#I need to stop posting things at like midnight here >.> | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bluesidez · 13 days

Text

[The Ideal Gaze]

lab tester: @ichigosluvrr 🩻

pairing: DadBod!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that he’s just in your lane.

content warning: established relationship (they’re married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguel’s new Dad Bod, deepthroat 😗, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times

word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you don’t mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)

Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway.

The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husband’s eyes this morning. Lately, it’s been like a little game to rile him up.

You’ve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.

It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyone’s lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself.

From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldn’t get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head.

You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying.

You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door.

It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband.

You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didn’t need to be digitized, a “Best Papá Ever” mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display.

In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasn’t until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button.

The early time didn’t stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming.

“Good morning, hubby,” you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island.

Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips.

You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response.

“Good morning. How was your jog?” he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest.

You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined.

“It was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,” you crossed your legs, impatient. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s better,” he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. “My wife is here now.”

You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips.

“I’m feeling better, too,” you whisper, waiting.

Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment.

When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you.

For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each other’s lips

“Come with me to the shower?” you say, eyes heavy and pleading.

You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back.

“I better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.”

Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that you’ve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection.

“Ok. I’ll be out soon,” you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but you’re trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and can’t help but feel like he didn’t want you.

With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it.

You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didn’t mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama.

Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom.

He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early.

What you didn’t expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door.

At first, you were a little hurt that he didn’t wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldn’t help but pleasure yourself.

He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours.

You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did.

When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues.

You let it go then, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about it all day.

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek.

“You look gorgeous, honey.”

Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?

You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.

“Baby, you know I can’t. I’m at work right now.”

You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time.

For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.

You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.

“And how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?” you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven.

“27!” she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet.

“Correct! You’re knocking ‘em out, girl!”

“Buen trabajo, mija,” Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. “You’re doing so well.” (Good job, mija.)

“Does this mean I can get a cookie?” she asked, quick to melt her father’s heart.

“Not before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,” Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly.

“Please, papá!” she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout.

Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10.

He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, “You have to ask Mamá.”

Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.

Gabriella’s shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.

“The answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,” you say, squeezing her cheek.

“You always say no,” Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dad’s.

“And you can always go to bed with no cookies,” you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. “Now go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.

Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, “She’s just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.”

You pause to put your hand on your hip, “No, she’s just like her Father when she can’t get her way. Whiny.” You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit.

“Well, I can’t say no to her just like I can’t say no to you,” he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. “You both have the same puppy-dog eyes.”

“You like leaving the hard parenting to me.”

“That is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,” he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.

You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didn’t have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure.

“Is he doing ok?” you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.

“We might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.”

You leave Miguel’s side to go squat down by Raul, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.

“My throat hurts, Mama,” he said, little voice just about gone.

“Oh, I know, my sweet baby,” you say with a soft voice. “Do you want me to make you some alphabet soup?”

Raul’s face twists up, lip a little wobbly, “But I want some cheese noodles.”

“Hey, it’s ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.”

“The cheese noodles are hot, too.”

You smiled, “That’s right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can. Can I give you a kiss?”

He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldn’t resist holding your baby, especially when you couldn’t take his pain away.

You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life.

As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner.

“Thank you for the food, Mommy,” Gabriella said with a toothy smile.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say, cutting Raul’s food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight.

The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raul’s wheezy breaths.

By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms.

You couldn’t ask for anything better.

With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think.

Did today’s small touches mean anything?

You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husband’s attention, but if you were honest, today’s brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldn’t stop your thoughts once you were alone.

You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasn’t trying too hard to get his attention, but you’re sure he’s going to notice it.

You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good.

When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,” you say.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.

He crawled on the bed next to you, “My band t-shirt?”

“Yeah! It’s comfy.”

He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much.

He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped.

He just…stopped.

“Well, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?

You felt your throat dry up, “Yeah, ok.”

He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said with a yawn.

“Night.”

You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you.

You’re starting to think the worst.

You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working.

He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time.

Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with.

Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.

Is he cheating on you?

You really didn’t want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldn’t take any more pain than it already had.

So, one day when you say you’re taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your mom’s place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house.

You pull back in the driveway to see that he’s still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you all’s bedroom.

Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguel’s voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You don’t think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high.

Miguel yells, scared to death but alone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice frustrated.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?”

You look at the state he’s in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand.

“Were you getting off?” you say, hands dropping to your side. “Do you…do you not love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Do you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time I’ve tried to initiate something with you. We haven’t made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You don’t even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until we’re out of breath. I’ve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now you’re here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.” Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat.

“Cariño, this is a misunderstanding,” he pleads, voice distraught. “I do love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“Because,” he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. “I…haven’t felt the greatest about my body.”

Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, “What? What do you mean?”

Miguel sighs.

“Lately, it’s getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, I’m way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man who’s a little less,” he gestures to himself, “let go.”

“Says who?”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, “Uh, everybody?”

“Well, who is everybody because I’d like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isn’t good enough for me.” You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguel’s space. “You’ll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.”

He looked like he could cry.

“Why did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?” you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp.

“It felt stupid and silly. You’ve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” you say, gripping his jaw firmly. “I’m your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling, express yourself with words. Don’t hide.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back.

“Oh my gosh,” you chuckled. “You were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore.”

So much for communication.

Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, “That’s the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I’ve been…”

“You’ve been what?”

“I,” he got red in the face. “I’ve been using your underwear.”

You look down to Miguel’s crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.

Your stomach turned with excitement.

“So this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?”

Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.

“Did it feel good?”

Another nod.

“I bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.”

You don’t know how, but his face got even warmer.

“You left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t know?” you ask, playfully. “I was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.”

You squeeze at his arms on your sides.

“I wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.”

You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.

“You do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. It’s proof of love for your family.”

Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.

“I love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.”

With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.”

With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldn’t stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.

“You like it that much?”

“Love it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,” you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. “You’re hot, baby.”

You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you say with a pout.

“I haven’t seen you like this since we won that couple’s retreat.”

“Not my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.”

You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguel’s cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight.

Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length.

The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep.

You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length.

“God,” Miguel’s voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. “I don’t think I’ll last that long.”

You let go of him and lick down the sides, “That’s because you’re too busy fucking other things instead of me.”

“’M sorry,” he whined as you went back down on him. “I-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.”

“Mm hm,” your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didn’t let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face.

The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldn’t have it any better.

You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, it’s been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.

You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him.

“Shit!” he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldn’t take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls.

He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically.

You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, “Finally.”

Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, “I’m like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.”

He growled as he pulled you closer.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. “I really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.”

He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.

After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you,” Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.

“Miguel,” you say, lifting your head. “I pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me ‘I can’t eat that, it’ll blow up my stomach,’ when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.”

“Ok. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much I’ve been staring at you?”

You clicked your teeth, “Yeah, but what does that mean when you don’t act on it?”

Miguel twisted his lip, “Will you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?”

You pinched him resulting in a yelp, “I’ll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.”

He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, “Let’s go before your mom calls.”

You giggle and swing your feet on the way.

After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time.

You, however, were clawing at Miguel’s back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress.

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguel’s cock dragged across your walls. “It feels so good.”

“Quiet, mi vida,” he whispered. “The kids are in their rooms.”

You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didn’t matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it.

It was all too much.

First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message.

Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.

“Miguel!”

“Hm? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t-” your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.

“You’re doing so good, Ma. You’re so good to me and the kids. You’re such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper.

“M-Miguel,” you say with your heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So, so deeply,”

That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.

“Papá! You have to be more careful,” Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. “You got hurt at work!”

Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you.

You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised.

“It’s ok, mija. Papá is tough!”

“But you gotta put something on it,” Gabriella said with a huff.

“Thank you for your concern, nena. I’ll get Mamá to take care of it, ok?” he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. “Now go sit with your brother and watch some TV.”

Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.

“What? You should put your shirt on!”

“That’s not what you said when you-”

“Hush and go get the aloe.”

Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, “Yeah, yeah.”

Life was wonderfully sweet.

With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

1K notes · View notes

youngtacoes · 18 days

Text

Strangers, no more

Cooper Howard aka The Ghoul x f!reader

Author's note: this is a long one !! i've had this scenario in my head for a long ass time and i just had to get it out on paper. cooper isn't as cruel in this one, sorry if that's not your thing, but he can be soft sometimes too! fyi: reader is 18+ and everything is consensual! If you're only here for the smut you can skip toward the end.

Word count: 6,8k

Summary: Cooper is a bounty hunter struggling for caps and you need to be transported safely across the wasteland in "good condition", luckily it pays well. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: 18+ Mentions of r*pe, impregnation & torture, religious cult, angst, virgin!reader, losing virginity, graphic smut

It was getting bad, really damn bad. Days of good-for-nothing bounty jobs, vial after vial, cough attack after cough attack. He needed the caps desperately if he was to keep himself from turning feral anytime soon. He’d been taking small jobs here and there, just enough to keep himself at bay for a few days, but he knew he couldn’t keep going at this rate for much longer. He needed a bigger job, a bigger cash prize, a bigger bounty, but every time he stopped by the wall of people with prizes attached to them, he found himself disappointed in how low the numbers were. That is until he notices a fresh face staring back at him, hidden behind newer posters, large letters displayed across. "BIG JOB", and this one has an even larger number attached.

He steps forward, pushing the other posts away and rips the new face off the wall to study the number closer. Yup, he read it right.

Five thousand caps.

"Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered.

A young girl, maybe in her 20s. She looks well put together, innocent, and has a sincere smile on her face. For the first time in a very, very long time, he found himself wondering what her story was and why she was worth so damn much, but he didn’t like to dwell on it for too long. A job is a job, and this was going to be worth every damn cap.

On the poster, it states that she was to get picked up at the coordinates provided and to keep her in "good condition". Well, shit, that might just be the hardest part. The ghoul had never been one to take care of his captives, and most often he preferred if the poster stated "good dead or alive". This was definitely going to be different, and if it wasn’t for the "good condition" detail, he’d almost think it was too good to be true. Perhaps even think it was a trap.

It’s midnight, and you’re seated by your desk with a pen in hand, drawing carefully and concentrated on making art on this dirty sheet of old newspaper, but it was good enough for you. You drew flowers and insects from an old pre-war book about nature and their hidden treasures. You were always fascinated by the pre-war times, and though you will never know what it was truly like, you liked to imagine who you would’ve been back in those times.

It’s your way of forgetting about the current state of your life and the predicament you found yourself in. You were born in the wasteland, to a mother who did her best to protect you, but in the end, she had been brutally murdered by a group of raiders who attacked your farm, and you were taken captive by them at the age of 9. You spent a few horrid days with them before your current group found you and bought your freedom from them.

To be fair, you’ve been treated quite well by this group, and you thought you had a family in them at one point. That was until a few months ago when they decided you needed to be isolated from the rest for reasons you still didn’t quite understand. The leader of the group, Margot, had carefully selected you for a special assignment, and made sure to tell you the isolation was for your own good. Apparently you needed special treatment before a long journey to a sacred place called Halfway that was waiting for your arrival.

Your fellow peers would come and visit you to show their excitement, though you didn’t quite understand it, it must be something good with all the positive buzz that’s surrounding you. So your head got filled with all sorts of scenarios and dreams of where you were going and what luxuries you were to experience on this assignment. Though you had your doubts that it was all just a coverup for something else, you didn’t have any reason not to trust your group. They had been nothing but kind to you as long as you’d been there.

You’re startled out of your thoughts by heavy knocks on your locked door and a command shouted from behind.

"Lights out!"

You sigh at the command. "Yes madam!"

You don't bother packing up your drawing supplies, you'll be continuing with it tomorrow anyway, and the day after, probably. You find your bed and blow out the nearby candles.

Every night you can't help but wonder when your assignment and journey would begin. You had all sorts of feelings and questions about it, but every time you tried talking to Margot, she would give you answers that didn’t really answer anything at all, so you gave up on trying to figure it out a long time ago.

The next morning you’re awaken rudely by the guards coming into your room and practically dragging you out of bed in your dazed state.

"Wha- HEY-" you try to muster what’s going on, but before even getting a word out, you’re on your feet and Margot stands before you with her hands on her back.

"Morning lucky one. It’s time, the day we have waited long for is finally here," She's so serious in her delivery, it almost frightens you.

It’s happening.

"We’ve hired someone to transport you safely across the wasteland for your assigment, they’re here and won’t be kept waiting. Get ready in 5 and say your goodbyes, quickly."

Suddenly it feels like it’s all happening too fast, and a slight panic rise inside you. Margot must've notices your panicked stare, cause her features soften, and she steps closer to you.

"You’ve come so far, and I’m so proud of you,» She smiles at you with encouragement, "This is your moment, and I know you will succeed and make us all proud."

Her words give you enough to calm down before the panic escalated. And you give her a nod that you indeed got this. You can do this. You’ve done hard things before, this shouldn’t be any different.

"Yes madam," you say smiling back at her. She flashes you one last smile and a wink before turning and walking back out.

Outside you find everyone from your group waiting in the corridors. They smile at you, some coming to greet you, give you kisses on the cheek as you’re led out of the main building by the guards. It’s all a bit much, but this must be pretty big deal. Margot waits for you by the gate to your commune, but she's not alone. A dark figure stands just outside, looking impatient.

You’re filled with scepticism as you walk up them, but you have to put your trust in her. She notices you and takes a hold of your hands with a smile.

"You will do great," And the wave of panic that had a hold of you before, washes off of you completely. You nod confidently now, and you start believing that this is actually gonna be totally fine.

You feel the dark figure moving closer to you, his hat covering his face just enough to keep him anonymous for the time being. He still looks terrifying, but you have to trust this man is here only to protect you on your journey to Halfway, and that he will do his best to do so.

Margot shoots the man one last look, "Good condition," the man still doesn’t show his face, but he nods.

"Yes ma’am. Let’s go princess," You realize he’s talking to you, and you’re startled by the nickname at first, but you decide not to fuzz, at least not yet. He’s already started walking away, so you find yourself running up behind him, waving back to your leader for the last time, only she doesn’t wave back, she doesn’t even flash a smile. She stares back at you with a stern look as the gates to the commune come to a close.

It doesn’t give you the best feeling, but perhaps she was feelings sad you were leaving and didn’t want to show any emotions. Either way, you try to push the sight out of your mind, doing your best to follow the stranger. He doesn’t say a word for a long time, and you find that maybe it’s best we keep to ourselves for the time being, but as an hour or so go by, you find yourself a little curious.

You clear your throat, "Excuse me, sir?"

He doesn’t reply, but shoots a quick look over his shoulder to indicate that he’s listening.

"How long do you think we’ll be walking for?"

Given that Margot had given you absolutely no information about this journey, you figured it was worth a shot to ask your new strange companion.

"Couple’a days, if we don’t get sidetracked," His voice ragged, western, serious.

"Oh," not really sure if you dared asking for further details. You’d prefer to keep it peaceful for as long as possible, but you find the courage to ask anyway.

"Sidetracked by what?"

You hear him sigh, "Unnecessary bullshit."

‘Whatever that means’ you think to yourself. He doesn’t seem like the talkative type, but after months of isolation you find yourself rather desperate for someone to talk to, and if you are to spend days with this man, you figure it’s worth a shot trying to get to know him for whatever time you have to spend together.

"I see.. I’ll be on the lookout for that I suppose."

You can barely believe your ears when you hear a chuckle coming from the stranger in front of you.

After that positive feedback, you find yourself braver.

"I didn’t catch your name?"

His posture changes after the question left your mouth.

"I didn’t give to ya,"

"Well, I’m Y/N, but everyone calls me Lucky. It’s a bit of a recent nickname though. You see, I just spend 6 months in completely isolation-"

You get cut off abruptly when you find yourself crashing into the strangers back, realizing he's come to an complete halt. He turns around, his figure towering slightly over you. His hat is no longer doing it’s job to cover his face, and utter horror washes over you as it's fully visable in the golden hour light.

"Listen sweetheart, I’m here to do this goddamn job. I don’t wanna hear your whole life story, and you sure as hell won’t be hearing mine. How about we keep our histories to ourselves and try to get this over with as quickly as fucking possible. That sound good to you?"

Your eyes aren’t able to leave his face. His sunken eyes, skin looking like it's been melted by the sun, an obvious nose missing. A ghoul, a ghoul is transporting you. You’ve not met a ghoul before, and those you’ve heard stories of have been grotesque. Fair enough they had been feral, but who’s to say this one won’t turn?

You get the gist of what he’s saying, and simply nod in agreement, not wanting to make this trip any more uncomfortable than it already is.

His eyes bore into your own, and he’s a lot closer than you’d prefer. For a second you think his eyes dart down to your lips before he turns around to keep walking, but that would be crazy, and very disturbing.

Nightfall comes fast, and you’re finding yourself worried for where you’ll be sleeping for the night. You really don’t wanna ask the ghoul, but your steps are getting shorter and slower, and you think the Ghoul have noticed cause he starts walking off track and leads you to a broken down abandoned house off the road.

"Stay here," he says before entering the house, gun up, ready to shoot. You do as he says and wait patiently for him to clear the coast. It doesn’t take long before you hear squealing and two shots being fired. You’re not sure whether to go in or run, but it doesn't matter anyway cause you freeze up completely in these situations. All you can do is hope that the ghoul knows what he's doing.

He comes back to the door a few minutes later, gesturing for you to come in, you’re hesitant, but you do. It's not like you have much of a choice anyway, "What was the shooting about?"

In his left hand he holds a dead radroach, and you find yourself wondering why he’s holding it. That's so fucking gross.

"You should be grateful. I got us some lunch the road," he says, flashing you a smirk. It's almost like he knew you’d be repulsed by it.

"Uhm, y’know what? I think I’m good, for the time being." You try to be nice, but you feel like you might not have a say in the matter. This might be the only food you get for a while.

"Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll make a fire and we’ll put it on the grill."

You want to roll your eyes and complain, but you force yourself to give him a smile and if anything, show some appreciation. He did in fact just catch you a meal.

You’re able to swallow some of the grilled radroach, but after the fresh foods you had grown accustomed to from your commune, you found this hard to stomach.

Nightfall has fallen completely now, and you’ve done your best to make a comfortable sleeping spot by the fire. The ghoul sits nearby keeping watch, and you find yourself very curious of his past and who he is, or who he used to be. Thinking back to his speech earlier about keeping your histories to yourselves reminds you not to ask, but he didn’t say anyting about asking about where you were going.

"What do you know about Halfway?" You watch him closely for any hints he migth give away, "Is it as grand as everyone makes it out to be?" You lay on your side, arm resting under your head.

He doesn’t look at you, eyes fixated on the fire. "How about you get some rest, alright?" he avoids your question. How annoying.

You turn to lay on your back with a puff of annoyance. «Nobody wants to tell me anything,"

"Maybe there's a reason for that."

You turn to look at him, his eyes still not meeting yours. "What is that supposed to mean?" By the sound of it, nothing good.

"Look it's not my job to inform you of shit, and if your leader wanted you to know, trust me darling, she would've told ya."

His eyes flicker up to look directly at yours this time, and it catches you off guard. Not knowing what else to say, you decide to turn to your side, away from him. This whole thing is giving you a really bad feeling.

You’re back on track the next day. Your legs sore from the day before. Having been in isolation for 6 months will do that to you, you guessed, but you'll manage.

The ghoul hasn't said a word yet today, and though you didn't exactly get the answers you were looking for last night, you refused to give up completely.

"What did Margot mean when she said good condition?"

He doesn’t answer, of course he doesn’t. You sigh,

"Look, I don’t mean to be annoying. Truly, I’d just like to know what is waiting for me. That’s all, and I really don't see the harm in that." Still nothing.

"Hey! It’s not kind to ignore someone when they're talking to y-" The ghoul quickly turns, a rope firm in his hands. Where did that come from? He grabs your hands, tying them together before you’re able to protest.

"Hey- what’re you doing!?" You look at him in disbelief, anger and panic all in one.

"Trust me, it’s for your own good," You laugh at that, yeah right. Before you’re able to mock him, he takes out a piece of cloth and wraps it around your head, specially over your mouth, and it's keeping you from saying what's on your mind. For a second you’re actually fearing for your life.

"Listen, gorgeous. We’re about to pass through some dangerous territory, and the people in these parts would do a lot to get their hands on a pretty litte thing like yourself. You follow my lead and keep your mouth shut, can you do that for me?"

You look for any lies in his eyes, but you genuinely believe him. It’s not like you can argue against him anyway, but you put your trust in him and give a nod in response.

You walk for a short while longer before you actually start seeing other people on your path. They seem rough around the edges. Hostile, but not aggressive, yet anyway. You walk past a few who seem to be intrigued, but not interested enough to take their chance at battle with the ghoul. That is until a few of them start gathering in front of you. Four men stand before your path, making it impossible to keep walking without confrontation.

"Gentlemen, how do you do?" The ghoul seems to do his best to keep it friendly, not wanting to create an unnecessary conflict with precious cargo at risk.

"What’ve you got for us ghoul?" As you observe, you can tell some of them are clearly on heavy combat inhancing chems, might be a harder fight if it comes down to it.

"Delivery, to Halfway. Can’t lose this one I’m afraid." He says it so confidently, completely standing his ground, but still keeping it non threatening. The men seem intrigued, and even exchange laughs between themselves. You wonder what they find so funny.

"That religious sacrifice place? What a lucky girl,"

"Seems like she’s up for a hell of a good time,"

"Fellas, if you don’t mind, we’re on a bit of a tight schedule," The ghoul tries to interrupt their 'friendly' chatter, but to no avail.

"They only take virgins up there don’t they? That’s like their whole point?" One of the guys ask the other three.

"Yeah, it’s some crazy religious cult. They torture them and impragnate them for like 10 years or something, or at least that’s what I’ve heard."

You freeze at their words. That can’t be it. That’s not what’s been told to you. They’re joking, making it up to scare you. It’s not true.

"Crazy rich though, you must be getting a lot of caps for this huh?" Suddenly their tone is not so friendly anymore, but the ghoul doesn’t budge. He keeps his hand on his holstered gun, the other holding the rope that binds your hands.

"Lucky for you, we’re not looking to take her off your hands. This time anyway," They laugh once more, patting the ghoul on his shoulder before walking off, letting you pass. He pulls on the rope to shake you out of your frozen state, and you jolst forward, trying to keep up with him. But you're disassociating, not paying a single mind to anything around you. You're too much in your head about what was just said, and you'd like to say you didn't believe a single word, but for some reason you do.

You keep walking in silence, time becomes irrelevant when you're all up in your head. You don’t notice the radstorm closing in, nor the rain that has already started pouring. If anything is in your favor, it's that you pass by a town with an abandoned pre-war hotel that offer a room for 100 caps a night. For whatever reason, the ghoul decides to do that for you. You don’t ask questions, you don't care to.

Soaked, shivering and your legs just barely keeping you up anymore, the ghoul places you down on the couch in the room given to you. You let him guide you, and for once, you're glad he doesn't have much to say. He lowers himself down in front of you and starts taking off the disgusting saliva soaked cloth from your mouth.

You wipe your mouth your hand, "Thank you."

He keeps his mouth shut and starts working on untying the rope from your hands. You watch him crouched before you, he's being gentle when removing the knots. A horrifying reminder of what you won't be experiencing at Halfway, if the men from earlier was telling the truth that is. This thought is what breaks you, and the tears start trickling down your tired face. There's no point holding it back anymore.

He's looking at you, so clearly trying to hide the concern on his face as he stands up and walks to the door.

"I’ll head down to the square to look for some food,"

Whatever.

Your silence is making him uncomfortable, so he leaves. You stay seated, replaying the words spoken between the men from earlier, over and over in your head.

Everyone you knew had made Halfway seem like such an amazing place. That you were lucky to be going, you were chosen. The thought makes you want to throw up.

You don’t register that the ghoul is back, fresh mutfruits placed in front of you on the coffee table, and though you are starving, you can’t bring yourself to even eat one.

"Eat," he says sternly. You just shake your head.

"M’not hungry," you sniffle, drying your tears with the palm of your hand.

"It’s not nice to lie, sweetheart. You haven’t had anything to eat since the damn radroach. Eat," He's trying to act concerned, but you don't believe it for a second. You scoff and look up to meet his eyes, and he’s looking right back at you, an annoyed expression on his face. You can’t believe this guy.

"Why do you care if I eat or not? Let me be," You're so tired, and all you want is to sleep. Gradually rising from the couch, you head towards the bed.

"Please," his plead makes you stop in your tracks.

"Please eat, you're really gonna need the strength," he seems desperate, almost.

You turn around to see him standing motionless by the coffee table, clearly attempting to compose himself.

"No," you're stern in your reply.

He's growing increasingly annoyed, angry even, because he knows he can't force you or harm you in any way.

"Whatever good condition means, I’m sure they'll be pleased as long as I’m alive, right?" Your voice gradually getting louder. "Being that their plan is to torture me for 10 years and all, they must have lots of stimpacks around to keep me alive enough to birth their whole next generation of psychos, don't you think?" Tears start falling.

"Don’t make me beg again," His eyes are shut, as if he's trying to block out your words, as if they affect him somehow. what a fucking joke.

"You’re so afraid you won’t get your paycheck. Well fuck you, and fuck the caps they’re paying you for this," you say it with so much pain and hatred, and you’re sure you’ll regret it later but you don’t have an inch of fuck to give at the moment.

Suddenly you see his angry features fall, and he catches himself in a cough. It's grotesque, and it seems to be getting worse with each one. He looks at you with disrepair, and you can tell he's struggling to catch his breath. You don't know what to do, but you're getting scared for him now. It looks horrifying, but before you're able to come to his aid, he scurries out the room.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. What just happened? A part of you wanted to run after him to make sure he was okay, but at the same time you wouldn't mind too much if he left and never came back. Shaking, you decide to tuck yourself into the left side of the bed. Trying not to think about how dirty it is, you curl yourself into a ball and cry out every last drop.

You’re never able to fall asleep, the tears just keep coming. You thought about running away, but knowing that the ghoul was getting paid a lot for this job, he would likely find you again in no time. What would be the point?

Your sobs are suddenly interrupted by the door opening, and you quiet yourself down to listen closely to every sound. The sound of the ghouls boots scraping the floor as he makes his way to the couch, his coat and gear getting thrown down on it. You decide to pretend that you’re already asleep as you hear him make his way to the bed. Feeling it dip slightly as he lay down in it.

But your cover is blown when you sniffle from the snot in your nose. You damn yourself as a sigh from the stranger fills the room, and you start feeling embarrassed about the way you treated him earlier. It’s not him you should be angry at, if anything it’s Margot and your group. The ghoul is just doing his job, to collect a price which he must need desperately, you can’t really blame him. He owes you nothing.

"Cooper," his raspy voice turned soft for a second.

"What?"

"My name is Cooper, some call me Coop. Whichever rolls of your tongue the best."

You feel awful now, "I’m sorry," Wiping away the tears and the snot to the best of your ability.

"For what sweetheart?" He sounds like he already knows what you’re apologising for, but decides to ask anyway for his own amusement.

"For cursing you out, it’s not your fault, and I shouldn’t blame you," You say, already feeling better for apologizing.

You both stay silent for a while, only sniffles from your nose filling the room. It’s embarrassing, you feel like such a child.

"C’mere darling," He says it in such a soft way. You can barely believe your ears. Looking over your shoulders you see him looking at you, only the dim light of a burning candle nearby to light your surroundings. He’s on his back, gesturing with his hand for you to lay in the crook of his arm. You contemplate it for a second, but it doesn’t take much convincing if you’re being honest. You’d take any form of comfort to make you forget this whole thing, even for just a night.

You turn around, inching closer under the sheets, finding a comfortble spot in the crook of his neck, your head resting on his arm. You’ve never been this close to someone except your mom when you were younger. It’s scary in a way, being this vulnerable and intimate with someone you barely know.

Your breaths are shallow, thoughts racing through your mind and it’s making your heart is beat so fast. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, his body doesn’t give anything away.

You lay like this for a while, just a few dry sniffles and breaths heard between you. You recognize the closeness of him.

But you want to get even closer. You want him wrapped around you and have him absorb your whole being. It may come from having learned that you have extreme trauma waiting for you, and you can’t help but want to experience something good and genuine before that.

Your breaths become heavier, deeper, and you feel yourself wanting something; wanting him. This could go terribly wrong, but what exactly do you have to lose? Fuck it. You push away the what if's and inch your face closer to Cooper’s neck, your hands find themselves carefully making their way to his chest. He doesn’t react, and from what you can tell, he doesn't seem to mind.

You see his breathing stop, and you’re feeling brave. So you test the waters, gently sliding your hand up to his chest, letting them glide across his shirt. While your lips carefully grace the rough skin on his neck. You hear him puff out the air he’s been holding in while curiously letting letting you wander, but he doesn’t seem to resist.

When he doesn’t stop you, it’s easy to find the courage to keep going. Your hand wanders further down his chest, stomach, but he catches your hand right before it reaches the hem of his pants.

"What do you think you’re doin'?" He doesn't sound disappointed, more so curious. You feel a bit embarrassed, but you stand your ground, like you've already stated, you’ve got nothing to lose.

"Please Coop," just a whisper in his ear, "Please show me what it’s meant to feel like", a plea, practically begging.

He can’t help but let out a low growl, obviously turned on by the thought. "I’m meant to deliver you as a virgin, sweetheart."

You want to cry again, a sob brewing deep in your throat. "Please, they won’t know- They won’t find out," Your lips find his neck again, leaving trails of kisses up to his jawline, tongue swirling along the rough surface. You never thought you would find yourself in this position 2 days ago, but here you were, begging for a bounty hunter, a ghoul, to take your virginity.

Lucky for you, he seems to be out of fucks to give and lets go of your hand after only a few seconds of thinking it over. You don’t hesitate to let your free hand go under his shirt to feel his skin. It’s so textured, but you don’t mind. You’ve never touched anyone this way before, there wasn't much to compare it to.

Your hand travel lower until it finds a buldge. Being that this is your first time being intimate with somone, you’re startled by the unfamiliarity of it at first. But it doesn't take you long to realize that you were the reason for his cock hardening, and that turned you on more than anything.

Cooper, who's been laying still for some time now, has clearly been contemplating if he should stop this whole ordeal or not. He wants to touch you so bad, show you how good he can make you feel. Have you shaking with pleasure because of him, but he seems to let you be in control for the time being. You didn't mind, and it gave you some reassurance that this wouldn't be rushed, nor that he would force you to do something you didn't want to.

Your hands are shaking at this point as you try to unbotton his pants, and Cooper can't help but to give you a hand in your already broken state. You’re eager, and waste no time removing your own.

"Get over here darlin'," he says with that gentle voice again, gesturing for you to straddle his hips. His length is exposed now, and you feel yourself getting nervous with anticipation. You find it hard to believe that he's gonna fit inside you, it seems impossible.

Yet, you gain the confidence to sit up and make your way across his lap. You're not sure where to sit specifically, but you want to study him further and therefore straddle his thighs. His cock in view in front of you, laid across his stomach, stiff and drooling. Cooper doesn't say anything, but he watches you carefully, wondering what your next move will be. You don't pay attention to him for now.

You do however find yourself curious, and grab the length in front of you. It's warm, and you circle a thumb across the top where it's drooling a clear liquid. You hear him hum under you, an approval of the gesture you just performed. Butterflies take over your stomach, and you feel throbbing in your lower area. You want his cock so desperately inside you now, just to hear those sounds from him again.

"Sit up for me'," the gruffness of his voice draws your attention to him. You obliged without hesitation, "Scoot closer," and you do, of course you do.

He stretches a hand down between your thigs and you're on your knees straddling his hips. Rough fingers run between your folds and they run smoothly.

"Well fuck me, you really want this huh?" He's teasing you now. You nod frantically.

"Use your words sweetheart," He inserts a finger in your untouched hole. You gulp at the sensation, "Yes- yes I do-".

He hums again, moving the finger inside you, bending and stroking. It feels strange, but not painful. "I know you do honey, but I need to make sure you can handle me first, alright?"

You nod frantically, you knew already that you were prepared to do anything he wanted. "Yes, sir,"

Without warning he adds another finger, and it's starting to sting a little. You try to control your breathing as he starts moving them in and out of you, "I know it hurts baby, but it's only for a lil while. You trust me, don't you?"

You nod again, "Yes- Fuck!" He was getting agressive with it now, but he's hitting a spot you didn't know existed and it's sending you to other dimensions in your mind. Your eyes are rolling back while his fingers work hard between your thighs. It's unlike anything you've felt before.

"There we go.. You're gonna be so good for me aren't you, princess?" His words barely register as you find yourself gripping his arm and holding on for dare life to not lose your balance.

"Mhm- y- yes," and before you knew it, his hand is removed from between your folds and you're left heaving for your breath and trying to focus your vision again.

"I think you know what to do, darlin'," You need him badly now, even more now that you know what pleasures are waiting.

You place yourself over his cock, and Cooper watches in patiently as he puts his hands on your thighs, stroking them gently.

You grab his length and place it under your opening, ready to lower yourself on him. "Slow now," he warns as you as his tip meets your entrance, before letting it slip in just an inch. You both hiss, him with pleasure, you with pain.

"That’s it, doll," He keeps his eyes on you as you wince in pain. Taking deep breaths as your hole adjusts itself to his full size, but you’re feeling impatient and start pushing yourself even further despite the burning sensation. You figure it’s better to get it over with as fast as possible so you can actually start enjoying this.

Cooper hums, "Patience sweetheart," you lock eyes with him, and he genuinely seems to care. He lets you have complete control over this, not pushing any limits, and it makes you feel even more aroused, being in charge; seeing his eyes roll back with edged pleasure, yet doing nothing to force his way in.

You feel comfortable enough to start moving now, and you do your best not to squeal when you feel it burn and sting. Finally your skin touch, your ass gracing his thighs, and though it’s still stinging a bit, you can feel his whole length inside you, and it drives you mad.

"Just like that, princess," You hear his soft grunts below, and it reminds you to start moving. Slowly easing yourself off him, just to lower back down again, trying to find the right pace and angle for it to hit the right spot. It doesn't take long before you feel Cooper bucking his hips just ever so slightly to help you out, and he does. He knew exactly how to thurst his cock to give you the extreme pleasure you were searching for.

"More- please," you moan, your hands find his chest to lean on. Nails digging into his already ragged skin.

"God, you feel so fuckin' good around me, darling," His hips buck into you again, pulling himself almost all the way out before slamming himself back inside you. It's rough, and his hands have found your ass to grab to help move you to his rhythm. You're dazed, eyes barely open from sheer pleasure radiating deep inside you. It's making your breath hitched, and your moans spurt out in cries.

"My- fuckn'- god-" you struggle to draw a proper breath, your vision is blurred and rolled back, barely open.

He’s grunting with pleasure beneath you, seeing you completely lost to the way his cock fills your tight cunt, the next time rougher than last. You both sense that you're getting closer to an edge, and that’s when you realize how lightheaded you are, probably from the lack of food you’ve had today, and Coop notices how your figure slowly droops with exhaustion.

"Woah easy darling-" You feel him sit up under you, and without much effort he sits up and holds you tight to his chest, flipping you over on your back in a swift motion.

You would act surprised, but you’re too lightheaded and close to a climax that you don’t react at all. You feel his head in the crook of your neck, breathing heavy and groaning into your ear as he pushes himself deep and steady inside you. Your moans are soft, almost silent, barely there, not enough energy to show him how good he’s making you feel. But you think he gets it, if anything he can see it in how your eyes roll back, how flushed your cheeks are, and feel how your walls are squeezing tightly around him.

"You gonna be a good girl and finish all over my cock, princess?" You feel a hand reach under your chin, placed firmy on your throat, a tight squeeze is applied as you feel his hot breath on your cheek. Sloppy kisses, and a traveling tongue, licking off all your sweat and tears. Having him so near and in control of your breathing makes you feel unbelievably hot. He could kill you right now, right at your high, and you wouldn't mind at all.

"I think I'm- Coop I'm gonna-," you’re whisper in his ear, and it only fuels him more.

He lifts your leg higher, hooking it over his free arm as he goes even deeper. "Show me how fuckin' good I make you feel, sweetheart,"

And with that you think you’re about to pass out, but instead you’re hit with the intense feeling of something combursting inside you. Your head slams back, and your hands reach up to grab the headboard of the bed, your knuckles turning white from the grip. You're dazed, exhausted, feeling the lingering pleasure from your orgasm still present inside your throbbing cunt. Cooper helps you ride out the orgasm in a slower pace while coming up close to his own.

"There you go doll, it's all right," His hand leaves your throat and he unhooks your leg to find your waist, placing them on each side. He's leaning back on his knees as he pumps himself into you, softly, slowly. Soft groans leaves his lips in heavy and hitched breaths as he gets closer.

Seeing you so beautifully dishevelled and limp beneath him, he starts guiding your exhausted body with his hands, pulling you onto his cock, using it to finish himself off. You allow him, cause you enjoy watching him his chest rise with every breath he takes. His eyes rolling back with pleasure from feeling your walls pulsate with each thrust, and with one last squeeze from you, he reaches his own climax.

His hands are grabbing your waist so tightly you can feel the bruises forming already, but all you can focus on is his heaving chest, and his exposed throat as his head is thrown back. Soft grunts and curses filling the room, and you imagine his eyes closed with painfully pleasurable bliss, all caused by you.

He rides out his own orgasm and tries to settle his breathing before he lifts himself off you. He doesn't look at you, but climbs tiredly out of the bed to readjust his clothing. You’re so sleepy, greasy, smelly, but you don't care. You're high, and happy.

You watch him at the edge of the bed, and you utter a soft 'Thank you', just to let him know you're grateful for risking the success of the job. You were meant to be delivered as a virgin after all.

You hear him chuckle from the foot of the bed, you guessed he’d never gotten a ‘thank you for fucking me’ from anybody before, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

"Close your eyes and get some sleep, alright?" Hell, he doesn’t need to tell you twice.

"I think that’s a good idea," You’re not really sure if the words ever left your mouth, being that you’re practically half asleep already. But you do notice the bed dipping slightly next to you, and how you’re gently being pushed on your side. Followed by something warm pressed up against your back, and gentle kisses being placed along your exposed neck.

What tomorrow brings doesn't matter in this moment.

Part 2?

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout #fallout reader #fallout fanfic #cooper howard x female reader #cooper howard fanfiction #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout the ghoul #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #fallout smut

531 notes · View notes

jamminvroomvroom · 7 months

Text

777.

ln x fem!reader

in which lando has a wild week in vegas

on a bit of a roll whoops! had to write something slutty for vegas week/lando’s birthday so here it is! enjoy my loves and please please pleeeeease tell me what you think! 🎲💘 have literally been thinking about this since vegas was announced and i couldn’t stop listening to silk sonic lol

posting this with the @lavenderlando seal of approval 🫡🤍

inspired loosely by 777 by silk sonic

warnings: 18+ minors dni i am so serious!! listen it’s smut. it’s a lot lot lot of smut. alcohol, swearing, fuckboy!lando, one night stand vibes, choking, unprotected sex, general sex acts, some kinky shit, fluff, minor angst bc lando is a moody little shit

5k words

lando had gotten used to the taste of champagne.

the golden bubbles had grown on him over the course of the season, they tasted like success. so, he didn’t protest when several magnums showed up at the round table, some ridiculous happy birthday remix being blasted over the casino speakers.

it was the night of his 24th birthday, and the drinks hadn’t stopped flowing. he was surrounded by his friends, max and ash joining him, as well as the drivers that had arrived in vegas. the crisp white sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows by now, midnight fast approaching, the material half unbuttoned.

they’d started the night in a bar, drowning in a river of alcohol, and now they were in a casino, one of many on the strip. it was all a bit predictable, kitschy decor everywhere he looked since he’d arrived in las vegas, but that’s what made it iconic. the tackiness seemed to mesh well with the old money vibe, and lando knew this would be a birthday to remember.  

everything was mahogany, gold or red. nothing didn’t twinkle in the lights. his suit jacket was slung over his shoulder, curls messy already from the light breeze of november in the desert. his cheeks were champagne rosy, the alcohol going straight to his head and he felt so fucking good.

everyone toasted to the birthday boy, slot machines rattling in the background. lando didn’t usually enjoy this sort of environment, but he was too drunk to care, deciding to embrace the insanity of his life and live on the edge for one night.

he found himself hunched over a gaming table, fingers drumming against the green felt. his eyes scanned the embroidery, taking in the game that was being played. blackjack, he assumed. this really wasn’t his type of place.

by then, as if by some sort of divine intervention, it was.

a flash of red. a swish of hair. manicured nails on a martini glass.

suddenly blackjack seemed like the best fucking game in the world.

lando couldn’t look away from you.

you were stood right opposite him, drink in hand, red satin draping over every curve of your frame. the dress seemed to cover everything, and nothing at all, perfect for the environment you were in. it was daring, enticing, and lando sure liked being enticed.

from the very second he laid eyes on you, he was picturing what you’d look like against a clean, white bedspread, how his name would sound rolling off your tongue in the form of a desperate whimper. it was a crude thought, but he’d become a crude man.

things had changed a lot since his last breakup. he was messy, leaving a trail of clothes and kisses across every country he stepped foot in. he didn’t get off on the number of people he’d slept with, he got off on the rush of someone new, and he knew before he’d even touched down in vegas, a week earlier than he needed to, that this would probably be the messiest week of his life.

but then he saw you, and it felt weird. he didn’t just want to learn your name and bend you over the nearest surface, gone from your bed before the sun was even in the sky. he was addicted at first sight; he had to take you home, at the very least.

his fixation on you was broken by the dealers voice; it seemed like you were up to play next and you needed at least another player. lando’s eyes flitted back to you, wondering if he even knew how to play blackjack before he offered himself up to you on a glaring shiny platter. you took the decision away from him, because this time, you were staring right back at him.

internally, he was choking on air. externally, he was mentally undressing you with a filthy smirk on his face.

“wanna play, birthday boy?” you smiled coyly, an eyebrow quirked seductively. he could have fallen right to his knees at just the sound of your voice. sweet and spicy.

lando realised that you’d seen the embarrassing display the boys had put on for him. maybe you even knew who he was. he definitely wanted to know who you were, and that’s why he decided to give in to your electric stare.

“you’re on.”

he lost.

every. single. game.

numbers were never lando’s thing.

it was hard to care, though, when he had you sprawled out on the desk of his hotel room, his lips all over your neck.

the walk from the casino up to his room had been short, a bottle of champagne in his left hand and the curve of your ass in his right. there’d been very little small talk, very little convincing needed to seduce you, not with the way you’d been eye-fucking from opposite sides of the table, cards laid bare before you both.

he’d kissed you in the elevator, sloppy and desperate, pressed you against the door to his suite, and quickly pinned you to the other side of it once you were finally inside. you tasted like fruit liquor and cigarettes, your dress slowly bunching at your hips as his hands roamed the silky material. lando was restless, craving everything you had to offer, so he picked you up effortlessly, spreading his palms across the back of your thighs.

it had been a short walk to the desk from the door, and he placed you down carefully. lando slid the dress up your thighs, his finger grazing your calf as he did. you were arching into him, pushing his jacket off his frame and frantically tugging at the buttons of his dress shirt until it was hanging undone off his shoulders.

the look in your eyes sent his blood rushing, frenzied and desperate for him as much as he was for you. taking your jaw in his hand, he tilted your chin towards him until you were looking up at him through your lashes. lando tucked your hair behind your ear, continuing to graze down your neck until he reached the flimsy strap of your dress.

“are you gonna let me have you?” his grip on your jaw tightened and he studied your face.

he gulped when your lips twisted into a smile, conniving, dangerous, red lipstick smudged deliciously. you hadn’t caved into his touch, fallen into submission, and suddenly lando was swimming way out of his depth.

it seemed he’d finally met his match.

you pushed him away, giggling as he stumbled backwards towards the bed, and stood from your place on the desk. slowly, you made your way towards him, until you’d backed him up all the way to the foot of the bed, at which point he collapsed. he scrambled up onto his elbows, smirking up at you.

your eyes raked over his frame, swollen lip caught between your teeth. he looked disheveled in the best way, shirt framing lean sun kissed skin.

slowly, you unzipped your dress, letting it fall off your frame. the material pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it carefully, kicking it away. lando had moved up the bed so that he was sitting against the headboard, watching you hungrily. you were left bare, aside from a lacy thong and red stilettos. lando could have cried tears of joy.

happy fucking birthday.

lando’s eyes lit up like 777 had spun onto a slot machine. he may have lost at blackjack but he’d definitely hit the jackpot.

you crawled onto the bed towards him, not stopping until you were sat on his lap. his hands scaled your thighs, stroking up and down the soft skin. you rolled your hips, experimenting, toying with him, and he groaned, low and loud.

“does this answer your your question?” you whispered, leaning into him so that you could loop your arms around his neck.

lando kissed you, slow and sloppy, sitting up even further just to feel you closer. he could feel your nipples brushing against his bare chest, low whines breaking through the kiss your shared every time you felt too sensitive. your bodies were rolling together in unison, friction building nicely between your legs.

he was growing impatient, itching to get rid of the remaining barriers between you. lando held you still, tight, flipping you both over so that he was hovering over you. his lips worked your neck, hickeys littered down your neck and over your collarbone, while his hands moved down your body. he toyed with the band of your thong, snapping the material against your waist.

lando left you there, keening for his touch, while he peeled his shirt off. his trousers went next, along with his boxers, and then he was right back where he’d left off. your panties disappeared in a flash, his kisses punctuated by a splotchy purple mark sucked below your left breast.

and then he was buried between your legs, licking stripes into you like he was starving. he moaned into your pussy when he felt the first pull on his hair, spurring him on. he applied more pressure, taking it slow, revelling in the way you tugged harder and harder with every swipe. lando slid two fingers through your folds, coating them in your slick.

when he slid the digits inside of you, his mouth latched onto your clit, flicking against it relentlessly. he found the perfect rhythm, balance, everything he was doing made you see stars behind your eyelids. you were thrashing, helpless, and he was getting off on it.

you jaw went slack when you raised yourself onto your elbows just to find him grinding against the mattress, groaning into your cunt at the sensation, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. you couldn’t even hold yourself up then, dropping into the mattress as you fell apart beneath him.

lando resurfaced a few moments later, a glint in his eyes, his mouth glistening in the dim light. your vision was hazy, body shattered, but you ached for more of him. the feeling only intensified, your legs tightening around his waist, when he raised his coated fingers to his lips, lapping up every last drop of you. his tongue swirled around his digits lewdly, and you shuddered.

lando didn’t mind at all when you pushed him onto his back, clambering on top of him. you looked wild, animalistic even, as you guided the tip of his cock through your folds, and he folded his arms behind his head to enjoy the view. once you’d slicked him up, not that he really needed it, you sunk down on him.

fingerprints stained your hips; his grip on you increased tenfold as you adjusted around him, your walls throbbing around his swollen cock. lando sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, holding you down on him. your movements were stuttering, trying to hold yourself together and ignore the way he fit inside you so damn perfectly. you tested the waters, rolling your hips a few times, and his eyes rolled back in his skull.

you felt heavenly, like velvet and butterflies.

he lost all sense of control, every fibre keeping him from wrecking you. his grip didn’t loosen when he fucked up into you, bending his knees for any extra leverage he could get. your nails scraped down his chest, his abs, dripping at the way he tensed under your touch. you tried your best to keep up with him, to meet his thrusts, holding your own for longer than you thought you would.

and then you were folding, melting into his chest, one of his hands pulling both of your behind your back, holding you down as he fucked you into your orgasm. your whines were panted right into his ear, sending him hurtling towards his own high.

lando couldn’t help himself, spilling into you, your body pressed helplessly into his. you were exhausted, wrecked, grinning lazily against the thrumming of his heartbeat.

with your hands held behind your back, you couldn’t stop him from planting you on your back, snaking down your body, burying his tongue deep inside you. the room was filled with the sound of sex, his tongue dragging over you like you were the last meal on earth and he was ravenous. he cleaned up the mess he’d made quickly, sounds that would make the population of sin city blush bouncing off the walls.

your vision was white, maybe your were screaming, it was hard to know what was going on when he had you about ready to ascend. when you fell over the edge, you were boneless, at one with the bed. you watched as he licked his lips, flopping onto the bed beside you.

he stroked your hair and you hummed, content and satiated.

lando didn’t dare look away from you while you came down.

apparently, it was rare to wake up after a wild night in vegas and remember the events of the night before.

lando remembered everything.

the exact shade of your eyes, the feel of red satin and black lace, the way you tasted.

your lips on his skin, hips in his hands, the way you moulded pliantly to his touch.

the way you gave as good as you got.

he was smiling before he’d even opened his eyes, reaching blinding across the bed, ready to propose round… four? five? lando had lost count.

warm hands met cold sheets and suddenly he was wide awake.

lando sat up dead straight, searching for a sign of life in the room. there was none. no shoes on the floor, no dress to match, no thong hanging from the door handle. a pit formed in his stomach.

is this how he made people feel?

waking up alone after the best sex of his life and no trace of the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on was quite miserable.

he thudded back into the mattress, hands shielding his eyes from the burn of daylight. he felt like shit, that was undeniable. when he’d fallen asleep, naked and with you nestled into his side, he couldn’t wait to wake up, perhaps arrogantly thinking that you’d be waking up with him. what was that saying, again?

hope breeds eternal misery.

his brain was wracked with the image of you and him, champagne flowing right before he’d taken you again, bent over the desk. and then again in the shower, a harmless attempt to clean yourselves up ending up with you on your knees before your cheek was pressed against the shower screen.

lando tried to fathom why you’d leave after the night you’d shared. there was something about it, something more intimate in the desperation you’d shared, that left him senseless as to why you were gone before the sun was in the sky.

just like he usually was.

it dawned on him, quite quickly, that the habits he’d made of quick fucks and fast getaways was not good form. it was reckless and casually cruel, and he felt guilt for the first time since his string of one night stands had begun. perspective was a crazy thing.

when he sluggishly made his way out of bed, he felt even worse.

“where’d you get to last night? we lost you after that terrible game of blackjack.” max teased, sipping his coffee.

lando found himself at the breakfast table, head rested on his hand and hoodie pulled tight. he wasn’t in the mood to talk, but max was like a dog with a bone; there was no avoiding this conversation.

“met a girl.” lando mumbled, aimlessly stirring the tea he knew he wasn’t going to drink.

“ah, understood.” max said, grinning knowingly. but then, as if lando’s bad mood finally clicked, he continued. “wait, why are you in a mood then?”

“tired.” lando replied, monotonously. he wasn’t quite sure how to unpack this one.

“bullshit.”

“woke up alone.”

“oh.”

“she was- i don’t know. just thought it would be different, that’s all.” lando couldn’t disguise the deflated tone of his voice.

“don’t tell me you caught feelings from a shag.” max rolled his eyes, chomping away at his toast. lando could barely stomach the sight of food.

“shut up, i’m not saying i fell in love. just liked something about her.”

“well, anything can happen in vegas. you never know, mate. she might find her way back to you.”

lando was getting ready for the netflix cup before he knew it. he’d managed to shake off max, escaping to the darkness of his room, the curtains drawn and the lights off.

he pretended it was the hangover that had him laying face down on his bed.

the last thing he wanted was to go and play corporate circus on the golfing green, but he figured some fresh air wouldn’t hurt. and so, he was in the backseat of a car well on his way to the tournament.

carlos couldn’t distract him, neither could alex or pierre. rickie fowler was much less interesting that he hoped, or maybe he wasn’t and lando just wasn’t interested enough. not even zak’s mclaren printed trousers could cheer him up.

lando was leaning into his golf club, starting mindlessly into the crowd, waiting for this garish event to begin when he caught a glimpse of someone he recognised. in a sea of influencers and obnoxious businessmen, there you were.

there you fucking were, in your knee high boots and a mini skirt, sunglasses perched on your nose, skintight top under an oversized blazer and hair shining under the warm sunlight. he lost his balance, the golf club slipping from underneath him, and the only thing that kept him upright was the burning urge to keep his eyes on you.

just who were you?

lando didn’t need to clarify whether or not you were looking at him, too. no, you made it abundantly clear by the way you winked at him, before pushing your sunglasses back up the bridge of your nose.

you fucking winked.

he took a step in your direction, shaky legs ready to carry him all the way over to you. he only had your first name and he craved your second, your phone number, anything really. he’d just take the small talk, to be completely honest.

but then the klaxon screeched, knocking him out of his trance and he whipped round to discover that they were ready to tee off. lando cursed under his breath, rapidly turning to search for your face but you were nowhere to be seen.

had he imagined you? had he imagined all of it?

every golf ball hit was hit with frustrated vengeance.

the week disappeared in a bittersweet blur.

lando had achieved multiple hangovers and about zero dollars in winnings, but he’d successfully managed to take his mind off of you.

okay, so that was a bare faced lie, but if lando didn’t lie to himself, he wouldn’t be able to lie to anyone else.

he wouldn’t be able to lie to max that he was no longer moping. he wouldn’t be able to lie to the media when they asked him if he was oh so excited about the race. he wouldn’t be able to lie to his team when they asked him if he was still suffering the consequences of his week long hangover.

lando had been rushing around all day, after a solid p4 in qualifying the night before. the entire day had been horrendous, sequins and bright lights being shone in his eyes. all he wanted to do was hide, get in the car and then go to bed.

fate had other plans.

lando was rushing to the front of the grid for the national anthem, certain that whatever display that was about to occur would make him nauseous. he was derailed on his journey, caught by rachel brookes in the pitlane, and then accosted by martin brundle once he’d made his was onto the grid.

“good qualifying yesterday and good luck today!” martin called to lando, turning to wrestle another insufferable celebrity.

as lando was making his getaway, ready to jog through the masses of people to his place at the front, he went barrelling into another body, putting his hands out to steady himself and the poor person that had become his collateral damage. as he regained his balance, he must have looked like a cartoon character, eyes bulging out of his head.

“are you stalking me?” was all he could choke out when his eyes met yours.

what the actual fuck were you doing here?

lando had given up on the possibility of ever seeing you again, and yet, here you were, stood under the bright floodlights on the grid, his office. this was the last place he’d expected you to show up, paddock pass swinging from your neck. again, what the actual fuck were you doing here?

“might as well be, at this point.” you teased. “hopefully you’ll do better today than you did at golf on tuesday.” you smiled coyly up at him, tucking your hair behind your ear.

lando was on quite the time crunch, glancing at the time on the clock at the front of the grid. he had a minute to spare, if he was lucky, but he had to talk to you, before you inevitably disappeared again.

“thought i’d get at least your phone number before you left.”

“from what i hear, you don’t usually stick around long enough for those.” you smirked.

well, his reputation certainly proceeded him. he couldn’t really argue with that.

“maybe i’m trying to change that.” lando attempted to flirt but really, he sounded desperate. you didn’t seem to mind.

“i’ll make you a deal,” you proposed, leaning in just a little bit closer. lando’s breath hitched in his throat. “get on that podium, and i’ll be waiting in your hotel lobby.”

“and if i don’t?” lando’s mouth was dry.

“maybe i’ll see you next year.”

lando watched you walk away, your hips swaying tantalisingly, wondering if the hefty fine he would be bollocked with would be worth it if he didn’t move his ass for the national anthem.

this would be the drive of his fucking life.

lando couldn’t recall a time he’d left a track faster in his life.

media duties were rushed, so was the shower he had before he fled. it was lucky he was already on the strip, so the walk to his hotel was blissfully short.

he entered the lobby with a shit eating grin and a comically large bottle of champagne in hand.

a string of second places had gotten rather frustrating, but this one felt particularly good. a podium was a podium, fair and square, and assuming you’d kept to your end of the bargain, he was in for the best celebration of his life.

sitting pretty at the bar that stretched through the lobby, you were waiting for him, heels swinging from the stool you rested on. denim clung to your hips, a dark corset style top moulding to your curves. he wondered if love at first sight was real; lust at first sight certainly was.

lando’s eyes beckoned to towards him, and you slipped inconspicuously into the elevator together, not wanting to draw too much attention to your rendezvous. it was a futile attempt, frankly, because he had you backed into the mirror before the doors had even fully shut.

kisses on your neck had your eyes fluttering closed, one of his knees slotting comfortably between your thighs. one of his hands was clasped tight around the neck of the neck of the bottle, giving lando the fantastic idea to find your neck with his free one. he held you firmly, forcing you to look at him.

“i’m gonna make you wish you never left.”

hours on the mattress pulling countless orgasms from one another left you both weak, exhausted, a little bit clingy.

lando felt electric. no other person had ever left him so feral, so euphoric.

he’d had you first against the door, pulling your jeans off and pinning you against it, your thighs in his firm grasp as he fucked you into the wooden panel. then, he’d taken you to bed, your knuckles turning white from your brutal grip on the headboard when he’d planted you down on his mouth. two orgasms later, you were face down in the sheets, ass in the air for him while he slammed into you like his life depended on it, pulling you into his chest by your hair when you reached your climaxes.

all that hard work called for a bath, where you both found yourselves now. it had started off quite innocently, sat at opposite ends of the extravagantly large bathtub amongst the bubbles. but then you’d given him those eyes, and then your back was pressed against his chest, your body draped over his. his head was nestled into the crook of your neck, one arm slung over your waist. his other hand brought the bottle of champagne to his lips, the liquid going down smoothly. lando pressed the bottle to your pursed lips too, trading backwards and forwards while your bodies relaxed into the hot water.

lando’s hand on your waist was getting restless, fingers drumming over your abdomen, up, up, up, until he found your breast. he circled your nipple with his finger, not quite touching the bud yet, but he could feel it hardening from his scarce touch. your hips rolled backwards into his, feeling him hardening once again against your lower back. lando cupped your breast, massaging it in his hands before he switched, flitting between your tits.

you slumped somehow even further into him, not a millimetre of space between your bodies. he was winding you up beautifully, heat burning between your legs once more. you didn’t know how you did it, how you could be so ready for each other after the eventful evening you’d already shared.

lando was flicking your nipples between his finger, switching back and fourth until you were moaning quietly. you took charge, the sensitivity building too quickly, and so you rolled over in his arms, clambering into his lap.

the bath water splashed around you, moving in small waves across the tub as you situated yourself on top of him, grinding down on him until he was buried deep within your walls. he found that spot, rolling your hips against his, and then you were rocking up and down on him, nice and slow. he touched parts of you that never had been before, the pace and the angle intensifying every little sensation. your head was thrown back, hands clawing at his shoulders for something to hold onto, just for the feel of him.

lando reached over the edge of the bathtub, blindly searching for the bottle he’d discarded while you’d been switching positions. he felt the green glass grazing his fingertips and brought it back to his lips, eyes trailing over your body in sheer awe.

he couldn’t help himself, taking a sip before tilting it towards you, pouring the golden bubbles over your clavicle, jaw tightening - just like your cunt did at the sensation - as he watched the sticky alcohol drip down over the curve of your bouncing breasts.

you quivered when you felt his tongue lap over your nipple, then the other, dragging over your sodden flesh until he reached the junction between your neck and your shoulder. he bit down, hard, eyes rolling back at the taste in his mouth and the way you clamped down around him, whimpering out between breathless pants.

lando felt you let go, stuttering on his cock and sinking down on top of him, the water - now lukewarm - soothing your tired limbs. he held you close, basking in the intimacy of the moment, his hearing honing in on the dull hum of ecstasy you expelled.

the bath grew colder and colder as you sat there, comfortable silence filling the air along with the quiet rush of water that came with any movements made. when the time came, lando held you up as you got off of him and stepped onto the plush rug, quickly following suit. you were eyeing the shower when he turned to hand you a towel.

“i think i need a shower, as much as i enjoyed the bath.” you spoke, opening the screen and stepping in to adjust the knobs.

lando weighed up his options, agonising over joining you or doing his back in. he couldn’t exactly tell his trainer that his back gave out from too much sex.

“am i invited?” lando asked, stepping in behind you, hands on your waist.

“seems like you’ve already invited yourself.” you teased, looking at him over your shoulder.

“no funny business, you.” lando rested his head on your shoulder.

“from me? you’re just as bad.” you quipped, letting the hot warm stream all over your flushed bodies.

lando stayed as he was for a second, but then you turned your head again, looking at him from the corner of your eye and he needed to kiss you. he couldn’t help but, and so he twisted you round to face him and leaned in. you were more than receptive, fingers raking through his wet curls.

the hot water rained down on you while you stood there, holding each other close. lando couldn’t put his finger on it, why he didn’t want to let you go. he couldn’t even begin to process the idea of having anyone else in his arms like this. it was absurd, really, but he was too caught up in the moment to care.

when you were both clean and dry, you laid down in bed, gazing mindlessly at one another. his eyes followed the lines of your face, the curve of your lips. he learned a lot about you, a formula 1 fan with who ran her own business and took herself on holiday to vegas. the conversation flowed like the champagne had and you were laughing at all his stupid jokes. in turn he grinned like a fool at your quick wit, the sound of your laughter.

“so what are you doing next? back to work?” lando asked, an idea forming in his mind like a tornado.

“nope,” you popped the p. “giving myself some well deserved time off.”

“have you ever been to abu dhabi?” lando asked, lips quirking mischievously.

inbox me your thoughts bc aaaaaaaa 😨😨

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239

i’ve removed tags that weren’t working! lemme know if u wanna be added or removed <3

2K notes · View notes

ellemj · 6 months

Text

Needs & Wants - Sex Pollen Trope Pt. 10 (FINAL PART)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

*Read parts 1-9 first for the full effect!*

Summary: Everything is out in the open between you and Bucky now, but there are two rules for your new secret relationship.

Warnings: unprotected sex, teasing, possessive!Bucky (hehehe), maybe fluff (?), profanity, use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 2.2k

Author's Note: We've finally reached the end. I think I'll miss this version of Bucky and reader but I'm pretty excited about the work that I'm planning on putting out here next. Hopefully everyone's okay with the conclusion of this, I didn't want to have anyone riding off into the sunset or anything, but I also didn't want to have a horribly sad ending, so this felt right. You guys should totally let me know in the comments what kind of things you'd like to see from me soon! I don't know if I'll take specific requests anytime soon, but I'd love to at least find out what might get you all excited. Thanks for the umpteenth time to @littlemiss-yeehaw for being the best cheerleader and warnings-writer out there. She also draws some unbelievable shots of Bucky based on scenes in these fics.

In the shower, on the hotel bed, in the chair by the window, hell, even on the floor when the two of you rolled off of the bed in the heat of the moment. You’d successfully christened every surface of your hotel room before the clock ever struck midnight. You hadn’t meant to go at it like horny teenagers who found themselves home alone for the first time, but that’s what happened. It’s like you were both thinking about how this may not continue once you get back to the compound tomorrow morning, so you fit as much as you could all in one night.

Now, you’re laying side by side in bed. Your most recent tryst involved you on your hands and knees with Bucky doing all of the right things behind you, and it thoroughly winded you both. You listen as your collective breaths fill the air, the two of you each coming down from your post-orgasmic highs.

“Do you think Dr. Raynor will figure this out?” You ask softly, raising a hand and wiping a bit of sweat from your brow. Bucky laughs and turns his head to look at you. He still can’t get past how pretty you look after doing such dirty, animalistic things with him. Even without the super soldier serum decreasing his refractory period to mere minutes, he thinks he’d be recovered and ready for round five just from looking at you like this.

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“It’s on my mind, yeah.” You admit. You’re probably more worried about it than you should be, but deep down, Bucky’s worried too.

“So, how do you want to handle it?” Bucky asks, fully rolling onto his side to face you.

“Maybe we just wait and see what she has to say after observing tonight’s mission and then go from there. I don’t want to say anything first and give her anything to use against us.” He’s listening to your words, honestly, he is. He doesn’t think he could ever miss a word you say. But he can’t stop himself from reaching over and running his fingertips along your flushed cheek. You turn to look at him and he lets his fingers ghost over your lips and down the column of your throat until he reaches the notch between your collarbones. His eyes linger there for a moment. Something’s missing.

“You never gave me my dog tags back.” He whispers. You’re not wearing them, and neither is he. So, where are they?

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure when to give them back.”

“Bullshit, you wanted to keep them.” Bucky teases. You push his hand away from your neck at the accusation, but can’t stop the smile that’s creeping over your features. Fuck, he’s so into you. He closes the distance between the two of you and places his body carefully over yours under the covers, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Even just kissing you sets off fireworks inside of him.

“They’re sitting on my nightstand, back in the compound.” You tell him, hoping it doesn’t make you sound too obsessed. You had planned to give them back all week, but avoiding him made that a little difficult, so instead you left them sitting beside your bed. It was sort of comforting to see his name every night before you fell asleep, and every morning when you woke up.

“Keep them.” He insists, pressing another kiss to your soft, soft lips. You get lost in the moment, focusing on the feeling of his tongue working against yours, his scent enveloping you in the most consuming way, and his weight keeping you pinned to the mattress. You could stay like this forever.

This, of course, is when Bucky’s phone would ring. He groans in annoyance as he breaks the kiss and touches his forehead to yours, looking down into your eyes.

“Tell me not to answer it.” He pleads. You purse your lips, knowing it’s probably someone from the team calling with some kind of update or new order. Bucky groans again before rolling off of you and snatching his phone off of the bedside table. He answers it and puts it on speaker, confirming that it’s someone from the team.

“Hey, sorry to call so late. The threat has been neutralized so you guys can head back now and get some sleep, we’ll debrief in the morning.” Sam sounds tired but calm, so it must have been more of a nuisance situation than a major threat. Bucky closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with his vibranium hand.

“Sounds good, we’ll be back soon.” He grumbles. You can tell he’s annoyed that you won’t be staying the night here. When he hangs up the call, he lets out a deep sigh before sitting up on the side of the bed, with the covers gathering around his waist. Without thinking, you crawl up behind him and wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him from behind. He stiffens as if he didn’t expect your touch, but that just makes you lean into him more, resting your chin on his shoulder. You feel him slowly relax and having that effect on him warms you to the center of your being

“We’re going to go home, get some rest, and debrief in the morning like this was any other mission.” You say, attempting to be reassuring.

“That’s what you want? To pretend like this was any other mission?” He questions, running his hands over where your arms are wrapped around his abs.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant we don’t have to run in and tell everyone that something might be going on between us.”

“Might?” He chuckles. You feel his abs shake beneath your hands as the melodious sound leaves his lips. You never heard him laugh much before, and you didn’t expect to like it as much as you do.

“Hey, I told you that I fell for you, and you said fuck, I’m cumming. How am I supposed to know you feel the same way?” You tease, letting go of him and laying back on the bed, drawing the covers up over your naked body. He turns a bit to face you and starts pulling the covers away from you slowly.

“Y/n…” He says your name with so much genuine feeling that it sends tingles throughout your body. Has he always said your name like that and you just never noticed before? Yes. “I made you wear my dog tags while I fucked you.” What the hell does that have to do with what you just said? He can see the confusion on your face and it brings a smile to his. He slides back under the covers next to you and begins peppering kisses across your shoulder and collarbone.

“Bucky…” Fuck, if you start saying his name again there’s no way either of you will make it back to the compound tonight. He quickly makes his way up to your face, attaching his lips to yours for a moment and then tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away. It’s the nicest way anyone has ever shut you up.

“I wanted to be able to pretend like you were mine. I fell way before you did.” He whispers against your lips. Holy shit. He feels the same way. Bucky Barnes feels the same way about you as you feel about him.

You know that you have orders to head back to the compound, and neither of you are the type to disobey orders from above, but how are you supposed to pack up and head out after finding out that you have feelings for each other? You can’t stand the thought of traveling back to the compound tonight knowing that you’ll have to put on a show and pretend like nothing happened here. So, why not delay a bit and take what you want one more time?

That very rational thinking is what inspires you to slide your hand between the two of you and wrap your fist around Bucky’s already-hardening cock. He sucks in a breath at the feeling of your small, soft hand wrapping tightly around him, and he wonders how he went so long without having you this way. You’ve been right across the hall from him all of this time. You’ve been going on missions with him for the last two months, giving each other shit nearly every waking moment, and completely missing what had been there the whole time. Love. He won’t say it out loud yet, he doesn’t want to scare you off, but that’s what it is. He’s sure of it. He loves you. He may not say it but he can damn well express it.

That’s how Bucky finds himself, for the fifth time tonight, guiding the tip of his cock inside of your perfect cunt. He’s done this enough times now that he knows as soon as he bottoms out inside of you, you’ll tense up and scrunch your eyes closed, trying your hardest to adjust to his size. He watches as you do just that, and then he feels your entire body relax beneath him and he knows you’re ready. He pulls one of your legs up and over his hip as he begins fucking you into the mattress. When your eyes flutter open to meet his, he has to go completely still inside you so he won’t cum right then and there. You laugh to yourself. You know what eye contact does to him and you love it.

“What’s the matter, James? Keep going.” You taunt, wiggling your hips and forcing his cock to slide into you another inch. He’s only halfway inside of you. He breathes out a slow, calming breath before leaning down and nuzzling his face into your neck, letting his cock sink into you slower than it ever has before.

“You like rushing me, don’t you?” He asks, giving your cunt gentle thrusts. A soft hum leaves your lips at the pleasure that’s beginning to build in your lower stomach. You’re so focused on the feeling that you don’t even acknowledge his question. “Don’t rush me tonight.” He buries himself to the hilt before stilling once more, drawing a whine from your lips. “We’re making love, not fucking, sweetheart.”

---

A few hours later that same morning, a very uneventful debrief took place in the conference room at the compound. You and Bucky turned in your mission reports, leaving out the details of what happened in the hotel room, and then you were dismissed to have a few hours of freedom before having to meet with Dr. Raynor.

Everyone probably assumed that the two of you went off to your respective rooms upstairs, but it took little convincing to get Bucky to sneak over into yours. When he stepped inside and shut the door behind him, the first thing he noticed was his dog tags, right where you said they were.

You kick your shoes off by the door and walk over to sit on one of the small gray chairs that you have off to the side of the room, feeling surprisingly nervous that Bucky Barnes is seeing your room for the first time. Nervous. After everything the two of you have done this week? You’re ridiculous. You watch him as he crosses the room and scoops the dog tags off of your nightstand. He stares at them in his palm for a moment, and for a second you worry that he might pocket them. However, when he turns to you with a soft smile and a mischievous glint in his eye, your fears are assuaged.

“Do you have any rules? For this thing that we’ve got going on?” Bucky asks, taking the free chair across from you and setting the dog tags flat on the coffee table that separates the two of you. You tilt your head to the side, studying him closely. You see what he’s doing. The first night, while under the influence of that chemical, you gave him one rule: no kissing. He returned with his own rule: wear his dog tags while he fucks you.

“I have one. We keep this a secret, just between us, for as long as we can.” You respond, letting your eyes trail over his physique. He’s sitting in your chair the same way he sat in the chair in the hotel room last night. The man knows how to demand attention without saying a damn word. You watch as his licks his bottom lip and then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together in front of him.

“Fine. It’s a secret.” He agrees, his gaze briefly lingering on your neck. “But I have one rule too.” He reaches out with his flesh hand and begins sliding the dog tags across the table toward you. “You’ll never take these off again.”

BONUS CHAPTER

TAG LIST:

@sarcastickiddo @donttalktosposts @marygoddessofmischief @its-daydreamer23 @lightsonnoonehome @gyokujyn @kandis-mom @millercontracting @alicia-bman @sdddoobydoobydoo @a-rotten-chicken-nugget @buckysbvtch3 @browneyedgirl22 @charmedbysarge @i-dont-know-how-to-words @maraaaamartinnnn @hensawweston @traderjoesmints @fictionallyunavailable4ever @black-cat-2 @just-act-natural @phoenixstark1708 @ladyvenera @walkingwithoutreason @bubblevicioussss @larajadeschmidt13 @thealloveru2 @crist1216 @joannaromanoff @jenniferpendragon @i-will-always-kneel-for-smut @justafangirl1 @sydneylaufeyson22 @khambot @yourmidnightlover @claireelizabeth85 @multifandom-girlie @keyrani @hhiggs @bambamwolf87 @mrsjoequinn @inappropriate-shell @abitofblues @takeyour-pants-off @buckysbaby-doll @buckbuckybuckaroo @yourkenoughyk @kingfleury @cresendolls @missadored @ssugar-momma @fandomsfeminismandme

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #mcu #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut

1K notes · View notes

junislqve · 21 days

Text

ᯓ your lips, my lips — hyung

— pairs hyungs + reader syn when the hyungs can’t seem to take their eyes off your lips wc 820 cw kissing fluff suggestive | mlist navi ── ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

note this was supposed to be my first post, but here it is ⸜( ˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

LEE HEESEUNG

“missed you, baby”

heeseung snuggled in to your side as your head laid on his chest. the apartment was quiet, your breathing combined with his the only thing rivaling the sounds from the tv.

he took a deep breath, letting your familiar scent seep into him. he felt content whenever you were there. all the worries of the week vanishing just by your presence.

you both had restless nights studying for the finals, having no time to see each other. there were so many burdens you wanted to let out, yet all of them seems to be said just by the silence.

in your trail of thought, you failed to realize heeseung was blantantly admiring you. his eyes trained on your lips, sporting his own smile.

he leaned in to peck your own. smiling giddy a second later when you come back in for a longer kiss.

“i really missed you”

PARK JONGSEONG

ever since jay picked up cooking, you always offered to do a taste test. claiming it was to ‘test the seasoning’. as annoyed as jay was sometimes, he could never really refuse you.

jay loves the way you would smile brightly when you taste anything he made. he’d even cook whenever you were around just so he could hear you compliment his cooking.

you were sitting on the kitchen table, while jay stirred up the soup from a new recipe he found.

“can’t i try it yet?” you sigh.

“not yet baby, it’s still boiling hot” jay said. scooping up a tiny bit and blowing on it for good measure, he carried the spoon closer to you and placed a hand under your chin.

you hummed in content, savoring the taste, “this tastes so good, jay” you say, going to grab another spoonful for him. a second later, jay’s lips were on yours. his warm breath fanning your lips.

he stays a second longer, his hand coming up to your neck pulling you impossibly closer. when you both come up for air, jake was back to cooking with a grin.

“your lips taste better”

SIM JAEYUN

jake absolutely loves everything you do. from how passionate you are about your hobbies. whenever you were doing your homework. when you were doing the dishes.

even when you’re doing something as simple as talking. jake likes talking, there was never really any silence in your whole 2 years of being together.

jake always had something interesting to say whether it was about his family, his friends, his dog, or ( mostly ) about you.

on the contrary to jake, you seem to be more quiet. you talked a ton, yes, but you preferred listening to him talk more. resulting in being more quiet whenever he had anything to say.

jake might love talking, but he’s the best listener you’ve ever known. giving little quips and comments on the right moments, and even staying silent and just listening whenever you needed an ear.

you’re currently sat on his carpet, him across you. you were talking about something that happened today and jake nodded along.

he loved whenever you talked, clinging onto every word you were saying. his eyes wander over to observe your face.

the way your eyes crinkle at something funny that happened, or the way that your nose scrunches when you recount an awkward encounter has his heart beating like crazy.

he mainly loves the way your lips curl into that gorgeous smile at a fond memory. loves how you bite your lip when you were thinking.

he couldn’t even stop himself from reaching and bringing you in for a kiss.

“you’re so cute, i can’t help it”

PARK SUNGHOON

he loves kissing you on the forehead. you would find him kissing your forehead almost every day.

it has become his love language. in the morning, afternoon, night, or midnight he would always make time for you and show you that he loves you.

especially on busy days or weeks when you both have less interactions due to busy schedules. he gives and shows affection to you by doing a small and simple but heart-wrenching gestures.

however, sunghoon loves getting comfortable and cozy in bed with you. usually past midnight, when you two decide to finally try to sleep instead of being on your phones.

sunghoon would lay beside you, facing you. trying to close your eyes and drift asleep, you felt sunghoon’s gaze on you.

during these times of the night, looking at you when your face is all peaceful. sunghoon can’t help but stare at you with that look. the look every 2000s romcom guy have in their eyes, filled with hearts and lovesick.

he adores you so much and when you fail to suppress a small smile, he barely hesitates to go in for a kiss.

he won’t ever stop being grateful for having you by his side. will always have his heart on his sleeve whenever you’re in the equation.

792 notes · View notes

sneezypeasy · 3 months

Text

The Lightning Scene, How Azula Targeted Katara (of All People), and the Doylist Reason Why That Matters

Mention Zuko's sacrifice for Katara in Sozin's Comet Part 3 as part of a pro-Zutara talking point, and invariably you'll get a Pavlovian response of:

"But Zuko would have taken the lightning for anyone."

(Not to be confused with the similar-sounding Pavlovan response, which is "Zuko's sacrifice ain't shit compared to a mouth-watering, strawberry-topped meringue dessert"*, which is actually the only valid counter-argument to how the lightning scene is a bona fide Zutara treasure, but I digress.)

Now, I've talked in depth about how the lightning scene is framed far more romantically than it had any right to be, regardless of how you might interpret the subject on paper; this is an argument which I still stand by 100%. That Zuko would have gotten barbecued for anyone, and that he was at the stage of his arc where his royal kebab-ness represented his final act of redemption, doesn't change the fact that the animators/soundtrack artists decided to pull out all the stops with making this scene hit romantic film tropes bingo by the time it played out on screen.

(I mean, we stan.)

There's also a deeper level to this conundrum, a layer which creeps up on you when you're standing in your kitchen at night, the fridge door open in front of you, your hungry, sleep-deprived brain trying to decide on what to grab for a midnight snack, and quite inexcusably you're struck with the question: Okay, Zuko may indeed have taken the lightning for just anyone, but would Azula have shot the lightning at just anyone?

But there's yet a deeper layer to this question, that I don't recall ever seeing anyone discuss (though if somebody has, mea culpa). And that is: would you have written Zuko taking the lightning for anyone else?

Or in other words, who Zuko would have taken the lightning for is the wrong question to be asking; the question we ought to be asking is who Zuko should have taken the lightning for, instead.

Get your pens out, your Doylist hats on, and turn to page 394. It's time to think like an author for a hot minute.

(If you don't know what I mean by Watsonian vs. Doylist analyses, and/or if you need a refresher course, go have a skim of the first section of this 'ere post and then scoot your ass back to this one.)

So. You're the author. You've written almost the entirety of an animated series (look at you!!) and now you're at the climax, which you've decided is going to be an epic, hero-villain showdown. Classic. Unlike previous battles between these two characters, your hero is going to have a significant advantage in this fight - partly due to his own development as a hero at the height of his strength and moral conviction, and partly because your villain has gone through a bit of a Britney Spears 2007 fiasco, and isn't quite at the top of her game here. If things keep going at this pace, your hero is going to win the fight fairly easily - actually, maybe even too easily. That's okay though, you're a talented writer and you know just what will raise the stakes and give the audience a well-timed "oh shit" moment: you're going to have the villain suddenly switch targets and aim for somebody else. The hero will be thrown off his groove, the villain will gain the upper hand, the turns will have indubitably tabled. Villains playing dirty is the number 1 rule in every villain handbook after all, and each of the last two times your hero's braved this sort of fight he's faced an opponent who ended up fighting dishonourably, so you've got a lovely Rule of Three perfectly lined up for the taking. Impeccable. The warm glow of triumph shines upon you, cherubs sing, your English teachers clap and shed tears of pride. (Except for that one teacher you had in year 8 who hated everybody, but she's a right bitch and we're not talking about her today.)

Now here's the thing: your hero is a hero. Maybe he wasn't always a hero, but he certainly is one now. If the villain goes after an innocent third party, there's basically no-one your hero wouldn't sacrifice himself for. He's a hero! Heroes do be like that, it's kind of their thing. The villain could shoot a bolt of lightning at Bildad the Shuhite, and the only thing that'd stop our boy Redeemed Paladin Bravesoul McGee from shielding his foxy ass is the fact that Bildad the Shuhite has the audacity to exist in a totally different show (disgusten.)

But. You're holding the writer's pen. Minus crossover shenanigans you don't have the licensing or time-travel technology to achieve, you have full control over how this scene plays out. You get to decide which character to target to deliver the greatest emotional impact, the juiciest angst, the most powerful cinematic suspense. You get to decide whose life you'll put at risk, to make this scene the most intense spine-chilling heart-stopper it can possibly be.

This is the climax we're talking about, after all - now is not the time to go easy on the drama.

So.

Do you make the villain target just anyone?

Or do you make the villain target someone the hero cares about?

Perhaps, someone he cares about... a lot?

Maybe even, someone he cares about... more than anybody else?

You are the author. You are the God of this universe. You get to choose.

What would deliver the strongest punch?

If you happen to make the inadvisable decision of browsing through these tropes on TV tropes, aside from wasting the rest of your afternoon (you're welcome), you'll find that the examples listed are littered with threatened and dead love interests, and, well, there's a reason for that. For better or worse, romantic love is often portrayed by authors, and perceived by audiences, as a "true" form of love (often even, "the" true form of love). Which is responsible for the other is a chicken/egg situation, one I'm not going to go into for this post - and while I'm certainly not here to defend this perspective as objectively good, I do think it's worth acknowledging that it not only exists but is culturally rather ubiquitous. (If you're playing the love interest in a story with a hero v. a villain, you might wanna watch your back, is what I'm saying.)

Regardless of whether the vibe you're aiming for is romantic or platonic however, one thing is for certain: if you want maximum oomph, the way to achieve that is by making the villain go after the player whose death would hit the hero the hardest.

And like I said, this doesn't have to be played romantically (although it so often is). There are platonic examples in those trope pages, though it's also important to note that many of the platonic ones do show up in stories where a love interest isn't depicted/available/there's a strong "bromance" element/the hero is low-key ace - and keep in mind too that going that route sometimes runs a related risk of falling into queer-bait territory *coughJohnLockcough*

That said, if there is a canon love-interest available, one who's confessed her love for the hero, one who has since been imprisoned by the villain, one who can easily be written as being at the villain's disposal, and who could quite conveniently be whipped out for a mid-battle surprise round - you might find you have some explaining to do if you choose to wield your authorly powers to have the villain go after... idk, some other sheila instead.

(The fact that this ends up taking the hero out of the fight, and the person he sacrifices himself for subsequently throws herself into the arena risking life and limb to defeat the villain and rescue her saviour, also means the most satisfying way this plays out, narratively speaking, is if both of these characters happen to be the most important person in each other's lives - at least, as of that moment, anyway - but I think this post has gone on long enough, lol)

This is, by and large, a rebuttal post more than anything else, but the tl;dr here is - regardless of whether you want to read the scene as shippy or not, to downplay Zuko's sacrifice for Katara specifically as "not that deep™" because "Zuko would have taken the lightning for anyone anyway", suggests either that a) nobody should be reading into the implications of Katara being chosen as the person nearest and dearest to Zuko, so that putting her life in jeopardy can deliver the most powerful impact possible for an audience you'd bloody well hope are on the edge of their seats during the climax of your story or b) the writers made the inexplicable decision of having the villain threaten the life of... literally who the fuck ever, and ultimately landed on someone who's actually not all that important to the hero in the grand scheme of things - which is a cardinal writing sin if I ever saw one (even disregarding the Choice to then season it with mood lighting and sad violin music, on top of it all), and altogether something I'd be legitimately pissed about if my Zuko-OTP ship paired him with Mai, Sokka, or just about anybody else 😂

Most importantly c) I'm hungry, and I want snacks.

*The Aussies in the fandom will get this one. Everyone else can suffer in united confusion.

#zutara #anti anti zutara #lightning scene ramblings #meta #long post

597 notes · View notes

mionemymind · 2 months

Text

The Actress & The Geek

Summary: A late night practice causes Y/n and Wanda to confess their feelings.

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, Slight Angst

A/n: I might post another one shot like this with a similar layout but different setting, like what if they needed an understudy? Would y’all want that?

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

“Wandaaaa, where are you taking me?” Y/n annoyingly asked. Her newfound friend, Wanda Maximoff, dragged her to the College’s stage room. “I need help practicing my lines and you’re the only person I know who would be up at this time.”

Y/n glanced at the hallway clock, it was close to midnight and by now, Wanda’s friends were either partying or asleep. “I don’t know why you’re panicking so much. Everyone knows you’re going to get the part.”

Wanda pushed through the doors and excitedly ran up the stage, leaving Y/n by the bottom of the steps. “You don’t know that. I heard rumors that Violet might get it over me.” Y/n sighed at Wanda’s poor excuse of a lie. “Now stop being a baby and come over here.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and slowly walked up the steps and in front of Wanda. “Turn to page 214. I’ll start us off, okay?” Y/n reluctantly opened the script and turned to the page. Once Wanda saw that Y/n was ready, she started.

“Did I do something?” Wanda asked nervously, a hint of hurt in her tone. Y/n was stunned for a moment at how quickly Wanda got into character. Not wanting to disappoint her friend, Y/n tried her best to act in the scene.

“What makes you ask that?” Wanda walked away with a sigh as she combed her hand through her hair. “Are you seriously acting clueless right now?” Wanda gave Y/n a ridiculous look.

“Answering with a question doesn’t quite help-”

“You’re avoiding me.” A small pause happened in the script as Y/n and Wanda stared at each other. Y/n turned away, “I honestly don’t know what you mean.”

Wanda groaned and stomped back to Y/n. She spun her around and grabbed her hand. “Quit acting like a child and talk to me.” Wanda’s character was desperate to hear anything from Y/n, her eyes pleaded for some truth.

“I don’t know if I can tell you.” Wanda’s mouth twitched into a frown. She dropped Y/n’s hand and took a step back. Looking at the ground, Wanda played with her hands, unable to look at Y/n. “You used to tell me everything…but now you barely hang out with me anymore.”

Wanda’s eyes started to water, she started to walk away until Y/n’s character held her hand. “If I tell you-,” Y/n groaned as her character didn’t know what the best choice of words was going to be. In a softer tone, she says, “If I tell you…we can’t go back to the way things were.”

Wanda appeared scared of the truth but things had already changed ever since Y/n became distant. So who cares if the truth changes everything? Maybe now it will help this obstacle between them.

“I-,” Y/n’s eyes looked over Wanda’s shoulder, acting as if there was a character back there. “Tell me you’re not in love with him,” Y/n desperately begged. Wanda looked back, her hand still in Y/n’s, and pretended to see somebody.

She faced Y/n again, searching Y/n’s eyes for the meaning behind this. “What?” Y/n pulled Wanda closer, their faces inches apart. “Tell me you’re not in love with him.”

“Why does that matter?” Wanda challenged. Y/n gulped at how little space was between them but still pushed through with the character. “Because if you’re in love with him - I cannot be with you.”

Wanda acted as if someone called her name, but on cue, Y/n cupped Wanda’s cheek and kissed her briefly. “Find me - when you do, tell me you feel the same.” Y/n let go of Wanda’s hand and backed away to the other side of the stage, leaving Wanda at the center.

With wide eyes, Wanda touched her lips, the feeling of Y/n’s lips lingered. Her brain rumbled for the next line, but all she could focus on was Y/n. “Uh Wanda, did you want to finish the scene or?”

“You kissed me,” Wanda whispered to herself, surprised that it happened. “Did you want to kiss me?” Wanda only dreamed of a moment like this ever since she met Y/n back in the fall semester. She remembered bumping into Y/n on day one of rehearsal. Ever since then, they’ve always remained friends, until the day Wanda wanted something more.

In the basement of the party, Wanda sat with a group of her friends that go way back to high school and her castmates from the play. Y/n sat beside her already five shots deep into the night. Everyone was socializing and having a great time as the play had phenomenally gone well.

“We should play spin the bottle,” one of the crew techs said. Everyone was in some agreement wanting to spice the night up. “Okay, I’ll go first,” Steve said. The semester was close to an end and all Steve wanted to do was loosen up. He spent the majority of the semester worrying about his grades, his scholarship, and his football career.

The bottle spun and low and behold, it landed on the very person he wanted to kiss. “You down Bucky?” The liquor in Steve gave him the confidence he needed, otherwise he would have hidden. “You don’t even have to ask.” The two met in the middle for a slow but passionate kiss.

The group screamed with delight as Bucky deepened the kiss, almost going in with his tongue. “Okay you two, break it up!” Bucky pulled away with a charming grin on his face as Steve sat back looking love-struck. “Up next!”

Carol was next to spin, “God, I hope I get a good kisser,” Y/n whispered yelling into Wanda’s ear. The brunette forced a grin as she suddenly felt ill at the thought of someone else kissing you. She tried to think of something clever to say but nothing came out.

Focusing back on the group, Carol had just gotten done kissing Maria, another duo in Wanda’s group that had crushes on each other. It was now Y/n’s turn. She spun the bottle with great anticipation of who she was going to kiss tonight.

Slowly but surely, the bottle was making its last spins until it passed Wanda and stopped to the girl beside her, Natasha. Wanda could feel her heart drop as the two girls looked at each other with mischievous smiles. “Looks like you have to kiss me Y/n - don’t worry, I don’t bite.”

Wanda closed her eyes as she saw the pair leaning in, praying it would be over quickly. And when she opened them back up, she couldn’t help but wish that the bottle landed on her.

“Yeah - I mean it was in the script. I didn’t - I thought you wanted me to commit to it.” Y/n walked back to Wanda scared that she accidentally hurt her friend. “Was it fake for you?” Y/n stood still for a moment, afraid to answer. Wanda walked forward, closing the distance between them. “Tell me - did that kiss mean anything to you.”

“Wanda - I - I’m sorry. I really thought you wanted me to-”

“-What I want is to know if you like me or not. So tell me,” Wanda declared. The beating in her heart could not stop as she waited for Y/n’s answer. “I thought you would do just a kiss on my cheek or would have said that you kissed me out loud. But you kissed me and I can’t go back now.”

Tears formed in Wanda’s eyes as Y/n wracked in her brain for words to say. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long now - so please tell me that was real.” The tears fell to her cheeks as her heart beat in anticipation.

“Please say something,” Wanda begged.

“Please don’t cry,” Y/n whispered, her heart breaking at the sight of Wanda crying in front of her. “Why shouldn’t I?” Wanda wiped some tears with the back of her hand, feeling stupid for even confessing.

“‘Cause I never knew you felt the same.” Y/n pulled Wanda close and kissed her deeply, wishing to show that this was the kiss that Wanda deserved, not from some stupid play, but from the fact that Y/n truly loved Wanda.

Wanda steadied herself, placing her hands against Y/n’s chest as she fiercely kissed back. The more Wanda pushed to steady herself, the more Y/n leaned in, begging for more. Their gasps and labored breaths were in sync as the kiss went from passionate to needy.

With each kiss, Y/n poured her heart, wishing that she could stop tasting her tears. Pulling back slightly, Y/n heaved out, “Please stop crying.” Y/n used one hand to wipe away the tears. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Wanda chuckled as she looked at Y/n with such adoration. “I think you owe it to me to redo the scene.”

“Want me to kiss you better?” Wanda pondered for a second, “Something like that plus you’re acting skills could use some practice.”

Y/n gasped, a feigned hurt expression on her face. “I think I was amazing. Might have to audition for lead love interest.”

“Guess we gotta practice our kiss scenes.”

“Way ahead of you Maixmoff.”

Taglist: @halobaby @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog

@sighsam @olsensnpm @tquick99 @feolok @emilyprentisslittlewhore @mvddison99 @iamapotato @yuhloversxx @mjaudrey @upsidedowndanvers @somewhatgreatexpectations @wandavixen @magicallymaximoff @username23345 @coollemonsaresour @littlewinchester15 @aimezvousbrahms @afuckingshituniverse @am-just-a-cosmic-joke-to-me

@ohmygooddamnbisexualmood @diaryoflife @s7uts @newyork1432 @the-anxious-stargazer @hello-mtf @marvelousbelladonna @ima-gi–na-tion @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @the-camilucha

@itsnottilly @171611 @kaitlynroseb @daisybri7 @drpepperobsessed @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @marvelousbelladonna @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @chasethemoon @naixia00 @lostandsearching @stupidsapphicsstuff @haechanana @the-camilucha @severepeanutartisanhands @owloftheshadows @somewhatgreatexpectations @ywuen @mixed-fandom-mess @loomontoia @ilovemarvelwomen @coxmicbabygirl @cyanide-mustard @mrs-avenger3000 @prentisshoe @andrea-stark @simpforwandanat @abimess @randomshyperson @yourtaletotell @magically-queer-stuff

@imapotatao @iliketozoneout @maximoffbrossupremacy@olsensnpm @psychadelichues @whitelotus00 @taliiiaasteria @tynix @autorasexy @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @hiiraya

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #marvel #the actress and the geek

473 notes · View notes

puckinghischier · 2 months

Text

Chef’s Kiss

Nico x fem!reader, soft!Nico, domestic!Nico

summary: Nico fluff, basically

notes: i just really love soft nico and couldn’t get him out of my head so here’s this (also ignore the fact i keep using the same pics in my posts, i need to find more 💀)

[2k]

Nico was always trying to do little things to bring a smile to your face. Whether it was having the laundry washed, folded, and put away by the time you got home, sending you funny videos and silly selfies throughout the day, or simply having a glass of your favorite wine waiting on you as soon as you walked through the door, he loved providing small moments of happiness for you. He didn’t have time to do things for you often, his schedule getting increasingly busier as the season goes on, but today he had a completely free afternoon and wanted to have your favorite meal plated and waiting for you to enjoy as soon as you got off work. The idea came to him when you called him on what was supposed to be your lunch break.

“Neeks, I’m so sorry but I have to work late again. I’m having to re-do all of my reports for the day because my boss didn’t like the format that I used, even though it’s the exact format he told me to use three days ago! I swear sometimes he just wants to make my life a living hell. I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

Nico had a fond smile on his face, despite the nature of your call; hearing you rant to him about work was always something he looked forward to. While he didn’t love the fact that you were upset and that your boss was a grade A asshole, he loved being the one you came to when you were frustrated and just needed to blow off steam. It always made him happy to know that he was the one you called when you needed a mid-day pick me up on particularly stressful days. He had tried to tell you multiple times to just quit—that he makes enough for the both of you to live on – but you wouldn’t even entertain the thought. You’d always tell him no and that you needed to pull your weight with the bills and rent, too. You didn’t want to have all of the tears you shed while you were in college go to waste. To quote your exact words ‘I’m going to use this damn degree even if it kills me’. He admired your work ethic and that you didn’t want to have him be your own personal bank, but it was times like this he wishes you would just take his suggestion to heart and actually quit.

“I understand, but don’t work too late, schatz. It’s not good for you. Tuck and I will be here waiting on you when you get here,” Nico looks over at the cat quietly snoozing over on the couch. “I noticed you left your lunch in the fridge; do you need me to bring you something? I don’t have to go back to the rink today for anything, so I could pick up something from that sushi place you like and we could have a little lunch date? Give you a few minutes to reset and recharge?”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t have time to eat today anyways. At this point working through lunch is the only way I’ll be able to come home before midnight. Thanks for the offer, though, Neeks. I have to go, my boss is calling me, probably to tell me something else I did wrong. I’ll text you when I leave, love you,” you hang up the phone, not giving Nico a chance to respond. He knows your boss hates when he catches you taking personal calls on company time, so he just sends you a simple “I love you, too. Please eat something and don’t work too hard” text since you hung up before he had time to tell you himself.

As soon as he pressed send, Nico grabbed his keys and took off to the grocery store. He really only went to pick up the ingredients to make dinner, but he couldn’t help making a quick stop at the local florist, grabbing a small bouquet of daisies he knows you’ll love. As he was driving home, he remembers this bakery you had told him you’ve been wanting to try, so he finds himself in said bakery picking out a few baked goods for you to taste test (and maybe a few for himself, too). By the time he had made it back home it was well past five, when you typically leave your office for the day. Once he brought his haul of groceries, flowers, and pastries in the door, Tuck greeted him by meowing loudly for his food.

“Sorry, Tuck, I’m late for dinner, aren’t I?” Nico asks the cat as he walks over and fills the hangry cat’s food bowl. “Now that you’re fed, I need to get to work on feeding your mom. That is, if I can manage not to burn anything.”

Nico got to work immediately, turning on the cooking playlist you had made and grabbing his ‘Kiss the Swiss’ apron you had jokingly gifted him for Christmas. He pulled out the recipe book that your mom gave you two as a house-warming gift when you first moved in. Just last week you had been talking about how you missed your mom’s famous pasta, so he decided that was his attempted dish of the night. He laid out all of the ingredients and followed the recipe as closely as he could, paying special attention to all of the little notes your mother added in the margins of the typed recipe. About an hour into Nico’s cooking you sent him a text that you were nearly finished and would be home soon, but he was so busy trying to perfect making pasta from scratch that he never even looked at his phone. When he was on his third attempt at the pasta dough, he heard the front door open.

He looked over at the clock to see that it was nearly seven-thirty. He heard your keys hit the bowl sitting on the small table beside the front door and your sigh of relief once you took your shoes off. He could hear the soft thuds your feet made on the hardwood while you walked into the living room. He looked up from the counter to see your tired body drift over to the couch where Tuck laid sound asleep.

“Hey, Tuck. How was your day? Did you catch a lot of Z’s? Dream about catching mice? Poop on your dad’s pillow again?” Nico heard your soft voice say, chuckling at your last question.

The poor kitten had, somehow, got locked in yours and Nico’s bedroom a few weeks ago and neither of you noticed until it was well past feeding time and the little furball hadn’t come running into the kitchen screaming for his dinner. It took the two of you twenty minutes to hear the soft meows coming from your bedroom, the TV in the living room having drowned them out for most of the day. As soon as you opened the door Tuck came sprinting out of the room as fast as he could, acting as if he’d been in there for days. He ran straight to his food bowl and turned around, glaring at Nico and yourself. Later that evening the two of you made your way to the bedroom to settle down for the night only to find that Tuck had left a nice, smelly present on his pillow. Nico was appalled, to say the least. Gagging and holding his pillow out with straight arms as if it was poisonous. You, however, were doubled over with laughter. You fell onto the bed and were laughing hysterically when Nico finally came back into the room, no pillow to be seen.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing; it’s disgusting! The cat shit on my pillow!” Nico expressed, standing in front of the bed with his arm crossed, looking like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

“Neeks, it’s hilarious! Out of all the places in the room he could’ve shit, he saw your pillow and thought ‘Ah, yes. Dad’s pillow. I think this will be my new bathroom.” You wipe the tears from your eyes, slightly out of breath from your laughing fit.

“Well, of course it’s funny when it’s not your pillow! If he would’ve shit on your pillow, you would be as upset as I am.” Nico huffed, still in his childish stance.

“Wait, where is your pillow?”

“In the trash.”

“You threw away the whole pillow!?” you exclaimed, starting to laugh all over again.

“Of course, I threw away the whole pillow! I’m not about to sleep on that thing tonight! It’s contaminated!”

“Nico, you could’ve just gotten a new pillow case. You didn’t have to throw your whole pillow away! What are you going to sleep on tonight?” You asked him, amusement clear in your voice.

“Well…I didn’t think that far ahead,” Nico said, his stance deflating a little.

He ended up sleeping on a throw pillow from the couch that night, picking up a new pillow on his way home from practice the next morning. Since then, the two of you have always made sure to keep your bedroom door open anytime Tuck isn’t in his usual spot on the couch.

Nico smiles at the memory, completely forgetting the fact that he was supposed to be kneading the pasta dough in his hands. By the time his thoughts circulate back to the task at hand, he hears you ask the cat “Where’s your dad, huh?” followed by the sound of your clothes rustling as you move to get off of the couch.

“Nico? You in here?” you call as you walk around the corner of the living room into the kitchen. “Neeks- Oh, there you are. What are you doing?” You stopped in the doorway of the kitchen when you took in the scene in front of you. The pots and pans on the stove, the steam coming from a pot of boiling water, the smell of chicken in the oven, and the bouquet of flowers and box of pastries on the counter next to them. Then your eyes move over to Nico, noticing he was absolutely covered in flour. He had flour in his hair, on his face, on his apron, in the floor, and all over the counter.

“Nico, what the hell are you doing? What is all of this?” you asked him once the two of you made eye contact.

“Well, I was trying to have dinner waiting on you when you got home because I know you’ve had a shitty day, but I’ve just now realized that I don’t know how to make pasta from scratch.”

“Why are you trying to make pasta from scratch?” you walk towards him, laughing at how distraught he looks.

“You said you’ve been craving your mom’s pasta recipe, so I thought it would be a good way to cheer you up after the day that you’ve had,” he replied, grabbing a towel to wipe the flour off of his hands.

“Nico, I love you, I do. And I appreciate the effort, but please throw that ball of…whatever that is in the trash and just use dried pasta next time,” you look over at what’s supposed to be pasta dough, reaching him and placing your arms on his shoulders, hands coming together to rest on the back of his neck.

“I try to make you a nice meal and this is the response I get? No ‘nice try’ or ‘wow, it smells great in here!’” he jokes, looking down at you, attempting to look offended, but his eyes only reflect love and amusement.

“You’ll get real praise when you learn how to make pasta from scratch. For now, consider this your compliment,” you stand on your toes, pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“You call that a compliment? Read the apron and try again.”

You laugh before meeting him halfway for a real kiss this time, thinking to yourself just how lucky you were to have Nico in your life.

410 notes · View notes

hiraya-rawr · 2 years

Text

"hands off! I'm taken!" — diluc .

synopsis !! you pick up your drunk lover from the tavern

note !! I finally posted something! my schedule is still full but things should settle down more by september :> enjoy this fun fic!

contains !! gn reader, ft. kaeya and others! alcohol consumption, not proofread

Your lover rarely drinks. Scratch that, he doesn't drink at all if he could help it.

So whatever encouraged him to drink tonight of all nights was beyond you. It wasn't his shift in the bar, yet he insisted you shouldn't wait for him as he might come home late from the tavern. Apparently, he'll be meeting up with Kaeya, Jean, and a few others.

You're overjoyed, of course! It's not everyday your overworking lover decides to take a break and meet up with his old friends, much less those who are involved with the knights. You practically pushed him on his way to socialize and have fun.

Perhaps he had too much fun.

It was past midnight when you stopped by the tavern, seeing as you lived nearby anyway.

Diluc sat amongst a small crowd. You recognize them to be Kaeya, Jean, Lisa, Venti, and Rosaria, each nursing their own drink in their hands. What surprised you was that Diluc had a glass of his own— emptied, and that Kaeya was pouring him another round.

"Ah, it seems like your ticket home has arrived, D," Kaeya muses upon spotting you. The redhead only huffs in reply.

"What a joyous occasion! Come join us, (Name)!" Venti cheers, swinging around his large mug.

It's only when you approached the group did you notice your lover's unfocused eyes, glazed over as he blinks away at nothing.

"What did you do?" You raise an eyebrow, eyes narrowing suspiciously at Kaeya. The Cavalry Captain raises his hands in defense.

"You're accusing me? I'm hurt," He chuckles, "You and I both know he isn't so easy to trick into drinking."

You glance over at Jean, who gives you a sympathetic laugh, "It's true. Surprisingly, sir decided to drink tonight. It wasn't that much, I assure you."

"Wasn't that much, she says, yet he looks just about ready to pass out," Rosaria mutters, sipping on her own glass. You let out a sigh, seems like you'll be responsible for taking him home tonight. You're not bothered at all, in fact, you're a little glad he decided to let loose and have fun, no matter how unusual it seems.

If anything, it's a little funny to see him look gruff and cold, he doesn't even seem drunk until you notice the flush on his face and the spin in his eyes. Grabbing an empty glass and filling it with water from a pitcher, you gesture for the redhead to drink.

"Come on, 'Luc, drink some water and let's get you home."

He turns his head away to the side. You raise an eyebrow.

"'Luc, drink some water."

"No."

". . . You need to sober up–"

"No."

His head arcs further away from you, arms crossed. You glance at his face, is he. . . is he seriously pouting right now? Kaeya chuckles next to you. You aren't sure what kind of drunk shenanigan is going through his mind, but you decided to let it slide, opting to bring him home instead.

"Alright then, let's get out of here instead." With a hand on his shoulder, you gesture for him to stand but he wacks it away. Diluc? Your Diluc?? Wacked your hand away???

You blink at him before recovering to grab onto his arm, trying to pull him up, "Come on, 'Luc! We got to get you home!"

"No! Hands off!" He sluggishly pushes you, failing but he plops back onto his seat.

"What?"

"Hands off me! I'm taken!"

You freeze. The little group around you pauses as well. There's a loud snort in the air, presumably from Venti.

"Diluc, what?" You bite back your laugh. Laughing at the drunk is bad etiquette, you really shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't.

"I'm–" He slurs, facing you with a pointed look and a loopy glare, "Taken. Go find someone else to mooch."

Archons, help you not to burst out laughing in this situation.

Opting to giggle behind closed lips, you squat next to his chair, reaching out to cup his cheek but he scoots away from your touch.

"Diluc," You laugh, "It's me."

"Not- not interested."

"I'm literally your lover."

He blinks at you. You aren't sure if you got through him but he immediately stands upright, wobbling from the action. You catch him by the waist for support.

"Woah there, are you ready to go?"

"I'm going-" He tests his steps, "Going home to my darling, (Name)." With shaky hands, he pushes you aside, "I told you I have a lover!"

A loud laugh starts from behind you. Kaeya hunches over the table, gripping his stomach as the rest try to hide their chuckles behind their hands.

"Oh dear, my dear brother," The cryo user stands, wiping a tear from his eye, "Seems like you truly had too much tonight. This person here is assigned to take you to (Name)." The sly smile on Kaeya's face tells you to play along.

Diluc rubs at his eyes, everything seems to swirl, "Really?"

"Yes."

". . . Alright then."

Was he really that easy to trick? Your jaw could've dropped open. As expected of Kaeya who naturally dealt with all of Diluc's drunk shenanigans.

"Let's go then. . ." Diluc mumbles, glancing at you, "But no touching."

At his first step, he nearly trips over his feet if it wasn't for you grabbing onto his arm. You wrap it over your shoulder, pulling him upright.

"Surely, it's alright if I hold onto your arm?" You try to reason.

". . . Okay."

With a side glance at Kaeya and the rest, you nod them goodbye as they wave their pleasantries. Now that you're outside the tavern, you decide to take your drunk lover to your home nearby, a place he's frequently visited.

"Honestly, whatever made you drink so much tonight. . ." You huff, grabbing onto him and trying to get him to walk normally.

"My lover, you see. . ." He trails off.

"What about your lover?" You can't help but prod. Surely, you haven't done something wrong, right?

"Everything. . . Everything about them." Diluc mumbles, a sigh escaping him, "Just— amazing."

You can't help the way your lips sorts into a smile.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"That must be nice. Is that why you don't want to go home with me?" You can't help but tease as he glowers, turning his face to get a better look at you. You notice the way his eyes look clearer now.

". . . As mentioned, I–" A groan, "Am devoted to my lover, no matter how charming you look."

"Mhmm, sure, yeah." You laugh, taking in his compliment, "You're devoted, alright."

"It's true–" He pushes away from you to fumble with his coat in an enthusiasm that's only seen when he's drunk, "Would you like to see the ring?"

Ring? What ring? You freeze in your steps as he digs into his pockets, pulling out an enclosed little box with intricate carvings. He opens it to reveal a ring– one you've only ever dreams of having (and receiving from him). The details, a testament to how much he knows what you like, while mixing in his own interests.

Your heart skips a beat.

"'Luc–"

"Archons, I'm nervous," He groans into his hand, carefully closing the box despite his drunken mannerisms, "I can't even– can't even sleep at night thinking about it."

You're still in shock as you gaze up at him. Sure, you've talked about a future together, but it always felt so far away— Diluc was too busy, always with something else to prioritize and it didn't seem like the right time for him no matter how right it was for you.

"Is. . . Is that why you drank?"

He looks at you with a raised brow, "Nervousness is one thing. I needed everyone's advice as well." Your heart flutters, was he ever this thoughtful? The answer is yes. You reach out to him again, hands as shaky as his own, but yours shook in happiness.

"Diluc, I—"

He lurches, a heaving sound down his throat as if threatening to puke. You reach out, holding onto him again with a small laugh, "Alright, alright, let's get you home first, Luc."

He groans in reply, voice wobbly and weak, "I'm. . . taken. . . "

"I know, my love."

•

Sunshine filters into the bedroom and Diluc shuffles under the covers. His head was throbbing, his throat felt dry, he's reminded again why he never drinks.

Grape juice is definitely better. Grape juice is yummy. Why can't he make a grape juice relaxant? He sure as heck can, what's his money for if he can't fund an entire academic foundation focusing on the production of anxiety-calming juice?

Before he could even begin to think about the business prospects and expenses to spare, your footsteps catches his attention as you enter the room.

"Slept well?"

He brushes his hair back, sitting up groggily, "I've had better nights."

"Here, have some water." You gesture to the cup in your hands to which he drinks from obediently.

"Thank you."

"I'm just glad that you're allowing me to offer you water." You bite back a chuckle.

"What?"

Standing up with a hum and a shrug, you turn away from him, "I don't know. Last night, you wouldn't even let me touch you."

His eyebrows furrow together, "That's ridiculous. Why would I do that?"

"Apparently, you have a lover, and I was trying to tempt you away into my home~"

Diluc freezes like a deer in the headlights, heat rushing up his face, turning it a shade as red as his hair, "I. . . said that?"

You laugh, turning towards him as you begin to explain everything that happened in the tavern and how his friends reacted. This only helped to worsen his embarrassment.

"I'm going to kill Kaeya. . ." he mutters under his breath, hiding away his face before peeking at you, "And then I suppose you walked me home? Did I. . . say anything after?"

You spotted the way his eyes glance to his coat, hanging by the door. Your lips twitch into a smile.

"Nope. You were quiet the whole way home."

You can't wait to embarrass him even more after his proposal.

masterlist 02 || commissions via ko-fi

note !! writing this made me all the drunk embarrassing moments 😭

taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts @stygianoir @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @klutzkat @stygianoir14

14K notes · View notes

trilobitepunch · 3 months

Text

And then I accidentally made an AU...

I'm a sucker for Edo-period things so I got to thinking, well, what if...

The boys are some...Yōkai hybrid (I'm not going for accuracy here, everything is super-loose) and they basically get adopted by the Hamato Clan. Yeah, that's supposed to be Yoshi, I just borrowed off his teen haircut, haha!

I have this problem about wanting to nail down details before I do things (this is why I don't GM games, I get really carried away with trying to come up with well...everything- and the problem is trying to come with the everything XD;;)

As a fan of the series "Amatsuki" I was thinking the whole enmity between humans and yōkai thing would be interesting to go off.

I have been picking at ideas and nothing is completely solid except for me wanting to make them spikier, lol. I'm not outright making them kappa- let's be real, those things are weeeird. But the lads are more claw-ier and I gave the water boys webbing. And I just like making Donnie's shell spinier I guess. I did not put their usual markings because I was going to do something with kanji and tattoos for Reasons but I am very bad at kanji and I'm going for something more stylistic anyway so anyway gotta figure out stuff to stick on their arms.

I might ditch the hakama but I thought it was fun. My Bleach days are showing lol.

...I need to stop posting after midnight.

#rottmnt #my weird little au #rottmnt bound by the light of the moon #rottmnt bbtlotm

427 notes · View notes

atlasnessie · 3 months

Text

or — loving beastzai

cw: mild mentions of blood

the text you’ve gotten from chuuya wasn’t anything new. dazai had come back to the port mafia headquarters late, far past midnight, soaked with blood that was both his and not. the executive urges you to come and take care of him.

the walk inside the building didn’t concern you. people took a step out of your way as you went up the elevator and into the office of your lover, the doors swinging open with a swift tug by a few guards you were posted by the room. there, dazai stood in the middle of the room gazing out one of the large windows and into the streets and port of yokohama, clothing stained with scarlet red, his bandages discolored with an unrecognizable shade you swore you’ve never seen on bandages and gauze.

the doors close behind you as you stand silently, your nightwear making you feel slightly out of place of osamus rather professional attire. without turning to face you, dazai cracks his dry lips open, words barely a whisper.

“you should be at home.”

you can’t respond, unable to find the words that you should say. instead, as if it was a routine set by destiny and fate, you walk past dazai with the soft shuffle of your shoes on the red carpet and go behind dazai’s desk and open a large closet, crouching down to find a first aid kit that you had placed for occasions such as this. you stand up with the kit in your arms, then look towards your lover, who’s eye is locked with yours. your soft, tired eyes tell him to take a seat, words without the struggle of saying them.

dazai walks slowly to the desk, sitting on his seat with his back straight. you place the kit down on the large dark wooden table and slowly peel off his coat with your sleeves rolled up. crimson stains your hands slightly as you do so, dropping the coat on the ground and opening the kit with a hand. you pull out a small towel, wiping any blood that was yet to be dried and crusted on the exposed parts of his back, shoulders, and neck. you stop and look at osamu with a gentle look, tugging on the bandages on his neck gently.

“can i ..?”

“you know you can. don’t need’ta ask.”

“just making sure.”

with soft, feathery hands, you peel off the bandages off his neck, the blood making the fabrics heavier than usual. as dazai’s neck and body unravels, you pick the towel up again, wiping the sweaty blood off.

“youre gonna need to take a shower when we get home. not everything is coming off …” osamu hums in response, his breathing shallow and simple.

home. he hasn’t been home in a while. most of his nights resided in the grim darkness of the port mafia. he hadn’t been home to you and your embrace in a few week, his arms had nearly forgotten your touch, warm and gentle, like another to their newborn child.

dazai lifts a hand up to his bandages eye and tugs on it, unraveling it and allowing it to fall on his lap. shifting your eyes, you peak to see both of his eyes. dark and void-like. you couldn’t read them as well as he read your own.

“we don’t have to talk about it. i know you’re trying to think of an excuse, osamu.”

he whispers a sorry.

after a few more minutes of wiping off any blood you could, you place the towel down and sigh. your hands smell metallic and osamu reeks of death. silently, you start to clean up, separating unused things back into the medical kit and blood soaked towels and bandage rolls out of the way.

“you should be at home,” osamu starts again. “you hate the port mafia headquarters. you hate the violence here.” his head shifts to you, lifeless eyes staring into yours.

“so why are you here ?”

“because,” you said with a matter of fact tone. closing the kit, you place it back into the closet and close the doors to it. “i love you.”

“don’t do any of this out of love.” with the shift of the chair, dazai is now face to face with you. a cold, shaky hand reaches out for your warm cheeks.

“i don’t wanna make you uncomfortable with all this, love.”

his voice is soft and mellow, different from how he usually speaks to you. you can’t help but shake your head, a slight smile on your lips.

“i’m okay as long as you’re okay.”

the room goes silent once again. dazai can’t bring himself to respond back, a foreign tug of guilt twirling with his heart. your hands are stained with red, dazai can see. there are dark shades of crimson under your nails and slightly staining your nightwear. he feels terrible. he can’t help it. and yet …

to see a soft smile on your face as you clean him up, the blood soaked coat staining the red carpet below him, he can’t help it but feel as if you being in this world, with him as you are in the other, is fate. destiny itself.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs dazai #bsd dazai #osamu dazai #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x you #beast dazai #beast dazai x reader #atlas writes !

536 notes · View notes

thehistoriccemetery · 4 months

Note

would love if you could do prompt 1! especially if tav is being a hard ass and trying to keep pushing themselves hehe :3

Companions with an Exhausted Tav

Three posts in one week?? I’m truly on a roll. (Nah I was sick this week so I was off work for two days.)

Anyway here’s Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheira with a very sleepy (and stubborn) reader.

Shadowheart

You usually go to bed quite a bit later than Shadowheart, but luckily she’s never awake to realize just how late you’re staying up.

Until one night you push your luck a little too far. By the time you climb into bed next to her she pops her head up and notices the sun is already starting to rise.

“Love, have you been up all night?” She asks. You decline to answer, and luckily she’s too sleepy to push the matter, for now. You both fall back asleep.

You’re livid when you wake up to the noon sun and find the adventuring party had already left for the day. Without you.

You find Shadowheart polishing her spear, as she decided to stay back today as well.

You approach her, but she doesn’t even look up at you. “Good afternoon sleepyhead.”

“What the hell were you thinking not waking me up this morning?” you say, clearly aggravated.

She props the spear up next to her. “I did” she says, finally looking up at you. “If you’re too tired to get up the first time I wake you, you’re too tired to go adventuring. Now go lay back down. You clearly need a nap.”

You soften, immediately realizing your mistake. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just…”

“Tired,” she finishes for you. “I know, love. Seriously, go back to bed. You’re so grumpy when you’re tired.”

“I’m not grumpy!” You protest. She morphs her face into an over exaggerated pout, and repeats your words in a mocking tone.

You can’t help yourself, so you laugh. “Whatever. I’ll go back to bed.”

Lae’zel

You wake up in a panic as you’re being roughly dragged across the ground by your ankles.

You flail and struggle against your captors strong hand, but you can’t get loose.

“Tskva! Stop doing that!” Lae’zel shouts. It’s only then you realize who your “captor” really is.

“Lae’zel?” You ask, confused. “What are you doing? Why are you dragging me across the- ow!” You shout as you’re dragged over a rock.

“Seems this is the only way to get you to bed,” she responds, unfazed by your outburst.

She only stops dragging you once you’re in your bed. You immediately sit up and try to escape.

She catches you and pushes you back down. “Lae’zeeel,” you groan exaggeratedly. “I was doing something important.”

“If it is important than you should be able to keep your eyes open while doing it,” she retorts.

Well fuck. She has you there. You have been having trouble focusing for the last couple hours. Maybe it is best if you just go to sleep.

You’re surprised when Lae’zel crawls into your bed beside you. She doesn’t usually stay the night. “What are you doing?” You ask.

“Sleeping. Just like you should be,” she answers. You sigh, thinking of all the crafty ways you could sneak past her once she goes to sleep.

She interrupts your thoughts with a “and if you think you’re sneaking out, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Karlach

You’re passed out over a desk when Karlach gets up for a little midnight snack.

“Oh love,” she sighs. It must be four in the morning. How long have you been up?

You wake up slightly and mumble something indecipherable. You can hardly lift your head up off the desk.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” she whispers, throwing your arms over her shoulders and picking you up.

You unconsciously nuzzle her neck and let out a soft “mmm” at the familiar scent of your lover.

She lays you down on her own bed, trying to keep you upright for long enough to get you out of your armor.

She tries to be quiet, not only to disturb you as little as possible, but also to not wake up the entire camp.

When you’re finally out of your armor, she realizes she can’t find your camp clothes. Eventually, she settles on giving you one of her shirts that’s way too big for you.

You smile and mumble something that may or may not have been a “thank you.”

She finally lays your head against the pillow and you snuggle into the soft sheets and warm shirt.

She crawls cautiously into bed next to you, trying not to wake you up.

She can’t quite tell if you’re awake or not when you climb up on her chest and mumble “mmm warm.”

Minthara

The thing about Minthara is she’s not going to argue with you about taking care of yourself.

You can eat when you’re hungry, sleep when you’re tired, and piss and when you need to piss because you’re an adult and you can take care yourself.

So when she catches you burning the midnight oil for the third night in a row she’s angry. Like more angry than you’d expected.

“Hold on, Minthara,” you say, knowing she about to make you go to bed. “I just need to finish th-“

“No.” You’re interrupted abruptly. “You’re going to bed and I’m not going to catch you out here like this again.”

“Minthara, there’s things that have to done-“

“They can wait till morning,” she interrupts again, trying to stay calm even as you’re testing her patience.

“Just let me-“

“You have to take care of yourself, Tav!” She shouts, finally loosing her temper. “This isn’t an endurance test, this is your life: the one you have chosen to share with me. And I will not have you squander it out here, night after night, robbing yourself of sleep.”

You sigh, taking her hand and pulling yourself to your feet. You don’t even realize how tired you are until you’re swaying trying to keep upright.

She picks you up unexpectedly. You would have never taken Minthara for the type to carry you to bed. She’s never carried you to bed before.

Still, you accept the rare affection and wrap your legs around her waist while your arms and head rest on her shoulder.

She gently lays you down on your bed and pushes your hair off your forehead before giving it a kiss.

She really does love you, and she’s doing her best here. You just gotta take care of yourself, okay?

Jaheira

“Am I going to have to set a bedtime for you like I do the children?” She half teases, surprising you as she approaches your half asleep body.

You groan as if she just woke you from deep sleep. “I’m awake, sorry what time is it.”

Jaheira smirks and bends down so she’s close to your face. “Well past your bedtime,” she teases before giving you a short kiss.

“But I haven’t finished-“

“You’re done,” she interrupts matter of factly. Clearly this isn’t up for debate.

You groan again and mumble “fine,” reaching your arms up for her to carry you to bed.

She laughs, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over her shoulder. If you’re going to insist on her carrying you, you’re going to deal with her doing it like this.

She’s gentle when she lays you against the bed, crawling in next to you and wrapping her arms around you.

“Wait, so if it’s so late why are you up?” You ask.

She chuckles. “Don’t worry about it,” she answers before kissing you behind the ear and falling asleep.

466 notes · View notes

gyuswhore · 1 month

Text

Never Shall We Die [teaser]

«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line »»

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool?

The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows.

Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk

WORD COUNT [full fic]: est. 30k | [teaser]: ~1k

RELEASE DATE: est. May 19th, 2024 - may change

‼️PLEASE SEND AN ASK OR REPLY TO THIS POST TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST (ageless blogs WILL NOT BE ADDED)‼️

masterlist

WARNINGS [!is subject to change upon publishing of the full fic!]: slowburn, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, smut tags to be added in the full fic

[AN]: hai i am back with another monstrosity 😃 biggest thank you to @highvern for brainstorming with me and beta-ing for me, this fic would not exist without her!!!!! im super excited for this to come out, its my best work yet and i hope you all like it too!!!!

teaser under the cut!

“Did your stupid father drop you on your head as a baby?”

Hoshi stands before you under the light of the midnight moon, an incredulous expression on his face. You try to keep the scowl off your own but it proves difficult when his voice pierces your skull.

You ignore him from your position on the floor, “I know my father, and I know he loathes you enough to finally want you and your incompetent crew gone for good.”

He scratches his chin, “Can’t be that incompetent if he hates us so much.”

“I can help you.”

“You were ready to die than to be on the same ship as us a few hours ago. What’s changed?”

“Perspective,” you shrug in an attempt to remain nonchalant.

“Are you gonna go back to wailing in the morning then?”

God, this was going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

“You want your ship back and you were hoping for someone less important to exchange it for. But you’re stuck with me and you know it’s not going to end well for you. You need my help.”

“Why so merciful, miss princess? Are you not on your father’s side?”

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue.

“I want you to kill my father.”

If his eyebrows were raised before, they’ve broken for the skies now. He leans his head back, eyes closing for a moment before reopening, reigning back to you before asking very gracefully; “What?”

“I want you to kill my father.”

“No, I got that bit,” he snaps. “Your father as in, the King?”

“Yes, as you’ve pointed out far more times than anyone else.” You can’t help but roll your eyes despite the weight of the situation and the hammering in your chest.

He stares at you in an expression you can’t quite read, and it unsettles you deeply. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gravely miscalculated, watching as he moves around the mast you’re tied to. Out of the corner of your eye you see the metal glint of a dagger, and you nearly short circuit.

Is he about to cut my hands off?

You feel a distinct tug at your wrists, the sound of slicing, and the voice in your head asking why it didn’t hurt.

Suddenly your hands are free, intact and free as you achingly bring them in front of you, wincing audibly at the pain of moving them after so long.

“You can jump into the water if you’d like, I won’t stop you.” He walks back over, sitting cross legged opposite you, at eye level.

“What?”

“You’ve clearly gone mad, I’ll find another way to get my ship back.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Of course, and I utterly enjoy having a kingdom’s worth of blood on my hands. Shall I take the entirety of the court down while we’re at it?”

“Why are you acting like you’re above murder? Another part of your strange moral code?”

“No, no, not above it at all. But I like my head and rather not have it guillotined. They might skim over the death of some too-nosy soldier but I doubt they’d leave me be after I put a bullet between the King’s eyes.”

“I’ll protect you.”

He looks at you for a moment, “Quite reassuring.”

You sit up straighter, licking your lips as you prepare yourself. “My father isn’t a good man.”

The pirate captain snorts, “Oh, I’m well aware.”

You try not to stare too hard at the still unsheathed dagger that he digs into the floorboards, knifing out splinters in disregard.

“My father doesn’t want me home, he wants the crown home. He wants me to be a carbon copy of himself, he wants to be in control long after he’s gone.” You try not to grind your teeth too hard but it’s difficult when your father’s face burns behind your eyelids. “I want control over the throne, full control.”

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

“Then what? You’ll pardon me and my crew after we get our hands dirty for you?” he asks, eyes wide in mock hope.

“Yes. You can do whatever it is that you sail about doing and no one will be of bother. I might ask you for sparing favours. For a wage of course. But other than that, you can live as lawlessly as you wish.”

“You’re asking me to become your personal lackey?”

“Having a queen’s favour is no small feat I hope you’re aware. Besides, it's a leap better than the hoops you’ve been jumping through during my father’s reign.”

You realised his face had been shrouded by the dark between your negotiating and the clouds that had veiled the moon. Every moment that was supposed to strengthen your understanding of the man that sat across from you only brought you more confusion.

“You want your ship and freedom of land and sea,” you continue when it’s silent for a beat too long. “I only ask for a small favour in return.”

“I’d argue the miniscule nature of what you’re asking from me,” he scoffs.

“Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line.”

There crawls in the silence once again, the same one that seems to grab you by the throat for every moment that ticks past undisturbed.

“We’ll have to see to that,” he says, huffing as he gets back on his boot clad feet. You follow him with your eyes as he walks towards the creaky stairs that lead to the lower deck, utterly confused.

“Where are you going?” you ask, bewildered at his strange behaviour.

Turning around, just as he had a mere day ago in your quarters and you feel yourself suppressing a shudder. “I have a crew to consult.”

So he was considering it.

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?”

342 notes · View notes

sunflower-lilac42 · 4 days

Text

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝘂𝗽𝗰𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 | 𝘲𝘩43 ❀

➪ summary: trying to go to the bathroom, her boyfriend's brothers and friend stop her to make cupcakes at midnight

➪ warnings: none :)

➪ word count: 1.2k

➪ file type: fic; sequel to white girl music (or standalone if choose to be)

➪ sunny's notes: the first new fic i'm posting on here!! this can be read as a standalone but also can be read as a sequel to 'white girl music'. this is not something i thought i would be writing but once my mom and i watched anyone but you again i had to write something about hockey boys screaming unwritten.

nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

It was late at night and all you wanted to do when you exited your room was to go to the bathroom and return. But, then you heard whispers of your name from down the hallway. When you turned you saw Jack peeking around from one of the doorways, Luke and Trevor’s heads above him. You raised an eyebrow, “Yes boys?”

“Come make cupcakes with us?” The three of them gave you the best puppy dog eyes that they could muster and you sighed, “It’s almost midnight you three.”

The three of them had always seen you as an older sister figure, sometimes even referring to you as a second mom despite your closeness in age. When Quinn first introduced you to not only his brothers but Trevor as well, you were shy. You didn’t really talk at all and they rarely ever saw you without Quinn by your side. But as the years went on, you became more like yourself around the boys, laughing at the worst times, and making random jokes. They quickly “adopted” you into their little family.

Which is why you always find yourself in the most unpredicted circumstances with them. Usually, it was playing a prank on your boyfriend or going on late-night drives to get them food or even just going shopping with them and fooling around in the stores with them. Tonight seemed to be no exception.

“Please please please please please.”

“Fine.”

They cheered but were quickly silenced by the look on your face, “But be quiet. Quinn’s sleeping.”

They grumbled a bit, yet made their way as silently as possible to the kitchen to start collecting the ingredients they needed. You maneuvered around the kitchen, preheating the oven and finding the cupcake tins. You caught the tail end of Trevor’s mischievous look and sighed, “What are you doing?”

He only ignored you and started playing music on his phone and once California Girls came on, you knew it only had to have been the white girl playlist that they had found a couple of months ago. You playfully rolled your eyes, “Just keep it down, Trevor.”

“Yes, mom.”

Halfway through making the cupcakes, you heard the boys start to sing along with the current song that was on, Call Me Maybe. Then you saw them start to do the dance from the Harvard Baseball team video. You shook your head but couldn’t help yourself when she started to sing along a little too. You were still relatively quiet, not wanting to wake Quinn up from the noise. The boys, however, only took this as an invitation to start to sing louder.

As the next song started to play, you warned them once again to lower their voices. But, even you couldn’t stop yourself from singing Love You Like A Love Song a little bit louder. You started to feel more comfortable and awake and started to dance around with the boys, the bowl and whisk still in your hands as you moved across the floor.

They all started laughing after a small thing of batter flew off the whisk and landed on Jack’s shirt. Jack pouted a little, sad his shirt had gotten a little dirty, but then shrugged and lifted his shirt to eat the batter off of it and continued singing like nothing had happened. He proceeded to grab the other whisk that was in the kitchen and used it as a fake microphone to sing into.

Unwritten started playing and they shared looks before practically yelling out the lyrics. The cupcakes were long forgotten as everything sat on the counter and the four were each holding something different to use as a microphone - Jack the whisk, Trevor a rolling pin, Luke a wooden spoon, and you a spatula. Once the music started to become louder and more upbeat, they were full on screaming.

Meanwhile, Quinn tossed and turned in his bed, hearing faint chatter, and just assumed that his brothers were playing Mario Kart a little too late again. He laid face down on the bed as he reached his right arm out to wrap around your waist but frowned when all he felt was a small pile of bed sheets instead. That’s when he heard the voices getting louder, mumbling curses to himself as he got out of bed.

He rubbed his eyes as he made his way down the stairs, each step closer to the kitchen. Once he turned the corner after the stairs he immediately flinched at the noise, “FEEL THE RAIN ON YOUR SKIN!”

His eyes widened and he walked into the kitchen, trying to comprehend the scene in front of him. Jack was dancing on the island and the three of you danced around it, still singing your hearts out. When the song ended he cleared his throat and all four heads snapped to him. Your eyes softened and immediately started apologizing, “I am so so so sorry baby. I was just going to the bathroom and then they asked if I wanted to make cupcakes and they used the puppy dog eyes so I couldn’t really say no. I tried to get them to be quiet but Trevor put on the playlist and well…”

He smiled a little, happy that you were getting along with his brothers and Trevor, “I’m glad you’re…” He trailed off, “having fun, but it is almost 1:30 in the morning and the closest thing I see to a cupcake is the batter in the bowl.”

You blushed and looked down at your hands as the boys groaned, “I forgot about the cupcakes.”

In truth though, they weren’t that mad. They were able to persuade you to hang out with them and were able to spend an hour and a half listening to music and dancing around the kitchen with you. Sure it was a little late, but it was fine in hindsight, they had nothing to do and plenty of time to fix their sleep schedule before the season started.

Quinn eyed the three, “Alright, the two of us are going to bed and you can either finish making the cupcakes or clean up.”

They groaned once again, “We won’t be able to do it without her.”

“You were barely able to do it with her, no offense baby.” He kissed your temple as he brought you into his arms, your back flush with his chest.

You giggled at his response and watched as the boys slowly got to work, not sure if they were trying to clean up or finish making them. Quinn then pulled you up to your guys’ bedroom, flopping down on the bed. You followed suit, curling up next to him, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s okay, I’ll live. But I am never letting you live this down.”

“That’s okay, I still remember the time I came home from work and you, Jack, and Luke were listening to Selena Gomez.”

He threw his head back and laughed, “Of course you remember. Now go to bed, baby.”

“If we hear smoke alarms soon, I’m blaming you.”

“Why?”

“Because I can.”

⬂ 𝗩𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗼𝘂𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗖𝗮𝗻𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ⬂

please message me if you weren't tagged! | as of june 2, 2024, anyone who hasn't messaged me from the start of my taglist till then has been removed from the taglist

@puckslxt | @ivy-34 | @petite-potato4

#sunny lune writes #nhl #hockey #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #quinn hughes #qh43 #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #jack hughes x platonic!reader #luke hughes x platonic!reader #trevor zegras x platonic!reader #jh86 #lh43 #tz11

214 notes · View notes