#kit gets butterflies every time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tarjapearce · 9 months

Note

Okay but…

Miguel’s on a mission, Gabi and Benji are out of the house, leaving mommy alone for some me time, that she spends with her hand down inside her panties.

She gets so into it, moaning and bucking (it’s been a bit since the two of them had done anything) that she doesn’t notice Miguel had entered the house….

Do with this information what you will

Well, yeah. Mama deserves a me time too 🥴🥴 Smut undercut. Lil bit of Dom! Miguel.

Times like these would suppose a relaxation period for you. You could go shopping, treat yourself with something, you deserved it. Being a mother wasn't exactly easy, and it was kinda rare when you had time for yourself cause one way or another, you'd be worrying over your role.

Miguel was at work, the kids were out. Gabi in her soccer practice, and Benjamin at Peter's playing with Mayday some board games. And you... You just sighed.

Boredom often lived in your head whenever you had nothing to do. You always needed to have your hands busy, house was already clean. An idea popped in your mind. Your feet took you to the bedroom, and you scourged through that special little drawer that hadn't seen the light in months.

Pulling out a key, you unlocked it, revealing neatly folded lingerie, along some little toys. A bullet like discreet vibrator, a couple of lubes, a small bdsm kit you still hadn't opened yet, since you wanted to use it with Miguel. And of course lingerie you still hadn't the confidence to wear.

But it was your chance. Since none was home, your clothes were discarded, and you tried the first one. Red Baby doll with an electric blue g string. It barely covered anything, and you could see your nipples through the red mesh fabric. Miguel said it was one of his favorites because of how bouncy your ass looked back in the dressing room.

Ah, your husband. You still wondered how such a fine and grumpy man had snatched you away for himself. He was hot, undoubtedly, but his way of carry on things were the actual spark that made you want him. The way cursing words flew out of his mouth in that rich spanish, made you swoon.

Thighs rubbed together upon you remembering how possessive and angry he was. How delicious his anger felt between your legs, how big he was to the point of you feeling he was swallowing your body like a black hole.

Your mouth sighed.

The next set was just a little butterfly thong with the crotch open, perfect for a good rile up. The butterfly design in the back cupped your ass gently. It was kind of curious and funny, how well he knew your body. Cause every set you tried just enhanced your body shape. Your nipples went hard at the sudden though of him, touching you, exploring your body, your hands trailing over where he would.

Light pieces of clothing rolling off thighs and torso. You laid on the middle of the bed, legs spreading, heat pooling at the soft caresses your hands delivered. God, you wished he'd be here. You'd certainly give him a show, but the only thing you could do was to wait for him to arrive home. Hands rubbed your inner thighs.

It was unavoidable to not think in that night, you liked when he was angry, cause his cock reached places you didn't know you could feel and get pleasure from. His hands had folded you in half, and you rubbed softly at your clit. Dragging slow lazy circles on it.

You loved every time he knocked the air out of your lungs, sheathing inside you, and stretching your insides, that as he said; were made specially for him.

Your legs trembled as your slit squished, slick in your need. One of your hands toyed with your breast, twirling your nipple between your fingers, as the other kept stimulating around your clit, teasing yourself. Just like Miguel would.

Whining, you smothered your legs together, edging yourself, trying to make it last. You breathed as heat spreaded through your body. If he was here, he'd be eating you out like a starved man.

But he wasn't.

Another needy whine. If he was here he'd surely be massaging your insides with his fingers, luring a wet orgasm from within. But again, He wasn't.

Your rubbings were desperate, your other hand squeezed your breast. But there was nothing that actually matched him. Not even the toys you had. Sure they were fun, but feeling him, going deep inside, his back flexing at the exertion, you scratching him, felt too real, too good and definitely you were needing it.

"Having fun?" The reason of your current desperate state leaned against the doorframe, watching with hazy eyes the scene unfolding before him.

"M-Miguel-"

"Shh. No te dengas." (Keep going)

He laid down, next to you, a look you knew all too well. He cupped your cheek softly and kissed your forehead.

"Hands off"

"But I'm-"

"Sin. Manos." (Hands off)

His tone firm, as he sat before you to take a better look of what he just provoked. Hands rested on your side, breathings erratic and needy. Legs weak

"That bad huh?" He shook his head with a smirk

"I need to..." You swallowed and tried to pull him to you, but he shook his head.

"No, no." You whined and plopped on your elbows, supporting your torso on them.

"Open up." He commanded and your hand went immediately on the outer folds, a little squish as you parted them with your fingers.

He hummed in approval. His thumb ghosting over your tiny bundle of nerves, but removed it before you could lift your hips and make any sort of contact, a smug smile in his lips

"Tócate" (Touch yourself)

Your nimble fingers stroked your own flesh, fast and a little too rough, trying to seek that heat you were melting into before he arrived.

"Hands off" You whined in frustration, but obeyed.

"Stop teasing!" Your voice at the verge of tears

A light slap on your soaked pussy shut you up, your hips bucked and you whimpered.

"Again. Touch yourself. Pero hazlo lento." ( Do it slowly)

The soft friction in your folds curled up your toes, fingertips dragged slow circles, his hands spreaded you a bit further, giving him a full view of you.

"Así, muy bien, preciosa." (Like that, very good)

You groaned, the pooling warmth spreaded through your body. Your free hand covered your mouth but he tapped it away.

"¿Quieres parar?" (You wanna stop?) You shook your head, fingers still caressing your clit. You had recognized the little threat in his tone.

"Then fucking do as you're told, open up. Need to hear you."

Your fingers left the caress away and once more you spreaded your flesh for him. He licked his lips at the sight. Your body trembled, the edging chipping your patience away. Two of his fingers dipped in, earning a shaky moan.

"M-Miguel!"

You croaked as he moved them ever slowly inside you. your hips bucking on his hand but he stopped.

"No." He warned and you stilled.

"Goddammit Miguel, please!"

Another light slap on your pussy, this one sent electric jolts through your legs as you sobbed.

"¿Qué te dije?" (What did I say?)

"No" You whispered, holding the sheets tightly, he was torturing.

"Again."

You shook your head and he frowned

"Uno" (One)

Still no hands on yourself.

"Dos" (Two)

Your hands went to your cunt again, he smirked

He guided your two fingers inside your pussy. The intrusion sending a little chill down your spine.

"Despacio" (Slow)

He warned as he pushed your fingers in and out, you followed, matching his speed. You cooed as he kissed your temple

"Un poco más rápido, preciosa" (A little faster)

His hot breath fanning over your ear and neck, your hand obeyed. The heat was on again, a knot forming in your lower belly. Moanings turned into breathless 'Oohs' and 'aahs' that escaped your lips at every chance they could

"Más adentro, mi amor." (Deeper, baby)

Your fingers were as deep as they could, reaching that sweet spot he loved bullying his cock into.

"No pares, preciosa" (Don't stop)

His voice didn't help. His lips nipping your earlobe, didn't help.

"Miguel" You voice an octave pitch higher. You were close. Breath caught on your throat as the imminent bliss loomed over you, stalking it's way to the brink.

"¿P-Puedo? ¿Por favor? " (Can I? Please?)

"Claro que sí, mi vida. Vente para mi." (Of course darling. Cum for me.)

Your spine finally arched as fire licked you raw. Your toes curled up, insides spasmed, you almost forgot how to breath for a moment. Fingers trapped in the contractions of your inner muscles, slowly releasing them. He licked them clean and then kissed you, a loving smile plastered in his face.

"Good girl."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#miguel o'hara smut #t writes✨#atsv smut #spiderman 2099 smut

1K notes · View notes

box-milk · 1 month

Text

Prinsesse

Genre~ fluff

Pairing ~ Ingrid Engen x Norwegian! Reader

Warnings~short, Google translated Norwegian/Spanish, not proofread.

Summary ~Ingrid decides to have a little fun of her own.

Part 2 of mami

Ingrid stepped into training with a pep in her step, a devious smile rivalling the preppy one she usually wore. Mapi, who arrived at the same time as her, fell into step with a questioning eyebrow rasied.

The Norwegian just simply continued smiling, leaving the quiet question unanswered before settling in and getting ready for the day's training session smile never leaving her face.

°•°•°•°•°••°.

The rigorous training went on in the heated barcelona sun. You and pina were practising long passes when ingrid intercepted one meant for you. "Nice try, Prinsesse." Ingrid smirked before running back to lucy, who she'd been partnered with.

You flush with embarrassment while pina struggled to pick up her jaw a the sudden interaction between the two. Every since Ingrid put at stop to your little dare in the locker room, she barely said two words to you, and the dynamic duo had to watch you walk around like a kicked puppy.

"What's with you two?". Patri searched between you both with confusion as there wasn't any movement to do your drills in 3 minutes. simultaneously, you immediately snapped out of it before returning your attention to the task at hand without any more distractions.

How wrong you were. Everyone had stopped for a 10-minute break while you continued doing touches on your own. Ingrid rolled her eyes at your inability to relax and at the fact she knew you forgot to hydrate. Ceasing the opportunity, she grabbed your water bottle and walk over to your direction.

"Have a drink, prinsesse. We don't need you fainting again, " the Norwegian says with a subtle smirk.

"No thanks, I'm ok." You're so focused on keeping the ball off the floor you didn't even recognise the nickname or the person saying it for that matter. Ingrid snatched the ball out of the air, not appreciating being ignored and you disregarding a need.

You almost whine when your streak is broken, but the taller girl just handed you the bottle with an eyebrow rasied, almost begging you to test her. Reluctantly, you took the bottle gulping down most of it when you recognised the dryness in your throat. "Also, it wouldn't hurt to take a breather prinsesse."

You almost want to argue, but ingrid just grabbed your shoulders, making you plop gently onto the grass before using her body to shield you from the sun. Behind the defenders' long legs, you can see patri and pina making a whipping motion fron the benches, causing you to place your forehead on the knee of your human umbrella with a groan hiding your heated face.

The tall brunette is confused by your actions until she turns catching the two troublemakers teasing red-handed, causing pina to accidentally squeeze her bottle of water in Patri's face before scattering the latter following after getting over the shock of water to her face. Ingrid chuckling in amusement.

°•°•°•°•°•°°

Ingrid catches you the next day in the locker room, tying your laces while humming lightly to yourself. "Hallo prinsesse."

You jump slightly, then flush in embarrassment, taking a deep breath to settle the butterflies at the term of endearment, and reminded yourself that ingrid was probably doing this as revenge and not because of common interest, the thought making you frown slightly.

Ingrid noticed and dropped her kit bag before gently taking your cheeks in her palms. "What's the matter prinsesse?"

"Why are you calling me that?". You question, trying to hide the insecurity in your voice. "If it's because of what happened last week. I'm really sorry and I would like you to stop, please because-"

Ingrid found your rambling cute, but she could see you were about to talk yourself to death cause you took no breathes between your words, so she gently kissed you.

You squeaked before your body goes frigid before you're limp against ingrid's body, leaving the Norwegian in shock as she tried desperately to revive you.

"Dios mío, engen killed the pequeña." Ingrid is startled by the new voice in the room and observed that pina looks like she's actually convinced that you're died and she is the cause.

"Pina, she's not dead, just fainted." Says in her own defence. While cradling you like a child gently tracing the outline of your face with her finger. The soothing motions cause your eyes to flutter open.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, my prinsesse." You blush heavily before scrambling behind pina using her as a human shield from ingrid's gaze. The Norwegian chuckled at your usual shy demeanour and tried to coax you out from behind the younger girl.

At your refusal at her attempts, the older girl gets slightly frustrated and shooed pina out of the room, leaving you shocked and defenceless. "Traitor." You grumbled lightly before ingrid moves closer to you until your bodies are pressed together, and like clockwork, you look everywhere but her eyes.

"I may have started this as a bit of revenge, but I do mean it. You are my prinsesse." The taller girl says while holding your cheek gently, making sure you can see her clear sincerity.

You nibble your lips lightly, trying to form a response before ingrid beats you to it. "I'd love to take you on a date. Is that OK?"

"Yes, I would love to," you say with a smile that almost splits your face open. Ingrid returns your smile before gently pecking your lips. "Tomorrow, after practice?"

"Ja, tomorrow."

"See you then, prinsesse." Ingrid pecks your lips once more before leaving the room, greeting the troublesome pair as they entered. Patri and pina glaced at your form, which hasn't made a move since they entered before you crumble again, fainting when today's events caught up to you.

"Seriously!"

"Again?!?"

○●○●○●●○○●

An: One day, I'll have a decent ending, but it looks like it's not today. (Again, this is trashhh)😭😭

#woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #ingrid engen fluff #ingrid engen x reader fluff #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #barcelona femeni x reader

422 notes · View notes

inkdrinkerworld · 2 months

Text

Stitches, Films and Sponges Baths?

Cw: fluff, shy!team doctor!reader, Dick being a flirty shit

“Nightwing B-01, injured.” Calls the electronic voice through the comms and you get moving immediately.

“How bad is it?” You ask as you snap gloves on and reach for your kit.

“Bad enough that I’ll miss seeing your concentrated face, angel.” Dick flirts and you suck at your teeth.

The moment he comes into view, you realise that as much as he flirts he hadn’t been lying.

He’s cut under his eye, there’s another on his bicep and a tear in the side of his suit.

“Who did you lose a fight to?” That gets him to open his eyes and he spots a slight frown on your lips.

“I didn’t lose, I’m just a little more cut up than you’re used to seeing me.” You clean up his face first and your frown smooths out when you realise it's more blood than wound.

“This one isn’t too bad, maybe a butterfly stitch if you really want one. It should close within the day.”

Dick reaches for your gloved hand, “Put the stitch please, angel? Don’t want you having to stare at that cut every time you look at me;” he smiles and as if he’s reconsidered his statement he adds. “Unless it makes me look rugged and even hotter.”

Your body flushes, heat rushing through you and you nibble on your lip as you set the stitch on his cheekbone.

“You look fine, can you open your eyes now?”

He does, “Missed seeing them, did you?”

“Dick,” it’s only a warning, but he likes when you say his name so it’s one he elects to ignore- on the basis of the fact that if he does, you’re going to fluster even more. And he likes that even more.

“Your bicep isn’t too bad, just a scratch really. I’m more worried about your side, so I’m going to look at that first.”

His arms reach up for you to undress him and Dick bites his tongue to keep his smile at bay when your eyes widen and your fingers drag up his stomach as you lift off the top of his suit.

You wonder if he can tell that your pulse is rioting now?

He’s always been pretty, flirty and overly friendly to you and you’ve never known where to put all that.

Dick is gorgeous, he’s been gorgeous from the moment you’d been recruited here from the Bat, but he’s also never been by himself since you’ve been here- a little bit of a relationship man and while you’d love to pursue that, you don’t know if your poor heart will handle his flirty unleashed.

“It’s not so bad, just a little jagged so the stitching is going to hurt a bit. I’m sorry.”

Dick tuts, his heart clenching at how considerate you are- then he wonders if that’s just your bedside manner.

“No need for that, I can take a little pain.”

You nod, and get started with your needles and thread, closing up Dick’s wound with a steady hand.

“These are dissolvable, but they can still rip if you aren’t careful so you’re on bed rest until they dissolve.”

“How long will that take, angel? Trying to plan how many days I have with you.”

You clench your jaw to stop your smile, but Dick takes note of the way that your eyebrows jump and your eyes crinkle with little crow’s feet.

“A week or two for the most, but you can’t go around training like usual until they dissolve.”

He nods, “So what do you say to movie nights and reading challenges all week?”

You do let yourself smile then, Dick’s proposed things you like that he doesn’t necessarily find that mind blowing.

“And what will you do?” You ask, a vote of confidence to play along with his tease.

“Probably work on some tech stuff, but we’ll at least be together so you can have all the time in the world just staring at me till you’re ready to make a move.”

You grumble and scrub your face making Dick chuckle.

“That was mean, I’m sorry angel.” He coos and you look up to find him still smirking.

“Mhm, I totally believe you,” you finish his stitch and cover it with a piece of gauze and medical tape. “I don’t think I’ll be able to spend the entire week with you Grayson. I’ve got class.”

His eyebrows jump, “Class? Did you start a new programme?”

You nod, “Behavioral analysis.” Dick smiles, a little wicked at the confession. You move to his bicep, cleaning up the blood to find three claw-like marks tearing through his skin.

“Do you need real life case studies? I’ll be happy to help you out. You can analyse my behaviour when I’m with you.”

Your belly heats, and you’re sure the way you fluster is evident to Dick and that makes you feel even more bashful.

It’s clear he does feel a little bad about how flushed he’s making you when you feel his hand reach up to your cheek.

“I’ll stop for a little, angel. Don’t want you to pass out from all the heat you’re pushing out.”

“Dick!” You whine and he laughs, a full belly laugh that makes your frown turn to a small smile. “You’re the worst.”

You finish cleaning and dressing the scratches on his bicep, they only needed a few stitches on one of them.

“Oh am I?” He coos and you grumble, biting your lip to stop from swearing at him. “Okay okay, I’ll really stop now.” He promises; you look up at him through your lashes as you pull away from his hand and start cleaning up.

“Wanna watch a film with me?” He asks as you finish cleaning, his body suddenly tired now that he’s not worried about flirting and teasing you.

“One of your black and white French films?” It’s his turn to flush a little, clearly not expecting anyone to notice his choice in movies. “You always leave the disk in, and I don’t think anyone else is watching espionage French films except you.” You explain with a little smile.

“Maybe not a French one, we can do Russian or Spanish- I know you watch those.”

You shrug, “We can trade off, one French, one Spanish.”

Dick nods, groaning as he stands. His hand pressed tight to his side. “Why don’t you choose first, angel. Gonna get Alfred to sponge me off,” he pauses at the door, a mischievous smirk on his lips as he turns back to you. “Unless you want to do it, which I have zero objections to.”

“Go get your sponge bath Grayson, I’ll be in the media room.”

#dickgrayson #dick grayson #dick grayson one shot #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson drabble #dick grayson fic #dick grayson blurb #dick grayson x yn #dick grayson x shy!reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x black reader #dick grayson x gender neutral reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x you

493 notes · View notes

kombuuuu · 11 months

Note

would u write angst with 1610 miles? Like they’re best friends and both like each other but miles is distant bc of spider-man stuff. Maybe reader tries to distract herself by going on a date but it goes bad and miles comforts her and reveals he’s spider-man and confesses to her that he likes her:,)

“Im Spiderman!”

Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

“What the hell.”

“Mi vida, listen.”

“What the actual hell.”

Of course sugar, this silly little angst WILL BE SOOOOO DELICIOUS

warnings: hurt/comfort, attempted sexual assault (not by Miles)

Miles had been distant.

He kept brushing you off, planning times to meet up and missing them. Calling you in no hurry then all of a sudden there’s a family emergency and he hangs up.

Now you would understand if it was just a few times, hell, even more than a few times you’d just convince yourself you were paranoid. But every time for the past two months?

You’d right about had enough.

If Miles doesn’t want to commit to your.. not relationship..

Then you won’t either.

—

Miles had been busy. Life had gotten ahead of him when he’d least expected it. After a year of Spider-ing (?), he’d finally settled into a nice pattern of, wake up, do things, call you, see you, call you again to make sure you got home safe, protect the innocent civilians of Brooklyn, also do illegal graffiti, then go home. And maybe text you. All of that had been snatched from under him like a shaggy rug. Tripping over his own feet and struggling to right himself.

He had some fued going on with a villain he’d heavily underestimated. Their likeness not only in fighting, but also preying. Miles had started home from his patrols more than once to find a chip attached to his shoe. Beeping only audible from his advanced hearing.

It had stumped him into a nervous stupor. Constantly worried that someone bad is going to waltz through his front door.

He was worried they would catch wind of you, and although that had always lingered at the back of his mind. Losing you had been put on the forefront the moment you came to school injured one time, saying some guy just wanted drug money, and was pretty easy to scare away. Doesn’t mean he didn’t nick you in the cheek real good. Blade running quick against your cheek, and lord were you grateful it was light.

Miles had pulled you out of class, ignoring the behest of his professor and dragged you to his secret stash of first aid supplies, locked away in an empty and unused science room.

“So why’s it here?” He glanced up at you, confused.

“Huh? What’s here?”

His puzzled expression pulled at your heartstrings, giving you some sweet butterflies. “The first aid kit, dummy.”

“Oh.. Oh! Yeah-“ he threw his hand behind his neck, blazer sleeve crawling up his arm. “Uh- For ‘mergencies..” He quickly went back to cleaning your cut, finding your gaze too strong on him, but unable to avoid it.

“This is an emergency?”

He grabbed your chin between his forefinger and thumb, tilting it slightly up and to the side, then continuing with his right hand at dabbing your cheek with antiseptic.

“It will be if you keep moving.”

You prayed he didn’t notice how hot your cheeks felt.

Once Miles finished, he caressed your face softly for a moment, relishing in the contact before he quickly packed his stuff away and rushed out of the room in an excuse of “late for class”. You stayed sitting at the table for a further two minutes before getting up gently, grabbing your bag, and leaving the ‘abandoned’ classroom.

—

You were sitting on the curb of your apartment. Wishing you could just go back inside and sleep. Miles hadn’t spoken to you for a week. You didn’t want to seem like a clingy girlfriend, but god you felt like one. You were waiting patiently on for the bud to arrive, far too early in the morning. Sat in the spot Miles would usually meet you at, you sighed down at your feet. Had you done something wrong? Your relationship had been blossoming the past few months into something you’re sure was reciprocated. There was no way that the endless supply of intimate moments between the two of you was a coincidence.

The way your whole face would light up at the mere sight of him had to be clear as day.

You swore up at the sky, watching your breath fog up in the winter air, the slow screech of your bus coming around a corner brung you back down to earth. Day dreams about a boy who you probably don’t even cross the mind of cut short.

You stood up and groaned, stretching your arms and leaned against the bus pole. Except it didn’t stop. It didn’t even slow down, and when you’d realised the driver wasn’t pulling into the parking bay, you were already too late.

“Oh- C’mon, really!” You kicked your foot against the scuffed ground, pouting at no one and complaining to no one too.

“Miss the bus?”

A man who looked to be around 17 approached you. You stepped back from him, him getting the hint and not getting any closer.

“Oh- Uh.. Didn’t mean to seem like a creep or anything,” he laughed lightly, dimples showing at the action. “I just, also missed the bus.” He gestured down to himself, disheveled clothes and messy hair.

Disheveled clothes didn’t look as good on him as it did Miles, but you smiled and hugged a laugh anyways.

This could be your chance, get out of your rut. Back into the dating scene and away from Miles.

Yet it seems you couldn’t go two minutes without him on your mind.

“Hence why I look like this.”

His eyes flickered back to yours, taking in tour appearance as well.

“Guess we’ll have to walk,”

He laughed, “Guess so.”

“Not like our clothes can get much more creased.”

That brought a genuine chuckle out of the man, eyes squinting at the sarcastic tone you held.

“Well, I know a couple ways.”

He winked at you and you huffed, following behind him as you began the treck to your school.

—

The man you met had been named Arthur. He was understanding of your humour, and pretty well in his own. He seemed king of untrustworthy, though. You just didn’t understand why, something about him made your stomach churn. Maybe it was butterflies?

You had been talking for a week before he asked you out.

The fact surprising you. Never in your life had you met someone and them be wanting to date you within the same month, let alone fortnight.

“Yeah- yeah, okay.”

Miles’ face crossed your mind in a fleeting thought, sending goosebumps along your skin and a buzz through your bloodstream.

You’d just gotten asked out by someone attractive, said yes, and weren’t told it was some joke. And yet, the mere thought of Miles brought a quake to your knees? Good god.

Cross your fingers this date gets him off your mind and his image peeled from the backs of your eyelids.

“Cool, see you Friday?” Arthur stood from his chair, walking backwards towards the door.

“Yeah, Eight good?”

“Absolutely.”

—

Arthur had met you at ten, not eight. So you had spent the better of two hours thinking you got stood up by *someone you didn’t even know.

The moment he’d stepped in front of you, the nice outfit you were wearing felt overdressed and unfitting, he was wearing the same day-to-day clothes. It felt almost embarrassing.

“You clean up nice, babe.”

The name had you near gagging.

“Oh! Uh Thanks!” You grimaced as he winked.

The restaurant you’d arrived at was fairly busy, a quaint place with hung string lights and vines crawling along the ceiling. It led out into a cute garden, where it looked to be their own food growing.

At least he knows how to pick a place.

—

Fifteen minutes into the date, you had just gotten your food. And Arthur wouldn’t, for the life of him, talk.

It was so unnatural, so absolutely awkward you had just picked at your nails until your food arrived.

He had chatted with the waiter more than you.

“So uhm.. Arthur!”

He grunted an acknowledgment and glacéd you at you before returning to his food.

“What do you do study?”

“Anthropology.”

“Cool, I’ve always liked stuff like that.”

“Uhuh.”

You were going to shoot yourself if this man gives you anymore one word answers.

After a few more busted attempts, you had given up on trying. Just focusing on finishing your food faster so you could get the hell out of here.

A man you didn’t know came over to greet Arthur, said man responding enthusiastically. Peeking up and talking with “David” about who-knows-what.

“And who’s this lovely lady?”

“Oh hello, I’m—“

“—She’s my girlfriend David, so don’t try. Maybe after a while i’ll convince her to let me share ‘er with you.”

Girlfriend? Share?? What the fuck.

David laughed whilst he eyed you, his body leaning scarily close to you. You chuckled politely, what the hell.

“Well, let’s hope she agrees, huh?” David’s sly voice sent a shiver us disgust down your spine, seeping into your bones like marrow.

“She will.” Arthur assured him. You felt sick, violated. You need to leave, you need to get to Miles.

—

Another ten minutes passed before you’d both finally left the restaurant, the air getting stuffy with so many people around, and no one to see your fear.

Arthur had insisted walking you home. Which you vehemently refuse, you don’t want him knowing where you live.

Arthur had gone quiet after that, a look of almost anger on his face.

You had stayed quiet too, not wanting to poke the bear. And after a second, he was pulling you towards him and leading you to his car.

You panicked, struggling against his grip on your forearm. “Get in the fucking car, [Name].” He’d almost growled the words, “You fucking wanted this.”

“Let go of me!”

“You accepted in the first place, now you’re not going to give me what you owe?”

“I don’t owe you anything, let go!” You cried out, his grip was painful now and he was trying to shove your body into his car by force.

You were tearing up, your breath catching in panic, you were getting weaker and he was still shoving.

Suddenly, all the weight had been thrown off of you. Your wrist now free, and the presence of Arthur gone out of thin air.

“Your parents ever teach you not to lay a hand on a woman?”

You spun around to be greeted with sight of Spiderman wrapping Arthur in webs.

He docked him in the jaw as he tried to talk back. Arthur groaning heavily.

“Oh, guess not.”

“Fuck you, man. The girl wanted it.”

“Didn’t look that way to me, homeboy.”

Arthur glared up at him then turned to you, “You wanted it. Didn’t you?” It was phrased more as a threat than a statement.

“I—“

“Whoopsie.”

A web shot out and covered Arthur’s mouth, his eyes widening in panic as he tried to scream through it.

“Slip of the finger.”

He picked Arthur up and threw him to a wall, shooting a web at him as he went to stick him to it. The impact on his head swiftly knocking him unconscious, probably concussed.

You stood in shock, not really able to process the sight in front of you when Spiderman turned back, suddenly a lot less collected and a lot more worried.

He moved quickly over to you, raising on hand to caress your injured arm and one to your cheeks, the eyes of his mask downturning in fear.

“Hey-. Hey, hey look at me.”

You did, the tears in your eyes finally falling as the situation truly dawned on you. Your lip trembled. “Oh, [Name], you’re okay, i’ve got you.”

“Spidey—“ You shivered a little in his hold. His arm snaking down from yours to holding you close to him. The other continued to rub circles into your tear-stained cheeks. “—Come here, Chiquita.”

You hadn’t even noticed the names, your name, falling from his lips. You had only registered the immediate feeling of comfort around him. Unlike the feeling of fear, primality, around Arthur. Spidey had felt more like safety, like someone you could call a lifelong friend.

He grabbed you by your waist, talking you through it the whole time.

“I’m gonna touch your waist now, that okay?” “Mhmm..” “Okay, wrap your legs around me when I pick you up, yeah?”

Humming your affirmation, you wrapped your legs around his waist while he carried the whole weight of you in one hand, spread out on the low of your back. The touch sending the first pleasant tingle of your whole night through the tips of his gloved fingers.

“Let me take you home, querida.”

Miles’s eyes squinted in the pitiful sight of you, this was his doing. If he had been there for you, this never would have happened. His paranoia for something bigger had outweighed his realistic worries. If he’s not in your life, who’s going to protect you?

The names of sweet kept tumbling out of him, making up for the weeks he’d been missing. God, even now, holding you to his chest while he swung you home. Your eyes closed and buried into his neck, ignoring the world around the both of you and finding safety in him. Even now, he’s felt better than he had in the last months.

His feet landed softly on your fire escape, the soft thud of the metal a welcomed thought. Or, maybe it was being home again, either one.

Spiderman’s right hand slid under your bedroom window, opening it slow enough as to not wake your parents.

“We’re home, [Name].”

He climbed through the indie with you in tow, leaving it open slightly as you began to undress. He turned around quickly while you put on a large shirt and sleep shorts. Trying graciously to avoid watching you through the reflection of the window.

Once you were finished, he turned around and went to grab the makeup wipes from your dresser. You giving him a quizzical look he ignored.

You sat down on the bed with your legs crossed and he followed, your knees brushing one another.

“Close your eyes.”

You did, letting him softly wipe away any makeup you had put on for the night. You sighed in content, and absurdity. What was the likely hood of your date going so horribly wrong, then being saved and comforted by Brooklyns best vigilante. Then having that very same vigilante sit in your bed and wipe the tear streaked makeup from your cheeks.

“There you go.”

You opened your eyes again, seeing his hooded face so close to yours it made your heart beat.

“Thank you.”

He leaned back, suddenly seeming nervous.

“Hey, I—,“ He stopped and breathed in deep, “,—I need to tell you something.” He sounded conflicted, scared.

Why would a crime-fighting spider be scared of you?

“Yeah, of course. Anything.”

He sucked in another breath, quicker this time. And reached up to the bottom of his mask so fast you almost missed it. He pulled it off quickly, panicky. Leaving you to stare at the soft, plush lips and Hazel eyes that could only ever replicate the fall of an autumn leaf. Or the cinnamon dusted on the baking you would do with your mother.

Miles Morales stared back at you.

“I’m spiderman!” He laughed nervously. Picking at the fabric of his hood.

He looked back up at you and sighed, a smile playing on his lips at your dumbfounded expression.

“What the hell.”

“Mi vida, listen.”

“What the actual hell.”

He dropped his mask and gathered your hands in his. Holding them against one another.

“[Name].”

“You’re Spiderman.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

You looked up at his, he was closed again. Glancing at your lips every now and again. “Miles..” You pouted at him, almost crying his name. His chest aches for you. A thick guilt rendered his voice useless, a longing for you mixing into it.

“Is this why-“ You broke eye contact. “—Is this why you’ve been ignoring me?” You whispered it, like you didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

His fingers twitched against yours, squeezing your palm and rubbing his thumbpad over the juncture between your thumb and forefinger.

“Oh, cielo.” He let out a shaky breath. Saying the term in a quaking sigh.

He watched you watch him, your glassy eyes telling him all the hurt you’ve been through.

“Baby I didn’t mean—“ He shook his head, “I didn’t mean to ignore you. I was worried that some bad people would find out I—“ He stuttered, focusing on your intwined hands once again. “I cared for you, and they would use that, use you against me.”

“I never wanted you hurt, I just wanted you safe.”

You let another set of tears fall, the relief soothing the ache of stress in your shoulders, you were still mad at him, sure. And not only for ignoring you. But for keeping such a big secret to himself. But god, you were so happy he was back.

“It wasn’t because of you, cielo. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me.”

“I’m dangerous, [Name].”

He looked back up to you in earnest, desperation and fear clouding his eyes foggy.

“You’re worth the risk.”

“God,” his breathing was heavy, deep. “,You’re making this real hard for me, baby.”

“Good.”

“Jesus christ.”

He surged forwards, using your joined hands as leverage as he pulled you closer into him.

He stopped just short of your lips, breath escaping you at the sight of him, looking as gorgeous as ever. Even with his hair in a mess and smelling like baby powder. “Please let me kiss you.” The man was near begging, desperation of a different kind now.

“Okay.”

He closed the distance, letting your eyes fall shut at the feeling. You never had felt more perfectly at peace than you had right now.

His hands let go of yours, moving up your body and landing on your hips. He shifted his weight onto his knees, leaning over you as you lowered back. You broke apart, panting heavy and laboured, “I’m still mad at you.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” He peppered you with short kissed. You’re back hitting the bed and him crowding over you, trailing kisses from your lips, to cheeks, to just below your jawline. You giggled lightly, his kisses tickling.

“‘M gonna hold you to that.”

He grinned up at you, slotting himself neatly between your legs. His right hand propping himself up beside you head, and left finding any bit of you he could hold.

“I don’t doubt it.”

He kissed you again.

—

okay maybe i lied this is also kind of long

BUT AWE 🫶🫶🫶

#miles morales x reader #miles x reader #miles morales x you #spiderverse x reader #miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #across the spiderverse

3K notes · View notes

untolduttering · 3 months

Text

Trust Me

Summary: Reader is terrified of medical needles and avoids Law when they get a deep enough cut to require stitches. They're caught, of course, and Law tries to help and calm a panicked reader.

Tags: hurt/comfort, blood, cutting, knives, medical needles, stitches, mutual pining

Word count: 2.3k

It happened so suddenly that for a moment, you could have imagined that it hadn’t happened at all. You were set to cutting some sailcloth after a run in with the navy left the sails with holes, and if not for the change in how the knife sliced through the fabric, you wouldn’t have noticed at all. The knife was sharp enough that there was barely any resistance as it gouged your arm. There wasn’t any initial pain either. You only grasped that there was indeed an injury once you stared at the wound, feeling the burn as it built and watching the blood flow to the surface, maintaining its surface tension before breaking and spilling over. You had already written off the flashes of white meat that gave away just how deep it was, telling yourself it only needed to be cleaned and wrapped. You snatched a spare piece of sail and pressed it to the wound, then took another to wrap around.

There wasn’t any need to worry, really. Small accidents like this happened all the time on the Polar Tang. Shachi scraping his palms on the rough surface of the deck as he fell, Penguin giggling behind him. Ikkaku dropping something heavy on someone’s foot, grimacing and apologizing profusely. If they didn’t, then Law would probably fall out of practice and lose his title.

That image of white meat flashed through your head again, and it coupled with the burning that only seemed to keep growing, never reaching its crescendo that promised eventual relief, made you think of the stitches that Law could possibly say it required. But it wasn’t bad enough for that, and Law deserved a break from time to time. So, you decided, this was something that you could handle by yourself. Even if Law always demanded that he was seen first in any case of injury, no matter how small, because he was the qualified one that could deem what required real attention, and he didn’t need anyone ruining the precise organization of his supplies. You could be careful, though. You knew what went where, and you only needed a few things.

Steps slowing as you made it closer to the infirmary, you listened for any sign that Law may be nearby. The Polar Tang surfaced not too long ago, and so Law was most likely up on deck still assessing the damage. You pressed an ear to the closed door, though, waiting for any movement. At the lack of any sound, you entered, and shut the door behind you. It wasn’t avoidance, it was simply a need to not be bothersome over something so unimportant.

None of the cabinets and drawers themselves were labeled, as no one but Law rifled through them, so there was no need when he had it memorized. But it meant that you had to take the time to search through each one. You had to not only keep quiet, but try and keep any blood from getting onto his things.

A scurrying of footsteps rushed past the door, causing you to hold your breath and freeze. No one came in nor knocked, but if the crew members that had been on deck were moving around, it meant that Law might be below deck now too. You picked up pace, grimacing at every rattle and creak. Finally, you found the small butterfly bandages that would hold the wound close, and the wrapping as well. Your eyes skated over the suture kit as you grabbed what you needed and shut the drawer.

“Y/n-ya.”

You felt your stomach drop to the floor. Shit. You turned, keeping your right side facing him. Using your body to block your injured left arm from view, you let it rest on top of the counter, like it had been lifted as it was to lean against casually, and not because it was hurt and dripping. You looked him in the face because guilty people always avoided eye contact. It was set in a scowl as he waited for you to explain yourself. There was no need to chide someone that already knew they were in the wrong.

“I just needed a bandage. Small cut, I didn’t want to bother you about it,” you said. You kept your tone light, nonchalant, and tried at a self-deprecating, ‘I’m just so silly’ smile. And it might just have worked, except since all your attention was on your face and voice, you weren’t in control of your body. Law, a man keenly familiar with violence, could see the tension and threat your body held. Your pupils were dilated too, blown out to a concerning proportion. It was a look that promised that if he got any closer, you might just sink your teeth in.

“Mind if I take a look?” he asked.

Continuing to refuse would be suspicious. If it really had been a measly little cut, you would have readily shown it to him just to poke fun at his worry and overbearance. You would have gone to him in the first place for a simple bandage, too. He knew this was all odd. But what else was there?

“There’s really no need,” you huffed out. “I don’t need stitches or anything.”

His eyes flitted from your face to your body. Tiny smears of blood on the fabric of your coveralls that went unnoticed at first caught his eye. He stepped forward with an extended hand. “Y/n-ya, I’d like to see it.”

Unconsciously, you flinched back. Harder, with a panicked edge you didn’t mean to let slip, you said again, “I don’t need stitches.”

“I didn’t say anything about that yet.” His voice was low, almost like he was trying to soften it.

Yet. He probably hadn’t thought of stitches, but when you said it yourself, he knew that it was worse than he had initially thought.

Law took two steps closer, causing you to turn fully forward, hands lifted. “Stop, stop it. Please.” Your throat felt like it was tightening and it made you sound close to tears.

Law was staring at your arm, now fully revealed in its red glory. So, so much red. The sailcloth was fully soaked now. His jaw tightened and nostrils flared with a heavy exhale at the sight. He lifted both hands in the air, an image of surrender. “You need to let me help you.”

You flinched again, harder this time, fully aware of those hands, that he could easily force you to do whatever. He could shambles you where he wanted, pin you down, and jam that needle in and out of your arm. You shook your head, back and forth, back and forth. You started stepping to the side, pressing against the counter, trying to get farther away, but stopped when you realized all you were moving towards was the corner. The only exit was behind Law.

Deciding to stick with a firm approach, as you had to take orders from your captain, Law said, more stern, “Let me help you.” He took one more step forward.

Your panic tripled, thrilling all throughout your body. You were a cornered animal, coiled tight from the lack of options. “I don’t need your fucking help,” you snapped.

Law felt a flicker of irritation. If you wanted to bleed out, or worse, get an infection, then that was fine. He could leave you to it if you wanted to be that way. But he smothered that feeling quickly. Yes, he could force this. He could strap you down and have it all done in minutes. That wasn’t what a good captain, a good doctor, did though. He’d win, but you wouldn’t go anywhere near him for months, not without thinking of how he handled this. You were a part of his crew. You were someone who’s pain and tears actually made his heart squeeze. This was about trust. The idea of losing yours made his own panic flutter in a way he wasn’t familiar with.

He lowered his hands slowly and let them hang by his sides. He took a few steps back as well. Gentleness was not something he was adept at, but he could try.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, truly soft this time. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do. I need you to trust me.”

The sudden change in his demeanor disarms you. You’d never heard him speak so softly, so earnestly, before. Your irrationality and the ridiculousness of your actions hit you, and suddenly your body drains, leaving you exhausted and sore. The wound on your arm is pulsating with ache. You do trust your captain. But your heart is still pounding. “I’m afraid.”

“I know.” Law's chest tightens at how meek those two words sounded. He moves now, albeit slowly, to you. He pauses right before his hands touch you, waiting for permission. You take a slight step forward, and he guides you toward the bed. He walks back to the counter to wash his hands and prep his tools.

“First I need to clean out the wound and make sure there isn’t anything left in there that can cause an infection. Then I’ll numb the area. Once fully numbed, I’ll do an interrupted stitch. That alright?”

Like you could really say no. It had to be done. But you knew he was doing it to give you a sense of control, and you gripped onto the kindness tightly. You nodded your assent.

After a thorough cleaning that has you hissing and huffing through your teeth, it's time for the first needle. Sitting again after going to the sink, you wait. Law lifts it from its place on the counter and brings it to your arm. You snap your head away, staring hard at the wall.

“Deep breaths,” he said. As soon as you inhaled, he stuck the needle in and pushed the plunger down. The cold burn of the liquid entering your arm made your breath hitch and your teeth to grind together. It was less from pain and more from the intrusion of something entering your body unnaturally. Law pulled the needle out and immediately rubbed soothing circles into the injection sight, gently as he was wary to add anymore hurt. You felt a keen disappointment when he stopped.

He placed the empty needle back onto the counter and pulled up the one chair in the room, deciding to sit while waiting for the numbing agent to kick in. He was close enough that your knees were nearly brushing. You fought back the urge to press them together.

“How’d it happen?” Law asked. He leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest.

“I was cutting sailcloth,” you said, jutting your chin toward the door, the vague gesture implying ‘out there’. “The knife slipped, I suppose. It happened so quickly.”

He hummed. “You should pay better attention. I’ll give you tasks without knives from now on.”

You pressed your lips together in a hard, thin line. As if you’d done it on purpose. “I was paying plenty of attention.”

The corner of Law’s mouth twitched upward, like something about irking you brought him joy. Instead of annoyance, something about it warmed your chest. You glared at him without any heat behind it.

He nodded to your arm. “How’s it feel?”

You poked at the edge of your wound. You felt the vertigo that came from knowing there was something touching you but being unable to feel it. “All numbed up.” Taking a deep breath, you turned your head away again and lifted your arm towards him, letting Law know he could start.

He changed gloves before beginning. He started without warning, knowing well enough that a countdown meant nothing. Nothing would change the how and why of the needle going in and out. There wasn’t any pain and you didn’t necessarily feel it, but you could sense the needle breaking through your skin, dragging through the meat, and pulling back out. You felt the same of the thread. It made your stomach churn and your head spin. You dug your fingers into your thigh, needing the pressure to focus on.

Law took advantage of your inability to look at what he was doing to do some staring of his own. Knowing that you knew nothing of sutures, he knew he could stop and take you in without you asking why he’d stopped. Your eyebrows were drawn so tight together that it caused your nose to wrinkle a little. You bit down into your bottom lip as well, the queasiness you felt obvious on your face. The sight filled him with an unexpected tenderness each time he looked, and he had to fight the overwhelming urge to cup your face and smooth out your features. He wanted nothing more than to soothe you. But it was not something he could bring himself to do. The kindest thing he could do at this moment was finish the sutures.

The worst part was that he liked having you under his fingers like this. If it wasn’t so unsanitary, he’d have done this with his bare hands just so he could feel your skin. He’d let your blood settle under his nails so he could steal that small part of you for himself.

“Finished,” Law tells you.

“Thank you, Captain.”

He puts the suture kit away and wraps your arm in gauze and bandage. “You’ll need to have me redo the bandaging every so often over the next few days. I’ll tell you when.” He could easily tell you how to do it yourself, give you all the supplies and when to do it and what to look for. But a selfish part of him needed to be the one doing it, so you’d have to keep coming back to him, so he could hear you thank him again and again.

And surprisingly, you were content to let him do so. Such ministrations made you uncomfortable, or you straight out rejected it, because you knew that to lose that attention in the future would be painful. But you felt unbearably needy when it came to him, and would greedily take whatever he gave you, no matter how little it could be.

You left, unaware of Law’s hungry gaze as you went.

#one piece #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #law x reader

742 notes · View notes

stsgluver · 7 months

Text

NOTHING NEW – gojo satoru

synopsis. gojo coming home at 1:43am (nothing new)

wc. 1.5k

tags. fluff <3333, not proofread bc i’m lazy

“baby? hey, i’m home.” there’s a light brush against your nose as gojo gently knocks his against yours, his voice coaxing you out of your sleep. instinctively, your hands reach out to him and he responds by taking both your wrists in his hands to press light kisses to the palm of your hands. butterflies flutter inside of you from the sheer delicateness that your boyfriend handles you with; the same hands capable of unimaginable destruction cradling you like you’re the most fragile ornament. you almost fall back to sleep from the feather-like touches.

gojo had been sent away on a mission, as he so often is, but for once it was fairly local to your apartment so you’d told him you’d stay up for him (even though he insisted he would rather you slept). however, it seemed that as the number of curses increased and their torment escalated, you were seeing gojo less and less and you missed him. he was the love of your life after all, he was meant to be the centre of your universe, not just another planet orbiting your story.

even for just an additional five minutes of his time, you would always wait for him.

so, even though the clock read 01:43am and you want nothing more than to curl up further into the plush sofa, you force yourself to open your eyes. gojo is inches away from your face, blindfold and uniform still on, but you can still feel his gaze on you. it’s full of love and adoration and appreciation. he’s so used to people leaving him and yet here you are on a night when he knows you’ve got work in the morning.

his lips are quirked up as he takes in your pile of blankets and uneaten snacks you had kitted yourself out with in your (unsuccessful) plan to stay awake by watching movies (you think you made it through at least one but you can’t be entirely sure).

“hi,” you whisper quietly, shifting your hands from his loose hold to cup his face. despite the fact he’s on the floor on his knees in front of you and you’re now sat upright on the sofa, he still towers above you, and you have to crane your neck up to be able to see all of his face. his pale skin is smooth under your touch and so so cold and you could only imagine the abandoned school or hospital he’d been sent to, shattered windows and a crumbling infrastructure.

“the bed’s more comfy, y’know,” gojo flashes you one of his usual carefree grins. his movements are slower than usual as he brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face and you know he’s just as tired as you are. you don’t voice your concerns – he’d dismiss them anyways (“i’m the strongest” and all that) – but your thumb gently brushes back and forth as your eyes scan every inch of skin visible to you in the dim light, searching for any scratches or wounds. there never is any.

you shake your head with a quiet hum, “not without you.” there’s a falter in his smile and you know that if you could see his eyes right now, you’d see the softness and vulnerability – a side of himself he’ll only ever be with you. there’d be guilt too – guilt that he’s not there enough and that you’re living half the life that you should be.

“i’m here now,” he sighs quietly and presses one single peck to your forehead. the two of you hold still for a moment, noses brushing against one anothers and breaths intermixing as you just bask in the other’s presence. despite the sweat and grime ruining his clothes, gojo still smells of your favourite cologne and sweets. it’s familiar and smells more like home than the apartment ever could when he’s not there.

it’s peaceful, something he rarely gets to experience nowadays. his joints ache from their constant use and lack of sleep so kneeling before you isn’t ideally what he should be doing, but it’s what he needs if it means to be this close to you.

you lift your head up slightly, just enough to be able to brush your lips against his. it only takes a second before he’s kissing you back more firmly, the barely-there-touches not enough. the kiss is slow and sweet and filled with unspoken affirmations of love.

he only pulls away to breathe and god you wish you could see those blue eyes right now. maybe they’d be staring at your lips, or your own eyes or maybe they’d be closed as he indulged himself in the sparks that your kisses left behind.

pressing one more kiss to his lips, nose, then cheek, you nod your head to the hallway, “can we get ready for bed?”

gojo’s blindfold shifts as he furrows his brows. “you can go to bed, i’ll join you in a minute baby.” his large hand pats down your hair, frizzy from sleeping on the sofa’s cushions. “you’re half asleep,” he adds with a slight tease as your head instinctively drops into his touch, eyes fluttering closed.

“if you think i’m leaving you for a second, you’re an idiot gojo satoru,” you blindly swat at his chest in response of such an outrageous offer. how dare he think the two of you can exist in the same apartment and not be less than a feet away from each other?

gojo chuckles under his breath and took your wrist into his hand, holding it over his heart. “i love you.”

your eyes open and you can’t stop yourself from grinning – like the man before you isn’t your boyfriend of years, like you’re both teenagers again confessing for the first time, “i love you more, toru.” if it were any other night he’d fake offence, starting up a playful argument in which he would emphasise that that was in fact a lie. you’d never be able to comprehend how much he truly loves you. but this isn’t any other night; this is tonight and after three nights without, he thinks he’ll give you this one.

the first thing you do once you’re both in the bathroom is lift off his blindfold, dropping it into the laundry basket next to the sink. you left the main bathroom light on so you are having to rely on the light from the hallway and the moon that spills in through the window.

gojo winces slightly still at the use of his eyes with no barrier between him and the world. you press what you hope is a comforting kiss to his jawline as you silently continue with your own routine – removing any remnants of make up and plaiting your hair.

this is usually how it goes: the two of you simple co-existing as gojo finally lets his guard down, his body finally realising the overuse and lack of energy it had been running on. then, once you’ve pat your damp face down with a towel, you help gojo with his minimal skincare routine.

“satoru,” you say once you’ve almost finished rubbing the moisturiser into his porcelain skin.

“yes, gorgeous?” he hums quietly, the ghost of a smile on his face as he looks down at you.

“i love you.”

he’s giddy when he kisses you again, dipping down so you don’t have to try and reach his height. the kiss only lasts several seconds but it didn’t need to last any longer for you not to feel all the emotions behind it; the ‘i’m sorry i’m not here enough’s; the don’t give up on me’s; the ‘please always be here when i come home’s.

“never stop.” it’s not a demand from the world’s strongest sorcerer, it’s a plea from your tired and lonely boyfriend.

several minutes later and the two of you are curled up in your sheets together. your legs are hooked together as you face each other. initially, you had tried telling him quietly about your day, something to take his mind off of whatever horrors he had experienced whilst away, but your quiet voiced melted into whispers, and your whispers into light snores as you slipped easily into an unconscious state.

“night my love,” gojo ghosts his hand over your cheek and body as his eyes take mental screenshots of every inch of you. he wouldn’t sleep tonight. tonight is all about ensuring that you are okay. he’d never openly admit to the overwhelming fear he experiences every time he leaves you alone – you, gojo satoru’s (the strongest sorcerer alive) girlfriend. he is untouchable, however you are everything but.

so tonight he’d stay awake, to hold you and to whisper sweet nothings as you shift in your sleep unbeknownst because, for as long as he is there, you are safe.

a/n. honestly not my fav bit of writing I've ever done but I found it in my drafts and I did like SOME bits so here you go. next thing I post will either be the next part of snapshot or take me back to before :)

#— toru!!#satoru #gojo drabbles #gojo x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x you #gojo fluff #gojou satoru #jjk #jjk gojo

1K notes · View notes

no-nameno-face · 1 year

Text

Taken Care Of Audio (read story first)

TAKEN CARE OF (WITH AUDIO)

Pairing: Reader x Ellie Williams

Summary: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, minors do not interact. You will be blocked. Ellies had a long, hard day on patrol, and after stitching her up she requests some TLC.

Warnings: Smut heavy, sub!reader, dom!ellie, face riding (E!receiving), oral (E!receiving), masturbation (R!), cum eating (kinda)? Praise kink, minor blood kink, pain kink, stitches, boob play (E!receiving), first time smut writing, did not proof read (but probably should have...)

Author's Notes: Soooo I've never written smut before, lmfao. I made the audio first, for my thirsty Ellie girls on tiktok but this audio got a bit… out of hand (wayyy too graphic) so I didn't want to post it on there. I had a whole scenario in mind with the audio so I figured I might as well write it down and share it here. I am also very obsessed with Ellie receiving so I subconsciously brought that to life while editing the audio. I know it's not great, but it was very fun to make and write soo.. Please be nice to me, I'm sensitive. Lol. (I put in the story when the audio clip applies, the story starts with context) I’d like to improve my writing cause this was a good time so any advice would be appreciated!!

I hear the door downstairs creak open and shut, a bit louder than normal. I can track the footsteps marching to the stairs and I listen with a small smile as the thuds make their way up. I hear soft profanities getting closer. Ellie is home.

Sitting on our bed I turn my head right in time to see the door open, grinning at her as she walks in. She has that crease in her brow that I recognize as her tell-tell sign that she had a shit day. She shoots me a sly glance before looking away to take her flannel off leaving her in a white tank, dirty and disheveled she pulls it over her head.

My eyes trace down her back, scarred and bruised. Muscular, and toned. Heart flutters, and a familiar heat builds. It's crazy how after all these years just seeing her still triggers these primal feelings. She just does something to me. She always has. My eyes stop wondering when I see a deep fresh cut following the curve of her hip.

“Shit els? What happened” I get up and pace towards her keeping my eyes on the wound.

She bends over pulling her shoes off, losing her balance a bit and mumbling a frustrated “fuck” under her breath. Now behind her, I prod at the gash and she swears again. I can feel her flinch.

“I'll go get the stitches, sit down.” I say pulling her to the bed. She hits the bed with a thud and leans her elbows onto her knees.Shaking her head “it's not that bad babe, im fine.” She looks up at me and gives a half-hearted smile.

“I know you're fine,” I say, giving her a gentle look “I just don't want it to get infected, okay?”

“Anything you say doc” she says with a smirk before turning to address the cut herself. She touches it lightly and winces when her fingers make contact. I head to the bathroom across the hall from our room and grab the small white kit from the medicine cabinet, and make my way back to our room. She's still sitting at the end of the bed, now rolling her neck side to side.

I plop on the bed behind her, “okay, are you gonna tell me what happened now?” trying to distract her as I begin stitching the gash closed. Her back flexes and I hear her sharp intake of breath. Heart flutters.

“Fucking stalkers. I hate those things” she says, shaking her head and looking up to the ceiling. “I was on patrol,”

“With Jesse right?”

“Don't remind me,” she says with a scoff that is cut off by another huff as I add a new stitch. Damn. Every breath in sync with the sutures releases a morbid butterfly into the pit of my stomach. “Yeah, I was on patrol with jesse. We were checking out that one restaurant by the lodge, and I found an entrance to the attic. That place has been cleared out for like forever, so I went up on my own and got jumped by a stalker.” she shrugged her shoulders. “Fucking thing nailed me into an old piece of plywood. Piece of shit.” I tie her last stitch off, and give her a gentle pat to tell her she was finished. I got up and made my way to the bathroom to put the kit back.

I turned in the doorway on my way out, “Maybe you should’ve been more careful.” She swings her head at me with squinted eyes. I shrug and turn, heading to the bathroom “just saying!”

“Fuck off” she calls back, I lightly laugh.

Back in the bedroom, she's lying on her stomach, head resting on her hands. “And then of course Jesse had to give me a fucking lecture about not going anywhere on my own, team communication! All that bullshit.” She turns onto her side propping herself up with one arm, “I’m just so fucking over it.” she looked absolutely exasperated. Oh how I love her dramatics. I sit facing her and her free hand falls to my hip. She looks at her hand, then up to me. Those green eyes, familiar and warm. Home. I smile at her.

“That sucks. I'm sorry. I mean Jesse should know by now, there's no getting through that thick skull of yours. What's a lecture gonna do?” I smirk at her.

“Ouch.” she sneers at me, one brow up. She lets out a quiet laugh, and looks back down to her hand on my waist. “Thanks for stitching me up babe.”

“You know I don't mind.” I say casually. She smiles, an inside joke painting a picture on the walls of her thoughts.

“So weird that you're into that.” she chuckles

“I'm not into that.. I just..” her eyes darted to mine. My heart pounded in my ears. She's right, but it was just so blunt. “There's just something about a strong woman who needs my help.” I say fawning innocent eyes, partially joking, but subconsciously egging her on. She sees right through me.

She raises her eyebrows, taking her hand from my hip and pushing herself up so she's sitting opposite of me. She smiles, “so stupid.” her eyes drift down to my lips, then back to me. I feel red flush my cheeks. Her gaze darkens slightly, noticing. She tilts her head looking at me. “I mean it's okay that you are, i'm not kink shaming” Her hand meets my thigh, electric, and she gives me a sideways smile. I gape at her, trying to make light of the tension building between us.

“So you like taking care of strong women? Yeah?” she says quietly with a smile in her voice as her eyes trace down my body to her hand. Her thumb started circling the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “Funny, you're normally the one that begs to be'' she looks up at me teasingly “taken care of.” Fuck. I feel heat pool in my belly. My knees squeeze together by their own volition. She feels it and her teasing gaze turns to something else as her eyes shift to them. She bites her lip subtly. This woman.

Her hand moves to the button of her pants, “well i did have a hard day,” she undoes it and glances at me with an evil smile. “And since you enjoy taking care of strong women” she pulled on her zipper. “Mind doing me a favor?”

Jesus Christ.

“What do you have in mind?” I say, wide eyed. I try to sound cool but my voice comes out hungry. Starved. I watch the switch flip in Ellie's eyes at my words.

“Take your shirt off.” she demanded with raised brows, and before I could think I was pulling her baggy shirt I was lounging in over my head. I'm left sitting there topless, with nothing but my black underwear on. She rolled famished eyes over my bare skin for what seemed like an eternity. Her eyes settled back on mine. I fidgeted my hands in my lap, feeling suddenly too vulnerable. She leans in slowly without breaking eye contact and my breath catches. Inches from me she whispers “Take off my pants.”

Immediately I am in her service, at her beck and call. She knows all she has to do is ask. I'll do anything for her. She leans back onto her hands and lifts her hips slightly as I peel her jeans down the soft, yet lean, curves of her hips. Down her thighs, over her knees, and then calves, my eyes tracing every line of her legs. I toss them on the floor, and look back up to her awaiting further instruction. Her eyes are smiling with a dark inflection.

“Lay down.” I looked at her confused, thinking I was the one taking care of her. Her tone was not a question however, so I obliged. I centered myself on the bed and pulled the nearest pillow under my head, keeping my eyes on her as she stood up and took her white boxers off. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her. Pretty, untamed. My knees squeeze, I don't try to hide it. She looks at them, and scans back up to my eyes. She stares into me as she walks around the bed to my side. I bite at my nail anxiously.

“I want you to take care of me, make me feel good m’kay? Can you do that for me?” she asks with a small smile. I nod.

She looks over me once again (START OF AUDIO) “fuck, you look so pretty.” She climbs onto the bed, looking at me like prey to a predator. “Be a good girl for me” she whispers, as she swings one of her legs over my head. Shit, I get it now. Her pussy meets my lips and she lets out a soft “fuck” at my eager mouth. My arms wrap around her thighs, hands gripping soft flesh. She starts to move, pleasuring herself on my tongue. She moans softly, “needed this” she says desperately as her eyes drift close and her head drifts to the ceiling. Her taste envelopes me, her wetness growing by the second with the addition of my saliva wetting her folds.

“Okay,” she moans, picking up her pace, grinding against my face. She looks down at me, before her eyes dart shut “There!” I feel her body pulse at the peak of her thrusts and I know she's found her spot. Her bud flicking roughly over my tongue. “Oh shit.. There. There we go” she continues at her pace for a moment. Her pulsing getting stronger. Her eyes snap open and peer at me “Jesus, you feel so good.” she says as her head rolls back and her eyes closed again. She continues her rhythm as I pull my arm from under her leg and skim my hand up her body “okay” she says lost in the sensation. My palm cups her right breast and I squeeze impatiently, then rub a loving thumb over her nipple, circling it. “Damn… yeah” she sighs then her hand meets mine and squeezes the sensitive flesh with me “Baby just like that.” she bites her lip with a whispered “fuck” as she rides my face.

Her moans and the graphic sound of her wetness fill the room. I reach my other hand down into my underwear and begin circling my own clit firmly, unable to avoid the tension building within my own body. “Fuck me.” she whines into the air, before looking down to me with adoring eyes, “that's my good girl.” her eyes tighten, “lets go” she whispers as she begins to grind harder and faster into my mouth. “Come on.” My hand on my core meets her pace. “Good. There. Okay. There we go” I love how she talks mindlessly when we fuck. Her voice is enough to bring me closer to my own apex. I begin moaning beneath her, unable to contain my own pleasure. She looks down at me “shhhh shh shh shh” she hushes as she pulls my hand from my aching clit before I can reach my undoing. I whimper in disappointment as she pulls my arm from beneath her leg and takes my other one from her chest before pinning them above my head in her strong hands, deepening her weight into my face. “Shut up” she corrects.

Her rhythm continues and I can tell the new pressure she's added is building her quickly. “God damn.” she says as her eyes squeeze shut. “Okay” That same wrinkle between her eyes deepens again, this time out of pleasure. She rides harder pushing the back of my head further into the pillow. Her moans grow louder, more animalistic. her hands on my wrists tighten to the point that I am sure that there will be a mark. “Holy fuck” she gasps. She pushes hard against me and I can feel the pulse intensify, her sounds grow and grow until suddenly her hands let go of my wrists and bury deep into my hair, pushing me even further into her just at the right time when her head falls back in quiet breathy moans, she rides out her high on my mouth. Her legs shaking and clit pounding as I suck against it, encouraging her. Tasting her. Worshiping her. She lets out a whimpering breath at the end of her climax and looks down at me beneath her. “Oh my god babe.” She slowly lifts off of my face and I see her flinch slightly at the air touching her sensitivity. She takes a breath before looking at me with a lazy smile.

“All right. Your turn.”

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie smut #ai audios #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x you #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie x y/n

2K notes · View notes

sjyuns · 6 months

Text

🗒️ 、WANNA BE YOURS

brother’s best friend! heeseung x fem reader 1222 words warning kissing injuries genre fluff mikaela’s note a new fav trope arises from a single hee pic… life’s absolutely crazy

“Are you even listening to me?” Jay’s voice pierces through your train of thoughts, and you almost roll your eyes in annoyance if it wasn’t for the way Heeseung gave you a small smile which made you flush in embarrassment.

You wish Jay could shut up, because then only would you be able to admire Heeseung in peace and tranquillity. His hair dripping with sweat and basketball jersey showcasing his muscular arms that glimmered under white light — Lee Heeseung looked almost god-like and unreal.

As you continue to stare at him, who looks back at you all doe eyed and full of adoration, you wince when you notice a cut on his lips. “What happened, Hee?”

Heeseung feels goosebumps present on his skin the moment you call his name, it’s the first time you’ve ever called him with such delicacy and he almost melts.

“Right, can you get the first aid kit? Some sore loser from the other team came at him after the game,” your brother replies instead of him. And Heeseung quietly thanks Jay for being the blabber mouth that he is, because there is no way Heeseung could coherently form sentences in front of you.

He thinks you look the best today out of all days, hair messy and your brother’s extra jersey engulfing you — it makes it easier to imagine his jersey on you, his name, and a big 01 plastered behind because you were the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

Eyes glued on you as you run into the bathroom, hurriedly looking for the first aid kit. “Jay,” you call, opening the cupboards only to find the kit placed unusually high up the shelves, “can you help me?”

Even from the bathroom, you can hear Jay let out a loud groan before shuffling started and footsteps grew louder as he approached the bathroom. “I can’t reach it,” you tell him, eyes focused on the kit just inches away from your reach.

“Don’t move, doll. I’ll get it for you,” and you freeze as you feel Heeseung’s chest press against your back, soft deep voice encasing your heart as he leans over you to grab the first aid kit with ease. “You’ll help me, right doll?”

You turn around, eyes towards the ground as you nod. You never once deemed yourself a shy person, but it seemed like your brother’s best friend managed to turn your stomach into a butterfly garden just by a single word and action.

Heeseung situates himself at the edge of the bathtub as he gestures you over, “don’t be shy, you weren’t when we were in the living room,” he grins with a quiet laugh, “could feel your stares from miles away.”

Heeseung, however, wasn’t really in a position to say that, because he himself felt nervous around you and he stared, he always did when you were within vicinity. Hell, he probably stared at you longer than you’ve stared at him. And you call him out just for that, “you were staring too, Hee.” You pause, a slight pout evident on your lips, “and I’m not shy.”

It’s that nickname again, the one that brings him to his knees. And he can point out every single detail that makes the way that his name rolled off your tongue different from the others. It was the gracefulness, how you made his name sound right, and it was just, you — Heeseung thinks that every word you say sounded like heaven.

“You’re too pretty not to stare at,” Heeseung says, a small smirk on his face as he watches you blush for the third time, “you think I’m too handsome not to be stared at, doll?” And you think that only Lee Heeseung could make such a narcissistic comment sound so flirty as he stares up at you with slight arrogance.

You scoff, yet the everlasting redness of your cheeks give him the answer he’d been looking for. The cotton bud in your hand steady as you stand between Heeseung’s long legs, eyes focused on the cut on his lips, trying your best not to get overly flustered by how plump and soft looking they are.

Heeseung winces slightly at the sting as the cotton bud brushes against the cut yet his eyes remain unwavering, fixed on the way your eyebrows furrowed and your nose scrunched in concentration.

“Sorry,” you mutter as you see his jaw clench and release, “I’ll be more careful, Hee.” He hums and you move in closer to analyse the cut, hands shaking slightly as you try your best not to press too hard. “There,” you whisper more so to yourself with a tinge of pride, unknowing of the small distance between your face and Heeseung’s.

Trying to calm his ragged breathing and palpitating heart, Heeseung sucks in a small breath and his eyes move from your eyes to your lips. He’s always been one who had immense self control, especially when it came to you — you were his best friend’s little sister after all, someone who was seemingly out of the question no matter what the scenario was.

And if it was almost impossible to control himself when you were metres away, it was impossible to control himself now when you’re just mere centimetres away from him. Heeseung tries to rationalise, it’s not like Jay ever gave him the sacred ‘talk’ about not doing anything to you — maybe it was because Jay trusted Heeseung, but either way, no talk meant a green light, right?

It takes you a few seconds to realise how close you were to Heeseung and you almost lose yourself at the way he looked at you. To you, it was like a fairytale come to life, especially when all you did ever since he walked into your living room three years ago was stare from afar.

But it’s real, he’s here, and you find yourself moving closer only to stop yourself. He’s Jay’s best friend, and you’d be caught dead if Jay ever saw you in this position with him, especially when he was only a few rooms away.

The small action makes Heeseung throw in the white towel, and he doesn’t think he can control himself for any longer — not when you’re right in front of him, looking like the prettiest person he’s ever seen in his life, a surreal figure from a dream.

“Can I, doll?” Hush whispers as his tongue darts across his lips, and you find yourself losing all train of thoughts in the presence of him. “Yes, Hee,” you answer and he doesn’t waste a single second to kiss you.

It’s feverish, the feeling of his lips moulded against yours. And seconds hadn’t even passed, yet you think that you’d give anything just to kiss him again. The previous swarm of butterflies have made their nest in your stomach as his hand grips your hips. You think this is what blissfulness feels like.

Even after the kiss breaks, his hands stay on your hips, thumbs caressing it as he stares at you. Heeseung thinks life’s unfair — and it is, when the only girl he’s ever been interested in is his best friend’s younger sister. And if he wasn’t certain before, Heeseung thinks he’s ready to risk it all now, even if he were to get knocked out by your brother’s punches.

#in love with this heeseung pic #⪩⪨ mikaela's #enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen soft hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen headcanons #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung fluff #heeseung drabbles #heeseung soft hours #lee heeseung #heeseung headcanons #heeseung #heeseung oneshots

726 notes · View notes

skipper1331 · 1 month

Text

Who will win? // Merle Frohms

a/n: based off this request!

"Hi" the voice of your girlfriend came whispered through the phone.

"Hey" you mumbled in responds, eyes already heavy after the exhausting day you’ve had. For awhile, no words were exchanged, only soft breathing could be heard. Merle was the one who broke the silence, her voice shaky, "will we be okay?" she asked, fearing your answer.

Tomorrow, Arsenal would face Wolfsburg in a sold out Emirates Stadium - a match that would decide which team would make it to the Champions League final as it was 2-2 on aggregate.

In an instant, you replied, "yes, of course."

Your mind had also been consumed by that thought. Would Merle be mad at you if you won? No matter who wins, what consequences will be there? What if you loose?

"Promise me?"

"I promise"

"Okay" she sighed in relief, "I love you" your cheeks turned hot, her words so full of honesty as the butterflies in your stomach went crazy.

"I love you too" you replied sheepishly, suddenly wide awake.

The keeper and you had met through mutual friends on a holiday trip, your chemistry magical since the very first moment. Yet at first, Merle was shy and reserved towards you, you were the only one she didn‘t know - well, she did know you as you were one of Arsenals greatest defenders but she didn’t know know you yet but that side was gone not even two hours later, the two of you engaged in conversation after conversation. It seemed like your friends weren‘t existing anymore as Merle only had eyes for you and vice versa.

After your trip, Merle couldn’t stop thinking about you, so she texted you, wanting to know if you arrived in London safely. It was just an excuse, although she actually wanted to know if you made it some safely, only she was hoping for another conversation with you in return - maybe one that didn‘t stop. Her prayers had been heard - you started texting nonstop. Soon texts started to turn into calls and your 'friendship' blossomed.

In the winter holidays, you visited Merle, the moment your friendship turned into more as she had kissed you under the mistletoe.

Now, two years later, your relationship was going strong.

The two of you continued the phone call for a bit before yet another yawn let your mouth, "my love, it‘s getting late. I‘ll see you tomorrow" the german whispered.

You hummed, eyes already shut as you heard the final "I love you" of the night. With that you drifted off to sleep, thinking about the blonde.

The next day rolled by earlier than you wanted to. You were excited, the emirates was sold out, playing an important match on home soil - you couldn’t be more excited yet you were so scared. What would happen? Your mind was not only occupied with the question what happens between Merle and you but will someone get injured? You feared that every time you stepped on the pitch.

You didn‘t see your girlfriend until the lineups in the tunnel, the girl looking good in her kit.

You shot her a quick smile which she returned with a nod - when Merle was in her game mode, in the zone, nobody could distract her. This match was just as important to her as it was to you. Nobody was allowed to make a mistake otherwise you might loose.

Stina opened the score in the 11‘, Jill equalizing in the 41‘ - your former teammate. You knew it was her job to score when she had the opportunity but you weren’t going to lie, it hurt when she did. But also, you were incredibly proud of her - she was your friend after all.

Despite Arsenal and Wolfsburgs chances and effort, the half time score stayed 1-1.

Though that changed when VfL had a corner kick - the one and only Alexandra Popp scoring a header, as usually.

2-1.

You felt frustrated, blaming yourself - should you have been at her side? When you felt a double clap on your back, you were called back to reality. No one was to blame. Popp was an incredible player.

You prayed for an equalizer.

And as if your prayers have been heard, Jen scored with a beauty of a header.

The game continued, Wolfsburgs had their chances as Arsenal had them too. But nothing seemed to work.

After 90+ minutes, the ref blew the whistle.

The score 2-2.

which only meant one thing.

Extra time.

Your nerves were on a high race. What will happen in that extra time? What will not happen? Will there be penalties?

You were, after Kim, the person who took the penalty. Your penalties were always perfectly shot, they always slotted in the goal - the goalie nowhere near. Yet if you had to take a penalty in this game, it would be different.

Merle was in the goal.

Your girlfriend.

The one person who knew you better than anyone.

Huddling together, Jonas gave some strict orders - how to play, how to create space and chances. This wasn’t any club, this was Wolfsburg and they were one of the best german teams - if not the best. You had to be focussed and give 101%.

No mistakes were allowed.

You did the biggest mistake.

The teams dream of making it to the final, possibly winning it, was thrown in the bin when Manu passed the ball to you. You don’t know what happened, one second you had the ball and in the next second Jule Brand had it. Despite your effort to get it back, you knew it was too late as she assisted it to Pauline Bremer who slotted it in. Your world seemed to stop spinning.

3-2 in the 119‘

You embarrassed yourself in front of a recorded crowd and because of you the team was about to loose.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Arsenal lost.

They lost because you made a mistake - a mistake that decided the game.

Wolfsburg would go to the final in Eindhoven, Arsenal would stay at home. Tears slipped out of your eyes as you covered it up with your jersey while you stood in the middle of the pitch, devastated about the massive loss. Everything fell to deaf ears as you were stuck in your anger and disappointment. You ignored everybody who had approached you until you heard a familiar voice, the voice you loved so deeply.

"Hey" she said.

You didn’t reply.

"You played great" she kept her distance, not knowing if you wanted her to hug you or to leave you alone. She respected either way.

"You‘re glad I fucked up, hm? Secretly, laughing at me"

It took Merle off guard, "what? What are you talking about?" her eyes were wide, brows furrowed.

Indeed, she was happy that her team won but she felt devastated for you, not only because of the loss in general but that you caused it. It will haunt you for a while.

"Oh, don’t act all innocent now! You cannot tell me you didn’t like it, can you? My mistake, Pauline scoring the winning goal… Merle Maschine Frohms, you‘re going to the final. Congratulations" you told her bittersweetly, patting her shoulder before walking away.

The goalkeeper could only watch. Normally, 'Merle Maschine Frohms' was a running gag between the two of you but now it seemed like it was an insult.

"Didn’t go well, I assume?"

After the team talk, you fled the scene. You didn’t want to be here anymore. Your expression was stone cold as your jaw was clenched. You went for a quick shower, you couldn’t be bothered to take your time, all you wanted was to go home and watch your comfort movie while eating chocolate or ice cream.

Leaving the stadium felt like a relief, anger and frustration slowly leaving your body as guilt, blame and disappointment made its way up.

You knew what you said to Merle was wrong and that she most likely felt bad for you as you had talked many many times about situations like these - not knowing they would ever happen again.

After the euros final, the topics about winning and losing have been brought up and talked through, even though nervousness and anxiety filled both of your bodies nights before those matches.

You didn’t mean to snap at her, your anger just had controlled your body and not your mind.

And right now, you couldn’t see that. All you could see and feel was disappointment.

You disappointed yourself.

You disappointed your team.

You disappointed every fan in the stadium.

You disappointed everybody.

You fell asleep on the couch, eyes puffy, ice cream melted in the bowl as weird tv shows played. Messages from your family and teammates on your phone - no message from Merle. You felt even more disappointed yet understood due to the circumstances.

She didn’t text you nor did you text her. You didn’t know if you should or even wanted to or if she wanted you to.

The days after the match went by awfully slow and very robotic. For your teammates, it seemed like you didn’t realize the loss yet somehow like you realized the loss too much.

But after a week, when the feeling of missing started to hit, disappointment and guilt fading away step by step, you decided to call Merle. You wanted to make things right. It was Merle after all, the girl: who loved you unconditionally, who kissed your wounds, who believed in you when you couldn’t believe in yourself.

You waited and waited and waited for her to answer until it eventually rang out, she didn’t want to talk to you. Sighing in defeat, you flopped on the couch.

Merle🪄

please call me back

She never responded.

It wasn‘t that she didn’t read it - she did, right after it was sent - yet couldn’t be bothered to answer.

Was this the end?

You checked her instagram - were the pictures with you still up?

They were.

Every time your screen lit up you hoped it would be Merle and each time you got disappointed when you saw that it wasn’t her. What was happening? Why did you have to snap at her?

It was two days later when Merle finally decided to call you back. It was in the middle of the night, you were at the verge of falling asleep.

Groggily, you picked up the phone, not even looking at the caller id.

"Hello?"

"Hey"

"Merle" your breath hitched, suddenly wide awake. Nothing mattered anymore, it didn’t matter that it was in the middle of the night or that you had training early in the morning. All you cared about was saving your relationship.

Silence held the line until a small whisper came, "you‘ve hurt me-"

"I know"

"Well, you didn’t insult me but I don’t know, snapping at me? I just wanted to comfort you. You promised me-"

"I promised you we would be okay"

"And we are not"

"I want us to be"

The silence that followed was deafening, you felt like this was the moment.

She will break up with me

"Merle?"

silence.

"I‘m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to snap at you, everything just came crashing down on me and I know this is no excuse. I was just- I don’t- I’m sorry"

silence.

"I love you"

You had already lost hope before "I love you too" came. "I don’t know why I got so upset at you, I had no right to, you had lost and I understood your emotions, but all I wanted was to comfort you. I‘m sorry that I didn’t give you some space or respected your boundaries. I want us to be okay, too, I really do."

"You do?" you asked surprised.

"Of course, I’m so in love with you, you can’t even imagine"

The biggest smile started to make its way on your face, cheeks flushing red, skin tingle.

"I‘ve missed you"

"I missed you so much"

All the built up feelings from the last week, washed away. There was no guilt or anger due to your mistake in the match, there was no sadness and sulking anymore - all there was, was love and happiness.

The two of you started one of your endless conversations, updating what had happened the last days or upcoming events - Merle purposely avoiding the uwcl final. She wanted you there more than anything but now wasn‘t the right time to bring it up.

The next weeks went by fast, you were back to your usual persona, socializing and cracking jokes as you slowly but surely learned to accept that mistakes happen.

Only one and a half weeks left before the final, the goalkeeper decided to bring it up because she really wanted to see you in the stands as her supporter.

Not thinking about her words, she blurted it out while you were in the middle of your sentence, "i want you to be at the final" she said, the kitchen in her flat suddenly super interesting. What felt like an eternity for her was in fact only a few seconds, your answer so supportive and loving, "yes, of course. Leah, Lia and I already have tickets and our flights are booked"

Your girlfriend stayed silent for a moment, "I was afraid you didn’t want to come" she admitted, cheeks turning red out of embarrassment.

"What? Why? I always want to see you play!" you beamed, "you’re in the champions league final, baby!" You pushed the little sting in your heart away, fully focused on Merle. If you couldn’t win the trophy, none other than your girlfriend should win it. You were her number one fan. So, as soon as things were made up with her - you weren’t sure if she wanted you there when things were complicated between the two of you - you texted in the group chat with Leah and Lia that you‘d join them.

"I thought maybe- I don’t know"

"No, baby. I always want to watch you play, always. And I’m so proud of you, you will win that trophy" you exclaimed, your index finger subconsciously drawing hearts on the couch.

"I love you"

The goalkeeper felt so relieved. With you being in the stands there couldn’t go anything wrong. She would not only try to win that trophy but to impress you.

"Stop being so jittery" the England captain stated as she rested her hand firmly on your knee to stop it from wobbling.

Already on the way to the stadium you couldn’t shut up about seeing Merle and her team, the atmosphere, FC Barcelona and so on. Somehow you were starstruck and so excited.

"Look! There’s Merle!" you cut the LW‘s off in their conversation, tapping Lia‘s thigh rapidly.

"Yes, we can see her" she chuckled, your eyes shining with hearts. "Isn’t she so pretty" you admired. She looked so stunning in her kit. "You‘re drooling" Leah chipped in, laughing at you when your hand flew to your mouth, checking if there was drool - there wasn‘t.

"LET‘S GO!!!" you yelled when Ewa Pajor scored the opening goal in the 3rd minute. Green shirts everywhere in the stadium, cheering for their team as they went in the lead. Lia and Leah watched you with an amused look while they held their facial expressions neutral about the game.

"YES!!!" you cheered even louder when the second goal came flying in from Alex Popp - that women an absolute legend with her incredible headers.

The first half Wolfsburg played phenomenally as they created chances, defended and got two goals.

Yet when the second half started everything went downhill. About 5 minutes into the game Patri equalized. The stadium started to roar, the Wolfsburg players looking helpless.

Though, you had to admit that it was brilliantly played from Barcelona, even though you felt bad for Merle as she conceded two goals within two minutes.

Every minute that went by from then on, the game got more intense and physically. Fouls and cards were called out, every player on the pitch wanting to win.

When Rolfö scored in the 70th, you slumped back in your chair, grumbling about the game. How was Merle supposed to save that? She stood no chance!

You had a feeling that it was the last goal you would see off the game. And it was confirmed around 30+ mins later when the referee blew her whistle.

Devastated, you watched as the players in green collapsed on the floor, all of them crying or at least with tears in their eyes yet your eyes glued on the goalkeeper in blue. She must feel horrible - a feeling you knew better than anyone.

In all honesty, Merle wasn‘t to blame for the loss and neither were her teammates - their performance was great, just not enough in the end.

Like in trance, the german international made her way over to you - she needed your comfort. She needed your hugs, your touch and your love. She just needed you.

"Hey" she mumbled as she stood in front of you, her teammates also near her as you sat in the family and friends section.

"Come here" you opened your arms, the girl hugging you as if her life deepened on it, sobbing in the crook of your neck. You hand cradled her head while the other one rubbed her back in a calming and gentle manner. "I‘m proud of you" you whispered, sweetly kissing her temple before you let cry as long as she needed in your shoulder.

After sweet nothings and a long hug, she stepped back, looking at you with doe eyes, "i‘m sorry I couldn’t win."

Your hands cupped her cheeks as your thumbs wiped away the tears, "I love you" you couldn’t say anything else, it would have been wrong to say 'you played great' even though she was blaming herself for the loss right now. Instead you stood on your tip toes, pressing your lips against her left cheek, then right cheek before finally her mouth which resulted in a little smile. It was a kiss so gentle and tender, healing and caring, loving and promising. But most importantly - it was your kiss.

So, in the end, sadly, neither of you won the trophy but the comfort you had in each other seemed like a win in a loss.

#merle frohms #merle frohms x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #arsenal wfc #vfl wolfsburg #vfl wolfsburg frauen x reader #dfb frauen x reader #gerwnt #gerwnt x reader #dfb frauen #vfl wolfsburg frauen #frauen bundesliga #jule brand #lia wälti #leah williamson #alex popp

180 notes · View notes

hillbillyoracle · 1 year

Text

For those with home related New Years Resolutions:

I’ve been a disabled homemaker for 5 years now so I wanted to share the resources that have helped me take our home from complete chaos to reasonably functional and enjoyable.

If you’re not functioning...

If you’re constantly tripping over things and getting injured, eating food that makes you sick, dealing with pests in the home, and struggling to complete basic tasks like feeding, clothing, and bathing yourself, then you should start with...

KC Davis aka StruggleCare aka DomesticBlisters

TikTok

Book

Podcast

Website

I recommend KC Davis’s stuff with a big heaping dose of “keep what works and leave what doesn’t.” She’s one of the few people I’ve seen talking about compassionate care focused on maintaining a level of personal functioning rather than maintaining a home. Her stuff has been very helpful to me during some very challenging times.

I think her some of her best work is probably her videos on the 5 step tidying process, the ones on setting up bedside hygiene and food kits, and the ones on dealing with DOOM (Didn’t Organize Only Moved) boxes.

That being said she has a tendency to use neurotype as a shield for not reckoning with other dynamics in a situation (gendered, narcissism, etc) when asked for advice by viewers which can lead to this “all people with neurodivergence are good” vibe which I find off putting (especially as an autistic person). I mention it because her bleh stuff was all I was coming across and I missed out on her good stuff for a while. It’s worth picking through though.

Her book is a little better on the whole.

If you’re functioning but still very overwhelmed...

If you can complete your daily activities of living pretty regularly but you’re still losing papers you need, rebuying items you didn’t realize you had, or looking around your home at a mess that feels impossible to clean, then check out...

Dana K White aka A Slob Comes Clean

YouTube

Website

Podcast

Books

I love Dana K. White’s stuff. Honestly, I recommend her to every level on this list but I think she probably shines brightest in this category.

Her 5 step decluttering process is pure fucking gold. It’s a decluttering process that doesn’t rely on feelings at all - really helpful for those with trauma or alexthymia generally. She has multiple videos explaining it and even more where you can watch her go step by step with someone over the course of an hour and make a huge dent in some very overwhelming mess. Its the process I’ve used to go through over 50 moving boxes to declutter so we could fit in this much smaller space we moved to in April.

Her day to day cleaning advice is also excellent. Her concept of dishes math has really helped me make decisions about what chores to focus on when I’m low energy. Her 14 Days to Opening Your Front Door series is amazing if you’re having to host for a given occasion but your home is a wreck.

If you’re not painfully overwhelmed by your stuff but there’s still a lot of friction in your home...

If your stuff doesn’t overwhelm you but your home still doesn’t feel that good to be in, you’re still not finding things when you need to or it’s taking you a long time to find them, you create homes for things but they look terrible or they never seem to stick, then you’d love...

Cassandra Aarssen aka Clutterbug

YouTube

Books

Website

Podcast

Clutterbug types were kind of a game changer for me. It’s what really opened my eyes to why the systems that worked for me did not work for my partner. She is a Bee - lots of small categories that are all very visible - and I am a ladybug - big bucket categories that aren’t visible. When I reorganized our space according to the compromise between our types, Butterfly - big categories and very visible - all of a sudden the systems just worked so much better. There were many fewer fights sparked by things not getting put away or not being able to find things. So I really recommend her videos on the different types and examples of each.

Quick word of warning, she does have regular videos about diet and exercise that I personally find pretty triggering to my disordered eating habits so I’m not subscribed to her and just check her channels every now and then so it’s easier to skip over videos where that might be a topic she talks about.

Cliff Tan aka Dear Modern

TikTok

YouTube

Website

Book

Cliff Tan’s work is the most recent of these resources that I’ve come across but holy shit I cannot recommend it enough.

Because my parents didn’t originally intend on my partner using the room she wound up using, there’s simply not space to keep some of the furniture and items in there anywhere else. Meaning she just kind of has to keep a fair bit of junk in there. But after watching (read: binging) the Dear Modern YouTube channel and seeing him completely change spaces by moving furniture around, I redid my partners room over the course of about 2 hours and it’s a completely different room. Way more comfortable and she’s already mentioned she’s getting much better sleep.

So I really really recommend his stuff. Sometimes what you really need isn’t new stuff but just rearranging what you already have.

If you’re pretty content with your home but want to streamline the process of caring for it...

If your home is pretty functional but regular tidying, deep cleaning, and maintenance tasks specifically keep falling through the cracks, then you might like...

FlyLady System

Website

The Secret Slob - YouTube

Diane in Denmark - YouTube

There are lots of systems out there for house keeping but I’ve yet to try or see one that seems to do better than FlyLady for me. Since with my illness my energy varies wildly, I don’t necessarily do things when her system recommends but I do them according to the priority her system ascribes to them as I’m able.

FlyLady is a notoriously convoluted website so I really recommend learning from a secondhand source. The Secret Slob and Diane in Denmark are my favorites.

Maintenance Lists

This Old House

There a lots of maintenance lists out there and honestly finding one and doing what you can is better than nothing. I personally like the ones from This Old House because they’re broken up into annual, seasonal, monthly, and some weekly tasks - which are essentially priority categories, similar to FlyLady. I’ve linked the winter one here but there are many others to pick through depending on what you want to work on.

Bonus: Paper Clutter

My System

Link

This is what I’ve arrived at after years of experimentation. It’s an amalgam of a few different ideas from different systems in one place. I keep mind on my fridge but put yours where ever you’re dumping paper anyways. If you’re in a room or live in a car/backpack - I have ideas on how to organize it for those in this post too.

Sunday Basket

YouTube Video

The Minimal Mom’s Video

She’s in Her Apron Video

Need something a little more robust? The Sunday Basket is probably be best version of a paper (and other stuff) system I’ve seen. Got something that needs dealt with? Chuck it in the Sunday Basket. The creator also has videos on long term paper storage ideas if that’s something you need as well. But her videos usually run an hour long so I recommend starting with either the Minimal Mom’s video or She’s in Her Apron’s video.

Bonus: Digital Clutter

PARA System/Building a Second Brain by Tiago Forte

YouTube Channel

Website

Book

Essential Video

The branding on this system can be very productivity tech wonk which is off putting to me but when I finally started hearing what was at the core of it and applying it - my digital life was changed. I’ve linked my absolute favorite video he’s done here. Ignore the bit about it being the last in the series, most of us are already using some note app and if you like it you can always go back and watch the rest. But just applying what’s in that video to your digital systems will make things easier to find.

Hope this helps someone out there!

#homemaking #housekeeping #getting your shit together #organizing #adulting #life skills #home #decluttering #studyblr

2K notes · View notes

shadowbriar · 4 months

Text

Matt Murdock - Scratches

Pairing : Matt Murdock x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 2.2k Warning : Injuries, nothing graphics. Matt being dumb that he inflicts injuries to himself. A bit of angst I think. Synopsis : The lack of knowledge about her wellbeing is doing everything but put his mind at ease and Matt wasn’t sure how long he could live with such torture. Notes : Special work for my precious @basementsoup. I hope you like this Alex! ♡ If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Matt hated it.

He hated having to admit that he still needs her. That even after months of separation, the many helping hands he found and friends he could’ve come to, he still found himself scrambling back to her apartment. He hated that in the lowest moments in life, her soothing touch and gentle words were the only thing that helped him stay afloat.

But nothing beats the hatred he felt when he finally managed to get inside. He hated how there’s a new pot of sunflowers placed by the widow. He hated how the pictures on the walls are now gone, replaced with what seems to be mirrors and other wall decorations. He hated, the most, how his scent no longer lingers in the air.

Before he could drown himself deeper into the wallowing, the sound of keys jingling and door knob twisting were heard. His heart paced for a split moment. A short period of regret washes over him. Perhaps he shouldn’t have barged in tonight.

“Matt,” She called, surprise was evident in her tone. Her heart skipped a beat and Matt wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the reasoning for it; is she glad to finally see him again or is she hating their reunion?

“I broke your pot,” He says instead “I didn’t realise you'd done some redecorating.”

“Yeah, I, uh.. I needed a change of setting.” She answers as she takes off her coat, tossing her bag to the floor once she realises his bruised face “Oh, God, not again.”

Matt tries his best to suppress the blooming smile on his face as he feels her fingers examining his face, “It’s just a light scratch.”

“You always say that,” She protests “I can find you on your deathbed, bleeding away, and you’ll still say it’s just a scratch.”

“Has it ever been more than a scratch?”

Matt knew that she must be glaring at him right now. The change in her breathing is clear for him to tell that he’s bruised her patience. But even with annoyance and vexation boiling her blood, her care and worry for him will always overshadow it.

“Come, I’ll clean your wounds.” She says as she holds his arm.

A small kaleidoscope of butterflies flutters in his heart. She knew that he could navigate himself to the sofa. He only broke the pot because he wasn’t expecting any change of setting in her apartment but now that he knew, he’ll be sure to be more careful in moving around, so there’s truly no need of her to guide him this way. Yet again, why would he complain?

“What is it this time?” She asks as she went to the cabinet to get her aid kit “Fisk? Castle? Some thugs?”

“Would you believe me if I say I fell off the bed?”

She turns and eyes him with a glare.

“Alright, not the bed then,” He jests “Stairs. I fell down the stairs.”

“Not funny, Matthew.”

“What, can’t a blind man fall from the stairs?”

She lets out a sigh. Matt could sense her defeated shoulders from the way she dropped the aid kit, “You wouldn’t come here if you only fell from the stairs, Matt.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

Truth is Matt has tried his hardest to stop himself from seeing her. He’s fought every urge to jump out of bed at night and come to her. Every little thing in his life pushes him to get closer to her. Like a magnetic force he couldn’t seem to escape. He wanted to ask her what tea he should get from the grocery shop. He wanted to ask her if he should wear the blue or the red tie for the court trial the next day. He wanted to ask her if he could borrow some sugar though the trip to the grocery store is far closer than having to walk to her apartment.

Anything that happens in his life, he wanted to share it with her.

“I don’t want to have this conversation again, Matt.”

“I know,” He nods, licking his lips as he tries to show an apologetic smile “I’m sorry.”

Matt could feel the sofa shifting when she took a seat next to him. He could smell the water from the bowl on her lap and the rest of her aid kit that are now laid on the table. This feels painfully nostalgic. To have her tend his wounds yet for the first time, he knew that he won’t be getting the one true cure he needs — her kisses.

“Are there any other bruises or wounds than the ones on your face?” She asks as she begins cleaning his skin “One of these days you’re gonna need to get yourself a real professional help. Like a personal nurse or doctor. I won’t be here forever to help you.”

“Won’t you?”

“You’re not exactly the easiest patient to tend to,” She answers with a teasing smile “I’d say the chance is pretty high.”

“But I’m your only patient. You need a comparison to say that I’m the worst of your patients.”

“No one can be this much of a pain in my ass than you, Murdock. You know that.”

Matt only smiles at her remarks. He wanted to bask in this moment. To suffocate himself with her gentle touches. To hear the beat of her heart that has become his personal ballad. To know that no matter how far the distance between them grows, she will forever be his true north.

Her movement was put to a short halt when her fingers bruised his lips. He can’t see her but he hopes that the longing in his face is mirrored on her. That she misses the feeling of their lips touching. That she misses the feeling of his lips whispering sweet nonsense in her ear. That she misses him too.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” She says instead as she abruptly stands from her seat “If you don’t have any other injury, I think you’re good to go.”

Matt forces a laugh, “What just happened?”

“I don’t know, Matt, you tell me! What are you doing here?”

“I told you, I fell down the stairs.”

“Yeah, and you couldn’t have asked Foggy or Karen to help with your wound?” She asks, her volume slightly rising in frustration “Do you even feel those wounds? Because I know you have that superhero metabolism thing and I’ve seen you get worse injuries. You can’t just come here, spend half an hour to get to the other side of the city, just to get some bandaid for your scratches.”

Her heartbeat has gone frantic now. Matt could feel the frustration, the anger, the disappointment from all the words she uttered, but the most evident thing he could hear was how much she worries for him. How much she wanted to embrace him as she once did. How much she wanted to show him the love she hoards for him, even without saying it out loud.

It had been a few painful weeks leading up to their separation. He could hardly remember the last time he’s slept a wink. There’s always someone crying for help, someone screaming in agony, wailing in pain and despair that he just had to go out there and lend a hand. And even with all of his God gifted abilities, there’s only so much he could take before he succumbed to his demons. And unfortunately, this is one of the few battles he has to admit losing.

Even up till this moment, Matt still tries to convince himself that he didn’t regret ending things between them. It needed to be done. He had to make sure that the Daredevil and his business wouldn’t come between him and her. He needed to make sure that the enemies he made along the way would never find their ways to her. He needed to make sure that when the Daredevil himself had to make penance for his sins, he wouldn’t drag her along with him to hell.

And the only way he could save her is to cut the relationship clean.

But Matt is as much of a selfish man as the next person. He couldn’t keep away from her for too long. The thought of her moving on peels his skin when it should’ve given him the satisfaction and fulfilment. The way her shampoo no longer lingers on his pillowcase gives him nightmares. The distance that he thought would be her safety net soon turns into a limbo of anxiety and worry. The lack of knowledge about her wellbeing is doing everything but put his mind at ease and Matt wasn’t sure how long he could live with such torture.

“I didn’t lie when I told you I fell from the stairs,” He explains softly “I— I’ve been wanting to come and see you but I just— I don’t know how.”

Her heartbeat slows, completely focused on his words now.

“I thought about purposely messing up my laundry and calling you for help. I thought about using that wrong detergent for our— my blankets, but I know you’d never forgive me.” He confesses, a pathetic chuckle escaped his lips “I mean, I wouldn’t want to ruin those blankets, to be real. They’re precious to me. We use them for our movie nights.”

“So you figured you just fell down the stairs?”

He shrugs, a small embarrassed smile curved on his face, “I had to make sure you won’t kick me out and slam the door on my face.”

“You’re an idiot, Matthew.”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” She seethes, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves and running a hand through her hair in frustration “You— You can’t just end things between us and suddenly barges into my apartment, begging me to clean your self-inflicted wounds. That’s not how things work, Matt. That’s— That’s cruel.”

And that’s when he feels it. The foul taste of salt from her tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. The night just keeps getting worse and worse, so it seems. It was never in his intention to make her cry though he’s got to admit that he’s done that one too many times. He only wanted to see her, to feel her touch one more time, not to cause an even greater pain to their gashing wound.

“What do you want from me, Matt?” She painfully asks, her voice cracks from the heartache “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Is that what you want? For me to leave you alone?”

A bitter laughter escapes her lips, “I want you to love me, but that’s clearly not on the table, so I suppose being left by you would be the best option.”

Carefully, Matt stands from his seat and walks toward her. He reaches for her face, feeling the wetness of her cheeks under his calloused fingers. It pains him to see her this way. To know that he’s caused her more pain than happiness. All because he thought he knew better when clearly he didn't.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you,” He confesses “It’s because I love you that I ended things between us.”

Matt could feel the skin on her forehead scrunching, clearly from the confusion of his words.

“It was becoming unsafe for you to be with me. I made too many enemies, too many people that wanted to avenge their anger to me and it was only a matter of time before they knew about the one thing that would hurt me most and I can’t— I can’t risk that.”

“So I’m, what? A weakness?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you are my weakness,” Matt says with a nod “And I couldn’t care less about having a weakness, believe me I don’t care about my soft spots, but you..” He pauses, cupping her face gently as his eyes become glossy “You.. You, I cannot ignore. Just the thought of someone, laying a hand on you, hurting just a strand of your hair.. It drives me nuts. I care more about you than anything. So if staying away from you is the only option I have, if it’s the only way I can minimise the risk of harming you..”

A tear finally rolled down his cheek. It feels liberating to finally confess all of his reasoning, to finally let her know the cause of his discourteous actions, but there’s still no solution to their problem. There’s still a huge question mark for them to tackle and he wasn’t sure if he’s ready to reach that point yet. He wanted to still feel her touch, to hear her calling his name even if they’re filled with her venomous tone.

“Matt—”

“Tell me,” He cuts in, trying to recollect himself from the turmoil “Do you want me to leave? Would it be best for me to leave you be?”

“No, no I never want you to leave.” She answers as she pulls him for a hug, burying her face to his chest and wetting his shirt with her tears “Don’t leave me, please.”

Matt welcomes the embrace in no time. He pulls her close, making her stand on her tippy toes as he lifts her. He misses this. The warm scent of her perfume, the pressure of her on his body, the feeling of her heart beating against his chest. This feels like home. She feels like home.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers to her ear “I’m sorry for everything.”

“I don’t need your apologies, Matt. I just need you to promise you’ll stay this time.”

He nods eagerly, pulling her impossibly close to make sure that she hears him, “I promise.”

#matt murdock #matthew murdock #the daredevil #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock scenario #matt murdock scenarios #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock oneshot

339 notes · View notes

void-wolfie · 10 months

Text

Falling Head First

summary: you're a bit clumsy, it's a good thing Jenna's always there to pick you up when you fall. [request]

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

tw: none? terrible writing lol... (let me know if I need to add anything)

words: 2.22k

a/n: hope this is what you were looking for anon. Sorry it took me so long to get to your request.

You skated past that house again, the one where the kids were always outside playing. The one where that pretty girl lived.

Except this time, there weren't any kids outside goofing around. Just her. That pretty girl who was roughly your age, maybe a bit older. She had her headphones in and her nose buried in her phone as she sat on the front porch.

You always rode past her house, hoping maybe one day she'd stop you and say hi. You'd stop yourself, but you just couldn't... Your mother called it being shy, your therapist liked to call it social anxiety. Either way, you couldn't bring yourself to talk to her. Or anyone really. Too many what-ifs... What if she laughed at you? What if you embarrassed yourself? What if she hated you? Or called you stupid? Or-

Lost in your thoughts, you'd completely missed the rock in the road. Your skateboard darted out to the side, throwing you head-first into the pavement.

You rolled over onto your back, trying to brush off the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Everything hurt, but nothing felt broken, right?

"Oh my god, are you ok?" You looked up to notice the girl rushing towards you, looking fairly concerned.

"Uh-" You looked yourself up and down, nothing felt broken, nothing looked broken, "Fine, I think,"

"You're bleeding," She kneeled beside you, softly tilting your chin to get a better look at your head.

She prodded at the corner of your forehead with her finger. You instantly recoiled, hissing at the stinging sensation.

"Sorry, sorry," She backed away, leaving the cut alone. "You're not gonna need stitches, come on, let me get you patched up,"

She stood up and held out her hand, offering to help you up.

Your mind was reeling. Why was she being so nice to you, the two of you were strangers…

"Uh, thanks," You took her hand, letting her help you up. It was either let her help clean you up, or skate home with blood dripping down your face. Might as well pick the option with the pretty girl, you thought to yourself.

You picked up your skateboard and followed the girl into the house, leaving the board by the door so as not to track dirt through the whole place.

"I'm Jenna, by the way,"

"y/n,"

She pointed at the toilet and you sat down, wringing your hands nervously. She dug around underneath the bathroom counter, most likely looking for a first aid kit of some kind.

She set a bottle of hydrogen peroxide on the counter followed up by a washcloth and a box of Band-Aids.

"I've seen you around before, do you live close?"

Oh small talk, why did it have to be small talk? You suck at small talk...

"Uh, yeah. Just a few streets down from here,"

"How old are you?"

You internally cringed, why did this feel so painfully awkward?

"Sixteen, my birthday's in a few months... what about you?"

"Seventeen, my birthday was last week actually,"

"Oh, happy birthday,"

"Thanks,"

The smile she gave you made you feel like you were on cloud nine. Butterflies, fireworks, every other stupid little analogy they talk about in those cheesy romance novels. You'd fall off your skateboard every day if it meant you could see that smile just one more time.

"Stop moving," You hadn't even realized your knee had been bouncing up and down, picking at your fingernails. Bad habits you'd picked up over the years, and ones you generally caught yourself doing when you were nervous.

She grabbed the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and the washcloth, placing herself in between your knees as she stood in front of you. "Alright, hold still. This'll probably sting."

"One, two..."

You waited for her to get to three, but it never came. Instead, you felt her pour the liquid into the cut, burning as it fizzled.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow-" You tried to sit still, but you weren't very good at it. You were squirming like a worm on a hook, eyes closed as a mix of hydrogen peroxide and blood dribbled down the side of your face.

You heard Jenna giggle, followed by the feeling of her hand cupping your cheek, "I said hold still." She wiped off the side of your face with the washcloth, dabbing at the cut slightly to make sure it was all dry.

You felt her leave the spot in front of you. You opened your eyes, watching as she tossed the washcloth into the sink, grabbing the box of Band-Aids from the counter.

"Ok, you have a very important decision to make," you tilted your head, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Jenna had to hold in a laugh at how adorable you looked.

"Scooby-Doo or Spiderman?" She held up two Band-Aids, one with little Scooby-Doo heads and doggy prints, the other with Spiderman doing a bunch of different poses.

She was attempting to look dead serious, a blank stare as she waited for you to answer, but you didn't buy the act for one second.

You scoffed playfully, "Scooby-Doo, of course."

She set the Spiderman Band-Aid back in the box with a smile, "Not a fan of Spiderman, huh?"

"Spiderman is cool, Scooby-Doo is just better,"

She stood back in front of you, nudging your knees further apart so could step between them again. Only so she could get closer to your face for the Band-Aid, no other reason. At least, that's what she told herself.

You watched her as she got closer, getting lost between the freckles that dotted her face like stars in the night sky and those big brown eyes, nearly black as night yet full of so much life and joy.

"You're staring," She smirked, enjoying the blush that spread across your cheeks and up to your ears.

"Sorry," You squeaked out, nervously looking at the ground.

"It's alright,"

She grabbed your chin in her hand, angling your head so you were staring at the wall so she could get a better view of the cut on your head. "Stay,"

You didn't move a muscle. How could you when she said it like that? Like you were some lost little puppy following her every whim… Putting it like that made you feel pathetic, after all, you'd only met the girl today. And yet, part of you knew you'd do whatever she said just to keep seeing that adorable smile.

Five minutes and you were already whipped...

You were so caught up in your thoughts you barely even registered her putting the Band-Aid on. You hadn't realized she was done till her hand was on your chin again. Her hand was still cupping your face as you stared up at her, once again falling prey to those enchanting eyes and countless freckles.

"All better," She took a step back, removing herself from between your legs, much to your disappointment.

"Hi, love," you leaned back, hanging upside down in front of Jenna.

She yelped, jumping back a step out of surprise. She hadn't expected you to be there when she rounded the corner, "Jesus, y/n. You scared the shit outta me."

"Sorry," You gave a sheepish smile, feeling bad for scaring her.

It'd been two years since you met Jenna, and one amazing year since the two of you started dating. Your only regret was not kissing her that first day you met. She was standing right there, right between your knees, and you let the chance slip away... But that was a thing of the past, and now you could kiss her as much as you wanted.

"What are you doing up there? It's starting to rain, baby, we got to go,"

You pouted, a bit childishly at that. Jenna had to fight off the urge to smile at you. She didn't want you to fall and hurt yourself, you were already prone to accidents as is.

The two of you decided to have a day for yourselves, just goofing off and having fun. Somewhere along the way you ended up at the park, walking along the trails and enjoying the peace and quiet. Jenna left you near the playground by yourself while she ran off to the restroom, it was only natural that you decided to goof off and have a little fun. After coming back, Jenna noticed the rain coming in, scaring off what was left of the remaining parents and kids.

It was drizzling as she searched for you. Rounding the corner she found you here, dangling upside-down from the pull-up bars by your knees.

"I wanted to try kissing you upside down, like in the movie last night,"

She couldn't hold back the giggles this time, smiling at your adorable pout, "You mean the Spiderman kiss? The upside-down, kissing in the rain thing?"

"Yes please, kisses now," You made grabby hands at her, which came out a bit awkward and uncoordinated from how you were hanging upside down.

She laughed, showing off that radiant smile that you adored. She grabbed the sides of your face, kissing you as requested. It was soft, simple, and sweet. No different from the dozens of other times she'd kissed you before. But goddamn, that feeling you get every time never seems to go away. Her kisses were addictive, they set your nerves on fire and left you craving more. You felt like you could melt under her touch.

Apparently, you relaxed under her touch a little too much. Your grip on the bar loosened and the bar slipped out from beneath you. Before you knew it Jenna was scrambling back as you tumbled head-first into the uneven ground below.

You knew something was wrong the second you landed, a small crack coming from somewhere.

"Ow..."

Jenna watched you slip from the bar, managing to brace your fall as you stuck out your arms. She heard a yelp, followed by a strained 'ow'. But you didn't get up right away. She watched you curl in on yourself instead, writhing about on the ground in pain.

Shit.

She was down on her knees beside you in the dirt, wanting to help but afraid to touch you and make everything worse, "Hey, what happened? Where's it hurt?"

"My wrist," You managed to get out between gritted teeth, tears already beginning to well up in your eyes from the pain, "I fell on my wrist."

"Ok, let me see,"

You stopped wriggling about long enough for her to look at your arm. It didn't look like it was broken, granted her idea of ‘broken’ entailed bones sticking out of the skin or limbs pointed in funny directions.

Jenna went to gently grab your arm, so she could check the other side, but you quickly pulled back with a little yelp and a rush of tears.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," She was starting to panic now, she'd barely even touched you.

The rain was starting to come down harder now, too much longer and the two of you would be soaked to the bone. Far off in the distance, Jenna could just barely make out the rumbling of thunder.

All she had to do was get you to the car. But that was easier said than done. You were still on the ground, wet from the rain, and tensed up in pain.

"Hey, baby, look at me,"

You stopped wriggling around for just a moment, long enough to focus on Jenna. She placed her hands on either side of your face and you closed your eyes, melting into her touch. She placed a kiss on your forehead, then on your nose, and finally on your lips.

"Let's get you home, alright?"

She lied. Well, not technically, but yes.

When Jenna said she was going to take you home, you assumed she meant right away. But that was a lie. Instead, she forced you into going to the ER first to get your wrist checked out.

After hours of waiting, having to endure the stale smell of disinfectant, and medical professionals poking and prodding at your arm, you were finally being sent home.

You flopped down on the sofa the second you got through the door. You were exhausted. You closed your eyes and curled up into the corner of the couch, being careful not to agitate your arm, wishing you could fall asleep right then and there.

You were just about to doze off when you heard footsteps approaching. You didn't bother to look, only one other person was home.

"Scoot over, love,"

You did as you were told, making room for your girlfriend next to you. The second she was comfortable you laid yourself across her lap, finding it a bit awkward to get comfortable with the splint for your wrist.

Your eyes were shut once again as you felt something soft being nudged into your arms. You didn't have to look to know what it was. It was the stuffed animal Jenna bought you for your birthday, the absolute softest plush dinosaur you'd ever seen. You definitely haven't slept with it every night since then.

She draped a blanket over the two of you and by the time she started running her fingers through your hair, you were already asleep. The only sound in the room coming from your soft snores.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x gn!reader #void-wolfie

921 notes · View notes

dmitriene · 9 months

Text

— chris redfield headcanons◞♡

summary: headcanons of chris redfield when he finally returns from a long mission to you, his beloved girl. content: bf! chris redfield x fem! reader tags: fluff, comfort, nsfw, smut, unprotected p in v, receiving-giving oral, fingering, marking, domestic chris. please enjoy your reading) 🎐 (18+ warning)

• chris redfield who is absent quite often due to his work and most of the time you are alone in your joint apartment.

• chris redfield who sincerely worries about this situation and all his thoughts are filled with only reflections on how you feel when you are alone.

• chris redfield who will urge you to text him and send him pictures about what you are doing and how your day is going, and even if he does not have time to review, he still cares.

• chris redfield who calls you immediately, once he knows that his work is over and he can safely return home, even if there are wounds on him that need to be treated — the most important thing is to hear your voice after a long time and look at every message.

• chris redfield that is incredibly nervous all the way home, which seems rather strange for such a reserved and firm man like him, but the mere thought that he will soon see you makes him constantly fidget nervously on the spot.

• chris redfield that comes home either in the early morning or late at night, and in both moments he literally melts from how charming you look in your sleepy state and his t shirt while standingon the doorstep.

• chris redfield who watching your eyes go out of sleep instantly when you notice how shabby and tired he looks and that puts the biggest smile on his face.

• chris redfield that gives you complete control over him, from the moment you take off his outerwear to the moment you slowly undress him in the bathroom while the tub is running hot.

• chris redfield whose muscles completely relax when he plunges into hot water and sits in the bathroom, half liddedly watching you twirl around in search of the right funds so you could treat your boyfriend properly.

• chris redfield who lets out soft growls while you massage his scalp and shoulders while you take your time to wash him, your touch is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time away while he murmuring softly, making you giggle — “You are so good to me, hun”

• chris redfield whose eyes get warmer when he sees you sitting on the edge of the bed and gently patting your knees with a warm smile on your face, while a first aid kit lies not far from you, ready to patch up his minor wounds.

• chris redfield who lays his head on your lap and enjoys the way you caress small scratches on his face while you tending to them, because you know that he refused medical help due to the fact that he wanted to get home to you faster.

• chris redfield who tries to get as few injuries as possible so that you don't have to mess with them for too long, or worse, see tears in your charming eyes because you are worried about his well being too much.

• chris redfield that refusing to let you out of his tight hugs when you put everything back in place and return to your bed, trapped between his strong muscular arms and warm body.

• chris redfield that covering your face with butterfly kisses that expressing all his gratitude and love as he holds you as close and tight as possible, making your face sink into his chest until you both fall asleep.

• chris redfield that covering every inch of your skin in hickeys and bites, the feel of his lips and tongue after a long time makes you flinch and whine under him.

• chris redfield whose fluttering brush of lips and teeth move from your neck to your thighs, teasing the thin skin that are dangerously close to your clothed clit, which has already left a wet spot on your panties in anticipation.

• chris redfield who with a smile on his lips pulls off the wet panties from you to replace them with his lips, spreading your labia with his tongue and starting slow caresses.

• chris redfield who speeds up as soon as he hears you whine and mewl, wanting more and he is happy to do everything for you, gradually penetrating deeper with his tongue and rubbing a small pea with his fingers while tracing small and soothing patterns.

• chris redfield from whose lips pouring the most tender praises and sweet words addressed in your direction, flying from his lips either in the form of a growl, or barely audible due to the inability to form words due to the spiraling breath.

• chris redfield kissing your clit after you orgasm, covering his lips and chin with his arousal while he gently traces patterns on your thighs, soothing.

• chris redfield barely holding back his moans when you decide to pay him back, teasingly running your finger over his bare and hard cock as he oozes precum.

• chris redfield shuddering and jerking his hips forward as he feels you rubbing his precum all over his urethra and gradually rubbing it along his impressive length.

• chris redfield that biting his lip and asking you not to stop when you actively begin to move your hand in smooth movements, stroking his urethra in parallel and deliberately catching it with your thumb, making him whisper — “Don't - d-don't stop, sweetheart”

• chris redfield that throwing his head back as you replace your hand with your puffy lips, smearing viscous saliva over smooth skin and clinging to the outline of the veins before thrusting deeper on his cock with your throat.

• chris redfield who is stroking your head as you suck your cheeks in, feeling tears well up in your eyes from the force of the pressure as his cock throbs in the hot inside of your mouth while he whispering sweet little praises for you.

• chris redfield that grunting once he feeling himself getting close to orgasm and gently squeezing your shoulder, trying to focus on your face as you bobbing your head up and down faster, causing him to mutter — “Honey, y-you don't need to - fuckgh!”

• chris redfield that watching you swallow all the sticky hot mess of his cum down your throat while he looking at you with dilated pupils and eyes full of love, as he leans in and kisses you softly on the lips.

• chris redfield that laying you down on the silk sheets of the bed like the most fragile figurine, enjoying your charming look and how fragile you seem in comparison to his broad body.

• chris redfield that gently holding your hips as he carefully slams your sopping cunt millimeter by millimeter onto his cock, enjoying every sweet moan and whine from your swollen pink lips.

• chris redfield who is showing maximum comfort and care after your sex, carefully carrying you to the bathroom and caring for you even more actively than you for him, whispering warmly in your ear — “Let me take care of you, hm? You do so good for me every time..”

please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me.

reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

#chris redfeild x reader #chris redfield #chris redfield x you #chris redfield smut #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield fluff #chris redfield headcanons #resident evil #[ ✒️july writing ]

637 notes · View notes

upthebluess · 4 months

Text

Up to Standards (Arsenal Women Academy Story) Part 3

In which you get your Arsenal Academy debut and get a visit from a guest.

You were training with Arsenal 3 times a week, played a match every Saturday and went to a recovery session straight after. It was intense.

Luckily, the girls were as nice as Peter had reassured, and you’d fit in better than you originally expected.

Your mum had been working extremely hard to get you an agent, and was currently working on terms to get you signed with volante sports.

Everything seemed perfect, until Saturday came round.

Nerves. An overwhelming amount.

It was your first game day with the gunners, and you felt drastically more apprehensive on the day than you had throughout the week.

“No Mum, I’m serious. I can’t play” you uttered to her in the car, clad out in your full arsenal kit.

“Of course you can” she responded without taking her eyes off the road.

“No, I can’t.” You hadn’t experienced anxiety like this in years.

You always knew at Fulham that you were one of the best players, but at arsenal, you were average. If you made a mistake here, you feared that your coaches would regret all the money they spent on your transfer.

“Do you have two feet?” Your mother asked.

“Yes”

“Then you can play” she explained, and you let out a defeated sigh. It was clear she wasn’t gonna turn the car around.

Eventually, you pulled into London Colony and parked the car. “Look, Y/N. Arsenal brought you here because they saw how well you could play, all you need to do now is show them again. Even if you don’t today, your contract gives you six months before it’s reviewed again. That’s a lot of games to show what you’re made of.”

You finally managed a small but genuine smile and you felt a few of the butterflies disappear.

“Thanks, Mum.”

“Now off you go, I’ll come out to watch later when you kick off because there’s no way I’m standing outside in the cold for an extra 30 minutes.”

You picked up your backpack from the floor and hopped out of the car, having to dodge the puddles as you were still in your sliders (muddy boots were completely banned from the car at this point).

You pulled your phone out your bag and checked the pitch info which read:

PITCH 2, KO 14:00, MEET AT 1:30

Pitch 2, where the hell was that?

“Y/N, you’re going the wrong way!”

Your head was turned to see one of your teammates calling your name. You ran to catch up with her, stepping in multiple puddles as you did so.

“You really should watch where you walk” Eliza stated, letting out a chuckle at your soaked socks and you inability to remember directions.

“Yeah, I know.”

The two of you hadn’t really spoke before. Eliza was a centre back, you a midfielder. Although maybe it was better to interact with people of different positions, they were less of a threat to your place on the team.

“You nervous? Big first game.” Eliza asked. Your first game with the team was against Manchester City. They were a big club with high standards but were mostly known for their work off the ball. They would be constantly pressing to try and win the possession back.

“I’m terrified to be honest, once it starts I think I’ll be ok though” you admitted to her, as you passed a gate labelled pitch 2.

You were right on time, but most of the girls had already arrived. Coach Louise sent you straight into an extensive warm up, which had the whole team more out of breath than an actual game would.

At 13:55, you were huddled for a team talk. The captain, Freya, spoke about how we needed to manage their press effectively and remain composed on the ball. If we made the pitch bigger, the ball would do the work.

“1,2,3 Arsenal!” You all chanted and dispersed from the circle.

You were playing centre-mid and starting the game. But as you made your way into position, the nerves returned. Frantically, you scanned the parents section searching for your mum.

There she was, with her bobble hat and scarf. She gave you a cheesy smile and a thumbs up, phone in her other hand, presumably to send pictures to the family group-chat.

The game started off rocky. City had majority of possession and were showing no signs of losing that, as they continually worked the ball out from the back.

Eventually, they made a loose pass into the centre circle and you picked it up immediately. With a quick scan, you immediately knew you needed to drive forwards. Since they’d been playing from their keeper, their centre backs were split and a huge gap was left down the middle.

Within seconds, you were aware the defenders would be on you. Multiple teammates were shouting for the ball, but you took a shot. The first shot of the game.

Your boot dug under the ball, lifting it up in attempt to chip the keeper, who remained off her line. You watched it fly into the air but it it seemed too high at first to go in. A few of your fellow arsenal teammates turned around to go back into position, assuming a goal kick would be given. But it was dipping, and dipping quickly. Right as it reached the goal, it fell to the grass and rolled into the net.

1-0.

You ran in the direction of your mum and punched the air in celebration. Sure enough, she was recording. That’d definitely be on Facebook later.

All your teammates jumped on your back and your coaches high fived each other. Just like that, the nerves were gone.

The rest of the game flew by. The team scored a second from a corner before city put one tap in past your keeper. Then, for an awful tackle in the box, you were awarded a penalty in the dying minutes. It wasn’t going to be a winning pen if it was scored, but it would prevent another city goal (if they got one) from equalising the game.

You didn’t yet know who was a penalty taker for this team. It was usually you when you played for Fulham, but you watched Eliza pick up the ball and place it on the spot. She took it immediately after the whistle was blown and blasted it bottom left.

3-1. Full time.

What a pen, you muttered under your breath.

You shook hands with everyone, listened to the team talk once again and accepted the congratulations from your coaches.

“Right everyone, in a moment you’ll be free to go but there was someone else watching you play who wanted to say a few words.”

Vivianne Miedema emerged from the crowd of parents looming at the gate. She had her hands in her pockets but removed them to take down her hood.

“I’m not very good with speeches or anything but I felt I couldn’t not say something after that performance. You all dominated the game in every aspect and your determination to higher the score line really stood out to me. You should all be really proud of yourselves.” Viv spoke.

She hesitantly looked at your coach. Bless her, she’s as awkward as she seems, you thought.

“Do you have a player of the match for us?” Louise questioned.

“Uh, number 8. That goal was great and the composure it must’ve taken was even better.”

“Ah, a player of the match and a goal for our debutant. Thank you for coming, Viv. Right everyone off you go. Well done today.” Louise dismissed you all.

Everyone cleared off the field pretty quick, apart from you. Due to your Mums ‘no boot in the car’ rule, you were sat on the wet grass taking your boots off and replacing them with sliders.

Louise had picked up the corner flags and was walking towards you with Viv, they were good friends as Louise also worked as a physiotherapist when needed.

“Louise tells me your feeling a bit of pressure. You sure didn’t show it.” Viv said casually once they reached you again.

“Yeah, I just moved here from Fulham, they expect a lot from me here.” you slung your backpack onto your shoulder and stood. “Any advice?”

“Use the pressure to drive you further, all nerves do are make you work harder and perform with more precision. Carry on like you did today and you’ll have no problems.” She gave you a sincere smile and stuffed her hands back into her pockets.

“Thanks” you looked over to your mum and then back to Viv and Louise.

“Well off you go then, don’t keep her waiting.” Louise chuckled at the silence that somehow had formed and sent you on your way.

Back at home, you were writing away silently in your room trying to figure out how photosynthesis worked for a biology test, when your Mum barged into your room.

“You’re signed! Volante signed you. We are meeting with them on Tuesday. I get to bring out the fancy plates!” She exclaimed, the biggest grin on her face.

“They’re coming here?”

“Yes! Would you rather sign with Nike or Adidas? What will you spend your first pay check on? Where will you-” your mum sat down on your bed as she got carried away with excitement

“Calm down, it’s just an agency. Most girls probably already have one.” you tried to dull down her joy, but secretly you were as ecstatic as her.

“Yes but they didn’t score a banger on their arsenal debut.”

That was true.

As you looked over the framed photographs that plastered your walls later that night, you started to wonder which Fulham ones would soon be replaced with Arsenal ones. You actually found yourself wanting to go to training, and wanting to see your teammates.

Could arsenal really take you all the way to the WSL?

Everybody else but you seems to think so, even Vivianne Miedema.

A/N

Sorry this was a little rushed but at leat it’s something. More parts soon😊. Hope everyone had a Happy New year!!

L🫶

#arsenal wfc #woso x reader #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #arsenal wfc x reader #vivianne miedema

241 notes · View notes

luveline · 1 year

Note

we've seen bodyguard!james being soft and sweet on r, but can we possibly get more of r being soft and sweet on him? <<<<3 like she cleans and patches him up after some sort of scuffle or close call? tysm! but no pressure if you don't want to! (p.s. would that be where they'd have their first official kiss, you think? lol)

thank you so much for your request! bodyguard james forever | fem!reader ♥︎ 1.6k

James' hands shake after events. Adrenaline, no matter how many times he's defended you, will run its course.

"Are you okay?" you ask him worriedly.

He presses a hand, trembling still, to his forehead. A cruel looking cut tugs with the movement, scabbed over and black-crimson.

"Fine," he says, following up with a low groan.

His knuckles are split from an unfortunate sucker punch that had, undoubtedly, protected you from a similar facial injury.

"You gonna go clean up?"

He sits up. "Yeah, sorry. Just waiting for my hands…"

You put your hands on each of his shoulders and push him back gently into your settee. "I wasn't trying to get rid of you. I don't want you to get an infection."

His shoulders relax ever so slightly.

"Hey," you say, "I could clean you up. If you want me to."

"No, you couldn't. It's a mess, I don't think your pristine bathroom would survive it."

His eyes crease with his smile. It quickly fades, an injury strained. You offer your hand to him, waiting in a tentative silence until he takes it. His fingers move to your wrist and you take his, pulling him up off of your settee with a happy sigh.

"I'm a great nurse," you promise. "You'll be brand new by tonight."

He lets you take him into the bathroom, a generosity to pretend you're strong enough to force him, your link tugging between you with every step. He sits on the lowered toilet seat lid and his hand forgets to let you go as you walk away.

"I need the first aid kit," you say.

He clears his throat, dropping your wrist. You think about it too much, the pleasure of his naturally wanting to hold onto you a blooming light you suspect radiates from your appled cheeks. You tamp down your smile and get back to business, retrieving your immaculate first aid kit from the cupboard under the sink and popping it open next to the sink. It's a huge kit, James instated, with silver sealed bandages, sterile gauze and wraps, tiny scissors and huge fabric shears, everything you could ever need to perform minor surgery.

"Face or hands first?" you ask unsurely.

"Face is easier. It just needs disinfectant, and a butterfly stitch."

He sees your eyes widen and laughs, though his laugh makes him wince. "Butterfly bandage, angel. It's not a real stitch. You've seen them, they're those grey plastic strips."

You try to laugh your embarrassment away as you wash your hands. "Right, I know."

First, you wipe the blood away from his face with a warm towel. He's gracious, closing his eyes as you lean in toward him. You're conscious that he can smell you, and you wonder if you smell good. You probably smell like sweat from all the panic, and that makes you cringe.

"Sorry if I smell bad," you mumble.

He opens one eye to squint at you. "You smell bad? Why would you smell bad?" His eyes close again as you wash over his mean cut. "You smell really nice. Like flowers."

"It's the lilac and mandora perfume, in the fancy bottle."

He hums. "Remind me again what mandora is?"

"Citrus," you murmur, more focused on his skin than his question.

His blood stains your face cloth, muslin slowly changing from a light cream to rusted orange. You set it next to the kit and rip open an alcohol wipe next.

"I'm sorry," you say preemptively. "I know it'll sting. I'll be quick."

He shakes his head. "Don't be. You couldn't hurt me if you tried."

Why would he say that? You want to ask him. Jamie, why would you say that? It's nearly cruel, because what are you supposed to think? You bite your tongue and hold your breath as you clean the length of his wound, cringing at the feeling of the split in his skin. His tone had been so soft, a juxtaposition when compared to the ruggedness of his appearance.

"Don't get blood on your sleeves," he says.

"Does it matter? I'll never wear this dress again. God forbid I wear the same thing twice."

"I wish they'd let you."

"I'm sure you do," you mutter sarcastically.

"I do. I'd want you to wear the one you had at your fathers Christmas Ball, the silver-gold one, with the tiny sleeves, that one was–" He hisses at your last tugging wipe. "It was beautiful. You looked beautiful."

You stroke his forehead lightly, a stolen touch you shouldn't take. Your fingertips kiss his eyebrow, and then you force yourself away from him.

You can't bring yourself to say thank you. Words feel impossible.

His cut bleeds again, but it's a sluggish droplet that rivers down the slope of his temple a millimetre a second. He stays perfectly still as you pinch the skin ever so gently closed with one butterfly stitch.

You wipe away the blood with another alcohol wipe.

His hand is a more intricate affair. It's not shaking anymore, but it's clearly amazingly sore. You wipe off all the blood with a wipe, and apply a disinfectant cream over the worst of it. You run out of things to do.

You're not eager to let go of his hand.

You let your fingerpads slide over his uninjured skin until you're holding his wrist in two hands. You squeeze. There's a reverence to your touch.

"Thank you for looking after me," you say.

You both look up from your contiguity at the same time, comfortable enough with one another that your eyes lock and there's no awkwardness or tension.

"They pay me," he says, "to do so. Please, don't say thanks."

He's right, they do. They pay James to take care of your physical wellbeing. But all his compliments, all his sweet caring, that's for free. He might've taken a punch for you because he had to, but he'd hugged you in the car on the way home because he wanted to. He'd rubbed your arm, whispered, "Don't worry, sweetheart. It was a fluke, huh?"

A fluke is the word he uses for stalker situations, people that have deluded themselves into thinking they know you, or that they need to talk to you. Now that you're in the public eye it happens more and more, and it sucks, but a fluke that grows aggressive after rejection will always be better than people who want to hurt you from the get go. Kidnappers, 'assassins', if they actually exist.

"Can I give you a hug?" you ask him.

He lifts his chin. He has a pretty chin, a lovely jaw, and you know in your heart what you're going to do before you do it.

"Course you can," he says cheerily. "Bring it in."

Your arms fall over his shoulders, your wrists crossed. You rub your cheek against his mildly and breathe in his smell. The disinfectant stick tickles your nose, but his real smell, his rosemary hair oil, his lotion, has you breathing him in greedily.

"You should change out of this uncomfortable thing," he says, big hands feeling huge as they smooth down the dip of your spine. Calluses over silk.

"I will… It's not fun getting changed when you aren't on shift." You squeeze him tighter, wishing immediately that you could disappear. "That's not how it sounded in my head."

"How did it sound in your head?"

"I don't know. I like asking you what moisturiser to use, and… what nightgown to wear. I like having you there to help me out of my bracelets and necklaces."

"An attendant can be sent up–"

You groan wearily. "No, it's not like that, James." You pull back just enough to see his face. You're pouting, annoyed at yourself for messing it up. "This isn't as easy to say as I'd thought. I like having you with me because it's you. And it's an excuse."

"For what?" he asks.

Your heart hammers in your chest. You can feel it, your heart the hammer, your chest a thin piece of metal. It's thumping. You wouldn't be surprised if James could feel it too.

"Can I do something? Just this once. And if you hate it I'll never do it again. Please."

He looks at you for long, crawling seconds. You worry he's seen straight into your head and he's unhappy with you, but he tips his head in toward yours, your foreheads a mere inch away, and says, "Alright. I trust you. Do what you want to do."

You breathe in. You pull back your hands, leaning against the circle of his arms. Terrified, you lift your hands to his cheeks, force them trembling into the softness of his skin to hold him still.

You lean in, and you kiss him. Shy of his lips, the slope of skin beneath them and to the left. You're too scared to go any higher.

He makes a sound you've never heard from him before. It doesn't make it past his lips, but you're so close you hear it loud and clear. A catching breath. A smothered groan.

You hide your face in his shoulder.

"Princess?" he says quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I want you to do it again. Please."

"Maybe tomorrow," you murmur.

He rubs your back. "Alright. I can't wait 'til tomorrow."

#james potter fic #james potter #marauders era #marauders #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #the marauders #bodyguard!james potter #bodyguard!james #bodyguard!au

1K notes · View notes