#in the last year has noticeably gotten old
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
SQH Fanfic Concept
SQH kinda angst fanfic where he feels completely out of place with the Peak Lords. Then he goes to the Demon Realm and feels additionally out of place. Especially with LBH, MBJ, and Sha Hualing.
So he decides to start periodically fucking off to different places in small outings. Just little few day trips. And he begins building it into his schedule. So people think heâs somewhere else. And NO ONE CATCHES ON. For months, even maybe a few years. Heâd disappear on an excursion once every other month, then every month, then every week. He ends up developing a pseudo-identity. Heâs actually enjoying it. And visits different people in smaller villages. And at some point, he decides to maybe leave for longer.
The person who actually notices after a long time is Mobei Jun. SQH had enlisted some demons and disciples to shoulder his responsibilities while heâs gone and finally MBJ noticed a small error/tick or whatever that SQH would never do. And he raises the alarm. Even the Peak Lords panic. They begin searching for SQH but home dawg is currently starting on a 2 week adventure.
SQH is eventually found after people who met SQHâs pseudo-identity point MBJ and the others to him. Heâs prolly like vibing in a lovely little cottage that heâs renovated as homebase. Maybe even developed some talismans or smthing to teleport there. MBJ finds him likeâŠ. Idk watering w garden or smthing. Heâs outside. And SQH is so at peace and is smiling n shit m. MBJ is shocked. He never thought SQH could even make a face like that.
Maybe SQH finds a kid who is a lil rascal but is overprotective of him. Maybe jokingly calls him A-Niang. People kind of know that SQH is lying about who he is but theyâve been assuming itâs because of some shit. They want to protective SQH. An elderly woman berated MBJ âfor scaring his husband awayâ. She rants about SQH being a catch and MBJ is a fool for not paying attention. âHappy wife. Happy life. Yknow?â MBJ is confused but it turns out that SQH starts gushing about him whenever heâs too tired or drunk. So everyone can tell who he is in the village. The old woman demands that he woos SQH back.
Cue a whole redemption arc of MBJ paying attention to him. MBJ actually writes a letter formally berating the Peak Lords and especially SQQ who was suppose to be SQH bff. He starts defending SQH as SQH remains oblivious.
On SQHâs side, he was fuming. He just wanted peace. He wanted to be left alone. The kid heâs been watching over is asking about MBJ. He tells the kids that MBJ is his boss that he thought wouldnât notice him gone. The kid hugs and says something along the lines of âWell SQH is so cool he canât be forgettable and those who forget him as dumbassesâ which makes SQH laugh.
Timeskip occurs and SQHâs two week trip has now lasted three. Heâs kind of gotten used to MBJ helping him. At one emotionally charged moment, he cups MBJâs face in his hands and has the urge to just kiss his king for being so silly. The kid noticed how MBJâs actions mirror someone courting another. The old lady tells tum itâs because MBJ is courting SQH. The kid snarks about how SQH doesnât even reciprocate but the old lady misses that he doesnât even realize what MBJ is doing.
(Note: this is where I stopped rambling but indulgent concept for myself lol)
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
another night spent crying over my dog because i love him so much and he is getting old
#and heâs like. fine. but also#in the last year has noticeably gotten old#and right now heâs coned and probably has a skin infection and so he just looks#extra sad and frail and iâm so sad!!!! :( heâs my baby boy :(#i keep telling myself that his vet says he doesnât look a day over ten#but iâve never had a dog before so idk what that means
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
here with me | s.r.
four times Spencer feels out of place in your house after being released from prison, and one time it's like he never left
margotober masterlist
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: mom!reader, dad!spencer, post prison, crying, stephen walker's death, non-specified illness, baking, kissing word count: 3.58k a/n: i love this fic format i have been wanting to do it for ages. and here we are. as always-tell me how you feeeeeeeel
âI wanna stay home,â your daughter whined from her place at the kitchen table. She periodically reached to her sisterâs high chair so that she could steal blueberries from her plate.
You hummed, pouring the egg mixture into the preheated skillet, âWe played hooky yesterday, bub. Weâve gotta go back to school today.â Using a silicone spatula, you started to scramble the eggs.
She grumbled unintelligibly, dramatically sliding down the chair, âLivvy gets to stay home.â
Turning down the heat on the stove, you went around the counter and crouched in front of your five-year-old, âWell, Livvyâs two, and before you ask, Finnâs not going to school either.â
âFinnâs a baby, mom. He canât go to school,â she told you proudly.
You frowned at your daughter, âItâs hard to be the oldest, honey. We canât keep staying home.â Ruffling her hair affectionately, you get up from the floor and go back to the stove, you continue scrambling the eggs.
To your eldest, going back to kindergarten was a fate worse than death. It wasnât strictly that she didnât want to go to school, it was that she didnât want to leave home. The sniffle from the table lets you know that this morning was going to be harder than you initially anticipated. âI wanna stay with daddy,â she cried, kicking her legs at the table.
Turning off the heat, you set the pan on a trivet before going back to the table, âI know,â you responded. Every time you thought you had run out of tears, new ones managed to find their way out.
Of your three kids, Eleanor was old enough to really feel Spencerâs absence. To your dismay, she ended up bearing some of the burden of her father being gone for three months. After staying with your parents for a few days, she was finally reunited with her dad yesterday morning, and they had been nearly inseparable since.
âOh, Nell,â you sighed, cupping her cheeks in your hands, âI donât know if daddy has plans today. He has a lot of stuff that needs to be done.
Pulling away from your touch, she frantically wiped the tears from her eyes, âI can do stuff too,â she whimpered.
She unwound your resolve like a ball of yarn, âI know you can, honey. I justâŠâ you faltered. You had let her miss so much school over the last three months that the school had sent letters home, âWeâll just have to see.â
You sighed helplessly, standing back up and smiling softly at Olivia, who had successfully gotten blueberry juice everywhere. Returning to the kitchen, you put some scrambled eggs on Eleanorâs plate and put more in a bowl for Olivia, setting it aside to cool more before you give it to your toddler.
Putting the pan in the sink, you flipped on the tap before starting to clean it. While you kept a watchful eye on the baby monitor, you didnât notice Spencer come downstairs and walk into the kitchen. In fact, you were completely unaware of his presence until he spoke, âCan I help with anything?â
You lost your grip on the pan, sending soapy water flying all over the kitchen as you frantically tried to catch the handle. Eleanor either didnât notice or didnât care. Olivia thought it was hilarious. âOh,â you breathed as Spencer reached over and turned off the water, âYou scared me.â
The two of you shared a timid glance, his hand ghosting over your waist as he walked past you to where the girls were sitting.
Biting the dead skin off of your lips, you finished rinsing the pan before setting it on a drying mat. You were wiping down the countertop when Finn finally woke up, and you dropped everything to go get him from his crib, almost like you were running on autopilot.
Unzip the sleep sack. Change the diaper. Get dressed. Cuddle him. Every morning. In that order.
Resting the groggy baby on your hip, you made your way back downstairs and into the kitchen, starting the bottle warmer and listening to the conversation between Spencer and Nellie.
âWhat if you go to school today, but on Friday we can both take the day off? We could go out for lunch,â he offered, crouching down so he was at her level.
She looked pointedly over at Olivia, who was happily eating the eggs that you assumed Spencer had given her, now thoroughly doused in ketchup, âJust us?â
Spencer nodded reassuringly, âIf itâs okay with mommy, we can have a daddy and Nellie day.â He reached out tentatively and tucked some of her hair behind her ear, everything about him seemed so timid.
You looped around the kitchen table, ruffling Oliviaâs hair before doing the same to Eleanorâs and even Spencerâs, which made Olivia giggle.
âCan I?â Spencer asked, nodding his head to the bottle that you had just grabbed from the warmer.
Blinking absently for a moment, you eventually nodded, handing Finn over to his dad along with the bottle, watching as Spencer cradled him, walking him around the kitchen while his bottle was clamped between his tiny hands. âHey, girls, time to get dressed,â you said, forcing yourself to peel your eyes off of your husband.
Eleanor groaned but got up anyway, trudging up the steps while you followed with Olivia in your arms, feeling like you were missing something without Finn also in tow.
Nell made her way back down first, sitting on the couch and watching her dad, keeping an eye on him like she was afraid he was going to disappear before her very eyes. âDaddy?â She whispered, her voice barely audible from your place at the top of the stairs.
âYeah?â He asked, you heard the sound of him setting the bottle in the sink.
Sheâs quiet for a moment before responding, âI missed you.â
Spencerâs footsteps stopped abruptly, âI missed you too, lovebug.â
You started to make your way down the stairs, letting Olivia go down on her own now that she wasnât covered in blueberry. Eleanor looked at you with big eyes before helping her sister climb up on the couch. âFinny, Finny, Finny,â Olivia echoed.
Zipping up Eleanorâs school lunch in her bag, you sighed, hoping you were doing the right thing by sending her to school. âHey, Nell,â you said, checking a new message on your phone, âMrs. Jareau is here.â
JJâs carpools had saved you multiple times while Spencer was in prison, you were just grateful she was willing to continue them.
Normally, sheâd run out the door at the prospect of being able to talk to Henry, but this time she lingered by the front door, holding her backpack straps in her hands and staring at her dad, âWill you be here when I get home?â
He looked at you, a thousand emotions flashing in his brown eyes, and he squatted in front of her, âIâll be here,â he said, holding out his pinky finger to interlock with her much smaller one. âI promise,â he said, kissing her forehead before standing up.
Once you knew she was off to school, you made sure Olivia was settled in on the couch and Finn was in his bouncer before going back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. You were placing dishes in the dishwasher when Spencer came back.
âIâm sorry,â he said, leaning against the countertop and handing you a bowl to put on the top rack.
Taking the bowl, you didnât look at him as you placed it in the dishwasher before putting a tablet in and pressing the start button, âI wish youâd stop apologizing.â
He stepped slightly closer to you, âI know. Itâs just⊠watching you handle all three of them in the morning. Itâs incredible,â he praised you. âI left you alone,â he said mournfully.
You shrugged, having never really thought of it that way, âYou didnât leave me alone. I had them,â you said, nodding in the direction of the living room, where Finn and Olivia were having a conversation that only the two of them could understand.
You sighed in relief as the shower water washed over you, an early afternoon shower just before Eleanor got home from school, the little ones were down for their naps, and you had to race against time before one of them woke up. It didnât give you a lot of time to just sit under the running water, but youâd have enough time to wash your hair before you needed to pause the shower.
You had narrowly avoided disaster this morning when the girlsâ breakfasts had been mixed up. Thankfully, you navigated a toddler meltdown that was triggered by the appearance of ham in her eggs. Poor Spencer was still confused even after you explained to him that she wouldnât eat ham because itâs pink and pink is her favorite color.
It wasnât something that made a lot of sense to you either, but the only person that it needed to make sense to was your two-year-old.
Rinsing your hair, you remembered how happy Spencer had been when he got Finn down last night. Heâd spent the day talking about how babies donât start to really recognize faces until theyâre around four months old, and that was about how old he was when Spencer left.
Finn knew his dad. Heâd even started reaching out for him when he wanted to be held but feeling comfortable enough to be put down for the night by himâit felt like a milestone.
The crying started right after you finished rinsing your hair, you quickly shut off the water and grabbed your towel off of the hook. Wrapping it around yourself, you dried off your feet before opening the bathroom. Sometimes when Finn cried while you were in the shower, youâd just bring him in with you to finish, but when you opened the door, his tears were already waning.
Spencer had gotten to him first, scooping him out of the crib in your room and holding him to his chest, âHey, buddy,â he cooed softly, âWhatâs wrong?â
The baby chattered in response, gripping the cotton of Spencerâs t-shirt in his tiny fists and wiping his tears away.
âYouâre alright,â Spencer whispered, placing him on your bed to undo his sleep sack, smiling at his son when he kicked his legs once freed. âYou just wanted to be held, huh? Your sister was the same way when she was a baby,â he said.
Nell. He was remembering Nell as a baby, who slept best when she was being held and would cry if you were out of her line of sight.
Spencer turned around, stopping in his tracks when he saw you in the doorway, âDid you finish?â
Youâd been caught, âOh. Could you get a new soap from the hall closet? Weâre out,â you fibbed, mindful of the way your hair was still dripping wet.
He frowned, âI just put a new one in this morning. Did you look on the caddy?â
Blinking, you shook your head, âNo, my bad.â
You had already started closing the door when he called for you, âHoney?â
Pausing, you peeked out the door to look at him, âYeah?â
âIâm here,â he told you, something urgent in his tone.
Your face warmed, the reminder of his presence making your heart race, âIââ you faltered, âI know.â
You had managed to get Nell out the door without a fight this morning with the promise of her father-daughter date tomorrow. Olivia was settled with her toys in your line of sight and Finn was in a sling. The baby hadnât slept well last night, and you were fairly certain that he had a new tooth poking through. He seemed fine now, catching up on sleep while you wiped down the kitchen.
Spencer was across from you, filling out some required papers for his reinstatement hearing. He hadnât fully committed to seeking reinstatement until you brought it up. Frankly, you were horrified by the fact that Spencer was under the impression that you would ask him to leave the BAU for any reason.
âWhat do you have planned today?â Spencer asked you, still focusing on the papers while making gentle conversation with you.
You raised your eyebrows briefly, âReally awesome exciting stuff.â You took a sip of your coffee before adjusting Finnâs sling. Very slowly, you were beginning to find a new routine with Spencer and the kids in the morning. Spencer was learning about everything that had changed, and you were learning how to give him more responsibilities around the house.
You needed to let go of the notion that you were still alone. Spencer hummed in response, laughing at your blatant oversell, âLike what?â
Smiling, you dried your hands on a tea towel before standing next to him, distracting him from his paperwork with the cuteness of a sleeping baby. âThere is so much dirty laundry in this house,â you told him, âIâm surprised anyone has any clean clothes.â
âAnything else?â Spencer asked, placing one hand gently on your hip and pressing a tentative kiss to your lips.
You hesitated, âUh, cooking?â
He looked at you curiously, âCooking for what?â
Chewing on the inside of your lip, you looked over at Olivia, making sure she was preoccupied before answering, âMonica and the kids.â
Realization dawned over Spencerâs face, âOh,â he breathed. It didnât surprise you that Spencer had conflicting feelings about Stephenâs death, given that he hadnât known him that well prior to his arrest, but he and his family had grown close to you in your husbandâs absence.
You nodded, âThereâs a meal train thing going on for them, so I was going to make some stuff and drop it there later.â Tentatively, you smoothed Spencerâs hair back, needing something to do with your hands, âMaya used to babysit a lot when I needed extra hands. I just want to feel like Iâm returning the favor.â
âCan I come with you?â Spencer asked, tilting his head back to look up at you.
Smiling softly at him, you answered, âOf course.â You sniffled, âIf we time it right, we could pick Nell up from school at the end of the day.â
He squeezed your hip comfortingly, âI love you.â
You leaned down and kissed him again, âI love you too.â
The chattering woke you up, Finn in his crib talking to himself as you glared at the alarm clock. It was just past three in the morning, and the second thing you noticed was that you were alone in your bed.
You sat up in a panic, worried you had dreamt the past few weeks until your eyes found Spencerâs watch sitting on his nightstand. Rubbing your eyes, you dragged yourself out of bed before getting Finn from his crib, taking his sleep sack off to make him easier to hold, âHey,â you whispered, âLetâs go find daddy.â
It didnât take you long, Spencer was sitting on the floor in the hallway, his knees bent to his chest as he looked into Nellâs room, her space nightlight providing a soft glow into the hallway.
âIf you move to the left about a foot, you can see both of them at the same time,â you informed him.
He listened, shifting over so that he could see Eleanor and Olivia at the same time, both of them sleeping peacefully in their beds. Spencer looked up at you, âWhy do you know that?â
You slid down the wall, taking a seat next to him and settling Finn lengthwise along your thighs, âAt the beginning of March, Nell brought home a virus from school and gave it to Liv, and then one of them gave it to Finn. So, Iâd sit out here in the hallway and watch the girls with Finny in my lap,â you told him, leaning your head on his shoulder. âJust so Iâd be nearby if any of them needed anything,â you kept your voice at a whisper, rocking your legs in hopes that it would soothe Finn back to sleep.
Spencer didnât respond for a moment, thinking through what you had said before finally speaking up, âNo one told me theyâd been sick.â
Humming, you smoothed the babyâs hair back, keeping it out of his face, âI didnât tell anyone.â To this day, no one else knew that you had juggled three sick kids at once, âI lied to JJ and told her that I was keeping Nell home for a few days, and she didnât push for more information.â No one had pushed you for anything in the past three months.
âWhy didnât you ask for help?â Spencer asked, leaning his head on yours and resting a hand on your knee.
You didnât want to, quite honestly. You hadnât wanted to have to call your mom or anyone from the BAU when you needed help because it felt like an admission of sorts. Admitting that Spencer was gone long-term and that you were a solo parent. âI donât know,â you lied, âI felt like I had something to prove to the world.â
Spencer swallowed thickly next to you, âDid it work?â
Shaking your head, you sighed a breath of relief at his presence, âNo.â
He was quiet for a while, likely wallowing in a pit of guilt that he had been constructing for weeks, âWe should get him back to bed.â
âSpence?â You whispered, closing your eyes and listening to the sounds of your quiet house, âCan we just stay like this for a little while?â
Humming a confirmation, Spencer placed a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, leaving his hand resting on your knee while the two of you remained in the hallway, enjoying each otherâs company.
âWe shouldâve done cupcakes,â you said mournfully, turning on the oven light to see that there was something very off about the cake youâd put in the oven.
Spencer hummed, looking at the recipe again to see if there was something you had missed, âWhy didnât we do cupcakes?â
You huffed, âThe Pinterest photo I found was of a cake.â It was a perfect cake, complete with a purple graduation cap made out of fondant that you could put on the top. The only problem was you had severely overestimated your baking abilities.
âSo,â Spencer started, âItâs your fault.â
Scoffing, you tapped his chest with a silicone spatula, âItâs the fault of whoever posted the original photo!â
Spencer smiled at you, a dopey look in his eyes despite it being one in the morning. âWe shouldâve asked Penelope to do the cake,â he told you, flipping over the recipe you had printed out.
âWe can make a cake,â you retorted, you were throwing a very small party for Nellâs last day of kindergartenâthe first time youâve invited a group over since Spencer was arrested. âYou have three PhDs and you donât think you can bake a cake?â
He raised his eyebrows at you, âThis might come as a surprise to you, but none of my coursework ever involved baking.â
You grinned at him, âThat does surprise me, itâs basically chemistry,â you challenged.
Spencer rolled his eyes, âOkay, come here,â he said, pulling you into his arms by the fabric of your t-shirt.
Realization fell over you as you scrambled to get away, âNo! Youâre gonna put frosting on my nose again.â It would be his second offense of the evening.
He followed you into the living room where you tripped over a toy truck, causing you to fall to the ground. When he offered a hand to help you up, you tugged him to the floor, causing one of the balloons that you had previously blown up to pop.
You covered your mouth to muffle your giggles, waiting to see if the noise had woken any of the kids up.
The kids were all so happy to have Spencer back, but your stomach twisted at the realization that this was the first night youâd really felt like you had Spencer back. You loved the kids, but you havenât had a moment without them since February.
âHey,â you said to Spencer, rolling over and flinging a balloon at him for good measure.
Carefully, you rested your chin on his chest, staring at him while he tried to calm his own laughter, âHi,â he said back, ruffling your hair affectionately.
You took a deep breath before speaking up again, âI missed you.â
You hadnât said it yet. Youâd developed some misconstrued fear of making him feel guilty if youâd told him just how much you missed him, but it was the truth. You missed him. He smiled softly down at you, almost as if he had been waiting for you to say the words. âI missed you too,â he whispered.
Slowly, you lifted yourself up and pressed your lips to his, kissing him. It was more than any of the quick pecks youâd shared in the last few weeks, it was real. His hands dug into your waist as if he was afraid you were going to disappear, but you stayed there. You stayed with him, and you always would.
Up until the timer for the cake went off, your phone buzzing in your pocket when you finally pulled away. Breathing heavily, Spencer asked, âIs it too late to ask Penelope to do the cake?â
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#written by margot#spencer reid dilf agenda
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
UNMATCHED
A/N: it's been like 6 months since i last posted something and honestly, i haven't even written anything, things are very shitty these days but i felt the motivation to write this quickly after watching 'tell me lies' and 'rivals' these past weeks so here we go! if student-prof type of fics are not your thing then don't read it
WORD COUNT: 2.6k
WARNING: age gap, student-professor relationship
SUMMARY:Â Harry is very strict about staying away from students as a young and handsome professor, but there is one person he can't get out of his head and a Christmas party brings an unexpected turn.
MASTERLISTÂ |Â SUPPORT ME!
Harry hates these type of parties, mostly because he canât imagine inviting dozens of students into his home, his private space, have the roam around and spend an entire evening with them, talking and pretending like they arenât just trying to get a better grade at the end of the semester with their too friendly behavior. Or, in his case, some girls try to push the boundaries and flirt with him, hoping to hook up with him.Â
He is not stupid. He has heard students whisper about him several times, he notices the heart eyes when he is talking in class and he has gotten several phone numbers on papers since he started his PHD studies and started teaching last year. His friends teased him about being the heartthrob of the faculty, but he didnât think it would actually happen and to this extent. To avoid any possible scandals, not that he planned to make any, he has put on quite a rigid mask towards the students to scare them off from even trying, though that hasnât stopped some of them from wanting to shoot their shot.Â
He wouldnât have come to this party, he would rather be home and continue his research thatâs still not even close to being done, but Professor Bradford, or Stella as she requests Harry to call her, is the only person he gets along with in the faculty. She is 18 years older than Harry, but still younger than the rest of the old men who have been teaching here since probably before the declaration of independence was signed. Those men are the reason younger people donât like classic literature anymore, with their outdated ways of teaching and unwillingness to bring something modern into their lectures they are scaring the new generations away. But not Stella. She is one of the reasons Harry went into his PHD and now he gets to work with her. He couldnât just reject her invitation for her annual Christmas Party she holds for her students and some colleagues.Â
Now he is standing by the wall, drinking mulled wine and just gritting his teeth, trying to calculate how early is too early to leave. A couple of girls have already tried to chat him up, they like to circle him, leave him almost no room to escape and then make him talk about school stuff, but then they slyly bring up personal things, hoping to break his usual character, but he sees through them always.Â
Harryâs best friend, Niall always teases him that he should just give in and have fun with one of them. His morals are a lot looser than Harryâs, thatâs for sure.Â
Just as he is about to look for the bathroom, not to use it but to hide for a bit, another group of girls spots him and he can already feel his skin crawling as they approach him from down the hallway. He is quick to assess the situation, but he realizes he has no chance of fleeing before they reach him.Â
âProfesor! So good to see you here!âÂ
And here we go.Â
It goes the same, they are extremely nice and inquiring about his plans for the next semester and then suddenly they are talking about summer and Harry knows they are moments away from asking what heâll be doing once the school year is over. One of the girls is talking about going to Italy on a yacht and the others chime in with their own ridiculously over the top plans while Harry is avoiding to even look at them, his eyes roam around the other guests.Â
Thatâs when he sees her.Â
Just down the hall he can peek into the kitchen and there she is, with a boy Harry assumes to be her boyfriend. Heâs seen them around campus the past few weeks, he even waited for her after Harryâs class and saw them walk away together as he fought the way his stomach churned every time.Â
Since the moment she walked into his class at the beginning of the semester Harry has been feeling like he is losing his mind. Whether it be the way she laughs with her friends before class or focuses with undivided attention as Harry explains something by the board, or says hello every time she passes him in the cafeteria, Harry canât stop thinking about her for days after even though he knows such feelings should be banned from his mind when it comes to a student. Every time he catches himself thinking about her he wants to throw himself out the window, but he still canât fight it. Thereâs something in her that draws him in and swallows him whole and itâs not just the looks. Unlike a lot of students who take his classes for easy credits or to drool after him, she is there to learn as much as she can and sheâs had the most brilliant thoughts on certain subjects Harry has ever encountered, making him almost jealous he wasnât the one to think about them.Â
She is⊠unmatched. And forbidden, but impossible to ignore. Sheâs been his vice for months.
From where he stands it appears she is having a fight with said boyfriend, her always cheerful expression is now rather upset and confused while the boy seems to be over the conversation, almost irritated by her, dismissed. Harry tries to appear not too obvious about watching them, but he is also way too fixated on her to ignore whatâs happening just down the hallway.Â
He glances away just for a few seconds, but the next time he looks back he sees the boy stomping away, irritated, while she is left there, pulling on her coat before disappearing through the backdoor, swallowed by the darkness of the unlit back terrace.Â
And before Harry could stop himself, he is already moving.
âExcuse me girl,â he mumbles disorientedly as he slips out of the small circle.Â
He places his glass to a nearby table and then grabs his own coat from the wardrobe in the hallway before making his way outside. After her.Â
The moment he steps out into the cold a short sense of realization washes over him that he definitely shouldnât be here, that he is crossing a line, but then another voice in his head tunes it out, convincing him that he is just making sure she is okay and thereâs nothing wrong with that.Â
Stopping by the door his gaze rakes through the terrace, but he doesnât see her, until she spots her slouched form sitting on the bottom of the stairs leading out to the lawn. He hears her sniffling, but she hasnât acknowledged his presence yet, if she noticed it at all. Thereâs a couple of moments of hesitation on his end, he can hear the rational side of him screaming somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him to turn around and just walk back inside, yet he still finds himself moving towards him and then that voice is silenced.Â
âEverything alright?â Harry asks from the top of the stairs, but he startles her so much that she jumps to her feet and backs away a few feet. Thatâs when he sees her tearful eyes and red nose.Â
âS-Sorry, I donâtââ
âHey, itâs all good. You didnât do anything wrong. Just checking in.â
She squints her eyes at him and thatâs when he realizes she must not even see his face since the light is coming right behind him. So he walks down the stairs and then finally his face is lit and realization settles in her eyes.Â
âOh, Professor Styles. Hi.â
âHello Y/N. Are you okay?â he asks again, to which she just chuckles bitterly.Â
He canât miss that even with tears running down her cheeks and her eyelashes stuck together, she looks so fucking beautiful it baffles him. He has to fight the urge to reach out and touch her tear-soaked cheeks.Â
âUm, yeah, everything is⊠perfect,â she scoffs, reaching into her pockets, probably looking for tissues, but finding none so Harry grabs one from his inner pocket, handing it over to her, her fingers brushing against his for the shortest second as she takes it and then itâs over, but his skin keeps tingling.Â
âThanks,â she mumbles before drying her face as much as she can. âIâm good. JustâŠâ She looks at him and changes her mind. âAh, wouldnât want to bore you with my nonsense personal drama.â
âDrama is never boring, have you learned nothing in my class?â he jokes and it actually makes her laugh.Â
âThis drama is not worthy of being taught in class though.â
âI bet some of the big names thought the same thing upon writing what we read in class these days.â
âSo youâre saying I should write about how my boyfriend is fed up with me because I told him something he did hurt me?â
âThat sounds like something I bet a lot of people would want to read about,â he smiles and when she mirrors it, he can feel his chest expanding. Somewhere way too deep in his mind an alarm goes off, but it quickly becomes one with the void and all he can think about is her. âActually I can think of a few great pieces that are about similar topics.â
âReally?â
âYeah, believe it or not, youâre not the first one to experience this.â
The way she looks at him is setting him on fire. The mixture of sadness, tiredness and gratitude towards his attempt to cheer her up is still making her glow in a way Harry has never seen before on any woman.Â
âDo you mind analyzing one for me right now?â
âIâd be happy to.â
The party is completely tuned out for the two of them. First they actually talk about a novel, but soon it turns into sharing their favorite books and authors, their guilty pleasure reads, recommendations for each other and even more personal bits Harry would never share with a student, but Y/N is the exception.Â
They have no idea how much time passes as they stand outside and Harry ignores how the cold starts to sting his fingertips even in his pockets, because he knows that if they go inside this bubble will pop and he is too selfish to let that happen just yet.Â
When thereâs a short silence Harry notices that she is probably slipping back into what happened earlier and when she looks at him again he already knows she is about to share.
âI gave him a chance and explicitly told him not to fuck me over, because I canât deal with that again. But all he has been doing is manipulating to believe that Iâm always in the wrong.â
âItâs impossible for you to always be in the wrong.â
âI know. Well, part of me knows, but then I always go back to thinking that he is right, I must have messed up something.â
âThat just proves that you have self-criticism, that you donât just think everything you do is perfect.â
She sighs and looks away, her gaze distant as she battles herself inside her head, a feeling Harry knows very well, unfortunately. It doesnât sit right with him that she is visibly struggling because of an immature guyâs untreated problems. She deserves so much more, but how can he tell that without crossing a line?
âGive it some time and youâll see it clearer. Use your critical thinking on his actions as well, not just yours and donât settle for less than your worth.â
âYou think I did that?â she asks, eyes jumping back to meet his gaze. âYou think I settled for less than my worth?â
Thereâs more behind her eyes than the words she said out loud and he is torn, because he can feel himself being pulled in more than ever, like she just opened the door the slightest and he has the chance to slip in. Itâs the first time he senses something on her part and after all the yearning he is eager to take the chance.Â
âI think you deserve a lot more, Y/N. Youâre brilliant, bright and give so much to others, you should get the same amount if not more back. If someone canât see that, then they donât deserve you.â
For a second he wishes he didnât say a thing, he regrets crossing the line and he fears her reaction, but thenâŠÂ
Then he forgets everything. Because she is kissing him.Â
It happens fast, one moment she is staring up at him with doe eyes, the next her lips are crashing against his, her hands grabbing onto the lapels of his coat. He barely recovers from the shock when she is already pulling away.
âI-Iâm so sorry, I d-didnât mean to, I justâOh my Goââ
Her stammering is quickly cut short when he kisses her, his hands holding her jaw to angle her face perfectly and while her kiss was closed, rushed and panicked, this one is different. He is quick to beg for her to open her lips so he can explore as much of her as humanly possible, he is letting all the passions loose that heâs been locking up these past months and when she returns it just as eagerly it just pushes him even further.Â
They inch back to the wall of the house and when he pins her against it a moan slips past her swollen lips, completely maddening him.Â
âFuck, Y/N,â he breathes against her lips, kissing her jawline, savoring the sweet taste of her skin thatâs supposed to be cold, but itâs actually burning. For him.Â
He keeps one hand on the side of her neck, the other one digs into her hip through her coat and she keeps pushing against him, while her hands wander under his coat, they are on his waist, back and when they move to his lower stomach, brushing against his belt, something snaps inside him.Â
But before he could completely lose his mind the backdoor opens and he quickly sobers up, pulling her farther away from the corner so they canât be seen.Â
â...and that was actually crazy,â a girl speaks up, oblivious to how Harry has Y/N pinned against the wall just a few feet away. They are both breathing heavily, but she has her face buried in his shoulder while he covers his mouth with a hand, adrenaline racing through his veins.Â
âAh shit, Iâm out of cigarettes,â another girl says.
âMm letâs get out of here then. I think Max said they are having a little party as well.â
âOkay.â
Then the door opens again and the voices disappear, but reality hits Harry hard in the head.
He slowly pulls back, enough to look at her face and when he sees her swollen lips and slightly smeared mascara he almost combusts.Â
Because he wants nothing more than to take her, right here and then everywhere else in the world, but he also realizes what he just did and this time his rational side wins.Â
âFuck,â he gasps as he jumps back, cupping a hand over his mouth.
âI wanted itââ
âY/N, stop!â he cuts her off. âFuck, this was a mistake.â
âBut I wanted it! You didnâtââ
âI said stop!â he barks and she shuts her mouth right away. âThis shouldnât have happened.â
And before she could protest again or worse, kiss him again, he is already storming back inside, across the house towards the front door.
âHarry! I havenât seen you all night!â Stella catches him, but he just wants to get as far away from this house and from Y/N as possible.
âIâm sorry, I need to go. Iâll talk to you later,â is all he manages to say before he is already out the door.
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles fluff#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles blurb
827 notes
·
View notes
Note
hiiii will you repost your old haechan frat boy fic đ«Ł
i'm not sure if this is the one you were talking about, but it's the only google doc i had of haechan in a college au.
all bark no bite | l.hc
⯠summary: Lee Haechan is the most annoying man youâve ever encountered. But that doesnât mean you donât find him hot; and maybe thatâs why he has you flat on his mattress one night at a random frat party.
⯠pairings: haechan x fem!reader
⯠genre: college!au, rivals, smut.
⯠words: 2.5k
⯠tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, angst, hate sex, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up !), pet names, excessive use of the name âbabyâ and âprincessâ, begging, dirty talk, reader uses she/her pronouns, haechan is very cocky, haechan 1000% has a crush on the reader.
Lee Haechan is an asshole. A condescending, irritating asshole who knows exactly how to get on your fucking nerves andâ
âGod â fucking â dammitâ!â
â is currently the asshole pressing you against his mattress.
Truth be told, you donât even know how you got here. You remember being shoved in a closet with him for Seven Minutes in Heaven at some random frat party his friends were throwing, but you for sure as hell remember absolutely refusing to kiss him.
âWhy not?â Heâd sneered, folding his arms. âYou scared youâre gonna like it, Princess? Promise Iâll take real good care of youâ"
"Oh, please,â youâd scoffed right back. âLetâs not pretend you know your way around a girlâs body, Hyuck. I doubt you could even find my clitâ"
"I would obliterate your pussy if youâd let me, and you know it,â there was a glint in his eye as he looked you up and down, âAnd we both know youâd like it.â
You were so fired up that you hadnât even noticed how close youâd gotten to each other; you could feel his breath on your lips, his chest against yours. So irritated by his cockiness, you hardly even registered what you said next until it was too late:
âYouâre all bark no bite, Lee Haechan.â
For the last three years youâve been at college, you and Haechan had both been walking on eggshells around each other. Thereâd always been tangible tension ever since you had shut down one of his rants in class and essentially destroyed him â and from there itâd been a competition to one-up one another. You hated him, he hated you⊠but doesnât the line between hate and lust wear oh so thin when itâs someone as hot as him?
The answer is yes, evidently.
After the seven minutes weâre up, Haechan wastes no time dragging you out of the closet and to his bedroom, earning him a matter of gasps and âooohhhsâ from the rest of the players.
Next thing you know, youâre lying on your stomach, hands pinned at the small of your back as he thrusts into you so deeply you swear you can feel him in your stomach. His sheets rub against your clit with every body-wrecking slap of his hips against you, your throat hoarse from screaming. And for a moment youâre really, really, really fucking sorry for even doubting his abilities so much â because God can he fuck.
But youâd never tell him that, you donât need to. His ego is already massive, heâll live without validation from you â or so you think.
A hand crowds underneath you, before seizing your neck and pulling you up. The shortness of breath makes you pant, pulsing around him instinctively and you hear him laugh in your ear.
Fucking asshole.
And as if he hears you, his fingers find your mouth â and you gag, because his fingers are fucking thick and heâs shoving them down your throat. And the worst part is you love it, your mouth swallowing them the minute they push past your lips like it was just instinct.
"Oh, baby,â he laughs breathlessly, âNext time you do that, make sure itâs on my dick."
"You fucking wishââ you grunt, because heâs laying into you real deep now, slow, languid thrusts that have you refraining from shuddering all overâ âas if thereâs going to be a next time, you dick."
"Oh?â his hips still.
Then, almost thoughtfully, they begin again. Slow and teasing and not nearly enough to have you writhing in pleasure. His pace is tortuous, and if he didnât have your arms pinned behind you, youâd claw at his back to make him speed up.
âReally? You think one night of the best sex youâll ever have is enough?"
"Please, your dick game isnât that impressive,â you say flatly. âJust make me cum and get this over with.â
You feel the heat of his breath as he dips his head again, placing kisses on your jaw so gently that for a moment youâre taken aback. âDonât get impatient now, baby. I told you Iâd take care of you didnât I? JustâŠâ His hips still againâ âI think Iâd like you to ask for it.â
âAsk?â You scoff, incredulous.
He nibbles down on your ear, before brushing past it with his lips low enough to whisper, âYou're right. I meant beg.â
âWhat, you get off on girls begging for your permissionâ?"
Thereâs a rough snap of his hips into you and you have to bite hard down on your lip to stop yourself from whimpering.
"Not just any girls,â he mutters, so quiet that you almost donât hear. âOnly you.â
Youâre going to pretend that your heart doesnât flip when he says that, partially because of how sick it is that that gets you off, and instead focus on what the fuck is going on.
Did Lee Haechan just admit he wants you to beg for him? The same man whoâd made it his college mission to torment and tease you at every given opportunity wants you.
If you werenât lying on your stomach and taking every thick inch of him youâd be running in shock horror. But you find the idea isnât quite as horrifying as youâd imagined.
â⊠Maybe we can fit more than one round in tonight, but thatâs all I can offer you,â you say after a moment. You can feel him freeze up behind you. âIâm a busy girl with exams, Hyuck, I donât have time to be running around with strange menââ
âStrange men?â His laugh is really nice. Sweet and dorky â the opposite of the usual mischievous chuckling he did when he knew he had gotten under your skin â and you only manage a huff of your own laughter yourself before youâre caught off guard by his steadily increasing grinds. âAnd after those exams? Got any time for a strange man like me?"
ââŠIâd have to check my calendar.â
He hums, and you swear to God if he stops again youâll take back everything. "But for now⊠Whatâs your calendar open to, baby? Three? Four rounds?â
âBold of you to assume youâll get me to cum more than once,â you mumble, but youâre beginning to lose your breath as he picks up the pace once again. âIâll warn you, though â I get loud after two.â
You donât have to look back to know heâs sporting a smug as fuck grin. âYou better muffle yourself with a pillow then, because Iâm not stopping.â
âYouâre so fucking sexy when you do that.â
Okay, so maybe the whole âwaiting until after examsâ bit is getting to Haechan. He wouldnât wait until your calendar cleared up, he couldnât, his testosterone wouldnât let him.
Itâs been a whole three days since he got to fuck you; and God was it driving him insane.
You glance up at him now, unimpressed. You knew studying with him was a bad idea, but heâd been so insistent; and you had to admit, knowing he had made you cum four times made his presence all the more tolerable to hang out with.
âWhen I what? Do science homework?"
"No, no â I mean, yes. When you concentrate you get this small⊠crease between your browsâŠâ He reaches forward â concentrating himself â tugging the plush of his bottom lip between his teeth as he reaches out to poke between your brows. âYou look fucking sexy.â
âAlright, Casanova, hands to ourselvesâ you snort before you return to your reading.
The silence doesnât last long, and the second he opens his mouth you swear youâre two moments away from taping his lips together.
âLemme eat you out.â
âWhâ no!â Horrified, you peek around to see if anyone had heard him. But the library is virtually empty â it always is after 11 PM on a Friday.
And also, youâre both tucked away in a table at the back behind the History books that no-one ever takes out.
âYou should be studying.â
âDonât worry about me, I got this exam in the bag.â
You glare. âYouâre awfully confident.â
âYeah.â He shrugs, slumping in his seat again. âYouâre my only competition, and, wellâŠâ
âWell, what?â You demand, setting your book down.
This was the usual dynamic you were familiar with when it came to Lee Haechan.
âYou saying Iâm not good enough competition, for you Hyuck? If my memory serves me correctly â and it definitely does â I beat you by 10% on our last exam.â
His own eyes narrow.
Oh, you just hit a nerve.
âJust for that,â he begins slowly, pushing his chair out, âIâm gonna suck your clit âtil you go dizzy.â
âWhat part of no donât you understand?â
But the promise is enticing and you part your legs anyway as he shimmies underneath the table.
âYouâre such a fuckboy, I swearââ
âI am not!â He objects incredulously from beneath you. âI just like how you taste, baby.â
A fuckboy, you swear. But heâs got a way with words (and a way with his fingers, and a way with his tongue, and a way with his diâ).
You feel your skirt being rucked up and your panties being pulled to the side â seconds later, his face ducks up from the table, grinning wolfishly.
âYouâre kinda wet down here, baby. Are you sure youâre okay?â He teases.
âShut up before I scream,â you grunt, folding your arms.
âWouldnât that be a dream?â He sighs. He retreats not two milliseconds after, though, and you hear him whistle lowly to himself. And then, so quiet you almost donât catch it: âFucking hell, baby.â
You make a promise that if he calls you baby once more youâre going to kick him because it makes your stomach flutter and your palms sweat â but then he licks a rough line up your pussy and you decide that maybe youâll allow him to call you whatever he pleases.
Your head falls back as he does it again, and again, and again, as if heâs trying to clean up whatever mess youâd made in your panties. And normally youâd be irritated â wanting him to just move onto your clit already â but he genuinely sounds like heâs enjoying himself.
Quiet groans in his throat and passionate movements of his jaw, and his hands grasp your thighs so tightly you know thereâll be bruises. He smacks his lips wetly and you jolt, peeking out from behind the bookshelf to see if anyone had seen.
âCalm down,â He says, words muffled against you. âNobody comes behind here on a Friday night. Weâre safe.â
And as if to punctuate his point: a finger pulls back the hood of your clit, and true to his word, he sucks. Quickly, you shove your fist into your mouth and begin to gnaw on your knuckles, squeezing your eyes shut so hard that you see stars.
âH-Hyuck,â you whimper, âUnless you want me to get us caughtâ"
"I know, I know,â he says, sighing. His face comes out from underneath the table again. âIâll be good if you pull your top down.â
âW-what?â To be fair, youâre still delirious off pleasure because his thumb hasnât stopped grinding against your clit. âWhy?"
"So I can play with your tits,â he says easily, shrugging. âC'mon, Princess. Show me your boobs.â
You stare at him for a moment, disbelief written on your face. âYouâre such a man.â
âAnd youâve still got the limp to prove it, havenât you, baby? Donât think I havenât noticed the way you canât walk straight.â
âWhatever.â You pull your top down, tug your breasts out of their cups â only to appease him and get him to shut up. Immediately he takes one in his grabby hands, all warm and rough as he tugs and pulls at one nipple.
So, okay, maybe he does know what heâs doing. Sometimes. Who are you kidding? All the time.
âHm, you like that, donât you?"
"Shut up,â you hiss, âif you get us banned from this library because of your dirty talk Iâm never fucking you againâshit."
âWe both know thatâs not true.â
A steady stream of suckling on your sensitive bundle of nerves calls your attention elsewhere; at the same time, your nipple is rolled between his index and thumb. You feel like youâre buzzing all over, and itâs not because youâve had five cups of coffee in the last three hours.
You donât realise that youâre panting â fucking close â until Haechan releases your clit with a pop. He ducks underneath the table to peek up at you again. "Are you trying to get us caught?"
"Iâll be quiet,â you promise through gritted teeth, shoving your top into your mouth. You restrain the urge to curse him out because you could feel the beginning flutters of your orgasm on the tip of your tongue, and you know heâll draw it out as much as possible if given the chance. âJust keep going."
Heâs wearing a victorious, shit-eating grin when he gets back to it, energy increasing rapidly. He eats pussy like heâs competing for a trophy, and truth be told, you donât mind being his prize if he makes you cum as hard as you did a few days ago. His tongue moves eagerly, tracing letters and numbers and fucking his name on your sensitive skin before sucking again.
No noise. You try to coach your brain into silence.
You never usually have a problem keeping quiet for the first orgasm. But as much as you hate to admit it, the act of being eaten out in a public library is a different kind of turn on.
And it really doesn't help that Haechan knows exactly what heâs doing.
Maybe thatâs why when you cum, you have no problem with clinging to any part of him you can get your hands on â his hand on your chest, his hair between your legs. A weak whimper follows as you contract around nothing, hips bucking gently into his mouth, and he takes it all in.
Fuck.
He slides back from under the table and resurfaces a metre away, grinning widely. You know the image of you looking so ruined because of him is doing wonders for his ego â so as quickly as possible you pull your top down and readjust your skirt, panties irritatingly rough against your skin.
"Good, huh?"
You donât want to give him anymore satisfaction, but you know with the orgasm he had just given you so publicly, there was no use in lying. In fact, youâre certain lying to him would only make his cocky ego flame even more.
âWhatever, Hyuck. You give good head, Iâll give you that.â
He hums, leaning backwards. âThanks, baby. Now, bend over."
âExcuse me?â You say.
âCâmon, you canât just let me eat your pretty pussy and not expect me to get hard. Youâre blue balling me here, Princess.â
Youâre so genuinely shaken by his unfaltering confidence that you just stare.
âAnd donât pretend you donât love my cock.â
âHyuckââ
âBend over, Iâm not kidding.â
Youâre in a library. Letting him eat you out was already a reach â but you canât deny that you do love the feeling of him inside you. And he did take good care of you last time. And â
You sigh in defeat, standing. âRemember what I told you last time?"
"You get loud after two. Iâll keep that in mind, baby.â
#đ·ïžfrompaige#nct smut#haechan smut#nct dream smut#nct 127 smut#nct x reader#haechan x reader#nct 127 x reader#nct dream x reader#nct scenarios#nct one shot
754 notes
·
View notes
Note
what about task force 141 always admiring their s/o picture before going on field or when theyâre feeling lonely and missing them
Price
Because he's old (fashioned), he carries a standard 4x6in photo of you with him during his deployment
He had the picture developed ages ago â so long, in fact, you thought he'd gotten rid of it many many tours ago (he never would, of course; he even has an extra copy of the negative stowed in a shoebox in the back of your shared closet, just in case)
Every day, he makes sure your face is the first thing he sees when he wakes up, as well as the last thing he looks at before going to sleep (just like he would if he was home with you)
When he's not admiring the photo, he keeps it in the breast pocket of his tac vest directly over his heart
He's folded and unfolded it so many times that it's starting to fade and tear at the seams, showing just how loved it is all these years later
Gaz
I can see him having a locket with a tiny picture of you inside
Just a little circular gold pendant, no bigger than the pad of first finger, which he hangs around his neck right beside his dog tags
He bought a matching one for you (which you wear all the time, regardless of whether he's home or not), the only difference is yours is heart-shaped and has a picture of him inside
Most of the time, he'll keep the locket tucked safely beneath his shirt, but will pull it out and look at it on days he's feeling particularly lonely or homesick
However, sometimes (especially when he's anxious about an upcoming mission), he doesn't even look at the picture inside â just worries the surface of the pendant with his thumb, rubbing at the thin grooves that form the looped letters of your initials
Soap
Similar to Price, he carries a larger picture of you with him â his, however, is a polaroid
You bought him the vintage style camera for his birthday a few years back, and immediately upon unwrapping it, he started snapping a bunch of candid photos of you with it
Despite how unflattering you say you look in them, he thinks you're absolutely gorgeous (after all, that's why he carries multiple with him â his favorite one always on the top of the stack)
If he can get away from the guys during the mission, he often finds himself talking out loud to the photo, speaking as if you're really there listening to him
As much as he loves to study your face, his favorite part of the polaroid is your little note scrawled across the bottom: Any more chins and I'll be using your parachute as a scarf
Ghost
This might be a little controversial but I don't think he'd carry around a physical picture of you
Pictures of you on his phone? Sure. But he's not taking his unencrypted smartphone into the middle of enemy territory, you know?
Instead, I think he carries a little trinket of yours with him â something small, seemingly inconsequential, like a hair tie or one of your favorite bookmarks
You might've noticed some things gone missing here and there, but never realized that he was nabbing them for his own little keepsake
He keeps it hidden away majority of the time, but every now and then when he starts to downward spiral, he'll pull out that token as a reminder of what (or whom) he has waiting for him back home, and it gives him the strength he needs to power through
#wiw asks#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#simon riley#john price#kyle garrick#john mactavish#cod x reader#tf 141 x reader#task force 141 x reader#cod mw2#call of duty#modern warfare 2
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Year of the Dragon.
(Name edited, credit to @jedipirateking for the suggestion.)
A joke the fandom has been making for a while is that Tim is forever stuck at 17. What if we make that something the rest of the Batclan notice too? (I am not following cannon.)
It was just after the annual Family picture day and the new group portrait was taking the place of last yearâs and looking at it they noticed 15 year old Damian is now almost the same height as Tim. And Tim is pretty much the same as last year.
Jason and Damian take the opportunity to tease Tim calling him a shrimp and other short jokes. Which Tim rolls his eyes and goes to work on a case or something with Wayne industries. But Bruce, Dick, and Alfred are more concerned, may feel guilty thinking letting him be a vigilante stunted his growth. And looking back at the photos they have of him notice that he wasnât growing as much as a normal teen boy should have.
Bruce decides he is going to be more active in running Wayne Enterprises while Alfred plots to cut back Timâs coffee limit. And Dick is going to help out coordinate the patrols. (He had to move back to Gotham when the Bludhaven city spirit forced all the people out before the city got blown up. Itâs a long story but dick has been really down and unmotivated after that.)
Tim is not taking any of this well, and feels like his family being stifling. So he decided to start going through the basement and vault of Drake manor. Which he has been putting off since he didnât really have time for it between patrols and WE. And in the family heirlooms vault, shoved way in the back with covered in dust and many other things sitting on top, he finds an oak box with an ornately caved dragon on it. Opening it up he finds it is velvet lined and has a large pendant that looks a silver dragon ïżŒcurled deep violet amethyst egg. And next to the pendant is a scroll made of thin leather.
He pulled out the scroll first and tried to read it but it was too faint of lettering to make out in the somewhat dim vault light. But what little he could make out it it was really old 14th century English and mentioned something about a coming of age. He rolls it back up and puts it aside to instead pick up the pendant. When he touches it there is a faint static shock that surprises him other then that the silver and purple necklace doesnât seem out of the ordinary.
His phone lets off a chime to remind him that diner is in an hour, so he pack the pendant and scroll back in the box and places it in his bag with a few other items he finds interesting and wanted to look into more later. Then returns to Wayne manor to eat before patrol. It isnât until he wakes up the next morning he realizes that he should have probably read the scroll before touching the pendant.
He wakes up to knocking on his bedroom door and someone yelling at him to get up. He had gotten into the habit of locking his door back when Damian first moved in. He yelps in surprise, falling over because his center of balance is all out of whack when he tried to stand. Now he is fully awake and takes stock of himself.
Scales?
Scales! Why are his arms covered in scales?! His hands look like a mix of paws and talons. He struggles out of the sheets to look at the rest of himself. His pjs are stretched and torn in places to accommodate the new digigrade shape of his legs. Not to mention he now has a long tail and wings and a longer neck. He rushes to his personal bathroom and awkwardly stands up on his two legs so he can get a good look in the mirror. And yep that is a distressed dragon face looking back at him. He catches himself making a weird keening sound as he plops down to sit on the bathroom floor.
Moments later he hears the sound of his bedroom doorâs lock being picked. Bruce calling his name and Duke explaining he had heard animal noises from the room. Tim scrabbles to try and get the balcony door unlocked so he can escape and find a way to change back before anyone can see him, but moving on all fours and the new talon hands he is not used too take up too much time and the bedroom door is open.
Living in a family of vigilantes, their reaction time and fight or flight instincts are quick, and Tim is tackled to the floor by Duke while the others start looking at every inch of the room for clues as to what happened to their seemingly missing brother.
Bruce is looking at the dragon in Timâs pajamas for a second before saying, âTim? Is that you chum?â
Tim tries to answer but all that comes out is a warbling chuff. Which takes Tim by surprise and has him nearly start to cry in panic. He canât Talk!
âHey, youâre ok Tim. Deep breaths. Duke get off him. Breath with me Tim. In 1, 2, 3, 4. Out 1, 2, 3, 4.â Bruce spoke in his soothing a scared child voice. Tim was half annoyed at himself for how much it helped.
âB, Look at this!â Dick said holding the box with the scroll and dragon pendent instead open. Now the gem is a very pale see through purple with only a sliver on the bottom the original color.
They take it down to the bat cave and get to work deciphering the scroll. Turns out the Drake family line are descendants of some ancient medieval ïżŒprince named Aragorn and that there was a family tradition that on the sixteenth birthday the child would have to live a year in dragon form to let it catch up in maturity. But after the dragon form catches up they will be able to freely shift between forms. But if they donât follow the tradition they donât age properly, and the longer they put off the tradition the longer they have to spend as a dragon.
And that is all I had time for before bed. So who does this affect the family dynamic? What about the relationship between Tim and Damian? How do we bring Danny Phantom into this? Does he think Tim is a ghost dragon at first?
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dc x dp#dcxdp#danny phantom#batman#batfam#danny fenton#story prompt#dc comics#tim drake#tim drake wayne#Tim turns into a dragon#he is a juvenile dragon#thatâs why he seems stuck at 17#cause he never went through the secret family coming of age tradition#said tradition is that he has to spend time in dragon form to let it catch up#this could be any where between 1 to 15 years#the drakes are the descendants of Dorothea and Aragornâs family from Danny phantom#the dragon pendants they have are ghost versions and work differently then the living world one
745 notes
·
View notes
Text
MILF
Toto Wolff x wife!Reader
Summary: Toto knows his wife is a MILF ⊠but this doesnât mean he is okay with his sonâs friends calling you that
Warnings: teenage boys doing teenage boy things
Based on this request
âPass the schnitzel, darling,â you say to your husband as the three of you sit down for dinner. Your teenage son has just gotten home from school, and you canât wait to hear about his day.
Toto smiles at you as he passes the platter of breaded veal. âHow was school?â He asks.
Lukas shrugs as he takes a bite. âIt was okay,â he mumbles through a mouthful of food.
You give him a look. âDonât talk with your mouth full, sweetie,â you gently chide. Even though heâs almost an adult now, you still see your little boy in him.
Lukas swallows and straightens up. âSorry, Mum.â
âSo tell us about your day,â you prompt. âLearn anything new and interesting?â
Your son fidgets in his seat. âWell ⊠some of the guys were talking about you today.â
You raise your eyebrows in surprise. âMe? What about me?â
Lukas glances uncomfortably at his father. âJust ⊠stuff they saw online. Paparazzi photos from when we were on the yacht last month.â
Toto sets his fork down, his expression darkening. Heâs no stranger to being in the public eye, but heâs always been protective of you and Lukas. âWhat exactly were they saying?â He asks in a carefully neutral tone.
âThey, uh âŠâ Lukas rubs the back of his neck. âThey called Mom a MILF.â
âA what?â Toto sputters, while you have to suppress a laugh. Youâre familiar with the crude term, given your substantially younger age compared to your husband.
âItâs not funny!â Toto says indignantly. âI wonât have people objectifying my wife like that.â
You reach over and pat his arm. âItâs okay, dear. Iâm not bothered by it.â You turn back to Lukas with an amused smile. âIâm flattered those boys think your old momâs still got it.â
âYouâre not old!â Lukas protests loyally. âItâs just, you know, youâre a lot younger than Vati, and youâre really pretty, so the guys notice.â
Toto scowls, but you grin and blow your son a kiss. âThanks, sweetie.â Your playful reaction seems to visibly relax him.
âThis is unacceptable,â Toto shakes his head. âI should call the school. Get those little punks suspended for sexual harassment.â
âOh Toto, donât be silly,â you wave dismissively. âTheyâre just teenage boys. Iâm sure they didnât mean any harm.â
âIt doesnât matter!â He insists. âYour dignity and privacy should be respected, not exploited. People think because weâre in the spotlight that they can say whatever vulgar nonsense they want.â
You reach over again and lace your fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. âI know it bothers you, darling. But I married you knowing full well how public our lives would be. A little crude gossip comes with the territory.â
Toto opens his mouth to retort, then pauses, some of the indignation leaving his eyes. âI just donât want anyone disrespecting you,â he says finally.
You smile softly. Even after all these years of marriage, your heart still flutters at his protectiveness. âI know. Itâs one of the many things I love about you.â
Lukas makes a face. âUgh, gross. Can you guys not be all mushy right now?â
You laugh and blow him another kiss. âSorry Lukas. I canât help it â your fatherâs the love of my life.â
Toto smiles back at you, the anger fading from his face. âAnd youâre mine, schatzi.â
Your son pretends to gag. âSeriously, stop. Iâm trying to eat here.â
You chuckle and spear another bite of schnitzel. âAlright, weâll behave. Now, tell me more about the rest of your day ...â
The conversation moves on to lighter topics as you finish up dinner. You listen attentively while Lukas fills you in on the drama with his friend group and his struggles in history class.
After clearing the dishes, the three of you move to the living room. You curl up next to Toto on the couch while Lukas sprawls out on the carpet to play video games.
You close your eyes contentedly and rest your head on your husbandâs shoulder. Despite the lifestyle that being married to Toto provides you with, this right here is your happy place â your little family, spending a quiet evening at home.
Toto wraps an arm around you and presses a soft kiss to your temple. âHave I told you lately how lucky I am?â He murmurs.
You smile up at him. âEven after all these years, you still give me butterflies.â
âGood,â he says firmly. âIâll tell you every day if I have to, until youâre sick of hearing it.â
Lukas groans loudly from the floor. âCould you guys be any more embarrassing?â
You and Toto both laugh. âWhat? I canât tell my beautiful wife how much I love her?â He calls out in protest.
âNot when Iâm right here!â Lukas complains. âGet a room or something.â
You grin mischievously. âThatâs not a bad idea ...â you say, running a hand up your husbandâs chest.
Totoâs eyes darken. âMinx,â he murmurs.
Lukas scrambles to his feet. âOkay, Iâm out of here.â He gives you both a look of exaggerated disgust as he heads upstairs.
You and Toto chuckle as you listen to his bedroom door slam shut.
âNow, where were we?â Toto says in a low voice, pulling you closer. You bite your lip coyly as he presses his mouth to yours. No matter how many years go by, the chemistry between you is still electric.
You shift against him eagerly as the kiss deepens. His hands slide down to grip your hips, and you make a soft noise of pleasure. After nearly two decades of marriage, he knows exactly how to touch you.
âTell me again,â you whisper when you finally break apart, slightly breathless.
Toto gazes into your eyes. âI love you,â he says sincerely. âI will always love you. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me.â
You kiss him again, tenderly this time. âI love you too, Toto. Forever.â
No matter what people say or how famous you become, your relationship has always been grounded in this â the unwavering love between you. The rest of the world falls away when youâre together.
You rest your head contentedly on his shoulder again, his arms wrapped around you. This right here, next to the man who still looks at you like you hung the moon, is home.
***
The next day after school, Lukas comes home with a few of his friends in tow. Youâre just finishing up putting away the groceries when you hear the chatter of teenage voices approaching.
âHey Mum, weâre gonna hang out downstairs,â Lukas calls out as the group of boys raids the kitchen fridge for snacks.
You smile and give them a little wave. âHi boys. Thereâs more drinks in the pantry if you need it.â
The teenagers rumble acknowledgements through mouthfuls of food before thundering downstairs to your home theater room. You chuckle and shake your head. Teenage appetites are truly a phenomenon.
Youâre straightening up the living room when you hear the front door open again, signaling Totoâs return from work.
âHello, liebling,â he greets you warmly, sweeping you into an embrace.
You kiss him in welcome. âHow was work today?â
âThe usual madness,â he sighs. âBut coming home to you makes it all worthwhile.â
You smile up at him adoringly. Even after all these years, your heart still flutters at his smooth compliments.
âOh, Lukas has some friends over,â you mention. âTheyâre downstairs watching movies or playing video games.â
Toto frowns a little. âThose wouldnât happen to be the same friends who were objectifying you?â
You pat his chest placatingly. âNow dear, we talked about this. Donât make a fuss.â
âHmph.â He still looks slightly disgruntled. âWell, I should at least go down and say hello.â
You follow him downstairs, where the group of teenage boys are sprawled out on the sofas engrossed in some action movie. Explosions boom from the surround sound system as CGI buildings crumble onscreen.
They look up when you and Toto enter. âOh hey Mr. Wolff,â one of them says.
âVati, you remember my friends right?â Lukas introduces. âJason, Andrew, Ryan, and David.â
âAh yes, nice to see you boys again,â Toto says smoothly.
Too smoothly.
You can sense the storm brewing beneath his polite façade.
Sure enough, as the teensâ attention returns to the movie, Toto clears his throat. âSo I heard you boys were discussing my wife the other day.â
The room goes silent, save for the cinematic explosions still blaring through the speakers. The boys glance around uneasily.
âUm, we didnât mean anything bad by it,â David finally offers timidly.
Toto raises an eyebrow. âOh? So objectifying and sexualizing a married woman is not meant to be disrespectful?â
The teens squirm under his icy stare. You put a warning hand on your husbandâs arm, but he continues.
âLet me tell you something about my wife,â he says, an edge creeping into his tone. âShe is an elegant, successful, and highly intelligent woman. Not some piece of meat for you ogling schoolboys to drool over.â
The chastised boys all mumble apologies and stare fixedly at the floor.
Toto points a stern finger at them. âI trust there will be no further vulgar comments, or you wonât be welcome in this house again.â
âYes sir,â they mutter. Lukas looks like he wants the leather couch to swallow him whole. You have to stifle a smile at your husbandâs overprotective papa bear routine.
âGood. Iâm glad we understand each other.â Toto straightens his suit jacket. âNow you boys enjoy your ⊠movie.â
He turns and heads back upstairs, with you following after an apologetic smile to the shell-shocked teens.
Once youâre out of earshot, you swat his shoulder reproachfully. âToto! Did you really need to traumatize the poor kids?â
âI didnât traumatize them,â he huffs. âI just ⊠explained a few things.â At your skeptical look, he amends â ⊠Firmly.â
You shake your head in exasperation. âYouâre impossible. I thought I asked you not to make a fuss.â
He takes your hands earnestly. âIâm sorry, schatzi. I just canât stand anyone disrespecting you. You deserve to be treated like a queen.â
You soften at the sincerity in his eyes. âOh Toto. Youâre too good to me.â You wrap your arms around him in a conciliatory hug.
He holds you close. âNonsense. Iâll spend every day proving youâre the most important thing in the world to me.â
You snuggle against his chest, reminded yet again how lucky you are. Even when he overreacts, you know it comes from a place of devotion.
âJust promise me youâll go easy on the boys,â you say wryly as you pull back. âI think you scared them straight for life.â
Toto smiles ruefully. âI suppose I did get a bit ⊠intense. But the message wonât do any harm.â
You laugh and kiss his cheek. âMy noble protector.â
He grins. âProudly.â
Later, as the boys are getting ready to leave, Toto stops them at the front door.
âBefore you go, I have one more thing to say,â he announces. The teens glance at each other nervously.
Toto looks each of them in the eye. âIf I ever hear of you disrespecting my wife again, I wonât be so kind. You see, sheâs actually a MIDF ⊠Mother I Do Fuck.â He enunciates the words pointedly.
The teensâ eyes widen in horror, and Lukas turns bright red. âVati!â He hisses in embarrassment.
Toto ignores him. âSo I would appreciate it if you kept your crude comments to yourselves next time.â He gives them a tight smile. âAre we clear?â
The boys nod rapidly. âYes sir. Crystal clear, Mr. Wolff,â one mumbles.
âGood.â Toto claps his hands together. âThen get home safely.â
After the front door shuts behind the fleeing teens, Lukas rounds on his father. âOh my god, Vati! Why would you say that?â
He shrugs unapologetically. âI wanted to make sure they got the message loud and clear this time.â
Lukas just shakes his head in mortification before stomping upstairs.
You slide your arms around your unrepentant husband. âYou just couldnât resist, could you?â
âThey left with a healthy dose of fear and respect,â Toto says smugly. âI think my work here is done.â
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#toto wolff#toto wolff imagine#toto wolff x reader#toto wolff x you#toto wolff fic#toto wolff fluff#toto wolff fanfic#toto wolff blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#toto wolff x y/n#mercedes amg f1#formula 1#formula one#f1 imagines#f1 fics
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
âËâčïœĄ don't let go, okay? | gojo satoru
wc: 2.1k
summary: it has to be some sort of fate that you happen to be stuck with gojo on valentine's day.
contains: f!reader, slowburn, fluff, reader and gojo are 21, reader and gojo are âguardiansâ to megumi and tsumiki but they are not romantically together, japanese valentineâs chocolate tradition, readerâs cursed technique (vaguely), kind of pining
a/n: in the 'conversations on love' universe but takes place before the main series (would be nice to read but not necessary to understand this). theme song for this is what love is by zimmer90.
part of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within 'conversations on love'. also included in how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas)
The night is crisp when you step into it, the clean cut of a cool breeze tickling your cheek; it sweeps past you in the edge of winter and spring.Â
You walk along the street.Â
A sort of faded, vintage hue paints Shimokitazawa, wooden boards with worn down signages holding names of antique shops in every corner. The night feels older here, retro lights tinging bars and pubs more maturely than those nearby in Shibuya. At the street across, the sign of a cafe is flipped the other way to formally open the speakeasy it transforms into.Â
Youâve only been here twice before: once with Nanami and Utahime years ago, while searching for old vinyl records the three of you had gotten into, and another with Tsumiki, some time last month because sheâd mentioned wanting to check the thrift shops.Â
Who would have thought youâd be back so soon? Withâ
âSatoru,â you call out, half-giggling, âwhy are you sniffing?âÂ
Gojo trails just a few inches behind you, body bent over closely to catch a whiff but not near enough to touch. Each inhale he takes is punctuated with the sound of whizzing air, condensing to fit through his nostrils.Â
âYou smell like chocolate.â
Out of all the plans youâd anticipated on Valentineâs Day, being roped into a mission with Gojo at the last minute was definitely not one of them.Â
You shake your head knowingly, the corners of your lips curling; Gojo can smell sweets miles away, you could honestly mistake it for his cursed technique.Â
He pulls back, falling into step with you.Â
âTsumiki asked me to help make some earlier.âÂ
Heavy jazz floats through the air as you pass by a bar entrance, the music muffling as the doors fall shut a few seconds later. Your boots clack against the pavement.Â
âOh?â Gojo perks up, voice turning an all-too-familiar hint of nosy as he teases, âWhat kind?âÂ
You snort as you dig your hands further into your pockets. For someone who claims to be all-seeing and all-knowing, Gojo is a lot more inquisitive than he seems; his nonchalance is but an added security much like his infinity is, dissipating only in company heâs comfortable sharing that side of him with.Â
Itâs been a while since Gojoâs been ïżœïżœïżœhomeâ in the past week, so you donât blame him for wondering.Â
âTomo mostly,â your gaze shifts to the side, waiting for his reaction, âthough I did notice her sneaking a few honmei ones when I wasnât looking.âÂ
Thereâs a slight stagger to his step as his shoulders tense up, his sunglasses shifting higher as his ears push back. You bite down your laugh.Â
For as clueless as both you and Gojo are when it comes to being guardians to Megumi and Tsumiki, you think Gojoâs grown an odd mix of semi-brotherly-kind of-fatherly-mostly-guardianly protectiveness over the both of themâto Tsumiki especially. You can tell because his reminders to Megumi are always sealed with some form of ensuring Tsumiki makes it home safely.Â
âHomeâ, which is where the kids stay, but itâs neither yours nor hisâjust a place nearby that keeps them protected and comfortable. Youâre with them most days, Gojo staying when he can, but with the higher-ups assigning him on missions left and right, thereâs hardly any time for him to drop by. Hell, you havenât seen much of him either, besides the rare instances of bumping into him along the halls of Jujutsu Tech, a whine almost always drawn from his throat.Â
You see his curiosity as an effort to check in.
He only hums, hollower than his usual responses. The sound of his footsteps fill the gaps of what would typically be a seamless back-and-forth with you; you try not to comment on it.Â
Indinstinct chatter brings the street to life, smooth beats cascading warmth against the chilly breeze. Despite the noise, Gojoâs silence feels unsettlingâas if there are words forming at the tip of his tongue, withheld for reasons you canât quite get a read on just yet.Â
So, you wait, learning more and more that he usually comes around whenâ
âDid you?âÂ
The question is half-murmured, part of it lost to the night.Â
Did you what? Notice Tsumiki?
âHm?â you tilt your head towards him, tucking strands of hair behind your ear in an attempt to hear him better.Â
He doesnât answer.Â
You stop walking.Â
âDid I what?â you adjust your coat before turning towards him, catching the slightest of his gaze before he looks away quickly.
(âDid you make honmei chocolate?â he means.)Â
Still, no answer.Â
The tips of Gojoâs ears dust pink, and you try not to comment on that too.
His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, slipping free before his Adamâs apple bobs, swallowing.Â
âWanna see something cool?â he changes the subject, removing his sunglasses and turning back to you as if none of it happened. As if he didnât ask you anything, as if you didnât ask what he meantâas if you didnât just catch him at the tail end of a wistful stare.Â
The shift in his tone happens so suddenly, it feels disjointed. Unnatural. But youâve gotten used to moments like this from knowing him for so long; Gojo always says less of what he truly means.Â
You focus on his face, yellow and red retro lights dancing on clear blue. He looks almost freakish this way, otherworldlyâa crazed look youâve gotten familiar with. His hands are stuffed inside his pockets when he stops, gangly long legs outstretched by the shadow beneath him.Â
Thereâs really no time to be doing this right now, the both of you just 10 minutes away from the missionâs locationâan abandoned building housing a special grade curse that lures people in with fabricated memories. Around you, the neighborhoodâs nightlife has dwindled, your walk thus far having brought you farther from the heart of the place and closer to somewhere quieter, more secluded.Â
Gojo looks too excited, eyes beaming wonder and mischief along with something else you canât quite figure out yet. You purse your lips in thought.Â
âCâmon, itâll be quick.â he smirks, the dimple on his cheek deepening as he shrugs, âIâve finally perfected it.â
A beatâskipped before your heart races.Â
You wonder if he knows, if heâs using this to his advantage, becauseâ
âwhen have you ever denied him when he looks at you this way?Â
The higher-ups should have known better than to pair you together for a mission. Your instructions were merely âto assistâ, but you hardly believe it considering Gojo almost always handles these things on his own. Itâs more babysitting, you know, to keep the damages of his technique to a minimum.Â
They shouldnât have called on you, of all peopleâyouâre on Gojoâs side. Always.Â
A smile threatens to escape your lips, warmth spreading within your cheeks; you roll your eyes jokingly, stifling a giggle before relenting.
âFine.âÂ
He guides you forward, chest bumping against your shoulder blade as he picks up pace. Itâs a clear road ahead of you, the streets emptying out to more greenery; your senses are filled with the smell of the earth mixed in with the faint cotton of Gojoâs cologne.Â
This is bad for your feelings.Â
(Being this close to you feels like the ticklish drag of fingernails just right before it creates indents in his chest.)Â
Thereâs something brewing between you and Gojo, neither of you have just addressed it yet. He pulls away when the moment is too close but still looks for you first after missions, an almost automatic question to either Shoko or Ijichi about your whereabouts.
Youâve been catching his stares too, almost always at the split-second before he turns awayâa reaction on impulse. The silence between you feels fuller lately, as if there are words he wants to say but is choosing to withhold.Â
When the space is vacant enough, he steps a few inches to your right, left hand stuffed inside his pocket as he shakes his arm hesitantly, almost awkwardly.Â
âYou have to hold on to me,â he instructs you.Â
Your eyes widen, equally surprised and shy as you slowly take your hand out of your coat and slip it into the empty space, resting it on the crook of his elbow. Gojo freezes very slightly.Â
He shakes it off just as quickly, âYou might be sensitive to my domain because of your technique, so stay close just to be safe.âÂ
Then, his head tilts towards you, a little closer than youâre both used to. This near, his eyes hold a perfect morning sky, eyelashes hanging like wispy clouds on a clear day.Â
Your gazes meet and you blink twice, goosebumps littering your skin.Â
âDonât let go, okay?â
Another beatâfollowed by another, and another, the sound of it growing louder.Â
You almost miss the way he says it gentler than normal, how sincere it feels with his breath tickling your cheek.Â
âOkay,â your fingers curl around his arm tighter.Â
He lifts his other hand up, crossing his fingers as he recites the mantra to his domain. In an instant, the greenery around you disappears, stark white taking its place.Â
âWhat do you think?â Gojo asks almost immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. Your fingers stay curled onto the crook of his elbow, sandwiched between his forearm and bicep; his other hand rests a few centimeters away from yours, nearly touching.Â
You scan the space, examining its vastness. Minimalist. A blank sheetâ
âItâsâŠâ you try to find the right words, â... empty?âÂ
He gasps exaggeratedly, âHey!â then pouts in fake offense, âI made it porcelain white at least. This isnât pure white you know.âÂ
You eye him from the side.
He chuckles, breaking his act, âYou should be honored.â
A pauseâhis tone shifting to something softer, more vulnerable.Â
âYouâre the first person Iâm bringing in here.âÂ
His admission is unexpected, but it feels relevant, makes you feel like it, too.Â
Youâre touched, knowing how secretive heâs been on perfecting his domain since Toji and Geto; he only ever tells you and Ijichi about it. No one ever pressured him into achieving his perfect domain, but he feels like his existence necessitates it.Â
âItâs clean,â you finally say, playing along, âI like it.âÂ
He eyes you this time, dimples deepening the more he attempts to poorly push down his smile.Â
âShame I canât really do much with it, would have wanted to spice up the interiors a bit.âÂ
You snort, knowing full well that Gojoâs very much the type to pick one piece of furniture and anchor the entire placeâs aesthetic off of that.Â
âSomeday,â you catch his eyes again.Â
(It echoes in his ears, the quickening thump of his heartbeatâpink noise that canât possibly be a product of your technique.Â
In the silence of his domain, all he hears is that sound and you.)Â
He hums before looking back to the empty space, âAcoustics would be good by then, we can try your technique in here.âÂ
You nod, the corners of your lips curling; his pinky presses against yours so faintly you wonder if you just imagined itâif he had meant it or not.Â
.Â
The special grade is dealt with within a quarter of the time it took you to travel to here, but Gojo seems to bear the consequences with another one of his migrainesâa mixture of fatigue from activating his domain earlier along with sensitivity from the increased bustle in Shimokitazawaâs night life as you exit the neighborhood.Â
You make a mental note to get him something that covers his eyes a little bit more than those circle frames he usesâan imbued blindfold maybe? Youâll have to think about it some more.Â
(When you both get âhomeâ, you set up the couch, offering him the spare bedroom so he can sleep off the headache. Itâs a quick trip to the kitchen for a glass of water when he catches a glimpse of itâa fully decorated box of honmei chocolate partially hidden at the corner of the counter.Â
The card has half of his name written in your handwriting.
You donât end up giving it, but he does receive some chocolates from you, still. Itâs a belated gift the next day, along with the ones you gift to Shoko, Yaga, and Ijichiâa tradition youâve kept up since you were 16.Â
But, his box has an extra piece, and you even tailored each one to all his favorite flavors: sakura, strawberry, zunda, and anko; his card is the same one you left half-written, just now fully spelling âSatoruâ.Â
So, he thinks his might be a bit more special, and heâs realizing that he likes it that wayâhe might prefer it much more, actually.)
a/n:Â haven't written col in a while but this is the official launch of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within the 'conversations of love' universe! there are lots of details that connect to some of the col works but this happens before all of the ones released so far (so you don't need to read the main series to understand this, but it would add to the full experience if you do!).
thank you notes: @augustinewrites love u my valentine, this fic wouldn't exist without you đ„č + @stellamancer col couple is here!! with chocolates!! thank you for going over this for the first read đ„č ily niku + @mididoodles @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat my cheerleaders!! thank you for the support always đ„č
comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated âĄ
#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#jjk x reader#gojo fluff#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk#satoru#gojo x you#gojo x yn#gojo x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x yn#jjk x y/n#rated#shotorus.writes#col#dykwlil#shotorus.events#how to be your lover boy collab
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Handlebars
Day 1:
My first day of college was a lot more stressful than I thought it would be. I finally made it to residence last night, which only gave me one night to get settled before classes started. I was nervous to meet my roommate because of all of the horror stories I had heard about them in the past, but it ended up being so much worse than I expected. In my mind, the worst outcome was some lazy douche who never cleaned up after himself. So you can imagine my shock when I knock on the door and a full grown 30 something year old man answers the door.
"Hey, buddy. The names Mike, come on in."
He looked and sounded like a jock in a college movie, but when the actor is actually 30. His voice was deep and buttery, it almost gave me butterflies. I just smiled awkwardly and walked past him through the door.
"I'm Oscar by the way." I introduced myself.
"Cool, I'll just call you Handlebars." He said, without a care in the world.
He sat down on his bed, and that was the extent of our interactions for the day.
Day 7:
It's been a week and all my other worries about roommates came true. Not only is he 15 years older than me, he's a slob. He gets home from the gym drenched in sweat and throws his gym clothes wherever without cleaning them. He doesn't do his dishes, or any chore for that matter. In fact it seems like he intentionally keeps the place dirty after I try to clean it. And whatever musky cologne he wears attacks my nose every time I open the door, it feels like the smell seeps into everything, including my clothes.
The few times that he actually wants a chore to be done, he just asks me to do it, or rather he just tells me to do it. Normally I would be happy to tell him to go fuck himself, but I always find myself doing whatever he asks. I hate it.
"Yo Handlebars, be a doll and clean the dishes for me."
"Yo Handlebars, I ran out of clean gym clothes, mind running em down to the laundry for me."
It's like he's casting a spell whenever he talks.
Day 15:
I've started to settle into routine. The things that used to bother me about Mike seem a bit more trivial now. We've even started to become pretty close. I get enthralled by his conversations about business. He goes on and on about his father's enterprises, and how they'll be his soon.
I even started going to the gym with him lately. He lent me some of his gym clothes, even if they're way too big. It just made me appreciate him more. I never really clocked how jacked he was, sometimes he goes to the gym shirtless and it shows off his massive pecs and thick biceps.
Since joining him, I've noticed my body has improved quite significantly. I used to be skinny and lanky, but there is definition starting to show throughout my body.
Day 30:
Just a month into school and I was already on my way to failing out. I just don't care about it anymore, but Mike gave me a solution. He said I could just switch programs and do business with him, and his dad would even pay for it. How could I pass that up.
Now that I've switched, it's like all stress in my life has disappeared. Business is so easy, and now I have more time with Mike. We usually have a routine of going to the gym after our last class of the day.
"Yo Handlebars, you're lookin strong man. I'd kill to grow as fast as you."
He shouted at me from across the gym, when he caught me staring at myself in the mirror. Butterflies flew through my stomach when he said that. And he wasn't wrong, I've been noticing a lot of changes in my body. My face has matured, my eyebrows are thicker, my nose is bigger, and my jawline is more square. I even have to shave now, when I never had to before college. A five o'clock shadow engulfs my face by the end of the day, especially above my lip. The rest of my body has gotten hairier too, especially around my pecs, arms, and legs. And that's not even mentioning my progress at the gym. I actually look like I belong there, my biceps have a nice roundness to them and my chest actually sticks out from my body. Those gym clothes that Mike gave me look smaller and smaller every day.
Life in the dorms has also been a dream. I've been wearing that cologne that Mike loves, and it's like I unlocked a whole new level of confidence. People seem to love listening to me talk, and people seem to respect me more.
Day 60:
This past month has been the best month of my life. Now that I'm in my mid twenties, I can drink whenever I want. Mike and I go out raves and frat parties basically every night, my body is basically used to every drug at this point. And with Mike's dad paying for college, I literally don't need to show up to lectures and I get straight A's.
"Fuck, bro. I think you're bigger than me Handlebars."
Mike said with a shocked face when we were snapping pics at the gym. We flexed beside each other, and it was obvious. My biceps dwarfed his, and his gym clothes had become really tight on me lately. The shirt was skin tight against my upper body, showing off my juicy pecs and my growing six pack. And the shorts looked like they were about to burst under the pressure of my ass cheeks and thighs, to the point that the outline of my dick was constantly visible.
"Here bro, take this."
Mike handed me a package. It was filled with gym clothes and jocks.
"Just for you Handlebars."
I yanked him in for a bro hug, I could feel myself blushing.
"You got this all for me bro?"
"Fuck yeah, man. You've been grinding it out in the gym, don't think I haven't noticed my clothes straining against those muscles. And you need something to contain that snake in your pants before we get campus security called on us."
Mike chuckled, his laugh was infectious.
Day 100:
I started in the mirror. Sometimes I barely recognize myself. The confident and cocky mask goes away when I'm alone, just leaving the caring gym bro that's on the true inside.
Damn, I think to myself, Mike is making me too sappy. I give myself a cocky smile after shaving my face, leaving me with a thick moustache. I flex, admiring my guns and bouncing my pecs. Man I look good for a man pushing his thirties.
"Fuck, handlebars. Since when were you so hairy?" Mike asked me when I left the bathroom.
"What? Are you jealous I'm manlier than you bro?" I taunted him by opening my button up wider, revealing the thick pelt of hair that covered my body.
"Nah, it's got me feelin something tho." He smirked at me.
"Hah, I fuckin knew it. You want a piece of this." I bounced my pecs.
"Don't make it gay bro, it's not like that. Just a dude admiring another dude." He blushed.
The tension between us had been building for weeks. He would stand too close when spotting me at the gym, and I'd catch him staring at me in the mirror. Not like I haven't been doin it too. We also wear less clothes around the dorm. I still got that jock strap Mike gave me a while back, I'd be lying to myself if I said it fit but I don't care, and it seems like Mike doesn't mind either. And sometimes I wear an open button up just cuz it makes my pecs pop.
Day 120:
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this." Mike whispered in my ear. His breath was heavy as he threw me against the wall. His dick was bouncing with excitement against my ass.
For context, a few hours ago we were at the gym like normal. At this point, we didn't even go to class, it was just gym and parties now. The tension had been growing at the gym forever, sometimes we'd release by foolin around in the showers, but it never went further a quick handjob when no one was lookin. It was different this time, he couldn't keep his hands off me. Broad daylight in a busy gym, his hands would be far down my shorts, teasing.
At first I was dismissive. We already got caught multiple times by campus security, so close to getting kicked out of school. If it wasn't for Mike's dad being a rich alumni, I think both of us would be long gone by now. But he knew how to push my buttons, he always has. I gave in, but had the decency to drag him by the collar to the showers. At least there we could be naked.
Ok, back to the point. I grunted as his thick arms held me in place. Mike had been working extra hard to catch up to me, and it was showin. It turned me on, feelin his muscled forearms against my shoulders. But I wasn't gonna let him win that easily. What Mike seemed to forget was the near decade I spent in the Navy before comin to college.
I whipped around, using the hot water against our skin to slip out from his pin. I pushed his shoulder, sending him tripping over my foot, which I had conveniently placed behind his. I caught him like a damsel in distress, so there was no doubt in his mind who was on top.
Within seconds, it's like my training kicked in and I had him pinned down on his stomach. The bristles of my thick mustache rubbed against the back of his ear as I whispered, "You really thought you could top me?" I asked with a chuckle.
He moaned like a twink when I stuck my cock up his ass. It took a moment for his ass to adjust to takin a beatin rather than dishin one out, but he'll get used to it. The wet fur on my forearm slid across his back as I rode him like a bull. I could almost feel his organs rearrangin to fit my 10 inch rod.
I groaned as I felt months of sexual tension release in seconds, shooting my seed all through Mike's body. He was mine. And by the looks of it, he enjoyed the ride too. A trail of his cum ran from under his pinned body, to the drain in the middle of the showers.
"You're mine."
I whispered in his ear with a shit eatin grin.
"Now clean this mess up before you dare come back to my dorm."
I pushed off his back to get to my feet. I continued rubbing my cock as I walked away, making ropes of cum cover the showers. I walked right out of the showers and into the locker room, making sure to wink at campus security on the way out. Someone always calls them, and we always get away with it Scott free, so I think they gave up. It just feels good to make people know they're beneath you, and to do it while rubbin one out.
I cleaned up and walked alone to my dorm, sat on my couch, and waited for Mike to come back. After a few minutes, he walked in without a word. He walked over to me and laid in my lap as I turned on football. I smelled his hair, making sure he actually cleaned up like I ordered.
"Good boy." I reassured him while massaging his pecs.
Day 150:
I finally moved our stuff out of my shitty dorm. Mikey's father just decided to pay for our diplomas outright, instead of trying to turn all of our F's into A's.
We moved to L.A. and I fuckin love it here. I just walk around in nothin but a jock, and people love me for it. And there are so many entrepreneurs like me, so much money to be made.
Everyone just calls me handlebars, I can't remember the last time anyone called me my name. Now that I think about it, I don't even remember what it was, but who the fuck cares. I'm handlebars, the life of the party and the best fuck in this city.
526 notes
·
View notes
Text
someone â jude bellingham âËà·
contents: 1.6k words, fem!reader (she/her), fwb!bellingham is down bad, lil angsty but happy ending, they like each other so much SIGH
đ hanaâs note: hi my loves!! hope u enjoy <33 i actually had fun writing this, please tell me what u think 𫶠sorry if nothing makes sense LOL
đ main masterlist!
Jude was sure that the muscle on his wrist had gotten stronger in the span of three days. He moved to check his phone again for the hundredth time that day. The whole situation feels like a thirteen year old boy waiting for his girlfriend to reply to his text.Â
The only difference is that heâs twenty one years old, and his âgirlfriendâ is not actually his girlfriend.Â
His gloomy mood attracted his assistant who was off clicking the keyboard computer.
âWhose text are you waiting for?â they asked, immediately bringing him out of his little pity party.
His heart stuttered, âNo one.â he replies, shaking his head, before tucking the phone away into his pocket.
A skeptical look was thrown, âYeah, sure.âÂ
Jude took a minute before he relented, âSheâsâŠsomeone.â he sighed, not really in the mood to throw up his gut to his assistant.
He ran his hands through his hair down to his face, frustrated.
They were sure this âsomeoneâ was not just anyone, âThe same âsomeoneâ who had you giggling and kicking your feet last week?â his assistant smirked, noticing the little smile that Jude always wears every single time he stares at his phone.
But not in the last few days.
Recently, he has been more sad when he stares at his phone.
Heat trailed from the back of his neck to his cheeks, âI was not giggling and kicking my feet.â tummy twisting with nerves.
âOh, you so were. She has you wrapped around her fingers, Bellingham.â the keyboard clicking stopped, as a teasing smirk was sent his way.
Judeâs heart made a backflipâoh she definitely doesâ âSheâs just.. special. And I really really like her.â his cheeks heating up more as your pretty face fresh flashes in his mind.Â
âSo? Why don't you ask her out on a date?â
He sighed, âI would, but sheâs ghosting me.â
âSomeone ghosted THE Jude Bellingham? Damn, your ego must be hurt.â they laughed.
Jude took a deep breath, âIt's not about my ego, I justââ he paused, âI thought we were going somewhere, I like her and I thought that she liked me but I guess...â his voice trailing out as sadness coats his words.
His assistant noticed how Judeâs head dropped in disappointment, immediately feeling bad for him, and an idea lightbulb immediately went off, âGo to her place then.â
âWhat?â
The assistant shrugged their shoulders, âGo to her place. Ask her out.â
He coughed out, âShe doesnât wanna see me.â
âAsk her face to face, get confirmation. If she really doesnât wanna see you then, fine. But try at least! Fight for her!â their encouragement send Jude into a full dedicated state. Already having a full plan in his head.
ËÊâĄÉË
Screen lights from the tv illuminated your already dark room with a movie playing in the background. You really should be asleep right now. But your mind was too cloudy with a certain, seriously attractive, very sweet and nice footballer.Â
What did you think was gonna happen?
Getting into a friends-with-benefits with someone you harboured a big fat crush on was not the brightest idea.Â
Jude is a bigshot footballer, everyonesâ starboy, all he needs to do is smile and all girls fall to his feet (including you). The strategy of pushing him away was pretty solid, considering that he might not even notice that you havenât been replying to his texts.Â
He probably has hundreds of girls on his phone anyways.
Not that you care, he can do whatever he wants, heâs not your boyfriend.Â
Not your boyfriend.Â
Then why does it still bother you?
A sudden knock, broke you out of your spiralling session, shooting your heart rate up. Who knocks at 2 in the morning?
A buzz from your phone alerted you.
â
bellingham :)
Iâm outside your apartment
I need to talk to you
â
You contemplated opening the door, what do you even say to him? Another knock.Â
Another buzz.
â
bellingham :)
Please.
â
The door swung open and Jude was met with the sight of you, with tired eyes and a scowl on your face. You don't look too happy seeing him, and he doesn't blame you.
âAre you insane?! What do you want, Jude? Itâs two in the morning!â you huffed out, taking his wrist and pulling him inside. You do not want to get a complaint from your old cranky neighbours.Â
Both of your hands tingle the second it touches, fingers twitching as you hope the other doesn't notice. You move to pause the movie, hands gravitating towards the blanket on your couch before draping it around your shoulders. Trying to cover up your well-loved worn pyjamas.
You look like a mess.Â
Judeâs hand sweats in his pockets, his heart was pounding after finally being in your presence. With your messy hair, pretty droopy eyes, paired with your profile being highlighted by the tv. His heart rate shoots up when your eyes meet his.Â
You look really pretty.
Focus, Bellingham!
He awkwardly coughs, trying to cut the thick tension in the room, âYou still watching that show?â he voiced out, hand gesturing to the tv behind you.Â
It was a show recommendation from him. You had made fun of it at first, but then the plot was too good to be ignored, you needed to know how it ends.Â
You shrugged your shoulders, âYeah, I was curious.â voice small as your hands tightened around the blanket, bringing comfort to you.
A beat of awkward silence went on.
And Jude has had enough of it and decided to go for it, head first, no thoughts.
"Why are you ignoring me?" he finally said, saddened brown eyes met yours. You can feel your defence chip away the more you look at him.
You avert your eyes immediately, trying to formulate words, "I'm busy."
"That you ghosted me for three days straight?" he scoffed.
"Jude-"
"I don't think you understand how much youâre in my head." his voice shook, heart trembling in his chest, âI wake up and my first thought is to check if you have texted me back and you know how embarrassing it is to not see anything?"
You scoffed, âSo this is about your ego?â
âNo! I didnât say thatââ
Another scoff, "Jude donât lie, you get messages every single day. Your notifications are always flooded! Donât act like Iâm suddenly special!â you rolled your eyes, lungs burning with anger.
His face contorted into confusion before turning into hurt, âDid I give you that impression? That I don't care because youâre not special?â Judeâs voice cracked, maybe it was your head playing tricks but you swore his eyes were glossy with tears.Â
Anymore second looking at him than you might just break.Â
âJude-â you started.
âBecause I do! Iâll buy you more flowers, pick up your favourite coffee, watch those reality shows that you love so much, we can have a picnic or even a fancy dinner!â he rambled, hands animated as his feet started to move towards you, eyes pleading. âI really want this to work. I want to be in your life, as your boyfriend.âÂ
The distance between two got so small that you can feel his warm breath hitting your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.
He smells like mint.
Did he chew one before he got here?
The call of your name hits your ears, his voice soft and sweet. You really like how he says your name. You miss it. You like him. You miss him.
âPlease say something.â Jude whispered, eyes involuntarily dropping to your lips, cheeks warming under his gaze.
âI really really like you.â you softly said, nothing but a whisper but it sends just into cloud nine.
His eyes shined, mouth already opening to say something before you cut him off.
âBut-â
His heart dropped.
âBut?â
âJude, you can literally have anyone you want in the world!â you raised your voice. Tears pricking at the edge of your eyes. Why does he have to be so complicated? Why wonât he understand that you will never be enough for him?
By now, he can have a general sense on why you ghosted him. You have been insecure and worried ever since this little relationship started. Jude partly understands it, his popularity is intense and the media is poking at every nook and cranny of his life. Judging at the littlest things he does.
But he also doesnât understand because-
âBut, I want you! Donât want anyone else!â he exclaimed, big calloused hands move to the sides of your face, thumb softly running on your cheeks. âI want you.â he added, softly pressing a kiss at the apple of both of your cheeks.
A lovesick smile broke out on your face before you can even control yourself. âI want you too.â
Jude eyes twinkled at the sight. His heart elevates in the process. Was this a dream?
âPinch me.â he snickered.
Your hands move around his waist to pinch his skin, âDork.â you giggled, his smile getting wider at the sound.
A comforting silence blankets over you both. Smitten eyes staring at each other with heavy yearning. Hearts fully enamoured with the other.
A soft kiss was planted on your lips, tender and gentle as his hands moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. He canât get enough of you.
Your whole body was on fire. It has been so long since you both got together.
âJude-â
âMhm.â he hummed, lips still pressing against yours. His hands wander to wrap around your waist. It feels like he wants to eat you whole.
He definitely does.
You carefully pull away, chuckling at the small whine that leaves him as he chases you again, âItâs late.â you affectionately scolded.
âLetâs go to sleep then.â
âTogether?â you teased.
âYes, please.â
Well, how can you say no to that?
reblog for a kiss <3
#HI HI HI HI HI!!!!#i was giggling while writing this LOL#love u babies hope u guys are doing good đ«¶#hana writes!#jude bellingham#jude bellingham blurb#jude bellingham fanfic#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham one shot#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham angst#jude bellingham fluff
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Stuffing Stockings
Pairing: Wife!Reader x Husband!Spencer
Description: Spencer and you have been married for ten years with a beautiful six year old daughter. Whenever she gives you her Christmas list, you notice something new on the list and bring it up to your husband.
Content/Warnings: Dad!Spencer, discussions of expanding family, interest in being pregnant/wanting another baby, breeding kink, oral sex (f rec), penetrative sex, mention of failed test and disappointment, happy ending.
Word Count: 3.5K
Merry Christmas, my sweeties! Santa T is giving you a present because of how much I love you all!
âMama, I have my Christmas list ready!â Matilda announced, a bright smile on her face revealing the front tooth that the tooth fairy had recently come to take. She was a spitting image of Spencer, beautiful honey colored irises and soft brunette curls that framed her face, not to mention her intellect and her determination that no doubt her father had an influence on.Â
âYour Christmas list? Youâre early,â You smiled fondly as you looked over at the flower filled calendar on the wall closest to the stove, your coffee cup held comfortably between your hands. âLet me hear it, come on!â You urge on, an excited grin on your face.Â
You always loved Christmas, however having Matilda just made the holidays so much better. Nothing compared to seeing her excitement whenever youâd place wrapped gifts under your Christmas tree, or when youâd ask her to help you make Christmas treats that her and Spencer would end up eating just days after they were made.Â
You wouldnât trade it for anything.Â
âWell. I would like an American Girl doll, Rebecca Rubin to be exact.â Not a surprise. She loved dolls, her father spoiling her with any accessory or set she asked for. âAnd then I would like some light up sneakers, please. Sam has some at school and I think they are so cool!â She continued. The rest of the things she lifted were usual for a little girl. Until she got to the last thing on that list.Â
âAnd then I want a little brother or sister.â She concluded, a wide grin on your face. The mere suggestion had you nearly choking on the mouthful of coffee, your eyes widening some. âUncle Luke and aunt Penny said that I have to write it in my list so it happens!âÂ
Penelope and Luke. Classic.Â
âA baby brother or sister?â You repeated, watching those beautiful curls bounce as the kindergartner nodded her head. âYou do know that they wonât be here in time for Christmas if that happens, right?â You asked, wanting to break it gently to her that even if she got what she wanted, it would be well past Christmas before she got a sibling.Â
âOh. I know. Babies grow in mommyâs bellies for nine whole months. Which seems like a long time but I think itâll go by fast! Oh please, mama?! A baby would be cute and cuddly, even whenever they are cranky!âÂ
The begging was tugging at your heart. She really wanted this, didnât she? You and Spencer were financially stable enough for you to stay home while he worked with the BAU, not to mention that you both could definitely handle Matilda and a new baby. âYou know I have to talk to daddy about this before we make a decision.â
After that, the idea of another baby was stuck in your mind. Your first pregnancy was rough, however you still really did enjoy the process of growing a future scholar who would change the world. Just thinking about it had you reminiscing, especially when it came to being pregnant. You could remember every appointment, the announcement to your friends and families, all the excitement that you and Spencer felt with every heartbeat and every little kick.Â
Your husband had gotten home relatively early on a Saturday evening after a long case in Tampa, Florida. He was toeing his shoes off by the front door in an effort to surprise you and Matilda, the two of you unaware he was even coming home today. You were in the kitchen making dinner while your shared daughter was at the table, happily coloring in her new coloring book.Â
 It was a blissful sight, the domesticity of it all bringing normalcy to Spencerâs busy and sometimes abnormal feeling life. âYou two look peaceful,â He decided to speak up, Matilda quickly turning in her chair to look at her father. With a wide smile and teary eyes, she was quickly leaping from the chair to run into your husbandâs expecting arms. âHi!â He chuckled fondly while kissing her cheek sweetly.Â
âI missed you!â She whined out, keeping a tight hold on her father. âI thought you werenât gonna home until after Christmas!â She added on, making Spencerâs heart drop. He loved his job but he hated being away for what couldâve been weeks at a time. That was the hardest part.Â
âHey, Iâm home now and Iâm gonna be here for Christmas. I promise. In fact,â He was picking up Matilda while resting her on his hip. âI need to see your Christmas list!â He grinned while bouncing his daughter. âMama, whereâs the list?â Spencer then asked as he turned his attention to you.Â
âOh, mama needs to talk to you about that!â The six year old in his arms perked up, making Spencer look at you with an amused, yet questionable look.Â
âTalk to me? About what? Donât tell me that Tilly wants to get a car or something already.â Spencer teased. A car mightâve been easier convincing depending on how he felt about expanding the family.Â
âNot exactly a car,â You laughed a bit while grabbing the list that had been neatly folded and stuck to the fridge with a magnet. âShe wants a new American girl doll, a new accessory set to go with said doll, light up sneakers, a dollhouse,â You paused while reading over the last item. âAnd a baby brother or sister.âÂ
Spencer felt like the items on the list were easy enough. A doll, some accessories, a dollhouse and sneakers. He could knock that out with just one shopping trip. However whenever he heard the last item, his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. âA new brother or sister, huh?â He asked slowly, glancing at the little girl who smiled widely.Â
âI know the baby wonât be here for Christmas, daddy.â Matilda just knew by the look in his eyes that he didnât wanna break the news sheâd have to wait for that. Her reassurance had him taking in a breath of relief though. That little girl was too smart for her own good.Â
âWell. Thatâs a big decision. You think youâre ready to be a big sister? Cause babies are a lot of work.â Spencer asked, a smile on his face at her sheer excitement he was entertaining the idea. âThey cry a lot. Plus, they always need a lot of attention. Thatâll mean that sometimes mama and daddy will be busy with the baby.â He said softly while rubbing her back.Â
âI know and itâs okay! Babies need more help because they canât really eat on their own or go potty in the bathroom, so thatâs why you and mommy will need to pay extra attention sometimes. But babies are small and cute! And they always want cuddles!â Now that sounded like something Penelope Garcia would say of course sheâd gotten to Matilda about the idea. She was just saying at the office that she was wanting another baby around.Â
You offered a smile. âWell, it sounds like youâve put a lot of thought into it, Tilly! You know that me and dad have to talk about it though, as grownups.â You added, although judging by your husbandâs wide smile and the twinkle in his eye, he was already sold on the entire Christmas list. Well, maybe this was easier to convince than a new car.Â
After dinner and baths were in order, it wasnât long before you and Spencer were tucking Matilda into bed for the night. Gently closing the door behind you both, Spencer finally turned his attention to you. âA new baby. Wow..â He brought up the idea immediately, his arms gently wrapping around your waist. âHow do you feel about the idea?âÂ
You smiled, body leaning back against his as you let out a soft hum of content. âWell, at first I was wary. Then the more I thought about it.. The more I really wanted it.â You said softly, head tilting up to face him more. âI mean, I think weâve got this parenting thing down. Plus, I miss being pregnant and having a baby around. I feel like itâs going to be a positive change for us. Parents of two.â
That was all Spencer needed to hear to have him sold completely. âI agree. We are pretty good at this.â He chuckled a bit while moving to press a kiss to the top of your head. âItâs always fun trying too, huh? Maybe All our practicing will pay off.â He teased, making you laugh as you were playfully hitting his arm. âHey! Iâm just saying what we are both thinking!â He laughed in return.Â
The both of you had retired to your bedroom for the night, gently closing the door behind you both. âItâs so good to have you home. Iâve missed you.â You sighed, offering a smile as you were heading over to sit on the edge of your shared bed. âItâs just not the same without you home but I know you have to save the world.â You smiled fondly, watching as your husband was shedding from his clothes.Â
âI know, honey. I miss being home with you and Tilly more than anything when I have to be gone.â Spencer expressed his own feelings before heading over to you, kneeling in front of you with a soft smile. âBut Iâm glad to be home now,â He began, pressing kisses to your legs while getting settled between them. His hands were working on the button of your shorts before tugging them down your legs. âBesides, Iâm gonna be here for the holidays and I even took the time off to make sure of it.â He hummed, his kisses moving to your inner thighs.Â
âWorking on the list early, I see.â You teased, brushing the mop of brunette curls from your husbandâs face as he was playfully nipping on your plush inner thigh, lifting his head.Â
âGuilty. I feel like this is the most expensive present Tilly is getting.â He teased, the both of you sharing a little giggle before he was going right back to where he started.Â
Those kisses ended with your hips being tugged close to the end of the bed, his tongue lapping over your clothed clit. âGod, Iâve missed you.â He murmured, hands working to tug your panties down your legs. Spencer was absolutely pleased with the sight of your glistening pussy, mouth salivating at the sight. It had been far too long for his liking.Â
âPretty girl. You look like youâve missed me too.â He purred, tongue moving to flick over your throbbing bud, only chuckling as you were already clutching his hair. He didnât make an effort to tease you long, tongue already delving into the warmth of your cunt as he was so focused on drinking every ounce of your essence, taking whatever you had to give him.Â
âSpencer, fuck.â You squeaked, legs practically locking around his head to keep him in place as he was too drunk on lapping and sucking at your desperate pussy. The thought of a new baby excited him in more ways than one.Â
There was the calm and innocent way that just had him thrilled to have a new baby and expand your beautiful family. Then there was the dirty and not so innocent side of him that knew there would be a lot of nights where he was stuffing your pussy just in an effort to get that positive test. Just the thought of his cum dripping down your trembling thighs was enough to have him hard as a rock, his cock begging for attention while he was so focused on giving you all of his.Â
While his tongue feverishly lapped at your wetness, his hands were gripping your hips just a little tighter. Truth be told, Spencer could get off merely from cunnilingus alone. He fed off of your pleasure, the way you would shove his head more into your weeping cunt for more was enough to make his cock twitch in his boxers right now.Â
Although even through all the excitement, he was soon pulling away from your pussy much to both of your dissatisfaction. âI feel like Iâm gonna cum in my boxers and Iâm not wasting what I could be giving you,â He added on, breathing labored as he was quickly getting up to shed his boxers while you were quick to do away with your clothes on your torso, shirt and bra thrown somewhere out of sight and out of mind.Â
With one hand tugging at his cock, the other was quickly helping you scoot back on your bed, knowing youâd end up flying off if he dared pull you even just an inch closer from your current spot.Â
âComfortable?â He asked, watching you simply grab his arm to pull him on top of you. You didnât even mind the feeling of his body crushing you for a split second, you knew that you needed him, now. Spencer was adjusting himself into a more comfortable position on top of you, his hand sliding between your thighs. He collected some of your arousal on his fingers before holding them up to show them off to you.Â
You knew what was coming next, your mouth now open as you were waiting for the intrusion of his fingers. He learned it was the easiest way to keep you quiet when you needed to be. As you took the digits in your mouth, you were sucking on his fingers. âThere we go.â Spencer praised as he was shifting, now pushing his leaking cock into your pussy with a soft groan.Â
âI love you.â He breathed, letting his hips slowly snap against yours just to build you up for what was to come. Your face was contorted in pleasure as you muffled an âI love youâ around his fingers in return.Â
The thought of you being pregnant was bringing out an animalistic side of your normal gentle husband. He loved seeing you pregnant with your first, it made him feel like he was finally contributing to society in the aspect of bringing another potential genius into the world who would do amazing things. The way you looked swollen with his child filled him with pride.Â
It was also a bragging right. Yes, he had your hand in marriage but he also cemented the fact you were his. You were getting filled with his cum, begging him to ravage you the way you deserved. He was the only one who could make you feel good.Â
The thought of you being pregnant with his second child was enough to make his thrusts get harder and faster. It was the ultimate act of love to carry his child, to raise a family with him. The ultimate act of intimacy of allowing him to know the pleasures of a family and a successful marriage.Â
You were squirming underneath him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Spencer was all too focused on the images flooding his mind. âIâm gonna cum.â He panted. âYou want me to fill you up? Give you a baby? Fuck.â Cursing was pretty rare for Spencer but just the mere slip of a curse word had your pussy clenching around his cock, signaling you were ready as well.Â
With a few more sloppy snaps of his thrusts, you could feel the warmth of his spent flooding your cunt, your legs trembling as the sensation was enough to have you reaching your climax. âFuck.â You panted, your husbandâs fingers now being pulled out of your mouth.Â
His face was flushed, brunette curls plastered to his sweaty forehead as he looked down at you. âYou know, I wish we had this idea before. Christmas is coming up so soon, we wonât even be able to get a positive test for her in time for the holiday if we get lucky after this time.âÂ
âI think that Tilly is gonna be happy either way, to be fairly honest. You shouldâve seen the way she looked at me when she was asking for a new sibling. She was so excited.â You recalled, smiling in content as you were slowly, but surely, catching your breath.
With soft eyes, Spencer leaned down to press a sweet kiss against your lips. âIâm really happy she brought it up first. Iâve been wanting another baby for a while but I didnât want you to feel obligated.â The confession had your hand lightly swatting at your husbandâs chest.
âWhy didnât you talk to me before?! I never wouldâve felt obligated. Iâve always wanted a big family, you know that.âÂ
The reassurance had your husband chuckling fondly. âI know, I know. I promise that for the next little Reid, Iâll get to you before our daughter.â He teased, nose nuzzling into your cheek before he was pushing himself out of bed. âLetâs go get you cleaned up, mama.â
â--
It was currently the third week of January, Matilda freshly back in school for the second semester. It was after you dropped Tilly off at school that you were feeling off. Youâd been sick the past week or so, mostly just chalking it up to be a bug Matilda seemingly brought home. The more awful you felt, the more you were worrying. Being pregnant wasnât a problem at all, however the way you would get your hopes up would be.
Youâd pushed the idea back for a while, it wasnât until you were sick for the fifth time that you figured that the test would be better than nothing. Youâd only gotten one negative, however with the brain of your husband and his facts about conception, he still gave you some hope.
The sound of the timer going off in the bathroom snapped you out of your thoughts. It was now or never. As you approached the bathroom, you could feel your heart begin to race. If you were pregnant, that would be the best little surprise for your little family. If not, well, youâd at least get to be heartbroken in peace.
Taking in a deep breath and mustering up all of your courage, you were lifting the test from the sink. You felt like you were going to be sick from a mixture of your ailment as well as the nerves. You exhaled the breath you took in seconds before, eyes fixed on the test.
Pregnant.
You nearly fainted, free hand covering your mouth from the surprise. Pregnant, youâre pregnant. Pregnant!!!!
You were thrilled, the test being tucked away in its box before you were hiding it away. You were going to have to show Spencer and Matilda when they got home. You didnât have the strength to keep it a huge secret and put a surprise together, they needed to know as soon as possible.Â
Spencer had gotten to go home early in order to pick up Matilda, something rare that Emily gave him the chance to do considering he was away so much as is. If only those two knew what they were coming home to.Â
You were just getting finished with a snack for your daughter whenever you heard the sound of keys jingling in the door. Itâs now or never!
âWe are home!â The little voice called from the living room, the child taking off her coat and backpack before making sure to hang them up.
âHi you two.â You offered a smile, pressing a kiss to your daughterâs cheek, followed by a quick peck on your husbandâs lips. âTilly, I have you a snack.â She hummed fondly, watching the little brunette hurry to the table. âYou might wanna sit down as well,â You informed your husband, who raised an eyebrow.Â
Without question, heâd approached the table before sitting himself down. âAre we in trouble?â He teased, making you roll your eyes fondly.
âNo. I just have something I need to tell you both.â You hummed, grabbing the wrapped box from the counter before placing it on the table. âI found this in the closet. It was addressed to you two, I think we forgot it around Christmas.â
âForgot it? Mama, we never forget presents.â Matilda spoke around a mouthful of apple slices, although her curiosity was piqued as she leaned against the table. âOpen it, daddy!â She urged.
As the colorful wrapping paper was peeled away, the male was opening the box. He knew what it was, however he wanted Matilda to have the first big reaction. The minute that the stick was on the table, you could practically see Matildaâs eyes pop out of their sockets from surprise. âDoes that say pregnant?!â She asked, looking at her mother with a wide smile. âThereâs a baby?!âÂ
Her excitement made you want to cry your eyes out. âThereâs a baby!â You gushed happily. âNow, I still have to go to the doctor because I donât have specifics just yet,â You began, although your daughter was all too happy to quickly run into your body, arms wrapped around your torso.Â
âWe are gonna have a baby!!!!â
#spencer reid#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid fandom#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfic#doctor spencer reid#spencer reid smut#dr spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#dad!spencer
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
don't hold your breath(nobody's home)
ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader
cw: 18+ content, dead dove, uncle-niece incest, non-con, loss of virginity, very minor blood description, forced alcohol consumption, alcoholism from leon ofc, reader gets slapped, age gap, guilt, one threat, fingering, p in v, non-consensual creampie, crying, idk leon feels entitled cause his brother sucks, reader hinted at having nice tits idk
a/n: sorry if this sucks ass... my motivation for writing has been non-existent w real life stuff n all the drama so... i feel like this is awful but here we are. title from razzmatazz by idkhbtfm... not proofread i'm sorry </3
word count: 1.9k words
Leon knew he had a drinking problem. He just hadn't realised it had gotten this bad. He couldn't even get his dick up with viagra anymore. He frowns as he looks down at the brunette he was planning to fuck, tempted to try and just push it in soft.
He ends up just kicking her out to drown his sorrows. He wasn't dealing with this shit tonight, not when he was seeing his asshole brother tomorrow. Pretty wife, perfect kids. His job pays better than Leon's ever will, and he didn't need to undergo years of trauma. Lucky bastard.
Leon does what he does best that night and drinks enough whiskey so he can pass out without worrying about the nightmares coming to ruin his night.Â
⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . âŠ
He hasn't seen you in a good six years. You were still playing with dolls and shit when he last visited. Makes him feel stupid when he brings you a plushie as a gift. Clearly he forgot how time worked, cause he still expected you to be thirteen. You still hug him and say thank you, sweet as ever. When his brother said he'd be watching the house and looking after you, he didn't expect to see you so... grown. Too old to need a babysitter, really. Even if your parents are gonna be gone for a week.
He gulps as his hands settle on your hips, trying to prevent you from pressing against his hardening cock. Down boy. At least his dick still works. It just took his college-aged niece to get it up. Doesn't help that you've got your tits smooshed against his chest.
Therapy was gonna be a doozy this week.
He could only pray that this doesn't turn into anything. The last thing he needed was his dick being the thing that got him thrown into prison for doing something stupid to you, no matter how cute that body of yours is. That's a new one, he thinks, mentally slapping himself for even thinking about touching you like that. He'd never do it, of course. That's sick, and he knows it. He's just so frustrated. And you're hot. A total babe. Somehow, you managed to get a better rack than your mom. Must be the Kennedy genes coming in. Leon's got tits for days.
He knew he had a drinking problem, but he never thought he'd lose himself this much. He never thought about hurting anyone. He's not a bad guy. It's just that every time he tried to be with someone, he just couldn't get his body to react the way he wanted. That's what the oxytocin was for, he thought, already thinking about taking a swig of whiskey from the flask in his pocket. If only that fucking stuff worked on him. The part of his brain that controlled his cock seemed to be permanently on vacation, and his wires clearly got crossed somewhere if he wants to fuck his own blood.
Whatever. He could get through a week alone with his niece without any trouble. He's faced worse monsters than the ones making themselves present in his mind right now. He'd keep his distance, and all would be okay.
⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . âŠ
That didn't work. Of course it didn't. You were just as clingy with him as you were when you were a kid, following him around like a lost puppy. He's convinced he's clutching the glass of whiskey in his hand hard enough to shatter it as you curl up against his side. His cock is throbbing, and he seriously hopes you don't notice how the fabric of his jeans is getting a little strained.
You really need to stop with those tits. He's gonna lose it if they brush his arm one more time. He's not sure what it is about you, particularly, that has him acting like a teenage virgin again, but his self-control is wavering by the second. He hasn't paid a single second of attention to the movie he was meant to be watching to keep his mind off of you.
Fuck this.
He takes a swig of whiskey that drains half the liquid in his cup in one gulp. Liquid courage and all that. Maybe he'd drunk a little too much while he was here, âcause his brain clearly isn't working right. Not when he's pinning you to the couch, kissing your neck despite your protests.
âLeon⊠Leon, what're you doing?â You force out, small hands pressing at his chest as if you'd be able to knock him off. Cute. He'd fought creatures six times your size. You didn't stand a chance.Â
He starts undressing you, and you start writhing and crying, hitting his chest with clenched fists. He swallows the lump that builds in his throat, wiping the tears that fall down your cheeks.
âShh⊠it's okay, I'm⊠I'm gonna take care âf you.â He murmurs, his voice slightly slurred from how much he'd drunk. You cry even harder when he presses a finger into you, making the guilt rise up faster in him. That's not fair. He's being nice. God didn't bless him with much, but at least he gave him a fat cock. You should feel lucky he's prepping you. Not making him feel bad.
âHey.â He warns, shoving another finger in just to shut you up. You finch when he scissors you open. Poor thing. âThat's enough. One more complaint for you, and I'll just force myself in.â
Shit. Now he really does feel like a monster. He's not drunk enough to handle the pure terror on your face at his words. He fumbles on the coffee table with his free hand as he lazily pumps into you with the other. Glass? No. Bottle.
Maybe you need some, too. Get you nice and pliant so you'll take his dick without bitching. Not a bad idea. He twists the cap off with his teeth, gulping some of the liquid down himself. He takes another mouthful before leaning down to kiss you, spitting the liquid into the back of your throat. He keeps your mouth on yours even as you try to jerk away, making sure you swallow it.
You really are adorable as you start coughing and spluttering. Such a sweet thing, you probably hadn't even drunk before. He lifts the bottle to your mouth, pouring some more into your mouth before setting it down, covering your mouth. âSwallow.â
He starts thumbing at your clit as he fingers you, relishing in the ways your whimpers turn into soft moans, your hips bucking against his hand. He manages to coax an orgasm out of you with a few more touches, a big smile spreading across his face.
âThere we go, sweetie. See, that wasn't so bad, was it?â He coos, unbuttoning his jeans. The sound of the zipper has your eyes widening in horror, and he tuts softly. âWhat're you giving me that look for? It's your turn to take care of me now.â
There goes the begging and pleading again. It has his brows pinching together as a frown tugs at his lips. You really are his brother's kid. So goddamn ungrateful. He just took care of you, and now you just want him to⊠what? Fist his dick in the guest room?
He smacks you so hard your head snaps to the side, your breaths coming out in short gasps. You look better like that, tears stinging your eyes but your body completely limp. He can see the fight draining out of your eyes.
âI was gonna be nice.â He mumbles, brows furrowing as he lines his tip up with your entrance, forcing himself inside in one thrust. He groans loudly, shuddering as your tight heat envelops him. His eyes look down, locked onto your cunt as he fucks into you with long strokes. He freezes when he notices blood. He's not sure if he's happy or disgusted that he's your first. No wonder you put up such a fight.
You keep weakly begging him to stop, but your pussy is gushing all over him. It's not his fault he can't stop â you're giving him the hottest look he's ever seen, and your puffy cunt is so fucking greedy for his cock, sucking him back in everytime he starts to pull out.
âS-sorry⊠I'm so sorryâŠâ He grunts, picking up the pace of his thrusts, groaning at the sound of your punched out moans as he drives into you with as much force as he can muster. You almost sound like you're enjoying it, but you're still fucking crying and he can't take it. His heart hurts.
âBaby, pleaseâŠâ He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn't have to see the betrayal on your face. His arms tremble as he holds himself up, sloppily fucking into you. âI'm sorry⊠just stop cryinâ, pleaseâŠâ
Every time his hips smack the fat of your ass, you're moaning out a âpleaseâ. With his eyes shut, he can pretend you're begging for more. That you like this. That is, until you start saying âstopâ. He winces, but the movement of his hips doesn't falter.
âFuck, baby⊠please stop begging.â He pleads, throwing his head back as his tip kisses your cervix. He whimpers as it makes you tighten around him, angling his thrusts to hit that spot each time he fully sheaths himself inside of you.
âI-I can't stopâŠyou feel so⊠fuck. So fucking good. M'so close.â He groans. He can't even find the strength to pull out anymore. He buries himself balls deep in your cunt, grinding himself into your tight heat.
âL-Leon⊠please.â You say weakly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as panic sets in, your hands pushing at his chest. âY-you gotta pull out, you can't⊠you can't.â
âWhat?â He breathes out, cracking his eyes open to look at you again. He looks genuinely confused. Why would he ever pull out when you felt so good? He can't bring himself to. âBaby, no. I'm cumming inside of you. Can't pull out now.â
That seems to bring your fight back. You start struggling under him again, punching him with all your strength. Luckily, that's not a lot. Especially when you're sluggish from your first time drinking and getting fucked. It's Leon's lucky day.
âShit, baby. Don't look at me like that.â Or do. He's gonna cum if you keep staring up at him with that wide-eyed expression. âNo need to be so scared, princess. I just⊠shit. Can't help myself.â
Doesn't take longer than a minute after that for him to finish. He buries his face in your neck, whining as he cums. His cock kicks inside of you, the warmth of his release filling every inch of you. You start sobbing all over again, slumping weakly against the couch.
He lies on top of you, his weight pressing you down into the couch. He pets your hair like you're a doll, his fingers carding through your hair.
âI'm sorry, baby. Forgive me. I'll be so good. Do whatever you want. Didn't mean it.â He murmurs, kissing your cheek over and over as if he's trying to get you to relax. He keeps it up until you fall asleep, wrapping you up in his arms.
When you wake up in the morning, you're fully dressed in your bed. You almost think it's a dream until you feel the dull throbbing between your legs.
#leon s kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x you#leon kennedy smut#leon s kennedy smut#leon kennedy#tw dark content#dark content#dead dove do not eat#dead dove fic
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Shifting Glances
Week after week, you see her in the waiting room.
Angst, Trauma, EMDR, Comfort, Fluff
Note: In this story, you'll find references to EMDR therapy. Iâve undergone EMDR therapy myself for several years, and while it has been challenging, it has also brought me relief. It's important to note that EMDR can be a unique experience for everyone. The way it's depicted here reflects my personal journey. If your experience with EMDR is different, that's completely okay. Feel free to share your thoughts, but let's all remember to approach these discussions with kindness and respect for one another's experiences.
The clinic smells of antiseptic and lavender-scented air freshener, a juxtaposition that somehow fails to be comforting. Youâve gotten used to it by now, the muted tones of the waiting room, the low hum of the fluorescent lights, and the way the receptionistsâ voices hover just above a whisper. Itâs always the same, except for her.
You glance up from your seat near the corner, fingers nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. Sheâs there again, across the roomâher presence nearly impossible to ignore. Sheâs sitting with her head tilted down, long blonde hair cascading over her shoulder, a face mostly hidden under the bill of a cap. Still, you know. Youâve learned to spot the details by now. Sheâs always wearing loose sports gear, her left knee often taped in some fashion, crutches sometimes leaning against her seat.
Youâre not a sports person, so at first, she was just another face, another person passing through the clinic, but then she became something moreâa mystery. Youâve stolen more than a few glances during the weeks youâve sat waiting for your turn. The routine was nearly identical: you both arrived at the same time each week, a brief flicker of acknowledgment between your eyes before you both looked away, as though there was something too dangerous in holding that gaze for too long.
Today is no different, except something feels heavier. Thereâs a quiet ache in your chest that refuses to leave. EMDR therapyâEye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessingâitâs exhausting, and today, it feels impossible.
You know youâll be going through the usual: being asked to relive memories, to feel things youâve spent years suppressing, and to heal whatâs been fractured inside of you. Itâs tiring and it leaves you feeling hollow at times, especially when you leave. The vulnerability in those sessions never fails to drain you, and you always wonder if itâs helping or just opening old wounds.
You steal another glance at her, curiosity buzzing beneath the weight of everything else. She has that same air of exhaustion, though you assume hers comes from something more physical. You donât know her, not really. Just a face, a woman who happens to sit in the same room as you once a week.
But today, you notice something else. Her fingers fidget more than usual, her eyes flickering between her phone screen and the door. Anxiety. Sheâs nervous too.
The nurse calls your name, interrupting your thoughts. You stand, giving her one last glance, but this time, you donât look away as quickly as you usually do. To your surprise, her gaze meets yours for the first time in weeksâreally meets it. Thereâs something in her expression, something you canât quite name. Maybe recognition. Maybe sympathy.
Your feet feel heavier than usual as you walk to the nurse, but thereâs a buzzing under your skin now. Her eyes linger on you even as you turn your back, a weight you feel but donât dare acknowledge. The conversation between the nurse and your therapist is distant, your mind still locked in that fleeting moment of connection.
Why did she look at you like that?
The door closes softly behind you, and you sit down on the familiar couch in your therapistâs office. The room is softly lit, the same as every week, but today it feels different. Or maybe you feel different. Your mind is already racing, though not about the usual memories that drag you under.
âReady to start?â your therapist asks, her voice calm, grounding you slightly.
You nod, but your mind keeps tugging back to the waiting room, to herâwhatâs-her-nameâsitting there with those tired eyes that somehow looked straight into you. Itâs not like it was the first time youâd stolen a glance. But it is the first time she looked back.
The session moves forward in a blur. The rhythmic back-and-forth of your therapistâs fingers in front of your eyes, the instructions to focus on your memories, to feel them without being overwhelmed by them. But today, itâs harder. Harder to concentrate. Harder to dive into the past when your present is hanging on the thread of something unspoken in that waiting room.
Why did she look at me?
The therapistâs voice blends into the background as your eyes follow her hand back and forth, back and forthâtrying to focus, trying to do what youâre supposed to. But the room feels wrong today. Usually, this process grounds you, pulls you deep into the recesses of your mind, where old wounds wait to be confronted. But today, your mind is somewhere else entirely.
More specifically, on her.
Youâve spent weeks perfecting the art of pretending she doesnât exist. A stolen glance here, a quick look away there. Sheâs always been on the periphery, a quiet presence youâve never acknowledged out loud. Itâs become part of your routineâpretending not to notice her, letting her fade into the background like the murmur of the clinic around you.
But today, she didnât stay in the background. Today, she noticed you. She looked at you. Not the polite, disinterested glances youâre used to exchanging with strangers in waiting rooms, but something else. Something charged.
Why did she look at me like that?
The therapistâs voice cuts through your thoughts, soft but firm. âStay with me. What do you feel right now?â
What do you feel?
You swallow, trying to push the image of her from your mind, but it doesnât budge. Her eyesâthe way they held yours for just a second longer than necessary, how something flickered in them before she quickly looked away. Recognition? Or maybe something else? Sympathy? Sadness?
âUm, I feel⊠I donât know,â you admit, shaking your head slightly, trying to focus. Youâre supposed to be processing your pain, your own tangled memories, but your brain is stubbornly clinging to the way her fingers fidgeted in her lap, the way her leg bounced with impatience. The way her shoulders seemed to carry an invisible weight, just like yours.
Your therapist doesnât push, though her eyes study you carefully. She shifts in her seat, slowly moving her hand back and forth again, drawing your focus back.
âStay present,â she repeats gently, and you try. You really do. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in slowly, trying to feel something other than the strange energy still buzzing under your skin.
But as soon as you open your eyes again, your mind is back in the waiting room. You can almost see her sitting there now, shoulders hunched, the corner of her lip pulled between her teeth as she stared at her phone, looking anxiousâmaybe even upset. Was it something on the screen that bothered her? Or was it the reason sheâs here at all? The knee she cradled with unconscious care, as though even sitting still caused her discomfort?
You donât know her story. You barely even know her name. But you canât shake the feeling that thereâs something more under the surface, something that runs deeper than just an injury or a tired glance. Something that mirrors your own pain in a way that feels unsettlingly familiar.
âCan we take a break?â you ask suddenly, your voice sounding too loud in the quiet room.
The therapist pauses, her hand still mid-movement. She lowers it slowly and nods. âOf course. Do you want to talk about whatâs on your mind?â
You hesitate. Talking about whatâs on your mind usually means revisiting the same memories youâve been unpacking for months. Trauma that youâve carried with you like a second skin, the kind that weighs you down and makes you feel like youâre suffocating in your own body. Thatâs what therapy is supposed to be forâthat pain.
But right now, itâs not the past tugging at your mind. Itâs the now. The girl sitting across from you every week, the unspoken weight of her presence lingering in your thoughts like a slow burn.
âI⊠Iâm just distracted,â you say, your voice quieter now, unsure.
Your therapist doesnât press, just nods in understanding. âThatâs okay. Sometimes our minds drift when weâre processing a lot. We can pick up whenever youâre ready.â
You nod, grateful for the reprieve, but your mind keeps spinning. The session feels heavier today. Usually, the weight is familiarâthe kind of weight youâre used to carrying alone. But now thereâs somethingâor someoneâelse filling your head, making it hard to sort through your usual patterns.
Why did she look at me like that?
You replay the moment in your mind again, trying to decode it. You tell yourself it doesnât mean anything, that youâre overanalyzing a simple glance. People look at each other all the time. She probably doesnât even remember it now, back to whateverâs pulling at her in her own life. But still⊠the way her eyes lingered.
Your thoughts tumble into a messy loop of frustration and curiosity. Did she feel something too? Or was it all in your head? Sheâs a stranger. Just a face youâve seen in passing. You donât know her, not really. But somehow, that one glance has you questioning everything.
The therapistâs voice breaks through again, softer this time. âDo you want to try and continue?â
You nod, even though your mind is still miles away from where it should be. As the therapist raises her hand again, beginning the familiar motions in front of your eyes, you take a deep breath, hoping this time you can focus.
But even as your gaze follows the movement of her hand, your mind drifts back to the waiting room, back to those tired eyes and the way they seemed to see something in you. Something youâre not sure you want to face.
And for the first time in weeks, itâs not your own memories that are haunting you.
As the session drags on, the rhythm of your therapistâs hand becomes background noise to the thoughts that swirl relentlessly in your head. You try to bring yourself back to the task at hand, back to the healing process youâre supposed to be focused on, but you feel adrift, untethered.
Her eyes wonât leave your mind. That flicker of somethingâconnection, maybeâthat felt so intense in that brief glance. You can still feel it, like a pulse thatâs not entirely your own.
It feels ridiculous, honestly. This isnât supposed to happen. Youâre here to heal, to peel back the layers of yourself and work through the wreckage inside your mind. Youâre here to process your trauma, not to get caught up in the orbit of a stranger who happens to sit across from you once a week. A stranger you donât even know by name.
Still, the thought of her consumes you.
Why did she look at me like that?
The question hammers in your brain, louder now that youâve allowed yourself to acknowledge it. Thereâs a strange comfort in the idea that maybe she sees something in you, too. That maybe the weight she carries isnât so different from your own. Youâve been drowning in your own pain for so longâwhat would it feel like to share that with someone who understands? To find recognition in someone elseâs eyes?
Or is that just you, projecting?
Focus. You need to focus.
You force yourself to sit up a little straighter, your hands gripping the edge of the chair as your therapistâs voice drifts back into your awareness. You know sheâs watching you carefully, noting the way youâve been distant, distracted, ever since you walked into the room. You havenât been present today, havenât really felt anything but the odd, lingering sensation of herâthe woman with the tired eyes and the worn knee brace.
You wonder what sheâs here for, what injury brought her to this clinic. Youâve pieced together the clues over the weeksâher knee, the way she sometimes leans on crutches, the soft wince she tries to hide when she stands up. Maybe sheâs an athlete, or used to be. Youâve caught glimpses of logos on her clothing that hint at something sports-related, but itâs not your world. You wouldnât know.
Yet despite not knowing, you feel itâthe heaviness in her, the same way you feel it in yourself. Thereâs something unspoken, something youâve both been avoiding in your stolen glances.
The therapistâs hand passes in front of your eyes again, and you try to refocus. You try to reach for the memories sheâs guiding you toward, the ones youâre supposed to be reprocessing. But the memories feel hazy today, like theyâre distant and out of reach. Usually, theyâre so vividâtoo vivid. But now, theyâre dulled by the present, by the way your mind is pulling you somewhere else entirely.
âLetâs take another pause,â your therapist suggests, her voice patient but concerned.
You exhale a breath you didnât realize you were holding, nodding gratefully. The tension in your body eases just slightly, but your mind is still racing.
âI thinkâŠâ you begin, your voice hesitant. âIâm just not all here today.â
Your therapist waits, giving you space to elaborate. You know sheâs used to this. Distraction is common during these sessions, but youâve never felt this kind of restlessness before. This kind of⊠preoccupation.
âThereâs⊠someone,â you admit finally, the words slipping out before youâve had time to really think them through. âIn the waiting room. I keep getting distracted thinking about her.â
Your therapist tilts her head, curious but not judgmental. âSomeone in the waiting room?â
You nod, feeling a little foolish now that youâve said it out loud. âYeah. I donât even know her name, but weâre always there at the same time. Weâve never talked, but today⊠today she looked at me differently.â
Your therapist stays quiet, letting you find your words. Her patience helps, but it also makes you feel exposed, like youâre admitting to something fragile and uncertain.
âAnd it justâitâs been stuck in my head,â you continue, your voice quieter now, as if saying it louder might make it too real. âI donât know why itâs affecting me so much. Itâs just⊠I canât stop thinking about it.â
Youâre not sure what you want from this confession. Reassurance, maybe? Validation? Someone to tell you that youâre not losing your mind over a brief glance from a stranger?
Your therapistâs expression softens, but she doesnât immediately dive into analysis. Instead, she asks, âWhat do you think it is about her thatâs sticking with you? Is there something familiar, something that reminds you of yourself?â
The question lingers in the air between you, and you feel your chest tighten. Itâs not something youâve allowed yourself to fully consider. The way she looks at you. The way she seems just as weighed down by something invisible. The recognition, maybe, of pain.
âI donât know,â you say, but the words donât feel entirely true. âMaybe.â
Your therapist nods thoughtfully, but doesnât press further. âItâs normal to connect with others in ways that might surprise us, especially when weâre going through difficult things ourselves. If she reminds you of somethingâof yourself, of a feelingâitâs okay to acknowledge that.â
You nod, but your mind is still racing. What is it that you see in her? Is it really just a reflection of your own pain, or is there something more? Something in the way she carries herself, the way her eyes met yours like she was trying to say something she couldnât put into words.
âDo you want to explore that more?â your therapist asks gently. âOr would you rather focus on something else for now?â
You hesitate, feeling torn. Part of you wants to dig into it, to figure out why this woman has such a hold on your thoughts. But another part of you feels scaredâscared of what you might find if you look too closely.
âIâm not sure,â you admit quietly. âI guess⊠Iâm not sure if Iâm ready to.â
Your therapist nods again, understanding. âThatâs okay. We can take it at your pace. But if you want to talk about it more, we can always come back to it.â
You feel a strange mixture of relief and apprehension. Talking about herâabout that glance, that momentâfeels like opening a door youâre not sure you want to walk through. But at the same time, you know that youâll think about it for the rest of the day. Maybe for longer than that.
As the session winds down, your mind is still preoccupied, but thereâs a little more clarity now. Maybe itâs not just the glance itself thatâs bothering you. Maybe itâs what that glance representsâthe possibility that someone else sees you in a way youâre not used to being seen. That someone else might be carrying their own weight, just as heavy as yours.
And as you step out of the therapistâs office, back into the familiar waiting room, your eyes instinctively search for her. For the woman who has somehow taken up so much space in your mind.
But now, her seat is empty.
And suddenly, the room feels a little colder without her presence.
The week drags on in a strange, heavy haze. Every day, your mind keeps drifting back to herâback to that brief, fleeting glance thatâs somehow managed to burrow deep under your skin. Itâs ridiculous, you tell yourself. Youâre overthinking it, turning something meaningless into something monumental. Youâve spent so long keeping people at armâs length, hiding yourself behind carefully constructed walls, and now, one moment with a stranger has you spiraling into obsession.
You try to shake it off. You try to focus on work, on your routine, on anything but her. But itâs like a splinter in your mind. No matter how much you push it away, itâs always there, just under the surface. You catch yourself replaying the moment over and over againâthe way her tired eyes locked with yours, the faintest flicker of recognition passing between you. Did she feel it too? Or are you imagining it?
On Wednesday, you find yourself walking past the clinicâdeliberately, even though you donât have an appointment. You glance through the glass door, half-expecting to see her sitting there, leg bouncing nervously, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. But the waiting room is empty, and the sight of it leaves you with a strange hollowness in your chest.
What if she doesnât come back?
The thought gnaws at you. Itâs irrational, but the possibility that you might never see her againâthat this inexplicable connection could vanish as quickly as it appearedâmakes you feel like something important has slipped through your fingers. Something you didnât even realize you were missing.
Get it together. You need to move on.
But by Friday, the restlessness is back in full force. You find yourself lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering. Wondering if sheâs thinking about you too. Wondering if she felt the same pull, the same strange energy lingering between you.
Maybe youâll never know. Maybe itâs better not to know.
But as the next week rolls around, you feel a nervous anticipation building in your chest. Your next appointment is coming up, and the thought of seeing her againâof what might happen this timeâhas your mind racing in a way that feels almost⊠dangerous.
What if sheâs there?
What if sheâs not?
The questions twist and turn inside you, and by the time your appointment day arrives, youâre practically buzzing with a nervous energy you canât quite contain. You tell yourself itâs stupid, that youâre being irrational. Youâre supposed to be focusing on your healing, not obsessing over some stranger youâve never even spoken to. But the truth is, you havenât felt this alive in a long time.
When you walk into the clinic, your eyes immediately sweep the waiting room. For a moment, the space feels empty, cold. But then, there she isâsitting in the same spot as always, her knee braced, her posture tense. Sheâs staring at her phone again, her fingers tapping the screen, but you notice the way her leg bounces restlessly. Thereâs a tension in her shoulders, a tightness in the way sheâs holding herself, like the weight sheâs carrying is a little heavier today.
You pause just inside the door, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. You werenât prepared for this, not really. Seeing her again feels like stepping into a current you canât control. You want to look away, to keep pretending sheâs just another person passing through your life. But instead, you find your gaze lingering on her, the same way it did last week.
And then, just like before, she looks up.
This time, thereâs no hesitation in her gaze. Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the room falls away. The world outside fades, and all you can feel is the intensity of her stare, the weight of something unspoken passing between you. Itâs like youâre both suspended in the same moment, tethered by something invisible and undeniable.
You freeze, unsure of what to do. Should you smile? Look away? Say something? But before you can make a decision, she shifts in her seat, straightening up slightly, her gaze flickering with something you canât quite read. Thereâs recognition there, yes, but also something deeper. Something like understanding. Or maybe even⊠curiosity?
Your throat feels tight, your pulse quickening. You donât know what to do with this feeling, this connection that seems to be growing stronger with every second you hold her gaze.
And then, she does something you didnât expect.
She nods.
Itâs subtle, just a small dip of her head, but it feels like a monumental shift. Like sheâs acknowledging youânot just as a stranger, but as someone⊠more. Someone sheâs noticed, someone sheâs maybe been thinking about too.
Your breath catches in your throat, and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself nodding back. It feels awkward, stilted, but itâs the only thing you can think to do in the moment. Itâs not much, but itâs something. A bridge, maybe. A connection.
You take a seat across from her, your body tense with nervous energy. You can feel her presence, like a subtle pull in the air between you. Neither of you speaks, but the silence isnât uncomfortable. Itâs charged, filled with all the things youâre not saying, all the questions youâre not asking.
The door to your therapistâs office opens, and her familiar voice calls your name. You stand up, feeling a strange reluctance to leave the waiting room, to leave her behind. But as you turn to head toward the office, you steal one last glance at her.
Sheâs still watching you.
And for the first time in weeks, you donât look away.
The session that follows is one of the hardest youâve had in a long time. The therapist guides you through your memories with a gentle persistence, pushing you to confront parts of your past that youâve been carefully avoiding. Today, itâs not just the weight of your own pain that feels unbearableâitâs the weight of everything youâve been holding back for so long.
Your memories of childhood are raw, jagged, and unsettling. You find yourself reliving moments of fear and isolation, the sting of harsh words, the bruises you tried to hide. The sessions are usually a mix of distant recollections and present-day reflections, but today, the past crashes into you with a force that makes it hard to breathe. Your motherâs anger, her frustration, her harsh wordsâtheyâre all too close, too real. Itâs like the boundaries between then and now have dissolved, leaving you exposed and trembling.
When the session ends, you barely manage to pull yourself together. Your eyes are red, streaked with tears, and your face feels hot and heavy with emotion. You nod to your therapist, a wordless acknowledgment of the work youâve done. You need airâspace to breathe and let the turmoil inside you settle.
You stumble out of the office, the hallway seeming longer than usual. You make your way to the clinicâs entrance, your steps unsteady, your mind still tangled in the remnants of painful memories. The cool air hits your face, and you stop just outside the door, letting it wash over you. It feels like a fleeting reprieve from the storm raging inside.
And then, you see her.
Sheâs standing there, just outside the door, her back to you. You recognize her immediatelyâAlexia. Sheâs wrapped in a coat, her arms crossed tightly in front of her. You can see her shoulders trembling slightly, and as you watch, she turns and looks at you. Her eyes are red and swollen, tears still glistening on her cheeks.
For a moment, neither of you says anything. The silence between you is heavy, filled with unspoken understanding. You can see the same rawness in her face that you feel in your own. Itâs as if both of you are caught in the aftermath of a storm, trying to find a way to navigate the wreckage.
Alexia takes a step toward you, her gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that makes your heart ache. âI didnât expect to see you,â she says softly, her voice wavering. Thereâs a tremor in her tone, like sheâs struggling to keep herself composed.
You open your mouth to respond, but no words come. The sight of herâso open, so unguardedâstrikes a chord deep within you. Itâs not just about the glance you shared or the way youâve been obsessing over her. Itâs something deeper, something youâve been grappling with in your own way.
âIâŠâ you start, but the words fail you. Instead, you take a tentative step toward her, the distance between you shrinking as you both stand in the cold air, the weight of your shared pain hanging in the space around you.
Alexia looks down, her voice barely above a whisper. âIâve been coming here for a while. I didnât think anyone noticed.â She pauses, her eyes meeting yours again, filled with a mix of sadness and curiosity. âYou looked at me today like you understood something. I felt the same way.â
Her words hit you hard, echoing the thoughts that have been circling your mind all week. Itâs as if sheâs voicing the unspoken connection you both feltâthe shared weight, the recognition of each otherâs pain.
âI didnât mean to stare,â you finally say, your voice rough from the emotions youâve been grappling with. âI just⊠I saw something in you. I donât know what it was, but it felt familiar.â
Alexia nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. âItâs strange,â she says, her voice breaking slightly. âIâve felt like I was carrying this alone. And then you came in, and for some reason, it felt like⊠like maybe someone else understood.â
The shared understanding between you deepens, and you feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, youâre not as alone as youâve felt. The connection youâve both sensed, the unspoken recognitionâitâs not just in your head. Itâs real, and itâs giving you both a moment of connection that youâve been craving.
Without thinking, you reach out, offering her a small, hesitant smile. âIf you want to talk⊠or if you just need someone to be here,â you offer, your voice steadying despite the tears still lingering in your eyes.
Alexiaâs gaze softens, and she nods. âIâd like that,â she says quietly. âI think Iâd like that a lot.â
Part 2
#woso x reader#woso#woso community#woso fanfics#woso imagine#alexia putellas one shot#alexia putellas fanfic#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas
417 notes
·
View notes
Text
Breathing This Calm Night - smut
Yunjin x Male Reader
ONE-SHOT
Tags: fluff, oral sex, one-shot, tightjob, penetration, k-idol, famous girl, secret relationship
A/n: This is my first request. Thanks @dav1233555 for the plot suggestion đ«Ą
The two of you were anxiously dragging yourself towards the end of the day. Slowly the hours passed, seeming to last longer than they should, while a hurried and hard routine was followed, with no time to even exchange a few messages.
But you were finally free, at least for now, from the mess that is a magazine of international relevance.
I'm arriving
You read the message and smiled at the phone screen. It wasn't crowded at the restaurant you chose to have dinner at. You reflected for a moment, and thought there was a bit of madness in what you two were doing, but it was indisputable that it was genuine and pure.
Truth be told, this whole thing was real. And thinking that this could be a bit crazy (in other people's eyes, to be more precise) only made your panoramic view of society more bitter.
After all, what was so great about being a foreigner and dating a K-idol? Well, you weren't the guy who was going to change the view of an entire society, so worrying about it was useless.
At least there was some security that this relationship would not be leaked to the media. Well, you were in fact part of the fucking media. There was support from the magazine you worked for (not that you were the owner or anything), and at least no one on your team would poke your eye out. Some other editors you trust already knew about your relationship. It was one of the countless advantages of being in a high position in the company and having a strong influence on what happened inside. I mean, someone from the magazine could try to fuck with you, snakes exist everywhere, doing this in an attempt to self-promote or even abandon ship, handing over the leak of your relationship to another magazine or tabloid (in the headline the motherfuckers would find a way to use the word "affair", just because your previous relationship ended a month before you met Yunjin). But you would discover the funny guy so easily that there wouldn't even be any fun in solving the mystery. All it took was a single call to your father, simply the greatest editor-in-chief who worked at the magazine's headquarters. Already retired, but still exercising great decision-making power thanks to his long years of contributions to the magazine. Your old man was seen almost as a royal advisor or a wise monk where directors, managers and editors from various sectors of the magazine went to ask for advice and help. You were relatively shielded from leaks.
You noticed her approaching. Well disguised, with glasses, hair tied back and comfortable clothes. She looked like just another ordinary girl. You couldn't help but notice the NY Knicks sweatshirt you had given her as a gift, it was both of your favorite team.
She greeted you with a discreet hug. You still hadn't gotten used to the fact that you couldn't give a peck in public que in South Korea. In your perception, it was the most normal thing in the world.
"Hi, baby! How are you?" she asked you as she sat down at the table.
"Better now, honey. What about you?"
"The same!"
"Was the day as hard as always?" you asked.
"Yeah, definitely!" she replied. Yunjin seemed eager for this question. She continued: âIn the morning I had rap class. By the way, I think I'm getting better. Oh, and in the afternoon I recorded my lines, like, over and over again. The music producer has a very specific vision of what he wants for this track. He apologized and admitted that it might take some time to achieve the desired result.â
"Well, I trust your talent. Remember that you and your group are dealing with a delicate concept. I have seen up close the production of albums that address intimate themes, it is always a challenge, but also a true work and certainly a amazing gift for the fans. You girls are going to do great."
Yunjin laughed, a little shyly.
"It feels like I'm talking to a music critic instead of my boyfriend."
"Well, you're actually talking to a music critic. Oh, by the way, I remembered that I won't be writing the article about Le Sserafim's new album like I said before."
Her expression was one of surprise. Yunjin asked:
"Is it because of me?â
"Yes." you answered honestly. âWell, look, love, I'm prioritizing our relationship and thinking about the future. If this is for real, eventually the press will hear about us together, and a review from me about my girlfriend's music group obviously it would make my opinion seem partial and biased. It's just to avoid future problems."
"Okay" She looked upset. "But I'll still want to know your opinion when you hear the album."
"I'm really looking forward to hearing it." You smiled, making her feel better. "I left the review about the new album for a good friend of mine to write. I really respect her opinion."
"Well, i think we're in good hands. But let's stop talking about work for a bit!"
The waiter seemed to have heard Yunjin's speech as he appeared to save them right after she finished saying that. Yunjin had great taste in food, that's why she always chose the order for the two of you, you weren't the "culinary trailblazer" type; a few months in South Korea and you only knew five typical dishes (always returning to the arms of the big fast-food chains).
"Oh, I almost forgot to give you this!" You handed her a gift. "It had been on my lap for so long that I had forgotten I had brought it with me."
"Oh, baby! You didn't have to do that!"
She started to unwrap it.
"Hope you like."
You waited for her reaction. Yunjin smiled and made a cute little noise when she saw that it was a book (although she already knew from the shape of the gift wrap).
"You know I love reading! Thank you so much."
"It's The Alchemist. I know you love fantasy and this silly self-help thing. This book is a mix of both."
You saw her eyes light up.
"You're perfect. I love how well you know me. And self-help isn't silly, it's very good for evolving as a human being." she scolded you.
You shrugged.
"It's not the kind of thing I'd like to put on my bookshelf. But to each their own.â
She laughed.
"I'm still going to make you read one of these."
"Well, I've already read The Alchemist. If for me it's average, for you it will be a masterpiece."
â
It was around 10pm when the two of you finally arrived at your apartment. Dinner was very good, especially dessert (that bingsu thing was really delicious), and by that night there was no more energy for more fun, it was preferable to have a good night's sleep so that the next day you could do something together. Even so, Yunjin hummed excitedly in the car on the way home. You appreciated all that joy.
You took off your shoes while Yunjin took off her NY Knicks sweatshirt, leaving only a tight tank top on her body. You noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra by the way her breasts showed through the fabric of her tank top. You slowly approached her and grabbed her from behind, kissing her repeatedly. Yunjin wrapped her hands around your neck as she giggled at the series of kisses.
âWill you be my teddy bear tonight?â she asked sweetly. âI need your affection so much, baby.â
âWhatever you need, sweetie.â You said as you kissed her on the neck.
Things were heating up. Your hands slid down Yunjin's soft belly, heavy sighs escaped her mouth unconsciously.
âLook, we still need to shower.â she said.
"No problem." you answered.
âYou're putting me in the mood. I'm warning you that if you keep touching me like this, you're going to have to go all the way to finish what you started.â
âAnd since when has this been a problem for me?â you asked as you led her to the couch.
You took off your shirt and belt from your pants. Yunjin took off her jeans, leaving only her tank top and adorable pink panties. Your hand slid down Yunjin's left thigh while you kissed her right thigh. That was more than enough to give her goosebumps. She had her legs wide open, waiting, almost begging, for you to touch that place. Instead of doing it right away, you decided to play with her a little, kissing and biting her inner thigh while using one of your hands to lightly massage her pussy through her panties. Your lips slid to Yunjin's crotch, where you licked the entire area, she reveled in the act, trying hard not to close her legs with the spasms she was having. It didn't take long for a wet stain to darken the pink of the panties. When you finally removed Yunjin's panties, you saw how wet she was. So horny that she couldn't wait for you, fingering her pussy slowly, opening it with her fingers so you could see how drooling she was; a successful action of provoking you. Then you realized how hard your cock was, pulsing in your pants, painfully tight, which made you hornier.
Without wasting any more time, you dived between Yunjin's legs, eager to taste her (that flavor that was becoming increasingly familiar and addictive⊠Part of your life. Yeah, we could put it that way), your tongue delighting in the taste and the cozy warmth of the inside of her pussy, while Yunjin moaned softly, digging her nails into the sofa cushions.
âI love it when you suck me like that, baby. You make me feel so good!â she moaned.
At one point she asked to stop because her lust was unbearable and that way he would have an orgasm in a short time.
âI want to feel your cock inside me now.â she said. You had just taken off your underwear when she added, âWait, what if we fuck in the bathroom. Letâs save time, what do you think?â
Your response was to lift her off the couch and take her to the bathroom. You turned on the light with your elbow and, before you could think of anything, she said:
âFuck me like this! Your cock goes deep into my pussy when you fuck me in the air.â
You kissed her intensely while you tried to fit your dick into her pussy. The feeling of your cock sliding inside Yunjin was wonderful. Upon realizing that your cock was well placed inside her, you grabbed Yunjin's thighs tightly and began to thrust into her energetically while she held onto you, moaning compulsively.
And Yunjin was right, your dick went deep in that position. You could feel her deep inside, the entire length of your cock was being used, and she loved it. When she announced her orgasm, you wanted to make sure it was intense and pleasurable, the way it made her roll her eyes, so you lifted her a little higher, grabbing her ass, while Yunjin wrapped her legs inside your arms, making her practically hang from you and her pussy is completely inside your dick.
âOh God, Baby! Iâm cumming!â
She trembled holding onto you, while you practically rubbed her pussy on your dick, always rotating it close to your body. It was just a shame that you couldn't enjoy her eyes rolling back at the moment of orgasm, you simply loved seeing her go crazy with pleasure, but there was also a certain contentment in just knowing that it happened.
You sat Yunjin down on the sink and there you started fucking her again, looking deeply into her eyes. At one point she looked at you with so much passion, so much desire that there was a sudden growing desire to fill her pussy with your load of cum.
âHang me, love.â she asked affectionately.
Her hand wrapped around just over half of her neck, serving as support to fuck her even harder. Sweat running down both bodies, your gaze was lost between the mirror's reflection, her eyes, her tits and her expressions of pleasure. With the sensations highlighted, you realized how much you loved Yunjin and how much this feeling contributed to eminent pleasure during sex.
Holy shit! You were almost there.
You thought about how much you wanted to go deep into this, literally to the end, but you were without a condom and suddenly stopping the act to go get a condom at the end of the championship was a bit... discouraging.
But you have an idea.
âStand up, sweetieâ you said. âLetâs try something new.â
Yunjin got out of the sink, looking at you excitedly.
âGet in the shower stall with me.â you asked, opening the door.
"What do you want to do?"
âItâs nothing out of this world, but it occurred to me that youâve never given me a tightjob, I think itâs time we tried it.â
She had some assumptions about what this position was, but you helped her anyway. Yunjin was a rather tall girl, so there were no problems for your dick to fit between her thighs, the result was perfect, nothing uncomfortable. You thought about turning on the shower to lube up a little, but her pussy was so wet and the continuous sweat running down between her thighs was already more than great. You grabbed Yunjin's waist tightly and she crossed her legs a little, squeezing your dick.
You began to thrust into her, your cock sliding back and forth as you dragged Yunjin's labia. So you discovered in the best way that this was very pleasurable for both of you. The internal heat started inside you again and gradually you lost yourself in that exciting sensation. As you approached the final explosion, you bestially grabbed Yunjin in every way possible, sliding your sweat-damp hands down her belly, squeezing her breasts and slapping her ass. You lost yourself in the voluptuousness that was Yunjin's body and- Fuck! She loved it. She loved being your instrument of pleasure, knowing that the person she loved so much reached maddening peaks of passion, desire and lust for her. A juice of feelings for an insatiable thirst.
âOh baby! Iâm gonna cum! Iâm gonna-â
Without any warning, Yunjin began to move her hips in a rhythm that immediately took you to the precipice of pleasure. The soft, hot, wet, suffocating skin of her thighs dancing over your cock. This was too much for you. When you came, you hugged Yunjin tightly, holding her as if your life depended on it, giving in to inconstant and uncontrollable moans close to her ear. The frantic thrusts lost their rhythm, going deeper and slower through Yunjin's thighs. She held your arms affectionately, waiting for your breathing to become less labored before kissing you.
"I love you." You said to her.
The phrase was so loaded with something that covered your feelings at that moment, and you wished she was the woman of your life and would never leave your side.
"I love you too!" said Yunjin when she found a way out of your tongue. âBaby, you donât know how much.â
âThis took longer than expected. Letâs take our shower.â
âYep! Let's go."
You turned on the shower. The hot running water was invigorating, even more so being next to Yunjin, you didn't know that sharing certain intimacies was so special until you finally did it with her. you soaped Yunjin's entire body, she helped you wash your back and you shampooed her hair, gently massaging her scalp; it was cute how it relaxed her, she seemed so surrendered to you in that moment, and just a few months ago you were sitting across from her and the other Le Sserafim girls, asking incisive questions about the creative process of their latest album. That's where it all started, after all. And who could say where it would end?
âHey, baby, let me shampoo your hair now.â Yunjin said with a cutie smile.
Nobody, you thought. Nobody could say.
A/n: sorry for any grammatical errors đ
#male reader smut#smut male reader#male reader#gg smut#kpop gg#smut#kpop smut#yunjin#yunjin smut#yunjin fluff#fluff smut#smut and fluff#oneshot#one shot#smut oneshot#lee sserafim smut#x male smut#x male y/n#x male reader#smut fic
726 notes
·
View notes
Text
back in chicago - part 1
pairing: ex-boyfriend! carmy berzatto x reader
summary: after years in germany, you return to chicago and immediately run into your ex-boyfriend. if you thought itâd be easy jumping back into your old life, you were wrong. new people had entered carmyâs life, including a new woman, but you were still everything to him.
word count: 1.8k
part 2 / part 3 / part 4
You threw the final box into the trash pile and admired your finished room. You had just moved back to Chicago and as of five minutes ago, you were officially moved in. Your best friend, Maria, let you live with her since her roommate had just moved out.
âLast box done?â She called, from the living room. You walked down the hallway and into the living room. âI am officially unpacked,â you cheered as she applauded you.
You plopped down next to her on the couch. âYou ready to celebrate your first night back in Chicago?â She asked you, raising her eyebrows.
After living in Germany for five years and teaching at a university there, you were ready to be home. You had gotten fired from your professor job and then dumped by your boyfriend, who was a German guy that you worked with at the university.
âHow are we celebrating?â You asked, very intrigued. She used her hands to do a drumroll on the couch. âWe are having a girls night out at a fancy restaurant and then wherever the evening takes us.â She told you.
âOooo a fancy restaurant? How luxurious,â already mentally picking out an outfit, âwhat is it called?â You asked.
She pulled out a flier from behind her back and handed it to you. You ran your fingers over the glossy cover. The food in the photos looked delicious. There was a large bear logo in the middle of the flier.
You opened the flier and the giant words across the top read: âHead Chef Carmen Berzatto PresentsâŠâ
You felt your heart skip a beat. âMaria? What the fuck is this?â You asked, seeing your ex-boyfriendâs picture staring at you.
âYour old flame just opened a restaurant a few weeks ago, and I got us on the list.â She told you, excitedly. She expected you to be a lot more excited than you were. The emotions she was seeing on your face were more aligned with dread.
âWe cannot go there, Maria. No way,â you protested.
âBut come on, itâs Carmy,â she argued. Those words shouldnât have been enough to convince you, but they did. Carmy was your one that got away, right guy wrong time, soulmate, whatever you wanted to call him.
You and Carmy hadnât even been in the same room since you left for Germany and he broke things off, fearing how hard long distance would be.
âWhat the fuck do I wear?â You mumbled, half talking to yourself. Maria jumped up from the couch and pulled you towards your closet. âI will find you the perfect outfit.â She promised.
You sat on your bed as she sorted through your closet. âOh, girl,â she said, freezing as she looked at a dress.
âWhat is it?â You asked, curiously. She spun around with the dress in her hand. âIt has to be this one. Itâs beautiful.â She said, in awe. You smiled to yourself as you looked at the dress. You did love the dress, and it looked fantastic on you.
It was a long maroon dress with a slit up the side. It had puff sleeves and a sweetheart neckline that fit in all the best ways.
You both spent the next few hours getting ready and singing along to your favorite songs in the process. You both knew you had to look perfect to see Carmy for the first time in five years. Maria helped you make sure your makeup was perfect, and then it was time to go.
As you walked up to the restaurant, you felt all the butterflies in your stomach. Maria took her phone out, and you both took some pictures in front of the building.
âYou ready?â She asked you, fully aware of how brave you needed to be to go in there. You gave her a quick nod before you could change your mind. You both walked up to the host station, and you were face to face with Richie.
âRichie?â You asked, in shock as you noticed his suit. That was the complete opposite of the Richie you grew up with.
âYou guys made it? Welcome welcome,â he said, walking over to give you both hugs. You realized that youâd probably be seeing more familiar faces than just Richie and Carmy.
âRight this way, ladies,â Richie said, guiding you both to your table. You noticed the back wall had windows into the kitchen. You quickly scanned for Carmy, but didnât see him.
After Richie left the table, Maria noticed how nervous you looked. âJust take a deep breath. Nothing is going to happen. Itâs just dinner and talking to some old friends afterwards. And itâs Carmy weâre talking about.â She reassured you. You knew she was right, but you couldnât help the stress that maybe Carmy didnât want to see you or was mad at you for leaving.
Richie was giddy as he headed back to the kitchen. He had been waiting all week for tonight. Maria had texted him ahead of time that you both were coming to dinner. Carmy had no idea, and Richie had been waiting to see his reaction.
âWhatâs wrong with you?â Sydney asked, seeing the giant smile on Richieâs face that wasnât exactly on brand for him.
He grabbed Sydneyâs hand and pulled her to the side of the kitchen. âYou see that girl in the corner booth with the red dress?â He asked her. Sydney scanned the crowd for a second before finding you. She quickly nodded her head. âThatâs Carmyâs ex-girlfriend.â Richie said, watching Sydneyâs eyes go wide.
âIs she crazy or something?â Sydney asked, causing Richie to quickly shake his head. âNo, not that kind of ex-girlfriend. Sheâs perfect. Her and Carmy were madly in love and shit. She got a job offer in Germany, and Carmy couldnât handle the long distance. Her friend Maria told me they were coming, and Carmy has no idea.â Richie said, failing miserably at hiding his excitement.
âYouâre so evil for this,â Sydney said, laughing. She quickly grabbed a bottle of wine and brought it out to your table. She knew Richie was meddling, but itâd be a shame if she didnât use her front row seat to watch the chaos.
âWhy are we so stuck on me and Carmy? What about you and Richie? You think I forgot about that? Him and Tiff have been divorced for a while, sheâs marrying some new guy. Why havenât you shot your shot?â You asked Maria, flipping the situation.
Back when you and Carmy were dating, you both had set Richie and Maria up on a double date. Neither of them were looking for something serious, but they were friends with benefits for a while, until Richie met Tiffany. Youâd always suspected that they cared more about each other than they let on. âThat is not why weâre here.â She corrected you.
Sydney walked up to your table, getting both of you to shut up immediately. âHi, Iâm Chef Sydney. Richie told me you both were family friends, so I wanted to bring out some wine for you on the house.â She said, pouring some wine into your glasses. You both introduced yourselves to her and chatted for a minute or two before she left.
âIâm going to the bathroom really quick. Iâll be right back.â You told Maria. You walked across the restaurant and went to the bathroom. On your way back to the table, you saw Carmy through the window as he called out orders around the kitchen.
You felt yourself freeze where you were. It felt like time was moving in slow motion. You memorized every single detail of how he looked. He looked the same as the last time you saw him, but also completely different. He lightly pulled on his curls, and you recognized his nervous habit. It reminded you of when Carmy asked you to be his girlfriend.
You rushed back to your table, paranoid that he would see you staring.
âYou saw him, didnât you?â Maria asked, recognizing the blush on your cheeks.
After you both had finished eating, Richie encouraged you to wait for the one last table to leave and then you could talk to everybody.
Despite trying to bail four times, Maria had made sure that you stayed. All while your pleas for Maria to talk to Richie were met with protest.
You watched the last guests leave the restaurant, and Richie walked over to your table. âWould you ladies like to follow me?â He asked, holding out his arm for Maria. You smirked at her as you noticed how flustered she got.
Richie opened the door to the kitchen and led you both inside. You didnât see Carmy anywhere, but noticed Sydney, who looked just as excited as Richie.
Natalie rounded the corner, and you saw her eyes light up when she saw you. She ran over and pulled you into a hug. You both always assumed youâd end up as sister-in-laws and loved each other like best friends.
âRichie told me you were back in town. Itâs so good to see you.â She said, smiling. Nat was one of the few people from Chicago who had gone to visit you in Germany.
âYo, cousin. I have some people who want to talk to you.â Richie called out.
âWho is it?â You heard Carmy respond, and then he appeared in the doorway to what looked like an office.
âHoly shit,â he mumbled under his breath. He was stunned and almost paralyzed. The whole team watched as he ogled you. You were the last person he thought heâd see. He was almost convinced heâd never see you again.
âBut you wereâŠGermany and t-the universityâŠand, youâre here?â He rambled, trying to process what was happening. His eyes raked some your body, admiring you. His gaze went back up and met yours. He never thought heâd look into your eyes again.
âSheâs back in Chicago, baby,â Richie cheered, causing the whole team to laugh.
You walked towards him and held out your arms for a hug. He quickly pulled you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around your waist just like they had a million times before. You wrapped your arms around his neck.
You both pulled away, and you could still see the shock in Carmyâs eyes. âAre you good? I-I mean, how are you?â He mumbled over his words, nervously.
âIâm really good. How are you? The restaurant is amazing.â You complimented him. Carmyâs two lives were crashing together. He had two sections of his life. He had his life before you and his life after you, and now they were blending together.
âThank you. That means a lot. You always knew I could do it.â He said, smiling as a slideshow of your relationship played through his head.
âSo, we going clubbing tonight to celebrate?â Richie asked, being met with cheers from everyone. As you turned your focus away from Richie and looked back at Carmy, you caught him checking you out again. You knew it was going to be a long night, but there was still lots you didnât know.
Like the fact that Carmy wasnât single anymore.
taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs @navs-bhat @mattsfavbigtitties @the-sylver-dragon
Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!
#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto fic#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy x reader#carmy the bear#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto fic#the bear#the bear fanfiction
586 notes
·
View notes