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edenesth · 4 months

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The Way to His Heart [6]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 5 | Fic Masterlist | Part 7

"Please enjoy your meal, master and mistress. We hope the dishes are to your liking." The servants bowed before leaving the hall after serving dinner for the night.

Sitting up straight, hands folded on your lap, you patiently awaited Seonghwa to begin eating. The enticing aroma of the dishes made your mouth water, and your eyes gleamed as you observed your husband's hands reaching for his chopsticks.

He noticed your gaze, smiled, and rather than taking a piece of meat for himself, he surprised you by placing it in your bowl instead, "Eat up; you must be hungry."

The general sighed as he saw you hesitating to start eating until he had taken the first bite. Amused, he set down his chopsticks and watched as you slumped in your seat, seemingly disappointed that he hadn't begun eating yet.

"Why are you still sitting around? Go ahead and eat," He said, and your eyes widened, "But, my lord, how can I—"

Shaking his head, he picked up his spoon and reached for a tofu dish he had noticed you eyeing for some time, scooping up just enough before holding it to your lips, "Here, you want this, don't you?" Before you could protest, he pushed it closer to you, "Open up before I change my mind," and you couldn't resist, taking a bite.

Eunsook couldn't help snickering into her fist as she witnessed the adorable interaction. You chewed cluelessly on your food, eyes sparkling as you savoured the flavour, while Seonghwa continued to eat with the same spoon, indirectly sharing a kiss with you.

Throughout dinner, your husband focused more on taking care of you, he filled your bowl with a variety of dishes and wiped the corners of your lips whenever your excitement caused a mess. After finishing his own meal, he continued to watch you with admiration as you kept eating.

Concern crept in when he noticed your movements slowing down, and you started breathing rather heavily. It seemed like you were already full but were pushing yourself to eat more, "Hey, slow down. Are you full? You need to stop eating if you are."

You shook your head, reaching for another slice of rolled omelette. Furrowing his brows, he realised you were struggling to swallow. Why were you continuing to eat if you were already so full? It was as if you didn't know when your next meal would be, and you were trying to consume as much as possible for the time being.

"Stop, stop," He repeated firmly, gently holding your wrist and taking the chopsticks from your hand, "Look at me," You took your eyes off the food and finally met his gaze, "Are you afraid you won't get to eat again?" You avoided eye contact and that confirmed his suspicion, it broke his heart to see you still in survival mode.

Feeling like you had done something wrong, you bowed your head and nervously fiddled with your fingers, "I-I'm sorry... I just have never had a proper meal like this before, a-and..."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," He assured, moving to hold your hands and rubbing his thumb over your skin comfortingly, "You're the mistress of this estate now. You can eat anything you want at any time. All you have to do is call for the servants, and they will serve you. As long as I live, you never have to worry about not being able to eat again, you hear me?"

You nodded, moved by the sincerity in his tone and the warmth in his touch and gaze, "I understand. Thank you, my lord."

However, he seemed unsatisfied with something you said, contemplating for a moment before murmuring, "Seonghwa. Just Seonghwa, please."

Your eyes widened, "Wh-what?"

He looked away from your questioning gaze, embarrassed, "You're my wife now, there's no need to be so formal. Just call me Seonghwa from now on."

"Okay... S-Seonghwa." You muttered unsurely, suppressing the blush on your cheeks as he lifted his eyes to stare at you in wonder.

Little did you know, the sound of his name coming from you melted his heart, further deepening the growing affection he had for you. Though it had only been a day or two since he met you, and despite his initial misguided disdain, once he learned the truth about you, an irrational desire to protect you took root within him. For the first time in forever, he found someone worth caring for.

As much as the head maid enjoyed watching the two of you exchange deep gazes all night, the rest of the servants in charge of the dining hall were waiting to clear up and get some rest.

With a loud clearing of her throat, she finally broke you both out of your little staring contest, "Master, mistress, are you finished with dinner? It's getting rather late now, we should probably make haste and clean up the hall before we attract all sorts of insects."

Suddenly remembering that you weren't alone in the hall, the general swiftly collected himself from his slightly flustered state, "Of course, send the maids in. Is the mistress' new quarters prepared?" He checked with Eunsook, moving to help you out of your seat with your hand still in his.

The elderly woman, with a concealed smile, nodded and bowed, "It is, master. I'll leave it to you to show mistress to her room then."

You waved to her as you followed your husband out of the hall, "Thank you for the food, Eunsook. Please tell the kitchen staff they did a wonderful job; every dish was incredibly tasty!"

She nodded with a beam, bowing again, "Yes, mistress. They'll be happy to hear that."

Leading you along, Seonghwa made an effort to appear composed, attempting to hide the joy he felt from walking with your hands intertwined. The passing servants were surprised at the rare sight of their master and mistress walking hand in hand. As they bowed, their smiles widened when you waved at them, and the general's soft chuckle didn't escape their notice.

It amused them how resolute he had initially been about getting rid of you, and now he seemed to have a hard time tearing his eyes away from you for even a moment.

"Come on, you'll love the new quarters," He said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You raised your eyebrows, "But what about my previous room? That was fine too."

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly at the sudden reminder of The Cold Palace, "Well, I may have broken the door, but that's not the point. The point is that you are now officially my wife, and Lady Park deserves nothing but the best, understood?" You nodded, simply feeling grateful for everything.

"We're here. Welcome to the House of Lotus."

Your jaw dropped at the sight of the beautiful private garden surrounding what was to be your new quarters. A pavilion on the right of the main chamber faced a small pond filled with lotus flowers, "You can relax over there, have some tea and read when the weather is good. This is all yours. If you ever need me for anything, I'm just down the path; we're practically neighbours."

The general panicked when he saw your eyes welling up with tears, releasing your hand to grasp your shoulders, "D-do you not like it? We can arrange a different one for you if you want—"

Shaking your head, you sniffled, "N-no, it's not that. I j-just can't believe this is really all mine. Th-thank you so much, Seonghwa..."

He breathed out in relief, pulling you into his arms as you cried into his neck, "What did I say, you silly girl? Only the best for you." He gazed around in satisfaction; he had intentionally requested his maids to arrange the room closest to his private quarters, wanting to be near you.

Aside from that, the abundance of lotus flowers in this specific area earned it the nickname House of Lotus. Known for its connection with purity, rebirth, and divinity, the lotus flower symbolises rising from a dark place into beauty and rebirth, mirroring its growth process. This was precisely what the general had envisioned for you—a metaphorical representation of new beginnings and a fresh start.

"Master, we have come to prepare mistress for bed. Do we have permission to proceed?"

"Of course, I'll leave you to it then." Your husband had no choice but to leave you as the group of servants assigned to you for the night arrived, hands carrying bath supplies, Yunho's prepared ointment for your wounds, and a fresh piece of nightgown.

"Have a good rest tonight, my dear. We're paying the dressmaker a visit tomorrow; we're getting you new clothes." He pressed a firm kiss onto your head and did not leave until he was sure you had entered the room, reluctantly heading towards his study to wait for updates from Jongho.

Reaching for the Jang family records he had hidden from you earlier, he got back to work. With the week off granted by the King for him to celebrate his wedding, Seonghwa was determined to gather as much intel as he could before setting his plans into motion, "Just you wait, minister. Savour the peace while you still can."

Just when the general believed he had prepared himself to learn the extent of the abuse you had endured throughout your life, he managed to keep his rage in check as he listened to the harrowing details. However, nothing could have prepared him for the new revelation that his aide brought to him.

His disgust for the Minister of Military Affairs, already intense, reached new heights with the secret he had just uncovered. The assistant bowed his head as his master broke into a grin of disbelief, "And here, I thought I was labelled the heartless monster. Clearly, the minister is the rightful owner of the title."

Pointing towards the copy of your family records on his desk, Seonghwa inquired, "What about this? Have you been able to confirm the suspicions I have about those three she-devils?"

Jongho shook his head, "Not yet, sir. We'll need evidence to prove your theory; we might have to dig deeper. Just getting someone to talk about it might not be sufficient for your plan to succeed."

The general nodded, "It's alright, Jongho. We still have some time. So long as we have that piece of evidence before I return to work next week, is that doable?"

After a brief moment of contemplation, his aide replied, "Yes, I think that should be enough time. If that is all for now, I'll be taking my leave, sir."

"Thank you, Jongho. You may go."

Left alone with his thoughts, your husband resisted the urge to run to you immediately. He felt so angry for you that he could almost cry. The depth of your suffering was unimaginable to him, and all he wanted was to embrace you, shield you from the harsh and cruel world, and erase the pain and traumatic memories.

Clutching the book with your family crest, he glared at your father's name, imagining all the ways he could take the old man out.

I promise you, my dear. I'll make them pay.

At the same time, he couldn't stop beating himself up for the way he had treated you on your first day here. His heart ached as he recalled you travelling this far all on your own, only to face continuous mistreatment from him. Even if you had already forgiven him—you weren't even angry at him in the first place, you had to be crazy for that—Seonghwa would never forgive himself for his actions. He would be spending the rest of his days trying to make up for it.

That night, he experienced another restless bout of sleep, tossing and turning as the endless imagined scenes of you being tortured, starved, and treated like cattle haunted his mind. At some point during the night, he couldn't resist the impulse and walked over to your quarters, standing by the entrance like a fool, contemplating whether he should knock.

But he quickly realised that you must not have had any decent rest for who knows how long, and here he was, on the verge of disturbing you just because he couldn't sleep. Gosh, how selfish could he be?

He trudged back to his own room, trying to focus on the thought of you being soundly asleep in your new and comfy bed. Thankfully, this image managed to bring a smile to his face, and just like that, he gradually joined you in dreamland.

"Good morning, mistress! We're here to help you get ready. May we please enter?" Your eyes fluttered open as Eunsook's voice reached you, and a yawn escaped your mouth after having what felt like the most amazing sleep for the first time in years.

You were tempted to hop off your bed and rush to open the door for them, but then you remembered you weren't supposed to do so. Clearing your throat, you answered politely, "Yes, you may enter."

The servants bowed, unable to hide their smiles upon seeing you sitting up on your bed, still marvelling at the grand interior of your new room despite having already spent one night there.

Unbeknownst to you, the maids had been competing to be chosen to serve you. In just your third day here, you had become the most precious figure in the entire estate, and everyone wished to work under you. This particular group of maids had been selected, and their excitement was palpable as they enthusiastically bathed, dressed, and fixed your hair and makeup for the day.

On the other hand, the less fortunate few found themselves assigned to prepare the general for the day. Especially now, with Jongho, the only one capable of handling Seonghwa, engaged in special duties elsewhere, they had no choice but to put up with their master, even as their hearts yearned to be in the House of Lotus.

The morning unfolded with remarkable ease, thanks to your presence. Your husband proved more manageable than usual, his typical grogginess dissipating as he witnessed your excitement over breakfast. It made him both happy and sad—happy to see you so easily satisfied but sad at the realisation of the deprivation you had endured. Your genuine appreciation for even the most basic necessities was a testament to your difficult past.

Repeatedly, he had to remind himself that your history was just that—history. There was nothing he could do to alter it. But he was your present and future, and he would do everything to ensure you had nothing but the best moving forward.

Having already provided you with the best quarters on his estate, the next step was to adorn you in the finest clothes in all of Joseon. Whether or not you arrived with clothing from your old home was irrelevant to him; he would have burned every piece of it to the ground regardless. His goal now was to ensure that, at first sight, everyone would recognise you as the esteemed and beloved wife of the terrifying General Park.

Waiting for you by his carriage, he was not disappointed by your reaction to the vehicle as he assisted you inside. Your eyes widened, and your jaw fell in astonishment as you took in the spacious interior. Usually, he kept the carriage's small windows closed, but anticipating your excitement, he left them open. A subtle smile played on his lips as you gazed in awe at the passing scenery.

Cute.

The dressmaker's shop was situated in the middle of a lively street in town, requiring the two of you to cover the remaining distance on foot while the carriage and its coachmen awaited your return. Accompanied by two servants trailing closely behind, the four of you began making your way through the bustling crowd.

While Seonghwa found himself irritated by the unending stares drawn by both of your extraordinary visuals, your attention was captivated by the surroundings.

This marked your first visit to the town, evident from your childlike fascination, a source of amusement for the observing servants who shared delighted giggles. Throughout the journey, your husband ensured a tight grip on your hand, apprehensive about the possibility of losing you in the busy crowd.

The commoners, oblivious to your identities, continued their activities nonchalantly. Little did they know they were looking at the famous General Park and his new wife. If your true status were known, the street might have cleared within seconds.

Growing weary of the continuous gazes, the general promptly guided you towards the shop he intended to visit.

Upon entering, you were captivated by the array of colourful and elegant hanbok on display. The servants remained close by, engaging in lively discussions about their preferred designs. Typically, Seonghwa would disapprove of his employees being so casual around him, but witnessing the joy on your face as you excitedly joined in on their conversation, he couldn't bring himself to reprimand the two maids. Sighing, he moved further into the establishment, searching for the owner.

Spotting the familiar back hunched over work at the rear of the salon, he couldn't help but roll his eyes before saying, "I still don't understand why you won't hire a helper. You could be robbed in broad daylight, for all we know. You weren't even aware you have a customer, being busy back here."

Turning around with a raised brow, the dressmaker countered, "You're wrong, Park Seonghwa. I didn't bother heading out because I knew it was you. That's how good I am, and that's why I don't need to spend unnecessarily on a helper."

Before the general stood an old friend from his early military days, one who had decided the life of a soldier was not his path and had pursued his passion in fashion, "Yes, yes. It's nice to see you too, Kim Hongjoong. Good to know you haven't changed much."

The shorter man grinned deviously at his friend's sarcastic response, glancing at you, "Aye, I haven't. Unlike you, General Park."

Hongjoong set his tools down and continued, "Heard you finally got married, and I didn't believe it, not until today. That lovely woman over there, that's her, isn't it? She must be quite the special one for you to accompany her all this way. This isn't like you at all. The Seonghwa I know would never waste his time coming here."

If there was one thing your husband did not miss about his friend, it was his relentless teasing. He rolled his eyes again when it went on, "You know, I really thought I'd never get to see you again, but here you are, all because of her."

Seonghwa crossed his arms over his chest, "One more word from you, Hongjoong, and you can kiss this business deal goodbye. Don't come crying to me when I end up employing another dressmaker for all of my wife's clothing."

Jaws falling slack, Hongjoong exclaimed, "Hold on, did I hear that right? All of your wife's clothing?"

The general smirked, "Yes, you heard correctly. I'm hiring you for the long term, enough for you to shut down your shop and work exclusively for my estate."

Hongjoong chuckled, "Closing my shop might be a stretch, but a steady income is tempting. I'm on board. You have good taste, Seonghwa. I assure you won't regret hiring me. I'll make Lady Park the most beautiful woman in all of Joseon, mark my words."

"Excellent. I'm counting on it, Hongjoong."

As pleased as your husband was to have secured a reliable dressmaker for you, there are moments when he regrets such decisions. He experiences a sense of déjà vu as he observes you interacting with his friend, recalling the uneasy feeling he had witnessing your reaction to Yunho.

"My lady, it seems my task is already defined. Your beauty is already exceptional, and I'm afraid I won't have to work too hard to enhance it at all." Hongjoong has always been quite the charmer, and Seonghwa disliked that he was using it on you, his wife, of all people.

The blush on your face, as adorable as it was, irked the general at the moment, as he wasn't the reason for it. He watched, unamused, as the dressmaker smugly took your measurements.

Contrary to your calm and oblivious demeanour, the two maids were keenly aware of their master's internal fury, manifested in the glares he shot at his friend. They trembled at the thought of his wrath, unaware that Hongjoong was the only one audacious enough to tease the general without fearing severe consequences. The two had always shared what people termed a love-hate relationship.

Other than you, your husband and the servants felt a sense of relief once the dressmaker completed noting your measurements, checking your design preferences, and determining which colours suited your skin tone best.

"Alright, it looks like we're done for now. I'll do my best to deliver the first batch of dresses to your estate by next week. Is that okay?" Seonghwa softened as soon as he recognised his friend's serious and professional side, nodding quickly, "That sounds perfect. Thank you, Hongjoong."

The shorter man gave him a sincere smile, "No, thank you, Seonghwa. I mean it in a good way when I say you've changed. Your wife is lovely, by the way. I'll be seeing you soon, my friend."

As the four of you made your way out of the shop, the general's irritation resurfaced as quickly as it had dissipated just moments ago when Hongjoong sent you a flirty wink, "Have a safe journey back. I can't wait to see you again, Lady Park."

Cutting short your innocent wave, Seonghwa swiftly wrapped a strong arm around your back and guided you away, not missing his friend's annoying laughter, "Let's go; the carriage is waiting." He grumbled, jealousy and petty anger flooding his veins.

But those emotions vanished as soon as you both got into the vehicle, the rhythmic rocking motion lulling you into drowsiness. In your sleepy state, your head landed on his shoulder, and you whispered, "Thank you, Seonghwa. I had fun today."

He pulled you closer, ensuring your comfort, and pressed his lips against your hair.

"Anything for you, my wife."

« Preview of Part 7 »

"Can you all believe this? Just a few days into marriage, and the general has already sent word to His Majesty that he has an important agenda to discuss in our next assembly?" The minister guffawed, downing a glass of rice wine in amusement.

His wife grinned slyly, "Do you reckon it has anything to do with her?"

"Oh, I bet it has everything to do with her!" Jinah chortled.

"He must have been so disgusted by the sight of her bare from all that makeup," Jinhee shook her head before panicking, "Wait a damn minute, what if he asks to swap her for one of us?"

Jinjoo whined, "Father, you better not agree to that if it happens!"

"You silly girls, your father would never let any of that happen. Right, honey?" Their mother drawled, curling up to her husband seductively. The mere thought of your potential misery brought them satisfaction.

Minister Jang nodded, "Don't worry, girls. Knowing Park Seonghwa, he most likely would not entertain the idea or ask for anything like that. We'll just have to wait and see what he wishes to talk about. This should be interesting."

"That better be the case." Jinhee muttered, arms crossed.

Jinah smirked, "Or who knows, he's already disposed of her and decided the only right thing to do is to report it."

Cruel laughter echoed through the dining hall of the Jang estate as your family speculated on the possible whereabouts of your remains. None of them noticed the mole within their staff, attentively listening to every word.

I know you're all probably dying to know Minister Jang's secret but what fun will it be for y'all to find out so soon, am I right?😝 Not to worry though, I promise it'll all be revealed in due time.

Thank you so much for 900+ followers! As always, hope you enjoyed and let me know all your thoughts! <3

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#edenesth #the way to his heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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limarieb · 2 months

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i come around (when you least expect me)

Pairing(s): emo!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: After a one-night stand during a party, you find yourself in an odd gray area with your best friend's sister. It just so happens that your best friend's sister is also the person that has been making your life a living hell for the last few years... all without your best friend knowing.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, cursing, mentions of drinking/parties, high school au, Wanda lowkey kinda mean but i SWEAR its lowkey, non-graphic scenes of kissing/making out (no smut... yet...?)

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: sorry for my lack of posting, but i promised it would come soon(ish)! here's that 100 follower special i promised — oh, and thank youuuu all for the follows and support... i love you all <3 (title from 'heartbeat' by childish gambino) ... also, requests/asks are still open!

Main Masterlist | ao3 | Wattpad

...

Pain. Throbbing, aching pain. The discomfort from your current hangover surrounded every inch of your mind, physically and metaphorically. Well, almost every inch... because memories from last night were finally reaching the surface now that you have awoken, conscious and, unfortunately, sober.

The sweet lips on yours.

The feeling of skin, hot and sweaty, against your own.

The perfect dichotomy of soft hands on your body as they gripped at your skin roughly, almost primal in nature.

And they all belonged to your best friend's twin sister.

You started to get ready for the day — whoever talked you into attending a party the day before the school year began should be arrested and fined for such a disservice.

Thankfully, you planned enough ahead to bring clothes to the twins' house for today. The outfit you had chosen was relatively casual: the worn-down, navy blue sweater that had been your father's during his college years and the comfiest pair of jeans you could find.

Venturing downstairs to the kitchen, you finally felt the extent of how poorly your stomach felt due to the heavy drinking from the previous night. You opted for something easy, pulling the first box of cereal that your fingertips touched out of the cabinet. You never liked cereal too much, but anything went during difficult times like these.

As you poured yourself a bowl of the bland cereal, footsteps sounded throughout the house. They were coming closer and closer to your location. You assumed it had been Pietro.

You were... close — it was her.

When you looked up from the bowl to see who the person was, you were displeased to find the girl standing there, simply observing you with a smirk on her face. It reminded you of the villainous expressions from the television: conniving and mischievous.

"Stop staring at me like that," you sneered, trying to keep your volume low enough that Pietro would not hear you but loud enough that she would sense the harsh seriousness of your tone.

Wanda maintained her gaze, simply tilting her head as if to challenge you, "Like what?"

"Like you know what I taste like."

The faux innocence in her expression slightly faltered. Her eyebrows rose, the shock from your words evident on her face. As Wanda opened her mouth to form another witty remark, the sound of a door opening made the two of you go effectively silent. Wanda looked toward the direction of the sound, awaiting his entrance in a way that demonstrated her indifference toward last night's events. You, on the other hand, completely averted your gaze from both of the twins due to the shame that coursed through your veins.

The rational part of your brain begged for you to tell Pietro about what happened last night; it would resolve the guilt that clawed at you with each passing minute, lifting the weight off of your shoulders entirely. Yet, each time that you began to plan the exact words of your apology, any ideas you had conjured seemed to fall short. It was not as if you could search the internet for a script concerning "how to tell your best friend that you mistakenly (but not so mistakenly that you stopped it) hooked up with his emo, bitchy twin sister at a party."

Your eyes swiftly returned to Wanda, watching her inch closer to where you stood by the counter. She reached her arm behind you, leaning in close enough that your breath mingled with hers. If asked, you would completely and utterly deny that part of your mind was anticipating the vibrant feeling of her lips on yours again; however, the fleeting glance at her lips revealed otherwise.

Wanda noticed. Of course, you would fall into her trap, and she noticed. She smirked in response to your reaction before leaning away and taking a few steps back. A banana was in the hand that had been behind you. Scoffing at yourself, you cannot believe that you let her tease you again.

"See you at school, Y/N," she declared with narrowed eyes, looking you up and down once more before waltzing out of the front door.

You took a deep breath, attempting to recuperate your mind for the day ahead of you. As soon as Wanda had left, Pietro walked into the kitchen, ignorant of what had just occurred.

Standing still as if in a daze, you could only sense Pietro race around the kitchen, grabbing various items he needed for the day ahead. After a few minutes, he slowed to a stop after closing the door to the fridge. He must have sensed your unusual stillness, then he asked, “You okay? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You shakily nodded. “All good,” you forced yourself to stutter out. Not even you believed your words, but it seems as if Pietro was too busy in his own world to truly notice the lack of honesty in your reply. “I’m all good. Now come on, we’re gonna be late.”

The two of you scurried out the door in the hopes that you had not missed the bus. It was a bad habit that you both had been trying to break for years now but remained relatively unsuccessful.

As the two of you approached the classic, yellow school bus that sat on the corner of the street, Pietro raced ahead in order to save you the extra minute of running. He gracefully entered the bus, climbing its stairs with ease; meanwhile, you were audibly out of breath and tried to ignore the glances the bus driver gave to the two of you.

Pietro, like most mornings, found himself sitting with some of his friends from the cross country team, leaving you to fend for yourself. You quickly scanned the bus for an empty row so you could sit by yourself, but you quickly realized that was a luxury you could not afford after such a late arrival. While you could not find an empty row, you were about to find a single empty seat towards the back of the bus.

You shuffled your feet to the empty seat but stopped as soon as you noticed its other inhabitant: Wanda.

Bile suddenly formed in your throat at the thought of having to spend more time with her — more specifically, without her brother, your friend, and coincidentally the only person to keep her dangerous, spontaneous nature in check, present. You approached her, simply attempting to take the bus ride silently and one minute at a time. You swore to yourself internally that you would not respond to her, irrespective of whatever she may say or do.

The bus slowly pulled away from the stop and started its route toward the high school. For the first few minutes, everything seemed to be going unusually fine. Wanda sat silently beside you, wired earphones trailing from her phone to her ears. As her gaze remained fixed toward the window, you wonder if she had even noticed that a person had now occupied the seat next to her, let alone that person being you.

You naively took her initial lack of response as a victory. With a sigh of relief, you allowed your body to relax in the seat and closed your eyes for the remainder of the ride.

Then, you felt something.

The brush of something on your thigh.

You opened your eyes to scope the scene, making sure you had not imagined the sensation; however, it seemed to be just that: nothing. The only thing positioned in your lap was your backpack filled with your books for the upcoming year. You closed your eyes and began to drift away once again. Maybe you were going crazy, you pondered. (Maybe you could blame your irrational behavior last night on such insanity. Would the insanity defense work for things like that, too?)

Then, you felt it again.

Without much hesitation, your eyes shot open once more. Only this time, you were met with the sight of a hand, decorated with several rings and chipped, black nail polish, situated comfortably, almost possessively, on your upper thigh. You peered toward Wanda's face, which was still facing the opposite direction, attempting to gauge her reaction. Yet, you saw nothing; her expression was rather unchanged, leaving you more confused than anything.

Before you could think about what to do about the situation, the bus drove over a mountainous bump on the road. You internally cursed the local government officials for the obstacle, for whether it occur by accident or intention, Wanda's hand flew directly into the apex between your thighs. Eyes widened in shock, your lips drift open as you gasp from the sensation.

It finally gave you the courage, however, to shove her hand away, but not without seeing the signature smirk she acquired in the process. Anger began to boil inside you. You repeated to yourself that it was because the brunette's touches were unexpected — not that she had been victorious. In the end, you just silently thanked yourself that you had chosen jeans, or else that could have ended much differently knowing the Sokovian.

Days turned into weeks, each bringing the routine of snide comments and less-than-playful banter between you and Wanda. You still had not found a way to enlighten Pietro about your issues with his sister (both the endless torment and... that night), given that (1) she was his twin sister and (2) she always seemed to be around. The cynical part of your brain believed that her unusual proximity was purposeful — she probably just wanted to see the fallout.

While the two of you had not gone further than your typical banter again over the past few weeks, though, you still felt incredibly agitated. (You chalked it up to anger because it definitely could not be the possibility of pent-up sexual frustration between the two of you.)

However, one day differed from the rest.

You noticed early in the day that Wanda was being extraordinarily quiet. Part of you was thankful, praying that her silence would continue until the end of the school day.

It was a Thursday in late October. Like most days, you followed Pietro to his home after school, venting to him about how you were excited it was Friday tomorrow because you were simply over all of the midterms being assigned and just wanted time to relax.

(You continued to ignore the underlying guilt that sat in the pit of your stomach from remaining silent about everything that happened with his sister weeks before; you attempted to ignore it even more by rationalizing your silence, stating it was "only one time" and a "mistake that would never even happen again.")

As you entered the house, Pietro immediately drops his bag on the floor and runs up to his room. You rolled your eyes at this typical, teenage-boy messiness, and opted to place your bag on the hooks that Agatha designated for such items.

Feet padding across the wooden floors, you wandered into your happy place of the home: the kitchen. You opened the fridge, looking for a small snack that could satiate your hunger until dinner. Finding nothing of interest, you closed the door. Your body jumps, though, at the figure that had been hiding behind it: Wanda.

The patience you once had had officially worn invisibly thin.

“What the fuck, Wanda? What do you want from me?” you asked exasperatedly, the energy you once had for such shenanigans having become completely depleted after a difficult week of school. "Listen, I don't know what I ever did to you for you to treat me like this, but I'm over it."

“Are you…” She started but quickly cut herself off. Her head tilted, trying to figure out if you really did not know the answer. You noticed the way her mouth opened and shut out of pure bewilderment; while you normally would make a comment about it in an attempt to tease her in return, you figured now was not the time. When Wanda found no evidence of lies in your expression, she continued to speak, “You really don’t remember, do you?”

You threw your head back, a chuckle escaping from the back of your throat, primarily due to the exhaustion caused by this long-awaited conversation. “No, Wanda, I don’t remember! If I had, don’t you think I would have apologized by now! Don’t you think that maybe, just maybe, I would have given you an “I’m sorry” so we could have avoided all of this? So that I would not have to deal with your bullshit for the past decade? So tell me, Wanda, what did I do to deserve this?”

“First day of school. Second grade. Recess," she spat out. Her words were so quiet but uttered with such venom.

Your brows furrowed in confusion at the seemingly random series of words, "What?"

She rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated with your lack of memories. While you could not remember what made her act this way, it had evidently stuck with her for years.

"It was my first day at this school," she began, her expression turning from red, hot anger into a stoic and collected nature. "Pietro and I had just moved to the States after losing our parents a few months before. Agatha was the only family member, albeit a distant family member, who was alive and willing to take us. So, we left everything behind and moved here."

You already knew the majority of this information, mostly after hearing it in brevity from Pietro. He had never truly talked about his time in Sokovia in depth, finding it distressing and uncomfortable to recall. You only discovered this one day when you both were 9, and you had followed him to his house after school for a play date. In a state of innocent curiosity, you asked him why he called (what you had assumed to be his mom) by her first name upon entering the house. He explained the basics, and that was the end of that. You understood and respected his quietness on the subject since then.

"Pietro has always been the better twin — better at school, better at sports, better at making friends. And, I'm just... me. So, he has always been better at the whole 'socializing' thing, even as an immigrant child with little knowledge of the States. Everybody seemed to like him, I guess. I, on the other hand, refused to talk... well, for the most part, at least. Anyway, on the first day of the second grade, my first day of school here, I was sitting on the edge of the concrete, picking at the grass."

She paused her speech, shifting her gaze to meet yours. "Then, this girl approached me. I thought, 'Wow, maybe I will have friends, maybe I will have friends and will finally be like Pietro.'” Wanda shook her head, shutting her eyes as if to remember each minute, each second, of that fateful day. Her accent was unconsciously growing thicker by the minute. “So, I greeted them, introduced myself like our mama had taught, and asked if they would like to play with me. You want to know what she did, Y/N?"

She opened her eyes, locking them with yours in a harsh stare. "'You talk funny,'" she hissed. "That's what the girl had said before running back to her group of friends. Truthfully, it's not even that deep of an insult, but it somehow spread like wildfire how the 'new girl' was abnormal, how she couldn’t even talk normally, how she was dirty with her dirty shoes and probably had fleas from her even dirtier home country, how no one could touch her or else they would be 'infected' by her."

“Why are you telling me this?” you stuttered out. “What does this have to do with you being a complete and utter bitch to me for the past ten years?”

Wanda huffed, “That girl was you, Y/N.”

Every breath you had suddenly left your chest. Your eyes widened, unsure of how to respond, “What?”

“You say I made your life a living hell? Bullshit. You ruined mine. You have everything I have ever wanted: friends, good grades… parents,” she said, her tone becoming soft with insecurity toward the end. “You even got my brother, my fucking twin brother! For fuck's sake! And yet, you still had to ruin my life."

"Wanda, I'm..." you began, but all of the words you have acquired in your seventeen years of life were failing you. "I'm sorry. I- I don't..."

This time, Wanda laughed, but it was not the depressed, low chuckle like before. No, this was something else entirely, a burst of maniacal laughter that indicated an unfound level of absurdity. Your eyebrows furrowed.

"'You don't' what, Y/N?" the brunette taunted.

You decided to be honest with her, "I don't know what to say."

"Of course not. 'Little Miss Perfect' never knows what to say when she finds out she's not so perfect after all."

Your sympathy gradually faded to the original anger you had been feeling. Your eyebrow involuntarily quirked, "Hold on, now... I never claimed to be 'perfect.'"

“Oh, please,” she replied, belittling your attempts to argue her predetermined notion of you. She began to mock you, “My name’s Y/N. I have the best grades in the entire school, all my friends love me, and, at night, my parents tuck me into bed and call me their little princess…”

Slowly but surely, your vision turned red. You stepped closer to Wanda, hoping the proximity would deter her from making additional snide comments about you.

“We all have our shit, Wanda,” you sneered. “You better quit now before I give you a reason to.”

She scoffed, “Oh, really? What are you gonna do? Tell mommy and daddy I…”

Her words were cut short by the placement of your lips on hers.

Truthfully, you were unsure of why you decided that this was the best course of action; perhaps your brain was simply shut off by the rage coursing through your body. Yet, that confusion did not stop you from continuing. In fact, it did not hinder either of you from continuing.

The kiss was forceful, containing all of the emotions you both have felt since that fateful night. Her mouth pushed and pulled roughly against yours; you returned the energy just as much. There were no thoughts, no rationality, behind both of your actions — only pure lust and passion.

Your hands started at her jaw but slowly drifted upwards toward the roots of her brown, messy hair, gripping and tugging at the strands. Parting from your lips for the first time in what must have been minutes, she released a moan from the sensation and continued to drift southwards toward your neck. As her teeth scraped at your pulse point, you were finally brought back to the reality of the situation.

You used the hands that were still threaded within her hair to pull her away from your neck; although, neither of you immediately stepped away from the other. You took the opportunity of your closeness to note how swollen her lips had become, how hot she looked under the dimness of the kitchen lighting.

"What are we doing?" you mumbled into the open air, not exactly expecting a response from the Sokovian in front of you.

She remained quiet, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips. Her tongue darted out briefly, licking over her own lips in (what you assume to be, at least) preparation for more.

So, you seized the opportunity of her quietness to continue, "I'm not... I'm not perfect, okay? My parents... it's complicated. Sure, they're alive and whatnot, but... they don't care. Honestly, half of the shit I do — the grades, even — I do it so that they might finally pay attention. So, like I said, we all have our own shit to deal with."

Her lips parted, eyes stilled and staring into yours.

"And, l am sorry that that comment fucked you up as a kid. If I had known, even as a kid, I would've not said anything like that. I know I can't reverse time but..."

This time, her lips effectively ended your speech; however, the kiss was much softer than earlier, showcasing a newfound appreciation and, perhaps, feelings.

"I know," she acknowledged in a whisper after pulling away. "I'm... I'm sorry, too, by the way. I shouldn't have acted like that — it was cruel. We can talk more about it, about our... issues, later, but um- I just want to start over. Just us."

You nodded in affirmation, a blush flooding your cheeks.

"Just us."

The two of you sealed the agreement with a soft peck.

The sound of a glass shattering on the floor captured the attention of both of you, ending the kiss with the redirection of your heads in order to discover the culprit.

In the doorway of the kitchen, Pietro stood surrounded by broken glass splattered across on the wooden floor.

With widened eyes, you said the first and only thing that came to mind: "Oh, shi—"

End.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #limarieb wanda maximoff #limarieb #marvel imagines #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 2 months

Text

Paperwork

summary: While Price's injury is healing nicely, you're growing needier by the minute. But you're not the only one. With the doctors order in mind, you and Price attempts to stave your hunger by having you cockwarm him in his office.

pairing: cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine universe)

tags/tw: afab!reader, depiction of canon related injury, NSFW, mdni 18+ please and thank you, cockwarming, p in v, teasing, masturbation (f), unprotected sex, creampie, implied age-gap

a/n: Well, that little valentines blurb really helped to get the writing going🫡

Sunshine universe MASTERLIST & John Price MASTERLIST

Christmas passed just as slowly and cosy as you'd predicted, perhaps with one slight change of plans.

You'd returned home the night you'd dropped John from the hospital and helped him settle in somewhat. Despite debating whether to stay the night, your soldier urged you to head home to rest properly after spending so much time away.

You understood he tired of your company. In fact, he had a point, seeing how you wouldn't sleep soundly with him, constantly worrying if you would disturb his sleep by sharing a bed. And you needed a fresh set of clothes anyway. But you also noticed that being hurt took a toll on John. He'd accepted that you would be there to help him, but something told you he needed time to brood over the fact he was on med-leave for the upcoming months.

Once you returned to the flat you'd left in a hurry almost two days ago, you wandered aimlessly, trying to finish setting up your Christmas lights. However, whatever adrenaline the past 48 hours provided finally seemed to ebb, and you crashed on your couch shortly after finishing your task.

By the time you woke up again, it had been dark outside. Dinner that night hadn't been glamorous, partly because you didn't have any finished food in your fridge and partly because you were yet to be hungry from the late lunch you shared with John before leaving his place. Still, the bowl of instant ramen warmed the cold feeling settling in your body from merely looking outside your window and down at the snowy streets.

You slept in the next day, waking up with a warm body and nose slightly chilled from the cool temperature in your room. The rest of the day was slow. You checked in on John with a message around noon, accustomed to reaching out to anyone in your closest circle around that time, seeing how no one usually was up earlier on the weekend, even if John definitely didn't categorise as one of those. He'd given you the awaited broody reply, grumbling about a horrid night of sleep and a dull ache even after taking his prescribed meds.

You stared at his message for a minute until deciding to give him a call rather than answer it.

'Hell, love'.

'God, you really sound worse for wear', was your instinctive response as John greeted you with a rough voice.

'Cheers', he huffed in return, a groan following shortly after. At that moment, you rubbed your forehead, an ache settling in your heart at not being there with him.

'How about I come over today already? Christmas is approaching, and we already said we would celebrate together. Wouldn't hurt if I stayed with you in the upcoming days with your shoulder and all...', you trailed off at the end.

'Know you have no problem with it, but I don't want to take up all your time if you have other things planned', he responded tentatively. 'I've managed worse on my own'.

'Don't have to do it alone anymore'. You reminded him, and with that, he didn't argue.

'Pack your bags, then'.

And you'd packed your bags for a week. Although, by now, you'd stayed two, with the occasional trip back to your flat to swap out some clothes.

John's shoulder healed nicely, even if the process was arduously slow, but at least it meant his injury wasn't inflamed. God forbid you would've seen it like that. While you never counted yourself as squeamish, the first time you'd helped John rid himself of the bandages and the surgical tape that, for a seeable future, needed to be changing once a week, you also remembered that neither had you ever seen a freshly sewn-together wound.

His skin was a deep pink, and the sewn-together parts puckered and elevated from the surrounding areas. You almost shied from pulling the surgical tape the rest of the way when first laying eyes on the injury. Upon seeing the scrunch of your nose and worried glance up his face, John made you step back and do the rest, reassuring you it didn't hurt, just strained unpleasantly if he moved wrong.

While it may not have hurt while gently cleaning the wound the first time and that John now could go without the sling, it didn't mean you didn't notice the pull in his features when he did make a too-fast movement or a shift that pulled at the stitches and deeper-torn tissue. He's still instructed not to carry anything heavy, making you catch a grumble of 'a goddamn month more' as you passed by right before your name was called numerous times.

You didn't chide him from initially thinking he would manage on his own, but you both knew what the look you sent him implied and that his thank-you kiss was a silent acknowledgement that you'd been right. It would've been anything but enjoyable for him if you hadn't spent the past two weeks with him.

Even though only two weeks had passed, you quickly noticed John wasn't a man who could go long periods without doing anything. That didn't mean he couldn't take it easy. As he said himself, he'd learned that skill. But, reading so many books while having x amounts of scotches was only as enjoyable and appropriate as it could be to not count as light alcoholism. John was itching to do something more than sit idly around or keep you company during whatever you did.

So, it wasn't a surprise the first time you found him in his study a few days ago. He'd looked up from the papers with a caught-in-the-act look when you knocked on his study's door, the excuse of work piling up that he needed to look over leaving his lips instantly. You'd never been the one so strict about working when home; your free-lancing job was practically based upon it. Therefore, you'd waved his excuse away, padding into the office you'd barely set foot inside despite the many times you'd visited him.

You'd leant against the side of his desk, not more than casting a quick side-eyed glance on his computer to show you noted its presence but not the contents on the screen before your gaze sought his. Upon your curiosity of what it was, John indulged you in what he occupied himself with.

And just like that, John, who usually was so strict about not working when spending time with you, grew lenient on that rule of thumb, restlessness gnawing at his bones enough to slip away an hour or two each day to occupy his mind. But, you always saw him at the same times during the day, joining you on the couch in his living room or in his bedroom, hijacking the TV remote to follow the post-Christmas football matches.

You jokingly poked his side each time he did, commenting on how there were two TVs in his house if he'd forgotten. But you only got a quirk in his lip and wink in return as he proclaimed he needed to convert you into a fan, teasingly anchoring you to his side with a heavy arm if you threatened to escape.

But you both knew you didn't mind cuddling into his side with your head on his chest, following the matches of the day, only if he started getting too worked up when his team played and jostling your head around too much.

And that settled you into a new routine. While you busied yourself around the house, occasionally working a few days here and there, John watched football and occasionally retreated to his study. Although you left him to his work, he always left his door open, showing you it was free to enter if you desired.

Today was one of those days you did your separate things, not having seen each other much since the breakfast you shared, after which John left you with a kiss and 'know where to find me'.

It had been fine. It is fine. You'd gotten ahead of work for the new year, and John eased his workload gradually. And yet, glancing at your phone screen, you note lunch is overdue.

Sure, today had been slow. You and John had laid in bed for a while, basking in the last of the Christmas spirit the days between Christmas Day and New Year's Eve carried. And so, breakfast had been eaten later than usual, meaning lunch was also to be pushed forward. However, at half past one, John should've emerged from his office for a well-deserved break and shared the task of cooking something.

Putting aside your book, you move from the couch and wander outside the range of the fireplace's warmth. Its fire had long since burned out, and now the only parts glowing were the embering coals.

Your fuzzy socks act as a barrier between your feet and the cold wood beneath as you wander up the stairs. Despite the constant blast of radiators and the fireplace harbouring a non-stop fire, the floor always remains chilly when the temperature drops outside.

Much like the past days, the door to John's study stood ajar. But, compared to earlier, when you'd retrieved something from the bedroom, you didn't only pass it with a glance inside, finding John staring down at his computer with his injured arm resting in his lap as his other scrolled whatever he was going through. Now, you pushed the door open, locating him not behind his desk but seated in one of the two Chesterfield armchairs.

The edge of your mouth quirks upwards as you observe his upper body bent backwards over the low backrest, laptop resting in his lap, kept only from slipping by his hand. As you enter his peripheral vision, he glances in your direction. You offer him a warm smile as you close the distance, moving to stand behind the chair.

"How's it going?" You look down at the head tilted far enough backwards that John can watch you, albeit upside down, from where he sits. He grunts in response, eyebrows raising swiftly as he straightens.

You chuckle, hands that previously rested on the leather sliding to rest on John's shoulders, where you immediately dig your fingers into his muscles. He groans again, but this time, his head dips forward as you follow the tight tendons near his neck.

"That much to do?" You hum as you let up on the pressure, concentrating more on his uninjured side, following the muscles out to his shoulder, only to return and follow his spine to the back of his head.

"Not really". A harsh breath follows John's sentence when you find a knot along his neck and concentrate on easing it with your thumb. "The boys can manage, Laswell too, but whatever's possible to be pushed forward, they leave to me, meanin' things that need readin' through and cleared for the go-ahead".

"Imagine it ain't like that book I gave you", you muse, John only scoffing in return.

"Nothin' like it", he almost grumbles. "Would much rather cosy up with you and read that than this". He flicked the screen with his finger, a semi-metallic, semi-glass tick ringing from his action.

"You know very well you can drop work and cosy up with me and that book anytime you want. You're on leave". You remind him with a small smile, knowing he isn't really complaining.

With this being your first Christmas, you'd agreed to not spend too much on presents, even if you both had bought each other spontaneous gifts before, John being the culprit for spoiling you with expensive things much more often. While he'd gifted you a necklace he'd caught you looking at, you'd gotten him a book he mentioned wanting to read and a cigar to add to his collection. One, that at the moment, remained pretty stagnant as John refrained from having a smoke the first weeks of recovery. But you knew he itched for one, catching him eyeing the container he kept them in more than once.

"Hm, 'bout that", John's head lolled backwards, his gaze locking with yours. "Come here", he cocked his head, motioning for you to move around the chair. You did as he wished while he lodged his feet beneath the furniture's edge, moving the heavy armchair slightly backwards to allow you to stand between him and the low table.

With you now in front of him, John placed his laptop on the wide armrest, leaning forward shortly after. Concerning it being the closest, the hand of his injured arm slipped around your naked lower thigh when he sat forward, your oversized sweater ending just above his hand.

"Said here", John nods to his lap, pressing gently at the back of your leg.

"Your shoulder, John", you lightly scold his insistence, knowing where things would go if you ended up straddling him.

"It's fine". He insisted, tugging at your leg again. This time, you relented somewhat, stepping between his spread legs, the armchair's brown leather cool against your shins.

"The doctor told you to take it easy, let it heal." You reminded him of the instructions he'd received, but now, he scoffed at them.

With his head tilted to the side and displeased crease between his brows, his hand slipped down just an inch. The sudden tug as his fingers dug into the back of your knee took you off guard. It made your leg bend, and to not fall forward, your leg caught the excess seat beside his thigh as you caught yourself on the armrest to keep yourself steady.

You send John a look, as his stunt could've easily made you brace against his shoulder rather than the furniture. But he only cranes his head slightly as you hover over his self-satisfied self, a quirk bowing his lips.

"Takin' it incredibly easy, just you who's makin' me work hard for it". There's a glint in his eyes as his hands slide upwards, massaging the back of your upper thigh from how your dress-like sweater has ridden up somewhat, sneakily trying to urge you to settle entirely on top of him. Even so, you remain hovering.

"Missed you, love". You narrow your eyes at the change in his approach.

"Missed me or something else?"

"Both." John's answer is almost boyish in how a half grin stretches his lips and the cock of his head. You roll your eyes but can't withstand his request any longer, the butterflies in your chest never truly escaping when close to the man.

Climbing into the seat with as much grace as possible, you're mindful of his shoulder, bracing against the opposite side on the backrest to ensure you don't accidentally grip it for support. But the armchair is wide enough for your legs to comfortably slot on either side of his hips, and your hands slide to rest on his abdomen instead.

Now planted in his lap and more accessible to avoid straining his shoulder to reach for you, both of John's hands find purchase on your waist.

"That wasn't too hard, now was it?" He humours you with an arched brow as you shuffle in his lap to make yourself comfortable, only to feel something beneath you.

"No, but something seems to be". You tilt your head, alluding to the semi you slowly felt more prominently in his sweats.

"Haven't felt my girl in nearly a month. Can you blame me?" You shake your head with a huff through your nose, gaze cast down until it returns to his.

"Thought you were confident you wouldn't cave first".

"Never said that", John hums as he curves his back to make himself more comfortable in the armchair, making you settle more firmly over his crotch. "Although I remember you sayin' you could go the longest without a proper fuck". He dares you to deny it with a cock of his brows.

You roll your eyes but don't technically argue against him. "With how you are speaking, I could think you're growing desperate".

He clicks his tongue. "Can't guilt trip me for missin' your warm cunt".

"Jesus, John", you flush under his heavy gaze and crude words, enough for you to look to the side.

Fingers knock beneath your chin, quickly redirecting your attention back to him. Greeting you is a pair of blue eyes twinkling in intrigue. "So what you say, wanna keep me warm while I work?"

You eye him sceptically. John had figured you liked cockwarming him, the fact nothing hard to figure when you always pulled out the process of him slipping out of you as you caught your breaths in the aftermatch of whatever session had your body trembling and his clutching yours to anchor himself. But those times often happened after, not before.

"We're not fucking", you point at him.

"Keep still, and we won't". He chuckles at your muttered 'insufferable' as you rise to your knees.

John helps you as much as he can, stabilising you with his un-injured arm as you tug down the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers digging into the fabric of his underwear, feeling the hotness of his still not-fully erect member. He sighs as you pump his cock to bring him to full erection before pulling his length out, rubbing the tip against the fabric covering your cunt.

A warmth, a need, you hadn't felt in the past weeks blooms in your lower stomach.

Since his injury, you and John hadn't had sex. It might only be a few weeks, but having a mostly bare-chested, burly man like him walk around the house nearly every day because it was too tricky putting on a shirt did things to you, things which you repressed in favour of not pushing anything onto John that would strain his injury. Doctors orders.

But as you pushed your underwear to the side, how easily worked up you got whispers of a repressed desire, your slit wet without any proper foreplay, not more than the mere thought of finally feeling him inside you. Even so, you softly whine as you sink down onto him, the stretch as he entered not unfamiliar in comparison to unused to.

A drawn-out exhale escapes John as your tightness slowly swallows him, his hands falling to lift your shirt and simultaneously massage your hips.

"Just like that, love", his words are drawled as blue eyes follow how you inch your way down, having to work up and done with rolls of your hips take him after this long. "Just relax. You always take it so well". His praise makes you flutter around him, making your and John's breaths catch.

With a last shift, your thighs finally touch his, his cock buried to the hilt.

"Fuckin' hell so warm". You glance up at John, having his head notched backwards, lips slightly parted. Calloused hands slide up the smooth skin of your sides, outlining the curve of your hip, making your shirt ride up enough to show your stomach before it slides down again as his hands smoothened down your body again.

"Didn't you say you would work? Hard to do that while coping a feel". Your breathy comment brings John's head forward again, his eyes partly lidded.

"Only need one arm for that". There's a gentle tug in the corner of his mouth as he angles his laptop towards him on the armrest.

While propping his uninjured arm along the armrest, scrolling on the mousepad as he returned to the reading you previously interrupted, John's unoccupied hand gripped your hip as he brought you closer. The slight shift makes him move inside you, and your eyes flutter shut. Shit, this would be much harder than you'd anticipated.

In hopes it would distract you, you lean forward, nose knocking against the column of his throat. You inhale his scent, concentrating on how the typical aroma of rich cigar smoke is vacant from his skin with the lack of smoking.

John's unoccupied hand travels to the small of your back, fingers alternating between massaging your muscles and tracing light patterns against your skin.

Shivers run up and down every part of your body, unconsciously making you shimmy as the shudders reach your shoulders. Your shifting jostles him inside you, causing you to clench reactionary. John's chest heaves, indicating he definitely felt how you squeezed around him.

But he didn't say anything, not verbally, at least. He simply grabs a fistful of your asscheek until flesh spilt between his fingers. The silent scold forces you to resist rocking in his lap, only releasing a quiet whimper, burying your face deeper into the curve of his neck and shoulder.

You inhale to steady your breath.

The shower John took in the morning made his body wash more prominent. But he still smells of a certain alluring warmth, a musk simply describable as him, the one making you nuzzle against his bare upper body. You don't know whether to curse or hail him for not wearing a shirt nowadays, his nude chest distracting you somewhat from the delicious stretch and fullness of finally having him inside you. Until you knew it definitely did not help you.

As the hair dusted over his pectorals tickled against your lower chin and his beard against the upper part of your forehead, you ran your hands up and down his abdomen and chest.

Feeling the thick cords of muscle beneath a layer of fat that made him so deliciously big and broad clench beneath your fingers acts like a lighter to gasoline. Mental images of seeing those muscles work as he pumps himself into you fill your head.

You don't even notice how your hips begin to roll until a heavy hand clutches your side, swiftly preventing the motion.

"Be a good girl, hm?" You glance up at John, but he hasn't even angled his head to face you. His blue eyes simply remain fixed on the computer screen. Even so, you feel how the muscles in his neck flex, and a soundless chuckle shakes his chest.

You squeeze your eyes shut, face falling to hide against his neck again, but your attempt to remain calm has already failed as your mind supplies nothing but the filthiest scenes behind your eyelids. Grunting. Pistoning hips. Flesh grasped tightly.

You force an exhale, refraining from moving with any and all willpower in your fibres as you feel his girth throb inside you. You need a distraction. You need to distract yourself from thinking about how his cock fills you so well.

You start to mouth at his skin, light presses of your lips along his collarbone, trailing only far enough to his shoulder that you didn't aggravate his injury. When you once again reach where his clavicle met his sternum, you begin trailing kisses up his neck. You hum in delight, nuzzling against John's jawline, his beard tickling the tip of your nose. You felt him sigh, his chest pressing against yours before he exhaled through his nose.

God, you pliantly move with him as he shifts in his seat, attempting to find a more comfortable position by sliding down somewhat. But you can't help but momentarily dig your fingers into his abdomen as the slight stir pushes his hips against yours, forcing him deeper inside you. The sting of your nails makes his hips jump more erratically than when he'd shuffled just seconds earlier, and you can't stop a moan as you press yourself down into his lap. The only thought left in your mind is that you desperately need to move. Now.

Rocking your hips, you gave a quivering sigh, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his blunt tip hitting something so sensitive.

"Love", John's voice is even, hinting at nothing more than attempting to earn your attention. However, how his hand travelled from around your waist to your ass, angling your hips roughly in an arch so you were pressed, forced stationary, against his chest, spoke of something else.

When you emerge from his neck, with hands planted on his chest, his blue eyes lock with yours, and how he tilts his head causes a shiver to run down your spine.

"Said to sit still, didn't I?" A soft whine leaves your mouth, lower lip jutting out. "Only going to keep me warm, eh?" He tuts amusingly.

You huff as you catch the amusement in his voice. "You seem to like it".

"Not 'bout likin' it love, but seein' how strong that resolve of yours is", he hums, taunting words brushing over your lips

You could bare your teeth at that response, like a cat hissing at someone, even if they were petting them because they came close. John's cock was literally throbbing inside you, his hips shifting to get more comfortable, only to rock himself deeper into you, demanding, mocking you to do something about your predicament.

As if feeling your body tense, your frustration growing, the menace of a man you're perched upon decides to stoke the fire by giving you a small kiss on your lips.

"Not fair", you hiss against John. This time, his chuckle is audible.

"No one said anything about fair". You send him a deadpan look, but he only chuckles deeply again. "Now relax again, love". His hand pushes against the back of your head, bringing you to rest it against him. You don't fight him, hooking your chin near the juncture of his neck, staring at the bookshelf opposite you.

You knew you'd given a false promise when you said this wouldn't lead to anything. Called your own lie and his with your initial scepticism. But now you're too far gone, too horny after nearly a month of not properly feeling him; you let out a shuddering, displeased moan as you purposefully squirm.

Your constant shifts were too small to bring any real pleasure, erratic enough they would be written off as shifts to get comfortable if it wasn't for how you and John knew it definitely wasn't.

You could already feel your juices dripping, coating your inner thighs and his crotch, probably soaking his trousers. The lewd picture makes your pussy throb around his length again, and you quietly mewl, brows furrowing in frustration as you glare straight forward.

As if to make matters worse, your clit caught perfectly on the rolled-together line of your underwear that pressed into you at the angle John kept you from sinking deeper onto him. The realisation is like a doomsday announcement, as now it's impossible not to notice how your bundle of nerves is throbbing.

The ache is unbearable, especially as pleasure is within sight, the planes of John's lower stomach pressed right against your mound. With such temptation just a breath away, you wriggle your hips, stuttering a breath when pleasure rushes through your abdomen.

You start with small movements, yet more calculated than before. But soon, your squirming evolves into grinds that never fully make you sit back on John's lap.

You reckon that's why he doesn't stop your movements. But what catches you, pleasantly, off-guard is when you feel a slight push of his hand against your backside.

John lazily guides your hips a few times but stops suddenly as if catching himself of what he's doing when his concentration slips from his reading.

He chastises you with a soft pinch to the skin of your hips, and you know what's coming when he grabs the nape of your neck.

"Thought you said no fuckin'?". He directs your head in front of his. John's eyes have darkened, the good kind, his chest heaving more with each breath.

"I'm a big fat liar. That's what you want to hear?" You're quick to reply, the amusement rising in his blue eyes evident as he rolls his lips between his teeth with a content quirk in their corners before he answers.

"Always a delight when you admit you're wrong".

"Yeah, yeah", you roll your eyes, heat licking up your limbs and spine until pooling in the pit of your stomach. You attempt to quell it by mimicking the same move you'd previously done, but don't get far before John's strong hand anchors you squarely in his lap. The sweet pleasure of him filling you to the brim is momentary as the action keeps you there, fixed.

"Never said I would fuck you. I'm quite satisfied with this arrangement". John Price may be a humble man, but sometimes his cockiness soared when having you at his mercy.

"Piss off".

"Goin' to remain right here", he flashed you a devilish smile before returning to work.

His blatant disregard makes your mouth fall open as you stare at him.

You know John saw your reaction from the corner of his eyes, but he was adamant about not acknowledging you. You clench your jaw, sending him a nasty look.

If that's how he wants to play.

With the single coherent thought that you would get your release, no longer desiring to play into the torture John was putting you through, you decide to make him cave right along with you.

With one hand stabilising yourself on his chest, your other hand slide down beneath your sweater. Your mouth falls open when your fingers brush your clit, faintly feeling how he stretches you open, unabashed moan clawing up your throat and out of your mouth.

Oh, you saw the twitch of his head and felt his fingers dig into your waist. You knew how much he desired to look at you but remained stubborn enough not to indulge himself.

What must be a delirious-looking smile spread on your face as your mouth remains open, releasing all the soft breaths and whiney moans you'd muffled earlier. He's still keeping a steely grip on your lower half, keeping you from rocking your hips, but you make do with what he can't control.

You bend forward at the waist, head falling alongside his until you face his throat.

Whereas your previous kisses had been light, worshipping, now they were shy of foul. You don't leave more than a few open-mouthed kisses along his neck as a heads-up before you trace your tongue over the same spots you journey.

You never stop the slow circles over your clit, your heavy breaths fanning over the wet trail you paint against his skin. And with your pleasured sounds so close to his ear, your lips marking him up without abandon as no one but you will be able to see the light marks, a deep groan fills the air.

Silencing your satisfaction that you're slowly tearing his resolve, you release a low whine straight into his ear instead. "John-".

His facade cracks again, head tilting backwards, and you know he's fighting demons to not give in to your pleasure. But you show him no remorse, chuckling breathlessly over the shell of his ear before nipping his earlobe.

Laving over the sweet little spot on his neck, right at the angle where his beard fades and beneath his ear, another grunt fills the air as his other hand abandons the computer and shifts to grab you.

With both of his hands now on your hips, you take your unoccupied hand and drag it down his chest, the wiry hair tickling you as your nails catch his nipple. You paw at his chest as you push your mouth into the shell of his ear, shakily uttering, "Going fill me up, John?"

"Jesus-". His gravelly voice, how he gropes and grabs at your soft love handles, hints at the restrained pleasure leaking through the cracks you're creating. It eggs you on, quickening the fingers rubbing your clit as you try to see if he'll let you rock your hips.

Although he clutches your flesh when you start to roll your hips over his thick cock, he doesn't stop you, hands remaining dormant on your ass. And, since you don't get any resistance from John this time, you don't stop.

You flutter around him, your peak moving a lot closer when you sit straight, looking down at the man who showers you with his attention as you rise on your knees in tandem with the rocking of your hips. And that seems to break the last straw of his willpower.

You thank the heavens when he hastily moves to close his laptop and slides it a bit too aimlessly into the armchair beside the one you're occupying. The amusement in his eyes quickly faded to offer more place for surging arousal.

His uninjured arm rises to settle his hand at the back of your head, tugging you into a kiss as his other hand paces itself as he lowers it, swatting away your hand to overtake the onslaught on your bundle of nerves. As his thumbs find and rub firm circles onto your clit, you moan into his mouth.

John leans away to look at you, watching your features contort in pleasure as your cunt throbs around him. A lazy smirk on his face tells you he has no desire to drag out your or his pleasure any longer.

He starts moving his hips, meeting each of your falls into his lap, pressing him deeper into you than what you'd managed on your own. John sounded fucking heavenly as a fucked up into you, groans and grunts slipping past his teeth, even if he let you do most of the work, taking it easy with his shoulder.

"Fuckin' hell, that's my girl". He jerks inside you upon picking up the wet sounds squelching each time the back of your thighs meet his. "Takin' my cock so well after all this time, s'good for me, fuck- missed you havin' you around me". John's head drops backwards just as his hand falls to give your hips a firm squeeze, helping you guide your hips. You whine, clenching around him, slumping against him even if your hands get trapped between your chests.

He feels so good inside you, girthy length stretching you so deliciously, every ridge and vein rubbing against your walls. You pant against his skin, teeth closing on the tendons in his neck, not biting, but the pleasure just feels so good that you barely know what to do with yourself.

"Feisty today, eh?" John's jab is breathless, rasped from the back of his throat. "Hm, get so needy when you don't get my cock".

"John- fuck", your eyes squeeze tightly shut as your sensitivity is upped, orgasm nearing, the digit playing with your clit making you keen. "Feels so good, you feel so good... shit, missed this", you blabber. He groans at your admission, planting his heels more firmly to get more power behind his thrusts.

An involuntary squeak leaves you as the added force makes you slide forward a bit, your arm swinging around his neck on his uninjured side. It's nowhere near as fierce as John otherwise can shove himself deep inside of you, but after this long, he doesn't need to.

One final thrust sends you over the edge, body quivering, thighs squeezing his waist. Your moan breaks into heaving breaths, hips stilling in their up-and-down movement. John's not far behind, manually grinding your hips back and forth before he rolls his hips upwards, praises falling in groans from his lips as he spills inside you.

"Best believe you're not going back to working after this", you sigh into John's neck, having caught your breath just as he slackens beneath you.

He gives you a shakey laugh yet to level his own breathing. "No thought 'bout it", his voice is throaty as his arms curl around your waist.

#john price call of duty #john price x fem!reader #john price cod #captain john price #john price x reader #fanfic #cod mw2 #john price #captain john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #john price x y/n #john price x female reader #captain price #task force 141 #captain johnathan price #john price smut #john price fanfiction #john price fic

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munsster · 11 months

Text

best friends kiss

A/N: i LOVE oblivious pining/ yearning trope, see me running it into the ground for the next month give or take

Pairings: Best Friend!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: What’s a heartfelt makeout sesh between good friends? 1.0k words

Warnings: best friends to? lovers, established friendship, fluff, kissing!, denial of romance, obliviousness to the point of frustration, insecurity surrounding relationships, reader uses she/her pronouns otherwise character descriptions are gender neutral, reference to canon

“So… are you two dating?”

Perched side by side, legs intertwined, fingers locked, foreheads nearly touching as giggles pass through the limited space. You’ve got your hand wound into the hair at the back of his head, and his fingertips are digging into your soft and denim-clad thigh like he knows you that well. That intimately.

It’s movie night, and Mike Wheeler doesn’t understand how distinct the line between friends and lovers should be.

You look at each other like the question was outrageously offensive. Like even the thought is abhorrent. Yuck and gross and more laughter as you both vehemently deny any sentiment of the sort.

“Not even close, Wheeler.” His hand is on your thigh.

“It’s too hard to explain best-friendship to youngins these days.” He looks at you with a glimmer in his eye, and you push your fingers through his hair to his neck.

Just an hour before, chocolate fudge had melted down the side of your sundae bowl, coating your fingers in sticky-sweet sludge. Steve had noticed almost immediately—the two of you had been sharing a serving—and seized the cup from your hands, lifting your fingers to his mouth so he could lick the topping from your hot skin.

Everyone was ogling at the two of you. This again.

“Thanks, stud,” you had teased.

“Anything for my darling sweetums.”

A loud snort and a half-cackle later and you two were back to silently sharing a spoon and inching closer beneath your sherpa blanket.

And it wouldn’t be half as weird or awkward in your head if, back at your shared apartment, it wasn’t all silence and shy glances. Back at your shared apartment, there’s no sharing spoons or blankets or handholding or giggling. There is space between your seating arrangements, and your schedules are offset to avoid unwarranted eye contact. It’s awkwardly domestic like there’s something to be nervous about. Something unconfronted and unconfrontable.

Not like it’s ever been uncomfortable. No, the snack bowl is a safe divider for solo movie nights and there’s a diner down the road where the two of you opt to eat in silence and split the check. The silence is welcomed, of course, but different. Different from the hustle and bustle of the high school rascals and Family Video and house parties. Different and, at times, swell.

“Stevie…”

You coo it, and he glances over at you with a mouth full of popcorn, drunk on the gentle way you manage to command his attention like that. The light of the TV drenches your cheek blue and white, and he smiles when you wriggle beneath your blanket.

“Mhm?” There’s popcorn grease painted across his mouth, and it makes you laugh. He rolls his eyes. “Well, would’ya mind helping me out a little?”

“If you insist,” you huff, pushing onto your knees, abandoning the large bowl to the side, one hand firm on his shoulder, the other gripping his jaw. You lean in, and his heart stops when your tongue pokes out against his cupid’s bow. His eyes go wide when you pull back enough to realize what you’ve done.

But he’s already got his fist in the collar of your tee, tugging you into his space once more, mouths open and clobbering for a long-awaited kiss. Or kisses with the way your bodies hold each other closer.

Well, not as long-awaited as legend would have it; the two of you have kissed many times before. On the cheek, on the hand, on the forehead, Hell, even on the mouth. But this time, it’s more than a ‘hello’ or a new year’s eve, it’s without reason and without rhyme in your shared living room on your shared couch with the lights low and nobody but the two of you to bear witness. To breathlessness and close-contact that goes no further than a few needy kisses on a Thursday night.

The half heart necklace that dangles around your neck magnetizes to the matching one he wears. It’s from a theme park gift shop about two hours out of the way of Hawkins and it’ll crumble if you tug it hard enough, but you both convince yourselves it’s better that way. The kids don’t understand your interactions, and they’re in a constantly inconsistent state of ‘why’ and ‘ew’ and curiosity and waiting for something normal to happen. Something less platonic and more tangible, maybe.

Because Steve is treating you like a girlfriend. Not only that, but he’s doing a damn good job at it. He surprises you with hand-picked dandelions and buys drinks for you and gives you discounts and drives you everywhere.

But he’ll deny it.

“Nah, I’d be no good at it”—the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing—“I’ve tried it. I think I was made for the friendzone.”

And as delightful it may be to imagine, you’ll find it unnecessary.

“We’re just good friends. We already do most of the couply stuff, so why try and put a label on it?”

Dustin felt so out of the loop at one point, he decided to conduct his own mock-interview. Set up a stolen borrowed camera from the audio-visual room and hung a sheet up behind his desk chair to act as a backdrop. You had laughed when he called Mr. Steven Harrington into the studio.

“Do I love her?” Steve had laughed and gone a little pink at Dustin’s third question, the first and second being on the subject of favorite colors and ideal first dates. “‘Course, I do. We’re best friends, aren’t we?”

“Aw, c’mon, do I love him? What is this, preschool?” It had made your heart flutter in a moment of unexpected vulnerability. “We’re mature adults, we obviously ove each other.”

Would you ever date each other?

“…”

“Hadn’t thought about it.”

“Hmm, that’s a hard question.”

But Steve still thinks about the way you pressed your tongue to his upper lip, and you still think about the way he looked at you when you pulled away.

masterlist

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #x reader #best friends to lovers #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things #fluff #x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #established friendship #friends to lovers

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secretsecretbunny · 2 months

Text

Just friends: stray kids smau.

Part two: "MewMin."

paring: lee minho x f!reader - roommate!skz

genre: fluff, angst, comedy, (future smut), smau, roommates au.

warnings for this chapter: weed use, mild sexual jokes, relentless flirting, honestly that's it, this is mostly fluff.

intro || part one || part 1.5

As you stretch your arms overhead, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand up, putting on an oversized t-shirt and your favorite pair of pajama shorts. It may have appeared that you weren't wearing any pants, but you didn't care and were confident that nobody else would either, as long as you were comfortable. As you leave your room, you make your way towards the basement stairs, passing by the kitchen where Chan and Seungmin are busy preparing their breakfasts. The aroma of freshly toasted bread fills the air as you walk down the hallway.

"morning!" you said, your voice still a bit raspy from sleep.

"morning, sweetheart" Chan responded, motioning you in for a hug.

You took a few more steps into the kitchen, feeling the coldness of the tile floor against your bare feet as you wrapped your arms around Chan's waist and rested your head on his chest, enjoying the warmth his body provided. "You should really be sleeping more" he mumbled into your hair.

You sighed "I know I know, but I have caffeine!" You chirped as you pulled away from the hug.

"You're gonna be shaking like a damn chihuahua if you don't chill with the caffeine" Seungmin said as he took a bite of his food. You turned around to face him.

"oh so I get shit for drinking too much caffeine but Innie doesn't? Double standard ass bitch." Seungmin just rolled his eyes. You looked him up and down for a moment, he was dressed in a nice black button up with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, matching black slacks, and nice shoes. He was adorned with gold necklaces and rings while his hair was parted in the middle.

"You look hot, where you going?" you asked with a tilt of your head. His face scrunched up in disgust, despite his flushed cheeks, making Chan laugh.

"Ew. Anyway.. I'm heading over to Gucci and then Prada to get some dog clothes for the pups I'm walking today." he explained.

"You shop at Gucci and Prada for dogs?" you ask incredulously.

"Yes? And?" he replied in defense.

As you left the kitchen, you couldn't help but shake your head with a hint of amusement. "Nothing, just suddenly I'm a dog." You said with a laugh.

"Yeah well I'm not buying you shit!" He shouted down the hallway, his words chasing after you as you made your way towards the stairs that led to Jisung's room.

You walked down the stairs and passed through the spacious game room, which was filled with a variety of entertainment options, including a few arcade machines, an air hockey table, and a dart board mounted on the far wall. Rounding the corner you peeked into Jisung's room. "Hanji? You're clothed right?" you asked cautiously. He laughed "no, I'm stark naked and smoking a fat bowl." he said sarcastically. "Oh hell yeah" you said, dramatically bursting into the room. As you laughed uncontrollably, you collapsed onto one of his soft couches. He quickly passed you the bong with a chuckle, shaking his head at your dramatics. "well, the fat bowl part was true at least" you accepted the bong, lighting the bowl and taking a decent sized hit before you blew the smoke out slowly. God you loved a good wake n bake.

The sudden buzzing of your phone signaled an update awaited you in the group chat.

You slowly savored the coffee Jeongin had brewed for you, already feeling the effects of the RedBull but still yearning for more caffeine. Six hours or less of sleep wasn't uncommon for you, but it certainly wasn't enough to feel rested. The weed kept the caffeine jitters at bay and you were content vegging out on the sofa in Jisung's basement bedroom.

You lived in a spacious and luxurious house, so it was no surprise that the basement was just as impressive. It was modeled the same as the rest of the place, with the exception of the lack of windows. Jisung's room was adorned with purple LED lights and chill music played in the background, creating a peaceful atmosphere that was perfect for starting your day.

After sending your last message to the group chat and locking your phone, you let out a sigh as you set it down on the coffee table in front of you. Jisung sat on the smaller sofa across from you, giving you an inquisitive look with his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes fixed intently on yours. You raised an eyebrow back at him "What?" you asked. "not to be the bitch in another bitches business.." he started, slouching further into the sofa "but you do know they're just worried, right?" he asked hesitantly. You gave a gentle smile before another sigh escaped you. "Yeah, I know, but I'm good, promise." you said. Jisung nodded in response.

The door creaked open further and both of you leaned forward to see who was entering. "Hey, just me." Minho said as he stepped inside. "gimme a couple hits, my body is screaming from this morning's routine" he complained. Jisung sat up, handing him the bong. Minho took a hit, blowing the smoke up towards the ceiling. "So, wasn't trying to eavesdrop but.." he turned to you, face unreadable "you are like.. safe.. right?" he asked, referring to your work. You carefully chewed on your bottom lip for a few seconds, gathering your thoughts before responding. "I mean.. yeah. I'm safe." Minho looked at you, unsure if he really believed you or not. You smiled, placing a hand on his cheek. "Don't worry about it." You dropped your hand and Minho let out a huff.

"Anyway.. what are your guys plans for the day?" You asked. Jisung hummed in thought. "I'm probably just chilling here all day." he said with a shrug. Minho looked at you. "I was thinking about going to the Spring festival they're holding at the park. It'd probably be boring alone though.. if you wanted to come with." he said nonchalantly, as if he wasn't already planning on asking you to go. You perked up. "Will you buy me snacks?" You gazed at him with pleading eyes, resembling those of a puppy, and paired it with an endearing smile that lit up your whole face. The combination was irresistible, making him burst into laughter. "Yeah yeah, I'll buy you snacks, princess" he said, rolling his eyes. "Hell yeah! I'm in." Minho turned towards Jisung. "You wanna tag along.. orrr?" he asked him, giving him a look that you couldn't quite decipher. Ji just smirked "Nah. You two have fun." He said, giving Minho a knowing look. "Okay. We'll head out around three, yeah?" He asked you, you nodded. "Yeah, sounds good!" As Minho rose to his feet, he tenderly patted your head before making his way towards the exit. "I'm gonna go make myself some food, I'll see you later though." he said walking out of Jisung's room and back up the stairs.

Ji fixed his gaze on you, his right eyebrow arched in a subtle yet unmistakable gesture of inquiry. "What?" You asked with a confused expression on your face. "Nothing it just.. kinda sounds like a date." He said with a sly grin and an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle, emphasizing his point in a playful manner. You rolled your eyes. "We're just friends, Hanjiiiii" he laughed. "Whatever you say, bug."

You and Jisung smoked another bowl and engaged in conversation while enjoying music, laughing over absolute bullshit until you decided to get ready for the festival with Minho. "Have fun on your daaaate~" Ji mocked in a singsong voice as you stood up from the sofa, his tone was playful but slightly sarcastic. You threw a pillow at his face and laughed before quickly scurrying off to your room.

You chose a cozy and laid-back outfit, consisting of a soft grey sweater, a stylish denim skirt, and your trusty white sneakers, perfect for walking around. For your hairstyle, you opted to keep your strands flowing freely, adding an effortless touch to your overall look. When you stepped out of your room, you narrowly avoided bumping into Minho as he was stopped in front of your door. "Oh, hey. I was just about to get you." He said with a laugh. "You ready?" You nodded "yup! Let's head out!" you said, pulling him along. "You wanna get cheap coffee before?" He asked. "Duh"

Following the stop for coffee where you stayed to savor the drinks, you continued on to the festival, where you were greeted by the vibrant colors of springtime as you approached the park. The sweet scent of blooming flowers mingled with mouthwatering smells from an array of food stalls wafting through the atmosphere. After quickly exiting the car, your excited bouncing drew Minho's attention. "Where to first?" You asked Minho who had an amused smile on his face. "I promised you snacks, no?" he said with a grin. "Let's go get you something good." With graceful precision, you maneuvered around the car and latched onto Minho's arm. "I want something sweet and deep fried!!" You exclaimed. He chuckled as he guided you towards the array of food stalls, each one tempting your senses with its unique aroma. The sweet and savory smells mingled in the air, making your mouth water in anticipation. As you scanned the row of stalls, your eyes landed on a particular stand that caught your attention: Cherry blossom powdered donuts. You pointed to it excitedly. "thaaaaaat". Minho laughed at your excitement, throwing his head back. "Okay okay okay" he laughed out.

As you approached the stall, your face dropped. "Wait, Min, these are expensive. I'm not letting you buy these!" You said, pulling out your wallet. Before you could even pull out your card, Minho quickly and sneakily grabbed your wallet from your hands, shoving it in his own pocket. "Don't even think about it, princess." He said, looking at you intensely. "Miiiin" you whined "aht, shut it." Without hesitation, he extracted his wallet from his other pocket and handed over money to cover the cost of two donuts. You pouted. "I could've totally paid for mine!" With a sly grin spreading across his face, Minho reached out and affectionately tapped his fingers beneath your chin. "I know you could have. I simply didn't want you to, freak." You rolled your eyes. "Fine but I owe you." This made him grin. "Yeah? What are you gonna pay me back with?" He asked with a tilt of his head and a wink. Your face flushed a bit at his sudden flirtatious attitude, and you could feel the heat rising to the surface. You hid it by walking over to a bench that sat beneath one of the many beautiful pink trees. He laughed as he followed you to the bench, where you both sat down and enjoyed your donuts.

You basically devoured your donut in just two bites, while Minho had barely taken his first bite. He looked at you with a hint of amusement and wiped away some powder that had gathered on your bottom lip with his thumb, swiping over it slowly. The soft pad of his thumb meeting your sensitive lip had goosebumps rising on your neck. Your heart stupidly skipped a beat at the gesture. 'Jesus, y/n. This is Minho, what the hell is your problem?'. Maybe it was because of Ji's teasing about this being a date, but you had promised yourself ages ago that nothing could ever happen between you and any of the boys. You refused to be responsible for the fallout of your closely knit group. Not after the rumor almost destroyed everything. All you'd be doing is proving the rumor right.

You turned your head, clearing your throat. "Remember last time we came to the spring festival?" You asked him. With a gentle smile playing on his lips, he relaxed into the bench, letting out a soft laugh. "Yeah. I had to hold your stupid hand the entire time because you freaked out and started crying when I went out of sight for two minutes." He said, reminiscing. "It was ten minutes, Min!! I thought you ditched me.." you pouted. "I would never." He said, nudging your shoulder, the contact warm. You nodded "Yeah, I know. But I was already ditched that day by the guy I was supposed to be there with. I thought maybe I just sucked to be around." You huffed with a nervous laugh.

Minho's fingers grazed against your skin as he tenderly tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, making your heart flutter. "Nah, you're my favorite person to be around." God he needed to stop. No, you needed to stop. It's not like he was even doing anything particularly.. flirty. Was he? This was normal behavior within your friend group, so why should it feel different with Minho? You sucked in a breath. "I thought I was a freak." You teased. He laughed. "I mean, a freak could be a good thing, depending on where you're at." He said wiggling his eyebrows. Now you were laughing. You smacked his arm. "Jesus Christ, Min." You said rolling your eyes. "is that what you scream in bed too?" He said, his voice low. You looked at him, tongue in cheek. "Wouldn't you like to know?" You asked sarcastically. Minho merely shrugged. "Maybe." You just shook your head with another roll of your eyes. "You're impossible, Lee Minho."

The two of you went back and forth for a while, making jokes and conversation before deciding to walk around the festival some more. With so many things to look at, you could hardly focus on just one thing. Suddenly you came to a stop in front of a stall with a dart board game, eyeing what was possibly the cutest grumpy looking cat plush. It honestly reminded you of Minho. "Got your eye on something, princess?" Minho asked, backtracking to you. You simply nodded. "Give me my wallet. I want to win that cat!" You explained, pointing at the stuffed animal. He laughed. "That weird looking thing?" You stifled a smile. "Funny you say that, I was just thinking that it looked like you." Minho threw a hand to his chest with a dramatic gasp. "How dare you, I am MUCH cuter than that thing." You rolled your eyes, making a grabby hand, asking for your wallet.

Minho simply shook his head "Not a chance, princess. I invited you, I'm paying." he said. "Minnnn no! You know how I feel about people spending money on me!" You huffed. "And y/nnnnn you know how I enjoy spending money on people!" He mocked. You narrowed your eyes at him, thinking out your plan for a moment before you were suddenly lunging at him, reaching for his jacket pocket in a swift motion. With one arm securely around his waist, you attempted to slide your other hand into his pocket. Minho was cackling as he pulled at your wrist, his fingers deftly working it away from his pocket before using the position to pull you close to him, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Your breath hitched in your throat as you realized that your faces were now only inches apart as he beamed at you with an unrestrained grin, making you halt. "Nice try, princess, but back off." He whispered. As he spoke, you could feel the gentle whisper of his breath on your lips. It was as if time stood still for a moment before you felt yourself blushing and taking an involuntary step backwards. Minho smiled. "Good girl.. now, let's get you that cat." He approached the dart booth, handed the operator a few dollars, and received a fistful of darts in exchange.

As you watched him throw the darts, you shielded your eyes from the sun's rays. The first dart hit its mark in the center immediately. The man removed it before Minho threw the second dart, also landing it directly in the middle. You raised your eyebrows, impressed. The actions repeated in the same way until all the darts were gone, earning you your chunky, angry cat. As Minho handed you the plush creature, you couldn't help but beam at it with excitement. With a grin spreading across your face, you gently squished its cheeks. "I love him." You cooed, making Minho laugh. "You really think that thing looks like me?" He asked. You looked at him, then back to the plush, smile still on your face. "Absolutely. Grumpy, but undeniably cute." You giggled out. You missed the subtle, yet noticeable pink hue that suddenly seized his entire face while you were fixated on the cat, completely absorbed in your own thoughts. Minho reached out with his hand and ruffled your hair, causing a few strands to fall out of place before he began walking away. "whatever you say". After catching up to him, you kept pace with him and cradled the soft toy against your chest, exuding happiness.

As you walked side by side, you made your way towards an old wooden bridge that stretched across the serene lake. The sun was warm and casting a bright glow over the water as you stepped onto the creaky boards of the bridge. You stopped midway, taking in the breathtaking view around you while listening to the gentle lapping of the waves. "We should take a selfie!" You exclaimed, pulling out your phone. "Sure, princess." He said, leaning against the railing. Capturing a good picture proved to be more challenging than expected, and you found yourself attempting different poses and angles, all while letting out annoyed sighs when they didn't work as planned. This caught the attention of an older woman on the other side of the bridge. "Oh! Let me take a photo for you two!" She said sweetly. "Oh! Thank you so much, ma'am, I'd really appreciate that!" You said with a smile, handing her your phone.

You sat your cat plush nearby and stood next to Minho, your hands clasped behind your back as Minho leaned closer to you. The woman lowered the camera. "Oh come on, I'm sure a lovely couple like you can strike a more romantic pose than that!" She said with a laugh. Your eyes widened as Minho chuckled. "Oh! We're not-" But before you could even complete your thought, Minho was already turning in your direction with lightning speed, enveloping you securely within his strong arms while lifting you off the ground. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck for stability. "That's more like it!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Min, what the hell?" you whispered. He huffed out an airy laugh. "Relax, princess. It's just a photo. I won't drop you." You could feel the warmth of his chest against yours, and his breath on your neck, making you flustered yet again. Unwilling to let your flushed face be documented, you angled your head so that your face was out of view of the camera's lens.

The woman snapped the photo and looked at it with a smile as Minho put you back down and lightly stroked your cheek with the tips of his fingers. You were distracted for a moment, unable to break your eye contact with Min before the woman handed your phone back to you. "It came out perfect!" She said with a smile. You snapped back to reality. "Thank you so much, ma'am" you said as you took your phone back. She waved off the praise as she went back to her own business. You and Minho looked at the photo for a moment before you tucked your phone back into your pocket. You were still feeling a bit flustered as Minho threw an arm around your shoulder nonchalantly, pulling you close to him. "Where to next?" He asked you. You shrugged "uh, you wanna get something to drink?" You asked. He nodded "sure thing." He replied. "Any way you'll let me pay this time?" You asked, looking up at him with a playful glare. "No way in hell, baby." You rolled your eyes at his response. "Fine, whatever." He simply laughed at your reply "I love when you're compliant." He purred. You playfully pushed him away, you holding back a grin as he cackled.

You and Minho walked over to the nearby drink stand, scanning the menu board as you waited in line. When it was your turn, you ordered a cherry blossom lemonade for yourself while Minho chose a strawberry cream drink. The two of you sat near the water, swapping drinks every so often as you made conversation and watched the sun set, your shoulders pressed together. You were both laughing at an old college story when a yawn escaped you. You looked at the time on your phone. It was only 9pm, but you were already feeling exhausted from the lack of sleep the night before. The darkness outside seemed to be closing in on you, making your eyelids feel heavy and your body begged for rest. You rested your head on Minho's shoulder momentarily, enjoying the comfort he provided.

"You ready to head back?" He asked you, noticing your sleepy state. You nodded. "Yeah I'm exhausted." You admitted. He stood up, offering you his hand and helping you up. You grabbed your grumpy cat and you both headed to the car, Minho never releasing your hand.

The ride home was spent singing along to a few songs, smiles plastered on your faces. Minho couldn't help but steal a glance at you, his heart skipping a beat as he took in the sight of you happily belting out one of his favorite songs with your eyes closed, completely absorbed in the music. He focused his attention back on the road just as you opened your eyes, completely missing his gaze.

As you finally arrived home and stepped back inside, you were greeted by the chaotic screams of Jisung and Felix, who were fully immersed in Mario Kart. You laughed at them as you passed. "Welcome back, Bug!" Ji called out as you passed by. "Hey, I'm here too, you know." Minho shouted back. "Yeah yeah you too, loverboy." Jisung responded dismissively. You laughed as Minho rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go hit the shower before I settle. Today was fun." He said, brushing your arm with his finger tips as he walked by. "Okay. Goodnight, Min." You responded softly. "Goodnight, princess."

After arriving back to your room, you put on some comfy clothes and settled onto your bed to catch up with everyone in the group chat.

As you set your phone down next to you, you can't help but think about all that happened today. Suddenly, Minho's smiling face pops into your head. The way he was so close to you all day, his thumb brushing over your lip, his flirty jokes, his arm around your shoulder, his face close to yours.. your face felt hot just thinking about it. No. Stop. You literally can't do this. You promised yourself you never would. Not with any of the boys. You couldn't. You couldn't because you didn't want to risk your friendships and you couldn't because of your job. It was just all out of the question. No matter what your feelings truly were. Besides, Minho didn't feel that way about you, regardless of how much he jokingly flirted with words and actions. His intentions were probably never serious.

As you were running your hands down your face, your phone suddenly buzzed again. Thinking it was likely the group chat, you picked it up to check, but much to your surprise, it turned out be a private message from Minho.

You smiled at the photo. It really was cute.. you wondered what things would be like if Minho wasn't part of your friend group. If he was just a guy you met, maybe in a coffee shop or a bookstore. You didn't let yourself entertain the thought for long, flicking off your lamp and curling into your blankets in a swift motion, almost as if you were trying to escape the notion that had just crossed your mind, you pulled your grumpy cat to your chest and buried your face in it.

MewMin, you decided to name him. He would have to do...

a/n:

Guys I did it. I finished part two 😭 y'all asked for fluff so I did my best to give you fluff!! Please please let me know what you think by commenting, reblogging, or sending me an ask!! Thank you so much for your patience!! I love you!! -Bunny 🐰💕

There is no taglist.

#lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lino x reader #lee minho #lee know #lino #minho #skz #stray kids #skz fake texts #stray kids fake texts #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smau #stray kids smau #series: just friends #bunbunworks #skz fic #stray kids fic

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amomentsescape · 8 months

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Wrong Place, Right Time (Part II)

Billy Loomis x Reader

Part I

Summary: Billy decides to see you again and set things straight. He knew he wouldn't be able to stay away for long.

Warnings: Foul language

Word Count: 1,534

A/N: I really enjoyed writing a part II for this, but I think I just really like writing for Billy in general! I hope you all enjoy reading this :)

Billy was out of breath by the time he reached their meeting place. Of course, Stu was already there, awaiting him with the widest grin on his face.

"Don't say a damn thing," Billy spoke harshly.

Stu's smile quickly faded. "What the hell happened?"

Billy shook his head and dropped the Ghostface mask, his now free hand reaching up to his sweaty hair.

"(Y/N) was there. Why didn't you fucking tell me-"

"Woah woah. How the hell was I supposed to know? You asked for a small group, they were a small group. You didn't ask to know who was gonna be there!"

Billy let out a scoff.

A silence soon overcame them as Stu continued to stare at the shorter boy.

"Did you..." Stu started.

"What? Jesus, no. I let (Y/N) run off."

That was mostly true. But his hand still felt warm where he had touched your cheek before he ran off into the night.

"Shit," Stu grumbled. "You weren't supposed to leave anyone alive. Does (Y/N) know it was you?"

Billy shook his head quickly. You've barely spoken to each other in person. There wasn't any way you'd be able to narrow it down to him. You probably didn't even know his name.

"Lets just get out of here. Police are going to be swarming this neighborhood soon."

Stu agreed and the boys walked off, Billy's gut turning over at the thought of you.

----

You didn't show up to school for the next few days. It only made sense after everything that happened, but Billy was still a bit frustrated at your absence.

He missed seeing your little smile in the halls, your quiet laughs being heard in your shared classes.

His own resolve was slowly breaking with Sidney as well. All he could think about was how that small touch of your cheek made him feel so alive.

He tried all this time to stay far away. But now that he gave in, now that he got a small taste of you, there was no way he could restrain himself any longer.

He had to see you again.

So that night after school, he went to your house.

He knew your parents were working late, so it was his perfect chance to sneak in and...

Well, he didn't really think that far ahead. Should he explain himself? Wrap you in his arms and never let go? He wasn't exactly sure. But it was too late to turn back now- he was already outside your window.

You were seated on the couch with a bowl of chips in your lap. You had the TV on, but your eyes weren't focusing on it.

Billy felt a bit of guilt pang in his chest, a feeling he wasn't too familiar with. You looked so... sad? Whatever the emotion was, he didn't like it.

He pulled out his cell and began to call you.

You got up to answer the phone after a few rings, just going through the familiar motions of the night.

"Hello?"

"What are you watching?"

Your breath got caught in your throat at this. You were sure you knew who it was, even though he never spoke to you that night. Something about his presence on the phone was enough to spark that familiarity in you. It had to be him.

After a few moments of silence you finally found your voice. But it was still much more timid than you had hoped.

"Y-you're here to finish the job, aren't you?" you spoke uneasily.

There was another moment of silence.

You heard a sigh come through the phone, only to be followed by the click of him hanging up.

He was coming for you.

You jumped off the couch and ran to the kitchen, hoping to grab a knife or some tool to defend yourself with.

Even though he didn't kill you that night, you had spent all this time wondering if it was because he just wanted to toy with you. Something in your heart wanted to believe that there was more to it, but you didn't want to be hopeful. The fear of dying overruled everything else.

By the time you reached the drawer, you heard the familiar creak of your front door. This caused you to turn towards the entrance, only to be met with the same figure from that night. You had been right.

You turned back to the drawer in front of you and pulled it open, reaching in for a weapon of some kind.

But Ghostface was quick to reach you and pin your back against the counter, both his arms on either side of you.

At that moment, you felt like giving up. He had you pinned against the drawer that would have protected you, and there was no way of wiggling past him. If he was going to kill you, then you supposed that it was just going to have to happen. You wouldn't fight back.

However, the figure only leaned closer to you, his warm body pressing against yours.

You felt your heart rate pick up and your knees go a bit weak. You bit your cheek in frustration at these feelings. You were supposed to be terrified, but here he was acting almost affectionately towards you. This only confused you more.

"If you're going to kill me then just do it."

He stared back at you through his mask, his head beginning to tilt slightly.

You waited a few more moments only for him to not make any movements. You took this opportunity to glance down at his hands, realizing that he wasn't sporting his reputable knife. In fact, he didn't have any weapon in his hands.

You looked back up at his mask confused.

"What do you want then?" you asked softly.

In almost a flash, he reached up and ripped off his mask, his lips slamming to yours so quickly. You didn't even have time to process who he was or what was happening as your hands reached up to his face on instinct.

What the hell was happening?

You wanted to push him away, logically. But God, his lips felt so warm and soft against yours. His scent was too enticing and his hands knew exactly where to hold you. It's like this man was built just for you at this moment, and you decided to just indulge.

Fuck it.

You kissed back just as hard and pushed into him even more. You could feel him suck in a breath at your reciprocation and continue to melt into you. This kiss had to be drugged, you were sure of it.

After a bit, your lips began to slow down as he finally decided it was time to face you. He pulled away slowly as he looked at you, waiting for your reaction.

It took a few moments for you to notice who you were looking at, your body still slightly drunk off his lips.

When you finally recognized who it was, your eyes widened in surprise.

"B-Billy?" you gasped.

He couldn't help the small smile that grew on his face, his shoulders shrugging in response. "Surprise."

You stared back at him in disbelief for a bit, not sure what to do.

But finally the words flew out of your mouth without so much as a second thought.

"You're the Woodsboro killer?"

His smile faded a bit as he peered at you, his breath becoming shaky.

"I didn't know you were going to be there that night," he answered instead.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "Is that why you didn't kill me?"

He nodded. "I wouldn't have killed them either if I knew they were your friends."

You rolled your eyes at this. "Yeah, friends. I was only there for some stupid group project."

Your eyes widened a bit after you said this. You almost sounded happy that they were gone now. But you were quick to shake off the feeling.

"Are you scared?" Billy asked softly.

Your eyes flicked down to his lips for a moment as you thought back to what had happened just minutes before.

"I don't think so. It seems odd to kiss the person you're about to murder," you laughed slightly.

This brought the smile back to Billy's face. He'd kill for that sound.

"Good."

You considered this whole situation after his response. He's a murderer, but he cares about you.

Your moral compass seemed all fucked up in that moment.

"What happens now?" you questioned.

Billy let out a breath at this. "Whatever you want."

He reached out to your hand.

"Sidney?" you asked.

He rolled his eyes. "I was gonna get rid of her soon."

"Did you even..."

He shook his head quickly. "Only you. It's only been you."

Yeah, that moral compass was completely shattered now.

You leaned in and kissed him again softly. Once you pulled away, you bumped your nose with his, earning a smirk.

"This makes me pretty fucking crazy, doesn't it?" you asked.

"What does?"

"Wanting to be with a serial killer."

Billy's smile widened. "You wanna be with me?"

You shrugged, looking at your joined hands.

"I've always liked slasher flicks."

#billy loomis x reader #billy loomis preference #billy loomis #ghostface #ghostface x reader #scream movie #scream franchise #scream #scream 1996 #slasher fandom #slashers preference #slash fanfiction #slashers x reader #slashers #slasher summer

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 4 months

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The Gingerbread Kerfuffle - Modern! Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Seeking your husband's help in baking gingerbread turns out not be the roaring success you had hoped it would be.

Pairing: Modern! Daemon Targaryen x AFAB! Reader

Warnings: profanity, p in v sex, degradation, cunnilingus, spanking, overstim, tiddy play, rough sex, slight daddy kink if you squint, she/her pronouns used

Word Count: 1.75k words

A/N: hoe hoe hoe! a very merry late Christmas and Happy New Year in advance from me to you :) Daemon girlies, you are up first 😋 i hope you enjoy!

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

“And what exactly is the difference between these two?” Daemon’s disgusted voice broke you from your focus as you focused on beating the milk and sugar. You sighed, turning to face Daemon as he held up the bag of flour and baking powder, looking confused.

Why in the Seven Hells did you think it would be a good idea to try and rope your husband into helping you to bake gingerbread cookies?

If it weren’t for the two twin girls soundly asleep upstairs in their beds, eagerly awaiting for your household’s traditional gingerbread cookies, you might have laughed until you woke the whole neighbourhood by now.

“This, my dearest husband,” you took the bag of flour from his hand, “Is the flour. Or all-purpose flour as we call it.”

“And what are its purposes?” Daemon inquired, a scowl on his face as his gaze flickered between the baking powder and flour.

You paused, “I…actually don’t know,” you admitted. “It’s just essential.” Daemon scoffed, “Darling, are you sure you know how to bake?” You shoot him a glare. “Who’s the one struggling to tell the difference between flour and baking powder, darling?” You moved to check on the mixture in the mixing bowl. Your husband came up behind you, hopefully not to ask another question about the difference and functions of baking ingredients.

Arms encircled you, as Daemon buried his face in your hair, inhaling your sweet floral scent. “You know…” Daemon murmured, hands creeping towards the front of your shorts. “I might not understand anything about baking, but you sure look sexy as hell while doing it.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, playing along as Daemon continued kissing your neck. “Daemon, the girls.”

“Won’t hear a thing,” Daemon concluded, trying to tug off your shorts. “As long as you’re quiet, darling.”

You smirked, pressing yourself up against him. A groan and his hardness pressing against you made you know you had succeeded, causing your smirk to widen. “Come on, darling, what do you say?” Daemon murmured, hands grazing over your pussy over your shorts. “Let me fuck you?”

“Hmm,” you pretended to consider it. “I say…help me roll up the dough into two balls, you dirty dog.” You spun around, pushing him off you gently.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips, looking not at all bothered by your rejection. “I know what other two balls you can play with-'' He laughed as you shoved the mixing bowl in his arms, looking at him sternly. “Less dirty talk, more rolling please. I’d actually like to get some sleep before having to wake up early to bake these tomorrow.”

“Yes, madam,” Daemon responded in a sly voice, as you narrowed your eyes at him.

The two of you made fast work of it, rolling the dough into two balls, before putting them in the fridge. You let out a sigh of relief as you began washing up the bowls in the sink, it was only 11 o’ clock, which meant that the two of you could get in eight hours of sleep before having to wake up tomorrow to bake the cookies.

When you finally finished washing up, you wiped your hands on the kitchen cloth, brows furrowing a little. It was quiet…too quiet.

“Daemon?” You called out, scanning the kitchen for your oversized man toddler. You had asked him to put the ingredients back into the pantry, but the man was nowhere to be seen. “Daem-“

You let out a squeal as strong arms scooped you up, bridal style. Daemon carried you like you weighed nothing more than a rag doll, briskly walking up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

“Daemon, what are you-“ you squealed again as he tossed you onto your bed roughly, immediately climbing over you and removing his sweatpants. “You think it’s funny, hmm?” Daemon lifted an eyebrow as he continued undressing himself, then moving to undress you. “Teasing me like a brat in the kitchen, acting all smart with me in the kitchen, like you’re better than me hmm?”

You stifled a giggle, coyly trailing a finger down Daemon’s abs. “Well, to be fair, you were the one who confused sugar for salt. I think I-“ You yelped as Daemon flipped you over onto your stomach, landing a harsh smack on your ass. “Not so feisty now, are we?” He taunted, spanking you again.

You choked on your breath as he continued spanking you harshly, but the inner brat in you refused to submit. “Says the man who doesn’t know the difference between a spatula and a whisk,” you mocked, sticking up your ass even more, leaning into his touch.

Daemon growled, hand landing on your ass so harshly that it made you yip in pain. He immediately moved to cover your mouth. “Shh, little whore,” he said condescendingly, smirking down at you. “Don’t want to wake the girls, don’t you?”

You were about to argue back, but then Daemon, clearly having had enough of your bratty attitude, thrust into you harshly from behind, making you scream into his mouth. He rubbed your back soothingly with the other hand, shushing you like you were a small child. “Shh, shh, I thought you said that we shouldn’t wake the girls, yes?” Daemon’s words were mockingly sweet, as he began pumping into you leisurely. He still kept his hand over your mouth, muffling any of your moans and cries as he fucked you. He groaned as you clenched tighter around him when he went faster, his hips snapping into yours. “Oh, the little whore likes it when I treat her rough like this, doesn’t she?” Daemon taunted, emphasising his words by thrusting into you when he called you a little whore. “Likes it when her daddy just fucks her with no care in the world, doesn’t she?”

You nodded eagerly, and Daemon smiled wolfishly at that, planting kisses down your neck down your spine. “Such a good fucking girl, mmm, all for me,” Daemon smacked your ass lightly a few times, groaning at the erotic sound of skin slapping on skin.

You felt a heated whisper against your ear, as Daemon grazed his lips against your ear, making you shiver. “And do you know what good girls get, sweetheart?” Daemon pulled back with a smirk as he watched you with mock pity. “Oh yes, my hand is still around your mouth. Tsk, how silly of me to forget.” He relished in the indignant “mmph!” noises he heard from you in response.

“I’ll tell you the answer, sweetheart,” Daemon said blandly, like he wasn’t currently ploughing into you right now with the vigour of a bull. “Good girls get to cum, sweetheart.” With that, his other hand went down to your swollen pearl, rubbing it with his thumb. He laughed as he heard your noises becoming more and more needy, letting out a sated sigh as he felt you cum on his cock, your walls tightening around him as you did.

“Oh, beautiful,” he leaned down and kissed you, taking note of how out of breath you were as he released his hand from your mouth. A smug smirk flickered on his lips. You were shaking so badly…

Too bad he wasn’t known for being “The Merciful” in the business world.

You yelped when Daemon flipped you over. Your back hit the cool sheets, but they provided little relief as Daemon seized your legs, forcing them to wrap around his waist as he continued thrusting in you. Cries of pleasure fell from your lips as Daemon’s hot mouth went to suck on your swollen, hardened nipples, biting them lightly and delighting as you writhed under his tongue.

“I can’t come again, Daemon, please,” you cried out, as Daemon’s pounding grew more and more intense and you felt the familiar coil in your stomach again. Daemon released your nipple with a wet pop, and looked menacingly into your eyes.

“Yes, you can. You little slut.”

Daemon lowered his mouth back onto your heated, sweaty skin again, this time devoting his attention to your neck and collarbone, while his hands came up to play and fondle with your tits, squeezing them. You let out a strangled moan as you came again, as Daemon flicked his thumb at your hardened bud.

You had hoped that Daemon would let you go after that, but your husband had other plans. Your head initially lolled back against the pillows in exhaustion, but it snapped up again as Daemon spread your legs even wider. “What…”

A wicked grin was all you saw before Daemon dived between your folds, eagerly licking up your wet, swollen slit “No, no, no more,“ you cried out, hips bucking off the bed as you tried to pull yourself away from his hot, needy mouth, but firm hands gripped your hips tightly, preventing you from moving an inch more.

You were always the sweetest thing Daemon had ever tasted, and he especially loved eating you out after your orgasms, with your legs shaking and barely managing to keep a hold of your sanity as he ravished you with his mouth.

When you felt his skilled tongue flicking at your clit, you could feel your orgasm approaching again, your body trembling in preparation for it. “Daemon, I can’t, I can’t-“ A strangled moan tore from your throat as you came, squirting Daemon’s face and tongue with your juices. Daemon chuckled darkly against your folds, refusing to stop until he had licked up every trace of your cum.

Exhausted after the three orgasms wrung from you, you collapsed back on the pillows. You felt a finger running along your overstimulated slit, as Daemon pulled himself up to you again, kissing you sweetly, a stark contrast from his former ravenous, wicked demeanour.

Daemon pushed his finger into your mouth, giving you a simple command. “Taste yourself, darling.” Your tongue hesitantly darted out, sucking your own juices off his finger. A sigh emerged from your lips, and Daemon smiled, kissing your forehead. “Is it over now?” you mumbled softly, eyes fluttering shut.

“Mmm,” Daemon hummed, looking down at your blissed out, fucked out state. “I think you’re forgetting something, darling.”

You opened your eyes, looking confused. Eyes darting to the clock on the wall opposite your bed, your brows furrowed. “Merry…Christmas, love?”

Daemon burst out laughing, hand trailing down to play with your nipples again. “Not that, darling,” he whispered, a devilish grin on his face. “I still haven’t come yet, haven’t I?”

Oh, fuck.

Daemon General Taglist: @aiyaiy @kmmg98 @norestfortheshelbywicked @hb8301 @hc-geralt-23 @babypink224221 @mckenziewhite2005

let me know if you wish to be added to a general taglist for daemon related works or just my works in general in the comments below or through this form! :)

thank you for reading! if you liked it, likes, comments and reblogs are always highly appreciated! merry late xmas guys 😘🎄

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crazyco0tz · 2 months

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{Stray kids calling you ma’am}

Written!reaction

Hyung line

Warnings: slightly suggestive, feminine pronouns used for reader

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) (:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) (:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧

He only calls you ma’am when he’s either “scared” of your authority or when he’s trying to sweet talk you it’s a 50/50 chance of it working or backfiring

you and Chan were currently baking just a small batch of cookies, you were following your mothers recipe since it’s the best cookie you’ve ever had, what you shouldn’t have done is leave him in control of the ingredients proportions

after all the mixing was done you were ready to put them in the oven but you wanted a little taste test, you pick up a small clump and pop it in your mouth and froze, this was not your moms cookies

you slowly turn to Chan who was reading back over the written out recipe with a slightly worried look he slowly looks back up at you being met with your scowling eyes, you both realized the mistake he made

“so channie…” He gulps before shakily replying “yes babe…”

“tell me, how much honey does that paper call for.” He slightly smiled appreciating the seriousness you take with your mom homemade recipe

“uhm… it says one teaspoon per 1/2 a cup of flour, and I just put one tablespoon” you chuckle “so you know what you did wrong?”

“yes ma’am” he looks up shyly hoping the name will cool you off, surprisingly it did

“well good, atleast you own up to it!” He pops his head up shocked at your relatively calm reaction; is she seriously not going to punish me? I’m free?

“well I still want my moms cookies. So while these bake your going to make another batch, THE RIGHT WAY” you cross your arms with a smirk

Chan sighed wishing he hadn’t jinxed it “yes ma’am” he turns around the grab another bowl while secretly smiling, “she’s even pretty when she’s upset” he thought

after your put the cookies in you walk over to give him a little peck on the cheek before sitting down at the bar to watch him struggles with a flushed face

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨

He uses it to tease hoping you’ll do something about it and gets upset when you shrug it off, he also likes to call you that when he’s being scolded, he’s just bratty about it

“just admit it min you did that on purpose!” You guys were in a very intense smash bros battle, you both are at one life and you sure as hell weren’t losing to his bratty smack talk, but RIGHT before you were about the ultimate him he “accidentally” closed out of the game

a gasp left your lips before snapping your neck to the side ready to chew him out

“YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE DIDNT YOU!!!” He smirks before looking away “no ma’am I would neverrr” he giggles at the angry face you put on

“oh you think this is funny?” He nods in response still giggling lightly

you scoff “oh I’ll show you funny” you pull him out of his sitting position by his wrist then slammed him on his back

his eyes widen “ohhh is this a punishment ma’am?“ you laugh at his confidence “no, but this is” you quickly rush your fingers up his sides while scratching lightly at his skin, you know his sides are very ticklish

*“aAHHHHH, S-STOP Y/N!!” laughter took over both of your while Minho started tearing up over how hard he was laughing

“I ADMIT IT, IT WAS ON PURPOSE!!” He try’s desperately to push you off, but the laughter made him weak

you finally give in and pull your hands off; he launched up ready to screech about how unfair that was before realizing that probably won’t be the best idea

he huffed and crossed his arms over his chest awaiting for you to say something; “if we start another round are you going to cheat again min?” He sighs while resting his head on his hands

“no ma’am. I’ll play fair” lifting off his hands to rest his head on your shoulder in defeat, but it was all worth it when he got a very long kiss on the forehead which made him shiver

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧

He doesn’t do it to get his way, he just does it out of respect he wants to show you how much he respects you as a person, you want something he’s there, you ask for something he is there!

“binnie be a dear and get me a glass of wa-” “YES MA’AM!!” Sitting up so fast he made him self a little dizzy

“slowly bin jeez don’t pass out” he turns around “I’m fine! I’ll get you your water :)” happily bouncing out of the room to retrieve your water

he is always willing to do any simple task your not bothered enough to do

once he comes back with the glass in hand he places it on your nightstand before hopping back in bed with you reaching for your arm to hold on to, as you continue to scroll on your phone the nickname finally caught up to you

“ma’am huh” you speak softly he lifts his head up to meet eye to eye, “what?” He whispered. “Oh I find it cute that you call me ma’am, makes me feel like you actually take me seriously” his mouth agapes slightly; “well of course I take you seriously?” He furrows his eyebrows “You think I didn’t?”

you chuckle “no it’s just a cute quirk that’s all I’m saying binnie” he smiled widely “ok y/nnie!”

hes so happy to have literally anything to do with you <3

𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧

Similar to changbin he just wants to show his respect for you, you could order him to do any measly task and he’ll gladly do so to earn good boy points

you just made up a list of a few tasks that need to be done while your gone, now you just need to stick them to hyunjin

“jinnie I have a few things I need you to do” he turns around from his desk where he’s currently drawing “yes jagi? Like what?” He tilts his head curiously “just some chores don’t get to excited, pretty please clean up the kitchen and do both mine and your laundry, and tidy your mess in here” he jumps up out of his chair “oh yes ma’am! It’ll all be done before your get back”

you laugh at his enthusiasm “well you don’t need to do it that fast, I don’t want you to tax yourself” he gasps while smacking his hands on his face “are you saying I’m to weak too handle a little laundry! I’m strong I can do it see!” He flexed his arms at you

“uhm ok… aslong as It’s done jinnie” You run over to give him a goodbye kiss and a hug before running out the door

throughout the day you checked in on him to make sure he was ok (he can’t go 10 minutes without talking to you so it was mostly him texting)

once you got back everything was clean, spotless. Until you heard groaning from the coach, you drop your back and walk over to see Hyunjin laying down watching the TV while massaging his arms

“you cleaned everything didnt you?” “…yes ma’am” You sigh “Did you stretch before picking up the furniture, he looks away; “no I forgot..” you chuckle “of course you did, well I’ll give you a nice massage while we watch TV” he smiles at your care for him

he always does more than you ask and sometimes he doesn’t know when it’s good enough

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey sweetie!!!

This prompt was my original idea and I’m so sorry for the lack of request responses but here is a little something!!

Pt.2 will be coming soon!! Byeee💋

#kpop fluff #kpop reactions #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids #kpop #bang chan #changbin #minho #hyunjin #hyung line

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

it's perfect, chef | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | bonus smut scene from 'still into you'

summary: carmy surprises you with a ring & an engagement dinner, but you're not hungry yet. bonus scene that takes place after the last chapter of 'still into you' sunday (you'll want to read this first)

warnings: fluff, engagement smut, swearing, 18+ only

wordcount: 3.9k

a/n: here is the long-awaited bonus engagement smut that i owe @carmensberzattos. i think this is the spiciest smut scene i've written them yet. also, hypothetically, if i wrote some cute fluffy shit about them getting married/planning... would you read that? y/n?

(^^ this is NOT an amatriciana BUT this scene is 'chef' is the same energy so it felt right.)

And you think to yourself, that maybe, this was always how it was supposed to be.

You can’t stop smiling.

Your eyes flicker from the ring on your finger to where Carmy stands over the stove. He’s put his apron back on, very serious about this engagement dinner he’s got planned for you. You watch as Carmy begins pulling the sauce together, giving the pan a shake over the gas burner in your shared apartment. Carmy uses the wooden spoon to evenly distribute the onion and guanciale mixture across the bottom of the pan once more.

It’s perfect, really, that he’s decided to make you an amatriciana for your engagement night. The man knows you love a Roman pasta, and you love that they’ve managed to play such a special part in your love story.

You glance back down at your phone, seeing a slew of messages in your group chat with Syd and Sugar, in response to the picture of the ring you snapped earlier:

Sugar: HE DID IT!!! HE GAVE YOU THE RING!

Syd: We did good, huh?

Sugar: You’re welcome ;)

Syd: It really is a beautiful ring. We love you!!!! Go enjoy your night, but spare us the details please.

You’re so focused on your group text with Sugar and Syd that you don’t notice how close Carmy hasn’t gotten to where you’re perched on top of the kitchen island.

“Health code violation, don’t you think?” he teases you, giving your thigh a little squeeze.

You look up from your phone, letting out a small laugh as you lock eyes with your now fiance. While grabbing the bowl of tomato passata, he maintains eye contact, the smallest smirk on his face as he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Carmy takes a few steps away from where you sit, causing your heart to beat a hell of a lot faster. That can’t be all he came over here for you, could it?

“Good thing our place is not a restaurant then,” you reply, your gaze following him as he returns to the stove.

Even though he’s gone back to cooking, Carmy’s touch lingers on your skin. You can still feel the pads of his fingers along your inner thigh and you’re not sure if you’re ever going to get your heart rate back down. You clear your throat in an attempt to collection yourself before offering:

“Need any help?”

Your ears fill with the sound of the tomato sauce hitting the searing hot pan as Carmy responds, “I got this babe.”

He steals a glance your way, before giving the sauce a shake in the pan. You swallow, watching as his forearm muscles flex prominently as he grips the hand of the saucier. He swirls the pan a few times, creating an emulsion of the ingredients inside, and it suddenly feels five degrees hotter in the room. You’re like a moth transfixed by a flame as you hop off of the kitchen island, taking a few steps to where he stands.

“Can I at least watch, then?” you ask, suggestively.

A smile spreads across Carmy’s lips as he feels your hand snake around his waist, your fingertips dipping underneath the hem of his shirt. He hisses in response to your touch, as your fingertips hit the hard planes of his abdomen.

“Baby…” he sighs out, a smirk on his face as you press your forehead against his shoulder. “What’re you up to?”

“Nothin’,” you answer innocently, even though there’s not a single innocent intention behind this. You bite down on his shoulder blade gently, earning another laugh from his lips.

He chuckles, “Doesn’t feel like nothin’.”

You giggle, “Just testing your focus, is all.”

You pull away from him almost instantly, pulling off to his left side. You press your back against the counter, leaning up against it as you watch what he’s doing. As Carmy leans over the stovetop, reaching for the salt crock towards the back of the stove, you can’t help but notice the newly exposed skin the hem of his shirt has revealed.

Did his perfect vintage jeans always sit that low on his hips?

Down girl… you remind yourself.

“You tell Sugar and Syd yet?” Carmy asks, changing the subject.

“Yeah. They’re very excited that you gave me the ring,” you reply, trying to distract yourself.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We have a group text, actually.”

“Uh oh,” Carmy sounds, shooting you another look.

You smile wickedly before reassuring him, “Nothing to worry about it. They’re happy you finally, and I quote, did it right.”

“You three in a group text? Got nothin’ to worry about. Sure,” he replies with a playful eye roll, completely unconvinced that this group text is nothing to worry about.

“I thought maybe we could call Liz and Maya after dinner. Or maybe tomorrow depending on what we get up to tonight,” you suggest.

“Oh yeah?” Carmy replies, a hint of amusement in his ask.

He knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows he’s winding you up, teasing you till you’re begging for him to fuck you. And you hate that you love it so much.

Carmy leans towards you, his piercing blue eyes holding your gaze for a moment, watching you squirm.

“I uh-, need to get a spoon,” he says, gesturing towards the drawer you’re standing in front of. His lips are inches away from yours and you forget to breathe for a second.

His lips practically ghost over yours when you don’t move and you have to admit that you're so turned on by this little game of cat and mouse. But you’re not going to let him win. Not yet. You bite back a moan, nodding your head and stepping aside, murmuring a ‘sure.’

You run a hand through your hair, trying to calm yourself down. Carmy grabs a spoon, returning to where he’s planted himself in front of the stove. He dips the spoon into the sauce to taste for seasoning, and you can see the gears turning in his head.

“A little more salt,” he murmurs to himself, before adding another pinch.

“Can I try?” you ask, bold enough to get close to him again.

You’re not sure if you’ll have the self-control to resist him, but you’re not sure you’ll care by then.

He laughs dryly, dipping the spoon back into the sauce.

“Let me know what you think, chef,” he replies, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He holds the spoon out as you open your mouth to taste. He doesn’t look away and neither do you, until the tangy, salty tomato sauce hit your tongue.

Fuck.

You close your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.

“It’s perfect, chef,” you answer, opening your eyes.

Carmy smiles smugly in response.

Because he knows it is.

Because he knows he has you right where he wants you.

The only thing that could rip him away from you in this moment is the sound of the pot of water he has on the stovetop coming up to a boil. It feels near-impossible to rip his attention away from you, but he does, throwing handfuls of salt into the stock pot, with his deli container of dried rigatoni following.

He sets a timer, before stirring the pasta water a few times.

You’re hungry. Sure. But between his perfect amatriciana and this little game you’ve been playing, you’re not sure you can wait any longer.

Dinner will just have to wait.

“Carm?” you ask, your voice coming out breathier than you anticipated.

“Hm?” he hums in response, completely satisfied with just how worked up he’s gotten you.

“I… need your help with something,” you drag out, as he turns to you.

“Yeah?” he asks, coyly.

“Yeah,” you answer.

Using your left hand, that left hand, you pull him towards you so that he’s dangerously close to you now. Your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips before reaching up to press your lips to his. Carmy kisses you with the confidence of a man that knows he’s got you in the palm of his hand, pulling you in towards him for more.

“This what you need help with?” he asks, as you feel his lips twist into a smile against yours.

“Yeah,” you answer, in between sucking on his top lip.

“It’s just…” you start innocently, tugging his hand to follow you. “Nat and I had some snacks right before I got back. Didn’t know my very sexy chef fiance would be here making me dinner and asking me to marry him again.”

In between kisses you manage to continue backing the two of you up against the kitchen island now.

“Think I need a little help working up an appetite.”

You hear him laugh against your lips, before turning his head towards the stove.

“But what about the pasta?” he teases, cockily.

You pull away for a moment, and with a shake of your head you reply, “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

Carmy laughs again before grabbing you back the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss. In an instant he’s hoisting you up onto the kitchen island so that you’re seated there once again, nudging your legs open to make space for him.

“You set a timer right?” you manage to ask, wrapping your legs around his waist. You run your hands down his chest as Carmy’s eyes follow, focused on the engagement ring he’s just put on your finger.

Fuck it.

The pasta can wait.

“Yeah, but that means we got ten minutes,” he finally answers, looking up at you.

You smirk, satisfied, “That’s plenty of time.”

He can’t believe this is real.

He can’t believe he deserves this, and yet, you make him feel like he does.

He grabs your hands to stop them, before focusing all of his attention on your left hand. He looks down, focused on your body and everything he wants to do to you.

His fiance.

His future wife.

His Mrs. Carmen Berzatto.

“This what you want, pretty girl?” Carmy rasps, kissing your ring finger.

You watch as he bows he head to you, his mouth leaving slow kisses up your arm. He’s gentle in the way that his lips brush against the tattoo on your forearm, and then into the crevice of your elbow. You sigh as he drags his lips up your bicep and your shoulder, before burying his face into the space between your shoulder and your neck.

“This what you need help with?” he asks you again, his voice low and sultry.

“Yes, baby,” you whimper, as he leaves a gentle bite on your neck. His tongue snakes out, quick to soothe the sting of his teeth, and you’re leaning your head back, offering up more of yourself to him.

Carmy’s hands trace up your thighs, tugging on your hips so that they press up against his. You grind your hips against his denim clad hips, searching for any kind of friction you can get. With the movement of your hips, Carmy chuckles confidently. He knows he’s dragging this out, teasing you for distracting him and possibly ruining his flawless amatriciana with your desire for him.

Finally, finally, he crashes his lips into yours again, letting out a groan as surrenders to his own desire. Your hands are everywhere: in his hair, wrapping around his shoulders, grasping greedily at his back as he bucks his hips between your legs.

“Wanna move this to the bedroom?” you pant, in between kisses.

“Nah,” Carmy smirks in response, watching your face twist into a look of confusion. But he can’t deny you for too long, his next words sending you into a frenzy.

He grabs a handful of your hair before whispering against your lips, “I wanna take you right here.”

“Carmen,” you gasp in surprise, feeling him pull on your hair.

“In all the kitchens we’ve worked in together,” he starts, fire in the way his voice sounds. “Can’t believe we’ve never done this.”

“Think that’d definitely be a health code violation,” you tease him, before bucking your hips against his. You can feel how hard he is, if the tent in his pants and progressively tight-feeling jeans wasn’t enough.

“Think about that a lot, Carm? Hoisting me up over my prep station in the middle of my mise and taking me right there?”

“Fuck yes,” he groans, feeling you bite into his chest.

He gives you a half smile, before he’s untying his apron, throwing it somewhere on the kitchen floor. He returns to you in an instant, and you’re practically ripping his t-shirt from his body along with yours. Your mouth is on his again, your tongues tangling in a dance for dominance. Carmy’s hand is in your hair, his hips pressed against yours, and he’s laying you back on the kitchen counter.

He thanks his past-self for cleaning up earlier. He’d hate to have to break any of your favorite ceramics by shoving them off of the kitchen island, his mind completely clouded with his need to consume you. He lets himself get lost in the heated makeout. He loves the little noises you make, the way your skin tastes underneath his tongue when he kisses your neck, the way you run your fingers through his curls as you whine his name.

“Baby,” you sigh as his mouth moves from your neck to your breasts.

Carmy’s pulling one of the cups of your bra down, exposing your right breast.

“Fuck,” you gasp, as you feel his tongue snake out to draw circles around your nipple, causing your to arch your back. He’s hard at work, earning moans from you with his mouth pressed against one of your nipples when the timer for the pasta goes off, interrupting you.

“Fuck!” he practically shouts.

“Shit.”

You laugh, flattening your back against the kitchen counter before sitting up. Carmy looks so upset that it’s almost funny. He swears again before returning to the stovetop. He’s quick to use a mesh sieve to pull the rigatoni noodles out of the boiling pot of water and into the saucier. You laugh again, watching him, because of course he can’t help himself.

“You okay, Carm?” you tease him.

He shoots you a playful glare, shaking the pan a few times. After giving the pasta a few tosses in the pan, he’s practically slamming the stainless steel pan down on the stovetop, flicking both burners off, before returning to you.

“Now where were we?” he asks, his voice gruff with lust.

You’re more than happy to pick up where you left off.

“I think somewhere around here,” you say, pulling your bra off in one swift motion.

“Jesus,” Carmy groans again, his hands moving up to your breasts.

“And I think… you had me on my back,” you say flirtatiously, as you lay back over the kitchen island.

“Fuck, babe,” he hisses, his hands snaking up and down your torso. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you confirm as he glides his hands over you.

And he’s back to work, consuming you with his mouth and tongue as you arch your back off of the kitchen island. You let out the most surprised gasp as Carmy practically yanks your shorts off, tossing them and the pair of panties you’re wearing onto the floor to join the rest of your discarded clothes.

Carmy takes his time, leaving kisses and love bites along your inner thighs, and you know this is payback. He has you breathless, dripping wet and squeezing around nothing before he’s even put his mouth on you. He’s got you so wound up that when he finally licks a broad stripe up your core, you’re screaming his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. He’s gotten so damn good at this over the years. It’s not that he’s ever been bad at it… but the way he’s memorized everything you like, what makes you tug at his hair when he’s between your legs like this, what makes you come undone, has you cumming faster than you ever thought you could.

Carmy’s got one hand palming at your breasts while the other holds your opposite leg open as he eats you out. Your legs are practically shaking as you cum, and he’s not letting you go anywhere. Not letting you have a single moment of relief as his tongue works you over, his fingers buried deep inside of you.

“Holy shit, Carm,” you sigh, trying your best to catch your breath.

He finally looks up at you, his mouth wet with your slick as he wipes it against the back of his hand.

“Don’t think I’m done with you,” he promises, his eyes locked in a gaze with yours.

Before you can pull yourself together, he’s wrapped your legs around his waist, and he’s dragging you off the kitchen counter and over to the couch. You want nothing more than to ride him as he lays you down on the couch, hovering over you. You watch as he removes his jeans and briefs, stepping out of them. You swear your heart skips a beat as you see his erection standing hard against his abdomen.

“Let me ride you,” you beg, sitting up on the couch. You reach for him, wrapping a hand around his dick, earning a hiss from him at the feel of your soft hand.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” he smirks, because he has other ideas. He makes his way down to the couch with you, moving you so that you’re on top of him. “Not yet at least.”

You shoot him a look of confusion as you straddle him, before letting out a yelp as he moves you up his body. You practically have to catch yourself on the edge of the couch with his movements, as soon as you realize what he’s doing. Carmy’s got you straddling his face, wrapping an arm around your waist, so that he can taste you again. You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm that you cry out as he pulls you down against his mouth.

“Carmy, I can’t-. I-, I’m too sensitive,” you wince, feeling his tongue move over your clit in feverish circles.

He shakes his head, earning another moan from you as you feel the drag of his mouth against you. You try to sit up, try to pull away, but he must’ve known you’d try something like this as the arm wrapped around your waist catches you from moving any further.

“Nuh uh,” he tuts, scolding you as he holds you in place. “You said you wanted me to help, sweet girl. So I’m helping.”

You know it’s no use, as those are the last words you hear him say before he’s pulling you down to him again, his mouth and tongue back on you. You feel the tip of his nose bump against your clit, and you’re begging him to make you cum again, surrendering to the beautiful, pleasurable torture he insists on inflicting on you. Carmy’s hands move to your ass, keeping you pressed against him as he works you over, refusing to let up.

Two can play at this game, you decide.

You bring your fingertips up to your mouth, sucking them for a moment to gather enough saliva, before reaching back behind you. Your wet fingertips meet his hard cock, aching to be touched. With your back arched, you use your saliva and his precum to stroke his length, earning a groan from Carmy against you. You can feel him bucking up into the hand you’ve wrapped around him, moaning against you as you continue to ride his face. The vibrations are too much as another orgasm rips through your body, as you let out another sob of pleasure.

Satisfied, Carmy finally releases you, and you’re not sure how you manage to hold yourself up over him. Breathless, he slides you down his body, your knees straddling his hips as you kiss him. You can taste yourself on his mouth, as you drop your hips, dragging your pussy against his hard on.

“Fuck, babe,” he groans, because you feel too fucking good.

“You gonna let me ride you yet?” you ask, your voice low and sultry.

“Please,” he replies, his pupils completely blown out in pure lust.

Your knees dig into the couch as you sit tall, grabbing his thick cock before guiding him into you. You both gasp at first contact, and the way he feels inside of you sends chills down your spine. You start to move your hips slowly, grinding against him as Carmy closes his eyes in pleasure.

He’s enjoying this too much.

And he gets to do it forever.

With you.

With one hand on his chest, bracing yourself, you begin to speed up the motion of your hips. Carmy lets out another moan, bucking his hips up into you. You close your eyes, throwing your head back in pleasure when you feel the slightest pressure on your neck as a tattooed hand wraps around your throat. You moan, beginning to fuck yourself faster on your boyfriend.

With a groan, Carmy sits up straight, both arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. The change in angle makes your eyes roll back as he begins to thrust up into you with a fervor you’ve been wanting all night.

The room is filled with the sounds of the kitchen overhead fan, the sounds of slapping skin, and both of your moans as he pushes you closer to your third orgasm.

“Jesus Christ, baby. You feel so good,” he murmurs, lost in pleasure. “Always feel so good. Like you were made for me.”

“I love you,” you whisper back, tangling your left hand with his right.

Carmy glances over to your ring, then back to you, his eyes trained on yours as he explores this deeper angle.

“I’m gonna come, pretty girl. Shit,” he swears, his thrusts becoming more and more desperate.

“Me too, Carmy. Fuck… make me come again,” you beg him.

You let him fuck you till you’re squeezing around him, gripping his shoulders, with your face buried in his neck as he follows suit. Carmy grunts, filling you up, pausing the motion of his hips while he’s still inside of you. You pull back with a sigh, trying to catch your breath as you brace yourself on his shoulders.

He leans in, planting one more kiss to your lips, a fucked out grin stuck on his face.

“Hungry now?”

You laugh, “Absolutely.”

Carmy fills two pasta bowls with a sigh, using a microplane to grate over more cheese for garnish.

“Doubt it’ll be al dente but…” Carmy apologizes with a shrug, though he’s not sorry that you took a much needed sex break.

Still shirtless, you watch your boyfriend move towards you, bowl of pasta and a fork in hand. He’s slipped on a pair of sweatpants while you wear one of his old Original Chicagoland Beef t-shirts you found in the clean pile of clothes.

He hands the bowl to you, where you sit on the kitchen island once again, a smirk on his face as he remembers what transpired here moments ago.

You dig your fork into a rigatoni noodle, before raising it to your lips and taking a bite. Instantly, you’re met with the taste of what you swear could be the world’s most perfect amatriciana, even if the noodles are cooked past al dente. You can tell he’s watching you, searching for a reaction as you close your eyes with a groan.

By the time you open your eyes again, a stupid smile plastered to your face, all you say to Carmy is:

“It’s perfect, chef.”

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qqueenofhades · 2 years

Note

One of my favourite Sandman lore pieces I absorbed via tumblr is how, when Dream is having great sex, all the dreamers get to have glorious lustful dreams. Dream really is getting laid and making it everybody else's problem. Magnificent.

Dr. Robert Gadling is whistling an extremely cheery tune as he unlocks his office door -- which, if you had had the night he did, you would be whistling too, or possibly even clicking your heels like a demented leprechaun and wishing top o' the morning to everyone who passed. He's not doing that, but he's definitely feeling extremely good, and he sails inside, pulls up the blinds, boots up his computer, and prepares to answer some emails while he waits to see if anyone's actually going to come to office hours. It's always hit or miss, and then four days later they send a panicked question at midnight that they could have just, you know, asked. In person, in a timely fashion, when he definitely will not bite. He will never understand undergraduates.

Hob keeps the door propped open as usual, thus to project a warm and welcoming attitude, and after he's trudged through the first tranche of emails, he glances up to see one of his students loitering in the hall as if she's about to come in -- then, catching sight of him, turning scarlet and racing off at top speed. This is bewildering, since she's usually among the more talkative of the bunch, but Hob writes it off. At least until he sees several more students hovering in the hallway, who all vamoose the instant he sticks his head out to see if they need anything. This is decidedly peculiar, and he sighs deeply, grabs his mug, and heads down the hall to the faculty lounge, thus to raid it for a cup of coffee. Even more emails (and oh joy, expense reports) await, and he could use the fortification.

When he steps inside, his colleagues Bryan (Economics and Politics in Modern Germany) and Amita (Women, Caste, and Religious Practice in Precolonial India) both immediately turn bright red, clear their throats, and engage in a slightly too-loud conversation about the weather (which, given as this is London, is exactly what you think it is). Hob eyes them curiously, since while bizarre behavior is understandable from students, it is somewhat less so from lecturers. "Hey, guys," he says. "Anything up?"

"Er." Bryan is staring fixedly at the floor, while Amita has become unaccountably fascinated by the raindrops rolling down the window. "Nope. No. Everything normal, Rob. Entirely usual."

"Right," Hob says slowly, having the feeling of a man who has walked into a cave and found something large and furry that he should try not to disturb. "That's just me going, then. If I could sneak past you for the coffee pot, that'd be great -- "

He pours himself some coffee, departs in haste, and almost bowls over Philippa, Head of Department, in the hallway outside. They spring backward like a pair of opposing magnets, he manages to avoid dousing her in boiling hot coffee, and as he apologizes, notices that she is likewise determinedly not looking him in the eye and addressing a spot in midair over his head as she insists that it's fine. What the actual hell. Has everyone in Goldsmiths lost their bloody minds?

The insanely weird character of Hob's day, and the fact that even the clerk at Superdrug seems to cough unaccountably while ringing him up, remains a mystery until he gets home, finds an eager Dream Lord waiting for him already, and they get extremely distracted even before Hob can make dinner. Afterward, as they're lying half-clothed and decadent on the bed, Hob murmurs, "Well, glad you at least can stand to look at me, love. Had a very odd time of it today."

Dream's expression assumes a furtive, guilty quality. He rolls onto his back, head still pillowed luxuriantly on Hob's stomach, and stares up at the ceiling. "Ah," he says, after a very long pause. "About that."

(Two minutes of a deeply humiliating explanation later, Hob screeches, "YOU BLOODY DID WHAT?" Dream apologizes profusely and promises not to do it again. Hob does, of course, have classes and commitments for the rest of the semester, but hopefully it's not too late to change his name, once more fake his death, and move to Australia. Except, of course, they dreamed of him there too. Horrible.)

#anonymous #ask #dreamling #dreamling ff #i absolutely did see that post like 'nobody can look hob in the eye after he and dream first get it on'#so yes a+ bless

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rookthorne · 7 months

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

After a bad night, you convalesce your slumber into the living room, only, when you awoke, something precious awaited you.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ☤ Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ☤ 770

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ☤ Tooth rotting fluff

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ☤ I think Buck and Peanut are quickly becoming one of my favourites.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ☤ j's lullaby by Delaney Bailey

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ☤ @allcapsbingo 𝗜𝟱 — Leaving Notes — Masterlist ☤ @anyfandomfluffbingo 𝗡𝟱 — Love Letter — Masterlist

𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Sleep was a fickle thing – it ebbed and flowed worse than the high tide of the ocean, and it was just as inescapable and destructive. The nature of sleep, for you, had always been something that was indescribable, more so for the very fact that it was just something that never cooperated.

Insomnia was a beast that could never be tamed and as a result, you were left battle worn and weary every time the sun rose to start a new day.

It did not stop the earth from turning, nor did it freeze the hours of the day; no matter how far behind you were or how much of a wrung out sponge you felt like.

Bucky knew this. He had watched you struggle through yawns wider than the grand canyon and he had stuck by you when you were too exhausted to even leave your bed – bringing you a manner of all things that you needed to at least get the energy to sit up. And it was never a big deal if you couldn’t, he was there, soothing words and gentle touches in abundance.

Last night was one of the worst ones yet. You had lain awake, tossing and turning in the covers of your bed while Bucky tried his best to get you to settle until he himself had fallen asleep. In no way did you begrudge him that, either. Bucky had a job, one of which demanded all of his energy and focus to save lives.

The early hours sought no relief, so you conceded defeat and rose quietly, taking your phone with you to the living room where the couch would have to be in the way of a bed. Blankets and pillows were more than readily available, so you piled a couple onto one end of the couch and began to set up your makeshift bed; sure to keep silent, lest you wake him up.

You settled in under the fluffy, soft blankets, and sighed heavily as you stared at the wall opposite the couch. Picture frames covered the wall; memories of all the times passed where you felt human, and less like a walking zombie.

Days, hours later, you couldn’t tell or make sense of it, you opened your eyes to find the curtains and blinds still drawn. You blinked and rubbed your eyes from the remnants of sleep, then looked around. The bedroom door was open, the room dark, and the kitchen was bright with sunlight – the only source of natural light that you could discern.

“How long did I sleep for,” you mumbled and sat up, a grimace of pain twisted your mouth into a deep frown. “Hell–Bucky, his lunch–?”

You glanced around again and spotted a tray on the blanket box. A plate of food sat on one side while a bowl of cereal on the other, and in the middle, a tall glass of water next to a steaming mug. “Wha–?”

Leaning closer, you found a piece of paper from the notepad on the kitchen bench tucked under the plate. Loopy handwriting was half visible – Bucky’s neat script. You gently pulled it free, unfolded it, and lay back down.

It was a small note, one that wasn’t hastily rushed and written if you could judge by the neatness of the script, and the way his love seemed to pour into every line and drip of ink. You smiled as you read each line, the swoop of your heart making you breathless.

Peanut, baby,

I couldn’t wake you up, you looked so sweet. I know it’s been really hard these past few days especially, but I just need you to know that I’m here. No matter what. I always have been, and I always will be.

I know you’re tired, and I know you’re exhausted, but you still keep fighting.

My warrior. My hero – that’s what you are.

They say that those of us on the front lines are the ones that need to be honoured and worshipped and called the heroes. I think they are wrong.

It’s you. You’re the one that needs to be called a hero, ‘cos heroes never give up even when they’re facing the hardest trials, and all that shit.

Just… Baby, you know I could never not love you. You are too entangled into my soul, who I am, that I just can’t. You are always with me. And I’m so fucking happy that I get to call you mine.

I will see you when I get home tonight, alright? Enjoy breakfast and make sure to keep up your fluids, please.

Your Bucky.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #allcapsbingo2023 #rookthorne's works

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httpsryu · 1 year

Text

"I'm not jealous!"

pairing: hwang yeji x fem sserafim!reader

summary: yeji stumbled upon a clip of you and your members on twitter and can't help but to get upset at the fact that no one understands 'personal bubble space'

genre: fluff and a tiny bit of angst

warnings: jealousy

a/n: AAAA this is my first writing so i apologize how messy and uncoordinated everything is! lmk if any of this has any mistakes and i'll fix them! feel free to request!

after an exhausting day of practice, all the girls sat around the tv hoping to find a movie or show in a way to take their minds off of their upcoming world tour and comeback.

upon getting comfortable on the couch, yeji was scrolling along twitter on her private account while waiting for ryujin to stop on a channel.

until stumbling upon a video from a ‘yuny/n’ account, in which the user posted what seems to be a clip from the recent vlive of your group, she squints at the sight of yunjin getting too comfortable resting on your shoulder while looking at you in a fond way.

yeji suddenly sits up which gathers one of the member's attention. curiousity gets the best of her as her thumb simultaneously scrolls on the screen, eyes glaring down at the comments under the post

‘yunjin is so clingy towards y/n, it’s adorable’ ‘y/n has given up in the middle of the live, she gave in to yunjin’ ‘yunjin and y/n is real’ ‘not sakura trying to grab y/n’s attention PLEASE’

the hold on her phone tightening, her mouth doing an ‘upside smile’ in frustration, dimple appearing right besides it

“they don’t even know who she’s actually dating.” she mutters to herself, rolling her eyes and ignoring her member’s eyes on her.

ryujin stops flipping through the channels, glancing over at the leader and wondering why she’s talking to herself over there. she's always known her best friend was weird but not THAT WEIRD.

“who the hell are you talking to?”

jisu snickers, coming back from the kitchen with a bowl of cereal in her hand. “she’s going through withdrawals of not seeing y/n"

yeji huffs, searching up the vlive and giving a watch herself.

1 minute in, she's already fuming at how chaewon kept smooshing her cheeks against yours.

"chaewon is stronger than me, i would've kissed y/n" yuna teases yeji, peering over the leader's shoulder in amusement.

the cat-eyed glares at the youngest. "shut up!"

hearing some loud squeals from her phone, yeji diverts her attention back down at her phone and scoffs at what the members are laughing about. in a form to tease you, yunjin placed a quick kiss on your cheek in which you respond with an eye roll and a tired sigh.

'saving this clip to my phone' 'thank you yunjin for bringing yuny/n back alive' 'we were dying of starvation from the lack of moments'

closing out of the app, yeji immediately rushes over to her messaging app and sending way too many texts to you, one involving that she's coming over and wants to see you because she misses you (totally isn't jealous or anything).

after getting permission from chaewon to take a walk, you take the elevators to the rooftop of hybe’s building where yeji and you would typically have your dates, either here or jyp’s building.

upon the doors of the elevator peering open, you see your girlfriend sitting down at against the glass walls of the balcony. yeji looks up from her phone and stands up at the sight of you.

her arms opening wide automatically at the sight of you running towards her, tackling her into a long awaited hug. she lets out a laugh at the way her girlfriend is clingy, stroking the back of your head.

"i missed you so much." you mumbled in the crook of her neck, still clinging onto her like a koala.

the older places a kiss on the side of your head. "i missed you more."

removing yourself from her, you pulled back and take a long look at the leader of itzy. "it's kind of strange for you to meet me at this time, out of nowhere too..."

yeji scrunches her nose, a habit she does around you because she knows how much you adore her mole. "i can't call my lovely girlfriend to come hang out with me?"

"at 4 am, it's kind of strange."

the older hummed, acknowledging why you would assume so. she bites on her tongue. wondering if she should ask about your members or not.

"what's wrong?" you ask, taking notice of how silent she suddenly got.

yeji shakes her head in response. but in reality, she's urging herself to communicate with you about what's been eating her up since the ride to hybe's building.

without thinking much of it, she looks down at the pavement of the rooftop in order to ignore your eyes. "your members didn't forget you and i are dating, right?"

you on the other hand, however, was too tired for this. it's been like this each time. in the past, she's even told you to stop coming over to the dorms because it makes her feel uncomfortable with how close you are with ryujin and yuna. which you happily complied, trying and understanding from your girlfriend's point of view.

"huh?" now, what seems to be the issue now?

yeji shrugs, releasing her grip on you as she mutters under her breath while walking over and leaning against the balcony in an attempt to calm herself. "they seem to love clinging onto you like you're their girlfriend, huh?"

realizing that your beautiful girlfriend is jealous, a small grin makes its way to your face. you squeal in your head, following where the older is and hugging her from behind.

"you're jealous! that's so cute!"

yeji hangs in mouth in shock and turning around to face you, denying it immediately. "i'm not jealous!"

"you are too~" you tease your girlfriend, giggling at how the older girl is acting and placing a quick peck on her lips. "i only love you, you know that."

the leader of itzy rolls her eyes, ignoring the blush that crept up on her cheeks as she turns back around to look at the city down below. "i'm not jealous."

"you're so cute!"

#itzy x reader #yeji x reader #yeji imagines #hwang yeji #kpop x reader

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kywaslost · 8 months

Text

Heartburn - Keigo Takami

A/N: Working on requests has been a bit draining, and I’ve been in the mood to try and write for Hawks again so here’s this. Totally not based on how sick I felt the other night because of heartburn…

Warning/s: mentions of pills, mentions of vomit, gagging, and throwing up

Tears swelled in your eyes as you hunched over, slowly lowering yourself to fully brace yourself against the counter. Your phone dropped to the cool surface, switching to speakerphone as you awaited Hawks’ voice on the other end. You were begging anything and everything for him to pick up the phone. He didn’t answer the first time, and your facetime went unnoticed. You weren’t sure how much longer you could last without his help.

The pain just below your ribs increased and you couldn’t help but gag. Just as you were about to give up on the phone call, Hawks’ voice came through.

“Hey baby bird,” he cooed softly. “Everything ok?”

“Hey,” you replied quietly. “I need help.”

“What’s going on?” you could hear the worry in the hero’s response. “Are you hurt?”

“You know those chewy things for heartburn,” you began. “Can I take them with these pills in a pink bottle that says ‘stomach relief’?”

“Oh,” there was a soft chuckle on the other side of the phone. “You shouldn’t need to, but you can. The tums should work fairly quickly.”

“They ain’t tums,” you grunted, wrapping an arm around your chest. “They’re those chewy things.”

“Yeah I know what you’re talking about. They’re just a different type of tums.” Keigo was silent for a moment. “You have heartburn?”

“Bad,” you grimace again. “Just below my ribs. It hurts like hell. If I stand up for too long, or sit up too fast I feel like I’m gonna be sick. I took one of the chewy things earlier but it hasn’t done anything.”

“How long ago?”

You hummed in thought, glancing back at the stove in the kitchen. “Maybe 20 minutes ago? I don’t know, to be honest.”

“Take another one and give it another 10 or 20 minutes. If that doesn’t work then you can take the pills.”7

You nodded, knowing Hawks couldn’t see you. “Ok. Thank you.”

“Hope you feel better, dove. If you still feel nauseous when you go to bed, take some Zofran and have a bowl on standby. Make sure you drink plenty of water. I’ll be home in a few hours, but call me if you need anything else.”

You smiled slightly despite the pain in your chest and abdomen. “Ok, Kei. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.” You set the bottle of pills down on the counter, digging through the shoe box of medication for the chewable tums you had just tossed into the box. Then, you grabbed a glass of water and made your way to your room. You gently laid down on the bed, shaking another chewable medication into the palm of your hand before tossing it back into your mouth. You took a sip of water and lowered yourself down to lay on your side.

Time passed and the pain didn’t ease, so you shakily took two of the pink pills you had called hawks about. They were fairly large pills, causing you to gag once again as you took them with another sip of water.

You toss and turn for hours, hoping to find a position that could relieve your pain, even if just momentarily. The space between the base of your ribs hurt the worst and even just the slightest bit of pressure threatened to make you throw up right then and there. The pain was enough to keep you awake, but at the same time you were so exhausted you managed to doze in and out of sleep.

You awoke every 45 minutes to a new, achier type of pain just below your ribs. You tried adjusting your position but it only ever managed to make the pain worse, causing you to gag and desperately try to keep the contents of your stomach from covering your blankets. No matter what you did you couldn’t relieve the pain.

Hawks came home just past two in the morning, silently making his way through the apartment in search of you. He cracked your door open ever-so-slightly to see you asleep in bed. He took the opportunity to take a quick shower and change into his night clothes before checking in on you one last time.

Keigo gently lowered himself to sit on the edge of your bed, taking in your distraught look. Your arms were wrapped around your torso and you were curled into a ball. Your eyebrows were furrowed in what Keigo could only assume was pain. He wanted to wake you and try and help relieve the pain, but Hawks also knew that if you woke up you may not get back to sleep and that was something he didn’t want to risk. Against his better judgment, he stood slowly so as not to wake you and began walking towards your door.

He froze, however, when he heard you groan and then cough harshly, followed by what he could only assume was a gag. Whipping back around the winged hero rushed back to you. He sat beside you once again and gently rubbed your back with one hand, holding your hair with the other in case you did throw up.

You gagged one last time before coughing, rubbing at your chest, then leaning into Keigo’s arms. Your head rests against his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you, one drawing gentle circles into your bicep. His head lowered to rest on top of yours, but not before he pressed a light kiss against your hairline.

“Not feeling any better?” he whispered softly, holding you just the slightest bit tighter.

You could only shake your head and cry into his shirt. “Make it stop.”

Taking a look around the room, Keigo saw medicine sitting on your bedside table. He reached over, gentle not to jostle you too much, and unscrewed the lid to the pills. He returned the bottle to the stand, and in return picked up your glass of water. “Here,” he muttered, handing the pills to you. You swallowed them quickly, thankful for the water that Keigo pressed to your lips. The coolness of the liquid barely managed to soothe the everlasting ache, but it was a start.

“Let’s lay back down, yeah?” Keigo offered, guiding you to lay against his chest as he got under the covers. Once you were comfortable, he began to gently massage the areas that hurt you the most. “Do you feel like you may be sick?” he asked. When you shook your head and closed your eyes, Hawks hummed in content.

You continued to wake up every hour or so, but every time Keigo would wake with you and do anything he could to help put you at ease. He hated that you had heartburn this bad, and that it happened more often than you’d like. There had been countless times he would awaken in the morning to you asleep on the bathroom floor, where you had resided after being in so much pain it would make you sick.

But for now, all Keigo could do was hold you and comfort you until you felt better.

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anadiasmount · 9 months

Note

Hi can you do a husband christian pulisic writing where the reader is his wife and she goes to the Real Madrid vs AC Milan game at the Rose Bowl to support him and brings her and Christian kids or the reader can be expecting.

all for you - christian pulisic x reader.

summary: request above!

wc: 1,2k

hiii!! sorry if this is a bit short but here you go!!

masterlist

“Okay, Tobias. We have to get ready for Daddy’s game! You want to go right? I know dada wants you there,” you said excitedly, only watching your three-year-old smile grow wider as he jumped up and down. “Yes, Mommy! Please I want to see Dad. I miss him,” he expressed, hugging your left leg tightly. You ruffled his curls and picked him up, and him immediately hiding in the crook of your neck.

“I know baby, me too! So let’s hurry so we can go see him, and wish him the best of luck okay? Remember how I told you we had to move for daddy’s work?” you whispered bringing your hand and dragging it up and down gently across his back, feeling as he nodded when you asked the question. “Well, today we're going to see how he works okay! We need to be there for him, cheer him on, and support him and his new club.

Tobies nodded again and whispered some words of encouragement for Christian. Tobias absolutely adored his dad. Always wanting to be like him from day one. He always appreciated him when he was at home, there to comfort him after a long game or just a bad day. All the cuddles, kisses, hugs, playing in the yard with a football, going out to parks where it was private and quiet.

You appreciated the big and small moments as well. Christian loved you more than his life,, you and his son were the things that kept him living. His happiness around you mostly, as you taught him how to love himself and you. He couldn't be more grateful to have a stunning and supportive wife from day one. You never asked for a lot, but he always made sure to make you feel like you were his queen.

After bathing and changing Tobias, you set him down for his nap. Him quickly falling asleep after the long day of traveling the day before. You had so much time to get ready and plan the awaited surprise for him. You talked with him about kids, so much you were sure he was ready for this second baby. Maybe the timing was or wasn't right, but Christian is the happiest father. And you were sure he would be the happiest man alive once you told him

The US heat was always extreme, so you put your hair up in a slick back bun, taking a few pieces of hair from the sides to give it a messy look, you makeup natural as you weren't going to waste expensive products just for it to sweat off. You changed into the new AC Milan white jersey, paired with a pair of denim ripped shorts and some sneakers you loved to wear on a casual day out.

You packed your purse, along with some snacks and drinks for Tobias, knowing hell get cranky if he doesn't have them… just like his father… After making sure nothing valuable was left out, you headed downstairs to meet up with his family and some of the other wags. His mom immediately held you into a hug, super excited to have you once back in the States. His dad followed after with a polite greeting, spreading a few jokes that made you laugh.

The stadium was packed, you didn't expect it to be like this but it made you feel happy at the amount of support for both teams. Christian had a history with Madrid, the goods like beating them into the UCL final, but also when they lost terribly. You were sure he would leave his mark like he always did.

You took a seat next to his sister and mom, quickly getting into a conversation and sharing a few laughs. The game shortly started after, your gaze immediately landing on your husband, who looked too good to be true. His messy wet curls, the tattoos you loved so much, the jersey clinging onto dear life. Just as you knew, he quickly helped the team advance to the first two goals of the game, watching as he cheered and celebrated with them.

Just as you least expected it, the game resulted in a loss, after a player from Madrid scored twice, and then finally made it 3-2 lost. Sure it may have been a friendly and just for pre-season but you knew Christian would be upset, he always wanted to win no matter what. It was the trait you and he had in common, being competitive. Tobias was happy either way, wanting to just hug him and tell him he was proud. Your baby boy.

You walked down to the fields where he was looking around for you. You told him earlier you didn't feel good, so he began to get scared when you didn't show up with his family. He indulged them with hugs, and you sneakily stood back as his gaze kept wandering for you. You even heard him say, “Where Y/n? Did she come?” which made you laugh and give in. His eyes lit up at you and his son, who were behind him for the whole time.

He picked Tobias up, feeling as the small boy cuddle into him, “Hi Toby, what did you think of the game?” He quickly conversed, hearing his son let out his opinions of the game and even how he played. Smart just like him. He placed him on his hip and grabbed your face gently giving you a kiss. He rested his forehead against yours, already feeling your comfort. “How are you feeling?” you asked.

“I feel great. I don't as much for the loss, but knowing I helped the team contribute to goals is an amazing feeling,” he said hugging your waist as you walked around the field together, thanking fans. It's the only time you were public as a family, enjoying the privacy a bit more. “I’m happy for you baby. You’re going have to score more goals for the three of us now,” you said with a smirk, slowly revealing the surprise pregnancy.

Christian completely stopped and looked at you with wide eyes. “Three of us? What do you mean?” he asked, kind of already knowing the answer. “It means that, by next year, you’ll have another baby cheering you on from wherever you are,” you said. He sat Tobias down, who quickly went on to play with a football nearby. “There’s no way… We’re going to have another baby?” he asked holding your face with both hands. All you could do with nod before he picked you up and spun you around.

He laughed and set you down, quickly kissing you, over and over again. “Christian! Okay, I get it, baby,” you giggled, gripping his biceps. “I'm sorry but I just love you so much! Thank you Y/n. For making me and Tobias the luckiest people alive. This small family we both created is all ive wanted, and thanks to you. I am able to be the person I am,” Christian admitted, making your pregnancy hormones go crazy, letting a few tears out. You hugged him tight, kissing his jaw and neck, wanting him to feel the love back. “You’re welcome, Christian.”

“Daddy! And Mommy! I want a baby sister!”

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic blurb #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x you

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