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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Note

Can you write overprotective long hair harry imagine?? Like he always hovers the reader when she is doing something or even nothing. Or when she needs to run errands he always go with even though its not required. And when reader fell sick he is full on mommy daddy mode dom!h vibes

A/N: OOPS I GOT EXCITED AND WENT OVERBOARD WITH IT :D

Harry’s awfully sweet. He’s a literal sweetheart with those marble sepia eyes, hazelnut curls and that big golden kind heart of his's.

But, to people he’s intimidating. From the black loiter of tattoos, a silver of piercing to the corner of his plush bottom lip and those long curls of his's that frays his broad strong shoulders turns everyone too giddy to talk to him and he's okay with that – bunch of loosers anyways whom he doesn’t want to waste his time on chit-chatting.

Then Y/N came into his life and his world flipped upside down, in a beautiful way (where he felt like floating into the crashing waves of crystal sea). It felt like she made him see the world through pink heart-shaped glasses and everyone’s just bursting into rainbows, puffaw! Boom! Their heads blasting with colourful confetti and ribbons.

Even though his slight grouchiness towards people lessened he still doesn’t gives two fucks before punching the shit out of someone if they in any way hurts, be rude and try to take physical and emotional advantage of, Y/N.

His bunny.

He’s too protective of her. And why wouldn’t he? She’s his everything. His little miracle and his hype-person, his lovie.

He’s the softest peach for her. The guy who walks and everyone scrambles away to give him a way, is whipped for his girlfriend.

He’s always having his strong arm looped around her waist when they’re out and walking, going to hold her hands instead if she’s too wiggly, keeping her close to his chest while he holds their coffees and sweets.

Whenever they’re doing grocery he’s always wheeling the cart around how much Y/N insists and pouts, he likes it that way. Hearing her blabber and skim her eyes down the ingredients labelled on the products then tossing it anyway with a shrug – makes him want to smooch her wet in kisses.

If they’re partying out with friends. Which they rarely do, (Y/N sometimes makes fun of them saying they’re getting too domestic day by day) he’s always having her put in his lap, his screwed up expression lazing when the alcohol starts to kick in and he’s just a blubbering mess of nonsense, and a very horn dog with his cock bloating up in his tight skinny jeans.

Not that he doesn’t let her have a breather and enjoy herself. He indeed does, they’ve a healthy relationship where they keep trust and faith in eachother.

But, sometimes he gets super jealous when people steal his little girlfriend away from him and once home he’s cuddling and oodling her, kissing her face all over with loud smacks and not letting her be away from him another second even it’s too bring him water or to get rid of his smelly socks.

Other times. When he’s particularly very jealous. The serious ones where Y/N unintentionally spends a tad more time at some of her classmates to wind up their upcoming project, he’s driving himself to pick her up and knocking at the door harshly and then dragging her out of there not letting her carry her stuff and huffing and puffing while throwing her things in the backseat.

Because Jeremy’s a sore rascal who’s shit at hiding his crush for Y/N and he should know better to whom she belongs. His innocent baby is too naive towards the possible hints and evil intentions of people.

“Oi. What got into you today?” She brushes the loose curl that escaped from his bun and let her fingers slide down his tight set angry jaw staring him a bit concerned upon seeing him this furious and ruffled up from nowhere.

“You’re mine,” Is all he'd respond. Smashing his lips against hers in a an ardent kiss and glide his palm down her ass to squeeze it and bring her closer grinning when she squeals into his mouth giving him a chance to slip his tongue in and kiss her deeper and sloppier.

“You’re a silly geese.” She giggles whisper into the mess of pecks and lock her elbows around his neck to give him an eskimo kiss.

“Watch y’mouth.” He glares her intensely loving the way Y/N gulps timidly bobbing her head.

“You’ll get a spanking today,” He always likes to warn her before hand. He wants her comfortable with him in every case and it’s downgrade monstrous to treat the person you love like a mean bitch out of blue -- so whenever she deserves a punishment he already announces her of it, warming her to the idea and giving her time to back away if she doesn’t want it.

“What did I’do now!” She whines and he nibbles onto his knuckle glancing her way in disbelief other hand on steering wheel, “What did y'do?” He asks her sternly. Spreading his palm over her thigh and squeezing it grimly.

“Did y'even care to look at the time, Y/N?” Oh boy. She’s in real trouble. Her name on his tongue never fails to turn her insides gooey and pause her heartbeat horribly. A red light for her to being bratty before she falls into the deep black dig of trouble.

Reaching home. He’s throwing her on the bed and demanding her to lay still on her tummy while he puts a pillow under her and spanks her bum sore with his rings imprinting her skin pink, though he never forgets to take care of her afterwards – putting a cool cream to soothe the burn and letting her sleep on his chest so she wouldn’t come in contact with the sheets as he kneads her asscheeks with gentle hands.

He could never have his hands to himself when she’s cooking and baking for them. Always, poking and prodding around having her head tucked under his chin, her embraced in his arms from back swaying them along to Hozier while she reads the recipe she wrote on one of the tiles.

“Stop!” She giggles, squirming in his arms when he blows raspberries against the dip of her neck and then creates growly noises biting and lapping into her skin, “You’re gonna burn our lunch!” She pressed her hips against his crotch to push him away and that warmed him more, delving his fingers more into her hips with a throaty groan.

“We could have a takeout.” His breath shuddery against her ear as he tries to pry the spatula away from her and kiss her grumpy whines down when the pots actually got burned, “I’ll wash and scratch them.” He’d assure picking her up and wrapping her legs around his hips and slipping his fingers in her hair to tug them and bring her mouth down against his’s to taste her.

“Wants to fuck you so bad, baby. My cock’s been weepy fo’ hours without your touch.” He groans, taking her hand and sneaking it inside his joggers to make her feel how stiff and erect he’s for her.

“I just gave you a blowie in the morning!”

“Blowie isn’t equivalent to fucking!”

“What y'readin,?” He scoots closer to her end of sofa with a smirk and towers over her trying to take a peek of whatever she’s reading with such intensity and then rake his warm palms up her calves to lay them over his thighs while he snuggles her wrapping a chonky blanket around them.

“Shhh baby girl, just want you to be more comfy.” He mumbles into her hair scratching his short nails against her scalp in soothing motions and watch her melt against his touch, eyes fluttering as she lurks dangerously to the verge of sleep.

“You always do that. Whenever the hot part’s about to come, you make me all sleepy.” She mutters laying her head against his clavicles gazing him up with hazy eyes, sighing in feign disappointment when he grins down at her in quite victory and gives her a sloppy kiss.

“What do y'need erotica fo’ baby? When your man’s the living walking momentum of sex.” He pouts, grazing his teeth down her neck and leaving a fresh hickey at her throat.

“That’s infact not, true. You’re such a cutie!” She beams up at him never failing to give him dancing butterflies in his stomach and he doesn’t admits it but he likes getting treated soft and gentle by his girlfriend.

“Such a shame. My own little love doesn’t find me sexy.” He grumps dramatically making her scramble hesitantly and turn to him in their tight embrace, cradling his face in her cold palms, “No. No. I find you sexy. I just don’t like sexualising you.” If Harry didn’t turn into a puddle before he indeed did now as he melted into her touch and kissed the inside of her hands lovingly.

“You’re sucha sap!” He whispers at her in fake offence and plant his lips against hers, patting her bum to make her hug him more tightly.

On cleaning and laundry day’s. He’s always helping her. As they scrub and mop the floors together, might fuck on them bubbly floors too if Harry’s lusty gaze remains on her spilling tits for too long.

“Thinks your floral bra needs a wash too, moppet.” His gradual attempts to lure her with his fingers stroking her thighs seductively always turns into a win when she nods shyly into his neck and let him have an easy access to her panties.

They’re always having a warm, full of essence bath together cleaning and washing the dirt off eachother after that.

Then sharing a cuppa tea while folding their clothes together on the bed and he’s always trying to tackle her into mattress when she laughs at his terribly folded clothes compared to her neatly binded ones.

“Your sucha menace,” He jests with his nose skewered up while he smacks her ass.

“Talk for yourself, Styles.” She retorts, tangling her knee around his waist and pulling him down into him. Puffing out relaxed breaths upon feeling safe and protected under his weight and Harry always smiles into the crook of her neck when she tries to cuddle him as if she wants to be his skin.

He’s the most daddiest when she’s drunk, sick or stressed.

Never letting her go out of his sight when she’s dancing on the floor with her friends. If some man even tries to approach her and breaths in her direction he’s sprinting towards her and pawing at her hips to situate her closer to him whilst blowing those potential guys off with a monotone expression.

“Harry! Do a lil dancey dance with me!” She giggles, making him sway with her and looking up at him with glassy floaty eyes.

“Bunny. ‘s late, time to go home.” He tells her, pinching her chin to plant his lips against hers and she squirms giving him a timid smile, “Okie. But I’ve to pee.”

“Me too!” Her friends chimes from behind her and Harry rolls his eyes playfully, gesturing all of them to follow him.

“C’mon you spies, not lettin’ ya’ll go alone.”

He waits for them outside the washroom while they do their business and he has his arms always splayed open for when his lovie comes back and he’s welcoming her in his embrace warmly with a sweet smile.

Dying with fond injecting in his every vein when she slurs and blabbers, “Home.”

Walking her up the stairs of their flat’s building is the most hefty struggle while she’s a sleepy, clumsy and giggly muck of doe gleaming eyes and swollen pretty lips drooling over Harry testing his patience while he makes her take one step at a time.

“Darling, bunny, just some mo' steps lovin’.” He coos at her, putting a firm hand under her bum and heaving her up into him so she doesn’t falls.

“Mhmmm you’re so pretty, daddy.” Harry’s head snaps in surprise as he stares down at her in adoring amusement and push her head under his chin while she slings her arms around his waist lazily.

Sometimes, she gets him so flustered he doesn’t know how to respond.

She whines and cries in dishevelment when Harry makes her sit on the cold marble counter and wipes her makeup off.

“I just wan’ to sleep!” She toes at his torso trying to push him away but he grabs it and tuts, glowering at her strictly, “You’re g'na complain in the mornin’. Sleepin’ with makeup makes ye' breakout remember?” When she still huffs and slumps giving him a hard time to clean her he’s pinching her chin and giving her a gentle jerk.

“Bunny. Stop with ye' battiness.” He grunts not letting his facade slip when she mewls stroking her cheek up and down his lightly stubble covered cheek softly.

“Else what? Y'never punish a sleepy bunny.” She smirks at him foppishly and lazily knowing damn well that one of thing Harry doesn’t do’s tease or punish her when she’s tuckered out and on the edge of sleeping on him.

“You don’t test me bratty woman.” She squeals when he takes hold of her panties to pull them down her legs, slapping her mound once discarding it in the hamper and he sighs when she’s already snoring lightly, slobbering his throat with her mouth parted comically.

After pattering her face with loving kisses he’s tucking her under the layers of blankets and letting her use him as her stuffie.

“Aw poor baby.” He mumbles, kissing her forehead when he finds her burning up against him and he’s quickly rummaging for thermometer from the night stand and the tissues he had stashed for emergencies.

“I don’t feel good,” His heart breaks when Y/N croaks out weakly and tries to crawl up his chest to stuff her face in his musky neck but her frail limbs gives out making her cry out.

“It’s okay bunny, ‘s okay. How but I make you some soup. Then y'take your medicines like a good girl of mine, then if your condition gets worse we’ll go to doctor, yeah baby?” He talks to her gently and sweetly, stroking her hair and peppering kisses to her temples.

“Just last bite, moppet.” Harry hovers the spoon infront of her and sighs when she shakes her head pushing his wrist away, “I’ll puke.” She sniffs blowing her nose harshly in the tissue .

“The bin’s right here, bunny.” He smoothens his hand down her spine putting the tray aside carefully to snuggle and comfort her as she cries softly against his chest.

“’M so sorry baby, you’ll be alright in the morning.” He couldn’t see her in such condition. It pulls and tugs at his heart so painfully he feels himself hurting.

“Oi. Why you crying, hmm?” He cups her cheek and makes her look at him as she skims her eyes away from him jn embarrassment.

“I —- You’re so caring and loving, treats me so good and it makes me c.. cr–-,” She hiccups finding it hard to breath and Harry rubs her back, whispering affinities in her ear making her finally sob, “Cry....” He chuckles softly pelting kisses upon kisses on her puffy eyelids, soaky dried up cheeks, her frowned up forehead, her wobbly chin and her nipping love bites down her chest then blowing raspberries at his own slick covering her skin making her giggle through her hiccups.

“I love you.” She whispers droopily, head lulling to his chest when the effect of medicine finally starts to kick in.

“I love you too, I want my healthy and happy bunny back.” He mumbles, inhaling a huge puff of her scent and squishes her lovingly.

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tteokdoroki · 3 years

Text

assistance please! | e.kirishima.

♡ pairing: eijirou kirishima x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 6.6K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: workplace!au, internship!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: eijirou kirishima loved being an intern, he had great co-workers, had a shot at his dream job, his boss had taken quite liking to him and of course, being the favourite intern had many, many perks.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, ( kirishima is in his twenties ), power dynamics, sub top!kirishima + power bottom!reader, heavy!praise kink, heavy!miss + mommy kink, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, kids ), oral ( female receiving ), squirting, tummy bulges, cumplay, creampie.

♡ author’s note(s): hihi everyone!! today i present to you my contribution to the bnharem on the job collab! i had a lot of fun playing with different dyanimics in this fic, i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!! make sure you chek out the other works from the other amazing creators!! <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“oi! ‘shima! you’re needed in the boss’ office right away, she’s got important business for ya!, wants t’have a word. now.”

eijirou ducks his head politely in a sign of gratitude, thanking his co-worker and superior, keigo— for the heads up. keigo, or better known as hawks around the office ( for his fast speeds in completing work and luring lonely interns into his bed ), was a nice guy— second to the lady in charge and way too chatty. he was a bit of an air head, got the job done when it needed to be but that’s what kirishima was for, the replacement while keigo took his vacation time in the middle of the year like an idiot.

he wasn’t too sure why you kept the blonde around, he supposed it was because he was pretty but eijirou wouldn’t dare question you— he needed this internship if he was going to make it big in the sports news reporting scene. he’d been majoring in sports and healthcare at college, two years away from graduating when the opportunity to work for yn ln, one of the biggest sports journalists in japan had landed right in his lap. of course he was going to take it, of course he was going to do everything he could not to fuck it up.

in the cubicles beside him, the other interns try to muffle their giggles and titters of curious laughter as the red head gathers himself for the meeting.

“oooo, i wonder what you did this time,” kaminari teases from the right, leaning over his side of the cubicle to fiddle with the odd bits on kirishima’s desk. denki kaminari was another person kirishima wondered how the hell he got into the programme, but then again he was pretty to look at and brought a lighter air to boring office days.

“nothing! i’m innocent!” eijirou defends, hands releasing his files to fly up in defence.

the other interns, going by the names of mina ashido, kyouka jirou and hanta sero snicker amongst themselves at the interaction.

“don’t believe it, s’obviously more than nothin’ if you’re always getting called down’ta the boss lady’s office.” bakugou, another intern, grunts out with his nose deep buried in files for upcoming reports. he was a little too rough for the journalism lifestyle but got the job done. his attitude wasn’t for everyone. “they’re probably fuckin’.”

mina giggles and kirishima steps out into the paths between desks. “don’t be such a sourpuss ‘suki, just ‘cause you’re not her favourite.”

a lose ‘shut up’ is huffed, before katsuki turns to face his taller, buffer companion. “just don’t be late, bunch of us are goin’ for lunch later.” he adds and turns back to his paperwork.

“affirmative, catch ya later!”

the group waves the red head off as he heads to the elevator directing him to the main floor— this is where all the higher ups worked. the journey wasn’t unfamiliar to the intern, he wasn’t like the others and had the steps to your office memorised by heart. sometimes it was like walking home, to his comfort and sanctuary away from the stressors of work and the outside world— he knew that was bad, but you were so kind, such a sweet and understanding boss he couldn’t help but develop some level of comfort towards you.

to most, it seemed like eijirou kirishima was just unbelievably close to his boss, that you’d taken him under your wing.

he however, knew what you had, meant more.

a fluttering warmth spreads across the intern’s chest as he approaches the door to your main office and he knocks. behind it lay mountains of secrets upon secrets, things that kirishima knows about you that no one else does. the walls have hidden words, written across them in fonts of passion and admiration and it’s all that he can think about. you’re all that he can think about, and it’s still wrong. there’s a shuffling deep in the room and some flitters of paper here and there before your soft, velveteen voice breaks through the barrier between you. the one thing keeping you apart.

“come in,” you call smoothly and kirishima follows your orders swiftly, if not eagerly, entering the four walls of your office. ruby eyes dart across the room to locate your position and his heart skips a beat when he finds you, body leaning over your dark oak desk, papers scattered across it while you frantically sift through numbers and stocks and nonsense way above the level of a journalism intern. but even amongst the chaos, you’re beautiful— eyes sparkling with productivity, lined in little flecks across the colour of your orbs. the way you dress never fails to steal away eijirou’s breath— a tight fitting leather skirt that hugs your mature curves and a white blouse with the bottoms popped open— just enough for him to get a peek at your cleavage.

the poor intern has to hold himself back from blurring the lines of work and pleasure to shove himself deep into your chest, suck and lick at your plush breasts until he was high off the taste of your skin. but he wouldn’t do that, yet. not without your permission. “oh eiji baby, there you are!” you coo to the red head, bright smile stretching across blood diamond painted lips. you cross the room in three short strides, tall black heels clacking against the smooth white marble until you’re standing in front of and looking up at kirishima. “was starting to think keigo had ditzed like a pretty boy and had forgotten to send you my way, darling.”

eijirou’s cheeks flame at the smoothness in your syrupy voice, like sweet honey to his hears, the pet name striking a familiar heat deep within him. you always had a way with your words— enticing, almost like a siren calling out to him despite the taboo aura that surrounded what you had. whatever it was— he just knew it was more than your typical boss-intern relationship.

“even if he had, ‘m more than happy to be of service to you ma’am,” he responds almost a little too quickly, large hand rubbing the back of his neck and tugging at his baby hairs to ground himself.

you cock your head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “always such a helpful, good boy eijirou,” you hum, lips pulling into a devilish red smile and the praise causing a new spark of lustful electricity to crackle through the air. “i could use a little assistance, please, i have this awful meeting with the board today, spent all night preparing and couldn’t go home, i could use some stress relief,”

kirishima’s gaze becomes hooded as he looks down at you, a familiar and bright desire burning in the pits of his stomach. “oh yeah? sucks that the paperwork kept you up all night ma’am…” he trails off, choosing to let his fingers dance up and down your sides— snaking an arm around your waist to pull you into him. you couldn’t or you wouldn’t go home. he’s not sure if he cares about the answer right now— not when you tremble in his grip, itching for something, anything from him. “how long do you reckon we have ms. ln?”

“ten to fifteen minutes sweetheart, give or take,”

you grin widens, taking an impossibly closer step to your intern— pressing the swell of your breasts against his hard chest. he can feel your nipples pebbling through your blouse, almost visible behind the white fabric and god the way you look up at him— he can no longer wait, he needs you. right here and right now.

“will you be needing my assistance throughout, ma’am?” kirishima asks, voice dropping a few octaves until it falls into a low growl.

“i expect it. you are my intern after all.”

the words laced with deep huskiness, the proximity of your bodies and the rising heat in the room is what leads you both to tumble into the next series of events. before he can’t register it, your mouths are slotted together in a fast paced and sloppy kiss, kirishima’s body manoeuvres you around the office, marking out a familiar pathway to your desk—his tongue remains sliding over yours in rapid movements as he commits your taste to memory, refreshing those from the last time he had you like this. yet every time you kiss and his tongue glides over yours, you taste sweeter than before; like peaches and morning coffee— you feel softer in his grip, every dip and curve to your body like it was built for him.

eijirou can't stop thinking of that last time, tucked away in your office after dark when your dainty hands pawed desperately at his hips to bring him closer or scratched at his back from sheer pleasure— kirishima wants to see you like that against, using his own hands to tear through your shirt and send buttons flying across the room. something in him just wants to do good for you, have you ache for him and earn himself some of your sweet praise. even as you step and stumble towards your work desk, the red-head lets his lips break away from yours, connected by a string of your own saliva before he drops to your neck, lapping tracks over your skin with the temptation to bite down and paint it shades of deep purple and blue.

but there are rules that you both have in place; ways to keep what you have a secret and hidden away from the public eye so that you don’t lose all that you’ve worked for and so kirishima can keep being your precious little intern.

“jump for me, please ma’am,” he whispers heavily into the junction between your neck and your shoulders, breath laboured and warm against your skin that begins to shine with light perspiration. mindlessly, you follow his orders, jumping up while your fingers curl into the mass of red on kirishima’s head and ankles lock around his waist—his hands meet the backs of your doughy thighs, squeezing the flesh between calloused digits while you toe off your heels.

“eiji, you’re so good,” you manage between feather light breaths as they clatter to the floor as the pair of you somehow make your way to the desk chair, pushing and tearing the clothes from one another’s bodies— including your crisp shirt. now seated and left in nothing but your bra, you tug harshly at your intern’s locks and bring his mouth down to yours, allowing them to move together in a dirty, messy kiss. there’s barely any time for you both to mess around, for him to tease you until your limit and you’re crying out for any type of touch from him, so eijirou quickly

flips down your bra, exposing your chest to cool, air conditioned air—not even bothering to unclip the material as his fingers descend on your nipple, pulling and twisting them until your back arches from the stimulation. “hurry, please eijirou,”

obedient as ever, your favourite boy drops to his knees in front of the chair you stay slumped in and with his height, he still manages to tower over you, practically at eye level with hunger framing the ruby of his own. large hands knead at your plush thighs, hiking your skirt up and up to give you room to spread your thighs, cunt growing sticky from anticipation— all from a few measly touches in familiar places. but this is kirishima, and he knows how your body works from countless hours spent after the office closes up— using one another to blow off extra steam. he knows just what makes you tick and moan his name.

logically, eijirou knows that your meeting could start at any minute and even though you’re both in a stickler for time, he still wants to get a taste at your skin before devouring your most intimate parts. he’ll make time to explore every part of you, to assist you in your stress relief. “‘m sorry miss, yn,” he whines needily, watching your chest rise and fall with want, feeling your body heat up and twitch from the ghost of his fingertips across your blemished skin. “gotta have a taste of you before the real deal, hope’ya don’t mind…”

latching onto the left mound of flesh at your exposed chest, kirishima sinks the point of his teeth into the area around your nipple— just enough to graze your skin and pull a sweet mewl from your mouth. you’re both lucky for the soundproof walls, your head thrown back in a lewd moan he lets his pink tongue roll over your bud in vicious circles. heavy, fat globs of saliva pool over the pink muscle, pouring down kirishima’s chin and painting your skin with a slick shine. “h-how...how could i mind angel, not when you treat me s’good,” you heave, vision fading in and out due to the overwhelming amount of pleasure flashing through your body in waves of hotness. “always doin’ so well for me eiji, aren’t you such a good boy?”

“yes ma’am,” the intern confirms with a erogenous slur, pacified and content on his knees for you— sucking, licking and biting at your chest to his heart’s content. “‘m your good boy,” he corrects you, however. eijirou feels most happy when grazing his tongue over the swell of your breasts, watching your face carefully for any twitches of delirium, it lets him know how hot aroused he makes you feel— that knowledge shoots straight to his cock, rock hard in his slacks while the redhead watches his boss writhe in her seat all for his eyes only.

such a dazzling view, and it’s all for fucking him.

your perfectly manicured nails run through red hair, scratching deliciously at his scalp until you’re forcing his head back and pulling kirishima off of your breast with a pop. “as much as i love seeing a pretty boy suck on my tits like a baby, we’re pressed for time angel, gonna need you to speed it up a little,” despite the softness to your face and the sudden evenness to the tone of your voice, the words that you speak to eijirou are vulgar, nasty, and turn him on to his wits end. “want you to eat me out eiji, can you do that for me?”

shaking his head, yes, beautiful claret eyes shining with acquiescence, kirishima wipes the spit from his chin with the back of his hand— like the tainted, dirty intern he is. you sigh down at him salaciously, ready to tear his innocence apart all over again. eijirou was always so willing to please, both in his work and behind closed doors— you would be a fool to not take advantage of that. with brute force, your intern forces your legs apart, eyes rolling back in his skull from the scent of your sex, dripping with your juices right through your underwear and stockings. overexcited, he rips through the flimsy material at your cunt, exposing your panties for him to see.

“you’re so...so wet ms.ln,” kirishima comments observantly, not even bothering to pull your stockings the rest of the way down your legs, instead opting to pull on the whole until it’s wide enough for his mouth to fit. “smell s’good, bet you taste even better,” there’s a patch on the crotch of your panties, darker than the rest of the material from where you leak and without a second thought, the red head instantly surges forward to lick a stripe over it, letting out a choked gripe as the taste of your cream from over the fabric invades his tongue.

you let out a shrill cry, hips jumping up at the first brush of his tongue against your untouched, clothed pussy. you wriggle even as kirishima holds you down, needing the heat of his mouth against you before your meeting starts. but he’s so good, so well trained, reaching up to your hips to yank your panties down in one fluid motion. leaning forward, kirishima savagely buries his face between your doughy thighs, hiking them over his shoulders from beneath the desk. his nose bumps against your clit, swollen from the lack of touch as he greedily inhales your scent once more— without warning, the intern kicks a stripe up the length of your pussy, sucking your juices into his mouth and smiling against your heat.

“d-don’t tease baby, be good for me,” you remind kirishima, your body trembles with anticipation, craving an orgasm to expel the stress of your work days out. the boy between your legs only hums, the sound running straight though cunt and vibrating against it, causing you to gush and spill your arousal out onto the leather seat beneath your cheeks. eijirou feasts on the slick that seeps from your fluttering hole, gliding his tongue up and down your sex, allowing the occasional pressure from his nose to stimulate your bundle of nerves.

the pads of his thighs burn marks into your legs, using them as leverage to pull your heated core further into his mouth, “can’t help it ma’am, y’got such a pretty pussy...s’only right that i worship you…” eijirou breaths right against your puffy folds, eyes trained on the way your hole clenches around nothing. a primal urge flares in his chest, a desire— no, a need— to see you filled with something, any part of him that can make you see stars and fuck you dumb. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry you jus look s’fucking pretty miss…”

attaching his lips to your clit, the redhead pushes the spit gathered on his tongue right over your sloppy sit, hazy ruby stare watching as his saliva mixes with your juices and slides over your empty hole. he follows the oozing trail with his tongue, lapping it up and spewing it back into your sex until the pink muscle slips past your entrance— slipping inside of you with no prior warnings. your knuckles that grasp the arms of the chair as you’re spoiled between your legs by your top intern, his hands snaking their way around the tops of your thighs to spread your sticky pussy lips apart in order to bring more of you to the cool air of the office.

“you like this don’cha? dirty little boy,” you tease the poor boy, watching as his cheeks flame with embarrassment. “being a naughty little intern between your boss’ thighs all to keep on pleasing her, keep your position at her company, huh? fuck eiji, you just love miss riding your naughty tongue—ohmygod—“

the way you sound, voice smooth like chocolate over the obscene slurping that fills the thats air heavy with the scent of sex and, makes eijirou’s cock jump up, precum oozing from his tip as he begins to rut against the hard floor beneath your desk. he makes an attempt to respond, but your thighs lock his head in place and his words come out muffled against your core. “mph, luh it, you’re s’sexy, please ma’am—“ he mumbles sordidly against you, practically humping the ground at your feet as you pick on him.

for a brief moment, kirishima pulls away to watch you roll your hips into nothing, hot tears beginning to brew into our hooded eyes from the satisfaction he brings you with every flick and flit of his tongue against where you need him most. written in your eyes is the command to keep going, your hands twistingly sharply in red roots to bring the intern back to your sluice, spasming cunt. so he does as he’s told, shoving his tongue deep inside your ribbed, iron hot walls and dragging tip along them to collect and taste strings of your viscous juices.

biting your lip, you do your best to hold back a voracious howl, bucking your hips feverishly into your intern’s face and staining his cheeks with everything that you have— he thrusts his tongue into you to the pace of your own hips, moaning against your slippery slit until your eyes are rolling. “gonna cum from this eiji, from you eatin’ me out like this...jus need a little more— need your fingers pretty boy,” you can feel the twist of the knot in your lower tummy starting to unravel, signifying your oncoming high, and the room starts to spin while kirishima eats you out with new vigour.

“yeah? miss? you’re gonna cum for me?” the intern practically whines and pulls his tongue from your hear, almost crying as his hips thump against the floor desperate for friction. “wanna see you come undone s’bad, please cum for me, please, please—“ eijirou chants, replacing his tongue with two of his thick digits, watching as your slick cunt stretches around them accommodatingly. he jackhammers them inside of you, grunting lowly underneath the slaps of his palm against the meat of your ass, as he returns to your clit to suckle on it hungrily. his fingers curl instantly in search for the spongy spot inside of you— bearing down hard against it once it’s located.

“oh—hah, right there baby— right fuckin’ there—!” you squeal, only egging him on as white starts to cloud your vision, everything sounds so nasty and wet, while eijirou stimulates both of your pleasure spots. it becomes hard to breath, legs wobbling around his broad shoulders, but your intern doesn’t let up, determined to bring you to cloud nine.

“that’s it ma’am, right there—you’re almost there, can feel you clenching around my fingers...please cum, fuck i want your cum, wanna taste you so bad, cum. cum. cum!” and that’s all it takes, eijirou’s pleading voice between your thick thighs to make the coil inside you snap and for your orgasm to wash over you. you convulse in your chair, nectar gushing freely from your raw and overstimulated cunt, spewing all over the redheads face as he continued to lap at your clit to ride out your high.

but he doesn’t stop there, scissoring his fingers deep within your velvet walls as you continue to cum, making you shake your head and wail from the high levels of ecstasy.

“please eiji—n’more, can’t, no—“

“you can miss, i know you can—fuck you look so pretty when you’re about to squirt for me, please…”

as quickly as your first high ended, another one comes crashing over you in harsh waves— rocking your world as clear liquid floods from your pussy— the sheer force of you squirting, pushing kirishima’s fingers out from your tight, sappy hole. your release hits the floor with a crude slap, both of you moaning loudly almost for the whole world to hear. he doesn’t stop sucking, clearing up your pretty cunt even as you fade in and out of consciousness from pleasure— he stays lapping at you with burning, languid strokes of his tongue between your folds even as you weakly attempt to answer the phone now ringing from your desk.

clearing your throat, you muster up the strength to sound professional over the line before picking up the phone and bringing it towards your ear. “good afternoon, this is yn ln of shinku sports reports, bringing you the latest sporting news, how may i help you?”

‘this is the board, we need to discuss this month's stocks and reports.’

from the corner of your eye, you can see kirishima rise from his place underneath your desk— standing tall over you once more while you converse with the directors on the other end of the phone. as quietly as he can, the redhead tears through the buttons on his shirt in a similar way to you, prior to you fucking and unbuckles his slacks. he pulls down his boxers and pants in one go, revealing his thick, hard girth that stands tall and slaps against his stomach— tip an angry shade of red as precum smears across his lower belly.

you nod into the phone, forgetting that the board can’t see you as kirishima lifts you from the chair and lays you on your back across the desk littered with unread papers. “ah yes, i’ve been expecting a call from you…” you whisper so quietly instead, not caring if they’ve missed what you said. you’re hardly paying attention, choosing to wrap a fist around eijirou’s cock, slickly pumping him to prepare him to take you— he parts your thighs, eyes closing and body shuddering above you while you continue to converse with the board.

spreading the droplets of precum across his slit and iron hot tip, kirishima takes his cock from your grasp— heavily slapping it against your sensitive and swollen clit to see you jolt up the desk. “gonna fuck you so good miss, jus’ be good ‘n stay quiet for me okay?” he says, a whimper catching in the tail end of his words. you nod to him, rushed and way too eager, laying your head back on the hard wood your swimming gaze settles on kirishima as he taps the head of his cock against your hole, teasingly pushing it just past your entrance before withdrawing again.

‘ms. ln, are you still there? we really are pressed for time so we would love to start by discussing interviews for the next issue—‘

you forget that you’re still connected on the line, settling for wriggling impatiently underneath your intern, who’s caramel tinted skin glistens with sweat and his cheeks begin to flush with unadulterated desire— all from watching the way your puffy folds lube up his shaft with every push through them. you can see him losing his resolve, just as sensitive as you since he’s been holding back an orgasm and without the hint of a warning, eijirou’s hips jump forward and drive his cock into the deepest parts of your sex— brushing against your cervix. you gasp out in surprise, finally losing focus and barely manage a more comprehensive response to the board you have waiting on the line. “y-yes!— yes, yes, i’m still here… you may proceed with the meeting.”

he’s big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever had— and you’d seen a lot being a woman of your caliber this high up in the industry...but no one could compare to the way your sweet, doe eyed gentlemanly little intern filled you up, fat cock stretching your walls even with the shallow thrusts into your cunt he gives you to adjust. the weight of his girth sits heavily inside you, twitching as kirishima slides into you easily due to the stickiness lining your gummy walls, breath shaky and uneven as he holds out for you during this time. you can tell the poor boy isn’t going to last long, fingers sinking into your thighs with a harsh grip while he tries to hold himself back.

such a good boy, always waiting for your every command.

‘so we’d like to talk about the main feature for next month’s issue, do you have anyone in mind?’

the monotone voice of the board member is drowned about by kirishima’s shaky breaths above you, his pleading puppy dog eyes while he stills himself inside your spasming, puckered hole— he waits for permission, following orders like a trained pet even though he can hardly stand it, overwhelmed by the flutter of your sex around him and heat from your body despite thrown over the desk. “y-you’re s’warm...god ma’am...need to—need to move,” the redhead huffs weakly in order to keep himself quiet, a line of sweat dotting his brow. “please,”

you sit up on the desk, legs locking around his slender waist to draw him closer, sheathing more of the poor boy inside of you until he’s completely bottomed out and balls deep inside your pretty cunt. he drops his neck to your shoulder, tongue lolling over your salt licked skin before biting down to pacify himself, sharp teeth almost drawing blood while you adjust the cord of the phone. “i was thinking…thinking that we got the hockey player— the oylmpic champion…” your eyes drift to kirishima’s complacent face, giving him a nod to start moving while he sucks another bruise further down his onto your collarbone. “t-touya...touya todoroki—!”

you hiccup but play it off with a cough when kirishima pulls back his hips, so far that his girth completely leaves you, before he drives himself forward with one powerful thrust and fills you right up again. looking down, you see him bulge in your tummy, the line of his girth prominent against your body— slightly dwarfed in kirishima’s arms. you rock your hips, coaxing your intern into your warmth to help him build up a momentum of thrusts.

‘sounds like a good choice, do we have anyone who could interview him? i believe we can have PR set up an interview this week.’

the desk creaks below you, hard wood groaning along with the red head who hides himself in your neck, squeaking pathetically as he moves inside of you— precum smearing along your gummy walls that welcome his hardened shaft. your pussy opens up for eijirou like it’s welcoming him home, still growing used to the pleasure-filled burn and stretch of him pushing in and out of you. the nerves on his head catch amongst your inner ridges, making his toned body shake in ecstasy.

“m-ma’am, feel s’fucking good, so fucking good...” your intern hums against your salty skin mawkishly, large palms dropping to the flesh of your ass— kneading it to bring you closer to his body— cock barely leaving you due to your proximity. with slow strokes, eijirou fills you up, painting you with what leaks from his tip— prodding at your cervix and brushing up against your sweet spot in ways that make sweet nectar dribble from your hole.

your digits curl in his hair once more, the phone slipping from between your neck and creating rustling on your end. “eijirou,” you sigh breathily, humping back his cock while you squeeze around him selfishly, keeping your intern inside of you. “i-i mean eijirou kirishima, he’s an intern— such a… a good one at that…”

a immodest whimper brews in the base of eijirou’s throat, bubbling against his bruised lips while you shower him with praise, indirect to him, hand snaking up to the back of your neck— tangling in your baby hairs as he pulls you up to a sloppy kiss, slotting your mouths together and running his tongue over yours. “f-fuck mommy, ‘m i your good boy? please tell me yes, fuck, yn— ma’am,”

kirishima’s voice rises in octave as it does devoir and pathos, vulnerability stays written across his handsome features as he succumbs to the mind break the heat of your damp, creamy core as he fucks into you. you throb at his use of mommy, shakily pulling the phone away from your ear to reach up to his own, nipping the earlobe and tugging on it gently. “you’re my good boy baby, keep being good eiji, be quiet...you gotta stay quiet if you want to keep fucking mommy okay? you wanna cum inside me right?” you say, words aberrant and low toned on your tongue, your intern hisses and whines in response— nodding his head again and letting out a barely coherent ‘yes’. “then shh, baby, let mommy talk yeah?”

“hm’kay,” he babbles, dropping his ruby framed gaze to where your bodies meet, hiking your skirt further up your thighs to get a better view of your cunt staining his heavy balls with a layer of your slick.

‘ms. ln, are you sure that you want an intern to cover this case—’ the board begins to ask you, muffled from the distance away from you both.

picking up the phone again, you pull the line towards you again— mindful of capturing eijirou’s weak little mewls over the device as he languidly pumps himself in and out of you. “i know what i—fuck, what i want. eijirou, will be—oh— on the case. that's final.” you huff, watching your intern fall into a pussyhaze, his precious mind fogging with thoughts of only painting you white inside and out as a reward for helping relieve you of stress. the slow roll of his hips into yours are accompanied by the soft slaps of his skin against your own, wet and sticky— determination to make you feel good crackling across his mind.

‘there’s no need to curse, ma’am, do you need a moment to recollect yourself before we proceed with discussing the other features.’

“i’m fucking fine,” you growl, in anger or need you don’t know. but kirishima frowns, you can feel it as he start nosing up your cheek— swiping his tongue over areas of skin he hasn’t touched just yet— he grunts possessively , unhappy with the use of your title coming from anyone other than him. to prove his point, he pushes your thighs wider apart, letting you drip all over the documents sitting below your ass and ruining the ink— important or not he starts a brutal pace into your cunt and presses down on your tummy so you can feel exactly where eijirou is inside you and know that only he can make you feel this way.

‘ms.ln—‘

“i’m fine. keep going.” you grit your teeth, biting your lip to hold down your panting— again you don’t know who you’re speaking to. your intern who slows the movement of his hips, postponing in and out of your tightened hole, clamping down on him eagerly or the stupid board member giving you grief on the phone.

they proceed to talk, barking out suggestions to your sports magazine, that you hate— even considering bringing in good for nothing athletes who’d treated you like shit in the past, and you’d sworn to never work for them again.

but it’s almost silly, how kirishima lets out small moans of mommy and ma’am, trying to keep your attention on him like you would give up grinding down on your intern’s dick for some prissy member of the board over the phone— but you love the slight possession eijirou has over you, moulding your iron hot walls into the shape of his fat dick that presses up against your pleasure spots, makes you convulse and drawl and become addicted to everything that is him. eijirou kirishima.

“takin’ me so good, so well ma’am...don’t think i can hold on anymore…please,” eijirou warns you, losing control of his body as he takes you for his own like he’s done many times before after hours— your gazes lock, you can see his desperation to ruin you, moan for you despite the people on the phone and the people outside your office.

if he grows too loud, he could give you away— they could be listening in to your poor needy little intern humping you like a feral dog and whining your name. and as much as that thought makes your hole spasm around his fat cock, make his thrusts stutter and eyes screw shut while you moan in sweet, almost silent harmony, you love your job and so weakly, you take two of your fingers, shoving them deep into eijirou’s mouth as it hangs open in heavy pants of warm air. you press down on his wet tongue, fucking into his mouth in tune with the pace of his hips plunging deep within your walls, churning up your syrupy and sticky insides.

“keep quiet, baby,” you hiss to the redhead, who’s eyes start to brim with fresh hot tears from the overwhelming pleasure. “let mommy take care of this, yeah? finish up so you can let it all out on me.”

he sucks on your fingers to calm himself down, shallow breathing while he paws at the flesh on your sides and circles his hips into yours— letting his leaky tip bare down on your sweet spot and forcing the air out of your body. white hot pleasure flashes through your bloodstream, replacing any air of professionalism flooding through them. you can’t, you physically cannot hold back either of your orgasms— you can’t concentrate as your mind starts to fall away with the world and your gaze hones in on the way kirishima takes your fingers in his hot mouth so deep in an attempt to hush himself.

the coil in your tummy begins to unwind and the room swims once more. ‘ms.ln is everything okay over there— we need to progress with his meeting if we’re—‘ the annoying board member sounds underneath kirishima’s sloppy groans, saliva dribbling down the sides of his mouth. your dirty, good boy.

“i’m going to need to take a rain—hah— a rain check on this meeting. you’ll hear from me when my interns and i are ready—“ you huff, cutting the staff off and quickly throwing the phone onto the hook, you’ll have keigo deal with the consequences later but for now you focus on kirishima who picks you up by the ass, lifting you up and down on his cock in frantic movements as he finally loses all connections to his control. “ohmygod—eiji baby, slow—fuck, down—“

he shakes his head, latching onto your collar bone as he revels in the way you leak down his shaft and drip between his balls, lewd squelching sounds fluttering through the air hot, sex scented air at full volume. “‘m sorry ma’am— i can’t… i’m really close, i really need’ta cum...please ma’am...mommy, i’ve been good—please let me cum...“ eijirou groans heartily, from deep in his chest as if he’s finally releasing what he’s been holding back— arms flexing and the sweat from his body slicking up your own.

limbs shaking you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your foreheads against one another, while you nod. he worked so hard to make you feel good, all day long to do the best job that he can— pressing small kisses to his lips encouragingly. “you can do it baby, one last thing for me— fill me up eiji, cum for me.” you whisper between bites and sucks on his lower lip, lined with a vibrant shade of red.

“cummin’, cummin’...miss yn, mommy—!” and then his hips come to a halt, his dick pulsing as waves of his cream line your insides with an opaque white, thick and seeping down your thighs. his fingers drop to your sensitive cunt, slipping quick circles over your swollen clit to bring you to your high. his cock never stops pumping in and out of you, pushing his seed further into your sex while you writhe and fall over the edge into your orgasm— gushing so hard you force him out of plugged and full hole.

losing his strength, kirishima collapses on top of you, pressing out both to the hard wood seat which you’re surprised is still standing, his lips pressing fleeting kisses across your face and neck while you both come back down to earth.

and then he looks up at you with a weak smile, “did i do good?” he asks you lazily and almost sleepily— refusing to budge from laying atop you and almost crushing you with his weight.

pushing back his hair to soothe him. “always eiji, you’re not my favourite intern for nothing,” you coo at him, pulling him up to press your lips to him in a soft kiss.

“i sure hope you don’t have any other favourites, i want to be the only one who assists you like this,” kirishima says, remaining tangled with you for a moment more in your office, content with snuggling into your exposed and bruised side.

you share a sleepy giggle, intending to clean up later— eijirou completely forgetting about the lunch he’d promised the other interns after your meeting.

oh well, assisting you was a much better treat than spending time with any one else.

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lilyblyss · 3 years

Text

So a while ago I was on a call with some friends and they said "Man, I'd really like a fic with Nanami and his mimosa drunk wife wanting to have sex with him" and I said "give me four months" and here we are lol. This really... got away from me and isn't as sweet as I thought it was going to be going in lol

Warning/Tags: 18+, Fem-bodied reader, Dub-con (???); Drunk YN, manhandling, ignoring “no”, fem-bodied reader, no pronouns, a slight corruption kink if I can call it that? Coercion, impact play (two hits), and I think that's all?

Sunday mornings were Nanami’s days off. Sometimes he spends it with his wife; lounging in bed until the late morning, cooking a late breakfast, and simply indulging in each other until the night slips in and lulls you both to sleep. Other times, you go out for breakfast with your friends, leaving him with a hot pot of coffee and a buttered croissant ready to be reheated in the oven. It seems today was one of those Sundays.

He woke up around ten in the morning. He let a small smile grace his face, getting out of bed and throwing on his grey cardigan and dark blue sweatpants. He headed to the kitchen, making his cup of coffee and opening the newspaper that sat nicely on the kitchen island. He moved to the loveseat in the living room, sighing pleasantly as he leaned back, allowing the warmth of the sunlight peeking through the curtains to bathe him. It was a wonderful start to a late morning and the only thing that could make this any better was the hum of his wife, moving around and trying to find something to do.

He didn’t have too much time to miss you though. A little past eleven, rhythmic knocking on the door pulled him away from his flicker with the TV remote. He was a little confused though; you never went anywhere without your house keys, so the thought of you being locked out was almost unfathomable.

When he opened the door you had your face heavily leaned forward as you wrestled with your bag, no doubt trying to get it open. He watched for too long as you patted the pockets of your skirt, probably to see if you had another set of keys with you. He called your name and you looked up at him in shock, almost as if you were surprised your off-work husband would be there to open the door for you. It took longer than necessary for your eyes to recognize him, and a dazed smile grew on your face. He sighed, cursing at the situation.

“Kento!” You slurred, reaching forward to lean against the door. “Hi, hey, you come here often?”

“We live here.” He leaned out the door, eyes scanning the cars to see your friends about to drive off, mouthing apologies. “Y/N, you’re drunk.”

You pouted. “I’m barely even tipsy, lemme in the house.”

He shook his head, wrapping an arm around your waist, making you lean your weight against him. He reached down, hand wrapping around the back of your knee to lift it and pulling your shoes off your feet. The weight of his hands against you caused a shiver to run through your body and warmth to spread through your body. It hadn’t been that long since the two of you had been intimate, but the alcohol flowing through your system did nothing but make your thoughts linger on just what Nanami could do to you. You whimpered when the hands on your waist tightened when you swayed.

“What were you even drinking?” Nanami asked, all but carrying you to the couch. Your arms wrapped around his neck, legs basically dead weight, not feeling the need to walk if Nanami was going to take care of you.

“Mimosas,” you replied, leaving little kisses on his neck. He sighed, trying to gently lay you on the couch, you refused to release him even when he sternly called you. He unwraps your arms from his neck and you huff when your back hits the plushness of the couch, pawing at his open cardigan. “Kento, kiss me.”

“Sweetie, you’re drunk,” He says, trying to gently pull your hands away from him. You shook your head, refusing to let him go.

“No, I'm not, I'm barely even tipsy! It’s fine, just kiss me!”

He stared at your puppy dog eyes for a moment before kissing your forehead. You whined, pulling him closer to you, arching your back to press your chest against his. Your cry of ‘more, Kento’ sounded needy in your ears, but the way it pressed against the skin of Nanami’s neck was arousing to him. Nanami groaned, placing his hands down and curling his fingers in the cushion. He tried to keep himself up, not wanting to crush you, but you continued to try to pull him to you. You whimpered again, moving one of your calves to hook behind his knee.

“Kento, please, I want you.”

“What, are you really that horny?” His breathing was getting heavy; it was nice to know that your needy actions were getting a rise out of him.

Your usual response would have been something sassy, maybe a little bashful or flirty, something that would put a smirk on Nanami’s face, but you just wanted his hands on you. Your usual coyness was nowhere to be found as you ground against his thigh. “Yes, Kento! I want you to fucking kiss me.”

Despite feeling like kissing you now would be crossing the line, Nanami kissed you. He tried keeping the kiss soft; sweet and wholesome to not encourage anything more than just a kiss, but you didn’t want that. You lightly licked his bottom lip, coaxing his lips open to deepen the kiss. Even though he didn’t want to indulge you, Nanami let you, letting out small groans as your tongue licked against the roof of his mouth, cringing at the taste of sweet citrus masked alcohol. Still, he kept the kiss nice and slow, forcing you to follow him instead of the other way around.

Seeing that your kiss wasn’t doing the trick, you snuck your hand down to the front of his pants, cupping the growing erection, gasping when he caught your wrist with a deep groan.

“Don’t.”

“You wanna touch me too, don’t you?”

He let his head gently drop against yours, “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is. Touch me. Please. I want you so much, Kento.”

He let out a curse, your hand pumping him a few times before one of your fingers circled the head, each time he bucked his hips, you loosened your grip slightly, teasing him. You released him, bringing both your hands to his shoulders and massaging them a bit, running your lips against his strong jawline. He let out a low grunt, shoulder muscles flexing as he tried to resist the urges quickly growing inside him, and you weren’t doing anything to help him.

Arching your back, making sure to press your breasts against his chest, breathing lewdly against his lips, watching as his cheeks began to warm into a flushed red color, you knew you had him.

One of his hands cupped your chin, bringing you into a hot kiss, his other arm wrapping around your waist and finally pressing his weight against you. He briefly wondered if he should try and move you to the bedroom, but you quickly made that decision for him by fully wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him flush against you. The fabric of your skirt kept you from rubbing entirely against him, but the friction it caused against your clit was nice. He figured you didn’t mind being fucked against the couch and the way you were moving your hips against him made him not mind either.

He tried to pull your shirt off, but you wouldn’t stop squirming and making it hard for him. He pulled away, licking his lips. You whined at him, once again trying to pull him into you. He placed his thumb against your bottom lip, delighted when you automatically pull it into your mouth and suck. “You’re being so needy, love.” He murmured.

“Because I need you,” you sighed, teeth lightly digging into his finger as you spoke.

“I need to get your clothes off then.” He tried to pull away again, but the thought of him pulling away didn’t sit right with you. You tightened your hold on him, leaning forward and biting his neck harshly. He groaned in slight pain, his hands moving to your waist and forcing you against the couch. The breath was pushed out of your lungs when he grabbed your wrists from around his neck, pinning them to the couch.

You rolled your hips against him, letting out a small moan when he rolled his hips against yours, pressing you more into the couch. You let out a soft sigh, “Kento, please.”

Moving both your wrists to one of his hands, he used the other to push your shirt over your chest, lightly fingering the lace of your bra before pulling it down and letting your breasts spill out. He wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking and nibbling it. You tried to pull your hands from Nanami’s hold, groaning when he bit you, sucking a hickey against the curve of your breast. Your head leaned back, mouth laid open as Nanami humped you slowly, wanting more of him. You plead with him again, one of your feet trying to hook on the side of his sweatpants.

He grabbed your ankle, pushing it away and reaching under your skirt to touch you. “We have to get your clothes off first.”

You pouted, "Then stop getting distracted!"

"I have to make sure you're ready for me." He stated hotly, hand almost aggressive as he grabbed one of your thighs, making a space for him between them. Even though Nanami seems like a paragon of patience, it wasn't amiss for him to lose his temper from time to time, especially when you're being bratty.

His thumb pressed against you, large hand laying against your hip, pulling it back in shock when he pressed directly against your wetness. You whined at the loss, trying to buck your hips against his hand, “You don’t have to! Just put it in!”

Nanami inhaled deeply, eyes dilating as he took you in. “How long have you—where is your underwear?”

“I took them off at the restaurant before we left,” you said hurriedly, bucking your hips angrily because he simply refused to touch you. “I was thinking about you before we left brunch. I wanted you inside me, so I made sure I’d be ready for you, so please.”

Instead of him taking his pants off and fucking you like you hoped he would, he pulled away, pushing your knees against your chest. He fell to his knees in front of you, wasting no time putting his lips against your warmth. Foreplay was always Nanami’s favorite part; he loved watching you become desperate for his touch, wanting you to be able to see you lose yourself in pleasure, and hated the thought of anyone else getting to see you in such a state besides him. But the more he thought about you, desperately thrusting your fingers into yourself at some bathroom, hoping that would make you ready to take him when you returned home, the more he wanted to make you feel good.

There was no way your fingers would reach what his longer ones could, or stretch you as his thicker ones could.

His tongue vigorously pressed against your entrance, wrapping his hands around your thighs when you began to buck against him.

“N-no! Kento, please fuck me!” You gripped his hair hard, pulling it just as you began to shiver as his tongue worked inside you. Whenever Nanami ate you out, he always made sure he was thorough, almost as if he was eating you out for himself instead of for you. Right now was no different. Even as you pushed against him, telling him you were ready for his cock, damn near begging for him to fuck you, all he did in response was wrap his lips around your clit and suck. You thrashed around, trying and failing to push his head away from you, tears sitting against your bottom lashes as he continued to ignore you. His tongue persisted, thrusting in and out of you sensually, and you could feel your orgasm building quickly thanks to the alcohol. You whined deeply, thighs squeezing Nanami’s head as a way to get him to slow down, not wanting to come until he was inside you.

You cried out when his palm harshly landed against your thigh, tensing at the hold he suddenly had on you. He pulled your legs apart, and you tried scooting away from him.

“Behave,” he groaned, pulling you closer to him by your thighs, “you know how I hate to be interrupted while I’m eating.”

You wanted to push against him more, but with his grip, you knew there was little you could do. He refused to stop, continuing to tongue fuck you as if it would be the last time he’d ever get a taste of you. Your hands ran through his hair and this time instead of trying to push him away, you pulled him closer, needing to ground yourself as you blew through your orgasm, not having the sense enough to muffle your moans and screaming into the open air. Your legs locked around his head, holding him in place as you came down from your high, breathing heavily as Nanami groaned against you. He pressed kisses against your lower lips until your legs loosened against him and your hands went slack in his hair. He smirked, leaning back and licking his lips. He delighted in the way you struggled to calm yourself, legs shaking slightly as he forced them open, placing his fingers inside of you.

“Good job,” He hummed.

“Kento,” you moaned weakly, placing a hand on his wrist as his fingers curl inside you. His unoccupied hand moved to his pants, pushing the waistband of his pants down and palming his cock. He let out a deep breath as he jerked himself, moving slowly despite his fingers moving so quickly inside you.

“Don’t rush me.”

You could tell he was starting to get irritated with your behavior, but you couldn’t find the will to care. Nanami was thorough in all that he did and pleasuring you was no exception. And while Nanami would never say it out loud, one of the biggest pleasures he got from sex was setting the tone, slowly building you both up to that wonderful end. Making sure to take the time to explore all your sexual avenues was what Nanami longed for in sex. While you loved his slow approach, his need to make sure you were taken care of in every sense of the word, you needed him now. You didn’t need orgasm after orgasm today, you didn’t need the slow approach. All you needed right now was him inside of you.

“Kento, hurry up!”

The shocked yelp you let out was matched only by the sound of his hand connecting with your thigh again, and this time hard enough to smart.

“I said don’t rush me.”

The gruff developing in his already deep voice made you clench around his fingers. You could feel your heart both flutter and drop. It seems as if you’d pushed him a little too much. The way his fingers stopped inside you, holding your hip firmly with his other hand, making you wait and once again forcing you to play by his rules, was an indicator of that.

“You want me?” He said it like a fact because he already knew the answer. You resisted the urge to throw your head back in desperation.

“You already know,” you gasp out, breath catching in your throat when he curls his fingers, hitting your g-spot roughly as a punishment. “Fuck, Kento.”

“Say it. I want to hear it now so we can continue.”

You glanced at him, eyes pitifully wet with want, breathing heavily through your nose, hoping that your face could motivate him to take you already. It didn’t, all he did was watch you, eyes dilated and his eyebrow raised. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him, but he was being difficult just for the sake of being difficult it seemed. Nanami was just as likely to throw a tantrum in his own way as anyone else.

Sighing deeply in faux disappointment, he pressed against your g-spot again, leaning forward and pressing kisses to your lower stomach, taking his sweet time while you squirmed. “I don’t mind making you come again, love. I have all day after all.”

You could still feel the sensations of your last orgasm dancing up your nerves, and knew that with the way his fingers were pressing against you, he’d either send you through another orgasm, or he’d overstimulate you. Knowing Nanami Kento, he was probably aiming for both.

“Please, god, please fuck me, Kento.”

With that, he was satisfied, coming up from his knelt position, making himself comfortable between your legs before slowly pushing himself in. He groaned when you bucked your hips, moaning as you tried to speed up the process. You’d think after coming once and him fucking you open with his fingers, he’d think you were ready to be fucked. But Nanami was nothing if not overly prepared. Instead of grabbing your hips, forcing you still like you’d expect of him, he glared at you, thrusting the rest of himself into you. He only gave you a moment to adjust before he thrust rapidly into you, no longer wasting any time.

Each thrust forced a moan out of you, briefly shocked that Nanami would start with such a rough pace. Then, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing your face against the skin of his neck, and let out a choked chuckle hidden under the gist of a moan. Knowing that the usually morally upstanding Nanami Kento, who made sure he had your explicit consent before even kissing you, was pushed to the point where he was fucking you within an inch of your life while you were drunk. And your friends had insisted that you couldn’t do it. This was a boost to your ego, and you shivered at the thought.

Nanami, already having a clue to what you were thinking, groaned. “You’re truly unbelievable.”

You giggled again. Despite how it seemed, you knew Nanami doesn’t mind the rough play a little bit. Though sometimes you push your own limits, Nanami enjoys moments like these where he can let loose and just do without having to think too hard about it. Besides, it wasn’t as if you didn’t enjoy being manhandled and roughed up by Nanami. So the consequences might be a little discomfort between your legs, or maybe a small limp for a day or two, letting Nanami use you to let out the stress he accumulated during the week was worth it.

#nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #jjk smut #nanami supremacy #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #tw dubcon #tw dubious consent

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bunny-xoxo · 3 years

Text

Laundry Day

Modern!Armin x fem!reader

18+ MINORS DNI

warning(s): oral(f) receiving, masturbation(m), swearing

a/n: ok so this is like my first full blown smut piece on here 😳 and I wasn’t expecting it to be about Armin either wbshdhehkws but I was talking with @armins-futon about him andddd here we are so I hope y’all enjoy 🤪 ALSO CONGRATS ON 400 BB THIS IS OFFICIALLY A GIFT POST FOR YOU AND YOUR MILESTONE‼️‼️

gif not mine, credit to owner

Armin grunted ahead of you as he walked into the laundry room, huffing as he set the laundry basket down.

“Ya know, I’m pretty sure I don’t need help doing laundry sweetie.” He looked at you over his shoulder where you stood quietly peeking in the doorway.

You rolled your eyes and sauntered over to hop onto the dryer where you swung your hanging feet, your heels hammering into the cold metal.

“How the hell did you hear me? I wanted to scare you.” You sighed and crossed your arms, leaning back to rest your head against the cupboard behind you.

It was a little game you guys played, and buy you guys I mean only you. You loved getting Armin startled. Well you think you would if you were ever actually successful in doing so. You’d hide behind doorways, under beds, in the closet, even in the garage after he’s come home from work but nothing ever worked. And it was starting to really bum you out.

“Don’t pout because it didn’t work, maybe you’ll get me next time.” He always said this, too.

You scoffed and turned your head to watch him. His toned arms were digging deep into the basket to pull out the last of the laundry, and the small of his back was showing from the way he was bent over to properly reach the clothes. He pulled his arms out but instead of grabbing laundry he grabbed your shins, looking up at you from his position. He was holding your legs flush against the dryer, preventing you from swinging your feet to bang loudly on it.

“Stop.” His tone of voice made you squirm.

You nod your head and give him a little smile, slightly embarrassed at how easy it is for him to affect you like that.

He stands up and stretches his arms after putting the last of the laundry in, his stomach peeking out from the bottom of his shirt, and he starts to move in front of you. You swear he does shit like that on purpose sometimes.

Standing in front of you now, he pushes your legs apart by the plush of your inner thighs and slowly moves his hands to the outer bits of them, taking his time to really feel how soft your skin is, before he roughly yanks you forward and closer to him. The metal pulls at your skin in the process and stings a little, but now your face to face with him and the discomfort is long forgotten.

“‘Scuse me sweetie, don’t want you to hit your head.” He drags his left hand up your side to cup and move your head into his chest, and with your face buried there you can still smell his body wash from his shower that morning. And when he closes the cupboard he pulls your head back by your hair, only slightly tugging on it, to kiss your nose and go back to doing laundry.

Now that he definitely did on purpose.

After pouring in the detergent he grabbed, he opted for setting it on the dryer instead of putting it back, picking you up off of it and grabbing onto your hand to pull you into a hug. This was only so he could get better access to whisper into your ear, “c’mon, let’s watch something while we wait for them to be done.”

His voice was soft and low, sending chills down your spine as you simply nodded.

You both plopped onto the couch to find something mindless to put on for the next half hour. His arms snaked around your waist and pulled you into his chest after he pressed play, his fingers drawing mindless figures onto your skin.

You guys sat like this for most of the time when you were suddenly struck with an idea, noticing how he was starting to doze off.

“I’ll be right back, I gotta go pee.” You peeled his arms off you when he hummed in response, quietly padding off to the bathroom. Of course you didn’t really have to use the bathroom, you were gonna scare him.

You waited a few minutes in the hallway with your hand over your mouth, doing your best to stifle your giggles. If he wasn’t practically asleep when you left you were sure he’d have heard you by now, maybe that’s why it never worked.

You waited a minute more before crouching down and crawling into the living room. You were moving as slowly and silently as humanly possible until you reached the end of the couch.

You shot up and shouted, thinking you’d really done it this time, except he was no longer peacefully sleeping on the couch like you’d left him.

You thought maybe you waited too long and the timer went off before you could scare him. But before you could turn around to try to find him you felt strong arms lift you up from behind paired with a shout.

You felt your heart jump and let out a little holler even though you knew the culprit was obviously Armin.

You groaned and smacked his arms while he carried you to the couch.

“Ugh! No fair Armin! I never get to scare you and now you scare me?!”

He set you down on the couch on your back and hovered above you, still chuckling to himself as he reached down to cup your cheek.

“Aww I’m sorry baby, but I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend if I let you win.” He was smiling sweetly but his tone was nowhere sweet, it was condescending and mischievous.

“Yeah whatever.” You smacked his upper arms but let your hands linger there, squeezing the muscle lightly that was tense from the way he was holding himself up.

You let your eyes wander down his arms and to his chest before you looked back up to his face. You could feel your cheeks immediately start to get warm when you realize how obviously you had just gawked at him.

“Yeah?” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice when he said that.

You groaned and hit his chest this time, refusing to look at him.

You could feel him lean down closer to you, his body heat making you even warmer.

“Here, let me make it up to you for scaring you so bad, yeah?” His throat sounded dry when he whispered that, swallowing after he spoke and kissing your cheek lightly.

He wanted you as bad as you wanted him.

His soft lips began leaving what started out as sweet kisses down the side of your neck and on the bits of your chest that were exposed, but now they were wet and needy with bites littering your collar bones.

“Armin, please.” Your voice was breathy and strained.

You were desperately pawing at his shoulders as he moved his hands to your shorts. You lifted your hips as he pulled them down along with your underwear.

“I know pretty girl, sit up for me.” He sat up on the couch and brought you with him, awkwardly adjusting the two of you until your back was resting against the cushions with your thighs resting on his shoulders.

He was on the ground in front of you, kneading the tops of your thighs as he bit along the inside of them, making you jump slightly and quickly grab handfuls of his hair.

You bucked your hips towards him when he left a pathetic kiss to your lips, his warm breath teasing you.

This was his favorite way to have you, legs spread and exposed for him. You whining and doing your best to convince to just touch you with your body squirming.

He moved his arm to bring two of his long fingers to your pussy, spreading your lips to see you desperately clench around nothing.

“Armin!” You pulled on his hair again and he was brought back down, looking up at your face and smiling sweetly.

“Sorry baby, I forgot this was about you.” He chuckled and kept staring at you while he shoved his middle finger in you at an agonizingly slow pace.

You tried to move your hips out of instinct but Armin’s other hand was keeping you in place now.

“I know baby, I’ll give you more. I’m just making sure you’re ready first.”

That was always his excuse when he was teasing you like this.

But before you could complain he had 2 fingers inside you and was curling them up at just the right spot.

You let out an erotic moan and tried to pull his face closer to where you wanted him most.

“Yeah? You want my mouth, too?”

You feverishly nodded and looked down to see his eyes dark with his pupils blown and flushed cheeks. God could he just start already.

He pulled his fingers out of you and moved his hands to spread your thighs even farther, the burn worth it when you finally felt his mouth on you.

He buried his face into you and wasted no time in running his tongue along your inner folds, humming to himself when he first got a taste of what he’d been needing.

He brought his hand up to spread your folds and shake his head slightly, making his tongue work hard against your clit. That wasn’t enough for him though.

He moved his hand so his thumb could rub your clit as his tongue fucked your hole, needing to taste more of you. The closer you got the harder you pulled on his hair, only making him groan in response.

He brought his other hand to his cock, shoving his hand down his sweatpants to give himself even a small sense of relief, his head swollen and dripping with pre-cum at how bad he needed you.

“Fuck baby, do you know what you do to me?” He pulled away breathless, his mouth and chin glistening and his eyes glossy, you could see his chest heaving from where you were and slight movements from his left arm let you know exactly what you do to him.

He didn’t give you a chance to respond when he dove back in, latching onto your clit this time and sucking harshly, effectively pushing you over the edge.

“Oh, god, f-fuck!” You whined and groaned, rolling your hips against him as you rode out your orgasm, Armin not letting up once til you lightly pushed on his head.

“Baby, please, I’m done.” You panted and closed your eyes, relaxing into the couch cushions behind you.

He sat up and you caught a glimpse of the wet spot and tent forming in his sweatpants before he pulled them down to let his cock spring free,

“Oh? You’re just gonna leave me like this?” He was breathless too, and even though he sounded cocky you knew how desperate he was for your touch.

You looked up at him with hazy eyes and a lazy smile, sitting up slightly as you reached out.

“Well, I gu-“

You were rudely interrupted by the timer on your phone signaling it was time to move the clothes from the wash.

Armin jumped, startled, and turned the phone off.

“Fucking- stupid- ugh.”

He tossed the phone angrily onto the other side of the couch and huffed at your amusement from his scare.

You giggled one last time and wrapped your hand around his cock, biting your lip at the sight of him groaning and, this time, grabbing your hair, watching you intently.

You smiled up at him sweetly, “don’t worry, the clothes can wait a few more minutes.”

——————

PLS TELL ME ALL YOUR THOUGHTS POSTING THIS IS SCARY AND IM DESPERATE FOR VALIDATION

I hope you guys liked it 😭😭😭

-🐇out

taglist: @plutowrites @armins-futon

#aot smut #attack on titan smut #snk smut #shingeki no kyojin smut #armin arlert #armin x reader #armin smut #armin headcanons #armin hcs #armin x you #[h*rny.hours😐]#minors dni #armin x y/n

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dokifluffs · 3 years

Text

Baby Halloween | Suna, Osamu

Pairings: Suna X Reader (female), and Osamu X Reader (female)

Genre: domestic, spooky, fluffy halloween

Author’s Note: Osamu’s is canon (it’s not but you can’t tell me he WOULDN’T DO THIS). you can’t tell me otherwise. suna’s is also long ah ha ha

Baby Halloween | Konoha, Sakusa // Baby Halloween | Kenma and Kuroo // Baby Halloween | Kita, Tsukishima

Warnings! Haikyuu dads with kids, post time skip

Suna: gif from @rivaillerose 💛

Small hands tugged on his hand and arm dangling off the edge of the bed

He took a deep breath in and let out a longer breath as he stretched his body beneath the cover draped over his bare back

He laid on his stomach with one arm curled beneath the pillow half his face was smushed into, the other arm beginning to play with his little girl as she stood beside the tall bed of his

He twirled his fingers as she tried to catch them in her hands, her small voice letting out happy squeals as he played with her in her attempts to wake up her father

He purposefully ticked her, beneath her chin, played with her hair, gently nudged her around as she stumbled with her balance, trying to hold down her dad’s arm

“Hm, what’s up squirt?” Suna’s voice was raspy and muffled as half his face was still smushed into the pillow, part of him still asleep

“It’s halloween,” his little girl looked up to him with her bright yellow-grayish eyes and dark brown shoulder length hair, soft as anything he’s ever felt and it had always been this way when she was born

“Hm.. I see. Are you excited?” He pushed himself up as the blanket slid off his back, the sunlight shining through a crack in the curtains right onto him as he sat on the edge of bed, his bare feet meeting the fluffy carpet below

He pushed out a yawn, wiping away a stray tear that welled up in his eye as he scratched the back of his neck, stretching his torso

His little girl waddled and stood at his feet, reaching up to him

“upsy daisy,” he mumbled as he bent down, lifting her up to sit her on his hip as he stood, carrying her with him to the bathroom as he washed up and she sat on the sink counter beside him

he poked her plush cheeks, nuzzling them with the back of his index finger as she let out a big yawn, her little tongue sticking out as she did this and a little smile pulled on his lips

she was quiet just like him

while in the middle of brushing his teeth, he watched her do the same with her tooth brush, and even tied her hair into a simple pigtail on the top of her head

after washing up, he carried her out again, still in his pajamas which only consisted of black sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips as he walked into his little girl’s room, her small toddler bed unmade with half the little plush blanket hanging off the edge of the bed

“what do you wanna be this year?” he opened the wardrobe, sliding her clothes on the hanger to the side, pulling forward her costumes

“this one,” she quietly pointed, one arm hugging around her father’s neck, little fingers combed through the hair at the bottom of his neck as she pointed to the beige color little fox suit

“alright,” he hummed as he set her down on his bed, pulling the costume off the hanger, helping her get her feet through the fox onesie, zipping it up

she snuggled her face into the sweater paws of the costume as he pulled the hood up, little fox ears on top with a plush fox tail that dragged on the floor as she walked, following him back to his bedroom

she bounced around, hopping on her two feet, excitedly looking back to her tail

“are you a bunny now?” he smiled as he glanced down to her

“no,” she giggled up as she hugged his leg as the two of them stood in the master closet

“I guess I have to match with you,” he sighed as he pulled his old fox onesie, changing into it so now he was the papa fox and she was his baby fox

Osamu: gif from @rivaillerose 💛

“Y/N, are ya ready for the cutest costumes ever?” Osamu called from upstairs as you waited downstairs at the bottom in your own costume

Every year, well every year since your twins had been born, Osamu and you were to take turns dressing them up

Last year was their first halloween and you had the privilege to dress them and now this year, their second one was Osamu’s turn

“I’ve been ready for the last few minutes, ‘Samu, lemme see our babies,” you looked through your camera roll, looking back to last year’s photos that you took of their costumes which were a brown bear and panda bear while you and osamu were ice bears from the show “we bare bears”

A classic that you and Osamu loved to watch, even if it was pretty childish at times but still an amazing show for the two of you nonetheless

After all, having a marathon of that show ended up being one of your guys’s dates in college

And here the two of you were seven years later

Married, financially stable after a few rough two, almost three years since graduating from college but the hardships were over and it was smooth sailing for the two of you as Osamu’s success began to grow

He was all you needed and you were his - but then again, this all changed when you showed him the pregnancy test, and your little munchkins came

“Alright, eyes closed,” Osamu called as you went back to your camera app, preparing yourself to see them

But then again, nothing could ever truly prepare you for the two lives Osamu and you had brought into this world

“We’re comin’,” you couldn’t keep your heart from racing so fast, you had to cover your eyes from peeking on their own

You could hear their steps, well, Osamu’s as well as the giggles and baby sounds of your kids in his arms as he did the thing he always did while stepping down the steps whenever he held them

He always added a little extra bounce to make them laugh

“You two ready to show mommy our costumes?” He knelt beside them, his arms wrapped around their bodies, hands on their plump bellies

The two nodded as you squealed, squirming around the back of the arm of the couch you leaned on

“I’m most definitely winning this year, okay open your eyes in 3…2…1…”

“Oh my god!” You instantly collapsed to your knees, walking on them toward your twins as Osamu had dressed your daughter as a sushi roll and your son as a bottle of soy sauce

“Her little wasabi headband,” you squealed as Osamu wore his Onigiri Miya uniform, serving the two of them to you as himself

The two of them babbled as they raised their hands, spouting out incoherent sounds that you assumed were meant to be words

Osamu and you had been trying to get then to either say “mama” or “papa” first but alas, it was still too early

“So did I win?” He leaned down as he stuck his face in between theirs, pressing their cheeks to both sides of his own

And this did it

The three pairs of eyes of the ones you loved most in this world were just staring back at you all so cute in their outfits

“Yes, yes, you win, oh my god ‘Samu, my heart-“ you rest your hand on your chest as you overflowed your phone with pictures of the two of them, getting them to hold hands, to sit beside the pumpkins on the front step of the house

It was too perfect, you couldn’t have asked for a better husband or life at this point

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046 @mazey-chan @sunboikyo00 @kara-grayson04 @fortheloveofbakugo @tsumtsumsemi @1-800-wholesome@yamagucci @realityisoftendisapointing @plantisnotplant @pink-panda-pancakes @differentballooncollection @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction @euphorihan@turquoiselace @macaronnv @oxmaddy @mrkoala4prsdnt @curiouslilbeast @plantisnotplant@therestless101 @abcdaichi @oyasenpai @kaaidalupita @lovinnoya @wisepandaslimeland @killuaking @bbymilkbread @tsumtsumland @suunikimchi @woah-there-cowboy-or-cowgirl @amandahh626 @nabisonyeo94 @wntrmn @dai-tsukki-desu @peteunderoos @ohyoumakemelive @aka-a-shii @shinhiromi @wompwomphq @lollypop-lam @isentsworld @blue-melody @u-wakatoshii @moondriplets @lovinnoya @yuueisteria @humanitysbiggestsimp @cjphoenix135 @inarizaki-captain @closetfurrytsukishima @chibichab

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sckyie · 3 years

Text

hq last goodbye after a break-up

☛ includes: azumane asahi, tendou satori, kozume kenma

☛ warnings: angst

☛ pronouns: gender neutral

☛ a/n: uhm again idk how headcanons work but tendou made me teary eyed :(

『 AZUMANE ASAHI 』

one of the hardest things for him to do after you two broke things off

though your break-up was mutual, he couldn't really bear the thought of letting you go for real

he held so much love in your relationship, but in the end, the two of you grew apart as people and you couldn't handle trying to hold up something that wasn't moving anywhere

he himself didn't want the relationship to be one-sided and letting you go was the best option

it was a small brunch meeting where you wanted to say your goodbyes, the place you two had met, a cafe down the street of your old college

you sat quietly, sipping on a warm cup of coffee as you waited for your now ex-boyfriend. even though you wanted this break-up and this last goodbye, your nerves were shot through the roof. in truth, you never wanted you two to grow apart. asahi was the first man to help you understand the definition of love.

asahi was dreading the day to see you. it wasn't that he didn't want to see you, it was that he couldn't hold himself to meet you face to face. he knew that once he sees you again that he's going to want you back.

he approached the cafe and noticed you sitting outside at one of the tables. taking a deep breath, he approached the table. "y/n?" he asks.

"oh, hey azumane," you say. a sting in his chest rang after hearing his last name left your mouth.

"so, how are you?" he awkwardly smiled as he pulled his chair to sit.

"good...good..." you shied. "how are you?"

"i've been better, just stuck at work," he explained.

"hm, seems like normal," you chuckled softly. "so, i just wanted to give you something back...that's why i called you to meet."

"oh?" asahi's palms were sweating as you reached down for a large paper bag. wordlessly, you place it in front of him, anticipating his next words. he takes the bag, peeking inside to see his old sweater and some of his old shirts. he frowns slightly at the sight until he notices a small jewelry box. he picks up the small container, opening it to reveal the promise ring he gave you on your anniversary. "wait-"

"look i know you said to keep it but i can't without thinking about you," you say as you picked at your fingertips. "so you should keep it. you always told me-"

"so this is really it, huh?" asahi's voice was wary as he stared at the ring. "there's no second chance, no winning you back?"

a silence fell between you two as he picked the ring out of the box. your chest was aching at his words. as much as you wanted to take him back, you knew that it was for the better if you two were apart. asahi looked up from the piece of jewelry and noticed how glossy your eyes had gotten. "i'm sorry, i can't do this," you stood up to leave but asahi grabbed your wrist. "i wanted to tell you how much you meant to me and i wish you the best but- but- i can't. i'm sorry- i should go...thank you azumane..."

you broke out of his hold before jogging towards the nearest train station. and that was it, asahi was left alone with the promise ring still in his hands. tears rolled down his cheek as he gripped the ring. he held the sweater close, taking in your scent that lingered along the fabric.

『 TENDOU SATORI 』

he didn't mean to break your heart, truly he thought things would work out

the former middle blocker had believed long distance would work once he left to culinary school

before he could even leave, things between you two had gotten heated and you were frustrated, he was too but he said things that he wished he never said

"i'm sorry i'm chasing after my dream! unlike you! you're living the same life since high school!"

"you! you were my dream satori! you and i! having a family, growing old together! you! it was all you! god- i can't do this anymore!"

his apologies weren't doing any good to you, so for some closure, you went to see him before his flight

you gripped tightly on the ends of your sleeves as you walked around the airport looking for tendou. his flight wasn't for another hour but semi had told you that he was waiting by the gate early. searching for the flight to france on the list of gates, you heard a voice call you out.

"y/n?" tendou was shocked to even see you here. you turned around to face him. "w-what are you doing here?"

"i- i don't know," your voice was shaking. you cautiously approached him, leaving some space between you two. "i guess...i wanted to wish you the best..."

"y/n," he cooed. "your eyes are puffy...i'm sorry for what i said, i know i shouldn't have treated you like that."

"it's okay satori.." you breathed.

"do you think we can try long distance?" tendou was reaching for some kind of hope.

"i...i don't think so..." you knew that it wouldn't work with the time zones and work. you also knew that letting him go would let him succeed in his dream.

"mhm," tendou hummed. "y'know i still love you, right?"

"of course i know," you took a step closer. "i still love you too..."

tendou reaches out to you, pulling you into a hug. the comforting hug hurt, your heart was aching and tears began to dampen his jacket as he held you. "you'll do great things," tendou whispered. you could hear in his voice he was crying too.

you pulled away, looking at his now glassy eyes. "you too," you reached up, cupping his cheeks. as he held onto your waist, the intercom for his flight's check-in was now open. "oh...it's time..."

"i'm gonna miss you," tendou sniffled.

"me too..." you wiped your tears before tendou let go. you watched him begin to walk away, but something in you made you reach for his hands. "you didn't give me one last goodbye kiss."

tendou's eyes were welling up with tears once again as he let go of his luggage. he pulls you into his arms, connecting his lips with yours. you couldn't believe that this was the last time you'd be with him. you embraced his affection for those few moments before he slowly pulls away. he wipes away your tears before wordlessly letting go. who knew goodbyes would hurt this bad?

『 KOZUME KENMA 』

it was more of a right person, wrong time situation

you both loved each other as if you two were a married couple but it came to a point in your lives where it felt like you two were strangers

kenma knew you meant well when you brought up the idea of breaking up, he couldn't bear the thought of saying goodbye

you were his person, the one person he never wanted to let you go

today was the day you were finally moving away and you had to say your last farewell to him

you stood at the bottom of the stairs in front of his house waiting for kenma to come out to see you. he was dressed in sweats and his hair was messy once you saw him emerge from his front door. "hey," he says softly. his voice was raspy and you could tell he was crying.

"hi," you took a step forward, standing in front of him. "aw kenma, your hair." you tried to bring up his mood. you reached up, combing his hair with your fingers. he leaned into your touch, almost whining at the feeling.

"i'm sorry i didn't do better.." he said, pawing to hold you.

"it wasn't you," you reassured. "it just...wasn't our time yet."

"if it wasn't me, then why did you bring chub chubs," kenma pokes at the stuffed cat plush he gave you in your hands. you pull your hand away from his hair and petted the fluffy stuffed animal.

"because he deserves to be with his dad," you joked. though you were smiling, you could feel the pain sting as you reached out to give the toy to him.

kenma takes the soft cat into his hands and moves to cup it's cheeks. "your parent is divorcing me," he says to the stuffie. he squishes his cheeks before turning to you who was giggling at the sight. "fuck i'm gonna miss you."

he pulls you in with his right arm, holding you tightly. "i'm gonna miss you too." you wrapped your arms around him feeling the tears build up. "promise me you'll take care of yourself?" you mumbled into his chest.

"i promise as long as you do the same," kenma says.

"mhm," you hummed. kenma pulls away, still holding you in his arms, to admire you one last time. he dips down, planting a kiss on your forehead. "take care of chub chubs too, i slept with him every night when you didn't sleep over."

"come back for me too," kenma gives the plush a voice as he waves its little arms. you chuckled at him, looking up one last time at your now former partner. "i love you, i hope you know i always will."

taglist: @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @d0llpie @elianetsantana @snowsmuse @joy-laufeyson

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Distraction (Request)

This was a request for @sergeantsea, who asked:

Hi angel!! I was wondering if you could write something with the reader slow dancing w Sam? Maybe they have to pretend to be together to do a mission?

It was a total blast to write--SUCH a cute idea. I hope this is something like you were thinking.

Title: Distraction

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1673

Summary: A misstep during a case requires a distraction and some quick thinking.

Warnings: canon-appropriate threat of violence, mention of alcohol, fluffy fluff fluff, a little teaspoon of smut-adjacent action 😜

You tried to make the quick strides across the room look purposeful rather than frantic and resisted the urge to check over your shoulder for whether the pair had followed you across the bar. It had been stupid to try to eavesdrop without the pretense of another conversation to cover, and when the vampires had both looked up at the same time, you were sure you were done for.

“Look alive,” you hissed, grabbing Sam’s hand and yanking him up from the cracked leather stool he was leaning on. He had to stretch against your grip to rest his pool cue on the wall, giving an apologetic smile to the denim-clad guys he and Dean had been playing. Didn’t matter much, Dean could hustle the two of them by himself anyway.

“What’s going on?” Sam muttered, low and serious as he caught up, trailing just barely behind you so that the words played against the back of your neck, the delicate heat of them along your skin already easing some of the panic you had been feeling.

“I might’ve just gotten us made—don’t look,” you said with a smile you hoped would look flirtatious to a bystander, turning to curl a hand around the back of his neck as a safeguard to prevent his inevitable impulse to check it out.

“Uh, okay. What’s the plan?”

“Just two regular people in a regular bar doing some regular dancing.”

You could feel Sam’s neck tense under your palm.

“You know, I’m really not so good at—”

“Sorry, you’re going to have to pretend unless you’ve got a better option. Smile, please,” you said through the gritted teeth behind your put-on smile, and Sam gave a tight-lipped facsimile as the song shifted, Lionel Richie singing “know it sounds funny but I just can’t stand the pain,” smooth as silk even over the dive’s old speakers . You took Sam’s hand and set it on your hip before floating your free fingers behind his neck. He followed suit somewhat tentatively, holding you with big paws as carefully as if you were some antique Christmas ornament.

“Can I look yet?” he smiled down at you, grin only partly exasperated. You moved a misplaced lock of hair back to the right side of his loose part and tried not to flush at the way he deliberately closed his eyes while you did.

One of your hands traced down the collar of his flannel, resting on his lapel and closing a few more inches between your waists. “Sure. Stocky guy in blue and a blond guy with a goatee.”

Sam checked back from where you’d come under the pretense of tucking you under his chin. When he spoke it was like stepping into a hot shower, soothing warmth flowing over the crown of your head. “They’re definitely watching. You sure it’s only those two? They’re sitting with a bigger table and no one’s talking.”

“Fuck. How many?”

“Uh, how fast do you think you can get to the car?”

“That bad? Spin me, I wanna see.”

He obliged, slipping his hand into your lax grip on his neck and guiding your hips around a small spin that was just enough for you to see the overflowing booth the two had slid into, at least 7 or 8 angry-looking probably-vamps with eyes trained on you and Sam.

When you turned back toward him, an easy, cheeky grin spread over his face as Sam slid an arm to your lower back and interlaced the fingers of his other hand with yours. “I didn’t realize you were this much trouble. What’d you do, spit in their beer?”

“Very funny. Are they buying this?” You rested your palm on his shoulder, feeling the ripple of the muscles as his fingers spread out over your back.

Sam chuckled and you felt the vibration of his chest into your forearms, starting to feel like a competition cheerleader with the plastered-on smile. “Gimme a sec, I don’t want to look suspicious.” He started incrementally rotating the two of you and you knew it was tactical, so he could see both Dean and the booth. Didn’t really help you either way, field of vision pretty much entirely blocked by the broad span of Sam’s chest. Knowing that he was trying to better his position signaled to you to get ready, and you held a deep breath in an effort to calm your racing heartbeat. He leaned back a touch. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just such a fucking rookie move, I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t sweat it. If it’s a rookie move, I must be a rookie too. And usually the warning Dean gives me for shit like this is yelling for me 6 punches in.”

You snickered a little into the flannel of his shirt despite yourself. “Thanks.”

The two of you swayed together through a chorus. “Come on Dean, you idiot, look up,” Sam murmured to himself. Dean was lining up a shot he could hit backwards with his eyes closed like he needed laser precision, blissful ignorance allowing him to concentrate only on hustling the guys he was playing for a couple hundred bucks and not the imminent danger. A few people got up from the booth and began making their way across the bar. You could see them in your peripheral vision and knew even if Dean miraculously glanced up now and got with the program lightning-fast you’d be in trouble based on sheer numbers alone.

“You trust me?” he asked fervently.

“Yeah, of course I—” you stammered, immediately cut off by the plush crash of Sam’s lips into yours, the deepened pressure of his hand sealing your torsos together. After the briefest stunned moment you got the picture, kissing Sam back cautiously. You let him pull you closer, relaxed into his arms and dragged the hand you had on his shoulder down to gently hold onto his lapel, feeling a little dizzy even through the relative chasteness of the kiss. He disentangled his fingers from yours and slid them to your neck, the tiny chill of each of his wintry fingertips sending goosebumps down your spine as he cradled your head. Hands on his collar, you didn’t even think to stop yourself when you wrapped the flannel up, pure instinct driving your motion. Sam wound through the hair at the back of your neck and those instincts betrayed you again, nipping at his bottom lip on reflex and slipping your tongue into his mouth, somehow sweet over the cheap beer you’d all been drinking throughout the night—perfect—and Sam was much less nervous than you would’ve thought when he took a sharp inhale in surprise but didn’t back down, met your escalation as readily as he supported your weight against him.

And then you were well and truly in it, Sam’s hand hitching up the back of your tee as he reached for a better grip on you, your grabbing at his shirt popping open a button so you could feel the impossible heat off his chest and get towed under by it like a current, like a magnetic field, and you couldn’t stop, needed more and more, mind a fuchsia cloud of want totally void of intelligent thought or awareness of your surroundings even as you had been so panicked minutes before.

The spell was broken by a wolf whistle from one of Dean’s opponents, and you broke apart with a lascivious pop of suction. Inches from you, Sam’s eyes were half lidded and kissed stupid, the pink of his lips feathered out to match the flush in his cheeks. You glanced toward the pool table to find the almost-hustled men leering at you and Sam from where they stood next to Dean, whose face had landed exactly halfway between stunned and disbelieving.

Addressing his brother, Sam cleared his throat and breathed, “We were just—” looking back toward where the crew had been closing in and finding nothing, the group now playing some rowdy game and crawling all over each other to stay in the booth, not paying any attention to you or Sam. “We were, uh, just—” he tried again, still at a loss for words.

“Get a room,” Dean teased, play-nauseated, eyebrows twisted so far up on his forehead you were surprised they weren’t pushing his hair back.

“No, it wasn’t—”

“In front of God and everybody,” he continued, roguish twinkle overcoming the surprise in his eyes. You could feel the heat rising in your face and hastily stepped back from Sam, yanking your shirt down the few inches it had risen. Sam seemed not to notice his open buttons as he froze, still facing Dean. “By all means, don’t let us stop you.” He supported his weight on his pool cue, face as clear a challenge as anything.

Sam ruffled the back of his hair sheepishly and took the ribbing with tightened lips. “Yeah, okay. Ha-ha.”

“I’m going to, uh, grab another beer. Do you want one?” you asked Sam quietly, hoping Dean and the pool players might lose interest.

“Sure, yeah. I—ah, I’m gonna—” he stuttered, face screwing up in a silent, bashful “help me?” smile while his shoulders bunched around his neck. You started to giggle, nerves finally catching up to you, and bit your lip to hold your smile together.

“Go finish your game?”

Sam chuckled and nodded, looking at his feet.

You took a deep breath. “Um, thanks for saving me back there. I won’t make the same mistake again, I promise.”

He flicked his gaze up, grin split open at the side to show a few teeth as he ran his tongue over his molars, framed by an impossibly sliced dimple. “I—ah, I wouldn’t mind if you made that mistake again.”

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass @vxnderlindes @deanwinchesterswitch @akshi8278 @itsjensenanddean @flannellover67 @weepingwillowphoenix @tj-drinks-tea @whatareyousearchingfordean @winchestergirl2 @winchest09 @samwisethegr8 @fawnxng @nurse-sarahrn @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love @thewinchesterandreidwhore @deanwanddamons @stressedoutkitten @winchestershiresauce @tatted-trina6 @percico-heronstairs @downanddirtydean @queenoftheunderdark @lyarr24 @wonder-cole @sergeantsea

And as always, if you want to be on my taglist, were on the taglist and changed your handle, or I lost track of it, please let me know!

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sirius · 4 years

Text

Heatwave (The Mandalorian x Reader) SMUT

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, rough sex, light choking, dom/sub (Mandalorian dom, Reader sub)

Word count: 🤷🏽‍♀️

Summary: You’re a thief with sexy fire powers. He’s a sexy bounty hunter who you’ve been playing cat and mouse with. When he catches you, Baby Yoda decides to play match-maker. It works. For once.

A/N: I found this baby after scrolling through my notes and had to post it. I wrote this when I was drunk so forgive the spelling errors. Baby Yoda is literally that one criminal dude from tangled (I think?) who bangs the two tiny wooden horses together. lol.

Also, am I wrong in saying that I think everyone wants to fuck the Mandalorian in his sexy Mandalorian armour?

(Not my gif)

***

You can’t deny that there’s something sexy about being handcuffed and taken prisoner by the Mandalorian.

While inconvenient to say the least, there’s still an undercurrent of sexual tension that demands to be felt, charging the air between the two of you as he straps you into the seat beside him. It’s why he always chases you, why you always allow yourself to get caught, and why he lets you escape into the night. It’s the longest, most amusing, most sexy game of chess you’ve ever played.

“Every time you handcuff me, I always imagine it in an entirely different context,” you purr, smirking up at him as he tightens your handcuffs.

As usual, he doesn’t say anything at first. Its becoming all too predictable.

The fancy, expensive, definitely-not-a-sex-toy handcuffs dig into the skin of your wrists, though not enough to make it arousing. He’s done it deliberately; he’s surmised you like it rough from your previous encounters with him. It’s a type of torture he’s managed to master exceedingly well. Which is arousing in itself. What a paradox the two of you are.

“Jokes on you, y’know,” you tease, tilting your head up at him, “I’m very much into the idea of you torturing me.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he warns, his voice tinny and deliciously husky.

“So he speaks.”

The Mandalorian remains silent, though you can somehow tell he’s glaring at you from behind his helmet.

“You’re not the first Mandalorian to come after me,” you say as he kneels to bind your ankles, “And you won’t be the last. I’ve killed your predecessors and I won’t hesitate to kill whoever they decide to send after you. You’re lucky I’m into you otherwise I’d have my legs around your neck right now — and not in a good way.”

The Mandalorian is silent at first. Then, when you think he isn’t going to grace you with a response—

“So you’re just going to keep running? What kind of life is that?”

You chew your bottom lip, considering his question thoughtfully, “It’s a life and it’s far better than the alternative.”

The Mandalorian rises, straightens the broad line of his shoulders, “Is it really a life? If you can’t settle down to enjoy it?”

You gracefully arch an eyebrow at him, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mandalorian.”

He doesn’t say anything after that.

****

The strange, tiny child gazes up at you with large, innocent inky-black eyes and blinks owlishly.

He’s managed to scramble into your lap, blocking your means of escape while the Mandalorian hastily fixes the engine of his ship. You can’t help but smile at his innocence, contrasting the weight of your criminal ways.

Regardless, you focus on funnelling the spluttering ball of energy in your core to your ankle cuffs. The heated metal bites into your skin as it begins to glow bright orange, but you can take it. You’re one of the last Phoenixs — or Nixes, for short — in the universe; cosmic fire and heat is what you are, what you’re made of.

The child, however, doesn’t seem afraid of the heat rising from your skin, turning your hair a bright, fiery red.

“Look, little guy — or girl — I need you to get off my lap so I can bust out of here!” You hiss, imploringly, “My distraction will only last so lo—“

The Mandalorian’s heavy footsteps echo into the cockpit of his ship. You immediately stop melting the metal, allowing your natural hair colour to bleed over the reds and oranges, disguising your true heritage.

He stops, spotting the child now stroking your hair.

“He’s cute,” you remark, beaming down at the child, “Didn’t realise you had a kid.”

The Mandalorian marches forward and snatches the child from your lap. He cradles him protectively, eying you with what you suspect is suspicion as he safely places the child on the far side of the room.

“Don’t touch him.”

“He was touching me first.”

“I don’t care, don’t touch him.”

“My god, you’d think I’m infected with some hideous, flesh-eating disease.”

“No, you’re a criminal—“

“—Thief—“

“—you’re a criminal and I don’t trust you.”

Something about that stings. Your expression shutters, schooling into apathy.

“So why keep me around?” You ask, coolly, “Why don’t you just carbon freeze me?”

You have a feeling you know the answer. He doesn’t carbon freeze you for the same reason why he doesn’t bother stopping you as you escape the slippery clutches of the ego-bruised men you’ve stolen from. It’s the same reason you haven’t burned him to a crisp as soon as you’ve seen him, the same reason you allow him to drag you back to his ship, cash you in for his bounty, and disappear.

There’s tension, but it’s more than tension. It’s something you can’t articulate because you’ve never quite felt it before. You doubt he has either.

The Mandalorian doesn’t answer. He seems to be staring down at the ankle cuffs, the metal twisted and deformed from where you’ve been heating it. He steps forward—

Suddenly, an invisible force loop around your waist and hoists you up, pulling you toward The Mandalorian. His arms are forced around your waist in jerky movements almost like an invisible puppeteer is pushing and plucking the strings. His helmet is yanked up over his neck, past his chin, stopping just above his nose, revealing plush lips and stubble and—

Your lips are forced together in the most awkward kiss you’ve ever had.

Both of you have your lips pressed tight, and the Mandalorian is rigid and tense, unsure of what to do. Still, energy blinks to life inside of you and you open your mouth just a little, embracing the kiss.

It lingers. It’s still awkward.

But then, he begins to kiss you back, his lips moving slightly, carefully, enough to taste hints of fine whiskey and your head begins to spin, embers sparking your lower belly, travelling up your spine, across your chest, down your arms—

It ends all too soon.

“Stop it, let us go,” The Mandalorian orders over his shoulder. You allow your eyes to follow his line of sight, snagging on the kid.

His tiny, pudgy hand is raised, his round eyes closed and you realise with a shock that he’s controlling you, bending the air around you both and forcing you into this kiss.

At the sound of his voice, the child stops, releasing his hold on you. He staggers a little, exhaustion seemingly crashing over him, dragging him under into unconsciousness. He collapses and the Mandalorian rushes forward to catch him, holding the child to his chest.

The Mandalorian disappears for a moment, giving you time to recover from your bewilderment. You’ve never seen anything quite like that before, and you’ve seen a lot of things. You have a feeling that in your past life, you may have witnessed a similar phenomenon, but you’re not giving enough time to dwell on it, however, because the Mandalorian comes storming back.

“So, you gonna tell me what that was all about?”

The Mandalorian ignores you, hunting around the cockpit for something.

“You’re not going to make me beg, are you?”

The Mandalorian stops, slants a look over his shoulder, “Maybe I will.”

You roll your eyes, “Please, Mando. Please tell me what the fuck just happened.”

The Mandalorian grasps a black bandage and whips it, stalking toward you, “Not what I meant.”

“What—?”

“—I’m sick of chasing you,” he growls, manoeuvring you around so he can fasten the bandage around your head; a makeshift blindfold, “It’s time you got what you deserve.”

Your stomach curdles, blood roaring in your ears. Carbon freezing. Your worst fear. You try to swallow, but it gets knotted somewhere in your throat.

“Kinky,” you rasp, trying your best to recover your slipping facade, “I hope my punishment involves whips and chains.”

The Mandalorians voice is in the shell of your ear, Mississippi hot and molasses thick, “Oh, you have no idea.”

Suddenly, he spins you around, and you barely have time to recover from the whiplash before his lips are on yours.

He’s ferocious, unforgiving. Just the way you like it.

He kisses you with a fiery passion, tongue darting into your mouth, tasting, teasing, his teeth digging into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. You moan, arching against him, wishing he’d free you so you could tug him closer but the Mandalorian keeps you bound and at his mercy.

You pull away, panting, as the Mandalorian trails kisses down your neck, sucking and biting and bruising the tender flesh. He’s obviously taken his helmet off while you were blindfolded. Curiosity strikes you but is dissolved when he finds the spot on your neck that makes you gasp.

“If—if I had known this would happen, I would’ve allowed myself to get caught a lot sooner,” you tease, a little breathlessly.

The Mandalorians fingers grasp your waist, pulling you closer, gripping you with bruising strength that dampens your panties. He chuckles against your skin, breath hot, tongue wet as he licks along your jugular.

“God I hate that mouth of yours,” he breathes, scraping his teeth across your skin, “It gets you into so much trouble.”

“It’s good for other things, too.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he grasps your waist with strong hands and spins you around, breath fanning across the back of your neck.

Your spine shudders and melts. He makes quick work of your clothes, starting with your sleeveless turtleneck top. He pulls it over your head and tosses it aside and unclasping your bra. With one hand pawing at your breast, he uses the other to tug on the zip of your skirt, pulling it down until the fabric pools at your feet. He helps you out of your thigh-high boots and undoes the holsters strapped to your thigh. Next, he uncuffs your wrists and ankles until you’re wearing nothing but skin. His breath audibly tangles in his throat.

You snicker, biting your bottom lip, “My, my. Have I rendered the great Mandalorian speechless?”

A sharp stab of pain ripples across your ass cheek, followed by the rough ministrations of a strong, calloused hand. You gasp, relishing in the sting of pain and burst of arousal.

You moan. Your darkest fantasies have spilt from your daydreams and splashed themselves against the backdrop of reality. Finally, after three years of chasing and catching, the sexual tension sizzling between the two of you is resolved.

He steals the breath from your lungs as he kisses you deeply, your moans melting on his tongue. His fingers grip your breasts and you gasp, head lulling back as he rolls them in the palm of his hands.

“God,” you sigh, “You’re good at this.”

Suddenly, his lips are biting into your nipple and you arch into his mouth, fingers combing through his hair as he slurps and sucks on your nipple. Your thighs quiver as you tug on the roots of his hair and he groans. You can feel him poking into your thigh and your excitement builds quickly, your fingers pulling at his cape.

He steps away from your grasp with a low, drawling chuckle, rich with husk and desire and pure sex appeal.

“I’m in control,” he snarls, “You obey me. You hear?”

“Yes, master,” you whimper, skin crawling.

“Good.”

You hear the rasping of fabric and the whirr of zipper teeth being pulled apart. His footsteps, heavy with purpose, move around you; there's a clang of metal and then he’s behind you again, loosening your blindfold until it falls away.

The Mandalorian whirls you around, pushing you up against the control board. He’s still fully clothed and his helmet is now fixed onto his neck and while you had been curious about the face that hides behind that helmet, you can’t deny that the thought of him fucking you in his bounty armour is unbelievably sexy.

The only thing that’s missing is — of course — the codpiece. Your shiver completely rattles your entire frame, anticipation bubbling deliciously in your veins.

The Mandalorian steps forward and reaches into his pants, pulling out his cock.

You salivate.

He’s...huge. Probably the biggest and thickest cock you’ve seen (and you’ve seen a lot in your lifetime — part of the job). It makes you wonder how he jams that beast into his pants without damaging something. You slide your tongue over your lips as you watch him stroke himself, smearing precum over the bulging, purple helmet.

“Touch yourself.”

You obey, spreading your legs far apart so he can watch your fingers dance. Behind his mask, you can feel his eyes smouldering as you tease your clit, rubbing the pearl of nerves with your index and middle finger. You moan, tossing your head back, building up quite the rhythm while the Mandalorian watches.

You startled slightly when the Mandalorian runs his hands over your smooth thighs, mapping you out with his fingers. He’s gentle, appreciating the warmth of your skin, how you glow with desire and emit a natural, golden aura common among Nixes.

“It’s been a while since...” he trails off, shaking his head.

With a sudden burst of strength, he grips your legs and hoists them around his waist. And, impatiently, unceremoniously, he slides inside of you.

“Fuck,” you curse, gripping his broad shoulders.

Moans spill into the air as the Mandalorian begins to move, rolling his hips against you. The cool metal of his armour shocks your hot skin but the contrast of steaming heat and icy cold makes your eyes roll back and your heart hammer impossibly fast.

“Yes, yes, oh Jesus yes!”

The Mandalorian’s pace begins to build as he slams into you. He’s rough and unapologetic and reaching depths inside of you that you didn’t know existed. He pounded with frenzied, sharp movements, his hand snaking up your side to your neck where his fingers hugged and tightened. His other hand stays secured on your hip, bruised already starting to form from where his grip burns into you.

Your fingers skim across your damp skin, trailing down to your clit where your fingers circle and pinch. The Mandalorian — silent until now — groans as he watches you, his pace speeding up ruthlessly.

“I’m close,” he grunts, giving your neck a squeeze.

“So am I,” you hiss, locking your legs around him.

The friction of his armour against your hot skin, the pressure of his strong hand gripping your begging neck, his cock ploughing into you with incredible strength; it’s an overwhelming indulgence to the senses and you feel your hot core begin to glow, crackling with cosmic energy.

The air, thick with sex and insatiable heat, shimmers and ignites with tiny tongues of fire like hovering fireflies. The Mandalorian hasn’t noticed yet, but it doesn’t take him long until he does.

“(Y/N)––“

He’s cut off by the cry that issues from your swollen lips. Your pussy clenches and quivers around his cock as you tumble over the edge, crashing into a release that completely drowns your body in mind-numbing pleasure. The Mandalorian is right behind you, grinding out pieces of your name as he meets his own release.

Panting, you sit up and he rests his head on your shoulder. Around you, the small flames have exploded into tiny fireworks, lighting up the air with vibrant light.

You slide off the control board, climb back into your clothes and pull on your boot. You reach for the other boot but the Mandalorian grabs it first, kneeling to slide the boot onto your foot. You watch, mesmerised, as he pulls the inner zip up your leg and along your thigh.

Moments later, the electronic doors to the cockpit slide open and the child waddles forward, gazing innocently up at you. You step forward and give the Mandalorian a questioning look. He nods.

You bend down and scoop the child into your arms and he snuggles against your chest.

“I really love this kid,” you murmur, beaming down at him.

“Yeah, he’s alright,” The Mandalorian shrugs, approaching you so he can tug at the child’s cloak. He pulls it over the child’s face, keeping his neck warm.

“We have to name him,” you decide, “I can’t keep referring to him as the kid.”

You say it like you’re staying with them, trapesing across the universe together.

The Mandalorian, however, doesn’t disagree.

The handcuffs and ankle cuffs stay in their place on the floor.

#the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #baby yoda #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian imagines #smut #star wars imagine #mandalorian #dad!mandalorian #dom/sub #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian spoilers #star wars smut #star wars fluff #georgie writes

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bwemph · 4 years

Text

When Now Gets Here

Pairing: Aramis x Reader

Summary: It’s been four years since you said goobye to Aramis, and moving on has been difficult. In the midst of a fast-paced and busy time at the orphanage, you meet again.

Word count: 2,200

Warnings: Fluff, implied smut

A/N: This is a fic from my old blog Purpleocity. All future fics will be posted here at bwemph :)

You smoothed the wool blanket you had just set in the bottom of your basket, smiling as Constance came around the corner with some vegetables and a small container of flour.

You breathed a sigh of relief, running a hand through your hair. “Thank you, Constance. You have no idea how much of a struggle it’s been to handle all the newcomers in the orphanage. And practically all the children are coming down with a sore throat and a cough. It’s been a nightmare.”

“It’s not the whooping cough, is it?” she asked, concern furrowing her brow. You shook your head, making Constance relax a little. “No, thankfully. Just a cold.” You held out the basket as she set in a few more things. She turned to a cupboard and retrieved a small jar.

“Here, take some honey to soothe their throats. Mix it with some peppermint tea and it works wonders.”

You smiled, closing and setting the basket aside for a moment. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” Constance shrugged with a humbled smile. You absentmindedly rubbed your forearm. “Any word from D’Artagnan?”

She shook her head. “I received a letter from him last week, but nothing since.” She waved the matter off. “What about you? Have you caught the eye of any dashing young men?”

You gave a breathless laugh. “Not yet. Well, actually–” You pursed your lips with a sigh, looking over Constance’s shoulder for a moment. “That’s a lie. A few have made advances, but,” you broke eye contact again, casting a glance at your feet, “I still haven’t really let go, you know?”

“I can imagine.” With an empathetic frown, Constance reached out and rubbed your arm, a comforting gesture.

You smiled a little, picking up your basket. “Don’t worry about it. Someone will show up sooner or later. Besides, with all the new children I’d hardly have any time to worry about a man.” You looked down at the basket which had been packed full of goods. “Thank you again, Constance. I wouldn’t be able to manage if it weren’t for you. Thank you so much.”

She gave your hand a little squeeze. “You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I will.”

“I mean anything, Y/n. I’m here for you.”

You nodded, your lips curling graciously. “I’ll probably turn up again soon.” “I look forward to it.” You hurried back to the orphanage before the sun had set, as it was already sinking on the horizon and you did not want to be caught on the streets alone at night. You opened and closed the orphanage door quietly in the event that any little ones were sleeping already. You glanced around in search of Catherine, the woman you ran the orphanage with and your closest friend, but you furrowed your brow when your comrade was nowhere to be found.

“Catherine?” you called out, setting the basket on a countertop.

A curly haired child came bouncing up, a smile lighting up her eyes. She clutched a small plush creature with long, carefully stitched ears that flopped to and fro as she approached you.

“What have you got, Marie?” you asked. You crouched down to the child’s eye level as she showed off her new toy.

“It’s a rabbit! The nuns came to visit and brought us toys!” She examined the rag doll and smiled brightly before hugging it close.

You smiled. “That was very kind of them. Did you say thank you?”

She nodded with a shy grin. “Yes.”

You ruffled the child’s hair. “Good girl. Does your rabbit have a name?”

She shook her head.

“He doesn’t have a name? Well he must have a name!” you exclaimed with a gentle surprise. You settled on the ground in the midst of a few scattered figurines and spinning tops, which were at rest now.

Marie shrugged. “I don’t know what to call him.” She examined the bunny again, smoothing its ear as she sat next to you.

You hummed. “Well, what are your favorite things about him?” Marie thought for a bit, giving the toy a gentle squeeze. “He’s nice, and he’s soft…and he’s fluffy.”

“What if you name him Fluffy?”

Marie thought long and hard about the title, nodding with approval as a grin grew on her face. “Okay!”

You gently shook the rabbit’s paw. “Hello, Monsieur Fluffy.”

Marie smiled brightly, hugging Fluffy close to her chest. A set of footsteps descended down the stairs. You glanced up as Catherine smiled at Marie, who was now introducing her rabbit to a wooden horse figurine.

“There you are,” you said, “I was beginning to wonder where you’d gone off to.” Catherine shrugged. “Just upstairs.” She seemed to fight back a smile. “Have you seen that book?”

“Which book?”

Catherine cleared her throat. “The one I lent you the other night.”

You thought for a moment, your mind running back through the week. You nodded when you recalled which book you had borrowed from your friend. “Oh, yes, it’s up in my room.”

“Would you mind getting it for me?”

You furrowed your brow and tilted your head a little. “Can’t you?”

Catherine hesitated, scooping up Antoine, the nearest child who was small enough to pick up. “Don’t you see I have my hands full at the moment?” Antoine looked about as confused as you did. “Catherine,” you stood, “what’s going on?”

“Just go upstairs, Y/n. I promise you won’t regret it.” Catherine winked, setting Antoine down. He scurried over to play with the spinning top.

Hesitantly, you ascended the stairs, glancing over your shoulder at Catherine, who grinned brightly. The staircase creaked as you reached the top. There was a moment of hesitation where you listened to a similar groan of the floorboards in your room before you opened the door. You were startled first, but utterly confused at the man sitting on the chest at the foot of your bed.

He flipped through a book, the one Catherine had lent you, in fact. He looked up at you and set it aside, standing and removing his hat. He lingered at the foot of your bed almost nervously.

“Aramis,” you breathed, first taking a few hesitant steps forward, then running up and throwing your arms around him.

He laughed. “Hello, darling.”

You squeezed him tightly and buried your face in his shoulder and breathed in the familiar smell of his leather coat. He wrapped his arms around your waist and embraced you. Silence hung in the air, but it was a sweet silence. Content filled both your hearts, joy radiating from either of your faces. He pulled away, but his hands remained on your waist as not to let you stray too far.

“What are you doing here?” You ran your hand down his arm and back up, a smile forming on your lips.

“The monk life didn’t suit me.”

You laughed softly, mirroring his chuckle. “I can see that.” You hugged him tightly again in an effort to assure yourself that he was truly here. “You look better in leather anyway.” You felt his arms firm around your waist and his warm breath against your ear as he chuckled.

“I missed you,” he murmured with a soft peck to your cheek.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “I missed you too.”

He pulled back, his hand on the side of your face and his thumb gently stroking your cheek. He leaned in slowly, almost cautiously. You didn’t hesitate to close the remaining space between you. You sealed your lips enthusiastically to his, hands on either side of his face.

A familiar shot of adrenaline made your heart flutter at having Aramis so close. You practically melted into the kiss as he pressed himself to you in order to bring you closer if possible.

You broke away from each other, your hands wrapped in Aramis’s. You smiled brightly.

“Are you here to stay?”

He smiled. “I believe so.”

“Good.” You hugged him again, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. “I’d hate to see you leave again.”

He kissed your temple. “I won’t.” He rested his chin on top of your head. “I promise.”

You soaked up his embrace, taking his hand. “I wasn’t the only one who missed you. The children asked about you all the time after you left.”

“Aw, I’m flattered.” He winked. “I saw Marie. She’s grown so much,” Aramis observed with a fond look in his eye. He caressed your cheek.

You nodded. “She probably doesn’t even remember you,” you laughed. He smirked. “What a shame, I’m usually so memorable.”

You giggled, curling your fingers into the collar of his shirt and tugging him forward. You stopped just short of his lips. “I’ll say.”

“I do have a sort of charisma about me, don’t I?” he coaxed, eyes flickering to your lips. He eyed them hungrily.

You bit your lower lip, almost as if you were trying to further entice him. “Show me.” Next thing you knew, you were collapsed on the bed with Aramis hovering above you as you exchanged insatiate and sloppy kisses. Clothing was gone somewhere in between locking the door, crawling under the bedsheets and the fervency of your lips being sealed together impatiently.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he murmured between kisses, “I may be a bit rusty after four years.”

You laughed softly. “I doubt it.”

He kissed you again. The world melted away and all you felt were each other. A mixture of emotions and sensations rushed over the pair of you while things slowly escalated. The next moments, although fleeting, were worth the long wait, and wouldn’t soon be forgotten.

You rested your head on Aramis’s chest, your eyelids drooping slightly. He ran his fingertips along your arm, leaving tingles in their wake. You shifted a little, listening to his steady heartbeat.

“Well, you haven’t lost your touch.” You sighed, tracing one of the many scars on his chest.

He sighed as well, letting his hand rest at your shoulder, gripping it gently. “Neither have you, my dear,” he purred. You felt butterflies in your stomach as you let your eyes droop shut.

You synced your breathing with Aramis’s, but opened your eyes and pursed your lips as a feeling of subtle anxiety hit you. “What now?”

“‘What now’?” He hummed shortly as he thought. “We’re together again. We’ll figure out ‘what now’ when now gets here.”

Despite his comforting words, you still felt an unease rising in your chest. “No, I mean it’s been four years, Aramis.” You stopped tracing the scar for a moment, your finger still pressed gingerly to his chest. “Something has to have changed.”

He folded his arm under his head, his other hand remained on your shoulder. “Well I’ve spent those four years in a monastery with only children and old men, so hopefully that tells you how much change I’ve encountered.” He chuckled softly at himself, but something in him shifted. “Unless you’re saying something’s changed for you.” He evaded your eyes. “You moved on, didn’t you?”

“No,” you were quick to respond as you propped yourself up on an elbow to look him in the eye, “no, Aramis, how could I?” You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you. I love you so much. I didn’t think I would be able to let go.” You pressed another soft kiss to his lips, your hand going to his cheek. Hope sparked behind his eyes, a small smile forming on his lips. “Well then nothing’s changed, and it doesn’t have to.”

You bit your lip. “So we’ll just pick up where we left off?”

Aramis shrugged. “We’ll consider the last four years a detour.”

You smiled, kissing him yet again. “Deal.” You settled next to him, rolling on your side to face him. He mirrored your example. You noted his drooping eyelids and caressed his cheek, moving aside some stray hairs in the same movement. “You look tired.”

He closed his eyes and gave a small nod. “I am. It’s been a hell of a day.”

You ran your hand down his arm to lace your fingers with his. “Rest.”

He cracked an eye open, smiling a little. “Only if you do.” He pulled you closer with a peck to your forehead.

You sighed. “I have to go help get the children ready for bed,” you said as you began to push yourself from the bed.

His hand went to your waist in an instant. He locked eyes with you and grinned a little. “Catherine said you’d say that.” Aramis tugged you to move close to him again. “She also said to tell you she’s got it handled.”

You smiled at Catherine’s thoughtfulness. You snuggled up to Aramis’s chest, and he draped his arm over you. “I owe her one.”

He nuzzled your forehead. “Worry about it later.” He ran his hand slowly up and down your back. A pleasant silence lingered for a moment. “I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you too.”

“So, so much,” he finished for you.

A drowsy giggle slipped past your lips, your eyes closing again. “Yes.”

#Aramis #Aramis x reader #bbc musketeers #the musketeers #athos #d'artagnan #porthos #fanfiction #reader insert

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sassykittynoir · 4 years

Text

The Fashion Rebellion of Adrien Agreste || Part I

Pairing: Adrinette (Marinette Dupain-Cheng x Adrien Agreste) Warnings: Mention of alcohol consumption. Words Count: 1,8k words.

A/N: I would like to say a huge thanks to my dear friend @smileytrinity for her infinite patience and help and support, as well as @helgabatwrittings who motivated me to write this. @miraculouslyinloveagain, @sparklesfriend4700-blog I hope you’ll enjoy this Adrinette. Well, I hope everyone does. <3

His plan was devious. If Plagg's giggles were any indication, Adrien would say he had crossed the line between mischief and Machiavellian by a long shot... alright, maybe it was an overstatement.

"What you’re doing is more dabbling into little shit territory than being an evil menace.” Plagg drawled over his shoulders, only to shrug in disinterest when Adrien remarked that Plagg's barometer was skewed when it came to chaos and mischief.

Evil misdoings or shenanigans, Adrien couldn't bring himself to care or feel an ounce of guilt. After all, a taste of his own medicine wouldn't kill his father.

The whole thing had started a few months ago. He didn't know how such an innocent idea had gotten so out of hand. But, could anyone blame him for wanting to get back at his father when his actions were marred by his malicious intent?

Adrien had once believed his father was an overprotective parent, but, as the years went by, gone was the blind trust he had placed in the adults of his life. The Lucid maturity replaced the juvenile naivety. The perfect family facade had long since shattered, a cold truth seeping inches by inches in its cracks.

The idea blossomed into a fully-fledged plot almost overnight. Mere hours after his father — well Nathalie — had informed Adrien that he couldn't attend Marinette's picnic because his schedule had been modified to accommodate a last minute photoshoot. He had been so irritated that —

“ — I really want to get back at him.” Adrien hissed, plopping down on Chloe's bed. He felt bad for the glare he directed at Mr.cuddly. The poor bear didn't deserve it.

“I’m not going to pretend I understand why you want to attend this dwee — Marinette’s” — Chloe relented at Adrien’s pointed look — “Marinette’s picnic.” Chloe rolled her eyes in disdain, applying the finishing touch to her makeup: a glittery peach lip gloss. ”But this is utterly ridiculous. You're eighteen! You should have the freedom to go wherever you want to. You’ll have wrinkles if you keep frowning like that.”

Adrien couldn't help the small huff of amusement falling past his lips. He took a deep breath in order to calm down. The last thing he needed was to be akumatized before the charity gala he was attending even began. At least Chloe — whom he considered his sister — would be attending as well.

“I have the perfect solution!” Chloe wiped out her phone, typing furiously until she reached the homepage of Versace’s online shop. “Retail therapy helps wonder. Care to put a dent in daddy dearest’s fortune?” She turned to face Adrien a grin on her face, the skirt of her haute couture dress swirling in a flurry of sequined organza.

“You know he doesn't care about my shopping sprees, Chlo. I wouldn't have a climbing wall in my bed room if he did.” Adrien sighed suddenly deflated and laid his cheek atop of Mr. Cuddly’s head. He did give the best cuddles.

Chloe’s only answer was an noncommittal hum and joined Adrien’s on the bed. In an uncharacteristic gesture of comfort, she rested her hand on Adrien’s thigh “Do you know what he cares about? Your pretty face.”

“Go on.” He encouraged, cocking one eyebrow up in interest, mood perking up.

“What could make a designer angrier than seeing the face of his brand, his ambassador, publicly endorsing another brand?”

Adrien could have kissed Chloe in sheer gratitude. “Chloe, you're a genius!”

“Yeah, I know. I'm just misunderstood.” she scoffed, one hand twirling a curl of hair framing her face.

—

“We don't have all night! Post it or don't, but make your decision. All this hesitation is ruining my appetite.” Plagg whined. How he could manage to sound so childish yet so disdainful at the same time was beyond Adrien’s understanding. Yet, the kwami had no trouble accomplishing such feat while sitting on Adrien’s shoulders, a slice of Camembert between his paws.

“Thanks for the moral support.” Adrien muttered. So what if he had been sprawled on his bed for the past hour, phone in hands debating whether he should be posting the video or not. To be petty, or not to be? That was the question. An existential question, one might add, as his finger hovered the share button on his screen. Teeth worrying his bottom lip. Should he really listen to the little devil on his shoulders? Should he even consider his opinion when his brain was still muddled? He had too many cocktails, tonight.

“You’re thinking too loudly.” Plagg complained, words stretching around a yawn. “There!” he hissed, flying over Adrien’s shoulders to press share. “I posted it for you. It’ll teach your old man a lesson.”

“Plagg!!” Adrien whispered, venom lacing his tone. “I can’t believe you did that! Two minutes in the drawer of shame!” He spat, opening the top drawer of his nightstand.

An indignant scoff bubbled out the kwami’s throat. He titled his chin up in defiance as he plopped down on the plush pillows installed in the drawer of shame. “Just so you know, I’m going there on my own volition. A drawer full of silk pillows is hardly what I call a punishment.” he declared, petulant.

“For someone who is supposed to be offended, you're certainly not eager to delete the video.” Plagg delivered the coup de grace in a disconcerting nonchalance, before eating his slice of cheese. As frustrated as Adrien was with Plagg, he had to admit, the idea had not crossed his mind once.

“I'm deleting it now.” Adrien declared just because he could, yet he made no effort to move.

"Huh huh. Sure you will!" Plagg retorted back. It took Adrien all the force he could muster not to dignify the tiny cat with an answer. He would be the better person.

—

It had taken 8 hours of beauty sleep, for Adrien to wrap his head around the fact that he posted such a video of himself. He almost regretted his decision not to delete it upon waking up. Almost, but his head was pounding and he was never drinking alcohol ever again. After all, he did post, on Instagram, a 1:06 minutes long video of himself — two dry martinis away from drunkenness — singing along, no, belting along the lyrics ”Versace On the Floor” by Bruno Mars featuring Chloe’s judging looks, just to get back at his father. And yet, Adrien couldn't fight the feeling of satisfaction surging through his body when he noticed that #Versace was trending on all social media.

The video going viral in a matter of hours? Expected. Fans sliding into his DMs?Anticipated. Nino freaking out over texts? Typical.

What he hadn't counted on, however, was his video being broadcast on TV. Adrien watched with stupor as a journalist reported — with supporting images — how crowds of fan girls were waiting in queues outside of Versace’s boutiques to buy a dress. “Versace sales skyrocket after model video goes viral” read the words in bold yellow letters. He chocked on his eggs Benedict, eyes watering as he forced the food down his throat.

“Oh, I’m was screwed. Father is going to kill me.” Adrien whispered to himself, voice barely audible over Plagg’s laughter.

—

”Dude you decided to kill the internet overnight? Were you drunk? Are you sure your old man isn’t going to kill you? You were on the news! The news, bro! -- every girl been gush-- ”

Adrien was trying to pay attention to Nino, he really was, but his attention was otherwise diverted by Marinette and Alya’s conversation.

"He looked like an angel, so handsome. The disheveled look with the undone bow tie, and open dress shirt.” Marinette sighed. Adrien could hear the smile in her voice.

”Yeah, I know...” Alya interrupted, somewhat amused. ”-- He looked so good in his suit. His pant hugged his ass so perfectly. You've been gushing about him for two days, Marinette, two days.” Adrien knew it was rude to eavesdrop, but who was Marinette talking about? Not that he cared, really. It was none of his business who Marinette was crushing on. She was just a friend. But why did he felt a sudden pang in his chest at the thought that a boy had caught his friend’s attention. ”I get it! Sunshine was stunning in that video.”

Wait. Hold on. What?!

If sunshine was Adrien and Adrien was sunshine, did it mean Marinette had been talking about him? The Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Beautiful, creative, kind, intelligent Marinette? Marinette who was standing in front of him and currently paying for her caramel macchiato with a dash of cinnamon? That couldn’t be possible.

Adrien.exe had stopped running. The epiphany short-circuited his brain. His eyes widened ever so slightly as the information finally sank in. His heart squeezed, then skipped a beat. And —

His train of thoughts came to a skidding halt.

"Dude, it's rude to stare at Marinette's butt like that.” Nino whispered in his ears and despite the fried synapses in his brain, Adrien still had the presence of mind to let out a noncommittal hum as an answer. Then, Nino’s words registered. A second too late if the knowing smile tugging at the corners of Nino’s lips was any indication. Blood rushed to his cheeks, tinting them a soft pink.

"You're totally blushing too! Are those thoughts appropriate?"

"I- I - I wasn't checking her out! ” Adrien stammered. Head shaking in disapproval. ”Marinette’s just... a friend. Yeah, a friend!” He forced the words out of his mouth in a breathless pant. ”Is she really though?” A treacherous part of mind wondered. Adrien didn't have to be a psychic to know — from the smug look on his best friend’s face — that Nino was about to ask the same question.

”Oh shut up, Nino.” He mumbled, words devoid of any real vehemence. He was definitely not checking out Marinette’s butt. Not that Marinette’s butt wasn’t worthy of being checked out. She had a nice butt, and the way her skin tight jeans were hugging her in all the right places, leaving almost little to the imagination...Her legs, her toned, long, legs that seemed to go on for miles... Marinette was just perfect... From a perfectly platonic friend’s point of view, of course. It was just a friendly observation. Those were cute jeans, as a model he was bound to notice them.

”You're still doing it.” Nino teased a second time, in his ears. The look Adrien threw his way was cold enough to freeze over the arctic ocean. Global warning solved with just one look.

A few minutes later, when the four of them were walking to their usual table in the coffee shop, drinks in hands. When Alya asked him “what’s got you so flustered, Sunshine? After the hip trusts in that video, it be must be quite something if it impresses you, huh? Adrien knew he was never getting out of this alive. He was royally screwed.

#adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #adrinette #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #chat noir #ladybug #plagg #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #chloe bourgeois #Moon writes

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imnotwolverine · 4 years

Text

The girl next door - Deep roots

The Girl Next Door - Chapter 1 DEEP ROOTS

| Chap 2 >

Summary: Henry is stuck in the countryside as COVID-19 wreaks havoc in the world, leaving him with little else left to do but getting to know his spunky next door neighbour, Lizz.

Word count: 1.639

Warnings: strong language, hint of fluff

(Link to my Masterlist)

It was a particularly nice spring day in the countryside, the sky a spotless deep blue as the scent of blooming grasses and flowers permeated the morning air. Henry stepped out through the squeaky gate of his rental home and tilted his head back, stretching out his slightly sleepy body while his akita Kal flew through the gate. Henry smiled, seeing his dog happily zipping through the tall grass next to the narrow dust road and he stuck his hands in his pockets as he started to walk.

It had been a weird couple of months. The COVID-19 virus had meant the immediate stop of all his plans. His work. His holidays. His visits to friends and family. And so, for the first time in years, Henry had all the time in the world to just…be! And mind you, he actually kind of enjoyed it, his once busy jet set lifestyle now very average. Dare he say, normal even.

Like every morning he walked down the path, throwing the same stick as Kal raced past, catching it. And like everyday he waved at Mrs. Gatter, who lured at him through her blinds, her wrinkly fingers quickly shooting back to tending her plants, acting as if she didn’t even notice Henry. Henry suppressed a smile as his eyes wandered further down the road, Kal but a blur of black and white in the corner of his eye.

Yes, he wouldn’t like to admit it. But normal life WAS quite enjoyable.

Kal disappeared for a moment and Henry looked up, following the direction the big Akita had wandered off to. Ah. Also like everyday. The abandoned house, its garden wild and unkempt. Kal’s favourite place to roam around in.

At first Henry had been apprehensive of entering the garden. It was in the end someone’s garden, right? But alas. The weeks became months. And nothing stirred. The garden remained wild and it was safe to say the house had been abandoned and forgotten. And so, Henry had given in to the curiosity of his fur baby and allowed the two of them to roam around for a bit. Something that had became a bit of a daily habit.

Like everyday, Kal jumped with great ease over the small stone wall, his big paws having made a raw spot in between the lush grass where he landed. Henry also stepped over the wall and smirked as Kal halted his zooming to look at a bird that quickly scurried off. A blackbird.

Henry followed Kal as he drifted deeper into the garden, the jungle-like greenery looping around the side of the house, by now almost swallowing half the bottom floor.

‘YOU FUCKIN’ …ARGHHH.’

A female voice set Henry dead in his tracks. Oh shit. There was somebody there. Did she see him? His eyes quickly looked for Kal, but Kal was nowhere to be seen. Oh no.. Feeling a sudden shiver run down his spine, he decided to swallow his pride and make himself known to the woman - hoping Kal hadn’t ran her over in his excitement. Besides, it was the most decent thing he could do as he was practically standing in the middle of, what probably was, her garden.

Moving through the last bit of jungle he got to the back of the yard, his jaw all but dropping at what he saw next.

Slender, milky pale legs in knee high rain boots, topped by a plush pair of buttocks that were perfectly hugged by booty shorts that made Henry swallow harshly. She however didn’t seem to have noticed him, her body still folded in half as she seemed to be too preoccupied with tugging on a pair of obnoxious roots.

‘How hard can this be?!’ She fumed, tugging even harder, the muscles in her legs flexing. Henry was at a loss for words in that moment, blatantly staring at her bum as it jiggled with every tug.

And then Kal appeared back in the corner of his eye, the big dog practically pouncing at the woman from one of the bushes.

‘AAAAAAHHH!’ She screamed, flying back as she released the roots in fright, her plush bottom cushioning the blow as she fell down. ‘What the..’ Her initial terror quickly made way for a chuckle, as she noticed it was not a monster but a dog, the big akita sniffing her with curiosity. ‘Oh hey you.’ She laughed. Kal panted, then moved to sniff the roots and decided it would make for a perfect stick, his big muzzle closing around the roots, continuing the tug of war with the obnoxious plant. ‘Hahahaha. Oh my. You want to help?’ She sniffled, bending forward and letting her gloved hands run through his thick fur.

‘I can help too.’ Henry interjected, making the woman fly up in a new bout of terror.

‘OH MY..’ She quickly shot up to her feet, turning around and looking with utter shock at Henry as he stood there at the edge of the bushes.

‘OH! I’m so sorry..’ Henry exclaimed, quickly looking away, his cheeks flushing. The woman let out a gasp as her eyes slowly took in Henry. Tall, dark, handsome. What did the gods send her way this time?

‘Well..hello there. Uh..’ She quickly straightened up, biting her lip as she suddenly felt very flustered. Did she really have to shout so loudly while gardening? And who was he? Had he heard her from the road and thought something was amiss? Her eyes were met by his hesitant cerulean ones.

‘I’m so sorry about that.’ He repeated, offering her a sheepish smile.

‘That’s..okay. Is this your dog?’ She pointed at Kal as he was about halfway through the feat of pulling out the root.

‘Eh..’ Henry pulled a face as he noticed how the dog was practically digging up half a tree, completely ruining what little acceptable bit of garden there was left. ‘I..eh. Yes. That’s, Kal. KAL! Stop that.’

The dog halted his tugging, looking with half an eye at his owner. ‘Come here boy.’ Henry chided, the dog quickly letting go of the root and reluctantly trotting back to Henry’s heel.

‘Oh, he was actually pretty useful.’ She smiled, winking at the dog. Her dark brown eyes slid back up at Henry, long lashes circling browns that glittered with wonder. Wonder of who this stranger was.

‘Well then perhaps we both can help..’ Henry offered, smiling more broadly as she let out a tinkering laugh. She looked so very becoming. Slightly wavy auburn hair, pale skin with freckles and deep brown eyes that somewhat reminded him of Audrey Hepburn.

‘Perhaps.’ She shrugged, looking back at the mess Kal had left behind. ‘Though it’s probably wiser to just go to town to get some better tools. It’s not like this is the one and only root that needs pulling.’ She hinted at the rest of the garden.

‘Perhaps.’ Henry smiled. ‘I’m..Henry by the way. I live next door.’ Henry pointed in the general direction of his house that lay about a hundred meters further up the dirt road.

‘Ha. The famous Mr. Cavill. My name’s Lizz.’ She wanted to step forward to shake hands, but halted midway, realising with the ongoing COVID crisis that was not a smart thing to do. And so instead, she waved somewhat dorkily, making him snicker, his chest rumbling with mirth.

‘Just Henry, that’s fine.’ Henry mused, returning the gesture and waving at her with the same dorkiness. ‘Nice to meet you Lizz.’ His eyes drifted up to the house right next to them.

‘So..you live here?’ He asked, his brows furrowing as he took a better look at the state of disarray the house was in. Wood rot, missing bricks, chipped paint.

‘Yea. I guess I got a bit over-enthused after seeing “Under the Tuscan sun”.’ She shrugged, giggling at her own joke. ‘It’s the house of my late grandparents. Nobody wanted it. But, I decided I could at least give it a try. I mean..’ She shrugged and looked up at the house. ‘..it sure has got character!’

‘All by yourself?’ Henry raised an eyebrow back at her, stealing a quick glance. Boots, booty shorts and a simple white cotton shirt. Nothing close to what the average builder would wear.

‘Are you doubting my capabilities good sir? But eh..yea. For now. Some friends may come over to assist once the regulations are less restricting. And up til then it’s just me and myself.. and I.’ She winked.

‘Well..my offer stands. It’s not like I built all these muscles for nothing.’ He shrugged, flexing them slightly but immediately regretting those words as she quickly looked away from him, trying her best to hide an obvious blush.

‘Sure… And eh..borrowing sugar.. and all that…stuff.’ She muttered, quickly turning to don her gloves in a wheelbarrow, her cheeks bright red by now.

‘Sorry. That maybe came out..wrong.’ Henry shuffled his feet, looking at her as she rummaged through the contents of the wheelbarrow (some shovels, dirt, the gloves - what did she even need to rummage around for?).

‘Do you eh..maybe want a glass of water?’ She finally turned back around, eyeing him carefully. He shrugged. ‘First gotta walk Kal. Before he digs up your entire garden.’

‘Perhaps.’ She laughed, looking at the dog as he impatiently pushed his nose against Henry’s knee, hearing his name but not knowing why.

‘Well. You know where to find me. I’m home practically always. And eh..my offer stands. Help a neighbour out!’ Henry smiled broadly, tsk’ing to alert Kal to follow him.

‘Thanks. I might hold you up to that..neighbour.’ She smiled in turn.

‘I’m looking forward to it.’ Henry sniffled, catching the glint of mischievousness in her brown eyes.

For the first time in a year he felt something stir inside of him, a little seed having been planted, budding in his heart as it beat with delight.

Today sure was a good day.

| Chap 2 >

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x oc #deep roots #the girl next door #fanfiction #gardening #uk #gardenwork #meetcute #kal #henry bear #henry cavill

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serararku · 3 years

Text

Going for Gold

<Theme>

The mirror covered the entire wall from floor to ceiling. It was dirty from scratches, smudges, and smears, but it still served its purpose well enough. S’era and Scarlett stood under the harsh theatre lights in the backstage room, shoulder to shoulder with a dozen or more Gold Saucer bunny girls. Amidst the constant noise from their chatter, they checked themselves to ensure they were presentable for tonight’s patrons. It was difficult to see, let alone breathe, under the smoggy mixture of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume, but the last thing they wanted to do was complain to the Headmistress; the portly woman too busy counting all the gil that was flowing her way to even notice the two newcomers weren’t even employees.

It was the first time S’era had seen herself in a full body mirror. She stared in awe at herself, with her bunny outfit leaving little to the imagination. The Miqo’te ran her hands down her satin corset and laced underwear, then turned to the side to gawk at her shapely figure. “Wow…” She mumbled to herself, unable to resist striking a pose. “Is this what Zevi sees every day?!”

Scarlett wasn’t so eager to show off, wasting no time trying to disappear behind S’era. Every little move she made, Scarlett adjusted with her, her face pink as she felt judging eyes on her body. Her voice dropped low to S’era’s ear, “W-when you said bunny suits this isn’t...what I had in m-mind, S’era.” she looked around curiously, trying not to draw any attention to the pair.

“I know right? These are way smaller than the practice outfits. Why, it leaves nothing at all to the imagination, huh?” S’era turned to her partner in crime and looked her over; it was clear Scarlett wasn’t used to wearing something so scantily-clad, at least not in public. Scarlett stood awkwardly as she awaited her assessment- hopefully she could relax in time so their target wouldn’t get suspicious. “Everything seems to be holding in the right place. Let’s take a peek out the curtain and see what we’re dealing with.” She still walked a little clumsily in her high heels, but at least she was able to retain her balance; how she planned to run in those was the golden question.

The VIP room appeared more like a private theatre than anything else. Several large viewing screens cycled through different angles of the chocobo races, with more than a few patrons placing their bets with enough gil to refurbish a port. Cigar smoke hung in the air like a dusty fog, choking out the illuminated pathways winding around the room. On the other end was a Viera woman dressed in a familiar bunny garb -- minus the fake ears, of course; she twirled and danced around a metal pole, as most of the patrons this evening huddled at her feet, slipping minted platinum coins into a nearby slot to keep her dancing. S’era squinted her eyes and saw the target, a lone Lalafell watching the dancer from afar at a corner of the room.

Leleradu sat in the dark, with a lukewarm drink in one hand and his feet kicked up on the table. None of the girls were paying him any attention, certainly not while these highrollers showered them with wealth beyond their wildest dreams; even in the dark and clouded by smoke S’era could see the familiar longing in his eyes. She couldn’t ask for an easier target.

“There he is. Over there.” S’era whispered to Scarlett who was huddled against her back, if only to increase her chances of not being seen -- all while the Miqo’te nonchalantly pulled out a wedgie. “Alright… we’ll sit down and I’ll charm him a bit, and once he’s melting between my fingers you give him the goodnight pinch.” She didn’t even wait for her answer, she adjusted herself one last time and began making her way to the bar to grab her soon-to-be ‘patron’ a drink.

Steady breaths left Scarlett as she watched S’era in all her glory and confidant strides walk to the bar. It was hard to feel like she didn’t stand out considering nearly everything was….out there. She gave a bright smile to a woman in the same get-up walking past her and out into the lounge. Taking that chance, Scarlett scooted out behind S’era, trying not to break her neck in the process but also seemed as though she belonged.

“Hi, wonderful hair!” she complimented people in passing while wearing a painted smile, the only thing she could easily pass off. As soon as S’era turned toward the bar, she broke off in a half-sprint toward the Lalafell, feeling butt-naked and vulnerable now that she didn’t have the short Miqo’te to hide behind. “Great to see you~” she sang out, casually sitting at the other end of Leleradu’s booth, her arm cascading over the back of the plush leather. The Lalafell jumped once he noticed her presence; he was remarkably skittish for some alleged gambler. “The dancers are like no other here.” Scarlett ignored his spasm and did her best to jumpstart a conversation, her eyes casually glancing in S’era’s direction while silently begging for her to hurry.

“Yes… Yalde is the best dancer here…” Leleradu peeled his beady eyes from the Viera’s performance to peer curiously at Scarlett. “I’ve never seen you here before… are you um… new?”

“I am.” she confirmed as she watched the Viera without trying to make it seem like she had been intently trying not to gawk too hard at her and the strangers. Leleradu made a strange noise before folding his legs together, his beady little eyes staring down at Scarlett’s chest while beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. She did her utmost best to ignore that too.

“We both are!” S’era finally returned, with a fresh bubbling drink in her hand. Coiling her tail around her waist she slid into the seat beside him, making sure her thigh was pressed against his leg. “Hey there, handsome. This here is Ruby, and I’m Sapphire. Here...” She plucked the glass from his hand and tossed it over her shoulder before offering him her ‘special’ drink. “You look a little thirsty. Why not sip on mine?”

“O-oh… thank you…” He gingerly accepted the offer and sipped tentatively.

She waited until he was a few more sips in before responding with, “Oh it’s not for free. You’ll have to pay us back for that.” She flashed her teeth as she looked over her shoulder, giving Scarlett a playful wink.

Leleradu’s face turned pale. “B-but I don’t have any gil…!” cried the gambler. S’era leaned against him, pressing his arm in between her breasts.

“I can think of other forms of payment, little man.” Her tail slipped up his chest to brush against his chin. “How about you finish your drink so the three of us can find someplace quiet?” The Gambler wasn’t about to pass up a drink and a good time- especially when they’re both free. He knocked the drink back faster than she expected, and already turned to paw at her fishnet leggings.

Scarlett sat numb -- her brain could barely keep up and focus let alone process what had been happening. Between the dancer, the Lalafell, S’era’s odd advances and now suddenly she was Ruby?

Wait -- what? A quiet place, the three of them? Instantly Scarlett’s eyes snapped to S’era and Leleradu in complete silence. With any luck she wouldn’t have to be much of a third party to anything.

S’era slapped Leleradu’s hand away from her thigh as a grin spread across her face. “Is that any way to handle a woman? Take it sloooow, honey. We have all night to get to know each other…” She took him by the wrist and brushed his fingers against her chest, before placing his hand beneath her chin. She then began to purr -- loudly and forcibly, however Leleradu clearly didn’t know the difference. “Isn’t that better? Just you, and me, and our friend. Alone to explore each other, heeheehee…!” There was a heavy fall of ‘Ruby’s’ stomach to which it might have bottomed out in the pit of her pelvis, this sickening feeling that washed over her as she listened to the weird excited sounds of their target. Worse that she had to watch it unfold to some degree.

To say she was uncomfortable was a vast understatement, in any other situation the Monk might have blushed or stuttered but all she wanted to do was to punch the man due to the lack of patience and her comfort levels plummeting -- perhaps more so those extra steps S’era was taking in her advances.

Leleradu had the biggest and goofiest grin plastered to his face before it began to fade. His head teetered to and fro, and in a moment his eyes lost focus. She silently watched him desperately cling to consciousness, but the medicine she used was strong enough to knock a goobbue off its feet. At last the Lalafell fell to the side like a sleeping toddler, his big head dropping onto S’era’s lap.

“Finally…!” She whispered, signaling Scarlett over as her act was over. “I was afraid it wasn’t gonna work! Let’s get him in the sack then get the hells outta here!”

Her attention snapped to and she ticked a gaze over to S’era, “What?” She seemed a little frazzled when she stood up and looked towards the man and the Miqo’te, “I thought you wanted me to jab him?” She quietly huffed out, standing in front of the pair to make sure no one passing by caught a glimpse of what was going on. In reality, it all looked as if the man might have had too much to drink. Already the plan was going to shit -- where exactly was the sack? The Monk looked about and tried not to seem frantic in search of the item.

“This will only keep him out for a few minutes. Quick- get the sack from the prep room. It should be under the table.” S’era looked down at the stirring bounty before glancing back up at Scarlett. “Unless you want to stay with him and I’ll go get it? Your choice.” Two Roegadyn bouncers, one Sea Wolf and the other Hellsguard, began to peer in their direction, noticing them all huddled in the back corner of the lounge; with any luck they would assume they were tending to a patron, but just as Scarlett began looking around, one of them began their slow approach to see what was amiss.

She swallowed dryly before backing away from her partner in crime. She turned to move and came face to face with one of the bouncers, gazing up to his pale blue face, “Sorry!” she huffed, reaching behind her with one hand, with the other hand coming up as Scarlett kept her arm pressed to her front where her corset went limp, “O-oh you’re a strapping fellow….I need your help.” she smiled upward, “I’ve popped a string...could you maybe help me back to the prep room so I’m not seen by anyone while my friend Sapphire here entertains the patreons?”

He let out a grunt when he eyed her fashion-disaster. “Damn Manderville and his cheap suits. Alright, let’s go.” He pulled off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. Confidence surged through her now that she was fully covered, half dragging the bouncer along with her and keeping her corset pinned to her frame on the way back to the prep room backstage.

S’era looked up to see the dark red bouncer coming up the aisle. She propped Leleradu under her arm and began running her fingers through his hair by the time the Roegadyn was close enough to talk to. “Everything going alright?” He asked, eyeing the Lalafell suspiciously. “He ain’t giving you two any trouble, is he?”

“Nope!” S’era beamed, glancing down at him. “He’s just had a little too much to drink. I hope he wakes up soon… I want to play some more.” He smiled at that, and began making his way back to his post. Yet the moment he turned his back on her, she began scanning the room for the best exit. “The main entrance is guarded by those two bouncers… so that’s a no go. The best way out would be through the prep room? No no, far too many eyes. They would spot us for sure…” As the gears turned round and round in her head from devising an exit strategy, Scarlett returned- without the bouncer, but with the sack. “Excellent…! Now we just have to-”

“Neeuugh…” Leleradu shifted and squirmed in S’era’s lap. “What… what hap-URK!” Scarlett swiftly jabbed him at the carotid sinus at the neck and the Lalafell dropped limp like a doll back into S’era’s lap.

“You need to teach me that sometime.” She lifted the bounty up like a giant plush doll and stuffed him headfirst into the cross-stitched linen sack. With little choice and zero time, they decided to make a run for it toward the nearest exit!

Downstairs, R’zevi had lost count of the number of times he’d circled around the Saucer - gathering trash, trying to avoid security and simply fade into the background; that was something he was usually very good at. This usually didn’t include patrons at the Gold Saucer who liked to dump their trash everywhere. He glanced up towards the staircase S’era and Scarlett were supposed to have been down several minutes before turning his attention back to gathering yet another pile of discarded trash, while pretending not to hear the security guard as he approached. The cleared throat was a good indication that he hadn’t succeeded in simply ‘blending in’.

“Hey - got another issue up by Chocobo Racing, need you to take care of it.”

R’zevi blinked - glancing at the stairs again before giving the guard a confused look. “You want me to pull this cart up those stairs, when there are people already up there who can clean whatever this ‘issue’ is up?” The last thing on his mind right now was shoveling another wheelbarrow full of chocobo poop. They had people up there already for that exact problem.

Yet the look on the security guard’s face made it clear he could not care less about his plight if he tried- and he was trying. “Yeah - and that’s what you’re getting paid for, so you’re gonna do it.”

He gave him a dirty look while he sauntered off- cleaning the chocobo pens could take another hour, and he needed to be here when they returned! Begrudgingly he began to pull his cart toward the base of the stairs, still wondering how such a fine establishment didn’t have elevators for the custodians to use. Maybe if he was fast enough he co-

“HEY!” Someone shouted from the top floor. “GET BACK HERE!”

R’zevi squinted his eyes and stood up straight once he saw them- two bunny girls running as fast as they could in high heels, with one of them hauling a sack with a Lalafellin-sized lump smacking against her back as she hurried; the other bunny girl was pulling things off the nearby counters to stall the red and blue Roegadyn bouncers in hot pursuit. Once they reached the top of the stairs they lifted their rears onto the railing and slid down the spiraling staircase on the other side of the Main Stage. He pulled down his hat and began pushing his cart toward the mini arcade tucked away in the corner, as S’era got the crowd cheering and applauding from the free show of her breasts bouncing with every run and step; she wasn’t very fast in those high heels, but thankfully her pursuers cautiously descended the stairs to avoid tripping and falling, before they slammed into the crowd at the bottom floor.

“There!” S’era gasped, embarrassed by the rowdy crowd but thankful they were stepping out of the way to let them pass; to make it even better, they were forming back up behind them, causing the two bouncers to slow down as they forced their way through. R’zevi pulled out a woolen sack of garbage he had collected since donning his disguise, and braced himself- it had to look natural, just as she planned. S’era turned to look over her shoulder and leaned in with her shoulder, just as they rushed into the arcade.

THWACK!

S'era and R'zevi smacked into each other and fell, tossing the sack into his cart with a hard thud. Scarlett took a moment to look over her shoulder for the bouncers, but they were stuck behind the cheering crowd. When she looked back, S'era was busy pulling off her high-heeled thigh boots, as R'zevi was stuffing a definitely unconscious Leleradu into the inconspicuous side door of his now dented cart. "Thanks, love!" S'era beamed, pecking him on the lips after they exchanged bags.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" He cried out, throwing his arms up before kicking the cart over. "Watch where you're running!"

Scarlett had just managed to pull off her heels before S'era grabbed her by the wrist and took off running; this time much, much faster. Right on queue the bouncers broke free of the crowd and began sprinting across the Main Stage towards the arcade, both of them out of breath and out of patience. “You there!” One of them shouted, pointing at R’zevi. “Two women dressed as VIP employees came running through here! Did you see them?”

“Did I see them?!” He repeated, gesturing to his dented cart. “They smashed right into me and tossed all this garbage everywhere before they took off!”

“Which way did they go?!”

“Down the hallway, towards the Round Square!” R’zevi wanted to throw them off, but S’era was against it- she wanted her pursuers to believe R’zevi was completely innocent and not at all involved in her scheme, otherwise they may search the cart and find a bruised Leleradu tucked away for safekeeping.

“Godsdamnit!” One of them grunted, turning to glare at the other. “They’re going to the Leap of Faith! Let’s go!”

R’zevi kept up his act until they were beyond the arcade and out of sight. Once the scattered trash was stuffed into the back with their prize, he pushed his cart back to the custodian’s closet. The nearby garbage chute led straight to the bottom of the Gold Saucer, where regular Ul’dah workers would sift through the refuse to collect anything that could be recycled, and burn everything else. He looked over his shoulder one last time to ensure there were no witnesses. Once he was convinced the coast was clear, R’zevi dropped Leleradu into the chute, pulled a mask over his mouth for the smell, and climbed in right behind him.

“Almost there…!” S’era shouted back at Scarlett, who was being dragged around the Gold Saucer. Just up ahead sat the portal to the Leap of Faith timed event, with people already excitedly stepping in to join the fun. Scarlett looked over her shoulder to see the two bouncers turn the corner on the other side of the large cylinder chamber, and just before S’era dragged them both through the portal, she broke off and stepped into the nearby crowd huddled around the minibar and prize booths. Would this work? Would they fall for this diversion? What if they didn’t? What if they spotted her?

Scarlett covered her mouth as she caught her breath, pulled off her bunny ear headband, and turned her back to the opening in the crowd. With luck both Roegadyn bouncers leapt feet first into the portal after S’era. Now all she had to do was pick up her clothes R’zevi placed in the designated spot behind an arcade machine in the Minion Square on the lower level, change out of this ridiculously scandalous costume, and casually leave the main entrance before the VIP Lounge sent more people who could recognize her. Scarlett’s shoulders finally loosened as the adrenaline pumping through her veins began to wear off; her part in this heist was over, at last.

S’era on the other hand was just getting started. When she jumped through the portal with the sack of garbage over her shoulder, she was met with a rush of warm air and welcomed sunlight. The course was almost a mile above La Noscea, on a beautifully sunny afternoon, with a soothing breeze that swept through her body to soothe her soul. This temperate climate is why so many Miqo’te tribes have settled on these shores, and although her heart belonged to the dusty wastes of Thanalan, she was still in her element here.

“Stop! Hey!” Her distraction was short lived when she heard the two bouncers stumble through the portal after her. “You’re under arrest! Put the Lalafell down nice and easy… don’t make this harder than it has to be. You’ve got nowhere to run… this little chase is over.”

“Leleradu is mine!” S’era sneered, turning her back to the two brutes. They dashed after her to close the distance; either one could easily tackle her to the ground if they managed to grab her, but there was one crucial detail they didn’t take into account. Aside from the Viera, Miqo’te had the strongest legs of all Hydaelyn mortal races.

S’era leapt almost four meters high and soared through the air to a floating platform further down the course, landing both bare feet on the edge with a soft thud before taking off into a sprint again. If these bouncers wanted her and her hostage, they would have to do this her way.

“Damnit…! Stay here in case she falls off! I’ll corner her on the other end!” The Sea Wolf remained ready at the entrance as the Hellsguard took the long way through the course, leaping over small gaps of the bridges and stumbling on the narrow floating steps leading him further and deeper into the event. He caught glimpses of S’era scrambling up the side of a stone wall like a squirrel, or leaping clean over his head a dozen meters above him, but he was never close enough to catch. “Gragh!” He roared, shoulder-checking a Hrothgar and sending him flipping down through the air. He shoved a lovely Hyur couple when they jumped onto the platform before him as well. “Get out of my way!”

S’era waited for him on the highest part of the course, where she could see both the end goal and the starting point. The view was notably gorgeous, with the surrounding forcefield maintained over the entire Leap of Faith event warping the vast stretches of land below into a fisheye lense. With Leleradu safely removed from the Gold Saucer by R’zevi, and Scarlett on her way to the airship to return to Ul’dah, all she had to worry about was escaping herself.

“Stop…! Stop right there…!” A raspy voice called out between his coarse wheezing fits, struggling to pull himself up the edge to stand on her platform. He slumped over and leaned against his knees, drenched with sweat and absolutely exhausted. “You have… hahhh…. nowhere else to go… just give… up!”

“Well? What are you waiting for?” S’era called out, adjusting the sack on her shoulder. “Are you gonna come here and arrest me or not?”

“Guhh…” He straightened his back before stepping onto the narrow tree bridge between them. His balance was pretty good, for a Hellsguard Roegadyn, but it was about to become much, much worse. S’era swung the sack off her shoulder and began spinning it around over her head, much to the shock of the bouncer. “Hey… don’t do that!” Her eyes flickered when she suddenly loosened her grip, sending the sack flying towards him. “What are you do-OOF!” The bouncer caught it at the expense of his balance, causing his foot to slip off the tree trunk to send him toppling over. “AAAaaaaaaahhhh….!” Before he got too far down, the forcefield caught him midair, and he vanished out of sight.

The Sea Wolf bouncer shot to his feet when his coworker reappeared, landing on the soft grass with a hard thud. “Did you get her?!” He asked, eyeing the sack excitedly. Before he had a chance to reply, S’era appeared, using her tail to spin in the air so she would land on her hands and feet.

“GOTCHA!” His burly arms swung wide to close in on S’era, but she leapt high into the air- far higher than he expected. Both feet came down hard on his face with a THWOP THWOP before she vanished in a cloud of smoke behind him.

“She went through the portal! After her!” The other bouncer grunted, clutching the prize tightly in his grasp. When they rushed back through to the Gold Saucer, they looked around for any sign of the slippery woman- but she was nowhere to be found. “Damn… she’s gone.” He wiped the sweat from his brow before collapsing onto his backside. “They don’t pay us enough for this…”

“At least we got the halfman back.” Grinned the other, pulling the sack up and turning it over to dump its contents. Discarded food, used up cactpot tickets, and plastic cups scattered all over their feet, with one particular Lalafellin gambler still missing.

“What do you two morons think you’re doing?!” Shouted the manager of the Round Square. “Dumping your trash all over the floor?! Guess who gets to clean all this up?! That’s right, get a move on!” Defeatedly the two bouncers began scooping up the garbage, much to their embarrassment as the shouting attracted the attention of just about everyone nearby.

“They definitely don’t pay us enough for this…” One of them grumbled under his breath, wondering if there were any mercenary guilds looking to hire.

---

Collab: @rzevi-tia-ffxiv @mira-isenhart-xiv

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cakesunflower · 5 years

Text

Reach For You [Dad!Calum AU] Ch. 9

Chapter 9

IF HE CAUGHT a glimpse of himself in the reflection of his drink, Calum would’ve thrown it against the damn wall. It was reminiscent of a few months ago, when he first found out about Luna and had a bit of a breakdown in his apartment, a glass already falling victim to his frustration once before. There was a point in his life, years ago, when Calum thought the most painful heartache he’d experienced was when Aspen left him. Then he thought nothing could beat the raging betrayal he’d felt when he found out he had a daughter. But now, with a truth so heavy and unbelievable and destructive ruling over his head, Calum couldn’t fucking think.

He didn’t want to. Not when he knew his thoughts would be consumed by what Aspen told him, not when he would be forced to think of the one woman he held on a pedestal in a way he never thought imaginable.

Calum’s head fucking hurt. Too much had gone on in the past day, his mind a convoluted mess of thoughts he couldn’t seem to weave his way through. He’d slept with Aspen. He’d let himself give into the primal desire that he hadn’t known was bubbling until the moment he let it all out, let himself get lost in her in the intimate way he hadn’t been aware he was craving. And then. . . Then she came clean. She told him, everything, and as much as Calum had wanted to know the truth, now he wished he hadn’t heard a single thing. How was he supposed to believe it? How was he supposed to accept the truth?

He’d called his mother, right when he got in the car after leaving Aspen’s apartment, with shaky fingers and an unsteady breath. When he heard his mother speak, greeting him happily, Calum’s eyes screwed shut and forehead rested against the steering wheel, jaw clenching shut tightly as he willed himself to sound perfectly normal. As if everything was okay. As if he wasn’t just told his mother was the reason he never knew he had a daughter.

But he managed to. He stayed sane, stayed steady, as he persuaded his mother to come out to New York with his dad to visit him. A conversation needed to be had and it needed to be done in person. Calum spewed some bullshit about wanting them to see the New York club and felt a prickle of satisfaction when his mum said they’d take the next flight out.

Though, nothing could replace the bitter, agonizing pain that poisoned his blood as Aspen’s words echoed in his head on a loop. So much needed to be done, to be said, to be decided, and Calum felt dizzy from trying to figure everything out. Sleeping with Aspen would change things, wouldn’t it? It’s not something they can take back or ignore. Things were already teetering on a fine line between them, and this just threw them off whatever balance they may have had.

Fuck, Calum didn’t even know how to feel about her, about what they did. Not when he could feel himself spiraling, drinking down to the bottom of the bottle of whiskey as he thought of his mother’s actions. Of Aspen’s actions. Was it true? Did he believe it? If it was, did he still blame Aspen? Could he put himself in her shoes and try to understand?

Calum’s grip on the glass tightened. But instead of shattering it against the wall, he emptied the rest of the whiskey into it and drank.

He was numb to the burn of the alcohol. Unfortunately for him, he was nowhere near being numb to the anguish from his circumstances.

*****

There was only one thing keeping Calum’s heart from racing, and that was Duke. His dog was thrilled to see Calum after months of being separated, his paws clattering on the floor of Calum’s apartment as he jumped around excitedly, and Calum felt a sense of comfort from the little dog as he pet him and let Duke lick at him. It was all that could maintain the calm facade Calum was sporting, his smiles genuine at the dog but somehow still forced, disappearing altogether when he heard the thick clacks of heels approaching from the hallway.

“Your father once again apologizes for not being able to make it,” his mum’s voice sounded, prompting Calum to stand up straight as Duke circled his feet. “He sends his love.”

Calum cleared his throat, feeling it tighten at his mother’s presence as he wiped at his nose with his thumb. “’S alright,” he responded, voice slightly hoarse, facing his mother. She stood there, still in her airport clothes, walking over to the bar in the living room to pour herself a drink. She was staying at a hotel after Calum conjured some excuse of a plumbing leak that was being fixed, not wanting her to stumble upon the many items in his apartment that showed Luna’s existence, including her bedroom. He wanted his mother to find out on his own terms.

He just needed to man the fuck up and do it.

“I need to talk to you ’bout something.” The words were slipping from Calum’s mouth at that thought, Adam’s apple working as his mother made her way over to him, settling down on the plush couch.

The dry tightness in his throat wasn’t going anywhere, lodged in the middle and taking great effort to push out words Calum needed to say. He knew, the moment he brought this up to his mother, the moment he questioned her about her grand interference in his life, it would all become a reality. Sleep had not come to him since the moment Aspen confessed everything, and Calum doubted it would come by any easier once this tormenting conversation took place.

It was taking everything in him not to stop himself from crumbling just yet.

His dark eyes met his mother’s, which were so warm and open and encouraging that Calum, for a moment, wondered if it was better to just stay quiet. But then the glittering green eyes of his daughter, the same ones of her mother, flashed across Calum’s mind and he was hastily blurting before he could stop himself, “Did you make Aspen leave because she was pregnant?”

A pin drop could be heard in the silence that followed Calum’s outburst of a question, like time stood agonizingly still. His fingers were digging into his kneecaps through his pants, grip tight and almost as painful as the rigid tension in his muscles. Calum’s gaze was on the floor in front of him, unable to look at the woman beside him as he impatiently waited for an answer. As each second passed by unanswered, Calum felt his heart picking up its pace and mind swirling with unimaginable thoughts he didn’t want to give the time of day.

But the silence was too much. He needed her to speak. “Mum,” Calum ground out through gritted teeth, eyes squeezing shut. “Answer the question. Please.”

“Calum,” she finally spoke up, her voice too gentle for the situation, sounding too innocent when Calum had a horrible gut feeling she wasn’t. “I don’t know wha—”

“Don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Calum snapped, eyes flashing open as he finally looked at his mother, expression forming into a glare he never thought he’d look at her with. She stared back, stunned and confused and, what Calum easily noticed, dreading. His heart felt as though there was a fist around it. Calum stood up on shaky legs, staring down at her with incredulously widened eyes. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. So tell me the truth.”

Joy put her glass down and Calum noticed the slight shake in her own hands, clearing her throat and trying to appear more nonchalant than the situation called for. She remained poised where she sat, lips pursed momentarily before she looked up at him. “Who told you Aspen was pregnant, love?” she asked with a dismissing laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

Calum wasn’t having any of this. He could feel his blood beginning to boil, a fiery anger he’d never experienced before clenching his fists and tightening his jaw. His breathing was beginning to quicken, unable to inhale enough air to keep up with his rapid heart beat. She was acting too dismissive, was going on the defense, which meant she had something to be defensive about. Meant that she was, in fact, hiding something. And as those realizations slowly began settling in Calum’s mind, the more nauseous and angry and betrayed he felt.

“No,” Calum spoke in an eerily calm voice, gaze meeting hers once again. “What’s ridiculous is that you knew my girlfriend was pregnant and made her leave.” He let out a disbelieving scoff, expression forming one of heartbreak that he hoped made his mother realize just how badly she fucked up. “What’s ridiculous is that, ultimately, it’s your fault I never knew I had a daughter and missed out on so fucking much.”

He never cursed in front of his mother, respected her too much for that. But right now, with his heart aching and blood pumping, respect was the last thing he felt for her.

“My fault?” Joy repeated, staring up at Calum in disbelief, which just floored him because who was she to look shocked? She stood up as well, not even her heels giving her any height of her six foot son, but that didn’t matter. “She took the money, Calum. She could’ve said no, could’ve stayed—but she took it and left. What does that say about her, hmm?”

“Jesus, Mum!” Calum burst out, fingers flying into his hair as his widened eyes met her challenging ones, taking a few steps away. He pointed an accusing, ring clad finger at her. “Don’t turn this around on her right now—this is about you and how you purposefully played on Aspen’s intimidation and made her leave.” His skin was on fire, feeling a pain between his eyes that was a prelude to an oncoming headache. Calum let out a deep, sharp breath. “She’d always felt like she didn’t belong and you used that against an already anxious woman and ran her out of town!”

“That’s because she doesn’t belong, Calum,” Joy snapped, her serene expression falling into a scowl of her own, clearly not appreciating the way her son was speaking to her. She looked stern, matching her tone of voice as she continued once a silenced Calum stared at her with narrowed eyes. “Sweetheart, being a father when you’d only just turned twenty-one? It would’ve held you back. You weren’t done with school yet and all of your focus would’ve gone to a child conceived out of a relationship that wasn’t going to last in the first place because Aspen was not right for you. I’m sorry, honey, but I was doing you a favor.”

Calum wondered if his mother genuinely believed what she was saying—if the words she was spewing actually made sense to her, because Calum was just becoming increasingly more confused and outraged and pissed. She truly wasn’t making any sense to him. “Doing me a favor?” he repeated with a scoff. “You didn’t have the fucking right!” His voice bellowed through the suite and Calum was briefly aware of Duke’s head raising from where he sat on the armchair, but his furious gaze was fixated on his mother. “The choice should’ve been mine—not yours and not Aspen’s. I don’t give a shit about her not belonging or whatever you’re trying to justify. I loved her and I didn’t care about what anyone else thought. She was—is—a good person but you couldn’t look past the fact that she’s not who you pictured me with and decided to keep me from the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Joy was silent, not at all used to the venom in Calum’s voice, the fierce glare on his face meant for only her. There was a fire in his eyes and a rigidness in his stature, and Calum hoped she could see just how much she hurt him. He needed to talk things out with Aspen, he knew, but right now, all he could focus on was his mother and what her unjustified decision cost him. Her reasoning may make sense to her, but it didn’t carry an ounce of justification for Calum. It infuriated him, made him nauseous to think that his mother thought any of this was right.

His eyes were burning, tears of anger and betrayal and heartbreak flooding into them with the torrent of emotions he was experiencing. To think that all of this could’ve been avoided if his mother had gotten off her high horse, if Aspen had come talked to him, if he’d tried harder to find her. Never before did Calum feel such a strong desire to put his fist through a wall.

Instead, he dug his hand into his wallet, roughly pulling out the picture he kept in there before holding it up to his mother. “Her,” Calum gruffly spoke, voice audibly as shaky as his hand. “You kept her out of my life. How the hell am I supposed to forgive you for that, Mum?” He saw her throat work, his own shoulders slumping as her wide eyes were fixated on the picture of a smiling Luna with little daisies in her hair that she and Calum had placed during one of their days at the park. One of his favorite pictures he’d taken, immediately getting it developed. Calum’s hand dropped and he knew his mother was looking at his glassy eyes, downward turned lips, and devastated expression. His voice turned hard, eerily quiet as his brimming eyes narrowed and jaw tightened painfully. “Luna is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And she would’ve been the best thing four years ago if you hadn’t forced her mum out.”

*****

He knew he shouldn’t be here. Knew his life felt like it had fallen apart and being surrounded by booze wasn’t going to help him deal with the situation any better. But there wasn’t much for him to do. The last person he wanted to see for now was his mum, and it was Aspen’s days with Luna.

Aspen.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Calum bowed his head as his grip on the glass tightened, the pounding of his heart louder in his ears than the thundering bass of the song playing throughout the club. It was hammering in his head, which still ached from the conversation he had with his mum yesterday. It’d been a whole day since he last saw or spoke to her, so while she had tea with her friends in the city, Calum stayed in his apartment with hid dog, refraining from breaking every piece of furniture in sight. Because this was shit. Everything was shit.

It had been difficult to wrap his head around the truth when Aspen had told him, but hearing it from his mother—there weren’t enough drinks in the world to numb him from this kind of pain. He’d been pissed at Aspen before, hadn’t been afraid to let her know how much she hurt him for reasons he had deemed as selfish. Now that he knew the truth, he was stung with hurt that she hadn’t come talk to him when everything was going on, but he was also disgusted. Disgusted with his mother for giving Aspen that heinous ultimatum and disgusted with himself for not trying to find her after she left.

She had gone, and Calum just. . . Let it happen.

But he slept with her. They slept together, and it had been just as dizzying and thrilling and wonderful as he remembered—even more so, if that was possible. Kissing Aspen, touching her. . . Calum could never forget how fucking amazing she’d felt against him, and the other night had just reminded him of what he’d been missing. He’d been with her before he knew the truth, had been in a state of aggravation and unexpected desire, but wanted her all the same.

Now he knew the truth. Now he didn’t know what to think. What to do.

“What’s up with you, man?” Calum lifted his head when he felt a hand clap his shoulder and Michael appear at his side. He was nursing his own drink, green eyes appearing dark under the colored lights of the club, but those couldn’t hide the concern Calum saw swimming in them.

“Nothin’,” the dark haired man responded once clearing his throat, standing up straight. He didn’t want to delve into his problems right now, didn’t want to wander in the dark corners of his mind despite the fumes escaping already.

Michael eyed him, not believing Calum for a second but not wanting to push him. “Alright, well, come on. Luke and Ash are already up top,” he urged, tugging at Calum’s arm to pull him off the stool he sat on.

Calum let Michael drag him through the crowded club, easily pushing past the many bodies gathered in his club as they went up the stairs towards the private section. Being around so many strangers wasn’t ideal for Calum, not by the least, but he didn’t want to be alone either. Not right now, anyway.

“There he is!” Ashton grinned once he and Michael came into view. He was sitting on the couch, Luke on the couch as Michael sat next to him. Jutting his chin at the drink in Calum’s hand, Ashton added, “Maybe that drink will make you look less miserable.”

With a roll of his eyes, Calum sat on the single couch opposite of Ashton, a glass table in between them littered with bottles and glasses. Calum didn’t even bother arguing with Ashton—he felt as though he had the right to look miserable. After the shit he just came to find out? Calum wasn’t even sure how to act. Honestly, he’s finished two and a half packs of cigarettes ever since that night at Aspen’s, and still he felt the itch to step outside and light another one up. He felt the blood tickle his veins unpleasantly, felt his gut twisting and churning painfully every time he thought of Aspen and what she must have been feeling all those years ago, made to raise a child by herself because she didn’t think enough of herself.

But he was mad at her, too. She should’ve gone to him as soon as she found out. Should’ve aired out her concerns to him. It was her body, yeah, but her pregnancy had just as much to do with him as it did her. Calum would have wanted a say in the matter, would’ve assured her that they would get through it together and that he wanted a baby with her. He’d loved her. Loves her. Does he?

Calum took another sip of his drink, glaring at nothing in particular as the music continued consistently. If he’d been conflicted about his feelings regarding Aspen before, he was now thrown into a pit of endless confusion and frustration. He shouldn’t have slept with her, he knew, especially because of so much between them had yet to be resolved. But he also didn’t regret it, which dizzied him. Being with her that night felt like being stuck in a downpour after a drought—revitalizing and something to soak in.

His grip on the glass tightened. But she had left. His mother had played a part in it. And both he and Luna had to suffer in the hands of the woman who raised him and the woman Calum loved unconditionally.

“Seriously, Cal, what’s up with you?” Luke’s voice pulled him out of his muddling thoughts, catching sight of the curious look on the blonde’s face. “Did something happen?”

Across from him, Ashton snorted. “What did Aspen do now?”

Calum swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He sat, elbows resting on his thighs and shoulders slouched as his gaze locked with his friend’s. “Don’t,” Calum griped, his voice rough and stern. “Not in the mood for you talkin’ shit about her tonight.”

Ashton huffed, leaning back in his seat with his arms resting on the armrest. “It’s not talking shit if it’s true, Cal. I get tolerating her for Luna’s sake but how’re you just gonna forget all that pain she caused you?”

It was like Ashton pulled the lid off of Calum’s simmering, bubbling aggravation.

“Is that what you fuckin’ think I did? Forgot?” Calum demanded, no regards for the glass as he slammed his on the table, the sharp clank drowned out by the music. But the heavy indignation in Calum’s voice could be heard loud and clear, earning startled looks from his three best friends. He didn’t care, though. Calum was frustrated and pissed and heartbroken and betrayed and he was ready to explode. “I didn’t fucking forget anything, Ashton. I remember, quite clearly, how it felt when Aspen left and I’m still trying to work through the shit I feel when I think about the fact that I have a daughter that was kept from me.”

With each word, Calum’s voice rose enough to drag the attention of others towards their seated area, but Calum couldn’t give a fuck. His body was heating up with vexation and exasperation, muscles tight with tension he desperately wanted to be rid of. Calum pointed at Ashton, accusatory and hostile, as he seethed, “You don’t know the whole story, so let it go.”

They all looked confused as Ashton’s eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed, but it was Michael who spoke up. “Do you know the whole story?”

“Yeah, I fucking do,” Calum snapped before letting out a humorless scoff, giving his friends a look. His words were quick and harsh, carried with a bitter firmness in a thick voice. “The fuck do you think I had Mum fly over for? Had to ask her if she really did give Aspen money to run out of town with my baby. It’s all fucked and I don’t need any of you chiming in with your own opinions—especially if you’re gonna shit on the mother of my kid.”

His words were followed by a heavy silence amongst the boys, deaf to the music playing and people partying all around them. Ashton, Luke and Michael all stared at Calum, eyes wide and jaws hung and disbelief written across their faces as they tried to process what Calum had just told them. He wanted to scoff—as if they’d have better luck understanding this shit of a situation than he did.

“She fucking took the money?”

Ashton’s words had Calum springing to his feet, teeth clenched together so tightly it was a wonder they didn’t shatter. All eyes were on him, but the scowl on Calum’s face was not one to be reckoned with. He didn’t need this. He didn’t fucking need his friends questioning the situation when he could barely understand it, didn’t need Ashton’s bias clouding his fucked up judgement because he didn’t know what to do. Calum wasn’t in control, was desperately looking for a way to be, but he didn’t know where to fucking start.

He hadn’t been in control of his life for years now. And the last thing he wanted to do was spiral.

Calum gave a shake of his head, the thundering music doing nothing to help his pounding head. “Fuck this.”

And then he was gone, ignoring his friends’ calls of his name as he left his own club, ready to head home and make use of the jar of weed he kept in his bedroom.

tags: @crownedbyluke @gotta-try-something-new @rishlo @bitchinbabylon @ghstofcalum @dxmncalum @letsfxckindance @unsexilexi @calumthoodsyonce @grreatgooglymoogly @therainydays4 @sadbreakfast-club @lifeakaharry @codycasperky2 @biggestslutforcalum @complete-trash-101 @kinglyhemmings @hemmomfg @friendly-neighborhood-michelle @cxddlyash @checkeredcalum @lovelettercalum @nostalgia-luke @captain-what-is-going-on @slimthicccal @bloodytbs @miahelizaaabeth @ghostofhood @elsysoza @writing-in-riverdale @tourettesboi @angelbbycal @bbteamlove @xoforeverx @stfujace @thebodaciouscth @helplesshood @runawaywithme-xo @lietomemyvalentine @emma070900 @cosmixcalum @babygirlcashton @calumamongmen @5sos-stan4lyfe @ihatemyself21 @lipstickstainfading @crystalisinfinite @misskarynie @wrappedaroundcal @wcstethenights @michealcliffturd @akacalciumhood @clum-thomas @poppedpins @dollbitxhes @5saucewho @hearts-to-the-sky @booklove-2 @walkedhomealone @andreabjoerg @qualitylu @softboycal @early-thoughts @5saucefanfic @dher216 @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @babyloniancal @xlov3quotingx @aybbblondie @rexorangecouny @flowerchild8341 @romanticalumhood @kaxseychill @babyloncalm @calistheloml @calumh-excess @egyptiangoldhood @irwinkitten @soulmatecashton @gettingjillywithit @asht0ns-world @visualm3nte @xhaileyreneex @cal-pal-cuddles @invisiblexcth @cliffordcntrl @mermaid-merrick @5secondssofssummer @cals-babylons @mysteriouslycali @hoodcentral @cathartichaoss @inlovehoodx @gigglyirwin @roselukes @thepixiedreambitch @calumhoodless @dancingonanemptywallet @antisocialbandmate @sunnysidesblog @escap0-with-me @rosa-aurum @thewhitestbitch-u-know @rosecoloredash @biwriting @calteahood @2k17muke @theagenderwhocriedwolf @caelumhood @kinglycalum @fucking5sos @ohhmuke @ghostofch @isabella-mae13 @5secsofsomewhere @meangirlsmum @danielaaaa1997 @tupeloohoneyy @yeah-idk-why-not @sublimehood @shower-me-with-roses @hotmessmichael @xx-cuddlemecalum-xx @pauliip @jetblackyoungblood @astroashtonio @valentinelrh @softforcal @plainwhiteluke @meetashthere

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az-5-elimgarak · 5 years

Text

#TeamWillow

Fictober19

Type: Fanfiction

Fandom: Homeland (TV Show)

Prompt #24: Patience... is not something I’m known for

Rating: G, No warnings apply

Characters: Peter Quinn, Willow (seizure response dog)

The story and the tags after the break-line. Lemme know if tagging bugs you. Or if you’d like to be tagged in the future. And thank you. ❤

The first time the mystery object brushes against the bottom of his jeans, it barely registers. Given how easily he gets distracted on an average day, he promptly dismisses it as another one of those sort-of-phantom-but-not-really-because-Andy-says-it-can’t-be sensations his affected side whomps up on occasion.

The truth is, he’s just too tired to look down. Fifteen years of covert operations, life in the shadow of days, weeks, even months of sleepless nights at a time, and he can honestly say he doesn’t remember himself feeling as worn to a frazzle as he does now.

Since he started on Prazosin the nightmares have gradually gone away. Not entirely, of course, but he hasn’t had one render him borderline catatonic in months. He’s been doing better. Not great - he’s not sure it’ll ever be ‘great’, or that it ever was, for that matter - but definitely better.

It wasn’t until Kim asked him during one of their sessions if his being ‘busy’ - as in ‘How’s it going?’ ‘Um… Busy, I guess’ - was a good thing that he realized, to his utter astonishment, that it was. That amongst hundreds of briefings, debriefings, missions, drinking himself into a near-stupor between missions, he doesn’t remember a single day that was, simply, busy. And that, even though between his job and the neverending succession of therapy, physiotherapy, speech therapy, and every-other-fucking-kind-of-therapy-known-to-man, he sometimes feels thin, like butter scraped over too much bread (to quote Bilbo Baggins), he wouldn’t trade a single moment of it for the world.

In fact, right now, following a night shift at the Center and a particularly grueling physiotherapy session, he’s going on thirty six hours without sleep. His brain, fretted and discombobulated on a good day, feels like it’s barely holding structural integrity, let alone that of coherent thought. He’d tried to reschedule the interview, even considered giving it up altogether, but, in his condition, passing on an opportunity like this just wasn’t an option.

He struggles to keep his eyes open, not to mention follow the questions that seem incessant - a slow, systematic torture that’s starting to make the infamous 2003 interrogation in an Iraqi prison look more and more like a walk in the park.

“...currently involved in any illegal activity? Or were in the last year?”

Now this piques his interest. “Anyone ever answer ‘yes’?”

“I’m sorry, Mr Hayes. I know this is…” A bunch of meaningless, bureaucratic crap? “...tiresome. And may seem redundant.” No shit. “But I’m obligated to ask. And, if you’re hoping to be in the program, you need to answer.”

“I was not,” he concedes. Not in the *last* year. So not *really* a lie.

She’s right, he knows, this woman across the table whose name, for the life of him, he cannot recall. He needs this. In fact, he should’ve applied a lot sooner. Not just because having a seizure response dog may, at last, allow him to hold a legitimate driver’s license. And not just because it didn’t help his rehabilitation process when six months of work to improve the range of motion in his left arm went down the crapper following a nasty seizure-induced fall that shattered his left humerus in two places. But because if he doesn’t, one of these days the neighbor recruited to check on him several times a day will be too late. At which point, ironically, having survived being shot, stabbed, and gassed, he’ll finally meet his demise on the kitchen floor, drowned in his own drool.

“...the program is very intense, and, as such, can be quite demanding. Training takes time. Weeks. Months, in some cases. We can’t promise you quick results. But we guarantee that, provided you put in the due time and patience…”

Patience… is not something I’m known for.

Hot on the heels of the thought a wave of anxiety follows. He fucked it up. No, not past simple. He HAS BEEN fuckING it up, for as long as he can remember: every chance he was ever given, every iteration of ‘normal’ he ever had. What if…

Breathe, Kim’s voice whirs in his head. He swallows, counting to three before gradually letting the air funnel out. Then again. And once more. Until the numbness washes away and he’s prickling all over. You haven’t fucked THIS one up. Yet. So… shuddup and fucking BREATHE.

“...we highly advise those who eventually qualify make the necessary arrangements allowing them to actively participate in the process. Training an SRD is goal- and need-oriented. We can’t just tell a dog what to do when you have a seizure. And, as you probably know, seizures differ in frequency, type, and intensity. Once the training is complete, your SRD should not only be able to warn you of an upcoming seizure, but also provide assistance, or even call for help if necessary. So, obviously, the training cannot be done unless you’re a full participant for the entire duration of the program…”

There’s that same brushing sensation again. Except, this time it’s not against the sleeve of his jeans but lower, on top of his foot. And it’s not so much brushing as it is… stirring?

He looks down, eyes widening in awe. “Um… Miss…” What *was* her name?

“Yes?

“It’s… There’s a p-p-p…” A sure sign of his brain initiating the shutdown process.

“Problem? Look, I know this all sounds quite overwhelming. But I assure you, if you put in the necessary effort—”

“No. No. There’s a p-p-p…” he motions under the table, unable to stop grinning. “P-p.. small dog.”

With some effort, grabbing the side of the chair with his right hand, he shimmies away from the table. The ball of creamy-gold fluff on top of his sneaker stirs again, sleepily rearranging the tangle of chubby paws around his braced ankle.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Judi! Judi! Why is there… I’m sorry, could you give me a minute? Judi! There’s a puppy in the reception room!”

“That’s alright. I don’t mind,” he tries, reassuringly.

“It’s not that, sir. Judi! I’m so sorry, they’re not supposed to be here. They’re not even house trained yet. Oh my God, did it…?”

Finally, the side door opens and, mumbling apologies, Judi - he presumes - rushes in.

“Willow! My goodness, how’d you get in here, girl? I’m sorry, she’s a bit of a… here, lemme take her. Excuse me… Sir? Could you…? Your foot?”

“Oh. Sure.”

He moves further backwards. His foot, sliding from under the snuggly weight, causes the puppy to roll over with a soft, startled yelp.

The amusedly exasperated “There you are, you mischievous scamp” is followed by an abrupt “No! No! C’mere! Willow, you...! Oh, for God’s sake… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Sir… do you mind?”

Bending down, he awkwardly reaches with his right hand behind his left ankle where what appears to be the feistiest golden retriever in the history of the breed is engaged in an out-and-out battle of ‘catch-me-if-you-can-bitch’ with her irked-out-of-her-mind keeper.

“Gotcha,” he smirks, deftly hooking his palm under the plush belly and emerging from under the table with a wriggling jumble of ears and limbs.

Held in front of his smile-dimpled face, a fierce twinkly-brown stare locked with his steely-blue, Willow lets out the tiniest, most defiant squeal of part-bark, part growl, part something-too-adorable-to-not-have-a-name he’s ever heard.

“Wow. Consider me scared,” he nods, genuinely impressed, tightening his grip as she wiggles harder, earning a narrow-eyed shake of his head. “You just don’t give up, do you?”

Something in his calm, measured tone renders her still for a moment. Moisture-sleek, pitch black nostrils flare. Once. Twice. And then, he feels her go limp in his palm, paws and earls slacking, head cocking puzzlingly to the side.

He lowers his voice. “That’s more like it. Now: care to say hello like a proper lady?”

Slowly, he moves his hand to his face until they’re nose to nose where, following a series of cautious sniffs, his gesture of good will is rewarded with a torrent of slobber so generous and enthusiastic, he’s forced to laughingly gather her to his chest instead.

“There,” he whispers, cradling her in the stiff, motionless fold of his left elbow and soothingly running his newly freed hand from the top of her head to the tip of her shimmering tail. “It’s nice to meet your acquaintance, Miss Willow. I’m Noah,” he adds.

And, for the first time since he was handed his new identity papers, the name he thought he'd never get used to folds on his tongue just right.

______________________

The woman across the desk blinks rapidly, as if trying to decide whether or not he’s joking, and, in case he’s not, which part of the protocol her job is outlined by should’ve prepared her for this.

“Mr Hayes, I’m sorry. But that’s - what you’re asking - it’s out of the question. It just… doesn’t work like that. We don’t - we can’t… you don’t just choose an SRD. At this age, we don’t even know if they have the ability. And even if we did, pairing an epilepsy dog with a potential candidate is an intricate process. There are factors that—”

“That what? I mean, how compatible do we have to be? It’s not like I’m asking you for her bone-marrow.”

She exhales in an attempt to regain her composure. “I realize that, sir. But, nevertheless, there are things to consider. Things that our specialists have been trained to take into consideration. I’m sorry. This is— unprecedented. The candidate can’t just walk in and choose a puppy. Which is why we usually…” shooting an accusatory glance in Judi’s direction, “...don’t even let the candidates see the dogs until one is assigned.”

“Fine. But how about a puppy choosing a candidate?” he quips, pointedly scratching behind the ears of the aforementioned puppy snuggled sleepily in the crook of his neck.

“A pu…? Mr Hayes, you can’t be serious.”

Quinn leans back, tilting his head so as to rest his cheek on top of the plush bundle. “Look. I understand. So, say she doesn’t have the… SRD gene, or whatever makes them qualify. Or we don’t… work together. It’s fine. I mean, it happens, right? Even with the “selection process”, it must happen on occasion. What do you do then?”

Finally back on familiar territory, Christie - it *is* Christie, isn’t it? - nods.

“Sir, we’re a private facility. One of the top in the world, as I’m sure you know. Candidates who choose our services are guaranteed a functioning SRD. Of course, like you say, it’s not an exact science, and some pairings don’t stick. Which is another reason why the selection process should be left to people who are qualified to perform it. But, if the pairing is unsuccessful, we offer a client a chance to repeat the process.”

“Which costs you money.”

“Yes. But that’s far from being our main concern. Like I said, the training program is quite demanding. Doing it twice is not in anyone’s best interest.”

Disregarding her last remark, Quinn presses on. “And the dogs? Those who don’t qualify?”

“Well, they are all purebred, so, we offer them up for sale to individuals or elite breeding houses.”

“There you go. I’ll make you a deal. I get Willow, right now—” Christie opens her mouth to protest but he raises a hand to stop her. “Just... hear me out. I get Willow. And, if it doesn’t work out, for whatever reason, I’ll pay for her. And I’ll pay to repeat the program.”

“Sir—”

“I fail to see the downside. I really do.”

“Well, for one, Willow is too young to be trained. Or even tested. It’ll be at least another six weeks.”

Quinn smiles.

It never ceases to strike him with awe how, sometimes, his fretted, disjointed, swiss-cheese of a brain just... snaps back. As if resetting to some kind of safe point, all of the stroke and sarin splintered parts shift and reshuffle, and, suddenly, every word he needs is just where it ought to be.

“Miss, I’ve applied for the program over six months ago, and have been on the waiting list for the past three. I was diagnosed with refractory epilepsy a year ago having tried every combination of anticonvulsants known to modern medicine; and a bunch of experimental ones. I’ve had two, three, sometimes up to five grand-mal seizures a month for almost two years now. I’m pretty damn sure I can wait six weeks.”

__________________

With Christie excusing herself in order to run the ‘this is highly irregular, sir, it really is, but I’ll see what I can do’ deal by her supervisor, and Judi retreating back to the breeding chambers, the room has grown quiet at last. It’s just the two of them now: Quinn, slumped back in the chair, eyes closed, and Willow, passed out on his chest, her wispy, feathery breaths tickling the side of his throat.

He feels himself melting away, losing cohesion. He could fall asleep like this, his cheek resting against the velvet of flopped ear, fingers buried deep in the thick of her fur. And, given the bargain he just made, he probably should.

Whatever it takes, he thinks, his mind skidding down the slope of exhaustion. Whatever it takes.

Like a pebble skipping across the lake of his memory, he’s suddenly at the Center, chatting with Jessie, last night’s admission: a fourteen-year old turned over to CPS by her case worker following a late night raid the DEA made on her fifth foster home in two years.

“Ok, I can tell you. But it’s like a total spoiler.”

He arched a skeptical brow. “#TeamLannister? A total spoiler?”

“Hey. It’s GoT, alright? Everything’s a spoiler.”

“Fine. Spoil away,” he sighed, tossing her a new set of bed sheets.

She went on to tell him a long, elaborate story of a big battle involving dwarves (or was it just one dwarf), dragons, “dragon-wasting” ballistas, some “BAMF” knight called - he wants to say James(?) - and, well, a “buttload” of other spoilers of which he understood very little; and remembers even less. Not to mention the fact that he never did get the answer as to what #TeamLannister - printed in block letters across her t-shirt - means.

“Hey, we’re a team now.” He nuzzles the wisp of spikes just above Willow’s ear as she stirs and burrows deeper into his neck. “#TeamQuinn?” A snort. “Ok. #TeamHayes?” A sleepy whimper. “What? #TeamNoah?”

Suddenly, there’s Christie’s voice in his head again. “...provided you put in the due time and patience…”

Patience… is not what I’m known for, he remembers thinking. And he shakes his head, smiling. Not something Peter Quinn was known for. Nor “John”, or “David”, or “Nathan”, or any of them, for that matter.

Noah Hayes, though? He chuckles. The jury’s still out.

Jolted awake by the bounce of his chest, Willow emerges from under his chin, big, droopy eyes blinking in sleepy daze.

“Hey you,” he laughs, poking the tip of her nose with the tip of his.

And, as she scrambles higher, curling her head in the crook of his neck with a long, joyful sigh, he just knows: for as long as it takes, wherever this road leads, and whatever the cost - from now on, it’s #TeamWillow.

@valerafan2 @hidingupatreeorsomething @awariasuit @tenar-of-atuan @potter012 @johnlockismyreligion @boisinberryjamarama

#fictober19 #prompt 24 #patience... is not something I'm known for #homeland #homeland fic #peter quinn #seizure response dog #epilepsy #veteran #rehabilitation

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kristallioness · 5 years

Text

Patched up

Summary: Aang brings Katara a very special little patient to patch up.

Word count: 2,436

Author's note: My first fanfic of the year 2019, yay! I'm really proud of this one cause it turned out so adorable! Much fluff with Aang, Katara and baby Kya (please imagine her looking like this). I'm not sure whether/how much I was inspired by that headcanon @thecaroliner shared with me, but it does have a little bit of that in it, only in a completely different context. A really cute context, might I add.

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The midday sun shined through the windows of the best healer's office as she was busy filling in the blanks on the last line in her last patient's file before her break. She paused for a moment to rub her empty stomach when it growled. Katara looked forward to having lunch with her friends and employees after a busy morning as a family physician.

She dropped the pen on her desk and slid the paper between the patient's folder, opening the lowest drawer on her left to place it back in between all the others, which were arranged alphabetically.

A shadow fell upon the floor and she heard three taps against the windows behind her. She figured it might be another bird pecking at the glass. But when Katara glanced over her shoulder, she nearly fell out of her armchair upon seeing how big the bird was. He waved back at her.

"Aang! What are you doing here?"

Appa released a growl once she noticed them. Her husband was flying behind the windows on the top floor of the hospital, specifically, behind the ones that led to her office. Katara could spot their 1-year-old daughter cradled in his arms as well.

She walked to the back of the room and cracked the tall window in the middle open to talk to him. The clock on her husband's memorial island struck noon at the same time.

"Hey there, sweetie! What's up?"

"Umm.. the clouds, me, our baby and Appa. Can you let us in so I can explain?"

Katara couldn't help but laugh at his joke, after which she waved a hand and stepped away from the window to invite them in.

"Of course! C'mon in!"

Aang rarely used that entrance. He'd usually land Appa on the roof and use the staircase going all the way down to the building if he wanted to visit her at work. He would only sneak in through the window if either one of them was in a hurry or it was a serious matter. Or sometimes when she needed him to bring her something from home.

Aang held onto their baby girl tightly so he wouldn't accidentally drop her on the street more than 40 stories below. He gracefully leaped in through the window, using his airbending to soften their landing so the wind wouldn't scatter the items on Katara's desk and he wouldn't make a mess in her office like the first couple of times.

She stepped in front of him and greeted him with a kiss before she turned her attention to Kya, who still had tears streaming down her cheeks.

"What's wrong, baby? Did something happen?" she cooed as she lifted her daughter's chin a little bit to look into her cerulean eyes.

"Yeah. I don't wanna bother you at lunchtime, but we had a little accident."

"Oh no! Is she hurt?"

"No-no, Kya's fine. But.. her mini Appa is not. Show mommy what happened."

The little waterbender inched the toy her daddy was holding in his other hand closer to her mommy's nose.

"Ab-bah bwo-ken!" she exclaimed and continued wailing, hiding her face into her daddy's robes, which had become damp from that spot. Her mommy looked at the long tear running along the line that connected the paw to the body of the plush sky bison. Some cotton stuck out from the opening.

"She kept crying 'wan mama' and wouldn't let me fix it because, apparently, she knows I'm not a healer like you. So I brought you an emergency patient. Sorry!"

Aang gave Katara a goofy grin while she searched for a handkerchief in her pocket and began wiping Kya's tears away, letting her blow her nose into it in the end.

"Aww, my poor baby! Don't be sorry, Aang. It's okay.. Appa's gonna be okay. He just needs a few stitches. Mommy's gonna make Appa all better."

The little waterbender hesitantly handed her favourite toy over into her mother's loving arms.

"I'm really sorry for wasting your lunch hour, sweetie."

"It's okay. I don't mind if I get to spend it with you and our precious little girl."

She pinched Kya's cheek, then took the needle and thread that Aang had brought along for her from home and started sewing the two parts back together while he played with their daughter.

Aang held onto Kya's tiny hands and helped her learn how to master walking, waddling around like a penguin himself while she took steps in front of him. She lifted her feet off the ground and refused to let them back down once she became tired, finding more joy in teetering back and forth.

"C'mon, baby! You're on a roll, just a couple of more steps.."

"Bah!"

"Oh, okay.." he sighed before giving in. She let her father carefully drop her onto the thick carpet under her bottom to take a break.

Kya ran her hand through the furry carpet as Aang sat down beside her and observed what she was busy discovering. Everything seemed so white and clean and there was an unpleasant smell of various herbs all around her. Kya did like the furry carpet since the material felt so soft. Aang grabbed her bare ankle and gave it a squeeze.

"Do you remember mommy's office? We were here a few months ago when mommy gave you an annual checkup."

"Mam-ma?" Kya asked, pointing up at the bed next to them.

"Heh, mama's not sitting on the examination table. Can you find mama? Where's mama?"

She got down on all fours and turned around, squealing once her gaze found her mother's familiar face behind the high table.

"That's right, mama's over there."

The toddler changed course towards her mother's desk, with her father crawling right after her.

"He-he, where are you going? Wait up!"

She moved past the second armchair meant for the patients and crawled through the hole in the middle of the wooden furniture, where her mother's legs were visible on the other side.

Aang played along and wanted to follow her, but instead a loud thud emanated from below the desk.

"Ow!"

"Aang, are you okay?"

Katara ceased her sewing and hurried to his side, squatting down in front of him while he crawled back out.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I guess I forgot I'm not as small as I used to be."

He rubbed at the back of his head while his wife examined his slight injury. He accidentally hit his head against the top drawer since the hole underneath was too small for him to crawl through. He'd just become her second patient.

"Or as young. Show me where you bumped your head."

"Right around here."

She gently palpated near the area with her fingertips.

"Ow! Not so hard! That still hurts.."

"Sorry, sweetie, but now I know where I need to waterbend. Hold still."

Katara summoned some water from one of the two big pots in the corners at the back of the room. Having waterbended the liquid around her hands like gloves, she tenderly placed them over the spot he'd shown her to relieve the pain. She healed the bump in a minute.

"Feel better now?"

Aang patted around the spot and, not sensing any pain, he leaned forward to thank her with a kiss on the cheek.

"Much better. Thanks, Katara!"

"You're welcome, sweetie. Now, let me get back to our previous patient.."

She grabbed his hands to help him stand up, after which she returned to her seat to finish the last few necessary stitches.

"Oh, no-no-no-no-no! Kya, don't touch those! That's mommy's stuff."

The toddler had been busy shuffling through the folders in the open drawer. Katara panicked for a moment and checked, but luckily she didn't seem to have mixed them up. She untangled her fingers from the papers and pushed the drawer shut, releasing a sigh of relief as she plopped back into her armchair, her husband doing the same opposite to her.

The little waterbender peeked up at her mother's desk to have a look at all the stuff she'd displayed on there, including a lamp, some writing materials, a couple of her medical instruments and the patient she was treating.

She waddled over to her mother, supporting herself against her knees and reaching her hands up, waiting to be cuddled.

"Wan mam-ma!"

"Aww, mommy's right here, baby. Upsy-daisy!"

Katara dropped the needle so she could lift her daughter into her lap. She peppered Kya's head with a dozen tiny kisses, which she planted into her short brown hair. She squeezed her just a bit tighter so she could hug her, stroking her back for a minute to soothe her.

"There-there.. I'm here. Mommy's right here."

Kya fidgeted a little so her mommy would loosen her embrace. She grabbed the shiny metallic piece of the long weird necklace hanging around her neck, admiring it with her mouth slightly agape.

"That's mommy's stethoscope."

She didn't understand the fancy word, but she tried to pronounce it by blowing a raspberry, since that's what it sounded like to her. Her parents shared a good laugh.

"Good try, sweetie!" Katara praised, ruffling up some of her hair, which made her baby girl giggle. She grabbed the other end to place the earpieces into her ears. She took the chestpiece from her daughter's hands and pressed it softly on her tunic, speaking in a whisper.

"Mommy uses it to listen to your heart, remember? It goes like this."

She lifted the diaphragm above her heart to demonstrate. Her diamond blue eyes grew wide when Kya grabbed her hand in return, as if she wanted to guide her. Katara chuckled.

"You wanna help mommy listen? Good girl!"

Kya gurgled when her mommy tickled her tummy for a second, after which she allowed her to move the diaphragm over her chest, together. She arched her back and glanced over her shoulder, her cerulean eyes following her mother's hand when she placed the stethoscope on her back, too.

"Who's my good little patient, huh? You are! Yes, you are!"

Kya began giggling when Katara cooed to her in a silly voice and smiled at her. Her mother loved seeing that little gap between her two front teeth and hearing her sweet laughter. Her tiny hands took a hold of her chin to play with her. Katara leaned down a bit to rub their noses together, making her baby squeal with joy. She couldn't contain her own giggling either.

Aang knelt down next to the girls and tickled Kya's chin to get her attention. She let go of her mother's face to grab his own.

"Da-da!"

"That's right, baby. Daddy's here, too."

He shifted further away so she wouldn't start pulling at his beard again. Luckily, she settled for patting his nose and cheeks instead until her mommy finished auscultating her and put the stethoscope away.

"Okay, sweetie, let mommy finish patching up Appa," Aang said as he picked her up in his arms and walked around the desk to sit back on the armchair. Kya's eyes fixed on her fluffy friend undergoing surgery and she pointed a finger at the toy.

"Ab-bah owie!"

"'Appa owie'? It's okay, baby. Mommy isn't hurting Appa."

"What?" Katara wondered out loud while she tied up the loose ends of the thread she'd used to finish the job.

"She thinks that Appa feels pain after all of those stitches."

"Okay, then how about if mommy healed Appa so he wouldn't be 'owie' anymore?" she proposed. Katara waterbended some water over the paw she'd just fixed, pretending to heal the wound she'd sewn back together as if she was relieving the pain.

"Mam-ma goo!" Kya babbled proudly while Aang bounced her in his lap.

"Mommy did good, baby.. Mommy did good," he reiterated and kissed her temple, stroking her back while they watched. His wife bended the water back into the pot and checked her work one last time.

"There, done!"

Katara grinned as she stood up and walked over to her husband and daughter. She handed the toy back to Kya, who screeched with excitement upon seeing her sky bison intact.

"Here you go, baby. I gave it a double stitch, so it shouldn't break anytime soon."

She grazed her daughter's cheek while she had a look at the spot where Appa had hurt himself just to be sure that he was okay. Kya couldn't see the horrible tear anymore.

She gave her mother a blank stare because she didn't know how to say 'thank you', hence she simply grabbed her fingers, shook them gently and babbled something close to those two words.

"You're welcome, Kya. Muah!"

Her mother planted one more kiss into her hair.

"Thank you so much, Katara."

Aang stood up, cradling their baby and her plush buddy in his arms, and gifted her with another kiss on the lips.

"You're a miracle worker."

"Mmm.." Katara hummed in delight, locking her arms around his neck to envelop him and their baby girl in a hug.

"You're welcome."

"We should go now. You still have twenty minutes left to go grab a bite to eat."

Katara released her embrace and stared at the clock on the wall.

"You're right, Aang. That's probably a good idea."

They approached the back of the room, where Katara opened the window again so Aang and Kya could leave her office the same way they came in. He blew the bison whistle and the real Appa came flying in front of the window a couple of seconds later. She watched how he swiftly hopped outside and landed on the bison's head unharmed, grabbing the reins with his free hand.

"I'll see you back home, sweetie! Have a relaxing rest of the day at work!"

"I will. Bye, Aang! Bye-bye, Kya!" Katara said, waving to their little waterbender, who waved back at her.

"Buh-bye, mama!"

Katara waited for a minute, watching how the silhouette of his animal guide grew smaller as the trio flew back home towards the island, before she decided to go have something for lunch. When she spun around to drop the stethoscope on her desk, she saw that her husband had left her a small package there. Her heart melted when she opened it.

"Oh, Aang.. you shouldn't have."

It contained a few slices of blubbered seal jerky, some sweet buns for dessert and a banana. Besides the snack, he'd attached an apology letter to it. She read his handwriting.

"Sorry you had to skip lunch. I hope you enjoy it!"

She'd forgiven him the moment he'd stepped into her office.

#Kataangtag #Kataang #Aang and Kya II #Katara and Kya II #Aang #Katara #Kya II #Appa #ATLA and TLOK #my fanfiction #mine #shards of Kristal

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