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somany-fandoms-solittle-time · 8 months ago

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“What’s so Special About the Moon?”

Jamil Viper x Mac

Ch. 1 – Ch. 2 – (Ch. 3) – Ch. 4 – Next – Previous

I never thought I’d finish this chapter…. LIKE HOLY SHIT I HATED OPENING MY NOTEBOOK BUT THE TIME HAS COME Y’ALL!!! I was planning on posting this before Valentines Day, but I got kinda busy and then almost a whole month passed lol! I’m also convinced I no longer know how to write two characters interacting with each other properly… Maybe the break was needed? No song in this one, but there’s so Mac lore and somewhat talking about feelings! The next (and final) chapter of this will be like a romanticized epilogue. Since I’m not sure how much I want to actually write and plan out for this oc, specifically regarding timeline stuff, it’s not gonna be considered “canon” [p.s. The most beta this gets is a quick read through of a 2nd draft after I finish typing it up so there may be mistakes or sentences that don’t make total sense]

The cream stone walls, lined with gold and crimson ceramics, provided an open, airy atmosphere to the Scarabia’s main Kitchen. Gentle breezes shifted Jamil’s long, dark hair while his busy hands expertly prepared baked pakoras. Their delightful deep-fried scent filled the air, making Mac’s already dry mouth water. Another beat or two of awkward silence oppressed the two as the Ramshackle Housewarden lightly sipped at the nearly empty glass of pink lemonade (including a few tiny chunks of dragonfruit).

“If you would like a second glass, there’s plenty left in the pitcher; second fridge to the right, middle shelf. I’d offer to pour but I must make sure these don’t burn.” Jamil finally broke the silence with more than the single-worded responses Mac was using. Xey supposed they couldn’t run away, least they be called out for being a hypocrite.

“No worries, I mean, I wasn’t really expecting you to serve me hand and foot,” they attempted to joke as a way to ease back into conversation.

“Scalding Sand hospitality would say otherwise,” Jamil easily shot back with a hint of mirth in his tone.

“Well,” Mac dragged out in a tired sigh, “I’m not royalty or a wealthy merchant. Besides, I’m not exactly fluent in any desert customs, Twisted Wonderland or otherwise… Kinda the opposite in fact! So, really, it’s no problem between us. I mean! You don’t need to feel like you have to go through any extra effort or ceremony for my sake.” Their hesitant eyes flicked fervently between filling the lemonade and the calm, sturdy back of the Vice Warden. A panicked symphony of little anxieties added an extra depth to xeir already drooping eyes.

Jamil remained calm. So fucking calm and put together that the Ramshackle Perfect could feel xeir anxiety almost turn to frustration. Almost. That deep well of guilt and shame kept them ‘grounded’ while waiting to hear some type of response.

“No need to concern yourself so much, it’s more force of habit than anything else.”

Mac huffed hardheartedly, “Trust me. I’d rather kill myself than even consider being a bother.” It was meant to be a more lighthearted joke but from Jamil’s reaction, he wasn’t used to such crude self-deprecation. A wide-eyed panic flooded his own eyes quickly as if mentally preparing to start damage control.

“Relax,” Mac continued with a snort, “nihilism is like breathing where I’m from.” A domino effect went through xeir body following their wave of flippancy. A harmless eye-roll, followed by a slightly less strained side-smile, the finishing with a light shrug into a slouch. “Besides, you can only have so many near-death experiences before beginning to think about death with casual indifference. You should try it sometimes… might loosen you up a bit!”

“It seems I’ve gotten too used to Kalim’s more literal style of speech.” the Vice replied through lightly gritted teeth; completely omitting any comment about how he did almost die during his overblot. The forced politeness remained and insisted on the reconstruction of his peripheral walls. It was really starting to piss Mac off. Good thing ze were a nosy bitch!

Fiddling in their lap, they sent a quick message to the ‘Ramshackle Freshies’ group chat letting them know not to wait up. Ze suddenly had a new, and challenging, job to do.

“… Considering how well you two got along I thought you shared that similarity,” the second year whispered under his breath, likely meant just to himself. Seriously, Mac thought, was he really meant to be sneaky? How’d he ever get away with it in the past?

“I was a lot like Kalim when I was younger,” xey replied just to watch Jamil startle out of his thoughtful pout. “Yeah, back when I was 15 before… a lotta things happened. It’s why I can, well, I think I can understand your whole dynamic.” They started rambling again and sporadically moving their arms. It was too easy for him to overshare nonsense that had nothing to do with the conversation at hand.

At least xeir slip of the tongue caught the desert snake’s attention. These two working-class students were both so emotionally huddled up in on themselves, manning their defenses, to properly have a conversation. Both desperately trying to claim secrets and information from the other. (The elder trying to understand and provide comfort while the younger planning to gain back some trust, solve their puzzling nature and…. A little of something else).

Becoming so lost in their own thoughts that the clinking ice cubes in xeir drink began to melt. The only other sounds were of the occasional Scarabia students shuffling path the doors, unwilling to enter the dorm kitchen. It was well-known that the kitchens were Jamil’s domain and kingdom. Add-on the weirdly tense vibes emitting from the two beyond the door. Yeah, this wasn’t the ‘Dorm for Mindfulness’ for nothing. No one would be stepping a foot inside until the other two were long gone.

Looks like it was cafeteria of food from the Lounge this weekend.

By this time, the deep-fried delight was finished and barely cooled down before being devoured. Continuous awkward silence would give the poor magicless Perfect indigestion at this point. I guess I’ll bite first, xey thought, making up his mind.

“This…,” a deep, yet hollow sigh, “isn’t gonna work.”

“What won’t work?” Jamil cautiously prompted, taking his time to search Mac’s body language.

“If we can’t chill out and come to some kind of understanding, everyone will be bugging us for weeks. Or worse… they’ll come up with some stupid, half-baked plan to force us to work it out.” They both felt a disturbing shiver imagining their resident idiot(s) locking them in a closet, or something equally cliche. Not that Mac hadn’t tried the same exact thing before realizing set-ups only work in movies and shojou anime. That would be ridiculous.

“And what do you suggest?” He replied after thinking it over for a moment.

“Twenty questions.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” zeir shit-eating, mischievous, obnoxiously lighthearted grin was practically audible at this point.

“You think some adolescent party game to learn each other’s favorite color will smooth over our interactions enough to fool Vil or Rook?” was the apathetic, snarky argument the Vice Warden shot back.

Mac released a playful gasp as xey jumped to reply, “How DARE you mock the sacred ritual of 20 questions. Or how much a favorite color can provide a little insight. I would know, I passed my Intro to Psychology class in High School.” Their easy wink was all the transition needed to put the testy air behind them. Besides, there might’ve actually been a small bit of truth in xeir joking attitude.

“You’ve tested it?”

“Online dating was a complete bitch and a half. Any ‘simple question game’ keeps the conversation going and vets out creepy weirdos.”

“But I already know how strange you are,” Jamil scoffed out the quip like second nature.

“Sorry, Babydoll, but you have no idea how much of a Freak I am.” Mac shot back with a laugh at the embarrassed look ascending Jamil’s neck and over his face. He seemed to tense on instinct, but decided to push through while he could still look his older underclassman in the eyes.

“Did these type of lines actually work for you?” He asked, standing up to try to brush of his initial reaction and to get started on their dirtied dished.

“If that’s your first question, then yes! I’m pretty good at adjusting to all sorts of personality types, which is great for a hook-up but doesn’t last long when it comes to serious relationships.” Xey answered somewhat matter-of-factually but still tasted of insecurity. Mac wasn’t ashamed, per say, of the occasional good time, but was borderline unhealthy with their distraction of choice.

With that the young servant raised a judgmental eyebrow that arched with a misplaced possessive jealousy, before becoming slightly thoughtful. Jamil had gone through extensive training in order to gain (and retain) a similar skill, he supposed. Not that it was anything he’d revel to the Perfect sitting across from him. Nor did he have to explain or like the venomous feelings he was actively shoving down the back of his throat. Just another poison to keep from spilling over, he thought trying to ignore the blatant irony of the whole situation.

“How about you?” Never mind!

Mac motioned xeir hand out expectantly. Behind his smudged glasses were gentle, pleading puppy dog eyes meaning to encourage Jamil only made him curl in on himself all the more.

“Is that you’re question? Seems hardly fair to just project the same question back,” He responded in a jilted, caved-off taunt. “Shouldn’t you have enough braincells to think of your own questions… instead of making me do all the work.”

Instead of backing off—or acting offended or snapping back with an equally sarcastic response—they simply laughed. Just… laughed. It wasn’t a patronizing huff like his own or a naive giggle like whenever Jamil said something that went over Kalim’s head. Xey laughed with a heavy nostalgia and in relief of finding the groove of conversation once again.

“Sorry, sorry! The version my… friends, I think, played we’d always have to answer whatever we asked. Prevents anyone getting ganged up on or an imbalanced type of questions.” Xe replied with ease.

Jamil answered dryly in response, “I spent the majority of my life following in Kalim’s shadow; we did grow up together after all. When I wasn’t by his side I either had work, chores or school. This didn’t exactly leave a lot of room for deeper friendships, let alone dating.” Surprisingly, the majority of what he said was the true.

It wasn’t the whole truth, but true nonetheless. Equal measurements of shame and embarrassment for being a servant always made the young Viper hesitant to pursue any real relationships while in middle school. Casual friends were one thing, superficial and somewhat difficult to maintain, but achievable. Dating, however, would take his focus away from his duties to Kalim (and possibly endanger the heir)

While Jamil’s thoughts were grim and filled with resentment, the other student hummed in consideration. How the two connected to people; how they both learned how and when to respond to the people they’re forced to be around felt oddly similar. Not the same, not by a long shot, but definitely similar.

“Well isn’t that just completely depressing,” Mac started to say under her breath before quickly transitioning to their own question: “Okay, well, how ‘bout your favorite type of music?” The answer they received back was a ‘cut-the-bullshit’ type of frown. Clearly, he didn’t consider it an equal exchange.

“Okay! Fine! What was your dream job as a child?”

This time Jamil couldn’t control his reactions so seamlessly. The Vice Warden’s eyes bulged as the startled intake of breath entered his body. His entire body took on a different type of hardheadedness to guard compensate his apparent embarrassment. He’s been feeling embarrassed a lot lately.

“Oh c’mon~ Every kid had a silly dream job! I probably went through a dozen, at least. So just spill already.” Ze said, trying to urge him to uncoil the tension from his jaw.

“It doesn’t matter! I knew I was destined to remain a servant my whole life, there was no reason to bother making silly plans.” Jamil hurriedly snapped in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

“Doesn’t mean some 5-year-old Jamil didn’t want to be a firefighter at some point.” Mac countered.

“I never dreamed of being something so foolish and mundane as a firefighter…” Jamil said, raising a defiant eyebrow.

“But you dreamt to be something or the other! C’mon, Viper, throw me a bone here wouldja?”

The two stared the other down, prepared to go back and forth. Clean-up had already been finished by the end of the first question and now Jamil brought out two, small fruit plates. It was a nonverbal offering to keep the conversation going despite his own dodgy replies. How was it possible that relatively harmless banter could be pulled from a subject as touchy as his lack of childhood?

Mac’s ease and understanding, even with their awkward or overbearing, of conversation had charmed the Viper’s unsettled and distrusting nature. If xey weren’t painfully honest (and particularly bad at keeping secrets for long), Jamil would have been worried she was a spy. Whatever I tell them—Kalim’s probably already told his club members, so there’s little harm to be done, he thought begrudgingly.

“A dancer,” his soft whisper blew past the lightly dripping faucet and over the desert’s dunes. In the heart of his answer—an unexpected level of raw honesty—cascaded over the billowing heat in a brutal, stubborn calm.

Mac wasn’t surprised, but he smiled at the second year anyway. That soft look, a fresh morning dew covering the forest floor in the late spring, both cooled and energized the flustered boy. It was an expression he wasn’t often familiar with; such genuine patience and pride over 3 short syllabus was uncalled for when it came to a servant like him. Such an insignificant moment held so much weight when they looked at him like that. A sight and experience that a much younger Jamil would’ve thought impossible to even dream of.

“I’m pretty sure I wanted to be a ballerina, for a time.” A hushed excitement at their shared interest.

“Really?” He’d seen them dance and… never got that impression before.

“Yeah, for like a week. Then it was a police officer, before I found out how much running around I would have to do. After that it was an engineer; who knew there was so much math involved? For a little bit I was dedicated to become the President.” Xeir answers tumbled out easily with plenty of humor behind each one.

“… President of what?” Jamil asked in confusion.

“Of the country! There’s not a whole lotta royal families back on Earth, but anyway, Politics is messy and absolutely soul-crushing. I would probably have twenty breakdowns a month even attempting to jump into THAT cesspool!”

“Ah…” Jamil mentally noted the casual explanation over the bewildering differences between Mac’s world and his own. It wasn’t the easiest to wrap his head around a country with no king, queen, or Sultan.

“Right?! Felt like I wanted to try a little bit of everything, but I always came back to performing on a stage…” For a moment there was a wistful look in their eye before quickly being pushed away.

“… In what way? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, anyway I can. A pianist, an actress, a singer; all I wanted to do since I could remember was to entertain a crowd of people on a stage while I felt those warming lights beaming down on me.” The wistful expression was back with a small tug of a smile.

“Why tell me all of this in the first place?” Jamil knew he had already asked multiple questions at this point, but he had to know. He had to know everything that made up the strange magicless student across from him even more than he wanted to conceal himself. There was just an insatiable need to be their confidant, an archive of Mac Trivia, to just be anything xey let him be. It was strange and powerful and scared him almost as much as they intrigued him. It was an emotional tight-rope he never expected to need to walk, even now, as he studied his companion’s reaction.

“Because even if I do forget it all again, maybe I won’t have to loose myself entirely. Maybe then at least a part of my story will live on and be remembered. Why would people tell stories or gossip or do anything at all, if not for it to be at least remembered by someone?”

They both took a quiet moment to contemplate the sudden serious tone. It wasn’t the fighting or finger-pointing from earlier, but the air felt different from before. Like the next topic, which was Jamil’s to choose, would make or break the tension that was floating around all day between the two of them.

But what in the Twisted Wonderland was he supposed to ask zer after all that?!

There were so many things that still remained a mystery when it came to who Mac was or where they were from (or even why they were sent here in the first place). An uncountable amount of possible questions sped through the 2nd year’s head, trying desperately to pick the right one.

But this—this moment—was an opening to move forward from any awkwardness. Moving past the caring, nosy nuisance to a bond made of understanding. And if Jamil was honest, something he rarely was but making an effort today, than there was really only one specific he needed to know in the moment:

“The sun or the moon?”

“Huh?”

He had blurted it out less like a question and more as an overall demand. An unconscious hiss slipping from between his twisted lips and tempting tongue. Truly, an oversight considering how much the Scarabia resident was overthinking his options… he somehow lost control of his words.

“Sorry! Um… I meant to say, are you a day or night person? Basically do you prefer the Sun or the moon?” Jamil internally cursed himself as he back-pedaled. The earlier courage lost and desperately hoping to skirt passed awkward tension that might follow.

“Bullshit.” Oh for Seven’s Sake!

Mac slowly let xeir eyes glide over each of Jamil’s facial features. Thinking. Analyzing. Committing to memory the very real, very vulnerable intensity the original question had posed.

“The Sun and Moon are considered two halves of a whole, even if they aren’t necessary opposites; why should they be compared in the first place? Why put two celestial bodies against each other? Figuratively or metaphorically.”

Suddenly, the non-native Twistian held the same intensity as Jamil’s initial slip had if not more. It was the stubborn authority he felt in the laundry room—the same focus and need to understand. To be understood. To struggle with the truth while desperately, insistently, needing it to be said.

It scared him. More than hostage situations or poison testing, Mac scared and impressed Jamil more than he could describe. The fact that they were saying exactly what he needed to hear since he was 6-year-old.

“What’s so special about the moon? The sun will always outshine the moon—it can’t even make it’s own light. Then forced into the shadows without the Sun’s light.” He stated in response, trying to opposing his shaken heartbeat, but his tone sounded recited. It was a line he’d told himself time and time again as a mantra from his parents.

“I don’t think so,” the Ramshackle Perfect answered as simply as breathing, “because the moon is beautiful and mysterious and needed. It can do things even the sun cannot. Yes, the sun is beautiful and lovely and celebrated—but I don’t think you understand just how important the Moon is!”

Jamil responded in the last possible way either students expected him to: laughing his ass off. It was hand to describe any undertones of his laughter, but it wasn’t cruel or crazed like when he overblotted. A familiar bite of bitterness lingered in the air while the body of his laughter rang with astonished sincerity.

This was not the same Vice Warden that had tried to scheme against his childhood friend for a small taste of freedom. It wasn’t the snippy, exasperated retainer simply building back his reputation. Nor was it the frustrated, closed off second year that had been yelling all bout how the Perfect didn’t understand him.

He finally felt a little more free, placated and relieved, now that he’s taken a moment to grow. To learn. To feel and be validated in being his own person. Allowed to be better and show it to someone; show himself, at least partially, to Mac.

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I hope you’ve enjoyed the story so far!! This is one of the longest fiction works I think I’ve committed to! I’m between two different songs to round this story out (Blue Moon by Billie Holiday or Here Comes The Sun by George Harrison) but I have an ongoing playlist of songs that remind me of Jamil. Some of them are jokes or ironic, some a little bit more spiteful, and others that really embody aspects of his character… at least to me lol! Feel free to add random songs that make you think of Jamil and if it’s not already in the monster of a thing.

#WSSATM #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #jamil viper #writing #Mac (oc insert)#twst oc Mac #twst oc (Mac)#WSSATM ch. 3 #Jamil Viper x Mac #jamil viper x mc #twisted wonderland fanfiction #Aims Writing Library #Aim's Writing Library

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miscelunaaa · 2 years ago

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cuffing szn 4 | knj

pairing: fbi agent!namjoon x soft-bodied/plus-sized female reader

genre: strangers to lovers, an attempt at crack??, little bit of angst, smut

summary: All Namjoon wants is some peace and quiet after a long, shitty day at work. Thanks to a party upstairs and Jungkook’s sticky fingers, he’s stuck with you instead.

rating: 18+ for weighty topics and explicit sexual content

word count: 5.7k

warnings: Swearing, always. Safe handling of a firearm. Jungkook being a little chaotic nosy. References to legal alcohol consumption. There’s a lot here that’s not really true to life but the biggest lie is Jungkook texting someone and responding to their reply ☠️ Explicit sexual content in the form of: Soft Dom Namjoon. Reader’s got a thing for his big body, so like size kink I guess kind of but without mentions of any size difference between them at all. Lots of mentions of stretch marks and softness :). Mild body insecurity. A MOMENT OF DUMBIFICATION??? BUT LIKE REALLY MILD???? Check-ins again help. Nipple play. Lots of light biting. Light kink negotiation? Pet names (baby, baby girl). Daddy kink. Light begging. Dirty talk. Oral sex, female receiving. Light edging. More check-ins. Big Dick!Namjoon. Unprotected sex with other birth control in place (IUD). Change in sex positions. Modified doggy-style. Fingie sucking. Light degradation (use of the word “slut” twice? and “cocksleeve” once). Praise kink. Creampie. Aftercare, some light cathartic crying, and cuddles!

notes: HA. HAHAHA. ME?? STICK TO A SCHEDULE???? SDJKFJASKFJ PLS. Alright y’all, happy comeback. I’m feeling better and my PCR was negative so fuck it, let’s go, let’s finish this shit out strong!! I hope y’all like it, let me know what you think :) thank you so much for reading and joining me on this journey.

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3 | soft-bodied reader essay

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Namjoon’s apartment feels different from last time. Instead of bending down to help you take off your boots, you can just kick off your slip-ons. Instead of a jacket thrown over the back of the couch, it’s still on his tall frame. There’s nothing waiting to be put away in the kitchen, no phantom smells of a meal made. Above all, it’s quiet. Taehyung and Jungkook haven’t turned their music back up yet.

“Hey, wait, do you need to eat something? You only just got home right?” you ask, right as he’s shrugging off his suit jacket.

As he loosens his tie, you feel his eyes running up and down the lines of your body. You can’t imagine you’re much of a sight in your ratty sweatpants and old hoodie, but his gaze doesn’t seem to notice the difference between this outfit and the last.

“Not really hungry right now.”

Right. Not, at least, in the way one might think.

You awkwardly stand by as he takes off his shoes. The difference in the amount of clothes between the two of your is honestly amusing. You realize you’re starring when he suddenly shifts before, placing a finger beneath your chin and turning your face to his.

If looks could start fires, you’d be ablaze.

He’s attractive, that much is obvious for you. He’d been attractive at Hoseok and Jin’s bachelor party, but in that cute, grumpy way that comes so easily to him. This look, however, is more intense even than the ones he gave you the morning after. All of the emotions you’ve felt over the past few weeks are mirrored in his gaze. Namjoon’s already made it clear with his words but this look shows you that he wants you as much as you want him.

You step into him to close the gap, letting your lips fall upon his. Immediately, his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close as he tilts his head for a closer fit to your mouth. When his tongue begins to brush against yours, you wonder if he can taste the lemonade your drank upstairs. At least, you hope it’s the lemonade, and not the pizza.

“Bedroom. Now,” he mouths against you, and you don’t have it within you to hide your enthusiasm as you take his hand and follow.

He’s barely flipped on the light before he’s tossing his suit jacked to the side. With care, he takes his gun from this shoulder holster and places it in his safe. By the time he’s run through the little lock/unlock routine, you’re already sitting on his bed with your legs crossed, watching him move. He finally takes his tie off all the way and shrugs off his shoulder holster, his back to you. Watching the fabric of his shirt stretch and wrinkle over the muscular expanse of his back could entertain you for hours.

He stops before joining you, his hands clenched at his sides. He chews on his lip.

“So last time, you said you didn’t do things like this much, and uh, I don’t know if I actually mentioned it, but I don’t do this much either.”

“I figured. You actually checked the date on the condom.”

“That’s something that should be done every time but point taken.”

For a moment, he falls silent, staring at a point in space that you can’t locate.

“Namjoon, why’d you bring this up?”

His eyes squinch closed. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I don’t want to do this if there’s not a chance to see you again.”

You blink.

“Okay. I want to see you again too. I wasn’t shitting you at the party, you know. I do think you’re interesting.” Your voice sounds more even than you expected it to. You thought the fluttering of your heart in your chest would shake the words more, but you’ve managed to mask it well.

Namjoon softens, his shoulders relaxing and his hands coming loose. He runs a hand through his dark hair.

“Really?”

“We’ve been thinking about each other for weeks,” you say softly. “I’m not in the business of saying things or doing things I don’t mean.”

He’s silent for a moment, before he sits down at the edge of the bed, just close enough for you to feel the heat coming off his body.

“Great. We should talk more tomorrow. Gotta make up for that missed blind date,” he teases.

“I mean there’s always a chance you might hate me, or that I’ll hate you. Maybe you’re like, I don’t know, a cat person and I’m a dog person and it just won’t work. Maybe—"

“Babe.”

Your spine tingles. He’s already started calling you pet names again. It feels like he’s beginning to slip into a role, or a headspace of some kind. It’s thrilling.

“Y-yeah?”

“Do you want this?”

His eyes are dark, he’s doing that thing where his eyes seem half-closed even as he looks at you intently. That hooded look; dragon eyes, some people call them. Call them whatever, but the effect is powerful. You feel wanted and you love it.

“Please. More than anything.”

“Then take off your clothes, I want to see you. We can figure all the other shit out later.”

Your breath hitches with the command, but somehow you find it in you to sit up and take off your hoodie, pausing to watch Namjoon stand as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. It’s hypnotizing to watch his fingers work the buttons. When he tosses it aside, he reveals the tight undershirt he’s been wearing.

To your delight (and somehow, dismay; you’re waiting for him to show some physical flaw), he’s still big, even under the dress shirt. You’ve not seen each other naked before, so each layer that comes off leaves you more enticed than the last. The idea of feeling his warm skin against yours makes your body throb.

As Namjoon begins to untuck his dress shirt, he clears his throat, quirking an eyebrow.

You look down. Right. Hoodie needs to come off. The weight of his potential disappointment turns your fingers to lead. He’s felt what you feel like beneath your clothes before, and there’s no way a big, tall guy like him doesn’t have stretch marks. He saw some of yours last time, but still it feels strange. It’s been a while and this is different than last time. It’s more intimate. It’s more intense.

“What, do you need help?”

A shiver runs down your spine, just strong enough that you’re sure he saw you tremble. The visceral reaction you have to his teasing tone is … well, it’s a lot, and it’s unexpected. Even more unexpected is the way you look at him; you can feel yourself slip into the role, lips parted, leaning into the moment. With the smallest, slightest pout you can muster, you nod, and say:

“Please.”

He steps over to the bed, leaning forward to enclose you between his arms. The mattress dips as he lets his weight settle on either side of you. You bite your lip. Every nerve ending in your body is buzzing with excitement. What’s next?

“Please, what, baby girl?”

Fuck. Fuuuuck.

“Please, help me …” The title is on the tip of your tongue, but you never finish your plea the way you want to.

Namjoon’s eyes flutter closed for a moment. The knot in his throat bobs as he swallows.

“Why is that so hot?” he mutters.

“I don’t know,” you reply. The deja vu hits you like a little wave lapping at your ankles, instead of sweeping you away. It seems you’re both into things that a lot of people aren’t. “Are you—are you into what I think you’re into? Oh my god—were you into it at the party when they called you a daddy?”

When Namjoon finally looks at you again, his nose is wrinkled into a grimace. “It’s weird, isn’t it? I came on too strong.”

“No.” You let your hand come up to cup his face. His face relaxes with the contact, but he’s still pouting even as you try to reassure him. “Maybe for other people, but not for me.”

This moment feels so strange. It’s just like last time, but you’re the one trying to ease the other’s mind. You’re so different and yet so alike.

“I—“ he starts, before sighing and shuffling to sit on the bed next to you. “I have a hard time letting myself be vulnerable. This is one of those things. Last time I thought it was just going to be one and done, so I never even dreamed of bringing it up, but then I kept liking you. We kept liking each other, and now you’re here.” He runs a hand over his face. “And the way you looked at me when I asked if you needed help …”

“It’s really okay, I promise. I like it too. And, I don’t know. You’re not actually a parent or old enough to be my dad or anything so it’s not weird?” This moment feels so strange, though. You both have to talk yourselves through this.

“No weirder than it needs to be, at least.”

“Right. And I promise I liked it. Also, kind of a different topic,” you pause, biting your lip. “I like the fact that we check in with each other so much, like I’ve never had that in a romantic relationship.” Namjoon smiles when he hears this, and your heart flutters. “That said, I’m really ready to get dicked down by your huge—"

His mouth tightens into a line, making a muscle in his jaw twitch. There may be no better way to shut you up, and if there is, you’ll have to find it together. Finally, he says, “Point taken. You know the traffic light system?”

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for keep going?”

“Great, use that if there’s something you don’t like or don’t want to do at any point in time. Not that we’re getting too weird, but just in case.”

Namjoon doesn’t hesitate before leaning over to press a quick kiss to your lips. Before you can reach for him, he’s pulling back, reaching for the elastic hem of your hoodie. As his palms, warm and rough, brush against the skin of your middle, you forget why you were nervous in the first place.

“Time to take this off,” he rasps in your ear as he helps push the garment up. As the cool air of the bedroom hits your skin, you shiver. You let yourself fall back as you lift your hips to start pushing down your sweats. Namjoon sits up and away, and then you hear a rustling and suddenly, he’s back at your side, now shirtless. You freeze.

“What?” he smirks. You’ve not even managed to get your pants halfway down your thighs, but whatever he can see is nothing compared to what you can see of him. He looks so good you want to hide in a hole, but you also have the urge to run your tongue over every inch you see. You’re not even sure which would be less awkward, so instead you just stare.

Every inch of him is solid muscle covered in warm, resplendent skin. Bulging pectorals, faintly defined abdominals, biceps, triceps, muscles you forgot the name of after high school anatomy … all wrought carefully and presented to you in one big, beautiful package. You can’t get enough, but it’s also too much, making your stomach turn with nerves. You can’t even look at his face with those fucking dimples without feeling flustered. He’s handsome and built and fuck he’s kind on top of all that and you’re suddenly panicking. You pull your pants back up to your waist and cover your face with your hands with a groan.

“Do … you want me to put the shirt back on?” Namjoon laughs. It’s a tease but you’re half tempted to answer it anyway. He settles into his elbow on his side, and hooks his other arm around your waist, trying to pull you closer. A hand cups your face, his thumb running over your cheekbone. He feels so warm against you, you almost wonder if he’s feverish. “Why are you being so shy, baby?”

“You’re just really pretty,” you murmur. You feel him tense beside you, but he says nothing. It takes a moment, but you finally let your hands fall away from your face.

Namjoon’s ears are the slightest pink. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek as his eyes roam your face. Before you know it, he’s leaning forward, tilting your chin up to his face to kiss you. Better to hide his shyness, you suppose, than talk about it any longer.

The temperature in the room is beginning to rise, or maybe that’s just the feeling of him pressing his warm body into yours. His fingers trace along your jaw and down the column of your throat. You moan into his mouth as they skate over the tight fabric of your bra. Two layers of soft mesh make it easy to see exactly where he wants to tease. His tongue slips against yours as he finds a nipple and teases it with his fingernail.

“This have a clasp or is it like a sports bra?” he murmurs, full lips brushing against yours as he listens to your breathing falter.

“Pull off like a sports bra.”

He pulls away, taking your lower lip in his teeth to nip at you as he goes. His eyes close in pleasure at the sound of your whine. Your hands meet his as you cross them to pull your bra off just as he helps push it up. Immediately, your nipples tighten in the cool air, the flesh of your breasts relaxing only to pucker as they’re freed from the confines of the undergarment.

The garment is tossed away. Namjoon dips his head to suck at your breast, a hand finding its way to the other to roll the nipple between his fingers. Heat crawls along your nerves, the synapses singing with whatever it is that’s making you feel desired. Without thinking, you bring up a hand to play with the hair at the base of his skull. It’s soft, dense, and feels good against your palm. You can’t help but grasp at the longer strands and pull.

Namjoon groans into your breast, eyes flashing to yours as he suddenly nips you. You moan, back arching to press closer to him.

“Watch it, baby girl. Let daddy do what he wants.”

You thought wanting to melt down the stairs earlier was a big feeling, but this … this is fucking unreal. You’ve never wanted a man to destroy you before; you’re absolutely ready to let him do whatever the fuck he wants to you. The level of trust you have in him borders on obscene. You can’t even formulate words; instead of responding with a “yes, daddy,” you just whimper instead.

He switches nipples, moving to suck at the other, trailing his tongue over your skin as he goes. He settles between your legs again, and you feel him flinch as his hips meet the mattress. He must be incredibly hard; the very idea makes you feel delirious with need. You want him inside you, fucking you into oblivion.

“Please, I want you inside me,” you plead.

Namjoon hums, “Doesn’t sound like you want it that bad.” He glances at you as he nips again, enraptured by the way your whole body leans into the instant in which pain and pleasure mix. This is torturous, and he knows it, and you know he doesn’t care.

On impulse, you pull at his hair again, a little harder this time. The guttural moan he lets out goes straight to your core. You watch with bated breath as he props himself up and glares down at you.

“Please, daddy, I want you,” you breathe.

He says nothing as he pushes off the mattress and stands. You sit up on your elbows, watching to see where he goes, but he doesn’t move away. All you can focus on is the bulge at the front of his pants. Suddenly, he’s kneeling at the edge, and reaching forward for your hips. The squeak you let out as he pulls you to the edge of the bed is undignified, yes, but it makes him smile.

“Doing alright? What’s your color?” he asks, now on his knees, his hands pausing at the waistband of your sweatpants.

“Yeah. All good. Green. Really, really green,” you say, watching the way his upper arm muscles bulge and flex as he pulls the sweats and your underwear off your legs. He tosses them somewhere like he’s done with the rest of your clothes; finding it all later will be more than worth the small hassle.

“Still up to date on your screenings?”

“Yes. You’re the last person I was with. Still have an IUD and everything.”

“Great, same—uh, not the IUD though, can’t really get my hand pregnant, you know?”

The laughter bubbles up in your throat and then dies as you feel Namjoon’s tongue slip into your folds. “F-fuck.”

“Such a dirty mouth,” he murmurs between licks. He’s managed to settle right back into his dominant persona. “Need to work on your behavior at some point.”

Whereas last time he’d gone all in right from the start, this time he’s more of a tease, more infuriatingly gentle. He’s stoking a fire, rather than starting it. His tongue is gentle against your soft heat, his lips only just brushing against the most sensitive parts of you. Instead of flat, rough licks against your clit, it’s as if he’s just barely stroking it with the tip of his tongue.

“P-please …” you whine, trying to rut onto his face. You’re desperate. You need more.

He ignores you, but his grip tightens on your thighs. Is he into begging? The thought of begging him to fuck you makes your head swim as your cunt clenches around nothing. What’s a bit of begging when you want it so badly?

“Daddy, please, I need more.” You just want him inside you. You want that big cock inside your cunt, making you scream. You want it so much that it’s become a need so base you’d do almost anything.

He abruptly sucks on your clit and pulls off with a pop, the sudden burst of sensation making you twitch and cry out. You shudder as he runs a finger through your warmth and hums.

“Seems like you’re wet enough, sweetheart, want to try this without a condom?”

“Please, please, I need you.” You sound almost pitiful. Fuck it, you are pitiful. You should be ashamed but no, you’re just filled with even more want, more desire for him. May as well lay it on thick to drive the point home, you’re a fucking mess at this point either way. “Want your cock, daddy.”

You hear Namjoon’s breath catch before he stands and reaches for a pillow. He has you move back a bit from the edge and lift your hips so he can place it beneath them. You watch as he starts to slowly unbutton his trousers, the muscles of his abdomen tight as his hands brush over his bulge with the lowering of the zipper.

“Touch yourself, baby. I want to see how you like it.”

You trail your hand down your body, over the swell of your stomach to put your fingertips to your clit, tracing the bud just like you like it. Your breath catches in your throat as Namjoon’s eyes move up and down your figure, taking in every stretch mark, every bead of sweat, every sweet undulation of your flesh. There it is again; that look of unbridled hunger appears once more as he finally pushes down his pants and boxer-briefs.

He really is just big all over, isn’t he?

He reaches for your legs, looking intently at how you’re moving your fingers before pressing his own to you. He mimics the movement with one hand while his other finds his cock, and pumps it a few times. He closes his eyes and sighs sinfully, just enjoying the feeling of skin on skin; the very sight of him stroking his own length makes you tighten around nothing.

“You ready to take daddy’s cock, gonna be a good girl for me?”

Your reply is scarcely more than a whined “yes,” but he nods and starts to line himself up, spreading his legs a little to get the elevation right. He lifts one of your legs and extends it, laying it across his torso, but without bending it back into you. The position helps you open up, even just the little, and you relish the way his fingers sink into your flesh

He’d only been inside of you for a second last time. You haven’t even come yet, so you’re not even at your tightest, but he still feels so big that it’s almost too much. Your entire body tenses as he presses carefully into you using those same small thrusts as he had before, but it’s made even more intense by his fingers still rubbing at your clit.

“Relax, breathe,” he groans, voice low and broken as he tries to stay calm. It sounds like he’s coaching himself, as well as you. “Color?”

“Green,” you respond, breathless. Your hands are tangled in the bed spread at either side of you, desperate for any sensation that might keep you grounded. He’s fitted so tightly within you, the stretch overwhelming your senses. “S-so big, but green.”

“I know. Fit me like a glove, baby girl.” His teeth are gritted, sweat starting to bead at his chest and neck.

Once he’s fully sheathed, he starts carefully flexing his hips to thrust. Every bump and ridge on his cock rubs against your heat, sending you higher and higher. Your moans become airy and desperate. All the while, his fingers are pressing into your clit, using the same patterns he’d watched you use. The mixture of sensations is heady. You can hear the sound of your cunt getting wetter as he works his length within you, and he groans in response to every keen and whimper you make. He’s more vocal than anyone else you’ve been with, more talkative too. You fucking love it.

“Making me feel so good, getting tighter like that,” he moans, his hips stuttering as it gets harder to move inside you. You’re right at the edge, you just need a little push. He cries out as you tighten further still, even as you stretch for him. “Feel so good around daddy’s cock.”

“I’m—fuck—so close it’s right there it’s right there it’s right—" you falter, holding your breath as you look for the weak spot, the brick to pull from that fucking wall that always stands between you and ecstasy.

Namjoon’s movements don’t change at all; his fingers keep working in tandem with his hips. It’s his voice is what finally brings it all crashing down for you. “Being such a good girl, such a good slut for this cock.”

You can feel yourself squeezing around him suddenly, the air whooshing out from your lungs as the orgasm pulls a cry from your throat. Namjoon stops thrusting, reveling in the feel of your cunt tightening around him, but his fingers don’t stop until you push them away. Your body shakes and shivers as he carefully pulls out and lowers your leg.

“Did so well for me,” he purrs, leaning down to kiss you, even as your body quakes beneath him. “Still okay with more?”

You shakily nod and reach for him with trembling hands. “Want your cum. Want you finish inside me, daddy.”

Namjoon nods darkly while he removes the pillow from beneath your hips. He has you move further up onto the bed, before having you flip to your stomach and lift your hips yet again. He places the pillow again, and hums when he’s satisfied.

“Breathe again for me, baby, we’re so close now.”

You spread your legs a little more and re-angle your hips as you feel the mattress dip with his weight. The fit of his cock in your cunt is even tighter now that you’ve orgasmed, but the stretch happens a little quicker, a little more easily. He sets a punishing pace, and it’s all you can do to keep from screaming. Your whines punctuate each of his thrusts and grunts. You might actually cry with his cock inside you like this and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

As his chest fits to your back, Namjoon’s weight falls to his elbows on either side of your shoulders. One arm drapes along your own, his hand grasping your own, supporting him as he drags his cock inside you. He trails his other hand along the skin of your collarbone before he brings it to your face.

“Open.”

You do as he asks, letting your lips part. He presses fingers into your mouth, and you start sucking on them without even needing to be told. His skin is salty, rough against your tongue as you give him a taste of what next time could be like. The feeling of having him within you twice over is overwhelming.

“So good for me baby girl, such a good cocksleeve just for me. Daddy’s gonna fill you up so good.”

You might come again, just from this.

His pace quickens, the bed beginning to creak in time with the slap of his flesh on yours. The deep grunts and groans are getting a little higher as he hurtles closer to his end, your own sounds mixing in with the din. His voice is sinful in your ears. He’s telling you how good you’re making you feel and it has you tensing up to the point of snapping.

The second wave of pleasure is much smaller than the first. Instead of a great cresting movement, it trickles gently down the nerves in your legs, warming you through. Your cunt twitches around his cock, and finally, it seems it’s too much for him as well.

“F-fuck—"

Namjoon shudders and suddenly, with one last moan, his body stills as he empties himself inside you. His breath is ragged, his chest hard and tense at your back as it heaves with hormones and exhaustion.

Without the creaking of the bed, the slap of skin on skin, or the amorous moans, the bedroom seems strangely silent. All that can heard is the heavy pants of you and Namjoon as you both recover. It could be minutes, it could be seconds or hours; you’re not sure, but the heavy weight of him at your back keeps you grounded.

Namjoon rolls off of you. He’s already begun to soften some; when he pulls out, so too comes the gush. You shiver and whine at his abrupt absence, trying to block the spill with your hand, but some of it still slips past and onto the pillow. You hear him scrambling, and suddenly he’s back at your side with a towel.

“Sorry, didn’t plan that too well. I keep a clean towel in my bedside drawer for … well—"

You flinch as he presses the towel to you, body still spent and heated. You tuck your hand beneath his, and finally, you feel secure enough to turn to your side without feeling like you’ll spill everywhere. He helps you roll off the pillow and sets it aside, then lays on his back beside you with a sigh.

“Glad to hear you take jack-off cleanliness seriously,” you say quietly.

He pouts a little at your small jab, and your heart floods with feeling. It’s unexpected; you’re shocked at just how sensitive you feel both physically and emotionally. The pout was supposed to be cute but instead you’re just feeling so much and it’s beginning to spill out. Why is that? And what’s he going to think when he sees?

“I spill shit too sometimes, you never know when—" He stops. His eyes flicker as they register the sudden change on your face. “What’s wrong, baby?” His voice is softer now, and suddenly, he’s pulling you into his chest.

“Just feeling a lot I guess. Good things, some weird things too. A lot. It’s just a lot,” you sniff, letting yourself bury your face between his pecs so he can’t see you cry. They’re there, you reason, might as well enjoy them like he enjoyed yours.

“Yeah, it’s a lot. I should have come back and gone straight to cuddling. Aftercare is important after intense encounters.”

“Yeah. I just got the fuck of a lifetime. Need cuddles.” Your voice is steady, in spite of the tears falling across your face.

“Great. I love cuddling,” he murmurs, sincerely. His hands are moving in soothing lines up and down your skin. “Fuck of a lifetime, huh?”

“Yeah. Don’t let it go to your head. Or do! Just make sure you can keep up with any claims you make, if that’s the case.”

“Anything for you, baby girl.” You smile into his warm flesh, the pet name making you feel shy now that you’re no longer inhabiting that role.

For a moment, silence falls. And then Namjoon quietly picks the conversation up again:

“No one’s ever called me pretty before.”

“Really? Did you like it?” Your unoccupied hand is tracing mindless shapes into his skin with a fingernail.

“Maybe. Just not used to it, I guess.”

“Well, I meant it. You’re really attractive to me. When you took your shirt off, I got really intimidated, if I’m being honest. Lots of skin and muscles and then you’ve got those dimples even when you’re being shy.”

You’re not looking him in the face right now but you suspect he’s got that look of embarrassment again, judging by how quiet he’s gotten.

“I’m just … not really used to being seen as attractive,” he says quietly.

“Me neither. It’s okay.” The words seem hurtful, but you say them with a smile. You’re not interested in impressing anyone. You’ve now found a person you like who reciprocates your attraction to them, so you can say the words without feeling like the truth is a curse.

“You’re cute as hell, I don’t want to hear it. The way your boobs feel in my hands makes my brain melt.”

“That’s … an interesting way to put it.”

“Well you know, don’t really know what else to say about the sex because my brain melted early on, so …”

It’s lame really, but you can’t help but laugh, and laugh with him. This moment could go on forever.

“That said, before we talk more, you should get up and pee. Big dick means big chance of a UTI.”

“Mmmm,” you nestle further into his chest. “Don’t wanna.”

“And I don’t want to have to get up to take you to an Urgent Care tomorrow because it hurts when you pee.”

“Aw, you’d take me to Urgent Care?”

“Of course, but I’d also get to say that I told you so. Do you really want that?”

“Fair point. I’ll be right back.”

Jungkook’s glad he volunteered to stay sober the night before. He feels crystal clear, which, for a Saturday morning, is unusual but not unwelcome. He even got to drive Yoongi home after everyone else had had a few beers. They stopped for late night fast food and even made out in the parking lot between bites of nuggies. And then he got to stay the night at his place and spoon him!! Not even sex! Just some PG-13 making out and falling asleep together! Pretty fucking sick night, if he says so himself.

Nothing can get him down, not when he’s hydrated and moisturized and in ~like~ with someone. It’s nice to be able to breathe in the vile scent of romantic sex in his apartment and not have is stomach churn with either alcohol or jealousy. Not that he or Namjoon get laid especially often, but still. He’s walking into the unit on this glorious Saturday morning, and not feeling like he’s got to expel the contents of his stomach. That’s cause enough to celebrate.

It seems oddly quiet to Jungkook. It’s already 9 AM; normally Namjoon’s up by now, shuffling around and watering his plants while the coffee maker brews. Instead, he’s nowhere to be seen. Jungkook glances around. No discarded clothing, no new pots in the sink, no lingering coffee smell beneath the tang of fornication. Maybe you’ve gone out to brunch? That would make sense, he thinks. Joon can’t cook for shit.

It’s either that or you woke up with a UTI from his monster dick. Wouldn’t be the first time it's happened, and unfortunately for you, probably not the last either.

Ah, Jungkook’s so glad you two never came back. The smell in the apartment confirms his and Taehyung’s suspicions. If they’d stuck around for long after you’d left, they might’ve even caught the salacious sounds, but thank god they’d left to go meet Yoongi and Jimin for a few drinks.

He kicks off his shoes, noting that your own are still there, and pads through the apartment. No sounds are coming from the other side of Namjoon’s door, but he carefully tests the knob just in case.

Of course. Idiot didn’t lock it. He never does, and somehow still hasn’t learned.

Jungkook’s too nosy for his own good, and allows himself a little peak into his roommate’s bedroom. His heart warms instantly; Namjoon’s bare back is facing him, his arm thrown over you, holding you close. He’s snoozing lightly, and you’re still out as well, it seems.

Ah. Young love. You two seem to have sorted it out. Jungkook retreats and closes the door silently, before pulling his phone from his pocket.

jkay:: dude looks like they finally fucked

tae:: thank fucking god. wanna go grab bagels?

jkay:: ya. let me change my clothes and see if i can get orders out of the love birds

tae:: great, see you soon.

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work.Thank you.

posted: 6.9.2022

#btshoneyhive #namjoon fic #bts fic #namjoon x reader #plus sized reader #namjoon x soft-bodied reader #namjoon x plus-sized female reader #namjoon x female reader #namjoon fanfic #kim namjoon fic #kim namjoon fanfic #merry crisis yall #this is the most self indulgent filth I've ever written

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fear-of-flyers · 3 years ago

Text

enough to last a lifetime (part 4)

Owen Power x Fem!Reader

Word Count 1.8k

Warnings: pregnancy (nothing in detail but it's there), swearing, owen can't do math (lol)

Sometime later you woke up, still in Owen’s arms with his hand on your stomach, to the smell of food. You gently got up, to not disturb your boyfriend, and groggily made your way into the kitchen. To your surprise when you got there you found Kent washing dishes, a home-cooked meal plated on the counter. You took a deep breath and sighed appreciatively, unintentionally startling Kent a bit. “Shit, you scared me. Hungry?” Kent asked, turning the sink off and turning around. “Sorry, and yeah. What’d you make?” You responded. “Baked chicken thighs, mashed potatoes, and steamed broccoli.” Kent said, looking proud of himself, “I’ve been cooking a bit more recently, it saves money and is honestly kinda fun. You’ll be the first person besides Owen to eat my cooking. I’m excited.” You smiled listening to him, happy that he found something he enjoyed and that you could reap the benefits of his new hobby.

You walk to the couch and gently shake Owen awake, “Dinnertime love. Kent cooked.” You say softly, admiring how sweet he looks. “Huh?” Owen replies, sitting slightly up and blinking groggily. “Smells good.” You chuckle at his barely-there post-nap brain, “Yeah honey, Kent cooked.” You said again, smiling when Owen’s confusion morphed into a smile. He got up fully and grabbed your hand before making his way to the kitchen with you. When you got to the kitchen you found Kent putting the last of the plates on the table, water and each person’s other drink of choice (coke for Owen, and lemonade for you and Kent) already on the table. “Looks good, thanks dude,” Owen says, nodding towards Kent in appreciation. Kent smiles at the praise “Of course, we needed to eat and had stuff here. Someone was gonna have to cook and y’all were cute and sleeping. It was the least I could do.”

At that, the three of you sit down to eat and after gushing at the food and how good it was you settled into a good conversation. About halfway through dinner, Kent asked “Y/n, are you going to keep going to classes once you start to show? I know you want to keep it kind of private but I was curious.” You opened your mouth to answer before realizing that you hadn’t really thought about it beforehand. People on campus generally knew that you and Owen were together and while you doubted anyone would post anything about it you did know that you would get tons of questions and judgment. “I haven’t thought about that yet.” You replied honestly, “I haven’t even thought about telling my parents yet. Shit, Owen, we have to tell our parents.” At that Owen turned to you, eyes wide. Clearly, he hadn’t thought about it either. “Well shit, should we text them?” He asked. Before you could answer Kent gasped, “Text them?? Yes Owen, tell your parents that they’re gonna be grandparents over text. What a fine idea.” You laughed, truly appreciating Kent at that moment as Owen looked at you slightly hurt. “You’re laughing at me? Wow, good to know whose side you’re on babe.” He says, exaggerating a look of hurt, a pout pulling on his lips. “Owen, he’s right. We can’t just text them, love, I think they would fly up here to crucify us if we didn’t at the very least facetime them. We should look into sending them something though.”

“Send them something? Like a card?” Owen asked, clearly confused. You looked at Kent and laughed quietly (Kent wasn’t as nice), before saying “Maybe, but I was thinking something like an ultrasound picture when we get them, and a mug or something ‘grandparent’ they can actually use.” Finally, Owen said “Oh, that makes sense. Wanna go shopping after the appointment?” You nodded, “That works, we should think about exactly what we want to get, also we need to remember to ask for a bunch of ultrasound copies” At that, Owen looked confused, “Why do we need a bunch? Don’t we just need 3?” He asked. “I feel like Luke is gonna want one, oh yeah he knows by the way, also one for here and one for my dorm.”

“Can I have one?” Kent asked, effectively reminding the two of you that he was there “Of course, you can have one Kent, you’ve been so helpful during this.” You said before turning towards Owen again and going “See? People are going to want them.” Owen rolled his eyes fondly, grateful that the two of you had made up, truly excited for what was to come. Then he remembered what you had said a couple of minutes ago. “Wait, Luke knows? How does Luke know? Did Luke know before me?” He asked, confused completely. “Yes Luke knows and yes Luke knew before you. Babe, Kent knew before you.” You said, continuing on before Owen could talk again. “Luke was there when I found out, I needed someone to be there and I didn’t think I could call you. Then Kent found out because I hid the test in my hand towel drawer without thinking, I wasn’t planning on telling him until after you knew but it just happened that way. And before you get all pissy, don’t act like I was wrong for it.”

“But why would you call Luke instead of me?” Owen asked, looking hurt. “When I had to call someone I was so worried about how you would react that I didn’t call you. And you kinda proved me right, I’m not mad but hopefully, you can see my logic.” You responded, silently praying that this wouldn’t cause new conflict. Luckily, Owen nodded, “I get it.” He said, “I am truly sorry for how I reacted at first.” You smiled at him and moved your chairs closer to pull him into a kiss. At that, Kent stood up, chair scraping against the floor, and announced “You two clearly don’t need me anymore, I’m going to go do homework. I’ll see you later.” You pulled away from Owen and laughed (partly out of embarrassment) at Kent’s outburst. “Have fun with that Uncle Kent.” You say, delighting in the way Kent’s face lights up in reaction. “Oh my god I’m going to be an uncle. Okay, I forgive you, I’m still going to do my homework though. Bye guys, bye baby.” Kent said, the smile not leaving his face as he left the room.

As he walked away you turned back towards Owen, a smile on your face. “Dude, we’re going to be parents. Like what?” You said, laughing at Owen’s face as you called him ‘dude’. “Yeah dude. You’re gonna be a mom, a good one too.” Owen responded, watching you blush before grabbing your hand and pulling you into a hug. The two of you swayed back and forth in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes before you pulled back a bit saying, “Kent had the right idea with homework. I have a shit ton of stuff to do. Work with me?” You look up at Owen and he nods “Of course, I have stuff I need to do as well,” He replies turning towards his room. You trail behind him, grabbing a gatorade out of the fridge for each of you and a bag of pretzels to share.

“What do you have to work on?” You ask Owen, sitting on his bed and placing your supplies around you. “I have to finish a paper for Econ then I have algebra practice to do because I have a test tomorrow.” Owen says, groaning at the thought of math. “I thought that by choosing sports management I would have an easy out but nooo, here I am, taking fucking algebra. Anyways, what do you have?” You chuckle a little, opening your laptop to Canvas. “I have to submit mock lesson plans, and grade an example essay.” You respond as you open the document containing your plans. “If you want I can help you with the math after you finish your paper.” You offer, looking towards Owen for a response. “Oh my god, thank you.” He said “I don’t know why I’m so bad at it.” You laughed “It’s just how you are, it’s not a bad thing, plus, it’s fun for me.”

The next day you and Owen were out at lunch between classes, talking about your future. “Ok, I know I’ve said it before but this feels so real now. With our first doctor’s appointment tomorrow it’s all so much.” You say, looking across the table at Owen. “Is it too much?” He asks, looking back, face full of worry, “If it is, is there anything I can do about it? I can get Kent to calm down some.” You laugh softly, “You don’t need to get Kent to calm down, I’m good. But, I really appreciate it and I really appreciate you.” You say, leaning in to kiss him gently. “So, have you had your test yet?” At that, Owen groans, dropping his head onto the table “Why would you do that to me babe?” He asks, voice muffled by his arms “But no, I haven’t had it yet, it’s in 2 hours and I’m dreading it.” You rubbed his arm gently, “Do you have anything else before it? Because I’m free for another hour-ish and would love to help you study more if that would be helpful.” You offered.

“Would you really?” He asks, lifting his head off of his arms, looking you directly in the eyes, almost non-believing. “Of course I would love. It would be my pleasure.”

According to Owen the test went, “not completely shit” but that was behind you because it was finally Tuesday. You went to watch Owen practice because you didn’t have class and it would make travel easier. But, you found it hard to hide it from the boys because, while you were at practice sometimes you, and Owen, were never this excited. “C’mon Y/n, tell us what’s happening,” Briss said, looking at you with pleading eyes. Shaking your head you responded “No can do Briss. It’s top-secret for now.” He shot a playful glare at you and turned to Owen, gearing up to ask again, “No, Briss. We’re not gonna tell you. Plus, you’ll find out eventually.” Brendan groaned and turned around ready to give up when he saw the slight smile on Kent’s face. “Johnson, you know what’s happening. What’s happening?” Kent smiled wider, “Good things. That’s all I’m at liberty to say.” You laughed at his response, grateful for his ability to keep a secret when it was necessary. Briss was definitely not as happy but you let it go, knowing that this is a surprise he won’t mind waiting for.

#owen power imagine #owen power x reader #owen power #enough to last a lifetime #fear of writing #owen power fic #buffalo sabres imagine #<- it's fun and cool that I get to tag that :)))#my writing #hockey imagine

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h0tchner · 4 years ago

Text

go team hotchner!

pairing: dad!aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron is coaching jack’s soccer game & reader is in the crowd! aaron & reader are happily married, but another woman’s mean comments and blatant flirting makes the reader jealous. fluffy shenanigans ensue!

word count: 2.5k

includes: FLUFF, jack hotchner is the sweetest, you & aaron are married, jealous!reader, kissing, family planning, & AARON IN A GREY T-SHIRT

rating: 18+ (for VERY brief mentions of sex and a little smidge of cursing)

a/n: i wrote this for @ssahotchswife’s soft hotch saturday! this is my first published fic, so i hope y’all enjoy. PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

“Atta boy, Jack!” Aaron yells from the side of the field, clapping his hands as his son scores another goal.

Beaming, you holler from the benches along with the crowd. You watch as your husband jogs up and down the sidelines with ease, keeping up with Jack’s soccer team. It’s a stunning Saturday morning and you are thrilled to spend every moment of it with the Hotchner boys. Your Hotchner boys.

When they asked Aaron to coach the team, how could he say no? After losing Hayley, he promised himself that he would do everything in his power to be there for Jack. When you first started dating, Aaron was hesitant to introduce you to his son. It wasn’t because he didn’t want you in Jack’s life, but rather he didn’t want to scare you away. You were a 26-year-old NCIS agent and he was a 40-something FBI agent. You knew he had a son, you knew he was a widow, and you knew he was older than you: but you didn’t care. You loved him. It took a little coaxing to get Aaron to open up to you about his fears, but once he did, you assured him then and there that you weren’t going anywhere. He introduced you to Jack the very same day. Four years later, you and Aaron are stronger than ever.

The ref blows the whistle, calling a break. Aaron motions for the kids to huddle in. He squats on the floor to get on their level, enthusiastically whispering, walking them through the next play. Your heart swells watching him talk to the group of children. Aaron Hotchner, always the hero, the role-model, the leader. Gentle yet powerful: he was intoxicating.

Your eyes dart over his crouched figure; the soft, heather grey of his t-shirt clings to his broad shoulders. You draw in a breath, a memory of last night flooding your senses, remembering how you held on to those shoulders for dear life as he pounded you into the bed. You feel your cheeks blush red, and you look up to the sky, shutting your eyes to collect yourself. Damn. Even just the thought of touching him gets your blood up.

You open your eyes, letting your gaze travel back to Aaron’s body, admiring how good his butt looks in those black Adidas track pants. You bite your lip a bit, feeling overwhelmed with joy, knowing that beautiful man, inside and out, was all yours. God, what you wanted to do to...

“Damn he is HOT. Way hotter than the old coach. I think his son is on the team?” A woman’s voice rings out from behind you.

“Yeah, I think so. Did you hear what happened to his first wife? So sad, lost her when his son was little. Apparently he’s shacked up with some 20-something-year-old now.” A second woman’s voice chimes in.

“No way. Him? Married to that? He needs a real woman, not some child. A man that experienced should be with someone his own age. I’m gonna talk to him after the game, see what his deal is.” The first woman replies, voice dripping with venom.

“I think you should!” Agrees the second.

“Oh, I will. I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Snickers the first.

They both laugh as you sit frozen in your seat, blinded by a wave of anger and sadness.

Some child? Someone his own age? Their hurtful words pierce right through your heart as you furiously blink back tears.

The ref blows the whistle, and the team scatters back onto the field. The ladies cheer behind you as the game starts back up. It takes all your strength not to break down under the crushing weight of their conversation. You take in some deep breaths, mulling over their comments. You weren’t “some child!” You were a grown-ass woman! You had a job! You were a federal agent! You loved Aaron and Jack: they were your whole world!

As you continue to give yourself a mental pep-talk, the hurt begins to dissipate as you realize how stupid those woman sounded. They didn’t even know you, or Aaron, or anything about your relationship. In that moment, you tell yourself that instead of wallowing in self-doubt, you would stand up to them and make it known that you were the only one for Aaron.

Just like that: you begin to feel a bit better. You focus all your attention on Aaron and Jack, letting the game fly by. You ignore the ladies gossiping behind you, and, by the time the kids are lining up to give the other team high-fives, you had pulled yourself together and come up with a plan to put these ladies right back in their place. You just had to wait for the right time to make your move.

“Wish me luck!” squeals the first woman. You can feel her getting up from the bleachers behind you.

“Go get him, girl!” sasses the second.

You watch as the woman walks down the aisle, her straight blonde ponytail swishing as she goes. She’s wearing blue-jean shorts and a white lace top: an outfit you’ve seen before on a hundred women who looked just like her. In any other circumstance you’d applaud her efforts (girls supporting girls, right?) but this was your man she had her sights on. No way. Not a chance. She wasn’t going to lay a single pink manicured finger on him.

Aaron is talking to the ref and the other team’s coach when she taps him on the shoulder.

Oh HELL no. You think, frowning.

He turns around and gives her a small, polite smile. You can’t hear the exchange, but after a few moments, she sticks out her hand to shake his, laughing. Aaron curtly returns the shake and turns back to finish up his prior conversation; but, this time, the blonde woman puts a hand on his arm again, lightly pulling him away. Your blood begins to boil. She gestures to the pack of kids, now getting drinks and snacks from the fold-up table next to the bleachers. Aaron nods, pointing over to where Jack is standing, sipping on some lemonade. She puts her hand on his arm again and tilts her head.

You decide it has been long enough. It’s go time.

You walk down the bleachers, picking up the hem of your baby blue floral sundress so you wouldn’t step on it as you descended.

The woman is still all over Aaron, clearly flirting. Aaron’s arms are crossed over his chest, lips in a terse smile. It didn’t take a profiler to know that his behaviour screamed “get me out of here.”

You fluff your hair a bit, letting it fall loosely around your face. With confidence, your feet hit the soft grass and you head towards your husband.

“Aaron!” you call out, waving and smiling as you near him, shooting daggers at the blonde woman by his side.

The moment he sees you approaching, you watch his entire demeanour change.

“Y/N!” he grins, excusing himself from the woman.

She whips around to face you with a vengeance as Aaron scoops you up, tanned arms firm around your middle. He spins you around as you laugh, surprised, looking down at him with pure elation.

He sets you down and, before you have a chance to say anything else, grabs your face in his hands, crashing his mouth into yours. You throw your arms around his neck and card your fingers in his hair, kissing him with the same fervour.

You can practically feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It’s hot and dominating: something about winning a game makes Aaron primal and giddy. You certainly aren’t complaining.

He breaks the kiss and lets his hands fall to your waist, squeezing lightly.

“Congrats on the win, Coach Hotchner.” You smile as you brush a lock of sweaty black hair off his forehead.

“Couldn’t have done it without my favourite cheerleader, Mrs. Hotchner.” He winks, pressing a light kiss to your forehead.

“Oh yeah?” You prod, cocking your head, looking into his gorgeous hazel eyes. “Who would that be?”

“Hm.” He pauses, looking up pensively.

He wraps his arms even tighter around your middle and dips his head down, whispering one word in your ear: “You.”

You laugh, swaying with him for a moment, capturing his lips in another kiss. As you pull apart, out of the corner of your eye you watch as the blonde woman stands frozen to the same spot, mouth agape. You smirk, feeling satisfied and self-assured knowing your little scheme was a success.

Then, like a rocket, you see Jack running towards you with a mile-wide grin on his flushed face.

“Y/N! Did you see? Did you see me make two goals?” Jack exclaims.

“Yeah buddy, I saw the whole thing!” You capture him in a bear hug, kissing the top of his head. You ruffle his hair and kneel down, looking into his soft brown eyes.

“I’m so proud of you. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah! I love soccer!” Jack nods.

“You did a great job Jack.” Aaron says, helping you stand. He wraps an arm around your waist and looks lovingly down at his son.

“You’re our soccer superstar.” You add, glancing between Jack and Aaron with unbridled joy. “Now go! Go back to your friends!” You laugh, shooing him away, back to the group of sweaty 8-year-olds and their snacks.

You stand there with Aaron, snaking your arm around his back to match his around yours. You both watch as Jack bounds off. A quick glance to the side shows that the blonde woman is long gone, probably stomping back up to her friend to whine and call you more names.

“Is she gone?” Aaron murmurs into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

You stutter, “How... how did you?” You trail off in disbelief.

“Oh please,” he smirks, “I had to stop you from practically biting her head off when you walked over.”

“Aaron!” you yelp, mocking upset. “You should’ve let me at her.”

He chuckles, lips twitching into a smile as he quirks one eyebrow up. “I couldn’t have my wife fighting with the aunt of one of my players. It’d reflect poorly on me.”

“She called me a child. Said that you should be with someone your own age. I think that warrants a free pass.”

His joking manner stops abruptly at your declaration. “That’s ridiculous and you know it,” he furrows his brow, shaking his head lightly.

You reach up and run your fingers over his scrunched forehead, soothing the lines into something softer.

“I know,” you nod.

Aaron pulls you into his side, wordless. Fingers tracing lightly over your hip. You knew he was thinking the same thing: no matter what they said, you knew in your heart that you and Aaron were meant to be. Age be damned. He was yours and you were his: forever. Simple as that.

“Mmm,” you sigh, taking in the beauty of the moment. You smile at the clear sky, the fresh air, and the feeling of the man you loved, right by your side. You two watch Jack as he talks and laughs with the other kids. He looks so happy to be surrounded by them: a natural conversationalist. You can’t help but start to think about how he would be the best big brother in the whole world. It makes your breath hitch in your throat a bit.

“What is it?” Aaron gives your side a squeeze.

Of course he could sense when your thoughts began to wander. Aaron was a man of many talents.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You look up at him with a reassuring glance, returning the squeeze.

“Y/N...” Aaron trails off, hazel-brown eyes searing into yours.

Damn your gaze, Hotchner.

You look away, letting your arm drop from his waist and move to step away a bit: he grabs for your hand instinctively, keeping you next to him. His big hands engulf your small ones, fingers entwined.

You know he is still staring at you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him yet. Your eyes refocus on Jack.

“I was... I was thinking,” you begin. “I love you. I love you so much, no matter what anybody else says. And I love Jack like he’s my own.”

You breathed in, prepping yourself mentally for what you were about to say next.

“Jack is so good with other kids.” You continue, “He loves being social, being a teammate.”

You gather the strength to meet your husband’s famous glare.

“And watching you coach these kids? You’re so good with them, Aaron. You make every one of them feel special. You give 110% of your heart, and I am so lucky to be your co-coach in life.” You tell him in earnest.

“Aaron,” you carry on, emboldened, “I think it’s time we added a new member to the Hotchner team” you finish, searching every inch of Aaron’s face for recognition.

You watch as he takes in the information. After a few beats, it clicks.

“Y/N,” his expression softens, “Do you want to have a baby?”

You bite your lip and nod, eyes wide and hopeful.

Aaron nearly explodes with happiness; his eyes crinkle as he smiles down at you, unable to speak. And then, his warm body envelopes yours, solid but soft: unmistakably Aaron.

You let out a shaky laugh and bury your head in his neck, breathing in the smell of cologne and light sweat.

He pulls back a little, one hand tilting your chin up to look at him.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Does that mean yes?” you ask, in a small voice.

Aaron laughs again, letting out a sigh. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger on your cheek. You lean into his touch.

“Yes,” he says, giddy. “Let’s have a baby.”

The sound of children laughing fills your ears as you grab the back of his head and pull Aaron into a soft kiss. The kiss is full of promise: a gentle pact, sealing the deal. You and Aaron were going to have a baby. Jack was going to have a little brother or sister.

You pull away, arms still around his neck.

“I love you, Aaron.” You breathe out.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispers back.

Nobody on this planet could shake the bond you and Aaron had. Suburban soccer moms be damned.

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gridadimorte · 2 years ago

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random Sinclair brother head canons bc this movie is all I have thought about for months and I need to put these out there’s so ppl can agree w me bc I’m right:

-Lester is a pro w spicy food, like he’s that one white guy that will outdo you as a bipoc on spice level and put you to shame.

-I just know he’d love Thai food 😔

-bo however…

-bo thinks he has same taste buds as Lester, or at least he convinced himself that he does

-everyone at the table will warn him about ordering the hottest spice level even the waiter will warn him against it but Bo’s a fucking show off and he’s gonna suffer the consequences

-this man cannot do spice, I’m talking a lvl two has him sweating.

-one bite out of anything lvl 4 or higher and his head is in his damn hands.

- Lester has definitely tried to get bo to do those hot chip and noodle challenges and it’s def ended w bo dry heaving on the floor or threatening Lester through chugs of milk

- imagine taking these mfs to a Starbucks drive thru, lester is in the passenger seat, already knows what he wants, a pink drink w light ice ✨ or a dragon fruit lemonade

-Vincent is an artist so it’s only natural that he’s gonna go w a matcha drink, def an iced matcha latte but if he wants smth else I see him drinking chai lattes

-don’t get me started on Bo 🙄 it’s not gay to have caramel in ur coffee, like he’s not bisexual

- is gonna talk about how he ONLY drinks his coffee black, a barista’s worst nightmare

-but if it’s hot he’s gonna pretend like he doesn’t want any of those “damn fruity little drinks” (please get him a refresher or lemonade)

- I feel like Lester would like old school reggaeton despite not speaking Spanish

- All artists have one female vocalist that they worship, Vincent’s is björk. Definitely has a vespertine vinyl that was stolen from a victim’s bag, he’s absolutely hoping to “find” a post vinyl to go with it.

-crediting my friend for this one but Lester would absolutely love Waffle House 😭 dinner and a show

- tbh I really don’t see bo listening to a lot of country if any, maybe some johnny cash and a little Reba but I feel like that’s pushing it. I think his taste in music mostly stays within the rock and metal genres 😔 probably has the smallest music range out of all three brothers, sorry y’all </3

-bo has a cd and cassette playlist that he only shows people he likes, def nabbed some rare merch and cds from victims and you’ll have to pry them from his cold dead hands to touch them

-yes ik we can assume he mostly like nu metal and 90s metal/rock from the HoW soundtrack but I feel like bo def likes Black Sabbath too

-bo let me put u on she wants revenge 😩

- no one talk to bo if smth goes wrong in the kitchen, just mind your business (he’s just like me FR)

- dude cracks an egg just to get eggshell bits stuck in there and as soon as Lester and Vincent hear him sigh 🏃🏼‍♂️🏃🏻‍♀️ they’re out the kitchen

- Vincent’s fave insects r praying mantises

-Lester has crazy grilling skills but is not allowed to cook for his brothers anymore bc they’ve been secretly fed raccoon meat too many damn times (2x)

- Vincent makes the best pancakes and bo makes the best French toast 😤

- while they have jonesy and she’s loved by all three I think bo has a secret soft spot for little dogs

- bring him a small dog and he’s gonna talk about how he “doesn’t want that rat” but he’s gonna be buying them little sweaters and a nice dog bed within a day. Will even have the dog in his own jacket when it’s cold.

-got help w my sibling for this one, but if they played any video games these would be their faves:

Bo: duke Nukem (unironically)and doom

Vincent: postal and bioshock, I think he’d also enjoy the game ver of I have no mouth and I must scream

Lester: Turok evolution, I wanna say he’s insanely good at fighting games, probably plays tekken 3 and 4, but he never memorizes any of the character’s names so if you ever ask him who plays it’s “oh uhh that one fella with the fucked up eye”

-Lester kazuya and or hwoarang main

- imagine twitch streamer Lester 😭

-(sorry to any old school gamers my first console experience was a ps2 and I’ve never played on anything older </3 but I’d love to see yalls thoughts on their fave games considering they grew up in the 70s-80s)

- I already know horror movies don’t do a damn thing to the twins but imagine them playing a survival horror game together 😭 like the first outlast or even worse silent hill, them being in such a vulnerable and open position would freak them tf out

- the sibling arguing you’d hear over the ominous music coming from the tv bc bo refuses to let go of the controller and Vincent is angrily pointing and signing at bo like “no damn it you went the wrong fucking way you were supposed to go through the other door”

-bo will absolutely scream once or twice, Vincent will flinch violently or start panicking and trying to snatch the controller away from bo

- if you make them play just dance we all know Lester is gonna win

- imagine these bitches playing wii, bo would smack his brothers w the Wii remote on purpose 🤦🏻‍♂️

-pronouns n sexualities:

-bo: cis he/him and bisexual but doesn’t talk about it, doesn’t stop him from hitting on everyone regardless of their gender tho

-Vincent: he/they or they/he I cannawt decide but also bisexual

-Lester: He/Him I’d say Lester is cishet but there’s def times where he opens his mouth and it’s like……r u sure

That’s all I have so far but catch me adding onto this post over time 😏

#house of wax (2005)#vincent sinclair #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #these guys: lideraly killing ppl #me: here’s their top 5 fave animes #slashers #cupids headcannons

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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years ago

Note

Can I pick 3 numbers? 👀 If it's alright, Ari for 58, 28, 12 plz 🔥 If not, you can choose from those! Thanx

58) “Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

28) “If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”

12) “You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily.”

Mmhm, more Ari?!? This is gonna get extremely steamy.

Send me smutty prompts!!!

Smutty smut y’all so no minors!

You finally had a day off, and you managed to convince Ari to join you for a picnic.

The rest of your friends were working, but the two of you always had a good time on your own. Especially because your idea of picnic fare was three bottles of wine and some lemonade that may or may not have included an entire bottle of gin.

You were determined to finally seduce the bear of a man. You’d been dancing around each other for months and it was starting to eat away at you. Your fingers and toys could only do so much when all you wanted was to feel him split you open on what your were absolutely sure was his magnificent cock.

So you put on your favorite little sundress, the one that it was impossible to wear any kind of bra with, debated whether or not to actually put on panties (you eventually decided it would be a good idea since your were going to be outdoors) and were now sitting across from the god of a man as you did your best to ply him with alcohol so you could climb him like a tree.

You thought it was working, he’d been staring at you practically nonstop for the past hour as you talked about stupid shit. You would keep making little adjustments to the hem of your skirt, trying to keep yourself from smirking when you saw his eyes latch onto the extra few inches of exposed thigh you gave him. Or, you’d lean back on your arms and take a deep sigh, thrusting your chest forward and grinning into your drink when you saw a flush creeping over his face.

He still hadn’t made a move though, and the alcohol was making you especially bold. So you shrugged and rotated yourself until you were laying on your back with your head in his lap, giving him a jolt.

“What’re you doing, Y/N?” He said in a low voice, his body going absolutely still as you gazed up at him.

“I just wanted to do some cloud watching Ari.” You said, blinking at him innocently with big doe eyes. “But the ground looked so uncomfortable and your lap looked so inviting.”

“Really?” He said, giving you a calculated stare. “Cloud watching?”

“Of course, it’s such a perfect day for it.” You muttered, wiggling a little in his lap and trying not to grin when he let out a moan.

“Fucking tease.” He grumbled, and you knew you had him. “Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

“Who, me?” You sighed, stretching your entire body like a cat as his gaze raked over you and he groaned from deep in his chest.

He wrapped his hand around the back of your head and drew you up suddenly, crashing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. His tongue curled against yours in slow, smooth strokes as he drew you into his lap, his free hand drawing up the hem of your skirt so he could splay his palm over the curve of your ass and give it a squeeze.

You whined as he moved his mouth to trace the column of your throat, his lips soft against your skin as he pressed you into his lap, wiggling his hips underneath you until you could feel his cock hardening against your core. A moan escaped your lips as he sucked a bruise against your collarbone, the hand he had on your neck sliding over the curve of your shoulder and taking the strap of your dress with it.

“If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.” He murmured against your chest after you whimpered when he wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked it to a sensitive peak, slowly moving to do the same to its twin.

“Good.” You sighed as you arched your back to thrust your chest further into his face. “You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily.”

“Fuck.” He growled as you ground yourself against his crotch, his breath hitching in his chest.

That was the only warning you had before he had you pinned to the blanket, his teeth pulling on your lips as he shoved his hands under your skirt and ripped your panties off. You dug one hand in the collar of his shirt as the other moved to press his hips into you, his own hands moving to undo his fly as he was already trying to rut into you.

“Shit.” You hissed as he finally freed himself and pushed into you. “Oh my god.”

You bit your lips at the small sting you felt as he stretched you around his girth, his hips stilling once he was fully seated in you, trying not to come immediately now that he was fully wrapped in your wet heat.

“Jesus Christ.” He murmured into your neck as you wrapped your legs around his hips, somehow pushing him even deeper inside you. “You feel fucking amazing.”

He slid out of you halfway before slamming his hips forward at a brutal pace, really pounding into you as he leaned on his forearms which were framing your face. You started mewling untintelligibly as he fucked every single thought out of your head, his hips slapping against your ass furiously.

“I can’t believe how good you’re taking me sweetheart.” He muttered, watching you as your expression turned to one of pure bliss, your pussy clamping down on him as he brought you closer to your release. “Wanted to bury my cock in this pretty pussy for so long. Wanna feel you come all over my cock, can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

You started whimpering his name over and over as he gripped both of your knees in one giant palm and drew them up to your chest, his dick hitting every perfect spot inside you until stars were exploding behind your eyelids. One more grind of his hips and you lost it, your back trying to fold over on itself as your legs started shaking with the strain of your orgasm, your release squirting out of you and spraying all over his stomach as his cock twitched inside you.

“Oh, fuck baby.” He growled as he pulled out of you suddenly and started running his fist over his length desperately until he was shooting warm ropes of cum all over your ass, making you moan.

You hummed in satisfaction as he sat up over you, his fingers running all over your ass and pussy as he rubbed his cum into your skin.

“Fucking took you long enough, Levinson.”

——————————————————————————

A/N: 🥵🥵🥵🥵 I need to go take a shower after this one.

#natalie answers #smut prompts #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #ari levinson one shot #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x you #ari levinson #smut #eighteen plus #eighteen and over #do not interact if you are a minor

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adorethedistance · 4 years ago

Text

Errand Boy - Luke Patterson x Artist!Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injury (accidentally cutting hand with glass)

Words: 2549 (this is literally an unproofed stream of consciousness piece)

Summary: Luke is just as much of a deadweight shopping buddy as he is a helpful set of hands.

A/n: two fics? in one day? What the fuck is up y’all? I finished the bulk of my supplemental apps and now I’m churning out like three complete paintings a week. It's redonkulous. This seems irrelevant BUT based on my experiences this week, I got the inspiration for another artist reader so here we go again with the fluffy shit.

“We have a few important things that need to get done today. Do you think you can handle that?”

“No,” Luke answers while laying on my routinely made bed. He’s got my throw blanket over his whole body, curled up in the center of the mattress like a millionaire widow’s cat.

“I appreciate the honesty, but unfortunately for you, that is not an option,” I state without looking at him. I’m focused on the mirror in front of me where I’m adjusting my hair to the best of my liking. My concentration is broken by Luke rolling off my bed, grumbling nonsense before pressing his cheek on my shoulder, wrapping both arms around my waist to hug as much of me as possible.

“It won’t be that bad.”

“Promise?” He fake pouts, looking at me in the mirror.

“Promise. And we can come home and watch movies after.”

“Which movies?” Luke asks as if it’ll make a difference in his decisions.

“I don’t know. You can pick one and I’ll pick one.” He then pretends to think over the decision, but I can see the mischievous glint in his eyes that indicates he’s game.

“Fine, I’ll come with you.”

“I knew you’d come around. You have everything?”

“Have what?”

“Fair point. I’m ready to go when you are.” I grab my bag from it’s hook on the wall and beckon Luke over to finally exit my bedroom. Sliding his hands over the bulk of my hips, he sensually pulls me close to lean down and whisper over my lips,

“How about we make the most of the time we have without your parents in the house?”

“Nice try. I’m already violating their trust by letting you in while I got ready, so we gotta leave before they even know you were here.”

“Fine then. Be that way!” Luke jokingly complains.

“If you behave... maybe I’ll brave asking my parents if you can spend the night.” Luke’s smile practically lights up the room; lacing his fingers in mine, I tug him out of my bedroom and quickly out of the house.

The car ride is brief but entertaining as I watched Luke rap the entire section of Determinate from Lemonade Mouth. It ended all too soon when I put the car into park.

“Lowe’s?” He asks once I turn the engine off and begin gathering all of my stuff.

“Yes, Lowe’s. Come on.” His energy level has improved since we left the house. The rebound time is somewhat impressive for how strongly Luke will be in his emotions. It’s endearing if anything to watch him express himself in any way he can.

I gasp once I’m blasted by the cold air blowing through the frame of the automatic sliding doors. Luke bumps into me on accident as I was tugging him behind me slightly, and stopped abruptly in my tracks. I did so to survey the layout of the store in front of me. Grills, paint, refrigerators, garden, lumber, and finally out doors! I’ve spotted my destination and wordlessly tug Luke back into motion. He knows from prior… incidents… that breaking my concentration is just generally not a good idea, and he comfortably follows where I lead.

That’s another thing I love about Luke. His emotional intelligence is above average, and he’s very in tune with his emotions. He’s also in tune with my emotions even when my mind is so clouded I’m not in tune with them myself. It’s funny that he’s sort of an extension of my brain whilst simultaneously being air headed enough to leave his phone in the fridge for an hour.

I bring us both to a stop, confused after having lost my way. Sensing my hesitation, Luke then takes the opportunity to speak up.

“What are we here to get.”

“I need to find where they cut glass panes so I can ask for a scrap.” I don’t look at him while I speak, continuing to survey my surroundings, but I can sense he’s taken aback by my answer.

“Can I ask what for?”

“Oil paint gets absorbed into wood and plastic, so I need a small piece of glass to use as a palette. I figured asking for a piece of what they’ll throw away anyway is cheaper than ordering online.” Luke pauses for a moment before squeezing my hand twice to signify his intention, and we walk over to the corner where a woman a bit older than us sits behind a tall desk.

“Excuse me,” Luke speaks up. He’s leaning forward, resting his right forearm on the surface of the desk, and holding my hand in his left. And that’s another thing I love about my boyfriend. His nonchalant, ‘too cool for school’ demeanor frees him from any anxiety around talking to strangers. If I were alone I would’ve had to take five minutes just to think of what to say and build up the confidence to ask. Riding with Luke is a different ball game.

“What can I help you with, hun?”

“Do you guys have scraps from cutting glass?”

“...I’m sorry?” The service lady asks which ignites my anxiety that was previously alleviated by Luke’s presence.

“My girlfriend here is an artist and she was wondering if you had scrap pieces of glass that you cut for customers that she could use as a paint palette. She said something about how plastic absorbs oil paint.”

“I haven’t heard of that before, but I’m sure we have some pieces laying around that you can have.”

“I just need one,” I add softly to ensure she doesn’t bring me fifteen panes that I can’t take home. She nods and smiles before standing from her desk and going into the ‘employees only’ work area.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” He asks, prompting me to think for a moment.

“Being you, I guess.” Luke smiles. He’s fondly staring into my eyes, holding my right hand in both of his. He then laughs and brings my hand up to kiss the back of my hand. A gesture I’ve grown to like throughout the course of our relationship.

“You’re such a dork.” Then the service desk woman is coming back through the door she left from, and is carrying two different glass panes.

“Will either of these work?” Surveying my options, I choose the smaller piece in her right hand. In addition to her beneficiary efforts, she offers to wrap the piece for us so we can carry it out and not slice our hands off. I cordially noted that she didn’t need to, but judging by the fact that two eighteen year olds just walked into her store asking for glass, I figured I’d give her the peace of mind.

Once the piece is wrapped, I thank the woman profusely for all her help. Luke takes the glass from her and pretends to offer to carry it for me. In reality, I know he wouldn’t let me carry it if I said I could take it. I guess chivalry isn’t dead.

“Okay. Stop two is just a couple minutes down the road,” I say more to myself than to Luke. “Just set it back here,” I allocate space in my car for Luke to set the glass down gently, ensuring it won’t break.

On the way to the second location, Luke plays the newly recorded Sunset curve demo and asks for my opinions, sonically speaking.

“I don’t think my opinions hold much weight here. I just make the album art.”

“Is there any part of it that sort of jumps out as odd, or cool, or strange?”

“No, I think it all blends together really well. Although, you know me and how I’ll always advocate for a bigger boost on the bass.”

“Did you like my guitar solo?” Luke asks as we slide out of my card and into the craft store I brought us to.

“That was you? I thought that was Bobby.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“No, it’s really good,” I lead us to the very back corner of the store where the painting materials are, “I just didn’t think it was you.”

“You think whenever it’s really good it’s Bobby?”

“No, I just didn’t realize.” I then opt for a change in subject to distract Luke from the topic at hand. “Okay, I need your help finding two things. I’m gonna look for some paint colors, and you’re gonna grab me a fan brush and a round brush okay?”

“Okay! What does that mean?” Luke’s enthusiasm is never one to disappoint which makes me laugh.

“Fan brush is sort of self explanatory, the bristles are splayed out like so,” I gesture with my hands. “And a round brush is kind of but not really tear drop shaped. So the bristles will be the same diameter as the brush, but then it’ll come to a really fine point at the end. I need a small fan brush and a medium round, got it?” He nods, determined to retrieve the right items.

“Oh, and the different displays will have the skill levels on the side. Get the ones in the experienced/intermediate section, the professionals are a rip off.”

I then leave Luke to his own devices as I scout the various oil paints for ultramarine blue and silver. In roughly a minute, Luke is back with five brushes in his hands.

“Okay so you said medium but there’s like, ten different mediums, so I brought the ones that seemed the mediumest,” he holds them out so I can survey the different widths of the tools. I consider the size for a moment and consider the final product I’m searching for.

“That one.” I finally choose, slipping the object from between his fingers. Luke nods before heading back to the brush section to locate the ‘perfect’ fan brush, and return the rejected rounds. I return to my search and subsequently locate the correct blue and silver. Now finished, I quickly spin around to go join Luke in the brush aisle. When I turn the corner, Luke and I smack into each other abruptly.

“You okay?” I ask, hoping I didn’t impale my boyfriend with a paint brush. He nods and then a lazy smirk appears across his features.

“Come here often?” I shake my head at his goofiness and then take the brush from him so I can pay for it. The entire way to the register, Luke is reciting different pick-up lines at me and all I can do is roll my eyes.

“Do you have an extra heart? Because mine was just stolen.”

“That’s your worst one yet.” I redirect my attention to the cashier, “Just these.” After scanning the items, she reads me my total, and Luke continues to rattle off bad pickup lines.

“Do you know CPR? Because you take my breath away.”

“I’m sorry about him,” I say to the cashier as she hands me the small bag of our items.

“Men,” She sighs in both wonder and contempt. Mood. Grabbing his hand, I forcibly drag Luke out of the store before he can think of another pick up line. Once in the parking lot, he digs his heels into the ground, stopping in his tracks, and using the momentum of my walking forward to pull me back.

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” I ask as he wraps his arms around my waist to pull my body against his.

“I love you.” Incapable of refusing his stupid smile, I roll my eyes playfully.

“I love you, too, Luke. Now get in the car you dork.” Swiftly pressing a kiss to my cheek, Luke releases me from his grasp and practically skips around the car to climb into the passenger seat.

On the way to our last stop, Luke and I land on the topic of weddings and proposals. He said his mom had a collage book the size of a sears catalogue for her wedding before she and his dad even started dating. The idea of young Emily with a giant wedding binder at age fifteen is so sweet to me.

“Funny how girls don’t really change but just evolve over time.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mom had a wedding binder too. Now, every girl has a pinterest board for their dream wedding.” Luke is stunned by my statement and stares at me with a slack jaw.

“Every girl has a pinterest board?”

“Yeah. All of my friends do at least.” A brief moment of silence settles in the car, and then,

“Do you... have one?... Pinterest board?”

“I do…” I was hesitant to respond, unsure of whether or not Luke would be freaked out.

“What sort of things do you put on the board?”

“Everything you care about really. Like, everyone has a section for things like dress, ring, and cake. But anything else is dependent on the person. My friend is super into choosing her food displays and charcuterie type stuff, but I have a section for just floral arrangements.”

“Weird.” Luke sits back against his seat. He’s not freaked out persay, but somewhat in awe.

When we pull up to the last location, Luke seems rightfully confused. We’re in a nice neighborhood in L.A. that neither of us have been to before.

“This is mostly the reason I wanted you to come with me today. I bought a standing easel off Craigslist and I didn’t wanna get abducted so I brought you with me.”

“So we could both get abducted. Nice.”

“You’re like, hella ripped and you never wear sleeves so you’re here for show mostly.”

“I feel so loved.”

“Come on.”

Thankfully, the transaction was smooth and no one was in need of a missing person’s report. Luke, being the muscle I didn’t feel like using, offered/practically begged to carry the item to the car and set it down with the glass.

As I turn on the engine to head home, Luke looks at me as if humbly expecting something.

“What?”

“You said if I behaved you’d ask your parents if I could stay the night.”

“You want me to ask now?” He nods dumbly and leans in to kiss me before I call home. My mom answers on the third ring, connected to the speaker of my car.

“Hello?”

“Mom.”

“Yes?”

“I did everything I needed to today, and Luke and I are on our way home.”

“Okay.”

“We’re probably gonna watch a few movies…” Moment of truth, “Can Luke stay the night?”

The line goes quiet for a moment before she speaks again.

“Not in your room.”

“We’d set up on the couches.” I offer the solution, sharing a look with my antsy boyfriend.

“...If Mitch and Emily are okay with it.”

“We haven’t called them yet.” I glance to my right to see if Luke had already texted.

“Emily is okay with it,” he yells to make sure my mom hears over the ambience of the car.

“Don’t disrespect your mother like that.” The two of us laugh at her comment before confirming our ETA, and with that, she hangs up on us.

“You’re lucky I’m the favorite kid,” I tell Luke without taking my eyes off the road.

“And you’re unlucky I’m the only kid.”

***

A/n: this is a disaster mess messity mess but get it out of my WIPS please god.

Taglist: @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @curlybrownhairedboys @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @yikesgillespie @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean

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happysoldlady · 4 years ago

Text

Game Night - Ezekiel Reyes

a/n: sorry that I went MIA again. y’all know how it is. here’s this. I cried.

taglist: @woahitslucyylu @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @peaches007 @cocotheclown

You and EZ had been together for a little over a year, him being patched for a few months now. Most of the time the two of you were too exhausted to do much of anything but eat dinner and sleep. But once a month, at least, the two of you hosted game night for the club at your house. It wasn’t anything crazy, as all the members brought their wives and Coco usually brought Letty. It was something for all of you to do as a group that didn’t involve killing anyone, so everyone was on board.

You had taken off work early today, and then wasn’t scheduled for tomorrow and you thought that tonight would be a great night for the infamous game night. You had been cooking literally all day, as feeding the whole crew was a job in itself. EZ had made sure that everyone knew to be there around 7:30, so they could all eat with plenty of time to play whatever game they decided on. It was nearing on 6:30 now, and you had a little mix of everything. The large spread calling your name as the smells made for a delicious enticement.

You were keeping an eye on the rolls in the oven when you heard EZ’s bike pull up. You immediately smiled and peeked out the kitchen window to see him backing the bike up toward your garage so that all the other members could park with ease.

You cracked the oven open to see your rolls a crispy brown. You grin, grabbing an oven-mitt and pulling them out. You’re arranging them into a oblong bowl when EZ walks through the door, throwing his keys onto the small table beside it. He strolls into the kitchen and you swear you almost hear him moan at the spread of food.

“How long have you been cooking?” EZ asks, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter, watching you.

You place the last roll in the bowl, and then grab the cling wrap from underneath the sink to wrap around them hoping to keep them fresh for when the men start rolling in.

“Feels like forever.” You say, leaning to give him a sweet kiss before pulling the cling wrap out of it’s box.

You spend the next hour swatting at his hands, and then forcing him to go shower before everyone got there. You just hear the water turn on when you hear the first few bikes pull up.

You touch up your lipstick and then open the door to step out onto the porch to greet everyone. Angel, of course, is first, him planting a kiss to your cheek as he walks inside. Then, Coco strolls up your porch, with a less than enthused Letty in toll.

“Coco...” You greet with a grin, pulling him into a hug. You feel his jaw twitch as he bites back a smile. He also presses a kiss to your cheek and then strolls inside, stopping under the door frame to wait on Letty. She gives you a tight smile and a nod and you return it with a friendly grin, watching as they disappear inside.

Gilly jogs up the steps and pulls you into hug. “I’m gonna give you a hug while EZ isn’t around to get pissed about it.” You both laugh, and he presses a kiss to your cheek before he also walks inside.

You follow him inside to wait for the other members. Angel, Gilly and Coco always show up early so that they feel like they get first dibs on the food. You swat Angel’s hand away from the fried tortillas and then wink at Letty as she swipes a strawberry from the fruit tray.

“Boy scout in the shower?” Coco asks, leaning against a wall.

You smile and nod. “He should be almost done.”

Angel, Gilly and Coco all exchange a look before they’re rushing down the hallway to the bathroom to pester him.

You laugh and move the bowl of rolls to the end of the spread, and then making sure everything still looks fresh.

“No lemonade this time?” Letty asks. Her eyes are peering at you from the opening in the kitchen and you smile.

“You know, I forgot all about it. Do you wanna make some while we wait for the others?” You ask, walking to a cabinet above the stove and pulling out the lemonade mix.

Letty hesitates for a second and then nods. “Yeah, that’d be cool.”

You wave her over and show her how much mixture to put into the pitcher and then how much water. She nods, and then starts scooping. You smile encouragingly and then ask about her day. Of course she only gives you simple answers but you figure that that’s better than nothing.

“I fucking hate you guys.” You hear EZ grumble and you see the three of them shoving each other as they return back to the living room. You and Coco make eye contact and he looks proud to see Letty doing something productive.

“And I just fill the water up to this line?” Letty asks for clarification, holding the pitcher up to the light to get a better look. You hum and nod, pointing to the line in question. “Seems too easy.” She says, shaking her head, but she sticks the pitcher under the faucet and turns it on anyway.

“I like to stir mine as I fill it up, but that’s up to you.” You say, laying a spoon down on the counter. You decide leave her be, but as your turning to cross into the living room, she picks the spoon up and starts stirring.

EZ’s in a freshly ironed black t-shirt (thanks to you) and a different pair of jeans. His cut is folded over the back of one of the recliners as he ties his boots on.

“Well don’t you look handsome.” You comment, and the boyish grin he gives you makes you smile. He finishes tying his boots and then stands, giving you a short kiss. His hand lingers on your hip and there’s a familiar twinkle in his eye that you can’t wait to explore later.

“I don’t think y’all have time for a quickie.” Angel remarks, and then picks up the clock to look at for emphasis. Gilly and Coco both laugh but EZ just shakes his head.

The five of you sit in the living room and talk for a little while before Letty strolls in carrying two glasses of lemonade. She hands one to you with a proud look on her face.

“It’s not bad.” She says, taking a sip of her own and then looking at you expectantly.

You smile and then take a drink. “This is really good! Better than mine, for sure.”

Letty smiles proudly, lifting her head a little and then takes a seat next to Coco who gives her a soft look.

It isn’t much longer until you hear the motorcycles rolling up outside. You stand and smooth out your dress, and EZ pulls his cut over his shoulders. The two of you open up the front door and greet the older Mayans as the walk in, along with their wives.

Before you know it, everyone’s already eaten and are scattered across your living room with a handful of cards, and a drink. Gilly, Coco, Riz and Angel are all playing a game of poker. Bishop, Tranq, and almost all of the wives are focused on a game of rummy. And you, Letty, EZ and Creeper are playing monopoly. Creeper is losing badly and he’s already so deflated by Letty’s natural gift toward capitalizing that he’s not even putting up a fight anymore.

“Shit, man!” Creeper curses as Letty lands on yet another free parking. You want to be mad for your own game but you can’t help but feel at least a little responsible for the wicked grin on Letty’s face as she scoops all of the monopoly money towards her pile.

EZ’s been particularly touchy for most of the night. Little things. A hand on your back as you offer drinks. A helping hand when someone actually takes you up on your offer. A hand on your thigh while the four of you rotate through your monopoly turns. A kiss to the hairline when he catches you gleaming at a giddy Letty.

After most of the house clears out, and you’re waving goodbye to the slew of bikes rumbling down your street, you make your way inside to see EZ picking up beer bottles and paper plates, his hands balancing way too many. You smile, and rush over to him, praying to god he doesn’t spill any remains on your floors.

“You don’t have to do that, baby.” You say, taking some of the plates from his grasp to lessen the load. He shakes his head, and continues to help straighten up your house.

After most of the trash is picked up and the dirty dishes are at least near the sink, EZ’s focus turns to you. His hands slithering around your waist as your scrubbing one of the pans.

“Leave that for tomorrow.” He mutters, planting wet kisses up your neck. You smile and lean into him.

“If I do it now, then I don’t have to do it tomorrow, though.” You say, and you feel his chest rumble from behind you.

“Fair enough.” He sighs, and then picks up a sponge.

“What are you doing?” You ask, shaking your head. “You don’t have to do that. I got it.”

“If we both do it, it gets done faster.” He says, giving you a sly grin. So there the two of you are, in your kitchen, talking softly over the soapy bubbles as you wash the dishes and he dries them. And he’s right, in less than twenty minutes, the entire kitchen is cleaned up, and the dishes are put away.

You plop down on the couch with an exasperated breath, and EZ sits down next to you.

“Thank you for tonight.” He says, his eyes gleaming with gratitude.

“It was my pleasure.” You say, grinning. “But fuck, if I’m not exhausted.”

He laughs. “It’s because of Angel, isn’t it? Can’t get his own beer for anything in this world.”

“Definitely Angel.” You joke back, before leaning down to take off your wedges. Your ankles were definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

EZ’s quiet for several moments and when you look up, he’s staring at you. A very different look on his face and it makes your stomach drop.

“What?” You ask, your hand immediately swiping against your cheeks to check for anything.

You watch as he swallows, and then opens his mouth, “Marry me.”

You blink, mouth agape, and shake your head. “EZ, wha-”

And before you can ask him anything, he’s getting on a knee in front of you.

“I don’t have a ring because I just looked at you just now and realized that I won’t ever be happy if I don’t have this forever. So, we can pick out a ring tomorrow, but will you marry me?” He says, taking one of your hands into his own.

You’re crying. Of course you’re crying. “Of course! Yes!” You say, squealing as he lifts you off the couch, wrapping your legs around his waist. He buries his head in your neck, his strong arms holding you tightly against him.

“I love you so much, Ezekiel.” You whisper, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips through your tears.

“I love you, Y/N. I can’t wait to be your husband.” He whispers back.

#ezekiel reyes #Mayans MC #mayans fx #mayans drabble #ez x reader #ez reyes #ez reyes imagine #mayans imagine #soa imagines #sons of anarchy

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babbushka · 4 years ago

Note

Hello my beautiful friend! I’m super emo about the “I’ve loved you all my life” from the friends to lovers list. Just picturing Clyde saying that to me? I’m dead. Love you so much! ✨❤️

11, The thought of Clyde coming in home sweaty during the summer after a hard day, his hair tied up, exhausted and needy?? PLEASEE 🧎‍♀️

(2.1k, fluff & NSFW (handjobs, fingering, come-shot, messy sloppy sweaty outdoor semi-nudity/indecent exposure lol)

When Clyde’s heavy footfalls creak onto the front porch, you have to throw a concerned glance at the clock hangin’ up on the wall. He’s ain’t even been here for an hour, you had just put down the big tray of ice cold lemonade and fresh made sandwiches, surely he can’t be leavin’ already?

You turn to look at him when he pats one of the support beams of your porch, and your heart races, because no no no, you’d just started to settle in and watch him cut your lawn, watch him get all sweaty and glistening in the sun, you don’t want him to go yet.

“All finished darlin’.” His deep voice is shy as he pulls the trucker cap off his head, runs his fingers through his hair. He’s smilin’, and you don’t know why, when him bein’ finished means he’s leavin’.

“Wait really? Already?” You protest just about right away, and that smile only grows wider, more confident. It’s a good look on him, on Clyde, a real good look.

“It’s real hot out there today, I figured I’d finish up quick as I can so…” Clyde shrugs, looks away and scratches the back of his neck.

“So?” You encourage, unprepared for the heat behind his eyes when he replies,

“So I could come over here and be with you.”

Clyde has been mowin’ your lawn ever since y’all were teenagers. You two were childhood best friends and you’re pretty sure that Clyde’s the only boy you’ve ever held onto after all these years. All the other ones turned into asshole preteens and even meaner adults, so slowly one by one you cut them out of your life, blamin’ growin’ apart. You and Clyde never grew apart, and in fact, the years have been good to y’all, made you grow together instead.

It’s been about fifteen years since he started comin’ over on Sunday mornings, strikin’ up a deal with your folks to mow your lawn for some honest cash. Especially after the stint in juvie, Clyde felt it was the most important thing in the world to prove to them he was a decent man, one worthy of spendin’ your time with.

Even when you moved out of your parents’ house and got a little home of your own – a home closer to Clyde’s own trailer no less – he kept comin’ to cut your lawn. He stopped acceptin’ your money, and instead traded that for payment of lunch.

But recently…he ain’t even been eatin’ your lunch. Just a glass of lemonade and then back home he would go, these past few weeks. It had started to break your heart, why he was actin’ so strange, so distant. Clyde ain’t distant now, not with how he’s standing on your porch.

“You look thirsty.” You swallow around a suddenly dry throat of your own, blinkin’ real fast when he clears his throat and nods.

“I’m parched, baby.” Clyde replies, and something, something about that does something to you. It gets your hopes up, gets your heart racin’, because he’d called you a lot of thing over the years, but never that.

“Call me baby again.” You say, standin’ up from the porch swing, taking a step closer to him.

Clyde follows you, takes the invitation and strides across the porch until he’s merely inches from your face.

“Baby,” Clyde presses his good hand up to your cheek, rubs his thumb along the ridge of your cheekbone, “Baby girl. You’re so beautiful.”

“Am I dreamin’?” You blurt out, but Clyde only chuckles, the most handsome sound in the world.

He kisses you, instead of answering.

You had thought a million times, about what it would be like to kiss Clyde, and none of them ever could’ve amounted up to this; to the sweet salty tang of sweat on his tongue, his goatee soaked through and scratching against your smile, his eyelashes brushing against your cheek where his eyes are closed, his arms wrapped around you tight.

He makes the softest sweetest sounds when he kisses you, grunts and groans low in his throat as he backs you up up up against the wall of your house. Your arms have wound themselves around his neck, and you could cry – maybe you are crying – because if this is a dream, well it’s one you don’t ever want to wake up from.

“Touch me.” You demand, because you’ve wanted to say it for so long, and he’s quick, so quick to oblige.

Clyde hikes up your breezy skirt enough so that he can shove his hand underneath your panties, and he groans when he finds your pussy already slick, already wet and wantin’ him. Of course it wanted him, all of you did, have been for the past however many years you’ve been pinin’ for him.

One of your legs immediately lifts to hook around his waist, and he swallows your moans when those fingers of his wriggle between your folds and push up into your cunt, your head thudding back against the wall. He sucks on the expanse of your throat, bites and bruises it.

“Ah – ah, Clyde, oh that feels good.” You breathe, careful not to be too loud. You’re outside, right there on the front porch, and even though you got some pretty trees to shade the house and give some cover, ain’t nothin’ was there to stop the noises y’all made.

“Damn darlin’, I wish…wish I had both hands to touch ya with.” Clyde kisses you with a frown, his hips rutting against your thigh.

“That’s okay, shh, it’s okay let me, can I…?” You don’t even think about it before you’re poppin’ open the buttons on his jeans, wantin’ to get your hands on him the same way you’ve imagined every night.

Clyde nods, so eager, lickin’ his lips and suckin’ the sweat off your cheek when it rolls down to your jaw. You pull out his cock and damn it’s big, even bigger than you imagined, you feel dizzy, feel overheated, overwhelmed in the best possible way.

Spitting into your palm, you slick up his cock and stroke him up and down up and down, firm grip twisting right at the head and makin’ his knees buckle. He braces himself against you, moves his fingers in time with yours, rubs lazy circles at your clit and crooks three of his huge fingers inside you, searchin’ for that spot he knows will make you come.

“That’s real good baby, y-you can go faster if you’d like.” Clyde kisses you and kisses you and kisses you, and you gasp and moan and sigh around his tongue, mindful of the noise, but consumed with pleasure. He’s smelly, covered in bits of grass and sweat, and you wouldn’t trade it for anythin’ in the whole world.

“I’m burnin’ up in this thing Clyde I-I’m gonna take it off.” You pant, your blouse stiflin’ from the lack of breeze.

Clyde does pause then, making you whine loud enough for him to smile at you and keep goin’ real slow.

“Out here?” He asks, lookin’ around. The big trees block the view from the neighbors, but that don’t mean no one could drive by, or walk their dogs, or or or --

“Uh-huh, would you like that? Wanna see my tits in the sunshine?” You bite your lip, bat your lashes at him, wantin’ him so desperately. You don’t know if a chance like this will ever come again, you don’t know when you’ll wake up from this dream, you want to take advantage of it while it’s here.

“Anyone could see, anyone could look and see you.” Clyde nods anyway, and his eyes go wide as dinner plates when you swiftly undo all the little buttons, down to where your blouse is tucked into the skirt that Clyde’s got his hand shoved up under. Your bra is front-claspin’, and you undo that too, until your breasts are exposed fully for him.

“Then you’re gonna have to cover me big bear, cover me – yes!” Your eyes fall shut and your mouth drops open, grindin’ your hips down onto his hand.

“Ohh fuck,” Clyde’s fingers up your pussy fuck you a little harder, a little faster, and you grin, wrappin’ your hand around his cock once again and matching his rhythm stroke for stroke.

You’re both so sweaty that you have to constantly readjust yourselves against the wall of your house so that you don’t go slippin’ and slidin’ down. Clyde looks like he’s almost in pain, so overwhelmed with the way you feel, how your pussy clenches and drips and drools all over his hand, his wrist.

He sucks and kisses at your breasts, licks up the sweat that runs between them, your nipples so sensitive and stiff when he tugs them between his teeth. You want him to fuck you properly, want him to shove that cock of his into your pussy and fuck you on the wooden floor of the porch right there, but he grunts and sighs and groans, pressin’ his body as close against yours as he can.

“I’m gonna come,” He whines, not wantin’ it to be over just as much as you, not wantin’ this to end.

“On me, I want it on me, all over. Please give it to me, please?” You beg, soft gentle whimpers as you hike your leg up higher higher higher, until it’s slung over his shoulder, your body stretched out all over.

He nods frantically, before he lets out a shaky moan and paints your tits with his come. It’s hot and sticky, landing on your skin in thick ropes. Your hand that isn’t around his cock leaves Clyde’s hair and rubs through it, smears it into your flesh, across your stomach, over your tits. He has a big load, comes some more, it hits your chin, and you swipe it up with your fingers, sucking the taste of it away.

“A-are you close?” Clyde blinks the sweat out of his eyes, rubs harder, faster, thrusts and presses and pinches and rolls and your lids are snappin’ open just in time to watch him stare love-sick at you, big brown eyes.

“Yes, yes I’m – oh I’m – !!” You come and it feels like your body is on fire, a hot wire snapped up, pulled real taut, before you’re meltin’ into his arms, chest heavin’, pantin’ out words that you never thought you’d get to say in a million years, “I love you, Clyde – fuck I love you!”

All at once, he goes real still.

“What?” Clyde blinks, lookin’ like he’s been struck by lightnin’.

He carefully, gently, lowers the leg that’s been thrown over his shoulder.

“I’ve loved you all my life.” You’re still blissed out, still on cloud nine, have no qualms about bein’ truthful, not with your Clyde, not when now you ain’t so sure this isn’t a dream. “Surely…well surely you knew that.”

“I…no I – ” He stammers and stutters and the cold drip of rejection begins to fill you with dread.

“Shit, I’m sorry I – ” You’re painfully aware of the way you’re both standin’ there on your front porch, your tits out and his dick out, covered in come and sweat and you feel like you’ve just royally monumentally ruined everythin’, until he looks at you.

Really looks at you.

“I love you too.” Clyde confesses, and suddenly it’s as if all the fear in the world leaves at once.

“You do?” You whisper, searchin’ his gaze and findin’ only honesty.

Clyde smiles, one of those rare smiles o’his, and tucks your blouse back into place, puts his dick away and buttons himself up.

“Why d’ya think I kept agreein’ to cut your lawn?” Clyde asks softly, so quietly, and you’re slammed with the realization that maybe…maybe he’s loved you for just as long.

“Thought I made real good lemonade, that’s all.” You reply, and the two of you laugh, because damn, how could love make y’all so blind? With the glow of orgasm fading, and the reality of this bein’ real life setting in, you reach for Clyde’s hand askin’, “What do you suppose we do now?”

“I don’t know about you darlin’, but I’m in sore need of a shower.” He says, smilin’ at you and makin’ you smile right back, before squeezin’ your hand and sighin’ real content-like, “And after that…let me love on you some more, and make up for lost time.”

You kiss him, and he kisses you back, until you’re pullin’ him into your house and up through to your bathroom, more glad than you’ve ever been that he finished cuttin’ your lawn early.

#clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x you #clyde logan/reader #clyde logan/you #logan lucky #adam driver fanfiction #adam driver character #clyde logan smut #clyde logan imagine

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vesuvian-american-fics · 3 years ago

Text

Something Entirely New Ch 13

Familiarity

Pottery class!!! (AO3)

Words: 1,585

The first week of the festival came and went as swiftly as the passing spring breeze, a blur of laughter, smiles, and newfound happiness. Stolen glances, interlaced fingers, baked goods and lemonade were a daily occurrence the past week. Muriel found peace in that, the daily routine that came about.

“So, this week, the festival merchants have a lot of artsy classes to attend!” Asra chirped, lightly drumming his fists against the dining room's handmade table. Muriel frowned at the way his glass of lemonade threatened to topple over with Asra’s movement, gently he held the cup firmly in his hand.

“Classes?” He grumbled, not too fond of the idea of taking classes during what was meant to be a leisurely vacation.

“Classes like what?” You chimed in, sensing Muriel’s unease.

“Pottery, woodwork, more painting-–” Asra counted off on his fingers, an excitable expression lingering on his features.

“Woodwork? I already know that much...” Muriel commented, taking a sip of his drink to busy himself.

“Like whittling or furniture making?” You asked, your eyes scanning over the way Asra’s shoddy table wobbled on its uneven legs.

“I’m familiar with both.” He responded plainly, though a foreign sense of pride bubbled from within him.

“Muriel can teach you whittling, Y/N.” Asra grinned, once again playing as Muriel’s wingman. Muriel spluttered into his cup before clearing his throat.

“I– I can... if you want...”

“I’d like that! But I am interested in this pottery class! Are you two ready to head out for the day?” You ask, smiling at the two before you. Asra hopped to his feet and was already heading for the door. Muriel silently stood on his feet, the floor creaking beneath his weight.

With that, the three of you head out into the sun to learn some pottery!

...

“Oh! Three friends looking to learn the trade of pottery, eh? Come in, come in! Have a seat, have a seat!” A short man spoke, his thick mustache wiggled animatedly as he spoke. His voice was gruff and wheezy, yet he sounded so friendly and welcoming as everyone else you came into contact with at the festival.

“I’m glad y’all made it! With the heat out here in the desert, pottery is a very common trade! Seldom ya find anyone who doesn’t know how to make a few clay pots or so!” He laughed whole-heartedly leading your party in through his shop. Besides the path to walk about his place, there wasn’t a square inch of any surface that didn’t have some of his work on display.

“The names James! Been doing pottery since I could hold a spoon, I reckon! There’s not a memory in me without some clay involved! Ya came to the right guy, ya did!” He said proudly, puffing out his chest and putting his large hands on his hips.

You and Asra smiled fondly at James’ energy before introducing yourselves.

“And this is Muriel.” Asra said, smiling back at the gentle giant who awkwardly stood in the doorway avoiding eye contact.

“Nice to meet ya! As I said, everyone here knows a thing or two about clay! It’s yer lucky day Muriel, just us four in shop!” James noted the way Muriel’s body untensed at the realization, his smile widening.

“Welp, grab a seat will ya! Let’s get started!”

After a few hours waned of James bouncing around from topic to topic while he was supposed to be giving you all instruction, the three of you finally got the gist of what to do and got started. Unsurprisingly to Muriel, you and Asra seemed to have a natural affinity for clay making. His eyes stayed more on your clay vase than his own. Yours was tall and curvy, delicate and he imagined how nice it would look after painting it and setting some flowers inside.

Asra’s vase was cylindrical free of imperfections, looking as it it was done already and they only just started. Asra’s tongue was poked out of his mouth in focus, his brows furrowing in concentration as his vase spun and was molded by his touch. Muriel’s eyes lingered just a tad longer on Asra’s lips before your head poked into view.

“Muriel? You okay?” You asked, voice small but Muriel heard you loud and clear. He huffed before turning back to his own vase. It was wobbly and misshapen, limp and leaning off to one side like a withering plant.

“My hands are too big for this...” He mumbled, a defeated pout on his lips.

“No no, here let me help.” You said, leaving no room for protest, you kneeled in front of him, the potter’s wheel separated the both of you. Gently, you placed your hands on the outsides of Muriel’s, adding just a bit of pressure to keep his hand steady against the clay. You nodded up to him and a flustered Muriel hurriedly tapped his foot against the pedal to get the wheel spinning once again. A prominent blush formed on both of your faces at the touch of your hands.

“H-how do you want your vase to look?” You asked, keeping your eyes on clay as you anxiously chewed your cheek.

“Big enough for a few succulents. So, I guess, short... w-with a wide mouth and round please.” Muriel informed, and with that you used your thumbs to push his inside of the clay to form the mouth. You remained silent for a few minutes while you focused on forming his pot. He chose the perfect design and unbeknownst to him, his large hands were ideal for this idea.

By now, Asra’s vase was done and he was sliding the wire underneath to separate the clay from the wheel. He smiled at your moment with Muriel, James was tinkering away with his own brand-new pots that just came from the kiln. Seeing Asra’s finished work he hopped over to retrieve it and ready it for the kiln. Asra whispered a thank you before sliding over to your seat and getting to work on your vase. He could already see the look you were going for so while you helped Muriel, he helped you and finished your clay.

After about ten more minutes of forming, you were satisfied with the look. Sure, it had a few bumps and lumps but that was endearing to you. The moment you pulled your hands away Muriel missed your touch; you missed the feel of his hands under yours too but you were afraid of making him uncomfortable since you no longer had the excuse to hold him.

You chuckled shyly, wiping the concentration sweat from your forehead before turning to Asra to thank him for finishing your vase.

“Thanks, Asr–”

“Pffft HAHAHA!” Asra’s choked laughter cut through the air, you stared at him quizzically before turning to Muriel, only to see that his mop of hair hid his face from view but you could tell by the jump of his broad shoulders that he was silently laughing as well.

“What?” You asked with a small whine to your voice.

“You’ve just got, haha, you’ve just got some clay on your forehead now!” He said through peals of laughter, your face reddened a shade before you began to laugh a bit at yourself.

“Here.” Asra said, pulling a handkerchief out from his bag and wiping away at your forehead. He smiled fondly at you, his violet eyes crinkling with the smile. You blushed faintly at the proximity. His gentle touch at your forehead, how close he got so suddenly, his smile, and the way his eyes locked to yours. Asra was bewitching as always.

Muriel smiled fondly, his own cheeks dusting a rosy hue at the view. The two of you smiling and laughing together, the fact that two weeks ago he would have claimed to hate the sight and be jealous of you. But now, it was so much easier to just be honest with himself. He was happy to be here, and be a part of the moment. So much so he wasn’t surprised when Asra turned to him and used his handkerchief to dab away the concentration sweat that lingered on Muriel’s face. He nuzzled into the touch minutely, humming at the tenderness of Asra’s actions. The familiarity of his affections.

James smile at the three of you while he silently slipped away to make some tea for you all. James was back within the next few minutes with four steaming cups of jasmine tea and a hearty laugh spilling from his lips.

“Here ya go you crazy kids!” He announced, hopping through and setting the cups in front of you all. The four of you drank your tea while James shared story after story, your clay vases warming in the kiln all the while. An hour passed before James stood with a stretch, popping of his joints resounding through the cluttered space.

“Welp, yer vases won't be done til the morn. Come back then and you can pick up and paint em next door if ya like!” He offered, and with that, the three of you stood and waved goodbye.

“He was fun.” You commented playfully in a sing songy voice.

“He was energetic.” Muriel added, sounding a bit tired.

“Let’s go home and get some sleep, we ended up spending the whole day there!” Asra laughed, noting the way James chattered throughout the morning. You smiled wistfully, committing the day's events to memory. Never do you want to forget these times.

#the arcana #the arcana game #Muriel #asra #mc #something entirely new update #something entirely new #muriel x reader x asra

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sitabethel · 3 years ago

Text

Fic tag game, and I was tagged by @rochelle-echidna, @isisishtar, and @ninjam117

1 - how many fics do you have on ao3?

Like any good Suikoden protagonist, I have 107 Stars of Destiny in my castle

2 - what’s your total word count?

2,445,507 (Daddy...Imma get that to 2.5 mill by the end of the year. Watch)

3 - what are your top fics by kudos?

The Lemonade Stand

Out From the Cold

King of Thieves

Safe

Talk Dirty to me

wtf, y’all. The puppyshippers are giving out more kudos than the thief stans. Shame. Shame. Talk Dirty To Me isn’t even a fic??? It’s an RP supersteff posted for funsies???

4 - do you respond to comments why or why not?

Most of the time (as long as I’m not overwhelmed with life). Responding to comments is how I’ve made most my friends in this fandom, so A++ would recommend.

5 - what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Definitely Three Nights. My only fic w/a sad ending (which is why I wrote Three More Nights b/c I couldn’t handle having a sad ending. I had to fix it.)

6 - what’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I honestly couldn’t say. I’m here to have a good time and to make sure all my favs also have a good time, so I’m always actively trying to give them the happiest possible endings.

7 - do you write crossovers?

Nope.

8 - have you ever received hate for a fic?

I sure the hell have

9 - do you write smut? What kind.

ROTFLMFAO

10 - have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes. It was kinda funny b/c out of all the fics, it was “Me” a 5k deathshipping one shot that is one of my least popular works. But like...I don’t really think they were *trying* to steal it so much as homage it? But they were too young and unskilled to know how to rework something properly, so it was almost an exact copy of my fic. I tried to go over it and show them how to rewrite parts in order for it to be more original (Like, you can give YM piercings, just don’t give him the exact same piercings. You can have YM play with his hair/clothes/presentation in order to explore his identity, but pick different things that are more unique and how *you* would imagine YM being as his own person, instead of just copying exactly what I did).

11 - have you ever had a fic translated?

There’s an Italian version of Storm of White on ao3 (go kudo bomb it!)

12 - have you ever co written a fic before?

Lots! I love colabs <3 The last one I did was Conspire With You, but there was also A Way Home, and I’ve co-written a few things with SuperSteffy. Please support all the other writers who worked hard on these fics with me! (kudo-bomb the hell out of them)

13 - what’s your all time favorite ship?

*Cries in polyamory*

I can’t...choose one. Thiefshipping and Deathshipping were my first favorites, but like...damn, Kingshipping and Trapshipping have honestly ruined me. And Arrestshipping...Euroshipping...Rustshipping...Boundshipping...LISTEN!!! If it’s any combination of Seto/Atem/Yugi/TKB-YB/Ryou B/YamiMa/Malik it’s my favorite, okay? I’m a dragon who hoards ships. Especially polyships. I will literally froth at the mouth at any combo of those 7. Now let’s move on to the next question before I add more characters to the list........

14 - what’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

That demon/angel au I was working on years and years ago. A shame, since I think there was a lemon that spilled into 3 chapters in that and it’s what Bakura deserves, but the plot was just...meh.

15/16 - writing strengths and weaknesses

Strengths: Dialogue, sometimes imagery, projecting the right trauma/personality traits on the right characters in a way that can make scenes relatable/authentic.

Weaknesses: I can be lazy with some plot points b/c it’s fanfiction, and I’m only here to have a good time, so eff it. And I will absolutely “sum up” certain chapters in order to finish a story at 80% potential. Anons used to get on my ass about this, and some commenters too, but I refuse to repent of my hasty ways. I write a lot of stories, and sometimes it’s better to get 3 80% stories out instead of one 100% story (for me. absolutely nothing wrong with ppl who want to write their best all the time. Like, mad respect to those peeps). Anyway, the ppl who complain are 100% accurate, right, and valid, but again, If you call me out on this I’ll just shrug at you and remind you of my commission prices b/c I’ll be happy to personally tailor a story for any angry anon-- if they want to put their money where their critique is *blows kiss*

17 - what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Depends on the context and how it’s used.

18 - what was your first fandom you wrote for?

FFVII, but I never posted any of it thank god

19- what’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written?

I honestly love so many of my stories. I honestly re-read my own stuff all the time for comfort/self-care. I especially love a lot of the more intense, emotional pwp one-shots. It’s extremely difficult to pick one, but let’s go with humor and link

Measuring Up

Gotta love Bakura’s monster **** And the interaction involved with writing that story made it so much more fun. I really miss the days where you could slap a vote on tumblr and get a lot of responses, and dammit I miss Abby throwing random things into my ask box (like Bakura’s monster ****)

Not going to tag anyone, since so many ppl are in the same little thiefshipping circle and I’d probably just accidentally tag a lot of ppl who have been tagged by others already.

#fic meme #long post #tag stuff #tag game

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hearteyesbowen · 4 years ago

Note

hey can you do a joshua imagine where the reader is having a really bad day and he just comforts and spoils her? thank u sm

hold me closer ☆ joshua bassett

josh decides there is only one logical thing to do when y/n is having one of the most stressful days of her life

warnings: fluff

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Soft tunes coming from your car radio ran through your ears, your head leaning back against the headrest. You had already ran out of tears, now you just sat restlessly, focusing on your breathing and calming your heart rate. Your forehead and cheeks were damp, you couldn’t tell if it was sweat from the heat radiating through the vehicle or from the cries wiped across your face. Strands of your hair lay in different directions, mostly because of how much you shuffled it in your hands out of frustration.

It had been almost an hour since you came home from school, the day filled with anger-inducing teachers giving lectures and annoying classmates who couldn’t let you focus on your own work. Homework assignments and class work with no decent explanation on how to answer being piled on top of each other, and a pop quiz that you barely understand and bombed completely. At least it’s friday?

Pulling out your phone, you stared at your lock screen for a few seconds before it turned back off; it was Josh sitting on a tree branch, waving at you with his signature smile. A small smile swept across your face, then with a loud huff, you decide to text him.

Y/N

can i come over? i’m not feeling too great

Within a few seconds, you saw his name pop up onto your screen with a loud ding.

Joshy 💕

you don’t have to ask, hurry up!

You grabbed your backpack that was thrown into the passenger’s seat and opened your door. Fumbling with the keys in your hands, you unlocked your front door and trudged to your room. You left your school backpack by your bed and looked for your other bag. You didn’t have to worry about bringing extra clothes, some of yours were left at his house in case you wanted to sleep over. Before leaving, you told your mother you would stay at Josh’s house for the night, and quickly made your way to your car.

➢➣ ➢➣

Walking up the path to Josh’s house only made you grow more hungry for some sort of interaction that wasn’t an adult or stranger. You hadn’t realized how much you’ve missed seeing your boyfriend these past few days. School has been slowly taking over your life and you barely realized how much you have ignored him.

Once you reached the front door, you lifted your hand to knock, but instead you were taken back when the door swung open before you could touch it. Josh was standing inside, a worried smile and flushed cheeks.

“I was waiting for you by the window, I got excited to see you.”

Suddenly you couldn’t form any words. Your throat was dry and you felt your breathing halt. Your vision slowly got cloudy, and your legs began to feel unsteady.

Josh noticed immediately and grabbed onto your waist, bringing you into his chest. Your arms flew to wrap around his shoulders as you buried your head into his neck. He made sure to hold you tightly, worried that you would fall. His hands rubbed up and down your back, trying to soothe you as you sobbed into him. He didn’t dare to let go, he had been wanting to hold you again but didn’t think it would be like this. You slowly lifted your head, looking up at his somber expression. One of his hands moved up to your face, wiping away the wet trails left behind and moving hair from your face to behind your ear. His lips came to touch your forehead, letting his kiss linger for a few seconds.

“You want to sit down and tell me what’s wrong?” His voice was barely a whisper.

You nodded your head, making Josh dip down to scoop you up from under your legs and carrying you as if you were his bride. He carefully walked to his room, trying not to move too quickly to prevent a possible headache or dizziness.

Once he sat down on his bed, you now sitting on his lap, he leaned down to kiss your cheek. A small blush formed on your cheeks, already making you feel better.

“Tell me everything, sweetheart.”

You let out a slow breath, reaching out for his free hand and playing with his fingers.

“I’ve just been having the worst few days recently. All my teachers make me so mad and I’m just not understanding any of the work we’ve been doing and I’m scared to ask them for help because they might get mad at me for being too dumb and I’m scared that I’ll fail all my classes and we have so much work that I can’t keep up with and my classmates are just the most annoying people ever and I don’t know what to do.”

You began to hyperventilate, quickly feeling the stres rush through you again. Josh held onto you tighter, pulling you as close as he could while he rubbed your arms. You tried your best to calm yourself down, preventing yourself from crying again.

“And I feel so bad for not texting you back as quickly or not being able to answer your calls because I was trying to do my work and I’ve just been a terrible girlfriend-”

“No, don’t say that, you’re literally the perfect girl. I’m not going to be mad at you for doing homework and trying to learn, I know it’s tough.” He smiled down at you, trying to make you feel better. “I love you, ok? You’re here now, and it’s the weekend, so I’ll take care of you.”

“I love you, Joshy.”

Your hands crept up to hold his cheeks as you leaned in, planting your lips on his. It was nothing too rough or passionate, but slow and gentle. His smile peaked through, making you follow. Oh, how you’ve missed this.

He pulled away, leaving his forehead on yours. “I’ll be back, I’m going to get you some water and something to eat.” He carefully set you down on his bed, quickly running to the other side to grab his teddy bear. “Franklin will keep you company while I’m gone.”

You giggled as he gave you the bear, clutching it tightly to your chest. It smelled somewhat like him, probably because you knew he slept with it every night, as much as he denies it. He sprinted out of the room, his footsteps loud enough for you to hear from downstairs.

Ten minutes went by, and you started to wonder what this boy could be doing. That is, until you heard something drop and a small curse from behind the slightly open door. You watched as his door was slowly pushed open, showing his back. He turned around and you couldn’t help but smile at what he was holding.

“I didn’t know what you were craving at the moment, so I just brought a picnic basket with all your favorite things.” He said proudly.

You patted the area next to you, motioning for him to sit with him. He skipped to the other side, climbing onto the bed with you. The basket was set in between you two, and he rubbed his hands excitedly before he opened it.

“I brought water and lemonade, some chocolate from that one candy store you really like, some chips just in case you wanted something salty, and some fruit so it feels like we’re eating healthy.” He exclaimed, showing you each of the items.

His eyes brightened, as if he gained another idea. He jumped off from the bed and ran to the other side of the room, searching through one of his drawers. He pulled out a pink candle and some matches.

“Why do you keep matches in your room?” You wondered, watching as he turned off the lights and placed the candle next to you on his bedside table.

He picked up a match and striked it against the box, erupting a bright fire and putting it along the candle wick. “I bought some after I bought this candle.”

You blew out the match as he held it closer to you, laughing as he fanned the smoke coming to his face. He grabbed his laptop from his desk and went back to sit down next to you on his bed.

“We’ll watch some movies together, too. I’m going to make sure that you feel real better really soon.”

As Josh opened Netflix and quickly picked a random movie, you picked up a grape from the basket and looked at him giddily. He sat up and opened his mouth, letting you throw it at him. The fruit his forehead, causing the both of you to laugh.

He scooted closer to you, opening his arms for you to cuddle him. You snuggled up to his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and his around your shoulder. Nothing else mattered as he held you closer, just you and him laying down, laughing and spending much needed quality time.

You looked up from the movie after a few minutes, taking in the sight in front of you. His smile made you turn warm. His eyes glanced between yours and your lips, until he leaned down to kiss you once again. Your hands went to his cheeks as his moved to your waist, his kiss deepening as the white noise from the movie slowly blurred out.

Yeah, you could get used to relaxing like this.

A/N - hi im back . im still so sorry for leaving and stuff but hey im back now and slowly releasing these really late requests . if u want to know what happened i made a post on saturday so go check that if u want idk . but anyways i hope u like this one, love y’all so so much xx

taglist - @love-joshy @mzzjads

#ricky bowen imagine #ricky bowen x reader #ricky bowen #ricky bowen blurbs #ricky bowen fluff #ricky bowen angst #ricky bowen oneshot #joshua bassett x reader #joshua bassett imagine #joshua bassett #joshua bassett oneshot #joshua bassett blurbs #joshua bassett fluff #joshua bassett angst #hsmtmts imagine #hsmtmts

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floralcalaveraa · 3 years ago

Text

MEET THE MUSE

Rules: Answer in-character. Repost, don’t reblog.

► NAME ➭ He waves around proudly at the imaginary crowd his mind conjured, assuming a performance that one would put up when live on camera for an interview. Typical Guzma, thinking that he is all that, but he is not. “Hey y’all~” He says with a chipper, sing-song voice to continue convincing ... the dashboard? “Clean the wax outta yur ears; I’m only gonna say this once and I expect chu to say the WHOLE fucking thing when you call me. It’s Guzma Kehlani Kaliko- I’m joking.” The emotion in his performance stops abruptly at the end and he acts like normal again. But then again ... when was he ever normal? His voice is modest now. “Just keep it up to Guzma.”

► ARE YOU SINGLE? ➭ Guzma doesn’t hold back on widening his eyes upon registering the question and emphasizes the reality of his words when he curls a curl on his finger and bats his eyes, pretending a coy nature. “Yeah~ So if anyone out there single too and you want a good sex, come on down; my number is-” And then a convenient beep censors the sound of his voice because Guzma is doing too much.

► ARE YOU HAPPY? ➭ “Hmm, I’m aight right now. Is not like ... I’m going through anythin ...” He asks himself, looking at the sky for an answer. “Or am I?”

► ARE YOU ANGRY? ➭ “Who isn’t? I know I am. Like, when’s a rich white guy gonna give me all his money ya know? Those fucking billionaires don’t know how to spend it, like, give me your money I’ll show you.”

► ARE YOUR PARENTS STILL MARRIED? ➭ All that talk from earlier? That magic disappears. Guzma falls silent for a moment, but tries to salvage his enthusiasm from earlier. “Weeeeeeeeeeeell ... they never married to begin with? Yeah, very telling of their relationship, ya know?” ‘I don’t want them to ever marry. That is not love, I wouldn’t attend to it should it ever happen.’

NINE FACTS!

► ‘BIRTH’ PLACE ➭ “In. This. Stupid. Region. Called. ALOLA!” Each word came with a jumping stomp to the ground, like if this tantrum would make the region he chanted out loud crumble in his stomps.

► HAIR COLOR ➭ He grabs a strand of his hair, stretches it out, and watches it recoil back to its original curly condition, feeling a bit shy to divulge. “It’s ... it was my daddy’s hair color. I didn’t like that. So I colored it to look like my mami’s ...”

► EYE COLOR ➭ “A stupid fucking grey. Can you believe that? Not even the universe wants me to own anythin’ gold like damn give me a fucking break.”

► BIRTHDAY ➭ “...” He remains silent, connecting the dots about this scheming universe. “Y’know, this life really doesn’t want me to be first in anything; July 2nd.”

► MOOD ➭ “Now that I made that realization, I’m feelin’ pissed.” Guzma says with a relative ‘ :-) ’ expression and relaxed voice.

► GENDER ➭ “A guy, wish I was a God though or somethin ...” A hand grabs his chin lightly, but pensively. “Or a bug ...”

► SUMMER OR WINTER ➭ “OOOh summer’s are sexy! Ya feel me?”

► MORNING OR AFTERNOON ➭ “I know I’m gonna sound like a cheesy old white lady but like, watching the sunset be kinda romantic tho-”

ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE!

► ARE YOU IN LOVE? ➭ “I either hate or love the people in my life. Never in between-”

► DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? ➭ “Oh that’s fucking cute, yeah. It only exists to the right people though, not bitches like me.”

► WHO ENDED YOUR LAST RELATIONSHIP? ➭ Who ended his confidence? This question. It’s going to make him mention Her name. Her. And that scares him. Madam Prez. He sinks into his chair in shame. “I ... I’m the one that messes up.”

► HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART? ➭ “Yeah, I’m a real heartbreaker~” But his pride ends when he is left at the thought of the loneliness that comes after break-ups.

► ARE YOU AFRAID OF COMMITMENTS? ➭ “... Yeah.” It is brief, in fear that entertaining it more would make him reveal the reasons why. After all, he wouldn’t want to bad-mouth Lusamine, no matter how vile she was to traumatize love for him.

► HAVE YOU HUGGED SOMEONE WITHIN THE LAST WEEK? ➭ “No because then they’ll smell my b.o ya know?”

► HAVE YOU EVER HAD A SECRET ADMIRER? ➭ “Not that I know of ... I don’t know-”

► HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN YOUR OWN HEART? ➭ “I guess ... I know that there were times I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying ‘I love you’ to someone ...”

CHOICES!

► LOVE OR LUST ➭ “Lust hell yeah 😎” Love.

► LEMONADE OR ICED TEA ➭ “I don’t give a fuck I just crave a refreshing drink right now; all this talking and answerin’ invasive, personal, intimate, scar-opening questions to a complete stranger has my throat all dried up like yo sex life.” Giving drawn out answers does nothing to help.

► A FEW BEST FRIENDS OR MANY REGULAR FRIENDS ➭ “I have my stinky siblings at Po Town. Sure they can be annoyin’ as fuck eatin’ my food, wasting water, stanking up the bathroom, wasting money, leaving the house messy, and all that, but I wouldn’t want them any other way.”

► WILD NIGHT OUT OR ROMANTIC NIGHT IN ➭ “Aw c’mon! Both are sexy! ... Aight, the one that will end with me gettin’ laid- ...” He sighs. “Aight, the one that would get me to know my companion better.”

► DAY OR NIGHT ➭ “I like to feel dramatic in the night. Like, ‘staring out from the window, musing about yo regrets and desires while seeing nobody but chu outside thinking about yo life’ kind of dramatic.”

HAVE YOU EVERS!

► BEEN CAUGHT SNEAKING OUT ➭ “Apparently not cuz my parent’s ain’t find me yet haha!”

► FALLEN DOWN/UP THE STAIRS ➭ “’Falling up the stairs’ sounds like some Loony Toons shit if I’m honest- Just imagine, you falling down the stairs, but then rewind it to make it look like you fell upward. Lol.”

► WANTED SOMETHING/SOMEONE SO BADLY IT HURT? ➭ A hand grabs at his chest, at his heart, as he yells at the top of his lungs, “GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING MONEY!!” Stability. Love. Healing. Those he had to let go in fear of having them punished by Lusamine. Honor. Respect. Freedom. And in truth, money, to support his family.

PREFERENCES!

► SMILE OR EYES ➭ “Oh I love both; a smile in someone that doesn’t do it often though. And eyes, those that are gold, blue, or green are pretty ...”

► SHORTER OR TALLER ➭ “Ain’t nobody gonna beat me and my 6′9″ ass. ‘Sides, I love my shorties anyways.”

► INTELLIGENCE OR ATTRACTION ➭ “Attraction. Not askin’ anyone to be smart in order for me to like chu-”

► HOOK-UP OR RELATIONSHIP ➭ “I only get casual hook-ups, night-stands ... C’mon, just look at me-”

FAMILY!

► DO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY GET ALONG ➭ “Talkin’ bout the one in Po Town? Yup.” He nods proudly, not acknowledging his biological one.

► WOULD YOU SAY YOU HAVE A “MESSED UP LIFE” ➭ “Baby, I got a fucked up life-”

► HAVE YOU EVER RAN AWAY FROM HOME ➭ “Yeah. Best decision I ever made or else I wouldn’t find the real family I have now.”

► HAVE YOU EVER GOTTEN KICKED OUT ➭ “I kicked my own ass out before my daddy did.”

FRIENDS!

► DO YOU SECRETLY HATE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS ➭ “Ooh that Plumeria, I can’t stand her! Her big butt be hogging up the whole sofa when we watchin’ t.v! Do you understand how irritatin’ that is?!” Seconds after this ‘wrath’, he bursts into laughter.

► DO YOU CONSIDER ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS GOOD FRIENDS ➭ “No because they are talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, sexy friends.”

► WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND ➭ “Oh come on don’t make me pick n choose- Plumeria and Gemali (his Golisopod) has been my longest, how about that?”

► WHO KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU ➭ “Oooo it’s just me, myself, and I baby- Ain’t nobody gonna understand my twisted mind better than I.” Can be deciphered by Plumeria or Lusamine.

tagged by: @obliviouskind wrow cryus, having a spot for love .. u know cyrus if u say josefina’s name 3 times she will appear easy as that

tagging: @maxskulline , @akuromatico , @kyohansha (me🤝erik: making you do this twice. BUT OKAY SRSLY U DONT HAVE TO ONLY IF U WANT-) , @unovasgambler , @theprxfessorpair (hemlock!) , @draconscious , @littlesilverplatinum (me🤝myself, hand-gripping my other hand: making you Erik do this twice.)

#‘ I WISH I HAD A FASTER THERAPY ( DASH GAMES )#did i really just do that intro for the name section? yeah! now you see what a real clown i am hehe >:-)#btw if u been tagged and it intimidates how long it is (because it is) no pressure! you dont need to do it i promise :-)#LMAO I HOPE THE LINKS I INCLUDED WORK OR ELSE IT'LL RUIN THE MAGIC OF SOME OF HIS REPLIES PFFF

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