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teddybeartoji · 6 months ago

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彡 NO GARDEN CAN BLOOM WITHOUT THE SUN

☆. contains: bf!satoru gojo x gn!reader; fluff fluff fluff!!!! they're in love!!!!!! satoru is the king of acts of service!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! wc: 1.5k

"c'mon, show me those chompers, baby!"

sat on the bathroom counter, you watch your boyfriend bare his fangs at you in the most adorable way. his eyes are pressed shut, his smile so wide that it's almost reaching his ears – he's showing how you should do it.

unable to contain the sleepy chuckles that bubble up your throat, satoru's eyes crack open. he's sleepy, too. but he's still here; he's still determined to make you happy, to make you feel good, to make you smile. he's determined to take care of you no matter what.

he ushers you with a laugh of his own, showing you the lump of toothpaste sitting on your new toothbrush.

(he bought you matching ones the other day. he's very proud of himself.)

(you love him.)

you can't say no to him. his free hand squeezes your waist, a sign that he's here and he's waiting. he's not being impatient, though – no, never that. he's just reassuring; skin on skin, he wants you to know he's never leaving.

to him it isn't dramatic to be thinking about his everlasting devotion while doing a menial task like this (if you can even call it that) – it's more than normal actually. he simply cannot stop; you're eating him from the inside and he's grateful.

you do as he says and clench your teeth together while pulling your lips back. you're sure you look a little silly but satoru couldn't disagree more.

"there we go! you look like a little tiger!" he leans in and brushes his nose against yours, making it scrunch up and that makes him giggle in turn. he feels giddy around you, he feels like he's in heaven.

he wets the toothbrush before bringing up to your mouth. he takes his hand from your hip and places it on your jaw instead, gently guiding your face up so he can see a little better.

bristles brush against your enamels and you peer at satoru. he looks awfully concentrated – he's cute like this. there's a small crease between his brows, his crystalline eyes glued to your canines as he watches your mouth fill with foam.

blindly, you play with the hem of his shirt; your fingers graze his marble skin and he shudders at the light touch. the fluorescent light coming from behind you illuminates his face and you waste no time in counting the freckles that adorn his skin. again. you've done it a thousand times before and you'll do it a thousand times more. they're your stars – his smile being the sun and his pretty blue eyes the equivalent of the moon in the sky. he's your guide during the day and the night, you'd be utterly lost without him.

he's your world.

satoru wipes the corner of your mouth, collecting some of the extra toothpaste that's threatening to trickle down your skin and smears it into his shirt, laughing loudly when you gasp at his antics. you smack his stomach and watch his head loll back with a dopey grin. his chest rumbles, hearty giggles bubbling up his throat. his adam's apple bobs before he lowers his head back down, his gaze meeting yours. he's so full of love, he just might burst.

"was gonna wash it anyway."

he looks proud of himself and you snort at his answer.

"yersuchachild."

the toothpaste in your mouth is making it hard to sound serious, your words coming out all muddled and slurred as you splutter at him. he doesn't care for your lecturing – his mind is filled with hearts and sparkles and rainbows and kittens and puppies and pastries and warm blankets and glitter and roses and the color pink and the color red and your eyes and everything else that could possibly be associated with the word love. he watches your mouth move and he sees flower petals falling, he watches you blink and he sees shooting stars, he watches you breathe and he feels at home.

he's your air.

you're a perfect match – you breathe him in and he makes a home inside your lungs. you keep him safe, you cradle him with your gentle hands and hide him from the cruel world. and he in turn takes care of your heart; he warms it, he tends to it like it's a garden. he waters and he weeds, he plants new seeds and he reaps what he has sowed with the softest smile in the world.

no garden can bloom without the sun.

satoru places the toothbrush in your mouth before yanking the dirty t-shirt off of his body. he raises his brows, seeking for praise. "better?"

you nod sleepily and the brush between your teeth bounces up and down, making satoru laugh again. you give him a smile and his breath hitches just a little. all foamy and pretty – he loves you so fucking much.

he goes back to his job, carefully brushing over your front teeth and then the sides. he gives your cheeks a squeeze, telling you to open up again and then he's leaning in so close that you almost choke on the paste in your mouth. a smirk tugs on his lips as he squints his eyes, glaring at your teeth like he's a proper dentist.

your fingers itch for him and you refuse to suffer when he's right there; you trace over the scars that cover his tummy, his whole body, and you hum. finally, you decide to just rest your hands on the waistband of his pyjamas – you need to be touching him, always and forever.

but the sleepiness is starting to take over; your eyes feel heavy and satoru doesn't miss your slow blinks. he speeds up his movements, whispering for you to show him your tongue. he quickly cleans it, intent on giving you his hundred percent.

when he deems that he's finally done, he takes the brush from your mouth and leans back, taking a good look at the masterpiece before him; half-asleep, mouth covered in toothpaste & content. he couldn't wish for anything else.

without giving you time to react, he lunges forward, pressing his plump lips against yours. he holds your cheeks like you're made out of glass and you grasp at his skin like he's about to fade away—

— but you won't break and he won't disappear.

seperating from him, you're met with the most bashful fucking smile in the world. his hands rest on his hips and he really couldn't be more proud of himself. frothy lips and sparkling eyes, you simply stare at him and just let the butterflies fill your stomach. there's no stopping them anyway.

"okay, c'mon, sleepyhead." satoru taps your thighs. "wash your mouth."

he comes up close again, his nose touching yours. "or do you want me to do that for you, too?"

he's a little cocky and he's a little smug and you think it's only fair; he has every right to be – you're wrapped around his finger like honey around a dipper. but alas, you plop off the counter and press yourself flush against him before turning around and facing the sink. he doesn't move, staying glued behind you like it's where he's meant to be.

(it is.)

his arms snake around your middle, patiently waiting for you to finish cleaning up. satoru sways his hips, gently, as if trying to lull you to sleep. he stares at you through the mirror, unable to tear his eyes from you. his own shirt drapes over your figure, soft skin peeking from under the collar, just waiting for him to press his lips against it. you feel like putty in his hold, like his own personal plushie and he has never been this excited to go to bed. he can't wait to sleep with you – to curl around you, to hug and kiss, to feel your heartbeat under his heavy head.

(every morning he wakes up already dreaming about spending the night with you again. you rest together, you heal together.)

you raise your head from the sink and satoru is already handing you a towel. you thank him with your eyes and dry yourself off. he rests his head on your shoulder and your fingers crawl between his messy white strands, you rub at his scalp and he closes his eyes. a purr reverberates through his body and then through yours and another smile makes it's way onto your face. it's inevitable; he just makes you so fucking happy.

hearts beating together, you stand there in your bathroom. it feels special, it is special – he always makes you feel like this, no matter where, no matter when; like a lock and a key, like a blanket and a pillow, like a piece of paper and a pen, like rain and thunder, like the ocean and the beach—

— like a ray of sunlight and a blooming flower.

+ hii my beloved satoru lovers just felt like tagging you guys bc... i felt like it<333 @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @staryukis @mossmurdock @neptuneblue @lxnarphase @nkogneatho @cockaiine @kentophilia @sugulani @13curses @blankwashed i love you

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ruruumin · 4 days ago

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happy birthday, mi amor.

₊˚ ᗢ itoshi sae x gn! reader.

⤷ special happy birthday gift to my beloved moot @kaiser1ns!

“what happened in here?” you ask, seeing your boyfriend at the center of what seemed to be a glitter explosion.

your living room was decorated head to toe with birthday decorations. from banners with your name on it to streamers being thrown across every piece of furniture, everything was placed meticulously. there were even balloons filling the empty corners of the house with your favorite colors. alongside a multitude of giftbags on the table, there was a white cake box, a sweet treat you can only assume came from your favorite bakery.

still in his sports jacket, sae is covered in confetti with a cheesy ‘happy birthday�� cone hat. in his hands was a small confetti popper. based on his appearance and the somewhat irked expression on his face, you assume he played with the string so much that it exploded on him early.

“surprise happy birthday,” he replies plainly, as if you had forgotten about your own birthday. he’s still holding onto the popper despite nothing being inside. he was trying to make up for the lack of pizazz with a smile as soft as tofu.

you reach out to hold his bicep, feeling a little embarrassed with your appearance. you had come back from a long day of work and classes, and you just finished a nice dinner with your friends. ending the day off with sae was the best thing you could have ever asked for, if it wasn’t for the messy look on your face and your hair being in all sorts of different shapes.

sae wasn’t the loud, affectionate person but he made up for it with moments like these. reaching over to hold onto your cheek, he brings you close to him, looking down at you with the same look in his eyes that you see every morning. tender and sweet, you’d say.

“you didn’t have to do all of this y’know.” you smile, “you’re still in your uniform. did you rush over to my place after practice?”

“it’s your birthday.” translation: yes.

your chest bubbles up with happiness as he kisses the top of your head, nudging you over towards the table. he gives you your own happy birthday hat, kissing you again on your temple as he opens up the white cake box. it was your favorite flavor, the one that he learned immediately and kept in the back of his head after your first date.

lighting up the candles, he slowly claps for you, singing what might have been the worst rendition of happy birthday you've ever heard. but nonetheless, the moment couldn't be anymore perfect.

“happy birthday, mi amor,” he mutters, watching as you blow out your candles. his chest feels the same enveloping warmth he has come to associate with you. he mentally captures this scene like a polaroid, keeping it close to him like a heart locket he’ll look back on again in the future.

he hopes that whatever wish you made for the year will include him and more tender moments like this.

#₊˚ ᗢ ruruumin #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae x reader

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celestialprincesse · 9 months ago

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🎀🍼

What time is it?! More single mom!reader time!

Someone dropped into my inbox asking for Single mom! getting upset at her daughter and yelling at her and then crying about it. I needed a minute to cook but I'm here now.

"Come on, Lottie." You huff desperately, covered to your elbows in suds and applesauce as you try and fail to get your daughter into the bubble filled tub. "If you take a bath, I'll let you watch Bluey before bed." Has the three year old perking up, albeit barely, still stroppy about some trivial thing or another. She's probably still sour about you saying no to having cake for dinner, despite the fact that you'd relented this morning and allowed cake for breakfast, on the condition that she also had some strawberries to 'cancel the sugar out'.

"I wan' see Riley!" She pouts, stomping a tiny, chubby foot against the tiled bathroom floor. Ever since you'd dog sat for Simon on his latest deployment, Charlotte had decided that Riley was more her dog than his, and despite the fact that you too, absolutely adore Riley, the thought of bothering Simon any more makes you physically wince. "We can see Riley tomorrow." You attempt to bargain, growing more frustrated the longer you sit on the edge of the bath with your daughter looking at you like you're unreasonable. You never thought you'd see the day where you could get genuinely upset at a three year old covered in apple sauce and glitter glue. You've already had to fish a clip on earring from her mess of hair, and now you're at the end of your very, very long, single mother special edition, extra strength rope. "Wan' see him now!" Has you practically on the verge of tears. Today has been one of those impossible days where all you can think of as you're working out how much you have to spend for the month and whether you need to call a plumber out for the kitchen sink, is whether it's all worth it. Sure, going back and grovelling would be shameful, gut wrenchingly so, but at least then you wouldn't be alone.

"Charlotte, get in the bath or I'll put you to bed with no TV time." The unrelenting growl of your own voice feels foreign as it echoes around the tiny bathroom. You hate playing the bad cop, that was never your role, you'd always been the one to pick Lottie up after her dad laid down the law, take her for ice cream in the park or to feed the ducks. Now you're forced to do both. Charlotte, being three and having no care for the fact that she's making your life more difficult than it needs to be, simply sticks out her bottom lip and quivers her chin a little. Which, under normal circumstances, would make you give in and try to chase her down with a wet wipe, or coax her with the mermaid barbie doll that 'lives' in the bath. "Charlotte. Bath. Now." Of course, she'd had to have your spirited nature and unwillingness to give in passed on to her like a flaming torch, like you were Prometheus, being punished for giving fire to man. "No!" She shrieks, and that's enough to tip you over the edge. "Fine, bed then! Go on! Go and get in bed all dirty and see if I care." You snap, fingers pinching frustratedly at the bridge of your nose, trying to hold back the angry tears threatening to spill.

You're too consumed by hurt and endlessly roiling frustration to see where she storms off to, allowing yourself just a moment to sit on the edge of your shitty bathtub and let it all out. It was hardly ever that you got angry at Lottie. It was practically impossible given your situation. She doesn't understand where her daddy is or why you needed to go without him, nor why she can't always go and play with Simon and Riley whenever she wants.

"Charlotte?" Simon is confused and more than a little concerned at the snotty three year old currently stood at his door, cheeks ruddy with tears and little fists balled as she walks past him into his flat. "Wan' play wif Riley." She babbles, toddling through his entrance hall to the living rim, where the K9 gladly greets her with licks to her cheeks, making her giggle. "Where's mummy, Lottie?" Riley is called to heel, told to calm down so that Simon can understand why he's currently got your three year old crying in his lounge. "Baffroom." The toddler mumbles, seemingly perfectly content to get comfortable on his couch with Riley, burying her little face in the fluffy golden scruff of his neck. "What do you mean, bathroom, poppet? Is mummy alright?" "Mummy cryin'." "Did something happen?" In her usual way, Charlotte completely zones out from his line of questioning, too engaged with snuggling his dog.

The toddler wails and kicks when she's hoisted up onto his hip and carried back through the concerningly open door of your apartment, still swinging slightly on its hinges from where Lottie had thrown it open. "Love?" Simon calls into the seemingly empty house, your daughter on his hip and Riley waiting at his feet, wet nose twitching for any smell of the familiar woman who feeds him treats and scratches behind his ears. In seconds, Riley is tearing into the dimly lit bathroom, jolting you from your meltdown, followed rapidly by Simon and a tired looking toddler. "Love? Darling, what happened?" He's crouching at your bare feet as you sit defeatedly on the rim of the tub, your chin in his hands, tilted this way and that as though to make sure you're not hurt.

"Charlotte wouldn't get in the bath and - and" You can barely get your words out before you're wailing into your hands again, hiccuping pathetically at your situation and the fact that such a simple thing has the strength to derail you entirely. "Ah. Wondered why she came round mine all huffy and puffy." "Oh my God, I'm so sorry - You must think I'm awful." "I don' think you're awful. I think you're fuc-fudging amazing. Look at you, are you jokin'? Raisin a kid all alone, startin' a new life just the two of you. You're a trooper, yeah? I've seen soldiers weaker than you." "You don't really think that." You sniffle, inadvertently leaning your cheek into his palm when he reaches up to wipe your tears. "Course I do. You're brave and kind and beautiful. You've done a hell of a job with the little spitfire over there. Don't think I've ever come across a woman I admire the way I do you."

The way his words, aloof, distant Simon Riley's words make butterflies flutter in your stomach should be illegal. The way his eyes are so warm and dark like the comfort of a warm bed after a long day makes your heart pound and your breath catch. You know you shouldn't feel like this, for Charlotte's sake, and his, and yours, and yet you can't stop yourself. For the first time, you're falling, hard. Not for danger or the lure of the unknown. No. You're falling for the safe, gentle domesticity that Simon offers you in the waiting palm of his hand, like feeding a frightened animal in the hopes of coaxing them into the safe warmth of a home.

｡ﾟ ꒰ঌ ✦໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ

I didn't mean for this to be 1.2k oops I got totally carried away 😚

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vampiricgf · 2 months ago

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Musings of a Fool in Love

leon kennedy x reader

wc: 1k+

warnings: none, sfw, just a sweet moment of both seriously and not seriously discussing marriage, thinking about what it means to exist in perpetuity with another person

I wanted to do something sweet especially after all the angst ive been inflicting on everyone <3 so here's a lil thing inspired by the old love songs I was listening to this morning. (i also didn't have a specific iteration of him in mind for this so it can be interpreted with whichever one you want) if there's mistakes I simply pretend i do not see lol

Soft chords of music fill the apartment, the last dregs of daylight washing you both in hues of honey gold and peach tinged pink, catching in his softly focused blue eyes like those novelty crystals that sit on their tiny, LED powered pedestals refracting the manmade light an infinite number of times.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, the hand lightly holding yours giving a gentle squeeze while the other remains restfully perched on your hip as you bodies move slowly with the melody.

You don’t speak immediately, relishing in how he looks at this moment and contemplating dodging the question. It’s silly, nonsensical but just serious enough that it could shatter this dreamlike moment, leaving it as insubstantial as the last twinges of a dream that cling to the mind like a mist. But you decide against subterfuge, willing to risk cracking the tranquility apart.

“I was thinking about what it would be like to get married.”

There’s no dramatic pause, he doesn’t bring your combined motion to a halt; that doesn’t stop his expression from changing although not into what you expected. Leon gives you a soft smile, hesitant, but seemingly chooses to indulge your line of thought.

“What about getting married?” His tone is hushed, like you’re two children whispering secrets and it makes you giggly, nervousness bubbling in your throat like a bird flapping it’s wings against it’s cage.

“Just… What it would be like.” You shrug, shyness wrapping around your body like spectral hands. The wine you’d indulge in at dinner encouraging heat the spread lazily beneath your skin.

“What do you think it would be like?”

You could hold his gaze forever, you think. Maybe forever does exist that way: two people who live in one anothers faces, and you think again of those childhood crystals with their dazzling displays of endless light frozen inside.

“Hm, something like this, I think.”

“No specifics?” He teases you, extending the hand that holds yours to make room for you to lightly spin, laughing a little bit louder now.

“You’d hate them,” You say through more glittering peels of laughter.

“Mm, try me.”

“I’m picturing something like a courthouse, nothing as imposing as a cathedral or a big church.”

“How romantic,” He gives you a faux roll of his eyes, still smiling.

“Do you want a cathedral, a church?” You ask, genuinely curious now.

“It doesn’t really matter to me, I guess all that would matter is that you’re there.”

“Now who’s the sappy romantic?” It’s your turn to tease him and he takes it in stride, drawing you in and placing a wet, exaggerated kiss on your cheek that makes you dissolve into yet more unbridled giggles.

“And what else?” He encourages, the hand on your hip traveling to rest comfortably, solidly against your lower back.

You pretend to eye him critically before continuing. “I could wear some gaudy dress shaped like a puff pastery.”

That makes him laugh, a full body, bone deep laugh, the kind that makes satisfaction ooze through your own form, warm and sticky as maple syrup and you can’t help but resume your own silvery laughter. The sounds of your mingled gasps for air against the rush of joy mixes with the song, a unique sound that is wholly, unequivocally yours.

“You’d be the most beautiful puff pastry.”

And despite the absurdity of that sentence you can’t help the swell of adoration in your chest, can’t help but press kiss after kiss against his lips until you’ve both stopped moving, his eyes roaming your face in soft attentiveness as your fingertips brush against his jaw and the sound of music is drowned out by your mingled breaths.

He brings your hand to his lips, leaving a trail of kisses so chaste, so sweet they make your teeth ache as he makes his way from your knuckles to your inner wrist. His breath fanning across your skin grips you in a sudden lightheadedness and your heart pounds so hard you think there’s no way he can’t also hear its reckless rhythm.

“If I asked you right now, would you say yes?”

And all is quiet. Gone is the overpowering sound of your heart, the soft twinkle of music, the sound of breath leaving body. The question hangs frozen, suspended in the air between you two like a single perfect, encapsulated snowflake.

“I would always say yes to you,’’ Your voice breaks, just the tiniest fraction of a crack and he huffs out another low breath of laughter, pressing your wrist to his lips with more firmness, more intensity present than before. Slowly he lowers your arm, holding your hand once more and resting his forehead against yours, searching for something in your wide eyed gaze.

The quiet that descends on you doesn’t do so as a threat, not with speed nor discomforting awkwardness. It’s the quiet of two lovers, content to rest in the moment with one another before moving to the next.

“There’s no rush,” You whisper, your voice a tender, furtive thing not unlike a newly hatched little bird hesitantly peeking into the sunlight for the first time.

And your words bleed out around the tiny little living room, like dye dropped into water, spreading and curling into even the farthest corners of your apartment as your eyes close and you tuck your neck against his chest, neither of you moving and it’s wholly possible that you could stay that way for an eternity, ivy growing thick and wild as it winds around your legs, drips down your fingertips, takes the place of your hair.

Maybe eternity only exists in the fleetest, most foolish of moments.

“You’re right. And it would be disappointing, getting proposed to with no ring.”

“You could give me one of those candy ones,” you say without moving from his chest and you feel more than hear the light chuckle it earns you.

“We’ve gotta work on your taste.”

“Are you saying I have bad taste?”

“I mean, look at your choice of man.”

At that you laugh again and the motion of your bodies resumes along with the music, in the lamplight glow of evening now, that perfect glimpse of eternity resting in the cradle of your memory.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine

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strawberrystepmom · 11 months ago

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gojo x f!reader. reader is referred to as my girl. a little fluffy christmas moment bc i will give the me whatever she wants. wc 989

divider thanks to @/saradika-graphics

“I told you not to get me anything,” you whine with a pout when Satoru passes you a wrapped gift box.

Sitting cross legged in front of the tree the two of you decorated together, he has just finished opening the things you gifted him. Weeks ago, you vowed to keep it simple this year but then you sat down and started purchasing and the history is now unwrapped and sitting in his lap. A new scarf in a lovely light purple you will love seeing him wear and a handmade book you drew the illustrations for yourself to match the others you’ve given him over the years are the two hits this Christmas but he thanked you exuberantly for every other gift in the pile surrounding him with a kiss each time.

Now he lays on his belly on the ground and cups his face in his palms, staring up at you with furrowed brows. You’re gazing at the box so tenderly he wonders if you think that it’s the gift itself and he sighs.

“Just open it, you’re killing me here.”

The paper is so intricate and beautiful you feel bad even considering ripping into it, pink with delicate white and gold glitter snowflakes and a matching white ribbon. Thumbing at the tape keeping the edge closed, he groans and moves to grab it out of your lap but you pluck it from atop your thigh and whine. Patience has never been his strong suit, it is why there is paper strewn across the floor around the two of you, but he can wait given you didn’t ask for anything to open in the first place.

“It’s my gift! Let me open it at my own pace.”

Gently tugging the tape away from the paper, you stick your tongue out of the corner of your mouth while lifting each of the paper flaps and a box slides out. It’s white, nondescript, something you could get anywhere. A childlike urge in you makes you want to shake it to hear what’s inside but you refrain. You take your time opening the box while Satoru kicks his legs out impatiently behind him.

“Now you’re doing it on purpose.”

You giggle because you are, it’s always a pleasure to make him wait given how overindulged he is, but you are just as eager to see what’s inside as he is for your reaction. Opening the box, you furrow your brows and gasp when the shiny glass dome of a snow globe comes into view. They’re your favorite of all the holiday decorations and he knows it just as he knows everything else about you. There’s no hiding anything from him.

“Oh baby,” you coo and he beams, grin as sparkly as the snowflakes on the wrapping paper shedding glitter into your lap. Pulling the globe out you grunt dramatically over the weight of the thing and gasp again when it’s in your full view.

The two of you, a pair of tiny ice skaters, permanently encased in a globe depicting a scene of a frozen pond. The base of the globe is silver and heavy and there’s an engraving in the metal your eyes are too blurry to read, tears filling them while capturing the small details of the little couple inside the bubble.

“Why did you do this?”

Your beloved shimmies across the floor on his elbows to deposit his head in your lap and you carefully stroke his hair with your free hand. Looking up at you, his cheeks pink and warm from the heat in your living room, your heart stills for a moment. He is your everything and not just on Christmas. Sniffling, you continue petting his soft white strands and set the snow globe down on the floor by the two of you.

“Because I love you, obviously.” You grin down at him and giggle. “And I got a little jealous of the way you looked at the guy in the snow globe on the dresser. Is there something I should know?”

Your giggle becomes a full blown laugh and you lean down to kiss him, cupping his face in your hands like always.

“The way I look at Santa?”

“Yeah. What’s that all about?”

Shaking your head, you kiss him again and a satisfied sigh leaves him. Santa is surely not any competitor he needs to plan to get rid of but at least you can replace that old bag with someone a lot more handsome who is holding your little sculpted hand on glistening ice.

“Turn the knob, play the song too.”

You tip your head to the side quizzically and he reaches to turn the key himself, the notes of your holiday favorite song playing while the two of you turn around and around inside a world of his own making. Sniffling, you lean down to kiss him again and he stops you before you can adjust yourself to sitting upward.

“You like it?”

“I love it.”

He smiles and smacks his lips.

“Not as much as I love you.”

Leaning back down, you pepper his face with kisses and he considers it your attempt to get the last word, something he simply cannot allow.

“Merry Christmas, my girl.”

“Merry.”

A wet snack on his cheek from your lips.

“Christmas.”

Another kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Satoru.”

And finally, blissfully, a kiss to his forehead straight from the one he loves the most.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #kendall writes #satoken

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writingwisterias · 1 month ago

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Movie Nights

Leon Kenndey x Reader (Use's Fem pronouns)

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff! Girl Dad Leon Summary: Leon returns home to his girls who have built a fort and prepared a movie night (I thought of DI! Leon but any will do!)

Leon's keys were loud as he fiddled with the front door, your little girl giggled in your arms - the sound attempted to be muted with your hand over her mouth. Your own giggles threaten to spill as you watch her excitement. "Girls?" Leon's voice thundered through the house. Normally his baby girl would have bounded through the home, racing as fast as she could to launch herself into his arms. But there wasn't the sound of her footsteps slapping against the wood or her distant giggles from wherever she was in the house. His heartbeat quickened slightly panic trying to worm his way into his chest.

You both could hear his footsteps around the house, his biker boots thumping as he checked every room. You both giggled at the loud thud as they came to a stop at the doorway of the room you were in. Leon smiled at the sight of the fairy lights that gave the room a warm glow, only muted by the numerous bedsheets that covered the room creating a fort. His sigh was audible as he freed it, his anxiety now settling; the action making you feel guilty for insisting your little girl hid to scare him. "I wonder where my girl has gone" he chuckled, his words dramatised for effect. Leon's heart swelled as his daughter bounded out of the sheets, starfishing before him as she released the tiniest scream. The intention was to scare him but not trigger any of his PTSD that lingered after all his years of service. He pretended to jump, flinching away dramatically; holding a hand to his chest as he pretended to catch his breath.

You watched as they hugged each other, Leon's frame engulfing hers as he held her. Breathing in the sweet smell of the cheap body mist she insisted he bought her last week, she chirped, "Welcome home, daddy," she chirped in his chest. He muttered his own welcome, the sound muffled in her blonde hair. So, what's going on here, then pumpkin?" he asked her, pointing at the fort before them. The small girl giggled, "Mommy made us a fort to watch movies"

Leon smiled when he saw you, his eyes sparkingly with admiration as he saw your grin. "Did she now? I see you both have your Pj's on" He replied, his fingers rubbing against the soft fabric as he held her. She nodded, her hair flying all over her face as more giggles filled the room. This was why Leon kept fighting, in hopes he could protect the innocence of his little girl; to hide her from all the horrors of the world. "Yes! You have to wear them too or no cookies" She demanded, her little fingers poking his chest to prove her point. "Is that the rules?" He laughed. "No PJs - No cookies....no homemade cookies" You teased, a smile plastered on your features. Leon groaned but complied guiding his daughter back to you as he left to change.

He loved being sandwiched in the middle of the both of you. His little girl resting her head on his lap as she watched the same Disney princess movie, his heart melted every time he heard her voice sing along. Your head rested against his shoulder, your hands entwined as you took in this small little bubble, the fluffy blankets a cushions making it cosy and safe away from everything else if just but a moment. Leon never thought he would get the chance to have this, assuming her would be worked to the bone or drink himself to death. But since finding you, the speed dial on his motorbike lowered, and the levels in all the bottles never dropped, and finally home seemed more welcoming. Even if he did find pink glitter on all of his shirts, the specks sticking to his work boots. His laptop was covered in Disney-themed stickers; his head was constantly filled with that one annoying song he could never get rid of. He wouldn't change it for anything though- this is what he wanted; all tucked away safely in a fort....with Elsa serenading them.

#resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x you #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil

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acourtofmoonlightandstars · 8 months ago

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Find me - Chapter 1

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: At a ball you meet the one person you thought you would never see again, you left him once. Will you leave him again?

Word count: Currently no idea

Warnings: Some sugestiveness, angst and minor details of Azriels work as a spymaster.

Note: So this is loosely based on a dream I once had, it was heartbreaking so I thought I might as well use writing as therapy

Chapter 2

The ballroom was huge and the light flickering from the crystal chandeliers that hung above your head made all jewels, sequin and glitter reflect the light. It was a beautiful sight.

You walked through the crowd of people, looking for no one in particular. You had no idea how or when you’d gotten here, you weren’t even quite sure who had invited you. Usually you stayed within the borders of your own court. But it seemed that you’d made an exception for once.

Everyone seemed somewhat familiar. You smiled at the friends who laughed around the tables filled with food as they filled each other goblets with fairy wine, at the couples who snuck away to find somewhere a little more secluded to steal a minute or two and at those who filled the room with laughter that echoed through the room.

As a waiter walked past you, you grabbed a flute of champagne from his tray. You sipped at the bubbly drink as you scanned the room once more, hoping to see at least one person you recognized. And then you spotted him.

He was beautiful in his black suit, it was such a stark contrast from his usual leathers and blue siphons. His wings were tucked close to him, almost as if he was afraid to take up space. His hair was combed back, revealing his forehead and the slight wrinkle he had between his brows. Your breath hitched, and you suddenly wished you were able to turn invisible at will.

You wanted nothing more than to walk up to him and ruffle his hair, once again revealing his somewhat loose curls that you’d once loved to run your fingers through in the late hours of the night. You wanted nothing more than to once again kiss his lips, to taste him.

But you had left him, that much you knew. But you just couldn’t remember why.

His shadows pooled around his feet, and indicated the constant stream of information that was always available to the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. You felt something cold around your ankle, and as you hiked up your skirt you saw the little rouge shadow that had slipped past its master. It almost looked like a puppy happy to be reunited with its owner as it twirled around you.

You giggled, which only seemed to amuse it even more.

In the hope that you could turn it away before he noticed its absence, you looked towards where he had been mere seconds before, and your eyes met his right away. The eyes you had once loved to stare into for hours at the time, the hazel pools of a man you once knew, seemed sad all of the sudden.

It was an emotion that seemed so out of character for him, and you felt your heart breaking a little at the sight of it, especially knowing that you were most likely the cause of the sadness and the purple shadows that hung underneath his eyes.

Azriel furrowed his brows at the rouge shadow as he no undoubtedly tried calling it back to him. But it seemed like it refused to listen to his quiet command. He walked towards you with a confidence that would make lesser males crumble in his presence.

You felt the blush creeping up your neck before it settled in your cheeks.

“Excuse me” he almost whispered, as he went out of his way to not meet your eyes. He bent down and physically yanked the shadow from you. You could’ve sworn it looked almost sad to leave you behind.

He stood up, and quickly turned away from you, almost fleeing. You don’t know what came over you but you grabbed his wrist and saw him stiffen as your skin came into contact with his.

“Y/N… Please, dont” it was an almost silent plea, one who broke your heart, but there was no way you were letting him walk away from you.

You pulled him towards you, forcing him to face you. He had a pained expression on his face and his eyes were closed. Despite of that you still send a small smile his way. Your other hand found his other wrist and you slowly pulled his arms around your waist.

He reacted instantly and despite not even noticing, he pulled you closer to him. “I’m so sorry” You whispered as you raised your hand to his cold cheek. He leaned into your touch as he finally looked at you, a single tear escaping his eyes. Your thumb quickly whisked it away before anyone had a chance to notice it.

The shadows swirled around the two of you desperate to give you some privacy, and even his wings seemed to be shielding the two of you from wandering eyes.

“I don’t know why I left you, I won't ever leave you again, please just give me another chance” you whispered, your voice threatened to crack, as his eyes searched your face for any sign of a deception, any sign of what you were saying, was nothing more than a lie.

“Don’t say things you might regret…”

You shook your head and sent a small smile his way, it was filled with regret and sadness. “It’s always been you and I’m here now and I promise it won't ever happen again”

But were you able to promise him that? You still couldn’t remember why or how you had left him behind, it was like a distant memory that was locked away, one you couldn’t access.

He pulled you from the ground and you couldn’t help the giggle when he nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck. Desperate for your scent, desperate to feel your heartbeat against his own. “You better mean it” he whispered against your exposed skin.

You pulled at his hair, ruining it even though he had most likely done his best to bend his curls to his will for the event tonight. But you didn’t care, you always liked him better with his bed head anyways.

He kissed his way from that sweet spot where your neck met your shoulder, he nibbled at your ear and kissed you from there, down your cheekbones until his lips hovered over your own. And in a blink of an eye he stole your shallow breaths from your mouth with his own. He ate every whimper and small moan, as if they all belonged to him and him alone, as if it would be the crime of the century if any other male heard it.

“You do know you’re in a public place right? Everyone can see you” the voice was teasing, but in no way cruel. Without letting you down Azriel turned towards the other winged male that now stood in front of the two of you.

Azriel laughed, and his brother realized he hadn’t heard that sound in months.

“I apologize Cass” and he felt you stiffen in his arms, and sent you a reassuring smile, before once again returning you to the ground. He was here, the Lord of Bloodshed, Cassian. But of course he was, they would all most likely be here.

“It’s all good. But Nesta is gonna hate that she skipped this ball tonight, she would’ve loved to see you take a female in front of all these fancy fae”

This time it was your time to laugh, and you flet how your muscles relaxed at his way of addressing the elephant in the room. Azriel couldn’t help but to pull you closer to his side, lips kissing the top of your head.

“So you must be the one who broke my brother's heart” Cassian said as he crossed his arms, to anyone beside you and Azriel, he would look angry, almost disappointed in the way he stood before you. But all you could see was the happiness he held for his brother.

Cassian sent you a small smile. “Don’t worry, I don’t judge, my own mate was indecisive as well”

You couldn’t help but almost wince at his words. It wasn’t that you were indecisive, or at least you didn’t think that was it…

“It’s okay. It all worked out in the end” Azriel said.

The night went on and his hand never left your hip, he pulled you as close to him as he could whenever he felt a male came too close to you. You adored his possessiveness. Now you just needed to feel like you’d earned it.

The two of you spent almost every day together after the ball. It didn’t take him long to introduce you to the rest of his family. The inner circle of the Night Court.

Your father had told you the stories of both their power and their beauty, but despite all the stories, they were kind, welcoming and warm. You felt right at home.

At no point did you regret making contact with him the night of the ball. In fact you could feel yourself falling in love with Azriel, a little more every day.

He adored you, and he spared no expenses in showing you exactly how much you meant to him. Everytime he came home from a mission, he would bring you flowers from the given court. He would either make you homemade meals, or take you out to eat at the most beautiful restaurants in the city.

He would take you on flights over Valaris, on walks near the Sidra or just down to the nearest cafe or bakery to pick up something sweet or warm whenever you felt a little down. Apart from that he spoiled you rotten with gifts, to such a degree you almost had more diamonds than Amren.

You were however your happiest whenever you woke up to him by your side, and nothing beat the beauty that was his eyes as they reflected the morning sun. They were like liquid gold. He was beautiful, and sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all a dream.

As time went on he opened more and more up to you. He told you about his life, both the good and the bad. About his childhood, who he had become after Rhys and Cassian had found him. He told you about his role in the court as both shadowsinger and spymaster, and how he had days where he loathed who he was and what he had done, and others where he celebrated the screams he carved from the lungs of his prisoners.

And despite his fears you didn’t flee or coward when he reached out for you. You had instead held him, and whispered sweet nothing in his ear, confirming that you loved him despite all he had gone through, and that you loved him because of who he was. He had cried in your arms at your words.

You saw him, all of him and you loved both the good and the bad.

At no point had you ever expected to be with a man of his profession, but here you were. The people of Valaris were quick to catch on. They always greeted the two of you, they helped you with picking his gifts and selecting his favorite sweets at the bakery he loved to visit each sunday morning.

The fact that you got to be his in Valaris of all places, was more than enough. Being out and public to all fae, to all courts, would only paint a target on your back. One that he feared would take you from him too soon, whereas you feared that you would be used against him. You had no interest in ever letting it come to that.

After All you wanted nothing more than to protect him, to keep him safe, and he felt the same. He had given you one of his shadows, the rouge that had left his side that night of the ball. After all it seemed like it liked you more than him anyways, but this way he would know if you were ever in any kind of danger.

Nesta had told him it was a little much, especially since the two of you were basically joined at the hip, it was rare that you saw one of you without the other. You were one soul separated into two people. It was clear for all to see.

The inner circle had quickly started making bets on just when the bond would snap for the two of you. And despite the fact that you always rolled your eyes when they began speculating, you couldn’t help but hope that they were right.

Your brother had his mate, and so did Azriels brothers. It would only be right if the two of you had one too right? And if so why wouldn’t the Cauldron grant you eachother? With every fiber of your being you hoped that he was yours and that you were his.

One morning you stood in the courtyard at the house of wind as the sun was slowly rising from its usual hiding place beneath the horizon. Azriel was circling you, wearing nothing but his boots and leather pants.

The look of his tattoos and his muscles were now covered with sweat that was glistening in the morning sun, was enough for you to skip practice and go back to bed with him. You wanted nothing more than to be entangled in him and his scent.

The sun that shone through the fine membrane of his wings made him look like a god of death and war. What a sight to see. He sent you a dazzling smirk as he saw the pure lust and adoration in your eyes. He most likely smelled it on you as well.

You smirked back and sent him a little wave. But it wasn't enough for him to lose focus on his task at hand. It rarely was.

“You look so beautiful angel,” he said. Despite what you might’ve thought he couldn’t help but adore you in the morning light either. He was mere seconds away from abandoning his workout only to throw you over your shoulder and have his way with you. Where that would be, he didn’t care. You chuckled. It was his favorite sound in the entire world, and he hoped that he would always be the one to make you laugh.

And then you felt it. It was as if the world shifted on its axis, it was like it had been so many months ago. It was the same feeling you had the first time you had left him. And as the memories came rushing back to you, you paled.

As your smile dropped and your eyes became distant, almost as if a fog now hid them from the world. “Y/N…?” You heard his fear and desperation as he said your name.

“Promise me you’ll find me, promise me” It was all you could say, you struggled with getting the words out as you felt yourself drifting from this reality. You saw him spring towards you, his wings giving him momentum.

And then everything went dark.

When you woke up the darkness was still surrounding you. You laid there with your eyes closed for a few minutes as you tried to recall his features, his name, where you had been. But there was nothing, nothing except an ache in that place that usually held your heart.

All you remembered was the feeling of running your hands through his hair, how his lips sent electricity down your spine as he kissed that sweet spot right beneath your ear, whenever he snuck up behind you. You remember his rough hands, and a feeling of something cold that you couldn’t quite place. Everything else was a blur.

As you opened your eyes you looked towards the small clock that stood on your bedside table. 06:45. You had to get up soon, but the mere thought of leaving your bed made your head spin. It felt like you had lost something precious, it felt like you had lost your heart, and in its stead there was now only a black hole filled with nothing but emptiness and pain.

You had no idea how to start your day, it felt like you should stay right here, stay at home and mourn the loss of him.

Maybe he remembers, maybe he will be able to find me. You thought as you tried soothing the emptiness in your chest by rubbing the palm of your hand over where it ached.

But how could he? He was after all only a figment of your imagination, he was after all only a character in your dream. But he felt real, and you could nothing but hope that someone, someday would ever love you as unconditionally as he had.

At the other end of Prythian, Azriel Shadowsinger, Spymaster of the Night Court, had woken with such pain in his chest that he for a second had been convinced he had been stabbed in his sleep. And as his dream, no his memories of you, flooded his senses he knew what he needed to do.

You had to be real, he needed you to be real. So he sent out his shadows in search of the one person who now held his heart, the one person he would never stop looking for, you, his mate.

I promise you angle, I will find you

note: aaaaah this is my first ever acotar fic! don't be afraid to leave feedback, I would very much appreciate it! I feel like a part two would be absolutely amazing, but maybe I'll just do it as a stand alone since it's kind of heartbreaking. But we'll see!

#azriel rec #azriel x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel #acosf #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel mate

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ginxyy · 10 days ago

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Midnight Kiss

Well, that was a New Year’s Eve kiss you won’t forget any time soon.

The countdown was in full swing, and the world outside was a vivid tapestry of firework bursts and laughter. You stood amidst a throng of revelers, the air thick with excitement and the unmistakable scent of romance. It was New Year’s Eve, that magical time when the past year fades away, filled with optimism for what lies ahead. But if anyone had told you that you'd be sharing a kiss at midnight with none other than Seungcheol, the charismatic leader of Seventeen, you would've snorted into your champagne. And yet, here you were, heart racing, eyes sparkling, and not just from the bubbles in your glass.

You had come to this lavish party an elusive invite you had miraculously secured hoping for a glimpse of your favorite idols, fully aware that you were just a regular girl in a sea of ultra-glam celebrities. The room was alive with chatter and clinking glasses, but beneath the festive chaos, your heart betrayed you, thumping erratically as you caught sight of Seungcheol. He stood a few yards away, effortlessly charming, laughter dancing in his eyes as he interacted with his friends. You tried to play it cool, but your hands were clammy with equal parts nervousness and exhilaration. Would your eyes betray the thrill that surged within, or could you keep your heart locked away from the onlookers?

As the grand clock inched closer to midnight, you found yourself drawn toward the gathering crowd, your friends cheering sporadically, attempting to initiate party games with fellow fans. You could feel the anticipation build; the air was thick with a palpable energy that made it impossible to stay still. Whatever worries you had evaporated as the lights dimmed and the countdown begana resounding reminder that something huge was about to happen.

“Ten... nine... eight...” The collective voice of the crowd crescendoed as you joined in, adrenaline pulsing through you. With every number, you felt your heart race a little faster. You glanced back at Seungcheol, who was now directly across from you, his eyes sparkling like the stars a dangerous juxtaposition of celebrity confidence and boyish charm.

“Seven... six...” You debated calling out his name, fighting the urge to break the spell. Who were you, after all? As if sensing your vulnerability, he turned suddenly, meeting your gaze with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“Five... four...” You never believed in fate, but at that moment, you felt the universe shift. Just a normal girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders, yet here you were, caught in the magnetism that radiated from him.

“Three... two...” The countdown echoed through your being like a drum, building excitement and nerves simultaneously. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, harmonizing with the restless crowd as they inch closer to the climactic moment—a massive wave of exhilaration surging through everyone.

“ONE!”

The room erupted as fireworks lit up for miles, painting the night sky in vibrant colors. For a brief moment, you were lost in the brilliance, but your reality quickly settled back in. You turned toward Seungcheol, and in a whirlwind of spontaneous decisions, you both found yourselves standing in front of each other, the loud clamor fading into mere background noise.

In a matter of seconds, the world around you seemed to vanish, leaving just the two of you under a shower of glitter. Your heart raced as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. With everyone around you cheering and celebrating, time stood still. There were no words needed, no awkward small talk just the undeniable chemistry pulling you both into an orbit of sheer magic.

Suddenly, his lips met yours, and wow, was that kiss electrifying. The world dissolved into a sweet haze of fireworks and a heartbeat that felt impossibly magnetic. His lips were soft, and the kiss felt like a warm embrace amid the winter chill. It wasn’t just any kiss; it had that raw spontaneity of a couple dropping their guards amidst a swirling chaos. You could feel laughter spilling from him, but it morphed into something deeper as you lost yourself in the moment. You could taste the effervescent boost of your champagne on his lips, and you couldn’t help but laugh through the kiss, echoing his delight.

“I can’t believe we’re kissing!” you muffled, breaking apart ever so slightly, your eyes widening as it finally sank in, the reality of sharing a New Year’s Eve kiss with someone you admired so deeply.

“How could we not? It’s a classic ‘midnight kiss’,” Seungcheol chuckled, mischief dancing in his eyes. There it was his signature warmth, his charm that made it all seem effortlessly spontaneous, even amidst the hoards of fans and flashing cameras.

“Is this going to make headlines?” you joked nervously, glancing furtively around you. His laughter rang out, a comforting melody that entangled you both as you navigated the chaos swirling around you.

“Probably,” he said with a wink. “But I promise, I’m not just a headline I’m a great kisser!” There was something about the way he said it that made you want to both laugh and swoon, as if he had just opened a door into his playful world.

“Let’s make it one for the books, then!” you shot back playfully, feeling the bubbling excitement of spontaneity spiral into another playful kiss. If this was the era of clumsy resolutions and sparkling champagne, you were ready to craft this beautiful disarray into a story that would have you chuckling long after the evening ended.

As the party continued on around you, you quickly discovered that sometimes being normal wasn’t so bad, especially when you find yourself at the center of a whirlwind romance that feels like a dream an unexpected, delightful surprise that made New Year’s Eve everything you never knew you wanted. And as laughter mixed with fireworks and enchanting moments lingered in the air, you knew this was one midnight kiss you would never forget.

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honeyed-hedonist · 7 months ago

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Parings: Jason Todd x Reader Word Count: 2.2k Summary: You and Jason spend some quality time together on a balmy summer night amongst the flora and fauna. Things quickly heat up, as they so often do when the two of you are together. Warnings: SMUT--MINORS DNI. fingering, foul language, Jason being stupidly strong and handsome and hot and hshsaksjfkhf!! A/N: Hi hello! Since my old blog got deleted (I'm still not over it. Ten+ years of work and building up a following gone down the drain), I've decided to start reposting my old stuff here. This one used to be called Sweet Bitter, but I decided to change the name. ENJOY!

IF YOU LIKE THIS STORY, PLEASE REBLOG IT.

There’s something about the way the moonlight casts a silvery glow to your eyes, how it turns your dewy skin a pearlescent shade of indigo, that has Jason punch drunk, lips parted in silent awe while he watches you take in the scenery. You look ethereal, a goddess come down from heaven to fill the cracks in his soul with liquid gold until he’s overflowing—and fuck, he’s never been more in love with you than he is right now.

The midnight air is ripe with honeyed blossoms and earthy moss, a symphony of buzzing cicadas fills the silence as a balmy breeze tousles a few loose strands of your hair around your face. It has him reaching out to tuck them behind your ear, pulling your focus from the lush greenery around you to his glittering blue eyes instead.

Jason gives you a lazy grin, the kind that makes your stomach flutter, fingertips brushing the curve of your jaw before he settles back on his elbows across the blanket and your gaze lifts skyward. You’ve never seen so many stars before—the light pollution in Gotham almost blots out the moon most nights, and you want to commit this view to memory, to remember every twinkling ball of starlight scattered across the charcoal sky.

“How’d you find this place?” You murmur softly, fingers curling around the hem of your sundress, picking at the edge idly.

“Ivy owed me a favor.” Jason answers, laughing when your head whips around to look at him.

“This is Poison Ivy’s garden?” You hiss, eyebrows knitted together, and he laughs harder, his palm cupping your knee as he gives you a gentle shake.

“Relax, baby,” he teases, laughter still bubbling up in his throat. It makes his voice a little raspier, a little more gruff, and with it your pulse spikes, because goddamn if little things like that don’t turn you to mush. “There’s nothing poisonous here, I promise.”

You give him a skeptical look, but it quickly melts away into a smile that makes Jason’s throat tight with emotion. Yeah, he’s in deep, tilting back a swig of his beer in hopes that it’ll hide the heat that’s coloring his cheeks rosy. It doesn’t, your smile turning cheshire when you snatch the bottle from his hands and neck back what’s left.

His face turns sour, glaring at you while he folds those thick arms across his chest, his t-shirt struggling to contain the sheer mass of him, the cotton stretched to its limit. The sight has your cheeks warming, mouth going dry, because it should be fucking illegal to look like that. “I was drinking that, brat.” Jason chides, and you answer with a flick of your tongue past your lips, blowing a raspberry at him.

“Sucks to suck, I guess.” You retort, lifting your eyes back towards the sky, the distraction providing a perfect opportunity for him to wrap those massive hands around your waist and haul you onto his lap.

It’s no surprise to anyone that Jason is strong, he’s built like a brick shithouse—an absolute unit of a man from head to toe, and yet it still catches you off guard every single time he flaunts that strength. Like all of those early mornings when he’s just gotten home from patrol while you’re getting ready for work and he can’t help but lift you into his arms to fuck you in the shower, or those hazy nights when you’ve both had one too many and he’s got you folded in half against the brick wall of an alley, one hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds you make while he turns you inside out with the slow drag of his cock.

Your reaction is always the same though, an excitable giggle slipping out from behind your teeth as your hands settle on his shoulders, only this time your legs are spread open to accommodate the width of his stocky thighs. You bite your lip, and Jason’s bravado slips, if only for a moment, as his eyes track the movement, blood immediately rushing to his dick and—shit, why the fuck did he wear jeans tonight?

“Wanna say that again?” He goads, cocking his head to the side, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your hips until you squeal, wriggling around on his lap in an attempt to flee. “Nuh uh, you’re goin’ nowhere, baby.” Jason taunts you, his arms locking around your back, pulling you in until you’re chest to chest.

It’s a wonder, he thinks, gazing at you through hooded eyes, how he ever manages to keep his hands off of you in the first place, how the two of you even make it out of your bedroom. Someone should give him a goddamn medal or something, because it takes more self control than he’s used to practicing—resisting the urge he has to tear your shit up every minute of every day.

And that’s without mentioning how you look tonight, sprawled out on top of him in that little scrap of fabric you call a sundress, the hem riding up the tops of your buttery thighs, exposing the barest hint of your core, pussy lips peeking out from behind those lacy panties you’re sporting—taunting him, begging for the kind of attention he’s all too happy to supply.

You let your hands roam, gliding across the tops of his shoulders and around to the back of his neck, fingertips snaking up through his hair, the longer pieces curling in the sticky, nighttime summer heat. “You got that much right, at least.” You tell him, because even though you’re more composed about it, you’re still just as lovesick as he is.

“Sweet talkin’ me isn’t gonna make me forget your little comment,” Jason muses, palms dragging up the outsides of your thighs until his fingers disappear beneath the skirt of your dress, thumbs rubbing heated circles into the skin, “but I’ll let you make it until we get home.”

A promise for later.

His hands travel higher still, dipping under the lace stretched thinly at the apex of your thighs. He drags them inward, tugging the sodden material away from your slit, the rough pads of his fingertips tracing the crease where your legs meet your cunt. You keep your eyes fixed on his, hiccuping a soft breath in because you know exactly what he’s thinking when he leans in, nose skimming across your jaw and up until his breath is cooling against the shell of your ear.

“Wore this thing just to torture me, didn’t you? Been flashing me these pretty little panties all night. Think you’re so clever, hm?” You puff out a shaky breath, nodding softly, your hair tickling Jason’s face. “Shame m’gonna ruin ‘em.” His fingers curl and pull, ripping at the delicate lace until it tears apart and he pulls them clean off in one fell swoop, another pair of your underwear now lost to his impatience and show-boating.

Jason lets his tongue trace over your cartilage, teeth nipping at your earlobe until you shiver, a soft whimper forcing its way out of your mouth. “So proud of yourself, aren’t you? Got me all worked up—you and that smart fuckin’ mouth in this tiny fuckin’ dress. Know what m’gonna do now, baby?”

He cups your pussy and gives it a firm squeeze, pleased as punch when his palm is met with the oozing slick of your arousal, free hand trailing up your spine until he’s cradling the back of your head. It almost feels loving, and then he tightens that hand into a fist, tangling your hair as he yanks your head backwards, exposing the column of your throat to his eager mouth.

Plush lips latch onto your dewy skin until the blood vessels rupture while Jason runs his first two fingers over your slit, spreading you open, groaning at the heat he finds there. He knows exactly what it feels like to be swamped by that heat, wrapped up in molten velvet, and he ruts his hips up into you, cock straining beneath denim, the zipper catching on his sensitive head until he rips himself away to hiss.

“Gotta get you ready, yeah? Gonna fuck you dumb when we get home, princess. Fill you so full’a my cum that it’ll be leakin’ outta you ‘til tomorrow night.” Your answering moan makes him feral, growling as he hauls your mouth down to meet his in a kiss that’s wet and messy, no desire at all to make it pretty or sweet, and that suits you just fine.

Finally, Jason lets his fingers dredge through your folds, swiping over your clit, down to your hungry little hole, and back up—teasing you, feeling the way your sensitive pearl pulses under his touch. Sucking your tongue into his mouth, he groans, drunk off the taste of you, sweet as honeydew with a hint of bitter from the beer you stole. He hooks two digits inside you, swallowing the sound you make—shell shocked and breathy while he works you open until his palm is flat against your mons.

He keeps them there, deeply seated, and curls them against your gummy walls while your fingernails dig harshly into the meat of his biceps and you squeal. It’s too much—a sensory overload, barely any effort at all and you’re already wound so fucking tight, amazed by how quickly Jason can make you sprung. “Mhm,” he murmurs against your kiss swollen lips, hazy eyes bouncing between yours, “that’s my girl, lemme hear you. Know it feels good, baby, gonna make it all better just—fuck—just sit still for me, hm?”

Lust-drunk, you nod frantically, whining low in your throat as Jason begins to fuck you with his fingers, opening you up for a third that has you bouncing softly on his lap. Christ, he’s never seen you quite like this—so wild and free, wanton cries of pleasure drowning out the consonance of buzzing from the fireflies that flit through the air around you.

“Jay,” you pant, arching into him, pretty tits perched right in his face, nipples pebbled and peeking through the thin material of your dress, “fuck, s’good. Please—wan’ cum.” He bends forward to tongue at your tits, teeth catching on those perked little nubs, lavishing them with the attention they’re sorely missing. It makes your thighs quiver, his thumb joining in his efforts to shatter you right here and now, flicking tight and hard against your clit.

“Go on, pretty girl. Cum for me, make it nice an’ messy.” He coos, the tone of his voice is almost mocking, but you’re far too lost in your pleasure to care. You’ll worry about what this means for the rest of your night later, right now all you care about is chasing the release that’s rising quickly and you to meet it.

The wet squelch of you pussy is music to Jason’s ears, his forearm burning from his efforts, fucking into you at a brutal pace while your walls flutter deliciously around his fingers. Leaning back a little, he untangles his hand from your hair and grips your jaw hard enough that it pulls your focus and you wince. “Eyes on me, baby.” He commands, desperate to watch the way you crumble for him—only for him.

Your orgasm crests and then crashes, rocketing you into bliss so sharp that you see stars, an imprint of the very same sky you were just gazing at not twenty minutes ago, your entire body quaking as he corrals you by your hip, anchors you flat atop his thighs while he works you through it. He can feel your cum rolling down his wrist, cooing and praising you with sweet words as he kitten licks the sweat gathered above your lips, across your chin, salty and earthy.

“Good fuckin’ girl. Cum so hard for me, look so goddamn beautiful, princess.” He murmurs, biting at the juncture where your neck and shoulder meet while you ride out the final waves of pleasure, flexing out your fingers from where they were wedged into his arms.

Jason gives you a moment to breathe, gentle when he slips his fingers free from your swollen, gushy core. Bringing them up to his mouth, his tongue laps at the pearly droplets running down his arm, fingers webbed with your glistening release that he suckles greedily with a lascivious moan. The sound travels straight to your overworked clit, a gentle thrumming already starting up again as he cocks a brow at you and smirks, like he just knows.

“Better get you home, huh? Don’t think Ivy would take too kindly to us defiling her garden more than we already did.” You sock him square on his chest, and he laughs, pulling you close for another kiss that you smile into, cupping his face in your hands.

“Good idea,” You answer, the tip of your nose brushing his. “Apparently I have some apologizing to do. Sensitive little baby Jason Todd can’t handle a little ribbing.”

His smile widens, not bothering to call you on your jibe. “Damn right you do,” he says, lifting you off of his lap to start gathering your things. When he stands, he offers you his hand, and you slip your fingers between his—still damp from your pussy. Glancing down at you, Jason runs his tongue over his teeth and grins again, pulling you towards the path that leads out of the garden. “Plus you own me a beer.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood smut #batfam #batfamily #jason todd #red hood #smut fic #smut writing

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imthebadguyyy · 1 year ago

Text

Hold Me In Your Arms Tonight

pairing : steve rogers x reader

fandom : marvel

synopsis : steve comes home from a mission, and all he wants is to be wrapped up in your warmth and in your arms.

a/n : i just wanted to write something tender and sweet and smutty so here ya go

warnings : smut

the usual murmur of the quinjet had dulled, into a thick and heavy silence. as the machine soared through the night sky, the avengers found themselves in a rare moment of quietude after a particularly intense mission.

the air inside the jet hung heavy with a mix of exhaustion, and tension.

tony as usual, was the first to break the deafening silence. reclining, in his seat, his signature smirk missing commented, "well, that was fun, wasn't it? remind me to thank fury for these vacations."

natasha, sitting across from him, raised an eyebrow, one hand pressing an ice pack to the indigo bruise blooming on her wrist.

"now's really not the time" she muttered, eyes gesturing towards steve, who looked the picture of defeat.

the mission had started promisingly and could have been regarded as an amateur operation. intel suggested a hydra base operating in a remote location, with plans for a powerful biological weapon that could endanger innocent lives.

steve and tony had decided that the entire team didn't have to come, so the two of them with natasha and thor had suited up and gone, leaving bruce, wanda, clint you and sam to wait in the compound. they had what they thought was a meticulous plan to infiltrate and neutralize the threat.

until they actually reached the base.

as the team breached the compound, it had become evident that hydra was one step ahead. the entire facility was a trap, a carefully orchestrated ambush. waves upon waves of highly trained soldiers overwhelmed the avengers, forcing them into a chaotic retreat, that had left most of them nursing minor injuries.

"we didn't know cap" nat said, looking at the simmering anger in steve's eyes.

steve didn't lift his eyes off the spot he was focusing at on the wall.

"they knew we were coming. how the hell did they know?" thor asked, slamming mjolnir down in the ground.

tony muttered something along the lines of "our intel was compromised" but steve didn't care.

as the silhouette of the avengers compound came into view and natasha heaved a quiet sigh of relief.

she knew that the only person who would be able to calm steve and get through to him was you, and that you'd be the only person he'd ever open up to a 100%

with a hum, the jet landed, and the four trooped out, to see an awaiting maria hill, a grim furrow in her brow.

"cap we need a debrief on the-" her words died on her tongue and she computed the glare thor sent her way.

she understood the message : leave him alone.

speaking of, steve had walked into the compound, stepping into the elevator, head dropping low, he finally let out a deep sigh, fingers pressing the 4th floor, wanting nothing more than to have you in his arms.

the ding of the elevator signalled his arrival to you before he did.

you were standing in the kitchen, listening to the merry bubble of the kettle as you boiled hot water for a warm cup of midnight tea.

tony had given you and steve the entire fourth floor as your residential area, and you couldn't thank him enough for the state of the art amenities and accommodation.

just as you put your two spoons of tea leaves in the ceramic blue teapot clint and his wife had gifted you for your birthday, you heard the elevator door open, and the heavy footfalls of your husband echoed in the hall.

smiling to your self, you poured the hot water from the kettle to the teapot, just as steve's muscular frame filled the door of the hallway, his long shadow preceding him as he walked into the kitchen.

steve could smell the scent of black tea before he saw you, the homely scent wrapping him a warm hug that he didn't know he needed.

there were softly lit candles glittering softly all around the penthouse, and fresh bouquets of flowers in every vase. the plush sofas looked freshly dusted and soft music was playing in the background

soft, muted lighting enveloped the space, casting a warm and intimate ambiance. the city lights beyond the windows twinkled like a myriad of stars, creating a breathtaking backdrop against the darkened sky.

but to steve, none of this mattered. the only view he cared about was the one of you, shuffling around the kitchen in fuzzy bunny slippers and your silk blue pyjamas.

he watched as you moved with a quiet confidence, navigating the familiar space with ease. the rhythmic clink of porcelain against the marble countertop echoing as the cups were placed gently on a tray as you selected delicate tea cups from the cupboard. he watched your fingers, adorned with subtle rings, tracing the edges of the cups with a practiced familiarity.

as steve observed you with a mixture of admiration and emotion, his gaze, fixed on you, spoke volumes as he recognized the beauty in the simplicity of this moment. the anxious lines on his face softened, revealing a depth of emotion stirred by the sight of someone he cherished engaged in such an ordinary yet intimate act.

"hi baby" you smiled at him, smile dipping when you observed at the tenseness in his body language. his shoulders were taut, remnants of anxious lines softly fading from his forehead as he looked at you.

"hey" he said, voice cracking slightly, even more as you let out a soft "oh" reaching him in two steps to wrap your arms around him.

in the dimly lit room, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken emotions and words, but you both knew he didn't need words, he needed the unspoken reassurance that you were there with him, physically, in the moment.

he stood there, shoulders slumped, carrying the weight of the world on his weary frame. even captain america got overwhelmed sometimes. you approached him with a gentle understanding, eyes reflecting both empathy and love.

as you reached out to him, arms enveloping him in a comforting embrace, he crumbled.

the embrace wasn't just a physical connection; it was a lifeline, a silent reassurance that in this moment of vulnerability, he wasn't alone. your fingers traced soothing circles on his back, a rhythmic gesture that mirrored the ebb and flow of emotions he was clearly feeling.

he buried his face in the crook of your neck, desperate to find solace in the softness of your presence. the scent of your hair, a mix of strawberry and vanilla, familiar and comforting, mingled with the quiet warmth of the room.

the thump of your heartbeat, pulsing through your body, steady and reassuring, echoed against his chest, a gentle reminder that they faced the challenges together, and that as you had stated in your vows, your hearts would beat together as one for the rest of your lives.

"we were so close, but everything fell apart. the intel was off, our intel was compromised, we were ambushed. the team got separated, and we couldn't prevent the disaster. it's like no matter what i do, it's never enough." he whispered, voice broken and eyes haggard, pulling back to look at you.

his eyes sought home in yours, desperate to find the love he needed so badly.

you listened attentively, absorbing the raw emotion in his voice. as he spoke, his hands clenched, betraying the frustration and helplessness he felt.

running your hands up and down his back, you whispered back, "you can't blame yourself for everything. you're only human. superhuman, sure, but still human"

steve ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, letting out a bitter chuckle.

"im supposed to be a hero, someone who saves the day. but what if I'm not cut out for this? what if I'm just making things worse?" he said, and you found tears rising to your eyes at the anguish your husband was in, blue eyes as stormy as the ocean, nothing but insecurity and fear reflecting in them.

you reached for his hands, holding them in a reassuring grip, fingers running over his knuckles in a pattern only you could interpret.

"darling, being a hero doesn't mean you always succeed. it means facing challenges, even when the odds are against you. it means being brave enough to admit when you may possibly make a mistake and it means allowing yourself to grow from the bad days. you can't control everything, but you can learn from it and keep going. you're not alone in this. you have all of us and we're always going to be there when you need us because you're always there when we need you. thats what makes you captain america, steve, your unrelenting ability to show empathy in the face of danger"

steve found solace in the warmth of your gaze. the weight on his shoulders didn't vanish, but the shared burden made it more bearable. "i love you so much" he said, leaning his forehead on yours.

bending down, he pressed his lips to yours, as you melted into the kiss, hands coming up to hold his jaw, as your thumbs ran along his cheekbone. he rested his palm on your waist, fingers splayed out and tracing a pattern, as his other hand reached up to caress your face.

you had to reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down by the neck to meet your lips. he pulled you impossibly closer to him, hands gripping you so tight as if you would vanish into thin air.

before you knew it his lips were heavy on yours, hot and needy, each kiss becoming more and more desperate as his hands roamed the expanse of your body.

his tongue pushed against yours urgently, but you broke apart, panting heavily, to kiss his cheek and whisper a soft "i love you"

steve swore his heart melted as you spoke, fingers caressing your cheek as he scooped you up from below, letting your legs wrap around his waist, hands gripping your thighs tightly as he guided the both of you to the bedroom.

the bedroom embraced an alluring intimacy, its subdued lighting casting a warm, hazy glow that danced across the plush surfaces. a large canopy bed, draped in rich, dark linens, stood as the focal point, its soft contours inviting and enticing. the plush cushions and silken sheets glowed softly in the dim lights,

the air was infused with a subtle fragrance of vanilla and lavender, creating a sensory tapestry that heightened the atmosphere.

the heavy curtains were drawn, swaying in the gentle breeze from an open window, allowing a filtered moonlight to cascade into the room, creating a soft interplay of light and darkness.

candles were strategically placed on various surfaces, flickering with a mesmerizing rhythm, casting enchanting patterns across the walls, rose petals scattered on the bed and the loveseat in bedroom.

steve carried you into the room, awestruck at how you had set up the room for his arrival.

"you did this baby? for me?" he asked, eyes softening. "all for you my love" you assured, smiling softly at him. "all of this and all of me is for you" you whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest.

you felt him shudder softly against you, and the sudden pick up in his pace as he dropped you gently against the bed.

"i adore you" he murmured, pressing kisses all the way from your head to your forehead, trailing down your face, from the curve of your nose to your plump cheeks, pressing delicate kisses to the soft skin, before ultimately stopping at your lips.

he pressed his pink lips to yours, lips moulding into one as he let his body hover over yours. his tongue darted out to lick your lip, begging for entry and when he squeezed your hip and you let out a moan, he slid his tongue into your mouth, tongue clashing against yours, teeth stopping to sink into your lower lip, pulling it back to watch it snap back into place.

you kiss down his jaw, reveling in the soft sighing that he floods your ear when you near his throat. he groans when your mouth latches onto that sweet spot by his shoulder, your hot tongue sliding against his neck, with your chapstick tasting of shea butter and cherry, fingers dancing across the hem of his suit like a tease. his arms slide down to your top, the silky material scrunching up as he pulls it up, marvelling at the skin below.

"touch me" you whisper against his mouth with swollen lips and nudging noses. he sighs at the phrase, sea blue eyes never once leaving the comfort of yours. "touch me, use me, use me to get rid of your stress" you whisper, rocking your hips slowly against his.

you could feel his hard on against you, and you gently rolled your hips against his.

you were sure it got hard, this facade of being perfect all the time. so maybe just this once he needed to let go. let go of the gentleman person and fuck you raw till he was calmed down and satiated.

your shirt rides up even higher as steve drags a rough palm over your ribs, his rough hands have you jittering. his head rests on your stomach, lips pecking the area around your belly button and down your hip bone until you’re rotating your hips around him. "you're absolutely unbelievable" he groans as he gently licks around your sensitive belly button. he groans in pleasure when you tug on his hair, smiling when you say, "i dont know how lucky I got with you" he murmured.

"touch me. just touch me like you won’t ever stop" you whimper out, and steve studied the want in your glassy eyes and nodded softly, stroking his finger on either side of your cheek. the intimacy of the moment is jarring against how desperately the both of you want each other. but it's sensual and sweet because its a long buildup his finally being at peace.

agonizingly slow, his fingers dip down the waistband of your panties, cotton rubbing against the back of his hand as he curls his fingertips towards your pussy. the gentle notion makes your breath hitch, especially when he spreads your folds apart to expose the hood of your clit.

his middle finger circles draw leisurely over the sensitive nub with slow, rough circles and your thighs twitched.

his voice hitches in his throat as he observes your reaction. "oh, doll, you’re — oh, you’re just dripping, aren’t you?" he groans as you guide his hand further, the pads of his fingers dragging your arousal against your wet entrance. "my gorgeous, gorgeous girl" he whispered, pressing a sugar sweet kiss to your jaw.

"I'll always love you no matter what" you moan, scratching at his shoulders shamelessly, rocking on the heel of his hand for more friction. your eagerness spurs him on and so he increases the pressure, skimming his fingers over your folds and pressing ever-so-tantalizingly near your hole before he returns back to your clit. "fucking tease" you whine and he smirks.

your steve is usually demure even in bed, ever the perfect gentleman, gentle with you as if you'd snap into two if he was too harsh with you.

but this steve was daring and experimenting with his rough side.

your next sentence died in your throat, a soft gasp leaving your lips when he pushed his finger inside you, slow and deep enough to rip a whine right out of your throat from the stretchs.

he inhales loudly, eyes fixating on your mouth when you hopelessly sigh against his neck. you shift your knee higher up his leg, giving him more access to finger you. he hums at your expressions, mirroring them when you suckle dark marks just beneath his sharp jawline.

he mouths at your shoulder, leaving glistening patches of saliva in the wake of his sloppy kisses. you rock against the heel of his palm, mewling as he drags his fingers against your walls and he muffles his own moans against your skin.

"you’re so perfect" he groans, fucking his fingers in and out of you. the noises that leave your pussy and his throat are sinful, sounding like the harmonious mixture of splashing waves and delicate moans, his hand cupping your mound while he fingered you impatiently.

"fuck, Y/N. you’re making quite the mess, aren’t you, my angel? god, your moans are so fucking sweet to listen to"

"steve, your fingers..." you watch his wrist snap against you, juices squelching around him. you nearly sob, waterline beginning to water as the pleasure intensifies, "you get me so wet" you whimper and you hear the groan he tries to suppress at the juxtaposition of your angelic voice and face and the filthy words coming out of your pretty mouth.

"that’s good. I love pleasing you, you know that?" he asks as you clamp down onto the crook of his neck, teeth stifling your wrecked moans as he curls his middle and ring finger against that spongy spot inside you.

his touch is generous, and accompanied by his weathered hands, you can feel your orgasm approaching soon. he fucks you faster, thumb rubbing at your clit hard.

while others would resort to their own personal pleasure to de stress, it's your pleasure that brings steve relaxation. the fact that he could draw earth shattering orgasms from you was what helped him feel good and he knew that it was only when you were completely satisfied that he would be too.

you cry out into his chest, bite marks littering his skin as you hold him tight and gracelessly grind against him until you lose control over your climax.

your body shakes from your orgasm, gradually and slowly, steve's fingers scissoring carefully in and out of you.

your pussy pulses needily between your thighs, toes curling as you focus your attention on steve undressing. his suit comes off, discarded somewhere in some corner, his under clothes come off, and then finally, he drags his gray boxers down his legs, and his cock stands proudly, slapping against his stomach as he releases it from it's prison.

you moan as you take in the sight of his thick cock, long and girthy and big enough to leave you breathless as it always did. steve after all was a supersoldier, and his cock was to match. he also had incredible stamina and you knew he'd leave you exhausted.

he nears you again, heavy against you and you reach down to stroke him, smiling up at him, realising your hand doesnt fit all of him into your palm. his cock twitches again when you moan, a throb settling at the base of his spine with an uintelligible moan.

"stevie, baby, i want nothing more-" you strain, reaching behind your own hips to take ahold of his cock and line the weeping tip up perfectly "than for you to fuck me. i want you to fuck your pain and your distress away" you say, and his eyes darken with lust, the baby blues fading to black, like a dark and thunderous sky.

his dick catches against your clit first, causing your body to jolt in shock before you sweep him through your dripping folds. he grabs ahold of your hips, seemingly spellbound as to where else to hold you. his eyes flicker all across your bare skin, unable to settle on the best spot.

his teeth reach down to grab your nipple in between them, one hand reaching up to fondle the other. his tongue darts around the perk nipple, sliding all around it, saliva dripping all around it. your hips rut wildly at the pleasure on your sensitive nipples, and the feeling of the rough pads of his fingers toying with the other.

a chorus of gasps sounds between the two of you as you slowly roll down onto his dick, harmonizing almost like a symphony. he stretches you deliciously, and he's big. very big. perfectly filling. It’s akin to losing all sense of direction, unsure of up from down, left from right. your hips stutter and still from the shock because through your haze you feel steve thrust upward and into you to bridge the gap and you whine as he brushed a sensitive spot within you.

a high pitched wine of "oh fuck!* leaves your lips, and a deep groan echoes in steve's chest.

you groan, finally feeling him sink all the way into your pussy, already shaking from the overwhelming pleasure. before you can comprehend, hes bottoming out in your slick pussy.

rising back over the curve in his cock, you lift yourself back up until only his tip is pressed up against your pussy. you pause before you sink back down. you see the almost animalistic need in steve's eyes as he gazes up at you through his lashes, eyes following the clenching of his jaw.

the wet sound of your pussy being filled over and over echoes, the air that had held a chill seemingly warming at your shared activity. you can barely hear his groans, your heartbeat thrumming so loud in your ears that you’re convinced he can probably feel it thudding in your walls.

your eyebrows arch in bliss as the ridge of his head catches up against something so incredible that you’re drowning in pleasure, a light that must surely be heaven flooding your eyesight.

but it's not heaven no, it's a sight far better : your husband, mouth agape and head thrown back fucking into you like your life depended on it.

what you didn't expect was the harsh smack to your ass, his big hand smacking the sensitive skin of your ass and you let out an "oh!" skin stinging and pussy dripping, before the longing for more fills you.

"you like that, my pretty girl?" he asks, pinching the fat of your hips.

you merely moan in response, mind melting at the pleasure. a second smack to the ass follows, and a large vein-y hand grips your throat and forces you to look at him.

"words doll, words" he chides, and you stutter out a shaky "yes" your movements are stuttering at the way a familiar simmering feeling begins deep inside your abdomen, but steve doesn’t want you to stop. his hands take a firm grip of your hips, forcing them down as he begins to thrust up and into you in that same desperate pace.

he continued to brush against that part of you that just obliterated any coherent thought, your mind melting into sludge as pleasure overtook every nerve in your body.

his hands traced over your ass, still hovering between the edge of good boy steve and bad boy steve, but all it took for him to slip was your whimper of "spank me harder daddy" and he was gone.

your sweet gentle steve was replaced by an animal, hands delivering harsh smack after smack to the sensitive skin of your ass, feeling it burn red hot as his large lands landed on your ass with a harsh unoact.

the filthy sound of his hand slapping the jiggly surface of your ass and the sloppy, wet sound of his dick pounding into your pussy echoed around the room, and you had never been more glad for the fact that your floor was completely soundproofed.

you’re not exactly sure what part of his body you’re holding onto, the muscles canvas all melting into one, so far away from comprehension, but you know you’re holding it in a bruising grip, one that leaves a perfect impression of each of your fingertips that would most definitely remain imprinted on his skin.

sweat beaded and dripped down his forehead, as he continued thrusting and pounding into you as if his life depended on it.

your mewls and whimpers perfectly complimented his grunts and groans as his hips snapped further into yours.

your back arched off of the bed as he let your leg rest on his shoulder, pushing the other one away from you so you were perfectly spread out, pushing one leg far away enough so that it was almost touching your ear

the smirk on his lips told you that it was gonna be a long night and that steve wasn't done with you just yet. he grabbed your face, fingers lacking their usual gentility, digging into your cheekbones, before pushing your face sideways into the silky pillow, making you close your eyes at the contrasting sensation of your hot cheeks against the cold pillow, the feelings setting your body on fire.

the sensation of you digging your nails into his back, had his hips falterring and stuttering slightly as he let out another lke growl into his ear, as he allowed himself a moment to bask in the burn of the sting before regaining his pace and thrusting back "you're so, so fucking good, just squeezing me so well hmm?" he growled, grunting as your pussy squeezed him harder and your eyes shut.

you only raked your nails down harder, although your moans were slightly muffled, and the desperate whines leaving your lips fuelled, him, as he continued snapping his hips into you, nails digging into your thigh, the pleasurable sting sending you spiraling. you could feel ths tight muscles rippling in his back, and you scratched down the bare expanse of his back, knowing it always drove him crazy.

the red hot pleasure in the pit of your stomach began to tighten, making you pant. he started guiding his cock deeper into you, which you didn't think was possible, and placed your hand in the outline of his cock in your tummy, and the filthy sound of your wetness and the sounds of your skin slapping together echoed across the hotel room.

the bed began to knock against the wall, the thumping sounding sweeter than the sweetest symphony you had ever heard.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head once again, mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure. for a second, you thought you had floated into another dimension, a low hum filling your ears, and your body convulsing in pleasure.

you heard steve moan your name, before letting out a low grunt, feeling him release his chokehold on your throat and hips, watching as you squirted all over him.

your cum splattered him all over, and your vision almost went black from how hard you had just squirted on him.

he reached out to collect your cum on his fingers, licking it, moaning at your sweet taste. the sight had you blushing.

you thought you were done, but just as you began to come to terms with the force of your orgasm, you felt his thumb on your clit, making you jerk your hips away, shaking your head. "daddy please, no more, i can't, not anymore" you whined out, feeling your pussy throb.

"yes you can, one more my doll, just give me one more" he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again harshly, in a rough, dirty, demanding kiss.

you could feel his hips stuttering, his cock beginning to pulse inside you, his thrusts becoming sloppy, signalling he was close to his own orgasm.

you moaned into his mouth, taking the opportunity to suck his tongue. "come on captain, cum for me, wont you? you work so hard and I'm so fucking proud of all your hard work" you whispered into his ears, licking at the shell of his ear

at your words, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his tongue poking out to lick patterns on the skin there, and you could hear his low, soft grunts as he chased his release, making the veins in his neck pop.

you could see his body glistening in the layer of sweat that had covered him, he continued to thrust into you for a second or two more, before a deep groan left his swollen lips, and an even deeper moan of your name echoed in your ear, as he spurted his cum into your warm pussy with a groan, your pussy clamping down on him like a vice, milking his cock

your body shuddered at the warm liquid dripping into you in hot spurts, covering your pussy in his cum, moaning in pleasure as the warmth of his release spread through you, enveloping you in a warm daze. panting softly, he stayed enveloped in your warm walls.

the both of you cuddled into the silk sheets, the aur conditioning doing little to cook your overhead bodies. steve pressed tender kisses to your face and body, whispers of "my beautiful girl, my angel, my doll, i adore you" leaving his lips like a mantra.

his hands, now no longer rough with want, traced soft patterns on your flushed skin.

"was that too rough for you?" he asked, concern etched in his eyes and worry lines appearing on his face.

"not at all" you said, quickly quelling his fears.

"you should do that again" you smirked, giggling when he blushed red. "thank you for that my love" he said, raising your knuckles to his lips to press a soft kiss to them.

"you don't have to thank me, steve. I'm always here for you no matter what" you murmured.

you were slowly sinking into a daze, but you registered him pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and heading to the bathroom

"I'll be back in just a second honey, I'm just getting some towels to clean us up" he explained, grinning at the pout adorning your bruised lips.

sure enough he came back, with cold towels to wipe you up with and a fresh set of pyjamas (his shirt and your shorts) to slip into, gently tugging you into the clothes and cleaning up the sticky mess on your thighs and cleaning you up.

he brushed the stray strands of your hair away from your face, pressing a soft kiss to your nose then your forehead, and then your lips.

he fed you a glass of cold water, and a piece of chocolate for a little bit of energy in the morning. cleaning himself up, he slipped into bed with you, his large arms wrapping you up, his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as you snored softly beside him.

in the warmth of your embrace, he felt an unspoken reassurance. as he held you close, the rhythmic beating of your heart echoed a comforting melody

in that tender moment, he realized that in your arms, he was not just physically close, but emotionally anchored. the world outside ceased to matter as he embraced the profound sense of safety and love that enveloped the both of you, creating a sanctuary where worries melted away, leaving only the simple joy of being together.

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jasmineandcedar · 17 days ago

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An out-of-body experience | Pathetically obsessed 2

An Elriel one shot (Azriel’s POV)

Because I think we all need some fun in times like these, and because Elain has both me and Azriel wrapped around her finger.

Here’s a slightly obsessed Azriel who finds himself with Elain straddling him when she decides to take matters into her own hands.

Warning: sexual content (not explicit)

I was thinking about how everyone is so preoccupied with the Cauldron and the mating bond and its implications. But then there’s Elain, who just doesn’t seem all that bothered with the mating bond at all, and whatever expectations it comes with. Not even indulging in the idea. She just wants who she wants. That’s where this idea started. And then it spiralled.

------

Azriel had never been one to giggle. Yet here he was, stumbling backwards into one of the empty rooms at the House of Wind, tangled up in Elain Archeron, with her nimble hands all over him—and he was giggling. Normally, he was all shadows, brooding frowns, and icy composure. Right now? Azriel was all giggles, smiles, and hands on soft skin.

Elain shoved him onto a sofa and straddled him. Azriel barely had time to adjust his wings before he was pushed against the back of the sofa and Elain’s hands were all over him again. Her soft laughter bubbled up in small bursts that filled his ears. Then her lips were on his neck and—Cauldron boil him alive—was that her tongue gliding up his throat? Azriel’s head fell back on the plush backrest, his breathing ragged.

As he lay there staring up at the ceiling, mind foggy, feeling Elain’s hands roaming all over him and her tongue on his neck, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was one of those out-of-body experiences people had when they were on the brink of death.

Because—Mother save him—Elain Archeron was straddling him.

That thought alone ripped him back to reality and his head jolted upright. Not even five hundred years of self-loathing could stop his hands from exploring every curve of Elain’s body in return, not with how she was straddling him with such eagerness. The problem was that there was simply too much fabric in between them

“Easy there, Spymaster,” Elain’s bright voice chirped. Her brown eyes glittered with excitement, her cheeks were flushed a rosy pink, and her usually impeccable golden-brown hair was disheveled. The sweetness of it all felt like confetti bursting in Azriel’s ribcage.

"Don’t get too carried away,” she murmured against his neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

Those nimble fingers of Elain’s were definitely getting carried away all over Azriel’s fully clothed upper body. She positively dragged them over his fully clothed chest and rocked her hips against his fully clothed lap. Azriel had never felt so betrayed by his own wardrobe. From the deepest abyss of his melting heart, Azriel thoroughly regretted getting dressed in the morning.

“We’re not alone in this house,” Elain whispered, her eyes wide as if confessing to misbehaving in a holy place. The thought of Elain misbehaving sent a ripple of heat through Azriel’s body, enough to make his pants feel impossibly tight.

When Elain shifted her weight back onto those suddenly all-too-tight pants of his, Azriel let out a strangled moan. She tilted her head to the side, a wicked grin playing at her lips as her gaze sinuously traced down his body in tandem with one of her index fingers. “Doesn’t mean I can’t give you some… relief,” she murmured, and the honeyed promise in her voice had Azriel’s head spinning.

Then, Elain’s eyes snapped back to his and she held his gaze with such intensity that she looked as if she were about to devour him whole.

Azriel swallowed hard.

Without a word, she took Azriel’s hands and pressed them firmly to her waist. He could do nothing but oblige when she looked at him like that.

“Hold tight,” she said, those ravenous doe-eyes dark with desire. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in close to whisper, “and don’t make a sound”.

She rolled her hips against him in one excruciatingly slow, calculated move and the friction of it all had Azriel make sounds he didn’t know he had in him. Chest heaving, his head once again fell back against the backrest in surrender. It was simply an impossible feat to not make a sound under such precarious predicaments as these. Elain seemed to have him beat for torturing.

This was definitely one of those out-of-body experiences people had on the brink of death.

Because—Mother put him on life support—Elain Archeron was straddling him and promising him relief.

Then the scent of their combined arousal hit him, and it was about as subtle as a brick to the face.

“What if we get caught?” Azriel mumbled, his voice strained, tilting his delirious head back up as if this might really be his dying breath. Would these be the last words of the fearsome Spymaster of the Night Court? What if we get caught? He would go down in history as the most pathetic spymaster in Prythian, with such a lamentable parting line.

But the Spymaster of the Night Court didn’t give a damn—because Elain Archeron was straddling him.

Was he losing consciousness? Or did all that precious oxygen simply go straight to that now-painful bulge in his traitorous pants? Truth be told, that wingspan really wasn’t all it was cracked up to be in trying times like these—not when Elain Archeron had him on the brink of death by straddling.

Azriel tried to remember how to breathe. He really should have paid more attention when Nesta tried to teach him those Valkyrie breathing techniques. What was it again? I am the surf against which the rock crashes. No, no… I am the crash against which the rock surfs.

That definitely wasn’t it.

I am rock-hard, and I am about to crash, he thought as his breath caught in his chest with another roll of Elain’s hips.

Then, Elain seemed to be pondering Azriel’s lamentable last words for a moment, her brows furrowing slightly. Her index finger resumed its deliberate descent down his torso, stopping just below the waistband of his pants. As her fingers slipped beneath it, Azriel simply gave up, closing his eyes and attempting to focus on inhaling and exhaling in the right order.

“If anyone comes in here, simply wrap your arms around me and say you were just comforting me because I saw something mildly startling, since everyone thinks I’m so fragile anyway,” she said at last.

There was nothing even remotely fragile about the way she was currently grinding against him and practically ripping at his shirt with both hands.

“It’ll just look like you’re hugging me,” she finished cheerfully, punctuating the idea with another roll of her hips, sounding thoroughly pleased with herself.

Azriel was about to be thoroughly pleased himself, too, if she kept moving her hips like that.

He came to his senses, considering Elain’s strategy. He thought to himself that there weren’t a single being in all of Prythian—alive or dead or on the brink of it—that would buy that excuse. Fae didn’t straddle fae for a little comfort. And they certainly didn’t straddle fearsome spymasters for comfort. But she looked so adorable as she plotted, and so determined to get that shirt off of him, that he simply couldn’t bring himself to stop her.

“Now relax and let me make you feel good,” Elain purred, her voice so downright sultry that Azriel’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head. “No one will find us.”

Azriel was absolutely out of his body at this point.

Because—Mother above, he was six feet under—Elain Archeron was straddling him, whispering sultry promises in his ears and trying to rip his shirt off.

Azriel shook his head hastily, trying to pull himself back to reality. He was a warrior. He might also be rock-hard and about to crash, but he was a warrior. He had nearly died countless times, and he would be damned if this was the moment he bit the dust.

So, with a smirk, he pulled himself together, flexing his hips to meet the roll of hers. He brushed his lips along Elain’s jawline, drawing a shiver out of her.

“Is that so, love?” he murmured, his voice sinfully low. His hands skimmed up her curves, thumbs grazing the rosy fabric of her dress just below her breasts.

“I promise,” she pleaded, slipping her fingers under his shirt and tracing the ridges of his abdomen, which he rewarded with a husky moan in her ear.

“And what if I want to get caught?” He nipped at her earlobe. Her soft gasp sent a jolt straight to his core, as if there were some direct line of communication between his cock and all those small sounds that he drew out of her.

“What if I want everyone to know I’m yours?” he rasped darkly against her neck as he cupped her ass and pulled her flush against him, earning him a delectable giggle in response. The exquisite press of her body against his had a low groan slipping from him, not entirely intentionally.

“And what if I want everyone to know you’re mine?” Elain crooned in that sultry voice that was surely about to send him to the afterlife.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Elain,” Azriel murmured, voice dark with intent. He thrust his hips up, locking his gaze with hers.

“You mean this?” She slid her hands over his shoulders and met his thrust with an equally determined roll of her hips. Their eyes met—ravenous hazel to ravenous brown—and a wicked grin spread across Azriel’s face.

“Keep pushing me and I might bend you over right here,” he warned hoarsely. He slid his hands under her dress to grip her bare thighs, his voice dropping to a sinister murmur, “and fuck you until you scream my name for the whole court to hear.”

Elain stilled.

So did Azriel.

Azriel knew there was mischief in his voice, but he also knew he couldn’t hide the glint of pain in his eyes. He spoke of games, but his words held no deceit. They were simply the naked truth dressed as heated words uttered in aroused delirium.

What if I want everyone to know I’m yours?

“What if you did … do those things,” Elain said after a long pause.

Bend her over?

Azriel blinked, raising his eyebrows. Normally, he had no problem reading Elain, but this was not at all what he had expected her to say. His mind had wandered into all the ethical and existential dilemmas of him not actually being hers and her not actually being his, and the particularities of who would possibly be fighting whom in a Blood Duel and how to avoid starting another war. Then there were the intricacies of whether the Cauldron had actually been wrong, and the delicate problem of how Azriel was going to deal with Rhys.

And meanwhile, Elain’s mind had wandered to… Azriel bending her over?

There was no pain in Elain’s eyes. Just pure, fierce desire. She still had that ravenous look in her eyes, that Azriel thought should have come with a warning label.

In that moment, Azriel realized that maybe, just maybe, none of the rest of it mattered. Fuck the damned Cauldron. He snorted internally at it. Twice, for good measure. What did a bloody kitchen utensil have to do with anything when there was beautiful, ravenous desire in Elain Archeron’s eyes—and they were looking at him?

She peered up at him through her lashes.

“What if I want you to bend me over right here and fuck me until I scream your name for the whole court to hear,” she whispered, so softly it was barely audible, her nimble fingers still clutching his shirt, her gaze dropping shyly to his chest.

Was she… pouting?

Azriel swallowed hard again.

She glanced up at him once more, doe-eyes somehow even bigger than before.

Yes—she was pouting.

“Then I would bend you over right here and fuck you until you scream my name for the whole court to hear,” Azriel heard himself say as if possessed, the words tumbling out of him in one breath.

Elain’s expression softened and she cupped his cheek with a gentle hand.

“I know you would, sweetheart.”

Bless the Mother for she had resurrected him.

------

This is part two of Pathetically obsessed.

Part 1: He had seen the light

Part 2: An out-of-body experience

There’s no chronological order to them, and they are standalone (one shots), but they are written in the same style and on the same theme.

#elriel #elriel drabble #elriel fanfic

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jolalibrary · 1 year ago

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the angel + the devil

javier peña x f!reader | halloween fic for late night texts

summary: “You may be dressed like that,” he says, dropping his voice “But I know how dirty your halo is.”

chapter warnings: bonus chapter to late night texts, although you can still enjoy without reading. fluff. halloween costumes. reader does wear a dress and heels. javi flirting. office party vibes. sexy talk, alluding to smut, but no actual smut or anything (similar to most of the chapters in the series) romcom vibes ofc ✨ wordcount: 2.4k

an: i still cant believe how beloved this little series is. i hope you like this little hallow-shot of my fave pairing.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Don’t forget tonight is my works halloween party, if you’re still coming.

i haven’t forgotten baby

You say that but you forgot to bring milk the other day.

you told me you was wearing my shirt, naked

Thought high-pressured situations were your bag.

well you do always know the way to bring me to my knees

Pocketing his wallet and keys, Javi stares up at your work building.

He’s picked you up from work plenty of times, but he’s never been inside. Not like this, anyway.

Over breakfast, dinners and more since the two of you have been dating—and then living together—he’s managed to collect snippets of information.

Been able to make collages from the pieces you hand him—a picture board with ribbons and string connecting things, concocting an image of what things must look like. From the place the copier is to what your desk looks like.

Tonight, he’ll get to see it himself. He’ll have the chance to see the photo strip from Houston there, a little cactus plant you’d named Randy and a set of trays (all filled with paperwork) that he’d helped you find in town.

The rest though, was blank. All fuzzy in his mind.

A puzzle, one needing to be solved.

It’s why his finger and thumb brush against themselves as he steps through the doors, the instructions you’d given him illuminated on his phone. It’s easy enough, especially with the decorations up the stairs, hearing himself being called to by the distinct sound of the Monster Mash that is floating to his ears, guiding him to you.

Maybe, he should have texted to say he was here.

You’d be waiting for him then. Likely hovering at the doorway, looking somewhat lost and nervous—it brings back memories of scribbled-out signs and bubbling apprehension at the airport.

But, if anything, that’s why he doesn't text—doesn’t announce or tell you he’s parked up and climbing the staircase two at a time to see you.

Because Javi wants to see you, capture a sight of you across the room, and give you another romantic moment to add to the ones that make the both of you so “movie-like”.

Except, as soon as he steps through the last doorway, and his eyes land on you, he realises the moment isn’t for you, but rather for him.

His stomach flutters, fingers halting in their previous nervousness, stretching out as his head tilts. He takes you in—trails his eyes from the heel of your white shoes to the nervous finger-tapping you’re doing on the red cup, before he reaches your face—flecks of glitter, painted lips.

And fuck are you pretty.

You’re more than an angel. You’re something else entirely.

Ethereal, captivating, irresistible.

The mere sight of you making his throat dry and his heart quicken all over again, just like it had done outside that airport. Just like you had done from the first text to the see you later you left him with this morning.

He pinches his thigh, just lightly—because again, he’s left with the thought, the realisation: you chose him.

A reminder that is forever there. One he normally buries in gratitude against your lips, or clutches your hand—

You tiring from an ex-DEA agent yet, cariño?

Not even a little bit, handsome.

You’d chosen him because of text messages, fallen for him because of phone calls, and fell further in a hotel room miles away. Him doing the same, re-falling each day all over again due to moments he never thought he’d get to enjoy.

Simple things, like you sewing a jacket on his Pop’s coat to the way you listened when he finally told you everything that happened in Colombia. Your face not shifting, not until the end, not until you ended up in his lap telling him how proud you were of him.

Something he believed.

Somehow, though, a small part of him still expects this to be a dream. A cruel joke from life, because you’re way too good to be true. You’re nothing but kind, generous. Doing everything to remind him continuously how much he deserves you. That he’s good, worthy, amazing.

He’s about to clear his throat, announce his arrival, when your laugh dies at something one of your colleagues says. Then, he watches in slowed time how your eyes sweep—a thing he suspects you’ve been doing since way before he arrived—before landing right on him.

It forces his heart to skip.

A smile, different than the one you’d given to your colleague, spreads and flowers across your face—the fairy and ceiling lights not holding a candle to the way it brightens up the room.

He finds himself mirroring it, letting it unfold, grow, spread, sliding up into his cheeks as he watches you excuse yourself, placing your cup down on a desk before you rush over to him.

“Hey, handsome.”

“Look at you, angel.”

His fingers slide across his jaw, half-tempted to ask you to twirl—witness how the white dress skims your knees, trailing his eyes up and down, drinking you in all over again.

If you mind, you say nothing, although he imagines your cheeks will be warm if he touches them. Your eyes dropping, fingers moving, sliding to adjust the straps of your feathered wings, before touching up the headband with your halo attached—the one he’d watched you glue the other night, tongue out, teeth perched near the tip.

“I’m glad you came.”

“You asked, cariño. Por supuesto que vendría por ti.”

Shrugging, you smile, shifting on your feet. “I know, but you still came, dressed as… wait—what are you dressed as?”

Putting his palms up at the side of him, he grins. His head dips, eyes following your path over his dark jeans and red shirt, as his fingers slide to his back pocket—pulling out a headband with little horns on, placing it on top of his head.

“A devil.”

“Of course,” you say, sliding your arms around his neck. “Very fitting.”

Smirking, he traces his teeth with his tongue, letting you stare at him in the same way he had been you, until you move closer, sliding your arms around his neck. Basking in the way you kiss him, so softly—almost innocently—but with a hidden agenda underneath you can’t display too much of in the centre of your workplace.

But, he still feels the tip of your tongue sweep over his bottom lip—even if to others it’s just a chaste kiss. He knows that in the back of your throat, there had been a little hum growing—the one he pulls from you when he greets you at home, when the decision to eat or “nap” first arises.

“You may be dressed like that,” he whispers, dropping his voice, mouth to your ear as he hugs you. “But I know how dirty your halo is.”

Stepping back, he watches as his words force your lips to part. You battle a smirk, toying with it, chewing it, before displaying an eye roll.

Then, Javi feels you slide your hand into his, bodies so close to being flush, your breath doing a dance over his jaw and neck.

“I think we can make it dirtier. Can’t we?”

Pausing, he tilts his head, brow arching—watching you just smirk, far more devilish than angelic.

And, Javi suddenly wishes his jeans weren’t as tight as they are.

where have you gone, one of your colleagues is eyeing me up

Well, maybe you should try being less good looking.

funny

I’ll be one second, got caught coming out the bathroom by someone from finance.

do you need rescuing

You gonna throw me over your shoulder?

if i do that i’ll be carrying you home

This is why you’re the devil and I’m the angel, my thoughts are pure.

if I put my fingers between your thighs i bet your body says otherwise

Javi!

Handing him a cup, you tap yours against his, shooting a wink.

He doesn’t miss the way you eye him—not at all in a way different to the one he’d been getting from your colleague earlier.

“¿Te estás divirtiendo?"

Sliding closer to him, you press a kiss on his cheek. Angling yourself, the front of your dress moving, shifting, forcing his eyes to drop to where some of the glitter has fallen across your collarbone and cleavage.

“Such a bad girl.”

Smirking, you take a sip. “Angels don’t just fall from heaven for anything, or anyone, Javi.”

There’s a retort brewing—readying on the tip of his tongue—but someone approaches. A snort escapes you before they call your name.

He’d met so many of the people he’s heard things about—having been able to stitch faces to names, to hear their actual voice, and not the one you adopt when you’re telling him stories about your day. But this person's name doesn’t come to him with ease, nodding, agreeing it was lovely to meet them too.

Javi listens to you wish them a good weekend, hugging them, your wings brushing against his side as you do.

Then, the two of you are alone once again.

The whole night, between speaking to people, the two of you have traded in whispered angel and devil jokes—deviousness coming to him with ease, your eyes sparkling, somewhat twinkling as you hear each of them. Sometimes, your retorts silence him, rendering him useless—forcing you to slide more in front of him, his fingers digging into your hip.

Fuck, he wants you on his lap now.

More so, as the punch thins out and the party dwindles—some excusing themselves for home, for better offers or fraternisation with other departments—and the two of you are left him to a corner.

We can go soon. If you want?

Your eyes meet his, hands stroking up and down his arm—soothing, calming, genuinely wanting him to choose.

We can go whenever you want.

The two of you standing, his hip flush with yours, the scent of your perfume doing a swirl in his nose, watching as you smirk against your cup.

It’s hard not to feel that familiar surge inside him as he watches your lips. Because he never tires of you, is never bored of just admiring and observing.

“What you thinking about, cariño?”

The look you shoot him is one of pretend innocence. He can tell. He’s become an expert in you—both in the subtle shifts in your expressions and the way your body talks to him.

“Just thinking, that if I’d thought about it more, you could have come as a pencil and I could be your crossword,” you smile. “Y’could have spent the evening filling me in then.”

He’s mid-drinking when it hits him, making him choke, and splutter.

Your smirk rises as you bring the cup to your lips. “Two can play that game, Peña.”

“Touché, baby.”

For a moment, he lets you be smug.

Let it grace across your features, teeth peering out, eyes twinkling under the unflattering fluorescent light—that you still manage to look stunning under.

“Or, I could have come as a vampire,” you continue, eyes averting, a smirk desperate to grow, “I am really good at sucking.”

He almost crunches the cup, his head tilting, eyes burning into you as his brain fills with thoughts—ones that almost ravage him. Smother over the purer ones he keeps forcing himself to manifest, innocent things he’s yanked up so he doesn’t get a hard-on in the middle of your work office party.

Because you’re dressed as a fucking angel.

“Did you want to see my desk, Javi?”

“Is it far?”

Shaking your head, you drain your cup, placing the empty in a nearby trash bin as you offer your hand. Leading, guiding him, pointing out little things that offer some clarification to stories he’s listened attentively to when the two of you have eaten.

“It’s just in here,” you announce, pointing to a closed door before the two of you enter.

As soon as the door clicks shut, his palm is against the wall—caging you in, his body close. Your laugh light, airy, brushing over his face as your fingers slide up his cheeks.

The two of you are flush, but not so harshly against the wall to crush your wings. He wants them intact, needs them to be there later.

“You like my costume, baby?”

He groans, tightening his grip on your waist. The light from the hallway splays across your face—illuminating your eyes as you stare up at him. Noticing the usual flecks of lust and need that swirl whenever the two of you are like this.

“You thinking innocent thoughts, cariño?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Your fingers tangling into his hair, his hips light in their efforts to press you against the wall. The air tightening, anticipation building, and building. It all layering, more so as his fingers drop, tracing under the hem of your dress.

His lips curl, the tip of his tongue dragging across his lower lip. “I like your office.”

“Bring back memories for you?”

Snorting, he grins. “No. I didn’t… I didn’t do that.”

“You want to?”

He considers it. More so when your lips slant back across his, when you whimper lightly when the kiss deepens.

Javi traces his finger over your thigh, half-tempted to slide it further up, skate it over whatever fabric you’ve chosen to wear between your thighs.

But he stops himself, halts.

Instead, he slides his fingers back under your chin, tilting it up. “Rather take you home. To our home.”

He watches as your smile curls up, lips pursing, eyes flicking down before meeting his. “Take me home then.”

Your fingers lightly flutter along his cheek, the top of your nails scraping gently against his skin, into the hair above his ears.

“Not to be a devils advocate, but we don’t have to wait until we get home, do he?”

Smirking, he lets a soft laugh exit under his breath.

“Seven letters,” you whisper, teasing his hair in your fingers, “Highest point.”

He kisses you. Pressing his smirk against your lips, feeling yours emerge as he does.

“You’re a real fallen angel, aren’t you?”

Snorting, you slant your mouth over his, likely wanting one more before the sea of goodbyes and see you in a week have to be said.

“Fallen straight into you, though. No regrets from me,” you add.

Pressing a kiss to your lips, Javi mumbles, “Not from me either.” Hands sliding around your waist, stealing another moment. “Need you to keep the halo on.”

Tilting your head, you pull from his lips. Breaths dancing, shared between the two of you.

“Wanna see how long it takes until I can fuck it off your head, cariño.”

Grinning, your tongue sweeps over your bottom lip. The slightest of head shakes. “Think you knocked the real one off my head ages ago—when you made me moan your name down the phone.”

an: if you have any ideas of what our pairing can get up to, let me know. i can't promise I'll always write them, but you never know.

#javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #mm: late night texts #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

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dira333 · 2 months ago

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Natsuo Todoroki x Reader, Multichapter, Masterlist, Angst to fluff, Timeskip,

Part 1

Children crying. A grown man swearing. The terrifying swirl of fire, much too close for comfort. Ice, cool, calm, safe.

You wake up disoriented and shaking, yet again.

The dreams are not always the same, but they always end the same.

Freezing, you pull your comforter tighter around yourself, focus on your breathing to calm down, and fall back asleep.

Just for a second, you allow yourself to dip into your roommate's dream, imagine your Quirk to be like a gentle hand, carding through her hair, catching just the frayed edges of whatever she’s dreaming.

Tonight, as most nights, she dreams of a blank night sky, the stars glittering like diamonds.

You fall asleep with a sigh.

“Oh my gosh, he’s here.” Yasuko grabs you by the shoulder, almost shaking you. “Tell me what you think, tell me!”

“Calm down,” you laugh, scanning the room. The bar is decently filled, but not crowded. Unlike other spots Yasuko likes to frequent, this bar has decent lighting, allowing you to see the newcomers.

“Blue hair, blond hair, or white hair?”

“White hair of course. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

You have to agree. He’s tall and well-built, his hair done the perfect kind of messy. You can’t tell from this distance, but he also seems to have a nice face.

“You’ve chosen well,” you joke, thinking of all the other guys she has had a crush on. “Are you going to talk to him at all?”

“Of course, of course. Here, have my drink. I’ll make him get me a new one.”

You’re left with two glasses as she moves through the crowd, her eyes on him and only him. There’s something to Yasuko, maybe her bird-like Quirk or the ease with which she seems to take everything from College to love, but she never fails to be the center of attention.

You watch, satisfied with your quiet little bubble at your quiet little table, as men and women turn to watch your roommate dance past, her light grey wings fluttering excitedly behind her.

If she’d be an animal, she’d be a turtledove.

“This is Natsuo!” Yasuko beams at you twenty minutes later, one arm linked through his, cheek pressed against his shoulder. He’s looking a little awkward, carrying his drink and hers as she curls into his side.

“Natsuo, this is my roommate. Say Hi!”

“Hi,” he greets you with a smile, his voice calm and collected. He’s a lot… sturdier… than Yasuko’s past lovers. Up close you can see something like burn scars cutting through the fair skin of his face, but he looks nice. Kind, even.

“Just so you know,” Yasuko looks up at him, fluttering her eyelashes, “she can see your dreams. So you better dream of something nice when you sleep over.”

It’s a test. You know it, Yasuko knows it and maybe Natsuo knows it too.

Some men falter at the bare mention of sleeping over. You’ve seen it all, the hectic flush, the sudden paleness. Sometimes the embarrassment about past dreams is so visible in their eyes you can’t help but feel sympathy for them.

But Natsuo doesn’t seem embarrassed. Shaken, yes, but not embarrassed.

“You can’t control your Quirk?” He asks, with a new roughness to his voice.

“N-no, yes, I mean, yes, I can control my Quirk,” you stammer, surprised by the question.

“Then why would you look at my Dreams?”

“Are you embarrassed?” Yasuko asks her voice light and teasing. It misses the mark completely. Natsuo doesn’t even look at her, his grey eyes locked on yours until you break away first.

“I can’t help it sometimes,” you admit, toying with your glass. “But you don’t have to worry. I’m dreaming my own dreams when I’m sleeping.”

That’s not entirely the truth, but it seems enough for now.

“Oh,” you swallow a mouthful of saliva. “There’s Monoma Naomi, from my English Class. I will see you guys later, okay? I promised I’d fill her in on what she missed last week.”

Another blatant lie, but no one stops you as you move, more than eager to get away.

Naomi’s all smiles as you reach her.

“Hey!” She hugs you. “What brings you over? Don’t tell me Yasuko caught a bore?”

“Worse,” you shudder. “I think he hates me. At least my Quirk. What’s going on with you?”

“Oh,” she smirks a devilish smile. “You don’t know yet but my adorable little brother has a crush and I…” She waves her phone through the air. “Have proof.”

Are you interested in Monoma Neito’s love life? Not really. Teenagers are teenagers after all. But it takes your mind off and that’s all you need at the moment.

“Up already?” You ask Yasuko in the morning when she emerges in her own clothes.

She frowns. “Nothing happened,” she pouts. “He took me home and kissed me on the cheek. Booooring!”

You laugh.

“I’d call that a good guy. He’s willing to wait.”

“I think he was scared of you,” she huffs instead, eyeing you. “You think he’s having some weird dreams?”

“It’s an invasion of privacy,” you give him the benefit of the doubt. “Not everyone’s cool with that.”

“No, I bet he has some weird dreams. Oh, can you make me breakfast too?”

“Sure,” you sigh, getting more eggs from the fridge. “You can eat this, I’ll make myself another plate.”

“You’re the best,” Yasuko squeals and you silently agree with her.

- - -

“Papa? When’s Touya coming home?”

You escape from the dream as one emerges from icy waters. Gasping for air, limbs stiff, your teeth chattering.

The thick fuzzy blanket you prepared out of foresight gives barely any warmth but you curl into it, hoping for a reprieve.

You stretch out your mind, looking for Yasuko, for the endless sky in her dreams.

Yasuko’s not home though.

Desperate, you stretch yourself a little further, a little thinner, making it just past the drywall separating your apartment from the next.

Morine-san’s dreams are like an old TV show, the smiles a little too stiff to be comfortable.

But you’ll take what you get tonight.

Yasuko finds you during lunch, her books stuffed haphazardly into a tote bag. The one on top belongs to you, you realize, bending down to get rid of the mess, saving your belongings from inevitable death by Mess.

“Hey,” Natsuo calls out above and you hit your head on the underside of the table, cursing when you manage to get out from under it.

He glances your way when you appear, but he doesn’t greet you, hands stuffed into his pockets as his focus shifts back to Yasuko.

“Hey!” She flutters her lashes at him, all beauty and grace and not “I didn’t sleep last night and am getting through College on three cups of coffee”.

“I wanted to ask if you have time tonight.” His left hand grips the strap of his bag before letting go again, probably a nervous habit. “We could go out for food? Do a picnic?”

“Oh, I love picnics!”

His eyes flicker back to you at Yasuko’s statement and, realizing that you’re staring, you focus on your food instead.

Curry with rice has never been that interesting to you before, but you manage to drown out most of their conversation as you shovel food into your mouth.

You only notice that Natsuo’s gone when Yasuko leans heavily into you, her mouth pulled into her signature pout.

“What?” You ask, a little annoyed that you even care.

“He asked if he could bring someone with him.”

“That’s weird?”

“Right?” She sniffles. “Am I not enough? Why do you need something else to focus on when we’re out? You’re coming with, right?”

“What?” You furrow your brows and push your plate away. “Why?”

“Because that way it’s like a double date. I mean the guy’s a bit younger than us, I think, I didn’t really listen to that part, but you can lead him away and let us have some fun, you know?”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you love me?” Hands clasped in front of her she’s now fluttering her eyelashes at you.

“That doesn’t work on me,” you point out, getting up. “Ask Naomi if you need someone for a double date. She’s single too.”

“But-”

“Besides,” you don’t know why you’re still talking about this, “Didn’t you spend the night with him? Maybe he wants you to meet his friends. To make it official.”

“Oh,” there’s something off to Yasuko’s voice now. “About last night…"

You groan. “Forget it, I don’t wanna know.”

“Are you coming?” Yasuko appears in your doorway. She’s dressed in all black and you raise your eyebrows at her.

“Cruel Intentions, 1999?” She does a little twirl. “Have you never seen a movie?”

“I have, just not the same as you. Where are you off to?”

“The picnic, duh. Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

“Because I told you to ask Naomi.”

Her lower lip pushes out in her signature pout. “But-”

“No.”

“Not no! I already told him you’d come with! Please?! I’ll do the dishes for the whole week.”

“You’re already supposed to do that per our roommate agreement.”

“I’ll pay the whole rent this month?”

You sigh. That’s a big deal.

“Fine,” you huff. “This once. Next time you take Naomi.”

“Yes, yes, absolutely. But only if the other guy is ugly, I don’t like when she steals my show. Now hush, you need to get dressed.”

“And what am I supposed to wear?” You point at her outfit. “Not all black too?”

“Oh!” Yasuko’s eyes light up. “You can be innocent Cecile! Do you have a Polo Shirt? No? Doesn’t matter, you can have one of mine.”

“Forget it,” you groan, pulling a sundress from your closet, ignoring both Yasuko’s cries and the fact that the stitching at the hem is slowly coming apart. “This is going to be good enough.”

Natsuo’s company looks oddly familiar.

He’s tall, probably 18 or 19 years old, his hair just as two-toned as his eyes.

The white and red strands are just as messy as Natsuo’s, the striking grey of his right eye the same as Natsuo’s while the bright turquoise of his left chills you to the bone, the skin around it an angry red.

They’re brothers. And you know him, though you can’t really place him right away.

“Oh my gosh!” Yasuko’s gasp attracts everyone’s attention. “You’re the Hero Shouto! I’ve seen some of your fights.”

He nods, though does not seem to care much about her excitement.

Natsuo, however, tenses at her outburst. His eyes catch yours and you look away, embarrassed that he’s caught you looking yet again.

“Hi,” you eventually introduce yourself to Shouto when Yasuko has finally moved on to Natsuo. “How old are you?”

He looks surprised. “18, why?”

You nod to yourself. “Just checking. You’re in U.A., right? I think I saw your performance at the Sports Festival last year.”

“Oh,” a soft red appears high on his cheekbones. “That fight.”

“Oh, I wasn’t-” You can’t help but laugh. “She really wiped the floor with you, didn’t she?”

Shouto nods, something like pride ghosting across his face. “Momo has grown a lot. I’m excited to fight against her again this year.”

“I bet. Do you know Monoma? Monoma Neito? He’s a friend’s little brother, I think he’s at the U.A. too.”

“Yes,” Shouto nods again, falling into an easy step alongside you as you follow the other two. “We’ve had some disagreements, but I’ve come to consider him a worthy ally.”

“High praise, I assume. So you’re a Third-Year then, right? Any plans for after school already? Do you wanna go to College like your big brother?”

Surprise washes over his face yet again. His eyes flicker forward to where Yasuko’s already pressed into Natsuo’s side, his stride long and even.

“I don’t think I will,” he admits freely then. “But it would be nice to be able to.”

“You can still do that later if you want,” you tell him. “My mother went back to get her degree after I was born.”

“She did? What does she do for work?”

You don’t regret coming out after all.

Shouto is easy company, his dry humor the perfect counterbalance to Yasuko’s exaggerated teasing.

He’s pretty too, and if you’d be in any way interested in dating someone this much younger than you, you’d have grasped the chance with both hands.

Besides, you doubt he’s interested in you. There’s something in the way he talks about a certain classmate that leaves you thinking he’s already set in his ways.

You turn at the soft chime, spotting an ice cream cart not far away.

When you turn back, you’re surprised to find both Shouto and Natsuo watching you, with Yasuko babbling about something right between them.

“I’ll-” You hesitate for a second, “I’ll grab myself a cone. Does anyone else want ice-cream too?”

“I’ll accompany you,” Shouto gets up just as Natsuo opens his mouth. You catch the angry glare he directs at his younger brother, but Shouto either does not notice it or he just does not care.

“No thank you,” Yasuko smiles sweetly. “But we could do a little walk around the pond while they’re snacking. What do you think, Natsu?”

Maybe you’re imagining it, but he seems to be flinching at the nickname.

“Yeah, sure.” He pulls her up. “I’ll leave our stuff here, okay?”

“Sure,” Shouto nods, ushering you toward the ice cream cart. “We’ll keep an eye on it.”

The other two are just out of earshot when he turns, leaning in to talk.

“What do you think of him?”

“Of Natsuo?” You ask, both surprised and mortified. “Why?”

“Because he’s dating your best friend.”

“Not- not best friend,” you clarify. “We’re just roommates.”

“Oh,” he seems surprised. “He said you’re best friends.”

“I don’t mind her,” you say and cringe at the choice of words. “That sounded mean. She reminds me a lot of my younger sisters. She’s not a bad person, just a little spoiled, I think.”

He nods, not breaking eye contact.

“And Natsuo?”

Your stomach churns. What do you say to that?

“He seems like a cool guy,” you finally offer, surprised to hear him laugh.

The look on your face just seems to fan the flames, leaving him chuckling all the way up to the ice cream cart.

“His Quirk is ice, you know,” he finally explains as you wait in line. “I thought you knew.”

“I know it’s yours, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Oh, because of our father?”

“What? No,” you shake your head. “I mean I don’t know. I mean,” you take a deep breath to clear your thoughts. “We’re four sisters and we all have different Quirks. My father is a mind-reader and my mother is an empath. I can read your dreams, Hisako can create Hallucinations, Kyoko can send out her thoughts and Hiroko’s got some alternation of my mother’s quirk. She can see emotions, intentions and thoughts.”

Shouto’s quiet for a minute after that, moving forward in line. When he finally opens his mouth to speak, it’s to order ice cream.

“That’s a pretty boring choice,” you tell him, pointing at his cone of vanilla ice cream. “Wanna try some of mine?”

“Please?” He seems more than eager to do so, pulling a face at the taste of your lemon sorbet. “That’s sour!”

“And sweet. Very refreshing.”

You hear the door click shut behind Yasuko around ten p.m.

Despite your claim of not wanting to know, you can’t help but be curious.

The date with Natsuo seemed to go well, he’d been attentive the whole time, even kissing her goodbye.

But she’d been pouty all evening, asking to borrow your hair straightener only to decide against using it at the last minute, leaving the bathroom counter cluttered.

If she’s dating two guys at the same time it’s none of your business, you tell yourself, slipping into bed with a cup of tea and your favorite book.

Still, you can’t help but feel bad for Natsuo.

“It’s not fair!” A voice cries out. It’s a child, maybe 8 years old. “It’s not fair!”

“Shhh!” A girl’s voice, soothing, though not much older. “I know.”

Your fingertips are blue when you wake up, the room chilly.

Despite the cold, you slip out of bed, force yourself to walk the short distance to the kitchen to boil water. You hold your hands above the kettle, feel the sting as the cold melts away.

Some things Shouto said are playing on repeat in your head.

Natsuo’s Quirk is ice, just like Shouto’s.

Whoever’s dreaming so loud you can hear it all the way over here, must have some connection to ice, to the cold.

But they seem so calm and unbothered. Well, at least Shouto does.

Natsuo getting defensive about the possibility of you reading his dreams doesn’t mean he’s deeply troubled on the inside.

As the warmth settles into your bones again, you reach out with your mind, imagining yourself to be something like a lightning rod for dreams, hoping you will catch the signal again.

The dream hits you with unexpected intensity, just like lighting would probably do.

You barely register that your body’s knocked to the ground as your head fills with pictures, sounds, the familiar pain of being burned.

“But I wanna play with Shouto!” A voice cries out, enraged and hurt, the pain thrumming inside your ribcage like a hummingbird on its revenge path.

“You know you’re not supposed to!” A deep voice rumbles, the syllables cracking like wood in a fireplace. “Why can’t you just listen for once?! You useless little-”

You’re fighting for air as the dream ends, sucking in breath after breath but coming up empty.

Your cramped kitchen is suddenly much too big for you as you grasp for something to hold onto, to ground yourself in reality.

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