#choices face off: a hot shot story | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kbstanny · 2 months ago

Text

Treatment (Zayne/Reader)

✿ Fandom: Love and Deepspace

✿ Pairing: M/F

✿ Tag: NSFW

✿ Mentions: smut, mild injury mentions

✿ Word count: 5,051

✿ Summary: She had no choice but to see Dr. Zayne for treatment after a Wanderer left her injured, but his cure for her anguish wasn't quite what she had in mind.

✿ A/N: Hey! This my first fic on this website, and it's on a game I only started playing a week ago 😭

Because I'm a new player, I don't really know the world or the story very well, so if there are inaccuracies then you know why. However, I've also avoided specific plot details for this very reason.

I hope you enjoy!

Damned Knave.

She tightly gripped the gash on her thigh, limping her way down the dark deserted path. She'd received reports of disturbances down at the old munitions factory and had gone to investigate. Wanderers had been sighted after hours, so she'd gone late into the evening, and solo, as her ever-elusive partner had been unavailable. She'd handled herself fine, but a rather tricky Knave had managed to cut right through the top of her thigh.

Once she eventually hobbled her way to a street lamp, she could investigate her injuries properly. Shakily, she removed her blood-stained hands from the wound, then hummed — It didn't look too severe. The gash was long, but not so deep, stretching from her inner thigh up toward her hip. The blood made things a lot nastier than they needed to be, and the pain was bearable, at least for now. She'd hail a taxi and treat the damage at home, and if it didn't feel much better by morning, she'd consult her physician. But Dr. Zayne was a last resort.

Once morning came, she did not feel better.

The pain woke her up before her alarm did. It stung intensely, and the surrounding skin was hot and numb. Clearly rubbing alcohol, a cocktail of painkillers and gauze wasn't going to cut it. Carefully, she unwrapped the bandage to take a look at her injury — it still didn't seem too bad. Inflamed, a little gnarly, but far from incapacitating. Just painful. But she'd faced foes much fiercer than some stupid Herte Knave, and obtained injuries far more gruesome. For now, she'd suck it up. She had a job to do.

—

"Oh my god!" Tara gasped. "When did that happen?" Her friend asked her, leaning in to the picture on her phone. She'd snapped the pic before getting ready for work this morning, thinking it would be a funny story to tell to Tara at the office. But her friend's reaction was a little more alarmed than she'd anticipated.

"Last night, at the factory. There were some serious beasts down there, but you wanna know caused that? A Knave of all things." She chuckled, shaking her head. Tara didn't look so amused.

"Aren't you hurt? Have you been to the doctor?"

"It's just a scratch, Tara, I'll be fine."

"That is not just a scratch! That needs stitches!—"

"What needs stitches?"

Captain Jenna approached the two, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She had a scrutinising look in her eye, one that said 'Why are you chatting and not working?' It reminded her of her old teachers.

The hunters were silent, looking between each other. She shot Tara a warning look, but Tara ignored it, turning the phone to face Jenna. "This does."

Jenna leaned in, her eyebrows raising, breaking her steely expression. "Why yes, it does... Is this you?" She looked to her, and she sighed softly, a little embarrassed.

"Yes, but I feel fine. I promise. If I didn't, I'd take the day off."

"Have you had it treated?" Jenna cut to the chase.

"...No." She admitted, and Jenna sighed.

"Well go. At once. That could easily get infected." The captain straightened up, her tone commanding. There was no room for negotiation. "Honestly, I thought you'd have more sense than to leave an injury like that unattended." With that, Jenna walked away. She waited until her captain was out of sight before standing and addressing Tara.

"Did you really have to snitch on me?" Though she already knew she would — anything to impress Jenna. Tara gave a sheepish look.

"Well I had to do something! I'm only looking out for you." But she pat Tara's shoulder, shaking her head and smiling.

"I know, I know, you're right... as usual. I really shouldn't ignore it. Thanks Tara." Tara gave a knowing smile.

"I am usually right! Now go and see Zayne. He might be a little scary but he knows what he's doing." They both chuckled at that.

Tara knew what her friend was hesitant to admit: It wasn't that she was ignorant of the risks of open wounds, nor was she a particularly nervous patient. She just didn't want to see Zayne.

Not because the doctor was in any way cruel or unpleasant, he wasn't even scary as such. But the doctor was so cold, and the icy chill of his eyes permeated her core with a mere glance her way. Zayne had been an old forgotten friend, a dear one, but now he was a figurehead for her ailments. All that time they'd spent together as children seemed meaningless now. They couldn't have drifted further apart. Zayne was a bad omen, and a sign her past had been well and truly shattered.

But that was only half of the reason. The other reason, the more embarrassing one, was that she found Zayne stupidly attractive. Not only because he had the face of an angel and a body carved from marble, but for his work ethic, his dedication, his intelligence. And of course, she couldn't help but feel sentimental toward him over the time they'd spent together as kids. She yearned to reconnect with him. He had a potent effect on her. When she was near him, his mere presence was enough to suck the words out of her mouth, to reduce her to a shrinking violet with no resolve. Like a silly teenager with a crush. And that wasn't like her at all. She hated not having control.

She wasn't certain whether the feeling was mutual. There was something about the way that he looked at her, on occasion, that made her heart flare up. Sometimes she thought he had a tenderness to his tone that he just couldn't have used with everyone, but maybe that was wishful thinking? His concern for her health and wellbeing seemed obsessive, too. Never had her previous physicians been so zealous, but Zayne was a renowned surgeon. Perhaps it was just a sign he was good at his job, and nothing more? She didn't know, and she didn't like thinking about it.

With a deep breath, she rapped on the door to his office. With any luck, he'd be busy, and she'd be forced to return to HQ and schedule an appointment the long way.

"Come in." He answered — Damn.

She walked inside, standing by the door with her hands behind her back. Zayne was busy typing away at his computer, and he hadn't even spared her a glance. She hadn't realised she'd been quiet until Zayne spoke up again.

"Can I help you?"

She snapped out of her daze. "Yes, if you're not too busy. I injured myself while dealing with a Wanderer. I was hoping you could take a look."

It was upon hearing her voice that Zayne decided his patient was more interesting than his computer, and he turned to face her, scrutinising her slightly crooked form, and the way she carried her weight. He thought for a moment or two.

"Your left thigh." How did he know that? She looked down, but her injury was completely concealed, and no blood had seeped through her clothes.

"Yes, how did you—"

"What happened exactly? Take a seat." She nodded, heading to sit down on the chair opposite the doctor, but he shook his head.

"Not there. On the examination table."

"Right."

As she sat down, Zayne quickly punched one final sentence into the keyboard, before turning to face her, waiting for her answer.

"It happened yesterday. A Wanderer, as I said." She clarified, and Zayne hummed.

"So the Wanderer attacked you directly? You didn't sustain this injury through any other means during the battle?" She shook her head. Zayne made a note of this on his computer.

"And do you have any other injuries?" She told him no again.

"Alright. I need to examine you, if that's okay."

She nodded, looking down to where her legs were outstretched on the table, before coming to an awkward realisation: She was wearing pants. She couldn't just pull her skirt up, she'd have to strip the item off entirely.

"Yes, of course." She began to fiddle with the button to her pants, before Zayne stiffened, taking the curtain that surrounded the table.

"Tell me when you're ready." With that, he shut the curtain around her. She released a sigh of relief, grateful for the privacy, though she felt a little stupid for not closing it herself. She wasn't sure how she'd compose herself having to undress in front of him.

Once her pants were off, she came to a second mortifying realisation: Her underwear. The item was black and lacy, made from sheer mesh, hardly concealing her delicate areas. The type you'd wear for a lover, and not at all the sort of thing you'd wear to work. But she'd washed all of her more practical undies yesterday, and thanks to one pesky Knave, hadn't found the time to dry them before morning. If she'd known she'd be stripping down in Zayne's office for an examination, she would have stopped off at the shops on her way to work to buy something cheap and appropriate. Hell, she probably would have bought boxer shorts.

"Shit." She hissed under her breath.

What would Zayne think of her? Surely he'd think it was deliberate. She'd approached him for treatment, and she just so happened to be wearing semi-transparent lingerie? There was no way he'd find that coincidental. He'd think she was some sort of pervert. Was it too late to get out of here?

"Are you alright? Or are you struggling to get changed?" Zayne asked from the other side of the curtain. Her chest felt tight — how long had she been sat there worrying?

"No, I'm fine. I'm ready now." She panicked, blurting out the words despite herself, cursing internally as Zayne pulled back the curtain. The doctor said nothing as his eyes drank in the sight of her, nor did his expression give anything away — Not that she'd know, she avoided his gaze like the plague, staring intently at the floor. But despite his composure, Zayne certainly noticed her indelicate attire. And despite his healing instincts, and the rather prominent gash on her thigh, her panties were the very first thing that held his attention.

Zayne sat beside the bed, on the side of her injured leg, leaning in close to the cut. He took a long look at it, reticent as ever, before finally meeting her gaze.

"What time did this happen yesterday?"

"In the evening."

"And you didn't think to call me when it did?" Zayne pressed. Her words were trapped in her throat for a moment, before she finally pushed them out.

"Well... no. It was late, and it didn't seem so bad at the time."

"It's never too late to check yourself in to a hospital." Zayne stated the obvious. "Whether I was available or not, you should have had this seen to immediately." His tone was stern, his stare unwavering. She said nothing. "When something like this happens, you need to call me, no matter how late it is. I'm your primary care physician, it's what I'm here for. And if I can't see to you personally, I can find someone who can."

"I understand. I will do, next time."

"You really ought to take your health more seriously. You have a duty, as a hunter, to protect people. Lives depend on you. And you can't protect anybody if you can't take adequate care of yourself. Being anything less than thorough with your wellbeing is selfish, and neglectful of your duties." His words made her brows furrow, a mixture of annoyance and shame, but she still didn't respond.

"Injuries sustained through Wanderer attacks are more susceptible to infections. Some are serious, and fast-acting, as you should well know. I cannot stress enough the importance of getting wounds like these seen to as soon as possible—"

"I know, Doctor." She interrupted, a little snappy. "I told you already. I will next time, and I'm here now, aren't I?" But did she have any right to be annoyed with his tone? Deep down she knew she didn't, that she was only being stubborn, but she couldn't help herself.

"Please don't be so reckless next time." Zayne asked her, his tone softer, his eyes so tender she couldn't stand to look at them anymore. She couldn't take it when he scolded her.

The doctor sighed softly through his nose.

"This will need sutures, but I'll need to clean the wound and check for signs of infection first, which requires a physical examination. Is that alright?" His words nearly made her melt.

"That's fine." She composed herself well enough for an answer.

Zayne brought a gloved hand to her thigh, and although the gesture was purely clinical, she couldn't help the heat that rushed to the spot between her legs. His hands were cool, and his touch gentle, so gentle that if she closed her eyes and pictured a different context, it could've been a loving caress. Zayne pressed his fingers firmly against her thigh.

"Does that hurt?"

"No." She answered honestly. Zayne repeated the motion to the space surrounding her injury, his fingers travelling in a small circle, starting from the bottom of the cut, until they creeped inwards. Zayne gently pulled at her thigh, widening her legs as he continued his examination. She was trying her best not to react.

She cast her gaze downwards, to the fingers between her legs, and her heart dropped. From this angle, under the stark white lights, she was clearly exposed. Nothing was left to the imagination. She was so embarrassed she nearly screamed, looking to Zayne to try and gauge his reaction — but she couldn't. He was too focused on the task at hand.

Her breath became shaky as she observed the way he prodded at her, how his fingers crept ever-closer to her arousal. Just one budge in the opposite direction and those tough, broad hands would be swept over her cunt. Imagining how his fingertips would tickle the mesh of her panties was enough to make her wet.

She heard her name in the recesses of her mind, and then again. Only the second time did she realise it was coming from Zayne's lips.

She snapped back to reality, looking back at him with eyes wider than intended. He stared back at her with a cutting gaze.

"I asked you whether it hurt, where I was touching you." He repeated. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was a few moments before she could cough the words out.

"No— no, sorry. I was a million miles away." She chuckled sheepishly.

Zayne looked back at her, giving nothing away. How exciting, he thought, that he could tell exactly what was going through her mind, yet she didn't have a clue what he was thinking? Zayne was extraordinarily good at hiding his emotions, but his patient? Not so much.

She was embarrassed, that much was clear. Whether the lingerie was a wardrobe malfunction or a bold decision she quickly came to regret, he wasn't sure.

What was also clear was that she liked it — what he declined to express was that he did too.

How could he not? If it were anybody else, he wouldn't give such scandalous attire a second thought. As a doctor, he was indiscriminate; a body was just a body. He'd seen the hidden corners of countless beautiful women and it never swayed his commitment to his work or hindered his professionalism — not once. But she was different. Surely, despite how reserved he was, she could tell that she was different? That this tension between them was all but ordinary?

"I don't believe you have an infection, but I'd like to see you in a week for observation. If anything changes, let me know immediately." He told her, his tone as stoic as ever. Yet his hand lingered at her inner thigh, so close to her cunt she was sure he could feel the heat through his gloves. Eventually, he did move his hand. Despite his feelings, there was a more pressing matter at hand.

Zayne then proceeded with the usual cleaning and dressing procedures, and she suppressed a hiss as he swabbed the wound with antiseptic. During this entire exchange, she'd been uncharacteristically quiet, whereas Zayne was as quiet as usual. The silence was unbearable, she wasn't sure she could ever recall a time where she'd felt so awkward that it hurt. Her body was so tense, and her lust swelled so needily that she couldn't suppress the words that left her mouth next.

"I'm sorry about the underwear." She blurted, her apology cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. But it didn't take long for the searing metal to scorch her skin — she regretted the words almost the moment she'd said them.

Zayne paused, placing down the suture needle he was prepping before staring straight back at her. There was a hint of mirth behind his eyes, that came into fruition through a small, teasing smile.

"Don't apologise." His tone was gentle and neutral.

Did he say that so things wouldn't be uncomfortable, or because he liked the look of them?

"I didn't wear these because I knew you'd see them, all my other pairs hadn't dried. And I wasn't even going to see you in the first place, I only did because Jenna told me to!" She couldn't help but explain herself, a grimace on her face, but Zayne remained quiet as he brought the needle to the cut.

The anaesthetic numbed the pain. She felt uncomfortable again, with Zayne's sudden silence. She wondered whether he'd respond at all, whether she'd made things too awkward, but Zayne was simply mulling over the best thing to say.

"You don't usually wear lingerie to work, then?" He enquired, meeting her gaze once he'd pulled the stitch through. She chuckled bashfully, dipping her head.

"No. Never. They've been irritating me all day." Zayne hummed at this, continuing with his sutures. "Why, would you prefer it if I did?"

She wasn't sure where such boldness had come from. Likely it was that her lips below were talking for the ones above, despite how twisted up she felt inside. Yet again, she quickly regretted her pitiful attempt at flirting, until Zayne seemed to bite.

He met her eyes again, his smile wider now. He loved seeing her so playful. "I'm not sure I can come up with an answer that's both professional and true."

Her desire burned at his words, so brightly that she swore she could feel a hole forming in her chest. She clenched, unwittingly, never had she been so eager to feel him. A Cheshire-cat smile stretched across her face, the type of smile that she was sure made her look silly, yet Zayne found it endearing.

She began to laugh, though at first it was deep in the pit of her stomach, and Zayne continued with his work. But she couldn't help her laughter, the swell of emotions overtaking her. Embarrassed, yet immensely satisfied. How unexpected that things were beginning to work out for her?

Zayne finished the sutures, gathering fresh gauze as he began to dress the wound, amused by her reaction. "Do you truly find me that funny?" He asked in a level tone, and her laughter died down so that she could respond.

"Zayne, you are the furthest thing from funny." Though she didn't elaborate, as there was no need. Her belly full of butterflies was clear without words. The doctor hummed and finished dressing the wound.

She watched him as quiet settled over them again, but this time it wasn't an awkward silence. Instead, it was charged with sexual tension. Zayne stopped looking at her thigh in favour of the warmth between her legs. He stared, unabashedly, and the look on his face struck a bolt of fresh arousal through her heart.

He took his gloves off, then slowly, he reached over, tracing his fingertip over the lacy edge of her underwear. "Why do you have underwear like this anyway? Do you have a partner?" He asked her. She thought he sounded almost a little possessive, but it was clear another man in the picture wouldn't stop him anyways. His eyes flitted up to hers.

Her face felt hot at the question. Goosebumps prickled up across her skin in an instant, her cunt twitching from the subtle contact. "No."

"No?" He tested, taking his finger directly over her heat, stroking it up and down over the thin mesh of her panties. He could feel her wetness soaking through, and the way she twitched under his touch. "Then I'm right to assume that these are only for me?" There was a mischievous glint in his eye, one that she mirrored.

"That's right."

Her answer pleased him. She spread her legs a little wider, resisting the urge to moan despite the fact he'd hardly touched her. Zayne slipped his fingers beneath her underwear, finally feeling her properly. The sensation made her gasp.

He merely trailed his touch along the length of her cunt, between her folds, sticky with her slick. He was teasing her, taking his precious time as he lapped up the look on her face.

"You're already so wet."

His voice was collected. He was completely in control, while the woman at the end of his fingers was quickly unravelling by the second. She said nothing, releasing a shaky breath. Zayne stood, sitting opposite her on the table.

He took his fingers from the lips below to the ones above, tracing them gently, before taking hold of her jaw. He pulled her forward, and their lips collided in a greedy kiss. She poured her desire into him, clasping him tightly, pulling him closer, her eyes clenched shut as he expelled the tension from her form.

Yet Zayne, as always, appeared composed. He parried her hungry affections effortlessly, his grip on her jaw becoming firm. Zayne led the charge, as he guided her lips against his, eventually setting their pace. She slowed down to appreciate him, but before long the kiss was broken. Zayne pulled away with a soft smile, his lips a little puffy as he pressed them chastely to her cheek.

He brought his fingers to her lips again. "Suck them for me." His command was gentle without losing its timbre, and she obeyed, sucking on the digits without question, briefly, until he pulled them out of her mouth. Zayne brought his wetted fingers back to her cunt, pulling her underwear to one side and sticking his fingers firmly against her.

She huffed at the sensation. His fingers were still a little cold, warmer now thanks to her mouth. She clenched, feeling empty, needing him inside of her.

Zayne rolled his fingers over her clit, and not too slowly, which took her by surprise. She moaned already, widening her legs for him. He wore a focused expression, lust sparking beneath his pointed gaze.

He sat more comfortably between her legs, taking her thigh, before inserting a finger into her cunt. She whined, though she was wet enough to offer no resistance. He pushed it deep inside of her in one, smooth motion.

She clenched tightly with her core, as if to hold on to him, wanting to keep him inside of her, sighing as he pulled his finger out, only for him to add a second.

This was a tighter fit. She moaned, trying to keep her voice down, angling her hips up to feel him better. Zayne slowly began to pump both his fingers, up deep inside of her then down to the tips. The friction of her walls against him was marvellous.

"You feel wonderful." He told her, his eyes locked on hers, fixed on every micromovement. Everything about her, from the sound of her voice, the small parting in her lips, the sight of her so uninhibited before him — it was poetry in motion. This woman, as capable and stubborn as she was, was helpless at his touch.

I do feel wonderful, she thought, scoffing at Zayne's compliment. She felt blissful, like a ball of a thousand knots had at once been untied, releasing a deep strain she'd been harbouring in her stomach. Ever since she'd reunited with Dr. Zayne, those ties had knotted. Every time she'd seen him, the palpable tension between them had grown and grown. Until now.

Zayne sat up straight, then hoisted her up, taking his fingers out briefly to pull her panties off entirely, carelessly discarding the item on the floor. It was only a momentary distraction — soon Zayne's fingers slipped past her walls yet again, though this time he was positioned beside her, his other arm hooked around her waist, holding her close.

He pumped his fingers faster, his motions mechanical, his rhythm never wavering, and she struggled to contain the sound of her mewls.

"Shh. You need to be quieter." He hushed her, gently. "As much as I love hearing you, the walls here aren't so thick." He managed a chuckle, dipping his head to her neck, pressing a short trail of kisses down its length. This made her shiver

"That's— that's the wrong way to get me to be quiet." She scolded, playfully, matching his smile. Her words were breathy and choppy from her efforts to conceal her pleasure.

"Noted." Zayne turned her head toward his, then caught her lips in another kiss, one more frenzied than the first. Zayne used his lips to muffle the noises coming out of hers, eating every moan and whine she poured into him. He pushed his fingers as deep as they could reach inside of her, stroking her walls with a beckoning motion. Meanwhile, he played with her clit with his thumb, breaking their kiss to observe her reactions.

She looked divine. Her lips were wet and inflamed, dripping with saliva, her hair tousled, her expression languid. And he could see how she tried so hard to keep quiet for him, how her whimpers bubbled in her mouth, how hard she breathed through her nose. She felt she must have looked silly, but Zayne didn't think so at all.

"So you can do what you're told?" He teased, sounding more playful than she'd ever heard him. She huffed at this, far too wound up to retort.

He suddenly began to pump his fingers again, faster than before, which took her time to adjust to. She gasped, but caught most of the sound in her mouth, her eyes fluttering shut.

She could feel her climax swelling. It couldn't be far away. Her body felt tight and hot, her face clenched with the torment of having to keep quiet. She held his hand, leaning into him, her movements becoming fidgety as she tried to channel her stimulation. Again, she clenched at Zayne's fingers, bucking her hips to take more of them. Seeing her so desperate for him was so exciting.

"You're doing so well." He didn't tease her anymore, cooing into her ear. His husky tone was enough to make her moan again, that one slipping right past her defences, ringing loud and clear. Oops.

She bit her lips, flashing Zayne an apologetic look, though he didn't seem to mind, nor did he slow down. Another pang of pleasure rippled through her, and at that she knew it was time.

"Zayne— I'm close—" She just about choked the words out, her hand coming to clamp her mouth shut. Somehow, in the heat of things, she'd forgotten she had that option.

He sped up a final time, his fingers flashing in and out of her with a series of thick squelches. Zayne fingered her like a machine, one clever in its design — to be so quick and accurate without being brutal. She felt her whole body tense, a flush of great heat washing over her, choking out her gasps as she buried her head in Zayne's shoulder. Then, at once, she reached her release.

Her body quickly went lax, the heat and strain fizzing out of her, skin tingling. It took her a few good gasps to regain her composure, eyes slowly opening. When she looked down, the light sheet on the table had been soaked through with her release, her legs glistening with sweat. Slowly, Zayne pulled his fingers out of her, earning a whine from the weary woman. He brought those fingers to his lips, sucking away her juices.

He sent her a smile, pulling her against his chest. "Did you like that?" Surely the answer was obvious, and she sent him a look that spoke a thousand words. His smile deepened. "I'm glad."

"I hope I wasn't too loud..." She mused, looking to Zayne, who leaned in to press a soft kiss to her temple. A delicate gesture that made her heart stir.

"You were. But don't worry about it." She scoffed at that, too tired to do anything but listen to him. Before she could return the favour and get Zayne off, she needed a few minutes to gather herself.

But Zayne didn't seem the least bit concerned about his own satisfaction — seeing her hit ecstasy was all he needed. He rubbed at her inner thigh, the one that wasn't injured, giving her a slightly regretful look.

"I have an appointment in twenty minutes, so unfortunately you're going to have to leave soon." The words weighed heavy on her chest, even though she knew that was stupid, nodding at Zayne with a cheeky smile.

"That's not a problem, I can make it quick." She reached over to the tent in Zayne's crotch, but he took her hand, moving it away.

"I can sort myself out." He assured her. She couldn't help but feel a little rejected. Sensing this, he stroked her cheek.

"You can make it up to me another time." They both smiled at that, staring at each other for what felt like hours.

"I'll never avoid making an appointment again."

They probably would have kept staring if it weren't for the startling knock at the door, and the concerned voice of one of the nurses that followed.

"Doctor Zayne? Is everything alright in there? I heard a lot of noise!"

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leviathanleva · 10 months ago

Text

Father

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Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader

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Request:

This is kind of a weird req and I want to write something for it eventually but-

Fem! Reader who was frozen but eventually escapes and falls for the Ghoul and they fuck a couple times and for some reason she has symptoms of pregnancy and they're like what the fuck but it just turns out that she was pregnant before she was frozen and the Ghoul's reactions and whatever. Angst or fluff I don't really mind :)

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[3.2k words]

[MDNI, Angst, Smut, Fluff]

[ I don't usually do requests, but I wanted to help out a friend who believed they wouldn't be able to do justice to this prompt. It's sloppy, not perfect, but time is limited and I have other projects that need my attention so I hope this suffices. ]

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Freedom.

Freedom was sweet.

Freedom was bitter.

Since the moment you’d awoken in that Gods-forsaken cryo pod in that wasting away vault you’d known there was no other path except the path of freedom. Stepping over mummified corpses, fellow vault dwellers you presumed, you’d lead wobbly legs and a pounding heart to the entrance of the vault. It felt like yesterday you’d first set foot in there. In reality, you had no idea how many years had passed, but from the looks of the rusting walls and thick blanket of dust, it had been a while.

You took what you could, stuffing a stray children’s backpack you’d found along your scavenging mission, anything and everything that would be necessary for a journey into a land you used to call home. A small pocket knife was the best you could get and it wasn’t the perfect self-defense tool, but with no other choice there wasn’t much you could do but stuff it in the pocket of your suit and hope for a miracle if you ran into trouble.

And trouble you found.

Since your first step into the bone-dry, scalding hot, merciless wasteland, you’d found trouble in the shape of a deranged group of people hammering at the vault door with makeshift weapons. You might have been able to fight off one of them, you doubted given how dizzy and out-of-touch with reality you were, but there was a slim chance. Three of them though, all large burly men with enough scars to put a military general to shame? No, that was impossible. You ended up a writhing mess on the ground, face pushed into the cracked soil and screaming and kicking as you were being taunted and tied up like a good catch after a successful hunt. Trafficking, cannibalism, organ harvesting, death. A slew of words so vile they made your stomach churn and your eyes bulge out of your skull because who in their right mind said such things to an outnumbered, weak woman who pleaded in a broken voice and had tears staining her cheeks?

Then he appeared, your guardian angel.

A man so grotesque on the outside, so vicious and bitter and terrifying, and yet he was the one who shot your captors down. He was the one who cut your wrists and ankles free and helped you sit up as you heaved and choked and sobbed. He was the one who checked you over despite the visible revulsion on his gaunt face at the sight of your vault suit. He’d dragged you to your feet, forced some sense into you, given you a stern reality check of the world he came from and never really shooed you away when you’d started following him around like a lost pup.

You loved him since that day.

And maybe it wasn’t the good kind of love because he’d used you as a distraction for his enemies more than once and never shared his water with you even if you were on the brink of passing out from dehydration. But he also let you sit close to the fire at night, told you stories of his bounty hunts, taught you how to handle a gun and always kept you in his sights lest someone thought you were up for grabs. He was a cruel man, but he was also a kind man.

You never overstepped. Always following his every order, whether it was to hide, to strip bleeding men of their valuables, or to get him another drink when his feet were kicked high and he couldn’t be bothered to do so himself. Always pliant, always willing, no questions asked because you wanted to live despite the hellhole reality you were thrust in. Maybe that’s why he grew fond of you over time, you didn’t rebel against him and took what he gave you with a whisper of gratitude. A good dog, that’s how he saw you. He slowly softened for you, split your rations evenly when you sat down to eat, thrust the canteen in your hands when he noticed your lips were dry, and smushed his hat over your head when the sun was too awful and you were too delicate to withstand it.

Cooper Howard, that was his name, a man made ghoul by the sheer toxicity of the surface, a man who gave you enough scraps to keep your love for him flourishing but never progressed things beyond a one-sided infatuation.

That is until he was left struggling on the floor of an old abandoned farmhouse, a feral ghoul looming above him and pinning him in place and snapping its jaws at him as foul-smelling, viscous drool dribbled down its chin. His hunting knife was gripped tightly, but between keeping himself from being bitten to shreds and holding one of the ghoul’s hands at bay before it could sink into his side and tear at his gut, he was stuck.

When the shot rang out and the ghoul slumped against him lifelessly, he saw you. Holding his gun as you shook violently, about ready to piss yourself because you’d never killed anything remotely resembling a human in your life, eyes wide and lips trembling and knees buckling. Smoke leisurely rose from the tip of the barrel and as he pushed the corpse off himself you sunk to your arse and burst into a fit of haggard breaths and disturbed whines.

You didn’t resist when he picked you up with alien tenderness, didn’t protest when he stuffed you in an old rickety couch and crushed you beneath his weight with a handful of sweet praises. You didn’t pull away in disgust when his tongue pushed past your lips in search of your own, twirling, dancing, letting words spill without ever being spoken. He wasn’t gentle, since the moment you heard his belt unbuckling he was all pawing hands and chopped curses, fiddling with your clothes until his need became too much to bear and he simply ripped them off. He threw a weak promise to get you new ones, but you couldn't care less at that moment. High-pitched mewls and desperate grunts bounced off the walls as he took you on that couch, rutting into you like a man possessed and gripping onto you so firmly as if you’d come to your senses any moment now and run away from him.

A radstorm raged outside, clashing against the boarded-up windows as the pitter-patter of acid rain poured against the tin roof. You never even noticed, too drunk on the sloppy sounds coming from the slick mess of your conjoined bodies, on the verge of a climax so raw it would surely knock you out. Blunt fingernails sank in your supple thighs, scarred hips slammed into yours as he fucked you dumb into the couch. His mouth never left yours, whether it was to keep himself quiet in case too many loving words escaped or because he craved your taste like a rabid dog did blood, you didn’t know. When your ankles locked around his waist he snarled, whatever self-control he’d managed to scrape by completely dissipating as he drove himself deeper. The tip of his cock snapped against the barrier of your squishy cervix so deliciously and you screamed his name in desperation and he couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He released one of your hips to slide a hand between your bodies and drag his rough thumb over your swollen clit. Your back arched, eyes rolled back and mouth agape as you bombarded him with barely coherent sentences that he didn’t deserve. He clutched at your hair when you clamped down on him, milking him for everything he had while he rocked out his release with face stuffed in the crook of your neck.

Something in him changed after that night.

It might have been the unfathomably long time without a caring touch or him finally succumbing to the little voices in his head telling him what he held for you wasn’t simply fondness. He took you every chance he got. In a guest house, against the wall of a bar after one too many drinks, bent over on a chewed-up fence after scavenging another farmhouse. He was relentless and you loved that about him. You loved everything about him. Always needy and ready and he couldn’t ask for more because this was the closest he could get to expressing himself when it came to you.

Life was good.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You wince as the needle prickles your skin before retracting back in the Pip-boy. The green screen whirls, loading up and analyzing your blood sample for a full body scan. You give the damn thing a few smacks when it freezes and stutters.

Now really wasn’t the time for technical difficulties.

“You okay?”

Apparently, no matter how hard you had tried to hide your bubbling panic, it was still evident enough for Cooper to notice. He’s looking at you with a hint of suspicion, attention averted from the steaming can of cram he’d been stuffing in his mouth.

“I’m good, no worries.” you muster up a weary smile and instinctively tuck the Pip-boy closer to your stomach.

When the Vault Boy pops up on the screen with all the information available regarding your condition, you tense up. Your fingers hesitate to turn the cog to the main body scan as doubts and confusion and raw, untamable fear chew at your sensitive stomach and tug you slowly towards the gates of insanity.

“Don’t look okay to me.” Cooper straightens from his slouched-over position over the measly fire and sets aside his food before clasping a hand over one of his thighs. “Was wrong? Was I too rough again?” there’s a teasing scowl brightening his usually stoic expression, he scoffs and shakes his head. “I told you t’ smack my shoulder when I get too loose, woman. You never listen.”

You want to cry and laugh, but you do neither.

“That’s not it, Cooper.”

“Then speak for fuck’s sake!” he grumbles and gestures to you with slight agitation.

You pay him no mind, having delved too deep in the premises of your mind on what you were supposed to do if you read that single life-changing word on the scan. With a huff and a mental pat on your back, you turned the cog and opened the main body scan.

“Pregnant.”

It made sense. It explained the morning sickness that you hid, being forced out of your sleep while Cooper snored lightly next to you, and carefully pulling away before rushing to a safe spot where you could empty your stomach without being seen. You never told him, just jammed RadAway after RadAway, hoping it was poisoning or maybe some sort of flu. When the cravings came, you started second-guessing. You never gave into them, throwing caps left and right for a slice of some nearly impossible-to-get delicacy was unthinkable, you had to survive and there was no room for luxury.

You failed to spot the rugged ghoul as he left his seat and crept closer, spurred by your awkward demeanor, until he was kneeling right next to you and silently sharing the sight of the green graph.

“What in the hell…”

You recoiled at his words, at his realization, and tried to cover the Pip-boy with your hand and hide the thunderous revelation of your condition.

He was having none of it.

He smacked your hand away and gripped your forearm so tight you shuddered, bringing it closer to his eyes as his face contorted.

“What the fuck does this mean?” he spits and looks at you with something vile in those whiskey-colored eyes you loved so much.

“I don’t – ” you swallow thickly, crumbling under his gaze and snuffing out the need to rip away from him and run. You meet his stare for a split second before turning away. “ – I haven’t…Not with anyone except you.”

Lightning strikes into his core and he pulls away like bitten by a snake.

“The hell you mean you haven’t fucked anyone ‘cept me?” he stands, intimidating and cold, berating you with just his visage and nothing more. “How the fuck did you get pregnant then?”

“I’ve been with you since the day I left the vault, you know this.” you reach out for him, desperate for some sort of comfort, desperate for him to calm down because you couldn’t mentally take on both him and the news. “Cooper, please.”

He shoots you down with a snarl and a spine-chilling glare.

“Don’t fucken’ touch me.”

He’s pacing, trotting around like a cornered animal, the spurs on his boots clinking, a sickening cacophony that roots you in place and keeps your mouth shut. You don’t know what to say, you’re not a liar, yet you wish this was some twisted joke and you could laugh it off and confirm it wasn’t real.

A hand is rubbing vigorously at his chin as he tries to think, but there’s nothing in his head except that one single word that means so much and makes absolutely no sense.

He knew you weren’t lying, he’d always kept you within arm’s length, there was no way for you to even sneak past him without being noticed.

It still hurt though, the image of you leaving because he was a rotten man who’d struck gold by finding you. He was no good for you, never would be, and it tore him to shreds because he knew all of this and still he kept you by his side and cocked his gun at anyone who tried to step too close.

Why wouldn’t you bed another man when he looked like a walking corpse and acted even worse? Why wouldn’t you ditch him to be with a nice bartender or a good-mannered farmboy who would treat you like a lady should be treated?

Why wouldn’t you cheat him out of the only happiness he had?

“Is not fucking possible, Sweetheart.” he finally speaks, faltering at your audible sobs. The idea of you slipping past his fingers to sleep with someone else is pushed to the side by the absolutely pathetic sight of you curled up on the floor and crying.

Ghouls were sterile, all of them, 100%, there was no way for him to knock you up even if he wanted to. But the Pip-boy said otherwise and now he was left questioning the very foundation of his existence.

“I know that.” you sputter through choppy hiccups. “But you’re the only man I’ve been with...It doesn’t make fucking sense.” you clutch at your sides, waterfalls streaming down your cheeks and pooling under your chin, eyes distant and jittery. “What if it’s deformed because of the radiation? Or if it’s not even alive? Or – What am I supposed to do…”

His body moves despite his protests.

He kneels in front of you, encasing you between his thighs, his fingers twitching and rising as he drowns in the long-forgotten feeling of being presented with such news. His hands are shaking and he rests them over your shoulders and pretends he can’t feel his pulse rampaging in his throat.

“What do you wanna do?”

It’s such a simple question, but coming from him under such a premise makes your head spin and your heart stop.

“I – ” you press your forehead against the center of his collarbones, arms protectively curling over your belly because despite not showing there was someone in there. Someone precious. “ – I don’t know…I’d like to – I don’t know.”

You stop and start, cutting off words that you weren’t ready to tell him yet and he wasn’t ready to hear either. But life didn’t care if you were ready or not, things happened, consent or not, and now you were both stuck in a mess you’d unwittingly made all by yourselves. There was always the easy route – find a settlement, get to the doc, have it removed, done deal, easy peasy.

But did you really want that?

It wasn’t just your kid, it was his too and him not saying a word, not even mentioning discarding it made things so much harder.

No, he gave you a choice, he put everything in your hands and he was holding you while you fought a silent battle that would dictate the entirety of your future.

“I think – ”

“ – I ain’t goin’ fucken’ nowhere.” he slices through your hesitation like butter, body rigid and jaw clenched because for once he was trying to be a man and not a monster.

Maybe even a father.

You shatter in his arms like glass and he presses one of his palms against the back of your head while the other circles your waist and brings you closer.

“You’d stay?” you ask with such horror and disbelief that it clutches at his chest and he struggles to breathe. You’re no coward, despite how heavy the air feels, you look up at him and you’re so vulnerable and angelic that he forgets every setback that would come his way. “If I kept it…you’d stay?”

He can’t answer, the words refuse to form, but he holds your gaze with calm stability, a good masquerade to hide a mind that was racing and a heart that was pounding so heavily he felt his entire body pulsing. Instead, he leaned in and pressed his chapped lips against your forehead in a voiceless promise.

You suck in a breath like it’s your first and cling to the collar of his coat, disappearing in his form, hiding from the world that was so cruel yet gifted you with something so precious.

The Pip-boy is still lit and waiting, the scan bright and piercing. You skim over it absentmindedly, a simple curious flick, then look again and squint your eyes at the tiny text printed under your pregnancy announcement.

“Four months.”

You’d only been out of cryo for three…

He followed your wide-eyed stare, he was no fool, he could do basic math.

You’d been pregnant before meeting him, before leaving the vault, before the bombs.

You want to puke. You want to rip your skin off and bury yourself alive because for the love of God it couldn’t be just perfect, there had to be some sick underlying thing to ruin everything. It wasn’t his, he was right, ghouls couldn’t have children.

It wasn’t his child.

You look disgusted and utterly pained because the realization makes you mourn at the idea of carrying his baby. You wanted to, you’d give anything for it to be his and not some random bloke you couldn’t even remember the face of. You wanted it to be his…

You search his face for anger or disappointment or anything that would prepare you for what was to come. Why would he stay if the damn thing wasn’t even his? He had his own problems, his mission. You were just an obstacle that had nearly made him believe he was going to be a father and maybe it was his second chance at doing it right.

There was nothing though.

He simply blinked at you, lips parted as he formed a sentence that had you pledge yourself to him for as long as you stood and breathed.

“That don’t change a damn thing.”

Masterlist

Tag list: @bountydroid @v3lv3tf0x @silverose365

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv series #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul fallout #x reader

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songmingisthighs · 1 month ago

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[4.38] mafia!hongjoong × reader

⇀ boisterous and loud is one thing, but a couple who dare fight in public? madness

⇁ honestly i'm so much into this type of hongjoong

wc : 1.3 k

rating : mature; strong language, disruptive behaviour, basic premise of illegal lifestyle

warning : cussing, violence, depiction of criminal life, unsavoury language and actions

discretion : the author does not support any and all depiction of criminal activities in this story, anything and everything written is published for the sake of fantasy. read at your own discretion.

"YOU MISERABLE SON OF A BITCH!"

A whack echoed the pristine corridor of a hotel, accompanying the sound of a woman fighting with her husband in public. "Ow! You-" Hongjoong was about to scream back at you but you swung your purse once again towards him but missed as he ducked just in time. "Come on you big baby, you can get a gun shot or two but God forbid your wife smack some sense into you with a Birkin," you scoffed, dusting imaginary dust off of your custom dyed Birkin bag that became your choice of weapon that night.

Your husband glared at you and huffed, "Do we have to do this right now? You're acting like a crazy bitch when we are in PUBLIC!" He spoke the last part so loudly that people around you jumped in surprise before slowly trying to disperse in fear because they knew who you two were. How could they not? Everyone in the top social class knows all about the suave "businessman" and his wife who controlled not only the commodity trading market but also the government. Some people called Hongjoong a mafia but he called himself an entrepreneur. But at that moment, Kim Hongjoong was just a husband. Well, YOUR husband.

"You call me a crazy bitch one more time Kim Hongjoong and I will give you the beating your mother should've given you all those years ago," you huffed, challenging him. Hongjoong laughed sarcastically as he clapped his hands, "Oh I'm sorry your majesty, what would you prefer? Hot head? Lunatic? Psycho?"

It was a common knowledge around the people around you that you and your husband butt heads A LOT and neither one of you cared where you two were when an argument broke out. While some people were initially concerned, it was later revealed by the two of you that it was through arguing did you two fell in love with each other. So all the cussing and name calling and dragging ancestors and family members only amplified your passion for one another. Which was why Hongjoong felt the need to grab an antique vase from a display and smashed it to the ground.

Almost immediately, a person rushed over with his face all red and breath huffy. "Hey asshole, did you just smash that vase to the ground?" He had the audacity to ask and Hongjoong barely gave him a glance over with an eyebrow raised, "Yeah I did, so?" The answer only made the man frustrated because he suddenly waved over for the security guards stationed nearby to come before he glared at you two with his arms propped on his waist. "Are you fucking kidding me? That was a VERY expensive antique that my dad, the OWNER of this hotel got at an auction in London. Do any of you know what London is? Of course you don't what with your fake Birkin and cheap outfits. Go back to the dingy mannerless hole you're used to, filthy animals,"

The man whom you identified as the son of the hotel owner, which is ironically one of your husband's business partner as he had a share in the property, barely finished his words before he too got a good smack on his shoulder by your Birkin. As he recovered from the impact, he was met with your fiery glare and even with only one step forward, you seem to tower over the taller man in protection of your husband's honour. "Don't you fucking talk to my husband like that. Who the hell do you think you are?" The man glared at you and opened his mouth as he was about to answer, you beat him to it by slapping him across the face, "Think first and think well before you answer me, little boy, or I'll use your nutsack as a pin cushion." Seeing you so mad from seeing your husband being treated so disrespectfully by a Chad wannabe, Hongjoong sighed and tried to step in, "Honey, let's just go have that dinner, okay? He's not worth all the huffing and scolding," He put his hands on your shoulders gently but you turned around and pointed at him, your glare now directed at your husband. "Your nutsack is already mine by law Kim Hongjoong, don't make me exercise my legal rights," you warned.

All of the commotion and audience gathered (rather far away from the three of you because people were scared) managed to catch the attention of the Hotel Manager who jogged over with a smile on his face. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Kim, how are we doing?" it was a stupid question but one portraying his anxiety. You raised an eyebrow at him and nodded to the now silenced asshole, still recovering from being slapped by a stranger, "Do you know this little bitch?" you asked, the vulgarity of your language did not phase the Manager whatsoever.

"Little bitch? Who the fuck are you calling a-" he was about to grab you by the shoulder, taking advantage of your momentary shift of attention like the coward that he is. But before he could reach you, Hongjoong, having been trained in self-defense, easily grabbed the asshole's wrist and twisted it around before pushing him to the ground, causing him to scream in pain from the position. "Ow! What the fuck!? Let me go! Don't you know who my father is!?" the man screamed which only made Hongjoong smirk in something akin to satisfaction.

The manager stepped in close to Hongjoong, almost in a pleading way, "Mr. Kim, please excuse the young Mr. Son here, he doesn't really know any better and I will see to it that he will be educated on our esteemed patrons myself," he pleaded. You scoffed at him incredulously and your eyes rolled with annoyance, "Esteemed patron? My husband invested for the majority of the development project, my husband is not just an esteemed partner, my husband is the only person who can call himself the damn sultan of this place if he wanted to." "R-right, my apologies Mrs. Kim, I will educate myself and young Mr. Son here so would you please let him go so I can escort him out myself, Mr. Kim?" The manager added, reaching to grab the still whimpering man from Hongjoong's grasp.

Luckily, Hongjoong got bored from listening to his pathetic noises so he just let him go and stepped over him to stand next to you, allowing the Manager to immediately get the man up. "Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim, I hope you two have a pleasant evening and I will let the kitchen know to prepare you a special dessert. On me," the man said as he hurriedly ushered the now weeping boy off before he could face another round of your wrath.

"You know," Hongjoong smirked as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, "You look so hot when you're defending your husband, Mrs. Kim," he said before he leaned to peck your cheek. You rolled your eyes in feigned annoyance but the satisfied smirk on your face completely gave your truth away as you wrapped an arm around Hongjoong's waist, "You better not doubt that your dear wife will defend your honour, Mr. Kim," you pointed out, kissing him back on the corner of his mouth.

"So can we do it in the ass?" he added.

Your smile hardened and Hongjoong got his first response when your elbow dug into his stomach, causing him to sputter. "You can take that offer and shove it up your own ass, fucking prick," you spat before you walk away to the restaurant by yourself, swaying your hips intentionally to make a point to your husband.

Though in pain, Hongjoong couldn't help but chuckle as he stared at you, feeling his heart thump when you turned around slightly to give him a once-over. People called him crazy for "letting" his "old lady" "disrespect" him like how "she always does" but what they could never understand was that the "disrespect" was your fire, and your fire was what tied Hongjoong to you. Your fire was what made him so addicted to you. And he had no plans on letting that go anytime soon.

networks :

@sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

permalist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @itasluv @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @stopeatread

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denicienta1 · 11 days ago

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Chapter 5: First Date

You're finally going on a date with your long-time crush. Will you start planning a future together or will a certain hotshot rookie get in the way?

#face off: a hot shot story #face off: a hot shot story choices #choices face off: a hot shot story #hot shot #hot shot choices #choices hot shot #choices vip #choices vip book #choices stories you play #pixelberry #pixelberry studios #playchoices #denicienta1

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vivalgi · 3 months ago

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Wow, surprised the December Choices Insiders was sent out so early 😮

The MC may be a better person compared to the rest of their family but they're still a rich spoiled a-hole and can be an equally dirty player. So, it should be a fun experience. Now, if only PB bothered to fix the uncanny character art, instead of me having to do it myself again.

Finally, Alpha is going to be the story most people were hoping from it inititally. Maybe that will actually motivate me to suffer through the first book.

Not a fan how a modern sports hoodie is worn under an otherwise traditional outfit. A woolen sweater would have been a better choice. And what is up with werewolves skinning actual wolves and wearing their fur? Do they not get along or something?

I already knew about the first 3 books being GOC but I'm surprised Face Off isn't mentioned there either. Does it mean that, unlike Hot Shot, the spin-off will be gender locked? That would suck since it seems the MC will finally be the one to wear ice skates. It's like many recent sequels and spin-offs are about giving the players what they were actually expecting from the first books.

Let's see what the new book lead has come up for ID3. I otherwise enjoyed book 2 and thought it was better than the first 1 in general. Hopefully this time the male MC also has better quality dialogue, since the steamy scenes in book 2 only had separate branching for male and female LIs.

AT LAST, we're getting a mention of the dystopian book the ex-CEO mentioned in spring!

Not much to look forward as a non-VIP though. I'm not much into holiday specials or short books in general. Bitten and Years Apart have gender locked MC and male coded LIs so it's an automatic skip. The early AI draft of Do No Harm sucked majorly and I'm afraid to continue the COP series since the male MC has been totally butchered, which is especially weird because the new book lead is a guy! Not that the MC acted as themselves in the proposal book regardless their gender. I doubt PB is ever gonna fix that.

#playchoices #choices insiders #inheritance #alpha 2 #face off: a hot shot story #immortal desires 3 #unnamed dystopian book #do no harm #the holiday bakeoff #crimes of passion 3 #boardroom alpha

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jasmines-library · 1 year ago

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Hey I don't know if you've ever done a Winchester!sister story with the sister being really young and also much younger then her brothers, so I don't know if you would be able to do this request for me but I really hope you can:)

Anyway the request is 2 year old reader wakes her brothers up by crying and they get up and find her in her crib her onsie pajamas buttons is open as if she tried to get rid of it and then when Dean picks her up he feels the heat radiating from her.

Both Dean and Sam know they have to take care of the situation. Dean takes her temperature, and they find out she is sick and they take care of her and so on and so on. This is just a type of summary so you can change things as much as you like. I love a good fluff and angst story;)

Loveee your writing and can't wait for this story❤️❤️❤️

Sick Bug

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Summary: When you wake up feeling sick, your big brothers are there to help make you feel better.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Sickness

Exciting sidenote: I am 2 followers away from 1K!!

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

You were crying again. Poor baby had been restless all day, tossing and turning as if you were trying to escape a force that wasn’t there. At first your brothers thought you were just over tired: the three of you had been on the road all day. Travelling with a toddler was dangerous business, so Sam and Dean tried not to do it often, but with Cas MIA and Bobby out of town they were left with no choice.

They had lay you down to rest not too long ago, but you had been restless since then. You had protested being put to bed in the first place, clinging to Dean with your little hands but after some coaxing he had managed to get you to sleep. That and you were absolutely exhausted and struggling to keep your little eyes open.

Then your eyes had come flying open and your little whimpers filled the room. You were too hot and felt like you were going to suffocate as your squirmed, trying your unbutton your pyjamas. Your head ached and your sinuses were uncomfortably blocked, throwing you off balance.

Dean rose slowly from his slumber, altered by your cries. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he made his way to your crib where you were sat up trying to struggle out of your onesie. Sam rolled over to glance at your from his bed. He hadn’t really been sleeping, but seeing as Dean had made his way over to you he didn’t feel the need to.

“What’s the matter, huh sweetheart?” Dean frowned as he reached out to pick you up. Your arms reached out instinctively to grab him as you continued to cry.

The second you were in Deans arms he became increasingly worried about the warmth that radiated off of you and he shot a look to Sam who, at his brothers concerning lack of speech, clambered out of bed and moved cumbersomely towards you.

You buried your face into the crook of Deans’s neck trying to hide from the ache. His skin provided some relief and you sniffled. Dean further furrowed his brow. Your skin was hot. Too hot.

“Sweetheart?” Dean tried to coax your face away from his neck. He brushed away the stray hairs that your cold flush of sweat had plastered to the edge of your face before pressing his palm to your forehead. “She’s warm, Sammy.”

“You feeling poorly, kiddo?” Sam asked, taking you from Deans arms. You clung to him closely and nodded feebly.

Dean moved quickly towards the first aid kit, rummaging around for the thermometer as Sam bounced you up and down gently in his arms to try and soothe you a little. The eldest Winchester’s movements were somewhat panicked as he pulled out the glass cylinder.

“Alrighty sweetheart, open up.” He tried to persuade you to place the tube under your tongue. When you finally stopped trying to turn your tired face away and they had convinced you to hold it in your mouth for long enough, Sam pulled out to reveal that the line had skyrocketed to 101.

“Fever.” Sam confirmed, showing his brother the thermometer. He shifted you in his arms. “Explains why she can’t sleep.”

Suddenly you were overtaken by a fit of harsh, dry coughs that tore through you. Sam winced, rubbing you back gently.

“S’mmy…” you blubbered gripping his shirt tightly.

“Shh. It’s alright sweetheart we’ve got you.” Sammy moved over to the bed, still cradling you in his arms. He looked up at Dean. Realistically he knew that you would be fine, but he had never dealt with anything like this before and it worried him.

Dean on the other hand knew how to handle the situation. He had dealt with Sammy being ill plenty of times when he was younger. But when he looked at your flushed and sweaty cheeks and the way your body shivered ever so slightly, he couldn’t help but feel awful. As though he should have found someone to take care of you instead. But watching you curled up in his brother’s arms he realised he had more pressing matters to worry about.

Moving back to the first aid box, he pulled out a dose of medicine, cursing silently when you were overrun by another coughing fit. It was followed by another whimper. Sam slowly removed the outer layer of your onesie hoping that he could cool you down quicker. Still you clung to him closely, too young to understand that you might get him sick as you sniffled against him, but Sam didn’t care. He would risk being sick if it meant taking away your pain.

“Here we go sweetheart.” Dean wandered back over, a cool glass of water on one hand and a medicine in the other: one of those small sachets that they kept on hand in case of emergencies. “This will help you feel all better.” He promised.

Reaching out you held onto the cup, and with Deans help took a few sips. The icy water soothed the back of your throat and you sighed in content, setting back into Sam a little. It took a little more convincing for you to take the medicine. Tired and overwhelmed you had tried to refuse the bitter taste. But in the end Sam had promised you that you would feel much better if you took it, so reluctantly you let the liquid slide over your tongue.

It wasn’t long after that that you began to grow tired. Your little eyes struggled to stay awake as you lay curled up in Sam’s lap. Dean had perched beside him, watching shitty cartoons to help keep him awake so he could monitor your temperature in case you got any worse. Though as your ragged breaths evened out into tiny half-snores, the medicine seemed to be doing its job as your temperature seemed to slowly fall back down to a slightly more normal number.

At some point, Sam had also fallen asleep. Rubbing circles on your back and smoothing over your hair had lulled him into slumber. Dean smirked and pulled the bedcovers over the two of you. It looked like you weren’t going back to your bed tonight.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

SPN TAGS:

@defonotashleyr

@aestheticdaisies

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

@inlovewhithafairytale

@harleycao

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

#supernatural x reader #supernatural x sister reader #hurt/comfort #sick fic #Sam Winchester #sam x sister reader #sam Winchester x sister reader #supernatural x little sister reader #Sam Winchester x little sister reader #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester x sister reader #Dean Winchester x little sister reader #spn #spn fanfic

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jazzy96scorpio · 11 days ago

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Daddy's Girl

Chapter 2 Love and Redemption

Description: Whoops! Looks like one night wasn't enough. 😉 You two are back at it, but things are way more complicated now. Your chemistry is undeniable, but your past is catching up to you. Prepare for some steamy moments, some tough choices, and a love story that's anything but predictable.

Pairing: You / Clint Age gap (early 20's/late 40's)

Word count: 4,400

Warnings ⚠️: Explicit adult content, strong language and sexual content, sex, some daddy/age-gap kink, oral sex, unprotected sex, SMUT, angst and fluff

The memory of Clint's touch, the raw intensity of the night before, lingered like a phantom limb. You replayed every moment in your head, the way his hands had moved on your body, the things he'd whispered in your ear, the sheer animalistic pleasure of it all. You'd never felt so… alive. So desired. You genuinely liked him, more than you probably should have, considering.

The next morning, you arrived at the video shop, a small smile playing on your lips. As you tidied up the back room, a glint of leather caught your eye. Clint's wallet. He'd left it behind. A small, practical part of you knew you should just leave it for him to collect, but a larger, more mischievous part of you saw an opportunity.

You decided to take it to the restaurant. It was a long shot, but you had a feeling he might be there. As you walked across the parking lot, your eyes scanned the rows of cars, searching for his familiar vehicle. And then you saw him.

He was sitting in his car, the engine running, but he wasn't going anywhere. And he wasn't alone. Another woman was with him, leaning in close. Too close. They were kissing.

A hot, possessive kiss that made your stomach clench. Jealousy, sharp and unexpected, pierced through you. You knew it was just one night. You knew it probably didn't mean anything. But still… it stung.

You forced yourself to walk closer, trying to appear nonchalant. As you got closer, you noticed something that made your anger falter. The woman was pregnant.

Suddenly, making a scene seemed… wrong. Not for your sake, but for hers.

You approached the car, your face carefully neutral. "Clint," you said, your voice even. "You left your wallet at the shop."

He startled, pulling away from the woman. His eyes widened in surprise, then quickly shifted to something unreadable. He took the wallet from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. "Thanks," he mumbled, his gaze darting between you and the woman.

"No problem," you replied, giving them both a polite nod. "Have a good day."

💔

You turned and walked away, your back to them, your heart a heavy weight in your chest. You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn't look back. You didn't want to see the expression on his face. You didn't want to know what he was thinking. You just wanted to get away, to escape the sting of rejection and the realization that maybe, just maybe, you'd been a fool to think it could be anything more than just one night.

Later that afternoon, the bell above the video shop door jingled, and you saw him. Clint.

He walked in, looking a little sheepish, a little… desperate. "Hey," he said, his voice tentative.

"Hi," you replied, your voice clipped, cold. You couldn't believe he had the nerve to show up after what you saw.

He could feel the chill radiating off you. He walked behind the counter, closing the small distance between you.

"I… I wanted to apologize," he said, his eyes searching yours.

"Apologize?" you scoffed, crossing your arms. "For what, exactly? Leaving your wallet? Or kissing another woman in broad daylight?"

"Both," he said quietly. "I messed up."

"Messed up?" you repeated, your voice rising. "That's putting it mildly, isn't it? You spent the night with me, you… you…" You couldn't even bring yourself to say it. "And then, the very next day, I see you kissing someone else. Someone pregnant, no less!"

"I know, I know," he said, his voice laced with regret. "It wasn't right. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Clint," you snapped. "What did you think? That I wouldn't find out? That I wouldn't care?"

"I… I wasn't thinking," he admitted. "I was an idiot. I really wanted you. That night… it was… something special."

"Special?" you scoffed. "Special enough to forget you have another girlfriend? Special enough to forget she is pregnant?"

His face fell. "I… I should have told you," he said. "I'm married. My wife… she's due in a few weeks."

The anger inside you flared. "You're married?" you hissed. "And you have the audacity to come here, after everything, and tell me that now?"

You slapped him, hard, your hand stinging. "Get out, Clint. Get out of my shop. Get out of my life."

He flinched at the slap, his eyes filled with pain. "Please," he said. "Just let me explain—"

"Explain what?" you interrupted, your voice trembling with rage. "Explain how you lied to me? Explain how you used me? There's nothing to explain. Just go."

"I really… I care about you," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

"Care about me?" you laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Don't lie to me again, Clint. Just go."

He looked at you for a moment longer, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and longing. Then, with a sigh, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, shaking with anger and hurt.

Later that night, the walk home felt miles long. You were so tired, so messed up. All you wanted was sleep, oblivion. Just to shut everything off for a while.

Then, headlights. A car pulls up beside you. Guess who? Clint. He rolls down the window, calling your name.

You flip him off without a second thought. "Fuck off," you mutter.

He gets out of the car, looking… what? Guilty? Desperate? Hard to tell in the dark.

He grabs your arms, pulling you close. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice low. "I really do care about you. I can't stop thinking about you… about that night…"

You slap him again, a sharp, stinging slap. "Just… stop," you say, your voice shaky.

He doesn't even react to the slap. He just kisses you, hard and fast, like he can't get enough.

"I want you," he whispers against your lips. "I can't get enough of you, babygirl."

He pulls back a little. "Come on, baby… let's go for a ride."

You hesitate. He whispers, "You're mine, babygirl…"

He opens the car door. "Please," he says, his voice softer now. "Just…let me talk to you.."

And even though you know it's a terrible idea, even though you're still furious with him, you get in.

"What do you want, Clint? Tell me and make it quick," you say, your voice tight. "Before someone sees us."

He's silent for a moment, then starts the car, pulling away from the curb. He finds a secluded spot down a dirt road, deep in the woods. He shuts off the engine, the silence broken only by the chirping of crickets.

He turns to you, his face in shadow.

He takes your chin, gently tilting your face up to his. He notices the tears you’d been trying to hide. He wipes them away with his thumb.

"Why, Clint?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper. "Why did you do this to me?"

He kisses you, a soft, apologetic kiss at first, then deepening, his hands cupping your face. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

"From the moment I saw you… I wanted you, babygirl. I wasn't thinking about anything else." He starts to make excuses.

"I just… I want you," he says, his voice laced with desperation.

"What about your wife, Clint?" you ask, cutting him off.

He hesitates. "Please understand I want you..I want to do this…I wanna be with you …Please...I really do. But… I can't leave her now." He promises he’ll be with you, eventually. He whispers that he loves you.

"This isn't love, Clint," you say, your voice hard. "You just like to fuck young girls, old man."

His face hardens, a flicker of anger in his eyes. "You're right," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "And you're mine, babygirl. Mine to use."

He grabs you, lifting you onto his lap, his grip tight. He kisses you roughly, possessively. You try to pull away, but his hold tightens, his kisses becoming more insistent, more demanding. You give in, finally, succumbing to the heat between you.

He pulls up your dress, ripping your panties in the process.

"Goddamn, babygirl," he breathes, his voice thick with lust. "You're perfect. Absolutely perfect."

He quickly unbuckles his belt, his cock springing free, huge and throbbing, glistening with pre-cum. He kisses your breasts, licking your nipples, teasing you until you moan, your hands tangling in his hair.

He pulls the seat back, reclining it almost flat. You straddle him, facing him, your hips resting against his.

Then, in one swift movement, he guides his cock inside you, stretching you, filling you completely. "Fuck," you breathe, arching your back. "Yes… Daddy…"

You start to ride him, bouncing hard on his cock, your movements fueled by a mixture of anger and desire. He holds you tight, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your rhythm. He kisses your neck, biting gently, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

You grip his hair, kissing him back just as roughly. "I fucking hate you, Daddy," you whisper, the words laced with both anger and desire.

"And I love you, babygirl," he replies, his voice thick with lust.

He kisses you, cupping your face in his hands. "Come on, sweetie," he murmurs, his eyes burning into yours. "Cum for me, baby. Show me how much you want it."

He starts to thrust harder, faster, his cock pounding against your G-spot. "Yeah, that's it," he groans. "Scream for me, babygirl. Tell me how much you need me."

He whispers filthy things in your ear, things that make you blush and tremble.

"You're so fucking wet for your Daddy" he pants. "I can't get enough of you. I'm gonna fill you up with my cum, make you drip with me."

He reaches between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, teasing it, driving you closer to the edge. "Come on, baby," he whispers. "Let it go. Show Daddy how much you love it."

"Oh, fuck, yes," you moan, arching your back. "Harder, Daddy, harder. I'm gonna cum."

He speeds up, his thrusts becoming relentless, each one pushing him deeper inside you.

"That's it, babygirl," he grunts. "So fucking good. You're going to be a mess for your Daddy."

He reaches down and grips your ass cheeks, pulling you closer, grinding his cock against your clit. "Tell me you love it, baby," he demands. "Tell me you're mine. Tell me you belong to Daddy. Say it."

"I love it, Daddy," you gasp, your body trembling, on the verge of climax. "I'm yours. Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me harder. I'm so close…"

He groans, his own release close behind. "Fuck, babygirl," he pants. "I'm gonna cum." He thrusts one last time, deep and hard, and then he explodes inside you, his hot seed gushing into your womb.

You cry out, your body convulsing as you come again, a loud, shuddering orgasm that echoes through the car. His cock pulses inside you, hot and thick, spilling his cum deep within you. You feel it surge through you, a warm, overwhelming sensation. He collapses against you, his breath ragged. "Fuck," he whispers. "You're so fucking good. Mine. So full of me."

"You'll miss this pussy when I'm gone Daddy." you murmured to him.

You pull back, the shared intimacy shattered. You slide over to the passenger seat, the leather cool against your heated skin. He stuffs his cock back into his pants, the silence in the car thick with unspoken words. You dress quickly, the lingering scent of him a phantom presence on your skin.

He lights a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating his face. He offers it to you, and you take a drag, the smoke a harsh comfort in your throat.

He leans over, kissing you one last time, a lingering, almost desperate kiss. "Don't hate me, babygirl," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. "I love you. I'll always come back to you."

"No," you say, your voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil inside. "This is the last time, Clint. Take me home."

He nods, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He starts the car, and the drive back is fraught with tension, the silence heavy with the weight of what just transpired. As he pulls up a block from your house, he reaches for you, a silent plea for one final touch.

"No," you say, pulling away from his grasp. "Clint, please. Don't. Don't come around again. I'm weak for you..I know I'll give up every time you kiss me... Don't do this to me."

You get out of the car, resisting the urge to look back. You can feel his gaze on your retreating figure, a mixture of sadness and something else, something darker, lingering in the air.

You don't turn around. You know if you do, you'll succumb to his pull once more, and that is a dangerous game you can no longer afford to play.

💔

Weeks passed, each one a slow ache. You'd see Clint around town, he'd try to catch your eye, to speak to you, but you always looked away, a wall of hurt and confusion between you.

Then, one night, walking home, you saw him. He was on a deserted street near the old hotel, his face a mess of blood and bruises.

And he was holding a baby. A tiny, bundled-up baby. In his other hand, he clutched a small saw. Fear and adrenaline surged through you. You ran towards him.

"Clint! What happened?" you asked, your voice trembling. You looked at the baby. A boy. His son. Then you looked back at Clint, your heart pounding in your chest.

"They… some bastards," he stammered, his voice hoarse. "They wanted me to do something for them. A job. I didn't want to. They… they took my son from the hospital."

"His… his mother?" you asked, dread creeping into your voice.

"She… she died during labor," he said, his voice cracking.

"I'm so sorry, Clint," you whispered, reaching out to touch his arm.

"I have to get out of here," he said, his eyes wild. "I have to get him safe. Just until morning, then I'll figure things out."

"Come to my house," you said, surprising yourself. "You can clean up there."

"Your dad…" he hesitated.

"He's on night shift," you said quickly.

You took the baby from his arms, cradling him close. He was so small, so fragile. You led Clint to your car, and drove to your house in silence.

He showered, and you gave him some of your dad's old clothes. He looked exhausted, but relieved. You fed his son, who was ravenous.

"Thank you," Clint said, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for everything." He paused, then moved closer to you, his eyes searching yours.

He kissed you softly, tentatively. "I… I still love you, babygirl," he whispered. "I need you to come with me...I can't live without you.."

You looked at him, then at his son, sleeping peacefully in his arms. You knew he couldn't do this alone. And despite everything, a part of you still cared for him.

"Okay," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll go with you." "I'll pack my things."

He nodded, a flicker of hope in his eyes. He held his son close as you went to gather your belongings.

As you were trying to leave the house, the front door opened. Your dad, Robert, stood there, his face a mask of fury.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, his eyes fixed on Clint.

"What are you doing in my house with my daughter? And… whose baby is that?"

"That's my son," Clint answered, his voice steady despite the tension.

"Dad, I love Clint," you said, the words tumbling out. "I'm going with him."

"You're leaving with him?" Robert roared, his voice shaking with anger.

Clint stepped forward, his expression surprisingly calm. "Robert, I'm sorry but I need your daughter," he said, his voice steady. "I love her. I promise I'll protect her. I won't let anything happen to her."

Robert was silent for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, then Clint's. Finally, he looked at Clint, his voice low and dangerous. "She's my everything," he said, his gaze unwavering. "Hurt her, and I will find you. And I will kill you."

You took Clint's hand, and together, you walked out the door, leaving your father standing there, his face a mask of pain and anger.

❣️

Hours later, you found yourselves in a small hotel room in a neighboring country. The baby, exhausted from the journey, was finally asleep. You looked at him, his tiny features so like Clint’s. "He's beautiful," you whispered. "He looks just like you."

Clint pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "I missed you," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. He kissed you, a deep, hungry kiss that spoke of longing and desperation, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before plunging inside.

"God, I've been craving you," he whispered against your mouth. "I haven't been able to think about anything else. You're like a drug to me, babygirl. A sweet, delicious poison."

His hands moved quickly, deftly, removing your clothes, his eyes never leaving yours, burning with lust. "You're so fucking beautiful," he breathed, his gaze raking over your naked body. "Every curve, every inch of you… it drives me wild."

He kissed you all over your body, lingering on your breasts, his tongue teasing their sensitive tips, making them hard and aching. "Mmm, you taste so good," he groaned. "Like honey and sin." He gently laid you on the bed, his gaze burning into you.

He knelt between your legs, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine. He kissed your clit, slowly, teasingly, licking it until you moaned, your hips lifting off the mattress, begging for more. "Oh, Daddy," you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair. "Fuck me, Daddy. Make me scream."

He then stripped off his own clothes, his body lean and hard, a roadmap of muscle and sinew. He knelt above you, his cock throbbing, glistening with anticipation, pulsing with need.

He teased you with the tip, brushing it against your swollen pussy, making you gasp with need, a wet heat blossoming between your legs.

"Ready for me, babygirl?" he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Ready for Daddy's cock?

You were so wet, dripping with desire. He slid in with a hard, deep thrust, filling you completely. "Fuck," you breathed, arching your back. "Yes… Daddy… Fill me up."

He moved slowly at first, his full weight pressing you into the mattress, making you feel small and vulnerable, yet utterly consumed by him.

"God, you're so tight," he groaned, his breath hot against your ear. "So fucking good. You're going to beg me to stop, but I won't."

He moved faster, his thrusts becoming more insistent, more demanding. You clung to his back, your nails digging into his skin as your pussy clenched around him, milking his cock with every push. "Fuck, yes," you moaned, your hips rising to meet his. "Harder, Daddy, harder. I need you. I need your cum."

He came inside you with a guttural cry, his cock pulsing deep within you, his hot seed flooding your womb. "Fuck, babygirl," he gasped, his voice thick with pleasure. "You're mine. All mine. You belong to me. You're my little slut."

He stayed like that for a while, his body still trembling, kissing you deeply, savoring the moment, his lips lingering on yours. "You're so fucking good," he whispered against your lips. "The best pussy I've ever had."

He pulled out slowly, his eyes watching as your juices, mixed with his cum, dripped from your pussy, staining the sheets. "Damn, baby," he whispered, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "You're a beautiful, dripping mess. Just how Daddy likes it. Gonna mark you, babygirl. Gonna leave my mark all over you."

He leaned down and kissed you softly, his lips lingering on yours. "I love you," he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness you hadn't seen before, a promise of something more, something darker. "You're mine now, babygirl. And I'm never letting you go."

You whispered "I love you too Daddy."

That night, for the first time, you fell asleep in the same bed, wrapped in each other's arms. He was gentle, so different from the rough, demanding lover he could be. He was caring, tender. He whispered that he loved you, he thanked you for understanding, for staying with him, for not leaving him when he needed you most.

"I hope so," you replied, your voice soft but firm. "I hope you never leave me, Clint. Or… or cheat on me. Because if you do, I'm gonna call my dad, and he's gonna kill you. I mean it."

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through you. "I promise, babygirl," he said, pulling you closer. "I'd never do that to you. From now on, I only have eyes for you. And my heart… it's all yours.

💓

Two years have passed, and life settled into a new rhythm. The fear and uncertainty gradually faded, replaced by a fragile sense of normalcy. Then, one morning, you woke up feeling… different. Nauseous. Tired. And then, the test confirmed it. You were pregnant. You went to doctor, it was a boy. Clint was so happy when he find out.

The sun streamed through the window, painting the small house in a warm, golden light. It was a picture of domestic bliss. Jason, your older son, was sprawled on the floor, engrossed in building a magnificent tower of colorful blocks. In your arms, Mateo, your newborn, nursed contentedly, his tiny hand clutching your finger. He was fast asleep, his little chest rising and falling gently.

The front door opened, and Clint walked in, a broad smile lighting up his face. He’d found a steady job as a contractor, and the stability had done wonders for him.

He was different now – calmer, more focused, a real partner. He’d been so incredibly supportive during the pregnancy, taking care of you and Jason, making sure you had everything you needed.

"I'm home!" he called out, his voice filled with warmth. He came over to you, bending down to kiss you softly. "Hey, beautiful," he murmured, his eyes full of love. He then kissed Mateo on the forehead, his touch feather-light. "Missed you guys so much."

He ruffled Jason’s hair playfully. "What are you building there, buddy? A castle?"

Jason grinned, showing off a missing tooth. "Yeah! It's gonna be the biggest castle ever!"

Clint spent a few minutes playing with Jason, laughing as the tower of blocks inevitably tumbled down. He then came back to you, sitting beside you on the sofa.

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "How are my boys doing?" he asked, his gaze tender as he looked at Mateo, still sleeping peacefully in your arms.

"They're good," you said, leaning into his embrace. "Mateo's been a little fussy today, but he's finally settled down."

"He's growing so fast," Clint said, his voice filled with awe.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. It was your dad, Robert. He still wasn’t completely comfortable with Clint, but he’d come around, especially since Mateo was born. He wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy with Clint, but he was undeniably happy to have two grandsons.

Robert spent the afternoon playing with Jason, showering him with attention. He even managed a small, almost grudging, smile in Clint's direction.

As the sun began to set, and the boys were both playing quietly in their room, Clint came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

He kissed you softly on the neck. "I'm so happy, darling," he whispered, his voice full of emotion. "I have everything I’ve ever wanted. You, the boys…this."

He turned you to face him, his eyes shining with love. "I'm gonna make so many babies with you, darling," he said, a playful glint in his eyes. "We're going to have a whole football team!"

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Oh, really?" you teased. "We'll see about that."

He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours. "I love you," he murmured, his voice filled with tenderness. "More than anything in the world."

"I love you too, Clint," you whispered back, your heart overflowing with happiness. You finally had your happily ever after.

Thank you for the reading 💜

Please like, reblog and comment. ❣️

Send me your request and reviews I appreciate that.

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#pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal clint #clint (freaky tales) x reader #clint (freaky tales)#clint x reader #pedro pascal smut #clint freaky tales smut #SoundCloud

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eadanga · 1 month ago

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Wow two hotties fighting over me 😍😍😍

#choices #pixelberry #face-off: a hot shot story

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mildlyromanticperv · 8 months ago

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Who would've thought...?

Haerin x MReader Fluff One-Shot

-Honey, are you ready? -You poke Haerin's cheek with a smirk, resting your head above hers trying to wake your wife up.

-Mhmmm stop it... -Her pout reminds you of the face she put up when you proposed, or more accurately, when she found out you wanted to propose and just yelled yes without you knowing what happened.

13 months prior...

-No, no, no! Don't shoot him! -Your joyfully yelling covers the entirety of your room as you and your girlfriend are focused with sheer devotion to their GTA V game. -Babe! He's a good guy!

-He looks insane! Is half naked what do you mean?

-She yells with equal joy screwing up the mission you two are playing, however despite the screw up you two just end in a sea of laughter and hitting the couch you bought together, times could not be better.

Kang Haerin, your girlfriend from 2 years now moved in with you just a mere 6 months prior, despite being something so recent you two share far more stories together than one could imagine and no one could say otherwise.

As the rising laughter falls into heavy breathing from you two recovering from the intense experience the game just provided.

-Oh man! You're so stupid sometimes babe!

-Oh shut up, you're the one wanting to save some maniacs life!

-Well, saving maniacs's lives made me famished, do you want some pizza tonight? -You rest your head in your fist as you lean into the couch and look for her eyes, her gorgeous piercing eyes followed by her expressive smile fills your heart with joy.

-You know I do, handsome, just don't put olives in it. -She draws out her tongue to playfully tease you.

-Are you sure you have taste buds? -You say jokingly surprised by her choice of no olives.

-More than you apparently. -Haerin crosses her arms playfully but without being able to contain her smile she bursts out laughing either way. -But seriously, don't order olives for me. -She starts to turn off the gaming console and opens Netflix on the tv, ready for that movie night you promised as your... Billionth date?

-Whatever, you're lucky I love you otherwise I'd order a pizza with only cheese and olives. -You reply playfully and then sit down next to her as well with two full cups of hot cocoa.

-Awww you make my heart flutter. -She answers sarcastically at your comment.

Even though you've been together for 2 years, with every little gesture of hers you just fall deeper and deeper in love with her, the light of your eyes... The same light she has when she looks at you.

"This is perfect, I'm going to marry that girl." Is the thought that crosses your mind every single time her smile warms your heart, but you keep postponing it because... Why was it? Why are you waiting so much?

Why don't you just say it?

That's right.

Everything's perfect, why change it? Why do you need to call her other than your girlfriend if she's just perfect just the way she is?

-Honey? Are you okay? -Her sweet voice snaps you back into reality as she is now leaning on your shoulder and her left hand is pressed against your chest gently... Her gaze intensely looks for your eyes to try and read your emotions through them.

-I couldn't be better, sweetie. -Your sincere smile tells more than a thousand words, just a mere curl of your lips when your eyes meet hers is a constant confession of the devotion you have for her.

Not so long after the movie starts, you two hold in each other's embrace trying to protect each other from the frightening jump scares of the unreasonable choice of scary movies you chose for tonight.

With the extreme focus you two have even the ringing of your bell scares the shit out of you two.

-For Christ sake! -Even for a couple, shouting the same thing at the same time must be impressive.

The ringing on the bell sends confusion in both of your heads until Haerin realizes the facts.

-It's the pizza, idiot. -She says harshly as she flicks a finger on your forehead.

You rolled your eyes at her and mouth to her "shut up".

After a while you return with a big-ass pepperoni and cheese pizza with such a smell that only by opening it both of your stomachs start to growl uncontrollably.

-Here babe, you can start I'm going to get us something to drink... -You left the box on the coffee table of your living room. -You want soda or beer?

-Beer, babe, tomorrow Haerin's going to rest. -She says playfully feeling all warm and fuzzy as you get closer with the two beers on your hand.

One could say that two eaters sharing a pizza would become a non stop ending fight to see who is going to take the last slice, however these two lovebirds have their own system: slicing the last slice in half, everything has to be balanced, even when it comes to the food.

Finally after some time later you two finish your dinner and continue watching the movie, movie that is becoming so freaking boring that you can't resist but lean your head in Haerin's shoulder and fall asleep slowly, snoring and taking her scent slowly.

*Bzzz* *Bzzz* *Bzzz*

Your phone.

A notification?

A message.

Haerin's unwavering curiosity gets the best of her as she starts to fondle your pants looking for your phone, once she gets it she turns on the screen she's greeted by a picture of her smile and cat ears as your background pic, however what gets into her heart more is the fact that you never used any kind of lock, not security pin or password... Nothing, a complete show of trust that left her speechless for a while and drove her to kiss your sleeping cheeks.

Without any more seconds to waste she opens your messaging app to find the name of one of her sisters... Hanni?

Why is Hanni texting him this late at night?

Billions of thoughts flood her mind, sending a storm of doubt, jealousy, possessiveness. Why on earth would her best friend and sister text her boyfriend on a Friday night?

*Ding*

"You moron, you don't leave the ring in your underwear drawer, she would find it, you need to have it with you at all times and then ask her out when you two go out on a date." Is the last message that comes in while Haerin holds your phone.

-Why would you do that to me, Hanni? -Is the only thing she can think of, her sister, her belove... A ring? What does she mean?

A ring in his underwear drawer?

Haerin's cat-like stealth comes in very handy from time to time to scare her boyfriend and giggle right after, and it came extremely handy to drop his phone on his chest and go running to your shared bedroom and looking frantically for your underwear drawer.

Inside a small blue velvet box is placed perfectly between your socks and a pair of red boxers she gifted you barely a week before, upon picking it up she trembles in expectation.

"Can this be...?"

"Is this real..?"

"Does he really want to marry me?"

The question sends shivers down her spine as she opens the box to find just a piece of paper inside, disappointed and with the heart in her hand she throws the box and reads the message.

"Turn around, you minx."

She immediately turns around, surprised by the usage of the nickname her boyfriend only uses whenever she disappears and appears out of thin air.

Right behind her, her boyfriend, you, are kneeling on one knee, with tears of joy rolling down your cheeks and a silver ring with a small ruby gemstone on top, your breathing is heavy, irregular, but your eyes and your smile are calm, confident...

Hopeful.

-My plan went well. -Is what you say once her eyes meet yours, your breath allows you to just breath enough not to crumble, after a few seconds of eternity you finally speak. -Kang Haerin, I have thought about how to say this several times, to be honest for a few weeks now. Who would've thought that I would end up meeting the love of my life in my first year in Korea? but I guess life just doesn't go as we planned.

Your eyes are exploring every feature of your girlfriend as you speak, recording every single detail forever.

-For weeks I've had the certainty that my life belongs by your side, that my future is you, starting a family with you and loving only you, so Kang Haerin, forgive this sudden proposal and please tell me...

Will you marry me?

At the sight of your lips moving to say those 4 perfect words Haerin can't help but crumble in tears, jumping forward to meet your arms not giving a second thought I'd maybe the ring would get lost.

-YES! YES! OF COURSE I WILL.

Her yells of excitement fill the room and for a second leaves you deaf on one ear, but it's worth it. Completely worth it.

Your arms wrapped around her as you caress her hair and her back, the aftermath of the proposal is translated into her shivers being held by your embrace, her tender gaze meets yours and you start to clean up the tears rolling down her chin

-I really love you, baby. -She says once she calms down a bit. -And I would never choose anything else but being with you, forever.

-I love you too, my dear fiancee.

#kpopidol #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #NewJeans x male reader #Haerin #Haerin fic

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wifeofwandamaximoff · 1 year ago

Text

The Student and Professor

Pairings: Professor!Nat x Student!Reader

Warnings: fluff

Summary: The love story of a professor and student.

Author's note: The reader is in college so they will be 18+ and so will be Nat. Thank you so much @natashaswife4125 for the request and I enjoyed writing this and I hope you do too!

"Y/n?" Wanda said while waving her hand in front of my face. I then get out of my daze seeing students start coming in lecture room.

I sigh while looking at my English professor. Staring at her from the farthest part of the room. My best friend sitting right next to me still waving her hand in my face to get my attention.

"She's so pretty." I said, getting lost in my head. Making a bunch of different scenarios in my head about me and my English professor.

Wanda then hit me on the side of my head hard, making me fall back in my chair making a loud noise. Which caused Professor Romanoff to look in our direction with a raised eyebrow.

I then quickly got up and shot daggers at Wanda.

"Hey you were in your own world, that was the only way to get you out!" Wanda said trying to defend herself. I just said nothing but stare at her. I then roll my eyes and turned forward, seeing Professor Romanoff eyeing us with a raised eyebrow.

The bell the rung, signaling that the lesson was about to begin. Professor Romanoff started teaching her lecture.

As a fourth year student at NYU taking a Law degree. I was given a choice between English Literature or Administrative Law. I didn't want to take Administrative law again so I chose English Literature. Which was the best decision of my life because now I have a hot professor until the end of the semester.

Wanda then rolled her eyes when she saw my looking at the professor. She hit me in the back of the head while saying;

"Stop eye fucking our professor and focus on ur work." She whisper shouted.

I jolted at her slap on my head. Turning my head towards her with daggers in my eyes.

"Fine, but stop fucking hitting me!" I whisper shouted. Wanda said nothing but started taking notes on what Professor Romanoff was saying.

Once the lesson was I was still taking last minute notes, Wanda had already left to rush to her next lesson. The students started leaving and soon enough I was the only student left in the lecture room.

Trying to make the notes look perfect, I erased some words to make it look better. I then felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and saw Professor Romanoff standing right behind me.

"Professor?" I said confusingly. I eyed her hand on my shoulder and then back up to her face which had a slight smile.

"Y/n, I was just curious of why u and Wanda were laughing in the beginning of class, I usually see zero happiness in this class since im quite strict." Professor questioned me curiously.

I then started feeling hot, her hand on my shoulder and trying to think up and answer for her question. Anything besides dreaming about us being together.

"I was just telling Wanda about my crush!" I said with a small smile. I mean I didn't technically lie so I should be fine.

Her face fell just a bit, she removed her hand from my shoulder.

"Ah, okay then." She said before walking off, descending the stairs and going to her desk to grade stuff.

I was puzzled at her change of behavior. I decided to just quickly finish my notes and leave the lecture hall. I then gather my things and quickly leave the lecture hall but before I left I felt Professor's Romanoff eyes burning hole in my head.

Hours later I was on campus going into a cafe right next to my dorm. The bell rung signaling that a customer came in. I waited a bit since there was a small line.

I heard the bell ring and I turned around to see Professor Romanoff entering the cafe. It was then my turn to order and I ordered some hot chocolate and paid.

Professor Romanoff order a hot chocolate as well. She then stood right next too me making me start to get nervous.

My hot chocolate was ready so I grabbed it when I felt another warm hand on my own. I turned to look and see Ms. Romanoff also reaching out to grab the hot chocolate. I then froze not knowing what to do.

" My apologies Y/n, I thought it was mine." Apologized Ms. Romanoff. She then took her hand off of mine which saddened me a bit.

"Its alright u can have it, Ill just wait since u probably have somewhere to rush to." I said, offering my hot chocolate.

"Detka, I have nowhere to go. Im in no rush I can wait." Ms. Romanoff explained. When she called me "Dear" , I started to feel butterflies in my stomach.

"No, its alright!" I hastily said. All of a sudden they call out that another hot chocolate was ready. I then quickly grab the hot chocolate. I give her mine of which she confused as hers. Since the one made was quite hot so I gave her the one that cooled down a bit.

"Thank u detka!" Ms. Romanoff said happily. I give her a small smile before leaving the cafe. A huge smile on my face. All of a sudden I felt a hand on my shoulder. A familiar touch.

"Ms.Romanoff?" I questioned once I turned around and saw her.

"Would u like to hangout Y/n? I have nothing to do for the rest of the day." Asked Ms. Romanoff. I felt like I was in a dream. My crush asking me to hangout!??! The best day of my life truly.

"S-sure Ms.Romanoff!" I said a bit too quickly. Ms. Romanoff giggled a bit.

"Call me Nat outside of class detka." Ms. Romanoff told me. Pretty name for pretty lady. I nod at her request. We then start walking out of campus and into a busy street after walking for a while. Talking a bit on the way.

Ive learned some new things about Nat. She has a cat name Liho, a sister name Yelena who loves Mac and cheese with hot sauce. Her favorite colors are black and red and she sucks at cooking.

We then arrived at a shop that sold some clothing.

"Nat, Im gonna go in and look at the clothing if that fine. You can go shop around this area." I told her. She then turned around and raised an eyebrow at me.

"We've come here to hangout Im not abandoning you. Ill come along with you alright detka?" She told me sternly, leaving zero room for argument's.

I just nod my head while entering the clothing store. I was then greeted with a smell of flowers. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a cute top that was white. It would show a lot my cleavage if I wore it and some stomach.

I walked towards it, I felt like it was luring me towards it. Nat was following me, curious of what I was doing. She then saw what I was walking towards.

"Nat look at this cute top!" I squealed in delight of finding such a cute top.

"It is indeed detka, but you can't wear that at school. But I know you would absolutely beautiful in that top." She said with a smile adorning her face. I felt my cheeks start to heat up from the compliment. I then decided this is a must have top so I quickly paid for it and dragged Nat out of the store.

Hours later it was dark. Lights adorning some buildings lighting up parts of the streets. I was holding some ice cream that me and Nat had just bought from a small ice cream vendor.

We were laughing and chatting on the way back to campus. I then looked up at the stars, getting mesmerized by them. I stop walking, staying silent. Nat realizing that I wasn't by her side made her worried for me until she saw me sitting on the grass staring at the stars.

"Its really beautiful tonight isn't it?" She questioned me softly. I just nod at her question.

I then feel her hand under my chin, she then turned my head around to face her's. I then looked at her confused.

She then leaned in and softly kissed me. I was frozen in shock not reregistering the kiss but before I could return it she pulled away.

"I-im sorry! I-i shouldn't have done that!" Nat rushed out quickly. She started to stand up but I grabbed her hand before she could walk away.

I then made her sit down and cup her face with both of my hands making her face squish a little. I then leaned in and kissed her passionately. I then felt her returning the kiss.

We pulled away when air was desperately needed. Our foreheads touching.

"I really like you Y/n..." She whispered to me softly. I pulled away and looked at her with a sparkle in my eyes.

"I like you too Nat, ever since I first saw you..." I said giggling at the end a bit.

"So was I your little crush that Wanda was talking about?" She asked me teasingly. I just nodded, tucking my face in her neck so she wouldn't see me blushing. She slowly pulled my face out of her neck to make me face her directly.

She then kissed me one more time. Marking that start of our love story, and the best chapter of my life.

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