#i hope it will comfort u a tiny little bit
Text
infatuation - part 1
☁︎ delinquent!ellie williams x preppyfem!reader, enemies to lovers trope
☁︎ smut, angst, tiny bit of fluff
☁︎ summary: don’t let your boyfriend stop you from finding your girlfriend.
☁︎ warnings: 18+ only. kissing, fingering & oral (r!recieving), masturbation, mentions of weed and smoking weed, mentions relationships w/ men, feelings, kinda mean ellie but then shes nice again, arguing and yelling kinda (let me know if i miss any more necessary warnings ty baes)
☁︎ a/n: i wrote this in like one day. hope u all enjoy this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it! ya nasties ;)
☁︎ word count: 4,347
☁︎ 1/2 - part 2
you swore to yourself you’d never let yourself get involved with the university’s infamous delinquent— ellie williams. but you should’ve known that’d be hard to avoid, knowing she was just in reach as your roommate’s best friend.
ellie was always, and i mean always, there in your dorm. either chilling with dina, talking with dina, or, much to your disliking, smoking with dina.
ever since you ran into her on the first day of dorm move-in, she was constantly there, bickering with you, poking at you, and judging you for every little thing you did.
ellie had this image of you; an image of this perfect, high maintenance, always put-together, prissy, goody-two-shoes. it was far from the truth, well, kind of.
you did pride yourself on being one of the smartest girls on campus, and being very active in numerous extracurriculars at school. you were in the student body, the recycling club, the campus book club, the health club, the cooking club— you were just in a lot of clubs.
but it would be an understatement to say that ellie williams is everything opposite of you. she was on the other side of the spectrum you were on.
ellie williams was aggressive, a smartass, foulmouthed, risky, and usually up to trouble. always going to the dean’s office for a fight she probably started. the only reason why she hadn’t been kicked out from campus was because her stepdad is the dean's brother. don’t get yourself wrong, she was brilliant being an engineering major. but she was always doing something she wasn’t supposed to as if it fueled her drive.
you unlocked the door to your dorm, greeted with a fog of smoke. hacking out a cough, you switch on the lights, “dina!! what’d i tell you?” you lecture, stomping over towards the window to open it, “if you’re gonna smoke in here, at least open the window!”
“sorry, roomie,” dina coughed out, “we were just hotboxing.”
you turned towards the pair, criss-crossed on dina’s bed, and furrow your brows, “what? hotboxing?”
“yea, you know, smoking weed ’til the room fills up with smoke, so the high is more enhanced.” dina explained, you tilted your head to the side, still not fully comprehending whatever hotboxing was.
the brunette girl leaned against the wall, giving you a smirk. “c’mon, dee. don’t waste your breath explaining,” ellie retorted, “i’m sure lil miss perfect here never smoked or drank before.”
you scoffed, crossing your arms, “for your information, i have drank before.”
“oh yea? when was the last time, princess?” god, you hated that nickname. you hated the way it made you red in the cheeks.
“….at church.” you muttered quietly, sending ellie and dina into a fit of laughter.
“did you hear that, dee? at church! she said the last time she drank alcohol was at church!” ellie let out a boisterous laugh, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
“good one, princess.”
you huffed, rolled your eyes, and rummaged around your side of the room to search for what you were looking for in the first place.
was it so wrong for you to not drink or smoke weed? you didn’t think negatively about anyone who used it, but you just didn’t feel comfortable using something that had such an effect on you. you wanted autonomy over your body at all times.
bingo. you found the cropped white baby tee you wanted to change into, finding it more comfortable than the scratchy sweater you had on currently. turning away from the chatter of dina and ellie, you lifted the sweater above your head, tossed it in your laundry bag, and slipped into the more fitted and more comfortable white tee.
standing in front of your mirror, you checked your outfit. you thought a simple t-shirt and black yoga pants were cute enough to hang out with jacob in. you fixed your hair, and looked up at the corner of your mirror, your eyes meeting green ones.
ellie bit her lip, watching the beautiful yet stubborn girl in front of her. she couldn’t tear her eyes away from you. you just looked so goddamn beautiful. she couldn’t help but take a peek at the way your bare back curved or how soft your skin looked as your sweater slid off your body. ellie definitely didn’t complain about the yoga pants either and how they hugged your ass and thighs in all the right places.
knowing she was staring at you, you hiked your yoga pants higher and bent over a little, reapplying your favorite shimmering lipgloss in the mirror. you weren’t sure what came over you, but the feeling of knowing ellie was watching you, gave you butterflies in your belly.
you see her smirk and break eye contact with you. picking up your backpack and your ‘Organic Chemistry 101’ textbook, you bid dina a goodbye.
“i’ll be back later tonight dina, don’t wait up for me.” you said, slipping your shoes on.
ellie cleared her throat, “where you headed off to?”
“pi kappa alpha frat.” you met ellie’s eyes. they looked disappointed, but then quickly rolled to the side, masking whatever sadness you thought you saw.
“hm, i see,” ellie commented, “gonna go blow some frat dude’s cock, huh?”
you groaned, “ugh, no, idiot. i’m just gonna go study.”
“mhm, whatever you say, princess.” you open the door and leave, hearing the sound of dina yelling ‘be safe’ right before you left.
walking down the corridor, you thought to yourself ‘jacob isn’t that bad’. i mean, you both aren’t in a relationship by any means. you would describe it as ‘situationship’. jacob was nice, funny sometimes, cute, had a nice body, and was cool. him as a boyfriend though? you weren’t sure about that. he was good company, provided mediocre sex, and was nice to talk to, well, usually he’d talk about hockey and you’d listen. but that’s beside the point. you’re content with this situation, right?
-
walking back to your dorm from what was probably the worst sex of your life was, quite frankly, embarrassing. you spend time changing into a cute outfit, fixing your makeup, and spritzing on a little bit of your favorite expensive perfume to show up to this dude’s room with him reeking of sweat and ham. you were disappointed, to say the least.
yet, you stayed anyways, unsure of what even compelled you to do that. you stayed for the company, and that company starts rubbing on your ass and tits not even 5 minutes into the netflix show. eventually, you give in, feeling in the mood from a little making out, and you were met with 3 thrusts and cum on your stomach.
needless to say, you left in a hurry. currently cuddled under your pink duvet with your earphones on, you end up scrolling about on instagram, tapping to like and swiping up to comment on your friends posts.
while aimlessly scrolling, a picture from @e.williams pops up on your timeline. you study her picture in fascination.
it was a mirror picture of her in the gym, she had her hair up in her usual half-up half-down style with a tight tank top accentuating her physique as she was flexing her arms. gosh, how could someone so annoying be so gorgeous? your eyes trail to her arms and hands. and so fine? you double-tap on the picture, looking at it for a second more before scrolling past to the next post.
your phone vibrates, and you check the notification from your instagram dm’s.
@e.williams: you checking me out or something ??
you scoff, heat rising to your cheeks. luckily, ellie wasn’t here to see that, or else you would’ve never heard the end of it. you type back.
in ur dreams idiot
you lay in bed closing your eyes, and somehow, your mind drifts off to that annoying green-eyed girl.
your mind goes to the way she looks at you when she thinks you don’t notice, or how even though she comments on everything you do, she’s so attentive about it. your mind plays in your head the way she calls you those stupid nicknames, and as much as you claim to hate them, you can’t deny the way it makes your heart flutter.
then, your mind floats to the corner of your brain that you keep locked away. you think about the way ellie bites her lip when she gets anxious, how better her lips would feel pressed onto yours. you think about the way she flexes her arms and hands, wondering how they would feel stroking your most intimate parts.
you find your hand inside your panties. luckily, dina was in the communal showers, doing her 25-step skincare routine. knowing you had the time, your hand goes down to your wet heat, rubbing your clit in slow circles.
you close your eyes, picturing her in your head, imagining her fingers working on you instead. you think about how perfect she’d look above you, looking down at you with adoring eyes. you knew she’d take good care of you. you suppress the need to moan by biting down on the duvet.
even when she wasn’t here, ellie had a way of drawing out unrecognizable responses from you. your finger still rubbing circles on your clit, an orgasm began to bubble in your stomach. you picked up the pace, legs beginning to shake, “fuck, ellie..” you manage to moan out as you finish on your fingers.
gosh, what was this girl doing to me?
-
it was saturday night and you had managed to get another date with jacob. you rejected him at first, but he was very persistent and promised ‘mind-blowing sex’ and takeout from one of the best restaurants in town. you obliged, clearly in it only for the takeout.
you thought it’d be a good idea to hang out with him. his hockey stories distracted you from the real person you had your mind stuck on, ellie.
you thought about her all the time, it gave you a migraine. you couldn’t look her in the eyes anymore without feeling nervous. luckily, you managed to avoid her all week, hanging out at one of your good friend’s dorm room ’til you knew the coast was clear.
you didn’t let yourself think about what it would be like being in a relationship with ellie williams. she didn’t like you at all, not in that way anyway. she’d probably make some comment like ‘hell would freeze over before i even look at you like that’. the two of you together would be a recipe for disaster. you literally despised each other.
smoothing down your dress, you smiled at the mirror in satisfaction. you went over to your desk and sat down, getting ready to apply some light makeup.
hearing the door open and close, you assumed it was dina.
“damn, who died?”
your head turns and meets those stupid green eyes and that stupid smirk adorned with those stupid freckles that make your stupid heart race a little faster. god, you were so stupid.
“ha ha, very funny,” you snapped, “what are you doing here, anyways?”
“dina doesn’t get off work for a couple of hours and i didn’t have jackshit to do, so i thought i would wait for her here,” ellie plops down on dina’s bed.
“hell, no. get out,” you demanded, pointing to the door. you really just wanted her to leave so you could let go of the breath you’ve been holding. it made you anxious being alone with her and the fact that she wore that stupid blue button-up that made her look so good didn’t make anything better either.
“chill out, princess,” ellie said leaning back against dina’s head board, “you won’t even notice i’m here.”
you huffed in frustration, trying to hide the crimson creeping up on your cheeks. you proceeded to get your mind off the brunette by continuing your makeup, intently dabbing your concealer in, and carefully curling your lashes. you pat your face gently with some powder and brush out your brows, once in a while looking to the side of your mirror, catching ellie looking at you before she quickly looks away, pretending to be on her phone.
“gettin’ all dolled up for your lil’ boyfriend?” she asks dryly, still looking down at her phone.
“wouldn’t you like to know?”
“please, do enlighten me, princess.” you swallow hard, “i’ll have you know that i’m going out with jacob anderson tonight.”
“no fucking way, is that the shithead you’re seeing from pi kappa alpha?” she says, surprised with wide eyes.
“mhm,” you hummed in confirmation, still rummaging in your makeup.
“why am i even surprised, you did always gravitate towards the assholes.”
“what’s that supposed to mean?”, you paused and raised a brow.
“you go for assholes,” she stated, “do i need to spell it out for you?”
“jacob is not an asshole, he’s really nice.” you muttered, patting on some blush. “he’s hell of a lot nicer than you.”
okay, you knew that was a lie. but you had to think of a way to get her off your back.
“m’yeah, i highly doubt that. he’s a fucking tool,” she says nonchalantly, “where’s he even taking you anyways?”
“he asked me to meet up with him at the frat house, we’re gonna watch netflix and eat takeout and stuff,” you admit.
“you fuckin’ with me?” ellie looks surprised and almost pissed.
“no, why would i?”
“are you serious? it’s pouring rain outside and he asked you to come over,” she points out, “the asshole didn’t even have the decency to come over here and walk with you himself.”
your eyes look out the window, barely registering the pitter-patter of the rain hitting your window. you didn’t even know it was raining and you wore a dress. your mind was so consumed with classes, ellie, clubs, ellie, student body, ellie, and ellie. the small details just flew right over your head.
you stay silent, and she just gives you a look. a look you couldn’t decipher.
“you’re a real piece of work, y’know that?” ellie retorts, crossing her arms. jesus, why did she have to look so good like that?
“what’d i do this time? please, share with the class.” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“you just go for guys who treat you like garbage or who’re way out of your league.” she argues, “they’re either too stupid or don’t give a fuck about you.” ouch. that kind of stung.
you close your eyes, waiting before answering back at her, “can you stop it?! just for once. stop judging every single thing i do.” you yell, exasperated.
ellie’s eyes widen and she lets out a laugh, which sets you off even more.
“you think this is funny? you always make some snide comment about me. i’m too high maintenance, i’m a teacher’s pet, i’m spoiled, i go after horrible guys—“
“because you do!” she yells back.
“and why do you care, ellie?!” you yell, becoming out of breath, partly due to the hard pounding of your heartbeat in your chest, “why do you care so much?
she goes silent.
“god, you infuriate me, ellie williams.” you breathe out. you felt almost as if fire was igniting inside of you and your slow breaths were releasing the smoke. you close your eyes, attempting to calm down before opening them again and putting on the last finishing touches on your makeup. as you stand up grabbing your purse, and you hear ellie let out a heavy sigh.
“you’re seriously still gonna go out with that fucking frat bro prick jacob anderson? after everything i said?” she snarks, “i thought girls like you were supposed to be smart.”
“yea, as a matter of fact. i am still going,” you give her a mocking smile.
“why? so, he can fuck you missionary in the dark while he finishes in 3 seconds?” she lets out a harsh laugh, “how fucking romantic.”
“again, why do you even care? you don’t even like me,” you counter, her head spins in your direction.
“who told you that?” ellie appeared angry, her eyes sharp and a serious tone in her voice.
“no one that matters.”
there’s a pregnant pause in the air as if she’s hesitating to say something.
“well, whoever the fuck they are, they’re wrong.” she confessed, her voice wavering.
“what do you mean?”
she sighs in frustration, running a hand through her hair before standing up in front of you.
“i’m infatuated with you.”
“huh?” you manage to croak out in shock. did you hear her correctly?
“yea. you heard me. i’m infatuated with you. you fucking consume every corner of my mind. every capacity of my being.” she comes closer to you, backing you up against the door, “you drive me absolutely insane.”
“then why do you treat me like this?” you ask, looking up at her with big, curious eyes. ellie’s eyes soften at you.
“because— i hate seeing you go on dates with those dicks who don’t deserve you. i hate seeing the way you dress in those short-ass fucking dresses and skirts for them. i hate knowing that they don’t even make you feel good. i hate that you waste your time on those assholes instead of—,” she breathes, “—instead of me.”
you look at her, searching for any sign of doubt in her face. nothing. no. she couldn’t do this. she couldn’t spring this on you. she couldn’t act one way to you for months and then tell you something different the next.
“so what? you think you deserve me? you deserve my attention?” you snap ungraciously.
“as a matter of fact, yes. yes i do.” she whispers, getting closer to you. “you and i both know it,” her breath fans your face, “i’d make you feel better than any of those assholes could.”
you shift uncomfortably in your spot, pulling your eyes away from hers.
“i can give you everything you deserve. i can give you everything you want.” she swears. “i can make your pussy feel so, so good, baby,” you can feel your wetness pool in your panties.
“can make you whimper and moan,” ellie suddenly grabs you by the bare flesh underneath your ass, her warm hands hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around her waist.
“jus’ give me a chance to show you.” she whispers lowly. you smash your lips onto hers, your hands holding onto the nape of her neck. you knew this was probably a bad idea, but god, the way her tongue felt in your mouth felt ungodly. her tongue rubbed against yours, exploring your mouth like it was something she was destined to do.
walking towards your bed, your frame still wrapped up around her, she bent down to lay you on your bed. ellie pulled away from your lips and looked down at you, scattering gentle kisses below your jawline towards your neck, your legs still firmly wrapped around her figure.
with your eyes closed, savoring the feeling of her lips all over your neck, you attempted to put an end to this. “el, we can’t,” you nearly moan out.
“why? ‘cause of jacob?” ellie lets out an amused laugh, before pressing her lips against the weak spot of your neck, sucking on it.
another moan vibrates through you, “god, ellie,” you let out meekly.
“tell me to stop,” she commands, her lips moving to suck on the spot above your collarbone, the tip of her tongue gliding against your skin. don’t stop.
“tell me that i’m wrong,” ellie murmured, “that i don’t deserve you.” you deserve me.
her fingers lift up the hem of your dress, exposing your stomach. her lips pepper sloppy kisses against the supple skin of your stomach, “tell me you don’t want me,” i want you, “that you don’t feel the same for me.” i do feel the same for you.
“tell me, baby,” ellie kisses in the space between your breasts, “tell me you’re not mine.”
your heart was beating in and out of your chest. this was it. this was your chance. getting an opportunity to be with ellie williams was a once-in-a-lifetime offer, and you weren’t passing up your dream girl.
you grab her face, lifting her lips up to yours. “i’m yours, ellie,” you cooed, “i’m all yours.”
leaning her forehead against yours, her lips curled into a smile, before pressing onto yours one more time. her warm hands rubbed against the skin on your waist, exploring every inch of warm, flesh. you whined against her mouth, wanting more. you needed more. you needed her.
ellie’s hands trailed upwards, lifting the dress off you and discarding it somewhere in your room. she took this opportunity to pull away from you for a second, her eyes grazing your body. ellie found it hard to believe she was in this situation, with you underneath her, nearly naked and looking angelic. she took a mental picture of this moment, never wanting to forget how you looked at her— with love.
her fingers went behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall and tossing it to the side.
“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” she whispered, “you’re beyond anything i could’ve dreamt of.”
your stomach erupted in butterflies, flushed at this newfound sweet side to ellie. her mouth placed sloppy kisses on your chest, sucking on the soft skin and leaving maroon-colored marks as a reminder of where she had been and where she belongs.
she took your breast in her mouth, letting her tongue wrap around your hardened nipple. “oh my god, ellie,” you hissed. she smirked up at you, letting one of her hands massage and pinch on the other nipple.
“please, ellie,” you begged, “touch me, please.”
she let out a sickening chuckle, the heat of her mouth fanning your skin, sending shivers up your spine.
“where, sweet girl?” she said bringing her lips down to suck on your nipple again, “use your words.”
you bucked your hips up, “please, el, touch my pussy. pretty please.” you breathe out.
“ah, ah, ah, can’t hear you, baby.” she mocked, pulling her lips away from your now sensitive nipples.
“ellie, please,” you whined out, “i want you to touch my pussy. please.”
she smirks, satisfied with where she has you. “that’s my good girl. how obedient, hm?”
she stands up, still in between your legs, and pulls your body to the edge of the mattress. her hands go to the waistband of your panties, using her fingers to ever-so-slowly peel them off of you. she was intentionally moving agonizingly slow. her hands caressed your inner thighs and calves, finally chucking your panties somewhere on the floor.
“fuck, i’ve been waiting so long to do this,” ellie said, crouching down on the floor in front of you. you could feel her hot breath against your pussy, and you couldn’t bear it any longer.
“please, i need you, el,” you beg, hoping for some relief. her hands lifted your thighs and placed them on her shoulders, her lips pressing soft kisses in between your thighs. she presses a kiss against your inner thigh, on your pussy lips, and then finally on your clit.
ellie works slow and patiently, using her fingers to steadily spread your pussy lips apart and gather your wetness with her tongue. she uses one finger and inserts it inside you, eliciting a gasp from your lips.
you throw your head back, “oh my god, ellie, yes,” you moan out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
“look at you, getting what you want, you spoiled girl,” she mutters against your pussy, before putting her lips on your clit again, sucking on your sensitive core. her finger pumping in and out of you easily, the slick sound of your wetness reverberating throughout the room.
“you taste so fucking good, baby,” ellie hums against you, slurping up every drop of your juices. she adds a second finger, stretching you out a bit, but still sliding in and out of you with ease.
her tongue flicking against your clit combined with her fingers fucking you was enough to almost send you over the edge, you cover your mouth with your hand, suppressing a loud moan that was tempted to come out.
“no, let me hear you, sweet girl,” ellie orders, “let everyone in this whole goddamn hall hear how good i’m fingerfucking you right now.”
you let your hand drop to your side, relishing in the ecstasy, and letting out a moan you were holding back.
“that’s my girl.”
you hear your phone ring, knowing it’s jacob, probably wondering why you haven’t shown up by now. but here you were, with ellie, knuckles deep inside your pussy.
she grabs your phone from the nightstand with her free hand, while the other is picking up the pace with her fingers, eliciting another moan from your parted lips, “hey fucker, leave a message. she’s busy right now.”
you should’ve scolded her about how she answered your phone, but right now, any consequences you thought about vanished as she continued licking circles against your swollen clit while simultaneously curling her fingers up inside your leaking hole.
“el—“ you barely choked out, “m’gonna— gonna—“
she kept the same pace, not for a second slowing down, “you gonna cum, baby? huh? you gonna cum for me?”
you nodded weakly, clenching your pussy around her fingers and tightening your thighs around her head.
“go ‘head, angel,” her pace never misses a beat, “show me who you belong to.”
your back arches off the mattress and you cry out, riding out your orgasm and letting your juices flow out of you.
after cleaning your thighs with a wet wipe and towel, ellie comes up to hover above your face, planting a tender kiss on your lips.
“is it too late to ask you to be my girlfriend?” she asks, letting out a sincere laugh.
“i thought we already established this, idiot.”
read part 2 here
#ellie williams#ellie tlou#ellie williams tlou#the last of us#the last of us ellie#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x you#ellie x reader#tlou#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams smut#ellie williams angst
4K notes
·
View notes
Note
Can I get head canons for Jason, Brahms, Bubba RZ and Og Michael and Freddy with an s/o who has a picture of them (the slasher) in a heart shaped locket they wear all the time? I got one for christmas and I’m trying to figure out how to add a picture that will fit to it. Thank you as always
Thank u for ur patience🫠💞
Slashers with a Reader that has a photo of them in a heart shaped locket
Includes: Bubba Sawyer, Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger and Brahms Heelshire
Bubba Sawyer💖
Bubba nearly cried when you first showed him the locket around your neck. He held the heart shaped pendant in his shaky hands, running his thumb over the tiny picture of himself in it
Bubba completely melted when you pulled him into a kiss, his hands slipping off the necklace and around your waist
He made an effort to dance around with you more often after you got the locket. He was also somehow even more snuggly, always stealing kisses and touches
Bubba couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you. And wow! You had his picture in a heart shaped locket? Wha?? He loved to show you off to his brothers
Michael Myers💖
You opened your heart shaped locket in front of Michael, revealing a photo of him inside. It was of him as a child, unmasked with a mop of blonde hair over his eyes
Michael slowly tilted his head. He didn’t understand why you had this. Honestly, he probably would be very indifferent about it at first. If anything, he probably thought you were dumb for it. Didn’t you know what he was? He didn’t know why you always glorified him
If Michael was having one of his very rare good days, he may of gotten a bit soft with you (don’t count on it). He came home to you at night, laying next to you on your bed. You sleepily smiled at him in the dark, while he took in your stunning features
As you drifted off to sleep, Michael’s hand wandered to the locket around your neck. He popped it open, gazing upon the photo of him
It was the little things like this that reminded him why he spared you
Jason Voorhees💖
You skipped over to Jason one day and popped open the heart shaped locket around your neck, revealing a photograph of him inside. You had taken the photo a little while back. It was just him with his mask on by the lake, but it was very special to you
Jason silently stared down at it for a long while. After a few moments, he turned and walked off into the woods without even looking at you. It wasn’t exactly the reaction you had hoped for, but at least he didn’t smash it or something
You didn’t bring up the locket again. Jason didn’t give it much thought, except when he caught himself staring at it every once in a while
If Jason got mad or upset, he broke things. All he saw was red, until your soothing voice cooed for him to calm down
He stormed over to you, his dirty boots trudging over the floorboards of your cabin. You flinched back in fear as Jason snatched up your locket, nearly tearing it from your neck. As his vision came back to him, he looked down at the heart shaped pendant in his hand
As Jason’s rage slowly washed away, he dropped the locket and stormed back out of your cabin. He was so unpredictable. You didn’t know what made Jason so upset, but you knew he would come back for comfort soon enough
Jason was pretty much always in a bad mood. But the thought of your dumb locket you wore with his photo in it, weirdly soothed him
Freddy Krueger💖
When you showed him his photo that you had in the heart shaped locket around your neck, Freddy let out an evil laugh that echoed throughout the boiler room
“Are you sweet on me, prince(ss)?” He smirked
You playfully rolled your eyes with a giggle. “Of course, silly!” You joked
Freddy licked his burned lips before slamming a kiss onto your own. He was already very possessive of you, so this necklace just tipped him over the edge
Safe to say, when you woke up from that ‘nightmare’, all you were wearing was the locket. Your pyjamas were strewn all over the floor, tattered and torn from a certain bladed glove
Brahms Heeshire💖
Brahms was so happy to see his photo in your heart shaped locket. Expect him to demand a lot more kisses than usual. He was also a lot more clingy, following you close behind throughout the entire day like a lost puppy. He would throw a massive tantrum if you were to leave to run errands or something. He snaked his lanky arms around you in an effort to make you stay
Seeing that locket dangling over your chest made Brahms go wild. He grabbed you by the hair, and dragged you down to his lair within the walls
Brahms threw you onto his bed with a deep grunt, straddling your hips and tearing off your clothes, leaving you in nothing but the necklace
#dead by daylight#dead by daylight x reader#bubba sawyer x reader#leatherface x reader#leatherface#bubba sawyer#michael myers x reader#michael myers#jason voorhees x reader#jason voorhees#freddy krueger x reader#freddy krueger#brahms heelshire x reader#brahms heelshire#brahms x reader#texas chainsaw massacre#halloween#friday the 13th#nightmare on elm street#slasher x reader#slashers#slashers x reader#rab.reads
4K notes
·
View notes
Note
hey i know ur requests are closed.. but when they’re back open will u do a blurb of eddie having a bad day and he just wants to go home and get high and reader blows him while he smokes and it’s all sloppy :)
ps ur writing is insane
im sorry that this took MONTHS to be done 😭 darling i hope you forgive me for this </3
18+ mdni. cw: slight angst, oral (m receiving), deep throating, ball play, praising, gagging, dacryphilia, cum eating. fem!reader
when eddie comes home, he doesn't have that usual greeting smile of his that signified his happiness. no, he comes home with a frown, a tight lipped smile when his eyes settle on your figure that sits idly on the couch waiting for him.
his hair's all tugged and a ruckus, somehow his eyes had gotten a bit dark with the disruption that looms over his head like a dark hazy cloud. his shoulder's are slumped and his movements are dragged and flaccid.
so in hopes to lift his spirits, you spring up from his worn out couch and skid over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder to lean up and kiss his cheek. he lets you.
"hi," you murmur after you pull back. eddie nods his head, kisses your forehead in a way that's baulky; each of his movements are. like he's trying to control something. "how's your day?"
"'s alright," eddie moves away from you, your hand dropping to your side limply as he opens the fridge and takes out a pitcher of cold water, as well as a cup of glass. he pours himself one.
"just alright?" your hand rests on the counter instead, dipping your head with a brow raised, watching him take heavy gulps of the cold drink.
eddie wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. when he returns the pitcher, it's with heavy movement that creates loud dins. then he nods again. "yep,"
you're unconvinced, obviously. you see it in his eyes, the way he's agitated. the way he holds it all up to spare a bad storm. it's something eddie always did — he bottles it up until it dissolves and waits until he's all happy and blooming again.
it's a bad habit of his. not wanting to be a heavy burden to the mellow ambience. he does it even when you're together; keeping his frustrations to himself. it's not that he doesn't trust you. it's just that he doesn't know how to.
in hopes to open his heart, you speak again. "i know it's not just alright, teddy,"
he looks shamefully down his hands, the whole room getting darker from the deep rumbles of the caliginous silver sky. but the way his nose flares evinces his tiny patience.
"i'm alright, (y/n)," he says rather sharply, a bit loud than his usual voice, and his scleras are pink with lethargy. it takes you aback, having been new to his snapping answers. you'd gotten too comfortable in his soft answers and easy defeats for comfort.
your back straightens and he takes note of your foot that steps back from his intensity. futile was eddie's search for fear in your eyes, replaced merely with shock and concern. but the way your face falls and your mouth parts and your eyes raise a little makes him drown immediately in guilt.
"i'm sorry baby—"
you're quick to defend. "no, eddie, it's okay—"
"it's not! it's not," he takes quick strides to you, placing his arms on your shoulders. eddie feels his heart relaxes just a sliver when you don't flinch or move away. "it's not. you're just– you're just looking out for me, sweetheart. and i snapped. and that wasn't very nice of me. i'm sorry."
you pout a little. a cute one that makes him decide between kissing it away, or relishing the sight of it. eddie rubs the tension off your shoulders.
"you're right," you say. "that kind of wasn't nice of you. but i understand. you were just having a bad day."
eddie shakes his head nonetheless, his eyebrows joining in the heavy weight of guilt. you smile timidly at him, placing your hands on top of his that continue to rub on your slouched shoulders.
"can i have a hug?" eddie murmurs. it's what makes you smile just a little brighter and nod. he dives right in.
he puts his hand on the back of your head and pushes your cheek against his chest, while the other wraps tightly around your shoulders. your own arms wrap around his torso, the pudge of his stomach pressing against yours.
eddie inhales your aroma like a flower in a field. littering kisses over the top of your head as you dig your nose into his shirt, feeling him keep you close to his heart. this feels like eddie—whether it be an apology hug, a bored hug, a loving hug, or just a hug.
"had a bad day, didn't you?" even with the muffled speech, eddie nods on top of your head and sways you gently. "everybody's been a little mean, haven't they?"
"they have," his voice shrinks. "they so have, princess."
lips pressing against the soft cotton of his shirt, you drag heat up to his neck in feather kisses, up to his jaw that relaxes to his cheeks that stretches from a smile, up to his lips that await for reconciliation.
eddie kisses you like you're dancing on top of clouds; with such delicacy, with such unfathomable fervor and eagerness like it's your first kiss. you hum against his mouth when his hands maneuver to massage your waist.
"anything i can do to help?" you whisper. eddie breaks away with a small guttural noise, his lips morphing to a confused smile with a wrinkled nose. "come on. i'd do anything to help, teds!"
you see him contemplate for a moment, his fingers brushing loosely at the knots of your hair. you place your chin on his chest before he finally looks down at you.
"i have one in mind,"
-
you expected something like watching a movie as eddie lays on his stomach with you sitting on his back massaging all the coldness and tightness from his muscles away.
but kneeling between his spread legs with a joint in his mouth and a cock in yours seemed better
you lick the pearlescent cream that bubbles on his slit, your spit-coated hand wrapped tightly around his thick length. eddie already has his head thrown back with his joint sizzling, taking a broken hit of it.
mixed with the inebriated was the absolute bliss of the feeling of your mouth sinking down slowly on his cock, taking all of him into you, your tongue pressing against the underside of his shaft that the veins tickle the pad of your thick muscle.
"you look so pretty, sweetheart," he pushes your hair to the side, gathering it around his lax hand as he takes another puff. "look like 'n angel with my dick in your mouth,"
the hand on his thigh leave a trail of goosebumps on its wake, swimming down until you cup one of his heavy, cum-filled balls. you close your cheeks around him, relax your throat before constricting it around his throbbing head. eddie moans, bucking up to urge himself go deeper.
you pull out with a gasp, tears stinging the corners of your pretty eyes as a string of spit connects your lips to the swell helmet of his sex. eddie chuckles drunkenly; holding the joint in the other, his hand wipes at the tear from your eye and brings it to his mouth.
eager, you suck him again, much faster and deeper this time, bobbing your head with eyes that matched his dazedness, scleras both red—the other with weed, the other with something a bit more debaucherous.
eddie mewls, a sob of pleasure shaking through his core as you fondle with his fuzzy sack. you bring your mouth up to suck only on his tip, pumping his length with the other hand.
"doing soooo good, sweetheart, shit," he moans out, hips bucking, raising, stuttering with shaking thighs. he's more sensitive when he's high. "being a good girl for me, eh? c'mon, honey, go deeper."
he puts the joint back in his mouth, broken sequences of the smoke releasing from his ragged breathing.
there's a slick ring that dampens the bush of curls above his cock that you dive your nose into when you take the whole length of him, shaking your head while gagging. obscene sounds leave your mouth, pulling back to release him with a pop.
only to move down with both your hands twisting and jerking his thick cock as you envelope your swollen, kiss bitten lips around his sack, taking one into your mouth to pull and suckle. eddie practically sobs.
"fuck–! sweet girl, i'm gonna cum," he says it in a throaty, choked groan. eddie's moans are almost like a yell, his naked chest harbored with hair and tattoos heave like he's ran a marathon, his alabaster skin tinged pink as orgasm teases his soul. "f-fuck–hnggh– shit, babe, let me cum in that mouth. let me cum."
with your hands moving mercilessly faster and your suckles loud enough to ricochet around the thin walls of his room, eddie cums with a lascivious mewl, his hips raising, your own mouth racing until your lips surround his head and spurts of his spunk glide easily down your scratchy throat. he moans and whines like a relieved baby, squirting a bit more into your mouth before you release his flaccid cock out.
you swallow and gather what's on the corner of your lip with your tongue. eddie's let go of his joint and places it in your mouth, his hand immediately reaching down to pump his sensitive and softening cock as you inhale the weed.
"amazing. fucking– show-stopping and better than weed," he chuckles. you part his lips with a gentle tap on the bottom and release the smelly air in his mouth. eddie groans and sucks it all in as you giggle and grind your damp panties on his cock.
"think a little pussy will make you feel just a little bit better?" you whisper in his ear, biting at its fleshy lobe.
eddie nods vigorously. "baby, i kid you not, i'd be all skipping with sunshine and rainbows for the rest of my life,"
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson#stranger things smut
4K notes
·
View notes
Note
Can u pls pls pls do a short story about Simon helping out his girlfriend who is sick but won’t admit they’re sick?!? Like they are literally sweating balls and about to pass out and ghost has to physically brag them into bed. Go crazy pls!!!!!!!!!!
simon "ghost" riley x sick!fem!reader
warnings: none other than a bit of biting by the end.
"I'm fine, Simon." you repeated once again, dodging him in the door frame, but he didn't listen. Following you into the kitchen with a thermometer in his hand, Simon walked around the kitchen aisle and looked at you from the other side.
All day, you've been acting strange. You avoided coming close to Simon in hopes of him not noticing, but he obviously realized how warm your body was and how hazed your eyes were.
You placed your palms on the top of the counter, trying to look intimidating, but he quickly followed suit with a worried look in his eyes. Of course, he's still bigger and stronger than you, and with that look in his eyes — yeah, I think you've just lost.
"I'm not a little kid, Si. Can take care of myself." you sighed, but the soldier standing before you shook his head.
"You sure act like one." he snapped, leaning over the counter to get his face closer to yours. The piercing gaze he gave you almost broke your guard when his hand reached up to check your temperature. "Come on, if you're so sure you are alright, just let me."
You tried to just walk away, but as soon as you started walking, he appeared beside you and wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him with a chuckle. You yelled his name in surprise, struggling your way out, but it was too late.
"Wasn't that bad, huh?" he asked as the thermometer lit up. He leaned against the counter, almost sitting on it while chewing his inner cheek in waiting. You were about to walk out of the kitchen with your arms crossed as the device called out the number.
You froze, hearing how high your temperature actually was. Sure, you suspected to be sick, but didn't want to admit it. You looked at Simon in hopes of seeing that smirk again, but this time he just looked worried and maybe a tiny bit upset.
"Love..."
"That's nothing, Si. I told you I'm fine!" you interrupted him with a roll of your eye and stepped away as he tried to walk closer. You could feel the sweat on your back, making your hoodie cling to your body, but you preferred to ignore it. The fog appearing before your eyes wasn't expected at all, making you weak in the knees.
"That's it, girl. We're getting you back to bed." he said as soon as he caught your almost falling form. You tried to push his strong arms away, but to no avail. He dragged you across the hallway, kissing the top of your head to calm you down.
You squirmed around in his arms, biting into his bicep with just the slightest force, threatening to deepen your teeth into his muscled skin. He just laughed at your tries, lightly kicking the door to your shared bedroom open.
Soon enough, you were forcibly tucked into bed. He made sure to help you wear something more comfortable and covered your body with the warm duvet, smiling at the view of only your head visible above the covers.
Your eyelids fluttered as he left the room, making you think you could get out if you wanted, but as soon as you moved, Simon got back with a fresh and steaming cup of tea. "Stay there." he warned playfully, placing the cup on the side table, sitting on the edge of the bed, right beside your thighs.
You couldn't help the sleepy smile that fell on your lips when he helped you sit up to drink. As much as you hated to admit it, being sick around him wasn't that bad after all.
masterlist | request info
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost#ghost cod#cod mw2#cod mwii#ghost mw2#ghost simon riley#cod ghost#riri writes
453 notes
·
View notes
Text
sweet pea ✴︎ cl16
genre: friends to lovers, dad charles/pregnancy au, fluff!, humor, super slight angst
word count: 4.6k
“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?” “Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm.”
Or: you finally reap what you sow after fooling around with your best friend. The reaping in question is a kid.
notes... some nsfw allusions, nothing too bad. if pregnancy isnt ur thing this is all about it so.
auds here... i hated this for a long time so i thought id never post it hahahah but i will now bec i just redid some scenes and its okay in my eyes... also this is a bit overdue. i hope u like it everyone! :) title from this
It’s an hour before the race and you’re absent from your usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, you’re leaned against the wall of the tiny motorhome bathroom, silently digging your toes into your sandals. Charles knocks twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. He beams when he sees you, goes, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
He offers a hand, but you let your eyes shut, refusing to take it. You fail to even make eye contact, holding up the plastic stick that’d been in your clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s an omen, a portent, a cursed thing, casting your best friend into silence.
It’s cold and sterile in the bathroom—a stark contrast to where other families might find out they’re pregnant for the first time. You imagine a lemon yellow room bathed in noon sunlight and a happy balding doctor going “It’s positive, mama!” You picture a white family SUV in the parking lot, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness.
Instead, you get: “Do you have COVI—oh.”
“Yeah.” You say, pursing your lips. You swallow. “Oh.”
“I thought the puking was food poisoning,” he says. “Jesus, you know how many takeout places I’ve avoided lately?”
“Well, it’s not Panda Express. It’s your alien sperm,” you counter, lifting yourself from the wall and bumping past Charles on your way out and into his room. He follows, brows knitted together, muttering something French under his breath.
“By that logic, that’d mean you’re an alien now, too. See, your kinks have finally met their match.”
You turn, effectively stopping him in his tracks. He almost collides with you, his eyes trained determinedly on the positive pregnancy test in his hand. You cross your arms and narrow your eyes, annoyed. “Seriously. Jokes? Right now?”
“I mean—”
“Whatever,” you say, waving him off. “Just go and drive. We can talk about this later.”
“I’ll dedicate the race to the little alien.” He giggles, mimicking a champagne spray, waving the invisible bottle back and forth toward your still-not-showing stomach. His accent switches to a measly English one when he goes, “Oh my Gawd! And there goes the alien Leclerc! Wins in first! From pole!”
“Get out. Or so help me God this baby is growing up without you.”
He ends up winning. (“Should I dedicate every race to the ali—” “Stop calling it that.”)
—
This is nothing but a final culmination of your very layered relationship with Charles. For years, you two had comfortably gone by the “best friends” label, with a hidden “with benefits” clause. You’d grown up together, separated only when you went to university in New York. Your re-arrival in Monaco, coupled with the both of you having grown older and more independent, marked the start of the sex.
It works like clockwork. To relieve stress, to celebrate, to cure boredom. At some point, both of you just inwardly admitted there was a certain weakness to it. A glass of wine, a stick of tobacco, and you’d give in to the temptation easily. Then, in the morning—sometimes in Monaco, other times in foreign countries where your body feels like it’s still three a.m.—you come to a mutual agreement to never do it again.
But you always do, laughing in between kisses, mumbling whispered nothings between the sheets (or in the bathtub, or against the wall, or—that one time—on the balcony.) And now there’s proof of it. Well, barely any yet, you realize, staring at yourself in the mirror of Charles’ hotel room. You turn and flop yourself onto the bed, but face-up. You inch yourself toward the headboard and lean against it in a half-seated position.
“I can’t believe I’m…” You sigh. Finally, the jokes fizzle. This is the real talk.
Charles burrows himself next to you, shirtless and in a stupid pair of boxers with red hearts all over them. You’d gotten them as a Valentine’s Day gag two years ago, but now you’re thinking of the future, of telling this kid their dad has a pair of heart-decorated boxers. Momentarily, and temptingly so, you weigh the options of telling Charles you were joking and running away before sunup.
“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks. He’d learned the phrase from some obscure American rom-com, if you recall correctly. He uses it constantly, and for many years, improperly.
“I’ll give you them for free,” you say, breathless with worry. “We’re having a kid.”
A hand places itself on your knee. You almost jerk away, but you relax. “What do you want to do?”
“With?” You ask, emptily. There’s so much to do. “The baby?”
“Well, I mean, yeah, but also us.”
“We’re not dating,” you say, a bit sharper than intended.
“We could.” He pauses. “For its sake.” He pokes your abdomen.
“I don’t—” You inhale, trying to reorganize all your thoughts. “I don’t want people thinking we’re suddenly dating and engaged and happy just because I’m about to pop a Charles Jr. out. I mean, what are you going to do with your racing? With a kid on the way, how’s travel going to work? My job? My masters?”
“I think… I think you and I are lucky enough,” he says slowly, “to be able to weigh all these options without losing too much time or resources. I will support you no matter what, and you know that. And really, who cares if people think we ‘date’ because of the baby? You and I have been ‘dating’ since we were eleven.”
You don’t realize you’re crying until your laugh is mixed with a sob. You don’t know if you’re sad, pissed, overwhelmed, loved—or all four. “Okay? So… let’s both think about it. More you than me. And tomorrow, we can weigh this all over again. Let’s sleep on it. Remember? La nuit—”
“—porte conseil,” you finish tearily. “Okay.”
—
It’s two weeks later. Charles gets stuck in the paddock doing something or other for Sunday, so you’re left to your own devices in the parking lot. Five minutes of waiting turns to fifteen, then a half hour. That’s the catalyst for your mid-evening freakout—suddenly you’re thinking about all the times you and this weird thing inside you might be alone, left for work, by an athlete dad.
“Are you okay?” A voice asks when you’re heaving out another dry, panic-induced sigh. You turn, finding it familiar, and see Seb behind you. He may have been Charles’ teammate, but he’s a friend to you, too, and you find he’s always the most grounded in heated discussions.
“Seb,” you croak, caught off guard. “I’m fine.” Your voice breaks on the ine, and suddenly fat tears roll quietly down your face.
You tell him eventually, when he asks you again if you’re okay, making him the second person to know; still, the telling doesn’t get easier. You didn’t even tell Charles, you think. You merely shoved a Clearblue stick in his face and waited for the goofy reaction that would undoubtedly meet your ears.
“A baby,” he says softly. Happily. “Congratulations. This is a big step… but you don’t sound excited.”
“I mean,” you say in between waves of tears, “I am? I am. But—it happened so fast—we’re not even officially together—and Charles is—”
“Do I need to talk some sense into Charles?” Seb asks suddenly, concerned.
“No. He’s—he’s being great. Really supportive.” You wipe the tears and fresh ones come. “He’s happy. You know him. I think I’m just overwhelmed. I mean I’m the one who’s toting this baby around.”
“Take it one step at a time,” he muses. “See a doctor, work out non-race schedules with Mattia, get everything in order. If I know you, this baby will be in the best hands. And that’s not even counting Charles.” He pulls you in for a hug that lasts ages, one that says thank you and I love you better than words. You inhale, find the tears have stopped. You realize what comes after this—it’s telling everyone else. Lily, your best friend. Carlos. Charles’ family. Your family. The fans, oh God you’d forgotten about the fans. The social media announcements.
Charles strolls into the parking lot—runs, more like, with apologies spouting out of him, just two minutes after Seb leaves. He presses a delicate, apologetic kiss to your forehead, a hand on your stomach. “Hey,” he says. Then, to your abdomen, covered by a sweatshirt, “Hey there, alien.” You wonder what this will be like in two months. In seven. In nine.
—
You tell your families over lunch on a lucky off day. There is little surprise—just tears from both your moms and Arthur teasingly asking you to recount the details of conception. You’re in a sundress serving crostini when Pascale pulls you aside to the back of the yard.
She presses a kiss to your cheek, one of conviction and faith. “I always knew,” she says. “You’re going to be a wonderful mom.”
—
The drivers all find out one way or another, news trickling through the grapevine like honey. You share it to Lily first, and of course she tells Alex. You tell Lewis, too, over spring rolls that he claims will power up the baby when it’s born. Charles tells Pierre, who tells Yuki, and Carlos, who tells Lando. You tell Mick, who hugs you and says, “Oh my god! I already knew, Seb told me. I kept wanting to say congratulations.”
It’s a matter of two weeks before everybody knows. You know because you’ve barely taken a step into the dimly lit Ferrari motorhome when you halt and bolt back outside, harboring yourself a few metres away at a safe distance. Charles, who had been walking beside you, arm looped around your waist, turns, puzzled.
“What’s going on?” He asks.
“No. Nuh-uh. It smells in there.”
He sniffs the darkness, fumbles for the light switch. “No it doesn’t.”
“It smells like”—you grit your teeth, trying to identify the stench—“cheese. And champagne.”
“Why would it smell like che—”
He bangs the light open and illuminates a surprise party. The entire grid starts cheering, having unheard the entire conversation. There’s a huge banner that says CONGRATULATIONS PARENTS, and on a makeshift table in the centre, an assortment of cake slices, cheese, and flutes of champagne. Charles laughs with delight at the surprise, and then turns to find you squatting on the ground, trying to quell your stomach.
“Give me five,” you say, waving him off.
He returns after ten to find you still trying to calm the waves of nausea. You hear his footsteps and heave yourself up, standing to face him. “I asked Esteban and Max to evacuate the place of cheese and champagne. It’s just coffee and cake now. I even got three fans going.”
“Desolée,” you say, miserable. He wraps two big arms around you, nestling his chin atop your head. “I feel like a high-maintenance monster.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re not the monster. The alien is.”
“I told you to stop calling it that,” you say, shutting your eyes and leaning into his touch. “Before it catches on.”
“Okay. E.T.? Spock? Open to suggestions.” Hand in yours, he walks you gently to the party, arising loud cheers again. In between sips of hot water, he says, “How about Chewy?”
—
The sense of smell proves to be useful in endeavours elsewhere.
“You never clean your car,” you say, lying horizontal on the leather seat and picking bits of dirt off. “I can smell month old Cheetos.”
Charles watches you obsessively nitpick at the detailing. “Last time you looked like this, I gave you a baby.”
“One more word,” you warn sharply.
“But seriously, be careful. The alien might get stressed.”
You brace yourself for the stupid words that will indubitably follow.
“Don’t worry. If it falls out I’ll plop it in a race car and it’ll be the next Hamilton. Imagine how light it’ll be.”
There it is.
—
Your first trip to the doctor’s is interesting. Charles insists on wearing a wig because he’s so easily recognized in Monaco, so now you look like you’re conceiving a baby with Weird Al Yankovic.
The doctor wheels in a cart with a monitor and all the necessary equipment, and even if it suddenly feels all too real, Charles squeezes your hand and you’re calm again. “I’m back,” she says, sliding into a wheely chair beside you and gelling your stomach.
“Hi, Back,” Charles responds in a crude, twangy Texan accent. The dad humor starts early, you suppose.
You grit your teeth to try and excuse his embarrassing behavior, but suddenly the monitor clicks open and there it is. It looks like the ones in movies, print-outs from friends, but at the same time it doesn’t. It looks different. Special. Yours. You zero in on it, breathless. That’s yours. The doctor says a couple minor things—nothing worrisome—and when you turn to relay it to Charles in case he’d zoned out, you find his face splotchy.
“Are you crying?”
“That’s ours,” he says, dipping down to press a kiss to your forehead.
“It’s mine and Charles’, not mine and Bob Ross’,” you say, but you pull him closer anyway.
You order two printouts. The week next, you discover that Charles snuck back in to order an extra eight and has mailed them out to friends and drivers. You find out because Kylian Mbappe messages you “Due in April? Make me godfather!” on Instagram.
—
Gradually, you fall into a pattern of being queasy constantly. You get nitpicky with meals, and not irrationally—Charles had fed you a spicy hotdog and you’d gone half a bite before hurling it, and your breakfast, into the nearest toilet. You find solace in your cravings—all of which happen to be the same everyday.
Chinese takeout from just about any restaurant ends up being your best friend. You somehow can’t stomach anything but that specific cuisine, much to your own surprise. You find new ways to combine them with each other. Rice paper wrappers with chow mein. Hotpot with fried rice. If you’re not eating Chinese, you reduce your appetite to crackers or hot tea to avoid becoming too nauseated.
It’s poetic almost, the way he sets out the food carefully, in the order you like them. He always presses a kiss to your forehead after.
Around this time, you develop a crazy sex drive, waking Charles up at numerous points of the night, begging into his neck for something, anything. You last an hour before you’re asking again. This proves especially difficult before races, where Charles gives in a bit too easily and Carlos has to knock on the door, going “You have to finish somewhere else too, Charles!”
—
You insist Charles hold off on telling the fans, for a few months. It goes okay until your outfits on the paddock evolve into the variety of “Charles’ hoodies” to hide the increasingly evident bloat of pregnancy, and nosy fans start speculating all over Twitter. That’s when he sits you down and gently tells you he thinks it’s time you both announce it.
You’re sitting beside him in his hotel room, after two calls with his bosses, trying to formulate the proper announcement. You download PicsArt to make it pretty and clean and formatted—because the poor guy was about to post a Notes app screenshot—and then it’s on the Internet.
“She’s truly MOTHER,” one fan comments. Despite yourself, you press the heart icon beside it. It’s your bit of comfort when you catch sight of the nastier comments under the post.
—
You’re ironically gifted an ancient 80s aerobic exercise DVD for mums by Lily and Alex. You’re sure it’s older than you. Charles, though, in his valiant effort to connect with you and Chewy, does the routine everyday. You wake up to the electronic synthpop and Charles doing booty squats in the living room.
The permed instructor smiles through the scratchy 80s quality and goes, “You are rocking it, momma!”
“You hear that?!” Charles pants. “I am rocking it!”
—
Your first parenting fight ends up being one over the baby’s name. Yeah. Of all things. You don’t know why you’re so worked up about it, considering you don’t even know the gender of the baby yet. You arrive in Monaco to mark the first of five off days and Charles makes some random, offhand joke about naming the baby Daryl, and you suddenly start rambling on and on about how it’s too ugly, even if you’d never thought about names before now.
“It’s not going to be Daryl. It won’t be Daryl,” Charles says, hands on your shoulders. You heave another sob. “Please stop crying. You never cry. I’m a bit freaked out.”
“It’s—just—that,” you hiccup, “I—don’t—want to name a—our—baby—Daryl.”
“Yeah, yep,” he says, soothingly. “I got you. It’s not going to be Daryl. Never. We don’t need to decide anything. You gonna calm down for me?”
“I can’t—stop—crying,” you snivel desperately, burying your face in your hands.
He presses a firm kiss to the corner of your quivering lips, and you tug him in for a real one. You calm down when you pull away, exhaling. You gaze at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“Blame the alien,” you sniff.
He kisses your stomach, which shows signs of pregnancy more and more as the days pass. “Hear that?” He whispers into the skin. “She’s blaming you, Chewy.”
—
Your next trip to the doctor’s is with your appointed private physician, Dr. Davies. Two minutes before the doctor walks in, you make a serious and compelling order for Charles to remove the Weird Al wig, which he does—but stores in your bag, “just in case.” It’s also his opporunity to play teacher’s pet and showcase how involved he is in your pregnancy, which, judging by the amount of weird cultish pregnancy books he’s burned through, is very much so.
“It’s gonna be a boy,” you declare while you’re being gelled up. You’re past the point of denial and bloat, now showing way too obviously. “Mom’s intuition.”
“Well, all the books say it’s a girl,” he says proudly.
“Yeah, they also say drinking lemon juice while trying to conceive gives you a girl. I’m sure scientific accuracy was their greatest objective.”
“Girl.”
“Boy,” you say dismissively.
“Girl.”
“Boy.”
“Girl.” It’s not Charles this time, it’s the physician, with a small smile on his face.
You squeeze Charles’ hand so hard you’re half sure it’s chipped off and fallen to the tiled floor. You’re having a girl. Normally Charles would turn and make some petty statement about he’d been right, but—you’re having a girl. A pretty baby girl. You almost can’t believe it. He totally can’t, pressing kisses to your hair and face.
You let him buy pink paint later that day.
—
You predict it, but it comes—fights and squabbles over nothing at all.
First it’s about work, then housing, then his job, then the danger of his job. It’s petty, and usually you storm off in an emotional cloud of irrationality, brought down after a talk, a play-by-play, compromise, reassurance. It’s hard when you’re carrying around a human being, you want to say. Try being in my shoes.
“Can we talk?” Charles says, in the thick of another fight. You’re on the balcony of your flat, mulling over nothing at all. Your stomach is heavy, you’re always exhausted, you never feel pretty anymore even if Charles is always unfailing at telling you you are.
“Okay,” you murmur, turning. You’ve already developed a habit of placing your hands on your bump always.
He inhales. “I’m scared.”
This is a first. And you realize—in these six months of being pregnant, Charles has been your rock, but has never expressed much fear until now. He’s always been good. Great. Supportive. “Of what?”
“Of—becoming a dad.” He pauses, as if to weigh his words. “I don’t have… a blueprint anymore.”
It dawns on you what he’s talking about. You accept the hug when it comes, holding the nape of his neck. He isn’t crying, but is close to it. His voice is shaky when he continues, whispers against your ear. “What if I don’t know what to do?”
“Baby,” you say, weakly. You push him gently so he’s looking into your eyes. “If the way you’ve taken care of me the past how many months is any indication of how you’ll treat this alien, I know she’s in good hands. You’ve got so much of your dad in you. You’re caring, sweet, you even got a headstart on the dad jokes.” He laughs. “I want this. And the only reason I ever did was because I knew you’d be with me, being an amazing dad, and an even better…”
“Boyfriend,” he says. His eyes hold hesitance—but you quell it with a nod.
“Boyfriend,” you echo. “For now.”
—
The nursery looks like a nursery in February. It was a storage room in Charles’ flat that had really, at some point, become yours, too. Full of boxes and old suits and memories, it’d taken weeks to properly store everything and make way for the furniture. Charles, of course, insists on painting it himself, with the shade of pink he purchased especially for the room.
He hits his head twice and touches the wet paint. There’s a handprint embossed above the bassinet. (Yours is next to it, at his insistence.)
—
You’re a yoga ball by mid-March, having trouble sleeping and dealing with everything being swollen. Charles helps you through it all, turning the heating up and down every time you get even a bit scratchy with the temperature in the flat or motorhome. Your cravings also morph again at this point, into rigatoni that Charles cooked sometime over winter; he requests Ferrari add an induction stove to every race weekend motorhome that you can make it to so he can cook it at your beck and call.
The season begins. Every race is dedicated to Chewy, and every race is won.
—
It’s early morning in late March when Dr. Davies sends you an email with a one-liner that sounds firm enough to set you and Charles in place after two races that involve you being flown around.
Absolutely NO more air and long car travel for Mommy.
“Can we manage?” You mope, rereading the email, genuinely distressed as you watch your boyfriend pack for Australia. It’s a long haul flight, with only one stopover in Zurich, and you’re filled with anxiety. There isn’t a compromise—until you’re popping the baby out, Charles needs to try and score the title.
“You know I can always drop out of races,” he says softly. “That’s what reserve drivers are for.”
“It’s not the same,” you argue. “I’m just worried.”
“You’re not due ’til the 12th,” he assures you. “I’ll be back then, even if it means dropping a race.”
He leans down and kisses you softly, rubbing your shoulders and ankles. “I’ll be back before you know it. Get some sleep first, okay?” He repeats the sentiment to your stomach, adding a kiss and a bye bye Chewy. You drift off to a sorrowful sleep when he departs, a slow ache in your lower back blooming that feels just like many of the other slow aches lately.
You’re up after a half hour with discomfort. You suppose something is just up with your sleep position, and readjust yourself. The discomfort sharpens, then melts. You sigh with relief, a long whistley exhale, and sleep again.
Bliss lasts about three hours, then you’re up again, groaning. You’re not due for a prenatal yoga class until four in the afternoon, and your body isn’t used to being awake. Hell, it’s not used to being this pained. You shift once, twice, trying to sleep with fruitless and exhausting attempts. It takes a while, but in between shifting positions and trying to make yourself yawn, it registers.
“Chewy.” You groan, cupping your gigantic bump. “Seriously?”
—
The first person you call is Charles, naturally. He should be in Zurich, but maybe signal is spotty or something, because none of your texts or calls ping. So you move down the list to the person you know will be in Monaco and not off racing, like everybody you know is—and it just so happens to be Dr. Davies.
You always thought Charles would be nowhere but beside you when you went into labor. But you’re here clutching the straps of your overnight bag being driven to the hospital, exhale, inhale, try Charles, try Carlos. Exhale, inhale. Try Charles. Try Carlos. Your contractions don’t quell; they only grow in intensity and you wince the whole ride through.
“Looks like it’s going to be a fast labor,” Dr. Davies says when he’s done checking you in and making sure everything is in order. You nod, breathless and flushed. You’ve called your mum here and she’s on the way with Charles’ but—Charles is the issue.
“I will weld myself shut if it means I’m giving birth without the dad,” you beg. “Without Charles.”
Charles, who picks up after forty-five minutes of radio silence. He’s in the jet. Give him an hour. “I will pilot this plane myself if I have to. Don’t do anything—don’t make any decisions without me.”
“Too fucking late.” You say, wheezy with labor. “I’m putting N/A on the certificate.”
“You carry Chewy around for nine months and I don’t get to meet her first?” He asks, in a last-ditch effort to cheer you up. You tear up, splotchy and red all over.
“We can’t call her Chewy. We never discussed names. And oh God it can’t be Daryl,” you say, whimpers turning into half-sobs of overwhelm and yearning. You’re scared. You need Charles, who’s been with you for every week, every milestone, every kick, every rigatoni craving. But he’s not here. You have Dr. Davies, and in five minutes you’ll have your mum and Pascale, but they are not Charles. You breathe heavy into the phone.
“I love you,” you say finally. “Please, I love you.”
“I love you more,” he says gently. “I love you. I’ll be there, okay? Just—just wait for me.”
—
Lil 3s ago
does it hurt?
i know it does but i’m trying to make u feel better
love from houston. i will call you ASAP.
You 1s ago
yeah it hurts so bad
apparently they don’t do epidurals
fuck europe
—
In between quiet periods and intense ones, you finally reach your peak. A nurse takes one glance and nods and your bed is disengaged and wheeling around again. Pascale squeezes your left hand, your mum the other. “Wait!” You pant, voice spent, totally tired, flustered.
The nurses exchange a look. “Ma’am—”
“No, you don’t understand. The dad, my—the dad—he’s out—and I don’t.” You pause, the onset of a cry coming on. Pascale takes the lead, firm, asking for a few more moments of patience.
“I can’t do this,” you say hopelessly, throwing your flushed head back. “No. Not without Charles.”
“I’m here,” Charles says, bounding through the door. He’s in official Ferrari gear and his hair is disheveled and he's clearly been crying. Had Chewy not been wedging her way out, you would’ve kissed him right then. You feel nothing but love.
“You’re a sneaky fucker,” you say instead, and the rest is a blur.
—
It’s an hour before the race and Charles is absent from his usual spot greeting friends and guests along the paddock. Instead, he’s leaned against the wall of the motorhome, silently digging his toes into his shoes. You knock twice before trying to open the door and succeeding. You beam when you see him. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
His two girls.
Julia stretches out a chubby hand, but he smiles teasingly, refusing to take it. He holds eye contact, holding up the ring that’d been in his clammy grip for about twenty minutes. It’s a symbol, a sign, a blessed thing, casting his girlfriend into silence.
It’s a bit dark—a stark contrast to where other guys might propose for the first time. He imagines a Caribbean beach bathed in sunset. He pictures a Jeep in the sand, a happy blonde couple jumping into each other’s arms with unadulterated happiness. He figures if you don’t like this, he’ll pay for that.
Instead, he gets: “You’re a doofus—oh.”
“Yeah.” He says, pursing his lips. He swallows, gives you the biggest smile of his life. “Oh.”
It’s perfect.
#f1#leclsrc1000#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc drabble#charles leclerc imagines#charles leclerc x reader#f1 x reader
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Enemies (With Benefits) PT4
Pairing: Cold!Chris x Reader
Wordcount: 4K +
Summary: Chris and reader have always been enemies ever since they’ve known each other. neither knew why they had this burning feeling in their gut. So one day they decide to fuck it out. Until, eventually doing it regularly
Warnings: Smut, language, mentions of insomnia, mentioned nightmares/dreams, slight facial dysmorphia (if u squint), mentions of crying, slightly toxic, party, use of y/n, nickname (cherry), pet names (ma, sweetheart, etc), fight (not graphic), switching, unprotected, creampie (she’s on the pill)
(A/N: hope you guys like this! got the idea from this request. Tysm again <33)
PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 FINAL
Everything with Chris is so unnecessarily complicated.
Why does he act like a little bitch sometimes. Coming to my house, begging me and than being all sassy and annoying.
I let out a harsh scoff when I accidentally smudged my mascara a little bit. Rolling my eyes I pick up a make up remover and a cotton pad to clean up my mistake.
I’ve gone back to ignoring Chris, for my own sake. And he’s stopped attempting to talk to me fully.
I’ve been sticking to Ethan a lot recently. Just staying by his side and all.
We were both invited to this party. But we were both gonna Uber there separately.
I was thinking of getting wasted tonight. I haven’t done that in a while. The last party I’d been to was the party Evelyn forced me to go to.
Evelyn and I haven’t talked much, due to me distancing myself. But she hadn’t tried to reach out either. I’m sure though, that she’ll be at the party.
Having finished my make up now, I look at myself in the mirror. I color corrected my red eyes from crying, well. That as Well as my dark eye bags from sleeping bad.
I was never the type of person to cry a lot. But recently… i was crying because of Chris. But I hate him. Yet he was making me cry, wishing that he was here to comfort me
I hum a tune that’s been stuck in my head.
I just wanna rub my eyes harshly, and just start crying again. I’ve been dreaming of Chris. All in different scenarios.
Sometimes we fucked, cuddled, or even argued. Other times he was with charlotte; or someone else. And other times I was with someone else and saw him in the corner of my eyes.
I’ve been sleeping bad at night, so occasionally I’d have naps after school. Wich didn’t really help much since I’d dream again.
I sigh staring back at myself. And it feels like the more I stare into the mirror, the more my face morphs and changes. That doesn’t look like me.
I purse my lips. My hands slam on my vanity as I aggressively get up.
I let out a harsh sigh moving away from the vanity.
I get a notification from my phone, notifying me that my Uber is here. I snap out of my trance. Honestly I’m so glad that that caught me off guard because I actually might’ve broken that mirror if it hadn’t.
I grab my tiny handbag and shove my phone into it. Then I just walk outside.
Once I’m in the Uber again I drift away in thought.
Chris had done nothing but mess with me, since I’ve known him. Since forever.
Now I’m in my tiny dress, my ass probably showing slightly when I walk, and I’m gonna get laid from someone other than Chris.
Maybe I can obsess over someone else.
And maybe I can finally remember that Chris is not the only human with a dick. And not the only one who can use it.
Before I knew it we were already there. I could hear the slight music from outside blaring into the car.
I tip the dive and finally get out the car.
I heard the car speed say behind me. While the house party in front of me had loud obnoxious music playing.
I swing open the door. I sigh at the tight crowd of people and just decide to card through them.
I’m getting Deja vu from this really. But last time I’d been here I’d seen Chris almost fuck charlotte, and than proceed to fuck me.
Chris..
Chris?
I raise an eyebrow staring back at a person across the room. He was dancing a solo cup already in his hand.
Okay so I was extremely late, so what.
I need to stop going to parties ‘fashionably’ late. By the time I arrive everyone is already wasted.
I purse my lips pushing through the drunk teenagers to get to the kitchen. From where I was standing I could still see Chris.
I need to stop thinking about him.
But how could I do that when he is just a few feet away, probably drunk and dancing with charlotte.
I turn to the counter grabbing some random liquor and pouring it into a, presumably, clean solo cup.
I down half of it in seconds. I need to feel the rush. I need to get drunk.
Honestly I could go looking for Ethan, but than I’d probably hang out with him in the backyard and smoke all light. Or I could find myself some good dick.
★ ★ ★
After a good few drinks I was dancing with some dude. I don’t know his name, and I don’t care to.
This would be a simple hook up.
Before I know it he starts to guide me outside mumbling something to me about how we can fuck at his house.
And honestly I don’t know why I let him drag me out of the party.
I don’t really want to hook up with him, I want Chris. But I won’t stop him either. I don’t care to.
Suddenly we stop walking. And within seconds I feel his hands off of me, and a loud cry echo through the night air.
I turn around to see what’s happening.
It was Chris. He’d punched my possible hook up guy. My mouth falls open. I want to say something. To tell Chris to fuck off and leave. But I want Chris.
I don’t pay attention for one second and suddenly the guy is on top of Chris beating him up.
I can see from their faces that Chris had gotten a few punches in too though. The guy was taller and bigger than Chris. And I remember something about him being an American football player or something.
Chris manages to flip them around beating up the guy. They wrestle on the ground while I just stand there stupidly and watch.
My drunk brain was processing this way too slow.
Suddenly I see Ethan come into my field of view trying to separate the two on the ground, without getting involved.
I feel another presence next to me. And it’s charlotte. The girl looks as shocked as me. but she also looks more sober.
I snap out of my trance, my slow brain having finally caught up.
I put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder to tell him to back off. And once he does I pull them apart. And they let me.
I yell at both of them about how stupid they are to make a scene like this. Both of them look down in shame.
I turn fully standing in front of the random dude. I slap him across the face and tell him to fuck off.
After that everything is a blur really. Once I somehow got Chris to my house, and up the stairs without waking my siblings, we stand in my bathroom.
Chris is sitting on the closed toilet seat. I sprint downstairs really quick to get him some ice, because, half his face was definitely going to be blue by tomorrow.
Once I’m back I put some alcohol on a cotton pad gently dapping it in his skin as he occasionally takes in harsh breaths.
“Why would you hit him?”
I sigh. That’s the first question I’ve asked since we’ve gotten here.
He holds the ice on his cheek, while I tend to a wound on his forehead. He wasn’t cut up too badly though. It was just a fist fight after all.
“Because he was going to take advantage of you” he scoffs as if the answer to that was obvious.
I purse my lips. Honestly I was subjecting myself to it. I was literally begging for anything, I would’ve been fine with that.
“You had no right to intervene.” I purse my lips. I take the alcohol from the sink and put it back in its place in the cabinet.
I help him up. Chris wasn’t walking bad, I just wanted to touch him.
We walk to my bedroom where he sits down on the bed, and I once again stand between his legs.
I take the ice out of his hands to look at his cheek to see how bad the damage is.
And after a moment I feel his arms wrap around my waist. He berries his non-bruised cheek into my stomach.
“You don’t get it cherry” he sighs, relaxing more as he touches me. “He was looking at you in a weird way.”
“Like what?” I ask. My hand goes to his head. I card my fingers through his messy brown hair.
“Like an object.” He mumbles so lowly, I barely even understand it.
“Oh and you don’t?”
The question is asked flatly. I just look down at him blankly not thinking anything of it.
“No.” He pulls away to look up at me. He looks at me like he is insisting he’s telling the truth.
“I may be rude, but I never look at you like you’re an object.” He scoffs at the accusation. He rolls his eyes hard.
“You don’t?” I ask flatly, not bothering to even act surprised. As much as in hate Chris, he doesn’t treat me bad. Necessarily. He’s just a dick.
He grumbles disagreements turning his face fully into my stomach as he keeps holding me closer.
He starts to complain about his head hurting, and how he fought someone for me and whatever.
I pull him off of me slightly. I was still holding the ice in my hand. It was a bunch of ice cubes I had put together onto some towel.
I slowly sink to my knees between Chris’ legs. I look up at him through my lashes.
“Want me to take your mind off of things baby?”
I ask in a mildly mocking way. But I was dead serious.
Chris lets out a shaky breath. He tugs his shirt off, quickly throwing it off to the side. “Please” he sighs out.
I tug at his belt trying to undo it slowly, to tease him more.
“God I’ve missed you so much.”
His breaths are shaky. His eyes close for a moment. He was getting so worked up and bothered already.
“Have you?” I ask teasingly. He purses his lips slightly staring down at me. He undoes the button on his jeans and finally slides them down.
I help him take them off fully. Then I toss them away.
I look up at him watching him, as he sat only in his boxers in front of me.
“Fuck, you gonna be all submissive like last time?” I mock still looking up at him.
“Cherry, don’t tease please.” He sighs looking down at me.
I stand up quickly and turn to face away from him. Since the dress was a halter dress. I pull my hair to my from teasingly.
“Be a sweetheart and undo this for me real quick.” I don’t wait for long. His hands find my upper back undoing the string of the halter.
I turn back around again letting the top fall, revealing my lacy bra underneath.
I wiggle the dress around a little bit to slide it down. I slip out of it and then kick it away. I was standing in front of him in my matching lacy bra and thong sent.
His eyes trail my body. He looks hungry and needy. Looking submissive as ever.
I lean down to help him take his boxers off. And once he does I sit back down between his legs.
I look up at his dick. And it’s the only one I’ve seen in a while. It’s the only one that I’ve ever found pretty.
Never thought that was possible. But here we are.
The tip was the same red as he has on his cheeks. He was painfully hard and it had pre cum leaking.
I cup it in my hand starting to teasingly slowly jerk him off. “Y/n/n, cherry, please” he whines loudly, to wich I stop my movements.
“Chris” I hiss under my breath my expression harsh. I slap his thigh for a moment to catch his attention. I squeeze his cock lightly.
“My siblings are home. Shut the fuck up”
I hiss. Usually I wouldn’t mind, but my siblings are younger than me. 4 and 5 years. Me being 18, they’re 14 and 13. They don’t need to hear my childhood friend that they have also known for ages get fucked.
“Sorry, sorry” he huffs under his breath. I watch as Chris leans back in his arms looking down at me.
I take one of the ice cubes from the ice in the towel. I then proceed to put it right on his aching tip.
He flinches at the contact of the cold ice in his burning hot skin. I grin at the reaction, watching the way his dick twitches.
“You’re such a tease” he scoffs, to wich I just chuckle.
I drag the ice cube down his shaft before putting it back on the towel with the other few ice cubes. I knew it was gonna melt but honestly I couldn’t care less.
I start to jerk him off slowly again. I lean down to place a peck on the tip, and then proceed to suck him off slowly.
I swirl my tongue only keeping the tip in and staying teasingly slow.
I hear Chris let out a sharp huff, throwing his head back.
“Come on, ma” he says under his breath. His hand snakes into my hair, Slightly gripping at it. And then he harshly pushes me down, making me deep throat him for a second.
I choke on it for a second. Chris starts to move my head, yanking on my hair. I was deep throating him roughly.
I keep my hands on his thighs and pull off. “Don’t” I huff pushing away his hand from my hair, And then smoothing it down again.
I go back to licking a teasing stripe up his shaft, before I go back to deepthroating him, jerking off what I can’t fit in my mouth.
“Ma- I’m-“ he sighs. He was leaning back on his arms his head thrown back. He was trying so hard to keep his moans and groans minimal and as quiet as possible.
I pull off and chuckle. I kiss up his sensitive shaft while looking up at him. Then I get up and hover over him.
I connect our lips in a deep passionate kiss. And while I continue kissing him I lean over starting to straddle him.
Still while kissing him, I start to slowly sink down on his length making both of us moan.
When he bottomed out in me I pull away. My hands go to his shoulders as I just sit there for a moment.
My cunt was aching at the stretch. I had to get used to it again, since we hadn’t hooked up in a while.
I haven’t hooked up with anyone other than Chris in a while. And the last time I had it was not nearly as pleasurable as when I did it with Chris.
“So good for me, baby” I mumble under my breath leaning in more as I wrap my arms around his neck.
His hands trail over my thighs to my hips to hold me.
“Just for you ma.” He mumbles back. We’re so close I can feel his soft breath in my face. He just looks so kissable right now. With his lips plump and swollen like that.
“Oh yeah? Didn’t get pussy from someone else, hm?” I say again my tone low and harsh.
I start to gently grind into him. His hands on my hips don’t stop me or help me either.
“Fuck-“ Chris’ breaths are heavy as he tries to keep his voice low. “You’re the only girl I’ve been fucking.” He admits lowly, the blush on his cheeks only deepen.
“Oh, am I?” I mock as I start to slowly lift myself. I start to ride him, his hands on my hips only being there to steady my movements.
“God- you’re gorgeous” he breaths out staring up at me. His eyes stay locked on mine.
One of His hands starts to trail up my side. And once he reaches my bra, he pulls my body closer to him so he has better access to undo it.
Both his hands back down to my waist now actually helping me ride him harder.
I clench my teeth my moans coming out as sharp breaths as I try to keep quiet. I’m doing a better job than Chris is though.
I put a hand on his mouth to muffle his groans further.
“God- you’re doing so good for me baby.” I pant under my breath, still trying to keep as quiet as possible. My hips pick up pace even more. I continue moving, his tip pressing against my cervix repeatedly.
He mumbles back an agreement, my hand still keeping him quiet.
I continue to ride him at a harsh pace until I feel the knot in my stomach get tighter, ready to snap.
“Chris- I’m so close-“ I breathe out trying to keep myself from moaning.
Chris gently takes my hand from his face putting his own hand on my mouth to muffle my sounds.
“C’mon ma, come for me” he bites his lip. leaning back slightly, he watches as I do all the work. “Go on, get off on my cock”
My pace starts to become more messy and uncontrolled. Chris was also not helping, doing nothing except keeping his hands on my face.
With a muffled moan I slam myself down one last time. My head falls forward as I feel my orgasm wash over me. I feel warm and so relieved.
He takes his hand from my mouth, he then leads me to him by my neck and presses our lips together.
His hands both go back to My waist. just holding my body close to his.
I could still feel him rock hard in me. I knew we weren’t done, but I was appreciating the break.
Chris pulls me off gently and picks me up. He turns us around so he is on top of me.
Us fucking in missionary was always rare as hell. Because we’re there for the benefits. -And according to Chris, he hates my face so much he doesn’t want to see it.
well at least that’s what he used to tell me.
He slides his dick through my folds, before slowly pushing in.
I sigh feeling him fill me up again.
In our enemies with benefits situation we never did anything that felt intimate. The sex felt like sex, and not love. And that’s how it worked. It was good like that.
But like this, Chris, his blue eyes staring right into mine. The way he kept his hand at the curve of my waist, his other hand holding him up placed next to my head.
We were so close, I could practically feel him breathing on my face.
This felt so intimate, like something we, as people who hate each other, shouldn’t be doing
And that’s exactly what it was.
Well I guess we already made the first mistake when we first hooked up.
We were never meant to be. Not like that. Not like this.
So why did it feel so good though?
“You good ma?”
Have I been staring? Probably. But how can I help myself when he is so close to me, looking ever so handsome.
“I’m good. Please move” I whine trying to keep my voice low.
He sinks down, his face burying in the crook of my neck as he starts to move. All slow and sensual.
we barely ever did missionary, and when we did, his face was as far away from mine as possible. But right now it seemed like he was trying to be as close to me as possible.
He occasionally groans into my skin, sending tingles down my spine and right to my aching core. I try to keep my voice low, but still let a few soft moans slip.
“Y/n?” He says abruptly. He keeps up the slow sensual thrust, keeping himself buried deep. Yet he sits up slightly, his forearm next to my head holding him up.
“Mhm?” I say lowly not really trusting my voice.
Our eyes lock. Chris swallows. My eyes trail his features, trailing down to his chest, to his lips and back to his eyes again.
“Can I come in you?”
I raise my eyebrow at the question. Usually we used condoms. I mean I’m on the pill but according to Chris he ‘doesn’t want to take any risk’. But recently we had done it like that more than we had since the whole arrangement started.
“ ‘corse” I mumble back.
And before I know it Chris is picking up pace. He doesn’t move back, keeping himself hovering right above me our eyes connected.
My core was aching from all the over stimulation. So I shudder when he picks up pace.
He still keeps his strokes sensual and deep. I moan lightly, cautiously keeping my voice low.
He re-adjusts my legs, wrapping them around his torso for a deeper angle.
He picks up pace even more. I throw my head back at the overwhelming pleasure, my eyes closing, my mouth falling open in a silent moan.
Chris doesn’t even bother to make me look back at him. He just lets me enjoy this, and watches. Watches the way I look with my head thrown back in euphoria.
“Chris, Chris- chris-“ I keep my voice low but the more I chant his name the higher and squeakier my voice gets.
Chris takes that as a telltale sign that I’m close, but so was he.
He cups my mouth shutting me up. or atleast muffling my moans and whines.
He picks up pace even more. My eyes go back to meet his, my eyebrows scrunched in pleasure.
I tap his wrist to tell him I’m close. He licks his lips. Of course he knew I was close without me telling him.
His hand stays firmly on my mouth, keeping me quiet. “You’re doing so good, cherry”
His other hand goes to my clit in order to finish me off quicker. He rubs it harshly.
Suddenly I throw my head back again, clenching around him. I feel my release wash over me again.
He keeps pounding into me. But his thrusts get more sloppy and uncontrolled. Until his hips stutter. He gives me one last thrust before his spurts of cum shoot into me.
My legs are tense around his torso from the overwhelming pleasure.
I feel warm and so filled. It felt way more intimate than the countless times we’ve hooked up before.
And the fact that he stays there, collapses on top of me, his face in my neck, gently kissing, And not moving off, only made this feel even more intimate.
After a long while of just cuddling, and being in each other’s presence, Chris sits up. He gently and slowly pulls out, making me wince at the loss of contact.
He stares down at my cunt for what feels like a long time. Until his pointer and middle finger meet it again. Pushing the seed that was leaking out of me back in.
“Chris” I hiss my body shooting up. I was now half sitting my arm propping me up, my other hand going to circle his wrist to stop him from moving his hand.
“Awe poor baby does that hurt?” He huffs in a slight mocking tone. But for once it doesn’t seem menacing.
“Yes. don’t do that” I roll my eyes.
He chuckles at the sassy tone. “Well I gotta make sure you don’t waste it.” He sasses right back.
Chris already prepared for the worst outcome.
“I’m still on the pill.” I huff. I then slowly pull his fingers out of me, seeing the way they were covered in a whole lot of our mixed juices.
He chuckles popping his fingers into his mouth.
Matserlist
A/N: I loved writing this series. But it’ll probably only have one more chapter (so 5 in total). This was my first ever series, and it was so fun to write. Love y’all. My dms & req are open 🩷
‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️
Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @t1llysblog
#Spotify#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x y/n#chris sturniolo x you#chris x reader#christopher sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo#christopher sturniolo smut#sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#matthew sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you
226 notes
·
View notes
Note
would u do satoru who actually has six eyes with the reader scenario? it could be anything, like the reader going through his baby pictures and cooing at how cute he looked with one set of eyes open, but the other two werent. or comforting him cuz people think they're freaky. anything fluffy :D
# SIX ‣ GOJO SATORU
✰ — author’s note stop this is so cute.. i changed the prompt a bit i hope u don’t mind. hope this isn’t too long for your taste as well zzz
✰ — cw / tags satoru with literally six eyes , sfw , gn!reader , use of pet names ‘baby’ etc , briefly proof read ( i tried )
✰ — playing n side by steve lacy.
✰ — word count 1.2k
✰ — part two click here.
it was a lazy sunday morning when you decide to wake up early. it was unusual of you, because you usually woke up later than your boyfriend—but you remembered the state of your shared apartment and knew something had to be done.
it was a mess. a complete and utter disarray.
moving in week was finally done, at least technically. some of your stuff was still in cardboard boxes. you knew gojo had some unpacking to do as well, but you figured it wouldn’t hurt to help him—you knew about the long hours he endured.
you’re still groggy when you make your way down the stairs, holding onto the railing for support. you rub your eyes until the sunlight doesn’t hurt anymore—but you glance into your living room and see the piles of tiny boxes, full of trinkets from your previous house and it hurts your eyes all the same.
you yawn and sit yourself down on the couch, scissors in hand and ready to take on the workload. you meticulously cut the tape sealing a particularly damaged cardboard box, deciding you would eliminate the smaller stuff first; gojo would wake up sooner or later and you certainly weren’t going to carry the bigger boxes by yourself.
you turn the flaps over and the sunlight spilling in through the living room windows help visualise how dusty it really is—you don’t think it’s yours. the box must’ve not been opened for quite some time.
it’s a photo frame you find in the box, but there’s way too much dust for you to really see anything. you bring the frame to the kitchen, grabbing a wet rag and wiping the plastic film to the best of your ability. you think this must have been hidden from you on purpose, you’ve never seen this photo in your life—no picture of satoru escapes you, after all. he must’ve not wanted you to see it.
it’s your boyfriend as a child, at a strawberry farm. he’s wearing a sunhat and a basket of berries are being shown off to the camera; his smile undoubtedly huge, and his eyes are glistening in the sunlight the hat failed to deter—all six of them.
you’re wondering why he ever ought to hide this photo from you. you knew about his eyes, and you’ve made it clear that you loved them. though, you can’t really speculate—gojo’s told you briefly about his childhood, but not really in detail. “i didn’t really like showing them when i was young,” was all you got out of him when you asked about his middle school days.
you’re startled when you hear a yawn coming from the stairs, and you shift your gaze from the photo to gojo—adult sized gojo with only one pair of eyes open—who’s making his way towards you. quick reaction time enables you to hide the photo behind you, just as gojo enters the kitchen.
“good morning baby,” he says while rubbing his eyes. he plants a kiss on your forehead, then blinking slowly at you in an attempt to wake himself up completely. “what’re you doing up? it’s 8 a.m.”
you scoff at him, jokingly. “what, am i not allowed to wake up at 8 a.m?”
gojo lets out a chuckle, his voice still raspy. “didn’t say that.”
you smile up at your boyfriend, who’s eyes are still not fully open yet. the slits on his cheek and forehead from his other two pairs of eyes further intrigue you—perhaps, if you dig a little more… would you be able to find photos just like that one?
you feel sneaky, looking through your boyfriend’s things without his permission. of course, you couldn’t help yourself—how could you? his smile looks priceless.
and so, something in you is determined to find every single one.
your mental scheming is stopped, though, when gojo makes a loud gasping noise. you’re snapped back into reality, and you realise he can see the photo frame you’ve hidden behind your back. “y/n!”
gojo is fully awake now, his expression a mix of shock and embarrassment. “how did you find that? i swear i put all those boxes away in my office. . .”
you point a finger at him, accusingly, with your eyebrows furrowed for dramatic effect. feeling offended, you gasp as well. “so you did try to hide them from me!”
he lets a laugh slip through his lips, much too flustered that this is how you discover his childhood photos. he shakes his head, “i’m sorry, y/n. didn’t think it would matter much.”
“why did you hide them? is it because of your eyes?”
gojo nods his head, taking a closer look at his younger self. “they were a bit weird for a six year old to have, no?”
you gasp again, hurt by his statement. the first thought you had when you found the photo was how adorable his eyes were, the different tints of blue shining in the sun—and the missing teeth which were shown so proudly in his smile. how happy he must’ve been to smile like that.
“i love them, ‘toru.”
it was always heartening to hear that coming from you.
when gojo satoru first met you, he was unsure if you’d be weirded out—like how everyone else was when he was younger. he’d learned how to keep the pairs on his forehead and cheeks closed in his teenage years, so it was muscle memory by the time he knew you.
the first time you saw them was a few years ago, an unremarkable tuesday morning: at least that's what you thought, but to satoru—it was everything.
you awaken next to him, and gojo's perplexed. why you were staring at his face so intently? was his bed hair that bad?
“i didn’t know you could open all of them.”
gojo internally cursed himself, thinking it was game over—you’d probably tell him you’ve got to go and never call him back; but you did.
you called him and told him you missed him the following day. that sweet voice of yours he was so relieved to hear.
as a child, people would often call gojo strange looking—his piercing blue eyes already made him intimidating. people would barely look at him; so when there were six of them, it was even harder to make conversation. you guessed a long time ago that that was why he started wearing shades.
people could never look at him directly, but with you—it was a different problem altogether. you just couldn’t stop looking, always telling him how pretty his eyes were. he would find it hard to believe with the way he’d grown up, but it’s undeniable he feels comfortable showing it to you; sometimes feeling all right to go out without his sunglasses on.
“yeah, i know.” gojo’s smile is soft. he leans down and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his jaw on your shoulder and swaying you left to right. “you tell me that all the time.”
it’s cheesy sunday mornings like this you look forward to.
it’s been an hour since you’ve woken up and gojo insisted on helping you finish cleaning—it’s pointless, though: because you two end up on the couch, looking at childhood photos of yourselves—with the occasional embarrassing story time.
at the end of the day, nothing is clean and you two are still on the couch: except gojo is snoring and you’re on top of him with your face buried in his chest, trying to fall asleep despite the inconsiderate noise—photo albums sprawled out on the coffee table.
211023 — this is so bad i’m sorry… TT
#✦ specially made#gojo satoru#gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader fluff#gojo satoru x reader fluff#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#gojo imagine#gojo headcanons#jjk ff#jjk headcanons#jjk x reader fluff#gojo jjk#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n
633 notes
·
View notes
Text
ATEEZ as tiny pocket persons.
warnings: none.
A/n: i had to get this off my system. i was dying imagining this yo.Well, hope u enjoy reading this nonetheless.
Hongjoong.
• he's quiet and reserved when he's in public.
• sometimes you even forget he's there cuz he's so quiet.
• he just be chilling.
• though once you're indoors, he gets goofy.
• you always tease him about it and he gets so red everytime.
• he has THE cutest smile EVER.
• he's so so so precious when he smiles that you'll do the most stupid shit just so u can see him smile.
• this is rare but at times he rambles about stuff that he's been interested in lately.
• and you love it when he does that. It's just so nice seeing him excited about something.
Seonghwa.
• calm and sweet.
• you know how u have like an angel and a devil on your shoulders?
• he's the angel (though his devil side shows itself once in a while 😇)
• he acts like your personal to do list like 'oh you forgot something for your grocery?' Well worry not, he has it all memorised.
• comforts you when u have a bad day.
• one time you bought him one of those mini lego sets and now, he bugs you to buy one every time a new one drops.
• and you do, every single time cuz you love him :) (and u love seeing him get so happy everytime u do)
Yunho.
• a little ball of sunshine.
• he always just peeks out from your pocket, greeting and waving at random people.
• he just emits positive energy.
• you cannot help but smile whenever he's around.
• he loves going outside to explore and try new things.
• though his favourite activity has to be when he games with you.
• he giggles whenever he wins a match.
• so at times you purposely let him win so you could hear his cute giggle.
Yeosang.
• he's a shy one and so CUTE😭
• no seriously you're always gushing over him cuz he's so cute and he gets so shy.
• literally the cutest sight ever.
• he's sweet and always helps you with stuff (though beware he can get quite fussy at times.)
• he love love LOVES it when you buy him little trinkets.
• his favourite is a little doberman keychain thingy that you won for him at a claw machine.
• shows it off every chance he gets.
• he's adorable.
San.
• he's like a cat.
• he acts more like a cat than an actual cat.
• he's always around you.
• if he's not in your pocket then he's on your hand, your shoulder or just anywhere near you.
• also loud.
• he gets loud and giggly when he's happy which is, all the time.
• so if it's a little too quiet around you, then you know something's wrong.
• he's pouty when he's upset. He gets even more clingy, if that's possible.
• also possessive.
• death glares anyone who tries to be a lil too close to you.
• but it's okay, he calms down after you pat his head a little. Que a smiley San!
Mingi.
• he's a clumsy one.
• one time he almost fell out of your pocket because he couldn't sit still.
• infinite energy.
• he's always dancing and singing or just jumping around when he's happy.
• you can't go outside without him drawing people's attention :)
• so you bought him one of those small squishy plushies and he LOVES it.
• he moves around a lot less now as he's always hugging the plushie.
• brings it with him literally everywhere he goes cuz "you bought it for me!" he says.
Wooyoung.
• loud and giggly.
• extra emphasis on loud because seriously, the house is never quiet.
• he's always giggling or just rambling about random stuff.
• what a cutie.
• possessive pt.2
• he's very VERY possessive.
• one time bro almost bit someone's finger cuz they accidentally touched you 😭
• chaotic.
• do NOT leave him alone with San or Mingi.
• he will wreck havoc.
• he also LOVES affection. He'll be hugging you the moment he gets a chance.
• also quite sassy.
• he WILL sass you if u were to do something stupid but it's okay, he still loves you.
Jongho.
• another quiet one.
• he's acts tough and quiet when you're out in public but gets giggly once you're inside.
• he tells you about random things he learnt or something he finds fascinating.
• and it is pretty interesting.
• a prankster.
• he pranks you at times and laughs his ass off cuz u fall for it every. single. time!
• also a good listener.
• he always knows when you're having a bad day and listens to ur vents.
• If you don't wanna talk abt it, that's fine too. He has great advice.
• he's not too prone to affection but he'll hug you once in a while when u least expect it.
• he's too cute 😞
#ateez#ateez imagines#ateez x reader#ateez fluff#ateez drabbles#ateez oneshot#ateez fanfic#hongjoong x reader#seonghwa x reader#yunho x reader#yeosang x reader#choi san x reader#mingi x reader#wooyoung x reader#jongho x reader#mingi fluff#choi san fluff#seonghwa imagines#kim hongjoong#yeosang fluff#ateez scenarios#jongho fluff#wooyoung fluff#ateez headcanons
382 notes
·
View notes
Text
Excuse me but the idea of MC and Xav sitting on their respective balconies and texting each other The Tea while people watching in their neighborhood is both so silly and so endearing to me.
So let's go on a small adventure, shall we?
Warnings: None.
Just fluff. Pure, unadulterated fluff.
The late morning sun was already warming you through the windows of your tiny apartment before you'd even stepped foot outside. It was finally mid-spring in Linkon, which meant you could enjoy your late breakfast on the patio without having to worry about a stray chill or errant frost dampening your weekly Saturday 'brunch' plans.
Opening the patio door with your granola bar in one hand and phone in the other, you settle into the cushioned bench that overlooked your apartment courtyard and took a deep breath. Sometimes it felt like winter was neverending in Linkon, but you could finally feel the tension of the gripping cold that had settled in your bones start to slowly bleed from you.
After getting comfortable, you finally pulled out your phone, and quickly found your brunch 'date's' contact info, sending him the customary "Get up it's people watching hour" text.
[Hey Xav, you up? I'm already on my balcony?]
It doesn't take long for his reply. This has been your weekly tradition for a few months now. Ever since you had both just so happened to see that kid getting dragged down the street by the monstrous hound, it had become something of a... habit for the two of you to text each other the funny happenings on your street when you were home. Not that either of you were particularly prone to gossip, but the simple domesticity of it was oddly comforting after a long week of getting slogged on by wanderers.
[Yeah I'm up. Give me a sec]
The soft ping of your notification broke the peace, followed shortly by the shuffling of his patio door sliding open from above you. Sure, you could simply call out and greet him, as the acoustics out here are great and the soundproofing is atrocious, but the silence is cozy, and the atmosphere almost feels magical. This is your ritual, after all.
It's a bit like a storybook scene, you think, the two of you sharing a moment in time together yet still separated by some outside force. Maybe it was silly, but the fabricated longing almost made it feel romantic in a way that you're sure your neighbor would find ridiculous.
When you hear his footsteps above you come to a halt, you immediately notice something in particular is missing, however.
[You forgot your coffee Xav. Are you gonna be able to stay awake?]
[How could U tell?]
[I didn't smell any burning 🤭🔥]
He doesn't reply, but you can hear the huff he makes over the railing as his footsteps retreat, fading behind the sliding door once again. You don't even try to hold back the laughter his reaction elicits from you, hopeful the concrete carries it to him easily.
When he finally does reemerge, faint smell of bitter charred beans on the wind, his phone is already buzzing with the morning's newest additions to your people watching portfolios.
An older man you'd long ago dubbed "Green Thumb" who liked to frequent the flower garden outside your apartment complex was already taking photos of the new stargazer lily blossoms that had just opened this morning. So enamored by the vibrant petals, he didn't even seem to notice the couple he'd backed into who'd happened to spill their groceries all over the sidewalk. You heard Xavier call "Watch out!" From above you when he'd recognized the impending impact, but at your distance, it was no use.
[That was nice of you Xav. Too bad it didn't help 🫠]
[I can't believe they didn't see Green Thumb. He was so hard to miss. Even when Ur distracted U still see better]
[HEY! I'm not the one who sleep walks! 💀]
[And yet I'm always there to guard Ur back partner]
He's right of course, though you're not going to tell him. Xavier likes to play the part of a soft and harmless little thing, but it doesn't take much to stoke the hunter into burning hotter than you intended. His evol might be light, but you know better than anyone that light, under careful concentration, can start a blazing fire if you're not mindful. His teasing isn't ever harmful though, so instead you decide to simply poke the bear.
[Only because I'm starting to suspect you like it back there]
The distinct sound of a phone accidentally hitting the concrete marks the end of that thread.
Its not long before another of your regulars, pair of young kids Xavier had called the Trouble Twins arrived on scene. Aptly named for the number of times their poor mother has chastised them for chasing the ducks and picking the flowers, the siblings were quite the rambunctious duo. Today they seem to be a few steps ahead of their vigilant mother, rushing into the park with high-pitched hollers and improvised swords made of small branches they'd found. Today's unfortunate conquest seemed to be the pigeons that were being fed by the local grannies.
[They look like a pair of knights today don't they?]
[Knights? Don't knights usually protect people?]
[Maybe they're protecting us from the pigeons]
[Xavier those old ladies look pretty mad idk. That one even tried to chase the boy and almost caught him!]
The pause in messages was punctuated by his soft laughter above you, carried on the spring breeze. It was so warm, so genuine, so comfortable. You didn't need a mirror to feel the heat bloom in your cheeks; the overwhelming sensation of ardor flooding you at the the very sound.
[You're right. He needs more training. A good Knight should never be caught by an old lady]
[.... I don't think that's the message here Xav]
The rest of your morning goes back and forth like this for another hour. Watching your favorite people pass by, concocting new and interesting stories for them as they pass your balconies. Xavier has very interesting and oddly insightful opinions on those around him, considering you don't really recall seeing him with many friends. None the less, his company and companionship on your balconies has easily become your favorite part of the week. The only noises between you are the laughter that passes back and forth as the texts volley from one to another.
Finally, as the afternoon sun starts to become an uncomfortable heat, your phone chimes once more.
[I'm getting kind of hungry]
[Oh good. You're warning me this time. Thanks!]
[What?]
[No. I was going to ask if U wanted to go to lunch. With me, I mean?]
And just like that, the storybook was snapping shut. No longer a fragment lost in time where two people gazed at the same scene together from two separate places, but a tangible moment you could step into. Something intimate and real.
Perhaps you stayed in this thought a moment too long, or your silence below him made him second guess himself, as the chime of your phone snapped you out of your daze again.
[I didn't mean to impose if U have plans]
[I know it's Ur day off too]
Fumbling with the suddenly slippery device, softly cursing, and praying he didn't hear, you quickly hammer out the only thing that's been playing in your head on repeat-
[Yes absolutely! I'd love to grab some lunch I'm starving]
[Meet me downstairs in 30?]
#look i had 3 hours of sleep and i chose to this idk why#written in a single go like a psychopath#and now im going to bed gnight ♡#lnds#love and deepspace#lads#l&ds#love & deepspace#xavier#xavier love and deepspace#xavier lnds#xavvy baby#kay writes#this text was just too cute I had too i was over come with emotions#god why is Xavier so adorable ugh#so soft boy sometimes i love himb#also-#not proofread we die like men#sorry im Le~ tired ill edit tomorrow
151 notes
·
View notes
Note
I love your writing, please please give the world Mike comforting his partner on their period 🙏🏻 that man would be so compassionate but also confused and asking tons of questions so he can explain it to Abby when she’s older
okay so, i'm about to start my period. i can sense it, i'm cramping, i'm going insane, so here is some mike fluff!! i need this, y'all need this, we all need this rn. this isn't great, last min as always :p i promise one day i'll give yall something more quality lol. also am sorry if this isn't exactly what u were lookin' for!! i hope u enjoy :P
word count: 1,298
warnings: mentions of blood (period), swearing
summary: mike takes care of you while you're on your period. completely unaware to how it all works, he does the best he can, trying to educate himself in the process.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
You were in pain. That was one thing you knew for sure. For the past two days, your insides had felt like Satan himself was ripping them out, tearing each part of your uterus into tiny, itty bitty pieces, perhaps even doing a little happy dance on them. As your body was stretched out on the couch, your hand gripping your abdomen, you felt like your life was flashing before your eyes. You'd called off work, waking up feeling worse than you had during that time of the month in a while. You couldn't picture yourself doing much of anything but laying on the couch in the living room of your boyfriend, Mike, and his little sister, Abby, who was much like your own. You'd slept over the night before, opting to stay there as you felt much more comfortable.
Once a month, you became queen bitch, completely insufferable to be around. You were grumpy, sick, nauseous, and aching. You couldn't help it. Your cramps were always amplified more than the average person. Your pain tolerance seemed to get weaker when the time came. With that being said, everyone around you had to suffer the consequences. You and Mike had only been together a few months. Every month, he'd get a little bit better about handling it. The first month, he was slightly standoffish, not sure if his assistance would make things worse or if it would help you. He'd offer you pain medicine, get you water when you needed it, and fetch the heating pad when you cried out in pain. He was always sympathetic, helpless in his inability to make your pain disappear. Mike loved you, and the last thing he wanted was for you to ache the way that you did.
In the following two months, he'd gotten more adventurous, even offering to go out and buy your preferred pads and tampons. Even though he brought back the wrong thing the first time (he brought back the preteen pads, which would not be helpful to your heavy flow), he was sure to correct it the next. With his learning curve coming to an end, Mike was much better with his assistance. Right as your eyes began to flutter closed, the front door to Mike's door flung open, an exhausted Mike walking through, his hair messy and his skin somewhat pale due to his lack of sleep. Although he was working normal human hours now after getting a regular job, the adjustment period was difficult. He somehow felt even more sleep-deprived than before. You slowly sat up, a confused look on your face as you glanced over at the time. It was only noon, which didn't make sense. Mike typically wouldn't be home until around 5:30pm.
"Mike?" you questioned, your voice laced with pain as your head cocked to the side.
"Yeah, baby?" he questioned back, placing three plastic bags from the store onto the coffee table in front of you. He sat beside you on the couch, moving your legs to lay across his lap. He tenderly reached his hand across you, his warm palm slipping under your shirt to touch your aching stomach. He rubbed slow and gentle circles on the tender area, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as it somewhat relieved the pain. "You feelin' any better?" he spoke softly, his tone dripping with sympathy and worry.
"Why are you home? What's in the bags?" You were confused. You didn't mean to sound like a bitch, but the pain was making you somewhat delirious, and the thought of him simply coming home early just didn't occur to you. He chuckled, shaking his head as he playfully rolled his eyes.
"Can you not just let me take care of you for once?" he grumbled, grabbing the plastic bags from the table and placing them gently into your laps. In the first bag, he pulled out a brand new pain reliever bottle and miniature heating pads. They were wireless and single-use. You could stick them into your pants and wear them around wherever you needed. He also pulled out a new bubble bath, lavender scented, that claimed to have infused pain-relieving essential oils. The next bag contained your favorite kind of chocolate, some other kinds of candy, and a little stuffed bear. The bear wasn't any bear, but one that could be heated up and again used as a heating pad. Inside of the same bag, he also pulled out a brand new box of the right kind of tampons and a bouquet of flowers. The last bag contained burgers and fries from your favorite fast-food place, something yummy to get into your aching system.
You watched in awe as he pulled out each item, a sheepish but proud grin spread across his face as he did so. He was proud of himself, mostly because he felt useful, he felt like for once he was the one taking care of you. Mike typically felt like a burden, like he wasn't worth caring for, regardless of how much you attempted to convince him otherwise. Times like these were important to him, times when he could make you feel safe, secure, loved.
"I, uh, heard you this morning. I realized you were in a lot of pain, wanted to do something nice. I took the day off of work, thought I'd surprise you with some stuff to make you feel good. Got us some lunch too, thought maybe we could go lay down in the bed and watch movies, eat some junk together? I'll take real good care of you," he said, scratching at the back of his neck with a hopeful grin. You looked back at him with your own wide grin, the churning cramps in your stomach not subsiding but instead simply not your main focus at the moment. You nodded your head, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
You helped him carry the brand-new goods and the food to the bedroom. You plopped down onto the bed as Mike leaned over you, gently kissing your head. He tucked you into the blankets, ensuring you were nice and warm. He closed the curtains tightly, all too aware of the vision-blurring headaches you got on your period. He put up one finger to signal he'd be right back. Once he returned, he had a glass of water and heated up your brand-new heating pad bear. He placed your wired heating pad onto the small of your back, pressing two kisses to your forehead again. He then insisted you lift your head, helping you to swallow the pills. After, Mike cuddled up next to you in bed.
The two of you watched random movies and TV shows for the rest of the day, his hand seldom leaving your stomach. He constantly had you wrapped up near him. He kept you medicated and fed, refusing to leave your side. Mike was content. Even though you were a bitch during this time, you were appreciative. He loved you and it was clear, he'd do anything to take care of you.
While deep into the show you were watching, you felt a pair of eyes staring into the side of your head. You lifted your head, looking over to Mike with a cocked eyebrow. "Yes..?" you questioned, staring at his somewhat nervous expression.
"Um, do you think, you could maybe explain periods to me? Y'know, all of it, the bloody stuff, the moody stuff.. I just.. wanna be prepared for Abby," he asked sheepishly. A chuckle left your lips as you shook your head.
"Of course, Mikey. I can explain it to you," you hummed, pressing a kiss to his lips before you went into detail, explaining female anatomy to your 25-year-old boyfriend.
#josh hutcherson x reader#mike schmidt#mike schmidt fluff#mike schmidt x reader#michael schmidt x reader#mike schmidt imagine#josh hutcherson fanfic#josh hutcherson fluff#josh hutcherson imagine#josh hutcherson
361 notes
·
View notes
Text
yeonjun w/ an inexperienced s.o
a/n: yooo the legendary yeonjun pic :P, anyways i decided to just follow the oldest member pattern I hope that’s ok anonnie :>
requested: yes!! thank uuu
tw/genre: cursing, fluff, campus au ig(?), fboi yeonjun kinda not really, insecurities so like minimal angst I suppose, tell me if I missed anything :]
•-•-•-•-•-•
-ok so yeonjun. practically everyone has had a crush on him at least two times in their life
-you’ve heard of his charms and smooth-talking and thanked god every day he’s never talked to you because PHEW you had no idea how to respond to that holy moly
-ok once again we are at a party and yeonjun sees you and thinks ur super duper pretty and he’s like “omg isn’t that the person who made someone cry because they responded to ‘i love you’ w thanks?”
-and that only happened because you didn’t know to respond with “i love you too” or “aww thanks” so whateves but you’re pretty notorious for being clumsy with relationships and avoiding getting into them
-so he walks up to you and is like “hey” w rizz and he finds your awkwardness both endearing and refreshing
-the crowd he hangs around with are familiar with sucking up to people or being charming, being automatically magnetic, and in the nicest way possible you weren’t really like that
-but you two become friends and date congrats
-he thinks you’re the cutest ever like genuinely
-maybe it’s the virgo in him but he likes teaching you things or at least helping you through them
-like your first proper kiss or make out or whatever, he walks you through it without making it awkward or patronizing and you appreciate that
-he’s very open about your relationship, he wants you to know he doesn’t care if anyone has nasty opinions on the two of you, he’s proud to show you off
-lowk tho i do feel like he gets insecure if you don’t express your love or affection for him but he also understands so he’s super conflicted and aghhh
-but then ur friend is like “what about gift giving or expressing love in your own way?” and ur like “omg ur so right?”
-and so everyday you write sticky notes or little letters reminding him of all the reasons why you love him, or you do tiny acts and you explain “until I get more comfortable I want to show you I love you in my own way” and he cries
-like he actually cries it was kinda awkward but sweet at the same time, he really appreciates you making an effort for him
-so after that he really cherishes ur little expressions of love :) and then gets pissed if anyone says u don’t treat him right
-because nuh uh yes u do, in ur own way
-likes to fluster you on purpose though, thinks you look cutest when you’re flustered and confused
-he won’t make fun of you but he’ll tease you for sure (if ur ok with it), but he always somehow compliments you too??
-“how can someone as gorgeous as you be so inexperienced with relationships?” and ur not sure whether you feel called out or flattered
-takes you on lots and lots of dates so you can experience what it’s like having a nice boyfriend who’s good to you! he’ll make sure this relationship will be the standard and more for any future partners u have.
-(not like you’ll have anyone else you’re too in love w him)
-never misses a beat with you, because he’s so good at conversation and being a flirt it doesn’t matter if you can’t reciprocate cuz he’ll just carry the convo lol
-“uhhh thanks for the flowers yeonjun :]” i love u too.” “yo whaaaat” and he just winks and kisses ur cheek
-what a weird couple, anyways
-he likes to push you a little bit, not really for your relationship but because it’s amusing
-like if you want physical affection but feel too shy to ask for it he’ll play dumb until you get all pouty and sulky
-“please give me a kiss oh my god jun” “shshsh I’m sorry I was joking!!”
-one time at a party this girl was hardcore flirting with yeonjun and talking about how she LOVESSS pda and how she’s SOOO EXPERIENCED and how she knows how to treat a man and she’s doing this all in front of you, rlly testing your patience
-yeonjun just rolls his eyes and squeezes your hand that’s loosely being held in his, but before he knows it you dragged him by the collar to give him a kiss
-if love isn’t ur fuel for confidence, jealousy and spite sure is
-“good thing I have a partner who treats me perfectly,” yeonjun says after you do your little smooch n she’s so pissed ur giggling
-yeonjun always is like “You don’t have to,” or “take your time,” and “only if you want to, ok?”
-so you don’t have to worry about meeting his expectations, the only way to disappoint is if you don’t feel comfortable enough setting boundaries and then he’s disappointed in the both of you
-makes u feel like the safest ever but also so flustered and giddy
-ok bye I’m devastated why r u so cute in these
#txt fluff#txt drabbles#txt reactions#txt imagines#txt scenarios#txt x reader#yeonjun scenarios#yeonjun fluff#txt headcanons
551 notes
·
View notes
Note
I know its super serious in kastron rn but imagine graves gifted reader her own puppy to train I know it would be hilarious 😂
oh my god i am obsessed with this!!!!!! i recently just got an 8 week old mini goldendoodle puppy so now we're like twins 😁
also, this won't fall in chronological order with the list i have going on, so this will be placed in an "extras" category! this new category will most likely be requests and/or works that i can't really find a good place to put them in chronological order!
king!ghost x reader -- puppy love ** extras
warnings: none
"So... what do you think, your majesty?"
You look at the small English springer spaniel puppy cradled in Graves' arms.
You can't help but smile at the sight of the adorable puppy nestled in Graves' arms. Its eyes, wide and curious, meet yours, and a tiny tail wags with boundless energy.
"Oh my gosh, she's so cute," you gush, reaching out to gently stroke the puppy's soft fur. "But, what's the occasion?"
"She wasn't responding well to the training for hunting, but I reckon she would have a better time inside the castle." With a shrug, he explains further, "But I also figured you could use a bit of company, your majesty. A loyal companion, perhaps."
Missing the way he looks at you smugly, you dote on the little spaniel.
"Hi baby," you coo softly, coming closer to pet the dog. She licks your fingers hesitantly, nuzzling into the palm of your hand.
"See? She loves ya already. Not surprised in the slightest."
You laugh awkwardly at that comment, but decide to brush it off. Graves has always been a bit peculiar to you, but now that he's giving you a puppy, you can't help but brush past the fact. You exchange a glance with Graves, his eyes holding a hint of something you can't quite place.
"Well, I appreciate the gesture, Graves. She's adorable," you say, smiling genuinely.
Graves chuckles, his eyes flickering with amusement. "Just a gesture of goodwill. Not a problem at all."
"Can I hold her?" you ask, looking up at his eyes.
"Why, of course," he says, flashing you a million-dollar smile. He lifts the puppy into your hold, making sure she's settled in your arms comfortably. As you cradle the little spaniel in your arms, you can't deny the growing joy in your chest. The puppy nuzzles against you, innocent and sweet.
"She's got a calm demeanor, perfect for keeping you company," Graves remarks, watching the interaction with an amused glint in his eye.
You chuckle, enjoying the warmth radiating from the small bundle in your arms. "Thank you, Graves. It's a thoughtful gift."
"Anything for you, your majesty," he says, inclining his head slightly. "Now, I'll leave you to get acquainted with her. I'm sure she'll keep you company well. Don't hesitate to reach out to me with any questions. I am the expert, after all."
You give him a lopsided smile, "Yup, noted. Thank you again."
Graves bows respectfully and turns to leave, leaving you alone with the puppy. As he walks away, you catch a shadow of a smirk on his face, but you shake off your apprehension, attributing it to his usual nature.
Excitement bubbles within you as you go to show Simon your new spaniel puppy in your arms. The joy radiates from your face as you rush to find Simon, eager to share the news.
Entering his private study, you find Simon engrossed in a letter, his brow furrowed in concentration. You clear your throat, and Simon looks up, his gaze meeting yours. Then his eyes trail to the puppy resting in your arms.
You can't contain your enthusiasm. "Graves got me a puppy! Look at her, Si, isn't she so cute?"
Your eyes are sparkling as you present the adorable little bundle of fur to Simon, hoping he shares in your excitement. The puppy wiggles in your arms, tiny tail wagging energetically.
Simon's gaze flickers from the puppy to you, a mixture of surprise and something you can't quite place crossing his features. "A puppy? Why?"
"He thought I could use some company," you explain, your excitement undiminished.
"Use some company—? But you have me?" Simon's reaction is less than enthusiastic.
You chuckle at Simon's slightly grumpy response. "Of course, I have you. But Graves thought a puppy would be a nice addition to the castle. And look at her, isn't she so sweet?"
"Graves, huh?" he mutters, a hint of grumble in his voice. How he wishes he thought of giving you a dog before Graves did.
You raise an eyebrow at his tone. "What's wrong? He's just being thoughtful."
Simon leans back, crossing his arms. "I dunno. He's always got something up his sleeve. He's a valuable member of staff here, I'll give him that. But he's just a bit... slinky."
You understand Simon's skepticism, given the tension that has always existed between him and Graves. You try to reassure him, "I know, but Simon, it's just a puppy. Look at her, she's harmless and absolutely adorable."
Simon's eyes remain fixed on the puppy, his expression still guarded. "I dunno about this, love. What's the real reason Graves gave you a puppy, hm?"
You sigh, realizing Simon is probably just jealous. "Si, he said the puppy wasn't responding well to hunting training, and he thought she'd be happier in the castle."
Simon grumbles under his breath, but he relents a bit. "Fine, but keep an eye on that dog." And I'll keep an eye on Graves, is what he wants to say, but he bites his tongue.
You nod, understanding Simon's concerns, and decide to change the subject. "Oh my god, isn't she the cutest thing?"
Simon rolls his eyes, but there's a warmth in them as he looks at the playful antics of the little spaniel. "Fine, she's cute."
He stands up from his desk as you circle around to him. Simon's expression softens, and he reaches out to gently pat the puppy's head. The puppy, sensing his mixed emotions, snuggles against Simon's hand, as if trying to win him over.
"Do you want to hold her?" You hold the puppy closer to Simon, who can't resist the charm of the tiny spaniel.
Simon hesitates for a moment, then nods. "Yeah, alright."
As you carefully transfer her into Simon's arms, you can't help but coo over how cute they both look. The puppy seems to work her magic on Simon, melting away his reservations, at least for the moment.
The small spaniel squirms a bit in Simon's arms, but soon settles, gazing up at him with trusting eyes. Simon, despite his initial resistance, finds himself chuckling as the puppy licks his fingers with enthusiasm. You notice the way his eyes soften, crinkling in the corners as he smiles.
"Such a sweet girl," he murmurs at the puppy, stroking her head gently.
"You should see yourself right now," you squeal giddily, the sight of a little puppy in your husband's arms making you melt.
Simon chuckles, "Yeah, she'll fit in here. Gonna train her well. Maybe she can be something like a guard dog."
. . .
A few weeks have passed, and training Stella has been nothing short of rewarding.
She's been such a good dog, already living up to Simon's expectations. He's such a softie with the dog, and you love to tease him about it.
Graves had shown up one day, inquiring about your puppy and how she's been getting along.
"Stella's been listening to my commands more easily these days," you say, kneeling on the floor as you pet Stella.
Graves nods thoughtfully, hands clasped behind his back as he observes Stella. Simon stands right behind you, arms crossed over his chest as he sizes up Graves.
"Indeed," Graves responds, his gaze focused on Stella. "She seems to be adapting well, better than she would have been in the fields. A fine addition, wouldn't you say, your majesty?" He looks up expectantly at Simon.
Simon grumbles a bit, trying to maintain a composed demeanor. "Yes, I do have to say she's quite lovely."
You continue rubbing Stella's belly, keenly aware of how Simon stands rigid beside you.
"So, because you're here, Graves, any tips on training? Or have I handled it quite well myself?" Simon asks, pride laced in his voice.
Graves, unfazed, chuckles. "Well, I'm always here for advice, your majesty. But it seems you've got everything under control."
Simon smirks, feeling a small victory. "That's what I thought."
You roll your eyes at Simon's response, hitting him in the ankle with your fist to get him to knock it off.
Graves smoothly shifts the conversation. "Training a dog is a team effort, wouldn't you agree, your majesty?"
Simon raises an eyebrow, catching the nuance in Graves' words. "Indeed, a team effort. We all contribute."
"Absolutely," you chime in, giving Simon and then Graves a pointed look. "And Stella is thriving with both of your contributions."
Simon scoffs under his breath, but doesn't say anything further.
Standing, you pick up Stella, holding her close to your chest.
"Thank you again for coming to check up on her, Graves. I appreciate it."
Graves offers a gracious nod. "It's my pleasure, your majesty. Stella is in good hands, I can see that."
Simon, still slightly on edge, adds, "And we're quite capable of taking care of her ourselves."
Graves raises an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Of course, your majesty. I never doubted that for a moment."
You shoot Simon a look, petting Stella.
Graves clears his throat. "In that case, I'll be on my way. But do let me know if you ever need any assistance, your majesties."
As Graves exits the room, you turn to Simon with an amused smile. "You know he's just messing with you, right?"
Simon grumbles, "I know, but he always has to have the last word."
You shake your head, handing Stella to Simon. She latches onto him, cuddling into his muscled arms.
"I still don't think I've ever seen anything cuter in my whole life," you say, your gaze fixated on Simon holding Stella.
"Get the court painter, it'll last longer."
"Ah, such a good idea Si! How does Thursday sound?"
"What? No—"
- - - - -
(masterlist)
#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon “ghost” riley x reader#simon “ghost” riley x you#hyperactivelyme
236 notes
·
View notes
Note
hii!! could u do a skz (preferably i.n or ot8) when they have an idol!so and they reveal their relationship??
hi anon!! i tried to make this kind of as realistic as possible but at the same time i feel like jyp would never let this happen so this is what i came up with😭
Pairing: ot8 x gn!idol!reader
Genre: fluff, a tiny bit angsty i guess
Warnings: none that i could think of, everyone's stressing
Word count: 1,3k
i hope you like it <3 (sorry it took so long)
Channie
realistically, i don’t think chan would want to reveal the relationship up until after the peak of their career if ever. i feel like he’s just too tied down by all the responsibilities he has towards the company. but i also think that out of all of the other members he would do the best at consoling you if you ever wanted to go public and he told you no. he would feel so bad but it’s just something he knows he can’t risk. and a big part of why he wouldn’t do it is that he’s afraid you’d receive hate so he’s really just trying to protect you and your career.
if the relationship ever got leaked, boy would have to do so much damage control. even if it’s accepted by everyone and actually somehow boosts your careers and only has good outcomes. mans would be out there writing apology letters like “hi, this is stray kids’ bang chan and i’m so sorry i lied to you all about my relationship.” like it’s not his private business.
Lee know
lee know would throw in little quips and hints during things like skz code and stuff. do you know how he talked about the friend he went to japan with and said he was his boyfriend? he’d do that with you as well. pretend that he’s joking and when they’re all asked about your group he’d say “yea, we hung out once. they’re actually my partner now.” and then do the little :] smile. hannie would obviously throw in a little “what about me?” and then the whole mention about your relationship goes unnoticed. but he would try to slowly get there through hints.
if this relationship ever got leaked, he’d come over that same day with the biggest smile on his face. i feel like he’d genuinely be happy and i think someday, down the line, he’d confirm it on his own by sending a not the most flattering picture of you surrounded with his cats to bubble. for which you’d scold him later.
Changbin
i feel like changbin would really want to tell EVERYONE. like, he’s so proud to be your boyfriend and he wants to tell the world. but he knows he can’t. he would also just mention you during skz talker and stuff. i think he’d show the camera a video of you doing a dance trend or something and be like “waaah, aren’t they so talented?” meanwhile in his head he’s also adding “and they’re all mine”.
he’s happy as well when the relationship gets leaked. is even happier that it happens around the time of your new comeback because now he can do your dance challenge with you and not feel weird about it. wouldn’t address it but in his next vlog, he tells the staff not to blur you out anymore. (which i know that they don’t really post vlogs anymore BUT BINNIE’S WERE MY FAVORITE AND I MISS THEM OKAY)
Hyunjin
feel like hyune would be STRESSED when you first bring up the idea of going public. he’d tell you that he’ll think about it but is probably the most open to it. he’d have a meeting about it with the higher ups and you would too but it would be a while before they actually allowed you to do it.
when it does happen, i think it would just be him posting pictures from a versace event and then the last picture would be the two of you together. your back pressed against his chest, his hand placed over your stomach and your hand reaching back to hold his face while looking at each other. you’d obviously be wearing your versace outfits and the caption would be something like “thank you donatella, me and my y/n enjoyed the event so much”. safe to say stays go crazy and your fandom does as well.
Jisung
i think hannie wouldn’t be comfortable revealing it but we all know boy has a big mouth. i think he’d just leak his own relationship tbh. yk how sometimes he just speaks poems about how he’s so fond of minho? one question asked about you and he’s spilling on air. “ah y/n? yeah, i’ve never met anyone as hard working… well, except for my members. yeah, they’re just so amazing and we match so well, you know. it was honestly like out of a fairytale. i mean, um… like… you know, like the friendship?” and then chan is jumping into the conversation and changing the topic, thank god for his leader.
he’d be terrified after but you’re there to calm him down. at some point you get asked about it in an interview and you decide to just clear it up. “did you hear what stray kids’ han said about you the other day?” the interviewer asks. “ah yeah. adorable, wasn’t he? i have to say, it really was like out of a fairytale. it might sound corny but we just clicked so well, you know.” you smile and wave into the camera, mouthing a hi baby because you just know that he’s going to watch this interview the moment it comes out. (chan is beyond stressed because of you two)
Felix
lixie would love the idea of going public but he would be too scared of the consequences i think. feel like it would be similar to hyunjin because he would want you at all of his events and at some point the fans start to be like…hmm is it a coincidence that they always appear together at the same events. but obviously that’s not enough to just assume that you’re both dating.
at some point lix accidentally sends the wrong picture to bubble and it’s a picture where you’re cuddled together in bed and you’re kissing his cheek. he meant to send the one of him alone that he took when you went to the bathroom. he’s freaked out but then he just kind of accepts it and is happy because so much pressure has just been taken off his shoulders. the next picture of the two of you that appears on bubble is sent intentionally with a bunch of light blue hearts.
Seungmin
seungmin would absolutely NOT want to reveal the relationship. he has a reputation to uphold as the grumpy one. that’s what he says but really he’s just too scared of the reactions and feedback. he doesn’t mind getting hate, he feels used to that but he doesn’t want you to receive it. he’s also worried that people would put you down for dating him out of everyone else. this leads to you both having a looong conversation where he starts sobbing at some point because he does feel insecure but he never lets himself feel those things unless it’s with you.
this in turn makes him realize that you are very important to him and now he’s even more conflicted. should he tell everyone that you’re his or should he work even harder to protect your relationship. in the end, he decides to let you make the decision. he’s happy with whatever you choose as long as you’re by his side.
Jeongin
i think innie would actually be the one to bring this up with you. after they all get their instagrams, hyunjin gets his piercing and the company lets more loose in general, he feels that it could go through. so he brings it up with jyp and gets the green light (which is not realistic at all but let’s pretend for the sake of this drabble).
i know that innie doesn’t do the ootd posts anymore but i think it would be so cute if he revealed it through that. he would post an ootd post and then on some of the pictures you’re there as well. just a power couple posing together. and then also, some of the more observing fans would notice that hey, isn’t that innie’s shirt that y/n was wearing in their new post. and hey isn’t that the same bag that y/n has in jeongin’s new post? it’d just be really cute because you’d both be so excited about it and flaunting it.
a/n: requests are open by the way!!!
#skz drabbles#stray kids x reader#skz x y/n#chan x reader#chan fluff#stray kids x y/n#lee know x reader#lee felix x reader#seungmin x reader#in x reader#han x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#skz ot8#ot8 x reader#ot8 x you#lee know fluff#lee know x you#hyunjin fluff#changbin fluff#seungmin fluff#jeongin x reader#bang chan x reader#skz x reader#han jisung x reader#han jisung fluff#felix fluff#skz ot8 x reader
323 notes
·
View notes
Note
hello my fellow ratchet apologist!! love your works! 🫶🏼🫶🏼
do you think you could write some sweet and cute sleeping hcs with Ratchet? I just wanna lay on him or him lay on me <3
(ps. this is ur opportunity to write those snoring hcs too 🤭)
thank you for your love on my works too! have a great day/night <3
ROOOOSE I was bouncing off DA WALLS when I saw ur request (it’s not like I immediately started bombing you with love in ur dms nope not at all- me? Naaah never)
THANK U SO MUCH AGAIN AGH!!! 🧡 One grumpy doc hc coming up fresh out da oven! 🚑 hope u like it, love ya 🧡
GRUMPY DOC LOVERS UNITE! 🚑🧡
ʚ Ratchet x reader ɞ
ﾟ｡ ⋆ ☁︎｡ ☽ sleeping headcanons ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ☁︎｡
2nd person
female reader
WARNING: SNORING GRUMPY DOC!
Does he look like he needs sleep?? HE NEEDS ANSWERS!!!
Kidding. He definitely needs stasis. ASAP.
It would be hard to drag him away from work, you'd have to be stubborn to the point you annoy his way to bed
Later you'd realize puppy eyes and a pretty please also works on him which would make his cheek plates go slightly blue
He loves to have you next to him or on top of him, either way nicely tucked in, wrapped in a little blanket burrito because he can't risk you getting cold
His servos... oh his beautiful gentle servos... He'd play with your hair or rub your back to soothe you. He wouldn't speak much but here and there you might hear his handsome voice through a romantic whisper saying:
Ratchet: are you comfortable enough?
or
Ratchet: my sleeping beauty...
Did he do research on Disney princesses to find a proper nickname for you because you're his princess? Perhaps.
He would always watch over you before you fall asleep. Even when you do, he'd stay up a bit longer, listen to your peaceful breathing and focus on your calm heartbeat while dozens of thoughts would be running through his mind, keeping a tiny smile on his face
He always keeps one of his servos around you no matter what
He's a light sleeper so he'd hear every little shuffle you make and slightly open his optic to check on you. If your blanket has slid off of you, he'd gently tuck you back in every time and plant a soft kiss on your temple
If he really overworks himself (and I'm talking 3 days without stasis) a bomb could barely wake him up. If he ends up on his back, he snores, like, real loud. It would definitely wake you up and you'd be greeted by a funny sight of your old grumpy doc with an open mouth, shaking the whole base with his snoring
Considering you wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, you'd have to give him a little nudge or gently caress his face plate to which he'd mumble something in his sleep while getting comfortable on his side as he'd stop snoring
He always wakes up before you, no exceptions. He needs to wake up early and go back to work
He always gives you a kiss on the cheek or forehead before leaving. If you'd tug at his servo and tell him to stay a little longer, he'd refuse of course
But your sleepy little begging would drag him back to bed nevertheless. He'd stay for about 30 minutes longer, listen to your cute sleepy voice and yawning, smiling while having a little morning chit chat with you
He loves your messy morning hair, it's so adorable to him
If you have longer hair and prefer tying it while sleeping, in the morning he'd help you fix your ponytail/braid(s) (whatever you prefer). Same goes if you wear a bonnet, he'd make sure it doesn't fall off throughout the night as well
If you brush your hair, he'd love brushing it for you or make your braid(s) e.g., whatever you ask him to do. He isn't afraid of the size difference, he's confident and very gentle, he learned his way with you
If you oversleep often, he'd scold you the moment you show up, telling you how it's unhealthy and blahblah
If your sleeping schedule is not sleeping at all, ironically enough, he'd tell you not be like him and how sleep is necessary for your species, how stasis works differently, how you should blahblahblah he can be such a parent but he does that because he cares for you
If you're a morning person and go to bed on time, he'd praise you for that
He'd make sure you have breakfast every morning even if it means feeding you because breakfast is the most important meal of the day!!!
youtube
What I was listening to while writing this 🧡
Dividers belong to @dvluc , @firefly-graphics , @animatedglittergraphics-n-more 🧡
#transformers#transformers headcanons#transformers x reader#transformers prime#tfp#ratchet#tfp ratchet#ratchet x reader#tfp ratchet x reader#transformers ratchet#transformers fanfiction#autobots#tfp autobots
535 notes
·
View notes
Text
a bit dirty - ch6
in which you hook up with osamu in a club bathroom and that's just the beginning. prev | ch6 [masterlist]
// a really great idea ~ ᴏsᴀᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ~
7392 ᴡᴏʀᴅs
a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni nsfw, squirting, sex in a bed!!, a lot of feelings and love!!!!, intimacy in more than just the bedroom fr, names names names pet names a million pet names, oral f!receiving, afab she/her pronouns
tori talks: oh good god guys we're finally here. thanks to everyone who is going to read this last chapter even though it literally took me over 6 months to write it. i hope you enjoy it and i'm glad it's over and that it happened. ily all. hope u enjoy.
♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡
you’re not sure you’d admit it to anyone, but walking into osamu’s apartment for the first time feels like coming home after a long day at work. you can see yourself here, more than you can in your own apartment or your childhood home. you feel just a little bit more like yourself, shoulders relaxing in a way that you didn’t think they needed to, breath a tiny fraction steadier. you’re not sure you’ve felt this comfortable in a really long time.
you don’t have to ask him where to put your shoes or where to hang your jacket, and he doesn’t take them from you either. he doesn’t put them away for you or tell you to hang them on the hangers in the empty closet down the hall.
when he unlocks his door and pushes inside, you mimic his motions, placing your shoes gingerly on the rack to the right of the closet between his white sneakers and black work shoes, hanging your jacket on the empty hooks above the spot where you've just retired your shoes.
stepping deeper into his apartment, he offers a small, “so, welcome,” he says, gesturing to the living room, one hand softly wrapped around yours as he tugs you along. stepping past the barrier of the front door, further into osamu’s space, you don’t feel like a guest here. you just feel like you belong.
“oh my god, it’s so clean in here,” you say, a few paces ahead of him now, but he refuses to break contact, to let go of your fingertips so he walks quickly along with you.
“well, yea, i’m not really ever home,” he explains, shrugging, as you walk around his living room eyes stopping at the neatly organized coffee table with cork coasters and a yellow hard-covered book titled this book will make you kinder, at the photos on his wall of him and his brother and him and his restaurant and him and suna, at the plants in the window sill and the dustless, dirtless ledge beneath them.
you shake your head, “no, that’s not true. you come home after work and you’re here before you leave for work, and i’m sure you’re super busy leaving in the morning and super tired when you come home at night, so it’s really impressive that it’s really clean.”
he lets out a half-laugh, a breathy light scoff in the place of a real response. you turn around, looking at him directly with a mischievous look on your face, “unless you cleaned your apartment just for me tonight?”
osamu’s quiet, a very telling silence, a wordless admittance. “oh my god!” you say, hands on your hip, and the slight hold that he has on your fingertips isn’t broken yet, his hand now pressed against your side, fingers curling around your hip as he pulls you a little closer.
“okay!” he admits, “so i am pretty tidy anyways, but there may have been a few dishes in the sink and the bed might not have been made and the couch cushions didn’t look that good before but-”
you shake your head, clicking your tongue, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you tease, “how presumptuous of you that i would come back here after our date?”
“i didn’t think we’d just fuck in the bathroom again, baby, what was i supposed to do, you literally said-” he says, trying to explain himself, unstoppable smile on his face as he pulls you even closer to him.
“do you think i’m that kinda girl? to just fuck you on the first date?” you ask, palm flat against his chest now, the other hand snaking up to lazily drape around his neck.
he shakes his head, wrapping his arms around you tight around your arms and shoulders, holding you in place as he laughs so deep that it sends tingles and shivers down your spine and skin. “you’re very funny, y’know that?” he asks, squishing you against his chest as he presses kiss after kiss into the top of your head.
“you made the bed? fixed the couch cushions? samu, i mean, really, what did you think was going to happen tonight?” you giggle, emphasizing every other word dramatically as you squirm in his tight grasp.
“i mean,” he says, leaning back to look at the warmth on your face, the fluster that lies with it, “you are here, aren’t you? i couldn’t have been that wrong if the cleaning paid off.”
you giggle harder now, leaning up and pressing a kiss into wherever you can reach in his strong hold. “i sure am,” you agree. he loosens his grip, hand falling down your arm to thread his fingers with yours again. he pecks a small kiss against your lips and then your cheek.
“you sure are,” he says, warmly.
you really could’ve stayed in the middle of his living room forever surrounded by couches and books on shelves and an impressive entertainment system. you didn’t need any of it either, didn’t need a place to sit or things to keep you busy, you’d be really happy just staring at osamu for the rest of time, at hearing him laugh, at feeling his pulse in your palm.
“can i getcha a drink?” he asks, pulling you out of this mellow, love-struck state in the name of hospitality.
“only if i can come with you,” you say, looking over his shoulder into the kitchen. your motivation is 70% wanting to stay with osamu and 30% wanting to see what his kitchen looks like: what kind of mugs he has, where he keeps his silverware, if his knives and pans are on display or tucked away in cabinets.
“clingy,” he teases, smile huge because there wasn’t any way that he was leaving you alone for even a second.
“fine! i'll stay in here,” you pout.
he doesn’t respond, only laughs and pulls you by the hand, “come on, pretty.”
you don’t protest anymore, following along happily into the kitchen, forcing yourself to sit on the barstool in front of the bar rather than snoop in his cupboards and drawers. he’s hesitant to let his touch fall from yours, to let go of the contact he has on your hand and your hip, but he does, presses a small kiss into the side of your head, and walks deeper into his kitchen.
from here you can see the kettle on the counter and the knives on a metallic strip above the black countertop. the pans are nowhere to be seen. they must be hidden away somewhere safe. you don’t say anything and neither does he as he pulls wine glasses and mugs and cups out of the cupboard and places them on the countertop in front of you.
and you still don’t feel like a guest.
it feels like osamu getting you a drink is because he loves you, like you could get up and get your own if you wanted to, like you already knew where the tea bags were and the spoons and the shelf that the sugar resided, like next time you would return the favor, let him sit down for a minute while you made the two of you tea or poured another glass of wine.
“what’s it gonna be?” he asks, gesturing to your choices on the bar in front of you.
“y’know you could’ve just asked me that before pulling out all the cups?” you tease, eyes moving from cup to mug to wine glass.
he shrugs, “not as visual.”
“what are you in the mood for?” you ask, reaching to pick up the mug, black ceramic with a gray stripe along the base. you turn it over in your hand, running your fingers along the matte texture. yeah, this feels like a mug osamu would own.
“anything, really,” he says, smiling before the rest of the flirt even comes out of his mouth, “as long as i’m drinking it with you on my couch, i will be very happy.”
you roll your eyes. it’s really unfair how predictable, yet how adorable, he is when it comes to things like that. “alright, how about wine now, tea later?” you ask.
he rests both of his hands on the edge of the counter for a moment, nodding as he does, removing the cups from the counter and pushing the mugs towards the tea kettle. “sounds like a plan, angel,” he says, disappearing behind the pantry door and coming back with a bottle of wine.
he doesn’t recork the wine or put the bottle back, leaves it exactly where he sets it on the counter in a rush to just drink wine on his couch with you. he carries your glass for you as he guides you back to the couch.
sitting on the plush, perfectly set cushions, tucking yourself into the corner against the arm rest, osamu pressed up against you, pulling your legs over the tops of his, his hand resting comfortably on your calf, you’re not sure you’ll ever really be ready to go back to your own cold, lonely apartment. when you close your eyes, you can see this moment next week and next month and three years from now.
your first glass of wine isn’t even finished before he interrupts your current conversation of favorite movies and media with a stupidly cute, nervous question, “so, can i ask you now?”
you want to be stunned or at least fake it, but you can only lean closer into him, setting your wine glass down on the coaster on the coffee table to wrap both of your arms around his bicep. “ask me what?” you tease.
he shakes his head, “y’know that night i thought you were so out of my league.”
you lean backwards, mouth agape, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, “no fucking way.”
“swear,” he laughs, leaning forward to set his glass down next to yours, “and i was out of my depth, had no idea what i was doing, just couldn’t stop staring at you-”
“oh, i know,” you say, recalling his smitten, lingering stare so perfectly that your face feels warm, “every time i would look over in your direction you would be looking at me like this.” you mimic your recollection as best as you can.
he puts his face in his hands. “that’s so embarrassing,” he says, and it’s muffled by his palms. you wrap your hands around his wrists, pulling them away from his face and kissing the backs of them.
“no, no, it was cute,” you say, but he still groans. you continue, “samu, i was into it, obviously.”
he explains further, “sumu was like shoving me over there so blatantly that i almost didn’t go over there.” he shakes his head at the memory, at the alternate universe where his stupid brother alone failed to start the best chain of events of his life. “and then omi leaned over to me and was like, ‘i'll distract your dumbass brother, go have a good night, you deserve it.’”
“remind me to thank him then,” you say, softly, shifting against the couch to lean against his shoulder instead of the armrest.
“will do,” he says, smile in his voice as he snakes his arm around your waist, hand resting on the side of your thigh. “i’ve thanked him plenty for both of us, but it might mean more coming from a new mouth.”
“you just say the most romantic things like it’s nothing,” you say.
“i don’t try,” he admits, “just hard not to be romantic when i’m with you.” he reaches across you with his other arm, pulls you further into his lap until both of your knees are on either side of his thighs and you’re facing him. “sorry,” he mumbles, “wanted to look at ya.”
“you’ve gotta be doing this on purpose,” you whisper.
his fingers scrape against the tops of your tights before rooting on your hips. he shakes his head. “it’s all you, really,” he whispers back. “these thoughts just come into my mind and i say them. love you so much, you make it easy.”
you’re very grateful for this position because it’s effortless to lean down and crash your lips into his, to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him deeper into the kiss, to feel his chest lift to kiss you harder. he tastes like expensive wine and a little bit like you still and you might cry, he’s just really perfect.
he places his hand on your shoulder, holds you in place as he leans back into the couch. the pout is already forming on your lip, so he runs his thumb across it gently. “will you be mine?” he asks, adding before you’ve even answered, “let me love you with labels.”
“oh my god, samu, you’re going to kill me, y’know that?” you say, hands cupping both of his cheeks before kissing him sweetly. “how do you expect me to keep up with this?”
“just say yes,” he says, quickly, “that’s enough for me.”
“of course,” you say, forehead resting gently against his, kiss placed on his nose and then the high of his cheekbone. you repeat it again just in case he missed it the first time, “of course.”
“i’m sorry that i didn’t make this happen sooner,” he says, soft sigh accompanying his remorseful tone.
“stop that,” you hush him.
“i mean it,” he says, sitting up into you a bit more, “if i would’ve figured my shit out sooner, we could’ve been doing this for months.”
“yeah, but you don’t know if everything would’ve turned out the same way,” you say, bringing your hands up into his hair, “if that would’ve been too soon or if we needed to go through all we went through to be as strong as we are now, there’s no way to know, really.”
he smiles at you, not opening his mouth to say anything, just soaking in the moment, humming at your astute thought. you continue, “i guess i just mean that, yea, getting more time with you would’ve been great, but we can’t do anything about that. so i’m just really glad to be with you now, here, drinking wine and sitting in your lap and kissing you.”
“and you say i’m the romantic,” he murmurs, kissing you once more.
“you are,” you argue.
/\ /\ /\
neither of you even finish your first glass of wine. even if you had, there was no way the two of you were untangling from each other and making your way into the kitchen for another, not in the middle of unimportance conversations about your thoughts on christmas lights or osamu’s thoughts on the type of pet he’d like to have one day.
but as the hours tick on, as the clock hands droop lower and lower, osamu knows that you need some sort of transition period to staying the night. “cup of tea before we go to bed?” he asks, head resting against the back cushion of the couch staring into your eyes with as much love as he can.
“are you being presumptuous again, samu?” you tease, but your eyelids are getting heavier and you can’t put a lot of effort into the taunting.
“i’m sorry, princess, do you want to stay the night?” he asks, gut-wrenchingly sincere.
“i would really love that, yea,” you say, flustered in the backfiring of your banter, “and tea sounds really nice too.”
he nods, once, short and happy, ready to move you off of his lap to go get the two of you a final drink before bed, but you get off of him first. “i’ll get it,” you offer, waiting with bated breath for him to fight you on it or to be weirded out by the forwardness of raiding his kitchen to feel the domesticity a little harder.
he doesn’t protest at all, lets the smitten, lingering stare last for a few moments before saying, “only if i can come with you.”
before you’ve made it to the kitchen with osamu in tow, he stops you, plants in place in front of the hallway to his bedroom, and nods towards it. “but first, can we get you into some comfier clothes?” he asks. “nighttime tea tastes better when you’re in comfy clothes,” he reasons. you can’t disagree.
you follow him down the hall to his room. you don’t get a good look at his plainly decorated room or the nicely made bed as you wait in the doorway. he returns quickly with a t-shirt of his. “you can change in the bathroom across the hall if you want,” he offers.
“you know you were inside of me in a fancy restaurant bathroom hours ago, right?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, pushing past him into his room and taking off all of your date clothes. osamu folds them neatly as you set them on the bed. when he picks up your torn tights, he can’t hold back his small laugh.
“oh yea, so funny,” you joke, “you can probably throw those away.”
“but they’re perfectly good for having sex in public bathrooms,” he jokes back.
you pull his shirt over your head, soft cotton taking the place of going out clothes and the difference is already lulling you to sleep. you’re determined to make osamu tea, but you can’t promise most of the cup won’t go cold on the counter.
it doesn’t take long for osamu to be on you, arms wrapped around your waist, hands roaming over your body, “you look so good right now.”
“shut up,” you say, pushing him away with the least amount of resolve anyone has ever had, “imagine how i feel looking at you wearing stuff like this.”
“you look better in it than i do,” he says, shaking his head.
“not possible,” you say back.
he leans down to kiss you once before reluctantly pulling away, walking back over to his dresser to change into comfier clothes as well. if you weren’t so stupidly tired, seeing osamu shirtless and in super casual sweatpants would’ve been the perfect catalyst for your first night together having sex in a bed.
tea. sleep. tea. sleep. tea. sleep. you remind yourself.
“c’mon, angel,” he coaxes, pulling you by your hand back down the hallway and into the kitchen. he leans against the countertop, doesn’t say another word or try to make you tea despite your earlier statement.
you start the kettle with the push of a button, pull the mugs from across the counter in front of you. you pluck two tea bags from the glass jar where they live. you have to open a few cupboards before finding the spoons, but the sugar is right where you think it will be.
“i think knowing that you take sugar in your tea is both the most surprising thing and also somehow completely aligns with who you are,” you reason, pouring the gently boiling water over the tea bags. by the time you finish your sentence, you’ve noticed the enamored look on his face, but you don’t have time to comment on it as he replies.
“that’s because you know me really well,” he says, nodding, loving smile still lingering. you put half of a spoonful of sugar into the cup, stir until it dissolves and then slid it against the countertop to him. he wraps his fingers around the warm cup, brings it to his lips, blows on it gently as if that’s going to do anything at all, and then takes the smallest sip. “perfect.”
you lean against the edge of the counter, holding the mug in your hands, waiting for the air to cool down the steaming beverage. “i think i’d be really okay with ending every single day of my life just like this,” you admit. if his eyes go wide or he recoils even the smallest percentage, you’ll blame it on the eventful day and the exhaustion that’s quickly overcoming you, but they don’t. his features soften, hand reaches across the counter to rub the back of your hand.
“me too,” he reciprocates. “you’ll have to stay over more often,” he doubles down.
“what?” you ask, taking a sip of your tea. you can feel the warmth hit your stomach. “have dinner ready for you when you come home and spend your nights off intertwined on the couch?” everything that you’re saying is getting closer and closer to practically asking to move in, but osamu doesn’t seem to mind.
“exactly that,” he murmurs, “you’ll have to see if you like my bed first, though, before you resign yourself to coming over every night.”
“every night?” you ask, cheeky smile the only form of teasing that you’re giving right now, “maybe we should go check it out then.” you take one more sip of your tea and then set the cup down on the counter. osamu doesn’t even do that, pulls you away from behind the counter and down the hall.
you climb into his bed, under his covers without asking or another mention. osamu joins you, climbing into the other side, and the two of you don’t waste a single second, curling up against each other, limbs lazily tangling, pressing up against one another as close as you possibly can.
“the first time we’re in a bed together and we’re not even having sex,” he says, softly, reaching over and turning off his bedside light. it takes a few moments for your eyes to get adjusted, to make out the shapes of his face in the dark.
“crazy, right?” you ask, smiling as you snuggling into his chest impossibly closer.
“i like this though,” he admits, traces his fingers up and down your arms, “just being in bed with you, falling asleep with you, means i get to wake up with you.”
you hum at his voice, soft and deep, and the darkness looks the same as it does with shut eyes, but you’re trying your best to not let the sleep take you that fast. “can you keep me awake?” you ask.
“you’re literally falling asleep as we speak,” he says, your eyelids fluttering shut as if to make a point. you shake your head, but you don’t say anything else. “why do you want me to keep you awake, babygirl?”
“cause i wanna be in this moment a little while longer,” you reason, breath taking over your voice as the darkness and warmth pull you into a comforting hug.
“we’ll have plenty of time for moments like this later,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “plenty of time, so go to sleep, angel.”
you’re not even embarrassed at how quickly you listen to him.
/\ /\ /\
if last night wasn’t enough to convince you that you were exactly where you needed to be for the rest of your life, waking up in osamu’s arms definitely was. they’re strong around you, wrapped tightly around your waist, nose nuzzled into the back of your neck, legs intertwined with yours.
you’re incredibly surprised that you’ve woken up first, but the second that you start to stir, osamu’s grip loosens, and his head peaks over your shoulder and he places a small kiss on your cheek. “mornin’,” he says, raspy as he talks off the sleep.
you turn in his arms, laying flat on your back so you can look at him directly. “good morning,” you say back, lifting your head to kiss him. “very good morning,” you say again.
“cute,” he murmurs against your lips, “stupidly cute.” you reach your arms up, draping them over his neck loosely to pull him down into you. “do you want breakfast or something?” he asks.
you shake your head, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “no,” you say, “well, maybe later? i think right now i just want, y’know, this.” you gesture with a small nod not really towards anything in particular, just to the situation.
he laughs, kissing the side of your face, “alright, this it is.”
you don’t say much else. nor does he. it’s all stolen kisses and roaming touches and silent exchanges. you don’t feel the need to talk, don’t have much to say, you’re communicating just fine without them.
every touch is getting needier, every kiss is getting longer, sloppier, more desperate, and the only thing that you’ve been able to think about for the last hour is all of the promises that have been made to you about after date things.
it doesn’t help that he’s on top of you now, tops of his thighs resting between your legs, hands on either side of your waist just looking at you like that. the first thing you say in over an hour is, “what, samu?”
he laughs, pushing his fingertips up your body, under the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and up until your entire stomach is exposed. “god, you’re so hot,” he says, grabbing onto your waist to pull you closer to him.
“samu,” you whine.
“what, doll? it’s true,” he says, pushing your shirt up even further now, tits on display so pretty that you can feel him begin to grow hard against your inner thigh. “so pretty,” he murmurs. he tugs your shirt off, tosses it to the side with no regard for the tidiness of his room anymore.
you’ve really never been this exposed before when you’ve had sex with osamu, always an article of clothes on, but now the only thing stopping you from being completely naked is the thin fabric of your panties and osamu’s fingers are already hooked in the waistband. you don’t protest as he drags them down your thighs, picks up your legs and rests them on his shoulder as he does.
he presses a kiss into the side of your leg, slowly drops them back around him. your stomach is in knots, can barely breathe with the way that he’s looking at you, eyes traveling down your body so slowly that you can see each point that they linger a second longer.
“fuck, you look good,” osamu says, leaning down to kiss your shoulders, your collarbones, your chest.
“shut up,” you murmur, fingers threading into his hair, scratching against the back of his head as he scrapes his teeth against your sensitive skin.
“no, i’m serious,” he says, leaning back, “you’re so fucking pretty, gorgeous actually.”
“ew, shut up,” you push him away jokingly, gently, “or i’m not going to let you fuck me unless we’re fully clothed ever again,” you joke.
he laughs against your neck, breath and vibrations tickling the wet skin. every single kiss feels personal, hand-crafted and perfectly thought of just for you. the placement is direct and purposeful and you can feel his love in every single one.
“god, i’m going to take my time with you,” he says, pulling away again. you can feel the blush blooming under your skin, warming up every inch of you, igniting fires in your stomach.
“first time that we have a lot of it,” you joke, coaxing him back up to your lips. “and first time that i don’t have to be situated on a sink or the floor.”
“so you’ll be perfectly comfortable,” he says, kisses trailing between your tits and down your stomach, “while i eat you all morning long.”
“samu,” you say, crook of your elbow rising up to your face to hide behind it. he reaches up, pulls it away from your face.
“don’t hide from me, doll, look so cute like that,” he says, laying between your thighs, pushing them open with familiar hands. you give in to the gentle pressure so easily that you swear you hear the faintest laugh coming from Osamu, but the light kisses peppering your thighs that follow gain your focus instantly.
it should feel agonizing, the way he takes his time dragging his lips across every part of the skin between your legs, kissing and biting lightly. but the longer he’s there the more laughter flutters through your chest, the more your cheeks flush, the more loved you feel. you bring your hands to his face as he rests his head against your knee cupping one under his jaw and using the other to push his hair back a little.
“make me feel so pretty, samu,” you mumble. he makes no attempt to answer, just holds your gaze with loving eyes as he brings himself to ghost near your already soaked pussy, the feeling his breath overwhelming any of your other senses.
“just want you to see yourself through my eyes, princess.” the end of his sentence comes with a long, slow swipe of his tongue against your hyper sensitive clit and it feels good to finally not worry about who can hear you.
you dig your head back into the pillow, hair already a mess after a perfectly restful night’s sleep. you can feel his eyes burning into you, even if you can’t see them, even if your focus is really anywhere but the agonizing feather-like touches between your legs.
it’s a shame, you think, but only for a moment, that his mouth is so busy that you can’t hear him call you pretty names or poke fun at you for whining so much. only for a moment.
if there’s one thing that osamu cannot be called it’s all-or-nothing. osamu doesn’t do all-or-nothing; he does slowly, consistently, comfortably, and then all. this is no exception. he runs his tongue between your puffy lips, smears your juices all over your sensitive pussy with the tip, and then he eats you- not like a man-starved, but like a man who he gets to indulge in his favorite dessert.
his fingertips are digging into the fat of your hips, palms pressing to keep you in place, to keep you from squirming, and it’s working. he lets you scratch your nails into his hair, down the back of his neck, resting on the tops of his shoulders. you don’t guide him, don’t buck your hips impatiently, you don’t need to. if he isn’t lapping exactly where you want him to, you know he will be soon, you know it’s deliberate, you know that he knows what’s best for you even if you have to wait for it.
you’re not sure you know how many times you come on his tongue, how many are attributed to just his tongue and how many are attributed to the noises that he’s making, the grunts that are coming from his throat, the mumbled praises that he’s whispering against your soaked folds, the squeaking of the mattress from the soft grinding that he’s doing against the blankets.
without a watch, you’d have claimed you were there for hours, all morning, just like he said. you’re not sure if he would’ve stopped either, if you hadn’t sat up on your forearm, somehow more out of breath than he was, and tugged on his hair. “samu, baby,” you whine.
you can’t help it, the even-more-breathless-breathlessness that hits you when he looks into your eyes, bottom of his face soaked with you, licks his lips, wipes the rest of it with his palm, and crawls slowly up to meet you. he kisses you hard, as hard as you’ll let him, and then he kisses you again, and then he kisses your cheek, and then your jaw, then your neck, mumbles against your skin, “what do you want now, bunny?” he’ll give you anything. “i’ll give you anything.” you know that he will.
the opportunities are endless. the world is your oyster. anything that you ask for, he will give you, and it will be wrapped with neat paper and a pretty bow with a handwritten note several miles long. you swallow, eyes searching his face for nothing in particular, just because he’s pretty and because he’s yours.
“i don’t think i have anything to ask for, because you’re already mine,” you whisper.
his face lights up, skin hot and flushed on the highs of his cheeks and traveling down his neck and chest. for a second it looks like he short-circuits, like you’ve broken him just by telling him the truth, and then, in a second, the world catches back up to him.
he shakes his head slowly and then you’re on top of him, sat with both legs on either sides of his, strong hands steadying you before you can even clock that you need to be steadied. “you’re really asking for it, huh?” he asks, and now you’re feeling warm.
“i- what are you talking about, samu,” you say, eyebrows furrowed. you can feel his hips- and yourself- lift off the bed as the fabric between the backs of your thighs and the tops of his is replaced with soft skin. you yelp softly as you’re lowered back down, hands on your inner thighs pushing you back just enough for his cock to rest between them.
you’re soaking wet, making a mess between your lips and on the insides of your legs and now all over his hard cock, slowly pushing through your pressed together thighs. he brings his hips off the bed, steady thrusts rocking the mattress ever so slightly, both his hands squeezing the outsides of your thighs. he clicks his tongue, “saying shit like that, angel, you know i’m not going to be able to help myself.”
“samu,” you repeat, breathless. “what ar-.”
he cuts you off, sliding his thumb from the tip of his cock to the base, his leaking head slipping between your messy lips until it’s teasing your hole. “sound so in love with me, baby, need to fucking feel you around me so fucking bad right now,” he breathes, sharp inhale punctuating his sentence as he pulls you by your hips until you’re fully seated on his cock.
you don’t know if the warmth is coming from the blush or touch of his skin or the desire that’s burning in your core, but it’s there, and before you can even fully register what he’s saying, he’s honest-to-god whimpering, spouting more lovey bullshit, “god, it’s like falling in love with you made you fit even more perfectly around me.” he lifts you slightly, fingers digging into your hips as he lets you slowly fall back down onto his cock.
he tilts his head into the pillow, but immediately picks it back up, locking eyes with you before letting his gaze fall down your body, like he can’t believe you really exist, like he can’t believe he let himself relax into a position where he couldn’t see you at all times, like he “can’t believe you’re fucking real,” he grunts, “and that you’re all fucking mine.”
“osamu, if you don’t knock it off,” you say. you’re only half-joking. you’re not sure that you could take him talking to you like this for much longer. you feel so full, every part of you feels so full. you slide your hands down his chest, palm against his rapidly beating heart acting as leverage as you start moving in time with him.
you close your eyes, partially to focus on the parts of you that are on fire right now, and partially so that you don’t have to keep looking at how much osamu is looking at you. he can’t keep his hands off of you, can’t keep his eyes off of you.
“can’t help it, pretty, not when i get to savor it like this,” he says, brings his chest up and wraps his arms around your back, holding you securely to him. he kisses the side of your face, whispers in your ear, “not when i finally get to fuck you in my bed and tell you that i love you and see you- all of you.”
“are you trying to make me cry or something?” you ask, placing both of your hands on either side of his face, forcing his attention on just your eyes and the hints of shyness strewn all over your face.
a slight smirk is followed by raised eyebrows and a tiny kiss to the temple. osamu flips you over, lying you gently on your back while you’re still fully encompassing him. “that can be arranged, puppy,” he says, kissing down your neck, nipping at your shoulders and chest. he slams his hips into you and you can’t help the pleasured, high-pitched moan that comes as a result. in fact, you can’t help the ones that come one after another after another as he keeps snapping his hips, insides of your thighs growing raw from the impact.
you’re babbling at this point, a symphony of half-finished words and tiny whimpers, and when a single tear breaks free of your blurred waterline, osamu can’t hold back. “fuck, holy fuck, babygirl, you sound so good, don’t stop, princess, keep making those cute fucking noises, fuck, sound so good.”
you shake your head no and hope that he understands what it means, that you won’t stop as long as he doesn’t. you’ll cry and scream and make cute little noises for him forever if he never pulls out of you.
you’ve always known that fucking in bathrooms has been disadvantageous, you just couldn’t pinpoint it, not when it always felt so good anyway. you never thought the space bothered you or the hard, cold various materials of sinks or the fact that people were often only a door away; you never thought any of that mattered until now, now when you can cry for him and feel the softness of the blankets beneath you and the plushness of the pillow behind your head.
“baby,” you cry, “i’m- you’re gonna- fuck, i love you so much. i’m-.” you throw your head back, you can’t finish your half-constructed sentence before osamu is fucking you faster, harder, wrapping an arm around your lower back and lifting you up the slightest bit to angle you perfectly. your hand moves on instinct, reaches down between your legs and circles your throbbing clit for only a second before you’re squirting all over him, a release of pressure drenching him as you gasp for air, drawing in enough breath to cry out his name.
you place your hand on his lower abs, eyes closing softly to center yourself. you could’ve passed out right here, slept for a million years, and you’re not sure you would’ve completely recovered. your body is shaking, throat is sore, and when you open your eyes, osamu is looking at you with such adoration and awe that you’re certain you’ve missed something.
“the first time we’re not in a fucking bathroom and you fucking make me squirt,” you mumble, shaking your head, “what are we going to do with you?” you ask, removing your hand from his stomach, silently letting him know you’ve recovered enough for him to keep going.
“i don’t care,” he says, kissing your jaw, “i don’t care what you do with me for the rest of my life, that was the most amazing thing i’ve ever seen.”
“you made a mess,” you tease.
“i made a mess?” he asks.
you nod.
he breathes a laugh before accepting responsibility, “i made a mess,” he confirms.
“so you’ve gotta do one thing for me,” you say, circling your hips, matching his lazy thrusts as you wrap your arms around his neck.
“anything,” he says. and you know that he means it.
you use your loose grip around his neck to coax him closer to you, your lips now pressed against his ear. “need you to make a mess inside of me, samu, please,” you say, low enough to send shivers down his spine from the tone alone. his hips stutter. he wants to regain composure, to not give in to blowing his load deep inside of you just from you saying his name and asking him nicely, he really wants to savor it and last a little bit longer.
but you’re so wet. you’re drenched, but you’re still so tight and sucking him in so nicely, perfectly sculpted for him, gummy walls still clenching and fluttering from your orgasm, and you kiss the skin right below his ear and you say, “please, i’ve been waiting for it ever since i fucking met you, please, don’t make me wait any longer.”
and he can’t.
he wouldn’t.
he doesn’t.
he snaps his hips forwards, pressing himself flush against the insides of your thighs and releases deep inside of you. you can feel his cock pulse with each stream, feel yourself getting fuller and fuller and fuller with each throb and accompanying grunt. you can’t get enough. you don’t want it to ever stop, but it does. he keeps himself deep inside of you for a moment, not wanting to lose the feeling just as much as you don’t.
when he starts to get soft, he pulls out, come dripping out of your hole and onto the blankets below just adding to the mess the two of you have created in the span of a few hours. he doesn’t exactly know where to go, what to do. the two of you could’ve passed out just like this, intertwined together and had the most incredible sleep of your entire life, if it weren’t for the huge mess beneath you.
“what now?” you mumble, not moving.
you feel osamu flop next to you. you’re not sure if he’s avoided the mess or if he’s embraced it. part of you wants to stand up and apologize and start throwing his bedspread in the washer, but that part of you isn’t winning, not today. if that part of osamu exists, it’s not winning either. he wraps his arms around your waist, rests his head on your chest, pulls you into him.
“are we just going to lay in this?” you say, laughing. it sounds ridiculous coming out of your mouth, but you’re sure it wouldn’t take much convincing for you to not have to move from this very spot. osamu doesn’t answer you, but you feel him unwrap from your body and then get off the bed. you go to sit up, but you don’t make it that far, opening your eyes as osamu pulls the blankets out from under you and throws them in a heap in the corner of his tidy room. he opens the closet door and comes back with a spare, small, but clean blanket.
he reassumes his position on the now-much-more-acceptable bed, throwing the blanket overtop of you and him and cuddling into your side. “is that better?” he asks, but he doesn’t really expect a response. your small smile and content hum is all he needs.
after only a few moments, recuperated by a clean blanket and strong arms, your body is ready to move onto the next thing, ready to get up and start making breakfast or start kissing him again or start getting ready for work despite how long you have until your shift. your skin is antsy, pulse is quickening. there are a trillion things in your head that you want to do with osamu, plenty of dull activities that seem like they’ll be much better with him by your side. you want to see them. you want to do them.
osamu shifts and pulls you into his chest, kisses the top of your head. “love you, angel,” he murmurs into your hair. “love you so much,” he says again. you feel calmer now, the most at ease you’ve ever been, because you know that there’ll be time for all of that, plenty of time, hours and hours of time to do all of the things that you want to do with osamu, more time than you know what to do with, you just know it.
for now, all you have to do is lay here, in bed, surrounded by warmth in more ways that you thought were possible, maybe let sleep take you again or stay awake in these passing moments, it doesn’t really matter. your exhale is steady, matches with his. you close your eyes and you can see this moment next week and next month and three years from now.
you look happy there.
you look really happy there.
taglist: @miyaluv127 @useless-bicth @mushasstuff @unstaaableaf @mimivinx @tsukiran @kurapika-1999 @hehatesmati @karmakarter @hunny-hotline @bella009888 @um-no-ok @footjib @mon-cherries @privthemis @agashki @renster05 @greeniegreengreen @tokyo-banana @fandomtrash5092 @coyloves @heathsuii @pasta-water @ran-rangasma @ayz-it-they @ellesalzar @dabibreeder @s4m1 @perry-gallifrey @barely-coherent @katsunarii @thisbicc @jaynawayna @levis-wheelchair @sugar-crumbs @miyaslvt @sheeshizzy @i0nlyr343mut @ajbutasimp @snazzyturtles @idontevenknowlolls @nicerthanu @angelgvtzzz @lovely-part-time-whore @lilac-ski3s @dovenu @heirxx @kur0obaby @tetsuswhore @alienvarmint @georgettesand @misfit-megumi @bijuu-naginata @captain-alien-america @ti-mame @buckys-hoeee @whos-curiosity-killed-the-cat @stargazing-girl @whoisgami @zany17 @privthemis @pennylanewrites @buckys-hoeee @avfox24 @reinertiddiejuice @poke-pia @its-simply-me19 @nahcho @sugamonster22 @destinyg237 @msbyomimi
♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡
tori talks more: i do not know if i'll be around to write more to be honest with you. like i probably will at some point, but who knows. maybe when the new movie comes out. maybe ill do a jjk pivot bc i just finished it. feel free to scream in my inbox abt it or this or whatever. ily all and im so glad i could finally finish this. <3 :)
#osamu x reader#osamu smut#hq smut#hq x reader#osamu x reader smut#hq x reader smut#haikyuu smut#haikyuu x reader#haiykuu x reader smut#miya osamu x reader smut#osamu x reader fluff#osamu fluff#osamu fic#hq fic#toriwritesshit#abd update!
299 notes
·
View notes
Text
Never Gonna Be Alone [part 1]
Summary: A collection of small moments that lead to falling in love with your roommate. This is a Modern Day!AU.
Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Reader
Word Count: ~1.5k
Author's Note: I've been writing two horribly depressing stories simultaneously for a while now and I needed a break from the angst. I hope that you all enjoy this.
Warnings for the entire series: language, drug & alcohol use, pining, fluff, possible angst, and possible sexual content. Plus, me attempting to be a comedian.
Playlist here!
She said, "he's kind of messy in every aspect of his life, but he's fun to be around!" Then, she very positively followed that up with, "I think you two would really get along!"
You met Helaena in college, and to be honest, you really didn't know her that well. She was a friend of a friend who had been in a few of the same classes as you, went to the same bars, and had a similar taste in art and music. She'd like every selfie, or ask to borrow a book you posted about, but you had never really hung out alone together.
So when your phone started ringing on a Friday night, after you were already three margaritas deep and swimming in queso dip at your cousin's birthday party, and it was Helaena Targaryen's name flashing across the screen, you were admittedly concerned; though, you'd always known her to be a pretty sincere person, so you took her word for it when she said that you should let her older brother move into the empty, second bedroom of your apartment. It might have been the tequila, or the fact that you were just that desperate, but you immediately agreed to her proposition without question.
You had been trying to rent the room out for months when it became impossible to afford the luxury of living alone, but every person that was interested happened to fall through for one reason or another. You had even offered a discounted rate (as the bedroom was smaller than yours and there was only one bathroom and it was a Jack-and-Jill), but you still couldn't find a good fit.
Enter Aegon Targaryen.
Suddenly, a guy whom you could only describe as 'that has to be Helaena's brother', was knocking on your door a week later. There was beat up Wrangler sitting on the curb behind him filled to the roof with cardboard boxes, and a tiny U-Haul hitched to the bumper with what little bit of furniture he had. He looked at you, blinked a few times and said, "I'm Aegon." You introduced yourself and he nodded; there were no pleasantries, no hand shakes or smiles. He just walked into your apartment, looked around, and then started moving his things in.
It was mid-July, so obviously there were better things you could be doing with your time than helping a complete stranger move his things into your home during a drought and a heat wave. Yet, you slid on your sandals and got to work after you had started to feel bad that you were sitting pretty in the air conditioning while your new roommate struggled in the humidity.
It didn't take long until the only thing left was his mattress. You weren't even sure how he got that monstrosity stuffed into the tiny trailer in the first place. It was ridiculously bulky and much heavier than it needed to be, but he swore that it was the most comfortable mattress you'd ever lay on in your life- a fact that you would just have to take his word for. You struggled, a lot, but put on a brave face as Aegon did most of the heavy lifting in the back and you navigated up front.
As you were coming up the porch steps with your sunglasses sliding off of your face as you dripped with sweat, and your arms tired from hours of heavy lifting (saving the heaviest for last, which was a terrible idea), you ended up missing the stoop completely and landing on your ankle awkwardly. You played it off until you had gotten the mattress onto his bed frame, and then silently cried about it in your now shared bathroom; quietly cursing the economy for forcing this situation upon you. Later that night as you were sitting on the couch, with your swollen ankle elevated on a couple of throw pillows, your new roommate tosses a bag of frozen peas in your lap and continues into his room with a bowl of cereal for dinner.
"Thanks," you called after him but only heard the sound of his bedroom door closing in reply.
Over the next few weeks you observed quite a bit about Aegon Targaryen. You knew which spoon was his favorite, how he preferred his tea, that he washed his hair with tea tree shampoo, and enjoyed mint chocolate chip ice cream. He cut the crust off of his sandwiches when he ate them at home, but when he packed his lunch he left them on. He could drink an entire box of wine by himself, but he typically stopped after two glasses, and he always asked if you wanted him to pour you one. He talked to his siblings a lot, but never his parents, and he really enjoyed watching dog videos on his phone while sitting on the couch as you tried to watch your show.
And when he laughed, he belly laughed, and you couldn't help but smile softly to yourself when he did.
Despite how taciturn he may have been, he was still good company, even if you were just sitting on opposite ends of the sofa doing your own thing. He always thanked you when you would leave leftovers in the fridge with a sticky note that had his name on it, and you started making sure that you made enough for two. When he came home late on the weekends, he tried his absolute hardest to do so quietly, but with those hardwood floors, it was almost impossible. He'd wake you up every single time, but you would never say anything. It was hardly an inconvenience after the many nights you'd fall asleep to the sound of him softly strumming his guitar in the next room.
And yet, you just couldn't help but wait for the other shoe to drop. Because it had to, right? Surely this would be a nightmare; God finally sending a punishment for your sins and giving him the face of a literal angel for shits and giggles. You weren't entirely convinced he wasn't Karma-In-Disguise, as the only other option was just too good to be true.
One morning you woke to find Aegon in the kitchen, standing at the counter, making himself a cup of tea. He had already brewed a pot of coffee for you and there was a box of assorted pastries sitting on the table, one of which he was holding between his teeth as he poured a splash of milk into his cup. He turned to you, leaning against the counter and took a bite out of his scone.
"What's this?" You quirked an eyebrow as you studied the scene.
"A 'thank you', I s'pose," he shrugged, voice deep with residual exhaustion. He scratched at the short stubble on his chin, almost nervously, "It's been like a month since I moved in here, and, to be honest, I wasn't really expecting you to let me stay longer than a week."
You laughed softly and took a few steps deeper into the kitchen, taking note of how comfortable the space was with his presence in it. You couldn't ignore the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him in this light; the way the soft, morning sun bounced off of his blonde hair like a halo. He stayed right where he was as you moved around him; his tired, blue eyes following as you grabbed your favorite mug and a spoon from the drawer.
"To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to want to stay," you mentioned as you stood next to him and added two scoops of sugar to your cup. Your eyes flickered up to meet his stare, which was so blue you might as well have been looking up at the sky itself. "We're basically strangers."
"I wouldn't say that," he shrugged, lips curling into a small smirk, and you had to stop looking at him before you spilled coffee all over yourself.
"Oh? What are we then?" You asked, feeling your cheeks warming slightly as you averted your gaze.
"Not strangers," you could hear the smirk in his tone; his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he took another bite of his pastry and pushed himself off the counter. "Besides," he added, taking a few steps towards the living room before glancing back at you. "A stranger wouldn't know your favorite bakery."
You laughed softly through your nose, realizing that your new roommate had just admitted to eavesdropping on your late-night FaceTime conversations with your best friend. Though, you were sure it was only because he didn't have a choice in the matter; the walls were paper-thin, after all. But, you remembered telling her just the day before yesterday how badly you were craving a chocolate croissant, but getting one was difficult because they were always sold out.
There were four chocolate croissants in that box.
"Fuck," you sighed.
#I know this isn't what y'all wanted but it's what ya got#aegon targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#aegon ii#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen x you#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen x you#aegon ii x reader#aegon ii x you#hotd#house of the dragon#modern aegon#modern!aegon targaryen#helaena targaryen
148 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
highgale
𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓.
litillfiskur
Herb Bride
aijalouise
willow words & ivy lines
muslimcumlover786
H-sissy turned Muslimah
yanderesimp2000
Cesspit of pure degneracy