#Like I'm sure it's grand but sigh
Text
BUY ME PRESENTS | draco malfoy
summary; draco loves you, and you love him. he just needs a little push to make things official. OR, draco malfoy fighting for his life when he realises just how much everyone wants his girl.
word count; 8928
notes; this is based on christmas eve, but I'm posted a couple days later! this fic puts us half way through our slytherin boy holidays! I'm not sure how the one I expected to be the shortest became the longest one so far. like, seriously, I know I keep saying this but wtf? why can't I write a short fic?
Dinner had already been served by the time you made it to the Grand Hall, the smells of roasted meats and seasoned potatoes filling the air, your mouth watering as you navigated between the throngs of people. Your seat had been saved, of course. A spot on the bench between Draco and Daphne, and as you neared, your friends noticed, smiles rising and waves in your direction.
Sinking into your seat, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the blond boy beside you, his face tipping up to receive it and lips twisting into a smile, attention moving to you as you sat.
“Good day?”
“Better now that it’s over.” You smiled, a chuckle falling from him, and his hand came to rest upon your thigh, squeezing comfortingly while you helped yourself to a plate of whatever food was left. “What are we talking about, what did I miss?”
“Not much. Just Theo telling us all about Christmas in Italy.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, as though you all hadn't heard this exact same speech since that very first Christmas you’d become friends. Most of the group seemed to have simply tuned it out, laughing and nodding at the correct times as they whispered their own conversations.
A swipe of a thumb over your thigh as you finished filling your plate with food, and you shifted your attention to Draco. “So, what are your Christmas plans, Dray?”
Shuffling a little bit closer now that your plate was full, his arm moved to lay across your shoulders instead, letting you snuggle up into his side. “Oh, you know, the usual.”
He smiled, and your world seemed to get a little bit brighter, his lips brushing your hairline as he left a barely-present kiss there.
“Typical Malfoy-family Christmas. I get to do the tour with my parents, visiting every other rich-arsehole couple they know. Christmas Eve party. The pleasure of my father’s annual ‘you’re growing up now, son, it’s time to get serious about the world’ over the dinner table on Christmas Day. Open some presents I don’t want, on a schedule I don’t like.” He sighed, clearly used to it by now, but it didn’t make it sound any less awful.
“Well,” You smile, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Maybe we could write to one another, or even get a little visit in?”
The hope in your voice was evident, and Pansy gave you an encouraging smile across the table. You’d been meaning to ask Draco this question for weeks now, and your last chance had been fast approaching. Since the summer, you and Draco had been hooking up. It was no secret among your friends, or even the students; your affections for one another were hardly contained, but it wasn't official.
You wanted the labels, the security, and the safety of knowing that he was yours and you were his, and nobody else could come between you. You wanted to be introduced to his parents, be his date at events, to have him be proud to call you his girl. But Draco had been hesitant, avoiding every conversation that might inch into the ‘so, what are we?’ territory, keeping a safe distance from any kind of real commitment.
It wasn’t enough for you anymore, not by a long shot, but trying to talk to Draco about it only ended up with him shutting it down, or skilfully diverting the conversation and you were growing tired of his games.
Draco only made a vague noise, neither an agreement nor disagreement, and looked away from you as he picked up his drink to take a sip. “I don’t know… maybe. I can get pretty busy over the holidays, I’d hate to let you down.”
Another skill of his, making it seem like cancelling or delaying or not doing something at all was your idea. He was clearly hoping you’d brush it off, and tell him not to worry about it, but instead, you kept quiet. Not giving him the satisfaction of any easy win, this time.
Pansy caught your eye across the table, shaking her head disapprovingly, and shooting a glare at an oblivious Draco. She had been your confidant these last few months, every update and development in your situationship, she’d been informed of. Every decision, she’d been a part of. She was practically as invested as you were, at this point, and she certainly did not approve of his nonchalant behaviour either.
“Speaking of parties,” Mattheo cut Theo off, clearly having had enough of the annual rehashing of ‘that one Christmas when Theo was eight’ for today, and changing the subject, “Who’s got their dates sorted for the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, and who’s daring to go solo and have Narcissa set them up like a matchmaker all night long?”
Chuckles rang out among the group, and Pansy smiled, leaning into Blaise’s side with a love-struck grin. “I think we’re safe this year.”
“I’m going solo, but, I did tell Aunty Cissa that I have my eye on a girl in one of my classes, and I’m seeing how it plays out. So, she’s not setting me up anytime soon, since she believes I’m already onto someone.” Enzo smirked, and Blaise congratulated him for his clever tactics.
You smirked through your mouthful of food, listening to Mattheo explain his complex excuse, to Reggie mournfully spill the story of how he’s already been set up by his parents witha ‘potential bride to meet’, and how he hopes she doesn’t show up. You laugh with the others as Tom simply raises an eyebrow, knowing that even Narcissa doesn’t attempt to set him up anymore, lest he scare away any more of her friends’ daughters. Theo, ever the player he is, is looking forward to dancing with every single lady he can find, and taking his pick at the end of the night.
“I suppose nobody needs to ask Draco who his date will be.” Mattheo grins, wiggling his brows at the pair of you as you smile, leaning a little further into the man at your side.
“Hey, who knows?” He chortles, and your eyes narrow a little, “I’ve had plenty of offers. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Oooh.” Enzo’s eyes went wide, the other boys joining in, and Pansy fixed him with a glare. Daphne leaned around you with her jaw dropped at his statement, and you sat up from his embrace, lips pressed flat and a brow raised.
The boys snickered, ‘he’s in shit’ and ‘someone’s in the doghouse’, but he lived for the spotlight, a drama queen at heart, and he smirked down at you.
“Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that, babe.” The playful nickname was one he only ever used when joking around. When he was sincere, he was much more romantic; darling, sweetheart, beautiful. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi mum, hello father, meet the girl I’m skipping class to shag! Thanks for paying my tuition!’, I don’t think so.”
The boys all laughed, Daphne scoffed in sync with her sister behind you, and Pansy looked like she’d lunge across the table at any moment, if it wasn’t for her chastising Blaise for laughing, instead. ‘You and Draco can share that couch you’ll both be sleeping on tonight’, she’d said. ‘See how funny you think it is then’.
The words stung as he spoke them, dismantling your relationship down to the bare minimum; to sex and physical connection and nothing else. Like the nights spent talking until the sun came up were nothing, the times you’d held him while he cried, or washed him in the bath when he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. Like he didn’t rub your stomach for hours every month when you got cramps, or had a stash of your favourite snacks in his bedside table for whenever you came over.
You knew that Draco Malfoy lived you, just as much as you loved him. It was evident in everything he did, every kiss and every word. But, he needed a little push.
“I suppose you’re right,” You sigh lightly, giggling along with the laughing boys around the table. “I’m not so sure Lucius wouldn't burst a blood vessel then and there.”
“Exactly.” Draco hummed, and you glanced back to Pansy. She was shocked, only for a second, before taking in the subtle signs of mischief on your face. Her own smirk stretched out in return, and her gaze flickered once to Draco, before back to you.
A new game was afoot, and Draco wasn’t going to stand a chance.
Slipping your coat from your shoulders, the annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball was well underway. Your parents had disappeared into the crowds before you’d even stepped out of the carriage, uncaring of where you were as long as you weren’t causing trouble. They were here to mingle with the other importants, and you were just here to learn the ropes of proper socialising.
The garment was taken from you, your small bag clutched in hand as a ticket was given to you for it, and you brushed down the front of your dress delicately. Pearls moved under your touch, beading along the bodice flat and perfected, and you felt your confidence rise as you looked at yourself once more in the reflection of a dark window. Adjusting the small lace gloves on each hand, you took a step towards the dining room.
Elegant music was playing from a live band up on a stage, the room was decorated this year to look like a winter escape. Pale and frosty, like a palace of ice, twinkling lights and glittering decor, crisp white tablecloths and ice sculptures. A layer of goosebumps travelled along your skin at the sight of it all, despite the warming charms that took place for the guests.
Scanning the room, you quickly found your table. The designated kids table, despite you all being legal adults and far beyond such status. You’d all be the babies of the ball until the new generation emerged, no doubt. Moving through the bodies and crowds of people politely, Theo was the first to glance up and spot you, his mouth falling open, and a rush of confidence took over as he raised two fingers to his lips and whistled.
The sound caught the attention of the others’ chatter fading to quiet as they all turned to look for the object of his cat-calling, Enzo’s eyes widened, Pansy cheered loudly, and even Mattheo looked momentarily speechless. You’d had the same reaction when you’d seen yourself in the dress too, your stylist had truly outdone herself for this one.
You looked flawless, and you looked expensive, and utterly elegant. Doing a little spin as you approached, a smile broke free on your lips as you stopped before the chair with your name card before it.
“Merlin, babe,” Pansy started, drawing your attention straight her her, “You’ve got every eye on you tonight. If I was single, I’d be all over you.”
She winked when you laughed, and Blaise rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately.
“Pretty necklace,” She commented, and your fingers rose to the pretty string of pearls and diamonds that you had.
“It was a gift,” You simply hummed, tugging at your gloves. Glancing at the others, you gave each a polite smile, eyes lingering on Draco as he stared. In any other style, this dress would be scandalous for an event like this. A low neckline, spaghetti straps, no sleeves. Tight and fitted to every curve of your body, and yet the classic designs and vintage nature elevated it to the kind of class Audrey Hepburn would be proud of.
He looked just as good, a dark suit, a fresh white shirt, a champagne-coloured tie that made the colour of his eyes and his hair stand out and your mouth dried out a little. Silver rings adorned his fingers, the Malfoy signet standing out, clenched so tightly around his whiskey glass that his knuckles were almost white.
You’d worn soft, golden makeup effects today, a dusting of glitter along your cheekbones and eyelids, a shade of pink on your cheeks and lips that you knew was his weakness.
“Someone really wanted your attention with that, huh?” Your best friend teased, and your eyes snapped away from Draco, back to her.
“I suppose so,” You muse, hand coming up to touch one of the beads on your ear, “Since they also got me this lovely pair of matching earrings.”
Pansy made a dramatic show of admiring them, and Blaise gave a funny look, glancing at the jewellery, and then back at Draco, who was frowning. Before you could reach for your chair after placing your clutch down, Enzo was shooting to his feet from beside you, tugging out the chair for you.
Draco scoffed as you gave him a thank you, settling into your seat, and he glared at the man beside you. Enzo didn’t flinch, however, smirking at Draco as he spoke;
“What? It’s called being a gentleman, cousin.”
Crossing your leg delicately, you’d hardly even removed your gloves, before a tray was coming down by your side, and a young waiter with a dazzling smile was looking right at you.
“Champagne, ma’am?” Not a planned pawn in your game, but a welcome addition, you smiled sweetly in return.
“Oh, I’d love some. Thank you.” Taking the single glass by the stem, you lifted it from the tray and the man’s smile stretched wider as you sipped the bubbly, holding his eye.
“Of course, miss. If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be at the bar, happy to serve.” His flirting was heavy enough that normally you’d want to roll your eyes, but tonight, you suppressed that urge, playing into it as you bat your lashes.
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you.”
He took the dismissal, staring appreciatively as he walked away, another look over his shoulder to you as you watched him go.
“Stop eye-fucking the help.” Draco snapped, and your focus moved to him slowly, just to find his icy glare on you. He didn’t scare you, though, all that mean bravado, but you knew what was underneath.
“I was doing no such thing.” You tut, placing down your drink. “Don’t be jealous, Dray. You look even better in that suit. If you want compliments, just ask. No need to be mean.”
He seemed rather placated by this, his ego settling down, even if the others did laugh at him.
The conversation seemed to continue around you as you settled in, avoiding Draco’s heated stare and sipping at your champagne. The rush of warming alcohol through your veins settled every dancing nerve, and gave you the calm confidence to do what you had planned. Sitting forwards, just enough, you angled your body so that Draco might have the perfect view over your cleavage as you feigned interest in the chatter around you.
He took the bait, his gaze falling right where you wanted it, the gems of your necklace dangling just over the swell of your breasts, and he licked his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth.
Raising your hands and catching the swinging gem, you toyed with it carefully, letting it run over your fingers. Time melted away as Draco’s gaze flicked between your nimble touch, your lips, and your chest, shuffling in his seat every so often, and gulping at the bubbly in his glass.
He was on his third refill by the time food started to be taken around, and you took pity on him momentarily, sitting back in your chair and angling away from him, ready to receive your first course.
As the starters came around, you turned to thank your waiter, surprised to see it was the same man from the bar who had brought you your champagne. You’d given him little thought since he’d walked away, and you’d never spotted him again, but perhaps that was exactly why he was delivering your food now, as he beamed at you and set down the plate.
Men did love a little attention, after all.
Reaching for the bottle of champagne cooling in the centre of the table, the waiter never looked away from you as he refilled your glass without being asked. Draco finally seemed to notice as he finished adjusting his napkin, gaze narrowing on the man serving you. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He muttered.
You pretended to take no notice, smiling at the man and waving your fingers flirtily as he walked away.
“I’m going to get another drink at the bar,” He announced, leaving without his glass and without asking if anyone else wanted one. You knew where he was truly going, if the lock of his jaw and the stamp in his step were any indication. You doubted you’d be seeing that waiter again.
As you poked at your food, Pansy excused herself too, only a few bites into her meal before she disappeared with a wicked grin and no explanation to anyone. Enzo just chuckled beside you, glancing around the room like he was watching all the cogs of a machine in motion, before turning his gaze on you. “You do look lovely tonight, do you know that?”
“Of course I do. I spent days on end trying on dress after dress to find this.” You sighed, admiring the gorgeous piece of art on your body as you set your cutlery down.
“And is it serving the purpose you need it to?” He teased, voice knowing, and you nodded. Flicking your gaze over the patrons and guests in the room, you searched for Draco, finding him talking politely to one of his mother’s friends at the bar.
“It is, I think.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He whispered, your focus still on the man who truly held your heart, who was making his polite excuse and walking way, back towards you all. His gaze locked on yours, only for a second, before Pansy was calling your name and drawing your focus elsewhere.
When you looked up to her, she was grinning, a man by her side. “This is Elliot, he’s been wanting to meet you for some time. I promised him I’d introduce you both tonight.”
You offered the best smile you could as his cheeks reddened, and Pansy merely patted him on the shoulder, slinking away as you offered your hand to him. “Lovely to meet you, Elliot.”
“You too. As embarrassing as that introduction was, it’s true. I have wanted to meet you for some time.” He had a kind smile and pretty eyes, and he seemed far too nice to be dragged into your game tonight, but he seemed almost like a willing participant, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Draco took his seat, Elliot continued, “Pansy has told me so much about you. You know, if you’re free one day before you go back to that fancy boarding school of yours, I’d love to take you out.”
“Yeah? What have you got in mind?” You smile, twisting a little more to face him, and your encouragement only brightens his expression as Draco’s darkens in your peripheral.
“A night in London, perhaps. We could get dinner, and see the opera?”
“She doesn’t like the opera.” Draco sneered, openly staring at Elliot with enough contempt to scare away lesser men. Elliot tugged at his collar, glancing at Draco, and then back to you as you tried to hide your shock at his behaviour.
“The theatre, then?”
Draco looked ready to snap again, and before he could, you nodded, sparing your unwilling partner. “That sounds wonderful, I’ll see what my schedule says. I’ll get in touch with you through Pansy if I can find the time, is that okay?”
“Perfect.” He smiled, sneaking another wary glance at Draco who was not backing down from glaring at him unflinchingly, but Elliot shook it off, bravely. “It was a pleasure to meet you, truly.”
“And you, Elliot.”
Soon after he left, the plates were being cleared. You tried not to smirk as a different waiter, and one who very pointedly did not so much as even catch your gaze, cleared your dishes away at record speed.
You knew that Draco had something, everything, to do with that. He was jealous by nature, a spoilt single child who did not like to share his favourite toys, and that is exactly what you were betting on tonight.
You stood, taking a lap around the room with Pansy to settle your food before the next course, and to get another drink. She took the opportunity to fill you in on how her first Christmas event with Blaise’s family had gone, and when you returned, you made sure to surreptitiously place yourself behind Draco’s chair.
You placed a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, squeezing and rubbing enough that your thumb swept over his collar and across his neck. His pulse jumped under your touch, and he tipped his head closer, into your touch.
As he did so, your heart leapt in your chest. To others, it might look like a friendly gesture but to you, it meant so much more. You were tempted to cave then and there, to live with this being enough, to settle, but you couldn't. You didn’t want this to be it, you wanted to follow this by leaning down to kiss him, to have him smile against your lips in public the way he did when you were alone.
To arrive at these events together, arms linked, and to stumble out tiredly together too. To sit by him, his hand on your thigh, to rest your head on his shoulder, to kiss him on the dance floor. The thought was enough to push you through.
He twisted his head, to kiss your hand like he often did when you did this. Carefully, you slipped your hand away just in time, knuckles brushing across the nape of his neck as you stepped away, and back to your seat.
His sights moved to you, but like a saving grace, the servers began to appear with more dishes, and dinner soon distracted you all. A delicious serving of salmon and potatoes, and the hall fell quiet enough for you to hear the beautiful music playing when chatter fell low.
Low conversation, drinks refilled, and that perfect mood set across the room, as people took to the tables and quieted down. Your favourite part of the night, usually. Good food, your friends, and a chance to catch up without the usual weight of it all sitting on you. Regulus was talking, telling the rare story that had him caught up in a long conversation where he usually just observed quietly, but your attention was fixed on your lover.
Until, Theo spoke up.
“Oh, merda,” He muttered across Reggie’s’ story, his gaze cutting to you alarmingly quickly. “I forgot to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Your heart skipped a beat, a flash of panic.
“My cousin flew in last minute for the party, and he wants to speak to you.” Theo’s words soothed your panic, and you offered him a flat look for the dramatic way he’d put it. Taking a sip from your glass, you raised a brow.
“When?”
“Now.” He confirmed, sights lifting to sit just behind you, and before you could even turn, a chair was being pulled up beside your own from another table. Turning your head to the owner, a smile burst across your face at the man sitting before you.
“Dario!” Your arms were around his neck before you could stop yourself, and he was chuckling as he bundled you into an equally enthusiastic hug. He chuckled lightly, pulling back only far enough to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, and you cupped his face as you parted from him. “You’re growing a beard!”
“My mother hates it.” He chuckled, rubbing a hand over it. As you twisted a little more towards him, he reached down, practically manhandling you as he reached for the edge of your seat by your legs, tugging it sideways to face him. You squealed as the chair jolted, screeching on the floor, tugging you closer as he leaned in. “Sei incantevole.”
“Are you charming me in Italian?” You smirk, a boyish smile on his face as he lounged back in his seat. “What are you doing here, anyway? Theo said none of you were flying in this year! I thought you couldn't make it.”
“I couldn't,” He sighed, shrugging, “But, then I heard that you would be here, without a date, and I knew I just had to make it. So, here I am, la mia bella donna. You think a short flight from Italy would stop me rushing over here to you?”
Your giggle was against your control. Even if he was more like family than a romantic interest, the way his accent twisted around coyly spoken words, was enough to bring a blush to even the most unreceptive woman’s face. “Cut it out, you flirt.”
“You’ll save me a dance later, right?”
“We’ll see.” He rose his brow, and you lifted your glass, taking a sip of bubbly to hide your smile, leaving him hanging. “Depends on how much more of your cheesy flirting I can endure.”
“You mean my wonderful Italian charm?” He teased, pinching one of your cheeks, and deepening the flush he had already created. “Don’t think I don’t see the way I make you blush.
You could only scoff, mouth dry as you tried to think of a retort, and you didn’t miss Theo muttering in Italian behind you, curse words you’d picked up on tumbling from his mouth.
“Perhaps this can convince you,” Dario reaches for his inner pocket, producing a small, slim box. An excited squeak breaks from you as he hands it over, your fingers brushing the elegant leather, an Italian name embossed across the front. “Open it later, alright?”
You could only nod, admiring it happily, before slipping the box safely inside of your clutch. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he stood. A final wink as he offered you hid charming goodbyes, and a farewell to the rest of the table, before returning his borrowed chair to where he had taken it from.
You watched as your friend left, disappearing into the crowd, no doubt to mingle and socialise as he had always been so good at, before you swung back around in your chair.
“He taught you everything you know, huh, Nott?”
Theo only shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “What can I say, tesoro? We Nott men just have charm. We’ll woo your panties right off.” He winked, the cockiness not lasting long as Draco swung at him, a fist landing roughly on his arm as the Malfoy heir scowled, glaring at his best friend.
“Cut it out.” He growled the words through gritted teeth, and your hand shot up, rubbing at your lip to hide your grin as Draco made no effort to hide his own emotions. Theo only laughed, rubbing at the patch on his arm he’d taken the hit.
Dessert was served, a beautiful display of ice cream and winter berries that almost looked too good to eat. The key word being almost. You hadn't been able to resist, however, and the first small groan you’d let out as the sugar hit your tongue had Draco’s gaze snapping straight to you. I did not leave, once, after.
Instead, he watched, through a dark gaze, every curl of your lips around the spoon, every swipe of your tongue to catch the juice of burst berries. If you’d put on a little extra show, just for him, nobody else had to know.
It was like he was staring right into your soul, so intense, even after the meal was long since finished. Finally, you indulged him once again, turning to look at him and raising a brow. “Yes, Draco?”
“You look beautiful tonight, I am simply admiring.” He let his gaze move across you slowly, making his admiration apparent, and his gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer on your neck. He stared at you with open adoration, the kind of look that told you exactly how he felt, even if he was fighting it, but he was close to breaking. He was close to losing this game he didn’t know he was playing. Then, his gaze flickered over your shoulder, sweet observation morphing. His brows drew together, his open hand slamming down on the table hard enough to make the glass rattle. “Oh, fucking hell…”
Mattheo erupted with sudden laughter, loud and brash, and there was a tap on your shoulder before you could even ask him what had him in such hysterics. A young man you did not know, perhaps a few years younger than you, and glanced around the table to see which of your friends had put this one together. Each seemed to have caught on in their own time, and had a hand in adding to the fun, to watch Draco suffer more, but none of them were laying any claim to this one.
“I’ve been watching you all evening, and you are beautiful.” He smiled, stuttering over his words slightly, and Draco made no shy show of his disdain, rolling his eyes and making a disapproving sound. “I was wondering if you might grant me the pleasure of a dance?”
“She would dance with you,” Enzo interrupted, before you could speak at all, leaning forward toward the edge of your chair from his own, and you could have kissed him in gratitude for saving you. “But, she promised me her first dance. Isn’t that right, love? And I think now is the perfect time. Let’s go.”
Offering you his hand, you took it, letting him sweep you away without a second’s delay, navigating you both to the dance floor and twirling you expertly into his arms. One hand clasped your own, the other sitting at a respectable place on your waist, your own on his shoulder, and he fell into the well-rehearsed steps of a classical ballroom dance he’d been doing since he could walk.
You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding your veins as you looked back to your seat, noticing that the boy had taken Enzo’s rejection well and disappeared, not hanging around and waiting for your return.
“You’re killing him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey,” Enzo smirked, neither of you needing to clarify who you were talking about, as he brought up his cousin.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” He chuckled, spinning you out before pulling you back in, sharp actions that made you dizzy with their accuracy, and you grinned as he brought you tumbling right back into his arms, perfectly. If he’d been trying to win you over, his dancing alone would’ve had you swooning. “You just show up to a fancy event like this, dripping in diamonds and pearls and looking like a million bucks, supposedly single. You mean to tell me you didn’t know that all these rich London boys wouldn't descend on you like vultures?”
“Not my fault I’m single and hot, Enz.”
He just laughed, dipping you a little. “We do struggle, don’t we.” You wove between people, a happy silence falling between you both once again as he guided you over the floor, back and forth, “Are you, though? Single, I mean.”
“That is up to your cousin.”
“Touché.”
You continued to move, until your feet were sore from all the twirling, clinging to Enzo in fits of giggles as he spun and twirled and dipped you more, hands on your waist as he lifted you through the air, making a show of his dancing.
He may have seemed altruistic in his gestures, sweeping in to save you and Draco from your dance with the boy, but he was using you too. Enzo was taking every opportunity to show off his moves to every lady around the room watching, a flirty smile on his face between conversations and he glanced around, and you wouldn't be surprised if he received more offers than Theo or Dario by the end of the night.
As the third song came to an end, and the music fell for just a second, you panted slightly, arm around his neck now, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “Can we take a break?”
“Tired, already? You only gave me three so far.” He smirked at the way your jaw dropped, your face going hot and you knew your cheeks were red. You untangled yourself from his body, barely making it a step away from his laughter before he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side. “Oh, c’mon. I thought the aim was to flirt and make him mad?”
“He’s not even here to listen!”
“I’m practising,” Enzo murmured, steering you towards the bar, and leaning on the wood as he flagged down the bartender. You were quickly served, by a woman who fawned over Enzo as she passed by, and you had to snap your fingers in front of his face to snap his gaze away from her retreating form. “So, how long are you going to make him—”
A tap on Enzo’s shoulder cut him off, and he turned to look, straightening up instantly from his slumped position. As soon as he moved so you could see, your relaxation melted away too, as you found yourself face to face with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy.
“Lorenzo, I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you all evening. I want to ask you about your schoolwork.” The impressively formal and deep voice of Lucius Malfoy settled over your skin like fresh snow, cold but smooth, and you shuddered.
Narcissa only chuckled lightly at her husband’s words, her eyes on you. “You’ve been busy, though. Who is your lovely lady?”
“Uncle Lucius, Aunt Cissa. This is my friend, (Y/n).”
It wasn’t exactly the circumstances you’d wanted to meet them under, but you smiled nonetheless, nerves running wild as you offered your hand to them both, shaking politely just as your parents had taught you.
“Ah, (Y/n). Yes. I make a point of knowing all of Draco’s school friends, but I’m in business with your father, aren’t I?” Something like a small kernel of sweetness was buried in that statement, his interest in his son’s life, even if he tried to hide it behind formalities, but it wasn’t your place to comment.
“Yes, sir. That is correct.”
“They’re very proud of your schoolwork. They were telling me about your latest project. You synthesised a new potion to grow murkweed faster, is that true?”
You were surprised he knew so much, your small project submitted for Herbology was the last thing you’d expected Lucius Malfoy to know of, or take an interest in, and your mouth felt like sandpaper as you tried to form words. “Yes. Yes, sir. That’s right.”
“Interesting.” That calculating gaze scanned over you, analysing you from head to toe, like he could see right through you with a single glance. “That is impressive, for someone of your age. I’d be open to learning more. Are you considering making a future out of your alchemy talents? I have connections that I could contact for you.”
You were speechless, your stomach going wild with butterflies born of both excitement and anxiety. He smirked, a look that would set you on edge if you weren’t sure deep down that this was in your interests, not against them.
“Perhaps we can discuss it more soon, when we next see you. With Enzo?”
Enzo’s arm around your waist shifted, a reassuring weight that you were sure had been your only grounding presence for this surreal conversation. He patted your hip encouragingly. “Oh, no, we aren’t…”
Motioning between you both, Lucius’ brows furrowed, and Narcissa tried to hide her sigh.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Cissa. (Y/n) isn’t mine, though it is wonderful that you approve.” Before either could question him, or expand on their confusion, Enzo gave your waist a final rub, before removing his touch from you entirely, and stepping towards his family. “Shall we go and discuss schoolwork then, Uncle? You have questions, and I have answers. I hope the ones you want.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/l/n).” Lucius politely offered you his hand again, shaking it firmly, and that was about as friendly a dismissal as you’d ever get from him, you’d heard. This was only supported by the surprised look on Narcissa’s face, and the beam Enz gave you as he guided his uncle away.
“I hope to see you again soon, (Y/n). You look wonderful this evening, thank you for coming.” Narcissa murmured, before following her husband and nephew, glancing back at you only once over her shoulder. She knew. The woman was far more cunning than she let on, the true embodiment of a sneaky Slytherin, observing quietly and taking everything in. Her eyes glinted. She knew you knew she knew, too.
Your heart was pounding, cheeks warm as you lifted your fingers to them cautiously. The disappointed waitress placed down two drinks before you, Enzo long gone without his, but you smiled at her with appreciation, fingers shaking a little as you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip.
You’d spoken to Draco’s parents.
They’d liked you. Lucius had offered to put you onto the career path, and Narcissa had complimented your dress. A soft laugh of disbelief slipped free, your eyes sliding closed for just a second as you revelled in the moment.
It hasn’t been what you’d set out for tonight, but it was far more than what you’d hoped for. Opening your eyes again, to head back to the table and find Draco, you were met by the sight of a stranger leaning before you on the bar, grinning down at you in amusement. “Hello.”
“Hi.” You gave a terse smile, and a single nod. “If you’ll excuse me—”
“I didn’t even get to ask you to dance yet. Saw you out on the floor with the Berkshire boy, earlier, and I thought—”
“I’m dancing with her next, mate. Piss off.”
Draco rarely sounded that mad, a chill went down your spine as you felt an arm slide around your waist, tugging you back into his chest. “Dray…”
The stranger only scoffed, glaring at Draco as he wandered away, and your hand reached for his forearm on your body. He snatched it away too soon, however, tugging on your hip to turn you around. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes more frozen than the coldest glacier. “Dance with me.”
Not a request, and he didn’t wait for an answer, before plucking your drink from your hand and slamming it down onto the bar, guiding you back to the swaying bodies. Standing before you, you offered him your hand, your hand sitting lightly on his shoulder. He didn’t take the respectable route, instead, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, sweeping you close to his body, and beginning to move you both in simple steps.
It was several minutes before he relaxed, your arm sliding further around his neck in a more intimate hold, bringing the two of you much closer, swaying slowly. The tension in his body gave way with every step, and with a resigned sigh, he finally spoke, “You met my parents.”
“I did. They were lovely. Very curious about Enzo and I’s relationship.”
His hand clenched on your waist, and you tipped your head at him as his piercing gaze drilled into you. One more move…
“Oh, don’t be so mad, Dray. We’re only shagging, after all. You’ll find a new girl if I get swept away by someone else.”
His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching, and a fire burned in those silver eyes now, melting the ice away with rage. Checkmate.
“You win, alright? I’m not playing this stupid game any longer.” He took a deep breath, and another, fingers twitching on your back as jealousy bubbled under the surface. “For fucks sake, how many pieces of jewellery from other guys are you wearing? Who bought you those earrings, that necklace? I should be the only one buying you gifts. I should be the one spoiling you. You want the Malfoy family ring? I’ll go yank it off my mother’s engagement ring from her finger right now, just take all this off.”
He studied you for a second, confusion growing at the smirk that grew on your lips. Victory was yours, and you leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. Letting the hand from his neck smooth down his chest, his gaze stayed locked on the jewels around your neck, glaring angrily. “No.”
“No?”
“No. It’s pretty. I’m going to keep wearing it all, let it remind you what you have. Next time you piss me off, forget a date, or use the last of my shampoo, I’m going to put it all back on so you can remember how many guys would jump at the chance.” His nostrils flared, but he stayed silent, wisely knowing when to keep his mouth shut. “I don’t want your family ring, Malfoy. Not yet. I just want a proper title, and the respect that comes with it. I’m not your booty call, or your side piece. You don’t want to play games anymore? Then don’t.”
“You already won.” He whispers, his head dropping down to let his forehead rest on your own. “You know how much you mean to me.”
“Yes, I do. But I want the whole world to know it, too, Dray.”
He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he twisted his head, enough to press his mouth to your own, silencing any more arguments between you both as he kissed you. His lips claimed yours, a tender and loving kiss, showing everyone just how much you meant to him. There was no mistaking the emotions within it, not as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him as the pretence of dancing was given up, your hand on the back of his head, fingers in his hair, meeting every push and pull.
When he pulled away, your smile took over, bashful now under his openly adoring gaze, and he stole several more pecks from your lips. A happy sound escaped you as he tugged you in, tucking his face into your neck, and swaying you both to the music.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
“You have, but I’d be open to hearing it again.” Your hand smoothed over his hair, and he chuckled against your skin, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck before raising to meet your eye.
“You are breathtaking, darling. I’m in awe. This colour is my favourite, you know.”
“Why do you think I wore it?”
His fingers trailed down your spine, eyes sparkling even more at that revelation. “How about we get out of here? We’ll make our goodbyes to my parents, and head out.”
“Our goodbyes?” You repeated as he took your hand, lacing your fingers together.
“Yes. From their son and his girlfriend. I think you deserve a proper introduction, after all.”
Tugging you across the floor, he gave you no time to prepare, and certainly, none to disagree, as you smoothed your hair and attempted to control the blush he’d brought to your cheeks. Through the crowds he wove, until he was pulling to a stop just shy of his parents, and Enzo looked as though he could have cried with relief when Lucius’ intense focus was taken away from him. The boy quickly slipped away as both of Draco’s parents turned to face you.
“Miss (Y/l/n), when we said we hoped to see you again soon, I didn’t realise you’d take it quite this literally.” He murmured, voice as low and calm as always, and your lips parted, a different kind of heat flooding your features.
“Oh, behave now, Lucius,” Narcissa grinned, her gaze dropping to your clasped hands, before she reached up to her son’s face, pinching his cheek with a smile. “Draco, darling, I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you Mother, but we’ll be leaving early.” She only gave him a knowing look, ignoring Lucius’ displeased huff, as if she wasn’t surprised at all.
“‘We’?”
“My girlfriend and I.” He said, proud and strong, before tugging you forward a little more to stand in front of him. His hand left your own, circling your waist instead, and she offered him a smile at the news.
“I see.” She smiled, patting her son’s cheek affectionately, before turning that knowing gaze on you. “Now Lorenzo’s evasiveness whenever I asked him about you makes sense.”
“You asked about me?” Your words were a rushed squeak, which only seemed to amuse Narcissa more.
“Of course, dear. I wanted to know more about you. I’d ask you to sit and chat with me for a spell, but I believe my son might combust if I did.”
“Mother!” He gasped, and Lucius only tutted.
“Draco.” His father growled softly, shaking his head, and the red on his son’s cheeks only grew.
“You both may go, for now. But I hope you’ll visit me soon, and we might talk?”
“You mean… just us?” Your words tapered off to a near whisper, and Lucius smirked to himself as Draco rolled his eyes.
“Yes, dear. We’ll have tea.”
You could only nod, bidding your final farewells to them both in a state of awe, before Draco was hurrying you along. Tight hands gripping your waist, lips on your neck as he loved you through the crowds, swiping up your bag and giving you barely a moment to say goodbye to your friends before sweeping you away again. It was only due to the snow falling outside, you were sure, that he allowed you to stop long enough to get your coats.
Helping you, he lifted the garment onto you from behind, kissing your cheek as he reached around your body to fasten it. His elegant coat was already on, and leather gloves were on his hands as he offered you one. Lacing your fingers through his own, he smiled, tugging you out into the freezing night, and ushering you around the side of the Manor, away from the stream of cars lined up for guests as they left.
“Where are we going, Dray?”
“To one of the gardens near the path.” He never turned back, leading you carefully around patches of ice and slippery snow as you moved, the light from the house fading. It was almost pitch black, before he mumbled a small spell, and the garden lights glowed to light, glittering on the fresh blanket of ice.
Sitting on the grass was an old-fashioned sleigh, enchanted to keep dry, even in the snow, and two reindeer sat happily in the snow snuffling at the grass and scattered food.
The landscape stretched out far before you both, trees and grass and walls all covered in snow like something from a Christmas card, and the sigh that left your lips clouded in the air before your face.
“Oh, Draco…” Taking a few steps closer, snow-tipped over the tops of your heels as you stepped off the pathway onto the grass, chilling your feet for only a second, before Draco was following. Scooping you up into his arms, you kicked the ice from your feet with a giggle, your arms looping around his neck. “What’s all this?”
“This is your Christmas present. I didn’t realise that was the kind of ice you wanted instead.” He muttered, eyes flicking down to your neck, as he carried you carefully through the snow and towards the ornate sleigh. As you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he smiled shyly, avoiding your gaze as he became embarrassed, “I wanted to do something romantic for you. We can take the sleigh back to the town, get a cab, and take the jet anywhere you want to go. Pansy already packed a bag for you.”
He placed you down on the edge of the sleigh, letting you shuffle across onto the warmed leather. With another kiss to your lips, he scoffed at your smile.
“Merry Christmas, my wicked little girlfriend.”
“I can’t believe you arranged all this.” You were practically bouncing in your seat, watching as Draco nervously tugged on the reins, prompting the lazy animals to stand back up, before settling into the sleigh himself. Like they knew just what to do, they took off in a slow trot, tugging the pair of you along through the snow.
“Maybe if you’d have waited, instead of making me fight for my life tonight, you’d have been surprised.”
His arm was splayed along the back of the seat, and you snuggled in a little closer to him. Curling his arm around you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shaking his head and burying his nose in your hair. “If I didn’t make you fight for me, Dray, you’d probably have introduced me to your mother as your study partner. I gave you a little push, that’s all.”
“Is that so?” He muttered, guiding your face up so he could peck your lips. “Who do you think helped me arrange all of this for my ‘lovely lady friend’, hm? I’ve been writing to my mother about having an interest in someone for months now. You underestimate me.”
“You never gave me any other indication!”
“Oh, please. You walk me like a damn dog, you knew how I felt.” His mouth closed over your own, stealing a kiss, and you couldn't help but smile into it. “I think tonight just proves it.”
The sleigh trotted on as Draco kissed you in the back, beyond thought and reason, your hands tucked into his coat for warmth as he kept you cuddled in close to his side.
Minutes melted away, the two of you lost in your own world as you jostled and trotted through the fields, back toward the town. Whatever he had planned, it had been in motion for days, and the thought only made you fall a little more in love with him. Perhaps you had underestimated him, but none of it mattered now, not when he was kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, and you had him in your arms, properly, at last.
“So, Pansy knew about your little plan?”
“Yes. I told her days ago.”
“Hm…” You loved her, and it was perhaps her knowledge of Draco’s actions that made this all the funnier. “So, she knew about your plan, and mine. And still, she made sure to introduce guys to me all night. She played us both just for her own amusement.”
As you thought of her, your fingers lifted to your neck, sitting on the delicate jewellery there, and Draco huffed. Looping his finger underneath it, he tugged lightly. “Can you take this off now, please?”
“Why would I do that?” His pout deepened, glaring at the offending item, and you gave in with an airy laugh. “Pansy, Daph and Tori picked it out personally.”
“What?” His head snapped up, pout gone as his jaw dropped, and he was not laughing like you were. “You let me believe another guy decked you out in diamonds all night! What about the matching earrings?”
“Blaise.”
“The bracelet?”
“Theo and the Notts.”
At that mention, his eyes narrowed again, searching for your clutch and finding it resting in your lap. “But Theo’s cousin Mario gave you a separate gift.”
“Dario.” You corrected, and he mimicked it childishly, scoffing afterwards. “Well, that part was real. He truly was flirting, and I have no idea what it is, I haven’t opened it yet.”
“Give it to me.” He reached for your bag, a second too slow as you swiped it away from him with a gasp. He didn’t give up, still trying to snatch it as he leaned over you, pressing you back into the seat through fits of laughter, the two of you fighting over the bag until it was pressed to your chest, your eyes wide as you stared up at him, shaking your head. “Give it to me! I’m chucking it, hand it over!”
“No, it’s mine!” He slumped back into his seat, panting for breath and smoothing his hair back down. He was pointedly staring away in the opposite direction, and when you leaned in closer with a chuckle, he leaned away. Grabbing his shoulder, you planted yourself firmly in his lap, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’m keeping it, but your present is better, I just know it. Whatever it is, could never beat this.”
“Promise?”
“I promise, Dray.”
He gave in, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you in closer to his body and pressing a happy kiss to your cheek. “Fine, but I’m buying you a new necklace when we get off the damn plane. I don’t care who bought that one.”
#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x you#draco malfoy/reader#draco malfoy/you#harry potter#slytherin boys#tom felton#draco malfoy x y/n
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
✎ forever
- gojo satoru x reader
the three times he asked you to marry him
genre:
slightly suggestive, fluff/comfort, silly and lovesick gojo, wedding proposals, mild angst, mentions of injury and protective gojo
note:
i was inspired by some fics with this kind of trope and i can totally see gojo asking you to marry him while he's dead drunk—
a part of gojo's love entries
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
"Why don't we get married?"
The first time Satoru brought this up was right after you both had exhausted yourselves in an intense, passionate lovemaking session.
His bare skin was against yours, and the intimacy of it almost made you want to go along with his suggestion, until you grasped the profound meaning behind his words.
"Satoru," you breathed out, still breathless as you came down from your high. "Are you seriously asking me that now?"
A dopey smile was on his face. "Yeah, is there a problem with it?"
You blinked. The nerve of this clown-head—
"Not even a proper proposal? Or a ring?" you scowled. "Considering your usual flair, this is a rather lackluster attempt at a proposal."
Of course, you weren't a material girl, but considering his big ego and tendency to go overboard, you just had to call him out.
"Hmm? So if there's a grand proposal and I bought you a ring, then you'll say yes?"
There was practically a twinkle in those bright eyes of his now, and you were a bit caught off guard because well, so he is for real?
You’d be lying if you said that the thought of marrying him hadn’t crossed your mind. But to be frank, Gojo Satoru didn't strike you as someone who was interested in anything as cliché as marriage and everything that comes with it.
Which brought you back to this point—you had absolutely no idea what possessed him to bring up this question.
"Hah," you let out a sardonic laugh. "Not that easy. I'll think about it."
When he let out a “Ehhh?”, and started sulking, you were quite sure, and dismissed the question as one of his passing whims.
The second time he posed the question, he was a babbling, slurring mess of alcohol and hiccups.
"Can't we—hic!—" His face was flushed, and he was pitifully wobbling on his feet. "—just get married—hic!—already?"
This time you scoffed, partly out of disdain, crossing your arms in front of you. Satoru seemed to pick up on your unfavorable reaction and attempted to convince you. "I'm being—"
"No," you sternly interrupted, supporting him as he struggled to stay on his feet. You shot an unapologetic look at the other patrons in the bar who were watching you both with disapproving frowns. "Satoru, we're going home."
"I'm—hic!—asking you to marry me!"
"I said no."
"Why?!"
You sighed. "You're dead drunk."
"What will—hic—make you say yes?"
You let out another sigh. It already took a great deal of patience to deal with his immaturity as his girlfriend, and you could only imagine how much more challenging it would be as his wife.
"I'm so heartbroken," he whined, crocodile tears pooling in his eyes as he peered at you like a kicked puppy. "I got rejected twice already... How could you reject me twice?"
You rolled your eyes at his theatrics.
"Marry me."
The third time around, he was neither bringing it up on a whim or drunk, also he wasn't quite asking—his tone was almost pleading.
And you just woke up from your comatose state after a mission gone wrong, still in your bloodied uniform, eyes barely adjusting to the bright room.
Satoru let out a grunt, clasping your fingers in his warm, reassuring grip. It was evident how deeply distressed he was from the furrowed brow and the quiver in his lips as he looked down at you, as well as the gentle way he was stroking your hair.
At this moment, you wanted to cry. The fact that he was so genuinely concerned for you filled you with warmth and emotion.
. . .
He saw it happen right before him—the crimson blood flowing out of your wound like waterfall. He had screamed at you to breathe and not let go of his hand. The moment he felt your head loll back in his arms and you lost your grip on him, he could swear his own heart had stopped too.
He had never been more grateful that you—his best friend, love of his life, the only one he had left—awoke from that horrifying ordeal. Seeing you stained red by your own blood had undoubtedly distorted his point of view, but his desire to marry you, as what he had been suggesting as of late, clearly was not just a mere passing thought.
Because he is acutely aware of how cruel this world is. This damned world has always taken everything that's important to him, and before they can snatch you away too, he will claim you as his first.
"Marry me," he repeated, his voice now sounding more hoarse, not as confident as it had been the first time.
As you gazed into his beautiful eyes, it occurred to your hazy mind that you very nearly died. That you were that close to not seeing him ever again. You had been apprehensive with how he had phrased his proposals so far, and you didn't want your marriage to be a split-second decision forced by some sort of looming omen.
And yet, falling in love with Gojo Satoru had never been the easiest, but you did anyway. He still held onto your hand, patiently awaiting your response—
—but suddenly, like a sharp whiplash effect, what shocked you was that who you saw then wasn't your boyfriend.
But rather, the man with the mantle of the strongest sorcerer alive.
You could lose him just as much as he could lose you. Sooner or later, who knows? His title is both a blessing and a curse. Up until now, it has been a blessing, but who can say when it might suddenly turn into a curse that tears him away from you?
. . .
This time, you didn't snort or doubt his intention. Instead, you smiled, embracing the profound flutter in your chest as you were being proposed.
"Okay," you whispered, voice dry. "Yes… I'll marry you, Satoru."
#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠#gojo satoru x reader#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#jjk x you#gojo x reader#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#gojo x you#gojo#gojo fluff#gojo satoru imagines#jjk fluff#gojo satoru fluff#satoru gojo fluff#jjk gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jutusu kaisen x reader#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo
7K notes
·
View notes
Text
Mattheo's Nurse
my own take on a favorite trope - healing mattheo after one of his many, many fights.
for @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge, the prompt i went off of was 'why do you do this for me? are you sure you're not in love with me?'
1.2k words | suggestive content | minors dni | f!reader implied
Becoming Mattheo Riddle's personal nurse was not part of your grand plan. However, an incidental run-in where you tended to him after a courtyard scuffle led him to recognize you as possibly the only person who would help him with concern devoid of judgment. That's how you fell into a routine of him 'just happening' to appear wherever you were settled, weaponizing his puppy eyes until you eventually agreed to patch up his wounds in order to minimize his visits to the hospital wing.
Mattheo had come to your dorm room tonight, causing you to let out a dramatic sigh, wordlessly directing him to sit on your desk chair while you fetched your ever-expanding collection of first-aid supplies.
As you inspected his marred knuckles with a light touch, he winced from the pain at the pressure points. There was some swelling, discoloration, and a hefty set of cuts all over his one fist. The drying blood along his joints seemed not to be his own.
"Oh, stop that," you chided him over his complaints. "Shouldn't you be used to the ache at this point? Damn masochist, aren't you," you continued, poking fun at Mattheo while casting 'glacius' on the water packs you had gathered just for this reason.
In response to your ribbing, Mattheo playfully bit his inner cheek, his expression shifting from pained to something more suggestive.
"You'd like that, I'm sure," he quipped. His eyes narrowed, trying to persuade yours to meet his as you applied the ice pack to his scratched hand. "You make quite the nurse," he continued, his voice dripping with flirtation. "And quite the sight, too. Seeing your pretty face distracts me from any wounds to my dignity. You think candy stripers are still a thing? Might be easier to tend to me in a shorter skirt," he added while his less injured hand found a comfortable resting spot where your waist met your hip.
"A better patient would stop causing such a distraction," you countered swiftly, deliberately avoiding that very gaze because you knew how quickly you would fold for the magnetism of his deep brown eyes. Yet, your actions defied your attitude as you allowed his hand to remain where it rested, his fingers curling slightly against the fabric of your clothing, which sent a shiver up your spine.
Mattheo smirked, indicating just how much he wanted to acknowledge what you both felt.
"Let me guess. You don't just carry around medical supplies because you want to play doctor," he mused. "I think you're helping me weekly because you're in love with me," he wiggled his brows, confident in his suggestion.
Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, silently conceding to the truth in his words but unwilling to admit it. Instead, you quickly regain your composure, lightly patting his cheek before adopting a more serious expression. "Hush, you're being disorderly. I can't fix you up with all this chatter," you scolded playfully, feigning annoyance.
Mattheo hissed, his eyes scrunching shut, reigniting your helper mode out of fear you had touched another sore spot. The guilt was short-lived, however, when the prick turned his head in both directions to show a bruise forming along the other side of his cheek, not the one you had touched. He just wanted to tease you, prompting you to retaliate with an additional pat out of spite on the uninjured cheek.
"Stop this. Remember, your life is in my hands; don't forget," you quipped snippily.
"Regardless of your consistent threats to my life, every time I come to you for help, I’m choosing to put my trust in you because you have feelings for me. And that's also why you're avoiding looking at me," he countered with a smug attitude, correctly assuming that this would finally get you to lock eyes with him. Which you did; looking right into his eager gaze paired with long lashes of everyone's envy. Even the few curls splayed over his forehead added to the appeal that despite him just coming from another bloody fight, you had to utilize every ounce of willpower to avoid melting at his ability to switch from intimidating to irresistible in an instant.
"Also, as my nurse, I’m surprised you don't know the cure-all to any injury," Mattheo begins again, and you suspect more nonsense is about to spill out.
You couldn't help but scoff. "What would that be?"
"A kiss."
You were utterly undone. "Bloody hell," you muttered, blushing profusely before deciding to indulge him this one time. You wouldn't quite treat him to some lip action, however. So instead of giving in entirely, you placed a small, modest peck on the tip of his nose.
The giddy expression that overcame him was worth it to see, but Mattheo, being himself, couldn't resist being a little greedy and pushing his luck further.
"Oh, on the nose? That only gets me halfway there," he complained with mock concern.
You could only smirk. Mattheo seemed to know better despite all attempts to convince him otherwise, which wasn't surprising given how perceptive he was. That, coupled with your consistent fumbling and his astute observation of your unwavering willingness to help him every time.
Still, you weren't ready. While Mattheo's charm did get him quite far in leaving a lasting impression on you, you also knew that relinquishing yourself to the growing feelings would entangle you with the rest of his troubles, just as he would with yours. For now you'd prefer to let it simmer rather than dive right in. However, it didn't hurt to fantasize about how it would go.
For example, giving into the desire that your entire body ached for, to crawl into his lap and crash your lips against his. You longed to taste the metallic tang lingering from his blood-stained bottom lip that stirred with the scent of his cigarette addiction. You wanted to experience the absolute bliss that the softness of those pillowy lips would guarantee, all the while feigning surprise that this hardened bad boy could have any soft spots at all.
You craved to feel the hands responsible for splitting countless jaws roam your body with an unprecedented level of adoration, letting him fondle every last curve to ensure he learned all of it. You wanted him to discover all of your weak spots and master the art of caressing them in such a way as to elicit endless waves of pleasure every time. You yearned for him to possessively grope your ass, keeping yourself pressed to him as closely as possible while his other hand held the back of your head to draw out your kisses. His touches would solidify you as his, not just as his 'nurse' but in every sense that someone could belong to another.
Snapping yourself from drifting thoughts, you managed to deflect under the guise of needing to retrieve more supplies for an additional small cut you had overlooked. You came back, and despite your hesitancy, you wanted to leave Mattheo with a glimmer of hope.
"Tell you what," you started. "Let your hands heal so they can be of full use, and I'll grant you the other half of that kiss."
"Atta girl. That I can do," he grinned triumphantly.
"Yes, yes, now hold still so I can properly heal you."
#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle smut#mattheo riddle imagine#slytherin#slytherin boys#hogmarch challenge#mattheo riddle fluff#mattheo riddle x you#harry potter fanfic
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
truly madly deeply
cw: fluff, very slight angst, comfort (reader comforting lando), you and lando are fucking in love:'(((
now playing: truly madly deeply by 1d
notes: i love requests inspired by songs pls request more of it🥺 wrote this in 30 minutes at 3am so its a bit short sry:(
requested by anon
______________________________________________
these past few weeks have been incredibly tough on lando, both mentally and physically. you've undoubtedly noticed and have been doing your best to support him while giving him the space he needs. lando may struggle to express his feelings in words, but he's been showing his gratitude in other ways – with small gestures and plenty of physical affection. you've been following his f1 journey closely, never missing a grand prix, and making sure you're by his side through it all. lando has never felt more loved and supported. his favorite moments are those when he can finally rest and spend time with you after a grueling race.
qualifying is tomorrow, and lando seems even more nervous than usual. you know him inside out, recognizing his little habits when he's stressed; without him saying a word, you understand the thoughts racing through his mind. the night has fallen, heightening lando's anxiety as the race draws near. he's been more affectionate than usual today, seeking comfort in your hugs and asking for extra kisses. while you love this closeness, it also concerns you. you're well aware of how hard lando can be on himself, and the thought of what he might be going through tugs at your heart.
you join him on the bed, facing him, the stars casting a soft glow on his tired face, making his eyes sparkle even more when they meet yours. "hey, pretty boy," you whisper gently, your hand tenderly cupping his cheek and stroking it. butterflies flutter in his stomach, and his body relaxes a bit. "hey, love" he whispers back, planting a sweet kiss on the palm of your hand, eliciting a smile from you.
"how are you feeling?" you ask softly, your fingers gently playing with his curls – something you know he adores. with a sigh, lando closes his eyes for a moment before locking onto yours again. he finds immense comfort in your gaze, with the rest of the world fading away each time he gets lost in your eyes.
"i don't know... i'm not feeling great about tomorrow," he admits with a hint of worry in his voice. your heart aches just hearing his concerns. you move closer, your gaze softening, and lando's heartbeat quickens. how can you have such a profound effect on him with just your eyes? it drives him crazy.
"why, baby? you don't have to worry. you're lando norris, after all!" you playfully roll your eyes, and a smile tugs at lando's lips. he takes your hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, and you reciprocate with a warm smile.
"no, but seriously, what's bothering you?" you softly toy with his fingers while giving him your full attention.
"i mean, it's more of a mclaren problem than a 'me' problem," he hesitates for a moment, and you gently caress the back of his hand, encouraging him to open up.
"i don't think i belong there anymore. i don't think i can show my true potential with them." his voice is calmer now, and a sense of relief is evident.
you hum softly, and he finds the courage to continue, still focused on your hands playing together. "should i quit? but what if no one else wants me?" panic creeps into his voice, and you immediately grip his hand firmly, bringing your free hand to his cheek.
"hey, you're one of the best drivers out there. there'll always be a team that wants you. believe me, there'll always be a place for you in f1. you've worked so hard to get here, and you truly deserve it," you reassure lando. he gets lost in your eyes, feeling the depth of your love and honesty. his heart feels like it could burst at any moment.
"but i want to be the best," he pouts, and you chuckle softly, giving him a quick peck on the lips, making him smile. "you're already the best for me," you say with a gentle smile, causing lando's heart and cheeks to warm. he groans playfully, slightly embarrassed by his blushing cheeks, and your smile widens. "you're so cute; i don't think my heart can take it," you playfully whimper, cupping his face and squeezing his cheeks. lando bites his lip to suppress a smile, and the sparks in his eyes intensify. you place multiple kisses on his lips, and lando can't help but chuckle. he puts his hands on yours to pause the kisses and says, "just give me a real kiss already, please," another pout forming on his lips. your smile grows bigger, and you oblige, giving him a gentle kiss.
lando pulls back to look at you, and the warm smile on his face melts your heart. "thank you," he says softly, caressing your hands. you don't really know why he's thanking you to be honest; for the kiss or for the honest words. "you don't have to thank me," you say, placing a quick peck on his lips. "i'll always be here for you, no matter what," another peck, "and i'll always be proud of you," another one, "no matter what, my pretty boy."
lando's heart has never felt this warm. in fact, his entire body feels warm right now, overwhelmed by the love he's receiving. "god, what did i do to deserve you?" he asks with a sweet and calm voice, clearly feeling better. "i'm truly, madly, deeply in love with you."
"i know you did not just quote a one direction song," you both laugh, and lando groans, hiding his face behind your hands, feeling a bit embarrassed. "it's cute," you move your hands to look at him. "i'm truly, madly, deeply in love with you too," you say with a hint of teasing in your voice, but you absolutely mean it. a big smile forms on lando's face, and you run your hands through his hair to pull him into a tender kiss.
lando's heart feels lighter, your sweet words and touch washing away all the negative thoughts for the night. if you have to repeat every single word you said to him tomorrow and the day after – every day, you will do it, again and again. lando knows it, and he has never felt so thankful.
______________________________________________
masterlist
#lando norris x reader#f1 x reader#f1 fluff#f1 imagine#lando norris#lando norris fluff#f1#lando norris angst#f1 angst#f1 drabble#f1 fanfic#ln4 fluff#ln4 imagine#ln4 x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
˖°🦇 ࣪𖤐 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐
: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mention of suicide 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 unprotected sex 𖥔 bodyguard x senator’s daughter 𖥔 porn with plot 𖥔 banter 𖥔 sarcastic mmc x fmc who’s tired of his bs 𖥔 neck kissing 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 praise 𖥔 soft toji 𖥔 biting 𖥔 nipple play 𖥔 toji’s not an ass for the first time 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 dirty talking 𖥔 bathtub sex 𖥔 small pillow talk 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut
: ̗̀➛ words: 5.9k
: ̗̀➛ notes: this is my first one-shot and of course it had to be about my favourite unhinged man. i promise it’s good, y’all. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.
You hated being the senator’s daughter—burdened by the title you never chose. Despite the grandeur that surrounded you, you despised the life you were born into. The opulent dinners, the endless social events, and the constant scrutiny from the public were chains that bound your spirit.
If you had any spirit left to spare.
You yearned for a life of your own, away from the suffocating expectations that came with your father's political stature. You resented the polished façade you had to maintain, the carefully crafted image that hid your true self. The constant presence of the media felt like an unrelenting spotlight, casting darkness over your desire for anonymity.
The large ballroom was ablaze with sparkling lights and the murmur of conversations mingled with the soft strains of a live jazz band. You found herself at the center of attention, a reluctant participant in the grand social affair, unwillingly cornered by a persistent suitor your mother had chosen from the roster. Apparently, his family wealth and business ventures were the most fascinating topics he could think of.
You wore a forced smile and desperately sought a way out of the conversation. Your eyes darted across the room, searching for an escape route.
". . . you see, our corporation has been at the forefront of innovation for decades," the suitor boasted, gesturing expansively with his hands. "We practically built this city. My great-grandfather was a visionary, and my father has expanded our influence globally. I'm destined to take it to even greater heights."
“How wonderful,” you muttered. The suffocating aura of the suitor’s self-importance lingered in the air. Just as he reached out to place a possessive hand on your arm, a deep, graveling voice cut through the conversation.
“Careful,” warned Toji. His eyes, sharp and vigilant, locked onto your suitor’s hand, which froze in mid-air. “Take a step back, and we won’t have a problem.”
The suitor, momentarily taken aback, withdrew his hand with an affected chuckle. "Ah, my apologies. I was only admiring your bracelet. It's exquisite, really."
You shot Toji a glare as you replied, "Thank you for your compliment. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be returning home now. Senatorial matters to attend to, you understand."
His eyes narrowed, and he attempted to regain control of the situation. "But surely, darling, you wouldn't want to miss the grand finale of the evening. There's a surprise performance that my connections secured."
Before you could respond, Toji stepped forward, a stern expression on his face. "The evening is over, Mr. Mahito. She has other obligations to fulfill."
Mr. Mahito, a name you’d forgotten at his ‘hello,’ glared at Toji but wisely chose not to challenge the imposing figure. With a forced smile, he nodded and said, "Of course, I understand. Until next time."
As if.
Toji couldn't help but scoff under his breath, earning a side glance from you. "Does he ever run out of compliments for himself?"
You sighed. "He's harmless, Mr. Zenin. Just trying to impress, that’s all."
"Harmless, maybe, but annoying as fuck."
You eyed Toji with curiosity. "Why the sudden interest in my love life, Mr. Zenin? Jealousy, perhaps?"
He smirked, a rare hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "Jealousy? Princess, I guarantee you, I'm far too professional for such bullshit.”
You shot him a playful glance. "You know, if you were a little less broody and a bit more charming, you might have a chance."
His facade cracked, and a genuine smile played on his lips, that scar stealing your attention again. "Charm has its time and place.” He opened the back door of the limousine and nudged you inside. “I prefer to keep you safe."
Toji was insufferable just as he was tall. Dressed in a compressed black t-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and chiseled torso, he exuded an air of quiet intensity. The long, dark tendrils of his hair poked his half-hooded eyes that always carried a mist of amusement. He was a silent guardian who navigated seamlessly between your shadows and the limelight.
You remember the first day your father had introduced your newly assigned bodyguard. All you could do was ogle the devilishly handsome man and pray your father and his security detail didn’t hear you swallow too hard or sit with your legs clenched together.
You appreciated the fact that he was fantastic at his job. At least in the first couple of months. But after you’d started your fourth year at university, Toji practically glued himself to you.
It was like he was your shadow, and you couldn’t escape. You get it, Dad was a senator, and security is essential, but did they have to assign you the clingiest bodyguard on the planet?
You’d gone on a blind date a few weeks back with yet another pretentious finance head, and Toji had himself stationed on the table adjacent to yours. When your date had stepped out to use the bathroom, Toji leaned over the table, and you remember how his biceps had flexed and that infuriating smirk played at his lips.
"Princess," he drawled, using that irritating nickname he's given you. As if being the daughter of a senator automatically made you royalty. "You should smile more. It might help with those lines forming on your forehead."
You hoped he choked on his own smugness.
But then there were those moments when the loneliness crept in, and the isolation became too much to bear. In those moments, his sarcastic banter was a lifeline, a distraction from the weight of your responsibilities. You found yourself craving the very company you claimed to detest.
You caught him smirking as you glanced in the rearview mirror, and for a moment, you forgot about the suffocating expectations, the political games, and the constant surveillance.
It's just you and Toji.
The soft hum of the elevator filled the air as you and Toji stepped into the sleek, mirrored enclosure leading up to your apartment. You looked like you had just stepped out of a battle with a jungle cat. Your eyes, once vibrant, were now shadowed with fatigue, and your normally impeccable hair fell in disarray around your shoulders.
You sighed, the weariness evident. "I can't believe this day. Non-stop meetings, interviews, endless parties, and galas. I feel like I've been running a marathon in heels."
"Well, at least you made it out in one piece, Princess."
You fired him a tired glare. "Don't call me that. You know I hate it."
"Sure thing, Your Highness," he replied, a teasing edge in his voice.
As the elevator smoothly ascended, your legs wobbled, and you swayed slightly. Without thinking, you reached out for support, your hand landing on Toji’s muscular arm. He felt the sudden weight and turned to look at you, eyebrows raised to the roof.
"Whoa there, easy," he said, his voice softer than before.
You blushed an outlandish shade of red. "I'm sorry. I'm just so exhausted. I didn't mean to—"
Toji cut you with a grin, his tone filled with mock concern. "Princess, if you're going to faint, at least do it gracefully. No need to ruin my reputation as the best bodyguard in town."
You rolled your eyes, but a small smile played on your lips. "I'm not going to faint. Just a moment of weakness. That’s possible for even women like me, you know."
He chuckled. "Well, weak moments can be dangerous, especially in this line of work. You never know who might take advantage."
The elevator pinged, announcing their arrival at your floor. You straightened up, a renewed sense of determination in your eyes. "Thanks for the concern, tough guy, but I'll manage." You punched in the key code of your apartment door, the security light flashing green. "You can head home now. I’ll be fine from here."
"Oh, absolutely, Princess. But you know the drill—protocol and all. Can't leave the precious cargo unattended until it's safely delivered to its destination."
Your patience was wearing thin as you turned and brushed chests with the jester in black. “Mr. Zenin, for the hundredth time, I don't need an escort to my front door. I can handle myself."
Toji chuckled, the sound low and teasing. "Sure, sure. But what if a rogue pigeon attacks you on your way in? Or a gust of wind blows too hard, and you lose your balance? It's a treacherous world out there."
“We are indoors. There’s no rogue pigeons or a windstorm.”
Toji wore his stubbornness alongside his pride. “Just doin’ my job.”
You sighed, realizing arguing with him was futile. "Fine, come in if it makes you feel better, but then you're leaving."
"Sure," he said, holding the door open with a flourish as you entered the sterile, monochromatic apartment. From the high ceilings to the marble flooring, it was all your mother’s idea. For God’s sake, it was your apartment. You wanted earthly tones, Persian rugs, and a cat. A European tabby. You have wanted it since the day you were born because being an only child was like living in a house full of ghosts.
Your heels hit the floor with a muted thud, and your shawl cascaded down in a haphazard swirl as you brushed it off your shoulders. You sunk into the plush armrest of the couch, sighing deeply as you closed your eyes, attempting to shake off the fatigue that clung to you like a second skin. You were beginning to regret the three glasses of champagne to tune out tonight’s event.
"So, I’m guessing you’ve got another glamorous night in the political arena tomorrow, huh?" Toji asked.
You opened your eyes, your gaze meeting his, and managed a weak smile. "You have no idea. Sometimes, I feel like I'm caught in a never-ending dance of smiles and handshakes."
He pushed himself off the doorframe and strolled toward you. "Well, lucky for you, I'm a decent dance partner. Just not sure about my smile and handshake skills."
You wanted to tell him he had a nice smile, that the scar really added a touch of mystery to him—a mystery that kept you on your toes. He also had really large hands that you found yourself staring at during meetings or drives.
You ran a hand through your hair, loosening a few strands that framed your face. Toji’s eyes lingered on you, a subtle appreciation in his stare. Without thinking, he stepped in front of you, his fingers gently tucking the stray hair behind your ear.
"You've got a talent for getting yourself into these messes, Princess," he remarked, his voice low and intimate. His touch lingered, brushing against your cheek and then down to your neck. Unintentionally, his fingers traced the soft skin.
Your breath caught, the unexpected contact sending a shiver down your spine. You met his eyes, finding a silver of vulnerability in his usually cheeky behavior. For a moment, the air crackled with an unspoken tension. Toji, realizing the accidental breach of boundaries, withdrew his hand, mumbling, "Got a bit carried away there."
Your tired eyes softened with a mix of surprise and something else you couldn't quite place. "It's okay, Mr. Zenin. Just . . . let's just chalk it up to exhaustion.”
He straightened up. "Yeah, exhaustion. That's exactly it."
Nodding, you stood from your spot and awkwardly patted his shoulder. “You can see yourself out."
He raised a fascinated brow at the gesture, the scar curling up in a half-smile.
As you made your way upstairs to the bedroom, you couldn't shake the feeling of Toji’s calloused fingertips circling from your ear, knuckles softly brushing your cheekbone and down to your neck. The sensation lingered, sending shivers down your spine.
You entered the bathroom, the cool tiles beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth building within you, turning on your bathtub’s faucet. The running water drowned out your racing thoughts as you undressed. Your fingers traced the curves of your body, and your eyes, filled with self-doubt, studied your reflection in the bathroom mirror. The image staring back at you was proof of years of dieting imposed by your mother's relentless pursuit of the perfect political image.
You sighed, shoulders slumping, yet the boulders of burden settled upon them refused to fall. As you raised your head, you caught a glimpse of someone in the reflection behind you. “What the f—” A chill ran down your spine as you turned around, heart pounding.
There, in the doorway, stood Toji, his green gaze fixed on your face.
“What the hell are you doing here?" you demanded, wrapping your arms protectively around your breasts, hand covering your lower region.
Toji’s eyes softened, his usual sarcasm substituted by concern. "I heard you talking to yourself. Thought you might need some company."
Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "That's not an invitation to barge in!"
“I'm your bodyguard, and part of my job is to make sure you're secure, even if it means guarding you in your own bathroom.”
“I'm perfectly safe in my own bathroom. Besides, you're not my babysitter."
Obviously, he ignored you and took a step closer to the tub, his eyes never leaving yours. He turned off the faucet just as the water was at the perfect level. His hand dipped in the steaming water. “Hot.”
“Oh my god, get out!”
“Get in.”
“What?”
“Get your ass in the tub.”
You rolled your eyes but didn't back down. "I'm not getting into that bathtub with you hovering over me like a hawk."
Toji sighed exasperatedly.
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by a crack in his patience. "What's so urgent that you can't leave me alone for five minutes?"
He hesitated for a moment before smirking. "I want to wash your hair."
"Wash my hair?" you echoed.
"Yeah. I heard it's the latest trend in personal security."
You shouldn’t have chuckled, but you did anyway. Everything about this situation had blown out of proportion, escalated from zero to a million, and put an interesting mark on your otherwise professional relationship with your bodyguard.
Toji extended his hand, a silent invitation. You were at his beck and call in five seconds, lowering your hands from your bare body, and not once did he check you out. However, the tick in his jaw and the subtle flare of his nostrils easily gave him away. You accepted his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours—his touch was firm yet gentle. You gingerly stepped into the embrace of the steaming water, sinking low until it covered your shoulders.
Toji wet your hair before squeezing a handful of shampoo into his palm, his hands strong yet gentle as he began to work the lather into your hair. His fingers moved in rhythmic circles, massaging your scalp with a skill that spoke of experience. The sensation of his touch, combined with the warm water, created a cocoon of comfort. The tension in your shoulders seemed to melt away, replaced by a strange but welcome calm.
"Seriously, though, why are you doing this?” you asked. “Bodyguards aren't typically known for their hairdressing skills."
Toji flashed a wry grin. "Rumor has it that a well-groomed princess is a happy princess. Plus, it's in the fine print of the bodyguard handbook—section 37, subsection B: 'Haircare Duties.'"
“But I’m not a princess.”
“Not to me,” he murmured.
As the water streamed down your back, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the tranquility of his caretaking. "Mr. Zenin," you whispered, your voice a gentle hum, "this is a side of you I never knew existed."
He chuckled softly, continuing to pour water over your hair. "I wear many hats, Princess. Tonight, I'm just Toji."
Your eyes opened, meeting his gaze. “Toji.”
He paused for a moment, his hands still in your hair. The only sound was the rhythmic patter of lingering water droplets leaving the faucet. You could feel the shift in his demeanor, a subtle tenseness that hadn't been there before. It was as if the temperature in the room had dropped a few degrees.
He cleared his throat, a nervous habit you had never noticed before. “First time you’ve said my name.”
Oh.
In a daring move, Toji let his fingers linger on your neck, his touch feather-light. Your breath hitched in your throat, or maybe it was his hand curling around your trachea that stopped it. He leaned down, his nose brushing against yours. If he kissed you now, you would never look at your bathtub as a source of taking your own life again. If he kissed you now, you would never look at him the same again. If he kissed you now, you’d drown in it. It would be the only time you willingly would without coming back up for air at the last minute.
Your hand reached up and cupped the back of his head as a green sign. Toji leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. The world seemed to hold its breath as he lingered there for a moment. Then, with a slow and deliberate motion, he parted your mouth with his tongue, seeking permission, and you welcomed him wholeheartedly.
But as quick as the kiss happened, the quicker he pulled back.
“Fuck.”
Your heart sunk.
Fuck, indeed.
Confusion and hurt flickered across your face as you struggled to comprehend the sudden twist in your actions. You hadn't considered the consequences, the potential risks that a romantic entanglement could pose to both of you. The weight of your privilege and his responsibility pressed heavily on both of your shoulders. "Toji, I thought . . .”
He suddenly stood, and you reached out with your hand, grazing his arm, frightened that he was going to walk away and leave you wallowing alone in your guilt. "Well, well," he drawled, the corners of his mouth lifting in a sardonic smile. Slowly, he tilted your chin up with a gentle touch. "I never thought I'd see the day when the senator's daughter would be so desperate for her bodyguard's attention."
A flush of embarrassment crept up on your cheeks, and you tried to pull away, but Toji’s grip on your chin remained firm.
“Desperation suits you, Princess," he continued, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something you couldn't quite place. "But remember, we're playing with fire here."
"You're one to talk, Mr. Zenin. Who kissed who first?"
His laughter echoed throughout the bathroom. "Touché, sweetheart. Touché."
You lowered your eyes, hugging your knees to your chest. “Whatever. You can leave now.”
“Leave? Not a fucking chance.” Toji’s boisterous laugh made you jump. He started taking off his shirt and tossing it aside. “It’s your turn to wash my hair.”
“W-What?”
He responded by unbuckling his belt and lowering his trousers, leaving him in his boxer briefs. Your hands covered your eyes when he was completely naked and incredibly erect. “What, you’ve never seen a naked man before, Princess?”
“Once,” you mumbled. You weren’t a virgin, a secret only you knew. It was during the first-year of university when you’d hooked up with one of your mother’s best friend’s son. Both your families had high hopes of an engagement, but you were against the idea. Thank goodness for that. He’d lasted about five minutes into the sex before collapsing on top of you. It was a painful disaster.
“You just signed a man’s death wish,” Toji said, settling into the tub with you. The water sloshed around him, cascading over the edges of the tub and creating small puddles on the marble floor.
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” you whisper breathlessly.
"Taking a bath? Now, now, sweetheart. Don’t be mean." He reclined against the tub's porcelain edge, the water clinging to the contours of his muscular frame. “Why are you so far away? Come here.”
Your body defied your intentions as it glided away from the corner, moving towards him. His left leg extended while the right one bent, with the cap of his knee emerging from the water. Your small hand cradled it, guiding you closer until you were seated just inches away from his erection.
Toji splashed water over your face, causing you to yelp in surprise.
“Toji!”
“Eyes up here, sweetheart.” He tilted his head back, accentuating the chiseled contours of his jaw. His chest resonated with laughter. “You’re so pretty when you blush for me.” His large hand slithered to your nape and tugged you forward, claiming your lips in a feverish, powerful kiss, where his teeth pulled your bottom lip and sucked on it. It frustrated you that, once again, he broke away first, leaving you to whimper. “Turn around. On all fours.”
The questions fizzled out on your tongue. “Are you going to . . .”
“Fuck you?” He arched an eyebrow, the damp strands of his hair swaying in sync with the tilt of his head. “Fuck yes.” His lashes lowered, giving his eyes a dangerously dark glint. “Unless you don’t want me—”
“No!” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “No, I never . . . I want you to.”
“To what?”
Oh, he was really a dick. “I . . . want you to fuck . . me.”
He wet his bottom lip. “How do you want me to fuck you, sweet girl?”
Your chest rose and fell in synchrony with the ebb and flow of the situation. “I don’t know. I’ve only had sex once.”
“Baby, there’s a major difference between having sex and being fucked.”
On cue, your legs instinctively clenched in an attempt to find relief. “Are you clean?”
Toji raked his fingers through his hair and made a spinning gesture with his finger. Your body followed the motion, turning away from him and gripping the tub’s edge. “Wanna know a secret, Princess?”
“Uh, sure.”
The heat emanating from his chest pressed against your back. “I got a check-up the day I was assigned to you.” A sentence that visibly made you shudder. Of course, the insufferable bastard had planned this circumstance ahead. “I knew that sooner or later, I’ll have the senator’s daughter naked and needy underneath me. That I’ll have my cock buried deep within the tight walls of her sweet, sweet pussy, as she milks every last bit of my come. That I’ll watch as it drips out her hole and down her soft thighs.” He extended his arm and delicately lifted the drain plug with his fingers, allowing the water to gracefully swirl away from the bathtub. “I jerked off to the thought almost every night.”
“So, you accepted this job just to get a chance to sleep with me?” Your confidence tanked, and your body prepared itself to leave the tub. “Go to hell—”
Toji wrapped his palm around your hair three times, pulling it taut as he drew you back, pressing you firmly against his chest. “I wasn’t finished talking.”
“Let me go!”
“Know what I do when I escort you to your apartment, Princess?” He wasn’t gentle with cuffing his hands around your neck, immediately silencing you. “I wait like a fucking dog outside until you’re asleep. Then, I walk back in, clean up around your kitchen and living room because you’re too tired to do your chores, and after playing your maid, I tuck you into bed. I watch you sleep, even letting you hold onto my hand, until the moon exchanges for the sun. And I’ve been doing this for the past six fucking months.” He jerks your head to the side, his glare cold and cutting. “So, no, Princess, I didn’t accept this damn job to fuck you. This was just a side perk.”
"Oh," was all you could manage to say. The mystery behind the polished kitchen sink, the mugs and dishes neatly stowed away, the meticulously organized closet, and the unexpected peaceful nights of sleep settling within you finally unraveled. The source of your newfound stability, one that encouraged you to gradually wean off your anti-anxiety medication, was none other than your bodyguard who, unbeknownst to you, had been quietly tending to your well-being in the shadows.
Toji's gruff voice murmured near your ear, interrupting your contemplation. "You're mine, not only in body but in soul, sweet girl. No one—absolutely no-fucking-one—gets to lay a finger on you when I'm around. I won't let you out of my sight, not even for a moment."
You nod, curving your cheek and giving him a simple, soft kiss. “Will you wash me afterward?”
“Every time.”
“Will you sleep alongside me?”
“Every night.”
“And day?”
“Every day.”
“You promise?”
Toji didn’t answer, and you didn’t want to push the fantasy any further given your roles.
You’d made up your mind and rested your head back on his shoulder, a smile naturally splaying at your lips. “Don’t hold back, big guy.”
Toji kissed the side of you neck and nudged you forward so you were gripping the tub’s edge once again. His calloused, rough hand ran down your spine and settled on one-half of your ass. “So soft here.” He delivered a forceful slap, firmly grasping the flesh between his nails, stretching your skin taut, then spanking you again and again and again until your pussy was practically salivating for his fingers. “Fuck, you’re so wet already, baby.” He spat on his fingers and slipped through the slit of your soaking pussy, circling your swollen clit in fast motions. “When’s the last time anyone’s fucked this neglected pussy? Made you spread your legs and rubbed your pretty, puffy clit?” You moaned and broke into choppy gasps, pushing your ass closer to his fingers. “Your private tutor didn’t teach you a lesson on patience?”
“Toji, please.”
“Shh. I know, I know.” He mocked your desperation, gathering your hair in his fist. “Let’s see how many fingers my sweet girl can take.” Toji drove in two digits before you could blink, a maniacal chuckle escaping him as he skillfully moved them in and out, savoring the sounds of your pleasure-filled cries. “Yes, baby. Oh, yes. One more, okay?” His ring finger forced itself in, eliciting a groan from both of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He rested his thick fingers inside your warmth for a minute, feeling you clench and suck him in.
“Toji— Too much—”
“Not enough, sweet girl.” He began moving, easily hitting the spot that had your toes curling inwards. “You can take it, baby. I know you can take it.” You proved him by grinding back on his palm. “That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my fingers. Such a good girl.” The squelching sounds crowded the bathroom, your release seeping out of you without you knowing. You cried out as he relentlessly thrusted his digits, gathering your sticky mess on his fingers and bringing it to your lips. “Taste how sweet you are.”
Your mouth covered his slick, white-coated fingers, tongue wrapping around them and suckling them deep towards the recesses of your throat. The sounds of you gagging made him grunt and sink his fingers ever further before pulling them out abruptly, strings of your saliva and release bridging the space in between.
Toji, with a sly grin, licked his fingers clean, shooting a playful wink at your flushed and flustered demeanor. “Delicious.”
Arm around your waist, Toji easily carried you back and turned you around so you were facing him, straddling his sturdy thighs. A rugged exhale escaped his lips, akin to someone who had endured a grueling day of manual labor. With muscles flexed, he extended his arms on either side, creating a protective barrier around the edge of the tub.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, drinking in your figure.
“Thank you.”
“No, baby. You don’t say “thank you” to me if I compliment you. You say “I know,” and move the fuck on.” He rubbed his hand up and down your thigh, cupping the side of your waist. You jumped when he flicked at your stone-hard nipple. “You’re sensitive there, huh?”
You mumbled, “Everywhere.”
“Speak up, sweetheart.”
“Everywhere,” you said with a volume that made him tip his head back and study you through the hooded slit of his eyes. “What you did, with your fingers, it felt good. Really good.”
“I know,” he replied, winking. “Want me to make you feel fucking fantastic, sweet girl?”
You nod, anticipating his next—
“Sit on it,” he said languidly.
“What?”
“Sit on my cock, Princess.”
He truly had a way with his words.
And you had grown accustomed to them.
Rising on your knees, you stumbled forward and aligned yourself on his ramrod erection, white beads of pre-cum leaking from the pink tip. He gripped the base of it, allowing you to sink down on his long, girthy length.
“Shit,” he breathed out, head lulling back.
“You’re—You’re too big.” The words strained out of you as you sought a comfortable position to move in. “Oh, God. Toji, I don’t think—”
He swallows your following words with his lips, cradling your flushed face in his hands. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Get yourself comfortable because, in a minute, I’ll make you forget the word ever existed.”
“Oh, God.”
“Toji, baby. The name’s Toji. Fucking say it.”
“T-Toji . . . ”
He lowered his head and grasped your left breast, fondling it like a stress ball as if his stress levels were beyond the roof. You mewled when he pinched your nipple and stretched it out, heating it between his fingers. His lips latched onto your right breast, cheeks concaving as he sucked hard.
You were a lost cause at that point, watching him nibble the swollen bud between his teeth, giving you that devilish smirk. “Fuck, baby. Your nipple tastes so sweet.” His tongue circled around it, pulling it taught in his mouth. “Maybe I should make you a mother just so I get to taste the milk that’ll leak from them.”
“You’re so dirty,” you whispered, ignoring the sudden film reel of you and Toji and your children gathered around a Christmas tree in an apartment smaller than this, in a life quieter and more private than yours. You needed clinical help.
“I know you’re thinking it.” He released your nipple with a pop and kissed your lips. “Soon, sweetheart.”
Soon?
Toji didn’t allow you to overthink anymore before grappling your ass and raising it high off his cock, until only his tip remained in you. “Hold on tight.”
He pounded you down.
You yelped and stabbed your nails into his shoulders, shouting out, “Fucking hell!” which, obviously, made him burst out laughing, all while ramming you down on his cock, burying himself to the hilt.
“Toji—ah!”
Tears streaked down your cheeks, which he quickly wiped away with his tongue, kissing each eye as if it were your mouth. He thrusted up into you in a staccato rhythm, gripping your nape to keep you steady in place. Your high-pitched whines and empty complaints fueled him to push both of your limits.
“Don’t let this get to your head,” Toji gritted out, a layer of cockiness in his voice, “but I’ve never once fucked anyone in this position.”
Well, that made you feel special, you supposed.
Actually, it made you want to try harder to please him. If you did well tonight, you could try every position in his book. So, you pressed your hands against his pecs and swirled your hips in circles, slowing his thrusts so you could take control. He was fascinated by your body, by your sudden superiority, settling his hands on your waist while you rode him insistently.
“Look at you riding my cock, baby,” Toji muses. “Look at you go. Just like that, come on. I know you can move faster.” He admired the movement of your breasts, the sweat-beads that crystallized on your skin, how your drowsy eyes rolled to the back of your head. You felt his cock twitch uncontrollably within your hot, sticky walls, felt the thick tip of it penetrate the spot that pushed you to the precise of your orgasm.
But your exhaustion caught up to you faster than your climax, causing your body to grow limp and slump against his chest. Toji embraced you, settling one hand on the back of your head and the other on your ass.
“You did well, baby,” he whispered into your hair.
“Don’t lie to me. You didn’t come.”
“Neither did you.”
You nuzzled your nose in the crook of his neck, circling your shaky arm around his strong neck. “I’m close, Toji. I’m almost there. I promise.”
That’s all it took for him to drive back up into you, grunting expletives and praises in your ear—fuck, oh, fuck, ah, fuck, such a good girl, my sweet fucking girl, oh, your pussy is so tight, so pretty, made just for my cock—while holding you flush against his sweaty chest. You kissed his temple and clutched his hair, breathing in the scent of your lavender-honey shampoo and his natural musk. He continuously mumbled, “Come on, baby, come on. Come for me. Come on my cock, sweet girl.”
And you did. With a cry that hitched in your throat, with your nails dragging down his shoulder blades, with his teeth sunk into your neck, with your bodies sweat-struck and panting like wild horses.
Toji drew you back and ran a hand on your cheek, brushing away the damp strands sticking to your cheek. “Good?”
You breathed out through your open mouth, the organ inside your chest hammering to break out. “Fan . . . tastic.”
He smiled warmly, not the arrogant-cocky kind you were used to receiving, and pressed his lips to yours. No tongue, nothing. Just a simple, chaste kiss. “Time to wash up, Princess.”
Switching from the tub to the shower stall, you began to wash Toji’s hair with your lavender-honey shampoo. You anticipated his complaints, but all he did was sit silently on the seat, using a loofa to clean your body. He complimented the curves of your figure, even taking a sneaky nip at your breast, then chuckling at your reaction. Like a gentleman, he dried off your wet body, combed through your wet hair as he blow-dried it, and then it was his turn, but of course, he forced you onto his lap while you did.
“How’d you get this scar?” you asked as you two lay in your bed, naked with your limbs tangled with each other. For the past hour, all you’ve done is trace your finger over his brows, his sharp, pointed nose, and his lips. “You don’t have to tell me—”
“Family. That’s all.”
“Okay,” you whispered, snuggling your face under his jaw and wrapping your arm around his torso as far as you can.
“You’re clingy, aren’t ya’?” he teased, hooking your leg over his hip.
“Was I too out of character for you, Mr. Zenin?”
You felt his smile on your crown accompanied. “You’re not a character, Princess. You’re a real person.” His hug around your sore body tightens as if you’re about to escape any minute. “It’s overwhelming how real you are, Y/N.”
“Did you just call me by name?”
He raised a brow, voice laced with charming sarcasm. “Was I too out of character for you, Y/N?”
Your hand cupped his cheek, stroking the scar by his lip. “You’re perfect, Toji.” You kissed the wound, the middle of his lips, and the tip of his nose for a good measure.
“Stop acting cute and sleep, Princess. You’ve got a tea party in the morning.”
Groaning, you decompress in his hold. “Goodnight, Toji.”
“Night, sweet girl. Dream of me.”
“You, too.”
“Always.”
#jjk x y/n#toji smut#toji x you#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro smut#toji x reader smut#toji fushiguro x reader smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#jjk toji x reader#jjk toji smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#tw smut#tw sex mention#fem reader#jjk fluff#toji fluff#jujutsu toji#fushiguro toji x reader#toji x y/n#toji fushiguro fluff#toji fushiguro x y/n#fushiguro toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#jujutsu kaisen#i didn’t want to write mean toji bc we need more soft toji but i will write mean toji soo#zaraswriting
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
guardian angel [ genshin scenarios ]
summary: overprotectiveness isn't the cutest, but it's endearing to know that your boyfriend has your best interests in mind (aka instances where the boys are (healthily) protective of you).
characters: alhaitham, childe, cyno, diluc, xiao w/ a gn!reader
warnings: implied catcalling/harassment (alhaitham), intimidation (childe), exhaustion (cyno), minor injuries (diluc), threat of hilichurl attack (xiao). no angst endings.
word count: 3.4k
a/n: this one won the poll, so it's first up! hope u enjoy! thanks to @/spiriteddreams reading over alhaitham's part for me beforehand!!!
-- alhaitham --
Alhaitham enjoys sticking to routines. Thus, when you disrupt his routine of meeting him after work in order to walk home together, he is annoyed, but his brain is quick to rationalize it. They are probably just busy with work or they left work early, Alhaitham justifies. However, there is a less rational part of him that gnaws at his sanity, telling him that something is wrong.
He takes his usual path home, making it only a short distance before he feels arms wrap around his waist. Alhaitham stiffens in response to the sudden touch. But, as he looks down and realizes its just you, mouthing words that he can't hear due to the music playing through his headphones, Alhaitham pauses his music. He pushes one of his earpieces off his ear in order to hear you properly and parts his lips to speak, but an unfamiliar voice cuts through your reunion with Alhaitham.
"Look, he didn't even respond to your greeting," a man proclaims far too haughtily and assuming for Alhaitham's liking. "That's not your boyfriend. But it's okay, sweetheart, I can make sure you're not singl-"
Alhaitham doesn't have time for this nonsense. Don't get him wrong -- he has all the time in the world for you and anything you're excited about, but your distressed expression at the man's words has Alhaitham protectively wrapping an arm around you before turning around to face the mystery man obviously provoking you.
"Are you calling my partner a liar?" Alhaitham immediately challenges, narrowed eyes sharpening the intensity of his multicolored glare. Your harasser blinks a few times, slowly coming to a fearful recognition of who Alhaitham is.
"My apologies, Acting Grand Sag-" the man begins.
"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to them."
"I am sorry!" the man cries, but Alhaitham can't quite be bothered to hear the man grovel for forgiveness. Alhaitham looks down at you, deciding to let you make the call.
"Would you prefer for me to handle this or would you rather just go home?" Alhaitham asks you softly, looking at you over his shoulder. "I am content with either option."
"Um," you begin, peering around Alhaitham to glance at the man once more, who seems to be trying not to collapse in fear. "Just... Let's just go home. He won't mess with me again, and I'm hungry."
An affectionate, soft smile appears on Alhaitham's face at your words as he realizes you're just as attached to your little routines with him as he is. Thus, with all the venom he can muster in his expression, he turns back to the nervous man.
"If I see you anywhere around here again, I will ensure that you will be dealt with swiftly," Alhaitham promises, and the man nods before scampering off like a coward. As soon as the man is out of sight, Alhaitham sighs and grabs your hand. The action sends your heart aflutter, due to Alhaitham not frequently initiating public displays of affection.
"Are you alright?" He asks, using a gentle voice you don't hear all too often from him. You nod, and he smiles softly once more before giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "Very well then. If anyone else tries to make trouble for you, let me know and I'll handle it."
"Wow," you breathe teasingly. "Alhaitham willingly taking on extra work?"
Alhaitham sighs, but you notice the way a smirk threatens to flash across his features at your playful words.
"I'd work forever if it meant you'd be happy," Alhaitham says, and you playfully place your free hand over your heart, pretending to swoon.
"I think that's the most romantic thing you've ever said," you say with a giggle, relishing in the way Alhaitham rolls his eyes at your words.
"Let's go home. I have biryani planned for dinner."
"Biryani? I changed my mind -- that's the most romantic thing you've ever said."
You get a rare chuckle out of Alhaitham as he guides you home, walking close to you and protectively holding onto your hand tightly in case any more trouble comes along for the two of you.
-- childe --
"Pardon me for interrupting," a silky voice croons from behind where you and Childe stand. "I was hoping to have a word with our dearest Tartaglia."
Childe's grip on your hand tightens as his playful expression turns steely at the sound of the voice. He gives you a cautious glare, before plastering the fakest smile you've ever seen on his face.
"Give me a moment, babe," he murmurs lowly to you, practically speaking through gritted teeth, before turning to face a man you've never seen before. Of course, arriving at Zapolyarny Palace on the Tsaritsa's request practically demanded that you would meet new people, but few were able to evoke such a strong reaction from Childe like this man was.
The stranger adjusts his silver-framed glasses and smiles sweetly at you.
"Apologies for my rudeness, I do not believe we have met," he says, eerily reminding you of a viper waiting to strike. "I am Pantalone, ninth of the Fatui Harbingers. And you are..?"
You look over at Childe, who glances at you out of the side of his eye. You respond curtly, giving the man just your first name, and he laughs.
"I understand your hesitation to divulge answers, but your relationship with Tartaglia is quite evident already. Any other information I wish to find out about you I can do so with ea-"
"Spit it out, Pantalone. What do you want?" Childe asks, and you wonder if your boyfriend has lost his mind at how rudely he is speaking to his superior. However, Pantalone seems to pay it no mind, finding the conversation all the more amusing.
"My my, you're much more friendly Pulcinella and Capitano than you are with me. How tragic. I simply wished to discuss finances with you. Is that such a crime?"
Tartaglia blinks at him, taking a slight step forward and sheltering part of your frame behind him.
"We can discuss it at the Fatui meeting tomorrow. Considering you're a higher rank than me, you shouldn't require my input," Childe says, and Pantalone laughs once more. It is a dry type of laugh, as if he's never really found anything funny in his life. A conniving smile spreads across Pantalone's face once more.
"I see that you are on the defensive because of the company you currently keep. No worries. We can discuss our matters tomorrow," Pantalone says. He turns around and takes a few steps, before looking over his shoulder at the two of you. Tartaglia's hand moves from holding your own to wrapping protectively around your waist. Your lover straightens his posture, ready for a challenge, but Pantalone simply smiles eerily once more.
"I would be careful about who you show affection with in the Palace," Pantalone warns.
This time, it is your lover's turn to grin widely at his opponent across the hall.
"That's alright. I can fight," Tartaglia promises with an edge to his voice that you rarely hear. Pantalone's expression warps indecipherably at Childe's words. The ninth Harbinger shakes his head before turning and walking away, leaving you and Childe alone in the hall once more.
With his arm still on your waist, Childe leans over and presses a quick kiss to your forehead and smiles down at you.
"If any other Harbingers try to intimidate you, let me know and I'll handle it."
You stare at your lover, narrowing your eyes. "How would you handle it?"
Childe laughs softly. "I wouldn't want to ruin your stellar image of me, would I? Now, c'mon, let's go. This place is eerie."
-- cyno --
"You need to rest."
Your boyfriend's figure looms over your own tired one, multiplying the amount of relieving shade that covers your body. Despite Cyno's order for rest, your pride gets the best of you as you dismissively swat a hand through the air.
"I'm fine," you insist.
"You can barely walk. When was the last time you were even in the desert?"
"Is this a setup for a punchline?" You ask. Your voice almost sounds like a croak, straining from a lack of water. Cyno is quick to respond, pulling his own canteen off his belt and handing it over to you.
"No. It's me caring about you, that's what it is," Cyno crouches down to meet you at eye level. "Drink."
"This is your water. You need it. I'm not drinking it," you say stubbornly and Cyno sighs before pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
"I know the desert well enough to know how to ration my water. I also know it well enough to tell you when to rest and when to drink. Go ahead. I'll be fine."
You narrow your eyes at him, not moving the canteen to your lips. Cyno sighs before plopping down in the shade-cooled sand next to you. In the distance, you watch waves of heat warp the sand dunes on the horizon, and you wonder if you're in over your head. You'll never admit that though. The last thing you wanted was to slow down Cyno on your trip to the desert, but here you are, struggling to bear the heat.
Cyno sits with you in silence for a moment, before splitting the quiet with another question.
"People often say my humor is dry," Cyno says plainly. "But I think it's only dry when it's in the desert."
A small giggle escapes your lips at the awful pun, and Cyno smiles slightly. Cyno looks over at you. He pointedly looks at the canteen in your hands before flickering his piercing gaze up to you. Despite his best attempt, Cyno can't bring himself to stare at you with the same intimidating gaze he uses for criminals. When he clears his throat to speak once more, you interrupt him by lifting the water to your lips, taking a few sips before handing it back to him.
"I can carry you until we reach an oasis. There should be one not too far away, if we're lucky," Cyno offers, and you giggle at his offer. At your laughter, Cyno raises an eyebrow questioningly. You lean forward, hugging your knees close to your chest and smiling at him.
"What's so funny?" Cyno says, and you beam at him.
"Nothing. You're just cute when you're worried about me."
Cyno's eyes widen, before he decides to study the sand instead of your eyes. You watch as his fingers twitch slightly in the sand as he thinks of the words to say.
"'Cute' isn't exactly how most people describe me," Cyno mutters. In your heat-addled haze, you only grin wider at him before closing his canteen and handing it back to him, drawing his attention once more.
"Well, you're cute to me, even if others can't see it," you say. Despite the warmth of your body, you still reach out to grab his hand, lacing your fingers through his.
"Can we rest for a bit here?" You ask sheepishly. "I'm a bit worried I won't be able to walk far if we get up now."
Cyno nods at your words. "Of course. The last thing I want is to overwork yourself. It's okay if we work at different paces - I'll wait for you as long as you need."
Your heart melts at his honest words, so you scoot over to him before laying down in the sand, holding out your arm for him to rest with you. However, he shakes his head, electing to hold your hand instead.
"I'll watch over you while you sleep. Right now, it's my duty to keep you safe."
-- diluc --
"It's just a scratch, 'Luc," you say to the broad-shouldered man currently fretting over your injuries. "I'll be fine, I just need a bandage."
Diluc glares at you with as much vitriol as he can muster towards you -- which isn't much. You're unsure if this type of glare from him would even scare one of the bunnies on the Dawn Winery grasses outside. It certainly isn't the same glare he uses for handling criminals and members of the Abyss. Despite Diluc's efforts to seem intimidating, he's never been able to be mean or intimidating towards you. Thus, you giggle at his expression and his brows furrow.
"This is serious, love. You can't keep going out there and getting injured," Diluc grumbles. "Come on, sit on the bathroom counter."
"One of the maids could've helped me, y'know," you say teasingly before hopping up and resting on the cool marble basin, watching as Diluc's cheeks flush with a faint shade of red. "But you're way cuter."
"Stop trying to distract me," Diluc mutters, voice plagued by his easily flustered state.
"Is it working?" You ask, and your lover falls silent. The color of his cheeks synchronizes with his hair as he furrows his brow, focusing on cleaning up the scraped skin on your arm with a clean cloth. You smile softly at him as he works, unaware of your affectionate gaze towards him.
"How did this happen?" Diluc asks after a few moments of silence. His voice warbles slightly, and it takes everything in you not to pull him in for a hug -- it would only upset your injury, which would upset Diluc further in turn. Guilt washes over you at the sadness in his voice, and you use your uninjured arm to lean forward and ruffle his hair affectionately.
"I just tripped on a branch while out trying to collect some berries. Don't worry, it wasn't anything bad, sweetheart. I promise."
Diluc swallows heavily before nodding. Both of you know why seeing you injured affects him so much, but neither of you dare speak of the causation. Instead, you move your free hand from his hair to his cheek, heart melting at the way his face instinctively leans into it. Diluc reaches behind you to pick up the roll of bandages that one of the maids provided.
"Tell me if this hurts, alright? It should be taut, but it should not hurt," Diluc murmurs, voice deep as he begins to wrap the bandages starting at your wrist. You hum in acknowledgement, but Diluc is far too gentle to cause you any pain. He wraps the bandage up perfectly, staring at his handiwork with narrowed eyes before looking up at you.
"It's perfect," you applaud him and, for the first time since you've shown up injured, Diluc smiles softly at you. "You did wonderful. I feel better already."
"If it causes you any issues, please let me know." He says hurriedly, and you sigh, causing him to look at confusion. You smile wearily at him.
"C'mere," you urge, moving your hand from his cheek towards his tie. Loosely, you grip the knot of the fabric, urging his face towards yours. Your lips meet Diluc's in a loving kiss. You can tell he's caught off guard by it as you hear the hasty slap of his hand against the marble counter behind you as he regains his balance, leaning further into the kiss. Diluc's other hand reaches forward to curl around your cheek and jaw, calloused fingertips delicately gliding against your skin like a restorationist carefully brushing a piece of fine art.
Diluc is a man of quiet intensity, preferring to show his devotion to you through actions rather than words. As he kisses you in this moment, the reverent movement of his lips tells you over and over how much he adores you. The worried tension eases out of his shoulders as he melts into you, parting only when the two of you need to catch your breath. You use this opportunity to press your forehead to Diluc's, staring at him in the eyes.
"'Luc, I'm not going anywhere." You reach up and cradle his hand closer to your face. "I promise."
Diluc's thumb brushes gently back and forth on your cheekbone as he mulls over words to say.
"I know," he sighs, before sounding more firm in his words. "I know. I trust you. I love you."
-- xiao --
You've never been happier to have your boyfriend accompany you on an expedition. Adventurer's Guild commissions were at an all-time high, but danger was also at an unprecedented level. For reasons still unknown to the Guild, Treasurer Hoarder activity was at an unusual high, which made transporting goods and completing commissions that much more difficult.
Plus, it wasn't that often that you got to see Xiao. Warmer months are approaching, which means monster activity will increase, along with the need for commissions. Sure, the two of you would still meet at Wangshu Inn, but your relationship with the adeptus is still rather unconventional. After all, you knew from the start that Xiao wasn't the type of guy who would take you to fancy dinners at Xinyue Kiosk.
Rather, the two of you were perfectly content with eating dinner together on the Wangshu Inn balcony whenever the weather was nice and your schedules coincided. 'Dates' were a foreign concept to Xiao, and you didn't want to urge him out of his comfort zone by surrounding him with other humans. Thus, you found enjoyment in the fact that Xiao was willing to help you with this commission -- it was a more unique date for the two of you.
Yet, as the two of you head north to Qingce Village on a trodden dirt path, Xiao is quick to wrap his arms around you, pinning your hands to your sides and clutching you close.
"Xi-" you begin, but you're cut off by the stomach-whirling sensation of teleporting away. The two of you touch the ground almost instantaneously, but you're left reeling and dazed, not used to the feeling of teleportation. The two of you are now stationed in a cave, and you have no clue how far you've gone.
"What? Aren't you not supposed to teleport me like that?" You breathe, mind still spinning with confusion and disorientation, but Xiao silences you with a finger to his lips. With a single swipe of his hand, his mask reappears on his face, and he's quick to summon his spear.
"Wait here."
You watch, dumbfounded, as your lover teleports away, leaving you alone. Xiao wasn't the type to leave you stranded without good reason, so you sigh and make yourself comfortable on the stone ground of the cave, waiting for him to return.
Minutes later, the yaksha returns. The tip of his spear is stained with something, but you figure it's probably better if you don't pay too much attention to that.
"You are bad at watching the surroundings," Xiao says, looking down at you before wiping his mask away. You look up at him, blinking slowly.
"Wow, thanks," you say sardonically, and Xiao tilts his head, not fully used to human sarcasm.
"There were hilichurls following us," Xiao says, sitting down besides you on the cave floor. "They unsheathed an arrow, so I teleported us away."
"Oh," you say as a devious thought pops into your mind. "Thanks, sweetheart."
At the usage of a pet name, Xiao's face turns scarlet and he looks away from you, flustered. Deciding to make it even worse, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, leaning into him and resting your head on his shoulder.
"What would I ever do without my dashing protector to save me? How may I ever repay my loyal knight?" You giggle while Xiao's eyes widen at your playfully romantic words. "You swept me and my heart off my feet with your heroic ac-"
"Enough." Xiao says, but it comes out less as a firm demand and rather as a sheepish choke of words. "Please."
You giggle once more, memorizing the way the red on his face complements the green in his hair, before leaning in to place a quick kiss on his cheek.
"Thanks for looking out for me, Xiao," you say, teasing tone leaving your voice. Xiao raises his hand to rest on one of the arms you have wrapped around his shoulder, and you feel your heart swell at the rare initiation of physical contact.
"I will always be there when you need me," Xiao vows, and you realize just how far your relationship with the adeptus has come. While he still blushes at your words, he no longer admonishes you for playful romantics and flirty remarks. Instead, he embarrassedly embraces them, while holding you close.
"Good thing I always need you then, huh?" you murmur softly, as if whispering a secret amidst a crowd. The two of you sit alone in the cave for a while longer, and you realize you wouldn't mind spending forever like this, as long as Xiao was by your side, with his eyes fluttered closed in contentment.
#genshin impact x reader#diluc x reader#alhaitham x reader#xiao x reader#cyno x reader#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#genshin fluff#genshin impact fluff#genshin x reader#diluc fluff#alhaitham fluff#xiao fluff#cyno fluff#childe fluff#tartaglia fluff#axia.writing#writing.alhaitham#writing.diluc#writing.childe#writing.cyno#writing.xiao
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
Firsts II
Pernille Harder x Hardersson!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: Your first words
"Aren't you all giggly and happy today?" Pernille coos as she comes to wake you up that morning.
You're sitting upright, blabbing at your swan and moose from where they're both lying on the floor. You can see them through the bars of your crib but you get distracted once Pernille walks in.
"Oh, come here."
She lifts you up and into her arms, where you go limp and start pulling at her shirt.
You aimlessly feel the fabric before you're deposited on the ground to play while Pernille makes breakfast. You're most calm in the mornings when you're still slightly sleepy.
You just sit amongst the pillows in the corner and poke and prod at the little toys scattered around you.
"Mmm," You hum as you roll up onto your knees and start crawling.
You've gotten very good at it, fast too, so you make your grand escape from solitary to set yourself underfoot of Pernille.
She looks down at you as you use her leg to stabilise yourself to stand. You seem content to just stand there, staring up at her as she makes breakfast while shovelling spoonful after spoonful of yoghurt into your mouth.
You smack your lips together a few times and hum," Mmm."
"Mmm," Pernille says back, nodding as she cleans off your face and gets you ready for the day.
It's with practiced ease that she brushes your hair and gets you dressed in your usual Harder jersey and some trousers. It's a bit harder to get your socks and shoes on because you have a habit of pulling them off when she's not watching.
But Pernille's used to the routine and so are you because you're in the car and at the training grounds before you could even blink.
"Morning," Alex says as she automatically takes you from Pernille.
"She's my baby, you know," Pernille says," You can't keep stealing her."
"She likes being stolen," Alex replies, swaying back and forth as you look around and suck on your fingers," I'm just making sure you're raising a Wolfsburg fan. I can't have you and Magda corrupting her or anything."
Pernille rolls her eyes. "Well, if you're stealing my child at least give her a ball or something to keep her occupied or she'll disappear before you notice."
"This little angel? No way, she loves staying with me."
"Mmm," You grunt, kicking out your legs until one of your shoes falls off.
Pernille sighs. "And if you put her down, make sure she's wearing her shoes."
Pernille doesn't see you a lot throughout the day. You're passed between player to player as they all train and coexist around each other.
You're returned to her for lunch by Ewa and then picked up by her for afternoon training.
"You not feeling sleepy, princesse?" Pernille asks when she checks the rear-view mirror to see you wide awake. Car rides almost always put you to the sleep, even if it was only a short trip back home from training.
"Mmm," You say, smacking your lips together when you notice you're being addressed.
"Mmm," Pernille repeats back to you, pulling up at the apartment, "That's nice."
"Mmm," You say again and Pernille smiles.
"Really? That's so interesting."
"Mmm...Mmm...Momma."
"Wow. That's pretty cool."
Pernille freeze suddenly when it finally registers what you've said. She whips her head around to look at you in the backseat.
You're still staring at her, unblinking.
"What?" A smile splits her face open. "Say that again, princesse. Momma."
"Mmm."
"That's it." Pernille moves into the backseat with you, taking your little hand in her own. "Come on. Mmm is for?"
"Mmm."
"Mmm for?"
"Mmm...Momma."
"That's right. Mmm for Momma."
Pernille unclips you and brings you in to rest against her chest. She's not entirely sure what else she can say. You've been making little noises like that for weeks now but this is the first time it's intelligible.
You know who she is, outside of her role as your caregiver.
She's Momma and you know that.
You don't seem to understand the momentous milestone you've just hit but Pernille does and she just sits in the car with you, holding you tight against her as she tries to reconcile this version of you with the absolutely tiny baby she brought home.
You couldn't even hold your head up, let alone make words like you're doing now.
"M for Momma," Pernille says as she smiles down at you," That's right. That's me."
#woso x reader#hardersson x reader#pernille harder x reader#pernille harder#woso community#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso#The Big Adventures Universe
563 notes
·
View notes
Text
switching the positions
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)
warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food
word count: 16.2k
moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡
a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!
SUNDAY
"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."
“She’s gonna hate me.”
“She’s not gonna hate you.”
Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away.
Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.
“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.
“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.
“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?”
He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.
“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”
Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—
“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it.
“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?”
You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.
“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”
He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.
“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.”
So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.
MONDAY
"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."
It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.
You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays.
Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.
Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—
And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets.
It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief.
“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.
His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.
You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.
Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life.
But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again.
“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.”
The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately.
“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.
“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”
Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.
“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.
"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.
"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"
You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect.
The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.
Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.
You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.
"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."
He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.
Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most.
You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.
"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."
"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."
So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.
Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—
Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.
"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."
A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth.
"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.
"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—
The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.
"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."
You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.
Neither of you makes it to work on time.
TUESDAY
"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."
The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.
You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you’re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.
“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.
“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.
“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”
“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.
“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.
“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless.
It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too.
“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her.
It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself.
You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand.
“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.
“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack.
…Wait. She’s leaving?
“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”
“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”
You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder.
“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!”
And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.
You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?
Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.
Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best.
Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.
The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.
There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship.
Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.
Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.
You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good.
You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise.
“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”
Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit.
Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.
And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.
“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”
He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen.
“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.
“Good. It’s dinner time.”
WEDNESDAY
"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."
Spin class sucks.
There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.
It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this.
It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun.
But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.
No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it.
There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.
The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative.
It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.
Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.
Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him.
What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats.
Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you.
That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.
The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are.
Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all.
You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.
"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"
You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far.
On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.
It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.
“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."
Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core.
You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.
Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.
"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"
His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it.
Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.
Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.
"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."
And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars.
Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful.
Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—
But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.
"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"
Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.
"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.
You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.
"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.
"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.
"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.
"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine."
Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him.
You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.
All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—
But he's got one last edge left in him.
You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.
He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.
"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively.
Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you.
But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.
You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.
"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need.
You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs.
Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?
But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself.
Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.
“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."
You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?
"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.
He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.
"Wanna explain what all of that was?"
"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."
"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense.
You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.
"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"
"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!"
But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.
"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.
"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.
"That's okay. We won't need one."
THURSDAY
"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"
Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.
You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.
How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.
Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.
It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option.
Two blue lines. Pregnant.
You knew this week was going a little too well.
Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.
Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought.
Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this.
It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.
There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.
Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point.
You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before?
Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight.
Fuck.
Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.
But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar.
Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?
No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.
If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable.
Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.
So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken.
Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.
“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”
She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken.
“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”
“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”
The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.
Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.
It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.
"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"
Yeah, you could say that.
You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.
"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you.
His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you.
Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering.
That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.
Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.
But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.
His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.
His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.
“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."
Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm.
But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.
“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.
“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”
Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.
The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.
“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells.
“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”
“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone.
Together. You’re in this together.
“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”
FRIDAY
"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."
Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.
You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk.
“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.”
You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.
Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer.
Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that.
You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up.
Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes.
Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur.
Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time.
You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.
Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.
Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.
“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand.
But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer.
“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”
You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck.
“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.
“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips.
Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans.
You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere.
Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.
But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.
“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”
You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.
“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”
“Whatever you want, baby."
Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction.
Now, you want something else.
You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either.
His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all.
Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.
"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."
Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken.
Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration.
He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.
Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie.
"Should ya be doin' that right now?"
There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.
"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"
The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.
"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"
You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.
"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."
"Deal," he says without hesitation.
"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening.
He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.
"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."
Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.
"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart.
You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.
Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open.
"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."
Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit.
Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast.
Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap.
"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"
You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—
Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically.
"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.
What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now.
And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.
Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric.
He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.
"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.
"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."
"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."
He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.
"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."
But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.
"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.
You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something.
"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his.
You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation.
"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now."
Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.
His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back.
So hot. So fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.
"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.
"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."
Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead.
"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."
Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough.
Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.
“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you.
It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.
But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.
"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.
Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.
Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.
And still so mouthy.
“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”
"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?"
It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.
"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."
Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight.
His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.
“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”
“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?”
Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.
“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”
SATURDAY
"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."
You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.
And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.
Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content.
He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs.
That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.
But, soon enough, your jaw isn’t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.
He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.
His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once.
Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you.
"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens.
"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"
You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers.
Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.
"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.
"Huh?" you ask dumbly.
"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh.
"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."
Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.
"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"
And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.
God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.
Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.
"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."
Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath.
You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement.
He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you.
But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.
You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.
“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"
Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.
“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”
Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.
Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.
Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves.
His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip.
The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him.
And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat.
You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.
"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."
How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.
Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite.
But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.
Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment.
And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking.
Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.
Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.
“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”
It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.
At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.
His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again.
Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation.
Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.
Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.
“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach.
Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.
"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away.
His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.
"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.
It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives.
“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.”
You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.
“Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”
He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.
You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful.
When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free.
Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.
Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.
Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.
He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately.
After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.
"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."
The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache.
You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.
Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth.
"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."
He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.
“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."
You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.
Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.
"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"
Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that.
His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does.
Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.
You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would.
And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.
You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could.
It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.
"Yeah, I do."
thanks for reading! 💕
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller fluff#joel miller angst#joel miller#tlou fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal characters
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
A Helping Hand
Pairing: Reader x Bat Boys
Summary: Even most powerful males in Prythian need relationship advice from their best friend.
Warnings: males bein males about females (but theyre well meaning), brief mentions of sexual encounters, crack & friendship fluff!!
Word Count: 3.3k
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
There was one thing about Cassian that you’d come to know over the centuries you’d been friends: the male could talk.
He was on a new tangent now, describing the details of a strange dream he’d had a few days prior, casually laying across the couch with his feet propped up on the arm rests. How his wings weren’t uncomfortable being smushed underneath him and the couch cushions, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t about to ask and risk another hour long explanation of how nothing phases him because he's “just that male.”
“And the princess next to him looked exactly like Az-”
You let out a groan, pushing yourself to sit upright from your current slouched position, staring at Cassian with a confused expression. “Cass,” you said, “What the hell are you talking about?”
He stopped mid sentence, turning to look at you with an open mouth and a blank stare. “My dream. Were you not listening?”
You gave him a look. “No.”
He frowned. “Well, that's rude. I listen to all of your dreams.”
“No, you don’t.”
He stilled for a moment, holding your stare, and then a giant grin broke out on his face. “Ah, you got me. I don’t.”
You let out a small snort before shaking your head and taking another deep breath. “Can we get back to why you needed to talk to me in the first place?”
Cassian’s face lit up in acknowledgement, and then he was readjusting himself to a proper sitting position, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. “Right, okay. I need your expertise on matters of the heart."
You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. “Okay…”
"Alright, so you know that female I’ve been with?"
You raised your eyebrows. “You have to be more specific than that.”
He stilled for a moment, pursing his lips in thought. Then he grinned, “The one who I said tasted like honey?”
You grimaced at his description. But Cass didn’t notice as he continued, “She’s super pretty. Real nice too, she gave you those little treats, remember?”
You thought back to the previous weeks, faintly remembering running into a female in the kitchen. You were still hungover from the night prior, so you didn’t remember much about the small conversation you’d held with her, but you did remember those treats— and the way she stared at Cassian longingly.
“I remember,” you finally said. “What about her?”
“I like her. I think she’s really cool. So, I want to do something to impress her, maybe ask her out for real.”
You smiled at him, a small, gentle, upside down smile that formed a small pout as you said, “Aw, Cass, you softie.”
The male in front of you grinned again, offering you a small shrug. “What can I say, I’m pussy-whipped.”
Your smile fell and you rolled your eyes. Well, that moment was nice while it lasted. You took a deep breath before leaning forward more, matching Cassian’s posture.
"She really liked you, so I don’t think you can go wrong. Just do what feels right.”
Cassian’s grin grew as he nodded his head in contemplation. "Alright,” he said, “Hear me out. I'm thinking of making a grand gesture outside her apartment, something to really show her how I feel."
You nodded, intrigued. "Okay, go on."
"And get this," He leaned in closer, a childlike glee in his voice as he continued, "I'll do it butt-ass naked, with a ribbon tied around my—"
Your hand shot up in front of you, a single finger pointed to cut him off mid-sentence. A deep sigh escaped you as you brought the hand to your face and pinched the bridge of your nose.
"So, I stand corrected,” you said with a disappointed nod. “You can go wrong."
Cassian's expression faltered, confusion evident in his features as he frowned. "What? You just told me—"
"Yeah, that was before you said that terrible idea," you interrupted, shaking your head in disbelief. "Don't do that. Do anything but that."
He sat up straighter, his lips slightly upturned now, a glint in his eyes. "Anything?"
You paused, remembering your earlier encouragement. Then you let out a deep sound of frustration. "Dude, just get her some flowers."
"But that's so boring,” he whined, “Like, Rhys boring. I gotta go big or go home, you know?"
You let out a groan at the ceiling, letting yourself fall back into the couch with an exasperated flare of your hands. "At this rate, please go home. I'm begging you."
But then, just as Cassian was about to let himself fall back into the couch, a mischievous grin spread across his face. "I've got an idea,” he said, quickly jumping off the couch.
He stopped midway, turning around to walk over to you in a few quick strides. He leaned down, managing to plant a quick kiss on your cheek before running away again.
“Thanks, Y/n. Love you!”
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
It was a quiet morning in the townhouse, gentle rays of sun shining through the opened kitchen window. You rubbed your tired eyes as you looked outside, waiting for the remnants of your sleep to disappear with the new day. Your hands held onto the small apple in your grasp, running your fingers along the fruit as you stared outside. With a small hum of contentment, you turned around to head back to your room.
You bumped into a large mass as you turned around, a dark figure shrouded in shadows as it stood still before you.
“Holy fuck!”
The apple fell from your hands as you jumped back, eyes blinking rapidly as Azriel’s presence registered before you, a small amused smile on his face. You let out a deep breath, hands flying to your heavily beating heart. You glared at him, your gaze quickly flickering down to your waist, where a small black mass floated around your apple— suspended in mid air as it was caught during its fall.
You quickly snatched the apple back, watching as the shadows happily trailed back to Azriel, their black forms settling behind his back and above his shoulders. You brought your glare back to Azriel’s face.
He did this to you often, quieting the sound of hit footsteps with his shadows to make his entrances stealthy and unnoticed. It never got old to him, how often you’d get caught off guard and send a glare his way, usually accompanied by a string of curses he’d never heard put together.
“Footsteps make noise for a reason, Az,” you grumbled, “So you don’t make your loved ones shit their pants.”
His eyebrows raised slightly, and you didn’t miss the movement of a lone tendril moving towards you— you lightly swatted it away, redirecting it like a small, curious puppy.
“I didn’t mean literally, you ass.”
Azriel only grinned in response, a small laugh leaving his lips. “It just never gets old.”
His hair was slightly tousled, messy across his forehead. He wore a simple black shirt and sweatpants, a casual, lazy look that he often adorned on quiet, slow, mornings like these— this version of Az, laid-back and comfortable, was one solely reserved for the townhouse, and only for you and your family.
“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes at him. “What do you want?”
Az frowned slightly. “Good Morning to you, too, I guess.”
“It was a good morning, until you disrupted my peace. What do you want?”
Azriel’s face held a mischievous smile as he shrugged. “Why do you think I want something?”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Because I know you. And you’re wearing your I need a favor face.”
He scowled at this, letting out a small sound of offense. “That's not a real thing.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No,” he protested again, “I don’t have faces. This is just my face.”
“Az,” you groaned. “Get to the point please. What do you want?”
He let out a sigh of defeat before he shifted on his feet. “Fine, I need your he-”
You pointed an excited finger in his face. “Aha,” you said loudly, “I knew you needed something!”
Yet again, he scowled at this, lightly knocking your finger out of his face with his palm. He gave you a flat look.
“Ow.”
“Can I speak now?”
You held your hands up in resignation, finally bringing the apple to your mouth as you took a small bite.
“Pierla won’t leave me alone.”
You frowned at him, brows furrowing slightly. “Who?”
Somehow, Azriel’s face fell even flatter, and he stared at you with an unammused look. “Y/n,” he said, almost scolding you with an exasperated tone.
“What?” you said. “I’m sorry I don’t keep track of every female you guys bed. My fault.”
He rolled his eyes, and you resisted the urge to either scoff in disbelief or mimic his movements. Sure, laid-back and comfortable Azriel was reserved for the townhouse and morning like this, but so was sassy Azriel and his impatience as well. You preferred the first— and only the second when it was directed at anyone but you.
“I slept with her like five days ago.”
“Okay,” you drawled, “And now she won’t leave you alone.”
He nodded, letting out a small sigh.
You stared at him, brows still furrowed, a frown now on your face that crinkled your nose. “Well that sucks.”
He stared at you again, the same flat and unamused look on his face. A flicker of irritation ran through his hazel eyes. “Y/n.”
You lifted your hands up in exasperation, the apple still held in one hand, adorned by the lone bite you’d been granted to take. “What?” you responded, “The hell am I supposed to do about that? That’s a pp.”
“A pp?”
You pursed your lips, preparing yourself to hold back a laugh. “A personal problem.”
He let out a sound of frustration. “Really?”
You let your mouth fall open in response. “Again, I reiterate, what am I supposed to do in this situation?”
“I don’t know!” His hands flew out in desperation as he shrugged, his shadows bouncing to the edges of his fingertips. “Help me, or something. Please.”
“Did you tell her you’re not interested?”
“Yes.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you tell her you’re not interested?”
“Vocally? No. Physically? Yes.”
You scrunched your face in confusion. “What does that even mean?”
Azriel brought a finger to the bridge of his nose. You rolled your eyes, not waiting for him to respond as you added, “Why are you acting frustrated right now? You put yourself in this position, Az.”
For what felt like the millionth time in the conversation, Az scowled. “I’m well aware of the position I’m currently placed in, Y/n.”
You brought the apple to your mouth, taking advantage of the moment of silence to actually indulge in the sole reason you’d been in the kitchen in the first place. Taking a few seconds to chew, you mulled over the options at hand.
“Next time you’re with her, just stare.”
Azriel blinked. “What.”
“You have this stare you do when you zone out, it's creepy. And unnerving. It makes me want to apologize for things I’ve never done.”
His eyebrows raised in amusement, a slight smirk forming on his lips. You narrowed your eyes before letting your face fall, as you frowned at him, arms falling lax at your sides. “You do it on purpose, don’t you?”
His smirk grew. “Never,” he replied, but the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. “But good idea, I’ll do that. Thanks, Y/n.”
As he turned his back and began walking out, you quickly sent a vulgar gesture to his back, angrily sticking up your middle finger in mockery.
“Saw that,” he sang over his shoulders. You casted your gaze down to a lone shadow that danced before you.
“Snitch,” you whispered down to it, watching as it began sliding to Azriel’s retreating form.
His voice rang out from the hallway, “Heard that, too.”
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
Velaris was extra lively this morning, and it made your day even better.
You always found it so special that despite his duties as High Lord, Rhys never missed the tradition of getting breakfast with you every other Wednesday. You couldn’t quite remember when the tradition started, surely centuries ago when you both were younger, deciding that Wednesday’s needed a specific pick-me-up to get through the rest of the week. But the tradition formed, and it stayed for centuries. And, truly, you loved it. It always gave you a sense of comfort— a reminder that things may always change around you, but never when it came to the bond you shared with your boys, and with Rhysand especially.
But Rhys was quiet this morning, absentmindedly picking at the flakes of the croissant on his table.
You let out a small laugh. “Okay, spill. What the hell happened to you?”
Rhys slowly angled his head to look up at you, face distorted in defeat. “Females,” he muttered. “That’s what happened.”
You frowned, placing the croissant back down on the plate before you. You dusted your hands of crumbs. “Usually you say that word with a lot more excitement.”
He raised his eyebrows in response, and you watched as he rolled his eyes slightly. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
You lifted an eyebrow of your own. “What did you do?”
He brought his gaze back to you. “I’ve been fucking around with the twins.”
You frowned in confusion.
“...Nuala and Cerridwen?” You whispered, leaning closer to him, face scrunched.
You let your mind wander for a moment, thinking about the two twins that Rhysand had welcomed into your home. You loved the sisters dearly, and even you can admit they were beautiful— a type of beauty you didn’t really know how to describe, but beautiful nonetheless. But they were more shadows than they were form, not tangible enough to….have sex with, you assumed. You blinked.
“W-What?” Rhysand said, eyes widening slightly. “No. The twins from Rita’s last weekend.”
“Oh,” you breathed out with a relieved smile. And then you thought back to the two females Rhys had left with, a grin forming on your face.” Oh,” you said, amused. You leaned forward bumped his shoulders with a gentle fist. “Nice.”
“Not nice,” he grumbled, letting his back fall against the metal back of the chair. He let out an exasperated sigh. Your gaze trailed to the streets next to you, catching the sight of a few passerbys taking in the scene of their defeated High Lord. You cleared your throat, leaning forward in your chair to place your elbows on the table.
“Okay, I’m confused,” you said, “Why is this not a good thing? Seventeen year old Rhysand would be pissing in excitement right now.”
Rhys let out a small snicker at this, a small smirk on his face at the image. But then it quickly fell when he let out another grumble.
“Rhys, people are looking at you and making fun of you.”
He sprung up at this, eyes quickly searching his surroundings. He made eye contact with a few citizens, sprouting a large, charming grin on his face as he lifted a hand in greeting. The groups hesitantly gave a wave back, opting for small smiles before they went on their way.
Rhysand then looked at you once more, leaning forward to grab your hands in his.
“I’m an honest male. I’m allowed to make mistakes, right?”
It was becoming suspicious now, and you narrowed your eyes at him with pursed lips.
“What did you do?”
He gave you a small, guilty smile, perfect teeth on display.
“I bought them flowers, right? Just a sweet, classic, gesture to show them I was interested.”
You resisted the urge to laugh. It was, indeed, a sweet gesture, but Cassian’s words from earlier in the week rang in your mind, his joke about flowers being a boring move-- a boring Rhys move. You didn’t hide your amusement well enough, though, and Rhysand narrowed his eyes at you, tapping your hands lightly to draw your attention back.
“What?” he said.
You shook your head, giving him a small, inconspicuous smile. Then you offered him a shrug. “Nothing. Keep talking.”
He kept his eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he gave up, letting out another dramatic-Rhysand sigh. “But apparently, I gave each of the flowers to the wrong twin. And now they’re mad that I can’t tell them apart. I mean, they’re identical, Y/n. As amazing as I am, I’m no god.”
You let out a small snort, staring at him with an amused smile. “You can literally read minds.”
He opened his mouth. And then closed it.
“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “That hadn’t occurred to me.”
You laughed, readjusting your hands so now it was yours that lay otop of his. You gave a gentle pat. “But that’s wrong. So you need to find a way to differentiate them, at least if you want to keep whatever it is you have going.”
“It’s fun,” he said, as a grin began to grow on his face. “One female is great, but sisters?” He let out a small whistle, “Whole other experience.”
You grimaced. “Rhysand,” you scolded, “Don’t be such a male. I was going to offer to help you. I take it back.”
“No, no,” he said, looking at you with wide eyes. He then gave you a pout, “Please.”
You held his stare for a moment, watched as he titled his head and gave you an innocent, charming, boyish smile.
“Fine,” you finally said, “But you owe me.”
Rhysand grinned, large and broad, as he sat back into his chair and picked up the small desert on his plate. “I always do,” he said with a gleam in his eye, bringing the croissant to his mouth.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
It took you a few days, four to be exact, before you were able to fulfill the promise you’d made to Rhysand. It was nighttime now as you finally returned to the townhouse for the day. From down the hall, you could see the dim faelight pouring out from Rhysand’s office, his door wide open.
Once you reached the doorway, you perched yourself in it, leaning against it as you cleared your throat.
“Leyra is slightly shorter and has two dimples. Kerala has shorter hair, one dimple, and a freckle on her chin.”
Rhysand looked up from his papers, sitting up right in his chair with a smile on his face. “Have I told you how amazing you are?”
You gave him a grin. “Add it to the list.”
Rhys laughed, tilting his head as he took in a relaxed breath. “Thank you.”
You gave him a small nod of your head as you began walking out. But before you took a step to leave, you popped your head back into the view of the doorway, wrapping your hand around the edge of the frame.
“Kerala also has a freckle on the inside of her right thigh. Kinda looks like a little heart.”
Rhysand’s face furrowed, and then his mouth fell open slightly. He narrowed his eyes.
“How do you know that?”
You grinned at him for the second time that night, giving the frame of the doorway a pat with your hands. Then you shrugged. “You never told me how you wanted me to help.”
Before Rhys could register your words, you were walking away, your figure disappearing from his open door.
When it finally hit, Rhys let out a small chuckle. Then, he shrugged to himself, returning to his work with an amused smile.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria
bat boys tag list 🫶🏻: @willowpains @maevecrom @vansaddy
#azriel x reader#cassian x reader#rhysand x reader#rhys x reader#batboys x reader#azriel x you#azriel x y/n#cassian x you#cassian x y/n#cassian x reader fluff#azriel x reader fluff#rhysand x you#rhysand x y/n#rhysand x reader fluff#batboys x you#batboys x y/n#acotar x reader#acotar x you#acotar x y/n#azriel fanfic#cassian fanfic#rhysand fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#rhysand acotar#acotar fanfic#acotar fanfiction
525 notes
·
View notes
Text
Little pieces here and there (1)
Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)
Chapters: two, three, four, five
Word Count: 2,6K (i was inspired by god itself)
Warnings: none, lot of context (i promise the next chapter will have way less filling), light flirting
A/N: I HAVE ALREADY THOUGHT ABOUT AT LEAST 5 CHAPTERS MORE, I HOPE SOMEONE LIKES THIS FIRST ONE BECAUSE I'M ON MY KNEES FOR THIS DAMN CLOWN. Let me know if you wanna be tagged in other parts! (Side note: i'm spanish, so if there's some mistakes, i'm trully sorry, i don't have beta readers).
It's not enough to suddenly find herself locked in a box with 3 idiots she met a matter of hours ago, no; To make it worse, as it could not be otherwise, it turns out that she is in a bloody circus, ''kidnapped'' by a band of pirates that she recognizes as soon as she sees the red and white tent over their heads, the distressed faces of the poor people that make up the audience, and the costumes of the band around them.
She sighs, and wonders what the hell she's doing there despite knowing perfectly well what kind of decisions have led her to that damned place. Wanna know what happened? Let's recap, shall we?
(Y/N) (S/N). That name doesn't sound familiar, right? Very few know it but the reputation that accompanies the person who responds to it is very famous throughout the 4 seas. She is not a bounty hunter, nor a marine, neither a pirate or a pirate hunter, like the green-haired hottie with whom she finds herself in such trouble, or a thief, like the ginger who she bet, will escape running without looking back at the slightest opportunity she finds.
No, she's a mercenary. She doesn't work solely for money, otherwise she would go against the most bloodthirsty and ruthless of each sea, and that doesn'tt interest her, because she would put herself on the radar of both the pirates and the marines.
No, she is contacted through different channels, none of them direct, and if the job interests her, amuses her, or even piques her curiosity, she accept it. She goes after all kinds of people, whether they are pirates or marines, gangsters at the top of the terror scale or criminals who, like her, tried to keep a low profile.
However, and as we were saying, despite trying to remain anonymous, she is good at her job, a born strategist with an incredible facility to adapt and blend in with her surroundings to sneak into the most remote places, so her existence inevitably began to be noticed along the seas, rumors about this young mercenary with an angelic face, who only responded to her own morals and of whom few escaped to tell the tale.
And this is how she met that group of weirdos who found each others through the power of the plot's convenience; her last assignment was to steal the map from the Grand Line. There are not many, these kept safe and protected in large fortresses throughout the globe, and among all those that she could have tried to steal, she made the horrible decision of going for the one that was closest to her, encountering those three idiots in the crossfire of the disaster that unfolded in Shells Town.
How did she end up giving up the assignment and at that precise moment there, with them? Simple: Luffy piqued her curiosity. And there are few things stronger than (Y/N)'s curiosity.
"Hey, I know you. I saw your wanted poster in Shells Town, you're the clown guy. Umm, uh… Binky, right?" Luffy exclaimed, as confident of himself as usual.
Buggy, she mentally corrected, arms crossed over her chest, rolling her eyes at the same time the clown corrected loudly and dramatically listed his many nicknames. Which she was sure, only he called himself.
''Wow, you have a lot of names. I bet everyone in the East Blue knows who you are.” The audience gasp. There's confusion in the boy's face, and an almost psychopatic tic in the clown's one. ''What did you just say?'' Buggy asks lowly. ''Just that everyone knows who you are.'' Luffy repeats.
''Nose!? Are you making fun of my nose!?’’
Then came the slap, like the one someone usually gives when a friend is trying to steal their food or touch something they definitely shouldn't. Buggy is killing the straw hat boy with his eyes but the gesture is so… innocent. She expected threats with knives, to be honest.
And because of the unexpected, she almost let a laugh escape in the form of a cough but she controlled herself fast enough to not grab unnecessary attention to her.
''What's real is...'' Buggy resumes the conversation, getting some distance with Luffy to walk around the rest too. ’’I’ve been scheming for months to steal that map from old Axe-Hand moron…’’ (Y/N) sees how he approaches her, but she didn't expect him to close the distance between each other so much, his nose almost touching her own, sharp blue eyes fixed on her from a slightly lower perspective. The truth is... that she also doesn't know how to tell if that nose is real or not, but now she really wants to touch it to find out. Dear God, what a realistic texture. It’s incredible.
Pressing her lips together in a contained expression as she shakes her head, she raises an eyebrow, letting him know that the joke wasn't as funny as he hoped, and he clucks, accepting defeat in such good humor that no one would say, that is a kidnapping and someone would end up dead by the end of the day.
She heard of him. His reward was not one of the highest but neither one of those that go unnoticed in the East Blue. He was also an eccentric, of course people talked about the blue-haired, red-nosed clown who terrified his victims in a macabre way. Those who survived ended up traumatized.
He is, or at least looks, younger than she imagined, and he fit right in with the urban legends of evil clowns kidnapping children and then dismembering them. She wonders, silently, thoughtful eyes scanning his face and body language from a distance, if this is some softie on the inside with high aspirations in life who was unfortunate enough to bump into someone who traumatized him and hence all this show and facade of the cruel and heartless clown -to protect himself as the good cliché he seems- or if, on the contrary, he is, simply and plainly, a yandere who craves attention no matter how he has to obtain it.
If she remembers correctly, there was also a rumor that he ate a devil fruit. Just like Luffy, which it doesn't take long for the clown to discover after Zoro tries to save the situation by showing off his reputation -obviously it doesn't work- and Nami does exactly what (Y/N) predicted. Not her fault, either, she doesn't owe any of them anything at all.
''Okay. Here ends the theatrics.’’ The lights go out and it’s then that everyone can small the disaster in the air. A chill runs down the back of (Y/N), who tends to infiltrate without being seen and avoids, whenever possible, a direct encounter; hand-to-hand combat is not exactly his specialty. And given the circumstances is impossible for her to know if the daggers she usually hides in the side of his combat boots -for emergencies like this one- are still there. ''I know one of you has my map, and I'm gonna get it back. What was it you said, Rubber Boy? That it was in a safe place?”
How long were they unconscious before? Enough to hijack the ship, get to land, and move 4 dead weight bodies to that circus, locking them in a box. By that point she would bet some member of the gang would have thoroughly searched the ship, and them too. Disgusting.
Buggy takes a last, attentive look at both Zoro and Nami, ruling out that one of the two has the map because when the girl tried to flee, Luffy was not shocked thinking that perhaps she would steal it from him. Which leaves the two of them, Luffy and her, alone with him.
''So, please'' the clown gestures to his subordinates with his head. ''make these two guests uncomfortable in the green room. I’m gonna have a chat with my stretchy new pal and…’’ His eyes jump to her, tilting his head to the side with genuine curiosity. ''this beauty that was incapable of taking her eyes off me.''
Fuck. Was it that obvious?
''Doll, you are the only one who hasn't opened your mouth yet and I don't think it's because you’re a shy little flower.'' He begins, circling around her like an animal hunting its prey, analyzing it, hoping to see a chink of weakness to attack. ''Are you bored?'' He asks almost in a whisper near her ear. ''Is that it? Are you so, so bored that you don't think it's worth enough interacting with the rest of us?'' Breaking away from her when he realizes she doesn't falter, he smiles a huge, threatening smile, looking her up and down in such a way that it almost makes her feel dirty. "Or maybe you're the one who has my map, and you're quiet to try not to attract /my/ attention."
She? The map? Wearing such tight pants and top? Yeah, maybe up her ass, but she's not the one who is going to tell him otherwise because if he, or one of his subordinates, comes to search her, she could take advantage of the opportunity to steal some sort of weapon from them.
In particular from Buggy; (Y/N) saw the knives he keeps in his coat and… she wouldn't mind taking a closer look at that interesting nose.
"Busted." She finally admits with a lopsided smile, raising both eyebrows when she sees the surprise on the clown's face. He didn't expect such a cocky response, did he? "I'm not the type of person who likes to attract attention, the spotlight is for others who are more... flashy." She pronounces it honeyedly, repeating the same nickname he used before, pointing at him with a gesture of her chin. "However, I'm not going to tell you where the map is. If you want to find it, come and search for it yourself."
Shrugging her shoulders, she stretches out both arms in a gesture that invites him to come closer. Bold, he thinks, more than pleased with this unexpected turn of events, taking some steps in her direction. She adds once more: "although I would be surprised if you hadn't already done it during the time we have been unconscious"
"Me?" He points at himself, stopping right in front of her. "Take advantage of a defenseless young lady?" He almost sounded offended if it wasn't for the shit eating grin and the eager way he was scanning her body now. "What kind of degenerate do you take me for?"
She scoffs, and Buggy, unsure, seems to consider -for some long seconds- whether or not to do the job himself, (Y/N) being too calm for how helpless she seems. But surely, he knows, she doesn't have any weapons on her; his subordinates were in charge, as she said, of searching all of them as soon as they were brought to the circus.
In the end he gives up, because he would be damned if he dared to refuse to thoroughly touch this mysterious woman who may, just may, have his map hidden somewhere. He strongly doubts it, tho.
Soon enough, he moves again, standing then behind her, and without asking permission, he doesn’t need it either, his hands start roaming her shoulders and sides slowly, making sure to feel anything weird between her clothes and the skin underneath. Like the fucking map, folded until it is nothing more than a small piece of paper easy to hide.
Because that is the whole point of that scene, right?
"Go on, be my guest." she says sarcastically, trying to stay calm and breathe slowly, because (Y/N) likes to pretend to be made of stone, but not /that much/. The pressure of those gloves against her already tight clothes and the hungry way she knows those -green? blue? difficult to say with those circus lights- eyes are watching her every move make her heart beat a bit faster in something she’d call /the average amount of nervousness when a known, wanted pirate search for something we wants while threatening to kill you if he doesn’t find it/.
Buggy, on the other hand, is so engrossed in his task that his usual cocky smile has disappeared a few seconds ago; he is waiting to feel a change in the girl's body language to be able to guess if she has it or if, on the contrary, this search will be saved in his memory as no more than a small pleasurable pause after all the stress that the goddamn map is putting him through. Because he can't deny it, she's actually a beauty, and in other circumstances he wouldn't mind getting to know her in a funnier way. At all.
Inhaling deeply, wetting his red lips with his tongue, he lets the air out slowly, tilting his head to the side to see her better. He should hurry up and stop making that scene as intimate as it's becoming, audience and all, but he's a thorough man. Or that’s the excuse -explanation- he will give to whoever dares to ask.
"Where the hell did you hide my map?" He asks melodiously as he finishes searching her torso, his right hand starting to go a little lower, getting dangerously close to her hipbone when (Y/N)'s right hand flies up and catches his wrist between her fingers, stopping him dead in his tracks. She couldn't help it, she acted on autopilot, she is not ready to be the main character of a porn movie with audience included letting him roaming all around as he pleases. "Not between my legs, so keep lowering your hands and I'll cut them off." she threatens, turning her face to look at him standing behind her.
Right back, as if those words were magical or something, the huge, shit eating smile of his returns to the lips of the unstable clown, and without letting go, he makes her spin, facing her with both hands on her waist, strongly keeping her in place, sharp eyes fixed on her, and without realizing it, she stops breathing for a second. "You promise?" He whispers, pleads almost, in an amused, delighted tone of voice after such a threat. She was way interesting than he expected, not as shy or scared as an unarmed girl like her should be. He likes that. A lot.
However, he has -sadly- things to do and he did in fact, already lost time with her. His eyes betraying him the moment they land on the girl's lips, Buggy winks at her with a cocky expression and pulls away suddenly, raising both arms "Another disappointment, how many more can our audience endure? You’re the only one left, Rubber Boy, don't let me down." He points him, moving closer, while (Y/N) just stays there where he left her, wondering what the fuck just happened and why does her heart run so fast now.
Adrenaline, probably.
"Take her with the others" he ends up saying to a couple of members of his gang, to which she responds by moving on her own in the direction of where they have taken Zoro and Nami before, preventing them from guiding her by force and discovering the knife she stole from Buggy when he got so damn close to her, and which she secretly hid between the waistband of her pants and her shirt.
Risky, she could cut herself with the smallest movement at the least expected moment, but it was way worse to see herself unarmed.
Buggy, infatuated, takes one last look at her and, raising one hand, waves his fingers in the air with a huge smile on his face as he says goodbye to her.
"See you later, love."
#buggy x reader#buggy the clown#buggy one piece#op buggy#one piece live action#buggy x you#buggy the clown fanfiction#one piece#one piece x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Way to His Heart [8]
Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader
AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)
Word Count: 3.6k
Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.
Part 7 | Fic Masterlist | Part 9
"Sir, the dressmaker has arrived with the mistress' first batch of clothes. Should I send him directly to the House of Lotus?" Jongho asked tentatively from the entrance of his master's study.
Removing his hands from his head, Seonghwa looked up and shook his head miserably, "Lord, no. Send him to me first," The assistant bowed and went to do as he was told, "Right away, sir."
Hongjoong entered the study without bothering to knock, hands propped on his hip as he stared at your husband, unamused, "Would you mind explaining why I'm here instead of presenting the new clothes to your wife, Park Seonghwa?"
"I need advice, Hongjoong." The general croaked, feeling quite lost for once. He had rarely ever been in such a situation; who knew all it took was one woman to put him in such misery. Not even the most vicious enemies he had fought in war could have ever fazed him this much.
He returned from work the day before, enthusiastically sharing his plans for the grand wedding he wanted to give you. However, things went south when he dropped the bomb about the visit to your old home, foolishly believing you would express joy at the prospect of flaunting your newfound happiness to your wicked family. Instead, you were gripped with fear at the idea. You ended up retiring to your quarters early and refused to come out ever since.
Goddamnit, I'm the biggest moron ever.
The dressmaker raised an amused brow, having never seen Seonghwa like this before. He went over to sit down across from his friend, "Hmm, I didn't think you'd be having trouble in paradise this soon. Let's hear it; we'll see if there's anything I can do for you and that lovely wife of yours."
Taking a deep breath, your husband started from the beginning, recounting every single thing that happened from the start of your arranged marriage until the present.
"Wait, you're taking her back to that wretched place? No wonder she's upset, you idiot! You said it yourself; she suffered so badly being caged in there all her life. I mean, sure, your cause is very noble—wanting to make her family pay for what they've done with this plan of yours. But you'd been so focused on that, you forgot how traumatising it could be for her, huh? You really didn't think that one through, my friend."
Letting out a groan, the general pulled at his hair, "Yes, thank you for repeating it all to me like I didn't already know what I did wrong. Now, tell me what exactly it is that I can do to make it all better."
"You're welcome. Oh, I'll tell you what to do, all right. You best keep your dumbass seated here while I talk to her," instructed Hongjoong, watching expectantly as your husband frowned, "What? Why should you talk to her? It's my mess; I should be the one to clean it up."
Sighing, the dressmaker explained, "Look, we all know the only way for you to make things better is to not take her back to the damn house at all. But you do have a point, okay? You've come this far with your plan, and as much as it sucks, she must go there with you in order for this to work out. So, you stay put, and let me convince her to go willingly with you, got it?"
Seonghwa nodded reluctantly, realising his friend was right. As much as he hated how charming Hongjoong was and how persuasive he could be, he would have to rely on those skills to help you see things in the bigger picture. Sure, you were not privy to any details about the revenge, but hopefully, he will be able to make you at least want to stand up to your family for once.
"Lady Park, it's Hongjoong. I've brought your first batch of clothing. May I have permission to enter?" Blinking in surprise, you straightened up, not expecting to hear the dressmaker's voice, "O-okay, please come in."
Despite the anxious state you'd been in since the revelation your husband had dropped upon you the night before, you couldn't help but smile at the unusually colourful outfit of your visitor. Eunsook followed behind him with a group of servants filing in to deliver the precious cargo into your quarters.
The head maid felt relieved to see you smiling again, even if it was only a little. She had been concerned about you after witnessing your retreat into your old shell the previous night, as the fear you demonstrated reminded everyone of your initial arrival.
In an effort to distract you from your upsetting thoughts, the dressmaker quickly pulled out a few designs he thought you'd love, "Come, take a look at this! I made it the way you preferred and added a little touch of my magic. What do you think?"
Fortunately, his strategy worked like a charm, and you immediately moved over to him with sparkly eyes, marvelling at some of the most beautiful hanboks you'd ever seen, even prettier than the ones he had displayed in his shop.
As you admired the clothes in front of you, Hongjoong exchanged a knowing look with the elderly woman. Nodding, she quietly exited your room along with the rest of the servants, leaving you alone with your husband's old friend.
But you weren't entirely alone, of course.
Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa was right outside, listening intently. He didn't spare any of his servants a glance as they all passed by him with a deep bow, waving his hand carelessly in a gesture to ask them to leave quickly.
"Hey, you haven't answered me. Do you like them, Lady Park?" The dressmaker asked, a teasing smile on his face as he found your endearing shyness adorable.
You nodded quickly, "Yes, I do. I love them. They're all perfect. I just... don't know if I deserve to wear any of these." The general felt his heart clench at your response, realising you were still far from being able to love yourself.
With a scoff, Hongjoong moved to stand beside you, "I'll have you know I only make dresses for people I deem worthy of them. Not just anyone can wear my designs, you know. And you, by far, are probably my favourite client. So that says a lot."
Your husband silently agreed with those words, resisting the urge to rush in there and hold you tight, to tell you that you deserved only the best, that you deserved everything good in the world.
Lowering your head, you fiddled with your fingers before replying in a small voice, "You're only saying that because I'm the general's wife..."
Sighing lightly, the dressmaker turned to face you, "You're not wrong... but that's exactly because not just anyone can be Lady Park. Many women before you tried to be in your position. Regardless of their efforts, he never would have given them the time of day. Yet, he wholeheartedly accepted you."
Recognising the doubt in your eyes, he further explained, "I understand if you think these are just words. But that's probably because you don't know the general like I do. We've known each other since joining the military in our teens. Back then, the Seonghwa I knew would never bat an eyelash at any woman."
As you slowly looked up to meet his kind eyes, intrigued to learn more about your husband's past, he continued, "Those rumours about him being the cold-blooded general were not lies. He really was as merciless as they say. He still is, just not to you. When I saw him again for the first time after years that day, I couldn't believe the man in front of me was the same friend I once knew. He's different around you; he's different because of you."
"It's evident that you're special to him, that you mean something to him. He cares so much about you; do you realise that?"
Tears welled up in your eyes, and you hurriedly blinked them back. The thought of someone genuinely caring for you still seemed surreal despite the amount of care that had been shown to you since living here. However, you were starting to understand that he was right.
Hongjoong grinned, seeing the effectiveness of his words, "You're the first and only woman who can tame Park Seonghwa, so you are beyond worthy of my dresses."
Before you could even attempt to protest, he held up a hand, "And don't bother telling me I'm wrong because I'm never wrong."
You couldn't help but giggle at his sassy words, and he smiled sincerely at you, saying, "So don't you dare question whether you deserve these clothes. You're the only one who deserves them because these are made only for you, do you understand?"
This time, you nodded with a wide smile.
"I want you to wear my dresses proudly and show the world who you are: the great Lady Park, the only woman General Park wants as his wife. No one will dare disrespect or look down on you again."
Feeling as if he knew exactly what had been worrying you, you felt touched. He was right; you were not who you used to be. You had no reason to cower from your family, recalling their belittling assumptions about your survival in this marriage. Now was your chance to prove them wrong.
With newfound determination, you nodded firmly, "You're right, I will. Thank you, Hongjoong. You're a good friend; Seonghwa is lucky to have you."
He crossed his arms over his chest cheekily, "I sure am. That fool hasn't a clue how fortunate he is."
Mission accomplished.
Pumping his fists in victory, your husband silently cheered outside, brushing off the playful taunts from his friend. Just this once, he would forgive Kim Hongjoong.
"Are you ready, my dear?"
The general turned to you as your carriage came to a stop, marking your arrival at what you assumed to be the Jang estate, your former prison. With a resolute nod, you smiled up at him, "I am."
As you moved to exit the vehicle, your husband halted you. Cupping your face in his hands, he gazed reassuringly into your eyes, "Remember, whatever happens, I'm here with you. You're not alone from now on; I'll always be here to protect you."
"I know, Seonghwa. I believe in you."
His heart melted at those words, and he couldn't resist pressing a lingering kiss onto your forehead. You fluttered your eyes closed, holding onto his wrists, cherishing the warmth he was providing.
"Alright, let's go." Leaving one final peck on your cheek, he got out of the carriage and swiftly helped you down, his strong arm securely wrapped around your waist. Eunsook stood there, mouth agape, that was initially meant to be her responsibility but she realised her assistance was no longer needed at the moment.
Jongho grinned, nudging the elderly woman on the shoulder as they followed their master and mistress into the minister's estate, "Come on, we've got work to do."
Taking a deep breath, you surveyed the familiar surroundings that once made you feel small. Feeling a reassuring squeeze on your hand, you found comfort in your husband's presence.
Yes, he's here with you now.
Nothing bad will happen.
His grip on your hand tightened, and his warm smile, reserved only for you, vanished when a few of your father's servants nervously stumbled out, bowing deeply before both of you, "Good morning, General Park. Welcome to the Jang estate."
The brave front you had put on seemed to falter slightly as you realised the servants here remained the same, showing no acknowledgement despite you no longer being their prisoner. Seonghwa, glaring at the maids in front of him, growled in a low voice, "You've left out Lady Park. Will you not greet my wife?"
Gulping on behalf of the servants, you witnessed the return of the general's intimidating demeanour. Hongjoong was right; he was still terrifying, just not to you.
The maids bowed deeper, "B-but sir—"
"What is going on here?" That voice resonated across the courtyard, causing your heart to plummet to the lowest pit of your stomach. Perhaps you weren't ready to face them at all. Your father emerged from the main hall, wearing an expression that was far from pleased.
You pressed closer to your husband, and instinctively, he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you close. The minister's eyebrow raised in surprise at your refined appearance; he nearly did not recognise you. You were even more stunning than on the day you left this place, seemingly given a complete makeover.
Aside from that, he realised the general had meant his words when he had spoken so highly of you during assembly. Witnessing the intimacy between the two of you, there was undeniable evidence of shared affection. Your father began to question whether marrying you to his enemy was a mistake in the first place.
Seonghwa smirked, "Ahh, Minister Jang, it seems your servants do not know proper manners. They did not greet my wife, and that, to me, is punishable."
The old man felt his eye twitch at the general's satisfied grin before responding, "Well, I'm their master, so I decide what is punishable, General Park."
"Right, well, I'm just looking out for you. Wouldn't want people to find out what rotten-mannered staff my father-in-law has in his estate, not knowing how to show respect to even the general's wife."
"You do realise that before she became your wife, she's my daughter first." Your father sneered, and you felt sick at that, to be called his daughter when you've never once been treated as such.
Remaining unfazed, your husband retorted, "All the more reasons for them to show respect to their eldest miss then, no?"
Jongho and Eunsook bowed their heads in an effort to hide their snickers at the minister's red face flushing in embarrassment. He should have known better than to think he could win the general in an argument, "R-right. What are you fools standing around for? Show Lady Park some bloody respect!"
The line of servants bowed all the way down pathetically, "Yes, master! Good morning, General Park and Lady Park! Welcome to the Jang estate!" They chanted loudly, enough to bring about the rest of your family, coming out to witness what all the fuss was about.
"Very well, let us head in then." With a bored expression, Seonghwa walked into the hall with you, moving right past your stepmother and stepsisters intentionally, paying them no mind as he helped you into a seat before settling down beside you.
All four of the women standing in the main hall were rooted to their spots, eyes bulging as they took in the sight of you and your husband. First of all, you were nearly unrecognisable. If they thought you looked pretty on the day you got married, you were now almost a hundred times more beautiful, though they would rather die than ever admit it out loud.
Beyond your enhanced appearance, they were more taken aback by the general's beauty. He was nothing like they had imagined; he must have been one of the most attractive men ever, or at least the most handsome one they had seen so far.
Suddenly, your stepsisters were even angrier than they were upon learning about your stupid grand wedding. They were now furious with their father for never having told them about how good-looking General Park truly was. If only they knew, they would have volunteered to marry him themselves.
But what if there was still hope for them?
What if they had a chance?
After all, you hadn't officially wed Seonghwa yet and were merely here to discuss plans for the upcoming ceremony. Perhaps, with enough effort, they could still win him over. If a peasant like you could seduce the general, why couldn't any of them? With this determination in mind, the three stepsisters promptly began adjusting their appearances as you all gathered around the main hall.
You didn't appreciate the way your stepsisters were eyeing your husband, although you understood their motives. Sensing your discomfort, Seonghwa moved closer to you in his seat, whispering in your ear, "Are you feeling alright, my dear?"
Nodding lightly, you looked up with a small smile, "I am, as long as you're with me," He couldn't resist smiling at your words as he gave you a gentle peck on the head, "Good."
That should be me!
The three stepsisters clenched their fists, their fury intensifying as they witnessed the handsome general being affectionate with you. It should have been them; the title of the general's wife was more befitting a noblewoman like them, not a rat like you. How dare you sit there in their place as if you deserved it?
In an attempt to break the silence, Jinah cleared her throat and made her move, "Have you been well, unnie? I missed you so much! Did you know how worried I was about you? You must have had such a hard time, especially after you adamantly refused to marry General Park."
Seonghwa raised a brow in amusement, while you remained quiet, unsure how to respond to such a blatant lie. Jinjoo scoffed at your lack of response, "Unnie! Will you really not answer Jinah at all? You've always been like that, so ungrateful when we care so much about you!"
"Really? My wife being ungrateful? That's wild. I cannot imagine her like that at all." Your husband chuckled, holding you close when he felt you begin to tremble.
Jinhee's fists shook with envy as she nodded pitifully, "Yes, that's because you haven't known her well enough, my lord. She can be so scary when she's mad, you know how the eldest usually are."
Minister Jang rubbed a tired hand over his head when he realised what his stepdaughters were trying to do. Of course, these foolish girls would easily be blinded by the general's appearance. Even his own wife, seated beside him, found it difficult to take her eyes off the gorgeous young man.
Jongho and Eunsook, positioned behind you and their master, were making every effort to contain the irritation they felt. The audacity of these women to feign innocence after what they've put you through all these years. They were once again thankful not to have any of these conniving foxes as their mistress.
Rubbing his thumbs over your hands, Seonghwa laughed sarcastically in disbelief, "I'm sorry, I just find that so hard to believe. Are you sure you're not all talking about yourselves?" In an instant, his smile dropped, and he sent your stepsisters a death stare as if daring them to continue spouting more ridiculous lies about you.
Left in stunned silence, they blinked nervously and avoided his eyes, unprepared for his questioning. It was clear that they hadn't planned their silly little act thoroughly.
Damn it, how did that worthless thing manage to gain his favour?
"That's enough." The minister declared firmly, not wanting his stepdaughters to continue embarrassing themselves. All he wanted was to get the general out of his house as soon as possible. Every moment that Seonghwa remained felt like a threat; your father was walking on eggshells around him.
Pushing himself off his seat, the old man addressed your husband, "You mentioned wanting to see the environment your wife grew up in, right? Let's proceed with that before we delve into discussions about your wedding arrangements. I don't have all day."
"Sure, can't wait." Seonghwa responded smugly, standing up with your hand securely in his. A sense of unease washed over you as you wondered what kind of deception your father would employ. Surely, they wouldn't be stupid enough to reveal your actual room to the general. Dread filled you, and you longed to return home.
Your real home, not this nightmare.
« Preview of Part 9 »
As you all followed the minister around the estate while he showed the general what was supposed to be your old room, Jongho exchanged a glance with the private investigator who was still posing as a staff member in the estate.
"This is unnie's room; she has the biggest and nicest one out of all of us. She's so lucky and doesn't even know it. I'm the youngest and I have the smallest room; I'd honestly be happy to have anything at all." Jinjoo said innocently, playing with a strand of hair as she batted her eyelashes at Seonghwa.
You stared blankly at the room supposedly designated as yours. It was merely a guest room rearranged with some of your stepsisters' belongings to create the illusion of long-term habitation. Sensing Jinah and Jinhee's intense gazes on you, you turned to find them glaring daggers at you as if daring you to speak up and disclose the truth to your husband.
If you voiced your denial, who would believe you? It was your entire family against you alone. Would there even be a point in trying?
Just as doubt started to creep in, Seonghwa wrapped an arm around you, reminding you of his support, "Is that true, my dear? Is this your room? It doesn't really seem to be your style at all."
Everyone held their breath, awaiting your response, but you remained silent, fixing your gaze on the familiar space where you spent your entire life, now masquerading as a storeroom.
"What is it that you're staring at so intently, hm? Let's go take a look."
Oh, crap.
Shit will go down in the next part, I assure you. Patience, my dearest readers, patience HAHA this part was focused more on setting the stage for the main event.😈
Also, I've created a mood board for this fic. If you haven't already checked it out, go take a look! I might consider making another one that depicts Seonghwa's estate if I'm able to find the right images.
As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3
Tag list (1/3): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178
Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section
All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.
#edenesth#the way to this heart#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez fanfiction#park seonghwa#ateez seonghwa#arranged marriage au#joseon era#seonghwa x reader#seonghwa x you#ateez fic#historical au
703 notes
·
View notes
Text
jk | m
Santa, tell me if you're really there
Don't make me fall in love again
If he won't be here next year. Santa, tell me — Ariana Grande
Summary: After the holidays, your new boyfriend gives you more than enough reasons to know he wants you.
Genre: Friends to lovers, smut
Rated: mature
Pairing: Jungkook x f!reader
Word Count: 1.4 k
Warnings: non idol au! Pet names (here we go again), jealousy, thristing over Jungkook, oral (fem! receive), degradation kink? unprotected sex, creampie, double orgasm and pussy drunk Jungkook
a/n: Here's a second part of my soo dear brother's best friend, just some smut cause we all love it, and have a merry christmas !!!
Having Jungkook as your now boyfriend had you in pure bliss, everything with him was feeling so perfect, the last two months of holiday break were a daydream, reality came to you when you started to talk about your university routine, Jungkook had too many of extracurricular activities and not so many of free time.
“Don't worry, love, I'm sure we'll make it work” he caresses your face and gifts you a peck on the nose
But you were so unsure. Something in the inside of your stomach made you… anxious.
Jungkook was so attractive and the ability to do every little task so smoothly and perfectly had the attention of almost if not every girl in school and you both were so newlyweds you were unsure if he would maintain that decision of being with you.
Surely you didn't have all your schedule full of activities, you weren't so popular, your only friend being Ava, other than Jungkook and your brother. As you watched another series together a week before classes began and you were snuggled in the cup of Jungkook's neck as he caressed your hair, you were anxiously thinking and fidgeting your fingers.
“I can hear your thoughts love” You chuckle
“ Don’ worry baby” he hums and pauses the tv show
“Tell me what your earworm is eating inside” you giggle and sigh feeling uncertain as if you should let your overthinking got the best in you, with a smile you gaze upon him from his chest and shake your head in deny
He didn't push you any further, knowing that it was something that you'll tell him, eventually, or he thought you would.
After classes, Jungkook has boxing training. He invites you over, and since you have to do your routine, you do attend.
After his instructor gives a few shouting with instructions you notice a girl, no more taller than you with a beautiful long hair in a high ponytail asking something to your boyfriend and then pointing out her gloves, he gaze at you, as expecting for approval and you shrug your elbows, the girl suddenly has a pout and she walks away, with her gloves in hand, the rejection gave you a wave of confidence.
You see him as his hands punch the punching bag, and the way his muscles flexes and how the drip of sweat fall of his forehead as his long black hair sticks to his neck, barely letting him see in front of him, he looks even feral and something in your core makes your heart pounding heavy in your heart and you're sure that if you were alone you'll definitely pull his shorts off of him and make him cum undone by your mouth. He gazes at you, noticing the way you're looking at him, and he grins in satisfaction as he continues to release a punch here and there.
His class finishes, and then the instructor tells everyone to jump with the rope, and you're sure you're about to implosion if his body keeps moving like that in front of you. The class is over now and he approaches you, holding your waist, all full of sweat yet still smelling clean and so masculine, he pulls you to his warm body and kisses you softly but hungry, as if he had been deprived of you for so long.
“If you continue to drool for me in that way i dunno if I'll be able to let you finish your workout” you giggle as he pulls away from you
The rest of your workout continues smoothly, at the end the usual chit chat as he mentions the girl with the gloves, she wanted help, but he told her very politely he was busy already, when you get home you realize you're alone, you invite him over, and soon you're both walking towards your room. He sees the swings of your hips and the way the fabric hugs your body, once inside he pulls you to his body, kissing you hungrily as you cave in to his strokes in your body and the way his warm close to yours makes you a wombling mess.
He's taking off your clothes, in between wet kisses and gasps from feeling the cold air.
He's golding your body, not stepping away from the door, each cloth already on the floor and he's kissing his way down to your neck, his hand caresses your breasts and you're moaning his name as you're trembling as your aching pussy feels neglected.
“Such a needy slut” you moan his name and he kneel in front of you, looking up and you gasp as he licks the nub of nerves, you loll your head back and he hums and you feel the vibration in your cunt, soon you have one digit into your pussy and its becoming really hard for you to stay standing up, his hands maintain your legs in place and your hand is making swirls into his long locks.
Hes sucking and licking, bullying your pussy with two fingers now and you can't do more than moan and gasp saying his name as a prayer.
“Look at you, all tear apart for me” he grins and continues his pace as you feel yourself gettin closer to your orgasm
“ ‘m coming Jungkook! oh… fuck!” your body trembles and he keeps you in place as he sucks and licks the milky secretion leaving your slutty hole.
“C’mon baby I haven't even fucked you yet” he helps you get in fours at the edge of the bed, you keep your ass up and your face is buried in your bed, at the sight Jungkook discharges his sweatpants and boxers and he can't seem to focus, he begins to slide his tip onto your folds, and he adores the way you're moaning, he loves the sight of your dripping and bullied cunt.
He lets out a groan as he buries himself into your cunt, you gasp and he holds your hips as he begins to thrust into you
“I know you were jealous of that girl at the gym…” he groans again as his thrust become slower and he leaves a trail of kisses onto your back. “But I can only think of you, and your slutty little hole all tight and pretty for me” you moan as his pace quickens he pulls you and now you're holding with your hands as he cups your breasts with one hand and he adores to watch them bounce.
He leaves wet kisses onto your neck and you're with nothing on your mind as one of his hands goes to your clit, the fact that he's doing you raw and that his soft thumb is massaging your clit in circles is making you more that a mess, all dumb for him, only and ever him
“Jungkook! ‘m close so close!” you shout and moan as your orgasm hits you again.
He feels the way your body trembles and the way your cunt is almost sucking him in it makes him cum with a guttural sound, he moans your name and his cum and your own is dripping as he slips out of your cunt.
You let your body fall in your bed as he leaves to your personal bathroom, you close your eyes, sigh in blissfulness and when you open your eyes again you notice him with a towel, cleaning the mixture of fluids.
He smiles and you do too.
“I went raw, I'm sorry” you shake your head in deny
“No worries, I'm on the pill” he kneels and you giggle
“Why didn't you… told me sooner” you chuckle and he does too as his ears and cheeks turn crimson
“How can you call me a slut in a moment and the other your flushing for cumming inside of me” he laughs as he sees you grabbing your clothes
“Well you know”
After getting dressed, you cuddle, he caresses your hair and leaves soft pecks at your temple.
“You know I was afraid you'd leave me when we started classes” he looks confused
“Why 's that?” you chuckle
“Well, you're very popular, and good looking, and your body is like a dream come true I mean, I didn't really thought you were going to still be with…me” he listens to you, and nods understanding your words
“I've waited so long to be with you, and I wouldn't hurt you, that's a promise” he kisses you, softly as you open your mouth and with your tongue open your way to his
“I promise we'll be together as long as you allow me”
After that statement, you knew he could be the partner you'll like to maintain for the rest of your life, and who knows, maybe you would.
<<before
masterlist
©️bangytell, please do not copy or steal my work. Any translation can’t be done. This is the only way to read it.
#bts fanfic#bts imagines#bts scenarios#bts drabble#bts maknae line#jungkook smut#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook
821 notes
·
View notes
Text
my english love affair
cw: MDNI+18, f!reader, strangers to lovers, soulmates au, fluff, smut, maybe slight angst? depends on how you see it lol, fingering (f), penetration, soft dirty talk, a lot (like a lot) of kissing and sharing long gazes, whipped lando again bc im obsessed sorry.
now playing: english love affair by 5sos, let me by zayn.
notes: omg this took so long 😭 i'm not really confident abt my smut, i feel like i'm writing fluff way better but i hope you like it!! i might write a part 2, let me know if you like this one! enjoy🤍
requested by anon | requests open!
______________________________________________
“when the lights go out, she's all i ever think, i can't forget my english love affair, today i'm seven thousand miles away”
the thought of finally going back to his f1 driver life fills lando with excitement. sure, lando loves england — it's his home, after all. but nothing can compare to the rush he feels when he's in an f1 car, traveling all around the world and meeting his fans.
for his last night town, lando's friends convinced him to hit the club. normally, he prefers staying in to rest before the start of the season but a little fun doesn't hurts, right? he won't have much time to do it during the grand prix.
despite his fame, lando still gets surprised when someone recognizes him, especially at the club. he knows he's known for his looks, and he's aware of the attention from admirers, but it still catches him off guard in real life. sometimes, the attention can be overwhelming, especially when he just wants to have a good time with his friends and ends up with some overly clingy girls.
lando decides to excuse himself, seeking some fresh air. the pressure of the coming season is getting to him, and the situation doesn't help. he finds a quiet spot with a few people smoking and making out, leans against the wall, and closes his eyes for a moment, letting out a relieved sigh.
suddenly, a voice startles him from his thoughts, "did your friends force you to come here too?" his head jerks towards you, and you're standing beside him, out of nowhere. he takes time to answer, surprised by your unexpected presence. after realizing that he left you without any response, he clears his throat, a bit confused, "nah, just needed some fresh air" he mumbles, a small smile forming on his lips. you chuckle slightly, and comment "not surprised, having so many girls fawning over you must be exhausting", there's a small hint of tease in your voice that makes lando's smile grows.
finally, as he turns to study your features under the soft glow of the night lights, lando finds himself entranced by your captivating beauty, the grace of your features leaving an indelible impression on him. he can't help but get lost in your eyes shining in the dim illumination, making it difficult for him to look away. it takes him a good minute to quickly look away, thanking the night for hiding his rosé cheeks.
he gazes at the sky, trying to think of something to say that doesn't sound awkward — and also trying to get his shit together. he suddenly feels the need to make a good impression. "i mean, it's not that i don't appreciate the attention, but wow, they can be quite persistent."
his hands find their way into the pockets of his jacket, and his eyes avoid meeting yours, fearing he might get lost in them again. "yeah, i know. they're my friends," you say with a small chuckle, not because he's making fun of them, but more because of the use of the term 'friends.'
lando's eyes widen, and he turns to you, 'i'm sorry, i didn't mean to-' but he stops himself, looking down, feeling too embarrassed to find the right words. you laugh softly and move closer to him, your shoulders brushing and lando can feel his body tense up due to the closeness.
"hey, it's okay. i don't really consider them my friends, anyway," you say nonchalantly and lando lets out a sigh of relief, a smile slowly spreading on his face. "wow, that's nice for them", you both laugh and lando doesn't miss the way you subtly lean into him, your shoulders finally touching. he turns his head away from you, clearing his throat once more, trying to control the warmth spreading through his body.
"hey", you suddenly call out after a minute of tranquil silence and lando dares to meet your gaze, instantly regretting when he's captivated by your radiant eyes. he finds himself unable to look away and you both share an intense, unspoken connection, as if you've known each other for years. everything feels perfectly right at this moment.
"wanna get out of here?" you finally suggest, your words barely more than a whisper, your focus entirely on lando's mesmerizing eyes. you take his hand, both fitting perfectly like two puzzle pieces and you let him drag you in the dark streets.
after a walk filled with stolen gaze and silly conversations, you found yourself on lando's couch, engrossed in his f1 souvenirs and you have never felt so much passion, feeling your heart soften every time your see that sparkles in his eyes. lando never thought that his night will end up like this. sure, he might ended up with a girl from the club like he usually do, but this time was different. he never really experienced this; having sweet and innocent conversations with a stranger from a club. the atmosphere is tranquil yet there's a subtle tension in the air.
lando couldn't help but be his flirty self, playfully teasing you from time to time. however, your responses makes him somewhat nervous — it's a new sensation to him, having a girl making him feel this way. perhaps it's the way you gazes at him with patience and attention, your lovely smile that you share generously with him or how closely you listen to his random f1 stories. lando and you end up scrolling through photos in his phone, with him recounting the stories behind each one. he couldn't help but feel his heart melt your reactions; your smiles, your laughs, and your curiosity as you ask for more details and share your own anecdotes.
a soothing silence descended, and the two of you sit beside each other, thighs and shoulders lightly touching. lando struggles to contain the fluttering feeling in his stomach when you turn to look at him. he dares to meet your gaze, trying to focus on your eyes rather than your enticing lips. lost in each other eyes, you can't tear your gazes away. a brand new emotion envelops both of you, one that's strangely familiar yet undeniably unique, as though destiny has brought you together in this very moment and lando can't help but wonder if soulmates might actually exist.
you finally speak, after what feels like an eternity, in a soft voice, "you can kiss me, lando", you whisper like it's a secret. lando stomach tighten and he don't even take the time to answer, gently placing his hand on your cheek to pull you for a shy kiss. your lips discover each other, timidly and your hands instinctively slides around his neck to pull him closer.
you can't seem to get enough of each other, savoring every moment as you explore each other's mouths. lando's hand venture on your hips, and the chill of his touch sends shivers down your spine, as you suppress a soft moan in your throat. the kiss grows more intense, both of you yearning for more. without the need for words, you share an unspoken understanding of each other's needs, as if you've been intimately connected for ages. out of breath, you both finally pull away, foreheads touching, sharing a playful gaze, giggling and blushing like teenagers experiencing their very first kiss.
after one last sweet peck on the lips, lando takes your hand and stands, guiding you towards the bedroom, careful not to stumble due to both your impatience and the lingering dizziness of that passionate kiss.
not wasting time, he gently guides you onto the bed, positioning himself on top of you. he can't resist the urge to pause and admire you, your eyes shimmering in the soft glow of the dim lights. before he gets lost in that gaze, his eyes roam to study every detail of your face, causing you to blush and squirm beneath him. your arms tighten around his neck, and you chuckle, bringing lando back to the present. "like what you see?" you whisper, stealing a smile from him as he draws closer, his lips teasingly brushing against yours. "oh, absolutely," he murmurs before capturing your lips in a kiss. this time, it feels different; electrifying.
lando's hands slips, beneath your dress, and this time a whimper escapes your lips, making lando smirk through the kiss. his hands dares to explore the skin of your thighs, creating an unusual feeling in your stomach — and making your pussy slightly throb. your fingers finds their way into his curls, gripping onto them as the kiss becomes messier; your tongues dancing together.
"just take it off already" you huff and puff, seeing lando struggling and he lets out a chuckle "damn, someone is impatient", he says, teasing you, before finally taking your dress off. his eyes travel your body, and you've never felt so vulnerable, your cheeks burning. lando let out an unwanted groan, completely loving the view and he stares a bit too long until you pull him for another kiss to put him out of his thoughts. he takes a moment to kiss you back and it's your turn to slide your hands beneath his shirt, playing with the lines of his abdomen, making him moan softly against your lips.
after a good minute of kissing and touching, you finally take off his shirt and his pants, on the way, leaving you both in your underwear. lando leaves kisses along your jawline, going down to your chest, his hand sliding in your back to unbutton your bra and the way your boobs bounce out of it makes lando groan, feeling his erection grows. your grip on his hair gets tighter as you watch him play with your nipples, flicking it and licking it and the view drives you crazy.
you moan his name softly, pulling on his hair to make him look at you and you share a long stare, full of lust, both craving for more. you pull him for a sloppy kiss, trying to show how impatient you are and lando gets the message, pulling down your panties and getting rid of his boxers.
lando's mouth leaves yours and is replaced by his fingers, stealing a whimper from you. your eyes meets his as you suck on his fingers and, if they could, his eyes would burn holes into yours. lando found himself getting more and more impatient, the way you suck on his fingers with that irresistible look making it harder for him to contain it.
pulling out his fingers out of your mouth and without leaving your eyes for a second, his two fingers found your hole, slipping gently in it and you throw instinctively your head backwards, a moan escaping your mouth. lando take a good look at you in that position before taking the opportunity to leave kisses on your exposed neck, fighting the urge to suck on it to not leave marks, not wanting to overstep your boundaries.
"feeling okay?" he whispers softly, his breath hitting your skin, making it difficult for you to fight the whimpers escaping your mouth. lando takes a minute to look at you, to make sure that you don't feel any pain or discomfort.
"mmh'yes, you can move, please oh my god" you desperately says and lando can't help but pull you for another messy kiss. his fingers start moving in you, stretching your walls and you become a moaning mess, your eyes closing and lando takes advantage of it to admire you, his moves getting faster and faster.
"are you close, princess?" he murmurs close to your lips, feeling your body trembling and hearing the way your moans gets louder. you can only shake your head; feeling the bottom of your stomach getting warmer and the nickame almost make you choke on your moans. lando slows down to make scissors movements, his thumb rubbing your clit to help you reach your climax. he can't take off his eyes of you, inspecting every aspect of your face; the way your face crunches and your mouth is slightly open to let multiple sounds out of it. he could almost come just by this sight, his own crotch getting bigger.
with a loud and long moan, you finally climax, arching your back and lando plant soft pecks on your neck, whispering sweet words to you and telling you how good you're doing. breathless, you absently stroke his hair and close your eyes for a moment trying to calm the beat of your heart but lando makes it hard; his hands traveling your body and his lips attached to the skin of your neck.
the sudden emptiness when lando pulls out his fingers make you whimper and he lift his head to meet your gaze — he lost count of how many times he got lost in your eyes tonight. your hand make its way to his cock and the sudden touch makes lando slightly startle, a groan leaving his mouth. before you start stroking it, his hand comes to stop you immediately and you look at him, confused and with a hint of worry; silently asking him if you did something wrong.
"wanna fuck you now or i might go crazy", he says, almost whimpering and you slightly laugh, pulling his face closer to yours. "someone is impatient huh", you tease, a small smirk forming on your lips and he can't help but mirror that smirk. "how can i not when you look at me like that?" he takes your bottom lip between his teeth before kissing you again, his body getting closer and his cock brushing on your pussy makes you both moan through the kiss. you take his dick, once again, in your hand to guide it through your hole this time. and slowly, he penetrates you, a long groan escaping his lips at how tight you feel around him and you break the kiss to moan loudly.
"so fucking tight, baby, just for me", he mumbles close to your lips and you can't even answer, too overwhelmed by the way he's filling you — and his dirty words. when you finally adjust, he doesn't waste any minutes and start moving. you both moan in unison, holding into each other like your life depends on it. he watches you go crazy over his cock; the way your eyes gets watery, the way you hold into the sheets — your other hand too busy pulling his hair —, the way you can't control the continuous moans, his name slipping out of your mouth from time to time and encouraging him to go deeper into you. and he does go deeper, slowing down the pace to thrust into you as deep as he can, reaching your sensitive spot.
"right here? like that, baby?" he moans, feeling you tightening around him. his voice makes it harder for you to hold your growing orgasm. your hand leaves the sheets to hold onto his shoulder, your nails crawling into his skin. lando suddenly feels the urge to look at you in the eyes — maybe because his orgasm is getting close too. his hand finds a way to your neck, his fingers wrapping around it gently "look at me, angel", he says in a husky voice that could make you come at any moment. struggling to keep your eyes open, you try your best to hold his gaze, the way he's looking at you making you insane.
his thrusts gets faster and you can't control the sounds escaping from your mouth anymore. you look away for a moment, too overwhelmed and lando's hand travels to your face, cupping it gently to keep it straight "eyes on me, love". you obey, meeting his gaze and it's all too much for you.
you don't even have to use words for lando to understand that you're getting close, the way your eyes gets watery and your body shakes is enough. with his hand going back to your throat, lando accompany you into your orgasm, enjoying the way you scream his name and you manage to hold his gaze. his own orgasm comes a few minutes after yours and he makes sure to pull out before ejaculating, his groans echoing in the room. he immediately falls besides you and you both just stay like this: his leg over yours, your hand still in his hair as you try to catch your breath. lando uses his last drops of strength to grab a tissue from the nightstand and clean his fresh cum on your stomach.
he pulls you close again, linking your legs together and letting you play with his hair. the silence is so peaceful; the warm of your bodies making you both relax immediately. a smile unconsciously forms on lando's lips at the sight of your tired face, your eyes shining in the almost dark atmosphere of the night. you look back at him, smiling back and giggling, making lando raise an eyebrow in confusion.
"what's so funny?" he says, fighting the smile growing on his lips. "i just slept with the lando norris", you tease and lando groans, hiding his face in his arm. "i knew you were a fan!" he replies playfully, playing along. you laugh in sync and lando's heart feels at peace; all the worries about the incoming season completely forgotten. your hand gently plays with his curls as you absently stare at the ceiling, an unbeatable smile on your face.
lando, on the other side, can't take his eyes off you, watching you slowly fall asleep and enjoying your fingers in his hair. and just before you completely close your eyes, you turn to him, offering him a last kiss; so tender and passionate that your hearts both might burst out of your chests. pulling out, lando watches you fall asleep, not fighting the smile on his face anymore.
he usually struggles to sleep before an important day but this time, his mind is only filled with you and this night spent by your side. and just like that, it's lando's turn to meet the sandman.
-
with a groan, lando struggles to reach and silence the blaring alarm. the morning sunlight aggressively shines through the curtain, making him shield his face with his arm, staying in half asleep state for a minute as he gradually gets out of it.
then it suddenly hits him; you're no longer beside him.
lando suddenly starts to panic, jolting him into full wakefulness. he springs out of the bed and desperately search for any signs of you in every room of his apartment but you're nowhere to be found. he mutters curses under his breath, passing a hand to his messy hair — the thought of you messing his hair last night making him even more frustrated. defeated, he returns to the bedroom, his gaze falling on the tousled sheets where everything happened. as lando realizes that he didn't even ask for your name, frustration festered within him, causing him to clench his hair.
however, amidst his self reproach, a small piece of paper on the nightstand catch his attention, and he immediately rushes to it.
"we will meet again, i promise. you're going to kill it, lovely boy. y/n, x"
lando can't even fight the smile creeping on his lips, his heart softening — it was beating way too fast just by the thought of not even knowing your name. he sinks back onto the bed, your smell immediately hitting him and making him even happier. he reads those few words repeatedly and his hands falls onto his chest, holding the paper close to his heart as he whispers your name again and again, savoring its melodious sound. lando can't help but tell himself that soulmates might exist.
"i am going to kill it,", lando murmured to himself, a foolish grin etching on his face.
______________________________________________
part 2?:p join the tag list here!
masterlist
#lando norris x reader#lando norris#f1 x reader#f1#f1 fluff#f1 imagine#f1 angst#f1 smut#lando norris smut#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagine#lando norris drabble#lando norris fanfic
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Saved Again-Sanji x Fem Reader (One Piece Netflix)
Summary: You've been Luffy's friend for years. Being the first member to join Luffy's crew, together they are off to become pirates,.later on a certain chef has his eyes on you. And a fond memory of you and a boy after a shipwreck comes to mind when arriving at the Baratie.
(A/N: I'm so excited for the One Piece live action do I decided to write this!! I'll start on a Part 2 once the series is released. I absolutely love Sanji and he's my favorite of the Straw Hats. I relate to him a lot too since I was training to become a chef as well…anyways the one shot might be slightly changed once I watch the series.)
(A/N: Oh and also the reader is often confused as a boy but Nami and Sanji know she's a girl.)
"That's why I'm gonna be king of the pirates!!" Luffy exclaimed enthusiastically, even though we were in the middle of nowhere.
I turned around and frowned looking at him being too cheery and loud as usual. "Can you be any louder?' I glare before pulling my head out of the small boat we were in and I continued to throw up out into the ocean.
I heard a hum coming from Luffy and saw him tilting his head a bit. "Are you sure you're okay?"
This is the downside of wanting to become a pirate and sail across the Grand Line. Well, not many people get sea sick and start to pour their guts out.
I wipe the sweat off my forehead and sighed. "If only Coby didn't accept in becoming a Marine. He would've maybe given me some of the medicine he was carrying."
"He did offer some yet you said you'd be alright without it." Luffy reminds me making me groan.
"Don't make me throw up on you." I warn.
"Will you two shut up already?" I glared and looked back at the green haired man who I forgot had joined us.
"Huh? Why don't you make me, Zoro? Our friend here might be dying." Luffy said patting my back a bit too rough.
Zoro looked at us with a bored expression on his face and went back to closing his eyes. "You guys are insufferable, would've been nicer if I was still tied up."
I point and glared at him. "You should be thankful that we saved your ass."
"Luffy was the one who did. You're too weak to save anyone anyway, kid."
"I'm not a kid! I'm older than you think believe it or not!!" I shout getting defensive and forgetting that I had be throwing up.
"Then why are you acting like a kid?!"
"Guys will you stop arguing for once?" Luffy said stepping between us and calming Zoro as well when we saw an island up ahead.
Idiots are they really dumb and don't know I am secretly a girl. The reason why I like to crossdress if for fun, but mostly because I've seen the way pirates who are men are more respected.
I once had cut my hair short but decided to let it grow and use a wig instead, besides being in disguise had helped me with stealing from people.
Luffy with his devil fruit power stretched all the way until his feet hit the sand and he looked around in enthusiasm.
"Wow this island seems so cool! But why is it so quiet?!" He asked loudly.
"Maybe this is an island inhabited with ghosts." I muttered and heard Zoro scoff and began to grab his swords when the boat hit the sand below us.
Zoro jumped off of the boat and began to follow Luffy. "Hey, (Y/N). Are you coming or staying?"
I raised my head and tilted my head looking at Luffy. "You guys can go on ahead. I'll catch up with you."
He nodded and I saw both guys beginning to walk further into the island. Slowly I got up on my feet and jumped out of the boat as well. I was deep in my thoughts imagining what it will be like to travel across the world and get to know other famous pirates.
Luffy's dream has always been to become king of the pirates and his number 1 person he's always looked up to was Shanks, maybe Gold D. Roger in second place.
As for me..I really don't have a dream. I've just been following Luffy around. I don't have a family. Shanks was the one who raised me along with Luffy, I came along later in the picture and don't have any memories of my past, only a few glimpses here and there but maybe it's just me reliving someone else's dream.
"So he's also a devil fruit user?"
I stopped walking and ran to hide behind a building and I looked over and saw a group of pirates, my eyes were set on the one between all of them. Buggy the clown. I've seen his Wanted poster.. wait!
My eyes widened and then I glared when I spotted Luffy in a cage. Are you serious?! He got caught..huh? I looked and saw someone else with them too, a red headed girl.
Where is Zoro anyways?
I frowned even more when I saw he and Luffy were caught. God damn it. It's up to me now, now all I gotta do is find out if this girl is an enemy of ally.
I got out of my hiding place and prepared to face the gang of pirate clowns…
"Hang on!!"
Someone shouted and tried to reach for my hands but I was pulled away by the harsh tides of the sea. My eyes and lungs began to sting, I felt like it was the end for me. Just a few minutes ago I was with my family, are they dead? Will I die as well and meet them again?
I couldn't swim so I felt myself sinking lower into the dark cold sea. I wanted to cry but couldn't and right when I was ready accept my death I felt someone grab onto me and I was being pulled up again.
I gasped along with the person who had saved me. A man about the same age as my dad saved me, I continued to gasp and began to cough up the salty water I had in my lungs.
The sky was dark with clouds covering the sky, it was heavily raining with thunder.
"Don't die just yet kid! Hold onto this." The man exclaimed.
The man could swim with ease and he had placed me on top of a wooden piece of what I assumed was part of the ship that had exploded. I looked to my right and saw a boy my age, with blonde hair and green eyes, his eyes seemed scared as well.
Are we the only survivors?
My answer was clear the more we got away from the shipwreck and landed on an island. The man easily picked us up and placed us on his shoulder, but the more he continued to walk the more I felt he was struggling, it wasn't until we made it inside a cave that I realized he lost his leg.
I was about to comment on it but didn't when the man seemed angry at something. The boy and I exchanged looks and didn't say a word, we only saw the man lighting up a small fire place as we continued to hear thunder and lightning.
I don't know who this man is, this boy surely isn't his son…mom..dad…my eyes began to sting and I began to cry out loudly with tears running down my face along with a runny nose.
The man didn't say anything and the little boy seemed to stiffen and I saw a few tears forming in his eyes as well and he began to silently cry…
By the next morning the man, the pirate who saved us said he wanted to be alone so he left the boy and I a large bag of food. "We refuse to eat this because you're a pirate and pirates are bad people!!" The boy had shouted earlier.
The man said almost nothing and left me alone with the boy. The boy and I looked at each other and we both didn't say a word about the man.
"Umm do you think we can make a boat somehow and leave the island?" I quietly asked nervous and shy to ask this stranger for help.
"Does it look like we have a way out of this island?! The boy shouted glaring at me. "What would a girl know about sailing anyways?"
I began to cry again and I did the first thing that came to my mind, and I had punched him. "All I want is to see my parents again!"
The boy seemed surprised by my action and began to hold onto his swollen cheek. "H-hey don't cry. You're gonna make me cry again!"
It was too late. He was crying again….
It had been many days until the three of us were rescued. An odd boat with some friendly men were the one who saved us, the man who rescued the boys and us took the boy in as his own in a way, and he was about to send me off to live a normal life with someone who was willing to raise me.
The man somehow got a nice dress for me to wear, as a last send-off he had done a dessert for me. A strawberry cake I came to love at first bite.
He along with the men on the ship all were outside ready to say their goodbyes to me. I even saw a man or two begin to cry.
"I always wanted a small girl."
"You can't even feed yourself properly how are you supposed to raise a kid." I heard one of them say to another.
"You ready, kid?" I heard the man ask making me turn to look at him. I shook my head and the man sighed and patted my head once. "You'll soon understand why I'm sending you off. You'll have a proper life."
My eyes wandered over to the man and over to the small boy I was saved with. The boy stiffened when I looked at him, and I saw his pale cheeks turn to a pink color.
"I-I…" I didn't know exactly what to say, that's until he spoke up.
"I d-do hope you enjoyed the cake I made with help! Next time if we meet again I'll bake you a whole lot more..also…if we meet again I'll make you my wife!!" He exclaimed.
The men behind the boy groaned and one of them lightly hit his head. "That's no way of a send-off!"
I shyly smiled at all of them and the boy….
"Usopp!! Nami!! Are we there yet?!"
"How many times do we have to say, no!!"
I squinted my eyes when I opened them. "That was a strange dream." I muttered to myself and glared at the three who woke me up.
Few days have gone by since he fought Buggy and his crew along with a few more pirates. Usopp was the new crew member. He's a bit odd and a scaredy cat but he means well. If it wasn't for him. Luffy wouldn't have his new and proper ship, officially presenting himself as a pirate.
The sailing ship was huge and fitted with us do well. Luffy named it the Going Merry. A fitting name for a ship.
I looked to my left and saw Zoro fast asleep, I felt envious that he could sleep through this much talking and noise. I made sure my wig was still in place and I got up to join Nami up front. At least it's nice to have another girl around.
"So…you don't have trouble with sharing a room filled with guys?" I asked and saw Nami giving me an odd bur serious look.
"No?" She squinted her eyes looking at me and looked back at the tides.
Weird…It's a shame I can't talk about girl things with her.
Luffy said he was searching for the last member to our team. Luffy is Captain, we have a navigator..well kinda that being Nami, the main fighter being Zoro, Usopp as the sniper and I fix anything on the ship
Since none of us are cooks. Luffy suggested on finding a chef. I offered to be the one to fill everyone's stomach, but everything I cook always ends up burnt.
The rest of us began to get things done on the ship until a fight began with another ship and the Going Merry crashed into a ship. My mouth fell open when we crashed and accidently directed a cannon ball into the ship that wasn't even attacking us.
"Crap…Luffy!" I shouted and saw him smiling shamefully.
All of us walked closer to the deck and saw the great damage the other ship received. "We better head in there and talk to the person in charge. And you are going to apologize." I said grabbing onto Luffy's straw hat and he quickly grabbed it back and placed it on his head.
He said nothing and began to follow us. We got onto the other ship and read the ships name, The Baratie.
I looked around and this seemed familiar. "You okay?" Nami stopped and asked glancing back at me.
"Yeah.. everything's fine." I said still looking around and ran over to her side and began to follow the rest of the crew.
We all entered the ship and wow was it beautiful and extremely fancy. "Wow..this is something else. It doesn't feel like we're in the middle of the sea." I said in awe and stared around.
Everything looked so expensive. I saw people around sharing their meals and couples smiling at each other and drinking fancy wine. Not to mention the smell, I wonder how the food must taste!
I was practically drooling when I saw a huge meal in a table. Nami had grabbed the back of my clothes and dragged me away from a couple who was staring at me weirded out.
"Get a hold of yourself, (Y/N)." Nami muttered and went to sit down on an empty table.
I nodded at myself then went back to checking the place out. This seems so familiar…I started to walk around and peeked over and saw many chefs cooking the meals and they seemed to make it so easy.
"I have an order for a large plate of seafood rice, potato pallie and medium sized bowl of sea pork soup. I need it done in less than 10 minutes!" My mouth began to water even more.
"All have it done in 5." Someone said on the other side with a British accent.
"(Y/N)!" Someone hissed my name and I quickly went over to sit next to Nami and Zoro. Luffy came in as well while we sat down and patiently waited to talk to someone.
I had excused myself after waiting for a bit and went to the bathroom. When I returned I saw Nami still sitting down and she raised an eyebrow looking not pleased when a man began walking towards her.
I felt my heart race when I saw a tall figure standing just a few inches away from her. A handsome man with blonde hair with one of his eyes being a bit hidden by it. He was wearing a dark suit with a blue and white striped shirt under it with a black tie and matching dress pants.
"Would the lady like something sweet?" I saw a smirk spread across his face and Nami just stared at him and rolled her eyes.
Who is he?? And does he know Nami? The man was clearly flirting with her.
"You gotta be joking." I heard Nami ssy. She then turned to look at me.
I didn't know what to do or say. I simply stared at her confused then looked to see the man look at me, he glanced for a second then once again and was now looking directly at me. He immediately walked away from Nami and began to walk towards me.
I began to take a few steps back and I gasped when he took hold of my hand with both of his hands and saw him get down on one knee.
"You are the most gorgeous being I've laid my eyes on. A sight no other I've come across in the Grand Line.."
Thank goodness Nami couldn't listen but it was quiet clear to anyone that this man was flirting with me.
"Y-You've got it all wrong!" I said trying to pull back and felt my cheeks turning red. I can't let anyone know at the moment that I was crossdressing as a guy!!
"I'm never wrong. My eyes never fail when I see a beautiful lady as yourself."
If I weren't in this situation I would be falling on my knees. He's so cute and handsome! My lips began to quiver and I felt my entire body freeze. I've never met a man who shameless at flirting with a stranger.
The man rose up to his feet now towering me and smiling down at me. "I-I…"
He smiled and Introduced himself. "My name is Sanji."
#netflix#anime#one piece#one piece netflix#one piece live action#vinsmoke sanji#one piece sanji#sanji x reader#one piece x reader#taz skylar#one piece netflix x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiiiii I've been scrolling to much in Tumblr thankful that I found ur acc, got hooked with ur writing when I read the jing yuan fic <333
so may i request dr. Ratio or sunday with a gojo m reader 👀, maybe enemies to lovers (anything is fine ^^) , the plot is yours to freely choose <33
Charm You Later~
Sunday | M. Reader as Satoru Gojo [Jujutsu Kaisen]
----------
"I hate that man I hate that man! …but oh cara mia..how I love him~"
----------
Oh how he hated that man. He would always waltz towards him and act all buddy-buddy, and he'll do it with that cheeky grin. How annoying.
And that voice. Oh how he dreaded it. Hearing it hurts his ears.
Just who does he think he is? Getting all chummy with him. A member of The Family! Just who does he think he is?! Another thing he doesn't understand.. is how Robin seems to be fond of him. How could his sister like someone like him? He's a complete man child!
When he asked about it, her response was. "He just seems to be a fun person to be around."
Fun? Him? He's more like a headache! An annoying headache!
Especially that one time...
.
.
.
.
.
The door of the theater bursts open, revealing a tall man wearing sunglasses. He casually walks towards a specific seat, his hands in his pockets and a cheeky grin on his handsome face. Acting like he owns the place.
Some were swooned by the handsome man, some were whispering amongst each other, some looked at him with annoyance.
Just who does he think he is?
"Hey! Sunday!" He called out casually, raising a hand as if his tall figure and "grand entrance" didn't already attract anyone in the theater.
----------
How humiliating! To have someone as brash as him to call out to him like that in front of everyone! Sunday swears he wanted to kill him right then and there.
"What's with that look~"
"Shut up."
"Hey I was just asking an innocent question.."
The man pouts as Sunday turned his back against him. How grumpy.. why can't he just lighten up a little? A dream is supposed to be sweet, not bitter. "Come on~" Letting out a sigh, Sunday mumbled something under his breath before speaking up. "That's enough, [Name], please leave."
"Come on Sunday~ Why must you act this way to me.." [Name] teased as he continues to pout at Sunday for being a "meanie" surely he hasn't done anything bad, right? [Name] is positive he hasn't done anything that might result in such a behavior from Sunday. So.. he decided to continue with his teasing.
The other's teasing will always annoy Sunday to no end. He always acts so cheery, plus that cheeky, weirdly adorable grin on his face that doesn't seem to be leaving him anytime soon. He's looking down on him. Of course he is! His tone, no matter how friendly it is, still has that faint hint of arrogance in it. The way he acted is just so.. condescending.
Then again.. what did you expect from someone who always claims he's the strongest.
"Is it something I did? Hey, Sunday." [Name] wrapped his arms around his shoulders, leaning down a little to do so. "Sunday, tell me!" Poking the man's cheek as he kept pestering him like a child wanting their parents attention. With a groan Sunday slapped the man's finger with his wing. "Stop that."
[Name] pouts before finally leaving Sunday alone.
Finally.. some peace and quiet..
----------
Death comes for us all. A common knowledge. And yet, the moment that.. thing attacked..
He can't help but feel.. off..
The sight of that thing attacking him.
How the self proclaimed "Strongest" struggles in the face of Death. Then again.. no one could escape Death itself. But still.. he can't help but feel a wave of dread at the sight of it. When he saw him after the incident, there was one thing that crossed his mind..
'That blank, dead-like expression doesn't suit him.'
Where's the smile that always decorated his face? Where's the captivating glow of his eyes?
"What's this?" The other asked rather blankly, a tone that doesn't suit him one bit. "..a get well soon gift." "I'm not sick."
Letting out a sigh, Sunday continues to shoved the small box toward him. "Just take it." [Name] look at Sunday from over the top of his sunglasses, eyeing him for a moment before taking the gift, mumbling a small "Thanks."
'That look doesn't suit him.' Sunday continues to think of the same thing over and over again. The glint of mischief isn't there anymore... he can't deny it anymore.. Sunday had missed the bastard's mischievousness and his playful attitude.
"What's this for anyway?" "Stop that."
Taken aback by the sudden harsh words [Name] look up from the gift and stare at Sunday. "I beg your pardon?"
Sunday? Raising his voice like that? That's unheard of.. why is he acting this way? What happened? Is this truly Sunday? Thousands of theories run through his head as [Name] tries to think of a reason for the calm and collected Sunday to lose his temper like that.
"I said 'stop that.'" He huffed crossing his arms. Yeah no, [Name] isn't taking that attitude. "What's with you all of a sudden?"
"That's supposed to be my question you idiot!" Sunday suddenly raised his voice as his temper took the best of him. "Wha—Hey!" "Just shut up and listen to me!!"
[Name] glared at the winged man. Him? Telling him to shut up? Who does he think he is? Ordering the "Strongest" like that? And where is all of this coming from? It doesn't make sense! Not with how calm and collected Sunday usual is!
The winged man grabbed the other by his collar as he's getting fed up with their little argument. But before [Name] could protest again, he was silenced by something soft placed on top of his lips. A sweet kiss.
Huh?
Did he just..?
Stunned by the kiss that came out of nowhere, [Name] looked at Sunday with wide eyes. He was not expecting that... how is he supposed to expect that coming from the person who he annoys and argues 24/7?
The two blushed as Sunday looked away for a moment before speaking up. "That look doesn't suit you."
"Could you please... give me a smile instead..?"
#x male reader#seme male reader#top male reader#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x male reader#hsr#hsr x male reader#hsr x reader#hsr sunday#sunday x reader#sunday x male reader#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jujutsu gojo
667 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
janevx
suhoe
luxaeonart
LUXAEON
zippedinlatex
zippedinlatex
old-soul-young-mind
I remember everything
toughtsofminesworld
Fezu