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gf2bellamy · 5 days ago

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drunk — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: spencer is drunk and is spilling things about your relationship content warnings: established relationship, drunk spencer, the team mocking them a/n: i've never had a sip of alcohol so if i made any mistake i'm very sorry honestly i just went of what i've seen in tv shows, movies and books

The neon glow of the bar cast a warm haze over the room as you sat nestled in the corner booth, sipping your soda.

The ice clinked softly against the glass as you absentmindedly swirled the straw, half-listening to Garcia and Emily’s gossip.

Their conversation faded into the background, however, as your attention drifted elsewhere—specifically, to the two men across the room.

Spencer Reid, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, was talking at a rapid pace, gesturing wildly with his hands as Derek Morgan grinned at him, clearly entertained. Your brows furrowed as Derek slid another drink into Spencer’s hands.

You sighed, not bothering to hide your disapproval.

“What’s up with you?” Emily asked, her head tilting slightly as she sipped from her drink.

“That.” You nodded toward the scene unfolding across the room.

Emily followed your gaze just in time to see Spencer take another eager gulp of whatever Derek had handed him. A second later, Derek’s mouth dropped open before he burst into laughter, clapping Spencer on the back like a proud older brother.

“Yeah… Morgan’s having way too much fun with drunk Spencer,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes at them.

Spencer, completely unaware of your scrutiny, continued rambling, his hands moving faster than his words. Meanwhile, Derek's smile just grew bigger and bigger.

Garcia snorted. “Oh, come on, it’s adorable.”

You weren’t sure if you’d call it adorable. More like mildly concerning. Because if history had taught you anything, drunk Spencer Reid was unpredictable—and God help anyone who had to deal with him when the alcohol finally hit its peak.

And from the looks of it, the moment was about to happen or based on Derek's grin , has happened already.

“What is he doing?” you mumbled, eyes narrowing as you watched the two of them. You had a bad feeling about this.

Garcia glanced at you with a smirk. “Sweetheart, we are at a bar. That’s what people do. You know… drink?” She gestured pointedly at your own glass.

You scoffed, lifting your soda in mock acknowledgment. “Yeah, well, some of us have to drive,” you muttered before taking another sip.

Before Garcia could quip back, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. Derek had turned toward you, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face.

Oh no.

Your stomach dropped. “Oh god,” you muttered.

Oblivious to what was happening around him, Spencer continued rambling, hands flailing dramatically.

You watched, unamused, as Derek made his way over to you, his smirk growing wider with every step.

Trailing beside him, Spencer was entirely oblivious. He barely paid attention to where he was walking, nearly stumbling into Derek at one point, but that didn’t stop him.

When they finally reached your booth, Derek didn’t even bother with pleasantries. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on you, his grin downright devious.

“You don’t say?” he mused, clearly continuing whatever conversation Spencer had been having—though it was obvious his real focus was on you.

Spencer finally seemed to register where he was, his hazy eyes flickering to you. He blinked, as if surprised to see you there.

“Hi,” he said, his voice slightly softer than before.

Before you could respond, he slid into the booth beside you—well, more like half on top of you. He scooted in so close that his thigh was practically draped over yours.

You stared at him. “Hi.”

He grinned, leaning in ever so slightly, the scent of alcohol and something distinctly Spencer clinging to him. His eyes, glassy but bright, studied your face with open admiration, like he was seeing you for the first time all over again.

His curls were a mess, strands falling over his face, making him look even more disheveled than usual. You reached up instinctively, tucking a stray lock behind his ear, but he barely seemed to notice.

“Seems like you’re having fun,” you murmured, shifting your gaze to Derek, who was watching the interaction with barely contained amusement.

Derek simply shrugged. “Guess so.”

You turned back to Spencer, who was still staring at you—completely dazed, his hazel eyes glassy and unfocused, like you were the most fascinating thing in the room.

With a chuckle, Derek turned his attention to Garcia and Emily, leaving you to deal with your very drunk boyfriend.

“You okay?” you asked softly, tilting your head as you brushed more of his hair out of his face.

Spencer hummed in response, his eyes fluttering shut for a second before he blinked them open again. “Mhm.”

You let your fingers linger in his curls, absentmindedly threading through them, and Spencer melted under your touch.

“What were you telling Derek back there?” you asked, keeping your voice gentle, watching as his eyelids drooped slightly.

He mumbled something incoherent before finally managing, “M’don’t remember.”

Before you could press further, he sighed contently and let his head drop onto your shoulder, his body going slack against yours.

Your hand was still tangled in his hair and you felt his breath fan against your neck as he let out another sleepy hum.

Now Garcia and Emily were both staring at you, matching grins on their faces. You frowned.

“What?” you asked warily.

Emily’s smile widened. “Oh, nothing. It’s just… Spencer had a lot to say about you.”

On cue, Spencer lifted his head from your shoulder at the sound of his name, his movements slow and a little clumsy. You turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

His brows furrowed in concentration, as if trying to grasp onto a fleeting thought. “I remember now,” he said, dragging out the words, squeezing his eyes shut like that might help jog his memory. “I think.”

You waited, not sure if you wanted to hear whatever was about to come out of his mouth.

“I told them… about how much you like touching my hair,” he finally said, his voice a little too loud, like he was completely unaware of the fact that everyone was now hanging onto his every word.

Your mouth fell open. “What?”

You whipped your head toward Emily, Garcia, and Derek—who were all watching you with knowing smirks, looking way too amused for your liking.

“Oh, and I told them about how you—” he paused, blinking a few times, “—always trace patterns on my back when you think I’m asleep.”

Your face burned.

Spencer, oblivious to your horror, continued, his voice dreamy and soft. “And how you always steal my cardigans, even though you claim they drown you and make you look ridiculous. But I know you secretly love wearing them.”

Derek let out a full laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, this is gold.”

Garcia sighed dramatically, clutching her chest. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Spencer, why—”

He leaned in even closer, his lips nearly brushing your ear as he whispered—though it wasn’t much of a whisper at all, given his current state—“And I told them that you—”

You slapped a hand over his mouth before he could say anything else.

Spencer blinked at you, wide-eyed, and you felt his lips curl into a grin against your palm.

“Okay, Spence, I need you to stop talking now,” you said firmly, your hand still covering his mouth.

Spencer blinked at you, his hazel eyes glassy with amusement. Slowly , hesitantly , you removed your hand, watching him like he was a ticking time bomb.

Then you turned to your friends.

“Don’t,” you warned, narrowing your eyes as Derek parted his lips, no doubt ready to deliver some smart remark.

Derek smirked. “But—”

“Don’t say anything,” you groaned, already exhausted, cutting him off with a pointed look.

Emily took a slow, deliberate sip of her drink, her expression entirely unreadable as she observed the chaos unfolding in front of her.

Penelope, however, was a different story.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed, placing a hand over her heart as she looked between you and Spencer like you were her new favorite romance novel come to life. “This is adorable. I mean, we knew you were soft for our resident genius, but this?” She gestured at Spencer, who was still pressed against you, his head once again finding its way to your shoulder. “This is next-level domesticity.”

You sighed, “I am never letting him drink around you guys again.”

Spencer hummed sleepily against your shoulder. “M’not even that drunk.”

Derek let out a loud laugh. “Oh, you so are.”

Spencer attempted to lift his head in protest but gave up halfway and settled deeper into your side. “M’just happy,” he mumbled, and if your heart didn’t squeeze at that, you’d be lying.

Emily set down her drink, eyes glinting with mischief. “So, what else does our drunk genius have to say about you?”

You shot her a glare. “Emily.”

Spencer, on the other hand, perked up slightly, as if the question had unlocked another memory.

“Oh!” he said suddenly, lifting his head, a dreamy smile spreading across his face. “I also told Derek about how you always fall asleep on my chest when we watch movies, even though you swear you never fall asleep during movies.”

Derek actually clapped at that one. “Man, you are so whipped.”

You buried your face in your hands as Garcia gasped dramatically, reaching for Emily’s arm like she might faint. “They’re so disgustingly cute! .”

Spencer, now clearly on a roll, turned his dopey, love-struck gaze back to you. “And I told them—”

You groaned. “Spencer!”

He grinned, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Love you,” he mumbled sleepily.

You patted Spencer’s thigh three times—a silent I love you, too, acting as if you weren't melting completely on the inside. You weren’t about to give your friends any more teasing material.

“We’re going home,” you announced, realizing how sleepy Spencer was getting.

Derek groaned dramatically. “Oh, come on. We wanna hear more.” His grin was absolutely wicked.

At that, Spencer lifted his head slightly, as if he was about to continue his drunken confessions.

You shot him a look—a playful but very clear don’t even think about it kind of look. “Spence.”

His lips parted like he was going to argue, but instead, he let out a soft hum and dropped his head back onto your shoulder, completely surrendering.

Derek laughed. "Man, he's totally wrapped around your finger."

You ignored him, instead rubbing soothing circles into Spencer’s back. His eyes fluttered closed, and he was half-asleep, his weight pressing into you completely.

“One word about this at work,” you warned, shifting your gaze between the three of them, “and I’m never talking to you guys again.”

Emily smirked over the rim of her glass. “Oh, sure. No words at work. Can’t promise about the PowerPoint presentation Garcia is definitely going to make, though.”

Garcia gasped, scandalized. “Emily, you know me so well.”

You groaned. “I hate all of you.” Derek chuckled, waving you off. “Nah, you love us.”

Spencer hummed sleepily. “Mhm. Love them.”

You sighed, adjusting him slightly. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you home, Dr. Love-Confessions.”

“Okay, come on,” you sighed, scooting Spencer out of the booth. He stood—well, wobbled—barely managing to keep himself upright.

You steadied him with a hand on his arm as he instinctively laced his fingers through yours, clearly unwilling to let go. His drunken state had made him extra clingy, but you weren’t exactly complaining.

Turning back to your friends, you gave them a pointed look. “I’ll see you all at work,” you said, voice laced with warning. “Where we’re only going to have professional conversations. Got it?”

Emily smirked, raising her glass in mock agreement. “Oh, sure. Definitely professional.”

Garcia let out a dramatic sigh. “No gossip whatsoever,” she said, not even trying to sound convincing.

Derek just grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Meanwhile, Spencer was barely paying attention to any of this. His eyes had glazed over, staring blankly into the distance as if lost in thought—or maybe just lost in general.

You exhaled, already exhausted and thinking of calling in sick.

“You,” you said, pointing a finger at Derek, “you get to pay for both our drinks.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up, realization dawning on him. “Whoa, hold up—”

“Nope,” you cut him off immediately, shaking your head. “Not happening. You let him get like this, you pay for it.”

Derek let out a laugh, looking at Spencer, who was still in his own little world. “Man, I didn’t force him to drink.”

You shrugged. “Don’t care. Enjoy the bill.” You tugged Spencer’s hand, leading him toward the exit.

“Bye,” he mumbled sleepily, barely loud enough to be heard. His steps were slow, and his body felt heavier against yours.

You pushed open the door with your free hand, the cool night air rushing past you. Spencer let out a quiet sigh at the change in temperature, his grip on your hand tightening just a little.

Without thinking, you started tracing slow, comforting circles with your thumb over his skin.

Spencer hummed softly, leaning into you as you walked toward the car. “Feels nice,” he mumbled.

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he nodded lazily, his curls falling into his face again. “You always do that.”

“I guess I do,” you smiled softly at your boyfriend, your heart warm as he squeezed your hand tighter.

Spencer didn’t seem to notice how tightly he was holding onto you as you arrived next to your car. But when you tried to pull your hand out of his grasp, he made a small noise of protest, a soft whimper that almost made you stop in your tracks.

“Spence,” you said gently, “I need to look for my keys.”

His hand reluctantly loosened, but his gaze never left you. You opened your bag, rummaging through the contents, your eyes scanning for the keys.

“You usually keep them in your front pocket,” Spencer mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

You froze, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, right.”

Without missing a beat, you reached into your front pocket, feeling the familiar jingle of your keys. “Thanks, Spence,” you murmured, more to yourself than him, as you unlocked the car.

You quickly moved to open the passenger door, holding it wide. “Okay, come on. Sit down.”

Spencer gave you a sleepy, lazy look but you gently tugged him towards the car, your touch soft yet insistent. His steps were slow, and as he started to get into the car, you reached up to guide his head down so he wouldn’t hit it on the top of the doorframe.

“Head down,” you instructed, your voice a little more authoritative than usual, though the affection in your tone made it clear you were only looking out for him.

Spencer let out a soft, obedient hum as he finally slumped into the passenger seat. His body collapsed back into the seat like a ragdoll, eyes heavy.

“Good,” you said, closing the door behind him, watching as he settled into the seat, already half-asleep.

As you slid into the driver's seat and closed the door behind you, you glanced over at Spencer. His head was resting against the seat, eyes shut, his expression soft and peaceful. You couldn’t help but feel a little bad for disturbing his rest.

“Do you want to go to your apartment?” you asked quietly, glancing at him as you started the car.

Spencer’s voice was barely above a whisper when he replied, “I wanna stay with you.”

You paused, looking at him—his face relaxed, eyes still closed as if he were half in a dream. Your fingers itched to reach out, and you gently brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. He hummed contentedly at the contact, leaning into your touch without even realizing it.

You smiled softly, your heart melting at how utterly endearing he was. “Okay. We’ll go to my apartment, then.”

You drove in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the soft hum of the engine and Spencer’s breathing. It wasn’t long before you arrived, and as you parked in your spot, you glanced over at him.

He hadn’t moved, still in the same sleepy position, his head leaning against the seat.

“Spence,” you said gently, turning off the car. “We’re here.”

All he did was hum in response, barely acknowledging you.

You sighed softly, knowing this was going to take a little effort. Stepping out of the car, you closed your door quietly before making your way to the passenger side.

When you opened the door, Spencer was practically asleep, his head resting against the seat, lips slightly parted. He looked so peaceful, you almost felt bad for waking him.

“Spence,” you muttered, reaching out to touch his shoulder lightly. He didn’t budge.

You frowned, leaning in slightly—careful not to hit your head on the car frame—as you gave his shoulder a firmer shake. Still nothing.

“Spencer,” you said a little louder, this time with a touch of amusement in your voice.

Finally, he stirred, cracking one eye open lazily.

“Hi,” you greeted with a soft smile, watching as he blinked sluggishly.

He let out a slow breath, rubbing his face with one hand. “We’re here?” he mumbled, voice thick with exhaustion.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Spencer groaned lightly, shifting in his seat as if even the thought of moving was too much effort.

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’ll help you, but you have to stand up, Spence.”

With a deep sigh, he finally nodded and let you pull him to his feet. He swayed slightly, and you immediately steadied him, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Whoa there, genius,” you murmured, adjusting your grip. “Let’s not face-plant in the parking lot.”

Spencer huffed out a sleepy chuckle, leaning into you more than he probably realized. “You’re warm,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile never faded. “Yeah, well, let’s get you inside where it’s actually warm, okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper as you guided him inside the building. He leaned into you slightly, his steps slow and heavy.

As you waited in front of the elevator, the only sound was the distant hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional ding from the floors above. You tapped your foot lightly against the tile, watching the numbers slowly descend.

Then, out of nowhere, Spencer spoke again, his voice soft but certain.

“I like you a lot, you know that?”

You turned to look at him, surprised by the sudden confession, but the sincerity in his hazel eyes made your heart melt. His gaze was a little unfocused, heavy with sleep and alcohol, but the emotion behind his words was crystal clear.

“I know, Spence,” you said, smiling warmly as you reached up and brushed his curls away from his face again. It was something so simple, yet something you always found yourself doing.

He leaned into your touch instinctively, his body seeking out your warmth.

The elevator doors finally slid open with a ding, and you gently tugged his hand to lead him inside. As soon as the doors shut, Spencer sighed and rested his head on your shoulder, his body completely relaxed against yours.

“You smell nice,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your jacket.

You let out a soft laugh, wrapping an arm around him for support. “Thanks, Spence. You smell like alcohol and bad decisions.”

He chuckled sleepily, barely lifting his head. “Bad decisions? No, no. Liking you is the best decision.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you just stared at him, warmth spreading through your chest. Even drunk and barely coherent, Spencer Reid somehow managed to be the sweetest person alive.

The elevator doors opened, and you shook your head fondly, guiding him toward your apartment. “Come on, Casanova. Let’s get you to bed before you pass out in the hallway.”

Spencer let out a hum of agreement, still clinging onto your hand like he never wanted to let go.

You let go of him just long enough to unlock the door, pushing it open before guiding him inside. As soon as you shut it behind you, Spencer immediately reached for you again, clinging onto you like he had no intention of letting go.

You sighed fondly, helping him shrug off his jacket while he clumsily toed off his shoes.

“Okay, Spencer, just a couple more steps,” you encouraged, wrapping an arm around his waist as you led him toward your bedroom.

When you reached the bed, he sat down heavily, sighing as his body sunk into the mattress. His eyes scanned the room, though they were hazy with sleep. “I like your room,” he mumbled, as if just realizing where he was.

You smiled softly, watching as he flopped back against the pillows, his head sinking into the plush fabric.

“Me too,” you murmured, standing by the edge of the bed as you watched him.

Spencer’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, but then, with a small, sleepy smile, he peeked up at you again.

“You know… I think my favorite thing about your room is that you live in it,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion but filled with sincerity.

Your heart swelled at the unexpected sweetness of his words.

You shook your head with a soft laugh, brushing his curls out of his face once more. “You’re such a sap when you’re drunk, Spence.”

His smile grew just a little. “M’not drunk,” he mumbled, already halfway to sleep. “Just in love.”

You felt warmth spread through your chest as you pulled the blanket over him, watching as he relaxed further into the bed.

“Go to sleep, Spencer,” you whispered, but the smile on your lips never faded.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst

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biromanticwritergal · 2 years ago

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Why is it so hard to date women??? I am one too. This shouldn't be so hard. And yet it really is.

I can get a man without even wanting to or meaning to (it happened unintentionally every time that way when I still dated men now I realized looking back on it). I could do that again but I never really enjoyed it before so I doubt I would like it any better now.

You're supposed to actually enjoy dating, right?

It's not supposed to be like pulling teeth, RIGHT??? :')

(I am trying to stay positive but WOW, this sucks OMG!)

#It's obvious that I have no fucking clue what I'm doing still #I think I am looking in the literal WORST places #the new app I tried for friends/dating isn't specifically gay but it has way too many men on it literally it's mostly men somehow #I'm sorry boys but I'm not interested #But I feel like I can't talk to girls on there because I don't want them to think I'm some creep :/ :/ :/#my profile says bisexual currently but I'm not sure that's accurate #I IDed as bi for half my life but I'm still not sure if that's true #I'm thinking of quitting that app too #I got cat fished on the last gay app I tried and it happened multiple times which was frustrating!!! :/#maybe this is all BAD Karma coming back to bite me #maybe I should reactivate my account on her any way and get catfished some more *shrug* maybe it's what I deserve #tbh I'm jealous of how easily other people seem to find each other I'll admit that #I've been watching too much of the Catfish TV show lately too which does not help either :(#I'm pissed at myself for wasting college now- I was even part of the LGBT student club at both my schools ughh #and though I liked some of the other girls in the clubs I never did anything because most of them were taken already (of course)#I have this weird feeling that I missed the train for someone on here but maybe I'm imagining it??? 0-o #I couldn't be sure and do not want to be annoying about it in case I misread some signals a while ago...?#it's okay I'm not hot and still don't know if I'm gay or bi at my age (I'm really 30 but probably don't seem it)#you can do way better than me girl is what I'm saying basically #dating apps are just...terrible? awful? the worst?#a free unhinged(?) rant for all my single friends :)#if you know you definitely know #though I hope you don't because... yikes I'm sorry if you know #any body got any other app ideas??? I tried lex taimi and her already and I won't do tindr because that's too superficial/all about hook up #wlw dating #I've known I've liked women since I was 16 but never tried dating them until now so sorry if this is obvious or you've heard it before

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lenalvthor · 4 months ago

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hey i have a fucking bone to pick with sapphic fandoms

like, i get it okay. i've been on tumblr since 2011, i was in the trenches during the bury your gays nightmare, i grew up on buffy, i watched the 100, i've been through the furious and devastating queerbaits, and i've watched helplessly as the boom of proper progress with sapphic rep has burned and disappeared with the faults of the industry as it is rn and the resurgence of bury your gays in the form of tv cancellations

i even did a fucking guest lecture for a film & tv university course a couple years ago on all of this

we joke about the fact that queer (specifically sapphic) fans flock to any show with the barest hint of rep in it because we're so starved for it, and we talk about the fact that if nothing else, that proves that there's a market and an audience and it usually creates a huge wave of viewership and attention for the show

but i need to fucking point out: acting as though a show exists for the sole purpose of the sapphic relationship you've started watching it for is fucking detrimental to how you'll perceive the show, how it'll get talked about in fandom spaces and then beyond that (bc the line between fandom spaces and wider online discussion of media is a lot thinner than it was ten years ago) and isn't actually going to do any good for sapphic rep! like, at all! because guess what! unless you're watching a show where the entire storyline revolves around romance, this couple you're watching for ISN'T going to be the centre of the story! it's a part of it! and there's such a weird fucking entitled toxicity to how fans act around brilliant storytelling and worldbuilding and writing and characters throwing tantrums about not getting more screentime for the relationship they like because they don't actually care about any other part of the story. and the thing about people who watch something solely for a ship rather than the wider story it exists in, is that a lot of the time, you'll fundamentally misinterpret the characters and their dynamic because you're not taking any of the wider context of the world and story into account at all.

and yes, of course i'm talking about agatha all along in the immediacy. because we knew a long, long time ago that billy maximoff was gonna be an integral part of this story, long before we knew anything about what the vibe of this show was gonna be, long before anyone even had the tiniest whisper of rio's existence. the same way wandavision was monica rambeau's origin story even though the show was wanda's, we suspected that agatha all along would be billy's/wiccan's origin story even if the show focused on agatha. and you know fucking what. that's good fucking storytelling. this show is smart, it's funny, it's curious, it's campy, it's queer, and it's ensemble. that's always been the point. agatha and rio were a delightfully unexpected part of it that added such delicious tension and phenomenal sapphic rep, but you know what else! the point of that dynamic is to flesh out agatha's character! this show isn't about agatha and rio! it's about agatha and billy, who they are, how their pasts and their magic are connected, their traumas and their power and how the road shapes their futures! rio is a part of exploring agatha's past, and it's phenomenal, but i am so fucking bewildered by the ridiculousness of people's reactions to billy now having a bigger part in the story and there being less focus on agatha and rio. you do know that you write scenes and characters and stories in a way that makes sense right? that because of the nature of this show, even if we don't get more than a handful agatha and rio scenes for the rest of the episodes, they're both still sapphic characters, this is still wonderful sapphic rep, and this show is still very, very queer?

like, it's obviously not fair that we have to beg for scraps to have queer shows to watch. but that doesn't mean that any of us get to do such a fucking disservice to the people who make amazing shows and fight to put sapphic rep in them within the contexts of the stories they're telling by whining that it's not enough. what we're getting with agatha all along, what kathryn han and aubrey plaza and jac schaeffer have said with such grace and nuance and intrigue and depth about agatha and rio's relationship, is so fucking rare! and it's nestled within a story that's got so much other intricate storytelling that makes agatha and rio richer characters when you actually pay some fucking attention and care about who they are outside of their sexual tension!

and i'm saying this because this is an issue i see with So many other shows, where the worth of a show gets boiled down to fandoms wanting content of their ship and nothing else and then poisoning the conversation and reception around what else it is that show is doing with its story. idk get some fucking media literacy, grow up and respect artists and creatives.

#anyway #haven't had a rant on tumblr in a hot minute #agatha all along #agathario #billy maximoff #agatha harkness #rio vidal #queer tv

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wttcsms · 5 months ago

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ you know i got a soft spot for you !!

ᝰ.ᐟ peak romance is when you realize that he's got a soft spot for you. alternatively: a headcanon post about the specific things he only does for you or the specific things you do to him that only you can get away with. ( fem!reader & sfw )

featuring osamu miya, tobio kageyama, kiyoomi sakusa author's notes damn, y'all just let hq win every poll, don't you?? haha jk, im happy to write whatever u guys wanna see. keshi's song has been stuck in my head all day (is this my socal abg transformation?? [guys im 100% viet, im allowed to make that joke]) i definitely still want to make a bllk version + if you guys like this, i'm always open to more characters <3

౨ৎ OSAMU MIYA — gives you the first and last bite of his food why it's special: osamu takes being a foodie to the next level. the man can eat, and he loves to do so. ever since elementary, his classmates and friends learned better than to ask osamu to share any of his snacks. he's not rude about it, per se, but you can tell that he packed his food with the intention of him and only him consuming it. him and atsumu even get into verbal altercations over who ate the last snack in the pantry. osamu just loves food — so it's pretty obvious that he must really love you a lot to always offer you the first bite of a meal at the restaurant he's spent weeks waiting to open.

"and anyway, that's when— hey, what the hell!" bits of rice fly out of atsumu's mouth whenever he watches osamu give you the first serving of grilled meat. you and osamu invited atsumu out to eat, to celebrate him joining the msby black jackals, and because everyone was craving bbq, you all agreed on the same restaurant (for once). osamu is naturally in charge of grilling the meats. what throws his twin off guard, though, is the fact that osamu is serving you first. "what's the matter? and finish chewing before you speak, damn." osamu huffs, before beginning to assemble portions of the side dishes on your plate as well. atsumu looks at his own empty plate before looking at osamu's empty plate. "geez, [name], how'd you do it?" you look up from your food to answer atsumu. "do what?" "this selfish, gluttonous bastard never lets anyone else eat first!" atsumu tells you, and you just laugh as osamu starts swearing at his brother. "well," you tell atsumu brightly, once his argument with osamu is settling down. "osamu's always lets me eat first. he insists, really." osamu has to tell atsumu to shut the hell up and stop whining before he doesn't get any food at all.

౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA — takes pictures of you why it's special: tobio kageyama's camera roll before you consists of screenshots (some are accidental, such as the ones of his lock screen, or it's usually different athletic gear he wants to check out), photos of maps (because he is directionally challenged everywhere except for the court), and sometimes of virtual tickets (for when he actually does attend an event, usually for sports). tobio kageyama's camera roll after you consists of the same stuff, pretty much... except for the fact that there are now hundreds of photos he takes of you. he's not one to take pictures; he's a bit awkward around a camera, really, but he realizes soon after getting with you that he doesn't mind being in front of a camera as long as you're posing with him. he takes so many candids of you, like when you're washing the dishes or drifting off to sleep on the couch after bingewatching a tv show. if pictures are worth a thousand words, he's said "i love you" over a million times.

"oh my gosh, delete that!" you shriek, trying to make a mad grab for your boyfriend's phone. his reflexes are quicker, though, and he holds it out of your reach. "why would i delete it?" he asks innocently. "you look cute." the photo in question is the one he just took. the two of you ordered ramen for takeout, and yours was made spicier than usual. your lips feel swollen, and they're kind of stained red from the spices used, and the image captures that, but also highlights the tears welling up in the corner of your eyes as you're in the middle of a massive bite of noodles. "i look like i'm the thumbnail for a 'mukbangers who took it too far and died' video!" you wail. "delete it, tobio!" "but you look cute." he stands his ground, pouting a bit. "that's not fair. do not make that face." you groan, turning to look away from your boyfriend. honestly, with a face like that, it's no wonder why you couldn't force him to delete any pics of you. he's just too damn good at whittling away your resolve. "i think i'm gonna make it my lockscreen." he muses.

౨ৎ KIYOOMI SAKUSA — lets you make a mess of his things why it's special: kiyoomi is very particular about his personal belongings. he doesn't let his teammates borrow any of his training equipment. he refuses to wash his jersey with the rest of the team's, and instead, gets it professionally cleaned elsewhere. in the beginning of your relationship, kiyoomi always offered to wash the dishes, purely because he would only trust that it was truly cleaned if he could confirm that they were well scrubbed. the closer you two get, though, the more the boundaries blur. soon, his stuff gets mixed in with yours. you're doing the laundry together. he gives you his pillow when yours gets too warm. there's intimacy in that, even more so when you consider how prickly kiyoomi gets with these things.

"kiyoomi! you're home early!" fuck fuck fuck, is what's going on in your internal dialogue. you're baking a cake for dessert, only the mixer had a mind of its own, and you ended up covered in sugar, spice, and everything nice. which isn't that big of a deal. you already wiped down the counters, mopped the floors, and got started on the dishes. the only issue is that when you're at home, you have a habit of stealing kiyoomi's clothes. right now, you've still got on his sweatshirt. his nice, pristine, fresh from the laundry sweatshirt... that is now covered in nothing but flour and cake mix. you were going to wash it, honest! it's just... cleaning the kitchen took more time than you anticipated, and kiyoomi was supposed to stay at the gym for the whole day. he knows that that sweatshirt is his. you expect your boyfriend's eye to twitch, or for him to frown, or to even complain that you just ruined his very nice and outrageously priced hoodie. instead, he walks over to you, and places a kiss on your forehead. you've got flour all over you, including your hair, and surely he's got some flour on his lips now. he doesn't complain or say anything about the ruined sweatshirt. he just says, "thanks for baking. i'm going to go shower."

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu headcanons #drabble #fluff #osamu miya x reader #tobio kageyama x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader

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leefail · 3 months ago

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This is just a mini info dump from an Arab batfamily fan because I find Damian calling his siblings Akhi... adorable (for me as a native speaker watching a writer use Arab words) and, not painful, just... itchy, it URGES me to make a pptx with 300 slides and just? Talk about Arabic?

So... أخي, Akhi, Brother.

It's not incorrect. The word is used in the right place and delivers its intended meaning. Other Arab speakers might not find a problem with it. They'd feel odd like I did but will likely go "eh" and carry on. But I'm an Arabic enthusiast, so...

Like with every language with geographically widespread users, the Arabic tongue kind of- deviated from its roots. The language has naturally branched out into so many dialects I myself can't keep track of.

Arabs from different regions can understand each other. They use the same words but for different purposes and with different pronunciations.

The original root language that holds them all (Quranic Arabic) was simplified into an easier, standard version that is used for formal speeches and as a communication bridge (seeing that you can't, say, translate something to Arabic and say it's for all Arabs if you use a certain dialect. Because an Arabic dialect is an identity at this point, tell me somebody is Syrian, and I know them already)

Now, with the fun part.

See, no Arab calls any sibling of theirs Akhi, I myself would burst laughing if mine did.

Yakhoi يَخوي (nonstandard, everyday Arabic for o, brother) , maybe, if I'm calling a stranger from the streets or an offender I'm going to give a piece of my mind.

Or, hold your breaths, my brother is crying, and the lights are out and I NEED to use the tenderest, most loving, most adoring, most revering tone I could muster so he just knows he is loved and family. Y'know? This specific situation.

And other Arabs might just say, no, I use it when, I use it when, I don't use it, etc.

The point is, nobody will mention Akhi. Because it's a Standard Arabic word, a formal word, and a word used in translated texts and stories when a foreign character we don't consider part of us call their brother. It's weird, it's devoid of emotions, and it's like watching a robot trying to be emotional, but it's a translated text. That's what translated texts use, and it's fine.

It is fine, Standard Arabic has been used for stories so much that nobody questions its influence on a character's characterisation.

I'm not saying Standard Arabic shouldn't be used for story writing, quite the opposite, in fact. I'm just saying that if Arabic is used to represent an Arab, its usage should also consider an everyday Arab experience and manners.

Now to Damian.

Akhi is robotic. Damian's personality does allow him to fall under that category. If for his well refined manners and polite, formal speech.

But even the King wouldn't call his brother Akhi.

He'd call him by his name. For my community (and most, I'm sure) siblings are called by their names, and if we look up historic Quranic (Root) Arabic speakers, they, too, call their siblings by their name. Yes, even the Sultan.

If not by actual name, then either endearing or demeaning names.

Arabs LOVE endearing names, but they're dipped in a pool of honey I don't think Damian would like to dive in.

Talia, on the other hand, would most certainly call Damian Mama. Arab parents call their kids by their own titles. It's the ultimate expression of parental love of all times, in my opinion.

(Don't make Batman call him Papa, though. Pretty sure Damian would malfunction)

Well, I said all that, but watching writers include Arabic words in his vocabulary is still sweet. Tt is not even a word, but it's such an Arab thing it's my favourite.

If only I could make subtitles of everyday Arab talk and show you, their speech is heavy with, excuse my English, word softeners, it's like they're talking in a TV drama and not the real world.

Watching Damian adopting it would be interesting :D

#damian wayne #robin #batman #bruce wayne #talia al ghul #batfamily #dc comics #damian #batman comics #batman fanfics #batman fics #batman content #now I wonder if native English speakers feel the same when they hear me talk lol

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captainsamuelmorrigan · 2 months ago

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Spank Bank

Steddie! NSFW! TW: Porn, Body Dysmorphia

Steve has a huge problem. He's obsessed with this magazine he found at Eddie's house. Well, one photo specifically.

He found it in Eddie's copy of Dungeons & Dragons Players Handbook that he had been trying to use to create his first character. The book was so well-loved that for a moment, Steve had thought part of the book itself had fallen out, before looking down and seeing the cover of a gay porn magazine. His entire face turning red, thinking he hadn't been meant to see this, he quickly stuck it back into the back of the book and back onto his nightstand. Falling onto his back, staring up at his popcorn ceiling, trying to get the shirtless man from burning into the back of his eyelids.

He made it 36 hours before tentatively pulling the magazine back out of the book again. There wasn't any shame in knowing what a friend was into. Right? He's one of Eddie's best friends! They can laugh about it later! 'Haha, you left your dirty magazine in the book you lent me. You pervert!'

Steve looks at the front, a lithe and handsome young guy staring straight into the camera, holding up a football. The only indication that this magazine was dirty at all was the text advertising "HOT Young Jocks, Otters, and Daddies!!" Steve shakes his head and puts the magazine face down on the bed. He feels insane. This is way over the line.

Grabbing the magazine once again, he leafs through the pages, seeing all manner of muscular young men in a variety of sporty attire. Some in baseball outfits that were a size too small, legs spread on a bench to see his package straining against his pants, next to a picture of the same guy from the behind, the same pants making his rather round butt look almost like a girl's. Turning further past a few guys making out in camo gear, Steve comes across a dog-eared page.

For a moment, Steve remembers whose porn this is. Eddie had dog-eared this page to return to. The page that was folded for easy access was a muscular, sweaty guy in a basketball uniform. The uniform was a costumey shade of red that seemed that it was made for this shoot in particular, with the top cropped right below this guy's chest, the basketball shorts hanging low on this guy's hips, showing the waistband of his underwear, and a neatly manscaped happy trail. His hair was tossed around sexily. No, teased. It was kind of like Steve's, a warm, natural brown. This guy also had a few moles like Steve. Plus, the basketball outfit is almost a little too on the nose.

The page next to it made Steve's mouth go dry. This Not-Steve was below the camera now, mouth open for someone's hand to be pressing their thumb down onto his tongue. Looking through his long brown lashes like he was receiving sacrament, a silent prayer of reception in his soft eyes.

Steve hastily shoves the magazine in his bedside drawer. He struggles to sleep with so much blood southbound.

It's two days after that that he has to meet Eddie's eyes.

He's over to watch Rocky Horror again, nothing new. But this time, he sits an extra few inches away from Eddie. He isn't worried about Eddie making a pass at him, but he is worried he'll be weird if he thinks about Eddie thinking about sporty boys, his face getting all flushed and sweaty and- Quit it, Steven.

He stuffs pizza into his mouth, willing the cheesy bread to blanket his busy mind.

"Dost the King wish to share his royal thoughts?" Eddie quips.

"Shush, Freak." Steve flicks a piece of stale couch popcorn at Eddie.

Eddie cluches his chest, leaning back dramatically. "Oh! I'm wounded, Steve! How could you bring up my troubled past?"

"Sorry, just distracted tonight."

"Anything I can help with?"

Steve sighs. "Nah, just one of those nights."

They nodded at each other. They had seen enough of vines, girls with superpowers, and demobats to fill a million nights. They looked back towards the TV to watch the glittery outfits of the Transylvanians.

Steve felt a twist of guilt deep in his stomach at the small lie.

"Mm." Eddie said, knowingly.

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for quite a while, the campy sparkly show tunes bursting forth from the wood-paneled television enough to keep the quiet from becoming too awkward.

Janet breaks the silence with her iconic line, "I don't like men with too many muscles."

"I didn't make him FOR YOU!" Eddie shouts back along with Frank, laughing.

Steve takes a breath to gather his courage. "Do you like guys with muscles?"

Eddie's fingers drum on his thigh, looking away from Steve, pulling his hair to cover his face. "Whaat? Steve, do you really want to know my taste in guys? Isn't that like... weird to you?"

"Robin and I talk about our taste in girls all the time."

"Yeah, but that's different. You both like girls." Eddie's fingers pick up their rhythm, speadily pressing out a few chords into his thigh of choice. "You don't like guys."

"I don't, but Nancy does. I've talked with her, El, Max, even Argyle about the guys they like."

Eddie is quiet for a moment. "How about we talk about this another time. I'm kind of floaty on my painkillers right now."

They turn back towards the movie.

...

"Do you think Rocky or Frank-N-Furter is hotter?"

Eddie sighs, folding his hands in his lap. "Rocky. I think I'm too much like Frank. Plus, any gay guy can't resist those smooth muscles." Eddie laughs. "Not my usual type, though."

They part ways an hour later after the movie. Eddie's eyelids had started to droop during "I'm Going Home," and Steve knew he had about 20 minutes before he had to drag Eddie's spidery form to bed.

Once he was home, he grabbed the magazine and turned to the folded page. He stared down at Mr. Basketball, or "Rory," as the mag had dubbed him. He seemed slimmer than Steve, definitely less hairy.

Eddie's line from earlier chimed in Steve's head. "Any gay guy can't resist those smooth muscles." Well, Eddie liked smooth. Steve wasn't smooth. Eddie liked slim. Maybe that's what 'wasn't Eddie's type' about Rocky. This guy in the magazine was everything Eddie wanted. All the things Steve was, and the things he wasn't.

Steve pulled up his shirt, revealing his muscular stomach. It wasn't as toned as his high school days, but he would say he was muscular. His thick brunet curls, spreading up his stomach to his chest, and swirling down towards his cock.

As he pulls his shirt up further, more to the length of the boy's in the picture, he noticed the slight tenting of his pants.

Was this guy in the picture getting him hard? He looked between his junk and the mag a few times, noticing the tenting of Rory's own shorts in the second photo. It seemed that Rory was also a little more well-endowed than Steve. Steve had plenty, sure, but this guy? Steve clenched a little at the thought of staring down the barrel of that thing.

Eddie liked big-dicked, hairless, skinny jocks. Steve was maybe one out of three.

His hand drifted from playing with his stomach hair, following the swirls lower, into his pants. His dick twitching at the notion of use. Twirling the hair around his fingers, watching the front of his pants move, giving slight bits of friction to his quickly responsive dick. He groaned softly. Was he really about to jerk it to Eddie's porn?

He slowly wrapped his fingers around his cock, tugging lightly. He thought about Eddie there. What would Eddie think of Steve like this? Maybe he'd pull out the theatrics, like he used to in high school.

He imagined Eddie looking down at him. "You really think I'd want you, Harrington? With all that beastly hair? You look like a werewolf, man."

His dick twitched at the thought of Eddie looking at him with disgust. His eyes were getting misty.

"I don't even know how I'd get to that tiny cock through that thick jungle anyways. Truly a needle in a hairy haystack. The only thing you're good for is taking my load on those muscles."

That did it. Steve came with a weak cry, tears streaming down his face, thinking about Eddie's glistening cum on his stomach, soaking his belly fur.

The shower after was full of pitiful sniffles and more shame than Steve was used to. He felt empty.

The next week was full of more shame-wanks than Steve had ever done before. Night after night, Steve opening the magazine, finding more of his shortcomings, all ending in his hand around his dick and a pitiful cry in the shower. The nights following are full of fitful tossing and turning. He barely had the energy to do his hair in the morning.

By the 8th day of this Robin had rebooted the 'You Suck' counter. Steve couldn't really blame her. He had dropped VHSs, forgotten to tidy the break room, and worst of all, had snapped at Robin. He had gotten 3 strikes for that one.

"What's your damage, Steve? You're not being a real girl's girl right now. Plus you look like shit." Robin crossed her arms for emphasis.

"It's nothing."

"Truth, now." Robin leaned in. "Or I'm assuming you have brain cancer or something! You could even be a government replacement or something! What's my middle name? Wait... that's something the government would know. Where did I tell you I was a lesbian?"

"You're a lesbian?"

Robin's eyes widen in horror.

"The Starcourt bathroom, after the Russians. I'm me, I'm just distracted." Steve looks away from her. "I found a magazine in one of Eddie's books and it's freaking me out."

Robin scoots to be next to Steve. "Is it like... a porn magazine?"

Steve nods.

Robin cringes. "Are you freaked out in a 'this sex stuff is too weird' way, or in a 'this is gay and I don't like it way'?" She looks softly into Steve's eyes, obviously trying to be delicate with him.

"One of the guys looks like me, but he's like... not me? Maybe I'm making too big of a deal out of it." He starts to turn away from her.

"No! I'm sure it's weird to see that in a magazine, but it's just one picture, right? Could be a total coincidence."

"The page was marked. He'd definitely meant to come back to it."

She covers her mouth, eyes wide. "Oh that's..." She searches for the right thing to say before speaking. "Still, could be a coincidence! There are lots of guys with brown hair."

Later, at Steve's house, Robin stares at the page, mouth agape. "Steve this is... this guy looks A LOT like you. He's got your little chin moles and the basketball uniform, and the styled hair? I get why this squicked you."

"Squicked?"

"Made you feel gross. This is kind of shocking."

Steve pulls the magazine back to himself. "Well- I- I don't care if he's doing that to me." He's shaking a bit as he tries to collect his thoughts.

"You don't?" She raises an eyebrow, reaching towards Steve. "I don't think I understand."

"This guy isn't me! He's smaller, and better looking. Plus, he's like, HAIRLESS! Obviously Eddie would never want me if he likes this guy." Steve flops back, leaning limply against the wall.

"Woah woah woah!" Robin puts a hand on Steve's arm, rubbing soothingly. "Steve pause the negative self-talk for a second. Do you WANT Eddie to want you like that?"

Steve ceases for a moment. "I don't- It's not-"

Robin pats his arm. "It's okay if you do."

"No! It's not!" Steve sits up quickly, Robin having to jump out of the way. He hides his head in his hands, stressfully rubbing his face as his voice grows small. "It's not. He wouldn't-" His voice trembles. "He wouldn't want a guy like me. He wants a guy like that."

Robin reaches over to rub his back. "Steve, I know you're sleep deprived, and it seems like you're suffering through your first gay crush, but I promise you that you and that guy are much more similar than you are different. Even though I think it's really gross that Eddie is doing things while thinking about you, you seem to want that! And that's totally and completely okay."

Steve peeks out from behind his hands. "What if Eddie doesn't want me, though?"

"Stephen Maurice Harrington, you are the biggest idiot in the entire world if you think that Edward Munson is not" she takes a breath, cringing "crazy horny for you if he was willing to find a sporty soft-core porn magazine with a guy who looks so much like you that it grossed me out to see him in the position he's in." She folds her arms again, looking down her nose at him. She raises an eyebrow expectantly.

"Do you think I should talk to him?"

"Steve, I say this as your best friend. Go do him."

Hours later, Steve is on Eddie's doorstep. The newer, nicer, double-wide trailer in front of him suddenly much more imposing than it was last week. He brings his hand to the door, lowering it and turning around before hearing it open behind him.

"Steve? Robin said you were coming. What's going on?"

Dammit, Robin. There was no way to escape now. He plastered his trademark King Steve smile on before spinning around. "Hey! Yeah, I remembered I forgot to return your book." He offers Eddie back his book, knuckles white with stress. "I didn't get around to completing the character, but maybe we can hang out next week, and you can help? Unless you're busy or something. It's totally up to you, man." He crosses his arms to put something between him and Eddie, stepping back.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "Steve, you know I'm not doing anything. Is this about Rocky? I told you that this was going to make things weird." He hugs his book to his chest, using his other hand to lean on his cane. "If you're going to be homophobic about it, can we just forget about it?"

"I can't forget about it, Eds." Steve shakes his head.

Eddie cringes, starting to lean back to close the door, losing his balance a bit. The book slips from his grasp, falling in slow motion as Steve grabs after it. It slips through his fingers, the pages fanning open enough to allow the magazine to slip to the ground first. The book thudding to the concrete next to it. They both stare, at a loss for words.

Eddie covers his face defensively with his arm. "Steve I- I can explain. I'm so sorry that was in there. I totally forgot about it and- and- I would NEVER make a pass at you. You have to understand! I'm not like- like THAT!" Eddie looks like he wishes he could disappear into oblivion. If he still had the running power, Steve was sure he'd be down the block by now.

"You wouldn't?" Steve deflates. Of course he wouldn't.

Eddie's arm drops. "What?"

Steve bends down, stacking the mag on top of the book. "Robin said, she said the guy in the magazine looked exactly like me. That you... you probably liked me. I knew that I wasn't your type. It's okay." He offers Eddie a weak smile, he tries and fails to stop his chin from trembling. This hurt more than Nancy, more than anything.

Eddie pushes the book out of the way. "Steve." He takes a deep breath, his shaking calming down a bit. "Do you want it to be you?"

"He's thinner than me, though. I mean, I get it if that's your thing. He's thinner, way less hairy, his dick is- Well, you know, not a lot of guys are that big." Steve looks at the little bundle of dandelions in one of Wayne's mugs on the table by the door. Anything to avoid Eddie's eyes.

Eddie lets out a nervous laugh. "Steve. Steve. Look at me." He waves his hand in front of Steve's face, trying to get him to disengage from his self-hatred fixation. "I don't care about that stuff."

Steve looks into the curly-haired boy's eyes. "You don't?"

"Nah, I mean, not as much as some other people might. I like muscley guys as much as the next homo, but beggars can't be choosers in small towns."

"So you're settling for me?"

"Jesus, Harrington. Who pissed in your cheerios? No. I'm saying you're super fucking hot, like, way hotter than some guy in a magazine." He fidgets with his cane, tapping it on the floor, laughing nervously. "I've had that magazine since, like junior year. I forgot it was in that book."

"Did you have that page marked that whole time?" Steve holds his breath, his eyes sparkling as he looks at Eddie.

"Y-yeah? It's really embarrassing. I used to have this weird fantasy where you'd like, be one of those homophobic bullies who turned out to be gay and you'd do a bunch of nasty stuff with me. Again, it's very super embarrassing, actually. You totally don't have to do any of it with me if you don't want to." He tucks a curl behind his ear, looking at Steve sheepishly.

Steve laughs, leaning in to kiss Eddie. It's just an innocent peck, their lips meeting as their eyes close. Eddie's lips are softer than Steve expected. "I want to hear about it. We might try some of it out."

"Careful there, Stevie, you're gonna get my hopes up."

"And about the dick thing?"

"Steve, trust me, I am totally fine handling average."

"What about like, slightly above average?"

Eddie stumbles for a second time. "So the legends are true!!" He laughs.

(Edit: For those asking, the fic that inspired this is "Driving with the Devil" by objectlesson on AO3.)

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #bi steve harrington #inspired by that one doc hudson x lightning mcqueen fic

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vanteguccir · 1 year ago

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── ୨୧ !　𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗨𝗖𝗞 𝗕𝗢𝗬

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Nick and Chris are trying to record wednesday's video, but Matt's lovestruck gaze keeps going to Y/N, distracting himself.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, from anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Matt! Hellooo, is anyone there?" Nick spoke from behind the camera while moving his arms around exasperatedly, looking at his brother, who had his eyes focused on the couch in the back of the room.

Matt is the kind of guy that when he loves, he loves hard.

So to say that Matt was crazy about Y/N was an understatement, all that was on his mind day and night was his girlfriend; His days were happier with her by his side, he felt like he had more energy and strength to do anything, only because of her.

His favorite thing in the world was seeing her happy, so his heart warmed every time he heard her talking about the books she was reading with so much passion and affection - so much so that he lost count of how many times he took her to the bookstore and bought more than 100 dollars in books, just to be able to hear her talk about the characters that Matt never memorized the names of and the story that always made she speak too quickly and with so much devotion.

Whenever Matt was with his brothers or friends, he would mention his girl. It was automatic, everything reminded him of her. He was obsessed. With all that said, it was inevitable that, being in the same room, the boy wouldn't be able to take his eyes off her.

The theme of that Wednesday's video was something suggested by Y/N herself, as just a few minutes ago the four of them were lying on the sofa in the living room, the girl with her feet on Matt's lap while starting a new book, while the brothers watched old videos of themselves on television.

His hands caressed the tops of her feet covered in fluffy Iron Man socks, which she had probably stolen from his side of the drawer. Every now and then Matt's right hand would go up her legs to Y/N's left hand, taking it away from the book and to his mouth, sealing the warm, soft skin with love, keeping his eyes on the TV screen.

A smile grew on Matt's face every time his brothers made vomiting sounds, calling them disgusting. While Y/N felt like her cheeks could explode from how red they became.

Matt's teenage voice coming from the videos made Y/N's heart warm, and seeing the silly smiles on the triplets' faces as they traveled through the land of nostalgia made an idea pop into the girl's head, who instantly put down the book and paused the video, catching the attention of them.

And this takes us to the current moment, after Y/N has separated some pictures from when they were children, teenagers or nowadays on Nick's phone, having created an album to be used in that specific video.

Matt and Chris were sitting at the kitchen table, facing the camera, Nick - who was standing behind it with the album open on his phone -, and consequently also facing the sofa, where Y/N was sitting comfortably as she flipped through her book, a smile appearing every now and then on her face as her expressions changed according to the events in the story.

A cup of cappuccino that Matt made for her rested on her legs, keeping her warm, while her right hand came out of the book every now and then and picked up the drink, taking a sip.

It was the third time that Nick caught Matt's attention, who seemed to get lost in his girlfriend's figure, and all external sounds, including his brothers' voices, became muffled.

To disguise it, the boy would randomly guess the name of one of his brothers or himself when Nick showed a small part of a picture, getting it wrong almost every time. This led to him having the lowest score.

"What? Yes, that's Chris." Matt blinked his eyes quickly, looking away from Y/N and to the phone in Nick's hands.

"Matt, it's you!" Nick exclaimed, rolling his eyes and sighing, he knew the video would continue like this if he didn't get Y/N out of the room, but his best friend looked too comfortable on the couch.

"Pay attention, dumbass." Chris slammed the palm of his left hand against Matt's forehead, earning a slap back on the arm.

Y/N lifted her head from the book momentarily, holding back a laugh as she saw the brothers fighting, rolling her eyes playfully before returning her attention to the story, adjusting her position on the couch.

"I'm sorry, I'll pay attention. I promise." Matt raised his hands in surrender, swallowing hard as he glanced briefly at Y/N and saw her laughing softly, returning his eyes to his older brother and forcing himself to keep them there.

"For those of you who aren't understanding, Y/N is sitting on the couch reading, and Matt can't stop looking at her. He's obsessed, I swear." Nick muttered behind the camera, shaking his head even though they couldn't see him.

When the first round ended, Chris got up and took Nick's place behind the camera, agreeing to be the next to show the pictures and be the jury.

Nick handed him the phone and sat down next to Matt, looking briefly at the couch and closing his lips in a thin line at Y/N's wide eyes at the book, probably surprised by some absurd scene.

The oldest looked at Matt, seeing that his brother was already looking at Y/N, too. Their eyes quickly met when Matt felt Nick looking at him, a laugh escaping both of their mouths.

"Are you ready?" Chris asked after choosing the first picture he would use, receiving a nod from the two brothers, who had both arms on the table so they could reach the "button" faster.

The youngest zoomed in on the pic and turned the screen towards the two, waiting for one of them to get it right.

Matt had never moved so fast, his left hand slamming against the post-it too hard as his eyes were wide in euphoria.

"It's me! Look at Y/N's hand there." Matt shouted in excitement, raising his right hand and pointing at the phone behind the camera.

"Yeah, that's Matt." Nick sighed, knowing that even though he got it right too, Matt spoke first. "You only got it right because Y/N is in the picture!"

"Obviously, he knows Y/N's traits more than he knows his own." Chris scoffed from behind the camera, zooming out of the image and looking for the next one.

The picture in question was from a day when the four of them went out to dinner at an Italian restaurant about a year ago, Nick and Chris were sitting on one side of the table and Y/N and Matt on the other. Matt had his elbows resting on the wooden table and his hands crossed, laughter escaping his lips when he heard something Chris said, while Y/N joined him in laughing, her hands crossed around his right bicep and her head resting on his covered shoulder.

The pic was taken by Nick, being the passionate photographer that he was, and Chris felt a smile stretch across his face as he remembered the moment.

Even though they made fun of their brother so much for being a crazy in love for Y/N, they felt their chest fill with joy for their brother every time they saw them together. They knew that their brother had found his other half, and seeing him as happy as ever made them just as happy.

"I know, he's obsessed with her." Nick commented again, receiving a slap on the back of his head, letting out a laugh when he saw Matt roll his eyes, but don't deny anything.

The girl looked up again when she heard her name being said by one of the boys and her person being mentioned more than once. Her eyes met Matt's blue ones, who looked at her with love and affection, an easy smile appearing on his face almost automatically.

Y/N smiled back, blowing a kiss, which the boy pretended to catch with his left hand and keep in the pocket of his hoodie.

When the round changed again, it was Matt's turn to stand behind the camera and choose the pictures.

The boy got up from his seat, fixing his pants and walking over to where Chris was, taking the phone from his hand and closing the last picture chosen by the youngest.

His thumb scrolled across the screen, looking for the first one he would use as he let his brothers settle down.

A smile stretched across Matt's face as he passed by a picture of Nick and Y/N, where they were both wearing sunglasses, with feathers around their necks and making faces at the camera. Nick had his left hand raised showing a peace sign, and it was there that Matt decided to zoom in, but not before lingering his eyes for a few seconds on the full image, admiring his girlfriend there.

Matt took advantage of the fact that his brothers were in a silly argument and turned around momentarily, looking at his girl, who was now in a position that in his head was probably very uncomfortable, but he already knew that for Y/N, the most different positions were the best.

The girl felt eyes on her and looked up, seeing Matt standing there admiring her. A reddish color took over her cheeks, and her fingers played with the pages of the book, trying to hide her shyness.

Matt nodded briefly at the book as if asking her how the story was going. Y/N smiled at the action, making a chief kiss gesture with her right hand while her left held the book open, afraid of losing the page she stopped at.

"I want to hear all abo-" Matt began in a low voice, just for Y/N to hear, but his sentence was cut by a hand hitting the table.

"I'm going to get Y/N out of the room if you don't turn around now and do your job." Nick said, crossing his arms. Chris held back his laughter beside him, his face turning red from the force he exerted in the action.

"You're so unnecessary." Matt rolled his eyes, throwing a wink at Y/N, who had a goofy smile, before turning to face his brothers again.

"No, you are." Nick responded, opening his mouth to argue against Matt again, only to be stopped by Chris, who smacked his left arm while laughing.

"Go ahead, Matt." The youngest asked, straightening up and clearing his throat, looking at his brother as he waited for the first picture.

Nick sent a bored look to Y/N, who was still watching them intently. The girl laughed softly, turning her attention back to the book as she felt her heart warm.

Y/N felt so grateful for her boyfriend and his brothers, who she saw as family. She would never forget the day Nick thanked her for how happy she made his brother, but little did he know, it was Matt who made her the happiest.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

extra - comments:

"Matt looking behind the camera every 2 minutes with a lovestruck look on his face was the cutest thing I've ever seen 😔"

"Matt being able to guess the picture that had Y/N in it just because of her 😭"

"I love how Nick and Chris make fun of Matt for his love for Y/N all the time"

~ "deep down, they love them together more than the couple itself lol"

"I want to have a boyfriend who is as obsessed with me as Matt is with Y/N 🧎‍♀️"

"Y/N is a total bookworm, and I'm here for it!"

~ "petition for her to make tiktoks about the books she reads ✏️📄"

"it's incredible to see the difference between Matt before Y/N and Matt during Y/N. She's so good for him 🥺"

"Matt smiles so much when Y/N is near 😫"

"Matt and Y/N >>>>>>> any other famous couple"

2K notes · View notes

deafsignifcantother · 1 year ago

Text

the v's reaction to someone taking your hearing aid

♥ summary: "what the Vees would do if they noticed their partially deaf s/o being picked on - like the other people would tear out their hearing aid(s) and break them and stuff" @aceduchessdragoness ♥ characters: velvette, vox, valentino ♥ notes: screaming and crying okay so i did val's spanish as spain spanish bc i think spain sign language would be better than narrowing his signs down to a specific latin american country but if the translation is cringe then tell me bc i'm literally using an lse dictionary

Vox

♥ word count: 1.9k ♥ notes: i use [Y/N] for the first time in my career ong, she/her pronouns used in third person, reader doesn't speak and only signs, protective but violent vox, vox in a healthy relationship, reader gets harassed in public

It was never a mystery to you how Vox always knew where you were. Even without the watch on your wrist, you felt his eyes on you, the looming knowledge of persistent monitoring.

Not that it bothered you, of course. If anything, you were worried that he wanted to spend his time watching you instead of running his business. But whatever, it was flattering.

Whenever you went on your routine errands, you would smile at every television or security camera you encountered. On the big screens in Vox's room, he feels like the common softening of his heart. Your smile always seems so genuine. How can somebody like you adore him so much?

Blue light illuminates your living room. From the kitchen, you groan as you make your way to the television. Can he stop bothering you at this hour? All you wanted to do was get some damn water, but of course, as always, he's monitoring you.

Words pop up on the screen as you approach it. You rub your eyes, the brightness overwhelming. You reach for your coffee table.

GO TO SLEEP

With the sudden click of the remote, you smile as the screen goes black. One, two, three... it lights up again.

DON'T TRY

Again, the screen goes black. One... again, a bright blue illuminates you.

[Y/N]. The television shakes.

You snicker at him, finally sitting on the floor and putting the remote down. On the other side of that screen, Vox sits on his swivel chair, gazing up at you, your frame taking up multiple monitors. Your eyes look below where his point of view is.

"It's late," you sign, and the light makes your hands shine in the darkness. "Dim it a little."

He listens; his small act of consideration makes you melt. Your eyes soften immensely. Internally, he begs you to stop looking at him like that; it's embarrassing how good it makes him feel.

The television is still a blinding blue as you go from the living room to the bedroom; he follows you per any screen by your side. Worst of all, a flat-screen faces your bed, which was mandatory.

"Goodnight, Vox." You sign while putting your face up to the screen.

You turn this TV off, and to your delight, it stays off.

With a yawn, you stretch your morning aches away and lean your head against the table of your vanity. You get a few seconds of shut-eye before popping back up. Vox is watching; if he notices you're tired, he will try to be domestic and nap with you regardless of how much work you must do today. So you rub away your sleepy eyes and massage the tension in your jaw. Putting on your hearing aid is first on your daily to-do list; you'd like to hear if he pops up on your television and decides to update you on his morning. Sometimes, he gets so impatient. Next, while picking up your moisturizer, you try not to shiver at the coldness once it touches your fingers.

You wish yourself a good morning before rubbing it in.

At the same time of day, Vox was already up and doing his rounds, making sure his employees were getting work done. He gets antsy between when you wake up, and you get to the tower. Every morning once he sees you entering the elevator, he'll wait on the other side to welcome you in with a kiss to the forehead.

Vox checks his watch. It shows his favorite things: your vitals, location, and pretty little face whenever you dial him.

You've finally left your place, thank goodness. Pacing aimlessly has never looked good on him.

He stands by his window, looking down at the streets below, watching you approach. You're wearing your usual uniform, one that he picked out just for you; it consists of the same red and blue stripes he has on his everyday suit. It makes you an eyesore in the everyday crowd.

If you didn't know any better, you'd lift your head to see if you could spot him among the many stories. The building is beautiful, overpowering. The V tower's magnificent brightness outshines the rest of the V district. The constant noise of people always has you walking with your hearing aid turned as low as it can go without turning off.

With the pink light reflecting off your face, you look both ways before crossing the street, a bright smile on your face, stepping onto the asphalt before a hand grabs your wrist.

Vox furrows his brow at the sight.

You turn your head and see a friendly reporter and a cameraman, the camera not yet rolling. Your pupils flicker between them.

"Hello!" She smiles, removing her hand. With caution, you fully face her, stepping back onto the sidewalk. The 'professional' persona you've been forced to practice is finally coming to fruition.

"Hello! I'm Deaf; I don't think I'd be able to do an interview."

She flicks her hand and rolls her eyes in the most friendly way possible. "Not a problem," she signs, moving the microphone vibrantly, "I can work this out, no problem!"

You widen your eyes in a wowwwww, oh my god, that's perfect... "Oh, what a kind woman you are!"

Vox? You beg internally. Baby? Save me.

Up high, he doesn't remove his eyes from you. With the use of sign language, he can't listen in, and he can't tell whether he needs to intervene or not. There's nothing wrong with going to check, right? Or will he seem possessive, or scared? He doesn't want people to think he doesn't want you to talk to anyone. It's good that you get to sign to someone other than him and Velvette, right?

The camera starts rolling, and you square your shoulders, adjusting your sleeves for more mobility. The news reporter throws the microphone at the cameraman, who does not catch it but ignores it as she shows off her brightest smile.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I have the sweetest person in hell with me, [y/n]! Tell me, how long have you two been together?"

Of course, the news has been recognizing you recently. You've been seen countless times adjusting Vox's tie (he purposely fucks it up so that you'll step close to him) as well as wrapping your arm around his and pinching the corner of his screen endearingly before you give him a babying compliment. Many people have taken pictures and edited hearts around you two. People are obsessed with how "heavenly" your relationship is.

"Oh, many months now!" You nod to yourself, trying to stop your eyes from shining with admiration. You always get so soft when you think about him; it's one of the things people notice. She looks at him as if he's her entire world.

"Beautiful!" The reporter puffs out her bottom lip innocently. "I'm sure you make that man very happy."

What do you even say to that? I hope so.

"The happiest."

"Now," she doesn't hesitate to change the topic. "Are there any challenges you two face about your... differences?"

Your eyebrows raise before furrowing in confusion. Differences? At first, you think she means his television head, but when she notices you pause, she rudely clarifies. "I mean, with your lack of hearing, you know? Don't you find it a little embarrassing?"

You lean your body away from her. "What are you saying?"

The shock of the tonal shift has you freezing in place. The reporter looks at the camera, her eyes squinting with sadistic amusement. Her fingers twitch as she lifts her arm, not even looking at you before plucking the hearing aid from your ears. She crushes it in her hand.

At first, you grab your ear, pressing your hand to it in disbelief. Your face contorts, your shoulders dropping as you try to step away. Why couldn't you see this coming? And on television—is that where this is airing? The air around you goes quiet, the sensation of spatial awareness fading a bit as you stumble back, your hand still grasping your ear. The watch on your wrist hits your cheek, and without a second thought, you tap on the screen repeatedly. The next thing that popped into your head: her bravery is the most surprising.

With a brief fall of light, Vox stands where the lady once was. You eye him with uncertainty, a look you have never given him. He faces the cameraman, not looking your way. Your eyes go up and down his body; his stance is tense, his arms are folded behind his back, and his fingers sparking with small glimmers of electricity.

You see that lying behind him is the woman, body entirely limp, smoke coming from her mouth, and her eyes looking stuck open.

He speaks to the camera, pointing his finger at it, staring intensely into the shaking, blinking red light. Your hands link around his bicep. Composure, you remind yourself. You turn to the camera with a weary smile and lean your head against him.

"That'll never happen again." He stares at himself in the mirror. His dressers and tables are filled with claw marks from his previous meltdowns.

You just sit on his bed, crossing your legs uncomfortably, watching him as he goes back and forth between signing to you and mumbling to himself. You haven't said a word. You just keep your eyes on him.

He protected you in the way he knew best. He wanted nothing more than to put his hands on the sides of her head and crush her skull. It would stain his suit, awful. Even worse, your suit would have been ruined, too.

Should he force you to move into the tower? He's always wanted to. The commute would be no more, and you'd be safe from the outside.

Should he prevent you from leaving at all without him? No, that might be too much, but his entire body craves to keep you secure and protected.

He won't ask you what you want. He knows there's a chance you would just coddle him and tell him it's okay. There's no reality where he will do nothing; he must devise his own plan. But first (actually, secondly, after getting his anger out on his furniture), he wants to make sure his sweetheart is okay.

Once he calmed down and sat next to you, rubbing your thigh, he watched as you scrolled through social media, looking at the hundreds of people laughing and reposting the event. He shuts off your phone, grabs it, and tosses it across the room. You roll your eyes helplessly before he lifts his hands and signs to you.

"I will track everyone down and punish them severely, baby. No one will ever touch you again, or else they will the next flashing headline."

"I know, baby," you wrap your arms around his chest and lean into him, rubbing your cheek against the smoothness of his overcoat.

You hum against him, finding it in yourself to smile softly. Protector, protector, protector. You run those words through your head; they're comforting to their own extent. Suppose he ends up locking you inside the tower. In that case, it's better than him leaving you entirely over this (which, obviously, he'd never actually do). Spending every morning and night with him wouldn't be wrong. Everything happens for a reason.

He leans back onto the bed, his feet dangling off as you curl into his side.

Before resting completely, you use a hand to sign into his chest. "Everything will be fine."

Your coddling, though annoying, provides the most relaxing warmth to his body. He groans, wrapping an arm lazily around you, feeling the usual butterflies in his stomach as you press a small kiss to his collarbone.

Velvette

♥ word count: 1.6k ♥ warnings: reader speaks, party scene, getting harassed by a man, vox is in this too ♥ a/n: i completely headcanon that velvette took an asl class in highschool when she was alive, i have no idea how velvette usually acts in fanfiction so this is MY velvette now

Velvette found you, such a pretty thing, in your little corner of the internet, making content for your little community. That little corner of yours is where you told the news and interpreted a lot of banter from the overlords. Your channel was the perfect mix of education and drama, all for the Deaf community in Hell.

You were, as Velvette described, a tea channel.

She invited you to the V tower to show you around. The three V's introduced themselves to you in their own way, offering you a job. The bossman, ever so gentlemanly and charming, didn't let Valentino try and make sex motions to you for longer than necessary. And before Velvette forced Vox to scurry off, she forced him to snap a few pics of you posing with her as a faux collab.

You weren't stupid. You knew Velvette only wanted your attention to spread whatever brand she endeavored to popularize. But this might be a golden opportunity. You'd learn the behind-the-scenes from three different overlords, and the content you can produce will gather insane traction.

Velvette is just so sweet; the way she showed her care for you was just through gift-giving.

She loved putting together gift boxes for you, similar to the sorority kind. The boxes went from cute little baskets to a cardboard box resembling a PR send. These would always be set on your desk with a bit of note from her, each time she'd signed off her name with a heart.

Jackets, shoes, candies, jewelry, pens, everything. The gifts are versatile with familiar themes of hearts. Every day was like Valentine's Day when she was 'courting' you (did she even realize she was?).

She made you bags: totes, crossbody bags, clutches, phone pouches, coin purses, anything she thought you would need with an array of colors to match any outfit. She put in hair clips and pocket mirrors, cozy slippers and fancy journals.

She even got you two matching bracelets.

You love the smirk she wears whenever she notices you adorning anything she's given to you. Damn right, she thinks, I knew it would look good.

The most enormous box she'd ever given you was the day before one of her fashion shows. Inside were glorious clothes from her collection, all for you to pick out and wear. She really loved her stripes.

You put your hearing aid on, smiling at yourself in the mirror as you watch the charm she made you glisten in the light. With your bracelet ornamenting your wrist, you pat down your stripped outfit before taking a deep breath.

Your entrance reeks of reluctance. The temptation to retreat back to your room is unbearable. Seeing Velvette will definitely lift your mood; where is she? Surely, she'd be the highlight of the room, but amongst all the women with their eccentric colors and clothing shapes, you can't find your eye drawing to her anywhere.

The sounds of the party blend together in a nasty concoction; you can't help but turn your hearing aids off. The sound is similar to what it's like being outside in a heavy storm; the wind, the pouring rain, the blur and whine of the hearing aids. And instead of lingering by the double doors, you push into the crowd. You're the least recognizable in the crowd of celebrities, but it doesn't stop people from moving out of the way when you try to wiggle through. You're wearing stripes, her stripes. You're either bold or very special to her; they don't want to intervene.

But your stripes also get some people to stare at you longer than they would have otherwise. Across the room, in front of you, you notice a tall, almost shirtless model coming your way, directly staring at you. You break the quick eye contact before squeezing through a cluster of girls taking selfies. They won't let you through, grimacing but not laying any hands on you. When you turn to go the other way, the man is behind you, holding out his hand, waiting for you to put your hand in his.

You click on your hearing aid and scroll up. "What did you say?" You ask verbally, clearing your throat a bit.

His eyes bounce from yours to your hand, looking at what you're touching. His head tilts in interest. You don't like the sight of his smile.

"Oh wow." He says.

Immediately, "Yeah, no," Velvette puts her hands on your shoulders and tries to push you away. "I swear, don't even look at him, he's fucking insane."

He speaks over her, but you can't process his words over how close Velvette's lips are to your ear. Her warm breath sends goosebumps down your arms, and your spine straightens. This only makes her hum in amusement.

After turning and growling at him, she effortlessly maneuvers you away. Eyes watch you even closer now as she touches you. You let her guide you throughout the room with not a clue as to where she's leading you, if anywhere. But eventually, you two end up in front of a mirror the size of a wall.

She stares at you through the mirror. "Look at you," she signs, "extravagant as ever, darling."

"Thanks to you."

"Obviously." And she bumps her hip into yours. You laugh, mimicking the motion back.

You had ditched your initial motive of getting close to the V's to gain more information about them. They were fine people to hang out with, making you laugh and feel involved. Velvette gave you special attention that nobody in your afterlife has ever given. Her lipstick left stains on your cheek whenever she kissed you, and she made an 'appointment' in her schedule once a week to paint your nails the same black color as hers.

The afternoon went by quickly; you spent time clapping and watching models show off their garb. Velvette is a true talent.

But something ruined your evening. The air hummed with laughter and the rhythmic beat of music. Velvette had been whisked away by the other V's to overlook the crowd and count the people who had attended. Among the colorful crowd stood a familiar figure whose eyes sparkled with mischief. Different from last time, you don't notice when he starts to approach again.

"You," he coos, placing his hand under your chin. You must stare at his lips to comprehend his words over the music, an awful innuendo you wish you could have avoided. He leaned in closer to you, and in return, you leaned back. Valentino had told you a bunch of times to not worry if someone puts their hands on you, that it's a typical formality in Hell. You would always roll your eyes at him, never expecting a stranger to grab you like this.

You were mentally preparing yourself to dodge a kiss. But then, daringly, he leaned in and gently plucked the hearing aid from behind your ear, holding it aloft like a trophy. Fear flickered across your face, your hand instinctively reaching for it, but he pulled it away. The charm Velvette gave you dangles like a jewel.

"Don't," you say with desperation. He puts a finger in front of your face and waves it back and forth. He coos, using that hand to grab your face as if you were the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

Your eyes are locked on the charm, and it's brash jolts. You almost beg for him to just give you the charm back.

In the middle of a conversation with Vox, Velvette raises an eyebrow; shocked and pissed, she glared at whoever had torn off your hearing aid. She mumbles, "I'd tear their hearing aid off and break it."

Before she can move closer to you, Vox puts his hand in front of her while watching the interaction. "Think before acting, Velvette."

Her frustration turns into anger as she pushes his hand away. He lets her run off; he holds a hard stare as her pink hair bobs through the crowd.

Your eyes are stuck wide with shock, and a million things run through your head, all relating to the appropriate situational response.

True to your casual self, you were having a hard time not just jamming your hand in his eyes and kicking his shins. Would you make Velvette mad? Vox?--Would that result in you being removed from the V Tower? It's all so complicated. Though you were panicking over a 'quick' decision, you and the man stayed in that position for a few seconds. He stayed laughing, dropping the hearing aid and stomping on it.

At almost the same time, Velvette threw a glass from someone's hand at the man, perfectly aimed, hitting him in the face. She lets out a small "nice!" before rushing to you.

Her hand runs down your face, and she holds you tenderly, not turning to face Vox as he puts himself between her and the man. Your eyes bounce around the entire room. Will you ever get a break from being at the center of attention?

"We're leaving. Now." she signs in a single motion so quick that it makes you smile, relieving some of the stress that's been making your head pound. She's able to sign so naturally now.

The crowd splits into two.

Behind the both of you, Vox is declaring an end to the event, apologizing to the people for the inconvenience. Velvette keeps muttering about him under her breath; you can see her lips moving and her face grimacing.

She has beads in front of her, a bunch of small charms with string. She signs, looking up at you. "I should have killed him."

You just watch her craft another charm, laying on her bed and kicking your feet. "That would have been funny."

She scoffs and smiles, her painted lips turning upwards. Her fingers trace over the beads, deciding which one to pick up. She wants to make it different than the last one, but what should it look like? She picks up a pink heart with a slight hum before sliding it down onto the string. She whispers to herself, perfect.

Valentino

♥ word count: 1.7k ♥ note: reader is a vodka drinker, i'm obsessed with writing a loving valentino, reader doesn't talk very much and prefers sign, sexually suggestive things happening but it's not nsfw, kinda written like ass, drugs mentioned but no named just symptoms, takes place on porn set, valentino kills someone, blood description

Every time you step into the studio, you're hit by the smell of sex, mostly the sweetened stench of that strawberry lube he loves so much. Visiting his work is not usually something you do often, but he's seem to be so busy lately that you can't help but bring him a drink, the most beautiful drink in hell: vanilla vodka. You can already see him licking him lips.

Strawberry lube, so prominent in your nose.

His legs are crossed and he stares at the scene in front of him, his sunglasses hiding whatever his emotions are, but his lips are still in a prominent scowl.

Though, when he sees you, his expression changes drastically. He stands with so much excitement that the actors stop to see what he's reacting to. All eyes are on you, you shy away from the attention a bit but Val doesn't seem to notice, else care.

"Amor mío!" One of his hands signs, running down his cheek while his bottom two motions for a hug.

Before you can initiate a hug, he wraps his arms around you and brings you into his chest, trapping your arms in. He's warm, vibrantly so, it's hard not to melt against him. You couldn't be surprised if you let out a small moan at the contact. Oh, how I've missed you so much.

He pulls away quicker than you'd like and takes the bottle from your hand, holding it up close to his face so he can examine it. "Burnett's, oh you shouldn't have!"

He hesitates, torn between his responsibilities and the irresistible allure of having a drink with the person he was enamored with. He's not so easy to whisk away from work, therefore (of course), you seem to be the only person who he is at every beck and call.

You smile softly, "I knew you'd like it."

With a laugh, he takes your hand and spins you, his free hands popping open the bottle, ready to embark on whatever journey you had in store.

He turns and addresses his employees, granting them a small break before turning to you with his sharp smile.

And together, you slip away from the set, leaving behind the hustle and bustle of the studio for a simple moment of peace and luxury. Walls blazed with hues of pink and blue, you both find yourselves nestled on the fluffy couch in a lounge, a wineglass in your hand while he chugs from the bottle.

"You've been so busy." You sign. You switch the wineglass into your non dominant hand to avoid spilling any of the contents. Val holds the bottle with his bottom set of hands while signing with his top ones (he was originally going to do it the other way around).

“I know, princesa,” one of his hands comes up and squeezes your cheek. “Business calls, I cannot help myself.”

“Which is why I came to visit.”

The two of you clink glass upon glass before taking a drink. He’s trying not to finish the drink before you, he’s making sure to take his time. He doesn’t want you to leave as much as he doesn’t want to rush the break. His eyes go over your entire form and take you in, there feels like an eternity since he saw you last. Why do you have so much patience for someone like him? It’s astonishing. Surely someone as beautiful as you could find someone sweeter than her. But he’s grateful to have you, he’s mildly addicted to that internal battle of whether he wants to cherish you or own you (perhaps he can do both? Something he’s never done before).

“What?” You ask.

“Hm?” His fingers pinch together in the casual way of signing.

“You’re staring at me.”

“I can’t resist.”

“What were you thinking about?” You sign and lean forward, giving him bright eyes. Your gaze swallows him, moth to a flame.

He matches your body language, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, amor mío.”

When he tries to grab your hand, you pull away. “You're acting as if you're wine drunk.” You sign. You have a sappy smile as you put your glass to your lips.

“Never,” he wiggles his fingers as he signs. You eye him carefully, debating asking if he's kept his favorite gun on him. There's nothing worse than a drunk Valentino.

After the wine break, he has to go back to work. He feels himself getting irritated as he walks back, why can't he just continue spending the day with you? Is it worth sending everybody home? No, he has a job to do, and he needs to complete it before relaxation. But maybe he'll consider taking breaks (his least favorite word) to spend time with you.

You follow, both of your hands holding his, clinging onto him like a child.

Everybody was still in the studio, waiting for his return, not daring to leave in fear of him coming back. Actors were talking to each other casually, away from the camera, it built a strange sense of community for you. They're so nice to each other off-camera.

He drags you to his chair still holding your hand as he sits in it.

Drinking with you had been a much-needed respite from these people. He made a mental note to gift you more wine.

You remove your hands from his and smile. “Get back to work, baby.”

Pearly white, sharp teeth show through his large smile. He presses his lips against each of your knuckles while his eyes skin over all of his actors, counting them. He makes eye contact with one particular one, a woman. They stare at each other for more than a second. She's scowling at him and he squints his eyes at her. The fuck is your problem?

She usually looks at him with sultry looks, but now there's a sharpness to them.

But his eyes peel away from her and go back to you, he leans forward and presses a slow kiss to your forehead. He signs low, almost as if he's whispering a secret. "I'll come see you after."

You smile and start turning away. "Good."

Upon noticing your departure, the actors and crew start returning to their places, keeping an eye on Valentino and any commands he might make. Their eyes are always on him, worried to test his anger. But not all the actors were worried about testing his anger.

"Hey," an actress grabs your hand before you could reach the door and you turn to her. She talks, her voice making your hearing aids buzz, "Are you guys like, dating? Are you dating the Valentino? Like, literally one of the V's."

Her words all bunch into one. You blink, taking time to think about both what she could be asking and the connotation behind it. "Yes?" It sounds more like a question than an answer. Is that the correct response?

She hums and nods, her eyes wide in amazement. Her pupils are large. Her cheeks are hollow and she has strong eyebags. With a distant sound from Val, him talking to the crew, she looks back at him before turning to you. "I mean like, why? Why would he want you?"

Oh no. You try to move away but she just follows you, stepping in front of you closer. It's like being cornered, being trapped in an almost unavoidable situation.

"Why wouldn't he?" You test with a squint of your eyes.

She just smiles at you. "Uhm," and her arm reaches over, grabbing the hearing aid from your ear, pinching it between her claws, "Obviously this."

You reach for it but she pulls it away from you, trying not to laugh.

So you do what you know is the best solution, you call his name, practically screaming it. "Val!"

At the sound of you using your voice he whips his head around. The air goes still, you can tell from the way she pauses. Her pause is only for a second, she reeks of hesitance and sudden worry. She looks at the hearing aid in her hand as if she's finally realizing what she had done and what was about to happen.

Before she can say another word, her entire body stiffs, her eyes widen before her pupils roll back. And then she's on the floor, almost falling onto you.

You wipe blood from your cheek and groan.

Val stares at you, his expression unreadable. In his hand is his jeweled gun. He pauses for a moment to take a long drag of his cigarette, letting out a cloud of red smoke before he looks at his gun with a toothy smile until he tucks it back into his belt.

He starts to approach you and for a second you're scared, it was a primal feeling. He walked like a king.

All you can do is watch him, frozen in place.

The first thing he does when he reaches you is bend in front of her body, plucking the hearing aid from her hand. It's bloody, the liquid drips from it as he lifts it up. He wipes some of it off on his shirt before handing it to you. He drops it into your open hands.

He speaks, knowing you'd have a hard time understanding. "Laying her slutty hands on my angel..."

You lean into his touch when he caresses your face. His eyes gaze at you, softening, his smile widening at how soft your eyes look. You're his greatest treasure. He gets off immensely from protecting you, he would ravish you to death in this moment if he could. Valentinos eyes drift down at the body and his pupils narrows as he glares at the dead woman. He's going to have to clean this up. Her blood is getting every where.

One of his thumbs rub against your cheek, touching the bloody smear. It stains your skin in a delectable way. So perfect.

He melts when he sees your soft eyes slowly start to match the mischievous smile growing on your face. He protected you and he was open about being dithered over her behavior, he didn't laugh at it or tease you about it. You don't doubt for an instant that he's the man of your dreams. He killed someone for you in an instant.

When you take his thumb into your mouth, sucking the blood, his spine straightens. He pulls away immediately and turns around, yelling at the his workers that filming will be cut short today.

He just can't wait any longer to spend some lovely time with you.

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #x reader #deaf community #x deaf reader #x deaf s/o #velvette x reader #valentino x reader #velvette hazbin hotel #valentino hazbin hotel

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mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 5 days ago

Text

Cracked

Summary: Now that Harry has time off from the fire station, him and Y/n spend (lots) some time doing what they've missed. Kind of a continuation of this! Firefighter!Harry x author!reader

Warnings: loooottsss of smut, some humiliation, all that jazz! Also, plz ignore typos lol

Wc: about 4k!

Now that Harry has hired on more guys at the fire station he and Y/n both have more time for each other and Harry has been loving every second of it.

He just got finished with hiring a new guy, who will be taking a big load off, he will be dealing with more of the little, less urgent calls that Harry has had to tend to during these low staffed months.

“Well, we hope you like it here Bryan. I know we're happy to have you on with us. You'll be saving us- specifically me, a lot of time.” He gives Bryan a polite smile, standing up from his desk to give his new hire a tour. He slips his phone out of his pants, opening iMessages and clicking on his wife's contact.

He walks out of his office, walking past the giant fire trucks and into one of the little rooms all the guys hang out in. “This is the room you'll be in the most, probably. Guys like Jim just hang out here, watching tv. You know, the guys who don't have a wife or anything.” He jokes, making Jim flip him off. He's one of the oldest firefighters, he and Harry have formed a tight bond throughout all the years they've worked together.

“You've got a wife?!” Harry nods, showing his lockscreen off to Bryan which is a photo of him and Y/n on their wedding day. “Yeah, married for eight years.” Bryan's eyes shoot wide, “How old are you?!” Harry laughs, “I'm almost twenty eight. I got married young.”

Harry closes the door, walking up into a fire truck. “Feel free to look around for a second then I'll show you everything.” Harry clicks back into him and his wife's messages, his thumbs covering over his keyboard as he plans out his messages.

Giving a tour to the new hire, I'll be off soon. Be ready for me, baby 😈

He chuckles at his own message before slipping his phone back into his pants, where it should probably stay until he gets home if he's going to continue to send texts like that.

“You know your way around a truck, right? You worked a county over for two years?” Bryan nods, finding everything himself. Harry knew he didn't have to give him much guidance since he's already worked in the field for a couple years.

After a couple more minutes of talking and finishing out the tour, he says his goodbyes, then heads back home.

He walks into their house, finding it silent with no traces of his wife. He creeps up the stairs, walking into his wife's office without any announcment. “Hi, baby.” He smiles, coming up behind her where she sits and writes. “Hi, H. I didn't know you'd be home so soon.” Harry frowns, kissing the side of her head. He slides his hands onto her shoulders, gently massaging at her muscles he knows are sore from sitting at her desk all day.

“I sent you a text. Hired on a new guy, now I'll have more time with my baby.” He smiles, sliding one of his hands into her tank top. His fingers instantly find her nipple, pinching at it. She squeaks, pushing his hand away. “H!” She grumbles, “I'm trying to write.” He shakes his head, yanking her up and into his arms.

She almost gets whiplash from the sudden movement. His arm is wrapped around her waist tight, pinning her to him. “I don't really care.” He admits, leaning down to kiss her. “Babe,” she whines, and Harry cuts her off again. His mouth hovers over her, teasing her as he bumps his nose against hers. “I really need to write, I have to finish this.” He playfully rolls his eyes, pressing a peck to her lips.

“I can just take you right back there really quickly.” He nods back to her reading chair. “Nothing with you is ever quick, and we both know that.” She pulls at his suspenders, pulling them down so she can kiss him before she turns to start writing again. “So you don't care about your husband?” He jokes, pushing her office chair back in for her despite him just asking for her to ignore her work.

“I care about him very much. You don't care about your wife's career?” Harry wraps his arms around her one last time, giving her a good squeeze and a loud kiss on her neck. “I care about it more than my own. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to start dinner for me and my beautiful wife.” He smiles, smoothing his mustache down, shooting her a wink and walking back out of her office.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

“Good morning, my baby.” Harry mumbles, smiling and wrapping his arms around Y/n. He pulls her closer, kissing over her neck. She giggles sleepily, pushing him away. “Your mustache is tickling me, babe.” He rubs it into her skin, laughing with her.

He sits up, kneeing the mattress as he yanks her legs up. “already?!” She laughs, threading her fingers behind his neck. “I'm trying to make up for lost time! I'm still recovering from those almost two months we went without.” He slides his hand down, quickly sliding his hand up and down his cock to get nice and hard for her before he pushes her little sleep shorts to the side.

“Just be a little gentle, though. We've kinda been going at it.” She softly jokes, whispering as if the bubble around them would pop if she spoke too loud. They're both still enjoying the early morning glow. “Awe, baby.” He pouts, rubbing her cheek with one hand and expertly hovering over her with his other hand in the pillow next to her head. “I don't really care if you're sensitive.” He mumbles, kissing her jaw.

Her mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes out. “Don't open that pretty mouth of yours unless you want me to fill it.” She lets out a shaky breath, closing her eyes to try to calm herself before she cums from his words alone.

He slides in without warning, making her breath get stuck in her throat. “Oh my god!” She clings to him, her nails scratching at his shoulder.

Their headboard slams against the wall as he thrusts in and out of her. Harry grabs onto it, trying to silence it so the neighbors don't complain like they had the week before. That left Y/n embarrassed the rest of the day.

“You're already being so pathetic, baby. C’mon, have a little pride.” He softly laughs in her face, looking at how she's turning into putty beneath him. She turns her head the other way as if it would stop him from hearing her whines. She bites her lip, listening to him and trying to have some pride instead of falling apart the second her husband slides his cock inside of her.

Harry gives up on holding the headboard. He grabs her jaw instead, squishing her cheeks together. “Let me hear you. Haven't been shy for twelve years, baby. Don't start it now.” She lets out a cry, her hips rolling to meet his thrusts. He slips out of her, making her almost choke on air when his leaky tip hits her clit.

“Look what you did. I was fucking you so good until you got too greedy.” She pants, trying to think of any words to say but only gasps for air coming from her lips. “Apologize or I'm not letting you cum.” He slowly, painfully slaps his big, red tip against her clit, smiling as he covers it in precum.

“I'm sorry, H. Fuck, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.” She repeats it over and over again, sliding her hand up and cupping his cheek. He gives her a big, beautiful smile. “Awe, it's okay, my baby. Just don't do it again or I'll have to cum in you and leave you needy.” She nods, pushing his hair back and keeping eye contact with him him while he speaks to her.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes” she whispers, frantically nodding her head.

“Then answer. With words.” He slides back into her, finding his rhythm again after she threw him off.

Harry pushes her sleep shirt up, revealing her perky breasts. He slides his hand across one, squeezing it before he slides his fingers over her nipples. He knows he's teasing her, but he takes his time feeling the silky skin, admiring them before he pulls her nipple into his mouth. He suckles at it, closing his eyes before he bites at the bud. She lets out a pained gasps, but obviously likes it because she clenches around him.

Harry's thrusts grow faster, and the headboard slamming against the wall only gets louder- the canopy style bed didn't help their issue either. Harry moans in her ear, groaning at her name.

“Almost there, baby?” He questions, now rubbing her clit. She nods her head frantically then wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him closer to her. “Just-” her voice breaks, clinging to him. Her back arches into him, her head digging into the pillow. “Fuck, just a little more, babe.”

His hips work overtime while he tries to get both of them to their highs, his arm sandwiched between their bodies while he continues to rub her clit.

“Can I cum in you?” He rushes out between breaths, asking her before he busts inside of her. “Yes, please, H. I need your cum in me. I want it leaking out of me for the rest of the day.” He cums the second that dirty talk falls out of his mouth. He doesn't get to hear her that often, the first time he read her dirty scenes in her book he was taken aback. From then on he's been trying to get her more comfortable using that nasty mouth he didn't know she had in the bedroom.

Y/n follows right after, cumming at the feeling of his hot load inside of her.

Harry collapses on top of her, laughing in the post-sex glow. He kisses the top of her head, almost tempted to go back to sleep. “Oh, my baby.” He groans, rolling over and taking her with him so she's now laying on top of him. “You were so good for me. You always are.” His thumb wipes a tear that is rolling down her cheeks.

“Are you okay? I didn't go too hard, did I? You know I get a little wrapped up sometimes.” She shakes her head then rests it onto his chest to relax. “No, it was just a lot… and you're still inside of me.” His chest rumbles with a laugh, choosing not to respond and instead rub her back as she listens to his heartbeat, falling back to sleep.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

“I'm so happy we get a nice night together, babe. I'm not used to this.” Y/n smiles, walking over to the couch with a large bowl of popcorn in her hands. She sits down on Harry's thick thighs, making herself comfortable as he scrolls through a random streaming service to pick a movie. “I know. I'll take you out next weekend, for an actual date.” He kisses her shoulder, wrapping an arm around her hips and resting his hand onto her exposed thigh.

His fingers absentmindedly trace the lace lining on her shorts. “I don't care what we do. As long as we're together.” Y/n mumbles, holding a piece of buttery popcorn up to Harry's mouth. He grabs it with his tongue, pulling it into his mouth then sucking her finger. She gasps, pulling her finger away from him. “You're so weird! Get a life.” He laughs, wrapping both arms around her and shoving his face into her neck.

“What do you want to watch, baby?” Y/n shrugs, not too focused on finding a movie. She'd rather stay up and talk all night like they used to do when they first got together, and when they had time together more often. “How's work going? Are you relieved you don't have to be on their every beck and call?” Harry nods, pulling her even closer to himself so her back is right against his chest.

“I'm very relieved. How is writing going? Hopefully very well, now that you've found your cure.” He winks with a smile before he reaches into the popcorn bowl. She playfully rolls her eyes, cuddling into him and throwing a blanket across them. “Writing is going well.” She lets out a relaxed sigh, resting her head on top of his. “I'm a little over halfway done, so before I know it it will be out.” Harry smiles, giving her a big squeeze and a tiny shake of excitement.

“I'm so proud of you. I can't believe you've finally made your dreams come true. I remember talking about this when we were teenagers. I'm just so unbelievably proud of you, my baby.” She blushes, looking down. She's completely overwhelmed by his random outburst of pride. “Thank you so much, H. I couldn't have done it without all of your support throughout these past couple years.”

He gives her another squeeze. “Y’know, all of my coworkers' wives have read your book.” Y/n raises her eyebrows. “Good or bad news?” Harry chuckles, rubbing his knuckles against the silky skin of her thigh. “Good. I think it's sweet that the whole world knows our love story.” She lets out a sarcastic laughs. “I wouldn't say the whole wor-” he cuts her off, shaking his head. “No,no. Don't underestimate yourself, my little number one best selling author.”

Y/n blushes again, “thank you, Babe.”

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

Harry is busy getting ready for bed, standing up beside the bed where he lotions his worn hands. He's definitely had a few bad burns through his career, so he tries to take of them now that he's all healed.

Y/n walks out of their closet, tiptoeing over to Harry and standing in front of him, waiting for him to notice. It takes Harry almost a full minute to notice her. He looks her up and down, taking in the sight of his wife dressed in nothing but a light blue teddy. He reaches out, feeling the thin lace material.

He grows a big smirk on his face. “I thought you said you were ‘too sensitive’ because we were ‘going at it’ too often.” He doesn't make eye contact with her at all, just staring at her exposed skin. The lingering doesn't cover up a bit of her with the sheer fabric, especially since she opted out for the matching bra and thong.

Y/n ignores his words, lifting on her tiptoes to kiss him. Harry moans into the kiss, pulling her in and wrapping an arm around her waist. Her hands roam his bare chest before she slides them back, smoothing down his muscled back.

She takes a step away, her eyes rolling down Harry's body. His bulge is nearly busting out of his plaid sleep shorts.

Y/n crawls onto their bed, on her hands and knees as she lowers her chest to the bed and raises her ass into the air, spreading her legs apart for him. Harry smiles, his body buzzing with electricity. He's practically drooling as he reaches out, his hand coming to her ass.

Y/n looks back, “Are you going to take your sweet time?” Harry bites his lip, pinching his eyebrows together. “Speak to me like that again and I'll fuck your mouth till you cant speak.” She smiles, “Put it in, H. Come on.” She wiggles her hips, falling down to her forearms.

Harry slaps her ass, pushing his sleep shorts down so he's in nothing but socks. He knees the bed, yanking her hips and shoving her up the bed so he has more room. “Look at how ready I am for you.” She wiggles her hips yet again, pushing back to try to rub against him. After another beat of silence she huffs. “C’mon, I didn't dress up for you just for you to not fuck me.” He laughs, rolling his eyes.

She flips around, obviously frustrated. “C’mon, H. Don't you want me?” She pulls his hands into hers, placing them on her breasts. “Of course I do. I just want to see how pathetic you can get. You know I love to see my baby beg for me.” He smiles, pushing her back into the bed. He leans down, pulling her into a kiss. She smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck.

His hand snakes down between them, rubbing her pussy. She moans, softly biting at his lip. “You look so pretty, dressing up just for me.” He sits back up, his hands sliding down her body.

“Get back down.” He says, easily flipping her around onto her stomach, yanking her hips up. “Show off that pretty pussy, baby.” She returns to her previous position, back on her knees and forearms.

She wiggles her ass, softly laughing. “I love when you throw me around.” He smirks, kissing her lower back.

Harry savors the sight before he grasps his cock, lining it up with her hole and sliding it. His hand settles on her ass to keep himself somewhat stable. “M’” Harry groans, “I fucking love this pussy.” He slides his hand down her back, grabbing at her hair.

He softly yanks at her hair, making her smile. He pushes it away, giving her scalp a quick scratch with the pads of his fingers.

Her cheek is pressed into the mattress, moaning as he thrusts in and out of her. Harry pushes her hair back starting at her forehead. “My baby looks so pretty when she gets fucked.” She gives him a blissed out smile, fluttering her eyes back open to make eye contact with him.

Her face twists, her brows pulling together as she moans his name, gripping the sheets when he hits her g-spot.

Harry thrusts into her deeper, trying to pull the same noise out of her.

“I'll never get tired of this.” Harry gasps, letting out grunts every time he slams back inside of her that only makes Y/n clench tighter around him.

They hear faint cracking noises, but chose not to say anything as they chalk it up to house settling noises.

“Me either, H. Fuck- I love your cock so much. It feel so good-” she moans, her knuckles turning white as she squeezes onto the sheets. “Good inside of me.” She finally finished her sentence, letting out a big breath of air. Harry's head falls back, his mouth dropped open in pure pleasure.

He lifts a leg up, trying to get deeper inside of her. “Oh, that's good baby. Keep squeezing me.” She listens to him, trying her best to stay clenched around him even though her mind is blank and the only thing she can say is his name over and over again.

Harry pants, “Getting close?” Reaching his hand around to rub her clit.

They hear it before they feel it, a loud crack then they feel the bed completely bust beneath them.

Harry doesn't waste a second, continuing to thrust his hips as if he didn't just break their bed from endless nights of fucking his wife until they were both lulled to sleep.

“Har-” Harry shakes his head, “ignore it baby, I can tell you're almost there.” She obeys him, ignoring their broken bed- that continues to break as he finishes fucking her.

She cums quickly, gasping his name, and Harry soon follows- completely filling her up to the brim with his hot, sticky cum.

They take a second to catch their breath before coming back down to earth.

Harry carefully pulls out of her, placing a kiss on her hip. Y/n turns back, pushing her hair away from her face where stray strands stick to the half dried tears on her cheeks. “You okay?” Harry asks, helping her dry her cheeks.

She nods, letting out a yawn.

They both take in their surroundings, speechless at the state of their once neat bedroom. A lamp from Y/n’s nightstand is knocked over and laying on the floor, while their bed is basically in bits under them.

Harry sighs, sitting up. “Let me assess the damage. I'll see if I can fix it.” He steps down onto the floor, kneeling to see what they did. The slats under the mattress are completely busted and their wooden bed frame is cracked in half. He winces, looking back up at his wife. “Absolutely no saving this, baby. We're going to have to buy a new one.” She softly laughs, preparing to step off.

“No, the lightbulb broke and I don't want you to get splinters.” He pulls her into his arms bridal style. “Off to the guest bedroom.�� Y/n laughs, throwing her arms around Harry's neck.

“Yeah, we'll deal with that tomorrow.”

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

“I completely forgot about this.” Y/n sleepily chuckles while standing in the doorframe of her and Harry's bedroom. Harry looks back, holding a dustpan full of chipped wood. “Yeah, we definitely did a number on it.” He tosses the wood bits into a trash can, bending down to sweep the rest.

Y/n watches his back muscles contort while he pulls up the broken pieces of their headboard. She takes a step closer to him, her hand running over the skin. Harry glances up at her, ignoring it and returning to his work. He quickly does a double take. “You can't be serious?! We just broke our bed?!”

A/N: HIIIIII WOW THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT ON A CURE 🥹 I didn't expect this! Feeling so so thankful and excited everyone is still interested in my writing! Any words you have to say about my writing- big or small, funny or serious (specifically the horny ones are honestly hilarious- shout out to the person who was ovulating and "sliding down their couch") mean the WORLD to me ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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