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aurorawritestoescape · 22 days

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FEED ME || Joel Miller x f!reader || 2,3k

Summary: Joel is hungry but not for dinner

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, pwp, food play, object insertion, m/f!oral, swearing, cum eating, Joel is a horny menace, fingering, a bit of degradation, Joel can pick up reader, reader wears a dress, has hair that can be pulled

A/n: hugs and smooches to @iamasaddie for the gif🌸

MASTERLIST

*****

“What are we making?”

You jump hearing Joel’s gruff voice right at your ear.

“Joel! I’m holding a knife!” you exclaim, pressing your free hand to your chest. Your heart is booming under your palm as you are silently cursing your sneaky husband.

He hugs you from behind, caging you against the counter, and you breathe out your tension, feeling his warm body pressed to your back.

“What are you cooking, baby?” His scruff is rubbing your shoulder as he’s pushing the fabric of your home dress out of his way and kisses the spot at the crease of your neck.

You smile already melting from this cute gesture but don’t turn around. You focus back on the task at hand - chopping a pepper.

“Salad,” you reply.

He hums and you feel his hands glide from your waist down to your sides. While you’re working the knife, trying not to cut your finger off, he bunches up the skirt of your dress and his warm palms grab your hips.

“Nah-ah,” you slither out of his embrace and step to the sink. “I’m hungry, Joel,” you say, feeling a pang of guilt for refusing him but nonetheless enjoying the way he glares at you under his brows, hands still braced on the counter. He looks so sexy like this.

“You can wait until after the dinner, right?”

You give him a sweet smile before turning on the water. You grab a cucumber out of a big bowl and start washing it. Joel’s intent stare is focused on you while your hands are gliding around the vegetable. You forget about your audience for a second doing a thorough job cleaning the cucumber until it squeaks under your palms. Suddenly Joel curses under his breath and storms out of the room.

You furrow your brows, confused by his behavior and hoping that you haven’t offended him. But Joel is caring and always attentive to your needs, even when he’s thinking with his perfect cock.

So you dry the cucumber and return to your chopping board.

Joel doesn’t sneak up on you this time but you still jump when you hear him shout, “DON’T! Don’t cut it!”

You freeze clutching the knife in your hand, but now it’s trembling with rage rather than with fear like before.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You shrill and turn around before throwing the knife on the counter.

Joel walks to one of the cupboards, opens it and after a few seconds of consideration takes something out.

Your eyes are wide and you hope the heat of your fiery glower can burn him. It seems that he feels it, judging by the way he inches towards you with a little apologetic smile, holding out a protein bar.

“Sorry for scaring you, baby,” he coos, stepping up to you, “Here. Have a snack.”

“I don’t want a fucking snack, Joel,” you grumble looking up at the man from behind your eyebrows, “From now on you’re banned from the kitchen when I’m cooking, you hear me?

“Yeah, yeah. But after today, ‘k?” He opens the protein bar and brings it to your lips. You don’t eat it, standing immovable in front of him, still throwing daggers at his handsome face.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I really want you.” He puts the bar on the counter and his hands start gently rubbing your arms, moving up and down. He pecks your cheek, the other one, plants a kiss on your nose and forehead. His moustache tickles you and you giggle trying to dodge the kisses he’s peppering all over your face.

With your palms on his broad chest, you give up and let him embrace you. He presses his hips to yours and you feel him hard against your mound.

You whimper, blaming your weak pussy for the way you crumble only after sensing the shape of his stiff cock.

Joel licks his lips and leans down to give you a heady kiss, passionate but soft. His hands are touching you everywhere - kneading your breasts, squeezing your ass cheeks, running through your hair and pulling on it lightly.

Soon you’re moaning into his mouth, soaking your panties, and buck your hips into his.

“Oh, what is it? Thought you were hungry, baby. Guess your slutty pussy wants to swallow my cock more, huh?”

You whine nuzzling his neck while a fire starts burning inside your core. Dinner be damned, you want to be filled with his cock.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks, pushes the board and the knife to the side and lifts you, setting you on the counter.

In a second your panties are discarded on the floor and Joel is kneeling next to them.

He grabs your ankle and pushes your leg up, placing one foot on the counter. Your glistening pussy blooms for him and you bite your lip when cold air hits your heated folds.

Not waiting for an invitation, Joel latches onto your clit and you mewl with pleasure, eyes shut, hands pulling on his hair. His hot tongue is swirling eights against your bud while his thick fingers prod your wet hole before he pushes them in and starts pumping in and out. He curves them just right and you come undone, clit twitching against his tongue, pussy clenching on his digits.

Joel pulls them out and licks them clean while you’re panting, mind and vision hazy after a bright orgasm.

Joel gets up and while you’re reveling in the post orgasmic euphoria you don’t notice his hand sneaking behind you.

Something cold touches your leg and you open your eyes seeing Joel slide a tip of the cucumber up and down your inner thigh.

"Joel, what are you doing?" you giggle nervously trying to close your legs.

"Shh... l've got an idea," he says, holding your legs open for him with his big hands on your inner thighs. "All your fault, sweetheart. When you were washing it...Damn it. The way your hands glided over this thing. My dick loved it."

"Ehm,” is the only thing you can say. You're surprised and even more so when he takes out a condom out of his pocket. You haven't used one in a while with you being on the pill and him being the biggest fan of creampies.

"I can, right, baby?" He asks before opening the package with his teeth and pulling the condom out.

"Do you... what do you..?" You mumble trying to gather your thoughts after the recent orgasm and wrap your head around whatever his intention is.

Your jaw drops when you watch him put the condom on the long thick vegetable like it's some weird sex ed class and he says,

"Gonna fuck you with this cucumber, 'k?"

“But Joel…it’s big,” you mewl, eyeing the thing and trying to imagine it in your pussy.

“My cock is big, baby, and you take it so well. And I’ll get you ready, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

You look at the cucumber, then into Joel’s pleading eyes and feel your pussy get curious and start tingling again at the promise of something long and thick stuffed inside it.

You nod and Joel beams at you and takes you in his arms.

“Let’s get you to the bed.”

***

A few moments later you’re lying on your bed, completely naked, with a couple of pillows stuffed under your back, so you could see and control what’s about to happen to your pussy.

Joel’s sitting on his heels between your legs, spotting a giant tent in his boxers but he doesn’t do anything about it. His hand is gripping your knee, and he’s holding a bottle of lube in the other, warming it up. The cucumber is on the bed next to your hip, looking thicker and longer than Joel’s cock. And Joel’s cock is huge. You swallow loudly and Joel notices your tension.

“Breathe, baby,” Joel says, giving you a warm smile. “I’ll be careful,” he murmurs and you know he will. Something warm and fuzzy moves in your stomach and you whisper back, “I trust you.”

His eyes are blown with lust, lips glistening and you feel you can come just from an image of him being so thirsty for you.

His fingers trail from your knee to your pussy until he brings them to your clit and begins gently stroking it.

Joel puts the lube on the bed and slowly pushes three fingers into your hole, palm up. They move in and out easily but apparently it’s not enough.

“Play with your tits, sweetheart. C’mon,”

He doesn’t have to repeat it, in a second you’re kneading your breasts, twitching your hardened nipples and your pussy clenches as a new wave of arousal ripples through your body. You moan and rock your hips desperate for more stimulation.

“Joel, stick it in me already!”

He chuckles as his little finger joins the other three inside your pussy.

“Attagirl. Ready?”

You nod and open your thighs wider. Joel's digits leave your stretched hole and he gets the unconventional sex toy ready, squirting some lube on it and spreading it with his fingers. Caressing your bud with one hand, he brings the cucumber to your crying hole and nudges it with the tip.

You breathe in sharply feeling something cold and hard at the softest and warmest place of your body.

You whimper when he slides the firm vegetable between your folds and then starts slowly pushing it in your wet entrance. The stretch makes your muscles tense but Joel swirls your clit between his fingers and the dull pain subsides almost instantly.

“Tell me and I’ll stop,” he says, love and affection coating his voice.

Joel doesn’t tear his eyes from the sight of him feeding this huge cucumber to your pussy. He inserts a few inches of the stiff vegetable in and pulls it out almost to the end and then pushes it in again, deeper now.

He repeats these actions a few times and you whimper, clutching the sheets with your fingers as the cucumber’s bumps are deliciously massaging your walls.

“Damn it, baby, I wanna be this thing so fucking much right now,” Joel groans and grips your thigh harder.

“Yeah?” you breathe out, fluttering your eyes shut when you feel the tip rub against your soft spot.

You love when Joel's cock ruins your little cunt but you’re experiencing such an unusual novice sensation at this moment that you don’t want it to leave your pussy yet.

“Don’t stop, Joel. Please,” You plead as your cunt clenches around the vegetable.

“Fuck, look at it.”

His hand leaves the cucumber and when your walls contract, your cunt sucks it deeper on its own. You’re both mesmerized, eyes half lidded and hazy, mouths slightly opened, watching the cucumber stick out of your hungry hole.

“She’s swallowing it on her own. Greedy little pussy. You’re really enjoying it, huh?”

You nod eagerly and he smiles.

“That’s my girl.”

“Joel?” You call when he gets a hold of the cucumber again. “Come here. Give me your cock.”

You motion to the spot next to you on the bed.

“But don’t stop fucking me with it,” you hastily add, earning a chuckle from Joel.

“At this rate you won’t need me anymore,” he complains, pouting his lips but breathing into a grin.

“Never, I love the taste of your cock too much.”

Joel gently pulls the cucumber out of your pussy and gets closer to your face.

He stands on his knees and pulls his cock out. It’s painfully hard, bobbing over your face and dripping precum everywhere.

“Oh, Joel, give it.” You lick your lips and lift yourself on your elbows.

Your mouth reaches his fat head and you lick and suck it, drinking his salty precum. His desperate moan makes you feel slightly guilty for not offering to blow him earlier.

Joel leans down a little and starts fucking you with the cucumber again. You take his length deeper in your mouth and suck on his stiff cock caressing the underside with your tongue. His soft lower belly rubs against your forehead while he’s thrusting the vegetable in and out with faster strokes. You’re a complete mess, the mixture of lube and your slick sliding down to your asshole and soaking the bedding under you.

“Fuck…won’t last, sweetheart. Your mouth is killing me…damn, wish you could see your pussy, baby…you’re talking it so fucking well…my perfect girl.”

You gasp around his cock when he leans lower and takes your throbbing clit between his lips again. He’s sloppily licking your folds, sucking on your sensitive bud and you feel the warmth of your upcoming climax turn into scorching heat. He pushes the cucumber in and out once, twice and you explode, crying and whimpering, mouth full of his cock.

Apparently Joel was waiting just for that.

He finally erupts into your throat with a loud groan and you’re swallowing his warm cum as your back arches, pussy clumps on the stiffness inside you and fireworks burst in your mind.

You drink him to the last drop, and his mouth doesn’t leave your pussy either, he’s rubbing your clit with the flat of his tongue until you push him away, being overstimulated.

You part from his softening cock and plop your back on the bed catching your breath. Joel slowly pulls the cucumber out of your soaked hole and falls next to you panting heavily.

“Thank you for letting me do this, baby,” he coos before giving you a gentle kiss. Then he takes the glistening condom off, throws it on the bed and hands you the cucumber. “Here’s your dinner back,” he chuckles and you giggle with him.

“No way, Joel. First of all, we’re ordering in tonight and second,” you press the cucumber to your chest, making heart eyes at it, “I’m not eating him.”

“Him?”

“Yep. He’s living with us now,” you say trying to contain your laughter, “I’m gonna call him Dave.”

“Little slut,” Joel growls, pins you to the bed and shuts you up with a kiss.

*****

Thank you for reading!🌸

Comments and reblogs will make me very happy and help to spread my work!💖

Masterlist

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @missannfairy @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fan fiction #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us

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emmyrosee · 5 months

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Every morning was a pleasant routine.

Rintaro would get up, press a sweet, light kiss to your head before heading out for a run- then, he’d come back just in time for you and Kaiya to be up and making breakfast for him while he showers.

Then, he’d change, have a small bite for breakfast, watch one episode of whatever show was on with his baby while he brushed her hair, then kiss her goodbye and allow you to drown him in your own share of goodbye kisses before he heads off to work.

But today, he just. Skipped it. Instead of getting up for a run, he whines and buries himself in the pillows for a bit more sleep. Instead of showering, he throws on clean enough clothes and deodorant while you’re struggling to prepare a semi-sufficient breakfast for your husband as he scrambles to get all his practice gear ready. He packs Akito's lunch and sends him off to school with a ruffle of his hair, while a toothbrush is jammed down his throat.

Kaiya watches, confused, as you smear apple jam over a piece of toast and pour him a cup of coffee, knowing he’d have to take it in the car in any chance to make it in on time. The child merely makes her way into the living room to wait for her father to come watch Bluey as he did every morning.

“Got your phone? Water? Protein bar? Lunch- Rin do not forget your lunch again- change of socks?” All of your asking gets a hurried, quickly glanced “yes” or “got it” from Rin. He stuffs the toast into his mouth and plants a half-successful kiss to your cheek in order to head out. “Love you girls!”

“Love you too!” You call back, watching him make his way out of the house, struggling slightly with the disorganized bag.

“Mommy?” Kaiya whimpers, her cheeks stained with strawberry juice. “Where daddy going?”

You crouch down to your little girls height, wondering if she just forgot that he left everyday, or whatever the case may be, “well… he’s going to work, baby, he’ll be back soon!”

“Daddy’s gone?”

“Yeah baby… we can get lunch with him later if you would like to-“

“No!” She cries, her wide, green eyes filling with tears. Your heart sinks, you really don’t know what the problem is, and that sadness only grows when Kaiya, in all her four year old energy can muster, runs to the large living room window that looks out to the driveway, her tiny fists banging on the glass. “Daddyyyyy!” She wails, her cries becoming more frantic.

“Kaiya, it’s okay! Daddy will be home later-“

“Daddyyyyyy!”

Instinctively, you bring your hands up to try and cover up your ears from the scream of your baby, shocked at the volume and distress of her shrieks.

Suddenly, she runs from the window to the front door, and your heart absolutely jumps in your throat, fearing she’s going to try and book it about the front door to follow her dad.

When you make a move to chase her, you let out a relieved breath to see her clutched in the arms of her Rintaro, her tiny face buried in his neck and his, in her hair. Little sniffles and whimpers slip from her tiny face, interwoven with small little “I’m sorry, princess,” falling from Rin’s lips.

“She had a meltdown when you left, Rin,” you explain, leaning against the wall in exhaustion from the already hectic morning. Your hands scrub your face to relieve the fatigue, but you freeze and almost smack yourself when Kaiya finally peeps up.

“I-it’s ‘cause you didn’t say goodbye t'me,” she whimpers, and Rintaro squeezes her impossibly closer, his eyes screwing shut to fight his own shame. Neither of you even processed that, it was so crazy that a simple ‘love you!’ was sufficient enough to quell your need for his affection, but both of you clearly forgot about your daughter’s needs.

“I know, Angel, I’m so sorry,” he says softly, placing a sweet kiss on her temple. “Daddy was too busy this morning huh? Needs to make sure he takes care of his favorite girls?” His eyes flick to you before he opens one of his arms for you to come into for a hug.

His embrace is tempting, but you sigh softly, “Rin, you’ll be late-“

“‘M already late,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “But I’m almost halfway tempted to call in sick and spend the day here, so I’d get in this hug if I were you.”

In truth, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t about to take him up on that offer, spend the day with the two loves of your life with a nice hot breakfast, maybe a couple of Disney movies and a walk in the park, but it wouldn’t be right; not when Rin already works so hard to be able to provide you with that life while he’s busy playing or even out of the country.

Regardless, you slip to your knees and crawl into Rin’s other side, your hand wrapping around his broad shoulders so your fingers can tangle in his soft hair, which he happily leans into.

He plants a kiss to your head before nuzzling his nose against Kaiya’s own dark hair, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, baby. I’ll be better next time."

“You better,” she whimpers. You and Rin look at each other and chuckle, none of you daring to leave the hug.

If anything, you squeeze tighter, not ready to let the world interrupt yet.

—-

tagging u 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 @reverie-starlight @tsukiran @wolffmaiden @thoreeo @aliensknowmyillusions @tutuwusworld @lavishcherie @sassycheesecake @cheolattes @rrairey 🩷

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seeingivy · 2 months

Text

dinner party

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's (older brother) fic

previous part linked here

an: what is going on in the house of commons (I do not know) MAJOR CRINGE ALERT but it's part of the lore idgaf this was a long time coming

it’s four thirty in the morning when sukuna decides to pry you from your computer.

he’s almost positive that he’s going to get pushed back, cued on by the combination of your sleep deprivation and the concerning amount of energy drinks he knows you must have consumed within the hour.

but the tangled mess of your hair and your deep, dark eye bags, have bothered him long enough – and if anything – he’s given you tons of grace for letting it go on for four days.

sukuna gets working hard. he just can’t stand by working yourself to the bone.

he finds you hunched over on the kitchen island, head down on the counter as you scribble away on your notebook – a sizable amount of ink smeared on your hands, a few empty wrappers of protein bars at your side, and your eyes barely open.

sukuna leans forward, resting his forearms on the counter, before reaching forward to push your computer shut. the sound that follows jolts you out of your concentration, to find an…almost irritated sukuna sleepily rubbing his eyes.

“hey. did i wake you up? i dropped the glass earlier by accident.” you mumble.

“you broke a glass?” sukuna asks.

“yeah. most of it is in the corner over there, i’ll swear i’ll clean it up as soon as i’m done.”

sukuna opens his eyes fully this time, to find the stacked pile of glass sitting in the little corner, sparing you a glare before reaching for the little bin. the guilt flares up in you as you watch him drag his tired body over to the side, carefully shuffling all of the little shards away into the bag,

“sukuna. you don’t have to do that. i was going to clean it up.”

“well, fuck off now. more time for you to sleep if i do it for you.” he mumbles.

you’re positive he meant to make that more domineering then it ended up being.

and it’s horrible. it’s been days since you’ve slept next to him, always climbing in as he’s climbing out to go to work – pressing a consolation kiss to his cheek before you pass out into the sheets. and now he’s up in the middle of the night, cleaning your mess just to ensure you a few more minutes of rest.

“i’m almost done with my personal statement, i just want to make sure it’s done before i send it out to-”

“your personal shit will still be there tomorrow.”

you sigh. the pulsating in your head throbs quietly, eyelids heavy and aching from the light of the screen, tiredness sagging in your bones – dragging your limbs down as you lean on one of your arms.

you still have three paragraphs left to write. your activities section could be better. you need to upload your transcripts and make sure that the letters were uploaded to the portal properly. and-

“i’m almost done, really. i was just going to come to bed and-”

“perfect! come now.”

sukuna switches sides, walking up behind you and replacing his fingers with yours on your head. he can feel the pulsating under his fingertips, noting the way you lean your head against his chest and lean back the second he starts massaging into your skin.

“you’re starting to fucking piss me off.” sukuna mutters.

that’s what he says. it sounds more like you’re starting to concern me.

“i’m coming, sukuna. just give me a few more minutes, okay?”

sukuna pulls the stool at your side, before looping both of his hands around your thighs and pulling you up into his lap. his hands are steady – holding you firmly at your sides – as he looks up at you and you dig your hands into the hardness of his collarbone.

you loop your fingers through the silver chain around sukuna’s neck, tugging on the little dog tag charm at the end to pull him closer to you. it’s a chaste kiss that you press to his lips and you you can feel him staring after – big, brown eyes peering into yours – as he kneads his hands into your skin.

you scoff.

“are you poking my butt?” you ask.

“maybe a little.” sukuna responds.

“you’re such a dog.”

“you cop a feel almost everyday. god forbid i touch my girlfriend’s butt.”

sukuna reaches forward, tucking one of the loose strands behind your ear.

“we used to be a real country, y’know? people used to touch butts all the time.”

you smile and sukuna reaches up to run his fingers over your lips, the softness mirrored on his face too. and you know that a lecture is going to follow, so you bury your hands into his messy bedhead.

“you have to fucking stop this shit.” sukuna states.

you sigh.

“i know. it’s just that once i start, i find it hard to stop. i just want to finish it all in one go.”

“you want to clean up animal shit that badly?”

you groan.

“you’re so mean, sukuna. it’s not cleaning up animal shit…”

“yeah, yeah…i’ve heard your whole healing and love for the earth and animals shit before, i know.”

you dig your hands into his scalp.

“i…i just want to make sure that i only have to apply to veterinary school once.”

“you’re being stubborn. so what if you have to try again? it’s not a big deal.” sukuna states.

“s’not about that. i just can’t afford to do it again, sukuna. it costs thousands of dollars and i’ve been saving up for so long. i’d hate to see the overtime i worked go to waste when i don’t even get in.” you murmur.

sukuna doesn’t think it through when he says it. he’s almost certain that if he had thought through it properly though, it would have been the same conclusion.

“i’ll pay for it.” sukuna states.

it’s a horrible sensation – like pins and needles in your chest.

you knew that sukuna was rich. that his family was rich.

and that in earnest, sukuna probably would pay for it without even batting an eye. it wouldn’t even be the first time that you would have taken a handout from his family – for rent, car loans, when you applied to college.

mrs. itadori was too generous. it seeped into sukuna too.

but you refuse to take handouts from your boyfriend. not when the debt you have to pay them back is already so high.

“are you crazy? you can’t just offer to pay for my vet school applications if i don’t get in anywhere this time around.”

“you know i have a job right?” sukuna responds.

“i know you have a job. but you can’t just offer it up like that! you’re acting like it’s just a five dollar iced coffee or something. it costs thousands of dollars, sukuna.”

sukuna rolls his eyes.

“it’s like an investment. you can pay me back.” sukuna states.

the same line mrs. itadori uses. it never feels that way when they’re the one quietly shuffling you money in envelopes when you have eviction notices on your door that you never pay back.

“you would never take my money.” you state.

sukuna grins, before leaning forward to press a kiss to your collarbone.

“you know me so well, princess.”

you frown.

“and you expect me to take yours.” you mumble.

sukuna runs his hands through the front of your hair, before angling your down up so that you’re looking at him.

“you know i only have a stable income because of my parents, right? that’s…i had a leg up, sweetheart. didn’t have to worry about working during school – hell, i went fucking abroad just because i could.”

you glare at him.

“that’s…that’s such a copout. i can’t just take a handout from you because things are harder for me. i know that you may have had some things considerably easier but that doesn’t mean i can just…start taking your money.”

he glares back.

“considerably easier is the understatement of the year. and i have every intent to let you pay me back when you’re a cushy doctor. you’re going to buy me a new motorcycle with that money.”

sukuna watches the thought rattle around in your head.

“we’re in it for the long haul. not a big deal if i have to help you pay for vet school applications, which i won’t have to because you’ll get in, but what’s mine is yours. s’gonna be our future student loan.” he murmurs.

there’s the ghost of a smile on your face. sukuna’s fingers continue to meld softly into the hardness of your hip bones, the sensation so soothing it almost makes you keel your head back.

and you’re sure that’s part of it – the soft touch, the overexertion, the crippling fear that you’re about to graduate and not even sure what you’ll be doing next year, that you could fail and have to rely on him – that makes you start bursting into tears and stand up to wrap your arms around him.

you delude yourself for a second into thinking that’s how it could be. that maybe for once you wouldn’t have to worry about this type of thing, because he would be there to help you. that he would let you pay him back, that it would be your money.

“i can’t take your money, sukuna.” you whisper.

sukuna smiles.

“you would do it for me.”

“i wouldn’t be able to do it for you. i-i would want to but…”

sukuna frowns.

“you know money doesn’t mean shit to me right?”

you sigh.

“but it does to me. we already owe you so much and…and this can’t be another thing on the list of stuff i have to pay back.” you state.

sukuna hooks his hands under your knees, before tilting you over his back and marching his way back to the room. there’s angry grumbling under his breath, that’s fully intelligible to you and makes your breath hitch.

“why are we having this stupid fucking conversation at four in the morning? i’m not about to get into the whole logistics of marriage and shared bank accounts when you can’t even stop giggling after i touch your thighs sometimes. just chill the fuck out.”

you feel bad. but you can’t help but laugh at how stupid he sounds as he flops you flat onto the sheets – that he haphazardly mentioned marrying you – as he rummages through the closet for your pajamas. you can tell that he’s tabled it for now and you’re more than grateful as your eyelids start to heavy with sleep.

“arms up.”

you oblige as he reaches for your shirt – and lightly push him as he tangles it over your head for far too long – before pulling it straight off. there’s a wide smile on his face and you reach for his wrist to stop him.

“what’s wrong?”

not the time.

“nothing! i just….nothing, sorry.”

you take the shirt from his hands before slipping it over your head and switching into the shorts. sukuna’s always quick with things like this – closing his eyes and turning around – always waiting until you were done.

besides your momentary lapse in awkwardness when you were able to take the bath with him, you hadn’t pushed anything farther. but it was pooling in the pit of your stomach – that want to be closer to him, moving in tandem with him for something…more intimate.

you’d talk to him about it on the weekend.

“are you…sitting at the kids table?”

you look up to find a blonde girl standing against the back end of the wall, nursing a little glass of wine in her hands. you shoot the group of kids an apologetic smile before you push off the floor, rubbing the red spots in your knee from the carpet, before giving a polite smile.

“ah. i kind of lost my boyfriend…and i can’t find my friends. they were also playing the entire game wrong and it was hurting my soul a little bit.”

the girl laughs, pushing her hair behind her shoulder before extending her hand out to you.

“valid. i’d do the same thing. i’m kisa.” she states.

you swear you know her from somewhere. though the likelihood of that is probably ninety percent – there wasn’t anyone in this town who didn’t know each other.

“i’m y/n.”

“wait. y/n? are you sammy’s sister?”

point proven.

“that’s right. yeah, she’s here somewhere. our mom was invited, she’s really good friends with mrs. itadori.” you.

she hums in response, as you watch people shuffle in and out of the room. there’s a highly doctored smell of perfume in the room – billowing black dresses and shiny pearls – as all of you mom’s friends amble around the foyer taking their pictures.

mrs. itadori spent a decent amount of her time planning extravagant dinner parties. and once in a while, you had to drag yourself all the way out here to show your face with yuuji. it was hardly pleasant.

yuuji’s dad would always make a shitty comment, sammy’s ass kissing would be at its peak, and the two of you would be left to fend for the wolves.

sukuna, naturally, knew this. so he decided to attend to.

you just didn’t realize he’d be so popular. neither did yuuji and it makes your skin itch that you don’t know where he is right now. or that you can’t resolve the tension that he must be feeling – especially when it’s about sukuna.

“why are you here?”

she grins.

“i have this really hot ex-boyfriend. i was figuring he might be here tonight since he’s back in town.”

“do tell.”

“oh, he’s gorgeous. like, i don’t want to objectify men, but i literally do. he’s like attractive in a ‘i want to pour battery acid into my eyes every time he looks at me’ kind of way.”

you laugh.

“the best kind of attractive.” you affirm.

“you get me, bitch! it’s like…i don’t mean to be so crude…and i’ve already had three glasses of wine so i’m going to blame it on that…but i need to get dicked down. fuck, i’d even suck his dick if he let me. and i hate sucking dick!”

you snort.

weirdly enough, this is one of your favorite things about parties like these. or going to the bar. talking to random girls in the bathroom – finding out that it’s their bachelorette party or whatever boy problems they’re having. there’s a soft solace in other people like this – that talk so openly with strangers, with a quiet trust that you can’t really seem to place.

“weird question. why do you hate it?” you ask.

“not weird at all, honey. it’s just not very fun to do. but sometimes it is, when you can tell the person really likes it. like my ex-boyfriend, i’d suck his dick all the time just because i wanted to, just because i liked to make him feel good. and he really loved it. and some people are fucking into it, i don’t know, they love to suck dick and do that type of thing. s’all about your interests.”

you nod, mulling over her answer in your head.

“do you like sucking dick?....that sounds more crude when i say it but also i’ve been talking about it for the past twenty seconds so.” she asks.

“no! no, it’s not rude. and i asked. um, i haven’t done it before. i mean, i have or…or at least tried to but i don’t count that for…other reasons and stuff. but no, i haven’t.”

“do you want to? you’re pretty, you said you have a boyfriend right?”

you smile.

“yeah. yeah, i just…get nervous about that type of thing. we haven’t done anything yet but i feel like we might soon.”

she narrows her eyes.

“he doesn’t pressure you, right?”

along with the quiet trust, there’s always a well of concern.

“no! no, the opposite really.”

“good shit. well, don’t think about it so hard. it’ll come to you naturally. plus, when you like someone a lot, that type of stuff kind of comes with it. like my ex-boyfriend? total fucking sweetie pie. he could be standing in front of me and i’d dick him down right now if he asked. just for old times sake.”

you laugh.

“i really hope you find him. and get dicked down for your own sake.”

“he was just so fucking hot! i’ve never had a guy make me feel like that. it’s like…i couldn’t have really reached my prime at my highschool prom with a guy two years younger than me…that’s embarrassing.”

you pale. and right at that moment, sukuna walks up to you, eyes wide as he glares at you.

“what the fuck are you doing?”

“sukuna.”

you pause, the awkwardness of his name falling out of your mouths at the same time confirming your suspicions.

just your luck, her aforementioned, beautiful ex-boyfriend, is sukuna.

“sukuna! i didn’t realize you were back.”

you can feel your chest simmering. because now she’s batting her eyelashes and twirling her hair in response to him. sukuna doesn’t even spare her a second glance and instead uses it to shoot bullets at you with his eyes.

“what are you doing?”

“i didn’t know! how was i supposed to know?” you whisper.

“we all went to the same school, y/n.”

“i don’t memorize what all your ex-girlfriends look like sukuna. i have a very small thread of self-confidence and i’m hell bent on keeping it for the time being.” you respond.

sukuna doesn’t find your joke funny.

“do you guys know each other or something?” kisa asks.

“kisa. this is my girlfriend, y/n. she was best friends with yuuji, remember?” sukuna states.

she pauses for a second, before jolting up.

“ah. the little one who used to take the cheerleading pictures, right? frizzy hair, big glasses?” she asks.

you pinch your lips into a straight line.

“that would be me!” you state.

“shut the fuck up.” sukuna responds, before yanking you by the elbow into the kitchen at the side.

you spare her a last glance over your shoulder – confusion spreading over her face – followed by the seclusion to the quiet of the kitchen.

sukuna leans back against the fridge, running his hands through his hair, giving tight-lipped polite smiles through the people passing through the rooms.

“what did you talk about?”

you dig your fingers into your palm. sukuna picks up on it.

“nothing. just pleasantries and stuff. it wasn’t a big deal!”

“tell me. i can tell whatever it was is making you feel like shit.”

you take a deep breath.

“i don’t feel like shit, i just-”

“are you guys fighting about something?”

your eyes widen as you turn to yuuji, leaning against the frame of the door with his arms crossed on his chest. you muster a peachy smile, shaking your head as you walk up to his side and loop your arm through his.

“of course not. we never fight!” you state.

yuuji raises his eyebrow.

“you never fight? ever?”

“no! no, of course we fight. all the time actually.” you state.

you look over at sukuna, who starts gesturing to you with his hands – with an irritated look on his face.

what the hell are you talking about?

you gesture back, shrugging as yuuji shuffles the two of you over to the drinks, filling up the glasses.

“well, that doesn’t sound very healthy.”

you take a deep breath in.

“we don’t fight an abnormal amount. we’re like normal couples. we fight and then make up. there’s nothing weird about us actually, we’re perfect! It’s-it’s like conflict resolution and-”

yuuji laughs, before leaning closer to you and wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“who are you trying to convince? me or yourself? you’re rambling so much.”

you groan, burying your palms into your eye sockets – you’re already messing this up. royally. yuuji gives you a warm smile, one that you can see from the little gaps in between your fingers, as you cross your arms and lean against the counter. yuuji gives sukuna a small nod, as sukuna takes the spot at your side, and links his arm around your shoulder.

it feels wrong to be so openly affectionate like that. for him to pull you closer to him when yuuji’s standing right there.

you lift your shoulders slightly until he drops his hand and you shoot him a grateful smile.

“so really. what happened?”

“nothing. i was talking to kisa and didn’t realize it was kisa.”

yuuji leans his head back.

“which one is she again? the neighbor?”

you can feel a wave of discomfort, of an unnecessary defense bubbling up in your chest. he wasn’t actually talking to the neighbor – she just wanted advice on whether or not she should break up with her boyfriend.

and sukuna told her not to.

“no. she’s the girl sukuna went to prom with.” you state, brushing down the pleats of your skirt.

“ahh, that’s right. his first girlfriend.”

yuuji circles the last sip of his drink in his cup before downing it and turning to both of you at his side.

“so what the hell is he so pissed about? you can’t talk to people now?”

“he wasn’t mad. we were just talking, yuuji.”

“you looked pretty mad. and you were whispering in hushed tones.” yuuji states.

sukuna clears his throat and you can tell that he’s simmering with irritation from the way his fists are clenched and curled at his side. the animosity in his eyes does little to help too.

“i just wanted to know what they talked about and clear up anything that she might have said that might not be true. i don’t want her to get the wrong idea.” sukuna states.

yuuji rolls his eyes.

“she’s a grown woman. i think she can tell right from wrong by herself. and i’m positive that if she did say anything, it’s not anything that wouldn’t be true.”

you shove yuuji in the side.

“what’s your problem? you’re being so mean.”

“i’m not being mean! it’s just a fact. you…you know how he can be. do you really think he just changed like that?”

maybe it’s a mix of things.

that sukuna’s ex-girlfriend just spent five minutes telling you about how much he apparently loves to get his dick sucked and you have yet to muster up the courage to do it. or that your hair’s been getting consecutively oily as the night goes on and sticking to your forehead or that yuuji tends to throw some hurdle into your relationship every chance he seems to get.

or that you can’t pay for vet school so it’s time to cut back on iced coffee since you’re going to be taking a loan or that your mom’s walking around in fake pearls and someone most definitely will make a comment about it that’ll have her leaving the party crying.

or that you can never seem to win. or do anything right.

“you’re such an asshole sometimes. why do you always have to talk about him like that? do you think i’m so pathetic that he’s going to leave me for some girl he literally talked to six years ago? do you think i’m so pathetic that i’d date someone like that?” you mutter, before brushing past his shoulder and leaving the room.

sukuna can feel that irritation festering up in him and makes his best efforts to swallow it down as he turns to yuuji. sukuna debates his options – following you or beating it out of yuuji.

the second one seems more productive for the time being.

he turns and can immediately clock that yuuji feels bad – his face drooping like it would whenever sukuna would beat him in a video game or leave their board game early to hang out with his friends.

“what the hell is your problem?” sukuna asks.

the drooping is replaced with anger, an irritability as yuuji scoffs before turning around.

“what’s yours?” yuuji mutters.

sukuna reaches for his collar, shaking him from filling up his glass again, before yuuji meets his eyes again.

“no, seriously. what the fuck is your problem? why can’t you just be happy for her? we were getting along just fine before this until you decided to be a little bitch about it.” sukuna asks.

yuuji rolls his eyes. he pulls back, tussling out of his grasp before leaning against the closed door of the fridge.

“i didn’t have a problem with you. but you’re doing the same shit as before – being careless. and you’re doing it with my best friend.”

sukuna wants to punch him in the face.

“are you ever going to be satisfied with what you have? you just had to have her too? she was my friend first.” yuuji states.

sukuna doesn't know why it flares up in him - that possessiveness. you don't belong to him but you certainly don't belong to yuuji either. he doesn't get to stake a claim on you just because he knew you first.

“you sound like a pathetic child. you know you don’t own her, right? you can’t fathom that she could have someone else be special to her that isn’t you? that you can’t be a spoiled little kid and have to learn how to share?”

sukuna’s hit a nerve, though he’s not entirely sure why. but now yuuji’s crying, shoving him hard into the counter, before his pounding footsteps reside as he runs up the stairs.

there’s an immediate guilt, coupled with a resounding headache.

when sukuna makes it back to the apartment – after having dozed off for a decent amount of the train ride home – he’s thrown off when you push him against the wall the second you make it back into the house. and dig your hands under his shirt, dangerously lower than you ever have before.

“jesus. what’s wrong with-”

he can barely finish because you’re cutting him off by kissing him – almost aggressively – and latching your arms around his neck and jumping up onto his thighs. he’s quick to catch you, your legs locked around his waist as you pant into his mouth, kissing every spare patch of skin you can find.

“what are you-”

he can’t even get a sentence out.

“doing, pretty girl?”

it’s almost like you don’t hear him or something. there’s something insatiable burning in your eyes, nearly twitching with a fervor with something that he’s never really seen before.

correction. something that he’s never seen in your eyes before. he’s seen it before – hundreds of times. in the shitty bathroom in the bar, from the girl he met on the dating app, and even kisa back in the day. but not with you.

he almost hates it.

sukuna pushes you back, resting your legs against the weight of the kitchen counter before letting go and trying to pull away.

but it’s almost like you’re trying to entice him. grabbing him by his necklace and pulling him back into you, letting one hand roaming through his hair and the other underneath his shirt.

there’s an insatiable fire pooling in his stomach. but it’s the wrong timing. and it’s almost too…tantalizing, too tempting that it felt wrong.

this was not how he was going to do this with you – at least not the first time.

he was no stranger to it – the intense, all consuming feeling that came with this. a part of him even wanted it. but he wanted the other side first, that aspect of it more.

the part that he never had. the romance, the yearning, and the godawful ache.

the love making.

he had every intent to worship you the second he got, to drag it out for as long as he could. like he was a man starved, like he’d never get a chance to do it again.

and there was no way he was going to bring that out, or be able to even do that, on the heels of his argument with yuuji, after whatever it was that kisa must have said that had you so worked up.

sukuna doesn’t know what else to do. so he brings his hand up and takes a fist full of your hair – and uses it to yank you off of him. you’re panting hard, eyes nearly glazed over as you look at him and reach down this time.

reaching for the buckle of his pants. sukuna reaches for your wrists and squeezes hard.

“what are you doing?” he whispers.

you pant, before shaking your head.

“you know…” you respond, gesturing with your hands.

“i don’t know. what are you doing?” he deadpans.

you glare at him.

“you know…we’ve been dating for some time now. and we love each other…it…it’s only right to do this type of thing. don’t you want to?”

it’s that same meek look – that squirrely, almost timid way of talking. when he heard that godawful comparison for the first time, that filled him with an unappeasble rage.

lipstick on a pig.

it aggravates him to his core because he hasn’t heard it in months. that awkward, shy voice. he had gotten used to the real one – filled with a comfortable confidence. that cracked jokes and poked fun at him all the time.

the part of you that saw him like a real person.

“sure i do, princess. you know you drive me crazy, right?”

you give him a grin, before reaching back for the buckle of his belt. and for a second time, he’s quick to pull on your wrists again, before leaning his forehead against yours, his breath tickling the tip of your nose.

“no, seriously. what are you doing?”

you bite into the hardness of your cheek, pinching your eyes shut.

it’s not awkward. just say it.

“i’m trying to…suck your dick.”

sukuna takes a deep breath, using his pointer finger to angle your face back up by your chin, brown eyes overwhelmingly warm and soft as he looks at you. and it aggravates you. you know what he’s going to say.

“you…you can’t stop me, you know? i’m ready to do this. i’ve..i’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

sukuna raises his eyebrows, almost like he’s disbelieving of what you’re saying, before he talks.

“okay, angel. can you just kiss me first?”

you feel your cheeks burn.

“what?”

“i’m okay with it if you want to. i just want you to kiss me first.”

you laugh, before cupping the side of his face and rubbing over the soft indent of his dimple.

“are you being serious? you’re not like…copping me out right?”

sukuna glares at you.

“i just fucking asked you to kiss me. you just pounced on me like a fucking lion out of nowhere.”

you bring your hands to his cheeks and can’t help but smile into his face.

“why are you…so cute? you just want me to kiss you?”

sukuna wrinkles his nose in disgust, before reaching forward to pinch the sensitive skin on your arm.

“you fucking ruined it. now you’re never sucking my dick.”

you snort.

“well…technically i did kiss you. just really aggressively.” you mumble.

sukuna’s laugh is soft, almost quiet as he leans forward to press a kiss to your hair.

“kiss me properly. i’m not going anywhere. i…i want to savor it.”

you swallow hard, as he takes over the open space in between your legs, and leans forward. his hair is tickling your forehead, your breaths slow as you cycle in tandem, and you loop your arms around his torso.

there’s a small amount of desperation in the way that sukuna kisses you, a burning that ignites over your skin and makes your stomach drop to your core. but it’s almost like he’s slowing you down, curbing that feeling in your chest – by ubbing circles into your back, a contentment in his demeanor – that you’re cued into by the way he’s smiling into the kiss.

that’s when you realize.

“you’re not going to let me do it, are you?” you murmur, whispering against his lips.

“perceptive.” sukuna mumbles back, before pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

you groan, which has the smallest of laughs bubbling out of him. it’s free of any teasing – that you’re positive of as he lifts your hands to his lips and presses a kiss on each of your knuckles.

“i like the rings. wonder what your hands would look like around my…”

“well, now you’re just being fucking annoying.”

“i’m joking.”

you sigh, leaning your cheek against his shoulder, as you blink hard.

“why not?”

as quickly as that quiet, squirrely voice came back, it’s almost like he decimated it in his hands with a few seconds. if this were months prior, it would have taken him weeks to convince you that he still liked you.

you had stopped viewing his actions as swift rejections, as slights against you, and started taking them for what they were.

sukuna was going to kill yuuji for trying to shit on your relationship later. you were meant to be together, that much was obvious.

“yuuji and i kind of…fought. i want to be in the right mood when we do this.”

you lean forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“you know, he’s starting to really make me mad. he should just leave us alone if it pisses him off that much and-”

“i said more than he did. it’s my fault. i’ll apologize tomorrow.”

you shake your head. and there’s an awkward silence, before sukuna asks.

“so what did she say? i know that didn’t come out of nowhere, even if you were thinking about it before.”

you groan, digging your face into his neck.

it’s almost embarrassing now.

“she was there to see you. wanted to get dicked down by you. and mentioned that apparently you really like having your dick sucked? i don’t know…i just…had a long week. vet school and my mom and yuuji and…and you. figured i’d at least relieve some tension and give you what you wanted. like two birds in one stone type of thing.”

“please don’t refer to sex as a stone.” sukuna deadpans.

you laugh and it makes sukuna smile.

“the only thing i want is you.”

you sigh.

“ugh! i’m…i’m so annoyed because i actually know that. if you were going to get up and leave you would have done it by now because it’s been months but i just…felt so stupid or like undercooked or something because we haven’t done it yet that i just-”

“do you feel like you have something to prove?”

you bite your lip.

“i guess. it’s about you but…but it’s about other stuff too. i want to be strong enough to do it. i don’t want to let bad experiences hold me back when you’re obviously a good guy and obviously good in bed but-”

sukuna smirks.

“obviously?”

“you’re so annoying.”

sukuna wraps his hands around your cheeks, before pulling you up to look at him. and practices the way he’s worded this in his head a hundred times, hoping that it comes out right.

“angel?”

“yeah?”

“about what you said. about other stuff.”

it’s almost like you’re a kicked dog, trying to retreat after he mentioned it.

“i don’t want to push you into telling me. and you don’t have to. i can…i can piece some of it together. but i just need to know what not to do. i’ll never forgive myself if i ever hurt you, especially if it’s something regarding this.”

he leans his forehead against yours, his voice so quiet that it makes your chest ache, with overwhelming, sincere love of his consideration for you.

“i’m sorry it happened to you. you don’t even have to tell me. write me a list or send me an email. i just need to know what’s off limits, anything that could possibly…remind you of anything that happened to you.”

you angle your face back up, leaving a lingering kiss on his lips before pulling back.

“are you tired?” you ask.

he leans back, in confusion.

“no?”

“then, i’ll tell you right now.”

sukuna’s eyes widen.

“i’m not trying to pressure you.”

you smile, before linking your hands into his.

“i know. you’re not. i’ve been thinking about how to talk to you about it. and one of the biggest hurdles is…having to address that it happened? but if you already know…all i have to do is tell you now. and…”

you sigh.

“and it’s you. i feel safe enough to tell you about it but just…just don’t be weird about it?”

sukuna reaches forward, crossing a little x shape onto your chest. you tilt your head to the side, in confusion.

“what was that?”

“crossing your heart. like the promise?”

“you’re supposed to cross your own heart.”

sukuna glares.

“i’m not going to spell it out for you. you’re smart enough to figure it out.”

it takes a few seconds, but you reach the conclusion.

sukuna crossed your heart instead of his. he made the promise on yours, because yours was more important than his own – enough to make an oath on.

yours over his.

it’s the only reason you’re able to muster enough courage to even tell him what happened in the first place.

next part linked here

an: ladies and gentleman, we cringe. (this was a long time coming but it's for plot purposes)

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videovamptramp · 7 months

Text

i would do anything for you to love me

(song: american hero - rainbow kitten surprises // natasha x fem reader)

summary - you have an obvious crush on natasha, and consistently do little things that prove so. though, she’s a grump who doesn’t know how to respond to your advances. this ultimately leads to her hurting your feelings.

warnings: mean nat, grumpy natasha, y/n is too sweet for her own good. a bit angsty but fluffy ending

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“hey nat!” you exclaim, and natasha nearly drops her coffee mug due to the sound of your high pitched voice. natasha turns to glare at you, “how many times do i have to tell you not to call me that?" she snaps, and your shoulders deflate a bit. “sorry, natasha! i just wanted to see if you were alright. you came back from that mission yesterday and you didn’t even have dinner...” you say, and natasha turns her head to keep her back towards you. “i’m fine.” it was an obvious lie, but natasha didn’t know that you knew that.

you merely nod, “okay, nat— natasha. i just brought you some of those banana and nutella crepe’s you like from that place downtown. here.” you reveal, as you place the to-go box on the counter that the redhead was leaning on. “thanks.” natasha mutters, and you smile widely at the small moment of politeness. natasha turns her head to see you smiling like an idiot, and her scowl returns as something unwanted in her stomach flutters. “is that all you wanted?” natasha asks a bit harshly, and your smile falters. “oh, yeah! sorry! i’ll leave you alone now!” you promise as you scurry away, leaving natasha alone. at least she thought she was alone.

“god, you’re such a cunt.” yelena murmurs, half asleep as she walks into the kitchen of the compound. natasha glares at her younger sister, “well good morning to you too.” natasha hisses, and yelena rolls her eyes as she reaches for a clean mug. yelena doesn’t say anything else to the redhead as she pours herself a cup of fresh coffee. "what has you in such a crap mood?” natasha asks, evidently annoyed. “nothing. i just figured we were all being asshole’s today, considering how you just behaved with y/n.” yelena’s response causes natasha to scoff. “oh please, i’m always like that with her. she’s like, borderline obsessed with me. nothing i say bothers her.” the older woman explains with a careless shrug, and yelena blinks at her sister in disbelief.

“she has a crush on you, идиот (idiot). god forbid somebody actually cares about you.” yelena whispers with a hiss in order to keep herself from snapping at her sister. natasha rolls her eyes, “i don’t want her to care about me. i don’t care about her at all. the sooner she realizes that, the better.” natasha simplifies, and shakes her head in dismay, before scoffing. ”you don’t deserve her anyways.” yelena mutters as she reaches for the to-go box that was originally for natasha. natasha glares, “that’s mine—” “you don’t deserve it.” yelena cuts in with a snarky tone, before she takes the crepes and coffee back to her room, leaving natasha alone.

natasha throws her coffee out into the sink, by now it's gone dog-nose cold. she tries to continue on with her day after that, though her thoughts of you, and the amount of unnecessarily sweet things you do for her, circulate through her mind. the way you leave files on her desk with cute little sticky notes. you bring her lunch or dinner up to her room, whenever she’s too mentally exhausted to join the team in the kitchen. you even bring her a protein shake after her practices and training sessions. natasha doesn’t remember telling you her favorite flavor protein shake, but you somehow know it’s peanut butter and chocolate.

the next morning natasha wakes up, and the kitchen is abnormally empty. she opens the cabinet, hoping someone bought new coffee so she wouldn’t have to. low and behold, there was a weeks worth of coffee in the cabinet with a sticky note and your handwriting on it.

“hey natasha! i’m going out of town for a week but i restocked the place with your favorite things! — y/n.”

natasha reaches for the note, and frowns. out of town? you didn’t mention a vacation to her. then again, she hadn’t really been in a talking mood yesterday. she never really was. “morning natasha. oh sweet!! someone bought coffee!” bucky exclaims as he reaches for the new tub of coffee beans. natasha stuffs the note in her pocket, “hey, where’s y/n?” natasha asks, and bucky furrows his brows. “she went out of town to visit her family for a week. i thought she told everyone about it the other day?” bucky questions, and natasha thinks back to a few days ago.

“hey nat!” you exclaim, your bubbly voice filling the gym as you bounce in. natasha scowls at the sight of you, “what do you want?” she asks, sounding harsher than usual. “oh, i was just looking for you to tell you something! i brought your shake!” you admit as you hand her the protein shake. “look, y/n, whatever you have to say, save it. i’m not in the mood today.” she snaps, and you frown. “o-oh okay. sorry nat i—”

“and my name is natasha!” she raises her voice and you flinch a bit. a wave a of guilt washes over her for a second, but she keeps her arms crossed and a glare on her face. “sorry natasha.” you mumble before walking out, and leaving natasha to train. “wow.” wanda chirps in, and natasha looks over at the other redhead. “what?” natasha asks angrily, “she just wanted to give you a shake and have a conversation.” wanda points out, and natasha rolls her eyes. “i don’t want to talk to her. and i didn’t ask her to make me a shake. i never ask her for anything. you’d think she’d take the hint and stop already.” natasha grumbles, and wanda nods. “well, maybe one day she will. i do think you’ll miss the actions more than she will though. so be careful what you wish for.” wanda warns, and natasha waves her off with narrowed her eyes as shoves her earbuds in and takes a big chug of her shake. it’s peanut butter and chocolate. her favorite.

“i guess she forgot to tell me.” natasha mutters, and bucky nods. “well, she’ll be back on sunday night.” he assures her as he opens the fridge. “oh sweet, there’s new bacon!!” he exclaims in a giddy tone, and natasha swallows thickly. you’re not here and you still did something for her.

natasha feels your absence throughout the day. it’s as if the compound is dimmer, and lacking any life. nobody brings natasha her shake, and she had to make it herself; though it doesn’t taste as good as when you make it. natasha always uses too much peanut butter. the rest of natasha’s day is no better. she doesn’t join the team for dinner, and she isn’t greeted by the sound of your soft knocks and a plate of her favorite foods.

natasha’s entire week without you is unexpectedly hell. for some reason, you seem to be the only person who seeks natasha out. you know when she’s having a bad day, you know when she’s had a terrible mission, you even know when she’s in a good mood. natasha doesn’t understand how you know all these things about her, she’s never once bothered to open up to you. it makes her feel a surge of guilt as she recalls all the times you’d try to talk to her, and she’d turn you down. she wishes she understood why she suddenly felt so weak without you. why her days dragged on when she didn’t hear the sound of your voice.

you return on sunday night, and as soon as natasha sees you, she knows somethings wrong. you smile at her, but you don’t greet her with your usual “hey nat!”. you drag your bags up to your room, and without a word you don’t come out until the morning. natasha doesn’t sleep that night; you’ve been gone for a week, and you didn’t even bother to say hello to her. why? you’re in the kitchen the next morning, chatting with yelena, “hey natasha.” you greet her with a soft smile. she doesn’t enjoy the way her full name sounds rolling off your tongue, despite how many times she demanded it.

“morning.” she greets back, eyeing you for a moment before shuffling passed bucky and thor to the coffee machine. natasha makes herself a cup of coffee, and can’t help but listen to you and yelena quietly talk about some show yelena’s watching. she doesn’t understand why it bothers her that you’re talking to someone else and not her. it’s what she wanted isn’t it? to be left alone by you. natasha huffs, and is out of the kitchen as soon as her mug is full of piping hot coffee.

today you don’t bring natasha a shake, and you don’t go out of your way to see or talk to her. natasha is in a grumpier mood than usual because of it. she hopes this is just a momentary thing. maybe you’re just taking it out on her for the way she acted before you left. you’ll be back to normal again by tomorrow. right? natasha doesn’t know why she's hoping that’s the case.

that definitely isn’t the case. the next three days pass and you barely say a word to natasha. you still smile at her, but the shine in your eyes seems to have disappeared. natasha has a haunting realization that you may have realized what yelena has been saying all along; you deserve better. better than natasha and her complex moods. better than the way she treats you. better than her and her need to push away anyone who truly cares about her.

natasha hasn’t been to dinner with the team for two weeks now, and you haven’t once brought her a plate. something about the sudden distance makes natasha inexplicably angry. your cheerfulness in your voice is gone whenever speaking to her, and she can’t figure out why your smile doesn’t reach your eyes like it did before. it takes two and a half weeks of this for natasha to get fed up and finally do something about it. she finds you on the treadmill in the gym alone, getting your cardio in.

this time, natasha tries a different approach. she brings you a protein shake. “hey. this is for you.” natasha says bluntly, and it causes your running to falter as you stop the electric machine and face natasha. she’s holding out a chocolate shake, and you eye it carefully. “i swear i didn’t poison it.” she promises, and you raise your eyebrows. “did— did you make it? for me?” you ask a bit uncertainly. natasha’s brows are scrunched together, and she scoffs.

“well, i don’t see anyone else in here do you?” she asks impatiently, still holding the protein shake. you gladly take it, and a small smile tugs at your lips. “thanks natasha.” you thank her, before taking a sip. it has way too much chocolate in it, but you don’t mind. the gesture is undoubtedly sweet. natasha stands there for a moment, and you blink up at her. “it’s good.” you obviously lie politely in order to spare her feelings, and natasha rolls her eyes. “you make them better than i do.” she grunts out, making your smile widen.

for some reason the curve on your lips makes natasha’s chest flutter. she clears her throat, “i’m uh— i’m sorry if i scared you off. i don’t take to kindness too well... your little acts of genuine kindness scared me. it wasn’t my intention to be such a jerk to you.” natasha apologizes, refusing to meet your eyes. you’re a bit surprised by the unexpected apology, and you shake your head quickly. “you didn’t!” you respond without thinking, “you didn’t scare me off... the truth is it’s been a tough few weeks for me. i’m not very close with my parents and whenever i visit, a fight always breaks out. it wasn’t my intention to make you think i was shutting you out, i’ve just been a little sad since going back home.” you promise, and her eyes widen.

“wait, so you... you aren’t angry with the way i’ve been treating you?” she asks and you shrug. “sure, sometimes you hurt my feelings, but sometimes i can see in your eyes how much you’re hurting. you deserve kindness, natasha. even if you don’t know how to accept it.” your voice is sincere, and natasha’s heart feels like it’s being squeezed so tightly it might pop. something inside of her snaps and she doesn’t even feel the tears brimming in her eyes. your eyes almost widen at the sight of her tears, “why? why are you so nice to me all the time?” natasha asks in a frustrated manner. why is it impossible to hate you? why doesn’t she want to?

“because i know what it feels like when the world hasn’t been kind. like i said, you deserve kindness, natasha.” you iterate, and the redhead lets her chest rise and fall before saying “yo-you can call me nat.” the smile you give her makes it feel like someone lit a match in her belly.

after that, there’s quite a difference in your friendship with natasha; if you could even call it a friendship. the two of you were nearly always together; during breakfast, during training sessions. on late nights doing paperwork, you’d keep natasha company, and she didn’t mind. it goes on like this for a few months, the subtle flirting, light touches, and longing looks. everyone on the team notices, including you both. the problem is, neither of you are brave enough to make the first move.

until you’re both put on a mission with peter and steve. it’s supposed to be an easy mission; peter and steve infiltrate the building across town with the databases and broadcasts, while natasha sets up a bomb in the secret hydra location downtown. except, it’s two minutes passed the time natasha’s supposed to have came out, and she still isn’t here. “steve— don’t start the bomb, nat’s not here yet.” you order, “what? *static* — do you mean— *static* —ot there?” steve’s mics chooses the worst time to start cutting out.

“rogers, stop the plan i’m going in for nat!” you say, and the mic goes silent. “steve?” you ask, but you don't get a response. within a moment a loud explosion sounds throughout the building, and your eyes go wide as the blood goes straight to your ears. you don’t even think twice before rushing out of the van, and running into the building. your eyes dart around, and you find the stairway right way. you go downstairs to where natasha’s supposed to be, and your eyes widen as you see she’s pretty busy fighting off three guys.

you rush over and pry one guy away from her, punching him square in the nose, then kicking him in the crotch. natasha uses one of her widow bites to tase the man, and she doesn’t notice you pulled your gun out until she hears the first shot. she looks over and sees the large man slump forward, and you don’t hesitate to shoot the other right between the eyes. natasha has never seen you use a gun before, and it causes her mouth to go dry for a moment.

you look at her, acting on complete instinct, as you grab her wrist and pull her for the nearest exit. not even a second after you push her out of the building, and stumble on top of her, the building collapses. surely leaving no survivors on the inside. you let out a silent breath of relief, nearly forgetting you’re literally on top of natasha romanoff. natasha pushes you off, glaring at you, “are you out of your fucking mind?!” the redhead shouts, and you frown up at her, propping yourself up on your wrists as she stands up. “why are you yelling at me!?” you ask loudly, your ears still ringing from the explosion.

“because you’re an idiot! you were supposed to follow orders and wait in the van!” natasha looks like shes seething, clenching her fists as she glowers at you. the police sirens snap you guys out of your feud, as you stand up. “get back in the van.” you order, and she scoffs as she follows you back into the van. as soon as you're both in, you speed away from the scene.

“rogers? parker? are you there?” natasha asks, as she uses the emergency walkie. “we’re here, natasha. where y/n? she was trying to tell me something before we got cut out.” steve says over the walkie talkie, and you look over your shoulder, “nothing. it doesn’t matter now.” you say, and natasha glares at you. “doesn’t matter?! you could’ve died! she completely went off orders and ran into the building, rogers.” natasha throws you under the bus and your eyes widen. “what?? y/n, you were supposed to wait in the van!” he reminds and you huff in frustration, hands gripping the steering wheel as you drive back to the compound.

“we’ll talk about this when we meet back at the compound.” steve adds, and your shoulder slouch a bit. you know you’re in for it. when you get to the compound, natasha completely ignores you as she practically stomps to the elevator. you sigh as you watch you her walk away. “y/n, your bleeding.” steve points out, as he gestures to your shoulder. “i think one of the guys i was fighting had a knife or something? it’s just a slash.” you assure him, and peter shakes his head. “that’s a pretty deep slash.” he mutters and steve flashes him a look, “that’s because it’s not a slash. it’s a gash. you need to get to medbay and get that stitched up.” he orders and you want to protest, but the stern look on his face advises you not to.

“yes sir.” you reply as you walk away with your head down. you aren’t upset that steve is disappointed, you’re more upset that natasha is angry at you for saving her. did she really expect you to just sit back and wait for her to die in an explosion? did she really think you weren’t going to go in there for her? your thoughts whirl around your head the entire way to medbay. you don’t mean to be so sensitive, but you can’t help but feel hurt as you realize natasha is angry with you. you don’t like it when natasha is upset with you.

“hey steve, where’s y/n?” yelena asks, sitting on the edge of the countertop as natasha rummages through the fridge for a beer. “medbay. she has a gash in her shoulder that needs stitches.” he admits and natasha knocks over the tub of juice as she practically pulls her head out of the fridge. “she got hurt?” the redhead asks demandingly, and peter shakes her head. “it’s not that bad, it’s just a cut.” he reassures the widow, and natasha slams the fridge shut.

“just a cut? a cut she didn’t even mention— oh i’m gonna kill her!” natasha hisses and the team hears her heavy footsteps as she angrily makes her way to the elevator. “natasha.” steve calls out, keeping his voice calm. she spins around, “what?!” she asks harshly, and he flashes her a look. “go easy on her. i don’t know why she went against my orders, but she sounded frantic before the mic cut off. whatever it was, i’m sure it was worth it to her.” he says, and natasha blinks a few times, the anger slowly leaving her body. you ran into that building for her. if you two would’ve left a second later, you’d both be dead.

natasha doesn’t respond; she swallows thickly, and makes her way to the elevator. the entire way to the medbay she thinks about how mean she was, after you quite literally put your life at risk for her. she also thinks about how sexy you looked while firing a gun. the beep of the elevator brings natasha out of her thoughts as she steps out, and she can already hear you and bruce going back and fourth. “come on, just tell me if it’s green.” you beg and he flashes you a stringent expression. “i’m not going to tell you if hulk’s junk is green!” he scolds, sounding extremely irritated and embarrassed while he attempts to keep still. he was nearly halfway through with your stitches, but you weren't helping by squirming every other minute.

natasha chuckles, causing you both to look over at where she was standing, leaning against the doorway. “you know, i always wondered that too.” she reveals, and bruce rolls his eyes. “oh great, now you’re both here. it’s bad enough i have to listen to this one’s way too personal questions, now i have to make sure these stitches are perfect.” bruce mutters, and natasha smirks, “better make sure you do a great job, banner. and try not to hurt her." natasha says protectively. you blush obviously, and bruce rolls his eyes as he continues.

you glance over at natasha who’s staring intently at the wound on your shoulder. “are you still pissed at me?” you ask, pulling her out of her thoughts and back to reality. she meets your gaze, and she shrugs. “only when i look at you.” she blurts out, and you frown, you shift and bruce glares at you causing you to halt your movements. “did you really come all the way here to tell me you’re still pissed?” you question, narrowing your eyes at the redhead. she crosses her arms tightly, turning her head to the side so she doesn’t have to meet your eyes.

when she doesn’t respond you scoff, turning your own head so you wouldn’t have to look at her anymore either. natasha glances at you every couple of minutes until bruce is done, but you keep your sight locked on the wall beside you. “alright, i’ll give you some antibiotic cream for it, you know the drill. come back next week so i can take the stitches out.” he explains adamantly, and you do a poor imitation of a salute. “sir yes sir.” you joke, making him shake his head, but there’s a faint smile tugging at his lips. “don’t make this a habit, y/n/n.” he adds, and natasha’s piercing eyes snap over to you both. “she won’t.” the redhead answers for you, and you flash bruce a look. “you heard her.” you state, and bruce nods as he makes his way out.

he leaves you and natasha alone, and a silence washes over you both. you gnaw on your bottom lip as you glance at her, before your eyes begin to dart around the room. your kicking your right leg back and fourth in anticipation, mentally preparing yourself to get yelled at or scolded (or both) by natasha. “what you did was seriously stupid. you do get that right? you could’ve died.” the taller woman scolds, but her tone isn’t as harsh as before. you narrow your eyes at her, “you could’ve died! if i hadn’t gone in there... you... you wouldn’t be here right now.” the haunting realization hits you as the words leave your mouth. tears brim your eyes as you clench your fists, “i don’t care if you’re angry! i’d do it again in a heartbeat!” you snap, and natasha looks taken back at the confession. as if the thought of you risking your life for her was so far fetched. as if you don’t think about her every morning and every night. as if her rare smile doesn’t make your day. as if she isn't the only consistent thought running through your chaotic mind all damn day.

“i have been nothing but an asshole to you! do you see that or are you blind?? why would you want to risk your life for someone like me?!” natasha yells back, her nostrils flaring as she crosses her arms, unknowingly flexing her bicep muscles. you have to remind yourself not to ogle her. your fingernails dig into your palms, nearly drawing blood as a few tears leave your eyes. “because you’re not just a fucking asshole, natasha! you’re a person! you’re a great person, and i don’t care how self deprecating you are, you deserve to live! and i— i wouldn’t be able to if you weren’t around... okay?” your voice breaking towards the end as tears fall out of her eyes rapidly.

natasha’s demeanor changes, as her arms fall to her sides, and her jaw unclenches. “what do you mean?” she asks, and you scoff as you turn your head to look at the wall. “please don’t pretend like you don’t know.” you whisper in a pleading tone, and natasha stares at you with those intense emerald eyes. “pretend i don’t know what, y/n?” natasha questions again, this time her tone is more demanding. you look at her, your eyes full of emotions. she’s never seen you so passionately upset, “pretend that you don’t know i’m hopelessly in love with you!” you hiss, balling your fists as you look at her while you cry.

natasha’s eyes nearly widen at the confession, and she stares at you as if she can see right through you. you sigh, shaking your head and wiping your tears away with your palms, “i know you could never love me, and maybe that’s why you don’t understand why i couldn’t just sit back today and let... let you get hurt. i had to go in there, and i would do it again. no matter the outcome.” you iterate certainly, and natasha is looking at you with an unreadable expression. “you’re wrong.” natasha mutters, and you roll your eyes. “if you’re about to gaslight me into thinking i don’t love you, you can just go, nat. i’ve had a long day.” you say in a exhausted tone.

natasha grits her teeth, “you had a long day?! i just almost watched the woman i love get blown up because of me!” natasha shouts, and her hand clamps over her mouth as soon as the words leave her mouth. your eyebrows nearly meet your hairline as soon as you hear those words. “the— the woman you love...? you love me?” you ask, your tone laced with a bit of disbelief and giddiness as your eyes flutter up to meet hers. she takes a step backwards, shaking her head, “n-no i didn’t— i didn’t say that. you misheard.” she says simply, and you grin, finally the air is light again. you giggle despite your tears, “no, i’m pretty sure i heard correctly. i’m also pretty sure there’s high tech cameras in this room, i’ll just ask FRIDAY to run the video.” you shrug and she narrows her eyes at you. “you can, but then you’ll be disappointed because i didn’t say love.” she insists, lying right through her teeth.

“it’s too late for take backs, nat.” you flash her a feline smile, and she scoffs. “there’s nothing to take back!” she defends herself adamantly, and you frown. “oh... okay.” you feign disappointment, pretending to actually feel hurt. she rolls her eyes, crossing her arms again, “god, you’re such a baby. i can’t believe i’m in love with someone who acts like a child.” she murmurs, and your eyes light up. “you’re in love with me?!” you ask, and she looks up at the ceiling. “you keep mishearing things, y/n. you sure that bomb didn't affect your ears?" she plays dumb.

you groan in mock frustration, “naaat.” you drag out her name whiningly, and she can’t help but grin. “fine. maybe i said it. once or twice.” she murmurs finally giving in, and your face breaks out into a gigantic smile. “i knew it! i knew you loved me!” you exclaim as you throw your arms around her neck and pull her in for a hug as you stay seated on the small bed. she rolls her eyes, but eventually hugs back. “can i have a kiss now?! please?” you ask hopefully, and natasha sighs, rolling her eyes as she pretends to be annoyed.

she pulls away, and before you can say anything else, she’s cupping your jaw with one of her strong hands and leaning down to kiss you. your heart is on the brinks of exploding, and you have no idea where to put your hands, but they instinctively land on her waist while you kiss back. suddenly every dismal emotion you've felt today dissipates, and all you can feel is a burst of warm joy. when she pulls away there's this soft smile on her face, and her eyes are full of love. "totally worth almost dying." you whisper, and she rolls her eyes playfully as she leans in and kisses you again.

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seresinhangmanjake · 6 months

Text

The One I Want: Part 3

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.

Words: 1720

The One I Want Masterlist

---

Jake Seresin is a wizard. Or a mind-reader. Or some creature with wildly sensitive hearing. You’re sure of it.

In the month since you moved into the apartment, your only moments alone come when you lock yourself in your bedroom. Otherwise, Jake is near you—sitting next to you, looking at you, talking to you. If your door opens, he follows not five seconds later. If you sit down at the island with your breakfast of bland cereal, he enters the kitchen within two minutes to prepare his own meal; the same meal every morning. Eggs, Canadian bacon, and a protein shake. If you dare to switch the television on, turns out he’s been meaning to watch that show for weeks. You had no idea he was into movie special effects competitions.

It isn’t irritating, exactly—though, it wouldn’t shock you if others experiencing similar treatment would feel that way. You just can’t figure him out. He’s unfigure-outable. You’re pretty sure that’s a thing. If not, Jake Seresin just brought it into existence. And here you thought you were the mystery.

“So I was thinking,” he says.

You close your book without a second thought, having barely read and retained a line in the last fifteen minutes anyway. From the moment he came out of his room and plopped down on the couch—his leg bouncing and eyes trained ahead on nothing—you’ve been waiting for him to snap the tense band of silence between you.

His fingers clasp together, thumbs subtly twiddling when he finally looks over to you. “Maybe you could meet my friends. They’ve asked about you, and you’ve already met Nat so it’s really only the guys.”

That was perhaps one of the last things you imagined he would say. You’ve heard very little of his friends. They’re also pilots. His team. They all have weird nicknames. Half of those nicknames are animals.

There are other tidbits Jake casually mentioned as well. Coyote is his closest friend. There’s a Rooster who recently found himself a chick. A Bob and a Phoenix—who you learned is Nat—are particularly attached.

But every bit of that information you figured he was simply spilling to fill moments where you were in the same room but not speaking. Or perhaps it’s some method to draw out feelings of trust so you might participate in his little game of show and tell. In his eyes is always the hope that you’ll share something of your own, but you have yet to find the courage or need to do so.

“Oh,” you reply, trying to gather the correct words to turn him down. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not really up to meeting a group of people today.”

You hate the way his face falls. Like a puppy denied a treat. But it lasts only a second as another thought brightens the green hue of his irises.

“What if we went somewhere? You and me.”

“What?”

His body shifts on the couch, more of him now facing you. He’s wearing a shirt today. He’s been wearing shirts around you since you made the request weeks ago, but they’re weak at disguising the body underneath. Thin fabric pulled tight like a second skin.

“You said no bars,” he continues. “How do you feel about diners?”

—

It’s an odd image—Jake framed in this setting. He’s all lean muscle and neatly styled hair with a clean-shaven jawline surrounded by greasy food and booths so old their plastic seats are cracking. As others watch him—particularly the hostess who cannot for her life keep from glancing his way every thirty seconds—he watches you. Says nothing; just watches until the waitress returns to set a few plates and mugs in front of you both.

“There you go, kids,” she says. She’s older, and her hair is done up in a style that hasn’t followed the turning of the decades, but you like that it suits her; that she hasn’t paid attention to the change around her, or simply doesn’t care. With her hands on her hips, she says, “Now Jake, if I knew you were bringing a girlfriend I would’ve set aside some of that pie you like.”

Your eyes bug so much they could’ve fallen right onto the table, but Jake chuckles, smiling at you before directing it to the waitress. “Don’t spook her, Mags,” he teases. Then, “This is my new roommate.”

Her lips form an ‘O’ that holds for a few seconds too long before she blinks and tilts her head to the side. “Didn’t work out with the other one, honey?”

“Not so much, no.”

“Well, that’s just fine. I wasn’t a fan.” Mags takes a breath and straightens out her little apron; a costume element you’d rather die than wear, but much like her hair, Mags seems to take pride in it. You can’t fault her for that. You wish you could find a job you enjoy. Or a job at all. She shoots you a grin; nothing like the rehearsed smiles from someone in a customer service job, but a genuine curve of the lips that creates a warm little ball in your chest. “You, on the other hand, look like such a sweetheart. So be good to my Jake here.”

You don’t have the opportunity to disappoint her because she doesn’t wait for a response. Be good to her Jake. Not an ask. A demand. An unspoken ‘or else’ hanging in the air. And though she’s got at least forty years on you, you’re pretty sure she’s spry enough to follow through on her sneaky threats.

Mags squeezes Jake’s shoulder and departs, leaving you in a confused state of mixed energies. Shock and discomfort radiate off of you like heat waves, meeting the cool calmness emanating from a beaming Jake.

“Will you tell me more about yourself now?” he asks.

Shaking off the questionable tone of the older woman, you reconnect yourself to the man in front of you. His words soak in; another unexpected curveball Jake has thrown you within one day. His friends want to meet you, and now your personal details are on his mind. What would come next? Does he want to know the last time you were thoroughly kissed? Your high school GPA? Height and weight? If so, he’s going to be terribly disappointed.

Steaming, wispy tendrils invade your vision, and you finally register the blueberry hint hitting your nostrils. Jake had whispered the order to Mags with the explanation that he already knew what you wanted. And being the mind-reading wizard you’re convinced he is, on a menu of nearly one hundred items he magically happened to pick something you enjoy.

You hold yourself back from digging in, instead meeting his eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. “You think free pancakes are a good trade for my life story?”

He slowly slides a mug closer to you. “I got you coffee as well.”

When you raise an unenthused brow, Jake sighs.

“Fine. You’re leaving me no other choice than to guess,” he says. “But if I get it right, will you be honest?”

With a snort, you pick up your fork and take your first bite of the sweet fluffy cake. It’s undeniably delicious. Fucking wizard. “Sure,” you say, and akin to a child, Jake’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree.

He ignores his own food and drink to once again watch you. Observing. Your eyes to your lips to your neck and back again. When he comes to a conclusion, he leans back in the booth. “You are a fan of the beach and before you die you intend to live in every beach town this country has to offer for at least two months each.”

Your fork pauses halfway to your mouth. “Are you kidding?”

“Well, since it appears that I am wrong, I’m going to say yes I am kidding because I’m very funny like that.” He stares some more, eyes narrowing. “You’re searching for a long-lost family member.”

“No.”

“You are only attracted to Navy men and thought you’d travel to a hub.”

Again, as he likes to do, he leaves you lacking words for a moment. “That better be another one of your ‘I’m very funny like that’ attempts,” you eventually manage to say. “And you know I wasn’t aware this was a Navy town.”

Jake nods and then leans forward in his seat, arms overlapping on the linoleum tabletop. You can sense the sudden shift; a new energy. The glint in his eye doesn't quite go with the steady seriousness of his voice. Like mismatched puzzle pieces. “So you’re not attracted to Navy men?” he asks.

Your head jerks back to regain the distance he lessened. “Not exclusively.”

“Damn,” he replies, full playful tone back in place. “I wanted to at least get that part right.”

There’s another bright smile from him. A wink. You look to your right to find Mags' watchful gaze; motherly and hopeful.

After another swallow of pancake, you say, “Alright, you’re done for the day.”

“Oh, come on,” he whines.

When you shake your head, he picks up his fork and begins to poke at the eggs on his plate, and you bask in the silence of his disappointment. Peace and quiet, with the exception of the diners surrounding you. No questions. No attempted agonizing small talk. You have a moment to breathe.

It’s not until you’re halfway through your food and the coffee is nearly drained that Jake lifts his head.

“I’m going to figure you out,” he says with an unwelcome note of determination.

Your eyes snap up.

The feeling behind his statement is hard to nail down. You would’ve said delving into your history was something fun for him to do. Something to pass the time with the new person in his home. But now it comes off more like a need. A little prick in his side that he can’t shake.

You so badly want to be wrong in your interpretation. You want him to give up; to surrender to your stubbornness. Ideally, sooner rather than later.

“You really don’t have to,” you say.

Jake doesn’t miss a beat. Nothing about him—not his breath, not his stare—stutters at your response. Instead, he returns with, “But I want to.”

---

A/N: Sorry it's a little short. Next chapter will be labeled 3.5 and will be from Jake's POV.

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath @coldmuffinbanditshoe

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #top gun #jake hangman seresin x y/n #tgm #tgm fic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x plus size!reader #jake seresin angst

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 4 days

Text

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 30] || [Chapter 32]

Pairing: Soap x gn!Reader || Gaz x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.4K~ cw: love confessions. Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: Another cute one for the books, y'all.

Chapter 31: Uh-Oh.

Gaz came home early.

Some stuff in his mission that was, according to John 'above his paygrade'.

He wasn't particularly happy about it, mentioned to Johnny over the phone how it was 'bullshit', that it wasn't fair he didn't get to know.

Not that you'd know. Johnny knew. But you sure as hell didn't.

Because, as usual, you got home from work on Tuesday, and there was a wild Kyle Garrick in your apartment, sat shoulder-to-shoulder, knee-to-knee with Johnny on the sofa.

"Hi?" You greeted once you passed the door, carrying a couple bags of goods from the shop.

"Hi, bonnie!" Johnny greeted. "Look who's here!" He gestured at Kyle with grandeur.

"Hi, love!" Kyle greeted, all smiley and beautiful as only he can be.

"Are you okay? Did you get hurt again? Dear God, tell me you didn't get hurt!" You began to say immediately, as he got up from the couch, rounding it to come greet you.

"You should've warned me you'd come, I would've bought more things to make dinner, now I'm not gonna have enough for you and-" You ranted.

He shut you up, however, by cradling your face in his hands and dropping a kiss onto your lips, causing you to hum and soften, your eyes closing.

It was a slow kiss, one that told you just how much he missed you, his thumbs caressing your cheeks on either side, his nose brushing your cheek as his warm lips and wet tongue carefully probed at your mouth.

When he pulled back, he smiled at you. "It's alright. I'm alright. Don't worry so much." He murmured, then, his hands slid down and grabbed one of the bags off you, helping you take the shopping to the kitchen.

Having a second man to play house with was somehow better and worse.

There was also less space. Another part of your closet or your drawers full of male clothes, extra counter space in the bathroom taken up by his skincare and cologne, extra bath products in the shower.

There were more snacks in your pantry, protein bars and shakes and the like, energy drinks, another seat at the dinner table taken up by another laptop and notebook and pen, another set of shoes to trip on at the entrance.

The flat was still always clean, and there was always someone to greet you once you got home, sometimes dinner would already be ready.

There was always someone to cuddle to or be cuddled by, someone rutting into you and stealing greedy kisses and groping handfuls of your body...

Nothing to complain about, not really.

On Saturday, you crawled away from Johnny's embrace, padding around the flat, seeking food and a drink.

Kyle was in the kitchen when you came in, shirtless as usual, one of your bath towels falling off his hip, his skin glistening. You've noticed you tend to find Kyle right out of the shower often.

"Morning, lovie..." He greeted you as you approached, kissing your forehead and wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Hi..." You murmured and leaned into him, setting your chin right on his shoulder, feeling a bit of the dampness of his skin, and smelling the scent of his body wash and shampoo. Coconut.

"How are you feeling?" He murmured as he glanced at you, brown eyes twinkling to the sight of what was, indubitably messy hair and a sleepy face.

Your body was deliciously sore, your jaw too, though that one was more uncomfortable. A consequence of a night well spent, pressed between the two of them... They were younger than John and Simon, had more stamina... they were more insatiable.

"Good..." You ended up saying with a chuckle, which earned you a smirk too.

"Good enough to wanna go out with me?" He asked you with a cocked brow.

"Out where?" You asked him, eyebrows raising in intrigue.

"I have plans for the two of us this afternoon... as long as you're not too tired for them." He explained.

"Not going to make me do something physical, are you?" You quipped, causing him to chuckle, your jaw trembling from the contact between his pec and you head.

"No... Not after last night. Need a chill day myself." He winked at you.

As it turns out, Johnny isn't the only artist in your little polycule. (Can you even call it that?)

At 2 P.M., you found yourself in a little pottery studio-café thing that Kyle had, apparently, scouted out in Birmingham, one of the times he went home.

It was not something you expected, finding yourself walking in hand in hand with him, fingers interlaced, being given a smock and being given a lump of clay, a wheel, and having a very eccentric but adorable lady guide you through the steps of making small pinch pots, and your final piece, a mug.

After over an hour of that, you were allowed to wash your hands off, your projects (a very wonky mug made by you, and a surprisingly good mug made by Kyle) going to be put in the kiln, with a promise from the pottery instructor that they'll come out in the next day or so and that everyone could come back to get them, if they so wished.

Then, you and Kyled moved to a little table in the painting station where you could grab a finished piece of your own, a standard one, that is, and paint it to your heart's content.

You sat beside Kyle after he went and got you both drinks and a little snack each, each one of you busy painting your little projects. You picked a small plate and Kyle picked a mug, just like the ones you had been trying (and failing, mind you) to throw beforehand.

You glanced over at Kyle who was extremely focused on what he was doing, using the tiniest brush you've ever seen to dot small petals on the flower design he had chosen for his mug.

"That looks really cute... Is that cherry blossom?" You asked as you set your chin on his arm, his left one, not the one he was using to paint.

"Mhm... My attempt at it, anyway." He replied as he glanced over at your plate. "Polka dots?" He asks with a playful smile on his lips, which causes you to shrug.

"I didn't know what I wanted to paint. Flowers are overdone... No offense-" You chuckled.

"None taken." He replied and winked at you before leaning over and grabbing his paper cup, sipping his tea through the opening on the lid.

"And everything else would be too difficult. I'm in the mood to just draw little dots all over." You remarked with another shrug.

"Well, I like your dots." He told you and, very slowly, tapped the tip of your nose with his forefinger.

You felt something wet and sticky on the tip of your nose and you knew, immediately, that he had just painted your nose. You didn't even notice him dipping his finger in his paint palette beforehand.

You grabbed your phone and used the locked screen as a mirror to spot the bright pink dot of paint on your skin.

Turning to your boyfriend, you squinted at him. "Kyle Garrick, do you want to start a war you will not win?" You murmured as you pointed your paintbrush at him like a teacher with a ruler.

"No, no, never." Kyle murmured, raising his hands in surrender, though he had the biggest grin on his lips, and a shine in his brown eyes.

"That's what I thought." You added before you turned away to resume your painting.

Kyle snickered next to you, resuming his own painting, slowly painting the front of his mug, while holding it from the back with the greatest care in the world.

Unfortunately for him, he was too focused to catch the way you dipped your thumb in your own paint pallette, gathering your brightest red... And then dabbing it on his cheek twice, forming a heart shape.

Kyle turned to you with wide eyes, catching the same shit-eating grin in your lips, your teeth showing, before you started giggling. "Uh-oh..." You said, not at all ashamed of the revenge you just got on him.

Kyle shook his head at you, a smile on his own lips, before he leaned over, caught your face by the chin, and dropped a kiss on your lips. You melted into it, eyes closing and smiling against his mouth.

And, when he pulled away, he looked you in the eyes with the fondest look in his eyes, his head dipped at an angle before he whispered a: "God, I love you... What am I going to do with you?"

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling ,

@tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva ,

@emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes ,

@irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary ,

@leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx , @severenswife , @enarien,

@agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind ,

@neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine ,

@kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 ,

@gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 ,

@kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust ,

@thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #141 x reader #gaz x reader

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writinground2 · 8 months

Text

Sleepy Time - Alessia Russo

Alessia takes care of her sleepy girlfriend.

just a short little fluffy bit.

Y/N cringed when the two pans crashed together while she attempted to grab the middle one, “damnit.”

She looked down the hallway, listening to make sure Alessia slept through the noise, when she heard no movement coming from the bedroom, she continued her task of making breakfast.

Spraying the pan with cooking spray, she set it on the top burner to begin warming up. Pulling out ingredients and placing them on the counter.

“What all do I want.”

She muttered, thinking out loud, so her tired brain could process what she was attempting to do.

“I want eggs.”

“Oh, some cottage cheese, gotta get the proteins in.”

“Where the fuck is the bacon?”

“I’m sure if you ask is nicer, it’ll tell you.”

“Christ Alessia!”

Y/N whipped around, slamming the fridge door shut in the process. The blonde appearing in the doorway of the kitchen, smirking.

The blonde chuckled, before pulling Y/N into her arms, “morning baby,”

Y/N melted into the hold, burrowing her face into the taller woman’s neck. Alessia started to pull away but was stopped when Y/N tightened her hold, fisting the back of her shirt in her hands. The blonde tightened her grip in return.

“Bad shift?”

All Y/N managed was a nod, nestling her face in tighter. Y/N had just returned home from a 36-hour shift at the hospital where she worked as a trauma surgeon. The doctor supposed to have been home 24 hours earlier.

Alessia let the woman soak up another moment of comfort before gently lifting her to sit on the counter.

“Stay,” she poked Y/N’s nose, giggling when it scrunched in response.

Y/N leaned against the cupboards, doing her best to keep her eyes open, watching Alessia finish making her breakfast for her.

“I was going to make you breakfast in bed,” Y/N mumbled out, losing the fight of keeping her eyes open.

“Next time, love,” Alessia rubs her hands up and down Y/N thighs, encouraging her to open her eyes, “open.”

Y/N cracks her eyes open to see the blonde holding a fork full of scrambled eggs in front of her, cupping a hand underneath to prevent anything from falling. Y/N closes her eyes again and allows the striker to feed her bites of eggs, alternating with bites of bacon.

After the last bite, she puts the fork down to wrap her arms around Y/N’s waist. Y/N drapes her arms over Alessia’s shoulders and snuggles her face back into the blondes shoulder, “you didn’t eat.”

“I’ll eat after we get you to bed,” she pulls her arms away, tapping Y/N’s thighs, then tugs the bottom of her shirt to prompt her to get off the counter.

“Noooo,” Y/N moans out, leaning forward to maintain her place in the blondes’ shoulders.

“Yeesss,” Alessia mimics, grinning at her antics “go get ready for bed while I clean up, then we can snuggle till I have to leave for practice.”

Y/N slides the rest of the way off the counter and stumbles her way to the bathroom.

By the time Alessia finishes cleaning and makes her way back to the bedroom, Y/N already appears to be asleep. Deciding to leave the woman be, she begins turning out the lights, making sure the blackout curtains are properly in place, and begins to sneak back out of the room.

“Nooo,” Y/N moans from her cocoon of blankets, “you promised me snuggles.”

Alessia turns to see Y/N’s hands jutting out, making grabby hands at her.

“I only have five minutes,” she whispers once Y/N is settled on her side, facing away from her, the blonde protectively holding her to her chest.

“Won’t last that long,” Y/N slurs out, already beginning to fall asleep. The ministrations of Alessia drawing patterns into her hips soothing her.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader

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glorysiren444 · 1 month

Text

♰ . 𝒹opamine detox & why it’s important

⠀⠀

─── first of all what is the role of dopamine .ᐣ

dopamine acts on areas of the brain to give you feelings of pleasure, satisfaction & motivation. dopamine also has a role to play in controlling memory, mood, sleep, learning, concentration, movement & other body functions.

⠀⠀

─── what is a dopamine detox (fasting) .ᐣ

dopamine detox is a form of fasting from any activities or pleasures that produce dopamine so that drive for quick rewards decreases.

⠀⠀

─── what are the benefits of doing dopamine detox .ᐣ

𝟭 . regulates your dopamine response, so your brain can function at it’s best. when dopamine level is to high it can lead to addiction, impaired decision making & mental health problem,

𝟮 . makes you feel calmer & less anxious,

𝟯 . reduce the risk of depression that social media produces by addiction & comparing your life to other people,

𝟰 . boost your sleep quality & academic performance,

remember: benefits will always depending on the person, so do NOT compare to each other ♥︎

⠀⠀

─── what to avoid during dopamine detox .ᐣ

social media: spending endless time scrolling, liking, & commenting on social media platforms can really mess with our brains because of these little dopamine hits what keep us addicted,

gaming: especially avoid the super stimulating ones. they send our dopamine levels through the roof & make it hard to pay attention to real-life stuff,

eating junk food: high-sugar & high-fat food destroy your eating habits & body, including brain,

caffeine: it gives us that kick, but it also stimulates dopamine, which is why we gotta be mindful of our caffeine intake during a detox,

nicotine, alcohol & drugs: do i really have to explain?

watching shows: binge-watching your favorite tv shows it’s amazing way to spend time & flood your brain with too much dopamine,

⠀⠀

─── how to create a detox-friendly environment .ᐣ

𝟭 . designing a digital detox space

set up an environment that minimizes digital distractions. you can do this by creating a dedicated workspace or relaxation area where you limit or eliminate access to digital devices,

𝟮 . mindful nutrition

it’s important to choose foods that help maintain balanced dopamine levels. this might involve consuming foods rich in precursors like tyrosine (found in lean proteins), clean food & nutrients like antioxidants (found in fruits and vegetables) to support overall brain health and function,

𝟯 . engaging in low-stimulus activities

low-stimulus or low-dopamine activities are those that don't trigger excessive dopamine release. examples include meditation, gentle exercise, reading, or spending time in nature. engaging in these activities during your detox helps maintain a calmer & more focused state of mind, making it easier to resist the allure of high-dopamine behaviors & substances.

creating a detox-friendly environment is crucial to supports your efforts to reduce the impact of overstimulation on your brain's reward system. it sets the stage for a healthier lifestyle and a more balanced relationship with activities that can lead to excessive dopamine release.

─── with 𝑙ove, 𝓋ittoria ♥︎

#📁#it girl #loa #manifesting #subliminals #thewizardliz #law of assumption #affirmations #that girl #self care #self love #wonyoung #self concept #void state #pinterest #advice #neville goddard

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roosterbruiser · 1 year

Text

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐀𝐊𝐀 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Wait, don't--!"

His hips stutter as he throbs inside of you, anchoring you against his slick body with a painfully muscular arm. He hears you over the sound of the rushing water, over the blood rushing through his ears, over his ragged breathing.

And really, Jake isn't an asshole. Not in the ways that count, at least--especially with the women he has sex with.

So he does try to pull out as soon as he realizes that's what you mean by your unfinished sentence, the one that was strangled through your grit teeth. But the thing about that is you didn't give him much notice--granted, he shouldn't have assumed you were on birth control--and he was genuinely already partway through spilling inside you when he registered your words.

"Shit," he sighs, reeling at your sudden loss of contact.

You're pressed up against the wall still, breasts against the steamy tiles, and you're panting too.

"Shit, I'm really sorry," he apologizes, shaking his head. "I just didn't even realize what you said and by the time it registered, I--!"

You shake your head, sighing.

"Hey, it's fine," you tell him, really meaning it. "This is why God made morning-after pills."

It makes him laugh--it's a dry thing, one that is riddled with exhaustion. He's spent honestly--going from pulling 7G's to fucking you so furiously in the shower had proven to be a lot on his body.

You want to make a joke about child support or something, something dumb and inappropriate to say to a man that just accidentally came inside you the first time you had sex. But you don't say anything--you just catch your breath and so does he. It's quiet aside from the running shower and your heaving chests.

Jake leans forward and lets his body rest over yours, forehead resting against your shoulder. He's very warm--which you know is not just because of the lukewarm water raining down over the two of you. He's always warm--hot-blooded. And Jake thinks you feel very soft beneath him; he thinks that he might even like the way your skin feels pressed against his. And you both are just being still, resting in each other's arms. It's probably one of the only times the two of you have ever been in another's presence without arguing.

Before Jake even really knows what he's doing, still in that post-orgasm haze and enthralled in the absolute strangeness of just having fucked you, he presses his lips against your shoulder. At first he just kisses very softly, little things he peppers all along your naked shoulders and neck. And you don't tense at the feeling--for some reason, with your cheek agains the tile and your hair slung over your other shoulder, you're totally okay with him kissing your skin. And then he just lets his lips rest, stilling right there on the back of your neck.

And in almost total tandem, the both of you think it: this is kind of nice.

"You okay?" He asks suddenly, shooting up when he realizes that he's been kissing your skin.

You nod, eyes slipping shut.

"I think so," you whisper.

Things are different after that.

At first it's small things.

Like when Jake meets you at the pharmacy after the two of you leave base (at separate times, of course), he not only buys you Plan B but a protein bar and Gatorade, too.

"Post-coitus protein," he tells you when you look up at him with raised eyebrows.

He sits in your car as you take the pill, fiddling with your radio, looking at the interior you keep so clean. You have a strawberry air freshener in there that smells like his sisters childhood bedroom--he likes it. It's a nice evening so the windows are rolled down and the sun is setting in a blaze of orange and pink in the distance as the blinking, neon PHARMACY sign casts a red light over your face.

"Easy-peasy," you whisper, stuffing the box back in the grocery bag.

He nods, smiling softly, leaning back in your passenger seat. You're leaning back, too, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel. Your hair is still wet and the warm wind feels good when it filters through it.

"Wanna talk about it?" Jake asks.

It very nearly startles you when he says it. But when you look over at him, he's still fiddling endlessly with the radio and fixing his gaze everywhere but you.

"The sex? Or the...Plan B?"

He pulls his brows together, finally glancing up at you as a Joni Mitchell song floats through the radio. You look very soft right now--your face is naked and your damp hair is pulled back. You don't look angry at him for once and your face is open.

"Your dad," he says after a moment, swallowing hard.

It's vulnerable, really, for both of you. Jake is sitting in your car after fucking you, after buying you a protein bar and a Plan B, after splitting a lemon-lime gatorade with you, and A Case Of You is playing as he looks into your glassy eyes. And you had a breakdown--finally cracked and told someone about your father and the little time you have left with him. Then he made you cum and fucked you against the shower wall and now you're here--basking quietly in the glow of the pharmacy sign.

It's confusing, too, because up until about two hours ago, Jake Seresin was just about your least favorite person on earth. But now you think that he looks downright pretty when he's being earnest the way he is right now. And he thinks that you look beautiful, too, even with that drop of Gatorade on your bottom lip.

"Not right now," you say quietly, shaking your head.

Three hours ago, if he'd have asked, you'd have snarled at him. You probably would've hissed, "Not to you, dickhead." But things are different now. You both know it.

He's not hurt that you don't want to talk about it. He gets it--really, he does.

"Yeah, I get that," Jake says softly, trying to remain casual even though there's a strange sense of affection for your capturing every vital organs in his body. "I'm here if you...want to."

You nod, biting your thumbnail.

"Thanks," you whisper.

"And I guess, um, like for the record..." Jake says softly, scratching the back of his neck just to have something to do with his hands, "I don't think you're a bitch."

Something jolts inside of you, climbs up your chest and sits thickly in your throat. It feels strangely close to affection.

"Thank you," you whisper, biting your lip. "I don't think you're that big of a dick."

And then you're both laughing--it's the first time you two have ever really shared a laugh together. He's always heard your laugh from the other side of the room, in some conversation that he isn't a part of. Being so close to it now makes his fingers feel warm.

"I am a dick, huh?" He sighs, still smiling.

You shrug.

"You can be," you say, sighing. "But at least now I know you let ladies finish first."

He snorts softly.

"I'm a dick, not a monster."

Then you two are sharing your second laugh together. It fills your little car and nestles in snugly against your strawberry air freshener and Plan-B trash.

"Well, I've known plenty of monsters," you sigh, rolling your eyes at the mere thought of ex-boyfriend's and their ineffective fingers and short strokes.

"You're giving me a big head," Jake teases.

You smile--it's a real, genuine smile. The stretch of it on your lips feels unfamiliar. It's been a great while since you've smiled, you realize.

"I can deflate that ego anytime," you tell him, a teasing lilt in your voice. "Just give me the go-ahead when you're ready."

He takes a swig of your Gatorade. You watch him, watch his pink lips wrap around the rim, watch his throat swell as he swallows. He looks beautiful right now--partly in the afterglow and partly just because he is beautiful. That is undeniable now.

Then he offers the bottle to you--you take a drink, too.

"You like lemon-lime, right?" He asks.

He's asking fruitlessly--he knows you do. He's seen you buy it at the base vending machine more than once.

You nod. Of course you do. But he already knows that.

Another thing that changes is that he saves a seat for you. It starts the very next morning the two of you are on base together.

To the untrained eye, it would seem like nothing. But your eye isn't untrained. When you walk into the training room on Monday morning, Jake is sitting at the desk with his feet firmly planted on the floor, not in the seat beside him like they usually are. And when you slip in beside him silently, the way he was hoping you would, he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

"Mornin'," he greets quietly, chewing on a tooth pick.

You smile softly as you unpack your bag, nodding at him in greeting.

"Good morning."

He taps his knuckles on the table, trying to keep his voice steady.

"How was your weekend?" He asks.

You shrug.

"Fine. Lots of family coming in and out so...loud, I guess," you breathe. "How was yours?"

Something in his throat feels tight that you're just mentioning this fact in passing. He knows that your family is filtering in and out of your home because your father is dying--that this time must be very precious for you and yours and you're still coming into work every single day like nothing is wrong. But you're telling him this now, the only person on this base that knows about your ailing father, and it feels like you trust him. And you suppose that you accidentally kind of do trust him now--a little bit more than you did on Friday at 1 o'clock.

"Just great," he sighs.

Truth be told, he had thought of you all weekend. He was confused about the whole thing, since the two of you were sworn enemies but have now found yourselves in the no-man's-land between enemies and friends and lovers.

The next morning, the seat beside him is open again. And this time, there's a lemon-lime Gatorade waiting for you there like it's marking your spot.

And after that, it just keeps happening. Each morning, Jake somehow gets on base before you, buys a Gatorade, and leaves it at your seat. You wonder if he's spending a fortune in quarters and for about a month, he is--until he thinks better of it and just buys a pack of lemon-lime in bulk and starts bringing them from home.

Other members of the squadron notice that the two of you have seemingly formed some sort of truce, but no one is brave enough to outright ask what's happened between the two of you. Payback and Rooster sniff around wherever they can, trying to snuff out who the winner of their bet is, but you and Jake remain mum.

The next time you have sex, it's less of a surprise.

It's almost two months later--two months full of everyone dancing around the fact that your father is dying, two months of your family's door being a revolving one, two months of the stress of your recent detachment--when it all reaches a head.

You need a release and despite your better judgment a few weeks ago, you'd given Jake your phone number. Your text messages started our sporadic and random--sometimes just sending each other gossip you heard in the hangar or memes that made you think of the other. But then they'd evolved into something more constant than that recently--the two of you even catching a movie or a late dinner here or there.

So when you showed up at his door past midnight on a Saturday, almost two months since your shower encounter, he wasn't all that surprised to see you. It wasn't very odd to see each other off base now.

But what surprised him is how quickly you kissed him, walking over the threshold of his front door hastily. And he's kissing you back right away, blinking away his chock and his previous fatigue. You're ferocious in your kisses, all tongue and teeth and spit, and he's trying to keep up with you.

"Hi," he mumbles into your mouth, his voice deliciously gravelly.

"Hey," you whisper back, pulling back for a moment to behold him.

He looks good right now--scruffy and comfortable with his beard and his sweatpants low on his hips and his old band t-shirt. He's had a couple of beers and his lips taste like Stella Artois and peanuts. Before you came over, he was sitting on his couch, watching some highlight reel of a football game and putting off getting ready for bed.

And he's looking right back at you, at your pupils that are blown and your cheeks that are flushed. You are desperate for him like you were the first time the two of you touched, but it's different now. It's different because the two of you don't loathe each other--there's actually something between the two of you that resembles a friendship.

"Everything okay?" He asks quietly, his hands firmly planted on your hips as you press yourself into him and lace your fingers in his hair.

"No," you tell him honestly, biting your lip.

He wants to press you more--wants you to tell him what's wrong. He wants you to let it all out and he actually wants to listen to it because the two of you are suddenly people that care about each other. He cares about your Aunt Lisa and her bitchy comments that she makes to your mom and the way it hurts your feelings, too. He cares about your dad starting hospice last week. He cares about you skipping lunch most days--which has prompted him to start packing you bags of apples and walnuts and cheese--and he cares that you don't like red wine at all.

And you can feel that care--really, you can. Whoever the Jake was before you had sex is not the Jake that's looking into your eyes now with his brows blanched in sympathy. This Jake that's holding you genuinely wants you to be okay--this Jake hasn't tried anything sexual with you since your first encounter but is kissing you back right away.

Despite yourself and your efforts, you care about him, too. You care that he was grounded for two weeks--enough for you to have your dad talk to Cyclone and get the penalty dropped. You care that he doesn't usually get invited to group hangouts outside of The Hard Deck and have deemed yourself the official Hangman-inviter. You care that he likes rom-coms but doesn't like to admit it--so you pretend to suggest them all on your own.

"What can I do?" Jake asks, tenderly reaching up to swipe his knuckles across your cheek.

You lean into his touch, lean into his calloused fingers, and let your eyes fall shut softly.

"Fuck me," you whisper.

He nods, brows furrowed.

"I can do that," he whispers to you.

And all at once, things are happening. He's bracing his forearms beneath your ass and you're wrapping your legs around his hips. You're kissing and panting, tugging at the hems of each others shirts and leaving a trail of discarded clothing on the stairs as he carries you to his bedroom. And then he's laying you down on the bed, tugging your pants off without breaking your kiss, swallowing every precious noise that your mouth makes. He loves those sounds, loves the way they feel on his lips.

Then, after a few more minutes of kissing and petting and shedding, you're both naked.

You're lying flat on your back in his dark bedroom against his cold sheets, your eyes bleary with pleasure as he stands over you. He's naked except for the silver chain on his neck, his cock pressing thickly against his thigh. You're both flushed all over, both silently letting your eyes graze over each other's bodies.

Without another word, he reaches for you. He's careful with you as he first sinks his fingers down on your cunt--very carefully grazing your lips and gathering the wetness that has grown there. And he's just gazing down at you, treasuring that little crinkle between your brows and that twitch in the meat of your thighs. And when his fingers slip over your clit, he keens at the way your chest rises off the bed, at the way you inhale your breaths so sharply.

It feels good--like overwhelmingly good. He knows how to touch you, he knows where to touch you. All of his movements are seemingly perfectly calculated, one finger rubbing lazy circles on your clit while the other pushes into you. He's gentle, pumping at the pace you desire, bringing his other hand to his own cock to relinquish some of the tension that has risen there.

There's no haste. You two still very obviously want each other, you two are still very obviously desperate for each other, but you're not in the locker-room on base anymore. You're here in Jake's dark bedroom and he's savoring every moment that his fingers are buried in you.

"Jake," you whisper, clenching his sheets.

"I know, baby," he coos softly, squaring his jaw as he picks up his pace just slightly, "I know. I'll get you there."

His words alone are making you quake, making your toes curl. But everything he's doing just feels so good, so perfect. You know you must be absolutely slick with anticipation, that his fingers are more than enough to push you over the edge. He knows this, too--which is why he stops suddenly.

"What--?" You pant, sitting up on your elbows.

But Jake is just pressing his fingers against your mouth, the ones that had just been inside of you. And you're taking them without hesitation, a mutual sense of trust aiding in your malleability.

His eyes are dark as he watches you suck his fingers clean of your arousal, as you swirl your tongue along his fingertips. But they're not dark in a way that frightens you--they're lustful and adoring.

So when he lowers to his knees, when he hooks your knees over his shoulders and scoots you to the end of the bed, you don't shy away from him. You lay back on the bed, kiss each of his fingers and let them settle against your right nipple, and blink up at his ceiling.

When his tongue first circles your clit, you cry out, back arching off the bed. And because his hand is already there, he lets his palm lie flat in the middle of your chest, and pushes you back down against the mattress.

You taste just like he thought you would, very sweet and earthy on his tongue, and he can't think of any other place that he would rather be than hear between your quivering legs. He lets his tongue run across your slick folds and settle comfortably on your silky clit, lapping at it languidly as you writhe above him.

"Jake, that's so good," you manage to whimper, gasping as he hums against you.

"Want you to cum," he mumbles against you. "Cum for me, Wisty."

You're mewling, grasping for anything to hold you down to the bed as an impossibly tight coil springs in your belly. You can hardly catch your breath, can hardly keep your hips from bucking, when he reaches out to take your hands. It's a simple gesture, one that anyone in the world could do, but you are grateful for it. You dig your nails in his skin and he just holds you right back.

Maybe it's the sheer intimacy of it all that pushes you over the edge finally--or maybe it's because Jake is just that damn good with his tongue--but you nearly black out when you cum.

And because he cares about you, because he really does want you to feel good and be good, he coaxes you through it all. He holds your hands tight, keeps a flat palm to your chest so you don't come completely off the bed, laps up every bit of your nectar without overstimulating you.

And then he kisses his way up your legs, over your precious thighs and hips, all up your belly and between your breasts. Then he kisses up the column of your throat, nipping very lightly, bringing his hands to softly knead your breasts.

When his face finally hovers yours, when you're blinking up at him with bleary and glassy eyes and wet eyelashes and bitten lips, he feels like he's going to blurt something out that he might regret any other time.

"That was...nice," you whisper, voice trembling.

Truthfully, that was the best orgasm you've ever had.

"Nice, huh?" He laughs that pretty laugh, carefully pressing your hair behind your ears and letting his hand linger against your cheek.

"Didn't want you to get a big head," you meekly answer, smiling weakly.

The smile that tugs on his lips is one of utter fondness--one that usually prefaces sweet nothings. So you lean up and press your mouth on his, your lashes fluttering shut in tandem. The kiss is slow and sweet, very different than the clashing of tongue and teeth downstairs.

He slowly lowers his bare body on top of yours, pressing every surface of his skin against you, letting his cock rest against your hip. It feels good just to be this close to each other, just to be kissing each other with such sweetness.

"I really like you," Jake murmurs against your mouth.

And even if he's had a couple of beers, he knows that's not why he says it. He says it because he means it, because his cock is pressing against you, because he can still taste you on his tongue.

You thought your head would be spinning in this post-orgasm euphoria, but it's not. You feel everything is crystal clear as you rest your forehead against Jake's, as you swipe your thumbs cross his cheek softly. Affection is sitting very heavy on your body now, similar in weight to Jake.

"I really like you, too," you whisper.

You two have the good sense to use a condom this time, which hardly interrupts the flow of things, not when your blood is running so hot for each other.

He hovers you, relishing in the feeling of your legs coming up to wrap around his hips, relishing in your skin beneath his palms and your half-lidded eyes looking up into his. He's lined himself up perfectly, desperate to feel your warm walls around him, but then he pauses and stills--just like last time.

He reaches down, less hesitant than he was before, and lets his hand rest on your cheek. If you were another girl, one he didn't know very well, maybe he'd press his thumb into your mouth and have you suckle as he fucked you. But he merely strokes the soft skin of your cheek. And then you turn just slightly, just enough to press your lips against the pad of his thumb in the most tender kiss he's ever been given.

"You want this?" He asks, his voice strained.

You nod, leaning into his touch. Jake feels like no one has ever trusted him enough to lean into the palm of his hand like this--it feels good. It feels really, really good.

"Yes," you whisper quietly. "I want you."

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦

that gif is my entire note. that's all. I'm deceased. goodbye now, world.

here is my tag list!!

also would the world want another part of this?? maybe when iceman...dies...or something angsty like that?

1K notes · View notes

christinebloodwrittings · 19 days

Text

To hunt or be hunted #6

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: Bickering, divorces, life and death matters, after-life is so dynamic! Warnings: A little bit of angst.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100 @readergirlstuff @phoenixica24

Sorry for taking too long, next part will have smut.

The spell had worked far too well, your unconscious and inner instincts were brought to the surface. Meaning: when Lucifer turned around in bed, fast asleep of course, you pulled him back as the big spoon, hugging him close.

The problem started when you squeezed him too much, the pained expression in your face hurt him, he didn’t understood why, but it did. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere” could it be that you suffered just as much as him? The need for someone was a type of suffering he wouldn’t wish for anyone, not even the worst of sinners.

He leaned close to your face, cleaning your tears away, when suddenly you started making a loud sound, with vibrations coming from your throat, almost sounded like a motorcycle engine tying to start. But then it hit him, like a flying brick no less.

You purred!

Immediately a smile that attempted to break his whole face was drawn in his face, he was terribly tempted to do more things to make you purr.

Your body has a biological clock that started developing seven years ago, matching Charlie’s clock and insane routine. But that morning, your body wouldn’t take the hint and move, you were too busy enjoying the remanent of rem sleep to bother with affairs of life.

Meanwhile, Lucifer was overworking his head thinking what if he gave you too much of a dose of the spell? He did the amount he gave Charlie as a child to help her sleep. Or maybe you were far too tired, that and the spell put you in the state you were in. He sighed, fixed your position to avoid atrophies, then started his routine.

He took over breakfast duty, making pancakes, he found a box full with cards, written on them old recipes with scratched pencil notes around. He smiled following your instructions for the protein shakes for Vaggie and Angel, finding them rather flavorful.

“Woah thanks dad, is Y/n okay, though?” Charlie became suspicious when there was a strange radio silence when she greeted you good morning, as always, and suddenly his father was early doing breakfast, when he didn’t rouse out of bed before noon.

“Yes, but let the poor thing rest okay? She was a bit worn” the dining room fell silent.

“How ya’ know that? Scandal” Angel winked at him, “I wonder what else is cookin’ in the king’s chambers” Husk slipped, earning a slight kick on his ancle from Alastor across from him at the table.

“We slept together last night, not in a weird way of course” Lucifer tried to be as cheery he could to hide his enthusiasm, clearly not helping Charlie’s cold feeling going up and down her body, and Alastor’s neck vein almost ready to pop and ruin his coffee.

“Dad, no” she knew the condition of your deal, one more year and you’ll be as dead as she will, literally. “What do you mean?” she had to swallow her concern to shape it as a ‘Dad I don’t think your new girlfriend is going to stick’ act, like a true divorce trauma kid.

“I mean it’s Y/n, okay? She’s often unpredictable and a very closed up person” all eyes went on Charlie, suspicion, what else was she not speaking of? Not they got a reason to doubt. “Well, She’s rather sweet when she wants to” she knew that, but that was not the point, “Yes, but…don’t get attached, that’s all”.

Lucifer burrowed his eyebrows, “Why would you say that, Charlie?” she easily begun to loath how weird her own name sounded entwined with his father’s hurt voice, “I just don’t want you to get hurt, if she someday…leaves, okay?” to just mention the incident brought a pain in them that Alastor would enjoy any other day, but you, he slept with you, now that was a thought hammering in his head non-stop.

“I won’t kiddo, I’m the big boss remember?” his happiness couldn’t make him glow more than he already did, it pissed the Radio man, but his coffee took a detour to his lungs when Angel asked with a mischievous wink, “How was she like, shorty?” he embraced the pain of holding the impulse to cough out of reflex, Lucifer noticing that he smiled and ‘innocently’ finished cutting Alastor’s head off, figuratively. “Very warm and soft” ‘bastard’ Alastor thought.

As Lucifer prepared your plate of pancakes, also frying some bacon, one of Alastor’s tendril’s flew inches passed his cheek, striking the wall in front of him.

“If you want to kill me, this is the wrong way to do it buddy” He didn’t flinched, nor moved at all, he just casually flipped the bacon, not even bothering to see the enraged demon behind him.

“What did you do to her?” his distorted voice echoed though the walls, “I simply wanted to sleep a bit better, and boy I did, her body is so soft, it’s exactly like falling asleep on a cloud” suddenly their faces were dangerously close, Alastor’s eyes had gone completely black, his mouth dripping a green gooey looking liquid.

“If you hurt her-” the radio demon got interrupted by the king’s mock laughter, “Since when you care about someone that isn’t yourself?” that hit him hard in his honor, “That’s for me to know, pest, stay the fuck away from her” he noticed his intimidation wasn’t really working, so he fumed down into his regular form.

“Mister deer is feeling threatened? Or even better, jealous?” Lucifer took the crispy bacon out of the pan, plating it into a separate dish from the pancakes as the demon laughed, “HA! You wish, she’s a darling friend, I just would hate to discover she has a bad taste” he emphasized the word friend, his mouth burning like acid being poured onto his tongue.

Alastor was about to leave the room, but Lucifer’s tone turn into a heavily severe one, “You better step up your game pal, she came out of your room crying and insanely alert” the radio hist froze in place, “I don’t know what you did, but I doubt she’ll forgive you” Lucifer came into view, holding a silver tray.

“My advice, apologize, from your non-existent heart” Alastor rolled his eyes, “Apologizing is for the weak and the stupid” the king moved past him, levitating a tea pot, poring freshly made tea into your designated mug, “Perfect, you’re being both”.

“If I find out that you caused her to cry again, I will erase you” he switched back to his cheerly attitude, so easily that it took Alastor out of guard, “Do he have an understanding, fawn?” the insult rolled out Alastor’s tongue as easy as breathing in response, “Fuck you”.

“I’ll take that as a yes” just as Lucifer was taking his leave, Charlie opened the door, “Is everything okay here?” his father smiled and patted her shoulder, “Yes! Matter of fact, Alastor here offered himself to take over dish duty while Y/n’s resting” he then left a very Alastor fuming and a shining in happiness Charlie.

When he opened the door of his room, you were sat on the bad stretching, “Oh golly, you’re awake!” your hair was messy, pajama shirt falling off your shoulder, “I was afraid I had over done it; how do you feel?” he made his way to you, setting the tray on the nightstand, handing you the tea cup.

“Like I was ran over, I don’t think I’ve ever slept that soundly in my life” the bitter taste of the tea made it to your mouth, you immediately felt better. “I bet, I made you some pancakes, I got fruits and bacon in case these aren’t enough” he sat next to you handing you a bite piece of pancakes on a fork.

Fussing, you opened your mouth and allowed him to feed you, “How is it? Maybe I added a little too much sugar” too much sugar, but when food is made with care it shows on the taste. Worst thing happened when you started purring, your hand went straight to your throat, “Ignore this, please, it will go away on its own”.

Lucifer smiled lovingly, “Well I have to say, I was pretty surprised when I first heard you purr, I thought you had a monstrous snore, but even if you did it was pretty cute” he giggled, again you were flabbergasted, how many times you could be in less than 12 hours?

Everything, is that weird? Everything you knew about him, what the nuns of the convent you winded up in told you, was awfully misguided or it was just one side of the moon. That one was a funny one, you killed a mob boss, and then ran away with a bullet stuck on your knee, thank god adrenaline is a serious booster. A nun found you bleeding on the statue of whomever saint that was, and offered you housing.

When they started yapping about how submissive a woman should be to a man, you ran away.

“Oh, sorry, was it something I said? Does it taste that bad?” he must’ve seen you spacing, otherwise his anxiety wouldn’t had shown up. “It’s been a while since someone had cooked for me” if you had a tail that could wag, it would be doing it.

“How long?” he tucked a lock of his golden hair behind his pointy ear, for some reason you wanted to do that. “Since I was around…fifteen” his expression looked pained, “That’s so sad, I’m not an expert cook, but I can take over if you’d want me to” you took another bite, they were too sweet but fluffy and crispy on the edges, it was delightful.

“It’s okay, I like to have a function, makes me feel useful” looking down at his hands, he wasn’t wearing his gloves, his fingers had burnt spots and old cuts, looking around at the ducks in the room kind of gave you an idea.

“I understand that, now please eat, you will feel the pain of hunger if you don’t” his intoxicating good mood was starting to rub off on you.

He happily told you that you could use his shower and whatever you needed, he insisted when you reminded him that your room was down the stairs, you didn't want to continue arguing with him so you gave in.

You materialized clean undergarments and uniform, while the citrusy caramel smell of his shampoo was delightfully replacing your lavender normal scent. Now what was on the devil’s mind when he offered? Nothing, he was being nice, but he hoped to have you as his guest in his chambers more often, so the least he could do was being a good host.

The door opened, your hair up in a wet bun, you wore a black shirt with white leather straps, a pair of black dress pants and brown high knee boots. He enthusiastically offered to do your hair, glowing like Charlie did when she offered the same a few years back.

He had you sat on a stool while he blow-dried your hair and combed it.

“Going back on taking over, I may need you to, I won’t be here for dinner” you spoke, remembering a certain rendezvous you had later, “Lady’s night?” the Goetia had a reunion, sadly since you had killed some of them, you had also inherit their titles (On paper) so making an appearance was mandatory, otherwise they would drag you from wherever you were, like last year.

“Something like that” you dismissed the subject, “I’ll compensate you for it, you can go crazy but leave everything clean, otherwise Nifty will have your head” he hummed in agreement as he ate a piece of fruit that you left on your plate.

“Hey” you called for him, softly, before he could turn around, you hugged him, having to lean down a little given the height difference, “Thank you, for last night” since your arms were across his chest, he took your hand and placed a kiss.

“I’ll be returning late tonight, there’s no need for you to wait up for me” he feared you would be too tired to walk up the stairs to return to his room, “You know you can…come back, right? Here, I mean” you nodded, “Yes, I’ll slip in between, I just don’t want you to wait me up” he turned in your arms and gave you a good squeeze, “Okay”.

🍎📻

Being the chef wasn’t your only obligation, it was also the tobacco distribution company you owned. At least in the pride ring, you were the only supplier.

Valentino, as annoying as he could be, was your highest buyer. No matter how much he wanted to fight you he can’t, otherwise he would have to arrange deals in between the rings of Wrath and Greed, the paper work that involves that would take a literal eternity to sort out.

The main fabric is managed by an Imp. Anyone could ask why, if hell-borns are known for being untrustworthy, but she was the only hell-born who willingly asked you to work for you, (Demanded is a better term), she was also loyal and hardworking. The rest of workers were souls who are under contract via soul.

Like other overlords, you managed them under a schedule and a monthly salary, what makes you stand out is the free housing on fabric grounds, health insurance, strict conduct policies and a safe work environment.

It was a known fact that Valentino does not offer health insurance…He should, though.

You had another set of obligations, with the Goetia.

After the duels that cost the clan three members, you were brought to a meting with tons of paper work. Then a mock ceremony with Paimon naming you part of royalty of hell. All with a ‘what the fuck’ face, because the three nobles forgot to mention that detail.

It was a very old tradition in their clan, that the winner of any official duel earns the titles, lands, possessions and current income of the defeated. So you got royally screwed.

You were forced to sit and listen to Paimon blabbering about himself, the nepotism going around his family of arrogant and selfish bastards, except stolas of course, and how much he hates other demons or Imps…Yes, with you being in or outside the room, he didn’t cared.

Stolas was in the middle of a divorce procedure, since he didn’t had a network of friends you offered to be his witness for the signing.

Which brings you to that very moment: Stella fussing and cursing, Andrealphus, as her witness, throwing you either shit or intents of seduction. Stolas re considering his entire life, you with a very thin string of patience left, and Paimon stretching the meeting as much as he could as to not get the divorce through.

“Whiskey, neat no ice” you wanted to dissolve, right on the seemingly pine smelling bar table you ended up on after the meeting. “Looking rather overdressed for a joint like this one, miss” the bartender sassed as he put your drink down, “One more comment and you’ll be breathing through a tube” he retreated to clean some glasses.

“That’s some jolly attitude” you recognized that voice, “Not today James, I ain’t in the mood for your shit” your ex-husband, build like some kind of bug demon, his smile as gross as it was in life, stood in front of you, smelling like cat piss and having his suit all worn out.

“Oh come now, I just came here to chat and gamble” you rolled your eyes at him “What else is new?” he chuckled, “How about a hand of poker? For old times’ sake” he made a little bow, as if he was still a gentleman, pathetic.

You said yes, reluctantly. Good thing that the bartender picked on your sour mood, refilling your glass every time he saw it empty.

“Hey Alden, it’s not like you can gamble your daughter twice” one of his drinking buddies referred to how bad he was losing, “That’s a fucked up joke” another said, “I wish it was, drunk people always tell the truth” your poker face was so bad, only they looked at your hate filled eyes with fear, James being completely unaware.

“Okay James, how about we bet something?” he looked up from his shitty cards, “If I win, I’ll introduce you to a friend of mine, your dream of being in the showbiz will finally be true” you thought Alastor could have a swing at him, “Swell, and if I win I get to make you my bitch again” his pals tried to warn him, but you had a royal flush on your hands, and the biggest shit eating grin in your face “Sure pal, let’s see how this ends”.

You pushed the Hotel doors, tripping on your heels and the hem of your long dress, “Woah hold right there, hot stuff” Angel helped you up, eyes shooting open as he saw you, “Y/n?! You sure as hell clean up NICE!” you laughed, hanging onto his shoulders, slowly steading yourself, “Where were you all dolled up?” he sat you at one of the bar stools, “Just a business meeting, but I appreciate the compliments” Angel made a move to Husk, “Have a drink with us then, on me” he served you water on a shot glass, to make you sober up a little, “Can’t, I’ve worn out my gams*” you still took the shot as if it was vodka.

The Radio Demon was in for a little night cap at the parlor, when he took a look at you, a drunken mess in a beautiful hair-do and dress. He felt an electric feeling going down his knees, especially when you smiled at him, “Alastor, just the man I wanted to see, you want to be forgiven and have the laugh of your life?” you jumped off the stool, tripping again on your dress, and falling against Alastor’s chest.

“Yes?” he brushed your dripping mascara off with his thumb, “Just outside this door is my ex-husband, I just found out he sold my new born daughter to the mafia, would you care to make him a voice in your broadcast? A permanent one” the pain in your expression was drowned by the fleeting happiness the alcohol created, at the same time as he picked on the situation, he also founded terribly difficult to remain unfazed.

“On one condition” you melted on the way he spoke, and his hand touching your face, “That I don’t shove my axe up your ass for the stupidity you told me last night? Or spill the fact that you have a little fluffy tail?” his ears shot back as you whispered the last bit, “Join me afterwards for a chat” you laughed, again making yourself a little steadier on the floor.

“Let’s have breakfast tomorrow, I already drank twice my weight in whiskey” he took your hand, kissed your palm and your knuckles, his eyes full of determination, “Deal” his prongs grew as much as his body as he directed himself to the door.

“And Alastor” He stopped midways, looking back at you, “Please make him regret it” he was about to burn the guy alive, only for you, “It will be my pleasure” after saying that he disappeared at the other side of the door.

Immediately after that, you figured with your current level of alcohol, you needed to reach a soft spot. Somehow you made it upstairs, stumbling your way to the king's room. Your heels were left on a corner, so did your dress when you changed into the kitty pajamas.

The sound of sheets drawn your attention to the bed, soon after you saw him sit up, rubbing his eyes as he stretched a little before smiling when he finally saw you. His loving face made you want to hug him.

"Hey~, how was it?" He extended his hand, making grabbing mannerisms as you walked to his side to take his hand, "Awful, I stink of alcohol, so I'll be back after I-" he pulled you to himself, not caring about the raw whiskey smell, "You had a bad time wearing that dress? Next time I'll tag along" he sassed, chuckling into your neck.

"Prince Stolas got divorced, good for him to be honest, his ex-wife is a case" he made an ah sound in understanding, "A royal pain in the ass, those meetings with Paimon, right?" You sighed into his hair, he knew what you were going to do, he just wanted you to tell him.

"There's no fooling you, huh?" You got him to laugh again, "They got you so good, now, I imagine you're doing those three guys chores" you pinched his side for his audacity, "The boost of rep was not worth it, and now they want me to marry and fuck one of them, over my dead body" he moved to top you, his face inches away from yours.

"Funny, I thought they were sticks in the mud" his eyes sparkled, as he laid down on your breast, slowly, testing your reaction, you just kept sighing and talking.

"They are, but their slurs won't bring those assholes back, so they have to deal with me" he weighted a bit, but you didn't mind it, in fact he almost began purring when you absentmindedly started petting his head.

"Next time I'll go with you, they won't say a thing about you in my presence" he enjoyed how your hand made its way through his scalp, he missed that, very much.

"I don't think I'll make it to the next one, my deal ends before that, I have to start planning who will inherit my shit" his blood froze, a familiar feeling invaded him as he remembered what Charlie had told him.

"Where will you go?" If you had been sober perhaps you would have thought of an excuse not to answer him, but whiskey took the only opportunity you had to blackmail Alastor about his tail, and now you were half-confessing your deal with his daughter.

Blame the alcohol and his abandoned puppy face.

"I can't explicitly tell you, neither can Charlie, but I will tell you this, please don't let her burry me in hotel grounds" Reality hit him like a truck on the highway. With his arms on the sides of your head he stood up, looking more serious and hurt.

"You will die? What kind of shitty deal are you in!?" the high note in his voice made your ears hurt, "The kind a person does when doesn't want to live anymore?" out of nowhere you started laughing, "Actually, Charlie's mission was for her to find a reason for me to continue living, so far, nothing worth my time".

"Then...make me your reason".

----------------------------------------------

Gams*: Woman's legs.

Part 7

#alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #radio demon #cursed cat alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fanart #alastor x lucifer #alastor fanart #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #radioapple #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #hazbin #hotel hazbin #hazbin hotel

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mystic-writings · 4 months

Note

request: Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn’t help but steal it for female!reader x hasan xxx

i've been thinking about this a lot recently ngl i don't know how i haven't written it yet so thank you for the request anon ily | also it does get like. a tad bit steamy toward the end but it's just making out tbh

his clothes | hasanabi x fem!reader | ~850 words

There were many perks to having a giant for a boyfriend. Being easily lifted from the ground for no reason was one of your favourites, and so was the fact that when you cuddled, Hasan either squished you completely or his arms secured you to his chest with a firm comfort you’d never experienced. But the best one was his clothes.

Hasan was a fashionable guy, but he did own a fair share of t-shirts and hoodies. A lot of them were his merch designs, or things he’s owned forever, but somehow, all of them were extremely comfortable when you wore them.

Since Hasan streamed so frequently, and you normally didn’t have much to do, you’d resort to getting things done around the house to keep yourself from going crazy. So far, you cleaned the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher with last night’s dinner mess, and cleaned the living room and the bedrooms. Quickly, you took Kaya outside to pee and fed her lunch, scratching the top of her head before going to the laundry room to tackle the load you put in the dryer this morning.

It was all a mix of yours and Hasan’s clothes, since you sorted all of it by colours, whites, and darks. Staring into the basket of clothes you pulled out and were now folding was like looking into an abyss. Most of it was yours, leggings and hoodies and socks. But a few items were your boyfriends. Including his himbo gym shirt. Even just holding it up to fold it, you could tell it was huge.

Then, an idea sprouted in your mind, one that you couldn’t resist. Peeling off the shirt you were wearing, you threw on the one in your hands. Instantly, you were swimming in it, the hem of it nearly reaching your mid-thigh. If you chose to wear shorts instead of black leggings this morning, they wouldn’t have been visible under the shirt.

After that, you continued with laundry, folding it and bringing it all upstairs to put it away. Once it was done, you took some time to decompress with Kaya, watching tv with her head on your lap, sleeping peacefully. Faintly, you could hear Hasan shouting upstairs; whether he was grilling chat or yelling about whatever he was covering, you didn’t know. It quieted just as you headed to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

Checking your watch as you unscrewed the cap, you realised that Hasan was probably taking the ad break. And as if your thoughts summoned him, you could hear his footsteps clamouring down the stairs, headed right to you.

“Babe, do we have any more of those chocolate protein bars left? I’m starving-” he stopped himself short at the sight of you, practically drowning in his shirt.

You smiled at him, screwing the cap back on your water bottle. “We should, I saw some in the cupboard last night.” When you noticed Hasan still staring at you, your smile widened. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just-” Hasan seemed to shake out of his stupor. “God, you look amazing in my shirt.”

You giggled as he approached you, hands instinctively resting on your hips as he pulled you closer, towering over you. “I was doing the laundry and it just looked so much more comfortable than the one I was wearing,”

Hasan sighed and leaned into you, forehead resting on the top of yours as his eyes shut. “God, I love you. You know that?”

“I think I do. Might need some reminding, though.” You spoke quietly, keeping the words between the two of you, as if anyone else could hear.

Hasan was quick with his actions, instantly capturing your lips with his. There was no denying the passion and love he poured into the kiss, which quickly turned into peppering kisses all over your cheeks and jaw. With his hands still on your hips, Hasan guided you to the counter, pinning you there gently as his lips travelled to your neck and your hands into his hair.

You often treasured moments like these, when Hasan wasn’t afraid to show his love for you in any capacity. Even if the moments happened often.

But it didn’t take long for you to remember what he was supposed to be doing instead of this. Tugging his hair, you brought Hasan’s lips back to yours, muttering between kisses. “As much as I love this, and I really do, aren’t you supposed to be streaming?”

He groaned between kisses, unwilling to go back to his office to actually work. “I know, I know.”

Slowly, he pulled away from you, and you stifled your giggles at his appearance. Still, he reached into the cupboard behind you for a protein bar and watched him jog his way back to his streaming room.

The chat surely bullied him for his flushed cheeks, his swollen lips, and dishevelled hair. There was no doubt, though, that Hasan would have better comebacks than they did. And to him, it was entirely worth the few extra minutes he kept his chat waiting.

#hasanabi x reader #hasan piker x reader #hasanabi drabble #hasan piker drabble

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foursaints · 5 months

Text

i beg you to open your heart and see that evan & barty both exercise and it’s part of why they suck

barty: goes to the gym but does not take it even remotely seriously he dgaf. lazily mixing cookies & cream flavor protein powder into his gross plain yogurt and eating it standing up in the middle of the kitchen in his boxers. built long, mean, & lean like a hyena (!!). his back and shoulders are fucking unfair and evan wants to climb him. the only thing he regularly does is go for daily distance runs with his shitty old iphone strapped into an arm band & his wired earbuds

evan: yoga instructor. exercises but in the psychotic productivity/clean girl/patrick bateman “morning routine” way where he wakes up at like 5am, stretches, meditates, takes one thousand vitamins, and drinks some green concoction from his bullet blender made from pandora’s hippie superfoods, all with the most long-suffering expression on his face. pilates & flexibility. the first time barty saw evan going to yoga class in shorts & leg warmers he stared so hard he walked directly into a doorframe

#during quarantine regulus would come downstairs at 1am and barty is in the apartment kitchen just like? sadly lifting gallon water jugs?#“my triceps…..’ he is saying #t #rose & thorn

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kinkandkreep · 11 months

Text

𝑨/𝑵: 𝑯𝒆𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒚'𝒂𝒍𝒍! 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 2 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝑴𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆! 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚.(ᵔ.ᵔ) 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚'𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚❣︎ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵇᵒᵈʸ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ˡᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵖᵃⁿⁱˢʰ ᵗᵒʷᵃʳᵈˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵈ ⁱˢ ᵒᶠᶠ.

♡︎ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 1 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

♡︎ 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙼𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝙾'𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

♡︎ 𝙲𝚆: 𝚂𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍/𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚢

♡︎ "__" 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎

.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・゜-: ✧ :-.・ ✧ :-.・゜

When you awoke the next morning, it was to the enticing smell of blended spices. You could pick up the basics, like paprika and pepper, but also something more unique, like turmeric and dill.

You inhaled deeply, a smile curling your lips at the warm, fragrant scent. It was…comforting.

And then you remembered where you were.

‘Wait, I’m at Gigi’s. He can cook? Well, I suppose he does live alone and would need to know how.’

Shrugging to yourself, you stand, stretching until you hear several small pops sound from your back. With a quiet yawn, you made your way back into the en suite, going once again through your oral hygiene routine and splashing some water on your face to help you wake up. You check to see if Miguel has the room stocked with any facial cleanser, and finding there is none, you grab a clean washcloth and give your face a thorough, albeit gentle scrubbing.

With that done, you shuffle your way back down the hall and around the corner into the kitchen, pausing at the sight that greets you.

Miguel stands with his back to you, broad back bare and thick muscles shifting beneath tawny brown skin. He moves about the kitchen with practiced ease, picking and replacing ingredients as he goes.

You notice there are two plates already set out, each with an empty glass and cutlery to accompany it.

Smiling to yourself at the domesticity of it all, you begin approaching, only to realize that Miguel is apparently speaking to someone.

“Yeah, she’s here. Showed up last night bruised up pretty badly. Said she got into a fight with some thugs. She suspects they were using Lazarus. Perhaps this epidemic is becoming worse than we originally thought.”

Quietly taking a seat at the island, you continue listening, curious to see what else Miguel might say.

“I suppose so. We’ll have to be more vigilant.” He’s silent for a moment as the other person speaks. “Alright, well if that’s all then. Let me know of any further developments.”

Once his call has ended, Miguel sighs, pausing in his movements momentarily before turning.

“Good morning,” he greets, a little grin curving his lips.

“Good morning,” you respond with a little smile of your own, slightly surprised that he’d apparently heard you.

“I made omelets. I wasn’t sure how you liked yours, so I just added basic seasonings, cheese and flank steak.” He turns to lift the pan, sliding the steaming omelet out and directly onto your plate.

“I figured the extra protein would do you good. Contributes to accelerated wound healing, and all that.”

He turned back to the stove, speedily cracking six eggs and adding extra ingredients and spices into his own omelet.

You decided to wait until he was finished to begin eating, finding yourself content to just watch him move. As you watched him, your mind began to wonder.

‘How nice it would be to have this all the time.’

You jerked slightly at the sudden thought. Where had that come from?

The more you thought about it however, the more you leaned into the notion.

How nice it would be indeed, to have a sexy man make you breakfast every morning.

You giggled at the thought, causing Miguel to hum curiously.

“Something funny?”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Oh nothing, just had a thought.”

Miguel hummed again, turning to dispense his own finished omelet onto his plate. Just before sitting, he poured himself a cup of freshly pressed coffee.

“Coffee or orange juice?” He presented both options to you.

“Hmmm…orange juice.”

Nodding, Miguel filled your cup, placing the still mostly full pitcher on the counter in front of you. Taking his seat, the two of you began to eat in comfortable silence.

The rain had since stopped, and the sky was a little overcast. This high up there weren’t many birds, but you could inevitably still hear the sounds of the city far below.

“Gigi, can I ask you something?”

The man paused, curiosity swirling in his red irises. He’d stopped mid chew, leaving his cheeks adorably puffed. You laughed yet again at the sight, missing the way Miguel’s expression softened at the sound.

“Yes?”

Stifling your remaining giggles, you leveled Miguel with a more serious look.

“About last night-”

“Ok, I’m not sure how much you remember, but I can assure you we didn’t have sex.”

Your eyes widened, blinking once, twice, before collapsing into another fit of raucous laughter.

“No, I know that Gigi. I was bleeding, not concussed. Thankfully.”

Miguel sighed, setting his fork down on his plate.

“Ok good. So, what about last night?”

You took a moment, considering your words carefully. You didn’t want to startle Miguel into closing off, but you needed to get a straight answer.

“Um, well, I heard you talking to Lyla last night.”

Miguel’s eyes began to widen, and you quickly threw up your hands, waving them in front of you.

“No no no! Just wait. Before you shut down on me just…let me finish, ok?”

Silently, Miguel nodded, gaze still focused in on you.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you continued. “I heard you say that you didn’t know if I “felt the same way” about something.”

Meeting Miguel’s eyes, you steeled yourself. “What did you mean by that?”

The man was quiet, almost unnervingly so as he just stared at you. You squirmed almost imperceptibly in your seat, trying not to appear intimidated.

After quite a few moments, Miguel sighed yet again, and he averted his gaze.

“Ah mierda. I was really hoping you hadn’t heard us.” His eyes were closed, until they snapped open and he turned to you, narrowed crimson gaze sharp and scrutinizing.

“You were eavesdropping?”

Having been caught, you looked away, scratching your cheek nervously. “Sorta, yeah. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Rolling his eyes, Miguel turned his body towards you, propping his elbow onto the island and his head onto his now raised hand.

“Hmm, how do I say this?” Miguel's expression was pensive.

“After you showed up last night, all injured and bloody, it made me start thinking.”

You listened quietly, the beat of your heart beginning to pick up speed.

“What we do is dangerous. Being vigilantes- heroes, whatever- does not come without risk. I know I don’t have to tell you this, but this is honestly what was on my mind.”

He paused again, and you took the opportunity to speak.

“It wasn’t so serious Miguel. Just some contusions and a few scrapes.” You tried to downplay your injuries, but realized that was the wrong move as Miguel’s expression hardened.

“Maybe to you, __. But what if it hadn’t just been some “contusions and scrapes?” What if those thugs had broken your ribs, or given you a serious head injury and left you unconscious or…or worse?”

Though you knew he didn’t mean to sound condescending, a part of you couldn’t help but feel like Miguel doubted your abilities. This irritated you, and you scoffed, arms folded across your chest defensively.

“What, you actually think I would’ve let that happen? Shows just how much faith you have in me huh?”

Miguel’s stare narrowed once more. “You know that’s not what I meant, __.”

“Well that’s what it sounded like, Miguel.” You missed his visible wince at the emphasis you put on his birth name.

Sighing, you stood, moving to the sink to rinse your dishes, then placing them in the empty dishwasher. Turning back to Miguel, you approached the opposite side of the island where you now stood, leaning your upper body against it.

“Look Gigi, I understand what you’re getting at. What we do is dangerous. But that’s why we have the abilities we do, right? I can’t say with certainty that last night was a one off occurrence. If I continue down this path, I’m sure there’ll be plenty more fights and injuries and lots more blood to accompany them. But it’s ok. I know better than to get myself killed. And I don’t do this just for the fun of it. It’s my duty to protect. And it’s one I take very seriously.”

You reached out, placing a comforting hand on Miguel’s shoulder.

“Besides, I couldn’t leave my favorite guy behind, could I?” You smile brightly at him, eyes slipping closed. Your hand instinctively moves up, gently tussling Miguel’s hair.

With your eyes closed, you don’t see Miguel’s soft, fond smile, or the way his eyes slightly mist over.

Your eyes open when you feel him stand to his full height, and you blink up at him questioningly.

“Gigi?”

He doesn’t respond, instead his breathing begins to pick up, and you worry he’s on the verge of a panic attack.

“H-hey, Gigi! Are you ok? Do you need-...”

“I love you, __.”

You freeze, your entire body taut with shock. Miguel spoke so calmly, and you can feel heat blooming in your chest.

“Y-yeah. Love you too,” you playfully punch his arm, tone awkward. “Bro.”

Miguel grabs your hand from his arm before you can move it away, instead bringing it to rest on his chest, right over his heart.

“No, __. I mean I love you. And I know it’s sudden, but I’ve been contemplating this for quite some time.”

He steps closer to you, releasing your hand. You unconsciously keep it on his chest, feeling the calming rhythm of his heartbeat.

With both hands free, Miguel lifts them to cradle your cheeks, staring into your eyes intently.

“You’re right, I was talking to Lyla about you last night. She was trying to convince me to be honest about my feelings with you. I thought at the time, I didn’t have it in me just yet, and right then wouldn’t have been appropriate anyway. But, I’m sort of glad you did bring it up, because now I can more easily tell you how I truly feel.”

Your lips have been parted this whole time, so entranced you were by Miguel and his words. You finally move your hand, now bringing both yours up to wrap around Miguel’s wrists.

“Miguel-...”

“Ssshh.” He playfully shushes you, repeating your words back from earlier. “Just let me finish, ok?”

You nod, waiting for him to continue.

Once he feels you won’t interrupt, Gigi sighs, shaking his head.

“I may have seemed calm then, but seeing you last night in the state you were in sent me into an internal state of panic I don’t think I’ve felt before. Rage also built up in me, so angry I was at the thought that someone put their hands on you in such a way.” Miguel needed to take a deep breath, as he could feel the anger beginning to creep up again.

“But I realized it was par for the course of being a hero, and me lashing out and being irrational would do you no good.”

At this point, Miguel backed away, guiding you towards the couch. You sat facing each other, knees bumping and eyes still locked.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, I know that I love you, __. But I’m so afraid to give my heart to you for fear that you’ll be snatched away from me one day. I don’t think I could handle something like that.” He placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing gently. “It would feel like a part of me was missing.”

The man choked on the last few words, and you were taken aback as tears began slowly trickling down his cheeks. Snapping out of your reverie, you quickly leaned forward, tenderly wiping the tears away with your thumbs.

“Hey, hey. It’s ok.” You cooed. “Thank you for telling me how you feel.”

Miguel nodded, trying to meet your eyes through his tears. You smiled at him, feeling something warm and fuzzy spread through your chest.

“To be honest with you Gigi, I…have a little crush on you myself.”

At that, the man perked up, eyes widening. “You do?”

You nodded, feeling a bit bashful now. “I wasn’t going to say anything either, for fear of how you might receive me. But, I’m so glad that now we’ve gotten the opportunity to air everything out.”

You gave him an adorably crooked grin.

Gigi didn’t respond immediately, his eyes focused on your lips. Without making eye contact, he spoke.

“I hope this doesn’t seem too forward, but…can I kiss you?”

You were stunned for only a moment, before that grin morphed into a genuine, warm smile.

“Yes Gigi, you’re welcome to kiss me.”

The end of your sentence was a bit muffled by Miguel’s lips crashing into yours. The kiss was prolonged, a sensual dance of tongue and buried feelings being brought to the surface. Miguel tasted like warm spice, courtesy of his omelet from earlier, but also something dark and sweet.

You found yourself quickly becoming addicted.

Lips still entangled, Miguel lifted you by your waist, sliding you into his lap as he rested against the back of the couch. Your hands found themselves tangled in his messy chestnut locks, pulling slightly on instinct.

You were surprised by the low growl that sounded from Miguel, and for a second you worried you’d done something he didn’t like.

“Pull my hair more.”

Unwilling to displease your new beau, you did as asked, very pleasantly surprised when the kiss became more intense as a result.

The two of you stayed that way for quite a few minutes more, each simply savoring the taste of the other.

Eventually, you were the first to pull away, giggling as Miguel’s lips desperately followed yours.

“Where’d you learn how to kiss like that?” You lifted a quizzical brow.

Miguel smirked. “I’d tell you, but then you’d probably want to kill me.”

Laughing, you nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Now sliding off of Miguel’s lap, you curled up next to him, one of his muscular arms moving to cradle you into his side.

“Soooo…”

He hummed. “So what?”

“We’re officially dating now right?”

Miguel looked at you from the corner of his eye, smiling after a moment. “Yes __, we’re officially dating now.”

You grinned happily, placing a peppy kiss on his cheek. “Good.”

It was quiet for a bit between you before you spoke again.

“I love you, Miguel.”

“Yo también te amo, mi cariño.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse

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vee-crytraps · 20 days

Text

Kiss Me More | Ch 2 | {Burning Down the House}

Chapter Summary: Coffee, tea and the third degree. It's breakfast time at Wayne Manor. AN: New to posting fics on Tumblr, feel free to read here or over on Ao3 under the username VenusCrytraps. Same bat time, same bat channel.

{Trigger warning/Themes Masterlist}

Jason is up first, long before most of the other members have gathered for breakfast. His hair is messy, but his face is clean shaven. He had elected to ‘forget’ his shaving kit back at his apartment in the East side in protest, but Alfred always made sure that Jason’s manor quarters had spares on spares.

Not one to waste the old mans effort, Jason saunters down the wide staircase in a nice shirt and black pants, with his jacket slung over his shoulder. He looks much more put together than usual, a self satisfied smirk on his face lingering from the memory of last night’s encounter.

Bruce eyes him from over his morning paper, watching Jason load proteins and even a few pancakes onto his plate. Everyone else just seems relieved that this holds the potential for a rare, drama-free morning, and greets him with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

You’re the last to arrive, well rested and robed, a modest nightgown peaking out from underneath. You greet everyone individually, even taking the time to ruffle an annoyed Damian’s hair and press a quick appreciative kiss to Bruce’s cheek.

Sitting down next to Jason, you begin to load up your own plate.

“Have some breakfast with your coffee,” You tease, watching as Tim pours himself what is no doubt his second cup since sitting down.

Spirits seem a little less lively than usual, considering this is the first breakfast you’ve had in a long time with all of your brothers in attendance. The silence eats at you. You hate being able to hear yourself think. And chew.

“Soooo,” You start, sliding your gaze across the faces of your seated family members. “How was patrol?”

“No Bat talk at the table,” Bruce reminds you. He doesn’t even bother to look up to scold you, and that kind of ticks you off. He turns the page. “Eat your breakfast.”

“Sir, yes sir,” You lift your fork in a mock solute, and your dad barely manages to grunt in acknowledgement. He’s clearly tired. You suspect he hasn’t slept much.

In comparison to usual, anyway.

Damian, on the other hand, is as eager as you are to fill the grating silence. Which would make you suspicious if you weren’t so desperate for some conversation. “What else even is there for us to talk about?” He questions, but it goes unanswered.

“I got somethin’.” Jason, ever eager to get you back for your stunt last night, decides it’s a good time to put the fear of god into you. “Noticed you were up late last night. Don’t know what business you had getting dolled up at seven PM.”

It’s difficult to glare and chew at the same time, you realize. Choking, you just barely keep yourself from stomping on his toes. Retaliation is an admission of guilt, you remind yourself, forcing your shoulders to relax as you took a long, slow sip of your orange juice. Maybe if you don’t dignify it with a response, it’ll blow over.

Damian is the first to catch on. He stops eating and looks up at you.

“You stayed up for a date?” Damian asks.

You choke again. It’s more embarrassing this time. Your father clears his throat, but seems to still be reading.

“What? No way.” Just roll your eyes. Lean back in your chair. Look relaxed.

If anything that brings more attention your way. It was not to your advantage that every other person at this table were seasoned detectives.

“This is really embarrassing for you.” Tim informs you, at the bottom of that second cup of Café Bustelo. Maybe his next cup will stop his heart. That would totally draw attention away from you.

“Since when did you guys start being so nosy,” You tease, but man, the tension in your shoulders gets worse. Your fork cuts your toast into the crude shape of a throwing star, and you chuck it at Damian limply. It doesn’t even make it across the table.

“Since you started acting suspicious,” Damian says with a matter-of-fact tone in his voice. His eyes flash towards you, and leans forward to rest his elbows on his table. “Who was he?”

Bruce turns a page. “Damian.”

"Tt," Huffing, Damian loads your shitty bread weapon onto his fork and flings it back at you, his face unchanged. “It was obvious a guy. So who was it?”

You gaze slips to Bruce, hoping he’ll interject again. He doesn’t.

Okay, you think to yourself. Any more denial and it’ll start to be a little too stupid and obvious. If you gave them an inch, maybe you won’t have to reveal that Jason lent you nine.

“Oh, you know,” A laugh escapes you, and you pour yourself some of Tim’s jet fuel. “I was just…socializing. You should try it sometime.”

That’s good. A half-truth, mixed in with a little good natured sibling teasing. Maybe there was hope for you after all.

“With who?” Tim pipes up again, his curiosity clearly piqued. “Anyone we know?”

“Come on, whose the mystery guy? Can we meet him?” Dick adds, shifting forward.

“Yeah, Baby Bat,” Jason bears a wicked grin. He’s got his revenge and more, and you wonder if he trusts you to navigate this situation without getting the two of you caught, or if he just doesn’t care. “We just want to make sure he’s worth your time.”

He’s kind of getting off on this. Seeing you, sitting next to him in your little rich girl pajamas, your dad at the head of the table none the wiser. There was no way he would have believed you were a ball of sexual frustration under those frills had he not seen it with his own eyes last night.

“What’s with the third degree? I didn’t realize I was on trial.” You toss your hands up in the air in mock defeat. And real defeat, now that you think about it.

This ship was sinking fast. Time for a diversion tactic. “What about you, Tim? Any hot dates recently?”

Tim grins widely, taking in pleasure in seeing you crack. They must be on to something. Even you couldn’t pretend to be this bad at lying. “I can neither confirm or deny.” He burns the new dialogue tree to the ground before you can turn anyone else’s attention away from this brutal line of questioning.

Damian huffs once more, lacing his fingers together. The look on his perfect, beautiful face would otherwise suggest that he’s bored, but you know it’s far from true when you meet his gaze. He’s got that investigator stare, and if there was somehow any doubt in your mind that he was Bruce’s blood, it was quickly blitzed. “You should just tell us. You know we will find out.”

“Yeah, BB. It’s in your best interest.” Leaning back in his chair, Jason tosses an arm over the back of yours, sipping his orange juice with wicked amusement. This could not have been less in your best interest. His too, actually.

“Oh, whaaat?” You quickly stand, your chair shooting backwards and nearly causing Jason to drop his glass. It would have served him right, but every once in a while gravity favored him despite his size.

“You know what? I totally hear my phone ringing. I’m gonna go take care of that, but like, I’m so happy to do this another time.” You’ll pencil them in for after the apocalypse. “See you at the gala!” You head upstairs, genuinely not planning to emerge from the safety of your room until it was time to go.

You think you’re in the clear until you hear Damian’s chair push back, and then you start taking the steps two at a time. Damian warms to the thrill of a physical chase, watching you bound up the stairs like the prey animal you are.

It’s cute, really. That you think a pair of solid oak doors would stop him from dragging you for information. There wasn’t a thing in this house he didn’t know, and you were soon going to be made aware of that.

#v.fic #batfam x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you

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