shirt.

"I need to take this off." You grabbed the shirt opening it up as he laid his head to the side. "Hey I need you to stay awake."

"Just hurry up, and do it." He snapped at you.

You ignored him but when you opened his shirt you saw the colored tattoos covering his entire chest. You noticed black sharp lines across his pecs. Around those lines were blue and purple flames with wine colored demonic looking fingers. Ten of them on each slab of muscle. Your eyes trailed across his chest to his shoulders noticing more ink being hidden under the sleeves of his shirt.

When your eyes trailed down you saw the open wound across his stomach right above his navel. Your mind went into emergency mode and started to assemble the cotton pad to clean up the area of his skin.

After everything was clean the wound seemed like it was not to deep where you needed to take him to the hospital. You ran into the kitchen to wash the blood off your hands and grabbed a ice pack from the freezer to bring it over to him.

"Here this will help with your face. What is your name?"

You asked as you carefully placed the ice pack against his face making him rest on it. He kept his eyes closed saying "sukuna."

His voice sounded worse, more drained and groggy. You had to do this fast so he can rest. You gave a slight smile to his name. It's different and interesting. "My name is y/n."

You went back to the supplies and started to thread the needle then came back to his wound. "This might hurt."

"I can, take it."

When you punctured his skin he grunted and nuzzled his face into the ice pack. It was a quick 15 minute stitch up but it felt longer. You gave one last clean up to his wound, putting antibiotics and a patch to cover it up.

You smiled saying ,"there it should be good for now. Just not moving for a while you will break it."

He didn't answer then you looked to see he was already asleep. It was best to let him rest and check on him in the morning. After cleaning up the mess, you went through the hall way storage closet and pulled out a blanket to put over him.

You stared at his face a bit longer seeing how strange it was for him to look so peaceful sleeping with blood on his face. And why the color of his hair being pink?

After seeing the tattoos across his chest you wanted to see the rest of them. Already having the feeling he is a man who likes to get into trouble.

You felt your stomach ache and hearing it rumble it was past your dinner time since you usually eat when you get home but he had to be taken care of first. You made a quick ramen bowl and checked on sukuna every minute just to make sure he is still alive.

When you went to bed you made sure to lock your door in case something happens since he is still a stranger. You had already informed your boss that you couldn't make it due to a family emergency. So this gives you time to look after sukuna.

In the morning you got up getting dressed and quietly opened your door peaking your head out to hear anything. There was no movement so you stepped out carefully and walked out to the living still seeing him asleep.

You walked over to his sleeping form then pressed the back of your hand to his forehead checking the temperature. He felt warmer than he did last night.

Looking at the ice pack that is fully melted you pulled it out from under his head then softly ran your thumb over the bruising on his face. You had also noticed the black piercings on his ears.

You took a deep breath and caught a smell of the blood that still stained his clothes. He didn't smell the best right now. You wanted to almost take off the shirt but it was going to be difficult, it would be best to start by replacing the bandage again since either absorbed most of the blood.

As you pulled off the blanket and started with the bandage from his stomach he jolted awake and grabbed your wrist with a harsh squeeze. You yelp from being startled but then he let you go placing his hand over his stomach with a growl and a grunt from pain.

"Damn it sukuna it's just me. Don't break your stitching."

You put a hand down on his chest and pushed him back down. He looked at you with still tired drained eyes, it looked like he wanted to talk back but he was still not fully recovered.

Sukuna kept his eyes on you changing the bandage then saw you grabbing at his shirt.

"I want to take your shirt off, it's full of your blood and dirt. It's starting to stink."

He groaned and let you take it off him with the help of him moving his body to make it easier for you to take it off. As you peeled off his shirt you could see more tattoos covering his arms. You couldn't help but to look at the artwork of beautiful colors and line work. Whoever did his tattoos did an amazing job.

His left arm was full of plant life. Cherry blossom trees that crept up his bicep around his forearm were red spider lilies and under them was a lotus. The other arm had an eastern dragon around the bicep and a tiger on the forearm. On both wrists he had black bands and black circles on the edge of his shoulders.

Your eyes gazed away and looked at his pants then back at him. "I uhh need to take off your pants too."

He gave you a weak smile and said "if you wanted my cock you could have just ask. It might help with my pain."

A blush filled your cheeks and you began to stutter. "No, that is not what I wanted. I need your pants off. They are dirty." He chuckle slightly and laid his head back as you went to unbuckle the front. Your hands were shaking after he made you all flustered and embarrassed but he lifted his hips to help you slide off his pants easier.

Sukuna quickly went back to sleep to get more rest. He was still feeling groggy. You put the blanket over him then went to get some cereal and hid in your room to give him some peace. When you came back out hours later you walked over to see sukuna with his eyes open. You gave him a smile and said "hey you awake now. How are you feeling?"

He said "I am feeling hungry and drained." You nodded asking "how hungry?"

"Hungry enough to eat you." He chuckled then started coughing.

You blushed and started to find words to respond to but then you stepped back hitting the table with the back of your knee. You stumbled a little and sukuna was quick to sit up and grab your wrist holding you from falling.

You made eye contact with him then pulled your wrist away saying "thank you I will go find you food."

Sukuna looked over at you watching you walk around the kitchen making what seemed to be a sandwich. He wondered if you knew who he really was. What were your plans with him?

When he saw you turn around with a plate he looked away. You made your way over to him and set a plate with the sandwich on it and handed it to him. "Here let me know if you need anything else and also brought you some tea that might help with the aches." He looked at the food and drink then back to you.

"Eat some of it. And take a drink."

You raised an eyebrow then looked at him confused saying "what?"

"You heard me sweetheart eat, drink."

You picked up the sandwich taking a bite looking at him still confused, after swallowing the bite you took a drink of the tea then looked at him. He sat up more and took the food and started to eat it. You just gave him another weird look and left him to eat alone. So many questions ran through your head.

Hearing your phone notification go off you looked at it to see your friend wondering if you are alright. You texted her 'yes I am fine just something happened and now I have to figure out what to do with him.' You messed up by saying the word to him and she quickly texted back. 'Oh you are seeing a guy. Who is he? What does he look like?'

'Pretty handsome. Pink hair. Tattoos covering his arms chest and possibly the back. I found him in a alleyway with a stab wound. I had to fix him up but he said to not call anyone.'

She answered back right away. 'What do you mean?! You found him and just brought him home with a stab wound. Red flag girl! And he has tattoos telling you not to call anyone. You know what they say about Japanese men with tattoos right. Yukuza!'

You scoffed at the idea and told her you were going to check backup on him and you will talk to her later. When you went back out to the living room you saw him sitting up fully on the couch with the empty plate and glass. "Do you want more?"

"No this should be good for now but I feel my energy back again for the most part."

Hearing his deep voice your eyes roamed over his body again then quickly looked away when you saw his eyes staring at you. You walked over taking the dishes from him then walked towards the kitchen but stopped curious to say something to him.

"Hey sukuna are you in the yukuza? My friend just stated it because I mentioned your tattoos and how I found you. I think it's crazy though. I don't think I would ever come across one. Your tattoos are lovely though." You let out a little giggle.

But then you felt the air in the room stir into something dangerous then you heard him darkly chuckle and a click sound coming from behind you. When you turned to look at him you dropped the dishes hearing them break and shatter across the floor.

Sukuna was standing up and had his back to you while looking at a black gun in his hand with a golden design through the side of it but you couldn't make out what it was. Your whole world froze and your heart stopped. His back was cover in a full art piece. A four arms demon with four eyes and pink hair. It was supposed to be resentation of himself crawling out of a mouth to a shrine with ox skulls on his lower back.

He turned around walking to you, opening up his gun looking at the bullets and slipped the clip back into it.

"You know one thing I hate about the people around me, little woman. Is that you can never let your guard down because you can not trust anyone. It's a shame that even the sweetest of things need to die."

You gulped freezing in place and began to tear up as he walked up straight to you. So much fear in your body makes you stay still only because you feel if you run he might shoot. He pressed the tip of the gun to your neck. Your eyes closed, a tear ran down your cheek waiting for him to take your life. Is this what you get from the world for helping someone?

A whimper escaped you as he chuckled and leaned in closer, pressing his lips to your ear. "No words for me, kitten."

"Your stitches are bleeding."

He raised an eyebrow and took a look down to his stomach. You took a look at him and made your chance to run but he was too fast and smart as he grabbed your arm pulling you. In the process you stepped on the shards of glass letting out a cry of pain.

"Where you think you are going little things."

He pulled you with him and pushed you onto the couch holding the gun up to you. You looked into his eyes as tears filled you, making your vision blurry and whimpers escaping you. "Will it hurt?"

Sukuna tiltled his head saying "the bullet? Only of I shoot in a spot that does not kill you fast."

You started to breathe hard with tears rolling down your cheeks. Staring into his eyes waiting for it to happen when he would be the last thing you see. His hand gripped onto your shoulder holding you down with the gun pressing under your jaw. You couldn't hold back any more and started to sob and cry louder. "S sukuna...." Feeling the cold metal tip of the gun against your skin you tried to plead with him.

He stared at you but his heart started to feel heavy, memories flashed before him. A woman on her knees before him with his hand around her throat and gun to her head. She pleaded to him crying and sobbing but he just pulled the trigger doing what he was told. Then hearing a baby cry. Remembering the little baby boy she had, he was left motherless.

Sukuna let go of your shoulder asking "do you have a child or pregnant?"

You shook your head still crying.

"Do you have a family?"

You shook your head. Still stuttering as you talked.

"I have… no one. I am alone… my parents both died. No lover.."

He pulled the gun away from your face and moved away. As soon as you felt him release you took that chance to crawl away from him seeing the blood from your foot staining the couch. But he still hovered around you then brought the gun up again to you saying "where is your phone? Bring it to me."

You did what you were told but you limped off the couch and walked slowly in pain to your room with him following you. He saw the phone on your bed and quickly took it holding it in his free hand.

You couldn't take it any more as you just got down on the floor and crawled back against the wall of your room. He watched as you cradled your legs turning yourself into a ball crying from fear trying to hide from him.

Sukuna let out a sigh. "Where the hell is your first aid kit?"

You didn't answer as you started to shake. So he asked again more stern tone to his voice.

"Where the fuck is your first aid kit? I am not asking again."

"In the bathroom."

You mumbled and heard him leave the room for a moment but you didn't bother moving from your position not wanting to get shot.

He walked into the bathroom and the first this he saw was his clothes. With a brush and hydrogen peroxide to remove the blood stains. You really went through all this trouble to bring him here into your home. A complete stranger and fixed him up. Made sure he was well, fed him and washed his pants.

He took the pants and put them on and slipped his gun in the back of them along with your phone into the pocket then found the kit. Sukuna came back to see you still in the same spot shaking but stopped crying for now.

When he crouched down in front of you and went to brush his fingers across your ankle you froze up and started to cry again. You looked at his lip quivering and tried to move away from him.

"Please don't hurt me. I won't tell anyone. Please just leave."

He gripped your leg and ran his hand up your calf and pulled your leg to him with your wounded foot. You whimpered in fear and tried to pull away. Thinking the worst.

"Dont please! I rather be dead."

He stopped and looked at you realizing why you were freaking out.

"Would you stop your fucking crying. I am not going to assault you if that is what you are implying. Let me look at your foot."

You covered your face trying to calm yourself as you let him take your leg extending it out. You hear the shuffling of the kit and feeling him move with your foot on his lap. But you didn't dare to move a muscle until he went to pull a piece of glass out. You let out a yelp and placed your hands flat on the floor.

"Quit being a child."

He continued to pull out the glass he could see then he poured on the rubbing alcohol across the wounds. You whimpered and tried to pull your foot away but he grabbed it, yanking it back. "Damn it, stop squirming!"

"It hurts and you are doing it wrong! Why are they even bothering with me?! Just leave me alone!"

Sukuna laid him head back and growled then looked back at you.

"A favor for a favor. You helped me so I am helping you. Besides, by my code you did save my life. So I am in your debt."

He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and closed his eyes.

"I am sorry. For threatening you. And scaring you. It's just hard for me to trust anyone. You probably know who I am now."

You just chewed on your inner cheek not wanting to talk as you suck in a breath trying to calm yourself but knowing he has a loaded weapon made you all the nervous to even say a word to him.

The both of you heard your phone chime. Sukuna reached behind him and pulled out your phone seeing the text in the lock screen 'is he hot?'

" Who is this little kitten?"

"My friend from work." He handed you over the phone saying "unlock it."

You then gave your phone back and he texted your friend back 'yes he is really hot don't worry he is taking care of me.' He texted her making it sound like it was you.

He closed it then stuck it back into his pocket hearing more notifications go off as you questioned what he did. But he ignored you and went back to tormenting your foot. After he cleaned the wound he wrapped a bandage around your foot and dropped your leg onto the floor.

"There its done."

You looked at the wrapping and said "thank you. So you are in the yukuza."

You rubbed your hand over your cheeks wiping what dry tears that remained as he hummed.

"Yes I am. I promise to not make any threats to you again. Like I said I am in your debt. Until my part is filled you will no longer see me again. But for now I need to stay here for a few days until I am fully healed and the ones who did this,stop looking for me."

"You want me to keep you here after you just did all that! No. I am sorry but no you need to leave."

Sukuna groaned and bowed his head as a sign of thanks to you saying "I am sorry, truly. I need to stay here. Just so you know I never say sorry to anyone."

You made eye contact with him debating if you should let him stay and if you were even safe.

"I can tell you are debating. You have my word. I won't hurt you."

You closed your eyes and let out a heavy sigh saying "fine I will let you stay. But its my home so my rules." He confirmed with a nod of his head and got up holding out his hand to you as you took it and got up onto your feet with us help.

You thanked him for finding your strength again but you still worried what he can do to you when the guard is down. Without another word you walked away from him with a limp as he followed behind you and watched you head to a hall closet pulling out another blanket.

"Here so you can be more comfortable. And I will figure out what to do with clothes for you later. I am going to bed."

He watched you walk away back into your room, slamming the door closed as he stood there holding the blanket. He never let anyone walk away from him like that, not without him having the last word in. But he will let you relax for the night. He needs his rest too.

what is going to happen between them?!

thank you so much for reading the first chapter! And i am so in love with the picture i can not stop gawking at sukuna.

ch1 Chapter 2

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #yakuza sukuna #yakuza husband #yakuza au

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plotsignificanthaircut555 · 14 days

Text

Bad First Impression

dealer! reader x first time stoner! Choso SMUT, 18+ MDNI

Choso makes a really bad first impression on you after catching you selling to his younger brother. When he finally apologizes, he reveals he has never gotten high. You two change that. and then....ya know....

8.9k words of pure filth. I wrote this because I was horny and high and reminiscing about my dealing days. support your local drug dealer. Enjoy. ao3

content warnings- SEX, drug use, subby choso, kind of in charge reader, choso has a tongue piercing because i made it up, riding, eating pussy, a lot of talk about spit, like a lot, also a lot of talking about smell, again its nasty (im kind of on my high horse about weed, sorry, )

You met Choso a few weeks back. The air was hot and thick inside of the long ranch house. Bodies packed together, music blaring, lights of all colors and strobe speeds dancing through the space. You had been invited by the party's hosts to help “supply” the partiers with anything and everything that could keep them going all night. You didn’t deal in anything that hard, mostly weed, mushrooms, you could get acid easily if it were requested of you, occasionally you helped distribute the stray gram or two of coke for nights like this. But you tried to cap your work in hard drugs there. That night you were only holding ten or so pre rolls, and a quarter of unground flower, ready to help any first timers learn the process of smoking all the way from the beginning. You had already sold the single gram of coke you had been asked to bring with you, mostly to the wilder of the pair, who was currently grinding so hard with his boyfriend, the other host, that you were beginning to worry they’d lose their clothes soon. A few other lines had gone out earlier in the night, their users sweating away on the dance floor in front of you. You didn’t partake yourself, but you enjoyed seeing the results of your labor in their smiling, energized faces.

You kept to the side for now, sipping a warm light beer out of a flimsy solo cup. A hand tapped your shoulder and you turned to face a fresh faced girl with a cute auburn bob.

“Hey you’re the …..dealer….?” She kept her voice low when she uttered the street name of your profession

You matched her hushed whisper, “yeah. But you don’t have to whisper. Everyone here is already pretty fucked up. Anyone undercover would certainly have incriminated themselves.”

You were intending to make her laugh and put her at ease but she looked a bit panicked, smiling wryly with big wild eyes.

“I’m joking, babe.” You smiled at her, “what do you need?”

She giggled a bit, exhaling her anxiety, “I was hoping you had some more pre rolls for my friends and I?”

She gestured behind her to a pink haired guy and a taller black haired guy standing off to the side. The two of them were watching her nervously, but trying to remain cool, turning away quickly when you looked, one of them even whistling to convey his faux nonchalance. These kids are freshmen for sure.

“Sure.”, you nodded at her friends and at her before opening your bag and pulling the jar of pre rolls you kept sealed, for maximum freshness.

You picked through them briefly, “how many do y’all want? Are you guys pretty heavy smokers or still getting the hang of it?”

“We’ll-uh— I guess just whatever you smoke? I’m sure that’s good.” She shrugged, clueless.

No chance they could take what you take.

You pulled two of your lowest level strains. These kids were for sure just figuring out what they liked and you didn’t want them greening out in the middle of the party. Both because you had your own memories of over serving yourself and spending the subsequent eighteen hours truly and utterly miserable and you didn’t want to potentially cheat yourself out of three eager new customers.

“Why don’t you start with this, I’ll give you the second one as a freebie for your first time. it’s Zelato, mid strength hybrid strain, you won’t be too up but you won’t be couch-locked either. I think you guys will like it. If you do, you come back and see me, okay?”, you offered her the two pretty pink pre rolls along with your contact info and she gave you a clean crisp bill in exchange before fluttering back to her friends.

You watched the trio excitedly hurry out to the backyard, like kids on Christmas wanting to play with a shiny new toy fresh out of the box. You liked the job, you enjoyed gathering more and more knowledge about strains and terpenes and sharing what you had learned with your customers. Patients felt like a better term, but it also felt a bit self congratulatory. But it felt true, you loved how natural weed was, it made you feel more like a botanist or a healer than a pharmacist. Still helping people manage anxiety, pain, depression, or just to have a fun night and relax, but without all the side effects and the regulation.

You hoped she and her friends would call on you again. They seemed nice and like they could use someone like you. Especially if they were already experimenting with drugs and partying, it helps to have a dealer you can trust. One that isn’t just wanting to make money, but wanting to educate as well.

You were considering heading outside to smoke a joint of your own, a treat after a job well done. You would probably bail soon, the party seemed to be declining from its apex, and soon your services would no longer be needed. Before you could turn to head to the back yard you felt a strong hand clap around your shoulder. This was so different from the timid shoulder tap of your earlier customer, it almost made you laugh. You didn’t laugh, however, at the grip that stayed on your shoulder, pale knuckles clasped tight around your bone.

You followed the hand up the arm and finally turned to face your assailant. Dark, angry eyes ringed with smudgy purple eyeshadow met yours. A large black bar was tattooed across the bridge of his nose, in the dim, colored party lights you thought it almost looked red. His dark hair was messily tied up in two knots on either side of his head, you thought you could see piercings up along the sides of his ears and he was irate, staring right into your eyes, his lips were moving but you were so stunned and the music was already so loud, you couldn’t hear what he said. You found yourself opting to watch his mouth move for a moment, admiring the fullness of his lips, and the wicked snarl they held.

He was hot. Like really hot. But who the fuck did he think he was grabbing you like this?

You came back to your senses and smacked at his wrist, “back off, dude.”

“Did you sell drugs to my little brother?” He repeated, and this time you heard him. His voice was rough and low, he didn’t release your arm, instead gripping tighter.

“I don’t know who your brother is, I don’t know who you are. Get your fucking hand off of me, asshole.” You gripped his wrist tight and tried to pull it from you. Your touch was like nothing to him, this guy was strong.

He didn’t let up, gesturing behind him with his other hand to the pink haired boy from earlier, red faced with embarrassment,“The fucking kid that you sold drugs to. He’s not even twenty and you’re trying to dope him up?”

“Dope him up? What are you, ninety? Get the fuck off of me” Finally you pulled his hand off of you and pushed him back, hard.

“He’s still a kid, he doesn’t need your shit. Stay away from him.”

He had stepped too far by insulting your craft.

“I never even spoke to your brother, his friend is the one who bought it. Take it up with them if you have a fucking problem.”

The boy, the brother you now knew, and his two friends rushed up, trying to deescalate the quickly rising situation. People around you were starting to take notice.

“Choso, come on relax, we were just experimenting a little. It’s not anything crazy! Everyone smokes weed in college!” Little Brother tried to laugh off the stakes of the situation but his trembling voice betrayed him.

The man in front of you hadn’t stopped glaring at you, he seemed to be calming down a bit, but you could practically hear his blood boiling.

“Yuji, I told you not to come here. You’re here to study, not to mess around and get high.” He barked at his younger brother, who seemed to crumple lightly.

You were seeing an opportunity for a somewhat graceful exit so you started to withdraw, “sounds like this is a family affair, so I’m gonna head. Fuck you, don’t grab random women you don’t know. Kid, your friend has my card if your cop brother decides to let up.”

With your last comment you glared back at the older brother, before turning and leaving the party, Choso seething in your wake, anger now directed at the trio instead of you.

You figured that would be the end of it. That asshole ruining your night and probably never getting another sale out of those three. It was a week later that you got a message from the girl, Nobara, who you had spoken to. She wanted to buy again and you set up a date with her to come by your place and pick up from you. She seemed apologetic in her texts, but you couldn’t blame the girl, you were just thankful she reached out again.

It wasn’t until you opened the door that you realized why she had sounded so sorry. Swinging open your front door you were met with the same asshole who had been bouncing around in your mind making you furious again and again, it was a set up.

“Fuck off.” You slammed the door in his face, locking it loudly.

He knocked before speaking through the thick wood of the door, “I’m here to apologize.”

Yeah, right.

“Don’t care. You can go.” You were already retreating from the door, pissed that not only did you have to see this clown again, but you wouldn’t be getting the money from the deal you had lined up.

“Please let me apologize. I was way out of line. Yuji asked me to come here. Yuji’s my brother, from the party, please I want to apologize.” His voice came muffled from the other side of the thick wooden front door.

He sounded…..desperate. Embarrassed, maybe even ashamed. It wasn’t okay that he grabbed you, yelling at you without even knowing what had happened, but you couldn’t help but think he sounded genuine.

Kicking yourself already, you unlocked the door and opened it. He looked pitiful; big, brown eyes that once were so angry, now turned down giving him the look of a hurt dog. You could see now, in the light, that he had dark bags under his eyes as well, he looked like he had barely slept. His hair was down instead of pulled up like the other night, it hung in loose waves, stopping right at his shoulders. The black tattoo across his face was somehow less threatening, it looked almost like a bandage. The makeup from the other night was present again but softer somehow. You should have been so mad, you should have yelled at him for putting his hands on you and demeaning your work. But seeing him like this, you couldn’t help feeling bad for him. You opened the door and he looked down at you. He was taller than you remembered, a head or so above you. You met his eyeline and leaned against your door frame, crossing your arms in an attempt to maintain your cold demeanor despite how quickly you were forgetting why you had been angry.

“I never went to college.” He blurted, your face must have betrayed your confusion because he elaborated, “I don’t really know how it’s supposed to work. I guess drugs and parties and whatever are part of it. I overreacted. I want to make sure Yuji has a future and a good one, he was the one who deserved to go to college and I didn’t want him to mess up his chance. But that’s not fair. He deserves to have the full experience and I can take that from him.” He huffed out the last part quickly.

You raised your eyebrows. His admission was wandering and full of half offerings that you could piece together to create a clear-ish picture of an older brother pushing his younger brother to try his best and remain undistracted. You could empathize with that, but it doesn’t give him a pass to put his hands on you.

“I told him not to go to that party, I know the guys who were throwing it and I don’t want them taking advantage of him. Yuji’s a really great kid and he’ll go out of his way for pretty much anyone, and I didn’t want to see him get involved with people who don’t care about him. So I went to the party to bring him home, but when I saw him and his friends smoking I figured they had already started working him over and I took it out of you instead of them. I should never have grabbed you like that, or spoken to you like that. I’m sorry.” The words spilled out of him like a boiling over pot, fast and bubbly, quickly falling back to a simmer once out.

Choso looked lighter, still hanging on anxiously at the prospect of forgiveness, but lighter after bearing part of his soul to you. His hands that had been clenched into fists at his sides now hung freely, shoulders dropping slightly with less tension pinning them back. You felt lighter too, clearly the other night had been a misstep, and he obviously felt terrible.

Now that you felt saited in your week old anger, you could finally allow yourself to acknowledge how hot he was. Your anger towards being harassed had distorted your memory of him, he was tall and toned. You would have guessed he was a swimmer or did some kind of daily work that kept him in such incredible shape. The T-shirt hanging loosely over him was cropped enough to end right at his hips, a small sliver of skin peeking out underneath. He wore a simple pair of dark jeans and boots, nearly identical to what he had been wearing at the party. In the daylight you could see he did have a few piercings in each ear, hoops through his earlobes, silver barbells riddling asymmetrically along each ear's cartilage. His nose was strong and structured, lips full and pouted. You had never seen a tattoo like his before, obstructive and obvious right across the bridge of his nose, pure blackout work.

God that had to hurt.

“Why didn’t you go to college?” You pried, resting the top of your head on the doorframe as you looked up at him.

He looked surprised but shrugged, tucking his hands into his pants pockets, “Families are….complicated, I guess. When our parents died, I wanted to be there to look out for Yuji. He was always special, if either of us deserved to have an education, he would have been the one to do something with it.”

You couldn’t help but feel moved. This guy had quite the sob story, dead parents, a younger brother he was the caretaker of, it was noble for him to have sacrificed his own aspirations to support those of his brother. You admired it. A silence settled in between the two of you, wind rustled the trees outside of your house, you could see the chill set over Choso, he had turned his gaze to the ground, jaw set, hands still in his pockets.

“You want to come inside?” You opened the door more, allowing him to see inside.

He cocked his head a bit at you. You couldn’t blame him, you had told him to fuck off the moment he got here, and now you were inviting him inside. Still confused he nodded finally and you moved aside to let him in. He stepped in tentatively, as he passed you you could smell something metallic and organic, like wood stain or metal grease. He stood awkwardly in front of your door as you closed it.

“The smell is kind of…intense in here.” He cleared his throat.

“Right, I’ve gone a little nose blind to it. I hope it doesn’t bother you too much. Would you like anything? Water, coffee, I don’t know if you like tea. I have some beer or something like that if you’re feeling like drinking at 2pm.” You offered, realizing you didn’t actually know why you had invited him inside. Sure, he had looked cold but really you didn’t want him to leave yet.

“Coffee, if you have it.” He perked up a bit.

“Always.” You walked over to your small kitchenette.

You lived in a one bedroom. It really should have been considered a studio, but technically your bedroom did have a door. The living area, entryway, and kitchen were basically all one large room. You had a brown couch along the wall next to the door facing the tv, an afghan blanket draped over the back, a low coffee table in the middle covered in various hobbies of yours: books, your bong, half done crafts. A two chair dining set sat mostly unused against the far window across from the front door, you never sat there unless you were working, you took nearly all your meals in front of the tv. A bad habit you knew you should avoid, but just couldn’t bring yourself to break.

Your bedroom was off to the left, with the bathroom attached behind the door. It was a pain to have guests over, knowing they would have to walk through your bedroom in order to use the restroom. But it was a good incentive to keep your room tidy! You were suddenly thankful your anger had fired you up to do some cleaning this week, grumbling to yourself while folding laundry, “another thing-s” and “if he fucking tries again-s” leaving you as your scrubbed the bathroom and made your bed.

Choso was still standing, watching you, hands in his pockets.

“You can sit down if you like,” you nodded towards the couch, pulling two mugs down from where they hung above your sink.

You heard the sounds of his clothes rustling, some jewelry jingling, and the creek of your old couch adjusting to new weight. You tried to stay focused on pouring the coffee, pulling some sugar packets from a small drawer beside your coffee maker.

“Black is fine for me.” He piped up from the couch, he was sitting so stiffly, hands folded in his lap, back straight, thighs rigid as if just his presence would break something.

You dressed your coffee how you liked and grabbed his black cup and brought them over to the coffee table, sitting next to him. You sipped your coffee, watching him take his time doing the same.

“So if you didn’t go to college…” you started carefully, “how do you know Geto and Gojo?”

“Geto and I used to work together. Before he went back to school. He’s not a bad guy, neither of them are.” Choso held his mug close to his lips, he was being so honest, you got the sense he struggled with hiding his feelings. Hence the temper.

“Earlier, when I said I didn’t want Yuji around them. It’s not about them. They’re fine guys. I just don’t want Yuji getting distracted.” His voice was even and firm, he really did sound like someone’s parent.

“I get that. Those two…they’re kind of their own breed. I know what you mean.” You leaned back a little on the couch, letting one leg cross over the other.

Gojo and Geto were intense, and they had a reputation for throwing wild parties and nearly getting kicked out every year. You let the camaraderie of shared secrets hang between the two of you before pressing further.

“So I take it you and Yuji had a talk about casual drug use?” You couldn’t help but smirk a little, taking a mental tally of the bong on the table, the joints rolled and packaged on your dining table, the bag of flower tucked beside your tv.

Choso let out a strangled laugh, clearly an unfamiliar sound for him, “yeah he uh…he kinda let me have it. I know I made an ass of myself, but I didn’t realize how much I had embarrassed him.”

You joined his laugh thinking of the smiley, awkward kid laying into his much more intense older brother.

Choso turned his body toward you, “look, it’s not you. It’s not even the drugs. I just don’t want him losing himself to anything before he has the chance to figure out who he is and what he wants. I don’t want him stuck with something when he’s just barely starting his life.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that left you. Quickly it progressed to a fit of laughter. Choso was not laughing, he was watching you laugh at him. Something serious that he had shared with you, a real fear and concern of his that you were now cackling at. You could see the hurt in his face start to give way to anger again, and you came down from your fit.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I get what you’re saying, but don’t you think you’re kind of overreacting. It’s just weed, he’s not shooting up in alleyways. He’s not dedicating his life to anything, he’s just relaxing and having a little fun with his friends.”

“It’s my job to make sure he stays focused and I don’t see how smoking is going to help him.” He crossed his arms, starting to get agitated.

“Seriously? A little weed, a big cup of coffee, and you feel like you could knock out all the work you’ve been putting off for weeks. It can help you get rid of all that noise in your head that makes little tasks feel big and scary. You know what I mean?” You were a little on your soapbox now, but when he shook his head silently it dawned on you.

“You’ve never tried it?” You marveled at him. He had to be 26 or 27, and he hadn’t tried it once?

He shrugged again, “I don't really have a lot of free time, I guess?”

You gasped happily, suddenly all the anger was erased under a new beautiful light of discovery.

“Choso, you have to try it. If anyone needs it, it’s you. All that responsibility, you’ve got to be stressed out, give yourself an hour or two to get away from it. You’ll love it.” You had moved onto your knees now, energy shooting up your body.

“I don’t know…”He was smiling despite himself, hesitation in his voice but excitement leading the charge.

“ If you try it, and really try it, right now and afterwards tell me you hate it, we can forget all about this and we’ll be square and I won’t sell to Yuji and his friends anymore.” You offered already thinking about whether a joint or glass would be better for him, “but if I’m right and you like it, I get a new customer and you get completely forgiven for the other night.”

Choso looked into your winde, eager eyes and felt his reservations melt, how could he say no.

“Okay. Just a little.” He agreed, finally cracking a smile onto that stern, beautiful face.

An hour later, one coughing fit from him attempting to use a bong, and half of a joint later, you and Choso sat side by side on your couch beautifully high. Smoke hung thick in the room, his head was leaned back against the back of your couch, his ropey neck on full display, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed again and again trying to wet his dry mouth.

You rested your head on your wrist, watching him grapple with the high for the first time. You had turned some music on, something low and vibey, just to keep up the ambience and avoid any paranoia brought on by old house noises or -god forbid- silence itself.

“Did you want some more water?” You offered, gesturing to his mostly full cup that he had kept forgetting about.

He sat up slowly, “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Leaning forward, he grabbed the cup and drank it down furiously, wayward droplets spilling out of the sides of his mouth. You watched closely as the little stream of water slipped between his lips, down the side of his chin, across the cut of his jaw, and down the column of his throat, passing the chain he wore and trailing underneath the neckline of his t-shirt. Your mind raced before you could catch it, you imagined how it would feel to slide your tongue up its wake, the cool water contrasting against his hot, flushed skin.

Quickly blinking away the fantasy, you saw he was looking back at you. He had been watching you, his dark brown eyes moving all over your face in an unreadable expression.

Could he read your mind? Could he tell how you had been imagining him?

He finally blinked and looked away, drawing in a breath and leaning forward to place the glass back on the coffee table, “Sorry.”

Before you could brush away the apology he continued.

“So how long have you been…..doing this?” he settled back down against the couch, the weed soothing any lingering nerves.

“A couple years, it's a good way to keep myself in school and avoid any debt. Plus you get to make your own hours, it's flexible.” You shrugged, “and, I don't know, I guess I like that it helps people. To have fun and relax or like, helping them just get through the day. I like that I can help people feel better.”

He looked surprised at you, and you shrugged again, feeling your face burn slightly.

“I get it's a dumb thing to say, and I know I'm really patting myself on the back here, but that's why I like it.” you pulled slightly at a loose thread on the hemline of the couch cushion underneath you, avoiding his gaze, avoiding his judgment.

“I dont think it's dumb. I know what you mean.” the sincerity in his voice was so simple, as though thinking anything else hadn't even crossed his mind, “I already feel more relaxed than I have in years. I didn’t know it was like this, so you helped me. I like that you want to help people.”

You smiled, you couldn't believe this was the same guy you had met so poorly the other night. He smiled back at you, a crooked, unpracticed smile that seemed as shocking to him as it was to you. You let the smoke linger between the two of you, both inside and outside.

“So obviously you know my job, but what is it you do?” you scooted a little closer on the couch.

He slumped a little, “a couple things, I do tattoos, piercings, that sort of thing..I’ve been working at an auto shop for the last few months, on days where I don't have appointments.”

“Do you do your own?” you asked, you had only seen the one across his bridge, you weren't sure if he had anymore.

“A few. I didn't do this one,” he gestures to his nose, “Not the one on my back, but a few others, yeah”

“Do you like it?”

“I do. I always liked to draw,” he stretched to scratch the back of his neck, “a buddy of mine let me into his shop a few years ago. I only started the car stuff when Yuji went to school, it's a good skill to know, helps me feel useful.” he shrugged, “I like working with my hands, it keeps me out of my head.”

“Are you in your head right now?” you asked, hoping being with you was relaxing him as much as the weed had.

“No.” He smiles just to himself, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, enjoying how clear and simple his usually racing mind felt, “I kind of forgot it's supposed to feel like this.”

You laughed a bit, “It can be.”

He laughed too, a calming, easy chuckle.

“I’m glad you came by today, Choso.” You said softly

“Me too. I know I said Yuji asked me too, but I wanted to come and apologize. I was out of line, the over protective big brother act is so lame, I know. We’re just…all each other has.”

He suddenly was struggling to find the right words, he didn’t usually talk this much. The drugs had made him chatty, you had made him relaxed. Choso realized he hadn’t been alone with a woman in months, going on a full year. He spent nearly all of his time working, rarely went out with his few friends, and almost never went out on dates. He hadn’t even thought of being interested in a woman in weeks, choosing to rely on himself whenever the rare sexual urge did arise. He wasn’t a man without libido, but he was usually so focused—stressed out— sex just kind of lost priority. But here, sitting next to you, nerves hazy, voices soft, it was quickly climbing back up his priority ladder. He hadn’t noticed the first night how beautiful your eyes were, now they were slightly lidded and sensual as they looked over him, pupils wide and hungry. Your lips were full and shapely, a little dry from the smoke, but your wet tongue would dart out occasionally to moisten them again. His neck grew hot thinking about how soft your tongue looked. He bet you tasted so good, the lingering taste of coffee and smoke in your mouth, sliding your soft tongue against his, running your skilled hands over his body. He had watched you rolling the joint earlier, it was so routine, so ritual for you, but it was so intricate. You had clearly perfected it, nimble fingers filling, rolling, and sealing the flower inside of the pretty pink paper. Looking at them now, he wanted to put them in his mouth, to suck on them, to feel them tangle in his hair while you rode him right here on your couch.

He thought he would burst into flame when your fingertips touched the top off his hand, derailing his perverse train of thought from continuing.

“Choso?” Your voice was so soft when you said his name, it sounded right coming out of your mouth. You liked the way the letters tasted, he liked the way your tongue slipped around each sound, directly into his ear.

“Thank you, for giving me another chance.” He said finally.

Neither of you were sure when or how, but you had become very close. You could smell the sting of tea tree oil on his skin, now identifiable, and see every little crack in his glossy lips. You were staring into his bottom lip, as if summoned he drew it in, whetting it before releasing it again. He could see you watching him, he was watching you right back, he could feel your hot breath against his face, he could smell your shampoo, he could see the small coffee stain on the corner of your mouth, he wanted to be the napkin or shirt sleeve you’d use to wipe it away. Before he realized it, he was leaning closer to your lips. Your heart raced as he came closer, you weren’t sure how you had gotten here, just minutes ago the conversation was so benign and so casual, and now there was this…heat… between the two of you. You watching his mouth, him watching yours, you felt the electricity in your body ignite. The fingers that had been on the back of his hand trembled slightly as he leaned forward. He was moving so slow, being so careful to not push you. You gripped his hand tightly and pulled him closer, connecting your lips.

Your eyes were closed tightly, or else you would have seen the way his flew open before rolling back in his head. The same hand that had first grabbed you a week ago now moved up your arm and up to your jaw, pulling your lips harder against his. His kisses were hungry and desperate, yours were just as fevered as you felt his spit combine with yours.You moaned, lips parting enough for him to slip his tongue inside of your mouth. To your shock and delight you felt a small metal ball slide against your tongue, his tongue was pierced. You shivered, already thinking of how that cold metal would feel along your body, across your nipples, flicking against your clit. You thought you might faint as he pulled you over his lap.

He was faring no better, his hand pulling at you desperately, your jaw, your hair, your waist, your back, anywhere he could reach. He felt clumsy and a little pathetic, but he was too desperate to care. You were so hot, you smelled so good, your lips were so soft, he couldn't stop himself if he wanted to. When you finally did pull away, needing to catch your breath, he followed your lips eagerly, opting to kiss your chin or the underside of your jaw instead.

“Choso” you whimpered, pulling lightly at the hair at the back of his neck.

He continued kissing along your neck, moaning happily at the feeling of your nails against his nape. The sun had set outside, leaving the two of you in warm lamp light, the amber auras setting the deep brown of his eyes ablaze as he gazed up at you. Once your breath returned he moved one hand over the side of your face and pulled you in for another, softer but still passionate kiss. You relaxed into him, moving your hands over his chest, feeling the taught muscle and pleasure heated skin.

“I want you to tell me what you like.” He muttered against your lips in the form of a lover's secret, “I want to make it up to you. I want to please you.”

You felt yourself start to drip at his words, so devoid of the ego you were so familiar with in other men. A fast learner, too, his hands were carefully tracking your reactions, already finding erogenous zones that you usually had to demonstrate, tongue matching pace with yours. Kissing him deeply, tongues tangling, saliva and moans losing their origins points in the mess of shared wetness, you rocked your hips against his. He jerked up, unwillingly, a long, throaty moan leaving his lips as he threw his head back against the back of the couch, his hands on your hips gripping tighter.

“Baby….fuck”, he was getting hard so fast just from kissing you, it was embarrassing.

“You feel so big, Choso.” You rocked against him more, grinding into his erection over and over.

He blushed, the bar on his face doing nothing to hide the deep red settling across his cheeks. Feeling emboldened by the effect you had on him, you pulled your shirt off, leaving you bare chested on top of him. He was awestruck at the sight of your nearly naked body, his shock only growing when you grabbed his hands and brought them up to your breasts,squeezing them through his hands.

“Touch me here, like this.” You showed him how you liked to be squeezed and groped, all while keeping up your gyration on his lap.

He followed your lead immediately, mouth watering at how your breasts moved in his hands as you moved. He wanted to put them in his mouth, he wanted you completely naked, his own clothes felt so stiff and tight now. Choso removed his hands from your chest in a flash to quickly remove his own shirt before putting his hands on you once again, groping and squeezing the mounds freely. You moaned both at the sight of him bare and at how well he was following your directions.

“Fuck Choso… you look so good.” You marveled at him through your heavy lashes.

He was so toned, so well cultivated. His body was like that of a swimmer or a rock climber, lean and muscled, clearly focusing on mobility and functional strength above vanity. Tattoos littered his body, classic things, sigils and birds and quotes you couldn't quite read. All in due time.

In a move surprising you he sat up, abdominals rippling, keeping one strong forearm around your waist to hold you firm against him and he brought one of your nipples into his mouth. Even the fatty flesh couldn't muffle the haughty moan that escaped him, nor could it hide the way his eyes rolled back in his head. Your hands pulled at his hair, bringing him as close as possible, letting loose mewls of pleasure at his sucking. His tongue piercing circled around your areola, teeth quickly following to bite lightly at the rising peak. His dark eyes, now almost entirely black from blown out pleasure, looked up at you. The pornographic display in front of you was enough to have you whimpering already, the feeling of him so solid and throbbing underneath your hips wasn't helping, or was it, you supposed it depends on the goal; Longevity or absolute pleasure. Choso moved his mouth over to your other breast, repeating the same routine of circling and biting and suckling, he was completely blissed out, barely registering anything beyond the taste of your skin and the weight of your body on his. When you pulled at his hair to get him to face you again, you had to pull harder than you expected to get his attention. When you finally did, his head tipped back dramatically, a drunken smile across his wet, swollen lips.

“Take your pants off,” you whimpered breathily, “please.”

You stood up in front of him, feeling a slight ache in your hip hinges from your previous position and quickly rid yourself of your pants. He did the same, removing his belt, and kicking his shoes off before pulling his jeans off and tossing them aside. You stood in front of each other, in only your panties, him in black boxer briefs, length straining against the fabric. Breathing hard, you took each other in, it was so simple, but so sexy to be just standing before each other nearly completely naked. Not touching, not distracted by embracing hands or mouths, just taking a moment to appreciate the unguarded form of one another.

He was so taken by you, the swell of your hips, the curved lines of your silhouette, scars and lines and tattoos adorning your skin in a completely unique and deeply personal pattern. He liked the panties you were wearing, he wanted to keep them, maybe you would let him. They were a dark purple mesh fabric, his favorite color. There was no way you could have known, but it felt like fate. Your neck was starting to show little bruises from his kisses earlier, soon they would be purple too, he couldn't wait to see. Finally, he stepped toward you, his strong hands finding yours, bringing them to his body just as you had earlier. Your hands followed down the lines of his body, the muscles so hard under your touch. He moaned at your touch, chills rocking through his body, he was so reactive for you, every twitch of your fingers being amplified through his body like an electric current.

“You want to stay out here, or do I get to see your bedroom?”

“I’m a little partial to riding you right here, what do you think?” you flirted up at him, pushing on his stomach lightly, he was practically drooling.

You had chosen his exact fantasy from earlier and once again he found himself thinking that it was impossible you could have known, but it had to be fate. He kissed your lips again, the fever from earlier returning as you pushed him back down onto the couch, following him closely to keep your lips connected. Before you could move to straddle him, he gripped your hips.

“Please. Wanna taste you first, please baby, please.” He begged. He sounded so good when he begged.

You weren't one to argue with someone asking so nicely, so you did as he asked, sitting where he had been earlier, loving the feeling of the warmth he had left behind embedded in the cushion. Choso moved between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs and pulling your panties away from your aching sex. He couldn't stop himself from bringing the panties to his face and taking in your scent, he didn't care if it made him a pervert, he loved the smell of a good, wet pussy, and yours may be the best he had ever had. Your jaw dropped at the unabashed display, catching his eye as he exhaled luxuriously.

“Fuuuuck, can I keep these?” It was like he was high all over again, one hit of you knocking him on his heels more than your highest testing strain ever could.

You nodded slowly, too shocked to speak. You didn't even care that you liked that pair, they were comfortable and sexy, nothing could compare to the thought of Choso keeping a pair of your used panties for himself.

He set them on top of his pants on the floor, before resuming his migration across the sensitive skin of your inner legs. You could feel yourself dripping onto the couch, you didn't care, you were too turned on to care about anything except him. Lying on his stomach on your couch, he was finally face to face with your bare pussy. He could feel himself starting to rut into the couch cushion, aching cock desperate for relief. Finally, with one last cautious look up at you, Choso slid his fore and middle fingers between your lower lips, separating them slightly to look right at your weeping folds. Even the light brush of his fingertips separating you had you ready to arch your back, you were so wet, his long tongue swiped up your slit, and a strangled gasp ripped itself from your throat.

One hand flew to his hair, struggling to decide if you wanted to push him away or pull him in deeper, opting to just pull. Choso was completely lost within you, your taste, your smell, the feeling of how wet you had gotten already, he wanted to drink up everything you had. He moaned into your dripping pussy as you pulled his hair harder, loud squelching and slurping sounds filled the room alongside your gasping, frantic moans of curses garbled with his name.

“You taste so good, baby,” he complimented, his round tongue piercing flicking so deliciously against your clit as he spoke, “I knew you would. Fuck, you’re too good to me.”

You could barely hear him. Too fixated on rocking your hips against his face, trying desperately to amplify the pleasure he was giving you. Choso kissed your pussy with long, flat tongued laps, his piercing circling your clit in a delicious rhythm that had you wailing. You had never been so thankful to live alone, one of your hands left his hair so you could bite hard on your knuckles, a foolish attempt to stifle your moans. Wisps of his bangs fell in his face, blocking you from his eyeline, he attempted to blow the strands out of his way, needing to see you struggle to quiet yourself. You were putting on such a beautiful show for him, panting and moaning above him, showing him exactly how good he was making you feel, he didn't want to miss a second of it. Breaking away only momentarily to brush his hair away from his face, only to have them fall back in their place, Choso huffed in frustration, his hot, irritated breath sending tingles across your slippery folds. You looked down at him, feeling him pull away briefly to pull a black hair tie from one wrist and hand it to you. Your instructions were clear as he dove back in, once again devouring you; you pulled his hair into a small bun, tying it quickly and returning your hand to cover your mouth. His own hands were clasped around your thighs, bringing them into his ears and diving in even further.

The lower half of his face, from top of nose to under his jaw, was shimmering, he was losing all sense of himself. He wanted to die between your legs, he wanted your thighs to crush him, he wanted to drown in your cum, he wanted the last sound he ever heard to be your squeaking whimpers of his name. His cock was pulsing against your couch, swollen nearly to the point of pain, with every lap it was getting harder. He didn’t think he would ever stop, your hands in his hair, nails against his neck and shoulders, your smell in his nose, your taste on his tongue, he could have stayed there forever. It wasn't until you started to pull him away by his roots that he finally came up for air again.

You shuddered as you peeled Choso away from your pussy. A thin, glistening string of spit and your arousal joined his wet lips to your sex, it was so erotic. He was panting as well, eyes wild with pleasure, damp face, swollen lips, looking to you for why you would have deprived him of his meal.

“Please, Choso, please let me fuck you,” you begged.

He protested weakly, “But I want you to--”

“Please, baby. I need you inside so badly.” You pointed out, moving your hand over the side of his face.

He pressed his cheek into your palm and nodded, sighing hard trying to catch his breath. You pulled him up to you, he followed, crawling on his hands up to your lips. Your kisses were now wet after his pleasuring you, you could taste yourself at the deepest part of his mouth you could reach. Choso ground his erection into you, sliding his length across your slick pussy and panting into your mouth. Gathering all your strength back you sat up, moving to assume the position from before. In the movements, he had finally freed his aching cock, gripping it hard at the base as you climbed over his lap. You slotted your lips against his over and over, tongues tangling, hands moving over hot, prickled skin. You rocked your hips up and down your slit, drenching him and building your anticipation. Choso pressed his forehead against yours, you could feel the sweat of his skin and the sweat of yours combining in between your skin. He angled his now dripping cock right at your entrance, you hissed as you made your way down his length. Moans escaped both of you as your tight walls sucked him in, head still pressed together, his hand bruising your waist. It had become so intimate, he filled you so entirely, pushing hard against the barrier of your cervix. You started to grind against him, moving your hips up and down, whimpering pathetically, arching your back. Your hands settled on his shoulders and stomach as you rode him faster and faster.

“Fuck, yes, you feel so good. Thank you.” Choso’s eyes were locked on your bouncing breasts. He leaned forward and caught one of your puffy nipples in his mouth again, sucking hard.

The feeling of him so deep inside of you, your increased sensitivity from him eating you out, and now his hot mouth teething and pulling at your chest had you so close already. You were almost embarrassed, but you couldn't keep yourself from bouncing more and more, grinding right up against his pelvis. Your hands moved up the back of his neck, keeping his head buried in your breasts, he switched to suck on your other nipple, moaning against your hot skin. One of his big hands squeezed at the fat of your ass, he couldn't get enough of you; he wanted to keep his hands and his mouth full of you, his cock buried inside of you forever. Your moans rose in pitch quickly, the hair at the base of his cock rubbing right against your clit. You pulled away, arching into his hand on your lower back, and humping against him even faster.

“Cho-Fuck baby, I…” You mewl out.

“Cum, please cum for me, baby. Make a mess on me please, cum on my cock, pleasepleaseplease.” he babbled, holding your hips in a bruising vice and helping you to raise and lower yourself.

He planted his feet on the ground, thrusting up to meet you halfway. You were so tight and hot, he could feel your wetness dripping down his balls, he could taste your sweat on the backs of his lips. Your cries started becoming intense and your body was shuddering against him, you could barely string together any thoughts beyond your desire to cum. FInally it all became too much, the hot pleasure that had been building all bursting out from you at once.

“Choso! I-- I--I’m cumming!” You cried against him, his thrusts under you were relentless, not stopping even as your orgasm peaked and valleyed before him.

“Fuck baby, yes. More more, please, fuck please, im--,” Choso’s own orgasm ripped through his body with nearly no warning, finally slowing his thrust, opting to press as deep as he could and dropping his head back against the couch. He moaned your name scrambled with curses and his throaty raspy groans.

Coming down from your shared high, Choso thrust up into you a few more times, shuttering at the feeling of spilling long spurts of cum inside of your hot, wet walls. You stilled your motions completely, hips aching, sweat dripping down your body, you pressed your head against his again, trying to catch your breath as quickly as possible. Choso kissed your jaw, your neck, your lips, your cheek, your temple, anywhere his lips could reach, sturdy hands massaging your hips and ass as he did. You smiled down at him, his face was tinted pink, his eyes were wet and full, he looked so fucked out, and so beautiful. The bun you had styled for him was barely hanging on,his bangs now stuck to his damp forehead. You dipped your head down and kissed him, the kiss now lazy but just as wet. Slippery mouths joining again and again as he rubbed your back. Once you felt you could move again, you moved off of his lap, his softening cock sliding out of you and flopping against his stomach. He panted in recovery once you had taken your place on the couch next to him, he pulled your legs into his lap, wanting to keep as good a hold on you as he could while still inside this bubble of intimacy you had created. He moved the back of his knuckles up and down your shin, turning his face toward you and gazing at you.

“That was…” He started, trailing off as words failed him once again.

You nodded blissfully, reaching over to grab his hand. He kissed the back of your hand.

“You’re….” this time he found his finishing words, “wow.”

You chuckled, “You too. I’m really glad you came over.”

“Me too.” he laughed a bit as well, gesturing to the half joint on the table, “You’re a bad influence on me.”

“I think you liked it.” you sat up taking the joint between your fingers and taking a lighter from the table.

You held the pink joint in between your lips, lighting it and puffing once before passing it over to Choso. He accepted and took a hit, then another, exhaling happily.

“I did. I do.” he answered finally.

You took the joint back, sitting up to his eye level as you puffed.

“I hope you don't think I’ll be giving you a discount because of this, I’m not that kind of dealer.” you joked.

A flirtatious smirk pulled at his lips, “If you had let me finish making you cum in my mouth, I think I could change your mind.”

You rolled your eyes, already feeling your pussy dampen and your nipples harden at his candor. He slid one arm around you, pulling you close and kissing your smoke warmed lips.

“Could I, maybe, come over again?” he asked against your lips, “Without needing to apologize to you for making a total ass of myself?”

Your heart squeezed, you had not yet started to worry that this was a one and done, his expert work leaving you already craving more. Everything that had happened was so unexpected, you started the day still seething from the first impression, but he had melted your icy demeanor instantly. You did want to see Choso again, you wanted him to make you feel like that again, you wanted to spoil him the way he had spoiled you. You wanted a chance to show him how good he had made you feel, and now you had the chance. You knew his situation, you knew yours, it was incredibly likely that this would be temporary, but even one more chance to share a night with him was enough for now.

I hope you guys enjoyed! As always, i did! Remember to use drugs responsibly and not give in to peer pressure, unless you think itll make people like you, then succumb. (im joking). alright bye! -- <3 Doodle

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lavenderrmidnightss · 4 months

Text

Safe and Sound - Billy the Kid

Billy the Kid (tom blyth) x fem!reader

Summary: While walking home one evening from the inn, a man comes across you and attempts to attack you. You are saved by Billy and he begins to grow very protective over you, right from the start.

Warnings: Attempted SA (not successful), cursing

Word Count: 1.9k

PART 2 IS HERE

The walk home felt like a near impossible task despite the reality of it being less than a mile walk. Working at the local inn was not lightwork as some may think. Taking care of others can be exhausting when you have so little to pour out of your cup. The sky’s hues were transitioning from its cerulean blue into shades of purples and pinks. Your eyes were trained on the varying colors that dared to come out as the day shifted into evening. The sunset resembled a masterpiece brushed on a canvas by a renowned artist. With each step, your eyes never failed to tear away from the beauty above you. Each step you took filled the air with echoes of crunching due to the diminutive pieces of gravel hidden in the dirt. Hard to see, but easy to feel through the sole of your shoe. Your commute home seemed to be working as a medium of decompressing until sudden movement out of your peripheral vision stole your attention. You caught a glimpse of a man stumbling towards you. Your instinct to move quickly kicked in, but you knew better. Acting afraid would only entice the man more. ‘Just keep your eyes forward. Just make it home,’ you thought to yourself.

“Where’s a pretty lady like yourself headed?” a coarse voice entered the atmosphere, demanding your focus. You looked over my shoulder, looking at him. Just a couple inches above your own height, he held a gaze on you to imply his superiority.

“And that’s your business, how?” you inquire, daring to stop in your tracks and face him. His complexion smeared with ash and hair slicked with sweat, your wonderings of who he was and why he was approaching you intensified.

The man’s eyebrow’s furrowed, accentuating dense lines and creases in his forehead. He made his way up to you, closing you in. “Well ya sure do got a lot of nerve, don’t ya?” He diabolically chuckled. You began to internally squirm as he noticeably began to eye you.

“Look at you. Exhausted. Looks like you’ve been on your feet for quite some time, haven’t ya?” He interrogated, allowing himself to continue looking you over. You could only imagine what he was envisioning as his eyes fixated on your chest.

“Look like a hardworkin’ woman. I admire that. Ya know, everybody has to earn their keep in these parts..” his voice trailed off just as his body began waltzing closer to yours, entrapping you. Your back soon crashed against a raggedy, abandoned building you weren’t even aware you were passing. It’s astonishing how much your mind evaporates when your main focus is survival. You knew where this was leading. You’ve seen so many women be taken, raped. Even some of your own friends. Men don’t view women as a treasure, but rather an accessory designed to bring them pleasure. It had become an intrusive thought; when would it happen to you? Looks like reality finally caught up with your nightmares.

His calloused hand toyed with the hem of your dress before slipping under. The rough texture of his skin clashed with the silkiness of your own. You were frozen in fear. His face now hovered in front of yours. “Bet you could be a real good worker for me, couldn’t ya?” A condescending smirk decorated his face.

Your stomach churned. “Get off of me. Right now.” The short demands came out urgently. Your hands moved to defend yourself, preparing to shove his stocky body off yours. However, you underestimated his strength and build. He grabbed your wrists and shoved your arms above your head, pinning them there.

“Fiesty too? They say that manifests well in the bed,” his growl echoed in your ear, his face grazing yours. “Mm, you’ll fit right in. Just be good for me, would ya? Listen to what I say and do as you're told, and you’ll be treated well.”

“Fuck off,” you spat in his face, jabbing your knee up to jolt his gut. He stumbled back, releasing you. You took the opportunity to sprint away. The world moved in slow motion. Your feet couldn’t carry you fast enough. Time resumed when you felt two hands snatching your waist, slamming you to the ground. The husky body which entrapped you before immediately went for it again, but this time, pinning you into the dirt and gravel mixture where your feet once stood. The pain you once felt radiating from the sole of your shoe, walking on the road, now pierced deeply into your back. You squirmed, trying to loosen yourself from him. It was no use.

“Gonna be a bitch? Then I’ll take you right here for free, show you what you’re missing,” he grumbled, beginning to unbuckle his pants. Continuously trying to make your way out, no amount of thrashing would free you. Looking around you, you tried to decide if screaming for help was even worth it. Who would hear you? You were alone with this man. Your eyes darted up to the sky only to find the pastel colors which once delicately danced above you had descended into darkness.

“P-Please, no, I’ll go with you. I’ll listen. Just, please don’t. Not here, I-” you were a stuttering mess, hoping your pleads would be enough to convince him to get off you. You squeezed your eyes shut. If you didn’t see it, maybe it would be quick and over with? Maybe it would sting less? As soon as your eyes shut, the weight of his body completely lifted off of you. You thought you were dreaming it, that it wasn’t reality. However, the sound of a heavy thud crashing to the ground, along with groaning and pounding, you were assured you were safe.

You open your eyes to find a significantly taller man had swept in. His messy, brunette ringlets dangled in front of his sculpted face as his feet consistently and harshly came in contact with the enemy’s stomach. You weren’t one for violence, but you admitted that seeing this mystery lifesaver relentlessly pounding into this bastard was a joy. You sat up, finding a pair of sapphire eyes lighting the darkness, striking you.

“What’re you waiting for? Go, run,” he called out to you, before putting all his attention back on the attacker. You stumbled to your feet, backing up to guard your body behind a railing. However, your eyes stayed on the match. Really, just the one who swept in to save the day. You studied him closely.

The stocky man who had attempted to pull at the one hovering over him. You were taken aback when in quick response, zero wait time, blue eyes drew out a gun, aiming it at him. “Try that again, and it’ll be the last damn thing you do,” he growled, cocking the gun. The man on the ground shrunk by tenfold. You watched as fear washed over him, the metal rim dangling in his face. Holy shit.

“Get up,” blue eyes demanded him, watching as he slowly stood. The demand in his voice was filled with such hatred. The man who was once so confident now trembled in fear for his life, his hands going in the air. Blue eyes kept his aim on the man before him. “Get out of this town. Far away. Let me so far as see a glimpse of you around these parts, and you’re a dead man. Got it?” The trembling man nodded shakily and quickly, sprinting off without another word.

Suddenly, the world got quiet. Finally. You emerged from your temporary hiding place just as the man who saved your life turned to face you. “Thank you,” you managed to get out. “I-I don’t know what I would’ve done, what would’ve happened if-” A drawn out, thick accent cut you off.

“I’m sure of what would’ve happened, and it would’ve been awful. What’re you doin’ anyway, walking around here this time of evenin’ all by yourself?” He secured his gun into its holster as he made his way over to me. His demeanor was entirely different. He radiated protection, genuinity. Minutes prior, you were trying to escape a nightmare. Now, you were being drawn in by a stranger’s kind act and handsome features. You felt safe. How refreshing.

“I was just heading home from the inn. What’s your name?” you asked, desperate to know the name of the one who guarded you.

“Name’s Billy. And you?” Billy. His name etched into your mind, knowing it would now hold a priority in the forefront of your thoughts. You told him your name, to which he nodded. “How about I get you home?”

With that, Billy guided you on the path back home. The gravel didn’t seem so daunting against your soles now. Under the pitch black sky adorned with stars, you had Billy to protect you. The walk to your place wasn’t filled with much conversation, but when it was, you were fascinated by his thoughts and the sound of his voice.

Once he had successfully guided you to your destination, you noted that his eyes scanned over the place almost as if he were attempting to memorize its design and build. Billy didn’t want to leave you. He couldn’t invite himself in, couldn’t insist you to leave with him. Not after what he had just saved you from. He knew if there was a shot in hell he was going to gain your trust, he had to demonstrate he was worthy of it.

“He didn’t hurt you, right, darlin’?” Billy’s tone was now hushed, almost as if it solidified his authenticity. Billy’s eyes were a shade you had never seen before, but a shade you would quickly find filling your dreams. Your heart admittedly flipped at the sound of the pet name rolling off his tongue so effortlessly.

“No, he didn’t. You got there just in time. Thank you, Billy. Again. Don’t know how I could ever return the favor for what you’ve done for me.” Billy’s smile lit up the night sky, melting you from head to toe. He shook his head, shrugging.

“No greater pleasure than protecting ya. Now, get in and get some rest.” Billy watched you disappear into your house, the screen door creaking behind you. It felt wrong to leave you so abruptly. Never before had he felt a desire to stay up long hours of the night getting to know another before, but for you, he ached to. Billy couldn’t leave you. As you went in and laid down, wondering where Billy was headed off to and if you would ever even see him again, Billy sat down on the steps of your porch. Adjusting himself, his back aligned with the post. Leaning his head back, he pushed the strands of hair out of his face. He basked in the breeze of the night, listening to the harmony of varying late night insects. He also intently listened for any potential danger, looking to protect you at all costs. Maybe it was the innocence in your voice that enticed him. Maybe it was the way your hair flowed down, the way you were unafraid to fight that enthralled him. Regardless of how it happened, Billy had an instantaneous desire to keep you out of harm’s way, no matter what it cost. As you laid in bed, you thought of Billy. As he leaned against your porch that night, he knew he was doing his job. He was keeping you safe and sound.

______________________________________________________________

#tom blyth #billy the kid x reader #tom blyth x you #tom blyth fanfiction #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid x you #fanfic #protective #billy the kid x fem!reader

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pinkrelish · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶It's Christmas morning at the Munson's and Adrie has a small request.✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, lovesick yearning, very light angst, 18+ for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 7/20 [wc: 3.4k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 7: Breakthrough

Dreams of sleeping in were crushed one tiny footstep at a time.

Morning broke through the burgundy bed sheet hung as a curtain in the window. Slivers of blue fought away the slumbering gloom clinging to the peeled wallpaper, invading the small bedroom in drowsy clock ticks. Murky wine-colored shadows caressed the bundled comforter, crowded the pillows, soothed closed eyes into sweet dreams. Darkness cradled his head and sold him a lullaby fantasy. An aching yearn of a dream where the cold penetrating the thin trailer walls was kept at bay by more than his own body heat. Arms encircling him, a kiss behind his ear, a gentle wake up call. An idyllic rapture easily woven from the fibers of his unguarded heart. An aspiration quickly escaping his wishful fingers at the sound of running, and the vibrations of the trailer shaking, and–especially–the little voice yelling at him his five extra minutes were up.

“Daddy! You have to wake up.” Adrie jumped knees-first onto the mattress, and bounced her way over to him. “It’s Christmas, you have to get up!”

He grumbled from his warm pocket of air under the covers, and she whined.

“Please,” she begged, crawling towards him.

He winced, and hissed, “Ow-ow-ow, watch the hair. Miss Mouse won’t like me if I go bald.” He dropped his head back to where she sank her mighty fists into his pillow, and she apologized by putting all her strength into shaking his shoulder instead.

Wayne called from the kitchen, “I’m gettin’ started on our famous Christmas casserole.”

“Now that,” Eddie said in an upbeat tone, “I’ll get up for.”

“You’re mean,” Adrie pouted, scooting until her knees dug into his spine, and added on to it by saying it wasn’t fair he was making her wait to open presents.

Eddie twisted around to see her manufactured sad face (practiced over the years to elicit the strongest pity in him), and he snaked his arm out of the blankets to hook it around her, bringing her wriggling self in for a sloppy kiss on her forehead. She made a ‘yuck!’ sound and pushed away.

“Go sit, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Willfully, Adrienne slipped from his hold and sprinted the length of the trailer, rattling the metal window panes along her way.

In the following moment of quiet, he inhaled deep, and sighed through his hands scrubbing over his face. The oil in the electric radiator popped. A bird chirped. Music blasted from a neighbor’s home. A faraway bike skidded, spitting up loose rocks from the trailer park’s entrance.

Eddie rolled onto his back, and blinked at the stained ceiling. He tried to not make a habit of sleeping in Adrie’s bed now that she was older, but sometimes his back cried for a break from the lumpy couch cushions.. His back, his hips, his knees, his neck. All of it. Every now and then he needed the relief, to flatten himself out on the mattress after several long days of work wearing down on his body, even if it was considered weird or wrong by others.

Swinging his legs over the short drop to the floor, Eddie straightened out his thick knit socks, sweatpants, sweatshirt. He rubbed his knuckles against his dry eyes, stinging a line of water along his lashes. Flipped off the switch to the heater. Ran his fingers through his tangled hair, mouth tasting of stale beer from drinking last night with Wayne.

He stepped out of the room that used to be his, and staring at him down the hallway, past the kitchen, at the other end of the lousy home, was his little girl. She sat crisscrossed at the stout tree smelling of fresh sap, illuminated by colorful strands of lights, and backed by old ornaments previously stored in cardboard boxes. Her eyes sparkled with silver tinsel happiness, and her springy curls bounced with the excitement of her wave.

Wayne wrung a damp dish towel around his hands as he and Eddie made their way to the couch, and he gestured at her. “Alright, darlin’, you can go.”

The sacrifices were worth it.

In this lousy home filled with overdue bills and underprivileged struggles, was an abundance of love and awe. Eddie sat at the edge of his make-do bed with scratchy cushions that chafed his skin raw, and brushed his shaky fingers over his lips. “Yeah? Is that the one you wanted?” he asked, grinning so wide his puffy sleep-deprived eyes nearly closed from the unbridled joy he felt watching his daughter tear into the Rockin Robot cassette player and recorder; a toy which had an attached microphone so she could record herself singing onto blank tapes. “Wanna make music just like me?”

“Yes! I love it!”

It didn’t take long for Adrie to open her presents in the established order–smallest to largest. Stocking stuffers first, which she dumped out onto the pine-needled carpet, and snatched all the chocolates to put on the coffee table next to the plate of cookie crumbs and empty Looney Tunes mug. Tossed the pack of new socks and dress into a pile, but wore her pink rain boots. The talking Barney the Dinosaur doll, cassette recorder, and Barbie Fold ‘n Fun play house were placed aside for assembly and batteries later.

Wayne gathered the ribbons and bows she discarded to be saved for next year, and said, “Okay, Miss Adrie. Looks like you have one present left.”

The forest green bag with a portrait of Saint Nick sat propped against the tree, nearly as tall as Adrie when she stood and grabbed the handles. She peeked inside, and in one motion, dropped to the floor, and dislodged gift after gift. An eight-page book with reusable stickers she could move around to create scenes of dinosaurs roaming the land. A big box of 64 crayons with two coloring books. A plastic jewelry making kit. A puzzle. Containers of Play-Doh. And the very last item, turned over and shaken out from the bag, was a unicorn.

Adrie squealed, and swept the stuffed animal into her arms for a merciless hug. “He’s so cute!” she said, burying her face in the powder blue fur.

Eddie stopped tracing his lips. Wayne tilted his head at the scene, confused.

Spotting a small red envelope amongst the torn newspaper her presents were wrapped in, Adrie picked it up, and mouthed out the handwriting she wasn’t familiar with. “Santa left this for you.” Adrie held it out for Eddie to take.

Prying his gaze off the unexpected hoard, he accepted the envelope with his name on it, not uttering a word, nor reacting more than necessary. She bolted for her toys, and Wayne’s scrutiny was hot on the side of his expressionless face, watching him slide his finger under the corner of the flap and break the seal gently, avoiding tearing the paper.

He pulled out the card to reveal an illustration of two cardinals in a pine tree flocked with white glitter snow with a generic greeting on the front. Certain words were underlined in pen afterwards.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

He opened it to see if anything was written inside.

One glimpse.

He smashed the card closed and turned his face away from his uncle.

Collecting himself, Eddie sniffed and ran his knuckles along his jaw until he reached back and wrung his nape as he stood up, and walked to the coat hooks, slipping on his jacket and shoving his feet into his work boots without acknowledging his family.

“Where’re you–?” Wayne stared at his back in quiet bafflement.

“Goin’ out for a smoke,” he answered, and shut the door behind him.

~~~

Tree branches stilled after the delicate breeze knocking them together ceased. Hungry dogs went inside for kibble and warm blankets. Kids stopped riding their bikes when their moms called their names. Humidity dampened the crisp air. Everything hushed.

Eddie sat on the frumpy loveseat on the porch built onto the trailer. His forearms laid on his thighs, and the card remained clapped between his palms. He took a shaky breath. Exhaled. Or tried, anyway, to breathe despite his nose stopping up.

He opened the card again and read the message spanning the entire blank space available.

merry christmas eddie,

i hope adrie likes the gifts!

i know it’s hard for you to find peace,

so i tried going for quiet things that would

keep her busy, like the puzzle. it’s double sided!

that’ll keep her entertained. and i loved

play-doh as a kid, so i hope she does

too. & i can get her more coloring books if

she doesn’t like the animal ones. i know

Continued on the other side–

the bracelet kit says ages 7+ but maybe

you can supervise her. i remember having

one when i was little, before parents cared if

we choked on the beads.

SEASONS GREETINGS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR

if she’s not still in her unicorn phase, spare me!

it was too cute to pass up.

anyway, please get lots of rest over the holidays.

you deserve to relax.

–♡–

mouse

His daughter came dashing out the door, and ran up to him with her jacket flapping around her arms. He shoved the card under his thigh, and shifted his focus to zipping it up for her to silence his emotions from surfacing, not having the energy to risk shattering the facade of the morning by explaining why the unicorn she galloped up his leg meant more to him than it did her.

“You like what Santa got you?” he asked, running a heavy hand over her hair.

“He knew exactly what I wanted,” she rejoiced.

With the temperature dropped, and her boots shiny, she raced the stuffed animal up to his hip, and left him to babysit it while she played outside in the frozen-over yard.

Gladly, he tucked the unicorn companion under his arm as Wayne pushed open the squeaky side door and joined him.

Under normal circumstances, Wayne’s old man stoicism worked wonders on getting Eddie to talk. It was a sure thing. He’d see him come home with red-rimmed eyes, or that far away gaze on the worser days, and he sat in earnest patience, knowing his nephew needed the cool down time to organize his thoughts, and then he’d explain what had him upset.

It worked less well in the years following the incident which led to Eddie’s ostracization from Hawkins, but he just had to be patient. It would work. Eventually. Just had to be patient.

And when his nephew refused to speak, Wayne sparked up a cigarette, and ventured, “I don’t, uh, remember us buyin’ those last presents.”

“They’re from the receptionist at work,” Eddie stated. He didn’t move his gaze from staring holes into the worn down floorboards, but he did sink back into the couch, combing his fingers through the unicorn’s white mane.

“Oh,” Wayne said in genuine surprise. “That was nice of her.”

Treading carefully, his uncle spun his hand as he thought of the best way to approach the real conversation he wanted to have. “She seems nice.. To you, and to Adrie.”

That was when Eddie shook his head. “I know where you're going with this,” he warned, absent of any real threat behind the words.

He went silent in stubbornness.

But Wayne just had to be patient.

“She’s very.. uh.” Eddie sighed. He started again, this time looking up at the rusted awning as if it had all the answers to his love life woes. “She’s very vibrant, y’know? From the city, lives a big life, loves performing for people. She doesn’t need a gray cloud like me hanging over her.” He laughed a hollow laugh, and bumped his shoulder into Wayne’s, pretending their conversation was of the light-hearted variety. Like admitting these things aloud didn’t cause a devastating blow to his neglected self-esteem. “Doesn’t need someone like me tying her down to a place like this.”

Wayne scanned the same trailer park in the same small town with the same curse of bearing the Munson name, but he viewed them with less disdain. Less animosity. “You used to be vibrant too, kid. Used to always be talkin’ about your hobbies, playing music too loud, sittin’ out here with your guitar. Always bringing your friends over. What happened?”

Too many things happened, and they were not the kind he verbalized often, so Eddie chose the most obvious.

The corner of his mouth twitched at the joke flashing through his mind. He got in real close to Wayne’s face, raised his hand, and directed his attention. “My vibrancy’s currently ruining her new shoes.”

Tracking his finger, Wayne slowly turned his head in time to see Adrie crack the ice barring her from a puddle, and stomped it into smithereens, sending mud up her pajama pants and into her pretty pink rain boots. She jumped, and jumped, and giggled, and jumped, all over her dad’s heart.

Satisfied, Eddie hugged the unicorn to his chest after making his point.

“Have you considered maybe she likes gray clouds? Or she’s the type that looks forward to the rainy days?”

“We can drop the weather analogies, Wayne,” he said in a curt tone, cutting off his uncle's incessantness. “It’s not that, anyway. I know she likes me, I’m not that dense.”

Wayne didn’t put much effort into keeping the humor out of his voice, “Then what are you being dense about?” The contemptuous head tilt and accompanying eye roll were earned, but not regretted.

“She might be moving away at the end of summer.”

He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Might be?”

“She doesn’t know yet.”

He watched Eddie’s expression slacken to stark blankness again–face and posture wilting, weighed down by his fate–already resigning on a relationship he hadn’t yet given a chance. “Don’t you want to at least try? I mean, you never know. What if she–?”

“Don’t you think I’ve thought about that?” Eddie interrupted, growing annoyed at the topic and allowing it to seep into his temper. “Don’t you think I’ve sat here, day after day, and thought about it from all angles? Over, and over.” He became more animated as he spat out questions rapid-fire. “What if she stays? What if she leaves? What if things work out? What if they don’t? Do I deserve it even if it’s short term? Can I handle it when Adrie asks me why she’s not around anymore? Like, fuck. It’s all I think about. Constantly! Just again, and again. She could move back to New York and live her accomplished life without ever giving me another thought, but what if she doesn’t want to go back? What if she wants to stick around? What if she wants to work with me at the garage forever, and we get married, and buy a small house with a white picket fence, and live out our textbook dream together with 2.5 kids and a dog. Who knows!” Done ranting, Eddie ended it in a full bodied shrug, and collapsed into the cushions, releasing the most cathartic, yet dramatic sigh Wayne had ever heard. “She’s all I think about. Drives me insane.”

Wayne held out the pack of Camels to him, but it was rejected in a limp wave.

“I..” Eddie’s mouth hinged on the words, bottom lip quivering as the questions he posed washed over him as an exhausted, watery-eyed truth, “I didn’t even realize how bad the stress had gotten until she just..” He motioned. “Fixed it.”

Acknowledging the bitter reality, Wayne nodded. “You are much nicer to be around since you two started hanging out.. Adrie sees it, too.”

Not that Eddie meant to be an asshole, but after grueling hours of hard labor, he had little tolerance for the arguments before bath time, or the meltdowns before school. Months prior, he was alongside his daughter, crying harder than she did when the smallest inconvenience set her off, ending with both of them huddled on the floor; one of them screaming to be understood, and the other in a hopeless heap of a man who reduced himself to a shitty father who couldn’t do anything right, drowning under the pressure, anxiety, responsibility to not fuck up again.

Now, he was able to swim to the sun glimmering on the surface.

Wayne landed his rough palm atop Eddie’s untamed bedhead, and soothed him, “You should give yourself a chance at something great. I’ll be here to pick up the pieces if it doesn’t work out.”

Eddie sniffed, and wrung his lips to the side. “You gonna pick up Adrie’s pieces too?” he asked softly.

“I will, son.” Despite the rocky times in their relationship–the slammed doors, the yelling matches, the coming home with a newborn and no money to afford baby formula–Wayne promised him, “Whatever it takes to make you happy. I’ll do it.”

The egg timer in the kitchen dinged.

“Breakfast’s ready,” he grunted, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray, and giving the quick-nod-with-a-flattened-smile older men were known for after confiding in one another, and he went inside.

There wasn’t much time for Eddie to process the weight of his internal decision before Adrie was climbing onto the loveseat. And if she noticed she left a trail of mud up his pant’s leg on her way to kneeling beside him, she didn’t care. All that mattered was her icicle skin melting in the warmth of his heavy arm wrapped around her middle; and effortlessly, she fell into the comfort of his embrace while working her hands beneath his hair, untucking it from his jacket’s collar, and hugging him back.

Eddie stashed the card in his pocket, and grabbed the unicorn by the back of its head, putting the nose to her cheek and pretending it was giving her kisses. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, pulling strands of his curls around her fingers while her cold nose was pressed to his throat. “Can Miss Mouse come over to play?”

“Not today. She’s busy with her own celebrations.”

It was weird how calmly he could answer her. No twisted tongue sitting in his mouth like lead, no tensed stomach from an assault of nerves, no racing thoughts of you and Adrie becoming too close before he was ready to disappoint her. The fear was still there, of course. But he didn’t dread it. He held his daughter tucked against his body, and whispered into the unruly hair she inherited, “But she will soon, okay?”

“Yay!” She showed her excitement by constricting her arms around him in a perfect vice.

He wedged the unicorn between them and scooped her onto his hip. “What say you, Princess Adrienne? Shall we go in for a bit of Christmas morning casserole, and partake in reindeer games after getting you into your winter attire? Hmm?” She wasn’t responding. “Adrie?”

Her mouth was hung open, and her hand out, palm turned upward, making a grabby motion at something over his shoulder.

Eddie listened to her, and turned.

Snow fell, fell, fell from the low hanging clouds smudging the sky in shades of gray, bestowing the trailer park with fat flakes drifting beyond the safety of the porch, melting onto the dead grass and brushing past his car’s mirror. Pretty, pretty things of childlike magic Adrie caught on her fingertips. Special things floating to the edge of the wobbly floorboards, and sticking to his hair for her to laugh at.

“I love you,” he said in a kiss to her bitter cold cheek.

“Love you too, Daddy,” she replied in the same fashion, with an additional kiss from the unicorn to the tip of his nose.

Doors around the trailer park opened. Wide eyes of wonder gazed up, and around, searching for friends to celebrate with. Eddie felt exposed in his all black outfit against the growing landscape of white. They were looking at him. Judging him. Munson. But, unlike any other day, the desire to bolt from their intrusive stares dwindled with each graze of his thumb over the card in his pocket.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

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