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brilium · 1 year ago

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❥ K I N K T O B E R 2 0 2 3

Masterlist

➽──────────❥

❥ DAY 9. Aphrodisiac! with Nanami Kento

Summary. Nanami has been dealing with a lot of stress at the office lately, and you decided to buy him a naturalist tea that it supposed to help with the stress relief. It seems to help with stress in a very particular way...

Content Warning. Fem! reader, no use of Y/N, all characters are adults, smut, vaginal sex, overstimulation, oral sex (m. receiving), breeding. No proof read, might edit later.

Word count. 2,203.

MINORS OR AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT !!

You bought a package of natural tea bags for stress relief. Was it suspicious? Not really. You expected them to work? Also no.

Actually, it seemed pretty normal; a simple box with small bags filled with the usual content.

You gave them to Kento when he drank in the morning before going to work. He seemed like usual; tired, with no energy and half asleep.

That was pretty much the reason why you bought them.

The tea was supposed to help him relieve stress relief, that’s why you give it to him before his stressful routine. You didn’t expect to be one of those teas.

“Fuck! S–Stay still dear!” Nanami groans, holding the headboard of the bed with one hand while the other keeps your waist firmly against the mattress as his hips slam aggressively against yours.

You look at your clothes spreader around the floor, you can't even remember when Nanami got you rid of them in the rush of kisses and make out that he put you through.

The lady at the shop gently helped you to look for a tea that would help with the stress that your husband has been having, since you’re a bit worried about his lack of words and how he skips dinner and goes to sleep. You should have suspected of her smile.

It was a damn aphrodisiac.

You cry in the pillow while he keeps thrusting with an animal fiercely, holding the sheets between your fists as his hip bone spanks against your red ass. Nanami groans fill the bedroom with the skin slapping sounds that drive you crazy.

"God— You feel so good today. I couldn't stop thinking at work about you, dear!"

And, that's fucking true, Nanami felt a weird wave of arousal as soon as he landed on his desk. Suddenly remembering how tight that shirt suited you today, he remembered how your nipples poked out softly through the fabric; and that leaded him to remember your bare body, your thighs squeezing at his sides every time he pounded on you and your sweet blush when you announced that you were about to cum—

God, he lied saying that he was sick because he needed to fuck you. It felt like ages since the last time.

When he arrived sooner, you were happy that, maybe, his boss gave him a free day. But as soon as he started kissing you as rubbing his hard erection against your stomach you knew that you’ll be the tired one today.

“P–Please! K–Kento—” You rest your cheek on the pillow to get some air, even if it’s hard to do it with his weight above yours, thrusting hard. “S–Slow down! Fuck!”

Nanami doesn’t seem to listen, actually, he does the opposite, getting a quicker peace that wins a loud scream from you. Your eyes half opened don’t let you focus clearly, although your complaints since you’re used to doing it more gently with him, you love how his tip hits constantly on your cervix like he wants to leave his mark inside you.

When you start whining against the pillow, drooling on it and starting to dig hardly your nails on your palm, you let out a small whimper of pain that startles your husband.

“D–Do you— Shit! Do you want me to stop?”

The thrusts slow down gently until stopping with some shaking from him, he doesn’t sounds like he wants to stop, even his voice shakes in need of more but his delicacy with you stays even though the way he acts right now melts a warm feeling on your chest.

You shake your head with weakness, tightening your core muscles to keep him inside. Nanami lets out a broken moan when you do it, grabbing both sides of your hips firmly and taking a deep breath.

He caresses your back from top to bottom, trying to control his need to keep slamming on you.

“This is because of that damn tea…” He scolds, going inside again more slowly even it’s a higher pain for his body needing to let out all that contained energy. "I can't even feel tiredness."

“I notice it,” You whimper, tasting how sweetly it feels his length entering again, you push your hips back a little for more and Nanami responds by unintentionally digging his nails on your skin. “Fuck— D–Don’t hold back, please...”

Nanami growls in response, he tries his best to go slow for you but even though he slowed down his thrusts, he makes sure to hit every time with enough energy to make your insides clench around his swollen dick.

You start to love this new side of him, letting out his desires to ruin you and take everything he wants. He's a gentleman, and that's perfect, but remembering that that gentleman is turning you into a mess growls a pool on your aching cunt.

When Nanami’s thrusts start to get faster and harder, you start to taste a sweet electric wave around your body as you keep hearing the headboard slamming on the wall.

“K–Kento! I’m… I’m close!” You scream, moaning his name against the sheets and grabbing them between your fists.

Nanami nods behind you, keeping his peace as he starts to feel how the knot on his stomach is about to release. He pulls you closer to him in a harsh movement and starts hitting harder, when you start crying in pleasure is when you feel a whole shiver growing along your body in the high of your orgasm. He keeps moving his hips in a messier way until he moans sharply as you feel a warmth filling your cunt.

You are breathless on the mattress as you feel the cum running down your thighs, thinking that your husband is in the same state but it takes you by surprise when he grabs you by the shoulder to make you lie on your back to look at him towering you in the bed.

He just came, a lot.

And he’s still fucking hard.

“B–But you just came!” You whine, feeling him rubbing his length along your sensitive folds. Making you roll your eyes at the sensation and having to bite your lip to not moan in response. "Kento—"

“P–Please… Fuck, you feel so warm” Nanami moans quietly between his teeths, putting his tip right on your entrance and you feel a cold chill running through your spine. “If you are still tight maybe I’ll cum sooner and the effect of the tea goes away.”

You know that he's inventing all that, you both don't know how long that effect is going to last but you’re not complaining when his tip opens your walls again.

Nanami starts to push and you throw your head back on the pillow with a pained moan, you are still really wet from the previous orgasm, but also damn sensitive. He hasn't even fully entered but yet it already has you breathing hard and biting your lip.

He grabs your thighs to spread them and has a good entrance to you when he starts stroking again, but it doesn't seem to be enough for him. Nanami does the opposite by lifting your calves to put them on his shoulders as he starts to hit again.

This new position lifts your hips a little more and gives him a good angle to hit on your cunt and turn you into a mess of moans, feeling him hitting on the cervix in such a delicious way.

His eyes travel down along your body from your parted lips crying his name; your tits being squeezed between one of your hands, trying to keep them both stimulated; and fuck, the nice view of your cunt squeezing on his fat cock around the white ring of cum around it.

You squirm on the mattress, feeling like a rag doll in the hold of his strong body.

"F–Fuck! Fuck!" You bring one of your hands between your legs to rub your swollen clit to get closer to the second orgasm. Nanami groans at the feeling of your folds hugging him tightly.

Nanami lets go of your thighs on your sides to bend closer to you, but his hips keep slamming on you like he's just started while you already started to feel your body getting sore.

You thought that he leaned closer to kiss you through the thrusts, but he stopped right in front of your breasts to start sucking on your nipples and let them go with a "Pop!". When his hard thrusts make it hard for him to reach the nipple, he just chooses to suck on the soft skin of your breasts, leaving a dark red mark on there.

His tongue drills on the tip of your sensitive bud, biting it softly between his teeths to make your back arch for more. It's when in one of those movements that your vision goes blurry as your hands fly to his back and start to scratch it with your nails.

"K–Kento! Yes, yes!" You roll your eyes, feeling his dick strokes on the right spot between your walls "Right there! Yes!"

Nanami hugs you back to keep you steady as he keeps hitting, feeling your cunt tightening around him. You cry his name repeatedly against his shoulder as he thrusts while you ride the second orgasm.

You spasm under him, trembling and feeling small tears on the border of your eyes as he calms down above you. Even your walls clench around his length at the sound of his hard breathing beside your ear.

"D–Dear… I—"

You interrupt Nanami, pushing him softly to lie on his back beside you. He opens his eyes wide when you use the last remains of your strength to straddle I'm front of his swollen dick, holding the base of it with one hand as you get closer to it.

"Gosh! You gave me two sweet orgasms and you haven't even cum once…" A pout grows in your face, holding his cock to hit it softly on your cheek, loving the way Nanami’s body jumps slightly at the touch.

"Am I that bad in bed?" You continue, passing slowly your tongue flatly from his base to his tip to taste his precum combined with the last of your fluids. "Is that so, Kento? You want me to stop?"

Nanami shakes his head, bringing a hand to your cheek, caressing sweetly as he bites his lip to not scream at the way you tease him with soft licks along his member.

"No… Don’t stop."

You smirk, licking his tip in circles with your tongue before sliding it between your lips and pull back. You enjoy his cries and pleas until you finally decide to take the most that you can, swallowing with your cheeks as he throws his head back with a growl.

It's been a while since you gave him a blow job, so you forgot how fat his cock felt inside your mouth, struggling to take it all as you jerk the rest with your hand as you lick his tip in circles before taking it all again.

But he squirms so nicely on the bed…

You laugh against his dick, sending vibrations that make him cry softly, you keep going slowly until his hands push you down to take more. You gag around him and he growls pleased, thrusting up to hit the back of your throat, making you cry softly as the sound of his guttural moans fill your ears.

"Yes, yes! You take me so well, dear!" It doesn't take longer until Nanami pulls your head back by tangling his fingers on your hair, leaving a thin thread of drool from his tip to your lip.

You look at Nanami trying to get up on his knees in front of you with your flushed cheeks and fucked out gaze. He pumps along his swollen dick in front of you a few strokes until he throws the thick lines of cum around all your face, falling down along your cheeks, mouth and some drips on your tits.

Nanami groans relieved and fall on his knees in the mattress, looking at you cleaning the rest with your thumb to suck it.

"Don’t do that, let me clean you."

"Why? Is it gross for you?" You ask, genuinely. Stopping to look around for the tissues, but Nanami’s head weight on your lap, his broken breathing hits on your thighs, giving you tickles.

"No… I'll get hard again if I see you doing it. I still feel some dizziness from that stupid tea."

You giggle, playing with his hair with one hand as you clean the last remains with the back of your hand, waiting for cleaning it properly later.

"Don’t call it stupid! You seem less stressed, actually."

Nanami groans annoyed, slapping softly on your bare thigh.

"Maybe, but I'm stressed on what medical excuse I'll have to create for my work."

"Just tell them that something in the morning hurt your tummy."

Nanami hums in response, about to fall asleep on your thighs and you smirk before leaning closer to his ear.

"Since you’re not going back to work… Do you want another tea?"

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #brilium #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu nanami #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut

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gloomweed · 10 days ago

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Aggressive Compliments

(Eddie Munson x Insecure!Reader)

Summary: After you confess to Eddie that you don't like the way you look, he is quick to assure you of how beautiful you are.

wc: ~2k

This was it. You were down to your last quarter and you’ve spent too much to give up now. The silver coin rolls into the slot and the light flashes on the ‘go’ button. With one last focusing exhale, you hit the green button and narrow your eyes at the purple bat plushie. The beeps and music fade out as you gain your center. You move the joystick with precision, finally getting the hang of its movements, until it hangs directly above your target. Eyes flicking downward, you see the red timer counting down from the 15 seconds you have left. You move around the transparent box the best you can to see the other angles, ensuring you were in the right position.

Seeing no mistakes, you glance over your shoulder to Eddie who is covering his mouth with his hands, per your request. He breaks focus from the claw machine to nod his approval silently. With a smirk, you hit the drop button with only 3 seconds to spare. You and Eddie press your faces against the glass, praying that this is the one. The claw falls, at an agonizingly slow rate, until it is resting perfectly on the center of the bat’s head. Then it clamps down, caging the plush toy carefully. You both held your breath with anticipation. This was the pivotal moment. Would it make it off the ground?

The claw lifts the bat upwards oh so very slowly and much too shakily. As the claw carries the toy closer and closer to the exit your excitement builds exponentially. Until, finally above the box, the claw releases and the bat falls into the exit unceremoniously. You both shout with joy, laughing hysterically at the fact that your obsessive repetition finally paid off. “You did it! You finally did it!” Eddie shouted excitedly. You grab the toy and hold it above your head victoriously. The other arcade patrons look your way disapprovingly, disturbed by your volume. Neither of you cared, too invested in finally winning at the claw game.

Eddie is so excited he scoops you up in a hug and lifts you off your feet momentarily. You’re almost too happy to realize or care, until you feel his arms on your back and your stomach against his chest. Immediately you clam up, your smile faltering as you are once again reminded of your imperfect body. You do your best not to make a big deal out of it, but Eddie already notices your drop in energy and stops to put you down.

His face is still plastered with a wide smile, but his brow pinches together, worried he did something wrong. “You okay? Did I squeeze you too hard?”

You fake a smile and shake your head. “No, I'm fine. Just a little dizzy is all,” you lied. Before Eddie could press further, you change the subject. “Anyways,” you hold the toy out to him. “Here is your prize, Eddie.”

Confused brown eyes hold your stare as he takes the toy from your hands with a lopsided grin. His attention is then on the soft toy as he holds it close to his chest in a protective hug, humming in content. When Eddie holds it out again for a moment to admire it, he shakes his head before handing it back to you. “You should have it. I mean, you did all the work to get it, not to mention the quarters you put into it.”

You tilt your head, confused, as you take the plush from his hands. “But you spent all your quarters trying to win it.”

He chuckles, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Honestly, I only wanted to win it for you.” Eddie shrugs. “Wanted to give you a souvenir. Something to remember this awesome date we had.” His head snaps up in realization. “This was a good date, right? Or was I the only one feeling that?”

Smiling, you cup his face and press a quick kiss to his cheek. When you pull away, you see him flush red. “It was a great date. I loved it. But you didn’t have to win me a souvenir.”

Eddie gestures to the purple bat in your hands. “Yeah, clearly you win them yourself.”

You roll your eyes with a grin. “I meant, to remember this date. I’m not forgetting this anytime soon.”

“Alright well,” Eddie takes a step closer, playfully flapping the wings of the bat in your arms, “either way, I’m sure Ozzy will much rather live at your house than mine, and if seeing him happens to remind you of me, that’s just a bonus.” His grin looks mischievous with the way his head tilts to his shoulder.

You look at the plush toy in your hands. “‘Ozzy,’ huh? That’s a cute name.”

“As in the guy who bit off the head of a bat on stage.”

“Right,” you smile. Eddie had told you that story many times. “Well, seeing as we are both out of quarters, I suppose that means this arcade date is officially over. Care to walk me and Ozzy here home?”

Eddie flourishes his arm out with a little bow, encouraging you to lead the way. “Why, it would be my pleasure.” He follows closely beside you, arm at the small of your back as you make your way through the crowd of people. Despite the enticing warmth of his hand, your insecurities can't stand the idea of being forgotten. You curl away from his touch just to silence the destructive thoughts.

Once you make it outside, you both squint at the sudden brightness. Even though the sun was setting, it was still much brighter than the darkness of the arcade you had grown accustomed to over the course of the afternoon. After blinking away the discomfort, you two begin to make your way down the sidewalk towards your house. The walk is mostly quiet, but it’s a comfortable silence. Eddie is the first to break it. His hands are in his jacket pocket and he seems more willing to look towards the sidewalk than at you. “I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean to make you upset or anything.” His soft tone of voice perks your ears.

The apology completely catches you off guard. “Huh? What do you mean? I'm not upset.”

His dark eyes find yours and he shrugs. “You just seemed…weird after I hugged you. Which, I get it. I should have asked before lifting you up like that. I was just so happy for you, you know? Guess I got caught up in all the excitement.”

You frown, feeling guilty that you got Eddie all in his head about it. “No, no. It had nothing to do with you. I just-” You huff, struggling to find the words. Worried that being honest with him would ruin the nice vibe you had going. Seeing as Eddie noticed your odd behavior already, it’s safe to say that ship has sailed. You think that if it were the other way around, you would want Eddie to be completely honest with you. Gathering your courage with a deep breath, you do your best to put your feelings into words. “Sometimes when I’m reminded of the way my body looks or feels, I get all…stupid. I'm scared you’ll notice all the bad parts of me. The ugly parts. Then you’ll realize you want nothing to do with me.”

There is a silent pause as Eddie mulls over your words. His shoes scuff on the sidewalk as he suddenly stops walking. The noise of it puts you on edge. As you stop a second after him, your mind starts racing through what you said looking for the thing that might have upset him. “Okay, first of all, you’re not stupid.” His tone is firm, but it isn’t angry. It brings you a sliver of relief as you turn to face him.

How he spoke made it sound less like a compliment and more like an obvious unrefuted fact. Like you were an idiot for calling yourself stupid, which is very confusing. “Thank you?” is your meek reply.

Eddie’s eyes are wide and unblinking. “Second, in what world, in what reality, are you within even an atom’s width of ‘bad’ or ‘ugly’?” He pinches his fingers in front of his eyes trying to emphasize how small an interval he’s talking about.

Your face was warm with the weird worded compliment. The logical part of your brain wanted to point out examples to him. Maybe you wanted to prove the cynical part of yourself right; that you are bad and ugly. Maybe you just wanted to hear him refute them, boost your ego all the more. “Well, what about when you lifted me up? Didn’t you feel how heavy I am? How my stomach pressed against you?” Talking about it only makes you want to make yourself smaller, so you hug the stuffie against yourself as a kind of shield.

Running his hands through his hair, Eddie looked like he was close to ripping it out. “Are you fucking kidding me?! When I held you against me and I could feel all your sexy little dips and curves? Looking at the most beautiful fucking smile in the goddamn world? I loved every second of it!” His arms drop heavily from his head, hands slapping against his jeans. Suddenly his gaze is softer as he realizes his yelling is putting you off. Eddie gently takes one of your hands in his, ducking his head hoping to catch your eyes. “I would hold you every day if you’d let me.” When you finally look him in the eyes, they crinkle at the corners as he smiles lovingly at you. “Just because you aren’t the magazine cover conventionally attractive type, doesn’t make you any less attractive. I mean, look at me,” he steps back and waves a hand presenting himself to you. “Does any of this scream conventional to you?”

Your eyes scan Eddie up and down, catching on his long frizzy hair, jean vest atop his leather jacket covered in patches and buttons, his wallet chain connected to his black ripped jeans. In relation to your small town of Hawkins, Indiana, Eddie was far from average. “I guess not.” Your voice was small as you were beginning to realize his point.

“Aaand…? Do you think I’m pretty?” He uses his extra whiney voice as he holds both his hands beneath his chin in a silly pose, fluttering his eyelashes exaggeratedly.

It’s enough to make you laugh and you can see Eddie’s smile brighten at the sound of it. “Of course I do!”

He holds you by the elbows excitedly. “Exactly! I feel the same way about you!” The passion in his voice makes you blush. “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on.” Eddie’s voice is softer now, given the close proximity that you don’t seem to mind as much as you did 5 minutes ago. “You are not bad or ugly or stupid. And I’ll tell you everyday if I have to. Hell, I’ll have it tattooed onto my forehead if that’s what it takes.” The corners of his lips quirk up when he sees you smile.

Suddenly you feel a little embarrassed that you ever doubted Eddie’s affections for you. You can’t help but stare into his deep chocolate eyes, feeling so genuinely loved. When you reach up to caress his face, your thumb grows warm from the blush blooming across the apples of his cheeks. Your eyes slip closed as you kiss him. His hand lands on your waist to hold you closer, and this time you don’t shy away. As you break apart and stare up at him through your lashes, your voice rings out softly. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“Anytime, Sweetheart.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fic #fluff #eddie munson oneshot #feeling insecure #x reader #gloomweed writes

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gloomwitchwrites · 1 month ago

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Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Female Reader - Coworker AU

Content & Warnings: Coworker AU, Halloween Store AU, friends with benefits, oral sex (male & female receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, friends to eventual lovers, free use, overstimulation

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: For Kinktober 2024 (Free Use)

While working at a Halloween store, you make an agreement with your coworker, Kyle Garrick: free use of your body for covering shifts.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinktober 2024 masterlist

"Another shift? I'm starting to think you're only working here for my cock."

"Kyle Garrick," you hiss, smacking his arm.

Laughing, Kyle grabs your wrist, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “The deal still stands.

"I'm fully aware of the deal," you mutter with a smile, removing your hand from his grasp.

"Any place. Any time."

"I know."

Kyle grins and aggressively clicks the end of his pen until you roll your eyes. "Just do it you big idiot," you mutter.

Putting pen to paper, Kyle scratches out your scheduled time and moves the shift elsewhere.

This time, he clicks the end of the pen once. "Behind the changing rooms."

"Now?"

Kyle tilts his head to the side, a sly smirk on his face. Of course, now. He doesn't mean later. He never means later.

Within five minutes, you're leaning over a stack of delivery boxes with Kyle deep inside you.

All around you is the overflow of popular items. Couples have been coming in exclusively to purchase Scream masks, and it seems that every child that walks in with their parents wants to be a superhero. You're surrounded by masks, fake weapons, and numerous packaged costumes for every age.

You bite down on your bottom lip to stifle every rush of air that threatens to escape your lungs. Kyle's muted grunts are slowly turning into groans.

"Fucking hell, love,” he mutters, his thrusts quicken pace. The boxes beneath you shake and shift. They'll topple over, taking you with them if he isn't careful. Kyle exhales, his hips grinding against yours, holding there as his cum floods your pussy.

This is the agreement. The arrangement.

When you need a shift moved or covered, Kyle will happily do it. But he has free use of your body whenever he wants and at any time.

Kyle gently thrusts, pushing his cum deeper into you.

"We need to go back," you groan, attempting to catch your breath. "There's probably an insane line at the register."

Kyle chuckles. "There wasn't a soul in the store when we came back here."

You glance over your shoulder and scowl. "How long have we been gone?"

With a brief squeeze of your ass, Kyle eases his softening cock from your body. His cum follows him.

As you stand to adjust your clothes, Kyle's arms embrace you.

He kisses the top of your head. "Don't worry your pretty little head over it."

You groan and shove at him. "You're insufferable."

"But you like me," he teases as the two of you exit the small storage space, grabbing a box on the way out.

"On your knees."

You turn and almost scream.

Kyle is standing right behind you wearing one of those goddamn Scream masks. It's one of the red ones with horns.

"What are you doing? You scared me."

You're standing behind the counter at the very back of the store. The only customers are near the front, browsing and oblivious to your work in the back. Most don't even realize they can make a purchase back there.

"On your knees."

You blink. "The cameras, Kyle."

"They're off."

You cross your arms over your chest. "How did you—"

"I have my ways." He nods toward the floor. "On your knees."

You promptly fall. The counter is high enough to obscure at a distance but not if someone walks directly up to it. But you made an agreement with Kyle. If he tells you to get on your knees, you do it.

You present your mouth, and Kyle reaches for the front of his jeans. He opens them up, and then you take him into your mouth. With his hand on the back of your head, you suck and tease, swirling your tongue around the head before taking him all the way to the base.

Kyle starts to groan, and then clears his throat, head on a swivel as he watches the store. You keep at it, finding your own pleasure in the task of pleasing him. The mask certainly doesn't harm. You understand why it's so popular now.

One moment you're throating him, and the next you're pressed against the counter, Kyle quickly adjusting to lean forward, blocking any view of you. He pushes the mask up to reveal his face, grinning widely at whoever is standing there.

"How can I help you?" he asks, voice charming and smooth with zero indication that his cock is down your throat.

Inwardly grinning, you continue to suck him off. This is what he wanted after all. Why not give it to him?

"I'm looking for this," comes a woman's voice.

Kyle leans forward a bit like he's peering at a phone. "Those are in stock. Just over there."

"Over where?"

You take him down to the hilt and his hips jerk in response. "Front of the store. Left-hand side. Second row." He chokes on the last two words, barely getting them out.

You hear footsteps moving away, and then Kyle is glancing down at you, shaking his head softly.

"Swallow," he whispers. "Do it."

As he says it, his release hits your tongue. Relaxing your throat, you allow the cum to slide down as much as possible before you swallow the rest. When every drop is down your throat, he pops his cock from your mouth.

His pants are buttoned and back into place in seconds. You start to get up but his hand lands on your head, pushing you back down.

"Ready to check out?"

"Yes."

"I'll meet you up front."

You watch him go from your spot on the floor. You wait a full minute before checking to make sure it's clear.

"I—I can't. Kyle. Please."

The customers are gone. The registers have been counted. The front doors are locked and all the lights are off. Except one. The one on the desk in the back office.

That lamp is on, casting a soft glow over your naked body. Kyle kneels between your spread legs. All you can see are his eyes. His mouth is busy with other things.

A swipe of his tongue and you're gone. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you moan loudly, fingers clinging to the edge of the desk. You're supposed to be in your car, driving home. Instead, Kyle is giving you your third orgasm.

"One more," he murmurs against your sex. "One more."

You can't do one more. You really can't.

There are a few second reprieve before Kyle returns to his work. Every limb is shaking, overstimulation thudding through you so hard it's bordering on pain. You finish quick and loud, screaming out into the tiny room.

Kyle is standing and sliding into you within a few brief moments. The old desk creaks under the sharp thrusting. Kyle has one hand on your inner thigh, keeping you wide while the other rests firmly next to your shoulder. He leans over you, panting just as hard as you are.

Kyle's eyes are heavy-lidded with lust. "Feel so good," he groans.

Pushing up onto one elbow, you reach out for him, hand grasping the back of his neck. Kyle grins as you tug, closing the distance. His lips meet yours and it is perfect bliss.

"Finish inside me,” you sigh. “I want to feel you."

Your little admission does something to him. Kyle's groan softens to a sound you've never heard from him before. He kisses you again, and there is deep possession in it.

The two of you might have an agreement. It's the same agreement you’ve had with him last year and the year before. In between the stores closure and opening, there are flirty texts and occasional fucks but nothing serious. Nothing that feels like...whatever the fuck this is.

With a loud groan, Kyle grinds his hips forward, sealing your bodies together. His lips part, and you dip your tongue inside to taste him. Together, your connected bodies feel as one. There is no beginning or end here. There is only simple knowledge of pleasure.

Kyle returns your kisses. Each softer than the last. His arms circle to your waist and then lift, bringing you to an upright position. Dragging you to the edge of the desk, Kyle keeps himself firmly inside you, as if unwilling to part just yet.

He goes in for another kiss. This one on your lips. The next, your cheek.

"Need another shift covered?" he asks.

His heat is nice. Comforting. "Not at the moment."

"Pity," he croons, seeking yet another.

This time it deepens, becoming hot and heavy all over again.

"We don't have to do this, Kyle."

He presses his lips to your exposed shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"We could just...do this. We don't have to do all the other stuff."

"All the other stuff?" he grins.

You punch his shoulder and his smile only widens. "You interested in that, love? In me?" There is a hint of hope in his voice.

"What if I am?" you counter, matching his smile.

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writtenbymoonflower · 10 months ago

Note

Hey! I love your writing! I swear I feel like I’ve read Avery thing because it is so good🫶 I absolutely love the way you write the boys and their personalities, truly my favourite!

I was also wondering if I could request a fic? Feel free to ignore. But can I request a poly! Marauders comfort fic kind of based on my day rn😭today I had to get glasses after sooo many years of not needing them. And I bough a pair but hate the way I look in them. Came straight home and cried about it, which turned to not feeling good enough in general.

Hi sweetheart! thank you for requesting! i'm so sorry that happened, i hate my glasses too. i hope you are feeling better, you're absolutely gorgeous and glasses can't change that. gn!reader x poly!marauders

cw: insecurity, swearing

1k words

You were staring into the mirror, switching between taking your new glasses off and putting them back on. When you took them off, your head began throbbing and your vision blurred. When they were back on you winced painfully at your appearance in the mirror. A mix of insecurity over the way the frames looked, and the new clarity you had in seeing your face. It was like putting the glasses on had opened a Pandora’s Box of insecurity. Now, no matter if they were on or off, you couldn’t stop picking apart your face.

You set the glasses on the counter, scrubbing your watery eyes with the heel of your hand and wishing you never had to see yourself again. Remus found you in the bathroom, face pinched painfully and sniffling as you covered your eyes.

“Dovey,” He said, fear creeping into his tone. “What’s happened, huh?” He shuffled over to your side, spinning you around to face him. His large hands were braced on your shaking shoulders as you hid your face in your hands and whined in a way that made his heart clench. He went to pull your wrists away from your face, which was when you spoke up.

“No, no.” You held fast, keeping your hands firmly in place.

“Are you hurt? Why won’t you let me see you?” This whole situation was clearly making your usually calm boyfriend's head spin. He was at a loss, not wanting to become aggressive and scare you more, but also needing to get to the bottom of whatever was happening. He settled on tucking you into his chest and cradling the back of your head as you cried. You sniffled sadly into his knit sweater as two sets of feet padded across the carpet, stopping in the doorway of the bathroom.

“Fuck,” Sirius said. Remus would’ve scolded him, if it hadn’t required him to pull away from you. “What’s going on?” He placed a hand in the middle of your back, eyes roving over you for a source of pain. James was equally distraught, but he handled this kind of thing best. He had a way of pulling guarded information out of people.

“Baby, what’s got you crying so hard?” You lifted your face from Remus’ chest, still looking down to shield yourself. Remus tried to tilt your chin up, but you were being unusually stubborn.

“Let me look at you.” Remus said, knocking his knuckles under your chin. You just shook your head. James turned you so all three of the boys were in front of you and tried to make you look up again, but you held fast and James was too scared of hurting you.

“Why won’t you let us see you, sweetheart?” James probed. Something in his gentle tone just broke you further, making you want to spill your guts. You relaxed enough for James to make you look up, red-rimmed eyes and glossy features making him want to cry as well.

“Baby,” Sirius gasped. You breathed as deep as you could, trying not to cry worse as Remus used his sleeve to wipe at your wet cheeks. You were doing okay, until a wave of pain ripped through your head, making you grab your temples and whine. James cooed, familiar with the feeling and reached for your glasses.

“No, I don’t want them.” You choked, miserably.

“You’ve gotta wear them, lovely. Or your headache is jus’ gonna get worse.” He smoothed your hair away from your face, but you still wouldn’t let him put them on you.

“Why don’t you wanna wear your glasses, baby?” Sirius questioned.

“I hate them, they make me look so ugly. Like a fly or something.” You cringed wetly. Remus inhaled sharply, grabbing you to hold you again.

“Is that what's made you so sad?” He whispered, kissing the top of your head as you nodded against his chest. James pouted, wanting to cry.

“Wait,” Sirius cut in, sounding incredulous. “Is that why you wouldn’t let us look at you too?” James looked shell shocked and Remus’ face was pinched. You nodded again.

“Sweetheart,” James pulled you from Remus’ grasp to have you look at them. He held your face, looking at you with too much love as we wiped your cheeks again. You were still wincing, uncomfortable from all the attention. Sirius turned your face to see him.

“You’re breakin’ our hearts, sweet thing.” He smiled sadly at you. “Can’t believe you would think that.” He stroked your jaw with his thumb, pity covering his features. James let you go so that Sirius could have his turn loving on you. He held your gaze, letting his fingers roam over your features. “My baby, you’re so pretty. So, so fucking pretty. There’s nothing you could do to make us think otherwise. No reason to ever have to hide yourself from us.” He glanced over to Remus, wordlessly asking for the glasses. You tried to shrink away, but you were stopped by his hold on you.

“You’re gonna hate them.” You warned, giving up on winning this battle. Remus scoffed.

“You really think some glasses are gonna stop you from being gorgeous?” He asked like you were being silly. “Do you think that James is ugly? Do you think that we think James is ugly?” He looked at you accusatory.

“No! Of course not!” You looked at James, floundering to make sure he wasn’t hurt. He just smiled at you reassuringly, placing a hand on your shoulder to placate you.

“See, if you can love me with mine, then hopefully you can see that we love you with yours.” James rubbed your back as Sirius slid the frames onto your face, leaning forward to kiss your nose.

“See? Absolutely gorgeous.” The pale boy praised. James turned you to face him, eyes swelling with fondness as he grabbed your face in his hands.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed. “I love them!” They had all known that you were getting glasses, but they hadn't seen them yet. You shied under his love. “You look so fucking precious.” He cooed, turning your face to let Remus see. “What do you think, Moons?” He leaned down to kiss your cheek.

“Perfect.” Remus smiled softly, making your own spread across your face.

Maybe they weren’t so bad.

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holylulusworld · 1 year ago

Text

Indecent Proposal (5)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of former shitty boyfriends, the reader doesn’t take shit from anyone, sexy mobsters, slow burn (kinda), fluff, first date, a hint of making out, please don’t put your cat into a tux 😉

Indecent Proposal (4)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

“8 pm, wear whatever you want,” you read the message coming along with the huge bouquet of roses out loud. “If you want to, you can wear the gift.”

You dip your head to glance at the box containing the most beautiful, and probably most expensive dress you ever saw. Sexy but classy, your mother would say.

They gifted you a rose solid one-shoulder cape bodycon dress. “It’s nice but…” You lick your lips.

Scott never put much effort into your dates. The only thing he ever bought for you was some ice cream. In the end, he ate it and you had to buy a new one.

“It’s really nice,” you dip your head to look at your cat. “What do you think, Alpine? Do you want mommy to wear the dress and get banged like never before or do we want to spend the night cuddling on the sofa?”

Alpine lifts his head, meows, and ignores you once again. He’s a lazy fluffy beast when you are alone. Your cat only ever got aggressive and loud when Scott was around.

“So…you want me to go and have some fun?” You question. “Come on, Alpine. I need your help to decide if it’s better to pack my shit and run or get whatever I desire from those sexy bastards.”

Alpine slowly gets up from the bed to walk toward the box with the dress. He steps inside with two paws, sniffing at the dress. “What?”

He meows loudly and jumps into the box to snuggle into the dress.

“Now that’s not nice of you! Alpine, you’ll ruin the dress. There will be hairs all over the dress, you sneaky bastard!”

You sigh and grab your phone. If you want to go out, you gotta tell them you cannot wear the dress.

“Hello doll,” Bucky immediately picks up the phone, taking you by surprise. You almost dropped the phone. “What can I do for you, pretty girl?”

“I-I can’t wear the dress, Mr. Barnes.”

“Why? Do you not like it? It’s the color, right?” Steve must’ve snatched the phone out of his husband’s hands. “I told Bucky so.”

“No…it’s nice…very nice….but Alpine just snuggled into the box and won’t let me grab the dress. He’s a bastard!”

“Let me handle this!” You hear a commotion, and then someone knocks at your door. “Doll! Y/N! It’s me Bucky. Lemme inside. I’ll take the bastard down.”

“What?” You walk a little faster when you hear his voice grow louder. “Mr. Barnes. What are you doing?” You scream as the door bursts open.

“Where is the bastard?” He rushes inside your apartment, gun aimed as you stumble back. “Where is he? Did he hurt you? Are you hurt?” Bucky looks you up and down while Steve follows him inside your apartment.

“No-no—” you stammer and point at your bedroom. “Please don’t shoot him. He’s an asshole but I like him.”

“I got it covered!” Bucky disappears inside your bedroom, and you worry he’ll shoot your cat. A heartbeat passes, and another until you hear him chuckle inside your bedroom.

“Please don’t shoot him!”

“Stevie, look at that little bastard!” Bucky walks out of the room, holding your cat in his arms. “The little furball snuggled into the dress I got for Y/N. I bet he smelled me on it. Look.”

You gasp as your cat rubs his head against Bucky’s chest. He purrs and allows Bucky to pat his head. “But…but he hates men.”

“Nah, he loves me,” Bucky ruffles Alpine’s fur. “Right buddy? You like your new daddy.”

“Buck, no!” Steve shakes his head. He already knows what his husband is about to say.

“Can we keep him? Let’s bring Y/N and the cat home,” Bucky hums as your cat jumps onto his shoulder. Alpine taps Bucky’s shoulder with his paws before getting comfortable. “Aw, look at the pretty boy.”

“You must excuse my husband,” Steve sighs again. “He just loves getting all the attention from pretty girls and boys.”

“As if you never tried to get some pretty guy’s attention,” Bucky grunts.

“Well, I got yours, didn’t I,” the blonde says. “I don’t have time for other boys. You give me a run for my money already.”

“Can we keep him?” Bucky pouts and points at your cat on his shoulder. “Doll, you wanna go home with us and take Alpine with you, right?”

“We were talking about a date,” you point out. They don’t need to know you imagined how it would be to live with them. “I can’t just move in with you. I got a job, and my cat…and all my stuff.”

Steve looks around your living room. “We can bring all your belongings to our home within three hours. No problem.”

You gape at them. “What? When I tried to get a mover, they told me I’d get an appointment in four months!”

“Oh, baby doll,” Steve cups your face with both hands (much to his husband’s chagrin) and presses a soft kiss on your lips. “Your wish is our command. Name it and it will happen.”

“I-“ You're overwhelmed once again. No one ever put so much effort into winning you over. Scott simply invited you for dinner (which you had to pay for in the end). “I wanted to have dinner first and wear the dress.”

“Hmmm…” Bucky nods thoughtfully. “How about we order the food you love from any restaurant in town? We can eat within an hour.”

“Let me guess,” you roll your eyes at Steve, “you want me to have dinner with you at your home.”

“Bucky is not wrong,” Steve gets cocky and steals another kiss, eagerly suckling at your tongue. “We would have you all to ourselves and you’d have our full attention. We promised to behave too.”

“I don’t believe you,” you cup the back of Steve’s back and dominate the next kiss, “but you broke my door. I’ll have dinner with you at your home and spend the night at your home with Alpine until you repair my door.”

“Woohoo!” Bucky whistles. “We will get lucky soon, Steve.”

“No sex!” You tut. “I want more than one date. If you want to have children with me, I’m going to be a mom, and you are going to be fathers. We should know more about each other than the size of your dicks and how my pussy tastes.”

“Oh, fuck me, Stevie! She’s going to be the death of us…”

“How did you do this?” You step inside the dining room, gasping loudly as there are roses on the table, and candles lit. You can smell the food you ordered and the two of them wait for you, wearing tuxedos.

“Magic,” Bucky smirks as you glance at Alpine sitting on one of the chairs. “See, Alpine is wearing a tux too.”

“How’d you get the beast inside the tux?”

“I made a few calls while Bucky dressed the cat,” Steve walks toward you to pull the chair for you. “He’s a little giddy tonight. Bucky is pumped up from the incident earlier. He didn’t listen to your words and believed you were in danger.”

“How’d you come to my place so fast?” You sit down and watch the men take a seat next to you. Steve to your right, and Bucky to your left. “Wouldn’t it be better if we can look each other in the eyes while having dinner?”

“We were watching your apartment to make sure you’re safe and sound,” Bucky blurs out before Steve can come up with a lie. “We care for you, baby doll.”

“Did you stalk me?” You cock a brow. “Bucky?”

He’s busy playing with your cat and doesn't answer.

“We call it keeping you safe, Y/N,” Steve answers before his husband can mess the night up even more. “Our kind of business is dangerous. We fear that people already know that you are our girl. Scott couldn’t keep you safe, but we can.”

“I don’t know if you want to scare me,” you lean closer to Steve to look him deep in the eyes, “or make me wet before I have had dinner…”

Part 6

Tags in reblog.

#Indecent Proposal (5)#steve rogers #bucky barnes #mobster!steve rogers #mobster!bucky barnes #mafia au #stucky x reader #stucky x female reader #female reader

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writersblockedx · 5 months ago

Text

Something Inappropriate: Chapter Two

Read Chapter One here

Pairing - Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary - When Y/n's becomes endangered and has nowhere else to go, Spencer is the only one who can offer her the security she needs. Warnings - Panic attack, mentions of a past toxic relationship, stalking, some violence words - 2.3K

A/n - If you have any requests please put some in my ask box, I'm running out of ideas but I am obsessed with this man.

Masterlist

The morning after was one brought with embarrassment and regret. Y/n hadn't expected to get so drunk that her behavioural analysis professor was the one taking her back home, his hand at her waist, guiding her from his own car almost to her room. It was a memory she wished she could choose to forget. Alas, Monday morning rolled around quicker than she wanted.

Her first lecture was on victimology with the one and only Doctor Spencer Reid. And that morning was the first morning she didn't take one of the seats in the front row. Rather, she hid herself between fellow students and kept her head down. What she hadn't been aware of however, was the fact Spencer had been watching her from the moment she wandered into the lecture hall.

The truth was, the man had grown worrisome once he left the girl. She was an intoxicated young woman - there was a scary amount of danger which came with that. He knew so, he had seen it, he had seen so many bodies that were exactly like Y/n.

When an hour passed and students began filtering out of the lecture hall, Y/n found that the time to give the man an explanation - along with an array of apologises. Having her professor walk her home drunk certainly wasn't her finest moment.

The girl drew towards the desk where he was seated at the front, watching carefully at the other students who were paying no attention as they left. "Hi," Her voice was barely even a whisper.

But Spencer had offered her a smile which assured her that he hadn't any negative feelings from Friday night. He stood from his desk, "How are you feeling? I hope you had gotten enough sleep Friday."

She returned the smile. But her's was weak in comparison, "I certainly didn't wake up early Saturday." A moment passed and the man clocked the way she was checking the people around her as the very last students dawdled out the lecture hall. "I erm- thank you for what you did, you didn't have to but well, I'm glad you did."

"Any of your professors have a responsibility for your well-being and care, I'm sure any one of them would have done the same." But that was just it - they wouldn't have.

This was more than that. "It's not just that," She swallowed and double-checked they were alone. "I erm- I have this ex-boyfriend you see...scary, aggressive." Y/n's voice was beginning to shake; this wasn't a topic on which she was keen to speak about. "Even still, I mean it's been almost six months. He's determined to get to me, anyway he can. Friday night was my first night out since I left him. It's why I didn't go with the others to the club. He's well, risky and I have to be careful." Spencer had been listening ever so intently, his eyes pooling with sympathy from the moment she started opening up.

And then she shrugged as if what she had just said was nothing, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, had I walked home alone last night and he- he knew, well..." She didn't want to finish her sentence, nor did she have to.

Spencer understood. In the sense that he had hunted stalkers and resentful exes. He knew how they thought and more importantly, he knew how the victims felt. He knew exactly what she was going through. Now more than ever, he was relieved that he had taken her home. Before now, he wondered whether it had been inappropriate. But now he had reason for his actions.

"If anything ever happens, with him or anyone, anything, I'm always here." He assured with the tug of a grin.

She nodded, "Thank you, sir." She awkwardly crossed her arms over her stomach, barely able to meet the man's eyes. "You truly don't know the help you gave me that night."

"Always."

And them words echoed throughout her mind.

The professor was not only smart but kind. Far too kind. The way he spoke to her, the offer of support, it had made her heart weak. And for the rest of that month, she had spent it at the front row, asking for extra help on her essay, anything she could do. And maybe it wasn't just about needing support with her academics, but also finding security in someone. Something of which she had never really had. Especially after him.

It was just expected something was going to kick off. A week prior to the incident, Y/n had several facebook messages all from different accounts from her dreaded ex-boyfriend. All of which she had blocked. But they kept coming. Every morning she would grasp her phone, finding another request, another thread of messages. All of which were blocked, ignored, and tried to erase from her memory.

And then, on what seemed like the first day of Summer, it happened.

She was sat outside a bar with a couple of friends, drink in hand, giggling at something her male friend, Zack, had said. Everything was bliss. Drinks, conversation, friends. It was almost too perfect.

And then the ex-boyfriend wandered over. He had noticed Y/n from afar, storming over, yelling and anger forced from his lips. It had all happened in a flash. Zack stood to Y/n's defence. The next thing that happened, he had a bruised eye. Everyone was yelling. But he, the ex, he was yelling at her.

A punch.

A slap.

A scream.

It was all to quick for Y/n to keep up with. Things escalated and actions were chased. Not one of them were thinking things through. And when everything was all over, when one of the bartenders at the venue dragged the man away, Y/n could barely move. Tears were spilling from her eye line, pooling down her face. And when the chorus of 'are you okays' followed, she couldn't move her lips.

"I should walk you home," Offered one of close friends.

But even after the girl had registered her words, her head shook, "No, no I can't." One thing about this certain ex-boyfriend was that he hadn't never gone quietly. Too many times than she could keep count of, the man knocked on her door, found her in college, even a couple of times went knocking at her friend's houses and accommodation.

She couldn't go home - she couldn't go anywhere.

And then, her mind ran back to the most recent place in which she had felt safe: Doctor Spencer Reid. She swallowed and sniffled at her fallen tears, "I'll message you later," She told her group.

Zack, who had been nursing an early bruised eye, spoke first, "Where are you going to go?" He questioned as the concern for his friend was written over his tone.

"To get some help," She replied with the weakest smile she could muster. "I'll see you guys tomorrow," She gave them each a glance before turning her back. She didn't dare stay at that bar, she didn't dare go home, but she wanted somewhere safe. And that some place just happened to be a certain professor.

Y/n weaved through the college. Though with the time and the weather, it was practically empty. A few faculty members whom gave her a second glance when they caught the sight of her tears. And when she finally reached Doctor Spencer Reid's office, she didn't even bother knocking. Luckily, he was alone, grading papers and creating lesson plans. But at the sound of his door clicking open, his head lifted. Within a millisecond, his expression moulded into one of utter distress and worry.

He stood from his chair, watching as the flood gates opened from her pupils. "Y/n," He spoke her name like it was a prayer. "What- what happened?"A gentle hand reached out to her shoulder before he gestured for the girl to take a seat at the leather couch which faced his desk.

The girl followed him, not yet able to get breath out - never mind words. Her tears trailed down her cheeks as Spencer returned to the couch with her, a tissue in his hand, "Here," He gazed over her, attempting to try and find any suggestion to what might have happened. "Hey, you need to try slow down your breathing, in for four, out for six, okay?" He soothed, "I'll do it with you."

Y/n watched Spencer's chest a he gulped in a breath, holding it and then letting the air slowly exit his lungs. She followed along. And while it was a struggle at first, slowly, her breathing calmed and her tears dried. "That feel better?" The man questioned.

She nodded, "Yeah, yeah," The girl could only mumble. "Thank you."

"Of course, I used to have panic attacks at work sometimes," He admitted before standing, grasping a bottle of water from his wooden desk and handing it over to her. "You don't have to tell me, but if something happened, I'd like to know."

For a moment, her eyes fluttered away, finding the floor more interesting than he. She at least needed to explain to him why she had turned up at his office in such a state - it wasn't as if he didn't know the background anyway. "You remember that ex boyfriend I told you about?" Spencer nodded in understanding; it was almost like that was all he needed to know. "He spotted me in a beer garden with some friends and well...he snapped. I couldn't- I didn't-"

The man watched as her breath itched like she was unable to catch up with it once again, "It's okay," He calmed as his hand fell atop of her's. The girl's eyes shot up at the movement, to his skin falling over her own. It was supportive, she told herself. "Take your time."

And she did. A minute or so had passed and, when she felt ready, she continued to explain: "It happened so quick, I couldn't do anything but watch." She swallowed the lump which had grown harsh in her throat. "He knows where I live, he knows my friends, he knows everything." She wanted to point out how he didn't know Spencer but chose not to. "That's why I came here...I didn't have anywhere else." She explained.

Spencer was taking it all in. He glanced at her and he realised this sudden need to keep her safe, to protect her. The man tried to excuse that as his teaching duty, but this was more. She was more. "You know you can always come to me when you ever have any concerns." He reassured. "It's what I'm here for, and, personally, I believe you should talk to the student wellbeing team, they have the connections that will keep you safe." That's who should protect her - not him.

But Y/n's response suggested that wasn't an option, "Trust me I tried last year, they tried too, went to the police and anything - ironically enough." She scoffed ever so slightly as she leant back onto Spencer's couch, "They had a 'stern talking' to him, but it only made things stop for month." She went over, the memory of which still agitated her. And Spencer could tell such with the way her eyes were fighting to roll. "I don't know what to do now, I mean, I can't go home." If history had taught the girl anything, her ex-boyfriend would already be waiting for her at the accommodation hall.

"Y/n, I do hope you understand the severity of this," Spencer started, "This is text-book stalking. If the wellbeing team talking to the police didn't do anything, than maybe an FBI agent talking to them might." He offered.

Her brows raised, "You'd do that?"

"Only if you wanted me to."

Y/n thought it over but it was an easy answer; anything to get this to stop. "Please."

"Okay then, tomorrow, I'll go with you to the police station, we'll talk to them together and this time, i swear to you, they will put a stop to this." He seemed to promise. But this was no promise he should be making to a student - this sense of protection was one of which was questionable.

She offered him a smile and a, "Thank you." But a question still nagged at the both of them.

It was that desire to protect the girl which urged Spencer to speak, "Do you have somewhere safe you can stay tonight?"

Not her flat that was certain. Even a friend's house was out of the question. A motel...maybe. Y/n sound herself shrugging, "Not at mine no, he's been known to go to my friend's places too and my parents, they're travelling." They were always travelling - spending her inheritance money you see. "I've got some cash, I'll probably go stay at a motel for the night."

The thought of Y/n tossing and turning in a scratchy, stone-like mattress only made Spencer's heart ache. He didn't dare to let them thoughts consume him. So, instead, he offered an alternative solution. "I understand if you're not comfortable, but I have spare room, you're more than welcome if you need."

Her eyes shot up to his, almost like she didn't believe him, "Are you- are you sure?" Surely that wasn't allowed. Though, Y/n (and Spencer too), decided to tell themselves this was different. This situation was well...it had room for things that would otherwise seem inappropriate.

"Of course, you need to be safe and I won't let you sleep in a motel room." Spencer doubted she would even get any sleep at all.

And in that moment, in the aftermath of her panic attack, she accepted, "Okay then."

Taglist - @tonystankhere Let me know if you would like to be added for this little series / any future spencer fics :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #professor spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #x reader #fanfic #imagine #oneshot

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2kverrr · 4 months ago

Text

SAM GIDDINGS - Dating Headcanons

UNTIL DAWN || Sam Giddings x Reader

sam had 0 time for drama, especially including that of her own friends'. And being one of emily davis' closest friends basically encased your life in her drama.

you didn't feel as close with sam as you were with the group. but you felt most drawn to her, her maturity, her nurture, her kindness. more or less everything your friends lacked.

she's kickass, not scared to put someone in their place, something you never quite found the confidence to do.

she hates fishing, loves gardening, tolerates publicly accessible nature reserves, enjoys outdoor activities, despises zoos and you're not so sure how you know all of this.

you doubt she knows a single thing about you. it's weird - you can be friends with the top dogs and have some sort of silly superiority over people, yet nobody really knows you.

you and sam had spoken numerous times before, each you could remember were rather enjoyable. the two of you got on really well, but it was rare either of you could get any time alone

that was until you were approximately 4 weeks away from winter break.

"for fuck's sake em, just call him." you groan, your left hand massaging the bridge of your nose, but the girl straight out refused aggressively shoving her hands onto her hips and socking her head, yelling, "how many times do i have to tell you. i? am. not. wanting. i. am. wanted. a girl like me doesn't chase after people, they cha-""emily i'm going to leave you with your problem, since it is yours, not mine. see you at lunch." and with that, you head out of the girls' bathroom and out into the busy corridor.

you catch a glimpse of sam leaning against a locker, scrolling through her phone. There’s an ease in her posture that draws you in despite the weight of your worries - well emily's. “hey, everything okay?” sam looks up, her hazel eyes sharp and assessing. it’s both intimidating and comforting at the same time. you take a breath, trying to shake off the frustration of the last few minutes. “just another day in the life of emily,” you say with a half-hearted chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. sam arches an eyebrow, not buying the attempt at humour.

"mike? is she still hung up over him?" she asks, her voice laced with understanding. you nod, with a deep sigh and an eye roll. "well, at least you're not like that, that's what I like about you." but you're too caught up in staring at her moving mouth to actually respond, before you know it she's waving her hand in front of your face, "huh- sorry, what were you saying?" she giggles, picking up the books from her locker and beginning to make her leave, "I'll see you around."

that interaction definitely stuck with you, or maybe it didn't, but the fact that you continued to think about it for the rest of the day is a big giveaway.

you're almost certain the corner of your eye spotted a suspicious emily briefly witness the interaction and watch you stare giddings down as she walked away, but that's a conversation for later.

after that talk with the blonde, you both found yourselves in more situations on your own, bumping into each other in the hallway, finding yourselves bored at parties, fixing your makeup in the bathroom mirror and seeing a certain hazel-eyes blonde behind you.

the week of receiving the message from josh, you and sam became really close, almost replacing emily in some way. besides, emily was now happily married off to matt, a sweet boy, not the sharpest tool in the box though.

you'd manage to persuade her to let you give her a lift to josh's mountain getaway, despite her refusal she ended up in your passenger seat feeding you mints as you drive.

you get out of your car and begin to lug bags out, placing them on the floor, sam is busy checking out her surroundings quite contently. but she swiftly turns around to face you, "hey, i wanted to tell you something," you raise your head curiously along with a quirked eyebrow, "i know we've been hanging out a lot lately," she continued, her voice dropping to a more conspiratorial tone. "but it feels different, doesn't it? like, we've really clicked, and I really like it - so please expect me to follow you around like a puppy dog... i still can't look at all the guys the same after last year." her eyebrows furrow. you sigh softly, the gears in your mind turning as you contemplated her words, "i get it sam, i like it too," you smirk, ", now am i taking both of our bags up or are you gonna' lend a hand?" she chuckles, her tension breaking as a playful glimmer replaces her earlier seriousness. "ugh - i really thought i'd get away with that." "i'll take them up for you. just lead the way," you nod, "this place really freaks me out."

settling in was a bit of a cofuffle, sam bagsied our rooms and had already called dibs on a bath.

you'd barely made it up the mountain with yours and her bags before she'd waltzed in, beckoning you to hurry up. don't even start on the wall you had to hop.

"guys, guys, hold your horses. we can't get comfy yet - generators, boilers and locks. i've sent mike and jess off to the generator outdoors, em and matt are... um- somewhere," josh takes a long scan for the couple that weren't present, ", right! sam's bath, boiler's downstairs, switch it on then you can have your beloved bath." she firmly places her hands on her hips and tilts her head, "you think i know how to work those kin-" you're quick to cut her off, "i'll go, can't be that hard." shrugging your shoulders. "that's the spirit, amigo!" the dark-haired boy cheers, fussing up your hair. of course sam's protests began, and again you managed to butt in. "look, i know what i'm doing, trust me.” you say, trying to keep the tension in the room from rising. “it should be pretty straightforward. i'll check for the spark plug first—if it’s clean, just give it a gentle pull. worst-case, i might have to troubleshoot a bit more," there's a bit of a silence, confusion mostly, "yeah, um- my dad's a plumber.” you didn't exactly understand half the words you'd just said but if it gave you a chance at impressing sam, it was so worth it. she slowly smiles, "impressive..." biting her lip, looking you up and down with newfound admiration. "who knew you had all these hidden talents?" she teases, eyes sparkling with mischief. "maybe you can teach me a thing or two about plumbing after this bath fiasco." the playful banter felt like a breath of fresh air amidst the clamour of everyone scurrying around and arguing, and you couldn’t help but swell with pride. “alright, let’s see if I can live up to the expectation,” you reply, trying to sound more confident than you felt. josh looks between the two of you, a devious grin slowly forming on my face, "is this- oh wow. this- this is great!" he turns around, presumably going to find chris and ash, you do the same, not at all looking forward to seeing this 20 year boiler in all it's glory.

fortunately, the boiler hadn't frozen over completely.

the basement was eerie enough, never mind all of the creepy shit happening around you: screams, shouts, smashes. something wasn't right.

like any stereotypical horror movie, you walk right into the danger to find out what was going on."

and as always, you were right. josh's basement was fucked up, led to some sort of mine, where you soon found a battered and bruised mike, stumbling his way through the caved area. his ankle didn't look so good, but he didn't complain

the next half hour you were trying to navigate your way, the poor guy was traumatised, jess had disappeared, dead or alive? not a single clue.

there's apparently somebody or something out there with her and they're in the mines, you're baffled to say the least, but you stayed put.

all until a scream was heard, female, it was far yet so close.

"mike! what was that noise?" the two of you pause your movements, and prick your heads up, faint cries could be heard and the occasional, "anyone! help!" you knew that voice, almost naturally you race over the source of the noise, struggling to find a door, "where's jess? is it her? oh, please say it's her." mike whiles up against the wall while you attempt to barge your way in. "sam! i'm here, mike too. i'm coming in." “almost there!” you shout back to mike, who is still positioned by the flimsy beam of light your flashlights provide. he looks torn between helping you and staying on guard, eyes darting nervously around the oppressive shadows. the urgency in your efforts intensifies, and you feel your fingers digging into the rough surface of the door. it shifts slightly, just enough to give you hope, and with one last shove, it creaks open. you stumble inside, breathless, and immediately the air feels thicker, charged with an unsettling energy. "fuck sam! what the fuck happened?" the girl was tied up in a chair, nothing but a towel. whoever did this must've been fucked in the head, sick. you take a cautious step forward, your eyes zeroing in on the girl’s wide, terrified gaze. “you’re alright now,” you whisper reassuringly, though your own insides are knotting up at the sight. "oh my god, you're here... i- he chased me! th- then-" the blonde leans forwards into you once you complete untying her ankle bounds, sore red marks forming over her pale skin. her arms completely wrap around you, she's freezing. sliding off your hoodie and body warmer, you begin to wrap them around the girl. "-sam, it's okay. you can explain everything later. you safe now we-" but before you can finish your sentence, the girl leans in, connecting your lips in a kiss, short and sweet due to their being a third presence in the room. as your lips part, you both freeze, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden surge of intimacy in the midst of chaos. sam's eyes are wide with surprise, glistening with unshed tears, but there’s a flicker of gratitude behind her fear. you clear your throat, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, but the urgency of the situation quickly pulls you back to reality. "i thought you were dead, y/n.”

after all police interrogation had been completed, those who survived were wasting away. josh dead. matt dead. jess dead. sam and yourself isolated yourselves from the rest.

after sam almost sacrificed herself to save you, you made an oath to yourself that you're forever indebted to her.

you were in love - even amongst the sick and twisted events that you two had to go through.

you both didn't go out as much anymore, your previous party-girl lifestyle completely left behind.

instead you both settled on movie nights or cooking sessions.

you immediately expanded her music taste, she's a great girl but her music taste could definitely do with some improving.

rock climbing dates, kayaking, surfing (which you absolutely smashed - sam could barely stand up on the bored)

sam always managed to convince you to go camping with her, bribing you with all sorts, despite your hatred for bugs.

she's the most peaceful sleeper, she looks like and angel when fast asleep. you're both early birds, which meant you really enjoy spening the morning in bed just admiring one another.

every month or so you'll pay a visit to the friends you lost together, paying respects. hell even josh - sam calls him mentally ill, whereas you call him batshit crazy. but he was your friend, one of our closest, you're still unsure to this day why you were apart of his cruel game but you couldn't keep dwelling on the past so you came to forgive him.

it's even rare to see the friends that made it out alive, you knew chris and ash moved away together, forgetting all that had happened. the last you heard off of mike was "i'm igniting some old flames - definitely going for drinks soon?"

it'd been 3 months and you never went to see him.

you and sam assumed that old flame is emily, your once best friend who you hadn't spoken to since before the disaster.

#until dawn #until dawn x reader #sam giddings #samantha giddings #sam giddings x reader #samantha giddings x reader #until dawn sam #sam until dawn

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evilslushy · 20 days ago

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i really like ur ff ! it was so good . could u maybe write about hotboxing hamzahs car by the beach or something like that ?

HotBox Challenge ᯓᡣ𐭩

Hamzah x f!reader

Warning: a little suggestive! MDNI :)

(A/N): barely proofread this… but this is my first ever request outside of people I know!! I hope you like this anon,, I know I didn’t exactly let them hotbox the car but I hope you forgive me for that <3 MWAH (i luv ur request btw, truly challenged my writing #unique)

w: 1.4k

You shivered. Droplets of water dripping down your neck, leaving prints of a darker color on the fabric of Hamzah's dark green jacket. You licked your lips, savoring the salty coating on them as you rolled the windows up to block the breeze from blowing on you. You guys weren’t planning to get this wet but one thing led to another leading back to Hamzah (accidentally) aggressively pushing you into the beach. It wasn’t fully his fault, you kind of started it when nudged him for saying something you didn’t like.

Sighing, you pouted as you looked at the driver’s seat beside you. Your boyfriend’s guilt gnawed at him, pushing him toward a nearby supermarket for god knows what. “Hamzah, it’s fine!” You told him right before he sat you down on the passenger seat. “Just stay here for a second.” He cut you off, taking off his dark green jacket and putting it over you.

It’s been a few minutes since and he hasn’t been back, you wonder what he’s even looking for. Regardless, you hug yourself tighter—seeking warmth within yourself. Humming a song as you waited for his imminent arrival.

Your humming must’ve been loud enough to block out the sound of Hamzah’s footsteps. A knock on the window snapping you out your own trace, turning to be greeted by your boyfriend’s half smile; ushering you to unlock the doors. You smile back, shaking your head left and right. Hamzah’s smile dropped, a muffled: “babe, open. Please.” Heard by his window.

Obviously you weren’t actually planning to serve him hypothermia on a silver platter. Leaning over to push the lock open for him. Hamzah immediately opened the door to set a plastic bag on his seat, his hand rummaging through it to give you whatever took him so long to grab.

You raised an eyebrow as he pulled out a packet from the bag. A packet containing a small item—something you'd typically find inside a box with several others alike. Hamzah held it out to you with a sheepish grin, as if it were some kind of treasure he’d unearthed from a hidden aisle. “Self heating pads” he informs, “I didn’t realize it was this small when I bought them… if this isn’t enough I got a box.” His murmurs go unheard when you take it away from his hand, ripping it out of its plastic wrap—revealing a piece of fabric, seamed on its sides—so it’ll start warming up.

“Your jacket was warm enough, you didn’t have to.”

“I don’t know, I kinda just freaked out. It’s cold out. You might catch a cold.” He placed the plastic bag that contained the box of heating pads towards your lap. Sitting down and closing the car door behind him.

You didn’t know if it was because someone else was in the car now, or maybe the heating pads work like magic. Your body warmed up by the second, eyes shifting from the heating pad between your palms to the ocean waves crashing down—the only visible reflection on them being the bright full moon. So bright you could see the shoreline racing upwards as the waves came to an end, pulling backwards—the wet sand now richer in color.

Hamzah’s hands shifted around, from his thighs to the steering wheel. Lips twisting to refrain from asking what he wanted to ask. And if there’s anyone that can feel his awkwardness more than you… it would be Martin. Though regardless of that. You turned to look at him, Hamzah side-eyeing you with the same twist on his lip—slowly turning into a weak smile. “You look like you want to say something…” you softly noted.

Hamzah tilting his head, finally facing your gaze. He simply shook his head. Making you lay back against your seat with a sigh. You knew that look on his face. “Light it.” You mumble.

You guys were supposed to share a joint by the beach until he pushed you, then you got stuck in the car to warm up. You didn’t know that in his mind the joint was the main part of this rushed ‘date.’

Your excited boyfriend is not wasting any second to pull the joint out and light it. Chuckling at his urgency, you comment: “damn, I didn’t know you were that excited about it.”

Hamzah closed his eyes as the smoke filled his lung, sighing it out while resting his head back on the headrest. “Long week.” Was all he said in response. Passing you the joint without looking. “Tell me about it.” You held it between your thumb and index, bringing it closer to your lips. “Long year at this point.” Finally taking a drag.

Your boyfriend hummed in agreement.

You shifted the joint between your fingers, the motion fluid, almost like a second nature—you moved it between your index and middle finger—making it more convenient for both of you. Your hand hovered near Hamzah’s lips. As you brought it closer, your fingers brushed softly against his lips—just a brief touch, but enough to send a quiet jolt through you. His lips parted slightly as he took a slow drag, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours for a moment. When he was done, he tapped your hand, the gesture almost careless, but the way his fingers lingered on yours said more than the action itself.

The sudden sensualness in the air must’ve been pent up. Maybe it was the fact that you haven’t kissed him today at all, or your body was still in need of additional warmth. Or maybe… you were making excuses because no one can resist your boyfriend; especially post hair-wash day when his curls are that defined.

His hand hesitated for a split second, just enough to make your heart skip. Then, with a subtle shift, his fingers grazed yours again—only this time, they lingered longer, almost deliberately. Slowly, he wrapped his hand around your wrist, gently but firmly guiding it away, as if it took everything in him not to harshly pull you closer. He leaned in, his presence warm against your aura, his lips meeting yours in a slow, sweet kiss. His lips hugging yours perfectly, that aroma of weed stuck to be tasted between you both. You pulled away, a bit knocked out of breath from the kiss. Hamzah chased your lips for a second before noticing that you were stopping to take it in, foggy smoke escaping his lips. “What about the joint?” You took the time to tease.

“Fuck the joint.” He could almost go unheard, not wasting any time to crash his lip against yours again. This time a little harsher, hungrier. You wanted to fight back, argue that you guys need to finish this joint that cost Hamzah money. Except it seemed like a lost cause to argue with him.

The way he was kissing you bubbled a giggle in your chest, slowly breaking away to let it out. Hamzah looking at you, a puzzled love dazed gaze falling from his eyes. His lips plumper than before, a pink hue reaching the top of his ears.

“Hamzah.” You say in between your giggles. “What… what?” He asked, a breathless laugh to mirror your expression. Smiling, your hands go up to cup his face. “I think this is our worst attempt in hotbox-ing a car.”

“Isn’t it better to do it later with Martin and Mandy?” He didn’t waste any time, kissing you after. You kissed back, your smile felt against his lips. You liked when he gets like this—it was rare but once you bent him up enough (not kissing him good morning) he can’t stop.

Your fingers curled the hair on the back of his head, opening your mouth slightly, Hamzah softly entering his tongue—groaning at the warmth of your mouth. Again, you pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting you both. You turn your head, turning off the joint by putting it in an open water bottle snuggled in the cup holder.

Hamzah looked at you when you turned back, expecting you to continue on. But you slipped your hands away from him, sitting back in your seat.

“Go back home, I need to change.”

Hamzah snarked, “leaving me hanging is not cool.”

“Your clothes are now wet too!”

“I don’t care!”

“Shut up. Home. Now.” Your tone was demanding but your smile held a shortsighted smile. Feeling a bit guilty for leaving him hanging, you kissed his cheek. “Sorry, baby. Promise I won’t leave you hanging when we’re at home.”

He reversed the car to pull out of the parking lot, a shy smile on his face. Humming to show his understanding.

Hotbox challenge: failed.

#hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #slushy virus #hamzah fluff #hamzah x reader #hamzah imagines #hamzah x y/n #slushynoobz #deer’s reqs!

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luveline · 2 years ago

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Eddie and Roan both catching a cold and the reader takes care of them 🥺?

thank you for your request! dad!eddie x (nearly)stepmom!reader <3 all the established relationship fluff and love i could fit into 6k cw suggestive scene (fade to black) ♥︎ eddie and roan

Eddie feels like shit when he finishes work. He's sweating so much he had to change his coveralls before getting in the car, and his head is pounding with an aggressive headache, but he pops two Tylenol with a rogue bottle of water and pulls out of the lot. He beeps at Wayne as he drives past him, and then he starts on the road that'll take him to Hawkins Elementary.

Roan's one of the youngest in her class but she sure doesn't look small sitting on the floor of her classroom. The door to the class is open, and Eddie feels a hundred miles better than he had when she catches sight of him and smiles at him like he's the best thing sliced bread. It amazes him that she seems so happy to see him day after day, each time like it's a marvel. Almost as if she's surprised.

"Hey," he says, bending down to catch her as she runs toward him, her cardigan soft under his hands.

"Hello," she says happily.

"Hey," he says again, and this isn't the time or place to cuddle but he does it anyway.

He indulges himself. Hugs from his daughter always make him feel better, especially when she's ecstatic to see him.

"Got all your stuff?"

"Yes," she says heavily.

"Even your water bottle?"

She shakes her shoulders. The water bottle inside of her backpack knocks against her lunch box. "Yes!"

"Okay– let's go home."

She beams. Eddie puts her down on her own two feet, her new cornflower blue sneakers like flowers blooming over asphalt with each step she takes. Eddie wonders what you did with all your spare cash before you started spoiling him and his girl, and he'd asked you once. You'd been sitting on the floor of a changing room with Roan, he could see your knees in the gap under the door as he waited outside, and you'd opened the door to show off the fancy dress Roan had been trying on and said, "My savings account was much healthier, but I mostly spent it on takeout. Now I got my own private chef, I don't need to get pizza so often."

Roan had heard the word pizza and that was it. Dress shopping was paused for the day, and the three of you shared a large Margherita in the car on the way home.

"What do we want for dinner today?" Eddie asks, Roan's hand swinging in his.

"What do we got?"

"I have lots of different pasta. Or we could make chicken." There's a plastic tupperware full of wings about to go bad. "Or maybe one of Y/N's favourites?"

Roan hops down off of the club and keeps close to Eddie's side as they cross the parking lot to his car.

Eddie doesn't wanna tell Roan you've been having a bad week because you don't wanna tell her, and it's not fair to kids to drag them down with you, but Eddie's not going to do that. He won't tell her your problem, how work has been making you especially miserable, how your coworkers aren't exactly kind. He'll just… express that you need some extra love.

"If we could make something for her together, that would make her so happy. She's been feeling real blue," he says tentatively.

Roan looks up at him with a frown. "She doesn't look blue. She looks normal'd."

"It's an expression," he says fondly. "It means she's been kinda sad."

Roan looks up at him, thick lashes kissing the skin below her eyebrows as her eyes widen. The neck of her soft blue cardigan is falling down one of her small shoulders, and he nudges her out of the way of the car door so he can get her in it before the cold catches up with her.

"Why is she sad?" she asks.

Her concern is clear. Eddie lifts her up under the armpits and proudly doesn't bump her head, stationing her in her car seat. She doesn't need his help getting in anymore, but old habits die hard.

"It's like… remember when those girls were picking on Stacey K, and she wanted to stay home from school? Y/N wants to stay home from work sometimes, but she has to be a big girl just like Stacey was and keep her head up."

"I shouted at the girls," Roan says. She sounds quizzical.

Eddie clips her seat belt over her chest and straightens out her knitted cardigan. "You're my bravest girl, that's why. You were a really good friend for Stacey." He kisses her forehead with a sticky, "Mwah!"

She's still giggling when Eddie closes her door and gets into the driver's seat. She tapers off as Eddie twists his key and starts the engine, and doesn't talk again until they're almost home. Eddie doesn't worry — she's listening to the kids cassette in the stereo, and she gets tired after school. Despite his best efforts he's exhausted himself. He'll ask her about school once he's in his pyjamas.

"Could you go into her job?"

"What?" Eddie asks, not really listening as he reverses backward into the driveway outside of your house. His house, your house together. You and him and Roan and Lucky the goldfish.

"Could you go be brave for mom?"

He smiles. He likes when she calls you mom more than he can put into words. "I could, but she won't let me. And it might make things worse, you know?"

"Why would it make things worse?"

"Uh, because grown ups don't really like when you try to tell them off."

"I don't like it either."

"I know you don't, babe."

Eddie gets out, releases the rascal, and the two of them jog up the few gentle steps to the door. He unlocks it and Roan stands patiently by the mat for him to take off her shoes. She could do it herself, but again — old habits die hard. He loves taking care of her and doing things for her, the little things and the big. Taking her shoes off is fun for both of them. She strokes hair out of his face so he's not blind and he squeezes her sock-clad toes until she squeals.

She makes for the living room for her after school cartoons.

"Hey, wait, Ro! I thought you were gonna help me make dinner?"

She grumbles but it's with a good-natured spirit, spinning on her heel but remaining in the living room. "I got to feed Lucky, daddy."

"Oh, right. You feed the fish, I'll get some jammies."

She nods, determined.

"Just a pinch! We don't want him to get fat and explode!"

"Ew!"

Eddie finishes work at 3PM to grab Roan when her elementary school ends at 3.30. You finish work at 5PM, and you don't get home most days until near 6PM. It's a big gap where they both miss you like crazy, but it usually means that dinners all done or getting there when you finally drag yourself inside.

Eddie can't lie, he hadn't pictured himself with a business woman. Though business might be the wrong word. You work an office job, and you wear professional office clothes, and God, it gets him pretty much every day. He prefers you in your pyjamas or your day clothes, sure, but there's something about you in your little pencil skirts and your soft cashmere sweaters, make up all smudgy and wearing off, kicking your short kitten heels in a pile at the door.

You peel out of your coat and Eddie watches from the kitchen doorway, arms scrubbed clean of grease and crossed against his chest.

"Hi, handsome," you say, more quietly than usual.

"Hey," he says. His throat aches a little. He puts it down to needing a drink. "Hey, sweet thing. You look tired. Want me to cheer you up?"

"Gotta see my girl first, sorry."

He pretends you've stabbed him, not the dramatic, fall-to-the-floor affair he might've pulled a couple of years ago, but a stabbing all the same. He rubs his heart and doesn't feel even slightly mad with you when he hears Roan's happy cry.

"You're home!"

"You didn't think I was coming home today?"

"You took six years," she says severely.

"Six!" Your cheerful laughter draws Eddie in like a moth to a light. He slides down the hall and around the stairs to watch you take Roan's face into your hands, her pale ones behind your back to keep her balance where she's standing on the couch cushions. "You don't look nearly twelve, bubby."

Your hand climbs her face. You press it to her forehead and he can hear your frown, though he can't see your face. "Are you feeling okay, Ro?"

Roan blinks. "I feel happy."

"Oh, do you? That's good!"

You pick her up, one hand behind her back and one under her butt, messy curls all in your face when Roan wraps her arms around your neck. You carry her to Eddie where he's lingering in the doorway, shifting her on your hip, a concerned tug to your brows.

Eddie brings a hand to her forehead himself, feeling along the warm skin gently. She's hotter than she should be.

"You're sure you feel okay?" he asks her.

Roan is confused by the attention, but she doesn't hate it. "Yes?"

"You feel super hot."

"I am super hot!" she says. She throws back her shoulders and does a practised pout, a model expression, her thin eyebrows bobbing down as she tries to wink.

You glow with love, Eddie can pretty much see it in the air as you laugh. "Super hot," you second, giggling and dropping sneaky kisses against her temple.

"You're beautiful," Eddie says pointedly.

"Super beautiful."

"Where'd you even learn that?" Eddie asks. "'Hot'?"

"You say to mom in the morning?" Roan says, like Eddie's an idiot as the three of you make you way to the kitchen. "She's so hot, and pretty, and you need to crack the window!"

Eddie covers his mouth. "You heard that?" He meets your eyes and he knows how he looks, a rosy tint taking to his otherwise pale cheeks.

"And when you were singing, too."

"Oh, my god."

You laugh like crazy, giggles bubbling out of you like a soda rocket and quickly turning to bigger, fuller peels that would usually make him laugh too. He'd serenaded you this morning, a bumpy and extremely sincere rendition of As Long As It's Not About Love. He'd been trying to convince you to come back to bed, pencil skirt and all, for one last kiss.

"Roanie, I didn't know you were awake, baby. You should come and say hi once you're up." A warning would be good.

"I was too tired to move, daddy, I already told you."

"Yeah, dad," you say, "she already told you, so back off."

Eddie waves his hand at both of you. "Who needs you guys? I'll just eat this delicious dinner we made by myself."

He doesn't eat dinner by himself. He pulls the tray from the oven he'd covered over and you set the table. Roan pours juice into a cup for herself and doesn't tip any of it onto the table, for which she receives a heaping mound of praise. Eddie cracks open a can of ginger ale and pours it into a darker glass so you won't spot that it isn't normal soda and worry. He'll be fine in the morning, he knows.

When you find out they've made your favourite, you get all mushy. You wrap your arms around his neck and rub your cheeks together, and you smile around every mouthful. You eat dinner as a family, and afterwards, Eddie lets Roan fill the bath right to the top with bubbles and brushes out her curls, which hang straight with the weight of the water. He gets her out, wraps her up in a poncho, and laments the loss of her baby curls as you sidle past him to wash the bubbles out of the bath and climb in the shower.

"Her hair's not as curly as mine was when I was a kid," he says, calling to be heard over the sound of the water. He can see your silhouette behind the shower curtain, an underwater scene of dolphins and tropical fish.

"You think it'll get straighter?" you ask between squeezes of the shampoo bottle.

Eddie rubs Roan's cheeks dry with a face towel gently. The hot water has pretty much knocked her out, her eyes drooping. "Probably. It's already way less curly than when she was a baby."

He picks her up. She's limp. "I'm gonna go get her dressed!"

"Okay, handsome, I'll be right out. Make sure there's still some hot water for you."

Eddie dresses Roan and dries her hair with a blow dryer, cold air fighting against the fatigue stealing her away. She shivers and he turns it up to the first heat, careful not to burn her scalp. Eddie could barely look after himself at nineteen, and just around seven years later he's an expert in taking care of someone else. Well, maybe not an expert. He's good, though, and he tries hard enough and with enough pure love to make up for any mistakes.

"You're so tired, babe," he says softly, clicking off the hairdryer to rake his fingers through her still warm hair. It looks very straight now, only the ends remaining curled. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She reminds him of the quieter girl she'd been. Roan had taken a little time to come out of her shell, tantrums aside, and meeting you had pretty much rocketed her into extrovertedness. It happened slowly and all at once — one day she was just loud, and cheerful, and so, so charming. He loves her now and he'd loved her then. Quiet Roan is like an adorable treat, but it also points to bad tidings.

Roan is quiet when she's sick, sad, or confused.

Eddie's betting it's the first. He presses his hand against her forehead but of course she's warm, she'd been in a warm bath only twenty minutes ago.

She doesn't answer him. She looks small in her big princess bed, her sheer cherry pink curtains hanging down to compliment the brand new and puffy quilt he'd bought for winter. Her legs are crossed, one bare foot sticking out. Eddie crouches in front of her, scratching the sole of her foot with his pinky nail to make her smile.

"There's my girl." He flicks her knee. "You want me to read you something, sweetheart? I don't think we're gonna make it to the couch tonight."

"Can we have Bad Cat Saves the World?" she asks.

Eddie drags her up to the huge pillows against the headboard and pushes her chest mildly. She tips back into the pillows with a pleased huff. Her lack of outrage clues him in.

Roan is sick.

"You can have anything you want if you drink some water before bed."

"Wugh," she says.

"That's almost a real word. Good job, babe."

"Thank you."

—

You step out of the shower and wrap a towel around yourself quickly. The bathroom is thick with heat, so you push open the window and stand in the cold breeze. The window must be open in Roan's room, you realise, when you hear the dulcet tones of Eddie's reading voice floating toward you.

"And Bad Cat said, no, Mr. President, I'm the one flying the plane! He wiggled his whiskers and pushed the wheel left with one of his ginger paws, the aeroplane shooting through the sky at top speed. I'm going to save the world, Bad Cat cried."

Eddie does the best voices, truly. He's high and low, scratchy and sweet. He takes all the right pauses and kicks it up a notch at the most exciting parts, reading line after line in a whirl. Your skin feels dry and chapped as his voice begins to quieten; you've listened for too long.

You step into your shared bedroom, pull on some underwear but no bra, and try to lotion up before he comes in and sees you naked. You don't know if he'll have Roan with him. The door creaks open and you squeak, forcing yourself deeper into the wardrobe you'd been searching through.

"I'm not dressed!" you say.

It wouldn't really matter if Roan saw you naked, she's just a baby and you're a family, but there's nothing wrong with having the boundary there either. Luckily there's no Roan in tow with Eddie either way.

"Is that a promise?" he asks, and his eyes light up when he enters.

You cross your arm over your chest and dig for a t-shirt to wear.

"Don't look, perv."

"We're getting married," he says. "I've seen it all already."

"I don't care, perv, stay back." You slip a loose t-shirt over your head and bend down again for some pyjama pants.

It doesn't matter what you say. Eddie comes up behind you where you're bending over and leans into you, arms needling around your waist, one greedy hand under your shirt and squeezing the soft roll of your stomach. You shoot up and smile at him from over your shoulder. It's odd. Despite what you'd joked, you don't mind him seeing you undressed. How could you? You've loved one another for longer than you ever could've imagined, in ways you didn't know people did. You know Eddie thinks you're beautiful, and you don't look like someone from the magazines. They're two coinciding facts.

"She's sleeping?" you ask.

"She wiped out completely. I think she might be coming down with something."

You frown. "Poor baby."

"It's alright. We'll take care of it as it comes."

"We will." You nudge the tip of his nose with yours, aware of how quiet the house is, and how much you've missed him all day. "Are we going to bed, too?"

His hands come up. It's not not sexual, but it's more intimate than anything else as he grabs at the soft skin of your torso and then, tentatively, your chest.

Your lips drift closer and closer, and when he kisses you it's achingly slow, close-lipped. He pulls your back to his front and your crane your neck, hands covering his hands, eyes shuttering as he gets a little more insistent. It can only be a couple of seconds, held-breath heart-pounding seconds that make your tummy roll with heat, before he's pulling away.

"Baby, I think I might be coming down with something, too."

It takes a second for his words to calibrate. "You're sick?"

"My head's been pounding all day. I want you, but– I don't wanna get you sick," he says. He sounds so torn.

"You're sure it's not a one day thing?" you ask, frowning.

He swallows a lump in his throat. "Regretfully."

If he's sick, and Roan's sick, you can't get sick too. It would throw a huge spanner in the works. Eddie's immune system is a sinking ship on a normal day. When he gets sick, it's bad.

You untangle yourself from Eddie's grasp and feel his disappointment. It's sweet that he wants to keep you from the same fate as him.

You take his face into your hands.

"Go take a shower, handsome, and then…" You stare straight into his eyes, brown honey ringed with light. "We won't kiss. Or, you won't kiss me on the lips. Yeah?"

He pulls your hand from his cheek to squeeze your fingers, a tight bunching full of promise. "Yeah. It's gonna break my heart–"

"I'm sure," you say.

"–but I'll make it up."

You walk backwards out of his arms and flop languidly into the clean white sheets on your bed, toying with the bottom of your t-shirt. "Whatever you say, bub."

Eddie sets the record for world's quickest shower that night.

—

Eddie wakes up. He's expecting that post-sex bonelessness, like every bit of tension has been pulled from him by your delicate fingers, but instead feels as if he'd been hit by a truck. Last night had been the total opposite of rough. It isn't the sex that's messed him up.

He's sick.

Shit, he thinks, rubbing his dry face with a hand warmed by your back.

You lay over his chest, your lips to his heart, the dark tattoo covering it. One hand crushed under your side curls weakly by his hip, and the other is hidden pretty much inside his armpit. He snorts at you and your blank expression, but smiles when he remembers the sweet, soft way you'd looked at him last night, your eyelashes heavy with unshed happy tears, your arms tight around his shoulder blades like you'd worried he'd disappear. He hadn't been able to kiss you like he wanted to, lips on your lips and just a little too much tongue, but he'd found the next best thing on the slope of your shoulder. He nudges your shirt down so he can peer at the poor scandalization of skin, that purple-red mess of burst capillaries wrought by his eager nibbling.

As much as Eddie would like to laze about with you in the afterglow at night, you're grown-ups. Which isn't to say he doesn't get his hugs in after, he does —he cuddles you, lays praise down thick, blushes without fail when you do the same— but he and you have a whole post-fuck routine; cleaning up, throwing the towel in the washing machine, changing the sheets if you need to.

Eddie will peek his head into Roan's room to check she's still sleeping, and, exhausted, the two of you go back to bed and fall asleep yourselves. He doesn't enjoy getting back into his pyjamas afterward, missing your skin pretty much instantly, but it's necessary, and proves to be when Roan pushes into your room that morning unannounced.

Eddie sits up and tries not to disturb you, finger to his lips.

"My stomach hurts," she says.

He eases you off of his chest and into the cool sheets where you usually sleep. He swings his legs around and finds it takes a lot more effort than usual.

"Yeah? Hungry hurts or like you need the bathroom hurts?"

"Just hurts," she says insistently.

Eddie stands, tucks you in as fast as he's able and turns to Roan. She stands at the end of the bed unsurely, hair at her neck curled up with sweat, her usually white face an unfortunate pink. He puts his arms out for her, groaning when he pulls her up his chest, her knees either side of his hip. She wants a hug and Eddie wants a second to digest what's happening, so he stops right there in the middle of the room and hugs her too his chest.

"Think you might be sick, baby," he says gently.

"Do I get the strawberry medicine?" she asks.

"Depends. Can you stop when you want to?"

"What?"

He laughs to himself. He wishes you were awake to laugh too, but he lets you sleep. "Yeah, you can have the strawberry medicine. How bad is it hurting, huh? Does your throat hurt?"

"Maybe."

He frowns at her tearful voice. "Oh, no… and your toes, are they orange?"

"Don't think so," Roan says, stretching one of her legs out and analysing her toes.

"Good," he says, giving you one last glance before he moves to the stairs, carrying Roan down them one careful step at a time. He doesn't trust his heavy head. "I thought for a second you had Alienitis."

"Alien-ites?" she asks.

He nods sagely, flicking on the hallway light as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. "It starts with a bad tummy, and then you start to turn orange from the toes until all your skin is shiny and slimy like a pool toy, and then your throat hurts."

He turns on the kitchen light and sets Roan down on the counter near the fridge.

"But you already have a bad tummy and a sore throat, so you definitely don't have Alienitis." He beams at her relieved face. "Thank the heavens."

He peels the thermometer off of the fridge. It's a magnet, made of paper, and you press it to your kids forehead and let it sit for a minute before you read it. He slaps it on her with a pretend aggression to make her laugh, and they both wait for it to warm up. Eddie looks down at her. She looks up.

"Come here often?" he asks.

"All the time. Do you?"

"Sometimes, yeah. See the game last night?"

"Which game?" she asks, pert nose wrinkling in confusion.

"Any of them?"

"I saw you and Y/N do the dishes dance."

"How'd you rate that? Out of ten?"

"You dropped your bowl."

"A five, then."

Roan presses her lips together. "She's always better."

"That's not fair, my hands get all soapy from the water."

Roan's temperature is a solid 102.

"It's official, you're sick." He rubs her cheek, her ear, her hair soft under his hand. "But I'm gonna fix you right up good as new, babe, so don't worry."

Roan leans back against the microwave oven and huffs forlornly.

"Hey, it'll be fine. It's gonna be better than fine, Ro. We'll make sure you have lots of yummy drinks and medicine and I'm sure if we ask really nicely your mom'll make her soup, and…" He loves how much Roan loves you, leaning in to emphasise the importance of what he's about to say. "She'll snuggle with you all. Day. Long."

"She will?"

Is she kidding? The second you find out Roan has a temperature, he'll have to pry you away from her with a crowbar.

"She will."

"Can we wake her up?"

He thinks about it. You've had a really hard week. You deserve to rest and catch up with the sleep you've been missing out on, but Roan's the confessed light of your life and she wants you. If he doesn't wake you up, you'll only ask why not.

"How about I put you on the couch with some TV and I'll go wake her up, and see how she's feeling?"

Roan pouts. "I want to."

He'd hoped to sneak in a hug, considering how his legs and arms and head are aching. But he finds it hard to be selfish when Roan looks the way she does now, her eyes pleadingly wide, thin brows threaded together at the starts. She puts her hands together.

"Okay, you can do it. But try to be nice. No shouting in her ears. This is strictly a hug operation."

Roan screws her hands in his shirt and he sets her down. She tiptoes down the hall, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom, Eddie behind her all the while unbearably enamoured.

He helps her climb into your bed. You've twisted onto your back now, and Roan carefully crawls to your side, snuggling up under the arm that isn't covered by blankets. You don't wake at first, but Roan rubs your tummy, whispers, "Please wake up, Y/N," and you rouse like magic. Your eyes remain closed by life flares into your limbs, arms wrapping around Roan, pulling her onto your stomach and chest automatically.

"I got a tummy ache," Roan says, a hint of desperation in her voice.

Your eyes open. Eddie suspects you don't even know he's there, your gaze locking onto Roan's.

"Yeah? What's the matter, princess, do you need me to pat your back?"

"No… it's all twisty. We took my tempa-chure and I'm too hot."

You look first to your side where Eddie usually lies.

"Over here, sweetness."

You push yourself into a sitting position with Roan locked to your front, pressing the back of your free hand to her head as you look to him for confirmation.

"One oh two," he says.

You sit her in your lap and flatten out her frizzy hair uselessly. Your frown melds to a put upon smile, a mom face. It says everything's going to be okay.

"Well, we better fix you up then, huh? We'll havta call Uncle Wayne for some of his tools," —you clear your throat, the tired scratchiness in your voice ebbing— "and tighten all your screws again. How's that sound?"

"I'm not a car," she laughs.

"What? Since when?"

You're soft in the mornings. Your eyes are swollen and puffy still, your voice a quiet but earnest hum. You look up over her head and he knows what you're thinking.

"I'm okay," he says easily. "I'll go get the phone."

Roan laughs full-belly. "Guys! I am not a car!"

"You beep like one," you say, pretending to honk her nose. "Beep beep."

It's the calm before the storm.

—

Roan cries and cries and cries. She's in your lap again, but this time you're downstairs on the couch with her softest throw blanket and a pillow, rubbing her poor tummy. You've spent the day waiting for her to throw up, but no dice yet. Eddie's trying very hard to help you out, though he's practically paralysed by a migraine in the armchair. Each rattle of Roan's sobbing makes him wince.

You have her propped against your chest, her shoulders heaving. There's an empty bucket used for washing the dishes at your feet. Roan is adamant she won't be sick.

"Do you want to go to the bathroom again?" you ask softly, rubbing her trembling arms in hopes of soothing her.

"No, I don't need to," she insists, "just hurts. I want more medicine, mommy."

You crumple like wet tissues. "I know, princess. Another hour and you can have more, I promise."

"I want it now."

"It's okay, Roan," Eddie says, jaw clenched but not a hint of anger in his voice. "You're alright, bub, you just need to calm down. All this crying is gonna make it worse."

You hum your agreement. "Your dad's right. Let's try to calm down, should we? Is there something we can do to calm down? Maybe we should drink some more of dad's ginger ale, that might be yummy."

"Let me take her," Eddie says. His skin is pale and waxy, sweat shimmering in the light across his brow and top lip.

You nibble your cheek. "Sweetheart," you say, and mean it intensely, "you can go up to bed if you need to."

"I'm fine. Come on, give me back my girl. I'm gonna fix her with a magic spell."

You try to transfer Roan from your lap to his. You've seen Eddie's spells in action, how he whispers words you don't don't know from a game he plays with his friends every other week, or every other other week when life is busy, pressing raspberries into the nape of her neck and tickling her arms. They're a surefire way to cure an owie.

Roan doesn't want a magic spell, she wants medicine. She sobs and turns in your arms, seeking your comfort. She buries her face in the soft fabric of your sleep shirt.

Eddie stands up to help, stricken by her increasing volume, and abruptly has to sit back down.

"Eddie," you say, more severely than you mean to. "Sit down."

"Sitting," he mumbles, dropping his head down between his knees, hands in his hair.

He quickly lifts it with a groan.

"Shit," he says.

You shush Roan gently, lips near her ear. Your hand rubs a steadfast line down the curve of her spine, and when it comes back up you take a deep breath. You don't know if Roan understands what you're doing or if her pain simply starts to lessen, but long, tense minutes unravel into half an hour and she thankfully calms down, dipping into sleep after you dot her damp forehead with kisses.

"Eddie," you say, when you're sure she's knocked out. "Baby, are you okay?"

"I'm sorry," he says, lifting his sweaty face from his hand. He looks heartbreakingly ill.

"That's okay, I don't want any sorrys."

"I didn't mean to make you deal with that alone."

"Well, I wasn't alone," you say. "You're sitting right there."

He presses the backs of his hands to his eye sockets and breathes out hard. You can't reach him with your hands, so you extend your leg until your ankle rubs against his.

"You have a stomach ache?"

"I think I have everything," he says.

You pull Teddy, Roan's one eared teddy bear, off of the seat beside you, and then move the pillows and bowl of food Roan hadn't managed to eat to the other side.

"Come and sit by me," you coax gently.

Eddie looks stiff as a board as he stands and walks to the couch. He sits down slow, leaning back slower. He looks at the ceiling before he turns his neck to face you, one eye screwed shut. You suspect his migraine is pretty much debilitating him at this point.

"Okay?" you murmur.

"I'll live. Hopefully."

He chuckles but stops with another sore wince.

You drop your hand onto his knee. He looks sad. He looks like he's gonna pass out.

"Baby, you gotta tell me how bad you're feeling," you say, nearly singing the words, hoping to inject that little bit of lightness he's missing back onto his pretty lips.

"It's just my head–"

"Thought it was everything?"

"–is gonna explode," he concludes, flopping his face into your arm, one of his hands cupping Roan's back beside yours.

"I'm really sorry, my love," you murmur.

He huffs. He knows, as you know, that you're not sorry in that you think you made him sick. You're sorry that he's sick, sorry he's in any pain at all, sorry that Roan's down for the count as well.

He turns his lips to your shoulder and leaves them there.

"Everything's gonna be fine."

"I know it, sweet thing." His voice sounds like it's made of crushed glass.

When Eddie finally falls asleep, Roan wakes. You're damp everywhere they touch you— they're like two huge hot water bottles. Roan scrunches awake and you're sorry to do it, but you push Eddie away from you and climb out from under his weight, taking his mini me to the kitchen where the strawberry medicine calls her name. You plop her down in her chair with the cushion on the seat and spoon medicine into her mouth. She's too tired to realise she doesn't really like it.

You wet the corner of a hand towel and wipe the sticky dribble off of her chin. You're patting her clammy forehead when she looks up.

"Thanks, mommy," she says.

You frame her face, hand towel pressed to the side of her head.

"You're welcome." You lean forward, tap your nose into hers. "I love you."

You say it stretchy and sweet, like taffy. She lights up at the sound.

"I love you more," she says.

"No way, madam. I love you more than anybody."

"I love you to the moon," she tries.

"To the moon! I love you to the sun, then."

"Is that further away?" she questions.

You stroke her hair back from her face with your free hand, wrists on her shoulders. You do it nicely, fingers tangling in the downy soft strands of her curls, no rush to be anywhere but here.

"It's a million trillion miles away," you guess.

"Woah. That much?"

You nod, head bobbing, "That much and more."

"That's a lot of love," she says. Like a kid standing at the precipice of the world's biggest candy store, staring out at a million different shelves, a rainbow of colour reflected on her feverish cheeks. But she's not in a candy store at all, she's looking at you.

"So much," you say, smiling.

"Mmm… Woah."

"Girls?" comes Eddie's voice, calling from the living room. "Everything cool?"

"Dad!" Roan shouts. "Guess what? Y/N said she loves me to the sun and it is a million'd miles away! That's more than the moon away!"

Eddie groans. "Wait a second, don't be lovely without me. I'm…" His voice drops to a mutter. "I'm a weak man."

You wait but don't hear any footsteps.

"Think we better go kiss him better, Ro," you say.

She goes all shy. "Will you carry me again?"

"Hm, let me think."

You swoop her up into your arms so fast she's immediately hysterical, giggling at the sudden vertigo.

"Girls," Eddie whines. "I can't get up. Stop having fun without me."

"We're on our way with Tylenol!" you call.

"I don't want Tylenol, I want love to the sun, or whatever."

You princess carry Roan into the living room and settle back down in your seat next to Eddie, who, despite desperately needing the Tylenol you've brought with you, takes the kisses you offer first, featherlight kisses, all over his cheek.

"That definitely wasn't enough," he says. He looks at you from between his lashes, slamming them shut again when he notices you watching. "C'mon girls, I'm sick."

"So's Roan and she's not making demands."

"I never said I was a good person, you know? I'm desperate."

You give him one last kiss. He waves his hand and Roan gives him another.

He sighs through a happy, sleepy smile. "Thank you. Now that felt like love to the sun."

—

Bad Cat is a character from Stephen Chbosky's novel Imaginary Friend that I borrowed, he isn’t mine! thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging because it means so much to me <3<3<3<3

#eddie and roan #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie x mom!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic

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grahstumhurts · 11 days ago

Text

I got a Wand and a Rabbit

Sub Daniela Avanzini x Soft Dom Fem!Reader

"I heard you like magic. I've got a wand and a rabbit"

Smut + Fluff

Content - Toy usage, Praise, Dacryphilia(ish)

A/n Sorry to whoever requested this if it wasnt exactly what you wanted. Either way i think it turned out pretty good.

“Are you sure you wanna go in here with me?” Dani asks as you stand outside the sex shop. “You can wait outside if you want?” she offers.

“Yeah, seriously i don't mind” you shrug before walking into the shop first. The shop has a variety of toys,lingerie,lube, and other stuff you might find in a typical sex shop. “Is there something specific you're looking for?” you ask her.

“Mhm, I have some stuff in mind.” She browses the different aisles and shelfs of stuff.

“You seem to know your way around this place” you joke, “Nothing wrong with that, Honey”

“Well before i had you i came here to just check out some stuff for me” She perks up when she spots something called a “Rabbit wand”

“What's that?” you glance over her shoulder, “where do you put that,” you mumble slightly concerned at the toy. “You should buy it dani” you say with a slight jokey tone

“Okay, if you say so, Babe” she puts it in the basket, “we should try it out together.”

“Wait, are you serious?” you blush, “I- i mean we don't have to buy it”

“Should probably buy lube” she mumbles under her breath, glancing around at the different types of lube

“We are not putting that up my butt, Dani. I will kill you if thats going up there. nothing is gonna go in my ass” you whisper shout at her, She laughs at you. “I'm serious, Dani!”

“Lubes not just for your butt, Babe” She giggles “It's just for precaution, Ya know?” She strokes your cheek “It's not that serious, if you're that uncomfortable then why don't I show you how this works first, Hm?” She holds up the box.

“O-okay honey” you timidly agree with her, “Anything else before we go?” She shakes her head

“I think i got what i wanted” She cheekily smiles as you walk up to the register and pay.

–

“What did you guys buy?” Sophia curiously asks as you walk past her, you immediately blush red as Daniela giggles to herself

“Some stuff for the two of us,” She shrugs hoping to deter sophia's prying nature

“Like what?” Sophia tries to peer into the unmarked bag. “Dont worry about it” Dani drags me into our room and pushes you up against the door, dropping the bag in the process of aggressively pressing her lips into yours. Her hands grope your waist bringing you closer, Your hands rest on her cheeks. She pulls away for a moment, “Fuck you dont know how excited i am to try this with you” She bites her lip as she slips off her shirt. You feel your underwear dampen at the sight of her unclothing herself and follow suit.

“Can you show me how to use it on you?” You ask quietly as you unbox the so called “rabbit wand”

“Dont worry baby, ill give you a good show.” She giggles, kissing your cheek and laying on the bed. You sit next to her, a bottle of strawberry lube in one hand and a toy in the other.

“I should put some of it on here right?” You gesture to the lube and she nods, You squirt some on your hand and then rub it onto the phallic object. “Good?”

“That should be enough” She slips a hand down to her cunt, already dripping, teasing herself with her slender fingers. You stare in awe at the way her fingers work her folds. She pulls her fingers out, putting them close to your lips. Allowing them to pass into your mouth, you taste her juices on her digits, slightly sweet and salty. “Good girl, yn” She smirks at the sight of you sucking her fingers. “Go on, put it in me, baby” she gestures to the wand. You slowly push it into her cunt, the top part of the rabbit wand teasing her clit, You grab the remote to control the vibrations of the toy.

“Lets start low?” she nods, you turn it to level one and hear her gasp slightly at the sudden sensations. “Feel okay?” You hold her hand as you turn it to a level three. Daniela squirms as the toy vibrates inside her, part of it grazing against her clit.

“F-fuck, Feels so good baby” She moans out, gripping your hand tightly as her other hand overs her eyes. Her toes curl as you turn it to a level four, “shit, s’too much baby.” Her eyes well up with tears, her mascara running slightly.

“You can take it baby. Let me see your pretty face baby.” You move her hand off her face, Her eyes glossy and face damp with salty tears. Her small whimper grew louder, “Quiet, Dani. You don't want the others to hear right?” She nods whimpering, Lips clamped shut tightly. You rub her hand as she writhes under you, Turning the wand up to the maximum.

“Fuck m’so close” She moans out. Tears running down her face, ruined mascara dripping.

“Cum for me, Dani” You kiss her lips softly as she rides out her climax, turning off the rabbit wand and slowly pulling it out. “You okay Dani?” You mumble against her lips, she responds with a tired smile. “I'm good,” She props herself up on her elbows and pushes her lips against yours softly. Tasting her berry lip balm and lemonade from earlier, Feeling her hand interlocked with yours and the other holding your chin. “You're too sweet to me, Yn. I know just how to reward you.” She slips down onto her already shaky knees and sits between your thighs.

#katseye x reader #katseye imagines #katseye fluff #katseye smut #katseye #katseye daniela x reader smut #katseye daniela x reader #daniela avanzini x reader #katseye daniela avanzini x reader #grahstumhurts #Spotify

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reveluving · 9 months ago

Note

I have another ideaaaa 👀 I imagine Santi and Benny being very flamboyant when it comes to showing their admiration for someone. Imagine Rick bringing lunch to reader’s unexpectedly just to see Santi bringing her flowers and Benny giving her the heart eyes. My poor flag baby might have a stroke just from the scene in front of hiiimmm!!

a/n: Aria, baby. it’s been a long ass time ✋🏼😔 BUT THE FIXATION IS BACK (kinda. largely because I’ve been reading fics after fics of Oscar & Pedro chars. RAAAAAH). so we’re here baby, after 1 ½? 2 years later???? ENJOY

warnings: humour & fluff; poor Rick just wants to love you in peace.

j.k. m.list (series under 'rick flag vs the triple frontier boys'), or check out my full m.list!

Oh, you know Rick’s eyes are TWITCHING. The paper bag in his hand, packed with lunch from your favourite stop, crumpling in his grasp, almost tearing at the top. Not the food though, he’s not trying to ruin his wife’s favourite.

But he’s chill. Absolutely chill. He swears.

Benny and Santi just had to stop by the same time he came home from work, both leaning against the white porch railing while you sat prettily on the bench.

Benny was expressive in whatever he was talking about, likely his last boxing match from the way he was holding the air in a headlock before the three of you shared a laugh. As much of a troublemaker they were, they were your friends, after all. He’d chase them off his property or warn them with a glare any day if it meant cutting off any form of ‘allegiances’ with that horrible past, both yours and his.

Just when you were about to reply to God knows what they asked, you noticed Rick lingering by the mailbox. Your eyes lit up, and it didn’t take the duo any other hints to know that he was home.

“Rick!” You enthusiastically waved at your husband, beckoning him to sit on the bench next to you. Rick couldn’t help but smile back at you, walking over and ignoring the two until he reached the top step of the stairs.

“Boys.” He greeted them, going over to shake Santiago’s hand before Benny’s, flexing his hands as they shook to see if the other would break. None did, as usual, pulling away and somewhat putting the tension on hold in favour of you. Rick took a seat next to you, passing you the bag of food and a soft ‘there y’go, baby’ (but not really, he made sure the two would hear it).

It took a few seconds, making sure he greeted you with a kiss before stretching his arm to lay on the backrest behind you.

“So, what’s the occasion?”

“The boys just came over to say hi. Gave me these flowers from the flower shop nearby,” You raised the calla lilies that were resting on your lap. Now, Rick was no flower specialist, but he has been to the shop countless times to buy you your own fix.

And if he remembered correctly, they generally represented beauty.

Well played.

“And Santi was just telling me about this new Cuban restaurant just outside the neighbourhood.” You continued, turning to Santiago with an encouraging smile so he could tell Rick about it.

“Cuban restaurant, huh?”

Santiago curtly nodded to his curiosity.

“The best. Might even be your new favourite once you both try it.” He explained, only to glance at the paper bag Rick was holding—a look that was almost… Judgemental? Critical? All of the above? All Rick knew that the man before him was silently scoffing at his choice.

And, well, Santi wouldn’t exactly deny that claim, either.

Rick didn’t hide the scoff, only to pair it with a faux smile so you could take it as nothing more than a harmless banter, “Gotta be real good then. ‘Cause this here,” He cocked his head in the paper bag’s direction, “Is my wife’s favourite place. Our favourite place.”

Rick not only had to watch out for the bold claim Santi was making, but he also had to bear in mind the sight of Benny openly looking at you like a lovestruck puppy. The promising boxer didn’t even care about the passive-aggressive argument going on around him. He was just appreciating the beaut in front of him.

(Man’s just doesn’t give a shit atm).

“Hey, I’m not here to burst your bubble,” Santi huffed in amusement, raising his hands in a defensive way, “But I’m not trying to give the pretty girl any mediocre recommendations either. C’mon Flag, you, of all people, should know that we want the best for her.”

“Aw, Santi, you’re too kind.” You were touched and it showed, and Rick couldn’t argue with the statement. Without a doubt, he wants what was best for you, be it food, comfortable clothes, gourmet treats for the fucking neighbourhood cat you adore—anything.

In the midst of their silent argument, you reached for Rick’s hand, holding his larger ones in between yours, “I’m sure Rick and I will enjoy it,” He mirrored the warm smile as you stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, only to break when you addressed the two, “And if it’s as good as you said it is, we might as well have a get together.”

Oh.

You were growing concerned of the two’s silence, eyes darting back and forth and almost—almost asking what was wrong until Benny, as if snapped out of his trance, finally, spoke up.

“Absolutely.” Benny raised his hand in a manner that a believer would in church.

Abso-fucking-lutely.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics ♡

148 notes · View notes

wizardrousactivity · 10 months ago

Text

Feel better now?

Warnings: Angst, mating press, mentions of self-harm, mentions of relapsing, Fem!reader

Pairings: König x fem!Reader

Note: I am not very proud of this one because of my STUPID WRITING!!! but I did end up spending 2-3 hours on this so I’m hoping some people would enjoy it. Mwah love you all 2.3k words!

König felt his chest shrivel up once he saw your pouty lips and half-teary eyes, watching you storm out of the room while he was stumped.

Thinking of ways to apologize to his sweet girl flooded his noggin and he threw his hands out and fell back into his chair almost comically, grumbling and getting back to his paperwork while he tried to push away any other thoughts besides the box of his work. You shoved yourself into the bathroom, rubbing your hands all over your face to try to stop the tears that were making your face feel icky. Thrashing around to find your towel, the water running loudly in the background - the sounds couldn’t compare to how loud your thoughts were.

The shower felt harder that day, the water burning the red lines you inflicted on yourself yesterday.

You sat down on the wet floor, head in your palms as you sobbed, the tears falling from your face entwined with the water and vanished along with it. On your knees you grabbed the shampoo - cleaning yourself should never feel this difficult, you’ve grown soft.

Standing up, your body immediately planting itself onto the wall as your knees buckled. Nibbled lips, fingers clasped your mouth. Trying to suppress your gasps and whines. —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’ve managed to do your hair and apply lotion to your body, since you’ve fixed yourself - you find that you’re capable enough to make dinner, putting on clothes you just washed, they’re warm and make you feel a bit better. The harm is visible, and you try to forget about it. Too drained to change into other clothes that hide your pink and white scars, busy prodding at your pajama shorts to make them just a little longer, even if it wont make a difference.

Leaving the bathroom you walk into the hallway hoping to see König doing paperwork in his office, or holding out his arms for you. Instead what's in front of you is a closed door, making the air catch in your throat.

The descend down the stairs feels melancholy, you feel as if your brain is off, walking only as if you’re a zombie dedicated to pleasing others. You want to make him happy, make him forget about your previous interaction with the blessing of food.

This week felt like the final straw, constantly trying to please people at your job - you’ve been trying so hard. Nobody was there for you, König looked at you with a face of anger, eyes narrowing yours. Going on about how he has helped you while you try to squeak out your words, and he yelled at you. Piercing and loud, making you tremble as you looked up at him like he had betrayed you. He screamed at himself in his head, scolding himself for lashing out on you. Years of aggression had changed him truly, down to his entire system - he doesn’t know how to respond now.

As soon as your hands touch the stove, you begin shaking, tears running down your face. You couldn’t find the energy in yourself to cook and it made you feel all the more disappointed in yourself, the walls of discipline you’ve built come crashing down.

Nails snuggled firmly into your arms as you sink down onto the floor, hyperventilating in frustration.

You cry into your skin for the umpteenth time, biting into your flesh so the man upstairs doesn’t hear you. Nothing has ever made you feel so useless, and you can't get over that.

A heavy hand on your shoulder makes you jump, interrupting your thoughts. You turn your back slowly, only to see the kindest pair of sleepy eyes looking back at your manic ones. Your eyelids shut tight, hands finding his shirt and pulling him in. “M’ so sorry..” It’s muffled into his shoulder and he pats your back, hands resting at your hips. He shushes you gently, eyes scanning over the numerous scars on your legs that looked almost too fresh - and he swore his heart paused for a second. König punches himself in the head mentally once again, biting his lip. “Not your fault..I shouldn’t have yelled. Shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

Your face digs itself into the small dip between his neck and shoulder, sobbing even harder - gasping for air between them. And he feels like a monster at this point.. “I’m sorry, mein Liebling, don’t waste all your tears on me.” König brings you in even closer, landing sloppy kisses to your forehead and cheeks. "I was wrong, never cry for me like that." He says, reassuring you in a stronger voice, yet it remains soft. König mumbles something under his breath, like he cursed himself forever, never to let you cry over something he failed to do - control his emotions around you.

You grab onto his jaw with need, locking lips with him in vast movements, and he lets it happen. Letting your tongue win the fight for dominance, hand gently resting at the back of your skull, the salty tang of your lips stimulating his organ of taste. But he couldn't care less.

Hums vibrate into your mouth pleasantly, he taps your back to let you know when he needs to breathe.

The kiss is broken after only his lungs start to burn for air, you’re still hungry for more of it. His breathing is heavy as he claws at the soft skin under your shirt, massaging your lower back and pulling you even closer to his warmth, pleasantly surprised at your actions. “Need more-” You hiccupped, mouth-agape with feeble sounds. “Please.”

“More of what? Tell me.”

“Want more of you- Need you.” You confess, and his heart cinches from its beat. Almost seizes to continue at the sight.

He simply nods, picking you up by your waist and putting you up against him - not where you're flat against his chest, holstered up enough so he can kiss your tummy, electrifying butterflies filling your abdomen. König plops you down on the bed, as gentle as he can possibly be - you look like glass to him right now as your legs hang off the side of the bed, you're sitting on the edge of it as he lowers himself.

He’s right in front of you, crouched. He’s kissing your thighs all over, strings of apologies you can’t hear when he runs along one of your scars. “Can I please.. I want to show you how sorry I am.” You know what he’s implying when his eyes drift down to your pussy, clothed but getting absolutely drenched underneath.

“Yes.. please.” A simple sniffle and he’s making snail work of your shorts with little kisses, pulling them off along with your panties. He’s purposely taking it slow with you, testing the waters.

Successfully spreading your thighs, he salivates. One look at your perfekt swollen clit and he’s down on his knees, offering one long lick to the slick heavenly gates. “So good.” He groans, now flicking your bead with his tongue in vast motions - and you mewl out, high pitched and needy. He’s so good at eating your pussy, wrapping his lips around the whole thing once he made you sensitive for it. “König..” A pule of his name leaves your lips, sending blood straight to his cock once again.

You gasp once you realize he’s rolling your hips onto his tongue, making you fuck yourself on his tongue with his hands. “Holy fuck-” Your toes curl, biting your bottom lip. The changes between flicking his tongue and sucking all feed into your upbuilding orgasm.

“König!” He stops abruptly at the last squeal of his name, right at the moment you felt yourself coming undone.

Standing at his full height you pout up at him. “I’m sorry- please, can’t let you cum yet. Need to show you.” He repeats, almost defeatedly, like he wants to fulfill your needs now.

König pulls down his pajama pants down to his ankles, before he positions himself in front of spread legs. Rubbing his tip against your clit, prodding against it deliberately. Making you sob, kick your feet against his back needily. “Uhuh. None of that, you’ll get what you want in a second.” Gentle, affirming.

“Gonna slip this in, slowly. You got that?” He affirms with you, and you're nodding your head urgently. It makes him chuckle, how pliant and needy you are.

You throw your head back once you feel his stretch, a wince passing through your lips. "Er nimmt es so gut auf.." He praises with a moan, a hand gently caressing your collarbone from where he stands.

He’s trying to distract you from the feel of his cock spreading you open, you’ve tightened up so much since the last time.

He finally gets the whole meat slab in with a plap, and you let out a sigh of relief. He finds it really cute, how you struggle beneath it. “You’ve got it.. Good girl, the best.” He dances his hips into yours, balls flat against your ass. “Made for my cock.” “So deep..” Your thighs tighten around him, begging him to start a pace already - the torture of slow, deep thrusts. “Hah- fuck.. Too slow Köni..” Ugh, you’re so fucking cute. Stop it. It’s taking enough of his willpower to not fuck you right into this bed.

“H-Harder..” König chuckles, grinning at how feverish you are. “Dirty girl.” Your knees are then pressed next to your ears, he’s putting you in some sort of mating press - making you swallow in anticipation, a little fear maybe. This position makes him feel deeper than ever, you’re clenching around him.

He swallows. “This is what you want? You can take it?” He doesn’t relent his rolls into you, like this is a casual interaction. “Yes- fuck- Please!” You beg and he immediately complies, making you jump up with every thrust of him into you, heavy balls slapping right against you. “You like this?” He doesn’t even need to have you answer, your mewls are speaking for you.

As soon as he gets you where he wants, a hard thrust is battered into you - making you cry out at the sheer force of it. He’s not cruel though, bending down so you could hold onto his shoulders. He gulps, adams apple bobbing. “This is what you wanted? Tell me, please.” He needs to get confirmation from you, eyes scanning over your face for any signs of discomfort. “Keep going.” You take his breath away, good girl. Taking all of this cock.

He bites his lip, denting your can roughly - the smacking of your skin is loud and sinful. His hands lay planted on your ankles, driving into you like a two dollar whore.

Broken moans escape your mouth as you constantly feel his dick ram against your cervix. ”Gonna show you how sorry I am.” Your body tensed up as you felt your orgasm approaching humiliatingly quick. Your legs tried to kick at something, but that's impossible with them suspended in the air, unable to move.

He just wont stop thrusting either, watching you try to form a sentence underneath him.

Waves of pleasure incinerate through your body, burning your insides with ecstasy and heat. The constant sliding of his shaft against your walls doesn't help it either, he's changed the angle which his dick hits to where its constantly drubbing your g-spot.

"Good- good pussy. I'm' hitting that pillowy spot." He laughs, orgasmic yet a little bit deranged in the middle of sex.

You gasp out, feeling a string in your stomach get unbearably thin. Your pussy clenches, it’s slightly nauseating from how tightly you’ve clamped. He moans, back arching from the feel of you squeezing him dangerously tight. “Fuck yeah, cum for me. Cum for me.. Ja..!” His head is thrown back, lost in just you completely.

The coil finally snaps and you squeal, your juices coming out squelching and running down your ass. You’re drooling, lips coated in saliva. And he just wants to clean up all of that with his kisses, connect your saliva together.

"Ah! König!" You yelp, vision turning white as overwhelming waves of bliss start hitting you like a truck.

Your toes uncurled once you’ve gotten off your high, signs of it still lingering around in your stomach - feels like your pussy is beating as fast and hard as your heart.

But you can’t forget, he’s looking for his release as well. Mouth open and panting above you like a mutt. His moans announce his upcoming orgasm while rutting into your sensitive pussy like a bitch in heat. Your hand comes up to his chest to try and get his pace to relent - but it’s not possible to push past a brick wall. You’ve already started sobbing at this point from the overstimulation, mewls for König to be gentler goes in from one ear out from the other. Or if he can even hear you.

With the clenching of your snatch he's throwing his head back with a broken moan. "Hng-auh..! It's been so long since he's had good pussy like yours, and you best believe he's enjoying himself.

A rumbling deep inside of him, lingers of an upcoming orgasm taking over his well-mannered self. Now his hands have moved up to your ankles, putting himself in a plank and pounding so hard you think you'd die.

König's trying to match your moans like an orchestral performance, seemingly like he's mocking you, yet it's full of honesty and neediness. "Close hmng- yes.. fuck m-" He announces before cutting himself off unplanned, spurting into your storage room with his buttocks clenched forwards to push semen further into you.

The mongrel of the house squeezing your ankles with a sob once he feels his high hit him like it did yours, keeping his shaft nestled in you while he finds himself in ecstasy - unknowing of your suffering from overstimulation beneath him. Beaten and battered pussy.

He doesn’t notice your trembling body underneath him till he hears you let out a feeble sound of his name. Looking down to your shaking legs, thighs covered in your splattered juices. And by god, are you a sight.

“No more..” You mumbled, unable to coherently speak to him anymore. He pulls out of you, a small squelch being heard from how good he's spread you out. "Ja, won't fuck you anymore." He gravely snickered, letting your legs down from the sore position they were in.

König practically purrs out his praises, running his hands up and down your body. “Let’s get you to the bathroom now, a bath?” He suggests, your ears perk up at the sound of a warm bath surrounding your achy body.

Bonus ;)

243 notes · View notes

thekidsralright · 1 year ago

Text

a love worth fighting for.

pairing: abby anderson x f!reader

synopsis: anderson is the name on everybody's lips when it comes to discussing the newest up-and-coming boxers of the season. with the help of her coach and you by her side, she's going for the world title. but what will she have to sacrifice to get there?

an: so, it's finally here. this is a big one for me folks - i'd go as far as to say the biggest fic i've ever worked on. ever. i'd love for this to be multi chapter, but that depends on the reception part 1 receives. if you like it, please reblog and let me know your thoughts. i'm proud of this, so be kind with your comments x

warnings: 18+ mdni. violence, swearing, references to smut (despite this chap not having any super explicit content, if i decide to continue this fic there will defo be heavy smut in the next upload - so don't even bother reading the first part if you're not of age).

The MC’s voice reverberates throughout the stadium, drowning out the cacophony of cheers, boos, and overarching buzz from the crowd. You could never predict who they would back until the night, usually finding that boxing fans are easily swayed depending on who gets the first punch in. You were hoping all support would be directed at her tonight, god she needed it. Trying to maintain a positive attitude is hard when your girlfriend's opponent is making his way into the ring, his impressive height and wide, muscular shoulders towering leagues above his teams; arms raised, working the crowd and hyping them up in anticipation for the fight to come. They’re already eating out of his hands, the bastards.

“Ladieeees and Gentlemaaan! Welcome to the main event. In the blue corner, weighing in at 188 pounds, undefeated in 48 fights; he needs no introduction folks - it’s the man, the beast, Zach ‘Thunderstorm’ Norriiiiiis!”

The crowd roars in excitement, slapping their hands together and pumping their fists in the air. Zach is one of the nation's favourites, as any undefeated boxer would be. The nickname ‘Thunderstorm’ came from the sound his opponent’s bodies would make when they hit the canvas, like the crack of lightning. You look ahead with a neutral expression, keeping your eyes focused on the empty archway ahead of you - trying not to zero in on just how big his arms were. How they could crush someone's airways, smash apart their ribs, do irreplaceable damage.

You inherently hated what your girl did as a profession, hated the way she put herself in harm's way time after time after time. But there was also a part of you that admired her for it, for the unbreakable determination that radiated from her - if she got beaten down, she would get right back up and come at you even harder. It’s what kept forcing you to show up. That, and also the tiny factor of being absolutely in love with the woman. But when she got hurt, which seemed to be every other day lately, you really wanted to grab a hold of her fucking head and shake the-

“Aaaaand coming into the red corner, Thunderstorm’s opponent, weighing in at 175 pounds. She hails from Salt Lake City, and is rising through the ranks quickly. With 30 wins, 24 of them coming by way of knockout, give it up for the new kid on the block - it’s Abbyyyyyy Andersooooon!”

And here she comes, bowling out of that archway with Coach right on her tails; the hood of her red robe covering her plaited hair, matching red gloves already fastened and ready. Even from where you were waiting by the stalls, you could see the all-too-familiar expression that befalls her face before every fight. Eyes so dark they look black, focused, unwavering; brimming with unshed aggression that are preparing for the violence that is about to ensue.

Frightening. Arousing. Another reason you’re still with her.

Abby ducks under the ropes of the ring, bouncing on her feet as she grounds herself on the canvas before moving over to her corner where Coach is now waiting. As you rush up to them, Coach gives you the look he always does before a fight - the type that screams, ‘you shouldn’t be here, girl.’ He thinks you’re a distraction, an irritating fly he’d rather swat away so he can make sure his prized money maker has the best chance at winning. You weren’t giving in that easily. Coach could go to hell for all you cared; you knew his real motivations when it came to all of this. Abby may regard him like a father, but you saw him for what he really was. A leech.

Coach shouts up into Abby’s ear, her head bent in concentration - “He’s a fucking showman. That, and a bit of muscle. You know you got the upper hand tactically; he has no fucking clue what’s about to hit him. Just stay focused Anderson, and this bout is yours.”

Abby nods resolutely, eyes trained on the canvas as she rolls her shoulders back and cracks her neck. Coach’s hands come up to grip the ropes between them.

“You gotta win this champ, you can win this. Just don’t. get. distracted.”

Both Coach’s and Abby’s eyes turn to you at the same time as you offer up a reassuring smile to your girlfriend, also now clutching at the ropes that separate you.

“You got this babe.”

She nods quickly and gives a tight smile, but you can tell from the tense line of her shoulders that she’s stressing out. Yes she’s fought before, but it was never on this big of a scale. Never against opponents like him. It was what Coach insisted was the next step –

“You wanna face off a load of wimps Anderson? Or do you wanna make it to champion status?... Yeah? Of course you fucking do. Then you gotta get in front of the crowds and beat the shit out of the favourites.”

Easy for him to say, he’s not the one going up against an undefeated fighter. But you had faith in your girl. That was never going to change. You move closer to the ring as she crouches down into the corner, Coach double checking he has all the supplies that she would need between rounds. You take her face in your hands through the division of the ropes and pull her in for a quick kiss - before she can move away, you hold her there and take her chin in your grip, eyes lingering on hers.

“Win this…like I know you can, and then come home and fuck me like a champion.”

You don’t give her time to respond as you let her face go and back away, moving into the crowd as you cheer her name. That posture of stress has eased slightly, and a smug smile is planted on her face instead. Coach, of course, comes and wipes that smirk away as he puts her mouthguard in, holding her head still as he most likely shouts some type of bull at her once again. But of course, she’s listening to him like it’s gospel. Amped up and ready to fight, Abby raises herself to full height, bouncing on her feet and swinging her arms to the side. The crowd aren’t sure what to make of her, most of them never even hearing her name before. But there is the occasional cheer for “Anderson!” amongst the rally of support for Norris. After all, people do love an underdog.

The announcer calls Abby and Norris into the middle of the ring, a hand on both of their chests as he explains, “Now I want a nice, clean game. Nothing below the belt. Are we clear?”

Both nod, pressing against the MC’s outstretched hands in an act of intimidation towards the other. Abby’s face is like stone, never breaking eye contact and standing strong. Norris on the other hand, his smirk was the show of pure arrogance. She better fuck this dickhead up. Both back away from each other, getting into a southpaw stance as the MC’s voice rings out for the last time.

“Are we readyyyyy…FIGHT!”

You forget about everything else when that bell rings; the crowd getting louder, Coach’s bellows erupting from her corner, the look on Norris’ face as he circles his prey. The toll of that bell ringing in your ears sounds like a death sentence, also signalling the start of round 1.

____________

By round 4, the feeling of uneasiness settles in your stomach and your eyes continue to follow her quick-shifting form, matching her movements so that when she ducked or flinched back, so did you. Both fighters have been pretty level with one another so far, both sending out jabs and uppercuts - only for them to be warded off before any real damage could be inflicted. It’s not enough to win though, she needs a clear hit.

Abby goes in for a right hook, ever so slightly clipping Norris’ chin and the crowd ripples in response, hoping for the real fight to begin soon. Norris responds with a clinch to stop her from advancing too quickly, wrapping his arms around and over her. You hated seeing him touch her like that, your own fists clenching at your sides in response.

The bell tolls again signalling the end of the round, both fighters making their way to their respective posts - but not before you see Norris saying something in Abby’s ear. She doesn’t move for a second, eyes unwavering on Norris as he turns his back. For a second you think she might go for him, but she’s worked too hard to let her temper win now. With a shake of her head, she goes over to Coach and plunks down on the ground - tearing off her gloves with her teeth and ripping out her mouthpiece. Her focus is still sharply on Norris across the ring, most likely getting strategy tips and a pep talk in her ear from Coach, reminding her to channel all that anger back into the task at hand.

You don’t move from your seat in the crowd, wanting to give her the space to fully zone in. She knows you’re here for her and only her, and you provided enough motivation at the beginning of the night to last the duration. You'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the view at the moment either, and that those feelings of uneasiness were also coupled with an overwhelming tide of arousal.

The way sweat is dripping down her face and neck, trickling down her chest and onto her arms. How she runs her hands over the top of her head, dousing it in water and brushing through the roots with her fingers to cool off. Yeah… you really hoped she did win tonight, not just because she deserves it from how hard she’s been training, but selfishly a part of you really wants to get fucked good tonight. Especially after the show she’s putting on for you right now. And you know for a fact it’s only for you.

Abby’s let you know multiple times how much she loves you watching her fight, seeing her crush opponents to a pulp and looking absolutely glorious doing so. It’s upsetting that tonight, she isn’t doing so well. But this is what she and Coach wanted, to start moving up the leagues and facing off against better fighters - solidifying her name among the real competition. You try to stop the negative thoughts from creeping in, try to stay positive for your girl.

The rounds keep stacking up, neither Abby or Norris winning the upper hand for long. It’s evident that both fighters are getting aggravated by round 9, their punches falling on the side of reckless, their expressions displeased and downright pissed. You shout as loud as you can, “Come on baby, you can do this!” in the hopes that Abby can hear you over everyone else. And she must have done, as her head slightly turns in your direction on instinct, and Norris’ gloved fist takes the opportunity to make contact with the side of her face in response.

The crowd screams with excitement, satisfied with the fact that something is finally happening. But all you see is red as the blood sprays from Abby’s mouth on impact, her body crashing into the ropes that barely keep her form upright. You take a step forward as does Coach, you both now waiting for the bell to ring so you can meet her at the post. 12 seconds.

Come on, just stay out of his way for a bit longer…avoid the fucker for 12 seconds!

Abby’s so stunned from that first punch that as she tries to right herself on the canvas and pick up her stance, Norris is already waiting with another blow to the face - this time an uppercut that sends her head flying back and her legs out from under her.

No no no no, NO!

5 seconds.

You’re screaming for her to get up as the crowd counts how long she’s been down.

1…2…3-

“Stand up! Abby stand the FUCK UP!”

A wave of an arm and a twitch of a leg has you screaming in relief, as Abby slowly gets back on her feet before a KO can be declared, just as the bell signals the end of the round.

Abby all but bolts for her corner, leaning her body and head back against the post - her eyes shut from exhaustion and pain. Coach partially moves out of the way for the cutman, who is trying to clean the blood from her face as best they can - the enswell pressing against the areas where Norris’ punches made impact.

You can see she’s starting to give up, that undeniable fire in her eyes has dulled to a mere glow. You can’t stand it. You try to move your head further into her corner to say “Baby, you can do this, you just gotta-”

Before you can finish, Coach has climbed through the ropes so he’s kneeling directly in front of Abby’s hunched figure, grabbing the back of her head so their foreheads are nearly touching.

“You listen to me Anderson. You’re jumping about this ring like a fuckin’ monkey on steroids. Calm the fuck down, focus in on the technique we’ve been working on for months and stop…getting…distracted.”

At this, both heads turn in your direction. Abby’s expression shows you she isn’t angry about being distracted from your support; she knew you were coming from a good place. Coach on the other hand is looking at you like you went up there and hit her yourself. He never liked when you were around, always insisting that partners were just unwanted emotional baggage that could wait until after the last punch was thrown. But Abby refuses to get in the ring if you aren’t watching from the sidelines.

“Not going out there without my girl, Coach - she’s my lucky charm.”

“Well your lucky charm has been making you late to training. Gotta get your head back to the task at hand. You can play housewives later.”

But tonight isn’t the night to bicker with Coach about things that won’t change. You will both always be here for Abby, and right now she needs you. You hold her gaze, giving a smile and a wink - “Are you seriously giving up this easy? You and me both know you’ve got it in you to bring this piece of shit down. Come on Abs…fucking finish it.”

Coach is clapping her shoulders in agreement, lifting Abby up so she can shake out the stiffness and get ready for the next round. What you hope to be the last round. You take your position back up in the crowd, and get ready to cheer for your, and her, life. The bell rings out.

Round 10.

____________

She makes every punch count, unleashing herself at Norris like a fucking beast. He doesn't know how to respond to it at first, taken aback at how quickly Abby has switched up her fighting style. The renewed vigour in her movements only enrages Norris even further, the confidence that this fight was his now starting to crack under the weight of Abby’s rage.

He still manages to land some blows, but it’s almost as if she’s stopped feeling them - blinded by the sheer animalistic instinct to push through and keep punching. A flurry of blows to Norris’ face causes him to hunch down and over for relief, but what he doesn't realise is that he’s just given her the perfect head shot from above.

The blow comes fast, and hard. You wince as her gloved fist makes impact with the back of his bent head, forcing his body further beneath her.

Norris goes down, face first into the canvas at Abby’s feet.

Knockout.

The volume of the crowd increases, if that’s even possible, counting along with the MC to ten to see if Norris has it in him to keep going. You’ve never been more relieved when he doesn't move a muscle.

8…9…10! KNOCKOUT!

You’re screaming, jumping with your arms in the air like a crazy person. She won. Abby won. The MC brings her to the centre of the ring, raising her arm with his to signal her victory. She’s shouting too, showing her black mouthguard mixed with the sight of fresh blood, unable to stand still as she takes a victor’s lap, celebrating her win.

Coach rushes up, gripping her in a bear tackle whilst you look on from the sidelines - still trying to come to terms with what you’ve just witnessed. She won. Against ‘Thunderstorm.’ This is what she’s been working towards for months, hoping for the chance to make her name known among the big leagues. Your girlfriend just put herself on the map, and it wasn’t about to go unnoticed…

____________

It takes a while for you all to make your way out of the stadium, fans constantly asking for autographs and pictures with the underdog-turned-champion of the night. It was nice to see. Finally, Abby was getting the recognition she deserves. Coach was eating that shit up, as expected, spreading the word to anyone that listened that we had a new heavyweight world champion in the making. Abby would get that glint in her eye at every mention of the ultimate title: world champion.

Her head might as well be made of glass, because you can see exactly what’s happening up in that brain of hers as she processes the weight of what’s happened tonight. She can see the prize that has never been in reach now that little bit closer. And she wants it. Bad. You go to remind her to take it one step at a time, but you know it would be received the wrong way.

A number of journalists and presenters were waiting by the entrance of the stadium as you emerged into the cold night. They rush you as soon as they spot Abby. You weren’t expecting so many people to come at you with cameras and microphones, reaching around, past, through you to get to her. A flurry of voices swarm the now enclosed space.

“Anderson, how do you feel after tonight’s knockout performance?”

“Who’s next on your kill list?”

“Are you staking your claim on the heavyweight belt?”

“How will you be celebrating tonight, Abby?”

Overwhelmed, you take a step back so Abby is ahead of you - Coach now placing his arm around her shoulders to also lean into the microphones held up against Abby’s mouth.

“The next fight is coming sooner than you think. Anderson is ready to take on any of these amateurs and claim the title that is rightfully hers.”

The interviewers all look to Abby expectantly, hoping she seconds the statements made. Of course she does. It’s Abby.

“I’m ready for the next fight. This is what I’ve been training for and I'm not going to slow down now. Put any fighter in front of me and I’ll deal a knockout to whoever wants one.”

You hear this and let out a long breath. This was the flaw that irked you most about Abby. She never knows when to take a break - to step back and appreciate how much she’s already achieved. Once she gets something, it’s on to the next. You just worry that she’s going to burn herself out.

As expected, her comment only invited them to ask more, now wanting to hear the name of the next person she wants to challenge and when that would be. Coach begins to move you all forward again, giving that cheshire smile he’s perfected and a sly “you’ll have to wait and see” - most likely aiming to leave some suspense in the air so more articles are printed tomorrow.

All three of you go to move through the reporters, making your way to a black SUV waiting just ahead. From where you took a step back, the crowd sees an opening and begins to slot themselves in between you and Abby, hot on her heels with more burning questions. When she turns her head to answer them, that signature smirk on her face is quickly replaced with alarm, then stone cold anger.

One reporter is physically elbowing you out of the way to get a better angle for his picture, the flash blinding you for a second, causing your head to snap the opposite direction.

You hear her voice ring out over everyone.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend and back away. Now.”

She pushes through until she’s in front of elbow-camera guy, who is currently regretting his choices now Abby is towering over him, his mouth slightly open with a mixture of awe and fear.

“Do you think it’s ok to treat a woman like that? Do you think you can push my woman out of the way and expect me to pose for a photo?”

He’s frozen to the spot, and Abby only raises her eyebrows in response. Taking your hand and pulling you to her side, she turns you both around after muttering “watch yourself” to the wimp you leave behind.

“Sorry baby” she whispers in your ear, thumb brushing down the side of your arm. Placing a hand on the small of your back, she leads you both through to the SUV and watches you get into the car before joining you. The voices now muffled; you finally release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in since the start of the night. She was fine. She’s safe. Everything’s ok again.

Now you finally have a chance to talk just the two of you - well, you and Abby and Coach - you want to make sure she isn’t serious about jumping straight into another fight. But when she turns to you, her eyes alight with pure happiness that you haven't seen in a long time, you decide to have that talk in the morning.

You have a champion to take home…

____________

The minute you get through the front door of your apartment, you’re leading her to the bathroom to get cleaned up. She’s got that dazed look in her eyes of someone in a dream. Only this dream is real, and you couldn't be happier for her. But God, does she look rough. Hot, always, but rough.

“Did you see how fast he went down when I threw that last punch, bubs? I felt like my chest was going to explode during those 10 seconds, it felt like a lifetime to wait. I need to start thinking about my next move with Coach and strategizing ‘cos I could never use exactly the same technique, these fighters are way smarter than any of those fuckin’ rookies I’ve fought before and-”

“Woah, Abs slow down.” You give a slight chuckle as she realises her rambling, holding her hands up in defeat - allowing you to lightly push at her shoulders so she can sit on the toilet. You grab the first aid bag in the cabinet, packed with the essentials that have come in handy many times through the years. The cutman at every fight has of course offered to clean Abby up, but you always took it upon yourself to take care of her wounds at the end of the night. You both liked it that way. You were gentler, caring.

Getting down on your knees in front of her, you get to work wiping the dried blood from her face, placing cold packs and plasters over her swollen cheek and jaw. She sits there in silence, patiently watching you do it all - her hands trailing over your face, neck, arms.

“ ‘m sorry for not noticing you got left behind…don’t want you to think I forgot about you or anything. I just get carried away with it all, ya know?” she mutters, cutting through the silence - cupping the side of your face with her hand as her fingers begin to brush through your hair. You close your eyes as you revel in the feel of it, nuzzling into her palm to give it a kiss.

“It wasn’t your fault, bubs. Besides, you came to my rescue in the end…like always” - you give another kiss to her open palm, reaching up to take her hand in both of yours so you can kiss her sore knuckles.

“Besides, it was kinda worth getting pushed just so I could see you make that guy absolutely shit himself.” You both burst out laughing, leaning in close to one another as if you were best friends sharing a secret. This was the Abby that only you saw. The one who didn’t have the weight of the world on her shoulders, who could just be and not think about the next move.

You whisper, “I’m so proud of you,” and she almost begins glowing with pleasure from your praise.

Abby pulls you in by your face, hands back to cupping either side, eyes turning mischievous.

“I nearly forgot…I have one more thing I need to do tonight.”

You grin up at her, “oh yeah? And what’s that?”

She leans in further, her mouth stopping to hover just next to your ear, whispering “I need to fuck you like a champion.”

Her hand comes down to cup you through your jeans, squeezing ever so slightly. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been waiting for this ever since they declared KO, getting wetter by the minute just thinking about the moment when she fucks you good and proper.

“Come on baby…time for round 1.”

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson fic #abby tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou2 #i love abby anderson #tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x you

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scarnatlover · 1 year ago

Text

The sweetest demigod

Summary: after coming back from a mission, Natasha is desperate of some touches from her girlfriend

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Demigod!Reader

Warnings: smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), cunniliingus, fingering, dirty talking (sort of), praise kink (sort of), pet names, mention of SH (briefly), scars.

If i missed any, let me know!

A/N: I'm sorry if anything is spelled incorrectly, but English is not my first language. I apologize in advance for my grammar and spelling

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Natasha POV

I had just returned from a week-long mission and the only thing I wanted to do was fall asleep in my bed with my girlfriend, Y/N, in my arms.

I went to our room, expecting to see her sitting on the bed watching a movie, but surprisingly she wasn't there. I headed to the bathroom, to take a shower.

With the background of Taylor Swift's Wonderland, I focused on the feeling of water sliding down my back, shampoo pulling out of my hair, and the feeling of Y/N's hands all over my body. Just thinking about it, I could feel wet. It was at that moment that I decided that I wanted to tease Y/N a little bit.

I got out of the shower and dried quickly. Then I walked over to my closet, opened the underwear box and pulled out the sexiest lingerie I had.

As soon as I put it on, I also put on stiletto heels, her favourites and lay down on the bed. I could already feel her hands caressing her body, her mouth kissing delicate kisses in front of me on my breasts, belly, scars, thighs and finally where I wanted her most. I could smell it all over, which made me even more.

With shaking hands, I texted Y/N, telling her that I had come home and was waiting for her in our room. After less than thirty seconds she replied telling me that she would arrive immediately. I smiled to myself.

"Excuse me, love, I wanted to come and see you when you landed, but Wheelie managed to break his shock absorbers and I had to build more because they didn't get there-" she stopped suddenly, finally noticing the scene in front of her.

"Hello детка" I whispered to her, slowly and sensually getting out of bed, and going towards her. (baby)

"Do you know what it does to me when you wear this?" She asked, approaching the bed in turn.

Even though I wore heels, she continued to be taller than me. I took her face in my hands, thus crossing our eyes.

Her lips were ghosting mine, ready to kiss me. I gave her a smirk, lightly biting my lower lip sensually. This made her look down and I decided to take the reins and kiss her. The kiss was not aggressive or urgent, it was calm and flat of love.

Without detaching herself, Y/N sat on the bed, while I sat on her, slowly continuing to kiss her, savouring the moment. With each kiss we had, I could feel the butterflies in my stomach, as if it were always our first time, our first kiss.

Always very calmly, she began to leave a trail of kisses on my jaw, then continued to descend until she gave me kisses on the neck, leaving a few hickeys here and there. She then reached my pulse point lightly biting it, making me moan loudly.

I could feel the smirk on her face, but I saw it clearly when I put my hands on her cheeks and gently raised her head. I kissed her on the nose, looking into her eyes then gently. Contrary to what Tony jokes about, when we have sex it is not violent sex, with bondage and spanking; Of course, there are sometimes times that in the heat, a bit violent it is, but it rarely happens. Most of the time, ours is passionate sex, in which we take our time to better savour our feelings and give ourselves that moment of calm that we can not always find.

I felt her hands descend, from my neck to my breasts, massaging and squeezing them gently, then caressing my stomach and with her fingers gently gazing at the scar above my hip bone. I could tell she was holding back. It wasn't the first time this had happened. She was always afraid of hurting me or being too violent. I always reassured her that everything we did was perfect and that she didn't have to worry about anything.

"Hey," I said, taking her face in my hands. "Look at me. You won't hurt me. Quite the opposite. You'll make me feel good like all the other times," I continued to reassure her and she nodded.

She turned, supporting me with one hand behind her back, and laid me on the bed gently. Then she resumed kissing me more confidently than before. Her kisses this time were more decisive and rough, enough to understand that she had the situation in hand. She swiped her tongue on my bottom lip, making me open my mouth to give her control of the kiss.

After making out for a while, she let her kisses down my neck, leaving little soothers here and there. Her gentle kisses went down from my neck to my chest. Her hands lovingly caressed my hips, never putting too much pressure. She looked me in the eye for a few seconds, never stopping kissing my body.

"You're the only girl I have eyes for. If I ever look at someone else, take my eyes off," she said, staring at me as her hand moved from my side to my breasts, gently squeezing.

She sat on her heels, calmly taking off her shirt, and showing me all her tattoos. I could see my symbol on her right side, the lyrics of a song on her left side, the Italian flag on her sternum, the tribal on her entire right arm, from shoulder to hand, "We'll Be Alright" from Harry Styles' Fine Line on her left arm, over a scar she had made when she was going through a dark period, and the Joker's face high on her left arm. On the left forearm, however, there was the tattoo they made at the camp of the demigods for each year they were there. It consisted of the symbol of one's divine parent with lines below corresponding to each year of service. They stopped doing it to her when her brother resigned from the post of director, making way for her.

With a quick movement, she unfastened my bra and then threw it somewhere in the room. She looked at my tits like a child seeing them for the first time in her life. My nipples immediately erected in contact with the cold air in the room. She took my right nipple into her mouth, sucking gently, making me moan and putting my hands in her hair, stroking it as I pulled back my head in euphoria. The other hand made sure that my left breast had no less attention. She was teasing my nipple, rolling it between two of her fingers. Then she switched.

I could feel the thong I was wearing getting wetter and wetter and sticking to my skin. Then she stopped paying attention to my tits and kept coming down, leaving wet kisses everywhere she could. She took her time to kiss my scars and traced them.

"Y/N, please. Just get into it" I pleaded, signing, hoping it would pass that -pleasant- burning sensation I was experiencing.

"Patience, love, patience. In my own time, I get there," she replied in a teasing way, smirking at me.

She started kissing me again, but this time on the thighs. First, the right, leaving purple marks here and there, then the left, repeating the same action. She looked up to look at me and smiled at me as she kissed me over my panties, now soaked in my juice.

"Can you feel it Y/N? Do you feel how wet I am for you?" I asked her with a smile, as one of my hands peeled off her hair and positioned itself on my breasts, massaging them slowly.

She nodded, but it wasn't the answer I was looking for. I tugged at her hair to make her face me.

"I'll ask you another time," I warned, "Feel how wet I am for you, mhm?"

"Yes Nat, I can feel it," she whispered, but she wasn't focused on my eyes this time but on my lips.

I pushed her head between my legs again and this time she didn't hesitate. Always staring into my eyes, she took off my panties and threw them across the room. Then, without even looking, she licked my pussy from bottom to top, circling my clit a few times. She then started to suck my bundle of nerves, making me pull my head back and moan. I could feel that she wanted to say something, probably a remark about me being desperate, but before she could say anything, I stopped her, tugging at her hair, removing her face from my pussy.

"If you want to fuck me tonight, you will do as I say. Or else, you'll be all tied up for me. You'll watch while I pleasure myself, knuckles deep in my tight and pretty pussy that you claim to own, moaning your name, while you can't do anything about it. Would you like that, sweetheart?" I said to her and she shook her head at the last question.

"My good little soldier. So obedient for me. So good for me. My good girl" I continued, pushing her head towards my sex again.

She started to suck my clit again, my moans and grunts the only thing that could be heard in the room. Honestly, I could have cum just by her mouth sucking and licking my clit.

"Come on Y/N, make me cum. I want to paint your face with my juice. I want to see my cum on your lips and chin. Be a good girl and make me come." I said to her while moaning, grinding my pussy on her face, my abdomen contracting every time.

Suddenly, I felt her tongue entering me, making me scream of pure ecstasy. My thighs were shaking and wrapping around her head. As a result of this, she moaned, the vibration of her voice making more juice come out of me. My mouth made an O shape, my hands were clutching her hair. She lapped at my pussy like it was her last meal.

"God yes Y/N. Oh, you're such a good girl for me. Good Soldier" I praised her; I saw her grinding against the mattress to try and get some friction.

She finished cleaning me up and I tugged her up, kissing her lips softly. I could taste myself on her lips and I moaned into her mouth at that.

"Do I taste good, my love?" I asked, tangling my hands in her hair. She nodded, but I wanted to hear her say it, so I pulled her hair slightly so, as not to hurt. "I want a verbal answer, кролик" I said to her as a warning. (bunny)

"Yes Nat, you taste very good" she said, her pupils dilatated.

"Good" I said. "Now, I want you to make me cum on your fingers" I continued, taking her hand, sucking on two of her fingers, making them wet for me even though I didn't think it would have been necessary. She made me so fucking wet.

She was watching me carefully, never taking her eyes off my movements. She was almost mesmerized by what I was doing. I pulled her fingers out of my mouth and she looked down, noticing a wisp of saliva attached to her fingers. I guided her hand down until I got to my pussy. She understood immediately. She started to rub circles on my clit, starting at a slow pace but going a bit faster after I shot her a warning look.

My hands sneaked behind her neck, pulling her down to connect our lips in a needy kiss. I could still taste myself, but I didn't care at that moment. I moaned louder in her mouth when she inserted a finger into me, pumping slowly into me. I whimpered in her mouth to add another finger and to start to go faster, assuring her I could take it. When she finally added a second finger to me and started to pump her digits with more force, I detached my mouth from hers and slowly and sensually started kissing her neck, leaving some hickeys.

When she curled her fingers, touching that spot inside me that made me go feral, I knew I was close to coming. And by her reaction she knew too, because, even if I didn’t ask her, she placed her thumb on my clit, rubbing my bud more roughly than before. My thighs started to shake violently. That was all it took me for screaming and cumming on her fingers while praising her for making me cum so good.

“God baby, you really do know how to use your fingers, mhm” I whispered in her ear, biting her earlobe, knowing it was one of her biggest turn-ons. I watched her face go red. I just pulled her down on me, letting her get comfortable on my chest. She just lay there for some time, cuddling with me.

"I love how sensible your ears are. I understand why you love them so much, кролик" I teased her, watching her face become a darker shade of red.

Usually, when she is very anxious, which happens a lot of times, she starts to touch her ear. At first, she never wanted anyone to touch her ear or she would start to cry. Early on in our relationship, every time we cuddled or she laid her head on my lap, if I accidentally touched her ear while stroking her hair she would get up and run off somewhere else. Then she started to get more comfortable and now, when I touch her ear, she relaxes herself.

After some time, she stood up, offering her hand to me, and pulling me up to my feet. My legs started to shake again, but she supported me before I could fall on the floor. She carried me into the bathroom, putting me down on the counter. She went towards our bath and she started to fill it.

"Oh, my darling" I said and she turned around, watching me "You are the sweetest demigod on earth, aren't you? Look at you; the big bad Daughter of Zeus, preparing a bath for her girlfriend" I smiled at her and she smiled back, coming towards me and kissing me gently.

Yes, I made a good choice by starting a relationship with her.

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff smut #black widow x reader #marvel #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fluff

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