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alisonsfics · 7 months

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jealousy jealousy

pairing: tony dinozzo x reader

summary: you’d been too scared to confess your feelings to tony, which you means you have to sit idly by as beautiful women flirt with him. then one day, you’ve had enough and tony overhears you ranting about how much you want to be with him.

word count: 2.6k

“Gibbs, they’re sending someone from the FBI over with those files.” You mentioned, hanging up of your phone.

Gibbs nodding, continuing the form he was filling out. “Good work, L/N. What do you have, Dinozzo?” Gibbs asked. Tony looked up with a surprised expression. He thought he had more time before Gibbs called on him.

“Nothing yet, boss,” Tony responded, bracing for Gibbs’ response. Gibbs didn’t even have to use words. He just glared at Tony. “I’ll try harder.” Tony said, going back to typing on his computer.

You smiled to yourself. Every member of the team had been in that position before. Any day you were on Gibbs’ good side was a good day.

Your computer dinged, and you saw an email pop up in your inbox.

New email from [email protected]

You glanced up at Tony and saw him pretending to innocently be hard at work. You opened up the email:

“You gotta quit me making me look so bad. You gotta at least give me a fair shot.”

You quickly typed back a response.

“You love me and you know it”

You heard Tony’s computer ding. You looked over the top of your computer to watch his reaction. He chuckled to himself when he read it. He looked up, meeting your gaze.

You blew a kiss in his direction. He chuckled and winked at you.

“Maybe you’d have something for me if you started working and stopped flirting, Dinozzo.” Gibbs said, seeing the way you were both smiling at each other.

“To be fair, boss. She started it.” Tony said, throwing you under the bus. You eyes frantically darted over to Gibbs. The wrath of Gibbs wasn’t something anyone looked forward to.

“But, unlike you, she’s getting her work done at the same time.” Gibbs said, giving you a smile. Your frown and worry disappeared. “Thank you, boss,” you said, cheesily grinning.

“Take a little break. Maybe Dinozzo will focus better. Can you bring Abby this Caf-Pow for me?” Gibbs asked, holding the cup up for you. You stood up, grabbing it from his hand.

“Right away, boss,” you said, heading towards Abby’s lab.

You could hear Abby’s signature rock music playing before you even got off the elevator. You knocked on the open door, causing Abby to jump and turn around.

“Caf-Pow delivery from Gibbs,” you said, smiling. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You walked further into her lab, handing her the cup. “Gibbs usually delivers my Caf-Pow’s himself. Is he mad at me?” Abby asked, staring down at the cup like it would give her answers.

You wrapped your arms around her, giving her a quick hug. “He’s not mad at you, Abs. He was trying to get me out of the squad room. Because apparently I was distracting Tony too much.” You explained.

Abby smirked. “Of course you were distracting him. He can never take his eyes off you. You both are so in love. You just can’t admit it.” Abby said, cheerily.

Abby was right. Well, at least about your feelings towards Tony.

You had never told Abby about your crush though. Abby hated keeping secrets, so you didn’t want to make her keep yours. Regardless of whether you confirmed it or not, she had been confident for years that you and Tony liked each other.

The only person you ever told was McGee. After all, you needed someone to talk to about it, and McGee had really good advice.

“We are not in love, Abs. We’re just friends.” You told her, like you had a thousand times before.

“I’m holding out hope.” She told you, ignoring what you said. Abby slid two stools over for you both to sit on.

“I’d be a shame if you both were to get locked in an elevator together or something.” She suggested with a sneaky smile. Your jaw dropped. “Abigail Sciuto. You wouldn’t dare.” You said, stunned.

“You underestimate my commitment. I know for a fact that Tony could only handle so long in a confined space with you before he is all over you.” She said, winking at you.

You both froze when you heard the elevator doors ding and slide open. Neither of you wanted Tony to overhear your conversation.

“I’ve got company and gifts, Abby.” You both heard Tony’s voice announce as he entered the lab. You noticed a woman in a pantsuit following close behind him.

“Agent Fusco, this is Abby Sciuto, our forensic scientist, and my colleague Agent L/N.” Tony introduced the three of you.

Tony turned around and grabbed the evidence box out of Agent Fusco’s hands. “This is the evidence that the FBI has on our case, Abs. Do your thing.” Tony said, handing the evidence over to Abby.

Abby started organizing the contents of the box, and you couldn’t take your eyes off Tony and his new friend. She was practically drooling over Tony.

“Why don’t I give you this. You can call if you have any questions or if you don’t have any dinner plans?” She said, batting her eyelashes at Tony and handing him her phone number.

You expected Tony to laugh in her face and throw the card away. He didn’t.

He actually smiled at her and slid the card into his pocket. “Thank you. I can show you out now.” He said, placing his hand on the small of her back and gesturing towards the door.

You watched in shock as they both exited the room.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, you and Abby turned to face each other. “Did you just see what I saw?” You both exclaimed at the same time.

“Little miss I can just bat my eyelashes at a man and make him fall to his knees. Like come on, are you kidding?” You complained. Your jealousy wasn’t even hidden at this point.

This isn’t what Abby was going to point out, but she didn’t think you were ready to hear it yet.

“It sounds like someone is jealous.” Abby said, knowing she’d almost caught you. You shook your head, defensively. “I’m not jealous. I just think it’s a little unprofessional.” You lied.

Abby tilted her head to the side. She didn’t believe a word coming out of your mouth.

“Really? There’s not even a little part of you that wishes it was you asking Tony out?” She challenged you.

You knew she was absolutely right, but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it.

“I need to get back to work, Abby.” You said, turning on your heel and heading towards the door.

“You’re in denial. The heart wants what it wants.” She called after you as you left the room.

You walked back into the squad room, and Tony was walking past you going towards he bathroom.

Apparently, your jealousy was written all over your face.

“You okay?” Tony asked, stopping in front of you. He didn’t think it had anything to do with him, but he knew something was wrong.

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine.” You lied, giving him a fake smile. He didn’t seem satisfied with your answer, but accepted it.

He walked past you, and you headed towards your desk.

Later, you were standing in the observation room as Tony and McGee were interrogating a suspect.

You had been grumpy since you saw Agent Fusco flirt with Tony. You were unbelievably undeniably jealous. The only person you wanted Tony to flirt with was you, which you knew was stupid because you couldn’t get the courage to tell him how you felt.

Your attention was focused on the suspect, trying to decipher whether they were telling the truth or not.

On the other side of the door, Abby was pacing the hallway. She was trying to decide whether she should tell you what she noticed earlier about Agent Fusco.

You jumped as Abby burst through the door. “Jesus, Abby. Almost gave me a heart attack,” you said, placing your hand on your chest.

“Sorry, but I need to tell you something. You didn’t notice this because you were feeling jealous, but you need to know. Agent Fusco is like a knock off version of you. You both could be sisters, which is probably why Tony is interested. I know you kinda hate her right now, but you only hate her because you think she’s this girl Tony likes more than you. But she’s not. She’s the girl that reminds him of you, and he can date her without risking your friendship. It’s the only reason he hasn’t made a move. He doesn’t want to lose you on the off chance you don’t feel the same way.” Abby ranted.

You felt butterflies appear in your stomach at the thought of her being right.

Then, your self doubt kicked in.

The technician at the soundboard was so intrigued as he eavesdropped that he accidentally bumped a button and turned on the microphone in the room.

“Abby, I know you have this fairytale idea in your head that Tony and I will end up together, but that doesn’t make it true.” You started to say. Unknowing to you, Tony, McGee, and the suspect were hearing every word.

They were all frozen still, not fully realizing what was happening.

“I care about Tony so much, but I can’t get my hopes up for the fairytale. The odds Tony likes me are practically zero. I cant handle the disappointment. So, yeah I have to fake a smile as he flirts with other women, but there’s nothing else I can do. So, just stop bringing it up! Every time you do, I get excited but then I have to get pulled back down to Earth and it sucks.” You argued, all your pent up emotions coming out.

You were about to continue when McGee started knocking on the one-way glass. Being the only one who knew about your feelings for Tony, he wanted to protect you. He knew you didn’t want Tony to hear what you were saying, but he felt like he couldn’t react fast enough.

Abby sprinted out of the room after you yelled at her.

You realized Tony had heard at least part of your rant, and you felt sick to your stomach.

You had to get away from Tony, and you had to apologize to Abby.

You ran out of the observation room and headed straight for the elevator down to Abby’s lab.

When you got there, Abby had locked her door. You walked to the vending machine down the hallway and bought two chocolate bars. You needed to apologize to both Tony and Abby, and chocolate wouldn’t hurt.

You sat down on the floor outside Abby’s lab. You would wait as long as it took to apologize.

After a few minutes, the elevator doors opened in front of you.

Tony stepped out of the elevator and gave you a hesitant smile. “You're next in line, I promise.” You told him. He furrowed his eyebrows, having no idea what you were talking about. “Line for what?” He questioned.

“People I need to apologize to,” you said, simply. You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, not wanting to look him in the eye. You were still feeling mortified that Tony heard your little rant.

Tony leaned against the wall in front of you. “Why do you need to apologize to me?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

“I embarrassed you in front of all our coworkers. All because I couldn’t act professional.” You admitted.

Tony’s expression softened. He saw how guilty you felt. “You can take me off your apology list. You didn’t do anything wrong to me.” He told you.

Your head snapped up to look at him. You were shocked that he wasn’t mad. “So, Abby locked you out?” He asked, gesturing towards the closed lab door.

You nodded your head. “She has every right to. I shouldn’t have yelled at her just because I was frustrated.” You said, honestly.

“You want me to get her to let you in?” He suggested. Tony always did everything in his power to help you out. You shook your head, knowing Abby needed time.

Tony took a step toward you and held his hands out. “C’mere,” he said, waiting for you to grab his hands. You placed your hands in his, and he pulled you up to your feet.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for a hug. You breathed a sigh of relief, knowing Tony wasn’t mad at you. You wrapped your arms around him.

He continued to hold you, and then you remembered something.

“Oh, I have an apology gift for you.” You said, pulling out of the hug. You grabbed the chocolate bar out of your pocket and handed it to him.

He chuckled to himself, always amazed at how sweet and caring you were. “Special apology chocolate?” He asked, smiling at you. You smiled back and nodded your head.

“So, why don’t I give this back to you as an apology gift from me? Then, we can call it even?” Tony suggested.

You tilted your head to the side, trying to figure out what he was talking about. He had nothing to apologize to you for. He slipped the chocolate bar back in your pocket.

“An apology for what?” You asked him.

“Not doing this sooner,” he said, taking a step forward and kissing you.

His hands cupped your face as he passionately kissed you. It took you a second to kiss him back, still in shock.

You wrapped your arms around him, letting your fingers caress his back. He nudged you backwards until your back was pressed up against the wall.

You felt the butterflies swirling around in your stomach. His hands strayed from your face and traveled down to sit on your hips. You grabbed the collar of his shirt, keeping him close to you.

His lips felt electric on yours. Every inch of your skin was tingling. The kiss became more impatient. You both had spent years dreaming about being in this exact situation.

Tony spent many nights wondering what your lips would feel like on his. Your lips were softer than he imagined they would be.

He let his fingers sneak under the fabric of your shirt. His fingers left goosebumps on your bare skin.

You both heard a door slam open and turned to see a speechless Abby.

“Just friends, huh?” She said, with a smirk on her face.

Tony took a step back from you, knowing you wanted to apologize to Abby.

“Abby, I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just was overwhelmed, and I’m really sorry.” You said, sincerely.

Abby’s lips curved up to form a smile. “Don’t worry. I know you didn’t mean it. I don’t have any regrets. Someone had to talk some sense into you both and get you to confess how obsessed with each other you are.” She said, still smirking at you both.

“Also, I wasn’t really mad. This was part of the plan. Who do you think called Tony and told him to come down here?” She said, coyly.

You remembered the comment she made to you earlier about locking you both in an elevator together. It wasn’t an elevator, but it did the trick.

And she was right. Tony was only able to last so long in a confined space with you before being all over you.

Tony stood right behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He pressed a soft kiss behind your ear.

“Thank you, Abs.” He said, before smiling down at you.

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itsjusthockey · 1 year

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When The Party’s Over - Jack Hughes

I have a problem with writing angst and this is much longer than expected. I'm not sorry.

Big announcement coming soon. Get excited.

I'm needy, so the more love I receive, the more I write. So please follow, comment, repost, and talk to me. I really do cherish this blog and want to be more active

Anyway so yeah, come talk to me. Please, I want to know what you guys think.

Should there be a part two? I don't know

wc: 3,423 (credit to gif maker)(don’t steal my work)

Content warning: Swearing and light NSFW? I don’t know it’s not super explicit but it’s all my first time writing it and I’m not sure

Part 2

Don't you know I'm no good for you?

I've learned to lose you, can't afford to

Jack may not be much of a coffee guy, but he is nothing but a weak man when it comes to his favorite bagel place. It’s a regular part of his routine, a constant thing. He goes before practice, grabs his usual order, and then he’s gone.

Usually, he keeps his head down, Jersey isn’t the biggest place, and he likes to avoid attention on his mornings off. Yet, he lifts his head when his name is called and moves to thank the lady handing him his food and walk out when he quickly scans the room, his eyes stopping when he lands on a familiar face.

You’re sitting at a small table close to the edge of the room, surrounded by notebooks, highlighters, and staring hard at your computer. He takes a mental note of your concentrated state, knowing you’re probably in the zone, but he elects to ignore that fact as he makes his way toward your table.

You jump slightly when he takes a seat across from you, only to relax, just barely, when you see it’s him.

“Jesus, Jack,” You breathe out, “Scared the hell out of me.”

Jack can’t help but let a smirk take over his features, and his heart twinges a bit when you let a breathtaking smile take over your own face.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” He teases. “What’re you doing here?”

You look at him briefly, then gesture vaguely to your coffee and your wide range of studying supplies. “Homework, or at least trying to.”

“Ah, I see.” He smiles again, relishing in the company of your presence; it’s been over a week since he last saw you.

“Anyway,” you scoot your chair closer to the table, “Come here often? Their bagels are great.”

Jack lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, almost every morning. It’s pretty close to my place and the rink.”

Once he finishes, a look of recognition crosses your features. “I knew this area seemed decently familiar.”

Jack nods, and he watches as you scan over the coffee shop, then finally rest your eyes back on him. The eye contact doesn’t last long, though, when your phone begins to buzz on the table, and you sneak a quick glance down. Jack can’t help but notice the slight smile after you read the message, and his heart falls ever so slightly.

You snap your eyes to meet his and place your phone face down on the table, leaning back in your chair. “Not that I don’t love this reunion in the daylight, but don’t you have somewhere to be?”

The question is fair, he does, in fact, have someplace to be, but if he’s honest with himself, the last thing he wants to do is remove himself from this chair across from you.

“Yeah, but being a little late never hurt anyone.”

You snort at his statement, rolling your eyes at him.

“Go to practice, Jack.”

He knows you’re right, he doesn’t want to leave, but with playoffs around the corner, he shouldn’t be here, no matter how much he wants to stay.

“You’re right,” As he gets up, he notices your almost empty coffee cup. “Can I at least get you a refill before I leave?”

You glance at your coffee, contemplate his offer, and shake your head. “I’m okay, Jack. Thanks anyway.”

He nods, grabs his bagel, and turns to leave, but not before he pauses and turns around again. “You busy tonight?”

Your eyes dart back up again, but before you answer, your phone buzzes again, and you glance down. You take a few seconds to read the message before you answer him.

“I’m not sure. I’ll let you know.”

You give him a warm smile, but there is also a hint of awkwardness behind it. He chooses to ignore the possibility of rejection and nods your way one last time, and makes his way out of the shop.

As he exits, he glances back to your table one last time, already seeing you consumed back into your schoolwork, forgetting he was ever there.

Jack knows he’s not the smartest guy in the world, but he’s smart enough to know when he’s fucked. The idea was not to fall in love, which is easier said than done. He couldn’t help it; it came out of nowhere. You’ve been sleeping together for a while, longer than both of you could care to admit. He knows that the arrangement is simple, and it works. You’re not his, he’s not yours.

But fuck, does he want you to be.

Tore my shirt to stop you bleedin’

But nothin' ever stops you leavin'

Jack gently traces his fingers along your skin, relishing in the feel of your curves beneath his touch. He watches in awe of how your body responds to every move he makes, and he can tell you’re close. Your fingers dig hard into his back, your head falls back ever so slightly, and he slows down his movements to the pace he knows drives you crazy.

To get you there, he concentrates. He knows your body like the back of his hand, but he still tries to watch your face for cues, even though you're not meeting his stare. He didn’t notice it right away when you started sleeping together, but now it’s hard to ignore. No matter what he’s doing, you always look away.

He desperately wants to see you, stare deep into your eyes, and show you, somehow, that when you’re beneath him, it's the closest thing to heaven on earth.

Tonight is different for him, and he needs you to look at him, to see him.

He pulls your face gently to look at him, and reaches down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. He makes sure he’s got your attention. Your pupils are blown with bliss, and the soft look goes give him makes him feel like he’s the only person in the world. Before he can stop himself, he presses his forehead to yours and lets himself fall deep into the endless pools of your eyes.

It’s intimate, you both know that, but for a moment, just that moment, you allow yourself to get lost in each other as you meet your highs.

Jack rides it out as long as possible, loving you in every way he knows how and making sure you feel just as good as him. When you both finally come down, your heavy mixed breathing filling the room, reality sinks in.

You’re the first to break, as always, gently pushing him off you. Jack watches silently as you get off the bed, grabbing various scattered clothing items and pulling them on. He watches with a mixture of longing and disdain. He knows you’re going to leave, you always do, but he can’t help but hope this time you’ll stay.

“Stop being a creep.” A playful grin plays on your face as you catch him staring, finishing pulling on your shirt.

He ignores your joke, “Where are you going?”

You shrug your shoulders way too casually.

“Not sure, maybe out?”

His heart sinks, and he doesn’t want to acknowledge the fact that you’re killing him.

“You could stay? It’s pretty late.” He glances at the clock next to his bed.

The dry laugh you bark out makes him cringe.

“And risk running into the next girl? I’m okay, Jack; I’ll see you later.”

With that and a quick check of yourself, you leave. He’s left with his lingering thoughts and regrets. He knows you’re bad for each other, and he knows that this arrangement will eventually kill him, but he can’t seem to get away.

Jack hears the outside door slam, and he’s truly alone. He decides that his best option is to sleep you off, try to forget the way you felt in his arms and the way you make his heart feel like it’s about to burst. He falls back into his bed, staring at the ceiling. The sheets around him smell like the familiar scent of you, and he hates how it’s comforting. He feels himself falling deeper and deeper into himself, and you didn’t even know he was drowning.

He knows it’s best if he just tries to sleep, flush out any thoughts of you. He doesn’t need to think about where you are or who you’re with because you aren’t his, even though he’d do anything to make you love him as much as he loves you.

He thinks about the last comment you made. About another girl. He knows his reputation and the fact that many people think he’s a player. He’s not, though, and he wishes you knew there wasn’t another girl; it’s only you.

Don't you know too much already?

I'll only hurt you if you let me

Jack's eyes are fixed hard on your back, watching almost every move you make across the dimly lit bar. He can tell you’re relaxed, and your head is thrown back, laughing along with your friends. Though he isn’t close enough to hear the laugh that makes him happy and destroys him, his heart clenches anyway. You look like you’re having the best time in the world, and he can’t help but wonder if he’s crossed your mind, even once.

He is nursing a drink that is too watered down for his taste, and his focus is pulled back to you every time he manages to integrate himself back into his teammate's conversation. While he catches a few snippets here and there, he has no idea what the hell they’ve been talking about for the last twenty minutes, and he hopes they don’t notice that his attention has been elsewhere.

He isn’t that lucky, though, because Nico elbows him slightly in the ribs, leaning toward him.

“You okay, Jacky?”

He nods, feeling horrible. “Yeah, sorry.”

He knows he needs to focus, pay attention to the guys, and have a few drinks after a good week. So he tries, his absolute hardest, to keep his eyes off of you.

He lasts about five seconds, and when he looks back toward your table, you’re gone.

He quickly searches the room and sees you making your way toward the bar. It’s honestly embarrassing how fast he moves, and before he can stop himself, he removes himself from his table and makes a beeline toward you.

He reaches you just as you put in your order, throwing the bartender a thousand-watt smile and leaning ever so slightly over the counter. When you finally notice someone beside you and turn to face him, It’s the brief look of unrecognition that practically kills him.

“Jack?” You recover quickly, slipping on a bright smile. “What’re you doing here?”

He stares hard for a second, unsure if you’re messing with him. He knows he’s told you this is his team's favorite bar, but when you’re still waiting for his answer, he clears his throat.

“Uh, it’s the bar closest to the rink,” He hates the sound of his voice. “I’m here with the guys.”

Your eyes flash behind him to his teammates, and a sly smirk takes over your features.

“Well, don’t they look like fun?”

He lets out a light laugh, “They are.”

The bartender interrupts the conversation, setting down your various drinks. You go to hand him your card, but Jack beats you to it.

“It’s on me.” He hands over his Amex before you can protest, and you shoot him a look he can’t decipher.

“You don’t have to buy my drinks, Jack.”

He shrugs his shoulders as if it’s nothing.

You thank him and the bartender as you pick up the drinks.

“Need help?” Jack asks, watching you struggle to get the last glass.

You finally grasp the cup and flash him another smile. “I got it. Thanks again, Jack.”

As quickly as you came, you were gone, heading back to your table where your friend celebrate your arrival as if you’ve been away for years. Jack watches as you all cheers your drinks, and his heart warms a bit when you catch his eye one more time, winking and raising your glass to him ever so slightly.

He nods and heads back to his own table, determined that at the end of the night, he will get to you somehow. He only wants to have you within reach, talking with his teammates or dragging him out to the dance floor. Above all else, he wants you in his arm. So, he texts you, hoping you’ll invite him over and the night will officially begin, and he can be happy. He waits and continues to glance your way.

You never respond.

Call me friend but keep me closer

And I'll call you when the party's over

When Jack's phone buzzes loudly on his nightstand the first time, he ignores it. It’s late, and he has a big game tomorrow. When it buzzes again and continues, signaling an incoming call, he finally shifts his weight and grabs it.

It’s been a week since he saw you at the bar and even longer since you’d texted. You’ve also never called, which causes his heart to beat a little faster than it should. He presses answer.

“Hello?” He asks, hearing some brief static on the other end.

“Jack?”

Your voice sounds small, and he immediately sits up straighter in bed, suddenly wide awake.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

He hears your sigh softly on the other end.

“Honestly,” You hiccup, “No. I’m wasted, and my best friend has my apartment keys, and they all don’t want to leave, but I feel sick, and my phone is almost dead, and I didn’t know who else to call in Jersey, and I-“

You continue rambling, and Jack can hear you softly sniffling in between words, and It takes him less than ten seconds to throw on a shirt, pants, and make a beeline toward his Range Rover keys.

“(Y/N)” He finally interrupts you, “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

He doesn’t hear you for a moment, and he thinks for a second that you hung up.

“No.” You suddenly say sternly, as if you just realized you called him. “Fuck, I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have called you.”

As you finish, Jack can sense the panic starting to rise in your voice, and he knows that you’re falling deeper into your own head, and he has to pull you out before you disappear.

“Hey, don’t say that. But please, send me your location.”

“No.” You repeat, “You have a game tomorrow. You should be asleep.”

Jack's heart skips a beat when you mention his game. He didn’t know you followed his schedule. His mind begins to run a million places, different places, until he grounds himself and remembers the problem at hand.

“(Y/N),” He says it as hard as he can to force you into telling him where you are. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep until I know you’re home safe. Send me your location.”

It’s silent on the other end of the line, and after a moment, his phone lights up with your pinned location.

“Do not move. I’m about fifteen minutes away. Okay?”

“Okay.” You whisper back to him.

What should have been fifteen minutes turns into less than ten as Jack ignores every driver's safety training he’s ever had. He would do anything to be able to teleport to you, but instead, he goes as fast as he can.

When he pulls up to the crowded bar and doesn’t see you outside, he’s instantly filled with worry. His pulse continues to build until he sees you a small distance away from the entrance, sitting on the curb with your head in your hands.

As soon as he parks, rather badly, he bolts out of the car toward you. When he gets within a few feet of your form, your head snaps up. He watches as a mix of emotions crosses your face, and his heart finally does crumple when he sees a tear slide down your cheeks. It takes everything in him not to wipe it away as he kneels in front of you.

“Can you stand?” He asks softly.

You slowly nod, and he takes both your hands, helping you get to your feet. He watches as you wobble a bit too far to the left, and he catches you in his arms.

The second you’re in his hold, you melt into his touch, and he hates the way that he his entire body finally relaxes, knowing you are safe and in his arms.

Jack continues to steady you, feeling the weight of your body against his. He can smell the alcohol on your breath, and you’re way too cold for his liking after sitting outside. He grabs your shoes and phone and begins walking you toward his car. Once you’re there, he gets you into the vehicle, buckles you in, and hands you a bottle of water he’d thankfully grabbed from the fridge.

“There we go,” he says, making sure you’re set.

Your eyes follow him as he climbs into the driver's seat, and once he turns the car on, you break the silence.

“Thank you, Jack.” You whisper, your head falling a bit toward the window.

Jack focuses on the road as he makes his way back toward his apartment. He knows you’re in no state to be brought home alone, and he’d never forgive himself if something happened to you.

“Jack?” You speak again, and he hums. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He means it. “I’ll always be here when you need me.”

He turns to face you briefly, and he has never seen you look so sad, and it crushes him all over again. He wants to talk to you, figure out what’s going wrong in that beautiful mind of yours, and do anything to fix it. But he knows that this conversation can be had at a later date. Instead, he turns on a radio, and when he steals another glance at your figure, you are asleep.

Jack drives slowly and carefully to his apartment, knowing he has the most precious cargo to him sitting in the passenger seat. When he finally pulls into the parking ramp and turns off the car, you are still dead to the world.

He quickly unbuckles and moves to get you, gently trying to shake you awake.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he whispers, “we’re here.”

You let out a soft groan and rub your eyes. “Can’t I just stay here? It’s so comfy.”

You snuggle deeper into the seat, and Jack thinks he will die. You look so goddamn adorable, and it’s driving him insane that he can’t kiss you.

“Sorry baby,” the nickname slips before he can stop it. “I gotta get you inside.”

He smiles at your pouty face, and he unbuckles your seatbelt. He lifts you out of the car and sets you down for a second, grabbing your things and handing you his keys before scooping you back into his arms.

You softly hum in contentment as your head lolls against his chest. Jack thinks you’ve dozed off again until you open your eyes slightly.

“You're pretty strong," you slur. “Clearly, hockey is good for a person.”

Jack lets out a deep chuckle as you snuggle deeper into his hold, and after a few minutes of struggle to get through doorways without hitting you on something and teamwork to open his door, you’re safe in his apartment.

Twenty minutes later, he’s helped you take off your makeup because he knows your skin care is essential, he’s gotten you water and Advil, and you're wrapped in his clothes and lying beneath his duvet.

As he watches you breathe, gathering a few things to sleep on the couch, he can’t help but feel a sense of protectiveness wash over him. He wants nothing more than to climb next to you, but he’ll resist.

He stares a bit longer when suddenly your eyes peel open.

“You have a staring problem, Jack.”

Your tone is teasing, but his entire body grows hot, and all he wants is to get the hell out of his bedroom. He tries to make his escape, but not before you speak again, and it stops him dead in his tracks.

“You know, I broke my own heart loving you first.”

#hockey #hockey boys #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #hockey fic #nhl hockey #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #new jersey #devils hockey #new jersey devils #nico hischier #nj devils #devils vs rangers #original writing

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togegiri · 5 months

Text

✎ᝰ ❛ Y/N'S DRAGON BUTLER ! ❜ — malleus draconia.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ featuring. malleus draconia x gender neutral reader.

.ೃ࿐ WARNINGS ! gender neutral reader. you/your and they/them pronouns is used. master is used but still is gender neutral reader. — not proofread ( 1.3k words )

content. You never knew that your drunken state would hire a dragon butler accidentally.

As the sun began to show up, the shine shoned at the blinds of your window. The alarm made a sound making you furrow your brows. Opening your eyes you slowly groaned as you stopped the beeping of your alarm as you got out of your bed.

“Ahh… my head hurts,” you complained, feeling your head hurt from having a migraine like autopilot mode. You did your usual routine, like changing to your usual working clothes, eating a simple breakfast, brushing your teeth.

Meanwhile, there a tall male looked at himself in the mirror, putting on an all black and cool looking butler uniform. On the table on the side there placed a magazine and there a male posing as a butler is seen. Looking at any imperfection he looks at himself, “there, good,” he huffs with a smile. Pride on his face as he feels that his looks are good enough.

“Ooh~ little malmal is all grown up now huh?” a small male said putting his weight on the door looking at the taller draconic like male before him. “Yes, well then I'll be on my way now.. I don't want my master to wait for me,” with that he opens the big windows. Feeling the cold winds of the day.

“Well then good luck to your job little malmal,” the vampiric like male said waving at him as the male jumped at the window. Turning into a black dragon as they flew away. The pink-black haired person chuckles, “must be nice being a youth in love~”

Back to you, you looked at the mess of your apartment that was filled with cans of beer making you sigh. Putting on a coat you take your bag as your eyes widen at the time, “uwah, I'm gonna be late.” you say as you make your way to the door of your apartment.

The dragon male placing himself infront of your apartment, as you open the door your eyes widen. A gust of wind came to your face as your eyes met with a deep shade of green ones. Breathing heavily as you blinked your eyes. 'eh?’ you thought as the dragon disappeared. Appearing as a tall, handsome male with a butler uniform, “ehh…?” you say aloud.

Malleus smiled at you, “hello, It's me, malleus draconia your dragon butler from today onwards,” he closed his eyes. Suddenly sparkles went behind him as your brain tried to compute what just happened. Thus a reason came to your head, 'ah… a dream?’

“Please do come in,”

You open the door for him, letting him walk in (hospitality is always good to have.)

“Thank you,” malleus walked in as you followed him closing the door, you sat down at the chair as he too sat down. You looked at him weirdly as you bit our lower lip feeling awkward, “so uhmm who are you?”

His eyes widen, chuckling as he tilts his head to the side, “oh? I'm pretty sure I have introduced myself already (name),” he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

“y- yeah you did… but I'm pretty sure I didnt hire a… butler you know,”

“oh…” his tone was laced with disappointment.

“I even don't remember how we met,”

His brows furrow as his lips curl up in a small pout, “you don't remember? we met in the mountains,” you tilt your head cluelessly at this, “mountains, mountains… mountains?” you repeated the words until your eyes widen remembering the events happened last night.

—

“hehe… hehe~” you laugh, your face feeling hot as you stumble upon the rocky road on the mountain. The place was scary if said by a bystander. You didn't know that, you're drunk right now. With the fog on the mountain, the trees seemingly do not have any leaves and have pointy branches.

“Oho? a human, tell me why have you come here?” malleus eyes widen seeing a human casually comes in the mountain, nevertheless in his territory. Especially in a very drunk state, “hmm? oooh? ah! hello! hello! want a drink?” you smile stupidly waving at him with alcohol on the other side of your hand.

He lets out a chuckle amuse at your actions, “I supposed why not,” you smile as you take a cup in your pocket(why did you even put that there?). Pouring him the alcohol, “Hehehe! drink up! drink up!” you encourage with a big smile on your face.

“I am, I am,” he chuckles as he drank all the alcohol in the cup in one go, “oooh! you know how to drink huh? I love it!” you giggled drunkenly patting his shoulder making his eyes widen at the contact. His surprised face turned into one with adoration.

“hahaha what an interesting human you are,” he laughs as you cocked your head to the side, “I am..? hehe thank youuu~ say you know about butlers?”

“hm? a little bit,” malleus tilts his head at the sudden topic about butler, “you should know alot more about them they—” thus you began a long rant about how great butlers and the many more facts about them. Rambling like a passionate mad man about butlers.

“Say.. Why do you live here alone?” your sudden question caught the draconic male off guard, “haha how do you know I live alone?” he asks cocking his hide to side as you smile at him, “its easy to tell you look lonely after all…”

His eyes widened at this as he smiled back at you, “well I do have some servants here but… It does get lonely from time to time, humans are… well quite scared of such things as, I,” malleus grip the cup with a little more strength as he looked down sadly. “live with me."

His green eyes looked at you with suprise as you smiled at him, “pardon me?” in his eyes suddenly you were bright and sparkling, “live with me, I'll make you meet with many people, and I promise you… you won't be lonely with me by your side malleus,” a warmth spread on his heart as he felt his face hot, “oh…”

The sake is certainly not the one for this flustered state of his.

—

“sorry but… I- …I can't keep that promise, I didn't even say I want a butler,” you mutter the last part though malleus heard it quite well. “Oh the butler part was my idea, I wanted to surprise you but… I- I see.. no worries (name), it was my fault for barging in so suddenly,” he looked down as he smiled at you sadly apologizing as he got up the chair.

Your eyes linger towards his retreating figure seeing a tear forming in the corner of his eyes feeling guilt in the pit of your stomach, ‘wait if this isn't a dream… that means!’ your eyes widen looking, remembering something as you look at the clock in your arm.

Running towards Malleus who was near the door, you yelled his name, “Malleus!” you took his wrist as he looked back at you in surprise. “Yes?”

“Can you fly?”

“y- yes?”

—

“Uwaaaah! too fast!” you say that as you feel the wind hit your face too hard. Making you close your eyes, “apologies, I didn't hear what you just said.” malleus says in his dragon form. There you sat on the back of a black dragon. “I say too fast!” he slows down.

“Right, I'll try to not be too fast,” feeling the wind slow down you open your eyes seeing the great view of the city up here, “hmm… guess I can hire him.” You say aloud making the dragon perk up, “really?”

You let out a low chuckle, “so you can hear me,” making the dragon sweatdrop. Though soon your eyes widen as you feel a bone crack in your lower back, ‘ah… this kind of transportation hurts my back.'

“oh well… I guess I could use some dragon butler plus I promise you that you won't be lonely, so might as well keep that,”

The dragon underneath you smiles feeling the same warm feeling blooming in his heart. He shouldn't have doubted you from backing away from your promise.

“Sorry for cowering away at first but I swear I'll do my best malleus,”

“Me too, I'll do my best, master,”

You smile looking at the sky. Today is a great day.

#˃ᴗ˂ . . . signed by; ren #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #twst fluff #twst imagines #twisted wonderland fluff #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia x reader fluff #malleus draconia x gender neutral reader #malleus x y/n #malleus x you #malleus x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #malleus x reader fluff

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neteyamloverr · 3 months

Text

Not Safe For Work

Pairing: MiguelxFemReader!

Summary: You are an esteemed scientist who works in the spider society Alchemax in Nueva York. Miguel O'hara is your best friend and coworker who happens to have a high sex drive this week. You tease him until he can't take it anymore.

3.1k words (Kind of unedited :b )

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, P n V, no protection! + rough(ish) sex (wrap it before you tap it irl guys pls), Switch!Miguel (but mostly dom), creampie, oral/fingering f receiving, slight choking!, Dacryphilia, pet names (Cariño, Hermosa)

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to write this😭School was kicking my ass and a lots been going on. But anyways, I hope you guys enjoy my first ever fanfic and please please please write me requests in my inbox!!!!

Miguel couldn’t get his mind off of you.

It felt strange for him to admit that, even though he was your best friend. For him to admit that he was craving you, that he was feeling needy, it felt so…embarrassing. He wakes up to the thought of your body every morning, ashamedly stroking himself in the shower before work and imagining his hand was yours. But he wanted more than just the sad release of his own fist. He needed you

*****

You arrive at work early, wearing your favorite new formal suit. Your short pencil skirt especially, was tight in all the right places, accentuating the shape of your body. It had only become your favorite suit because you noticed it got Miguel the most hot and bothered compared to your other outfits. Over the last few weeks you’ve been wearing slightly more and more revealing things, breaking the lab safety code. Off the shoulder and cleavage-showing shirts, skin tight dresses, mid thigh and mini skirts. Your heels especially were a violation of the safety code with them being tripping hazards themselves. Walking into your shared lab, bag in hand, you see Miguel and walk over to his desk

“Hey Migs” you whisper in his ear, bending over to look at his computer as he types. He immediately stops typing when he feels your warm breath on his ear. He gets flustered and feels his breathing quickening before taking in your sweet scent. “Hey, what's up?” he murmured back, a smile creeping onto his lips. His eyes scanned you from head to toe subconsciously.

“What are you working on?”

“Just going over some test results… what are you doing here so early anyways…?” he replies softly

You arrived early to get the jump on the large pile of files you had to do pertaining to the lab testing “I have some more testing to finish up and a shit ton of files to fill out for it too.” you rested your arms around his neck, your breath still tickling his cheek and chest pressed against his back

Miguel's breath hitched. Savoring the feeling of your warmth around him, he swallows the lump in his throat and shifts in his seat. His pants start to feel a little too tight. Leaning forward slightly, he tries to hide the fact that you’re already starting to turn him on. This was going to be a long day for him..

*****

Throughout the day, he had to restrain himself. You’d do little things that “unintentionally” turn him on. Every time you bend over, your lace panties show from under your short pencil skirt. Whenever you walk, your ass and thighs jiggle. Your bra is just barely a size too small, making your boobs slightly spill out of your half unbuttoned dress shirt. The way you purr his name drives him crazy. He felt himself becoming more aroused with every passing moment. His eyes follow the gentle curve of your hips, watching you walk around the lab doing your testing.

He steals glances at you, often staring for almost too long. And of course you noticed. You noticed even the slightest things about him. How his gaze drifted to your lips and their wet appearance when you applied your lipgloss. The way you walked across the office, when you bend over to pick something up and he turns his head. He felt guilty for looking, but he couldn’t help himself.

He imagines how you look naked, though your suit doesn't leave much to the imagination. He imagines what it’d feel like to be inside you, or to have you riding his face;How you'd sound moaning his name from your pretty lips while he eats you out. He wants to know what it would feel like to sink his teeth into your neck, to make you feel so good you cry. His hard bulge strained against his pants but he tried not to show it. You weren't getting the verbal reaction you wanted out of him so you came up with an idea. Suddenly there was a light thud. Your lipgloss fell onto the floor and rolled somewhere.

“What was that- oh” You bent over, getting on your knees to look for it underneath the desk. You groan in frustration and arch your back as you reach your arm under, “struggling” to get the lipgloss. He notices…but this time, he could barely hold his composure.

His pulse was racing.

His palms were sweaty.

His breath was shallow.

He couldn't believe this…It was just a simple excuse to drive him crazy, right?

Your arching back, your exposed ass…You didn't want to pick up the damned lip gloss. You did this on purpose he realized.

A small moan escaped him at the sight of under your skirt. Miguel grips the arms of his chair firmly while his toes curl in his shoes at the slight friction against the fabric.

“God damn it…”

“Miguel…you okay?” when you hear something like a moan out of him, you become concerned, or at least that’s what he thinks.

“You're doing it on purpose aren't you…” he chokes out.

“What are you talking about..? I don't-” You’re “confused” by what he's saying and you get up from under your desk, seeing that he's turning red and has sweat dripping from his forehead.

Immediately, you walk over to him feeling his face and forehead to see if he's hot. “What happened to you? You’re burning up.”

“You happened to me…You keep on teasing me on purpose. The way you bent over, the suit you wore today, the way you keep touching me…don't act like you don't know what im talking about”

He doesn't want to scare you off with his desperateness but he's struggling not to bend you over his desk and just take you right there.

You struggled to think of an explanation quickly as he called you out “Well I just-” He caught you in a lie.

“You're not making this easy for me” he whispers, his breathing quickening. At this point he could feel himself throbbing.

“I never expected you to react that strongly…” you say under your breath folding your arms and looking down at his sitting figure.

With you standing between his open legs, he traces your body with his fixed gaze, unashamedly this time. He pulls you by your wrist and rests his hands on your hips, caressing your body up and down slowly. He holds his forehead to your stomach and groans in frustration as the sweet smell of your perfume clouds his thoughts

“No puedo más- no puedo más-” he mutters under his breath

He’s interrupted by your knee coming in contact with his crotch between his legs and his mouth falls open to your proximity. “Fuck-” he inhales sharply. He clenches his jaw so tight, he's sure he almost broke a fang. You smile as you finally get the verbal reaction you were waiting. As Miguel rips open your dress shirt, the buttons fly off, kissing around your stomach and giving in to your efforts to tempt him.

Your heartbeat quickens and your breaths become slightly labored. This was exactly what you wanted; For him to be at your beck and call. Standing up slowly, he went from looking up at you to looking down at you. Your figure was significantly smaller than his and he towered over you by more than foot. Miguel becomes more desperate by the minute, not hesitating to ravage you, kissing your neck and whispering in your ear how much he needs you. “Te necesito tan malo…” he muttered. (I need you so badly…)

He throws the stacks of paper off of his desk while still kissing your neck and his large hands lift you up onto it, gripping your hips tightly. You let out a slight moan of content while holding his head to your neck. His lips trail kisses down your neck, to your breasts where he takes one nipple into his mouth. He feels you shudder beneath him as he continues to tease your nipples while his other hand finds his way under your skirt, rubbing your clit through the fabric of your panties and tights. Miguel could feel the fabric becoming soaked

After leaving your chest with hickeys and bruises, he slowly gets onto his knees, now looking up at you again, silently asking if it’s okay to continue. You give a slight nod and lazily, he starts to pull down your skirt but just after, he impatiently rips a hole in your tights and pulls aside the thin white lace panties you were wearing. Your expensive tights are now in ruin because of the man down on his knees for you.

“Miguel those were expens-oh god…” The sentence faded into a slight moan.

You brought your hand down to his hair pulling slightly as he worked his way down, kissing your stomach again. You’re surprised when he throws your legs up over his shoulders and it makes your walls flutter around nothing while he nips and bites at your inner thighs, leaving behind dark reddened marks. He lifts his head up slightly to say:

“I’ll buy you new ones cariño, I promise”

He immediately buries himself between your legs again. This time instead of kissing your thighs, he works his tongue. He licks a stripe up the length of your cunt, tongue flicking against your clit, earning whimpers and moans of his name from your sweet lips. “Miguel…” You instinctively buck and grind your hips against his mouth. His mouth and chin were wet with your slick but he didn't care because God did he love the taste of you. He ate you out like a starving man, slurping up every bit of your juices.

In fact, he really was starving. He was always eager to taste you but never knew how to admit it to you. His hands gripped the outside of your thighs tightly. Miguel pushes his tongue inside of you and tilts his head up with a lustful look in his eyes. He pulls back slightly, with a string of saliva between his mouth and your wet entrance. He swears he could get himself off and cum in his pants just by hearing you moan and squirm against his face.

Suddenly his thumb gently rubs circles over your clit and slips 2 digits inside you. You gasp in surprise, arching your back and grabbing a fist full of his hair. You pushed his face further between your legs as he worked his tongue and fingers in tandem;They pumped in and out of you at a fast pace, all while he was sucking at your clit.

Your legs close in around his head and heat pools rapidly in your lower abdomen, spreading like wildfire while your legs start to shake. Strings of curses leave your mouth as your orgasm approaches, but just as you feel your release sneaking up on you, Miguel takes out his fingers and pulls his face away with a slight pop. He ended your high rudely.

“...Fuck!...Miguel? What was that for??” you exclaim before you barely catch your breath

He licks his two fingers clean of your slick

“Don't worry, I’m not done yet.”

He hastily loosens the buckle of his belt and in one swift motion pulls down his boxers and dress pants, freeing this hardened length. Precum was already dripping from his aching tip.

It’s risky to be fucking out in the open of his office like this but after how you made him feel, he needed this. You both did. Miguel pushes your back down onto the desk and its sudden coldness makes you shiver. Eager to be inside of you, he steps between your legs and holds up your already shaking thighs and positions himself at your entrance.

As he eases into you, he pushes your thighs further and further in towards your stomach, completely exposing you so he could see the way your wetness coats him. You gasp and your walls tighten even more so than before

“Fuckkk you’re so tight…” he groans

Miguel buries himself inside of you before pulling out and thrusting back in again at a painfully slow pace. You could tell he was getting you back for the teasing you put him through the entire day. But just when you’re about to ask him to speed up, he does. It's like he read your mind. His hips thrust forward into yours. As eager as he is, he's trying to restrain himself so he doesn’t end up hurting you by accident.

He has to be at least 8 or more inches;Quite girthy too. Every time his cock slammed into you, his tip hit your cervix. It was almost too much to handle, but you tried not to say anything. Well…it's not like you could anyways. He was fucking you dumb and you couldn’t even form sentences. Your body felt like it was burning up at the core and his office desk creaks beneath you with each thrust he makes. You just hoped the walls weren't thin because if they were, that was a one way ticket to getting fired.

Miguel bent forward while still pounding the life out of you, kissing and nipping at your chest again. It sends you over the edge. “T-Too much Miguel…” He pulls his face away and looks at your expression, distorted with pleasure, sweat dripping from your forehead and eyes rolling back. He puts a hand gently around your throat. “You can take it querida, just a little longer~” he whispers into your ear and you moan in response, mouth agape. He feels so good that you start to tear up.

“Shhh…You're doing so well for me…” He hushes and praises you with his sweet words as his thrusts become sloppy and unrhythmic and you’re both nearing your orgasms. A white ring of your mixed juices forming at the base of his shaft

The noises of his hips slapping against your ass and the lewdness of both of your moaning fills the room. Still holding your thighs to your stomach, he leans forward and rests your calves over his shoulders so he can drive himself deeper into you. He then reaches down between your legs and rubs your clit roughly, chasing his high, eyes rolling back in his head as he feels your walls contract and squeeze his cock. “I want you to look at me hermosa…I wanna see your pretty face when you cum for me” he groans

He knows you're close so he positions himself to be brushing your g-spot every single time he pumps into you. Your thighs shake and you press your nails into his back but he's too pussy drunk to care. You scream out his name and tears fall from your eyes as your orgasm rips through your body. With the way you were sucking him in, and the moans you got out of him, you were practically milking him. Seeing your body spasming, writhing in pleasure under him, all while you look at him with tears in your eyes, god that really does something to him.

Miguel growls as he feels your orgasm wash over you, pushing deeper into you, hips shuddering. His own orgasm soon follows, pulsing hotly inside you as he groans out his warm release, eyes squeezing shut while he mumbles incoherent spanish and pathetic moans into your ear. The two of you are panting and exhausted and he lets his body collapse on yours

“You did so good for me” he whispers and litters your face in kisses

He pulls out slowly with a groan, a stream of his cum flowing out from your slit and onto the desk. You both made quite a mess

“You’re so pretty when you cum for me, you know that?” He smiles seeing your flustered reaction and takes your sore calves off of his shoulders.

“Miguel!” You playfully slap his shoulder. “You shouldn’t say those things…”

“Even prettier when you cry too” he teases

He laughs at your response and kisses your face one more time “Come on lets get’s get you cleaned up”

Miguel helps you sit up on the desk and grabs a small towel from his half bathroom, damp with water. He spreads your thighs apart and wipes them off along with his desk, looking down at you with a soft expression on his face.

You wince at the coldness of it but appreciate his gentle gestures. You never thought he could be so gentle. He was always stern and serious, always rough.

“Sorry, I’ll try to hurry up.”

After he cleans you off, he cleans himself off and dresses again. He gives you one of his lab coats since y’know…he kinda ripped your clothes earlier. He thought it looked so cute on you, oversized and almost dragging on the floor

Carrying you to the couch of his office, he kisses your forehead and covers you with a small blanket so you can rest your body. He really did a number on you. You don’t even think you’ll be able to walk for a for a few hours…

“You should try and sleep. Ill wake you up in an hour or so”

“But what about the testing-”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it”

You nod and he looks at you almost lovingly and brushes the hair out of your face. He stayed by you until gave in to your exhaustion and fell asleep

A/N: I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED MY FIRST FANCICTIONNN 🫶🏾 (Dick so good he put you to sleep LMAO) I dont actually know when Ill have the time again to write but I’ll keep you all posted. Please please please leave me advice and most of all requests for inspiration!! 🙏🏾See you in a while!!

#miguel o'hara #smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #fluff #fanfic #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #atsv fanfiction #new writter #writing #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel smut #mcu fanfiction #mcu smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel 2099 #miguel x y/n

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maltesejjong · 1 month

Text

after being ia for so long, and losing the passwords to my original tumblr and wattpad accts, i am happy to say i am BACK, even if you don’t know who i am lmao. For now, imma be doing reposts of my old tumblr and wattpad posts before i start new content. Enjoy!

꒰ঌ(⃔ ⌯' '⌯)⃕໒꒱

What’s Really Going On?

Summary: you and you boyfriend Minho have been together for a while now. Years, as a matter of fact. There’s no reason for there to be secrets, especially when it comes to your body. But after missing an appointment you had been anticipating and tension from an argument nights prior still brewing, the truth comes spilling out

WARNINGS: dom!minho, afab!reader, oral sex (both receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please y’all don’t be stupid), use of traffic light system, fingering (reader receiving), swearing, mentions of pregnancy complications, i think that’s it? Please lmk if i missed anything

Wc: 5971

MINORS DNI, THIS CONTAINS 18+ CONTENT

5:30 pm

You sigh and pocket your phone. Fifteen minutes. He's fifteen minutes late.

Of course, he's been late before, but never like this.

Fifteen minutes, you normally let slide. You just can't imagine that he'd be late when today is so important.

"Y/n! Babe!"

You turn at the sound of your name, and somewhere in you, even though it's not fair, you think eighteen minutes.

Nevertheless, you pocket your frustration and smile the smile only he can draw from you.

"Minho!"

He comes up to you, putting his arm around your waist and kissing your cheek. "I'm so sorry, baby. Traffic was horrible," he explains.

You understand, of course. It's a random Wednesday, but a major band is in town, and 500 lucky people in the area got free tickets.

But that isn't why today is so important to you.

"Why didn't you leave sooner?" You ask, slightly miffed that he ignored your suggestion to stay the night with you, so you would both be on time.

Minho doesn't answer, but you're sure you know what he's thinking. "Babe," you say, holding his arm to make him look at you, " I'm not mad, okay? It was just a bit...much." You bite down in the apology trying to jump from your lips, knowing it could just do more damage.

"What?" He looks slightly confused, as if he forgot the argument you two got in a few days ago. "Oh," he says as the memory resurfaces, "I know. I'm just thinking. Nothing bad, y/n. Just work stuff."

"Okay..."

You arrive your appointment with ten minutes to spare, feeling thankful for the cop that had created a barricaded lane for people not going to the concert, making it easier to navigate the traffic-choked streets of your usually quiet city.

"Wait here," you whisper to Minho. "Hi," you say as you approach the lady behind the desk, "I have an appointment with Mia Loffe."

The secretary, who you've never seen a day in your life at Mia's, types something on her keyboard. "Of course... Let me see... Okay, what's your name, dear?"

You swallow the reaction trying to escape at being called "dear" by someone so young. "Y/n Bang."

"Bang... Bang..." she mumbles to herself, searching what must be a busy schedule. You know Mia's been slammed with work, but she made sure there there was at least an hour for you to come in.

You even booked an appointment, something you never do with Mia, just in case.

"Okay, um, Ms.Bang?" Dread fills your stomach. "It says here that some things had to be rescheduled, but Ms. Loffe has maybe ten minutes, if you'd like to pop back there real quick."

"I, uh... No, that's alright," you say, knowing that Mia is probably getting ready for her next appointment. You don't hold it against her for not letting you know that between last night and today, there was a shift in schedule. "Can I leave a message with you? I don't want to call her while she's working. Will you please just tell Mia to call me when she's not busy?"

The secretary scratches the note onto a pieces of paper and sticks it onto her computer. "Of course. Is there anything else I can do?"

"No," you say, trying to fight the sinking feeling in your chest. "No, thank you though. Have a nice day."

"You, too, Ms. Bang."

You round the corner to see Minho scrolling through his phone. "C'mon," you say quietly.

Minho looks up at you. "Hey." He stands up. "Did Mia kick you out or something?"

You don't answer, except to say "There was a change in schedale, so i'm comine back another You don't answer, except to say "There was a change in schedule, so I'm coming back another day." You can't help but feel annoyed at your boyfriend for his lateness. Mia had even said to make sure you were there at least thirty minutes beforehand, just in case. This, you feel, is largely Minho's fault.

Minho picks up that you don't really want to talk, and doesn't pry as you drive back to your place together.

"Babe," Minho says softly once he's closed your front door, "What's wrong?"

You keep your back to him, trying to contain your feelings. "Nothing, Minho. I'm just a little tired," you lie.

"Why don't you change, and we can watch a movie?" He suggests. "I'll order takeout later, okay?"

You agree, and go change into one of his hoodies and a pair of shorts. When you come back to the living room, you see that your boyfriend's hands have not been idle. He set up a little nest of blankets and pillows on the couch, just the way you like it when you watch movies together, snuggled in close and pressed against one another.

"Is this okay?" He asks when he hears you behind him. "I wasn't sure how much you wanted snuggles, but..." he trails off as he turns and takes in your outfit. No matter how often Minho has seen you wear something of his, it gives him a rush every time.

Clearing his throat, he says "What do you want to watch?" Your ongoing agreement is that you get authority over movie snacks, and he gets authority over what food gets ordered. You both always pick what the other likes most, though, and you switch off who gets to pick the movie.

"I don't really care," you say dismissively. "You can choose. I just want muddy buddies and popcorn."

He smiles warmly, hiding his concern behind deep chocolate eyes. "Choi's alright?"

You nod, as he knew you would. "Don't forget the crab ran-goons and crispy beef," you say, putting a bag of popcorn into the microwave and nuking it.

"Oh, and egg rolls."

"Babe, I got it," he teases. "You act like I haven't known you for twelve years."

"And loved me just as long," you say to yourself, remembering the day your older brother, Chan, came home with his newfound friend, someone named Lee Minho. It wasn't the fact the he was Korean. No, Chan had lots of Korean friends, and you had you fair share. It wasn't his name. It wasn't his age or complexion.

It was his eyes. The way his nose crinkles when he smiles. It was how he acts like the mom of the group, even to the guys older than him, reminding someone to put on sunscreen, or, more often than not, cooking for everyone.

Later, it was also the way he started to look at you, like you weren't "Chan's kid sister" but a girl worth his attention, even though you're three years younger than him. It started as getting more "older brother" attention than the others. Then, you learned what flirting is. It became shy touches and bold smiles. Inside jokes and feeling jumpy if Chan was there when you were together. It became hidden kisses and climbing onto one another's rooftop in the middle of the night to watch the stars and talk. It became Chan walking in the room right when your lips touched Minho's, blouse slightly unbuttoned.

The microwave beeps, bringing you out if your trip down memory lane. Carefully picking the hot bag up by a corner, and reaching for the bowl you had put on the counter. You sigh as the smell of butter and salt taunts your stomach. You hear sounds from the TV as Minho skims past different movies.

Minho glances over his shoulder at you while you shake some ttekboki into a bowl. You can feel the worry and questions rolling off him. It took years for you to recognize the care, hidden beneath such a brash and forceful facade. He always plays his emotions close to vest, but knows how and when to pull back. That hasn't changed, except now, he has a heart that's completely open to you.

"What did you choose?" you ask, coming into the living room.

He's standing in front of the TV, arms crossed, remote pointed at the screen. "Action movie?"

"Okay," you say, setting the snacks onto the ottoman.

You lose yourself in the movie, and eventually, you don't even notice what's going on in the plot, because, as always, you re more tuned in to the Minho show. Every point where your bodies touch, his warmth, this feeling of security. You smile as his lips touch your neck for what must be the tenth time.

"I'm gonna put the order in," he says, his words warming your skin.

"Okay," you mumble, somewhat sleepily. "I'm taking a bathroom break."

He nods, his phone to his ear.

When you come back, you decide to get some water. You go to the kitchen and reach into the dish rack to get a glass. You aren't really paying attention, and nick your finger on the knife you washed this morning, after cutting an avocado. In your preoccupation with your appointment with Mia, you had left the knife pointing upwards.

"Shit," you yelp, waving your hand.

Minho comes into the kitchen. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Just cut my finger," you say, sucking on the cut, blood staining your tongue.

He gently pulls your finger away and examines the cut. "It's not deep," he says, sounding relieved. "Here." He turns the knob on the sink, and water starts flowing from the faucet.

You gingerly put your finger under the water, hissing at how cold it is. Minho stands behind you, his chest touching your back as he massages your hand under the chilly water.

"You gotta be more careful, y/n," he says with a slight laugh.

You ignore his words, and instead focus on the feeling of his fingers kneading your hand, his breath on your skin. Your pulse quickens predictably. As it always does with him.

"Thanks, babe," you say, gently pulling away, trying to calm yourself, but not entirely sure you want to.

Minho opens the medicine cabinet, searching for a band-aid. "Food'll be here in about half an hour. Maybe 45 minutes," he says, his back to you.

Something in you says "fuck it" and you go over, hugging him from behind.

You feel his muscles jump, but his voice is steady as he says "Hey, pretty girl. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you say, your cheek pressed against his back. You know you should talk to him about the appointment with Mia, but you don't want to. Not yet. You have other things on your mind.

You stand on your tiptoes and press your lips to the back of Minho's neck. He brings his arms down, abandoning his search for a bandage. "Babe?"

"Minho," you say quietly, in the same tone you use every time you're feeling a little naughty.

You can hear him swallow. "Y/n?" He turns to face you and you look into each other's eyes.

After a moment, you lean forward and kiss him, keeping your lips closed. You know he finds this as both an annoyance and a turn-on.

When you pull away, you see confusion in your boyfriend's gaze as he tries to decide which route to take. You know that he's going to wait to see what you do first.

Looking him dead in the eye, you say "Stop being such a gentleman." The code word you use to let him know what mood you're in.

You know he's decided to go with it, that he wants this too, when he says "I've never known a lady who doesn't wait for the man to make the first move."

He kisses you, hard. No playing around, no lead-up. You know this is going to get rough. Just how you like it.

He's still leaning against the counter, and you wrap your arms around his neck, feeling his tongue meet yours. You make some vague noise at the back of your throat as he somehow manages to kiss you even deeper. His hands grip the hem of his hoodie that you're wearing, and he pulls it over your head.

"Thought so," he murmurs against your mouth.

You aren't wearing a shirt. Somehow, no matter what, he always knows. One of the Minho mysteries you have yet to figure out.

Not wanting to waste any time, you yank his shirt over his head. He laughs, tousle-haired and swollen-lipped. You trail your fingers over his lean torso, one of the many results from years of dance. You love that he's a dancer, that he couldn't give less of a shit about stereotypes. It's sexy as hell.

You lean into him, forcing him to practically bend backwards, kissing him as roughly as you possibly can. He slips a hand into your waistband, his fingers teasing. You bunch his hair into your fists, knowing he won't go any further.

Not after the other day.

Not unless you tell him to.

His touch is like fire, burning into your skin. You moan slightly against his lips as his fingers slowly move to your clit, waiting to see if you'll stop him.

You don't.

What you do do is drag your fingers down his chest to his jeans, and start to unbutton them. Something you've done so many times that you could do it with one finger and your eyes closed.

Except.

There's a nervousness zapping your spine and bubbling in your stomach that hasn't been there in a while, making you fumble.

Thinking that your slip is due to him, Minho starts to pull back, but you grab his wrist with your other hand, leaning back to look in his eyes.

"Don't stop," you say.

He swallows, seeming to feel the same nervousness.

He nods and places his lips on yours, kissing his way down your jaw and to your neck, his lips gentle while his fingers are anything but, making your walls clench like crazy.

"Damn, y/n," he mutters.

"Minho... the couch. Please," you say in a strained voice.

He gathers you up and moves into the living room, a short transition in the small apartment.

You lay on your back, biting his neck, his lips, his tongue, as he works a second finger into you. Your hips lift off the couch.

"Y/n."

You look at him, seeing the question in his eyes.

You nod slowly, feeling your stomach jump. You watch him pull his fingers out, covered in your juices. He pulls your shorts down your legs, followed by your panties. He runs the same fingers that were just inside you up your ankle, your leg, to the inside of your thigh.

Minho makes eye contact with you again and you nod firmly. Yes. The green light.

He kisses the inside of your thigh, working his way to your entrance. When he gets there, you re clenching so hard around nothing it hurts. You ball your fists, trying not to make the noises so desperately trying to escape.

You wait, anticipation racking your body until he pushes your legs a little farther apart. Then he gets to work.

Finally, you can't take it anymore. "God, Minho," you moan.

"That's it, baby. Let it go. Sing for me, I want to hear that angelic voice if yours."

It feels so good. Perhaps too good. You can barely believe that you picked an argument with him over this.

You arch your back as his tongue enters your body and he makes some noise when your walls tighten even more. He pulls back and says "Relax, y/n."

"I'm trying," you mutter through clenched teeth.

As if to help, Minho starts rubbing your thigh. "No, babe, that doesn't—-" you cut yourself off, trying to get a grip. "Minho- I can't- agh-"

"Just let go, babe"

That's exactly what you're trying not to do. It's what you got so upset about on Sunday. The way you just lost control, how he encouraged it. He was a little confused, because you used to love it, the rush, the feeling, and now, he said, you're acting like it's your first time all over again. He was hurt because you called him greedy. You regret it, and you know he's going to make sure to make you such a mess and so needy that you really regret it.

One strong suck is all it takes to make you come.

You moan, grabbing at the couch as he pulls away, a devilish smirk on his face. He comes back with his fingers, shoving three fingers into your pussy, his thumb stroking your clit.

"Minho, I can't... You're gonna make me- uh!" You exclaim, coming all over his fingers.

"You know you want me," he hisses, but not maliciously. You shake your head, trembling. "Don't you?"

Again, you shake your head.

"Are you sure?"

"No. I don't want—"

"I can't hear you." He pushes his fingers even deeper.

You bite your lip, trying to pull him closer so you can kiss him, but he just raises an eyebrow in that way that drives you wild and pushes his fingers against your walls.

"One more chance, y/n. You know you want me, don't you?"

Yes," you gasp out. "I want... so bad..."

He smirks. "Who's the greedy one now?"

"Me," you pant. "Greedy bitch. I know. I'm such a dirty-"

"Keep going," he says.

"Dirty ho." Your clit aches painfully against his fingers as a fourth stretches it out. "So... such a- a slut,” you pant, somewhat hysteric.

"Mmm. You can do better than that."

You push him onto his back, yanking his jeans and boxers away.

"There you go," he says.

"In me," you beg. "Please?"

"Hmm.. I don't think you've said 'thank you' yet."

You start kneading around his dick. "Why should I?"

“I require payment," he says, his voice still so steady.

You cup your hand around his erection and start moving up and down. You take the tip of him in your mouth, tongue circling as you suck gently.

"Good girl."

You decide to show no mercy and suck as as you can, making him groan.

"Y/n. I can't-"

"To bad," you snap. "Try."

"God, you're so hot when you're fired up."

"Stops fighting."

"Oh, but then there'll be nothing left for you."

"There always is," you reply. "I’ll even be nice and help you," you say, right before he lets go and comes all over your hand and chin. "There's a good boy."

He pretends that he didn’t whine at the pet name. “Shall we call it even?" He asks, even though you know he's in no way finished.

"Oh, no," you say. "I'll let you choose."

"On your back," he orders. You comply. "And get the bra off. Stop acting like you're some innocent angel."

You drop your bra to the ground, right before he starts kissing your neck, his hands squeezing your breasts.

He moves to sit on your stomach, and you know what's coming. He holds his hand under your chin, and you spit into his palm, obliging. He uses your spit as a lubricant for his dick before he positions it between your tits, moving them back and forth, rubbing against him.

You feel him go hard almost instantly and smile inwardly. You knew he wasn't done yet. He's never down for the count that early on.

"Minho. Stop wasting time."

He raises his eyebrow again. "Who's in charge here?"

“Asshole,” you spit out. “I just fucking tolerate your orders.”

He hums in consideration. "What do you think?”

You stroke the tip of his dick, making him shudder. "Fuck me, Lee Minho. Show me what you've got."

The second you say it, you wish you could take it back.

"Challenge accepted."

This is going to be a long night.

ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆

You're leaning against the arm of the couch, watching your boyfriend enthusiastically eat a bucketful of shrimp lo mien the same way he had eaten you out not too long ago.

"You hungry?" He asks, using his chopsticks to gather the noodles into his mouth.

"Mmm. Maybe later. I'm just exhausted. Tired."

"But not tired of me, right?"

You flash him an amused look. "Unfortunately not." Your entire body is sore, your legs are weak as hell, and your clit is pounding with pain. You give him an appraising look. "You seemed to hold your own longer than usual."

Minho shrugs, mouth full of noodles. His hair is a tousled mess, his bare chest and neck covered in hickeys and teeth marks. You're sure that you're no different.

You tug the sleeves of his hoodie down over your hands and pick up your phone. "Oh, fuck," you say, realizing that you have a missed call.

"What's up?"

"Mia tried calling me earlier," you tell him. "But..."

"You were a bit busy," he supplies with a shrug. He twists away from you to grab another carton of lo mien, and you see that his back is bright red and covered in scratches. You reach out and trace a puffy red line, feeling him shiver under your touch.

"God, babe. Your fingers are freezing."

You trace another line, realizing that there are tiny beads of blood on his back. "Holy shit. Minho. Baby. Why don't you ever stop me?"

He shrugs, opening the lo mien. "I'm fine with it. I like it. You seem to like it. It also kinda kills the mood.

"But if it hurts—"

"It dushnt," he tells you, noodles hanging from his mouth like octopus tentacles.

"Still. What if I scratch too hard and actually cut you instead of just scraping the surface of your skin? Stop acting like 'the mood' is more important that your health."

He doesn't meet you eyes as he quietly says "Are we really going down this path again?"

You sigh and push your fingers into your hair.

"Maybe. Yes. I don't know!"

"Babe. I don't really know what you want me to say anymore. I told you not to worry about me."

"I'm not just worrying about you, Minho. I'm also thinking about me."

He twirls his chopsticks in the lo mien container. "Do you, y/n? Because you seem to have a tolerance the size of fucking Kilimanjaro. You never tell me to stop, even if, quite frankly, I'm exhausted and can't keep going. But I do. I do for you."

You feel your neck getting warm. "Well maybe it's your own fault for not telling me you need to stop."

"I do, though. I do, and you listen when I tell you I'm out. I'm more so a bit ticked off that you never tell me to stop. Do you remember what I said to you all that time ago? Did you even care? Because that was me, caring."

You close your eyes, remembering the color system that he devised for you, signals as to when to tell him to stop, if something he's doing hurts. "Yes, Minho. I remember. But I said that also goes for you! And you-"

"Use it when I really need to," he interjects.

"Well... well maybe I just don't really need to, then," you huff.

He cocks an eyebrow, and you tell yourself it's just an eyebrow, not a sexy move from your boyfriend. Definitely not something that turns you on.

The truth is, you've always been scared to use the light system. It's always green. Green means go. Even though you and Minho had had feelings for each other since you were in primary school- the last year, but still— that didn't stop him, who was three years older, from meeting other girls and going out with them, and you didn't try to stop him. You yourself went out on dates, kissed guys and did everything short of getting fucked for real. You wanted Minho to be the one to get your cherry. And he didn't disappoint.

Through it all, though, he had plenty of experience, experiences that you couldn't compete with unless it was oral. He told you green light means all good. Yellow is "I need a break" and red is stop. No questions asked. Whatever you're doing ends and you do something that doesn't involve sex. Red and yellow both mean "this hurts, I'm uncomfortable" of some degree.

Though you've definitely needed to, you've been worried about how Minho would react if you tell him to stop. It's one of the other reasons you argued with him on Sunday, but he doesn't know it. You made it seem like he just takes and takes, when really, it was that it hurt. You couldn't keep going, even though it hadn't even been 15 minutes when the pain kicked in. You were embarrassed. He was able to go on for God knows how long, and you weren't lasting anywhere near as close as him that day.

The look Minho gives you tells you that he's calling BS.

"Y/n."

You look at him. "Minho?"

"Look." He's always down his container of noodles and shrimp. "I know that's not the case. Why don't you try telling me what's actually up."

A spark of frustration heats your chest. "What's up, Minho, is that, thanks to you being late, we missed our appointment with Mia!"

Minho leans forward, massaging his temples. Finally, he drops his hands, his elbows balancing on his knees, and he looks over at you. "Is that what this is all about? I'm not ignoring the fact that you're dodging my question, but why didn't you say something to me?"

"Because... because it's just-"

"Not worth it? Babe, clearly it is. You wouldn't even tell me why this appointment was so fucking important to you. So important that I had to be there, which I found odd, because you usually tell me you want to see Mia alone. Which is fine, because I know that's the only girl time you two get together, so I found it strange that you wanted me there."

You clench your fists, hidden from view by the long sleeves of your boyfriend's hoodie, trying not to explode.

"And," he continues, "you still haven't told me the full story as to why you were actually upset on Sunday. You just called me greedy and said you weren't in the mood anymore. So please, please, will you tell me what's wrong? What's been going on?"

"I..." you look into his amber eyes, trying to fight the truth.

Minho puts a hand on your knee. "Y/n. Baby. Please."

The words come spilling out. "It's not that you're greedy. It's not that I don't enjoy the sex anymore. It's that... it's that I'm scared," you blurt. His expression is startled, incredulous as you go on.

"I'm scared to tell you no. To tell you to stop, that something hurts. It makes me feel like shit, when something hurts and I start to feel tired by the fifteen minute mark when you haven't even gotten started. It's not every time. But that's what was happening on Sunday. Sometimes it makes me ashamed, how much I just... it's like I'm a different person when we have sex. Sometimes I don't recognize me. Like, I turn into a mess. You turn me on like that" —you snap your fingers— "and somehow, you get me to cum four times in less than half an hour. I needed to feel justified in my feelings of 'I can't anymore' and I was scared to flat out tell you to stop, so I told you that you were being greedy and it was a turn off. And I'm sorry, Minho. I'm so so sorry for calling you greedy and disgusting. The truth is, I feel greedy and disgusting, wanting so badly, wanting so much, when I can't go on, or when you need a break. Sometimes I feel annoyed that you need to stop." You bury your face in your hands. "God, I'm such an asshole." You try to prevent the tears prickling behind your eyes.

"Y/n. Look at me. Please." You lower your hands to see Minho. "I'm sorry. Babe, why haven't you said something? If it hurts, if I'm hurting you, then you should tell me. If you can't anymore, tell me. Yellow light. Red light. Doesn't matter. Don't feel ashamed, okay? To tell you the truth, sometimes I can tell you're tired, but I'm never sure whether or not I should slow down and stop because you never tell me to, and I worry about accidentally offending you. I don't want you to think I'm assuming you're weak."

"Anyone that can ride Lee Minho for even fifteen minutes cannot be weak," you joke.

"Point taken. As for being a totally different person during sex? Well, yeah, you're gonna act differently when you're fucking. Think about it: do you go around constantly calling yourself a dirty ho and greedy bitch when you're at work?"

You don't say anything.

"I mean, unless you're getting it on with a coworker. Then we might have some problems."

That gets a laugh from you. "God, no. No, Minho. I understand what you're saying. It just... I feel ashamed and dirty after the fact. Like 'was that really me'?"

He smiles gently. "Yes, and I get that. But you have to know that there's no reason to feel that way. I don't think any less of you. And, in case you don't remember, you aren't the only one yelling and moaning and talking dirty, okay? You also aren't the only one that gets turned on instantly and cums a billion times. Then again, I, personally, can't really help it."

You smile again, that special smile that you save for him.

"Now. What about this appointment with Mia?"

The smile drops from your face as a slight panic sets in. "What about it?"

"Baby, please don't shut down now. Keep this going, okay? Why were you so upset to miss a meeting with Mia?"

You bite your lip, contemplating. "I... I'm maybe... something came up, and she... she's had a few times dealing with this with other people and knows what to do and I wanted you there so we were on the same page."

"Okay," he says slowly.

You feel your hands start to shake. "I guess it has to do with why I was so punchy these past few weeks..."

"Oh. I though it was PMS."

You shake your head. "No. Maybe a little bit, but mainly no. The truth is.." you hesitate, trying how best to go about this. "I have a rare immunodeficiency."

Minho looks at you with disbelief. "What?"

"I... I have a rare immunodeficiency," you repeat shakily.

"What is it? How did you find out?"

"Well... I actually found out from... from us having sex."

Minho's eyes widen. "Have I somehow gotten you sick? What happened? Does this have to do with why it hurts you so much?"

"No, I'll explain in a second, and possibly." You look down at your hands. "Let me ask you this: you'd say we're usually pretty... careful, right?"

He nods. "If I remember correctly, told me to download that app that tracks your cycle so we both have a record of your ovulation schedule and know what days to avoid completely. And you regularly remind me to make sure I have condoms both here and at my place and you have some sort of birth control, but you stopped taking it because it was causing some sort of issue, so no more of y/n's birth control. Correct?"

You nod. "But we're only human, and even technology can't predict something that fluctuates like a woman's period. Because it does change."

Again, he nods. "True... Wait." He looks up at you, lips parted. "Are you..?"

You shake your head. "No, babe. I'm not pregnant. Not anymore."

"Anymore?"

You nod. "Yes. I've technically been pregnant five times in the past two years."

Your boyfriend stares, mouth agape.

"After the fourth time, I went to the doctors. Do you remember how I had that constant bout of sickness?"

"I remember."

"Well.." you squeeze your fingers, preparing yourself. "I was getting so sick because my body was thinking that each fetus was actually a virus. At the same time, my body was naturally like 'okay we've got a life force in here to grow and protect'. Essentially, my body was waging a two-sided war on itself. One side to protect the baby, the other trying to get rid of it."

"But why?" You can't help but be thankful for how calm he's staying.

"You're taking this remarkably well. Better than I thought you would, anyways." You hug your arms to your chest. "Explanation: my body isn't accepting your DNA."

"So, essentially, I'm making you sick. But only when you end up pregnant?"

"Exactly."

He shakes his head. "God, y/n. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I... I wasn't sure how," you say meekly. "I mean, I'd be like 'hey, babe, guess what? I'm pregnant. Surprise!' Just to be like 'Ha. Sike!I'm not pregnant anymore' within a month."

He sighs. "True. Holy fuck. Five times?"

You nod and laugh a little. "Yeah. Guess we know what that means."

He nods conspiratorially. "Yep. Probably should've listened to everyone being like 'be smart. Be safe. Always use protection', huh?" He rubs the back of his neck. "Is there a way to fix it?"

"Fertilization treatments," you say glumly. "I hear they're absolute hell."

"But it'll be worth it, right? I mean, you don't get sick and... I mean, if you don't want kids, that's fine, I just thought... I'm not saying I'm assuming anything. I mean, obviously it's your choice, I just thought..."

For the first time, you realize just how… nervous this news is making him. Your boyfriend, the always cool, calm and collected Lee Minho is a flustered and stuttering mess. It also hits you that he actually, really, truly wants kids. He wants kids... with you. Which must mean...

No. You can't get sidetracked. Whether or not he proposes is up to him. You'll always be ready to say yes.

Back to the task at hand.

"Minho. Babe, calm down. Of course it'll be worth it."

He starts shaking his head, almost frantically. "No, no, no. Don't make a decision based on me. Do it because you want to. Don't-"

You put your hand on his knee. "Hey. Deep breaths. Yes, I want the treatments."

His body sags in relief.

"I want to get this fixed. I can't have a family if my body is killing off our kids. I dare say you'd prefer it if your children actually made it out alive."

His eyes widen at your statement. You run it through your head, trying to catch your mistake.

Then you realize: you just laid out a future of togetherness, marriage, and parenthood with Minho in those three sentences.

You try to backpedal, feeling like you've overstepped, even though you've talked about a future together many times. "I just meant, if you were me— I didn't mean—"

He cups your face in his hand. "I'd prefer it if my children made it out alive," he says softly, placing a hand on your abdomen.

You smile, relieved that you've finally told him. As Minho leans in to kiss you oh so softly, you close your eyes, envisioning your future.

#lee know #lee know smut #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids smut #lee minho #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #skz ff #skz smut #lee know fanfic #Spotify

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year

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Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Seven: Better Together

a/n: here’s chapter seven of my purely self-indulgent fun — a little later than i anticipated because i was sick and got a little derailed. modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, fingering, and a whole lot of praise. (7k words)

masterlist

——

Life returns to normal after the gala. Or—mostly normal. You wake in the mornings, greet your husband as he sips his coffee, and you…don’t kiss. And it’s not like you don’t want to; in fact, you do. Really, really badly. One time isn’t enough. Suddenly you’re addicted to the taste of him, and yet you’ve only gotten the smallest hint. A tease at what could be.

When you returned to your home after the gala, Charlie greeted you both at the door with a bark and a demand for endless pets and cuddles. You’d curled up on the couch as always, you in your dress and him in his tuxedo, with Charlie sprawled out across both your laps.

Both of you had taken turns looking at one another when you’d thought the other wasn’t paying attention. Would watch Steve’s profile, count the dots on his skin, wonder if he’d lean in if you traced them with your mouth. Wondered what sound he’d make if you ventured further, southward against his neck, and trailed the marks you knew were there as well. And as you’d look down at Charlie, Steve would look at you, watching as though you were far more entertaining than any movie he’d put on.

Later that evening he’d stood by your doorway and thanked you for joining him that afternoon, leaned down and kissed your forehead, and you’d slipped into your bedroom and changed. When you returned, he remained at your bedroom door, mouth opened to speak to say something, anything, and yet no words had come out. Only the sounds of his struggle.

So you stepped forward and curled your arms around his waist. Thanked him for a beautiful night, for dancing with you, for being there for you. And then you’d closed your bedroom door and listened as Steve called Charlie into his bedroom, your own hand reaching over your bed side table to shut the lights off, enveloping the room in darkness.

It carried on like that for days.

Then weeks.

You wondered if Steve regretted it all.

——

Steve hated meetings. The endless meetings. Meetings that kept him away from home, away from comfortability, away from Charlie, away from you.

It’s a reality that crept upon him slowly, and then swiftly all at once. This realization that he’d rather jump and fall with you than never have taken a risk and jumped at all. Found himself willing to do all of that with you. Trusted you enough to be gentle with him, even despite all your teasing, your jabs, your barbs.

But now he wants to make sure you know just what this all means to him. Wants to make sure you don’t go a day without knowing that, even though his life is in a constant state of immediacy and pressure from those around him, you’re important. You’re deserving of feeling loved, appreciated, and valued every day.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Harrington,” Hailey, his assistant, asks from behind her computer screen.

“Can you have flowers sent to my address?”

There’s a knowing smile on her face as she asks, “For your wife?”

“For my wife,” he says, and though it’s been your title for months now, it makes his mouth run dry, because there’s the deeper meaning of possibly more now.

What exactly that more might be is still to be determined, but more nonetheless.

“Red roses are nice this time of year,” she muses. “Do you want me to have a card written out as well?”

——

Honey,

I’m sorry I’ve been so holed up with work. With the holidays coming up, things are extra chaotic. I know you’ve been really wanting a spa and nail day for yourself, so I made you an appointment for three tomorrow. Before you argue with me, you deserve it. Please. For me?

The card is signed at the bottom with ‘your husband,’ and you nearly crush the card stock to your chest, smiling down at the bouquet of fresh roses you’ve already set on your kitchen table.

Charlie lifts his head, collar jingling as he clambers to his feet and stops near your hip. Dropping down to your knees, you rub at his floppy ears, grin still stretching your lips.

“Charlie Boy, you really do have the best doggy dad.” He licks at your chin, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as you giggle airily. “We are pretty lucky, aren’t we?”

——

By the time you return from your massage and nail appointment, and the private elevator leading to the penthouse dings, your home already smells wonderful. And the sight that greets you—even better.

Steve’s frantically running around the kitchen, calling out, “Honey, you’re early!”

“What is happening here?” You walk into the kitchen, a little mystified as Steve rushes forward and brushes a kiss along your temple, your hand coming up to rest on his sternum in wide eyed shock. He’s already set up the kitchen table, wine glasses filled with red wine, candles lit, placemats set out and the dishes you got from your bridal shower on display. “Flowers and dinner?”

“It was supposed to be ready by the time you got home. But Charlie was acting up on his walk. I looked into those puppy training classes, but I want to go to one where I can be there with him.” He pauses, laying the towel he has draped over his shoulder onto the countertop, pulling you into your normal hug whenever you come home from quite literally anywhere. “I thought…well, I know I’ve been busy, and we haven’t exactly had a chance to spend much time together. So I figured I’d make us dinner and we could eat it, you know, together.”

You glance up at him through your lashes, noting the hand that comes up behind his neck to rub nervously. “With candles?”

“So I thought it could also—but only if you want it to—be a…date?”

“We’re married,” you point out, wanting to watch him squirm just a little bit more. Because you know what he means.

“We are, yeah. But…I figured after the gala there were some tougher conversations we might need to have. Unless you wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, which in that case I understand—”

He’s silenced by your hand gliding up and across his chest, curling at the nape of his neck, and dragging him flush against you, lips gliding softly over his own. When you pull back, his eyes flutter rapidly, tops of his cheeks staining the same color of the fresh tomatoes he has open in a container on the kitchen counter.

Brow arching, your fingers still around the back of his neck, you ask, “Need further clarification?”

“Maybe?”

He swallows, curling an arm around the small of your back. He noses at your cheek, your skin prickling in anticipation as he slots his lips over yours again. Warm, gentle, inviting. A sigh spills from you as your pocketbook drops to the ground, your other hand joining the one around Steve’s neck, chests closing in tight, hips flush together.

“Steve…you made me dinner,” you muse, smiling as his forehead rests against yours, swaying you back and forth to the music he is playing from a speaker on the countertop.

The backs of his knuckles brush the line of your temple, your cheek. “I’ve made you dinner before.”

“But not like this. With all the wine and candles.”

“Well, I was trying to make a grand gesture.”

“Just like with my little spa day?” Your heart kicks up at that. Threatens to grow wings and fly away. Because he’s gone out of the way to do this. For you—for you.

“Yes,” he admits. “I’m—I haven’t done this in a long time. I had to ask my assistant for some tips, so I hope you’ll go easy on me.”

He’s laughing, but you know Steve. You know he means his words. Know enough about him to tell that when he makes a decision, he commits to it, wants to go above and beyond, and works his hardest at it. So when he says he wanted to make a grand gesture, that he even sought out outside advice, you know he’s sincere.

And you know whatever this is, whatever is brewing between the two of you, is delicate. It needs the space to grow, to be nurtured and tended to, if only so it can bloom into all it’s meant to be. If it’s meant to be.

“Well, you’re doing amazingly,” you tell him, hands sliding down from the back of his neck to rest against his chest.

The rapid thump of his heart beats beneath your fingertips, not wholly unaffected by the newness of touch, of…whatever new shape your marriage is beginning to take on. His fingers slide over the back of yours, brushing over your knuckles, his eyes lingering on your face with an intensity that has your throat running dry.

That is, until Charlie notes your presence and barrels into the kitchen, paws slamming into your hip, demanding a proper hug. There to oblige him, you brush at his floppy ears, your side to Steve’s chest, one of his arms around you, the other also ruffling Charlie’s floppy head, pink puppy tongue lapping over unassuming fingers. Once the little guy is satisfied, you maneuver around Steve and tug your rings free from your finger, quickly washing your hands before sliding them back into place.

Steve watches you intently as you wiggle the stones into place on the digit, admiring them for a moment. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“If I’d known we were having dinner by candlelight, I’d have worn something a little nicer,” you tell him, waving a hand around your figure, to the pair of dark wash jeans on your thighs and the slouchy knit sweater that hangs a little loosely off of one shoulder. All gifts from your mother-in-law’s business.

He's still wearing his slacks, having had to go to a job site despite it being Saturday and your favorite powdery blue button up he wears. Brings out the greenness in his hazel eyes, a fact you only know because that spill you’d taken on the treadmill some weeks ago now, and the kiss at the gala, where you’d gazed into them long after he kissed you, marveling at the man.

“You look perfect,” he reassures you, gripping your shoulders and leading you into the living room. “Dinner should be ready in about thirty minutes, so you kick your feet up, I already put out your slippers and some of your cozy socks you like. And give me one second and I’ll grab you your glass of water. Oh—and here’s a blanket.”

“Steve.” You laugh as your husband whirls around you like a storm, gathering all the things he mentions as he goes. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“No, no.” He rushes back over with your water and places it in your hand. “You just relax.”

And you’re not about to argue with your husband. Not when he looks like this, hair windswept, facial hair freshly trimmed, forearms on full display because he’s spent the better part of the afternoon preparing a home cooked meal for you. For your date night.

True to his word, your meal is ready a half hour later, his form appearing before you, one hand outstretched for you to take. He helps you to your feet, making room for you at his side, and walks you the distance to your kitchen table. He’s dimmed the lights a bit more, the candle on the table bathing the room in an orange firelight. The man in question slides your chair out and gestures for you to sit despite your protesting, and pushes you in closer to the table once you’ve sat.

He then rushes around to the other side of the table and sits across from you, gesturing to the various things he has strewn about on the table.

Your bowls are already full of fresh spaghetti, sauce just the way you prefer. There are meatballs in one glass container, and cheese in another bowl beside. He’s even made garlic bread, which rests in a little basket you’d received for your bridal shower. Everything smells delicious, makes your mouth water as you lift your wine glass and raise it in the air, waiting for Steve to clink his glass against yours.

“This all looks and smells so amazing, Steve. Seriously.”

Grateful. You’re immensely grateful as the two of you start to dig into your meals, quiet chatter about your days shared over glasses of wine, spaghetti, and delicious garlic bread. He talks about the newest build on a property, and you explain your week of clinicals ahead, and the desire for your Thanksgiving break to finally approach so you can have some real time to simply relax and just be.

“That reminds me,” he begins, sipping his water. “My mom is doing Thanksgiving at her house this year. It’ll be a small event. Just my grandmother and Theobald, Cami and their kids. Unless we wanted to go back to Hawkins? It’s really up to you…I haven’t told my mom our plans.”

“My dad and Caroline are actually going to spend the weekend with my grandmother. I figured we would be doing something with your family, so I told my dad we’d be around for the holidays at some point—if that’s okay.”

“Absolutely,” he says, brushing his fingers over yours where they lay interlaced in the middle of the table. “Splitting the holidays. That was easy enough.”

“We’re getting good at this, Harrington,” you tease.

“That was my next…topic of conversation.” The status of your relationship. The questions as to what this is and isn’t. The decisions of where you go from here.

“Right.” You place your fork down against your bowl, swallowing thickly. “So there was the gala.”

“That happened.” His fingers brush yours again, a comforting sweep. Back and forth, back and forth, like a sweet little metronome. “So I guess the question is…what do we want it to mean? Because I want to start by making it clear to you that I do, uh, have feelings for you.”

Chest tightening, you grip his fingers tighter, feeling the corners of your smile tick upwards. “I have feelings for you too. So…now that we have that out of the way…”

“I want to do more of this. Buying you flowers and going out together alone. On real dates. No business obligations attached. Just spending time with you, getting to know you, exploring this.”

“I’d like that.”

“And I want to do this,” he says, squeezing your fingers. Then, he leans over the top of the table to brush your lips briefly with his mouth. “And that, if you’d like to.”

Your eyes flutter open, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m…very open to all of that.”

“We don’t complicate it with more labels.”

“We just let things happen the way they’re meant to.”

Let the pieces fall where they may. Without the pressure of placing any expectation on it. Exploring the parameters of your relationship while legally married, knowing either way at the end of it all you can go your separate ways. It’s a terrifying risk, but you know in your heart it’s worth it to at least try.

“Exactly.”

“Sounds like a deal, Mr. Harrington. We should shake on it.” He holds out his hand between the two of you jokingly, but you’re leaning in once more, breath teasing along his lower lip, and he knows you’re not interested in sealing this deal with a mere handshake. Instead, you seal it with a kiss, resting in the warmth of his skin against your own.

A little breathless when he pulls away, Steve whispers, “Pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Harrington.”

——

You’re no expert on Steve Harrington. Not by any means, even after the five months you’ve now been married. Since the moment you decide to begin a real relationship, you start to really explore the intricacies of your husband. He’s a morning person, he likes things a certain way, and he can tend to get flustered easily—though he won’t let it show. You can still sense it in the tension in his shoulders, the furrow of his brows, the clench of his jaw. And today, as you sit on your living room couch with Charlie’s head resting on your thigh, and a book on the other, you sense it in the way he walks into your home with a hollow stare.

The way he buries his face in Charlie’s neck as he enters the living room and the puppy knocks him onto the ground. The way his eyes are red rimmed as he finally extricates himself from the flailing set of paws on the ground and makes his way over to where you sit, kissing you in greeting. Your hand slides up to cup his cheek, tilting his head to look at him—to really look at him. His cheeks are damp, and your heart nearly cracks down the center at the implication there.

Briefly, you imagine your husband’s forearms straining as he grips the steering wheel in his car. Imagine the tears he must have hid in his car before coming up to see you. Because he hadn’t wanted you to see. Not really. Always so bright and loving, always so strong for you.

“Steve?” It comes out as a whisper, and he’s turning his head from you, his breath a shaky inhale as he tips his head to the ceiling. “Are you—”

“I’m going to go get ready for bed. Long day, I just want to get to bed early. Rain check on our movie?”

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, frown growing. “Sure.”

He’s gone. Disappears from the room without another word, leaving you in the solitude of the unknowing. The wondering if he’s okay, what he’s thinking, if there’s anything you can do to help improve his mood. With the click of his bedroom door in the distance, you try to focus on your book, on the television playing in the background, on Charlie’s breathing. But the longer you go without him, the more you fret. Wanting to be near him, if only to be there as a presence, as something who cares for the brooding man down the hall.

Resolve settling into place, you toss your things into the kitchen sink and make your way down the hall, gather some clothes to change into for bed, and pause when you arrive in front of Steve’s bedroom. Nervous knuckles hover over the doorway, knocking twice—and then linger. Wait as silence drapes over the room, leaving your heart to race within your chest.

“Steve…?” You call out his name into the silence, voice a little wobbly. Nervousness ebbs and flows as the silence prolongs. As you’re met with nothing but your own breathing to keep you company.

And then, very quietly, “Yeah, baby?”

The newness of the title sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. You push it away, wanting more so right now to comfort the man inside than anything else. Fingers curl around the door handle, pushing it open just enough to see the man laying there in a pair of sweatpants, room chilly from the central air, bare chest on display. His hair is in disarray, face freshly washed, hair still damp from his shower. There’s the slightest hint of his vanilla shampoo in the air, a comforting sugary sweetness synonymous with your husband.

“Can I…can I come in?” The door opens a little wider, leaving room for Charlie to prance on in, settling himself on the doggy bed in the far corner of the spacious room.

Steve lets out a long sigh, fingers curled around his phone moving to place the device on his bedside table. He slides his glasses off his face next, popping them into his glasses container, before settling back down against the fluffy pillows and offering you the slightest hint of a smile.

“Sure,” he says, a little softly, a little strained.

Heart dropping into your stomach, you glance down at the small heap of clothes in your hand, and then to the adjoined bathroom. “Do you mind if I—”

Processing your question, he shakes his head, seemingly a little faraway from you. “No, yeah. Please.”

Without another word, you slip into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you with a gentle click. A long exhale spills from your lips. Dressing quickly, you take in your reflection in the mirror. Thin sweatpants, a comfortable hoodie, face freshly washed and dried. Satisfied, you toss your clothes into the nearby hamper and slip out of the bathroom, wandering over to the side of the bed. Brows raising imploringly, Steve lifts the edge of the comforter in answer, allowing you to crawl into the space he’s created with his body.

You choose the pillow beside him. Close enough where you can feel his heat, can run your fingers along the side of his body if you wish, could lace your fingers through his. But you’re not crossing the proverbial pillow wall unless he gives permission to do so. As much as you want to.

“Did something happen at work?” you ask him, smiling as his hand reaches over and brushes along the back of your forearm.

“Just the usual. People think I’m…too young to really know what I’m talking about. Anything that goes wrong is thrown at me, and I get those looks of disappointment. And I just think if only my dad were here. If only he were here, I’d know what to do. But I don’t. I don’t and then Theo looks at me like he’s so happy to see me fucking it all up. Because that will have meant he was right.”

“That he was right?” Your head shifts on the pillow, eyes flickering up to his as he angled his head a bit and takes in the sight of your face in the dimly lit bedroom.

Shifting, he rolls over onto his side, head resting on the pillow mere inches from yours. His hands settle beside yours, his fingers brushing along the backs of yours, gently lacing them together after a moment, squeezing tight. “That I’m not ready. That I wasn’t ready. That the company should have gone to him.”

“But that’s not true, Steve. You’re a hard worker. I know you are. You sacrifice so much for everyone, even me, and they have to see all of that. They have to. No one is perfect—not all the time, anyway.” He leans into your touch, your free hand having come up in the middle of your speech to rest over the stubbly cheek of your husband.

“Thank you,” he whispers, turning just enough to press a kiss into the center of your palm. Your skin tingles in answer, smile warming your cheeks.

“Always, Steve. Always. You’re there for me, I’m there for you. It’s an even exchange.”

“You know, Theo hates me because he spent years training under my father. He spent all that time thinking the company would be going to him one day. And…I honestly thought that, too. I was shocked when I saw my name.” He pauses, mouth flattening into a straight line. Your thumb glides over his stubbly cheek once more, encouraging him to continue. “The company should have gone to him. But it didn’t. So I thought maybe my dad saw something in me that I didn’t. But every time I fuck it all up, I can just picture the face he always made when I did something wrong, and I always hated when he looked at me like that.”

“When he looked at you like what?”

“Like I was a disappointment.”

And there it is. The words that immediately wedge a knife into your heart for him. The thought of a younger Steve, wanting his father to see him for him. Not for what he could do for the company, not what he lacked, but merely for being his son. The youngest Harrington. A child to a man who expected so much of him. Placed him on a pedestal he’d never been meant to stand on, only to watch him fail time and time again in the eyes of someone who never would be happy. Not really.

“You are not a disappointment.” The vehemence in your voice shocks you. But the anger brimming in your blood is not for the man lying beside you. No, it’s for the man who no longer resides on this side of earth, and yet has engraved years of doubt within your husband’s heart.

“You’re biased.” He sighs, breaking off into a laugh. At the quick shake of your head, he continues, “It’s silly, maybe, but I thought maybe if I could just do right by the company, my father would finally be proud of me from wherever he is now.”

“Steve…” Your body burrows closer to his, sighing as an arm slides low along your waist. Pulls you closer. Close enough where you can wrap your arms around him and press your cheek into his collarbone.

He exhales deeply. “We never had a close relationship. My parents were a bit older when they had me. His form of love was a stern yell when I got a C in class instead of an A. Or pointing out every bad swing in baseball, because ‘Harrington’s are winners.’ It was only when I got older we talked more, and I think that was more so because once I was old enough to, he expected me to work for him. So I was more a worker than a son.”

“You just wanted him to notice you.” And that breaks your heart. Makes your eyes burn in a way that has you sniffing loudly.

“Silly, right?” His chest shakes with the rasp in his voice, and you grant him the privacy of his emotions, keeping your face pressed tight against his chest as he heaves with the weight of it all.

“Not at all. You shouldn’t have ever had to fight for his love. No child should. You’re his son. That should mean everything. I’m so sorry.”

“My mom and I really only got closer when he passed. I think she realized I’m really all she has left. And I wanted to resent her for it, be mad that it took him dying for her to notice me, you know? But I couldn’t.”

Sighing, you run your hands up and down the lines of his hard back, smiling to yourself when he relaxes further into your embrace. “It’s not a bad thing to want to be loved by the people who should love you the most.” Leaning back a bit to look in his eyes, you catch the softness there. Note the way his eyes flicker from your eyes and downward to your lips, then drift back up again. “We crave it as humans. And you have such a big heart, Steve. I’m not surprised you were able to be open to her, even after all the years of hurt you must have experienced.”

Huffing, he leans his forehead against yours. “You’re being too nice.”

“I am nice, Steve. I’m only partially serious when I joke about killing you in your sleep.”

That has him smiling. And though it’s only been gone a little while, you’ve missed it dearly.

His next question has you stilling within his arms. “Will you…stay?”

“In your bed? With you?”

“No, with your other husband.” He chuckles, shifting you so you sprawl out onto his blankets beneath him, giggling as his nose nudges yours.

“I have another husband?” you ask, just as his lips ever so softly coast over yours, breaking off at the first wiggle of his fingers along the span of your ribcage. Like this, you wriggle and writhe beneath him. Like this, you feel every inch of him along every inch of you. Hard lines against your softer ones. His hips against yours, his lips at your shoulder, your sides jolting with your laughter, limbs kicking out wildly to try and stop him. “Stop, stop—yes! But no pillow wall like in the Maldives.”

He leans down, and you reach up enough to kiss him. “No pillow wall. I might cuddle you, if that’s okay?”

“I'm kind of hoping you do,” you tease, rolling over onto your side as he reaches over and shuts the light, shrouding you both in impenetrable darkness.

Steve settles in beside you. Unlike in the Maldives, he doesn’t begin stacking an endless row of pillows to create a divider. No, this time he comes in close, his chest along your back. Arms looping tight around your waist, pulling you in as close as possible. Legs tangle together beneath bed sheets, fingers twine over where they rest along your midsection.

It’s quiet for a time. And then, “Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, honey?” He lets you know he’s awake with a kiss at your shoulder.

Giving his hand a quick squeeze, you whisper. “You’re a good man. I’m proud of you, and I know that might not count for much, but I am so proud of you.”

“No. No. That does mean a lot.”

“Goodnight.”

There’s another pause. Then, “Hey, Steve?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“I'm tired.” He practically moans it in your ear, face pressing into your neck. Your cheeks warm from the proximity.

“Guess no kiss before bed then.” A pout lines your lips, though you know he cannot see it.

“Fine, fine, fine I’m up.”

“Nope, now I’m tired,” you sigh, nuzzling deeper into the endless pillows on your husband’s bed.

“Get over here.” He grunts, shifting up onto his elbows. There’s barely a moment to argue, for his fingers curl around the base of your cheek and bring your face closer to his.

His mouth is warm, welcoming, and lovely before bed, you decide, eyes fluttering closed.

“Mmm,” you hum, cheeks hurting from how hard you smile as he flops back over onto his side and makes himself comfortable once more.

“Goodnight,” he says, and you can feel his smile against the curve of your jaw.

“Goodnight.”

——

With Thanksgiving about a week away, your husband becomes nearly nonexistent. He’s there, in your home, but only in the early mornings and late at night when you’re already about to fall asleep in his bed.

His bed, because that’s where you've slept for the past however many days have passed since the first time. It’s been this unspoken thing between the two of you. Be it drawing comfort in one another, wanting the nearness of another human, or just purely wanting to be held—you don’t argue.

In fact, you quite like waking up in his arms. Two people who fold themselves so tight around one another in their sleep. Bodies that seek comfort and warmth, crave it, and hold it close.

But that’s truly the only time you’ve seen him as of late. Those fleeting moments when he kisses you while you’re still in bed in the morning, and then at night just as he’s about to shut the light out for the night.

Which is why when you find him sitting in his office before work one morning, his elbows on the desk, head in his hands, you decide to take matters into your own hands to spend time with the man. Upon clearing your throat, his head tips up, eyes catching on the long tee shirt that covers your cotton shorts beneath. The hem line brushes the tops of your thighs with every step closer to him, hinting at skin that lingers beneath, coaxing him backward in his chair. His glasses are a flash of gold in the light as you clamber down onto his lap, resting your hands on his biceps, beaming down at him.

“Hi,” you whisper, biting at your bottom lip.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs, thumbing at the curve of your hips, pads of his fingers against delicate flesh.

“Been working long?”

“Few hours, yeah,” he grumbles, hooking his chin over your shoulder as you wrap your arms around his waist and press your forehead into his neck. The fingers on your hips slide up your back, trailing up and down gently, eliciting chills along your frame. “Sorry if I woke you.”

His head shifts, mouth teasing at the curve of your throat, lips tilting upward into a smirk at the little sigh that spills out on his own volition from your lips. Curious hands trail down your back, sliding over the curve of your thigh, the hinge of your hip, the soft of your tummy. Another sigh fills the quiet room, and those fingers tease at the edge of your ribcage, the sides of your waist, the curve of your sports bra.

“You’re being sneaky,” he says, breath hot against your ear, fingers spread over the dip of your waist. At your questioning hum, he chuckles, “Distracting me from work.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” you huff out, leaning back in his arms, fingers toying with the hem of his thin sweater he’d fallen asleep in. “I just wanted to spend some time with you before you went to work. Come on now, let me get some coffee for you before you go into the office, Mr. Harrington.”

His eyes roll at your teasing nickname, hand curling around your own as you rise from his lap and lead him out of the office. As you enter the kitchen, Charlie’s sleepy head raises from his paws, before he plops back down in a sleepy heap, legs and paws splayed out in front of him.

Steve remains nearby as you get to work on making your coffees, slipping in and out of the living room just long enough to gather some of the things he’ll need for his work day. Yours iced, caramel drizzled on the inside of the cup in preparation, and Steve’s ‘Dog Dad’ mug laid out on the counter (a gift you’d gotten him as a joke, but he loved it so much he kept it and insisted on using it every morning).

You catch him slipping on a button down shirt out of the corner of your eye, his necktie already hanging limply around his shoulders. Noting his struggle, you wander over to stand in front of him, grappling with the fabric, stilling him in his movements.

His forehead brushes yours, your voice quiet as you say, “You feeling okay? You’re feeling a little warm.”

“Just tired,” he says, thumbing at your bottom lip. “Just a couple more days and then I’ll have some time off.”

“Let me?” you ask, fingers winding in the tie.

He dips his head, watching you with those dark eyes as you maneuver the fabric around, twining this way and that, before pulling it flush against his throat. His neck bobs as you linger there, holding him nearer to you, tugging teasingly. He leans down, breath skittering across your lips as he asks for your permission.

In answering, you tug onto the tie and pull him down to you, your backside thumping against the kitchen counters as he crowds you against them, hands on your hips, gripping tight. Hot. Fervent and heated is his mouth as he claims your lips in the middle of your kitchen, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, tongue gliding across your bottom lip until you part for him with a pretty sigh.

“Fuck,” he rasps, lips and teeth coasting down your cheek, along your neck, against your shoulder as you hop up onto the kitchen counter with his help, ankles curling around his waist to pull him flush against your center. “Baby…I have to…I should…”

But he’s gripping your thigh. Sliding it further open so he can press himself closer, fingers trailing along bare skin, eliciting shivers in their wake. Up and down, up and down, he trails them. Watches your face the whole time, catches the pinch of your bottom lip between your teeth, the whimper you let out as those fingers roam dangerously close to where you ache for him to touch.

“Is this what you want?” he asks. Breathes the words along the hollow of your ear. Presses a kiss below it a moment later as you nod, nearly bucking into his hand as his fingers toy with the hemline of your shorts, then along the cotton panties. “Honey, I need your words. Do you want me to touch you?” Another kiss, this time along the curve of your neck, tongue lathing sensitive skin. Heat burns low in your belly; throbs lower still, where you can already feel yourself embarrassingly wet for the man. “Want my fingers, sweetheart? Is that what you want?”

His eyes are molten as they meet yours. Liquified honey and caramel as you nod, his lips swallowing your moan at the first slide of his fingers through your slick center. “Steve…ah…work,” you pant, eyes halting on the clock staring at you across the way, and then dropping down to the forearm you’re presently clutching tight, watching the muscles there ripple as he circles your clit, testing your reactions, learning what you like. And he’s an expert, and you want to go back in time and erase every other partner who may have come before in a momentary burst of jealousy, before catching on his ringed finger where it lays against your other thigh, holding fast.

“You're gonna be a good girl and come for me then so I’m not late?” he asks, groaning into your open mouth as you tug him closer by his necktie, hips rolling against his fingers as one slips in, before quickly being joined by another. “Fuck. Just like that, baby. Doing so good for me.”

It’s almost obscene, the sounds he draws out of you. The squelch of your slick where he pumps his fingers between your thighs, the harsh staccato of your breath as you inch closer and closer to your tipping point—like he’s been doing this for years. Like he’s known all along exactly what it takes to have you falling apart, crying out his name. And that’s exactly what you do, inner walls clenching down around his fingers as your thighs tremble low around his hips, his left hand curling around the back of your head to claim your mouth as you whimper into his skin, chanting his name like a mantra—like a prayer.

“I hate you.” You don’t. Not when he looks at you the way he is looking at you now. Watching your chest rise and fall, eyes on yours, tongue swirling around his slick digits. “Fuck. So much.”

“I’m sure you do,” he practically sing-songs, sliding your panties back into your place, followed by your shorts. Draws you closer to the edge of your kitchen counters, hands on the swell of your hips. He noses along your cheek, kissing you softly this time. “As much as I want to stay here, and I really really want to stay here, I have a very important meeting this morning.”

“Boo,” you whine, ear resting over his chest where you can hear his heart thrashing wildly behind his sternum.

“I’ll text you,” he promises, dropping a kiss on your lips as you lean your head back and look up at him through your lashes. “Send me pictures of Charlie?”

“I will,” you laugh brightly, watching out of the corner of your eye as your fur child lifts his head at the mere mention of his name. “Although I’m pretty sure you already have about a million of them by now. Are you sure you have to go?”

He kisses your pout, chuckling softly. “Yes. I wish I didn’t have to, but I do. You’re so beautiful.”

A smile grows on your lips as his fingers run along your cheek, eyes on you, marveling. Never before have you felt so singularly the focus on a partner’s mind. The way Steve looks now…with reverence and appreciation that makes your heart soar…there’s nothing like it. You want to bottle it up, stow it away, keep it safe from the rest of the world. Keep it here, within the walls of your home, where it’s only you, him and Charlie. Your little makeshift family, but the one you both chose.

So you allow him to help you down off the countertops and onto the floor below, your still-trembling thighs groaning beneath you as your cheeks burn hot. He drops a final kiss down onto the crown of your head and squeezes your shoulder tight, snatching his phone from where it’s resting behind you. Sliding it into his pocket, he calls Charlie’s name and hugs the excited puppy once before stepping into the elevator and reassuring you once more he’ll text you just as the doors slide shut.

He makes it about two minutes before your phone pings. His text illuminates on the screen, the message liquifying your insides all over again.

Husband: You coming like that on my fingers is going to be the only thing I’ll be able to think about for the rest of the day, I’ll have you know.

Your stomach tumbles and swoops low in your belly as you type out your reply.

You: Hurry back soon because I’m already thinking of how I’m planning on returning the favor. I know that’s all I’ll be thinking about until you get home.

He types and stops.

Types and stops again.

A wicked grin curls your lips.

And finally.

Husband: You’re cruel.

You: See you later, handsome.

You: xoxo.

——

please please as always let me know what you think! 🩷

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington x you #steve Harrington x reader #fake husband!steve harrington #modern!steve harrington

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gothlcsan · 6 months

Text

teasing your streamer boyfriend, beomgyu on stream

a drabble 𝜗𝜚 smut 𝜗𝜚 wc 784 𝜗𝜚 non idol puppy ! gyu

a/n he’s legitimately so adorable, i adore him so much. he’d make the cutest gamer boyfriend to ever exist, truly. Not proofread but wanted this thought out of my head.. 🐶🩷

please reblog + send requests for more ! x ♡

Beomgyu had already been streaming for several hours prior to you getting off work. Deciding to click open his stream while riding the bus home you smile as he excitedly jumps around after receiving a watermelon on the new game he’s been streaming. Something about seeing your boyfriend so excited over his game, baggy clothes, and bare face in full view made you want to climb onto his lap and kiss him until your heart popped. You know his body like the back of your hand, how his back arches and his chest bumps into yours when you grind against his lap or how his moans get higher from you pulling his ear between your teeth. No one knows he grew out his hair not because he liked you putting bows in it for streams, but the painful pleasure of you curling your fingers around the soft locks and yanking him around. Holding him down by the hair as you ride his cock milking him for all he’s worth. His eyes welling up with tears because he wants to cum but you’re so tight, so warm, he doesn’t want to stop not even when you tell him to cum for you.

You look so pretty today, bomi.

Beomgyu glances at the chat, seeing the chat go crazy, flooding his screen.

“Why is everyone talking- oh,” you smile as Beomgyu blushes pink. “Hi, baby.”

You ponder on if you should leave it at that and privately text him but something about teasing him in front of his chat made you shiver with purpose.

No bow today?

“No, you weren’t home to help me. Are you on your way home?” Beomgyu laughed, shaking his head.

Why? Miss me that badly?

The chat teases Beomgyu calling him a clingy puppy as he tries to deny it, covering his face in embarrassment, pulling his legs to his chest. You smirk, taking a break from the stream long enough to climb off the bus and start making your way down the street to your apartment complex. Beomgyu was still trying to deny the fact he was clingy, apparently he didn’t mind the puppy part you thought to yourself.

Bomi, don’t lie to your viewers!

You teased him, not waiting for his reaction as you locked your phone, quietly entering the apartment. Taking your shoes off and placing your bag onto the couch, you shimmy off your coat before silently making your way towards the bedroom. His gaming room was next door so you made it a mission to quietly rummage through the closet until you grabbed a collar. It was a pretty faint pink, adorned with a matching colored bow and silver bell in the front. You held it by the bell to ensure it didn’t give you away, closing both the closet and bedroom door as you stepped back onto the hallway. Knowing he had his headset back on thanks to the stream, you knew his cutely oblivious self wouldn’t realize you were coming in, still choosing to be quiet. Once you’re in view, just on the edge of the video, you place your forefinger to your lips to signal the chat to not let your presence be known. Most listen, others telling Beomgyu there’s a ghost behind him thankfully he’s preoccupied with the game to notice the chat.

Once you’re directly behind Beomgyu in full view for the chat, you lean down and smile, wrapping the collar around Beomgyu’s throat. He jumps. Hard.

“When the fuck did you come in?” He screamed as he ripped off the headset, clenching his chest as he dramatically turned to catch his breath.

You can’t help but laugh at his scared reaction, ruffling his hair once he turns back to face his computer and monitors.

“To be fair, chat did tell you to turn around. I came in a few minutes ago, so not too long.”

Beomgyu uses his feet to roll his chair closer to you, placing his face into your stomach, calling you mean as you rubbed his back, having to hold back your laughter.

“Everyone, I’m going to steal Bomi away now, okay? Need to make sure he’s okay.” You said with a smile, the chat saying bye and giggling knowing exactly what you meant. Ending the stream and turning the camera off, you leaned down to kiss Beomgyu against his lips.

“Let me make it up to you, puppy.”

Beomgyu’s eyes lighting up both from the nickname and idea of “comfort”, he follows close behind as you redirected him to the bedroom, not wasting a moment before he’s riding your lap with his hands shaking against your stomach.

Such a pretty puppy for you to tease.

#gothlcsan #smut #kpop smut #txt smut #sub beomgyu #beomgyu smut #puppy sub #puppy beomgyu #streamer beomgyu #drabble #txt drabbles #txt smau #txt x reader #txt imagines #beomgyu

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

Note

So you know the Chinese saying that once you've saved a person's life, you're responsible for them forever? where after the reader saves Dream, Dream keeps appearing expecting the reader to take care of him and be responsible for him in a variety of situations and moments. Bonus Points: Dream doesn't exactly explain anything to the reader. Those are the old laws, the reader should be aware of what he was doing when he decided to reach out and save him and that was it.

ANOTHER BONUS: this is why no one rescued Dream— NO ONE WANTED THIS AN INFINITE LIMIT FOR THEM IN SUCH A WAY

Why Are You Here?

Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: You accidentally saved the King of Dreams from his century old prison, now he's your everyday nightmare (affectionate).

Word Count: >900

Warnings: Gender neutral!reader, clingy!Dream, jealous!dream, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: I think I am now finally able to write requests again 🥲🫶 slay for me Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9 @sloanexx

I wiped my face as I looked at the clock at the bottom right of my computer screen. I huffed and leaned back on my office chair, twirling myself around as I waited for my file to upload.

One.

Two.

Three twirls in.

Suddenly, I stop in a panic when a dark figure manifests in front of me.

I cling onto the side of my desk and jump out of my chair, "Dream, what are you-"

"I was unable to procure the results we had last time we baked, and I came to tell-"

I grab his arms and frantically look around my office, "what did I tell you about manifesting yourself in inappropriate settings?"

Dream looks down at me with his eyes as I look past him on both sides of his arms. His brows faintly furrow, "this is not an inappropriate setting. You are fully dressed and I am-"

"That is not what-" I quip, pinching my fingers together. I sigh as I look at the befumbled entity, his galactic blue eyes glassed with an innocent incapacity to understand he was not meant to be suddenly in my place of work. I grab his biceps and push him back.

I begin to lead him to the bathroom with our linked arms, "I can't answer your baking questions right now," I look around the room, "also, didn't we establish you should only come to me if you were in actual trouble."

He mumbles, placing a hand on my arm that was linked with his, "my cake did not rise."

I turn to him, "Dream-"

"You told me baking could alleviate my sorrow. It has done nothing but frustrate further. I would think you should bare some responsibility for the fact."

I grunt as I stop in my tracks. I pull away to cross my arms, "did you follow the recipe you have?"

Dream looks back at me, "to the best of my capacity."

"Then I don't know what to tell you," I mutter, shrugging, "I can't really see what you did-"

"Precisely why," he takes my hand, "you should come to the Dreaming with me."

I look around the room and give him an incredulous expression. I whisper-yell, "I'm working right now."

Dream steps forward. His face solemn, "I will make sure no one will notice."

Shutter.

Dream and I snap to the side. Behold, there stood my nosy co-worker, Liam, one hand holding a smoothie, and another holding up a phone, camera pointed at us.

Fuck.

"Liam," I pull away from Dream.

"I didn't take a photo of you," he immediately says, "I took a selfie." He begins to pose and take a photo of himself.

"Liar," Dream retorts with an echo, not having to open his mouth.

I look around the room when the lights flicker because of this.

Liam reacts to it, extremely on edge as he too looks around the room.

I release a breath, thinking of an excuse as to explain why this unknown man dressed for a funeral and I were talking. I look at Dream. Maybe I could say he was going to a funreal?

"So," Liam starts, shaking his head, "who's this?"

"This is..." I start, turning to Liam, "Murphy."

"Murphy?" Liam squints at the Lord Morpheus, "you don't look like a Murphy."

Dream does not respond.

Liam sips on his smoothie before pulling it abruptly away, shaking his phone, "oh I know who this is!" He points repeatedly at me, "this is they guy that has been sending you flowers!"

"No."

"What?"

Dream and I said this at the same time.

Dream turns to me, as I grab his arm and push past Liam, "good talk, Liam. Murphy has to go now."

I sigh as I lead him to the exit, "I was going to make you disappear through the bathroom, but then Liam caught us together."

He makes a sound, "do you not want me to be seen by this person who sends you flowers?"

"What?" I turn to Dream, "that was a mistake in delivery. It was for Abigail. She recently got married-- but I mean you already know that."

"I do," he mutters.

I shake my head, "Liam made a big deal out of it, like he does everything."

"Would you like to do something about Liam?"

I exit our office and drag Dream towards the elevator, "I would like for you never to suddenly pop up here again."

I watch him pout and furrow his brows, "but you are my person," he replies. He stops us both in our tracks, "the old laws bind us together."

I sigh and nod as I walk off and repeatedly press on the elevator button, "I know! I know. The old laws that even you have to answer to."

Dream's face hardens, his posture falls, "is my presence such a nuisance to you?"

"Morpheus," I sigh, "It's not your presence," I reply, "it's the fact you're at my job," I mumble, "my job that I worked so hard to get and would make me spiral if I lost."

I turn from the elevator doors to Dream as he straightens up, "it was not my intention to cause you distress."

I nod, "I know," I place a hand on his arm, "and you're both kind of really cute for this, and super annoying."

The elevator doors open. I motion for Dream to enter. When he does, I smile at him and wave goodbye. He looks and raises his hand, "I will redo my cake in a manner in which will impress you."

I chuckle, "I look forward to trying it."

He presses his lips into a smile, "farewell."

#dream of the endless #the sandman #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless fanfic #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fluff #dream of the endless fluff #morpheus fluff #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman x reader #morpheus fanfic

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strafepanzer · 1 year

Text

haze | h.shinsou

▸ ▸ ▸ warnings: mentions of shinbaku, fwb shinsou x fem!reader, no naughty stuff but 18+ conversation nevertheless, implied quirk usage

▸ ▸ ▸ word count: drabble-sized

▸ ▸ ▸ a/n: playing with blog formatting and inserting into shinbaku. more to come probably! no edits

The smell of his favourite brew and the soft jazz wafting from the speakers make Shinsou feel somewhat at peace. Despite the time of night, you've agreed to meet him at your usual hangout: the cafe across the road from the apartment building you both live in-- neighbours, nothing more.

Never anything more. Not really.

You're in pyjamas: a worn gudetama set that he knows is soft as shit, a cardigan for warmth, and socks and slides. Cute, honestly. Any other occasion he'd make a joke at your expense, but it's 10pm and he did only text you 39 minutes ago to see if you were available.

It was a shit shift, but you seem to understand that he doesn't wanna unpack it, content just to be there with him, passively enabling his caffeine addiction.

Rather than being on him, however, your attention is on the TV mounted from the ceiling near the counter. It's muted, but there's no doubting the hero flinging himself through the sky in a series of explosions and a blur of black and orange, and there's no mistaking the stars in your eyes.

"You got a crush?" He asks, popping the lid from his takeaway cappuccino and licking at the chocolate sprinked froth.

"Huh? No!" You laugh, eyeing Shinsou off as he replaces the lid.

But there's a flush there, an embarrassment that wouldn't be there if he were wrong.

"You do, though. I can always tell." He teases, but he's right. He knew when you had the hots for the new barista 6 months ago, and he guessed about that hopeless crush you had on your tutor in college when the two of you ran into him at that bar last year.

"Doesn't matter. That guy is way outta my league." You sigh wistfully, eyeing the television longingly.

Shinsou snorts. "Bakugo?"

"No, his dad." You roll your eyes.

Shinsou chuckles, "he's not, though? I feel like people put that asshole up on a pedestal too much. He's just a dude."

A very hot, very famous pro-hero who Shinsou sometimes crosses paths with.

You give him a look and take a sip of your drink before placing it on the table. "What are you not telling me?" You narrow your eyes before your voice lowers conspiratorially. "Did you fuck him?"

Shinsou loves how fast your brain works. "Maybe he fucked me."

Your eyes light up. "Oh my god, I've indirectly slept with him?"

"Okay, this is beginning to hurt my ego."

You snort, an action Shinsou is absolutely smitten with. "I'm torn between wanting to know all of the juicy details, being jealous, and being mad you didn't tell me sooner."

"You don't tell me every person you sleep with." He shrugs, pulling a melodramatic gasp from your pretty lips.

"I do!" You're offended, brows pulling together and eyes wide. "You're the only person I've slept with in two years."

He blinks. This is... a surprising turn of events. That's as long as you've been hooking up.

Your fingers idly play with the condensation dripping from your drink, eyes downcast. He's hurt your feelings, and that hurts his. He's torn between smoothing it over and over-explaining, his too-tired-yet-wired brain jumping from A to B and back to A faster than he can actually compute.

Sometimes he forgets people aren't as free with their sexuality as he is.

"It..." he starts, growing frustrated with himself. "It happened twice. I don't think there was any reason, he didn't seek me out the first time or anything. And it's just sex, honest."

This isn't what he planned to talk to you about. In fact, he was sure he never wanted to tell you about the two of them ever, but his brain and mouth are clearly at war.

When he cautions a glance up at you, you meet his eyes with furrowed brows. He lets you process, feels that fast brain of yours tick, tick, ticking. But you dont say anything; no jests, no jokes, no cheeky predictions.

"I didn't ask you here to talk about Bakugo," he begins, trying to lighten the mood a little. "I just wanted to hang out. Sorry."

"You don't need to apologise, it's not like we're exclusive." You mumble just loud enough for him to hear. "You... like him, then?"

If it were socially acceptable to cackle like the witch from HR Puffinstuff, he would. "Like him? Babe, you meet him once, and I promise that little crush you have on him will fizzle away to nothingness."

"Mean!"

"He is! Extremely so!"

There's a soft smile on your face now, and it calms Shinsou some; he takes a drink from his coffee, savouring the bitterness as washes over his tongue.

There's a comfortable silence that follows, the kind that usually occupies the two of you in his lounge room as you both scroll on your phones and half watch shitty Netflix shows. It's crazy to him that you've hidden your crush on Bakugo so damn well, then again, he hadn't quite been forthcoming with his connection to the pro-hero.

A few moments pass, and you're slurping the last of your drink through the straw, shaking the ice around and tilting the cup so you can get the dregs.

"Is he bi?" You ask, trying to sound casual. Trying.

His interest is piqued, nonetheless. "I'm sorry?"

"I mean, I know I'm convenient, and you're up for anything, but does he exclusively sleep with men?"

Wow, okay, a lot to unpack there, but he explains: "I don't think he does, but the stuff we do might not be up your alley, sweetheart."

"I can--" you begin, too loudly. "I can do butt stuff, Hitoshi." You level with him seriously, voice lowered.

He can't help the hyena-esque howl that bubbles up his throat. "This is not a conversation for here." He spares a glance over your shoulder to the barista fussing about with the coffee grinder behind the counter.

You follow his line of sight, before your large, hopeful eyes are once again on him. "Can I come over?" You whisper, before taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

He's once again torn, mind not knowing where to latch: your teeth in your lip, the "butt stuff" comment, you practically calling him a slut.

The possibility of explaining the ins and outs of how Bakugo begs Shinsou to use his quirk on him.

Heavy lidded eyes drop down to your chest, tits pushed together as you lean against the tabletop to be a little closer to him. "Yeah, you're coming over."

#shinsou x reader #implied shinbaku #shinsou drabble #leese writes

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thursdayisfriday · 9 months

Text

ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ʟᴏᴀᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ⋆˚✿˖°

⤑ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sub!Hinata Shoyo x M!Dom!Reader

⤑ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: SMUT, deepthroating, mention of shaft/D!ck, almost got caught, grinding (Another dabble?)

⤑ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Shoya distracts you while you try to do your work~

Shoya looked at you hungrily as watching the way you bite your plump bottom lip, while focusing on whatever you were so focused on. Your fingers kept hitting the keyboard hard leaving a hard clicking to come out from the keyboard later. Occasionally you'd pause what you were doing to drink some water that was beside you, but right now you were really focused. So you didn’t have time for distractions. And Shoya was one of them. Don’t get me wrong you love Hinata,but Shoya can be so distracting sometimes. With the way he likes to grind on your lap sometimes or when he feels up on your chest, it gets your mind in a daze just thinking about it. But you were pulled out of your thoughts once feeling Hinata pulling on your shirt. You hummed as you turned all of your attention to Shoya, you weren't really showing Hinata any attention so you understood where this was coming from. But Hinata's head was lowered, as he tried to hide the blush on his face, his hand covered the imprint of size near his shorts.

“Can i suck you off?”

You blinked twice making sure you heard that right. Then when realization hit you, so did blush. “OH- yeah, sure”. You tried to compose yourself. You were used to this side of Hinata, but it just coming out of nowhere was very surprising to you. Next thing you knew, Hinata was already under your table tugging on your pants, but you just helped him by pulling down your pants to your ankles. You shivered a little as the cool air hit your upper thighs. “Just remember to take your time, I still have my work to finish” Without another word You went back to typing, almost messing up when Shoya kissed the tip of your shaft while pumping it. How was you supposed to be working now, with your boyfriend literally sucking you off. Hinata opened his mouth wide enough, taking your size in his mouth. He made sure to lick everywhere as he bobbed his head slowly up and down. Some of Shoya’s saliva even made its way down to your balls making you lean your head back in pleasure. “Just like that sho~” you managed to get out, grabbing Hinata’s head to make him move a little faster. With that Hinata slid his hand down to his size, jerking off as he heard your moan. Hinata enjoyed the praise he was getting, he just liked the attention. But everything came to a pause once the Your door swung wide open, making you and your lover jump a little. But it was no one other than your brother, Kenma. Pushing Hinata´s head gently off your size, You looked back in a surprised but questioning manner. Wondering what Kenma wanted.

¨Yeah?¨ you managed to blurt out, among the silence in the room. Kenma´s eyes pierced you like he knew what was going on, making you shiver due to the pressure you felt. ¨Can I borrow your charger?¨ You deadpanned the question. ¨Don´t you have your own?¨ Kenma shrugged, replying with the fact that he can't find it. You were reminded that you had a whole person under his desk when you felt your boyfriend's mouth on his shaft again. “Sure- in my bag” You grumbled, feeling for the orange haired boy's head; giving it another push off. Of course, Hinata being a persistent person, he only teased the male's size even more. You groaned quietly, covering your mouth. Hands still on Hinata’s head you looked down at the boy who was wearing a cheeky smile. “Thanks” Kenma grabbed the changer and walked out the door, pausing before he left. “You good?”.

“Mm-mhm~ yeah- just lock the door behind…mn~ you”. Without a word, Kenma left, leaving the two in the room. You finally pulled out the computer chair, watching as Hinata's mouth was latched onto your shaft. His eyes almost looked as if it had hearts in it with the way that he looked up at you. With so much love. With so much lust. Hinata went faster this time, deepthroating your shaft. His eyes rolled back into his head as his soft pink lips took it all in, hungrily. A grin appeared on your face as you groaned, fucking the volleyball players mouth. His moans vibrated only making you melt even more. A knot formed in your stomach, you were close. Hands tangled in his orange hair, you pull his hair back. “Open your mouth baby~” Hinata obeyed without hesitation, sticking his tongue out. “Good boy~” You growled jerking off and holding on to Shoyo. He looked up at you with desperate eye’s.

Those fucking depsperate eyes that you knew were going to rolled back into his head the second your dick was up his ass.

I hope you enjoyed (⁠人⁠⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠ﾟ⁠+

#x reader #x male reader #fanfic #x male y/n #anime #anime x you #haikyu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut #haikyuu #hinata shoyuo #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo #hinata shoyo haikyuu #hinata shouyou #haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyū!!

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the-way-of-words · 6 months

Text

PolyVerse Cam Boy AU//Jolly

Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson x Holly(ofc) with mentions of Noah Sebastian x Holly(ofc), Nicholas Ruffilo x Holly(ofc), and Nicholas Ruffilo x Holly(ofc) x Noah Sebastian

Content warnings: partner sharing, exhibitionism, oral (male and female receiving), mentions of fisting, P in V sex, squirting, light choking, mentions of sex work

Contains sexual situations with fictionalized versions of real people. None of this is real, and we should all know this by now, but if it's still not your thing, hit the back button.

For the lovely @throwingmetothelions who has let me play in her Cam Boy HC sandbox not once, but twice now, since Jolly decided he wanted to have a turn. And thank you to @signs-of-ill-portent for being the best fucking cheerleader and beta ever to grace my life.

tag team: @cncohshit, @jxstthisonce, @kingdomof-omens, @ladyveronikawrites, @deathblacksmoke

if you would like to be added to a taglist, feel free to comment or send me an ask <3

~~~~~

Jolly doesn't exactly know what the whole situation is with Nick, Noah, and Holly. At the very least, he knows she's fucking both of them. Or maybe they're both fucking her. Although, judging by what he heard last night, he's pretty sure they're all fucking each other.

Not that it matters all that much, but it's important he has some kinda story straight in his head when he enters the kitchen almost every morning to the sight of her dressed in someone else's shirt and little to nothing else.

He feels like he's going insane, but who can blame him when he's had to go to sleep almost every night this week, hearing how pretty she sounds when one of them takes her apart? He tries not to listen – he does – but at this point, it almost seems like they're doing it on purpose.

Add to that the fact that he watched every second of that stream they did a couple of months ago, and he's been a very distracted man indeed. It doesn't matter that they cut it off before any actual fucking took place, because he now knows exactly what she looks like writhing with a head between her legs, and it's beautiful. Jolly's dreamt about it; getting on his knees in front of her, throwing a leg over his shoulder while he eats her out, exactly how Nick said she likes it, only to wake either hard as a rock or sticky in a mess of his own making.

It's fine, he tells himself. He just has to stick it out for a few more days until Nick and Holly return to Virginia. He tells himself that he can handle it. It’s just a few more days, a few more sleepless nights, but it doesn't help. Jolly spends all of his next stream barely speaking, as the fantasy of Holly walking in on him takes hold and cums so hard, he's pretty sure he hears his jaw crack.

"So, this is where the magic happens, huh?"

He jumps at the sound of her voice, mouth going dry when he turns away from his computer to eye Holly leaning in the doorway because she's dressed in a shirt she must have taken from Noah’s laundry because it's actually his; he swallows, trying to will away the hardness forming in his sweatpants. The garment swims on her frame, and he hopes to God she’s got something on under it.

"You know," she says conversationally as she kicks away from the door, "I thought about walking in on you while you were doing your stream thing yesterday." His eyes track her as she crosses into the room, cataloging the curves he can’t see, but knows are there. She perches herself on the desk in front of him, staring down at him with interest. "That's your thing, right? You like to be walked in on…watched?"

He thinks it’d almost be funny if her words weren’t actively trying to break his brain.

His fingers drum against his thigh, and he sighs. This is a bad idea, a voice in his head murmurs, and yet he answers anyway. “Uh…yeah.” He snorts. “Yeah, it is.”

Holly nods, humming quietly to herself as her crossed ankles swing softly in the small space that separates them. His mind wanders back to what she said earlier, and he’s curious.

This is a bad idea, the voice says again, but the question tumbles out of his mouth before he can think to stop it. “And what would you have done?”

“Hm?” Her eyebrow quirks, as if she’s confused, but he knows better. Jolly can see the little spark of mischief in her eyes. The one that reminds him so very much of Noah, and he understands now what Nick meant when he said those two were like two peas in a pod.

“What would you have done? If you had walked in?” He shouldn’t encourage this. Not when Nick and Noah are just on the other side of the wall. But he is so desperate to take back control of the situation, and, maybe if he goes far enough, he’ll be able to. Maybe if he tries hard enough, he’ll scare her off and she’ll go running back to them and stop rattling his cage like this. Jolly tilts his head as he stares at her for a beat longer, fingers pyramided in front of his chest.

She doesn’t move when he suddenly rolls his chair closer, smirking as he settles his hands on her knees.

“Would you have opened up these pretty legs for me?” He moves his hands up her thighs until his fingers can slide under the hem of her shorts. “Would you have let me bury my face in this sweet pussy of yours until one of them came looking for you?”

Glee rolls up his spine when Holly’s breath hitches as his fingers crawl higher under her shorts, and he pauses, hands halting until their eyes meet. He raises an eyebrow, wondering if this is all it will take, if now is when she’ll say stop and leave. But she doesn’t. Instead, she meets his gaze head-on, as if daring him to keep going. So he does, his calloused fingers searching until they reach the edge of her underwear. She leans back, spreading her legs wide as he slips beneath the elastic, shock replacing the satisfaction when he finds her folds slick.

“Is that what you would have wanted, Jolly?” she asks, voice low, almost a breathless purr. “Is that what you thought about when you got yourself off last?”

He was, but it’s not as if he’d tell her that. Not when he’s slowly losing this dubious game of sexual chicken they’ve found themselves in. Jolly clears his throat, trying to focus on his goal instead of how warm she feels underneath his hands, how soft, how she smells like soap and hot water and some kind of strawberry lotion that makes his mouth water. But then she shifts her hips, causing his thumb to brush against her clit, and before Jolly can make sense of what he’s doing, he dips it down and into her wet slit.

“Something tells me I’m not the only one that’s thought about it,” he counters. “Tell me, Holly, how many times have you thought about me when one of them has been between your thighs, huh?”

He feels very, very warm all of a sudden, the heat pooling in his gut spreading out to the rest of him, and while he knows he should stop, should take his hands off her and tell her to get out, he can’t. He’s too mesmerized by the feel of her inner walls clutching at his thumb as he slides it in and out of her.

It’s her whimper, a breathless call of his name, that snaps him out of the haze, that finally pulls his hands off of her as he stands abruptly, and maybe if he had any ability to actually think this through, this would be the end of it. But he’s too far gone now. Can’t do anything but take hold of her face with both his hands and plant his mouth on hers.

The kiss is messy and desperate, wet, open mouths and tongues and he can’t figure out which one of them has wanted this more. Is it her, with her hands fisted in his t-shirt, trying to tug him closer? Or is it him, with the way he pulls away from her lips to lap up the taste of her from the sticky trail his thumb left on her cheek? He lets go of her face to suck his thumb into his mouth, and as her sweet musk settles on his tongue, he knows he has to have her.

There are no thoughts of the consequences they may encounter as he shoves his hands into the waistband of Holly’s shorts. He follows them down, planting his knees on the carpet, eyes zeroing in on the small patch of fabric a little darker than the rest.

“Can I?” It’s an out as much as a request, their last chance to stop this before they go too far, and he hopes she takes it. Because he knows once he fully lets himself give in, there will be no going back. But she tangles a hand through his hair instead, nodding to him while she utters a quiet yes. It's all he needs to throw one of her legs over his shoulder and pull her underwear to the side as he licks into her.

She invades his senses, the smell and taste of her all he knows, all he wants, and he wastes no time putting his stolen knowledge to use; rolling his tongue across her clit lightly before he tucks two fingers back into her.

“Oh fuck,” he hears her rasp, fingers tightening in his hair. “Someone’s… someone’s been sneaky--”

Her teasing reproach cuts off with a quiet moan when he crooks his fingers, another following quickly after as a third joins them. He pulls away for a moment, his cock twitching at the sight, and Jolly wonders exactly how many of his fingers she’d let him fit inside her… if she would let him work up to getting his whole fist inside, just to see how she would look stretched around his wrist.

He doesn’t realize he’s voiced his fantasy until he hears a sharp intake of breath. “You’re kinda a kinky fucker, aren’t you?”

His eyes slide up to glance at her face, and fuck, isn’t she a pretty sight? Her face flushed, mouth fallen open in pleasure as she watches him fuck her with his fingers.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t let me?” he asks, twisting his head to take a nip of her thigh, “Wouldn’t let me call your boys in here and let them watch me open you up--”

For a split second, he thinks he hears a creak of the floor just outside his bedroom. But then she uses her grip on his hair to guide him back to her cunt and Jolly forgets all about it as he sneaks his tongue down to lick around his fingers, taking pride in the choked gasp of his name right before he sucks her clit into his mouth.

Holly lights up under his touch, pulling him even closer with shaking thighs as she cums. Her release gathers around his knuckles, and he drinks it up; licking and sucking until she’s pulling him away, tugging at him until he rises from his knees…only to plant her hands on his chest and send him stumbling back onto the bed.

“Take your pants off.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, shuffling his sweatpants down his legs and tossing them to the floor while she pulls a condom from god knows where.

The full weight of the situation, the actual wrongness of what they're doing, doesn't hit him until she kneels between his legs. It only adds fuel to the fire, sparking the heat inside his veins in a way that makes him ache. The floor creaks again; he’s sure of it this time, yet when he turns his head, there’s no one there. But that doesn’t stop his thoughts from running as she takes him into her mouth.

The wet heat makes his eyes roll back, her tongue pulling bitten-off curses from his mouth as she swirls it around his cock head, and he wonders briefly who it is, standing with their ear to the door, hand on the doorknob, ready to walk in…he groans, squeezing his eyes closed. Or maybe it’s both Nick and Noah, taking turns to creep into the doorway and watch their girl with someone else, and he’s struck with the idea that maybe this has been the plan all along.

But then Holly’s pulling off and rolling the condom down his length, straddling his lap, causing all coherent thought to cease as he slips inside her. She takes him in slowly, lips parting in a quiet sigh as she lowers herself at a snail’s pace, thighs flexing beneath his hands when she rises, only to sink lower with every pass until she’s fully seated.

Holly pauses, her eyes fluttering closed as she rocks back and forth minutely. It makes his hips kick up on their own accord because even through the latex he can feel how wet she is, the tight clutch of her cunt pulling him under her spell even further. It’s almost as if he’s adrift, and the weight of her on top of him, the feel of her softness against him is the only thing keeping this from being a dream.

She gasps, a noise caught somewhere between a laugh and a moan, as she steadies herself on his chest, “Easy, tiger. I need a minute.”

“I'll try to behave,” Jolly snickers, deciding to let his hands roam as she continues to grind against him.

He grips her thighs, enjoying the way her flesh gives under his fingers when he thumbs at the flowers inked into her skin just below the crease of her hips. His hands trail under her borrowed shirt to caress the skin of her waist and she shivers, goosebumps forming in their wake as his hands slide up her torso to her ribcage, going further still until his thumbs reach the curve of her breasts. The full flesh fills his palms perfectly, and what he wouldn’t give to have her fully naked, to see all of her as she undulates on top of him. But he still doesn’t quite know where the line is, so he settles for teasing the sensitive buds of her nipples, pinching and rolling them until they stiffen.

He hears the telltale noise of movement outside the door once more just as she begins to rock her hips back and forth, working up to a slow, steady rhythm that has arousal pooling at the base of his spine already; he cuts his gaze to the doorway, where he’s met with Nicholas’s heated stare. But before the panic can fully take root, the other man smirks, nodding in their direction as if telling him to keep going…and that’s when all the pieces start to fall into place.

There's a reason they haven’t come looking for her. This has been a game all along, and that gives him an idea.

“Do you think any of your boys are watching, sweet girl? Hmm?” Jolly asks. His hands slip from her chest to her waist, clutching her tightly as her hips twist devilishly.

She smirks, lowering down to her elbows, her breath hot against his ear when she whispers “What makes you think they haven’t been watching since the beginning?”

He should probably be upset at the idea of being played like this. But instead, all it does is make him want this more, and if they want a show… who’s Jolly to deny them? He holds her steady, thrusting up into her roughly one last time before lifting her off him.

Confusion colors her face. “Jol--”

“Turn around,” he interrupts and she follows his direction immediately, settling on her hands and knees as she faces the door.

He’s quick to fit himself against her, eager to find his way back inside her tight heat. One of his hands slips under his t-shirt, caressing the ridges of her spine on its way to rest between her shoulder blades. It only takes the littlest amount of pressure for Holly to get the hint, and she lowers her chest to the bed, arms stretched out in front of her.

He groans when he pushes inside, the tight clutch of her cunt trying to pull him deeper as she parts for him. He wants to take it slow, savor it, but when he spies Nick outside the door again his hips snap forward sharply, and he buries himself as deep as he can go. It’s almost as if he’s on autopilot, his body chasing the pleasure he knows hers will provide. His hips pull back before rolling forward, setting a satisfying rhythm as he drapes himself over her back.

She was right earlier. He is a kinky fucker, and a kinda nasty one at that, which means he is not above slithering a hand underneath her to cup her throat, using that hold to pull her face up from where it’s buried in his duvet to meet her boyfriend’s gaze.

He can tell the exact moment the two lock eyes: a sharp gasp falls from her mouth as she throws herself back to meet his thrusts as best as she can. The wet, slick sound of her pussy hurtles him closer to the edge, and fuck, he wishes he could see her face as the pair stare at each other, but watching Nick watch her is a good consolation prize and he takes it willingly.

He can see the sheer want in his friend's face, his jaw slack as he stares unabashedly, taking in every bit of what's happening in front of him, his inked hands press against his groin, tongue poking out to wet his lips before he swallows. Nick's hands fall to his sides, clenching into fists, and Jolly's curious.

“What about after this, huh?” he pants into the shell of her ear, tightening his grip on her neck until he can feel the flutter of her pulse, “Are you going to crawl back into bed with your boyfriends and let one of them inside you?”

“Fuck,” Holly curses when he relaxes his hold, “o--only if you don’t make me cum again.”

Jolly smirks when her inner walls start to quiver around him, even if it makes it harder for him to hold on, and he waits until Nick’s attention is on him before he replies.

“Well, I’d hate,” he gasps, “to send you back to them unsatisfied… shit, Holly--c’mon, touch yourself for me.”

He buries his face in her hair, unable to look at Nicholas any longer once she starts to play with herself, but he can still feel the burning weight of his friend's gaze as he chases his own end. It prickles at his insides, driving him closer and closer until Holly seizes up. Delight joins the ecstasy coursing through him when her release bursts forth, wetting the both of them before it drips onto the bed beneath.

Light explodes behind his eyes as he digs his teeth into her shoulder, smothering his groan into the freckled skin as he lets go. His hips stutter and jerk as he gives her all he has, rutting into her until he’s spent. He feels fuzzy, a pleasant hum spreading through his bones when he lets himself slump onto the bed. Holly follows, coming to rest on her side, throwing a leg over his and he’s just about to tug her close and pull her into a kiss when Nick appears at the side of his bed.

Jolly rolls to his back and focuses his eyes on the ceiling as if to give them some sort of privacy, trying to not give in to the awkward feeling settling in his stomach now that it's over.

“I didn't know you could do that.” To his surprise, there’s not a trace of jealousy in Nick’s voice when he breaks the silence, it almost sounds like awe, if Jolly were to put a name to it.

“I, uh, did not know that either.” Holly laughs and pride swells in Jolly’s chest.

“Well, Noah's going to be sad he missed it…He had to take a call from Matt just as you were getting started. Something tour-related, I guess, couldn't wait,” Nick says, preoccupied. Jolly sneaks a glance out of the corner of his eye, watching the man’s hand travel up Holly’s thigh to her center. Her legs part without him having to ask, yet she still makes a surprised noise when his fingers delve into her center, “He got you all messy, didn’t he?”

It makes him feel a certain kind of way, being talked about like he’s not there. “I’m right here, you know.”

Nick snorts. “You gonna participate in the conversation then, or just stare at the ceiling pretending to not be here?”

Holly’s hand is warm when it settles on his cheek, pulling his attention from the light fixtures to the two of them instead. They both smile and Jolly finds himself smiling back.

“So… this isn’t going to be weird then? We’re okay?” he asks.

Holly and Nick trade a glance before the man huffs another laugh. “Wouldn’t have done this if we thought it was going to be weird…” Nick studies his face, “But are you okay with it?”

“Fuck, are you kidding me?” he laughs, “I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard before.” He means it, and if things aren’t weird for them, then he can’t say that things are weird for him either… especially if it means this is going to happen again.

The next time he streams and Holly’s in town, he makes sure everyone can see how Noah watches before he walks in on them and Jolly doesn’t think he’s ever made that much money for a single session.

And even though he doesn’t quite understand exactly what the four of them are doing, he’s gonna enjoy it while it lasts.

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miscfandomwrites · 11 months

Text

Mama: Chapter One

A/N: Repost. I'm actually doing this on my work's computer during my break-so that should tell you how pressed I am to get this stuff out.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Avenger! Mom! Reader

Warnings: Language

Words: 857

Tagging: No tag list yet, so no folks to tag.

“Do we have to?” Lillith asked as we walked down the hallway.

“Yes, babydoll. Uncle Clint should be there, though.” you reassured her as you looked for the office.

Fury wanted me to join the Avengers. As if being a single parent isn’t hard enough, going off on missions that could get me killed was worse. I couldn’t bear to leave Lillith by herself. Sarah would never forgive me, but she’d understand. I needed to stay. If not for her, then for Lillith.

I let out a sigh, looking around again. I finally saw the office and opened the door. Lilith immediately hid behind me, clutching my jacket.

“You’ll be alright love. Want up?” asked asked her, leaning down to her. She nodded, and I picked her up and looked around. There was a glass table, which Fury stood at the head of, and people-who I assumed were the Avengers-standing around it. I stood at the end of the table, taking note of everyone.

From Fury’s left to right, there was Steve Rodgers, Sam Wilson, James Barnes, Clint Barton, then me. Then Wanda Maximoff, Tony Stark, Thor, Bruce Banner, and Natasha Romanoff.

Lillith clutched my jacket harder as Fury cleared his throat.

“Ms. (L/N), Lillith. Good to see you again.” He spoke loudly. Everyone started to take a seat but I kept standing, rubbing my hand soothingly over Lillith’s back. I nodded at him.

“Fury.” I said.

“You know why you are here.” he told me. I nodded again and kissed Lillith’s forehead, gently swaying.

“I didn’t know you had a kid.” Stark said, motioning to Lillith.

“Do you want to say hi?” I asked Lillith quietly. She shook her head in reply.

“This is Lillith. She’s my daughter.” I replied to him. He nodded.

“You’ll have an entire floor at the compound, and I’ll make sure she has everything she needs.” he told me. I nodded again.

“She’s just started kindergarten, but I’m homeschooling her for obvious reasons.” I said. The obvious reasons were the fact that Hydra wanted both of us dead-and I would never let that happen.

“Ms. (L/N) is a WAM. Weapons Ammunition Manufacturer-you can thank her for saving your asses again and again.” Fury spoke.

“Language, Fury.” I told him, nodding to Lillith. He nodded, and pulled out a thick file and started to explain the history that led me here.

Enlisted in the Marines. Met my wife. Hydra captured me. Brainwashed for almost six years- until I broke out of their grasp. Found out I had a daughter. Been with her ever since. It’s been almost two years since I broke out of their grasp. I still wake up screaming, sometimes. The only reason I am alive is because of her. My daughter.

Sparing detail, he turned back to me. “You’ll be working with them from here on out. I expect the best from you, (L/N).” he told me. I nodded again.

I looked over at Lillith, who was fast asleep on my shoulder. I kept rubbing her back, gently shifting her so I could hold her better.

“It’s a two hour ride back to the tower, so I suggest getting some food or something.” Clint told me, motioning over to Lillith. I grinned at him.

“Lillith Shark doo doo doo” I said quietly, causing him to quietly laugh. Lillith had quiet an appetite.

Fury dismissed us, and I gently woke up Lillith.

She groaned as she lifted her head off my shoulder, her hair plastered to the side of her face.

“Sleep well?” I asked, smiling. She nodded.

I set her down, and once she spotted Clint she ran over to him, jumping in his arms.

“Uncle Clint!” She said as he picked her up.

“Hey there, Lil. Hungry?” He asked her as she quickly nodded. I laughed and followed him out of the room, to the cafeteria. We caught up, talking about his kids and Laura, the farm and everything else I missed since last time I heard from him a few months ago.

We got yogurt and a banana for Lillith, and cups of coffee for us both.

As she happily munched on her food, we talked about the tower.

“Yeah, so there’s laboratories and stuff. I’m pretty certain you’ll have a place to make your weapons too. Also, the kitchen is always fully stocked so you two can make cookies whenever.” He said. At the word of ‘cookies’ Lillith immediately perked up, exclaiming how she wanted to make chocolate chip cookies as Clint and I giggled at her.

After snacks, took her to the bathroom to go potty and wash up before we left. After getting to the quinjet I checked the time.

It was nearly bedtime for her, so I pulled her into my lap as we took off. I was sitting on the floor, my back to the wall and I draped my jacket over her, humming slightly and I smoothed her shirt with my hands.

I saw Natasha looking over at us, and I caught her eye, smiling softly and she smiled back.

This shouldn’t be too bad of an adjustment.

#fanfiction #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #mama #miscfandomwrites

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iamnotthere-idonotdie · 5 months

Text

adored

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synopsis: reader works a menial job where they meet bruce wayne. the two meet up later at a bar and spend the night together.

warnings: bruce wayne (battinson) x reader, one use of “fuck”, mention of sex, cheating, drinking

a/n: no use of y/n, physical attributes of protagonist is up to reader’s interpretation, some moments are probably ooc for pattinson’s bruce wayne but i had a visison, probably some typos, also sorry i have my auto-capitalization off, this is my first ever fanfic btw so be nice pls but also very much would love feedback, i got inspired by the song adored by sea girls so listen to that too if you want an idea of the vibe here, edit: here’s the whole playlist if you want

part 1 of 3

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“jumping jack enterprises, how may i help you?”

you’re customer-service voice wasn’t in full-swing today. it was a long night with your boyfriend, john, and you just wanted friday to end. it was another night of screaming and fighting and you didn’t know how you’d make it through this. you loved him, but you’re starting to wonder if that’s enough. you’ve been trying to convince yourself that it’s only recently starting being rocky between the two of you, but the truth is you’re not sure anymore why you’re even still together.

you’ve been together 4 years now, it’s become your new normal to come home to john. to see him at his armchair by the fireplace, drinking a cocktail and reading one of his pretentious novels. but you’re only realizing now that what you thought was affection is just infatuation. the spark is gone. the honeymoon phase is over, if it ever was there to begin with.

“let me direct you to our marketing department and they’ll get you the help you’re looking for.”

you hang up the phone and glance again at the clock. 4:51. nine minutes to go until you’re able to go back home to what will probably be another night of senseless arguing.

you start to pack up your things and then the door swings open. you sigh, annoyed that someone’s come in this late to closing. but you look up to see bruce wayne. bruce wayne? what is he doing here?

“can you show me to jack bill’s office please?” he asks in a low voice.

“mr. bill is out today, actually. he’ll be back monday afternoon.”

“can you leave this for him then?” he hands you a yellow envelope, with nothing but mr. bill’s name on it.

“um sure thing, mr. wayne. is there anything else i can help you with?” you ask, hoping you’re voice doesn’t sound as shaky as you think it does.

“no, thank you.” he turns and leaves the way he came.

“have a nice day…” and the door shuts.

that was strange. what did bruce wayne need to see mr. bill for? and why leave such a mysterious envelope like that? you try not to think too deeply into it as you finish gathering your things and shutting down the computers to leave.

your phone buzzes. it’s john. he’s leaving for the weekend, to see his brother. to clear his head. to think things through. even though you should feel upset, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief at not having to fight again, at least for a few days.

you decide instead of going home to mope, you head to a local bar. you can’t remember the last time you went drinking alone. in fact, you can’t remember the last time you went drinking at all. maybe it’ll be good, a change of scenery.

you hail a taxi and ask to be taken to the jade jewel. the car zips through traffic and fights off the rain as you make your way to the bar.

you’re there, and you feel a sudden wave of anxiety. maybe this isn’t a good idea. alcohol is probably not what you need right now. but the taxi’s already left to find another fare, and now you’re stuck, in your work clothes, at the only bar in town your mind could conjure up. you reluctantly walk in and get a table.

the bar is not how you remember it. it’s now more of a chill jazz club. okay, maybe this will actually be good.

you order an old fashioned and listen to the live music, the piano and the bass intertwining to make beautiful melodies. time seems to stand still as you’re lightly swaying along in your seat to the music. turns out, this is exactly what you needed.

you don’t pay attention to how long you’ve been sitting there, but it seems to be a while as people are starting to leave. the door opens and closes as couples file out to go home, but then you see out of the corner of your eye a familiar face. before you can fully register who it is, he’s waking over to your table.

“you work at jumping jack right? i saw you there today, gave you that message for mr. bill.”

“yeah, that was me. i didn’t know you came around here.”

“it’s one of the few places i can go without worrying about the press. if no one expects you to be here, then they won’t look for you here.”

“that makes sense i suppose.”

“i apologize for leaving in that way. i didn’t want to keep you there too late.”

“it’s okay, i was just confused about the envelope.”

“it’s just a letter letting him know about a potential merger. he’s done some great research that i think we could both benefit from if we work together.”

“yeah that sounds like a great opportunity for him.”

he just nods slightly as he sits there, and the two of you turn to watch the band play.

the now mostly empty bar becomes quiet for a moment as the band switches songs. you and bruce lock eyes, and for a brief second, you get butterflies in your stomach. he lightly smiles at you and you smile back. then the music picks up again, a slow tempo, romantic song. bruce holds his hand out across the table.

“would you like to dance?”

you pause for a moment, confused by his question. bruce wayne does not seem like the dancing type. but you have one and a half drinks in you and without thinking anymore, you smile softly and nod. he takes your hand and you both get up from the table, moving over closer to the stage. he has one hand around you, pressing against your back and the other hand is holding yours. you sway slowly together, to the beat of the jazz band’s tune. after a minute of this, he slowly guides his hand lower down the small of your back and brings you in closer. you’re pressed against each other, tightly, as you two dance in the lowlight of the bar. you haven’t felt like this in a long time. john never danced with you, even when the relationship was at its best. after what seems like forever, the song ends. but you stay holding onto each other. you turn to look up at him and he’s looking at you too.

“the music’s stopped” you say quietly.

“i know.” he says even softer.

…

the sunlight pries your eyelids open as you blink to wake up. morning. saturday. you breathe in deep and let out a sigh.

bruce lays beside you, still snoring softly. you want to feel guilty. for fucks sake you’re waking up with bruce wayne next to you, in the bed you share with your boyfriend of 4 years.

but you don’t. because you just had the best night in a long time. you slowly get up out of bed and throw bruce’s shirt on. as you make your way to the kitchen, you can’t help but smile a bit.

you scoop the coffee grounds into the filter and pour some water in the machine, letting the bubbling of the coffee maker lull you into a daze. you just keep replaying the night you just had over and over. the music, the dancing, the sex. you can’t even remember the last time you and john had sex. you think of john, at his brother’s house, looking out the window at the same morning sky you’re seeing now. you start to feel a bit of guilt creep in when the coffee finishes brewing, and you pour a cup. you sit in the armchair, the same one john sits in, and sip. you force yourself to not think of john, to think of anything, just enjoy the coffee as it warms you up.

your daze is suddenly broken when you hear the sound of liquid pouring. you turn and bruce is making himself a cup. he’s wearing nothing but his underwear as he makes his way toward you. he leans down and you kiss him.

this is what you want to feel, right? an aching, longing feeling, like you miss him even though he’s right beside you. bruce sits in the chair next to you, and the two of you just drink the coffee, no words exchanged.

this is how you want your mornings to be. this is how you want to be.

adored.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

#bruce wayne #battinson #the batman #robert pattinson #fanfic #bruce wayne x reader #first fanfic #pictures from pinterest #part 1 #part 1 of 3 #batman #batman x reader

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