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esmedelacroix · 1 year ago

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Coffee Shop Love: Sweet Tooth

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: It's Christmas Eve and Miguel has a different kind of Christmas gift in mind...

contents: no use of y/n, not proofread, kinky, food play, oral f!receiving, cum play, cum eating, fingering f!receiving, sweet fluffy aftercare

author's note: Hey lovies, this is a Sequel to the series I just finished recently, Coffee Shop Love, wanted to try something new and write something kinky and whorenee, I'll get better at smut with time but hope you like...

word count: 1.6k

Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt. 5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Sequel: Sweet Tooth

You heard your house door open and close followed by the clatter of Miguel's car keys hitting the ceramic bowl at the entrance of your apartment. "I got your whipped cream you little psycho," he joked as he placed the grocery bag on your kitchen table.

"Thank you, hon'," you whispered sweetly as you got on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Just an hour earlier you were on the verge of tears because you had no whipped cream and the gingerbread house you were making and, "everything would be completely ruined," You had told Miguel that it wasn't Christmas Eve if you didn't have a meltdown anyway.

You and Miguel had been together for weeks now. All you could say about being with Miguel was that it was like being happy every day. There was not a single day where you had nothing to look forward to because you knew he'd either come to the shop or sleep over if you begged him enough. And the sex? Well, it was mind-blowing. You thought Miguel would be more of a vanilla guy in bed but you were poorly mistaken.

You now know to never judge someone's sex life by their age. Sex with Miguel had you wondering if you had ever truly orgasmed before. When you did it with him it felt different from any other time. When he made you orgasm it felt like you were in a whole new universe on top of the world. He was anything but vanilla and he took note of things you liked.

"You like that?" he grunted in your ear after he had spanked your bare ass as you bounced on him. You nodded your head frantically, begging him to do it again.

As the night went by you both decided to get in bed a little early to give Santa some time to drop your gifts off. You got into your bed and waited for Miguel to come back from the kitchen. He soon walked into the room hiding something behind his back. You sat up trying to get a better look at what he was up to. "What's behind your back, Miguel? Are you going to hit me with another pillow, cause if so I'm so prepared this time," you started before Miguel put a finger to your lips.

"You must be a witch of some sort," Miguel whispered. Your face contorted in confusion.

"I can't seem to stop craving sweets because of you, I think I may like them more than you do," he muttered, bringing his mouth closer to your ears. His warm breath tickled the sensitive part behind your ear.

"So what are you gonna do about those cravings?" you whispered in a low tone. You finally understood what Miiuel was getting at when you caught a glimpse of the gingerbread whipped cream he held in his hand.

Miguel put some whipped cream in his mouth and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was wet and messy, as your tongues swirled, you could taste the sweet cream.

His warm hands wandered under your shirt groping your tits, his calloused fingers circling one of your hard nipples. You moaned into the kiss, pulling at his wavy locks. With a swift motion, he takes off your shirt. To his pleasant surprise, you were wearing absolutely nothing underneath.

"Lay down baby,"

You lay yourself down on the bed, parting your legs a bit leaving your naked body on display for him to feast on with his eyes. Miguel licked his lip at the alluring sight before putting some whipped cream on the tips of your boobs.

With a grin, he slowly licked the whipped cream off of your tits causing you to shudder and giggle at the sudden feeling of his tongue on your skin. As his tongue swirled around your nipples you could feel your aching cunt throb. You began to rub your thighs together unconsciously to give yourself some friction.

He brought his lips back to yours, and you could still taste the sweet whipped cream on his tongue as he kissed with more passion than he ever had. He hadn't even touched you yet but you were already in haze.

He put some whipped cream in a trail from your sternum to the bottom of your abdomen. He placed himself between your legs and licked and slurped down stopping at your sopping wet cunt. He took a moment to savor the flavor. Your hand gripped the sheet tightly in anticipation of his next move. You whimpered and whined for him to continue. "Please Miguel��need you—p-please touch me," you whined as you grabbed him by his curly hair and practically shoved his face into your cunt.

"So needy baby," Miguel moaned into your pussy as he began his assault on your clit. The sensation of his moans vibrating from your cunt right to the tension building up in your stomach.

You clamped your eyes shut as you felt tears threaten to spill as you finally got some relief. You moaned loudly as he sucked on your sensitive bud. You felt his hot wet tongue lick up and down your slit, before he plunged it into your tight aching hole. Refocusing his attention on your clit, he plunged one of his thick digits into your cunt. Your moans only became higher-pitched and louder as he fed another finger into your cunt. "You like that baby?" he asked as he moved his fingers in and out of cunt at an ungodly pace. His tongue collected all the sweet slick dripping out of you. He humped the bed desperately at the same pace looking for any type of release.

You nodded your head frantically in response to his inquiry and gripped his hair even harder. "Miguel s'close," you whined as you babbled nonsense feeling the tension in your stomach explode like a thousand fireworks on the 4th of July, you moaned his name loudly as your thighs shook rapidly as you squirted all over his face.

When Miguel lifted his head from your cunt after cleaning all the juices of your thighs. Miguel was completely pussy drunk and drenched in your slick. "God that was so hot baby," he sighed as he gave you a quick kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue as well as the faint taste of whipped cream. As Miguel lay against the headboard you settled between his legs hoping to return the favor but when she pulled his boxers down, all she saw was his sticky cum coating the inside of his underwear and his thigh. "You came in your pants?" you asked with your eyebrow quirked up at him.

"Stop teasin'," he says as his cheeks heated up and the pink crept at the side of his cheekbones. How did I cum in my pants like a little teenage horndog? He asks himself.

"It's okay hon', I'll clean you up," you said slowly looking straight into his eyes as you licked him clean and savored the salty taste of his seed.

You straddle Miguel sitting in his lap, and you crash your lips onto his. He holds you by the hips and gropes your ass as you kissed. Your tongues engage in a heated dance as he lifts you and walks over to the bathroom. You had your legs wrapped around his waist and fingers raked through his soft wet hair. He sits you down on the toilet seat and starts the shower.

The steam enveloped the bathroom as the scent of your Vanilla body wash floated through the bathroom. You got in the shower with Miguel. He helped you wash your hair and wrapped it up in a towel. He treated you like you were as fragile as authentic China. You helped him wash his hair as well. He wrapped his arms around you from behind before helping you get your back. You both got out afterward and lotioned up before slipping into your pajamas. You both opted for the matching holiday set you bought at the store.

Miguel had even gone so far as to put your hair oil in, detangle, and put it into two French braids before you went to sleep. "I had no idea you could do hair so well," you exclaimed, very happy with the outcome smiling at him through the mirror.

"Well you remember my late daughter I told you about, I used to braid her hair for her before bed and for her soccer games," he explained, smiling at the memories that resurfaced.

"I would love to meet her Miguel," you murmured as you took his hand and placed a kiss into it.

"She would've loved you even more," he reassured as he urged you to get comfy in bed while he made her a cup of tea.

He walked into the bedroom with a nice hot mug of Earl Grey tea. You could smell it when he brought it over to you. You had over 50 different teas in your house but he still knew exactly which one to bring you. "Thank you hon', you know me so well you even put some honey in here!" you praised.

"I've never met a coffee shop owner that hates coffee but it's fine because I make the best tea," he teases.

You roll your eyes playfully as Miguel rubs his hand along your thigh listening to you babble on about whatever drama was happening in the shop while occasionally kissing your hand.

When you were all done you slowly felt yourself fall asleep in his warm embrace. It was the merriest of Christmas nights you had ever had.

author's note: Thanks so much for reading this series! I had so much fun writing and I am so thankful for your support. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any requests, they are always open, let me in on your ideas, or critics. Thanks again xoxo

taglist:

@iite-cool@jewelz-teehe@br0-please@d1lf-loverrr@corpsebridenightamare@laysmt@bitchystrawberrystudent@lotionlamp@local-mr-frog@scaleniusrm@migueloharastruelove@thedevax@3zae-zae3@veyveys@simmerarmy@amber-content

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stuckinthesun · 1 year ago

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“You got a little something…” Sanji x Fem!Reader

Kinktober — Week One: Food play (whipped cream), semi-public sex, against a wall, desperate

When you guys docked The Sunny at the nearest Island, your guy’s plan had been the usual one: split up, stock up, load up, move on. But when the crew got to the main village of the small island to see the townspeople in the midst of setting up for a large Halloween party, the plans instantly changed.

Luffy was more than happy to invite himself and his crew to this village's festivities and, of course, put his friends to work to make up for their intrusion. You and Sanji were obviously put on food and drink, getting no complaints from your boyfriend as he was already talking to the local chef about tonight's menu.

You smile at the blonde fondly and follow after him, ready to be his sue chef.

Hours later, the town was a beautiful sight. Pumpkins, both carved and plain, decorated the steps of the buildings; orange lights glittered in the trees, and all kinds of spooky Halloween decorations were set up on the main street, making the local kids laugh.

It was nice, and the townspeople were so lively and festive. You couldn’t wait to go out there and enjoy it after finishing your job serving food to everyone.

“Darling, please, I can handle this myself,” Sanji complained again as he came towards you with another stack of delicious food to be passed out, “grab some food for yourself and enjoy the party.”

You smiled at him, taking the tray of food from him and handing him your empty one, “Now, how am I supposed to enjoy the party without my date, hmm?”

Sanji’s cheeks flush bright red, making you giggle.

“Sorry, baby! I’m almost done, I promise! I’ll be out to enjoy the party with you soon, don’t you worry!” Your boyfriend shouted much too loudly as he started running back to the kitchen, bumping into people as he went. You just smiled at him and nodded before turning around and batting away the rubber hand that tried to steal another helping of food.

After you finish serving the last of the food, you don’t get to see Sanji again for twenty minutes as he helped the local chef clean up. As you waited for your boyfriend to join you for the night, you got yourself a drink, finally allowing yourself to unwind.

“I’m here!” You hear a familiar voice call out, and you smile as you turn to see Sanji jogging up to you, “I’m here, my sweet!”

“Never doubted you,” You chuckled, giving him a kiss when he finally made it to you.

“And as an apology for making you wait,” Sanji beamed a cheeky smirk at you as he held out a plate. You looked down and saw a delicious-looking dessert with what looked like freshly whipped cream, making your eyes widen.

“Did you seriously make all of this? Is that a short amount of time?” You ask, taking the plate from him.

“What, you doubt my skills?”

“Of course not.” You roll your eyes with a smile and take a bite of the dessert.

Instantly your eyes close and an involuntary moan escape’s your lips at the sweet taste. Sanji’s cooking is always flawless, but his baking is almost just as good.

“Gods this is amazing,” You mumble, looking up at your boyfriend to see him staring at you with wide eyes and red cheeks.

“I’m glad.” He said quietly, voice sounding like it was caught in his throat.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Are you-“

“Have another bite.” Sanji quickly cut you off, almost demanding, as he nodded his head towards your dessert.

You narrowed your eyes and slowly took another bite. This time when you bit into your treat, a smear of whipped cream got on your cheek.

You sighed, ready to ask your boyfriend to grab you a napkin, when he reached up, cupped your chin, and pressed his thumb against your skin. Slowly, Sanji began to smear the cream along your lips before sliding his thumb between them, forcing the whipped cream inside.

Eyes widening, your grip on the dessert plate tightened as you stood there shocked. You instinctually began to suck on the digit in your mouth, feeling heat pool between your legs as you watched Sanji’s eyes stay fixated on your lips wrapped around his thumb, almost like he was in a trance.

Sanji’s gaze seemed to grow hungrier as he started sliding his thumb from your mouth, the whipped cream now licked clean, and pulling your bottom lip down along with it.

Finally his eyes met yours again.

“Do you mind if I keep you from the party just a little longer, Doll?” Sanji muttered, and you shook your head immediately.

Without another word, Sanji grabbed you by the hand and began pulling you between buildings, trying to get as far from the party as possible. You scramble to set your dessert down on a nearby table as you’re dragged away, knowing for sure that Luffy will find it before you return.

Anticipation tingled your skin and you quickly followed behind him. You had honestly never seen your boyfriend like that before, and it heated your core to see the pure want in his eyes.

The moment Sanji deems the two of you far enough away, he has you pressed up against a wall in a desperate kiss.

You sigh into the kiss, reaching up to grip him by his dress shirt and pull him closer. Sanji pushed himself flush against you, rolling his hips against yours, letting you feel just how hard he already is.

You pull back from the kiss, “Fuck Sanji, what’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”

“Dunno,” The blond mumbles, leaning down to kiss along your neck making you moan, “Just need you.”

With a nod you slid your hands down his torso, unbuttoning his dress pants and untucking his dress shirt. Sanji’s hands trailed along your thighs and up your skirt to grip your panties, yanking them down in one fluid motion.

“Fuck~” You hiss when the cool air hits your warm center, making you want to close your legs and rub your thighs together.

You don’t even get the chance as you’re suddenly picked up, legs wrapping around Sanji’s waist as he suddenly buries himself inside of you.

“O-oh gods! Sa-Sanji!” You cry out, tears flooding your eyes at the sudden intrusion.

“Couldn’t wait anymore, Princess.” Is Sanji’s response, his voice sounding deeper than usual, “I’m sorry I promise to make you feel so good.”

“Please,” You whimper, holding onto your boyfriend for dear life. His long cock fills you so well, just kissing your cervix and driving you nuts.

You want him to move.

“Fuck.” Sanji groans and gives you just what you need.

He starts thrusting up into you hard and fast, his powerful leg’s useful for more than just fighting. Both of you moan loudly and cling onto each other tighter. Sanji’s face is tucked against your neck, dragging open mouth against your skin while you grip fistfuls of his hair.

It’s all so much; you can still hear the music from the party, see the orange light’s glittering in Sanji’s hair, watch your breath in the cool October night air.

You can feel how his cock hits your sweet spot just right, every time. Causing shivers to go down your spine and loud moans to pass your lips.

Heat builds in your abdomen until you can’t hold it anymore, “Sanji I’m gonna-“

“Me too, love,” Sanji grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppy in a telltale sign of his own orgasm, “Fuck, baby, me too. Cum for me, don’t be shy.”

“Sanji!” You cry out, cumming hard with only his cock inside of you.

The feeling of you cumming around him pulled Sanji off the edge right along with you, making him spill inside of you.

The two of you just stayed like that for a minute, panting against the wall, trying to catch your breath.

After a little bit, Sanji pulled away and looked at you sheepishly, “Sorry about all… that.”

You blink at him before smirking slowly, “I don’t know, I kinda like it. Maybe I should’ve brought the dessert and let you lick some of the whipped cream off of me.”

You felt his now soft dick inside of you twitch and slowly begin to harden again.

You look at him.

Sanji looks at you.

You’ll definitely have to remember this.

Let’s pretend I didn’t get really sick and actually was able to post this on week one AND that the ending isn’t rushed okay

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jellazticious · 10 months ago

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bing bong bootleg SS au

very long ramble under the C

stuff are subjected to change

The working title isn't solidified but I'm leaning on either Candy Castle or Pastry Castle

Tho I think I'm gonna go for pastry cuz it has the same amount of letters as castle much like pizza and tower have the same number too

The tower is a gingerbread castle. According to a friend of mine (It's Beefy, it's always Beefy go follow him) that Hispanics love their bakeries and yeah, I guess that makes sense. Not only do I have a theme based on the protag's culture but also the theme gets narrowed down to just baked sweets. Candy in general is too broad, I would die figuring out how to put every kind of sweet in it, and if I did it's gonna be really cluttered hooboy

Noise is called Theo because that's Peppino's name formula. Peppino is a nickname for Giuseppe so I thought I'd give Noise's swap a nickname to Theodore as the main name

Hazel Nutt is pretty self explanatory cuz Noisette means hazelnut in French

Their outfits are pretty simple to mirror Peppino and Gustavo's with just coloured shirts and aprons

Hazel doesn't get a mount because she would have Theo's prototype rocket skates. Just like Gus, she would have different stages of getting used to the skates per floor. First she gets blasted from end to end cuz she can't control the thrust. Second, she manages to turn it off but she's trying to keep balance on it. Third, she catches her breath now that she could stand still without moving or slipping. Next she would make a card castle, in reference to the very castle they're inside. and lastly she'd be holding a box of sweets without giving a shit about the scary floor.

To parallel the og Noisette, Hazel would smile bigger when Theo faces her direction.

Hazel is also Theo's delivery gal to match and switch with how Peppino WAS Gustavo's delivery guy

The "kick the rat" function would be Hazel swinging one of the skates and the cops grabbing Brick would instead hold a weapon detector that also functions as a magnet

Unlike Peppino, Theo is more aggressive than anxious. Imagine an injured cat defending itself from what it thinks is a threat

the name of Pizzaface's swap is Pieface for obvious reasons 😭

but HEAR ME OUT

both pizzaface and pieface are used as insults. pizza face is used for people with so much acne and pie face is used for someone with a flat face or dull expression. It isn't just a pun on what food the characters are made of. Pieface is also a reference to the trope where people headshot other people with pies. With the mech floating towards the protag, it would look like a pie is being thrown and targeted at Theo

Honestly drawing what food makes his face is so fun. Did you know that before the croissant smile it was supposed to be syrup shaped to a smile? The nose was a long whip of cream before turning into a cut strawberry for the mustache effect

Pizzahead's candy version would be called Gingerhead because of how ridiculous it sounds.

Gingerhead is based on Willy Wonka much like how Pizzahead is based on Ronald McDonald which is why he has more of a showman look than a clown look

okay side note, it just occured to me how ironic PH being based on Ronald is considering McDo's isn't a pizza place

actually Wonka doesn't even sell cakes and shit so, I guess it's fair game

Theo has the nickname Muffinman to reference the rhyme. but this time, it's the gingerbreadman chasing the baker

Next up is Mr S, who would be Peppino but he becomes rich. Mr S is the stage name he uses. He is a known celebrity much as Noise is but he is more of a boxer than a host. Like Dwayne Johnson or something. His name is partially a reference to ResEvil's Mr X, another absolute unit of a guy

also the reason why he doesn't wear a shirt. He's committing to the bit. If he needs to cover himself when he isn't playing a role, then there's his robe. He doesn't take out his mask most of the time tho

Mr S's mask is based on the Chef Raider design but also part of the scrapped superhero design much like Pizzano. Actually speaking of Pizzano, S is characterized so similarly to him cuz Pizzano is the only SS character who was actually written well to my standards. To be fair we've seen too much of Peppino to flunk characterizing him sksksk

Since this is Peppino that Mr S is based on, he's not as tech savvy or as self centered as Noise so he doesn't have robots that look like himself. Instead he has ants for a crew

the ants swap the place of rats. the rats in PT reference the new york pizza rat while ants just generally eat your food especially if it's sweet when left alone for five minutes

the ants come from Mr G, who would be Gustavo's swap with Noisette. He's Mr S's lawyer. at the end of S's bossfight, G would snatch him away with Click (the ant) because S would make a foul and embarrassing move on live camera

I can't seperate Gustavo and Brick so Click stays with Mr G instead of assisting Hazel

inside what would be Noisette cafe, instead of Mr G and Click being behind the counter, they would be sitting as customers next to Caraman. the barista isn't seen anywhere

Honestly when I'm writing everyone, my logic of swapping them isn't "make them switch places AND personalities" but more of "write every single one of them with the og personality because giving them a different lifestyle/role would drastically change their motives and how they behave"

I'm practically just swapping each character's place of birth

I mentioned this because it's kinda funny with Noisette and Gus since they play the exact same role of assisting Peppino/Noise so swapping them won't change much in how they act. They also have the same cheery and welcoming personality by default so Hazel and Mr G would act REALLY similar to their og

The only difference is that Gustavo can be threatening whenever Peppino fucks up. It fits right in with being a lawyer for the same goon

Now we got Mel Caraman who would become this au's Vigi. Lemme just say off the bat that Caraman is just as delusional as Vigi. He gets hired as a guard for floor 2 and took it way too seriously that he thinks he's some sort of sentinel. Hired as a guard but thinks he's an ancient guardian or something

his name vaguely references James Bond because you also VAGUELY get "caramel" out of "Caraman, Mel Caraman"

Caraman is a caramel apple but he's half glazed to form an eyemask. he's also got a stick poking out his head that stretches his chorro hat. the big hat makes him look cooler anyways. Bro I was so ready to settle for a shitty wild west mayor hat and I owe Beefy one for suggesting a new hat. I was gonna make him look like Doug Dimmadome with the short brimmed tall hat😭😭😭

but yeah Caraman doesn't have the same dignity as Vigi does. He can fight crime decently on normal circumstances and badass when he's full serious. But like day in day out he's so obnoxious about looking for crime that people get tired of him nor would they take him seriously

he would also be mistaken for a pepper

Next to last, Cam M. Bert or just Bert who would take place of Pepperman. he's an artist who appreciates the world instead of himself, a freelancer also. There was only a bossfight because he was coincidentally commissioned to make a mural for the castle the same time Theo busts in. He didn't like how Theo ruined some of his works with his rush to open the door

Bert is a cream cheese instead of a cheese slime. his beret is actually a little cherry to distinguish him from the other creams.

Bert is really chill and humble, He's like Bob Ross, whenever he can, he'd try to talk about how every beauty in the world should be immortalized through a canvas

In parallel to Vigi's delusion of thinking he's a human, Bert thinks he's actually a living painting (which is completely possible for someone to be in the PT world since Pepperman was able to do it with his own art)

instead of a :{ face that Vigilante has, Bert has a :3 face

the naming formula is taken directly from Vigi

Vig E. Lantte

Cam M. Bert

There is a type of sweet cheese that's really creamy called camembert which his name is a direct reference from. Here is a picture of a camembert since it's hella cute

Camembert cheese was also suggested by Beefy, brother thank you for not allowing me to name this cunt Creamlad

Mr Lardo would be in place of Mr Stick but his motive is that he's collecting Theo's money on BEHALF of Mr Stick. They're probably the only ones who completely stay intact because there's not much canon info of Stick WITHIN the game itself I also feel he's a crossover character from his own "series" with how long McPig has him prior to PT so I just swap the character who makes the "cameo"

The toppins are still called toppins because they'd be used to decorate a cake or pie. They would be

Strawberry - Mushroom

Cream - Cheese

Cookie - Tomato

Icing (in a piping bag) - Sausage

actually I dont know yet for the pineapple but I'll get to it. I've only been figuring out this au since four days ago....

Lastly (of the characters), the Faker in this would be mechanical to match the original Noise's familiarity in robots

Fake Theo (temp name) would be engineered to be "Theo but way better" while actually being succesful with it. Faker would also sort of look like a mini figure of a ballerina. Referencing The Nutcracker

Opposite to Fake Peppino, Fake Theo is more graceful than terrifying but it's so uncanny how unnaturally pretty it is

and now some misc stuff

Title of the final level is When The Cookie Crumbles

the pepper pizza will be replaced with an extremely sweet pie and the immunity is caused by the sugar rush from it

Pizza Time is called Crunch Time

Pillar John would be a giant graham cracker since the walls are made of cookies instead of bricks. Gerome however, is a solidified bar of brownies. like a shittily made brownie that it just turned into a construction brick

Snotty is a pure white cream cheese and that's cuz he's actually made of glue. His name is Sticky

Pigs would either be bears or rabbits with how many times those two animals represented sweets

I'm gonna be clear with everyone here. I literally made this au cuz I'm going insane trying to make swap stuff with Pascal/Stefano when the au itself is so empty. sure it's colourful but it's so empty like I can't draw SS characters outside of poses

I tried like doing fanon modifications as I always do then there's so much I "modified" that at this point it's not Sugary Spire anymore. Just straight up a completely different au. The only similarity is that it's a swap au with sweets

it is what it is yknow. this is my life now. I said fuck it and went with the flow and boom, new personal au that I poured too much into

basically I blame Pascal for this

#Pizza Tower #tagging them as their og until I solidify the au #Pizzaface #Pizzahead #The Noise #Peppino Spaghetti #Noisette #The Vigilante #Pepperman #Gustavo and Brick #i drew this #Cookie Castle

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ordinary-barbie · 3 months ago

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give me more than just butterflies. jean x reader

summary: you and Jean have been dating for a few months now and you’re thinking about how good a dad he would be someday. maybe, just maybe… title is from "juno" by sabrina carpenter.

tags: jean x fem!reader, mentions of pregnancy, lots of fluff, oral (m and f receiving), pet names (babe and baby), slight breeding/pregnancy kink, jean and reader are in their late 20s here

minors and ageless DNI! 18+ only, please.

Dating Jean Kirstein made you feel like you'd won the lottery.

Obviously, he was an absolute dreamboat looks-wise. You loved his tall, muscular build, soft ash-brown hair and light brown eyes, not to mention a smile that could rival the sun in wattage. In another life, he could make a killing as an Abercrombie model.

However, it's his personality that really made you fall for him. He's impossibly sweet and kind yet has a strong sarcastic streak you love. He adores you, of course, but also loves his friends (even though Sasha and Connie in particular drive him nuts sometimes) and would do anything for his mama. Of course Jean wasn't perfect; he had his flaws, but when it comes to boyfriends, you couldn't see how you could do any better.

You and Jean had been dating for almost a year now. You'd met him through Hinge; dating apps had always seemed a bit scary to you, but one of your best friends convinced you to put yourself out there. You were charmed by his witty answers to his profile prompts and very attracted to his pictures. It turned out that he was utterly charming even through text, and after one date at a local Italian restaurant Jean adored, you were absolutely smitten (and the feeling was mutual). The two of you have been dating for nine months now, in absolute bliss.

Life was good right now, but your mind couldn't help drifting to thoughts of the future, especially after you and Jean went to see his best friend Marco's new baby boy. Callum was an absolute cutie, with his dad's dark brown hair and nose but his mom's bright blue eyes.

"Hey babe, could you get a pic of me with Cal?" Jean asked. He had Callum perfectly cradled in his arms and you just about melted at the sight. Jean looked so at peace holding the baby, like this was second nature to him. You quickly took your phone out of your pocket and took a candid snap of your boyfriend lovingly gazing at the baby, then another one where he looked directly at the camera, smiling softly.

Jean passed Callum back to Marco's wife Adelaide, then peeked over your shoulder to see the photos you took. "These are perfect," he said, beaming. "Thanks, baby."

Marco and Adelaide hurried over to see the photos and "aww"ed over them, making Jean's cheeks flush with pink. "It's amazing how much the guy who used to shotgun whipped cream in high school looks like a dad here," Marco joked.

You snickered, but after the laughter subsided, you couldn't help but agree with Marco. Jean looked so comfortable with Callum; if anyone didn't know any better, they'd think Jean was posing with his own son.

The image of Jean holding Marco's son stayed in your mind for days after that visit. You'd been on the fence about having kids, not sure if you wanted to go through the whole ordeal of pregnancy or if you'd even make a halfway-decent mother. But seeing Jean cradling a baby had stirred a desire in you. Maybe having a kid wouldn't be so bad...especially if it was with Jean.

You were nowhere near ready to have a kid right now, but the idea of having a baby with Jean somewhere down the line was sounding more and more appealing. Jean was pretty much the hottest person alive, and it would be cool if some baby was lucky enough to get some of his genes. The only issue was actually telling your desired baby daddy. What if he got scared off by you already dreaming of having kids with him? You hadn't even been together for a year yet. You decided to squash that dream of yours for the moment, not wanting to freak him out.

You were in bliss. Jean had come over to watch Howl's Moving Castle ("It's a crime that you haven't seen it!" you insisted), but as soon as the credits started rolling, he'd pulled you onto his lap and pressed soft, slow kisses to your neck. You sighed, happily, grinding yourself against Jean and making him gasp.

"Babe, watch it," he spoke in a strained voice. "If you keep doing that, I'm gonna go crazy, and I don't think I have a condom with me."

You were so horny you couldn't think straight. "I don't care, you can finish inside me," you blurted out.

Jean flushed bright red, saying your name with a gasp. "Um, while I would love to do that, I'm not tryin' to get you pregnant right now. I know you're on the pill, but better safe than sorry, you know?"

Jean's words tugged at your heartstrings. What a man! He could be so anxious when it came to sex at times, but you knew it was because he deeply cared for you and wanted to make sure you were happy and safe. And he was right; this would not be the right time to have a baby.

Your hidden thought popped back into your head. Fuck it, why not just tell him? He'd given you the perfect opening. "I appreciate that, Jean. But one day I do want to have kids with you. I don't know when, but I've been thinking about this for a while, and I want you to make me a mom."

When Jean stayed silent for a few moments, you got nervous. Then his eyes started to well up with tears. "Babe, are - are you sure this is what you want? I mean, I'm so down for this, but I know when we first started dating, you were on the fence about children."

You were so relieved that your irrational fears about Jean's reaction hadn't played out. "Yes, I'm sure. I've been sure ever since that day two weeks ago when we met Marco's baby and I took those pictures of you holding him," you answered, your voice shaking with emotion. "I know we haven't even been together a year yet and maybe this is too soon to be talking about this but - I want it. A house and a family, with you."

Jean wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him, and peppered your face with kisses. "Babe, I love you so much. I wouldn't want to start a family with anyone else."

"Well I should certainly hope not," you joked, needing to lighten up the moment a little bit. Jean laughed before burying his face into the side of your neck and nuzzling you.

It was a tender moment, interrupted by a particular something poking you in the side. "Jean. Did you really get hard because I told you I want to have your babies one day?" You couldn't help but giggle.

Jean lifted his head from your neck, looking sheepish. "I'm sorry babe. I just pictured you being pregnant and...I guess I got excited."

You lightly punched your boyfriend in the arm, pretending to be scandalized. "Jean Kirstein, you are a pervert!" You couldn't lie that it was a little bit hot that he would still find your pregnant body desirable, to be honest.

Jean smirked at you. "Can't help it. You're gonna be the hottest mom in the neighborhood, baby."

Zing. Jean's words went straight to your core. You lifted yourself off of his lap and sank down to your knees on the floor, looking for permission before you unbuttoned your boyfriend's pants.

"Babe, what are you doing?" he questioned with a chuckle, though there was a dark glint in his eye.

"Well, I was thinking, if we can't have sex right now, we can still do...other stuff. And I figured I’d help take care of your little problem.” You flashed him a coy smile.

Jean groaned before unbuttoning his pants and letting you take his length into your mouth. He moaned your name, looking like he was trying not to bust a nut right then and there.

"What did I do to deserve someone as amazing as you?" Jean asked, his eyes shut with pleasure as you sucked him off and fondled his balls. You giggled before pulling your mouth off of him and kissed the tip of his dick, causing Jean to let out a guttural growl.

Before you could return to your blowjob, Jean had joined you on the floor, capturing your lips in a deep kiss before smooching his way down your body.

It was your turn to ask, "Babe, what are you doing?" Even though you knew damn well what was about to happen, and your body tingled with an excited energy.

"It's only fair that I return the favor, babe," Jean said, casually pulling your underwear to the side before diving in like a starving man.

Yep, you'd definitely won the lottery with Jean Kirstein. And you had a feeling that things would get even better once the two of you were actually ready to try for a baby.

#aot x reader #aot smut #jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein x you #jean kirschtein x you #aot x you #jean kirstein smut #tiff writes

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holylulusworld · 15 days ago

Text

BFG (10)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings/Tags: pregnancy, fluff, love confessions

Catch up here: BFG (9)

BFG masterlist

Legend: Y/M/N = Your mother's name Y/F/N = Your father's name

Frances left after she was sure Reacher came back to stay, and that he wouldn't leave again. You watched them say goodbye. Reacher nodded at Neagley and silently thanked her while she awkwardly looked at him.

You got that both, Neagley and Reacher are not fans of showing emotions or hugs. Still, you knew the moment you saw them interact for the first time that they shared a special kind of friendship.

“Have a safe trip home,” you didn’t shake her hand or hug her. Not because you didn’t want to, though. You figured that Neagley doesn’t like physical contact, and respected her personal space. “If you ever come back, you have a place to stay and free cereals.”

She smiled and nodded. “You better keep Mayor Reacher in line. He can be hard to handle but is a protective giant. He’ll be good to you and the baby.” She leaned closer and whispered in your ear. “If he gets antsy, give me a call. I’ll set him straight.”

You giggled and wished her well. Holding back the urge to hug her, you watched Neagley enter her car and drive away. “What did she say?” Reacher asked. “Y/N?”

“Oh, she wanted me to take good care of you, and your stomach,” you chuckled and patted his belly. “How can you stay so fit, and eat that much at the same time?”

“I’m a big guy,” he said and looked down at his body. “Ma always said I grew big and strong for a reason.” He lifted his big hands to look at them. “Maybe she was right.”

“I know she was right,” you said and took his hands to place them on your belly. “You grew big and strong enough to hold your baby one day.”

Reacher smiled at your words. He nodded, eyes glued to his hands on your belly. You didn’t show yet, but he already imagined you swollen with his child. The baby wasn’t planned, but he wouldn’t want to change a thing.

“So, did you think about names already?” Reacher looked up from the assembly instructions of the new cradle you bought. “Reacher?”

“Uh—no,” he said, surprised that you wanted him to think of a name. Reacher didn’t expect to have a say in this. “Do you already know what we’re having?”

“Not yet,” you said and stepped closer to Reacher. The giant sat on the ground; long legs stretched out to read the assembly instructions. “It’s too soon.”

You looked around the room you wanted to turn into a nursery. Reacher already cleaned out the former guestroom and painted the walls in neutral colors.

Reacher followed your eyes, grinning as you admired the teddy bear he painted on the wall. You had no clue he could draw. “I’m finished with the wardrobe and the diaper-changing table. I am trying to build the cradle now. It seems a few screws are missing.”

“How about a break? You worked all morning,” you softly said, and ran your hand over his shoulders. “I made lunch. Sally Ann and the new girl take care of the diner today. I have the day off and we could talk about baby names.”

“My ma’s name was Josephine,” he said, eyes saddening. “Maybe Joseph for a boy. My brother would be over the moon, or not. He wasn’t very emotional.”

You smiled and sat down next to him to pat his thigh. “I like both. Josephine Y/M/N for a girl, and Joseph Y/F/N for a boy. We can decide after finding out about the gender in a few weeks.”

“That’s good,” Reacher shoved the food you made into his mouth, groaning as he couldn’t get enough. “You’re a great cook too.”

“You hit the jackpot.” You winked at Reacher before putting more mashed potatoes and another steak on his plate. “Eat up, I got dessert too.”

Reacher licked his lips, already imagining something sweeter than dessert. He’d wait until he finished the nursery, of course. “What will we get for dessert?”

“I tried a new variation of my peach pie. You can have whipped cream too.” He kept on praising your food. You sighed all the while watching him eat. “If you don't want to eat peach pie again, I can make a cherry pie or apple pie.”

“I love your peach pie,” he murmured while eating more mashed potatoes. “And your pie tastes great too.”

“You’re naughty,” you giggled and threw your napkin at him. Reacher easily caught the napkin and wiped his mouth clean. “I like it.”

He laughed, deep and rich as you dreamily looked at the giant of a man. Who would’ve thought he’d stay and raise a child with you when he walked into your diner for the first time?

Tags in reblog.

#reacher #reacher x reader #jack reacher #plussized reader #reacher x plussized reader #BFG (10)#reacher x you #reacher x y/n

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braxlrose · 1 year ago

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More 2023 bill smut pls

modern!bill smut hcs

cw: bondage, oral (r!recieving), whipped cream licking, hickies, vibrators, dacraphilia; let me know if I missed anything else

-hes super into bondage. doesn't matter if it's you tied up or him tied up but he loves it. especially if yall are using silk ropes. he likes those the best because they're so soft on your skin and he wants you to be enjoying the sex, not worrying about harsh rope burning your skin ☹️ such a little sweetie.

-sometimes. sometimes he's sweet. but then there's the other side of bill. the side of bill that loves seeing tears run down your beautiful face, your pouty lips all swollen and red from him sucking and nipping at them, your body covered in hickies and seeing you wobble and hold on to him when you walk the next morning because you can't stand on your own.

-he also likes to put stuff like whipped cream on you and lick it off. I personally think, that bill got more kinks and figured out what he liked the older he got which is why he's more out there w/ it than he was in the 2000s. but back to this, he likes to put it on your nipples and lick it off you super slowly. He wants to see you whine and bite your lip as tears fill your water line.

-he really likes watching you ride him, like really likes it. even though he's totally a soft dom, he likes to be sub too. but it can be 50/50 when riding him. sometimes he's a whiny sub underneath you, just begging you to ride him faster and other times he's still a dom and will grip your cushy hips like his life depends on it, controlling how fast you go and when you get to cum.

-he likes positions where he can see your face, but when yall are doing something like doggy style, he loves kissing your back and leaning down so your back is touching his chest and whispering dirty things into your ears.

-on that note, he's literally the king of dirty talk, he's so good at it, whispering delicious things into your ears as he fucks you.

-when he's going down on you, he loves using a vibrator. he thinks the guys who are against that shit are dumbasses because a vibrator just helps you cum quicker, and what can be bad about that? so he has all sorts of kinds, little bullet vibrators and then some bigger ones too.

-he also got you a pair of panties that have a vibrator attached. one part that goes on your clit and another that's pumping in and out of you and he loves it when you wear it in public. like when you and him are out to dinner w/ heidi and tom. he also likes it when you wear it on live streams because he can turn it on whenever he wants and just watches you squirm. and he always knows when you finish because you turn your phone up towards the ceiling and mute your mic. THE MF IS ALWAYS SMIRKING TOO OH MY GOD.

taglist:

@hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @spelaelamela @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @dead-tapes

#bill kaulitz #tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #smut #fluff #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz being sexy as hell #bill being the little flirty cutie pie he is #bill kaulitz fanfic #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz 2023 #modern!bill kaulitz

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blackbat05 · 4 months ago

Text

Persistence

Gryffindor! Carlos x Reader (House of Choice)

A/N: That Wimbledon Champion’s dinner video was so cute and a great inspiration. I might have also shown my crack side towards the end but I hope you enjoy😁 Funfact I wrote this in a day lmao.

“Good one! Let’s do five more and we’ll stop. It’s getting dark.” Ainsley yells from afar.

“Gotcha Cap!”

You take a deep breath and get your bat into position. Ainsley releases the bludger at top speed but you’re confident that this will be a walk in the park.

30 metres… 20 metres… 10 metres…

“Ah!!!”

You had to dodge from the aggressive ball at the very last second, bludger almost taking your ear off.

“Y/N! You ok?”

You quickly recover back onto your broom, wondering what the heck was that. “I’m good Cap!” You scan for the source of noise and lo and behold, you find the Gryffindor Beater taking a leisure stroll onto the field with a dozen of girls from every single house trailing behind him.

Just end me.

Ainsley gives a furtive glance as you land on the ground gracefully, putting your broom aside to confront the person at everyone’s attention.

“Alcaraz!” You raise both your arms in exasperation, tone high. “I would appreciate it if you would quit trying to disrupt my training?”

He should have been scared. Most guys on the other Qudditch teams would have shit in their pants. But not Carlos, the guy was simply one of a kind.

“Hello to you, amor.”

“Quit it.” You growled. Most girls would have fallen for his charms but not you. It’s guys like these that would stomp on your heart the moment they’re done toying with you.

Unfazed by the crowds, he takes a step forward to you and you can’t help but to notice the color of chocolate swimming in his eyes. Carlos smirks.

You don’t know what he has up his sleeve this time. Surely it can be worst than supergluing your butt to the handle of your broom. Your body freezes in anticipation as he opens his mouth to say whatever ridiculous things he has in his darned head of his.

“Go to the Yule Ball with me.”

Yeap. Definitely stupid things.

***

“You said no? Girl you are out of your god damn mind.” Ainsley widens his stride to keep up with you as you head to the dorm. “He is down bad for you!”

“I am probably just one of his conquests.” You waved it off dismissively. “Hey, Ains…” You looked at your captain who resembles a bobble head.

“No. I have a date.”

“Bullshit.”

“I do.”

“No you don’t.”

Ainsley gives you a look and you realize your best friend is speaking the truth. The two of you stare at each other in silence.

“He’s not going to give up is he?”

“I’m afraid not.”

***

You wondered if your friend was finally listening to the Divination classes. Ainsley was right. Carlos popped up everywhere you went. The dungeons before potion lessons, the Great Hall and even after your consult with Professor McGonagall who for the first time seemed throughly amused by the young Qudditch prodigy’s efforts.

“Please?”

“Don’t make me hex you Alcaraz. Why not go out with Simmons? She’s way more in your league than I am.”

He doesn’t answer your question and continues to persistently follow you to every possible place in school for the rest of the day.

***

You sit by the fireplace, completing the last bit of your assignment. Stomach growling, you look at the clock and realized you have yet to grab anything to eat.

Perhaps the kitchen would have something. You make your way down quietly to not get spotted by any Professors or the caretaker.

Tickling the pineapple, you head to the kitchen that was still bustling in the evening. Apart from the elves, you weren’t alone.

“I’ve tried everything! But she doesn’t believe me. What do I do?” Carlos groans and you duck behind a pot of pans, eavesdropping into their conversation.

“Perhaps some food sir? Miss Y/N always likes strawberries with whipped cream.” The elf suggested.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll take those. Thank you.” Carlos glumly accepts the bag of strawberries from another elf running around the kitchen.

“She helped me. When I was a nobody. She didn’t care how many cups I won, that I was the star player on the team.” Carlos sadly recounts to the elf who has climbed onto the counter to pat him on the shoulder.

You knew exactly what he was referring to. When you were in third year, you happened to run into Carlos being heckled by some older Slytherins who were saying incredibly nasty things about his background. You didn’t hesitate to hex all four of them good and willingly took the punishment for Carlos so that he could continue with his tryouts.

He remembered?

“She’s so sweet and courageous and brave.” He continues to confess his inner thoughts. “I wanted to get to know her better. Before I was sucked up in all of this.” He refers to the fame that came along with his exceptional athletic abilities. “But she thinks I’m lying. I really like her, you know.”

You breath hitches and you step out carefully behind him.

“You could have just told me that instead of following me around like a lost puppy.”

Carlos whips his head around. “I… uh… how long were you here?” He asks.

“Long enough.” You reply and sit beside him, thanking the elf for the strawberries. “I have to apologize for my attitude. I was just trying to protect myself and with all that you had going on… I didn’t think you would be interested in me.” You wring your hands nervously, not looking at him.

The realization hits Carlos slowly but surely and a mischievous thought floods his mind. Dipping his finger in the bowl of whip cream that the elf bought, he taps your shoulder and smears your nose with the cream the moment you tilt your head up.

You gasp, pretending to be offended. “And just when I thought we were clearing things up!” You swipe your own whip cream and attack him on his nose, leaving the both of you in a fit of giggles.

Carlos wipes the tears from his eyes and takes a deep breath to calm down.

“So… will you go to the ball with me?” The man in front of you is almost hopeful.

“Yes! I’ll go with you.”

***

Carlos adjusts his tie for the hundredth time this evening, waiting for you anxiously outside the dorm. The door opens and a group of giggling girls dressed to the nines take appreciative glances at him. Not that he noticed. He was too anxious, he couldn’t wait to see you-

“Sorry! I took too long did I?”

He does a double take, engraving your visuals in his memory. “You look beautiful.”

The ball was extravagant. The Great Hall had been transformed beyond recognition as students entered. Music from the live band was playing and most were already on the dance floor while a few stayed behind at the tables mingling with each other.

Carlos extends his hand for you to hold. “Shall we?”

You take his hand as he leads you onto the dance floor. Despite being a professional on the field, you couldn’t say the same on the dance floor.

Sensing your nerves, Carlos does a little shimmy of his hips, earning a small smile from you. He holds you by the waist and takes the lead, moving across the dance floor.

As you glide along with him, Carlos leans down, checking in on you.

“You alright?”

You lean in to him, wrapping both your arms around his waist before giving him a kiss under the chandelier. You couldn’t have been more sure and so was he.

This couldn’t have been more perfect.

***

Bonus Cut:

“Ah! Young love. Professor, you owe me ten galleons!” Professor McGonagall calls the suave Professor Juan Carlos over who hands her the money.

Never bet against Minnie.

#carlos alcaraz #carlos alcaraz x reader

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diazsdimples · 2 months ago

Text

Tagged by @daffi-990 @hippolotamus and @spotsandsocks

Rules: You will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word. My words were WATER, SPACE and HEART

W: When Buck walks into the rehearsal room for the New York City Ballet for the first time, he can’t quite believe he’s made it. [Ballet AU]

A: All this to say, he’s not entirely surprised that his wife and his boyfriend go into labour on the same day. Because of course! [Secret Fic]

T: Tommy though. Tommy is handsome in an almost classical, old-timey Hollywood kind of way. Where Buck is softness and fuzzy around the edges, Tommy is all sharpness and angles. His cheekbones are so pronounced that Eddie often marvels that he doesn’t cut a finger when he caresses them. The cleft in his chin is a perfect shape, and Eddie’s thumb nestles in it like it was fit to size when he kisses Tommy senseless. [Disaster Date fic]

E: Eddie resists the urge to rest his head against Buck’s shoulder. They’re not in their sterile gowns yet, so it wouldn’t be unsafe, as such, but they haven’t come forward with their relationship yet either. With all their friends only a flimsy glass door away, it would be too risky. [Doctor AU]

R: “Ready to get your ass whipped?” Tommy asks, gesturing to the vault. He’s also divested himself of his jumper and Buck’s having a hard time concentrating on much other than Tommy’s nipples, if he’s totally honest. [Olympics AU]

S: So far, today has been the perfect day. He’d been woken up by Evan kissing his neck slowly and sweetly while Eddie had a mouth clamped around one of his nipples. They’d fucked slow and tenderly, and then Evan had poked and prodded them until they’d rolled out of bed and gotten into the car. [Disaster Date Fic]

P: Playing with Tommy like this – because that’s what it feels like, playing – feels almost like a full body experience. It’s not an obligation or distraction, not being used to make up for an argument or lost time. It’s play and discovery. Not just of Tommy, but of himself. What’s more is that he gets to do this. He’s here because he wants to be. This is just as much for him as his partner. [Mechanic Fic]

A: Alfie stirs in Tommy’s arms and his face pulls into a half-hearted grimace. He lets out a tiny whine before settling back down, his little hand tucked up under his cheek. Holding his breath, Buck reaches out and runs his fingers through his son’s fine, blond curls. Tommy turns to Buck with a pointed look as Alfie continues to slumber peacefully. [Alfieverse]

C: “Come on,” he encouraged as he helped Buck into an upright position, settling him against the pillows. “I think you’re due for painkillers, I’ll go grab them and get you some water. Stay put.” [Sleepy Mornings]

E: Eddie stretches up to kiss Tommy’s cheek, before darting forward and taking a chunk out of Tommy’s ice cream. He wrinkles his nose in distaste as the bitterly cold flavour of mint explodes in his mouth and lets out an exaggerated gag. [Disaster Date Fic]

H: He can’t pass out, he can’t fall asleep or he’ll never wake up. He needs to stay awake for Chris. Eddie stretches out his fingers, trying to reach Christopher’s hand but he’s too far. He’s got to get to his son, he’s got to – [Frostpunk AU]

E: Eddie raises his hands in surrender and reaches out to touch Shannon’s belly. Its taut, firmer than usual and stretched thin over the bulge of her uterus. As he touches, Eddie feels it soften beneath his fingertips, and Shannon seems to relax a bit, her breathing coming a little easier. [Secret Fic]

A: After meeting Buck in the NICU, the guy seems to pop up in just about every one of Eddie’s births. For the following five c-sections, the minute Eddie calls for pediatrics, there’s a tall, blond head poking into the OR, pink scrubs poking out from beneath his sterile gown and the tiny baby-sized stethoscope slung around his shoulders. [Doctor AU]

R: Recovering quickly, Tommy holds out his arms for Alfie, pressing a big kiss to his cheek as Buck lowers him into Tommy’s lap.

“Hi little man, why’re you still awake?” [Alfieverse]

T: The trip across the hall from his bedroom to the bathroom feels miles long as Buck balances on the balls of his feet, trying to be as quiet as humanly possible. He’s pretty sure that his heartbeat would be audible outside his body as it thunders in his chest. The closer he gets to the bathroom, the faster his breathing becomes. With a steadying breath, Buck grips the doorknob, and turns. [Single Dads AU]

Tags under the cut! Your word is LIGHT

I'm super late for this and a lot of you have probably been tagged so tagging @theotherbuckley @bidisasterevankinard @buckera @wikiangela @monsterrae1

@lonelychicago @cal-daisies-and-briars @bigfootsmom @rainbow-nerdss @jesuisici33

@bucksbignaturals @bekkachaos @actuallyitsellie @dorkydiaz and @queerdiaz if you guys wanna!

#james writes #evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #buddietommy #eddietommy #bucktommy #buddie #buddie wip #bucktommy wip #buddietommy wip #eddietommy wip #911 abc #911

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kisscara · 2 years ago

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could u do one with fatui scara and his spouse like a normal doting day??

home, with me. [scaramouche x gn!reader] ⎯⎯ angst mixed w/ fluff, fatui!scaramouche

a/n: was originally supposed to be cute and sappy but here we are.

the balladeer's spouse? oh, not a single soul would be able to know exactly how he ended up with such a person as them. kind, caring and thoughtful; it all seemed so odd. the fatui subordinates whisper amongst themselves, how your relationship with him is just for mora and... well, that.

in that case, everything would make perfect sense. both you and him would benefit from such a status. but what they didn't know was that you met him when he was still that sweet and vulnerable puppet, kunikuzushi. even though you were against the idea of him joining the fatui, you still chose to love and support him unconditionally.

"scaramouche," you softly call out, gracing his office with your presence. scaramouche simply gestures with a wave of his hand to close the door behind you and you do so. "come now, have you forgotten your promise already?" you query with a slight pout.

scaramouche leans back in his chair and finally removes his attention from the papers across his desk. "i haven't. i was just about to leave." scaramouche re-adjusts his hat and a rare smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he makes his way to you.

"did you eat yet?" scaramouche mumbles, holding your hand in his and opening the door. a fatui recruit standing by the frame flinches upon seeing you and him walking out. "don't ask me that! i don't have to eat for something like this," you coo in a matter that shows how hopelessly in love you are with him.

scaramouche scoffs, "still. i can't have you passing out if you haven't eaten properly." you cup the side of your face and hum, "oh my, how gentlemanly of my husband."

the two of you find a beautiful and secluded spot by the grounds of your shared house, choosing to have a peaceful picnic beneath a lovely sakura tree. as scaramouche lays out the blanket onto the grass, you comment, "it's been a while since we've spent time alone together, hasn't it?"

scaramouche removes his hat from his head and runs a hand through his hair. "it has. her majesty has been growing more and more impatient as the seconds fly past," he says. you sit next to him and hold a basket in your lap. "let's... forget about that for now. right now is the chance for us to make up for lost time."

scaramouche sighs, "you're right, darling." he queries, "what have you been up to without me around?" you start taking out plates from the basket and happily reply, "everything's been mundane. i go to the city every now and then to buy from the vendors and..."

scaramouche aids you in putting out the cutlery, "and?" you add, "i met a really kind guy the other day! his name is thoma and he's a housekeeper for the kamisatos." scaramouche narrows his eyes, "thoma, huh? sounds like a real nice guy." he emphasizes the 'real' part and this, you notice.

"don't worry, dear, he's just a friend," you reassure him, using a fork to stab into the strawberry perched on top of your cake slice. scaramouche grits his teeth, "when did i say i was worried, huh?" you hold up the fork by his lips and he tsks before eating the fruit.

because he doesn't like sweets, you always treat him to the fruits that come with it. "have i ever told you how cute you are?" you playfully prod. scaramouche hides the rising blush on his face by looking away. "definitely cuter than that thomas guy or whatever..."

you laugh in amusement at his antics. he dips the tip of his index finger into the whip cream of your strawberry shortcake and wipes it onto your nose. you blink a few times and he chuckles. you use a tissue to carefully clean it off, "how childish of you." you suddenly grin.

"your lips are so soft." the pads of your fingers gently caress his lips and scaramouche longingly gazes at you. you take another strawberry and bite into it. "i've always wondered what you'd look like with lipstick," you giggle. you dab the bitten strawberry against his lips, staining it into a sheen red.

scaramouche holds your wrist and uses his other hand to hold your face. you and him lean in, sharing a sweet kiss between lovers. the tangy flavor of strawberry sends your tastebuds into a tingling sensation as he deepens into you, quietly gasping in between kisses.

you pull away and he allows your arms to envelop his figure as you mutter against the crook of his neck, "can you stay home, just for tonight?" scaramouche frowns, "you know i can't do that." you tighten your embrace. "please?"

in response, your husband picks you up bridal style and brings you inside the house. even though he placed you onto the bed, you cling onto his neck with your arms, afraid he'll leave you the second you let go of him. scaramouche slowly removes your hold from him and he plants multiple kisses onto your hands.

he murmurs, "i'm sorry, my love, my darling. i really am but i can't stay much more than i already have." you're struck with silence and stare at him in a sorrowful way. however, he takes it as a reply, his heart twinging with pain as he walks to the door.

scaramouche stops in his tracks when he feels a tightened grip on his sleeve. he turns his head and finds you desperately hugging his arm. "can you stay with me until i fall asleep?" you ask. scaramouche tenses up and hesitantly looks at the front door before back to you.

he nods and leads you back to the bed. "i didn't know my spouse was this clingy." scaramouche's frail attempt at lightening the mood changes nothing. you rest your head onto his chest and shakily sigh. "i love you, (name)." scaramouche strokes your hair and you sniffle. "i love you too, kunikuzushi."

a few minutes later, can he hear your soft snores and easy breathing as you sleep away. scaramouche is careful to remove himself from the bed and he tucks you into the blanket. he presses a kiss to your tear stained face before leaving the house.

he passes by the area you and him had the picnic at and instantly looks the other way. it seems like it hurts more everytime he leaves you. he goes months without seeing you, sometimes even years but this time, scaramouche swears he won't be gone for too long.

when he returns, he'll have completed his plan of stealing the gnosis to become a God. 'wait a little bit, (name). i'll come back.' scaramouche's solemn gaze returns to that of a cold one, returning to his identity of the balladeer himself as he continues the life of a ruthless harbinger.

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galaxyshine24-7 · 11 months ago

Note

Deuce trying to protect the idea that the NRC is an ideal place for a family- Look, my mother raised me alone in the NRC and I'm fine

Yui- So good that when he was under 18 he already joined a gang and his life expectancy is less than 40 years, as he can be killed in different ways

Exactly, many of the boys not just Deuce try to convince Yuu that NRC isn't that bad. However, they always get shot down with Yuu's logical thinking.

I felt inspired to write a dabble about it. I hope you enjoy.

A Brighter Future

It is a cold day in NRC as snow softly falls along the street. The light from the Silver Bullet creates a warm glow inviting those to come inside and enjoy a hot drink.

Yuu tends the bar as always making a cup of hot chocolate for themselves and their customers who decided to remain rather late after an important meeting. It is an end-of-the-year occasion where the leaders invite any members they deem worthy to tag along.

It has been a chaotic year with many events and secrets being revealed. The one reveal on everyone's minds is the future desires of their usually secretive bartender. It was a big shock to uncover one of their deepest desires, but it also left a worried thought in all the boys heads.

Yuu wants to leave NRC one day to start a family. No one really leaves NRC, but the more the bartender insists the more the boys have to take it seriously. So now comes the challenge to find ways to keep Yuu from leaving.

"You know Yuu," Deuce leans against the counter rubbing the back of his neck. "I grew up here with my mom and it's pretty safe." Deuce tries to bring up the subject gently having practiced ways to convince the bartender that they can feel safe here.

"Deuce your mother did a wonderful job raising you, but you joined a gang at a young age. Not to mention it's encouraged for young people like you to join gangs basically signing your life away, and it's almost impossible to get out of them in one piece." Yuu puts whipped cream on the drinks sprinkling them with chocolate powder before handing one to Deuce.

"Well uh-" Deuce is speechless as he takes the drink.

"Oh come on it's not that serious." Ace chimes in leaning against the counter sucking on a candy can.

"Ace I literally found you in a dumpster beaten up." Ace winces at the memory and so does Riddle who has been listening to the conversation off to the side.

"I get what you guys are trying to do, but I will not be convinced." Yuu starts to hand out the rest of the drinks.

"But to just up and leave." Epel pouts taking a sip of his drink.

"It's not like you'll never hear from me again I'll call, you guys didn't think I'll be a bartender for the rest of my life did you?" Yuu places the rest of the drinks on a tray to hand out to the others. The first years watch Yuu walk away to hand out the drinks around the bar.

"Deuce what was that?! You said you practiced?" Ace exclaims.

"I did, I just didn't expect that response, they are... kind of right." Deuce slumps his shoulders. "My mom wasn't the happiest with me joining the gang."

"Yuu's thinking isn't wrong, this life isn't desirable to most." Jack crosses his arms.

"So do you want them to leave?" Ace snaps.

"No," Jack's tail puffs up as he looks away.

"Ortho can you run statics some sort of statics?" Ace looks at the robot child.

"I have, but no matter how much I manipulate them NRC is not desirable option for people to live." Ortho sighs.

"So then we have nothing?" Ace rest his head on the counter.

"We can still convince them." Deuce tries to remain positive, but the first years have seen how stubborn the bartender can be.

"So I guess it's back to the drawing board as you humans say." Sebek shakes his head sipping his hot chocolate.

Silly first years the leaders and their vice captains have already come up with many plots to keep the bartender right here where they need to be. The young ones just need to leave it too the older folk to set things right.

#twisted wonderland #silver bullet au #twst silver bullet au #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #asks #twisted wonderland x reader

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lovedrots · 2 years ago

Text

little moments

iii . little moments - p.p. x reader ᥫ᭡

synopsis : you spend the last days of your trip to italy with the boy you admire most. ( includes one-bed!trope and mutual pining )

warnings : creepy pedo old(ish) men, mild swearing, very, very rushed. this is the first time i have written in a while. :( unedited, not proof-read !!

a/n : this is my first time writing in . . . a long time ! so please note that this likely isn’t very smooth, nor is it proof-read / edited. also i am begging you guys to give me requests in my inbox .. i gotta write more !!

word count : 6,921

italy ; 1:56 p.m.

venice was supposed to be fun.

this was supposed to be your opportunity to get away from your parents, to live out your cliche teenage late-night dreams with your closest friend, betty.

but instead, you were stuck trailing her and her new boy-toy, ned leeds.

it wasn’t that you didn’t like ned. no, he was funny. kind. but what bothered you was that he had wormed his way right into the middle of your plans. betty and you had put together list of what you wanted to do: sneak out at night to drink hot cocoa on the roof, pet the pigeons, take every boat you saw … of course, those were all thrown out the window.

and it didn’t really help, that ned’s best friend, peter parker wasn’t around. you hoped that he would at least have his – rather cute – best friend by his side, but it seemed that even he wasn’t content on watching ned and betty suck each other’s faces off.

understandable.

turning your attention from the pale waters, you tried to catch your blonde friend’s gaze – mission failed. you pursed your lip, fingers picking at each other. you were getting antsy, with a need to go something. anything.

“have you guys checked out the saint mark’s basilica yet?” you quipped, sliding in front of them. you were sick of trailing them like a helpless dog.

“doesn’t look fun,” ned muttered, dark eyes glued to betty’s grinning face. and the other didn’t even think it proper to reply. neither of them seemed to notice you, as they brushed past, the girl’s shoulder bumping yours in the process.

your face flushed with something resembling anger – both because of their lack of attention, and the fact that you may have been a little jealous of the couple. just a little. who wouldn’t be? sure, you could say they were just in the honeymoon phase, but the way they looked at each other still had you yearning for more than your life offered. when would you get to experience that? just thinking about it had you kicking your feet, fireworks going off in your tummy.

though you would never admit it, some nights, you would imagine yourself sleeping beside someone. it made you feel … safe, when no one else did.

that’s when you realized that you had stopped dead in your tracks, ned and betty out of sight. you frantically looked around, e/c eyes scanning heads as you stood on your toes. shit. gone.

“lost, amore?” a old, sultry voice rasped. you turned to see a man – likely in his fifties – looking you up and down. though he was smiling, it was certainly nothing kind.

lost? you weren’t lost. just exploring, yeah? you knew where you were; the cream walls, beige roof of the building to your left … the totally familiar waters …

okay, sure. you were lost.

but you couldn’t tell a stranger that!

“no, sir,” you replied, and though you tried to put strength into your voice, it still managed to come out as nothing more than a squeak. “i was just – just looking around. i’ve been here tons of times.”

you began inching backwards, uncomfortable with the older man and unfamiliarity of the situation. though you were sure he had no ill intentions, (were you?) you were rather put off by his use of such an intimate name. after all, you were a teenager; very obviously one, too.

“please, miss! you look –”

you stumbled into a hard surface, warmth seeping into your back, an oomph leaving whatever it is that you crashed into.

you spun on your heel, whipping your head up to look at – peter parker. oh, just the person you needed to see, you thought, sarcasm pounding your head. your gaze shot from man to boy, as if unsure where to focus. you were jet-lagged, disoriented, and maybe a little creeped out.

setting your eyes on peter, you tried to channel your feelings of long (momentary) suffering through the irises. though, in all honesty, you probably looked like a drunken madwoman. but when your e/c eyes met his, the honey-brown so enchanting, you felt a little more secure. it wasn’t quite a warm, safe blanket; after all, you didn’t really know the boy. you’d only watched him from afar. stuffing books in his locker (they often fell out), sneakily mixing chemicals in the lab (you could never tell what, exactly, it was), tapping his foot to taylor swift songs when he thought so one was looking.

yeah, you were smitten.

“sorry mister;” came his wavering voice, “she’s got me!”

sorry? you ‘got him?’ needless to say, you were baffled. never had you ever spoken to the brunette, yet he was acting as if you were the best of pals. you gave him a quizzical look, nearly crossing your arms. but the silence, the bothered look on the elder’s face, had you playing along. “pete!” you choked out, the nickname forcing itself through your teeth, “i was looking everywhere for you.”

“i was down by the – the docks,” he quipped, scratching the nape of his neck. he – rather reluctantly – placed his palm on your shoulder. Though his composure was stiff, and his acting skills horrible, you had no other choice.

feigning annoyance, you crossed your arms, thick brows knitting. “you could’ve answered my texts!” for the fun of it, you fished your cell phone from your back pocket, swinging it between your fingers.

he huffed, tapping his foot. now you were really getting into it, the little squabble. “my phone was dead! you try replying to messages with a pitch-black screen?”

the two of you shot back and fourth for god knew how long, pointing, grumbling, and prodding at each other. To the two of your, your humorous scene was only a few moments long. but, by the time you’d calmed down, laughter at the tips of your tongues, the man had drifted away. last you had checked, he was staring down the two of you with awe and anger, mouth opening and closing each time there was a heartbeat of silence, as if to interject.

the giggles finally bubbled up, leaving your lips in a string of gurgles as you attempted to suppress them. your newfound travel companion, upon hearing your racket, couldn’t help but explode. Peter doubled over, clamping a hand to his mouth, as if to stifle his guffaws; but, it was no use. both of you look utterly insane, like drugged maniacs.

but he thought your laughter was one of the prettiest things he had ever heard.

though, you didn’t know that. you were convinced that you sounded like a crow that had just drunken twelve bottles of whiskey. plus, you were too busy admiring his joy, through the whisps of hair that fell into your face as he chuckles subsided.

you averted your eyes, pupils refusing to shrink back. “thanks. for helping me back there, i mean. that guy was … something.”

he nodded in agreement, a boyish, lopsided grin plastered to his face. “oh, um, anytime!”

you suspected he would be on his way. that he’d turn around, and you would be left alone again.

instead, he analyzed you, head to toe; the hydrangea-print top, the sun-kissed cheeks and nose. you thought you looked like a sloppily put-together mess, but peter thought you looked dream-worthy. “i didn’t know you knew who i am.” he said once he collected his thoughts.

you blinked, your only sign of surprise, ‘till you spoke. “who doesn’t know peter parker? you’re basically the only reason our decathlon team wins every show-down. smartest guy we know!”

was that too much? perhaps you had made him uncomfortable. you only just topped yourself before you could have slipped out something along the lines of, plus, you’re gorgeous. very handsome. i like to watch you in class, you’re so pretty.

but, even when he wore an embarrassed blush on his cheeks, his grin grew impossibly wider, his chest puffing in pride. “i mean – i try. not the smartest, though. try mr. stark. he’s a real genius,” he rambled. “and, hey, you’re pretty smart, too. mrs. warren seems to like you! you always get good grades in her class.”

“you notice?” you rose a brow.

“well, i sit directly behind you, so it’s kind of hard not to listen to it. that’s the only reason. it’s not like i’m a stalker or anything!”

of course, he wasn’t watching you because of some feelings. it was just by chance. if you sat at the opposite end of the room, he probably wouldn’t even know that you’re in his class, for thor’s sake.

needless to say, you were butthurt. but you couldn’t let it show through.

even so, you only found the strength to nod, watching the waters of venice ripple. how could you have gotten your hopes up? you rubbed your arms, droplets of the rivers spraying them with each crash of the tides. you hated the silence. it was your chance; your chance to prove that you were worth becoming friends with. but your awkwardness, your shyness, kept you from saying a word.

you looked up at his face, expecting him to be looking right back – but instead, those puppy eyes were glued elsewhere, to the dark wood planks at your feet.

maybe, he was as nervous as you were.

you cleared your throat, shifting your posture a few more times than it would be, if you were casual. “you haven’t got anyone else, or any plans right now … right?” you tried, foot tapping.

“No, no no!” he quickly ushered, hands that were once behind his back now set in a defensive position. “none at all. i just wanted to walk around, y’know?” he bit his already rouge lips, the action only emphasizing the color in his face. “d’you want to join me? if you don’t, that’s fine! i mean, we only just really met, and it might seem kind of weird. not that i’m weird. am i? i don't think so, i just –”

oh, you were helpless for this man. the way he went on a tangent, deep eyes sparking, you had fallen far before you could really acknowledge it. your stomach was doing summersaults, head feeling light, but not quite dizzy. when were you going to wake up from this dream? you wanted to pinch yourself.

“oh, no, i’d love to . . weirdo,” you added with a quick wink. you weren’t flash, after all; you’d never intentionally bully the poor guy.

peter shook his head, curls bouncing as his face contorted further into a content happiness.

you slipped your phone into the front pocket of your jeans, slipping past him to launch into a slow stroll. you almost instinctively reached out a hand for him to take, as though to guide him, but you pulled away as quick as it came up.

the two of you were oh-so close, shoulders nudging every so often as you walked. it wasn’t always this way; at first, you’d been feet upon feet apart. but as you spoke, you seemed to gravitate towards the enter – or, towards each other.

“but, blueberry pie has such a good balance of sweetness, and the texture is so much more . . it’s just nicer!” you insisted, upon peter bringing up his favorite pie.

“but –” he countered, “that place down the street from delmars? best cherry pie ever.”

you shrugged, mocking offense. “well, i’ve never had it! how should i know?”

he scoffed, hand to his heart. “fine. when we get back from europe, first thing we’re doing? i’m taking you there. and ordering two slices of cherry pie, extra ice-cream.’

if we even make it that far, you wanted to mutter, but held your tongue. instead. you jabbed at his shoulder. “yeah, yeah. i’m holding you to that.”

your bantering, since the little skit you put on, never seemed to stop. but your differences never made your heart beat less for him; it only made you more curious. one of the most interesting, being his view on heroes in comparison to yours.

“i appreciate them; i do,” you had said, “but they can’t save us all. kids still go missing. murders still happen. it’s impossible to stop.”

“but they try! they’re humans, too,” he countered. though his tone was harsher than you were used to, you didn’t miss the kindness, the understanding, in his eyes.

“i know,” you said softly. “but – they always say they’re going to ‘save everyone.’” you paused, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “it’s – it’s why i like spider-man, actually.”

you found it curious, how his eyes widened, and his cheeks grew crimson. “what do you mean?” he squeaked out.

“well; he’s not like those other heroes. he looks out for all of us. robberies, drunk drivers … stuff that most of the avengers wouldn’t bother watching out for. i admire him.”

“somebody’s gotta watch out for the little guys,” he murmured as if you couldn’t hear. and those words, stuck in the back of your mind for the rest of the day.

somebody’s gotta look out for the little guys, huh?

italy, 6:34 p.m.

it was dusk, by the time you had left again. hours before, peter parker had walked you to your hotel, where you weren’t surprised to find betty missing. likely with ned, peter had scoffed. you nodded, shrugging. at least you has some peace to yourself. you had shared an awkward moment before he left; he had gone in for a side-hug, while you had expected a full-on one. this had both of you struggling to find a comfortable way to meet, before you settled on a less-than-shitty … fist bump. yeah. a fist bump.

you groaned at the memory, shaking your head. you needed something to clear your head. and that ‘something’ was a boat ride!

you wove through the busy streets, eyes glued onto the boat-stop, humming with delight as you watched one pull into view and –

“rose, lovely?”

you jolted once more, struck into reality as a man in a cap resembling a beanie held out a singular red rose. you shook your head, cursing yourself for not avoiding the packed walkways.

“american, yes?” he tried again, signaling the flower in his hand with the dip of his head.

opening your mouth to offer a curt reply, you instead felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. “um – hi, sorry to interrupt, man. y/n?”

you quickly spun to see peter parker behind you, yet again. “peterrr … hi!!” you quipped, a fake grin splat on the panes of your face.

“hey,” he smiled back, sliding his fingers from your shoulderblade to your hand, entwining them with yours. “let’s get our boat, yeah?” he gave your hand a gentle tug towards the dock, his other occupied with a small pale bag, making a point to raise the one holding yours just enough for the capped boy to see. and, though you shouldn’t have, you squeezed his palm just a little tighter. to remind the fluttering of your heart, that it was real.

when you sat on the slick bench of he raft, peter, alarmed by the pools of water on said bench, shrugged his jacket off, swiftly placing it where you were aiming just before you took your seat. you gave him a quizzical look, to which he replied, “i just – i just didn’t want your jeans to be ruined! they’re pretty.” his voice wavered, soft.

his little display of respect had you over the moon. and though everyone else was out of sight, you hadn’t let go. side by side, hands clasped, the two of you seemed to look opposite ways. you towards the city lights, and peter towards the open waters. but, in reality? you were looking at each other when the other turned away. it was like a game of whack-a-mole, to catch one another red handed. the few times your eyes met, you felt your skin ignite.

the entire ride, not a word was exchanged. but you never moved away. you would feel the occasional squeeze to your hand, which you would respond with one of equal gentleness. They seemed to communicate, ‘is this okay?’

it was short, sweet, the crossing not lasting anything more than ten minutes. when you stepped out, you seemed frozen. his irises, illuminated by fairy lights, were so sweet, like pools of milk chocolate.

but, nothing good lasts forever. the worker on the boat coughed once. twice.

right; money.

you slid your hands into your pockets, grabbing from your wallet … but the boat as gone as soon as you looked back up. peter was sliding a wrecked, leather-bound square back into his pants. you sighed deeply, rolling your eyes. “oh, please. you couldn’t have let me pay you back at least once?”

“pay me back for what?” he asked innocently.

you scoffed, dropping the wallet back where it came. “yeah, yeah, mister hero …” you shook your head, though you could feel tingles of a smile warping the edges of your lips. he had let got of your hand to pay, and though it did not find yours again, you could feel the ghost of his touch linger on your skin. “we have got to stop meeting like this,” you added, referring to the assistance he offered you. two times, now, had he led you away from odd men in this foreign land.

peter shrugged, fiddling with the handle of his paper bag. “at least i means we meet, somehow.” though his words came off as casual, there was a strain in his voice. as if he wanted to say more. “besides; if i didn’t turn out, where else would you be?”

rolling your eyes, your eyes followed the sun, watching it sink below the horizon. “i had it covered …” but, upon seeing his face drop a fraction, you felt yourself soften like warm wax. “okay, maybe i didn’t. you saved my ass, i admit it.” you rose your hands in surrender, a tight-lipped beam lighting your face.

he seemed to perk right up, like a dog receiving praise, posture straightening with delight. you could practically envision a wagging tail.

and you didn’t mind it, when your fingers drifted into his once more as you led each other back to where your class was gathered.

italy, 2:12 a.m.

you kicked your feet beneath the thick bedsheets, the absence of your friend hitting you like a ton of bricks. originally, the two of you planned to stay up late in face-masks, drinking smoothies and eating chocolates. but, where was she now?

with her new boyfriend, obviously. and thor knew how the hell betty managed to sneak into his room.

actually – never mind. your teachers were too much of a deadbeat, to pay attention to the lot of you the middle of the night.

you wrestled with the duvet for a few more moments, both hot and cold wrecking your body. blanket on? too hot. blanket off? too cold. how did people even manage, in such conditions?

you felt your feet touch the fuzz of your slippers as you swung up, laced night-dress crinkling against linen. you wanted to sleep, so badly, yet it never came. each time you closed your eyes, stars would appear, and you would replay your walk home with peter in your head. it was all so strange. you had met only today, really, and it felt like he was your ‘soulmate.’

or, maybe it was you trying to convince yourself that things could work out between you and the coffee-eyed boy.

you kicked your legs, emitting soft thuds to the mattress, unsure of what to do. you’d tried listening to ambience between the time of 1:34 to 1:56, but that didn’t seem to work, though it often times did. you also attempted the classic, ‘counting sheep.’ but, when does that ever really work. you even got so distracted, that you had begun to name the damned sheep that were jumping over your little imaginary fence.

your personal favorites were sir mcwooly and baaa-rney.

toddling over to the small desk by the hotel’s queen’s bed, you rubbed your arms, feeling the goosebumps spiking up on your skin. you sat on the swiveling chair, the small lamp as blinding as the sun when you turned it on. you seethed, squinting as you made a grab for the miniature sketchpad and pen assortment you had packed

you scribbled away, filling pages with tiny stars, before your hand began to flow out portraits of your friends. first, betty; with her shining blonde hair, her sugar-sweet grin. you doodled her and ned, despite the small crack in your heart at the thought of them so happy together. you drew them on the flight together, when you had been kicked out your seat to sit behind them, watching the new couple giggle through the cracks. you added little notes, complaining about their mushiness, about how empty they made you feel.

Needless to essay, the page was ripped from the booklet.

your pen found it’s way to paper once again, this time, the lines forming the familiar silhouette of peter. you started with his doe-brown eyes, making emphasis on the shining in them, the familiarity. though you enjoyed drawing each part of him, something about those eyes had you grounded to them. and it showed; when you were finished – or, more specifically, you noted how cliche you were acting – anyone could see the emphasis you’d placed on his irises. darker than all else in the portrait, white cut-outs of hearts and stars, if you looked close enough, bright against the ink.

you shook your head, gingerly, not to break the paper, tearing the page from the notebook. you set it aside, atop your previous project. the cold was getting to you; you were shaking like a wet dog, and, god, did you feel like you were sick. the small blotches of pen-gel on your hands didn’t help the look. it was like you were catching the plague.

padding for the suitcase propped against the wall, you dug through it, slipping a alpaca-fur sweater over your head. it would leave a mess of hairs, later, but in the moment, it was worth the suffering.

only issue was, your hands were still cold as ever. but you knew just what to do.

italy, 2:59 a.m.

the aroma of milk chocolate wafted through the room, the small kitchen’s floorboards creaking as you twirled and bobbed your head like a bird. you had your earbuds shoved deep into your ears, ramones blasting through the tiny speakers. you were careful to avoid the odd, slimy bits in the floor. though venice was a beautiful city, your academy didn’t seem inclined on letting the lot of you stay in a nice hotel.

whatever; the trip was free, anyways. you’d take what you could get.

you dipped your spatula into the thick, italian-style cocoa, buzzing with delight as you licked a speck of the liquid from your finger. heavy, yet delicious. even just a drop, was like a cup’s worth of flavor of those sad, little packets of hot-chocolate at home.

you poured a bit of the mixture into a small mug, surprised to find a good half of it left in the pot. you groaned, realizing that you did not, in fact, have a personal fridge to store the drink in for later. and you didn’t trust anyone from your class to not steal it from the hotel’s storage unit, if you chose to keep it there.

you’d have to gulp down the whole damned container. it was like sipping on melted-down icing.

you absent-mindedly poured the rest into a matching cup, grumbling at the spare dish you’d clean. you whispered the lyrics to the song playing through your ipod, foot tapping – rather noisily – on the old wood planks.

but, your peace was short-lived.

a small voice seemed to echo you, repeating the very lyrics you thought only you could hear. you pulled one of the buds out, head whipping about until you came face-to-face with peter, who was leant against the cracked doorframe, muttering to the very lyrics you were whispering.

you froze up, quarter-full pot in hand. like a deer in the headlights. “a ramones fan?” you squeaked out as soon as you remembered that you had a voice.

“yeah – yeah. they’re cool,” he replied with equal eagerness. though he made an attempt to look casual, the constant shift in position and blush staining his cheeks opposed it. “how many song d’you know?”

“not many. this just showed up on my playlist, i guess,” you clarified, not quite meeting his gaze.

“oh! that’s fine. music is kinda subjective. and the ramones aren’t exactly in style now, so –”

you cut the poor boy off with a chuckle, holding out a cup of chocolate to him. “now, don’t undermine your tastes over me. hell, i’d be happy to listen sometime.”

“really?” the panes of his face seemed to heighten with joy. “awesome. people don’t usually .. they don’t tend care about that, y’know?”

you nodded, letting go of the mug as he took hold if it’s handle, fingers brushing yours with a spark. “it’s the little things that matter, though. i mean, imagine having someone who just knows everything about you like that?”

he gazed into the cup with wonder, as if pondering your words. “yeah … i mean. it would be easier than having to explain every little thing to ned,” he stuffy joked, scratching at his neck (again; a habit, it seemed) as if there was a switch to turn his awkward energy off.

you gave a polite giggle, leaning over the dusty counter, drink in hand. this silence seemed to be a reoccurring thing between the two of you. you would look anywhere, but each other, until you caught one-another red handed in the act. each time your eyes met, you melted a little, seeing the warmth behind them. and a sprinkle of something else. something dark. lonely. sad.

peter cautiously swiped a tinge of chocolate from the inner rim of the pot, tasting it, with a hum of approval. he took a soggy paper towel off the rack, wiping his fingers free of the sweet treat, before clearing his throat once. twice.

you looked back up, watching him frantically digging through the pockets of his jeans; front left. front right. back left. back right.

… the item he was looking for was, actually, in his hoodie.

when he at last came across it, a wide grin spread across his face, a depiction of relief. you caught a glimpse of red, shining against the soft light of the kitchen lamp.

“turn around?” he pleaded, fiddling with … whatever it was.

though you weren’t sure if you could trust it, the innocent, hopeful look on his face had your knees weak. so you obeyed.

you nearly gasped as you felt warm, calloused hands caress your neck, shifting your hair over your right shoulder. and as, in contrast, a cool metal chain was placed around your throat. as he clasped it together, he seemed to linger there, hands unnecessarily raking through your strands.

not that you minded.

you took the jewelry – a necklace – between your fingers, heart puddling to find a rose made of red glass resting on your skin. “oh, pete … why?”

“i just – i-admire-you, you-know? i-mean,have-you-seen-how-you-work-in-decathlon? or-how-you-help-mrs. warren, even-though-she-can-be-a-little … difficult. not-that-she’s-bad! no! and, um. you’re-gorgeous. not-in-a-creepy-way, but – still. yeah.”

boy, was he out of breath. you could barely understand a thing he said. “peter … i seriously didn’t catch a word of that. slow down, yeah?”

his cheeks grew scarlet as he nodded. “i was just saying that i, kind of, admire you i guess?”

you blinked, fingers that were fidgeting with the bud now frozen. “you admire me? peter parker? well, i must’ve done something right,” you laughed – not quite understanding that his words were, actually, a confession, and not words similar to that of a student and a mentor.

you didn’t catch the grimace of disappointment that passed over his face.

“right … yeah. of course,” he assured, taking a large step back. did your breath smell? you pondered, shoulders tensing. but he only padded to the spare cup, giving you a look of inquiry – to which you nodded – as he picked the ceramic up, taking a swig from the thick drink. you grinned as he pulled away from the mug, upper lip lined with deep brown.

“you’ve got something there,” you quipped, jutting your chin towards his face. he took a swipe at his mouth, missing the small puddle by an inch or two. again. again. by the time he’d given up, you were struggling not to spill your hot chocolate as you guffawed. you tip-toed to his silhouette, napkin in hand, and quickly swiped the dessert off his skin. “there, dork. all fixed up,” you declared.

the smile on his lips quivered, as though to keep it from turning into a full-on, toothy smirk. you lingered, body soaking up the heat radiating off of him. how you longed to touch him, to feel his skin against yours. and oh, gods, how he smelled. warm apple pie, laced with fresh rain.

you wondered if he tasted just as sweet.

but you couldn’t think that way. you shouldn’t have. what you wanted, what you knew, was nothing more than a fantasy. you only ever watched peter parker from the sidelines. hell, you didn’t know what his favorite food was. his favorite colors. all you knew was his favorite subject, how he tugged at his curls while we was stressed. the way he bounced his leg as your teacher spoke, pink lip tugged between his teeth. though, you could never really tell if he was really focusing; the boy’s eyes were always glossy, clouded. like he wasn’t really there. at this point, you were confident he lived inside his laptop screen.

except for the fact that he answered every damned question he was asked.

seriously, it had you rethinking your own intellect.

you didn’t grin back, your own foolishness taking a toll on your mood. you stumbled your way to the sink, his heat leaving your body feeling empty. setting your mug down with a clunk, you couldn’t meet peter’s curious gaze. “i’ve – got to sleep. early day tomorrow, yeah?” your voice was weak, no matter how hard you tried to bring humor to it.

and as you tuned to leave, what you didn’t catch, was the crushed look on your love interest’s face.

the moment you had reached your hotel, you were rather dejected to see betty missing. you scoffed, face-planting on your side of the queen-sized bed, right hand unconsciously shooting up to protect the glass art around your neck from the harsh impact. you gripped it just a fraction tighter as you sighed into the pillows, the heaviness of silence dragging anxiety from the depth of your heart.

it took you a few minutes, to find the strength to get up. but when you did, you slipped into a silken night gown, wrapping your skin in a thick robe to protect it from the cold air. your face was slathered in a gray mask, hair pushed back by a baby-blue headband. you could feel the clay on your face drying, sending a strange tingling sensation through your flesh. ick.

your eyes welled with disappointment as you stared at yourself in the mirror. were you selfish, for wanting your best friend back? you were supposed to be doing this together, face-masks and all. but instead, you had been abandoned for some guy. you blinked back your worries, determined not to let your sullied mood ruin your almost perfectly dried clay. instead, you took a deep exhale, eyes trained on the knob of the hotel’s front door.

it was as if you had summoned it with your eyes; a sharp, quick knock at the dead of night.

you blinked, almost confident that you had been hearing things. but it came again, once. twice. three timed, before you approached it, scowling. if she was going to stay so long with her boyfriend, why come back now?

“you should have just stayed where you were,” you bit out as you swung the door wide open, huffing. your voice was venom, and deep down, you were sure you’d overreacted. but you were hurt. “really, bett! it’s – what – three in the –”

were betty’s eyes always such a deep shade of brown? you didn’t remember her hair being so short.

oh.

you blinked back your angry tears, wishing you could take each little word back. you’d been a fool, for lashing out at your friend – much less, the wrong one. you rubbed your eyes, barely missing the crusted clay inches beneath. “peter?” you coughed.

“bad timing?” he swallowed, taking a step back from the door; an offer to leave, if you so chose. you felt your heart crack, just a fraction, as you shook your head quickly, opening your door a bit wider.

“more like, bad situation,” you shrugged, far too embarrassed to look him in the eye. “what . . .” you continued, “what are you here for?”

peter’s mouth pinched, as if he was thinking carefully for his next line of words. “i got kicked out,” he finally admitted, a sheepish grin pulling at the panes of his face. “betty took my side of the bed, and i didn’t really want to listen to them flirt all night.”

you giggled, a warm rush coating your skin as you nodded. “you should have seen them earlier,” you replied, spirits lifted with his caring presence. “i couldn’t even get a hold of the girl, for god’s sake. she’s infatuated.” you took a deep breath. the memory wounded you, but it felt nice – to laugh about it with someone who understood. “did you . . want to come in?” you finally asked after a heartbeat, suddenly feeling self-conscious. you looked like a grizzly bear, in your fluffy turtleneck and your dark clay mask.

but he didn’t seem to mind. hell, little did you know, he thought you looked beautiful. sure, he enjoyed watching you from his seat in chemistry. enjoyed gazing at you as you bit your lip while working through an equation, or how you raked your hand through your hair idly, when your fingers had little to do. but above all, he enjoyed this the most. you, in your rawest, most natural state.

“yes. yes, please,” he quipped, slipping past you, into your dimly lit hotel. you trailed after him, the air far heavier than it had been moments ago. what were you to do? the boy you’d been eyeing for ages now stood in the center of your room, looking lost and helpless.

sucking on a tooth, you sighed, “just . . . sit, yeah?” you pulled out the office chair to your right, rolling it just behind him, like the gentleman (gentlewoman, you supposed) you were. “i’ve got to wash this—“ you gestured to your skin, caked in product, “—off my face.”

you excused yourself with a forced grin, despite the butterflies in your stomach. even if you were happy, you were far more bashful than anything else. you gazed into the mirror as you shut the bathroom door behind you, noting the texture of your skin, the dryness of your lips, the bags beneath your eyes. you looked like the devil herself, ruined and exhausted.

you gently scrubbed the mask off, turning the mini-towel you had brought a light grey, so as not to irritate your skin. you didn’t want to teeter out looking like a seeded strawberry.

once your skin shone with water, not a trace of dirt beneath, you dug through your bag for a plethora of items; chapstick, moisturizer, a nightgown, a hairbrush . . . it took you little over twenty minutes, to took anything like the girl you were, this morning.

slipping out the washroom, you tugged at the sleeves of your nightgown, the beige a contrast to the deep red trousers he had chosen.

“so!” you clapped, falling back onto the plush mattress of the hotel bed. “you can take the bed, and i will take the . . . couch.” though it was soggy, and looked a strange color, you couldn't bear the guilt of making him sleep on it. he’d already been kicked from him own room, for christ’s sake.

you had expected relief to wash over his face, but instead, he panicked. “no. no! i can’t let you do that,” he gave you a pointed look, his eyes darting between the cushions and you. “i intruded. i’ll take the couch,” he announced, sitting up a bit straighter.

you were having none of it. “oh, please. you cured my loneliness. i wasn’t the one who got kicked out of my own hotel, was i?”

the brunette’s lips tightened, as though he was about to give in. you watched him hopefully, your tummy fluttering with absolutely glee as a sigh loosened. “yeah. yeah, okay.” he broke out in a grin, and though it looked sweet . . . mischief lurked beneath it. “if,” he continued, peter’s nervous aura replaced with a sly air, “and only if you’re willing to share. i know those couches suck, probably full of germs and mold . . .”

you cringed, remembering the soggy floorboards and furniture of the foyer. did you really want to sleep on . . . that? you could already feel the stale, reeking water encasing your arms. shaking your head, you finally replied. “you’re . . . awfully stubborn. fine. only because i can’t stand the smell.”

the boy before you, however, seemed taken aback, cheeks glowing a red hue. had he not expected you to agree? you stifled a giggle behind a cough, padding to the bed, testing the springs of the mattress with your fingers. “are you tired?”

“very,” he admitted, wincing. “being out all day . . . yeah.”

“right.” guilt washed over you. it was your fault, wasn’t it? you had wanted to explore, and he complied, for your benefit. you sat, patting the space to your right. “please, sleep. i’ll be in soon! i just need to text bett.”

he looked up at you curiously, honey-brown eyes sparkling in the dim light.

you giggled, resisting the urge to ruffle his already-messy hair. “i don’t want her coming back in te morning to a boy in my bed, with no explanation.”

“oh. oh.” his expression as it kicked in, had you rolling. he was distressed, burning up, his words incoherent and quick as lightning. you – gently – slapped his shoulder.

“get your mind out of the gutter, and go to bed,” you ordered, leaping to your feet to retrieve your phone. you could hear the rusting of duvets and sheets, as he settled in. and only then, did you let yourself really think. you had just invited your gods-forsaken crush to sleep in your bed. with you in it. you were so wound up in nerves, you didn’t even text your friend. you doubted she’d even come back, anyways.

so you simply stood there, for a few minutes, simply . . . watching. watching the way his lashes fluttered, the pattern of his breathing. he fell asleep widely fast, already steady and deep in his dreams. you tip-toed back, until you were slipping into the now-warmed cotton, humming in content. the sound of his breaths, his subtle heartbeat, lullied you to sleep like a sweet song.

the last thing you felt, that night, were his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist.

italy, 9:34 a.m.

it was cold, when you woke up. freezing, in fact. that human warmth from the night before . . . it was gone, but what did you expect? a romantic morning-after scene? you two hadn’t even kissed for christs sake.

you laid there, feeling defeated. had you just made things awkward, between the two of you? would you ever get to speak to one another again, or would he avoid you? but, eh wasn’t like that, was he? no, he was kind, and sweet. and he wanted to share, no? he offered, and you accepted. he couldn’t do this to you.

almost an hour passed before you got up, soles of your feet warm against the ice-cold flooring.

and that’s when you saw it. a single note, crumpled and messy, on your nightstand, amongst the pile of drawings – a few missing, you noticed. his.

oh, shit.

you picked up the sheet of paper, eyes scanning the pages, reading each syllable aloud to yourself.

“you know, it’s rude to draw someone without showing them. i’m awfully offended, and am keeping these!

. . . not because i don’t like them. i love them. a lot. god, you’re talented. they’re cute.

i would have stayed. i wanted to. but i had an emergency, from mr. stark, and didn’t want to wake you with a call, y’know? please don’t be upset. i liked last night. i haven’t slept so well, in a while. maybe it’s a sign we should do it again? if you wanted? maybe?

– peter.”

perhaps this trip wasn’t so bad, after all, you decided as you tucked away the sheet. you’d keep it forever, if you could.

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader #peter parker fluff #spiderman #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #peter parker x you #tom holland

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sugdenlovesdingle · 4 months ago

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this was supposed to be a Bucktommy focus version of this ficlet (Buck & TK owning a coffee shop and Tommy and Carlos being regular customers) but it turned into more of a first meeting AU thing. And it got kind of long.

---

"Before we start your grand tour of LA, I need coffee." Tommy said, greeting his new neighbour Carlos. The guy had moved in next door to him about a week ago, and after talking to him and finding out he'd barely made it to the end of their street yet, Tommy had offered to show him the city.

"Alright. Are there any good places around here?'

Tommy smiled.

"Yeah I know just the place."

They'd decided to take Tommy's car so Carlos could sit back and check out the city without having to deal with traffic.

He drove them to a coffee shop he'd discovered a few months ago. He'd taken a short cut to get to work because he'd been running late and a rainbow flag had caught his eye.

Apparently the place had just opened and Tommy had made a mental note to check it out when he had more time.

The first time he'd actually gone in, there had been a fairly cute guy behind the counter. Definitely attractive and apparently a huge flirt, but not exactly the kind of guy Tommy tended to go for.

Though he was only human and he enjoyed the attention. And it turned out the coffee wasn't bad either so he figured he could come back every now and then.

The second time he stopped there for coffee, the place was a lot busier than the first time and the flirty guy had apparently called in reinforcements. There was a second guy behind the counter this time.

Tommy watched him for a minute. He was serving up an order for a woman and a little girl and winked at the kid and told her he'd put extra whipped cream on her drink.

"You spoil her." the woman commented with a laugh and the guy just shrugged and smiled as he watched them leave.

And oh. That smile. He was adorable.

Though knowing his luck, the woman was his wife and the kid his daughter.

"Hey, what can I get you?"

"Uhm I uh... a coffee... please?" Tommy stammered.

Smooth Kinard, smooth.

"I can do that. What kind of coffee? We kind of have a lot of different kinds."

"Uh yeah... I uh... what's your speciality?"

"We kind of just opened... so we don't really have that yet... But I'm told I'm really good at guessing people's orders. Can I try with you?" The guy asked, getting excited.

"Oh... uh yeah... yeah sure."

The guy looked him up and down.

"Ok. I know just what to make you. Any allergies I should know about?"

"No... I uh... don't think so."

"Alright. Give me a few minutes and I'll have your drink ready for you." He grabbed a marker and a to go cup. "What's your name?"

"Uh Tom... Tommy."

"TomTommy?" the guy gave him a grin.

"Uh... just... Tommy..." he corrected himself. He wasn't usually this much of a bumbling idiot around cute guys.

The guy nodded and wrote Tommy's name on the cup before turning around to make his drink.

Tommy watched him work. Watched the way his muscles moved under his slightly too tight shirt. imagined for a moment what he might look like without that shirt, before shaking his head and reminding himself of the woman and little girl that had been there when he'd walked in.

"Ok, here it is." The guy set his cup on the counter. "Be honest."

Tommy was curious and carefully removed the lid, a habit he'd picked up in the army, where some of the guys loved to play pranks on people by putting something in their drinks, and took a sip.

"And?"

Tommy tried his best to keep a straight face while making himself swallow the absolute worst concoction his poor taste buds had ever had the misfortune of coming across.

"It's uhm... different..."

The guy's face fell.

"You don't like it."

"It's uhm... not what I usually go for."

"Sorry... I don't actually guess people's orders... I just wanted to impress you." the guy admitted with a sigh. "Just tell me what you do like and I'll make you that. On the house. And you won't have to pay for this either."

"You... wanted to impress... me?"

"Hmm... it's not every day a Greek god walks into my shop." He said with a shrug. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

"I... I'm Italian actually. On my mother's side." Tommy's brain managed to come up with. He wanted to kick himself for being so awkward but the guy smiled at him so maybe it wasn't all bad.

"Well then I guess you're definitely used to better coffee than this."

"It's not that bad." Tommy lied but didn't make a move to take another sip.

"It's ok, you don't have to lie, I'm a big boy, I can handle it." the guy promised. "Just tell me what you do like and I'll make it. Latte? Americano? Ice coffee?"

Only before Tommy could reply, the little girl from before ran into the place and up to the counter.

"Uncle Buck! We lost mister snuggles!"

"Jee, inside voice please." the guy, uncle Buck apparently, told her after wincing and covering his ears in an overdramatic way.

"We lost mister snuggles." the girl repeated, at a more suitable for the environment volume.

"That's not good. Did you have it when you were in here with mommy?"

The girl nodded.

"I will look around and if I find him, I'll come bring him home to you myself tonight ok?"

Another nod.

"Where's mommy? You didn't run off without saying where you were going did you?"

As if on cue the door opened and the woman that had been with the girl earlier walked in.

"Mister snuggles disaster?" Buck asked her.

"Not anymore." she turned to the girl. "Auntie Hen just called to say you forgot him there, Jee. So let's go and get him and then go home. Daddy should be home from work by now. Say bye to uncle Buck."

The little girl reluctantly left with her mother and Tommy made a mental note of the use of the term uncle. Not his daughter then.

"Sorry about that. She's three and we haven't found her off button yet. Which is kind of my fault because that drink earlier was basically pure sugar. But normally that's her parents' problem." Buck joked. "Anyway, what can I get you that you will drink?"

Tommy smiled and felt his cheeks heat up as he put the cup on the counter.

"Just a latte is fine. I'm easy." He said and wanted to kick himself when he realised what he'd said. "I mean... for drinks. I'm easy to please for drinks. I uh... like simple things I guess. No fuss. Just... I'm going to stop talking now."

Buck laughed a little.

"One latte coming up." he said and made Tommy his drink. "Better?" he asked as he watched Tommy take a sip.

"Much. I mean the other stuff wasn't bad but... well..."

"it's fine." Buck waved his comment away. His coworker was busy helping other people but Buck didn't seem in any rush to move on to another customer.

And Tommy found that he really didn't want him to.

"So... Buck?" he asked after staring at the other man like an idiot for way too long.

"It's a nickname. Short for Buckley. My last name." he replied with a shrug.

Tommy nodded.

"And what's your first name?"

"It's uh... It's Evan."

"Evan Buckley." Tommy said, testing out the name. "Is it ok if I call you Evan? I think it suits you better than Buck."

Buck Evan smiled and ducked his head and Tommy swore he was blushing.

"Yeah... Yeah that would be ok."

That had been a few months ago, and the place had become Tommy's number 1 stop to get coffee. He'd wake up earlier than necessary so he'd have time to talk to Evan before he had to go to work, and on his days off he had to remind himself the cafe was Evan's place of work and he'd look like a stalker if he camped out at one of the tables the entire day.

They'd gone out on a couple of dates and after the last one they'd ended up in Tommy's bed together and he'd discovered making coffee wasn't the only skill Evan possessed.

He was pretty sure they were on the same page, but they hadn't officially defined them yet.

And maybe offering Carlos a tour of the city was the perfect excuse to go see Evan on his day off.

And then maybe invite him over for dinner. So he could ask him to be his boyfriend. As juvenile as it might sound, Tommy really wanted Evan to know he was serious about them, and didn't want either of them to date anyone else.

The place was a little too busy for Tommy's liking when he and Carlos walked in and he could see Evan do a double take when he noticed the two of them coming in together.

"Hey, Tommy right? What can I get you? The usual?" he asked and Tommy realised he was trying to stay professional for Carlos' sake.

He decided that wouldn't do and put on what he hoped to be his flirty voice and told Evan to surprise him. Judging by the grin on Evan's face it had the desired effect.

He briefly glanced at Carlos who was deciding what to order and talking to TK. Tommy figured he was in good hands and focused his attention on Evan.

"Busy day?" he asked, trying to start a conversation. "I've been telling everyone I know about this place. Even dragged my new neighbour over here by offering him a tour of the city. Looks like my work is starting to pay off."

Evan briefly glanced at Carlos before looking back to Tommy and smiling.

"And we appreciate it very much, I'll have to think of a good way to thank you." he leaned forward onto the counter. "How about coffee and something sweet?"

Tommy smiled and leaned closer too.

"I won't mind a little sweetness."

Evan laughed and pulled him to the side and briefly kissed him.

"I was hoping you'd do that." Tommy grinned. "I kind of like it when you do that."

"Good thing I like doing it too then." Evan replied. "You look nice today." he smoothed out non existing wrinkles in Tommy's shirt. "All this for a little sightseeing?"

"I'm just being friendly... are you jealous?"

"No... I just... would like to spend more time with my boyfriend when he's looking like this instead of him hanging out with another guy all day."

"Boyfriend?" Tommy asked, hopeful.

"I uh... yeah... I know we haven't really talked about... us... yet... but uhm... I'd like it... if you were my boyfriend."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah... It's ok if you're not there yet or want to keep things more casual or..."

Tommy put two fingers under Evan's chin, tilted his face up, and softly kissed him to shut him up.

"I'd really like to be your boyfriend. If you'll be mine."

Evan looked at him with a dopey smile on his face.

"I... I yeah... yes... yours... ok... yes." he stammered and Tommy couldn't help himself and kissed him again.

"God you're adorable."

Evan blushed and mumbled something under his breath Tommy didn't quite catch, but was pretty sure it was something along the lines of "shut up" and "I'm not."

He decided to ignore it for now. He'd have plenty of time to convince Evan if he had anything to say about it. He squeezed Evan's hand to get him to look at him again.

"So my friend is getting married soon... And I kind of need a date..."

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy fic #look at me finally finishing something

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honeycomb-fics · 2 years ago

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“H-Hey! Sai.. wait up. It’s crowded!” You shouted after your friend pushing through the crowd of people. Once you got close to Saitama you gripped the hem of his shirt, nervous the two of you might get separated again.

The two of you were making your way to one of your favorite cafes that served the most adorable themed meal sets for different holidays and events. Typically they booked out weeks in advance but you were able to snag a spot for Valentine’s Day. You bumped into your friend’s back when he stopped walking abruptly.

“You’re going to wrinkle my shirt,” Saitama looked down at your hand grabbing onto his shirt and grimaced, “I don’t need to hear Geno’s explain his entire steaming and ironing process to me again.”

He nonchalantly grabbed your hand and continued walking to the cafe. You felt your heart flutter at the sudden contact, you knew he was only doing so you didn’t get lost in the crowd, but it still made your heart skip a beat to have your hand in his. You looked up at him momentarily to see him scanning the masses of couples around the two of you in the shopping plaza.

“What the hell is going on? It’s a Tuesday.” Saitama complained, as he half dragged you along next to him. Seeming to forget in his irritation that his stride is a lot longer than yours, “They must be giving something away for free or something.”

You let out an awkward laugh at his response, you knew it was a big ask getting him to go to these events with you. But you always paid for the meals and more often than not it seemed like Saitama actually took some enjoyment in seeing the cutesy food. He gave you a confused look and then simply shrugged continuing to walk closer to the restaurant. Your skin prickled as you looked around at the heart balloons in the streets, vendors selling bouquets of flowers.. Did Saitama not realize? .. No, no he had to know.

Once the two of you were seated together for your reservation, your anxiety only grew. The atmosphere of the cafe was more romantic than usual, with hearts plastered on the windows, pink garland hanging for the ceiling. When the waitress came over, Saitama automatically told her that the two of you were just going to get whatever the special was since that’s why you were there anyway.

Saitama leaned back in his chair casually, “Ah, I’m so hungry. I hope this special is good.”

He impatiently flipped around the menu she had left ‘just in case’ before pausing slightly and looking around, “It’s Valentine’s Day today?”

Immediately your stomach dropped as you looked across the table at your bald-headed friend. Your fears had come to fruition. You really had intended this to be a date for the two of you but it was becoming increasingly clear that Saitama didn’t get the memo, “I mean I did tell you the 14th when we made the plans but we don’t have to make a big deal about it..”

The two of you became distracted by a group of snickering teenage girls two tables down from you, their barely hushed conversation, floating easily over to your table.

“Hey, doesn’t that guy kind of look like that Caped Baldy guy?” One girl loudly whispered pointing in Saitama’s direction. Your immediate response was to roll your eyes. It was still rare for people to recognize him, but often wasn’t taken very seriously.

Another giggle followed, “I bet he had to beg for that date.”

Not only was Saitama unaware that he was on a date, now he was being harassed by a group of kids on said date he did not agree to be on. Perfect, just how you wanted this to go, you put your head in your hands weighing the pros and cons of getting into a verbal argument with two teenagers.

Your server finally returned after what felt like an eternity with the special. On the small table between you and Saitama laid a plate with ‘Fluffy Fluffy Heart Pancakes’ piled high with whipped cream and berries and next to that was a parfait cup containing the ‘Layers of Love’.

“I—,” Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, feeling the need to backtrack and escape the pending rejection. “Sai, you know I love themed food events.. and I just..”

“Are you going to take your picture of it or what?” Saitama shot you an impatient look, pointing at the pancakes. You usually warned him to not dig in immediately because you wanted a quick picture for social media, “I’m hungry and this whipped cream is melting.”

Relieved to see Saitama was clearly unphased by the whole situation and still focused on getting on with the date, well not date, you grabbed your phone from your bag and snapped a few quick shots of the food. Not without remarking on how cute everything was.

He grabbed a fork and started eating the pancakes, “And I like going to them with you. The Christmas one was fun,” between mouthfuls of food, “I would have agreed to a date, you know?”

You pouted, grabbing a spoonful of sickenly sweet parfait, “I didn’t think you’d be dense enough to not realize this was a date!”

#saitama x reader #saitama x you #saitama opm x you #heart to heart event #gail writes #prompt used is bolded #he has Not A Clue

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360iris · 2 years ago

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Me & U, Isn’t | dad’s best friend!santiago ‘pope’ garcia x reader

2.5k word count. Content warning— this is not a good time read! Relationship angst, m/c is intended to be over 21 years of age, Santi isn’t a bad guy, but he isn’t the best either. M/c is kind of self deprecating tbh, message for the girlies: Always speak your mind, and let your feelings be known if you are in a safe place to do so! Fuck “keeping the peace.” Don’t be like this m/c! She is stubborn! Anyway, I wrote this almost two months ago. It was fun stressing my friends out talking about it. Now the world can read it and stress too ig lol

Please do not read if you are not in the right headspace for more serious relationship topics and themes, thanks!

The last thing you’d expected to see this afternoon was Santiago leaning against his truck, arms folded as he watched you pull into your reserved parking spot at your apartment complex. A fond smirk lining his lips.

You take your time gathering your things, face waxing unimpressed as you exited the vehicle. “How long have you been out here?” You ask with brows knitted as he pushes himself up.

“About... ten minutes?” He takes a moment to think it over. “Saw your phone location and noticed you were headed back this way. Figured I’d be able to catch you before you headed back out.”

“What the fuck?” You remark surprisingly, looking at him like he’d grown a third arm. “Since when have you been doing that?”

“You let me, remember? That one night you were all cock drunk, I asked you and you let me enable it.” He says nonchalantly and you stare at him fixedly for a moment before promptly turning to start walking to your door.

Santiago simply follows suit, his pace lax as he trails behind you, waiting patiently as you open the door, step inside and gesture for him to enter.

“What do you want, Santiago?” You ask, shutting the door. Technically your tone was mellow, but there was something about the sentence itself that made his smug expression fall.

“What are you doing that for?” He asks.

“Doing what?” You ask, eying him weirdly as you set down your keys and take off your jacket.

“You know what. What are you upset about?” He pries.

You straighten up, tipping your head back to look at him straight on.

The elephant in the room was right there, and yet here he was asking you, what you had to be upset about like he himself hadn’t chosen to go dark for an entire week and three and half days— not that you were counting.

Although you were.

Going about your days like the family and friends trip to Miami didn’t happen last May.

Like all the glances and tension that was brewing between you and Santiago that entire year didn’t lead up to him fucking you in a beach shower at 5pm, on a Tuesday, didn’t lead to you having to keep the biggest secret you’d ever endeavored to take on.

No one could know, he’d told you.

And you weren’t fucking stupid, of course they couldn’t.

But no one didn’t just mean your mom or dad, who’d lose their minds, and more than likely relieve Santiago of his if they found out how long you’d been “seeing” one another.

No one also pertained to your childhood, college and online friends. It entailed your lab partners in Advanced Inorganic Chemistry, the girl who always gave you extra whipped cream and caramel at the campus Starbucks since you were a sophomore— and even the family cat, Feek.

When you got into this, whatever this was, you’d thought you were gaining something.

Something fun and exciting, something that kept you up at night from how giddy you were. And if you were being honest, for a little while, you’d thought you were gaining him. Even if you knew you couldn’t really be together, you’d thought— well, you don’t even know anymore.

You’d just hoped he’d at least show up for you more. And instead, he pulled away.

Santiago put more time into Kim, the woman he’d been seeing on and off since you were ten. The one he took on showy trips to the Bahamas and brought to all the special occasions as his plus one when it’d be too weird to attend alone.

‘Just for the photos.’ he’d said. ‘If people see me with her, then they wouldn’t think even in their wildest dreams that I was with you.’ He’d continued.

Eventually you stopped bringing it up. That’s how a lot of things went with him it seemed. He’d settle on one answer and that’s what he’d stick to. Not once would he divert or slip up— things just were, no matter how unsatisfied you were with his replies.

Though, you weren’t granted that same privilege it seemed.

“Mi amor,” He says walking closer to where you stood by the breakfast bar. Amor. Love— Santiago never could say it in English. And it always felt like he’d made a point of it not to. “What are you upset about?”

You scoff, effectively rolling your eyes and slipping past him to walk down the hall to your room. “Oh, there’s a list of things. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to get to them all, even if I tried to, Santiago.” Your voice echoes in the barrer space, he follows.

And just as you reach to open the door handle, his hand rests on top of your own— keeping you locked there in the darkened space, his chest to your back. His chin ghosting over your left shoulder.

You try to even your breathing as he makes you soak in the silence before breaking it, “I know you.” He says evenly, out of all the things he could say. And his right hand that rests against your hip begins picking at the hem of your burgundy knit long sleeve.

“I know you keep a lot of this hidden. A lot of things go unsaid between us, and I thought we were both okay, with that. But if you’re not, how can I know if you don’t let me in on what it is you’re letting stew in that little head of yours.”

Your hand grasping the doorknob tightens against the metal as he speaks, your fingers beginning to shake under his.

You rest your forehead against the painted white wood, exhaling heavily through your nose as he keeps you pressed to him. And vaguely you acknowledge how ironic this moment in time is—

You, reaching the door of something, maybe it was the future. One without him and all his empty promises. One where you were free to see whoever and share them with whomever you pleased.

And him, stopping you. Holding on to you and this shitty situation like it isn’t absolute madness.

Didn’t he go day by day antagonizing over this too? Didn’t he share in the thought that this was pure torture?

‘Don’t you see what you’ve done to me?’ You think. ‘You’ve made me feel like everyone I could trust was an inside spy, waiting for one damn slip up to crucify me for.’

‘I’m protecting you, and I’m lonelier than ever.’

‘You’re holding me and I hate how you’re all I’ve got left that feels like home.’

You couldn’t say those things. And he didn’t want to know them, not really.

“Why won’t you let me go?” You ask, taking a shaky inhale.

Santiago doesn’t answer right away, undoubtedly getting your true meaning.

“Do you want me to?” He asks finally, quiet. Waiting.

“I,” Your voice cracks before everything becomes too much and you’re turning in his grasp to look at him.

Could the truth fix everything in this instance?

If you told him, ‘It’s about you not being honest? It’s about you sleeping with whoever you want but acting like a scorned child when I do the same? Ignoring my texts for weeks at a time, and showing up at my apartment at odd hours of the night whenever it suits you?’

But what was the point of wasting your breath when you knew it’d turn into a futile argument that changed nothing.

It’d end the same way regardless, with him dismantling all your lines of defense with a look, with a touch, and a kiss.

With him fucking you into your sheets with your nails clawing into his back, until your throat is hoarse and your vision is skewed with tears. That’s how he seemed to like you best anyway— responsive to his smallest whim and wholly compliant.

So as always, you don’t speak, you don’t push the limits. And he rewards you for it, whether or not he knows it. By bringing you into his arms, holding you close and skipping the fight altogether.

“My pretty girl. Smart girl.” He says running his fingers along your face now, looking into your eyes, and you take the opportunity to search his. If the eyes were the gateway to the soul, what would you find if you looked into his?

Right now. If you were being honest. You saw nothing. But did that say more about you, or him?

Maybe you lacked whatever it took to catch a glimpse of whatever a person’s true nature was but as he cups your face with one hand, you abandon the thought. It was better not to think.

“I’m here now, so just… be with me.” He says it so softly he’s almost whispering. Leaning in til your noses touch.

“Santiago.” Comes out raspy, your voice strained by nerves and excess emotion.

“Nuh-uh.” He interjects, softly tilting your head back til it makes contact with the closed door behind you. Nosing at the slope of your neck, he keeps his eyes on your face as he rubs his lips along your cold skin. “None of that. Say it properly.”

“I don’t know what you’re—“ And you’re interrupted by the way he pinches at your clit through the fabric of your jeans, quick to cradle the back of your head to prevent you from hurting yourself when you throw it back.

“Still don’t know, do you?” He asks eyeing you with a glint forming in his eye as you shook your head. “No?”

He begins undoing your pants with one hand, pulling your underwear and bottoms down just enough so that they sit just above your thighs, before placing your cunt on full display for him. “What’s it going to take to get that little attitude of yours in check? Hm?”

His thumb rubs over your clit once, slow and purposeful as you keen in his grasp. “What am I going to have to do? Fuck it out of you?”

At those words, he begins rubbing the pad of his middle finger in your arousal. Pressing slowly into you fully before pulling back and when he pushes forward again, this time it’s with two fingers that have you quietly gasping at the intrusion.

Your cunt wets his fingers all to quickly, you’re leaning into his touch as he fucks you open, one overwhelmingly patient pump at a time.

With a beckoning motion, he massages your spongy walls until he locates the spot that causes you to buck into his hand. “That’s it.” He purrs, praising you like you were some wild thing he was working to tame.

Your cunt squeezes around him as he introduces a third digit, encouraging you to fuck his fingers with an eager tone. Slick rolling down his wrist in reflective streaks. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Give it to me, mi amor. You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

You nodded foggily as he upped his pace, your hands shooting forward to grasp futilely at his immovable wrist, his hand becoming a blur as he propelled you closer and closer towards an edge you couldn’t see but could feel fast approaching from all angles. Your moans rise in pitch, voice cracking as he works at an unyielding speed.

“Say my name, baby. All you have to do is say it and I’ll let you cum on my fingers nice, long and hard.” He murmurs, brows raised expectantly. “Come on, baby. Come on.”

“F-fuck, Santiago!” Comes out jumbled and whiny, your face buried into the side of his neck when suddenly his hand comes to an immediate standstill.

He laughs humorlessly, pulling out of you completely. A cry is promptly ripped from your lips when he lands a clean, wet slap square against your clit. The swollen bud pulsating as he ignores your whines.

Grasping your face in his palm, he smears your arousal along your cheeks as he forces you to look at him through hooded eyes bordered with tears. He searches your gaze for a moment, unbelieving amusement vaguely lining his features as he looks over you.

“Hmm.” He takes a moment to hum and haw, as if what he finds is in line with whatever he had thought. “Fucking it is.”

Making quick work of yanking your pants down your legs, he haphazardly tosses the material on the floor. His belt clinks as he unbuckles it, unzipping his jeans with one confident pull of his wrist.

He doesn’t bother removing his own bottoms completely, instead holding your unsteady gaze as you watch him pull his cock through the opening he’d made for himself. Grabbing a hold of your left thigh, he hooks your leg over his hip.

Fitting you against him, he rubs the tip of his cock against your clit, spreading his precum across your folds.

“You can be difficult with me, baby. I have all the time in the world for you.” He says in a tone so sweet, your brows furrow and lips press into a fine lined pout. His eyes soften at the way your expression crumples.

“Pobrecita,” He coos, peppering kisses across your face, against your cheeks, and nose, and eyelids— wherever he felt so inclined. You balled your hands into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as he began pushing inside of you.

You release a faint sob, his cock filling you to the hilt when tears begin streaming down your cheeks in angry droplets.

“What is it, bebita? Talk to me. I can’t help if you don’t let me in.” He mumbles into your skin, pulling his head up to rest his forehead against yours. His hips rocking slowly as ugly emotions rolled through your chest.

“Why—“ You suck in a big breath of air in between hiccups. “Why don’t you ever tell me you love me?”

His eyes are deep, chocolatey and steady when he speaks. “I tell you. I tell you all the time.” He says, bringing a hand up to card his fingers through your hair.

“In Spanish!” You argue unhappily, eyelashes matted together with tears, cheeks watermarked. “You tell me in Spanish, Santiago.”

“You think I don’t mean it?” He asks evenly.

“You don’t say it.” You insist.

Releasing a sigh, he leans closer, his lips ghosting against yours. “Te amo.” He whispers, low, just for you to hear. It was a sentiment only for your ears as he thrusts in and out of you in slow, meaningful drags.

“Te amo.” He says again, kissing you softly, the words being almost spoken into your mouth.

“Te amo.” Santiago repeats with another kiss before pulling back to look into your eyes, sparing one hand to cup your chin. “I love you.”

Your bottom lip trembles, from finally hearing the words, from how gently he looks at you. “I love you, Santi. I love you.”

A smile breaks onto his face as he leans in to capture your mouth again. Only parting after he’d thoroughly taken your breath away, leaving your chest heaving in his departure. “I know, babygirl.”

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