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otakudragones · 1 month ago

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Bakugo Katsuki

As a boyfriend

• He’s the kind of boyfriend who won’t say “I love you,” but will fight the waiter if your order’s wrong. His love language is: acts of service + passive-aggressive violence.

• If he finds out someone made you cry, he’s already taking his gloves off. “WHO WAS IT? WHERE ARE THEY? DO THEY EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE TO ME?”

• Takes care of you without admitting it. If you’re sick: “I don’t need you dying in my house, so take this medicine and sleep in my bed. And don’t move, dumbass.”

• Gets mad if you don’t ask for help. “What the hell am I here for then, huh? You stubborn idiot.”

• He hates PDA, but looks at you like you’re the sun — and then flat-out denies it.

• Jealous? Oh, definitely. “Who was that, huh? Why’d he smile at you?” You: “The Walmart cashier, Katsuki.”

IMAGINE:

You’re at a party with your friends, and Bakugou hasn’t stopped frowning at you from across the room because you’re dancing without him. When you finally walk over, he says, “What, done trying to get attention or what?” But he takes your hand and doesn’t let go the rest of the night.

As a husband

• The wedding is simple, but he bakes the cake himself (with strawberry filling, because it’s your favorite).

• Says he won’t cry. Cries. Gets embarrassed. Gets mad about crying.

• Makes breakfast for you every morning, even if the toast’s a little burnt.

• He never goes to sleep without making sure you’re okay. Sometimes he gets up just to check if you’re still breathing — just in case.

• Talks to you about money, decisions, the future. He doesn’t run from adulthood. He’s the kind of husband who wants to do things right because you give him your all.

• Gets offended if you don’t lean on him. “What’s the point of having me if you’re gonna carry everything yourself, huh?”

IMAGINE:

You’ve got a headache and are lying on the couch. Bakugou covers you with a blanket, dims the lights, sets water on the table. He doesn’t say much — just strokes your hair and murmurs, “Rest, woman…” like he isn’t completely in love.

As a father

• Overprotective dad to the max. He’s freaking out during labor, but the moment he hears that first cry, something in him shifts. “Oh… This is real now.”

• Teaches his kid to defend themselves from kindergarten. Enrolls them in combat classes before soccer.

• But also: sings lullabies in a whisper, like his voice might break the baby if he gets too loud.

• He’s scared of hurting the baby at first, but soon becomes a pro at changing diapers and carrying without fear.

• Does homework, plays, reads bedtime stories (with full-on villain voices), and gets offended if his kid doesn’t draw him with enough muscles.

• His kid’s first “I love you” leaves him speechless for three minutes. Then he just says, “I love you too,” wiping his eyes.

In general, a relationship with Katsuki is…

• Like dating an emotional grenade who learned how to love gently.

• He doesn’t know how to be tender, but he tries. He tries so hard it hurts from how beautiful it is.

• You argue, but never go to bed angry. He always comes back to say: “I don’t care about being right with the world if I’m not right with you.”

• He has anxiety about not being enough, and you are his safe place. He won’t say it, but you see it in the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not watching.

MINI ONE-SHOT: “Only You”

“Why are you with me?” you ask one night, staring at the ceiling while he strokes your back with one hand.

Katsuki doesn’t answer right away. He breathes. Hesitates. Then says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world:

—“Because you make me want to be a better person… without even asking me to.”

Then, softer, almost afraid:

—“Because you calm me down, damn it. You make me feel like I’m not broken.”

You look at him. And with glossy eyes and a clenched jaw, he just whispers:

—“And if you ever doubt it again, just remember there’s no one else I’d do all of this for… only you.”

Traducción

Como novio

• Es el tipo de novio que no te dice "te amo", pero pelea con el mesero si no trae bien tu orden. Su lenguaje del amor es: servicio + violencia pasiva-agresiva.

• Si se entera de que alguien te hizo llorar, ya está quitándose los guantes. “¿QUIÉN FUE? ��DÓNDE ESTÁ? ¿TIENE IDEA DE QUIÉN ERES TÚ PARA MÍ?”

• Te cuida sin admitirlo. Si estás enfermo: “no necesito que te mueras en mi casa, así que tómate esta medicina y duerme en mi cama. Y no te muevas, pendeja.”

• Se enoja si no le pides ayuda con algo porque “para eso estoy aquí, ¿no? pinche necia”.

• No le gusta el PDA (afecto en público), pero te mira como si fueras el sol y lo niega rotundamente.

• Es celoso. Tipo: “¿y ese quién era, eh? ¿por qué te sonrió?” Tú: “el de Walmart, Katsuki.”

IMAGINA:

"Estás en una fiesta con tus amigos, y Bakugou no ha dejado de hacerte ceño desde la esquina del cuarto porque estás bailando sin él. Cuando te acercas, te dice: ‘qué, ¿ya te cansaste de llamar la atención o qué?’. Pero se deja tomar de la mano y no te suelta por el resto de la noche."

Como esposo

• Su boda es simple, pero el pastel lo horneó él (con relleno de fresa porque sabe que es tu favorito).

• Te dice que no va a llorar. Llora. Le da pena. Se enoja por haber llorado.

• Cada mañana te prepara desayuno aunque se le queme un poco el pan tostado.

• Nunca se va a dormir sin asegurarse de que tú estés bien. A veces se levanta a revisar si respiras, justo en caso.

• Habla contigo de gastos, decisiones y futuro. No huye de la vida adulta. Es el tipo de esposo que quiere hacer las cosas bien porque lo das todo por él.

• Se ofende si no te apoyas en él. “¿Para qué me tienes si vas a cargar sola todo, ah?”

IMAGINA:

Te duele la cabeza y estás acostada en el sillón. Bakugou te tapa, apaga las luces, te pone agua en la mesa. No dice nada, solo te acaricia el cabello y murmura: "descansa, mujer..."como si no estuviera enamoradísimo.

Como padre

• Es papá gallina nivel Dios. Te ayuda en el parto con un susto épico, pero cuando escucha el primer llanto, su cara cambia por completo. “Ah no....Esto va en serio.”

• Enseña a su hijo a defenderse desde el kínder. Lo inscribe a clases de combate antes que a fútbol.

• Pero también: le canta canciones de cuna a lo bajito, como si su voz pudiera romper al bebé si sube de tono.

• Le da miedo lastimar, pero poco a poco se vuelve experto en cambiar pañales y cargar sin miedo.

• Hace tareas, juega, lee cuentos (con voz de villano incluida), y se ofende si su hijo no lo dibuja con suficiente musculatura.

• El primer "te amo" de su hijo lo deja en silencio 3 minutos. Luego solo dice: “yo también te amo”, mientras se limpia los ojos.

En general, una relación con Katsuki es…

• Como salir con una granada emocional que aprendió a amar con cuidado.

• Él no sabe cómo ser tierno, pero lo intenta. Lo intenta tanto que duele de lo hermoso.

• Discuten, pero nunca se acuestan peleados. Siempre regresa a decirte: “no quiero estar bien con el mundo si no estoy bien contigo.”

• Tiene ansiedad por no ser suficiente, y tú eres su refugio. No lo dice, pero se le nota en cómo te mira cuando cree que no estás viendo.

MINI ONE-SHOT: “Solo tú”

—¿Por qué estás conmigo? —preguntas una noche, mientras ves el techo y él acaricia tu espalda con una sola mano.

Katsuki no responde al instante. Respira. Duda. Luego dice, como si fuera obvio:

—Porque me haces querer ser una mejor persona… sin que me lo pidas.

Y después de un segundo añade, más bajo, casi temeroso:

—Porque me calmas, cabrón. Me haces sentir que no estoy roto.

Lo miras. Y él, con los ojos brillosos y la mandíbula apretada, solo te susurra:

—Y si algún día dudas otra vez, solo recuérdate que no hay nadie más con quien haría todo esto… solo tú.

#bnha x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #anime and manga

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viridian-dagger · 2 months ago

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That You Are - 1

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x OC

Rating: Explicit/Mature - 18+ only! Minors DNI

Warnings: sex worker!oc, age gap!, non-explicit discussions of sexual assault and a physical assault, vague descriptions of sex work and injuries, Langdon is straight up mean to her, other people judge her for her line of work, some insults, Abbot is highkey a simp for her, mention of Abbot being a widower. This fic is in part inspired by Pretty Woman which will become more relevant later. Smut in later chapters to come 💕

✨ this is a companion to Residuals by @eureka-its-zico but can be read on its own. Jenn's character Dr. Fullerton is featured in this ✨

word count: 5.3k

Author's Note: listen. i didn't intend to write this but Jenn got in my head and now here we are. i don't think this will be too many chapters, but it also was never supposed to be more than a one-shot so we see how that turned out. lmk your thoughts and if you want to be on the taglist 🖤

-----

She hates the way she can’t force herself to leave the waiting room. The only doctor she’s ever seen there who didn’t treat her like garbage was part of the night shift, and she’s pretty sure that he's long since gone. All she can do now is hope it’s not him who gets saddled with her. He has a way of making her feel worse than a client ever could.

But her face hurts, and she can’t bring herself to stumble back out onto the street without the pill. She knows too many girls who lost everything relying on birth control alone — she won’t let that be her.

Hopefully the nurses won’t ask too many questions, or the doctor believes her when she says the bruises are a few days old; she knows they look bad. She isn’t immune to the stares she’s been getting for the last few hours; mothers with disdain in their eyes as they shield their children’s gaze, the leering stares from men, the pitying looks from girls who think they know the fear she’s been living through. In a way, she's grateful for them. They think she’s just another party girl who trusted the wrong guy on a night out, and in a way they’re right. But while this would be the worst night of their lives, for her it’s just another day late she’ll be on rent.

So she ignores the looks, ignores the pain radiating from underneath her skin, ignores the way her pleasers dig into her toes and have long since gone numb, ignores the black dots that dance in the edges of her vision, and focuses on her rapidly dying phone battery and the crooning in her headphone that she wishes could tune out the man complaining to anyone who would listen about his treatment thus far, or lack thereof.

“Kat Thomas?” The intake nurse calls out, eyes scanning over the waiting room teeming with people, all suffering in different ways. She tries not to flinch at the pity in the intake nurse’s gaze when they make eye contact; she knows she’s seen this nurse before, and her stomach drops. She knows he is an inevitability now — she knows she’s a fool for hoping to see someone else, anyone else.

She holds her head high as she walks toward the doors and the ER nurse who's waiting for her and away from prying eyes, but the click of her heels on the linoleum draws eyes like flame draws a moth, and she regrets ever sitting in the far corner. By the time she reaches the door, a hush has settled on the waiting room and she can feel the discontent stirring.

“So you’ll take some junkie whore but you won’t see me?” A man calls out, and the rage in his voice makes her toe catch on the waxed linoleum. She can see in perfect detail in her mind the way she’s going to be sent sprawling on the floor when her ankle wavers the same moment the nausea hits. But hands under her elbows stop her descent before it can begin.

The ER nurse who caught her has curly brown hair and a softness in his eyes she doesn’t see on many people; he knows what she is, but he doesn’t care. In fact, there’s something she can almost recognize as rage in his eyes when he looks away from her, eyes locking on someone behind her — undoubtedly the man who just called her a whore for all of Pittsburgh to hear — before they slide back to meet her gaze.

“Do you need a wheelchair?” He asks, voice soft. The words die in her throat as she shakes her head before straightening out and pulling her limbs from his grasp. He withdraws without a fight, the small smile on his mouth unwavering as she steps away, toward another nurse standing at the door who wears another tight smile trying to hide pity, and she retreats into the all too familiar bustle of the emergency department.

She can hear his voice again, hard and stern, when the door closes, but the words are muffled by both the plexiglass and the chaos of it all that’s been kept out of view by the waiting room. She wonders if people would complain so much if they could see just how busy it is back here as she follows the nurse back to a room, and she can’t help but scan the faces of every doctor she can find who’s wearing black scrubs. There are four faces she doesn’t know, five really when she sees a woman in black scrubs disappear into a bathroom. But none of them are the one she's dreading, and for a moment she lets herself hope.

The nurse gives her a pitying smile again when they enter the room and gestures to the gurney and the folded hospital gown that’s waiting for her. It almost makes her embarrassed when she realizes the gown will cover more of her than the dress she’s wearing, but she swallows it and gives the nurse a half-smile-half-grimace.

The nurse turns to leave, and the words come out of her without her permission. “I know it’s a long shot,” she rasps, ignoring the way her throat burns and the way it coincides with the downturn of the nurse's mouth, “but is Dr. Abbot here?”

“I'm sorry, but no. He usually works the night shift, and left a few hours ago,” the nurse says softly. “Someone will be by in a minute to check on you,” she trails off, ducking her head to look at the tablet in her hands as she turns, clearly eager to leave if the speed the privacy curtain closes is any indication.

The moment the nurse is gone, she lets herself deflate. Stripping the dress off her body hurts; emotionally and physically. Her joints pull, her skin is raw, and it feels like every nerve ending is on fire. But the state of her dress just makes her sad; the glittery mesh is torn in multiple places, and the white satin is flecked in blood. The whole thing is going to have to go.

Just looking at it makes her feel sick, but she refuses to think about the man who did this to her. She puts the concept of him out of her head and slips the hospital gown on. It chafes the bruises on her throat but she ignores it in favor of tossing her ruined clothing and the holographic platforms on the chair in the corner and making herself comfortable on the gurney. She wouldn't be surprised if it was hours before someone saw her.

-----

If Jack is honest with himself (which he tries to be most of the time) it wasn't the vet patient dying that fucked him up this morning; it started way before that. It had been calling the time of death at 2:39 am on a Jane Doe who had been attacked and all but bled to death in the ambulance on the way in. Because when the call had come through 14 minutes before he had to call it and Bridget told him about the inbound sex worker found on the street, his throat felt like it was closing. Because he knew it could have been her. Because when they rolled her in on the gurney, black hair spread out like ink on the white sheets, blood spilling from her slashed throat, face bruised and swollen so bad she was nearly unrecognizable, he couldn't breathe.

But then he saw it — more the lack of it — Jane Doe didn’t have a tattoo. She had a tattoo of a mermaid in the dead center of her left forearm, a beautiful thing he always wanted to ask her about but never got the chance. The realization it wasn't her had the vice of fear loosening its grip from his chest.

He worked hard to save the girl (even though she wasn't her) and he probably let the effort go on longer than he should have, but the inevitability of her death couldn't be changed. He tried to let go after; let go of the panic that had invaded his senses, let go of the questions lingering in his mind.

But the unease had stuck to him like a fly trap through the rest of the shift. It might not have been her, but damn well could have been.

Losing the vet had just taken him out at the already shaky knees. And he held it together until he knew Robby was about to show up for his shift. Only then did he retreat to the roof. Only then did he let himself feel it all the way.

He knew he wasn't going to jump, not when he had so many unresolved parts. Because more than anything, Jack craves the completion, to get the full image, the satisfaction of all the pieces coming together; it doesn't matter if the outcome is bad, it just needs to be done. And she is unresolved.

So the first thing he does when he walks out of the hospital is call his therapist. Jack talks as he walks through the park, his therapist listens, and when they're done talking, Jack gets in his truck and drives home; the police scanner stays on low.

He started listening to the scanner years ago, wanting to be prepared for anything. Prepared to come in on his day off. Prepared to go in early if he's needed. But it's only recently that he really listens for something. Any mention of a Jane Doe that fits her description, Jack has to see. Has to know if it's her. And thankfully it hasn't been yet.

But he’s afraid it will be soon. His therapist, Walter, keeps telling him to talk to her the next time she comes into the ER. But he also knows he shouldn't, for any number of reasons.

In fact, he has a list of reasons, detailing exactly why he should not speak to her or seek her out for any reason:

1. She's way too young for him, probably with baggage he hasn't the first idea how to deal with

She's younger than he has any right to even look at, younger than he thinks he could ever be comfortable with. And he knows her line of work isn't something people go into easily or with a lot of other options. The thought of her forced into that life unravels something in him that he thought he left in the desert overseas.

2. He's a grown man, with a lot of baggage he still isn't quite sure he knows how to deal with

Jack knows the life he’s lived hasn't been easy; tours and medic training and losing a foot and losing his bride days after she walked down the aisle to marry him. All probably before she was even old enough to drive. Maybe even before she hit puberty.

3. She's a patient (sometimes) and he's her doctor (sometimes)

These go hand in hand, because there are lines he told himself he wouldn't cross, lines he knows he shouldn't cross. And the biggest one was taking advantage of someone who he was duty bound to. Worst of all, it's a position he's seen lesser men take advantage of many times, and Jack has always enjoyed making those men regret it.

4. She could ruin him

Despite all the things that he knows about himself to be true — he's standoffish, borderline suicidal, a workaholic, not quite cold but definitely not warm — the one thing he can't deny is that he’s never been able to do something in half measures. Jack can't do casual, not anymore; he tried after his wife died. He told himself that he couldn't commit to someone again, but the emptiness the one-night stands left haunted him. And he swore off flings after the last one left him bitter and hollow.

5. He would happily let her ruin him if she wanted to

He feels like Odysseus tied to the mast of his ship when it comes to her. And he convinces himself that he’s resisted her pull until the next time she ends up waiting in a patient bay for him. He desperately wants to know her, wants to be pulled into her orbit, wants any part of her she'll give him. And he knows himself; he is already too attached to her. Because he doesn't even know her name (she always comes in with a different one) but it doesn't matter to him.

And he knows he should tell someone, Ellis maybe, or Robby. But he also knows he won't, because he needs to see her. He needs to know she's alright. Because he knows it's a dangerous world out there, especially for a girl in her line of work. Because he’s already lost himself to her. Because the day he goes to ID a Jane Doe and it's her, he's going to shatter.

So he drives home listening to the police scanner and recites his list while he packs away the anxiety and the emotions from the shift and starts ticking off the items on his day off list: he sleeps, he goes grocery shopping, he picks up his package from the post office, he picks up a new book from the library. And he hopes he doesn’t hear about her through the police scanner.

-----

The sound of the curtain being pulling back is what startles her out of her half aware doze; it isn't like anyone can get much sleep in the ER. But the loss of time still confuses her; he must have hit her harder than she remembered. Actually, now that she thinks about it, she can't really remember what happened other than the pain and the fear. But the memories around it — how he got her alone and how she got away from him — are what's missing. The more she thinks about it, the less she can remember even getting to this side of town. PTMC should have been an hour walk at least, and she can't remember making that walk at all.

But she puts that aside as she braces herself for him; the condescending remarks, the accusations, and the threats of getting her arrested for prostitution. She’s taken every insult, every intimidation, every reproach and doesn't say a word. He'll never know what it means to live the life she does and how vastly different it will always be from his world; if not for the fact that he is a man, but also for the choices and opportunities that have been handed to him at every turn.

She tries not to let his words stick too much, but sometimes she can't help but hear his voice in her head, sneering and snide as he walks out the door, gloves snapping, “I can't wait for the day you show up in the morgue instead of my ER.”

It was what she heard rattling in her head when she was losing consciousness under violent hands a few hours ago.

But the relief swamps her all at once when two female doctors walk in, neither of whom she'd ever seen before. One looked younger than her, by five years at least; her eyes widened and she fought to stifle the gasp that tore through her throat when she walked in. The other was the one who disappeared into the bathroom when the nurse walked her through the ER; she was confident, but not cocky, and despite the kind smile on her face, her eyes betrayed her pity.

She didn't want their pity, she was sick of it. For a second, her rage burns bright and hot, but it gets smothered instantly by shame. What right did she have to be angry at them? They could pity her all they liked, maybe she deserves it. She’s broken enough for it today.

“Good morning, Kat. I'm Dr. Fullerton,” the doctor with the kind smile says. “I have a student doctor here with me. Is it okay if she comes in with us?”

She gets tired of watching the shock compound on the student doctor’s face and she turns away from their stares before agreeing half heartedly.

Moving her head was evidently the wrong move as the ringing in her ears comes back just then, and she can barely hear Dr. Fullerton’s question, but she’s been through this enough times to know what the question was.

“I need Plan B,” she mumbles back. She doesn't really care anymore if that's not the answer to the question she asked, only that the sharp ringing starts to subside. Only now the bright, fluorescent lights are making her feel like her head is being bounced off the pavement again.

She hears the muffled sound of satisfaction and agreement, before the wave of pain passes, and Dr. Fullerton’s voice now comes back, “—did you get your injuries?”

That's the question that always makes her cringe; they're never interested in how it actually happened. And even when they are, all it means is that cops are soon to follow. They don't need to know that some guy who was supposed to pay her decided he wanted to get his pleasure for free, and didn't like it when she said no.

She flicks her gaze up to meet Dr. Fullerton’s eyes, pity now stowed away. She doesn't bother looking at the student doctor — she knows exactly what she'll find there. The shrug she gives gets no response, and she finds she can't look this doctor in the eyes and lie. So she looks away, down to her beaten up hands and says, “Took a nasty fall down some stairs.”

“That's one hell of a staircase,” the student doctor fires back, and if it were any other time she would have laughed out loud.

But her ribs scream even as she huffs out the mirthless chuckle, “You're not wrong.”

Dr. Fullerton looks distraught for a second before schooling her expression into something neutral. "Do you mind if I examine some of them? I'm worried about your right eye, especially. It's swelling up pretty good."

The thought of missing a shift sends her reeling. She needs the money, badly. Ivan took her rent money saying she never paid him out for last weekend. If she doesn't have the money by the end of the week, she'll lose her apartment, and being on the street is the one thing she really doesn't need right now.

"Is that going to take a long time? I-I kind of need to get back to work…” she hopes they understand, hopes they see the urgency in her eyes.

Dr. Fullerton looks nauseous as she stares into the middle distance just above her head. It makes her nervous more than it makes her comforted by someone's care; if Dr. Fullerton wants to keep her there, to try and save her from this, she's dooming her to a life worse than what she has now.

It takes a moment for the doctor to find her words before speaking. "It depends if the exam findings indicate anything that appears worrisome. Your wellbeing is important and I'm going to treat it as such."

The simple way Dr. Fullerton says it shocks her all the way to her bones. It's maybe the nicest thing she's heard from a doctor in a while — definitely the nicest from anyone on day shift regardless of the hospital.

But as she watches the doctor’s slow, methodical movements and feels all at once like the feral cat she feeds sometimes outside her apartment. Skittish, wary, ready to strike out and escape. She supposes the image does fit as the doctor's hands move toward her face and she cringes away, expecting the pain.

"I'm going to apply a little pressure," Dr. Fullerton says, pushing her thumbs against her cheekbone first before moving them up towards her nose.

The gasp that escapes her is involuntary but cuts through the silence of the room like a knife, followed by a hiss of pain that makes Dr. Fullerton pull away.

Dr. Fullerton looks actually aggrieved as she sits back in her chair, small frown set on her lips. "I'm going to order a CT to rule out any facial fractures. Have you felt dizzy at all? Any bouts of nausea or vomiting since you...fell?"

She almost laughs; of course she has. The room hasn't stopped spinning since the first slap. Every blow that followed only made it worse. It reminded her of learning ballet as a little girl and getting dizzy when she lost her spot in a turn. But she also knows that telling them means more time in the ER, and she doesn't know if she can afford that. Especially not when she doesn't really know what time it is anymore.

"No,” she says dismissively, but as soon as the lie passes her lips her head throbs and her conviction wavers for a second, “I mean… I get a little dizzy but it's okay. Is the CT going to take a long time?"

Dr. Fullerton looks actually distraught by the idea of her not getting a CT scan and she decides she can try to wait it out as long as possible. But over her shoulder, she sees the one person she's been desperate to avoid since walking into PTMC.

"I'm super curious what your name is today? Val? Eva?" Dr. Langdon’s words land like a slap and she recoils as if he had as well. He leans against the doorframe, arms over his chest with a smug smile and she can feel the threat in his stance. He wants her to know he's caught her and he’s going to make her suffer for it.

"What are you doing?" Dr. Fullerton snaps, voice full of what she can only identify as rage and indignation.

But he isn't phased, he just juts his chin towards her and smiles passively at Dr. Fullerton like he’s about to open her eyes to some unseen truth. And she hates how nervous it makes her. "She's a frequent flyer and has been flagged at multiple other hospitals for drug seeking."

But Dr. Fullerton’s mouth purses in disgust as she glares at Dr. Langdon over her shoulder. "Can I speak with you for a minute?" The doctor’s voice is clipped and angry, and it sends a sick satisfaction curling in her gut. Especially when she sees how it makes him sweat and watches the confidence die in his eyes.

“I'll be right back, Kat, alright?" Dr. Fullerton says, and everyone in the room jumps when she snaps the gloves off her hands; the sound still makes her flinch as Dr. Langdon’s words echo in her head.

"Okay,” she chokes out, ignoring the metallic shing of the curtain and the hiss of the door closing.

The student doctor shifts back and forth from her toes to her heels, looking at anything but her. The girl is pretty in an innocent sort of way, and she knows with near certainty that this doctor has never met someone like her before.

“So, is this your first day?” She asks, trying to break the tension.

“Oh! Uh, yes. It is. I don't think Dr. Fullerton said it but I'm Dr. Javadi,” she says back with a smile, holding her hand out for a shake. She can't help the wry smile that sneaks on her face as Dr. Javadi starts to second guess her attempted pleasantries.

She reaches out to shake the hand offered politely; her grandparents would have rolled in their graves if she snubbed the poor girl's handshake. “If it's not too rude, how old are you?”

Dr. Javadi’s eyes widen in alarm before she cringes and admits, “I’m actually 20.” The look on her face must have betrayed her surprise because Dr. Javadi is quick to follow with, “I swear I finished med school, I am a real doctor. I just-I had a lot of—”

“That’s awesome,” she manages to breathe out, which stops Dr. Javadi in her tracks.

“Wait, really? You think it's cool that I'm a huge nerd who finished med school like 4 years before everyone else?” The doctor chokes out and she smiles.

“Yeah, it's really fucking cool,” she laughs, “I’m older than you and I don't even have my—”

The door hissing open draws her attention away from Dr. Javadi and onto Dr. Fullerton, who's bustling in the room so quickly she almost stumbles into another doctor's back. For a second, she's happy it's not Dr. Langdon.

But that's immediately overshadowed by fear. She's seen this doctor before, not as a patient but around. Dr. Langdon pointed him out to her once, the warning in his tone was clear but the words were lost in the haze of pain from her fractured collarbone.

His eyes go wide as he scans her, and just for a second she sees shock and horror. But he shutters it quickly and steps aside to let Dr. Fullerton back into the room.

She can't deny how scared she is; he’stall and broad, hair salt and peppering at the temples. But his presence looms and steals the words from her mouth in response to Dr. Javadi.

She's instantly back to feeling like a cornered animal, and she knows she probably looks like it to the doctors in the room as well when all three of the doctors softened their postures.

Dr. Fullerton gives her a soft smile, "Kat, this our senior physician, Dr. Robby. I asked for his help during our assessment."

Her eyes cut back to Dr. Robby warily, "Hi," she deadpanned cautiously. She couldn't tell if they were preparing to kick her out or follow through with Dr. Langdon's threat to send her to jail.

Dr. Robby gives her a small smile, tight but lacking pity. "It's just like Dr. Fullerton said; I'm just here to check on you. I also want to apologize on behalf of my resident earlier if anything he said upset you. That's not how we operate here."

It would have been funny if she wasn't so afraid he was lying; Dr. Langdon had been threatening her for months, ever since the first time she'd come in. She waits for the catch, for the caveat, for the hint of a lie. But he simply stares at her, waiting for permission. She nods, but hesitation lingers in her mind.

He approaches her like the scared animal she feels like, hands outstretched toward her. "Can you tell me how this happened?" He asks, gently taking her face in his hands presses on her cheekbones, just as Dr. Fullerton had.

The pressure makes her vision swim and her eyes water and she forces out the words, "I took a nasty fall down some stairs." It barely tastes like a lie when her face feels like it's on fire, pressure moving closer to her nose and forcing a tear to track down her face.

She winces, and surprisingly he stops, but his hands stay hovering slightly over her skin. "Does it hurt when I apply pressure?"

"Yes," she spits out, willing him to stop with her mind.

"On a scale of 1 through 10," he asks, and she fights the urge to snarl at him.

"It hurts but I'll live,” she grits through her teeth, staring him in the eyes.

She barely notices his hands fully leaving her face, fighting against the tears gathering in her lashes, when he takes her arm in his hand, lifting and prodding.

The medical jargon starts flowing between the doctors in the room and she feels like a doll on a shelf; it's a familiar feeling for her. She lays back on the gurney when he directs her to, and lets him press on her stomach.

She finally zones back into the conversation when Dr. Robby starts "—a CT also for chest and abdomen along with an x-ray."

"Why?" Dr. Fullerton and Dr. Javadi ask at the same time.

Dr. Robby gives her a sympathetic smile and moves his hands and presses on a spot that makes her groan in pain.

"That hurts, ya know," she gasps.

Dr. Robby gives her a wry smile, "I know. You're sure you fell down a flight of stairs?"

Defiance rises in her chest and tastes like ash in her mouth as she snaps, "You calling me a liar?"

She stares him down, all the judgement and vitriol and pity filling her like acid. He wants to paint her as a victim, but she's a fucking person and she doesn't have time for this.

"Not calling you a liar," Dr. Fullerton cuts in, voice soft and pleading. "Your injuries unfortunately don't seem to be from falling and landing on concrete."

She almost feels bad for snapping at Dr. Fullerton but Dr. Robby's tone and condescending doubt override her sense, "I fell."

His humourless chuckle makes her want to scream and the disapproving smile that plays on his face fills her with rage. "It's okay if that's how you want to play this," Robby says gently, but the disbelief in his tone bristles. When she doesn't back down, he crosses his arms in front of his chest defensively, shoulders curling inward as he shrugs. "We won't force you to share more than you're ready to, but we just want to make sure you're safe."

Safe, a hilarious concept for her. Especially after she's received more threats from PTMC doctors than any other hospital in the city. "I'm good. Great even" She deadpans, not backing down from his stare.

He sighs and nods, "Okay. Well, you're in good hands with Dr. Fullerton. She's one of our best."

Dr. Fullerton nearly runs out of the room after him when he leaves without a look back in her direction but she stops and looks back, eyes focused on Dr. Javadi who's been doing her best impression of a decorative plant for the last 5 minutes.

"Can you put in the orders for the CT, x-ray Robby suggested, and a urine analysis? Give her tylenol with codeine for pain. If her UA comes back negative for pregnancy, go ahead and put in for Plan B," Dr. Fullerton instructs and barely sees Dr. Javadi's nod before tossing a hasty, “I’ll be right back,” over her shoulder as she passes through the door, following after Dr. Robby.

She and Dr. Javadi sit in silence, letting the moment pass, but she can't help but mumble, "I bet they used to date."

The startled laugh claws out of Dr. Javadi’s throat, but the panicked, half coherent protest just solidifies her opinion. While the young doctor has clearly never considered the idea before, she can always tell. Maybe it's just the line of work she's in that gives her the hint, but the signs that those two were lovers are hard to miss.

“Well, anyway, I'm gonna get you a cup for the UA—I mean the urine analysis—and then get you lined up for CT and x-ray. I'll be back in a minute,” Dr. Javadi smiles nervously.

“Wait,” she calls out, and Dr. Javadi stops in her tracks, eyes wide. "What time is it?”

“Oh, god, yeah, uh it's…” she trails off, pulling up her sleeve to look at her watch, her expensive watch, “Almost 11am.”

She gives the doctor a smile and turns away, giving the out she knows is needed. She decides to wait for the scans, hopefully they don't make her wait too long to take the pill. But as long as she can get out by 4, she can make it.

-----

taglist is open!

#jack abbot x oc #jack abbot fanfic #dr jack abbot #dr abbot x oc #dr abbott #jack abbott #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfiction

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fyrewalkwithmee · 10 months ago

Text

Temptations Pt.2

Early Seasons Spencer x Roommate Reader// NSFW MDNI

I just wanted to thank everyone for all the love on part 1 of this story which was also my first ever Spencer post. It truly means a lot and your comments, reblogs and likes are so encouraging and make me want to write more 🥺❤️

Warnings: SMUT!MDNI!!, Sub!Spencer, Inexperienced!Spencer, Dom!reader, dry humping, palming. Whiny Spence makes me go BARK BARK. Mommy!kink, Light choking, Male and female orgasm.

3.4k WORDS (sorry i got a bit carried away)

Please like, comment, reblog if you enjoy! Im also keen to write more for Spencer so if you have any requests my asks are open :)

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It had been a couple of weeks since the incident with Spencer. You knew that you should have been riddled with guilt and shame after spying on him while he was vulnerable… and joining in, but you didn't. After all, he clearly wanted you and you definitely wanted him so what was there to feel bad about?

That night had exposed Spencer to you in a whole new light and it was getting increasingly hard to be around him. You found your eyes lingering longer on him, your mind concocting sinful visions of his long fingers, pullable hair, creamy skin that was just begging to be marked. In the dead of night, your hands would travel down between your thighs, a puddle of arousal waiting for you as you replayed the sounds of his needy whines and tried your best to imagine the parts of him that have yet to be seen by you. You had spent the last two weeks trying to come up with a plan to get inside his head… and his pants. But you were struggling. Spencer was sensitive and inexperienced and you didn't want to scare him away or embarrass him by being too forward or revealing that you had discovered his dirty little secret.

Luckily for you, there seemed to be some mystic force watching and putting into place the ideal situation for the both of you to finally get what you want.

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“Alright spill, what is up with you tonight?” you asked with a hint of annoyance in your voice as you continued to clean up after dinner. Spencer had been off ever since he came home from the office, being especially quiet and sulky. You could tell something wasn't right when he got like this, you could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he sat through dinner eyebrows furrowed, his mind trying to put puzzle pieces together to resolve whatever was bothering him. Normally it was the case he was working on or some complex scientific concept he had been researching, but tonight felt different. There was an air of hesitancy and frustration that loomed over him like a storm cloud about to burst.

Spencer quickly met your gaze, his brown eyes widening as if he was shocked you had noticed his behaviour, like he hadn't just sat through dinner barely speaking two words.

“N-Nothings wrong. It's just uhh the case we're working on right now.”

Spencer stuttered as he spoke, peering into his lap to fidget with his fingers. God those fingers, what you would do to feel them on your body or slipping in and out of your… Fuck no focus focus focus.

You finished drying the last plate and placed it back into the draw before you leaned both hands against the counter. Your position had you towering over Spencer who was seated on the other side,

“You are so cute when you lie.”

You spoke playfully but couldn't conceal the underlying flirtation in your tone that was dying to come out and play. What you were able to hide was the bitter pang that shot straight through your heart. Not because he was lying to you, but because whatever he was going through he didn't think that he could talk to you about it.

Despite his enormous intelligence, Spencer was sensitive and he let things get to him. You knew how his team could be, picking on him because he was the youngest and less experienced in most areas of life. Despite your raging sexual attraction to the boy you also cared deeply for him and knew that if he didn't talk to you about it he would keep it bottled up.

Spencer looked to you again, he swallowed at the way you loomed over him his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat. His cheeks had taken on a slight rosiness at your comment and you relished in the effect you had on his body, knowing exactly where his mind was probably heading.

He instinctively leaned in closer as he rushed to defend himself,

“W-what! I'm n-not lying.”

You met his challenge by coming even nearer, now face to face with the boy wonder. You couldn't help but admire his beauty being this close, the way his glasses framed his big brown eyes, the sharpness of his reddening cheekbones and the way his pink lips were slightly parted almost welcoming you in.

“You think I can't tell when you're lying Spence? We've lived together for almost a year.”

The nickname made Spencer’s breath catch in his throat, he shifted nervously in his seat suddenly very aware of your close proximity. He tore his eyes from yours fidgeting anxiously, trying to ignore the familiar feeling of arousal bubbling in his stomach.

Spencer prayed that you were oblivious to the fact that being around you often excited him in more ways than one. He also prayed that you would drop the subject as he was sure discussing it with you could only result in his own humiliation. Spencer stood from his position and walked over to the couch partly to hide away from your questions but also to hide the way his pants had begun to tighten in a not-so-subtle way.

“Fine, I lied! I just don't think you can help me out with this one. It's personal and kind of… embarrassing.” He let out a defeated sigh and buried his face in his hands. His attempts to detur you only heightened your curiosity and if his problem had to do with what you thought it did there was no way you were backing down now.

You sat down next to him on the couch and gently pulled away his hands so you could see his face.

“Spencer, you've literally seen me at my worst. How many times have you held my hair while I emptied my guts into the toilet after a night out? Or have to comfort me when I'm a mess after coming home from a bad date?” Or have me weak in the knees while I fuck myself to the sounds of you getting yourself off, “Nothing you say could be any more embarrassing than anything I've done.”

You place a reassuring hand on his thigh, feeling him tense up under your touch, you meet his eyes and spoke smoothly, “Let me help you”.

If Spencer wasn't hard before he certainly was now, having you so close with your hands on his body made his brain go fuzzy and a burning heat had begun to engulf the air around him. As much as he didn't want to tell you what happened, he wanted your attention more, he wanted you to continue dotting over him and talking to him in that gentle affectionate tone. Maybe it was his nerves or the uncomfortable pressure of his cock straining against his briefs but before he knew it he was a blubbering mess trying to explain to you what had occurred earlier that day.

“I-its not really a big deal. It was just at work we got to talking about relationships and sex and everyone had stories to share but when it got to me I didn't know what to say and M-morgan made a joke about how I wouldn't even know how to get a date with a woman let alone please one and I know it was only a joke but I just-”

You gripped the frantic boy’s arms tightly and stroked them soothingly trying to get him to slow down, “Woah woah slow down sweetheart. None of that is true, you shouldn't lis-”

Spencer interrupted you, big puppy dog eyes staring into yours, “The thing is it is true. Not the getting a date aspect, I think I could manage that but when it comes to sex I… I’m not really the most experienced with that type of thing and I’m worried that when I am put in that position I won’t know what to do.”

Spencer's cheeks burned with embarrassment at his admission and he struggled now to meet your eyes. You felt terrible for him and the way his work colleagues teased him but you also couldn't help but think how fucking perfect this all was. This was your chance to finally get a taste of the man who had been destroying your body and mind for far too long.

You sat up straight making yourself tall and turned yourself to face him, “I see” You replied and pretended to be deep in thought before lowering one hand to draw faint patterns on his knee. Spencer's jaw clenched at the gesture, his eyes glued to the spot where your feathered touch roamed.

“Maybe you just need some practice.” You spoke in a sultry tone as your fingers pushed deeper, nails scraping lightly at the skin beneath his pants.

Spencer let out an almost non-existent groan at the pressure, he was absolutely dumbfounded by the situation and shift in your behaviour. There was no way this was happening, no way you were offering what he thought you were. It had to be some kind of sick joke. The boy's voice had risen at least two octaves as he breathlessly replied,

“P-practice? I umm I’m not sure I understand.”

You moved your hand from his knee and gripped his thigh firmly, moving it back and forth, sensually stroking. With your eyes on his lower half, you could clearly see the large tent that had formed under his pants. Your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight, your arousal intensifying rapidly and leaking into your panties. You were so in you thought to yourself a satisfied smirk forming on your lips.

You leaned in and whispered into his ear, “I think you do genius.” your hand slowly crept higher and higher towards his cock, ghosting delicately over his hardness, “I think your body definitely does.”

Spencer let out a delicious whimper, sheepishly bucking his hips up to meet your hand. You chuckled at his eagerness and continued your torture, adding some pressure so you were lightly palming him, “I’m more than happy to help you out Spence, if thats what you want. You need to tell me if you want me to stop.”

Spencer was a mess, replying to your command with a blissful whine. He continued his attempts to push up into your hand needing more friction to relieve the unbearable ache between his thighs. To his dismay, you removed your hand completely from his crotch, instead wrapping it gently around the slender column of his neck.

The way he looked at you in that moment was enough to make you cum on the spot. His innocent big eyes were slightly watery from your teasing, his cheeks a new level of flushed and strands of his dishevelled hair hung loosely over his eyes. He looked at you with so much want, you knew he was putty in your hands. You shifted yourself so you sat in his lap, staring down at the heavenly sight below you,

“I'm gonna need to hear your words, baby. Do you want me to stop or keep going?”

The pressure of your body on his made Spencer squirm beneath you and you could practically feel the way his thickness throbbed against your core. Spencer looked at you with despair in his eyes as he involuntarily bucked up into you and begged,

“P-please don't stop!”

That was all you needed to hear to let the fun begin. You began to grind down with a slow but sturdy rhythm, earning an array of breathy groans from the boy under you. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth and whispered an encouraging “Good boy” into his ear.

Spencer gasped at the nickname, his movements becoming faster and more frantic. Your warm body on his, the dominance of your tone, the realisation that you wanted him. It was all to much. He was grinding into you like a horny teenager, a mixture of moans and broken words falling from his open mouth,

“Fuckk. Ahhh, please, please” his whines were like honey as they melted into the air around you and you couldn't help but let out your own at the way he writhed underneath you. You planted two hands on his chest giving you more leverage to rub back and forth over his clothed hardness as you slowed your pace, the new sensation sent you both into orbit, Spencer shutting his eyes tight with his mouth agape letting out shallow laboured breaths. His big hands went straight to your hips, fingers digging into the supple flesh there as he pushed you into him even harder. You threw your head back taking in the way his large bulge repeatedly bumped perfectly against your sensitive clit.

“Feels so good baby, tell me what you want pretty boy.” you managed to ask through moans.

Spencer's eyes remained shut, completely wrapped up in the pleasure of the moment as he begged, “N-need to feel you. F-feel more of you. Need to kiss you please let me kiss you”

The pathetic tone of his voice as he asked for your permission to kiss was borderline ridiculous, but he had been so good and you'd be lying if you said you weren't dying to feel his wet mouth on yours. You halted your movements climbing off his lap, earning a disappointed whine from the boy. Spencer opened his eyes and peered at you, waiting for your next move. You couldn't believe what a mess he was for you, the FBI’s golden boy absolutely pussy drunk and waiting for your instructions. It was laughable. And the hottest thing you had ever seen.

Spencer's anxious mind started reeling at the loss of contact and he began to fumble an apology thinking he had done something wrong, “I'm sorry, we d-dont have to. I just wanted to-”

You cut him off speaking in an authoritative voice, “clothes off and lie down.”

Spencer looked at you hesitantly for about half a second then hurried to undo his belt and buttons, almost falling over himself in the process. While he worked you did the same, removing everything but your bra and panties which had become practically see-through from the wetness that had soaked through. By the time you were finished, Spencer was already lying nervously on the couch, his hands covering his exposed cock from your view. He spoke awkwardly,

“Umm, I don't have any uhh… protection.”

You let out a condescending laugh as you stalked over to him, kneeling beside his head. You ran a hand through his soft hair,

“Don't worry sweetness, I’m not gonna fuck you tonight. We have plenty of time for that.”

As much as you wanted to fuck his brains out, you were going to take things slow with Spencer and show him all the different ways two people could pleasure each other. He looked at you confused and began to ask what you meant but you cut him off by slamming your lips onto his, earning a surprised yelp from Spencer as your tongue slid into his mouth.

Spencer's kiss was sloppy and filled with need as he gripped your head between his hands and explored your mouth with his tongue. He tasted like peppermint and cinnamon and you found yourself lost in his kisses, falling deeper and deeper into an intoxicated bliss. You could stay with him like this forever, but you knew that there was a more pressing matter that needed to be taken care of. You moved from his lips to his neck sucking and biting every tender spot you could find that made him groan beneath you. You trailed your way down his chest to his abdomen, which was surprisingly toned despite his thinness. You stopped when you reached the place he needed you most, taking in the sight before you.

Spencer's cock was better than you could ever have imagined. He was bigger than you expected and extremely hard, his length pressing straight up against his abdomen. Your mouth watered at the way precum dripped from the top of his aggravated tip and slid down over the veiny thickness of his length. The view put you in a trance and you couldn't help but reach out and wrap your hand around him, stroking him softly and moving your thumb around his swollen tip. Spencer's hips lifted up off the couch as he moaned into your touch, you thought he might cum there and then so you halted your movements squeezing him at the base. Spencer whined desperately, his red tip had begun to turn purple from all the stimulation. Fuck he was so sensitive, so desperate to come that he began moving his hips, fucking himself into your hand as you watched on in awe.

But you didn't want him to cum like this so you removed your hand which didn't stop him from continuing to fuck up into nothing, getting closer and closer to finishing while you straddled him. He stopped moving when he felt your weight on him, he looked wrecked as he looked at you, his eyes glazed over in a dreamy, eager haze. You kept his gaze as you lowered your clothed core down onto the flatness of his length, his slickness only adding to the already-soaked fabric of your panties. You were throbbing at the contact and the friction of his cock sliding through your folds with only the rough cotton of your panties keeping you apart.

“Were you about to cum baby?” You began to move back and forth on top of him, matching his quick movements.

“Yes.. I’m S-so close” he panted suddenly jutting his hips against your slickness.

“Well that's too bad, you only get to c-cum when I say so okay? You spoke through moans as Spencer’s pace increased, a familiar tingly warmth beginning to radiate through your core.

Spencer didn't answer back, too caught up in the feeling of your wetness between his cock which had become drenched in your juices. You leaned down and gripped his throat, a lot rougher than you had the first time, “I asked you a question.” you ordered and Spencer was quick to reply, hips still moving at a frantic pace,

“Yes! Yes Mom-” he whined but stopped himself stuttering to finish, “Only when you say”

He had no time to feel embarrassed at the name he almost called you as he felt his cock twitch signalling that he was close to release. Little did he know that you were already aware of what he wanted and you were more than happy to give it to him.

Spencer's pace began to falter and his nails dug deep into your hips his own bucked wildly underneath you. He sat up a little allowing gravity to pull you down even harder onto him, each time he moved his cock pounded right against your clit creating a rhythm that sent you spiralling closer and closer towards release. All the air was sucked out of the room replaced by a sinful heat as the both of you used each other to get yourselves off.

Spencer whimpered incoherently, mouth hanging open, eyes screwed shut as he begged you to let him finish,

“Plea- fuck - please let me cum, please let me cumahh”

Tears were forming in his eyes as you looked down at his desperate state, wrapping your arms around his neck you pushed your chest into his so you were as close as possible and whispered to him,

“You wanna cum?”

“Yes!” he cried “pleasee”

“Okay cum for me then. Cum for Mommy”

Spencer let out a choked cry as he jutted into you with an animalistic force, holding you tight against him as he cried out,

“Fuck Mommy, gonn- gonna cum. Thank you mommy, Thank you, Thankyo-” His own release interrupted him as he whined loudly into your shoulder hips rocking as thick ropes of cum spurted from his cock onto his abdomen. The sight of his pleasure sent you over the edge too, your orgasm crashing down on you as you rode it out overstimulating Spencer's already leaking cock.

The two of you panted heavily trying to catch your breath, you leaned down and planted a sweet kiss on Spencer’s lips which he gladly accepted. He chuckled underneath you and looked at you with bewilderment,

“I can't believe we just did that.”

You giggled lightly back, running a hair through his messy hair and replied,

“I can't wait to do it again.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid

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urhoneycombwitch · 1 year ago

Note

eddie who's cynical and grumpy only because he hasn't had proper aftercare. most people just roll over or leave when they're done and those that do stay to cuddle, it's Eddie holding them and never the other way around. He doesn't want to admit that it makes him feel dissatisfied afterwards, like the sex wasn't even worth it, because he got laid, that's the point, why complain? But there's just something... missing (and I figure aftercare wasn't as talked about in the 80s so he isn't really too sure what that something is)

Until a night with reader where they have absolutely mind-blowing sex, parting with heavy breaths and as Eddie's heart rate starts to slow back down to normal again, he's waiting for reader to grab their clothes, roll over on their side, something that breaks the connection and makes his heart drop. But they don't, reaching out a weak hand (because they're sluggish waiting for their soul to return to their body) to rub his arm. A gentle back and forth, which feels nice, but Eddie's suspicious. What is this, why are they doing it, and why does it feel good?

And then, "Can I play with your hair?" (from the muse prompt lol) and he's agreeing with a shrug and when reader starts to card their fingers through his curls and massage his scalp, Eddie melts. It's like a whole brain recalibration. His icy heart getting thawed out just because someone made sure to take care of him too. And if reader wakes up earlier in the morning just to ask how he likes his eggs? Eddie's already decided that he's gotta lock them down.

+18 mdni

cw: p in v sex, cockwarming

It’s you tipping over the edge into orgasm, choking his cock with your velvet walls, soft whine spilling from the back of your throat, that takes Eddie with you.

As he comes, he burrows his face into your neck. Your hands reach for his skull to draw him closer, and he unintentionally bites down a bit too hard on the soft skin of your neck.

You let out a gasp, fingers seizing in his hair, and he’s quick to pull his mouth up, kissing and soothing over the spot he’s left with his teeth.

“Shit, sorry, sweetheart,” he pants, the affection slipping out despite himself.

“It’s’okay,” you mumble out in one word, limbs going to putty, hands extricating themselves from his hair.

Eddie rises to his elbows and moves to gingerly pull out but you stop him, fingers flying up to dig into the meat of his biceps.

“Wait, can you- will you just stay in? For a little bit?”

You’re not kidding, he can tell- you’ve got a wounded puppy look that he’s dying to change. Eddie sinks slowly back into you, rotates his hips a bit so you take less of his weight, and settles his head on your collarbone.

A big, dreamy sigh, from you- like you’re perfectly content because of how close Eddie is.

His eyes flutter shut when you begin tracing light lines with the pads of your fingers over his bare back.

“What’cha doin’?” Eddie murmurs into the skin of your sternum.

Up his spine, circling under the curtain of hair against his neck, down the spine again; looping and rhythmic. Your hands don’t slow as you whisper “Lovin’ on you, weirdo. Hush.”

You can feel the well of his dimples against your skin as he smiles.

“Can I play with your hair?” you ask quietly, and before he’s even finished nodding you’ve got both hands winding into his dark locks.

You start gentle, thumbs at his temples, light touches against his scalp, but when your hands find the roots you give a short but hard tug.

The little flash of pain goes straight to his dick, and he bucks into you with a low groan, half filled-out already.

“You gonna give me another pretty mark to look at?” you purr.

Eddie lifts his head from your chest and grazes his teeth into the opposing side of your neck just below your ear, in tandem with a sharp snap of his hips.

He catches your clit beneath his thumb and grins wicked when you moan, pulling up again to look down at you as he says, “Gimme another one of your pretty orgasms and we’ve got a deal.”

#eddie munson x reader #lu’s anons #e.m. thots from lu #thank you anonnnnnn #eddie munson smut

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doiliedaze · 3 months ago

Text

Match Me

Warnings: nothing just fluff and soft kisses

Genre: fluff

A/n: im dyeing my birthday wig and I imagine doing shit like that with my butch so boom this idea was created; hopefully it manifests LMAOOOO

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Vi loved home projects and she especially loves doing them with her girlfriend! So she got a bright idea…

“Babe! Have you seen my wig?” You yell from your shared bedroom as you see the wig missing from its stand. You have a 613, 22 inch wig prepped and ready to be dyed except it’s gone now.

“Yeah it’s on my head!” She yells back and you scurry to the bathroom. Vi sees your things and likes to play in it, she thinks the girly stuff you like is interesting! However she can be quite clumsy and has broken a makeup pallet or two.

When you go to the bathroom it was actually not on her head and on your other wig stand.

“Okay before you say anything I kidnapped your wig because I have to re-fresh my hair and I was thinking what if we had matching hair? It feels kinda stupid to say out loud but I thought it be nice…” she got a bit shy towards the end and her cheeks change to a rose hue. Vi likes to do cutesy couple stuff but she’s always ashamed asking you about it.

“Of course I want to match with you” you lean up and peck her plump lips.

Vi wraps her arms around your waist and kisses you deeper but you pull away before it turns into something more passionate. Which is a common occurrence for you two.

Happily vi set up both of your stations, you prefer the water method when it comes to dyeing weave so vi set everything up by the tub for you. She doesn’t care for gloves when dyeing her own hair whilst you wear two to make sure it doesn’t seep onto your nails.

The silence and occasional giggles when the two of you looked back at the other.

“Can you help me reach my roots cupcake?” She pouts as your wringing the water off the wig. You know she can reach, she just wants your touch.

She sat on the floor in-between your thighs. Her fingers drawing shapes onto your legs and pinching your calves here and there. “Thank you” She whispers, her body almost leaning into yours. “Anytime baby” you whisper back as you massage her scalp.

Vi hasn’t know much comfort let alone a family structure so you aim to make her feel as loved as possible.

You wash the excess dye out her hair and you do the same to the wig.

“Can I install the wig for you?” She says with a small smile, “you may help me style it but install is a no.” You say patting her cheek causing her to pout.

“Why not?”

“Last time you poked several holes in my lace so no!” You bop her nose and you go to move the wig onto the wig stand.

“Can I at least blow dry it?” Your mind goes back to the time she yanked the wig too hard by accident and a rip a little bit out but you push it to the side.

“Uh sure just let my hand guide yours!”

The two of you spent the eve of your birthday, doing hair and talking. This is a bliss the both of you never imagined you’d be in but you’re so grateful to be here.

───────┈ · ·

Dividers- @thecutestgrotto

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout @bambishaven @femme-historian @furrytaesss @milanyas @highnfemme @5seos

#dazeduties #black! reader #vi smau #vi x black reader #vi arcane #butch vi #vi x reader #arcane #arcane au #visdoilie #scared femme writes #x black reader #femme reader #birthday fics #vi comfort fic #dividers by thecutestgrotto

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el0wyn · 2 years ago

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Okay so I had an intense fnaf movie theory

(⚠️SPOILERS FOR THE FNAF MOVIE⚠️)

So starting off, one of the major plot points of the film is that Vanessa is William's Afton's daughter, and that Mike and Abby don't seem to be related to them at all, right?

And there's a theory about the Golden Freddy Spirit BEING an Afton kid. Not just the blonde hair (the actor isn't a natural blonde, it was dyed for his role) but the way the kid seems to react to everything.

He remembers his death. That's a plot point for the other kids, that they don't remember their deaths and the drawings make them believe the Yellow Rabbit is a friend. But he does seem to remember, since he told Mike through a drawing that the Yellow Rabbit killed his brother.

It's uncertain why he doesn't tell the other kids, or why his main goal is getting Abby rather than getting revenge, but it seems he's playing William like a pawn rather than vice versa. It's only when William stabbed his sister Vanessa that he stepped in. And the way William reached out for him in the safe room like he was asking for help almost solidifies it.

Now back to my theory, I'm sure plenty of you have heard the theory that the Schmidts are actually Henry's children, not William's. It would explain why William drove 9 whole hours to kidnap some random kid in Nebraska if the kid wasn't actually random. Maybe a revenge scheme over some company fault.

So my thought is, the family dynamics with the Aftons and Emily's are switched in the games vs the movie.

Game:

Micheal Afton (eldest brother)

C.C Afton (supposedly middle brother)

Elizabeth Afton (supposedly youngest sister)

Charlie Emily (murdered twin)

Sammy Emily (supposedly survived twin)

Movie:

Mike Schmidt (eldest brother)

Garrett Schmidt (middle brother)

Abby Schmidt (youngest sister)

Golden Freddy Spirit (murdered twin)

Vanessa Shelly-Afton (survived twin)

I say twins because young Vanessa looks about the same age as GFS (although we don't know what year the photo was taken).

It feels like swapped dynamics to me. Garrett is a Charlie Emily parallel in their identical deaths, which could make both Mike and Abby Sammy Emily parallels as the surviving siblings. And the way Vanessa parallels Micheal A. (especially in her guilt and need to make up the kid's childhoods), would make GFS both C.C and Elizabeth. Honestly if GFS did have some sort of loyalty/passiveness to William murdering him like I mentioned, it definitely confirms an Elizabeth parallel.

I don't even need to mention how William makes Vanessa help him with his crimes (just like Micheal in the games) or how he plays with her guilt by blaming the mess on her (which suggests he would've blamed her brother's death on her, just like how Micheal feels guilty for C.C's death).

Sammy would probably also feel guilty for Charlie's murder, as that's how Charlie felt in the books when she thought it was Sammy who got taken. That was a situation that wasn't in the surviving sibling's control, just like how Mike couldn't stop Garrett's kidnapping. But GFS's murder could've been a preventable accident that Vanessa felt at blame for, just like Micheal for C.C (and probably Elizabeth).

MATPAT PLS NOTICE ME I THINK I'M ONTO SMT

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baby-yongbok · 1 year ago

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Go, Baby

Boyfriend!Hyunjin x Afab!Reader x Boyfriend!Felix

♡ Genre - Smut ♡ Word Count - 1.2k ♡ Summary - You give your boys a treat for being so amazing. ♡ Warning(S) + A/N - Poly!Hyunlix + This was just something that I wrote one night as I was fighting sleep at 4am. Enjoy! Reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ MDNI ✧ Masterlist ✧

They never had a problem with sharing. In fact, they were happy to have the other to show off to. They really have been the best to you ever since you got together but they've been your real life superheroes over the past couple of months.

Naturally, you wondered how you could thank them for all of their unwavering hard work and passion. You found the answer when you heard them joking about lap dances one night in the kitchen. Why should it be limited to a joke? Let's make it reality.

Three days later you asked them to push the loveseat in your living room directly across from the couch. Felix sat there while Hyunjin made himself comfortable on the sofa. They were confused but intrigued. They wanted to ask questions and Felix almost did, until you turned the music on. It's been five minutes since and they're still hopelessly entranced by you.

"God, look at our baby go." Hyunjin leans forward resting his elbows on his knees. "How is she Felix?"

"She's an angel, I swear it." Felix runs a hand up the curve of your hip. He's a goner as he watches you move, completely hypnotized by the sensual rhythm. There's a hunger in his eyes that you've never seen before. "Baby, why don't you show Hyunjin what you can do."

You slide off of Felix's lap with a smile. Indulging in a swift kiss before your knees hit the floor and you turn to face your other boyfriend. He narrows his eyes at you, keeping your gaze as you crawl over to him. You slither up to plant a kiss on his lips once you reach him. Slipping a bit of tongue into the mix to make him groan.

"You should thank Lixie for sharing, I wasn't done with him yet.”

You crawl into his lap and Hyunjin reluctantly breaks your gaze to meet Felix's, who's gawking at you with lust decorated pupils. "I'll show him how thankful I am later." With a wink, Hyunjin drags his gaze back to you.

You can see the same hunger residing in his gaze as he looks up at you. Like a predator taking in its prey. He's more primal than Felix but you know that the blonde is more likely to bite than the raven haired beauty under you.

"Come on, baby." He lands a light pat on your ass. Indulging in a light squeeze as he moves his hand up your back. "Show me what you got.”

He explores you as you swirl your hips. Slow and calculated movements that encourage you to give him more. The music is a mere echo to you at this point. It's the rhythm of their breathing that you're grinding to. Hurried, desperate, sensual.

“My god, maybe I regret giving her away.” Felix rasps from the other side of the room. He runs his hand through his hair in a desperate attempt to busy himself. If he's not distracted he's more than certain that he'll pounce on you.

“No take backs.” Hyunjin teases, a smile in his tone but absent from his features. He's too busy studying you, taking in the smooth tick of your hips and the way your hands run over the perfect mounds that he's dying to nip at. “Show Felix a little something, baby.”

You immediately oblige, bending over further into Hyunjin so that your breasts press against his chest and your full ass is on display to the groaning blonde behind you. You can't see him but you know that he looks absolutely debauched. Messy blonde locks falling into his face as he pulls at the crotch of his sweats in a desperate attempt to make room for his growing erection.

“Ah, fuck.” Hyunjin hisses, large hands squeezing at your sides while you shake your ass for your boyfriend behind you.

You tick to the music, keeping a steady rhythm despite the relentless dripping of your core. “Love seeing you move like that.” Felix's eyes follow you as you whine. Drawing imaginary circles with what he perceives to be the most perfect ass to ever exist.

“Reverse, baby.” You follow his request with a smile. Whining counterclockwise and throwing in some other moves that you know drive him insane.

“How's the view?” Hyunjin asks.

“Sinful.” Felix groans a reply, leaning back into the loveseat. “C'mere, baby. Come back to me.”

You sit up on Hyunjin’s lap, locking eyes with him and giving him a smile that makes his cock twitch, you can feel it. You make your way to the center of the room and look between your boys. Both disheveled and hungry for more.

They watch as you dip your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts. Popping the fabric against your skin in an effective attempt at teasing them. They watch with bated breath as you untie the string of your shorts. Easing the fabric down your thighs inch by painful inch until they pool around your ankles.

You bend to pick them up, swaying your hips to make sure they both get a good look. “God damn.” Hyunjin rasps with a hand resting over his hardened cock. He rubs at it subtly but it's not enough, you know it.

“Let me have em, baby.” You turn to Felix with glowing eyes taking him in slowly as you stalk towards him. Elegant yet dangerous like a cheetah.

You crawl into his lap, settling quickly as you lace your shorts around the back of his neck like a winter scarf. You use them as leverage to pull him into a sloppy kiss. Giving his mouth the attention you know it's been dying to have. You moan into his mouth and he licks up the sound like his life depends on it.

Desperate hands knead at the flesh of your hips and his heaving chest is pressed firm against yours. He feels so good that you've forgotten to dance and Hyunjin is so quiet that you've forgotten his presence but you know that his eyes are on you.

You know that he's taking in every sound, every slight grind of your hips. He's imagining the twirl of your tongue around Felix's and he's wishing that it was him that was tasting you like that.

You pull away from Felix with a wet smack echoing from your lips. His gaze is more fucked out than hungry now, this is the look that you're familiar with.

“Having fun?” You jump when Hyunjin sounds too close to you. Suddenly you can feel the pressure of his hard cock straining against his sweats in the middle of your back. You don't dare turn around. He thinks that's cute.

His slender fingers wrap around your neck, splaying over the soft skin with a gentle press. He tilts your head back so that your eyes meet his, the crown of your head resting against his stomach.

“Enough of the teasing, yeah?” He presses his cock into you at the same time that Felix grinds up against your cunt. You moan at the pressure, feeling dizzy from the slight pleasure.

“I thought you two liked my dancing.” You smile with the tip of your tongue between your teeth. Usually they like a good tease but it seems that they've reached their limit for today.

“Oh, we love it, baby.” Hyunjin confirms as his free hand tugs at the hem of his sweats.

Felix's lips are hot against the exposed skin of your chest. He tugs at the neckline of your tank top as his teeth nip and mark the flawless skin. He whispers between open mouthed kisses

“Let us show you how much we love it.”

Thank you reading! Please like and share, it makes my day!

ALSO, please follow my back-up acct. @minniee-verse 💕

Perm. Tag List:

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@teddy-stay , @baconcupcakes123, @moonchild9350 ,

@krayzieestay, @soulsbbg , @stay-bi , @yzsqu , @gho-ster , @lghtdarling

(Reply to this post if you'd like to be added to the perm. taglist.)

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crystal-to-bloom · 8 days ago

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Invincible characters react to their first kiss with you ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

𝕊𝕙𝕪!𝕐/𝕟 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕩 𝕊𝕡𝕝𝕠𝕕𝕖; ♡⋆.ೃ࿔*

Rex stood with his arms crossed, watching Y/n talk to Bulletproof. She was smiling just a little, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, answering something shyly — and it made something twist inside him.

He didn’t even know why he was mad. It just irritated him.

Why was she like that with him?

Why not with him?

Loudly — on purpose — he called out:

— Oh, cool. New dynamic duo? Y/n and Mr. Emotionless?

They both turned. Bulletproof just gave a short nod, not getting involved, while Y/n looked down awkwardly.

— What? — she asked softly as she approached Rex.

— Nothing, — he scoffed. — Just wondering if you're gonna be chatting with him all the time now instead of me.

She blinked.

— We were just talking…

— Yeah. I saw. Smiling at him like he's a stand-up comic, not a walking brick wall.

Y/n frowned a little.

— Are you… jealous?

He made a face.

— No. I’ve got eyes, that’s all. I remember when you couldn’t say two words around me — now suddenly you’re Miss Chatterbox with *him*? Feels kinda… weird.

She went quiet, then said softly but seriously:

— With him, it’s just like talking to a friend.

But with you… it’s different.

Rex looked away, scratched the back of his neck.

— Well… good. ’Cause, you know, I’m kinda used to you being my awkward, shy, ridiculously cute Y/n. Not someone who chats up every guy around.

She smiled a little:

— I’m still her.

It’s just… being around you is harder. Because I like you.

He froze for a second, then blurted:

— Damn…

— Was that supposed to be adorable and flustering at the same time?

’Cause, yeah, it worked.

She giggled, leaning her head lightly against his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her casually and muttered:

— Alright, alright… Just no more “buddy-buddy” team-ups, okay?

They stood close — a little closer than friends, a little quieter than usual. Rex was looking at Y/n thoughtfully.

— So… — he said suddenly, — did you ever have someone before me?

She flinched just a little but didn’t look away.

— No… I didn’t.

— No one? — he squinted.

— Mhm. Not even… — her voice dropped. — Not even a kiss.

He froze, then raised his brows and stepped in closer, smirking:

— Hold up. Are you telling me… this — he motioned around her face with his finger and gently nudged her shoulder — this sweet, awkward, horned Y/n — and no one even tried?

Y/n looked down and shrugged:

— I… never really thought about it.

— No way, — he snorted. — What, was everyone blind?

She flushed even deeper, hiding a little in her hoodie collar.

— Ah, I get it now, — he said, drawing it out. — You were saving the moment. For someone… special. Like, I don’t know, some incredibly amazing guy.

He pulled an innocent face, clearly referring to himself. Y/n gave a shy little smile:

— Maybe…

Rex gave a thoughtful hum:

— Well, if that’s the case… I guess I could make the sacrifice.

She looked up at him — surprised, embarrassed. And he was already speaking softer now, with that look that always made her heart beat faster:

— Want me to be your first kiss? Only if you promise not to compare anyone to me afterward. No one’s gonna top it anyway.

Y/n giggled through the blush:

— Cocky much?

He leaned in a little, voice dropping to a playful whisper:

— Mhm. But you’re still saying yes, right?

She nodded.

Rex leaned in and kissed her — slow, gentle, like it wasn’t just a kiss but something a little more. And when he pulled back, he smirked again:

— There. Officially spoiled now.

𝕊𝕙𝕪!𝕐/𝕟 𝕩 𝔼𝕧𝕖 ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄

The rooftop was quiet, bathed in the amber hues of the setting sun. The city buzzed below, distant and unfocused, like background noise in a dream. Up here, it felt like the world had slowed down just for the two of them.

Eve sat with her legs crossed, elbows resting on her knees as she gazed out toward the skyline. Her hair shimmered in the dying light, like it had caught fire in the best way. Y/n sat beside her, close but careful — her hands in her lap, fingers nervously tracing the hem of her sweater.

They had been talking for nearly an hour now. Not about missions. Not about powers. Just… about things. About the little thoughts that filled their heads at night. Favorite songs. Old cartoons. Secret fears. Eve had a way of listening that made you feel seen, and Y/n always found herself saying more than she planned.

Then Eve turned slightly, a playful smile on her lips.

— You’re blushing again.

Y/n looked down quickly, tugging her sleeves over her hands.

— Am I?

— Mhm. You always do that when I look at you too long.

Y/n tried to laugh it off, cheeks now fully warm.

— Maybe I’m just cold?

— Sure, that’s why you turn red like a strawberry.

Eve nudged her gently with her knee, teasing but soft. Y/n peeked up through her lashes, finally letting out a breath.

— It’s not just the way you look at me. It’s… you. You always make me nervous.

Eve blinked, genuinely surprised.

— Me? Why?

— You’re confident. You always know what to say. And you’re beautiful. It’s kind of… a lot, when I’m sitting this close to you.

Eve was quiet for a moment, her smile dimming into something softer.

— That’s funny. Because you’re the one who makes me nervous.

Y/n looked up, eyes wide.

— Wait. Seriously?

— Yeah, seriously. You’re so… genuine. You don’t fake anything. It’s like when I talk to you, I can’t just hide behind all the stuff I usually do. And that’s kinda scary. In a good way.

Y/n blinked fast, heart thudding.

Then she said it. Barely above a whisper.

— I��ve… never kissed anyone before.

The words lingered in the air, delicate and vulnerable. Eve’s eyes searched her face, not for weakness — but for truth. And when she found it, her expression only softened further.

— Never?

Y/n shook her head slowly, tucking her hands under her chin like she could hide in them.

— I always thought I’d know when it was right. But it never was. Until now, maybe.

Eve inched closer, slowly — like she was afraid to break the moment.

— Y/n… would you be okay if… I was your first?

Y/n froze, breath caught in her throat. Then, after a beat, she nodded.

Eve reached up and gently tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, her fingers brushing Y/n’s cheek. The touch was light, reverent. Their eyes met — and held.

When Eve leaned in, she moved slowly, giving Y/n every second to change her mind. But she didn’t. She leaned in too, heart pounding, and when their lips touched, it was like a sigh — soft, unsure, but full of promise.

It wasn’t a dramatic kiss. No fireworks, no rushing. Just warmth. Care. A quiet electricity that pulsed between them like a heartbeat.

When they pulled back, Eve rested her forehead gently against Y/n’s and whispered, her voice a mix of wonder and playfulness:

— Told you. Not so scary.

Y/n smiled, her cheeks still flushed, her eyes shining.

— Only because it was you.

Eve let out a small, breathy laugh and brushed her thumb lightly along Y/n’s knuckles.

— Guess that means I did something right, huh?

— You did everything right.

And for a while, they just sat there — shoulder to shoulder, hearts a little lighter than before, as the sky shifted from gold to deep blue.

𝕊𝕙𝕪!𝕐/𝕟 𝕩 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕪𝕤𝕠𝕟 ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄

The park was nearly empty by the time they reached the quiet path. The wind rustled lazily through dry leaves, and the rare lampposts seemed to breathe light softly, not in a hurry to disturb their solitude.

Y/n sat down on the bench first, tugging the sleeves of her sweater over her fingers. Mark sat beside her, just slightly to the side — that awkward kind of politeness when you want to be close, but you're afraid to scare someone off.

— "Feels like the whole world’s already asleep," he mumbled, staring into the shadows beneath the trees.

— "But we’re not," she replied softly, with a gentle smile.

A bit of silence followed. Then Mark started telling her about how Rex tried to heat up a frozen burrito in the lab microwave and nearly caused a small explosion. Y/n let out a laugh she couldn’t hold back, hiding her mouth with her sleeve, and Mark smiled with relief.

— "I’m glad you came," he said after a pause, scratching the back of his neck. His cheeks were slightly pink, though he tried to hide it by looking away. — "You always kind of… hide a little. But I’m really glad you didn’t hide from me."

Y/n squeezed her fingers together.

— "I do hide," she admitted quietly. — "I’m not like the rest of you. Sometimes it’s easier — to stay quiet. Just to be near."

He turned toward her — and this time, his whole face flushed. Even the tips of his ears and his nose turned pink.

— "But I like when you're near. Even when you’re quiet. Especially then."

She lowered her eyes but didn’t turn her head. Stayed silent just a bit longer than she should have.

— "Can I… say something dumb?"

— "Only if I get to say something dumb too," he replied with a soft smile — and another blush.

She exhaled a little:

— "You would’ve noticed anyway. Even if I never said anything."

— "Noticed what?"

— "That I like you."

He froze, holding his breath for just a second. And when her words fully registered — he flushed instantly and visibly. Cheeks, ears, even his neck.

— "I… me too. For a while now. A lot."

Y/n clutched the hem of her sweater awkwardly.

— "Do you… do you want to kiss me?"

He swallowed, nodded quickly, then exhaled a shaky breath:

— "I do. But only if you do too."

She didn’t say anything — just nodded, barely.

Mark leaned in slowly — carefully, as if he was afraid of breaking something fragile. His lips met hers gently, almost hesitantly. The kiss was light, warm — like breath in the cold. So careful. So honest.

When he pulled back, Y/n still had her eyes closed. Then she whispered, barely audible:

— "That was my first."

Mark froze. Then blushed again — deep and bright.

— "Then I… I hope it was… good. I really tried."

She giggled softly, and he smiled too — calmer now, though still visibly pink.

— "Want to know something dumb?" he asked.

— "Yeah."

— "I wanted to do that ever since… you accidentally froze the door and then apologized to it."

Y/n snorted, clutching at his sleeve.

— "And you still wanted to kiss me after that?"

— "Even more."

She leaned in a bit, resting her cheek against his shoulder. And he, still a little flustered, wrapped an arm around her — careful, like holding a fragile gift.

And that’s how they stayed — in that corner of the park, beneath the quiet glow of the streetlamps. As if the lights themselves were softly blessing the beginning of something new.

𝕊𝕙𝕪!𝕐/𝕟 𝕩 𝔸𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔸𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕟 ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄

They were sitting aboard a small observation shuttle, quietly drifting in orbit above Earth. Through the transparent dome above their heads, the planet glowed in its fragile, blue beauty.

Allen turned to Y/n — his smile was wide, but not cocky. Just… warm. Kind.

– You know, – he said, tilting his head slightly, – you humans have this amazing thing. You give meaning to "firsts."

Y/n looked at him, a little puzzled.

– First meetings. First words. First glances. First kisses...

He paused, then continued a bit softer.

– Where I’m from, it’s more about efficiency. But the longer I spend here, the more I understand – a "first" isn’t just a moment. It’s… a memory. Something you keep.

He looked at her more seriously.

– I don’t want to just be part of your experience. I want to be something… good, if you’ll let me.

Y/n froze, looking at his face, at the kind, slightly sad eyes that suddenly held an entire universe of understanding.

– I… – her voice trembled. – I’ve never…

He nodded gently.

– I know.

Y/n gave a shy smile, her cheeks flushing.

– You don’t have to…

– I don’t have to. I just… want to. But only if you do too.

She was quiet for a long time, looking into his eyes. Then – slowly, but steadily – she nodded:

– Then… okay.

Allen leaned forward carefully, giving her time to change her mind. His hand lightly touched hers — warm, steady. And when their lips met — for a second, for a breath, for forever — she didn’t just feel nervousness… she felt a deep, quiet calm.

He pulled away gently, smiling:

– That’s going to be one of those “firsts” I’ll remember forever too.

Y/n let out a soft laugh through her light daze:

– Even though you’re from another planet?

He winked:

– Especially because I’m from another planet.

Allen pulled back slightly, and there was a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. He cleared his throat like something was caught there and said as casually as he could:

– So, if I understand human customs correctly… now we’re supposed to… eat ice cream?

Y/n blinked, confused:

– What?

– Or… wait… – He frowned in thought. – Watch a movie under a blanket? Or officially declare ourselves in love? Is that… protocol?

Y/n giggled, covering her mouth:

– No, not… I mean, not all at once.

– Aha! Good. Because I’m still not sure when exactly I’m supposed to give you flowers or meet your parents.

He leaned in slightly and whispered:

– I actually prepared a speech. Just in case I had to ask your father for permission to date you.

Y/n nearly choked with laughter:

– What?!

Allen shrugged with mock offense:

– I put effort into it! It included the line: “I respect your daughter and, as a representative of the Coalition of Planets, I humbly request your diplomatic support in the development of our romantic alliance.”

– You’re insane, – she laughed breathlessly.

He nodded with mock seriousness:

– It’s been medically confirmed. I have two hearts. Which means I can be twice as in love.

Y/n blushed, staring at him, and then he grew unexpectedly serious:

– But right now, both are beating for you.

And for just a second, despite all the laughter and awkwardness, her heart beat a little faster too.

𝕊𝕙𝕪!𝕐/𝕟 𝕩 ℝ𝕠𝕓𝕠𝕥 ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄

They sat on the edge of the tech deck, surrounded by the soft hum of machines and dim lighting. It was almost empty here — as if time had slowed down. Y/n kept sneaking glances at him, trying to understand how he felt. Not how he looked — but what he felt like. The texture of his place in the world.

— You look a lot, — he said quietly, not looking directly at her. Just stating it.

Y/n flinched.

— I’m sorry. I just… — she swallowed. — I can’t help thinking that you…

He turned to her slightly, calm and composed:

— Not him. Not one of them. Not Rex.

She gripped the sleeves of her sweater, exhaling through her teeth:

— Yeah. You talk like him… look like him… But you’re not him. And I keep waiting for someone to realize that — besides me.

He was quiet for a long time.

— It matters to me… that you see it.

Y/n looked down, then slowly turned her head toward him.

— Can I ask something weird?

— All of your questions interest me.

— Well… — she hesitated, — what’s it like? Being… you know… real?

He looked at his hand, like he still wasn’t quite used to it.

— Complicated. Unpredictable. Sometimes too… loud. But it’s better than living behind glass.

Y/n blushed a little, but didn’t look away:

— Can I… touch? Just… curious.

He looked slightly surprised, but didn’t pull away.

— You can.

She carefully reached out and touched his wrist, running her fingers along his skin — it was warmer than she expected. Soft. Almost normal. But still… not quite. It felt like touching something that wasn’t supposed to be real, and yet was.

— Amazing, — she whispered. — It’s like… someone built a person out of all these parts, but it still turned into something real.

He smiled faintly — barely noticeable.

— Maybe that’s what a person is.

She stayed still, still holding his hand.

— You’re not like the others. I don’t know how to explain it… but it’s not about the body. It’s about you.

For the first time, he looked a little uncertain. And quietly said:

— Then maybe I don’t have to be afraid of being myself around you.

She was still holding his hand — uncertain, but not letting go. At some point, their fingers intertwined, and Y/n flinched slightly at the unexpected contact. He looked at her slowly, as if considering something.

— You’re trembling, — he said almost in a whisper.

— I… I’m not used to being this… close, — she murmured. — With someone who feels everything so clearly.

He lowered his gaze.

— I’m not used to it either. This… is a new protocol.

She let out a soft chuckle, then quickly covered her mouth, embarrassed. The corners of his lips twitched — almost a smile.

— Would you like me to try something off-protocol? — he asked, looking at her with such quiet intensity it made her chest tighten.

She couldn’t answer right away. She just nodded slightly. Barely.

Robot slowly leaned in — carefully, as if approaching the edge of a cliff. His hand was still in hers. And the moment their faces drew close, Y/n closed her eyes.

And then their lips met.

The kiss was quiet. Hesitant. Not out of fear — but out of newness. As if they were both learning to breathe again. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t long — but it held more than just a touch. It held recognition. An attempt to be honest. Courage.

When he pulled away, she kept her eyes closed for a moment longer. Then she opened them — and for the first time, looked at him differently. Not as someone strange or confusing. But as someone real.

— That was… — she stumbled, but her eyes were glowing, — …very off-protocol.

— Then I’m glad I broke it, — he replied softly.

Y/n laughed — quietly, blushing, full of warmth. And he simply looked at her, as if truly seeing her for the first time — and understanding: yes, he had Rex’s body… but to her, he was becoming himself.

𝕊𝕙𝕪!𝕐/𝕟 𝕩 𝔻𝕦𝕡𝕝𝕚-𝕂𝕒𝕥𝕖 ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄

They sat on the roof of an abandoned building, catching their breath after the fight. The sky was painted in golden-pink shades of sunset, and in the distance, the echoes of battle still lingered. The air smelled of dust, blood, and exhaustion — and yet, it was surprisingly quiet.

Kate stretched, brushing grime off her shoulder.

— Honestly? You were amazing. I saw how you covered for Monster Girl — that was badass.

Y/n smiled shyly, glancing away.

— I just… acted without thinking. Probably just lucky.

Kate turned to her, a bit closer now, her voice softer.

— That wasn’t luck. That was you. Every time, you're getting braver.

Y/n blushed, hugging her knees. But she stole a glance at her friend — a little longer than usual. Kate noticed. Her gaze grew warmer.

— What?

— I just thought… — Y/n whispered, unsure, — you’re beautiful.

Silence hung between them for a moment. Then Kate gave a small chuckle.

— And you’re adorable, you know that?

Y/n let out a tiny squeak and hid her face in her knees.

— I mean it, — Kate added, quieter now. — And… I noticed. The way you look at me.

Y/n tensed, ready to retreat, but Kate leaned in slightly.

— I like it.

Before Y/n could get scared of her own feelings, Kate gently leaned forward. Their lips met — soft, hesitant, but intentional. It was a post-battle kiss. A kiss after everything. Between two people who were already close… but only now brave enough to admit it.

When they pulled away, a quiet cough came from the edge of the rooftop:

— Ahem.

One of Kate’s clones stood by the broken railing.

— Sorry to interrupt, but next time, could you maybe give us, the duplicates, a heads-up before… y’know, that starts?

Y/n turned bright red, covering her face. Kate sighed deeply.

— You’re my clone. Haven’t you learned tact?

— I’m a copy, not a saint. I was on lookout duty… and then this happened. What was I supposed to do, not watch?

Kate rolled her eyes and turned to Y/n with a half-smile.

— Remind me to delete her later.

Y/n laughed softly, hiding her face against Kate’s shoulder. And for the first time all day, her laughter wasn’t nervous — it was warm and full of light.

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celestialgallaghers · 2 months ago

Text

Modern Day Apollo [18+]

hello hello I hope this makes up for my absence. I can't stick to a schedule i guess lol. Anyways, i literally screamed when i saw this request in my inbox and i've been dying to get it out since. i 🤍noel nose.

Summary: In which Noel can’t understand why anyone would want to ride his nose. It’s just a nose really (It’s really not.)

Word count: 6.7k

You’d just come home from a day out with some girlfriends. It was late afternoon, and the flat was quiet save for the gentle strumming of a guitar. You followed the sound until you found yourself leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, silently watching Noel as he played and hummed a tune he was working on.

You loved watching him like this. When he was lost in the music, it was like he drifted into some dreamlike trance. Half here, half somewhere else entirely. It was your favorite version of him. The way he could pluck melodies out of thin air and shape them into something tangible never failed to fascinate you. You could watch him all day if he weren’t so adamant about needing solitude to write. The one time you’d lingered too long, he’d grumbled that he wrote nothing but shit songs that day because his mind had been elsewhere. So now you stuck to sneaking quiet glances whenever you could. Until he inevitably caught you.

He also looked so beautiful when he was creating. His brows pulled together in deep concentration. An expression that always seemed tinged with sadness even though you knew he wasn’t upset. This was his happy place. It was just how he looked when everything was pouring out of him and into the chords.

It took him a few minutes before he noticed you standing there.

“Hullo,” he mumbled, eyes still half distracted. “Didn’t think you’d be back till later.”

You shrugged and walked into the room, flopping down beside him on the couch.

“Wanted a little time to breathe before we head back out tonight,” you said.

His face was still scrunched up, his thoughts clearly still lingering elsewhere, but you reached up and gently smoothed the furrow between his brows with your thumb. His eyes fluttered closed, sighing deeply as the tension melted from his features. He often needed help coming back from that headspace, and you were more than happy to be the one to pull him out.

You let your hand fall away and reached for his. His writing hand. The one worn down by years of playing. Your head came to rest on his shoulder as you gingerly smoothed out the mottled tips. You were taken with the most mundane parts of him. His fingers. His adams apple. The faint streak of grey in his hair. All of it.

He set his guitar aside, slipping his hand from yours only to wrap his arm around your waist and tug you closer. You curled up against him, tucking your body into the space beside his and looped one arm around his middle in a lazy hug.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You let him decompress. His hand stroked your arm absentmindedly, thumb drawing soft circles on your skin.

“Working on something new?” you asked eventually, lifting your head just enough to look at him.

“Mm,” he hummed, noncommittally. His eyes met yours. “Nothin’ really. Bit of a block, I think.”

“Well,” you said, a sly smile tugging at your lips, “I could help give you some inspiration.”

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw.

He huffed a quiet laugh, his hand still resting on your side as you cupped his face, your fingers light on his cheek.

“Yeah?” he said, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice. “I’m very open to suggestions.”

Your thumb drifted from his cheek to his nose, slowly tracing the slope of it up and down. He stilled under your touch, eyes quietly watching you.

“You’ve got a weird fascination with my nose, y’know,” he said after a beat.

You paused, your thumb drifting away with a soft laugh. “No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” he said, grinning now. “You should’ve seen yourself just now. Staring at me like you’re about two seconds away from pushin’ me down to mount it.”

Your cheeks flared with heat. That was exactly something you’d fantasized about. More than once. How he’d figured it out, you had no clue. Maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought.

The longer you stayed quiet, the wider his grin grew.

“That’s it, innit?” he said, voice low and smug. “It turns you on.”

The smug bastard. Your heart pounded like you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to and he was taunting you.

“Maybe,” you mumbled, gaze flicking up to meet his. “Maybe I’ve got a thing for big noses.”

He blinked, something flickering behind his eyes, and then burst into a soft laugh.

“Nah, you’re just takin’ the piss now.”

“M’not,” you said, sitting up a little straighter. “It’s sexy.”

“C’mon, no bird I’ve ever met has found my nose attractive,” he said, the grin softening into something more self deprecating. “They just… tolerate it. One of my flaws.”

“It is not a flaw,” you said, your tone shifting into something more serious. “I think it’s one of the most beautiful things about you.”

His expression faltered, and you watched as a faint pink spread across his cheeks. That subtle flush always caught you off guard. There were still moments, rare ones, when he seemed surprised by your affection. Like he still couldn’t quite believe you meant it.

You reached out, your fingers brushing his cheek, watching him quietly struggle with the compliment. He didn’t look away, but something in his gaze had shifted.

Your hand drifted again, thumb brushing just beneath his eye before trailing back to the bridge of his nose again. He let you. There was something reverent in the way you touched him now. A deep admiration.

“You’re kind of ridiculous,” you whispered, smiling gently. “You’ve got no idea of just how fit you actually are.”

He gave a low chuckle, his eyes flicking away for just a second. “I just don’t get it,” he muttered, trying to shake off the weight of the moment.

You shrugged, still smiling. “You’re a man. Haven’t you ever looked at something and thought, God, I want to fuck that even when it makes no sense?”

He blinked, caught off guard, then let out a surprised bark of laughter. “S’pose I have.”

“Yeah, well, it’s like that,” you said, leaning in a little closer, your voice dipping low. “Except I’m the one looking. And it’s your nose.”

His smile faded slowly as your words settled between you. Something flickered in his eyes. First amusement, then dawning realization. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

“Oh,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” you said, your smirk growing as your tone dipped into teasing. “So I’m not some weirdo. You’ve just got a nose I wanna sit on.”

You reached out again, your thumb drifting toward it with exaggerated reverence. But before you could touch him, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

Your breath caught.

His grip wasn’t rough, but it was firm. Decisive. The kind of grip that said stay there. That something inside him had tipped.

Your pulse stuttered at the shift. His eyes were locked on yours now, darker. He stared at you like he was seeing something new. Like he was deciding something in real time.

“Noel—” you started, the word barely out before he was on you. Surging forward to kiss you like he couldn’t hold it back another second.

You gasped softly into the kiss, momentarily caught off guard, but your body responded instantly. Your free hand slid behind his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you kissed him back. His grip on your wrist tightened just slightly, as if squeezing it would convey his sudden need.

His tongue brushed yours and the kiss turned messier, more urgent. He guided you back until you were sinking into the couch cushions. His body hovered over yours, weight pressing you down just enough to make your head spin. Your wrist remained pinned, now stretched above you.

He pulled back slightly, forehead resting against yours, both of you panting.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “You can’t just say things like that and expect no reaction.”

“Why not?” you whispered, smiling against his lips. “You clearly love it.”

A low, broken sound escaped him, and then his mouth was on yours again. His teeth caught your bottom lip and when you whimpered, he soothed the sting with his tongue.

You tried to shift your pinned hand, needing to touch him, but he only pressed it further into the cushion, his grip unrelenting. That restraint, the quiet dominance of it, only stoked the fire in your gut.

You hooked your leg around his waist and pulled him flush against you, desperate for friction, for pressure, for him. He groaned into your mouth, grinding down against you in return. The rough drag of his jeans against yours made your whole body spark.

His mouth dropped to your neck, stubble scraping your skin in the most delicious way. He found the spot just beneath your ear and bit down, then soothed the sting with his tongue, sending a violent shiver racing down your spine.

The sounds falling from both of you were raw now. Unfiltered, desperate, and real.

His lips found yours again and his hips rolled into yours with slow, devastating pressure. You were already pulsing with need, aching for him.

And then he pulled back suddenly, like he’d remembered something too late.

“Christ,” he gasped. “We’re gettin’ carried away.”

“What’s wrong with that?” you asked, voice rough. Your legs were still around him and you didn’t want to let go anytime soon.

He let out a strained laugh, dropping his head to the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Nothin’ wrong with it,” he said hoarsely. “Just… if we really start, I won’t be able to stop. And we’ve gotta be somewhere in an hour.”

“I can be quick,” you offered.

“I can’t,” he said, and it came out low. Honest.

You groaned, head falling back against the couch, frustration simmering just beneath your skin.

“Fine,” you said, exhaling hard and dropping your legs. “But you owe me.”

His grip on your wrist finally eased, and your hand shot straight to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft mess at the nape of his neck.

“Oh, trust me,” he said, that glint of mischief returning despite the tightness in his voice. “If I had it my way, I’d throw you over my shoulder and toss you onto the bed. But I’m trying to be a responsible adult here and it’s a bit hard.”

“Yeah it is,” you said suggestively, your hips shifting slightly against him.

He froze and groaned low in his throat, his whole body tensing. “Don’t,” he warned, voice strained. “M’ serious.”

A shiver ran up your spine at the rough edge in his voice. You could feel him trying to reel himself back in, every inch of him buzzing with restraint. And something about the way he was holding himself back for you, for this night, for the promise of later, made your breath catch.

“Just… gimme a minute,” he murmured, and let his full weight sink onto you.

His forehead dropped to your shoulder, eyes shut, breath hot against your collarbone. His chest heaved against yours, his heart still racing under the thin fabric of his shirt.

You bit the inside of your cheek, doing your best to stay still and not squirm beneath him. God, the weight of him, solid and warm, was a comfort. You tried to focus on that instead of how the heat was making your already aching body throb harder.

He was right, you supposed. Showing up to a high profile event radiating “we just fucked on the couch” energy wasn’t exactly the smartest idea.

Your hand drifted from his hair to his back, fingertips trailing mindless patterns across the fabric of his shirt. You listened to the steadying rhythm of his heart, matching your breath to his.

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were clearer, but still tinged with lust. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, lingering longer than necessary, like it was hard to pull away.

“You’re such a tease,” he whispered against your mouth, voice thick with amusement and longing.

“I didn’t do anything,” you said, raising your brows.

He looked at you, skeptical and still breathless. “You knew exactly what saying that would do to me.”

You smiled innocently. “Just answering your question.”

He groaned, rolling off you with a heavy exhale and a muttered curse. You heard the shower turn on and stayed there for a little longer, basking in the warmth of the moment.

Eventually, you peeled yourself off the couch and wandered into the bedroom, still feeling the phantom weight of him pressed against you. You stood in front of the closet for a moment before settling on a backless dress with a slit up the side. It wasn’t like you were deliberately trying to make him regret his decision, but you sure as hell weren’t going to make it easy either.

When you stepped out, Noel looked up and froze.

His gaze dragged over you slowly, jaw visibly tightening. His eyes dropped to the open curve of your back, lingered, then flicked up to your face. There was something wild and barely contained swimming in his eyes. He looked like he was two seconds away from tearing the dress off and saying fuck it to the rest of the night.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “You tryin’ to kill me?”

You tilted your head, giving him your most innocent look. “This? I just wanted to look nice.”

His nostrils flared. He was trying to stay composed, but you could see the effort it took. After a long pause, he dragged a hand down his face, muttering to himself as he grabbed his jacket.

“You’re pushin’ it,” he said, voice rough.

Flashes of cameras greeted you the moment you arrived. You posed together, his hand resting low on your back, fingers brushing bare skin. Every lazy pass of his thumb felt like a tease, igniting sparks just beneath the surface.

And to make matters worse, he looked good. The black suit hugged him just right, his spicy, woody cologne clinging to the heat of his neck. Top button undone, chest just visible.

It wasn’t fair.

“Stop it,” you muttered under your breath, trying to keep your expression pleasant as your body reacted to his touch.

“You started this the moment you put on that dress,” he replied easily, voice low and infuriatingly smug.

You flashed a smile for another photo, even as warmth pooled between your thighs. Great. Fantastic.

Eventually you made it to your table, surrounded by the usual buzz of conversation and clinking glasses. Noel sat beside you, arm draped casually around the back of your chair, acting like the brushes of his fingers against the nape of your neck were natural. Like he didn’t know what he was doing.

But he knew.

You tried to focus. Really, you did. But the fancy wine didn’t help. Sweet, rich, and far too smooth, it warmed your throat and slid straight to your core. You crossed your legs tightly beneath the table, pressing your thighs together in a weak attempt to soothe the ache growing there.

Noel noticed instantly. Because of course he did.

He gave your shoulder a brief, knowing squeeze, then slid his arm away. You exhaled slowly, grateful for a moment of reprieve.

Or so you thought.

Later in the evening, you turned toward him, pretending to be engaged in the conversation. He was mid story, gesturing animatedly, his voice magnetic as always. Everyone was drawn in. So were you, but not by his words.

He’d shaved before you left. And while you usually liked the stubble, the clean lines tonight only emphasized the sharp cut of his jaw, the strong column of his neck. You watched the way the veins and tendons moved when he spoke, the bob of his Adam’s apple when he laughed. Your brain, unhelpfully, supplied an image of you biting down beneath his collarbone. Marking him somewhere only you’d see.

And then there was his nose. The damn thing that had landed you in this state. That sharp arch, the beautiful angle of it. You were staring again, thinking about how it’d feel to grind against it, wondering if he’d even let you, when he turned.

“Right?” he said, eyes locking onto yours.

You blinked. The conversation had clearly looped back to you. There were several pairs of eyes on you, waiting for a reply.

“Uh—yeah. Definitely,” you said quickly, nodding and smiling a bit too brightly.

Your cheeks, already flushed, burned hotter as you realized you'd been caught. Noel’s eyes lingered on you, his gaze heavy, before he looked away and continued like nothing had happened.

You sat up straighter, trying to pull yourself together. Be normal. Be composed.

But then you felt it. His hand, sliding onto your knee beneath the table.

You froze.

His palm was hot against your bare skin, fingers splayed wide. His thumb started moving in slow, lazy circles, like he had all the time in the world. Your breath hitched slightly as you tried to shift your leg out of reach.

But he didn’t let you.

He simply adjusted with you. Kept his hand firm. Then, with unbearable slowness, he started uncrossing your legs inch by inch.

There was no urgency in it. No breaking of the rhythm in his voice. Never so much as blinking. He remained infuriatingly calm, still laughing, acting like he wasn’t setting your entire body on fire.

By the time your knees were parted completely, his hand had crept higher. Just barely. Hot and heavy at the top of your thigh, fingertips featherlight. He knew how sensitive you were there. He just wanted to remind you of it without ever fully touching you.

You inhaled sharply and tried, weakly, to cross your legs again. But he simply pulled it right back with a gentle squeeze.

It was a warning. Like he was trying to make you regret your decision of wearing this dress with such easy access.

Your whole body tensed, breath gone shallow. You stared down at your plate, trying to hold it together, to not flinch at every brush of his thumb. He hadn’t even looked at you. He just kept talking, kept smiling like he wasn’t unraveling you in front of an audience.

Then, like he could sense you’d just barely caught your breath, his thumb started to move again.

Higher.

Slow, deliberate strokes against the inside of your thigh, each one drifting a little closer to where you were aching the most. Barely there, maddening in their softness. You clenched your jaw, trying to focus on a conversation you weren’t a part of anymore. Not really. Not with the way your body had gone tight and hot, your breath stuck somewhere between your lungs and throat.

And still his thumb kept moving. Up. Then down again. Then back up, just a little farther.

You shifted slightly in your seat, thighs twitching beneath the table. It was instinct. But he took it as an invitation.

His thumb brushed higher again, this time grazing just above where the slit of your dress stopped. Skin that hadn’t been touched yet now felt like it was sparking. He stayed there. Not moving. Just resting there.

You finally glanced over at him. He wasn’t even looking at you, but the smirk curling on the edge of his mouth told you everything you needed to know.

By the time you were finally leaving, the dull throb between your legs had become a steady, insistent ache—slick, swollen, and unbearable. You could barely walk straight in your heels, your thighs brushing just right, or perhaps wrong, with every step. It was almost humiliating how desperate you felt.

The second you stepped through the front door, you kicked your heels off. You made your way to the bedroom in a daze, hands reaching up to remove your earrings on instinct. You paused in front of the mirror, catching your own reflection. Cheeks flushed, eyes glassy, lips parted. You looked like you’d already been fucked

You didn’t hear him come in, but you felt him. His presence was palpable. And then there he was behind you in the mirror, silent and already smirking. His arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you firmly against him. He dipped his head to your shoulder, sweeping your hair aside before pressing a slow kiss to the exposed skin of your neck.

“You looked absolutely stunning tonight, love,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. His lips lingered, barely grazing your pulse, sending goosebumps down your arms.

You leaned back against his chest, letting out a long sigh. “You looked even better,” you whispered. “Even if you were being a menace. Couldn’t focus on anything.”

A soft laugh ghosted against your neck. “Just payback for this dress,” he muttered, his fingers tugging at the fabric. “Wanted to throw you down on that table and fuck you right there.”

A bolt of heat hit you low, and your thighs clenched automatically. You felt almost dizzy.

You swallowed hard. “Well… that’d be quite the headline, wouldn’t it?”

He chuckled, dark and low, the sound vibrating through your back and settling deep in your spine. He pressed his hips into you then, just enough to feel him, already straining through his trousers. Your body responded immediately, pressing back to meet him, and the sound he made was wrecked.

Then his voice dropped, spilling directly into your ear.

“Did you really mean what you said earlier?”

You knew exactly what he meant, but you played dumb anyway. “About?”

“Fucking yourself,” he said, hips rolling against you, “with my nose.”

Your whole body tensed, breath catching. He sounded like he’d been torturing himself with the image all night, every word dragging against his throat like it hurt to say out loud.

You felt him throb against you, solid and needy. “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice just a whisper. “Was thinking about it all night.”

His response was immediate, a sharp, low groan that punched from his chest. He spun you around, hands gripping your waist as he lifted you onto the vanity in one swift, urgent motion. His mouth was on yours in the next breath, desperate and unrestrained.

His hands pushed your dress up your hips roughly, spreading your thighs and slotting himself against you. His tongue sliding against yours hotly as he ground against you.

You locked your legs around him, heels digging into the small of his back. The friction hit perfectly, and a moan slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, finally getting some friction after hours of teasing. Your body was so ready, so soaked it almost hurt. You pulled him closer, biting at his bottom lip, and the way he jerked his hips in response made the mirror behind you rattle in its frame.

He pulled back just enough to breathe, forehead resting against yours, panting.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Need you so bad.”

His grip on your hips tightened, and he lifted you, tossing you down onto the bed. You landed with a gasp, chest heaving as you looked up at him.

He just stood there for a moment, devouring you with his eyes. His shirt was rumpled, his hair a mess from your hands. He looked wild.

“Take it off,” he said, nodding to your dress.

You pushed yourself up slowly, eyes locked on his. “Why don’t you take it off for me?”

You stood, turning around. He stepped forward, hands gliding up your back, fingers dancing along your spine. He reached the nape of your neck, gently moved your hair aside again, and slipped the dress off your shoulders. The fabric fell to the floor, pooling at your feet, leaving you topless in just your underwear.

You turned your head slightly over your shoulder. “Your turn.”

You backed up and sat on the edge of the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows. Slowly, you parted your legs, letting him see just how soaked you were through the last bit of fabric on your body.

Noel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, eyes locked between your legs. You smirked, the power shift making your pulse pound. Slowly, you brought one hand up and rolled your nipple between your fingers, your gaze fixed on him.

The broken sound that escaped him was pure filth. He stripped in seconds, fast and clumsy, like he couldn’t get his clothes off fast enough.

And then he was on you.

He crawled over you, mouth capturing yours instantly. You pulled him closer with greedy fingers tangled in his hair, moaning into his mouth and arching into his body. One of his hands slid down between you, into your underwear, and you gasped when his fingers found you.

“Christ,” he groaned into your mouth. “You’re fucking soaked.”

He teased you for a few maddening seconds, just enough to make your hips buck up into his hand, before dragging your underwear down in one rough motion. Then he pressed himself against you, grinding his cock against your core through the thin barrier of his boxers. The heat, the pressure. It was almost too much.

You let your head fall back, overwhelmed. “So good,” you babbled, leg wrapping around his waist to keep him close. “Feels so fucking good.”

He moaned into your neck, his voice barely a whisper. “I know what’s better.” His teeth scraped your skin. Then he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes heavy with need.

“Ride my face.”

You froze.

Every nerve in your body lit up. Your breath caught in your throat, skin suddenly prickling all over.

“I want it so bad,” he whispered, kissing a path down your chest. “Wanna feel your thighs around my face. Want you to use me to get yourself off.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs. You could feel how hard he was, straining against you, but he didn’t care. This wasn’t about him. This was for you.

“Please,” he whispered again, almost begging. “Can’t stop thinking about it. Please, darling…”

You sat up slowly, pushing at his shoulders until you were both upright. Now face to face, you could see it all. The wreckage in his expression, the raw hunger. He looked devastated with want.

You nodded breathlessly.

He didn’t waste a second. He peeled away from you and moved to the head of the bed, yanking pillows into place. He laid back, flushed and panting, eyes wild with anticipation.

You sat back on your heels, just watching him. He was a vision. Beautifully undone. Then your eyes dropped lower. He adjusted himself in his boxers, tugging the waistband down just enough to let his cock spring free, hard and glistening, leaking against his stomach.

Fuck.

You crawled toward him slowly, the air heavy between you. It felt like you were entering new territory, Uncharted and dangerous.

When you hovered above him, your knees on either side of his head, you paused. Just for a moment. Because he looked like a dream laid out, mouth parted and waiting.

“Come on,” he said, voice thick. “I’m dyin’ to taste you.”

Your whole body clenched.

You braced your hands on the wall above the bed, thighs trembling as you slowly lowered yourself toward his face. Noel’s hands shot up immediately, grabbing at the backs of your thighs, fingers digging in.

Then his mouth met you and you cried out.

His tongue slid through your folds, slow and filthy, and he groaned the second he tasted you, the sound vibrating right through your core. His grip tightened, holding you steady as his tongue worked deeper, wetter, more desperate.

He pulled back for just a second, lips slick and red. “Taste so fuckin’ good,” he muttered, almost reverent.

Your thighs shook around his head. “Noel—”

He groaned at the sounds of his name leaving your lips and dove back in. His tongue flattened against your clit then wrapped his lips around it, sucking gently. Your breath hitched. A whimper escaped. You rocked forward instinctively, trying to chase the pressure, the friction.

“I—fuck—Noel, can I—” you gasped, hips twitching.

He nodded frantically, pulling back just enough to rasp out, “Yeah. Do it, love. Use my face. I want it. Want you—fuckin’ need you.”

His pupils were huge, his face flushed and glistening, his mouth open and hungry. He looked ruined.

You hesitated, heart pounding. Then you shifted your hips forward and slowly sank down, pressing yourself onto the bridge of his nose.

The pressure. The way his mouth and nose slotted perfectly against you, your clit grinding against the slope of his face. It sent shockwaves through your body.

You worried for half a second that you might actually suffocate him. But then he groaned and pushed up into you, burying his face deeper.

“S’posed to ride me, love,” he mumbled, voice muffled beneath you. “Come on.”

You lost the last of your breath.

You braced against the wall and gave in completely, hips rolling forward. Slowly at first, testing the rhythm, grinding down over his mouth and nose. And when you hit just the right spot, a moan tore from your throat, deep and raw.

Noel hummed beneath you in satisfaction. Licking and sucking as you rode him, your thighs trembling against his cheeks. The sensation was intense. His nose pressing perfectly against your clit, sending sparks up your spine every time your hips rocked forward.

You braced against the wall and rode him in earnest now, moaning openly. Your thighs trembled around his head, pleasure blooming white hot in your gut.

“Fuck—you feel so good,” you gasped out, eyes squeezed shut. “Knew it—knew you’d feel like this fucking knew it.”

He moaned into you again, that beautiful, broken sound, and you looked down at him, just to see.

It nearly finished you.

His eyes were shut, brows drawn tight in concentration, face soaked with you. Lips swollen, chin dripping, jaw flexing with the effort of holding still while you used him. He looked fucked out. Completely lost in it, in you.

You cried out as the heat built fast, bright and sharp and impossible. Your whole body buzzed with it, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter.

“Fuck—so close—” you whimpered, hips stuttering.

But he knew exactly what you needed.

He tilted his head just right, lips sealing around your clit, sucking hard. Tongue flicking fast, precise, perfect.

That was it.

Your scream punched the air out of your lungs as your orgasm ripped through you, brutal and white hot. Your entire body spasmed, jerking against his mouth, the stars behind your eyelids exploding. You moaned his name over and over, thighs quaking around his head, hips grinding down instinctively, desperate for every last wave.

As you finally stilled, you barely managed to lift yourself off him. You collapsed beside him in a boneless heap, chest heaving, legs shaking uncontrollably.

Your muscles sagged with relief, your limbs tingling in the aftermath, your body still trembling with the echoes of your orgasm. Every nerve ending felt singed, vibrating. Your back ached faintly from how long you'd held yourself up, but even that felt good. Earned. Like a reminder of what you'd just given and taken.

Your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as you finally opened your eyes.

Noel was watching you.

His face was wrecked. Lips swollen and red, cheeks flushed, eyes half lidded and dazed. And he was absolutely glistening, slick with you, his mouth and chin shining with the evidence of how thoroughly he’d devoured you. The sight of it made a shiver race through your spine.

He blinked slowly, like he was still catching up to what had just happened, his brain fogged by lust and awe.

You gave him a lazy, satisfied smile, the best you could manage in your fucked out haze. Just that tiny expression made his jaw clench.

Then he shifted.

Your gaze followed the motion and there it was. His cock, still rock hard and angry with neglect, the tip still peaking out his boxers. His hand had moved down, fingers grasping around the base but not stroking.

Your stomach twisted with hunger all over again. You were exhausted, legs still trembling, but if you had one more ounce of more energy, you’d have already climbed back on top of him and let him fuck the soul out of you.

“Take those off,” you said slowly.

He exhaled shakily before moving. His hands scrambled, fumbling in his urgency. He shoved his boxers down and kicked them off in one frantic motion.

And then fuck.

You nearly moaned just looking at him.

His cock stood thick and flushed, the head dark and glistening, twitching with every beat of his heart. Precome smeared across his length, and the way his fingers curled around the base again, tight and needy, made your breath hitch. He looked like he was about to fall apart.

“Please,” he whispered, voice wrecked, hips twitching forward ever so slightly. “Please, love… I need you—need to be inside you, need you so fucking bad, please—”

You licked your lips, already spiraling again. But then an idea hit you.

“Nuh uh,” you murmured. “Wanna watch you. Wanna see you get yourself off. Want you to come on my face like I just did on yours.”

A strangled moan left him. Like your words physically hit him.

He nodded fast and moved without hesitation, rising to his knees over you. His thighs bracketed your stomach, the heat of him radiating down on you. His cock loomed above you, swollen and heavy, so close you could taste it in the air.

You were getting the front row seat to something sacred.

Noel’s hand wrapped around his length again, a shudder running down his spine as he started to move. He wiped the wetness from his face, your wetness, and used it to slick himself up, groaning at the contact. He started slow. Languid strokes that made his stomach tighten and his jaw slack with pleasure. His head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut, mouth open in a soundless moan.

Your breath caught in your throat, heart already pounding again. He was gorgeous like this. Completely uninhibited, letting himself unravel for you, because of you.

His hand sped up, desperate now. His hips began to thrust subtly into his fist, chasing friction. The only sounds in the room were his ragged breathing, the slick sound of his fist moving over his cock, and the occasional, broken curse.

You knew he was close. He was shaking.

Your mouth parted, gaze locked on his flushed face. “That’s it,” you breathed. “Come on my face, Noel. I need it need to taste you. Want it so bad.”

His eyes snapped open.

That look, undone and wild with lust, was the last thing you saw before he shattered.

He cried out, a high pitched sound pulled from somewhere deep. His cock twitched in his grip and then he came, hot and heavy, thick ropes of it painting your face, your mouth, your chin.

You moaned, tongue out, catching as much of him as you could.

When he finally slowed, he looked down at the mess he’d made. His breath caught in his throat. Awe flickered across his face.

You stuck your tongue out, showing him what had landed inside your mouth, and then swallowed.

His cock twitched again.

Noel reached out with a shaking hand, dragging two fingers through the come on your cheek, watching you closely as you licked it clean. You sucked his fingers into your mouth without breaking eye contact, moaning softly around them.

He flinched, breath catching in his throat. You just smiled, releasing his fingers with a wet pop.

Then you reached up, grabbed his arm, and dragged him down beside you, needing to feel his skin. He came willingly, boneless and trembling, collapsing into your arms. You curled around him instantly, greedy for the contact, peppering hot, open mouthed kisses across his chest.

His heart thundered beneath your cheek.

You could still taste him on your tongue. Feel the heat of his come drying on your skin. Your bodies tangled, sticky and pulsing with aftershocks.

“That was so fucking hot,” you whispered into his skin, voice still a little breathless.

He let out a shaky laugh, a soft shiver rippling through him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, your skin flush with his. He hummed against your skin, face hiding in your hair.

“Yeah?” he murmured, voice still frayed with the remnants of arousal. “You like watching me hm?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, kissing the center of his chest, right over his racing heart. “I think you like me watching you. It’s the whole performer thing. You’ve gotta be a bit of an exhibitionist, don’t you?”

“Don’t try and pathologize me,” he said, but his tone was amused, fond.

You tipped your head up, brushing your nose lightly against his jaw. “I’m just sayin’. You love the spotlight. You’ve no idea how sexy you are to watch.”

He chuckled, his expression full of warmth. “You just like to stroke my ego, don’t you, love?”

You grinned against his skin. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it too.”

“Yeah, yeah. ’Course I do,” he muttered, brushing his lips against your temple. “Just… feels different when it’s you saying it.”

Your chest fluttered, something warm blooming, shifting the energy. You curled closer, one leg sliding over his, arm draped across his stomach. Your fingers found the soft hair on his chest and started tracing slow, lazy circles, grounding yourself in the rhythm of his heartbeat.

There was a peaceful quiet between you, broken only by the soft sounds of your breaths mingling.

After a beat, he spoke again, voice low and puzzled, like he was still mulling over what had just happened.

“I’m not complainin’,” he started, “but I still don’t really get it. It’s just… a nose.”

You laughed softly against his skin. “You don’t have to get it. Just accept it.”

Then you tilted your head up until your eyes found his. His gaze was heavy lidded and soft, that teasing spark still tucked just behind the warmth.

“In Roman times,” you said, brushing a fingertip down the bridge of his nose, “you weren’t considered beautiful unless you had a big nose. It’s all over their art. That’s what you remind me of. One of those statues.”

“Sappy little git, you are,” he murmured, but his voice was thick with affection. “You should kneel for me. Worship me like the Romans did.”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “Already do.” Then you took his hand in yours and pressed a slow kiss to his knuckles.

He smiled and ran his fingers gently down your spine, then back up again in a soothing motion. Your body still pulsed faintly with residual pleasure, but it had softened now, melted into warmth. The kind of heat you could fall asleep in.

You let out a quiet sigh and closed your eyes. “Gonna fall asleep like this.”

“Yeah?” he murmured. “Lyin’ here with my come still drying on your face?”

You snorted and nudged him weakly in the ribs. “Shut up.”

He laughed, the sound rumbling warm and full from his chest. “I’m just sayin’. It’s romantic, innit?”

Then he rolled away, taking the warmth with him. You made a small sound of protest, watching the curve of his back as he crossed the room. Even like this, hair a mess from your fingers, skin slick with sweat and flushed from you, he looked like something carved from marble. A statue with attitude. And a massive cock.

You bit your lip, admiring the view like it was art.

He grabbed a towel and gave his face a quick wipe, then padded back over, climbing into bed without a word. You half expected another filthy joke, but instead, he reached out, carefully dabbing at your cheek. When he finished, he tossed it aside and pulled you back into him.

You curled back into his chest, pressing your face to the curve of his throat, your leg tangling with his again. He was still a little damp, still radiating heat. He smelled like sex and sweat and him. You breathed it in deep, your whole body sighing in contentment.

“Right,” he murmured, his lips brushing your hair, “so which body part are you obsessing over next?”

#noel gallagher x you #noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher #request #noel gallagher smut #noel gallagher fic

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soulwrencher · 8 months ago

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ok so like this is my first ask so sorry if its worded weird!! but could you write a drabble for ellie where like reader is dinas step sister or sum and like reader lives a few states away and dina wants reader to meet her friends so reader visits and meets all of them and ellie is like nervous and stuff and dina teases her for it and eventually dina ships ellie and reader tg (once again sorry if its worded weird..😭)

it's okay! so i'm not gonna specify readers relationship with dina lmao, reader could be a family friend too... and it's longer than a drabble, sorry. but here you go!

why don't you stay, stay here after hours?

ellie x reader, just fluff, not proofread, enjoy :)

you haven't been here for a while. but dina's apartment stayed the same, citrus-scented air freshener and deep brown eyes meeting you at the front door, it was all so familiar, even after all those years. however, you didn't expect a pretty face to emerge from behind her, in fact you didn't expect your little trip to good old hometown to be interesting in any way. when dina told you about her friends, you weren't expecting much, sorry dina. but shit, her friend is more than pretty, she's incredibly attractive.

"come on in," dina says, hugging you, miss pretty face standing awkwardly to the side. you let go, dina gestures towards her, you've been dying to know about her at this point and it's been only a few minutes since you got here.

"so, this is my friend ellie, we used to be a thing but—" ellie clears her throat, are her cheeks slightly rosy?

"we're really good friends, that's what i was trying to say," she continues, shooting ellie a glare. you awkwardly laugh, exchange some 'hi''s and 'nice to meet you''s with ellie, her raspy voice makes it harder for you to remember what you're here for. pretty auburn hair, strands falling out of her bun framing her face, green eyes and long lashes, freckles and kissable lips... what were you here for?

and ellie can't help but notice your eyes wandering, it's making her nervous. it's making her nervous that a gorgeous woman like you was watching her so carefully, she isn't used to getting this much attention next to dina who's incredibly extroverted and drawing all the attention.

she watches you leave and go up to dina's room. pulling dina aside, ellie elbows her.

"ouch," she hisses, rubbing herself.

"what the fuck? why would you mention we used to be a thing," ellie whispers. dina gasps, then covers her mouth, a sly smirk creeping up her face.

"don't tell me you like—" ellie cuts her off with a threatening, well not so threatening, 'hey' hoping dina understands that she needs to quiet down, you're literally upstairs.

"no, she's just pretty. you didn't tell me she's that pretty," she whispers, her face turning red. this will be a fun game for dina, for sure.

you all sit in her very cramped, but colorful kitchen, snacking and drinking while you and dina catch up. however, ellie can't help but steal glances from you, she couldn't help but study your face, the way you speak, the way you'd wheeze when you thought you said something funny, or when you—

"—and ellie is so, totally so single, incredibly single," dina laughs, pulling ellie out of thought. and you too, you've been thinking about ellie's green eyes lingering on your lips, is something on there? dina is the only one laughing while you and ellie are exchanging glances, for a second it feels like the world stopped for you to step closer to something unreachable.

"i guess i am? but why does that matter," ellie then responds, annoyance lacing her voice.

"because she's single too? and i just wanna be able to say that i'm a matchmaker," dina continues, stuffing chips into her mouth. you laugh, but ellie doesn't.

"you really wanna make us all uncomfortable, huh?" ellie mutters, fuck, why would she say that? she's been so overly self-conscious, trying really hard to leave good impressions, but having a pretty girl watch her bicker with her good friend, not how she imagined this to go at all.

"oh i'm not uncomfortable, don't worry," you say, the tension was thick. and dina notices this too, this whole thing took the wrong turn.

"well back in high school i walked up to someone thinking it was dina and scared that girl from behind, talk about uncomfortable," she scoffs. dina immediately throws back her head and cackles, but you can hear ellie's soft and low chuckles. fuck she's cute and you want to know more, know more about her and all the stories she had to tell and lived up until now.

and ellie is more than happy to see the smile that emerged on your lips when she said that, her eyes on you while you giggle at dina's silly stories about teenage ellie and dina's adventures. she just can't look away, your nose scrunches when you laugh, your eyes literally sparkle, you are just so endearing, and ellie would be a fool to pass up on this chance, on this chance to get to know you.

and you spend the rest of the afternoon at dina's place, laughter filling the room, glances and hands brushing filling up your heart.

"okay guys, we need to wrap it up, jesse is on his way and you know how he gets," dina shoots a look to ellie, both nodding in some secret agreement.

"can you get her to her hotel? but take it slow guys, never fuck on the first date," she chuckles, ellie scoffs while getting on her jacket, ellie would never be able to even hold hands with someone as beautiful and kind as you. but it for sure is a nice thought, a thought she saves for when she'll go to sleep later. and your thoughts are racing too, you're about to get in the car with ellie, she'll be driving you, you'll be alone with her, you are freaking out, but you can't let it show.

instead you awkwardly play with the leaves on the ground while you wait in front of her car after you said goodbye to dina.

walking out of dina's apartment, ellie can feel her heart jump out of her chest. she's a fucking wreck, but her urge for more is too big to ignore, she has to do something about all the feelings you made her feel. and for once in her life, she decides to make the first move once you're in her car, something dina always made fun of, telling ellie she's the biggest coward ever.

but not today, today she'll make you fall for her.

what she didn't know is that the second ellie opened the door for you and the scent of patchouli and tobacco filled your senses, you already fell, really hard at that.

you sit in her passenger seat, imagination running wild, the two of you could be knee deep—

"you comfy?" ellie asks, pulling you out of thought. you nod, yeah too fucking comfortable. you struggle putting your seatbelt on because your hands are shaking, but ellie is attentive, already helping you out, with shaky hands too.

to your disappointment, the drive was mostly quiet, so quiet you could hear your own racing heartbeat. but it's stupid to believe that someone like ellie would want to get to know you, you feel stupid for getting your hopes up.

ellie's eyes are on the navigator the whole time, two more streets and you're at the hotel. two more streets, she has to do something. the wheel is getting moist under her sweaty hands, she has never been this nervous in her whole life. but she might never see you again and does she really want to risk that? risk never going to meet anyone like you again? ellie clears her throat, she can't live with the thought of never having tried.

so she inhales deeply as she stops at the red light.

"so—" she starts, looking your way, making sure she got your attention. you tilt your head, you're gorgeous, god you are making this hard, ellie thinks to herself.

"��i made dinner, you should stay." ellie says, her voice low, eyes searching for yours in anticipation, she is about to explode.

"i'd love to," you reply. ellie smiles and hits the gas a little harder than needed as the lights turn green.

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie fanfic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x reader #lesbian #ellie tlou2 #the last of us #ellie #ellie williams fluff #fluff #ellie x reader fluff #ellie the last of us 2 #fanfic

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