#he does not like heels because they pinch and are hard to walk on
Note
Had a cute scenario that I may or may not expand myself. Both Vil and Niege invite Reporter!Yuu (And Niege inviting Yuuken too) to a high class movie premiere under the pretense (at least in Vil’s case) that it was an opportunity for exclusive interviews as it’s the first movie where Niege is casted as the villain. With the big boss breathing down their neck from the fit they pulled over Champion, Yuu has to play nice. So nice that they call in for some backup from Uncle Crewel since their normal attire ain’t gonna cut it. Que the flustering and the intentionally blocking as they try to covet the image of a well-dressed Yuu (in a dress, suit, suit dress combination, whatever works) whose just hoping that their collection of idiots don’t barge in any second. Niege is definitely red as an apple with the wombo combo Yuu and Yuuken (There was no way Crewel was going to let Yuuken toddle behind Reporter looking like some common mutt).
Thank you for the ask, dear anon!
Divus Crewel sighs. “We may have to lose some of the skirts.”
Yuuken looks up, stricken. “Oh.”
One of his hands half-heartedly twitches the fabric he’d been gently swishing back and forth. “…is it because it looks bad?”
Divus scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, puppy. You’re one of the few people who can pull off a look like this—your body type means that the ballgown looks proportionate to you and your upper body without diminishing or drowning you out. If Yuu or that nervous terrier you work with tried this on, they’d end up looking like a rather unfortunate snowman. Or a meringue.”
“Hey!” Yuu’s head pops out of the dressing room while Yuuken gives a small, bashful smile. “Uncle Divvy, that’s me-ean!”
The supervillain sighs as his nibling wobbles on their red stilettos like a newborn colt. “Oh for The Seven’s sakes— heel-toe, Yuu, heel, toe.”
“I know that!”
“Then why aren’t you doing it?”
Yuuken clears his throat gently, drawing Crewel’s attention back to himself allowing Yuu to collapse onto the nearby couch and begin re-arranging the length of their dress-like waistcoat so it’s not crushed.
“No, the problem here, puppy, isn’t with you.” Crewel sniffs, tugging on the shoulders so the black suit-like upper half settles into place. “It’s with the unruly whelps.”
“Unruly whelps?” Yuuken shoots a confused look at his colleague.
“Poison Queen and his ilk have been known to sabotage any event hosted by or prominently featuring Neige LeBlanche.” Crewel says blithely, turning to fuss with the lapels of Yuu’s cropped suit jacket, brushing invisible specks off the white fabric. “So in your case, we need to take that into account.”
The cameraman in question points at himself wordlessly
“He does tend to rough you up a lot if manages to capture you, Yuuken.” Yuu says, shrugging apologetically. “He takes potshots at you too if you’re there while he’s taking me or doing a scheme or something. Even though I’ve asked him to cut it out several times…”
“Fashion is about pushing the envelope whenever we can.” Crewel says, “But there are certain practicalities we must observe if we don’t want our models and our clothes to be turned into a laughingstock. And you will not be impeded from escaping if that naughty pup attacks by one of my designs.”
“I see.” Yuuken glances down forlornly at the skirt. It’s a gradient, same as Yuu’s waistcoat, starting as a red so dark it’s almost black at the top before blossoming into crimson around the middle and scarlet at the hem. Unlike Yuu’s waistcoat, his skirts are designed to almost resemble flower petals, overlapping and intermixing in a waterfall-like cascade.
He sighs and swishes it back and forth to enjoy it while he can.
“Don’t sulk, pup.” Crewel straightens the white collar of his shirt. “We’re not losing all of them. The topmost layers will stay—we’ll just change the shape somewhat. More curved, less bell. A slit would work well so we can install a catch that you can open to release you if worst comes to worst. A white underskirt, something short enough to run easily in, that would complement the look and mean you’re not escaping in your underwear.”
Yuuken brightens. “Sounds good.”
“Though of course, that means we’ll need to give you higher heels as people will be seeing your footwear.” Divus continues.
“HA.” Yuu proclaims at the unimpressed look on their coworker’s face. “Payback!”
#twisted wonderland#twst#supervillain au#enma yuuken#twst yuuken#divus crewel#twst crewel#dr. d#twst yuu#twisted wonderland yuu#Yuuken likes how ballgowns don’t restrict his thighs#and look super cool when he turns around#he does not like heels because they pinch and are hard to walk on
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ᴄᴏᴄᴋ ʙʟᴏᴄᴋ
Pairing: Song Mingi x afab!reader
Summary: birthday presents come in all shapes and sizes…and are full of unwanted surprises just as it gets to the best part
Warnings: 18+ smut, porn w/no real plot, established relationship, big dick mingi, getting it from the b-b-back, hickeys, praise kink, pet names (princess), wooyoung cock blocking lmfao, clit smacking, dacryphilia, swearing
Authors note: this is mainly an extremely self-indulgent but the original drabble also slapped so here’s a full thing
Request: @ja3hwa, you ask, you shall receive!
Fuck, oh fuck fuck fuuuck
His strokes started painfully slow, lips leaving wet and purple blotches on her neck with small groans every time he bottomed out. She could barely keep her mouth closed with how her walls squeezed around him, like a warm embrace he couldn’t bring himself to let go of. Mingi’s grip bruised her skin, pinning her to the arm of the sofa, the fabric leaving a red rash as his skin slapped against hers with such a sinful volume that they became numb to the stinging.
“Fuck, Princess,” He groaned, his voice reverberating through his chest and forming melodies into y/n’s ears, arousal spilling onto his cock, “So fucking tight. Doin’ s’well.”
Hand snaking up her inferno chest, groping desperately at her tit before fingers wrapped around her neck, pulling her back flush against his chest, locking their lips together into a deep and languid kiss with tongues sharing saliva shamelessly in which it slithered down the corners of their mouths. Mingi’s hips rutted with a quickening pace, his other hand circling her throbbing clit. With her mind fogging with an indescribable pleasure, begs for more escaped from her throat in broken wails with every thrust hitting a deeper spot.
“Harder, Mi-Min!” her ability to speak coherently became a struggle with the way his fingers played with her clit is if it were his toy, slapping and pinching to send sparks through her nerves, “Cum on me, c-claim me!”
His fingers delved into her sopping folds, spreading the arousal over her thighs, and licking it off his fingers, only to play with her more with his strokes getting clumsy but harder.
“You like that, Princess? So fucking good f’me.” His husky voice shot straight to her core, a moan ripping through her with a hard thrust up. He let her body go, holding her face down into the sofa cushion and letting the arm keep her arse propped up for him, giving it a slap before smirking to himself. Tears pricked her eyes and ran down her cheeks, lips tugging into a smile as Mingi slammed his cock into her pussy, the golden hour glow accentuating the glistening sweat over their bodies while voices released a spectrum of high and low-pitched moans and vulgar language.
“S’fucking pretty when you cry, cry for me. Who-“ thrust, “makes you,” thrust, “feel this good?”
“Mingi! Mingi does!” she cried.
“That’s it, cum for m-“ his grumbling was interrupted by someone banging on the door, quite aggressively at that. He dropped his head, groaning in frustration and pulling out much to both their dismay. The couple looked at each other, Mingi asking for her to stay in the position while he slung his boxers and shorts back on lazily.
Opening the door with hostility, raging erection still present, he cocked an eyebrow.
“Hey, man! You weren’t picking up so I-“ Wooyoung lifted his gaze from his phone, only to cut himself off at the sight of his friend, dripping in sweat from head to toe, half-dressed and sporting a necklace of hickeys and one pissed-off expression, “-am going to let you get back to what you were doing. Sorry.” And he – wide-eyed – spun on his heel and power walked down the street.
Mingi returned to the living room, y/n still bent over the arm so prettily and still dripping from her cunt. Smirking, he stripped again, lining back up behind her.
“Just because we were interrupted doesn’t mean I’m not gonna finish the job.”
[Masterlist]
[Requests CLOSED]
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@araveninthedarknight @rainisawriter @babyboybinbin
#song mingi smut#song mingi#ateez#ateez smut#song mingi x reader#mingi#mingi x reader#ateez x reader
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Hung Up
Kinktober Day 11: CEO!Rhysand x Reader [Cockwarming]
Summary: Shhh...you need to keep quiet.
Warnings: Smut, cockwarming
Word Count: 1,087
Notes: Based off of my little blurbie from earlier this year.
_________________________________________
“Yes, Mr. Wexham, I agree. The paperwork for the merger is nearly finished. Once it’s looked over by my legal team, I’ll send it your way for review and approval,” Rhys answers into his phone, pressed tightly to his ear. His voice is a cool nonchalant one, as if he’s completely unaffected by your dripping cunt strangling his cock.
He palms at your breast, pinching your tight nipple. It makes your fingers curl into the soft wood of his desk, the pleasure shooting through you. You bite back your hiss, your whimpers as he shifts in his plush, leather seat, knocking into the bundle of nerves in your cunt. He’s shoved so far inside of you that even the press of his chest as he breathes in has you wanting to cum.
Your skirt is tight around your chest, hiked up by none other than Rhysand, your boss. His violet eyes had turned molten at the sight of you when you’d walked into his office, making sure to pull it up higher than normal before you’d entered. You’d made a show of dropping the pen you were holding, bending down to pick it up in a way that had your ass on display for him.
“Keep still,” he murmurs, muting his end of the call. His fingers drag up between your breasts, his hand a firm feeling against your throat. He’s not squeezing, but the sheer dominance of the move makes you even wetter. He had grabbed you by the hips, shoved your panties to the side and stuffed his thick cock into your tight, wet cunt without warning, forcing you onto his lap with a demand to be silent during his meeting. The promise of him bending you over his desk and fucking you until you could no longer stand in your heels went unsaid.
Throwing your head back onto his shoulder, you whimper. “Make me.”
His fingers tighten only slightly, but it makes your cunt clench around his hot cock with need. With his grip on you there’s no moving, no matter how desperately you want to. You feel like you can cry right now, heat creeping up your cheeks as tears prick your eyes. Rhys’ breath is hot in your ear as he leans closer, nipping harshly at your earlobe. “Keep saying that, darling, and I’m going to make you take my cock for hours with no release.”
You shudder against him, and he revels in his. His cock fucking hurts with how hard it is, but he can’t simply hang up on the man on the phone. They’ve been planning this for nearly a year now, and it’s down to the final stretch. If he doesn’t solidify this deal, he won’t live up to his own last name.
But the pretty little thing grinding on his cock makes it all seem so fucking miniscule.
Oh how he aches to stand, fold you over the desk and tear your clothes from your body. He wants to slap that pretty ass until it’s all glorious and red and there are tears in your eyes. He wants to claim you over and over and over again, against the windows overlooking the city, your desk right outside the door, in the middle of the fucking meeting rooms where everyone could see. He wants to spread your cheeks and fuck into you like he’s never fucked in his life. There’s a burning deep in his groin, has been there since he hired you, and he feels like it’s time to claim you as his.
You release a breathy moan in response and Rhys hooks a finger into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Saliva pools in your mouth in response, but you’re unable to swallow.
“Be quiet for me baby, or Mr. Wexham will hear. And I don’t think you want to find out what will happen if he does.” Fuck, you kind of do want to know what will happen if your body forces this moan from you.
Your fingernails bite into the muscle of his thighs as he returns to his phone call. You have no idea what they’re saying, how long it lasts because Rhysand removes his fingers from your mouth in favor of putting them between your thighs, nudging your lips apart to tease your clit in tantalizing circles.
A shudder works its way up your spine and you breathe out a shaky breath. His cock twitches in your cunt.
Hungry violet eyes pin you to your spot when you crane your neck to plead. You stay silent for him, though, while he continues his conversation, and you find yourself panting into his neck as his fingers trace your throbbing clit lazily. Too slow to really stir up anything more than the soaking arousal you feel. You need him to move faster because you need to cum so badly.
You suckle on his neck, trying to steal his attention. You can’t take it anymore, with the glares when you make a noise that’s a little too loud, a light slap to your cunt that has you gasping in answer. Your nails claw at any part of him you can reach, and your back is modeled to his strong front.
In a desperate attempt that you know will get you punished, you circle your hips. Rhys freezes behind you, stuttering halfway through his sentence. You wonder if they’re even talking about anything important right now or if they’re shooting shit and chatting about sports or something. You haven’t been listening. Maybe Rhys is pretending to be on the phone to see how long you’ll obey his demands.
“Of course, Mr. Wexham. I will see you in two weeks,” he grits and slams the phone back onto its receiver.
Rhys growls low, grabbing your hips in a firm hold as he stands, folding your body over his desk and pinning it with his own. You shudder at the cold wood pressed against your bare breasts, crying out as he shoves his cock as far as your body will take him, his hips hitting yours hitting the wood.
“Rhys—” you gasp, but he’s not going to hear you out.
“It’s Sir, to you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
His fingers find their way into your hair, pinning your head to the desk as he rises. Rhysand pulls out and your cunt clenched tight around him because you’re finally going to get what you want.
“Now you can scream until the windows shatter, darling. Have at it.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•
Kinktober Taglist: @bunnymallowo @jeannineee@icey–stars @hannzoaks @harrystylesfan2686 @azriels-shadowsinger @alysena2 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @impossibelle @glitterypirateduck @reading-moongirl
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Prompt 8 - Bodyswap AU
@wolfstarmicrofic April 8, word count 1209
CW- Cronic Illness, Child Abuse (Not described, but you know what's happened).
Sirius and Remus regularly bickered. It drove their other friends mad. Remus thought Sirius was a spoilt rich boy brat, and Sirius thought Remus put on how sick he felt because he loved the attention that came with it.
The bickering got so bad one day that Remus shoved Sirius, and Sirius shoved him back. James had to come between them and break up the fight. Remus’s eye was swelling shut, and Sirius’s lip had burst open.
“I wish you two could walk in each other’s shoes for a day. Maybe then you wouldn’t bicker so much.” They scowled at each other until it was time to go home.
Remus awoke the following morning feeling better than he’d ever felt before. He stretched, and nothing hurt. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open onto an elegantly decorated room.
“You are late for breakfast. If you are not presentable at the table in five minutes, there will be consequences!” A woman who wasn’t his mother screeched through the door.
He got up and opened the ornately carved wardrobe. The clothes inside were not his and most definitely wouldn’t fit his tall frame. He rubbed his eyes, grabbed a perfectly ironed shirt and held it up to his body. He used the mirror on the back of the door to see how it looked. He dropped it on the floor. The reflection staring back at him was not his own.
Sirius had never slept worse in his life. He felt like he had the flu. His joints ached no matter what position he slept in. The sun shone through too-thin curtains, stopping him from falling back to sleep. A gentle knock came at the door as it slowly opened.
“Good morning, darling,” A sweet honey-haired woman cooed at him. “I’ve got you tablets and some toast. When you’re ready, I’ve got porridge keeping warm for you. Don’t rush, though, my love.” She opened the curtains and planted a kiss in his hair before she walked back out, closing the door behind her.
Sirius panicked. Pills? What pills could he possibly need? He jumped out of the unfamiliar bed and rushed into the little bathroom across the hall. He stared at the boy in the mirror above the sink, higher up than he was used to. His hands came to his face, and so did the reflections. He pinched himself hard. It hurt a lot. So he wasn’t dreaming.
“Sweetheart, there’s a phone call for you.” The woman’s sweet voice called through the door.
“C-c-coming,” He stuttered as he stumbled to the door. He took the portable house phone from her and put it to his ear. “Hello?” He said into the receiver.
“Sirius!”
“Remus!”
“What the hell is going on?” They said together.
“Are you in my house?” Remus asked.
“I think so. Do you have blue striped bedding and a yellow lamp?”
“Yes! And do you have a ridiculous wardrobe and an insanely gigantic bed?”
“Does it have green bedding?”
“Yep.”
“Oh my god, Remus! What the actual.” Sirius ran his hand through his hair. His fingers came away too quickly. Remus’s hair was a lot shorter than Sirius’s.
“Your mum seems like a lot,” Remus tried to make light of it like he always did. “Apparently, I was late for breakfast. I didn’t even know that was a thing. Now, I’m meant to be self-studying. Then there’s a Latin tutor. Sirius, I don’t speak Latin!”
“Yeah, she doesn’t abide laziness. Your mum seems lovely, though. She brought me toast and some pills. What are they for?” Sirius followed Remus’s example.
“Oh, you need to take them. Believe me. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” Remus warned.
“Sirius, where have you gone?!” Sirius heard his mother’s voice over the phone and flinched.
“Remus, you need to hang up now and go do whatever it is you were meant to be doing.” He couldn’t help the touch of panic in his voice.
“What are you on about? I’m only on the phone.” Remus chuckled back at him. Sirius heard his mother’s heels click against the hardwood flooring.
“Remus,” He whispered in a shaky voice. The line went dead.
Sirius knew what was about to happen to Remus, and he wished he could take his place. He snatched up the pills off the bedside table and swallowed the lot. This he could do for Remus, at least.
Mrs Lupin beamed at him when he walked into the kitchen.
“Oh, love. You look a bit pale. Why don’t you go snuggle up on the sofa, and I’ll get you some tea? She fussed over him all day, making sure he was comfortable. He had full control over what they watched on the TV, and she never uttered the word homework. He was glad he didn’t have to do too much, as his body felt so delicate. Plus, with the bad night’s sleep, he was exhausted. “How do you feel about pizza for dinner?” She asked when it began to get late.
“Yeah, Mrs—Er, yeah, mum. That sounds perfect.” He smiled at her.
He asked to go up to his room after they’d finished eating.
“Of course, you can silly. I don’t know why you’re even asking. Oh, don’t forget to take your evening pills before you go up,” Sirius did as he was told. The stairs were hard to get up. He was out of breath before he’d gotten halfway up.
He spent the next hour doing all of Remus’s homework for him. By the end, he just got into bed and passed out.
When he woke again, it was morning. His alarm was blaring next to his head, and his emerald sheets were wrapped around him in a tight ball. He could feel the bruises. She’d proper walloped him this time. He wondered if Remus had talked back at her.
He got ready for breakfast, but before he could leave his room. Regulus came in. And for the first time in years. He hugged Sirius and hurried back out when Walburga’s shoes clacked across the hallway floor. Monday couldn’t come quickly enough.
Remus, for once, got up early and arrived at school before any of his friends. He watched the town car pull up and deposit Sirius and Regulus onto the curb.
Regulus hugged Sirius and disappeared off into the building. Sirius and Remus stared at each other. Sirius moved first and gently wrapped his arms around Remus, knowing now how much that body ached and why he needed the extra care the school gave him. Remus gripped him as tight as he could. He’d had no idea how bad Sirius had it. His parents made their lives look so perfect.
Sirius sucked in a breath when Remus squeezed against one of the bruises.
“Oh, shit, Sirius. I’m so sorry.” Remus panicked, loosening his hug.
“No, no. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Sirius knew how much effort Remus was putting into that hug.
“Aww, isn’t this sweet?” James smirked as he walked up to them. “Nice to see you hugging rather than fighting.” Sirius and Remus looked at each other, smiling happily at each other. Finally, they realised there was so much more to each other than they ever could have guessed.
#wolfstar#wolfstar microfic#wolfstar fic#wolfstar au#sirius black#remus lupin#sirius orion black#remus john lupin#james potter#peter pettigrew#walburga black#walburga's a+ parenting#hope lupin#regulus black#jegulus microfic#sirius and remus#remus and sirius#sirius x remus#remus x sirius#cw cronic illness#cw child abuse (not described but you know what's happened)#bodyswap au
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── say it back; enhypen x reader
'you don't say 'i love you' back, how do the members of enhypen respond?'
a/n: is this mostly clingy and soft enhypen? probably. is this self-indulgent? most definitely. based off of tiktoks i've seen and thought it was cute. tried switching to using more 'you' than (y/n), let me know if you like it better or if I should switch back. anyways more under the cut, thank you for reading < 3
warnings || soft and clingy enhypen, use of petnames(?)
heeseung
was supposed to leave to hang out with the other enhypen members, so he slips on his shoes and calls out for you. "bye (y/n), love you" he yells, opening the door as he waits for your to reply with your lovely voice saying those words he loves. when they don't come he stops mid step, turning his heel back into the apartment and towards your open bedroom door. pokes his head in, seeing you still nestled in bed. takes his shoes off and goes to kneel in front of your face. he knows you were talkative a few moments before when you were telling him how he looked so handsome in his outfit, so he goes to poke your nose a few times. laughing when you scrunch it in response. "i said i love you (y/n), i'll see you later" he repeats, hopeful eyes waiting for you to reply. you turn in your spot on the bed, making him frown before grinning at your playful silence. "fine, i guess you don't love me enough to bring your bubble tea order with me on the way home" he sighs, about to get up from spot before you sit up and grab his arm. "you wouldn't dare" "oh i would if you keep withholding that cute morning voice of yours saying those words i love the most" heeseung winked, crossing his arms as he waits for you to say. you blush at his comment, turning your head quickly. but you still say it back, because bubble tea is way more important that a tiktok trend.
jay
doesn't notice, smiles and waves as he leaves for the day, leaving you sitting at the kitchen table with a confused look, almost looking like that standing emoji. i mean it wasn't the first time the joke didn't deliver, so he probably didn't realize. at least, that's what you're telling yourself as you scramble to pick up your phone from its hidden position, your attempts to record a cute prank for tiktok now useless. jay does come home hours later back to you frowning, grumbling about how the couples that did the prank had funny reactions. jay tilts his head in confusion as he wraps his arms around your waist. "what's going on inside that head of yours love?" he questions, glancing over your shoulder at the tiktok they were trying to mimick. "oh is that why you wouldn't say i love you back this morning?" he questions, you nodding as you throw away your phone in exchange for returning his embrace. "ah, my slow but handsome boyfriend, i'll get my viral tiktok moment with you another time" you declare, jay laughing and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead in response.
jake
does a double take almost animatedly, eyes widening and mouth wide open in shock. "love? did you hear me?" he questioned, poking his head back in the room he left you in. "yes i did, make sure to grab the my shampoo i ran out last night!" you reply, your eyes glued to the computer screen. jake walked over, looking at you like a lost puppy with a slight frown on his features. "did you hear the other thing i said?" he asked again, you shaking your head as you met his gaze briefly before going back to the computer. it was really hard not to laugh, considering he hasn't realized yet. "nope, is everything alright?" you responded, tilting your head as you glance back at him. jake tackles you off the chair and onto the kitchen floor, his hands reach your sides to tickle and pinch them to incite your laughter. "i know you heard it, say it back" jake laughed as you pushed his hands away frantically. from that day on, you learned not to ignore his affection, at least for the sake of how ticklish you were.
sunghoon
forgets about whatever he needed to do that day, decides to annoy you enough that you'll say the three little words he wanted to hear. starts with following you around the house, crossing his arms as you continue on your day without give him much attention. proceeds to poke you repeatedly, which ends with you pushing his fingers away from your body. finally ends with him clinging to you like a koala, his tall figure slumped over yours, as he complains about how you don't love him anymore in a song-like voice. "has anyone ever told you you're annoying sunghoon" you tease, sunghoon glaring at your childishly. "clearly someone who hasn't been saying i love you back" he retorts, making you lose your initial composure and kissing his cheek. "sorry hoonie, i love you" instantly makes a smile appear on his features, feels like he's has been reawakens and spins you around in his own happiness. only for the two of you to end up on the floor after he gets dizzy, which results in you two staring at one another before laughing.
sunoo
feigns a shocked expression, watching you across the room as you continue to read your newest book as if you didn't just ignore him. he huffs as he stomps in front of you, plucking out the soft covered book and crossing his arms. "do you have anything to say?" sunoo stared at you, you only staring at him innocently as you reach for the book in his hands. sunoo proceeded to put the book over his head, squinting at you as if to say come and try it. after about thirty minutes of a impromptu staring contest, sunoo sighed and turned on his heel. "i GUESS someone doesn't love me" he complained somewhat jokingly, slowly walking away in attempts to make you feel bad. you rolled their eyes, already over the joke and hopped onto his back. sunoo yelped, especially when you started kissing his cheeks and repeatedly said how much you loved him.
jungwon
notices the phone as he comes back into the room to ask for his good-bye kisses and affections, making a funny face before kissing your cheeks. "can't get me with that prank, nice try though" he laughs, walking towards the phone and ending the recording. you crosses your arms with a huff, rolling your eyes at your failed attempt. "no fair, the others probably showed you it" you complain, tugging him back into bed and laying on top of him as a sign of protest. he shakes his head, already seeing his morning continuing here instead of the place he had to go to. "nope, pretty sure you sent it to me instead of your friend and even sent a messaged saying 'omg jungwon would totally react to this if i did it' he mimics your voice, putting air quotes around the message and smiling when you leaned down to shut him up with more kisses.
niki
also a pouty baby, but totally the type to ignore you. acts a bit chlidish but oh well. he knows what you're doing and wants to play too. cue the silent household, the enhypen guys looking at the two with worry and confusion when they sit on the otherside of the couch. this lasts 1 day at max. since niki crumbles first when he feels touch-starved, wrapping his arms around you in bed and showing you his frowning lips. "(y/n) talk to me, i know you're just not saying it on purpose" niki whined, a small smile forming on your lips as you wrap your arms around him as well. cupping his cheeks in your hands, you leave kisses on his cheeks and lips, making niki grin in satisfaction. niki connects your lips to his while holding you close, already forgetting why the two weren't speaking in the first place.
taglist: @hell1cy @wtfhyuck
likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡
#enhypen x reader#enhypen x gender neutral reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen fluff#enhypen scenarios#heeseung x reader#heeseung imagines#park jongseong x reader#jongseong x reader#jongseong imagines#jake x reader#jake imagines#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon imagines#sunoo x reader#sunoo imagines#jungwon imagines#jungwon x reader#niki x reader#niki imagines#enhypen headcanons#enhypen oneshots#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines#omg ty for 400 🤧
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18+/// okay but imagine being ceo!eren’s cute little housewife and you decide to surprise him by baking him his favorite dessert in nothing but a short, tight apron and heels.
now this was honestly way out of your comfort zone but after all the hard work eren does to make sure you’re pampered and happy you had to thank him for all he does—and what better way to do that than give him a little show? you felt nervous, giddy, and horny all wrapped together but the second you heard the familiar jingle of his keys a burst of confidence struck you like lightening. “in the kitchen renny!” you called out to him grabbing a pinch of flour and sprinkling it on your face and very exposed breasts.
eren dropped his keys in the dish near the door before walking to the kitchen, his heart nearly stopping at the sight of you bent over. your pussy was on full display, folds glistening in the light as you looked for a pan to put the homemade strawberry cake batter in like you didn’t have a clue in the world eren was eyefucking you from across the room. “welcome home my love you hungry for something sweet?” you smiled scooping up some of the batter onto your finger to get a taste. you moaned dramatically as the sweetness hit your tongue, trying to fight off your giggles at the sight of eren’s dumbfounded face.
he walked over slowly, the sound of his expensive shoes echoing throughout the room. “yes i am craving something sweet actually but i don’t know if we’re thinking of the same things are we wife?” he chuckled pressing his body against your back. you breath hitched when you felt his hand cup your pussy, his middle and ring finger slipping between your soaked folds. “by all means don’t stop because i’m here,” he smiled pressing featherlight kissed against your neck, “keep going finish what you started.” you knew your husband well enough to know his intentions in this moment were anything but pure, but you listened regardless shakily lifting up the bowl containing the batter to pour it into the pan.
“now the presentation may not come out the best but i- oh! i-it’ll still taste good i p-put a lot of love into it,” you began to fumble over your words when you felt his soft fingers brush against your clit. eren being the annoying tease he was pressed his fingers against your clit but made no movements after that, only adding pressure to his fingers as the seconds went by. you were so needy—so desperate to get any type of affection from your husband you tried to subtly grind your pussy onto his fingers but it worked to no avail and all you got in response was a quick slap to your pussy. “i don’t care how it looks baby i know it’ll taste delicious,” he hummed into your ear gently nibbling on the lobe.
once you put the pan into the oven and cleaned up your mess all under eren’s intense and watchful eye he had you pushed up against the counter once again this time your front facing him. “what am i gonna do with you,” he sighed running his hands down your sides, squeezing at the soft skin of your hips. “cake’ll be done in 20 minutes and you still need to make the icing….but i don’t think i can wait that long to have you,” your brows furrowed at the mischievous glint in his eyes. what is this man thinking about? suddenly eren lifted you onto the counter, spreading your thighs roughly to get a look at your soaked center. his tongue traced over his bottom lip as he watched trickles of your wetness drip onto the counter. “always so fuckin’ messy,” he growled smacking your clit, “wonder what the housekeepers must be thinking when we need our sheets cleaned every other day.”
his taunting words had your cheeks burning in embarrassment and your pussy clenching around nothing. you really didn’t mean to be so messy he just brings it outta you :( without wanting eren shoved two fingers in your cunt, curling them with ease. “flour was a cute touch,” he chuckled licking and sucking at the streaks of flour on your breasts, “love this apron on you too y’should wear it more.” you hummed in agreement, running your fingers through his soft locs as he began to suck on your nipples. “squeezin’ my fingers so good you really are the perfect wife aren’t you?” he cooed tracing his fingers over your lips. you eyed at the wedding band that sat oh so prettily on his ring finger and couldn’t help but wrap your mouth around the digit, swiping your tongue over the cool metal of the ring.
life didn’t feel real in this moment for eren, but then again every intimate moment he shared with you didn’t feel real. he couldn’t believe he bagged a woman as beautiful and caring as you and the fact that you treated him like he was your entire world didn’t help his obsession with you either. with the way you batted your eyelashes so prettily at him whenever you spoke to him to the way you took his dick so nicely like the good girl you were he put a ring on your finger within months.
“y’know you’d look really pretty carrying one of my kids,” the pace of his fingers picked up making it almost impossible to concentrate on what he was saying. all you could muster was a whiny ‘uh huh’ that had eren smirking. “what do you say baby how ‘bout we start trying after you finish baking hm? timers almost up and you still need to make some icing,” he brought this thumb to your clit rubbing tightly little circles that had your eyes crossing. you wrapped your smaller hand around his wrist digging your nails into the skin, “f-fuck the icing ‘n the cake just—just fuck me!” you couldn’t think of anything else besides eren eren eren. the way he was so gorgeous when he was concentrated on your body, the faint smell of his cologne, the mouthwatering view of his bulge straining against his slacks.
just as you reached your earth shattering peak the timer went off but all you could hear was white noise. eren pressed a sweet kiss to your lips before briefly walking away to turn of the timer and take the cake out. he scooped your body off the counter bridal style before walking up to your shared room, tossing your half naked form on the bed. “i hope you know i was serious,” you heard him speak softly, watching as he removed his jacket and loosened his tie. “n’ what’s that?” you smiled untying the strings to your apron. you couldn’t have been happier that eren was finally fulfilling his promise of making you a mother and you were going to make every second of the process count.
“oh you don’t know?” he smirked unbuttoning his dress shirt, your eyes immediately went to his beautifully sculpted abdomen. “i’m afraid i don’t husband,” you giggled pulling his body closer by his belt loop, pressing wet kisses against his stomach. “well wife,” he chuckled unbuckling his belt, “i’m going to fuck you like madman until you place a positive pregnancy test in front of my face.” he yanked his slacks and briefs down, his hard dick slapping against his stomach, “n’ then i’m gonna fuck you some more even when you’re all round and swollen—sound good?” it sounds better than good.
#this is completely self indulgent#i’m having like the worst eren brainrot rn all i can think about is HIM#eren <3#eren yeager smut#eren jaeger smut#aot smut#attack on titan smut#eren smut#my writing#eren yeager
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In a Pinch
Joel Miller x f!reader
joel miller masterlist
Joel keeps throwing his back out, but Ellie knows just who to go to for help.
warnings | 18+ allusions to smut, that's literally it, fluff ahead
a/n | is this entirely self-indulgent nonsense? why yes, yes it is. also, this ficlet belongs to the sweetness universe, but can totally be read on its own
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This is the third time this week that Ellie has come home from her classes at the community school to find Joel sprawled on the floor with a pained look on his face.
“Back hurting again, old man?” He huffs, glancing at her from where he’s laying on the living room floor.
“I’m just– stretching.” She snorts at that.
“Oh yeah? What’s this pose called? I’ve given up-dog?” She bursts out in laughter, impressed by her own joke. Their pretty teacher-slash-neighbor-lady had been offering yoga classes during their free elective period in school, and Ellie had gone only because Dina wanted to do it, but now she’s happy for the material it provided for her to razz Joel with. He, however, does not look equally amused at her wordplay.
“Alright, smartass. Will you just help me up? Goddamn.” He shuffles into a seated position with a hard groan and Ellie begrudgingly offers him her hand. Right as he starts to pull himself up though, he lets out a yelp of pain. She didn’t know Joel could even yelp, quickly getting worried by the way he flops back down onto his back, his face twisted up in what could only be agony.
“Jesus– fuck!” That can’t be good.
“What? What’s wrong?” She hovers over him, getting more and more worried by the way he’s not moving a muscle.
“It’s my fucking back– I– something popped.” Because she isn’t a geriatric menace like Joel, Ellie knows nothing about what that could possibly mean, just that it’s probably not good that he literally cannot sit up right now.
“Uh, ok– should I– should I get someone?” Joel tries his best to shake his head no, more of a jerky side to side than anything else.
“No. Just gotta– wait it out.” She scoffs.
“On the fucking floor? What if I just get Tommy? He could at least get you onto the couch or something.” The shaky jerk of his head gets a little bigger, but Ellie’s already headed toward the door. Because she’s her, she turns on her heel just before slipping out.
“Be right back, old man. Don’t you go anywhere!” She just couldn’t help herself.
However, as she steps out onto their front porch, it dawns on her that Tommy is on patrol today. Shit. She racks her brain for who else she could ask for help, coming up with a big fat nobody. She’s distracted from her dilemma by the sound of faint humming, whipping her head around to see their neighbor - pretty teacher-slash-neighbor-lady whom Joel has a huge crush on - walking up the steps to her own porch and unlocking her door before slipping inside. Ellie grins, a clear solution suddenly laid right before her. Yoga is good for bad backs, right?
She’s already bounding across their yard toward pretty-teacher-lady’s house. It would take a fool to not notice that something has been going on between Joel and her, ever since that dance they both just happened to disappear from at the exact same time. As far as Ellie’s concerned, asking her to come help out the old man and his messed up back is a win-win, a two for one really. In one fell swoop, Ellie will get Joel some help and embarrass the living shit out of him in front of the woman he’s got the hots for. Now that’s a prospect she could never pass up.
…
“Ellie, what the hell–”
“Shut it, old man! She can help you with your messed up back.” Joel hasn’t felt this mortified in a long time, a hot flush creeping up his cheeks as his eyes dart between his smartass of a kid and their neighbor, the same neighbor he’s been fooling around with for the last few months. Probably not for much longer, now that she knows I throw my back out if I even sneeze funny.
“I’m fine– really. Just– letting things loosen up a bit.” Ellie snorts at that, turning to their neighbor with a smug look.
“He couldn’t even get up off the floor–”
“Ellie.” If there was a way for someone to die of embarrassment, he reckons he’d already be six feet under by now. Their neighbor, however, seems unphased by the whole thing, putting a hand on Ellie’s shoulder and offering her a smile.
“Ellie, I think Dina was looking for you at the stables, why don’t you–” Before she can even finish, Ellie is already whipping out the door. Joel lets out a huff, and then winces at the pain it sends shooting through his back.
“I don’t need any help.” She quirks a brow at him, kneeling down by his head.
“You sure about that?” He hums a yes. She doesn’t seem convinced.
“If you don’t need any help, can you sit up for me?” Fucking hell.
“I mean– I can. S’just, I’m good like this for now.” She tilts her head at him, her crooked smile letting Joel know she doesn’t buy that for one second.
“Ok, I’ll let you stay like that. But can you tell me what happened at least?” He turns his head just slightly to look at her, letting out a deep sigh.
“It’s my back.” She chuckles.
“I can see that. But what happened to have you laid out like this?” He presses his lips into a thin line, furrowing his brow, not wanting to admit to her what happened. She brings a hand to his shoulder.
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Joel, there’s no need for that. Besides, I’ve already had you on your back more than a few times before, haven’t I?” She can barely get the last words out, dissolving into a giggle. Joel, however, does not think it’s very funny.
“Now you’re just being cruel.” She sighs, squeezing his shoulder as she dips down to give him a peck.
“I’m kidding, don’t pout. Seriously, I might be able to help you if you just tell me what happened. Please?” He huffs, already melting at the soft look she’s giving him.
“It happened at the stables– earlier today. Bent over to pick up a saddle and it just– something just tensed up. It’s happened before– usually just gotta lay down and it’ll work itself out– but then the kid came home and she tried to help me up and–”
“Let me guess, something popped?” His jaw goes slack at her knowing smile and she rather comfortingly rubs her palm up his arm.
“Can you tell me what kind of pain you’re in right now?”
“It’s tight in my low back– but the pain is sorta– spreading? Down into my legs.” He’s surprised when she looks at him like she knows exactly what he’s talking about.
“Sounds like sciatica.”
“Come again?” She smiles.
“We all have something called a sciatic nerve. It runs from your low back down both of your legs. It tends to get pinched pretty easily from stuff like heavy lifting and the pain this causes is called sciatica.” He squints at her.
“Why exactly do you know this?” She sighs, already setting into action, shifting down to his feet to tug off his boots.
“Well, I was a yoga teacher in another life. Had a lot of men just like you come into the studio with the same complaint.” A new detail he hadn’t known about her. He nods, peering down at her where she’s still working at his shoes.
“Do you know how to fix it then?” She hums, shifting back up onto her knees and shuffling to his waist.
“Sort of. I can move you through some stretches right now to at least get you off the floor. But the real fix for something like this is gonna be strengthening everything around it. If you keep up with the exercises I’ll show you, this shouldn’t be a problem anymore.” Joel can’t help but grumble at that. He’s never had to do “exercises” in his life. His work always kept him fit, and after that, scraping by in the apocalypse had worked just as well, though he supposes things have gotten a bit more lax in Jackson. He doesn’t have much time to ponder this when she’s abruptly undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants.
“Woah, hey– not that I, uh, mind exactly. But what’re you doing?” She grins at him, her hands stilling at his waistband.
“Easy, Miller. I’m just gonna take off your jeans. Need you to have your full range of motion for these stretches and tight denim isn’t gonna fly.” He’s trying real hard to not be weird about it, but the sight of his pretty neighbor whom he happens to have seen naked on multiple occasions now gently shimmying his jeans down his legs is making his heart slam against his ribcage.
When she gets his pants all the way off, leaving him in his boxers and t-shirt, she stands up with her hands on her hips, surveying the situation. Joel can’t help but grumble.
“Feel like a fucking invalid.” She snorts at that, kneeling back down alongside his waist.
“Alright, enough of the pity party. I’m gonna guide you through some stretches, you tell me if anything hurts too much, ok?” He nods, trying to ignore the shiver that runs up his spine when she rests her hand on his hip.
“Which leg are you feeling pain in?” He tells her it’s his left side, the one closest to her, and she nods. She slides her hand down from his hip to the hinge of his knee, and he can’t help wondering if this is the treatment she gave all her clients before. He sure hopes not.
“Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna bend this knee in toward your chest and see if that doesn’t release any of the gripping. If that feels ok, we can take it a bit deeper, alright?” He’s not really sure what any of it means, a little too focused on the way she’s reassuringly stroking her thumb along the crook of his knee, but he nods.
With a little assistance from him, she starts to bend his knee, tightness immediately pulling in his back as she tucks his leg in toward his chest. Well, sort of. His leg only bends to a bit over ninety degrees before it just stops. Her eyes dart to his, a furrow of concern clear in her expression.
“Does that hurt too much?” He huffs, shrugging a little.
“Not really– s’just tight. I don’t think it’s gonna bend anymore. Feels– I don’t know– rusty.” She sighs, her hand that’s not supporting his knee rubbing his chest in soothing circles.
“Ok, my sweet tin can man. Let’s try something else.” As she maneuvers him into what she calls a “figure four stretch,” he can’t help but study her face. He’s never seen her so focused, so determined, so at ease, and it’s clear to him that all this was a big part of her life before.
“So, this is what you did for a living? Helped people out with their messed-up backs?” She breathes out a laugh at that, keeping one hand on his shin as she looks up at him.
“This was part of it, yeah. I went to college for human physiology– suppose that’s why they have me teaching science at the school now. It just made sense to me, y’know? Muscles and ligaments and bones, how they move. Yoga just happened to be a passion that I turned into a job– I loved it.” He nods at her words, enjoying the distraction of learning a little more about her far more than the tight pulling sensation of the stretch she has him in.
Then, all of a sudden, another pop resounds through his back. But this one doesn’t feel like a tightening up, it feels like a huge release.
“Sweet jesus.” Her head whips up to look at him, hand slackening where it had been holding firm pressure to his leg.
“You alright?”
“I’m pretty sure something just let up– felt another pop– but a good one, I think.” She nods, sitting back and resting her hands in her lap as he tentatively unwinds his legs from the stretch she had him in, planting his feet flat on the ground with his knees bent.
“Well?” He sits up with a little groan, holding onto his shins to stay up straight.
“Feels a lot better. Still tight, but the pain has eased up for sure.” She practically beams at that and suddenly Joel’s heart is hammering in his ribcage again.
“Now that’s what I like to hear, Miller.” She helps him up, and this time, he actually makes it off the floor, quick to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her into him.
“Thank you for your help, darlin. Gonna have to repay you somehow.” She laughs into the downright salacious kiss he steals from her, lightly pressing on his chest to get him to let up.
“Oh, I’m not done with you. Still got exercises to learn.” He groans at that, jostling her in his hold and burying his face in her neck, but she rakes her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly to get him to look at her.
“And I’m gonna be checking in everyday to make sure you’re doing them. Can’t have you throwing your back out anymore, not on my watch.” He can’t help but smile at that, trying to kiss away the stern expression she’s giving him.
“Yes ma’am. Whatever you say.” He reckons if the instructor is as pretty as she is, he won’t mind doing a few exercises every now and again.
#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller fluff#tlou fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot
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Pls pls pls it u havnt done this already (if u have LMK) but ghost comforting civilian!reader who is really sick but they are in denial and want to go to work!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hello babes!! No I haven’t done such yet so here you go!!!
Thank you sm for the ask too!! Makes me happy🤗 Let me know what you think…
————————— ☠️
“Darliiiing… please stay it’s.. it’s too early-“
Simon Riley’s words slurred a bit as he whined into his pillow, growing upset at the feeling of his hand on the side of your bed, feeling the fading warmth from when you were there minutes ago snuggled up by his side.
“Simon I have a presentation to give at work today for the new employees and I’m already running late because I couldn’t stop trembling in the shower and feeling dizzy- woahhh….”
Simon immediately lifted his head from his squished and hugged pillow (something he wished was you instead under him as he squeezed you impossibly tight and refused to let you go) and he looked at you with wide eyes as he caught you holding onto the wall maintaining your balance, with a hand holding your head as your doe eyes were screwed shut, as if you were in pain. Before you could move you felt a pair of warm steady hands clutch onto your chilling waist and give a light squeeze with soft words,
“Love you ok?”
To his sweet words you desperately wanted to say, ‘No love I feel awful please carry me to bed and hold me until it stops.’
But you had a mean boss that wouldn’t take sick days kindly and pile excruciating triple work to make up for it, something you passionately hated because the hours were sickening and the work was close to slavery.
And plus, Simon had just come back from a long mission and all you wanted to do was take care of him, love on him, cook and do all the things for your hard working man, so.. you reluctantly stood straight and mustered your best smile. “Oh love I’m ok, just got a little dizzy, I think I- oh!”
Soon that warm hand found your forehead followed by Simon gasping lowly,
“Darling you’re burning up! No no, we need to- love!!”
You snatched yourself away from him as you stood up straight again and put your foot down with a supposed authority,
“I’m fine Simon! I promise! I took a hot shower and and- we’ll you know I got to go. Get back in bed and rest, you have a lot of hours to make up for sleep because- we’ll you know-“ Simon huffed out and placed a hand on his hip where his sweats hugged him nicely, and the other pinched his crooked nose while he breathed heavily through it.
Why in the world did he get stuck with such a hard working woman who was just as stubborn as he was? He didn’t know, but he loved you regardless and would do anything in his power to break you, to protect you before something else did and hurt you.
Simon could see it in you, he’s seen it in himself; the tired dark circled eyes, slumped shoulders probably stinging in pain from trying to remain straight, the slight quiver to the lips because your holding all the unsaid words in, and the fiddling fingers attached to shaking arms, aching to be held in a reassuring and loving hold.
“- its for the best for you to rest Si, come on don’t worry about me-“
Simon raised a hand up to signal you to stop rambling as he lastly said,
“Love, don’t fight it- get in my hoodie and in bed now.”
Silence filled the room before a shaky breath was released from your lips followed by a hesitant yet firm,
“No. I need to go to work Simon. I’ll see you later.”
Before Simon could say another word you had already spun on your heel and began to walk towards the door, leaving him a tad upset that you were refusing to take care of yourself. And he didn’t want to push you harshly to the point you cried- caused he hated to see you cry, but he needed to find another way before you left and faced the hard day feeling the way you were.
“Bye Simon- Oh- *bang* OW!!!”
That sounded like you had just fallen- maybe because you had gotten dizzy again but it was worse.
“LOVE?!!”
Simon called out panically as he raced out of his room, to see you at the front door on your knees with your hands flat on the ground, your trembling becoming more visible since you didn’t get up. In an instant Simon was on the ground with you trying to get you to talk since you also refused to look up from the ground.
“Love? Sweetheart are you ok? You probably hurt your knees- look at me.”
He gently grabbed your chin but you held firm, making him sigh when he also felt you trying but failing to stand up. Simon knew you were a tough one but jeez he just wished you’d take a moment and stop- “Love c’mon that’s it-“
“*sniff*.. m’sorry Si, I just don’t feel good.”
Finally, you broke, you soft sniffles breaking Simon’s heart in the process, he hated to see you in pain too.
“Tha’s my good girl.” Simon mumbled such under his breath as his heart dropped with sympathy while he watched your face finally lift up to his. Eyes now puffy and watery as your bottom lip jutted out,
“I jus’ wanted to *sniff*- m’sorry-“
Simon reached down to kiss your now red nose before cooing,
“No no, no apologies. It’s ok, c’mon sweet girl, let me take care of you.”
Under Ghost was the most gentle man named Simon Riley, the man that could be a killing machine on orders but in his freedom he was an angel at heart. Under his spell of love and true devotion to you you crumbled in his arms as he lifted you carefully bridal style.
“i’s alright now- I’ll take care of everything-“
“But my boss-“
“Can kiss my ass if he wants to drag you out of my arms, and then meet my fists for doing such eh?”
A little giggle mixed with a dry cough came out of you but Simon only smiled as he squeezed you tighter.
Soon you were all cocooned in your shared bed after Simon helped you get into his comfortable hoodie and helped you take some medicine- (well he practically had to hold you down between his legs so you could take it) then now you watched him with bright eyes as he walked in slowly with some warm soup.
“Jus’ for you love… oh and you won’t be hearing from your boss for a while-“
Knowing what he was capable of you right away asked with a slight sternness.
“What did you do Simon Riley?”
Raising a brow at your tone Simon chuckled,
“Thought you’d tune that attitude down a notch but to answer you- let’s just say he’s still in tact but well aware of another shape he could have if he didn’t listen.”
“Si-“
Shaking his head at you Simon placed the warm soup on his lap as he settled by your side with a spoonful already in hand,
“Simon says to be sweet and to eat your soup- now open up my love.”
He attentively looked into your eyes which made you blush and smile sheepishly as you listened,
“Thank you Simon.”
Placing the spoon between your lips gently Simon smiled back as he watched you sigh happily at its taste. Then he bopped your nose with his pinky as he replied,
“You’re welcome love.”
#simon riley fanfic#simon riley call of duty#simon riley fluff#ghost simon riley#simon riley#simon riley imagine#simon riley x reader#cod simon ghost riley#ghost fluff#cod simon riley#simon riley cod#elissa rose#asks answered#cod x reader
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i ♡ caulk
inspired by a tweet i saw ages ago and have since lost rip.
steve rogers x bimbo reader
words: 2.3k
a/n: there is definitely an overuse of italics in this so i apologize in advance lol. any and all mistakes are my own! header made by me, and yes, graphic design is my passion, thanks for asking :') pls leave some feedback or come chat in my inbox!! ♡
part 2 ❀
The sound of high heels clacking against the concrete floor of the hardware store is more than a little unusual. Steve almost doesn’t register it at first, thinking maybe it’s part of the music playing overhead, but when the song changes and he still hears it, he glances up with a frown. He certainly isn’t expecting the sight that greets him.
The heels make perfect sense now. Steve’s eyes trail up from sparkly pink toenails showcased in strappy heels to, somehow, an even pinker flared mini skirt that is doing a fantastic job of showing off your legs, and a cropped fitted tee that reads MILF IN TRAINING across the front in, you guessed it, pink glittery letters. Everything about you is just… pink.
He doesn’t want to admit it aloud, let alone think it, because he tries not to judge based on appearance, but you look a little lost. Your doe-eyed gaze flits from one end of the store to the other, glossed lips pursed in thought.
Steve doesn’t mean to stare, honest, it’s just that you’re so dainty and bright in a way this dull, musty smelling hardware store isn’t. He doesn’t think he’s seen eyelashes that long before and he briefly wonders if they’re real. The tint to your cheeks definitely isn’t, but he thinks it's pretty regardless.
He shakes his head to clear his thoughts; that’s not important. What is important is that he does his actual job and helps a customer who needs it.
He wipes his suddenly sweaty palms on his ugly, orange work apron and is about to make his way over to you, but you spot him before he can. A smile spreads across your shiny lips and you quickly walk to where Steve’s been restocking boxes of nails, your perfectly styled hair bouncing with each step. Or, well, he was restocking the nails, until he caught sight of you.
“Hi,” you say in a relieved tone. He opens his mouth to say hello in return, but you continue before he gets a chance. “Could you please show me your caulk?”
Steve chokes on nothing, a startled cough wheezing out of him. “I-I’m sorry, what? My what?”
You tilt your head curiously, brows pinching slightly in a frown. “Your caulk? You know, the like, long thingy with the sticky, white stuff inside? Gets hard as it dries…?”
The hand gestures you’re using do not help the heat from rushing to Steve’s cheeks or his blood pressure that is suddenly skyrocketing.
“I… Ma’am, I-I don’t think—” he starts sputtering until you cut him off again.
“I really need it,” you say, almost whining, cocking your hip as you begin to explain, “because, like—okay, so, my apartment is nice, right? I totally managed to snag one of the better ones, and my friend said that I wouldn’t be able to because it’s, like, impossible to get a good one in the building I’m in, but once I spoke to the landlord he was super sweet and let me choose whichever one I wanted. Isn’t that, like, so cute? But anyway, it could definitely be nicer, especially after I noticed that the caulking around the bathtub needs some serious retouching, so, like, that’s why I’m here.”
Steve blinks a couple times to process the rapid pace of sentences thrown at him, and when it finally registers, he nearly smacks his own forehead.
“Oh!” Relief floods him so quickly he nearly collapses. “Caulk, you need caulk.” He probably over enunciates the word, but Jesus Christ. “Wow, okay, that… that makes much more sense,” he says, shoulders relaxing as he lets out a sigh.
“What did you think I meant?” you ask in confusion.
His cheeks flush anew as he clears his throat. “Uh, nothing, it’s nothing. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the—the caulk.”
“Thank you so much,” you gush, smiling widely.
He checks that you’re still following probably too many times, considering the click-clacking of your heels is prominent behind him, but you only grin happily when you see him looking. He takes note of the stares from other men, even some women, and is curious if you notice them, too, or if you just don’t care. You certainly carry yourself with the utmost confidence, your head held high and shoulders set in a gentle, relaxed slope. Steve admires it and maybe even envies it a little.
Which isn’t to say that he lacks confidence. He just sometimes still feels like that scrawny kid he used to be.
He almost walks past the right section, having let his mind wander, but he’s quick to direct his feet to the shelves that hold what you’re searching for.
“Is there a specific brand you’re wanting, or…?” he trails off, cocking an eyebrow curiously.
“Whichever one is the best,” you say sweetly.
Steve grabs the brand he personally thinks is better than the others and hands it over with a polite smile.
“Do you need a caulk gun, too?” he asks.
You wave a dismissive hand. “Oh, no, I have a pink one at home.”
Somehow, that doesn’t surprise Steve in the slightest, but all he says is, “Great! Is there anything else I can help you with today?”
You get a twinkle in your eyes, your smile turning playful at the corners of your lips. It makes him squirm a little in a way he’s not entirely sure he hates, like the anticipation of your reply could make or break him, and he finds that he wouldn’t mind staying in your presence a little longer. Your response, though, gets cut off by a random man behind you.
“I could do a better job helpin’ you out, baby,” he says suggestively, not even attempting to hide his lust as he leers at you.
You spin on your heel in a flash, hair swishing around your shoulders and sending a rather pleasant waft of what’s either your shampoo or perfume in Steve’s direction. The short skirt you're wearing fans out with your spin as well, riding up almost dangerously high. Your grin is now sharp, edgy, and your eyes are piercing in a way they haven’t been in the brief moments Steve has been around you, and he takes a cautious step back.
“First of all, worry about helping yourself with that receding hairline you’re sporting, big guy. Second of all, we weren’t talking to you, so you should mind your business. And lastly, if you ever speak to me again I’ll have this nice man beside me show me where the chainsaws are and I’ll chop off your fucking dick. M’kay?”
The man scoffs. “Bitch,” he grumbles under his breath.
Steve frowns and is about to tell him off for calling a lady a bitch, but you giggle and he stops in surprise.
“Takes one to know one, baby.” Your tone is mocking yet deceptively sweet as you give him an obvious once over. “I can see that ugly silver band on your left ring finger,” you note with a cute wrinkle of your nose, “so why don’t you get the rest of the shit on your honey-do list and head home to your, undoubtedly, extremely unsatisfied wife and leave other women alone.”
A snort of laughter sneaks out of Steve before he can stop it. The man, now red in the face, huffs before stomping away, wisely choosing not to say anything else.
“Tell her to call me if she ever needs a girl’s day!” you sing-song to his retreating back, smiling in satisfaction when his shoulders hunch higher and his pace picks up.
Steve is biting back his own smile, but his inner old man shoves his way to the forefront of his mind and demands to offer unsolicited advice.
“You know, you ought to be careful,” he advises. “Some guys won’t just walk away like that.”
You seem both amused and touched by his concern. “I can take care of myself,” you assure, flicking your hair, adding, “Plus, I have, like, a gazillion self defense keychains.”
You reach into your purse and pull them out, each one of them pink, sparkly, or leopard print, clinking noisily against each other. You pick out a specific one that looks like a castle, putting your fingers into the holes and holding it up for Steve to see.
“This one is like, super stabby,” you explain.
“The tips definitely look sharp,” he concedes, taking note of all the other defenses held together in your small hand.
Part of him wonders if you’ve ever used any of them, but a larger part of him sincerely hopes you haven’t. He clears his throat.
“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need help with anything else.”
He pastes on a polite smile and takes one last look at you, sighing wistfully internally, then heads back to finishing restocking boxes of nails. He’s hoping the monotony of the repetitive task will bring him back down to earth after such an interesting altercation.
You’re certainly a bundle of contradictions. Your appearance is all pink and sparkles and ruffles galore. Anyone giving you a passing glance would think like Steve did at first.
I doubt there’s much going on in that pretty, little head.
Of course, Steve feels guilty now. He should know better—not only because his Momma raised him right, but because people also make assumptions about him and his appearance too. Over six feet tall, broad shoulders, big muscles… He’s definitely had to deal with his share of rude people. However, he doubts any of his encounters hold a candle to yours.
He sighs to himself as he grabs the last of the boxes and places them neatly on the shelf. If he’d been braver, he would have asked you out. You’re very beautiful; kind of like a fairy or a princess, or… something. Definitely something like that. Damn. He really screwed the pooch on this one.
“Excuse me?”
Steve stills, heart picking up pace as he turns to see you smiling up at him. You’ve got a plastic bag with the store’s tacky logo on it resting in the crook of your elbow with your purchase inside.
“Yes?” he croaks. He coughs lightly and hopes his ears aren’t as red as they feel. “Did you need something else?”
You cock your hip again, twirling some of your hair around your finger, looking at him through your lashes.
“Yes,” you pout. “I was wondering if you knew where I could find this guy.” Steve’s stomach drops to his toes. “He’s got these like, stupidly pretty blue eyes, a very attractive beard, sandy blonde hair I can’t wait to sink my fingers into, and he’s about this tall.” You bite your lip as you step closer and hold your hand up, measuring Steve’s height with it. He gets another whiff of that tantalizing scent coming off of you and it kicks his heart right back into overdrive.
“What… What did you need him for exactly?” he asks carefully.
You drop your hand as you hum in thought. “Well, I thought we’d start with a date, but I’m open to almost anything,” you say, your smile turning sly.
“Oh,” he says faintly. “I, uh. I think he’d be okay with that.”
You giggle and fuck, he wants to hear that again.
“Good,” you reply as you tuck your hair behind your ear.
“Just for clarification’s sake,” Steve rushes out, “we’re talking about me, right?”
You let out more giggles (oh god) and cover your mouth with your tiny hand and Steve melts. He feels his own lips stretching into a grin, chest fluttering.
“Of course, you silly billy.” You’re still smiling as you reach into your purse, rummaging around and extracting a pen with feathers on the end of it and a tiny, glittery notebook. You scribble something down and rip the piece of paper out. “Call me?” you ask as you hand it over.
“Absolutely,” he replies, not believing his luck, staring at the numbers on the paper.
You reach up to tap on his name tag. “Oh, and Steve?”
His eyes are now glued to where your pink nails have trailed down to teasingly swipe back and forth on his pec. He’s pretty sure he mumbles something back to show he’s listening, but who knows, really. You lean in even closer, pressing up on your tip-toes.
“You can treat me like a lady and still fuck me on the first date,” you whisper, your warm breath fanning out across his ear and sending a shiver down his spine. When you pull back to meet his unfocused gaze, you’re smirking. “M’kay?”
He swallows thickly. “‘Kay,” he replies.
You tilt your head and stare at different parts of his face, biting your lip. Steve lets you, terrified to move, otherwise you might say gotcha! and take off. You sigh dreamily and give him a glossy kiss on the cheek. Then you boop him on the nose and step back.
“Ugh, you’re so cute. This is gonna be like, so much fun. I can tell.” He nods dumbly in agreement. “Don’t forget to call me, okay? I’ll be really, really sad if you don’t.”
With a beaming grin and wave, you spin on your heels and sashay away.
“Bye,” he says to the fading sound of your clacking heels, feeling bowled over and utterly lost, but knowing he’d be a fucking idiot to not call you.
With that thought in mind, he digs his phone out of his pocket, never mind the fact that he’s still on the clock and is technically not supposed to have his phone out, and dials your number. He double checks (and triple checks) he’s put it in right, then hits the call button. You answer on the third ring.
“Hello?”
Steve is pretty sure he can hear how you’re smiling smugly to yourself.
“So… Are you free tonight?”
“For you? I’m free whenever, handsome.”
#steve rogers fic#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers#bimbo reader#avengers fic#marvel fic
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Blow by Blow | 0.3 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader au
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist
Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big.
Warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni, no warnings in particular for this one
…
“Why aren’t we doing what you and Payback were doing?” You question as Bradley straps the pads to his hands. He scrunches his brows and looks down at the guys, then back to you incredulously.
“Because I’m not going to hit a girl.” He scoffs back. You suppose that would be unfair, but not because you’re a girl. Because he has been doing this for as long as he can walk, and you’re about as graceful on your feet as a deer on ice.
“So what’s this?” You tap your hands together, wearing gloves that fit this time. There aren’t really any women’s gloves for you to borrow — girls don’t really come here, let alone train here. Nat let you borrow hers. She’s watching with interest at the side of the ring whilst Mickey covers her 11am session.
“Call it target practice, not that you need it apparently.” Bradley jokes, tilting his head from side to his, neck still stiff from that shitty couch upstairs. He’s just messing around, the lamp didn’t even leave a bruise — hitting the floor, now that’s left a mark around his elbows but he’s fine. He’s been through worse.
Rooster hadn’t planned on getting to drunk to drive home last night — spending the day with a sore neck after having to walk back here to spend the night, and also being assaulted with a lamp — those seem like fair punishments for his lapse in judgment.
Your ears heat up slightly. You swallow and offer him a sheepish smile.. “Sorry again, about that.”
He looks you up and down and then smiles, rolling his broad shoulders back. It’s been a while since someone looked at you like he does. “Sorry for breaking in and almost flashing you.”
It’s in your head. You’re getting in your own head about this. It’s just because you saw him and his stupid tanned muscles last night. He’s not flirting with you.
“Almost…?” You aren’t quite sure you heard him right, you take a step closer. He smiles at you and knocks the pads together in his hands, flirting.
“Yeah, I usually sleep naked — you stopped me right in time,” He chuckles, then sniffs. “Alright. You ready?”
You stare at him. He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly. You glance across at Phoenix, who is close enough to have heard what he just said to her. She’s practically wincing.
Swallowing softly, you turn your attention back towards him and nod.
The terminology he uses isn’t exactly beginner friendly, but you understand what he’s asking you to do. Different combos, different variations of swinging towards the pads on his hands — hardly rocket science.
Jab. Jab. Hook. Bradley sighs and shakes his head, “Hit like you mean it, Bambi — this is just sad.” He taunts. You frown, shooting another glance towards Phoenix. “Now!”
You flinch at his raised voice, blinking hard as you turn your head back to face him. Phoenix pinches the bridge of her nose. She probably should have filled him in. Taking a deep breath, you do as he asks. His brows furrow as you complete the combination.
He looks over at Phoenix at the edge of the ring and notices her shaking her head at him. He pauses.
“Have you ever even hit anyone before?” Rooster asks, making no effort to hide his distaste for your current technique. There’s a judgment to his tone that you weren’t expecting. You shift your weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.
He’s hot and cold, and confusing.
No one ever took it easy on him during his training, and that’s what made him good at what he does. It wasn’t until someone took pity on him that it all got screwed up. Going easy on clients doesn’t work.
“No…?”
“Alright, um… maybe we take a couple of steps back,” He lifts his hand and bites the Velcro on the back of the pad, shaking it off of his right. hand and then pulling it off of the other. They clatter to the floor messily. Your skin burns, embarrassed. You’re in the centre of the gym, quite literally on a platform. Rooster curls his fingers towards Phoenix, “Nat, wanna give us a hand?”
“Someone ought to.” She scoffs as she pulls herself up and steps under the ropes. She smiles and nudges her elbow into yours. Bradley rolls his eyes playfully at her.
The practice that you do next is much more tame. Natasha holds your hips, making sure that you stay in ‘stance’. Her arm guides past yours, her fist moving from vertical to horizontal — arm rotating as she extends it. Slow movements with her chest to your back.
You breathe out softly and copy.
“No, not —“ Bradley sighs and catches your wrist, stepping closer. He extends your arm slowly and turns it like hers, then nods. He looks up, meeting your gaze. “Like that. Okay?”
You nod softly.
Footwork is important in boxing, you know that much. It’s as important to be fast as it is to be strong. And yet, Bradley’s got you standing completely stationary, extending your arm and rotating it.
It’s important, making sure that your jab looks good before he moves on to anything else — walking before running, and that kind of thing. You’re already sticking out like a sore thumb, doing this with them just makes you burn with embarrassment.
Still, you won’t admit that here.
After maybe thirty minutes, Bradley reintroduces the pads. He stands in front of you, Phoenix holds your hips.
“Go ‘head, Bambi — impress me.” He murmurs, holding the pad up in front of you. Slow at first, you do exactly what he showed you. His lips quirk at the edges. He nods. “Mhm. Harder.”
Natasha looks past you, staring at him, unimpressed. She knows her best friend well — and he’s an idiot for flirting with you right now. It’s not his fault, he’s just messing around. He likes to tease girls, it’s part of the fun.
Besides, as far as he’s concerned, you broke up with your asshole boyfriend and are probably looking for a rebound. Looking at your short skirt and the tank top that you had strolled in here in, Rooster would be more than happy to be your rebound.
His tongue slips forwards and wets his lips as he glances you up and down. He’s well aware that there are people watching — the guys that train here aren’t used to there being a pretty girl in the ring. They stopped looking at Nat after she launched a dumbbell at a guy, maybe it was a bit much, but it had worked.
You continue, hitting into the pads. Natasha can feel you relaxing into it.
“Harder.” Bradley insists, the impact of your punches barely rocking the pads in his hands. You do as he says, and he lets you go on for a while, but you’re holding back.
It’s boring.
“Alright. I’m gonna take a break before Lou shows up.” Bradley decides finally, taking the pads off of his hands and stepping closer to you. You lift your chin, eyes on him as he invades your space to set the pads down on your forearms. “Not bad, Bambi.”
You’re left awkwardly holding them, still wearing Nat’s gloves as he steps under the ropes and drops down from the ring. Natasha takes a split second to watch him walk away, then shakes her head. Asshole.
“Ignore him,” She mumbles, shaking her head as she takes the pads from you and tugs at the velcro on your gloves. “He’s a dick to everyone that he trains. Method in the madness or whatever.”
You almost scoff. If that’s him being an asshole, you can handle that. Compared to what you just walked away from, this is a playground fight. You can handle your own here. Especially with her to back you up. You smile softly at you new friend.
“Maybe next time, I could practice with just you?” You suggest gently. Natasha nods, smiling back at you.
Bradley whistles as he tucks himself back into his shorts, stepping away from the urinal and walking over to the sink. He wets his hands, then soap, then washes. The soap in here is cheap and never lathers right, but that’s Mav’s department. Bradley couldn’t care less about this kind of crap.
He looks at himself in the mirror above the sink, wiping his hands on his shorts and running his fingers through his hair. His eyes skim along the long, jagged split in the mirror. Somebody should probably get that fixed.
“Now you listen to me, dickhead,” Natasha starts, unfazed as the door slams into the wall. Bradley flinches, eyes going wide.
“Nat, this is the men’s room!” He protests, turning around to face her, eyes going wide. She continues towards him as the door swings shut again, pointing her finger into his chest. Bradley stares down at her, confused.
“Don’t fuck around with her like that. It’s not what she needs right now.” She wants him seriously, looking up at him, eyes narrowed. She might be half his size, but she has shown him more than once that she’s not to be messed with.
Still, that doesn’t mean he won’t argue back.
“Are we talking about me flirting with her?” Bradley asks. He folds his arms over his chest and leans back against the counter. Natasha shoves at his chest.
“Can you just be normal around a girl for once in your life, please?” She huffs.
“Everyone needs sex, Nix. It’s natural.” He shrugs calmly.
“Not her — not from you,” Phoenix insists. Bradley stares at her, trying to read her face. All he knows is that Phoenix ran into you after you had dumped Jett. From what Bradley knows about Jett, he wasn’t surprised that you didn’t want to see him again to grab your stuff. He’s starting to think that there might be more to it than that. “Just don’t mess with her head right now. I think this place could be good for her, and you’re going to ruin it. So — don’t. Okay?”
“Fine, but if she comes onto me, then—“
“She won’t.” Phoenix answers, shaking her head as she turns away from him. Bradley scoffs as she pulls open the door and leaves him in peace finally.
After over a decade of friendship, Natasha has never cock-blocked him before. Sure, she has done her best to dissuade him from making some poor decisions, but nothing like this. He turns towards the mirror and frowns slightly.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that whatever went down between you and your ex-boyfriend was bad, but Bradley’s curiosity claws at him. He thinks about it.
Sad eyes, shaking hands. What came before.
Phoenix thinks that time heals. Maybe that’s what she’s trying to give you — time. Bradley disagrees. He has had plenty of time and he’s still just as angry as he was back then. Getting better doesn’t work like that, not for him.
“Shit…” You mutter softly, staring at the text. Your heart sinks.
Jake raises his eyebrows as he wipes at the back of his neck with a towel. He takes a long drink from his water bottle and lets out a heavy breath, “Everything okay, kid?”
You look up from your phone. Clearly it’s not, Jake can see that much on your face.
“Y-Yeah… yeah,” A soft shake of your head, you sigh and close your eyes. Do not cry, do not cry — don’t fucking cry. “My friend just let me down is all.”
“Anything we could help with?” Coyote asks without hesitation. Jake looks at him and scrunches his brows. This is how they always get roped into the stupidest shit. Javy smiles sincerely at you.
These guys have already done too much. You shake your head again, “No, I was just supposed to get some things from my old place today. My dog and stuff. My ex is going to be at an appointment and it’s like the one time that he’ll be out… it’s — it’s just annoying.”
“I love dogs.” Javy declares. Jake drapes the towel over his shoulder and shrugs. He knows about what happened.
“I’ve got a couple of hours free.” Jake agrees.
They’re standing side by side, both sweaty and clearly exhausted. Without looking at each other for reassurance, they offer you the same soft, sincere smiles. You stare at them.
Jake dips his hand into his pocket and pulls out his keys, “My car or yours, kid?”
Your old apartment is about a twenty minute drive, a ground floor apartment with a small space at the back of it. Jake’s brows furrow slightly as he slides out of the driver’s side of his car, “Jesus Christ — is that your dog?”
Barely listening, you fish your keys from the front pocket of your denim skirt and head for the front door. Jett’s car isn’t here and you don’t know how long you’ll have. Jake and Javy share concerned glances as you rush towards the loud, deep barking coming from the apartment. Jake winces as the door springs open, preparing himself to witness a viscous attack.
Instead, a chunky tan and white pit bull launches himself into you, wiggling and wagging his tail.
“Oh, baby — Mommy missed you so much!” You coo over the fifty pound dog as he knocks you onto your butt and immediately throws himself into your lap, licking your face. Jake stares in disbelief. That cannot be the same creature that had been barking so incessantly a second ago. Not the excited blur of dog that’s all over you being called baby.
Javy laughs and heads forwards to join in. You breathe in softly and hold your hand up. He stops in his tracks.
“Hold on, he — um, he’s kind of shy about meeting new people,” You explain gently as you push yourself up onto your knees and wrap your arms around the dog to keep him against you. “If you both just come and sit, like right here, and let him sniff you, it should be okay.”
Javy obliges immediately, sitting cross-crossed a couple feet away from you, in the parking lot of the condominiums. Jake approaches slowly, uncertain as he sits beside his best friend. You smile and kiss the dog’s shoulder, slowly loosening your hold on him and letting him wander forwards.
He stalks towards the two of them, slow and cautious. Jake holds his breath. He’s never been great with dogs. Javy lifts his hand, calm and still as the dog sniffs him first.
“This is Tank.” You announce, smiling softly. Javy seems to have passed the friendship test, Tank moves on to Jake. He takes longer to decide when it comes to the tense blonde. After a few seconds of sniffing, Tank’s tail begins to wag. He presses himself into Jake’s lap, snuggling into his chest as he sticks his big head out towards Coyote.
A couple of minutes under the San-Diego sun, the four of you getting to know each other.
Jake helps you grab what you can, only the stuff that matters, while Coyote stands watch. Tank appoints himself the unofficial foreman, making sure that everyone is doing their jobs, following you from point A to B as you load Jake’s truck with as much as you can carry.
“Thanks, for helping me out with this stuff,” You say softly as Jake closes up the back of the truck bed. He turns and offers you a small, cool smile. Javy beams at his side. “I really appreciate everything you guys have done for me.”
Javy steps forwards and wraps his thick arms around you, forgetting his strength for a moment as he squeezes you tight. “We look out for each other at Bradshaw’s. Happy to help. Right, Jake?”
Jake can’t help but laugh at the concerned, half-crushed and worried look on your face. He nods and pats your shoulder as he heads for the driver’s seat. “Yes, we do. Now let’s get this guy home before he pisses on my seats.”
…
#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#miles teller#top gun: maverick#top gun#bradley bradshaw au#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw smut#rooster bradshaw imagine
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Request: actor Steve??? Singer Eddie at the grammy's??? Eddie's band winning a Grammy & Eddie proposing to Steve accidentally in his speech???? & Steve crying and nodding yes but he is in tears & can't stand up??? Ok but then at the Oscars Steve actually proposes on stage because he had broken his leg & Eddie helped him on stage. But his proposal is the same as Eddie's because he also asks during his speech & Eddie cries and they get engaged again ❤️❤️❤️❤️
BABYYYYYY!!! NOT ONE, BUT TWO MARRIAGE PROPOSALS?! YES! PLEASE! I love the idea of Steve being prepared to propose to Eddie, has a whole plan, and then Eddie gets so emotional when he wins a Grammy that he does it before Steve gets a chance. Steve CANNOT be outdone, so obviously he does it too. We love love! - Mickala ❤️
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Somehow, against every odd, Eddie Munson made it.
Corroded Coffin, through hard work and a pinch of luck, were nominated for a Grammy.
They’d spent years climbing their way to the top (hard work) and finally got signed to a huge record deal when an agent saw them opening for a metal band at a festival (pinch of luck).
Their first album broke records in ways that hadn’t been seen since Metallica stepped onto the scene.
Their first tour sold out in minutes.
Their second album had a lot of hype to live up to, and according to the Grammy nomination, it far surpassed the expectations.
He hated that Steve couldn’t walk the carpet with him, but he was happy he was waiting inside with all the significant others of the band.
Probably already drinking wine and champagne. Maybe even shots.
Dammit, Eddie hated walking the carpet.
Steve was a fun drunk, but he was even more fun when he’d only had a couple. His filter shut off, but he wasn’t quite at the point of bitchy. He was silly.
Steve was rarely silly.
Fun, funny, happy.
But never really silly.
Not like Eddie was.
But after a couple drinks? Downright clownish.
Eddie tried to rush through the remaining interviews, and the guys could tell, throwing him shocked looks. Eddie loved the spotlight, so it probably was a little shocking.
When they got inside, they were stopped by just about everyone who lived on planet Earth.
Eddie was ready to grab Steve and run.
Fuck the Grammy.
But he couldn’t do that. This was a possibly once in a lifetime thing. Wayne was watching at home even though he “doesn’t have time to watch those stupid awards.”
If they did win, Eddie had to give a speech, they had to go to afterparties, he had to fuck Steve against the window in their hotel room.
He shook his head, trying to clear it of any of those thoughts. Now wasn’t the time.
He walked into the main room, suddenly overwhelmed by the crowd and the vast expanse of tables and seating and stage area in front of him.
He caught a glimpse of Steve at a table not too far away, laughing at something Jeff’s wife, Amy, was saying. She’d almost skipped tonight, her pregnancy far enough along that getting all dressed up didn’t sound remotely appealing. But then she’d heard Steve was going, and she’d called her sister to alter her dress immediately.
Gareth’s fiancé, Sam, was sitting away from everyone, still not sure of her place in the group. They’d had a bit of a whirlwind romance, and Eddie would be more worried if Sam wasn’t completely head over heels in love with Gareth in high school first. But she’d only just met everyone a month ago, and this was the first public event she attended with everyone. She was visibly nervous.
Grant’s wife, Savannah, was clearly trying to make conversation with everyone.
And Eddie knew that Steve and Amy weren’t purposefully making it harder, but they certainly weren’t making things easy for her.
They were laughing so much, he couldn’t even be sure they were laughing at something.
He sidled up to Steve’s side, plopping down in the empty chair to his right.
“Eddie! Amy’s here!” Steve smacked his arm excitedly.
He was at least three wines in.
“I see that, sweetheart. Hi, Amy.”
“Hey, Eddie. He’s drinking for two,” Amy smiled fondly as Steve took another sip of wine.
“And she’s eating for two!” Steve said as he reached out to touch her belly. “I can’t believe I don’t get to have your babies, Eds.”
Eddie snorted. Amy let out a loud laugh.
“I’m sure we can give it our best shot later tonight,” Eddie whispered in his ear, smirking to himself when he saw Steve shiver.
They all continued chatting, occasionally getting interrupted by guests: producers, musicians, agents, even some kids who were big fans.
When the show started, Steve was drifting. He’d had maybe one too many, and he’d reached the sleepy part of wine drunk a lot sooner than he should’ve. Maybe because he barely slept last night. Maybe because Eddie fucked him in the shower and the couch and the bed, and then woke him up early to fuck him on the counter before he had to leave for an interview with Good Morning America. He was tired.
Eddie was tired too, but he was used to a lot of late nights and early mornings over the last couple of years.
Plus, he was running on so much adrenaline at the thought of winning a Grammy, he was pretty sure he could stay awake for another 12 hours.
Steve’s head rested against Eddie’s shoulder, his hand entangled in Eddie’s.
For seven years, Steve’s been his biggest fan, his person, his everything.
And for three years before that, he was his best friend.
He was there at grungy bars, outdoor festivals in rain or shine, that one fundraising event at the mall that was a total disaster. He was front row at their first opening gig for a Midwest metal band, and front row at their opening gig for Ghost. He was backstage for their first headlining tour, in the studio when they recorded their first and second albums, and on the tour bus when he could miss work.
It only made sense that he was here for this.
He wanted him here for everything.
This wasn’t the first time he’d thought that, probably not even the hundredth. He’d wanted to marry Steve for years.
But Steve was focused on building his own career, and Eddie insisted that he do what he wanted to do no matter what Eddie did with his career.
It meant a lot of time apart, a lot of FaceTiming at weird hours of the day or night because it’s the only time their schedules would sync up, a lot of missing each other.
But they believed in their relationship the same way they believed in each other, and they kept making it work.
He had a ring. He bought it years ago. Wayne had it so Steve wouldn’t find it, but they’d already planned on him taking it with him on his next stop in Hawkins.
He let himself relax a bit. Had a glass of wine, then champagne, and a beer. Their category was almost the last of the night, so they were able to relax for a while.
Steve knew a lot of people in the industry because of his acting career, but he’d made it very clear tonight was about Eddie to anyone who tried to talk to him.
The night was long, longer than Eddie could really handle.
His nerves were through the roof and Steve had fallen asleep on his shoulder.
When their category was announced, Eddie nudged him awake gently.
“Hey, sweetheart. I’m either about to be a Grammy winner or get a lot of great sympathy sex from you,” Eddie whispered in his ear as a camera guy settled in front of their table to get their reactions.
Steve was suddenly wide awake, the realization that this could be one of the biggest moments of their lives making him grip Eddie’s hand like a lifeline.
“And the winner for Best Metal Album is…” the announcer paused for dramatic effect. “Corroded Coffin with Reanimate!”
The whole room was cheering, but their table was going wild.
Steve jumped up the moment they said Corroded Coffin, jumping up and down and pulling Eddie up on his feet.
The next minute was a blur as they made their way to the stage, his boys surrounding him and clapping each other on the back excitedly.
They’d all worked hard for this, dealt with endless bullying in high school because their music was different, fought through the struggle of trying to appease bar owners and small town festival organizers with “softer” music so they could get in front of the right people. They spent thousands of dollars they realistically didn’t have to travel to places where metal was more welcome.
They had to take out personal loans to get studio time to record a demo and send it in to every record company they could think of.
Steve gave them 25% of his inheritance to buy their first tour bus because “it’s a good investment, and it’ll save money on hotels and eating out.”
When they got to the stage, Eddie realized that he’d have to speak.
Shit.
He’d kind of prepared a speech, but he also didn’t want to get his hopes up too much so he’d just let it go.
“Uh, wow. Okay. Thank you guys so much!” He started. He could just barely see the faces of everyone at their table, but Steve’s beaming smile was enough. “I didn’t prepare much other than that because I just didn’t think we would win. I know we’re talented and we work hard, but this is the biggest award you can win in the music industry and we still have a long way to go to really feel like we can even be in the same room as most of these talented musicians.”
He was killing it!
“I need to thank these guys up here with me, all the guys who work with us in the studio, everyone who makes tour possible, my Uncle Wayne, who probably is crying but won’t admit it when I talk to him later.” Everyone laughed. “But I have to thank Steve more than anything. I think the guys would agree he’s been the guy there for us through everything. He’s not just my boyfriend, he’s our first and biggest fan. Sorry to all the wives and future wife at our table.” More laughter. “I don’t know where we’d be without him, but I really don’t think I’d be who I am if not for the way he loves me, the way he’s always loved me. Even when it’s hard, even when we go months without being able to see each other, we find ways to make us work. We keep doing the damn thing even when the damn thing is hard. I didn’t plan to do this tonight, and Wayne is gonna kill me, but Stevie, sweetheart, I can’t go another day without knowing. Will you marry me?”
The room erupted into cheers, the guys on stage jumping up and down. He saw the camera guy zooming in on Steve’s reaction as they broadcast it on a screen by the stage.
But Eddie didn’t need the screen. He could see the tears streaming down Steve’s face as he cried, his smile bigger than life as he nodded.
“He said yes!” Jeff yelled.
The crowd cheered louder as Eddie handed the Grammy award to Gareth and ran down the stairs back to his table.
Steve jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around his waist.
Eddie’s hands immediately went to his thighs to support him, and Steve’s hands cupped his face.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” Steve sobbed out.
“I can’t believe I haven’t done it earlier,” Eddie responded.
They kissed in front of the hundreds of people here and the possibly millions watching at home.
It was one of the best kisses they’d ever shared. The room around them went quiet, at least to them, as their lips moved against each other passionately, but with a gentleness they rarely had with each other anymore.
They pulled apart after a few more seconds, foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath.
Eddie gently let Steve down, using his thumbs to wipe away some of his tears and giving him a beaming smile.
“Wayne’s got the ring. I have a feeling he’ll be making us come for a visit very soon so I’ll put it on you then,” Eddie whispered.
The rest of the band had trickled back to the table to collect him for post-win interviews backstage, but he couldn’t go without one more kiss.
Steve gave it willingly, always giving love in whatever way he could.
“Okay, I gotta go answer some questions. We’ll be quick,” he said with one more kiss to Steve’s forehead.
“Love you. So proud of you,” Steve said as he pulled away.
“Love you so much!”
—---------------------------------------
Steve’s engagement ring glistened in the spotlight hitting their table at the Oscars.
The Oscars.
Steve Harrington, almost Munson, was sitting at the Oscars because he was nominated for two awards: Best Actor in a Drama and Best Actor in a Comedy.
Eddie was sitting next to him, somehow more nervous here than he was at the Grammys.
His leg hadn’t stopped bouncing up and down since they sat down 20 minutes ago. The other people at the table were luckily good friends and didn’t think anything of his anxiety.
Eddie never got nervous before shows, or interviews, or photoshoots, or even his award shows. But when it came to Steve, he was a nervous wreck.
Before auditions, before appearances, before red carpets. He was on edge whether he was with him or not.
Tonight was no different.
They’d had incredibly busy schedules after the Grammys, only seeing each once over the last three months. But Eddie had told his manager nearly six months ago that he would not miss this for any reason, that Steve supported him at all of his big events, and he wasn’t going to ask permission to support his fiance, he just was.
Except it turned into more of Steve supporting him as the night wore on, the realization that Steve could very well win both categories keeping Eddie strung out.
It was actually a little cute.
The comedy category was first, and he had tough competition. Anytime you’re going against people like Jonah Hill and the people at Disney you have to be ready to lose.
And he did lose. Well, Eddie kept saying “it’s not a loss, it’s just not a win”, which was really the same thing.
But Steve wasn’t as upset as he expected to be. Comedy wasn’t really his forte, he’d only done a handful of comedy movies and shows over the last few years, and none of them were major roles.
It was the drama he cared about.
He’d put his heart and soul into this film. It was regarded as the breakthrough queer film of the year, up for enough awards tonight to be considered an Oscar Sweep.
He never would have gotten here if not for the man next to him, so he could handle his nerves easily.
“Drama is next,” Eddie breathed out, his hand squeezing Steve’s knee.
“I know, baby.”
“What if you win? Oh my god, what if you don’t? No, no. You’ll win. This is your best work. Seriously, don’t know why I would ever think you wouldn’t.”
Steve smirked as the announcer started saying all the nominees’ names.
The camera focused on him was probably capturing a lot of Eddie’s mumbling under his breath, but luckily they weren’t mic’d up so it would be easy to explain away.
“The winner for Best Actor in a Drama…Steve Harrington!”
“Oh my god! Oh my god! Steve I can’t feel my legs, I can’t feel them. Or my arms. I think I might black out, oh my god,” Eddie immediately turned to him with tears in his eyes.
“Baby, I need you to help me on stage. My leg’s broken, remember?”
And that was a pain in the ass. His last role required some stunts and Steve was an idiot and insisted on trying one for himself. It didn’t go well and he’s lucky it was just a broken leg.
Steve kissed Eddie’s lips softly, quickly, to get him to focus.
“Right! Okay,” Eddie stood up and held his arm out for Steve, who was using a single crutch to get around this evening instead of two. “Off we go!”
Steve giggled, and nodded at people clapping as they passed them on their way to the stage. Eddie was so busy looking ahead, trying to get him to the final destination safely, he missed the announcer making a joke about Steve earning the drama award by breaking his leg.
When they got on stage, Steve stood at the mic while Eddie stood at the side of the stage. He was crying, much like Steve had when he got his Grammy award.
“Sorry for taking my sweet time. As you can see, I thought I was able to do what stunt actors do and forgot that they’re actually very in shape and talented.” The room laughed. “Hey, no laughing, I didn’t win in comedy.” More laughter, louder this time. “I have to thank everyone who worked on this film; It’s truly one of those films that will continue to change lives. It was the most difficult job I have ever had, and I am so grateful for everyone who gave me the chance to prove that I could do it. I’d like to thank all my kiddos, who aren’t kiddos anymore, for all yelling at me in the group chat when I almost turned this down because I didn’t think I could do it. My agent, who goes through a lot of amazing opportunities but always manages to find the perfect one.” Steve looked over at Eddie and let himself finally tear up a little. “And Eddie. Can’t forget that guy. My support, literally.” He saw Eddie snort out a laugh between his tears. “Would not be standing here without him and not just because he had to walk me up here. Every time I thought about giving up, he made me go to one more audition or read one more script. Every time I’ve not gotten an offer I really wanted, he’s been there to remind me that there’s something better coming along. Like this one. I’d been turned down for a show I really wanted the same day I sent in the audition tapes for this role. I cried for hours on the phone with Eddie and he told me, I’ll never forget his exact words, ‘You’re meant for better and better will find you.’ And it did. But the best is you, baby. You’re the better that is at the beginning and end of all my days. I could never work again and I’d still be the happiest guy in the world because you’re mine and you want me just as much as I want you. Eight years ago, I was closeted, telling myself that the way I felt when my best friend hugged me was just because he was my best friend. Now, I’m winning an Oscar for playing a queer man in a deeply moving film about finding love for yourself even when love from others isn’t an option. I’m marrying you, that best friend who probably knew exactly what he was doing when he hugged me. And I know I’m wearing your engagement ring, and we’ve already set a date and picked the cake, but I feel like I should ask. Eddie, you’re the only one who gets me at my best, and you also get me at my worst and still love me anyway. Will you marry me?”
He watched as Eddie’s brain ran through a million options at once, finally settling on joining him at the microphone.
He pulled him against his chest, hand against the back of his head.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, it’s a yes. Fuck, yes,” Eddie sobbed out.
The crowd was cheering, and the cameras were circling around the stage getting every angle of the moment that they could.
“Next time you’re on this stage accepting an award, you’ll be Steve Munson,” Eddie teased.
“It’s got a nice ring to it,” Steve said against his shoulder.
They pulled apart enough to kiss, much like they did at the Grammys: soft, passionate, but slow.
“Do you have a secret ring hiding at Wayne’s too?”
“No, no ring. Just wanted to show the world I love you as much as you love me.”
“Oh, so it’s to show off. Got it,” Eddie poked him in the side, smirking when he laughed. “Get your trophy before they kick us off the stage.”
Steve grabbed his award, waved to the crowd with one final thank you, and let Eddie help him off the stage.
They were getting married in three months, honeymooning in four. They’d just bought their first house together, spent the last seven years renting apartments wherever life took them. They started talking about taking a break after Corroded Coffin’s next tour and Steve’s next movie so they could start a family.
They had so much to look forward to.
But most importantly, they had the backseat of a limo entirely to themselves on the way back to the hotel.
If they left a $500 tip for cleaning after, it was their business.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#ficlet#request#modern au#rock star eddie munson#actor steve harrington#fluff#marriage proposals
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ola tudo bem queria fazer um pedido onde a leitora esta insegura sobre sua aparencia com poly!Rowaelin ps: estou falando com voce pelo tradutor do Google translator I don't know my English is right
absolutely perfect
Rowaelin x Reader
Summary: You've been feeling unsure about your appearance.
Word Count: ~1k
Warnings: mentions of insecurities
A/N: Thank you so much for the request!
You tug at your shirt again, trying to adjust it before huffing in frustration. No matter what you do it won’t sit right. It doesn’t feel right, nothing does now - nothing has for a while. Almost like you’re a stranger in your own body. You stand in front of the full-length mirror, your eyes tracing your reflection. Doubt creeps in the edges of your mind as you examine every little flaw and imperfection that seems to stand out.
Tears of frustration bloom as you stand before the mirror, staring, before tugging the shirt off, tossing it into the corner to try and find another one. Again, it doesn’t seem right. Maybe better, but not enough to make you feel right. One thumb runs over the bags under your eyes, and your eyes are drawn to the slight frizz in your hair - something you don’t have time to fix.
Rowan and Aelin both have a natural confidence and you actively work not to be jealous of them.
“What’s wrong?” Aelin asks from the door, startling you. No matter what, she can always sneak up on you.
“Nothing,” you sigh, tugging on the shirt one more time. Hands squeeze your shoulders as she appears behind you, placing a kiss to the side of your neck.
“Liar.” She murmurs, lips pressing into your skin. You take a step away, eyes still fixed on her in the mirror.
“I don’t .. I don’t feel right.” You manage to say, the words slipping awkwardly off your tongue.
Aelin’s brow furrows. “What do you mean, ‘not right,’?”
“Just,” You sweep your hands down, gesturing to your body, not able to put it into words.
“Rowan.” Aelin calls over her shoulder, and the male appears in the doorway within seconds.
“Yes?” He asks, glancing back and forth between you two - likely trying to decipher if you’ve gotten into a fight again. Aelin must’ve spoken to him through the bond, because he comes over to your side, pressing a small kiss against your temple. “Talk to us,” he murmurs, one hand rubbing a comforting circle into your shoulder.
But how do you explain it? How every little thing seems to stick out today, how each comment someone’s made in the past circles through your mind on repeat? “Quit thinking so hard about it.” Aelin says, pinching your cheek and ignoring your narrowed eyes.
“Easy for you to say,” you mutter, eyes looking back at the mirror. They both seem completely comfortable in themselves, exuding both confidence and self-assurance. A thought trickles through your mind, that maybe they’ve never felt this way - that they wouldn’t, couldn’t understand. You let out a small shriek of frustration before spinning on your heel and walking out the door, leaving behind two very confused mates. What you’re wearing now will have to do, otherwise you’ll be late to your meeting.
-
“Should we go after her?” Rowan asks under his breath, watching her snatch her cloak and storm out the door.
“I don’t know.” Aelin replies, lips pressed in a tight line.
-
“What is it?” Your coworker asks, setting down the text she’d been examining.
You hold up the book, motioning to the title.
She rolls her eyes. “No. What’s bothering you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Her look says, quit bullshitting me.
Yours says, mind your business. And she does, with a wary but concerned look.
-
“Talk to us,” Aelin nearly pleads that night, watching how you read the same page several times, eyes not really comprehending what was in front of you.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” You reply, keeping your eyes firmly fixed on the line you’ve read ten times.
Rowan snatches the book out of your hand, tossing it to the side. “Bullshit. We can’t help you if you don’t tell us.”
“What makes you think I want your help?”
“If it bothers you, it bothers me. So talk.” He replies, unphased.
Your hands press against your eyes, running down your face. Both of them invade the space next to you on the couch, Aelin shifting you so your head lays against her shoulder, running her fingers through your hair. Rowan’s hand rests on your thigh, thumb rubbing circles into it.
Those same tears of frustration start pricking at the corner of your eyes, one trailing down your cheek. Aelin gently brushes it away with her thumb, “none of that,” she murmurs, her voice gentle. “What is it darling?”
You roll your bottom lip between your teeth. “I don’t feel comfortable.”
“How?” Rowan pushes.
“In my own skin, I guess.” You shrug, seeming to curl in on yourself.
“You’re perfect to us,” Aelin’s fingers wrap around your chin, pulling gently so you look at her. Her eyes dig into yours, gleaming with an intensity that both comforts and puts you on edge. “Absolutely perfect.” Her thumb runs over your cheek, before cupping the back of your head, pulling you close so your foreheads pressed together. “If anyone tells you otherwise, let me know.”
“So you can kill them?” You try to joke.
“Or worse.” Rowan mutters from behind you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders before tugging you into his chest, ignoring Aelin’s protest.
-
The next day is a formal occasion - a ball for one thing or another. Aelin holds up different dresses, looking at each color - frowning, before putting it back to find another one. You pick yours out quickly, and stand in front of that same mirror again, shifting bits of fabric around to try and get it to sit right. Aelin seems to notice your discomfort and lays gentle hands on your shoulders. “You look absolutely beautiful.” She says, her fingers ghosting down your arm, leaving goosebumps behind.
You notice she’s still wearing a dressing gown, not having picked anything out. “Thank you,” you murmur, turning to place a kiss on her cheek.
She grins, eyes lighting up, “help me pick something out,” she holds on to your hand, dragging you away from the mirror, back over towards the racks.
#rowaelin x reader#poly!Rowaelin#aelin x reader#rowan whitethorn x reader#rowan whitethorn x y/n#aelin galathynius x y/n#aelin galathynius x reader#throne of glass fic#throne of glass imagine#poly!Rowaelin x reader#rowan whitethorn#aelin galathynius#throne of glass#rowaelin#I'm nervous about this one
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Pants Down, Dicks Out, and No Regrets (ZhongChi)
Part of 'Etched in Stone'.
Having finally fucked for the first time, Zhongli and Childe can't keep their hands off each other. Too bad they get constantly interrupted.
This was a sponsored prompt from my spreadsheet. Read here on AO3. You can also, follow me on Twitter, and here on Patreon!
--
Zhongli cannot keep his hands off of him.
Childe is not complaining. Childe is also no different, fully embracing what Katya has affectionally dubbed the ‘honeymoon period’. She knew the moment she saw him post impromptu vacation in Zhongli’s teapot; post confession, and spending days in Zhongli’s sheets, tracing scars and mapping every inch of each other’s bodies. Making love with Zhongli has pulled Childe apart and forged him into a new man.
And therein lies the problem—they can’t keep their hands off of each other.
Zhongli has always been level-headed and the voice of reason. Except for now. Or yesterday. And no doubt tomorrow.
“Hey, wait—” Childe’s protest melts into a moan as Zhongli reaches down and squeezes his half-hard cock.
Impossible. Zhongli is so impossible when he’s like this because Childe is unable to say no. He’s needy and desperate for his touch, legs spreading instantly to make room for his hand.
“Darling,” laughs Zhongli against his ear, warm breath puffing against it. His tongue dips out to trace the shell, and Childe relaxes against the rough stone wall that he’s currently boxed against.
They came for takeout. Xiangling is typically speedy but backed up on orders, so they are tucked away around the corner. Zhongli pounced the moment they found themselves relatively out of sight in the cover of the alleyway.
“We—can’t.” They’re in public. Semi-public. Does the side alley count as such? No one is looking or likely to turn in this direction which is the reason Zhongli is so bold.
Zhongli traces the bulge of Childe’s cock through his trousers from base to tip. “A tease,” says Zhongli, nipping at his jaw with those wicked fangs, dragging them over his oversensitive flesh.
Childe would let Zhongli fuck him right there. He will. “I need you,” he hisses.
“Say no more,” cuts in Zhongli, his fingers tracing the waistband of his clothing.
Just as the button is undone and Childe feels the heat of Zhongli’s fingertips scraping through his pubic hair, Xiangling careens around the corner with several garbage bags in hand. She pauses. Her gaze drops to where Zhongli’s hand is down Childe’s trousers. He makes no attempt to move it.
Xiangling’s expression turns sharp. “Oh,” she says with a grin. “Well, would you look at that? Did the two of you finally shack up together? Normally I’d say I didn’t see anything but I do believe this means Lumine owes me some Mora.” She drops the trash by the waste bin in the alley before turning on her heel and making herself scarce.
Childe is mortified. “Stop—stop!” he hisses as Zhongli bursts into laughter, still intent on marking up his neck. Childe yanks at his hair and Zhongli finally relents.
“Apologies,” he says, pressing one last kiss to his throat. He is not remotely sorry. Childe knows he now sports several bruises, claims that are as clear as day. Zhongli brushes his knuckles against his flagging cock before pulling his hand from Childe’s trousers.
He’s sweet enough to refasten them. Childe pinches the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger. “A bet? Zhongli, they made a bet?”
“As others often do.” He tips Childe’s face toward his by the chin. His golden eyes are filled with mirth as he tips forward for a proper kiss against his mouth. “Our food is likely ready by now.”
“I don’t—Gods, Zhongli, I can’t look her in the face.”
Childe does, though, taking his walk of shame through Wanmin with a semblance of grace, far too hungry to let their lunch go to waste.
#
This time, they are, at least, in Childe’s apartment.
Rarely do they come here. Childe prefers the lived-in mess of Zhongli’s flat or the archaic quietness of his teapot. His own home is too neat, too pristine due to old military habits burned into his blood. Childe’s home lacks character because he rarely uses it for anything other than the occasional nap.
The moment they step through the front door, Childe is on him like a cat on cream. Zhongli’s back hits the door with a thud. He groans as Childe cups his face and kisses him stupid, swallowing his breaths, and shoving his tongue into Zhongli’s mouth.
“I need you,” whines Childe. He nips at Zhongli’s mouth which only makes the old god purr in delight. “Gods, I need you.”
They make it about three more feet before Childe sinks to his knees, unable to wait. He yanks Zhongli’s trousers open and frees his cock, licking a stripe from the base to the tip. Zhongli’s head slams against the wall. “Ajax,” he cries out, moaning as Childe swallows around the head. His hands sink into his hair, pulling at it, and Childe delights in the way his scalp burns.
Neither of them hears the key in the lock, far too lost in each other. Zhongli’s cock is snug in his throat, Childe’s nose buried in the coarse hair at his groin when the door opens.
Katya. Childe chokes in surprise, sputtering around Zhongli’s dick as he tries to pull off.
Everything is slow-motion. Zhongli tries to guide him off, wincing as Childe’s teeth catch the delicate skin of his length. Katya blinks, her eyebrows arched in surprise. In her arms are a stack of folders. Right. She isn’t used to him being there in the early evening and often drops reports off for him to look at later.
“That was… impressive. Sir.”
Childe wishes that the ground would swallow him up entirely.
Katya brushes past them as if Zhongli’s cock isn’t hanging out of his trousers. She drops the pile of paperwork on the entry table and then shuffles by with one very pointed glance from Childe’s mouth to Zhongli’s dick—which Zhongli doesn’t hide. Zhongli’s hand still rests against his head, thumbing through his bangs. Then Katya smirks, gives them a mock salute, and takes her leave.
The moment the door clicks shut behind her, Childe rests his forehead against Zhongli’s thigh. Embarrassment burns through him, white-hot and not in a pleasurable way. “I’m revoking her spare key.”
Zhongli laughs, combing through his hair, but Childe refuses to see the humor in what has been an absolute boner killer.
#
Weeks. It’s been weeks since they’ve properly fucked. Childe has all but hit his limit. And Zhongli has too—he can tell. Zhongli is just older, wiser, and better at pretending to be okay. But Childe feels the way his kisses linger and how he holds his elbow in a slightly too-tight grip.
Even Zhongli’s patience is wearing thin.
Katya pities him. “A vacation,” she says to him before stealing the stack of reports that are half a foot high on his desk. “Three days and two nights. I’ve already filed the paperwork and booked you a room at Wangshu Inn as well.”
Childe stills, his pen hovering over the paper he was about to sign. Oh, bless her. Katya knows—she always knows. He never did revoke her spare key privileges for his home and clearly, that’s worked in his favor. Or she pities him. (Both; it’s definitely both).
He manages to jot dot a squiggle that resembles his name, then he stands. “Katya,” he says, “I could kiss you.”
Her nose wrinkles. “Please don’t. And really, this is for the good of everyone else. We don’t want a repeat of a few days ago.”
Right. Zhongli came by to drop off lunch and Pantalone paid an exceedingly rare visit to the bank, only to find Childe hoisted against the wall, his trousers around one leg, and both their cocks squeezed tight in Zhongli’s hand. Needless to say, a happy ending did not come. Zhongli was, as he always seems to be, amused but Childe maintains that the resulting report wasn’t worth his dick shriveling into nothing in the heat of the moment.
“Is he still angry about that?”
“I do believe that the HR report is meant as a tease. If you were to read what Sir Pantalone wrote—”
“Absolutely not.” Because Childe can imagine.
Katya’s mouth curls into a smile. “Get out of here. I’ll handle the rest of this.”
Childe doesn’t need to be told twice.
#
“Finally,” says Childe the moment the lock is turned. “Alone. In a room. That is locked.”
Zhongli laughs as they tumble into the bed. “I do like that I can take my time with you this time,” he says into Childe’s ear, nipping at the shell of it.
Childe is too keyed up, too desperate. “Later,” he says, already tugging at Zhongli’s trousers. “It’s been too long since we’ve properly fucked. I need—”
“Darling.” Zhongli hangs over him, his gaze warm and affectionate. “Patience—”
“Is a virtue, yeah, yeah. Do you know what else is? Your dick in my ass.”
Zhongli’s face crinkles. “So needy,” he replies, tugging his shirt from his trousers.
Childe lies there and watches as he strips, revealing inch-by-inch of flesh. And Zhongli may tease him—but he’s desperate too. His shoulder reveals that the joint bleeds into charcoal. Zhongli is struggling to maintain his form which spells out a night of desperate lovemaking.
“Com’re,” slurs Childe, already drowning in the heady feel of Geo thick in the air. Zhongli goes so easily, warm against him once their clothing is fully shed.
They roll around in the sheets like horny teenagers, hands wandering, mouths latched onto each other, suckling. Zhongli is wicked; he bites at Childe’s mouth, his neck, the length of his collarbone. All the way down his front before licking the length of Childe’s cock.
And oh, he must be gone. Zhongli. Geo chokes the space as antlers glitter against his dark hair. Childe pets the length of one, pulling a deep groan from Zhongli’s mouth. Nothing is quick enough; Zhongli’s fingers trace his cock, the seam of his balls, the smooth skin underneath long enough that Childe whines impatiently.
“Please,” he mutters as a thumb settles against his hole, and Zhongli chuckles as he sucks a mark against the base of his cock.
“Ajax,” he says, teeth dragging over Childe’s skin, raising gooseflesh, “it’s been too long.”
Yes. Exactly. That’s why Childe needs his fingers now. “Old lizard,” he hisses, waving his hand to coat Zhongli’s fingers in Hydro, hoping that it paints a picture. “Please.”
“How you beg for me,” mutters Zhongli before his tongue traces from the base of Childe’s cock to the tip. “I love to hear it. And I love you.”
“I’m—oh, fuck, that’s—” Childe loses his words as a finger sinks deep into his ass. Zhongli hums as he laps at the tip of his cock, sweeping away the dripping precome for a quick taste. He looks handsome. Childe could die at the sight of him, this god between his legs, licking across the tip of his cock as if part of a feast.
Zhongli crooks his finger, pulling at his insides. A second finger joins the first, spreading his rim wide before sinking all the way to the last knuckles. Childe arches in the bed. He drops his hips, trying to ride his fingers, to force them against that spot that’ll leave him howling. Zhongli knows. He gives him a wicked smirk that should set off alarm bells.
Childe’s cock is swiftly engulfed in wet-hot heat as Zhongli seals his mouth around his dick. He bobs his head, tongue flat against the underside. Then he pulls off, fingers curling around Childe’s girth for a quick stroke. “I would like for you to fuck my mouth.”
A ridiculous way of asking for such a thing. Too neat, too proper. But Childe loves this insufferable part of Zhongli, so he just nods and tugs his face back to his cock, crying out as it’s swallowed back down. Zhongli is too good at this, his mouth stretched around his dick.
Childe can’t stop staring. He brushes back his bangs. Zhongli stares back with a liquid gold gaze, his nose pressed against his groin, the tip of Childe’s cock lodged deep. Childe imagines the bulge of it, just below the apple of his throat.
Zhongli’s nostrils flare. He chokes slightly when Childe rolls his hips gently in an experimental thrust. And then he moans, a debauched sound the bubbles around Childe’s cock before hanging in the air.
Gods. Childe presses deeper. His fingers curl around Zhongli’s antlers which only pulls another moan from deep within Zhongli’s throat as Childe yanks his face into him. Tight, hot heat. Childe melts into the sheets as Zhongli swallows around him.
It’s been long enough that Childe is annoyingly close to his end. Just at the feel of Zhongli’s mouth and the way that he chokes around him, and his fingers pulling at Childe’s rim. Even Zhongli is nearly gone too, the room glowing with his power. His claws dig into the meat of Childe’s thigh. He moans and moans as his form threatens to chip away.
“Fuck, Zhongli.” Childe lifts his hips, thrusting deep into Zhongli’s mouth. “Fuck, your mouth. You—you’re—”
The air crackles. Childe fucks Zhongli’s mouth, holding his face there firmly. And Zhongli—Zhongli is eager in the way he swallows him down. He curls his fingers inside Childe, the tips finally sweeping over his prostate. Childe jerks and cries out. Hydro slashes through the room as Childe’s Vision flares, glittering as a Crystalize reaction sparks.
And then Xiao materializes in the corner, his spear aloft in one hand and ready to pounce. “Master—”
Everything comes to a standstill. Childe yelps, scrambling for the sheets to cover himself. But Zhongli—Zhongli does nothing, holding his hips firmly against the bed. His gaze flickers over to Xiao and then back to Childe, ignoring the intrusion.
“Zhongli!”
Xiao gapes, his face beet-red as he shudders with shock. Right. He lives there, doesn’t he? And this room is just below that top level where he often lurks. Zhongli just smiles, amused, and then finally pulls out his fingers. He shifts onto his knees, yanking Childe against him.
“Are you—”
“Do you want to be interrupted?” Zhongli drags his hand down Childe’s front, making it apparent that he’s more than willing to fuck him in front of Xiao. “Haven’t you been complaining about how long it’s been? Aren’t you needy? Ajax, I am unwilling to let this opportunity slip away when you are so ready and willing.”
Childe’s gaze slips back to the corner of the room to find it blessedly empty. Xiao winked away in their distraction, embarrassed beyond measure. Childe digs his heel against the small of Zhongli’s back. “You could’ve told me he was gone. Gods, I thought—”
“Thought what?” Zhongli leans forward until his hair frames their faces. “That I’d fuck you despite him being there?” Zhongli’s heat is oppressive as he nips at Childe’s jawline. “What better a way to claim you? If they all knew, they’d leave us alone.” Then he laughs, a deep and sultry thing. “But no, darling. Seeing you like this—that is a sight for myself alone. Xiao knows his place.”
Childe swallows thickly. The implication of that churns the pleasure in his gut. He forgets just how Zhongli can be, caught between wanting to parade him around and hiding him for Zhongli alone to see. Zhongli’s teeth drag along the sensitive skin of his throat. He tilts Childe’s hips back and presses the tip of his cock to his needy hole.
Finally. Finally. Childe is so loose and pliant that Zhongli sinks his cock in with one fluid thrust.
Perfect. So full. Childe arches in the bed, crying out Zhongli’s name. He curses, immediately moving, immediately rolling his hips and trying to fuck against him. It isn’t sweet and soft lovemaking—that can come later after the high and rush of finally coming together in the absence of sex for weeks.
Zhongli groans and pulls Childe onto his cock, holding onto his hip. His other hand splays against Childe’s belly, palm flat underneath his navel. Feeling. Imagining it—something. “Ajax,” he murmurs, the utterance of his name warm and heady. Childe loves that look on his face, that half-lidded, licentious gaze that feels eons old. Honed in on him, sharp like a blade, cutting through Childe’s soul the same way that Zhongli’s cock carves a home in his insides.
The wet slap of skin, the feel of Zhongli’s balls slapping against his ass. Zhongli presses Childe’s thighs back and looks, tracing his thumb over his rim where it's stretched around his cock. “Perfect. So, so perfect. Worth the wait.”
It is. Childe yelps as Zhongli nails his prostate. “There, there—”
His cock twitches. It aches, leaking precome all over his stomach in a dribbling trail. Zhongli looks at him like a man starved as he fucks him hard and fast. Childe needed this, to be stuffed full and wrung out, to feel Zhongli’s thick cock in his throat. To be pulled apart by Zhongli’s words and the way that his claws dig into his skin. Later Zhongli will put him back together with those skilled hands when he’s nothing but putty. But for now—this is what Childe wants.
“Zhongli, I’m close. I’m so, so—” The heat in his gut is white-hot. Childe wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it, whining at the overwrought sensation. He’s shaking, desperate for release. Zhongli slows the roll of his hips and leans close, pressing his nose into his nape.
He inhales. Zhongli moans, kissing Childe’s jaw, his tongue snaking out to lap at his sweaty skin. “I love you,” he says as he rocks into Childe, addicted to saying it. “Practice,” he’d said a few weeks back. “I’m merely practicing it.” Only he isn’t, he’s just drunk on the thought of claiming such a thing so openly. Zhongli bats Childe’s hand away and takes hold of his cock instead. “Ajax, please,” he begs, as if he needs to for Childe to finish.
One stroke of Childe’s cock has him tipping over the edge. He spills into Zhongli’s hand with a cry, thighs tensing around his waist. Zhongli fucks it through him with languid punches of his dick. He traces the tip of Childe’s length with his thumb and then peels his hand back for a taste, making a show of dragging his tongue around his soiled knuckles.
“Another?” he asks, his mouth curled in a wicked grin.
Childe’s throat is so dry that he croaks. “I—no, not now. Not—” Any other time, perhaps. He loves to let Zhongli pull him to the edge over and over until he’s coming dry. But not now. Right now, Childe just wants to cling to him and soak up his warmth.
Zhongli reads him like a book. His gaze softens and his grip on Childe’s cock loosens, but a relief and a detriment. “Darling boy,” he says. “Okay, I see. Worry not.” He focuses on fucking Childe for his own completion instead, rocking into his ass until Zhongli’s breath catches and he’s spilling searing warmth inside of him.
All in all, it doesn’t last long. They rut together for a surprisingly short time. But it feels like ages. Childe lies spent in the bed, a rubbery, loose-limbed mess. Zhongli hangs over him and brushes his bangs back before dipping close to kiss his brow.
“Fuck,” says Childe finally. “I—Gods. That better not happen again.”
Zhongli hisses as he pulls out, a soft whine spilling from his lips. He flops to the bed beside Childe, ignoring the mess. “Xiao?” he asks.
“No—” Childe winces. “I mean, yes. And Katya too, but it’ll definitely happen again whether we want it to or not. I just meant going weeks without a proper fuck.”
“Making love—”
“It’s okay to call it fucking, Zhongli.”
Zhongli laughs and pulls him close, burying his face into the pillow next to Childe’s ear. It’s a little awkward. His antlers are in the way because Zhongli hasn’t yet regained his composure. His fingers trace idle patterns against Childe’s side. “Towels,” mutters Zhongli, his voice slightly slurred.
He must be tired. He’s fastidious when it comes to cleaning and Zhongli doesn’t actually need sleep, but he’s already dozing against Childe’s shoulder. Childe hums softly as he pulls the sheets up. “It’s fine.”
“The sheets, Ajax…” But Zhongli’s voice tapers off.
“It’s a hotel. For once, we have no responsibilities here. In fact, we’re on vacation—the both of us.”
Zhongli blinks at him slowly, blearily, his expression lax and exhausted. “We’ll have to thank Miss Ekaterina,” he says softly.
“Yeah, but later. For now rest, and then you can do whatever it is you wanted to do to me earlier.”
That garners a reaction. Zhongli’s eyes wrinkle around the edges, glinting with mirth. “Oh? Do tell me Ajax—what is it you think I wanted to do?”
“Do you not understand the word rest?”
“I do not need rest.”
“But I do. You did a number on me. And, my dick needs to recover from that look of horror Xiao shot in my direction.”
A soft chuckle from Zhongli. “He is unused to seeing me so compromised.”
“Compromised,” repeats Childe slowly.
“When it comes to you? Always. I don’t indulge with others in such sordid ways. Remember the bank? The alleyway? The—”
Childe pushes at Zhongli’s face playfully. “I get it. I make your old bones all horny.”
Zhongli brushes his knuckles over the rise of Childe’s cheek. “As it were, we didn’t intend to not fuck—” Childe bursts into laughter because it sounds absurd coming from his mouth. “—it was merely bad luck. Nonetheless, it worked out.” Zhongli kisses the tip of his nose and Childe all but melts. “And, as promised, I’ll pull you apart later,” continues Zhongli. “Now that the fucking is out of the way, I’ll—”
“Okay, okay, I get it. Stop saying it like that.”
They kiss again, all tongues and teeth, and wandering hands as they come down from their highs. Zhongli moans into his mouth. Sweeps a hand down the length of Childe’s leg as he tugs it over his hip, a little awkward because they still lay on their sides.
“I thought we were resting,” says Zhongli as if he didn’t start this.
“This is resting,” counters Childe.
And it is—it’s soft and sweet and lazy. Zhongli laughs into his mouth, tongue sweeping across his. And that’s what they do until they're wasted in the sheets, too tired for anything more than short pecks against each other’s lips.
“Worth the wait,” said Zhongli earlier when his cock was settled so deep that Childe saw stars.
Yes, thinks Childe. Worth the wait and more.
But. They have to talk to Katya and Xiao. And Childe is definitely revoking key privileges to his home.
#Cavalierious Fanfic#genshin impact#genshin impact fanfiction#genshin fanfic#genshin#zhongchi#zhongli/childe#genshin smut
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Please Don't Leave Me
AO3 Mirror
tags: daddy kink, semi public sex, yandere, breeding kink, dirty talk,graphic descriptions of violence
Summary: John thought he could keep fucking office for months at a time. You finally had enough and left him before he returns.
You gasped as the Hitman pinned you against the wall. He long since hiked your legs around his waist, pants open around where his dick split juicy brown lips apart. He was buried deep in your pussy, making it weep noisily around his dick. The noise was loud in the alley, gooey pussy noises filling John’s ears as he fucks you against the wall.
“Can he make your cunt cry for him, the way I do? Does he know I can make you cry for me,” John whispered in your ear and he ground his tip into the ring of your cervix, making stars dance across your vision
You hadn’t meant to end up here. You really just went to touch up your makeup in the restroom, and had. But when you walked out the door, your ex boyfriend was standing outside the door. He’d been stone faced as his eyes took in your outfit of the night.
You knew he recognized everything you had on, not because he bought it, but the men before him did. The silver hourglass heels one of your exes had gotten you. The glittering emerald green spaghetti strap dress with a sweetheart neckline that puts your breasts on display in a very tasteful way. You even had your toes done in that pretty ombre nude to black that he loved.
At one point John had expressed his displeasure on you wearing gifts from another man some 6 months into your relationship, and you’d compromised, by retiring them. You boxed them all away after he bought you several other things for you.
And there you were before him, bare of anything he bought you. Bare of the claim he’d put on you.
Next thing you knew, John snatched you from the bathroom and here you were betting your walls beat down in an alley behind the restaurant.
His hands worked over your titties, pinching and squeezing your nipples the way you love.
“Answer me, Y/n. Does that man know how to treat my pussy?” As if the emphasizehis point, he fucked forwards, until his hips were flush against yours and grinded the fat head into your gooey pussy.
It drew a sob from black painted lips, your body shook in ecstasy.
A hard tweak to your nipples. “Does he watch you drip all over his fingers?
A bit to your neck. “Does he eat it from the back like you love?”
A lick of a hot tongue across his bite. “Does he sit you on his face, until you're drowning him in this sweet pussy, you’ve addicted me to?”
Finally you sobbed out his name.
“Jardani~”
John grabbed your jaw and made you look at him. He held your gaze as he slowly stroked inside your cunt. His dark gaze swallowed yours. You could see nothing—Feel nothing, experience nothing outside of him. “Do you know I thought of you everyday I was gone.”
It was a statement, not a question, said in a soft tone.
“I missed you everyday,” He whispered into the space between your lips. “Thought of coming home to you sleeping in my bed,” he continued, groaning softly at the way your muscles contracted around him.
“Sliding between these beautiful brown thighs to let this pussy know how much I missed her.”
You whine at the thought, hating that he knew how much you love when he put his mouth on you.
“But instead I come back to an empty house.” The dark edge returned to his voice.
“All your stuff was gone. You left all the gifts I had gotten you.” His hips grew faster with each stroke, earnestly fucking you against an alley wall. “I even bought you more gifts to apologize for being gone so long, Sweetheart.” The slick wet sound of your pussy was at its loudest. Sloppy and so noisy that if anybody walked by, you were sure they’d be able to hear exactly what was happening.
“They’re all waiting for you back home, Baby.” His tip pressed eagerly into your cervix , pulling gasping moas from your throat. “But instead of me finding you at one of your homegirl’s houses, you made me come out here and see you getting ready to fuck another man.”
The look on his face hasn’t changed. Possessive look in his eyes as he gazed into your own stead fast as he watched you fall apart on his dick. He leaned in and kissed you. You whine as he bit your plump bottom lip in a silent demand of entry. The long slick appendage licked sinfully into your mouth. You relished in the intimate way your tongues wound together, before he pulled away.
He was a hair's breadth away, lips almost meeting again, before pulling away completely. He unwrapped your legs from his waist and pulled out of you completely.
You’re left completely bereft, so close to the cumming, before he roughly twists you around. You’re forced to place both palms against the wall, bent in half at the waist as John hikes your dress to the small of your back. Your bare ass and pussy were exposed to the cold night air and a shiver ran up your spine, before Jon’s warmth returned
You felt the fat head of his dick pressed back into you and a punched out noise clawed its way out of your chest.
“Jardani—Daddy please—!”
Rough hand crawled up the front of your torso and dexterous fingers found the hard peaks of pretty dark brown nipples.
He teased them with the pads of his fingers, before twisting them in that painful way that made you ripple around his dick.
"Do you know what I wanted to do when I saw you with that man?" His voice was breathless as he fought to keep composure within the perfect grip of your pussy.
“I thought about walking up during your dinner and picking you up. Sitting in your chair before forcing this pretty pussy down on my dick.” You make a distressed noise that he ignored.
“I wanted to put my gun between his eyes and make him get on his knees. Make him kneel between our legs so he got a front row seat to the pussy he’ll never fucking touch, with my gun between his lips. Wouldn’t that have been fun, Sweetheart,” John rambles as he gazes down at you jiggling ass. He can't pull his eyes away from the hypnotic rippling of your cheeks on each harsh thrust of his hips.
Your whole frame shudders at your ex’s words. Terrified and aroused.
“I bet even with a gun in his mouth he’d get off to the sight of your pussy going gooey around my dick. Take his dick out and stroke himself how beautiful you are getting fucked. I’d let him too. Encourage it even. It’s not as if he’d ever be able to satisfy you, right Y/n?”
You whined hips rolling back to meet his thrusts, desperate and horrified at insanity leaving John’s mouth.
“Fucking you until your gushing all over my dick. Gushing right in his face. Watch tears roll down his cheeks as he fucks his fist to completion. Make him watch as I cum deep inside you, watch it overflow and leak out around me.” John was pressed against you, mouth pressed against your ear.
His stroke was short and aborted. Shallow thrusts he continuously acquaints his tip with your cervix, big deadly hands clutching you to him. Your breath was getting punched out of you, each time he filled you and your small pleasure ladened voice filled the alley in the abandoned night air.
“Jardani, p—please. I—I don’t understand,” you stuttered out, brain wanting to give into the rapture being forced on you.
“And when he’s seen what you look like after, I’ve made you cream on my dick,” he continued as if you didn’t speak. “I’ll blow his goddamn brains out.”
His voice was darker than anything you’d ever heard. His hand was on your throat, squeezing. Oxygen was slowly being cut off from your brain and it was heightening the approach of your orgasm, doing nothing to stop the terror from creeping up your spine.
“You weren’t going to fuck him, Sweetheart,” he sounded deranged through his own pleasure. “You aren’t out here when I’m away, trying to give Daddy’s pussy away?” His fingertips dug deeper into the veins in your dark neck and oxygen ceased its arrival to your brain.
Your pussy twitched rapidly around his dick as you struggled to answer him. Voice failing you in lieu of the way his hand cradled your neck and the feel of him stroking you out. All you could do was wheeze, starry eyed.
John wasn’t having any of it.
He stopped fucking you. Let himself rest inside you, right up against your womb, and asked again.
“She’s mine isn’t she Sweet thing? The wet ass pussy is mine, isn’t she?” He watched dispassionate as tears slid down your face in fear, arousal and frustration and looses his grip on your neck. He watched as your head lolled back against his shoulder and you moaned out.
“N—No one else—! I haven’t fucked—Haven’t let anyone touch me,” you whined at him, tears of frustration tracking your cheeks.
He started slow stroking into you again. “And why is that Darling?” His hand secured around your throat again with less pressure than last time.
“God—fuck! Because she’s yours. Your to fuck, yours to breed. To make fuckin’ gooey on this dick, Daddy.”
John growled pleased in his chest as he humped into you fast and slipped a hand to your slick swollen clit. The rough pads of two fingers gently rubbed small circles into it and you felt your knees try and buckle, but the way jaw held on to you wedged you between him and the wall.
JOhn is fucking you with the clear intent of making you both cum now, all the while growing unhinged filth into your ear.
“We’re canceling the lease at your apartment, you won’t need it when you’re pregnant and living with me.”
“Going to drag you back home after this and tie you to our bed. Breed you until you're fat with our baby, So you can never leave me.”
“Can’t wait for these to get nice and fat with milk. Gonna drink you dry until you give birth.”
Your mind spun as the hitman continued on in the same vein, working you towards orgasm.
Those rough finger pads worked at your clit sending you into a wave of crashing ecstasy as you shook apart on the hitman’s dick.
He gentled you through your climax, kissing lovingly along your neck, fingers never stopping as he drew your enjoyment out and hips never ceasing their rutting into you.
“There you are Babygirl, take it. It’s all yours.” Impassioned kisses up your neck.
“My good girl. Such a pretty thing you make, like this.” a free hand groping the round soft parts of your body.
“You treat me so well, Y/n. Love the feeling of your stroking across my dick, Sweetheart. Drives me up the goddamned walls.” Sharp staccato rutting into your
pussy. The man’s breathy forlorn words were panted into your ear as fucked you harder.
The head of his dick kissed the plushy ring of your cervix repeatedly, making your sloppy walls flutter and shutter round him.
“Fuck Y/n, all I could think about these passed three months, was this pussy. I missed her so much, Babygirl. So happy you let me see her again.” He whispered raggedly into your ear as he fucked you. “Missed your more though. Can’t wait t o take you home.”
You whimpered knowing very well that the man meant to ensconce you away at his home, no matter what you said.
“I’ll keep you safe and full sweetheart, you just have to be good and take everything I give you.” John’s voice strained further as rutted into your cunt, faster. His harsh groan filled your ears as his hips stuttered against your plump ass before he buried himself deep in you. You felt his dick stiffen and twitch against your cervix as load after load of cum filled you.
It filled you until you felt it start to ooze out around John’s still twitching length and John turned your head to pull you into a filthy kiss. The angle was awkward and, but it did nothing to deter the man. He invaded your mouth. Tasted you like you were his last meal.
It took your breath away and made you melt into his embrace.
Eventually he pulled away, before pulling out of you. The warm sticky deluge dripped dribbled from your abused pussy, at his absence and you felt your face heat in embarrassment. John just tutted muttering about getting you a plug, before tugging the dress back into place.
John took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders, before hoisting into his arms in a bridle carry. Carrying out of the alley you see his car parked some feet away.
With one hand he opens the door and bundles you into the passenger's seat, with a sweet kiss to the forehead. He fastened your seat belt before gently closing the car door. Walking around the car, he looked back to the restaurant’s entrance to see your date surrounded by several large men in gray suits, his obnoxiously sparkling suit an eyesore under the street lamps.
He caught sight of John and John nodded to him, with a mouth,“Be seeing you,” before climbing into his mustang. He gave the apoplectic man’s face one last look in the mirror before looking at your still blissed out form curled up in his passenger’s seat and pulling off.
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#John wick x Black reader#john wick x black y/n#john wick x black female reader#john wick x reader#john wick#black reader#black fanfic writer#moots🖤🖤#john wick smut
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For the Hurt/Comfort Dialogue Prompts, #27. Orym and Ashton.
I'm obsessed with how Taliesin clearly rolled an insight check last episode to see if Ashton noticed that Orym didn't sleep. Carry the halfling, let him sleep while they travel. Put him in a Baby Bjorn if you must. Bonus points for Orym being worried about Ashton's chronic pain.
(That said, I'm in Ashrym Hell right now and I love Hurt/Comfort. I would take stories about them for any of these prompts and chew on them for days. 😂)
27 "I'm going to carry you, okay?"
Not sure how much this is going to help with your hell since I write them platonic. But here we go. (And I don't use the quote directly, but the spirit is there, okay?)
Prompt
Ashton falls back from the group, just enough to get a quiet private conversation, as Orym does his little catch-up jog for the fifth time, that they've seen.
Once he's in range, they don't even hesitate to scoop him up like a sack of potatoes, held casually under one arm. There's a squeak and some flailing from the little halfling fighter, but it sure as fuck isn't enough to make them drop their impromptu package.
"Ashton?" Orym warily asks once he's assessed that he's not going to slip free without effort.
"Can't have you constantly falling behind," Ashton says, explaining everything and nothing in that way he's practiced for years.
"I'm keeping up," Orym stubbornly insists. "So you can put me down. I'm-"
"If you finish that with 'fine,' I'm gonna pinch you hard enough to fucking bruise," Ashton threateningly cuts him off.
Orym's lips thin as he seriously considers saying he's fine anyways. A bruise would give him something to press on-
Apparently he'd paused too long, or the thoughts were clear on his face, because in a quick movement, Ashton bounces Orym, driving the breath from his lungs as his armor slaps against the solid stone of their arm, both of which are much harder than his own chest.
"Don't you fucking dare," they growl. The previous threat wasn't empty, they don't really do empty threats, but that didn't mean they wanted to carry it out either. "No one here is fucking fine. You having to jog to catch up with us when you usually have no issue keeping pace with bigger folk is a pretty fucking obvious tell."
And Orym just kind of goes limp once baldly faced with his performance failure.
"This can't be comfortable," he quietly says.
"I mean, there's probably better holds than this," Ashton says with a shrug that lifts Orym a little. "But considering you're maybe half as heavy as my hammer fully kitted and soaking wet, I could do this all day." Which is a vague threat that if the halfling doesn't cooperate and give his little legs a fucking break, they will carry him until the group makes camp.
"...So walking isn't an option for me right now, is it?" Orym asks resignedly. He doesn't much believe in his ability to out-stubborn the genasi while fighting sleep deprivation.
"Glad we can come to an understanding," Ashton answers with a shit-eating grin.
"About that better hold..." Orym prompts after a few moments, squirming a little bit in an attempt to keep an edge of his armor from pressing into his torso quite so much.
"Sure. ...Would my hair be a problem for sitting up on my shoulders?" Ashton agrees, gesturing to the crystalline points on his head.
"I... don't think so? Breast plate should keep anything from poking me. But your shoulder-" Orym says, considering the gold thickly webbed over their left shoulder, the thin lines of gold that wrap their upper right arm.
"Will be fucking fine," Ashton steamrolls over the worry. "Like I said, you're a light little fucker. Not gonna be a problem."
"...Okay," Orym agrees after a silent breath in and out.
A bit of shuffling and Orym is seated up on Ashton's shoulders, legs dangling around their neck, his breast plate gently pressed into his chest by the volume of crystal hair before him.
It's a careful balancing act on Orym's part to not dig his heels into Ashton's chest or grip onto their head or scarred shoulders to remain upright through the sway of their stride.
Orym has to ride out the huff Ashton releases a few minutes later.
"You can grip my hair. As long as you're not trying to jerk my head around, I won't even really feel it," they grumble. Then their hands come up and press his feet tighter against their chest. "And as long as you aren't fucking kicking me, this is fine too."
"Okay." And small hands wrap around amethyst crystal, establishing a stabilizing grip while leaving his feet in the tightened position Ashton had guided them into.
Orym is starting to resign himself to the idea that Ashton doesn't actually want special treatment over his chronic pain, just a willingness to back off when he's not in the mood for touch.
At least from people he trusts. The genasi still avoids all contact possible with strangers.
A while later, Ashton chuckles as softly as they can, trying to keep their upper body still to maintain a potentially precarious balance with their hands swallowing tiny calves.
After all, he can hear soft snores coming from above his head.
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Steve walks into their shared apartment to a scene of Eddie face down on their surprisingly plush, thrifted sofa. Various campaign notebooks, sketches, and dnd guides left to spill out his bag onto the floor.
"I'm home!"
The only response is a tepid "hHh." as Eddie further burrows his face between the cushions and backrest of the couch.
Setting aside his bag and keys, Steve strides over to his boyfriend.
"What's that all about?"
The huddled form emits another "hn."
"Is that so?"
"mm."
He takes a seat beside Eddie’s head. Runs a soothing hand along the other’s shoulders, fingers splayed wide. Applies pressure with the heel of his palm.
Eddie melts further, this time with a minor release of tension. The presence of the other already a balm in itself.
“Does that mean game day ended badly?”
Still mostly curled ridged and with as little motion as possible, Eddie shakes his head negative.
“No?” Steve asks, incredulous. “So then your 9-hour ‘Super, Ultimat-‘ uh… shit… ‘Super. Ultra. Perfect-‘“
“sumpoe.” Eddie corrects punitively into the cushion.
“Sorry, so then your 9-hour ‘Super, Ultra, Mega, Perfect, One-Shot Extravaganza’ went off exactly as you wanted. And then instead of napping in our comfortable bed--that you’d insisted on slathering in pillows because you, and I quote, ‘Wanted to feel like you were being smothered by geese and also just like the jumbles of texture’--you chose to stay out on the couch? Do I have that right?”
“mhm. too bright. couldn’t make it.”
Steve glances at the bay window adorning their living room-kitchen area. Thankfully, enough time seems to have passed since Eddie returned home. The sun now set, the room awashed in its final red hues.
Even still, as Steve manages to coax him to turn over onto his back, Eddie’s face remains tense. With a sneaking suspicion, Steve smooths out the wrinkle in Eddie’s brow and prompts further, “Yeah? Anything else?”
“head hurts. stomach. nauseous.”
Yea, exactly as he figured.
“Babe, did you eat anything today? During the 9 hours y’all were at the table?”
…
“was distracted.”
Steve sighs then gives a reprimanding pinch to Eddie’s cheek. Not hard. He has some mercy for his ailing boyfriend.
Said boyfriend retaliates with a half-hearted, protesting squawk and grabs the offending hand, cuddling into it and biting Steve’s pinky finger.
Steve lets it happen.
Instead he choses to stare into the kitchen, subconsciously rubbing small circles into Eddie’s temple even as he’s nibbled. Thinks over what supplies and lighter foods they currently have.
Half to himself, he comments “I think we still have some saltines left from Robin’s Soup Experiments last week. That should help soak up the stomach acid and get something in your stomach.” He looks back at Eddie laid across the cushions. “You can take some pain meds after that if you want.”
“mkay.”
Steve goes to stand, except-
“Eds, you’ll have to stop biting my hand if you want me to go get the crackers.”
“nope. mine now.” Another, harder bite is given to the digit.
“Hey- Ow, ow, Eddie, Eds, stop.” A responding, equally harder pinch but this time to Eddie’s nose, lifting up and extricating his finger as he does so.
“haaa- cheater. appreciate my love bites.”
With a snort, Steve walks towards the kitchen and begins to collect his well-used, headache-relieving arsenal.
- - -
Later, after saltines and buttered pasta have been eaten and hot towels have cooled, the two lay cuddled in their indeed comfortable and pillow laden bed. Strong, dexterous fingers card through the other’s curls. Gentle nails along the scalp to chase away any lingering pain.
“Thanks, Stevie. You’re a true lifesaver.” He snuggles into Steve’s chest just that little bit further. “My brain and stomach would have exploded without your care.”
“Well we can’t have that, you need those.”
“Then I’d never be able to DM another Sumpoe day for the group again.” Eddie untucks his head just enough to look at Steve imploringly. “Then you’d have to inherit the job of Dungeon Master as my next of kin and they’d Eat. You. Alive, Stevie!”
“Damn. Guess I better get to studying then, just in case.” The sarcasm drips off in waves.
Not one to be deterred, Eddie sits up and over Steve in a flash. Eyes sparkling with mischief and new ideas as his hands come up on either side of Steve’s face and grab into his jawbone. The hand that was running through Eddie’s hair now dislodged to his shoulder.
“Steve, Stevie-love, Bunny-bear, you’re so, so right. You need to be my DM assistant for our next one shot.”
Matching his level of dramatics, Steve presses back into his designated pillow and drapes a hand across his forehead.
“Noooo. Don’t make me do it, I’ll be the one to pass away. I can’t keep up with all your funny little lizard voices.”
“But Stevieeee,” Eddie whines. He leans down so he’s level with Steve’s ear, feels the other shiver as he breathes out before adopting one of his ‘funny little lizard voices’ “I wants it!!”
Caught off-guard, Steve breaks, laughing as he flips them. “You’re such a nerd.”
Maintaining his kobold voice and batting his lashes, “But Stevie, I’m your little lizard nerd.”
“Hmm and damned if that doesn’t make me the lucky one.”
And should the next time Eddie hosts another Sumpoe, he happens to find a perfectly packed lunch with tidbits of all his favorite snacks, well then Steve’s just not ready to accept that inheritance yet.
#forgetting to eat all day due to distractions and giving yourself a hunger headache? couldn't be me (i forgot how much they SUCK)#sorry Eddie get projected onto (affectionately )#thank you everyone for your kind words on the last fic#i offer you more slice of life because apparently that's what i keep finding myself writing lol#Steve ‘I will pack my loved ones lunches to show I care’ Harrington#in the way of#he never had anyone pack him a lunch as a kid so he would be over the moon to do it for others yet externally begrudging (and only a select#he’d be the type to think the little notes you can buy to put in your kid’s lunch are THE SHIT (he’s right)#he’d write sassy little responding comments on all the over the top motivational saying ones#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steddie fic#my writing#my posts
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