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luveline · 1 year ago

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𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

remus’ touch after a long night prompts a tired confession (and a slew of clumsy kisses).

requested here. modern au. fem!reader, 3.6k.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

“I'm going to bed,” Sirius mumbles, scratching at his eyes as he gets up. “Don't let her sleep in her makeup. She'll get an eye infection.”

Your eyes are getting sore, but it's hardly Remus' responsibility to make sure you wash your face tonight, nor Sirius’ to remind you. “I'm a big girl.”

Sirius sends you a smile, ignoring your chiding. “Goodnight, my loves,” he says, waving you both away as he heads out of the living room and up the stairs.

“Notice how he didn't do his dishes?” Remus asks, shifting beside you.

He's sitting as he tends to, slouched in a way that can't be good for his back in the long run but is clearly comfortable short term. His chin is on his chest, his legs kicked out under the coffee table, which is decorated by the casualties of the night. Sirius’ dinner plate, Remus’ mug, James’ rarely used handheld console. He'd been playing a cutesy farming sim before he said goodnight an hour ago. Sirius stayed to mess with James’ crops and eat a late supper. You're surprised it took him as long as it did to admit defeat.

“What time is it?” you ask.

You're laying on the sofa with your socked feet tucked behind Remus’ back, of which he's yet to complain. His elbow brushes your shin as he brings up his arm. “Nearly one in the morning, now,” he reads from his watch. “Let's go to bed too, yeah?”

“I don't want to.” You turn your face into the pillow behind your neck.

“Me neither,” Remus says, dropping his hand on your knee.

You watch another twenty minutes of TV together failing to summon the energy to stand, but the want for a glass of water grows too big. Your head throbs as you get up, offering your hands to the pretzel that is your favourite housemate.

Remus turns off the TV and lights. You lock the front door. He carries the dirty dishes to the kitchen and you fill up two glasses of water to take with you. It's all so… regular. A routine you share nearly every night, only to climb into your two separate beds.

He ushers you out of the kitchen and down the hallway with his hand behind your shoulders, his touch a phantom as you ascend the stairs.

You're silent beside the creak of the old wood, too tired to speak. Remus is similarly quiet, though he does whisper, “Watch,” when you nearly kick the box of Halloween decorations waiting to be taken up into the attic.

You leave your water on the towel box in the alcove and dance around one another in the bathroom. Sirius’ toothbrush lays on the sink still wet, but otherwise there's no signs of him.

You're feeling very, very tired. You hadn't realised how bad it was until you're putting your toothbrush in your mouth, leant up against the window sill, a slot of cold air seeping in from the dark outside. Your eyes shutter closed. The scrubbing sound of Remus brushing his teeth is almost lulling.

He swills out his mouth and washes his brush. “Here,” he says gently. You open your eyes just enough to see him beckoning you forward. “Dove, your necklace.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You turn your back to him.

His fingers are damp and cool on your skin as he unclasps your necklace. He often takes it off for you. It's one of the things you'll miss when you guys aren't living together anymore, the slow meander to his bedroom, the wood of his door jam on your cheek as you lean against it and give him a hopeful smile. Sometimes he's awake, reading a novel on his side in bed or listening to music at his desk, other times he's sleeping. On those occasions you spend too long lingering, stolen seconds spent staring at the rise and fall of his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you say as he puts your necklace in the jewellery dish. It comes out missing vowels, lips stuck together as though honeyed.

You spit pathetically in the sink, rinse your brush, and consider sitting down. “I'm tired,” you whine, wiping your lips.

“I know,” Remus says, giving you a fond nudge. “Just wash your face and get on with it.”

“You first. I'm going to nap standing up for a bit.”

He puts as much of his hair behind his ears as he can and turns on the tap. This is just as familiar as brushing your teeth together. It's not quite as bad as watching James Perfect Skin Potter wash his face with bar soap, but you have to admit that Remus’ eight-nine pence face soap hurts your heart. He washes it off, pats his face dry, and takes the small bottle of bio oil out of the medicine cabinet to pipette onto his pinky finger. “Wash your face,” he says, smoothing the oil into his scars one by one.

You shake your head. “M'gonna do it in the morning.”

“That's why your eye was swollen a few weeks ago. You know yourself you won't.”

“I might,” you say, letting out a big breath as you rub your sore eyes even sorer, “I'm too tired.”

“Can you sit up, at least?”

“No.” Remus takes you by the shoulders and forces you to sit on the edge of the bath. “Aggressive?”

“Don't fall in,” he says, cupping your cheek briefly as if to make sure you've heard.

You are hearing him, seeing him, even feeling the immensity of his touch, but you're tired, and you know you can let yourself relax completely with him. You'd be the same with James or Sirius, though neither of them could have your head feeling so dizzyingly light from a single touch as Remus can. You probably wouldn't let them persuade you into this, either, tilting your head back to watch through blurry vision as Remus soaks a cotton round in your facial oil.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Was that a dracula impression?”

“I command you.”

You close your eyes. The queasy feeling of oil drags against your lids as Remus wipes them, loosening the stiff tubes of mascara that coat your lashes. It's not a short process because he's very, very gentle, holding your face delicately as though you're a flower in need of coddling, and him the sun. It's the only metaphor that would ever make sense for you and Remus; he's like the sun even if it goes against every statement he's ever made about himself, or anyone else has, for that matter. People think he's a moody, sarcastic boy, and he is, but he's also a vestibule of sweetness, softness, and warmth. The kind of heat you'd only ever feel kissing your skin under the summer sun. But more than that, he's the relief that follows when the clouds come out.

And his hands are all over you. Your head gets heavier by the minute, eased into dozing by his touch and quiet tones. “We're almost done. I'm gonna have to carry you to bed at this rate.”

“I'm going to miss this so much one day,” you say. It's easier to admit when you're not looking at him.

Remus turns on the tap. Hot water runs, you can tell by the sound as strange as it seems, and he wrings the dirtied cotton round before replacing it with a new one. He wets it, bringing it just that touch too hot to your cheeks to wipe you down. “What are you going to miss, dove?”

“Us. You. I'm going to miss you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, but one day I will be. James will finally have had enough of us and I'll,” —you swallow around nothing as a rivulet of water runs down your cheek, a cooling tear from the cotton round— “have to move out and we'll never see each other anymore.”

“Don't be silly, you're not going anywhere.”

“It's not about the going,” you murmur, peeling your eyes open tentatively as his dabbing follows down your cheek to your neck. “I miss you sometimes and we still live together. I can't imagine how much I'll miss you…”

Remus puts the cotton round aside. He takes your face into his hand, and suddenly his touch feels raw, nothing like it had moments ago. Because Remus would wash your makeup off for you any day of the week, but his looking at you like this, so unshielded and unabashed, is a rarity.

“You won't have to miss me. Even if we did move away from each other, I wouldn't let it be that far.”

“Friends move away all the time. We don't speak to half the people we knew at school.”

“I only really knew you and the boys,” he says. It isn't true but it is at the same time. Together, you'd been a happy lot, but your current housemates are the ones you'd known. “And see? We're still together.”

“But for how long?” you ask.

Remus brings his second hand, holding your face entirely. He covers your cheeks, index fingers sliding slowly under your ears. He's exceedingly gentle, and his eyes are soft. He holds you like you're made of glass, like you could break under a hint of pressure. Slowly, he tilts his head to the side as though he might lean in for a kiss. Maybe he doesn't know he's doing it, but Remus is a very purposeful soul. He'd do much worse to wind you up if you wanted him to.

You sober up. It's like he has caffeine in his palms.

“You want to go where I'm going, is that it?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” you say, barely say, voice shame-facedly weak. Is he asking what you think he is?

“Do you want to start now?”

You breathe out as one of his hands shifts down your jaw. “Yeah, I… I want to start now.”

“Okay, dove. Then close your eyes again.”

You hold his gaze for a second that feels infinitely long and short at once, your heart racing. Clarity has returned, a thrust into wakefulness even if your fatigue ties knots around your ankles. You look at him in his late night glory, his scars shining a pink-white like the petals of a young peony flower, and you know it's happening now.

You shut your eyes.

He steps closer, though the bath you're perched on is low, and he has to bend a considerable amount to reach you. The weight of his hands on you doesn't change, not even as he grows near enough to sense the heat of his breath against your lips. It's his nose that makes first contact as it slides against yours, and then his forehead presses down into you, his lips noticeably absent. Each contiguity between you thrums.

A pit opens in your chest, cleaved by his voice as he says, “I'm going to kiss you, okay? S'that what you want?”

Your hands don't feel like your own. Under the sickening nervousness twining its way through your ribs, you're excited. You're smiling, your voice shaped by it. “Yeah. It's what I want,” you say.

“Good. It's what I've wanted for a while–” while pressed into your lips, all shaken up by an emotion you've never heard him speak with. He kisses you and you're frozen, and he waits and waits and pulls away to push back in. You remember yourself then, responding to his wading with some pressure of your own. Sparked back to life.

It's so strange. It doesn't feel real. Remus Lupin kisses you heated and hard for just long enough to feel it in your teeth before he pulls away. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his fingertip running down your cheek, following that same path as your earlier rivulet. To think he saw it, really saw it, locked it away to remember and trace into your skin now… maybe he's seen much more of you than you realised all along.

“Will you do it again?” you say under your breath.

Remus must hear the thread of insecurity running through your question; you're afraid he'll say no, but he strokes your cheek again with that unfathomable softness and says, “Yeah, dove, of course I will.”

“Do you want to?”

And that's less insecurity and more selfishness, wanting the confession. He hears that, too.

“I want to kiss you more than I've ever wanted anything,” he says, eye to eye with you, your head tipped up and your heart in your throat, twitching and fizzling like a firecracker. “Yeah? And all that missing me you've been doing? All your worrying? You don't need to do that. You've never needed to do that–”

“I just never thought you liked me like that.” You and Remus aren't new to one another. “You've been the same since the day we met.”

Remus’ hands get a little more solid where he's holding you. “Dove. Dove, are you mad?”

“Remus–”

“Maybe I have been the same, but did you really not notice that I–” He squeezes your cheeks playfully, almost in disbelief. “If you want me, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere without you. You're not going anywhere without me.”

“So you like me?”

“Yes,” he says, his eyebrows pinched together at the starts. “Of course I do.” He laughs. “That's what I'm trying to tell you.”

“Oh,” you say, lifting your head.

Remus shuts his eyes a millisecond before you shut your own and kisses you again. The second round is softer, his smile to yours and struggling to find purchase. His breath huffs out in a minty laugh, shockwaves through your mouth.

“Stop laughing,” he breathes, his hands falling to your neck, your shoulders.

“You first.”

Your lips part under his, a split-second of contact. He yanks away before things can get too heavy, and you're glad he does, but for a moment you feel the loss like a wave of vertigo.

“Sorry, I'm going too fast, and you're tired.” His touch is ticklish behind your shoulder.

“It's okay. Maybe it is a bit fast, but I'm not tired anymore,” you confess.

Remus hugs you, cementing every feeling for him you have as he wraps his arms around you from over your shoulders, a deft hand cupped behind your neck. “That's not true. I can feel your back shaking. Let's go to bed.”

“After that?”

“What, are you worried it won't have happened in the morning?” he asks genuinely.

You go limp in his arms as he takes your weight against his chest. Not worried, but rather not sure you can be away from him so soon. You ask him in a whisper if you can come and sit with him, not to sleep with him, not to do anything else, and he whispers back, Anything you want. You both entertain the lie that you won't fall asleep in his bed.

—

Remus tenses as he hears the scuffling sounds of movement downstairs. It takes a train of thought awakening for him to realise it's only James, rising early as usual to put on a load of washing and prepare bits for lunch before he goes off for training. He can see him in his mind's eye if he tries, his friend dressed in the red and white rugby uniform, green socks up over his calves and white cleats scrubbed pristine for another ruck in the mud.

Remus’ relaxes, stretching out in bed until his hand bumps into something rigid.

He flinches.

You're laying on the mattress beside him, your head slipped off of the pillows and your arm tucked beneath you. It doesn't look comfortable, and if it were any other morning he'd pull it straight for you, but.

I kissed you, he thinks to himself, as though talking to you. He turns away from you until his back clicks and alleviates the ache in his hips, though he has to settle eventually, back on his back, no way of ignoring you. He doesn't want to ignore you. The opposite ��why are you so far away? Can he hold you?

What are the rules here?

Kissing… not dating… You're here in his bed, you'd asked to stay.

He takes your hand and pulls at your arm. Still sleeping, you mumble and move onto your back, releasing the pressure on your shoulder as he pulls you toward his chest. Your face is impassive, lax in sleep.

He should let you sleep.

“Dove,” he says, stroking up the length of your arm.

“Mm?” you hum.

“I need to ask you something.”

You twitch awake with a small cough. Your eyes are red with a lack of sleep as you open them, blinking, and he wishes stupidly that he could make it better. He makes a sympathetic sound for want of more to do.

“Why have you woken me up?” you ask, blinking at him. You gather that there's nothing urgent happening and push your face into his shoulder, practically nuzzling him. “It's Saturday.”

“I just need to ask you something.”

“So ask me,” you encourage through your sleepiness.

The washing machine whirs downstairs. It’s an old machine that you often joke is taking off into orbit during the final spin, loud as anything. He can barely hear your sluggish breathing underneath it, but he can't miss the catch in it after he asks, “Can I be your boyfriend?”

It's not the catch he's expecting. You laugh and readjust, wrapping your arms around him from the side and kissing the side of his neck clumsily. “Y'u asked me last night,” you say in a borderless run-on, sounding about as dopily in love as he's ever heard you.

He thinks about it. Yes, he did, after he'd kissed you many more times than he should've and curled up in bed with you, hands held loosely beneath the blankets. He remembers the question, the answer. The last kiss that followed, and you falling asleep beside him.

“I need a coffee,” he says, encouraging your head back so he can kiss your temple.

“No, you need to sleep more with me. And maybe kiss me again. If you want to.”

Sleeping isn't half as interesting as kissing you. He slots his nose against yours and languishes in the feeling of your lips, wondering if he's having a false start. He could still be dreaming. It would make sense.

The door clatters open with a curse. James stands in the doorway with a folded pile of Remus' washing from the radiators in his arms, an apology on his lips, “Sorry, mate, the door got away from– oh my god. Oh my god?”

Remus isn't an overly shy guy but he can't deal with this. “For fuck's sake,” he mutters, dropping his face into your shoulder. Your arm wraps under his neck, fingers splayed across his cheek.

“James–” you begin, resigned to your fate.

“This is flat-cest. This is the cardinal sin.”

“We don't live in a flat,” Remus says.

“That makes it worse. You can't even blame close quarters.” Remus peeks up to watch James in the doorway, still clinging to Remus’ washing, pure shock curdling his features. He shakes his head. “I'm telling Sirius.”

“Please don't!” you say.

You slump back into the pillows as James leaves anyways.

Remus hugs your soft abdomen. “Don't worry,” he says.

“I guess it's a good thing you've already asked me out,” you say.

“Why, what can they do?” Remus asks, wondering if he's allowed to put his face on your chest or if that's too forward. You rake a hand through his hair and encourage him forward, to his delight.

Frantic words. You and Remus loved up in bed despite it.

“I'm chucking them out!”

“James, they've been seeing for weeks. Can I go back to sleep?”

“What?!”

You grumble into his hair. “That's not even true… Does everyone know, then? That I liked you?”

Remus thinks of the shadow of you in the doorway, that sheepish smile you send his way before you ask him to unclasp your necklace before bed, or your face as he’d wiped the sooty stain of mascara from your cheek last night, half in love with him as you fell asleep in his palm.

“I don't think so, lovely,” he comforts. “Don't worry about it. We'll clear it up at lunch time. James isn't even mad, he's just sulking thinking we didn't tell him.”

“How could you not tell me?” James asks on cue, rounding the door again, arms ever tighter around the bundle of Remus’ clothes. He assumes it's being kept hostage. “I thought we were best mates.”

“James,” you say softly, all sympathy.

Remus likes the feeling of your voice under his ear, and your slightly too-quick heartbeat. He could fall asleep here and now if it weren't for the company.

“It's new,” you're saying, softness melded to a sweet pride. “Okay? I've barely told Remus how I feel, of course I was going to tell you. We were only talking about it last night. It really hasn't been weeks, Sirius is a stirrer.”

Remus pulls the covers up over your heads and climbs on top of you in a rush, demanding that the both of you be left alone, to James’ great annoyance but your delight, your laughter loud in the shell of his ear. Your chest shakes with it beneath him.

A great wad of fabric hits him in the legs. “Twats,” James says, seemingly stalking off.

Your whisper sends shivers down his spine. “We're alone again. Do you have anything else to ask me while you're too tired to remember?” you tease.

There's not a chance in the world that Remus would ever forget this.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thanks for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed, it's been a little bit since I wrote for remus like this so I was actually a bit nervous and I hope it's okay :D <3

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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kitkat13001 · 15 days ago

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₊˚⊹♡⭒˚.⋆ 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚠 ?

i try to be the chill girl but honestly i’m not knee deep in the passenger seat (and you’re eating me out) two weeks and your mom invites me (to her long beach house) is it casual now?

⤷ katsuki bakugou x reader

⤷ fem-leaning reader (“girl” used twice, no other pronouns), friends w benefits-ish to lovers, reader is bad at feelings, brief mention (1) of underage drinking, heavily implied reader and bakugou are sleeping together but nothing explicit, lyrics and title from chappell roan’s “casual,” this is long (~2k words)

for three months it’s been like this. three months of sneaking around and shared glances and private smiles and near-silent laughter at one in the morning.

it started one night towards the end of winter, just before the beginnings of spring.

you had just finished up a big practical exam and the class had come in first. you’d worked your asses off and it had been totally worth it. everyone felt like they were walking on air that night, and you’d all decided to get together for a late dinner in the dorms to celebrate.

you remember it clearly. the valentines decorations were still up in the lounge. you’d ordered pizza to supplement sato’s delicious noodle arrangement and bakugou’s yakitori, and stayed up well past curfew talking and eating and laughing. it was one of the best nights of your life.

you’d gone to the bathroom, but when you came back to the lounge everyone had already gone up to bed.

“guess the party’s over,” you’d mumbled to yourself with a little laugh of disbelief.

“oi!” had come a voice from the kitchen. “who’s out there?!”

“guess,” you’d called out teasingly, leaning against the doorframe.

bakugou wore his trademark scowl, same as ever. he was standing over the sink, hands covered in suds amidst a pile of dishes.

“hmph. the hell you doing up, dumbass? figured you’d gone to bed after you disappeared on us.”

“hm. three years and you think you’d come up with a better nickname,” you laughed. “i told denki i was going to the bathroom. something in those noodles did a number on me.”

he had scoffed, seemingly irritated by your overshare. you didn’t care. you were never one to withhold anything and he knew that.

“whatever. everyone’s asleep already anyway.”

“what are you doing up, kacchan?”

he’d scowled at that, but said nothing. he had long since given up trying to dissuade you from using the nickname. he nodded to the pile of dishes in the sink before him.

“damn extras left a mess. said we’d pick up in the morning but i can’t sleep with this fuckin’ mess.”

you had laughed at that. he fixed you with a withering glare.

“what’s so fuckin’ funny?”

“what a mouth,” you snickered. “you never change, do you, kacchan?”

he’d scoffed, scrubbing agitatedly at a plate. “i change plenty.”

you just laughed again. you guessed he was right, because three years ago he never would’ve been caught dead up this late.

“you gonna help me with this or what?” he demanded, gesturing to the mess of the kitchen.

you’d shrugged, figuring it would’ve been cruel to leave him to face this alone.

“i guess so. you wash, i dry?”

he replied with a soft grunt of affirmation.

it was peaceful that night, standing shoulder to shoulder with bakugou as he handed off soaked dishes for you to wipe down. you took comfort in the warm brush of his hands against yours.

and the fateful moment that led to all of this?

he’d fumbled a dish, the mug slipping from his soap-slicked grip. you had gone to catch it, reaching over at the exact same time he did.

you remember the brief pain of your heads colliding and bakugou’s proceeding shout.

you had grabbed his shoulders for support, and you remember being surprised by how warm he was. it’s not like you’d never touched him before, but the number of times you’d ever been this close to him was minuscule.

he might’ve been mad, probably about to open his mouth to berate you about how he’d “had it!” and that you “should’ve left it” or something. but he stopped cold, eyes wide at just how close you were. barely an inch between your noses. you could smell the spices on him from when he’d been cooking earlier.

you don’t know what led you to say it. maybe it was the late hour or the obscene amount of food you’d eaten or the wine cooler you’d allowed yourself to drink after mina had brought them out.

“can i kiss you?”

you think bakugou might’ve been more surprised by that than if you’d socked him in the face.

you don’t know why he did, but he had nodded. he thought about it for a second—just one, not too long—and then given the slightest incline of his head. and you did it.

you kissed him.

it wasn’t your first kiss. if it was his, you couldn’t tell. he was soft, responsive to your movements but still sure of himself when he kissed you back.

he tasted vaguely of spices.

you don’t know how long you stayed like that. you don’t know at what point his hands moved from the sink to your cheeks or when he’d backed you against the counter.

you just know that when he’d asked if you wanted to go up to his room, you nodded with flushed cheeks and a breathless smile.

and that’s how it’s been for three months. you’d never addressed it, never put a name to what you had. you’d never questioned it or taken it for granted. bakugou is the kind of person you can follow blindly into any situation and know you’re going to come out okay. and you’ve never been someone who needed a reason to be around people you like.

tonight’s not much different. it’s quiet, a cool breeze in the air from the open window. the nights are getting warmer as spring sets in, so the breeze feels good on your skin.

you lay back on bakugou’s bed, breathing in the smell of his ocean breeze laundry detergent and the faint scent of the almost-blooming cherry blossoms just outside.

he didn’t used to let you stay over. he’d walk you back to your dorm once everyone was asleep, grumble a goodnight and disappear back down the hall. but after a while, he stopped mentioning how late it was getting. he’d just toss over and fall asleep, his arm still resting across your body next to him.

“what’re ya sighing for?” bakugou huffs, reaching over you to plug his phone into the charging outlet.

“i’m not sighing,” you reply, frowning up at the ceiling.

“and now you’re pouting.”

you huff back at him, propping yourself up on your elbows. “i am not pouting. i’m eighteen years old, i don’t pout.”

katsuki raises his eyebrows in challenge. “you want me to get you a mirror?”

you roll your eyes and toss a pillow at him. he catches it just the way you expect him to, right in front of his face. you strike quicker than he can move it, smacking the front with a palm. you laugh at his startled growl, falling back on the bed as he throws the pillow back your way.

you smile innocently up at him, clutching the pillow to your chest and relish in the scowl he casts at you and the way his hair is tousled from the scuffle.

“brat,” he scoffs, knocking his leg against yours. “c’mon, it’s late. i wanna sleep.”

he waits until you’ve crawled in beside him to turn out the lights.

you stare out into the dark for a while, but sleep doesn’t come.

“katsuki?”

his responding groan in muffled into the pillow. you prop yourself up to turn and look at him.

“can i ask you something?”

you see his scarlet eyes open in the dark and glance up at you with a furrowed brow.

he huffs as he rolls over to face you. “i guess.”

now you’re nervous. god, why did you have to bring it up?

“i don’t want to sound stupid or anything, but i…” you pause, trying to figure out how to phrase it. “what are we? i mean, like…to each other?”

it’s both a relief and an immense amount of anxiety finally getting the words out. “it’s been eating at me for a while now—and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to—but i figured i’d die if i didn’t at least ask.”

katsuki’s looking right at you, but for once you can’t read his eyes or expression. the silence is stretching and your stomach turns with unease. you keep talking, and even though you know you’re rambling, your mouth is like a runaway train.

“i mean, to my knowledge at least, you don’t sleep around, right? we don’t see other people. and you’re not…you’re not completely detached when we’re together—at least i hope you aren’t. you don’t act like it anyways. so it seems like it’s more than a physical thing?”

god, why can’t you stop talking? it’s more to yourself than katsuki at this point anyway.

“and we’re friends. we’ve been friends for such a long time now. it’s not like i’m some random girl you picked up off the street.”

he scoffs quietly and you glance over at him. his expression is pinched, but otherwise unreadable. “tch. i wouldn’t do that.”

“exactly,” you agree, trying to keep your voice even as you fidget with your hands. your voice is quiet and you hang your head a little, unable to face his deep eyes. “i…know you care about me. so i guess that’s why i’m asking what this is to you.” you start rambling again before the silence gets too long. “are we just friends who mess around sometimes? is it that you’re not ready for a relationship…or maybe you do want a relationship but just not with me?”

“do you want a relationship?” he asks.

“i…i don’t know. maybe, if that’s what you wanted.”

“what do you want?”

“i mean, we don’t have to put a label on anything if you don’t want to. unless you do want to, then i guess we could do that too.” the options are flooding your brain, mouth going off without filter.

“what do you want?” katsuki asks again, red eyes boring into yours in the dark.

you shrink back, feeling small under his unwavering gaze. “i…i don’t know.”

he scoffs. “liar.”

your heart sinks a little.

“what do you mean?”

“you know what i mean,” he replies, and you can hear the frustration in his voice. “you’re not the ‘whatever you want’ girl. you never have been.”

you know he’s right, but that doesn’t make it less painful to hear. normally that kind of tenacity is what people strive for, what people admire. but the way katsuki says it…he makes it sound like a bad thing. like you’re selfish.

“so tell me,” he insists, face mere inches from yours. “why don’t you care what we are?”

“because i care about you,” you whisper, almost against your will. “and i want you to be happy, so i’ll take you in whatever capacity i can get you.”

he looks almost surprised at that, then slightly exasperated like you’ve missed his entire point. he exhales sharply, sitting back against the headboard.

“before i answer you, lemme ask you something myself first.”

“okay,” you breathe.

“why the sudden need to know?”

“huh?”

“you said this shit’s been eating at you for a while now. how come? what’s got you feeling all contemplative all of a sudden?”

it takes a minute to gather your thoughts, much less the courage to speak. you hadn’t been expecting him to turn this on you.

“well…we’re graduating in a few weeks, and i guess i just…i don’t want to never see you again. i don’t want this to end. and i…” you pause, taking a shaky breath, then shrug. “i don’t want to lose you, kacchan.”

he’s staring now in what you can only describe as disbelief. your stomach stirs uneasily as you sit in silence for a moment.

“you don’t want to lose me,�� he repeats, like its the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “that’s it?”

“yes, that’s it,” you reply, suddenly defensive. you cross your arms, feeling incredibly self-conscious now.

“and you think i’m what, just gonna up and leave you? don’t you give a fuck about us?” he demands.

“i didn’t know there was an ‘us’!” you cry. “i didn’t know it meant anything to you.”

“of course it fuckin’ meant something!” katsuki shoots back, on the verge of a shout.

“i stayed with you the entire time you had the flu in second year. i let you come with me to the gym. we did our work studies together. i make you food when you’re stupid and don’t eat, i let you come in my room whenever you want and sleep in my fuckin’ bed when you have a bad dream.”

you sit there for a moment, absorbing it all. it’s true, all of it.

“i don’t do that shit for just anyone,” he adds, grumbling. and he’s right. he doesn’t. “so don’t you for one minute think that you don’t mean anything to me. why else would i be spending all this damn time with you?”

“i don’t know,” you hum, crawling over to him. “maybe you did it cause all our other friends were getting together and you felt left out.”

“when have i ever done something just because some other fuckin’ extra did too?”

“never,” you giggle, leaning against him until you’ve fallen into his lap.

“exactly. so what does that tell you?”

“that…you’re very brave and independent?”

he groans loudly, rolling his eyes. “you’re fuckin’ impossible.”

“you love it,” you beam up at him. your stomach flutters with something warmer now as he reaches down and brings you up to meet his lips. it’s a deep kiss, leaving no room for anything but him and you and saying everything that you never said up until now.

“yeah, so what if i do?” he murmurs when he pulls away, still close enough that his lips brush yours when he speaks.

“tell me,” you say, smile and voice soft as you push his spiky bangs away from his face. his cheeks are warm under your hands. “tell me for real this time.”

his ruby eyes are deep and sincere when he says it.

“i love you.”

it’s all you ever needed to hear.

nothing like the pressure of finals to get you locked in on a fic. i’ve been sitting on this for a while and i finally got inspired to finish it. i really enjoyed the reader/bakugou dynamic here. hope you like!

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst #mha x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #kitty.writes!

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sevsdollette · 7 months ago

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thinking about domestic! sevika taking a day off work, but it’s your day to clean and she can’t stop staring at you.

contains: staring, sevika being needy, grinding, thigh riding, talks of breeding

nsfw, MDNI and men get away

you had to clean the master bedroom, scrub the bathroom, and take care of the dishes. your day was full. that morning you had to drag yourself out of bed, escaping the heavy, sleepy arm of your wife that was wrapped around you.

she was a brute in the best way, but she slept like a brick. when she snored, she shook the house. when she dreamt, she muttered. it was an adventure every time you had to pry yourself from the jaws of her grasp to go to the bathroom or get ready for the day.

anyway, you got up. it was a rare day of relaxation for sevika, so you thought getting the chores out of the way without her worrying would be best. she would have a nice day of you taking care of her. a tidy house was the first step.

the bedroom was filthy. laundry was the first task you had to hassle. with such busy schedules, the two of you gained a habit of tossing your clothes anywhere and everywhere. perhaps most of it was in a fleeting moment of hornyness, but nevertheless, it was a mess.

as you cleaned you realized just how much you had to do, and even the clothes on your back were from yesterday. you searched your dresser for something clean to wear, but the only viable option was a pair of tiny pajama shorts.

so there you were, tidying up your bedroom with no shirt, no bra, and only those shorts. you just had to clean everything and have a fresh reset.

it only took a few minutes of this cleaning when you heard rustling in the bed. you took it as Sevika tossing in a dream or sleepily readjusting her pillow.

a minute later, the springs groaned and she sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes to get the image right. “why are you—what—?”

you spun around, a pair of her boxers in one hand and a shoe in the other. “this is the only piece of clothing i own that is clean. i am seriously overdue for laundry.”

her eyes trailed down your chest. “so… there nothing else?”

“nothing else?” you furrowed your brow.

“nothing underneath?”

you scoffed. “sevika, hush.”

after that, everywhere you went Sevika wasn’t far behind. your body was her alarm clock. She was standing against the counter as you brought dishes to the kitchen. Her steady gaze followed your ass as it peaked it from under your shorts.

She liked it when you leaned over to pull the clothes out of the washing machine and shove them into the dryer. (she almost wished you’d get stuck ;) )

when you went to the bathroom to scrub out the tub, she almost felt herself salivate as you bent over the edge. As you leaned to clean the far side, she could see just under the hem of your shorts to the soft flesh of your ass. your lips were purses in concentration; your brow was knit with thought. just one chance of scenery and you’d be pinching your eyes shut for another reason.

once the tub was sparkling, you wiped the sweat off your forehead and stood up. as you got to your feet, your frame fit into sevika’s muscular front. Her hands slid up your stomach and cupped your bare breasts. she hummed and dipped her face into the crook of your neck. she kissed the skin under your ear softly.

“babe, please. i’m cleaning.”

“hmm. why don’t you take a break, baby? i’ll have you sweating in a different way.”

“sevika you’re supposed to be relaxing not worrying about my chores.”

“well, i am worried. you know i like it better when you do things dirty.”

“shut up.”

“though, as a matter of fact. i think the sheets on our bed need scrubbing. why don’t you come with me and help me take a look.”

her tricks didn’t work on you and you pushed her off of you to keep up your cleaning spree. all that was left was the dishes. so you sat her down on the couch (which had a clear view of the kitchen sink) and told her to be patient.

it was amusing to see such a headstrong woman sit so still. you gave her a treat of swaying your hips as you walked away to the kitchen.

as much as you wanted to keep your authority, you couldn’t help but hurry through the dishes. you might have left some dry corners as you wiped the counter. perhaps you stacked more dishes to dry on their own than could safely sit on the mat. but, hey, if your wife wanted to fuck you, how were you supposed to keep her away for so long?

with the last dish put away and the rag wrung out, you turned around to look at Sevika. you set your hands on your hips, meeting her eyes that had been glued to you the whole time. “cleaning’s done,” you mused.

it was almost scary how quickly she was on top of you.

she grabbed your waist, pressing you against the counter and capturing your mouth in a kiss. her rough, greedy hands we’re feeling over every part of your body she had been watching for hours. she groped and massaged your breast, rolling your hardened nipples between her fingers. she smoothed her hands down your thighs and up under your shorts to grab your ass.

you moaned against her lips and kissed her deeper. her tongue slid against yours, tasting your eagerness as she teased your cunt through your shorts. she definitely hadn’t forgotten how little clothing you were wearing.

“you’ve been such a good girl this morning,” she cooed, “cleaning my house and all. now it’s time for you to relax, baby.”

you nodded, whining as she pressed on your clit over the fabric of your clothes.

her kisses carried down to your neck and she was quickly sucking over your skin. just the taste of your flesh was making her moan in your ear. your head tilted back to give her more room, mind feeling dizzy.

while she had you distracted, her hands came up to the crotch of your shorts and ripped them. soon the clothing was falling off your hips and hitting your ankles.

“Sevika! now i actually have nothing to wear.”

she grunted, picking you up to set her thigh between your legs. “good.”

you had no more control over the situation. her hands gripped your hips with a deadly strength as she rolled you over her muscle. you moaned. head falling back as your clit rubbed over her skin.

she had you gasping already. her teeth dragged over the bruises on your neck as she whispered nasty things in your ear. “take it, baby. i love you, sweetheart. fuck, you’ve got me so crazy for you and this cunt.”

a blush heated your face as your growing slick made nasty noises on her thigh. you were married for god sake, but every time she had you flustered.

“Sev—“

“cum on me, baby. i’ll fill you up—i’ll breed my pretty housewife.”

a guttural moan broke your pursed lips and another wave of arousal hit your core. she knew exactly what to say to make you finish. you could feel your climax approaching and you rocked your hips faster.

her hard thigh muscle made a perfect surface to stimulate yourself. she helped you through your faster pace, praising you with how well you were doing, how you were her good, gorgeous wife. too good for her.

you came with a stuttering, muffled plea. she kissed over your sore neck and guided you down from your high. her thumbs rubbed circled over your hip bones as she let you sit gently on her leg. your legs were still shaking.

through hazy, blurry eyes, you looked up at her. she kissed you slowly, sliding her tongue over your bottom lip and then biting it hard.

she picked you up, slinging you over her shoulder and walking to the bedroom.

note: tried a new format, tried no caps. tell me if it's more aesthetically pleasing. this fic is all I want to be for someone. let me be a butch or masc's pretty house wife. gonna get me a mrs degree.

#fanfic #arcane #arcane league of legends #fanfiction #sevika #smut #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika fanfic #sevika arcane #lesbian #wlw

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zepskies · 28 days ago

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Lost in Translation

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Female POC!Reader

Summary: Living with this man isn’t easy, and you’ve absolutely had it with him. Supe or not, you’re one step shy of kicking him out. Will he try to make it up to you?

AN: So after getting requests for a Soldier Boy x POC!Reader, I’ve had a short series in development called Unravel Me. I’m a bit stalled on the outline right now, so I thought this could be a fun way to introduce their relationship and see if you guys think I should continue with the prequel, kind of like how I did with Checkerboard and the Break Me Down-verse.

This story would take place after Unravel Me, after a fair bit of character development lol. It also fulfills a bingo square for @jacklesversebingo!

Prompt: “Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!”

Song Inspo: “Damage” by H.E.R.

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, bit of dirty talk, fingering, edging, some angst, fluff and feels. The reader is a mixed race POC (Afro Latina), with textured hair.

The apartment was quiet, but not peaceful.

You were in the kitchen washing the Mt. Everest of dishes piled in the sink, partly because someone hadn’t rinsed off his own plate of carne guisada.

Ben had asked for beef for dinner yesterday, and you’d graciously delivered with your grandmother’s recipe for the stew. It was filled with chunks of tender, fall-off-your-fork beef, garlic, onions, carrots, and more—all marinated to perfection, if you said so yourself. You even added in some little yellow potatoes, both for taste and texture.

Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to put those meaty man muscles to good use, aside from shoveling three helpings into his mouth.

A bottomless pit and a freakin’ man-child, I swear to God, you inwardly groused as you scrubbed the ceramic a bit too hard with the rough side of the sponge. No matter how many times you asked, nicely, it seemed your boyfriend couldn’t manage to pull his weight around here.

Okay, you knew his job could be demanding, but so was yours.

What the hell is this, Maid in Manhattan? Newsflash: I’ve got shit to do too!

“And I cooked!” you muttered in indignation. That reminder propelled you to scrub a bit harder. The least he could do was clean the kitchen. Or take out the trash. Or toss the laundry into the washing machine once in a while. Like you really wanted to handle his dirty boxers all the damn time.

Did he have no shame? Couldn’t he do anything for you without you having to ask him three million times?

Es que él es bruto, mija, as your Dominican grandma would say about your grandpa, often while swiping a tired hand over her long braids. Es como un animal con ropa.

Just then, you heard his heavy steps creaking on the wood floors in your bedroom. Today was his day off, so he was probably taking his sweet time rolling his ass out of bed.

Meanwhile, you were hustling to get the place at least decently clean before you got yourself together for work. The thought made you simmer as you continued to place dishes on the counter rack. Each one clacking to rest was satisfying, but it also ticked up your internal dial to a fine boil.

You heard him bang the bathroom door open and cringed internally, your teeth grinding. You’d reminded him three times already about the neighbors and the noise.

Sabes que, supe or not, I’m about to—

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Ben’s voice washed over you, deep and still a little rough with sleep as he stepped into the kitchen. His old man loafers slid against the floor with every step when he approached you from behind, and his heavy hands found a familiar resting place on the curve of your waist.

He swiped your slightly wild curls to the side and pressed a tantalizing kiss into your neck. His voice, his touch, the brief scrape of his beard; it all caused a small shiver of delight up your spine.

“Hmm, you smell good. Good enough to eat.” And he teased you with the graze of his teeth, biting gently enough where your neck met your shoulder. You flinched with half a huff, trying not to smile.

Just like that, it took the edge off your irritation…a little. You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could…

“Hey,” he said, “since you’re already up and about in here, how about some breakf—”

Your spine tightened once again.

“Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!” you snapped. You moved out of his arms to grab a hand towel to dry your hands with. They were all pruny from washing dishes.

“I’m already running late. Why? Because this place is a fucking mess, and the only one who seems to care is me!” you exclaimed. First, you gestured to the dishes now drying on the rack. “Hmm?”

You then opened up the lid to the full-to-bursting trashcan. “What do you call that, huh? You said you’d take this out last night. After I asked you twice. What, was I not speaking English? Did something get lost in translation, or are you already losing your hearing? Just let me know, ‘cause I can sure as hell crank up the volume for you!”

Ben raised a brow. You read his thoughts in his surly frown. You have some fucking audacity, talking to him like that, but it’s still early. He hasn’t even had his coffee, for Christ’s sake.

If he was more awake, no doubt he’d be barking back at you. Instead, he heaved a sigh, drew closer to you and shut the trashcan lid. At least there was one lid he knew how to close.

“All right, it’s just a little mess. No need to get fucking hysterical,” he said, trying to grasp your arm to placate you. You shrugged out of his hold and crossed your arms in anger.

“Ben, it’s not just a little mess. And what is this, 1945? I’m not hysterical!”

His lips twitched at a smirk, making you even angrier. But he’d caught enough smoke from you in the past to know he didn’t want it at 8:00 in the morning. He grasped your arms and rubbed them up and down, trying to sooth you.

“Okay, okay. It’s a little early for all this Latina temper, don’tcha think?” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your gaze snapped up at him with a glare.

Oooh, this man. He knew how to get you mad fucking tight.

Not in a good way.

Instead of exploding like Mount Fuji, you kept it all under your skin. You turned away from him and aimed to continue getting ready for work, but first, you took out a Greek yogurt from the fridge and wholly ignored him taking up space in the kitchen. You wouldn’t answer him when he called your name. In fact, you were going to give him the most frigid of cold shoulders—so cold he’d get hyperthermia through that invulnerable skin.

He waylaid your plans when he grabbed your hand, swinging you back into his arms. You gasped at the suddenness of it, looking up into his cocky, charming smile. You couldn’t stare too long at his green eyes, or the rest of his handsome, bearded face. Not when he knew exactly how to use it against you.

“Don’t think that’s gonna get you out of this,” you warned him. You set your yogurt on the kitchen counter and pushed at his chest, but it was no more effective than pushing at a mountain and expecting it to move.

His hands spanned your waist, his fingers beginning to press into your soft sides. He bowed his head, brushing his lips against your neck and the shell of your ear when he said, “Out of what, baby doll? Looks to me like we can still have a good morning.”

His voice once against trilled heat and tingles through your body, but you managed to lean back, holding the pads of your fingers to his lips.

“Hey, I’m not playing around here. If we’re gonna do this,” you pointed between him and yourself, “then let me make one thing really clear. I’m not la sirvienta around here, okay? I’m not your fucking maid. I’m your girl. Your partner. And since you live here now, I’m gonna need you to do your part.”

Ben almost rolled his eyes, but you grasped his chin. He frowned at you with furrowed brows. There was a time where he would've been inclined to grab your wrist and try to intimidate you with his temper. You saw it lying in wait behind his pursed lips and irritated stare, but you weren't afraid of him. Not anymore.

“Listen to me. I get that you haven’t lived like us commoners for most of your life, but this stuff is important,” you said. You took a deep breath, and you counted to three. You met him with a calmer gaze. “Ben, I love you.”

You let go of his chin and lowered your hand, letting it splay over his chest. He softened, ever so slightly, even though his frown remained.

“I love you,” you repeated, “but I don’t need a man-child.”

"Excuse me?" he did snap this time, his hold loosening from around your waist. "The fuck did you just say?"

You narrowed your eyes right back at him.

"You heard me," you said. "I want a man. A man who's going to be my rock when I need him. Can you do that for me, like I do for you? Are you gonna be my man, or do I need to claim you as a dependent on my taxes?"

His expression sharpened again at your thinly veiled accusation…but the longer he looked into your eyes, no longer angry, but earnest and imploring, the more he actually listened to what you were saying. His jaw worked for a moment in annoyance. You subtly softened him with your hands soothing up and down his arms, a slow back and forth over solid, warm muscle.

Eventually, he was able to curb his instinct to bark a callous reply. He nodded, expelling a breath through his nose.

“Fine,” he said.

Your brows rose. “Fine?”

“Yeah,” he said flatly.

You knew it was the closest you were going to get to an agreement, as well as an apology. You were still working on that last one, but dating this man was a work in progress, for both of you. With a sigh, you patted his arms that were slowly wrapping back around you.

“Okay, I’m really running late now,” you said.

��You should probably get a move on then,” Ben said.

Still, he didn’t release you. He stared down at you with an amused smile while you struggled against his hold. You uttered a laugh.

“Babe, I need to get to work.” You leaned over and spied the oven clock. “Oh, shit! it’s almost 8:30! If I’m not there by 9:00—”

“You sure you want to go now? Tense, body all tight,” he said, his voice deep with sensuous suggestion.

His lips neared yours, but he didn’t kiss you. Not yet. His lips veered away to brush against your cheek. He inhaled deeply as he moved, taking in the floral scent of your soap, mixed with the army of products you styled your hair with, and the faint imprint of your perfume from the night before. He skimmed down your neck and along the shell of your ear.

“Wouldn’t you rather I fuck all that tension right out of you?” he offered. “Leave you nice and warm and satisfied, have that pretty pussy coming hard on my cock.”

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as his filthy mouth and the timbre of his voice struck a chord through your body, tinging warm arousal between your legs. Your fingers tightened on his strong arms, digging into the fabric of his loose robe. Ben took that as a wordless confirmation. He bent at the knees and grabbed you up by your plush thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck on instinct, with a small gasp.

But you recovered quickly. Taking his face into your hands, you met his lips roughly with yours in a devouring kiss. He set you down on the kitchen counter hard enough to make the clean dishes rattle. His hands were just as claiming as his mouth, squeezing your hips and thighs as he spread them open to make more room for himself.

While your tongue dueled with his, you shoved the robe off his shoulders, followed by his sleep shirt pooling to the floor. His hand slid under your top as well, and almost ripped it at the hem in his haste to get it up and over your head.

“Ow, ah-ow!” You giggled when the collar got caught on your hair. Ben’s breathy chuckle reached your ears. He was gentler in how he helped get the shirt off the rest of the way. Your mane of hair fell into your face, and you huffed.

Ben did you the favor of brushing the thick curls away from your eyes, tugging several strands behind your ears, even though most of them didn’t obey him. He framed your face with his big hands, and his thumbs swept along your skin, the rich complexion shining in the morning light filtering through the kitchen window.

There was more care in his touch now, his strength tempered just for you. Fond amusement colored his features. For as much shit as you gave him, you still gave him more of yourself; more of your trust, your patience...and all the rest of it. You gave him more than anyone that had come before you, and deep inside, he doubted anyone that might come after you.

You smiled up at him, a little wryly. You leaned up and met him for a gentler kiss. Your eyes fell closed at the feeling of him, and the spicy hint of his aftershave. It was a scent that often clung to his pillows. When he was gone on a mission for days on end, you wouldn’t admit to clinging to one of them to help you sleep, and make you feel safe.

“Mmm, you smell good,” you whispered. And it was true. He smelled like mint and spicy aftershave. You plied his lips with deeper kisses, licking into his mouth with a sensuous tongue, before you stole his words. “Good enough to eat.”

He uttered a groan deep in his throat. It satisfied you, enhancing the warm flood between your legs.

Fuck it. You were calling in sick today.

You drew him back into the pull of you, winding your arms around his neck and your fingers in his hair. It was getting long again, but you liked it. You liked something to hold onto, just as much as he did. Your nails brushed against his scalp, down the back of his neck, earning a hum of pleasure from him. You wound your legs tightly around his hips and invited the press of his hard cock against your throbbing core, even through your panties and pajama pants. A faltering groan caught in his chest.

“Needier that I thought this morning,” he remarked. His warm hands drifted down to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over dark, pebbled nipples. You sighed into his mouth in response.

You heard the cocky grin in his voice, but for once, you didn’t care. You did need him. You wanted him to fuck the stress and chaos out of you.

…Well, he’d caused most of it, but still. He was gonna damn well fix it.

And he aimed to do just that, with his hands sliding farther down your body with purpose, grabbing the waistband of your pajama pants and roughly sliding them down, along with your panties. Your bare ass felt cold against the tile counter, but you didn’t have too much time to think about it with Ben’s thick fingers probing between the wet, glistening folds of your pussy. He soon found what he was searching for, circling firmly over your clit.

Your hips raised off the counter as you whimpered against his lips and ground yourself against his hand. You broke from his kiss to bury your face in his neck. Ben’s free hand grasped your hip and pulled you right to the edge of the counter.

There he held you down, his brows furrowing in concentration. His fingers sought your entrance and slipped inside you with ease. By now, he knew what angles would have you squirming, writhing, your body arching into him, while your inner walls clenched around his hand.

“Fuck. That’s right, baby doll. I’ve gotcha,” he said roughly, continuing to fuck your pussy with his fingers. His thumb rubbed against your clit between strokes.

The coil in your lower belly began to tighten, the delicious throbbing deep inside beginning to make your thighs shake. But just as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, Ben withdrew his fingers from your sopping channel.

You struggled to catch your breath in shock. Your head raised from Ben’s shoulder to glare at him. When your mouth opened to deliver an indignant protest, he silenced you with his mouth claiming yours. Your nails bit into his shoulder in retaliation, even though you knew it wouldn’t hurt him in the slightest. In fact, it only curved his lips into a smirk against yours.

You slapped him on the shoulder, immensely frustrated, but also laughing. “You’re such an assh—”

Before you could even finish cursing him, he gathered you up again and lifted you off the counter. He walked you over to the couch in the living room. He would’ve loved nothing better than to lay you out across the two-seater table in the kitchen, but he thought the shitty old wood might just give out under the strain of him fucking you. So the living room was a close second, and in this tiny-ass apartment, it was barely a few feet more to walk.

He laid you out underneath him on couch, and it groaned and squeaked under both of your weight. You squeaked too, if for a different reason. It had Ben smirking down at you. He freed himself from the confines of his pajama pants and coated his rock-hard arousal with the leftover wetness coating his hand.

“I approve of the scene change,” you said breathlessly, once again stroking his arms. Your fingers slipped over every dip and plain of muscle.

“Didn’t think you wanted to be fucked on some cold tile,” he said, even if the sentiment behind his words warmed you. You were pretty sure he didn’t used to care about that. At least, before he met you.

He grabbed your hips, lined himself up to your entrance, and his cock breached you smoothly, pushing into you until his hips fit snugly against yours.

“Oh, fuck,” you choked out, your thighs squeezing around his frame.

“Feel good, sweetheart? All fuckin' filled up,” Ben teased, a bit breathless himself. You were a tight fucking fit. He slid out of you experimentally, drawing a moan from your lips. You nodded.

“Yeah, baby. So good,” you freely admitted, panting all the while.

Ben’s hot gaze drew over you as he continued moving hard and fast inside you. He took in your every bare curve, the way hot breaths and sexy moans fell from your lips with every thrust, the way your hair fanned out underneath you and hung off the side of the sofa cushion, the way your hands still explored him and touched him, demanding, but still loving.

For that, it was all the more tantalizing against his skin, warming even the darkest places he tried not to show you.

And every drag of his cock inside you stretched your inner walls in the most delicious of ways. It wasn’t just that he was able to fill you to the fucking brim. He also just knew his way around a woman’s body. He knew you, and he knew exactly how to make you come undone. Even quick and dirty on your couch, he made you feel brand new.

He was right, damn him.

The coil deep inside you snapped. Pleasure crested through you and made your inner walls squeeze him tight, fluttering and pulsing with warmth. You came hard on his cock, hard enough to milk his release shortly after for all he was worth.

His forearms fell to the cushion on either side of your head. You were basically being smothered, but for the moment you didn’t mind. You just held his sweat-slick body against yours while you both caught your breath, each of your heartbeats falling back into a steady rhythm.

He was always so damn warm. It was nice, considering how cold it was this winter, but the thought always made you a bit sad. It reminded you of the power housed in his chest, and every memory he caged there as well.

You laid a gentle kiss on his shoulder. In return, his lips found the side of your head and hesitated there.

“You’re not going to work,” he said. It was more an observation than anything else.

You laughed breathlessly and shook your head. “Nope.”

He nodded. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

You could get behind that. Your kitchen was finally clean, which meant your kitchen was closed until further notice.

“Shower first,” you stipulated.

You felt Ben’s smile grow against your dewy skin. “All right.”

You sighed, and he guided you to your feet along with him. You had a feeling “breakfast” was going to be lunch by the time you and Ben finally escaped this apartment.

AN: Lol hope you had fun with this one! Let me know if you'd like to see more of these two! 💚💚

Spanish Translations:

Es que él es bruto, mija. Es como un animal con ropa.

It’s that he’s stupid, my daughter. He's like an animal with clothes.

However, “bruto” can also mean brutish, crude, and/or like a beast, so it fits in more than one way. 😂

Sabes que, …

You know what, …

La sirvienta

The servant (or maid) (female)

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bellaxgiornata · 10 months ago

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The Devil at Your Window |4: One of the Good Ones|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 4.9k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series Installment List & Summary

a/n: Just a smidge of angst in this one! And I've already got a rough draft written for the next part, too! This story has been stuck in my head... Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom @marveious @sunflower-tia @fizanotfeeza

Your arm burned from the effort with which you were currently scrubbing your kitchen counter, working hard trying to remove a stubborn stain with the sponge in your hand. On the counter just behind you, your phone was playing music as you stress-cleaned. Truthfully you were too caught up in your thoughts as you'd been frantically jumping from one task to the next to have been paying much attention to what song was currently playing, though.

You'd already vigorously deep cleaned your bathroom, scrubbing your shower hard enough to make your fingers ache. Once you'd finished in there, you'd ended up in your bedroom, finally folding the laundry basket of clothes that had been sitting in the corner of your room all week. After that, you'd changed your bedsheets before bringing the dirty ones down to the laundry facility in your building to be washed. Upon returning to your apartment, you'd begun meticulously organizing your kitchen pantry before cleaning out the kitchen sink of dirty dishes. And then you'd landed on scrubbing your counters with every intention of cleaning off your stove top next.

You'd been cleaning like crazy after you'd come home from work tonight and finished dinner because you'd had a shitty day–though really it had been a shitty week. Everything had gone absolutely wrong at the office and you'd somehow managed to make a massive mistake on a big project the other day. Thankfully today you'd corrected the error, but your anxiety over the issue hadn't remotely disappeared. And of course, Eric, the most obnoxious and irritating co-worker at your workplace, had been at the top of his game of being an absolute asshole to you about the issue all week, too. You'd admittedly had far too many daydreams of throwing your coffee on him just to shut him up these past few days.

But as if that hadn't been enough, you'd found yourself becoming increasingly upset over the realization of your growing feelings for the Devil, who you hadn't actually seen since he'd appeared injured at your place just over a week ago. You were torn between believing his absence was either because he'd been recovering from his injury–which would also explain his absence in the news lately–or that he had zero interest in continuing whatever friendship you thought you'd both been developing. And because you'd gotten your period earlier today, you'd been hormonal all week. Which meant your brain had been telling you it was because of the latter reason.

But you didn't want to think about that. It was ridiculous to have a stupid crush on him. You didn't even know the man's name or what he looked like beneath the mask. You had no clue what he did for a living, if anything at all. And you'd only seen him three times now, it's not like you'd known him for months. It was quite likely he didn't feel the same despite the flirting he'd been doing.

So that was what your brain continued to tell you this week whenever you got upset about his lack of appearances on your fire escape. That those visits hadn’t meant anything to him. You were just another person in the city he protected. His first visit had been accidental after all. And the second time was just to return the scarf he'd borrowed. The last time he had appeared had been because you'd been a convenient safe place for him to briefly stop and recover at when he'd been hurt, nothing more.

Though trying to repeatedly rationalize that didn't make the ache in your chest disappear. It didn't stop you coming home every night from work hoping to have another surprise visit from the mysterious vigilante before you went to bed. And it certainly didn't stop you from shedding a few pathetic tears when he continued to remain absent each night.

You'd begun to miss him. It was impossible to deny that now. And you'd worried about how he was doing with his injury, wondering if he really was alright. Which only had you wondering more about what he was capable of if he could meditate like that because–

“It's a bit early for spring cleaning, isn't it?”

Your hand abruptly paused mid-aggressive scrub of the stain that had long since been cleaned at the sound of the familiar and unexpected voice cutting through your thoughts. Eyes growing wide, you spun on your bare feet to find the Devil standing on the other side of your kitchen counter with a grin on his lips beneath that black mask.

“It's only February,” he teased. “Spring is still another few weeks away. Maybe show your counter a little mercy before you wear a hole in it.”

Hand gripping the soapy sponge tighter, you felt your heart nearly fly up into your throat in excitement. Because he'd come back .

“You're here,” you breathed out.

“Yeah,” he replied. He gestured a gloved hand back towards the window behind himself. “You left that unlocked, so I may have just invited myself inside since you didn't seem to respond to my knocking. I hope you don't mind.”

You shook your head quickly, still surprised to see he'd actually returned. It felt like someone had loosed a multitude of butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him standing there so casually in your apartment once again. It was something you'd missed all week.

“No, that's alright,” you told him, shaking your head. “I don't mind.”

“You should really keep it locked though,” he stated. “Literally anyone could just climb in here. That's not exactly safe.”

Still trying to shake off the surprise of his visit as you took a step forward, turning off your music, a nervous laugh slipped out of you. “I think you're the only one crazy enough to climb all the way up that rickety fire escape,” you replied.

You turned, heading over towards your kitchen sink in the hopes of busying yourself with washing your hands so he wouldn't see the embarrassing grin steadily growing on your face.

“I think you might be surprised with what the criminals will do in this city,” he countered.

“Well that's…unsettling,” you muttered, turning off the faucet and drying your hands on the nearby kitchen towel. “With the way my week has been going though I suppose it would be my luck that someone probably would climb through my window. Someone other than you, I mean.”

You set the towel back on the hook near your sink, turning around only to find the Devil had stepped around the counter and into your kitchen. He was standing a few feet away, his head tilted curiously to the side. How the hell did he always manage to move so quietly?

“You're having a bad week?” he asked. “Is that why everything smells like lemon cleaner in here and why you were scrubbing your counter so hard you couldn’t hear me knocking on the window?”

Clasping your hands together in front of yourself, you fidgeted awkwardly with your fingers. Now that your hands weren't busy with an actual task you were feeling your anxious thoughts beginning to spiral again. Especially because it was only Thursday night and you still had to go into work tomorrow and deal with Eric and everyone else when all you desperately wanted to do was crawl into bed for the duration of the weekend and pretend this week never happened.

“What's wrong, angel?” the Devil asked softly.

You glanced up at the sound of the name he’d called you just before he left your apartment last time, watching as he took another step towards you. You sniffled lightly, trying to ignore the confusing and conflicting feelings arising inside of you at the nickname. The smile disappeared from his lips, his mouth instead pulling a bit downwards at the corners. Swallowing hard, you waved a dismissive hand at him.

“Nothing, things are good,” you lied. “I'm fine.”

The frown visibly deepened on his face before he took another step closer. “Someone who's fine doesn't generally deep clean their place on a random Thursday evening,” he pointed out. “And it seems like you've been on the verge of tears for a bit now. What's going on?”

You swallowed hard, wondering how he could’ve possibly known that when he’d only just entered your apartment. Yet another one of his mysterious little powers, you figured.

“Nothing,” you answered. “Really, I’m good. I just got into a random cleaning frenzy. It happens.”

The Devil’s head canted further to the side, his lips thinning along his face. He shook his head slowly, taking another cautious step towards you.

“You’re not fine,” he replied. “And for the record, I know when someone is lying, angel.”

You sighed, wrapping your arms around your chest and trying to ignore the way your stomach twisted nervously at that name again. Surely it was meant to be more of a joke than a term of endearment considering you always called him Devil.

“Another useful skill of yours?” you asked curiously. “Like your ability to heal?”

Briefly a smirk slid over his mouth, one you caught just before it disappeared. Your eyes narrowed suspiciously back at him.

“Something like that,” he answered. “So believe me when I say that I’m not buying the line that you’re okay. What happened?”

Eyes darting down, your nails began to pick at your sweatshirt nervously. The memory of your boss chewing you out at work the other day resurfaced in your mind, quickly followed by one of Eric’s heartless comments to you afterwards. The continual disappointment of an empty fire escape night after night before you went to bed also reared its head, tears starting to sting at your eyes at the memory of those lonely nights. Blinking rapidly, you tried to stop the tears from coming.

You did not want to cry in front of the Devil.

“Nothing,” you muttered, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s all stupid in comparison to what you’re usually dealing with anyway, so don’t worry about it.”

“Hey,” he murmured, closing the remaining distance between you and gently grabbing your shoulders, lowering his masked face into your line of sight. “It’s not a competition.”

His light, reassuring touch only had the tears welling up faster in your eyes. It had been so long since someone had touched you like that. With comfort and care. A touch that made you feel both safe and seen. And here he was doing it with such ease, like you deserved that sort of attention–and from him no less.

It suddenly became all too much. A single tear slipped out of the corner of your eye as you gazed up at his face half-obscured by that mask, unable to blink it back before it made its way down your cheek. The Devil’s hands carefully began pulling you in towards himself barely a second later. Surprised at his response, your arms remained wrapped around yourself as his arms slowly encircled your shoulders.

He was hugging you. Comforting you.

Somehow that managed to open the floodgates to your emotions, the tears beginning to spill down your cheeks hot and wet in a continuous stream that you couldn't seem to control. Your hands gripped your sweatshirt tighter, unsure if you should hug him in return or not. Instead, you pressed your face into the thin fabric of his black shirt, attempting to hide how fast the tears were flowing from his sight.

You weren’t exactly sure why you were even crying at this point, either. Was it because of the shitty week you’d had? Because of the gentle touch and compassion coming from the masked vigilante, a touch that you hadn’t felt since you'd last been in a relationship? Was it because of the fact that him holding you like this only stirred up those confusing feelings further inside of you, making you wonder what this weird relationship with the Devil actually was? Or was it just because you were hormonal and on your period?

“I'm sorry,” you choked out.

“Don't apologize,” he replied instantly.

The smokey voice he always used had your fingers twisting tighter around your sweatshirt, your heart beating a little harder at the sound of it so soft beside your ear. You shifted, burying your face further against his chest. Though guilt quickly filled you as you cried. Because he shouldn't be comforting you, not for something so foolish. Not when there were people out there who actually needed him and all you'd had was a bad week, some out of control hormones, and a stupid crush.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “Is there something I can do to help?”

You shook your head, begging the tears to stop falling. This was embarrassing. You didn't want him to see you like this, let alone be comforting you.

“No,” you whispered.

You have better things to be doing with your time , you thought bitterly. I don't deserve the comfort.

Clenching your jaw, you took an abrupt step back from him. You raised an arm up, using the sleeve of your sweatshirt to aggressively wipe the dampness from your cheeks. Before you, the Devil stood with his arms still hovering in the air as if he was still holding you, seemingly confused about you withdrawing from his embrace so suddenly. There was a large wet spot from your tears soaking the front of his black shirt already.

“I'm sorry, that was embarrassing,” you muttered, still wiping at your eyes as the tears gradually slowed. “I know you don't want to be dealing with an emotional mess tonight. That's not what the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen does.”

“Who says it's not what I do?” he countered, his arms lowering back to his sides. “I'm here to help people who need it–and for the record,” he added, “crying does not make you an emotional mess. Trust me on that.”

“Well,” you began, sniffling a little, “my problems aren’t the type you can punch. And you can't exactly punch away my feelings. Or my hormones. So I think this is a little out of your usual wheelhouse.”

“Maybe so,” he agreed, “but you've helped me plenty of times now. Is it wrong for me to want to return the favor?”

So that's why he was comforting you. A sort of quid pro quo. Tit for tat. An exchange of favors, not because he'd genuinely cared about what had happened to you this week and would have offered to help anyway, but because he felt like he owed you something in return. That's what he was saying, wasn’t it?

“I don't help you because I want anything in return,” you muttered, turning around and wiping the sleeve of your sweatshirt across your eyes once again. Afterwards, you reached up into a nearby cabinet and grabbed a clean glass from out of it. “I help you because I worry about you out there. And because I think you're one of the good ones.”

You closed the cabinet door before focusing on the faucet in front of you, filling the glass with cool water. Sniffling softly, you felt the tears beginning to slow to a stop as you tried to collect yourself. You’d cry about your misplaced feelings later when he wasn’t here. Right now you just wanted to enjoy his company and not scare him off with your tears. And maybe make sure he was doing alright himself tonight.

Once the glass was full, you turned off the faucet and inhaled a trembling breath, attempting to steel your resolve. You were not going to cry anymore tonight.

“For what it's worth,” the Devil said from behind you, “I think you're one of the good ones.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and shaking your head at his comment, your back still facing him. Now that sounded like a line.

“I’m serious,” he continued. “How many people would help a vigilante instead of turning him over to the police? And how many would just ignore him entirely? And here you are inviting me into your home multiple times now without question. Always offering whatever form of assistance you can when you certainly don't need to.”

Eyes dropping down to the full glass in your hands, you felt your heart flutter in your chest at his kind words. Clearing your throat, you tried to swallow the lump that had begun to form. “I think you vastly underestimate what you mean to the people in this city, Devil,” you whispered.

Gradually you turned back around, the glass of water clutched between both of your hands. His lips were once again pulled in a straight line across his face, his head faintly tilted to the side.

“You're a symbol of hope to many in Hell’s Kitchen,” you said softly, extending the glass out towards him. “A sign that there’s still good in the world. That there are still people who care about helping those in need.”

You could see the muscles working in his cheeks, the corner of his lips twitching faintly. You wondered what expression he was making beneath the mask right now. Was he not aware of what he meant to this city?

“Here,” you said, holding the glass out further towards him. “Drink it. I’m sure you’re dehydrated.”

The Devil’s right hand flexed open and shut at his side for a moment, your eyes drawn to the movement. After a minute's hesitation you saw it raise, reaching out to carefully accept the glass of water from your own hand. He murmured a soft ‘thanks’ as he drew it up towards his lips. In silence you watched the bob of his throat as he drank almost half the glass immediately, a satisfied smile eventually landing on your face.

“You hungry?” you asked, stepping around him and heading over to your fridge. “I have spaghetti leftover from dinner tonight. Unfortunately no garlic bread,” you grumbled, opening the door of your fridge. “Because my week was apparently so bad that I even forgot to grab garlic bread at the store.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” he assured you.

Half bent in front of your fridge, you glanced over your shoulder, shooting him a flat look. “Are you planning to go home and eat something before you go to sleep tonight?” you asked him. “From the fridge you have apparently only stocked with beer, eggs, and sometimes orange juice?”

He hung his head in defeat, his gaze behind the mask appearing to drop to the floor. It looked like he was fighting back a grin on his face.

“Well…no,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Right,” you said, focus returning to the contents of your fridge. “So do you eat spaghetti? Because I have plenty.”

“If you’re that determined to feed me, yes,” he answered. “I do.”

Reaching into your fridge, you pulled out the container of leftovers that you’d put away earlier this evening before you’d begun meticulously stress cleaning. You closed the door, bringing the container over to your counter and setting it down before searching for a clean bowl and a fork.

“So how’s your rib doing?” you asked as you worked. “Did your doctor friend tell you it was broken? Have you somehow meditated it back to normal already with that useful ‘skill’ of yours?”

The Devil chuckled good-naturedly behind you as you began scooping some pasta into a bowl for him. Internally you thought it strange that he found that somehow funny, though that warmth of pleasure filled you at once again still being able to make him laugh.

“She's a nurse, not a doctor, and that's hard to say,” he answered. “I’d need an x-ray to know if I had actually broken it, and I can’t exactly go to a hospital because they’d surely call the authorities on me. But either way, it’s feeling better than that night I was last here. Not completely healed with my ‘skill,’ but the pain is…tolerable.”

You stopped mid-scoop of some pasta, your head turning over your shoulder towards him. Quirking a brow at him, you shot him a quizzical look.

“The pain is ‘tolerable’?” you asked him. “So you mean to tell me you’re still going around tonight scaling buildings and jumping off fire escapes with an injury that’s not even fully healed?”

The Devil shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, shooting you a charming smile. “Yeah,” he answered. “Something is almost always injured or hurting. But it's not like crime ever takes a night off. So usually neither do I.”

Sighing, you focused back on scooping pasta into the bowl for him. “I'm starting to worry about your sanity,” you half-joked. “You know, I've always wondered why you do what you do. I don't suppose you'd answer that truthfully, would you?”

Picking up the bowl, you stepped over towards your microwave and set it inside. Setting the timer to heat it up, you turned around and leant your back against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest as you eyed him expectantly.

The Devil shook his head, a faint smile on his mouth. “No, not right now,” he answered. “But maybe someday I could answer that for you.”

Hugging your arms tighter around yourself, you tried to hide the thrill that shot through you at his answer. The prospect of him continuing to visit you was clearly layered in his response and you couldn't even begin to explain how that made you suddenly feel.

“Always so mysterious,” you muttered nervously, glancing down at your feet.

“Don't suppose you'd ever give me your name, would you?” he countered.

You grinned, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes as the microwave hummed behind you. “I'll tell you mine when you tell me yours, Devil,” you replied.

“So mysterious ,” he teased back, grinning.

You tried to bite back the smile growing on your face, laughing softly. The grin only grew wider on his face and your cheeks began to heat at the sight. You could feel your heart beating a little faster as you watched him from across the kitchen, taking in the handsome shape of his mouth and feeling the nervous churning of your stomach beginning to increase at the comfortable silence that fell over you both.

Thankfully your microwave beeped a moment later, pulling you from the moment that surely would have only resulted in you further ogling him, wondering what he looked like beneath the mask. Turning around, you opened the microwave and removed the bowl of spaghetti. You set it back onto the counter, mixing it around with a fork to make sure the entire bowl had been thoroughly heated. Satisfied that it was warm, you picked up the bowl and carried it over to the Devil.

“You can have a seat at the table if you want,” you offered, holding the bowl out to him.

You gestured your other hand to the small circular table just outside of your kitchen. The Devil accepted the bowl of pasta from you, looking somewhat over his shoulder where you'd gestured.

“Thank you,” he replied.

You watched as he twirled a handful of noodles onto his fork immediately, bringing it up to his mouth before he'd even began to make his way towards your table. It was obvious he was hungry with the way he'd shoveled the bite into his mouth–just like when he'd devoured that burrito–and that satisfied smile returned to your face. Even if you'd messed up a lot of things this week, at least you'd managed to do something helpful for him. And that felt good.

You'd been about to turn around and put away the container of leftovers still sitting out on your counter when you saw him suddenly freeze, his entire body tensing. Your own body froze as you watched him chew the bite of food so slowly, your stomach sinking to the floor.

“What?” you asked cautiously, feeling self-conscious and on the verge of tears again. Had you actually somehow messed this up, too? “Is it…not good? I mean I know I'm not the best cook or anything, but I thought I was decent at making spaghetti sauce. It's not that complicated.”

The Devil swallowed the bite of spaghetti, his body still stiff as he stood there. His hand had tightened around the fork in the bowl as he remained silent, which only had your nerves growing. The feeling of being a failure once again this week was suddenly bearing down heavily on you. Was there nothing you could do right this week?

“Look, if it doesn't taste any good you don't need to eat it,” you told him, taking a step closer and reaching for the bowl. “Apparently I just can't manage anything this week. Just one of those weeks I gu–”

“This tastes exactly like the spaghetti my dad used to make,” the Devil whispered in disbelief.

Your hand hovered in the air reaching out for the bowl, your mouth hanging open at what he'd told you. That certainly hadn't been the reaction you'd expected.

“Wh–what?” you stammered out.

The Devil pointed at the bowl of pasta with the fork in his hand, something like amazement creeping into his voice as he focused on you. When he spoke again, you'd noticed that raspy, deep voice he always used had disappeared.

“The sauce,” he told you, his words gradually picking up speed as he spoke. “It tastes exactly like the spaghetti sauce my dad used to make when I was a kid. I–I haven't tasted anything quite so similar since he passed when I was young. The likeness is incredible.”

You could feel the heavy pounding of your heart in your chest at yet another little piece of the real man beneath the mask being revealed to you. Mouth opening and closing a few times, you quickly realized you didn't know how to respond. Was he going to run away on you now that he'd let another little personal detail slip? Especially considering it looked like he was also realizing what he'd just told you and was beginning to regret it.

“I'm–I'm sorry to hear about your father,” you managed out.

The Devil continued to stare at you over the bowl of spaghetti in his hands, his lips pressing together as his mouth began to twitch. It was as if he didn't quite know what to say himself, but the longer he remained quiet, his jaw grinding back and forth, the more fearful you became that he was going to bolt back out of your window for accidentally revealing more personal information about himself to you.

Slowly you held up your hands in front of yourself like one might do to a scared animal, hoping not to scare him further. The Devil didn't move, but his jaw visibly tensed at the gesture.

“Look, I'm not about to tell anyone that you come here sometimes,” you told him. “And I don't go digging around on the internet trying to find out who you really are with the vague information I have, mostly because I don't have that level of motivation, if I'm being honest.” You saw the corner of his lips twitch upwards at your comment and you cautiously lowered your hands back to your sides. “I just want to help. That's all,” you continued. “And personally I worry that if I scare you off, you'll end up out there starving and with kidney damage from constantly not drinking enough water while you're out parkouring around the city.”

“You're worried about my kidneys now?” he asked, amusement in his tone.

You shrugged lamely, shooting him a small smile. “If I say yes will you sit down and eat that spaghetti and drink some more water?” you questioned back. “Instead of jumping out of my window like a terrified cat?”

Something like an amused snort came from him as he turned, making his way towards your little kitchen table. You relaxed when you realized he wasn't going to disappear on you.

“For the record,” the Devil told you, voice muffled around a large bite of spaghetti that he'd shoveled into his mouth, “I am not a stray cat.”

“Of course not,” you agreed, picking up the glass of water he'd already finished and set onto the counter. You brought it over to your sink and began to refill it for him. “Because a cat would know better than to keep running around and making a broken rib worse. And I'm not sure how partial they are to spaghetti,” you joked.

At the bright sound of his laughter over the sound of the running faucet, you found yourself smiling. You'd certainly missed having him here, even if you knew you were going to miss him the moment he finished that bowl of spaghetti and jumped back over your fire escape. All you could really do was enjoy the next few minutes you had with him and hope that he returned another time.

Though deep down you sort of found yourself hoping he was more like a stray cat than he let on, because at the very least, maybe the prospect of food and water would tempt him to appear again at your window sooner rather than later.

And that thought was steadily giving you an idea.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

395 notes · View notes

charmercharm3r · 2 years ago

Text

Tender Tendencies

OT8

Masterlist

Synopsis: Stray Kids' softer moments.

BANG CHAN

He has little to no free time. But that's okay, you knew what you were getting into when you met him. Spending time in the studio with him for hours on end and calling it date night was a regular routine. You'd bring something to do, work, a video game, maybe a new hobby. One time, you even managed to crochet him a beanie during the many hours he was working and you were there keeping him company.

Sometimes, though, Chan gets so engrossed in his work that he forgets you're there. With his big, expensive headphones on, fingers tapping away at his sound board or clicking his computer, it's too easy to lose himself in the music.

But when he comes back to earth after hours of not speaking a word to each other, Chan turns around in his chair to see you laying on your stomach, feet swaying in the air and focused on the game on your phone. A relieved smile spreads across his lips when you don't even seem to notice where his attention was.

Not that he tries to gain it, he just likes to watch you quietly curse to yourself when you lose or giggle coming across a funny video. He watches over your shoulder as you tap the share button and type his name to send. Chan doesn't interrupt you, but you eventually feel his soft gaze and give him a pretty smile that extends into your eyes. "I sent you something! Watch it later when you're done with work."

Chan pretends he didn't watch you replay it a few times, pretends he didn't intentionally not say anything because he loves how relaxed and carefree you seem when no one's around but him, pretends not to feel the blush on his cheeks and ears because he's so enamored.

With a warm heart, "I will," and leans over to place a gentle kiss to your forehead.

LEE MINHO

Minho is a get up early, go to bed early kind of guy. He feels rather productive in the mornings, maybe too productive for his own good. He does his little work outs, freshens up, cooks breakfast and sets up the ingredients for a two-person meal for when he returns home. It was an unspoken rule between the two of you that he does the cooking and you'll do the cleaning up.

He never asked you to, though, fully meaning to wash the pots and pans as soon as he was done so that it was one less thing for you. But this time, he forgot. Minho was too excited to let you try this new recipe he'd been dying to test. One of his favorite things was the full bodily reaction he'd get when you ate his cooking, jumping in your seat slightly and shooting him a look of pleasureful surprise as you savored the bite.

So full and content, after the both of you were done Minho had let out a long sigh and excused himself to the bathroom. When he returned, the table was cleared and the sound of the sink was running in the kitchen.

Your hair was pulled back messily, ear phones hiding what music was making you do a cute little wiggle as you scrubbed the dishes. Just seeing you so domestic and happy, it made Minho's heart ache in the best way possible.

To give you a gentle warning he was there, he put his hand on the small of your back. Acknowledging him with a smile and small, "hi."

Wordlessly, Minho takes one of your headphones and puts it to his ear. "Show me your moves," he encourages, stealing the drying rag and helping you finish the chore.

SEO CHANGBIN

The self proclaimed gym expert he is, Changbin has always had the desire to work out with you. Your job was just very time consuming, almost as much as his. However, Changbin was active for a living so working out didn't require him to use as much of his reserved energy as it did you. It felt more mentally draining than anything to even think about going to the gym.

When he did finally convince you, he was so excited. You warned him that normal exercises would be hard for you since your body wasn't used to it the way his was, but he assured you that he'd help with the pace and wouldn't push too hard too fast.

Of course it was going to hurt the next day, you just didn't anticipate how much. The night of, Changbin instructed you to take a cold shower to soothe your muscles. It helped a little, definitely making the feeling of getting into your pajamas and snuggling next to him in bed just a little bit better and warmer than usual.

The next morning, you almost didn't want to get up to even use the bathroom because your legs were so sore. Being the gentleman he is, Changbin woke up so he could carry you to the toilet. He was going to retrieve you when the bathroom door swung open to reveal you holding onto it for dear life. Legs shaking to carry your body weight, Changbin helped guide you back to bed with a sympathetic smile.

As you fell face first into the sheets, he grabbed some icy-hot soothing gel from his gym bag, kindly maneuvering you onto your back. "You did so good yesterday, baby." His voice was so soft, gentle as he poured some into his hands and rubbed them together.

His big hands spread the gel over the expanse of your legs, massaging and rolling the knots out as best as he could without hurting you too badly. "No pain no gain, right?" You sighed through your gritted teeth.

It was almost as if you were convincing yourself that it was worth it, the exhaustion and soreness was worth the time you got to spend together. Hearts in his eyes, "that's right. Tomorrow... leg day."

HWANG HYUNJIN

He wouldn't call himself a tortured artist, no. By no means was he tortured, but moreso unsatisfied with his work. The pieces he liked, he barely liked. The ones he didn't, he despised. Hyunjin felt that way with all of his art, except when it was ones that were because of you.

The watercolor blue roses? You told him your favorite movie is The Corpse Bride. That landscape? That was the view of the walk you went on together when he asked if you'd take him as your boyfriend. There were the randomest sketches littering his desk because you'd say something or make a certain face and it'd inspire him, he had to get it out of his system some how.

A particularly difficult rough patch in his creative process convinced Hyunjin that his current medium of water color and acrylic paint wasn't meant for him. He had a habit of holding in his feelings until they burst, but he opened up to you eventually. You asked him if he wanted advice or just someone to listen, to which he answered, "both."

You suggested taking a break, looking away before it was all he could see, maybe even trying a new medium. Hyunjin took all your advice to heart, voicing his only problem was that starting a new medium can get pricey. There wasn't much either of you could do.

Or so he thought.

He was locked away in his mini art studio again, staring much too intently at the blank canvas. You knocked and let yourself in. Hyunjin only looked up when you put a hand on his shoulder and sat yourself in his lap. A few chaste kisses to his cheek, you suggested your thoughts. "White sand? That works?" You explained the research you found about the subject. Amidst your little ramble, Hyunjin couldn't help but look at you in awe.

"Think I went a little overboard when I was searching it up. I also looked for other things you could use, but this was the most convenient. I stopped by the art supply store on my way over here if you wanted to try. If not, I can just return it-"

"No!" He said a little to loudly, making you jump in his lap. "I mean, no. I'll use it. I want to." The little smile on your face was the loveliest thing he'd ever seen. The only thing that could've rivaled it was the pure happiness when he gave you a painting of the shore and white wash. It was the first one he'd finished in a long time and couldn't have been prouder, "thank you for always thinking of me."

HAN JISUNG

There was very little that this man couldn't do. The workaholic homebody he is, Jisung brings his music with him everywhere. That means even in the house, he has his headphones on or his phone is up to his ear listening to whatever it is he was working on.

It also means he has trouble taking care of himself. But who doesn't sometimes? You didn't find any trouble in doing some chores here and there to help him out, Jisung always found something to do to give back for your kindness.

The one thing Jisung wasn't, was a mechanic. Lyricist? Check. Producer? Check. Musical genius? Check. Knows how to fix a washing machine? Pass...

Your place was in desperate need of renovating. It was a lot of little things that wasn't really a big deal, just an inconvenience. The washing machine specifically was getting on your nerves.

With laundry building up and your busy boyfriend finally having time to spend with you, it was a matter of what could've possibly been the best way to manage your time. The issue was that the lid of your washing machine refused to close. The only solution you could find was to sit your entire body weight on it while the cycle continued. It's been an uncomfortable past few laundry days, to say the least.

Killing two birds with one stone, you suggested Jisung bring his laundry to your place to clean, that way you help him out a little while also helping yourself. He did so without thinking about it.

Jisung started to get concerned when you didn't come back from saying you were going to wash the clothes. That was forty five minutes ago. Upon searching for you, Jisung found you with your legs criss-crossed on top of the washer, scrolling through your phone. He tilted his head at you and asked what you were doing. When you explained to him your dilemma, he was confused. Why hadn't you told him? Why were you bearing this burden by yourself? How were you still kind enough to offer to do his laundry knowing this was what you had to do?

Putting his phone away, Jisung joined you in the laundry room, standing in front of you and leaning into your lap. "What are we watching?"

"There's still fifteen minutes left on the cycle, you don't have to wait with me," you protested but still took him into your arms.

"Fifteen minutes more I get to spend with my favorite person."

LEE FELIX

Hugs are basically a second language to him, going in for one every chance he gets. When Felix hugs you, he doesn't let go. It wasn't obvious at first why he never did. You just assumed that it was because he liked skinship.

Yes, that was true. But it was also because he loved the way you smelled. Fresh out of the shower, just got back from work, sweaty from a run, it didn't matter, you always smelt good to him. He held on long enough to get a good whiff of your scent no matter the occasion.

For that reason, he hated laundry day. The smell of the detergent always washed away the smell of you, meaning Felix was all over you until his hoodies and shirts could've been mistaken for yours by anyone else.

Also for the same reason, Felix goes out of his way to buy bottles of your favorite perfume specifically for when you can't be together. He keeps a travel sized version of it in his bag for long days at the company, when he has to go overseas, or when he just misses you. Felix sprays it on his own clothes and pillows, holding it tightly to his body and pretending you're there with him.

He came back to your place after a week without seeing you, the travel bottle almost half empty now. The initial embrace lasted so long that you were almost dreaming he was in your arms. Then you got a whiff of what definitely wasn't his usual cologne.

When you asked him about it, Felix just laughed and pulled out the mini perfume from his bag. "You don't recognize it? It's yours."

"You say it like it was supposed to be obvious," you grin, fully blushing.

"It's so obvious I should be embarrassed. I'm not, how could I when you smell so good?"

KIM SEUNGMIN

Seungmin isn't necessarily averse to fashion, he knows what he likes. It just so happens that he favors the oversized look. There's also specific brands that he buys from more than others. His closet consists of so many basics that no matter what he pulls out, he can make an outfit in minutes.

That's why he loves getting ready with you in the morning. You get up before him since you typically take longer. When you're done and picking out your clothes, Seungmin always asks if you could choose his outfit as well, always reassuring that he'll love no matter what you pick.

He wears the outfit proudly every day. When one of the members compliments something he's wearing, he tells them that you chose it for him. It's his way of showing you off, even if you aren't there.

When you are with him, Seungmin's usually asking you to wear his clothes, too. Showering at his place, he makes sure to give you one of his shirts even if you brought your own pajamas. Another way to show you off. If you happen to run into one of the members in the hallway wearing his shirt, they make a point to tell you that they liked the outfit you picked out for him. Though, it's usually something more like, "you dress him better than he dresses himself."

"And they're right," Seungmin says, kissing your forehead. "Except you wear my clothes better than anyone."

YANG JEONGIN

His job doesn't end, even when he goes home. Jeongin feels this way just about all the time. Having to take off his stage outfits, his makeup, wash his face, the time it takes to shower, seems like it drags on all night long.

By the time he gets to having to apply his skin care, Jeongin's eyes are closing and is on the verge of falling asleep. Coming back into his room, you're waiting to greet him. As much as he wants to match your cheerfulness, he just can't. So he falls onto his back without so much as putting on moisturizer.

"I brushed my teeth, at least," he tiredly jokes, forcing his eyes open to watch you pace around his room. You were grabbing his usual night time essentials, putting them on the bed beside him and climbing onto his lap. You sat on his torso, preparing his step by step routine. "What're you doing?"

"Finishing up for bed," you reply, telling him to get comfortable.

Slowly and gently, you apply the essences to his skin. Jeongin hums as you massage his face, hands resting on the tops of your thighs and not letting go. He doesn't even as you finish and set the bottles aside. "Just need chapstick," you whisper, moving to get up.

Jeongin pulls you back down, peaking his eyes open to bring you down for a kiss. It's soft and sensual, unrushed and purely just feeling you. He sleepily hums again against your lips, reluctant to pull away no matter how close to drifting off he is.

By the time you do, he's rubbing his lips together, "mmm, cherry flavored."

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devils-dares · 6 months ago

Note

Super self indulgent buttt could I get some Carmy Fluff ! Maybe reader calls Carmy over for help with cleaning their apartment/needing help cooking due to executive function issues !! Or vise verse :)

thanks for getting me out of my slump, wrote this in one night :)

wordcount: 721

-----

You looked at the pile of laundry in the corner of your bedroom. Blinds closed, dirty sheets, cups and plates stacked in haphazard piles.

You haven’t taken care of yourself in days, evidence of it lay in the pimples that mar your face, and the smell of the perfume you wore into the office going rotten on your skin.

It’s time to call in the big guns, you think.

A phone call and fifteen minutes later, you hear clattering around your apartment. You sink further into your bed, embarrassment heating your cheeks, turning you red. A few windows open, and the chime of the washer rings across the apartment. You hear grumbling and movement in your kitchen, he’s looking for the lighter, the starter went out in the stove and you didn’t call to get it fixed yet. The pot scrapes against the metal grates of your stove, and you hear ingredients plonk into the water, he must be making a stew. The floor creaks under the weight of his steps, and he knocks on the door before he enters.

“Hey, Birdie.” Carmy says softly, seeing your back to the door. He straightens out piles of laundry and opens the shades just a little so he can get some light in. “Gonna warm the shower, then I’ll come get ya.” He leaves, and the pipes creak loudly before the showerhead shoots hot water.

He walks over to the kitchen to check the stew before coming to get you. He comes around the other side of the bed and smiles at you, brushing your matted hair out of your face. Extending his hand, Carmy waits for you to take it. The smile grows into a soft grin as your fingers tangle with his, and he pulls you out of bed.

“Look at ya, Birdie. So pretty.” You know he’s a liar, and he’s probably fighting off the recoil from your stench, but he lets nothing slip. You don’t speak, even as he strips you and puts you in the shower himself, or when he sits on the closed toilet lid instead of leaving the bathroom. You don’t dare speak when he tells you about the restaurant, and how he and Syd finally perfected that damn recipe. He doesn’t say anything when you shampoo thrice, or scrub til your body turns red. He doesn’t flinch when you sit under the stream of hot water for a while. He simply grabs your towel from the dryer and wraps you in it before wrapping your wet hair for you. He rubs lotion on your flaky skin and dresses you in soft clothes.

Carmy takes you to the couch, and you notice the first load in the washer is done, the blankets and pillow covers on the couch smelling like clean laundry and scent beads. He stirs the stew and then starts on your bedroom, stripping the mattress of your sheets before throwing those in the washer.

“Stew smells delicious.” You say, breaking your bout of silence since he’s been here. It’s a soft smile you get in return.

“Yeah? Michael’s recipe, called it ‘everything and the kitchen sink’.”

“Thank you, Carm.”

“Always, Birdie.” He clicks on your favorite movie, letting it distract you as he empties the dirty dishes from your room. You’re completely encapsulated in the film when he sits down next to you again, right in time for the ending. You lean forward in your seat, moving your mouth to the words said on-screen.

Carmy smiles. Your sheets were clean, clothes were in the wash. You’d showered and now you’d be eating soon. He did his job, and now he was going to dote on you relentlessly.

“You gotta go back?” You ask quietly, and he shakes his head.

“Syd and Richie can handle it. Marcus made these beautiful cakes, said he wants you ‘round to taste ‘em soon.” He says, making sure you’re thinking about the future and not wallowing in your current thoughts.

“I’ll be by.” You smile, and he can finally have some relief, you’re back in some capacity.

“I’ll tell him. Stew?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Here, just a little longer.” You say, shifting to lay against him. The tips of his fingers get that excited tingle in them.

“Long as you need, Birdie. I’m here.”

193 notes · View notes

sadhours · 1 year ago

Text

See You Again

billy hargrove x female reader

a/n: I exist guys. requests are open!

contents: 18+ minors dni, smut, oral (f and m receiving), reader thinks she might be a prostitute, p in v

summary: you’re a house keeper, and a hot professional surfer pays you to come clean his house

When you accepted the house keeping job, you hadn’t expected the guy to be sex on legs. But here you are, wearing leggings and a loose white t-shirt, buckets of cleaning supplies in each hand while you look up into the icy blue eyes of Mr. Hargrove. He’s in a sleeveless t-shirt, golden arms on display and board shorts, his hair is wavy and long. His house was huge, you knew he was a professional surfer from your quick phone calls but seeing his house, he must’ve been really good at it. Famous maybe. You didn’t know much about surf boarding, had no clue you could make this much money from it.

“Come in,” he says, opening the door wide, “Sorry. My plans got canceled but I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.”

“Oh, no,” you gush, looking around at the vast foyer as you walk in, this might have been a crew job. You curse yourself for not asking about the square footage of the place. “Don’t even worry about it.”

The house is already clean, so maybe you don’t need more people. It’ll take you a little longer than anticipated but the guys gorgeous so you don’t really mind.

“Here,” he motions towards the hall, “Let me give you a tour.”

The house was decorated pretty minimally. There’s prints of what you assume are him riding waves all over. Tall surfboards line the back wall of the living room. It’s pretty much spotless. A handful of dishes in the sink and a light film of dust on things, but it’s very tidy.

“Your house is beautiful,” you tell him, to which he waves his hand.

“Ah, thanks. It’s a blessing I get to do what I love to afford a place like this. Anyways, I’ll let you get started. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” you nod and set down your buckets.

Billy disappears and you get started with the kitchen, washing the few dishes in the sink and then tackle the stove, oven and fridge. The fridge is pretty empty, but it’s interesting to see what he’s got in it. A six pack of beer and a ton of fresh fruits and vegetables.

Eventually you make your way to the bathrooms, first the guest one which is very obviously unused and you can’t help but think that maybe he’s lonely in such a big house. You push the thoughts aside, you’re here for work. And he might be hot as all hell but you’re professional and besides, a guy that good looking has to have a girlfriend. You finish up the guest bathroom and the half bathroom before starting on the master one. It’s huge. A shower with two nozzles, two vanities, a rather large toilet room and huge bathtub with jets. You’re bent over the bath tub, scrubbing away at the dirt caked on the sides. It’s clear he uses the tub every day. He’s got candles all around it, along with a variety of epsom salts and soaps. As you bring the sponge along the dip of the tub, you feel two hands grabbing at your hips. You crane your head to see Billy standing behind you, biting his lip as he peers at your ass.

“Sorry,” he apologizes but doesn’t move his hands, your thighs start to warm. You’re absolutely frozen, speechless as he smoothes his hand over the curve of your ass and then squeezes. “Couldn’t help myself…” he muses, his breathing a bit labored.

You can tell him to get his hands off of you. Stand up, turn around, slap him across the face with your sudsy glove and storm out. But you can’t recall the last time a man’s been so forward with you and you liked the way his hands felt on you. And god, he’s so fucking gorgeous. He bends over, using the hand that’s not on your ass to move your hair back and whispers in your ear, “You have such a nice ass.”

A moan slips from your lips, causing Billy to squeeze your flesh again. His teeth catch your earlobe as he presses his strained erection against your ass.

“Is this okay?” he asks lowly, nuzzling his nose against the shell of your ear.

“Yes!” you squeak out, throat tight as you struggle to catch your breath.

Billy growls, maneuvering his hand underneath you to grope your tits as he kisses against your jaw. It’s happened so quick, you can’t believe it. Your body is aflame with arousal, your center soaking through your underwear and most likely, your leggings. His lips are soft yet firm, hungry as he litters kisses against your sensitive skin. His fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings, pulling them over your ass and taking your thong with them. He sits back on his heels, grabbing your ass with both hands and squeezing. He chuckles lowly, “You’re dripping.”

“Mhm,” you mumble out, dropping your head as he dips his head and licks up the slick coating your thighs. “Fuck,” you exhale, squeezing the sponge in your hand.

“Tastes so good,” he compliments and then circles his tongue around your eager hole. The action pulls a desperate whine from your chest. You feel trapped against the edge of the tub, his hands holding you in place as he spreads your cheeks and licks at your glistening folds. His tongue is strong, has all your nerves screaming out in ecstasy as he rolls it expertly up and down, finally prodding at your hole. Billy penetrates you as deep as he can with his tongue, his thumbs holding your lips open for more access. It’s excruciating. Not quite as deep as you need but incredibly pleasurable. He pulls back and then you feel his fingers pressing at your eager cunt. You can hear him spit and before you know it, he’s entering you with the digits. It pushes a moan from you, satisfied yet surprised. Billy pumps his fingers in and out, groaning as he watches.

“You’re gonna take my cock so well,” he forebodes, making your spine tingle in anticipation.

He angles his thick digits just right, hitting the pads of them against your spongy spot and you cry out, eyes crossing and doubling your vision. Suddenly, his thumb finds your clit and he’s rubbing it in tight, quick circles while he pushes repeatedly against that spot deep inside you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp out, squeezing your eyes shut.

Billy works quick and relentless. The pressure at the pit of your stomach is building at an alarming rate. You can’t even make yourself cum this fast. The man knows what he’s doing. And it’s something you don’t know how to do. It hits you like a ton of bricks. A rush of pleasure tearing through you as you spasm against the tub, voice wrecked with how loud you moan out. Vision goes white, a ringing in your eyes as you ride the waves. You’re panting hard and his fingers are still shoved deep inside you when you come to. Then you feel his tongue, licking up the mess you’ve made and you whine out, squirming while the grip on your hip tightens.

“Billy,” you whimper out, “too much.”

He doesn’t let up, instead moves his mouth down and sucks at your clit. You yelp, your body moving upright. You pull your gloves off, turning your body and pushing him down onto the tile floor. There’s a cocky grin on his face, looking up at you as you grab the hem of your shirt and pull it off, tossing it aside and then unhook your bra. You shimmy out of your leggings next, kicking your shoes off and make quick work of peeling Billy’s clothes off his body. When you tug his briefs down, his stiff cock pops out. The tip leaking as it slaps up against his abs. His mouth falls open as you circle your fingers around the base, squeezing slightly. His cock is beautiful. The prettiest one you’ve ever seen. Thick shaft, pulsing vein up the side of it and a plump, shiny tip. Billy lets out this breathless laugh when you squeeze him again.

“Come on,” he drawls, “you can stop staring and get your mouth on it.”

You don’t have to be told twice, lowering yourself and wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, peering up at him. Billy exhales, hand knitting into your hair while he tells you, “Atta girl.”

You swallow around him, taking him a bit deeper in quick succession until he’s prodding at the back of your throat. Breathing through your nose, you hold still as you peer up at him. He’s propped up on his elbows so he can watch, eyebrows knit together while he chews on his lower lip. His blue eyes are dark with lust and they widen just slightly as you begin to bob up and down on his pulsing cock. It’s thick, makes your jaw ache but you’re determined to give him an orgasm he’ll remember. You pull off and give kitten licks to the tip, fingers stroking his with ease thanks to the drool coating his shaft. He moans out, lips parting slightly as he rolls his hips up at you. Next, you swirl your tongue around his tip before taking him back in your mouth, humming at the salty but wonderful taste of him and absolutely loving the weight of his cock on your tongue. You lower your hand down and cradle his sack, rolling his balls in your hand which produces a particularly delicious moan from him. The timbre of his voice is intoxicating, makes you work even harder to make him cum. He knits his fingers in your hair and holds you still, jerking his hips up and forcing you to take it. A man that takes what he wants. Something you’d been needing and you didn’t even know it.

Billy chokes out another moan, “I’m close, baby.”

You don’t stop and he whines, “Fuck, you’re such a good girl. Gonna swallow every drop, huh?”

He releases, his hot spunk covering your tongue and it’s abnormal how good it tastes. You swallow it with ease and pull off, licking your lips as you peer up at him. He chuckles softly, raising his hands above his head as he catches his breath. The pair of you dress and you tuck your hair behind your ear, “I’ll uh, just finish up then.”

“Alright,” Billy smirks, a twinkle in his eyes. He leans down and kisses you softly on the lips, you try not to melt into it but ultimately fail. But he pulls away first, smacks your butt teasingly and saunters out of the bathroom.

All you have left is sweeping and mopping the expansive house. On shaky legs, you get it done before trailing to his home office. He’s at the computer, typing away when he notices you.

“All finished?” he asks as he stands, grabbing his wallet.

You nod, “Yep. It’s uh… all done.”

Billy smiles, places his hand on your waist as he guides you back to the front door. “We agreed on $250, right?”

“Uhm, yes.”

Billy opens his wallet, pulling out the bills and hands them to you, “Same time next week?”

“Absolutely,” you blush, pocketing the money. You carry your supplies out to the car and get in the front seat before you burst out in giggles, covering your face in utter disbelief that just happened.

***

Next week, you do something embarrassing. Well, you didn’t think it was embarrassing at first but when you actually show up to clean Billy’s house, you realize how foolish it was. You decided to wear an obscenely short skirt and a tank top to clean. But when you knock on the door, an angry looking redhead opens it.

“Uh, hi,” you flush, almost as red as her hair, “Is Mr. Hargrove here?”

“Mr— ew,” she cringes and then opens the door wider, “Billy! There’s a lady asking for you.”

You stand there, feeling ridiculous as you look at the girl. She’s pretty, looks a little too young for Billy but apparently that’s not any of your concern. He jogs up to the door, resting his forearm on the frame as he leans over the young girl and looks you up and down with a seductive smirk on his lips.

“This lady, is my house keeper. Come in,” he steps aside to let you in. “This is my kid sister, Maxine.”

“Max,” she corrects him with a roll of her eyes.

“Hi, Max,” you offer a polite smile. “I’ll just get to work, then.”

“We’ll be out of your hair,” he tells you, “I’m gonna go drop her off.”

You nod and walk further into the house, getting started on the kitchen. You’ve cleaned almost the entirety of the house by the time Billy returns. You’re dusting his bookshelf when you feel strong hands snake around your waist and lips on your ear.

“You usually clean houses dressed like this?” he purrs in your ear.

“No,” you admit, melting into his touch. “Didn’t know you’d have company.”

Billy snorts, “Either did I. Kid showed up on my doorstep. She does that a lot and then acts like she hates me.”

“You two seem close,” you turn to look at him.

“Getting there,” he shrugs, “Didn’t get along when I lived at home. It’s not important.” He smoothes his hand over the swell of your ass, kissing against your neck and then continues, “Wear this just for me?”

Your body ignites with desire but you don’t show it, not that easy. You continue dusting away, but you can’t help tilting your head just enough to give him more access to your skin. “Maybe,” you admit with a sigh.

Billy hums, grazing his fingertips along your bare thighs as he sloppily kisses at your neck. His touch almost has you melting, but you just keep on dusting the same row of books. He bites at your earlobe before he says, “Think you did. Want to drive me insane, don’t you?”

You whimper at the bite, eyes fluttering shut as you drop the feather duster. Billy presses his hips against your ass as he continues in your ear, “It’s working. Can’t wait to stuff you full of my cock.”

“Fuck,” you gasp, gripping onto the sides of the bookshelf as Billy grinds against you.

He mouths at your pulse point, moving his hands around to grope your chest. Your head falls back to rest on his broad shoulder, hand snaking up to lace through his sandy curls. His broad tongue licks up your neck, erection apparent through his shorts against your inappropriate skirt. Suddenly the thought hits you, this is prostitution, right? You’re going to let him fuck you against his bookshelf, mop his floors and take a handful of cash. Sounds a lot like prostitution.

“You can’t pay me,” you gasp out but make no moves to stop him from groping you.

“And why’s that?” he laughs, pinching your perked nipples through your thin top, “You’ve done such a good job. Place looks spotless.”

“Because I’m about to let you fuck me against your bookshelf,” you insist.

“If we move to the bed can I still pay you?” he teases and you whip around.

“I don’t want you to pay me for sex.”

Billy blinks at you, a curious notch in his brow as his lips twitch upwards, “I’m not paying you for that part.”

“But—“

“We agreed on two fifty for cleaning, yeah?”

You nod.

“And what did I give you?”

“Two fifty,” you reply.

His face looks pensive now, tilting his head, “Don’t ya think I would’ve gave you more if I was paying for the sex?”

You hadn’t really thought of it like that. That’s a good point, you figure. Because you really did clean and you would’ve charged the same price had you not sucked him off.

“Okay, fine,” you relent and turn back around, “you can still pay me.”

“Atta girl,” he praises as he spanks you playfully before pulling your skirt up over your ass and hooks his fingers in your panties. He peels them down and you kick them off your ankles. Then you feel the swollen head of his cock rubbing between your cheeks. You sigh out, holding onto the shelves as you spread your legs a little further. His lips are back on your neck as he swirls his tip around your eager hole. He groans, muffled against your skin while he slides the head in. It’s so lovely, stretches just right and he’s huffing the deeper he goes. His breath is hot on your face, fanning against your cheekbone and the slight minty scent raids your senses. You blink up at him, drunk on attraction. God, he’s so pretty. More than pretty. Beautiful, angelic. Golden curls against soft, clear skin and his lips are so pink. He thrusts his hips languidly but deep, holding onto your waist for leverage as he pants against your face.

“Billy,” you whine as he bottoms out, feeling wonderfully full. “Fu-uck…”

“Yeah? Feel good, kitten?” he asks, flicking his tongue against the corner of your mouth, “So perfect, taking me so well.”

“God,” you gush, rocking your ass back against his thick thighs. “So fucking good.”

“Pussy’s so tight,” he growls, low and guttural.

Billy snaps his hips harder, dragging you along his cock as he fills you so deep you feel it in your throat. It’s exhilarating. The fact that you know nothing about this man but there’s this intense, animistic connection between you. The pair of you just cannot control yourselves and that’s why you’re letting this absolutely beautiful stranger fuck you raw in the middle of your cleaning duties. It seems foolish; he’s willing to fuck you without a rubber, how many any women get the pleasure? Because it it’s a pleasure. The heat of his cock, the veins not being cushioned by thin rubber is amazing. And it feels incredibly intimate. Passionate— because it’s so rushed and desperate, that neither of you even thought about a condom.

Billy’s fingers dig into your hips while he pounds into you, panting against your face. He slides his hand down and starts working the pads of his fingers in circles against your clit. It’s over for you. If this doesn’t become a routine, you are absolutely doomed because there’s absolutely no way another man is ever going to fuck you like Billy is now. Books are tumbling down to your feet, his thrusts so powerful that your spine tingles.

“I’m coming,” you gasp, tossing your head back as your orgasm crashes through you.

“Good girl,” he purrs in your ear, “Cum all over my cock. Just like that.”

You whimper, riding out the waves that seem never ending because Billy doesn’t slow down or go easy. He grabs tighter on your hips, driving his cock in deep as he pants against your ear. Billy pulls out, painting your ass cheeks with his hot spunk. He groans as he does so, then spins you around and grabs your jaw, pulling you in for a deep kiss. You’re completely lightheaded from it and you almost collapse when he pats your thigh and asks, “Why don’t you stay for dinner?”

#billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x female reader

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oceaneyesinla · 8 months ago

Text

Helping Hand

I am convinced Sanemi would be the best partner and he would look after you so well, especially if you were struggling. Which is what inspired this fic

This is the first x reader fic I've ever written, so CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is welcome (please don't be mean to me I'll cry)

Also on AO3

Hope you enjoy!

divider by @cafekitsune

Whether you wanted to scream, cry, or burrow so far into the earth you hit magma, you weren't sure. What you were sure of was that if something didn't give soon, you were going to explode. The labours of everyday life were creeping up on you, and their weight was threatening to crush you.

Of no help was the separate pressure of your job, one you loved but one which was beginning to suck away at your spirit. You went into every shift dreading the day, and you left every shift feeling a mix of frustration and hopelessness, desperately pushing against problems you had no hope of solving.

Arriving home, you slowly fumbled with your keys, unlocking the door and taking a second before stepping over the threshold. You knew what awaited you - dirty dishes in the sink, laundry piling up in the bathroom and the boxes of your last online purchase still sitting on the bedroom floor, taunting you every time you passed them without breaking them down. You would have, if you had the energy and the motivation, but both escaped you more often than not.

A little clatter caught your attention and you were on high alert until you noticed the pair of shoes tucked beside your own in the hallway, far too big for your feet. You knew those shoes; you were with your boyfriend when he bought them.

You weren't expecting Sanemi that night, but you wouldn't complain at seeing him. All you wanted was to fall into a shower then your bed, and it would be infinitely better if his arms were wrapped around you once you had.

You stepped through into the living room and stopped dead, blinking. There, in a neat pile next to the couch, was the flattened remains of your cardboard boxes. Your little recycling box was right next to it, full of all the things you had been meaning to sort but hadn't had the chance.

A strange feeling settled in your chest as you ventured further into the apartment, following the sounds of your boyfriend moving around. Tears welled in your eyes as you hovered in the doorway to the kitchen.

Sanemi had donned yellow Marigolds, the thick muscle of his forearms almost bursting out of the rubber as he scrubbed away at the counter top. On the drying rack next to the sink, all the dishes you had let linger were washed up, and you even spotted the bowl and glass you hadn't bothered to move from where you left them by your computer. At the time, it felt easier to leave them there and then you just kept forgetting to bring them through to the kitchen.

You could hear the washing machine churning away, and you just knew that if you went into the bathroom, it would be neat and tidy again, just like the living room and the kitchen.

You couldn't help the sob that escaped you, a mix of pure relief and extreme shame forcing the emotion out of you. You were an adult, one with no dependents, no responsibility other than going to work. You were supposed to be able to do this for yourself. Part of you knew, though, that you were overwhelmed, and you had been stuck in this cycle of desperately needing help but being too ashamed to ask for it for too long.

Worried eyes met your own, and it was almost comical how Sanemi struggled with his rubber gloves, all but ripping them off so he could close the distance between you and tug you into his warm embrace.

“Hey, what's going on, Y/N? What's with the waterworks, huh?”

Through your sobbing, the only thing you could choke out was, “You w-washed the dishes.”

You weren't sure if he would understand all the meanings hidden behind those simple words, but the way he softened, stroking at your hair as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head suggested he did.

“Yeah, I washed the dishes, baby.” He kept up the comforting motion, one hand cradling your head against his chest and the other sliding up and down your back. The only sounds in the room were your quiet sobs and the gentle shushes Sanemi was releasing.

Slowly, you calmed down, relaxing into his arms and letting the steady beat of his heart fill your ears. You pressed a soft kiss to his pec, right over his heart before you pulled out of his hold, rubbing at your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt.

A warm hand cupped your face, and a rough thumb gently wiped a couple of tears from the apple of your cheek. You looked up to meet Sanemi’s eye and found him already staring down at you. Heat pooled in your cheeks at the steady attention and he smiled in response, patting your cheek.

“Go and shower, baby. I'll get some food ready for when you're done.”

You tried to protest; he had already done more than enough, but he just brushed off your fretting, turning you around and giving you the gentlest of pushes, “Don't make me carry you in there.” You looked over your shoulder at him, and he was still wearing that fond smile.

Another couple of tears slipped down your cheeks, but instead of sadness, your overwhelming emotion was love. Your own lips turned up into a smile, your first genuine one of the day, ��Thank you, Sanemi.”

***********

You felt a million times better after your shower, and when you stepped out from under the spray, you realised Sanemi had already set out clothes for you to put on - your favourite sleep shorts, and one of his t-shirts. You smiled as you slipped the t-shirt over your head; you could faintly smell his laundry detergent.

Sanemi looked up as you padded into the living room, towel around your shoulders like a cape. Two plates were on the table in front of him, and of course your angel of a boyfriend had cooked your favourite. You sat down with a smile, tummy rumbling - you hadn’t had chance to eat at work, the shift too busy for you to step away for even a moment.

Sanemi watched you take the first few bites before starting his own, seemingly satisfied that you were taken care of. After a minute of silent enjoyment, he posed a question, eyes watching you for a reaction, “Wanna talk about it?”

Immediately, you were shaking your head. You wanted to do anything but think about everything bogging you down, at least for now. For the first time in weeks, you felt truly relaxed, soothed by your sweet boyfriend and his endless care for you. You knew you would need to talk about it eventually but right now, you just wanted him and a little bit of normality.

“Alright then. Hey, did I tell you about Sumi’s gymnastics competition?” You had to smile as Sanemi updated you on everything going on in his sibling’s lives. He was such a good big brother; always so invested in them and their hobbies, making sure they had everything they could want and more.

When you were both finished with your food, you tried to collect up the plates, but your hand was batted away before you could even get close. Sanemi did the job instead, leaning over to kiss your head as he passed you, heading into the kitchen. Following him, you squeaked in shock as he lifted you up, sitting you on the counter with a smirk, “Sit pretty and keep me company, yeah? How’s Kanae?”

You were well aware he didn’t need you to tell him that - she was a teacher at the same school as him, and they were good friends before you even met him. In fact, it was her who introduced you. The gesture was appreciated, though. He was giving you something easy to talk about, something light and happy.

It worked, too. You told him all about your recent shopping trip, and the meal you went out for and he listened to it all with a smile on his face. So invested in your story, you barely noticed him finish washing up and so you jumped when his hands landed on your thighs, his torso slotting between your legs. His palms were warm as they slowly travelled over your skin, relaxing you further with every pass.

“Ready for a movie in bed? Your pick.”

You suggested your favourite movie, grinning when he nodded. He lifted you up, patting your thigh as a prompt to wrap your legs around him. You loved when he did this; carrying you around with strong arms, holding you close. He deposited you on the bed before heading to the bathroom, leaving you alone. As your eyes scanned the room, you felt like crying all over again - the sheets under your body were fresh (and your favourite) and he had even dusted your shelves and the trinkets you kept there. All of his work must have taken hours, and he had done it all without you saying a word. You always thought there was no way you could love him more, and he always managed to prove you wrong.

You settled yourself under the covers, snuggling into the fresh smelling duvet with a satisfied smile. It didn’t take Sanemi long to return and you let your eyes wander over his exposed muscles. He was so beautiful, and he had a heart to match.

He set up the movie and put the remote on the bedside table before sliding under the covers next to you. He pulled you closer, arms wrapped around you as he manoeuvred you into a comfortable position. When he was done, you were practically on top of him, head over his heart and his hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. A yawn escaped you as you breathed in the scent of his body wash and he let out a little laugh.

Yeah, you were tired, but you needed to know, “Why did you come over today? Not that I mind, but …” In all honesty, you had been trying to hide just how much you were struggling. Sanemi already had enough on his plate between his teaching job and his responsibility to his family. You didn’t want to be one more burden.

“I could tell something wasn’t right. You haven’t been as bright lately. Plus, you always end up humming when you’re concentrating, and you haven’t done that in weeks.”

He really paid that much attention? The humming was an old habit, and even you only noticed its absence after it made a reappearance.

“Sanemi …” You didn’t know what to say. Were there even words for how you felt right now?

His hand never stopped its steady stroke along your spine, even as his arms tightened around you a little, “You don’t need to say anything, Y/N. I love you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.” You felt a little chuckle rumble through his chest, “Now go to sleep - I can see your eyes drooping.”

He was right - between his soothing touch and his warm hold, you were quickly being lulled into sleep. You snuggled further into his chest, pressing a kiss over his heart as you mumbled, “Love you too.”

The last thing you heard before sleep overtook you was a quiet, “Sleep well, baby.”

#sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #shinazugawa sanemi #demon slayer #kny #kny fanfic #demon slayer fanfic #sanemi shinazugawa x reader

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ms-demeanor · 1 year ago

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Okay but also putting the panic aside part of what is going on here is that I'm feeling stressed because I'm feeling helpless; I could be cleaning right now but I am at work so it's just a thing that's sitting there hovering over me and filling me with anxiety so ignoring the specifics of my weird timing and odd mess situation, here's the "So You're a Disaster Guide to Preparing Your Home for Guests"

Here are the things you should be able to offer your overnight guests:

A clean and comfortable place to sleep with clean sheets, pillows, and blankets.

A clean and sanitary bathroom with towels (and, optionally, toiletries)

Depending on the space you've got, a comfortable place to spend time outside of the area they will be sleeping in (this may also be your primary socializing or relaxing space)

Access to clean dishes and a source for (at the very least) water (and possibly snacks/drinks/meals depending on the length of the stay and your relationship to your guests).

Here's a quick guide to providing those things in the shortest amount of time possible based on order of importance.

Make sure that you've got clean bedclothes and towels for your guest; if you do not have these things immediately at hand your first priority is doing a load of laundry to get clean towels, sheets, and blankets for your guest [and wash bath mats if necessary].

Tidy the area they will be sleeping in by clearing away clutter. Your goal is to achieve an unobstructed sleeping surface (so if they're sleeping on a fold-out couch or a futon in a shared space make sure that it will require minimal effort to turn into a bed when they are ready to sleep; if they are sleeping on an air mattress move any furniture blocking the mattress out of the way and inflate the mattress then make the bed; if they are in a guest room make sure that anything stored on or near the bed is cleared away then make up the bed). Provide a space for your guest to put any travel bags and provide a place near their sleeping area for them to put their phone/medications/glass of water/etc. that they may need in the night. [This is where you stop and move on to the next area unless you have lots of time. If you have lots of time, completely sweep or vacuum the floor of your guest's space, dust the room, and ensure that there is a power strip or phone charger handy for your guest]

Make sure the bathroom they will be using is clean and functional (it's actually a tossup for me about whether you clean the bathroom or the sleeping area first; I'm less willing to clean a bathroom while guests are present than a sleeping area so I'd say bathroom first honestly). My recommendation for this is to do things in the following order (make sure the space is well ventilated): - Spray a cleaning solution in the tub or shower, focusing on any problem areas. - Let that sit while you spray the same cleaning solution in the sink. - Let that sit while you use a brush and your preferred toilet cleaning solution to scrub the toilet bowl. - Use a brush or sponge to scrub the shower/tub then rinse the shower/tub. - Use a brush or sponge to scrub the sink then rinse the sink. - Use a cloth with a cleaning solution or a cleaning wipe to clean the exterior of the toilet - Use a cloth to wipe down any surfaces like the countertop - Place fresh hand towels in the bathroom - Sweep and spot-mop the floor then empty the trashcan and spot clean the mirror tada clean bathroom [This is where you stop and move on to the next area unless you have lots of time; if you have lots of time do a full mop of the bathroom floor, clean the mirror, and dust any surfaces that need it]

Clean the kitchen in the following order: - Put away any clean dishes - Clear countertops of clutter - Wash any dirty dishes or load them into the dishwasher so that the sink is clear and rinse the sink - Use a cloth with a cleaning solution or cleaning wipes to wipe down countertops, dust appliances, and do a quick wipe-down of the range. - Place fresh hand towels in the kitchen - Sweep the floor and empty the trash [This is where you stop and move on to the next area unless you have lots of time, if you have lots of time mop the floor, do a deep clean of countertops, clean and sanitize the sink, check whether your refrigerator needs to be cleared of aging food or have any spills cleaned up, clean the kitchen range, and clean the oven door]

Prepare a living room for your guests in the following order: - Make sure there are clear seats available for at least every adult who will be in the household; pick up and put away crafts, toys, or projects that may be in the way of visitors. - Clear the surfaces of tables next to any seating options so that a seated person could easily set down a drink; consider placing coasters on each of these surfaces so they are handy if someone wants one. - Sweep or vacuum the floor as needed. [This is where you stop and move on unless you have lots of time; if you have lots of time consider vacuuming the creases of furniture, dusting shelves and surfaces in the room, and possibly cleaning the windows.]

My approach to this is basically "if you were picking someone up from the airport at midnight and bringing them back to your home, would they be able to get ready for bed and comfortably go to sleep right away?" which is why things are prioritized the way they are. Things would be different if I were cleaning in preparation for a party or if I were having people over for dinner, this is just the 'clean a house after you get off work and before you get in the car to go to LAX' list.

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saintship · 1 year ago

Note

i see a lot of ghost coming home to reader after a long mission but what about nurse!reader coming home to ghost after an exhausting shift at the hospital they work at? thank you 💓

CUTE

I tried a bit of characterization here; I believe he would do this in a way that seems blunt but is really very meaningful and premeditated. He’s more comfortable with acts of service than nearly any other showcase of vulnerability.

It’s a Given - Ghost x gn!reader

Simon wasn’t big on phone calls; the only reason you picked up the phone in the middle of your shift.

“Hey. Y’Alright?”

“Yeah, is everything okay?”

“Im just fine. Wanted to make sure you hadn’t collapsed.”

“Well, don’t hold your breath..” you shift your weight, the soreness in your feet and legs aching.

“You’re sweet, but I’m in the middle of a shift.” You speak gently. It pains you to discourage him from calling, but even now, the other residents were staring.

“Right, right, sorry. I’ll see you when you get home?”

“That’s right. I love you, Si.”

“Love you, sweetheart.”

“We need an ABG on a combatant child in 106.” A doctor approached you, handing you the child’s chart.

“On it, thank you.”

Aside from that eight year old girl nearly smacking the needle out of your hand, your shift was more of a drag than stressful. Until, of course, 20 minutes before it ended. Four rapid responses, a code blue, and a violent patient escaping into the lobby, all after another. After those 20 minutes became an hour, you finally caught a gap to leave. You were lucky your car had given out in the garage that morning; if you’d tried to drive instead of taking the bus, you’d be back in that hospital right now.

The sight of your apartment door was almost enough to make you cry. It opened before you could reach for your key, Simon greeting you in sweatpants and a white T shirt. His casual wear along with his mussed hair pulled a smile over your tired features.

“Hi..”

“Hey. Come in, you look like you’ll faint.”

You took his outstretched hand and let him unlace and tug off your boots after shutting the door with his foot.

“I’ve got some dinner for you for after you shower.”

He rose to take your hands again as you rested your back on the wall.

“Thank you..”

“Course.”

Each time he did things like this, took care of you, he always seemed a twinge surprised when you thanked him. As if it was a given; you had a long shift, so he’d look after you. Simple as that.

“Towel’s in there with some clothes.” He nodded with his head to the bathroom.

Since a thank you seemed to pass over him, instead you leaned up and kissed the bridge of his nose gently, right over the scar there, before pressing a proper one to his lips. His hand cradled your head like clockwork, like the both of you were falling into place.

You heard the beeps of the microwave from the bathroom as you rid yourself of your scrubs. The clothes he’d picked included a shirt of his, which made you smile. It was an SAS issued long sleeve from his early days, but still comfortable on you. The hot water washed away the sweat that prickled the back of your neck, the smell of your body wash soothing your senses after hours of a sterile environment.

You wandered into the kitchen still towel drying your hair, unable to resist being near Simon when you finally had the chance again.

“I forgot you still had this.” You tug at the shirt, a warm light in your eye.

“I don’t wear it, but you do. So I keep it.”

He handed you a leftover portion of the recipe you’d both made together the previous night, entirely distracting each other from what was a simple instruction list.

You lean against the counter to eat, Simon wandering behind you to hug your waist.

“I really do appreciate it..you make it easier. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably just pass out in my scrubs and wake up feeling worse.”

“I know.” he replies gently. Knowingly. “But I won’t let that happen.”

He sets your empty dish in the sink, guiding you by hand to the bathroom to join you in brushing your teeth. You’d told him once it was easier to do something hard when he was doing it too, and you’d never had to repeat yourself. He also had a habit of ‘making sure his breath was clean’ by kissing you, which never failed to make you smile. He could be such a dork, and it made your chest hurt with affection.

“You still want to read, or are you too tired?” He asked softly, guiding you to bed.

“I can listen for a bit. I really like when you read.” You reply, settling under the sheets. He stood at his nightstand drawer, sifting through it. “Which one tonight, doc?”

You huff at the nickname, though smiling a bit.

“Pride and Prejudice.”

“Y’go soft when you’re tired, eh?”

“Shut up.”

He grinned, and the sight of it could fuel you for a week’s worth of shifts.

“Alright..” He settled in beside you, lifting one arm to drape over top of you. Your head rested at the soft bit of his hip, toying with the woven bracelet on his unoccupied hand.

“‘No,’ said Darcy.” Simon began. “‘I have a made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding..’”

When Simon glanced over at you, you were asleep. He set down the book soundlessly, his heart swelling at the way you held onto his forearm in your sleep, and eventually dozed off himself.

It felt like a given.

#cod requests #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley x gn reader

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ourfag · 3 months ago

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it’s sometime after midnight and ed’s been lying there staring at the ceiling bc he’s too hungry to fall asleep and suddenly he remembers their fridge is full of food and he can literally go and have a snack right now and it’ll be fine so he gets out of bed to eat shredded cheese directly out of the bag while staring blankly at their fridge magnets (the correct way to eat shredded cheese) but on his way to the fridge he has to walk past the sink that’s got the dirty pots they used for dinner just soaking in there full of dish soap and tomato water and while he’s eating his cheese he keeps thinking about it and grossing himself out and finally decides it’s too nasty to ignore so he rolls his sleeves up and turns the light on and gives them a good scrubbing but now he’s just standing there washing dishes in silence which he’s never been any good at so he puts on some music and the thing is when he’s doing chores to music he always finds himself doing a little dance to it just enough to get his blood pumping so after he wipes down the sink basin he grabs a cup to fill with cold water in the bathroom (the bathroom sink water tastes better than the kitchen sink water and he doesn’t know why but he will stand by this) but in between gulps he notices a big splotch of toothpaste on the faucet so he wets a paper towel and wipes that off and while he’s at it he polishes up the rest of the sink as well but there’s some crevices he’s having trouble getting into so he retrieves a toothbrush from his Used Toothbrushes That He Won’t Throw Out Because They’re Useful For Many Other Things and tackles the crevices with enough force that he has to refill his water cup and once he’s given the sink a decent sweep all around he figures since he’s already got the toothbrush out he might as well lay a towel down for his knees and work on the grout because unfortunately the bathroom has a couple of corners that get no foot traffic and you can see what color the grout was before it got all grody so he’s down there toothbrushing peroxide into the bathroom floor when stede toddles in for a midnight pee and halts in the threshold still half asleep blinking and frowning at ed while ed stares up at him with toothbrush frozen in his hand and stede asks, very quietly, “what’re you doing?” and ed says, equally quietly, “i’m doing the grout”

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atzjieun · 5 months ago

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kimchi stew

summary | seonghwa gets a surprise right after waking up

circa | november 2019

contains | 0.7k words, fluff, just a cute seongji moment

note | trying out a shorter scenario for a change!

For the first time in a while, Seonghwa woke up late.

Being thrust right into endless practices for their year-end performances right after comeback promotions must have taken more of a toll on his body than he thought. The first thing he noticed after grabbing his phone was the time, cringing at the fact that it was already past noon and he’d only just woken up. Luckily, the only thing he had scheduled for that day was a group practice meant to take place in a couple hours, so he still had some time to get some other things done before then.

Seonghwa rolled out of bed, letting out a yawn as he walked out of his room. The moment he stepped into the hallway, he was hit by the pleasant smell of food that floated around the entire apartment. Curious, Seonghwa made a detour toward the kitchen.

Standing at the sink was Jieun, donning a blue apron over her pajamas and bright yellow rubber gloves. Her headphones were on, obliviously humming along to whatever song she was listening to while scrubbing a cutting board.

A smile made its way onto Seonghwa’s face as he stepped into the kitchen, waiting a few seconds before tapping the girl on the shoulder. Jieun turned her head in surprise before pulling off one of her gloves, using her free hand to take her headphones off.

“Hi oppa,” she greeted him with a small smile. “Sleep well?”

Seonghwa nodded, glancing over at the pile of clean dishes, noting the various pots and pans on the drying rack. “Did you cook something?”

“Just kimchi stew,” Jieun replied. “The others left early so they’re just going to eat out.”

She quickly avoided his gaze and put her glove back on. He nodded slowly as she went back to scrubbing the cutting board in her hands. Although suspicious, Seonghwa refrained from inquiring further.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m just going to wash up, then let’s eat together.” Jieun gave a small hum, not sparing him a glance.

“Ok.”

By the time Seonghwa got back from the bathroom, Jieun had already finished washing the dishes and set up the table for the two of them. She sat in her chair, patiently waiting for the boy to take his own seat. The pot of kimchi stew was placed in the middle of the table, still steaming along with the two plates of rice.

“Thanks for cooking, Jieunie,” Seonghwa said with a grateful smile as he transferred some of the stew onto his plate. Jieun just hummed, eyes focused on her own plate, though she’d occasionally sneak glances up at the boy to see his reaction to her food. His eyes lit up as he took his first bite. “This is really good!”

A shy smile spread across her face, which she tried to conceal as she took a bite herself. Jieun nodded, her shoulders relaxing a bit before she continued to eat.

The two sat in silence for a while, though Seonghwa couldn’t shake the feeling that the girl was hiding something. He’d feel her eyes on him as he ate, though when he looked up, she’d immediately turn back to her food.

Eventually, curiosity got the best of him, and he spoke up.

“Alright, what’s up?” Jieun glanced up at him mid-chew with a confused expression. “It feels like you wanna say something.”

She swallowed her food before looking back down at her plate, pushing her rice back and forth with her spoon.

“No, I’m good.”

Seonghwa leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow at the girl. Slowly, she lifted her head, eventually meeting his gaze. After a few seconds of back and forth eye contact, Jieun sighed and put her spoon down.

“You always make me lunch,” she said quietly, playing with her hands in her lap. “And you’ve been working so hard lately, so I thought I’d make you food.”

After a second of processing what she said, a warm smile spread across Seonghwa’s face.

“That’s really sweet of you, Jieunie.”

The girl shrugged in response, as though she was dismissing her own actions. “You always do it for me.” She picked up her spoon, hesitating for a moment before going back to eating. Seonghwa watched the girl with a fond expression.

“Thank you,” he eventually said. “I really appreciate it.”

Jieun only gave a single nod, though Seonghwa noticed the slight tinge of red in her ears as the girl carried on eating. His gaze lingered on her for a couple more seconds before he picked up his own spoon, allowing the two to continue their meal in comfortable silence.

taglist: @teezingsiyeon

#jieun.story #9th member of ateez #ateez 9th member #ateez addition #fake kpop idol #kpop oc #kpop addition #fictional kpop idol #ateez oc #fictional kpop oc #ateez imagines #seongji

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hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 9 months ago

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wash it first

Pairing: Han Jisung x f.reader

genre: smut

word count: ~2.5k

synopsis: you ordered yourself a little something to help you when jisung was away on tour, but he saw it before you could hide it.

warnings: established relationship- toys- phone sex- masturbation- pet names- squirting

masterlist

You picked the box up off of your welcome mat and carried it inside. You had never ordered anything like this before, so you were nervous how it would come. But the box is just blank, unmarked in any way and that made you happy. The post man doesn’t need to know what you’re up to. You placed the box on the counter and very carefully cut the tape with a pair of scissors. You removed the bubble wrapped item from its cardboard prison and slowly unwrapped it, examining your purchase. It was pink, which you loved. Made of silicone, so it was bendy. It had a suction cup at the base of it, and a few veins that run up and down the length. It seemed like the perfect size, about the size of your boyfriends cock, which is what you wanted. Since it was specifically purchased to help keep you company while Jisung was away, you tried to get it as close as possible to the real thing. Of course, nothing can compare to him, but you wanted something. Anything to get you through the lonely nights without him.

You stuck it to the kitchen counter, making sure the suction cup was attached. You just stared at it, standing straight up amidst the dish soap and the coffee machine. You gave it a good slap, and then giggled at yourself when it sprung back to its original position, still firmly suctioned to the counter. You wanted to try it out. You decided to shower first and get ready for bed before you tested it. You left it on the counter and headed to the bathroom. Placing your phone next to the sink, you turned on the newest stray kids album to listen to while you showered. It helped you miss him less if his voice filled the room. Steam surrounds you as you scrub shampoo into your scalp, singing along. After a dangerously slippery dance break, you shut the water off and stepped out.

Wrapped in a towel, you started your skin care when your music suddenly cut off. The phone vibrated against the counter. You looked down to see your boyfriends picture filling the screen, the FaceTime call from him ringing. You gasped, excitedly picking the phone up and hitting the accept button. "Hi baby!" You squealed at him, so happy to be talking to him.

He laughed. "Hi, honey. You’re just as excited to see me as I am you."

You nodded. "Tell me everything. How are you? How are the boys? Are your shows going good? I bet you’re exhausted." You’re rambling as you walk through the house, shutting off the lights before heading to bed.

"The guys are good, shows have been amazing. I am pretty ti—." He paused as you turned off the kitchen light. "Baby, turn that light back on."

Oh shit. In all the excitement of seeing him on your screen, you forgot about your recent purchase, still standing at attention on the counter. Your cheeks turned a deep shade of red.

"I was just getting ready for bed, Ji. I want to lay down and talk to you." You said, trying to play it off.

"Y/n I said turn the light back on." He was stern. Embarrassed, and with your back to the wall so he couldn’t see what was on the counter, you flipped the light back on.

"There. It’s back on. Can I go to bed now?" You asked, not making eye contact with him.

"Show me the counter."

"Why? It’s the same counter that was here when you left. I’m really tired." You started walking out of the kitchen toward your bedroom.

"Don’t you dare. Baby, show me the counter or I’m hanging up the phone right now."

You sighed, defeated. You slowly turned around, cheeks bright red, your new dildo suctioned to the counter behind you. You covered your face with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone. He was quiet. Too quiet. You were scared that you were in trouble. "Han I’m sorry, I just really miss you when you’re gone and I thought it might help me at night when I get lonely without you and you’re busy at a show- I’ll get rid of it. It was a stupid idea- please don’t be mad. I’m sor—"

"Baby, baby." He cut you off. "I’m not mad."

You looked at him from above your fingertips. "You’re not?"

"Not at all. Actually.. that’s so hot." He said, his cheeks flushing a light pink. "You don’t have to keep something like that from me. I don’t mind if you have a little alone time when I’m not there to help you."

"That’s exactly why I bought it." You tell him. "I tried to get it as close to the real thing as possible."

"Show me." He says. "Get closer so I can see if you did a good job." He laughs.

You flip the camera around and bring it close to the toy, showing him as best as you could.

"You did good, sweetheart. It looks pretty similar. Though I don’t think it will compare." He laughed again.

You flipped the camera back to your face. "Oh, I know it won’t. But I wanted to try. I need something. I miss you so much."

"Aw I miss you too baby." He smiled at you, his eyes sparkling with love, and… mischief? He had something happening in his mind right now, you knew it. "Have you tried it yet?" He asked. Ahh there it is.

"Uh, no. I just got it today and I took a shower before I was going to try it. But you called and I forgot about it."

"So you were getting ready to try it and I interrupted?" He asked.

You nodded. "But I’d rather talk to you, I’ll try it another time."

"Or.." he looked a little nervous now, his hand pulling at the back of his neck. "You could still try it now."

"But- I’m talking to you right now. This is more important. I don’t know when I’ll get to talk to you again." You tell him.

"Baby, you’re the sweetest. I really love you." You smiled at his words. "But what I mean is, you could try it now.. with me on the phone."

Those words made your cheeks heat, and wetness to pool between your legs. You weren’t sure what to say. Were you brave enough to do that? You’ve always been so shy, especially when it comes to sex. But Han always made you feel so comfortable, you knew it would be okay.

"If you don’t want to, that’s not a big deal." He said, sensing your apprehension.

"No, I want to." You say, nervously. And then you just stand there, unsure of what to do next.

"Are you sure, baby? You really don’t have to if you don’t want to."

"I promise I want to, hannie. Want you so bad." You say quietly, looking at the ground. He groans on his end of the line. He could feel his erection pressing against his pants.

"Okay, honey. Wash it first, and then take it into the bedroom, yeah?" His voice was soft. He always got like this during sex and you loved that about him. You knew that he sometimes wanted to be the one on the receiving end of the soft tone and gentle commands but you haven’t been able to provide that for him yet. You would though, you were determined to, and he was being very patient. You pulled the toy off of the counter and washed it briefly before bringing it to the bedroom, finally shutting off the kitchen light as you left. Once in the bedroom, you stilled, unsure of what to do next, waiting for his instruction.

"Now prop the phone up on the floor against the wall, facing the bed." You did as he said. "Good, now sit on the floor next to the bed and look at me, baby."

You knelt on the ground next to your bed, dildo in hand, and looked at him.

"You going to take that towel off and show me your pretty body?" He asked. You pulled at the towel and let it pool on the floor around you. "There you go, baby. You’re so beautiful. You can put the toy down for now and just show me how you play with yourself, yeah? Play with your nipples baby, show me."

You slowly ran your hands up your body until you reached your breasts. You palmed them, lightly squeezing. You brought one hand to your mouth, and sucked on a couple of your fingers.

"Fuck baby, you’re so hot." Han breathes through the phone. You smile and bring your wet fingers down to your nipple, circling it until it peaks. You tug on it gently and close your eyes at the sensation.

"I miss you so much, hannie. Wish you were here touching me." You whine.

"Me too, my love."

You bring your wet fingers to your other nipple giving it the same treatment. You tug on them both and let out a soft moan.

"Show me your little pussy, baby." He says. You sit down on your butt, and spread your legs for him. He groans at the sight of you. "I can see you glistening." He bites his lip. "Show me how wet you are, use your fingers and get yourself ready, just like I would." You bring your hand down to your core, and dip your middle finger slightly into your entrance. You pull it back out again and swirl your finger around in your juices, making a wet sound for him. "That’s it baby, you’re so perfect. Rub your little clitty for me too, yeah?"

You nod and bring your wet fingers to your swollen bud. You rub slow circles, your eyes closing, your head falling back as soft moans escape your lips.

"Baby use your other hand and grab that toy." He tells you. You do as he says, and when you look back at him, he’s got his cock out. He’s slowly fucking his fist, his tip red and swollen and leaking precum onto his fingers. "Use your mouth, get it nice and wet." You bring the toy to your lips and lick the tip. You slowly lick from the base to the head, feeling the veins bulge on your tongue. You slip it into your mouth now, lightly sucking. "Make sure to get it all baby." He says, pumping his cock a little faster. You push the dildo into your mouth as far as you could, choking when it hit the back of your throat.

"Fuck, yes baby. Do you think it’s ready to go in your tight little pussy now?"

You pull it from your mouth and nod at him.

"Suction it to the hardwood floor and squat above it, okay?" He instructs. You stick it to the floor and make sure it is firmly attached before squatting above it and lining yourself up with the tip. "Lean back against the bed to support yourself, baby. Grab on to the edge." You spread your arms out across the edge of the bed and grip the sheets in your hands. "Now ease down on it, go slow."

You lower yourself onto the toy, slowly pushing it inside of you. You could feel it stretching you. "Hannie.." you moaned.

"I know, baby. You’re doing so good. Does it feel good?"

"So good." You moan, fitting as much of it inside as you could in this position. "Feel so full."

"Shit, you’re so sexy, angel. So perfect. Fuck your little pussy for me." He groans as he fucks his fist faster.

You slowly bounce up and down on the toy, the sound of your moans mixing with the wet sound of your arousal as it slides in and out. It did feel pretty similar to the real thing, but nothing would ever compare to having Jisung above you, his muscles flexing, panting as he pumped into you. The thought of it made you clench around the toy. "Hannie.." you whimpered. You opened your eyes and looked at him. He had his eyes locked on your pussy, groaning as he pumped up and down on his cock. You watched him, feeling that familiar feeling in your tummy.

"You like watching me too, baby?" He asked. "I love watching you. You’re so beautiful. So sexy. So- ugh- fucking perfect." He moaned.

You tightened more at the praise. "Hannie.. gonna cum." You tell him.

"Me too, angel." He moaned. "Cum for me. Please, baby. You going to squirt, like last time? Please? Close your eyes and picture me." You did as he said, conjuring the same image as before. Him above you, covered in a light sheen of sweat as he fucked into you. "I can practically feel you around me, baby. So tight and warm. I love your little cunt. Such a good good girl, letting me watch you like this. You going to cum for me angel? Please cum for me."

His words pushed you over the edge. You pushed down on the toy one last time before lifting up until it was completely out of you as your orgasm hit. Your cum came flooding out of you, a few drops shooting toward your phone, the rest pooling on the floor. You legs were trembling as you moaned his name over and over. Your vision was blurry, your arms giving out. You slumped to the floor, your butt in the mess you made, your back against the bed. You panted and mumbled incoherent ‘thank you’s as you recovered from your high.

"Shit, baby girl."

You opened your eyes to see that he had finished also. He had pulled his shirt up, and his cum now covered his muscled abdomen. He leaned out of frame for a moment and returned with a tissue in his hand, cleaning himself up. "Are you okay, baby?" He asked. "You came really hard. Made such a mess." He was grinning like an idiot as he looked at your fucked out frame slumped against the bed. "I was worried you were going to fall over and I wouldn’t be there to help you. Maybe next time, we try a less dangerous position." He chuckled.

"I’m good. So so good." You tell him. You move to stand, grabbing for the towel.

"Careful baby. Don’t slip." Han watches you as you use the towel to clean up your mess, your cheeks red.

"I’m still embarrassed that I do that sometimes." You confess.

"Embarrassed about what? That you squirt sometimes?" He asks. You nod, unable to look at him. You pick up the phone and head to the bathroom. "There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, honey. I think it’s so sexy."

"Really?" You ask.

"I promise. I wish I was there to have felt it around my cock and on my legs." You blushed even further. He laughed. "You’re so sweet. I wish I could hug you and make sure you know how amazing you are."

You used the restroom quickly and headed to bed. "I love you, hannie." You said quietly into the phone, sliding under the covers.

"I love you too." He replies, kissing the phone a few times in quick succession.

You giggled at him and said, "Now tell me how tour is going."

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

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