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sydnikov · 2 months

Text

Being Bold || S. Jarvis

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Seth Jarvis / fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.4k

Summary: Seth has a crush on you. A bad one, and he makes it very obvious throughout the years he’s known you, though you’ve still never taken him seriously because of his immaturity and energetic personality. Much to his chagrin, you keep denying him—until one night, scorned by thoughts of your most recent ex who never knew how to touch you right, you give in to Seth’s advances.

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v (birth control usage), oral (f receiving), very slight age gap (reader is 2 years older), alcohol mention, alcoholic consumption, minor mention of violence including blood, cursing

A/N: Wow. This one is something (it’s just smut with a small bit of plot don’t mind my dramatics). Here’s the jarvy debauchery as promised ✨ until the next, thanks for the support as always!

*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.

You’ve only seen Seth Jarvis as a kid.

Well, maybe ‘kid’ is too strong of a word to describe the immaturity gap. You’re only two years older than him, but it’s just that how he acts gives you the impression of a boy.

Not a man, but a boy. And it drives Seth absolutely insane.

He first meets you the year he joins the Hurricanes because you’re friends with the social media director (he later finds out you’re close to Lottie, Jesperi’s girlfriend, as well). He remembers the night vividly, what you were wearing, how soft your hand felt against the calluses on his own. How you looked at him, amusement and softness in the smile you flashed him.

Seth was smitten. Still is, actually, because you’re around more than ever. He sees you everywhere. After games, and even just around Raleigh because you live in the area.

He tries asking you out. Numerous times, but much to his chagrin you always turn him down.

“We just met, Seth.” A week after you first shake his hand.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Well, he did. But, in his defense, he’d just broken up with her after he moved.

“I’m too old for you.” That one hurt, because that’s when he finds out you’re only two years older.

Seth is nothing if not persistent, though. He doesn’t give up even after all the rejections. He’s also pretty sure your reluctance is because you think he’s never touched a woman in his life.

Presumptuous, right? Andrei thinks so when Seth tells him after playing Call of Duty for several hours, but he recounts a conversation you had with Lottie (he still owes her and Jesperi a drink for that, actually) after Seth begged her to slide a good word in.

“You’re not into the mustache?” Lottie had giggled, taking a sip of her martini.

You were drinking a whiskey sour, which he knows because he bought it for you but had Lottie say it was from her. Your face burned red, either because of the alcohol or the question, he doesn’t know.

“No, no,” You laughed. “I like mustaches. And a nice stubble. They feel good on the thighs.”

“So what’s the problem? He’s in love with you, basically.”

“Isn’t he, like, I don’t know… Nineteen?” You had drawled, faking indifference while mixing around the olive in your drink with the little straw it came with.

“He’s twenty-two, babe.” She smirked. “Only two years younger.”

Lottie says she thinks you’re just wary of his immaturity. When he tries defending himself, Jesperi reminds him that he scored a goal the other night, pointed at you behind the glass where you sat with Lottie, and then proceeded to griddy.

Word on the street is that you weren’t impressed.

Nonetheless, Seth can’t change his personality for you, as much as he considers it. He thinks the sun rises and sets on you, but if you truly think you’re too good for him then he does have enough self respect to walk away and get over it.

But… He just doesn’t think that’s the case, here. You only seem reluctant—that’s it.

“You can’t force her to sleep with you, Jarvy.” Andrei tells him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“I know.” He groans, his chin falling into his hand. “What do I do, then?” And truly, he’s run out of ideas. He’s played silly, nice, gentleman… What else is there left for him to do, other than give up?

Seth thinks of your radiant smile, then groans to himself because fuck. He really doesn’t want to give up.

“Give her space?” Andrei suggests. “Have you tried, just… Going away?” He frowns for a moment, trying to think of the right words in English. “Not ‘going away’—”

“Space? You think she just needs space?”

“Well, not too much space—”

“Svechy you're a genius.” Seth interrupts, jumping out of his seat with renown vigor. “I’ll buy you a drink for this, remind me!” And then he’s springing up from the couch, grabbing his keys and sprinting out the front door.

Andrei blinks. Once, twice, then shakes his head with a laugh. He feels like he should warn you, then promptly decides this is not something he wants to get in the middle of.

Seth takes his teammate’s advice to heart, and gives you the space he thinks you need to process his zealous pursuit of you. He can tell it catches you off guard because he’s stopped following you around like a lost puppy, along with all of the antics normally associated with his creative flirting.

In fact, it’s such a sudden change from what you’re used to that it freaks you out. Hurts a little bit, too, because did he just wake up one day disgusted by the thought of you?

You tell yourself you’re disturbed because you miss the attention. It’s been a while since you’ve had a guy foam at the mouth for you, after all, so now that it’s gone you’re just going through withdrawals.

It’s more than that, though, and you won’t admit it to yourself but when you spy him chatting it up with other girls your stomach twists in a way that you know screams trouble.

Maybe it’s because you just ended things with your latest boyfriend - a bore of a man who couldn’t make time for you outside of his work - and the vulnerability of being alone yet again is getting to you.

Is Seth really so bad? You think about him sometimes, when you’re alone in your apartment or even right in front of him. You’ve always had a soft spot for him, sure, but nothing more than friendly affection.

You’re questioning this now, when his attention is no longer being directed at you, because you distinctly remember him getting into a fight with some other player on the ice, and that’s the first time you remember thinking man and not boy.

The team it was against escapes you, but you remember someone getting in Sebastian’s space with a raised arm, and then Seth came flying in with a fist to the opposing player’s face and a lot of colorful words. Your jaw had dropped as the referees tore them apart, his hair dripping with sweat and a cut welling with blood dripping down his forehead.

The moment forces you to think that maybe altogether, his energetic personality, a smile that never leaves his face, and the unwavering loyalty for his friends combined isn’t such a bad thing after all. The revelation leaves you shaking and feeling quite awkward when he’s around, or even just being brought up.

“Do you miss Scott?” Lottie asks you one day when you’re out for lunch at Perry’s - a steakhouse near her apartment in North Hills - referring to your aforementioned ex-boyfriend. Even his name is boring.

You laugh a little, unable to not roll your eyes though your ire isn’t directed at her. “No. I knew it wasn’t going to last when I got into it, anyways.”

“It’s been about two weeks since you broke up with him.” She says, a statement rather than a question. The look on her face tells you she’s trying to go somewhere with this. “Has anyone caught your eye lately? You’re too pretty to be single, you know.”

It’s obvious that Lottie is trying to ask if you’ve reconsidered Seth at all. It’s been the talk of your whole friend group, including the guys, that he’s suddenly stopped in his bold pursuit of you, though none of them think it’s because he’s lost interest.

“I don’t know.” You whine, begrudgingly stabbing a piece of potato with your fork. “I mean, he’s… Seth.”

“Seth, who has spent his entire time on the Hurricanes trying to win you over?” She says with a raised brow. “Just because he’s had his fun doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy.”

You don’t have a response to that, so instead you just nod. She is right, as much as you hate to admit it. Seth is a successful professional hockey player in his prime, of course he’s been with his fair share of women and will continue to do so as long as he’s single.

If that was your case you’d certainly be having fun, too.

“If his casualness towards dating really bothers you, you should just talk to him.” Lottie says after a moment. “He’s dying for you to speak to him, I swear it.”

You concede. “I’ll talk to him the next time I see him.”

Fortunately for you, that ‘next time’ doesn’t happen for quite a few more weeks, and when you do finally run into him again it’s when you’re slightly tipsy, drinking at a bar near to PNC Arena after the boys have won a game.

You don’t even take note of his presence at first, in the middle of gossiping with some of your friends who just so happen to know the players.

The gossip? Your ex-boyfriend, Scott, and his inability to make you come.

“I mean, he wasn’t bad or anything.” You say. “He had all the knowledge and stuff, just, like, couldn’t do anything. Y’know?” You’re slurring your words a little bit, but everyone around you nods like you’re making some big, important speech.

“So did you have to fake it?” Someone asks. You can’t even remember how Scott was brought up in the first place.

You giggle; you can’t help it. “Oh my god, yes, sometimes it was so bad I had to say I was cramping just to get him to stop trying.” That sends everyone into boisterous laughter, and in your slight drunkenness you can’t help but join in.

The song changes then, and it must be one everyone knows because it scatters you and the rest of the girls into smaller groups, some running to the dance floor while others wander back to the bar. You stay seated, however, content to watch as you sip your drink.

“Whiskey sour?” That’s when Seth makes his presence known. His voice murmured in your ear catches you off guard, and you jump a little as you turn to face him. “Seth.” You greet, not unkindly. “Yeah, but it’s only my second.”

Just as soon as he appeared, he’s jumping back up from his seat next to you. “I’ll get you a third.” You don’t have time to protest as he disappears, and your affection for this rambunctious man only continues to grow as he bounds back moments later, sliding you your drink with a smug grin.

“Thank you.” You smile, a little shy, a little bashful, as you take your first sip. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Anything for my girl.” Ah, there it is. You’re unable to hide the obvious roll of your eyes, but Seth’s smile doesn’t waver. “Not your girl, Seth. Just got out of a relationship, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” He says. “Scott, right? Sounds like that was doomed from the start.”

You narrow your eyes, unsure of the knowing tone he’s taken on. “And how would you know?”

“He couldn’t make you come, yeah? What a tool.”

Suddenly, your throat is very dry, and you’re taking a very large sip of whiskey that has you wincing. So… He heard you say that, then. Is it hot in here? You have the sudden urge to fan yourself. Fuck fuck fuck. Seth, of all people, should not be making your thighs clench.

You don’t realize how silent you’ve gotten until he speaks up again. “I could make you, you know.”

That has you choking, and you quickly throw back the rest of your drink to soothe your throat. “What?” When you finally meet Seth’s eyes, he’s still grinning at you, though it’s more carnal. His eyes darken as he responds.

“Come. I could get you to come so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day.”

Your reply is meek, knowing deep down inside you’re fighting a losing battle. “Have you even touched a girl before?” He scoffs, and you know as well as he does that he’s been with his fair share of women. It’s one of the reasons you’re so hesitant to take him seriously.

Seth is undeterred, though, as he slides even closer to you. You stare straight ahead, determined not to meet his eyes even though you’re positive there’s a red flush creeping up your neck as his breath tickles your ear.

He says your name, a low purr that’s almost mocking like he can see right through your bullshit because finally, he’s breaking through to you. “You know I have. None of them are you, though.”

You squirm in your seat as his hand creeps up your shoulders, grasping the back of your neck as he gently turns your head to face him. He squeezes reassuringly, and now you’re melting into his embrace as a gasp falls from your lips.

“I want you. You know that, baby.”

“Seth…”

“Let me show you, please?” Then those warm eyes are bearing into your own, and now you’re getting a glimpse of the boy you first met all over again. This time, though, instead of feeling innocent affection all you feel now is heat.

You were stupid to think the adoration he never hesitates to show for you wouldn’t win you over eventually.

Blinking owlishly, you move one of your hands to grip his arm, looking so dainty against the rugged muscle under his skin, and, well. You cave.

“Okay.”

Seth doesn’t expect you to give in so easily. He freezes, doesn’t move until you gain your wits back and pinch his thigh with a gentle roll of your eyes. “Are you just going to sit there or should I find someone else to entertain me?”

That gets him moving. It’s his turn to look anxious as he runs a hand through his hair, still processing the fact that he didn’t have to convince you more. He wasn’t actually expecting to get this far with you—quite literally, the woman of his dreams.

“Shit, okay.” He laughs, jumping out of his seat and lacing his fingers with yours. “You’re serious, then.”

“Somehow.” You deadpan. Somehow your legs are still clenching and your heart is beating a little too fast to be normal. “Don’t fuck it up.”

He looks to you, a little terrified, and you can’t help but break the irritated front and send him a small smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly even as your words are all snark. Truthfully, you’re also scared, but not of the sex, but rather the developing feelings that might grow deeper afterwards.

You just got out of yet another disappointing relationship. You don’t want whatever this is with Seth to end with the same result.

He does a good job of distracting you from your destructive thoughts, though, as he pulls you out of the bar like two teenagers trying to sneak away from their parents. You suppose it’s not unlike that same feeling because Jesperi catches your eye as you exit the doors, and he sends you such a shit-eating grin it has you ducking your head to avoid his obnoxious stare.

You suppose you do owe him a favor now after all.

For the first time ever, standing outside in the biting cold, Seth kisses you as you’re waiting for an Uber. You being busy trying to look like you’re not about to go hook up, he suddenly grabs you by the waist and smooths his lips against yours so good your toes curl.

“Fuck.” He murmurs into your mouth. “I can’t get enough of you.” His teeth catch your bottom lip, and you unabashedly moan. You run your hands up his chest, around his shoulders, and to the back of his neck where you card your fingers through thick strands of hair, tugging from the roots.

“Seth…” You gasp when he detaches his lips from your own only for him to smooth down your jawline, then down to your neck where he sucks wet kisses into your sensitive skin. “Fuck, we’re in public.” With a hiss, you pull him away from your neck and pointedly ignore the wetness in your panties when he groans at the loss of contact.

He looks at you like a baby getting its favorite toy taken away, and you can’t ignore how his desperation turns you on wildly. It takes everything in you to not let him go back to feasting on your neck.

“When’s the Uber getting here?” You ask after a moment. You’re both panting, tipsy from the taste of each other’s lips as you try to catch your breath.

Seth pulls out his phone, and as you admire the way the light illuminates his face you completely miss the words coming from his mouth.

You flush. “Say that again?” Seth grins wickedly, brings you in by the back of your neck and kisses you, then pulls away too soon for your liking. “The Uber. It’s right here.” He then wraps an arm around your waist, digging his fingers deliciously into your skin, and leads you into the Uber as it arrives right on time.

He rattles off his address to the driver, then settles back into the seats. His arm snakes around your shoulders, and you hum your appreciation as you sink into his chest. You feel him kiss the top of your head in response.

You could fall asleep, if you really wanted to. The sudden switch in mood from carnal desperation to gentle affection would give you whiplash if you weren’t so at ease resting against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The drive passes fairly quickly, and Seth doesn’t stop touching you as you make your way up the elevator to his apartment. His hand sneaks to your ass, giving it a squeeze before you slap his arm away.

“Cameras!” You hiss, though it’s with little mirth as a small smile curves up your lips. Seth merely laughs, slides his hand back down to rest on your lower back. “They don’t care. Now c’mere.”

You make out until you can’t breathe, and as you pull away it’s just in time as the elevator doors open. Your heart rate picks up, and you hide your nerves as he grabs your hand and practically sprints out of the elevator with you.

“We have all night, you know.” You giggle, absentmindedly rubbing your thumb over the top of his hand. Seth groans playfully, but his words strike you as serious even as he masks it with a grin.

“Not long enough, babe.”

You don’t respond, partly because you don’t know how to and partly because he’s just unlocked his door, and you’re too busy taking in his apartment. You’ve been to Andrei’s house numerous times, Jesperi and Lottie's apartment, Jordan’s for his famous house parties… It’s just now that you’re realizing you don’t actually know Seth all that well.

What you do know, though, is that he’s eyeing you like he can’t wait to devour you, and the reminder that you don’t even know his favorite color exits your mind as you sidle up to his chest, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit to drag his lips down to yours.

“Time to impress me, lover boy.” You hum into his mouth, fighting a shiver when he nips at your bottom lip. Seth chuckles, one of his hands sliding down your back to squeeze your ass, the other tugging your hair back to expose your neck.

He kisses your cheek once, twice, mouths at your collarbone with teasing bites that have your eyes fluttering shut, and then it’s like he loses patience as suddenly his hands are picking you up by your thighs and curling your legs around his waist.

You squeak in surprise. “Seth!” You admonish, because of course it turns you on that he’s able to throw you around effortlessly. He seems to have that effect on you.

Seth maneuvers the two of you through his darkened apartment with ease, knowing the route to his bedroom like the back of his hand. Your attempts at distracting him include sucking a bright red hickey on his neck, fully intending it for it to be bright enough that his teammates give him hell for it the next day.

Once he pushes open the door with his foot, he brings you to the foot of his bed and unceremoniously drops you. You scoff with indignation at his manhandling, though you know he knows you like it if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

A tiger stalking its prey, Seth crawls on top of you and meets your eager lips in another kiss. His hands smooth down the curves of your hips to your thighs, slowly spreading them open. He mumbles something, and you miss it completely.

“Hm?” You run your hands through his hair, enjoying the way the black strands are moussed from your touch. Your shirt is also already halfway up your torso as he helps you tear it off. “I said I’ll wear your marks proudly. My girl.” He coos, flicking open the clasp of your bra and immediately moving down to your chest.

“Fuck.” He groans. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Your laugh quickly turns to a gasp as he sucks your right nipple into his mouth.

Your other nipple is taken by his fore-finger and thumb, rolling the sensitive nub between the calloused pads. Between him sucking on one tit and playing with the other, you’re practically a whimpering mess, trying to simultaneously wiggle out of his grip yet get closer at the same time.

“Seth,” You whine. “I need you.” You’re admitting it openly, foregoing coyness in favor of your own pleasure. Yeah, so what? You like this overgrown puppy of a man, and you really want to fuck him. Pulling his head back by his hair, you eagerly slam your lips back together.

“Need me?” He grins against your lips. “Where do you need me? Gotta be specific, babe, because I can be here,” He emphasizes a quick squeeze to your tit. “Here,” The other hand smooths over your ass. “Or here...” He trails off into a low rumble, parting your eager thighs.

Based on the tortured groan he lets out, you assume he can probably feel the wetness that’s soaked through your jeans. You’re too turned on to be embarrassed, though.

“Damn it, Seth, just touch me.” You hiss, keeping his hand pressed between your thighs while the other is already working open the button of your jeans. “Fucking tease.” You mutter, though it’s light-hearted and he knows it based on his snicker.

He helps you peel off the rest of your jeans, throwing them somewhere behind you. It’ll be fun trying to hunt for those in the morning. When he sees the dainty white lace covering your pussy, he lets out his most needy sound yet.

“Shit.” He breathes. “Wore these for me? So pretty. My pretty baby.” He murmurs as he thumbs the lace, running two fingers over the soaked fabric. If you could see, you’d guarantee his pupils are blown wide.

Your hips rise at the friction, wanting more. And because you’re still hellbent on resisting him, apparently, you roll your eyes, spitting out your next words. “You knew I was coming home with you, didn’t you? Asshole.” Though your words are all snark, your tone screams laughter.

Strangely enough, the banter gets you off more than any dirty talk in the world. It’s familiar, relaxing, and Seth clearly doesn’t mind either as he merely chuckles. “I just know you that well, don't I?” The look on his face offers no room for argument.

And, well, you suppose he isn’t wrong. You are here in his bed at the end of the day, right?

You grumble something that to his ears sounds like ‘shut up’ and then you’re sliding your panties down your thighs, letting him take care of the rest as, like your other clothes, he tosses them somewhere behind him.

If you thought the sight of your covered pussy would get the best reaction from him, it’s nothing compared to the way his entire body freezes at seeing it bare.

You’d had a feeling something big was going to happen after Lottie's sly words, so you took the liberty of shaving everywhere just two nights before. You’re glad for that, as Seth is looking at the heat between your legs like he doesn’t know where to start.

Teasing him in a normal setting about not knowing how to touch a woman is one thing, but making a remark now as anxious anticipation is all over his face just feels wrong.

You do like him, after all—quite a bit, you’re coming to find.

Reaching out your hand, you wait for him to grasp it before you pull him down to hover over your awaiting form. “C’mere, baby.” The pet-name slips without thought, but you can’t make yourself regret it because the way his face lights up is a look you won’t forget any time soon.

He laughs a little as your eyes finally meet, like he can’t believe he’s actually about to fuck you and you’re going to let him. “Tell me how to touch you?” He asks, not a demand but more of a request.

Taking his right hand, you lead him down the length of your body, over your breasts and down your stomach until your hands are resting just below your navel. “You know how to find the clit?” You tease, partly joking and partly serious.

Seth scoffs like the very thought offends him, and the mild dig does its job of making him forget his earlier nervousness.

“Of course I know where the fucking clit is,” He replies, pointer and middle finger already sliding down and gathering the slickness lathered in your lower lips. “Scott is such a dumbass.”

Well, it seems the familiar, cocky Seth is back now.

“...didn’t even realize what a bombshell he had right in front of him.” You miss the first part of his sentence because he did, in fact, find your clit, and unlike your ex, knows exactly how to touch it.

Your mouth opens into an ‘o’, and Seth hums a pleased noise as his fingers work your sensitive clit into a swollen, throbbing mess. Your hips move in time with the flicks of his fingers and you don’t even realize you’re panting until Seth leans forward and licks a stripe all the way from your navel down to your soaked opening.

When you start bucking into his mouth, he grabs your hips and holds them down to the bed, forcing you to take it. You whine, hands finding purchase in his hair as his tongue laps at you like you’re his favorite meal. He dips into your entrance in time with the quick circles he’s drawing over your clit, and oh, suddenly you’re much closer than you thought.

“Tastes so good.” You hear him grunt. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Seth,” Gasping, you can’t decide if you want to keep him close or shove him away. “Shit. Seth, fuck, I’m close.”

“Yeah? Already?” Your confession only seems to reinvigorate his efforts, and the next thing you know two long fingers are sliding their way into your cunt. “Gonna come for me?”

Quicker than you expect he finds the sensitive wall of flesh inside you, and his fingers curl up against it which sends you keening. Loudly. You slap a hand over your mouth, but Seth quickly tears it away.

“Nobody here but me and you.” He grins, and just to rub it in, presses a hot kiss to your clit. “I wanna hear you scream.”

“What a gentleman.” You manage to squeeze out, and in revenge for your snark he immediately sucks your clit between his lips and rapidly curls his fingers inside you.

Seth watches with hooded eyes as your own squeeze shut, teeth biting into your kiss-swollen lips while your hands tug at his hair. Your thighs are shaking on each side of his head, and suddenly he wants you to come for him like his life depends on it.

“You gonna come?” He asks. Your walls clamp around his fingers and he knows you’re close. “Yeah? Can you come for me? I know you want to.”

Your entire body shakes all while he keeps you tethered to the bed. Your mind, though, is floating, and you can practically see white as his lips don’t stop sucking, his fingers don’t stop curling, and it’s too much but also not enough and you want to shove him away yet demand he never stops touching you.

And your high is right there, you can practically taste it, but your body is wound so tight and you can’t remember the last time you’ve let go that you remain stuck right on the edge.

There are tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you tug at his hair. Seth meets your eyes, looks a little concerned after reading the desperation on your face, and then understands when a broken moan tumbles past your lips.

Seth, a little shit as always, brings you back to the edge with his words alone. “It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” He slips in a third finger. “Bet you haven’t had anyone make you feel like this. Just me. Hopefully always me.”

“Seth,” You croak. “Please.”

“I’ve got you.” He urges. “Let go for me. You’re right there, I know it. You’re so tight, fuck, there you go.”

His mocking words echo in your mind with the low drawl of his voice, dark eyes staring at you like you’re a feast, and his damn fingers curling just right against your spongy wall.

His free hand suddenly moves, presses down over your lower abdomen, and oh. “Such a good girl.” Seth croons as you fall apart.

It’s the last thing you hear as your vision goes white, and the heat in your body explodes with wave after wave of ecstasy pumping from the tips of your toes all the way to the hair on your head. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you’re pretty sure you’re making some sort of strangled noise as you ride your high that seems to go on forever.

By the time you come back, your legs are still shaking and Seth is still gently stroking your inner walls with careful circles around your clit. He's my gazing up at you with pure, unbridled adoration and the emotion in his eyes makes your heart thump.

You don’t even realize your fingers are still tangled in his hair until you have to let go because they’re cramping, and then Seth finally removes his fingers and slowly crawls back up your body.

You’re still catching your breath when he presses a long, soft kiss to your lips. “How was that?” He questions almost shyly. His need for reassurance might have had a past you rolling your eyes, but right now all you want to do is hold him and thank him for making you feel so good.

Especially after Scott. Asshole.

You shudder, clit still throbbing as you wrap your arms around his heavy shoulders and bring his weight down on top of you. His very hard cock brushes against your hip with the movement, and you’re reminded that he hasn’t had any semblance of relief yet.

“Thank you.” You whisper. It’s definitely weird to thank someone after they eat you out, right? Probably, but you don’t really care.

His lips brush against your cheek in response, heart swelling at the gentle vulnerability you’re showing him. He’s planning on running to the bathroom to get you a towel, but freezes when he feels your hands peeling off the suit he totally forgot he was wearing.

“Babe?” He mumbles, a little confusingly, but all you do is kiss him and that shuts him up. He doesn’t break contact even as he shrugs off the rest of his suit, peeling off his undershirt until he’s more than halfway bare. Your hands carve lines over the hard planes of muscle on his chest, scratching lightly with your nails over his nipples which has him flinching into your mouth. Snickering, you make your way down the rest of his chest, past his waist, under his boxers, and then you’re wrapping your hand around his hot, pulsating dick.

Seth groans, almost collapsing on top of you as you squeeze lightly. It’s a dream come true, him touching you and now you touching him. He wants to close his eyes at the feeling of your gentle strokes, but he insists on keeping them open to watch the enraptured look on your face.

Then your other hand moves, unbuttoning his slacks and sliding them over his hips and that’s when he jerks back to the present. “Sweetheart,” He gasps. “You… You don’t have to.”

You smile at his breathlessness. “You don’t want to fuck me?” You pout, though it quickly turns back into a grin when his eyes widen in panic. Another day you’d blow him, when you aren’t so desperate to get him inside you.

Seth briefly removed himself from on top of you to lean over his bed, rifling through his nightstand drawer. You assume he’s looking for a condom and that his efforts fail when he eventually closes the drawer with a curse.

He looks back to you, all messy hair, swollen lips, and glistening eyes. “I don’t have a condom.” He informs regretfully.

“I’m on the pill, if you’re…” You trail off, unsure. “If you’re okay with that. And I’m clean.”

“Hell yes I’m okay with that.” He breathes. His cock hardens even more at the thought of feeling you raw, if even possible. “I’m clean too.” And then he’s kissing you again, long and slow and deep, and you’re happy to let him take the lead as your brain is still trying to play catch-up from your orgasm.

Seth eventually breaks away only to reattach to your neck, nipping at the skin likely already covered in his marks, hands now making their way back down your body. He playfully flicks your nipple as he does so, grins when you flinch upwards.

“Have I told you how much I love your body?” He says in-between kisses, almost like an afterthought. He’s in the middle of spreading your thighs open, fingers slipping through your leftover wetness and brushing your clit when you respond.

You help in his endeavors, raising your legs to curl over his hips as he situates himself on top of you. “You’ve mentioned it a few times, I think.” You reply, breath hitching when his cock presses against you.

“It’s perfect.” He continues, like he didn’t even hear you. “You’re perfect.” He wraps his hand around his dick, guides the head to your entrance and pushes in. All words escape you, and your head falls back with a moan.

He sinks into you with a pleasurable sound of his own, eyes squeezing shut as your warmth envelops him. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he thrusts slowly into you, bottoming out. “So tight.” He hisses.

“Oh, fuck,” You whimper, digging your nails into his back. Seth stills, thinking he's hurting you. “Shit, am I—”

“Don’t you dare stop.” You quickly interrupt, crying out when his tip rubs against your sensitive inner walls just right. Seth relaxes at your words, a cocky grin spreading over his face. “Sorry, sorry.” He chuckles, picking up the speed of his thrusts.

Like before when his tongue was in you, it doesn’t take you long before noises are escaping your throat uncontrollably or for your legs to tremble from where they’re wrapped around his waist. The sensations are more because you’re already so sensitive, so strung-up, and so eager for another release that you give up any pretenses of trying to play cool.

Your head lolls back onto the bed, all strength leaving your body as Seth happily does all the work on top. Quick, short pants are coming from his mouth, and his chest is heavy where it presses down against yours. With every thrust his pelvis is rocking into your clit, sending sparks up your body as you clench rhythmically around his cock. It’s burning you from the inside-out in the best way possible, and very quickly you’re already approaching the edge.

You try to express your impending release, but all that’s able to come from your mouth is one long moan. Seth, somehow, knows exactly what that noise means, and is suddenly pulling out. “What the fuck?” You practically shout with indignation, glaring at the man on top of you with squinted eyes.

Ever the comedian, he only laughs at your irritation. “Hold on, bear with me.” His hands grab your waist, then rolls you over onto your stomach. He raises your hips, pushing down on your lower back into an arch, and all previous complaints leave you as he’s unable to help himself and runs his hands over your ass.

You’ll think later on why him being unfazed with your attitude makes your heart warm.

“Spread your legs for me.” He murmurs, tapping at the junction between your thighs. You do as he says, and shiver when his fingers go to part your cunt once you’re open. You can’t see his face, but imagine the look on it to be one of enrapturement. You turn your head finally, pressing your hips down onto his hand where it remains touching you.

Your earlier guess was right; his pupils are blown wide, jaw hung open just a little bit at having this view of you from behind. Meeting his eyes, you stare imploringly.

While the sudden need for him scares you, you don’t shy away. Rather, you meet his desires head-on in the form of pushing your hips back against him when he finally pushes in, smothering a whimper as his body looms over yours.

Neither of you talk in favor of letting your pleasure speak for you. The new position feels more intimate, oddly enough; his chest presses onto you from every angle, and you can feel his breath every time he pants into your ear. At the same time his arms are wrapped around your waist, hands kneading at the flesh of your hips while he thrusts into you from behind.

All too soon you’re reaching your peak just like before, and the buildup feels so sweet because he’s hitting you deeper, unrelenting in his thrusts despite how your arms collapse from underneath you. Seth doesn’t flinch, merely picks you back up and presses a hand to your abdomen to keep you there.

With your arms free, you realize that your clit is feeling neglected, and as you sneak your right hand in-between your legs he’s suddenly beating you to it, slapping your own hand away and replacing it with his own.

When it’s all said and done, you don’t think you’ll ever forget the feeling of his fingers circling your sensitive nub so deliciously. Between his dick rutting into your sweet spot mercilessly and the rough pads of fingers stimulating your clit, your eyes are slamming shut with your mouth opening in a silent scream as for the second time that night, Seth is sending you into release.

He carries you through it with noncommittal praise while you’re lost in white noise and starry vision. The sight of you crumbling beneath him sends sparks throughout his body, and it doesn’t take long between the rhythmic clenching of your cunt and the pleasured sounds falling from your lips for him to flood your insides with his cum.

“Oh, fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck.” Seth loses any semblance of restraint of trying to be gentle, as his last thrusts rattle your frame and have you whimpering by the time he’s done releasing, your overstimulated clit throbbing in time with the slow rocks of your calming bodies. “So good. You did so good, yeah?” Seth is rumbling into your ear, voice hoarse and tired as he carefully slides out of you. Eyes still closed, you flinch at your sensitivity. “Sorry, babe.” He whispers, having to regroup for a moment as his softening cock meets cool air after being buried inside you.

You attempt to speak, but the only sound that leaves your mouth is a groan as your aching limbs stretch. You don’t bother opening your eyes yet, either, perfectly content to lay in your post-orgasmic pleasure and not think about the future.

Seth doesn’t let you wallow for long, however, as he’s suddenly leaning over you again. “Can you turn over? I have a towel, it’s warm.” He asks, back to shy and unsure. Now that you’re not caught up in the throes of sex, he’s not quite sure how you’re going to act. “You also need to go pee.”

Your default moods of snarky and mildly irritated is what he gets. “No.” You grumble, though it’s not mean as you bury your head in his pillow, still flat on your stomach. Having no energy to move, you don’t expect Seth to do anything about it, either.

He raises a brow at your sass, not quite sure if he should be relieved or concerned. Huffing, he makes a grab for your hips. “Guess I’m carrying you to the bathroom, then.”

“Seth!” You shriek as he attempts to manhandle you, a burst of energy fueling your efforts in trying to get away. “You little shit, no, fine, fine!” And Seth wins just like that, as you concede the battle and roll from your stomach onto your back. You glare as he leans over your torso, bringing the towel down to clean up the mess in-between your thighs.

His confidence comes back, little by little, as the banter returns naturally and your dynamic doesn’t change despite indulging in your bodies’ most primal desires. “You’ll thank me in the morning.” He grins when he finishes, sliding off the bed to bring it back to the bathroom. You follow, doing your business so quickly you leave before he’s done with his own.

When he comes back you’re in the same position he left you in, like you never left. “So I’m staying the night, then?” You prompt as he goes to sit next to you, a little teasing, a little serious. Where do you stand with him now?

He shrugs, masking his nervousness. “If you want to.” He sinks his teeth into his lip, eyeing you from where he sits. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, and it slightly unnerves him.

Your mysteriousness is also what captivated him about you in the first place too, though. With that, he realizes he wouldn’t have gotten this far if you hadn’t liked him at least a little bit. Taking a deep breath, he takes the bold route, grabs your hand, and does what he does best:

Be bold.

“I want you to stay though, like, really badly.” He admits, meeting your curious eyes. You suck in a breath at his words, and Seth continues. “You know I like you. A lot. And I think you like me too.”

As if knowing he’s waiting for your reassurance, you reply quietly. “A little presumptuous of you, yeah?”

Seth grins, and you can’t help but wonder how you were able to resist it for so long.

“So… You’ll stay?” He tilts his head, reminding you of a puppy. You go to respond, maybe with another sarcastic reply, and he seems to know this even before you do. “Please?”

And, well, you can’t deny him when he’s looking at you like that; soft, brown eyes full of adoration gazing at you like you’ve hung the stars and the moon. “Okay.” You relent, grinning happily as he mouths something like ‘fuck yeah’ and rolls over next to you.

“Do you want to shower?” He suddenly asks, after you’ve already curled underneath his sheets with your body pressed against his. He makes a nice furnace, and you’re mad at yourself for not indulging in him sooner. “Because I have a big one. It has these jets that spray from different angles, and you can go alone or I can join or—”

“Seth.” You interrupt, poking his chest to get his attention. He gulps at the amused expression on your face. “Stop talking.”

“Okay.”

It’s silent for several minutes, and you’re almost asleep until he speaks up again.

“Can I be your boyfriend now?”

“Oh my god.” You hiss. “If I say yes will you let me go to sleep?”

You can’t see his face but you know for a fact there’s a stupid grin on it. “You know, I think you’re gonna fall in love with me one day.”

“Keep dreaming, babe.” You say.

But you both know he won’t be dreaming for long.

A/N: I like this one a lot tbh. But my lord I didn't realize how repetitive writing smut is so I need to have at least a little plot established before I can just jump into it 😭 regardless, I hope this is everything y’all wanted in terms of me writing for him and more! Please be sure to reblog and comment, thank youuuuu

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snaillock · 7 months

Text

★ video games with your bllk boyfriend

started playing hello kitty island adventure so yeah you can say i’m quite the gamer

y’all would definitely be that couple. you know the ones with the matching users and icons in almost every damn game you play together. lowkey making everyone else gag whenever you two speak in the voice chat. constantly surprising each other with merch of your favorite characters. always doing gacha pulls together.

he never wants to do his daily check-ins without you, even if he has a wait a while for you to get on the game. too many times have you guys accidentally pulled all-nighters because you completely lost track of time. but who really needs to stay fully awake in school when you got shit to play with your amazing boyfriend.

★- NAGI SEISHIRO, ikki niko, otoya eita, hiori yo,

has the worst gamer rage you’ve ever seen holy shit. what you thought was going to be a chill nice hangout with your bf turned into him cursing out an entire lobby. you’ve always known that your boyfriend could have quite the… attitude problem but jesus christ the words that flew out his mouth were truly something else.

even when you two are playing against each other, you ain’t getting a pass just because you’re his lover. he will destroy you. so uh yeah no more mario kart for a while. just relaxing chill games from now on.

though he somehow manages to find a way to make stardew valley an profit driven stressful capitalist hell but he really can’t help it. it’s just in his blood.

★- rin itoshi, isagi yoichi (when he gets really into it), RAICHI JINGO, shidou ryusei

doesn’t really care to play video games but does enjoy watching you play instead. usually sits right next to you on the couch or lays in bed as he watches. he also asks so many questions about the game that it becomes borderline distracting.

“what’s that? hmm ok… so what’s going on exactly?” “who’s that? why are they shooting at you?” “so what’s the goal here? why are you doing that?”

after watching you play for a bit, he becomes an absolute backseat player; nitpicking a wrong move you made, telling you what you should’ve done instead, or criticizing you whenever you lose like he could’ve done any better???

“well if you used your burst right when it was ready, you would’ve gotten all three stars in that chamber.”

“what are you talking about?! i had to explain to you what a burst was five minutes ago.”

though it feels pretty flattering when he does get genuinely impressed by your skills or compliments you on a personal high score you just beat.

★- sae itoshi, kiyora jin, michael kaiser, reo mikage, barou shoei, chigiri hyoma

totally clueless. needs your help since he’s basically new to everything. whenever you two play together, it mostly just ends with you carrying him for every match or so. you do find it quite adorable that he needs your help so often, even if you do have to clean up after him whenever he makes a mistake. he would like to get better but honestly, he doesn’t care since he just enjoys spending time with you.

though you are starting to suspect that he’s purposely staying bad so you could keep carrying him.

“hey, i’m cool with being the support again for this match. it’s just you clear out the other team so well babe.”

★- tokimitsu, nanase, oliver aiku(cheeky ass mf), zantetsu tsurugi, isagi yoichi

please read and respect my byf/dni before reblogging/following

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blublublujk · 1 month

Text

nobody knows (2)

-> part 1

word count: 3k

genre: established relationship (hard dom x slutty sub)

pairing: hoseok x reader and jungkook x reader

summary:

a few minutes pass as you entertain yourself on some random game on your phone before he messages again. daddy: if you even think of actually going out with a friend i’ll chop their dick off. me: who said it would be a man? daddy: have fun then baby don't stay out too late!

warnings: [please read if you are sensitive] hard dom hoseok!!, needy sub reader!!, hoseok is actually sweeter this time, cheating ig?, reader gets her period, explicit sexual content: idk how i forgot this last time but DADDY KINK, thumb sucking, blowjob, throat-fucking, pictures during sex, shy awkward virgin jungkook, sexting, cum on panties, suggestive language

a.n: i'd let this hoseok ruin my fucking life. this is so fun. can you tell he's my bias >.< tbh im making up all plot on spot i wanted to explore the actual relationship first before we see anything else of jk x reader. hoseok can be sweet... he needs to fuck the reader already!!! anyways thanks for being very patient with me. see you on the next one ^.^

—> m.list

—> find me on ao3 & twt

“baby.” hoseok’s lips are warm against your cheek, hot breath hitting the soft skin. “i’m off to work.”

your voice is groggy, hair a mess, but it doesn’t stop you from flinging out of bed in a pout. “already? you said we could do breakfast.”

“yeah, well plans changed. i really needa finish this song i’m working on. i’ll be back before dinner. no promises though.” hoseok doesn’t hesitate to say the words, he doesn’t look back as he fixes his collar and brushes fingers through his bed hair. an apology would be nice, but it never comes.

this is the third time this week hoseok misses breakfast, much less makes it to dinner. somehow always managing to create more work for himself and keep busy while you rot away in the dormitory. it wasn’t fair to you, though you can’t really say you didn’t sign up for this. you knew exactly what this lifestyle came with, fame and money only meant hoseok would never truly be yours as you are his and you had to simply respect that. as sad and lonely as you can be at times.

“but daddy—”

“not now angel, you’ll be good for me right?” and just like that you succumb to his strong, firm demeanor. he digs his thumb into the fat of your cheeks, flicking your bottom lip. hoseok licks his own, watching your mouth take his thumb. immediately he feels your warm tongue, sucking him in like a vice, mouth so pliant and fuckable.

he takes that as a ‘yes daddy’ the way you look up at him while you suck on his thumb like the sweet girl you are. eyes heavy and lustful.

well, if he isn’t gonna do breakfast with you as he promised, you’ll get yours right now. two can play the same game, but only one wins in the end. something tells you that you fall victim to the game anyways, it was never yours to win.

your hands find his waistband as you look up to him with hopeful eyes. he’ll probably be late if he plays this game, but it’s too much fun to resist. plus, which man on earth is known for rejecting a blowjob. certainly not this one.

hoseok tugs his pants down, allowing you to pull down his boxers as his cock springs to life. he takes his thumb out of your mouth and caresses your cheek carelessly, smearing your own spit all over it. the things he would do for that face, so pretty and willing. and all fucking his.

you get to work and on your knees immediately. grabbing his cock in your hands, you lick and suck the tip while hoseok throws his head back, feeling you slurp him down. he fails to resist the temptation to fuck your throat so with no warning he holds a tight grip of your hair and forces your head down. mouth hot and tight around him, wetting his cock so nicely.

eyes springing tears already, but alas he’s not gentle. he fucks your throat and you feel him grow larger in your mouth, drooling spit all over yourself. “fuck baby, you’re perfect.”

you moan airily, struggling to breathe as he thrusts harder, throat stretching for him and him only. just like you were made for it.

he groans, feeling that warm wet grip swallowing around him. “just like that, such a slut for it. don’t think you deserve my cum.”

you shake your head profusely, sad-eyes looking up at him while sharp eyes mirror your own. his lips tug at the end and he’s smirking watching you desperately beg for it.

he releases his grip, spit instantly drips from your mouth, covering yourself with your own juices. it’s a mess, but you both love it for different reasons. his dick stands tall and proud, swollen and wet around the tip.

he starts to fuck his own fist, thanks to you, he doesn’t even got to spit on it anymore. his dick is wet plenty. he watches your lustful eyes crave for it, practically foaming at the mouth for it. though you are still gasping for air, you wish he would just fuck it out of you again. you want him so so so bad.

your hands try to reach up at him, but he slaps them away, he isn’t rough and it doesn’t really hurt, but the warning is enough for you to drop them back down. your hands start to rub against your bare thighs, iching to release your own arousal.

“baby’s horny?” it’s like he’s teasing you, almost laughing in your face, his cock is so close to your face you can still taste it.

you instantly nod though with hopes that he’ll help you out.

“yeah? you need daddy’s cock inside you?” hoseok taps his cock against your cheek, pre-cum smearing onto it. it’s cruel the way he toys with his food, but what can he do when you react so beautifully to it. you’re just too easy.

“yes. plu-please.” you whine.

“yes what.” he barks.

“yes d-daddy. i want it so bad.”

you hear him hum pleased, as he continues to jack himself off, he’s getting close and you know it, because his eyes start to hood and he’s breathing heavier. all the more of a reason you wish he would just shove it in you, your pussy is dripping wet for it. if only he were to see himself, he would never stop fucking you!

“stand up.” he orders.

fucking finally.

with wobbly legs you stand and he rough pulls down your shorts. a hand still heavy on his cock, gripping the fuck out of it.

“let me see inside those pretty panties.”

hoseok wastes no time to nut his seed all over the inside of it, covering your bare cunt with his juices and dripping all over the fabric. you both look down as his cum decorates the inside of your panties so beautifully, both panting at the sight. “stay there.”

the taller tugs his pants back up and grabs his phone. he pulls you in for a sudden quick kiss before he takes a picture of the mess he made. “such a perfect sub.”

with another kiss, he puts his phone away and grabs your wrists, tugging your hands off your panties. your panties sit back so prettily and wet against your pussy now. they are sticky and it feels pretty gross against your skin, but you start to forget about it when you feel hoseok’s tongue down your throat.

he finally pulls away with one final kiss, pulling your shorts back on. “go back to bed baby.”

“but ‘m not tired.” you mumble, still horny as ever. cunt begging for cock. anything.

“don’t pout angel. it won’t get you anywhere. i’ll be back later. behave.” and with that, hoseok leaves to work (or so he says), leaving you wet and lonely.

to no surprise, hoseok in fact does not make it to dinner. to your surprise, he’s kind enough to leave you a sweet text message instead though.

daddy: [attached image] miss that perfect pussy. you’re so beautiful you know that?

me: you missed dinner

daddy: that’s no way to talk to me angel i said no promises

me: yeah well, i’ll just have dinner with a friend instead ig

daddy: who?

me: wouldn’t you love to know.

daddy: you know i’ll find out anyways? like you could hide anything from me

me: you’re an ass

daddy: you are what you eat

you don’t bother to reply nor entertain his not so funny jokes, but your phone buzzes again to absolutely no surprise. however the following message makes your heart fall straight out of your ass.

daddy: i’m sorry angel. i promise to be home for dinner tomorrow. is that better?

the pit of your stomach burns, really it’s the bare fucking minimum, but you can’t help the way it flips into butterflies. a smile forming on your face.

me: yes daddy

daddy: good girl the very best

a few minutes pass as you entertain yourself on some random game on your phone before he messages again.

daddy: if you even think of actually going out with a friend i’ll chop their dick off.

me: who said it would be a man?

daddy: have fun then baby don't stay out too late!

hoseok’s messages make you giggle so hard. sometimes you forget this is the person you are with, the one you share every little moment with, and the one that would absolutely kill you despite your entire past with him for thinking about someone else. someone younger, bit buffer, close to them. the person they’ve always known all their life. and here you are contemplating doing it all over again. it’s scary how thrilling it all feels. a pawn in your own game and you don’t even know it.

luckily for you and unfortunately for hoseok, there’s no dinner and especially no friend, but there is jungkook. he’s home again, earlier than everyone, as expected.

the younger follows the same routine he has as soon as he gets home. he immediately hops into a quick shower and doesn’t come out to eat till way later. busying himself with who knows what.

jungkook is a bit awkward, more nervous, and careful around you since the whole movie situation, the one where your tits were out by the end of it while he was driving holes into them with his eyes.

it makes you a bit frustrated. at this point, you're begging for attention and he hardly budges, but you also understand his fear.

“that was good noona, thanks.” jungkook picks up his plate, rushing to wash it off and lock himself back in his room.

you hardly ever make dinner like that, but you figured it would be a great way to pass time and an excuse to get off your ass and do something that doesn’t involve rotting away in bed, lonely and horny. and all very much alone. this way, you don’t have to be alone. this way, jungkook fills the empty spot and he doesn’t even know it.

jungkook is quick in the kitchen and you hate it. you obviously weren’t gonna let this happen, not under these circumstances, and not in this way. not after everything. “jungkookie, can you do me a favor?”

“s-sure.” his hands are wet from the sink as he places the plate down, eyes hesitant to look up.

“it’s just, i just got my period and my stomach hurts. a lot.” a hand caresses your tummy lightly, putting pressure where it hurts. thankful that your period arrived after this eventful/uneventful morning.

“oh… im sorry. can i help?” he asks to be nice, not denying you a damn thing.

“can you massage it?” you plead without shame.

“me-e?” he stutters, pointing at himself, flushing pink.

“mhm, who else silly!”

jungkook awkwardly laughs. “yeah okay. lay down noona, i’ll try to make things better.”

with that your back goes on the couch while you look up at him with sweet eyes. “thank you jungkookie, it feels much better when someone else is doing it.”

“yeah, of course.” he lamely replies.

very carefully, you slide your shirt up, revealing much more skin than intended (not really though). the mounds of your breasts sit so pretty like this and it leaves nothing to his imagination. your underboob peaks through and jungkook holds back a sharp gasp.

he refocuses on his mission, hands shaking as he brings them closer. “m gonna touch you now noona.”

though it wasn’t his intention, his suggestive usage of wording nearly makes you moan. you bite your lip to prevent it.

“please.” you whisper calmly, desperately.

jungkook nods and cold hands touch your tummy. they are a bit stiff at first because he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but he starts getting a hang of it when he hears you lightly hum pleasantly.

he explores your skin, with every noise you make filtering his ear he finds what you enjoy and don’t. he rubs feather-like circles against your soft skin, thumbing over curves and your plushy stomach. you feel so warm in his hands and that makes him feel so good, too good. and the fact that he’s never ever done this before. jungkook thinks it's possible he can cum in his pants, just by doing this alone! he’s really, really lame.

“feels so good, jungkookie.”

“yeah…” he strains, hands heavier on your stomach, but they warm up feeling so nicely against your skin.

“can you- lower, can you go lower?”

his hands are barely above, around your belly button, avoiding anything further down, not sure if it is for his own sake or yours. he’s scared and it’s obvious by the lack of movement.

jungkook avoids your eyes as his hands freeze, hands weighing down on where he was last massaging. “wan— want me lower?”

“yes.” surely he knows what you mean. “please.”

“oh- okay.” the younger says nothing more.

jungkook resumes his movements, his hands going much further down your stomach, just right above your waistband. he thumbs your underwear, trying very hard to hold his breath whenever his fingertips come in contact with the thin yellow fabric whilst still rubbing patterns into your lower belly. he’s hoping you don’t hear how heavy and much faster his breathing has gotten. he’s struggling for air, face beet red. not sure if it’s out of embarrassment or his own humiliation driving him nuts.

he’s not sure what he’s doing anymore. or what has gotten into him. it’s like his dream is set right before his eyes and yet he knows he really shouldn’t be here and doing this. much less with someone like you, but for whatever reason he can’t stop.

“f-feels better?” jungkook asks, light-airy voice.

“much, much better.” you reply truthfully, your stomach buzzing warmly. your eyes take in every movement on his face. from his eyes to his nose, to the way his cheeks puff as he breathes. he’s beautiful. much more when you have him this close, and nothing is stopping you from what you do next.

jungkook’s breath hitches when he feels your soft lips on his cheek. eyes nearly bulging out his sockets because he doesn’t believe his reality. this just can’t be. no one has ever shown this much interest in him. especially not someone as untouchable as you.

it lasts no longer than ten seconds, but jungkook turns into jelly within that time. you aren’t sure why you do it, but it’s the only reasonable way you could possibly come up with to show your appreciation for all he’s done. for being sweet and patient. he’s too generous for his own good.

“thank you jungkookie, you’re so sweet.” he doesn’t even realize you’ve already pulled away and his hands are no longer feeling your heated flesh until he’s watching you walk away, hiding behind the door to your room. hoseok’s room. yours and hoseok’s room. he shouldn’t be feeling like this, but he can’t help the way his stomach twists in knots.

jungkook is left completely speechless, confused.

he shamefully walks back to his own room with no other word, skipping his night routine completely. fuck skincare, he can go a night without it. he’ll manage.

that night, hoseok arrives fairly early. well at least, earlier than usual. you’re still awake when you feel his hand on your hip, feeling his lips pecking the tip of your ear.

“you’re home?”

“yeah, got off a bit earlier than expected. did you eat?” he asks quietly, thoughtful enough to not disturb others. hoseok’s lips still softly kissing behind your ear, practically making you melt into the bed. if you could purr, you are more than sure you’d start purring right about now. hoseok has always been very hands-on, it’s what you adore about him. always making it known how much he wants and needs you.

“i did. have you?” you ask to be polite, though you most likely already know the answer. hoseok may be busy, but he never skips his meals. his discipline is insane. he’s busy, but not ever enough to starve himself. he cares about his mental and physical being just as much as everything else. and he plans on keeping it that way for as long as he lives.

“yeah. they brought take-out from that one place in downtown you like.”

that calls for your slightest attention, shifting your face from your pillow to face him, even in the dark your eyes find his. “zuki’s?”

“mhm.” hoseok steals a kiss like this, sharing a breath as he continues. “that very one.”

“lucky.” you pout, sadly with cramps still lingering around your pelvic area.

“yeah… i brought you some.” he says so nonchalantly.

the older laughs when he feels you shove yourself, full force onto him, hugging him with all your might. “really?!”

“yes, left it in the fridge for tomorrow.” hoseok pauses, fingers tangled in your blow dried hair and breathes in your sweet fresh scent. “unless you wanna eat a late night meal then be my guest.”

“well, i just got my period so...” you contemplate that damn meal, almost sorta justifying your not-so-healthy options.

“then let’s go. i’ll sit with you while you eat.” your boyfriend decides for you instead, tugging you up very gently without another word.

there’s was nothing more to say or decide, hoseok watched as you ate the meal very pleasantly, humming here and there, devouring it all in minutes. you were a very happy, happy girl. and hoseok was a happy man watching you eat so easily. he’d do it all over again if it meant he could see that perfect smile all the time.

and like that, you forget all about today and what made you upset. you are so stupid to think he could ever not love you and care for you. who else than him. even if you have heavily committed your mistakes, so has he, but he loves you, and nothing else matters.

but then again, in another room, jungkook is tearing himself up for it. even though, he’s not really at fault. is he? it sure feels like it is anyways.

at least, it felt that way after beating his cock raw and swollen. flashbacks from earlier crowding his virgin-mind. he’s so so fucked, it’s laughable. pathetic really.

jungkook tries so hard to ignore it and at first he succeeds, but then he hears a bubble of laughter coming from the room beside him and he knows he’s been beaten once again.

“i love you.”

“i love you too baby.”

that’s the last thing jungkook hears before he falls into a deep sleep, eventually succumbing to his exhaustion and overthinking mess. the crowding anxious thoughts die for the first time that night.

#hoseok x y/n #hoseok smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x noona #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x y/n #jungkook smut #hoseok fanfic #hoseok scenarios #hoseok fic

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zepskies · 4 months

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 17

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: Ready for some feels? ❤️‍🩹

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,500 Tags/Warnings: Angst, injuries, hurt/comfort and feels, tinge of spice.~

Part 17: “The Real Deal”

The first time Dean was awake for longer than a few minutes, he asked about you.

Sam wasn’t surprised. He was frankly relieved that he had an answer for his brother.

“She has carbon monoxide poisoning,” he said. Dean’s brows furrowed, but before he could start worrying too badly, Sam cut in again. “She’s okay. They’ve got her on 100% oxygen. Eileen and Andréa are with her right now.”

Dean nodded on a breath of relief, despite coughing himself. He still wore an oxygen mask, but he knew his exposure hadn’t been as bad as yours.

“CO poisoning’s no joke. Don’t let her take off that damn mask for anything until they clear her,” he said.

Sam raised a placating hand. “Don’t worry. She knows she’s got to stay put this time.”

Dean shook his head. You were so damn stubborn. He still couldn’t believe you’d dragged yourself out of bed within minutes of waking up, just to see him.

…Well, he could believe it, but he didn’t have to like it.

“Okay, do you need anything before Eileen and I run home to get you guys some stuff?” Sam asked.

He’d already drawn up a list for both you and Dean of things you two would need for the next couple of days in the hospital. Dean’s stay would likely be longer than yours.

“Nah, I’m good, man,” Dean replied.

He was still trying to find a comfortable position in bed. His back couldn’t fully touch the mattress, so he had to lie on one side or the other. Truth be told, it sucked. His head swam with the effects of the painkillers and antibiotics they were pumping him with, along with his head injury.

While his body wanted to keep sleeping, Dean wanted to see you. He wanted to make sure you were all right. He wanted to know what happened before the fire, and how you’d found out about Nick being Azazel’s son.

And he wanted to get you both home.

He wasn’t sure if he was going to get to do any of those things, any time soon.

Sam saw his discomfort and frowned in sympathy. He went over to help Dean shift onto his other side. Dean shot him a look of annoyance, but Sam was firm.

“Let me help, or I’m calling Nurse Jeff,” he warned.

Dean's lips pursed. Jeff was nice and all, but Dean could concede this time. At least when it was his brother helping him, he didn’t feel like a complete invalid.

“Andréa’s gonna stay with her?” Dean asked, while Sam helped him ease over and nodded at his question.

“Yeah. Ellen and Jo are on the way too. They’ll keep you company.”

Dean wanted to quip that he didn’t need a babysitter, but he held it in. It would be nice to see Ellen. He remembered seeing his father, briefly, before he fell back asleep. Sam told him John had gone back to the precinct to work out their protective detail, once you and Dean were eventually discharged from the hospital.

Over the last few hours, the rest of his team from Firehouse 25 had come in to see him in small groups, including Benny, Gordon, and Jack, Meg and Chuck, and Bobby himself, with his gruff worrying. Dean knew the Chief felt responsible anytime his firefighters got hurt, but Dean also knew the only one to blame was himself.

Still, he didn’t regret breaking ranks to go and find you. He’d never regret that choice.

Sam’s hand on his shoulder grounded Dean back into reality.

“Okay, I’ll be back,” said Sam.

Dean nodded, with a hint of a smile. “All right, Sasquatch. Get goin’ then.”

Sam’s face betrayed his dry amusement…and a hint of fondness. He squeezed the shoulder he held, and hesitated, almost like he was steadying himself before he left his brother alone.

“Hey,” Dean said. He gave his little brother a true smile, if one edged with tiredness. “I’m okay. I don’t break easy.”

After a moment, Sam nodded. His lips flickered at a smile.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, clearing his throat. Before they both might’ve succumbed to a dreaded “chick flick moment,” as Dean called them, there was a knock at the door. Ellen’s head soon peeked through into the hospital room. She smiled as soon as her gaze landed on Sam and Dean.

“There’s my boys,” she said. Sam welcomed her in, along with Jo, before he slipped out. The Harvelles brought food, of course, for you and Dean. And Ellen had bought some flowers.

Dean took off his oxygen mask and teased her a little. “Ooh, for me? You shouldn’t have.”

Ellen shook her head at his familiar antics. Jo came up on his other side of his bed and gave him a softer smile than usual. He tried to return it.

“These are for your girl,” said Ellen. “How’s she doin’? Have you been able to see her?”

Dean’s good humor dimmed. “She’s got carbon monoxide poisoning from the fire, but Sam tells me she’s resting. I haven’t been able to get over there yet.”

Ellen frowned, but she nodded and rubbed his arm. “Okay, well you just stay here and rest. I’ll go over and bring these to her, make sure she’s doing all right. Then I’ll come back and give you a full report. How’s that?”

Dean met her gaze with relief and gratefulness in his. “Thanks, Ellen.”

She nodded, giving him a motherly pat on the cheek. Maybe her brown eyes welled up with tears she would refuse to shed. And maybe Dean pretended he didn’t see them, knowing how she’d hate for him to call her out.

“You two are gonna be just fine,” she said. Dean agreed with a nod and a smile. She left soon after with the flowers, discreetly wiping at her face.

When the door shut behind her, Jo took a seat beside his bed. She was looking around at the wires, the monitors, the minor burns and scrapes on his face, while trying not to look at the gauze spanning his upper back.

“How’re you really feeling?” she asked eventually, when she was able to meet his gaze.

Dean chuckled a little. “Like shit.”

She laughed too, though it soon ended in tears. She bit her lip against it, with her eyes squeezing shut.

Dean faltered. “Hey, none a’ that.”

It was an effort, but he reached for her shoulder. She clasped his hand there, then she held it between both of hers. Dean squeezed her hands.

“I’m okay. Scouts honor,” he said. He wished he didn’t have to keep telling people that, but here they were.

When she drew his hand against her cheek though, Dean internally sighed. He had to pull away.

Jo felt the loss of his hand, and of him. She looked up at him with sad blue eyes. Dean couldn’t answer her. Or at least, he couldn’t give her the one she wanted.

She ducked her head and tried not to cry harder.

“Jo,” Dean sighed. “Listen to me.”

She wiped at her face and managed to look up at him again. He was direct, but still gentle as he could be.

“You know I love you like family,” he said, “but you also know…I can’t be that guy for you.”

Her brows furrowed as she shook her head. “We had something, Dean.”

“We did,” he acknowledged. He could admit that much, even as he blew out a breath. “I fucked it up.”

At that, Jo’s face shifted towards resignation. “I did my fair share.”

“You were worried about me on the job, that’s all.”

“But you also didn’t fight for me. The second it got hard, you left and called it quits.”

“I know,” Dean admitted. He thought hard, and he nodded. He was a different man when he and Jo began. He hadn’t totally figured out what it was he wanted. He’d just known, instinctively, that it was different with her. He’d wanted to try to be more for her.

But, he’d let Ellen’s warnings and his own fears take over. He knew he’d been a coward, and at the time, he’d convinced himself that Jo was better off without that in her life. He knew now how that had just been a nice justification for breaking her heart.

“I know,” he repeated. “I guess I wasn’t ready for the real deal…but you’re the first one who made me want to try.”

Jo heaved a tremulous sigh, laced with tears that she brushed away from her face. She had already known it, deep down, but now she supposed she had closure. She knew now that he loved you, for real.

“And she’s the one who made it stick,” Jo supplied.

“Yeah,” Dean said. The truth was in his eyes. She’s the one.

After a moment, in which Jo locked away the rest of her heartbreak and denied herself a flash of jealousy, she wiped her face dry and looked up at Dean.

“Then you rest up,” she said, with a small smile and red-rimmed eyes. “And whatever happens next, you better fight for her.”

Dean smiled back. He gestured at his prone form with a hand.

“And what do you think I’m doing here?”

“Looks to me like you’re sitting on your ass,” she quipped.

Dean laughed so hard he started coughing. Jo shook her head and helped him put his oxygen mask back on.

“God, you’re a mess,” she said.

Dean gave her a mock incredulous look. “Hey, no sympathy for the injured here?”

“If it was sympathy you wanted, you should’ve kept the mask on.”

Hours later, Sam and Eileen came back freshly showered and with plenty of clothes and necessities for you and Dean. And when his hospital room door opened, Dean fought through the haze of the drugs and his swimming head to wake up. He smiled at Eileen, who stepped through the door first. But then his eyes widened.

Sam carefully guided you in a wheelchair, with your oxygen tank rolling in next to you. You held the mask to your face, but Dean still spotted the edge of your smile.

Your eyes shone bright with unshed tears the closer you came. He had to clear his throat himself before he reached for your hand at the same time you held out for his.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey, yourself,” Dean replied. He brought your hand to his lips and held it there. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

“I’m okay, thanks to you,” you said, smiling, even though your voice shook. Tears slipped down your cheeks. Your lips trembled, and your face ducked down. “I’m so…so sorry.”

Dean frowned and squeezed your hand. “Don’t you do that. This isn’t on you.”

You shook your head, like you didn’t believe him. Or you didn’t want to believe.

He wasn’t having that.

“Hey, look at me,” he demanded. He tugged on your hand, until finally you did as he said. Your eyes were red and spilling over with tears. It made his heart clench, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Sam holding Eileen close. Both of them were getting emotional, though Sam was trying not to.

Jo stood with her mother in the corner. While Ellen dabbed at her eyes, Jo had to avert her gaze. That part, Dean didn't notice, because his lips pressed together as he returned his attention back to you.

“You don’t gotta worry about me,” he said. “I’ll shake this in a few weeks. Tops.”

You nodded, but your denial was still obvious as your shoulders trembled. He could see there was no reasoning with you on this one, so he just tugged you closer—as close as you could get without leaving your wheelchair or taking off your oxygen mask.

He managed to reach for your face, soothing his thumb across your tear-stained cheek. You covered his hand and kept him there, for as long as he was able.

You were discharged from the hospital a couple of days later. It was a few more before Dean was able to join you. He wasn’t happy to learn that his head injury would put him out of commission for at least one to three months.

You wished he would be more fair to himself. He’d suffered a subdural hematoma after he was struck by the beam. The doctor officially labelled it a TBI, or a concussion, and he was already dealing with headaches and bouts of vertigo.

Not to mention the large second-degree burn that was only just starting to heal across his upper back. The doctor also warned that he might suffer some mood swings, due to the head injury.

Meanwhile, you were starting to recover from your cuts and yellowing bruises. Though the carbon monoxide had been driven out of your system, you still had your own headaches, nausea, and a lingering cough.

You both were a bit of a mess. Sam and Eileen had incredible patience, and you were so grateful for their help in those first days back home in Sam and Dean’s apartment. However, you couldn’t shake off your nature to help as much as you could in taking care of Dean while Sam and Eileen were back at work.

You knew your boyfriend wasn’t used to being catered to. He didn’t like being, what he deemed in his mind, “useless.” In your mind, that was just too damn bad. He was going to be cared for whether he liked it or not.

So you helped Dean adjust where he lied in bed for the third time this morning, arranging the pillows just so. All while you ignored his crabby mood.

“How’s that?” you asked, fluffing one more pillow between the small of his back and the headboard. You’d managed to find a way for him to sit up without his upper back touching the bedframe.

“Fine,” he said grumpily. He was channel surfing on the TV above his dresser. “And it was fine half an hour ago.”

His mood was always dour after a shower; it meant you had to help him stand, and make sure he didn’t kill himself by slipping and falling. You sighed and brushed your fingers through his wet hair, mindful of the shaved and bandaged portion on the back of his head. He sure was an awful patient.

“You used to like it when I joined you in the shower,” you tried to tease gently. He shot you a glance.

“Yeah, that was before I could barely piss standing up,” he replied. You rubbed his arm.

“Come on, babe. Don’t be like this. You’ll be healed up in a couple of months, and we can put this behind us,” you said. If he really wanted you not to feel guilty about his current state, then he was doing a bang-up job.

Dean turned to you then, and you understood the look on his face. Will it really be over?

You couldn’t fault him for it because you didn’t know the answer either. You both knew that Savage & Co. burning down was likely just another battle with Azazel, not the end of the war.

And that was when John and Cas arrived for a visit, with the doorbell interrupting the silence. It was the first time they’d come together, and that told you one thing: this was more than a familial check-in.

You welcomed them into the apartment and made some coffee for everyone. Cas helped you get the mugs ready in the kitchen. Meanwhile, it gave John a moment with his son.

John dragged a desk chair over and sat by Dean’s side of the bed.

“How’s your head?” John asked.

Dean nodded, though his face said he wished people would stop asking him that.

“On the mend,” he replied instead.

John nodded in return. The space between them was awkward and quiet, except for the drone of the TV. Both men had their protective walls and their thoughts, but neither one was able to lower their guard.

When you and Cas came into the room with fresh coffee, it was a silent relief all around. You sat beside Dean in bed and handed him a mug of decaf. You might’ve claimed it was the real stuff, but Dean’s nose knew the difference; he didn’t play when it came to his coffee. Yet another reason why he hated being on these antibiotics.

“So, let’s start from the beginning,” John said. He lowered his mug into his lap and looked straight at you. “What happened before the fire? Start from the very top of the day.”

You took in a deep breath and glanced at both Cas and Dean. Cas seemed encouraging, while Dean looked just as grave and interested as his father.

You explained everything from the moment Marv came to give you his report, intended for Nick. You were going to just leave it with his assistant, but his office door had been open a crack, and you’d heard the voices within. You’d been curious enough to approach the door and listen in.

You recounted what you’d heard between Nick and the other man.

“We’re working together on this,” said Nick. “Keep an eye on the cop. Wait for an opportunity.”

“Together, huh? Azazel has his orders. You trying to take his place?” the other man replied. His voice was thin and nasal. You saw his profile, however. His eyes were dangerous.

Your eyes widened at the implications of his words though. Azazel?!

“Dad agrees with me. The guy’s not getting the hint, so we’ll need to remind him who really makes the rules,” Nick said.

Your eyes widened. Holy shit…Nick’s father is Azazel.

You clasped a hand over your mouth before the gasp could escape. A sharp breath still echoed through the hall. The men’s heads began to turn, but you did as well—away from the door and booking it down the hall as quietly and quickly as you could.

You remembered going back to your office, just to find Nick Savage waiting for you.

Dean’s grip on the bedsheets tightened when you told that part of the story. You tried to spare the details, but there were some things you couldn’t avoid…

A strong hand grabbed you and hefted you up. You felt a trickle of wetness rolling down the side of your face as you stared up into his. It must’ve been blood, but all you could focus on was the satisfaction in Nick’s eyes. Finally, they seemed to say.

But then he paused. Confusion was written across his face.

“Do you smell smoke?” he asked. You both saw it climbing under the door of your office.

It was a distraction that broke you out of your frozen fear.

On pure instinct, you jabbed at Nick’s ribs with your taser.

“After I…managed to get out of my office, that’s when I saw the smoke,” you said. Your voice became a tad more unsteady as the memories flit through your mind.

“It was chaos. People were getting trampled trying to get down the stairs…and when we saw the fire coming from below too, I barely made it out of the stairwell.”

You raised a slightly trembling hand to your mouth, but a warm hand slipped into yours, taking it from you. You met Dean’s furrowed brows and softened eyes.

“Come ‘ere,” he said quietly. You let him pull you towards him, against his side, and you blinked past the sting of tears.

“The rest you guys know,” you continued. “I couldn’t get out. Dean and his guys came and found me. He got hurt trying to get us out of there.”

Dean’s hand rubbed up and down your arm in comfort. He pressed a kiss to your forehead while you wiped at the few tears that managed to escape.

“Did you see Nick at all after what happened in the office?” John asked.

You shook your head. “No. I hope he burned to a damn crisp.”

“He’s officially missing, but his body hasn’t yet been identified from the remains at the building site,” said Cas.

That sobered you. You knew there were many people who hadn’t made it out of the building in time. You just couldn’t fathom the kind of person who would intentionally set that fire, damn the costs.

“What about the other man he was talking to?” John asked. You shook your head, but you provided a detailed description of him, from what you could remember: tall and lean, graying short hair, a nasal sounding voice.

“Any other details you can remember? Anything at all. Could be something you saw or heard, or even smelled,” John pressed.

Your lips pursed. The stress alone of reliving all of this was giving you a headache, not to mention making your chest feel tight. Your reply was a bit more clipped than you intended.

“What, other than the part where I was fighting for my life?” you said. “I think I gave a pretty good statement of the events, Detective.”

John paused. His mouth firmed, but he watched you with more sympathetic eyes. Dean saw that his father was trying to ease up. He rubbed your back in comfort again.

“All right, it’s okay,” said Dean. “You did good.”

You glanced at him and took a small, steadying breath. You relaxed a bit and met John’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you said, with sincerity. “If I remember something else, I’ll let you know.”

John nodded.

“That’s all right. We’ve got enough to arrest Nick Savage on assault charges, once we find him.” He shared a brief look with Cas. “In the meantime, we’ve got a couple of guys stationed outside the apartment building here. They’ll keep an eye on things.”

You and Dean nodded; it was a relief, but also disconcerting to know the police were watching you. A chime on your phone soon distracted you though. You reached over for where it lay on your nightstand and read the reminder notification. You turned to Dean.

“Ready for your pain meds?” you asked him. You saw the answer in the tightness around his tired eyes. You rubbed a soothing hand on his thigh. “You should eat something first though. Want some of the soup Eileen made?”

Dean shrugged, making an unenthusiastic sound. Your head tilted as you considered him. Then, an idea struck you.

“Ooh, I could make you a grilled cheese on the side,” you offered in a tempting tone. Your leading smile was just enough to get Dean to smile back, if more reserved.

“Hmm?” you prompted. “Come on, three different cheeses on some buttery bread…”

His smile became more genuine. “Okay, sounds good.”

You nodded and pat his thigh once more. You looked up at the detectives.

“You guys want lunch?” you asked. John started to shake his head, but Dean cut in.

“Trust me, you want to get in on this,” he said. The promise of your cooking managed to cut through some of the haze of his pain and discomfort.

Cas conceded first, with a nod. Though he got up from where he’d been sitting at the end of the bed.

“I’ll help,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. He soon followed you downstairs into the kitchen.

Again, it left father and son glancing at one another in silence. John was leaning elbows on his knees, hands folded. His lips drew upwards as he looked up at his oldest.

“Want some advice from an old man?” he asked.

“What’s that?” Dean replied.

John nodded, quirking a smile. “Hold onto that girl.”

A couple of weeks later, however, tensions were still running high. Dean was frustrated with his own inability, worsening with each bout of vertigo, and every time the pain in his skull necessitated a pill to cope with it. Part of it was also that he needed so much of your help when Sam was at work.

Every time Dean saw you cooking, cleaning, changing his bandages, reminding him to take his meds, helping him get around when he was feeling off…

He was grateful, more than you knew. He just couldn’t feel right about letting you do it all when he saw how tired you were. You were still healing up too. And he could only imagine how stressed you were after everything you’d been through in the past few weeks. Hell, in the past few months.

He felt guilty, and useless, and angry at how you’d gotten caught up in all this, and at Nick Savage and Azazel and everything in between.

So Dean now stewed in all of this while he sat watching mindless reruns of some dumbass show about fake ghost hunters, even though he was trying not to think of anything at all. Somehow he had nothing to do but think, even though the meds he was taking often made him want to crawl into bed and sleep.

You appeared from down the hall, looking and smelling like your nice floral soap after a shower, wearing nothing more than one of his old shirts. Your thighs were bare. Your hair was twisted up on top of your head, just asking to be taken down with a practiced hand.

Dean liked the look of you.

Not that I can do anything about it, came a dull reminder.

You came around the couch with a roll of gauze and a medicated cream for his burns.

“Okay, Dean. Let’s go ahead and change the bandages,” you said, nodding at his back.

He was reluctant to move. He was finally somewhat comfortable sitting in the corner of the couch with a shit ton of pillows propped against his lower back. And he hadn’t told you this, but a headache had been building for the last hour. He’d been trying to wean himself off the pain meds.

“It can wait until Sam gets home,” he said. “Why don’t you relax? Take a nap or something.”

You frowned at him, tilting your head. “Sam works late every night. Doesn’t it make more sense to get it over with now?”

“You see it would, if you hadn’t already done it yesterday,” Dean replied, with a dry edge to his tone.

You arched a brow at him. You'd re-bandaged the burn across his back yesterday morning. It was now late afternoon.

“The doctor said once a day,” you said. “You want to get an infection?”

The back of Dean’s head pulsed with pain. He gritted his teeth in trying to ignore it.

“You want to get off my back? Literally?” he snarked.

You frowned at him and set down the medical supplies. Your hands went to your hips as you looked down at him.

“I don’t appreciate the attitude,” you said. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“I get that, but you don’t have to take care of me right now,” he said. “You can just let me watch this shitty-ass show in peace.”

Your brows knitted together. Both of you were stubborn, if in different flavors. You tried to come at it with a gentler approach, drawing near him to set a hand on his shoulder.

“I know it’s unpleasant, but you can’t change your bandages by yourself,” you said. Your thumb swept along his neck. You really hated seeing him in so much discomfort. “Don’t you want to get it over with so you can relax for the rest of the day?”

A sharper pain pulsed behind his eyes for a moment, making Dean take in a deeper breath through his nose. He could later admit, he lost patience with you (and his temper).

He turned off the TV and tossed down the remote.

“What is this compulsive need you have to control everything? Do everything?” he snapped. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t need you to wipe my ass! Just give it a goddamn rest!”

Irritation was hot under his skin…until he actually looked up at your face. The open-mouthed look of shock, and hurt, your eyes welling up with tears as your hand fell away from his shoulder…

That’s when Dean knew this concussion was fucking with him.

There was no way he could be this much of an asshole, could he?

“Shit. Baby,” he tried, but you shook your head at him, making a negative sound when he reached for you. You walked away from him.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “Hold on!”

His first attempt to get off the couch was unsuccessful, and it made his head swim. He grimaced in annoyance, but he used the couch and the coffee table as leverage and pushed through onto his feet.

Once he knew he was steady, he thought he heard you in the kitchen. He found you there, trying to hide your face behind the open door of the pantry while you cried. It broke his heart, really.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you. His hand rested on your back, prompting you to look up at him with red, watery eyes.

“What now?” you asked. “Want to yell at me some more?”

Dean’s sad frown deepened as he tugged you closer, guiding you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. I don’t know where the hell that came from.”

Maybe the knife stabbing through the back of your head, 'cause you're too stubborn to take all your damn meds, came the dry edge of his conscience.

You held onto him as tightly as you dared while you pressed your tear-stained face into his chest.

“That wasn’t you, Dean,” you said. “I get that you’re in pain, and that you're frustrated, but you don’t have to white-knuckle it. Or take it out on me, for that matter.”

“…I know,” he agreed, laying a kiss on your forehead. “If it happens again, I give you full permission to slap me. Concussion be damned.”

You snorted at that, despite a couple more tears slipping down your cheeks. You wiped them away.

“I know I was being a bit pushy,” you said, with a sigh. “But Sam does work late. I’d feel like shit just lying around here waiting for him to help you. And I’m the reason this all happened anyway, so I might as well—”

“Wait. Stop,” Dean said. He pulled away so he could grasp your arms and look down at you. His brows furrowed, and his jaw worked. “What did you just say?”

You looked up at him, and he saw the vulnerability in your eyes. Your lips pressed together, and you averted your gaze.

“No,” he said, curling his fingers under your chin and lifting your face back up to his. He didn’t like what he saw.

“Okay. Sit with me,” he said. He guided you to the dining table, where he pulled out both chairs. After you sat, he raised a waiting finger to you, just so he could grab his prescription from the kitchen counter and down what should've been his morning dose of pain medication with some water. Then he returned to the table and sat across from you.

By the time he got you to look at him again, your eyes were already filled with tears. He took your hands in both of his.

“What happened to me wasn’t your fault,” Dean said at last. He’d said it before, but apparently it hadn’t gotten through your head.

“You disobeyed a direct order to find me,” you argued.

“I would’ve gotten called to that fire no matter what,” Dean countered. Still, that didn’t seem to sway you.

“You don’t know what it was like,” you said. You squeezed his hands, and your voice shook. “When I saw you in the ICU…”

All those wires, the newly wrapped burns, the oxygen mask, his skin pale and clammy, and his eyes closed…

“Before you got to me, of course I was scared. For a minute there, I thought I was going to die,” you managed to say. His hold tightened on yours. “But in that room, it was…it was different. It was you, but it was also my grandfather all over again. And I was so damn afraid.”

After that confession, you crumbled once again.

Dean slid his chair forward and held you close. His fingers swept through your hair after taking down your haphazard bun. He managed to pull you into his lap and he shushed you gently.

He glanced up heavenward and actually asked George for the right thing to say to you right now, because he had no damn clue.

After a moment, he released a humorless chuckle.

“You wanna know fear?” he said. “When my dad told me what you’d found out about Nick. And when I got the call that the building was on fire, somehow, I knew you were still in there.”

His fingers brushed along the shallow cut above your brow that was still healing.

“You had to deal with that bastard by yourself. That alone pretty much kills me,” Dean admitted. “And if I hadn’t gotten to you when I did…I’ll never regret that. Ever. I’ll take the whole damn building on top of me if that’s what it takes.”

You leaned back and shook your head at him, but he took your chin between his fingers and stilled you.

“But I told you,” Dean said firmly. “I’m not leaving you.”

Your eyes met his before you let out a shaky breath. Maybe this time you would believe him.

He leaned down and kissed you soundly, so you’d get the idea. Your hand reached up to caress his cheek, and you moaned when his tongue caressed yours. His hand tightened on your hip.

“Dean.” Your warning was gentle. The doctor hadn’t cleared this yet for him, and he knew it.

“Just a little bit,” he said, smiling against your lips. His hand slipped under your (his) shirt and teased the edge of your panties.

You sighed with conflicting need when you felt the pads of his fingers stroke you through the fabric. It also stroked your arousal back to life.

“Okay, bedroom,” you caved. “But go easy. I’m serious, Dean.”

He smirked and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“Oh, I’ll definitely be easy.”

AN: Lol trust Dean to push his limits there. 😅 We also got some closure on the Jo & Dean arc, some supportive Sam and Eileen, and some major feels.

In Part 18, Sam and John work together to try and pin down Nick and Daniel/Azazel, Law & Order style...

Next Time:

The charges included four counts of murder in the first degree: the murders-for-hire, enacted by Alastair Rolston.

Followed by attempted murder in the first degree, ten counts of murder in the second degree (those who had lost their lives in the most recent building fire), conspiracy to commit murder, arson, and if that weren’t enough, a charge each of attempted sexual assault and sexual harassment.

When the last two charges were read out loud in the courtroom, Nick looked visibly angry.

Sam glanced over at the defendant with thinly veiled satisfaction. Some days, it was difficult for him to come to work.

Today was not that day.

“All right, that is a laundry list of potential misdeeds,” Judge Deveraux remarked. He looked up at Nick Savage. “How does the defendant plead?”

At the prodding of his lawyer, Amelia Richardson, Nick spoke up.

“Not guilty,” he said. Though he rolled his eyes, as if this was a waste of his time.

“What’s the deal here, Mr. Winchester?” Judge Devereaux asked.

“The primary charges are murder-for-hire, your Honor,” Sam replied.

Keep Reading: PART 18

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

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xjustakay · 4 months

Text

✺ (1/5) ✺ @jegulus-microfic prompt: withdrawal — 1,162 words (fame AU, pt.5; busy movie star misses his boyfriend and makes it his manager’s problem smh) {previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4}

“Ah ah. Nope.”

Regulus’ phone is snatched out of his hand as he passes by his manager, his scowl completely useless against Dorcas who is far too familiar with him at this point.

Maybe he needs to look into some staffing changes. (He knows he never will).

“I need to make a call,” He insists.

“No, what you need to do is go thank your director and co-lead for this wonderful experience so you keep getting spoken about nicely and therefore get jobs.”

“For my own paycheck or for yours?”

“Oh, sweetheart, no matter how many movies you make, I don’t get paid enough for all this.” Dorcas circles a finger toward his face in reference then sweeps the same hand to motion him back toward the main area of the wrap party. “Back at it, superstar.”

“He said he’s supposed to be in the studio by the time I’m out of here,” Regulus tries.

Dorcas tilts her head, sucking her teeth. “Maybe don’t date a musician next time.”

“Next time,” He scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

“Aw, serious monogamy really is a great look for you, babe. You know what’s also a good look for you? Continued employment.” She waves him past her once again.

“I’m firing you tomorrow,” Regulus grumbles.

“Yeah, take a shot every time I’ve heard that one,” Dorcas snorts. “I’ll text James and let him know he can call you when he’s free. You can’t be that deep in withdrawal already, you just talked to him yesterday. For like two hours.”

Regulus flips her off over his shoulder and meanders back through the party.

He’s done so many of these wrap parties at this point in his career that he’s bored by them. Doesn’t feel the need to get drunk like the newer, fresher faces. Doesn’t feel the need to schmooze and make a big deal out of himself like the names that are fading into obscurity. He coasts in that oh so comfortable ground of being well-known and well-loved —making nice and taking photos, truly putting the acting chops he’s known for to the test.

When his phone is placed back in his palm as he and Dorcas are in the car back to their hotel, Regulus is done acting, however. His glare goes just as ignored as it usually does, because Dorcas knows he’s not actually angry with her. Even as he makes it a point to stay silent the whole drive back while she rattles off his travel itinerary for the following morning.

At least he knows the travel will be bringing him to James; silver linings.

It’s been weeks since they’ve been in the same place —all the jokes about withdrawal and he might actually be experiencing some. Made all the more apparent by the knowledge that the one year anniversary of the first time they started seeing each other in secret is days away, meant to be spent together away from work and everyone else. (They have separate anniversaries now; James’ idea. One for when they began, and one for when the world found out about them).

He and Dorcas make it all the way to the doors to their respective suites across the hall from one another and he thinks he’s in the clear. No more lectures or scheduling or any of the things he finds so much less fun about his job. But then Dorcas halts outside her door and calls over to him to make him pause before he can swipe his card key.

“What now?” He snaps.

She scrunches her face unpleasantly at him. “Don’t be cranky.”

“I’m tired, Dorcas,” He sighs.

He notices her focus shift past him to his suite’s door and frowns. The corner of her lips curls upward just barely, like she can’t quite help it. She nods her head toward his room, amusement in her gaze when it meets his again.

“Don’t say I never do anything nice for you.” She promptly enters her own room after the confusing statement, leaving Regulus staring at her closed door incredulously.

He blinks a couple quick times then shakes his head and finally swipes the key card on his door. The entryway is dark when he enters the suite, but the light in the bedroom was evidently left on earlier so he uses that to guide him further inside. Tosses off the expensive leather jacket he’s been wearing all night onto an armchair as he passes.

Regulus is half-finished undoing his button-down shirt when he freezes in the bedroom doorway, eyes going wide.

“Well, don’t stop on my account.”

Oh.

Oh, that’s—

“James.”

Right there. Sitting at the end of the suite’s made up king size bed. Casual in the joggers and hoodie he typically flies comfortably in. A half a dozen red roses wrapped in a silver ribbon in his hand. Duffel bag at his feet and suitcase beside it.

“Hi, baby,” James says, grinning brightly.

Maybe Regulus did drink too much at the party. Maybe he did get a little overzealous with the champagne while he chatted with his co-star. Because there’s a tingling beneath his skin all of a sudden, a burst of something fuzzy and light in his chest.

“You—”

“Flew here to meet you.” James nods.

“But I have—”

“Dorcas canceled your flight to me yesterday when I told her I wanted to surprise you.”

“You conspired with my manager when you know I hate surprises?”

James holds his free hand up in semblance of a shrug. “Romance?”

“Oh my god, I hate you.” It’s a breathless laugh at best, no bite, no genuine annoyance. It’s never been a bigger lie.

Regulus is halfway across the room in seconds and James meets him there in two wide strides, catching him when he throws his arms up over his shoulders. Easily, one arm belts around Regulus’ waist, helps haul him upward further when Regulus wraps his legs around his waist, too. James carefully tosses the flowers back onto the bed in favor of sinking his fingers into black curls when Regulus buries his face in the side of his neck and breathes in deeply.

“Missed you,” James murmurs, lips dragging along the hinge of Regulus’ jaw.

“You were going to see me tomorrow afternoon,” Regulus mumbles, arms looping tighter around the back of his neck.

“Not soon enough.” James presses a kiss just beneath his ear. “Heard you’ve been having a hard time.”

“I’m not having a hard time.”

“Yeah? Didn’t miss me, too?”

“No.”

“Would now be a bad time to point out that you’re currently clung to me like a koala? Because I can count on one hand the number of times that’s happened.”

“Don’t ruin it.”

James breathes out a laugh, presses another kiss to his cheek this time, then leads them both to the bed. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

Okay, yeah, Regulus is definitely not firing Dorcas tomorrow. (As if he was going to anyway).

#jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus microfic #aaaaaahhh i missed them my little famous babies #this got away from me a little but -jazz hands- Them #i love them so much #also someone give dorcas a raise #kay’s writing #kay’s microfics

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danikamariewrites · 7 months

Note

im so obsessed w the ddlg series🥰 can i please request azriel x reader ddlg where reader has a guy bestfriend who is ” a nice guy ” and he thinks himself a god for being respectful to women or not houding them for sex/ being outright a pig. And he’s like no one ever gives the nice guy a chance and tries to guilt/manipulate reader into leaving azriel to be with him instead. he says stuff like:

” i should have known you wanted someone like him”

” us nice guys do it all but get nothing back ”

” what do you even see in him, it’s ok you don’t have to lie i’ll be better to you. tou should date me instead”

and he just makes reader uncomfy when he tries to get close/kiss her so she tells azriel and he’s fuming and confronts the guy😍

Back Off

Azriel x reader

A/n: omg Az would go feral

Warnings: ddlg, creepy friend, violence, slight angst, then fluff

You were so excited to go out with your friends tonight. Azriel loved watching you bounce around getting ready with excitement. He had already laid your outfit out for you, now you were waiting for him to do your hair.

You stared up at Azriel from your vanity chair, “I’m ready daddy.” He moves to stand behind you, gathering your hair and brushing it out before braiding your hair. Your two girlfriends were brining their boyfriends so you talked Azriel into coming. Truthfully he would’ve gone if you just asked. He didn’t need to be told other males would be there, Azriel would go just to be near you.

What Azriel is not excited about is your “friend” Noah joining you all this evening. Truthfully, Azriel didn’t know why he was still part of the group. The male was truly unbearable and the way he treats females is abhorrent. But he hadn’t tried anything with you, Brenna, or Marcella so Azriel was fine to bite his tongue for now.

As you two walked into Rita’s Brenna and Marcella waved you over to the table. Their boyfriends Eric and Philip sitting beside them. And Noah and his latest victim at the very end.

Dinner wasn’t so bad. Noah was paying extra attention to you for some reason, but Azriel kept shutting him down. He could tell you didn’t like it from the way you gripped his hand under the table.

When dinner was over Azriel leaned over to whisper something in your ear, “Why don’t you and the girls go dance for a bit.” “Ok daddy,” you whisper back kissing his cheek. Out of the corner of his eye Azriel saw Noah’s jaw tick in frustration at the display of affection.

As the four of you go to dance Az makes light conversation with Eric and Philip. Noah seems to be too distracted by you and your friends dancing to pay attention. Azriel kept watching him intently. Noah aggressively pushed his chair back and stormed off toward the dance floor.

Azriel sent one of his shadows to watch over you. He had a bad feeling about Noah tonight. “I have question for the two of you,” Az drawls. Eric and Philip immediately turn their attention to the Shadowsinger. “Do you not like Noah around Brenna or Marcella? He’s weird toward y/n, I don’t like it.” He takes a swig of ale while the other two males nod.

“I hate the loser. Marcella has complained but he guilt trips her and she doesn’t want to be mean.” Philip said. “Brenna says the same thing. I can’t stand it.” Azriel leans back in his chair letting out a hum.

Out on the dance floor Marcella twirls you and you giggle. The three of you have been friends since you were teenagers. You’ve spent centuries forming a sister like bond that can’t be broken.

“I’m going to get another drink,” you yell over the music. The two of them nod and go back to dancing. As you stand at the bar you see Noah leave his day on the dance floor and walk over to you. You tense not wanting him to approach you. When Noah drinks he gets very touchy-feely with you.

Noah sidles up next to you, that too sure smile plastered on his face. “Hi baby,” you roll your eyes. “Don’t you have a date?” You bite back. He caresses your cheek with his knuckles and you jerk away. “Why won’t you give me a chance y/n? I’m a nice guy you know that.”

“Nice guys don’t brag about being nice.” You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. “What do you even see in Azriel. He’s a freak. You know we should be together y/n, don’t you feel it?” You give Noah a disgusted look. “How dare you say that about Azriel. You know you have some fucking—“

Noah steps closer to you, pursing his lips to kiss you. Your little shadow pulls on your wrist to get you away from Noah. You’re too shocked to even speak right now. You just want Azriel to hold and comfort you. You’d never leave him. Ever!

You had to find him. Right now. The shadow wraps tighter around your wrist as you run to Azriel. When you finally spot Azriel’s wings you see the males have moved to a high top table. You run full speed into Azriel, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle.

“Woah, princess what’s wrong?” He instantly wraps his arms and wings around you for comfort. “Noah. He called you a freak and said we shouldn’t be together, and that I should be with him, then he tried to kiss me.” You rambled as you looked up at Az with silver lined eyes. “I don’t wanna leave you daddy. I didn’t want to kiss him, I didn’t like that he did that.”

Azriel’s eyes widen with anger. “I know princess, I know. I’m going to take care of it. Where is Noah?” At the sound of yelling in the middle of the dance floor Azriel lowers his wings. A circle had formed around Brenna and Marcella kicking Noah while he was on the ground. “I got that, just stay with her.” He said to Eric and Philip. Azriel kissed you on the forehead and rushed off to help your friends.

He pulled Marcella and Brenna back. They turned on him, furious that a male was touching them. They relaxed when they saw Azriel. “You two have done a fantastic job, but I’ll take it from here. Take y/n home and I’ll be right there.” They nodded and left with you.

Azriel gripped Noah by the back of his neck, pulling him off the floor. “Let’s have a little chat.” Outside, Azriel shoved Noah against the alley wall. “You are to never go near her or the others again. Do you understand me?” Noah nods vigorously. His ability to speak crippled by his fear of Azriel.

Azriel took a step back staring the shorter male down. Before he could notice, Azriel pulled his fist back slamming it into Noah’s gut. He keeled over coughing and gasping for air. Next was a right hook to his face. The cracking of his jaw echoing off the damp brick walls. “If I ever see you again I will kill you.” Azriel turned his back on the male and calmly walked away.

Thirty minutes later Azriel was home relieving Brenna and Marcella. You hugged them goodbye, thanking them for standing up for you. When the door shut Azriel scooped you into his arms and held you close to his chest.

You cling to Azriel as he took you upstairs to your bedroom. He gently places you on the bed. Pulling back he looks down at you, caressing your cheek with his scarred hand. This felt right. He felt like home. You looked up at him with bright doe eyes. “Are you ok princess?” “Yeah,” you mumble out with a small smile. “Did you…” “He won’t be bothering you anymore.”

You pulled Azriel on to the bed, curling up in his lap. “I love you daddy.” “I love you more princess.” Azriel kisses the crown of your head and lays you down. “Let’s get ready for bed, yeah.” You nod against the soft pillow as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“Will you read to me?” “Of course princess.”

“And cuddles?” “I’ll cuddle you all night.”

You felt like a weight had rolled off your shoulders. Azriel had taken care of the problem and now he was going to take care of you. He is truly perfect.

As you watched him move around the room getting your sleep clothes you couldn’t help but thank the Mother for this beautiful male. Your eyes never left Azriel. Even as he undressed you and wiped your makeup off. You were entranced by him.

Crawling into bed next to you, Azriel picked up your book from the bedside table. You made yourself at home in his lap. “Now, where we’re we?” He flipped through the pages, finding the last chapter you read. “Right here daddy.”

His sweet, soft voice soothed you. After only a few pages your eyes started to droop. Azriel noticed and smirked. He reread the last page and watched as your eyes fully closed. Putting the book back, Azriel pulled the covers over the two of you. “Goodnight princess. Daddy loves you very much,” he whispers, kissing your cheek.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel angst #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel #acotar azriel

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alienaiver · 1 month

Text

Rugged

Aizawa Shouta x GN!reader

warnings: quirk-induced amnesia, canon minor character death (major in my heart tho), spoilers for... season 5 and forth? to be safe wordcount: 4.9k content: confessions, first kiss, fluff, sfw, no use of y/n, pro hero reader but quirk is unspecified, canon compliant, genderneutral reader, poc!friendly reader, body positive reader, hurt/comfort in like the mildest sense, soft love, amnesia situation, friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, started as a meme turned into something serious, something about cats, unbeta'd, flashbacks to high school days

notes: this is so embarassing to admit but i only came up with this story bcos of that tiktok/insta reel (link is a tiktok as thats where i could find the source material) about having a type that's 'rugged'. it was supposed to just turn into a little joke on that and... uh, ykno suddenly i was almost 5k deep into a childhood friends to lovers, ..ya my brain had a VISION alrighty!!!!! please enjoy a one-eyed kitty, one-eyed aizawa and interrupted confessions!

Aizawa’s leaning forward on the desk, meticulously writing down an exact copy of your notes from English Literature that he missed yesterday due to being in the infirmary… again. He’s always known that becoming a Pro Hero with a non-physical quirk would be tough, but he didn’t imagine landing himself in a hospital bed as often as he does. He’s bulking up nicely, but he feels beaten black and blue every other day and it’s… exhausting.

Rewarding, but exhausting nonetheless. He’s momentarily disturbed as a chair is being dragged across the floor, screeching away before haphazardly thrown next to the desk, wrong side facing it, and Yamada throwing himself onto it, arms leaning on the backrest. He says your name in a sing-song voice – your given name, has he no shame? - and steals a peek of you from over the rim of his glasses. You rest your head in your palm and smile at him, “what’s up?” you ask, and he hums as if he’s thinking deeply about something. Aizawa’s got a bad feeling about whatever subject he’s about to bring up; ever since he appointed himself Aizawa’s wing man, the pestering’s both been non-stop and non-discreet.

Aizawa keeps his face buried in the notes, purposefully removing himself from the conversation.

“What’s your type?” Yamada asks and Aizawa has to hold back a facepalm. You simply giggle and play with the zipper from your pencil case before you answer, “hmm, I’m not sure. But with all due respect, I know it’s not you,” you tease him and he straightens his back in mock-surprise, the conversation’s one you’ve had before. He takes a hand to his chest, “what? Not me? Well you’re not my type either!” the shriek in which he yells is a little too loud, his quirk still a little too unmanageable when he gets excited – he winces as the rest of the class turn their heads. You simply laugh and bite your lower lip. Aizawa steals a look at you through his bangs, admiring the glimmer in your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sorry ‘Zashi, I truly am, but… you’re just not… rugged enough.”

“What? I’m so rugged. I can be rugged!”

“Look at you, you’re not rugged,” you laugh as you gesture vaguely to… all of him. He takes offense as he puffs up his chest, “how am I not rugged? Because I’m not wearing a flannel in 80 degree weather?”

You hide your face in your hand as you try to contain your laughter, “yeah, sure, whatever… but look at you now. You fly off the handle like that, you’re too angry.”

“That’s a very rugged thing to do!”

“No, it’s really not.”

Aizawa has been saddled with the two of you for almost two semesters now, and he’s still not entirely used to the way you joke around. In the beginning he was always worried about you fighting and not getting along and he’d stare at you both with wide eyes like a startled cat and hope you’d settle down soon. You always did, laughing like the greatest joke was just told.

You lean forward on the table to bark out a laughter deep from your stomach, momentarily blocking the view of your notes that Aizawa’s copying. He lets out a soundless grunt at you being so close and pulls away in surprise when he accidentally smell your shampoo. He wants to lean forward again, to commit the scent to memory, but you’re already straightened back up, wiping an imaginary tear from your eye, “you don’t even want me, Hizashi, why is this always so important to you?”

This makes Aizawa freeze, terrified that Yamada will accidentally tell his secret to you. But Yamada simply crosses his arms, puffs up his cheeks and nods, “you’re right, I don’t. But I want you to want me. I’m the entire package.”

You laugh and shake your head, letting your arm fall onto the desk in defeat. “Sure then, ‘Zashi. I want you. Badly. More than anything. Please go out with me.” your face is as flat as Aizawa’s can be, and Yamada smiles proudly, “no thank you.”

Aizawa’s startled out of grading papers when his personal phone starts ringing next to him on the desk, the screen much too bright for the darkened room he’s situated in. It’s an unknown caller, which makes him hesitant at first but since it’s well past office hours, he knows it won’t be a salesman of any sort.

He bites his lower lip before he picks up.

“Aizawa speaking.”

“Ah, good evening. I apologize for contacting you at this hour, however, you are written down as the emergency contact for…” he apologetically butchers the pronunciation of your name, but gets your hero name correctly, “this is Aizawa Shouta, right?” the person on the other end confirms, and Aizawa nods before he verbally comes up with an answer.

“Well, it’s just that…” he explains your situation precariously, advising Aizawa to just come down to the station if he’s able, since someone will need to escort you home. He makes sure to remind Aizawa that you have two more emergency contacts on file in case he’s not available, but after getting the location, he’s already up from the chair before he’s hung up with the poor officer dealing with you.

From the call he knows you’re neither mortally wounded or in any kind of distress. You were on patrol when you encountered two villains. One of them turned out to have an amnesia quirk, and now you were stuck at the precinct, not entirely sure where your apartment is located. The officer informed Aizawa that you seemed calm and collected but that the last date you remember was well over 10 years ago even if you haven’t age-regressed in any way.

When he arrives, the officer leads him to one of the offices, profusely apologizing and thanking him at the same time. He’ll never really get used to the way newly appointed officers act around Pro Heroes.

Even if all facts and rationale tells Aizawa that you’re fine, he still grips the door handle way too tight, throwing open the door and evidently scaring the shit out of you, sprawled out on the couch with an ice bag on your knee. You spew out some profanities as you sit up. Aizawa immediately calms down as he sees you alive and well. He thanks the officer and agrees with the officer to sit down and talk with you before taking you home. He bows before he closes the door and looks back at you.

“I already gave a statement – was anything missing?” you ask, resting your hands neatly on your thighs. Aizawa shakes his head, “I came to pick you up – they informed you about which of the emergency contacts to call, right?”

Realization seems to travel across your features as Aizawa masks the sting he feels. Instinctively you reach out, but ultimately pull your hands back, “Aizawa?”

For a split second he lets his emotion show on his face – the way you say his last name instead of his given name, but he’s quick to hide it again. He nods and sits down on one of the chairs on the other side of the coffee table, “I was informed that your memory’s been wiped.”

You nod and look at the floor, “yeah. They took in the villains and interrogated them. It seems it’ll wear off in five to seven hours, but until then I’m stuck with my first work study as my most recent memory. I don’t feel like high school me, though, it’s just like there’s an empty gap in my timeline and not an age-related kind of thing. I can’t remember what has happened since then, but cognitively speaking, I’m still myself.”

Aizawa breathes in sharply, “well, that’s a relief. I have enough students to take care of,” he dryly jokes and the way your eyes widen make him self-conscious. He shouldn’t have made the joke he thinks as he shrinks in on himself.

“You’re a teacher?”

The way you ask betrays your emotions all too clearly and Aizawa holds back a snort. If the last of his personality you remember is high school, he gets why you struggle with the image of him taking care of the budding youth.

“A homeroom teacher, actually.”

Whatever preconceptions you had initially seems to dissipate and you smile proudly, “that’s amazing.”

You haven’t commented on his appearance; besides the moment where you didn’t recognize him, you don’t seem all too taken aback by his lack of eye and prosthetic leg. He’s relieved.

“You ready to go?” he asks, patting his lap with his palms before bracing himself to get up. You get up too and stretch your arms over your head, waiting for that satisfying pop, but it never comes. Annoyed, you let your arms falls and Aizawa smiles at you.

He leads you out of the room and as you put on the jacket he came with, he thanks the officers for their work with some polite back and forth and a bow.

The trip back is quiet as you seem to just take in your surroundings. You stop by your Agency to grab your personal items and civilian clothes that you left behind before your patrol. Luckily the offices are mostly cleared out, so you don’t have to ‘meet’ everyone and Aizawa gets out of explaining everything to everyone.

“Do you want me to escort you to your place? Or do you want to come to mine?”

The question is straight-forward and innocent; you sleep over so often that Aizawa’s spare futon has simply been dubbed your futon, but you seem taken aback, eyes wide and mouth agape. For a moment Aizawa’s blind to the confusion before he remembers.

“Sorry, you sleep over at my place a lot since it’s close to your work. I thought you might also like to see Benben.”

Your eyes that had seemed so tired ever since he arrived, lights up in recollection and excitement, “Benben’s alive and well?” you ask, absentmindedly leaning into Aizawa’s space in your joy. He struggles not to lean back reflectively.

“Yeah, she’s living with me now. She’s becoming old, though. But you’re still her favorite human, so she’d be happy to see you too.”

You giggle into your palm, clearly trying to picture Benben. She was a stray that you and Aizawa started to feed your leftover lunches to back during your first year at U.A. She was also one of the reasons you even started bonding with the stoic classmate. When you talk about the name Benben, a very bad nickname based off of bento, you always laugh and tease Aizawa about his cat-naming skills. While he defends himself in front of Yamada – the man with a habit of getting out his childish side – he never once argues against you on that subject.

Next to Aizawa, you clear your throat right as he’s about to unlock his front door. He’s been polite enough to not comment on the level of staring you’ve done ever since he picked you up, but it seems to be getting too much for yourself. He smiles at you gently, like he’s communicating with a lost child, and the smile makes you act before you can think too long about the action. Aizawa’s breath hitches and whole body freezes when your cold fingertips reach the skin of his cheeks. Your eyes look at him like they’re searching for something, and shortly after your palms make contact, your thumbs start traveling around his face, from his eyebrows to the slope of his nose and then a finger is being traced over the scar under his right eye. He can see all the questions fly through your head, the way you hold back from tracing the eye patch but stare at it like it’s not supposed to be there. He’s about to clear his throat when a thumb starts tracing his chapped lips before continuing down to his jawline, tickling his 5 o’clock shadow. As he tries to smile patiently at you, you mumble something under your breath that makes Aizawa’s heart stop for just a moment too long before racing at the same speeds as Yamada’s car when he’s late.

“It really is you… you’re just so…” you pause for a moment to swallow thickly and lick your lips, “…rugged.”

Not until you’ve had your (in Aizawa’s terms) grabby little fingers on every part of his face and given his heart an aneurysm with your words, does realization hit you. You seem to shrink and pull away to bow half-way a few times at him. Aizawa grumbles out a weak complaint about personal space and jingle the keys again to find the right one. No matter how advanced his work place is in terms of security and technology, he finds it unbelievable how many different types of keys he is expected carry for the school grounds alone. Logically, he’s aware that he’s fumbling due to your innocent advances but his brain’s not exactly acting calm and rational, so he furrows his brows and as he puts in the correct key, takes in a deep, calming breath.

When he motions for you to enter the apartment, he can’t help but observe you as you curiously peek around while you enter. You don’t toe off your shoes or step up from the genkan until the door behind him is locked and he gestures to the left pair of slippers in front of you. You let out a breath as you mumble, “sorry for intruding…” as if this isn’t your home away from home.

As Aizawa toes off his own shoes, he takes notice of your searching eyes. He jerks his head towards the living room, “she’s probably sleeping on the couch. She can’t hear very well anymore, so she doesn’t greet by the door.”

There’s a clear sort of heartbreak in your eyes that Aizawa recognizes, before you nod and walk in the direction of the living room. While your memory might be gone for the moment, it seems there’s muscle memory still intact as you purposefully step over the loose floorboard he always warns guests about. He smiles at that. Benben seems to spot you from her pillow on the couch because no sooner than you enter the room, he starts hearing the hoarse bleating of the senior kitty in there. She must’ve stayed up when Aizawa suddenly left, since it’s out of routine. She’s never been able to meow properly, which enchanted you since she first bleated at you for a bite of your convenience store-bought onigiri back when the two of you met her for the first time.

He hears you coo at her and can only imagine you both before he turns the other corner for his office to shut down the computer for the night. He quickly rejoins you and finds you with Benben on your lap, purring and headbutting your hands to her heart’s contents. When his eye travel higher to meet yours, he’s taken aback momentarily at the strained smile and wet eyes.

“She looks so loved.” you try to explain, and Aizawa can’t hold back the blush from the compliment. She does look loved now, a little on the fuller side (not by a lot, as her physical health is very important to Aizawa), her coat is shiny despite the coarseness that age brings, and she no longer has that stubborn eye infection it took Aizawa several years to treat out of her; she’s missing an eye now as a result, but she’s healthy.

You look around his living room, smiling and heaving in breaths at all the external proofs for her love; she has a pet staircase to both the windowsill, couch and the dining chair next to his; there are three different cat towers and several cat shelves for her to perch on although they’ve rarely been used for several years now. Aizawa can’t bear to take them down – what if she wants to go on one last adventure to the shelf highway he built for her close to the ceiling? It obviously wouldn’t be safe for her to do so, but robbing her of the options feels cruel to his heart.

When you pet her behind her ear and Aizawa situates himself on the floor pillow, you giggle, “you match.”

You’re referring to the missing eyes and while Aizawa takes no offense from the comment, he can’t help but snort at the straightforward observation. It’s very like you.

“How did you lose it?”

You don’t remove your eyes from Benben as you ask and from the shaky lilt to your voice, he knows you’re afraid of the answer. He’s afraid of telling you, too.

So much bad has happened during those years – you were there during his low points after, and asking that question is like removing the experiences you’ve shared. The grief you’ve suffered.

But he knows you want to know. Before he can answer, you continue, “can you tell me everything? About you… Oboro and Hizashi, too. I was informed it was only you, Hizashi and my mom on my emergency contact list. I know it’s not supposed to be miles long but… yeah…” you trail off and Aizawa’s grateful that you’re not looking at him. He’s not sure he’s able to control his face right now; and the emotion he’s showing wouldn’t be remotely close to soothing for you.

“Uh,” he jerks and clears his throat several times to stall, “when did you say your memory would be back?” he asks instead even if he’s aware of the answer.

You look up and hum thoughtfully, “they said five to seven hours around … two hours ago? So…” you count on your fingers and despite everything, Aizawa huffs out a soundless laugh, “three to five hours? Give or take.”

He inhales sharply. He can’t drive you off for that long, even if he used going to bed as an excuse. You’d just toss and turn in fear of what you’d come to remember.

So he tells you. He retells every painful memory with clear objectivity, pausing to let you process each one, seeing the light slowly dissipate in your eyes for every terrible incident. When he reaches present day, he inhales slowly and holds his breath for a moment to control his own emotions.

You’ve stopped petting Benben who’s sound asleep on your lap now, your hands hanging like lifeless limbs by your side. Aizawa then clears his throat, “you were scouted. In third year. ‘Zashi opened a radio station shortly after graduation. Oboro’s mom still invites us for hotpot for his birthday every year despite the mismatch in dish and weather,” you both laugh at that one – of course she insists on his favorite dish on such an important day. An image of the four of you huddled around, sweating over a pot of delicious food has you throwing your head back in sincere laughter, “you have a prodigy; you inspired me to take a pupil on as well, and he’s graduating this spring… I, uh… I use eye drops now.”

The last tidbit of information makes you turn your head so fast you almost get whiplash. Then, your expression turns stern, “didn’t I tell you! Didn’t I tell you to be careful!” you reprimand and he almost rolls his eye at you. Almost.

You shake your head at him and focus back on Benben, a little more color on you again as the mood has successfully shifted. He’s unsure if you’re pretending to be fine for his sake or if he actually succeeded in making you feel better, but he can’t stifle the yawn that comes out of him as soon as he feels relief.

You look up apologetically, “oh my God I’m so sorry, I’ve kept you up haven’t I? Please, you can just go to bed, I’ll be okay!”

Aizawa wants to argue but he also can’t fight the creaky ache he feels in his bones. He went straight from a night shift to school, napped in the teacher’s lounge and then home to grade papers. He’s dead-tired.

He gets up to carry his futon into the living room and set yours up in his bedroom. Usually, you sleep in the same, bare room as him and Benben, but he feels it might be too much for you without your memories, even if you sleep on separate futons with space in between. You make a joke about the futons but then, in a soft voice admit, “I think it’s nice you sleep on something accessible for Benben…” there’s a warm tone to your voice that makes him blush heavily before he pushes you out of his living room.

“I’ll sleep out here, you take the bedroom.”

You meekly argue about taking his bedroom, but he shuts you down in the same way he’s always done, and urges you to carry Benben in with you. You agree to have the door ajar in case Benben wants to walk around, and you bow your head when you bid him goodnight. Aizawa lets the light in the hallway stay on.

////

You wake up with a hitched breath and sweat on your brow, unsure when you managed to fall asleep. Disoriented, you take in Aizawa’s bedroom; you were supposed to sleep home tonight after your shift though, not to mention that Aizawa’s futon isn’t laid out next to yours. It takes you a moment to gather your bearings until it all comes back to you. You’d lost your memory.

You’d lost yourself. You hug your arms around you as the feeling of being lost still sits heavy in your body and makes you shiver. Seeing Aizawa was terrifying; you’d no idea of the obvious horrors he’d had to endure. You didn’t remember your best friend’s death.

For a moment you control your breathing, making yourself calm down as best as you’re able. It makes sense why Aizawa decided to sleep in the living room, if the last memory of him was a pimple-y teenager and not the gruff man he is today. You close your eyes and think back to right before you entered the apartment.

You roll onto your stomach and hide your face in your hands, letting out a drawn-out flustered groan. Without thinking, you kick your legs on the bedding to alleviate the embarrassment that’s coursing through you at your own actions. You’d just went all up in his face! The sensation of his stubble underneath your fingertips, his warm breath and his chapped but so, so kissable lips.

No!

You groan again, drowning in your one-sided misery of a crush. Your honed Pro Hero senses are completely dulled by your pining, so when Aizawa suddenly throws open the door and asks if you are alright, you screech as you lift your head from the pillow, “Shouta!”

“Shit, sorry, I heard you moving around so I thought you might have a nightmare,” he hurries to explain, secretly relieved to hear you say his given name again. He frowns when he can’t see your face with your back turned to him. Still frozen, you barely breathe before he continues, “...you are alright, right?”

Making a grimace and with no interest in facing him right now, you choke out “mhmyepdefinitelyeverythingsperfect!” in one single breath before you’re forced to inhale deeply. You hear Aizawa’s metallic foot as he walks towards your futon and hear the rustling of his clothes as he bends down in a squat next to you, “you don’t sound perfectly fine to me, though. Do you have a fever? Is it an aftershock from getting your memories back?”

Being the perfectly rational man that he is, he oversteps any boundaries to quickly check your temperature with his palm. Embarrassment can come after he’s made sure you’re okay.

You push his hand away weakly, still looking pointedly at the wall in front of you, letting out a strained laugh, “heehee, I’m just… you’re right, it must be an aftershock, right? Nothing else!”

He lets you swat his hand away without much resistance but stays where he is, letting the silence hang over you both for a minute. Suddenly, he croaks out all hoarse and desperate, “Just tell me if there’s anything, please.”

Your shoulders fall at the voice. Aizawa’s the opposite of having a heart on a sleeve, but you’ve been with him through enough tragedies to know he must be scared shitless right now. Whenever you or Yamada is even remotely bruised, he fusses over you in his own, annoyed way, until he finds you sufficiently healed. You sigh before you let your head fall back onto your pillow, a short moment to gather your thoughts and feelings before having to face him.

It must’ve been a lot for him, when you asked him to recount the years you’d momentarily lost. It would’ve been better to let it be, but he knew you so well and knew you wouldn’t let it go. Curiosity kills the cat, right?

With heavy and slow movement, you turn around so that you’re facing him, hoping your expression won’t betray your real emotions. You sigh and reach out for his hand. It’s shaking but as soon as your warm fingers make contact, he flinches before he relaxes.

Then, he grunts like he’s annoyed and chastises you for worrying him. You giggle, “I’m sorry, you’re tired, right?” you ask, knowing his schedule this week is packed. He usually leaves little wiggle room for emergencies, however many he encounters.

Before he can reply, you pull at his hand and he topples over, half on the futon and half on the floor, on his knees. You laugh and pull him even closer to you, hoping your beating heart isn’t as loud as it feels.

You and Aizawa have cuddled before; loneliness and grief has made you carve out comfort in each other, but nothing else have ever been spoken aloud. No kissing, no romantic notions to trace back to. Having a one-sided crush since high school feels deafening right now, when all the years travel back to you after what only amounts to a moment without them.

You want to tell him how you feel; losing your memories made you realize how much you’d like for him to comfort you with kisses if anything should ever happen; how you’d like for him to hold you without holding back.

He grumbles where his head is rested in your neck after he’s settled, but he makes no effort to move. You nuzzle into the mane of hair and breathe in his scent; it’s a lavender-scented shampoo that Yamada insists on buying for him. He never accepts it without complaining, but he also never showers without using it. There’s a spare in your bathroom, at the Agency’s bathroom and at his teacher’s dorm at U.A.

“Y’know, I was really surprised for a moment that you became a teacher.”

He makes no movement, but you know he’s listening.

“But as soon as I thought about it, it made perfect sense. You care so much it sometimes hurts to watch…”

You feel his fist tighten around your bedding, but he stays otherwise quiet still.

“You hurt watching me, too, right? How we both have a habit of bending over backwards for what we perceive is right.”

You start dragging your hands through his hair, letting out a sigh.

“I like that we know each other so well. I like how after so many years, you’re still right here in my arms…”

You pause as his upper arm snakes around you, a sharp exhale against your neck.

“You’ve never dated anyone. At least, not anyone you’d tell me about, so I have no idea where this will lead me to but,”

You take a moment to gather your nerves. There’s really no backing down now. Even if you regret it, your words have already given your feelings away; there’s nothing you can take back.

There’s nothing you want to take back.

You’re about to continue your confession when Aizawa pushes against your neck, his warm lips, soft despite the dryness, presses against your pulse point. You can hear your heartbeat so loud in your ear that the rustling of the sheets from Benben is indistinguishable to you, the only sensation you’re able to take in being Aizawa’s lips as they briefly pull away from your neck, only to push back higher up, closer to your jaw.

You whine and pout, but it’s shaky and without much force. You want to protest, scold him for interrupting you but suddenly he lifts his head to face you, and you’re faced with wide eyes and blown pupils. He steals a glance at your lips before he licks his own, pink tongue peeking out. You feel like a cornered prey, one that’s about to be devoured by a beast. When he hovers mere millimeters above your lips he pauses as if to ask for permission and the sigh you let out makes him know that everything’s okay. That everything he’s ever wanted, wished for, dreamed of, is real.

That losing your memory for a second made you desperate to make more meaningful ones.

And you kiss.

While curiosity did kill the cat, satisfaction definitely brought it back.

#its been a while since i wrote and posted a full blown fic so im suddenly nervous........ in like the way i used to be when i started! its #little fun to feel that way again after 30+ works!!!#aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #bnha fluff #aizawa shouta fluff #reader insert #nohr.writing #nohr.bnha #i honestly MOSTLY hope that this is coherent. i really did shift my perspective half way in bcos i like to flesh out pain apparently KJDASK #ilysm yall<3333 hope u enjoy this smooching offering

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itjazzbicch · 2 years

Text

Who’s Your Papí?

Pairing: Dominik Mysterio x Fem Reader

Summary: Rey Mysterio comes to the reader who is now Dominik’s ex, hoping that she will be able to talk sense into him. Heartbroken, she kindly refuses, but ends up running into Dominik as he overheard them. Following, Rhea catches small wind and after leading to even more conflict, the reader sparks Dominik after making him jealous…

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ ONLY!) (Rough sex, unprotected sex, swearing)

Word Count: 3.5k

Tag List: @demonqueen29 @peachy-satan00 @new-zealand-chic @crowleysqueenofhell @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @thatpanpal @damnnhausen @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @linziland13 @xxx-jazz-xxx @writtingrose @legit9thlunaticwarrior @seeingstarks @rubyred1980

I DO OWN THIS GIF

“Niña, please. You’re the last person who I can go to.”

I had all of the respect in the world for Señor Mysterio, but I couldn’t do this. Dominik and I have dated for a long time, just for him leave me along with betraying his family.

He broke my heart into a million pieces and just hearing his name made me reminisce, all of this putting me into a dark world.

“Señor, I know why you came to me,” Taking a deep breath, I had to ready myself because I knew he’d find my response disappointing, “I can’t even imagine how hard this is on you, but I can’t do it. I’m sorry, I can’t even face him.”

Great, here came tears and after losing tonight, he was pretty much desperate, holding his hands to his chest while pleading:

“Please, Y/N. He’s just being brainwashed! And I know, I know that he still loves you. Our family isn’t making a difference, but you’re different. You may actually stand a chance.”

“I’m sorry I can’t even think about him, let alone face him,” I sniffled softly, wiping my eyes, hating that it had to come down to this, “I truly am sorry, but I can’t.”

I couldn’t talk about this anymore, taking my suitcase and heading out. I should’ve known that something like this would happen, it was just so hard to accept.

So out of it while heading to the parking lot and to my car, I jumped hard when I went to get in the car but someone grabbed my door.

“Hey,” Dominik said softly, able to tell how he was nervous too, he dumped me and basically rubbed Rhea all in my face, “You and I need to talk.”

“Talk? What is there to talk about?” Shoving his hand away, I shot my suitcase in and slammed the door, my emotions already getting the best of me.

“Easy,” He tried calming me, saying softly, “I know things are complicated, but I saw you talking to my dad and-“

“And nothing because I respect him, I really do, but I’m done. Done with all of this. You completely changed, threw all of the years we had together down the trash and I can’t.”

My voice started to break from fighting tears, opening the door again to leave, just for him to hold it in place:

“Will you just listen to me for a second, Y/N? Geez!”

“No, I won’t,” I glared, taking a shot at him, “Besides, how would your new, mamí, feel about this huh?”

“It’s not like that,” He tried laughing off, “I’m only doing that to get to my dad.”

“Which you shouldn’t even be doing!” I stressed, shaking my head, “If you had issues with your dad, you should’ve talked about it instead of pulling a bitch move.”

“A bitch move?” He took offense to that, looking at me as if I were crazy.

“A bitch move,” I repeated, throwing the last words he said to me, “I don’t want you anymore. I’m changing my life and you won’t be apart of it.”

“It’s like that, hermosa?” That was the one word that always got me. He’d call me gorgeous all the time, like a pet name, even said it in the same soft, sweet voice he always had for me.

This time? I wasn’t letting it get to me, hopping in the car with a scoff:

“Yeah. It’s like that.”

It was so nice to drive back to the hotel in tears, a dark cloud over my head for an entire week, praying that something at Raw would maybe bring some light into my life that I needed more than anything.

“Hey, niña-“

Here we go again. Señor Mysterio was hanging in the hall with Dolph Ziggler, picking my head up for them to show the sad look on my face and that I didn’t want to be bothered.

“Hey,” Dolph whispered softly and nudged him, “Go on ahead, I got this.”

This was different. Señor heading off while Dolph pulled me over to sit softly.

“Everything alright, girl?” He was concerned for me and expressed so much kindness in his words, “You look like you want to cry.”

“I do,” I stared at the floor, trying not to cry again and letting off my chest, “Señor asked me to talk to Dominik and I just can’t. I didn’t plan to, but guess who pops out of the blue when I was trying to leave?”

“That little shit,” Clicking his tongue and shaking his head, it did feel good to have someone who saw Dominik in the view that I did, “Look, I’ve know Rey, he’s told me things because we both have been attacked by all of them. I heard what happened and let me tell you, he does not deserve a girl like you. You’re far too good for him.”

“Thanks,” I said softly, still staring at the floor, whispering, “It still hurts. A lot.”

Feeling myself getting ready to cry again, I didn’t even realize that I was holding my heart. My heart truly hurt and Dolph tried his best to help, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and rubbing it softly:

“Hey it’s all gonna be-“

“Y/N, just the girl I’ve been looking for!”

Rhea.

My blood pressure skyrocketed just at the sound of her voice, Dolph knowing that this wasn’t going to end well, whispering:

“Y/N, she’s just-“

“What do you want?” I toned him out, standing tall to Rhea and giving her a look that could kill.

“So, I caught wind that you have something up your sleeve,” She was always trying to smile in someone’s face, probably referencing my talk with Señor.

Before she could even speak, I laughed at her:

“A trick up my sleeve? I don’t want anything to do with any of you. So, how about you go somewhere before you end up with a foot up your ass.”

Quickly, Dolph stood between us, noticing the step Rhea took towards me:

“You better watch your mouth!”

Of course, if it couldn’t get any worse, there was Damian, Finn, and Dominik coming to her side. My anger was controlling my thoughts and since I already took a shot, I fired out another:

“You’re so worried about me? You need to check your little sub in Dominik considering he wanted to talk to me last week.”

It was hard not to laugh at how she instantly shot him a glare, not keeping his eyes off of him till I looked at Dominik and said:

“Solo recuerda a quién llamabas mamí antes de conocerla!”

[Just remember who you were calling mamí before you met her!]

Damian covered his mouth with his hand since he knew Spanish, Dominik super worried when Rhea looked to me then back to him:

“What did she just say?”

“It’s time we left,” Dolph wanted to get us out of there and I didn’t mind this time, just smiling at them before walking off with Dolph.

“Don’t you walk away from me! I will get my hands on you!”

Rhea sure had a short fuse and I found it hysterical and sure enough, Dolph took me to my locker room and the first thing that happens a crew member telling me I now had a match against Rhea.

“Y/N, I don’t not think this is a good idea,” Dolph stressed, still being kind and sticking by my side, “But it’s too late and I’m going out there with you. They like to cheat and I know it’s just me, but it’s better than nothing.”

“I appreciate that, I really do,” I smiled softly, “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“No need to be sorry,” He smiled back, getting the door, “Meet you at the guerrilla?”

“Meet you there,” I waved, rushing to get ready when he stepped out.

Honestly, this wasn’t a good idea, but my emotions were so high, the match was booked, and I tried looking at it positively. This match wasn’t impossible to win and I needed to let off some steam.

I got into gear and just like Dolph said, we met at the guerrilla. Señor coming over to us:

“Niña, you be careful. You hear me?”

Poor Señor, he was so stressed out from this, but before I could speak, Dolph patted his chest, instructing;

“Just stay on the sidelines for me? We got this for right now. Trust me, man.”

“I trust you,” He fisted bumped Dolph and I tried to help him out some too, hugging him softly as my music hit:

“And I’ll be careful. I promise.”

“Let’s go kill it, girl,” Dolph smiled, escorting me out and once my eyes fell on Rhea, I was in the zone.

I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. She was strong and I ended up putting more defense than offense. I wasn’t counted out just yet thou.

At the climax, I had her grounded and Finn was clearly worried, distracting the referee so Rhea could poke me in the eyes and jab my throat.

Two crucial spots had me on the mat, choking while holding my throat, hearing a lot of commotion and when I looked, Dolph was keeping his word to me, snatching a chair from Dominik.

Looks like he was trying to give it to Rhea and Dolph had it, on guard and ready to swing at Dominik, Finn, and Damian. Till Rhea caught him with his back turned, snatching the chair as he rose it.

Thankfully the referee was paying attention this time, yelling at Rhea to toss it, but Dominik jumped on the apron to keep the referee’s back turned.

Rhea thought she had the advantage, turning to me hoping to swing the chair but I returned that eye poke, and then I slammed the chair down, tossing it into her arms and sure enough she took the bait by catching it.

I played at Dominik too, mouthing, “Watch this!”

I took a fake bump, holding my head and pretending that I was laid out from a chair shot. The crowd and Dolph found it hysterical.

I even had to hide my face for a moment to laugh at Rhea and the referee arguing, making another mistake again by tossing the chair towards me. All three of them yelling at the referee.

“Y/N, psst!” Dolph said to me while I was in the corner.

Dominik had his eyes on us and it was like Dolph was reading my mind, giving him something to watch when he kissed my cheek, promising, “You are going to win this match. Get the chair. I got this.”

Dominik actually got into the ring, seeing that made him want to fight, but Dolph was quicker than him, jumping in and shoving him out, getting yelled at by the referee himself, but I listened, taking the chair.

The crowd began to cheer for me more, shrugging as I got it ready, and the second Rhea turned around, I smacked her in the side of the head with it, chucked the chair out of the ring and rolled her up for a pin.

I even copied her pin by putting her knees in her face, posing and sticking my tongue out at them as I got the pin.

This was exactly what I needed, smiling and laughing as they tried to get into the ring, but I rolled out, ran over to Dolph, jumping into his arms as he twirled me around.

“Karma’s a bitch ain’t she?!” Dolph laughed and I laughed right along, smiling bright as he kissed my cheek again.

Every single one of them were pissed, especially Dominik. I don’t remember the last time he had such a furious look on his face.

Just for Rhea to get up and start yelling at him? This was priceless and entertaining as hell to watch.

Heading backstage, I was receiving so much praise and support for taking on Rhea and winning. She was my biggest match yet and it felt so good.

On top of that, Dolph and some of my friends backstage planned on going out for the night and when I came back from getting ready, the fun was beginning.

“Ayeee mamí!” Aaliyah whistled when I made my way, having me laugh but blushing, fixing the black leather dress I was wear, “Do a twirl for me.”

“Only for you,” I giggled, twirling and laughing more as she smacked my butt, giggling along with me:

“Ayí, yí, yí!”

The only person we were waiting for was Dolph and as I glanced down the hall, feeling eyes on me, there was Dominik.

I was so out of it, just staring at him as he stayed leaned against the wall, watching me and I could tell that he really did have something to say for me.

Now wasn’t the time, startled a bit when I felt Dolph’s arm going around my shoulder:

“You ladies ready?”

“Oh hell yeah,” I shook off, giving him a smile and smirking at Dominik before I left with him, able to see the jealously that burned in his eyes.

“Hey, she’s mine!” Aaliyah played, keeping her arm around my waist and heading out of the door.

“Not anymore!” Dolph teased back, shooing her hand to hold my waist, really making me blush.

Dominik was shaking his head and with my eyes on Dolph, I blew a kiss, making sure that I connected eyes with Dominik one last time before we were gone.

I needed a night like the one we had, nothing too crazy happened, but I got a drink, some food, all my friends kept me smiling and laugh. It made all the bad thoughts go away.

Getting back to the hotel, I planned to go change and just sleep, rummaging through my purse to find my keys when I heard:

“Dolph? Really?”

I looked up quickly, shocked to find Dominik, quickly asking:

“How do you even know what hotel I’m at?”

“Look, I talked to my dad,” He admitted, defeated in his sigh.

He wasn’t lying, his eyes showed how he didn’t want to do it, but he did. Being honest took me by surprise.

“Also,” He was being honest, but he still hurt me and I wasn’t forgiving him in the slightest, finally finding my key and warning, “What I do is none of your business anymore. So mind yours.”

“Y/N, please,” He said quickly, holding my hand on the door.

I still went to open it, stepping in and again, he wouldn’t let go of my hand.

“Let me guess, you’re jealous?” Cocking my eyebrow at him, he stayed silent till I demanded, “Answer me!”

“So what,” He huffed, stepping in and kissing me.

I froze, trying to comprehend what was happening because as he kissed me, I could feel the person that I fell in love with there.

“Dominik-“ I had to stop, pulling my head back and feeling a tear going down my cheek as he shut the door with his foot.

“Did you forget who your papí is, huh?” He could still read me like he always could, seeing the conflict and trying to get me on the same page with another kiss.

I didn’t know why I kept kissing him back, even growing angry because him and Rhea popped into my head, making me growl out:

“Did you forget who your mamí is?”

He only shook his head slightly once and laughing for some reason, “Don’t answer my question with a question.”

His every move grew so fast, kiss leading me over to the bed and bending me over it, hips pinned against my ass while he toyed with my dress, tugging at it:

“Where have you been hiding stuff like this? You never wore anything like this for me.”

“You never said you liked stuff like it,” I looked back, trying to mess with him more, “Shouldn’t be surprised that you like it. Dolph sure did.”

“Dolph’s not your papí,” He leaned down to me, showing a new side with his hand finding my throat, whispering into my ear, “I’m your papí.”

“It’s too late to go back,” I was surprised by the grip he had, making it hard to speak, but I made sure to get out, “Now either get to what I think you’re gonna do or shut up and get out.”

“Come on, you know you don’t want me to leave,” He chuckled, his free hand slipping between my thighs and into my panties, two fingers running through my folds and slick, squeezing my throat more as he smiled, “That right there says it all.”

I bit my lip to keep myself from moaning, closing my eyes at the swirl of bliss forming, his fingers sliding in slow before pumping.

“Still want me to leave?” He looked down to me, letting go of my throat for me to speak.

I wasn’t sure what to say, my brain racing through so many thoughts, and it came back to Rhea. How I hated seeing them two together and how she changed him.

I loved Dominik, there was no avoiding that, all of this pent up emotion. I finally let it all out.

“No, I don’t,” I said in a serious, stern voice that made him stop, and when he leaned over to talk to me, I threw him down on the bed, throwing my dress off and I ripped his shirt open, holding it tight as I straddled him, pulling his head up to me, “But when you do leave, all you’re gonna think about is me.”

“Ah, ah,” He snickered, licking his lip, “I like the sudden dominance, but it’s papí’s time.”

He could move a lot quicker than me, flipping me over and throwing off his pants and boxers, I also slid out of my panties too, throwing them and rolling my eyes at him:

“I always ended up on top so, whatever.”

“Is that right?” His eyes grew dark, flipping me over and spanked me so hard that my face dropped into the bed, my ass on fire from just that one spank, feeling himself positioning between my legs, “It’s time I stop taking it easy on you.”

“Easy, huh?” I finally breathed in, looking back at him, “I’m not so convinced.”

“How about now?” In a single thrust, his entire cock split me, already smacking my sweet spot where he knew exactly where it was, sending a jolt up my stomach and it was new.

The second was even harder, more thrusts coming with quick speed, my mouth wide open to let out the moans, holding onto the bed cover for dear life.

“Damn, I don’t remember the last time I had you this tight,” He chuckled in my ear softly, arm wrapping around my neck to keep me in a hold, whispering in a dirty voice, “And raw too? I think you’ll be the one who won’t stop thinking about me.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love hitting this,” I growled, whining at the friction and ripping the cover down, throwing myself back onto him softly and it only made the impact more intense, having my legs shake.

“You know I do,” Moving the bit hair away from my face, he left some kisses along my cheek, tilting my head to face him, look in his eyes as he said, “And you do too. Don’t lie to me. I’ve been being honest. Come on, tell me, hermosa.”

I never had anyone in my life like how I did with Dominik and I could never lie to him, my entire body aching from the rough speed and my orgasm lurking.

“I do, papí!”

For a short second, he pulled back to flip me around, shooting his cock back into me while between my legs, holding me up in his arms to hug me and keep me from falling back with my head, scooting to the edge of the bed.

It seemed like he was going quicker than before, hooking my arms under his to keep the tightest grip I could, the smack of wet skin growing louder.

“That’s right, hermosa. Who’s your papí?” I think that alone was getting him off, knowing I was so close and my mind gave free, scratching at his back as I cried out:

“You, Dom! P-papí-, I-I, A-ah, fuck!”

“That’s it,” He hummed, laying me back and on top of me while buried deep, gasping himself at the gush of moisture around his cock, my entire body worn and resting in the lingering list.

“Maldito sea, Dominik.”

[Got damn you, Dominik.]

I let out with a huff, in shock this happened, but not opposed to the pleasure and finally get a piece of him back. It truly gave me hope.

“Lo siento,”

[I’m sorry,]

He placed some soft kisses along my neck, picking his head up to reconnect our gaze, “I know rough is rare, but I had to make sure you didn’t forget that I’m your papí, baby.”

#wrestling #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic #wrestling smut #wwe #wwe imagine #wwe fic #wwe smut #Dominik Mysterio #Dominik Mysterio x reader #Dominik Mysterio imagine #Dominik Mysterio fic #Dominik Mysterio smut #read and enjoy

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peterman-spideyparker · 8 months

Text

Brief-ish, unsolicited thoughts about the Moon Boys

Not proofread, written on my phone on the fly, posted on the app so if it looks wonky that’s why

Let’s start with our sweet sweet Steven.

He’s such a sweet and doting boyfriend.

Kisses morning, noon, and night.

Steven loves to cook for you. Every dish is exquisite and full of flavor, and packed with love.

At least once a week, you visit him at the museum for lunch. On nice days, you eat lunch on the museum steps. When there’s gloomy London weather, he’ll sneak you into a closed exhibit or the storage room to enjoy some private time.

One thing he loves the most is when you’re at home and you both sit on the couch and read. His hand is always laced with yours, kissing your knuckles and cuddling in close.

In terms of sexy time, I think Steven’s favorite position might be doggy style. Don’t get me wrong, he does enjoy missionary. But doggy style allows him to have a certain kind of control that he lacks at work—and that he sometimes feels that he lacks within the system. He always feels like he has a say in his relationship with you, but doggy style . . . doggy style is control for him. You’re at his mercy on all fours, and how fast you get your pleasure is solely due to his actions.

Sometimes, he��ll mix it up by holding your arms behind your back while he keeps you upright, and other times he’ll push you down so your face is in the pillows and your ass is in the air, acting as his only real focal point.

He’s also been known for a swift spank here and there, but he can’t help it. He really loves your butt.

After, there’s a lot of snuggles. Either big spoon/little spoon where you’re the little spoon and he’s pressing kisses all over your shoulder and neck and wherever else he can reach without moving too much, or if it’s face to face with foreheads resting together, limbs tangled, and the whispering of sweet nothings mixed with kisses, he’s a gentleman through and through when it comes to taking care of you.

And now Marc. This poor man needs all the snuggles.

He didn’t want to date you. Like at all. He would try his best to keep you away, but he always found himself drawn to you.

One day, he bit the bullet and asked you out for some coffee. It’s coffee—what’s the worst that could happen. Famous last words.

By the time you drank half of your drink, he was smitten, and by the end of your respective cups, he knew he was in love.

He waited nearly a week after that date until he texted you.

“She’s not gonna respond, Spector,” he grumbles ten seconds after clicking send, rubbing his hands down his face.

You respond an hour later, and Marc is mortified to look at his phone, but feels like he can breathe again when he reads your message.

“Sorry, I was giving a presentation at work! Dinner sounds great. How about Thursday?”

He’s truly flabbergasted. You said yes.

The night of the date, he gets to the restaurant early, twiddling his thumbs and wringing his hands as he stands across the street, watching if you actually come. Panic washes over him when he sees you get to the restaurant, getting a table for two in the patio area. He knows the second that he crosses the street and sits across from you, he’s done. He’d be yours forever.

Time moves fast while he works up the nerve to cross the street, and he jumps out of his skin when he feels his phone vibrate.

“Hey,” he breathes shakily.

“Hey,” you mimic. “You know, I can see you standing across the street. I have this whole time. Marc, if you didn’t want to—.”

“That’s not it,” he interrupts. He can’t let you think like that. “I’m just . . . It sounds ridiculous.” He lets out a deep breath. “I’m nervous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” you reassure him softly as you turn and look at him in the eyes from across the street. “But I can tell you from many years of experience of being nervous and anxious—the best way to stop being nervous is to just do the thing freaking you out. It has to happen eventually, and if you keep building it up in your head, it’ll only get worse.”

He lets out a shallow breath, hanging up and jogging across the street to you.

When it comes to sex, I feel Marc has two positions he really prefers—missionary, and lotus.

Marc is a man that like control, but he also takes great comfort in predictability, which is what these positions offer for him: they both allow him to be as close as possible to you, he can change little motions in his hips to make it rougher or gentler for you, he can go deep, and most importantly, he can see your face. He can see every last iota of pleasure on your features, he can kiss you over and over, and you ground him, reminding him you’re here with him and that everything is okay.

He always marks up your neck one way or another. Sometimes it’s lingering wet kisses, other times it’s red marks that fade, and more often than not, little purple hickies on the column of your neck that remain for long after the sex has stopped.

You’ve come to find that Marc likes a little pain while you’re being intimate. Not much, but a scratch of your nails through his hair, on his back, or on his arms turns him into putty in your hands.

Cuddles are mandatory aftercare for Marc. You keep him present and remind him that even if he’s feeling low, you’re there for him.

More often than not, it’s face to face cuddles, his head resting on your chest so he can listen to your heart while you play with his curls.

And just like with aftercare cuddles, Marc will always wake up early the next day to make you breakfast in bed. It’s nothing grand—truly, sometimes it’s toaster waffles and a cup of coffee—but you absolutely love it.

Now to Jake.

He’s attracted to you as soon as he meets you, but he chose to stay deep within the headspace until he knew you weren’t gonna leave or hurt Marc or Steven.

He doesn’t stick around for more than fifteen minutes when he does eventually come out, but you’re warm and kind to him.

“You must be Jake,” you hum with a soft smile. “I’m happy to finally meet you.”

Jake just nods, leaning back and drinking his spiked coffee and watching you go about your morning as you read the paper.

One day, Jake is fronting when he comes home after a rough mission. He sees you on the couch, looking lonely and less vibrant and, well, looking less you than you usually do.

He takes off his jacket and hat, putting it on the stand by the door. Jake moves over to where you are on the couch, sitting down next to you, and carefully wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to rest on him.

You both don’t know what to do at first, both stiff and nervous, but when you shimmy down on the couch to get comfortable on him, he breathes a sigh of relief. Jake tilts his head and rests his cheek on the top of your head.

The romance between you two is slow, but it’s strong. And once the fuse is lit, there’s no stopping it.

The first time Jake kisses you, he’s nervous, but as soon as his lips meet yours, he knows with every ounce of his body that you’re the only person outside of the system that he could ever love.

The kiss turns into a make out session, and that make out session results in both of your clothes being shed all over the apartment and you trapped between his body and the mattress.

You two spin around in a litany of positions, but Jake loves it when you’re on top, hands on his chest, riding him like an award-winning equestrian front and back.

His hands grip your hips not to guide you or control you, but as a firm, silent encouragement for your actions.

Jake praises you in Spanish all through your lovemaking, calling you every pet name in the book: “corazón”, “hermosa”, “amore”, and so many others. His fluency and the lit of his pitch goes right to your core, only making the sex more incredible.

After both of you are spent, Jake kisses your cheek and neck, moving to the bathroom to get a cool damp cloth to cool down your burning skin and cleaning you up between your legs.

Jake tosses the towel into the nearby bathroom, somehow getting it to rest and hang over the side of the tub.

He rests on his side as he watches you lie on your back, looking up at him and lacing your fingers together and talking about anything that comes to mind before you fall asleep in his arms.

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shinobuscanonwife · 2 years

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Hello!! Its 🇵🇱/Kikuo Anon here again!! How are ya!

I couldn’t thank you enough for doing my requests😭 there always perfect! maybe you can send some to mine sometime xD but not now since I’m renovating my blog and etc but anyways…!

Could i request The Demons with a S/O who has a Pure Vanilla Cookie Personality from Cookie Run Kingdom? (So… apparently pure vanilla is a Healer, he’s known for his devout humility, altruism and forgiving nature, and maybe the reader has his same exact clothing style and looks? Like his eyes i would say, pure vanilla cookie’s character is just to beautiful 😭😭 i could talk abt him all day)

Thank you again!! I’ll send some more requests out tomorrow since i feel sleepy!! i hope you rest well and have a great day/night!

hihi!! I would love to send a request to yours once you finish renovating your blog! Also, I hope you rest well!!<3

Douma

He takes an interest in you because of how wise you are. He could ask you almost anything and you would have an answer. Which made him start asking pretty stupid questions just so you could answer more of his questions. He thought your healing powers were cool too but he never got injured and he kind of can't really get injured because of his regeneration powers but he likes watching you use your powers on weak humans.

Kokushibo

Kokushibo is a very protective lover. And because of that, he hates It when you use your healing powers on anybody but him. Even If he never gets injured. Whenever he catches you using your healing powers he's just like >:( for the rest of the day. But he does find your wisdom very interesting he's never met anybody as smart as you. He doesn't really ask you a lot of questions he just kind of observes you.

Gyutaro

You can't tell me that Gyutaro does not have a bunch of scars and cuts and bruises on him from when he was a human that just stayed on his body when he became a demon that he can't close up. So when you healed a bunch of those scars he started taking a liking to you. Also, the way you were so friendly with Daki made him like you a lot. He feels safe around you and wants to be around you constantly. Even if you are healing humans he'll just lay in your lap until you are done and just glares at the humans that are being healed.

Akaza

Loves how wise you are. He could listen to you ramble about stuff you know about all day. Asks you questions just so he can listen to you ramble on and on about stuff you know or stuff you've been through. Fines your healing powers interesting but he'd rather listen to you talk about your knowledge about other things than watch you heal humans.

Muzan

Very interested in you. He sees you as an amazing opportunity for demons. Please don't think he's using you because he's not! He doesn't force you to help demons he just calmly asks if you want to become a demon and if you say no he just smiles and nods. He truly believes that you're smarter than him. And surprisingly that's something he's interested in.

Enmu

He loves you. No more than that. He adores you. He's so interested in you. He asks a lot of questions about how you heal people so easily and asks about your powers in general. Even before you two started dating he respected you because of how wise you are. Something about you talking to him and telling him all this stuff you know is soothing to him. He looks up to you and hopes one day he can be as wise as you.

Thank you for your request!! I didn't which demons you wanted me to write for so I just wrote the ones that normally get requested!! Have a nice day/night

#enmu fluff #kny x reader #kny fluff #kny headcanons #kokushibo x reader #akaza x reader #douma x reader #gyutaro x reader #muzan x reader

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bookishtheaterlover7 · 4 months

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I understand that fans are jealous of the relationship of Chris and Alba. But how has Alba flaunted her relationship with him? At this time, Chris has been the only one to post pictures of them; which he can! I’m generally confused by this narrative of her being with him for money too. She’s a beautiful woman who happened to fall in love with a handsome man who just happens to be famous. She’s living every woman’s dream that read imagines of Chris here on Tumblr.

If they were to divorce it would only be because of how rude the fans are to her and their relationship. When she gives birth to their child, which I feel she is pregnant based on the new pictures what narrative will his fans say about her and their relationship? I’m not trying to be rude, but it’s frustrating to see the hate this woman gets for falling in love. We don’t know anything about them because we are not apart of their lives. For all you know, Chris probably fell in love with her the moment he saw her. They are both of legal age and can make their own decisions. So, why are people focusing on his supposed FS? Alba is probably the woman Chris has been searching for his entire life.

We can’t help who we fall in love with, so why is everyone trying to make him feel bad about it? I have never seen or read anything about Alba being rude to fans, making rude comments, or posting pictures that taunt fans about her relationship! Do you guys really think she wants to see thousands of messages and comments from people she doesn’t know saying how rude and ugly she? No!

Did y’all ever think that the reason Chris doesn’t talk about their relationship or post hundreds of pictures is because when he was dating Jenny Slate the fans were terrible. Like I said, you can’t help who you fall in love with. I don’t wish them any hate; only love and the strength that their relationship lasts. As should everyone else, because why would you wish heartbreak on anyone.

Dear An🫶n, you sweet soul...

I'm sorry and glad that you approached me with this ask. I'll answer this in a way that is as nice and gentle as your question is.

The Fans that spew hate isn't because of jealousy. Never in a thousand years is it about their relationship. It is about the fact that Chris seems to have, in your words, "fallen for" a racist, anti-semitic, without any self respect. Something that our favorite Chris has fought against for years...

I refer you to the links below that prove her racist and anti-semitic ways.

EXHIBIT A

EXHIBIT B

Not to mention, Chris' own mother was caught liking a comment, THREE TAPS DEEP, calling Alba a racist

MAMA LISA'S LIKE

So, if your supposed mother-in-law publicly, albeit subtly, agreed to someone calling you like that. Wouldn't that be a little concerning?

Especially if your supposed husband is publicly known to be a "Mama's boy"? We're talking about the actor that told the whole world, that he told his mother the second he got home after losing his virginity...

I'm sorry that's seriously a red flag on your relationship, if his closest confidant, his mother, HATES YOU.

On to the discussion of them loving each other, and being happy... Please open your eyes, and tell me Chris looks happy.

The guy isn't. Even during their first "outing" as a couple. Pap Walk 1.0 through Central Park. With paparazzi lining the walkway, and our two "lovebirds" not showing affection, and Chris wanting to leave as soon as possible.

He didn't even want to hold this girl's hand, when the thing they're selling... Is literally them being IN LOVE

DOES THIS LOOK LIKE LOVE AND AFFECTION TO YOU?!

And if you have any doubts about them as a couple. What kind of woman, who's in a committed relationship, and means to be fully devoted, basically engaged. Strips for the entire world, bearing her body for random men on Facebook, and for the world.

Receipts of her Lack of Love

When you truly love someone, you wouldn't betray them by displaying your parts for the world to see. It's sacred and a thing between the two of you.

So, if the issue is heartbreak, Chris is suffering so much heartbreak, his hair is dull, his face is sunken, and he's literally lost the ability to look not a day over 40 (I mean he looks like an old man next to her). She doesn't love him. Not for a second. She's in this for the attention.

Supported by the fact, Warrior Nun Trailer dropped the same day they announced their "relationship". And the most recent release of pics, coincides with her horror movie trailer release.

Chris gets nothing from this. He gets shit from everyone. Including the Fans still hanging on to hope. We want him to be happy. With a woman that makes him happy.

Not a woman like Alba, who goes off with other men, spends her days with friends and an important holiday for family in a whole sea away from their newlyweded husband, and gets their hand crushed because he seriously doesn't want to be seen, with you, any longer than he has to. Who also doesn't share the same values you claim to have.

They aren't private if they keep calling paps everytime they're out and about. And if the conflicting info of their wedding (Cape Cod vs. his Boston home, which people in Boston that live in the area have debunked), and the several thousand articles over the littlest of things, means that they're FAR from private.

And I'm not even talking about how she seems to edit every photo she's posted since this whole thing started. That's for another time.

In conclusion, we wish Chris every happiness,but not with this woman who's totally and 1000% wrong. Not just for him, but as a whole. As for baby rumors, they've been floating around since this started. And he'd have to stand her long enough to have one, and the way he cringes, and sinks everytime he's with or talking about her, vs. talking about Dodger/East, his beloved dogs.

Chris and his dogs are true love, whatever he has with Alba isn't. And pics show it.

I hope this cleared things up for you, Sweet An🫶n. Thank you for reaching out. I've been waiting for someone to talk nicely about their end, about how they see this. I'm seriously tired of people just screaming "YOU'RE JEALOUS BECAUSE BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA..." So, it's really a nice change. And you'll get a lot of different perspective and reactions, some more volatile and neurotic than others, but, pick some good ones, and you'll be fine 🤗

So much love and hugs,

Booky❤️

#An🫶n asks #Sweet An🫶n #booky reacts #booky answers #chris evans #chris evans fandom #alba baptista #did I miss anything?#seriously though I'm drained #this actually helped me get sleepy so thanks #☺️🤗

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fandomwritingbit · 2 years

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The bed: william afton x (gn)reader

I really debated with whether or not to call this Bed-Kobs and Broom-dicks, but I respect the craft too much to even think of- well nah actually I did think of it... ah moving on!

Notes: short, just a little something-something. bit of dirtiness at the end if you squint (through a microscope with a magnifying glass and your contact lenses in)

Making the beds was your favourite part of cleaning someone’s house. Just the right mix of sweat inducing work and tiny intricate touches that make it your own. People’s beds are so personal too and stripping them down piece by piece kind of felt like you were delving into their safe space. That’s why you always left the beds ‘til last, a nice little indulgence to finish off a hard day of scrubbing, folding and washing.

This one in particular was nice. The bed not too elaborate, the owner not one of those who likes to have a thousand pillows of various shapes and sizes and throw upon throw: just a standard king, four pillows, grey sheets. The most typical place for any middle-aged couple to sleep.

You begin tucking in the fitted sheet, bending down to pull it over the mattress, making sure its secure. Then the duvet; smoothing it down flat and tucking that in to-boot. It's when you’re bent faffing with one of the corners that you catch sight of the shadow and turn to be greeted by the leaning frame of the bed’s owner: Mr Afton. Not knowing how long he’d been there you feel a sense of awkwardness.

“Don’t stop.” He says, rather simply and you catch the distinctive sound of a drink being placed on a table. The way that was said made your stomach clench, it wasn’t the innocent remark of someone intruding, it was something else entirely.

“I’m pretty much finished, I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.” You reply, taking your eyes off of his slender frame to finish the last corner. You’d never known awkwardness like it. In fact, it wasn’t just awkward it was... creepy, him just standing there watching you finish up, no discernible expression on his face at all.

“That’s a shame.” He sighs, “I like watching you work.”

All you can do in reaction is laugh shortly and try to tuck away the fabric as quickly as possible, who says something like that? You’re trying to figure out how to move past him lounging in the doorway when the shadow of him cuts slowly across the room, along the bed as he walks past that and then engulfing your own completely. Your heart falls to the bottom of your chest like a thrown horseshoe at the presence of him behind you.

You turn quickly, stumbling at the sheer size of him, near sitting on the bed for panic not to accidently bump into him. Embarrassment begins to settle in the pit of your stomach, this was wildly inappropriate, the sort of thing that would get you fired on the spot. Glancing to his face for some insight into what the Hell he thinks he’s doing; you immediately wished you hadn’t. The dark cooling glare of him strummed a cord in you that shouldn’t be involved in the slightest.

“You know, you do that very well. So well that it hard to use the bloody thing.” What might have been a joke, somewhere, makes your throat tighten and you scramble for a response to diffuse the amounting situation.

“Yeah, I know. It can be hard when they’re so... tight.” You trail off, really wishing you’d chosen better words, but your train of thought had been well and truly derailed.

“You’re not wrong.” He said, shaking his head slightly, before leaning closer to you. You try to step back but the bedframe catches your foot. “But a firm hand is usually enough.”

If you’d have known that 20 minutes ago, when you began sorting the bed, that your hard work would be completely undone moments later, perhaps you wouldn’t have bothered. Though you haven’t much room to complain because your head is full trying to make sense of the staggering pace of the man ravaging you on the titular bed.

#fnaf #fnaf smut #fnaf william afton #william afton smut #william afton x reader #william afton x you

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passionateseadruid · 1 month

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update

We have a name for my “Alastor adopts a podcast Demon and ASMR demon” AU… Acoustic Affections

also I want to draw them digitally but I don’t have an app to use. So for now I’ll just have to use my sketchbook. If anyone has any recommendations for apps I can use please comment.

Just one more thing, I would like to talk about some of the dynamics Asha and Aiza have with the rest of the cast.

The hotel:

I’ve already talked about their relationships with Alastor. So I’ll skip him.

Charlie: I see Asha being appreciative of Charlie and she definitely looks up to her. Aiza respects her because of Asha. I wouldn’t exactly say Charlie is a motherly figure to them. But she’s not exactly an older sister or aunt figure either.

Vaggie: She hates them. Aiza looks up to Alastor whom we all know Vaggie despises. And as far as she’s concerned Asha is trying to take Charlie away.

Angel: They both adore Angel. Aiza and Angel definitely have a more casual relationship, drinking and gossiping. But Asha has a bit of a deeper connection. I don’t know exactly how she managed to get him to open up. Maybe she took care of Fat Nuggets when the piggy wiggled out of Angels room. Maybe she saw a bruise or a cut on him that Valentino left and she patched him up.

Husker: Aiza loves him because he has booze and gossip about everyone around the hotel, though Husk won’t admit it, it does feel nice to vent his frustrations to her. Asha enjoys playing card games with him but their friendship doesn’t really go any deeper, she’s always a good sport about loosing though.

Nifty: Freaks Asha out. Aiza adores her though. The podcaster was into all things ghoulish and creepy so her and Nifty are like two peas in a pod.

I have no clue if they come to the hotel before or after Pentious’ death/redemption

(I’m adding Luci just because I can and I feel like he’ll have a bigger role in season 2): The three do not see eye to eye. I can’t exactly tell you guys why they don’t like him because it gets into spoiler territory but I can say this; he doesn’t like them because he’s jealous that they’re immediately on good terms with Alastor after he took them in. He’s less mad at them and more angry at Alastor for having parenting come so easily to him when he’s been trying so hard with Charlie.

The Vees:

Vox: Al and Vox’s rivalry is very well known. Aiza takes on Al’s disdain for Vox because of two reasons. A. Alastor’s disdain. And B. Because Asha has a bit of a school girl crush on Vox.

Velvette: Aiza finds Velvette’s designs to be a tacky. Velvette once called Aiza pathetic for trying to emulate Alastor and the two have been trying to one up each other. Though it is very one sided on Aiza’s part. I truly don’t think Velvette cares about her unless they are within 5 feet of each other.

Valentino: Asha and Valentino were kind of thrown together to tie a nice little bow on the Rivalries but nonetheless they do not get along. Because of Asha’s feelings about Vox and her relationship with the other residents of the hotel (Angel) she despises Valentino. These two are really only fighting when they are with their respective teams though. The hate is real but they will go out of their way to avoid each other. Mostly because Val thinks Asha is a prude and a waste of time and Asha doesn’t want to bring attention to herself.

And that’s all for now.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel oc #vivziepop #hazbin fandom #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel husker #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel vees

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laniuchiha7 · 1 year

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Moving On...?

Pink locks and green apple eyes torment his mind at all hours of the day, when all he wants is to wipe them from his memory. And yet it seems the more Sasuke tries to forget about her, the more he can’t bring himself to.

It’s been three weeks since he returned from his journey of atonement, and in that time frame Sasuke came to wish he hadn’t returned at all.

Immediately passing through the village gates Sasuke makes his way to the hospital knowing Sakura would be there. Having sensed her chakra he’s able to deduce where her office was and knocks on her window. Sakura was the first person he wanted to see, and when she lifts the glass for him to enter Sasuke is greeted with an excited smile and a joyus “Welcome back, Sasuke-kun!”

However, his elation would be short lived when a man whom Sasuke does not recognize, with floppy brown hair and dark eyes, knocks on her open door to announce his arrival while he and Sakura are catching up.

“Sakura,” he says, looking between the two of them. “Are we still on for lunch?”

“Is it that time already?” she briefly glances at the clock on the wall. “I suppose it is. Keita, this is my good friend Sasuke-kun. Sasuke-kun, this is Keita, my…um…well we’ve been going out lately,” Sakura confesses without looking Sasuke in the eyes.

Sakura is dating someone?

Part of him feels as though he should respect that she’s choosing to put her own desires first, but the other part is hurt, angry even. Did she not understand what he meant by poking her forehead back when he left? He’s finally willing to open up and return her affection, and she chooses to find comfort in someone else? Just who is this man anyway? And why did she never mention him in any of her letters??

She stands up, “Anyway, we have plans for lunch,” she tells Sasuke. “Do you want to join us? I would love it if you two could –”

“Actually,” Sasuke interrupts and stands as well. “I should let Kakashi know I’m back.”

“Oh, then I guess I’ll see you around?” she asks.

“Hn,” he grunts. Sasuke honestly just needs to get out of that room, away from her and this newcomer so he can process what’s happening, ensure he didn’t get caught in some weird genjutsu. Walking through her office door, he passes by Keita, glancing at the man who’s roughly a few inches shorter than himself. He offers a nice smile to Sasuke, but the Uchiha doesn’t return the gesture as he continues to walk past him and down the hallway.

After meeting with Kakashi and cornering Naruto later that day, Sasuke learns that Sakura and Keita have been casually seeing each other for about a month, not long after she sent her last letter, and were set up by Ino. Of course Ino would have a hand in this, granted he knows she was only being a good friend to Sakura but that fact didn’t ease his crumbling heart. If only he had returned a few weeks sooner or sent any of those damn letters which now feel heavy in his pouch.

In the beginning Sasuke tried to act as if he’s unbothered by the knowledge Sakura is dating someone who isn’t him, going to the Team 7 reunion, training with her and Naruto, but the truth of the matter is that it does bother him. Everytime he looks at her, thinks about her, it feels as though his heart is shattering. Sakura is the only one he’s ever wanted to be with, to be by his side, and now that’s not an option.

The following days Sasuke did his best to avoid Sakura, keeping their meetings and conversations short, but he can see the hurt in her eyes when he suddenly announces his departure, declines invites to hang out, and doesn’t return her greetings.

He should have known better, he thinks, than to assume she’d wait until the end of time for him to get his shit together. It’s unfair to her, truly, to waste her youth on someone like him. Sakura deserves to have a partner who will make her happy, never make her cry or hurt her like he has. He needs to stop being selfish and consider what would be best for her.

Naruto invites Sasuke to train on grounds 3 on a Saturday evening, but he’s not into it today and the dobe can tell. “I can’t handle this anymore,” Naruto tells him. “You need to talk to her.”

“And say what?” Why didn’t you wait for me? I thought you would always love me, and I’m sorry I took that for granted. “Sakura has already moved on.”

“Listen, I think it’s more complicated than that,” Naruto sighs. “You have to understand that Sakura-chan hadn’t heard from you in over two years and didn’t know when you’d be returning. None of us did, Teme. Just be honest with her, tell her how you feel.”

“I can’t,” Sasuke shakes his head. “If she would rather be with someone else, then who am I to intervene?”

“Do you love her?” The dobe questions.

He glances at the ground with lips pulled into a frown, unable to answer, but it’s obvious isn't it? Otherwise Sasuke wouldn’t be avoiding her this adamantly. He loves her, been in love with her for longer than he’s willing to admit, that’s why this hurts so much for him. And yet despite all of it, he’d still do anything for her.

“Teme!” Sasuke looks up at the blonde only for a fist to connect with his face, catching him off guard.

“What the fuck!?” The Uchiha seethes, ready to retaliate.

Naruto shakes out his hand. “Shit, you’ve got a hard face!” he quips. “I think I might’ve broken your nose. You should get Sakura-chan to fix you up, she should still be at her apartment.”

“And what about you?” Sasuke asks, wiping the blood dripping from his nostrils. “Your hand looks bruised.”

“Yeah but I got Kurama, and unless you want to wait at the hospital I suggest you pay a visit to our very own medic.” Naruto exits the training grounds with a smirk, leaving his friend behind. In his mind Sasuke knows Naruto is right, he needs to talk to Sakura and clear the air between them. His feet start moving on their own, in the direction of her apartment.

Knocking a few times he flares his chakra to let her know it’s him, and hears a bit of shuffling from the otherside. The lock clicks and the door swings open, revealing the pink haired kunoichi staring at him with disbelief. She’s wearing a red long sleeve, off the shoulder top which stops just above her belly button and tight black pants, her hair is curled at the ends and make up is kept light and looks almost natural. She looks beautiful, and he would consider saying so if his breath wasn’t caught in his throat. But then realization hits him, she’s going on a date tonight.

“Sasuke-kun! What happened?!” she pulls him, lending him down the hall.

“Was training with the dobe,” he tells her.

“Ugh, you two always have to take it too far,” Sakura sits him down on her couch with her taking a seat on the coffee table in front of him. “If you look like this, do I even want to know how Naruto is?” She places her palms on his cheeks, leaning forward to examine the damage.

“He’s fine. A little bruised, but he made it out mostly unscathed.”

“Well your nose is definitely broken. It’ll only take a few minutes for me to heal,” pressing one hand delicately on the bridge, a light green glow begins to emit. “You might feel a bit of pressure.”

She’s so close that he can smell her strawberry perfume, finding the smell almost intoxicating. His eyes gaze into the jade he’s missed so much, watching her as she fixes him up. He’s an idiot, he believes, and needs to talk to her, apologize for avoiding her and clear his conscience, then no matter what her answer is he’ll accept it.

Sakura moves her hand away once she’s finished, “There. All done,” with the other still on his cheek, and Sasuke finds himself leaning into her touch. His eyes lower to her soft looking lips, wondering how they would feel pressed against his own, and it’s not until he hears her breath hitch does he realize he’s inching closer, stopping once their noses touch. “S-Sasuke-kun?” she whispers, his heart beating loudly in his ears that he almost doesn’t hear her.

Almost like she snaps out of her daze, Sakura pulls back, a rose tinted blush visible across her face, and stands. “I need to head out,” she says. “I have a date with Keita and I’ll be late if I don’t leave soon. I’ll walk you to the door.” Stepping away, she stops when his hand wraps around her wrist.

“Can we talk, please?” Sasuke quietly asks, looking up at her.

“I’m sorry, but I really need to go. Some other time?” Sakura pulls away from him and stands by the hallways leading to the door. “It was really nice to see you again though, we should get together sometime and –”

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” he blurts out.

Head tilting slightly to the side, she seems taken aback. “What?”

“Why didn’t you wait for me to come back?” Sasuke repeats himself. He stands up and takes a few steps towards her. “I just – I thought –”

“You thought what?” her tone is sharp, borderline insulted. “That I would wait around forever?” Sakura raises her brows and scoffs. “Sasuke-kun, I know your journey was important to you and I respect your decision to travel alone, but was it so hard to respond to even one of my letters? For over two years I waited for you to walk through the village gates again. For all I knew, you could have found someone else and I would’ve never known.

“So when Ino mentioned she knew someone who was interested in me and offered to set us up, I agreed, figuring it’s about time I finally let myself move on. That I at least tried. And guess what? I like Keita; he’s nice, respectful, and treats me well.” Sakura looks up at the clock on the wall. “I seriously need to go. Maybe now that you’ve decided to stop avoiding me, we can finish this conversation later,” she turns to walk down the hall, but halts at his next words.

“I came back for you,” Sasuke interjects, needing to get the words out in the open. “I came back to be with you. I never responded to your letters because when I tried, all I could write about was how I saw you in every little thing, and it was so overwhelming I didn’t know what to do. Trust me when I say I’ve never wanted to be with anyone who isn’t you and I never will.”

From where he stands Sasuke sees Sakura bring a hand up to her face, tremors running through her body, and hears small sniffles. She’s crying, the last thing he’s ever wanted to make her do again. “Sakura, I – I’m sorry,” he says in earnest.

“You need to leave,” she tells him and this time he does without hesitation.

He should’ve never listened to Naruto, Sasuke thinks laying in his bed and staring up at the ceiling two hours after leaving Sakura’s apartment. He should’ve kept bottling his feelings because now he’s made his situation with Sakura even worse. Perhaps he should’ve never returned, let her believe he moved on so she could’ve done the same, like she was trying to do. Maybe he should leave again, he considers, since he seems to be so good at it. Even if he never stops caring for Sakura, if he leaves the village then he’ll never have to hurt her again. She would probably be glad to see him go this time.

There’s a few knocks on his door, making him groan and roll his eyes at the thought of it being Naruto. Who else could it be at this hour? The hard taps persists, forcing him to get up with the intent of telling the dobe to fuck off because he’s in no mood to entertain him. However when he gets closer to the door the chakra signature on the other side isn’t Naruto, but someone he never expected to visit him especially after what transpired earlier.

Opening the door Sasuke finds the pink haired woman standing there, puffy eyes and still wearing the outfit from before, hating himself for still thinking she looks ethereal, and causing him to wonder if she came straight here after her date ended. He opens his mouth to ask why she’s here but Sakura brushes past, the sound of her heels clack against the floor, and walks into the main room of his place.

“I don’t know who you fucking think you are to just show up at my doorstep after weeks of ignoring me, knowing I wouldn’t turn you away because you were injured, and just drop all of that on me out of no where,” she starts chastising and swivels to face him, crossing her arms. Sasuke stops a few feet away from her, wanting to apologize for everything but lets her keep going uninterrupted. “I honestly believed I could finally move on. I thought I could grow to love Keita as much as I do you,” her voice begins to waver, losing the edge from earlier.

Sasuke feels guilty knowing once again he’s made her upset, but also catches the tense she’s using. “...you thought?”

“I ended things with him tonight,” she confesses. “I didn’t think it was fair to keep seeing him when I’m still in love with you. At least he seemed understanding.” Sasuke’s eyes widen, heart swelling at the knowledge she feels the same. Yet Sakura looks the opposite, dejected that after all this time she can’t move on from him. “Pathetic aren’t I?” she says bitterly, shaking her head. “Ino is going to give me an earful when she hears about this.” Tears start rolling down her face, Sakura bites her bottom lip and glances away.

Sasuke’s body instinctively moves on its own, wrapping his arm around Sakura and pulling her into his chest, his hand rubs small circles between her shoulder blades trying to bring some comfort. “You’re not,” he whispers into the crown of her hair. “You’re anything but pathetic.”

Hearing a muffled “annoying”, he narrows his eyes and looks at her.

“What?”

Jade irises meet onyx and amethyst, Sakura repeats herself more clearly, enunciating each word. “I said, ‘you are so annoying’.” She grasps his shirt and pulls him down, their lips crashing together. Once getting over the initial shock, Sasuke closes his eyes with his hand moving down to the small of her back feeling her smooth skin against his calloused fingers, and angles his head to deepen their kiss.

And over all too soon when she pulls away, letting go of his shirt to rest her hands on shoulders. Sasuke opens his eyes and it met with her flushed cheeks, as he assumes his are too, their panting breaths intermingling together in the aftermath. Pressing his forehead against hers, Sasuke kisses Sakura one, two more times before telling himself to be patient.

“I should probably go home,” Sakura breaks their silence. “I have work in the morning.” He nods in agreement, but doesn’t want her to leave just yet. He has lost time to make up for.

“Let’s go on a trip together, just you and me,” he says.

“Huh?” she pulls back to look at him fully. “What brought this on?”

Sasuke shrugs. “You used to talk about wanting to see the world, let me show you.”

“That was when we first became genin. You remember that?” she says with astonishment, and he nods.

“I didn’t act like it, but I was always paying attention to you,” Sasuke tells her.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” she’s blushing a little harder, and he can’t help but fall a little more for her. “I’ll have to talk to Tsunade-shisho and Kakashi-sensei about getting the time off.”

“You focus on Tsunade and I can talk to Kakashi.”

“Alright then,” Sakura smiles, a genuine one reaching her eyes that he hasn’t seen since he first came back to the village. She wraps her arms around him. “I missed you, Sasuke-kun.”

“Ah,” his lips curve up. I missed you too.

#sasusaku #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #naruto #blank period #sssnippetaday #oneshot #fanfic #ss fanfiction

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