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mactavishsgfandwife · 3 months

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141 When They’re Sick

bilingual privilege is using your second language to scribble down notes for your tumblr fanfiction in class with the reassurance that no one else will be able to understand what you’re writing 😋 pure fluff (not proofread)

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish

soap has such man flu vibes

i just know he will have a little cold from never dressing appropriately for the english weather (he thinks he can tough it out) (he can’t) and then lays on the sofa for a week, miserable and constantly pining for your attention

he loves a cup of tea when he’s sick but he also swears that irn bru has magic restorative qualities, and "that’s how i keep m’physique, bonnie"

Johnny groans, rubbing his face with his palm as he lays stretched out over the sofa, his feet resting on one arm and a hot water bottle flopped lazily over his stomach. For the most part, the grunts and sighs seem genuine, but you could swear that he makes sure to emphasise his suffering when you walk past, just to let you know what a big strong boy he’s being for dealing with his sore throat and slight headache.

"Head hurts…" he groans, holding a forearm over his eyes to shield them from the light.

"I know, honey… you want a paracetamol?" you pat his head, trying to hide your little, sympathetic laugh.

"Nah, only just had one… Y’could gimme a kiss, though," he grinned up at you, his tone lightening a little.

"Ew! Stop, I don’t want your germs," you laugh, pulling your hand away from his hair.

"Aww, c’mon… might make me feel better," Johnny teases, sitting up a little (he wasn’t really that weak in the first place) and holds your wrist so you can’t escape. When you see the stupid, irritating grin on his face, you know you don’t really care about germs. You just want to kiss him.

Captain John Price

price, when he’s feeling ill, likes to be looked after - the number one cure for ANY of this man’s problems is a warm bath

he loves it when you act like a little housewife for him, running him a warm bath and bringing him a constant stream of cups of tea - sometimes he’ll pretend to be sicker than he is for a little longer than he has to just for a day or two more of being doted on by you. not that you don’t do that anyways.

but he’s a menace when you try to go off shopping or to work - he lays a strong, hairy arm over you, mumbling something about being sick and needing you to stay

if you massage his back and shoulders when he’s feeling sick, he will be so happy. it takes a little longer than when he rubs your back because there’s just more of him, with his broad shoulders and muscular dad-bod (yum)

You have John laying on his front, on the bed, arms crossed under his head. His hair is damp, getting the bedsheets a little wet beneath him, and he has a soft white towel wrapped loosely around his hips - he smells strangely like lavender (he definitely used your shower gel instead of his because yours is nicer - you pretend not to notice, as your hands gently move up and down his sore back).

He’s managed to come down with a bad cold the day after an intense workout, so his body is totally exhausted and nothing really appeals to him other than laying down. Being as fit as he is, you wouldn’t expect him to be in such a state, but the man needs a break and it’s plain to see.

The soft light from the nice-smelling candles that you’ve lit on the bedside table plays in his wet hair, which you gently comb your fingers through.

"You been using my products again, hmm?" you grin with a gentle tone, leaning in closer to him.

"Sorry love…" he starts to respond, his voice a little hoarse.

"It’s okay," you laugh softly, nuzzling your face into his back as you lower yourself on top of him, like a weighted blanket. Your soft hands wrap gently around his scarred sides, as little sighs of contentment leave your mouth.

"What happened to my back rub?" he teases, feeling your body laying against him. Still, he doesn’t a muscle to stop you from cuddling up to him.

As you keep quiet, enjoying the warmth of his body, he chuckles and pulls himself into a more comfortable position below you.

"That’s alright, sweetheart…" he replies to your silence.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

simon would try to be an unphased tough guy but he’d have little moments of weakness

he’d insist that he’s not that sick while taking paracetamol and drinking tea constantly, pulling you close to him as often as he can and being clingier than usual (he’s always touchy, but he is particularly reliant on you now)

he’s in a terrible mood, but just resting his head on your shoulder or holding you while you work helps him… better yet, he loves it when you’re sitting on the sofa and working on your laptop, or watching a film, and he gets to lay down with his head in your lap - with your soft fingers occasionally brushing through his short hair

he’s a tough guy, but when it’s just you and him, he can just lay down with his girl without worrying about being ghost. he’s just simon - poorly simon, with his sweet girlfriend taking care of him.

Phone in your hand, you quietly text your friend about her crazy ex boyfriend and the dress that she’s going to wear out tonight - the red one or the other red one, with the different neckline? You look up to the doorway to see a tall, tired man walk into the sitting room - 6’4", dressed in an old grey hoodie and a pair of pyjama bottoms, ruffling his hair and looking utterly exhausted.

"Thought you were asleep, Si…"

"Can’t sleep," he mumbles gruffly, silently moving towards you and finding a spot to lay his head - right in your lap, his feet resting on the opposite arm of your big sofa.

Understanding his fatigue, you sigh softly and stroke his head as it lays against you. His skin is pale, showing his sickness, and his eyes look tired and dry. A little groan escapes his lips as he shuffles on the sofa, trying to make himself comfortable.

"Love you, darling…" he whispers softly, his eyes shutting in preparation to finally sleep.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

i feel like kyle’s love language is food

if you make that man a curry or a good spag bol, he will secretly be making plans to propose to you as he eats it

and that’s all the more true when he’s ill or tired out - some comfort food home cooked by you would mean the world

Gaz had a bad cold and had been hibernating in bed all day, mostly asleep but occasionally watching the football or texting Soap to complain about how sick he is. As you walked into the room, brandishing a bowl of spaghetti carbonara, his eyes lit up.

"Hey, what’s this?" he grins, his voice a little hoarse.

"Carbonara. For you," you chuckle, placing it down on his bedside table, "I have some work stuff to finish, I-"

"Y’could just stay with me instead. I’ve been locked up in here all day," he teases.

"You’ve been asleep all day! I really need to… well…"

"Come on, baby."

You struggle to hide the grin that’s creeping onto your face, not wanting to procrastinate your work any longer (this wasn’t the first time Kyle has stolen you away from typing up emails) but he got what he wanted when, a moment later, you were cuddled up to him. Wearing his tshirt and your underwear, with your head resting on his shoulder.

"Oh my God, this is so good!" he chuckles, eating, voice still strained from the sore throat. He’s mostly just happy to have you next to him (oh, as well as the pasta).

gaz is my babyyyyyyy i don’t think you guys get it 😣😣😣 this took an age and a half to write i hope it’s up to standard thanks for reading!! xx

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ashersanity · 3 months

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Something awfully ironic about owners and their pets, leathered collar tucked snugly around your neck, the material pressed against your skin serving as a cold reminder of their ownership over you. The smug smirk that graces their lips, quirked up just a bit, rhythmically tugging at your leash whenever they please to show off the pretty little thing that they’ve got. Control. Power. That’s what they want, wish to have over you, willingly letting them do however they please, familiar sensation of their palm ruffling your hair, praising you for being so good.

So very good, especially behind closed doors. No one gets to see the way they lovingly press kisses to the tip of your cock head, pink tongue darting out to hungrily slobber all over your length, drool dripping over the base. Who would’ve known? How the so-called refined, well-mannered owner is at your feet instead, servicing you on their knees and needily sucking on your balls like a whore does. Faint string of saliva left on your tip as they finally part from your cock to claim their prize. Hot, shaky breaths ghosting over your shoulder, slender fingers, the same ones they used to clip that collar, invitingly spreading their slicked, wet hole apart for you to sink into. Wouldn’t want to keep their cute pet waiting for their well-earned reward, would they?

— “F-Fuck..! Just like that, mmmh— Keep going, pup..”

That same voice that coldly commands you, now turned into broken moans, desperately clawing at the muscles on your back in attempt to steady themselves as you rut into them like some rabid animal in heat, stuffing them full. Well, it wouldn’t exactly be far from the truth either, conditioning you to their every whim and touches left over your body, visible outline of your hardening cock underneath the fabric of your pants.

The smacking of your balls meeting their now stretched, wide open hole, grown puffy and sore from the slam of your hips and oh, how their velvety insides tighten around you, taking your fat cock so well. Reducing them to this blubbering mess, your beautiful owner, falling apart on your cock, just the brush of your tip hitting their sweet spot is enough to have them cumming and calling out your name like a slut. How depraved can one be? What would the others think of them? Hushed, discreet murmurs shared among each other, about the dignified master’s pornographic moans in the dead middle of the night, echoing and heard through the private chambers, caused by none other than you.

But fuck, as you lazily slip out of them at long last, feeling so very empty once more from the absence of your cock filling them up to the brim. Thick, white cum dripping between the length of their thighs, splattered across their pristine skin. Glazed over eyes gazing up to meet your own, hand reaching up to affectionately trace along your cheek.

Yes. That’s right, they think to themselves. Their perfect pet. So fucking perfect. They wouldn’t have it any other way.

remy, avery, briar, zhongli?, kamisato ayato?, geto suguru?, raiden shogun?, neuvillette?, your favorites, i suffer from amnesia as to who else there is on that list.

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moonlightspencie · 7 months

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Everything Goes Wrong

Description: A few bouts of bad luck aren’t all that bad.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader

Warnings: none. this is straight fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

The case had been a hard one, especially in the dead of winter in North Dakota. Not only had we been working tirelessly for a week and a half, but the cold had pretty much knocked me on my ass. I was sure I could say the same for the rest of the team, too. We were groggy and exhausted by the end of it.

Not to mention, we were all a little irritable with the fact that the hotel had screwed up our sleeping arrangements, leaving many of us pairing up in rooms that didn’t exactly accommodate two people.

I didn’t exactly pull the short end of the stick, getting paired up with Hotch this time around, but we definitely all were over having roommates. I needed alone time desperately a few times over the course of the time we spent, and never got it. I couldn’t have been the best person to room with considering how snappy I could get.

Then, right as we thought we were going home, plans changed again.

“You’re kidding,” Derek said as we stepped out of the local precinct.

We looked around at the snow pouring out of the sky. We could hardly see a few feet ahead of us.

“How are we supposed to get home in this?” Emily asked, groaning. “I hate the winter.”

Hotch let out a harsh breath. “Let’s try to get back the hotel, at least. I’ll call and see if we can take off, but don’t pack up yet.”

We were a chorus of annoyance as we trudged to the SUVs. It was a hard drive back, and I was more than thankful I wasn’t the one trying to drive in this. Our five minute drive to the hotel took thirty. The roads were a mess, and visibility only got worse as the minutes ticked by. It was a miracle we made it back at all.

Though, as expected, halfway through the ride Hotch got word that we would be staying the night again. Nobody took that news real well.

I sighed as I stretched out on the mattress almost an hour later. It felt more than good to finally rest after a full day on my feet. I couldn’t wait until it was my turn in the shower. I could practically feel the hot water soothing my sore muscles already.

Suddenly, silence fell over the room. It was already quiet, save for the sound of running water, but now… Something was off. Literally turned off.

I stood up, walking towards the heater with hopes that this wasn’t what was wrong. I should have known better. As my hand reached out to feel the warm air rushing out, there was nothing. I sighed heavily, retreating back to the bed to take a seat once more.

It was several minutes until Hotch was walking out of the bathroom, a towel around his shoulders, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. At least he looked comfortable before I had to deliver the news.

He took one look at me and knew something had happened.

“What is it?” he asked, voice exasperated.

I gave half a smile, nodding towards the heater in the room.

“I think we might be sleeping without heat.”

He furrowed his brow, doing the same thing I’d just done. He groaned quietly when he, too, felt no warm air against his hand. He mumbled something about calling the front desk, but judging by his facial expressions alone, there wasn’t much they could do about it at the moment.

He hung up the phone, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. First we don’t have enough rooms and you have to get stuck with me, and now this. This is ridiculous,” he huffed a sigh, looking around the room.

“It’s alright. You didn’t choose this place, and you certainly didn’t make, well,” I paused, gesturing around vaguely, “all of this happen.”

He shrugged, reaching up to rustle his wet hair with the towel around his shoulders as he stepped past me. I stood for a moment, just watching as he sat on the edge of the mattress. Then, I decided now was as good a time as ever for a hot shower, in hopes that the water would still be warm.

It was.

I got out of the bathroom almost an hour later to find Hotch already asleep in bed. For him to immediately hit the hay proved that we’d worked too hard on the case. I snuck into bed next to him after shutting out the remaining lights, curling into the comforter for some warmth. The cold seeping into the room from the broken heater was getting a little bit noticeable, but luckily for me, he definitely ran hot. I realized it the second the warmth under the blankets hit me. I effectively passed out within a few minutes.

The next morning was especially warm as I woke before my alarm went off. The heater must’ve kicked back on sometime in the night. I went to stretch, but found it much more difficult to do than I had anticipated.

I looked down to see Hotch curled up against me, and my eyes immediately widened. I swallowed a lump in my throat that formed quickly. I certainly hadn’t been expecting to see him like this, with a strong arm holding me to him. It was… attractive?

It would be a lie to say I’d never noticed him before. Who couldn’t? Even if he somehow didn’t catch an eye the second he walked into a room, he just had an aura around him. Some kind of presence that could pull a person in before they knew what was happening.

But, now, in the same bed with his arm draped over my stomach and his breath against my neck… This was a whole new feeling.

It was butterflies and warm cheeks and— something that I probably shouldn’t feel while next to my boss. But, then again, he definitely shouldn’t be cuddling with a subordinate. We were both a little guilty.

He shifted in his sleep, his arm around me moving a bit until his fingers were just under the hem of my shirt. Cuddling was one thing, but if I felt his hand on much more of my stomach, I felt I might combust.

“Hotch,” I whispered.

He didn’t budge.

“Hotch,” I said, a little louder this time. “Hey.”

He shifted again, this time squeezing his eyes together a little harder.

“Time to wake up,” I said, my hand on his arm.

His eyes slowly opened, though they suddenly snapped open when he realized where he was. He pushed himself off of me, quickly glancing over me to confirm he really was doing what he thought he was.

“I’m sorry,” he rushed out.

“It’s alright. It was cold last night,” I said quickly, trying to soothe the nerves that were obviously eating at him. “At least it warmed up this morning.”

He shook his head as he stood from the bed, running a hand through his hair quickly. I swallowed, knowing he felt like he crossed a line.

“I really don’t mind,” I tried again.

“We should be downstairs soon,” he replied, glossing over my attempts. “I’ll be out soon.”

He walked into the bathroom without much of a glance in my direction. I huffed out a breath, quickly getting dressed before I heard the water in the sink stop. He opened the door right as I sat on the edge of the mattress again, hardly catching my eye as he did.

“Hotch,” I called, determined to get his attention.

He hummed in response, immediately ruffling through his bag as if there was something he was actually looking for. I stood, taking a few steps in his direction.

“Can you at least listen to me?”

I watched as his shoulders dropped with the breath he let out. He straightened, turning to face me.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, not meeting my eyes again.

“I’ve already told you it’s fine. You really need to take my word for it.”

“I was practically on top of you,” he said, looking at me at last.

Unfortunately, he finally looked right as my cheeks were heating up a tad. I didn’t expect that innocent of a phrase to have any effect on me, but apparently my brain had other ideas.

“You didn’t mean to. It was freezing last night, and we were kind of forced to share a bed.”

He was quiet again.

I continued, “Besides, when have I been the type to hide my emotions that well? If I was upset you would’ve known immediately. Honestly, you were keeping me warm.”

He cracked a small smile, though he tried to hide it.

“I promise I was okay with it. Really.”

He nodded. “Alright. Just— Don’t report me to HR.”

I laughed. “Deal.”

Half an hour later, the team was waiting in the lobby of the hotel for news on our travel arrangements. Hotch and Morgan had gone off to figure it all out, leaving the rest of us to sip on coffee and watch the blizzard outside.

“Well, technically, the blizzard ended 4 hours ago. Now, it’s really just a heavy snow,” Reid stated, hardly glancing away from the magazine in his hands.

Prentiss rolled her eyes, looking towards me for some kind of understanding. I smiled at her, sipping at my coffee. We heard voices soon thereafter coming towards our small group. Hotch and Morgan walked up, chatting quietly.

“We should be able to take off within the next few hours,” Hotch stated, glancing around at us. “I’ll be getting a call when they’re ready. Until then, let’s get lunch and make sure we’re packed up and ready to go.”

“Eating on the company dollar?” I asked with a smirk.

He looked at me, a small smile on his face and… a bit of a blush on his cheeks?

“Yes. So, make sure you all decide on someplace good.”

Now, when I looked back at Prentiss, she was the one with a smile on her face. One that wasn’t sympathetic in the slightest. I knew what was happening in that head of hers from the twinkle in her eye alone.

I started walking towards the elevator, knowing she’d follow me, but still hopeful that maybe she’d leave it be. My former assumption was correct.

She caught up just as the doors started shutting, crossing her arms as she stood next to me.

“So,” she started.

“So?”

“What was that?”

I sighed. “What was what?”

She quirked a brow when I looked at her. I shook my head, looking away again.

“You know what. I’ve got to say, I never expected to see Hotch blushing. What did you do to him?”

I chuckled. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh? Who did?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I asked, stepped forward as the doors of the elevator opened on our floor.

I hoped that line would shut her up for the time being, but that was once again wishful thinking. She practically chased me down the hall.

“You’re not getting away that easy.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “Nothing actually happened.”

“He was smiling. And blushing.”

“You ever think it’s just because I’m charming?”

“No.”

I made a sour face, finally reaching my door. She raised a brow, giving me a proud smirk.

“I’ll find out, you know?”

“You’re sure about that?”

She shrugged. “Pretty sure.”

“Sure about what?” Hotch asked, walking up on us.

I looked away quickly, hoping to catch Emily’s eye before she said something she shouldn’t. Luckily for me, she got some sense in her head at the last second.

“Nothing. Just can’t pass up an opportunity to tease her.”

He raised a brow. “Right. Well, pack up. Sooner we’re done here, the sooner we can eat.”

She nodded once, sending me a quick wink before she turned and walked towards her own door. I finally unlocked the door, walking inside with Hotch hot on my heels. We silently packed the rest of our things, though neither of us had really unpacked all that much to begin with. He finished first, standing near the door to wait for me rather than leaving for the lobby. I glanced over my shoulder as I put my toiletries bag in the suitcase.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Just about.”

He hummed. “Prentiss was bothering you, huh?”

“When isn’t she?”

“What about?”

I shrugged. “I don’t even really know.”

He chuckled as I turned around. “You’re not a great liar.”

Maybe I liked him better when he was being shy about being all over me. He seemed a little too self confident now.

“Says you,” I replied with raised brows.

We made it to lunch in one piece, deciding that even though the roads were mostly cleared now, we’d stick close by.

Prentiss nudged me a few times during lunch, trying to get information out of me, but I refused. Though, it certainly didn’t help that I found myself looking at Hotch much more often than I usually would.

Maybe I’d had a small crush on him before, but now my brain wouldn’t stop reminding me of it. Every time he laughed or talked or moved or breathed. He was stuck in my head. It was ridiculous.

Embarrassment really came when I looked at him again only to find him looking at me. He quirked a brow as my eyes widened a bit at being caught.

Emily definitely caught that interaction.

I shook my head at her as she teased me, definitely noticing the self-satisfied smirk Hotch tried to hide at the interaction. He knew. Bastard.

We started the leave the restaurant when we got the okay from our pilot, but I didn’t get far before I felt a hand on my arm keeping me behind the others. I turned.

“I’d like to see you in my office when we get back,” he said with a quirked brow.

“What about?”

“We’re not sharing a room anymore, I need somewhere where I can speak to you in private.”

“You going to try to cuddle me again if I agree to be alone with you?”

“Not yet,” he replied, a smile barely there on his face. “Maybe next time. We’ll have to see how that talk goes when we’re home.”

I nodded, hiding a smile of my own. “Deal.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner fluff #gender neutral reader

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jiminiecrickets · 6 months

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LOVE'S LITTLE DAGGER: PART II. KTH / M!READER

summary. taehyung still hates you. he does. but you make him feel deeper things, and it's not just because you're buried up in his lungs.

wc. 4.8k

tags. smut | sub bottom!tae, dom top!reader, playboy tae, jealousy, mention of fwb!jimin, reader cockblocks tae once lol, alcohol mention, unprotected sex, 69, degradation: whore, slut (tae receiving), brat taming, rimming + ass eating, overstimulation + multiple orgasms, one mention of "daddy" (r. receiving)

[ part one ] [ requested ]

on the evening before the ultimate freeze of the universe, where even doomsday preppers have little power in a crumbled society, kim taehyung would remain a massive fucking dick.

this, like the inevitable heat death of everything everywhere all at once, remains a steadfast fact. his natural charisma – which you can't deny – would make him a leader in this hypothetical end-of-times, and you'd bet real money that he'd manage to swindle someone with a bunker out of it. then, of course, he'd kick them all out to feel existence die on their skin and hold his nintendo switch above his face as he lounges on a mattress.

welcome... to the check-in counter for your deserted island getaway package!

"taehyung! did you finish the milk again?"

"hm," he mumbles noncommittedly. he tucks his feet up against the couch armrest, squinting up at his switch.

you close the fridge with a huff and roll your eyes, disappearing into your bedroom. when you return, you're wearing a jacket, your phone and wallet clutched in one hand as you hop into a pair of shoes. you bee-line towards the couch and snatch his game away, turning it off and setting it on the coffee table next to him. he groans, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"stop complaining. you have class in two hours and you're wearing nothing but your underwear. i'm helping."

he scowls. "i'm not going today. i would be fine if someone didn't fuck me into next sunday!" he hears you walking away, and he raises his voice. "i hate you so much!"

"just put a shirt on," you call, one foot propping open the front door as you pat your pockets for everything you need. "you better be clothed by the time i return. you don't want to be running when you're sore, do you?"

"i hate you!"

"mhm, be back in fifteen."

the door swings shut with a click and he scoffs, glancing at the blinking screen of his game. he folds his arms over his chest and stretches his legs out, smoothing out his black briefs, and pouts to himself.

what a jerk. so callous. fine – if you were going to ignore everything that happened the night before, so would he. and, because he's very good at everything he does, he's going to beat you at it! he's going to ignore you so well and forget all about how you made him feel and find another guy who's willing to take him to bed. given his looks, he doubts he'll have to go far.

game on.

—

there's a boy on your lap. he's pretty – real pretty, with plump glossy lips and long sugar-brown hair styled in soft waves back from his forehead. he's playful, grinding and swaying his hips over your lap while his friends cheer him on. some of the guys from the beer pong table have stopped to watch.

taehyung simmers hotly in the corner of the room, scowling into his red cup. he nurses his drink, which is slowly fizzling flat and warm – he'd snooped around in the mini-fridge of the upstairs games room and found an unopened bottle of solo, which he promptly cracked open and hoped no one would notice. it feels better to carry around than a cold, wet can of cheap beer.

but god, did he wish he drank something alcoholic. maybe it'd take the sting out of the scene in front of him.

taehyung knows the boy in your lap. he's seen him sleeping peacefully in your bed when he passes by your cracked-open door in the mornings, and rumour has it that he's trying for something more than casual with you. the sight of your hands on his hips, reciprocating his touches, makes his stomach curdle like milk.

but who wouldn't want to be with you? you're smart, and handsome, and you remember people's favourite meals and make it for them when they're having a bad day. a bitter taste fills taehyung's mouth and he can't stand the taste of lemonade any longer.

he tips out the rest of his drink and tosses the cup into the bin, schooling his features into simple, shallow flirtatiousness, leaning against the beer pong table with an arch of his back that shortens his already-cropped jacket and accentuates his ass. he glances aside, meeting the eyes of the blandly-attractive guy currently winning the game, and smirks, bringing his lower lip between his teeth as he turns back to the cups of beer, playing coy.

the guy's mates whisper in his ears, glancing at taehyung with glimmering eyes. he elbows one of them in the stomach at something he says and the guy doubles over with laughter.

taehyung remains pleasantly oblivious to what they're saying and watches the ping pong ball bounce, its tap light and clear through the constant chatter and loud music. he smiles as it bounces neatly into a cup and he slips his fingers around the one closest to him, since the other team look to be in no position to be drinking any more than they already have. half of their team are blacked out on the ground.

a body sidles up to him. "hey."

his fingertip glides around the rim of his cup. his gaze flickers up; he tucks his lower lip between his teeth to hide a smile. "hey, yourself."

by the couch, jimin sits in the bowl of your lap, a fan of cards in his hands. he giggles softly as your arms shift around his waist and your chin rests on his shoulder. he tucks the fan of cards into his chest. "you're not allowed to look, hyung."

"can't i?" you hum into his shoulder. "i thought we were on the same team."

"i can't trust anyone but myself. you're probably double-teaming with jungkook." he inclines his head towards the younger man, who's sprawled upside-down on the couch with his feet hanging over the backrest.

you scoff, hands absently smoothing over his thighs before snaking around him again. "he doesn't need my help. if i were to double-team with anyone, i'd probably go with namjoon-hyung. he'd make sure we'd win. i'd just be his cheerleader. minimum effort to emerge victorious."

jimin hums, lowering his cards. he smells sweet, yet smoky. he tucks his lips into your neck and you feel them curve into a sneaky smile. "i think double-teaming would be fun, baby..."

you chuckle. "of course you would. hey, look sharp – you're still playing this game. it's almost your turn."

when taehyung sees him lean in, whispering against your skin and looking far too cosy for his liking, his stomach churns. he scoffs quietly and glides his fingers down his plaything's bare arm, slim and soft in an elven sort of way – the way rich boys tend to be, having never done a hard day's work in their lives.

he's nothing like you – he's entitled, pretentious, grabbing and pushing his body around as if he owns it. still, taehyung leans into his shoulder, glaring daggers into the side of your head until it tingles down your spine and you glance over.

when you do, he doesn't divert his eyes, doesn't curl his upper lip. he just levels his gaze, lifting another red cup of beer with a pinky raised in a mocking toast, and turns away, dragging his plaything along behind him by the wrist.

he refuses to give him any sort of affection, any pretence of gentleness. all he wants is a body above his and a high, no matter how dry and bland it'll be. anything to take his mind off of the unfamiliar and unwanted twist in his gut.

he finds an empty bedroom quickly – it's almost as if he's developed a sixth sense for them. he sets the cup of untouched alcohol on a chest of drawers and easily rolls into routine with the guy he'd stolen from the beer pong table – shirts off, shoes off, thoughts off.

the guy leans down to kiss him – he turns his head, letting his lips fall on the corner of his mouth instead. taehyung's down to his briefs, laying still on his back as the vaguely-familiar young man above him grinds against his ass, mostly dressed except for his shirt.

at least one of them is excited. he didn't even bother taking off his jeans – just unzipped his fly.

with a creak, the door opens, and yellow hallway light floods the room. taehyung doesn't lift his gaze from the dark corner of the room, examining the branches of a crack in the plain wallpaper.

"hey! what the fuck, man? room's taken, can't you see?"

"get off of him."

"what?"

"i said: get off of him, asshole. he's drunk – can't you see?"

stubbornly, taehyung shuts his eyes as he feels the body on top of him stumble, leaving him entirely. his skin prickles with the chill.

"he literally dragged me here, what's your damn problem? don't you hate this guy? look, man, just leave right now and i'll forget this ever happened, alright?"

"put your clothes on. he's going home."

evidently, he doesn't think taehyung's worth any more arguing, and he mutters as he picks his clothes up off of the floor and shuffles away. he doesn't close the door behind him, so you do it instead. the lock clicks. when you turn back around, you nearly jump out of your skin – taehyung stands upright three feet away, staring silently up at you.

"fucking – don't do that," you scold, taking his arm and sitting him down on the edge of the bed. he watches with furrowed brows as you move across the room, folding his clothes over your arm. you even grab his shoes for him, dropping them by his feet.

"arms out," you instruct, holding out his jacket. you're not going to even attempt his shirt – it has more buckles and straps than you can count and he'd be pissed if you managed to ruin it.

he just stares up at you, utterly confused.

"lift your arms, taehyung," you repeat, gently sliding his hands through the sleeves. he lets you, staring at the side of your face.

"okay. time to get your pants on."

his lips part. "i'm not drunk."

"mhm. stand up."

"no, really," he protests, grabbing your wrists before you can tug him to his feet. "i haven't had a sip tonight."

you glance at him. "you were holding a beer. you looked like you were drinking from it."

"i was just holding it." he shrugs. "i don't like beer – it tastes disgusting."

"oh." you lean back. "so... why'd you let me kick that guy out?"

he smiles wryly. "i wanted to see what'd happen."

"uh-huh. well, i can call him back, if you want."

his hand shoots out to grab your sleeve. "no," he says quickly. "i don't want him."

"no?"

"no." his grip loosens and he glances away, fisting the bedsheets below him. "sorry for scaring you. you can go back to jaemin, or whatever his name is. i'll get home fine on my own."

"jimin," you correct. your brows furrow. "wait... taehyung, are you jealous?"

"fucking no," he snaps, far too quickly.

a grin grows on your features. a glint returns to your eye as you place your hands on your hips. "holy fucking shit. you are. kim fucking taehyung is jealous over me." you bark out a laugh, turning away to amuse yourself with a bunch of skincare pots and tubes on the dresser nearby. "my dick that good, huh?"

his face burns. "shut the fuck up! it was average, at best. having a big cock doesn't mean you know how to use it."

you toss a pot of moisturiser in the air, catching it before placing it back. you saunter over to taehyung, whose arms are crossed over his chest petulantly. you lean down to his level. "and who was the one screaming for more, hm? you really think i believe it when you say i was just some average lay?"

he shoots to his feet and jabs you in the chest. "you were," he snarls. "i was being gracious. your technique's sloppy and it's like you'd never touched a guy before. you're lucky i was so pent-up – that's the only reason i finished at all."

your smirk widens and your gaze flickers over his body. his hair pricks on end with a shiver. you lean in, not quite touching him – as if there's an invisible layer separating you from him, a glass case for the piece of art. your breath is hot against the shell of his ear.

"really? so if i was to, say, start taking off my clothes... you wouldn't be interested?"

his breath hitches. he says nothing.

"is that a no, sweet thing?"

"no," he breathes. "it's not."

you lean back and your lips turn up. his body yearns for your warmth, goosebumps shivering over his skin. "don't worry, taehyung. i didn't expect an answer – you take an awful long time to do things, and it really shows when you're getting second place on the class leaderboard."

his head snaps towards you. he grabs your shirt and yanks you onto the bed, throwing a leg over your lap. his brows are furrowed, his mouth tight. "bringing our scores into this?" he hisses. "low fucking blow, ln. fine – i'll show you slow."

he pushes your shirt up over your stomach, scraping his nails over your hips as he loosens your belt and unzips your fly. you prop yourself onto your elbows to watch with a smirk as he takes you out of your pants, stroking and squeezing with reverence that he tries to hide.

it doesn't work very well. you can see the way he stares at it as it hardens in his palm, his gaze heavy and wanting with a flush to his cheeks. he kisses the tip, suckling on it as he dips his tongue into the slit, and groans softly as he trails his wet tongue down the underside along the veins, fisting it and swiping his thumb over the tip as he takes your balls into his mouth, one at a time.

you curse and tangle your hand in his hair. his mouth is hot and wet, his breath warm as he pants against the base of your cock, staring up at you with smoky eyes and ruby lips. he sucks softly, dragging his tongue along the velvety skin, and closes his eyes as you groan his name. he hums softly in acknowledgement, moving back to your cockhead. he lavishes his attention upon it, lapping at it and sucking gently on just the first few inches – he teases the rest, pumping it and twisting his wrist expertly.

you chuckle as he moans, his hips swaying in the air. you toss off your shirt. "you're enjoying this a little too much. fuckin' whore, getting off to this..."

he moans again, sharper this time. he doesn't even dispute it. he chokes down a few inches of your cock and your head falls back as his tight throat pulses around you.

it's almost funny how quickly he's abandoned the idea of teasing you. no more slow jerks of his wrist, no more kitten licks – he's fucking gulping you down, moaning quietly as saliva drips down his knuckles.

shit. you suck in a breath through your teeth. he's really fucking good at taking you. it's like magic, watching the inches disappear down his warm throat.

he only begins to slow down when he reaches the base of your cock, his fingers pumping it shallowly. his jaw is stretched wide around you, the vibrations of his moans through your cock sinful – his tight throat strokes you, closing around you, and he doesn't seem to care that he's gagging on it, bobbing his head to a quick, steady beat. he thrusts against air.

you lick your lips, finding your voice. when it comes out, it's raspy – hungrier than you want it to be. "fuck, sweetheart – c'mere. wanna taste you, too."

he pops off with a slick sound, panting against your shaft. his lips shine with saliva. he grins, breathless, and shimmies out of his tight briefs – he groans in relief when he frees his cock, wet and throbbing. he clambers on top of you, the air hot and thick – all attempts at smooth seduction are forgotten. he's messy, hungry, and so, so human.

you grin as he arches his back, his knees beside your head. from the way he's holding his hips, you can tell he expects you to give his cock a little love – but you like to subvert expectations, and instead, you grab his slim hips and drag his ass towards your face.

he startles, arching to glance back at you. you grin, eyes glinting, and lick a long stripe over his asshole.

his hips jerk. he moans, turning back to your cock, and kisses the tip with soft warm lips, precum beading at the slit.

you hum, fingers digging into the supple flesh of his ass. two of your fingers slip easily into him – either he's been playing with himself, or his body is still recuperating from your extensive loving the night before. either way, he moans loudly around your cock, rocking his hips down onto your fingers.

"pretty," you muse, watching the way he clenches around your fingers. "arch your back a little more, slut."

he gasps as your tongue laps at his rim. "f-fuck – eat me out properly, damn it! if you're gonna talk big game, you – mngh—!"

you can't reply because you've got your tongue in his ass. you'd smile at the absurdity of it all if you could – the boy you've been butting heads with all year sounds much better crying out for you.

you don't even know why he's being a little jealous baby. he could've just asked – there is no universe in which you'd turn down fucking kim taehyung.

but he's stubborn and a cocky sonovabitch. you can't say that it's not a little cute: angry pretty boys standing their ground, firm in their beliefs until they get so flustered they forget what their next argument is.

and kim taehyung is flustered. he's whining into your thigh, gripping your hip so tightly you think he's drawing blood. he rocks his hips onto your tongue, his ass clenching around it, and buries his hot face into your hip, panting and swearing his pretty little head off as his cock spurts and pulses hotly, overexcited.

arousal curls in your stomach as he drags your cock against his lips, sinking down on it to muffle his own moans. you buck your hips into his mouth and while he gags, he lowers himself further, one shaky hand cupping your balls, and bobs his head desperately, silky lips dragging against the veins of your cock. he swallows you deeper as your cock pulses and twitches against the tight walls of his throat.

you come without warning. serves him right, the attention whore, but he doesn't seem to mind – in fact, he seems to like it, moaning and whining around your cock as he struggles to keep it all in. he fails eventually, hot cum dripping down the corner of his lips as he glides off your cock with a wet kiss. his cock twitches, already wanting more.

you tease him, dragging out his orgasm as he grinds into your face. the warm weight of his body grows as he slumps onto you and you can't be annoyed at the fact that he's only loosely gripping your cock, too busy basking in his own afterglow. his breath is warm and quick against it.

you draw away, shifting under him as you guide him into your lap. he shivers, still a little dazed, but manages to find your hand in the tangle of limbs. he entwines his fingers with yours, his pounding heart fluttering in his chest.

he presses his lips to your neck, pushing you down against the bed – to your surprise, he tugs off your pants and underwear entirely, leaving you just as naked as he.

"was bothering me," he rasps, kissing your cock. he crawls up your body again, hovering over you face-to-face. "eat me out again."

"mh, would love to. just tell me when you wanna." you stroke his sides.

he tilts his head, those dark eyes clearing of their fog. "no, i'm not talking about a few days in the future or whatever. i'm talking now. i want your tongue in me right fucking now, baby – want you to make me come again with that silver tongue of yours." he grazes your lower lip with the pad of his thumb. "i like it better like this than down his throat."

you snicker, flipping your bodies over and hovering over him instead. you've done it in a way where he's on his stomach. "jealous bitch, aren't you?"

"says the one who calls me 'puppy'," he growls, eyes flashing. he leans into the pillows, his eyes challenging, and he spreads his legs, placing one hand high on his ass as he lifts his hips. "now stop yapping and fuck me, ln."

"sir, yes, sir," you tease. he feels your presence drift lower until your hands spread his ass.

at first, he entertains some degree of control, fucking himself back on your tongue as you groan into his skin, pulling his hips closer. he enjoys a second high, untouched, but you've grown curious. how many times can you make the infamous playboy come?

the answer: a lot. you just can't expect him to keep his wits about him after a few.

he's been on his knees for so long that they're beginning to hurt, even on the mattress. the discomfort, however, is far outweighed by your ravenous hunger – he can't stop crying out for you, your tongue and fingers working in tandem to fuck him stupid. you'd even started to pump his cock for him – he'd almost cried, throwing his head back with a whiny babble.

more, more, more. he'd begged for it – he knew this, somewhere at the back of his mind. he'd heard his own voice, usually so strong and steady, reduced to a crumbling whimper, collapsing in on itself as you pumped three fingers in and out of his wet hole, messy with lube and saliva.

you'd never seen him like this before. you never thought he could get like this – teary-eyed, flushed dark pink from head to toe, gaze faraway and hazy, focussed on nothing in particular even when you muse aloud about his latest academic losses. all he does is whine, trembling, and reach back blindly for your cock, groping and grabbing.

he pants over his shoulder. his red hair is coppery where it sticks to his skin, shining with a thin layer of sweat.

"please," he begs, grinding messily against your cock. "p-please, please..."

taehyung is gorgeous when he lets go. when your cock glides in with no resistance, his walls soft and hot around you, his eyes roll back into his skull, and he lets out a soft, thankful sob. his chest heaves as you push in deeper, testing how much he can take, and all he does is grab your hip, nails clawing at it as if he'd die otherwise.

his hole is sloppy with lube. you press your nose to his collarbone, groaning softly as he clamps around you.

his fingers dig into the white bedsheets, his eyes screwed shut as he focuses on remembering how to breathe. your cock grinds against his swollen prostate and he keens – his voice cracks as he whines into the pillows. you hush him, your hips moving quickly.

"daddy," he sobs, and by his tightening sides, you know he's close. his cock leaks like a broken faucet, bobbing between his messy thighs. his eyes roll back and he grips handfuls of the bedsheets. "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—"

he dissolves into a babbling mess. you groan into his shoulder, kissing the freckles smattered across it, and chuckle softly. "what a basic-bitch thing to like, sweetheart. it's almost cute."

he whimpers in response, his body jostling harshly. you grab his hip, forcing him to rock back onto you, and he drawls out a long, broken moan.

"takin' my cock so well, baby," you whisper, feeling his sides tense up at the praise. "like you were made to take it."

"mmh – mhm," he slurs out, spine arching and ass pressing deeper against your hips. he sucks his swollen lower lip between his teeth. he doesn't say anything else for a long time, losing himself in your constant gentle caresses.

despite biting his lower lip in an effort to quieten himself, his mouth soon hangs open, slick lips parted to loose loud, punched moans from deep in his belly. they're cute, quavering. he sounds as if he's about to burst into tears.

"g-gonna..." his fingers twist in the bedsheets, knuckles white. your cock glides in and out of his slick asshole, punching the air out of his lungs on every snap of your hips. he can't fucking breathe; it feels too good. "'m gonna...!"

"not until you make me come," you demand, your voice growing breathier by the second. your thrusts grow heavier, messier, and his voice cracks through a cry. "else i might decide jimin deserves my cock more, slut."

he squeezes his eyes shut, and a tear falls down his cheek from the corner of his eye. he moans as he throws his ass back on your cock, piercing himself again and again and again with the wet smack of skin on skin. when you come with a groan, he loses it – he hiccups past a cry of your name, nails digging painfully into the bedsheets. he comes so hard stars explode behind his eyelids and in his veins.

his body quivers as you fuck him lazily, your breath hot against the shell of his ear as you fill him up. your cock pulses inside him, thick and warm – he trembles, burying his face in the pillows, and lifts himself slightly on weak arms, pushing his back and shoulders against the numbing heat of your body.

with a shaky sigh, he leans back against you and you press your lips against his shoulder, securing his tingling body with one firm, steady hand. his hips jerk, his body still not finished with the aftershocks of his high, and you hush him, caressing his hip. his heart pounds beneath his ribs as if he's sprinted a marathon.

it takes a long time for him to blink awake from his whiteout daze, control returning to his limbs. he hums sleepily into your skin, his head propped up on your chest.

"fucking hell," he whispers wearily. you laugh at the extra rasp in his voice.

"fucking hell indeed," you reply, too tired to move off of the bed. you stroke his shoulder, tracing circles and hearts into his skin. you tuck your other arm under your head with a soft exhale. "can you still 'get home fine on your own'?"

he pauses for a while, trying to scoop enough of his brain into a pile to remember what you're talking about. he sighs, closing his eyes, and buries his face in your chest. "shut the fuck up. i'm not getting up 'til tomorrow. and when i do, you'd better be there to carry me."

"what the fuck – why'm i the one who has to do all the work all the time?"

"i will punch your stupid pretty teeth out if you don't."

you scoff, flicking your wrists up in some half-assed form of surrender. "yeah, yeah..."

he shifts, sliding his leg over yours, and cups your side in one hand. he practically clings to you like a koala. in the warm summer silence, his breaths slow, and his muscles relax. every so often, though, you feel him tense up and shift slightly.

after the first handful of times, you groan, irritated and drowsy. "quit fucking moving, idiot. just go to sleep."

his limbs tighten around you.

"stop worrying, taehyung. i'll be here when you wake up." your voice softens – just a smidge. "promise."

that smidge is all he needs. he rests his cheek against your collarbone and mumbles – something like don't tell me what to do – and squeezes you tighter, adamant on re-establishing his authority in this relationship. he falls dead asleep, though, in just a few minutes, snoring softly as he cuddles into you.

you smile. you'll let him have this win.

#top male reader #x male reader #male reader #dom male reader #dom reader #bts x male reader #bottom bts #bottom taehyung #taehyung x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x reader #bts smut #taehyung smut

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lewisyellowhelmet · 8 months

Text

soft sound

matty healy x named!ofc (18+)

summary: matty doesn't go to his own house after the show. he goes to hers.

By the time Matty arrives, she’s almost asleep.

In some pre-dream she’d heard the front door open, rooms away. A moment of guilt for not having left the hallway light on. She can see her spare key next to the one for his own big house. Pearl doesn’t open her eyes, willing sleep to come anyway, despite the distraction. She can hear him opening the kitchen cabinets, the sound of liquid into a glass. She can imagine his fingers curved around the wine bottle, the rich redness of it. The ringing sound of him setting it on the counter. She’s watched him pour it so many times, the same easy movement, the way he wets his lips as if he can already taste the acidity.

The patio door sliding open, his footsteps closer now, just in the next room. She can almost smell the cigarette smoke, a memory curling around her nose. She wrinkles it. She can taste it on her breath, the harsh scent of it. She wonders if he has pulled the second chair around, the one she sits beside him on. If he’s used it to put his feet on, if they’re sore from the show, jumping around. There’s a stranger in her house, using her things, drinking her wine, moving furniture like he belongs here. She feels no fear. Something like comfort is settling around her heart, making space in her chest. It’s enough just to know he’s close.

Sleep is edging closer, the longer he stays away from the bedroom. She can feel his presence, the promise of his limbs tangled with hers. It soothes her, a heavy hand stroking over her body. A dreamscape beckons. She doesn’t hear Matty open the patio door again, the slide of it, close it behind himself. Numbed by sleep. Only when a shape leans over, her name is spoken, cold fingers brush hair out of her face, does she awaken again.

“Pearl,” he’s just said, “are you awake?”

“No,” she mumbles, but doesn’t turn away from his hand as it skips over her cheek bone, a thumb over her mouth, feeling her speak.

“Can I sleep in your bed?” He asks.

She wonders what he would do if she said no, rolled over, tugged the covers up around her chin. Pearl keeps her eyes shut when she says, yeah.

He doesn’t bother walking around to the other side, just starts pulling things out of his pockets and finding space to leave them on the side table, keys, his phone, a lighter, three pound. The coins clank together. She opens her eyes when he starts unbuttoning his shirt, fingers skimming over the white material. His head his bowed, dark hair over his face. She reaches out to tug the shirt out of his waistband, feel the fabric between her fingertips. She can feel the tense in his stomach as he breathes in, the release as he breathes out. Matty shrugs out of the shirt, leaves it crumpled on the floor. His hands go to his belt, unzip, and she pulls her hand back to the safety of the bed, begins to shift back to the middle of the mattress, start to make space for him.

His body is chilly as it slides in beside her. Aligns to the shape of her. She squeaks at his cold hands on her ribs, her spine.

“You’re so warm, share it with me,” Matty whines, cold nose nuzzling into her neck. The smell of smoke pervades her clean sheets.

“You’re freezing,” she groans, attempting to peel him off her, but he clings like a child. He’s stronger than her.

“Stop moving,” he tells her, half a laugh, holding her down so she can’t wriggle away. She’s giggling, enjoys the play fight.

They don’t talk about the gig. They don’t talk about the thousands in attendance. They don’t talk about what happened in New York.

Instead, he whispers about how warm she is, curling his hand in her hair. Pearl still feels the pull of sleep, it’s hard to keep her eyes open. She wants to ask him what the time is, but is afraid to know. His leg is in between hers. She wants to take her pyjamas off so she can feel his skin. He’s kissing her head now, his mouth on her hair, then her forehead, a gentle graze of his lips over her eyebrow, the very tip of her nose.

“Darling girl,” he says, the rasp of his voice. She can hear how worn out it is. A world tour will do that.

“Here I am,” she murmurs, tilts her head back so he can access her whole face, kiss her cheek, her jaw, her chin.

“Here you are,” Matty echoes, something reverent. He breathes against her mouth. Her hand flattens against his chest. She can imagine he curling lines of ink under her clean palm.

“Do you have work in the morning?” He asks.

“Is it a weekday?”

“Don’t be mean,” he whines, nips at her nose, “I’m just a silly pop star, remember?”

“Mmm,” she hums, her fingers skating up to his collarbone, the line of his throat. He keeps looking at her mouth.

“Yes, I have work,” Pearl says, as he runs the tip of his finger over her eyelashes. His thigh is pressing up into the crux of her body. Just a suggestion.

“I’ll make the coffee,” he promises.

“I only have oat milk.”

“I’ll survive.”

He’s kissing the lobe of her ear, the pulse in her neck. Her lips feel cold from the lack of attention. When he speaks she can feel it vibrating on her skin, like he’s pressing the words into her. A scarring.

His big hand is on her stomach, fingertips slipping into the waist of her pyjamas. Her body sparks.

“Is it very late?” She asks, finally getting the nerve. She doesn’t know what the cut off time is. If it’s after two would she stop this? After three? Is there a line?

“Do you really want to know?” Matty says, but withdraws his hand, leaves it on her hip.

“Maybe not.”

“I’ll make the coffee really strong,” he says.

“Is it that bad?”

He laughs, a quiet, secret one that makes her smile, “It’s not good.”

Maybe it’s close to dawn. Make the light will peek through the curtains soon. Matty is smiling at her, eyes glinting, and she’s smiling at him. She does’t care what the time is. Pearl takes his hand from her hip, lays it over her breast. Matty breathes in, his fingers already scrabbling with the buttons of her pyjama shirt so he can get inside it, under it, his palm a warm pressure over her nipple. His thigh presses up between her legs.

“Can you help me get undressed,” she whispers, shifting onto her back. Matty is so quick to follow her he almost falls.

“Yes, of course,” he tells her, up onto his knees, throwing off the covers. The cold is sudden, her body revealed to the night air. Made worse by Matty helping her out of her top, her nipples hardening. He takes his time with her pants, following the retreating material with his mouth, kissing down her thighs, under her knees, the muscle of her calves. His eyes drag over her when she’s naked, and she wriggles under them.

“I’m cold,” she tells him.

“Let me look for a second,” Matty says.

“It’s too dark to even see anything.”

“I can see,” he says, his voice heavy. Pearl feels a bit like a painting, an art piece. Laid still underneath him for his viewing pleasure.

“You want me to warm you up?” He asks, shifting her so he can get between her legs, still in his underwear, black material clinging to the hard line of him. It makes her dizzy that she can get him like that just from being naked. Just from him looking at her.

“Yeah,” she says, her hands folded over her chest. He picks them up, brings them to his mouth, encased in his. He breathes hot air into the opening of her fingers, like he’s coaxing a fire. Pearl watches, enraptured.

When he lifts his head from their hands, he’s smiling, a curl fallen out from where it was safely tucked behind his ear to lie against the line of his cheek.

“Thank you,” she says.

“All warmed up?”

She shakes her head, loose hair rustling on the pillow. Matty frowns, over dramatic.

“No? Where else are you cold?”

She blushes, but twitches her hips. Matty’s face lights up.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Let me see what I can do,” he assures her, rakes a hand through his hair. Pearl has a sudden memory of the first time they did this. A shitty apartment. The horrible way it snows in Manchester. The smell of weed.

His mouth is hot and wet on her, lavishes his attention. She squirms and pants, tugging on his hair. He’s easily guided. He knows what she’s going to ask for her before she gets the chance to say it. Harder. Lower. Slower. His big hands span her thighs, holding her open and steady for him. Her feet flex. She groans as he gets a finger inside her, two, crooks them towards himself. He shifts, pressure increasing, and she cries out. Matty is lying prone on the bed, and she can see how he’s grinding into the mattress when she lifts her head up

“Do you wish that was me?” She asks, breathless. Matty looks up at her, fingers still pushing in and out. His mouth is shiny. He looks dazed.

“So badly,” he says, nodding for too long. He seems overwhelmed by the experience, turns to sink his teeth into her thigh.

“It can be,” she tells me, and feels him groan into her. He turns his head, mouth dragging over where she’s wet and pink. Licks into her, over and over. Her orgasm is small but enough, her knees tight around Matty’s head, holding him there. He doesn’t stop until she yanks his head away, oversensitive, lifting his head up like a rag doll, black hair clumped around her fingers. He’s grinning.

“Again,” he says, voice raw. She laughs at him, her body warm and relaxed.

“Don’t be greedy.”

He’s a pleasant weight as he crawls up her body, comes up to lie over her, supported on one elbow. She helps him out of his underwear, drags fingers over his hips, his ribs, the muscle of his shoulders.

“I love you so much,” he tells her, earnest and boyish. Pearl smiles, tucks his hair behind his years. Silver threads.

“I know you do.”

He’s hot and thick against the opening of her. Matty seems to be satisfied with her answer, or chooses not to press it, reaches between them to help himself into her, a steady push that makes her eyes roll back.

“Fuck,” she says, wraps her arms around him to bring him low and close to her, his face in her neck as he finds a familiar rhythm. It makes her delirious. He’s saying nonsense against her jugular, shifting to bend one of her legs back against to her body, his hand under her knee, opening her up more for him.

“Is that good?” He pants, like he doesn’t know the answer every time is yes, yes, yes. Pearl reaches for his face, kissing him messily. He tastes like her, his tongue eager.

“Matty,” she gasps, when he gets a good angle, sat back on his heels, her legs in his hands as he fucks into her, his necklace sticking against the planes of his chest.

“I know,” he says, “I know, I know. You feel so good.”

She wants to thrash and scream, settles for her a breathless sob and grabbing at his shoulders. He curls over her, forehead to forehead. She can taste his breath, hot air passed between them, lung to lung.

“I’m really close,” Pearl says, reaching between them to rub over where they meet. Matty knocks her hand away, does it himself, knows her body too easily. She can see how he’s working to keep the rhythm for her and not chase his own orgasm, his jaw loose and eyes glazed.

“Oh my god,” she cries, everything in her tightening.

“Do it, do it,” Matty is saying, “Let me see.”

She can hear him from very far away as she arches up into his embrace, held down by the weight of him, holding her safe and close as he fucks her through it. This orgasm is whole and overwhelming. Matty inside her and over her and around her.

She lies limp and lax when it’s over, one arm draped over him, gazing up at him in worship. Matty looks like he wants to eat her whole.

“Is it okay if I - ,” He starts, but she’s already urging him on.

“Yes, yes, come in me. I want it.”

“Oh fuck,” he says, hastening, his movements urgent and rough, “Oh, fuck. You want it, you want it.”

“I want it so bad,” she tells him, wrapping her legs around him, holding his face in her hands. He looks young, his face blurring into every single time she’s had him like this, begging for her. Matty screws his eyes shut, mouth hanging open, his head heavy in her hands as he comes, fucking messily into her.

Pearl feels sleep close at hand, even with Matty a boneless weight on her, still dripping out between her legs.

“Are you okay?” She whispers, her lips against his temple. The sweat is making them stick together.

“Yeah,” he says against her throat, “Just resting. Are you?”

“Sleepy,” she says, fingers careful at the base of his spine. He gets ticklish there.

He seems to draw his energy together, willing his muscles to work, before he gets up, fumbles his way to the bathroom. He returns with a damp face cloth and her full water bottle.

“How romantic,” Pearl teases him, even as he drops the cloth unceremoniously on her belly and takes a long swallow from her bottle before he passes it to her. He waits for her to clean herself before he takes the cloth, throws it back towards the bathroom where Pearl hears it land on the tiled floor.

This time, when Matty gets in bed beside her, he’s warm, fitting his body around hers. The duvet is almost too hot now. Her breathing is still unsteady.

“Don’t let me snooze the alarm,” Pearl tells him, her spine curved to his chest. Matty presses his mouth to her bare shoulder, a lazy kiss.

“I won’t.”

“Remember you’re making the coffee.”

“I remember.”

Sleep is an old friend, willing her towards it. Her body feels overworked and exhausted. Matty is draped over her like a favourite blanket.

#matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy x oc #matty healy imagine #matty healy smut #matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #*

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

Note

is there any chance of getting vampire daddies 🤧💔

idk if this is what you meant...but I've been really wanting to do a mom reader and a lil bb <3

Vampire (Levi) x Single mom reader

Word Count: 2.5k

W: some violence and minor character death, drugging, kidnapping, babynapping, cute baby, sfw vampire fluff, small character injury

“What is she doing here?!” your client Levi Prishdarov growled, baring his vampire fangs at the bundle on your back. He was a massive vampire, looming over the two of you at something like 7 feet tall. His jet black hair hung around his shoulders in loose waves, brushing the red silk house jacket that matched his eyes. It hung open, revealing his alabaster chest, looking like a carved Greek statue.

Behind you, your six month old daughter, Meryl babbled baby speak and yanked on your hair, pointing at him with one small finger.

“Daaaa!”

You gave Levi an apologetic smile.

“Sorry Mr. Prishdarov,” you said quickly, pulling your arms out of the fish tank you were working on and wiping them on a rag, “her son-of-a-bitch father ran off, so Meryl’s gonna have to come with me on my runs for a while, I hope you don’t mind. I promise she won’t disrupt my work.”

You hadn’t meant to be so candid with the Lord of the largest vampire clan in the area, but you’d been under a lot of stress recently. You’d just gotten out of a relationship with your asshole ex fiance after he decided six months after Meryl was born that monogamy and fatherhood were not for him.

He left you high and dry with a business to run on your own and a baby. He’d taken off with everything in your bank account, so you didn’t even have any of your savings for daycare. Fortunately Meryl was at least big enough to ride on your back while you went around town servicing fish tanks.

When people asked you about her you’d given up on pulling your punches and trying to talk delicately about the situation. You had no choice but to bring her with you, so you needed all the sympathy and understanding you could get. Occasionally she cried or you had to change her diaper, which wasn't a good look.

He wrinkled his nose at your daughter and took a step forward, examining her. He poked her cheek with a large, cold finger and her eyes got big. She grabbed the digit with her tiny chubby hand and stuck it in her mouth to chew. His cold skin probably felt nice on her poor little gums, sore from teething.

“You don’t have a wet nurse?” he asked.

You chuckled.

“I don’t think they’ve had those around for a hundred years, sir,” you laughed.

“So you are just carrying her around with you? Exposing her to germs and strangers?!” he gasped.

You shrugged, handing her a bit of clean tubing to play with in hopes she would release Levi’s finger.

“I think she’ll be fine,” you assured mostly yourself, but it did concern you that you had to go to all these different places with her. This wasn’t the vision of motherhood you imagined, toting her around like luggage to your jobs, but it was nice spending time with her and she was a happy baby, smiling at everyone and collecting pats.

The hardest part so far had been keeping her out of your clients hands while you worked and in her carrier. They had a tendency to pick her up and tote her off throughout the house. There were odd selfies of her all over instagram with her fans. You worried about her being exposed to so many people, but you were dancing on a delicate line.

Levi glared at the two of you, so you quickly finished up your work to make yourself scarce. Not everybody liked babies and you weren’t surprised a vampire lord would be a little miffed by one.

–

“Here comes the choo-choo!” you giggled, aiming the little spoon of baby food at Meryl’s mouth. It had been a long day running all around town to refill tanks with salt water, feed and restock fish, and do all the other things a fish tank service person did all with a little cinnamon roll wriggling on your back.

Fortunately, all the activity had made her sleepy and she was barely keeping her eyes open as you tried to coax her into eating her mashed peaches as you held her, sitting on the bumper of your van.

You had one more stop for the day, at the house you were parked in front of, and then you could take her home, make dinner, and the both of you could crash until she woke up hungry again.

You stretched, before strapping a sleepy Meryl back to you and knocking on the door.

“Hello Mr. Gujek,” you said to the orc standing there. He frowned down at you.

“Is that a baby?” he asked.

“She’s my daughter,” you clarified, “her name is Meryl, but she won’t get in my way, she’s passed out.”

He didn’t look happy, but you ignored it. It was the end of the day and you wanted to get this last job over with so you could get home.

“Can’t you leave it in the van?” he asked.

You glared at him, setting your things up by his thousand gallon arowana tank.

“I am not leaving her in the van,” you snapped just as harshly as you meant to, “she’s fast asleep. She won’t cause any trouble.”

The orc seemed extremely put out, but again, you brushed it off. It was the end of the day, you didn’t really have the patience to get into a long discussion about anything. All Mr. Gujek needed was a filter change and to administer some medicine for fin rot. You’d be out of there in fifteen minutes.

He disappeared for a moment, leaving you with the fish, then reappeared a minute later holding a cup of coffee.

“I’m sorry about that, I wasn’t expecting you to bring your baby. I was just surprised…” he trailed off more gently, “you must be tired. Have some coffee.”

You glanced at him from beside the tank and accepted the cup without thinking, taking a sip. Coffee was exactly what you needed after such a long day.

“Thanks Mr. Gujek, you have no idea how much I needed this,” you chuckled, throwing back a bit more.

He gave you a tight smile. You went back to replacing the filter, balancing the cup on the tank stand only distance suddenly seemed wonky. As you moved your hands they seemed further and further away and less and less responsive to your brain’s orders.

“Huh?” you murmured and then the world got swimmy.

You immediately thought of Meryl, pulling her safely to your front in the wrap you carried her in, as you started to sink the floor, the world getting foggy. Your last thoughts were of protecting her head with your hands as you hit the ground and things went dark.

—

“I didn’t know she was going to have a baby with her,” Mr. Gujek’s voice snarled at someone.

Your eyes felt itchy and dry and it took you some time to get them open.

“I’m not killing a baby,” he said, “that’s why I called you. Can’t you do something with it? Sell it or raise it as livestock or something? I just want the woman. Just don’t…you know…murder it…that’s bad karma...no, it’s not the same as kidnapping! Whatever, hurry up and get over here!”

You shook your head, trying to chase the fogginess away but it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

“Meryl…?” you groaned, trying to look around, your panic slowly growing as you realized you couldn’t move your arms and legs and Meryl wasn’t in them.

You were in a bedroom, chained to a modern, nice bed with a cushioned headboard and expensive sheets.

“Meryl?!” you cried, looking around. You didn’t see her anywhere! You went into full on panic mode, screaming and fighting your restraints until your bones started popping. You were considering whether or not you could break your thumbs to get out of the manacles when Mr. Gujek appeared in the doorway holding your baby in one arm.

She was such a tiny little thing compared to the massive orc, it set off every protective bone in your body.

“Give her to me!” you demanded, “give me my daughter!”

He gave you a chilly smile.

“You should probably stop thinking of it as yours,” he smirked, looking down at her, “when its new master arrives it’ll belong to him.”

She glared up at him, tears building in her wet little eyes and it broke your heart. His disgusting hands on her were worse than her father leaving. She waved her little fists as if she could fight him off.

“This is sick you bastard!” you screeched, tears clouding your vision, “I’ll do anything! Anything you want, please just don’t take her away!”

He crossed the room and sank into the bed next to you.

“You shouldn’t have had a baby,” he pouted, and Meryl started to sniffle in his arms, “Only I get to breed you…but it is good to know you are fertile. Now there’s no question of that. Don’t be sad. I’ll give you plenty of little ones to love, strong orc babies, better than this one.”

You heard the doorbell ring and the orc eagerly hopped up as if a pizza had arrived. You heard the front door open and a muffled question.

“May I come in?”

“Come on,” the orc said, “I want to get this over with so I can get to playing with my new toy.”

You heard Meryl crying and the sound of something wet tearing. Was it fabric? Flesh? Your heart pounded and tears rolled down your cheeks. Meryl! Meryl had to be okay!

You struggled with the restraints, trying to keep at the front of your mind that if she was still crying she was alive. You could get to her, you just had to try harder. Pain radiated up your arms as you tried to force your hands through the metal cuffs and blood leaked down your wrists as they scraped your skin.

There was a wet gurgle and a thunk, then silence and you froze, tears plummeting down your cheeks.

“Meryl…?” you whispered as your heart went ice cold.

Heavy bootsteps stomped through the hallway, getting closer and closer until a tall dark figure appeared in the doorway.

“Meryl!” you shrieked, seeing her before even seeing the male holding her.

She was propped in the crook of Levi’s large arm, chewing on his finger happily. His other hand was dripping blood. The collar of his white shirt with soaked with it and the sleeve of his suit jacket was dark.

He frowned at you and crossed the room quickly, holding your little nugget under his arm like a china football as he yanked the chains holding you to the bed, snapping them like threads. You held your loose arms out for your baby and he passed her to you. You didn’t even notice him looking you over for injuries and growling at the lacerations on your wrists.

“Oh thank goodness!” you sobbed, holding her to your chest and covering her with kisses.

Finally it occurred to you that it was odd Levi was there and you looked up at him.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

He frowned down at you, looking not in the least bit amused.

“The orc wanted to sell me Meryl,” he said, scooping you both up in his arms and carrying you out of the bedroom. You hid Meryl’s face and tried to swallow down the bile that rose as you passed the mess the vampire had made of the orc and left in the hall. His limbs were all over the place and blood was splattered on the walls.

When you got outside he passed your work van and headed directly to his limousine. He washed the bloody hand with some supplies he pulled from a small compartment in the vehicle and started dabbing your wrists with whatever cleanser he kept.

“But…I need to take my van home…” you started to say, but trailed off as his red eyes focused on you.

“I’ll have someone come collect it, the rest of your things are already being taken to my house,” he said.

“Y-you’re house?” you asked.

He looked down at you evenly.

“My daughter and wife are not going to be running around town going in and out of stranger’s homes,” he said with distaste, “as you can see it’s dangerous. You’ll stay at home where it’s safe.”

“Wait…what?! You’re what?!” you asked, “We have a home!”

He nodded.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“I’m not your wife, though,” you said.

He cocked his head.

“According to the state of (Y/S) you are, Mrs. Prishdarov,” he said, more cheerful than you’d ever seen him in all the years you’d cared for his stingrays.

You shivered and narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re not going to eat us, are you?” you asked, suspiciously and he laughed out loud, displaying a smile you’d never seen before that was very handsome.

“I’m not going to eat my wife and child,” he said, matter-of-factly, picking up Meryl’s tiny hand between two fingers and gently shaking it, “am I, little baby bat? You are not for eating! You are for spoiling! You are going to be the most spoiled insufferable little girl in the whole world.”

He looked at her with absolute adoration.

“Daaaaa!” she gurgled, gripping his finger in her much smaller ones and pushing it in her mouth.

“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?” you asked as you stared in awe as your little child innocently chewed on the vampire’s digit that had only moments ago been ripping apart an orc twenty times her size.

His eyes flashed and his opposite hand found your cheek, his cool fingers drifting down your face.

“Because I’ve been watching you,” he said smiling, “since you suggested the rays to me in the fish store. I’ve become fascinated with you.”

You'd met Levi at the fish store you'd worked at a few years earlier before your business had taken off. It was a high end boutique for salt water fish and you'd sold him on the stingrays.

They'd always been your favorite and you'd wanted some yourself, but there was no chance you would ever have the money for an enclosure large enough.

You had no idea, the entire time you'd been coming over to his house, servicing his fish tank Levi had been growing more and more attached to you. He'd pined after you, especially, while you were pregnant and delicate, infuriated that your fiance let the little, round mother of his child waddle from house to house working on fishtanks. He sighed.

“I thought I had more time to seduce you after I ate- I mean, I-ah, since…whatever his name was…disappeared,” he frowned, “but of course a pretty thing like you would be popular and attract all the wrong sort. That’s the curse of beautiful women, isn’t it?”

Your eyes widened at him.

“B-but I’m human…” you said.

Surely a vampire clan lord didn’t want a mere human and her baby.

“And you will remain so until you’re done nursing…then we’ll discuss a more permanent arrangement,” he replied.

You gasped.

“A more…permanent-”

“Shhh, you are very tired my little guppy,” he cooed and you felt your eyes getting heavy as he looked into them with his swirling irises.

No! Not again! You tried to fight it, but your world went foggy and your hands went limp around Meryl. When you were asleep, Levi arranged you against his chest and smiled down at his new baby girls.

“Daaadaaa!” Meryl babbled sweetly at him as she tried to grab at his fangs.

“That's right! Don't tell your mama but I killed your sperm donor, little baby bat,” he said in his own baby voice, gazing into Meryl's big eyes and gently wiggling her tiny toes.

He lifted her chubby little foot to nibble it and smiled, “now I’m your daddy. Can you say dad-dee?”

She stuck her foot in her mouth and waved at him with her pudgy hands.

"Daaaaaaa-drrrreeeee," she tried and they both grinned.

#monster x girl #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster oc #monster romance #monster x human #x reader #monster fluff #vampire fluff #vampire #x mom reader #yandere male #male yandere #yandere x darling

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fuzybby · 5 months

Text

Fatuous

A Gale Dekarios x gn!reader (with a vag)

Synopsis: You are quite the clutz aren't you? And Gale is in love with making you feel small.

CW: "mean" dom!Gale, the smallest bit of choking, p in v, p eating and d sucking, hair pulling, creampie, dumbification, Gale is kinda mean but he's hot so, I use the term cunt a lot, lmk if I missed any:)

The day seemed to stretch on far longer than any other day. The moment my companions and I started our adventure today, everything seemed to fall out of place for me. I managed to set off every trap, failed at persuading every goblin, and not to mention Gale has been on my ass all day. Using big words like fatuous and doltish. Later I learned these words are just other terms for stupid, but anytime he used them it seemed directed at me. Telling me that my attempt to pick the lock was doltish. Telling me that I was so fatuous for not seeing the trip wire. And as much as I hated being insulted by the man, it made my cheeks flush. Did I understand the words he was saying to me? No. Did it manage to still make my panties wet? Absolutely.

Finally, after so long of walking and falling behind because of how sore my feet were, everyone decided to create camp just as the sun was setting. I decided to take a bath in the lake not that far from camp, to which Astarion made a snarky comment that I should make sure not to trip and die on the way there. It took every urge to not smack him upside the head as I grabbed my extra clothes and walked off into the trees.

The lake was cold, but after sweating in my armour all day, I didn't mind. I stripped completely naked as I stepped in, walking up until the water was up to my waist so I could still soak in the few remaining rays of sunlight on my upper body. The area was quiet, only the sounds of chirping birds and animals scurrying in the grass keeping me company. I rubbed water over my arms and hugged myself, letting out a deep and shaky sigh as I replayed the day's events in my mind.

The sound of a twig snapping snaps me out of my daze, and I quickly look behind me to see Gale leaning against a tree. His eyes rake up and down my body that's above water, and I hug myself deeper to suppress the sudden chill that went down my spine.

"Glad to see you didn't slip and perish on your way here," Gale says, he smirks as he sees my confused face.

"Can you talk normally for once?" I groan, turning back around so I no longer see him. Hoping that if I don't look at him he'll go away.

"It's not my fault you're too dumb to understand my words." He calls, moving closer and closer to the water. Never entering it. He's close enough now I can smell him, the way his clothes smell of books and dust, does it do it to remind him of home? That's almost...sweet of him.

"Can you leave me alone? You're not making my day any better." My voice is shaky, the cold from the water finally catching up to me. I shiver slightly, but I hold myself tighter.

"But I could." He smirks, I can hear his clothes shuffling, most likely disrobing so he can enter the water.

My breath catches in my throat. I bite my lip and turn around to look at him once again. His shirt is off, and the tattoo from the orb in his chest glows beautifully against the barely-there sun. I look down to see his hands on his trouser ties, almost as if he's silently asking if it's okay for him to fully disrobe. I nod my head slowly, giving consent that I do want this. As much as his intelligence makes me want to smack him, I can't stand here and lie that I don't want this, that I don't want him.

His hands move quickly to take off his trousers, pulling off his boots and underwear as he finally steps into the water. My eyes drop down to his soft cock, the veins so barely visible, but then his waist hits the water and I can no longer see it. He comes up to stand right beside me, and I look up to meet his eyes.

"Do you want this? Because I will warn you, I have no intention of being nice." Gale states, his fingers trace across my arm so lightly, I could have said it was the wind that made the contact if it wasn't for the fact I could see his hand.

"I want this." I nod my head, I move one hand off my arm and trace a finger across his tattoo. "Please."

He seems to make a noise close to a growl, or maybe a snarl. Either way, he takes both his hands to grab my face and pull me to his own. He kisses me roughly, the kind of kiss where your noses squish against one another. I hold onto his shoulders in hopes of grounding myself, moaning into his mouth as he pushes his tongue inside. It's not a fight for dominance as he kisses me, I willingly submit to him. But before long, he pulls me away and starts taking steps back out of the water, and I follow him without a second thought.

"Get on your knees." He commands the moment we're out of the water, and I do exactly as he asks. "Do you want to suck this cock?" He asks me, and I nod. His dick is finally hard now, and I enjoy the way it twitches in the cool air. He already drips with pre-cum, it falls down the underside of his cock and drips to the ground.

I nod my head in answer, but Gale doesn't seem to like that. He roughly grabs my hair, letting it go slightly once he sees my face wince from the pain. "Are you too stupid to answer? Speak."

"I want to suck your cock." I answer with words this time, and he smirks. His face is so beautiful from this angle, hair falling over his face slightly as he looks me up and down.

"Go ahead then, be good for me and take it into your mouth." He says, and I keep my eyes on him as I lick a long stripe from the base of his cock to the tip from the underside. His mouth falls open only slightly in a silent moan, his eyebrows scrunch together as his hold on my hair tightens. He doesn't force my head to do anything, he lets me set my own pace once I take his cock into my mouth fully. I try to keep eye contact the whole time, but the moment his dick hits the back of my throat I close my eyes. I hollow my cheeks as I get his length wet with my saliva, enjoying the taste of his salty pre-cum.

My jaw aches from how big he is, and I place my hands on his hips so I can steady myself. His moans start growing louder and louder as he gets to his release, and I prepare myself mentally to swallow his cum. Right as I start to feel his dick twitch, he pulls me off his cock. A line of saliva connects from his tip to my lips, his breathing is ragged as he calms himself down.

"I want to fuck you from behind." He says. it's not a suggestion, and the moment he let go of my hair I moved to my hands and knees facing away from him. I can feel him kneel behind me, his hands grabbing my waist and my ass. It's almost loving the way he grabs me, the way his hands move up to my breasts to play and toy with my nipples. He pinches and squeezes the flesh and I cry out at the feeling, but his hands quickly move back to grab at my ass.

"Your fucking ass is beautiful." He states breathlessly. He moves down slightly to press a gentle kiss to each cheek, before quickly smacking each place he kissed with a rough hand. I moan and grab at the dirt on the ground, my chest moves to lay against the forest floor as my ass stays high in the air.

His hands continue to rub and grope my behind, his thumbs move to my folds to spread me open, and my cunt contracts against nothing as he laughs mockingly at me. "What a pretty pussy." He whispers and moves to drag his tongue across my cunt. I gasp out his name, my legs shake from just one lick from his tongue.

"So they do speak. I had thought I had already fucked you dumb from your lack of words, I mean- dumber than you already are." Gale purrs, shoving his face back into my heat. I cry out as he ravishes me, the feeling of his tongue circling over my clit and then moving to tease my opening makes my eyes roll back. He gently takes my clit in between his teeth, and then licks it again almost as if to say "Sorry for biting you."

He eats me out like he was a starving man, his grip on my ass never relents. The feeling of my climax now dangling in front of me, tempting me to grab it. One more flick of his tongue on my clit and I come undone, crying out a serious of "please"s and his name. He doesn't stop sucking on my clit until I take a hand and try to shove his face away from me.

He sits back up and takes a hand to push my body down on the ground so I'm lying fully on my stomach. I'm still trying to take big deep breaths as he slides his length into me with one swift movement. He plants his hands next to my head and I grab his wrists. Tears roll down my face as he starts fucking into me slowly, overstimulation and the stretch of his cock making my mouth fall open in a silent scream.

Gale's position changes slightly, he moves his one arm to wrap around my neck so I'm locked in a headlock with his one arm. His thrusts never falter, if anything they seem to get faster. "Gods above your fucking tight." Gale moans. His one hand that's still planted by my head moves as well to grab my hand. Holding it in his own in a strangely affectionate manner.

"You feel s'good." I slurred my words, my one free hand that was not being held by his grasp and scratched at Gale's arm around my neck.

"You so pathetic like this," Gale smirks, he moves his head right next to mine so he can whisper in my ear. His hair falls over his face as he thrusts into me, his beard tickles the side of my face as he presses little kisses against my skin.

He pounds into me now, his cock hitting my g-spot every time he re-enters me. "Gale- I-I'm gonna cum-" I moan as my legs shake against his. I cry out once more, my body convulsing as wave after wave of ecstasy runs through my body. Gale moans along with me, his head moves so he can bite my shoulder to muffle his noises as he finally spills himself inside me. His thrusts don't stop until his legs shake, only then does he fully stop and press himself against me. I tap his arm still around my neck to signal him to get off, to which he quickly apologizes and moves off of me.

We both whine once he slips out, and he moves his hands to my folds once more to spread me open and watch his cum slip out of my cunt.

"Was I too much?" He asks, still watching my hole contract around the cum that oozes from me.

"No, I liked it," I say breathlessly, turning my head to look at him. his hair on his forehead and neck stuck to his skin from sweat, his beard still slightly stained from my essence. When he notices me looking at him, he smirks and presses a kiss on my lower back.

"Good, because this will be a regular thing."

#gale x tav #gale x reader #gale x reader smut #gale dekarios #gale smut #gale dekarious smut #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate gale

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softshuji · 1 year

Text

You're washing up when Hanma comes home.

There's a subdued and tired 'where's my princess?' echoing in the hallway as he slips off his shoes, tossing them haphazardly onto the rack to trip over in the morning, by which he'll curse out loud as he slips over them, his lanky body leaning against the wall.

You don't answer, and it strikes him as odd that you're not there to run and jump into his arms the second he walks in like he's used to, all eagerness and love that has you pressed to the wall in a heated kiss on instinct.

'Princess?' he says, and his head comes around the door to the kitchen where you stand with your back to him, the clean dishes neatly piled as you scrub with a determination that has your hands sore.

He knows.

'You good?' and his arms come around you, his mouth finding your neck, your jaw, your cheek, cold and tense and he stiffens in unison with you.

'yeah.' clipped, and he frowns, the crease of his perfect brows tickling your collarbone. His hands slip further down to your tummy, where the cold water drenching your skin has him shivering.

'Pretty girl? Your shirts wet.' matter of factly, and he's reaching over to switch off the taps and turn you around to face him.

You still, a minor resistance and you're pulling back to keep at your chore. 'It always gets wet when I'm washing up.'

He searches your eyes, finds the answer there in the unwavering gaze still locked onto the soapy water in the sink, your hands roughened by the water.

'I'll go get you some fresh clothes.'

'You don't need to.'

'I'm not asking you permission sweetheart,' he says, firmness and love that has him understanding you wordlessly. 'How long have you been standing here?'

'I'm not sure. A few hours maybe.'

'I see.'

A wordless hum, and he strokes your cheek, bloodied knuckles that have your eyes welling despite your inner protestations.

You're not sure how it happens. He dries your hands, holding them firmly as he leads you to the bedroom where you stand, a little adrift, a little confused as you always are when this happens, and reaches into the wardrobe to fish out a fresh shirt of his and shorts of yours. You watch him, still in his suit, his gun flashing every so often as he bends to pull your shorts down. Socks too, your favourite ones, that he slips onto your feet, a kiss to each ankle that has your eyes pricking with tears.

He's more serious than usual at times like this. He asks if you're sick and you reply in the negative. He feels your forehead and pulls your shorts on, his hands gentle, skimming along your sides, a firm and reassuring touch along your back, his fingertips tracing your spine.

'arms up sweetheart.'

You lift them and pulls your wet shirt off, replaces it with one of his own, fresh and clean. The relief is palpable and you nearly sag against him when he pulls you, just like that, to his body. As if you could melt, as if you could fall right through him.

'Something happen while I was gone?' he says and strokes your hair, one big hand that's warm on your cold skin, the other resting on the nape of your neck.

'no, no it didn't.'

'And you're not sick?' he says, his lips to your forehead, your arms rising to rest on his back, so big and beautiful.

'I'm not sick.'

'Hm. Just one of those days?'

'Maybe.'

'I see.' And he reaches behind you for hand cream, squeezes it out before massaging it onto your skin.

You cry. And he never mentions it, never says anything as your tears slip down the grazes on his skin, bruised knuckles now hot, the red of previous grazes stinging slightly from your tears. He hums, massages your hands, kisses the back of each one before holding the bed covers open, inviting, wordless.

You slide in, still crying and he strips before he slips in behind you, warm covers tucked up to your chin. He always waits and you love that about him, love that he's patient enough to hold out till it makes more sense, that he takes direction, initiative that comes from love without you asking.

You fall asleep soon after, your tired sniffles giving way to soft sighs, and he slips out of the bed again, for the kitchen, where he rearranges the cutlery and cleans, discarding your wet shirt And dirty laundry, ready for you when you wake again.

Reblogs appreciated!

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyorev x reader #hanma shuji #hanma x reader #tokyo revengers x reader

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 9 months

Text

Pluvial - Charles Leclerc

Walking home wasn't the most fun at the best of times, but today it was downright dismal. The dark, plumbeous clouds loomed overhead as the rain poured down over you. You were dripping from head to toe as you trudged down the street, your heels squelching with every step you took.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you arrived back at the lobby of your apartment building. The doorman let you straight in, not without looking you up and down and slightly judging you. You thought running up the stairs might warm you up, so that's exactly what you did.

As you jogged past people, you could feel their eyes watching you as you as you could hear the water dripping to the floor. To be frank, you looked like a drowned rat and stuck out like a sore thumb in the dazzling grandeur of Monte Carlo.

You eventually made it to the front door of your apartment and found the door was locked. "Charles!" you shouted, not caring that everyone down the hall could hear you as you rapped on the door with your fist.

"Hey baby, sorry-" he started as he opened the door, but you pushed straight past him and into the apartment, shrugging your soaked coat off your shoulders and onto the tiled floor. "Shit, your soaked," he said, picking your coat up and taking it to the laundry room.

"Oh you think?" you sarcastically asked, kicking your shoes off and stomping through to the bathroom. "You should have called me," he said, closing the door behind him.

"It wasn't raining when I set off," you said, peeling your wet tights off your legs and throwing them into the laundry bin with a wet thud. You frustratedly clawed the the zip on the back of your dress, but you couldn't quite reach.

"Here, let me do it," he said, pushing your hands out of the way and tugging the zip down your back until it slumped off your shoulders. He dragged the straps over your shoulders and let the sodden material fall to the floor.

"Baby, you're freezing," he affectionately sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head in the crook of your neck. The warmth of his skin on yours sent shivers of happiness up your spine. "Yeah, it was pretty cold out there," you lightly laughed as you folded your arms over his.

To Charles, your skin was cold and goosebumps sprouted on his arms at the sensation. He felt bad for not thinking about picking you up, but he had been completely distracted so he didn't notice when the rain started to pour.

Begrudgingly, he let you go and set the shower running as hot as he could make it without burning you. "I'll be next door if you need me," he said, wanting to give you some time to yourself. Charles left the room and headed out to the kitchen while he left you to shower.

"OK," you nodded, slipping your underwear down your legs and your bra over your head. The warm water ran down your body and sent tingles shooting through you. The cold was washed away and into the drain, leaving nothing but warmth behind.

After you had finished washing your hair, you wrapped a towel around you to dry off. Wandering out to your bedroom, you spotted a pair of your joggers and your favourite one of Charles' Ferrari hoodies draped over the bed for you. You couldn't think of a cosier outfit for right now, and you looked out of the balcony doors to see that it was still pouring it down.

Letting the towel drop down to your feet, you felt a pair of eyes lingering on you. You didn't turn around, you just let him watch. You were comfortable in your body around him, so you didn't mind. You pulled a fresh pair of underwear up your legs, shortly followed by the sweats and then the hoodie on top.

Turning around, you saw Charles leaning against the door frame with his arms folded, making his arms look incredible. "Hi," you smirked, sauntering up to him.

"Well aren't you just stunning," he grinned, pulling you into a hug. Charles was a great hugger, there was no denying it. "You go and get comfy, I'll bring you a tea," he said, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Alright," you confirmed, walking out to the patio and taking a seat on one of the loungers. You let the rain encapsulate you as it fell from the sky to the ground. Thunder rumbled in the distance as a flash of lightning danced across the sky. The sound was the best part by far, the droplets on the pavement making the perfect soundscape across the city.

You didn't even notice the patio door sliding open behind you until you felt a blanket being draped over your shoulders as Charles wrapped it around you. He placed a mug of steaming hot tea on the table with a clink and shimmied in behind you.

Shuffling back so you were sat in between his legs, you leant back against his chest as Charles rested his head atop yours. There were no words to be exchanged, you both just acknowledged the moment and etched it permanently into your brain like a tattoo.

A/N - The next part of 'Baby Fever' will be out soon, I promise!

|masterlist|

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #fluff #f1 imagines #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine

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luvxiem · 7 months

Text

soft love — luca kaneshiro

› pairing: luca kaneshiro x gn!reader (reader is wearing makeup but no gendered terms are used)

› word count: ~800

› genre: fluff

› summary: you're exhausted and can barely keep your eyes open after a long day of classes, but you can't seem to drag yourself to your bathroom to wash up. luckily your boyfriend is here to help.

after an arduous day of lectures and labs, your feet are hurting and your back is sore. when you arrived at your apartment, you immediately toed off your shoes and flopped onto your shared bed, arms spread out and facing the ceiling. that was twenty minutes ago now, and you don't see yourself moving anytime soon.

there's faint humming coming from the attached bathroom—a little tune that's been popular on tiktok lately. breathing in deeply, you catch the scent of luca's cologne. it's subtle yet comforting, and you find yourself slowly falling asleep to his voice and the muffled city street.

the door to the bathroom suddenly opens, spilling yellow light into the room and directly onto your face. your nose scrunches and you turn away from the light as luca pads out. a gentle nudge to your back has you groaning.

"babe?" luca whispers. he leans down, bringing his face close to yours and you can smell the mint of his toothpaste. a calloused hand brushes a stray strand of hair aside as you grunt in reply.

"hey, you okay?" he asks, a little worried. blearily opening one eye, you can see the slight furrow of his brow. turning to rest fully on your back, you wave your hand in his general direction as you close your eyes once again.

"'m fine, just tired," you mumble. luca hums and you can hear his footsteps as he walks away. the sound of the creaky bathroom cabinet opening startles you, and suddenly there's something cold and wet rubbing across your face. luca gently wipe away your concealer and eyeshadow, taking care not to be too rough on your skin.

"you're gonna get pimples if you sleep in your makeup again," he chides. blinking your eyes open, you lay still as he removes all the product from your face and grins when he deems yourself clean enough for his standards. taking ahold of your arm, he hoists you into a seated position.

"stay," he orders, and you watch as luca ducks into the bathroom once again only to come out holding a headband and your foaming cleanser in one hand and a small bowl of water in the other. there's a small facial towel draped over his left arm as well. he sets the bowl down on the bedside table and sits beside you, angling your body toward him.

"can you look up for me?" he asks gently, maneuvering your head to put the headband on properly and pushing your hair away from your face. from there, he dips the towel into the water and wipes your face down one more time. taking the bottle of cleanser, he pumps a small dollop onto his palm and rubs his hands together before slowly massaging the soap into your skin. he takes care to wipe the foam off your eyes and lips and hums the same song as earlier.

luca proceeds to go through the rest of your skincare and helps you brush your teeth ("hey, did y'know you have vampire fangs?" "wha?") without you having to remind him of anything even once—he's watched you do this routine for months—and although he doesn't know what the exact purpose of serum is, he can follow your routine to a t.

after he puts everything back in their respective positions, he helps you undress and change into a comfortable t-shirt that smells suspiciously of him. you flop onto your back on top of the covers as luca goes to turn off the lights. in the darkness, you watch him shrug off his tank top in favor of sleeping shirtless and fall into bed next to you, and he pulls you closer so that your head is tucked underneath his chin.

"thank you," you whisper, letting your eyes fall shut as a warm palm rubs your sides under your sleep shirt. luca tilts his head to leave a lingering kiss against your hair.

"of course," he says, voice low and tinged with concern. "you uh, seemed really tired today. i got a kinda worried."

"it wasn't anything big," you winced. "just had a long day 's all. but seriously, thank you for doing all that. you didn't have to." luca hushes you and squeezes you tightly.

"just because i didn't have to doesn't mean i don't want to. you help me out all the time, i just wanted to, y'know, return the favor." at his words, you squirm.

"thanks," you say shyly, tucking your face into his chest. he hums, and you slowly drift off to the sound of his voice and the soothing weight of his arm draped over you. noticing your soft, slow breathing, luca stops humming in favor of pressing his lips against your forehead.

"i love you," he murmurs, and even though you don't respond, he feels your affection in the way you cling to him in your sleep and falls asleep happy.

written — 250923

#luvxiem.writing #luca.txt #luca kaneshiro x reader #luca kaneshiro fluff #luxiem x reader #luxiem fluff #nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en fluff #nijisanji fluff #i know i said i'm busy but this is me procrastinating. don't perceive.

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ickadori · 5 months

Text

++ 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐎

[summary] arlecchino happens to come across you during a walk, and something about you draws her in.

[cws] fluff-ish. fem reader -> reader is a plump, country bumpkin. my poor attempt at writing a country accent. brief mentions of past violence.

Arlecchino may have seemed cold, unfeeling and ruthless to many, but in truth, she was a deeply caring person. It was clear in her actions, in the way she cared for her ‘children’ and ensured that no harm would come to them as long as she could help it.

She had offered many a helping hand to those who needed it, even to those she sometimes deemed unfit of her assistance. There was always a persistent, nagging feeling at the back of her mind, pushing her to do a few good deeds in an attempt to make up for all the misdeeds she had done in her past, and would inevitably continue to do in the future. It was an impossible task, attempting to drown your sins with good behavior, but she liked to try nonetheless.

And that’s what led her to you.

She had first saw you while she was venturing through the countryside of Fontaine, having just left the Spina di Rosula, and you had been working in your yard; hanging up the wet laundry to dry on the clothesline, sweeping the dirt from the cobblestone path leading up to your quaint little cottage, and watering the flowers and small field of crops.

She had passed by many people living lives similar to yours, simple and quiet as they opted for a more reclusive life, and she hadn’t thought twice about them… but there was something about you that had captured her attention.

Maybe it was your looks. You were beautiful; a face that would have surely turned heads had there been any near you to turn, a body that filled out your clothes nicely, the loose fabric not able to conceal the heft of your breasts, the pudge of your stomach, or the curves of your thighs.

She had found herself transfixed as she stood and watched you, not caring that her dark attire made her stand out like a sore thumb. Besides, you were too preoccupied with your chores to notice her staring so blatantly.

You had worked earnestly, never once stopping to take a break despite the blaring hot sun that glared down at you. In hindsight, she probably should have made herself known then, given you a chance to stop and take a breather, maybe even take a much needed drink, but she had wanted to keep observing you in your natural state.

It was no surprise when your eyes had eventually started fluttering and you began to sway on your feet, and Arlecchino had debated letting you hit the dirt so you’d learn your lesson, but the thought that you might break something on the way down had been enough to spur her into action.

“Silly girl.”

She tsks as she lays you down on your bed, the soft mattress sinking underneath your weight. Now that she’s up close, she can properly look at you, and she lets her eyes take in all of you, from the frizzy strands of hair sticking in odd directions, the dark tan lines on your face that indicates the countless hours you’ve spent outside, the fine hairs on your forearms, the chipped polish on your nails, all the way down to your worn shoes.

She notices now that everything in your home seems to be well-used, from the old, scuffed wood of the front door, to the creaky floors that have probably supported many tenants in their time. The blanket on your bed, a colorful crocheted piece, is worn thin, the threads more frayed in some places than others. Your nightstand looks homemade, poorly at that, the wood is misshapen and when she nudges her boot against it, it rocks wildly and threatens to topple over before steadying itself. The door to your bedroom is nowhere to be found, a ratty sheer curtain in its place instead that flows from the humid air drifting in through the poorly insulated front door.

The sound of you stirring draws her attention, and she directs her gaze back to you. Your eyes slowly blink open, lashes fluttering, and you pause at the sight of her standing near your bedside. You blink once, twice, and she readies herself for a scream worthy of an award followed by a barrage of frenzied questions.

Instead, she gets a gentle smile followed by a sheepish laugh. “Did I pass out again?”

“Again?”

You laugh again, this one a bit more hearty than the last, and slowly begin to sit up in your bed. “Yes, again. I just can’t learn my lesson, it seems — or maybe I just have some damsel in distress trait that I can’t shake.” You press a hand to your head when you’re fully seated, and Arlecchino feels the strange urge to press her hands to your face and check for a fever while she frets about you. It’s foreign, this sudden urge to take care of you, she can’t say that she’s felt this even about her own ‘children’ whenever they fell ill. She wished for their recover, certainly, but she had never been the one to personally see about it, rather sending a trusted doctor to take care of them. “…troubling you.”

“What was that?” The country twang that you speak in is… endearing.

“Oh, I was just apologizing for troubling you. ‘M sure you had lots more important things to do by the looks of it.” It’s your turn to take her in, and she feels a strange sense of pride as you marvel at her clothing, but more so at her hands and the long nails that decorate them. “You must be from the city—oh! Are you one of those circus performers?”

She bristles at the comment, and something must show on her face, because you’re quickly backtracking as you wave your hands in front of you. “Ah, not circus, theatre! A theatre performer, ah, what do they call it…”

“No, I am not an actress.” You visibly deflate, and Arlecchino doesn’t bother dissecting why the sight disturbs her more than it should.

“Oh… well, you certainly look like one.” You stare at her face with a frown, and then a spark of recognition shines in your eyes. “I’ve seen you before.” Those words have not been followed up with anything positive, and she feels a bit sullen at the direction this encounter is surely going towards. “You were standing out in the field when I was workin’!”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I remember now. Thats why I thought you were a cir—actress. I thought maybe you were watching me ‘cause you were researching for a role or something.” Arlecchino doesn’t like to label people with stereotypes, but she thinks the label of daft country girl suits you quite a bit. “What were you doing out there?” You watch her with a quizzical look, and she takes note of the way you lick at your dry lips.

“How about you get a glass of water first? I’m sure you’re dehydrated.”

“Ah, right.” You shoot up to your feet, and she has to steady you by your waist when you nearly topple over. You flash another smile her way as you thank her, and she quietly shakes her head at you.

Hopeless.

After pouring yourself a glass of water from a pitcher (she notices that you don’t have running water, and her mind goes back to the nearby well she had saw outside) you greedily down it, loudly swallowing as a few beads of water drip from the sides of your mouth and wet your top.

You let out a relieved sigh as you lower the glass and immediately go to pour another one before you stop and spin around to face her, the water sloshing over the side of the pitcher and splashing onto the floor. A few droplets wet the bottom of Arlecchino’s pants, and her mind flashes to a point in time where she had shed another’s blood over a similar incident.

“Where’re my manners? Would you like a glass, too? I can get you one.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” You refill your glass, and that one is downed in a similar manner before you deem yourself hydrated enough and set the glass and pitcher aside.

“I should be thanking you, actually. Sorry for not doing it sooner,” you throw her another one of those sheepish smiles, fat of your cheeks raising up and making your eyes squint. “Who knows how long I would’ve been out there before I woke up.” Or before someone much more sinister than she stumbled upon you, she wants to say, but she chooses not to. She’s already pegged you as incredibly naive and far too trusting, and while she usually relishes in tearing down people’s veils and forcing them to see the harsh, cold truth of the world, she’d rather you stay oblivious, if just for a short while longer.

“You live alone?”

“Yeah, it’s just been me ever since mama died. My brother used to live here, too, but he started seeing some city girl and moved out there to be with her. He visits sometimes, but not a lot.” Your mood dampens at the revealed information, but you immediately perk back up when you focus your attention on her. “What about you? Where do you live? In the city, right? Oh, maybe you know my brother! He lives in…”

Arlecchino listens to you prattle on and on, amusement building inside her as you willingly give up all of you and your brother’s information. She’s had to subject people to cruel means of torture just to receive a fraction of information, and dished out millions of mora to find out the locations of people, and here you are divulging all of your most precious secrets without a care in the world.

She wonders how you’ve survived for this long on your own — the Gods must truly favor you.

“…feel like I’ve just been blabbing your ear off, ‘m sorry.” You give her an apologetic look, plump fingers twiddling together. “Thank you again, really. I wish I could pay you, but…” You give a glance to your surroundings, a laugh following after before you’re meeting her eyes again. “I don’t even have enough to fix this place up.”

“No payment is necessary. I was simply helping someone who needed it.” There’s a mountain of work waiting for Arlecchino back at the Heart of Hearth, not to mention her other endeavors, and it’s all urgent, pressing matters, and yet she finds herself lingering in your rundown home, biding her time. What’s gotten into her? “I recommend keeping yourself properly hydrated the next time you go out to work, not to mention taking frequent breaks out of the sun. The next person who stumbles across you may not be as nice as me.”

“Of course, this won’t happen again! I’ve learned my lesson this time, honest to goodness—oh, don’t look at me like that, I mean it!” She gives you a wary look. “How about this, Miss…?”

“Arlecchino.”

“Arlecchino.” You test the name on your tongue, and seemingly finding it satisfactory, you beam at her, and it’s blinding. “Miss Arlecchino, I am formally inviting you to come back here someday and see for yourself if I learned my lesson. I’ll even cook you a nice meal to properly show my thanks.”

She’s busy, incredibly busy, and she’s never made it a habit to travel to the countryside, much preferring more… developed scenery. She has no time to stop by and come see you, a random woman whose name she doesn’t even know. Her time is valuable, and few can afford to waste it… but she doesn’t feel as though her time has been wasted so far—on the contrary, she feels as if she should be the one to dish out a few mora for having been on the receiving end of your attention.

“So? Is that a yes? You’re gonna come, right?”

“I’ll be incredibly busy for the foreseeable future. There’s many things that require my attention.” Your shoulders sag as you pout, and that feeling of disturbance from earlier comes clawing its way back to her chest. “But I suppose I can find the time to stop by, somehow.”

You cheer, a gleeful little sound followed by a bounce on the balls of your feet that Arlecchino finds to be oddly adorable, and she can’t help the slight curve of her lips.

Yes, she’s certain her time won’t be wasted on you.

#arlecchino x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff

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chrysalind · 1 month

Text

numeracy

pairing: hanamaki takahiro x reader x matsukawa issei wc: 2.7k tags: pre-relationship, fluff, light angst, angst w/ happy ending, polyam, jealousy, implied iwaoi

“Truth or dare?”

You grind the heel of your sandal into the already packed sand below your feet. The air in front of you, warmed by the bonfire, must be at least ten degrees hotter than the dark void of brisk summer night at your back.

Hanamaki knocks his knee against yours, as if to egg you on, and the heat in your cheeks only intensifies. You make a small note of correction: the difference in temperature must be closer to fifteen.

“Truth,” you reply, not even considering the alternative. A chorus of groans sound from the other students and you count eight pairs of eyes on you, sixteen in total. Most are half-lidded from drink, but Matsukawa’s, you note, as they lazily meet yours, are just always like that. The smirk he wears is foreboding.

“Have you ever—” he leans forward and you swallow. Others look on in bated breath.

“—been with more than one person at a time?”

You blink, confused by the openness of the question. “Like…sex?”

He shrugs and shadows move jauntily across his torso as he waves his hand. “Sex, relationships, whatever.”

He says it casually, like he’s asking you whether you prefer coffee or tea. Like the discussion of polyamory, is as simple and commonplace as saying you like both drinks, depending on your mood.

But maybe his demeanour is so startling to you because you’re so sorely lacking in experience. After all, it was just last year that you’d finally grown comfortable being that close with one person, much less two. Yes, two is a good number for you; even, divisible, and simple enough.

“No,” you shake your head, grateful for an easy answer. “I’ve never even… I’ve never even dated more than one person at once.” You punctuate your answer with a laugh—a short giggle that you force out of nervousness more than anything. Thankfully, others—and Hanamaki, to your right—react in kind.

The game moves on when you call upon Oikawa, who theatrically accepts the dare of taking a moonlit dip in the ocean. As he runs off toward the nearby shore, Iwaizumi, who makes a big show of groaning and standing up, stalks off into the dark after him, mumbling something about making sure he doesn’t drown himself.

Their departure pauses the game and drunken chatter breaks out among the group almost immediately.

“You cold?” Hanamaki asks, long lashes casting shadows atop his cheeks. In the light of the fire, you can see two of the three freckles that sit on his left cheekbone, forming the base of what you’d previously observed to be an almost perfect equilateral triangle.

“A little,” you admit, feeling the cider slosh in its can as you make a show of rubbing your bare upper arm.

He shrugs off his zip-up sweater and drapes it over your shoulders, blanketing you in its warmth. You revel in the feeling—in this display of kindness, of affection—that had only grown more frequent between the two of you in the past few weeks. He leans back, as if to appraise you in this state, and a soft maritime breeze ruffles his bangs. One, you think, is more than enough for you. Especially if the one happens to be Hanamaki.

Oikawa returns in the next minute, dripping wet and glorious, wearing a teeth-chattering grin that doesn’t relent until he’s parked squarely in front of the fire. He had evidently neglected to take off his clothes before running into the surf and was now wearing a soaked pair of board shorts and Iwaizumi’s hoodie.

The other boy isn’t far behind him, a long-suffering scowl on his features as he takes his previous place. No one mentions that his clothes are also noticeably damp in many places, but a few giggle.

“Now,” Oikawa says, sweeping his gaze across the circle of their peers. He pushes back a lock of sopping wet hair, the action far more charming than could be replicated by anyone else. He zeroes in on a girl near the periphery of their group; a doe-eyed track athlete who you’d never seen out of athleisure.

“Sumire,” he singsongs, drawing out all three syllables of her name, and she leans back, playfully rolling her eyes. From the way she sways, you can tell that she’s had a good amount to drink, not unlike everyone else.

“Dare,” she puts forward with a grin and a wave of oooh’s ripple throughout your small group.

Oikawa makes a thoughtful noise, the fire in front of him dialing the mischievous light in his eyes up to a ten. “I dare you to kiss either Haruka or…” He scans the group once more, never pausing until—

“…Makki.”

Your mouth goes dry as you watch the two men share a smirk. Beside Sumire, Haruka tosses her hair and laughs before jokingly dodging a kiss from the taller girl.

“I guess Haruka won’t kiss me,” Sumire sighs dramatically before standing up. She strides across the circle, the drink making her swaying look more alluring than clumsy. Jealousy roils in you stomach, bitter and acerbic and it takes all your willpower to keep your hands unclenched.

It takes her all of four steps to reach the two of you, her flip-flops stopping just short of the edge of your shared towel. She crouches down in front of Hanamaki, who holds her stare with his own amused gaze. In your peripheral vision, you can see the others watching eagerly, their cheeks high with colour. Even Iwaizumi can’t feign disinterest. Matsukawa’s eyes meet yours and he dips his chin, the evening shadows masking his expression.

“You okay with this?” you hear Hanamaki say, just a fraction louder than a whisper. You turn to him, hope ballooning in your chest, but he isn’t looking at you.

He isn’t looking at you at all.

So it’s a mystery why you remain rooted in place, his sweater around your shoulders, and a desperate, ugly feeling in your chest that only digs its claws in deeper as she leans in.

He tilts his head to receive her and you watch—you all watch—as the kiss unfolds. It’s quick at first, just a brief peck on her lips that causes a laugh to bubble from her lips. She closes the distance again and the kiss morphs in nature; deepening into something less chaste. You freeze as she stumbles forward, her high ponytail fanning over to brush his cheek as he guides her into a straddle.

Nervous laughter sounds across the group and someone even whistles.

The jealousy within you is untenable now, bolstered by the white-hot humiliation that floods your system. You know that you hadn’t imagined the growing closeness between you—the late night texts, the flirty jokes, the invitation to come to this bonfire. So why are you being made to feel so stupid? Why did you have to be here at all?

The thought finally jars something within you, undoing the petrification that had previously taken hold of your limbs. You count three breaths, one inhale and one exhale each, before you uncross your legs to stand. Mumbling something about needing to use the bathroom, you stumble beyond the warm reach of the fire and into the cool night beyond.

Without the heat of the day, the grits of sand that find their way under your feet are damp and uncomfortably cold. You don’t let it deter you, however, as you make a beeline towards the lapping sounds of the shore. Salty air fills your lungs and you sniffle, trying to ignore the burn of moisture in your eyes as you make your way further towards the surf. Thankfully, there are few other groups tonight, scattered so far across the beach that it doesn’t take long for the din of drunken voices to be drowned out by the ocean.

You only stop once you reach a lifeguard tower, steadying your weight against the paint-chipped railing as you try to ground yourself. Your phone lets you know it’s almost midnight and you have half a mind to hike back to the parking lot and call a ride. After all, there’s nothing for you here.

“Hey.”

You whip your head around to face the sudden intrusion.

“It’s just—jeez, that’s fucking bright.” Matsukawa shields his eyes as you turn your phone’s flashlight on him.

“Matsukawa,” you say, putting your phone away.

“You can just call me Issei.” His tall figure, now shrouded in darkness, comes to sit next to you on the steps of the tower.

“I mean, we’ve known each other for…a year now?”

“Seven months,” you correct softly, pulling Hanamaki’s sweater tighter across your arms. “But o-okay…Issei.”

The silence between you stretches and settles, feeling almost comfortable as you sit together and look out at the dark horizon.

“You know it probably didn’t mean anything,” he says, as you slide onto the step above him.

You brush a damp layer of sand from your lower calf and consider feigning ignorance. In the end, you’re unable to shake it off.

“It didn’t look like that,” you say bitterly. “It seemed like he was having a lot of fun, actually.”

“Oh come on,” he says, his curls ruffling softly in the breeze, “you know what Makki’s like. He’s just down for anything.”

You sigh. You know this to be true, you just thought that maybe, just maybe, that something would change because something between you had changed. At least you thought it did.

“Trust me,” Matsukawa says, shoulder brushing against your hip as he leans back. “He likes you.”

“Really?” you breathe, catching the dark shine of his eyes when he turns to look at you.

“Yeah, I mean,” the wooden step creaks as he places his weight on it, “isn’t it obvious?” His gaze flickers down to your Cupid’s bow.

You swallow, suddenly wondering if he can see the stray smudge of tinted gloss on your upper chin.

“Issei,” you begin, your own voice sounding far away. “Do you think he thinks that I’m…”

He tilts his head. “That you’re…?”

“Pretty,” you utter, just above a whisper. You clear your throat. “Do you think he thinks I’m pretty?”

Matsukawa softens. “Of course he does,” he murmurs, shifting to sit on the step beside you.

“I know I do.”

“Really?” you blurt out, cheeks warm.

“Yes.” He gives you a sidelong glance. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Your next action, fuelled by the lingering buzz of liquor, is far clumsier than you’d like. You lean towards him and clumsily crush your lips against his—or at least where you think his lips are—only to miss and bump against his jaw. Thankfully, he only readjusts and smiles into your next kiss, his hand settling on your waist as he moves in closer.

His fingers ghost across your cheek and you draw in a stuttering breath, your mind spinning as he cages you against the worn steps. He plants a knee between your legs, nudging apart your thighs and if you were any less drunk, you think you’d feel a little bit of shame for being so pliant. However, even the thought of it is extinguished when he dips into the crook of your neck and drags his tongue across the hollow of your throat.

“I-Issei.” you squirm, your chest fluttering as he slips his hand up the hem of your shirt. He moves back up to kiss you, open-mouthed and languid as you continue to moan into his mouth.

It’s only a few seconds later when a cough sounds somewhere to your right and you yelp, scrambling backward as Issei looks up.

“Hey man,” he says to Hanamaki, still caging you beneath him.

“Oh my god,” is the only thing you’re able to utter. Your eyes dart between the two men, your chest tightening as the shock causes your limbs to lock in place.

“What’s up?” Hanamaki asks, sounding entirely calm. Amused, even.

Matsukawa’s eyes land on your shocked expression and it takes three whole seconds for him to back off of you.

“You know,” he replies, winking at you before turning away, “just hanging out.”

“Can I—?” Hanamaki asks, motioning towards you and Matsukawa stands up.

“Yeah, for sure.”

You watch as Matsukawa jaunts off the last step of the tower, steps softened by the sand as he walks away. Swallowing, you stare down at the ground, your pulse thundering in your ears as Hanamaki approaches you.

“Hey,” he says softly, wood creaking with his weight as he takes a seat beside you. “Can we talk?”

An agonizing mix of embarrassment and anger causes your throat to stick.

“Sorry about before, I just…” He reclines, planting an elbow between you. “It was just a stupid dare.”

“Didn’t look that way to me,” you snark before cringing at your own hypocritical nature.

“I know,” he mumbles. “But I promise that I don’t like Sumire like that. And I know that it was fucked up for me to kiss her like that in front of you, especially when—”

You glance up at him.

“—especially when I know how you feel about me.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks and you snap your gaze away again. You hear the water recede across the shore.

“Do you like Mattsun?” he asks as you watch a small wave lap across the sand.

“What?” Because that wasn’t the question you were expecting.

“Mattsun,” he reiterates, a half-smile playing at his lips. “Do you like him?”

“I—” you knit your brow, brain scrambling to piece together an appropriate response. You try not to think of your neck, still sensitive from the light drag of his teeth across your pulse point. “N-not in the way that I… I mean, I don’t really know him as well as—”

“It’s okay,” Hanamaki continues, entirely unperturbed. “I know he likes you.”

“Oh.” You twist your fingers into the sleeve of his sweater.

“I like you too,” he adds and you blink. “I like you a lot.”

“I-is that so?” you reply, stunned. You’ve thought about this moment in a dozen different ways, cycling through different settings, details, and ways he could finally, finally say something, but never in a million years could you have predicted this.

“I think we should spend more time together,” he suggests with an easy smile. Not so far in the distance, you spot Matsukawa near the shore. “All three of us, I mean.”

He takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb into the soft flesh of your palm.

“Would you like that?”

The gears turn slowly in your head, the situation still feeling hard to grasp as all the point are laid out in front of you.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” he says breezily, before pulling you to your feet. “Take all the time you need.”

As if sensing the timing of the conclusion of your conversation, Matsukawa makes his way back toward you.

“We should really get back though.” Hanamaki says, as he leads you down the tower. “Before Iwaizumi thinks we all ran drunk into the sea and calls the coast guard.”

He keeps his hand in yours as you make your way back up the beach and Matsukawa falls in step beside you. You look up when his knuckles brush against the side of your arm and he gives you a knowing smirk.

Two is a good number for you, you think as you tentatively return his smile.

But three?

Three might be even better.

#matsukawa issei x reader #hanamaki takahiro x reader #haikyuu x reader #hanamaki takahiro x matsukawa issei x reader #light angst #angst with a happy ending #implied iwaoi #from: linde

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