#Definitely Should have Made more Frames But I Did Make it when Tired So | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

takumasheisty · 13 days ago

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Your bestfriend was turning 19 today. For his birthday, you guys all decided to throw him a surprise party, although you were the mastermind behind most of the plans.

You guys managed to plan a day where you were all free and met up at the store to buy supplies for the party. Bakugo and Izuku picked up the cake, Bakugo insisting that he should be the one to hold it so “none of you idiots drop it”.

Mina and Ururaka handled the snacks and drinks, while you took care of most of the decorations, Denki by your side giving his two cents every time you made a decision. After you guys had bought the supplies, you carpooled over to Kirishima’s house, you driving, of course. The atmosphere was mostly Denki spewing his nonsense, Bakugo yelling at him to shut the fuck up, Mina singing along to whatever the aux was playing, and Izuku and Ururaka chatting it up in the back. Honestly, it’s a surprise you were even able to drive everyone to Kirishima’s place safely with the amount of distractions that you had to deal with.

After successfully making it to his place with all 6 lives, you all quickly ran inside to set up. Fortunately, you were able to keep everyone on track, and the decorations were done in half an hour. Bright red steamers hung down from the frame that led into the kitchen and balloons of all different designs floated gently around the room. Big balloons spelling out “HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIRISHIMA” were carefully placed on the wall, visible to those who walked in through the front door. Everyone placed their party hats on, although Bakugo seemed a little more hesitant than everyone else. All the gifts were placed off to the side for him to open later. Finally, you had laid the cake out, bringing the “19” candles out when you hear the locking sound of a car outside the house.

You shut all the lights off and usher everyone to their spots, wanting to make this night perfect for your best friend. You hear the jingle of keys in the lock, walking closer to the entrance, and as the door slightly pushes open, you and everyone pop out of hiding.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” Everyone screams, Mina and Denki popping party streamers right in his face.

“AH! Fuck guys. Scared me so damn bad!” His crimson eyes drift to yours first, and he looks around, breathing heavily. He was in a black tank and shorts , probably coming back from the gym like always.

“Were you surprised?!?!” You exclaim, grinning from ear to ear. He walks in, placing his bag down as he admires all of your hard work.

“Super surprised. Can’t believe you guys did all of this for me… so.. manly.” It sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and everyone starts laughing, watching him wipe away the tears that threaten to fall.

“Wait how did you get in?” He looks around confused.

“Dude. I literally have a key.” Denki says, enticing laughs from everyone.

“Well, should we do the cake?!” Ururaka says, and everyone cheers. Of course, you guys set it up as Kirishima goes to his room to freshen up. After a few minutes Izuku calls Kirishima to come down, and he walks out in a white tee and grey sweats. You can’t help but notice how big he’s gotten recently, the gym is definitely doing wonders to his body.

He walks over, towering behind you as you raise the lighter to light the candles. Ururaka gets out her phone and you guys sing happy birthday for him. Before blowing out the candles, he glanced over to you, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Following his “birthday wish” everyone cheers once more, and Izuku takes the responsibility of cutting everyone a slice. Everyone walks over to his couch, and someone puts a movie on the tv though nobody ends up actually watching it. You guys hang out as bestfriends, and it warms your heart to see everyone enjoying the party.

It gets late, and everyone seems to be getting a little tired. Ururaka proposes the idea of everyone taking an Uber back home together, and everyone agrees, but you had something else in mind.

“You guys go okay? Don’t worry about me!” You smile at them, and they all obviously exchange looks with each other.

Denki walks over to Kirishima and whispers something in his ear, something that makes Kirishima flush red. Mina and Ururaka pull you aside aswell, bombarding you with questions.

“Y/N you’ve been spending a lot of time with Kirishima.. is something going on between you two?” Ururaka teases you, causing the tips of your ears to warm up.

“W-what! No of course n-“ as you attempt to defend yourself, Mina interupts.

“Girl there definitely is. What you got planned for him tonight??” She says a little too loud for your liking, and you plead with her to be just a little quieter.

“Oh my god guys. It’s nothing!! Go home please!” You say, almost pushing them out the door.

“Bye Y/N! Oh and you too Kiri!” She winks at you, giggling with Ururaka as they walk out.

You compliment everyone on their hard work, and Kirishima thanks everyone, closing the door as Bakugo is the last the walk out.

“Oi.” Bakugo turns and sighs.

“Don’t do anything stupid.. got it? He says nonchalantly before walking off towards the rest of the group.

You and Kirishima stand there for a minute, trying to comprehend what you just heard. Although you guys ignore the comment, you still can’t help but feel embarrassed.

“So uh. Y/N? Why’d you decide to stay after?” Kirishima rubs the back of his head as he looks down, shy. It’s unlike him to be so bashful, especially around you.

“Just wanted to hang out a little longer. That’s.. okay, right?” You assure, batting your long eyelashes at him, and he nods his head without hesitation. It’s not like he can say no, especially when you’ve got him in a trance with those deep brown eyes.

“You wanna.. watch a movie or something? Or we can do whatever really it’s up to you like I don’t m-“ He starts rambling on, is he nervous? It’s not like you guys haven’t hung out alone together in the past.

Although now that you think about it, he’s been acting a little strange recently, like more than usual strange. A lot of the time he gets a little quieter around you, like he’s picking out his words carefully. You even catch him glancing at you, and you tease him about it all the time.

“Kiri.. you good? I’m fine with a movie!” You ask him concerned, and giggle at his stuttering. It seemed as though he stiffened up at your question.

“Y-yeah.. sorry.” He relaxed again, and you guys walked towards the couch. After a good minute of scrolling through Netflix, you two agree on a movie to watch. He gets up to grab two blankets, but he returns one after you insist that you guys can share.

“Lights off?” He asks, and you nod your head.

You can hear the soft padding of his feet on the wood floor as he makes his way towards you. He gets comfy on the couch, his back resting against the arm of the couch. You move in closer, laying your head on his chest and snuggling up on him under the blanket. He goes silent, and you can feel his heartbeat slowly speed up. Then, he takes his arm and gently wraps it around your shoulder, holding you close. You look up at him and smile, not aware of the position you just put him in.

As you two watch the movie, you move yourself to get more comfortable, and without realizing it, you grind your ass on his crotch. Of course, you were oblivious to what you had done, but Kirishima felt it. He groans quietly at the gentle friction you had unknowingly given him and he prays to god that you just sit still.

However, you still weren’t comfortable. Again, you adjust your body, trying to find a suitable position. And again, Kirishima feels the plush fat of your ass grind over his crotch, a little harder this time. He chokes up, a whimper almost leaving his mouth.

Now he’s hard. He knew it would happen, and he wanted to prevent it but he can’t really control that can he? All he can do is be thankful that the lights are off, otherwise you probably would’ve seen his hardon. Although the thought of you seeing him in this state has crossed his mind so many times over the last few weeks.

“Y/N, I’ll be back, gimme a minute.” You tell him to come back quickly, as Kirishima gets up and makes his way towards the hallway. He disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door.

He rushes to the sink, leaning against the counter. He looks down at his sweats.

Shit.

He was hard as a rock.

“Fuck..” He whispers to himself. He knew when it got like this he was almost insatiable. Sometimes when he got in the mood.. you would cross his mind. Only you. Enticing him with your beautiful complexion and thick lips. He’d always end up jerking his cock for hours, although he understood he’d never truly be satisfied.

But why now? Why when you were literally in his living room, waiting for him on his couch? He had to do something, it was so hard it nearly hurt. Maybe if he could just give himself some friction he could hold out until you went home.

He pulled down his sweats gently palmed himself over his boxers, causing him to gasp, a little too loud. If he’s gonna be indecent in your presence he should at least be quiet.

He’s so needy. So, so needy. He would do anything for you to come over and help him but he knows that’s not realistic. For him to think about you, his bestfriend in a way so lewd is so disgusting, so.. so filthy. He moans quietly, reaching into his boxers to pull out his already leaking cock. He inhales sharply at the familiar sensation, as he runs his trembling hand down the underside of his dick.

He exhales shakily, and begins stroking himself slowly, adjusting to his warm hand.

“A-ah..” he whimpers out, just quiet enough so that you don’t suspect anything. Images of you pass through his mind. Images of your smaller frame, images of your beautiful smile and sounds of your heartening laughter running through his head. You’re so beautiful.

What would you look like with his cock in your hand, in your mouth maybe? He covers his mouth with his free hand and squeezes his eyes shut. How can he think of you in such a vulgar way? You’ve been nothing but kind and respectful to him, and surely you’ll be disgusted and never want to see him again if you catch him here.

His face flushes pink as his cock releases more precum. He picks up the pace and applies more pressure on his cock, using his thumb to massage the slit on his pink tip.

“Ngh.. ah- ah..” he moans into the empty bathroom. It’s only been a few minutes but the feeling of his hand jerking his cock is stimulating him so good. He whimpers and moans quietly to himself, pleading for who knows what.

Still, you’re laying on the couch, waiting for Kirishima to come back. It’s been quite some time now, and he’s still in the bathroom. You get up, and make your way over to the bathroom, calling out for him.

“Kiri? You okay in there?” You ask concerned, maybe he has an upset stomach, he did eat a lot of cake.

The sound of your approaching voice sends Kirishima into a state of panic. He cannot let you see him like this.

“Y-yeah! I’m good!” His voice cracks slightly.

“Just gimme.. gimme a second I’m doing something.” You take his word and make your way back over to the couch. You just hope he’s alright. The sound of your footsteps gets quieter and quieter, and he sighs. A sigh of relief.

“Gotta.. finish.. p-please..” He tells himself, his hand getting tired from stroking his cock. He stroked himself a little faster, using his other hand to play with his balls. He needs all the stimulation he can get.

“F-fuck..” Kiri cries out, biting down on his shirt in an attempt to muffle his loud sounds. He focuses on his sensitive tip, each graze of his finger making him squint. He leans against the wall and tilts his head back, chasing his release.

“Ngh..!” He moans out, at a volume that you definitely heard. He keeps going though, disregarding the sound of your feet padding across the floor.

“Kirishima. Are you okay? I’m worried.” You say against the door, waiting for his response.

His heart stops.

His hand doesn’t.

He whimpers again, his hips begin bucking up into his hand as he desperately chases that sweet release.

“Y/N, I’m.. a-okay.” He tries his best to sound convincing, and he fails horribly.

“Kirishima. I’m coming in.” His eyes open wide and his head turns towards the door.

“No! Y/N don-“ the door swings open, and there you are. In the doorway. Your eyes lock on his hand and bare dick. But he can’t stop. He can’t stop his hand from moving. He can’t stop the whimpers and moans from leaving his mouth.

What a filthy sight.. your bestfriend.. staring at you with such needy eyes as he ruts his hips up into his hand. You freeze for a moment, trying to comprehend what’s going on.

Once you do, you shut the door so quickly, chanting apologies from behind the door. Everything happened so quickly, and he finally realizes what’s going on and lets go of his dick, still failing to orgasm.

“Oh my god. Y/N I’m so, so sorry. I.. I didn’t want you to see me like this.” Kirishima blurts out, you two both still in shock. He’s always had thoughts about you with your eyes on him as he’s masterbating, but now that it’s happened it’s more of a nightmare than a dream.

“Um. I-.. can you.. finish.. at least? I shouldn’t have walked in on you.” What are you even supposed to say? It’s not like you haven’t thought about your bestfriend in sexual scenes like this but for it to happen right now? You’re not prepared!

“Um.. I.. I can’t. It’s been like this for some time. I-it wouldn’t go down.. don’t know what to do.” He says quietly, embarrassed. He wants to disappear. To cry. He’s sure you’d hate him now. But a part of him wants you to assist him in any way possible.

“I’m not really.. I don’t know. Maybe I-I can help you..?” No way you just suggested that. Are you out of your mind, you’re nowhere near experienced!

His eyes light up, he wants to say yes, but he can’t allow you to do this for him.

“No. No, Y/N. I’m sorry this is so disgusting, if you want to leave I understand. I’m so embarrassed.” He tells you from the other side of the door. You feel bad for him. How long has he felt like this? Of course, you want him to come to you for anything but were you offering too much? But you can’t leave him like this, especially since you interrupted his session.

“Kiri, it’s okay. It could be like a learning experience..?” You try to lighten the mood with a half joke. You push the door open slightly, peeking into the room. His eyes avert yours, the tips of his ears and cheeks bright pink.

He glances at you with a look of guilt on his face, looking away again. But you smile at him, trying to alleviate some of the embarrassment he’s feeling. You walk over to him and place your hand on his cheek, causing him to look over to you. Your eyes lock with his crimson eyes and he admires your face. You’re so kind to him. You look down at his leaking cock, he’s still hard. This poor boy.

You reach your hand down to his cock but hesitate.

“Can I..?” You ask him. He doesn’t respond verbally, but he looks at you with a pleading expression, almost begging for you to help him.

You grab his cock, gently squeezing around it. He gasps, his abs flexing. He looks down at you, not sure of what to make of the situation.

“Do you.. like me? Kiri?” You ask, waiting for his response.

“So much. Didn’t want to.. ruin.. our f-friendship..“ he says, whimpering in between each word. You question him further, wanting to know how long this has been going on for.

“Since the f-first.. day. You w-walked into class and I..” he moans as he tells recalls the memory of you. You had just transferred to the school and knew nobody at all. But you got your hair and nails done, and you and everyone else knew you looked good. Unsurprisingly, the boy with the bright red hair decided to walk up to you and show you around the school, soon becoming your best friend.

“..I’ve been.. d-desperate for you for a few..” he begins confessing, lost in the pleasure. Slowly, you increase the speed of your hand, making sure to squeeze his cock each time you reach the base.

“few.. f-fuck.. months. Wanted.. n-needed you ‘s.. bad..”

“And..?” You coax more info out of him.

“I.. everytime it gets like this..” he says, referring to his cock.

“I-I think about.. you.. ‘m.. s-sorry.. ngh.. I would master-masterbate.. for hours. Never was s-satisfied though..”

Your bestfriend just confessed maybe everything? He has feelings for you and he jerks himself off thinking about you. All of this makes you realize that deep in your mind, you felt the same. But pushed the feelings back, for the same reason he did.

“Yeah?” Your tone sultry, a tone you’ve never used with him before. You loll your tongue out, allowing it to tease the tip.

“Y-yeah.. Sh-shit.. even.. even dreamed.. about this.. happening. Never thought it w-would come true.” It’s getting harder for him to form sentences, his brain malfunctioning.

“D-don’t.. don’t hate me.. please. ‘m sorry..” he pleads. Your heart hurts, how could he ever think such a thing?

“I could never hate you, Kiri. I promise it’s okay. You had to deal with this for so long.. my poor Kiri..” you coo at him, running your free hand down his abdomen.

He gazes at you, a lovesick expression plastered on his face. The use of “my” makes his stomach turn. He wants your love. Your praise.

You start to fondle his balls as you stroke his cock, causing him to twitch occasionally. His mouth falls agape slightly, his head falling forward.

“Ah.. it’s.. c-coming..” he whimpers quietly, petting your head gently. His breathing is irregular now, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. He’s so cute, this unknown side of him.

“W-wanna be.. yours.. Y/N. Nobody else… let me, Y/N.. please.” He begins begging. You keep jerking him off, his legs getting weaker each stroke but he keeps thrusting his hips into your hand.

“Y/N please.. close.. r-really close..” your long nails trace his defined abs as you run your thumb over his pink tip, pulling loud moans from the red haired boy. He’s already been caught, might as well be as loud as he wants.

“C-cumming..! Y/N.. a-ah..!” He cries out, holding onto your shoulders for stability, his legs shaking. He squints his eyes and grits his teeth, his veined cock jumping each time it releases a thick spurt of cum. Kirishima is extremely sensitive to touch, his entire body twitching as he cries and whimpers shamelessly.

“F-fuck! T-thank you.. Y/N.. l-love you..!” Did he mean that? Or is he just lost in the overwhelming pleasure? You continue to stroke him through his high, careful not to overstimulate the sweet boy. Still thanking you, he begins to regulate his breathing.

You smile at him, noticing his flushed face and built body. He helps you off the floor, shyly looking away. You assure him that his feelings for you are reciprocated, and you would love for him to be your boyfriend, although it should be spoken about at a better time.

Still, you can feel the strong arousal radiating off of him. He wants more. A lot more, but he doesn’t want to overstep your boundaries. The tension in the air is electrifying, both of you understanding that the other wants them just as bad. You want him so bad. But are either of you guys ready to take it to the next step?

Part 2 or nah 🌚

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my-writings-and-musings · 1 year ago

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Transformers ROTB

Mirage x Reader

(Hurt/Comfort)

It's a billion degrees here so thinking is hard and I've been imagining cold... This fic of Mirage keeper reader warm after a snowy rescue was born. As the last fic proves, I just love writing Mirage cuddles, and can you blame me?

Look at him. Absolute cuddlebug. Has to be.

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Everything was cold and aching when you came to, but considering you'd expected not to wake up at all, you could tentatively call that a win. Too exhausted and pained to shiver, you cracked your eyes open as sounds finally drifted into focus. A blue figure moved through the darkness with curses of frantic frustration, their inhumanly large frame bent over a pile of damp wood they were having no luck lighting. Recognizing their familiar shade of blue in the brief flashes of light from their attempted fire, you perked up despite your exhaustion.

"Mirage?"

The mech snapped his helm around, optics wider than you'd ever seen them as he looked at you in total disbelief.

"Hey, you're not dead!" he gushed as he crawled across the cave, looking so overjoyed he must not have believed you'd ever speak again. Too worn out and stiff to chuckle, you managed to crack a smile as the mech leaned over you, seemingly drinking in your presence as if he hadn't seen you in ages. Not having the slightest clue how you'd gotten here, you found your head free of worry despite your injuries, and you couldn't resist the urge to crack a joke.

"Should I be?"

"No, definitely not! Don't you go getting any ideas!" Mirage replied, his tone a solid mix of playful admonishment and serious warning. Adjusting a small emergency blanket that you'd been loosely swaddled in, he fretted long enough for you to pick up on his worry despite the continued jokes. "I've busted my aft keeping you alive this long, you don't get to put all my hard work to waste."

"What happened?" you asked as you tried to hug the blanket closer, numb fingers making it nearly impossible. Confused but able to recall a blurry series of events, the lack of other Autobots stuck out to you, especially when you remembered the whole group had been together in battle the last time you'd seen them. Not seeing a single other being in the cave activated your worry. "Where's-?"

"Shhh, questions take stamina you can't spare. I'll do the talking for both of us." Mirage interrupted gently, still teasing but sounding much softer as he encouraged you to lie back. The warmth of his servo and the comfort of his much larger frame beside yours allowed you to relax and listen, but as you did so It became apparent you were still quite exhausted, and you had to fight the urge to sleep. A fascinating narrative made consciousness stick around despite your heavy eyelids. "It took some expert tracking, but Bee was able to find two sets of tracks; a big ugly bot and the human he was tearing after. Unfortunately enough for him, we found him first."

Now you could remember how you'd gotten into this mess; running from a Decepticon and trying to lose them in the dense, frozen forest... The last thing you'd seen of Mirage had been the main battle, and you couldn't even begin to recall how long you'd been out in the cold, but it was good to know everything had more or less worked out. If only you weren't so terribly cold...

"I don't know how you outran him, but you were sorta... asleep and awake when we found you, so cold you weren't even shivering. We called Noah, and he's arranging to meet Optimus somewhere "clandestine" and escort a medic this way. They're gonna look you over and then pretend they didn't see us." Mirage continued. Nodding in incomplete understanding, you tried to keep your eyes open, and would have yawned if you'd had the strength. You knew what was being said meant a lot to you, and that a doctor was very much in order, but it all felt so far away. Aching body going increasingly numb, you barely found the strength to reply.

"Thank you..." you croaked, so terribly tired you couldn't convince yourself that staying awake was worth it. Mirage reacted swiftly, cupping his hand behind your head and looking into your eyes. The fear in his optics made you yearn for the energy to comfort him, but as it was you couldn't even understand why he was so upset.

"Don't thank me, just stay awake, yeah?" he encouraged, positive facade crumbling as he scooped you up in a panic. Feeling his chest, which radiated a reduced but still appreciable amount of warmth, you sighed and leaned into his embrace. The speedster held you tightly against him, digits patting your cheek as he tried to get you to focus on him. "Talk to me, Y/N, tell me what I can do."

"Cold..." was all you could say, exhaustion all but dragging you down into unconsciousness. Only your desire not to upset him kept you awake, but you knew there was precious little fight left in you. Mirage frantically reached back to the damp wood he'd been attempting to dry and ignite with his blaster.

"Okay, okay... I can... Scrap, I can't get this to light!" he cried in briefly hopeless frustration, his servo transforming back into a limb so he could hold you close to share what little warmth he had to spare. The pain in his expression compelled you to comfort him, but you didn't have the strength to do anything but lay your hand on the glowing center of his chest. You only wanted him to know it was alright, but the mech took much more from the gesture, his optics widening before his brows furrowed in determination. "Plan B then; come here."

Snapping open his chest panels and revealing the beautiful yet surprisingly soft glow of his spark, he pulled you close, allowing you to practically snuggle against the heat generating essence of his being.

"Sorry if this is weird... but it's warm, right?" he said quickly, aware of the awkward intimacy even if the situation was desperate. Being held so close allowed you to finally thaw after hours of exposure, and the feeling of life returning to your limbs was soothing enough to compel you to sigh. Cradling you tightly against his spark, Mirage sat back against the cave wall and relaxed at your increasingly less pallid complexion, returning to a more playful tone filled with affection. "My spark always runs hot, part of being an Outlier. I'll keep you close until the doc gets here. Least I can do for my little space heater."

Smiling back at the joke, you sighed once more and touched your hand to his spark, able to feel the soft hum soothing your aching body. As much as you still yearned for sleep, being so close gave you the strength to stay awake a little longer, the growing ease in his frame compelling you to keep going for both your sakes. A tender cupping of your face helped make you all the more certain that everything was going to be alright.

Mirage continued to encourage you, the devotion in his spark more than warm enough to keep the dark, frigid cold of the cave at bay. "You just keep getting nice and toasty. I've got you..."

#transformers #maccadam #tf #mirage x reader #tf mirage #rotb mirage #transformers rotb #tf rotb #rotb #transformers: rise of the beasts #rise of the beasts #human reader #self insert #transformers x reader #x reader #hurt/comfort #fluff

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haikyu-mp4 · 3 days ago

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Stable foundation

You and Aone are good cop + bad cop when your daughter acts up, for my Parenting event<3

requested by @dira333. word count; 644 – f!reader

Your daughter is generally a saint, calm and kind like her dad, creative and sweet like you. However, every parent has to scold their child sometimes, and your daughter really did it this time. The two of you stood in front of your newly decorated hallway, your son in another room doing his homework and probably completely uninterested.

It wasn’t supposed to be newly decorated. Your daughter had taken it upon herself to un-whiten the walls with oily crayons and waterproof markers that would definitely be a pain to remove, if you didn’t have to just paint it over.

“No!” you yelled on instinct when you walked past the hallway and saw her sitting there with her art supplies. At the sound of your indignation, Aone stuck his head around the corner in a silent question before coming fully into the room to see.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate.”

“We have so much paper, why would you draw on the walls?” you asked rhetorically, the frustration clear in your voice and making your daughter tear up quickly. She stood up, holding her hands out and wiggling her fingers as if presenting a masterpiece.

You looked at your husband with furrowed brows, only to find he was looking at you for help already. It would have made you laugh, hadn’t you been so frustrated. Aone cleared his throat. “It’s a really nice drawing, but now we can’t frame it.”

Pursing your lips, you were between cooing and scolding. If that was his biggest worry, you sure chose a good husband.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, pouting and dropping the red and green crayon she previously held in one hand to make a double line.

While you picked the girl up so she couldn’t do any more damage, Aone went to pick up her supplies and put them away. “You can not draw on the walls,” you told her, strict voice having even more effect now that she was in your arms and so close.

Her lip quivered, making her rub her face and smudging colour there too, so you tried to pull her arms away but she thrashed in your hold. Aone came over when the little girl yelled for him, resting a hand on her head to calm her cries.

“But mommy, you said you wanted to put more pictures on the walls,” she cried. You took in a sharp breath, now with your own welling tears as she so sorrowfully admitted to her kind intentions. She’s so much like her dad.

Two days ago, you had thrown out a comment to your husband about wanting more art on the walls and that you should buy more frames for your kids’ stuff.

“Let’s get you washed up,” Aone said, taking the girl from your arms and throwing you a reassuring smile.

While you took the time to calm down and assess the damage and how you would fix it, Aone helped her wash and then set her up with some food in the living room where her brother could watch her for a little while.

As he came back, you were slumped on the floor, stained washcloth in hand and about three different soaps laying around you. Aone noticed how the cleaning had ultimately made the damage worse and puffed out a breath of air before squatting beside you. He licked his thumb and rubbed away a smudge on your face, which reminded him much of your daughter a couple minutes ago, then ran his hand down your jaw to direct your eyes to his.

“It’s fine. I will paint it. She will learn.”

You were tired from work lately, so overwhelmed that things like this made the scale tip. That’s when you were glad to have such a stable husband.

“It’s fine,” you repeated like an affirmation.

Aone smiled. Another day of supporting his perfect family.

masterlist

for the requester: I haaad to make Aone good cop, that cutie.

#parenting event #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #hq #haikyuu x reader #fanfiction #haikyuu x you #haikyu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyu fluff #aone #aone takanobu x reader #aone takanobu #aone x reader #hq aone #haikyuu aone

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1d1195 · 9 months ago

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Protection Extra III

Read the rest here: Protection

This is set pretty far in the future. It was one of the first things that popped into my head about their cute little lives. I will go back in time too but I’ve been dying to write this.

~3.3k words

No warnings; all fluff. Just like an abundance of fluff. Tooth rotting, sugary cuteness.

Harry’s whole world was on that bed. There was no way he could leave then. Bad story or not.

“Mumma!” The little shout was from down the hall. Almost immediately her eyes opened, the maternal instinct kicking in before the first syllable left her lips. Carefully, she pulled herself from under Harry’s arm.

Thunder was the culprit. She should have known but she was tired when Harry came to bed and didn’t even notice the loud storm. Frowning, she hurried the few rooms over to the bedroom, a pep in her step because she was a little worried it was something worse than fear of the storm. Opening the bedroom door, she sighed, leaning against the doorframe and putting all her weight on her good leg—because even though it had been over half a decade since the injury, it still ached in the rain. “Hey Miss Petal,” she whispered softly. “S’matter, Violet?” She crept across the room feeling worse by the moment as she adjusted to the darkness—only half-lit by a flower shaped nightlight plugged in along the back wall. How could she have slept through the storm that made the five-year-old so sad?

The little one was frowning too. Not quite crying, but she was definitely watery-eyed. “M’scared,” she pouted.

“Of what, my love?” She asked scooping her into her arms and tucking her little face into the crook of her neck. She was warm and a little sweaty from being so scared. She gently cupped the back of her head, smoothing down her soft brown curls that she got from her father. Her lips brushed along Violet's hairline comfortingly.

“The thunder, it’s loud,” she explained. Her little pout was all Harry. It seemed sinful for someone as pretty as her to frown. She felt the same way when Harry frowned too.

“I’m sorry, Vi,” she hummed and started down the hall back for the other bedroom. Of course, with an achy leg and a child on her hip, she limped back a little more than she did on the way to her room. “It’s okay though. The storm can’t hurt you,” she reminded her. “Daddy and I would never let anything hurt you,” she promised. She would first use herself as a shield, then Harry if necessary. But she was certain if anything came close to danger of harming their daughter, Harry wouldn’t let it near either of them.

“S’wrong, loves?” Harry mumbled sleepily rubbing his eye hearing them enter the bedroom again.

“We’re just a little rattled by thunder,” she explained, her knee touching the bed frame indicating she made it back to her oasis, ready to snuggle with Harry. She slipped back into bed and placed the pretty little girl between them in the middle of the mattress.

Immediately, Harry reached out for his daughter. She was warm, adorable, and a little shaky with anxiety from the storm. She was a carbon copy of the love of his life just one little body away from him. Already brilliant—a little inquisitive genius, obsessed with plants and flowers. A scientist in the making with the kindest heart Harry had ever seen for a five-year-old. “Aw, petal,” Harry kissed her temple and pulled her closer. The thunder very nearly shook the house making her stiffen in his arms. “S’nothing, Violet,” he promised.

Without the nightlight, she had to reach out and feel for Violet's little face. Her finger traced the shape of her eyebrows, brushed her soft, tear-damp lashes, and felt her pouting little lip on her daughter’s face. “It’s loud,” she whispered to Harry. He nodded understandingly against her little frame and pulled her closer to him, snuggling so she pressed up against his torso. With one arm beneath his pillow, it stretched across the bed and grasped for his wife’s hand. “Miss Wildflower,” Harry said softly. “D’you think Miss Petal needs t’hear a story?” He asked.

She twined her fingers loosely with Harry’s beneath the pillow facing the two loves of her life. She smiled into the darkness as the thunder thrummed around them. She inched forward on the mattress and draped her other arm across their bodies. The cocoon of the warm bed and Harry’s protective body was already making the little one very sleepy.

She glanced at the clock. It was a little after midnight. Still plenty of time to sleep. “What do you think, Miss Petal?” She asked.

Harry felt her nod against his chest. “Mumma’s boo-boo,” she said softly.

It was one of Harry’s least favorite stories. He hadn't heard her tell it once since Violet was born. “Not that one, Vi,” he nearly groaned.

“I’ll tell it,” she offered immediately.

“Kitten, honey,” he warned quietly.

“Shh, it’s late. Let me tell it so we can go to sleep.”

“Daddy doesn’t like that story, Mumma,” Violet explained a knowing tone in her voice.

“Is that so?” She asked, wishing she could see Harry’s facial expression. Having seen it a thousand times over, she knew it was that deep set frown that made her stomach hurt with the need to fix it. It was the same one he had when they visited Anne and Gemma for their first Christmas; agonized over a bad dream from one of the first nights they spent together in his childhood bedroom.

“He doesn’t know it,” Violet explained.

“Really?” She whispered in surprise a smirk toying at the corners of her mouth. It was dark, but Harry didn’t need to see her to know there was a smirk on her face. That same knowing one she wore on her lips the day he met her.

Oh, I get it. She had said to him leaning against the door frame of her flowery apartment. Send someone young so I relate to them. Someone that will understand my attitude.

“Maybe we should jus’ go t’sleep, Miss Petal,” Harry warned the little one with the same tone as he used with her mum.

“Not without a story, Daddy,” Violet pleaded. “Mumma will tell it, I always ask her to tell it since you don’t like it.”

Harry sighed, too tired to argue. “Alright.”

Violet rotated so her back was pressed to Harry’s body, caged beneath the arm that previously held his wife in place before the little one woke her. Harry wished he had heard her shout. When Violet came to bed with Harry, they didn’t team up against him and trick him into telling the bad story. Normally Harry left the room. But it was after midnight, and they were snuggled beneath a warm blanket. When he picked her up from her room and brought her back to sleep, Miss Wildflower usually remained asleep—even when Violet insisted on kissing Mumma on the cheek before cuddling into Harry and drifting off to dreamland.

Harry’s whole world was on that bed. There was no way he could leave then. Bad story or not.

She squeezed Harry’s hand reassuringly. “This is the abridged version, Vi. No tricks,” she whispered knowingly to her.

“What’s a bridge? Is there a new part?” She asked, excitement in her voice. With each retelling a new little detail was added—it was usually miniscule. Violet was still young. Truthfully, as much as she had joked about telling their future kids about it when it happened, she wasn’t sure she would ever want Violet to know Harry put a bullet in her—even if it was to protect her.

Many of the new details involved solidifying the clues she left behind for Harry to find and how he figured it out. Like a scavenger hunt. Violet had said when she heard about it. She loved to tell the story. Reliving the joy in Harry’s fearlessness even if he hated the story. She thought he was exceedingly brave, even if he didn’t feel that way. To her it showcased all the courageous and strong attributes Harry had and all the things he would always do to protect their little family.

The thunder cracked causing a little yelp to escape her throat. She snuggled further into her Dad��s body. Harry chuckled. “Means shorter story, petal,” he whispered kissing the back of her soft, wispy hair.

“Okay, Mumma,” she said softly with a frown in her voice.

“Once upon a time,” she began. “I was being babysat by a group of really awful people who didn’t like me.”

Harry snorted. “S’this how y’always start it?”

“Shh, Daddy,” Violet chided. “Except Uncle Niall and Daddy,” she completed the opening.

“Right, except Uncle Niall and Daddy," a brief pause. "I was really grumpy," she whispered to the little one. "They wouldn't let me do what I wanted to do."

"Because of the yucky protocols," he could feel Violet nod against him as if she was there whenever she said she hated protocol.

“Kitten, s'not fair,” Harry muttered in warning. The girls ignored him.

“After Daddy had been babysitting me for months and getting me out of trouble way more times than he ever thought he’d have to handle...we fell in love,” she leaned in and peppered Violet's face with little kisses. The little one giggled while Harry felt a flood of warmth take over his body. Harry liked that part. He smirked, remembering all the havoc and chaos that ensued during the first few months of his new job. Falling in love with her was the easiest thing in the world. “But then..." Harry felt nothing but dread replace the warmth he had previously felt. All the reasons he knew he hated this story were coming. "I overheard a conversation from someone that really didn’t like me,” her voice barely reached his ears she spoke so softly. “I had to tell Daddy to leave me alone so he wouldn’t get hurt.” Harry felt the same pang of hurt and anguish that pierced him the day Niall told him all about the letter she had sent. The one that led to the longest week of his life. That week included beating out the second longest week of his life when Miss Violet had the flu and he wanted nothing more than to rip the illness out of her body and put it in his own. “Daddy didn’t like that,” she whispered knowingly into the darkness. Harry was silent.

“Mumma said you cried, Daddy,” Violet's soft tone was hushed quietly.

“That was a secret, petal,” she reminded her back in another whisper.

“Oops,” she giggled.

Harry rolled his eyes ignoring the little exchange.

Even if it was adorable.

Plus, he did cry.

“The bad guys took me to a place to keep me hidden from Daddy. But Daddy is a really good detective, and he would never ever let me leave him for that long,” her voice was so solid. Even as a whisper. Harry felt his throat close around a lump of emotion. If he wanted to protest the story—which now he didn’t—he wouldn’t have been able to. “So Daddy found me,” she continued. “It was a really scary moment. But I knew Daddy would keep me safe. Do you remember how I knew?”

“Daddy wouldn’t let anything hurt you..." Violet responded immediately. It was practiced. Like a mantra. "He won't let anything hurt me either,” Violet nodded firmly. She already knew this part too. Harry twisted the diamond wedding ring on her left finger below the pillow and tried to push the emotion down, desperately trying to remember that this was the bad story. The one he hated to think about.

But he hadn’t heard her tell the story before.

She made it beautiful. Something so awful and something that broke his heart just to think about—she made it bloom into something wonderful.

It was very typical for his Miss Wildflower.

“I got a really bad boo-boo,” she reminded Violet. Harry squeezed her hand and tried not to think too much about it....even though every once in a while, (typically around the anniversary that he was sure he was the only one between the two of them who remembered), Harry still had nightmares of her losing all that blood in a puddle that made him feel nauseous and broken as if it was the day before.

“But, Daddy fixed it,” Violet sounded like she was telling a secret.

“He always does,” she answered.

Harry really thought he would cry now.

“That’s why Mumma has an owie on her leg, Daddy,” Violet whispered.

“Mmm,” as if Harry could forget. She squeezed his hand and smiled in the dark.

“It doesn’t hurt though,” she promised Violet—but Harry knew she was speaking to him and not their daughter.

“Except when it rains,” Harry mumbled bitterly.

“Daddy saved my life,” she ignored her husband's cranky tone. “Every single time I needed him,” the reminder wasn't for Violet, but for Harry. “So thunder?” she shook her head with nonchalant shrug that neither could see. “That’s nothing. Daddy would and could take on a whole storm for you.”

Harry squeezed her hand unable to form adequate words that he loved her so much for making the story sound like he was the hero when he still, very much did not feel like one.

“Finish the story, Mumma,” Violet yawned almost asleep.

“Daddy and I went to Grandma’s and Auntie Gem played with us. We celebrated Christmas and ate lots of yummy cookies. When I got all better we came home and lived happily ever after. Then baby Violet came along and made our lives even better. Now we tell stories together in the dark to keep the thunder away,” her voice got quieter and softer until Violet didn’t respond, her little breath coming out in soft little pants. “I love you, Harry Styles,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” Harry croaked.

She gave his hand a squeeze before drifting back to sleep.

It hadn’t rained in a week and while it was still fairly cold out, there wasn’t any rain in the forecast either. Yet she had been limping for over a week. It was nearly the holiday season, which, as lovely as it was, it was also the dreaded anniversary. It had Harry wondering if this was some brand of punishment he could never fully atone for.

Harry had left The Wildflower in the capable hands of his employees making Christmas flower arrangements for dinner parties and gifts in the form of lovely bouquets. She left her green pen and the stack of Bio-Chem exams on the kitchen table to take a break and spend time with Harry and Violet.

Christmas shopping; the goal was to find something for Grandma, Auntie Gem, and Uncle Niall. But someone kept finding presents that she wanted to ask Santa for...in a second list. Naturally, Santa had a hard time denying the little love of anything she wanted. She was certain Harry had already ordered everything on his phone as she pointed to items in windows and in shops.

Santa loved to spoil Miss Petal.

Harry and Violet were ahead of her on the sidewalk while she limped along. “Mumma,” Violet giggled. “You’re taking too long.”

“S’not very nice, petal,” Harry frowned. “Mumma’s leg hurts.”

“I’m okay,” she promised with a smile catching up. “Just moving slow.”

Harry looked her up and down admiring how beautiful and lovely she was, which made her skin warm every inch of her body. She was sure she flushed a dark red on her cheeks which Harry smirked despite the fact he was disappointed in himself for being the reason she was so hurt. “Is it your new tattoo, Mumma?”

Harry stopped in his tracks turning to the woman that not even his young self could have dreamed of if he had met her when they were young. “Mumma doesn’t have tattoos,” Harry murmured looking right at her as he spoke to Violet.

She smiled. “I was waiting till it healed, love bug, remember?”

Violet giggled. “Oops,” she smiled.

Rolling her eyes, she shrugged at Harry. “I’ll show you when we get home.”

It took every bit of self-control to remind himself that he wasn’t in his twenties. He was a parent with a five-year-old in front of him and he couldn't scoop her up off the sidewalk as he had done so many times on the very road and hurry back to the car to get her home and under her skirt.

Their imaginative little girl liked to play and didn’t mind playing alone. She would draw, color, and even read the same story books she had been practicing reading with Mumma and Daddy.

Which was particularly great right then. It allowed Harry to slide his wife’s long skirt up over her hips and examine the plastic wrapping around the circumference of her thigh. Harry felt emotion choke his vocal cords. He pressed his lips together and sniffed awkwardly. “S’that y’got there, kitten?” He asked.

“A garden,” she smiled sweetly.

“Hmm?” His fingers pressed gently around the plastic to get a better angle. He was accustomed to tattoos, knew how to take care of them and mind them so as not to irritate the fresh ones. “Miss Wildflower’s got a garden?” He asked, heart skipping beats as he scanned the array of little stick flowers lining her thigh. There were a dozen or so little flowers. But three prominent ones in the foreground. Most importantly, one flower from where the bullet had left a scar. Petals surrounding the circular mark.

“Remember when we helped Vi draw a flower garden?” She asked.

Harry nodded even though he had drawn so many pictures with Violet, he wasn’t sure he could pinpoint it exactly. Harry couldn’t move his gaze from her thigh. “Is that...my flower?” He whispered.

She smiled; a light, airy laugh fell from her beautiful lips. “Of course, it is, baby,” she whispered back.

He clenched his jaw trying to keep his emotions from bubbling over. He pressed his fingers lightly over the plastic, brushing softly on the scar that broke his heart each time he looked at it. Harry could hear Violet singing to herself—a song she made up about her dolls. His life was perfect. He had the most lovely daughter.

Perhaps he was the first man in history to have the perfect wife. Gorgeous, intelligent, a wonderful mother, the kindest soul, and the feistiest banter when needed. When he still felt crummy about hurting her, she made it better. Every single time. “I don’t know how m'supposed t'keep loving y’more and more, but y’always manage,” he murmured clearing his throat and cupping her face in his hands.

She smiled up at him, bringing her face closer to his brushing her nose against his. “This really handsome guy on my security detail way back when told me once that wildflowers grow and light up the side of the road even if it’s not a pretty road..." she started. "I didn't know you always left when I told that story," she whispered. "You can't possibly still feel guilty about it, baby. I've..." she shook her head. "You saved my life."

"I almost killed you—it would have killed me."

She smirked. "I have never thought this scar was ugly. But I know you hate it. So I hope you think the wildflowers brighten it for you. It glued us together. Brought us our little petal," she smiled listening to Violet's a verse begin louder than the first few about her new doll—a welcome to her toy box.

Harry felt his heart ache like something he hadn’t ever felt before. “I love you, Miss Wildflower.”

“I love you,” she giggled and leaned in to kiss him way deeper than she should have with an alert five-year-old in the room over.

But she couldn’t help it. With the love of her life attached to her lips there she couldn't bring herself to care at all.

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pubbybutch · 1 year ago

Note

i don’t know if this is a weird request but it’s also my first one.

but i had the idea of abby coming home from a long shift at work, and she finds reader trying to make themself cum?

it just popped into my head and i need it to come to life 🙏🙏

No anon cause I love this trope so much, thank you for trusting me with your first request (ur doing great sweetie!)

(Hope you don’t mind an AU btw <3)

Word Count: 1600 (technically not a drabble ig)

CW: Doctor AU, Abby is a sexy doctor, Strap usage (R! Receiving), AFAB reader, Feminine nicknames used, cowgirl position, tried to keep it race/ethnicity inclusive, mentions of Abby trying to keep you healthy and sleeping well.

No Minors, Men, or general Cunts.

If you see spelling mistakes, no you didn’t. 💚

Abby is tired. And pissed off. But mainly she’s tired, with sore feet and a pounding headache, not helped by the wind howling outside the car causing the rain to beat down heavily on the wind screen. From having to prevent a kid with a broken arm from crying a flood as he called his mom to stopping the blood pouring out of a woman’s intimate parts in the emergency department. It was a very long day.

After running into the house from her now parked car, she pushes the trainers off her feet and takes in the dark hallway, walking back into the kitchen she notices a plate of chilli chicken and rice with a little sticky note attached to the cling film covering the food, ‘gone to bed, eat before you come up <3’ .

She smiled at the note and placed the food in the microwave, yawning as she watched the orange glow and the spinning of the plate in the little metal box. Bed couldn’t come soon enough, but she definitely wasn’t going to face the wrath of a wife scorned by her not eating her delicious food. Made with love, by her love. The blonde was always a bit love struck when sleep deprived.

Inhaling the food and making the executive decision to leave the dishes until the morning, the blonde trudges up the stairs with her feet heavy and her head even heavier. It’s not until she gets to the top of the stairs does she hear the creaking of a bed and hushed whimpers coming from your shared bedroom. She pulls her phone from her pocket and checks the time, ‘00:37’. You should be fast asleep by now.

Peaking her head around the door, not even having to push it open due to you leaving it ajar, she captures what can only be described as a beautiful sight. Abbys pretty little wife lays there. With one of your hands pumping her fingers in and out of your sopping wet cunt with such force your breasts and tummy jiggle lightly with each movement. Your other hand draped over your eyes, shielding you from Abby’s piercing blue gaze. She stands there and watches, leaning against the door frame, enjoying the view and appreciating every little huff and moan leaving your lips.

Finally deciding you’d had enough fun, Abby clears her throat. You jump. Your hand pulls away from your cunt, a shiver running through you as your body yearns to be full again.

“Mrs Anderson,” Abby starts, “you couldn’t wait for me to come home, could you?” Despite her phrasing, it is not a question. It’s an order.

The blonde continues, “Did I not tell you that you were to catch up on sleep, Mrs Anderson?” She tilts her head this time, prompting you to answer. “Yes, Abby…”

“And did you follow the doctor’s orders, pumpkin?”

“No, Abby.” The heat rising up your neck and slithering across your cheeks is a dead give away to Abby as she takes your face in one of her hands, her long, thick thumb rubbing soothing circles onto your cheekbone.

“Since you’re already up, it must mean you’re not tired? Am I right, sweetheart?” The blonde releases you face and takes a step backwards to take all of you in once more.

“Abby I-”

She interrupts you, “Well. Im tired. I’ve had a very long day, sweetheart so if you want to get off, it’s on my terms, we got a deal?” As she speaks she shrugs off her undershirt and undoes the button on her jeans. She watches as you nod and reach out for her, arms outstretched and hands making little grabby motions to try and get her close again. Be grudgingly she steps forward and out of the jeans pooling around her ankles.

Abby is left in her boxer briefs and a white cotton bra as she wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you away from the center of the bed and dropping you on the edge of the mattress. Gripping your chin and pulling your face so that your gaze meets hers, she smirks down at you. “Stay there. Don’t move okay, baby?”

You nod and watch as she goes to the build in wardrobe, her broad shoulders flexing as a hand moves to take the elastic band from the end of her braid, as her hand reaches into the drawer looking for something.

With her hair loose and a harness in her hands Abby slides the leather straps over her hips and into place. Turning back to you, you’re able to see the cock she’s chosen. As she walks forward you come face to phallus with nine inches of dark purple silicone. “You wanna get it wet for me, baby?”

Instead of answering, you slip a hand around the harness and pull her close enough so you can take her length into your mouth. Abby smiles warmly as she watches you only managing to get about half way down the strap, her blue eyes creasing at the edges as you wrap your hand around what you can’t fit in and start rubbing along the shaft. The sight sends a low moan rumbling from Abby’s chest. With a pop, your mouth lets go of the blonde’s cock as she takes a step back and watches as a line of spit connecting the silicone to your bruised lips breaks.

Abby kisses your forehead and sits down on the bed beside you, a blink and you’ll miss it ‘good girl’ falls from her lips as she situates herself against the pillows at the head of the bed. Her finger makes a curling motion, calling you over. Sliding up to sit next her, a hand grips your hips, “Get on top, sweetheart.”

“Abby, I want you to be on top-”

“And I want to go to bed, but since you’re being a needy little brat and not waiting for me to come home before fucking yourself.” She gives your hips a squeeze and continues, “And not listening to me when I tell you that you need more sleep. So now, you’re going to get to cum, but on my grounds. On doctors orders. Okay, baby?”

You nod and move to get straddle Abby’s hips, only to have her reach up and yank you down by the nape of your neck. “I said ‘okay, baby?’ It wasn’t rhetorical.”

“Okay Abby.” She kisses you square on the the lips and let’s you climb up on to her hips, she leans back and watches as you line yourself up with her cock and lower yourself onto the plastic. A tight smirk graces the blonde’s face as she listens intently on the hasty breaths you give out as you become re-accustomed to the stretch that this particular dildo always gives you. As you move your hips up and down, mewls and pants come flooding from your mouth. That knotting tension that never truly left your abdomen from your solo session had returned with what can only be described as a vengeance.

Bouncing up and down on Abby’s cock, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer. Blue eyes scan your whole body, one large rough hand resting on your hip as it helps guide your movements, the other holding one of your tits squeezing the flesh and every so often tugging the hardened nipple as her thumb ran over the sensitive flesh.

Abby’s hips remain surprisingly still, despite your pleas and begging, her stance stays unwavering. This entire session was most definitely on her grounds. Though her body remains relaxed yet unmoving, Abby’s eyes are burning with intensity you can clearly see it, the bubbling want and desperation underneath the stoney exterior.

“Abby-” you huff, exhaustion hits as your desperate moans are met with nothing but raised eyebrows and the occasional ‘yes, princess’.

“I wanna cum, please can I?”

“You’re asking permission, baby? And without being told, oh sweetheart, you can cum anytime you want.”

Without another word your hips slam down against Abby’s, the strap hitting impossibly deep inside as you cum, you rest on top of her. Folding over, you find your head resting underneath your wife’s chin as thick fingers come to the back of your head and her short nails give gentle scratches to your scalp, relaxing you further into the blonde’s firm, broad chest.

Pulling yourself away from Abby and off of her hips you see a creamy ring coating the hilt of the strap as you pull away from your wife. A heat rises to your cheeks once more as Abby sits up properly in the bed and yanks you down into her arms. “Thank you, baby. You did so good.”

Snuggling into her side, you kiss her cheek and strong square jawline as she loosens and slides the harness from her hips.

“Long day, doctor?” Your teasing brings a soft tired smile to Abby’s face as she lets herself yawn. “Like you wouldn’t believe, sweetheart.”

She turns to you, blue eyes staring into yours, deep icy pools that hold such love in them you can’t imagine them ever being cold, “I’m sorry if I was too pushy.”

You laugh and pull the covers up to surround the two of you, “Abigail. We have a safe word for a reason.”

“I know it’s just that-”

You shut her up with a kiss, and once you break it she seems to be content that you had enjoyed the evening, even before she got home. Content and with reassurance, Abby falls asleep and her little wife too.

☘️🦖☘️🦖☘️🦖☘️

Remember Reblogs make the World Go Round

REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN 💚

#abby anderson #tlou x reader #abby anderson x reader #drabble #abby anderson fan fiction #abby anderson smut #anon ask

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melodygatesauthor · 1 year ago

Text

Always Yours, Never Mine

Yandere Miguel O'Hara X f!Reader

Universe Two - The Barista

Series Masterlist - Beta Read by @campingwiththecharmings

Summary

I didn’t even test the DNA analysis module on the watch before I left my universe. Idiotic? Definitely, but I was so excited by the thought of seeing you again that I didn’t care. So I tested it when I got to the new universe, using the watch to scan one of your hairs and then using that data to track you down…I can't believe I found you again.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, dub-con due to identity issues, non-con, rape, More tags on the masterlist.

Word Count: 5.4k

It was a morning like every other.

You opened your eyes to the sound of your alarm blaring next to you. You hit the snooze button, probably too harshly, before promptly burying your face in your palms. Sometimes you thought that if you just laid there long enough, all your responsibilities would disappear. A moment later, the alarm went off again, reminding you that it was time to get up, for real this time. After fantasizing about ripping it from the wall and breaking it into a thousand pieces, you turned it off and rolled out of bed.

You stepped out into the living room, smelling the coffee brewing in the pot already. Your step-sister, and roommate, Emily, was flipping through the channels on the tv in the living room.

“Mornin’,” you mumbled, grabbing the hot cup she’d left for you on the breakfast bar.

“Morning!” She turned around to face you while you sipped from your mug. “The ‘rents wanted to go out for dinner tonight, you in?”

You groaned, trudging over to the armchair in the living room and sitting down, taking another sip of your coffee. You stared at the television idly, not really taking any of it in. You thought about your impending workday. You sighed heavily, the idea of ending your long day by having dinner with your parents exhausting.

“I don’t really want to, I’m gonna be tired after work but…I guess I can pull myself together for a couple hours.”

“Thanks, I don’t really wanna go alone.” She sniffed out a laugh, “you should bring that guy you’ve been seeing, might be a good time for them to meet him.”

You gave her the look. The look that said, ‘no way in hell am I introducing him to our parents’.

“I’m not ready to subject him to that just yet.”

“Fair,” she said with a shrug, turning the volume up on the tv and thus ending the conversation.

You finished your coffee before getting yourself ready for the day. You looked in the mirror on your bedroom door, adjusting your nametag pinned through your apron next to the Moonbean Coffee logo. The company aprons felt so frumpy on your frame and you hated the shade of brown the owner had picked out, but you supposed it was better than not having a job to begin with.

“See ya later!” You said on your way out.

You arrived just before seven for your shift. Your co-workers, Stacy and Mira, were there already, baking sweets and brewing coffee for the morning rush. You flipped the “open” sign around and went behind the counter in preparation for the under-caffeinated stampede. Stacy always made some comment to you about ‘opening the floodgates’ whenever you came in, since that was always the moment customers started pouring in.

You were sweaty by the end of the rush. It felt to you like that was often the time that he seemed to make his appearance. You’d talked to him about it before, telling him to come in first thing with the other customers if he wanted you to look your best. ‘You always look your best, hermosa’, he’d say, suave as ever.

Miguel walked in. The smell of coffee hit him like a ton of bricks, but then so did your face.

It had been a year and a half since he’d seen you. A fucking year and a half. His breath caught in his chest and his lips parted slightly. He felt like he was seeing you for the first time. In some weird way, he was seeing you for the first time. This version of you anyway.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you gonna come get your coffee?” You giggled and started making his usual cup.

There was that sound again.

He thought he’d never hear your laugh for the rest of his days. In his universe, he’d replayed videos of when you were alive over and over to take the edge off, but nothing compared to the real thing when it hit his ears. He watched you make his coffee. You’d made it wrong, but he’d expected that when traveling to another dimension things wouldn’t always be quite right. He didn’t care, as long as he found the universe where you lived; that’s all that mattered to him.

“Are you gonna say something or just stare at me?” You laughed at him nervously.

“I’m sorry I’m just…having a rough morning,” he held up his cup, “haven’t had my coffee yet,” he said jokingly.

You’d thought about Emily’s suggestion to have him join you and your parents for dinner, and figured she was right. You liked this guy. This impossibly tall, broad, and handsome physicist who seemed to be smitten with you no matter how gross you looked after a long shift at the coffee shop.

“I’ve been thinking, and no obligation if you don’t want to, I understand, but…my parents invited my step-sister and me out for dinner tonight and…” You trailed off, feeling nervous, “do you…would you wanna–”

“Yes, I’d love to,” he blurted out.

He felt like such an idiot. It wasn’t like him to get flustered like this, but something about you made him feel like the space between his ears was filled with nothing but hot air. He saw you press your lips together bashfully, and noticed the way your eyes seemed to sparkle when you looked at him. You’d always told him that he was special to you; that he was different from other guys you’d dated, he’d just never paid attention to the small details like this back then.

“Great, it’s at the new steak place up the road from here. Six pm, please don’t be late,” you said in a pleading tone.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, honey.”

There were customers coming in and he decided it was time for him to go. He had a dinner date to get ready for afterall. The fluttering in his stomach from seeing you wasn’t something he’d felt in a long time, and he’d missed it. It was hard to break away, but he kissed the back of your hand and started to leave anyway.

“Hey!” You shouted.

He turned back around, “Hm?”

“No kiss?” You put your hands on your hips.

You…you wanted a…

He gulped. “S-sorry, thinking about work,” he lied.

He walked up to you and leaned over the counter and you took his face in your hands.

You touched him. It had been so long since you’d touched him.

You pressed your lips to his softly, and for a moment, he tensed. Once he relaxed, he leaned in, parting his lips and melting them against yours. He never thought he’d kiss you again. Miguel sighed with joyous relief when the kiss broke, choking back the tears that threatened to fall.

“See you later,” you said, patting his wide chest before watching him walk away.

As Miguel stepped outside and started down the sidewalk, he passed someone on his left. It didn’t hit him right away until he realized that the man was as unnaturally tall as himself. Miguel stopped dead in his tracks, looking back at the man as he headed toward the coffee shop he’d just walked out of. It was…oh no…

You looked up from the coffee cup you were putting someone’s name on to see Miguel come back inside. You smirked and let out a chuckle.

“Forget something?” You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure why he’d returned. He had a huge smile as he walked up to you and leaned against the counter.

“Hola, hermosa,” he said, “I’ll take my usual, if you don’t mind.”

“What…?” you felt uneasy.

Lots of people had memory problems right? You and Miguel had only been dating for a couple months, so you didn’t know all there was to know about him. Maybe he suffered from short term memory loss or something. Not to mention, you knew he was a scientist. It was possible he’d suffered some brain injury in the lab or something…right? You couldn’t be sure, but your intuition was telling you that something was off; stupidly, you ignored it.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, looking at you with concern.

You cleared your throat, “Yeah, yes I’m fine.”

You faked a smile and made his coffee…again. When you handed it to him he smiled and sipped it. That’s when you realized he wasn’t wearing the same outfit he was wearing when he’d walked out of there just a moment earlier. Something wasn’t right. Were you losing your mind? Maybe he wasn’t the one with memory issues.

Miguel was a genius on paper. He could make a device that allowed him to travel the multiverse with only one minor flaw, but that didn’t mean he was immune to idiocy. He’d just watched that universe’s version of himself walk by and go right into the coffee shop where you worked. How could he be so stupid? If there was a version of you in every universe, then it was reasonable to assume that there would be a version of himself in every universe as well.

He had to do something about the doppelganger. Miguel couldn’t let him get in the way. He couldn’t let someone else, even if it was just an alternate version of himself, take you from him.

Later that evening, you were dressed and ready for dinner. You’d managed to shrug off the weird encounter you’d had with Miguel earlier, and decided that you would wait to bring it up after dinner with your parents, if at all. You really liked him, and didn’t want to mess it up over something as silly as his, or your own, forgetfulness.

You shook your head free of the thoughts that plagued you. It was just Miguel. Normal, loving, caring Miguel that you’d known and enjoyed spending time with over the last couple of months. With a sigh, you left, heading to the restaurant where your parents were already sitting with your step-sister. You decided to wait outside for him to arrive, having texted Emily earlier to let her know that you’d changed your mind about inviting Miguel after all.

God you looked beautiful.

Miguel felt a swell in his chest as he walked toward you on the sidewalk. You hadn’t noticed him yet. You were wearing a simple black dress that hugged your body nicely. You looked like you again. This was how you’d dressed in his universe when he would take you out somewhere nice. So fucking pretty.

When you finally noticed Miguel’s lingering gaze, you felt flustered. You tried to compose yourself as he approached, calming your fluttering stomach. You didn’t want to look like a bumbling idiot, not only in front of him, but in front of your parents too.

You cleared your throat when he got closer, “Ready?”

He nodded, looking down at you, “Oh you bet.”

“Oh! You’ve got something on your…” you furrowed your brow, eyes catching on a small red smear just below his ridiculously sharp cheek bone. “I’ll get it.”

You licked your thumb and wiped the mark off his face. He smirked until he saw your thumb covered in crimson. His mind flashed back to the events that had taken place over the last couple of hours…

Miguel was waiting silently behind a wall in the kitchen, having snuck into his alternate’s apartment, watching Miguel trying to decide what tie he was going to wear to dinner with your parents in a few hours. He felt bad for a second, knowing that if this man loved you even a fraction of the amount that he did, this would be disheartening when he realized he was going to die before he got to truly love you.

For someone normally so meticulous, Miguel hadn’t really thought this through. He’d rushed to follow the man home after his meeting with you at the coffee shop, and kept an eye on him throughout the day to get a feeling for his lifestyle so he could attempt to mimic it once he eliminated this universe’s version of himself.

The time had come for Miguel to kill his other self, and nothing could stop him now that he’d come this far. There was one perk to killing his alternate: even if someone discovered the body, or some poorly disposed of evidence, all the DNA would lead back to one person…himself. So it didn’t matter if he slit his own throat, snapped his own neck, or shot himself in the head. No one would ever know.

Miguel had never killed anyone before, but the more he thought about this other man - despite that ‘other man’ being himself - touching you, the angrier he got. He couldn’t bear the idea that you, his precious girl, might be giving someone else attention, and those thoughts alone were enough to fuel the fire that brought him to the brink of murder.

Miguel must’ve been so confused. For him it probably seemed like a normal evening at first. He probably had no idea he was about to die. He was going to shower, probably stress a little bit about how to impress your parents, and then start getting ready for the dinner date. It was all normal, until the shower curtain opened and he was greeted by his doppelganger who delivered several stab wounds to the man’s chest.

Miguel wondered what his other self was thinking in those last moments as the life faded from his eyes.

Cleanup took a while, but not so long that he couldn’t make it in time for dinner. Now he was in a predicament. You were standing there with blood on your thumb and a curious look on your face.

“Must’ve nicked myself shaving,” he chucked, rubbing his hand over his jaw, “Thank you, mi vida.”

He leaned in and kissed you, and despite him calling you ‘mi vida’, something he’d never called you before, you kissed him back. Regardless of the red flags flying in your face, you took his hand, smiled and walked into the restaurant with him to meet your parents.

Charming as always, Miguel impressed them with ease. It was like he knew them. He acted as though he were meeting up with old friends rather than meeting his girlfriend’s parents for the first time. It was so hard to find someone they actually liked so you threw every red flag of the day out the window and decided to move on. It was that simple.

When you asked Miguel to go back to his place that evening, instead of going to your own apartment, he was thrilled. He didn’t even wait for you to get your shoes off before he had you lifted off the ground, legs around his thick torso and pinned against the wall. He hadn’t felt the wet heat of your cunt in well over a year and he was desperate.

You’d never heard him like this, so primal and hungry. His heaving breathing was almost like a low growl. He lifted up the skirt of your dress, large hands grabbing onto your hips while his mouth left heavy kisses on your neck. You didn’t care if he was acting strangely, it felt so good that it didn’t matter.

He brought you to the bedroom and fell onto the mattress with you, hovering over your body while his hands continued their exploration. He was reveling in the delicious feeling of your soft skin; the skin he hadn’t touched in too long. He was loving the taste of you, it was almost the same…close enough anyway. He wanted to taste more of you.

He pulled down the strap of your dress and bra in one motion, exposing your breast. Miguel bit his lip and looked up at you, eyes full of a dark lust. You gasped when he brought his lips over the peak, rolling his tongue around the hardened, sensitive skin there. You brought both of your hands to his shoulders, squeezing them tightly, though you knew it probably felt like nothing to the overly muscular man. He flicked his tongue over you one more time before looking up again.

Miguel wanted to taste something else he hadn’t tasted in far too long, so he kept working his way down, lifting your skirt and hooking a finger under your delicate lace panties.

“You wore these just for me, didn’t you, hermosa?”

He used both hands to rip the thin fabric covering your already glistening, slick folds. He used one thick finger, sliding it through your slit and up, brushing over your clit gently. You gasped, throwing your head back. Miguel smirked, letting a dark chuckle escape. The other Miguel hadn’t been so giving with you, had he?

He hadn’t, and you noticed right away that Miguel was acting more focused on your body than before. But when you felt his mouth come down over your mound, warm and soft, you didn’t care. Whatever it was that made him act differently, you were living for it now. Red flags be damned.

“So sweet, mi vida,” he cooed, going back in for more like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

You were delicious, but wasn’t quite the same. There was something a little more sweet about this version of you, but it was alright. He could live with it. You still sounded the same, and you still looked the same, more or less. You grabbed onto the back of his head which made him smile against your folds. The feeling of you touching him made Miguel all the more eager to please you.

Miguel brought one of his thick fingers to your entrance, sliding it in with ease and feeling your cunt flutter around him in response. You whined, arching your hips to take him deeper. One perk to finding this new version of you, was showing himself up in the bedroom. He loved that you were coming undone under him like never before. The original you had been so used to his catering in the bedroom, but this one seemed impressed, and he liked that.

“Mm, hermosa, think you can take another one?” He asked, sliding in another finger to meet the first.

As he started pumping his fingers in and out of you, he noticed how much your body twitched and writhed. So sensitive, this one. He flicked his tongue rapidly over your swollen, needy clit. You were crying out words of affirmation repetitively, grabbing a fistful of his hair as you did. Your legs were shaking against his cheeks.

“Tres?”

He added another finger, and you were a gasping mess at his mercy. Your hole ached with the sweet stretch as he pumped his digits in and out faster. You’ve never known Miguel to do anything like this, but you weren’t complaining. This was the best sex of your life and he was still just playing with you. He curled his fingers, and you cried out, throwing your head back.

“F-fuck! Miguel…!”

He kept going, feeling the way your legs tensed and hearing the way your breathing got even heavier. His eyes trailed over your mound, up your beautiful torso to meet with your heartstopping eyes. You grabbed his hair so tight that he winced, but he didn’t stop lapping over your folds, knowing that you were about to come for him for the first time in a long time.

You’d never had an orgasm so intense it made you go cross-eyed before before, but there you were, shaking so hard you rattled the headboard. Your cunt was gushing and clenching around his fingers while he curled and dragged them over your walls through your climax. You fell back, breathing heavily, but Miguel wasn’t done with you yet.

“Come here honey,” he said in a husky tone, grabbing your hips and pulling you toward him.

Your body was still shaking from your release, and now he was running his length along your folds, collecting your arousal to make it slick. You looked up and saw him biting his lip through your tear blurred vision. You felt his tip prodding at your entrance. He so fucking big.

“Oh baby f-fuck—“

Miguel’s voice was like gravel as he pushed into you slowly, feeling your walls shift to accommodate his size. It had been so long - too long - since he’d felt the vice grip your soft pussy had around his throbbing cock, milking it for every drop you could. You cried out again, the sound hitting his ears like a symphony. He grabbed around your throat, fingers almost touching around the back, pulling you up to sit on him.

“Mm, mi vida,” he mumbled into your sternum.

He spread your ass cheeks, with both large hands, fucking you over his cock with ease. He could hardly get the whole thing inside. Your poor legs were still shaking, struggling to stay up, but he was happy to do the work. Miguel was satisfied enough to just have you in his arms again, in any way he could.

“T-too much Miguel I–”

“Shh honey, sh, I’ve got you,” he cooed, lifting and lowering you with the movement of his hips.

You grabbed onto his shoulders tightly. Miguel had never been so commanding and attentive to you before. He was sliding in so fucking deep that you felt your brain short circuit with every pass. He felt bigger than before, but you knew that was impossible. Your nails dug into the muscle of shoulders, he groaned, voice rough with arousal. He looked up at you.

“Kiss me hermosa.”

You complied, grabbing the back of his head and tangling your fingers in his hair while melting your mouth into his. You started to feel the strength come back to the muscles in your legs so you took over, riding his cock while continuing to kiss him deeply. This wasn’t the first time you and Miguel had been intimate, but you wondered why he’d held back this passion for lovemaking for so long. This was not the same sex you’d had with him just a few nights ago.

Now that his hands were free, he could feel over your entire body, letting the pads of his fingers take in every detail of your skin. It felt so soft, like it always had, smooth and warm. You started moving your hips faster, taking his cock deeper. He could feel your walls fluttering around him again.

“Gonna give me another one already, baby? Hm?” He started nipping at your neck, making you whimper and whine louder.

“Yes, oh yes Miguel!”

He wrapped his arms around you, leaning forward so that you were underneath him. He held you down with his weight, fucking you harder than you could possibly have done if you were still on top. His teeth still continued marking your neck, forcing sharp cries from your perfect lips.

“Yes, that’s my girl, oh god…honey-I-f-fuck…ah!”

Miguel’s hips came to a stuttering halt, cock pumping his hot spend into your tightly clenched cunt. Your walls were crashing over him, squeezing his cum out around the sides of his length and letting it spill onto the bedding. He didn’t want to let go of you just yet, so he held you there while you both lay in your blissed out high for a while.

It wasn’t the same…it would never be the same…but it was close enough.

That was how Miguel had managed to slide - almost seamlessly - into your life. He noticed that this version of you was more different than he’d originally thought, right down to the way you liked to do your makeup. Still, he felt that as long as he could keep you alive, and keep you safe, he could overlook some of those things. You were similar enough that he felt happy again.

He still missed you sometimes though; the real you that he’d lost, and he still mourned for that version of you. But when he looked at you now, a few months into dating this you, in your little brown barista apron with a big grin on your face, kissing him on the cheeks like he was the most precious thing in the world to you, he felt warm. It was like putting a bandaid on the wound. It would never fully heal, but this made it better.

Everything was as perfect as it could be, until one morning felt unfortunately familiar. He woke up fast, realizing he’d been sleeping with his mouth wide open on your chest.

“Good morning, handsome,” you said, laughing and wiping a bit of spit from his stubbled cheek, “You were out. Having a good dream?”

He hadn’t forgotten a single detail about that day.

He looked up at you, brow furrowed in confusion and concern. In the last couple of months he’d learned a few things about this universe. Time still worked the same as it did in his universe, but the year was 2016. It was possible that time wasn’t even a relevant factor concerning your death, but he thought that perhaps if it was relevant, he might have a chance to save you before this day would be upon him.

He had also considered that perhaps his universe had an anomaly that the others didn’t, and that was why you’d died and perhaps you’d live in this one. Maybe it wasn’t canon for you to die every time, and he’d just been extremely unlucky to be born in the one dimension that he would lose you.

But if this universe did work exactly the same, he thought he would get to prepare for this. He thought he’d get more than a couple months with you before he lost you again. He gave you a soft smile and brought the back of your hand to his lips.

“What do you say you skip work today and we stay in bed, hm?” He asked, calm on the surface but screaming on the inside for you to agree.

“Well I have to go in, my rent isn’t going to pay itself.” You slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom, leaving Miguel lying there, staring at you with desperation as you walked away into the bathroom.

“I have a good job, mi vida, I can pay your rent, you don’t need to go to work,” he insisted, getting out of bed and standing in front of the bathroom doorway.

“Not a chance,” you said, undressing and closing the door in his face.

Maybe this morning would be different. If he recalled correctly, and he did recall correctly, this wasn’t how that morning had started originally. The fact that you weren’t married was already so different, it was just that…something felt so uncanny, so similar but so…not at the same time. He opened the door.

“Have to pee,” he grumbled, walking over to the toilet.

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you,” you said, turning knobs on the shower, “I know we said we would do dinner tonight but a couple girls from work wanted to go out for drinks tonight so I think I’ll join them, that okay?” You stepped into the warm water and closed the curtain.

Miguel pulled his pants back up and froze.

“W-Who’s going?” He couldn’t stop his shaking hands from clenching into fists.

“Stacy and Mira.” You peeked your head out of the shower curtain, “I’m really sorry, I forgot all about–”

“No,” he said coldly.

Your heart caught in your chest at his words. All this time, Miguel had surprised you by proving to be the best guy you’d ever been with and suddenly, his firm tone sent a chill down your spine. He’d never spoken so bluntly to you before, and he’d certainly never looked at you with such a dark glare as he was in that moment.

“Baby, we can go out another night, it’s not often that Stacy can find a sitter and–”

“I said no,” he repeated harshly, “I won’t say it again.”

You turned off the shower and got out, grabbing your towel and covering yourself. He was so much taller than you, but you weren’t going to let someone talk to you like that, especially someone who was supposed to be your partner. You held up a scolding finger.

“Miguel, why the hell are you acting like this? You’re not my fucking dad, you’re my boyfriend. You don’t get to–”

He pulled you in, pressing his lips to yours. He didn’t know what else to do. You were angry, and you had every right to be. For all you knew, your normally loving and considerate boyfriend had taken a controlling and dark turn, and you were upset. He thought if he could just shut you up then you might forget about it and agree. Instead, you slapped him, forcing him to step back in shock, holding his cheek where the sting remained.

“Out,” you said firmly, “you’ve been acting like a weirdo ever since the day you met my parents. I looked past it because you still seemed like a nice guy, and those are hard to find, but you freak me out.”

Miguel’s heart fell into a million pieces all around him. He held his breath, trying to keep himself from losing his temper. His chest was heaving.

“Mi vida, I–”

“Stop calling me that! I’m not your life. I’m just some girl you’ve been dating for a few months and sometimes things don’t work out. This…” you gestured between the two of you, “isn’t working out.”

Miguel would never hurt you. He would never hurt you, but in that moment he fantasized about breaking your fucking neck. It was delicate enough, he could hold it tight and make it snap with only one hand. He might even enjoy watching you writhe when he grabbed you. How dare you think you could just leave him like that.

But he didn’t have to do a thing, because he knew that you would die that day, and he wasn’t going to stop you. Not this time. Fuck this version of you.

“Fine,” he said with a malicious smirk.

After he left, you cried, but only for a short while as you finished getting ready for work. He wasn’t the first weirdo you’d dated, and you were certain he wouldn’t be the last. You were glad that Emily had stayed at her own boyfriend’s house the night before so she wouldn’t hear you and Miguel arguing that morning. The last thing you wanted to do was go to your older sibling with your tail between your legs in defeat over another loser.

Miguel watched you leave your apartment and start walking to work. He thought he might have to wait until 10:53pm to see you die, but it would seem his theory that time was completely irrelevant when it came to your canonical death was correct.

The car seemed to come out of nowhere, flying down the street without a care for who might be in its path. Some idiot was behind the wheel, texting and driving, not paying attention while you crossed. The interesting thing was, that the other two girls died too, like they had in the original universe. After hitting you, the car swerved into the storefront of the coffee shop, killing the two employees who were standing near the front door; looks like those stupid friends of yours were meant to die in every universe too.

Miguel shook his head in frustration. Of course a part of him felt sad seeing you choking on your own blood in the middle of the street while people surrounded you, as if there was anything they could do. He didn’t feel sad for you though, he felt sorrow only for himself, having wasted so much time trying to find out if you were the one he could replace you with. It would seem you were a faulty substitute, flawed in so many ways that he’d chosen to overlook, and it was time to find a new one, a better one.

And he wouldn’t stop looking until he found a sufficient replacement, the perfect one.

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Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

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bitchlessdino · 2 years ago

Note

joshua hard thots

cockwarming him after rounds of fucking because he can't get enough of feeling your pussy wrapped around his cock

Pairing: Bf!joshua x gn!reader

Genre: tender smut, drabble

Word count: 1.0k+

tags: established relationship, yearning, love, cockwarming, assumed unprotected sex

author note: this probably wasn't what you were looking for anon but i was in such a soft sexy mood I wrote this and have no regrets. this felt like therapy and i love writing again.

You thought there were better things to do than be in bed all day, but Joshua thought otherwise. These free days weren’t rare but definitely getting sparse, placing more significance on quality time, even indoors. The thought vanishes thin into the air when your boyfriend develops the mood physically, wasting no time–in his words anyway–and captures your naked body in his, dipping his hips into you to create friction that he knew drove you crazy.

He could never get sick of you moaning his name. It was like the butter to his perfectly toasted slice of bread, a simple symphony of goodness that in no way could be replicated.

The supple skin that you spent minutes of an hour moisturizing wouldn’t go to waste, tasting as sweet on his tongue as good as it smelled. He was in love with every texture and bump, ingraining into every wrinkle of his brain for keepsake. He could never have enough and he’d prove it too.

“Mmh, yeah…taking me like that…that good?”

There isn’t a moment in time his cock inside your core isn’t pure heaven pushing in and out of you. He’s careful not to hurt you, caressing your hips, and cushioning your posterior in his large hands, while he’s rearranging your insides and with only thoughts of what would please you more. The matter that his dick doing a swell job of ebbing every twitch to your hips only boosts up his ego a smidge, he claims, knowing damn well it was quite the understatement.

“Josh…squeeze me harder…fuck me deeper…”

He also likes how you knew the things to say, ordering him around, teaching him, gratifying him with the heightened volumes of your whines, your screams, his name on your tongue, again. It’d go on for hours–days if he could–and it’s never enough, but god did it feel good to try.

At this point, it’s in the middle of the afternoon and the only reason either one of you had gotten up was to go to the restroom or fetch snacks and water. Neither of you were hungry, thirsty, or felt the need for a different kind of release, so you stayed back together in bed. Joshua has made his point of being the man for you by having you climax in his presence countless times in countless methods and for countless hours. It was time for rest, you both concluded. For now.

You’d nuzzle into his bare chest, feeling the sweat radiate off his incredulously toned body, while his arms–bulging and rippled in from arm day for three times a week every week–shifts around your frame, tugging you close to him. His soft smile lets out a satisfied hum, puckered lips meeting your eyebrows. “You look so tired.”

“Whose fault is that?” you tease with your eyes.

His laughter reminds you of cotton candy, sweet and plush if ever materialized. It brought you back to how addicted you were to such a treat as a child. Now its been replaced with its personified self, Joshua Jisoo Hong. He melted in your mouth better than any confectioners sugar.

“I should feel guilty but,” he shrugs his shoulders to make a show of it, “I don’t. As long as you keep moaning my name or look at me with those eyes–”

You bubble up in laughter, “What eyes–”

“I’ll never stop. Love me the way you do and I’ll make every opportunity together a core memory.”

You light-heartedly scoff, your canine digging at your bottom lip when your eyes fixate on him, feeding into every word, every look, every breathing pattern. Your hand comes up to cup his face and you reach his lips, slowly but surely proving to him you’d do the same. While he was best with words, you were best with action, which proved the physicality of the situation more significant.

When you first met, he was brave enough to be honest in confessing he had little plans to be ‘active’ in a romantic relationship, a sign saying turn away now before you fall into an endless pit of a sexless relationship with no soft landing. He was proven otherwise with you, someone beyond pure imagination. You were a breathing fantasy to him. He was willing to give up everything for you.

Now in the present, his tongue dances against yours, your naked body clutching him, and finally his easily replenished cock tickling against your thigh. He pushed his hand up against your lower back into his torso and your warmth hovers on top of the head of the length, your moisture sliding against the sensitivity and you whine until Joshua feels it in his throat. “Put your dick in me…”

“You just admitted to being tired,” he lightly retorts, already twitching and heart bouncing at the thought.

“I’ll just…keep it warm…please, my love…”

You are sounds of bliss no matter what the words are, but in this case, he couldn’t imagine loving you anymore with the need in your rasp and the ache between your legs.

“Alright,” he relinquishes, hands finding balls of your flesh and guiding you to hug his girth with your fluttering walls that knew no rest. His arms bring you closer–somehow possible–and knead into your skin, feeling the soothing touch on the tips of his digits until he’s plunging the trimmed nails until his DNA is a part of you.

“Mmh, yes,” you mewl, returning your attention to admire his beautiful face, looking at you and only you.

You may have made the request but he was relieved to enjoy it, having already missed the contracting squeeze of your walls pulsating around his needy cock. He always feared that if he had a taste of the best vessel for his cock he would have, he’d refuse to let it go–now wishing, hoping, praying you’re never pried away from his hands.

You grind down to the base of his cock, his full-length home inside you and you share a groan, giggles following after when you lock eyes. Both of you were stupidly besotted with one another, even cherishing the sweet tenderness of languid movement of both your hips not on the journey for the climax, but rather appreciating each other wordlessly, as you’ve always done.

Arousal never leaves either of you while together, finding euphoria even in the smallest things such as doing laundry together or dishes together. The thought of a moment like this replays in both of your minds. Hardly sentences, hardly words, just how you fit like a puzzle, metaphorically and literally.

#svthub #seventeen smut #joshua hong #seventeen #joshua hong smut #hong joshua smut #seventeen joshua #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #hong jisoo #hong jisoo smut

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beanghostprincess · 2 months ago

Note

Not to keep beating a dead horse so to speak, but circling back to how the anime handles the Shuggy breakup it is personally the first time I've fully understood people who say the manga is way better & the "true" story because on the whole I think the anime is a really good adaption....except for this omg. I haven't read the manga fully either yet so now I'm wondering what else got a totally different vibe than intended & how that colors the perception of the story & characters. For instance, I'm already seeing anime onlys completely misinterpret Buggy's feelings in the shuggy breakup probably because of how brief it was.

I've had arguments in comments sections about people who do not think Buggy wanted to be Pirate King himself & his anger with Shanks isn't tied to him secretly sacrificing his OWN dream to follow him. To me the manga made it very clear that Buggy was making a great personal sacrifice in order to stay with his friend & how that all ties into his own insecurities, but a ton of anime onlys only saw it as Buggy being a whiny baby & not realizing how deep of a conflict Shanks refusing to look for the One Piece was for them 😭 and it's so frustrating! They just think Buggy is being "ungrateful" for everything Shanks did for him. I'm tired of the Shuggy dynamic being viewed so one sidedly in Shanks's favor & Buggy's detriment because they both narratively hold equal amounts of significance to each other. We just haven't been allowed to explore Shanks's side of it...yet. Oda kept Shanks's face obscured for a reason I'm sure.

And since the anime didn't frame it correctly Buggy's speech to Cross Guild about reigniting your dreams & setting sail for Laugh Tale loses all seriousness & comes off as just another gag instead & it breaks my heart because in the Manga while there is humor in it Buggy's tears are REAL & you can literally feel the spirit of One Piece flow through his speech. That speech shows us Buggy is a TRUE pirate! He ALSO inhereted Roger's will! I could literally feel the "I'm gunna become king of the pirates" OST from the anime play as I read it, but the anime framed it like another one of Buggy's "upward fialures" 💔 and it breaks my heart anime onlys don't get that. Imagine if Luffy gave up on his dream & finally after 30 years decided to believe in himself again? Imagine If Usopp really did give up in Water 7 & we didn't see him find the will to believe in himself until 39 years later? Buggy is an example of forgotten dreams & a lesson on it never being too late to go after them.

So I completely agree with you that it doesn't matter how little panel time a moment gets because if Oda can convey all of THAT in like 3 panels then the anime can do so and then some in a minute or 2. I also can't help but think this will confuse viewers later on because I'm certain Buggy is going to get to do some really cool & meaningful stuff in the last arc & a lot of them will feel blindsided because the set up was executed weirdly.

Sorry for sending such a long post & feel free to ignore If ur tired of discussing this I just wanted to give you some validation &let you know you're not the only one who thinks this way. Adaptation has a lot more going into it than just copying manga panels & the a good anime should definitely know when to expand on brief scenes & how to set the correct mood for them.

Oh, please, if it's not a negative ask you can keep sending me stuff about the episode and the breakup all you want!!! I'm just tired of having to defend my opinion. As if it wasn't just that, an opinion. But I'm sooo open to talk about it!!

And you're right!!! It bothers me so much to just think about how Anime Onlys are going to perceive this episode... If Buggy is already misunderstood within the fandom, I can't imagine what's gonna happen now that HIS episode has gotten this awful pacing and explanation (I complain but I've watched the episode so many times already lmao)

People misunderstand their relationship so much and in such levels... I don't get it because it's literally right there. You can't miss it. They're canonically crucial for each other no matter how you see it. It IS mutual whatever they have going on. I know we don't have much of Shanks' POV but you don't even have to read between the lines to see it.

And Buggy being seen as whiny because he has... Feelings... And is emotional... After his whole life crumbles down... Idk about you but if I lived in my best friend's shadow for years and gave up on my dream to trust in his instead, and suddenly when our captain dies he says he won't follow it... I'd be pretty fucking emotional too tbh. I could defend Buggy all day long and explain his character, but I believe I've done that already... So many times... (I love it it's my favorite thing ever)

I love your comparisons to other characters giving up on their dreams because it's so real. Buggy is the representation of people who once gave up on their dream and now are getting the courage back to follow it again. His speech is so emotional I think I know it by heart at this point with how many times I've read this chapter. I always cry-- Every time-- And I'm sooo angry Toei made the episode for laughs basically. It frustrates me in unimaginable ways.

Buggy is gonna do something incredible and people will complain and say it was out of nowhere because his speech in the Anime seems for jokes and like one of his schemes to get away from his problems. But this man was literally having a breakdown in the middle of a torture session and made an impulsive, emotional decision that came from the depths of his heart, because he had been holding onto it for his whole life. That's what bothers me about the animation. The pacing is bad and the way they treat him is even worse...

Don't apologize!!!!! I loved reading this. You expressed yourself sooo well and in such a polite way!!! Basically, you wrote everything I thought about the episode and I'm so glad to finally talk to someone with my same views 😭💖💖

#anywayy in oda we trust read the manga we must #live laugh love buggy #one piece #buggy the clown #one piece 1116 #ask-bean!

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zahri-melitor · 15 days ago

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DC Pride 2022:

I didn't particularly like the Damian and Jon story (not in the least because I generally don't get much from the way they're characterised in stories together), but it did crystallise a few things for me about why I find "it's a Pride parade!" stories so unutterably dull.

I'm not going to go into the 'is Pride a riot' debate that I know was everywhere when this issue came out, but I think the thing is...the art never actually LOOKS like a parade to me, as it doesn't hit the right notes.

Where are the Dykes on Bikes at the head of it. Where are the old people who founded this. The history OF the parade is encapsulated in the shape of the parade itself. It's always too young, too sanitised and too twee.

The Nubia and Io story just reminds me I really want to read all the Nubia stuff (I'll get there!)

Connor's story is that awkward line of 'we need you to come out' and 'coming out stories are so formulaic'. Connor, definitely throw that letter in the bin. You absolutely don't actually want to send a letter to your mother about the specific details of what you do and don't want to do with other people physically. The awkwardness in your memory of what you said will never ever go away.

Alysia Yeoh's story is clearly not contemporary (probably mid Batgirl 2016 I think?) because Babs isn't using the Clock Tower when this issue came out. It's...nice. Adult. Slightly tired.

The Jackson Hyde story is cute. I feel it's making Xebel a lot calmer and friendlier than it's usually portrayed but I haven't read enough Aquaman to be definite on that. Hang out with your boyfriend, Jackson!

The Jo Mullein story I need to come back to after I've actually read Far Sector but felt fun.

The Ray Terrill story...is extremely funny if you have actually read Ray and Dinah's 1990s interactions.

What's calculated to make Ray run off to help immediately? Dinah calling for back up!

Dinah. Dinah. Behaving like this is how you had that massive fight with Ollie where he thought you were cheating on him with Ray thirty years ago. (Do it again, it's very funny to me)

Ray: nobody has every shown me affection before Dinah: acts like a human being Ray: dedicates his entire diary to being aimed at Dinah

ANYWAY. Story is fine, the bonus by reading it through a 90s lens is amazing.

The Kate Kane story just being Jacob Kane being proud of Kate made me laugh (I don't actually think you're that supportive, Jacob, but I'm glad you think you are trying to be in your mind). On the other hand it's sweet to frame something through a proud parent.

Tim's story: I laughed realising they'd given this to Travis Moore. They clearly wanted it to be pretty. Nice that they went to Fair Day.

More seriously though: this is very in tune with Tim having other moments of self discovery (To the Father I Never Knew, the first Father's Day with Bruce). Very similar internal monologue.

As I say annually, the Harley/Ivy story is unnecessary. This should be in their own titles.

(Sorry Earth-11, I do not care about you)

And then we get to the only story in the ENTIRE ISSUE with any real grit to it (Kevin Conroy's autobiographical piece) and they slap an advisory warning on the front.

And look, I get why, but also it's so...hmm...we should be able to acknowledge more complicated stories and common narratives without having to warn people. We don't put warnings like that on the front of Lobo (well, aside from the comic being titled 'Lobo'). It should be possible to acknowledge the joys of identity while still reflecting on the past. It's not even anything more than a single slur a bunch of times plus period homophobia and the AIDS crisis. It's not shocking? or surprising? or unexpected?

DC Pride Tim Drake Special #1:

Okay so this is UL reprints plus one new story?

I think the most disappointing thing about the Steph story is that the characterisation doesn't really ring true to any of the characters involved? Steph is allowed to be jealous. Tim's allowed to be avoiding her and shouldn't be getting nagged by everyone to talk to her (especially given the preceding stories and the DC Pride story make it clear Tim and Bernard have been dating for months). It's a cute fantasy but it doesn't feel realistic for the failure points of the personalities of any of the characters involved (Tim, Steph, Conner or Bart), and Cass is once again just used as an adjunct to Steph, rather than someone who has her own independent relationship with Tim.

The art is cute, I even think Tim and Steph did need to clear the air on page, but...it could have used some more grit? Depth? Possibility of things going wrong or people feeling hurt? Less of an ideal fantasy that worked perfectly?

#z canon read throughs #as always what I would actually like to see from a DC Pride special barely appears #(that is queer characters getting to be queer and visible without the most generic 'yay pride!' and coming out narratives)#Come for the Tim story but stay for: Nubia & Io; Alysia Yeoh; Jackson Hyde; and Jo Mullein #which is a better percentage than some others I think

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winchesterszvonecek · 21 days ago

Text

Prosecutorial Misconduct 18+

Chapter 10 - Targeted Misfortune

Word Count: 7048

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Unlike the rest of the DA’s office, Rafael was still sitting behind his desk as the sky grew dark and the streets fell empty. He knew he should really close up shop and head home before it got any later — or rather before he ended up pulling yet another all nighter. But with the piles of paperwork that were stacking higher and higher on his desk as the days passed by, he didn’t think that would be an entirely wise idea for him to fulfil.

Now of course, it would absolutely be a wise idea for him to call it a night, as he knew well that he should really start prioritising his own health and wellbeing over the blatant stresses of his job. The amount of times he’d found himself running solely on coffee was more than he could count on both hands, and if he ever wanted to live to see the second half of his life then he should really start taking better care of himself.

And don’t get him wrong, he would. One day, in the near distant future, he’d finally learn to put himself first and stop living off of coffee and take-out, however tonight… as he sat there fiddling mindlessly with his pen, he just couldn’t shake the feeling that his office was where he was meant to be. He knew it sounded corny, like something pulled straight out of a cheesy hallmark Christmas movie, but it was true.

Each time he had tried to stand up and make the move to go home, there was a voice, from deep inside his heart — not his mind — that not so politely yelled out at him to stop, and each time it did he couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than listen to it. He wasn’t sure why he felt that way, or even how that lingering thought had entered his mind in the first place. All he truly knew was that until that feeling ceased entirely , throughout every fibre of his being, then he could not, under any circumstances, leave the warm sanctity of his office.

Rafael didn’t care if that meant he was there all night. He didn’t care if he eventually found himself rolling exhaustively into the next morning — again — so long as his subconscious kept telling him to stay, then he would stay. He would much rather grow to regret not going home, than have to live with the regret of missing out on…whatever the reason may be for his desperate need to remain in his office, so until he truly felt like it was time, he wouldn’t be leaving his desk for anything.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you work too much?”

The split second that utterly delectable sound drifted blessedly through the air towards him, Rafael knew all too well of the reasoning behind his sudden desire to stay at work.

It made sense. There wasn’t a single thing on the planet that had such a tight, intense, soul-bounding grasp on him as Melanie did, so it was no surprise to find out that she was the sole cause for the bellowing voice inside him — as though it somehow knew this whole time that this is where she’d end up. He glanced up from his desk immediately, his stomach already fluttering over simply hearing Melanie’s voice that when he finally saw her after a long week of catching mere glimpses of her here and there, it all but grew wings and threatened to fly away.

Melanie hadn’t moved an inch since she appeared. She was still hovering almost hesitantly in his doorway, her arm pressed up against the frame and a small brown bag hanging loose by her side. She smiled sweetly the second Rafael’s tired eyes locked onto her own equally drained gaze, and the simple way in which it melted his heart made every minute of his night spent within the four walls of his office completely and utterly worth it — as had he listened to his mind over his heart and left when he should have… he’d have missed out on seeing her entirely.

And that was definitely something he’d spend the rest of the week wallowing in regret over.

“I, uh, I brought dinner…” Melanie raised the bag, showcasing the familiar logo of the local Chinese restaurant nearby. She then shrugged, adding quickly as she lowered it again, “If you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” Rafael lied, as with the pure hope that unintentionally soaked her tone, he didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d already eaten. And sure, it had been a rather small burrito from the cart outside that he’d gotten about four hours ago but still, he wasn’t overly hungry. Nevertheless, he stood up, tossing the pen he was holding yet hadn’t used in ages back onto his desktop before slowly rounding it towards her. “How’d you know I’d still be here?”

“Lucky guess,” Melanie said, delving further into the office Rafael might as well live in as he gestured briefly to the couch. She made her way towards it, shuffling along the gap between the coffee table and slumping down onto the familiar comfort of the soft leather seat.

As she set the bag on the table and began to empty it, Melanie could easily feel the cushion beside her sink as Rafael happily joined her after grabbing a bottle of scotch and some glasses — once again sitting much closer to her than what was appropriately necessary for the situation. She didn’t say anything about it, though, and neither did he.

In all honesty, no matter how frequently they both picked up on that little detail, or locked eyes during the moments in which it would happen, neither of them ever muttered a single word about it, as they didn’t want it to stop. They didn’t want it to change, but most importantly they didn’t ever want to miss out on experiencing the fierce, heartwarmingly intense chill that would ripple up their spine and spread out across every inch of their skin in a wave of goosebumps, any time they so much as brushed fingers.

And whilst they happened, the two of them remained in a comfortable silence as Rafael poured them each a glass of scotch whilst Melanie continued to empty the bag, which was starting to appear as though it were bigger on the inside with just how much seemed to reside within it.

Carton after carton she pulled out from between the paper sides, each one filled to the brim with the delicious cause of the warm aroma surrounding them. There was sweet and spicy chicken, steaming noodles mixed with crunchy vegetables, the crispiest spring rolls you could possibly imagine, not to mention the most mouth-watering fried rice either of them would ever taste.

Most of the time when Melanie ordered from that particular restaurant — which was way more often than she liked to admit and she would notbe confessing aloud that she was on a first name basis with the owner, the chefs and the delivery driver — she could never decide on which items to choose from. The entire menu was all too mouth-wateringly good to pick just one thing and it usually resulted in her ordering way too much for one person, hence her last minute decision to drop by and make sure Rafael had eaten something other than pain relief and coffee.

“I think I ordered too much,” Melanie murmured, scratching briefly at the back of her head as she grazed her eyes along the seven cartons of food that covered the coffee table. “It seemed like less when I asked for it.”

Rafael chucked, “It always does.”

Not that he was the least bit surprised, however, as last time she’d brought him dinner she’d arrived with two large pizzas, what felt like an entire loaf of garlic bread, twenty mozzarella sticks and a full box of chocolate brownies.

With an excited smile, Melanie then held out the last, and only box not overflowing with food, towards him, “Here. You can pick out your fortune cookie first.”

Knowing that it was useless to say no, as Melanie loved fortune cookies and likely wouldn’t rest until he’d opened one, Rafael silently agreed and peered over the edge of the box in front of him. There were only two cookies sitting inside it, one a little bigger than normal and the other slighter smaller. He went for the latter, plucking the small crispy shell from the bottom of the box and gently crushing it between his fingers until the small slip of paper revealed itself.

Melanie dropped the box down to rest on her leg, watching intently as Rafael brushed a few lingering crumbs onto a napkin before unfolding the fortune and slowly drawing his eyes across it. The farther along the words he got, the more his face seemed to fall into a deep shade of disappointment. He never usually cared about what they said as, to him, it was just a silly piece of paper, but the longer he stared at it…Re-reading each word over and over in hopes that they would start shuffling into something else, the closer to home the fortune kept hitting.

“What does it say?” Melanie asked, picking at the skin of her lips a touch as it was taking Rafael a while to read a single sentence and she almost feared what was written on it. “Rafael?”

With a gentle sigh, Rafael hesitantly turned the slip around to showcase it fully, watching with a small ball of anxiety building and swirling in his stomach as Melanie’s eyes finally fell from his and to the paper. She took her time. Her brow slightly pinched as she read each and every word carefully, which did not do anything to ease Rafael’s worries as he knew she always liked to believe her fortunes. And the ones of those who she’d forced to open them, but here’s hoping that this time she simply chose to brush this one off as nothing more than a silly metaphor.

“Don’t hold onto your hope if it requires a tight grip.”

As Melanie unfortunately read the words aloud, an unintentional empty chuckle leaving her lips as she did, Rafael was quick to let go of it. And Melanie was glad for it. The second her own voice reached her ears she knew she shouldn’t have read it aloud so as to not speak it into existence, but before she’d fully realised what she’d done, it was too late. She could already feel her chest tighten a little as the silence grew thick between them, her eyes falling down to paper as it floated aimlessly through the air and back to the bottom of the box.

“It’s just a silly fortune,” Melanie mumbled, despite both her own beliefs and how hard the phrase seemed to hit her. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Doesn’t it? She couldn’t stop herself from thinking. It was a damn near perfect metaphor for the hope she knew Rafael carried so heavy in his chest when it came to the two of them, and she almost regretted opening that box. Or rather, she almost regretted ever coming here in the first place as things weren’t playing out how she’d hoped they would. She originally came here in search of that familiar, favourite comfort that she always found in Rafael. The usual respite he often offered her from particularly tough cases, not to end up spiralling over what may or may not ever happen in their weird little relationship.

“What does yours say?” Rafael asked quietly, yet he deeply feared what might lay beyond the crispy shell of Melanie’s cookie.

Reluctantly, and with a slightly shaky sigh, Melanie reached her fingers into the box and crushed the cookie so hard beneath them that the crunch echoed within the box’s walls and up into the air. She could feel the softness from the slip of paper between her fingertips, practically calling out to be read and cast into the world for good, but she wasn’t sure whether or not she was ready for another one — especially not one that might relate to the current affairs of her own life. She was so used to getting nice ones like ‘ You’ll find greatness where you least expect it’ or maybe even the silly ones the restaurant would sometimes add like ‘ You are about to become $8.95 poorer ($6.95 if you had the buffet)’ but never ones so deep and meaningful as Rafael’s.

Nevertheless, she knew she couldn’t move on until she read it and so, with her chest tightening with each shallow breath she sucked in, she opened the paper and read it aloud, “You may soon find that an exciting career change lies ahead of you.”

Oh… That wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. Farfetched, as it was, but still…It was a hell of a lot nicer than the other.

“I should have picked that one,” Rafael commented, his tone as humorous as he could bring himself to make it as Melanie dropped the fortune into the box and dusted off her fingertips.

“Oh yeah,” She raised her eyebrow, glancing towards him as she set the box back into the empty bag. “You thinking about switching careers on us, counsellor?”

“As if you’d ever let me go if I did,” Rafael replied, and Melanie couldn’t help but tilt her head in agreement. She said nothing though. Her stomach was too tied up in that phrase and its underlying meaning, so instead she simply lifted a pair of chopsticks from beside the bag and handed them to him, his tone then turning playful, “Let me guess, you got yourself a fork?”

“You guys need to stop bullying me and my inability to use chopsticks,” Melanie said bluntly, yet her lips did curl a little as she lifted, and showcased, the plastic fork she had indeed taken for herself. “It’s not my fault I can’t figure it out.”

“That truly baffles me,” Rafael exhaled, unfolding the lid of what he guessed was the spicy chicken given the way his nose started to tingle. “You can sit and flawlessly flip a knife between your fingers for hours without fail, and yet you still can’t use chopsticks?”

“Can’t stab someone with chopsticks, Rafael.”

“ You could.”

“True,” Melanie answered immediately, making Rafael chuckle quietly as she stuck her fork deep into the container noodles, twirling them mindlessly around the prongs. “But then again, they’d probably only end up with a nasty bruise so I think for now I’ll stick with my knives and forks.”

“Fair,” Rafael agreed, his eyes then quickly narrowing as he kept them peeled, almost worriedly, on Melanie.

Despite her usual banter poking out its head, something about her seemed…off, almost, as she sat before him, still twirling her fork as though trying to get every single noodle in the carton onto it at once. She never usually took this long to start eating when given the chance too. Hell, last time she’d brought him food she had eaten a slice of pizza in the stairwell on the way up to his office, so it was a little strange to see her like this now — staring absently into the distance as a thick glaze seemed to cast over her eyes.

Rafael couldn’t help but wonder if she was thinking about the words that lay at the bottom of the fortune cookie box. He’d seen the way her eye had twitched as she read it aloud, as though she were outwardly cringing at just how much it seemed to relate to the two of them and their current situation. Honestly, he still couldn’t believe that. Out of all the variations of fortunes out there, he just had to go and get one that hit closer to home than a professional baseball player.

After all, it had only been the other week, before he’d gone and spoken to Mike and gotten that little boost of encouragement, that Rafael had thought about letting go of the hope he carried so deep in his heart for her. He knew Melanie was…difficult, as much as it pained him to say. He knew she was tough and, as the fortune cookie so bluntly put it, a grasp he’d have to hold tightly onto, but he really thought they were getting somewhere. He really thought that he’d been slowly chipping away at her own hard outer shell, but after reading that phrase…after seeing the guilt flash over Melanie’s face as she, herself, read it too, he couldn’t help but wonder if that little cookie didn’t go and make a rather excellent point.

“Melanie,” Rafael said softly, setting his carton of chicken aside as he never once drew his gaze away from Melanie, who was still playing with her food. She hummed in acknowledgment, lifting her attention to meet his as he shuffled in his seat a little, resting his arm along the back of the couch, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Melanie replied, her voice a mere crack of whisper. She then smiled, trying her hardest to assure him that she was — even though she really wasn’t, which was clearly evident by the way her lips barely rose more than a few millimetres. “I’m okay.”

Rafael narrowed his eyes doubtfully, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?”

Melanie scoffed in offence, “I think you’ll find that I am an excellent liar, thank you very much… I perjure myself all the time.”

“Please don’t tell me that.”

Rolling her eyes as he all but scolded her, Melanie dropped them back down to her food and let go of her fork, “I don't know why I bought all this… I’m not even hungry.”

“You will be,” Rafael said, taking the container from within her pale hands and setting it aside for later. He then shuffled closer to her, brushing the soft curls of her hair over her shoulder before placing his hand gently atop it. “Talk to me, mijo . What’s going on with you?”

“It’s this case,” Melanie confessed quietly, and Rafael couldn’t help but feel a spark of relief wash over him entirely.

At least it wasn’t the fortune cookie .

“You mean the Lily Evans case?” He questioned, and Melanie nodded, her eyes already beginning to shimmer with the first brew of her tears. He shifted his hold on her, grazing his hand comfortably down the length of her arm before it landed atop hers, to which she immediately laced her fingers with his. “I heard you found her body. I’m sorry, mi cariño.”

And he didn’t mean that the whole team had found her body, he meant Melanie. She’d been the only one to notice Lily’s foot sticking out from within the blanket she’d been wrapped in, and it had been her very own, now partially shaking, hands that had been the ones to finally uncover the poor girl's lifeless face.

“It’s just been a really long week,” Melanie exhaled, her breath trembling as she did. “None of us have slept much since the beginning.”

“You do seem tired,” Rafael said, cupping one side of her face and ghosting his thumb along the underside of her eye. “Maybe you should be at home getting some rest, instead of here with me.”

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep,” Melanie murmured, feeling the warmth of Rafael’s hand as it dropped to cup the side of her neck instead, his thumb circling softly, comfortingly , over her pulse. “Mikey, he’s…” A shaky sigh left her lips as she glanced up at the ceiling, taking a moment to force her tears to retreat back into her tear ducts before returning her attention towards Rafael. “He won’t talk to me about it, but I can tell he’s taking this case personally. He came over for dinner the other day and hasn’t left since… At night I hear him pacing and when he’s awake, I’m awake… Not that I get much sleep anyway, but when I can feel his guilt in the pit of my stomach, it makes it harder for me to get my usual few hours.”

“His guilt?” Rafael questioned, “You can really feel what the other one feels?”

He honestly thought their whole ‘twin telepathy’ thing was nothing more than a lifelong, well orchestrated joke. Maybe even simply a ploy to creep out the others, but as he looked at Melanie now… As he truly saw the added guilt that sat deep within her delicate features, he could tell there was a lot more than her own emotions weighing heavy on her shoulders.

“To some extent,” Melanie replied, her fingers fiddling with a loose thread on her jeans. “I always thought it was more like sympathy pains… You know, from actually being together whenever something happened, but then this one time. Back when I was still on patrol, I got stabbed right through the hand by a guy dressed like Santa Claus…”

“Wait, wait… You got stabbed ?” Rafael interrupted, the pit of his stomach sinking further than he thought possible.

With a quiet hum, that was almost pitied given his outward worry that made her chest tighten terribly, Melanie nodded, slipping her hand from within his and holding it out flat in front of him. She then took hold of the one he had on her neck and lowered it, gently drawing his forefinger along the faint scar that still resided on her palm. She didn’t care that he’d easily have been able to see the scar given its slight discolouration against her pale skin, in that moment she simply wanted to feel him.

“It hurt like a bitch,” Melanie chuckled, her skin tingling as Rafael continued to graze his fingertip along the length of her palm on his own volition. “I was bleeding all over the guy's Santa beard as I cuffed him and then, no more than five minutes later, I got a text from Mikey. Now he’s in Chicago at the time, at some conference or whatever, and yet he still asked me what happened. Says he was pouring himself a coffee when all of a sudden he got a burning sensation in his hand and dropped the jug… That’s when I knew it was real.”

“And with this case?” Rafael asked, drawing his hands back to his lap even though they itched to reach out and simply hold her. “Why is it that you both feel guilty?”

“Mikey, he…” Melanie took a breath, holding it momentarily as she gathered herself before exhaling softly through her nose. “He didn’t think it was anything more than a run-away teen in the beginning. And don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t like he was purposely trying to drop the case or anything, as I could see why he would think that. Lily was acting out. We found pot in her room… Condoms. She was even texting this older guy. I mean, it was a textbook case of a teenage runaway. But even then…”

“You still had your doubts,” Rafael finished for her, trying his best to hide the pity he couldn’t help but feel as Melanie nodded, her eyes closing for a brief second.

“I just wish I had listened to them…” She whispered, her voice cracking. “Maybe then…”

“Don’t go there,” Rafael cut her off swiftly, scooting closer to her and fully closing the gap between them as he took her face in his hand. “I’m sure you did the best you could.”

“Yeah, that’s what Sonny said,” Melanie mumbled, and for one of the rare moments in his life Rafael found himself agreeing with Carisi.

Not that he even really cared about that, as in that small moment in which silence fell over them, Melanie leaned deeply into the comforting warmth of his hand. She even tilted her head a little, allowing her cheek to rub lightly over his palm and with each soft brush of her skin on his, his heart would clench terribly in his chest, easily overtaking each and every emotion he could have quite possibly been feeling in that moment.

Neither of them knew quite how long they stayed that way. Their words had fallen to a standstill and their eyes simply did the talking for them. All but confessing each and every word they both wished they could say out loud, yet could never find the courage to do so, as they gazed so affectionately at one another that Bigfoot could walk through the door and Melanie wouldn’t have batted an eye — which was saying something as she loved that Cryptid and had even spent time looking for him out in Oregon.

It didn’t help, either, that every so often Rafael would pair his deep, blush-causing gaze with an equally soothing brush of his thumb over every small part of Melanie’s face that he could reach, allowing her those little moments of pure comfort that she so frequently craved. In all honesty, it very quickly grew overwhelmingly intense for Melanie. Her mind was already racing with about a thousand different thoughts on a million different topics, so she really didn’t want to pile anymore on top wondering whether or not Rafael was going to kiss her.

And of course, she wanted him to… So, so badly did she finally want to kiss him. To feel the soft, tenderness of his lips on hers, but she knew she couldn’t. She still wasn’t ready to take that next step. Nor did she think she ever would be, honestly, as she still had that deep, lingering fear of both commitment and getting him so wound up in her reckless life that he’d likely never be able to unravel himself.

It didn’t matter that she could see in his eyes that he didn’t care about any of that. That all he truly wanted was her. And her alone, given the way his eyes kept flicking to her lips and he slowly, but surely, leaned in towards her. She simply couldn’t give in to her desire when she knew that both her mind, and her gut, weren’t fully in it.

Therefore, she pulled away from him. Not abruptly, or like she was fleeing from his touch, but softly. Warmly. As though showing him that he’d made her comfortable enough that she’d regained her appetite, which honestly she had as she couldn’t miss the first hint of her stomach gurgling inside of her. She reached out towards the table as Rafael shuffled back, creating a little distance from the heat that built between them as she lifted her glass, taking a small — yet disgusting — sip of scotch to help steady her nerves.

As the harsh burn trickled down her throat, and reminded her not to drink more than one glass should she succumb to another scotch-based hangover, Melanie set her glass aside and reached for one of the containers of food. She peered inside, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the crispy spring rolls that resided inside and caused her mouth to water furiously.

Lifting the largest one from the box she bit into it with a delectable crunch , the vast variety of flavours exploding on her tongue, “God, I always forget how good these are… Can you pass me the sauce?”

Rafael hummed in agreement and reached over to his end of the table, taking care to lift the tub of sweet and sour sauce, as it was still hot, which he then passed happily over to Melanie. She mumbled a brief thanks around her second bite as she took it from him, popping off the lid and all but smothering the last part of the roll in that delicious orange sauce before utterly devouring it.

“Oh,” Melanie then piped up, covering her mouth that still had a little food in it as she turned her attention back towards Rafael. “I forgot to say…” She swallowed, dropping her hand and running her tongue along her teeth to get the last of the sauce that coated them. “We exhumed a body today… I have pictures, I’ll show you later… But it reminded me of this one time when I fell into an open grave… Have I ever told you that story?”

“I can't say that you have,” Rafael replied, unable to help the soft laugh that followed suit as if there were ever a person who’d fall into an open grave, it would be Melanie. “But hold on a sec, did you say you took pictures whilst exhuming a body?”

“Just of them lifting it out of the ground. They’re mainly for Rollins… she’s still on bed rest and would be pissed if we didn’t,” Melanie elaborated, digging into her pocket to find her phone as she set her spring rolls aside. She pulled it out, licking her fingertips briefly before scrolling to find the photos amongst the mass of ones she took of Carisi when he fell asleep at his desk. “See…”

As she turned the phone screen towards him Rafael couldn’t help but glance curiously down at it, his head tilting in agreement. “That’s a coffin, alright.”

“It’s actually a casket,” Melanie corrected, locking her phone and pocketing it again. “Coffins are wide at one end and slim at the other, whereas a casket is always rectangular.”

“Why am I not surprised that you know this?”

All Melanie did was shrug, a smugly proud smile tugging at her lips as Rafael simply chuckled to himself. He should have known she’d correct him on that. Her mind always was full of the most random, and sometimes incredibly morbid, facts and details about the weird and wacky world in which they lived. He’d come to learn that the very first day he met her, when she had rambled on and on, for a good ten minutes, about the variety of marks and bruises that different types of choking devices could leave on a person — mediaeval torture ones included.

In all honesty, Rafael hadn’t even questioned it at the time given her job as a sex crimes detective, but the more she went on to describe bondage, role play and other kinds of sex games in great detail, the more he began to wonder exactly what Melanie got up to on her days off. He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d actually pictured quite a few different scenarios he might have found her in…some of which made him blush even now just thinking of them again.

Turns out, though, she wasn’t living some sort of double life as a dominatrix like he might have expected her to be. Not at all. No, in reality she just spent the majority of her free time watching a lot of documentaries and listening to a lot of podcasts on all kinds of different topics. He’d never forget the time she broke a nearly unsolvable case simply because she knew where the last photo their victim had been in was taken. And all it took for her to do so was a small flower in the background — the New England Violet to be exact, which just so happened to only grow in one small, riverside ice meadow in the whole entire state.

“I have to ask,” Rafael began, taking a small sip of scotch before lowering his glass to rest on his leg. “Where on earth do you find the room for all those facts you have in your head?”

Melanie let out a slightly delusional laugh, “Oh, if only I knew… It’s like a dumpster fire in there most days and you’re lucky I’m even able to sort through it when I need to.”

At that, Rafael chose to say nothing more on the particular topic in question, as he knew bringing up the idea of Melanie taking her ADHD medication to perhaps put out that dumpster fire wouldn’t go down particularly well. Instead, he simply offered her a partial smile as she all but deemed that part of their conversation over — yet she’d seemingly forgotten to elaborate on the time she fell into an open grave and he made a mental note to ask her about that another day as he was rather curious as to how she managed it.

From that point forward, the rest of the short time they had to spend together consisted of both Melanie and Rafael happily contributing to some lighthearted and fun conversation as they ate as much of the food as humanly possible — some of which Melanie purposely saved for her middle of the night snack she’d have later.

They had started off talking about different things here and there. You know, just basic stuff like life in general and if they had any vacations planned and whatnot. Until at one point, don’t ask him how, Rafael had somehow got Melanie started on the topic of ancient sharks and the haunting possibility of there being some undiscovered, maybe even thought to be extinct, species still living in deep underwater caves and caverns.

To be brutally honest, Rafael had never once given a second thought to, or even cared much, for sharks. Or any kind of sea life for that matter, not until he met Melanie. Her deep love, and vast range of knowledge, for all things oceanic was utterly heartwarming and if he could, he’d happily listen to her talk about the ptychodus and whatever the hell a edestus was, for the remainder of his time on Earth.

“Some people theorise that the Megalodon actually evolved to live in our time by shrinking,” Melanie carried on, taking a sip of the water Rafael had offered her as he could tell she hadn’t been enjoying the scotch. Perhaps he should invest in a bottle of tequila for her should they share any more nights like tonight. “You know, that it’s now just considered to be one of the larger great whites that are lurking in the ocean, but I don’t know if I believe that. I mean, yes I believe great whites might have actually come from the Meg, but I really do think all those big ones truly did die out. As unfortunate as that is for all of us shark nerds.”

“I can’t say I agree with your use of the word unfortunate here,” Rafael said, his tone a little humorous as he began to close the Chinese food boxes and pass them over to Melanie, who then put them back into the bag. “The thought of a…” — his brow then pinched and he glanced over at her — “How big were they?”

“They’re said to have reached around…” Melanie held her hand out flat and wobbled it from side to side, “sixty-seven feet. Give or take a few.”

“Jesus,” Rafael mumbled, his eyes widening in horror. “Yeah, I definitely don’t agree with your use of unfortunate as even the thought of a sixty-seven foot shark makes me never want to look at the ocean again let alone swim in it.”

“You know the likelihood of being attacked by a shark is a lot less than people think,” Melanie told him, setting the last of the boxes into the bag before turning herself to better face him properly. “You actually have more chance of being killed by a cow than you do a shark.”

“Well then I’ll stay away from farms too,” Rafael added, catching the slight smile that rose on Melanie’s face as he mimicked her motions, where the very next thing he noticed was the small crumb sitting directly on the ridge of her lip. “You have a little something on your lip… Do you mind?”

Without even pausing to see if she could get it herself, which she most definitely could, Rafael reached out his hand and waited with bated breath for Melanie to either shake her head or brush the crumb away by herself. He honestly expected it to be the latter, as she didn’t seem like the type of person to accept help like that from someone. But to his surprise she shook her head, allowing him to carry on his motion of extending his hand towards her face and lightly brushing the crumb away with his thumb.

It fell to the floor as he did, leaving her with nothing but perfection dancing across her face yet Rafael still made no urgent move to retract his hand away from her. Instead he let it linger, his fingertips brushing over the softness of her cheek as he began to feel the shuddering heat of Melanie’s faint breath as it slipped through her slightly parted lips, rippling over his skin like a gentle wave atop sand. He shuffled closer to her, her desire driven eyes having all but begged him to do so as he allowed his hand to fully splay across her cheek, his thumb dragging itself slowly down the supple warmth of her lips.

“Rafael…”

Once again, the way his name rolled seamlessly off Melanie’s tongue in that sultry, raspy tone of hers made Rafael’s stomach flip so heavily inside him he could all but feel it in his throat. He’d seriously never get tired of hearing her say it like that. With such intense want… Such shameless desperation for him having seeped through her words that it only maximised his own burning desire to have her. He leaned forward, feeling as her hands finally rose from the partial softness of her jeans to the firmness of his fast moving chest, of which his heart was hammering so furiously beneath that he was near certain she could feel it.

And she could.

It was practically mimicking her own with the way it was ready to burst free and dance across the floor given the sudden lack of distance between them. Even with the many alarms blaring in her mind, Melanie couldn’t seem to stop herself from pulling him closer. Her fingers travelled along the slight hardness of his pecs and wrapped themselves tightly around his suspenders, drawing him even tighter against the quivering heat of her own body as it cried out in a desperate need to finally feel the weight of his on top of it.

That might have happened, too, if it wasn’t for the arm of the couch stopping Melanie from being able to lie back and fully invite him into her. Given that, Rafael chose the next best thing he could think of and he shortened the distance between their faces, bringing his forehead to rest against Melanie’s and feeling the way she immediately tilted into him. Their noses brushed as she did, their breath mixing in the small pocket of air left between them and just as Rafael was about to close the gap fully and get to taste what he so frequently craved, Melanie whispered his name again.

Only this time, in a tone that completely contradicted that deep, piercing desire that clouded every sparkle in her eyes as she gazed at him, four more words followed suit.

And each one crushed his heart in the process.

“I can’t do this.” Melanie pushed him gently away the second those dreaded words passed over lips and she stood up, closing her eyes as she did so as to not see the utter heartbreak that cascaded over his own. She folded her arms across her aching chest, her stomach now churning to the brink of extreme nausea. “I can’t… I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

As she dropped one hand and lifted the bag from the table, Melanie was quick to round it and head for the door in her desperate need to escape before she suffocated. Or worse, threw her dinner up all over his carpet…her heart included. Only, before she could reach out and grasp the handle to freedom, Rafael’s fingers wrapped around her wrist and halted her place, her name slipping sadly from his lips and finally drawing her eyes back up to meet the pain that swam in his own.

“ Mi amor…”

“Don’t,” Melanie choked out, her heart crumbling in her chest as she easily pulled her wrist from the weak grasp of his hand. “Just… Don’t say anything.”

Rafael’s eyes softened, “Melanie…”

“Please, Rafael. I… I’m asking you not to make this harder than it already is,” Melanie whispered, her words as thick as the lump that rose in her throat over the confusion that warped Rafael’s hurt filled face. “For both our sakes, it’s better that this doesn’t happen.”

Rafael’s gaze narrowed, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” Melanie said softly, reaching out to gently cup the side of his face despite how much it pained her to do so. But she couldn’t help it. She was about to potentially break his heart into a million little pieces, so the least she could do was give him one final touch of comfort before she did so, “That maybe it’s time for you to listen to your fortune cookie…And let me go.”

And with that soul-crushing statement hitting him like a truck, Melanie was gone from in front of him before he could do so much as outwardly react let alone respond. Not that he even knew what to respond to something like that as he didn’t even know what to think, let alone what to say.

All he could do at that moment was sink back down onto the couch, his hand landing absently on the warmth of the spot Melanie had just occupied. He didn’t know what was going on with her…Where that sudden dismissal towards his affections had come from as it seemed to him like she was just as madly in love with him as he was with her.

Or at least, that’s what he’d thought as right now…He wasn’t sure that had ever been the case at hand.

The only thing he was sure about right now was that he was rather confused… Deeply, deeply confused and honestly, as he sat there with nothing to do but ponder his life’s next move, Rafael couldn’t help but think that perhaps he should have listened to his head earlier instead of his heart…

As maybe then… he wouldn’t be left alone feeling like it was in pieces.

<- Chapter 9 | Chapter 11 (coming soon) ->

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