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songbirdseung · 3 months ago

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sneaky / park sunghoon

where your secret not so secret boyfriend climbs through your window to see you after a long time genre fluff, est. relationship, tsundere bf hoon

it was a little past 10 pm, and you were sitting at your desk, drowning in notes, your room dimly lit by the soft glow of your bedside lamp. you were trying to stay focused, but the exhaustion from your long day was creeping in, making it hard to concentrate. the house was eerily quiet, with your parents having gone to bed hours ago. it wasn’t unusual for you to stay up late working, but tonight felt particularly tedious, like time was dragging.

just as you leaned back in your chair, contemplating whether to call it a night, a faint tapping sound came from the direction of your window. your head shot up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. the noise came again, a little louder this time. cautiously, you stood up and walked over, pulling back the curtains. your eyes widened in shock when you saw a familiar figure standing on the narrow ledge outside your window—sunghoon, grinning like he hadn’t just risked his life to climb up there.

you immediately opened the window, allowing him to slip inside with a little too much ease. “what the hell are you doing here?” you whisper-yelled, trying to keep your voice down so you didn’t wake your parents. “are you crazy?”

“what does it look like i’m doing? i’m here to see you,” sunghoon replied casually, brushing off his jacket as if it were no big deal.

“yeah, i can see that, but you’re climbing through my window? at 10 pm?” you gave him an incredulous look, shutting the window behind him.

he smirked, clearly amused by your panic. “relax, i’ve done this before. it’s not like your parents are gonna check your room.”

“i don’t care! if they catch you, we’re both dead!” you hissed, crossing your arms. you couldn’t believe he thought sneaking into your room was some normal, everyday thing.

sunghoon just shrugged, kicking off his shoes and making his way to your bed. he flopped down onto it with a dramatic sigh, stretching out like he owned the place. “you’re overreacting. besides, i haven’t seen you in weeks. aren’t you happy to see me?”

you rolled your eyes but felt a flutter of warmth in your chest. sure, you were frustrated, but deep down, you were more than a little excited that he had gone through all this trouble just to see you. “well, yeah, i’m happy to see you, but this isn’t exactly how i imagined it.”

he chuckled, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you. “how did you imagine it then? me walking through your front door with a bouquet of flowers?”

“something like that,” you muttered, still shaking your head at his recklessness. “you really are unbelievable.”

“hey, i’m nothing if not creative,” he said, shooting you a playful wink. “come on, you can’t say this isn’t romantic.”

“it’s something,” you admitted with a small smile, trying to stay mad but failing miserably. “but seriously, what if someone sees you?”

“no one’s gonna see me. i’m practically a ninja,” he teased, making himself more comfortable on your bed. “besides, it’s not like i was gonna just sit at home all night. i had to come see you.”

you let out a sigh, unable to fight the grin forming on your lips. “you’re impossible.”

“and yet, you’re still dating me,” he shot back, his voice full of smugness.

you shook your head, walking over to your desk. “yeah, because i clearly have terrible taste in men.”

“hey, now,” sunghoon said, sitting up on your bed and giving you a mock-offended look. “that’s not what you said the last time we hung out.”

you laughed, glancing over your shoulder at him. “okay, maybe not, but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for climbing up my window like a maniac.”

“aww, c’mon, don’t be like that,” he pouted, scooting over and patting the space next to him. “i’m here now, so just come cuddle with me. you can finish your work later.”

“sunghoon, i have a paper due,” you protested, even though the idea of snuggling up with him sounded way more appealing than continuing to work.

“you’ve been working all night,” he countered, tugging at your arm until you reluctantly joined him on the bed. “just take a break. you deserve it.”

you sighed but let yourself relax into his embrace, resting your head on his shoulder. “you’re lucky you’re cute, otherwise i’d kick you out right now.”

he let out a low chuckle, wrapping his arms around you. “i know. i’m irresistible.”

you scoffed, shaking your head. “you really don’t give up, do you?”

“nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’ with a smug grin on his face.

the two of you settled into a comfortable silence, your bodies fitting together as if you hadn’t been apart for weeks. you missed this—the simplicity of being close, without the pressures of schedules and distance getting in the way. sunghoon was never the best at showing his emotions, but moments like this, where he went out of his way to be with you, spoke louder than words ever could.

after a while, you glanced up at him. “i still can’t believe you did this. i mean, this isn’t exactly your thing.”

sunghoon smirked down at you, one eyebrow quirking up. “what do you mean by that?”

you gave him a teasing look. “you know, the whole sneaking into my room, rom-com style. usually, you’re more… stoic.”

“are you saying i’m not romantic?” he asked, pretending to be offended.

“i’m just saying it’s new,” you teased, poking his side.

he let out a soft scoff, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “just because i’m not cheesy doesn’t mean i can’t pull off the occasional grand gesture.”

“grand gesture, huh? sneaking through my window at 10 pm counts as a ‘grand gesture’ now?”

“absolutely,” he replied, his tone confident. “i risked my life climbing up here. i’d say that’s pretty impressive.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “okay, okay, i’ll give you that one. but you better not make this a habit.”

“no promises,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk. “i might just have to keep surprising you.”

you rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “fine. but next time, use the front door.”

sunghoon chuckled, pulling you closer. “we’ll see.”

the two of you lay there for a while, the soft hum of the night filling the room. eventually, you broke the comfortable silence, looking up at him with a playful pout. “you know, you still haven’t apologized for giving me a heart attack by showing up out of nowhere.”

“apologized?” sunghoon raised an eyebrow, his tone full of faux innocence. “why would i apologize for being the best boyfriend ever?”

you huffed, nudging him with your elbow. “i think i deserve an apology. and maybe some kisses to make up for it.”

he smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “fine, but only because you’re so needy.”

you laughed, tugging him back down for another kiss. “sure, hoon. whatever helps you sleep at night.”

he rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away, his lips lingering on yours for a little longer this time. “you’re lucky i like you,” he muttered, though the warmth in his eyes gave away more than he’d ever admit.

“i know,” you teased, pressing one more kiss to his cheek. “and i’m lucky you’re crazy enough to climb through my window just to see me.”

“yeah, well,” he said, his voice dropping to a soft murmur, “i’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #engene #enha #enhypen x reader #sunghoon #sunghoon fluff #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon enhypen #enhypen ot7 #enhypen park sunghoon #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon imagines

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devotedlyandrogynousyouth · 19 days ago

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Omg I love your writing can you please do a smut fic for Bruce Wayne’s wife asking him to be rough with her like asking to be spanked and chocked because he keeps treating her like she’s fragile and refuse to be rough in bed, she’s really small in stature so he’s always been scared of actually hurting her but she finally convinces him to finally be rough with her. Please ❤️❤️

GRRRR FOAMING AT THE MOUTH ON THIS ONE ABSOLUTELYYY

Sorry this one took a while to write, just had a major snowstorm recently that made a tree fall on the powerlines to my house. Currently running on mobile data to write this bc I won't have wifi till Sunday😀

Like You're Made of Glass

Bruce Wayne x Wife! Reader

Smut and a bit of fluff mixed in.

Alsooo!!! As per the request, the reader is depicted to be quite a fair bit smaller than Bruce, but if anybody wants a Plus Sized reader fic, Im totally down! We love body positivity over here, no matter who you are💜

"Come on, Bruce," Your voice is barely more than a soft, seductive whisper as your arms wrap around his broad, toned shoulders, "I'm not made of glass, you know." Bruce has been at it for hours at this point, the posture of his back absolutely suffering as he continues filling out paperwork at his desk. You would honestly be lying if you said it wasn't attractive, though: driven men are just so... Admirable.

Bruce couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that, despite barely glancing up from his patrol reports as you hug him from behind. "No, you're not," Your husband agrees softly, his voice, albeit slightly gruff from disuse over the past few hours, filling the study air with such a soothing melody. "But you are my wife. And, as far as I'm concerned, a certain Mrs. Wayne vowed that she would keep herself safe from any potential threat the night before we got married. That does include myself, for your information."

A soft huff falls from your lips at that, the sound echoing through the, otherwise silent, secured office. "And, as far as I'm concerned, a certain Mr. Wayne vowed to do anything for my happiness on our wedding day," The tease leaves your mouth as it finds it's way to his neck, the sound slightly muffled as you press soft, loving kisses to his tense muscles. "You promised a unicorn, if I wanted it."

He really couldn't help but crack a soft smile at that, which was a rare sight from the, otherwise stoic, Batman. A deep breath and slight sigh escapes his mouth as the pen leaves his hands and rests on the piles of milky, white papers. Bruce couldn't help but let his head fall to the side slightly to rest upon your cheek, which is still burried into the crook of his neck.

"I did promise you a unicorn," He agrees yet again in an even softer tone. That was the tone he used when he considered caving to his darling wife's pleading (which he almost always did). "And your happiness," Bruce adds after a moment as he lets his weary eyes flutter closed, breathing in your familiar and comforting scent.

“But happiness isn’t just about unicorns and fairy tales, Bruce,” you respond, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. The warmth in your eyes contrasts the cool sterility of the office, sparking something intense in the depths of his dark eyes. “It’s also about being able to live fully in every aspect, even between us.”

He furrows his brow slightly, processing your words, but he can't deny the heat rising from where your bodies almost touch and how it made his pants feel just that bit tighter. You have a way of igniting feelings he'd long buried under layers of duty and responsibility. “I just… I want you safe,” he replies, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

“I know you do,” you assure him, reaching out to trace your fingers along the strong line of his jaw. “But sometimes, I need you to let go—just a little. You don’t always have to protect me. I’m not a delicate flower needing shelter from the storm. I can handle more than you think.”

A flicker of uncertainty dances across his sharp features as he considers your request. His instincts scream at him to be careful, to treat you with the utmost caution. It feels impossible to shake the weight of years spent fighting villains and guarding against any potential harm. But then again, you’ve never been one to shrink back from challenges.

“And what exactly are you suggesting?” he questions, half-teasing, half-serious, lifting an eyebrow. The tension in the spacious office thrummed with electricity, and his heart raced in anticipation of your answer.

Your lips curl into a confident smile, emboldened by a newfound sense of liberation. “I’m saying… I want you to be you,” you say, your voice steady and full of promise. “The true you. Your passion is part of who you are, Bruce. Embrace it—embrace me. Let’s shake things up a bit.”

He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, the playful challenge hanging thick between you. “You mean you want the Batman?” he asks, his voice lowering further, laced with a darker edge that sends a thrill coursing through you.

“Exactly.” You lean closer, your breath fanning over his skin, whispering sweetly, “I want you to show me how much you can handle without worrying if it will break me.”

Bruce studies you closely, weighing the implications of your daring invitation. What if he lost control? What if he did hurt you, despite knowing you were more than capable of taking care of yourself? But then again, this was another side of you he had never truly explored. This vulnerable yet fierce woman in front of him—the perfect blend of softness and strength.

“Alright,” he finally concedes, his deep voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace. “But if I lose myself—”

“You won’t,” you interrupt, capturing his gaze with yours. “Trust me. Just let go.”

In that moment, the barriers that had always kept him restrained began to crumble. He leaned forward, capturing your lips with his, the kiss igniting a spark that felt both electrifying and intoxicating. The gentle brush of your mouths transformed into something deeper, more fervent, an unspoken promise exchanged in the heated embrace.

The tension of the day melted away, replaced by the rhythm of inspiration and passion. As you pulled him closer, your body pressed firmly against his, the world outside ceased to exist. Time stood still in the sanctity of the study as both of you surrendered to the moment, determined to reveal the hidden depths of your love for one another.

Bruce's hands found your waist, gripping the soft fabric of your shirt as he deepened the kiss, seeking to possess and protect all at once. There was urgency in his movements now, a storm brewing beneath the surface that had long been contained. Your heart raced at the primal energy radiating from him, and you could feel the anticipation thrumming through every fiber of your being.

Breaking the kiss, his breath was heavy and warm against your lips. "You want me to be rougher, then," he murmured, almost as if solidifying the agreement into existence. "Is that what you really want?"

You nodded vigorously, feeling your cheeks flush with a mix of excitement and desire. “Yes, Bruce. I’m ready. Just… take care of me afterward.”

With that affirmation ringing in his ears like a battle cry, Bruce transitioned effortlessly into this new role — the man beneath the mask, the guardian who had finally allowed vulnerability within the sanctuary of your shared intimacy.

He pushed you back until the desk met the small of your back, a flash of surprise dancing across your features. But before you could second-guess yourself, he captured your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. His frame loomed over yours, an embodiment of strength and restraint, the very image of the Batman you knew.

“Remember,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, “if it gets to be too much, you tap out.”

“Okay,” you whispered, anticipation flooding your veins.

With a quick motion, he brought his other hand down, delivering a sharp smack against your thigh that sent a jolt of electrifying pleasure coursing through you. You gasped, not from pain, but from exhilaration, your body instinctively arching to welcome him deeper into your world. A thrill spread through you as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Good girl,” he praised, another spank following, each strike sharper yet tinged with the tenderness of his touch. You squirmed beneath him, relishing the balance of pleasure and pain, the way that every strike lit up your skin and left a burning mark of his possession.

“More,” you urged, desperation coloring your tone, and he didn't hesitate to comply. Each slap echoed throughout the office, a rhythm punctuated by your soft cries and the heat radiating from Bruce’s body. He watched you carefully, assessing your reaction, the fierce protectiveness never fully disappearing from his gaze.

As the strikes continued, he leaned down and captured your neck between his fingers, applying just enough pressure to send a thrilling rush through your body without choking you. “You’re doing so well for me,” he murmured in that deep, gravelly tone that made your heart race even faster.

His actions intensified the fire within you, igniting a need that warped your perception of time and space. As he toyed with your neck, whispering praises and encouragements, your body responded instinctively, hungry for more of him, more of this exhilarating freedom he was giving you.

“Please, Bruce,” you gasped, your voice almost pleading. It felt like a confession, one that laid bare more than just the physical hunger you craved. “I want everything you can give me.”

A growl rumbled in his chest at that, a sound so primal and beautiful that it sent shockwaves through your entire being. A wicked grin crept onto his face as he transitioned from teasing strokes to something far more feral. He released your wrists, only to shift his grip to your hair, his fingers curling around the strands tightly yet tenderly.

“You asked for it,” he warned, a playful glint in his eyes before leaning forward, claiming your mouth with his again, the taste of you igniting the raw side of his nature. The kiss held none of the gentleness he usually afforded you; instead, it was possessive, driving, demanding.

As he did so, one of his large, calloused hands made it's way beneath your skirt to gently tease the skin of your thigh. The warm appendage slowly traveled up your leg, cupping the mass of your hip while his fingers slipped beneath the stretchy elastic of your panties. They were the pretty, lacy ones he picked up on his last big work trip out of the country.

The warmth of his lips was soon missed, however, as they trailed away from your own. But before you could whine at the loss of contact, his mouth trailed down to your jawline and neck, sucking and biting deep, purple marks into your delicate skin.

You didn't even have a chance to let out a small whimper at the assault on your neck before the sound of fabric ripping could be heard throughout the lavishly-decorated room. "Bruce!" You complain with a soft pout as you feel the reminants of the lacy cloth slipping down your thighs before landing in a small pile of shreds on the carpet floor.

"My deepest apologies, Mrs. Wayne," Bruce didn't bother to lift his head from your neck as he gave that shit-eating grin that you seldom see. He wasted no time in trailing his ring finger along your slick heat, collecting some of the moisture previously accumulating in your panties before trailing the digit up and around your sensitive bundle of nerves. "They're replaceable."

It didn't take long for your hips to be twitching softly, your husband's index and middle fingers tortuously and slowly trailing back to your weeping hole. His warm, calloused thumb moved to rub soft, languid circles on your clit as the digits slid their way inside of you, his lips never ceasing their attack on your, now bruising, neck.

"Baby-" Your whines were shortened in record time as Bruce used his free hand to cover your mouth, squeezing just enough on your jaw to get the point across. The slight stretch of his thick, long fingers inside of your cunt was divine: you almost couldn't help it.

"Speak when you're spoken to, beautiful," his voice was barely more than a rough whisper as his lips moved down your chest, removing the hand from your mouth to undo the first couple of buttons on your blouse. "I wouldn't want my wife out of place, would I? It's not safe for Batman's woman not to listen when given instructions."

His tone was almost enough to send shivers down your spine as your hips twitched yet again as his fingers pumped at a quickened pace, scissoring your gummy walls open to eventually accomodate for his girthy length. Almost immediately, your thigh is met with yet another loud 'smack!' in the otherwise quiet office. "Fuck, Bruce..." A soft whine escapes you, filling the air with your husband's favorite melody. He'd let you off the hook for speaking... This time, at least.

It felt like forever that Bruce spent eagerly fingering your dripping cunt, but that was to be expected. Even if he agreed to let go for the night, he could never risk seriously hurting his beautiful wife by not prepping her correctly. But, eventually, you felt that oh-so familiar tightening sensation in your stomach, your clit burning with pleasure as your husband rubbed at the sensitive spot.

But, then, he stopped.

Bruce had never denied you an orgasm before. In all honesty, you thought you were going to cry as he pulled his fingers away from your cunt, the muscles now clenching desperately around nothing but thin air. Before you could so much as make a pout, he was holding his two fingers to your lips, the digits gleaming with your own fluids. "Suck."

And, for a moment, you laid there as you processed his command. The gesture seemed so obscene but, god, you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on nonetheless. So, you gently parted your plush, kiss-swollen lips for him and embraced the pallete of the liquids created by none other than your weeping, aching hole.

Bruce let out a soft, pleased hum at that, pushing his fingers completely into your mouth before slowly unbuckling his belt with his unoccupied hand. You couldn't help but notice that it was tour favorite belt, the one with your initials engraved into the metal clasp currently making it's way to the carpeted floor of the study.

As always, you felt your heart give a soft flutter at the sight of your husband's hard, leaking cock as he freed it of his boxers, letting them fall down to his ankles before stepping out of them and allowing then to join the pile of scraps you once called your favorite panties. You were so entranced by Bruce you hadn't even noticed that youd stopped sucking on his soaked digits.

'Smack!'

Yet another echo came from the soft skin of your thigh as his free hand came in contact with it, the lewd sound bouncinf off of the filled bookcases. "Did I ever tell you to stop?" The tone he used was one you very rarely got to hear, usually reserved for the scumbags he interrogated during the dark Gotham nights.

It was hot.

You shook your head slightly as you looked up at those beautiful, blue eyes, now darkened with what could only be described as feral lust. This, yet again, earned a soft hum of approval from your husband. "Good girl..." He praised in a soft whisper, his unoccupied hand reaching to carefully align the tip of his length up with your heat. "I want you to tap out if it's too much. I need you to tap out if it's too much.

And before you could even utter another whimper, Bruce was sinking his girthy cock into your wet folds. He wasted no time in plowing himself into you, the hard slapping echoing through the study so loudly that you worried if one of the kids were to walk by, they'd have a horrendous image of their adoptive parents burned into their skulls. But all of those thoughts vanished as Bruce shoved his fingers even further down your throat, just barely leaving you enough room to breathe without a significant struggle.

If you had the ability to, your head would be falling back and your jaw would be slack in utter ecstasy. The most you could do for the moment was moan around your husband's thick fingers while he plowed into you, the mahogany desk creaking slightly from the pressure below. In all honesty, you were convinced Bruce would break the desk before he was through. Even then, it didn't seem like he had any intentions of stopping.

"Such a good girl for me..." This was so much different than the Bruce you were used to. Your Bruce held you as close as possible while whispering declarations of love and claiming that you're the best thing to ever happen to him. This Bruce wasn't holding you like a porcelain doll, but instead keeping himself at the best angle to ram into your pretty pussy as hard as he could. "That's my pretty little cunt, isn't it?"

The best you could do was let out a pornographic whine around his fingers, spit dripping down from the corners of your stuffed lips and making it's way down tour flushed and heated cheeks. Despite his literal decades of experience, it took all of his effort not to cum right then and there with your warm, gummy walls milking his length.

Pound after pound.

Slap after slap.

For what felt like eternity, that's all that could be heard. At this point in your sexual adventure, Bruce was determining that he much rathered ramming into your tight little hole when you were still partially clothed. It gave him something more to imagine the next time he saw you in the office and didn't have the chance to bend you over his desk.

And, for the second time that night, you felt that firey, knotted feeling arising in the pits of your stomach. As your fingers reached up to gently tangle your fingers into his, now messy, hair and give it a soft tug, the most you could do otherwise was give him a pleading look, silently begging for him not to rip away yet another orgasm in one night.

At first, Bruce debated edging you at least once more. But when he finally looked into those gorgeous eyes, now hazed over with need, trust, and love, he decided that the rest of the teasing could wait for another night. "Are you going to cum, beautiful?" His voice is ragged and interrupted by a soft groan as he speaks. "Is my pretty little wife going to cum all over my cock?"

While you nodded desperately, still begging for your release to be granted, he kept his pace steady while giving a soft nod, the hair on his forehead sticking slightly with the sheen layer of sweat forming. Within moments, your gummy walls were clenching down around his thick length like there was no tomorrow, covering his shaft with the milky fluid that splashed up onto his pelvic bone and thighs slightly. "Bruce..." Your endless whimpers of his name were bately audible over the thick digits still shoved into your mouth.

As Bruce's hips began to stutter and his groans became more prominent, you wrapped your sore and achy legs around him. "Stay," You whimpered as he removed his fingers in favor of wrapping his arms around your shoulders, almost hugging you as he kept you pinned over the mahogany desk. "Give it to me. Don't pull out. Don't you fucking dare pull out."

That was all it took for Bruce's face to be burried in your shoudler, letting out a low moan as his cock painted your insides with his sperm. Even after he came, your husband still moved slowly in and out of your weeping cunt, prolonging the ecstasy of both of your orgasms as long as possible. Had the two of you ever talked seriously about kids? No, but he could pick up a Plan B in the morning.

"Fuck..." Was all Bruce muttered into your skin before peppering your skin in light kisses, each one trailing upward until his lips met yours in a soft, loving contact. This was the loving husband you were used to. When he finally pulled away and helped brush some of the hair now sticking to your forehead from the sheer layer of sweat covering your body out of the way, he only had three words. "I love you."

Masterlist

#batfam #batfamily #batman #dc #bruce wayne x reader #batman smut #batman x reader #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne fanfiction #bruce wayne

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riseatlantisss · 1 year ago

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The end we start from

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader/Tav Around 1,8 words Takes place after the events in Cazador's palace in act 3 (non-ascended Astarion, established relationship) Angst with a happy ending (and loooots of sex) <3

Astarion doesn’t feel good enough. you show him he’s everything.

TW : 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, very angry/angsty/rough sex, fingering, mature language, mentions of death and depression, mentions of blood

A/N : when i don’t work, i do two things: i take care of my dog and i play BG3. i don’t eat. i don’t sleep. i don’t socialize. i just play BG3. and I write stuff about *him*.

Astarion is many things. Quiet is not one of them. But lately, that’s all he’s been, and you’ve been worrying about him night and day. Tonight is no exception. You wake up in the middle of the night and realize two things : not only is Astarion’s side of the bed empty but the sheets and pillows are untouched, uncrumpled. His side hasn’t been slept in. This isn’t right. Of course, he doesn’t really need to sleep but he always, always lays next to you at night, spooning you, playing with your hair and whispering sweet I love yous in your ear until you fall asleep. His absence means something’s off. Unable to shake off the anxiety, you get up in one swift motion, determined to find him. No chance you’re falling back asleep now anyway.

Your bare feet hit the cold marble floor and you shiver as you make your way accros the bedroom in a hurry. You think of searching outside in case he went for a hunt, but it turns out you don’t have to look too far. There he is, silently leaning against the wall by the window, gazing into the pitch-black night of the Underdark. The light in the room is so dim that you couldn’t even spot him from your bed. You approach him and your heart breaks a little when you notice the lingering sadness in his crimson eyes, enhanced by the faint light of the burning candles next to him.

You want to ask him if he’s ok but it’s obvious he’s not so instead, you remain silent and close the space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him and gently resting your head on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask softly after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion averts his gaze and gives you a faint smile, nothing but a twist of lips.

“Nothing,” he replies. “I’m just being selfish, as usual. Forgive me, y/n.”

You frown and stare at him incredulously. “You’re not selfish,” you say, surprised at how intensely he means it. “Why would you even say that?”

“I –” He pauses, rethinks his words. This does nothing to make you less worried. “I caused you great pain,” he finally says. “I put you in danger. Repeatedly, ever since we met. You could have died a hundred times and it would have been my own, entire fault.”

You look up to him and feel a lump form in your throat. You have never seen him look like this – grief in his eyes and etched into the lines of his face.

“I’m not dead, Astarion. I’m right here with you.” You say as you wrap your arms around his neck. He makes a sound somewhere near a sob and your arms tighten.

“But I did put you in danger and now you’re stuck with me for eternity, in the middle of nowhere, and you—" Again, he stops. He’s bad at this, at talking about emotions. But he fights through it because it’s you. And nothing can be left unsaid between the two of you. Not after everything that’s happened. “You deserve so much better. You deserve the world, and I can’t give it to you.” You’re not sure where this conversation is going but you don't want to find out. His lower lip quiver but he goes on, words spilling out of him like blood from a wound. “I can’t give it to you, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it. It’s killing me all over again.” You crumble under each one of his words. His lips are trembling now and you can’t stand it. You can’t but you can’t do him the dishonor of looking away either.

“Astarion, I chose this life.” Your hands flutter to his face, each one cupping a cold cheek, forcing him to look at you. Your heart is pounding, and you know he can feel it. “I had a choice; I could stay, or I could run, and I chose you. I’m not stuck here. I’m home.”

Astarion heaves a faltering breath in an attempt at composure. “Sometimes I think you would be happier without me. Better off.” He barely mouths the words, but you hear them all distinctively, nonetheless. “You should go and leave me here. Walk in the sun. Be happy and live your life.” You draw your hands away from his face and he steps back, speaking louder now.

“It won’t get any better in here,” he continues, gesturing urgently around the room. “It’ll always be cold and dark, I’ll always be a blood-thirsty monster. I belong to the shadows, and I’ll never be able to make you happy, so you might as well just leave.”

His words knock the air out of your lungs and, for a moment, you cannot breathe. You feel your pulse pounding in your veins and blood thrumming under your skin as your heartbreak turns into anger. That fucking idiot, you think, looking up at him through eyes blurred with tears.

“You don’t know what makes me happy. You don’t,” you shout, surprised by the vehemence in your voice. "And you certainly don't get to speak for me." Astarion looks at you in such confusion that you almost feel bad for a moment, but you continue.

“You – you make me happy, Astarion, gods you do. I would rather live an eternity in the Underdark with you than one more day in the fucking sun.” Your heart is clenching in your chest, and you can feel the heat pooling in your cheeks. “By no means would I be better off, let alone happier, without you. I can’t believe that you could even think –” You trail off and sigh in frustration. You can’t bring yourself to scream at him any longer because that’s all he’s ever known before you, screams and shouts and abuse, and you can’t do this to him. But that doesn’t leave you with many options to get through to him. Astarion opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t let him.

Without warning you grab his shirt to pull him close and your lips crash into his, knocking the breath out of both of you with the force that you collide with. It only fuels your rage because the moment his lips are on yours, you can’t help thinking that you almost lost this once and you can’t actually lose it. You won’t let that happen. So you kiss him harder. It’s rough and desperate and sloppy. It's harsh breath and biting teeth.

He turns you around and backs you against the wall. You take it rather hard, but you welcome the sting. Anything to shut him up about not being good enough for you. He crowds in closer, presses you even harder against the wall, shoving his knee between your thighs. His cold lips connect to your throat, making you eagerly tilt your head to give him access to your thrumming pulse dancing at your neck. You have absolutely no qualms about it. If he wants it, it’s his.

But he doesn’t take it. Instead, his mouth sucks and licks, making you squirm and rock your hips against him. You cling to him, grabbing his shoulders and sliding your hands down his shirt and to his back. He hoists you up like you weighed nothing and you wrap both legs around his waist. You tangle your hands in his curly silver hair and pull him forward to feel that mouth on yours again. His tongue running over your lip makes you grind faster, searching for more, more, more. You moan when his hand reaches beneath your gown and through your damp underwear.

Firm, icy fingers are stroking you into madness. You make a sound that’s close to a whimper, but more like a groan, because damn it, you are so impatient now. You are clenching – aching to have him inside.

He is gasping at the feeling of your fluttering around him, and you must be gasping too, but you’re not sure; your head falls back and it feels like you’re breathing, but you could just as well be drowning.

You dig your nails hard into his back - you need to channel the anger into something. Maybe you’ll be the one drawing blood this time. You lean forward to rest your dizzy head on his shoulder and groan in anticipation. Not wasting anymore time, he pushes his hard, large cock into you, going steadily until he’s all the way in.

“Harder. Fuck me harder.” You plead and he obeys.

He sets a pace that graces all the right spots, spurred on the increasingly desperate noises escaping your mouth. This is no effort at all for him, holding you up easily and fucking you hard with determination. But you can see it when you rest your forehead against his – the sheer weakness you feel is reflected right back at you and you know he needs this just as much as you do.

You are so close. You need to concentrate on breathing, just so you simply don’t die. Your lower back thuds against the wardrobe with your oh gods and fucks singing in tandem. The vampire trails open-mouthed kisses and little bites down your neck while maintaining the almost vicious pace in and out of you. Every stroke curls and loves and breaks you into submission. You forget to be angry because your release is in his hands and your body is desperately handing itself over to him.

Your thighs start to quiver around him, the sounds of wetness and the feeling of his own explosion of pleasure deep inside you taking you so high that eventually, you shatter into him. You’re so grateful for the strength holding you up, so you can fall apart.

Your repeatedly moan his name on your way back to consciousness, lips brushing softly against his pale skin.

Before you know what is happening, you break into a sob.

“Please…. Please don’t ever tell me to leave, ever again.” You try to articulate, your voice shaking uncontrollably.

He sinks down onto his knees, holding you in his lap and whispering, “Shh,” into your ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice is low and full of gravel. He never sounded so sweet. “I love you, always have and always will. And you’re not going anywhere.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

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The House Guest 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“When I said I owed you,” you whisper and look over your shoulder.

“Talk as quiet as you want, he’s got super hearing. Can’t even squeak out a silent but deadly with this guy,” Sam chuckles.

“Wow, that’s gross,” you crinkle your nose.

“I can be a nasty boy.”

“Not better,” you give him an apprehensive look as you face him. “I saw him on the news.”

“Hey, I was there too,” Sam chirps.

“I know that but...”

“He got a bit trigger happy. We’re just waiting for things to blow over. He needs a calming personality.”

“So not you,” you retort.

“No, not me. I’m into choking but not by him,” he snickers.

“I can hear you,” the man leaning on the car hood snaps back as the sucker in his mouth hits his teeth.

“Oh, I know,” Sam shoots a finger gun in his direction. “Also, he’s giving up smoking so he’s a bit testy.”

“No, I spent eight hours in a car with you so I’m pissed off,” the grumbly sidekick hurls back.

You look between them. Sam Wilson, the new Cap, superhero, avengers, comedian, and Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, assassin, and... mystery. You should refuse. You owe him but that much? A near-fugitive in your house?

“Sam, I don’t exactly got a guest room,” you cross your arms.

“Look, if the dame don’t wanna take me, don’t twist her arm,” Bucky sneers and bites into the sucker, scraping the stick with his teeth. “I can figure myself out.”

“That’s what you said before the explosion. I’m not falling for it again, man,” Sam shoots back and shakes his head. He puts his hands on his hips and faces you. “You’re not just doing a service to me, but to America.”

“Yes, okay, but this is Canada.”

His eyes drift in realisation and his lashes flutter, “right, but we’re allies.” He looks at you again and smiles, “I thought Canadians were nice.”

You roll your eyes. “Goddamnit. Fine.”

“Like I said,” Bucky approaches, “I can go somewhere else. I don’t wanna be a burden.”

“It’s not you,” you assure him. “There isn’t much space, that’s all. If you’re fine with that, so am I.”

“I told him, it’s not a big deal,” Bucky huffs. “But he insists.”

“I have to insist. I’m the Captain now.”

“You keep saying,” he turns on Sam. “So why don’t you get that shield and we’ll see if you’re really up to that title.”

“Alright, alright,” you step between them. You’re not a fan of conflict. Sam knows that and that’s why he brought him here. “No need to argue. You got a couch,” you look at Bucky then turn to the other man, “and you have a long ride home.”

“Wait, you’re kicking me out?” Sam says.

“If you stay any longer, I won’t stop him. I said he could stay, I said nothing about mediating whatever this is,” you wiggle your finger between them.

Bucky snorts. He’s just as bad as Sam. They seem to only know how to goad the other.

“Fair. I mean, you don’t want this guy getting any grumpier. He’s already such a treat,” Sam smirks.

“Enough, I just told you,” you wag your index at him. “Well, nice to meet ya,” you turn and offer your hand to Bucky, “welcome to Canada.”

“Thanks,” he says, though you can sense him staring down the other man.

“Sam, have a safe trip. You need water or anything for the road?” You offer over your shoulder.

“Nah, I think I’m good. A nice ride home alone. With good music. Think I’m set.” He cackles.

“You wouldn’t know good music if it shot you in the face,” Bucky growls.

“Dude, go get your bag out of my car,” Sam snips. “Good riddance, is what I say.”

“Drive safe,” you shake your head as you walk toward the house. “I was in the middle of something.”

You climb the porch steps and leave the inner door open as the screen door snaps shut behind you. Out of sight, you stop to shake off the adrenaline. You only realise then how the unexpected rival stirred you up. You weren’t ready for Sam but especially not a houseguest. Still, the only reason you have this place is because of that man. You can do this.

You take a breath and go back to the kitchen. If Sam trusts Bucky, you can too. You’re not one to welcome in strangers, especially men, but this is different. And even if he asked, it wasn’t much of a choice.

You wash your hands and dry them before pushing your sleeves back up. The striped button-up isn’t exactly your Sunday best. You add breadcrumbs to the bowl of raw beef as you hear footsteps on the porch. The door opens slowly and gently hits the frame. You listen to your guest as he sighs in the entryway.

The house is small. One-floor, a single bedroom, a bathroom, a living room and a kitchen with a small dining table that doubles as your workspace. It isn’t much, but it’s yours. And it’s history. Your family’s.

You sense him hovering just outside the doorway. You glance behind yourself and hang your hands over the brim of the bowl. You still need to chop the veggies but that can wait. It isn’t his fault Sam decided this would be the balance in the scales.

“Let me show you around.” You cross the kitchen as he peers through.

His beard is dark, his hair overgrown and pushed back behind his ears, and tugs at the bottom of his denim jacket. He looks skittish as you approach. He has a duffel bag in his hand.

“Look, sorry if I came off short. You know how Sam can be,” you say.

“I do. He assumes a lot,” he mutters.

“Sure does. So, like I said, it’s not a big house. Kitchen here,” you point over your shoulder, “living room behind you, bathroom down the hall and the bedroom. There’s a back door. Yard’s bigger than the house.”

“Got it.”

“So, you’ll have to camp out on the couch but good news, it’s from 1987 so it folds out,” you squeeze by him and lead the way into the front room.

“Beats a full barracks,” he comments.

You nod and peek over at him. “Guess that makes sense.”

He sniffs, “thanks. Really.”

“Again, not too much,” you gesture to the room. “I gotta finish the meatloaf.”

“Think I can handle it,” he affirms.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #drabble #the house guest #mcu #marvel #captain america #winter soldier #avengers

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onlyswan · 11 months ago

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summary: in which you sacrifice your strawberries and eyelash wishes for the boy knocking at your door.

idol!jungkook x reader, strangers to friends (?) to lovers / fluff and a pinch of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: allusions to death and grief / jungkook is a cutie patootie and a blushing hopeless romantic mess / he wants to kiss oc so bad (me too bro) / oc is a sunshine <3 / they do chores and watch movies together :((( / in one scene he was worried oc would think of him as a perv lmao / they’re dorks and i love them / seokjin cameo hehehe

> in which masterlist!

note: to make up for the pain i may have caused and will cause <3 LOL. i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing :D as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! come chat w me. ily 🌼

—

“it’s so cold,” you mutter through chattering teeth.

the grocery bags sit on the hardwood table with a thud— the careless bringer too hasty. you shove your icy hands in the deep pockets of your jacket, breathing in and out with a sense of relief.

you are not granted the mundane euphoria for much longer, however. the doorbell rings and you are padding across the floor against your will. the cold air hits your face before it enters your apartment.

however, the happy smile that greets you blankets your heart with a type of warmth that is difficult to describe.

if you had to guess who was behind the door, you wouldn’t say the boy you’ve been fiercely pining over for the past month, but it is certainly who you’d be hoping for regardless.

“good morning!”

“oh! wait there for a moment!”

jungkook stands motionless by your open front door as you disappear into your apartment. confusion accompanied by curiosity, he tries poking his head inside, but then decides that he shouldn’t.

upon your return, his face lights up again.

“here you go!”

he accepts the jar of honey faster than he could think.

“w-why are you-?”

you tilt your head, lips forming a small pout. “isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“uh, actually-” he awkwardly pauses, hand that carries the heavy paper bag behind him suddenly feeling weak. “i came here to give you something.”

your eyes animatedly expand in surprise of the size of it, not at all expecting to receive a gift from him today. you do know that he’s fresh from japan, as you converse on the phone almost everyday… why would he come here almost immediately? and didn’t he say they weren’t given the chance to roam the city because of their work schedule?

“i just grabbed things i thought you might like. i hope i got most of them right?” he explains with a nervous chuckle as you take a look inside.

a diverse array of snacks; a beautiful journal painted with cherry blossoms; a hello kitty plushie; stickers, muji pens…

“oh my god, jungkook… these are too much. you didn’t have to.”

oh, curse the hopeless fluttering of your heart.

“wow, gifting your merch- that’s real idol behavior for you.” you tease him, referring to the hooded jacket that has their group logo on its plastic packaging. “thank you!”

“no but it seriously warms you up! i have one too!”

“jungkook, why are you so cute?!”

“ah, shut up! i’m getting embarrassed!” he whines, blushing. “just look at them later after i leave, how about that?”

“let go! it’s mine!” you glare at him, hugging the paper bag to your chest to deny his advances on snatching it away. “are you not leaving? don’t you have work?”

“i told you— it’s my rest day.”

“you did?”

“while we were texting last night.”

“oh,” you blink. “i don’t remember reading that.”

“you? what are you doing today?”

you bite back the smile threatening to give away the thoughts running in your mind a thousand miles per hour. why does he want to know?

“nothing special. just chores the entire day.”

jungkook puts his hand inside the pocket of his coat, an attempt to appear casual as he offers you his valiant effort. “do you want some help? i’m good at doing chores.”

you stare at him, perplexed, as if he just said the most ridiculous sentence you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

“it’s your rest day and you want to do chores?”

“sure,” he grins playfully, not at all seeing how that could be wrong. “why not?”

“you know…” you pause— observing his expression, considering shutting your mouth, but that plan rarely ever works out. “you can just say that you want to spend time with me, right?”

your bluntness sends his heart racing. you’re a danger to his health.

he sinks his perfect teeth on his bottom lip, bringing his dimples into view. to be honest, you didn’t always have a thing about dimples. you didn’t consider them all that special. but why do they make him look cute and sexy at the same time?

his cheeks become tinted with a pale scarlet. you’re wearing that friendly beam again; he doesn’t know how to act. he never knows whether you are joking or not.

“well, now i know.”

—

jungkook sets down the jar of honey on the table as he settles in the living room, fascinated doe eyes darting around every inch of your place. it’s not his first time here, but somehow, it looks different each time. the two frames hanging above the sofa captures his attention all over again, colorful drawings against the plain white wall. gifted to you by your siblings, you said.

a tall castle with a happy family. a little boy slaying a dragon to protect a princess from its savage fire.

he is blissfully unaware of the knowledge that the drawings are the lone survivors of a school bus and a tragedy. you want it to stay that way. you want people to feel the opposite of the sadness you feel when you look at them. that is how you seek your peace.

“are you wearing toe socks?”

“huh?” he makes a sound of confusion, only processing your question upon seeing your gaze trained to his feet. “ah- toe socks- yes.”

“i’m only noticing them now. they look funny.” you scrunch your nose, chuckling.

“don’t laugh! they’re so comfortable!”

“really?” your eyes widen with genuine interest. “i should try them then.”

“yeah, you should!”

he whips his head around as he jokingly voices out an observation.

“but ____, your house kind of looks different today… it’s almost like it’s cleaner than the last time i was here.”

you bury your face in your hands with a high-pitched wine, hiding from him in humiliation. you did not plan on inviting someone over that night, and he had to watch you run around organizing and picking up things— the scattered books all over the table and the floor; the jackets that have created a big heap on the small couch; the jewelry box that ended up on the dining table for some reason.

he laughs in endearment, unable to take his eyes from you. even the way your hair bounces as you furiously shake your head is pretty. wait, does that sound weird?

“that’s right, it should look different! the first thing i did when winter break started was clean up my mess.”

“what’s the first chore on the list then?” he catches the grocery bags in the kitchen from his peripheral. “were you putting away your groceries?”

“you really want to do chores? you don’t want to watch a movie or something?”

“aigoo, it’s fine!” he waves off your reluctance. “stop worrying! i already said i’d help you.”

“but it’s embarrassing…”

it’s either jungkook is denying your advances or he is simply dense. but the fact that he showed up at your door unannounced on his day-off despite complaining about his exhaustion from their hectic work schedule, you want to lean towards the latter and believe that he is… as good at chores like he claims to be.

“you must like fruits a lot.” jungkook comments as he is squatted infront of your fridge, sheltering the freshly bought perishables one by one.

kimchi, lettuce, strawberries, tangerines, shine muscat, apples…

this is an entirely different world through your lens.

it feels strange to watch another person restock your fridge for you.

“they’re easy to eat and i’m lazy to cook.”

he chuckles as he looks back at you, who is sat on the dining table, airy and carefree as you snack on a bag of assorted chocolates from the paper bag he brought. almost all of the white chocolates are gone, he notes.

“not because they’re nutritious?”

“that’s the bonus!”

“what is this?”

“cranberry juice.”

“and this?”

“oyster sauce.”

you energetically hop off the table, an idea lighting up the bulb in your mind.

“i have another recipe for you. french toast with strawberries, then drizzle some of the honey. should i make it for you?”

“ah!” he gasps as if he is in pain, but the truth is his mouth is watering. he hasn’t eaten breakfast, and he wanted to eat more for dinner last night but sleep proved to be much more enticing than food. “that sounds so good! i’m starving!”

“stand up!” you begin pulling at the back of his sweater, forcing him to remove himself from the floor. “i’ll make it! just go relax in the living room, okay?”

“but you just said you’re lazy to cook.” he tilts back his head, meeting your gaze. “i’ll help you.”

“i’m not lazy when it becomes to being a host.”

you bend down with a sweet smile, merely inches away from him, and jungkook swears the earth has stopped spinning on its axis. your face is natural and bare, except for the sheen of lip balm across your lips— and dear heavens, having you this close, you are so breathtakingly beautiful.

“they’re playing christmas movies on channel 36.” you announce, giving him the bag of chocolates. “and the remote is… somewhere on the sofa… or maybe the floor.”

and as he gets practically kicked out of the kitchen, your hands roughly pushing his back, he daydreams of kissing you and tasting sugar on your lips.

—

the sweet, addicting smell of the french toast— strong hints of butter and cinnamon— invades every corner of your apartment. consequently, it also compels jungkook to break your rules and insert himself in the kitchen again.

“you never give up, do you?”

“i don’t,” he agrees, nodding eagerly. he has successfully stolen the task of washing the strawberries, and then slicing them after. he endures the freezing water rendering his hands numb. “it’s a known fact.”

“are you saying i should study harder?” you cross your arms, expression painted with faux vexation.

“yes! exactly!” he humors you, grinning of amusement. “what’s my favorite color?”

you sigh, looking at him from head to toe.

“anyone can guess that from a mile away, jungkook.”

“fuck, okay. that’s fair!”

the sound of his laughter reminds of you reasons to stay through the cycle of the seasons. you don’t understand why, but for some reason, it has finally begun to feel like christmas. the only comfort that comes along with the cruel winter that nips at your skin; the blanket over your heart that provides a type of warmth one can travel to seek but will never be able to find alone.

“what’s my height then?”

“aren’t you six feet?”

the silence that follows is an answer enough for you. the noise of the television emerges now that none of you is talking. he pretends to be too busy to speak, transferring the strawberries over to the chopping board.

“yes, you’re ri-”

“liar!” you point an accusatory finger at him.

and he winces, guilty as charged.

“you hesitated!”

“tsk, i should’ve said yes faster! i wanted to experience what it’s like to be tall!” he regretfully purses his lips, eyebrows knitted as if he just lost the lottery. “but haven’t you read it online? even my shoe size and weight are there.”

“what? why do people even need to know that…?” you exclaim, flabbergasted. “i mean- of course i’ve searched up your name, but it feels like cheating on a test. does that sound silly…? it’s just more fun learning about you from you.”

you briefly walk away to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and jungkook is left at the counter with fondness blossoming in his chest, bleeding into the chopped strawberries staining his hands red.

he calls out your name.

“mhmm?” you hum in question, muffled by the water in your mouth.

“want to hear a fact about me?”

you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, eyes expanding with fueled interest. “what?”

“i’m actually very good in the kitchen.” he boasts his skills with the kitchen knife, quick and precise, the blade against the wood creating the satisfying click you usually only hear from cooking shows. “are you seeing this? huh…? what do you think?”

“so i’ve noticed. i want something new!”

at that, his shoulder sags in disappointment. to his demise, there goes another failed attempt at making you acknowledge that he is boyfriend material.

“what do you want to know? ask me questions.”

“what’s your ideal type?”

being in your presence for the past hour has gotten jungkook re-adjusted to your personality— straight-forward, bold, smart— so vivacious that it’s dizzying. you make him nervous and comfortable at the same time, and he doesn’t quite know how to explain it either. but you’re a breath of fresh air, the change that he has been anticipating to disrupt his routine.

“why do you want to know that?”

you shrug coyly, smiling like the troublesome vixen that you are. you rather enjoy the tension that has hung in the air. if you’ve learned something from the past: men are easy to get, not easy to keep. because they relish in the chase, getting strung along like this. so, shouldn’t you have your fun too? but even if jungkook’s intentions were pure, you can only imagine that seeing someone whose life revolves around their career is… the perfect recipe for disaster.

“i think who you like also says a lot about who you are as a person.”

“i like someone who is kind and funny…” he hums in thought, unconsciously slotting a piece of strawberry in between his lips. “and passionate about the things they love… mhmm, someone who can be honest with me.”

his words form a constellation named after you, unbeknownst to you, and he wants to say more but anticipating what comes next after you connect the dots makes his stomach twist. he doesn’t feel like an adult yet. he’s still just a young boy with a gorgeous crush and high ambitions that coalesce in his dreams.

“i like someone who has a really pretty smile, too.”

and he should probably stop staring, erase the dumb lovesick smile on his face. for fuck’s sake, it would be easier for him if you would just do the same. behind the sparkles of your eyes, there is something he’s been dying to decipher.

“okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

because you are so pretty, especially when you smile.

“nothing,” he replies innocently. “you? what’s your ideal type? who do you like?”

“i don’t know… no one has captured my heart yet. they’re not trying hard enough!”

every romance you’ve had so far has been a letdown.

“but i’m still looking. i’m young, and hot, and the universe is vast.”

“mhm, i see… that’s true, but maybe… you don’t want to be looking too far.” jungkook suggests.

you smirk. “so you agree that i’m hot?”

“you know. you don’t need me to say it.” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“but i want to hear you say it.”

“you’re very beautiful, ____.”

“but that’s not-”

“the food is ready! let’s eat it before it gets cold!”

he runs to the living room without waiting for you, and you seize the opportunity to squeal without a sound, punching the counter without actually punching— releasing the giddiness threatening to spill from the seams of your heart.

you don’t know if this is heading somewhere, nor do you expect it to, but where you are right now is a good place to be.

—

the movie playing on the screen has become more of a white noise to you, a family comedy far less fascinating compared to jungkook drizzling honey over strawberries and bread from a spoon. you wonder if he is aware how often he creates sound effects while he is doing something.

beside you, his body quakes with cackles during the scenes that an editor would definitely insert the classic sound of an audience’s collective laughter and holler. you stumble upon the understanding that his happiness lies in a myriad of things, and you would envy him for it if not for the fact that he is currently sharing that happiness with you. you laugh when he laughs, and being becomes a little less heavier at that moment.

another commercial break rudely interrupts and jungkook turns towards you. the two of you sit cross-legged, knees knocking against each other as you occupy nearly the entire sofa.

“hi!”

“hi.”

“what are your plans for the holidays?”

“my best friend’s family invited me to stay with them for christmas until the new year. it’s kind of been a tradition since…”

the end of your sentence hangs suspended in the air. you still can’t say it out loud.

jungkook knows they’re gone and you’re alone: only the plain and brutal truths.

the reminder that this is the third christmas you will not spend with your family; the thought that this would be the third christmas they would spend without you if the afterlife was real— they bring tears to your eyes at once, but you forcibly blink them away, shoving enthusiasm down your throat.

“how about you?” you take a bite from your toast, attempting to divert your thoughts to… anything else. “are you coming home?”

you hide so well behind a smile. it doesn’t occur to jungkook that his question rubbed salt on an open wound.

“i miss my mom but i can’t go home yet.” he pouts. “i have work on christmas day as usual. we’ve been preparing hard for it.”

“oh, that’s right! gayo daejeon?!”

he nods in confirmation.

the music festival has been an annual event for his group since they debuted, and he never feels the need to complain because not everyone is given this kind of opportunity. what’s extraordinary for most has become his ordinary, and what was once his ordinary like everybody else’s has simply become a thing of the past. nevertheless, he does not have regrets. he is living a good life, one that he believes is his fate. as long as he has a voice and it is being heard, then his existence has meaning.

“your family will surely watch you, so they’re still celebrating it with you in a way. making them proud is the best christmas gift you can give!”

and right now, in his life, you are the cherry on top. you were so cheerful and supportive about the final shows of their tour as well, raving about how amazing it is to perform three nights in a row at gocheok skydome.

“i’ll watch you too!”

he can’t help it— you’re driving him to be better at what he does. childishly, he wants show off and be the one to capture your heart.

“ah!” he groans. “that means i should work harder at practice tomorrow! i can’t mess up infront of you and my family!”

“why not me? you want to make me proud too?” you interrogate him jokingly.

“of course, it’s my job. it’s what i do best. i’ll make you see!”

“use me as motivation then. you can’t mess up, okay? you have to do well, jungkook! you better not make a mistake! my eyes will be focused on you only!”

his face is reminiscent of a deer caught in the headlights— the headlights being your wide, threatening eyes.

he releases a shaky sigh in dramatic fashion. “i don’t feel motivated, though? i’m getting pressured?”

you wheeze; the plate over your lap tilts along with its contents.

“this is tough love!”

jungkook nearly staggers to his feet. “…love?”

you roll your eyes, small corners of your lips still cheekily lifted. “was the french toast good?”

jungkook is interrupted before he can form a response.

“but if it tastes like shit, just lie to me!”

“what are you talking about?!”

oh my god, you’re too fucking good at making him laugh.

“you’re eating it too! you know it’s delicious!”

“maybe you got a bad batch!”

—

“i’m going to the laundry shop across the street. i’ll just be a minute.” you announce, hauling a laundry basket to the living room.

your strained grunts prompt jungkook to look up from his phone, and eventually to stand up with urgency and relieve you of your heavy, heavy burden.

“shit, how heavy is this?”

you’re not given a chance to protest as the basket is immediately stolen from your grasp; your lips part open but no words come out.

“i’ll come with you!”

“well, hopefully not more than twelve kilos.”

it’s definitely heavier than usual; mainly comprised of the thick and layered clothes you’ve been wearing to shield yourself from the unforgiving cold.

“let’s go.”

jungkook wraps his hand around your wrist, gently tugging. the butterflies in your stomach wakes up earlier than spring’s arrival.

“this thing is bigger than you.”

an extremely obvious exaggeration.

“i’ll be the one to carry it.“

—

jungkook wears a cap and a face mask underneath his hoodie, eyes barely even visible in his all-black getup for the public to see; and somehow you also find yourself with a scarf around your neck, pulled up over the bridge of your nose.

when the year 2017 rolled in, you predicted that more crazy, life-altering stuff would happen. it has been an on-going theme, a relentless domino effect that has brought you to your knees time and time again. but you never would’ve fucking imagined that this is how you would be wrapping it up. how the hell did you cross paths with a famous idol, and why is he carrying your laundry basket right now?

“wait here for a bit.” you bring both hands to the basket’s handles, coaxing him to let go. “i’ll just bring it inside.”

“are you only dropping it off? that’s expensive!”

“what?” you stare at him in bewilderment, not expecting him to utter such statement at all. “you’re talking like you’re not rich!”

“i’m not! and still,” jungkook becomes flustered underneath his disguise. “it’s good to be practical. anyway, we have a lot of time.”

“you sound more like a mom than my mom did.”

“shhh!” he shushes you, putting a finger over his face mask. “let’s just do your laundry ourselves.”

“why would you do laundry right now? you’re supposed to be resting in the first place!”

a tug of war ensues infront of the laundry shop. strangers doesn’t know better. you look like a married couple bickering over who should take responsibility of the chore.

“____, just let me, mhm? i’m a pro at doing laundry too! we’ll be done before you know it!”

“how are you good at everything? honestly, it sounds like a scam!”

“how dare you doubt me?” he gasps in offense. “i do my own laundry!”

“seriously?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“i’m serious!”

“i don’t think i believe you, though…”

“if you search online, you-” your voice echoes in his mind, and subsequently, jungkook cuts himself off.

‘it feels like cheating on a test. it’s more fun learning about you from you.’

“oh, nevermind. let’s go inside already. i’m freezing!”

“jungkook!” you whine, stomping your feet on the ground as you refuse to let go of the basket despite jungkook beginning to head inside.

“why?” he copies the childishness of your tone, and although you can’t see his face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you enough.

“we can’t…”

the adorable sight of you appearing to be so shy is foreign to him. he can’t help but to chuckle. “why not?”

your lips form a pout.

“my panties…”

you bring a finger to point at the basket.

“they’re in there too… i was only going to drop them off today because you came with me…”

“ah…” jungkook awkwardly freezes, unblinking. “wait, you’re right?”

why didn’t he think of that? he’s a fucking idiot. of fucking course. what if you take things the wrong way and you’re creeped out by him now?!

“fuck, sorry. i’m sorry. i wasn’t- um, i swear i wasn’t trying to…”

his tongue becomes tied, struggling to search for the words that won’t make him sound like a damn pervert.

yeah, way to go, jungkook. you’re not the fucking boyfriend yet and you’re ruining your chances.

“did i make you uncomfortable? i’m sorry. it probably looked li-”

“hey, breathe, calm down. it’s alright, jungkook.”

you giggle in amusement, placing a hand over his chest— his heart. it’s meant to ease him, but the knowledge that you’re feeling his racing heartbeat only causes it to further intensify. he swallows the lump in his throat, dumbfounded by the turn of events. he wants the ground to swallow him whole, but he also wants to stay in this moment a little while longer.

“it’s alright. i’ll go bring this inside then i’ll treat you to lunch at the restaurant over there! don’t run away from me, okay?”

—

“the yukgaejang looks good.” you utter absentmindedly, admiring the spicy beef soup with plentiful vegetables from afar. “i’m jealous of you.”

the other tables are already having a feast while you and jungkook are waiting for your take-out to be prepared.

“then you should’ve ordered it too.” jungkook scolds you lightheartedly. “should i go?”

“no! i’m not good with spicy food. spice makes me cry.”

he smiles softly. once again, you complete the picture from his eyes. “what is there to frown so sadly about?”

“i feel like i’m missing out.” you complain, the pout on your face almost permanent. “spicy food is like one of the trademarks of korea, you know? but i can’t handle it!”

“so cute…” jungkook has decided to give in to his impulses, it seems— the evidence is him pinching your cheek for the very first time, and with the discovery of its delightsome softness, it will definitely not be the last.

“oh, oh, oh! an eyelash!”

his doe eyes glisten with pure wonder and excitement, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended when his hand moves to tenderly cup the side of your face. as he is absorbed in capturing the tiny eyelash that has fallen and glued itself on your cheek, your mind reels with the size of his hand, the sensation of his innocent touch against your neck.

“aaand-” jungkook takes your hand, passing on the eyelash to your index finger. “there you go. make a wish!”

your eyes flicker down, and none of you speaks for a moment or two.

a wish…?

what does one wish for when they have given up on wishing for miracles?

“did you do it?”

you peek at jungkook, nodding. at last, you blow the eyelash away, outside the window, where it becomes one with the snowflakes that came from the same sky where wishes are supposedly granted.

“what did you wish for?”

“i’ll tell you when it comes true.”

—

jungkook eats so well— you feel full just by watching him eat. so when he asked you, eyebrows knitted and legs bouncing, if he could have more rice, you were left with no choice but to plug in the rice cooker for the second time today. you cooked only enough for two meals today: brunch and dinner for one. you’re more than happy to have given him the dinner portion. you like that your apartment is providing warmth for another soul, despite the old times that it housed ones that ended up haunting you.

“are there any more chores to do? while we wait for the rice?”

you gaze switches from him to the living room.

the boy who was knocking at your door is now vacuuming your floors.

you sit on the couch with your legs hugged to your chest, chin propped on your knees. an unexplainable feeling swims in your chest, but your heart calls to welcome it. not to be delusional, but technically, isn’t this a marriage proposal?

it falls on dear ears— the infuriating sound of the cheap vacuum cleaner your landlord lended you and never came back for. underneath it is jungkook’s mellifluous voice, humming and singing, and it’s all you can hear.

the only use you knew of honey is the magic it does with tea for a sore throat. when you learned about his demanding occupation, he is all you can think of in relation to the elixir. since then, you’ve been taking the god awful amount of honey your pesky neighbor provides without any complaints.

this is nice… this is good. you are glad that you opened the door.

—

after a hearty and satisfying meal, you and jungkook retired to your previous spots infront of the television screen. more of the snacks he bought for you ended up being shared. near your stacks of books are colorful food wrappers and half-empty glasses of water. two mediocre yet entertaining movies later, you tell jungkook that you should pick up your laundry before the shop closes in an hour. however, after he has excused himself to the bathroom, he is greeted by the sight of you peacefully asleep on the sofa.

once more, a new side of you is laid bare, and his affection grows. he doesn’t know when he can admire your face this close again without melting from your stare.

heedful of disturbing your much deserved rest, he carefully places a pillow beneath your head, and he pulls down the blanket you’re wrapped in to cover your cold feet.

with one last stolen glimpse, he grabs your key and receipt from the bowl and leaves.

—

“is it time for you to leave?” you delicately rub at your eyes that are still half-closed; voice quiet, barely there.

you were awoken by the front door opening and closing, but nothing has quite registered to your fuzzy brain yet, except for the coat that you neatly kept and is already re-worn by its owner.

and he knows you’re most probably just sleepy, but the way you’re gazing at him as if you’re sad to see him go makes his heart clench.

“no, i picked up your laundry.” he enlightens you, consciously speaking with refined tenderness, as to preserve the serenity that has enveloped the atmosphere. “i can stay until eight. is that okay?”

you release a weary sigh, nodding. “of course… and you’re such a nice friend, thank you.”

he plops down on the sofa, filling the jungkook-shaped space beside you.

tired… you’re so tired… despite the given privilege to finally sleep to your heart’s content, you’re still so tired. your forehead lands softly on his shoulder, and unbeknownst to you due to your stupor, jungkook’s breath hitches— the polar opposite of the steady rise and fall of your chest. you make him swoon. he deliberately ignores the fact that you just called him a friend.

you peer down at the floor, past the curtain of your disheveled hair, slowly blinking. those ridiculous toe socks… you giggle in secret.

“jungkook?”

“yes?”

“are you cold?”

“freezing.”

you lift your head and he knows— you have to be playing games with his heart, bringing the temptation to kiss you so painfully close. “do you want some tea?”

—

the performance has commenced but the passionate screams of the audience still rings in jungkook’s ears as he runs backstage, chased by the staff attempting to wipe the sweat he is practically bathing in. he squeezes one eye shut as beads of sweat threaten to enter it. his chest heaves with exhaustion and his heart pumps with overwhelming adrenaline. most of the time, this job doesn’t feel real. he feels high. this is the textbook definition of a dream.

“where’s my phone? please? does anyone have it?” he yells in the midst of the chaos and clamor as he completely strips off his in-ears.

a hand reaches towards him with the device, and his expression of gratitude gets lost somewhere among the repetitive reminders of the remaining time before they should have returned to their designated seats.

he allows the hair and make-up stylists to do their jobs, him as their doll in need of a retouch. on the other hand, he impatiently waits for his phone to power on.

the tapping of jungkook’s foot ceases, and from his glowing reflection on the vanity mirror, the clueless people surrounding him witnesses love strike.

guess my eyelash wish worked like a charm. your performances went really well

and you looked so cool on stage ☺️

merry christmas jungkook ❤️

“jungkook-ah, what are you smiling at?!”

seokjin cackles. jungkook didn’t even notice him roll his chair so close. he then decides to play dumb to tease their youngest one.

“wow, who is this ____ you’re texting?”

“hyung!” jungkook panics, hissing underneath his breath. “lower your voice!”

“ouch!” seokjin yells, rubbing his arm that was hit as a punishment.

he allows a moment of silence.

his expression goes blank and he avenges himself.

“ah!” jungkook gasps as the slap on his thigh resonates, forced to be ripped away from overthinking a text message. “hyung! you better start running!”

Draft: i know it’s late.. but can i see you later?|

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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the-lives-i-am-not-living · 3 months ago

Text

Returning the favor

Summary: Logan isn’t feeling well. He looked after you when you were sick a few months earlier, so you want to return the favor. But he doesn’t seem eager to accept your help.

Warnings: some swearing, but other than that it’s all fluff! Note: oh lord, this one really got away from me… But somehow I’m on fire this week after not having any inspiration whatsoever for a long time. Enjoy it while it lasts ;) (I might change the formatting here and there after posting - I'm not used to it yet)

--------

“Logan…? Jean said I would find you here…” Sticking your head through the doorway of Logan’s room, you find him lying in bed. The duvet covers him all the way up to his chin and his eyes are closed. It’s midday, but he hasn’t bothered closing the curtains. Upon recognizing your voice, he cracks one eye open. “Are you okay?” you ask carefully. “You don’t look too good.” Logan blinks groggily. “I’ve felt better.”

You walk over to him and place your hand on his forehead. You only need a second to feel that he’s burning up. “God, you’re running a fever!” “I’m fine. Just let me sleep it off,” he grunts and turns on his side, facing away from you. “Have you taken any medicine at all?” you ask. “Nah.” “I’ll go get you some. And some water. Oh, and a cold washcloth!” “You don’t need to -” “Logan,” you say admonishingly. “You were so nice to me when I was sick. Let me return the favor.” He sighs loudly. “You don’t owe me anything.” You’re having a hard time staying serious while this man refuses to face you. “What’s so bad about someone taking care of you every once in a while, hm?” You poke at his back. “Is the prospect of me getting you soup, or me keeping you company so horrible?”

Logan turns on his back again and raises an eyebrow at you. “Are you gonna keep badgering me until I cave?” You pretend to mull it over, and then say: “Yup.” “Fine,” he mutters. You flash him a toothy grin. “I’ll be right back.” Logan’s looking out of his window when you return with your 'medical supplies' . “Okay, mister,” you say as you put down the glass of water on his nightstand. “Ibuprofen first.” He sits upright, obediently takes the pill from your hand and swallows it with a gulp of water.

Next, you hold up the wet washcloth. He initially seems wary, but the moment the cold fabric touches his forehead, his eyes fall shut and a content sigh escapes his mouth. You suck in your lips, suppressing a chuckle. It’s nice to see him relaxed. It’s nice to take care of someone. You stay like this for a few moments, not wanting to ruin the moment. Then, you whisper: “I’ll come back in half an hour or so to cool it again.” When you turn to leave, you feel his hand brush your arm. “Would you… Do you wanna talk about something?” He looks embarrassed as you meet his eyes. “It might distract me from feeling like shit.” You feel the corners of your lips curl up. “Do you have a preference for a topic? I can talk about family drama, or a TV show that I’m really into, or…” His embarrassment dissipates. “Y’know what, give me the family drama.” You let out the chuckle this time. “Gotcha.” Grabbing a chair from the other side of the room, you mirror the situation you were in with Logan a few months ago. It feels a bit surreal. But he doesn’t fall asleep.

Whilst regaling Logan with stories of your sister’s aggravating husband and his family, he comments on things, chuckles, and occasionally tsk’s. A few times, when you look away for a bit and return your gaze to Logan, you catch him looking at you. You’re not sure how to read his expression. Is he happy? Entertained? Delirious? You don’t want to let it show that your heart flutters every time it happens. At some point you notice your throat is getting dry, but you don’t feel like popping the bubble the two of you are in by getting up. Logan seems to notice you’re preoccupied with something. “I appreciate you sticking around,” he starts. “But you’ve been talking for a while now. Not that I didn’t like it,” he quickly adds, “but you probably have better things to do.” You try to read his expression, but come up short. “You’re not tired?” “Weirdly, no.” “If you want, we could…” You think for a second. “...Play a card game? I need to get something to drink anyway. I’ll grab some cards while I’m downstairs.”

Logan raises his eyebrows in what you think is surprise.

“Or not!” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. “I totally get it if you want to be alone, or take a nap.”

“Oh, no, no,” Logan shakes his head, smiling to himself. “I just wasn’t sure why…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. “A card game sounds good.” “Okay.” You immediately feel your body relax - which is weird because you were unaware you were tensing up. "D’you think UNO is too taxing right now?”

Logan gives you a look. “I’ve been through worse than this. One card game isn’t going to wipe me out.” You return the look in kind. “Suit yourself, but I’m pretty good at UNO.” “Bring it on.” Logan’s voice is deeper than normal, and combined with his playful gaze, goosebumps run rampant over your arms. You get up, trying to keep a straight face, and leave the room. Armed with water, snacks and UNO, you return to Logan’s room a few minutes later. “Come sit on the bed,” he offers as you approach, cocking his head towards the footboard of his bed. You dumbly follow his gaze. “That’ll work better than sitting in that chair. More comfortable too, maybe.” It’s a queen size bed, so it would fit… You’ve been physically closer than this before, so… “Sure!” you reply, in a higher pitch than you mean to. Your heartbeat sounds too damn loud as you sit down sideways on the bed. Opening the UNO box in your hand, you take out the cards and start shuffling. You quickly dislike how awkwardly you’re angling your body, so you move to the center of the bed and sit cross-legged. When you glance up to check what Logan’s doing, he’s already waiting for you. The warmth in his eyes catches you off guard.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” he says, and then looks away. “Almost everyone in the house avoids me when I’m sick.”

“That’s just because you’re generally an unpleasant person to be around,” you joke. “Or it’s because you don’t let anyone get close.”

A few seconds pass. You regret your words. “I let you get close.”

You stare at the man across from you, who’s busy looking at his hands.

A hundred thoughts race through your mind. He said it so matter-of-factly that you’re unsure of what he’s implying. But in this moment you can only think to reply honestly. “Yeah,” you breathe. You unconsciously mirror Logan again and find yourself looking down at the cards in your hands. “That makes me happy.”

You can hear the smile in Logan’s exhale. “I’m glad.”

The two of you look up simultaneously, grinning like teenagers. Unsure of what to do next, you hold up a card. “Ready?”

(Sometime later)

“I think… This is goodbye!” you say dramatically as you place a Draw Four card on the pile in front of you. “Oh, fuck this,” Logan mutters. He’s hardly holding on to the 10+ cards in his hands. You only have two left. You throw your head back and cackle. Logan looks at you unimpressed, which emboldens you to lean forward and smirk. “I warned you.” He narrows his eyes. “It must feel so good, beating a sick man.” “Y’know, it kind of does. It’s fun seeing you lose.” Even though Logan tries to hide it, you see one corner of his mouth tilt upwards slightly. A part of you badly wants to reach out and touch that little corner. “You just wait,” Logan says while he throws his cards on the pile. “I’ll beat you next time.” “Challenge accepted.”

#wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fluff #wolverine fanfiction #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fluff

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moonstruckme · 6 months ago

Note

this is such a specific request and i’m back and forth about making it because it feels silly but i’m so in love with the way you write james i had to take a chance. i had a bad experience going down on a guy once and i just can’t enjoy it since, but guys often aren’t very understanding about it. i was wondering if you’d write something with james and reader where she doesn’t enjoy it (and it doesn’t have to be for the reason i stated, any reason is fine!), and he’s being such a sweetheart about it. no worries if this request is too much!

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: smut mdni

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 634 words

When James’ head disappears beneath the covers for a second time, your guilt catches up with you.

You lift up the sheets. You can’t lie to yourself, it’s an alluring sight—James looking up from where he’d been kissing under your navel, long lashes fluttering in happy surprise and one big hand already wrapped securely around your thigh. His lips stay half an inch from your skin.

You decide to drop the sheets rather than tire your arms holding them up. They bubble you in there with him, the morning light filtering through and casting you both half in shadow.

“Hey,” you say awkwardly.

James’ smile splits his face. “Hi, there.” He finishes what he started, kissing the skin below your navel tenderly. “Nice of you to join me down here.”

“Thought I should see what you seemed so interested in,” you joke.

He squeezes your thigh roughly. “It’s quite the view, as you can see.”

“Yeah,” you laugh half-heartedly. “Sure.”

Something on your face must give you away. James’ hand smooths out on your thigh. He presses a kiss to the inside, gentle but enough to make your nerves jump. “Something wrong?”

“I don’t think you should do this,” you blurt. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, and, um, we should probably go back to doing other things.”

James makes no move other than to distance his lips from your leg. “Okay,” he says simply. “If you don’t feel like it anymore, that’s fine. Do you not want me to touch you?”

“No, it’s—it’s not you.” You give him a little smile, aiming for reassuring. “You’re fine. I just don’t think we should do oral.”

He blinks. “You don’t think we should or you don’t want to?”

“I don’t think we should.” Because trust me, I want to. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let you do it the first time. I can’t—or not can’t, I just don’t want to reciprocate.” The confession tumbles out of you like yarn unspooled. “Sorry. I really don’t like blowjobs.”

“Oh.” It appears to take James a few seconds to process this. When he does, his expression isn’t what you anticipated. He smiles crookedly, eyebrows scrunching like he’s caught between bemusement and humor. “Sweetheart, you could have just said that. That’s alright.”

You give him a weak smile. “Thanks for being cool about it. I know I should’ve told you earlier, it just…I got caught up, and it felt really good.” You feel your face heating and drop your gaze. “Anyway, it was selfish. Sorry to lead you on.”

“What? Angel.” James gives your thigh a little shake. “I mean I don’t mind. Really, I’ll eat you out either way. It’s not just so you’ll give me something in return.”

Now it’s your turn to blink. “What do you mean?”

He gives you a half-lidded look, both knowing at teasing. “I mean that I like doing this. And even if I didn’t, you hardly forced me. You didn’t promise me anything. You’re allowed to do—or not do—whatever you like.”

“You’re serious?” You glean from James’ expression that you must look as shocked as you feel. “You really don’t care? You’d tell me if you did, right?”

He grins, kissing again the sensitive skin inside your thigh. “Yeah, honey. I promise I’d tell you.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

He laughs. “No problem. So do you mind if I keep going now? If you want me to stop, that’s okay too.”

“Um.” You rub your lips together, looking down at him. James waits patiently, but his palm starts moving up and down your thigh, a soothing touch that leaves a trail of heat in its wake. “Sure. If you don’t mind.”

He holds eye contact with you as he lowers his head. His breath is hot on your cunt. “Not at all.”

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theetherealbloom · 5 months ago

Text

NORMAL THING

Summary: It's a normal thing to fall in love with movie stars.

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap(ish), Huge Crush, kind of Power Imbalance (cause you’re a fan but nothing absolutely weird), Hurt-to-Comfort, Infatuation, Fluff, ANGST, Dog, Older Sister, COVID-19, Pandemic Era, Cheesy, Awkward, Hallmark-ish Vibes, Whirlwind, Work,

Word Count: 3k

A/N: That mf voice note-turned-song has me sobbing and dying every time I listen to it. Then I was also listening to "Normal Thing" and was like, “ohhhh this song is for me… help.” I wrote this fic in a place of just… feeling sorry…? Like apologetic that Pedro had to go through that kind of feeling all alone for a while. Anyways, there's a few sentimental moments here inspired by poetry and things I've read and learned, hope you enjoy!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: "Normal Thing" by Gracie Abrams, "Pedro" by Omar Apollo

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

| Main Masterlist |

You had gone to visit your sister during your last summer break before graduating. Then, the second wave of COVID struck Europe, making it uncertain when you could return home. However, since all classes had shifted to online learning, the timing wasn't as critical.

Your older sister calls your name, snapping you out of the book you were absorbed in. "Hey, I’ll be out later getting groceries… do you mind taking Hershey for a walk after dinner?”

Her chocolate brown Labrador retriever, Hershey, a retired service dog, perks up at the mention of his name. You can't help but smile at his eager expression. “Yup, I can take him out later.”

She reminds you, “Don’t forget your mask!”

You playfully roll your eyes at her. “I won’t.”

Your sister thanks you and leaves for the store, leaving you alone with Hershey. You decide to take a short break from studying and take the dog for a walk around the neighborhood.

As you make your way down the quiet streets, Hershey happily sniffing at everything in sight, your thoughts drift to Pedro Pascal. Ever since watching him in The Mandalorian, you couldn't help but develop a bit of a crush on him. His charm and charisma on screen had captured your heart, making it hard for you to focus on anything else.

But it was just a normal thing, right? To have a celebrity crush? You reassure yourself as you continue walking.

You've always been drawn to movie stars and actors. Growing up, you had posters of your favorite celebrities plastered all over your bedroom walls. It was just harmless admiration, nothing more.

But with Pedro, it felt different. You found yourself constantly daydreaming about meeting him or even just catching a glimpse of him in person. You even shamefully admit that you've watched his interviews multiple times just to hear his voice.

It's ridiculous, really. You were fully aware that it was just a fantasy and that nothing would ever come out of it. And even if by some miracle you did meet him, what then? He would never be interested in someone like you - an ordinary college student from a small town.

You sigh and shake your head, trying to push away these silly thoughts as Hershey tugs at his leash to sniff at yet another tree.

But then something catches your eye - a poster for an upcoming film starring none other than Pedro Pascal himself. Your heart flutters at the sight before reality comes crashing down on you once again.

You shake your head and continue walking with Hershey, wondering when this infatuation will finally fade away.

Your older sister had always been supportive, albeit a bit concerned about your celebrity crush. "It's sweet, really," she would say with a soft smile, "but just don't lose yourself in the fantasy, okay?"

Your friends, on the other hand, found your crush hilarious. During your video calls, they would tease you mercilessly. "Come on, you'll never meet him!" one friend would laugh. "It's just a harmless crush, right?" another would add, their tone light but the message clear.

In the privacy of your room, you sometimes found yourself talking to the mirror, practicing speeches you would never give. "Hi, I'm a huge fan… and I just wanted to say..." you'd trail off, feeling foolish. You even practiced smiling and having conversations with yourself, hoping to perfect that effortless charm you admired so much in Pedro.

Yet, your self-awareness kept you grounded. You knew it was just a fantasy, a way to escape the stress of your real life. With a sigh, you would push those daydreams aside and focus on finishing your papers and remaining projects.

You wished one day to work in production, to be a part of the magic that created the worlds you loved to escape into. As you typed away on your laptop, you allowed yourself a small smile. Maybe one day, you would be behind the scenes of a film or a series. But for now, you had work to do, and dreams to turn into reality.

The sun sets late in Switzerland, casting a warm, golden glow over the tranquil residential area. You enjoy these walks, the peacefulness a stark contrast to the bustling city life you're used to.

Right after dinner, you take a stroll with Hershey, you notice a man sitting on a park bench, his shoulders slightly shaking.

Frowning, you glance down at Hershey, who looks up at you with curious eyes. Adjusting your mask, you make your way down the sidewalk, intending to walk past the stranger. But Hershey has other ideas, pulling you towards the bench with a wagging tail.

Instinctively, the man begins to pat Hershey, his touch gentle yet shaky. “Oh, Hershey, wait—” you start to say, but then you notice the tears streaming down the man's face.

You pause, feeling a pang of sympathy. “Do you mind if I sit down?” you ask, gesturing to the far end of the bench.

He looks up, eyes red and puffy, and nods. “It’s fine.”

You sit down, giving him space but staying close enough to offer comfort. You give him your name then look over to your adorably friend-shaped labrador, “And this is Hershey.”

“Pedro,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

There’s a moment of silence, broken only by the soft sounds of Hershey sniffing around. Then, gently, you ask, “So… what’s on your mind?”

Pedro hesitates, struggling to find the words. “I… I don’t even know where to start.”

“I know it might seem a bit strange, but sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know. No judgment, just listening,” you say, offering a reassuring smile.

He chuckles softly, a small spark of warmth in his eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Besides,” you add with a playful grin, “I promise I’m a great listener. I even have a certificate in listening from my sister's dog.”

He laughs – a genuine, heartfelt laugh that seems to lift a weight off his shoulders. Your laugh follows, a sound so infectious and bright that it makes people around you feel lighter, happier.

“Your laugh,” he says, a hint of wonder in his voice. “It’s... special.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread throughout your face and chest. “Thanks. So, Pedro, what’s been going on? Are you visiting family or…?”

“Oh, no, no. I just… I finished a job.”

“That’s nice. What do you do if you don’t mind me asking?”

He looks a little uncomfortable admitting it but he settles, “I’m um… an actor.”

You smile, your eyes crinkling as you do, “Do you like it?”

“Like what?” He asks in confusion.

“Y’know, acting?”

He takes a deep breath and begins to talk, the words spilling out in a rush. He speaks of the pressures of fame, the loneliness that comes with it, and the crushing weight of expectations. You listen intently, offering empathy and understanding.

“You know…?” he asks, surprised. “You know who I am?”

You nod and shrug. “I… I figured it out after you mentioned some of your projects.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

Pedro looks confused for a minute, and you offer a simple smile. “I’m not famous or anything extraordinary like you. But I can only imagine how exhausting it must be, constantly looking over your shoulder. Not wanting to mess up or upset people must make you feel like you’re always on the edge, always holding your breath.”

He nods, his expression softening. “That’s exactly it.”

“I've done my fair share of pacing and reeling,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I even thought it looked cute at times. But I know there's more to life than just this feeling of uncertainty. Even though right now, it feels like there isn't any moment past this one.”

You sigh as your eyes get misty. “In the end, if any of us are going to make it, we simply have to believe. We have to believe that we aren’t alone, that people see us for who we are and what we can be. You have to visualize it; cling to whatever fills you with courage, because the world needs you here. It needs you.”

As the night wears on, you both share stories and laughter, the conversation flowing naturally. By the time you part ways, Pedro looks visibly lighter, as if a burden has been lifted from his shoulders.

Beauty no longer has an effect on Pedro. It takes more than physical appearance to impress him. Instead, it's the ability to intrigue his mind and provoke his thoughts that truly captivates him. That is what he considers someone as magic.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Anytime,” you reply. “Had a good time, but I guess I'll see ya. Take care, Pedro.”

Years later, when the world isn’t as plagued by the pandemic, you’re working in New York, living your own life but occasionally checking in on Pedro’s career through social media. He’s become a prominent figure, his face everywhere. Yet, you can’t forget the vulnerable man you met on that bench.

One night, you’re at a bar in the Bowery Hotel with friends. The atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter and chatter. As you share a joke, your laugh rings out, catching the attention of someone across the room.

Pedro looks up, his heart skipping a beat. That laugh – he knows that laugh. His eyes scan the room until they land on you, and for a moment, everything else fades away. He feels an uncanny sense of familiarity, a powerful pull towards you that he can’t quite place.

Your friends laugh at a joke you made, but your mind is already miles away. Tomorrow, you’re heading to Glendale, California, to work as a sound engineer on an upcoming project at DreamWorks Animation. The excitement and nerves flutter in your chest as you excuse yourself to start packing.

Pedro starts to make his way towards you, determined to find out if his instincts are right. Just as he’s halfway across the room, a fan stops him, asking for a picture. He smiles warmly, grateful for the support, and agrees.

“Thank you so much, Pedro! This means the world to me!” the fan gushes, snapping a quick selfie.

“No problem at all,” he replies, his gaze drifting back to where you were sitting. He quickly wraps up the conversation, eager to see you again. But when he looks back, you’re gone, as if you vanished into thin air.

Pedro’s heart sinks. He scans the room, hoping to catch another glimpse of you, but you’re nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile, you’re outside, heading towards the subway station and waving goodbye to your friends. “I have to pack and get some sleep. My flight is early tomorrow morning,” you explain, your excitement barely contained.

Your friends hug you, wishing you luck on your new endeavor. As you descend down the stairs and board the subway train, your thoughts drift back to all those years ago, on the little bench, and now the bar, to the man whose presence had stirred something deep within you. You shake your head, putting on your headphones, distracting yourself with your favorite songs on your playlist.

Inside the bar, Pedro stands in the exact spot where he last caught a glimpse of you. A strange mix of disappointment and determination fills him, knowing he must find you again. The connection he felt was too strong to ignore – he needs to see if it was genuine or just a fleeting moment between two strangers on a park bench all those years ago.

The next day, you arrive at the DreamWorks Animation campus in Glendale, California. The excitement and nervousness intertwine as you step into the studio, ready to start your new role as a sound engineer.

Your supervisor gives you a brief overview of the project, "The Wild Robot," an animated film in production. "We need you to record and mix the voice actors' takes for each character," he explains. "Attention to detail is crucial – the right sound can bring the characters to life."

You nod, absorbing the requirements of your new role. "Got it. I'll make sure every line is perfect."

As you glance at the cast sheet for the voice actors, you notice that a few roles are still being finalized. Your mind drifts back to the previous night, to the man in the bar who looked so familiar. Shaking off the distraction, you focus on the task at hand.

Your days are filled with recording sessions and mixing tracks, immersing yourself in the world of "The Wild Robot." The work is demanding but rewarding, and you throw yourself into it with everything you have.

Despite your busy schedule, thoughts of the bench in Lucerne and the glimpse of him at the bar keep creeping back into your mind. The way Pedro had looked at you, the sense of connection you felt—it all seems so surreal now. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. The story you want is the story you get. Are you special, or was this all scripted in his head?

Back in his home in LA, Pedro can't shake the feeling that he needs to find you. He starts making discreet inquiries, hoping to track you down without drawing too much attention. The memory of your laughter and the warmth in your eyes keeps him going. He knows he needs to see you again, to see if what he felt was real.

As you finish another recording session, you glance at the cast sheet again. A new name catches your eye—Pedro Pascal as Fink the fox. Your heart skips a beat. Could it be him? The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.

Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on your work, but your mind keeps drifting back to the possibility. What if it really is him? What if fate has brought you together again? The anticipation builds as you wait for the next recording session, hoping that your paths will cross once more.

When the day finally arrives, you’re setting up the recording equipment, your hands trembling slightly with nervous energy. The door opens, and you hear footsteps approaching. You look up, and there he is—Pedro Pascal, standing in the doorway, looking just as surprised to see you.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. “It’s you.”

You smile, trying to steady your racing heart. “Yeah, it’s me. I didn’t expect to see you here. Well, I mean,” you start to fidget with your fingers, stumbling over your words, “I read the call sheet and I—”

“I didn’t expect to find you either,” he admits, taking a step closer. “But I’m glad I did.”

There’s a moment of silence, both of you taking in the significance of this unexpected reunion. Then, with a gentle smile, Pedro says, “Do you have time to catch up after this?”

You nod, feeling a rush of warmth and excitement. “I’d like that.”

As the recording session progresses, you can’t help but steal glances at Pedro, who seems equally distracted. When it’s finally over, you pack up your equipment, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Outside the studio, the two of you find a quiet corner to talk. Pedro takes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’ve thought about you a lot,” he admits. “Ever since that night in Lucerne, and then seeing you again at the bar… I knew I had to find you.”

“I’ve thought about you too,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know if it was real or I just made it all up in my head.”

“It’s real,” Pedro says, his gaze intense and sincere. “And I want to see where this goes, if you do too.”

You smile, feeling a sense of hope and possibility. “I’d like that very much.”

The air between you and Pedro is charged with electric energy as you talk and laugh, baring your souls to each other like old friends. Time seems to stand still as you swap stories and reveal your deepest desires, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. This is more than just a chance encounter; and the both of you can feel the spark of something new and thrilling forming between you.

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eddiesxangel · 7 months ago

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Baby Makes Three | older!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Reader

2K request celebration

Requested by @alastorssimp

Summary: you and Eddie find out some very shocking news.

Cw: f!reader, unexpected pregnancy, age gap, older!Eddie, a reader in their late 20’s, a plus-size reader, Eddie is divorced, oral, protected and unprotected p in v, light choking, praise, happy ending. 3k words

An: Older!Eddie is the loml can’t believe we are having his baby 🤭

As the evening unfolds, you find yourself at a lively bar, celebrating your friend's farewell to her twenties. Although you've grown somewhat weary of late-night revelry, your friend insisted that you join her, believing that the celebration wouldn't be complete without you. As you step into the dimly lit bar, your gaze is immediately drawn to a captivating figure.

Amidst a group of older men, he sits on a bar stool, exuding an aura of distinctiveness. His cascading locks and adorned fingers, embellished with silver rings, capture your attention, except the finger where a wedding band would typically reside. Despite his smile, his deep brown eyes betray a hint of melancholy. In that moment, you feel an unwavering resolve to brighten his spirits.

As you observed him from across the room, you couldn't help but feel drawn to him. Although he didn't fit your usual preferences, there was something about him that intrigued you. He was an older man, rough around the edges, tall, dark, and handsome; what's not to like? The more you studied him, the more you estimated his age to be in his late 40s, perhaps 50.

Emboldened by a few drinks, you finally mustered the courage to approach him.

“Hi,” you smile.

“Hi,” you hear another handsome man turn to you, but he isn’t the one you were speaking to.

“I’m Y/N,” you reach your hand so he can shake it.

“Steve.” He smiles.

“Hi Steve, who’s your friend.” You turn to the man you’ve been eyeing all night.

“This here.” He pats his friend on the back, breaking him out of his conversation with another friend. " Is Eddie?” He smiles, and Eddie turns to his friend, confused as to why his name is being spoken.

“What?” He swallowed his beer.

“This is Y/N.” Steve smiles.

“Eddie.” He nods.

“What brings you here, Eddie?” Your voice is so sickly sweet, laced with desire.

“I don’t think you wanna know, Sugar.”

Normally, the name would deter you, but coming from him, it made your heart flutter.

“Try me?” You lean forward on the high-top table, emphasizing your breasts.

Eddie began to shy away, but Steve stepped in once again, “celebrating his divorce.” He claps Eddie’s back again. Clearly, they’ve been here a while.

“Oh well, that’s good news for me then.” You absentmindedly start to twirl your hair.

“And why’s that, Sweetheart?”

“Maybe you’ll find out later.” You wink and turn to go back to your friends.

“What was that?” Eddie was stunned.

“Dude, you gotta go after her! She was totally flirting with you.”

“Nah.” No way Eddie believed that… no way this sexy younger girl who looks like God's gift to earth wants to flirt with him.

“Um, yes, she wants you, man.”

“I could be her father.” Eddie scoffs.

“Hasn’t stopped me.” Steve laughs.

Eddie rolls his eyes at Steve. How would something as hot as you go for a guy like him?

“If you don’t, I will.”

Eddie eventually gave in to Steve’s nagging and found you twenty minutes later. He offered to buy you a drink, and you gladly accepted.

You “awe” when they tell you he’s newly single and touch his arm while giving him a fake pout. Your pink lipgloss captures the light, and Edie can't stop staring at your mouth.

Eddie tried so hard to keep eye contact, but your body was so full and voluptuous that he couldn’t help but scan you a time or two.

“You wanna get out of here?” You ask after you finish your second drink with him. Your friends are who knows where, and you’re so horny you think your pussy might just explode.

“Yea, yea, let’s um, go.” Eddie couldn't hold back his smile. He was buzzing he was so excited.

You rested your hand on his upper thigh on the short car ride back to his home. His other leg bounced in anticipation, trying not to get hard already. But the simplest touch from you had him realizing. Your manicured fingers looked so good resting on his leg like that.

He pulled up to his small three-bedroom bungalow, which was enough for him and his two kids, who he had with his ex.

It was seriously a bachelor pad. He was not expecting company, so the place was disorganized, but you didn’t care to notice because your lips were attached to his neck the second he closed the door.

“Holy shit” he lets slip because is this really happening? Yes it is.

“Oh baby,” You hear Eddie moan again as your hands slip up his thighs to where his hard-on is starting to take form.

“You should relax; let me help you,” you say, hooking your fingers under his leather jacket and pushing it off his shoulders. Your eyes widen when you see the vast number of tattoos covering every inch of his bare arms.

“You wanna help me relax, baby girl?”

“Mmmmm, I do. You deserve it after all you've been through.” You nod your head, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. God, you're laying it on thick.

Eddie smirks and brushes your loose hair behind your ear, sending a chill up your spine. You watch him lean down to take your lips on his. Needy, passionate kisses were shared before you broke away and found his neck.

“Let’s take this into the bedroom,” he says, pushing you back towards the hallway. You giggle as the man handles you.

Eddie still can’t believe this is happening, but he’s going to take advantage of every second of it. He watches your tiny skirt ride up as you walk towards his bedroom. He can’t help but grab a handful of it, and you squeak.

Finding more confidence in himself, he tosses you on the bed, and you land with a giggle. You’re not used to being so manhandled, but you liked it. Eddie was much stronger than he looked, which only turned you on more.

You watch him as he removes his shirt before he lunges towards you. He has you naked and on your knees for him within minutes of entering the bedroom.

Your nimble fingers unbuckle his belt as you kneel before him. He thinks he will cum right then and there. The image of you looking up at him, your tick thighs pressed together, trying so hard to create some sort of friction for yourself, is so fucking hot to him.

“Fuck you’re big” Your jaw hangs slack in shock as his hard cock springs from the confines of his pants.

“I’m sure you can take it.”

Challenge accepted.

Eddie hadn’t had sex in a very long time. No way he was last if you keep this up. He thinks you’re about to suck the soul out of his body as your hot, warm mouth envelops him wholly.

“Fuck baby girl, your mouth is so perfect, I can’t wait for your pussy.”

“I’m right here, yours for the taking,” you smirk up at him, reeling from the fact he hadn’t touched you yet.

He once again surprised you as his strong arms lifted you with ease to toss you onto the bed. He spreads your legs without a second thought and dives into your needy cunt.

“You’ve been hiding this from me?” His eyes roll back as he tastes you. You mewl as his mouth takes over all of your senses.

“I know, baby, you need me to fuck you, don't you?”

“Yes”

“Needy little thing, just need a man to take care of you?”

You nod your head as your fingers lace themselves through his chocolate waves.

“I promise I'm going to take care of you and make you feel good.” And he is making you feel so good.

His face between your legs feels like you've ascended into euphoria.

“Oh god!” You clench down as your orgasm washes through you.

“That’s a good girl.” He laps at your juices before he fumbles for the condoms he thankfully just bought. He quickly rips open the box as you come down from your high. Condoms are scattered across the bed, and Eddie hears you giggle at his eagerness, and it only makes him want you more.

Eddie has the condom on in seconds and is gliding himself through your wet folds before he pushes himself inside.

“Oh, Eddie!” You scream when he bottoms out.

Eddie lets himself close his eyes as his tounge traced your nipple. He hummed into your skin only sending more waves of pleasure through your body. His large hands squeezed your other breast as he sucked and flicked your nipple with this mouth. Teeth teases as his fingers played, nothing would stop him from having your perfect tits in his mouth and his cock buried deep inside you.

His hips are rocking into you so good, he’s pounding into you, you can’t think. You’re so fucking happy you chose to come home with him, never have you had sex this good. How did his wife give this up? You don’t know,; but you’re sure glad because you will get to experience him now.

“Eddie, please!” He loved hearing his name fall from your lips. He wasn’t even sure you remembered it; he’s having trouble remembering yours if he’s being honest, but he didn’t care. Your pussy was magic.

“Fuck baby girl, this pussy is so tight, so good” You feel his hand gently wrap around your throat, holding you in place as he watches your tits bounce with each thrust. His cock disappears between your plush thighs; he can’t get enough as your pussy is getting tighter and tighter. He can feel your orgasm creeping up on you. He needs you to cum before him; he is damned if he comes first.

“Come on baby girl, cum on my cock…. That’s it; you’re taking me so well. I knew your pussy would be so fucking good.” The praises falling from his lips have you clenching down on his cock, so hard Eddie thinks he sees stars.

Eddie can finally let go. His cum fills the condom as he continues to fuck into you until he’s satisfied.

Once you’ve both caught your breath, you get up to leave, Eddie feels sad when you start getting dressed, but you insist he gives you his phone band. Maybe you can do it again sometime.

When he saw the text from the unsaved number with your name attached, his stomach did a little summersault, and he didn’t think he would ever forget your name again.

It’s been weeks, and your and Eddie’s schedules have yet to coordinate. He had his kids on the weekends, and you’re always busy. You never give a reason; you’re just busy.

So when Eddie entered the restaurant to get his pick-up order, he was a little surprised when he saw you sitting at the booth with a guy. A guy who was about your age, with his arm wrapped around you.

Who even sits on the same side of the booth anyway?

He gave the host a fake smile as his skin started to crawl as he continued to watch the blonde hair blue eyed Chad-looking fucker lean in and whisper something in your ear that made you laugh.

So this is why you’re “busy.”

“Your food will be out in a minute, sir.” The hostess smiled and walked away.

This gave Eddie the opportunity to walk over.

“Fancy seeing you here, Sugar.” Eddie smiled, but you could tell by the look in his eyes it was not a happy one.

You almost choked on your drink as his deep baritone voice filled your ears.

“Eddie, um, hi.” You try and keep your cool.

No, you weren’t avoiding him. This date had been planned for weeks, and you didn’t have the heart to cancel.

“Hey man,” the douche nods to Eddie, and he can’t help but roll his eyes. How on earth did his girl go for this chump?

Eddie completely ignored him.

“Who’s this baby?” Your date turns to you. “Your dad or something?”

You almost choked again, and Eddie sneered as the smug look graced your date's face.

“Can you give us a minute?” You turn to him.

“I don’t think— "

"Listen to the lady." Eddie glared, and he looked so hot while doing it.

"I'll give you ten minutes."

"I’m sure that's the longest you'd ever need," Eddie mumbled under his breath, and you giggled.

Eddie stuck out his hand, and you take it, and he leads you around the corner to the alcove by the bathrooms.

“So….” You start awkwardly.

“I see why you’re always busy. If you have a boyfriend just tell me I’ll stop waisting my time.” He scoffs.

“Hes not my boyfriend.”

“But that’s your type, huh? Thought you wanted a more mature man? Someone rough around the edges, someone who knows how to please you” He raises his brows.

“I-I mean…”

“What is it, baby girl? He fuck you as good as I did?” He tucks a price of loose hair behind your ear. “I don’t think so.”

“How dare you!”

“You need to be reminded?”

The way your pussy clenched as his tone was a betrayal of your own. You missed his touch, but he was being such as asshole you didn’t want to give in.

“Fuck you”

“Gladly,” he leaned in and kissed you deeply.

You let a moan slip, and you feel Eddie smirk against you.

Eddie dragged you into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

“Eddie,” you moan, completely forgetting you were on a date with another man.

Eddie can’t get enough of you; he’s been thinking about you every moment of every day since that first night you hooked up, and hearing your name slip past your lips only makes this moment all that much sweeter for him.

“Need this tight pussy to remember who she belongs to.” He flips you towards the sink so you face the mirror. You watch intently as his hands wrap around your waist to unbutton your pants and pull them down. “Need to remind you who made you cum so hard you were begging for more.”

You couldn’t form words, only needy mewls left your throat as you wiggle your bare ass at him before his fingers run up your already wet slit. It didn’t take much for you to get ready when Eddie was around.

“So wet f’me already”

“Only you.”

“Yea, only me? Not that Ken doll out there?”

“No, Eddie, you! Only you!”

“That’s right, baby girl. You’re mine, pretty.”

You hear the jingle of his belt, and soon after, his hard tip brushes through your folds.

“Eyes on me,” he guides your chin to keep looking at him through the mirror as he plunges inside of you.

Your mouth falls slack as he fucks into you; his hand moves lower, holding your throat in place as each brush of his cock feels so deep inside of you.

His grip on your hip is tight, his hand slinks down from your throat to your breasts, and he squeezes it over and over again.

“Can’t get enough of you, pussy is like a fuckin drug.”

“So big,” you slur. His cock brushing that sport so deep inside you your body is shaking with pleasure.

Your orgasm hits you quickly, and Eddie is coming shortly after.

You feel a light smack on your bare ass before he helps pull your panties back up.

“Holy shit” you try and catch your breath.

“Now, you’ll only be thinking of me dripping down your leg while you finish this date.” He gives your ass another squeeze before slipping out the door without another word.

You take a minute to catch your breath and exit the bathroom to see Eddie, with a takeout bag, heading out the door. You say a quick goodbye to your date, making up some lame excuse about not feeling well and chase after Eddie while he still leaks out of you.

A one-night stand turned into running into him while on another date, and he fucked you in the bathroom so good you ditched your date, and now you’ve been hooking up ever since.

You didn’t speak to one another about what you were, but after that day in the bathroom, you knew you didn’t want to be with anyone else. It was understood after he ran into you on a date - you would be committed to one another only.

You liked Eddie, and yes, he was older by about seventeen years, but he treated you well. He always made sure to take care of you and look after your needs, and when you were both finished, he always wanted to talk and cuddle.

You knew you wanted more with him, to go out with him, to be with him, but you were too scared to overstep. He had just gotten out of a poor relationship a month and a half ago, but your feelings for him started blooming, and you couldn't stop.

You’re falling quick and hard for Eddie and that’s scary. It’s so new and what if a baby is added to the equation? That could end things in an instant. Dread was the only thing to fill your mind as your mind spiralled.

Your phone startles you out of your thoughts, and you answer it right away, don't even see who it is on the other end.

"Hey, baby girl. You getting ready to go out?"

Tonight, you were to go out with your friends to dance. You loved having a drink and some good music, but as you were getting ready, a wave of nausea hit, and you knew that wasn't a good sign.

You were late. It's been a little over two weeks late, but you're scared to take a test. No way you wanted this to be real. You had been so careful.

"No, um, actually. I'm not feeling well." You try and swallow the lump in your throat. You don't need to worry about the unknown.

"Oh baby, do you need some soup? I can pick you up some and bring it over."

“No, no I just — Oh god, the bathroom!”

It hit you; you didn’t use a condom that time.

"You wanna hang up to do that or…?"

"No, Eddie, no I need you to get something for me."

"Whatever you need."

You pace back and forth as the longest 3 minutes of your life pass by.

Eddie couldn't believe you were asking him to get you a pregnancy test at nine-thirty on a Saturday night, but here he was, anxiously waiting.

Eddie loved being a dad, and he would be thrilled to have another baby, especially with you. Sure, the relationship was newer, but he knew in his soul how good of a person you were and how good of a mom you would be.

Fantasies of you and your swollen belly played in repeated in his head until he heard you gasp. He sees your face, and you're in shock, unable to move beside your shaking hand. Holding the test, he sees the blue plus symbol clear as day.

"Your boy has still got it!" He grabs the test from your hand and makes a fist pump in the air.

"Eddie!"

"What?"

"Aren't you scared?" Tears formed in your eyes. Would you be ready? Would you be a good mother? Would he want to leave, and you would be stuck being a single mom?

"No, because I know you'll be an awesome mom. I can't imagine a more perfect woman to have my baby." He leaned in to kiss you, and a tear fell down your cheek.

My baby. Something g you and Eddie made together.

"I'm going to be a mom." Eddie's words start to make you feel better, and you start to smile.

"You're going to be the sexiest mom." He wiggles his brows suggestively.

"Eddie!"

"And the kindest, most caring, thoughtful mom to ever exist. This baby will be so loved."

"So loved," You repeat.

Tagging some mooties (feel free to ignore): @paybacksawitch @xxbimbobunnyxx @strangerstilinski @taintedcigs @munson-blurbs @littlexdeaths @onegirlmanytales

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie munson #dilf!eddie munson #older!eddie munson x reader #older!eddie munson smut #dilf!eddie Munson smut #daddy eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fic

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louisferrignojr · 15 days ago

Text

[also on ao3]

“I miss you.”

Tommy feels his heart fluttering in his chest. “I miss you, too.”

“Wish you were here right now.” Evan’s voice is but a breathy whisper in his ear, and if Tommy closes his eyes he can almost forget that it’s coming through the phone. “Next to me.” Evan continues. “In my bed.”

“Oh. Is this why you called me?”

Evan laughs softly. “No, I—”

“What are you wearing?”

“Tommy.” He’s laughing again, the sound like music to Tommy’s ears.

“There’s no one around,” Tommy reassures him after a cursory glance around him; it’s the middle of the night, and the last alarm went off three hours ago. Now, it’s entirely possible he and the vehicle he’s climbing into might get called in at any given moment, but —

“C’mon, tell me,” Tommy drops his voice another octave as he pulls the door shut, gets settled in his seat. “Are you naked yet?”

“No, it’s too cold. My man isn’t here to keep me warm.”

Tommy bites down on a grin. He can picture the pout on Evan’s face so clearly. “I’m so sorry, baby. But in my mind, you’re completely naked, Evan.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. I got all your clothes off, got you in my bed, your head on my pillow, your legs open for me—”

“God, Tommy.” Evan sighs. “T-tell me more.”

Tommy pauses for a minute, listening to Evan breathing hard into the speaker. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Just — just over my pants.”

“You’re hard already, aren’t you? Hard and leaking, just the way I like you, yeah?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Take your dick out, Evan, you’re gonna make a mess.” There’s rustling on the other end of the line where Evan is shuffling, kicking the comforter off and pushing his shorts to his ankles; it kicks Tommy into action, unzipping his flight suit and unbuckling his belt, just enough so he can get a hand around himself, almost surprised to see how hard he is suddenly. “Evan,” Tommy sighs with relief as he squeezes his dick, gentle, just to ease off the pressure. “Where’d you go, baby?”

“I’m-m here here, Tommy,” Evan grunts into the phone.

Tommy closes his eyes. “You look gorgeous, Evan.” He can picture it so vividly in his mind’s eye, how Evan must look right now; the way his chest heaves as he’s struggling to breathe, the pinch of his eyebrows and his mouth hanging open, his big hand wrapped around his leaking cock. “Wish I could get my mouth on you right now. Would you let me suck you off?”

“Y-yeah, Tommy, please,” Evan is panting, choking on his words. “Fuck, you’re so—”

“Would you let me finger you?” Tommy grins as he hears the whine Evan lets out, desperate and wanton, having lost all of his self-control. “Would you let me open you up and fuck you?”

“F-ah-uck.”

“You’re gonna make me beg?” Tommy asks, and Evan’s answering moan tells him just what he needs, and he’s more than happy to provide. “Please, baby, I’ll make it so good for you, put you on your hands and knees— “

“P-please, Tommy.”

“—you like it when I fuck you like that, don’t you? Are you gonna come for me, baby?”

Evan is gasping, and Tommy imagines him twisting and trembling as he comes with a loud cry, spilling all over himself. Tommy has been stroking himself slowly while talking, but now he’s getting antsy, picking up the pace.

“That was so good,” Evan’s voice comes through the speaker. “You’re so good to me, Tommy, everything you do, God, you drive me crazy. Come over after shift.”

Tommy’s breath hitches in his throat. “Evan.”

“Come get your reward, baby, you’ve earned it. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“You should sleep—”

“Oh, I will, I’m gonna pass out as soon as we hang up,” Evan’s grin is evident in his voice. “But you can wake me up when you get here, I’ll be ready to go, baby, you can just slip right in.”

Tommy’s hips jerk forward as if moving of their own volition. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Evan’s voice drops to a whisper. “Come on, get one out your system now, ‘cause we’re gonna fuck for hours.”

It works like magic, a startled noise falling out of his mouth as Tommy comes harder than he ever has from a hands-only solo session. “Christ, Evan, you’re unbelievable,” he barely manages to get the words out with how hard he’s breathing now, and he smiles when he hears the way Evan giggles, entirely too self-satisfied. “Fuck. I gotta go clean up.”

“Yeah, me too. See you later?”

“Looks fucking like it, yeah. Jesus Christ.”

Evan laughs again. “Goodnight, babe. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

#bucktommy #bucktommy fanfic #my writing #dailykinley

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natswife-marvelicious · 3 months ago

Text

Embracing the Unknown

Plot: You and Natasha finally acknowledge your feelings for each other. She confesses her desire to be your girlfriend, and together you embark on a new, slow-paced romantic relationship, full of warmth and mutual affection.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,4K

Masterlist

The hum of the bustling New York City streets filled the air as you made your way through the vibrant crowds. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow across the skyscrapers and giving the city an almost magical quality. It was one of those rare evenings when the city felt alive with possibility, and you couldn't help but smile at the thought of what the night might hold.

You had been part of the Avengers for a while now, a member of a team that was equal parts family and chaos. And among all the extraordinary people you worked with, one stood out: Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow herself. She was strong, fiercely intelligent, and had an air of mystery that always intrigued you. Over time, the friendship you shared had blossomed into something deeper, but neither of you had dared to acknowledge it, until now.

As you approached the tower where the Avengers often gathered, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach. Natasha had asked you to meet her tonight, and the excitement mixed with a hint of apprehension. You were about to step into something that could change everything.

You entered the common area of the Avengers Tower and were greeted by the familiar sight of Tony Stark tinkering with one of his gadgets, and Steve Rogers discussing tactics with Sam Wilson. But your focus was solely on Natasha, who was standing by the large window, looking out over the city skyline.

“Hey, you made it,” she said, turning to you with a soft smile that lit up her face.

“Wouldn't miss it,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

Natasha gestured for you to join her at the window. As you stood side by side, you took in the view, the twinkling lights of the city below, the gentle hum of life that continued even as day turned to night.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It is,” you agreed, glancing at her. The way her eyes reflected the city lights made your heart race. “But it’s even more beautiful with you here.”

A faint blush crept up her cheeks, and you could hardly believe you made the legendary Black Widow blush. She turned slightly, her gaze intense as she studied you. “There’s something I need to talk to you about,” she said, her tone serious.

Your heart skipped a beat. “What’s on your mind?”

Natasha took a deep breath, a sign that whatever she was about to say was significant. “You know we’ve been through a lot together, right?”

You nodded, remembering the countless missions, the late-night talks, and the moments of vulnerability you had shared. “Yeah, I do.”

“I never thought I’d let anyone in like this again,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “But you… You’ve changed that for me.”

You felt a warmth spreading through your chest at her words. “Natasha, I-”

“I’m not finished,” she interrupted, a hint of urgency in her voice. “I’ve spent so long pushing people away, convincing myself that I didn’t need anyone. But being with you feels different. It feels right.”

Your heart raced, and you could feel the tension in the air as you took a step closer. “What are you saying?”

Her emerald green eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world faded away. “I’m saying that I want to be with you. I want to be your girlfriend, if you’ll have me.”

A surge of happiness washed over you, mingling with disbelief. “You want to be my girlfriend?” you asked, needing to hear the words again.

“Yes,” she said, a small smile breaking through her serious demeanor. “I want to be yours. I want to explore this… whatever this is between us.”

In that moment, everything felt surreal. Natasha Romanoff, the infamous spy, wanted to be with you. You couldn’t help but smile, a mix of joy and relief flooding through you. “I’d love that. I really would.”

A grin spread across her face, and in a flash, she closed the distance between you, wrapping her arms around your waist. You instinctively pulled her closer, feeling the warmth radiating from her body. It was a sweet embrace, full of unspoken promises and newfound affection.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” she admitted, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “And it scares me, but it also excites me.”

“Scared is good,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It means we’re stepping into something real.”

Natasha nodded, her expression serious yet filled with a glimmer of hope. “I want to take this slow. I don’t want to rush anything. I just want to enjoy being with you.”

“Me too,” you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “We’ll take it at our own pace."

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside the window faded even further away. All that mattered was this moment, this connection you had forged, despite the chaos that often surrounded your lives.

“Let’s celebrate,” Natasha suggested, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “How about a movie night? Just the two of us?”

“I’m all in for that,” you replied, grinning at her enthusiasm. “But I get to pick the movie this time.”

“Deal,” she laughed, pulling away reluctantly but still holding your hand. “But if it’s something ridiculous, I reserve the right to mock you.”

“Fair enough,” you said, leading her toward the media room. The light-hearted banter between you felt natural, a testament to the bond you had built over the years.

As you settled on the couch, you grabbed a bowl of popcorn, your heart still racing from the revelation of your relationship. Natasha settled in beside you, her body close to yours, the warmth radiating from her making it hard to focus on the screen.

As the opening credits rolled, you found yourself sneaking glances at her. She seemed so relaxed, her guard down in a way you hadn’t seen before. It was a side of Natasha that felt intimate, and it made your heart swell with affection.

Halfway through the movie, you felt her head leaning against your shoulder. The moment was perfect, quiet, cozy, and filled with a sense of belonging that you had longed for. You smiled to yourself, grateful for the turn your relationship had taken.

“Hey,” Natasha said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “What if I told you that I’m a terrible romantic?”

You chuckled softly, looking down at her. “I doubt that. You’re a spy. You probably know all the classic romantic gestures.”

“Sure, but I’m more accustomed to running away than running toward,” she said, her voice serious but with a hint of playfulness. “I’m not exactly the candlelit dinner type.”

“Maybe we can change that,” you suggested, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “It could be fun to explore it together.”

Natasha looked up at you, her expression softening. “I’d like that. I’d like to try.”

As the credits rolled, you turned off the TV and faced her fully. “So, what’s next on our agenda, girlfriend?”

“Hmm…” she pondered, tapping her chin playfully. “How about we make some plans? I want to take you on a proper date.”

Your heart raced at the thought. “I’d love that. Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere that’s not filled with superheroes and chaos,” she said with a smirk. “Maybe a quiet little Italian restaurant? I hear they have the best tiramisu.”

You grinned at the idea. “Perfect. And I’ll hold you to that dessert.”

“Good,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s a date, then.”

In that moment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something beautiful. You leaned in closer, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. Natasha responded immediately, her fingers tangling in your hair as she deepened the kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the world outside the tower forgotten. The kiss was sweet and soft, a promise of the many moments to come.

As you pulled away, breathless and smiling, you could see the joy reflected in Natasha’s eyes. “I think I could get used to this,” she said, a playful grin tugging at her lips.

“Me too,” you replied, your heart soaring.

And in that moment, you both knew that you had found something special in each other, something worth cherishing, something that would only grow stronger with each passing day.

The city continued to pulse with life outside, but inside the tower, you had carved out a little haven of your own, filled with love, laughter, and the promise of new beginnings.

The night stretched ahead of you like a canvas waiting to be filled with colors, adventures, and memories, together.

Again a pretty short one, but it's all fluffy and lovelyyyy

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff one shots #natasha fluff #natasha romanoff imagine #feminine reader #natasha romanoff fluff #love story

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harryslittlefreakk · 8 months ago

Text

arrogant s.o.b

summary: based on this request - grumpy/mean Harry and readers first fight and he says something really harsh/yells and makes her cry? And then feels really bad after like grumpyxsunshine vibes?

warnings: angst

wordcount: 1.6k

a/n: thank you to the anon who sent in this request!! 🥰💖 sorry it took me a while to get around to it. please let me know if this isn’t quite what you wanted, i don’t know if I’m 100% happy with it so im more than willing to tweak and rewrite!!!

my masterlist!! please feel free to send me more requests 💓 happy reading

“I miss you, Harry.”

You knew you were pushing it, he was already working himself to breaking point. But you couldn’t help it, you missed your boyfriend. His break was meant to be about finding time for himself again, spending time with his loved ones. And you thought that meant being with you, not spending every day confined to the four walls of a recording studio.

“I can’t delay my entire album because you miss me.”

“I’m not asking you to delay the entire album. Just take a day off, just once.”

“Why?! For what?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Now you were both pissed off. You didn’t understand why Harry couldn’t just slow down. You’d only been able to see him in Italy for a few days, your work schedule unexpectedly busy. Part of you thought he was ‘punishing’ you for that, the sane part of you knew that his summer in Italy was his rest, and now he was back in London he needed to work. Harry’s work ethic was one of the things you admired most about him, and now you were arguing with him over it.

“Clearly it does matter.” He was stood by the door, keys in his hand, a dark scowl printed on his face.

“It’s fine, just go. Have a good day.” The hurt was evident in your voice, but you didn’t even want Harry to stay now with the atmosphere you’d created.

He hesitated for a moment, torn between wanting to stay and needing to leave. Finally, he sighed and turned to walk out the door without another word. The sound of the door swinging shut behind him echoed through the silent room, leaving you alone in your thoughts.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you sank into the sofa. You’d pushed him away when all you wanted was for him to stay. You knew you’d always come second to his career, he prioritised you over almost everything in his life but his music was so important to him. But once he finished recording, there would be interviews and appearances, then a tour, and then you’d be back here again. It was constant, unrelenting, and if he couldn’t even sacrifice one day for you, how could you expect him to slow down?

—

Harry stood frozen on the other side of the door, still stuck between needing to come back in and wanting to go. It never usually got to this point, one of you would back down before someone got hurt. It wasn’t exactly healthy, but it worked for you. He hated fighting, hated seeing you upset. But he was only now realising that it was usually you that compromised. He knew you well, and for you to actually speak up and ask him to stay despite knowing how important his work is to him? He’d fucked up.

He leaned against the door, his hand gripping the handle tightly as he closed his eyes, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. Guilt washed over him as he replayed the conversation in his mind. He knew he needed to find a balance between his work and his relationship, but it was easier said than done.

His hand fell from the door handle as he turned on his heel, dragging his feet away from the house. If he was going to make it right, he needed to be armed with all of your favourite things.

—

Harry replayed the morning in his head the entire time he was out. You’d woken up to his alarm as always, rolling over in his arms to wake him up with soft kisses. “Why do you set alarms if you know you can’t wake up for them?” you laughed, tapping at his nose as his eyes fluttered open. “Because you wake up and I get morning kisses,” he smiled, pulling you tighter to his chest.

He remembered how the morning light hit you at just the right angle, illuminating your puffy eyes and blushed cheeks. He’d caught himself wishing he could have five more minutes in bed with you, time to savour waking up next to his love. But he’d rolled out of bed in the same way as always, slipping out from under you just as you tried to curl your body around his.

You’d followed him to the bathroom silently, lingering in the doorway as you rubbed your tired eyes. “Wish I got to see you more,” you’d mumbled, eyes following his through the mirror. “You see me every day, kitten,” he’d replied, poking his tongue out when he saw you watching. He’d noticed your face fall slightly, a misty kind of sadness replace the natural glint in your eye. He cringed as he thought back, but he’d purposely ignored it to save himself the trouble.

“I see you when I wake up and just before bed,” you’d pouted, eyes glued to your suddenly fidgety hands. “I cant help that right now, pet. You know I can’t,” he’d tried to reason with you, and looking back, Harry thought maybe he was trying to convince himself. “Just a morning or an afternoon at home would be nice. Not even a full day,” you’d told him, voice cracking as you looked back up at him.

“I can’t have this conversation right now,” he’d muttered, kicking at the door until it swung closed in front of you.

And there he was now, heart struck with guilt at the thought of how badly he had neglected you.

—

As he heard your keys jingle outside the door, Harry finished rearranging his purchases across the bed. He gave one final look to the flowers on your windowsill, the beautiful blush pink roses he knew you loved. It was perfect, he just hoped it would be enough.

“Hi darling,” he smiled sheepishly as he walked down the stairs.

“Hi, H,” you replied, brows knitted as you stared at him. “What are you doing?”

“Come,” Harry murmured, reaching out a hand for you to take. You dropped your bag by door and took it, fingers tangling with his as he lead you back to the bedroom.

He stopped outside the bedroom door, pulling you into his arms. “M’sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “Didn’t think about what it’s like for you. I need time with you just as much as you need it w’me.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you told him, cuddling into his chest. “Nothing to be sorry for, pet.”

“Shouldn’t have pushed you like that,” you murmured, eyes closed as you breathed in his musky aftershave.

“Gave me the push I needed. M’not good at taking time off.”

“Don’t have to tell me that,” you laughed, stepping away from him as he turned to open the bedroom door.

“Got you your perfect day,” he smiled, stepping out of the way so you could see his creation.

All your favourite snacks were laid out on the bed, your matching pyjamas folded on the corner. The most beautiful flowers you’d ever seen in your favourite vase on the windowsill, candles lit on your nightstand and a cheesy rom com loaded on the tv.

“You did all of this?” you cooed, a grin spreading across your face as your gaze turned to Harry. He nodded, pulling his t-shirt off.

“Nuh uh,” you swatted his hand away as he reached to pick up the pyjama top. “Only my perfect day if you’re topless,” you smirked, quickly peeling your clothes off to throw the pyjamas on.

You climbed into bed next to Harry, pulling the duvet up to your chin before wrapping your body around his, your head at home on his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, arms wrapped right around you.

“Made a few calls. Gonna start only doing three days at a time in the studio, then three days off,” he whispered, grinning when you immediately whipped round to look at him. “Don’t have to do that for me baby,” you gasped, brows furrowed.

“It’s the right call. Just gonna be longer days but worth it all if it means more time with you,” Harry winked, his hand caressing the curve of your waist.

You shifted upwards, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” you smiled. “And congratulations.”

Harry returned your kiss, his lips lingering just a second longer than yours had. His touch and his kisses felt like home to you, his smile your lifeblood. “To me? For what?”

“To us. For our first fight,” you giggled, holding out a hand to high-five Harry. He grabbed a hold of your hand, using it to pull you even closer to him, until your faces were only centimetres apart.

“Here’s to our first and last fight,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. His teeth latched onto your bottom lip as he went in for another kiss, the rocky waves in your stomach turning to butterflies as his tongue moved around yours.

You pulled away after a minute, settling back into his arms with a smile so bright it could have lit up the room.

“Can’t believe we started the day with you thinking your album is more important than me,” you mumbled, a mischievous sparkle in your eye as you tangled your fingers between Harry’s.

“Millions of adoring fans who’d do anything for me versus one woman? I know who I’m picking,” he teased, laughing as you smacked his thigh with your free hand.

“Maybe they were right,” you whispered, peering up at him.

“Hm?”

“About you being an arrogant son of a bitch.”

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#harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry edward styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles masterlist #Harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harryslittlefreakk

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