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itsonlydana · 5 months

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"I Didn't Know That I Was Starving Till I Tasted You" | hobbit

➛ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

➛ When you get stood up by your date all you want to do is morph with the couch, eat ice cream and watch Pride & Prejudice. It's a shame your roommate/best friend Thranduil doesn't agree with those plans.

➛ warnings/tags: modern!au, roommate!au, friends-to-lovers, chef!thranduil, swf, kissing

➛ words: 9,3k

➛ an: sooo let's ignore that i said i wasn't writing anymore <3 i'm still not taking request but i have a few fics that i'll post over the next few weeks!

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The sound of keys turning in the lock sounds through your apartment before the door opens and closes, making you wince.

The piano music playing through the expensive stereo system is loud enough that you could blame your reaction for not reacting to it. After a brief moment, a deep voice echoes from the hallway, marked by an incredulous "Huh?" and followed by an urgent "What?" accompanied by hurried footsteps.

"Hello?! What– what are you still doing here? You should be dressed up and in a cab by now!"

Your roommate and best friend Thranduil rushes into the living room, you can see his tall figure out of your peripheral vision.

Not that it would change where he stands.

You don't bother to turn around and continue to hide between the mountain of pillows and blankets you had accumulated on the couch, watching the movie playing on the big screen in front of you.

"Uhh– Mister Bingley arrived from the North," you comment on the happenings of the Bennets' house, a spoonful of ice cream held to your mouth.

Thranduil steps closer, dropping his coat and a bag on the wing chair next to the couch. "What–"

Instead of answering his question, you let the ice cream melt on your tongue, mumbling a "5000 a year?" with a mouth full of chocolate.

"Talk to me, woman!"

"He's single!" you sigh happily and throw a dramatic hand in the air.

Before you can lower it again, Thranduil snaps and snatches your hand, cold fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you towards him. Finally, you look up to him and are confronted with your very baffled-looking best friend.

"If you don't tell me why you aren't on the way to the fabulous third date with Marcus-"

"Jake."

Thranduil rolls his eyes at the interruption: "Fine, why aren't you on the third date with Jake right now and instead sulk on the couch watching Pride & Prejudice again? I thought we promised to take a break from watching it anyway."

You push out your lower lip, pouting. "I'm not sulking," you say in a tone so drawn out it completely defiles your statement. Thranduil doesn't say anything, he just lets his gaze slowly wander over the blankets you are buried under, to the half-eaten ice cream bucket to the TV where the Bennet sisters are currently caught eavesdropping on their parents' conversation. He doesn't need words to express himself, the judgment is silent in words but loud in the raise of his dark eyebrow.

"Fine," you groan, admitting defeat. "He canceled."

Thranduil's gaze softens as he sits down next to you on the edge of the sofa and he slowly drops your hand from his grip. "He canceled," he repeats, eyes falling back to the ice cream.

"He canceled," you confirm with a sigh "Just like I predicted- so I don't know why I even bothered to dress up. I even bought that stupid dress just because he wanted to go out to this new fancy Italian place. He canceled and because I waited 15 minutes for him to not show up, standing outside - in the cold might I add- I think I am allowed to sulk a little!"

In the end, you had talked yourself into quite a rage and fall back into the pillows, your arms crossed in front of your chest. "And no, you said I should take a break from watching that movie but since you are not my mother I am allowed to watch whatever!"

You pierce him with a glare but only for a moment before you deflate.

"Sorry for getting all bitchy there," you shuffle around, hands searching for the remote to stop the movie.

"It's alright," Thranduil says and cocks his head. "Now that you are done, am I allowed to go after him and nail his balls to the ground for standing you up?"

A smile tugs on your lips as you shake your head. "No, you are not. I'm sure he has his reasons." The reason wasn't spelled out in the message but after hopping around in the dating scene for a while now, you know what ´I'm sorry but I don't think we really fit. You are a great person though!´ means.

It was nothing new, though it hurt the same as it did the first time.

"Well, unless there was a sudden death in his family I don't see a reason why he couldn't have canceled before the date," he huffs "-you know like a normal person would do"

You shrug your shoulders. "It's done now. Maybe it just wasn't supposed to happen."

"No, it wasn't. Not with a guy like him," Thranduil shakes his head, the long braid of silver blonde hair getting even more disheveled by the movement. "You deserve a man that doesn't cancel, doesn't let you stand outside in the cold!"

"Yes," you sigh again, staring wistfully at the TV "my Mister Darcy."

"He was literally the reason why Elizabeth ran out into the rain and cold," Thranduil responds deadpanned and you throw a pillow in his direction which he elegantly catches.

"I will not stand for this Darcy-hate! Ugh, you are such a bad friend," you whine, "I got stood up and you are making fun of one of the two people who have never let me down.. one person now that you decided to be a meanie!" You once again pout.

This time it works, a little too well because suddenly Thranduil looks at you with that one look of him, the one that breaks through every defense you could build up. He looks at you like you just told him you were dying, all the compassion he can find in his otherwise cold heart spilling out of his cerulean eyes that wander over your face.

"You know you have every right to feel sad about the date not happening," he says carefully, tilting his head slightly in a way that oozes pity, "You were looking forward to it, you even bought a dress for it. Let me cheer you up, I can cook something for you and we can watch a movie later or we can go out and drink until I have to hold your hair in the bathrooms." He smiles softly, sincere and it makes you want to jump up from the couch and hide in your room.

You two didn't do sincere; you bantered, you made jokes on behalf of the other and you most certainly did not comfort each other after a failed date. Your friendship needed lightheartedness, it thrived on sarcasm and arguments about everything and anything that came to your minds.

But the offer is tempting, especially the cooking part. Thranduil is a chef, working in his own restaurant; 'The Green Leaf' and he did a damn good job at it. Most nights, like this one, he comes home and cooks for you because apparently, Goldfish crackers were not as good for your diet as one part of the name misled you to believe and even though you made fun of Thranduils diet as well, fully vegan and with a distaste for anything that made life worth living like chocolate ice cream, he knew exactly how to whip up a meal that had you salivating.

You stare him down, weighing your options. Option one was to remain on the couch where you would shovel the ice cream down until you would inevitably get sick, watching Pride & Prejudice and mourning the never-happening and probably very boring date you would’ve had.

Option two would entail a doubtlessly very delicious meal as well as the possibility of getting drunk as fuck in a bar.

The choice comes easy.

"Okay," you agree and raise a pointed finger at him as a victorious grin spreads on his lips "But-" you wiggle the finger "you will not do this out of pity because I do not need pity from a man!"

Thranduil's grin only seems to grow, lightening up his eyes "No of course not. No pity here. I promise!" He stands up from the couch in a hurry, grabbing the bag he had left on the chair. When you don't move except to reach for the remote again, he shakes his head. "Leave Mr. Darcy for another day, you have to change!"

"Change?" you ask bewildered, looking around the apartment. "I thought you were going to cook here and not at the restaurant. Why would I need to change now?"

Thranduil scoffs, turning his back to you to walk towards the kitchen, his voice growing louder as it's accompanied by the sound of the fridge opening.

"Because I know you spent the entire day planning your outfit. You said you bought a new dress and I will not cook you an entire meal for you to sit there in your sweatpants!" he calls out and you throw your head against the couch with a groan that has Thranduil leaning out of the kitchen door

"You want the food, you follow the chef's orders," he copies the raised finger in your direction "Don't be a brat, get your butt off the couch and into your room before I have to spank you! I'll call you when you can come out."

The threat is met with you sticking your tongue out and one second thinking you could defy the order but that is until he fakes a quick step back into the room and you peel the blankets away squeaking "I'm moving! I'm moving!" while stumbling through the living room. "Jeez"

Despite knowing he would never hurt you the thought of Thranduil spanking you has you blushing a ridiculous amount and you don't turn around so he doesn't see it.

"But just so you know, I will wear the dress but only so I don't have to squeeze myself into it after dinner when we go out!" you yell over your shoulder instead and you swear you hear him chuckle before you slip into your room and close the door behind you.

The sweatpants land on your bed, followed by the sweater you had put on after getting the text message from Jack. You remain in your underwear, which you hadn't been bothered to change and stare at yourself in the mirror of your wardrobe. You are confronted with the blush the spanking comment had left on your cheeks and down your neck, and you scowl at the image.

He is your best friend and roommate.

Get a grip!

The dress you had bought for the date still hangs on the wardrobe door, a short, and black number that wasn't something you would normally wear but when you had stalked the Instagram Account for the place you would’ve eaten at today, nothing already existent in your closet had seemed fitting.

Staring at it now you question the length as well as the relatively deep front and back. After all, this was a normal dinner with your best friend, right? Yes, you would maybe leave for a club or bar after this and you had worn all kinds of clothes for a night out with Thranduil in your company but this dress had been bought for the sole reasons of looking sexy and with the hopes of getting lucky.

You shake the thoughts away and grab the hanger with the dress on.

This was a normal dinner with your best friend and this was just a dress. He had seen you in other skimpy clothes and literally any other form of dressed as well as undressed on several accidental occasions. There is no need to think this over and fall into an endless spiral of doubts.

With a nod to yourself for this mature thinking, wow, aren't you a well-functioning grown-up? – you slip the garment over your head, pinching and twisting the fabric until it sits to your satisfaction.

The hem barely covers your thighs, just doing enough so it wouldn't flash your bottom at the slightest movement but showing enough leg for you to feel powerful. The same was with the deep neckline. Bending forward was not an option, though it would draw eyes on you, hopefully.

You put the discarded jewelry back on again, a subtle choker necklace and a pair of more flashy earrings with - sadly fake- diamonds dangling and catching the light in them. The makeup is done quickly as well, some touches of a brush on your jawline, some lovely shade of lipstick on your lips, the movement of routine flows through your body with no need to really think about it.

After spraying some of your favorite perfume on your neck and behind your ears you wait.

Sitting on the edge of your bed you wait and you definitely don't think back to Thranduil's statement. No. Never.

Maybe a little bit.

Because when he calls out for you a fifteen-minute heads-up, you feel the blush coming back and the suspicion confirms itself at the last look in the mirror. You raise your head, challenging the woman in the mirror with an arch of the eyebrow before walking out the door and into what could only be described as a fever dream.

The living room is dark, the moss green curtains pulled closed except for a small gap where the afternoon sun filters through into the flat. The dining room table is clear from all the jackets, mail and stuff that accumulates throughout the day and week that are usually thrown on it and instead, there are candles.

Candles!

Candles in silver candleholders, like actual burning candles. Next to the expensive-looking candleholders is a vase filled with lavender, full and flourished purple flowers that fill the room with a soft and dizzying smell.

Suddenly you are very glad you are not in your sweats anymore, there is a heat rising in your body and setting your cheeks aflame.

Fidgeting with your hands you quietly step forward into the room to the kitchen, your eyes flittering from the table to the cleaned-up sofas and then you can see Thranduil rushing from the counter to the stove.

His back is turned to you, offering you a view of broad shoulders and arms flexing beneath the white shirt he had changed into, and even worse, the tight black pants he now wears, showing off his long legs and- you look a little higher, checking him out and blushing like it's a guilty pleasure.

Of course, the pants would show off his perfect arse as well.

You shouldn't stare.

No matter how magnificent the sight is.

And oh, it surely is magnificent.

You snap back into reality, take a lavender-filled breath, and walk into the kitchen.

It's a beautiful kitchen, not one of the reasons you had first checked out the apartment but one that had tipped the arguments for it in the end. And you are glad it did, because when you had taken roommate applications Thranduil simply waltzed into it, nodded and offered you the first year of rent with 25% on top of it if you would remove the pop-into-the-microwave-Lasagna from the freezer and never dared to buy something like that again.

His brisk and bold and sometimes very harsh attitude would've maybe frightened any other person off but you had seen the money, the prospect of a cook as a roommate and a handsome one at that, and had held out the contract with one hand while the other threw out the lasagna.

And look where that had brought you.

The kitchen is now filled with more vegetables than you have ever seen in one place that isn't a market, there is nearly always a pot with something ready for you on the stove and the fondest memories you have with Thranduil are baking Christmas cookies, throwing flour into each others faces so that your hair had been colored white like Thranduils, or you learning how to cut vegetables under his stern gaze because "No, you can not cut a carrot the same way you cut the bell pepper!"

Now here he is again, creating a memory that will never let you go.

You let your eyes wander over the stove, where one pot is cooking rice, the other has some onions caramelizing with garlic from the smell of it and Thranduil has one pan in his hand, throwing some cut tofu into the air while he brushes some oil onto white dough stretched into hand-sized bits.

He is fully in his element, maneuvering what seems like a three-course meal without any help or breaking a sweat. Setting down the pan with the tofu (hadn't that been a fun journey of convincing until you had let him cook that without any protest?) he wipes his hand on the towel thrown over his shoulder and turns to the cutting board on the kitchen island. He has even more flowers on the island, pink gerberas and white orchids stand next to his array of mint, basil and rosemary.

You have no idea what has gotten into him, there have never been this many flowers in your apartment except for the few ones some of your dates had bought you and even then they landed in the trash a couple of days later.

Sometimes Thranduil had even said he had confused them for some swept-in leaves after you asked him where the last bouquet went.

The man was truly an enigma.

"Smells good in here," you say and lean over the stove.

Thranduil clicks his tongue against his teeth. With a soft growl, he presses out a "Move," not sounding really annoyed but disturbed by you being in his way and with a giggle you move away to grant him free access to the pots.

"What is on the menu today, Chef?" you ask as you hop onto the island. No matter how much space Thranduil needs for cooking, he always leaves that one spot on the corner free for you to sit on.

"Tofu Tikka Masala you noisy girl," Thranduil doesn't turn around and for a minute you want him to see you, see the dress you have put on but then your gaze falls onto his back again and you blush.

Thank god, he didn't turn to find you checking him out, again.

"Couldn't you have waited until I told you the food is ready? Now I have you sitting around here, distracting me, even though I don't have a lot of time to begin with."

You know he is lying. He had told you more than once that you were a pleasure in the kitchen. Not at the stove but looking pretty sitting on your spot on the island and not touching a thing.

"Well, we could have ordered some pizza," you tease him, and he grunts. When he still doesn't turn around, you lean forward, a smirk on your lips. "Or we could have gone out to 'Oakenshields' and-" The rest of the sentence dies on your lips as Thranduil's whole body snaps around and you nearly squeak when he leans into your space.

Nose against nose, he stares you down, cerulean eyes holding yours without any playfulness in them. "You are on very thin ice," he says quietly and while you know he still doesn't mean it like that, you squirm under the gaze and sudden rush of adrenalin that his proximity is causing your head to swim.

"Yeah?" you ask breathlessly, sounding way too excited for your own good, and you try kicking him against his chin but he catches your leg before it hits him, and as soon as his hands grab the bare skin he lets go again, falling back like it had shocked him physically.

Cerulean eyes drop, leaving your face that suddenly goes up in flames and for a second you can see his breath hitch, his chest moving at the sharp inhale of air as he takes you in. The moment builds up, the atmosphere between you changes and charges with something and for this short, stopped moment in time you allow yourself to think:

'What if?'

Then a timer goes off, distant at first but growing louder when Thranduil's face shifts back to the usual calm facade that reflects not a thing of what is going on in his head. He sniffs, hiding behind his dark eyebrows when he lowers his head and pats you gently on your thighs.

"I'll rather perish than go to 'Oakenshields'," he rasps, the raw edge in his voice the only remnant showing that he was affected by whatever that had been between you.

Then he turns around and pushes the tray with dough into the oven.

He covers it up professionally with the joke, of course, because Thranduil Oropherion could never have been seen with feelings that go deeper than what any human would consider barely amiable.

Yes, he is your best friend and he makes an effort around you to not be the coldhearted asshole he is too, for example, Thorin Oakenshield, owner of the restaurant slash bar that the last critic had called a "serious opponent in the gourmet chef world".

Thranduil took the news so well that he had a furious meltdown of cooking for nearly 20 hours to create a menu that he would serve the critic to show him Thorin was not to put anywhere near him on a culinary level before he threatened to buy the paper the man was working for and fire him.

He only calmed down when he found out the critic had persisted to order his own wine choices and not the ones Thranduil had carefully paired with each course so he had decided that the man had no taste whatsoever and he couldn't give a shit about what he had said.

You had seen the irony in his statement and the state of him, tired, overworked, still behaving like a diva and you had just stifled a laugh and helped him clean the mess in the kitchen.

It was one of those moments that shows you he cares more than he leads on, about life, about people, about what the world thought of him but when it comes to love the man is as warm as deep diving naked in the antarctic would be.

He can be nice, living with him was pleasant and it got a whole lot more comfortable when you got to know each other better.

He makes jokes, he shows you how much he appreciates you through his food, you two watch movies together, go out, get drunk, get home and giggle when one of you trips on the doormat and after a few months he even lets you fall asleep on him when you came home crying because a date didn't go well.

You had seen him drive home in a frenzy when his mother had called him about his younger brother breaking his leg climbing trees, and he had another friend, Bard, with whom he had a friendly get-together every now and again; it was only the romance part he never talks about, never shows, never ever makes room for.

While you go out for dates- he works.

When you meet someone at the club you dance, you make out, you go home with someone else- Thranduil just ignores any woman or man who talks to him.

Thranduil's love life (if existent) is a mystery to you and that makes it even more confusing why he had looked at you the way he did just now. Why would he suddenly decide to buy flowers, to cook you an entire meal because you had been stood up and play-dress up?

Your brain is steaming with these thoughts by the time you catch up with reality again, a snap of fingers in front of your face pulls you back and you blink, slightly dazed. Thranduil stands next to you, body facing the cutting board in front of him but you can see him sneaking a peek towards you out of the corner of his eyes.

"Do you know what you want to do after dinner yet?" he asks, slicing some cilantro and parsley.

His long fingers wrap around the shiny knife elegantly, drawing your gaze in and keeping it locked onto the movement of him cutting a lemon in half and drizzling a few drops of juice into the bowl with the herbs.

You try not to stare at the few drops wetting his palm.

"We should go out," you say, voice wavering in between a question and a hoarse croak. You swallow and move your head before your eyes follow a few seconds later, blinking up at Thranduil. "There is this new rooftop bar- they opened a few days ago and are still baiting people in with the two-for-one drink offer."

Thranduil smirks, leaning his hip against the counter and wiping his hand on the towel. "Ah, yes, because that went so well the last time?" he inquires, eyebrow raised teasingly.

"I couldn't possibly know what you are talking about, Thranduil," you purse your lips, suppressing the smile just barely that threatens to spill out at the memory of the last time you went to a new bar, trying out the "new and never been done before"-drinks the small hipster bar had promised you and that'd ended up being the worst cocktails you ever had.

"You still owe me for the trousers I had to get dry-cleaned because you missy-" he half-threateningly holds out his pointy finger again, "you missed the toilet"

"You could have shoved me in the right direction!"

"Ah yes, blame the man that saved you from throwing up all over your date," Thranduil turns away again, adding coconut milk and chopped tomatoes into the pot with the garlic and onions.

"Occupational hazard of being my friend," you say, giving him the brightest and most dearest smile when he holds out a spoon he'd dipped into the curry, before leaning in and wrapping your lips around it, letting the flavors swirl over your tongue.

Then a low hum leaves your throat, a sound not only shocking you but also Thranduil by the looks of it.

By the look of him.

There is a sudden pink covering his face, right around his nose, showing off his prominent cheekbones in a way that lifts the gorgeous feature even more. It is such an unusual sight, Thranduil, blushing, that you are taken aback by it and the spoon slips out of your lips, nearly falling when Thranduil pulls it out of your mouth, clearing his throat suspiciously loud and rough that it sounds physically hurtful.

He steps back, hiding behind a "Good then?" that you can only agree to with a low "Yes" because– firstly you could never correct him on the taste of something he prepares, he knows your taste well enough to always get the spices perfectly adjusted to your preferences, and secondly your head is blissfully empty for any other answer.

The moment passes, gets drowned out by another timer going off, followed by Thranduil shifting into chef-mode as you endearingly call the shift in his demeanor into a controlled acrobat when he starts handling all those pants and pots, stirring here, tasting there, focusing on everything all at once with a concentration that nothing could penetrate.

You sit back and watch him with a soft smile, observing him as he pulls the bread out of the oven, and exchanges the tray with two dark green bowls out of the cabinets to warm them up in the leftover heat.

He moves with a grace that you surely could not copy, all of his long limbs knowing exactly when to push the rice away from the burner, ducking away when the steam of pouring the hot water into the sink would have given your face a free steaming and all that while looking extremely put together with his tight pant- braid! and white shirt he didn't even bother protecting with an apron like he always forces you to wear.

It's frustrating and attractive how much confidence he oozes in the kitchen. You wonder how the cooks managed to do their job without dropping to the floor and praising him like the godly being he seems to be.

He looks perfectly put together when he finishes plating up and ushers you back into the living room, where you are forced to sit down while he disappears into the kitchen and brings the plates and bowls, shaking off your offer to help every time you can barely start the question.

So you do what is expected of you and you wait, brushing off some hair of your dress- long silver blond strands that you twirl around your finger.

The kitchen light gets dimmed and Thranduil comes into the living room one last time, holding a bottle of wine in his hands that by the looks of it, and by that you mean expensive as fuck, must have been nicked from the restaurant.

He fills your glass, then his own and finally sits down on the other side of the table.

Before you can say something, he raises his glass, "To this evening."

You smile and raise your glass to his, "To Marcus-" Thranduil's eyebrow twitches but you only smile wider "Thank god he canceled, I much rather spend this night with good food and good company"

A deep chuckle accompanies the soft 'clink' of your glasses. You take a first sip, holding Thranduil's gaze over the rim and over the flicking fire of the candles that illuminate his face just right. The wine is smooth, and refreshing as it wets your suddenly dry throat.

You use the plate in front of you as an opportunity to look away without it feeling like you are fleeing from his gaze, even if the thought is heavy in your stomach.

"Everything looks delicious, Thranduil," you say, gesturing to the bowls with the rice and tofu tikka masala, the dough that turned out to be naan that he placed on a wooden board between the flowers and the candle.

Thranduil gives you an appreciative nod, grabbing a naan and ripping it apart. "I tried to make something that comes close to your planned meal of chocolate ice cream," there is a mocking tone in his voice, a drawl on the words chocolate ice cream that is the perfect mix between friendly teasing and his true disgust towards it.

You let out a giggle, following his example of dipping the naan into the curry. "Oh, you are so gracious for trying but we both know that ice cream is high above this. It doesn't even fall in the same food category to be able to compare. If you truly look at it, it's its own category"

"Never mind everything I have said, I've forgotten that I'm talking to the person who thinks a cup of coffee counts as an entire meal. How very stupid of me"

"Not everyone can start their morning looking like you do and have the energy to go out for a run and then cook breakfast," you shoot back, the realization of the compliment slipping out pours onto you when you see Thranduil's lips curve into a very self-satisfactory grin.

"So you are awake to notice," he leans back in his chair, popping another piece of the bread into his mouth and looking so smug that the urge to kick him is rising in you again. "You simply choose to act like you are non-responsive until you've had your coffee."

Instead of kicking him, you roll your eyes and fill your spoon with rice.

Yes, that was one way to put it.

The other would be that you are simply too scared you would say something very stupid and inappropriate when you watched him do his yoga in nothing but very tight pants while you sat on the couch and pretended to stare into empty space that just coincidently was very close to his arching form in front of the window.

"Yes, I live by the rule that coffee comes before any man."

"How rude, to consider me 'any' man," you want to say something but Thranduil is quicker to continue, shutting you up with that gorgeous smile, "Am I not the only man in your life right now who you don't leave on read after a while?"

"That is a very low bar to measure yourself with"

"Darling, those men you date offer nothing but low standards."

You nearly choke on the wine you'd reached for when Thranduil says these words, this term of endearment he casually throws into the sentence, far too confident to be a slip of tongue, far too soft to be meant as mocking.

He said it as if it had never not been there, as if it wasn't completely out of character. For a moment you consider reaching over the table to poke him, to make sure he is really here and not some (very accurate, word class if it truly was one) robotic imitation.

There is a glimmer of mischief in his eyes that only seems to twinkle brighter the longer you stare at him and you wonder if he feels like he has won the discussion or if he can hear your brain mulling over the 'darling'.

Either way, he doesn't comment on it further, not on this nor the matter of your dating.

Why he thought to do so in the first place was a mystery to you, another piece of the puzzle that was this evening. He had made comments about the men you were seeing before, subtle phrases made after glancing over to your screen and the conversations you were having, never really cruel but you wouldn't say that they were particularly nice either.

Sometimes when you came home from a night out, you never brought them back to your flat, Thranduil would simply raise an eyebrow, not saying anything and so much at the same time.

You dig back into your food and like always conversation flows naturally between you. Pushing the teasing and the sizzling of something warm in your stomach that you had felt in the kitchen away into the back of your mind you let yourself enjoy the moment, the comfort of sitting at the table, a nice dinner in front of you and the home-y feeling that was in the air.

Curry and naan fill your stomach as the wine settles in your head and laughter slips your tongue.

Empty plates get pushed aside, forgotten on the side of the table until later, making room for you to prop up one elbow and let your cheek rest in the palm of your hand as Thranduil talks about his newest ideas for his restaurant.

The candles flicker, coloring both your faces golden as the last bit of sunlight sneaks away from the tiny crack in the curtains.

After another glass of wine and some well-coordinated cleaning up, a hand-in-hand process of taking the plates into the kitchen where you load the dishwasher and Thranduil wipes down the pots and pans in the sink, Thranduil throws you out of the kitchen again.

You hop into the bathroom, spend a few minutes staring at yourself in the mirror and try to think about the outcome of this evening.

A few hours ago you had been ready to go out with someone else but right now, in the dim light that is too bright to conceal how flushed your cheeks are and too dark to be the glimmering sparkle in your eyes, there is not one thought wasted on any other guy.

It's a complicated feeling, being confronted with the crush you'd harbored on Thranduil for a while now and while it wasn't always easy to keep it at bay, it had been nowhere near as hard to keep your focus on the big fat label of 'friendship' that was the only thing ever to be between you.

Yes, you know that that label should hamper the want.. the need to kiss the ever-living daylight out of Thranduil when he stared at you across those flickering candles but who wouldn't want to do that to an attractive man showering you with attention he had given you today?

Any normal-thinking person would.

At least that is what you tell yourself, that these feelings are normal because he is attractive and not just because you are attracted to him.

Back in the living room, you fall onto the sofa, legs stretched and feet propped onto the small table in front of the couch, and fight the urge to cuddle into the pillows more than necessary. Any deeper and you would for sure fall asleep and with how your evening is going, that that would be a shame was an understatement.

"Thranduil?" you call out when another minute passes and the noises of washing up had quietened down and Thranduil still wasn't out of the kitchen again.

"One moment," his deep voice responds with a subtle grunt, "You can begin your search for a bar and please don't let it be the rooftop bar you mentioned earlier."

On another day you would have chosen a bar or even a club to go to, especially after your stomach did that traitorous summersault at the sound of his voice again.

Tonight, with your cozy little apartment smelling like fresh flowers and curry and your mind clinging onto a possessive and dangerous thought of 'What if..'´ you suddenly can't think of anything worse than going out with Thranduil.

Going out would mean that Thranduil's attention wouldn't be on you alone anymore.

"Thranduil?" you call out again, "Let's stay in and watch a movie."

"What?" He pops his head out of the kitchen and you giggle at the sight of soap bubbles on his nose as he wipes his hand over his surprised face. He rolls his eyes, lifting one arm, - oh god his sleeves are rolled up, exposing far too much skin and veiny arms for you to think clear- and wipes the soap away. "I thought you wanted to go out."

"No," you draw the word out, still hung up on the smooth-looking skin, "We talked about going out or watching a movie," shuffling your shoulders into the pillows you smile at him "and I think we should watch a movie. It has been a while since we did that."

Thranduils face softens and he cocks his head, "It has," he agrees, the tenderness in his eyes reaching his voice.

With Thranduil running his restaurant and your work demanding more of you there hadn't been a lot of time you had sat down and watched something together recently.

You still had your mornings full of nursing coffee and yoga and the evenings where you weren't on a date or Thranduil away on business you had gone out together.

The summer with all its warm and sunny days and bars filled with cool drinks and long evenings fading into soft blue nights had been fun- that didn't mean you didn't miss cuddling into a blanket on the couch and watching a movie with Thranduil where you spend the entire time making small comments only to annoy him.

"How about you sort out what movie you want to see and I'll fetch us a snack?" he proposes and you let out a hum. Thranduil starts to turn away, then halters, "And if you could find anything other than 'Pride and Prejudice' I would be very grateful."

You did, in fact, not search further for the movie that you had started earlier.

Something that Thranduil comments with a loud "God, please do not do this to me," when he reenters the living room.

Stubbornly, you shake your head, your finger dancing over the buttons on the remote control. "You won't know if you like it or not if you never stay to watch it through! What if this is your movie? You say you don't have a favorite movie, Thranduil- this could be it!" Your arms flare in the air, pointing the remote to the screen while you try your best to sound as motivational as you can under the skeptical raise of his eyebrow - though the corner of his lips twitch, betraying his amusement however hard he wants to look self-assured in his completely (unreasonable) hate for the movie you consider one of the best of all time.

It's only when he saunters closer that you see what he holds in his hands and it momentarily lets you forget the never-ending argument.

"Ice cream!"

He laughs deep and rough, always a bit darker and richer when he has drunk wine, his voice and tone taking on the velvety edge that clouds your mind just as much as the alcohol.

"That was much more enthusiastic than the reaction to the soufflé I made you a while back. Should I take offense? Is this your revenge for my dislike of this Darcy that you so obsess about?"

Sticking out your tongue you grab one of the two buckets he holds out to you, as Thranduil takes his place on the couch; always on the longer side where he could stretch out his long legs. "Do not disrespect the man of my dreams or I will buy the mac-just-add-milk-cheese," you open the lid of the carton box, reaching over to the table to place it there.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Mhm, I wonder if they still have the ones that only need water?"

"Please just press play you vicious woman," Thranduil pokes his finger into your side, admitting defeat with a desperate sigh and opens his own box of ice cream. When he sees you staring at it, he rolls his eyes. "What now? Can't a man enjoy something sweet once in a while?"

"A man yes," you snort "But you-" you poke him as well, "you're always on me when I buy ice cream and now you eat.. what is that..?"

Leaning into his space you ignore how Thranduil swats at you gently like he wants to get rid of a fly "It's chocolate, no way! My, my, should I call your health insurance and warn them that we will need a checkup? Maybe a brain-"

"Goodness gracious!" Thranduil groans, a sound that reverberates through you as you are still leaning into him, one hand propped next to his thigh, "Will you shut up or do I have to do that for you?"

That does shut you up instantly.

Not a sound leaves your mouth - left wide open as if he had simply pressed paused on your whole body - and you slowly turn your head away from him and back to the screen.

Now, while he did shock you enough with his words to let the teasing about the ice cream slide back down your very much dry throat, you can't help it to at least attempt to have the last word.

To calm your racing heart if not to for the sudden lack of thoughts, "Only if you swear to watch the whole movie without talking shit about Mister Darcy"

"Half of it and a little bit of shit-talking?"

"All of it and none of that!"

"Just let me make my comments and I will buy you your ice cream next time."

You squint your eyes, challenging him to stay with the offer and consider if it's worth it.

You could easily buy your own snacks, you did it every day you went grocery shopping anyway but there was a satisfying pleasure in knowing that the great Thranduil, hater of all sweets, would not only pick out ice cream for you, but pay for it as well.

Maybe he would even throw in something else as well, if you agreed to him and let him make his jokes.

In the end, you were simply grateful that he was here, sitting on the couch to watch a movie he knows means a lot to you, despite his dislike for it, and maybe that was enough..

"Deal!"

Finally, you eagerly press play, allowing the soft piano music to fill the room a second time this day.

While you can't help but smile, muttering the words into the spoons full of ice cream, Thranduil is less mean than you thought he would be. In the beginning, you could see him rolling his eyes whenever Mr. Darcy came on screen - something you commented with a sigh and a giggle - but like you always predicted, he soon relaxed into the cushions.

His face softens, just like his comments, mouth corners turning up as he watches the discussion between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth in the reading room.

In one particularly dramatic scene, you turn to Thranduil with wide eyes. "See? See? Mister Darcy is just misunderstood. He's so in love with Elizabeth, but he doesn't know how to express it properly."

Thranduil rolls his eyes playfully. "Oh, please. He just needs to learn how to be less insufferable."

You lean closer to him, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know, you could learn a thing or two from Darcy, Thranduil."

He scoffs. "Me? Like what?"

Despite the tone he lifts one arm so that you can really lean into his side and you follow the invitation. Drawing your legs up, ignoring that the hem of your dress rides up your thigh, you scoot into Thranduil's space and rest your back against the length of his chest. His arm remains on the headrest of the couch.

You grin. "How to sweep a girl off her feet. Be a little less aloof and a little more... passionate–" your voice wanders into a wistful sigh, words getting lost as you watch with bated breath as Mister Darcy helps Elizabeth into the carriage.

There is a deep rumble behind you, a hot exhale of breath hitting the back of your head and while it seems like Thranduil wants to say something, he remains silent.

When you slightly turn your head, you see him watching the screen with a look in his eyes that you can't pin point.

"Why exactly does he flex his hand like that?" Thranduil quizzes with what sounds like genuine interest and you nearly bounce off the couch in excitement.

"Okay so there are multiple ways that this could be interpreted, some think it represents his armor cracking because he has been so buttoned-up, closed-off all the time and now his muscles betray the character he is putting on," you start, the words tumbling out of your mouth fast and rushed now that Thranduil shows his interest "It's like he is unraveling slowly but surely."

"It's also the first time they touch," you add.

Thranduil cocks his head, "It is?"

The grin on your face grows wider and you nod enthusiastically. "Yes! It's the first time they touch and it's pure skin to skin contact which was totally scandalous in their time, hence the gloves and long sleeves. Imagine going on through your life with these walls built around you as a way to protect your heart and then there is this infuriating woman."

"I can't imagine," Thranduil throws in yet it's so quietly that you nearly miss it.

Nearly.

Your tongue trips over a few words as you continue speaking, caught on what Thranduil had said under his breath as if it had been meant for only him, "-well and she.. she is rebellious. She does not follow the etiquette of wearing gloves, she speaks her mind freely and she contradicts everything that you have been taught," you count on your fingers "And she must have been the first woman in a long time that has touched him like that, even if it's as simple as using his help getting into the carriage"

"Mhm," Thranduil raises the arm that isn't behind you and taps his lips. "And you find that moment important for their building romance?"

"Without a doubt in my mind."

"Alright."

And with that, the topic is dropped and you both return to watch the movie.

That is until Thranduil's arm drops lower.

At first, you think it could have been unintentional, physics and gravity and all that stuff being the reason that his arm fell or slipped from the headrest on your shoulders.

It happens, maybe it had been tiresome to leave it up there, stretched away at such an angle. That is what you tell yourself in the few seconds where his arm simply.. stays still.. but then his arm bends at the elbow and the movement is so slow, so careful that your brain has enough time to forget the movie and focus on how delicately wary his hand comes into contact with the naked skin of your arm.

At first, it's just his fingertips.

Trembling ever so slightly they ghost over your biceps, giving the impression that he is still unsure on how to proceed and you wait, trying your hardest not to flex your arm and maybe scare him away and it's the hardest thing - this kind of touch was rare.

The waiting and effort are worth every second of agonizing stillness because following the tips is the hot palm of his hand, curving around your upper arm and holding you.

Your senses are aflame like the candles, lavender clouding your mind, cold ice cream melting on your tongue as the rough skin of his fingertips trails over your arm in the smallest circles.

Reflecting on the previous conversation there is one sentiment burning its way through your body, bringing with it all the moments of today, his hands on your leg in the kitchen, the storm of emotions crackling through his eyes like thunder, splitting his facade like lightening, the way he had reacted on spoonfeeding you the curry, the tension.

This has to mean something.

This has to be something.

You make up your mind to confront him about it even before he opens his mouth for the next commentary again.

"Darcy sure has a fantastic way to show his love," his tone was dripping with sarcasm.

"Nothing screams more 'I love you' than separating the sister of the woman you love from your best friend because you think the family is far too poor and lacks social etiquette," he scoffs, seemingly being his normal self and you would have believed him if his eyes didn't dart towards you, hinting at a touch of nervousness in those cerulean seas which lack the usual confidence.

"Maybe he is unsure how to tell her that he loves her," you say, holding his gaze.

"Well, there are other ways than this," Thranduil says, pointing toward the screen where Darcy is now standing painfully awkward in Charlotte's home that Elizabeth visits.

While you know that he is trying to follow Elizabeths advice of simple conversation, Thranduil doesnt seem to make that connection.

"Why aren't you out and about flirting with women?" It is a slip of the tongue, led on by the teasing you are so used to yet it comes out far too soft, far too wobbly. Quickly you add to the question with what is half cough, half laugh: "Huh, I mean if you are so sure that Darcy is doing something wrong, you should be picking up women, right?"

Thranduil raises an eyebrow in confusion. He opens his mouth, slightly tilting his head. "What? Why should I do that?"

Now you wonder if he was more stupid than you thought or if you heavily missed him having a girlfriend. Or not a girlfriend, or a partner. Were you that ignorant? Did you miss anything he told you about his sexuality?

"I–" you stutter "I didn't want to pry. I´m sorry. I.. I'm just wondering why you never go out on dates"

"Oh," there is a solemn look on his face "Ah, I had hoped this wouldn't come up for a while longer," He pauses, glancing at the TV and a feeble smile has the corner of his mouth twitching.

You don't have to follow his gaze to know that Mister Darcy has just followed Elizabeth into the rain; the only scene Thranduil has ever watched with you.

Maybe you had been ignorant before but the resigned tone in his voice is loud and clear. "We don't have to talk about it!" you rush in, "Really. No need to converse. Let's just watch the movie alright?" Without thinking about it, your hand moves to his chest, a reflex to gently pat him that dies when you feel the hard thumping of his heart through his shirt.

"I could never date someone, let alone think about a woman the way I think about you."

There it was again, the casualness that had tainted the 'Darling' from earlier. You would have laughed, hell, it is already bubbling up your throat when the heaviness of his confession crashes down on you and all that leaves you is a choked sound and a sudden lack of air has you gasping.

The combination of both hurts but not enough to cover the flutter in your stomach.

"What?" you ask not because you didn't understand him, you had heard every word, every syllable clear and distinct, but because you can't believe that you had heard it.

Your hand still rests atop his chest, feeling the heartbeat- hard and fast.

The same way he suddenly pressed his mouth on yours.

It happens quickly, leaving no time for you to react how you want to react and the only thing you can do is gasp.

The kiss ends as swiftly as it has started at the sound yet Thranduil doesnt withdraw completely. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath ghosting over your dry lips. There was a question in it, the same that is in his eyes when you gather the courage to look up.

Thranduil wasn't this hesitant, he was efficient, confident and so fucking sure of himself that his lack of those qualities right now spoke just as much as the kiss itself.

In the background, you hear rain but all you feel is your mind clearing up like the sky after the downpour.

Without further hesitation, you nod and Thranduil lunges forward again, this time with enough force that you lose your balance - or maybe it was the feel of his lips on yours that prevented you from catching yourself as you fall backward and crash into the pillows.

As far as first kisses go, most of the ones you had with guys were significantly worse. They were usually awkward, sometimes even uncomfortable because you weren't yet attuned to each other, but you weren't kissing a strange guy in a bar here.

You were kissing Thranduil.

You had been friends for years, you had seen each other in the most embarrassing situations, he had probably been confronted with your unclothed body more often than others, and if there was one thing he had noticed, it was what disappointed you about your dates.

And while he kissed you silly and stupid you were happy about exactly this perceptiveness.

His hair falls around you like a curtain, his chest presses against yours and you get so used to the weight of his body on yours like it has never been different.

And you hope it will never be any different.

"Shit," Thranduil groans against your lips, and you open your eyes, smiling up at him in a daze.

"What?"

"Now-" he kisses you again "Now that we got this out of the way.." Another kiss, a soft bite on your lips and you are so fucking glad to know that no woman has experienced this from him in a while. You are getting addicted to his kisses fast "..can you please stop dating these assholes and let me take you out for a real dinner?"

You nod hastily and lift your head to catch his mouth again. You only let him go for another second, when the perfect place pops into your mind - the last thought for the rest of the evening probably.

"Let's go to 'Oakenshields'"

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #the hobbit fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings x you #lotr x reader

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acewritesfics · 5 months

Text

Her Father's Eyes | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: No

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: former friends. Mentions of drunken one night stand, tough decisions were made.

Word Count: 1,876

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST | TAG LIST SIGN-UP

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

"Mabel, sweetheart, please slow down," Y/N calls after her three-year-old daughter as she runs away from her and towards the spot where they sit by the pond.

"Picnic! Mummy! Picnic!" The toddler cheers but comes to a halt as she notices someone in their spot.

Noticing the familiar faces surrounded by a brood of children, she adjusts the basket and blanket in her arms and takes Mabel's hand leading her to another area of the park. "Let's go find another place to sit."

Arriving under a tree, Y/N lets go of Mabel's and sets the picnic basket on the ground. Unfolding the blanket, she lays it out on the ground and places the blanket on it before walking over to her daughter and lifting her up to place her on the blanket.

Y/N takes out a handful of the toys she's brought with them. Mabel has a doll and a wooden horse with her that she will not leave the house without. She sits down and arranges the toys in front of Mabel. "Here you go, my love."

"Thank you, mummy."

"You're welcome," she smiles lovingly at her daughter, watching her play.

The little girl bears hardly any resemblance to her. She is convinced that Mabel looks more like her father with dark hair, button nose, pouted lips and vibrant blue eyes. Those same blue eyes were one of the reasons she was hesitant to return to Small Heath. People would know with only one look at Mabel, who she belonged too.

"Is that really you, Y/N L/N?"

Looking up from her daughter, Y/N saw Ada standing there, clutching Karl's hand, a stunned expression on her face. She didn't believe the lone girl among the Shelby siblings would see her from where she was.

"Ada, it's good to see you again," she says as she rises to her feet. She's immediately drawn in for a hug. "What are you doing in Small Heath? Last I heard, you were done with this place."

"The same goes for you. I'm back for a little visit. I thought Karl would enjoy spending time with his cousins," Ada explains. "How about you? Polly told me you moved to Norwich be closer to your sister."

"I returned a month ago to care for my mother," she says solemnly. "She became ill with a fever."

"How is she doing?" Ada inquires.

"She passed away 10 days ago," she replies, sadly.

"I'm truly sorry, Y/N. She was a wonderful lady" Ada expresses her condolences. The young woman hadn't seen Y/N's mother in a long time.

"Look, Mummy!" Mabel's enthusiastic shout cut her conversation with Ada short. She turns to the small girl who's pointing to the duck and ducklings swimming in the pond. Mabel's favourite animal, along with horses, happens to be ducks. She is completely enamoured with them. "Duckies!"

"They're duckies," she gasps feigning excitement as she kneels back on the blanket next to her.

"My goodness, who is this lovely little thing?" Ada asks, kneeling down to Mabel's level. When she takes a good look at the girl who looks so much like her father, she tries to hide her surprise.

"This is Mabel, my daughter," she introduces them. "Mabel, love, this is mummy's old friend Ada and her son Karl."

"It's lovely to meet you, Mabel," Ada smiles and holds her hand out towards Mabel. Mabel places her much smaller hand in hers and shakes it. "Karl, why don't you play with Mabel while mummy and Y/N have a little chat," Ada instructs her son as she encourages him to sit with Mabel.

Karl nods and sits beside Mabel as she shows him her doll and wooden horse and instructs him on how to play with them. She has no idea they are related, but she is already ordering him about. She is, after all, her father's daughter.

"Karl is growing into a handsome young man," Y/N watches the children. She last saw him during Freddie's funeral. If she remembered correctly, Karl was about two years old at the time. A few months later, she became pregnant with Mabel.

Glancing to Ada when she doesn't say anything, she sees that her old friend's lips are pursed, eyes slightly squinted and is thinking hard about something as she watches Mabel.

"She is beautiful Y/N," Ada finally says, having finished pondering her thoughts. "Is her father around?"

"No..." she admits looking down at her hands resting in her lap, thinking of how her daughter was conceived during a drunken night of passion. "No, he's not around."

"Does he know?" Ada continues to question her. Y/N goes to answer but Ada cuts her off before she can get a word out. "Of course he doesn't, other wise you'd be wearing his ring and using his last name. Does she have his last name?"

Y/N nods. "Her name is Mabel Evelyn Shelby."

"Will you tell him?" she asks.

"When the time is right," she sighs knowing it was inevitable now that she was back in Small Heath. The whispers could already be heard. Whether Tommy heard them or not, she didn't know.

"Are you living in your mum's house?" Ada asks, looking as though she's thinking up something.

She looks at her suspiciously. "We are."

"Well then, I'll drop by tomorrow and give you my address and telephone number that way you can call me and come visit when you're in London," Ada says as she stands to her feet. "I would love for Karl to get to know his cousin."

"So would I," Y/N agrees, also standing to her feet.

Ada draws her in for another hug. When she lets go, she turns to the children. "Karl, it's time to go, sweetheart. Say goodbye to Mabel."

Y/N smiles when Karl mumbles a goodbye to his cousin. Mabel in return gives him a quick hug.

"That she doesn't get from her father," Ada quips as Karl walks over to her.

"I don't know. Tommy could be pretty affectionate when we were kids," she giggles thinking of how different Tommy was when they were growing up.

Later that night, when Mabel had finally drifted off to sleep, Y/N kisses her daughter's head, whispering sweet dreams to her before leaving her bedroom.

She moves into the kitchen and is about to start on the dishes when there is a knock on the door. She wipes her hands on the dish cloth and makes her way to the front door.

Swinging the door open, she’s startled to find Tommy standing there, a cigarette hanging from his perfect lips and an unsure look in those eyes he shares with his daughter.

“Tommy,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper but Tommy hears it.

“I know it’s late, but can I come in,” he asks, his smooth voice sounds uncertain, which isn’t what you heard often when he speaks.

She nods, moving out of the doorway to let him in. Once he’s inside, she closes the door and turns around to face him. She’s unable to look at him as she anxiously messes with the hem of her blouse.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, his voice going from unsure, to frustrated and impatient.

“Tell you what?” She asks, playing ignorant.

He frowns, “Do you think I’m daft?”

“Not at all,” she answers. Tommy had always been a smart one, even when he was being stupid.

“Then why didn’t you fucking tell me I have a daughter?”

“Because I knew as soon as you found out you’d have us married and playing house while you were still in love with that traitor.”

“I didn’t love her, she was a distraction from you,” he admits.

“That’s lovely, ain’t it?” She says sarcastically. “The boy I grew up loving, fucked a traitorous spy so he could distract himself from me.”

“Didn’t work though, did it?” He scoffs.

“Did you come here to argue about our past or ask about Mabel?” She questions him, her own patience wearing thin.

“Her names Mabel?” He asks. “After your grandmother.”

She nods remembering the woman she named her daughter after. Her grandma Mabel was the sweetest woman anyone would ever meet. She was always baking something sweet to hand out to the neighbourhood kids, crocheting blankets for expecting mothers and visiting the hospital to read to the sick children. Everybody loved her and she loved everyone.

“What’s the real reason you didn’t tell me about her?” he asks, less heated then a minute ago.

“I wanted to keep her safe,” she tells him, truthfully.

“I can keep her safe.”

“Can you though?” She questions him. “Don’t get me wrong, Tom, I am proud of how far you’ve taken the Shelby name. But as you’ve climbed the ladder, you’ve made enemies. Some of those enemies won’t hesitate to use her, a sweet and innocent little girl, against you and I couldn’t have that.”

“I want to see her,” he quietly demands.

“She’s asleep in bed,” she tells him. “Just don’t wake her.” She leads him to Mabel’s bedroom.

The door creaks as she pushes it open and walks into the room ahead of him. She watches him as he stares down at the little girl curled up in her bed, clutching her doll to her chest as soft snores emanate from her.

“She looks like you,” Tommy says softly as he looks down at the little girl with astonishment.

Y/N let’s out a chuckle, “I think she looks like you. Wait until she opens those pretty blue eyes of hers. She’s all you, Tommy.”

Watching his little girl sleep, brings a calmness to him and an understanding of why she did it. He would go to any lengths to protect her now knowing that she’s his, just like Y/N had gone to hers. “I understand why you didn’t tell me.”

“I should have told you,” she starts her apology. “I’m sorry I never told you. Just know it wasn’t an easy decision and it broke my heart to do it but I had to keep her safe. You have every right to be angry with me and to hate me.”

“Don’t leave again,” he says barely above a whisper, his eyes never moving from his daughter. “Don’t take her away again. Let me be here for her and you. Let me take care of the both of you.”

“We’re not going anywhere, Tom,” she tells him moving to stand closer to him as she also admires there little girl. “I know you can protect her and keep her safe.”

“And you,” he adds. “I can keep you safe and protected too.”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” she tells him.

“But I do,” he says before adding, “I always have. Even more so now that we’re going to be a family.”

“So, now you want to marry me?” She quips and leads him back out of the room so they don’t wake Mabel.

“I should have married you years ago,” he admits as they move into the kitchen, where Y/N makes them a cup of tea.

All through the night, the two parents talk about Mabel, Y/N filling him on everything he’s missed and Tommy learning everything he can about his daughter.

TAGGED: @chapter-in-my-old-diary - @hanawrites404 - @goblinjnr - @halsteadbrasil - @forgottenpeakywriter - @star-ggirl - @iceman-kazansky - @alexxavicry - @galactict3a - @crispynutella - @il0vebeingdelulu - @nicole-19s-world - @yeppaweshallsee

Bold means your @ didn't come up when I tried to tag you. Sometimes your blog will be linked after posted but I don't think you get the notification. You'll have to let me know and I'll change it from bold to normal. Tags have been weird lately. Here's a post I found that could help: WHY OTHERS CAN'T TAG YOUR BLOG

#acewritesfics repost #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders

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spider-jaysart · 7 months

Text

Damian, but 5 years old and actually hanging out with Tim

Happy Thanksgiving btw everyone!!💖🦃

(The Tumblr glitch where posts don't show up in the tags happened again, so I'm reposting it)

(Readable version below the cut, since some parts might be confusing with how kind of messy it was done)

Panel 1:

Damian, pulling onto Tim's hood: Drake! Stop talking to your friends and boyfriend and come play with me!

Tim, facetiming Bernard, Kon, Cassie, and Bart: Ack! Okay, okay! Just give me a minute! I've gotta go now guys!

Panel 2:

Tim: Wait, why do you get to be Batman in this game?

Damian: Because I am

Tim: Well, can I be Nightwing then?

Damian: No

Damian, pulling out his Nightwing plushie: This is Nightwing

Tim: But that's a doll!

Damian: Shush!

Panel 3:

Damian, now in a Nightwing costume: I change my mind! I'm Nightwing!

Tim: Seriously??

Panel 4:

After an hour of playing with eachother:

Damian, hitting Tim as part of the game: Hiyah!

Tim: Ow! What the heck?!

Panel 5:

Tim: That's it! I'm not playing with you anymore! I'm not your punching bag!

Panel 6:

Damian: Fine! Nightwing doesn't need sidekicks anyways! I'll just play with Titus!

Tim: Go ahead then!

Panel 7:

Damian: I will!

Panel 8 and 9:

Tim: Walking away

Damian: Sniff!

Tim: Stops

Panel 10:

Tim: Are you crying?

Damian: No!

Panel 11:

Tim: Hey, I'm sorry. We can keep playing, okay? You just gotta stop hitting me, alright?

Damian: (Sob)

And then the last panel is just Damian and Tim napping together after playing for so long

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fxllfaiiry · 1 year

Text

˚ ༘ 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬 ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: comforting charles after the australian grand prix

warnings: none

notes: I'm so sorry for annoying u guys by reposting this over and over again 😭 but the tags just don't work. also this is apart of the lovers rock series. requested ─ yes

liked by f1_wags1, charles_leclerc and 70,167 others

ynluvrs the only good thing about today is y/n's paddock outfit 🫶

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user12 the gays won today <3

user9 charles liked??

ynandf1_ he gets it

chxrls_f1 someone check on charles please 😭

moonxstars_ bros depressed

snowonthebeach_1 @/yourusername please take care of him

ynsbeloved charles is never beating the depressed and simp allegations

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tagged charles_leclerc

yourusername a good way to cheer up your husband is to show him tiktok edits of himself <3

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charles_leclerc it works pretty well

yourusername glad it does, otherwise I'd have to take ✨extra measures✨

charles_leclerc please don't kill anyone

user7 y/n always feeding us

user98 we all deserve a y/n in our life 😞

user44 when will I get what they have?? 😭

faetay I'm glad they have each other 🥹🫶

vroomvroomig I can feel their love through the screen 😭

user23 u guys were made for each other

#🩹 — my works ⌇ ་ ˖ ˚₊·#praying it shows up this time #charles leclerc #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #f1 #f1 x you #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 social media au #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc drabble

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willowser · 8 months

Text

you had only to look at me—

part one.

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.4k+

tags: nsfw (18+), childhood best friend bakugou, oral (f!receiving), m!masturbation, lots of "first time" talk, more angst, more virgin bakugou.

even before i was touched, i belonged to you; you had only to look at me. — the burning heart, louise glück.

this is a repost.

you and bakugou avoid each other just like you did in middle school, only it's a little too easy this time around.

he's terrible at texting back in general, and because you're not initiating any conversations on your own — or sending funny memes or bringing up all might in some capacity — the radio silence draws ever on and on.

the closest you come to interacting with him is getting a snapchat from his mom, his figure in the background at their kitchen table. all you can see is the floof of his hair and the outline of his shoulders, but you're so bothered by the fact that he's home and didn't tell you that you don't even respond.

it officiates things in a bad way; he's really, actually not speaking to you.

and it's — fucking annoying.

at least in the past the distance was mutually and wordlessly agreed upon; you didn't talk because you were busy or didn't have time or anything new to say, but whenever he's come home — because he so rarely does — bakugou has always made his usual, god-honest attempt to irritate you.

and he still is, but this time he's doing it all wrong.

you go through the five stages of grief rather quickly, jumping from denial to anger overnight. several times, you type out something to text him, each message different than the last:

i know you were at your mom's jackass ☠️

it's really not a big deal and i think we should just forget about it, if that's what you wanna do ?

if i crossed some kind of boundary with you then i'm sorry and i won't say that again so you better call me before i put your baby pictures on the internet. i'm serious.

you're my best friend and i don't think it's weird that it happened. if you're being dumb because you're embarrassed, then don't be because i thought it was really hot

unsurprisingly, you don't send any of these and instead just stew in your own aggravation. lunch with him after the whole thing had been just as empty and awkward, and you think he chose the place near your apartment just so you could walk home and he didn't have to spend another second with you.

three months go by, which isn't long compared to other stints you've spent not talking to one another, but this one drags. like a lot. the only good that comes from it is that you graduate from anger to acceptance, finalizing a future without him in it.

except for the few times he invades your brain like a little parasite, red-faced and shuddering, gripping you like a lifeline, and then your stomach flips so hard that you feel sick and it takes genuine effort to check out of that daydream and back into a bakugou-less reality.

and then he shows up at your apartment, uninvited.

his mom hosts a sunday dinner that you don't go to, for several potential reasons. one would be that you'll have to see bakugou and pretend like nothing's happened even though you're still a little peeved; two is that you'll both ignore each other, and that'll reverse all your progress because he's been ignoring you already.

three is that he might not show up, and then you'll have to pretend that it doesn't bother you all night long.

none of that sounds better than watching trash television and falling asleep on your couch, so you tell mitsuki that you're very sick and very sorry, and that you'll make it up to her later.

because of this, the first thing bakugou says to you after you swing the front door open is, "you're supposed to be fuckin' dead."

suffice to say, you're surprised to see him; still outfitted in his hero costume, mask shoved up his forehead so that his hair is wilder than usual. there's kohl smudged around his eyes, messy, and they look brighter and harsher because of it.

there's also a family-mart plastic bag in his right hand.

"what?"

he just grunts, eyes snapping over your figure, dressed down in a too-large sweater and athletic shorts meant for running even though you've never done so in them.

in his hands — still gloved — the plastic crinkles obnoxiously as he holds it out. "old hag told me to bring this to you."

a can of low sodium soup, two apples, gatorade, and something over-the-counter for nausea. there's something else at the very bottom that you don't get the chance to inspect before he interrupts with his big, fat mouth.

"y'look fine to me, so why the hell didn't you go?"

you frown at him and — don't know what to say. clearly, it seems he's going the pretend-it-never-happened route, which is infuriating because he could just as well have done that months ago. even still, he won't hardly meet your gaze, staring for only a moment before rolling his eyes and huffing, sticking them anywhere else. if you peek close, real close, you'd say his ears are a little red, but maybe you're just looking for — something.

you shrug. "didn't feel like it."

he shakes his head like that's the stupidest thing he's ever heard, eyebrow arched. "why the hell not?"

"because, bakugou, i just didn't feel like going, i don't know what else to tell you." you huff, shrugging again when he doesn't say anything. "thanks for the stuff. is that it?"

his lips twist as he thinks, giving you another once-over before sighing. under his tank-top, you watch how his chest expands, the grimace that ripples over his face as he reaches a hand to lightly feel at his right side. "need your help with somethin'."

now you're just being petulant; you snort, raising your eyebrows as his eyes narrow at the sound. "me? are you joking? you need my help with—"

he groans loud enough to drown you out. "y'gonna let me in or y'just gonna run your mouth?" and so you step aside to wave him in wordlessly.

the backpack on his shoulder dumps to the ground by the door and he strolls into the kitchen like he owns the place, despite the fact that he's never been here before. you've lived in the unit for a year, but meetups are so infrequent and showing it off to him was never considered — until now; watching him shuffle through the bag on the counter, your nerves spike at the reality check.

alone together, again. in your apartment. well after dark.

that image of him is so — invasive, sweeping in at the worst times: between your legs, face as red as his eyes, the little moan he kept trying to swallow. how embarrassed he seemed when you asked if he felt good, if you felt good, and the fact that he still admitted it despite everything.

your entire body blazes like a flame to gasoline, and you try to focus on what else he's taking out of the bag, oblivious.

does he think about it at all? the way you have? at the root of the situation, that's what has been most bothersome: is he grossed out? simply embarrassed? does he feel taken advantage of? did he enjoy it and just doesn't know how to say it? the not knowing is driving you insane.

"i got—" bakugou awkwardly angles his body, gently touching at his side again. in his hands is a simple pack of first-aid supplies, like a wound wash and bandages and medical tape. "need you to change this shit for me."

"oh?" is all you can manage to say, still distracted, and whatever is obvious in your voice has his eyes snapping to you from across the kitchen, adam's apple bobbing. you clear your throat, struggling for normalcy. "the hell did you do?"

he's — going to take his shirt off. clearly, by the way he stretches out his shoulders and then slowly reaches behind himself to grab the material by the back, carefully pulling it up over his head with a low, stinging hiss.

bakugou's always been a lean kid — guy — but pulled so taut like that, after years of working out muscles you didn't even know he had, he looks — stupidly shredded, and the slow reveal of his tight stomach is not helping you to focus.

you just never realized how hot it was, because you never looked at him like that. until recently.

his mask comes off with his shirt and he tosses both onto the kitchen counter — again, as if he pays the bills here — and his hair is a mess and he usually doesn't care, but he runs a hand through it several times before finally looking back at you, eyes outlined in black.

"y'gonna help me or...?" he shrugs, trying to appear impassive — but it's too obvious; something's shifted, for the both of you.

you don't trust your voice anymore, so you just shuffle over to him, frowning at the dirty, worn bandage that's already unsticking from his skin. with his teeth, he pulls off his gloves and it's a wonder why he even wears them, really, because his hands are filthy underneath, covered in soot and black-stained grease.

standing like he is, arm slightly raised, you can see all his sweat, muscles shifting under his skin as he breathes, and his hairy armpit is staring you in the face and you don't know when he stopped being 12 and started being 20 and when he became such a man. it's not fair, that he should suddenly be so — attractive.

"you're disgusting," you tell him — and mean it — and it's met with such hot and irritated surprise that you have to keep talking before he explodes. "you should probably take a shower before putting on a new bandage."

it's road-rash up his right side, still shiny and wet and blood red. still raw. just looking at it is enough to make you cringe.

bakugou huffs, exasperated. "okay, gimme a towel then."

"i didn't mean take a shower here!" you squawk, taking a step back as if to further yourself from the suggestion.

detonation imminent; bakugou curls his hands into fists and the same muffled warning you've been getting your whole life crackles. "okay," he says, voice thin and razor sharp. "you're coming back to mine then?"

your whole life flashes before your eyes — or at least the few minutes it took for him to lose his shit between your legs. "what? no, why would i?"

"i need your help with this, dip-shit!"

"you're saying there's no one else that can—"

"if you want me to fuck off, just say so!"

things go silent, startlingly so. totally still, except for the rising flush across his face, one that you used to read as annoyance but are now translating into something else you never could have expected from him: embarrassment. it's starting to give you whiplash, how much you're discovering despite knowing him all your life.

"closet is at the end of hall," you say in surrender. "bathroom will be on your left."

bakugou mutters a quiet, angry little "jesus" before stalking back to the front door to get his bag, and then he's disappearing into the dark of your apartment.

you slump down on your couch and — struggle. watching the tv and absorbing nothing; it's a rerun anyway. the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry washes over you as the shower spray sounds in the background, followed by a low-timbered swear and the clatter of several bottles against the tub.

it's easy to butt heads with bakugou. you don't think there is any other way to interact with him, really, because he's so argumentative and that used to be okay, but now things are — off. you don't know what he's doing, what he wants, why he's here and in your shower when he could be at home or getting patched up at his agency. all the conclusions you can come to are frightening, a little, and they're hard to fathom; is he — does he want more?

is this just because he's a guy that got some action and is looking for a second round, or is this because it's you?

this stupid situation has only added an unnecessary amount of drama to your life, and you think maybe the pretend-it-never-happened route is the smartest path, even if you can't stop thinking about him and the strength coiled in his biceps, in his shoulders, and how tall he's become and — when did he lose most of the baby fat in his face, and when did he get such a sharp jawline?

how much is he working out, to get his body like that? he used to be a skinny, scrappy little thing and now — he can probably lift a truck over his head. must run all the time, though he's always been active, and you've never looked before, but you wonder how nice his ass is.

what he looks like under the shower, soapy and wet.

furiously, you blink out of your daydream, feeling like a foreign body in your own skin; if someone would have told you only a handful of months ago that you'd be having weird, sensual thoughts about your best friend, you would have laughed so hard you'd cried. or puked.

but if anyone else stands in that picture with him, your heart squeezes painfully. traitorously. already, you've shared so many memories with him; the start of elementary school, learning how to swim, giving each other equally bruised faces, staying up all night to study for important exams, tackling middle school graduation side-by-side, him making himself at home in your first apartment, just as you had done in his.

the devil on your shoulder asks: what's a few more firsts?

it seems like the shower stops in record time, but when you hone back in on the tv, the episode has changed and new drama is settling in. distantly, the rattle of the doorknob is more aggressive than it needs to be and when the echo of a swung-open door trails down the hallway, your heart suspends in your throat. never have you had to think this much just to be around him, and it's bothersome.

clean and relaxed, he's — softer; you spare a quick glance at him when he comes to stand beside the couch, distracted by the show on screen, and his hair is damp, starting to stick out again the more it dries. his muscles aren't made of marble anymore; still there and rippling, but he breathes calmly and his skin is baby smooth, tender. you eye his tummy and the line of fine hair running down into the waistband of his sweats, and do your best to ignore the sudden desire to kiss right above his belly-button.

"since when are they talking again?"

just as he looks at you, your gaze shoots back to the screen, eyes narrowing as you try to rapidly remember what's happening in the day-to-day for stay-at-home, pro-hero wives.

"uh," you blink, distracted — and he notices, "what do you mean? they've been hanging out, like, all season."

bakugou watches the tv in silence, occasionally glancing down to the bandage in his hands as he carefully spreads it out, as he dampens the towel with the antiseptic and dabs at his wounds.

"even after she hit on whatshername's husband?"

"yeah, that was a misunderstanding," you frown at him but he doesn't see it. "remember when they went to that dinner party and all hell broke loose because—"

his flat look serves for a rude interruption. "they go to a lot of fuckin' dinner parties."

"i know, but," you scoff, annoyed, "have you even watched this season?"

bakugou scoffs, mocking and over-dramatic, "yeah, as if i've got all day to sit on my ass and watch your stupid girly—"

"you're watching it right now."

"because you've got it on!" he huffs when you sink into the couch, resolutely trying to ignore him. “start it over then, if you’re gonna cry about it.”

you gape up at him, going as far as to pause the show so that maybe he’ll acknowledge you and all your annoyance; he doesn’t. “start it over? this is, like, episode 26!”

“so? got a hot date or what?”

he’s not at all interested in the answer and that’s obvious when he spins around and holds out the bandage expectantly, staring down at the scrape — glowing red and angry, a mirrored wound you can feel scabbing across your own skin; itchy and irritating.

finally he looks at you properly, frowning softly and — you see him then, can feel the tension lining his body as you carefully tape on his bandage. trying to hide how uncomfortable he is, though you he’s never had to do so with you in all of — forever. it’s nauseating, and again you're struck by the image of him, only now it's of the horror that had been on his face afterwards, at what you’d done.

it pushes everything over the edge; quietly, so that your voice doesn’t expose anything, you say, “you haven’t spoken to me in three months.”

silence weighs in the air immediately, heavy, and you watch him try to appear unbothered, shrugging as he stares back at the unmoving tv, jaw tight. “phone works both ways.”

“yeah, but,” your hands drop as he steps away to pull on a loose shirt, and you curl your fists into your own. just as he has. “i’m always the one having to reach out—”

“so why didn’t you?”

“what?” frustrated, you massage your temples, trying to soothe the nuclear headache threatening to incinerate you. “are you seriously trying to—”

“what’s the big deal?” he huffs, slumping down into the far corner of the couch before cringing, swearing as he gently touches at his bandage. “you’ve gone longer than that without talkin’ to me, so…”

the tone of his voice is infuriating, as if this is somehow all your fault — and maybe it is, because you shouldn’t have crossed such a boundary with him, but — he can be such a dick.

“it’s not just me bakugou, you could have just as easily picked up the phone, too!” your teeth grind when he shrugs again, leaning his head against his fist as he looks anywhere else. it almost looks like guilt that's dragging his expression down, but you know better than to assume he could feel such a thing. “you always—”

“jesus, if i always do this—”

“shut up for a second, damn!” and then because you can’t stand the stupid look on his face, you kick him in the thigh for good measure; it garners a warning glare, his teeth bared.

he easily catches you by the ankle when you try to kick him again. "tell me what the big fuckin' deal is."

"the big deal? oh, you mean besides the fact that you totally came in your pants?"

it stuns him for a second, eyes wide and face pale, before he's yanking you across the couch, narrowly avoiding the knee aimed for his gut. "you—fucking—!" a smack lands across the back of his head when he ducks and he plants a heavy hand over your face, forcing you to close your eyes and turn away.

"you're gonna blow my head off!"

"if i wanted you dead, you—" he intercepts the hand you blindly reach up with, crossing it awkwardly over your chest so that you're pinned down like a wild animal. "you would be!"

"kiss my ass, katsuki." you snark, and it does something to him, your use of his first name, because he's still for a moment before sitting back and collecting your wrists correctly, to hold against the couch arm above your head.

"you're such a fucking—" he swoops in so low that his nose almost brushes yours and he grabs the front of your sweater with his free hand, like he's gonna shake you down for some lunch money. "fuck, i could just—" and then he groans long and loud, so annoyed he can't find the words.

"yeah, well—"

"shut up," he lightly knocks his forehead into your cheekbone with another dissatisfied sound, letting out a heavy sigh as he sinks his face down into your neck.

all your muscles tighten on instinct, waiting for the sharp bite that's due any second — but his fingers only uncurl from the material of your sweater, slowly slipping around to tangle into the hair at the nape of your neck. his pull there is a little tight, enough for you to know he's got you, but not so much that you're head is aching; you can't imagine you have a sensitive scalp, anyway, after growing up around him.

you want to say something — which is an annoying realization because now you feel like too much of a talker — but you just focus on the heave of his chest over yours, the breath that moves through him. the minute jostle of his hips as he settles further into the space between your legs, almost comfortable. the slight swell of something unfamiliar against your inner thigh.

bakugou presses his face a little further into you, warm, and the tip of his nose drags along the column of your throat. successfully sedating you, distracted by the feel of his parted lips against your skin.

your body is hot all over, very suddenly; the sweater now feels like a death trap and hopefully you don't smell weird, though it's never been a worry before, not around him, and your adrenaline is rushing and you're kinda tired of acting like you don't know why that is.

fuck pretend-it-never-happened. it's been a long three months.

he's almost entirely pressed against you, but there is a small gap of space that closes when you open your legs a little wider, hitching them around his waist as his breath stutters against your neck.

it's happened so quick, so effortlessly yet again; you give a purposeful roll of your hips upward and are lost in him all over.

only — it's different than it was before because straddling his lap hadn't done much for you, but now the weighted outline of him is right against your center and the pressure that drags across you sends tingles up your spine and has your toes curling in your socks. when you let out a tiny gasp at the stomach-flipping sensation, tension coils in every curve of his body and the grip around your wrists and in your hair only tightens.

you can't help it; you let out a "katsuki" in the same heady tone as you did in his apartment and it has him falling easily into the slow grind you've been unable to stop thinking about. what shifts across his face is obvious, against your throat, like the scrunch of his brow and the slow drop of his mouth. he tries to muffle his breathy "oh" into your skin, but it echoes throughout your entire body, has an ache beginning between your thighs that he's already soothing.

the nip comes then, teeth sinking gently into your neck as you weakly cry out in surprise, but it's only for a moment before his tongue — wet and heavy and wide — is tasting over your jugular, lips closing around your skin as he sucks experimentally. you let out a proper moan then, squirming against his hands and up into him so that the pressure doubles for the both of you.

katsuki finally relinquishes your wrists, carding his hand down your body before coming to squeeze your hip, your thigh, locking your leg tight around his waist. "yeah," he rasps, voice deeper than you've ever heard it as he presses his forehead into yours. "how do you fuckin' like it?"

being bitten, he means, vengefully, but you're spread open beneath him and he's rutting the hard length of himself against you roughly, eagerly, and panting open-mouthed and you tighten up at the aggression in his tone and in his hands and his very being and —

"fuck," you gasp, loud and wanton, "fuck, katsuki—"

and then you are kissing your best friend.

the boy from down the street that always ruined your hair and taught you where to place your thumb if you were gonna throw a punch. that used his empty pen cartridge to blow spitballs at you and mocked you for losing crane games, even though he ended up giving you the stupid stuffed animal anyway. that had to be king of the castle, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield. that demanded you be his queen, weeds he picked for you woven carefully into your hair by his hands.

katsuki kisses like he's shy — another term you've never thought of in relation to him and all his fire and brimstone; it's slow and a little delayed in comparison to what his hips are doing, as if he's in his head too much and is trying to figure how to move his lips and when. tentative and chaste, until you run your tongue along the seam of his mouth and pry him open a little more.

it's making you hungry; that possessiveness from before is creeping back in, eager to have him in ways nobody else has. you arch into him, biting at his lips and sighing into his mouth as goosebumps break out across his skin.

with a slant of his head, he deepens the kiss and you can feel his nostrils flaring, the fingernails scratching against your scalp, the bruises he's probably leaving on your thigh. he lets up only to breathe, panting into your ear when he begins to bite and suck on your skin again; your earlobe and neck and even the cut of your jaw. like maybe he's hungry, too.

you fist a hand into his shirt just to tug it up his body, feeling the strong contract of his stomach when your fingers ghost against him. katsuki gets the hint quickly, rising up to his knees to tear the material off — much more harshly than he did before, which has you eying his crinkled bandage — and you move fast to take advantage of the new space.

it gives him pause when you yank down your shorts, pulling your legs back to slip them off and fling them somewhere across the room. his face goes red again, and his heaving chest, too, and his eyelids flutter as he takes in the sight of your flimsy, damp cotton underwear. you start to pull the sweater up your stomach, but he's watching so intently — so ravenous — that you get shy, without a bra underneath the too-hot fabric.

in any other situation, katsuki would have grabbed onto this moment, your hesitation, and held it over your head to come back and poke at. cataloged this little weak spot for future arguments, but now —

not once has he ever been gentle with you in anything; it's enough of a surprise that that's even a possibility for him, for the two of you, but he presses his body back into yours and kisses you deep, calloused fingers tracing over the new skin exposed to him. he doesn't try to push the sweater up any further, but one hand slips up your back, to splay between your shoulder-blades like it had before, and he's so close and you've never known him to be this — careful. with anything.

"y'r so—" katsuki rolls his hips again and groans, whispering against your lips. "fuckin' soft."

his sweatpants are still on and you don't know why, but when you reach down to help tug them off, he grabs your wrist before they can go too far.

he presses the heat from his cheeks into your own, like he wants to share it. "you done this before?"

"have you?"

he frowns at your non-answer. "i asked first."

you have. three times, technically, though a phantom pain echoes in your stomach at the memories, and you feel an odd emptiness in your chest that makes you really glad to have the sweater still on. your answer leaves you a little ashamed, under his gaze, and you purposely turn from it. "would...that bother you?"

before, you wouldn't have cared, didn't care, nor were you even thinking of him when it happened. wherever he must have been; u.a, probably, getting ready to make his lifelong dreams a reality while you trusted a boy that didn't look at you the way katsuki is now. that didn't hold you and touch you and kiss you the way your best friend has.

he scoffs, though it doesn't sound as careless as it usually does and he squeezes his eyes shut so you can't read them. the truth that's hidden there. "no," he lies, "why would—" but he doesn't finish, just sighs.

"it was awful anyway," you tell him, offering a small smile when he peeks down at you. he doesn't say anything, so you kiss him once, twice, until his tension is melting away. "should have been you."

the grip on your thigh turns almost painful and he grinds into you so roughly that you both gasp, loud in the tight, barely-there space between you. "yeah," he rasps, sucking another bruise into the hollow of your throat. "fuckin' should have."

you try to imagine it; eighteen and nervous, naked in front of him for the first time since you were seven and got into paint from his mom's workshop, when she made you both strip down in the same room, furious. how different he might have been with you then, how much more unsure. kinder than your ex, without a doubt, even for katsuki, and he probably wouldn't have even gone through with the whole thing, considering how uncomfortable the first time is.

or maybe it wouldn't have been, with him; maybe he would have looked into it, taken the time to wind you up the same way he is now so that you were eager and wet and ready. looking down at you with his wide, almost-black eyes in the dim light of a table lamp. another first to share.

"if i'd have just," he huffs, allowing his sweats to slip down past his hips. shoulders trembling when he makes you moan out his name again. "fuckin'—grown a pair 'n told you—"

the weight of him becomes more obvious, the straining bulge he's rocking into your core, and seeing it is — really getting to you; wearing such tight boxers, you can tell just how close the pink tip of him is to his waistband, nearly peeking out from just how hard he is.

it takes a shrug to get him out of your shoulder, so you can press your lips back to his. "can still be you, katsuki," you breathe, biting on his bottom lip until his tiny frown is gone. "if you want, it can still be you."

for a minute, he indulges himself in the greedy kiss you're giving him, testing strokes of his tongue against your own as his hips stutter out of rhythm — but it's when your fingers brush through the hair at the base of his stomach, trying to slip a hand into his boxers, that he's gasping into your mouth and pushing his body up and away.

determination settles over his face then — along with his vibrant flush — and he doesn't say anything as he grabs you like it's nothing and scoots you up the couch so that your back is pressed to the arm, propped up. once he settles between your thighs, he just rests his face into the plush of your stomach — which is humiliating and has you squirming, but the firmness returns to his hands; holding your hips so that you'll still, so that he can kiss right above your belly button, just as you wanted to do to him.

heat flares in your own cheeks — and down your chest and in your ears and searing on the back of your neck — when you feel the first puff of his warm breath against your underwear, where you're sensitive and slick and aching.

this is completely new to you; your ex-boyfriend probably never considered tasting you here, certainly not with the same desire that's painted across katsuki's face. you have to slap your hands over your eyes and bite your lip, embarrassed, suddenly, at how desperate the simple press of his mouth to your underwear makes you.

"hey, hey," katsuki grunts, pinching at your hips until you peek at him through your fingers. the highlights of his cheeks are crimson and his eyes are black, glaring with an intensity that makes you shiver. "it's my fuckin' turn."

to make you fall apart, he means, just as he had.

at the first hot drag of his tongue against the material, you squirm, leaning your head back so that your expression is hidden. another grunt comes from him, you think in dissatisfaction, but he continues, laving until your mouth is falling open and the fabric between you is drenched.

he's gone just long enough to be replaced by the ghost of his thumb, touching you much too-gently. hunger has you stealing another look at him, watching behind your hands as he stares, blatantly, at the mess he's already made of you, stroking the pad of his finger against the sodden material in interest.

discovering; a curious swipe over where you're aching has you sighing and trembling and his eyes jump back up to your covered face, open mouth curling into the faintest smirk as he does it again and again and again. it's bullshit — how quickly he's figured you out, almost as if your body was meant to be unraveled by his hands — but then again, it didn't take you long either, did it?

"katsuki," you hiss, digging a hand into the hair at the crown of his head, tugging on it until his smile is dropping and his eyes are lidding. your body is on fire and your legs are trying to close around his head, hips squirming as he toys with you, like the little brat he is.

deadly serious, he grabs your underwear and holds it tightly in his fist so that you can wiggle one leg free, and then he's tugging it out of his way and devouring you whole.

it's sloppy, the mixture of spit and slick as runs his tongue through you, wet and wide, and you're so sensitive that you squeak out in surprise, fingers tightening. a groan punches from deep in his chest and your hips buck at the vibration of it, drawn so tight already.

"oh my—" you gasp, dropping your other hand from your face to grip the couch; eyes closed, you're somewhere else entirely, lost in the clumsy swirl of pleasure between your thighs.

katsuki raises his head to breathe, reaffirming your grip in his hair by wrapping his fingers tight over your own. at the shiny sight of his mouth, you can't help but to whimper with a needy roll of your hips, until he's simply sticking out his tongue and allowing you to ride it, to use it as you need to. it's embarrassing, how desperate you are, but his eyes are knife-sharp and trained on you and you've never experienced anything like this.

he moves then, slipping one hand further up under your sweater, cupping your breast carefully as his lids flutter — and the other is shoved between his hips and where they're pressed into the couch. you tighten up at just the idea of him rutting into his hand while kissing your messy slit, moaning openly, head falling back as your eyes start to roll.

this is — fuck — you've never been so turned on in all your life and it's driving you crazy; at one point in time, the thought of bakugou like this would have grossed you out, but now you think it's only like this because of him. anyone else wasn't right, not the way he is, and he's maybe a little impatient and unwieldy, but it's katsuki. between your legs with his mouth on you — something he wanted — and his fingers are brushing over your nipple and the other is down his pants, wrist flexing and —

"fuck, oh fuck, i—" you try to sit up, chasing blindly after the high, but he forces you back down. a long groan is muffled by your skin and when he lifts his chin just a little, a glob of spit falls off his lips and the sight makes your toes curl before he presses back into you and sucks.

everything goes blank as you free-fall into him and you cum quietly, muscles so taut in your body that your voice can't even squeeze out of your throat. the minute you're able to breathe, he's biting a mark into your thigh and yanking you back down under him, lips slick against yours.

tasting yourself on his tongue has you coming out of the heady haze, ravenous; katsuki helps you to shove his boxers down, though he can only gasp tightly when he grinds against you, coating himself.

"'m not—" his soft hair tickles your face when he shakes his head, arms trembling beside your head. "i won't be able to—"

"keep going," you breathe, smearing your mess over the tip of him and down his length as he groans. "i don't care, keep going."

he smashes his lips to yours, though he's only able to meet the pump of your hand a few times before dropping his forehead to your shoulder, spine curling, fingers digging into your hair. katsuki swears long and low, eventually letting out a soft sound you wouldn't have expected from him as his entire body tenses and he spills onto your stomach.

"goddamn it," he moans into the fabric of your sweater, weary, after a long moment. "now 'm fuckin' tired."

and for some reason that makes you laugh, though the lust is dissipating and your nerves are trembling at the memory of how this ended last time. katsuki pulls away suddenly, making your stomach drop, and he doesn't look at you as he detangles himself, awkwardly shuffling away from the couch and out of sight.

you frown down at the mess on your stomach, the way it's pooling in your belly-button — and you'll be damned to let him leave you like this, but just as you finishing reciting over and over what you want to say, he appears, towel in hand.

it's still damp from his shower and you tense on instinct, waiting for him to start twirling it with that stupid grin on his face, but katsuki only arranges your legs so that he can sit between them, carefully wiping you off as his cheeks burn. and you just watch him, the way he runs a hand over your skin to make sure he got it all before helping to finagle your underwear back on properly.

then he just looks at the tv, unmoving. if he's trying to appear casual at all, it's a piss-poor job — but he's never been able to keep his fat mouth shut for long.

the look he gives you lacks its usual heat, though you can't tell if that's just because he's drained or if he's withdrawn for another reason. "what now? six months, a year before you talk to me again?"

and you're annoyed all over again.

"what?" you return his weak glare, sitting up properly so that you're right in his face. "are you kidding me? you didn't talk to me either."

"the hell did you want me to say?" he scoffs and — you could slap him, for ruining everything so quickly. wipe that stupid look off his face with your fist. "'sorry i busted a nut, you free for dinner?'"

"yeah!" the shrill tone of your voice makes his eyes widen, and you throw your hands up in the air, incensed. "that sounds wonderful in comparison to coming home and avoiding me."

"i didn't avoid you," he mutters, though his eyes drift back to the tv. "just didn't have shit to say."

"bakugou," you slap your hands over your face for the second time, though this one is much worse than the last. "how is that fucking fair? what did you want me to say?"

and now — his eyes are full and furious, mouth curling down into an ugly frown that you've so rarely had the pleasure of seeing on his face; every time his mother made you go home and when you told him you weren't gonna try to test into u.a. when he overheard your girl friends teasing you for liking an older boy in your school.

when he was losing you, you realize.

"'m not doin' this shit with you," he mutters, definitive, before swiping his shirt up off the floor and standing. "not doin' this bakugou shit."

"oh my god," you groan, rising, too, because your stomach is twisting at the thought of him leaving again, no matter how angry he's making you. "what does that even mean?"

you trail him as he stomps into your kitchen to grab his work shirt and mask from the counter, trying to interrupt him at every turn, and the scowl on his face only grows when you shoot to stand in front of the door, just as he reaches for his bag.

"you can't—"

"this," he seethes, gesturing to you and then himself before gritting his teeth so hard that they should shatter. "this is why i didn't wanna fuckin' talk to you."

you knew he didn't. the minute lunch ended and when you made out his shape in mitsuki's snapchat: you knew. but hearing it from his mouth is as much of a confirmation as it is a kick in the gut.

there's more he's struggling to say, mouth shifting as he chews on the words and the skin of his lips. his gaze jumps from you to the door to something on the counter before he's swallowing again, staring down at you with brand new eyes.

the light in the kitchen makes them shine, angry and sad. "i can't—" he sighs, nostrils flaring like he's mad at himself for struggling. "go back to bakugou, not after—" a vague hand waves toward the couch. "maybe this is just, i don't know, whatever to you, but i — fuckin' can't."

tell me what the big fuckin' deal is; earlier, he'd demanded it of you, why the silence mattered so much this time when it didn't seem to matter before. in the midst of your anger, you didn't think twice about his wording but now —

he wanted you to say it. katsuki wanted to hear you say that it hurt to be without him for so long, and he kept his distance because he was afraid that you wouldn't.

"you're so stupid," you mutter it quietly, and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, enraged, but before he can get another dumb word out, you loop your arms around his neck and just — kiss him.

not crazy or wild or lust-driven, just your lips to his, slowly working him out of the shell he's tried to hide behind.

the bag in his hand hits the ground with a soft thud and then his arm is wrapping around your back, tugging you to him as he finally breathes and opens his mouth — and lets you in.

when you cup the sides of his neck, katsuki inhales sharply through his nose, pulse jumping under your fingers, and his lashes flutter against your cheeks as he opens his eyes. he pulls back enough so that you can stare at each other and you realize that eyeliner is still clinging to his lids, making him seem sharper than usual.

you're a little stunned, then, at how beautiful he is.

"i can't go back to bakugou either, dumbass." gently, you knock your forehead into his, smiling at the pout on his face. "you've totally screwed that up for me."

"yeah, well," he huffs, "about time. only took you all my goddamn life."

"sorry i'm late."

"what else is new?" he rolls his eyes and you squeak, indignant, before sticking your tongue out at him, patience worn thin already.

you expect a bite or a pinch to the cheek or another rough violence that falls along the lines that have made up your relationship thus far — but instead there is only something soft that reflects in his eyes and the shy kiss he presses to your lips, something that he's kept safe just for you, guarded, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield.

#narrator voice: willow did not have the spoons to extend the ending #whoopsie #okie okie part 2 #✿ willow writes #✿ one shot: bakugou

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cooliestghouliest · 6 months

Text

PUTTY, chapter one

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: Eddie has a little brother. Eddie’s little brother has a babysitter.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. fun fact that this was one of the first Stranger Things fanfics i ever wrote. it was originally titled She Was Straight From Hell, But You Could Never Tell, and featured Eddie alongside an OC. i’ve changed it to be reader-insert, because that seems to be more in my writing wheelhouse nowadays. this fic will be multiple parts — it begins with backstory, but will eventually branch off into a universe of little smutty ficlets where Reader will corrupt virgin!Eddie as much as humanely possible.

—

Eddie hadn't known about the existence of his little brother until two months ago, when Al Munson showed up in the middle of the night with a small child in tow. Eddie didn't even know his dad was out of prison again, and yet here he was, in the flesh, a little boy with a mop of black curls resembling Eddie's own cradled in his leather jacket-clad arms.

Al was lucky Wayne was working or else this family reunion would have gone south fast.

While Wayne wasn't Al's biggest fan, Al was Eddie's dad, and Eddie would always hold onto as many moments with his father as he could get, no matter how sparse, and no matter how much of a self-serving piece of shit asshole Al Munson truly was.

But Eddie didn’t see it like that. Eddie saw it like this: His dad lived a hard life. His dad struggled with addictions. His dad lost a wife, just as Eddie had lost a mother. His dad tried his best with what he had.

Deep down, Eddie knew these were all just sorry excuses, but he kept that truth tucked away, not wanting to deal with the reality that Al truly only cared about himself.

He already had one dead parent. If he cut his dad out of his life, he’d basically have two.

"When'd you get out?" Eddie asked, stepping aside so Al could enter. His eyes followed the child, brows furrowed. The trailer was always Al's first stop on his freedom tour and the older man had always brought some sort of baggage along with him -- never a little kid, though. What the hell kind of trouble had his dad gotten into this time?

"Few days ago," Al replied, heading for the living room. He placed the sleeping child down on the worn sofa, then straightened and faced Eddie. "Listen, son, you gotta do me a favor. I'm not out long this time. I might've robbed an ATM or two last night. I'm kinda on the lam."

Al didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish at his wrongdoing.

Eddie was used to this. Even when Al was a free man, he was never a free man for long. He didn't think his dad knew how to coexist among non-inmate citizens. Eddie didn't think his dad even wanted to. Prison was a creature comfort for the elder Munson. Eddie wasn't necessarily mad at that fact. He was happy when Al was locked up, because then at least he knew where his dad was. Otherwise, Eddie worried his father would eventually get himself into a situation he wouldn't be able to get out of, and Eddie would really never see him again.

Eddie was also used to Al showing up after months and months, sometimes even years and years, such as now, always asking for favors.

"Who is that?" Eddie asked, pointing towards the couch, not being able to ignore the other human in the room any longer.

"Yeah, that's kinda what I need your help with.” Al rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, no way to do this other than to just say it. That there's your little brother, Eddie. His name's Oliver. And I need you and Wayne to look after him while I'm gone."

"My... what..." Eddie stammered, face scrunching up. He expected Al to burst out laughing and admit he was just fucking around, and that this tiny sleeping stranger was actually just the kid of a fellow convict buddy. Maybe it was said convict buddy’s turn to rob ATMs tonight, leaving Al the babysitter. Irresponsible. Unlikely. And, turns out, untrue.

With Al's silence, Eddie knew his dad’s admission wasn't a joke.

Eddie was beyond confused now.

"Dad, how... you've been in prison for six years!"

"Conjugal visits," Al answered with a bit of a smug shrug.

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "What the fuck? Wayne can't afford another kid that's not even his... and I'm in school still, I can't watch him... this isn't... I don't know how..."

But Al was already making his way to the door.

"I know you'll figure it out. I can always count on you, my boy," Al prided, tone cheery as if the favor he'd just asked of Eddie was to give him a quick ride somewhere or find an old family recipe.

Al wasn't acting like he was ditching another Munson offspring off on his older brother. He was treating this like an issue of minor importance, just a little speed bump on an otherwise flat road.

Al Munson was not an upstanding person. Never had been, never would be. Because of this, Eddie shouldn't have been surprised or appalled, but here he was, standing with his mouth agape. Surprised. Appalled.

His dad was out the door with a lighthearted, "See ya 'round, son," and Eddie was left speechless in the middle of the living room.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne got over the new addition to the Munson household fairly quickly.

While he'd been livid at first, calling up all of Al's old friends he'd still had the numbers of to try and find out where his dumb shit of a younger brother was, Wayne eventually became resigned to the idea that he now had another little boy to rear and mold.

What else could he do?

Wayne took care of his kin, especially if they were innocent bystanders and had no say in being born in the first place. He'd raised Eddie, and although he knew the boy had his struggles, he didn't think he'd done too bad of a job.

Eddie never went hungry, always had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, and Wayne was the one who haggled Eddie's van down to a reasonable price so the boy could pay for it with his lunch box salary.

Wayne knew about the weed and the pills, but so long as Eddie stayed smart about where he was selling and who he was selling to, he didn't much mind Eddie's unconventional line of work. It helped his nephew stay somewhat social, and Wayne knew how important that would be for Eddie's future. If the boy was nothing but a lone recluse his whole life, he'd probably end up just like Al. Nobody wanted that.

Eddie was just about grown now. Sure, he was rearing twenty and still in his senior year of high school, but Wayne had an inkling that '86 would be Eddie's year.

Wayne had always thought about selling the trailer and buying an RV with retirement money once Eddie was out on his own. He wanted to travel the country for the remainder of his life.

The idea that he'd have to raise up another wild Munson for the next fifteen or so years caused a knot to form in his stomach.

Would Wayne even be around for that much longer? He may have been relatively healthy, and he was only in his mid 60's, but Wayne wasn't an idiot. He knew anything could happen at any time.

Wayne knew he needed help this time around. He figured he could count on Eddie here and there, but Eddie needed to focus on school this year if he planned on finally walking the stage. Because of this, Wayne decided to enlist the help of someone on the outside. Someone with experience.

So, he posted an ad in the Hawkins Post, looking for a full-time nanny for a five-year-old boy to start as soon as possible, and waited for a response.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne didn't have to wait long.

Two mornings following the job post, shortly after he'd returned home from work, he heard a knock on the trailer door.

When he answered, he saw a pretty young thing standing on the front stoop.

"Hi!" you greeted, then immediately began to ramble. "Are you Mr. Munson? I hope it's okay I just showed up... there wasn't a number listed, only an address, and I didn't know if you wanted me to write a response and mail it, but the ad seemed maybe a little urgent, so I thought, hey, what's the harm in just... showing... up..."

You trailed off, feeling silly for word vomiting during your first impression. He was watching you with a small smile, eyes flickering with what looked like amusement, especially as your cheeks began to color to the soft red of embarrassment.

Listing no number on the ad was intentional. He hadn't owned a rotary phone in about ten years, after having tried to cut back on bills, and he knew not just anyone would make the trek to Forest Hills for a potential job offer. He’d figured only committed applicants that wouldn't waste his time would follow through.

"I have a lot of experience," you continued on at his silence, almost as if you couldn't help it, compelled to divulge all the information you could in the first three minutes of meeting. Wayne found it endearing. "I used to babysit for three different families when I was in high school. And I have two little sisters. My mom and dad worked a lot growing up, so I spent a lot of time with them. Didn't get paid, but... I made sure they didn't die or anything..."

From their brief interaction thus far, Wayne knew he succeeded in his method of weeding out flakes. You were obviously serious about the position. He felt he was a decent judge of character, and he'd learned in life that sometimes over-explaining was synonymous with caring.

"Sorry," you said, forcing out a little laugh. "I guess I could have just introduced myself. You didn't really need to know all that." You shot your hand out, giving your name. "I'm here about the nannying gig. Um, obviously. That is, if I didn't already scare you off."

Wayne took your hand in both of his own, shaking it. He placated you with a grin. "It's a lot harder than that to scare off a Munson, sweetheart. Let's go inside and meet Olly."

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Although Oliver Munson was only five, he had a spectacular vocabulary and a limitless imagination. Wayne knew the boy was a little charmer, quite like how Eddie was when he allowed himself to be, when the teenager wasn't drowning himself in existential teenage angst and nonsense.

You fell under Olly's spell almost instantly.

And it seemed the little boy had fallen under yours as well.

Oliver didn't stop talking to you while you were there, and didn't stop talking about you after you’d left, asking when you’d be back and if next time you could take him to the trailer park's playground and maybe you two could watch G.I. Joe or He-Man together afterward.

Wayne had taken your number down before you’d left and had told you he'd be in touch soon.

Later that evening, after Eddie had gotten back from his club meeting at school, Wayne took the trip into downtown Hawkins to use the payphone and ask you if you wouldn't mind starting as early as tomorrow.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You were far from struggling for money.

Your father was a sought-after criminal prosecutor for the entirety of Indiana. Your mother was a real estate agent for high profile clientele who came from old family money; her father was CEO of a day trading business, and his father before him had been the same.

Although you likely would have never had to work a day in your life and could live a comfortable existence off of inheritance alone, handouts and the humdrum of an All-Play-and-No-Work lifestyle was never a dream of yours. That sounded so cookie cutter, so monotonous, so boring.

You liked to feel a sense of accomplishment. You liked setting goals and reaching them. You didn't want to freeload off of money that was gained from the capitalistic professions your parents were a part of. You wanted to be in control of your own finances and be the author of your own future, not have it already be etched into stone simply by being just another rich kid from Hawkins, à la the likes of the Carver's or the Cunningham's or the Harrington's.

You were ecstatic when you got the call from Wayne, asking you if you’d be willing to start the following day. He left for work at 2PM, so you’d have to be there before then, and would need to plan on staying until Wayne's nephew got home around six.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you felt a bit nervous, but the job itself wasn't the reason why that writhing feeling accompanied your excitement.

You had more than ten years of babysitting experience under your belt, and you were eager to get back into a job you actually enjoyed as opposed to trying out different careers to see what stuck and what didn't. Having graduated the spring before, you’d been taking an off year to save up money by working odd jobs around Hawkins to be able to buy your own apartment.

You’d worked as a florist for a few weeks, but it turned out your thumb was pitch black instead of green.

You worked as the personal assistant for a group of lawyers from a local law firm, but it turned out they just needed office eye candy and not someone to actually get any sort of work done.

You worked as a veterinary assistant, but it turned out the job was much more than just petting cats and dogs. You couldn't handle it when a sick animal would come in and there would be nothing anyone could do. Your heart broke more at that clinic than it had your entire life.

You were in between jobs when you’d decided to peruse the classified section of the Hawkins post. There, in the shortest blurb on the page, was a listing for a needed nanny, a full-time position offering negotiable pay.

The next bit was where the excitement wavered.

The listing was published by a Wayne Munson of the Forest Hills trailer park.

That had to be Eddie Munson's uncle. There was no way there were two separate Munson families living in the only trailer park in Kerley County.

You couldn't believe that you’d stumbled across this ad, that the geeky metalhead you’d crushed on since your freshman year of high school had a little brother you could be the potential nanny of.

You were two years younger than Eddie, but that hadn't stopped you from losing periods of time to daydreams about the way the wind ruffled his wild mess of curls on breezy days or the way his band tee sleeves always clung perfectly to the soft muscles of his biceps or the way his cheeks dimpled when he teased the other boys he sat with at lunch.

You’d always wanted to introduce yourself, but you didn't run in the same crowds -- you being on the cheer team and Eddie blasting Black Sabbath in the parking lot after his Hellfire meetings. You could never muster the courage. He seemed so carefree, so full of life, so effortlessly funny. Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend, had spoken to him once or twice and had told you how different he was than what other people said about him. He wasn't scary or mean or threatening, and instead was warm and silly and genuine.

But you knew how the people you spent your time around treated people like him. You knew your group of "friends" referred to him as a freak, a Satan worshipper, and did everything in their power to try to bully him into becoming a shell of himself. Thankfully, he never did -- it was almost as if Eddie absorbed the hatefulness and spent it tenfold by mocking the hilarity of the jock hierarchy that ruled the school, as well as using it to strengthen his own ability to embrace every misfit that walked the halls of Hawkins High.

You never introduced yourself because you were afraid he’d think you had an ulterior motive, that you’d be trying to talk to him as a joke or a prank. You knew the company you kept. You were sure Jason Carver had once or twice suggested you do just that, lead Eddie on and make a fool of him in front of the whole school.

You figured it'd be best to just stay away.

But now, you thought finding this ad was possibly a sign from the universe.

Maybe you were getting a second chance.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie was running late.

He was supposed to be back home half an hour ago to relieve whoever Olly's new babysitter was of her duties, but the campaign had taken a shocking turn and Hellfire couldn't disband until it had commenced.

The night finally ended with Will's character decapitating Dustin's, and Eddie had to thwart an actual attack when Dustin leapt across the game table at Will in a bout of rage. Dustin was small but mighty, and Eddie had to physically wrestle the boy off of Will's neck, threatening to banish Dustin from the next few campaigns if he didn’t chill out. Henderson had huffed and puffed but had admitted defeat and apologized to Will for the attempted murder.

By the time Eddie arrived back to the trailer park, the sun had almost set. He pulled his van into his parking spot to the right of the trailer and shut it off. Stepping out, he swung his backpack over his shoulder, but came to a halt when he heard Olly's scream sound from behind the trailer.

Dropping his bag and beginning to run toward the noise, Eddie's heart fell to his stomach. Horrible images of what could possibly be pulling that sound from his little brother pervaded Eddie's mind. He had an overactive imagination to begin with, and something like this verbal cue only egged it on. "Olly!" he shouted, panic raising his voice. "Olly, are you okay?! What’s going on, where are --"

Eddie came to a halt when he found the boy in the backyard with a huge smile spread across his small, sweaty face. Olly had a fake crown on, one made of twigs and leaves, and he was carrying one of the biggest sticks Eddie had ever seen. He had a blanket tucked into the back of his shirt, the cloth a makeshift cape. A thin piece of metal, probably from one of the cars Wayne and Eddie sometimes worked on, was wrapped around his center, acting as armor.

Olly had just been playing.

Letting out a heavy breath of relief, Eddie noticed your frame just off to the side. His eyes started from the ground up, noting the shiny red Docs donning your feet, moving up bare legs that were covered mid-thigh by a short black skater dress, one that hugged your curves in a way that had Eddie’s mouth going dry.

By the time he reached your face, your eyes were wide with amusement.

You’d been watching as he slowly drank you in. He didn't mean to ogle. He had to shake his head a few times to clear it, and when he did so, the face before him started looking more and more familiar.

"Wait," he started, head tilting. He spoke your name, tone riddled with confusion. "From high school?"

You were about to answer when Oliver cleared his throat, obviously not wanting to be ignored or to have his playtime interrupted any longer. You looked down at the boy, who pointed up to his head at his crown. You got the gist -- Olly wanted the game to continue. You could indulge him. You’d been doing it all day, and honestly you’d been having the most fun you’d had in a while.

You turned your attention back to Eddie, fixing your posture and jutting your chin out slightly. "I don't know who that is," you began, voice lilting. "I am Princess Guinevere of Kerley County and this here,” you brought your gaze back down to Oliver, “is my most loyal servant, Sir Olly of Castle Munson."

Eddie couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face at your announcement. He then took a moment to fully take in the rest of your appearance. You, too, had on a makeshift crown, this one made up of cherry blossoms and daisies. You had a flowing blanket tucked into the back of your dress, cascading down your back like a veil.

No fucking way were you, last year's cheerleading captain and prom queen, standing in his backyard playing fucking knights and princesses with his little brother. No fucking way.

Olly broke the silence by shouting out, "Hey, Eddie! Who are you gonna be?"

Eddie tore his eyes from you to focus on his brother. He pursed his lips to one side in thought, trying to come up with a character. He was usually quick on his feet when it came to creative play, but he had just spent the last three hours DM'ing a month-long DnD campaign. His brain felt shot. He was pulled from his introspective reverie by your soft, suggestive voice — no, sorry — the soft, suggestive voice of Princess Guinevere.

"Wanna be my dragon, Eddie?" you asked.

Eddie wasn't exactly sure why that made his breath catch in his throat.

He nodded dumbly, silent, then forced himself to speak because he didn't want to look totally lame in front of a Princess. "Okay. Yeah, I'll be your dragon."

You graced him with a smile before Oliver's tiny but booming voice cut through the air of the darkening night. "HEY! Dragons don't talk!" the boy stomped his foot and hit his stick against the muddy ground in annoyance.

A laugh bubbled from your throat and Eddie grinned, jumping into a wide-legged stance before outstretching his arms, tilting his head back, and roaring.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #stranger things

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surielstea · 2 months

Text

Sunshine in the Shade

Based on this request

Pairing: Azriel x DayCourt! Reader

Summary: Reader can't stay in the night court for long when she's bound to day. Azriel and her have to share a goodbye.

Warnings: minimal angst but mostly fluff

A/N: sorry this took me so long to get out, I was struggling figuring out the concept of the original req, I'm still not very happy with it but I hope you guys enjoy nonetheless :) p.s I had to repost cuz my tags weren’t working, sorry if you were notified twice lol.

2.9k words

"That's a lie!" I throw a piece of popcorn at a giggling Morrigan. "Nuh-uh," She shakes her head with a big grin. "I'm The Morrigan I only speak the truth," She shrugs and I roll my eyes, clutching my bowl of popcorn to my chest as she claims 'I'm the prettiest girl she's ever seen'.

"Shut up," I scoff as she wraps her arms around my shoulders and hugs me close. "I mean it," She croons. "Azriel's a lucky male, don't you think Fey?" Her arms slip from around me as she turns to look at the High Lady. "She gets it from her Father," Feyre intoned with a mouthful of chocolate cake and I rolled my eyes at the mention of the High Lord of the Day Court.

It was late in the afternoon, so late that it'd be night soon. I shake my head, trying not to think about when the moon meets the stars. I stifle a sigh and lean on the railing of the roof atop one of Rhysand's many estates, staring out at the three males who were flying around each other like boys again.

When I was seven, my father was an apprentice for spell cleaving. He had been practicing warding spells when I had come into the room with a bright grin on my face excited to show him my new drawing. In a moment of distraction, his spell had shot straight into my heart, the effects irreversible. We hadn't found out the full extent of the spell until we had been traveling to different courts for meetings and as soon as the sun slipped from the sky and night began to rule, my heart stopped beating and I was hospitalized for weeks.

So I was only allowed to leave during the day, as long as I came back right before sunrise. A rule that made it impossibly challenging to see my mate, who happened to be darkness incarnate.

I take a sip of my wine as I watch Azriel soar with his brothers, a rare smile on his face that makes adoration bloom in my chest. "That boy loves you," Amren hums from beside me and I roll my eyes, tearing them away from my mate to look over at her. "No shit," I scoff and a snarky smile curves her lips. "No, he loves you," She murmurs, eyes on the three boys as they laugh amongst each other. "I've never seen him so happy in all the years I've been around him, don't ruin that," She looks at me and it's as if she can see straight through me to my bare soul, past the flesh and bone and to my inner core that held the truest version of me. "What do you—" I begin but I'm cut off by a gust of wind as a figure lands on the railing that I leaned on. "Fly with me," A familiar voice says as Azriel bends down and cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look up at him. "You won't pretend to drop me like last time?" I narrow my eyes on him, forgetting about Amrens words now that he was here, cradling my face. "Nope," He bites at his bottom lip like he always does when he lies to me. "I know you're lying," I sing and he grumbles a curse, leaning in and pressing a kiss to my lips. "Ok, promise I won't." He smushes my cheeks together. I can't help but put every ounce of my trust in him and believe what he says. I nod and he doesn't need any further consent than that.

He swoops me up into his arms and with a few beats of his wings, we were soaring up into the blue sky. I tighten my hold around him with a small squeal. I had a horrible fear of heights, it was foolish to be terrified of a few hundred feet in the air when literal monsters were walking amongst Prythian but it's something that's always affected me. With Azriel, though it was different, he loved flying so much, and that smile on his face beat any fear I had.

"I won't drop you," He promised. "I know, but," I look down, dread filling my stomach at the long drop. We were higher than mountain peaks. He pulls me closer to him. "Hey, look at me," He said and I obeyed, eyes pinned to his. "Don't look down, keep your eyes on me," He hummed and I nodded. "Feels nice, doesn't it?" He tilts his head I swallow thickly, still thinking about the ground that was so very far away.

"Hey, look at me," He repeats with more stress on his words and so I do, I look into his eyes, at the smile on his lips, the dimples on his cheeks. I feel the summer breeze on my skin and hear the laughter of my friends still on the rooftop. "I love you," I confess, hands loosening around his neck and running them through his hair. He smiled, beaming at the words. "I love you more," He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I grin, then giggle as he dips down onto my neck, his nose tickling it. Cassian soars by with a large smile on his face. "No kissing and flying!" The Illyrian shouted over his wingbeats and Azriel's lips halted on my neck while I threw my head back in laughter, remembering the last time Azriel got too lost in kissing me and stopped flying momentarily, putting all of his attention to my lips instead. We dove for only a second before he regained consciousness. But ever since then, Azriel wasn't allowed to put his lips anywhere near mine while flying.

My head lifted back up and I looked at him with a loving smile, fingers coiled in his hair as he stared at me like I hung every star in the sky.

My breath hitched as the sun began to melt into the horizon. My smile faltered and morphed into a frown. "You've gotta go?" He asks and I nod with a pout, looking at him with saddened eyes. "The daughter of the sun can't stay in the night court for long," He murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple as he navigates us back to the rooftop, leaving Rhys and Cass.

"I'm sorry Az, I want to stay," I say. "I know, it's okay my love," He places my feet down onto solid land and even if I am afraid of heights, I'd much rather be up in the air instead of down here, signaling my exit.

"It's only for the night," He shrugs, settling down onto the railing of the rooftop though despite his reassuring words, something in his gaze told me he wouldn't be sleeping until he saw me again. "Oh, Az," I crash into him with enough force to knock us both over the railing but he doesn't falter, only embraces me back as I hug him tightly. "Why don't you come with me?" I ask and he tilts his head down at me with a frown. "You know your father will kill me," He shakes his head. "I don't care, I'm nearly four hundred years old, I can do what I want," I say. "And I want you," I cup his cheeks, analyzing his features as if I'll forget them. "Except you can't," He murmurs with a sad smile on his face, his thumb pulling slightly at my lower lip.

My shoulders slump and I wrap my arms around him yet again, nuzzling my nose into his shoulder. "Fly me back?" I asked softly into his neck. My fear of flying was outmatched by another moment with him.

"I was planning on it," He pressed kisses atop the crown of my head but neither of us backed up, just staying in that warm, comforting position until the sun got too low in the sky and I knew it was time to go.

"Bye, guys! See you in a month!" I wave to the others with a fake grin across my features. They all bid their farewells with pitying smiles on their faces. "I'll miss you," Mor tangles her arms around me, tearing me from a disgruntled Azriel. "Not as much as I'll miss you," I sing, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Well now I’m sun-kissed," She holds a hand to where my lips were and I giggle, pulling away and going back into Azriel's arms who was grumbling something about the joke being dumb, but I knew he was just jealous.

"Alright, alright, let's go," Azriel swoops me off my feet and carried me bridal style before Mor could get another word in— then took off to the skies, the cool wind nipping at my cheeks as we rose above the mountain peeks and begin navigating south, in the direction my mate's flown me countless times. "Bye Rhys!" I wave to the High Lord as we pass him. "Awe is it that time already!" Cassian whined, soaring to his brother's side with an apparent frown on his face. "I'll be back don't worry," I grin over at him. "I have no doubt you will," He sighs then turns back without another word and joins a waving Rhys.

About twenty minutes of flying later I knew the sun was too low in the sky to be excusable any longer.

"Az I gotta winnow," I say tiredly, hand cradling the side of his neck. "You have to be tired, plus you still have to fly back," I explain and he shakes his head. "I could fly you around for days." He reassured and I frowned up at him. "You know I have to leave," I huff. "I know," He nods. I lean upward and press a gentle, yearning kiss to his lips.

"No kissing and flying, remember?" He mumbles onto my lips. I smile at the recollection, pressing my mouth harder to his. "I'll see you soon, okay?" I whisper and he nods with creased brows and an aching heart.

His scarred fingers dig into my thigh, searing his touch into me in case I ever forgot it. "Don't miss me too much, yeah?" I ask and he smiles weakly before uttering, "I'll try."

"I'll see you tomorrow," I sigh. "I'll be there to pick you up," He reassured and my grin faltered, then as a silent goodbye, I pressed my lips to his, holding his face with enough delicacy you'd think he was made of glass. His lips press harder onto mine. It wasn't lustful or hungry, but it was passionate and full of pining. "Love you, Az," I whisper into his mouth, and before he can reply I winnow away, leaving his arms empty with only the weight of my absence, the bond between us wearing thin as I return back to my native court, a place that no longer felt like home when every element I had of a real home was in Night.

I had winnowed right into the dining room of the Day Palace, my plate already on my spot at the table. "You're late," My father grumbled, I tossed him a glance. He sat at the head of the table, a girl half-dressed in his lap. "Gods, seriously Dad?" I shield my eyes as I grab my plate, deciding not to eat in front of something that would easily make me lose my appetite. "In my defense, I didn't think you were coming home," He shrugs sassily and I roll my eyes at his behavior. "Yeah whatever, goodnight," I mutter, getting to the large doors leading to the hall. "Will I see you tomorrow?" He asks before I can slip out. "Probably not, Az is coming to get me in the morning," I mutter and he utters a curse. "I never see you anymore," He whines childishly, making a small smile spread across my lips. "I'm sorry but my days are promised to him," I open the door wider. "Unless you're willing to let him join us for dinner sometime?" I offer and he scoffs. "I'm not feeding someone who stole my baby girl," He grumbled. "That's what I thought," I nod. "Night, Dad!" I call before slipping out the door, closing it behind me with a soft click.

I travel down the halls of the palace made of sunstone and opalescent glass, taking bites of my food occasionally but I wasn't all that hungry since I ate with Rhysand's inner circle less than an hour ago. I breathe a deep sigh as I finally arrive at my room, entering then kicking the door shut as I make my way over to my desk, setting my plate and fork down before going over to my armoire and pulling myself out of the lightweight dress I wore, slipping into a nightgown instead as I prepared myself for bed, light still in the sky.

My sleep schedule had been all sorts of messed up, I had the sleeping habits of a five-year-old. Waking up at dawn and going to bed at dusk. It was unfair of me to have Azriel spend every waking hour with me during the day but it was the only time I got to see him, I couldn't spend nights with him, and couldn't sleep in the same bed.

I huff as I slide onto my mattress, pulling the covers up to my chin as my black-out curtains do the best they can to block out any remaining sunlight.

I rubbed my eyes tiredly and attempted sleep for at least an hour before I was finally able to drift off into a light slumber, knowing the sooner I fell asleep, the sooner I'd see my mate again.

——

I wake up to a light sound of thudding outside my window, then a drumming on the glass like someone was tapping against it. But I was on the highest point in the palace, the most protected and secured part of the entire court.

I sit up slightly panicked, but the tapping stops and I suppose it's my imagination, running my hands through my hair and blaming it on being overtired. But as soon as my head hits my pillow once more the sound returns. I spring up and crawl over to my bedside window, pulling up the blackout curtains with a confused expression.

My brows shoot to my hairline as I spot a familiar winged figure on the other side of the glass. I immediately open the window, pushing it to its highest point. "What are you doing here?" I question. "I missed you," Azriel shrugs and I facepalm. "Now scoot over, my wings won't fit with you right there," He gestures to me towards the end of the bed. "Are you insane? You're not coming in," I whisper shout and he frowns. "Why not?" He murmurs sadly. "My dad will kill you if he sees you," I grit out and he shrugs. Gods, I felt like a teenager sneaking my boyfriend in.

"C'mon sunshine," He sighs, his wings slowly flapping as to keep quiet. "We'll be gone by dawn," He reasons and I stifle a curse before moving out of the way and allowing room for him to enter. Shadows protect his wings as he pushes himself through the large window that he made look small.

As soon as he through I tackle him into a hug, pressing kisses along the side of his face. He chuckles, hand coming to the back of my neck. "Thought you didn't want me in here?" He taunts and I move away, looking down at him with a wide grin. "That was before," I shake my head, leaning down and wrapping my arms around his neck, lying atop him as if I couldn't get close enough to him. "Before what?" He scoffs. "Before you were in my bed," I reason. "But now you are and I don't ever want you leaving," I say into his shoulder and he grins brightly. "Have you slept?" I ask, twining my fingers into his hair. I feel him shake his head no and I internally sigh at his insomniac habits. "Alright, c'mon," I pull him up by the collar of his shirt, towards the pillows of my bed. He follows with a content smile, flopping down onto my mattress as I slip in beside him, pulling the blankets over us as I cuddle into his side, head on his chest, arm slung over his torso while he tucks me in close between him and his wing.

"How'd you get past the guards?" I perk up, looking at him puzzled. "I'm the spymaster, aren't I?" He smiles tiredly and I return it. "Not even the pegasuses noticed?" I say with a frown. "How are you so awake?" He asks, his hand coming to my cheek and I shrug. "I'm happy you're here," I explain and his grin widens, his scarred thumb pulling at my lower lip. "Go to sleep, I'll still be here in the morning," He reassured and I believed him.

I hadn't realized just how much I wanted this until I had it. His arms around me, shadows settling over us. We've cuddled before, on couches or daybeds, but nothing like this, not with the intention of sleeping. There was something so intimate about it, how he trusted me enough to fully fall out of consciousness with his arms wrapped around me.

I smile, a warm fuzzy feeling blooming in my chest. I lean up and peck beneath his jaw. "Goodnight, Az," I murmur. "Night sunshine," He softly replies and that was all I needed to hear before I faded into that familiar embrace of sleep.

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coupsie-daisies · 9 months

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Kinktober '23: Mutual Masturbation | Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan x Afab GN!Reader

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), Kinktober 2023

Summary: Your boyfriend overhears you joking with your friends that men don't seem invested in pleasing their partners. He's determined to learn exactly how you like to be taken care of.

WC: 2k

Warnings: Unprotected sex (have fun, be safe), mutual masturbation, squirting, breeding kink, use of petnames for reader (baby, pretty), mention of potentially passing out near the end

A'N: Sorry that this took so long, but hopefully we'll be back at it soon here! Enjoy

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha / @ferrethyun // @snow-pegasus // @walkxthexmoon // @aesteraceae // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog // @wonwooz1

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited

It had really just been a stupid conversation between friends, a silly little comment you'd made about how men always seemed to have such a hard time pinpointing what their partners liked, as if they were too concerned with themselves to put in that much effort. You hadn't anticipated Chan overheating it, let alone the confrontation that would come afterwards.

"Do I make you feel good?" He asked one night over take out. You gave him a look, not entirely sure what he was talking about or what had prompted it.

"What? Make me feel good?" You asked, taking a bite of your egg roll. He nodded with a firm, serious look on his face.

"Yeah. I heard you talking when your friends were over. And you said men never learn how to make their partners feel good. Do I make you feel good? Or is there something I should learn?"

He didn't sound angry, but the intensity in his demeanor was enough to tell you that he was being completely serious. You put down your food, turning to face him.

"Channie, if this is about you being insecure or anything, you don't need to. Im very satisfied, don't worry about that," You told him carefully. "it was really just a joke, I was just having a chat with the girls, and Chaer had been complaining about the guy shed been seeing."

Chan shook his head. "No that's not what it is, not exactly. Im not worried, I know I can take care of you. But if I can take care of you better, I wanna know. I wanna take care of you the way you do."

"Okay?" You asked, motioning for him to go on.

"So I want you to teach me." He said.

"Teach you?"

"Teach me how to make you cum. Show me how you like to be fucked."

The words set your entire body on fire, heat searing straight to your core. Your food was forgotten as you tried to wrap your head around the request from your boyfriend.

"You want me to...touch myself for you?" You asked. Chan had never been overly possessive or anything, but he was always determined to make you feel good on his own. And he was certainly good at it, you had never been let down.

"Will you? If you're comfortable with that."

"Yeah. Yeah I can try."

Which was how you ended up propped against a pile of pillows in your shared room, spread out on the bed while Chan sat in his gaming chair at the end of the bed. It was the hundredth time he'd seen you naked, but something about it felt so much more exposed. You had stripped down, but he was still completely clothed, insistent that this wasn't about him.

"Do I just..."

"Do what you'd normally do. What you do when I'm not around to play with you." He said. You nodded, closing your eyes and trying not to be hyper aware of the eyes on you.

You started slow, your fingertips running up your stomach, over the curve of your chest and back down again, dragging your dull nails over your skin and humming at the feeling. It was nice, just giving yourself the attention. You brought one hand up, letting it dance along your collarbone, over the sensitive spots on your neck while the other flicked and toyed with your nipple. You whined lowly, basking in the light shocks sent through you at the soft tugs.

You could hear Chan, hear the way that his breath caught when you made any sort of noise, and you imagined that he was making mental notes of every spot that earned the tiniest squirms or hums of approval. He was reading you like a book, memorizing your body like it was the most important thing he'd ever learned.

The hand not occupied with your nipples slid down, teasing over your waist, along your hip. Working closer and closer to the heat between your legs that was begging for your attention. But it never strayed that far, following the path over your thighs, scratching at the sensitive skin there and making you purr.

"So pretty," Chan mumbled, and you weren't sure if you were meant to hear. You probably wouldn't have if it wasn't for the fact that your ears were already straining for signs of his presence. You moaned quietly in return, letting your legs spread open and teasing your hand higher, tracing the seam where your thigh met your crotch, brushing ever so lightly against your lower lips. You huffed out a quiet breath at your own teasing. But you knew you had to work yourself up first or you'd be chasing an orgasm that wasn't interested in being caught.

Finally you let your fingers dip through the pool of arousal you'd worked up. You arched a little from the bed, a hiss of relief coming from your lips at finally getting some friction. You spread the wetness up to your clit, brushing against the bundle of nerves just a little before slipping your fingers lower again to gather more of it. You repeated the process until the movement was smooth, easy, and you were battling the urge to give in too quickly.

So you did, rubbing tight circles around your clit, a pretty sigh coming from your lips as you chased the feeling of your fingers, strumming the nerves just right. You heard the chair as Chan shifted, a stifled groan that you just knew it was because of him biting down on his lip.

You slid your other hand down, sliding a finger into your desperately empty hole and then another quickly after, unsatisfied with your own touch after giving in to Chan's so often. Once you were pushed even further into desperation by one finger, you added a second, scissoring yourself open for him and trying to push them even deeper. His fingers filled you up better, they could reach spots yours couldn't. You whined loud and very much not content with your situation.

"Channie, please. Can't do it myself." You pouted, opening your eyes to look at him. The sight in front of you was breathtaking, Chan sitting back with his shirt hiked up to show off the solid muscle of his stomach, and his pants pushed down just low enough for him to have pulled his cock out. His hand was wrapped firmly around the base and he was rock hard, the tip of his dick was a pretty, dark shade of pink and leaking precum that trailed down along the heavy vein that ran up his length. Your hips rocked upwards into your hand, wanting him inside of you so badly that it was downright painful. "Can't make myself cum. Please, need you to do it. Want it so bad."

He groaned, biting down on his lip in an attempt to keep his focus from faltering as he watched you fingering yourself. Your hand against your clit had stalled, just putting pressure on the nub as your hips rolled against your fingers. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, baby. Can't help, need to see how you do it. Gotta get it right." He said, brows furrowed in either concentration or pleasure, and you didn't try to figure out which it was because he was jerking himself off now, slow and steady in hard strokes. You needed to be the one wrapped around him, you needed to feel him fuck you just like that.

"Channie, I can't. Can't make myself cum as good as you can. Needs to be you, baby please. Please, it hurts. Just want you to fuck me, don't wanna try anymore. Need it to be you." You were on the verge of tears now, desperate and so worked up that you thought you might actually explode. You just needed him to take care of you. Besides, if he wanted to know what made you feel best, he'd have to be fucking you anyways. Nothing new that you could teach him.

You heard a stuttered moan, and he was squeezing the base of his cock so hard that you could only imagine it hurt.

"Can't say things like that, pretty." He muttered, already getting up and shedding his clothes like they burned him. "Beg so pretty for me, gotta take care of my baby. You tried so hard, didn't you? Just couldn't do it."

He climbed onto the bed and knocked your hand away from your dripping pussy. You quickly obliged, letting him take over. Two of his fingers dipped easily into your warmth, curling and twisting and making you moan his name so loud that you were sure to have a noise complaint in the morning. He hummed appreciatively.

"Feel better, baby? Giving you what you need?" He asked, and you shook your head, gripping at his wrist.

"Want your cock. Please, want you to fuck me. Fill me up." You said, giving him the most persuasive eyes that you could manage. He sighed out, eyes closing for a second and you could see them roll back under his eyelids, trying to keep himself in check. He always had the philosophy that you would cum at least once before he did, always the gentleman even when he was fucking you dumb. You were determined, it seemed, to test him on that today.

"So needy. Just for me. My greedy baby. Always need me to dick you down. Want me to breed you too, you always do." He was practically talking to himself as he lined himself up and slid into you. You whimpered, pure relief shocking through your body. You nodded, hands grabbing at his waist, tugging him closer and forcing his cock impossibly deep.

"Yeah, need your cock." You agreed quickly, already rocking up to meet his hips. Any coherent thought you'd had the entire time was gone now, just chasing the sweet feeling of his hips clashing against yours in hard, hurried thrusts as both of you lost your self control.

"Look how fucking perfectly you take it." His hands pushing your thighs up to your chest, exposing the way your pussy sucked him in for him to admire. "Gonna fill you up so good. Stuff you full of cum just the way you like it. My pretty baby. Come on, cum on my dick. I know you want it, been so good. Playing with yourself for Channie. So fucking-"

His words cut off abruptly as your walls clamped down around him hard enough to have his pace slowing. Your surprised cry hurt your throat as you came, juices gushing around him and wetting the bed underneath you. He didn't last a second longer, spilling inside of you and flicking at your clit to push you through the last few spasms of pleasure that rocked you.

"Can't believe it," He breathed out, hands moving to caress your quivering thighs. "You squirted. God, you're so perfect, didn't even know you could do that."

You giggled, body feeling warm and heavy and only grounded by the feeling of Chan touching you ever so gently. You blinked a few times, looking up at him and revelling in the look of pure amazement and adoration on his face.

"Didn't know I could do that either." You said. You watched him for a moment longer, the way he touched you like you were the most beautiful thing to ever grace his presence, and then he stopped.

"Gotta do it again, baby. Gotta learn how to make you do it every time. Gotta practice."

You whined at the thought, knowing how your boyfriend got when he set his mind to something. He was going to keep you up all night at this rate, and you'd be lucky if you didn't pass out by morning.

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etsuven · 2 years

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rating: sm-t cw: none i don't think!! includes: current anemo men as of the end of 3.2 (venti, kazuha, heizou, scaramouche, xiao) modern au, reader is pretty and i'm saying pretty because i think it's gender neutral everyone should be allowed to be called pretty summary: let's rank the anemo men as least to most brattiest subs <3 (also them as lovers!)

note: lets rank the men of my favorite element, anemo!!!!!! we're not reallyy ranking them as bf's only as subs- but uh this is just a small headcannon thing to pass the time between my writing!!! should i do these more often?? maybe you guys should give me headcannon asks (???) idk how to explain it, but i just want to have them as something to schedule or whatever- anyways, feel free to reply with your opinions!! (repost AGAIN bc my last post didn't show up in any tags <3)

xiao

in my opinion, xiao is probably such a sweet boyfriend! even though he's not the best when it comes to talking to people, he always has you there to help him <3 (unless you're also quiet, then he'll be the one to talk for you.) he's not shy, he just doesn't like talking to people.

your innocent kisses on his cheeks and lips get him so flustered sometimes, and even though he's embarrassed by how you ended up catching him off guard so easily, the cute smile on your face makes up for it.

now, i feel that xiao is probably the sweetest sub. much like his in public self, he's not very loud- but that's only because he's hiding his moans. it works for a little bit, but every time you fuck, you end up touching that one spot that makes him moan louder than his hand can hide.

after that, he's unable to hide his noises anymore. instead- he opts for clutching the sheets next to his head or hips. his moans are breathy, with the occasional gasp or groan into the air.

he prefers receiving oral more than giving, but only because he likes how you can so easily reduce him to gasps and almost tears. (also he loves the look you give him from in between his legs)

i feel like he'd like it if you held his hand while fucking him- like he thinks it's intimate and it allows him to feel closer to you (well, he probably can't get closer than literally being inside him/you being inside him, but that's besides the point)

all in all, very sweet, not a brat at all!

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

kazuha

kazuha my love my only limited 5 star besides the traveler who's higher than C0.... he's definitely a wonderful boyfriend. he's very kind, sweet, and he has a way with words that make you fall harder for him every time he says them.

he likes to give you sneaky kisses just to watch you jump in shock, and he's definitely the type to be like, "i'm sorry, love, but you were too pretty, i couldn't help it!"

kazuha is also a very sweet sub, and he wants to please you! you wanna touch him until he's on the verge of tears? go ahead! do you want him to sit in between your legs and make you cum as many times as you'd like? well, that's actually his favorite thing to do!

this pretty red clothed man LOVES to please you. in his eyes, he doesn't get to cum until you do. he's very good with his mouth and tongue, and it often leads to some situations where you're a little too distracted to continue your work. after all, how could you focus when there was a gorgeous man with furrowed brows and a flushed face sitting in between your legs?

when you finally get to touching him, you'll find that he has quite pretty moans. they're a bit more on the groany side, but they turn onto full on moans when he really gets into it. he doesn't hide his noises, in fact- he prefers that you hear just how good you were making him feel. you've almost gotten caught many times because of that...

he definitely likes it when you pull his hair. although he makes sure his hair is tied up perfectly when he's in between your legs, a ton of strands will always find their way outside of the previously neat ponytail thanks to your wandering hands... perhaps he should keep his hair down while like that? only to keep it from getting more messy- and definitely not to give you more to pull.

summary: he's very sweet, very attentive. if you'd like, get yourself a lover like him!

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venti

i feel that venti would be a wonderful boyfriend! contrary to popular belief, he isn't the type to date you only to abandon you in the name of freedom. he knows exactly how to cheer you up when you're feeling down, and he knows when to leave you alone when you need space.

he's very energetic, often times chatting your ear off when it comes to something he likes. he also loves giving you random things he finds in stores that remind him of you. you like a certain show? i can guarantee that he will buy a cute little keychain for you and give it to you when you're least expecting it.

if you're the more quiet type, he will gladly speak up for you. he wants you to feel as comfortable as possible.

now i feel that he's lowkey a tease in bed. he likes to leave lingering kisses on your skin just to get you worked up, and when you ask what he's doing, he'll pretend to be oblivious and walk away.

he wants you to throw him down, and the quickest way to get you to do that is to tease you until you can't handle it anymore. light teasing is all he does, as he doesn't want to accidentally annoy you and ruin the mood.

he has THE prettiest moans, kind of high and breathy, and he gets a bit choked up when you touch a particularly sensitive spot. he's also not the type to hide them, but he will do so if you request.

he loves it when you grab him by his hips as a way to keep yourself steady. you always manage to fuck him even harder when your hands are grasping his hips, something he very much enjoys when he just doesn't want to think anymore.

summary? very much a tease, but he knows how to tone it down when he needs to!

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scaramouche/wanderer

SCARAAA!!! thanks for you and your weapon but do you mind coming home one more time, i need you at c1- i don’t know what to call him here, but i’ll just stick with scara for now.

anyways, scara is such a good boyfriend he’s so sweet but it’s like backhanded sweet. like ‘i won’t admit that i really like you and i really want to kiss you but that’s embarrassing to admit so i’ll stay quiet until you do it first’ kind of sweet.

we all know from one of scara’s idle lines that he’s not afraid to speak up. he’s literally like “you didn’t like that? well that’s your problem.” so i feel like he would totally stand up for you if someone were treating you badly. but like he would insult them and leave them questioning if it was really worth messing with you.

he hasn’t experienced many romantic things in his life, as most people were too scared to even go up to him. so when you came along and absolutely turned everything around from how affectionate you were, he was quite shocked.

despite being bold and unafraid of consequences in his usual life, he’s quite shy when it comes to romance. holding hands gets him all embarrassed, the way you look at him like the answer to the life itself is right in front of you makes him so flustered. i can only imagine how he’d be like if you kissed him!

he’d be such an adorable sub, i can already feel it! he’s still a bit of a brat, thanks to remnants of his old personality being retained, he’ll talk back to you, but only because he’s flustered, and he feels that he doesn’t deserve to be touched in such a loving way.

he’ll try to egg you on, little things like “i bet i could do so and so better,” just to have you treat him a little bit harsher. he’s not glass, so don’t treat him so gently! he wants you to turn his mind into mush, he wants you to please him until forgets everything he did that day.

he loves it when you’re able to fuck him until he’s on the verge of passing out. he has quite a bit of stamina- due to not being human and all, so he’s able to go on for a while. he enjoys the feeling of everything building up until it eventually bursts, it’s overwhelming and he can’t help but get addicted to it. waking up to see you tending to him is just a bonus.

but there are times where he’ll be a bit vulnerable, and those are the times where you can be a bit more gentle with him. he won’t talk back, he’ll just embrace you and let you praise him for how good he’s being.

summaryyyyy: he’s a bit of a brat, but at the same time- not really. he’ll talk back, but at the same time he wants to be a good boy for you. it really just depends on what scara you get that day!

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heizou

pretty boy heizou <3 i have him but i don’t really read much on his personality and stuff, so i’m writing this based off of what i saw in his hangout quest.

he’s very much the flirty type of lover, always knowing what to say at certain times to get you all flustered. while he’s an expert at flirting at you, he gets quite embarrassed when you do the same to him.

forehead and back of the hand kisses are his fave, as they’re simple and sweet. though he isn’t opposed to a quick peck on the lips when you’re least expecting it.

as a detective, he is naturally attuned to your needs, knowing exactly what you want based on your body language. if you’re a bit fidgety in public, he’ll guide you away to give you a break. if your hands start to wander during what originally started as a small kiss? that was a sure fire sign that you wanted something more…

heizou is lowkey kind of a brat. the flirty nature of his doesn’t fade away when he’s about to get his brains fucked out, so prepare for him to sweet talk you and tease until he eventually can’t talk anymore.

he’ll always try to annoy you, whether that be by small remarks or outright disobeying you when you want him to do something. but unlike venti, he won’t tone it down. why? he wants you to wreck him. treat him like he’s just a toy for you to use.

his moans are on the sobbier side, as he cries pretty easily. he loves loves LOVES getting pinned down, so feel free to push his arms down into the bed as you’re fucking him so he’s unable to squirm away as he cries and pleads for you to let him cum.

summary: i don’t know much about him but he’s cute! very bratty, but he’s the fun kind of bratty. the kind where you don’t mind because it was so fun seeing him slowly lose his composure.

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cb97breathing · 1 year

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BAD GIRL

Pairing: Afab! Reader x Mafia! Chan

Theme: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Ageless Blogs & Minors Do Not Interact.

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: Please do not repost or translate my work! Let me know if you wish to be on the tagged list.

You weren’t expecting to see him so soon. He was usually gone for longer when he had to go deal with business. Your boyfriend had many enemies because he was the biggest leader in the mafia. So he was gone a lot. But this time he needed to see you, you had grown on him and while he was gone all he thought of was you. So he showed up early. He stared at you as he wore his usual suit that made you go weak in the knees.

"Baby girl." He said sternly as he stared at you with a raised brow. He leaned against the door frame, unpleased to find you in bed legs spread wide with your hand between your legs. "You disobeyed me." He growled softly. You whimpered and bit your lip. "What did I tell you to do?" He stated calmly.

"You said not to cum until you came home." You whimpered out. "I h-haven't though I-" He pressed his fingers to your lips as he sat beside you.

"You were planning to, now get on my lap, ass up in the air." He growled out. You didn't hesitate, not wanting to anger him further. You laid across his lap and lifted your ass up. "You're going to count to ten." He whispered as his hand brushed against your bare ass. You gasped out as you felt the first harsh sting of his hand.

"One." You breathed out. He slapped you again and again. Each time you counted, each time the slap got harder. By the final slap you had tears pouring down your cheeks as you shook from the harsh sting. "Ten." You cried softly.

"Good girl." He whispered as he rubbed the red swollen flesh of your cheeks. "Don't ever disobey me again. Next time, it won't be just a spanking." You nodded and he pulled you in to kiss you deeply. "Now make it up to me and suck Daddy's cock beautiful." You moved off him and got down on your knees beside the bed, Chan followed and sat on the edge. You settled between his legs and unbuckled his belt eagerly. Chan lifted his hips to help you rid him of his pants and boxers and you gently pressed your lips to his hardening length. He let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes. You licked to his length from bottom to tip and took him into your mouth.

"Fuck baby girl." He whispered as he tangled his fingers in your hair. You bobbed your head eagerly and sucked at him, desperate to please him. His moans and rocking of his hips only driving you to continue. You took him deep in your throat and he gripped your head. "Stay still beautiful." He whimpered as he began to thrust into your mouth. You choked on him, feeling him hit deep every thrust. Tears flew down your cheeks from the feeling as he moaned loudly. He watched you as he fucked your mouth and it made his chock throb. "I'm gonna cum baby, swallow it all." You whimpered in reply as he cried out loudly and spilled into your mouth. You sucked and swallowed all his seed and panted softly as he pulled out of your mouth. He caressed your cheek and brushed your tears away. "You did so well baby girl." Your eyes fluttered closed and you leaned into his touch.

"I'm sorry for disobeying you, I just.. I missed you so much. You had been gone for almost month dealing with that other group." You whimpered. "I love you so much Chan, I'm sor--" He pulled you into his lap and kissed you deeply. You melted into the kiss and gripped at his suit vest as he nipped at your lips.

"Say that again." He whispered as he brushed his lips against yours. You blushed deeply realizing what you had just said. You had never said it out loud before, scared of rejection.

"I love you." You breathed out. He kissed you again and laid you down on the bed. He ripped off the rest of his clothes and laid flush against you as he caressed your cheek.

"Again." He pleaded.

"I love yo--." You gasped as you felt him push into you, you were thankful you were already wet as you arched into him. He nuzzled his face in your neck and held you tightly as he rocked into you. "Oh god Channie." You whimpered softly.

"Mine, your mine." He panted softly as he thrusted roughly into you. You shuddered moaned loudly. He nipped at sucked at your neck, marking you so everyone could see. "I love you y/n." You felt tears flow down your cheeks again, hearing him say those words made your heart swell. "I love you my baby girl. I always have."

"Show me, show me how much you love me." You begged. He kissed you deeply and slammed into you, his hand slipped between the both of you and he began to rub your clit. You cried out loudly and shook beneath him. "Fuck Daddy don't stop!" You sobbed loudly into his plump lips.

“Be a good girl and cum for me.” He moaned out. “Come on Daddy’s cock.” He stayed still inside you but rubbed your clit wildly making you scream out and writhe. “That’s it love.” He groaned out as he felt you clench around him. Your eyes rolled back and your legs shook violently, you cried out his name loudly as you came around him. Overwhelming waves of pleasure spread through your core. He didn’t stop rubbing your clit and started to pound into you again. You couldn’t form words all you could do was whine and sob from the continuous overwhelming sensation.

“Daddy I— Fuck!” You mewled loudly. He groaned loudly as he pounded wildly into you. The bed rocked due to the force of his thrusts. You were sure he would break it. You were dazed, overwhelmed and cock drunk. They look on your face made Chan’s cock throb.

“Come on love. I know you’ve got one more in you. Cum with me. Milk my seed out while I fill you.” He growled. Your body reacted to his words and you cried out loudly. You clench around him and he moaned loudly. You shook as you felt his hot load spill into you, he moaned your name over and over again as you both rode out your orgasms. You were limp in his arms and whimpered as you both laid there still connected and entangled in each other. He pressed his lips to your forehead and caressed your cheek.

“You did so well baby girl.” He breathed out. “So fucking well.” You whimpered in response. Too tired and fucked out to respond. You laid there for the rest of the night as Chan held you tight, kissing you and whispering words of love and praise. If anyone else could have seen how he was in that moment, they’d never believe that he was mafia.

if you're able to support me and my writing, you can buy me a coffee here :)

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shygirl4991 · 2 months

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Chapter 2 Boyfriend Bonding

Cover made by @lizaluvsthis do not repost!

A Reboot of the next step! Last Chapter Next chapter Summary: SMG4 and SMG3 relationship changed after realizing their feelings in WOTFI 2023, now together the pair can take the next step together. That is until a strange gift arrives on SMG3's birthday making him face his demons from his past.

Tags: Fluff, Boyfriends, Love Confession, Watch Wotfi 2023 before reading, first love, mention of igloo

It was morning in the showgrounds, SMG3 woke up making himself a fresh cup of coffee. The events from yesterday felt like a dream, he looks around the room he is in “Living in SMG4 castle…my..” he blushes remembering the title his ex rival now carried. If someone told SMG3 back when he was a villain he would be calling SMG4 his boyfriend, he is pretty sure he would make sure that person wouldn't be able to speak again. After he grabs his cup of coffee he decides now would be a good time to catch up on reading, he walks to the guest room of the castle and settles himself in. Relaxing in the guest room he takes a sip of his coffee, then takes out ‘redeemed super villains weekly’ a magazine series he picked up after becoming friends with his ex rival.

He flips through the pages and notices the hit new interview is about a villain that changed to a hero all for love. He wondered if that's what really motivated the change in him, the connection he felt with SMG4. The moment their hands intertwined, the surge of warmth he felt. Was that the moment he first fell for the man, seeing him fight not just for the world but for his friends. SMG3 hums to himself lost in thought, until his boyfriend kicks the door open “AHHH!” SMG3 lets out a high pitch scream. SMG4 blinks seeing the coffee fly in the air landing on the floor, he then stares bug eyed at his boyfriend “SMG3! Uh i'm sorry about that,” he lets out a sheepish smile. He places his laptop on the table in the room before running out to get items to clean the mess.

SMG3 lets out a shaky breath as Four returns with cleaning products, he starts cleaning the mess as SMG3 glares at him “WHAT THE HELL?! You know not to bother me on Saturdays, it's SMG3 time where I drink coffee and do other things. So what is so important you kick the door down?” SMG4 finishes up the cleaning and gets up, giving his partner a wink. Grabbing his laptop he sits next to SMG3 showing him a list of locations, Three looks at the locations lost on what his boyfriend was up to. “Since we are planning to keep it low with our relationship, i was thinking we can do these couple challenges to warm up on being a couple!”

Three squints at the list, looking at all the challenges made the man want to walk out of the room. He turns to see SMG4 giving him a hopeful looking, Three sighs looking down “I have to ask man, Best chef? Dress me up? These challenges sound fucking stupid dont tell me you got them from wikihow?” SMG4 blushes at being caught, he looks to the side “un no?” He clears his throat in hopes that his boyfriend doesnt push the topic anymore. He points to the list determined to get Three to agree with one, he checked all over the internet and it all told him that the best way to bond with your partner is to do activities together. He always wanted a relationship, sure he wanted a girlfriend but it didn't change that he felt lonely for so long. Finally understanding what these strange emotions were with SMG3, well he couldn't be happier. Sure they were rival’s for years, but after fighting for so long he finally understood this all happened because they misunderstood each other. Now that they are together he needs to work harder, nothing will break them apart. “Doesn't matter man, I did some research last night and these challenges help bring couples closer together!”

He turns giving a soft look at SMG3, he blushes at the expression. With a sigh he looks at the list knowing he had lost to his boyfriend, he then points to one of the challenges. Excited SMG4 peeks to see what was picked “We all know im the better chef, after all Marty wanted my pizza recipe! Heh I doubt a scrub like you could do better!” SMG3 smirks at his partner. SMG4 lets out a chuckle, a smug expression on his face “I remember you burning eggs when we were stuck together, I doubt your cooking is that amazing.”

The pair nod as they run out looking for judgings for the event, SMG4 notices Meggy and Tari arriving. With a bright smile he starts his approach only to be pushed aside by his boyfriend, SMG3 turns around sticking his tongue out at him before reaching the girls. Four glares at his partner watching the exchange “Hey Squid, me and smg4 are going to have a cooking competition. We need judges to try out our cooking.” SMG3 points to the castle, Tari gasps excited at the invitation “Meggy lets do it!” seeing her friend's reaction she lets out a small giggle “Okay, we are in!” Three smiles hearing the agreement.

The girls walk into the castle ready to take their place, while SMG3 smirks at his boyfriend. With that the men go inside setting up the kitchen with the ingredients needed for the event, given this was SMG4 castle and Mario’s house they mostly had ingredients for pasta. Three looks at everything frowning “Um wont this stuff just summon Mario?” Four chuckles giving Three a pat on his back “Mario is on a vacation with Bowser, I doubt a cooking battle with pasta would bring him back!” Three rolls his eyes “You underestimate our Avatar's love for spaghetti.”

Meggy walks to the kitchen and smiles at them “Alright ready boys? LETS COOK!” she hits a bell before leaving the room. The boys then begin to cook, SMG4 chuckles to himself as he cooks. Being friends with the plumber for so long has trained him in the arts of pasta, there was no way his boyfriend would beat him. Four turns to check on the competition when his eyes go wide, there he sees Three picking up two cans of beans and starts to dump it in the pot. He then watches as his partner slices the tomatoes, SMG4 lets out a small smile “Oh well beans to pasta shouldn't be too bad.”

The moment Four relaxed is when Three took out a bottle of hot sauce and started pouring it into the spaghetti sauce. Watching the sight was worse than any horror game SMG4 had to play through, deciding to be the best boyfriend he can be, he walks up to the man. SMG3 was humming to himself as he cooks, he pauses when he feels someone grabbing his arm. He turns to see his partner giving him a small smile “Yes?” now having his attention Four points to the man's pot. Three crosses his arms staring at Four “Um Three, you do know beans and hot sauce aren't really a thing put together for spaghetti?” Three scoffs “You don’t know the true power of beans, amusing to see it will be your downfall scrub!” he then blushes slowly slipping his arm away from Four. With a sigh SMG4 walks back to his station, while he cooks he couldn't help peek at his partner hoping Three wouldn't be disappointed when no one likes his dish.

Both men hit the bell to let the judges know they were done, as they walk out to greet the judge SMG4 gasps seeing they had an extra one. Mario was sitting with the girls waving at them, SMG3 smirks “Told you the spaghetti would summon him.” SMG4 playfully smacks Three as he grabs his plate and hands it to the judges. Three goes to the back to grab his pot, Four watches nervously as Mario vacuums the pasta in a blink of an eye. The girls took a bite and gave him a thumbs up, then noted down his dish was a seven.

Distracted with writing the score, Mario snuck up behind them and ate their spaghetti. Meggy stares at the plate surprised before turning and glaring at him “Oh come one Red that was ours!” “Mario is hungry!” he then smacks the table demanding more pasta, Meggy sighs giving an apologetic smile to Tari. The girl just giggles at what happened reassuring Meggy. The door opened catching everyone's attention, there SMG3 walked with confidantes showing off his dish. Four couldn't help himself from blushing, if there is one thing Four loves the most about his boyfriend is that cocky confidence he has.

To keep up the appearance of still being friendly rivals Four smirks at him “I got this in the bag, everyone loved my dish!” Three rolled his eyes amused, he then drops the plate in front of everyone . Tari tilts her head seeing the dish “Beans?” Three nods and proudly waves his hand at the dishes “Yep, It’s SMG3 special pinto beans spaghetti chili!” Each of them took a bite, Four was getting himself ready to comfort his boyfriend. To his surprise they didn't spit the meal out like he expected, instead Tari and Meggy eyes go wide as they start eating the dish as fast as Mario. The girls start crying from the spice as they finish it up, they all hold up tens for the score as Mario dashes to finish the rest of the pasta.

Four fell to his knees in shock, not only did he lose but he judged his own partner not having faith in him. He frowns, realizing how unfair he was towards the other man, slowly a plate appeared in front of him “I saved you a plate..uh! Not because I want you to try out my cooking idiot! I’m just showing off!” Three looks away blushing.

He takes the plate and slowly takes a bite, he couldn't believe how amazing it tasted. He could feel the spice burn him the more he ate, so he decided to stop eating before it got to the point he started to breathe fire. He puts the plate on the table before taking Three’s hand “This is amazing three! I had no idea you could make dishes like this, you're just so amazing.” he smiles softly at Three making the man melt. He gets closer to Four letting his own smile grow “This isn't the half of how amazing i am!”

Meggy lets out a soft cough “Hey um are we missing something here?” Mario’s stache grows as he sniffs the pair “Mario smells gay, are you two finally dating?”

They both let go of each other embarrassed, they got so lost with each other they forgot about the others. They panic unsure what to do, as SMG3 thinks over the situation, he knew he could trust them not to spill anything. With a deep breath he takes Four’s hand surprising him “YEAH WE ARE DATING AND IF YOU TELL ANYONE THERE IS A BOMB WITH YOUR NAME ON IT!”

SMG4's face goes red, he wasn't expecting Three to make the announcement to them so suddenly. Shyly he intertwined his fingers with Three, they both stayed there waiting to see how their friends would react. Tari giggles clapping for them “Aw I’m so happy for you two!” Meggy nods “Yeah i'm with Tari, It’s awesome you guys are finally together!” she then smirks at Three “Also the threat is hard to take seriously when you're so red in the face there Three.” SMG3 glares at her “Shut it squid!”

Mario silently stares at them, it felt like a dream for the plumber to hear those words. After years of knowing them and seeing the two at each other, even seeing the event that happened in a certain igloo, he couldn't believe the day came that finally they were dating. Seeing how close they were standing to each other and holding hands, slowly a huge smile grew on his face along with his mustache "YIPEE!!! Finally Mario knew you two were gay for each other!" He runs hugging the two guardians.

The boys smile hugging him back, the girls smile at the moment then run up to join the group hug. They spend the day chatting and telling the group how they got together and wanting to keep things low, as they happily talk about random topics a strange package dropped off at the castle along with other gifts. Hearing the sound outside Four nods at the girls to distract Three, he runs and smiles seeing the gifts “Finally it's here, now to figure out how to distract Three tomorrow to throw the best birthday party he’s ever had!”

#smg4 #smg3 #smg34 #shygirl4991 #smg4 smg3 #smg43 #smg34 fanfiction #the next step with you

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rusmii · 24 days

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so ik I said I'm not one for drama, but I feel as if I need to speak up abt a certain subject that's been circulating recently. I wanna show awareness to others abt this person's behavior, because it's reoccurring in any fandom they're apart of/potentially will be in.

WARNING : DO NOT GO OUT TO HARASS/SEND HATE TO ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS POST ! it is simply intended to raise awareness

tws;;; manipulation, gaslighting, victim complex, refusing to change/refusing help from others, blaming others for their own problems, lashing out/sudden meltdowns, accidental misgendering, accidental crossed boundaries, lack of communication, taking their anger out on people, drugs, usage of weed/being high, hardcore gatekeeping characters, suicide mentions, threatening to commit suicide, mentions of self harm, sexual assault/harassment, human trafficking, burdening others with their vents and problems, gets sensitive and possessive over fictional characters, major hypocrisy.

edit; sorry accidently posted without adding the last bit of screenshots... had to repost :p

@/ji-yans or luma ( prev known as @/lu-naes + @/dazaisdior + @/kurolumiis ) has been active in many writing communities, but have been the most active in the; wuwa, bsd, genshin/hsr communities.

starting out in the genshin community, I am unsure abt lumas original rep there, but I do know that they were practically forced out with a horrible rep to their name.

going around the end of their time in the genshin community, it was brought to light, about lumas excessive + subconsciously manipulative discord messages in a genshin server they were in.

edit 2; after being given proper permission from the op, ill be able to link it.

LINK TO POST

TDLR; luma, as a minor, has been in nsfw spaces and even creating nsfw pieces of their own. they had been known as a terrible gatekeeper towards their f/os, including; xiao + scaramouche [genshin], dazai + ranpo [bsd], dan heng/imbibitor lunae [hsr], scar + jiyan [wuwa]. luma would then go on to say that they felt like killing themselves, and how awful/left out they felt whenever they saw their f/os being selfshipped with someone else. they also at the age of 16 have admitted to being under the influence of weed and has mentioned drugs on their blog many times. i don't know exactly where luma has been finding weed to get high on, but I do hope they have stopped now.

here are some screenshots of my dms with them on their prev acc @/dazaisdior or @/kurolumiis, asking some questions concerning the gatekeeping and drugs/being high + informing them of the post;

LINK TO SCREENSHOTS OF THE DM

luma had given me really vague answers, but since it was their buisness and privacy, I didn't push any further. ultimately in the end, I've decided to give them a second chance to redeem themselves because I thought that they may have matured or at least somewhat grown out of their toxic ways since the genshin community.

giving them a second chance was a mistake on my end, as I soon found out that they in fact, would not change. instead I got to saw the side of them that the genshin community saw—and just as history repeats, it happened on discord again.

at the start, luma was fine, yknow- acting normal like everyone else right? they did vent a lot in the vent channel, but I didn't rlly bat an eye at it bc they were at least venting in the right place.

at a certain point in the server, we had confronted luma abt writing nsfw—telling them that it was wrong to be writing smut as a minor. we had offered them many alternatives, such as; writing smut but not posting it until they're 18 and writing smut but in a journal or something. this went on for abt 2 hours until luma decided to become a sfw blog and create an entirely new acc which is now @/ji-yans (prev @/lu-naes)

not just about writing nsfw though, we had also confronted them about posting daily vents without using their vent tag the past recent month or so. and now, I am not saying that they couldn't vent—venting is fine, but when it comes to daily vents like lumas, there should be some sort of tag to it ( or put it under a cut ) to block out their vents. we did end up suggesting for them to make a side/vent/personal blog if they wanted to, and so they took up that offer and created @/lumxiaos (this is inaccessible now they probably deactivate the acc or changed the user), to which they've constantly subposted abt us on.

luma, during these two confrontations, was very gaslight-y/a little manipulative with their responses but we can save that for another day.

anyways, keep in mind abt the subposting, bc I need to provide context abt everything first.

so this stemmed from a convo abt them saying they kinned deadpool blah blah, and zai (owner of the server ) said that they were not like deadpool bc luma was empathetic or something like that.

LINK TO SCREENSHOTS

now, idk how some people will interpret lumas last message, but me and zai interpreted it as; "oh i got gossip and tea, but it might too be triggering for it to be on main chat". if that made sense in a way?

so, when we go into vents, we were dabsmacked in the face with vents. you can call us insesntive for replying the way we did, but I have vents muted for a reason. but anyways, luma had a breakdown(?) and blamed us for a lot of their problems when we didn't respond in the way they wanted us to.

LINK TO SCREENSHOTS

after a while, the situation sort of.. escalated? luma was using a mutual of ours ( briar ) as a messenger to send zai things and vice versa. and a whole lot of stuff happened.

so here's a timeline of events to shorten what happened, and ill only be providing screenshots for the more important things that had happened;

-> luma vent -> breakdown -> leaves server -> messenger bri -> zai confronts them on why they left -> luma rejoins -> luma apologizes -> luma leaves again -> luma takes it out on bri -> zai confronts again -> they duke it out -> luma runs away from their problems and the argument -> unmutuals us/drops us ( left everyone as followers ) -> random subposting abt us on @/lumxiaos

long story;

after luma had their breakdown, they went to briar bc they thought that me and zai blocked them. we didn't block them though, and js assumed that luma was just afraid to dm us- causing zai to go confront them instead. after they had talked it out, zai re-invited luma to the server, to which they apologized for;

LINK TO SCREENSHOTS

after their apology, most of us thought that this would have died down and we'd go back to normal, but this didn't last as long as I hoped.

when luma sent a picture of scar from wuwa, me and briar started jokingly dogshitting on his appearance ( if you've been on my blog long enough, you'd know that I'm already a character slander, so this is normal behavior for me ). instead actively telling us their boundaries, luma slowly died down in the server until they left again out of anger- causing us to be confused again.

this is when briar messaged luma and was being the brunt of their anger/manipulation + also blaming us for relapsing(?).... anyways, zai confronts luma again, and it's just luma not being able to handle being told upfront, that they're the problem.

when it came to the misgendering, I can 100% take full accountability and say that I had forgotten that luma was nb and goes by they/them prns. but with lack of communication/boundary enforcement on their end, I didn't know when I was accidentally misgendering them or crossing their boundaries.

the only boundary luma had set, was when they dmed zai on discord about a server member being 32, and how uncomfortable they felt being in a place with someone so much older ( luma's 17; going on 18 for context ).

here are screenshots of what went down within the span time of like a few hours;

LINK TO SCREENSHOTS

LINK TO OTHER SS

LINK TO SCREENSHOTS OF LUMA BEING UPSET OVER SCAR + BRI DROPPING LUMA

+ also blaming us for a bunch of other things that has never happened

don't get me wrong, luma is completely valid in the way they feel. one of the problems that lie in this though is how they've never once came to us ( me or zai ) to set things straight ( enforce boundaries ), but rather went to briar to burden them with their vents/lashing out.

here's screenshots of zai confronting luma;

LINK TO ZAI AND LUMAS FIRST CONFRONTATION

LINK TO ZAI AND LUMAS SECOND CONFRONTATION

after all of this, luma proceeded to subpost abt us on their personal/vent blog

LINK TO SCREENSHOTS OF LUMAS SUBPOSTING

here's also stuff that me and zai noted from briar abt what luma did to her/with her on vc ( ty zai for taking note of everything ) ;

regular conversation abt genshin -> lumas random confession about a weed addiction and has been smoking weed since 15 (??)

anytime someone jokingly picked on them, they'd bring it up somewhere and call themselves unstable and say they'd relapse

anytime briar tried to leave any situation they'd complain about briar being mean and they'd force her to pick sides

every single day luma would have a problem and call up briar to vent to her, causing constant burdens to pile on briar

they'd pressure briar into telling them what was in the nsfw chat???? despite not being allowed access??? ( they ARE a minor; age 17 )

calling briar on vc, saying that she ( briar ) would burdened everyone by her saying parents were poor?? basically telling briar she can't talk about her own experiences ( but only luma can for some reason..? weird of them to imply but ok ).

blaming whole conversation ( about trying to help luma ) about briar and guilt tripping her saying "I'm gonna kill myself and its your guys' fault"

Luma is a subconsciously manipulative person, with hypocritical tendencies and a constant negative aura around them that ends up dragging everyone else down into a horrid mental state with them. They are not someone who knows how to communicate or enforce boundaries, yet will demand that those same unknown boundaries are respected, with a childish response whenever we cannot read their mind to know what they are. Majority of these dramas that have happened with their being the cause could've all bean easily avoided with some simple responsibility and change. They have shown an inibility to grow or mature as a person - it is a repeat offense. With any amount of help we offered for any amount of time, they would acknowledge and not show any signs of improvement in any of their actions. You reap what you sow.

Again I reiterate that YOU ARE NOT TO SEND HATE, ANONS, OR NASTY MESSAGES OF ANY KIND. Change can only come from the person who's responsible for their own actions, and it has been proven many times now Luma does not accept any kind of help, no matter if they beg for it. The purpose of this post is to hold Luma accountable for their actions and leave a record of what they have done, so they can't twist the narrative to shift blame. This is not a call to mass block or report them, or to pick sides, or to bully anyone involved. We take full responsibility on our part for any negative actions we have caused.

#spreading awareness #sort of a #callout post #lu-naes #dazaisdior #kurolumiis #discourse #tumblr discourse #ji-yans

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 4 months

Text

You're the Only Girl for Me - Chapter 16

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February 14th 2021

Airielle could barely concentrate on the movie Josh put on after dinner. Her mind was racing as she contemplated her future with Josh. It was clear to her now that she was in love with Josh. What if things didn’t work out between them? What if he decided that he didn’t want her nomore and wanted to get back together with Tracy? She didn’t think she could handle another broken heart.

“Hey you good” Josh asked, coming back to the couch with her glass that he just refilled with wine. Airielle gave him a tight nod and accepted the glass he was handing her, taking a long drink, almost draining the whole glass. Josh watched with a smirk on his face. She was adorable when she was nervous. “Talk to me Airielle.”

Now or never Airielle, put on your big girl panties and tell that man how you feel!. She heard Yasmine’s voice yell in her head. She let out a sigh before draining the rest of the glass.

“I love you.” She blurted out and closed her eyes, waiting for the rejection to come. Of course he’s gonna reject you! You ignored him for days. You think he wants to put up with you? The voice in her head said and Airielle had to quickly push those thoughts away as Josh grabbed her hand.

“Hey, look at me.” Airielle slowly opened her eyes to look at him. “I love you too.”

“Deadass?” She breathed out, making him laugh.

“Duh,” He teased. “Look around Rih. The heart balloons, the flowers, rose petals on the table. Takeout from your favorite restaurant almost a hour away..”

“But.. It's valentine’s day.” She said with a shrug. “I just thought you were being nice..”

Josh snorted. “Nice would be me just getting you the wine and a box of chocolates and calling it a day. This” he gestured around the apartment. “This is my professing my love for you. This is my showing you how much you mean to me and how much I want to be with you Airielle.”

“Oh.” was all Airielle could get out.

“Look, We love eachother no doubt and I want to be with you but do you want to be with me?”

“Yes,” she said immediately. “I do want to be with you. I’m just scared I told you that last time.”

“And I told you, you don’t have nothing to be scared of when it comes to me and you.”

“So what does this mean?”

“It means you mine and I'm yours and aint nothing or nobody coming in between us.”

“But what about Tracy?”

“Imma handle her, I shoulda put my foot down when she didn’t leave after dropping my sons off. None of that shit will ever happen again. I promise you that.”

“Promise?” She asked, holding out her pinky to him. He nodded with a chuckle before connecting their pinkies together and placing a kiss on the back of her hand.

“Promise, but uh- we gotta talk about you and homeboy” He rolled his eyes when she had a confused look on her face. “Oh- I would never dream of fumbling you.” He mocked in a high-pitched tone. She tried to contain her laugh but she couldn’t with the look of utter disgust on his face. “And then you had the nerve to like that shit.”

“I’m sorry.” She said still laughing

“Man, that shit had me hot. Just wait until I see that motherfucker…”

February 16th 2021

Airielle let out a soft moan as she slowly arose from her slumber. “Oh shit” she whispered, opening her eyes and making eye contact with Josh who was settled between her legs with his tongue gently lapping at her clit.

“Mmm, happy birthday baby.”

“Thank yo-ohh” her response was cut short as he sucked her clit into his mouth, he chucked against her sex as one of her hands moved down to grip his hair between her fingers. Her orgasm hit her immediately, her thighs shaking as Josh didn’t stop his torment on her pussy. “Jesus Christ,” she moaned pushing his head away when it got to be too much.

“Happy birthday.” He said again as he kissed his way back up her body and connecting their lips together. She moaned into the kiss sliding her hands down his chest and abs, he let out a moan once she cupped him through his boxers. “We don’t have time.” Airielle ignored him, slipping one hand inside of his boxer and stroking him.

“But it’s my birthday.” She whispered against his lips. “Shouldn’t I get what I want?”'

“Y-yeah” he stuttered back, pumping his hips to match her strokes. “You can have whatever you want.” He let out a groan when she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and bit down on it. She pouted when he abruptly pulled away from her and moved over the bed.

“Josh.” She whined sitting up in his bed and crossing her arms over her exposed breast. He chuckled and threw her shower cap at her.

“You got about 20 minutes before Trin and your cousins get here.” she arched her eyebrow but didn't say anything as she stood up from the bed and strutted over to him. “Airielle,” He warned, eyes on the ceiling so he wasn't looking at her naked body. She rolled her eyes with a grin and walked past him into the bathroom.

“So..” Yasmine trailed off as she, Airielle, Trinity and Asheley got settled in the empty beauty bar. “Are you happy?” Airelle nodded as she thanked the worker for her mimosa.

“I am, like this is crazy..” She gestured around to the empty shop that was decorated for her birthday. She was.. shocked for a lack of better words when they walked into the shop to find a ‘Happy Birthday Airielle’ banner taped to the reception desk and a balloon garland at the entrance.

She was also shocked to find out that Josh had put his credit card on file so whatever service they wanted was already paid for.

“Oh, you mean none of your ex-boyfriends never bought out a salon for you to get pampered on your birthday?” Ashley said with a teasing smile.

“It’s the fact that he paid enough to where they could close for the entire day and not miss out on any funds.” Trin said with a smile, proud of her brother in law. This was the top black owned spa/beauty bar in Pensacola and Airielle had mentioned that she wanted to go here, so why not go all out for her birthday?

“You are a lucky girl.” The nail tech smiled at Airielle

“Yeah,” Airielle breathed out with a slight chuckle. It was crazy to her that a couple of days ago she was willing to walk away from a relationship with Josh. She was willing to lock her love for him away in a box in the back of her mind with her mother and … nope she still wasn’t ready to think about that. Even though it was years ago it was still a raw and sensitive topic.

“Imma need to find me a man like Josh..” Ashley said as they walked into one of Airielle’s favorite boutiques to find it set up similar to the beauty bar.

“Welcome, my name is Aliyah and you must be Airielle.” She said looking at Airielle who nodded. “You ladies have free reign, a Mr. Fatu has put his card on file for you all and said there is no limit.” Airielle’s eyes widened as she looked at the other three women. “Oh and happy birthday.” Aliyah smiled before going to the back of the store where Airielle assumed her office was.

“And you were willing to give all this up because you were scared..” Yasmine said, chuckling when Airielle gave her a shove. As the three other women went to start looking for dresses, Airielle pulled out her phone to text Josh.

To Josh❤️🫶🏽: any more surprises? From Josh❤️🫶🏽oh beautiful, i got a whole bunch of shit up my sleeve From Josh❤️🫶🏽 you havin a good time though? To Josh❤️🫶🏽 Yes, thank you, best mani/pedi i ever experienced. From Josh❤️🫶🏽: you deserve it. I’ll see you when you get back.

“Stop texting that man and come help us spend his money!” She heard Ashley yell out. And spend his money they did. She knew when Josh got his credit card statement later that month he would probably have a mini heart attack.

“You sure yo’ eyes closed?” Josh questioned Airielle as he led her inside of the restaurant where her ‘surprise’ birthday dinner was. She wasn’t sure why she needed to be blind folded if she planned the dinner herself .

“Yes Josh, my eyes are closed. I have a blindfold on Josh, I can’t see anything.”

“Aight just checking” She rolled her eyes under the blindfold and let him guide her where he wanted her to go. “Okay ready?” She nodded and he took off her blindfold.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Airielle let out a gasp as she took in the room. They had completely transformed the private room to fit her aesthetic .

“Oh my god.” She whispered, looking around the room, a smile making a way onto her face.

“You like it?” Josh asked and Airielle could hear the uncertainty in his voice. She turned around to face him.

“I love it Josh.” She whispered, throwing her arms around his neck and bringing her mouth to his in a sweet and soft kiss, giggling at the chorus of ‘awe’s’ from her guest and a shout of ‘hands!’ from her dad when Josh let his hands slide down to her butt. Josh immediately removed his hands from her body and held them up causing the group to laugh.

This was the best birthday Airielle had had in years and it was all thanks to Josh. If this was what being loved by him was like… she could get used it.

AIRIELLEJONES

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AirielleJones : 30 never looked this good 🎂

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@uceyjucey: damn it's my birthday or urs? 🔥. (❤️ by author)

@user: green looks good on u sis!

@trinity_fatu: hey now! don't be tryna come for my green gig lol. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SIS!! ❤️😘 WE TURNIN UP TONIGHT! ( ❤️ by author)

@yasmine_jones: happy b-day fav ( ❤️ by author)

@ashley_reign : woah! ( ❤️ by author)

HELLO! SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 🫣

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

#wwe #jey uso #jey uso x black reader #jey uso imagine #main event jey uso #jey uso x reader #jey uso smut #wwe x black reader #jey uso fanfic #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso x fem reader #wwe x fem reader #wwe x oc #your the only girl for me #whatdoeseverybodywant writes

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pedroshotwifey · 9 months

Text

Bad Idea

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, sex pollen, dubcon but not rly (just putting this here bc of the pollen), piv sex, softdom Frankie, smut, fluff, friends to lovers, Frankie is a fucking sweetheart, oral sex (f receiving), breeding kink if you squint, unsafe sex (wrap it before u tap it, babes), ill add more shit later if I missed something

Summary: While on a mission, you and Frankie find yourselves covered in some kind of pollen and realize that there is no chance you'll be able to resist each other.

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to finish this, I hope it was worth the wait! I'm not really sure what compelled me to make this so fluffy, but it's there, so, like, I hope you people like fluff. Likes, comments, and reposts are extremely appreciated <3 (Also feel I would love to start getting some requests in if anyone's up for it)

***

You knew this was a bad idea.

It always is, accepting any kind of job that Santi offers you. But the asshole knows your weakness. He mentioned Frankie would be there and you were in. Suckered once again. He, and the rest of the group for that matter, seem to be well aware of your infatuation. Except for Frankie, of course. He’s never really seemed to pick up on it. Which, honestly, you’re not sure is a good thing or not.

You’ve been harboring a massive crush on Frankie since the first time you were introduced. You and Santi–against your better judgment–had been longtime friends when he brought you to a local bar to meet up with some of his other buddies. You had been away on a job for the last year or so, so when he heard you were back in town he jumped at the opportunity. You hadn’t expected much, already knowing Ben and Will meant that you would only be meeting two guys you wouldn’t be familiar with.

What you really didn’t expect was for one of them to be a devilishly handsome and ridiculously charming bachelor. Frankie had absolutely taken your breath away the first time you laid eyes on him. You two had hit it off immediately, practically separating from the rest of the group as you polished off drinks and told stories from your military days for the remainder of the night.

Fortunately, you kept in touch through mutuals and occasionally worked together on smaller jobs–thank god for Santi. (But also fuck him.) Unfortunately, nothing ever came of it. Frankie never showed any kind of explicit interest in you, so you never pushed it. You were perfectly content to just be friends if that’s all he was willing to give you.

That's exactly why it’s such a problem when you find yourself coated head to toe in some kind of powder, right next to Frankie, who received a dusting as well. Your walkie is going off at your hip and you briefly register Tom’s voice coming through the receiver. He is positioned right behind the two of you and got the perfect view of whatever the fuck just happened. One second the two of you were walking, looking for any signs of landmines or traps around the building you are targeting for the mission, and the next your vision was completely compromised by a soft yellow pollen.

“Fuckkk,” you hear Frankie mutter next to you. You look at him with wide eyes as the powder settles on your skin, eliciting a tingling sensation wherever it touches. The said sensation, however, becomes the least of your problems when you feel the amount of slick that suddenly coats your panties. Your knees buckle and you have to drop your gun to hold your balance, which doesn’t seem to help much as you continue your descent to the forest floor. Frankie’s hand quickly shoots out and steadies you by your elbow but it only makes it worse.

The feeling of his skin on yours acts as a balm on your quickly overheating flesh and you moan involuntarily at the feeling. He retracts his hand as if you had burned him and the action would have embarrassed you if not for the moan that slips out of Frankie’s lips, as if he had felt the same thing. At least it’s not just you. At the sound, you feel another wave of arousal coat your already-soaked panties, the wetness growing extremely uncomfortable as the fabric starts to stick to your cunt.

“Uh, F-Frankie,” your voice sounds weak as you call for him. You have no idea whether or not he heard you, but you take a guess based on the pained groan that escapes his lips. The sound is like heaven as it reaches your ears.

Your vision grows slightly blurry as a sudden need to be fucked takes over all of your senses. Without Frankie’s hand to help you up, you let yourself fall the rest of the way so you can lie down on the ground beneath you. You watch as Frankie’s blurred form follows suit with a groan. You start to inch toward his writhing body until you hear Tom’s voice again, this time it sounds much clearer, like the connection is getting better as he gets closer to you. You struggle as you pick up your walkie and press the button.

“D-don’t come any closer, we're covered in some kind of f-fucking pollen.” You have to take a breath before explaining further. “It’s itchy and it’s everywhere, stay where you’re at.” You don’t bother listening to his panicked response as you tuck the walkie back into the clip on your pants. Your skin feels tight and you can feel your clit starting to throb between your legs. It feels like the smallest amount of friction would grant you an orgasm, and as good as that sounds right now, you would rather not cream your pants in front of your crush.

“Fuck,” Frankie repeats his statement from earlier, his voice strained and raspy. “We need to get out of here.” You nod your agreement and crawl your way toward him, ignoring the way his skin feels so cool against your own as you reach out to help him up. The both of you use each other to get back to your feet. By the time you’re standing, the feeling is less overwhelming than it had been at first, enough so that you’re able to hold your balance this time. You pick up the weapons you had dropped while Frankie comms the rest of the guys to let them know what happened

You definitely got the most of the blow, as you were the one who had stepped on whatever the fuck that plant was. Frankie had only been a few feet behind you and had been exposed to a good bit, but likely nowhere near what you had been covered in. At least one of you is lucid enough to figure out what to do next. You hear the tail end of the conversation before Frankie signs off of the walkie and bends down next to you.

“Alright, Hermosa, I’m going to get you out of here, okay?” You hiss as Frankie wraps his arms around your sensitive skin, picking you up bridal style.

“Fuck, Frankie, it hurts,” you whine and tuck your head into his neck, breathing in his scent. He is shaking slightly and even you can feel the way his skin has started to heat up. “I know, sweetheart, just hold on for me.” You nod into him and close your eyes, only opening them when you feel your body being set down in what you assume is the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck. He leans over you and you have to resist the urge to grab onto him as he buckles you in.

You close your eyes again and wait until you hear Frankie get into the driver’s seat before you speak.

“I think I saw a motel a few miles from here.” Your throat feels like sandpaper as you struggle to get the words out. “I think I saw it, too.” Frankie’s voice doesn’t sound much better. The entire way to the motel the only thing you can focus on is how your nipples are rubbing painfully against your bra and how fucking bad you want to suck this man’s cock. Your thighs keep clenching and rubbing together and you have to bite down on your lip so as not to moan at the slight pressure. You feel like you’re going to explode.

“Think you can walk, sweetheart?” You nod at Frankie’s question as he turns the truck off. His voice still sounds pained and you’re not even sure if yours will work at this point. He keeps one arm around you just in case as the two of you walk into the motel. He gets keys for two rooms and you feel a twinge of disappointment. It only lasts a second though, because you can’t think of much else than the fact that everything feels hot and sensitive.

As soon as Frankie gets the keys, he leads you to the rooms. They're side by side so you won’t be far from him, and the fact that he will be in such close proximity, likely doing exactly what you’ll be doing, is enough to cloud your judgment again. And fuck, now you’re thinking about his cock again. You know it has to be big, there’s no way it isn’t, not for a man like him. Frankie sets one hand on the small of your back and leans over you to unlock your room for you. You gasp to cover your moan as you suddenly feel something else against your back, definitely not his hand this time.

“You’ll be okay?” Frankie’s concerned tone cuts you out of your spiraling thoughts. You look up into his own lust-blown eyes. He looks fucking wrecked. God, you would get on your knees in the middle of this dirty hallway for him right now if he only asked. “Yeah, you?” You ask when he doesn’t. He nods slowly, and you let your eyes fall to his plush lips before trailing back up to meet his gaze again. He says your name lowly, like a warning, and you lick your lips, ignoring his tone.

You roll your hips back against his while keeping eye contact, watching Frankie groan as you grind on him. His hands fall to your hips and he begins to guide you against him. “W-why don’t you come inside?” You ask him breathily. “Are you sure that's what you want?” He steadies your hips and brings his face down so he can whisper in your ear. “If you let me in there, I’m not letting you leave until I’ve properly taken you apart.” You shiver at both the way his words elicit another gush of slick from your cunt and at the way his tone turns dark so quickly, letting you know he means it.

Instead of answering him, you turn on your heel and crush your lips to his, your hands going up to wrap around his neck and thread your fingers through his hair, knocking his hat to the ground. Frankie moans deeply and grabs onto you as he guides you backward into the room. His tongue finds its way into your mouth as he slams you against the door once it's closed, both of you grinding against each other like desperate teenagers. He only breaks apart once he hears you whine in pure desperation.

He steps back and takes in your disheveled appearance, his hand flying to the front of his pants to rid himself of his belt. “Strip, get on the bed.” You don’t need to be told twice. You practically rip your clothes off as you stumble through the room. Each article removed feels like a relief, allowing the cool air to kiss your skin, sticky with sweat. Frankie does the same, both of you completely naked by the time you reach the bed. The sight of his cock hanging flushed and heavy between his molded thighs makes your mouth water.

He quickly climbs on top of you and you both moan at the way your flesh brushes together, temporarily soothing the burning sensation. Frankie wastes no time in lowering himself to a position easiest to lick into your aching cunt.

The first stroke of his tongue makes you scream out and you bring your hand up to cover your mouth. He immediately starts eating you out like a starved man, licking and sucking and fucking you with his tongue like there’s no tomorrow. You throw your head back as your free hand buries itself in Frankie’s hair. He groans when you tug on the strands and you swear you can feel the vibrations run up your spine.

You feel the knot in your stomach growing embarrassingly fast, your entire body tensing as you reach the edge.

“F-fuck, Frankie, fuck-” you unsucessfully attempt to get a sentence out. “God, don’t stop, please, god!” You feel him smirk as he continues his assault, before taking your clit into his mouth and sucking hard.

You think you scream as you climax, but you can’t be sure. There is nothing you can feel, see, or hear other than the orgasm Frankie is currently riding you through. It’s the most intense thing you have ever felt, and you don't know if it's because of the pollen or because it’s Frankie. Probably a good bit of both.

He continues to eagerly lap up your release until you pull him away when the overstimulation starts to become too much. Hand still in his hair, you guide him up your body until you can look above you and into his eyes. Your heavy breathing catches in your throat when you see the sticky liquid dripping down the lower half of his face.

“Oh my god…” you trail off as his smile widens, his tongue coming out to lick his bottom lip. “Look so fuckin’ beautiful when you squirt, Hermosa.” He brings his lips down to yours in a bruising kiss and you sigh as you taste your release on him. Needless to say, you get over your embarrassment pretty quickly.

Despite your orgasm, your skin seems to burn even more than before, and your clit seems to throb out of control. All it takes is one look to know that Frankie feels the same way. His eyes are filled to the brim with tears getting ready to overflow and you have no doubt that your expression matches his own.

Before either one of you gets a chance to say anything, Frankie surges forward and encases your lips in his own. He kisses you sloppily as he pushes you back even deeper into the mattress.

“Gonna f-fuck you now, Hermosa,” he says, his voice bordering a whine. “Need to feel this soft fucking pussy.” You whine in a way you hope signals your agreement, your arms wrapping underneath Frankie’s to let your fingers claw at his back. “Just f-fucking hurry,” you manage to squeak, your skin burning as you grasp at him.

He listens, immediately scrambling to grasp his weeping cock and guide it to your sopping entrance while keeping one forearm settled next to your head for stability. There is almost no resistance as he slips in, bottoming out in one frantic thrust. The two of you moan in unison, capturing each other's desperate noises.

Frankie wastes no time in setting a hurried pace. The force of his thrusts makes the headboard of the bed slam against the wall but you can’t find it in you to care. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he immediately starts to hit something heavenly within you. The pressure is already building up in your abdomen.

You open your mouth to scream but you find that the punch of his thrusts are restricting your ability to make any kind of sound. Your eyes close as your second orgasm sneaks up on you. With two more frenzied thrusts from Frankie, you’re coming undone around his thick cock.

Frankie hisses as you squeeze around him, the added sensitivity from the pollen enhancing every small stimulant.

“God, not gonna last long in this s-sweet cunt, pretty girl.” Frankie’s voice is pitched an octave higher than usual as he tries to stave off his own orgasm–damn well bordering a whine. You can feel how close he is by the way his dick pulses with need and by the way he clings tighter tighter to the bedsheets beside your head.

“Go ahead, Frankie, need you to come inside me.” He practically whimpers at the request but shakes his head to juxtapose the noise.

“N-no baby, give me o-one more first.” He’s shaking with the amount of effort he’s exerting to hold off. Almost as if your body is listening to his demands before you can process, you find yourself arching your back as you spasm around his cock once again. It takes you by surprise–you didn’t even realize you were that close.

Completely fucked out, you let Frankie use your body to chase his own end. “Come on baby, mark me, come inside,” you slur your permission for a second time. He lets out a guttural groan as he lowers his head to nuzzle into your neck. His strokes get deeper with the lower position and you wince from the overstimulation, though you want more at the same time.

“Yeah, Hermosa, that’s what you want, huh? Let me come inside this pretty pussy, let everyone know who you belong to now? Let everyone know that you’re fucking ruined for any other man?” His pace gets more frantic as his own words spur him on. You whine at the thought of the people knowing that Frankie fucked you, laid his claim on you, made you his.

“Yes, Frankie, God please,” you keen into his ear as you bring one of your hands down to tangle your fingers into his curls, bringing him closer into your neck. “I’m yours, all yours, take what you want, baby.”

Your words push Frankie off the edge and his teeth lock onto your neck while he comes to a stop deep inside you. You pull him closer still, encouraging him to leave his mark. As his seed floods into your cunt, it feels like you jumped into a pool of cool water. Your entire body relaxes further and by the way Frankie settles his weight onto you, you figure he feels the same way.

After his dick stills and softens inside you, the two of you lay there for a moment. You run your fingers through Frankies messed hair while he licks over the mark he made on your throat. It feels like the most natural thing, laying there with him tangled in your arms, his head on your chest, both of you on the verge of sleep. You’re about to drift off when Frankie interrupts the silence in a gentle tone.

“Been wanting to do that for so long, pretty girl,” he says quietly, his voice filled with sleep. Your eyes open and are immediately filled with tears.

Frankie must sense the way you tense up because he quickly lifts up to look at you. You can see the panic that blooms in his eyes as he meets yours. Before he is able to say anything, though, you surge forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and planting your lips onto his.

You feel a few tears drop from your closed eyes, but you ignore them as you continue to kiss him and push until he’s forced to lay on his back, pulling you with him. When you finally separate, you stare into eachothers eyes, both of you with lopsided, love-drunk smiles.

“Me too. I’ve wanted you for so long, Fish, you have no idea.”

“You’re right,” He huffs a laugh as he says it. “I had no idea, I never thought you could feel that way about me. You’re so fucking perfect and I don’t deserve any part of you. I'm just…” he trails off and looks down for a second before meeting your gaze again.

You give him a slightly confused look as you answer him. “I thought I was being so obvious,” you laugh quietly in return. “I’m nowhere near perfect, sweet boy. Even if I was, you deserve anything you could ever want. I want you, Frankie. Do I deserve you?”

He doesn’t miss a beat before he has you pulled into his chest. “Of course, angel, you deserve everything, I’ll give you anything.”

You’re crying again and you wipe away your tears before saying what you need to say. “I love you, Frankie.” You look into his eyes to see that he is tearing up as well.

“I love you too, my perfect girl,” he says softly as he pulls you into a hug and rocks you, his one of his hands on the back of your head, tucking you into his chest. You close your eyes and breath in his scent, knowing that this is where you belong.

pt. 2??

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #frankie morales #fluff #triple frontier

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