Note
Could you do SMAU for Toto Wolff with wife reader where she is a huge bookworm and he always so supportive about her passion And the Internet has gone crazy about it. Thanks :))
Bookstagram - Toto Wolff x BookwormWife! Reader
Plot: Taking a look through your bookstagram and how supportive Toto Wolff is of your love for reading. Encouraging you to pursue your dream of writing.
Credit to multibabydoll for the GIF
You loved reading and books. Before you met Toto, you used to be a bookseller and then worked for a publishing house. You actually met Toto because of the influx in Motorsport Romance's that made your company send you to a race to get some ... hands on experience and you ended up having your own sort of Motorsport Romance with a Team Principle.
You ended up marrying Toto and at first it was hard, but when COVID came and you ended up working from home since then so coming to the races had been much easier.
y/user
Liked by lucyscore laurenroberts and mercedesamgf1
y/user: My reads of the month! Really loved both of these and I can’t wait for book to from Lauren!
Book 1: Things We Hide From The Light by Lucy Score
Book 2: Powerless by Lauren Roberts
Tagged 2 People
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lucyscore: I’m glad you enjoyed this one!
-> y/user: it’s really good!
fan1: i love these!
toto.wolff: Is this the book you were reading on the plane?
-> y/user: Yes, the other one I read at the race track!
laurenroberts: babe! I’m glad you enjoyed! Come to a book signing and I’ll get you a proof of Powerful!
-> y/user: no stop! I’d love that!
DM’s
laurenroberts: Hey Babe, got an event on 29th November, in Florida. You want to come as my special guest?
y/n: id love that! Thank you so much for the invite! I’ll just need to talk to my husband. I’ve never travelled solo and I’m a nervous traveller!
laurenroberts: That’s fine! Just let me know as and when babe!
“Babe, can we talk for a second” you asked your husband as you walk into the kitchen where he is sat with his morning coffee.
"Yes honey what is it?" he asks looking over at you, pushing a glass of orange juice towards you.
"Well, one of the authors that I really like invited me to a book signing.."
"Oh that's amazing sweetheart. Are you going to go?" he says checking his emails not fully paying attention.
"Well, thats the thing. It's over a race weekend... and" you start but his head bolts up to interrupt you.
"You better not be asking for my permission for if you can go, you know you don't have to ask!" he says almost as though he's offended you with think that of him!
"No, no of course not. But I'm scared to go alone, you know how I am!" you explain and he nods remembering the last time you guys flew.
"Well, how about I buy you a nice first class ticket and make the experience worth it. I'll pay for a fancy hotel and a spa evening for when you land ... how does that sound" he grins pulling you into him kissing your forehead.
"You don't have to do that for me!" you exclaim feeling bad!
"Ah no honey, I do this all for you!" he smiles pulling you in for a full kiss.
y/user
Liked by stephaniegarber and ashleyposton
y/n: What do you guys prefer, Romance or Fantasy. I love finding quiet corners at the race track!
Tagged 8 People
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stephaniegarber: Did you enjoy it?
-> y/user: It was so good! I moved straight onto Legend! And Toto brought me OUABH!
ashleyposton: I see those outlines! Thank you for your review on goodreads!
olivia_blake: ahhhh, i hope you enjoy it!
fan1: Y/N is definielty a motorsport romance girlie considering she literally lived one!
->fan2: i forget about this!
"Baby, you have to stop packing so many books!" Toto laughs as he gets out his card to pay the extra bagging expense where your bags had ended up being overweight.
"I'm so so sorry! I didn't realize how many I'd take back with me, American Books are so much more floppy than the ones at home... even though I prefer our covers!" she answers, going to get her card out.
"I'll pay baby don't be silly!" Toto laughs tapping his card as air port staff come over and help you guys take the bags away.
"You are my little book worm aren't you!" he grins pinching your cheeks like an older lady.
"Stop!" you say swatting his hand away.
y/user
Liked by toto.wolff and others
y/n: Toto helped me rebuild my book nook AND took me out for a book haul! It's up on my YouTube now!
Link
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sarahjmaas: looks amazing!
toto.wolff: I'm happy to help baby!
-> y/user: BEST HUSBAND.
You and Toto had spend the day putting up the swinging chair, and making the room cozy with fairy lights.
He had started to organize your shelves in colour coordination order making a rainbow. You felt so bad when your need to have them in genre and alphabetical order took over.
"Baby, as incredible as this looks, I'm never going to find any books!" you argued and he looks and pulled out Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros.
"See I found you current smutty dragon book!" he smiles handing it to you and your eyes widen at the lingo he was using.
"Have you been... watching my videos?" you ask in shock.
"Mmmm yes honey. i find them very amusing!" he admits and you just stare at him in shock.
y/user
Liked by lewishamilton and toto.wolff
y/n: He looks like this so that I can look like this …
I LOVE MY HUSBAND
Tagged One Person
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fan1: shes so unserious ... lmao
fan2: and you look fab!
You were thankful that Toto worked as hard as he did, he treated you all the time and you treated him in return.
Your husband was so supportive and was without a doubt the best thing that had ever happened to you.
Taglist:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul l @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1#formula one#formula one fanfiction#toto wolff team principal#toto wolff fluff#toto wolff fic#toto wolff x reader#toto wolff imagine#toto wolff fanfic#toto wolff#toto wolff x you#toto wolff x y/n#bookstagram
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Promises Made (pt. 1/3)
Part Two | Part Three
Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Reader / Crosshair x Jedi!Reader
Words: 5,234 / 23,314
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, themes of grief/death/mourning, protective!Crosshair, everyone is bad at feelings, this part is at least 50% bickering, smut in part 3
Summary: Crosshair is back, and you're the only one who still can't seem to forgive him. When you finally have the lead you've been seeking since the extinction of the Jedi, you seize the opportunity to escape the constant turmoil his presence causes you. Of course, Crosshair has other plans.
A/N: This is my longest work yet, so I decided to split it up into parts. But if you’re just here for the smut, don’t worry, the emotional edging is worth it! It’s my first time writing Crosshair so please let me know how I’m doing.🤞 Part two will be posted same time next week.
Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist
“I’ll be back before you know it.” You pat Omega’s head, smiling warmly down at the young girl as she clings to you. It hurt to leave her again, but you were going to be gone for a few days at most, not weeks.
Still, her grip doesn’t let up, and her gaze is turned downwards. Things had slowly gone back to normal since you all returned to Pabu from Barton IV, with the exception of Omega’s reluctance to let any of you out of her sight.
That, and how Crosshair had been acting, which was to say he was avoiding you at all costs.
That was fine with you. The others may have forgiven him, but you weren't so ready to let bygones be bygones. You could tolerate being in the same room as him, but that was as far as you were willing to go. At least until you could figure out why you were still so upset.
And it was frustrating, not being able to put your finger on the cause of your irritation. Crosshair hadn't apologized, but you expected as much. He wasn't the type. You had already forgiven him for betraying the team and refusing to come back, but something was still keeping you from completely letting go.
It was unbecoming of a Jedi, you knew that, but you couldn't shake off your resentment.
It didn't help that his behavior was confusing. The day you got back, the others had gone about their usual routine. But not Crosshair. He was more quiet and standoffish than ever, but it didn't seem directed at anyone. It was almost like he was uncomfortable, and not just in general, but with being around you.
You knew he was spending most of his time by the water, though you never saw him when you went out there yourself. Just his rifle, sitting on the rocks.
The others insisted it was a good sign that he was taking the time to process everything. You didn't have the heart to tell them that you could still sense him through the Force whenever you went out, and his unrest was clear. The tremble of his hand, his uneven breaths, his mind racing, all of it.
The only other time you felt him was when you were alone in your room. You were trying to meditate when he walked past. You could feel his eyes on you, could feel him hesitating at the door, before he ultimately chose to move on.
The thought of confronting him made you anxious. You didn't know what would happen, and you didn't know if you wanted to find out.
For now, you just wanted to keep your distance and get your anger under control. Leaving for a few days to take care of your own problems will give you the space you need, and hopefully, things will go back to normal once you get back.
"Omega?" you ask, trying to get her attention. She finally looks up at you, and you see the concern in her eyes. Your heart aches, and you kneel down, pulling her into a tight hug.
“I know,” she finally whispers.
She doesn't want you to leave. But you were.
The mission would only take a day or two, and then you'd be back. One of your old contacts had called in, saying that she had some intel you needed. You didn't have the full story, but that wasn't going to stop you from dropping everything to answer. You'd been waiting over a year for a call like this, and you needed to see it through on your own.
So you kneel, meeting Omega eye to eye. You hold out your little finger, and she sighs, unmoving. You wiggle it, drawing a soft laugh from the girl.
You’d taught her how to pinky swear not long after you rejoined the Batch. It was a sort of tradition between you and your Master, and him and his, and so on.
The promise was more sacred than a verbal one to you, even if it was more juvenile than others. It meant that the person who sealed the deal was obligated to fulfill their promise, or face a lifetime of bad luck.
Of course, you never believed that part, but you liked the sentiment behind the gesture.
"I promise I'll be back," you whisper, "don't finish Spaceworld without me, okay?"
"Okay," Omega mumbles, a weak smile on her lips. She takes your pinky with hers, and the two of you shake. "You promise you'll be safe?"
"Always," you tell her, low and serious.
Hunter watches the exchange, nodding his approval. He doesn't understand the point of the ritual, but he knows enough to know that Omega feels better. And that you'd keep your word.
Your eyes meet his and he nods, silently telling you to hurry and get going. You straighten and turn toward the Marauder, your bag slung over your shoulder, and start off.
Before you can step foot on the ramp, a voice stops you in your tracks, and your blood runs cold.
“You’re leaving?”
Crosshair steps out from under the shadow of the archway behind you, and you spin around. His eyes narrow when you face him, his hands clenched tightly around his rifle. He stands stiff, as though waiting for a fight.
You're surprised by his presence, surprised he's even talking to you, but your expression doesn't betray the shock. Your brow furrows as you regard him, trying to figure out his angle.
“I’m meeting up with a contact for a mission. I won't be gone long. Two days, maybe less, if everything goes according to plan."
You don't want to explain further, and your tone leaves no room for argument. But Crosshair has never been one to listen to what you want.
He takes a step forward, his eyes flitting over to Hunter for a brief moment, before looking at you again.
"Who's going with you?"
You frown. "What does it matter?"
"Who's going with you?" he repeats the question, slower, a hint of anger lacing his words.
You're silent for a moment, trying to figure out his ulterior motive. You didn't want to tell him, but if he wasn't going to give up, it might just be easier.
"No one," you answer, the words spilling out. "Just me."
The second the words leave your lips, you know you've said the wrong thing. Crosshair's expression morphs into one of fury, his jaw clenched, his brow furrowed.
"You’re letting her go alone?” he asks, turning toward Hunter with an accusatory look. You bristle at the remark, the need to defend yourself growing stronger.
Hunter sighs, running a hand through his hair. He glances at you, and you stare back. You were determined to handle this alone, and while Hunter didn't like it, he understood. So you'd made a deal, the same one you made with Omega, that you'd return quickly and come back alive.
He gives a subtle nod, and you return it.
“I’m not ‘letting her’ do anything. She's an adult, she can do whatever she wants," he answers, crossing his arms. Crosshair's head snaps toward him, his mouth open, but Hunter cuts him off, "Besides, she said she could handle it, and I believe her."
Hunter's words should have made you happy, should have filled you with a sense of pride, but instead all you feel is dread.
If Crosshair had looked angry before, he was downright furious now. His expression morphs from shock to frustration, and his glare shifts from Hunter to you.
You're taken aback by the change. Crosshair had never looked at you like that, not even when he left the squad and you behind.
The look is gone before you can question it, replaced by a steely resolve. He stalks past you, his shoulder brushing yours as he climbs the ramp of the ship.
He doesn't say anything else, doesn't even spare a glance in your direction, and you stare after him, mouth agape, until you realize what he's doing.
"Absolutely not," you snarl, stomping up the ramp behind him. You move to grab his shoulder, but he shrugs you off. "You are not coming with me. I don't want or need your help."
Crosshair ignores your protests, dropping into the copilot's seat. He begins going over the controls, his brow furrowed.
"I don't remember inviting you," you snap. "Get out."
"Don't you mean thank you?" He doesn't turn to look at you, doesn't even spare a glance, as he answers.
"I will thank you when you leave," you seethe. You take a step forward, reaching for his shoulder again. You want him out, and if you have to drag him off the ship, you will.
But he's quicker than you, spinning around to catch your wrist. His hand trembles slightly as he holds it, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second before he releases you.
"You're welcome."
He turns away again, focusing on the control panel, and you growl, frustrated. You can feel your anger bubbling beneath the surface, and you know if you don't calm down, it'll spill over.
"Cross," you start, slowly, trying to keep the venom from your voice, "I don't want you to come with me."
"And I don't want you to leave, but here we are."
He doesn't sound angry anymore, doesn't sound anything, really, but his tone still sets you on edge.
"Look, I know you don't like it, but--"
"Then don't go," he interrupts, his fingers gripping the armrests.
You sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was pointless. He isn’t listening to a word you’re saying, and the longer you argue, the longer it will take for you to get off world. If you don’t get going soon, you’ll be late.
"Fine," you hiss, moving to the pilot's seat. "Do whatever you want."
"Good," he replies, his tone sharp. He leans back in the chair, his arms crossed.
You buckle in and begin the startup sequence, ignoring him. You try to focus on the task at hand, but his presence is distracting, and it takes you a minute longer than usual to finish prepping the ship.
He's still tense, and so are you, but the tension is different. It's uncomfortable, the atmosphere too quiet and too loud all at once. Neither of you speak, and the only sounds are those of the Marauder starting up and the distant chatter of the others outside.
You focus on getting the ship into the air, and Crosshair stares at the ceiling. When you've cleared the planet, you set the coordinates and the ship jumps into hyperspace.
The silence continues. You hate it. You hate how tense things have been, how awkward, how strained.
You don't like him, not anymore, and he's made it clear he doesn't like you, but you were stuck with each other now. You were on a mission, and you didn't have time to sit and stew in your emotions.
"I have a job to do," you say, finally breaking the silence. "It's nothing major, just an exchange. Intel for credits. If you're going to come, then don't get in my way."
Crosshair says nothing, and you don't turn to look at him, but you hear him shift in his seat, the fabric rustling.
"Fine," he responds after some time, his voice quiet. "So what are they giving you?"
You glance over at him, startled by his sudden interest, and you're not sure how to respond. He stares back, his face blank, his expression carefully neutral. It's hard to read him, and while you can't sense any negative emotion from him, you don't trust it.
You fidget, wringing your hands in your lap. This was a bad idea. You shouldn't have told him. He was going to judge you for it, or worse, mock you.
You open your mouth to reply, but the words don't come out. What were you supposed to tell him? The truth?
No.
"Doesn't matter," you murmur, turning away from him.
You wish he'd let the conversation drop. You weren't ready for him to know. You weren't even sure if he'd understand.
"It obviously does, or you wouldn't be this worked up about it," he counters. His voice is quiet, but his tone is firm.
"I'm not worked up." You cross your arms, staring out the viewport.
"Sure you're not."
You can practically hear him roll his eyes, and it makes you angrier.
"I'm not!"
"Okay, okay. Just calm down."
"Stop telling me what to do," you growl, shooting a glare in his direction.
"Stop being so stubborn, and I will."
"Why do you even care, anyway?”
He flinches slightly, and you can see his expression soften as you hold his gaze, watching as he searches for a response. It takes him a second, and you observe in real time as the walls go back up, his face morphing into a neutral mask.
"I don't."
"Then stop acting like it," you say, rolling your eyes.
He tenses at your words, and he doesn't respond right away. You think he's finally dropped the subject, but he pushes further, his tone cold. "Why do you need it?"
"It's none of your business."
"You're my business,” he says, quick and sharp.
Then, his eyes widen, and his mouth snaps closed. He's clearly as surprised by his response as you are, and the two of you stare at each other in silence, your heart pounding.
"Oh."
You're not sure what else to say. The two of you aren't friends, aren't anything, but the weight of his statement doesn't go unnoticed.
You can't figure out if he means it.
You're not sure what to think.
"I mean..." he starts, but doesn't finish. He looks away, clearing his throat.
"It's fine," you interrupt, not wanting to make things more awkward. The tension is back, and you hate it, but at least you've reached an understanding.
There's nothing between you, not anymore.
Crosshair's quiet, and you're grateful for the silence. You take a deep breath, letting the air out slowly. You'd have time to unpack that later, but right now you had to focus on the mission. You could worry about him when this was over.
After a moment, he turns toward you, his gaze flitting over your face. He doesn't look mad, and his expression is almost pensive.
Finally, he sighs.
"You're not going to tell me what it is, are you?" he asks, watching you carefully.
You shake your head. "You’ll find out when I get it."
He stares at you for a long time, his eyes narrowed. Finally, he huffs, slumping back in his seat. His resignation is a relief, and you breathe a small sigh.
"I have to ask," you begin, eager to change the subject, "what was the point of that little display?"
He raises a brow, glancing over at you. "Display?"
"With Hunter," you elaborate, "back there. I assume it wasn't just to annoy me."
He smirks, the corner of his lips curling upward. He tilts his head, and you try not to think about how it's the first time he's looked at you that way since everything happened.
"I was mostly doing it to annoy you."
"Of course you were." You roll your eyes. You don't believe him, not entirely, but you didn't doubt that he wanted to get under your skin. It felt like that was all he'd done since the beginning, and it was getting tiresome.
"But," he begins, leaning back, "if I can't talk you out of doing this, the least I can do is make sure you have backup."
You stare at him, unsure of how to respond. Your mouth opens, then closes, and you blink several times. What were you supposed to say to that?
"That's... sweet, I guess?" You don't mean for it to come out as a question, but the surprise gets the best of you.
He rolls his eyes and shrugs, and you're reminded of the old Crosshair.
The Crosshair who used to tease you, to rile you up, just because he knew it would make you laugh. The Crosshair who would sit with you while you studied, who would make you food when you were too tired to do it yourself. The one who loved his brothers fiercely, even if he was a pain in the ass. The one that you, despite everything, missed.
You didn't think he was capable of being like that anymore, but here he was, proving you wrong.
"Well," he says, shifting uncomfortably, "It’s my job to keep an eye on you."
You can't help but chuckle at his reasoning, though there's a hint of bitterness to the sound, and his scowl returns.
"It's not funny."
"Oh, come on," you reply, crossing your arms, still laughing. "It's a little funny."
"Is not," he argues, but there's no heat to it.
You snicker, shaking your head. It's not funny, but it's nice. Normal, even. It's the most normal conversation you've had in a long time, and the most normal Crosshair has acted, and it's almost like things are the way they were before.
"Whatever you say, dear."
The pet name slips out without a thought, and you regret it the second it does. You wince, looking over at him. You hope he doesn't take it the wrong way, but he doesn't seem to notice. He just scoffs, a small smile playing on his lips.
You relax in your chair, letting the tension slip from your body. You'd almost forgotten what it was like, how easy things used to be. It felt good, and you wished you could keep that feeling.
"So," you begin, "are you going to be a good boy while we're there, or am I going to have to watch my back?"
"I'm always a good boy," he replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
You can't help but laugh, and his lips twitch upward, a hint of smugness coloring his features. It's an old joke, and it's ridiculous, but it feels good. You didn't think he had it in him, and hearing his sarcasm again was a welcome surprise.
"We both know that's not true."
"You'd be surprised." He stands, stretching his arms over his head. When he lowers them, he looks at you again, a faint smirk on his lips. "I can be very good, when I want to be.”
He brushes his fingers across your shoulder as he walks past, and the simple touch sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help the heat that rises to your face, and you're thankful that he's turned away from you.
You're left in a daze, your mind racing. You didn't think he was capable of having a civil conversation with you, let alone flirting. And yet here you were, trying desperately not to think about the implications behind his words.
It reminded you of before, before everything had gone to shit. Back when he could make you laugh in just a few words and make you blush with even less. He’d tease and flirt and push all your buttons, and it drove you crazy.
And you loved it.
You thought maybe you loved him too, at some point.
But he had thrown all that away when he abandoned the team. He had tossed aside every moment of laughter and affection and friendship, and he'd never seemed to care. And maybe that's what hurt the most, knowing he'd so easily let go of whatever it was between the two of you.
You'd tried not to think about him, after he left. You'd thrown yourself into the missions, and you'd tried not to look back. The others had done the same, you thought, but when Crosshair came back into your lives, they had forgiven him.
So why was it so hard for you?
The answer was supposed to be easy. You’d been the one he’d tried to kill, after all. But you knew it wasn’t his fault, knew it was the chip. You wanted to forgive him, and in a way, you had, but it still hurt.
Maybe it was because he had hurt you, not physically, but in another way. A deeper way. He had left you. He had abandoned the team, and he had left you behind, and despite ample opportunities, he'd refused to come back.
Or maybe it was because, after all that, after he'd hurt you and the people you cared about, you still couldn't bring yourself to hate him.
Maybe, deep down, you were worried that part of you still loved him.
Your head was spinning. You needed a drink, or a nap, or a distraction.
"Where are you going?" you call after him.
"To make sure Omega didn't sneak aboard," he calls back.
You can’t help but smile, shaking your head. He'd never admit it, but he cared about her. He'd probably deny it to his dying breath, if asked, but you knew better. And as you watch him disappear down the hall, a strange feeling blooms in your chest.
It's warm, and light, and familiar.
And for a brief moment, things almost feel right again.
Crosshair is, for lack of a better word, insufferable. He doesn't listen to a word you say, doesn't follow your directions, and has a bad habit of doing the opposite of what you tell him to do.
He also has a knack for making you feel like an idiot. It was something you conveniently forgotten about during your time apart, and now, you were beginning to remember why you'd fought so much in the past.
And the worst part was, he wasn't even trying to piss you off.
He was just...himself.
"That's not how it's done," he sneers, leaning against the wall. His eyes are on your hands, watching you clean your blaster. You know this game, and you don't want to play. So you do the one thing that always seems to get under his skin.
You ignore him.
You pretend like you haven't heard him, and you continue with your task. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don't look up. He sighs and huffs as you wipe around the trigger mechanism, he crosses his arms as you check the power cell, and you know he's getting antsy.
It isn't until you wet a swatch with solvent and push it through the barrel from front to back, and Crosshair makes a noise of disgust, that you snap.
"What?" you bark, your grip on the weapon tightening. You're not angry, not yet, but you can feel it creeping up on you.
“You’re going to damage the rifling,” he says, pushing off the wall. He reaches for the weapon, but you pull it out of his reach.
"I know what I'm doing."
"Clearly." He rolls his eyes. “If you keep doing that, you’re going to to end up with a misfire or a malfunction, and I don’t think either of us want that. Do you?"
You know he's right, but you don't want to admit it. "No, but—"
"Then give me the damn blaster," he says, reaching out again.
You consider refusing, just to prove a point, but his tone has caught you off guard. He doesn't sound condescending, or mocking, or even annoyed.
He sounds worried.
So you hand it over, and he takes it, his fingers brushing against yours.
"Just let me do it, alright?" he asks, and the frustration in his voice is gone, replaced by something softer.
You nod, watching as he sits next to you, his attention on the weapon. His movements are confident, practiced, and you can't help but notice the way his fingers move as he cleans.
You watch as he sets the blaster aside, grabbing the canister of solvent and a rag. Crosshair's movements are quick and meticulous, and he doesn't miss a spot. What took you nearly twenty minutes to accomplish, he completes in five, and his technique is far more thorough than yours.
“It’s a miracle you haven’t blown your hand off yet," he says, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “If this is what the Jedi were teaching you, no wonder the Empire wiped them out."
Any good will you were feeling toward him disappears in an instant. You bristle, your anger returning, and you glare at him.
"Fuck you."
"Maybe later," he teases, his lips twitching upwards.
You can't decide if his comment was meant to piss you off or annoy you, and you settle for a combination of the two. You're not sure why you expected anything else from him, but the joke hits a sore spot. The fact that he doesn't realize what he's said, that he doesn't understand what he's done, only makes it worse.
Crosshair's smile falls when you continue glaring despite the flush in your cheeks, and you can sense his frustration. He huffs, looking back down at the weapon in his hands.
He's quiet for a long time, his brow furrowed. Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice soft.
"Here," he says, holding the reassembled blaster out, its barrel glistening. It’s the cleanest it's been in months, though you won’t admit it out loud.
Crosshair had always taken great pride in the cleanliness and efficiency of his weapons, and seeing his handiwork in front of you reminds you of simpler times. You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d passed out from exhaustion after a mission or gotten too distracted, only to find your weapons cleaned and ready to go the next morning.
It had irritated you, at first. You hated having your things touched without permission, but eventually, you got used to it. It was nice, knowing he cared enough about you to do such a thing. Though Crosshair always denied it when you tried to thank him. As if it would be anyone other than him.
“Thank you,” you say quietly, and it’s genuine.
He looks at you, and there's a flash of something in his eyes, something softer than the usual indifference. But it's gone before you can decipher its meaning.
“Why do you still use that thing, anyway?" he asks. “It's a piece of junk. Don’t you have a lightsaber?”
You suck in a breath, his words cutting deep. Of course he would bring up the one thing you didn't want to talk about. You should have expected it. You weren't sure why it had never come up, but you should have known it would happen eventually.
He's staring at the blaster, and you know he didn't mean to hurt you, not this time, but the ache is there, nonetheless. The grief sinks in your stomach like a stone, heavy and cold, and your hands shake. You clench them into fists, hoping to hide the movement.
You've gone quiet for too long, and Crosshair knows he's hit a nerve. He turns his attention to you, and his eyes widen when he sees the look on your face.
You're pale, your expression pained. Your mouth is a thin line, your jaw set, and your shoulders are stiff. “No,” you say, your voice quiet. “Not anymore.”
He frowns. He looks confused, and for a second, he almost looks worried. "What happened?"
“I lost it.”
“What?" His voice sounds incredulous, as if the concept is inconceivable. "When?”
You bite your lip, trying to hold back the tears. You'd promised yourself you'd never cry over this again, but it was proving to be more difficult than you'd thought. It hurts, talking about it, and a part of you wants to shut him out.
But another, bigger, part of you wants him to know. Maybe it's a test, of sorts. If he can't handle this, if he doesn't want to hear the truth, then there's no way he'd be able to handle the rest.
“On Kamino," you say, and your voice shakes, despite your best efforts. You pause, taking a deep breath. You close your eyes, and the memories come back, clear as day. "Around the same time I…”
You can’t continue, but the words are there, lingering in the air. The same time I lost you.
His mouth forms a silent 'oh', and the room falls silent. You look at the floor, avoiding his eyes, and he does the same. You're not sure how much time passes, but it feels like hours.
He clears his throat, and the sound breaks the spell. You look up, and his eyes are on you, intense and dark. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, and the apology surprises you.
"Don't be." You shrug, but you can't shake the melancholy that's settled over the room.
"You should get a new one," he suggests.
You shake your head. “It wouldn’t be the same.”
Crosshair hums, and he turns away from you. He picks up the cleaning kit and places it back on the shelf. You watch him, wondering if that's the end of the conversation, and a part of you hopes it is.
But when he turns to face you again, his expression is pensive, and his tone is somber.
He sighs, and the weight of his words hit you, his voice quiet.
“You’re not the same, either."
You swallow thickly, unsure how to respond. You’ve had the same thought rolling around in your head for months, but to hear it spoken out loud, to hear it from him, suddenly makes it seem real.
Because he's right.
You aren't the same, not anymore. You hadn't been since the fall of the Order, since Crosshair left, since you'd lost everything. And you couldn't deny the changes that had been wrought within you, no matter how hard you tried.
"Yeah," you say, and the word is heavy on your tongue. “I guess not.”
You stare at each other, and a moment passes. It's an unspoken understanding, an admission, and neither of you can find the right words.
It's then that you realize that maybe he's changed, too.
And that, for whatever reason, makes you sad.
The silence drags on, and you're not sure if he's waiting for you to speak, or if he's waiting for something else. His eyes are searching, his mouth slightly parted, and he looks almost nervous.
Your heart pounds in your chest, and there's a pressure behind your eyes. You want to say something, but you can't think of anything. You're not sure if the urge is to comfort him, or comfort yourself.
You're grateful when you can feel the the hair on the back of your next prickle, a sign of something shifting in the Force. It's a distraction, a welcome one, and you take the opportunity to break eye contact. You stand to make your way to the cockpit, holstering your blaster as you go.
When you reach the door, you pause, glancing back. Crosshair is still standing in the middle of the room, his head tilted in your direction. His eyes are fixed on you, and he looks almost sad.
You swallow thickly and force yourself to speak. “We should be there in a second."
“How do you—“
He’s interrupted by the subtle lurch of the ship dropping out of hyperspace, and his confused expression turns to one of exasperation.
You smile, just a little, and Crosshair scoffs.
"Show off," he mutters, following behind you.
#tbb crosshair#crosshair x reader#the bad batch#tbb crosshair x reader#the bad batch crosshair#clone x reader#the bad batch x reader#roy writes
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Write a smut with a Bini member 😅
Cherry (Not) on Top
BINI Aiah x Male Reader
tags: smut
A/N: Taglish (mix of English and Filipino language) fic incoming, since Aiah is a Filipina. I've been planning this one after the Sana fic and even before this request because of @octoberautumnbox 's piece. I might post another version of this in full english. Anyway, hope you'll enjoy this one. Completely unedited.
~ ~ ~
Past lunchtime, you just arrived at your front door. A mix of light pink and white pair of sneakers were left before your doorstep; there's no doubt, Aiah Arceta—your girlfriend—is inside.
"Aiah? Babe? You here? Where are you?"
"Oh babe, you're already here! Nadito ako sa kwarto," Aiah replied, "just trying an outfit for the Bikini Ball."
"Bikini Ball?"
"Yup, it's a summer and charity event at the same time. All winners will get to choose the community they want to support. Have one in your mind?"
"Hmm... 'di ko alam. May I enter the room first?" you asked, "I want to see you."
Aiah always loved that about you—asking for her permission despite being with her for years. Knowing almost all of her sides, and still chose to stay. Those little things matter to her the most and finds it sexy.
The door opened, and it did not disappoint what it revealed. Floral bikini top, paired with chainmail skirt that covered her intimate area and right leg, exposing the other. She almost gave you a heart attack as you didn't expect to see her wearing that fit. That midriff, well, yeah, it's fucking sexy and turning you by the second.
"I know that look, mister!" Aiah jokingly exclaimed, "Tingin mo pa lang hinuhubaran mo na ko, tss..."
"Can you even blame me? I just got home from work past noon time, not having my lunch yet, tapos ganito makikita ko? I think you're the one having bad intentions here, Ms. Arceta," you confidently remarked, "but I'm not going to complain, though."
"Hmp, pervert!"
"But kidding aside, you're absolutely stunning, babe," you said in a serious tone, "parang gusto tuloy kita bantayan sa event. I can't afford knowing that those men will be preying on my woman, my Queen."
Aiah almost burst into laughter, "You're thinking too much! Calm down, babe!"
"Tell that to my junior down here."
"Oh, so mas nauna pa sya magalit?"
"Don't be so sure, Aiah..."
Aiah came closer to you, placing her palms on your chest sensually rubbing it up and down. "So, Daddy's getting mad at me?" she said, giving a sultry look with her fierce, expressive eyes while both forefingers fidget on your shirt.
"Damn, Aiah..."
Aiah gave a quick kiss on your lips, before going down on her knees. Eyes still locked on you. Aiah took her time to unzip your pants, delighting herself to touch firm muscles you have in your legs, sending chills going up to your spine.
"You're already leaking, daddy..."
A small patch was visible on your briefs, before finding itself on the floor. The look that Aiah has on your cock was turning you on even more, making it twitch. She noticed it but just grinned.
Aiah worked on her magic, as usual. Her tongue started its assault on your balls; licking, slurping both of it with utmost passion and desire, while holding onto your thighs.
"Puta! Fuck, ang sarap! Shit!" you exclaimed, holding her head with your hand as a reflex.
Aiah wasted no time going from your balls to your shaft. Giving the underside a slow lick before reaching your head, parting her lips before wrapping her tongue around it.
Moan after moan, Aiah is skillfully giving her all blowing you. Taking every inch bit by bit, until your entire length is inside her warm, wet mouth.
She's taking all her time, bobbing her head up and down in a growing, steady pace. "Babe, ugh, fuck! Putangina!" you groaned, pleasure meter growing inside you exponentially.
That intense feeling is growing, and you know you're about reach the promised land. But Aiah had other plans.
"A- Aiah? Why did you stop?"
She stood up, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, inching her way towards you ear, "Hindi pwedeng ako lang ang kakain, eat me down there, too, daddy."
She quickly removed the skirt before pulling down her panties, making a trail of her sticky juice before entering the bedroom where she lied down, her hand inviting you.
Getting off from your clothes in a swift motion, you joined Aiah on the bed. Taking a moment to appreciate her beauty, your eyes roamed from her head down to her toes. Perfect. The sweet perfume she got from you last Christmas was the only thing invading your nose at that moment.
Aiah's legs were already spread out, her puffy lips soaking wet. "Ano pang hinihintay mo, babe? Please, 'di na ko makapaghintay, I want you so bad, I want to feel daddy now!"
The Queen should not be kept waiting. Getting into position, your tongue immediately collected her sweet nectar. Tracing every nook and line of her folds, thumb on its way to stimulate her clit. Aiah's mouth agape to the sensation your tongue does to her, even both of you were each other's firsts, she knows no one can do this but you.
"Oh- oh, shit, yes. More. More pa, daddy, please!"
Hearing the words of affirmation made you more fired up. A finger went inside her as you continue to assault her clit with your tongue, lick and sucking it in intervals.
Aiah's body can't stay still, her hands grabbed the sheets but you couldn't care less. You need to make her cum, even she begs you to stop. The finger inside her did its work like a key to a keyhole, hitting all the right spots. You knew she's close.
"Hnnngghhhh! Babe! Malapit na 'ko! Make me cum! Fuck!"
With one last stroke, she squirts; moaning madly while her body's twitching. "Shit, oh my God...," breathing heavily.
"Mas masarap ka, Aiah, pero hindi pa tayo tapos. I wanna fuck you right now."
"Yes, please fuck me. Wreck me, breed me, gawin mo lahat ng gusto mo sa'kin, I want to feel all of you. Please me, daddy!"
Primal instinct took over. You positioned yourself right into her entrance as you pinned her wrists down before giving her a messy kiss, tongues invading each other's mouths like first time before breaking it.
"Papasok na ko, Aiah," you said, her response was just a gentle nod as you pierce her pussy with your cock. Missionary position was her favorite. Aiah finds it romantic yet hot. That's why you always do it for her.
Your hips gets into motion, pounding her still sensitive pussy. "Hmmmm... yes, ang sarap, sige pa. More! More pa, please... Ahh!"
Aiah's sweet yet dirty pleas are all you need to go berserk. Mercilessly drilling her hole, creating lewd sounds. But it didn't matter. What matters is Aiah's face distorted and eyes almost blank due to extreme pleasure. As if it's her soul slowly leaving her body. But the same truth also goes to you, as the pending release earlier is turning now into reality.
"Aiah, ma- malapit na ko. Fuck," barely letting out the words. "Sige lang, don't hold back! Cum for me, daddy!"
"Aiah!"
The last two forceful thrusts marked the end. Ropes and ropes of cum painted Aiah's pussy, milking you out at the same time. Making sure she does every drop before kissing you slowly; it's a kiss expressing the love she has. A message. A promise. She broke the kiss and just maintained eye contact with you.
"I love you," she noted.
"I love you, too. Maraiah Queen Arceta."
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What's One More?
Mike Schmidt x AFAB! Reader
Summery: The house is all to you and Mike, which is a strange feeling to Mike as he begins to realize how things are changing. But change isn't always a bad thing, is it?
Tags: Porn with plot barely, no use of Y/N, Reader has female pronouns, set after the events of the FNaF movie, pre-established relationship, breeding kink, dirty talk/talking through it, oral sex (fem recieving), face fucking, vaginal fingering, pet names, possessive sex/actions, marking, hair pulling, mentions of drinking, multiple rounds, aftercare, multiple orgasms, teasing, dumbification, overstimulation, this is possibly filthier than Princess imma be fr.
Notes: Yes I'm working on requests. Yes I'm working on part II for 'Easy Money.' Yes I'm working on 50 million different projects + writers block that's preventing me from posting as much as I'd like. But in the meantime, *rattles can* COME GET Y'ALLS DICK.
▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎
The front door opened at the same time it does everyday, Mike slipping in quickly to evade the cold, bitter Febuary air that has turned his cheeks red while he called out his usual 'hello' to the house. His easy smile instantly appeared as soon as our eyes met, me standing at the stove giving the large pot of chilli its final stir just in time for his arrival home.
"Hey!" I said cheerfully, looking up from the boiling pot briefly before setting the lid back down, crossing the floor quickly to come collect his coat.
"Hey," he returned, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to my cheek as I undo his buttons, his hands coming to rest on my silk covered hips. "Never seen you in this before," he mumbled, pulling away slightly to get a better look.
"You like?" I ask, pushing the jacket off of his shoulders and folding it over my arms. "I've had this since freshman year. Found it in one of my boxes from the move." The robe is simple, thrifted but It'd been new when I'd gotten it. Emerald green and made from silk, if not silk like material- I'm no expert on fabrics, -reaching down to my ankles and showing off my curves, drawn tight around my waist to accent my figure. Simple floral patterns sewn into the collar decorate the robe, slightly darker than the rest of the fabric. His eyes wandered over my body, taking in the sight as he slowly removed his items from his pockets.
"You look nice," he said, almost sounding as if he was in a trance.
"Just nice?" I tease.
"The word 'motherly' comes to mind," he said. "Not- not in a weird way," he quickly added, blushing slightly. "Just- you cooking, dressed in that. Just kinda...." He's flustered, scratching at the back of his head as he tried to clarify what I already understand.
I smile at him, leaning closer. "Well, it's fitting," I teased.
It had been about a year since I moved in. Mike and I had met during a night out, our friends recognizing each other. Initially I thought the blonde he had been with- Vanessa, I would later learn, -had been a bit more than a friend. But after spending the night round a table, laughing and getting up one by one for drunken karaoke, Mike and I had made eye contact enough times to warrant my request for his number after I confirmed she wasn't.
"Seriously?" He asked when I'd passed him the notepad specifically meant for numbers that I kept in my purse.
"Yeah," I'd laughed, slightly- okay, maybe more than slightly -drunk. "You're hot."
I was three beers and one shot of straight tequila into the night when I'd asked, everyone beginning to debate who would call a taxi and who would ride with who. I felt rather confident.
His eyes narrowed, his cheeks red most likely from alcohol. Although he'd only had the one beer.
"Oh shit," I giggled stupidly. "Did I read things wrong? Because I thought-"
"No! You didn't," he quickly said, cutting me off. He scribbled his number down quickly, scratchy enough that I could barely read it, and he could sense that.
"You want me to write it again?" He asked sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.
"Maybe," I giggled. "Or I can have my friend ask Vanessa if I get it wrong."
I got it wrong. Twice. But that was my fault since I called as soon as I'd gotten home, bleary eyed and claiming to just be checking to see if he got home alright, which wasn't a total lie. Then he asked if I wanted to get Chinese the next day. And how am I supposed to say no to an offer like that?
When he first brought up his sister I think he expected me to run for the hills. God, no. Not a man committed to caring for his baby sister. Please.
When I'd met the girl she was sly, simply saying "Oh, you're who he won't talk about." Mike seemed ready to throttle her, and I was ready to step in and help take care of her however much they needed me to. Who could say no to a kid like that?
Three years in and Mike had been nervous asking for me to move in. We'd both had the idea, but we both were terrified that the other would immediately shoot it down. But it was almost ridiculous to worry about such a thing. Mike had visited me all the time with Abby in tow, I visited Mike. Eventually we were at the point that I was at his house more often than I was at my own apartment. And with Abby getting older and beginning to have a life of her own, one that I could tell Mike was anxious about her having, it was about time a serious talk be had about the future of our relationship.
"You know, married couples have better taxes," I said casually one day while huddled around the kitchen table, papers strewn all over the place and some even on the floor while I punched numbers into a calculator. I think that nearly killed Mike, who shot out air through his nose hard enough all of his coffee covered his face and hair.
Then a week later he'd flipped through channels lazily, commenting on how awful the channels were before landing on the one of the marketers selling jewelry for prices that could make you shit.
"That's a nice ring," he commented. "Don't you think?"
I looked up from my book, narrowing my eyes to focus my vision. "Ooh, it is," I agreed.
"What kind of rings do you like? Like, what's your favorite?" He asked.
"Subtle," I deadpanned, smiling. "I'm coming with you to pick it out."
We picked up a new set of housekeys first.
"Get a room," Abby groaned, wandering in to flop onto the couch.
"Don't flop, you'll hit your head," Mike and I both scolded, smiles growing as we heard the other. Abby simply groaned louder, rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, that's punishment enough," I muttered, giggling slightly. I moved to the coat closet, hanging up Mike's jacket. "How was work?" I asked him.
Mike shrugged, leaning against the wall. "It was good. Long. Shop gets cold this time of year," he said.
"Well, dinner will help. It's done, by the way. Timed it just right," I said with a wide smile. Mike returned it, stepping closer to wrap his arms around me once more and say a soft 'thank you' before pressing his lips to mine.
"Seriously, a room," Abby groaned.
"There's one right there with a table that needs set. Go on," I said to her, gesturing towards the adjacent room. She rolled her eyes once more, getting up off the couch and grumbling as she made her way to the cabinets.
"Wow," Mike chuckled. "She's got attitude."
"She's fourteen, we should be lucky she hasn't killed us in her sleep," I said into his ear, laughing.
"Don't you mean ours?"
"No."
The dinner is nice. A scene right out of a book, all of us gathered around the table eating the warm food as we discuss our days, Mike and I shooting each other glances here or there when we think Abby, who's in the middle of some long story neither of us are truly able to give our attention towards, won't notice. Eventually his hand found mine under the table, grasping it gently and squeezing as I hold his gaze, smiling in the same idiotic manner he always brings out of me.
"It's tonight. I know it's short notice but all of my friends are going and her parents will be there," Abby said quickly, inturrupting our mental conversation with her pleading eyes.
"Wait a minute, back up. What's happening?" Mike said, blinking and refocusing.
"The sleepover," Abby said emphatically. "I didn't find out about it until today and my friends invited me. Can I go?"
Mike opened his mouth to respond, his eyes worried and glancing over to me.
"Who is this?" He asked.
"Lisa."
"Lisa?"
"Lisa Browning," I reminded him.
"Oh. And this is at her house?" He asked.
"Yes," Abby moaned in frustration, clearly impatient for her answer.
Mike and I glanced at each other. His eyes are unsure, looking to me for my thoughts.
"She visits them all the time, I don't see why not," I said. I turn to Abby. "Is her mom picking you up?"
"She can," Abby said quickly.
Mike is still unconvinced, I can tell by his grasp on my hand.
"You have that phone we bought you for Christmas?" I asked her. She nodded. Since recieving the cheap, purple Motorola she hadn't let it out of her grasp. "If you go, will you call us when you get there, when you guys are going to sleep? Any location change you'll run by us first?" I asked. Abby nodded again, her eyes shifting to Mike once more, wide with teenage desperation.
It was hard for Mike watching her get older. It would scare any parent, but take a man who'd watched his brother be kidnapped and his parents wilt away leaving him to step up? There were days Mike would wake hyperventilating, terrified something would happen to her if he didn't do something. It took convincing, but over time I had convinced him to relax, told him she was smart. Once I'd told him all the trouble I'd survived, he finally learned to catch his breath before jumping into several questions about how I was still alive with a new panic.
With a squeeze of my hand, he nodded.
"Check in. If you don't, I'll call her mom."
"Unnecessary, I'll call," Abby said, leaping from her seat and already dialing a number.
"Wash your plate!" Mike tried to tell her, but she was already gone.
"I'll get her plate, let her go," I chuckled. Mike sighs beside me, wiping his face with his hand.
"You think she'll be okay?" He asked me.
"I think fourteen year olds spend their days watching scary movies and MTV, nothing she won't do here," I said, taking a spoonful of chilli into my mouth. After I swallow I add, "Besides, it gives us the chance for some alone time."
That solidified the decision in his mind.
Much to Abby's embarrassment, Mike reminded Mrs. Browning to have Abby call us to check in, and with her reassurement he finally relaxed, walking back into the house once they're out of sight.
As I finish drying the dishes, I feel his hands settle on my hips, warm and large as he sinks his head into the crook of my neck.
"Where did the time go?" He mused, moreso to himself than to me.
"Feeling old?" I teased.
"Yes."
"Hot."
"Shut up," he groaned, laughing into my neck.
"'Oh my God, get a room,'" I groan in a fake voice, my laughter joining in.
"Are we gross?" He asked, wrinkling his nose.
"A little," I concede. "I mean, imagine how you're gonna feel when she brings home a boyfriend."
At that his eyes widen and he groans. "I don't wanna deal with teenage boys," he moaned, pulling away to lean against the counter in front of me.
"Oh, they're coming. Just you wait. I was this age when I got my first boyfriend," I warned him.
"Teenage boys are idiots," he said.
"Teenage girls are terrifying," I add. At that he nods, eyebrows raised in agreement. "Oh, she could bring home a girl instead!"
"You know what, I'd prefer that. Less trouble actually," he decided.
"You'll survive," I tell him, shaking my head as I set the dish inside the cabinet with a small clatter. He sighed, smiling to himself in thought.
"I remember when she was a baby. So tiny," he said softly. "You should've seen her. So cute. Smelled good, too."
"You've been smiling at babies a lot, you know," I teased, shutting the cabinet and putting away the dishcloth. "Something on your mind?"
Mike blushed, waving his hand. "Nah." He paused. "...kinda," he admitted. I chuckled. Every time we'd passed a couple our age walking through the store with a baby in tow, Mike was instantly softened. His usual automatic glare giving way to a little smile as he'd wave at the tiny human, maybe even making a face to make them laugh. It'd been entertaining when ones mother once caught him with his cheeks puffed out and eyes crossed, the baby letting out a huge shriek of laughter at the sight. He hid in the soup aisle for awhile after that while I tried not to cry from laughter.
"We still have plenty of Abby's old baby stuff in the garage, you know," I said. It wasn't a new conversation, we had both agreed it was something we wanted when the time came. "Spare room, stable jobs, great sex."
Mike's wide eyes watched me as I slowly trailed closer. "Good genetics," he mumbled.
"I don't see any reason we couldn't put any use to those things," I mused, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and leaning into him.
"I can't tell if you're serious," he said, his eyes narrowing.
"Even Abby would like it. Said we're taking forever as is," I said cooly. He laughed at that.
"No she didn't," he said.
"She did!"
"Abby, the one who can't even see us in the same room without threatening suicide?"
"Listen, babies are different," I laughed, shrugging. He eyed me carefully, looking me up and down before saying anything.
"You'd like that?" He asked finally, wrapping his arm around my waist.
"I'm living in your house, wearing a ring and making dinner for you and your little sister that I've been helping you raise for four years. What is one more commitment?" I asked.
"It's a human being," he pointed out.
"Oh, fuck that then. None of those shits are gonna live in my house," I deadpanned. He laughed, leaning in to catch my lips in a kiss.
"Be our human being," he said softly.
"That means it'll be funny," I said just as soft.
"It could have your eyes."
"Could have your nose."
"Yours is better."
"You're right."
He smacks my ass gently, chuckling as his eyes darken pleasantly. "Should we give it a try?" He asked, his voice low and rough in my ear.
"I'd say it's about time you asked."
Mike hiked me onto his shoulder, carrying me through the house and pushing open the door to our room as I giggled wildly, feeling the bed underneath of me as he flung me down, fingers searching for the ties of my robe.
"You're sure about this?" He asked, eyes watching me carefully. "This isn't just some sex thing?"
I laughed, feeling him struggle with the knot.
"Not a sex thing," I clarify. "Although admittedly hot. Do you need help?"
"The fuck did you do to this thing?" He asked, laughing but brows furrowed in frustration. I reached to pull on the string and give it one simple tug, making it come undone to reveal my simple underwear underneath.
"I like coming home to this," he said, his voice deep and husky. "You look so comfortable here. So perfect. House is so much brighter with you in it. Just so perfect."
His lips wander on my chest, first working on the valley between my breasts, his teeth nipping at the band of my bra. He tugged it upwards, snapping it against my skin harshly. A soft moan escapes me, and I allow my legs to fall open to offer him better access. He takes the opportunity, settling his body perfectly against mine as his lips begin to trail upwards to my throat.
"I love waking up next to you in the morning. I sleep so much easier with you here, feeling your breath against me as soon as I wake up. You've got creative methods to keep me up too when I don't want to be," he teased. His hands find my hips, squeezing them as he thrust our clothed hips together, making us both groan. "Are you already wet?" He asked me, nipping at my throat.
"Gotta have something to think about while I cook," I teased. He chuckled. His lips find purchase and begin sucking on my skin, creating a dark mark on the front of my throat that will only be properly covered by a sweater. I moaned slightly louder, rocking my hips slowly against his. His lips moved slightly higher, creating another, then repeating until a dotted line of dark hickies lay upon my throat, marking me all the way to just under my chin. As he sucked on the edge of my jawline, I let out a high pitched whine, digging my hands into my own hair as I tried to not rush through this.
"You sound so pretty like this," Mike said against my skin, his breath warm. "Only thing prettier is how you look." His warm hand cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking my cheekbone softly.
"Talk to me," he said softly, staying still aside from the gentle stroke of his thumb. His eyes are soft, black in the dim lighting from his blown out pupils. He looks so sweet, so ready to please. If I said the word he'd do anything so long as it made me happy.
I cup his face with my hands, pulling him towards me to capture his lips in a soft kiss. His lips are warm against mine, wet from his own spit from creating the dark marks against me. He moaned softly, his tongue swiping at my lower lip to ask permission for access. I grant it, parting my lips slightly and gasping as his tongue quickly slides in, deep in my mouth and dominating the kiss as his grasp on me tightened. It felt as though he was desperate, like a dying man trying to experience his last contact with another human being ever in his life. I tried to return the kiss with as much frenzy, but his hands on either side of my face, his grasp firm yet careful, his hips pinning me to the mattress made my mind begin to slip into a world of pleasure, not able to focus on anything except how good it felt to not be in control.
I could feel his breathing through his nose, still kissing me and exploring my mouth. It lasted a minute, two, three. When he finally pulled away, several gossamer threads of spit still connected us, disappearing into thin air as he looked down at me, his hand carefully stroking my forehead.
"I'm going to ask one more time," he said carefully. "This is your last chance. After this I'm not checking," he stressed. His breath is hot and heavy against me, and my hips roll against his in an attempt for friction. "Are you one hundred percent positive?" He asked, his eyes wide and eager as he placed carefully kisses along my cheeks. I nod quickly, desperate for more. Mike shook his head, pulling away slightly.
"Say it," he said. "Be clear."
I blushed, suddenly feeling shy for no real reason. "I'm completely sure," I said gently. "I want this."
"This as in sex or a kid?" He asked.
"Both," I answered.
"You're completely sure? Because if you want to back out that's completely-"
"Michael, I swear to fucking God if you don't hurry up and fuck me I'm gonna get you pregnant, see how you like-"
Mike scrambled off the bed, grabbing my ankles and pulling me roughly to the edge. I let out an involuntary yelp, giggling as he spread my legs wide and high, his lips and teeth pressing against my left ankle before quickly trailing downwards, biting and sucking quickly as he moaned wantingly.
"Eager?" I asked him lightly. He shoots me a look, biting down particularly hard on a spot almost under my knee before beginning his work on the inside of my thigh. His hand trailed up and down my right thigh, grazing his nails against my skin to make me shiver while he focused his mouth on the other.
"You taste delicious," he moaned, teeth sinking into my thigh as his nails dug in harshly, raking down until his hand came near my hips before raking back up to my knee. "Whatever soap you're using, keep using it."
I blush, moaning gently. My hips rolled towards his head, making him chuckle.
"Be patient," he chided.
"I am patient," I said defensively.
"Since when?" He asked, biting down on a new spot. I moan again, squirming against him as I felt a surge of warmth shoot from my head straight to my cunt. "Anytime I so much as look at you, you beg me to fuck you."
"That's not true," I said. His hand slaps my thigh, grabbing it roughly as he bit down once more, lower.
"Made me fuck you on the table last night just because you couldn't focus on your book," he tisked. "Now you're making me fuck you because you want a baby."
"You want one too," I reminded him.
"I want anything with you," he moaned against my skin. "Especially anything that makes you mine."
My hands stretch above my head, my fingers woven together. Mike's eyes caught on something, staring at my hand as his mouth drew closer to where I wanted it.
"Your ring looks so pretty," he moaned. "Love seeing you wear it. So glad I bought it. Love seeing people notice it on you."
"Yeah?" I asked. I tried to squeeze his head with my thighs, but his hands keep me open, even spreading my legs wider after my attempt.
"Remember that kid at the bar?" He asked, chuckling. The 'kid' in question had been in college, clearly drunk as he leaned against the bar next to me while I'd waited for Mike, who'd watched the interaction curiously from the window outside, asking if it hurt when I fell from heaven. A simple flash of my ring and the response of having someone catch me before I hit the ground sent him stumbling away to disappear once more into the crowd. "Poor fucker looked so disappointed," Mike said, sucking a dark spot into my thigh, making me squirm and throw my head back in pleasure.
"You like being possessive," I teased him. His hand smacked my thigh once more.
"I'm not the one who came and shoved her tongue down my throat when the bartender got a little too flirty for her taste," he said. His eyes sparkled, fingers massaging the spot tinged red from the abrasion.
"I did not shove my tongue down your throat," I said defensively.
"You pulled my hair like I was a bitch," he laughed. His hot air blew against my clothed cunt, making me gasp from stimulation. He picked up on this, blowing cold air against me before saying "She was just trying to get tipped."
"I know," I moaned. "I'd had a couple."
Mike licked at my covered pussy, flattening his tongue wide against me as he licked a long, hot stripe from bottom to top, sucking at my clit through the wet cotton once he reached it. I moaned into the pillow beside me, muffling my cries. His hand reached up and snatched it from me, throwing it off the bed as he repeatedly licked, gaining speed as his dark eyes watched me.
"Okay, maybe we're both possessive," I conceded, bucking my hips against his face. He hummed happily, his large hands cupping my asscheeks and lifting my hips higher off the bed as he squeezed the cool flesh.
"I like it," he said. "Like that I won't even have to do anything to show you're mine now after this."
I feel my stomach flutter at his words, a blush dusting my cheeks.
"It may take a couple tries," I tell him.
"We've got all night," he said breathily.
"Until Abby calls," I reminded him. He groaned at that. "She's not gonna call, we both know that," I laughed.
"Not my problem right now," he said. His fingers hooked around the band of my underwear, pulling them away from me harshly. "You are."
"A problem?" I said in mock offense. "Well, I guess if that's what I am, I'll take my goods elsewhere." I huffed haughtily, twisting away from him and turning onto my stomach. The motion helped Mike bring my underwear to my ankles as I began to crawl away. He tugged them off fully, then grabbed my ankles once more to return me to the edge of the bed. I yelped once more, grabbing at the sheets and dragging them down with me. Mike spread me open once more and immediately shoved his tongue as deep inside of me as he could, holding my hips up and legs open as he tongue fucked me in earnest. I cried out, grinding my hips against his face. I clutched a pillow to my face, crying and even screaming into it when his lips wrapped around my clit, sucking harshly at just the right spot to make me cum with barely a warning. Mike had been pleased as punch when he figured out just the right angle the very first time. It was his favorite, throwing me into orgasm without any preparation to strike me dumb and overstimulated. There were times he'd focus on my clit for what felt like hours, tugging and licking to figure out what made me cum the fastest, the hardest, sometimes even managing to make me paint his face, and once his hair. He grinned so wide I almost thought his face would split open when he accomplished that.
He pulled away from my cunt for just a moment, his voice deep and commanding. "Let me hear you," he said. He buried himself in my cunt once more. I could feel his jaw moving, his bottom lip moving against my clit as his tongue slipped in and out, creating lewd, nasty noises that filled the air. I moaned into my pillow, hardly able to think. His hand smacked my ass hard before he pulled away once more. "Don't make me ask again, woman."
I raised my head to say something, but the words escaped me as I felt his tongue dive in once more, curling to scoop my slick into his mouth. He moaned at the taste, his hand roughly grabbing at my ass. All that spilled from my mouth were long, broken moans as I fucked his face, gutturally pleading for more. He flipped me onto my back roughly before spreading the lips of my soaked pussy apart, attaching his lips quickly and sucking at that perfect spot. I screamed, shrill and high as though I'd been stabbed while he giggled in excitement against me. The vibrations of his voice against my clit sent me higher, my head digging against the sheets as my back arched high away from the bed. My hands slapped against the bed, my legs trembling as I rode his face. Lost to the world, Mike is the only thing that grounds me, his fingers gently tracing patterns against the insides of my thighs while he watched me come undone with nothing but love and pride in his eyes.
He didn't relent, releasing my clit to lap up my glistening cum eagerly before returning to the bundle of nerves, flicking his tongue against it before sucking it once more, bringing me back to the same edge as I begged for mercy.
"Gonna scream, gonna scream, gonna-" my harsh whispers turned into a scream once more as I cum again, my hands finding his dark curls to force him to stay against me, my hips grinding harshly to fuck my clit into his mouth properly. His eyes relaxed, looking completely lovesick as I muttered rapid praises to him, tugging on his hair hard enough to make his eyes water. He moaned seemingly with no control against me, face red as he obeyed with no complaint.
"So good," I tell him. "Taking me so well. Letting me fuck your face like I own you. Fuck my face."
I felt his fingers find my entrance, slipping two inside of me with no hesitation as cum dribbled out of me. I clenched around his digits, my voice breaking as he massaged my top wall, searching inside of me to help me find a new peak. He moaned against my clit, eyes wide and begging for more as he watched me carefully. When his fingers brushed against that perfect spot, the one that makes me fall silent, he knows he's struck gold. His fingers begin slamming into my g-spot, curling and fucking me until I screamed out one more time, my body going limp as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. It's like I speak in tongues, the only language I'll probably ever be able to speak again after what he's done to me. I shake terribly as he sucks a few more smaller orgasms out of me, milking me for all I'm worth before pulling away, standing tall and chuckling as he slipped his middle and ring finger into his mouth, cleaning them with his tongue. His face and chest are covered with me, the shine of his gold ring dulled from the dried cum. He pulled his soaked shirt off of himself, flinging it into a corner before walking around to the side of the bed, gently sitting down next to my head to stroke my forehead.
"You okay?" He asked gently, smiling proudly. I moan in response.
"Need some water?" He asked, leaning closer to press a kiss to my cheek. I can smell myself on him, thick and heady. I moan again, trying to nod but unable to. "Maybe a snack?"
At that I grab at him, pulling him closer to press his lips against mine. He allowed it, humming happily against me as he gives me a gentle kiss, loving and careful as though I could break easily. I probably could.
I whined when he pulled away, but I'm instantly sated as he scooped me into his arms, pulling me against his chest to rest us properly against the headboard of our bed. He leaned over to open a drawer on his nightstand, pulling out one of the water bottles we kept in there. Carefully he moved me into a better sitting position, then opened the bottle and held it against my lips.
"Drink," he said softly. I accept it, gulping the cold liquid as my senses begin to return to me one by one. "Good girl."
Once I finished he placed it on top of the nightstand, then held me to his chest once more to lay against the bed.
"Good warm-up?" He asked me.
"Not entirely sure that didn't do the trick right there," I said. My voice is rough, threatening to break with each word. Mike laughed loudly, his chest rumbling against my ear.
"That good?" He asked, smiling widely.
"I'm ruined for anyone else," I told him. His fingers grazed my jaw, tilting my face to meet his eyes.
"Good."
His lips are gentle as they guide me back into a kiss. It's me who deepens it, grabbing the hair at the nape of his neck, silently pleading for him to continue. He takes the hint, one hand holding the back of my neck to keep my mouth close, the other trailing down my chest, fingers making quick work of the clasp on the front of my bra. He pushes the item away, cupping my right breast gently as his thumb gently strokes across my nipple, making it harden underneath his calloused touch, making me gasp.
"So sensitive," he remarked, smirking. "Could do anything to these and you'd be my willing bitch. Such a pretty girl."
I moaned eagerly into his mouth, tugging at his hair and pressing my chest against his touch. He adjusts my body, guiding me to straddle his lap properly as he guided the robe off of my shoulders, letting the material fall to my elbows. He pulled away from the kiss, admiring the hickies adorning the column of my throat.
"So pretty," he mused. His finger trailed from under my chin to the valley of my breasts, then back up again. "Do you know how pretty you are?"
"You tell me every day," I laughed softly, blushing. He hummed, his arms moving to support my upper body as he leaned me back.
"Doesn't mean you know," he said. He sucked new dark spots onto my chest, continuing his trail until it ends at the bottom of my ribcage. "Dressed so pretty for me, wearing nothing under your pretty robe. Keeping yourself easily accessible like the pretty girl you are."
It was easily his favorite nickname for me, calling me 'pretty girl' more often than my own name. Sometimes I think he only calls me by my name just to remind me he does know it, although I won't lie that I'm disappointed when he does it. The first time he called me by his favorite name was the first time we had sex. He was balls deep and panting, desperate for air as he pumped in and out of me. I think it had slipped out by mistake, based on the way his eyes widened after he said it. He was so shy in the beginning, his inexperience obvious but not damning. It was cute.
His lips trailed from the bottom of my ribcage until he found the bottom of my left breast, accenting it with little marks wherever his mouth landed.
"You want my cock?" He asked me, breath fanning over my breast. I nodded eagerly. "Use your words," he reminded me.
"Yes please," I said quietly. He laughed against my skin, nipping close to my nipple.
"Aw, she has manners," he said sweetly. I groaned, rolling my eyes. "Don't be a brat." He chided at my response. I smiled at him.
"Or what?" I asked innocently.
"Or I'll find something else to do," he said.
"Like?" I pressed.
"Like fuck myself until there's nothing left for you to take," he said smugly.
"You're no fun."
"I'm very fun, that's why you're going to behave."
"It's more fun if I don't."
At that he latches onto my hard nipple, biting and lavving his tongue over it while moaning greedily, watching me through his dark lashes as I leaned back, pressing my chest against him as much as I could, rocking my hips against his as I lost all other thought.
"There she is," he said, his voice low and gravely. "There's my girl."
He layed me down gently, spreading my legs wide open for him. He undid his jeans, taking out his cock and stroking it while he admired me from above.
"Tempted to just watch you," he said, his hand slowly trailing up and down his throbbing length. "You look so perfect, all red and dazed."
I whined, reaching for him and wrapping my own hand around his cock, stroking him at a slightly faster pace.
"There you go," he crooned. "Get it ready."
I pumped with more vigor, watching his face as I felt him twitch under my grasp. Deciding he was satisfied he gently grabbed my wrist and pinned it above my head, then guided himself to my entrance.
"How do you want me, sweet girl?" He asked softly, smiling above me.
"I don't wanna remember my own name," I said quickly. "If I can walk across this room by the end of it, you need to try again."
He raised his eyebrows, smiling down at me. "Eager?" He teased.
My response is a sudden moan, my cunt clenching around his thick cock as he sinks into me, burying himself to the hilt and making me feel as though he'll split me in two.
"You're tight," he groaned in my ear. "You want it fast?"
"Yes."
He grabbed the back of my knees, pressing them to my shoulders as he pistoned in and out of me rapidly, moaning at the feeling of my cunt swallowing him eagerly, clenching at every vein, every inch, slick and desperate for his seed.
"It'll take better like this," he moaned. His jaw is slack, panting as his balls slap against my ass, heavy and making me clench with each thrust. "Been thinking about this so long.'
I tried to respond, but all that escapes me are the tongues from earlier, moaning gibberish as all I can focus on is him fucking me into stupidity.
"You'd look so pretty with a baby on your hip. My baby," he groaned. His tip finds my g-spot, making me cry out loudly.
"Right there," I chanted quickly, eyes rolling to the back of my head.
"Yeah? That the spot?" He asked. "Can you hold this knee for me, baby?"
My body automatically obeyed, quickly holding one of my knees right against my body as he moved his hand to settle on my lower stomach, pressing down as he fucked me hard enough to make a small bulge whenever he slammed his dick fully into me.
"So cute," he praised. "Such a pretty fuckin' pussy. You know that?" I moan, my vision and thought completely fucked.
"I keep telling you to use." Thrust. "Your." Thrust. "Words." His third pointed thrust tears a scream from my throat, making him smile. "Does this sound like a suggestion? Because I promise you that it's not."
"I have a pretty pussy," I moaned without second thought. My voice is soft and frail as I chant the phrase over and over, not stopping even as he cooed sweet praises in my ear.
"Gonna look so pretty with my baby," he said. The smacking of our skin is loud, echoing through the room with each new thrust. "Maybe I'll give you another." His balls stick to my skin, tacky from my cum that drips out of me onto the newly washed sheets. "Just keep giving you my kids until I can't anymore. God, I hope this fucking takes."
I'm still chanting the phrase, stupid and willing to do anything so long as it means I will be rewarded with his cock. He smiled down at me, his eyes fluttering shut as my pussy swallows him whole again and again.
"Need you to cum baby," he said, his voice strained. "It'll take better if you do."
"I'm close, Mikey," I whined. It was a nickname I only used in times like these, too stupid to say his name properly.
His hand shifts lower on my belly, thumb snaking down to rub tight circles onto my hard, pulsing clit.
"Gonna make you mine. Gonna make you a mother." He is completely lost to the world, eyes shut in bliss as his thrusts grow deep and shallow, making me begin to grow quiet as I focus on my orgasm. "Jesus Christ, I love you."
A loud cry escapes me as my muscles contract around him one final time, hard enough I can tell it almost pushes him out of me completely. At the feeling of such a strong grasp Mike comes undone too, painting the inside of my cunt a pretty, pearlescent white as he unloads right next to my cervix, burying himself as deep as he can before resuming his pace with newfound vigor, moaning with every new thrust.
"Again," he moaned. His chest presses against mine, our bodies intertwined into such a tight mating press it's hard to tell where I end and he begins. "Wanna make sure it takes. Wanna make sure it takes."
I can't help but laugh in pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of my head as I nodded happily, taking as much as he was willing to give me.
"I'm not gonna last long," I said, the overstimulation already turning my face red as I felt the knot in my stomach begin to tighten once more.
"Good," he growled. "I'm not gonna stop until I fucking break you."
His words send me over the edge again, my voice louder this time as I begged him to break me, to fill me, to-
Much to our immediate frustration, it turns out Abby did remember to call, making Mike yell into the bed in frustration before he slipped out of me to race to the living room, making quick work of the conversation before almost slamming the phone down in excitement, rushing down the hall once more to return to the immediate task at hand.
"Where was I?" He asked me, mischief sparkling in his eyes as he quickly climbed back on top of me.
"You were telling me you want like six kids right before damning the one we're already raising," I teased, smiling.
"Well, maybe not six," he admitted. He glanced down to my aching cunt, admiring the sight of our mixed cum leaking out before sliding his dick back inside to plug the hole. "But what's one more?"
¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤
This was fucking filthy. I have no apologies. Take your problems up with God, he's the one who put me on this earth.
Taglist:
@jhutchissupercool @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support! <3
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#josh hutcherson#josh hutcherson fanfic#mike schmidt#mike schmidt fnaf#jhutch#mike schmidt imagine#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt smut#mike schmidt x reader smut#mike schmidt fluff#mike schmidt x you#mike schimdt x reader#mike schimdt smut#mike schimdt x you#mike fnaf#josh hutcherson x you#josh hutcherson x reader#josh hutcherson fnaf
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heyy hope you’re gonna take this request, can you write something about canon kuroo confessing?
No time skip please. Like with a female reader which doesn’t act in love with him like the rest of the girls, she’s not pick me or stuff like this.
So Kuroo can do nothing but finally talk to her because he can’t stand the fact that she’s different from other girls.
I can’t really picture canon Kuroo confessing, that’s why I’m asking, I really like your writing!
Thank u so much
Notice me Please!!!
Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader
— Summary: He has his eyes on you, but for some reason you don't look back.
— Tags/Genre: Fem!Reader | Fluff
— Warnings: None!
Kuroo drums his fingers impatiently on his desk, and with one hand resting on his chin, he stares at your figure across the classroom. You seemed quite entertained listening to music, which he has no idea what it is, but that sight makes him feel something inside him.
Frustration. He admit that he can't stand seeing you like this, because you're never like that when he tries to talk to you, and that made him feel a kind of jealousy, even if it was for something inanimate.
Every time you talked to him, you seemed indifferent, almost as if you were uninterested. Damn, why don't you look at him with the same twinkle in your eye when you're listening to something on your stupid headphones?
It's been a while since Kuroo started to have strong feelings for you, your heart skips a beat every time you pass each other in the school hallways, with Kuroo always looking back when you pass by him. But he never revealed that to you of course.
And no matter how many bad jokes or flirtations he told you, how many little gifts he left in your locker or on your desk in secret and then hinted that he was the one who left them there, it seemed like you never cared about his desperate actions for your attention.
At first, he thought this was just the way you acted, that you were more shy and reserved. But then he noticed the giggles you had with your friends, how talkative you seemed to be around them.
Now he thinks the problem is with him, that maybe you hate his presence, or just don't care about him.
He is a relatively popular person at school. His volleyball team reached the Nationals, which gave great prominence to all the team members, especially him. So it's no surprise to hear girls gossiping about Kuroo in the hallways.
To tell the truth, he didn't care much about it, sometimes he would even tease Yaku for having more fans than him, but that was it.
The only person he craves attention from is you.
But he doesn't know if you feel the same way, or at least care about his existence.
So that's why today would be the day he would bring the whole truth to light. His only option now would be to confess to you. Maybe it was a last choice made out of desperation and doubt, but he can no longer bear your indifference towards him.
Your club activities are over, so you can finally go home after a tiring day of boring classes and uninteresting people.
Now, you were walking towards the school exit, but you soon stopped when you saw a certain boy with a peculiar hairstyle standing at the gate, almost as if he was waiting for someone.
You figured he was waiting for Kenma to go home since they were best friends, so you didn't care much about it and continued walking to the exit.
"Hey, [Name]!"
A familiar voice calls you. And as you turn to the side, you see Kuroo walking towards you, waving at you.
"Let's go home together, shall we?" you look around, and then you look at him again, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you going with Kenma?" "He said he needed to go somewhere else to buy a new game, something like that. And since I'm alone... I thought about going with you."
He gives you a smile that would make anyone fall in love immediately, but it never seemed to have any effect on you.
You looked at him with an enigmatic expression, almost as if you want to read him through his actions and words. "Um, sure." You say as you adjust your backpack hanging on your shoulder, soon starting to walk, with Kuroo by your side.
Your house wasn't that far from the school, but in the situation you were in, it felt like an eternity had passed since you left the school gates and started walking.
Neither of you exchanged a single word, except for Kuroo who was humming some random song.
"Y'know..." he says after a moment, which made you direct your gaze to him, who was still staring at the path ahead.
"I once heard you listening to this song. You turn your music up so loud that anyone who passes by can hear it coming from your headphones." your expression changes to one of surprise.
"S-Seriously? I never realized that..." you laugh awkwardly, looking away to the floor.
"Yeah... but it's not because of music or headphones that I called you to walk with me." Kuroo stops walking unexpectedly, making you stop too.
Looking back, you notice his expression is more serious, almost as if he is a little nervous.
"Actually, there's something I wanted to talk to you."
His tone of voice seemed to have changed too, which left you confused, or even a little nervous, as much as you didn't want to admit it.
"I...like you, [Name]." As he uttered these words, it was almost as if a weight had been lifted from the boy's shoulders, his previously tense posture allowing himself the luxury of relaxing, even if for a brief moment.
However, the opposite seemed to manifest in you. Previously unconcerned about what this simple walk would offer you, it was almost as if your breath was suddenly caught in your throat. Your heart soon feels like it's leaving your body, hammering in your chest in a fast, nervous rhythm.
"Huh?" you say in disbelief at what you heard. Shock quickly turns to annoyance, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. "Look... don't think this kind of joke is funny, because you won't hear me laugh about it."
"Joke? Why would you think that?" Kuroo says this right after with a nasal laugh.
He walks closer to you, and you instinctively step back, until your back is in contact with a large tree that was close to the sidewalk. He stops right in front of you, and looks at you with a touch of doubt, almost as if he had heard something incredible.
"Why do you think I would make fun of something like that? You- my feelings for you... would never be a joke to me." he says with an affectionate tone, his eyes softening for a moment as he maintains eye contact with you.
"Maybe this could have been just a challenge your friends arranged for you, like in those cliché movies." your tone conveys sarcasm, but with a touch of bitterness "Or maybe some pretty girl rejected you, and is now looking for solace in anyone even remotely close to you..." "Or even-"
Your words are cut off as you feel Kuroo's lips land tenderly on your cheek. His hand reaches out to cup the other side of your face, and the other lands on the tree behind you, pinning you there.
"I like you, [Name]." he whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "And I will tell you this until you can't prove otherwise."
Kuroo takes his hand off the tree and takes your hand, then looks at you seriously. "And I mean it."
You feel your cheeks heat up, but you quickly compose yourself, and a small smile appears on your face, but this time it's genuine.
"Hmm, so you want to win me over, huh?" you push yourself away from the tree, placing your free hand on his shoulder. Your sudden closeness makes Kuroo surprised, making him suddenly feel shy.
"Only words won't convince me... you better work hard for it, Tetsurou." you move away from him, and start opening your backpack, looking for your headphones.
You give a small wave to Kuroo, but without turning towards him, focusing only on the path in front of you.
Dumbfounded, Kuroo waves back, his cheeks dyed with pink in embarrassment.
"Thank you for accompanying me, but I can go on my own from here." You say as you fit your headphones onto your head, putting on a random playlist that you made in honor of your little crush, who is definitely not Kuroo Tetsurou (it is).
— A/N: Uh........hi........I'm back.............
First of all, I want to apologize a thousand times to whoever sent me this request, I'm really sorry it took me SO LONG to post this. In addition to apologizing to everyone who follows me here, for not having given any sign of life for more than a month....😭
I really don't have a real excuse for doing this other than a total of 0 creativity and several hours of my life in hell (school), so I really needed to take this time for myself, until I felt more comfortable coming back here again.
I'm currently feeling quite creative artistically, mainly because I'm watching MHA again (which I'll probably bring here on my page) and also because I'm reading the Haikyuu manga. Plus, I passed pretty much every subject at school, so I don't have to worry so much about grades.
So...I'm officially back now!! I apologize again, and in compensation for this, I am already writing 3 more new things for you (2 are from MHA😜😜🤪); and I also won't open requests until I finish writing these, so stay tuned!!
#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu oneshot#hq#hq x reader#hq fluff#kuroo fluff#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo tetsurou x reader#haikyuu x fem!reader#haikyuu x female reader#kuroo tetsuro x reader
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Responsibility 🔞🖤
**Minors DNI! This is content for adults only! To read my SFW works, please see my masterlist.**
Summary: You’ve always had a hard time asking for help when you need it, and it doesn’t seem to get better as time goes by. Luckily for you, Hoseok knows you well enough to know when you need pampering.
Tags: Dom!Hoseok, Sub!Y/N, minimal plot, established relationship, dollification, safe words established, she calls him owner, PRAISE!!!!!, nonverbal sub space, oral (m. recieving), multiple orgasms (f. recieving), breeding kink (I didn't even mean to put it in this fic I swear but I can't fucking stop myself anymore send help), aftercare!!!, light angst (oopsie ✨), fluff at the end.
Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t do that obviously lol)
W/C: 3970 (3.9K)
A/N: Hello everyone!! Sorry I disappeared once again, I just realized the last time I posted here was in NOVEMBER???? For the amount of BTS x Y/N writing I do it doesn't add up... I have been in a veryyyy big writer’s slump ALTHOUGH I have made some really good progress with a bigger series I hope to get out to you guys soon! These last few weeks have been a bit rough for me, so here is something a bit chiller with my beloved Dom!Hoseok x Y/N.
You’re in one of those moods again where everything feels too much.
It’s not necessarily your fault, but you’ve always had a hard time asking for help when you need it, and it doesn’t seem to get better as time goes by. You’ve known this about yourself for a long time, but you can’t help but get trapped in it.
It starts for you with a big project at work. You only volunteered to help out because no one else did, and it led to you being given more responsibility than your payroll even calls for. Initially, you tried to back out of it and make excuses, but your boss pushed forward with his own agenda and you never could. Now, you’re stuck doing work that isn’t really even yours without extra pay and with significantly more stress.
You’ve regretted it since the start, but you thought you’d be fine until today.
Today, you made a small mistake and your boss chewed you out for it in front of everyone. It wasn’t even a big deal, but your boss was in a bad mood to begin with and you just happened to be the person in the line of fire. But that small incident flared up something inside you—a deeply rooted fear of not being good enough.
And now, you find yourself plummeting down a rabbit hole of negative self-talk that really has nothing to do with work or anyone else. It has to do with you.
“What are you doing spacing out?” Hoseok’s laugh jolts you out of your thoughts. You look away from the TV, where your boyfriend is smiling warmly down at you. “Had a long day at work?”
You purse your lips. You don’t really want to get into it. It’s a bad habit, but you don’t like to drag Hoseok into your negativity. He has enough stress at his own job. “No, just tired.” You lie, getting off the couch.
“Y/N.” Hoseok says your name, wrapping a hand around your wrist. His voice is low, worried. You avoid his eyes. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“Nothing, I’m just tired.” You lie again, but you know Hoseok can see right through you. Of course he can, after all these years together.
You take a quick shower in the ensuite bathroom of your shared bedroom, then step out and run yourself a bath as a treat after a long day. You smile to yourself at the array of different bath bombs Hoseok keeps stocked for you, picking out one with a candy-like scent for tonight.
You drop the bath bomb in the water, watching it fizz and turn the water a shimmery baby pink. You step back in, sinking down into the hot water with a sigh. It’s not enough to take away the negative thoughts in your head, but it does take the edge off.
You’re almost dozing off in the bath when the bathroom door opens. Hoseok steps inside, then closes the door behind him. “That smells so good.” He comments, taking a seat on the closed toilet lid beside you.
You smile. “Yeah.”
The air is still slightly tense between you. Hoseok watches your face for a moment, then smiles. “This scent is nice, isn’t it? I’m glad I listened to the salesperson.” He asks, rolling up his sleeves. You wonder what he’s doing when he leans in and begins to massage your shoulders. “You’re too tense, though.” He comments under his breath.
You look away. With one small touch, Hoseok breaks down your walls. “Don’t deserve it.” You mumble.
“Don’t deserve what, sweetheart?” Hoseok asks gently, his thumbs now working into the dips of your collarbone.
You shake your head, feeling overwhelmed. “Everything. Don’t deserve your touch.”
“Is that so?” Hoseok asks in a low, patient voice that sends heat to your core. You know exactly what he’s doing, and although you want it, you can’t let yourself have it. You try to push away, to reach for the tub’s stopper and drain the bath away. But Hoseok stops you with a firm hand over your wrist. “I’m not done yet, sweetheart.” He warns you gently, pushing you back against the tub.
Hoseok’s eyes flicker down to your cleavage, but he doesn’t touch you there yet. He can still see the hesitance in your eyes, the self-doubt that makes you fear submission to him. “It seems like you have a lot of thoughts in your head right now. Would you like me to give you a break, to let me do all the thinking? And you get to relax, just like a pretty little doll?” He purrs, causing you to rub your thighs together.
In the low light, Hoseok’s eyes glint with satisfaction at the effect his words have on you. “Oh, you would like that. Unfortunately I need to hear a special word before I can do that. Does my pretty girl remember what that word is?”
“Candy.” You murmur.
Hoseok beams, running a hand through your hair. “Good girl.” He emphasizes, making the fire in your belly burn brighter. “What a gorgeous doll I own.”
You gasp softly as Hoseok’s hands move down to cup your breasts, toying with your nipples. “Owner.” You whisper.
“Yes, doll?” Hoseok replies easily, continuing to rub the now-hard nubs.
“It’s cold.” You whisper. By now, the hot water has become lukewarm and you’re starting to get chilly. Hoseok hums, leaning in to kiss your breasts.
“Is that right?” He coos at you. His hands move down your torso, then part your thighs. You whimper as Hoseok plays with your clit, then drags a finger along your entrance. “Hmm…Feels nice and warm here though.” Hoseok makes an expression of fake-confusion, then slides a finger inside. You whine, gripping his forearm with both of your hands.
Hoseok chuckles, then kisses your forehead. He cups your mound, looking directly at you as he does it. “I don’t think I want to get my clothes wet. Let’s get you up and dressed.”
With that, Hoseok pulls the stopper. You watch the water drain down, until you’re left sitting in the empty tub. Hoseok stands, then puts a hand under your chin, guiding you to stand. His eyes move down your naked body, full of controlled lust. He has you step out of the tub, then picks a towel off the shelf. “So wet.” He chides, taking your hand in his and drying each finger diligently. You watch him as he carefully works his way up your arm, then dries your armpit for you. He repeats the motion on the other side.
Then, Hoseok pushes your chin up, expecting you to look up. You obey. He dries off your neck, then your collarbones. You whine as he takes his time with your breasts, thumbing at them through the towel. “So, so wet.” Hoseok chides, then pinches one nipple. “This is why pretty things like you are hard work. If owner forgets to take good care of you, you become so messy. Isn’t that right, doll?”
“Yes, owner.” You murmur.
Hoseok lightly guides your chin down, allowing you to look at him again. “But messy girls are fun, too, because then owner has fun cleaning you and setting you straight.” He says, forcing your thighs apart to dry off your inner thighs. You purse your lips as he takes his sweet time drying your thighs and calves. Hoseok smiles up at you as he wipes off your feet. “It’s been so long since I got you a mani-pedi. I should do that, then take you out and get you some outfits. We can stop by a jewellery store, too. TIffany’s? No, maybe Cartier would be better.”
You listen quietly as Hoseok talks to himself, appraising your body as he does. You’re not meant to voice your opinion for things like this—you’re meant to take what he gives you. You let Hoseok turn you around, then begin wiping down your back. It’s mindless, but that’s the point. To submit, to gratefully take what you’re given. But you can’t help the nagging voice in your mind. “Don’t deserve it.” You mumble. Hoseok’s hands pause.
Hoseok scoffs. “How can a doll know what their worth is? What, are you some kind of AI?” He comments, continuing to work at you.
“Deserve punishment.” You mumble. “I’m bad.”
Hoseok hums as if he agrees, then puts a hand on your ass. You flinch and he notices. “Do you think I’d play with a bad doll?” Hoseok whispers, his voice dangerous in your ear.
You answer immediately. “No, owner.”
“That’s right!” He says cheerfully, turning you back around. Taking your face in one hand, Hoseok grins at you, but warning flashes in his eyes. “My doll doesn’t get punished. My doll is a good girl who listens and takes what I give her. Has owner been slacking in pampering his doll that she’s forgotten who she belongs to?”
“No, owner.” You repeat.
Hoseok looks displeased. You feel the urge to cry, hating his displeasure. You want to be good, but you don’t feel good enough!
Hoseok takes your hand and guides you into the ensuite closet. Still naked, you stand with your hands clasped as Hoseok (still fully dressed) opens a bag at the back of the closet, one you’ve never seen before. He pulls out two pieces of lingerie—one is a simple pair of white silk panties, and the other is a white, translucent babydoll with a small white bow in the middle. Without asking if you like it, Hoseok comes over to you and lifts you up onto the island in the closet. He puts the panties on you first, then the top. “So pretty.” He says, then rubs your cheek proudly. You preen at his touch.
Hoseok brings you to the bedroom next, sitting you down in front of your vanity. He hums to himself as he picks up your comb and brushes your hair. He decides to do a French braid tonight, then ties it in place with a little bow hair tie at the bottom. You both know it won’t look like that soon. “Such a pretty thing.” He praises you, eyes boring on you in the mirror. He taps your lips once, and you open your mouth. Hoseok spits in your mouth, then settles a hand on your throat. “Swallow.” He orders, then beams as he feels your throat bob from swallowing.
The dom reaches between your legs again, moving aside your underwear as he slips a finger into you again. By now, you’re much wetter. Hoseok laughs, then holds your face in one hand, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. You watch your own helpless face as your dom fingers you with amusement on his face. “So weak. Is this all you can take?”
“Owner, owner—” You whimper, putting a hand on Hoseok’s arm as he slips another finger inside.
“What, now you remember who owns you?” Hoseok asks, reaching down with his free hand to rub at your clit. He laughs at your fucked out face. “Dolls can’t come without permission. You should know that by now, sweetheart.”
“Owner, please, please let me come, please—” You plead.
“Five. Four.” Hoseok counts you down. You bite your lip, trying to hold back. “Three, two, one, now.”
Your whole body shakes as Hoseok works you through your orgasm. You feel come drip out of you, wetting your panties and the chair underneath you. But you don’t care at all, not with Hoseok murmuring praises in your ear. “What an obedient little cunt, just like I trained you. It’s like you were made to belong to me.”
You whine. Hoseok has you stand up, turning you half-sideways. You look in the mirror as the dom runs his clean hand down your hair gently, then rubs both hands over your hips. You breathe in sharply as you meet Hoseok’s eyes. He smirks, then digs his hands into your asscheeks, slightly spreading you. “What a messy girl. Only took two fingers and you’re all shiny down here.” He laughs, running a finger over your inner thigh, where your pre-come coats the skin.
“Owner.” You mumble against Hoseok’s collarbone.
He beams. “Yes, my doll?”
You both know what you want, but you can’t bring yourself to ask for it. It’s not your place to ask him to fuck you, since you’re meant to let him do as he pleases. So instead, you just press yourself in against him, placing your cheek against his collarbone. Hoseok knows what you mean without saying it. He presses a kiss to your hair, then presents his left hand—still covered by your juices—to your mouth and sticks his thumb in. You suck obediently, looking directly at your dom. “Such a useful mouth.” He purrs. You let out a small sound at his praise. Hoseok withdraws his thumb, then switches to give you his index and middle fingers. As you do that, the dom meticulously straightens your hair, ensuring not a hair is out of place. Finally, he gives you his ring and pinky finger to lick. You don’t miss the emerald and diamond ring on his ring finger—ensuring to get your juices out of every crevice around the ring. Hoseok’s jaw tightens at the sight.
The dom intertwines your hands, then brings you over to the bed. Using his free hand, he pulls back the covers, then guides you under. You watch Hoseok grab the TV remotes and return. You glance at the hard member in Hoseok’s pants as he sits in bed next to you. Knowing what you’re thinking, Hoseok pulls his pants and underwear down in one go—revealing the hard, leaking member. “I wonder if that movie is out yet…” Hoseok says to no one in particular, pretending to be interested in finding some movie. Without saying a word, Hoseok entangles a hand in your hair, guiding you down toward his member under the covers. Your breath sharpens at the feeling of being used to pleasure him as he watches a movie, just a little thing for him to control.
You start to lick from your position at his side, but Hoseok frowns at you. Your eyes widen. Have you done something wrong? “Hmm…” He says, then reaches down and hooks a finger into the hip part of your panties. Using them, he pulls you down so you’re sitting on his calves. He lets go, then returns the hand to your hair. For added effect, he tucks the covers in around you, leaving just your head up for you to suck him off. You whimper, loving the feeling. You’re his toy, his doll.
You begin sucking Hoseok off, doing your absolute best to please him as you work at him with your mouth and cup his balls with your hands. Hoseok runs a hand through your hair gently, idly, like he’s barely paying attention when you know he couldn’t care less about what’s on screen. Even like this, you know you’re his priority.
You lick the slit of his member and Hoseok hisses. “Oh, that’s it.” He praises you, tightening the hand in your hair slightly. “What a good girl. So useful.”
You moan, accidentally pressing yourself down against his calf. Hoseok notices immediately. “Is my doll getting restless? Is me playing with your mouth not enough?”
“No, owner. I-I’m grateful.” You protest weakly.
Hoseok’s eyes glint dangerously. “Yeah? Then why are you rubbing yourself against my leg like a puppy in heat?” He sits you up, bringing you onto his lap. You purse your lips as Hoseok feels how wet you are again with his hand. “Good girls don’t hide their feelings, sweetheart. You know that.”
“Yes, owner.” You say, looking at him through your lashes.
Hoseok tsks. He slots his thigh between your legs. You sigh as he pushes up against you, loving the feeling of his hot skin against your aching clit. “If it feels good, you need to show me, sweetheart. Now, look at me and show me how good it feels. And don’t look away.” He orders. You swallow. Hoseok settles a hand to the back of your neck, holding you firmly. You slowly begin rubbing yourself against his thigh, looking directly at your dom. Hoseok watches you intently, ignoring the movie playing in the background. The lust in his eyes is illuminated by the changing colours from the screen.
Your desperation mounts embarrassingly fast with Hoseok watching you rub yourself against him. Knowing that, Hoseok taps your chin, indicating for you to open your mouth. You take his thumb in your mouth, sucking as best as you can but you’re not consistent—the seal you form around his thumb is broken all too often by the moans and sighs you let out. Hoseok smirks at that, knowing you can’t handle it. “Suck properly.” He orders. You swallow, then wrap your lips properly around his thumb. “That’s it. Who’s my good little slut?” Hoseok asks.
You whine, grinding faster. “Is it you?” He teases. “Hmm…I thought my doll knew how to come when I told her though. Let’s see. Come now.”
With a single order, you get your release. Your whole body shakes, and Hoseok pulls you in close. He wraps his arms around you, using one hand to cup the back of your head as you shake from your orgasm. “So obedient. Just like I trained you. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, thank you.” You chant, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You’re almost crying at this point, feeling so taken care of and loved. “So grateful. Thank you, owner.”
Hoseok pulls back slightly, cupping your face in both of his hands. He kisses you, slow and passionate. “Can you handle more, baby?”
“Yes, owner.” You answer, feeling soft. Hoseok’s eyes sparkle. He knows that tone of your voice. You’re slipping further and further into your sub space, and it won’t be long until it’s hard for words to come out altogether. But Hoseok knows your body and your limits. He’ll give you exactly what he knows you can take.
“Go get your plug.” He orders. You crawl to the other side of the bed, reaching into the nightstand. Although the two of you have various toys, you know he means the small toy shaped like a teardrop with a little gem at the flared end. You bring it to him, presenting it with both hands. Hoseok takes it, then guides you to lay down. You lay back, feeling loved and safe. Hoseok will take care of you. He always does. Hoseok leans over you. “Show me your colours.” He says, knowing words are starting to slip away from you already. You squeeze Hoseok’s shoulder once to indicate green, twice for yellow, and three times for red. Hoseok kisses your forehead in praise. “What’s your colour right now?”
You squeeze once. “Such a good listener.” He praises you. He checks you’re ready, then slowly slides into you. You pant as he bottoms out, feeling full.
“O-Owner.” Your voice comes out weak. “P-Please.”
“I know, sweetheart.” Hoseok reassures you. He allows you to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “I’ll take good care of you. Fill your womb with my seed.”
You clench around him. “P-Please.” Then, you whine into his ear. “B-Breed me, owner.”
Hoseok growls, planting his hands on either side of your waist. He begins to move slowly, but you know he’s holding himself back for you. “Yeah?” He asks. “Want me to get you pregnant, sweetheart? Take care of you, take responsibility?”
You moan at the idea of being safe and taken care of. For someone who always pushes herself too far, you know deep down you’d love that. And Hoseok knows it, too, even if you don’t know how to ask for it. He knows you. Soon, Hoseok’s thrusts become faster and faster, knowing you’ve adjusted enough for him. Your moans become louder, and the nails you dig into Hoseok’s skin start to leave deeper indents. Soon, you’re arching your back. Hoseok’s own hips start to stutter. He reaches for your hair, tangling a firm hand in it. You sigh happily at his firmness. “Almost there, sweetheart.” Hoseok promises, reaching down to rub your clit. “You can do it, baby. Ready? 3…2…1…Now.”
Your orgasm wracks through you again, making you shake a third time tonight. At the same time, hot seed fills you, making you feel insane with pleasure. Tears slip out of the corners of your eyes, landing on the pillow. Hoseok wipes your cheeks immediately, then pulls you in as he lays on top of you. You feel so safe with him both inside you and on top of you, sandwiched between him and the sheets.
“T-Thank you, thank you.” You repeat, digging your nails into Hoseok’s shoulders. “Thank you, owner. So grateful.”
“You’re welcome, baby.” Hoseok says, smiling at you. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back. Even though he doesn’t say it, you see the relief in Hoseok’s eyes as you finally smile sincerely tonight. You lay there for some time and catch your breath. You kiss and hold one another, feeling comfortable. Then, Hoseok slowly slides out of you. You shiver as the seed begins to slip out of you, but Hoseok guides it back in with the plug. You clench around it, feeling pleased. “That’s my girl. So proud of you, sweetheart.”
You lay peacefully as Hoseok gets up, leaving the room momentarily. He returns with a glass of water and two granola bars for you. You’re still quite far into your sub space, so words are a bit difficult for you right now. Knowing that, Hoseok just quietly helps you sit up and feeds you your snack. Once you’re done, he carefully helps you drink the water.
“Should we shower now?” Hoseok asks. You purse your lips, looking down at your intertwined hands. He laughs. “Okay. In twenty minutes then.”
You smile, letting Hoseok pull you back under the covers for some cuddles before shower time. “Sweetheart.” Hoseok says, hooking his chin over your shoulder as he spoons you. You hum. “Remember you don’t need to hide from me, okay? If anything is bothering you, you tell me. I won’t think you’re any less good at your job if you talk to me about it, I promise. And although I know you would never give up your passion, I want you to know you don’t have to work if you don’t want to.”
You blink, craning your head to look at your boyfriend. Hoseok (despite the blush on his face) looks resolute. “I’m not kidding when I say I’ll take responsibility for you. I really can take good care of you.”
You giggle. It feels like a proposal. “I know, Hoseokie.” You mumble, cuddling back against him. You sigh, closing your eyes against the pillow as Hoseok gently rubs a hand over your belly. “I love you.” You whisper.
“I love you too.” Hoseok presses another kiss in your hair. Just then, he glances at the clock. “Okay, twenty minutes over. Let’s go.” He says. You pout, but he just grins at you. “A deal’s a deal, baby. Come on, let me get you cleaned up so I can change the sheets.”
You pout, holding your arms up. Hoseok laughs, tipping his head back. “Actually, I change my mind. I don’t want such a spoiled wife.”
“Too bad.” You mumble with a smile as he scoops you up into his arms like a bride. By now, your headspace has worn off but you feel so soft and content. “You have to take responsibility for me.”
You and Hoseok laugh together as he carries you to the bathroom.
🖤🖤🖤
A/N: Thank you for reading! I'd like to thank the Academy and fucking 2022 Mama red carpet Hoseok for inspiring me to stay up and write this fic when I have work at 8 am (but just look at him AGHHHHHHHHH). Also, requests are open <333
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# OFFICE HOURS ‣ GOJO SATORU
✰ — author’s note i feel so guilty bc gojo is literally the only character i write for LOL anyway this is an old draft from months ago. idk why this is so long im so horrendously down bad for this fucking snowman.
✰ — cw / tags arrogant ceo!gojo x secretary f!reader, sfw, not rly enemies to lovers bc gojo has fat feelings, gojo satoru being a billionaire playboy
✰ — playing death & taxes by daniel caesar.
✰ — word count ~3k LOL
nothing about gojo satoru really strikes you as the serious type.
even in a professional environment, your boss always has a carefree demeanour. his laugh is so nauseatingly loud that you can hear it from outside the office, and you wonder how someone as busy as him manages through his day; much less with a positive attitude. you take one look at his schedule, and you want to vomit with the way you hardly see any gaps between appointments.
you suppose you could learn that from him. it's his only good quality.
you admit that he's likeable, on surface level. there's a reason why you detest him, though: as his closest colleague, you know him way more than you would prefer. most people would think such a well to do man like satoru would have a wife by his side, but that's unfortunately not the case. you almost feel more miserable than him—because now you're forced to be the listening ear and comforting hand at his beck and call.
you think he'd be just fine if he was just a little more humble. he has a nice face. it's his fault for being so stuck up. you know how many women ask him out—painfully aware, actually.
'they just aren't suited to my taste,' he would say to you. 'i need someone that makes me feel alive.'
one time, gojo even asked you to bail him out of a date—something about the way she held her fork and knife disturbed him, and you were expected to show up at the restaurant and act as if there was an emergency.
'i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i have to go, duty calls.' his disgustingly charming tone made you want to slap him then and there.
she called him again the following week, and he completely forgot who she was. he didn't even save her number.
the sheer number of people asking him out had stroked his ego so hard that gojo firmly believes no woman is deserving enough. he rambles on and on to you about how snobby some of them seem, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue when he does. 'takes one to know one,' you would say, if not for your job at stake.
you think gojo satoru is full of himself. you are a strong believer of that. a witness, as well—it's not like he didn't try his way with you, too. unlike the women he ranted about, you turned him down every single time.
it's been a long while since any of that has happened, though. the most recent ordeal was months ago, but that didn't inherently mean that people stopped asking him out: it just meant that he was rejecting every single offer.
it's a thursday morning when you find yourself eating a sandwich you purchased on the way to work, at your desk—wondering when the big boss will finally arrive. the clock read 9 a.m., and you're expecting an extravagant "good morning!" to surprise you any moment now.
just then, you notice mr. conceited walk in: except something is different. he has no stride in his step. there was no good morning. there was no playful teasing directed at you as he walked past your desk and into his office, not that you were complaining—it was just strange.
you stand up, a mouthful of your sandwich still being chewed. you take a big sip of water and fix your skirt and blouse, making sure your hair is presentable—before swiftly making your way into his office.
──────
"i cannot believe this." he mumbles. you're standing in front of his desk, but he's not facing your direction.
gojo's chair is turned to the giant window that overlooks the business district, and he's gazing out of it thoughtfully. you think this is the cheesiest thing you've seen him do.
you can see how disheveled his hair was, even from where you were standing. you don't want to irritate him further, in case teasing you was still on his to-do list that day.
"what is it, mr. gojo?"
he swivels his chair around, and he is a mess—just what could have he been up to?
"i woke up late today."
"you're the boss, mr. gojo. you can come in any time you want—"
"not the point." he interrupts you. "i forgot my lunch. i was in the car, with the driver, on the way here already. . . and then i realised i left my donuts at home."
gojo's face is absolutely distraught. he looks like he's gone through a divorce and had his house set on fire with how he stands up dramatically—his hands now on his desk. you open your mouth to speak, but he shuts you up by talking again.
"i didn't want to inconvenience him. i'm too thoughtful, miss y/n."
you want to scoff, but you bite your tongue and hold back.
"so i got out of the car and ran back for it," gojo recounts. "i arrived home after the treacherous journey—only to discover that my donuts are gone."
you feign an expression of shock, just to humour him; he gives you an 'i know right' look, and continues his nonsensical story.
"the maids threw them away, miss y/n."
you can't help yourself: you let a small giggle slip through your lips. you quickly use your hand to cover your mouth, thinking of a quick excuse.
you cough. you pretend to, at least—but gojo satoru is not stupid.
no, maybe a little. though, not enough to be convinced of your terrible acting.
"nothing about this is funny."
you nod, looking down at the floor. "i apologise, mr. gojo, but it's just a few donuts. i'm sure someone in the office could fetch some for you."
"yes, i agree." he says, and you shift your gaze from the marble tiling of his office to his face. his hair is a mess, yes—but he still looks revoltingly handsome. his eyes are piercing through yours, and pieces of hair cover his face in just the right places.
you're staring a little too long and gojo finds his pulse quickening with the eye contact—but the spell he has you under is soon broken when he clears his throat.
you quickly look away, embarrassed that you were caught staring at your boss, by your boss.
"you'll pick some up for me, yeah?" his smooth and silky voice echoes through the empty space of his office.
you look at him again, and there's a gentle smile on his face; one you're all too familiar with.
you're aware of satoru's charismatic nature, his playboy-ish attitude, and all sorts of tricks he uses to make women fall head over heels for him. that didn't mean you were completely resistant to them, though—you find yourself playing with the sleeves of your blouse, your ears beginning to redden. "of course," is all you manage to say.
at least you were self-aware.
your mind was rational. should gojo satoru try to hit on you for the nth time—all it took was some self discipline to say no, and you'd like to think you had plenty.
you think the conversation is done with the way he doesn't speak another word, so you turn on your heels and make your way out of the office.
just as you touch the handle of the door, your boss adds: "i'll come with you."
you turn back to him, confused. you didn't need your boss babysitting you for a donut run, you knew his favourite flavours—it's all he ever insists on buying for lunch. "there's no need for that, mr. gojo."
satoru shakes his head in disapproval. "you don't even know my favourite flavours, miss y/n."
that was a blatant lie. he knew you knew. you were his personal donut grabber for a few months up until august, and it was only october. you suppose that it would've continued on if not for your complaints about the long lines in the morning.
nevertheless, you don't argue with him. gojo satoru was the type to get what he wants, when he wants, if he really wants it.
you smile at his disregard for the months you spent as his errand runner, and how idiotic the excuse he just used was. satoru knows he's lying through his teeth, and your smile makes him more nervous than your eye contact.
so nervous, in fact, that he takes back what he just said. "unless. . . you're fine by yourself."
you're surprised that gojo's confidence is dissipating, or that it could even fade at all. you can tell with the way he's avoiding your eye contact, exactly how you evaded his earlier—the red on the tips of his ears are much too obvious in contrast to his hair.
"i don't mind," you respond a bit too quicker than appropriate. "mr. gojo."
gojo curses himself mentally, thinking about how stupid he must sound. he's usually the one making people nervous, but he doesn't know why it's different when you look at him like that.
──────
the atmosphere is deafening in gojo's favourite bakery. you always knew he had a sweet tooth, so you expected his choice to be a spectacular one—and you weren't disappointed.
you had personally visited this bakeshop before, and the confectionery was truly as good as people made it out to be; it proved evident in the amount of people crammed into this small establishment. though, you can't tell if it was for the food or for your boss, with the way most pairs of eyes are turned in his direction.
you two spend a good five seconds looking at the menu before gojo states his order, which was exactly what you thought it would be—the lady at the cashier smiles a bit too long at satoru, before asking: "eating in?"
you want to open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it. "of course."
it was still very well your work day. he (or maybe you and him, considering you helped him plan seventy percent of his appointments) had a meeting in 3 hours to prepare for. you think this donut adventure is already unnecessary enough—but here he is, suggesting to waste even more time eating the donuts in the bakery itself.
"we have a meeting in a bit, though. you could eat it in your office."
he looks at you with a confused look, as if he forgot that there was a meeting at all—because he did forget. gojo gasps, turning back to the lady and retracting his previous statement.
──────
gojo eats his donuts agonisingly slow and no conversation is initiated.
you're alternating between staring at both your laptops and the swirls on the wooden desk, unable to say anything because you didn't plan for such an occasion: an eating donuts with your admittedly handsome boss that makes you nervous while simultaneously planning for an important meeting occasion.
"miss y/n, you should try some."
you shift your eyes from the table to gojo, and he's holding a small piece of his donut to your lips: the powdered sugar practically calling your name.
"it's fine, i ate earlier," you decline his generous offer. "you should eat."
"i'm not asking you to eat all of them, miss y/n." he smiles at you. "just a bite. it's really good, y'know."
you sigh, reaching for his hand to take it from him—but he swiftly pulls it away and shakes his head. "open your mouth."
you feel the tips of your ears burning, blood rushing to your cheeks and you wonder how the girls he takes out manage themselves when he's like this—you've worked with him for so long, yet you can't recall a time when his gaze wouldn't make you shudder.
you think you'd stutter if you spoke one more word to him, so you save yourself from the embarrassment and bare with his request.
he feeds you the piece of sugar-coated donut, and you're sure you have powder on the corners of your lips with how it's width barely fits into your mouth.
you chew and swallow, feeling the residue of sugar on your skin.
"do you have any tissues?" you ask him, a serious expression plastered onto your face.
gojo tries to suppress the chuckle itching to escape his throat—the sugar on your lips and cheeks catch him off guard, and after a few seconds he can't help but let a small laugh slip. you stand up from your chair, scanning the room for any boxes of tissues you could lay your hands on.
he stands up as well, shaking his head—still giggling.
"it's not funny," you frown, and the smile on his face only grows wider—you're too cute for your own good when you sulk. "stop laughing."
you're not sure if you want to punch him or let him giggle to himself. for some reason, seeing you embarrassed is a great cause of joy to him. you can't bring yourself to tell him to shut up; you always imagine doing just that, it's strange how you couldn't muster the courage just when you needed it most.
"it's quite funny," gojo's laughter eventually calms down.
he leans closer to you and his right hand gently holds the side of your jaw—he uses his thumb to gently wipe the sugar off your cheek, and then your lips. "i got it."
his thumb stays on your bottom lip after dusting the sugar away. his pupils are locked onto the surface of your lips, which were glossy in the harsh light of his office: they looked so soft.
before long, they trail up your face until he's looking directly into your eyes: and this time you're not nervous, you don't look away, and your heart is completely calm.
satoru's fingers are easy on your skin. he handles you like fragile glass, as if he doesn't want to break you: and it's the same for the way he looks at you. gentle.
you're reluctant to speak because the way satoru has his thumb on your bottom lip sends shivers down your spine. you feel breathless.
you don't want this feeling to leave, not just yet.
a few seconds of tension pass. his hand moves back to your jaw, and your nervousness returns when gojo satoru leans his tall figure even closer to you; his head tilting ever so slightly.
it's a random thursday morning when you discover a few more good qualities gojo satoru possesses: his lips and his hands. maybe the way he kisses, too—it's slow and precise, unlike his attitude. he tastes sickeningly sweet and it makes you want to savour this moment even more.
you promised yourself you wouldn't fall victim to gojo satoru. yet, you just can't pull away: instead finding yourself slithering your arms around his neck and your chest pressing against his.
gojo's hands are wandering down to your waist and he's desperate to have you as close to him as possible, showing in the way he tries to close the already small gap between you two.
it takes only a fraction of a second for a small thought to form in your mind: just how many women have been in this position?
you quickly forget about that thought, though—you think it's pointless to regret it now, gojo satoru kisses you too good to be full of remorse.
gojo thinks he could stay like this: kiss you all morning, afternoon and pay you overtime if it meant he could be this close to you for just a bit longer.
there's hints of neediness in gojo's touch—as if he'd been waiting for this forever, wanting to relish it before it ends. his few seconds of bliss don’t last very long though, because you're soon pulling away—gasping for air.
he sighs mockingly, his hands sliding down from your waist to your hips. "can't last longer than 10 seconds, miss y/n?"
of course he would say some cocky shit like that—you'd forgotten for a minute that this was the same, arrogant mr. gojo you always knew, and no kiss (however heavenly) was going to change that.
"i'm sorry that i don't go on dates with every man that breathes."
gojo smirks at you after you say those words. "come on. just because i go on dates with people, doesn't mean i kiss them like this."
"sure you don't." your jealousy shows a bit too much in your reply, and he finds himself smiling even harder.
"is someone jealous?" he teases you again, rubbing circles with his thumb against the flesh of your hips.
you feel flustered, knowing that you're definitely done for now—he saw right through you. "nobody is jealous, mr. gojo."
"stop it with the formality. just call me satoru."
"it's still office hours. it's only polite."
gojo rolls his eyes, sighing in the process. you grin a little at him, knowing that this was the first thing you denied him of today—complying with the donuts and the kissing was already spoiling him enough.
"then i suppose there's only after work," there's his nauseatingly charming voice again—low and smooth. he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and you know it too. "i'm off after 6."
you think long and hard about whether you want to be mean and add this to the list of things you've declined to do for him. the ratio was starting to get really unbalanced—but you remember the way his hands touch you and how his lips greet yours so lovingly: and you think that there's no point turning back now.
"my boss doesn't let me off until after 8, though." you try to poke at his buttons—you put on a fake pout, knowing you’ll accept his invitation anyway—but gojo satoru is eternally patient when it came to things he sincerely desired.
"fuck your boss." he says, "he'll be fine with it."
you laugh at his response. you never thought you would see the day gojo curses at himself, after all, he's so self-obsessed: but you suppose you've seen—and tasted—parts of him that you never knew existed.
"then i'll see you at 6, mr. gojo."
what was the harm in discovering more?
230323 — i kinda hate this but.. wtv… anyway i couldn’t be bothered to proofread have my brainrot of gojo in a suit Mmmm yumyum
#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x reader fluff#gojo x reader#gojo x reader fluff#gojo fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff#jujutsu kaisen#jjk imagine#jjk imagines#gojo imagine#gojo imagines#gojo x y/n#gojo x you
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Writing about my favorite characters as transgender has opened my eyes to how many people in fandom are able to get away with actual transphobia without other people judging them for it, and after one particularly bad experience I feel like I can't participate in fandom without constantly having to check people's profiles and social media to see whether or not they might secretly hate trans people. The fandom I currently write for is relatively small compared to others, but somehow I still manage to catch a lot of casual transphobia, especially on my higher-kudos'd works. This didn't really bother me at first since most of the comments were misinformed but rather harmless otherwise, with most asking me to write a fic where the MC medically transitions to become their "real gender" as a sequel. Those comments were written politely, but the sentiment that a person's body designates their gender bothered me a lot. I specifically present the trans characters in my fics as pre-op or non-op without dysphoria in order to feel more comfortable about my own body, and I'm really tired of reiterating the reasons why I personally won’t create a fic where the MC undergoes a full medical transition. I would be thrilled if someone else wrote that, but it’s not a concept I have any interest in executing myself.
Usually the casual transmedicalism in my comments is my only real gripe about the attitudes towards transness in my fandom, but recently I joined a major fandom discord server and found out that they had a dedicated thread for bashing my work. (Well, to be more accurate they had a bunch of threads for bashing people's works, but mine had the most messages at the time.) I should have just left at that point, but I was curious to see if there was any valid criticism because honestly I don’t get a lot of constructive feedback on my newer stuff and I wanted to see if there was anywhere I could improve. Unfortunately, it was almost entirely just really hurtful comments, with many people making assumptions about my body and offline identity, calling me a fake trans person and a chaser for the things I've written. They kept going on about how I'm fetishizing transness, how I probably just wanted an excuse to write het smut with an M/M tag on it, how I'm probably not actually a trans man but an obsessed and misguided teenage girl instead. I've been on T for over two years now, but even if I wasn’t, their belief that all bodies like mine are basically "female" was really upsetting. Maybe I just happened to stumble upon a bad crowd, but at that moment I just really felt alone. I never expected to receive that kind of vitriol in such a small fandom - I have maybe like five or so people who follow my work closely, so it's not like I'm hitting super big numbers compared to others. I understand that my work might be dysphoria-inducing for other people, but I include warnings for language at the beginning of all my fics and I'm extremely thorough about tagging all the sex acts that take place. It's easy to filter out my work via additional tags if you don’t want to see it. But no matter how many measures I take to make others feel more comfortable, they still feel like I'm taking up too much space and mucking up the tags with my fanfiction.
Part of me feels like quitting after this experience, but I'm also a spiteful bastard and I think it would haunt me forever if I stopped now lol. I'm curious to know if you or any of your followers has ever dealt with a similar situation (as in, finding out there's a bunch of people who hate your work for shitty reasons), and if you have advice on how to continue interacting with others in fandom without constantly wondering if they hate me behind closed doors. I left the server already but I'm sure there's other things I can do that I'm forgetting. Thanks for reading!!
--
There will always be people who dislike you for silly reasons, and if your fic is popular, there will be a lot of them. The only way to deal with it is to just accept that this is normal and not think about them.
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it's time to go / social media au
max verstappen x singer!reader
summary: in which rumors spread about max cheating on you but thankfully, there's a knight in a shining red armor waiting for you
faceclaim: sabrina carpenter
author's note: this is my first time doing a social media au, so please go easy on me 😭 nevertheless, i hope you guys enjoy! also, i'm going to doing more parts to this :)
part 1 · part 2
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f1updates: Max Verstappen and singer-songwriter Y/N Y/L/N have called it quits after almost 2 years of dating. Sources close to the couple have commented the breakup saying, 'apparently there was some sort of infidelity involved.' The couple have yet to confirm these rumours, but what do you guys think? Check the link in our bio for more information regarding the situation.
liked by user12, user13, user14 and 586 others
user1: noooo mom and dad 😭
user2: i'm denial, ain't no way one of them cheated wtf
user3: say sike right now ☺️
user4: it's okay guys mom and dad are just being silly 🥰🥰🥰 it's fine 🥰🥰
user5: i mean if the cheating thing is true, i'm sure we all know who cheated on who
—load more comments—
y/n.insta: how long will it be cute, all this crying in my room 🎼
liked by charles_leclerc, user6, user7 and 321 278 others
user1: mother noooo 😭
user2: it's okay max ☺️ i just wanna talk ☺️🔪
user3: i didn't wanna believe it but looks like the streets were right this time 😪
user4: i'm so lost, what happened??
user3: apparently m*x cheated on y/n
user4: wtf nooo they were my endgame 😭
user5: charles what are you doing here
user3: lmaoo chill they're friends
user6: it's okay bby i can go vroom vroom in circles too and i promise i won't cheat
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y/n.insta: they say write about what you know so i wrote about heartbreak. it's time to go out now on all streaming platforms!
btw, had a BLAST in LA this last weekend. thank you so much for all the support, i love you guys 💖 next stop ➡️ miami
liked by charles_leclerc, user16, user17 and 987 532 others
user1: can't wait to see you in miami!! ♥️
user3: 15 years 😭 15 million tears 😭 begging till my knees bled 😭 i gave it my all 😭 he gave me nothing 😭 at 😭 all 😭 tHEN WONDERED WHY I LEFT 😭
user2: @/maxverstappen1 been awfully quiet since the queen dropped it's time to go 🤔
user1: not the tag lmaoooo 🤣
user6: okay can we pls talk about the fact that cHARLES is back in y/n's likes???
user5: i admire to be this delulu
user8: still feels so weird not the see max in the likes and comments
user11: i know right?? we get it, it was a good joke hahaha i'm laughing now pls can we stop this
user9: i think you dropped this 👑
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maxverstappen1: Simply... Lovely. What a great weekend again 🏆 Miami, thank you!
liked by redbullracing, user18 and 886 379 others
user19: it's time to go to apologize to y/n now ☺️🔪
user5: so proud of you, great job again!!
user17: imagine being in miami at the same time as the girl you CHEATED ON
user2: facts, i feel so bad for y/n cause i remember seeing a video of her saying she scheduled a show in miami at the same as the gp so her and max could spend some time together
user3: lmao at least Charles had a fun night at y/n's concert last night
user17: what?? how do you know that???
user3: he posted on instagram last night that he was there!!
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charles_leclerc: Good day yesterday, on and off track. Thank you, Miami! And special thank you to @/yn.insta for having me at the show ♥️ It was phenomenal and can't wait to see you again soon.
liked by @/yn.insta, carlossainz55, user13 and 687 931 others
yn.insta: Thank you so much for coming! I'm glad you had a good time ♥️ Can't wait to see you soon!
user6: the red hearts!!! and y'all called me delulu
user8: okay but the hearts don't necessarily mean anything?? i mean y/n just got out of a relationship
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#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#max verstappen x reader#charles leclerc x reader#writingmv33#writingcl16#writingsmau#writing itstimetogo#max verstappen#charles leclerc#f1 social media au#charles leclerc social media au#max verstappen social media au
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So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke? (pt. 5)
Derek Danforth x fem reader
Word count: 4k
Tags: 18+, Derek x fem reader, no use of y/n, angst, lots of fluff, enemies, enemies to lovers, fluff, (very) slowburn, sass, banter, misogynistic undertones, (Derek is a prick), suggestive themes, mentions of drug use, withdrawals, rehab, masturbating.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6
─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────
To celebrate a week of sobriety, you decide to surprise Derek with a cake.
Of course, since there isn't exactly a bakery on a remote island, you had to bake it yourself.
Which you did. Last night. Now you stand in the kitchen, wondering how exactly you should decorate the damn thing.
And what to write on it?
"Congrats, maybe now you'll live past 40!" No, that's morbid.
"Bye-bye blunts and blow!" Too cringy.
"Happy one-week?" Hmm... that sounds like an anniversary thing.
Damnit. Maybe this isn't a situation that calls for cake after all. You sigh and continue to mumble random slogans to yourself as you slather the icing on nice and thick.
It looks a little messy, but you're not exactly a professional baker. Which is unfortunate, because that's probably exactly what he's used to. Oh well. It's the thought that counts, right?
You just want to show him how proud you are. He really has changed a lot over the past week, surprising you every day with how... normal he can be. When he wants to, at least.
Picking up a piping bag of green icing, you start placing decorative dollops around the edge of the cake. Some of them are a little lopsided, but it doesn't look too bad overall.
What now? You mindlessly lick some stray icing off your wrist and stare down at the gaping blank space in the middle of the cake.
Eventually, you settle on three words.
"Proud of you."
It's fitting. He has a lot to be proud of. Not just the sobriety stuff, but everything.
He's been picking up new skills every day. You smile as you tidy up the cake decorating mess strewn about the counter, thinking back to your first time cooking with Derek.
He'd been cocky and overconfident, and so utterly dumbfounded when that pancake met a splatter-y death on the stovetop.
And yet, he still got back up and tried again. After relentless pestering from you, obviously, but it still counted.
You stand back and survey your work. Cream colored icing, green lettering, and... okay, maybe the hearts were a bit much. Hopefully he didn't get the wrong idea. You're just... proud. That's all.
Now the only thing missing is Derek. He went upstairs an hour or so ago for a nap, mumbling something about a headache. Poor thing.
He's been so damn clingy lately, always touching you in some way or another. It seemed almost subconscious for him at times. A hand on your shoulder, his knee against yours, an arm around your waist... no matter what you were doing, he had to have physical contact.
You smile as you make your way upstairs to his room. Maybe today would be the day you finally give him a proper hug.
・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・
Derek is woken from his fitful sleep to the sound of you calling out his name.
Usually, that would be a welcome sound. You're always such a good distraction from his withdrawals.
But right now? He just wants to sleep. No, more than that. He wants to hibernate, to go into a goddamn coma and never have to wake up again.
"Can I have another twenty minutes?" He croaks, lifting his head from the mess of pillows to call out to you.
Apparently he can't, because he hears the door click open, and you peek your head in through the crack.
Derek just groans and buries his face back into the bed. His sheets and blankets are a tangled mess, and he's twisted himself into an awkward angle throughout his nap.
"Come on, It's been over an hour already." Derek can feel the bed shift as you take a seat on the edge.
"Well I'm still fuckin' exhausted." He mumbles into the pillow, not bothering to turn and look at you.
"Derek. You should know by now I'm not gonna let you rot in bed all day."
The almost sarcastic tone in your voice is what finally breaks him. This week has been hell, and you're just mocking him.
He hasn't only given up drugs this week, but all of his servants and staff as well. It was one thing to help you with cooking, but yesterday you'd made him do laundry. LAUNDRY. What the fuck did he look like? A maid?
"Fuck off." He grumbles a little louder, pushing your hand away as you reach to play with his hair.
His sour attitude apparently doesn't deter you any, because he can hear you laughing at him. Derek grits his teeth and finally sits up, glaring at you.
"You're really fucking annoying, you know that? Always pissing me off."
The words leave his mouth before he can really think them through, and when he sees your smile fall he immediately regrets them.
Unfortunately, he's too tired, sick, and stubborn to take it all back. Even while his heart drops into his stomach, he continues to glare daggers at you.
"Alright... twenty more minutes." With that, you slide off his bed and quickly make your way to the door.
Fuck. As soon as the door closes, Derek is left in darkness, in more ways than one.
His stomach twists into knots and he can feel his chest grow heavy. He tries to scramble after you, but gets caught in the tangle of blankets and ends up falling to the floor instead.
God damn it. Why does he always have to be such a fuck up? You aren't annoying. You're the only thing keeping him sane right now, and he goes and pushes you away.
He collapses on the floor, sighing at the feeling of the cold hardwood against his cheek. A few tears roll down his face, and he laughs bitterly as a thought crosses his mind.
Your thighs make a much better pillow than the floor.
・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・
Twenty minutes later, you knock at Derek's door once more. He mumbles something incomprehensible, and you take that as permission to enter.
The sight in front of you makes you pause. What the hell is he doing? You flip the lights on just to make sure your eyes aren't playing tricks on you.
They aren't.
Derek Danforth lies on the floor next to his bed, groaning and blinking up at the harsh overhead light.
"Looks real comfortable down there." You tease, setting the glass of water you brought him on his bedside table before joining him on the floor.
He refuses to look at you, throwing his arm over his eyes and groaning.
"You need to eat. And drink. I brought you some water."
Derek stays quiet as you sit next to him and place a hand on his shoulder. His lips are pressed into a tight line, and he's still hiding behind his arm.
"Why are you so goddamn nice?" He finally groans.
"We've already had that talk."
"Okay, then why are you so goddamn nice even when I'm being a prick?"
You move his arm away from his face, and he doesn't fight it. When you finally get a look at him, it's obvious he's been crying.
Derek Danforth. Crying on his bedroom floor. That's a sight.
A sight that really breaks your heart, actually. His watery eyes threaten to make yours overflow as well, so you quickly wipe away his tears with the hem of your shirt.
"You think I expect you to go through three weeks of rehab and not be a prick sometimes?"
Derek actually chuckles at that, and finally meets your gaze. He looks absolutely wrecked.
"I didn't mean what I said earlier."
"I know."
You scoot a little closer, and gently tug at him. He takes the hint, placing his head on your lap with his cheek against your thigh.
Neither of you talk for a few minutes. He just closes his eyes and sighs as you play with his hair. Over the past week, you've learned what he likes. Tug at his curls in just the right way, and he...
Derek lets out a soft whimper and you smile. There it is.
"Wanna make it up to me?" You tease.
He glances up at you, an eager look in his eyes.
"How?"
"Get rid of this." You laugh and trail a finger along his jawline, feeling at his overgrown stubble. He most likely hasn't shaved since arriving here a week ago.
"What? You don't like it?"
"Do you?"
"..."
Derek pouts, pushing your hand away and feeling at it himself. His brow furrows adorably as he considers your words.
"It looks manly."
"There's a difference between manly and cave-man-ly."
He scoffs at that, but when you start poking and prodding at his face where his stubble has grown out, he cracks a smile.
"Fine, fine. You win. I'll shave."
He swats your intrusive hands away, then sits up and stretches.
Now that he's up and moving, you decide it's time to go. On your way out the door, you hesitate, remembering the reason you came to get him in the first place.
"Oh, don't take too long. I have a surprise waiting for you downstairs."
・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・
Derek stares at himself in the bathroom mirror, feeling at his stubble. You're right, he does look better with a trim.
He knows he should head downstairs, but his heart is beating a million times a second, and not even from withdrawals.
That little comment about a surprise? God damnit. You're teasing him. You have to be. How could you say something like that and not expect him to get excited?
Derek sighs and tucks his boner into the waistband of his boxers, then looks at himself in the mirror one more time to make sure it isn't noticeable. It's not... mostly.
Damnit. He could probably take a few minutes and rub one out, but he'd absolutely die of embarrassment if you walked in on him AGAIN.
He groans and turns to leave. Oh well. It's hidden well enough, and you'd already seen worse. Plus... maybe if this surprise is anything like his fantasies, he'd have an opportunity to use it.
"Oh, wait wait wait!" You scramble over to him as he trudges downstairs, keeping him from entering the living room.
"Are you gonna tell me what my surprise is?"
"No! Then it wouldn't be a surprise at all. Close your eyes."
Derek does as instructed, shutting his eyes tight. When feels you grab his hand and start to tug him along, he can't help but sneak a peek.
"I swear... if your Idea of a surprise is to walk me into a wall-"
"Oh, shut it." You scoff and clap your free hand over his eyes.
"Just trust me. And no peeking."
Derek grumbles, but he does trust you. A lot more than he lets on. So, he blindly stumbles along as you lead him into the... kitchen? Yeah, he's pretty sure he's in the kitchen.
"Okay, you can look." You uncover his eyes, but keep a tight hold on his hand as you beam at him.
"What do you think?"
What does he think?
What does he think?
Derek chokes up at the sight before him, and has to turn his head so you don't see the way his eyes are watering again.
A cake. You baked him a fucking cake to say you're proud of him. And he called you annoying.
"It's to celebrate being a week sober." You explain, leaning over to try and catch a glimpse of his face.
He squeezes your hand tightly, but can't get any words out.
"A week." He whispers, blinking back tears. Fuck, has it been a week already? It feels like hardly a day has passed.
"Oh, love. C'mere."
Derek lets himself be pulled into your arms. He groans from your touch, melting into the embrace and burying his face in your neck.
God, this is perfect. He's wanted to be held like this for so long, but now that it's finally happening... he can't help but feel guilty.
"I'm such an ass." He mumbles into your neck, lips pressed to your skin.
"Not always." You laugh softly and pull him a little closer.
Too close. He can feel your breasts pressing against him... fuck. Any closer and you might be able to feel what he has tucked away.
"Not always?" Derek scoffs, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes.
"Is that really the best you've got to make me feel better?"
"What? You want me to lie?"
"Maybe."
He stares into your eyes, heart pounding in his chest as he suddenly realizes just how close you are. It takes everything in him not to lean in and bridge the few inch gap between the two of you.
"You look nice like this."
Derek can feel his face heating up as you cup his face with a hand. Shit, If you don't stop soon he might actually just kiss you.
"Like what?" He asks breathlessly, mesmerized by your touch.
"With a trim." You smile and run your thumb along his his stubble, eyes trailing from his jaw to his lips.
For a second, Derek is sure you're going to kiss him. He tilts his head ever so slightly in anticipation, and his eyes flutter shut.
"So... you want a piece of cake?" You clear your throat, suddenly dropping your arms and breaking the embrace.
Of course you weren't going to kiss him. Derek gives you a half-hearted smile and nods, trying to hide just how crushed he feels.
"Yeah, sure. Cake."
・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・
"No, love, you're supposed to do the edge pieces first."
You chuckle as Derek angrily fumbles with two puzzle pieces. They quite obviously don't match, but he's trying to force them together anyways.
"Sorry, I wasn't aware puzzles had rules." He scoffs, dramatically tossing the little cardboard chunks across the table.
You'd dragged him out to the porch for a little fresh air, since he insisted he was too tired to make the five minute walk down to the beach.
"Well, they do. The biggest rule is don't throw the puzzle pieces, or you'll lose them." You laugh and continue flipping pieces over so they're facing upwards.
It hasn't been very long since you started the puzzle, and Derek already looks bored.
"Is this supposed to be fun?" He grumbles, helping you flip over pieces with one hand, the other finding it's way to rest on top of yours.
You wonder if he even notices he's doing it again. Touching you like that. You've gotten used to it by now, and usually just let it happen.
"Oh, come on. You gonna let a puzzle get the best of you, Danforth? A child could do this."
Derek makes a face and gestures to the sea of little cardboard scraps scattered across the table.
"A child could do a one thousand piece puzzle?" He scoffs.
"Okay, maybe not..." You laugh and adjust your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.
"But I'm sure you can do it."
Derek's face flushes pink, and you aren't sure whether its from the praise or the way you're so casually holding his hand. Probably both. But so what if you're holding his hand? He's the one who started it.
He just mumbles something under his breath and looks back down at the table, suddenly very motivated to help you pick through the pieces.
His hand doesn't leave yours.
・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・
Derek wakes up from a deep sleep to the sound of your voice and the feeling of your nails gently scratching his scalp.
He gasps and tries to sit up, but finds he's stuck.
Er, not stuck, just... underneath you?
"Come on, love. You slept through nearly the whole movie." You laugh softly and start to nudge him off your lap.
Derek finally remembers what's going on, and pulls his arm out from under you. Apparently he'd tucked it beneath your knees while he slept, because he sure didn't remember doing it.
"Told you a chick flick would put me to sleep." He mumbles, fumbling to sit up. He finds his other arm is also stuck, wedged in between your waist and the couch.
"Sure made yourself comfortable, huh?" You tease, scooting forward and freeing him.
"Shut up." Derek reluctantly pulls away from you, sitting up and looking at you with a dazed expression. He wipes the drool from the corner of his mouth and groans. That really was a good nap.
"It's just so easy to fall asleep on you." The words come out before he can really think over them, and he freezes in embarrassment. Thankfully, you seem to take it in a different way than he meant it.
"Oh, am I that boring? I put you to sleep?"
"Exactly. I'm yawning already." He teases, letting out an exaggerated yawn that only earns him an elbow to the ribs.
"Hmph. Next time you can fall asleep somewhere else."
"But you're so damn comfortable." He whines, scrambling after you as you make your way upstairs. You can't leave him yet. You just can't.
"Well, your bed is plenty comfortable as well. Go to sleep."
Derek is suddenly struck with a thought, and takes your hand before you can slip away into your room for the night.
"What if..." He starts, placing his other hand on your hip and pulling you a little closer.
"What if I don't want to sleep in my bed tonight?"
You give him an incredulous look, and Derek can hardly believe the words that just came out of his mouth. Fuck, you're going to reject him. He just knows it.
"My bed?" You ask, raising an eyebrow and looking down at the way his hand is gripping your hip.
Derek can hear his heart pounding in his ears. He's being WAY too forward, and probably seems like a creep. Damnit.
"I... I just won't be able to sleep without you. I know it." He stutters, stumbling over his words. It's the truth, though. The only time he's been able to sleep peacefully lately is when he's touching you.
"Derek, love..." You chuckle and start to brush his hands away, taking a step back.
Fuck. He needs to show you how serious he is about this.
"Please? Just for tonight?" He grabs both of your hands, intertwining your fingers with his as he meets your gaze. You said he has puppy-eyes or something, right? Derek does his best to look pitiful.
It's not hard to do. He really does feel pitiful in this moment, begging you so blatantly. He might as well get on his fucking knees.
"Fine." You finally relent, groaning and gently shoving Derek aside as you head into your bedroom.
"But I hope you know I kick in my sleep."
"I don't mind taking that risk."
・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・
After quickly getting ready for bed, you settle down under the covers while Derek stands awkwardly to the side.
"Well? You gonna join me?" You ask, patting the spot next to you.
God, how did you get roped into this? Him and those damn puppy eyes. He's so hard to say no to.
"Oh, uh, yeah." Derek scrambles to climb into bed beside you. He looks like he's having just as much trouble believing what's happening.
"Sleeping with you wasn't really in my job description, you know. I'm complaining to your mother after this."
"Please don't." He groans, squirming and getting comfortable under the shared blanket. He keeps his distance, seeming content just to be in the same bed as you.
"You gonna sleep in that?" You lift the blanket to peek at his outfit, a simple t-shirt and sweatpants.
"Yeah? What's wrong with it?" He pouts and tugs the blanket back down, acting self-conscious.
"Nothing, just... You aren't going to be hot?"
"Are you trying to get me to take my pants off, sweetheart?"
"God, no. I've seen enough of that."
Your teasing clearly gets to him, because he rolls over to face away from you, grumbling. You swear his ears are a little pink. Is he blushing?
"Oh, love. I'm just messing with you." You scoot a little closer to him, and put a hand on his waist.
"I know." He whispers, breath hitched.
"Is it okay if I do this?"
He groans when you get even closer, spooning him from behind. Your arm wraps around his waist and you press your entire body against his.
"M-maybe I will get hot..." He mumbles, but makes no effort to push you away. Instead, he completely melts under your touch, relaxing against the pillow.
"Keep your pants on, Danforth."
"Yes ma'am."
・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・
Derek has been in bed with you for what feels like hours, (though really only around half of one), and he still can't believe what's happening.
Your arm is around his waist, holding him tight while the rest of your body is pressed up against him. He can feel your breasts pressing into his back, and your lips on his neck.
He almost wishes you'd kiss him, but that would probably send him over the edge.
And God, is he dangerously close to the edge right now.
His heart is pounding, heartbeat in synch with the throbbing in his pants. He's been hard ever since you cuddled up to him, but no way in hell is he going to ask you to stop. Not ever. Even if it kills him.
Scratch that. It is going to kill him. Derek can't help but let out a whimper as his dick twitches in his sweatpants.
Fuck. Your hand is right there, on his stomach. If you'd just slide it down a little...
"What's wrong?" You mumble, giving him a tight squeeze and nuzzling against the back of his neck.
"O-oh. Just... headache... Don't feel good..."
He feels like a total prick for lying to you, but what is he supposed to say? Yeah, totally fine, just horny as fuck? He'd rather die.
"Aww... I've got you, love."
Derek's breath hitches as you throw your leg over him. He can feel your thigh pressed up against his side, and the way you squeeze him feels heavenly.
He whimpers again, and starts to squirm slightly in your grasp. Fuck, if you keep this up he's not going to be able to control himself.
You continue to gently squeeze, rub, and cuddle him, whispering words of comfort with your lips pressed against the back of his neck. He can feel your hot breath on him, your breasts against his back, your hand on his stomach, your leg wrapped around his...
He can feel everything. And it's driving him insane.
Okay, okay, fuck. He can fix this. He just needs a quick release. That's all.
Derek starts to form a plan in his head, fueled by desperation and lust. Once he's mostly sure you're asleep, he slips his hand down into his boxers.
Biting back a moan, he slowly starts to jerk himself off. Painfully slow. He can't risk waking you up.
It's so fucking hard to not go faster, or move, or make a sound. Fuck, it's just so hard. Period.
He didn't really think this through, huh? Asking to sleep in your bed. Next time he'll jerk off first. If there is a next time. Damnit. If you catch him like this, you'll never speak to him again. He's sure.
Trembling, he accidentally lets a small whine slip out. Even with the absolute minimum amount of stimulation, he's close to finishing.
"Hnngh... Derek? You okay?"
Fuck. You're awake.
"Huh? Yeah, just... nightmare..." He chokes the words out, hand still wrapped around his cock as he slowly milks out a steady trickle of precum.
"It's okay." You whisper, holding him even tighter. "I'm right here."
Yeah, and that's the his damn problem. Your words and touch send him spiraling over the edge, and he bites his lip with nearly enough force to draw blood as he comes in his sweatpants.
It's not the most satisfying orgasm, seeing as he could barely touch it... but it still feels so much better than being that fucking horny with no release.
"Thank you..." Derek groans, praying that you don't ever discover the double meaning behind his words.
He had originally planned to sneak away and clean himself up, but with the way you're clinging to him...
Fuck. Guess he's sleeping in wet sweatpants.
─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────
Author's note: Oh my goddd, sorry for such a long wait on this chapter!!! I've been wanting to write this scene FOREVER, but I also wanted to get it right!!
I love putting Derek in uncomfortable situations. Not sorry.
Also its crazy to me that I've written 16 thousand words of fanfic for a character that had 20 minutes of screen time and then fucking DIED 💀
Anyways... expect the next chapter in 2-3 days. Thanks for all the love and support!!!
Part 6
#josh hutcherson#jhutch#jhutch1992#derek danforth#josh hutcherson x reader#derek danforth x reader#josh hutcherson x you#derek danforth x you#derek danforth smut#josh hutcherson smut#josh hutcherson fanfic#fluff and angst#slowburn fic
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One Night-Valentine's Day special
*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*
Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader
Warnings: lots of smut(mask play, spit play, bondage, anal, fingering, oral(m/f receiving), choking, unprotected sex), swearing, angst, fluff.
Summary: Nothing like a little Valentines Day smut for these two love birds!
Authors Note: Since this takes place during this universe, every thing that happened between Noah and Reader is still the same! Just a little pop in to see how they've been doing! Happy Valentines Day my lovelies! I hope you enjoy this little blurb!
Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken @malice-ov-mercy @thebadchic @niicoleleigh @lma1986 @dsireland86 @bellaboo967 @cookiesupplier @whenthesummerdies @bngurngheart @laurpartyprogram @thisbicc @lyinginbetween @princessmarshmallowx @loeytuan98 @cncohshit @lacktoesandtoddlerants @notingridslurkaccount @calleyx13 @jessiskyee @mrscevans @spicywhenspeaking @myownthoughts12 @br0kenangel23 @flowery-mess @lizzieseveride @illmakeyousaywow @burning-outx @xhedonistolisx @sinnamongirl @jilliemiw86 @shayzillaaaa @dream-machine-love
“Hi, who can I make this out to?” I smiled up at the person in front of me.
The young blonde smiled wide. “Uh, Jennifer.”
I picked up on her nerves but decided not to dwell on it like I’d done with the other 50 people before her. I opened the book Jennifer lay in front of me and wrote the same message I’d been writing all day.
Jennifer,
Thank you so much for the support.
XO
Y/N.
“Thank you so much for coming out”, I said while sliding the book back to Jennifer.
Jennifer shook her head while clutching the book close to her chest. “No, thank you, Y/N! I absolutely loved One Night. So when you were promoting Always Pretending, I knew I would have another book to add to my TBR list. Needless to say, it’s my favorite book ever.”
My cheeks flushed. “Oh wow. Thank you so much for that, Jennifer. Truly, your praise means a lot.”
With a wave, I continued the same thing for the next long while, signing book after book for my fans. This was the last day in a two-week-long book tour across the United States and to say I was exhausted was an understatement. Not to mention, I had a four-hour flight back home to Los Angeles as soon as I left this bookshop. Jackie, my assistant, knew how badly I wanted to get back home so she booked the earliest flight she could.
It has been like this for the last year ever since I published One Night and now Always Pretending; both books on the bestseller list. While I was thankful for that, I wasn’t thankful for being away from home for so long.
Away from Noah.
Our schedules didn’t seem to match up as of late. While I was away on my book signing tour, he was home resting because a week after I got back home, Bad Omens would be leaving for a round of festivals overseas. Noah wanted me to join him since I hadn’t been in a long time. We’d been dating for almost two years now and I had to miss out on the last two tours because of my own career.
I had every intention of joining Noah now but needed to talk to Jackie about it first. She worked tirelessly to keep my schedule busy and jam-packed to promote my books but in my eyes, they didn't need any more promotion. I’d been working almost nonstop with these book tours, interviews, and not to mention trying to work on my third book.
I needed a fucking break.
I didn’t want it to seem to people that I was complaining because I was thankful for where I ended up. If you had told the girl two years ago who sat on that tour bus wondering if her first book would be good enough to become a best-selling author, she’d laugh in your face.
Noticing that we were dwindling to the last few people, I powered through with a plastered smile even though my eyes were drowning in exhaustion. My phone lay on the table next to me, screen down but kept buzzing against the wood. Jackie went to reach for it but I shot her a look in between signing books.
“I thought you’d want me to respond for you,” she tried to smile.
I bit my tongue, not wanting to snap at the older woman because she was simply doing her job but I knew who was texting me and didn’t want her to see those messages.
“It’s fine, thank you,” I muttered.
Finally, after a two-hour signing, I was finished and shook out the cramps in my right hand while letting out a deep breath. It was almost 2 in the afternoon and my flight left in 3 hours which meant I had to rush across town to make it in time.
“So, I was thinking,” Jackie started as I began to gather my things. “The local news channel would love to have you on their morning report tomorrow. I think it would be great publicity.”
I raised a brow. “You seemed to forget that I have a flight in three hours, Jackie.”
“I know,” she nodded. “But we can move some things around and-.”
For the first time since she took over as my assistant, I said the word that I never wanted to because I knew how important the publicity side of my career was.
“No.”
Jackie blinked. “What?”
I sighed while running a hand through my hair. “Look Jackie, while I appreciate everything you’ve done for me these past few months, I need a break. I’ve been going nonstop since One Night was published. I miss my life back in Los Angeles. I miss my quiet little apartment. I miss my boyfriend.”
Noah’s smile flashed in my mind and my heart yearned to be back with him. About three months ago, he moved in with me but with how busy both of us had been it felt as if we didn’t have time to actually revel in living together.
Not to mention, being away from him for two weeks made me horny as hell. Facetime sex paled in comparison to seeing and feeling the real thing.
“But-.”
I held up my hand to silence Jackie. “You deserve a break as well, Jackie. Take some time off, do things you love. When I’m ready to talk about book three, I’ll give you a call, alright?”
Reluctantly, she nodded while tucking a piece of graying hair behind her ear.
Bidding her goodbye, I threw my bag over my shoulder and then dragged my suitcase behind me to exit the bookstore only to immediately sit in the backseat of the black town car that had been waiting to take me to the airport. Once we were gliding along the road, I finally peered at my phone for the first time in a few hours.
Noah: Angel, I’m so proud of everything you’ve done. Seeing how successful your book tour has been makes me smile. I can’t wait till you’re back home and we can celebrate. I love you so much.
Noah: So, are you going to sign a copy of Always Pretending for me? Since you know, I was your muse for it.
I rolled my eyes with a giggle before replying to Noah.
Me: Oh please, you know I’d sign a book for my biggest fan. Also, I love you too.
As I browsed through my phone, checking my social media and responding to emails, Noah texted back.
Noah: So, we have a problem. I can’t pick you up from the airport because I forgot I had my therapy appointment at six.
My heart sunk to the depths of my stomach. All day I’d been looking forward to seeing Noah’s face as I stepped through the doors of the airport. But I knew that he couldn’t miss therapy. It was more important than picking me up.
Me: It’s okay, love. I can order an uber. I should be back home by 8. Maybe we can have a late dinner together?
Noah: Already taken care of, angel.
With a yawn, I adjusted my glasses as I stepped through the gate doors of the airport, dragging my bags behind me. There was a delay in taking off at the last airport which meant I was now arriving in Los Angeles at 9 p.m rather than 7 p.m. I had to buy wifi on the plane so I could message Noah to let him know about the delay.
Thank the gods I changed out of my professional attire at the last airport and opted to wear my Bad Omens joggers and Noah’s yellow hoodie; his smell still lingering. With my phone in one hand, I was about to order an Uber when my feet skidded to a halt at the sight in front of me.
What a cheeky little…
Noah smirked as he held a bouquet of black daisies.
“Hi, angel,” he mused.
I reached for the flowers and brought them to my nose, inhaling their scent, and then peered up at Noah.
“I thought you couldn’t pick me up.”
Noah brushed away a loose strand of hair from my face. “I sort of lied. I had plans to pick you up then take you out to dinner for Valentine's day but when your flight got delayed, I had to switch things up.”
“So you’ve been waiting here for two hours?” I asked.
“Worth it.”
He shrugged before wrapping his fingers behind my neck to bring our lips together in a long overdue kiss. His tongue immediately molded against mine and I moaned into it, my hand sprawling over his chest. The material of his Hereditary sweater felt warm underneath my palm and I let myself fall into him when his hands grasped my hips.
“I missed you, Y/N,” Noah’s teeth grazed over my bottom lip.
“I missed you too, love.”
With his arm wrapped around my shoulder and other hand holding my bags, Noah led me out of the airport and towards his car parked in the parking lot. Once we were settled, he began the drive back home. I nestled into the passenger seat and let out a content sigh.
“Tired?” Noah questioned with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on my thigh.
“No, surprisingly. I thought I would be but I’m just happy to be back home.”
He brought my hand to his lips to kiss along my knuckles. “I’m glad you’re back too, angel.”
For the rest of the drive home, I told him how the book tour went while he told me what he did the last few weeks. Since it was down time for Bad Omens, Noah spent it either in the gym with Ash or in the studio with the guys.
As we walked down the long hallway to our apartment, another yawn slipped through my lips and I nearly stumbled. Noah chuckled as he wrapped an arm around me to pull me into his chest.
“You should get some sleep, angel.”
I frowned while burying myself into his sweater. "I'm not tired."
His lips brushed along my forehead as we stopped in front of our door and he unlocked it. The darkness of our home escaped into the hallway as I stepped through the threshold and when I clicked on the lights, a gasp fell from my lips.
Matching the daisies bouquet I had clutched in my arms, our entire apartment was littered. Music played softly as I noticed the steaming dinner plated on our kitchen island, candles lit and spread throughout.
Turning on my heels, I gaped at Noah who leaned against the door with a smug smile.
“What is this?” I asked, doing my best not to cry.
“Happy Valentine's Day, angel. I had Jolly set this up for me while we were on our way home. He had to warm up the dinner I cooked earlier but I promise it’s still good,” he said.
My eyes widened. “Oh, I forgot it’s Valentine's day! I was so busy with everything I didn’t get you anything.”
Noah pushed himself off the door and immediately cupped my face so I could look up at him. The hood of his sweater was still pulled over his eyes, chocolate tendrils falling into his face.
“You know I don’t need anything. Just you, angel. But I wanted to do something special for you because you deserve it.”
I left a firm but quick kiss on his lips, muttering against them. “Thank you, Noah.”
He smiled while motioning behind me. “Come on, let's eat.”
“Fuck, Noah,” I moaned when his tongue licked up the patch of skin his teeth grazed.
My nails dragged down his bare chest, leaving red marks along his tattoos, as he continued to slam his cock into me, the couch beneath us scraping along the wood floors.
“So tight. I missed you,” he groaned into the crook of my neck as his hips stilled.
I knew he was close but also knew that he didn’t want it to end yet. What started as a nice romantic dinner turned into a heavy make out session on the couch. Neither of us could wait any longer and needed to be connected once again.
His fingers brushed along the folds of my pussy and I shook with the feeling as he slowly dragged his cock all the way out, only leaving the tip inside.
“Noah,” I whined while raising my hips. “Please.”
His teeth dragged along my nipples. “Please what?”
I raked my nails through his hair and yanked back causing Noah to let out a loud hiss. “Fuck, angel.”
“Stop teasing me and fuck me, Noah. Please.”
My screams echoed throughout the apartment when he buried his cock deep witin me again, his pace becoming ruthless. But our position on the couch wasn’t the greatest, I needed to be able to feel him even deeper. We couldn’t make it to the bedroom when we first started and there was no way I was going to stop this now.
Noah could tell I needed something different because with one strong arm, he lifted me from the couch to carry me over to the kitchen table. I squealed in delight as I writhed in his embrace.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he made me lean back.
He brushed back the sweat slicked hair from his forehead and licked his lips. “I need a taste of you.”
With a tight grip on my thighs, he spread my legs wide apart before he knelt between them. The warmth of his tongue sent shockwaves to my entire system as he lapped up the remnants of my previous orgasm he gave me on the couch and I arched off the table when he began sucking on my clit.
“Shit, Noah. I’m going to-.”
With two fingers spearing me wide open before pumping in fast succession and his mouth sucking on my sensitive nub, I let the shock of my orgasm tear through me with such a force that it nearly took my breath away.
“Such a good girl,” Noah mused while laying a kiss on the inside of my thigh. “I missed the way you taste.”
I only had a few minutes to breath before he was yanking me off the table to now stand on my feet. He patted my ass.
“Lean your hands against the window,” he nodded towards the patio door.
“What-?” I shuffled on my feet.
Noah’s lips attacked mine in a ravenous kiss and when he pulled away, he brushed my arousal off of his lips with his thumb. His bracelet and necklace glinted in the light from the lamppost outside.
“Be a good girl, Y/N, and do what I say,” his voice was as dark as his eyes.
Not wanting to disappoint, I quickly made my way over to the patio door that led out to our balcony and rested my psalm against the glass.Thankfully we shut off all but one of the lights so no one would be able to peer up into our apartment and see what we were doing.
"Keep your hands on the window," he demanded and then yanked my hips back to him so I was bent over.
Nodding furiously, I spread my hands against the window of the patio door when his cocked slipped inside of me again, his name falling off my lips in a prayer.
“That’s right, pray to your king,” Noah rasped as he bit down on my shoulder.
One tattooed arm wrapped around my stomach while the other tightened around my throat to bring my chest against his back, this new angle making my vision blurry. It felt so good, the burn, and Noah knew how bad I needed it to hurt.
He squeezed until I felt the air being ripped away from me, his cock slamming into me with no sign of stopping. He never held back and I never wanted him too. I needed it to hurt, needed it to burn, that I wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow.
When I felt the darkness creeping to the corners of my eyelids due to how tight he was gripping my throat, I let out a choked moan.
“Safe word?” he muttered into my ear before kissing the skin behind there.
Although his voice was soft and concerning, the way he fucked me was completley different.
I did my best to shake my head with his tight grip around my throat. “Keep. Going. So. Close.”
Noah eased his grip a bit so I could take a deep breath before he tightened it again. My orgasm was so close, I just needed a little something to have it wash over me. As my hand moved to my clit, Noah smacked my ass, the sound echoing through our apartment. Instead, his thumb pressed circles against my clit and that was exactly what I needed to let my orgasm finally release from the tightness of my body. I came with such vigor on Noah’s cock he groaned into my hairline.
“Such a good girl,” he praised while letting go of the vice grip around my throat.
Gulping for hair, I nodded. “Yes.”
Nails dug into the skin of my hips as Noah’s pace became even more frantic, him chasing his own release, and I was so far gone in my post orgasmic haze that I nearly didn’t hear the two words he said.
“Wh-what?” I stuttered.
Noah’s hips stilled for a beat before he let out a deep, guttural groan when he spilled his warm release into me.
“Marry me.”
Before my body could fall into a heap to the ground, Noah lifted me to sit me on the edge of our kitchen island. His large hand cupped my cheek so I had no choice but to gaze upon him. His pupils were blown wide due to our actions and his chest rose and fell as he did his best to catch his breath. His warm cum dripped down my legs onto the cold marble beneath me but I didn’t dare think about the mess. I only thought about those two words.
“What did you say?” I asked, still breathless.
“Marry me,” Noah said again without an ounce of hesitation.
Everything around us seemed to fall away, the eerie quiet of the apartment now ringing loudly in my ears. My heart beat loudly in my chest that I could feel it in my throat when I realized how sincere Noah was. This wasn’t a joke, he meant those words.
As if he thought I was doubting him, he ripped open our junk drawer in the kitchen to pull out a small velvet box and my breath caught in my throat.
“Fuck, you’re serious?” I choked out.
Noah smiled wickedly as he opened the box, the light above the kitchen sink catching the diamond almost instantly. The gold band was thin but the oval shape of the diamond almost sat perfectly against it.
“With you, Y/N. I’ve never been more serious about anything,” he said.
My throat burned in the best way. Never in this lifetime did I ever expect to have such a romantic Valentine's Day. Guys in my past never gave a shit, especially Jacob, so to have Noah go all out was something I wasn't used too but knowing he loved me so much made my heart swell.
I began to nod wildly. “Fuck yes!”
With a laugh, Noah collided our lips together in a fever kiss before reluctantly pulling away to slide the ring onto my finger.
“I didn’t mean to have a cliche proposal on Valentine's day. I planned on asking you if you came overseas but I couldn’t risk not asking you before,” Noah explained.
I wrapped my legs around his naked form to bring him closer to me and I hung my arms around his neck. We were still naked and the cool air from the open window brushed along our heated skin.
“I’m coming with you.”
Noah’s eyes lit up. “You are?”
“Yeah, I need a break and now that we’re engaged, I think we need to celebrate,” I waved the hand with the ring in front of his face playfully.
He grasped it to leave a kiss upon the ring. “Say no more, angel.”
My squeals bounced off the walls of our home as Noah carried me into our bedroom to start our engagement celebrations.
#noah sebastian#noah sebastian and reader#noah sebastian x reader#noah sebastian fic#noah sebastian fanfiction#bad omens#bad omens reader
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No Pain, No Gain | Part 1 | PersonalTrainer!Aemond x fem!reader
Summary: The personal trainer your roommate Baela recommended to you is rude, condescending but also hot as hell. Series Masterlist.
A/N: shoutout to my personal trainer Alex for rotting my brain. This is my first modern!Aemond fic, so any feedback is genuinely appreciated, I hope you enjoy this, it was an absolute ball to write (and there will be more!)
Also I could not post this without tagging some absolute modern!Aemond QUEENS who inspired me to write this. @valeskafics @oneeyedvisenya @sapphire-writes you’re the real ones! Also massive hug to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for hyping me up and being a parent to this child she didn't choose to create.
warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT, 18+, sexual tension, binge eating, mentions of breakup, cursing, dickhead Aemond, reader is horny af, English slang (soz), warnings will be added when needed
To say you were broken-hearted would be a bit of an understatement.
You were angry, annoyed, frustrated, wound up tight and pissed off to the highest degree.
And it showed in how you acted these days as you polished off the salty family-size bag of crisps on your own in 10 minutes flat.
You look over at your phone and sigh when you see it’s already 6 o’clock in the afternoon. Another day sat on the sofa, wallowing in self-pity, eating yourself into oblivion and fairly soon pouring a glass of Baela’s finest white wine (now that it was officially almost evening anyway and it was justified).
Scrolling through instagram was like twisting the dagger that was already in your chest. All that stupid fucking app could show you was ‘ex in the bar with his new girlfriend’, ‘ex in the drive-thru with his new girlfriend’, ‘ex on the beach with his new girlfriend’.
It made you want to throw your phone directly at the wall. But you settled for squeezing the life out of it, imagining it was your ex’s stupid face instead.
The absolute waste of space had broken up with you over text on the night you were supposed to go out on a date. And as if that was not bad enough, not even two weeks had gone by before he’d managed to stick his dick into someone else with a pulse. At the time, you were so angry that you didn’t accuse him of anything, he’d already broken up with you. But you did suspect that this ‘sudden’ relationship he’d gotten into wasn’t as recent as first thought.
It’s been a month since you found out about the other woman.
And clearly you were coping really well.
Indulging wasn’t something you usually did, but now you feel you deserved it.
“Hello~” the soft, ringing voice of your roommate Baela was at the door. You half-considered hiding all the packets of various foods you’d managed to stuff down your gob, but Baela had seen worse of you. She’d seen you while you were throwing your guts up after freshers week at university. Nothing was worse than that and you shuddered at the memory.
She walks in, looking more put together than you by a long way, having been hanging out with her sister all day. That’s what you like about Baela, she’s not judgemental, and so when she sees you’ve barely moved an inch she just flashes her usual smile.
“Good day then?” she says with a smirk. You raise your eyebrows in return.
“Apart from seeing him plastered all over instagram I’m great”
“Got any left?” she asks, extending a greedy hand for a crisp. You offer her the bag with a sigh as she slumps on the sofa next to you. She watches boredly whatever you have on the TV,
"Why don't you just block him?" She asks. And to be fair, she has a point.
But you huff and shove another crisp in your mouth, whining, "Cos I'm a nosy bitch with no boundaries"
Baela sighs, pulling out her own phone and scrolling through her notifications, "As much as I love you y/n, this is pathetic, even for you"
You'd be offended if she wasn't completely right. And you know she's only half joking so you just shrug.
"How was Rhaena?" You ask.
"Yeah fine, usual shit with Dad. Oh I didn't tell you-" she starts.
She has that glint in her eye which spells trouble. She's got gossip and you raise your eyebrows in anticipation.
"Hold that thought, wine first?"
"Obviously"
After giggling and waltzing over to the counter to pour two glasses of the finest box wine you could get for under seven English pounds, you hand her one and wait almost too excitedly for her to spill whatever sweet gossip she has.
She sips it, almost like she needs the liquid courage to begin, and she hisses at the sweet, acidic taste.
"God that's foul"
"It was 2 for 1!" You retort with a laugh, but she is right, it does taste foul, "Stop stalling, tell me tell me tell me"
She looks at you as if to say bitch, you are not fucking ready.
“Dad’s married Rhaenyra”
The force of which your jaw drops open is almost comical. You’d guessed for a while that they were at least fucking, but to just elope?!
“I need money, cos I betted on this shit happening!”
“Oh my gosh, Rhaena was fucking hysterical. Jace and Luke aren’t surprised at all, but Alicent is beside herself in the family group chat, it should honestly be a reality TV show” Baela says scrolling through said group chat. From what you can see without being too nosy, is that there’s a lot of long paragraphs and angry emojis.
“What about Viserys, surely he’s…” you ask, trailing off to sip the pissy wine in your hands.
“Oh no, he’s thrilled. Which pisses Alicent off even more if that’s possible”
“Baela I think your Uncle’s gone insane” you bite your lip to stifle a laugh.
“No fucking kidding”
You slump back onto the sofa, “Holy shit, I am a genius. I knew the whole time” you say, smirking in victory.
“And so humble too” Baela gives a sarcastic grin which you return.
“How do you feel about it?”
Baela shucks her phone onto the coffee table, sighing, “Not bothered, we’re all adults now, so it hardly makes a difference to me. Suppose it’ll get Dad to stop bringing back random women now” she says exasperated, “but Rhaenyra gets the impression we’re all really bothered so she’s invited us all to a retreat for a week. Think she just wants to butter us up for marrying our Dad”
“Oh? Anywhere nice?”
Baela looks over, giving you a wearied look.
“What?”
“Well that brings me to you”
“Oh god, what” you ask, dropping the tone to emphasise the seriousness of the talk all of a sudden.
Baela fiddles with the remote, in an attempt to appear cute, “Well~ There’s a spare ticket going and you’re my bestest friend. And I would hate to endure a week of watching my Dad eat Rhaenyra’s face off, so come with me please?” she begs.
You sigh, “Baela usually I would love to sponge off you like that but-”
“Pleasepleaseplease~” she begs, “Rhaena’s bringing her boyfriend and we’re basically together!”
You fake a gagging sound.
“Oh come on, a week on a beach in bikinis,sweltering weather with as many cocktails as you can hold isn’t exactly torture”
You give her an incredulous look, opening your arms to emphasise all the bags of junk food around you, “Do I look beach body ready to you?!”
“Oh fuck off, you’re hot and have an ass that can keep the world fed”
“I know I am hot, I just don’t feel hot” you stare blankly at the TV, trying to ignore her and stuff another crisp into your mouth.
Baela sighs, “I was just thinking it would be a nice distraction, that’s all”
“I want to it’s just…” you start, trying to think of the right words, “...I don’t feel my best”
Baela gives you a playful slap on your arm, “Look, forget your ex, he’s dumb as fuck and it’s not solving anything by staying inside with the curtains drawn all day. If you want to feel better, might be worth taking care of yourself a bit, hm?”
Fuck her, you think, rolling your eyes, she’s right.
You hate how often she’s right. Because she gets that look on her face when she is. Always has done.
“How about that gym membership you’ve not used since February?” she asks,
“Okay firstly, ouch. Secondly, I realised I don’t know the first thing about how to work out in a gym, besides the guys there were…weird”
You shudder at the thought. It was January and so all the new year’s resolution guys were at it in full swing, using the gym as a means to try and pick up girls. And since graduating you find that more often than not the guys who hit on you were students. Maybe it was different now?
Baela pokes her cheek with her tongue, racking her brain.
“One of my cousins is a personal trainer? I could text him to see if he’s happy to take you on. Mates rates” she smiles.
You side-eye her hard. You’ve heard briefly about her cousins. Some of the stories are a bit more…eccentric than others. And even though you’ve never met them, you’ve heard enough stories to satisfy your curiosity.
“This isn’t the manwhore cousin, right? Because if it is then no”
She scoffs, “No. Aegon hasn’t set food in a gym since graduating and he only went cos it was free. The personal trainer one is Aemond. He’s a bit…anti-social?” she pulls a face when she says it.
“He’s anti-social and he’s a personal trainer?” you ask, eyebrow raised, “makes so much sense”
Baela scrolls through her contacts, “Yeahhh. Don’t worry though, he’s just grumpy” she explains, “want me to text him?”
Your head falls to the edge of the sofa in a huff. You want to go and on top of that, it might be nice to finally have a break. That and you’d love to shove it in your exes face when he sees you’re on holiday looking your hottest.
“How long ‘til the holiday?”
Baela grins victoriously, “A month and a bit. He does a month course for stuff like this, I can ask him about it”
What the fuck am I getting myself into, you think briefly.
Fuck it.
“Fine”
The force at which Baela’s nails tap against the screen is almost desperate.
Baela snorts a laugh at the message and turns her phone to show you the messages.
“He seems lovely” you roll your eyes sarcastically.
“Like I said, he’s just grumpy. He’ll be professional though” she says.
You sigh, crushing the empty bag of crisps in your hands.
“Can’t wait”
After following him on instagram, you did a bit of shameless stalking. You’d heard a little bit about Aemond from Baela talking about her family, but he seemed the most mysterious out of all of them (save for the youngest whose name she struggled to even remember).
He had very little photos of himself, mainly progress pictures of other clients he’s helped. And he seems to be pretty successful so far. A girl with a similar body to you managed to get toned on his one-month program and looked hot afterwards, so you had some high hopes that it was possible for you as well. But you did wonder what he looked like. There were only two photos where he was in frame, and he’d been tagged by another person, looking away from the camera.
From what you could see, he was very tall, lithe and slim but built, with silver hair that had been pulled up into a bun. Ah, so he’s a man-bun type of guy. Yikes.
Unfortunately, the photo showed very little of his face, so you couldn’t be too nosy.
You sent a very brief message, introducing yourself, trying not to cringe at the idea that he might be doing the exact same stalking to your instagram right at this moment. A shiver went up your spine at the thought.
It’s only when you’re in TKMaxx with Baela, shopping for gym gear the next day, that you finally get a reply from him.
“What do you think of just wearing a sports bra?” Baela says, eyeing up a black shirt.
You’re too busy staring at the message, “Hm? Oh, I’d just go in gym leggings and a bra yeah. Just got a reply from your mysterious cousin”
Baela hops over, “What’s he said? Nothing bad I hope” she grins.
You show her the screen.
Baela raises her eyebrows, “Very formal. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised” she says, seeming surprised that he’s at least cordial.
“It’s very ‘serial-killer-esque’ of him not to have a profile picture” you joke, locking your phone again.
Baela picks out a black gym set. Black leggings with a mesh pocket on the side for your phone and a black sports bra. You nod, “Yeah looks good to me”
“Oh please you’re gonna look hot in this” she smirks, leading you over to the counter to pay.
She rewards you for your efforts by driving you to McDonald's drive-thru. A send off to junk-food so to speak.
And when Monday rolls around, you nod in the mirror. She was right, it does look hot on you. At least in the safety of your flat where there’s nobody to look at you. In a gym, surrounded by other fit people and a personal trainer you’ve never met? It might feel slightly different.
There’s a faint swirl of anxiety in your gut but you pull your trainers on, grab a hair tie from your nightstand and drive to the gym you’ve agreed to meet at. Luckily it’s your local gym, large and packed to the brim with some good equipment at least. And you briefly wonder what kind of workouts you’ll be doing before pulling into the car park.
You see him as soon as you enter the gym. He’s very tall, slender but muscular and fucking gorgeous. What the fuck, is all you can think when you shamelessly scan him from head to toe. Like the pictures, he has his long silver hair in a bun, with a few pieces having come free and falling around his face. His legs are miles long in the black sweats he’s wearing, as well as the black top that sticks a bit too snugly to his front and shoulders, making your mouth water a bit.
And you can’t help but admire his side profile, how his jaw just so naturally and sharply juts into his chin. How his cheekbones sit so prominently and high on his face, framing his features. His sharp, defined nose. And you can’t see from here because he’s looking down at his phone, but his eyelashes are unnaturally long for a man. It’s just unfair, frankly.
Shaking yourself briefly from the trance you were in, you right yourself and approach him.
He looks up to see you before you even have a chance to open your mouth. Now that he's looking at you face on, you can see the shocking blue of his right eye and the paler, soft hue of the other. Not only that but the angry scar that ran down the side of his face, extending from his forehead to the mid part of his cheek, straight through the eye.
You look at it for a split second, surmising that perhaps he's partially sighted or blind in that eye. But you choose not to say anything and instead smile with an awkward wave.
"Hey, you must be Aemond"
He openly drags his eyes over you, from head to toe, just like you did a moment ago without his knowledge. But now that you're standing right in front of him, in the gym gear that you totally don't feel a bit self conscious in, it feels a bit weird.
He doesn't reply for a moment.
"I'm y/n" you say, forcing a smile to your nervous face.
"Hm" he responds lowly, "Baela's friend"
You pull an awkward face and nod.
You feel so stupidly small against this absolute giraffe of a man and you daren't step forward any more, for fear of looking even smaller under his judgemental and indifferent gaze.
He sighs and gestures for you to follow him, seeming disinterested as he looks down at his phone. For a brief second you wonder how this guy keeps his clients if he's this rude, but you shake the thought away, not wanting to judge too quickly.
He leads you into one of the consultation rooms, separate from the rest of the gym. He sits on one of the seats, sighing as if he's had the hardest day in the world and taking a swig of water from his bottle.
Sat across from him, you feel a bit small under his gaze. He's quite intimidating, you now find.
"Have you ever worked out before" he asks flatly.
You shrug, "I've tried I guess, but never super seriously" you laugh awkwardly, but he doesn't return it.
He runs his eyes over you again, as if to say yeah I can see that.
"Stand up. Shoes off. We're going to take your weight and measurements" he orders, going to his bag to grab some things.
It's beyond awkward and quiet in the room with him as he idly takes down your weight, height and current eating habits, which you've had to be more honest about than you'd cared to admit.
Standing in the middle of the room, he twirls his measuring tape on his fingers. He measures your upper body first, which isn't too bad until he gets to your bust. You try and look anywhere else in the room while he measures across it, his fingers landing softly at either arm, taking a note of the measurement. You internally scold yourself, he is so much taller and surely must be able to see right down the sports bra. It only serves to make your face heat up with embarrassment.
If that wasn't enough, he gets to your lower body, measuring your hips and then thighs. He gets to his knees to do it and you resist the urge to pull your hands into fists at the proximity of him to your intimate area, separated only by a thin pair of gym leggings and underwear.
He doesn't seem to bother himself with the awkwardness. And every time you look at his face, he seems indifferent, bored even. Even then, his face is unnaturally beautiful, even with the scar.
He must really not like people.
Aemond sighs having taken all his notes.
"We'll do one training session and see how much weight we can do" he instructs. You nod.
"I expect you to be in the gym four times a week, three in the week and once at the weekend. We'll do one session together a week so I can check your progress"
His tone is so flat, all you can do is nod. He looks at you,
"Got it?"
Your cheeks heat up, "Um, yeah"
"Good"
He leads you outside to the actual gym floor which luckily isn't too busy, side-eyeing you massively when you pull your hair up into a ponytail to get it off your neck.
His large form leads you over to where the mats are kept, haphazardly throwing two to the floor.
He doesn't say anything past one or two word commands and it's incredibly difficult to not look in the mirror in front of you to watch him as he stretches. The way he stretches his arms over his head and it lifts the hem of his shirt a little, showing his happy trail, biceps rippling.
And when he does leg stretches, instructing you to do the same, you can't help but stare at how his thighs are basically bulging out from his sweats. It takes all of your strength and will to not look any higher than that towards his hips.
He watches your form as you try and copy him stretching. And your heart almost leaps into your chest when he uses his hand to move your ankle slightly, so that you put pressure on a certain muscle. But he focuses completely, professional.
Fuck, be professional.
All caution is thrown completely to the wind when he gets you on machines. He demonstrates some of them first, starting with the so-called 'easier' ones, like the inner and outer thigh machines that look way too…suggestive.
Of course, he's got it on a ridiculous weight to demonstrate which makes you scoff a bit. And when you get on the inner thigh machine, it locks into place with your legs spread. You thank every god there is that there's no mirror in front of you on this machine.
"You have to start with your legs spread as much as possible" he states simply, pushing the pads against your legs even further. It makes your eyes widen, sinful thoughts pop up in your head. But before they take root you shake them away.
It's ridiculously hard the first few times and he raises an eyebrow.
"Really?" He mocks a bit, the tiniest of smirks on his face "you're only on 14kg"
"Fuck off" you mutter under your breath. He tuts and changes it to 9kg, bruising your ego a bit. But you finish the set nonetheless.
You think he's a bit of a psycho, because after that little remark he has you on every leg machine available. Making fun every time you have to be on the lowest weight.
After the session, you're aching in places you didn't even know existed and you haven't even rested yet. Knowing full well you'll be achy as fuck tomorrow and even wlrse than right now. The faintest sheen of sweet is visible on your pinkened chest.
"You're weaker than I thought"
He runs his long fingers through his hair and you want to slap that stupid fucking self-indulgent look off his smug face seeing you all out of puff like this.
"Thanks, means a lot" you say sarcastically, drinking from a water bottle. He raises an eyebrow at the attitude.
"I'll send you your workout plan. If you have any issues do me a favour and don't bother me with them" he retorts.
"Charming" you mutter under your breath once he's gone past you. You watch as he walks away, briefly appreciating his broad shoulders, until the sour taste of his poor behaviour settles in. And you huff, texting Baela immediately.
You curse every god there is that you drive a manual car, because right now the thought of having your aching leg pressing on the clutch pedal might actually drive you to mass-murder.
This is going to be a long month.
Taglist: @mrsgrwy @lovelykhaleesiii
#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond smut#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x you#aemond fanfiction#aemond fic#modern!aemond targaryen#modern!aemond x reader#modern!aemond#modern!aemond smut#modern!hotd#aemomd targaryen smut#aemond one eye#aemond stannies#personaltrainer!aemond#aemomd x you#aemond imagine#modern!aemond targaryen x you#modern!aemond targaryen x reader
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Hello friends! It's been way way way way WAY too long since we chatted, and to be honest I've been taking an embarrassingly long time to write this update post because godDAMN life just gets you sometimes and you go on an impromptu hiatus that gets super messy. So let's get into what's been going on and what to look forward to!
Pedro Tax for this long-ass post.
(We're gonna get into some personal stuff, but if you're just here for what's coming up skip down to WHAT'S NEXT for the tl;dr version)
So beyond work getting hectic from January to March, which was the catalyst for everything getting wacky, I experienced a weird emotional turn that I wasn't expecting. It made me get a little introspective, which I blame some of my productivity slump on.
As I was finishing up the Bangathon entries, I noticed a sharp decline in interaction. I'm a fairly young fic writer on Tumblr, but I was a little baffled as to why stories I'd posted only a week before got a nice bit of interaction yet the newer ones were only getting half to a quarter of what I expected. For a minute I thought I had been shadowbanned (I was not) or I hadn't tagged the posts (I had) or my taglists weren't working (they were). People were already talking about interaction being lower, so I sat back and tried to go with the flow and not let it bother me. I posted Decoherence, which has a more niche audience, but I was definitely missing and wishing for some of the comments and reblogs I thought I might get.
All this led up to one of the least favorite voices in my head saying something that stuck around:
"Well, you were right not to become a writer if your motivation is this closely tied to feedback."
If you're new here or I haven't talked about it much recently, I initially was planning to be a writer. Went to school for it and everything. While I was there I felt like I hadn't found the stories I wanted to tell yet. My colleagues were developing in their niches and writing "the great American novel" and I didn't feel like I fit in. My stories had a lukewarm reception, and I never felt like anyone was excited about anything I was trying to say. So I wrote myself into burnout by the time I graduated with not much to show for it. I ended up doing a career switch, which I love to this day, but I stopped writing for almost 10 years.
Coming to Tumblr, I felt that spark of excitement writing again, and some of that was definitely due to people commenting and being excited or interested in the stories I was sharing. That truly revived something in me I thought was long gone, and reflecting back on the last two years that I've been sharing stories with this community makes me wildly emotional. I didn't know how much I missed of the life I left behind, and how much joy it brought me to share stories again.
Which is why it was SUPREMELY FRUSTRATING to have that shitty little voice pulverize my productivity and excitement over something as silly as interaction. But I'm sure most of you know how hard it is to get that voice out of your head. I worked to write things I found fun and less stressful than the series I already felt bad for not updating. And while I still love those stories, it felt like I was pulling them from an inauthentic place and finishing them wasn't as satisfying as I'd hoped.
Thus the hiatus! I stopped writing and turned my attentions to consuming and creating in other ways. I watched some shows I'd been meaning to catch up on, started planning to buy a house, worked my butt off at the day job. And I was starting to feel like inspiration was coming back. I didn't want to spook it so I took my time and promised myself I was going to start small and not stress about getting stories out for a bit.
Top that off with some medical surprises, an upcoming surgery, and a little re-evaluation of life moving forward and things have been wild. But I've been missing the daily joy I get from being part of this fandom, and I'm getting back into being here more because I miss you guys! AND! I have stories I want to share and fun to be had. So let's shake off all the heavy shit and get to the fun stuff!
WHAT'S NEXT!
The big thing I'm getting ready to post (after teasing it for so long) is the 2024 Bangathon! This one is different from last year's because instead of requesting stories from me, the Bangathon is open to anyone who wants to participate! There will be a randomizer to play with, and some fun bonuses for those who participate. The announcement will be coming out soon, stay tuned!
As for fics, here are some updates on what's in my WIPs:
Series:
I Think of You: I spent some time rewatching Mando for the newest installment, and I've finally gotten the thread of where to go next thought out. It's been a long time coming so this one's gonna be BEEFY to make up for it.
SW!Frankie: I am crushed to realize it's been over a year since I posted any SW!Frankie! I've got a new story about him and Ms J moving in together I need to finish, then some more asks that are getting into new story arcs I'm excited to share!
Best Laid Plans: Dieter and Murch's first date is bouncing around in my head and I NEED to get it on paper. There's much fun to be had, and I've been binge listening to my playlist for them to get into the headspace.
Midnight Alley: I got all up in my own head about continuing the story with these two and lost a little steam, so I'm going to ease off my "big plans" and start smaller with some oneshots instead. I think it'll help me find out where I want this story to go.
One Shots in Progress:
Decoherence Follow-Up
Incubus!Dieter Ask
You know, laying it out like that makes it feel much more manageable than my brain was telling me! I'm also planning to prioritize more fic reading while I'm getting these updates in ship-shape. Reading your stories always helps get my creative juices flowing, and there are so many good ones lingering in my TBR list that I need to devour.
This has been a rollercoaster of emotions, so thank you for coming on the ride with me. I'm excited to bring more of myself back to Tumblr and have fun with all of you again! To many more stories!
#prolix wips#I'm sorry I've been away for so long!#but I'm back!#if there are things I missed please tag me or send them!#I want to read all your stories!
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Could you write Bella swan x tall fem vampire reader? I need reader to feed on humans that are criminals and almost always smokin a cigarette
Omg yes gay Bella is the best version of her. THIS FIC IS NOT COMPLETED, I FELT BAD FOR TAKING SO LONG SO HERES A SHORT VERSION, I WILL ADD TO IT SOON WOTH A MUCH LONGER ENDING!!!! if you want to be tagged in the finish product lmk. Also there are themes of sa (think alleyway scene in first movie) and I know that's an uncomfortable subject so I kinda glazed over and left out detail for that part.
Bella Swan let out a huff of boredom as she walked down the dreary street. An attempt to regain her friendship with Jessica ended up with Jess being spooked. Bellas new tastes were too "extreme " for her and now Bella was left alone, outside the movie theater in Port Angeles. A little miffed but not unpleasant to be alone again, she decided to not make waste of the evening out. Unsure of where to go, she headed forward, down the dark path of concrete, narrowly missing a chance ride on a motorcycle. Bella was in a dark place. Mentally, always, but right now her mind led her to enter a particularly dingey alley way. Her heart seemed to pull her towards the dark abyss before her, much like how her heart pulled her towards biology class on her first day at Forks High.
As she neared a turn in the path a sinking feeling began to creep up her spine. A feeling she had not felt since...
There was a man. Smoking, head turned pointedly towards the ground. He stood there like a beacon to Bella.
Something to make him see me
The man looked up, with that familiar look. Sinister comments laced with something sickly sweet, and Bella knew he'd come running. He had to have, surely he would. The man was not shy in his approach, and Bella did her best to stay calm. Every seccond her safety grew thin. Every minute she took one apprehensive step back. Until there were no more steps to take. Just keep it up for a little while longer, she told herself. He'll be here any moment.
But that moment never came. The sinking realization that Bella was alone with this man, and Edward was nowhere to be found made her stomach drop.
Just when she was about to really try to scream and run, the man was shoved to the wall opposite to Bella, the speed of it whooshing in her face. She knew what it was, the who was not certain. Her headt skipped wildly.
He came! After all!
These thoughts were cut short after she quickly realized her saviour was female. Maybe Alice had seen her in danger and come to the rescue. But this was not Alice. Not Alice, not Esme, not Rosalie, not even Victoria.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's impolite to harass pretty girls?"
The metallic tone dripped from the vampires lips, before a crunch was heard. This was no vegetarian, that's for sure. Bella stood, stuck to the wall like flies in a glue trap. Not afraid as she once was, but she knew how crazed normal vampires could be.
Once she was done drinking she turned around with a cool look on her face.
"Thanks" the human girl replied with ample sincerity.
The vampire held a quizzical expression. No fear? No running? No concern or confusion? Seeing this, quiet Bella made an attempt to explain.
"I've been around vampires before"
"Ah" was all the ethereal woman said. The way she said it reminded her of him.
She reached into her old denim jeans and retrieved a cigarette of all things. How odd, Bella thought. She let out a huff of laughter. The flame from the lighter contrasted with cool toned skin, followed by a drag and blow of smoke. The woman looked at her cigarette and spoke again.
"Started as a human, was never able to kick it. Not like it can kill me anyway." She outstretched her hand and offered Bella the cigarette. Bella looked meek and wide eyed. Not wanting to seem "uncool" She took it and gave it a try. She inhaled wrong, she exhaled wrong and then coughed too much. The woman laughed and gave her a pat on the back, red eyes crinkled with amusement.
"you're just a baby aren't ya?"
Bellas face turned beet red. "No I'm not, I just, just never had one before." She stuttered out.
"Breathe in a little, hold, breathe out."
Bella tried to listen to the advice given to her but all she could focus on was the way her voice hit the air. A warm feeling filled her despite the cold weather. A parasitic curiosity filled her. Who was she? Where was she from? How old? Name? Favorite this? Favorite that? Bella wanted to know everything and anything about her, immediately. She knew she would follow this woman to the ends of the earth, and Edward could go fuck himself.
#twilight#bella swan#requests#open requests#twilight fanfiction#twilight fandom#bella swan x reader#bella swan x you#bella swan x fem!reader#twilight x reader#edward cullen
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MISSION SUCCESS MUHAHAH I'd take any of the prompts from you really, so how about 21? Wildcard! Dealers choice! My only request is that it's in-universe 😚
(if you can't decide then maybe bloody kiss? I did once say that you writing angst would be the ultimate win for me)
Alright!! I've finally finished this first prompt!! Both of you, @lightasthesun and anon, wanted bloody kiss so here we are. Ann, since you wanted angst, I believe I am delivering that. However. You must know I'm not an angst person so I cried three times while writing this despite knowing it has a happy ending. You will pay somehow.
Pairing: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 1,851
Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Major Character Injury, First Kiss, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending
Summary:
All things considered, Cody probably should have seen it coming.
[ OR: Cody gets shot off a cliff. This is obviously quite dire. If he's got one chance left to kiss Obi-Wan, he'll take it. ]
(fic under the cut if you wish to read here on tumblr)
All things considered, Cody probably should've seen it coming.
He didn't.
There was a moment, just one, where he looked over his shoulder at his General and their troops. It was oddly peaceful, trudging forward together. He had a passing thought that moments like that were rare.
He was on a cliff. And then he wasn't.
Somewhere amidst the blast, the rush of blood in his ears, the icy lurch of his stomach, and a panicked thought that he really should've worn his jetpack, he heard a shout.
It might have been his own voice. He couldn't be sure.
The fall was rough. His body seemed to find every jutting rock off the side of the cliff to bounce off of. He says bounce. The gravity on this planet is stronger than most. It was more of a solid collision straight down with the weight of his body rolling him off every surface he met until he fell straight through air to what he thinks is the ground.
He blinks rapidly, spots of black dancing across his vision. Breaths come out shallow and laboured and- is it silent? Where's the sound? Is it- there's a high pitched ringing and-
"-ody! Cody!"
The spotty sky is cut by blurs of Obi-Wan. There are lines down- oh. His visor must be shattered. Nevertheless, he doesn't like the expression on his general's face.
"Cody," it's husked out, too harried and somehow gentle at once.
"Sir," Cody tries to say. It comes out raspy and gurgled. His mouth tastes of iron. This isn't good. "Did you-" a cough wracks his body and it's perhaps the most painful moment of his existence, "jump?"
"You know the answer to that."
Against his better judgment, Cody feels compelled to sit up at that. He can't quite pinpoint which part of his body protests most. It all turns into one searing blaze of pain. His vision blurs.
He heaves a great stuttered breath which seems to hurt almost as much.
He knows it's bad.
"The men need you," he tries.
"At the moment you need me more."
"Sir."
"Cody, please."
Cody closes his eyes. Breathes as shallowly as he can. A tear trails down his cheek. He swallows dryly. "Can't move."
"Oh, Cody."
"Can you- helmet?"
There's the hiss of his bucket coming unlatched and then it's tugged free.
With the increased range of vision, he glances down at whatever he can make out of himself. It's not pretty. Plastoid is somehow painted red and his left arm seems to be twisted at an unnatural angle.
Yeah. He's not making it out of this alive.
He drinks in the sight Obi-Wan makes above him, hair flopped over his forehead, a smear of ash across his cheek. He's beautiful.
The warmest, kindest hand cradles Cody's cheek. "I'll get you a med-evac-"
"They cut off," Cody fights a wheeze, "communications, remember?" A wet cough erupts violently- shaking him from the inside out. Time ceases through the blinding pain. When his lungs quiet there's wetness falling down his face. Blood and tears. "You've gotta go, sir."
"No, Cody. No."
"Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan goes stockstill, staring with wide, wet eyes. Too soft. Too full of urgency and pain and yearning. He's always trying to get Cody to refer to him by his first name.
There's always a first time for everything. And a last.
"C'mere."
"Cody," Obi-Wan says even as he leans in closer and rubs a thumb across Cody's cheek. Their foreheads meet. He can't decide if Obi-Wan’s breath on his skin is comforting or exhilarating.
With all the strength he can muster, Cody tilts up his chin and closes the remaining distance between them.
A kiss.
Warm press of lips to lips. Just the hint of facial hair brushing against his skin. He can't imagine it gets better than this, even with lips as cracked as they are and wet with blood instead of a balm or saliva. It's not as if he knows better. It's his first kiss after all.
Another first and last.
It's only fitting for it to be with Obi-Wan. The person he's very privately begun to think of as the love of his life.
In another life, when he opened his eyes after their first kiss, the cause of his blurred vision would be Obi-Wan's fault alone. "Always wanted to do that," Cody croaks.
It's true. He's wanted a lot of things. A lot of simple, impossible things that will never be. But. He's dying here and now. He knows how to make the best out of a bad situation.
Obi-Wan’s expression is nothing short of cracked through and through with devastation. "I won't leave you here."
He doesn't think he's ever heard his general’s voice clogged with tears before.
"You will.”
And because he doesn't have to pretend anymore that he doesn't want to touch his general--that he doesn't want to feel his skin and share his breath and know him in the most intimate of ways--Cody reaches for Obi-Wan's hand.
In an instant, his stomach churns as his vision swims, he realizes his mistake. That was his mangled arm he tried to move. The tide of the pain is too strong to fight. Obi-Wan blurs to nothing but a smear, words turn to garbled noises and-
The world goes black.
[Beep]
[Beep]
[Beep]
Cody comes to with the groggy need to open his eyes. It’s a struggle. Seemingly with the weight of an AT-AT upon his eyelids, he blinks his eyes open to searing bright white. Immediately his eyes shut. Not to be deterred, he tries again, blinking steadily until he can see.
Sterile white ceiling. Fluorescent lamps. A flimsy curtain. Annoying beeping.
He's in a med bay.
Tubes and wires. Barely patterned sheet. A hand holding his own-
A chunk of unmistakable ginger bangs flopping onto an eyebrow. Tired eyes looking at Cody so fondly, creases of a smile drawing from the edges of his eyes down his cheeks.
“They said you'd awaken soon,” says Obi-Wan. A thumb strokes Cody's wrist.
"'m I dead?" Cody croaks. His throat is drier than the heated days on Geonosis. He frowns. Obi-Wan is here. That isn’t right. "Are we both dead?"
"I should certainly hope not.”
So. Not dead.
Well.
That's unexpected.
“Wha-” Cody's throat catches on a cough and he splutters roughly.
“Here, here, dear.” Obi-Wan’s there with a cup of water, directing a straw past his chapped lips.
He sips the water down gratefully, satisfied as it soothes the parched gravel of his throat. He tilts his head away when he's done and Obi-Wan puts the cup down.
“What happened?” Cody tries again.
“How about I tell you later? After Egg has checked you-”
No. That won't do.
“Sir,” he interrupts, unyielding, “Sitrep.”
Obi-Wan must be tired because he doesn't even try to do their usual mutually stubborn staring match; he just sighs. “Ghost company managed to infiltrate the Separatist base and contact the admiral to request reinforcements and med-evac.”
Cody narrows his eyes. There is a glaring gap of information. “Where were you?”
“With you,” he says plainly.
Cody opens his mouth to say something but Obi-Wan effortlessly silences him by placing his hand over Cody's once more.
“I wouldn't leave any of my men behind to die, but, you- Cody.” There is a deep ocean of emotion pooled in Obi-Wan's eyes and spoken in the two syllables of Cody's name. “I couldn't leave you. Not like that.” Obi-Wan sighs as if expelling the weight from his shoulders. "And,” the corner of his mustache twitches upwards, “personally, I think I deserve a better kiss.”
“You- what?” Cody's brain flickers mid thought.
“The kiss. I deserve a better one, “ he says with near haughty conviction. “It was rude, quite frankly, to kiss me and nearly die. Gave me quite the fright.”
Cody swallows, his mouth suddenly dry again. “Is that so?”
“Mhm.”
Cody's eyes cannot be dragged away from Obi-Wan's lips. As Obi-Wan sits on the edge of the bed, all Cody can see is the hint of teeth catching on Obi-Wan's pink bottom lip.
He's closer now. Closer still as he gently pitches himself over Cody.
Fuck. Fuck.
“Kiss me,” Obi-Wan breathes.
It's not an order. Not really. Cody is helpless but to obey.
He makes a wounded noise into the meeting of their lips.
Obi-Wan is so soft and warm- his lips, his beard, the nudge of his nose. His hand slowly trails up Cody's good arm, bare as Cody seems to only be wearing a med gown. Sparks dance up his skin.
As their lips push and pull into kiss after kiss, heat grows inside Cody's chest and belly, competing with his fluttering stomach, elated and happy and-
“Ahem.”
Their lips separate with a smack. Reality filters in alongside the sound of rapid, high pitched beeping. Obi-Wan pulls away, expression nothing short of sheepish.
Their highest ranking medical officer, Egg, approaches the bed. “I see you're awake and someone failed to notify me.”
“Yes, well-” Obi-Wan starts, face adorably growing pink.
Egg ignores him. “Commander, how are you feeling?” As he speaks, he taps buttons on a machine attached to the wall which blissfully makes the beeping stop. “Any discomfort? Nausea? Pain?”
Cody sets aside the embarrassment of being caught and evaluates himself. He feels… surprisingly fine. “No, nothing.”
“Good. If that changes you've got a button you can easily request more meds with. Use it; there's nothing valiant in unnecessary suffering.”
Cody nods, fully aware he needs to cooperate if he wants to stay on Egg’s good side.
"And, General,” Egg looks directly at Obi-Wan for the first time, “stop making my patient tachycardic."
"I make no such promises.”
Cody shoots him A Look.
“Darling,” oh Force- this is a development Cody had not seen coming, “I do endeavor to never make a promise I can't keep.”
Okay. Well. That's-
Egg sighs, long and weary. “I'll be back in roughly two hours for rounds. If you spill any body fluids in my med bay I'll be requesting your transport to The Resolute med bay. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” both Cody and Obi-Wan respond.
With that, Egg makes his departure, fully swooshing open the privacy curtain before leaving the room.
There is a moment of relative silence. Cody realizes that Obi-Wan is once again holding his hand. He likes it. He likes it a lot.
“That couldn't have gone better,” Obi-Wan announces cheerily.
Cody can't help it.
He laughs.
It starts small, just a huff of breath out his nose until he's wheezing, lips stretched over gum and tears dripping down his face, clutching Obi-Wan who similarly chortles. His laughter is the most joyous of music.
He's alive. Miraculously. And somehow- somehow they're doing things like hold hands now.
It strikes Cody that, although he's confined to this awful med bay bed, for the first time in his life he feels happy. He's actually, truly happy.
There's no way it can last but he hopes he'll remember this moment forever. Acting an absolute fool with the man he loves most. Happy.
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Bunny Ears (Part 7) ~William Afton X F! Reader~
~Sorry for the very silly previous part, it was part of a headcannon me and friend had and it was too good to not write about. *Cue 'was that the bite of '87?!' Meme here*~
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
Tag List: @ruh--roh-raggy @h4nluv @sleepy---head @do-double-g @confiscated-peaches-main @dij-ology @viviennemuerte @robin-the-enby @shari-berri @randymeeksisafinalgirl @hallow1090
Cw: CW: Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - 30's), divorce/processing divorce, Afton being a sarcastic hot ass, Henry being such a dad, grumpy x sunshine . Faz-Fuck TM
Half-way through the day, you were only half-way through your shift and you felt as if you could curl up and go to sleep then and there, but you knew you were in for a late night anyway since you still had to wait to be driven home. Henry had been taking you a lot more lately, but tonight he was going to his kid's recital and so you had to wait for Afton, although he was going to be working late in the parts and services room and so you would have to hang around and wait for him.
Looking at the drink in your hand, you went into the staff fridge and grabbed some more water, humming as you moved along the back corridors and kept out of the way of people. Nodding to people as you went past, it was a strangle quiet day at Freddy's. But apparently the local school had a big recital on that night so most kids were there, you almost wondered if William wouldn't be going to his daughter's.
Knocking on the door to parts and services, you peered in cautiously. "Are you decent this time William?" you jokingly called out and you heard his deep rumbling laugh in response.
"Depends on what you find decent, sweetheart." He felt the grin spreading across his face as your silence filled his ears, knowing that your cheeks were flushing and you were getting that slightly glazed look as he put the thought in your head.
"But if you mean am I wearing clothes and not shorts today, yes, yes I am very much decent." He chuckled, hearing you step into the room and letting the door close softly behind you. Appearing from behind a shelf with a bottle of water in your hand, smiling in that way that made his chest tight and his body ache to have you curled against him.
"I brought this for you, I figured you would probably be thirsty."
"Cheers sweetheart, I didn't realise the time honestly." He admitted, looking at his watch and smiling at the little bunny bracelet sat just beneath it, knowing you would see he was still wearing it too. Taking the bottle and unscrewing it, gulping down half the bottle in one breath before he gasped for air, feeling better for the cool water as he wiped his brow with his forearm. Not caring as it almost got on his shirt sleeve that had been rolled up as he focused on the animatronic hand in front of him again.
Frowning, you look at your own watch and then back at William, hands on your hips as you realise this was one of the rare times your head was above his whilst he was hunched over and working.
"Do you even eat whilst you're here William?" You asked, not noticing the slight pause as you said his name, turning and raising an eyebrow at you as he sat back in his seat, crossing his arms for a moment and assessing you before he leaned forwards to work again.
"You're spending too much time around Henry, he's being a bad influence." William scoffed, reaching for a fine tipped screwdriver from the bench and reaching into the mechanism he was tinkering with, slowly and carefully turning the pin-fine screw that he hoped would still be stable enough to support the connection he had put it in.
"Oh and you're a perfect influence?" You ask cheekily, smiling at him as you watched him work, leaning in to get a better look at what he was working on.
"Didn't you know I was a perfect school boy growing up? Would never do anything naughty, especially with an innocent young lady like yourself present." Chuckling as he finally managed to get the screw to the perfect tightness and was about to start tightening another nearby, placing down one screwdriver for another as you spoke up.
"What makes you think I'm so innocent William?" You'd stepped closer and almost whispered it against his ear, not close enough to be considered intimate, but your breath barely scraped his ear and he froze. It was your turn to break him as he felt every muscle tense in his body at your words, swallowing hard as a different kind of ache burned in his stomach instead. Clenching his fists and unclenching them as he slowly turned the swivel chair to face you.
His eyes that were usually such a silvery grey seemed almost charcoal under the light as he looked up at you, his expression totally serious despite there being a little sparkle inside them still. You watched his adams apple bob repeatedly, his hands clenching slightly as you stood before him and his eyes seemed to slowly trail up your body. Your stomach sank as you wondered if you had pushed your friendliness too far with him.
"I suppose I deserve that for making you so flustered all the time." He swallowed, averting his eyes from you as you felt guilty at his expression, shoulders sagging slightly and fingers intertwining together and keeping your eyes down on the floor. William ran his hands through his hair and sighed, his head tipped back slightly as he closed his eyes.
"You've got the worst of both us," he joked, opening his eyes and noticing your quizzical look as he tipped his head towards you. "you're caring like Henry and you've now developed my flir-....humour." he said, catching himself before he called it flirting. He was struggling, and he looked at his hands himself.
"I don't think either of them are bad things." You say softly, coming in close to him and nudging him with your shoulder playfully, your fingers brushing against his arm as he looked at you. "I like your...humour, William. I'm sorry I caught you off guard."
"Apology accepted sweetheart, I guess I just wasn't expecting it to come from you." he spoke softly, letting his hand come up and meet yours briefly like some forbidden touch. His ring catching the low light, making you feel ashamed all over again.
"Still friends?" You asked hopefully, your brow furrowed in concern as he gave you a sweet, lopsided smile.
"I wasn't aware we'd stopped."
~~
It became part of your ritual during your shifts after that. For the next two weeks you brought William water and home-made packed lunches, claiming you'd made extra by mistake and it would only go to waste otherwise. Spending what time you could listening to him talking about his projects whilst you both ate, or him listening to you complain about working with the general public. The kids could be great, but the parents could be nightmares, and he fully understood where you were coming from.
But it was a Saturday once again, and the place heaved with children and grown-ups alike. You'd been running around on your feet all day and you were sure your hair was a mess, face an intense smile or locked in concentration unless something snapped you out of it.
A kid came running up to you, although they didn't scream for attention like some kids so you crouched down and spoke to them softly and evenly. "Are you lost kiddo?"
"No..." Their voice was very soft, clearly nervous that you had taken the time to speak to them rather than them being able to run off again. "You're miss spring-bonnie aren't you?"
You blinked at the question, your cheeks heating up as you were asked and tried to think about how to answer.
"Can you clarify what you mean buddy? Like.. how am I miss Spring-Bonnie?"
"You helped him when he fell over!" The kid beamed and suddenly you understood what they meant, chuckling as you nodded. They lit up as you answered and grinned at you leaning in and whispering to you conspiratorially in the loud way that only children could do. "Will you say hello to him for me?"
"Of course! I'm now going to see him, so I'll say hello then." Watching the kid running off and skipping happily as you headed through to the breakroom. Grabbing your lunches out and some sodas as you walked through the back-halls.
The route to parts and services was familiar now, and you knocked on the heavy door to let William know that you were coming in as you stepped through, his head barely turning as he focused intently on the endoskeleton sat between his knees. Shoulders clamped between his knees as he deftly worked on the wires in the head, you carefully stepped around him and placed his lunch down, opening the box and cracking the drink for him so that he could get straight to eating when he was done. Not having to wait long before you heard the creak of metal and a grunt from William as he hefted the metal skeleton onto a stand opposite where he was working.
"This looks great! Thanks for bringing me this, although I'm suspicious about how much you 'overcook'." He said playfully, his hand brushing your back as he raised an eyebrow at you, making you blush and look at your feet before you spotted a clean spot on the workbench, jumping up onto it and sitting facing him as he remained standing, stretching himself out slightly.
"No, really, I'm just shit at measuring whilst cooking." You lied slightly, whilst you weren't the best cook in the world, you were fairly good at estimating only how much would feed you. But you were happy to be cooking extras and that he seemed to be enjoying them.
Eating in silence for the most part, you were always surprised how quickly he ate. Like he was starving or simply that he was worried somebody might take his food from him if he didn't eat it then and there. Taking a swig of his soda, William smiled and placed his hand next to your thigh, making you think he was picking something off the bench next to you.
"Thank you, bunny." he spoke softly, closing the small gap between you and planting a kiss on your lips, leaving you breathless despite the briefness of it. Taking a second to comprehend what happened just as it took William a second to realise too.
"Did..Did you just kiss me?" You asked, blinking and reaching up to your lips and brushing them with your fingers as you watched William's face fall at the same time he looked relieved.
"I guess..I did, didn't I?" He asked, clarifying you were both on the same page. He rubbed his face and groaned into his hands, thinking about how you would react to him making an impulsive move.
"You stole my first kiss." You murmured, making William's head snap up, still covering his mouth with his hands and looking at your expression for any signs of joking, but when he saw none he groaned louder and ran his hands over his face again, one going into his hair and staying there.
"Shit, I am so, so sorry." Afton felt his heart pounding in his chest as he realised what he'd done, he'd taken your first kiss. You'd just looked so right sat on his workbench and bringing him lunches that were clearly made with love, and he'd acted impulsively as he thought that the time might never be as perfect as the peace the two of you had carved out in the workshop.
"Why are you sorry?" Your voice broke him out of his thought spiral, looking back up at you and adjusting his glasses, seeing you smiling at him in the way that made his chest tight and his stomach flutter nervously, so vulnerable and trusting.
"You're not mad?" Swallowing softly as you shook your head in reply, he took a careful step towards you again. His hand going back to where it had been whilst the other hovered over you shoulder, breathing deeply and raggedly as you saw the darkness that you had seen once before back in his eyes. Hungry, untamed as he met yours. "Then... Can I kiss you again?"
Instead of answering him, you placed your hand against his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips and how he leaned his head into your hand slightly, shuffling forwards and your knees sitting either side of his hips as you leant up slightly. William smiled and placed his large hand on your cheek and kissed you back, tender and soft despite the fact his beard scratched slightly at your skin. Taking your breath away again as suddenly all those thoughts you had had where you thought he was handsome, or a million and one times you had stared at him and wondered how his hands felt against you felt justified.
Pulling back after a moment, William placed his forehead against yours, catching his breath and allowing you to as well. You suddenly broke out into a grin and giggled, remembering what the kid had said to you earlier, William raising an eyebrow in question.
"A kid called me 'Miss Spring-Bonnie' earlier, apparently they were psychic." William snorted a laugh out as well, pulling his forehead away and leaving his hand on your face, thumb stroking over your cheek and feeling how soft you were beneath him.
"Oh, you're all ready to be 'Miss Spring-Bonnie' are you, little bunny?" He teased, making your cheeks flush hot at the comment and he chuckled again, leaning in and taking another quick peck from your lips. "How about we seal that with a kiss before you go back to work?"
And you happily obliged as you pressed your lips to yours once again.
#springtrap#springtrap x reader#steve raglan#steve raglan x reader#william afton x reader#william afton#william afton x you#william afton smut#fnaf movie#fnaf x reader
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