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carolmunson · 1 year

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caught like a fool without a line. (older!modern!eddie)

part five of who knows how many. orange colored sky setlist.

summary: we've been seeing eddie for a month and the fear starts to settle in. with eddie's past and present making things difficult and your own insecurities brewing, things come to a bit of a head one night when you're out at a bar. featuring older!robin and our favorite guy older!steve from @loveshotzz series 'all i really want is you'.

tw: age gappy (reader and eddie are 12 years apart, but reader is late late 20s/early 30s and eddie and late late 30s/early 40s throughout this story so it's not like so bad). drunk!reader, alcohol consumption, discussions of eddie's promiscuous past (i know some people don't like when eddie is a slut), implied that reader wears eddie's clothes to bed but not that reader is small. gifs by: @keerysbrandnewbg and @eddiemunsonsource

songspiration: open | rhye and feelings | lauv

You swirled the big ice cube in the tumbler with an unenthusiastic flair, making the orangey red liquid in the glass nearly spill. “And I don’t get it, we had a really nice first date and then made out again the next week and talked all the time and now he’s barely texting me back,” you complain, the tart grapefruit of your friend’s new take on an Aperol Spritz floods your mouth at your next sip.

“Maybe he’s just busy,” your friend Charlie suggests from behind the bar, “He’s older, you said, right? He might just not be on his phone as much. Do you like the drink? Is it too bitter?”

“It’s bitter but not in a bad way, in a good citrussy way,” you nod, “And yeah he might not be on his phone as much but then why just sort of suddenly drop off and barely respond? Like, look at this.” You take out your phone, laying it on the bar and scrolling through a plethora of blue texts with some sprinkles of gray in between, “I look so pathetic.” “I think you just really like him,” she shrugs, smirking, “And I think that’s good, you haven’t been this excited about someone for a little bit.” “Yeah, but every time I’m excited about someone it bites me in the ass,” you lean on the palm of your hand, flipping your phone over, “Plus like, I’m not trying to be with anyone like that right now.”

Your friend gives you a look, “Okay, sure.”

“What do you mean ‘okay, sure’?” you scoff.

“You’re not trying to be with anyone like your ex,” Charlie corrects, her dark red lips pulling into a smirk, “You go on and on about how you just want someone to take care of things for you. Maybe he’s that kind of dude.”

“He has someone come every Sunday to clean his house for him,” you sip the drink again, “I don’t think he can take care of anything for me, considering I can clean my own house.” The bar slowly starts to fill up with the after work crowd, leaving Charlie to run back and forth between you and pouring beers for incoming patrons.

“He can afford to have someone come and clean his house,” she says with a smirk, holding down the tap while she fills a glass with Lagunitas, "That's kind of hot." You flip your phone back over and sigh, no new messages.

If anything is true in the music and art world Eddie is involved in it's that Eddie Munson is a professional loverboy. Never with someone for too long, never long enough for them to want something more than fun -- never long enough for 'Are you my boyfriend?' never long enough for 'What are we?' It got easier the older he got, the less women and men cared about labels. You were right to make that judgement about his key carabiner hanging on the front of his keys. Eddie Munson is a slut, and everyone knows it but you.

He had two actual girlfriends in his early twenties, but nothing quite like his friendship with Steve. 'Platonic life partner, sometimes,' they'd list it as -- never too afraid to get affectionate. Hugs, kisses on the forehead, Eddie held him so many nights when Emma died he felt like they left an indent in the center of the bed. He touched and loved the people who loved him back, but to anyone else – he never wanted to get too close. He always gave out just enough of him – enough for people to keep wanting more, a satisfaction he basked in now since he was such a loner in high school with no notches to his belt.

But now he’s blabbering on to Robin over a huge plate of nachos about how you texted him all day. You texted him all day and he had his phone charging in the kitchen while he was upstairs in his office so he didn’t know and now it’s very clear that you’re upset.

"Okay? How is this different from the girl you were seeing over Christmas?" Robin laughs over a mouthful of loaded nachos, a frosty pink Frosé next to her to beat the heat. Her eyes crinkle closed, a smattering of freckles stretching on the apples of her cheeks when she smiles. The heat of a sunburn runs soft pink over her nose, outside of the gray in her sand blonde hair that she'll never dye, she looks almost the same as she did in high school. “So you didn’t text her back,” she shrugs, “You leave her alone, she fades off into the distance – just like the girl before that, and the guy before that, and the girl before that. Why're you talking about it like it's the end of the world?” "I care," he groans, turning his phone to show Robin your messages. You'd sent them every few hours, but most of the messages from the morning and afternoon were from when he was working -- phone nestled on the charger down in the kitchen while he clacked away on code upstairs. By the time he saw them he was embarrassed, and you were probably already at your friend's bar. Eddie tries to explain the whole situation while Robin scrolls through with a careful and soft expression, a tiny smile forming on her face.

“I already fucked it up,” Eddie sighs, pulling his hair up into a ponytail with volume hair stylists would envy. He runs his hand over his jaw, following the edge of it to land behind his neck where he squeeze gently on the muscle.

Robin shrugs again, passing his phone back to him, “Par for the course, kid.”

His eyes narrow, “I’m older than you.”

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, “You always fuck it up, Ed. That's your thing. You walk into a room and someone leaves crying. You've never done the whole sappy love thing with someone, why do you think you're changing your tune now?”

“I know but – fuck Robin, I didn’t even sleep with her yet,” he says a little louder than he intends. His tattooed hand wraps around the Pilsner glass in front of him, dripping in condensation, bringing it to his lips.

“That’s a new development,” she raises her brows, crossing her legs, "You never wait this long."

“I just…I don’t…I shit – I don’t know.”

“What did Steve say?” Robin asks, teeth biting down on the straw to her drink, “He always has good girl advice.”

“I haven’t even told Steve.”

“At all?!” she nearly spits out the frose all over the nachos.

“Rob we just buried Em,” he explains softly, “Like, she’s not even fuckin’ cold yet. I can’t just come out of the woodwork five months later like ‘Hey man, think I actually met a girl I’d consider a future with. We’ve been seeing each other for a month’. And like – what if I’m just psyching myself out? What if this is just an early midlife crisis?”

Robin takes a slow sip, nodding while he speaks before taking a pause. “Ed, I think you’ll feel better if you tell Steve,” she offers, “I think he’d get your head straight about it. But in the meantime, you should text her back.”

“What do I even say?” he huffs, shoving a loaded nacho into his mouth. “Try honesty with a woman for once in your entire life, Rockstar boy,” Robin plasters on a customer service smile that makes him let out a frustrated ‘tsss’, “It won’t kill you.” "Here, I'll text Nance and ask her -- she's our next best bet," Robin takes out her phone and types with the fervor of a teenager with a sugar high. Eddie sips his beer, looking at the screen of his phone while the cursor to type blinks back at him.

You stumble out of the bar, too crowded now to have fun with your friend. Over tired and over served you make your way down the street and around the corner, stopping to lean against the brick wall of a different bar when you feel your phone buzz in your hand. You take a minute, taking in your surroundings. People are so loud down here, and everyone is so pretty. Street lights are there and gone and there and gone as cars whiz passed on Delancey, the bustle of the Friday night life in the LES is a buzz with excitement. You're already a little down for the count. Your phone feels like a paper weight in your hand, sighing with satisfaction at the notificaiton on the screen. But your chest still aches with annoyance, how many times were you gonna get drunk at a bar with a swollen heart over some dumb boy? Man? Guy?

You don't want him to come save you, you know how to get home. You can see the green bulbs of the train entrance and the glow of the McDonalds 'M' on the corner in the distance. Down the stairs, one train into Brooklyn, cross platform transfer -- you've done it drunker than this countless times before. You text Charlie with an air of victory before putting your phone back in your smart black faux leather bag slung over your shoulder. The warm summer air flows over your legs, catching the hem of your a-line skirt -- the light material flowing in the breeze. Time isn't working quite right for you but it feels like it's been five minutes and he hasn't shown up, so you make your way to the edge of the corner to cross.

"Whoa there, Peach," you hear Eddie's gruff voice from the side of you, the pull on your arm the same as when he steadied you at Trader Joe's a month ago, "Careful now."

You pull out of his hold, glassy eyes focused on the black and white stripes on the street ahead of you, "I know what I'm doin'."

“Where are you goin’, huh?” he asks softly. Eddie steps in front of you, guiding you to the light post to get out of the way of other pedestrians.

“Home,” you slur, “M’goin home. Trainssright there.”

“I don’t think you’re good to take the train,” his voice is gentle, hand coming out to hold you at the waist, “I can get you a car.”

“I’m fine.” It's the only sentence that comes out lucid, his jaw ticks.

"You don't look fine," he looks down into your glassy eyes, a look he's seen before. The way his mama would drown herself in whiskey and stumble into the kitchen so the bruises would't hurt so bad. The way an old fling would slur to him about how she can't live without him. The way you look so sad and it's his fault.

"I'm. Fine," you reiteratie. The light changes, the bright white of the walk sign flashes across the street. You go to pass him but his hands place themselves on your shoulders. "You really wanna get boiled alive on the train?" he asks with a smile, "You don't wanna take a car?" You sigh, why does he have to be so handsome? The gin from your last two drinks travels from your head to your thighs, pulling them together at the sight of his smile. He has that ratty vest on, a CBGC t-shirt sticking to him under it, the sleeves completely torn off. He smells like cedar and citrus again, a hint of a left over cigarette. His grays catch the light of the over head lamp, bouncing like tinsel in his pony tail sitting on the crown of his head. "Can we go to your house?" you ask, voice raised a higher octave than normal. His face blanches, "Aw honey, that's not a good idea. I don't want you to think that I --" "Please?"

"Thanks, have a good night," Eddie waves off the delivery man with a smile as he rides away on his bike. With plastic in hand he makes his way back up the stairs where you've set up shop on one of the stools in his kitchen, head down on the island counter.

"Food's here," he says quietly. Dealing with drunk you was very much like dealing with drunk Robin in the early 2010s, overgrown toddler in a bad mood. You let out a half hearted 'Yay', head coming up, eyes half closed in the kind of sleepiness a few mixed drinks and some beers can send you into. He goes into the fridge and pulls out two bottles of Poland Spring and a beer for himself. The waters get placed in front of you while he tends to getting the food plated up.

You ignore the water -- Blue Moon bottle staring right at you, and to be honest -- a cold cirtussy beer sounds sooo good right now. You reach forward, the glass ice cold against your palm now that the liquor has fully settled, heating up your skin. The sound of glass on the counter cobbles through the kitchen when you slide it closer to you, alerting Eddie to the noise.

“Excuse me,” he says sharply, snatching the bottle out of your hand, “Can you behave?”

You pout when his eyes narrow at you, heart thumping guiltily in your chest, shame brewing in your skin. You nod back at him with sad eyes, a twinge plucking in your heart strings.

“Don’t give me that face,” he warns, “Don't act up."

“I don’t like when you’re mean,” you mumble softly, running your fingers in shapes over the butcher's block counter top. He sighs, plating your sandwich and pulling your fries from the bag. He kisses your temple while he slides the plate in front of you. "I'm sorry, honey," he says quietly, but gin always puts you in the mood to argue. "You don't have to talk to me like, like -- you don't have to talk to me -hic!- like I'm a kid," you hurtle out, surprised at your own gumption, "I'm not."

"I know," he says, putting the bags into his recycling bin under the sink, "I'm not talking to you in any kind of way Peach I -- " "You don't even like me," you state. His head cocks to the side, leaning on his hands while they hold on to the edge of the island. "Who said that?" "I was -hic!- I was talking to someone at the bar about --" you start, lump building in your throat, "About you and um -- they said, they said it sounds like --" Your eyes water, "Like I'm just for fun." "Oh," he says, looking down at his hands. The weight of this conversation falling into his stomach from his chest like a deep pit.

"Like I'm just fun for you to play with -- but like, you don't even wanna have -- you don'even wanna h-have-have seggzwithme so like -- you don't even like me." More and more if your insecurities flow out of you like a broken faucet, tears starting to slip down your cheeks.

"And like you probably don't even think I'm pretty."

"Oh, baby, no," he coos, brows tilted in sympathy while you drunkenly let all your sober fears out, "I think you're so pretty."

"So pretty," you repeat, wiping your face with your hands, "But that's it."

Eddie takes a deep breath, coming over to you and pressing his warm soft lips to your cheek, "Let's talk about this in the morning, sweetheart. I'm gonna get upstairs ready for you."

"I should just go home," you sniffle, embarrassment starting to flow through you with your bloodstream, burning all your pores, "I'm sorry." "No, no, don't go home," he assures, nose nuzzling against your cheek, "Stay. Just stay."

He makes sure you eat, watching you come back to yourself the fuller and more hydrated you get. You're easy to lead upstairs, pliant and tired now, needy almost -- not that you'd ever admit to it. You tease him about his 'old man pills' when he takes out his perscription high dose Motrin he got for some old back pain. Great for when you might get a killer hangover these days. You grimace at the Pedialyte mixture he has you drink before you get tucked into his bed -- out before you can even feel him grab the pillows and a throw from the other side of you. He settles in downstairs on the sectional, sighing while he thinks about the way your face scrunches when you're about to cry. He flicks through his Hulu options on the big screen in front of him but nothing really seems to catch his attention. Mind wandering to you asleep upstairs but knowing better than to crawl into bed next to you when you're not yourself enough to say it's okay. The familiar buzz of his phone goes off on the coffee table, when he picks it up his face is on the front screen while someone calls in on FaceTime. "You're callin' late, man," Eddie grins lazily, socked feet sticking out to rest on the worn walnut table in front of him, "You okay?" "Yeah me and Bandit just got in from camping. Got some pics of him to send you, he's such a scamp." "You have fun?" he asks, rubbing his eyes. Eddie's voice is quiet while he speaks making Steve's head cock to the side. The lights changes on his face while he walks from the living room to his bedroom. "Yeah we had a lot of fun," Steve starts, "Why're you whispering?" "What do you mean?" Eddie asks, getting up off the couch to pad back into the kitchen. "You're talkin' all quiet," Steve smirks, "You got a girl over or something?" Ed puts his phone down and huffs while he grabs a bag of chips from the cabinet. Steve giggle, leaning his head in closer to the screen. "You do, don't you?" he guffaws, "Am I interrupting?" "She's sleeping," Eddie says softly, picking up the phone again and leaning against the counter. "Aw, so you ended up texting her back? Good."

"What the fuck? Who told you that?" Eddie's brows furrow, spitting through a mouthful of chips. "Robin, obviously." The light changes on him again while he makes his way to his own kitchen. Bandit's little pants and huffs echoing into the phone, "You think Nancy came up with the 'Hey pretty girl,' opening? She's never been a flirt."

"Well it worked so, congrats."

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" Steve pulls his own bag of chips out. They crunch together. "It just didn't seem right," he shrugs, "Y'know with Emma it's hard to be like, 'Hey I think I might actually see a future with this girl I've only been seeing for a few weeks.' Like, you just lost the love of your life."

"I'm not gonna be sad to hear that you're into someone, Ed," Steve smiles softly, voice calm, "Tell me about her."

So he does, he tells Steve about how he kept running into you that day at Trader Joe's and how he felt so stupid for not waiting at the doors for you but he was too scared. You were so cute in your bike shorts and sneakers, so careful in how you chose the fruit you were gonna get. When he saw you on the platform he knew it was like he was getting a second chance -- "Maybe Em thought you should stop being such a whore and sent her over," Steve laughs. Ed rolls his eyes but can't hold back his chuckle, watching as Steve rests his chin on the heel of his hand while he listens. Eddie talks about the picnic date, how he immediately felt comfortable telling you about his mom. The rain, the kiss in his apartment -- how he could've fucked you but didn't. How all your little dates had gone since.

"Oh so you like her," Steve nods.

"I'm scared," Eddie says quietly. "Scared?"

"What if it's just a fluke and I hurt her? Or I get hurt?" Eddie asks, "And like -- please don't take this the wrong way but like -- what if I put in all this effort and then lose her?"

"Like how I lost Em?"

Eddie nods slowly, not wanting to say the quiet part out loud. He talks about what you said when you got back to his place, how you think he doesn't really like you, how he doesn't think you're pretty. You're just for fun. "But this doesn't feel like 'just for fun', does it?" Steve challenges gently, "Cause if she was just for fun you would've texted me about if she could deep throat or not."

Eddie chuckles darkly, pink rising on his cheeks -- Steve chuckles too. Still gross boys who are gross.

"You should tell her how you feel," he encourages, "What's the worst that can happen?" "Everything."

"Okay," Steve shrugs, "I lost everything. And what happened?"

"We all came to pick you up." "Exactly. We'll be here to pick you up, too. Don't like..." Steve sighs, "Don't just immediately throw something away just because you're not used to it. The more you stand there and think about what you want, the less she's gonna think you want it."

"I know..." "So let her know you want it."

They talk for an hour, both cozied up on their respective couches -- Bandit immediately getting in the frame and yelping at Eddie's face on the screen. The seize in Eddie's chest loosens because maybe this could be okay. Now he just has to make sure you know it.

You wake up the next morning, groggy and dry -- but thankfully not nearly as hungover as you were expecting. Your joints hurt, your stomach's a little jumbled, but no headache and that's what matters the most. You shift in his crisp sheets, turning around to see that the bed is empty next to you -- pillows and throw blanket gone with him. You slept alone. You look at your phone on the bedside table next to a full bottle of water. You chug it while you check your notifications -- 6:11 AM. If anything was true, you always woke up too early when you drank too much the night before. The water sits heavy in your belly, pressing your bladder which was already screaming for you to go to the bathroom. With a sigh you stand up, and when you do, the embarrassment of the night before settles in. Your emotional hangover.

You pad to the bathroom and pee, seeing your face in the mirror like you did the night you got rained out. Your makeup is smeared, face a little bloated -- you do your best to wash it off. The cool water feels good against your skin, still hot from the liquor and dehydration. You pat your face dry and leave the bathroom, lingering at the top of the stairs where he's laying on the couch, already awake. "G'morning," you rasp out. He perks up, head tilting up to look at you from his place in the living room. "Morning, peach," he smiles, "You feelin' okay?"

You nod, ungracefully stomping down the metal steps of the spiral staircase while you get your footing, "Your old man pills must be magic or something."

Eddie pulls back the blanket, scooching back against the cushions to make room for you to lay down next to him, "C'mere, baby."

C'mere, baby runs down your spine, making your throat catch. You make your way towards the couch, crawling in next to him. The living room is quiet, with just some early morning sun pooling into the windows -- like you two are the only people awake on the street this morning. He covers you up, wasting no time wrapping himself around you and pulling you into him, "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah," you nod into his chest, the scent of his skin mixing with the faint smell of cirtus and cedar, "Did you?" "Normally I'm fine on the couch," he says, voice grizzly and sleepy, "But I didn't sleep a wink last night." "Oh, I'm sorry. I could've slept on the couch or I --" "No, it's not that," he shakes his head, catching your gaze, "Probably would've slept better if you were next to me." Your cheeks burn, a smile splittling across your face, "Well I'm here now."

"You are," he nods, leaning up to run his thumb over the apple of your cheek where a stray piece of glitter sits. Remnants of your makeup that you couldn't wash away.

"I'm um...sorry for how I acted last night," you confess, "That's not like -- that's not how I am."

"Don't be sorry," he assures quietly, "I understand." You're both quiet for a moment, the hum of the central air fuzzing the silence between you. "You're not just for fun, peach," he says, a seriousness to his normally playful voice, "I'm sorry I made you feel like that." "I um -- I'm sorry I kind of went a little insane," you shrug, feeling small, "I didn't mean to text all those times and then come here and cry and like --" "Stop apologizing," he says, thumb grazing your lower lip to stop you, "You were just feeling a way, that's okay. I get it." He takes his thumb away, leaning down to give you a kiss that sends you reeling. Warm and soft, delicate. His hands lead his arms around you again, smiling when you reach up to cup his cheek. "I like you," Eddie smirks against your mouth. "I like you, too," you smile when he breaks away. "The deli's open on the corner if you want me to run over and get a bacon, egg, and cheese," he offers quietly. "Why do I feel like you were gonna do that anyway?" you ask in the same tone. "I was," he grins again, "I just wanted to impress you by asking." He sits up, clamboring over you to get some coffee started so it'll be done by the time he gets back. You wait patiently for him, rolling your eyes while he shoves his socked feet in his slides, leaving the house in his pajamas of a t-shirt and black joggers. You prepare the coffees, feeling domestic like you live here -- getting used to where things are already.

He comes back twenty minutes later, sighing when the air conditioning hits him as the door opens, "It's already like, 80 degrees."

"Gross," you reply, face scrunching in the way that he likes, "Coffee is ready." "Oh, thank you." His eyes glitter at the gesture, seeing that you used the same mugs from when he had you over the first time. Those are his favorites, but you'll learn that eventually. The sandwhiches are tossed on the butcher block counter where you cried last night, but your embarrassment melts away when you feel him wrap himself around you again -- like he can't get enough. "I'm playing a show on Thursday at House of Yes," he says, "They're doing a metal theme'd night." "Yeah?" you ask, hands reaching for the plastic baggy and taking out both of your sadwhiches wrapped in foil. His arms still tight around your middle while you maneuver around your kitchen. "You should come," he asks, kissing the top of your head, "I'll get you a ticket."

"I don't know if that's really my scene," you shrug, twisting in his hold to face him, "I'm not like -- I'm not cool and underground like that." "So?" he quirks his brow, "You can be cool and underground for one night to hang out with your hottie rockstar boy-toy."

"That's so gross that you described yourself that way," you laugh, pushing out of his hug and opening your sandwhich, "Like, so cringey, babe." "Babe," he repeats back to you, "I like that. You can call me 'babe' whenever you want." "Duly noted," you agree, teeth sinking into the bread of the roll and breaking into the warm and gooey center. The jumble in your stomach starting to fade away while the grease of the egg soothes it. Eddie takes his sandwhich and coffee to the living room, taking his phone off the coffee table to open up his text conversation with Steve:

she called me babe.

i literally can't even breathe right now.

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #older!eddie munson #older!eddie #older!steve harrington #stranger things au #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic

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fanfic-writer-and-rambler · 11 days

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And now... the (one of them at least) canon explanations for the first Robin suit.

Damian Wayne walks into his father's office holding a photo.

Damian: Father?

Bruce, reading: Yes?

Damian: I found this photo of Dick when he was Robin and, one question I've been meaning to ask, why the no pants? Why would you subject him to that? Ignoring the weather issues especially since we live in New York how is no pants and a speedo benefiting him, Father?

Bruce, groaning for a good couple of seconds. He slams his head on his desk.

Bruce: Look I've been sitting on this information for a very, very long freaking time because Dick told me to never tell anyone this. I am tired of being seen as the strange one, I was not the one who came up with that hero suit, he was. All right, Dick Grayson was the one behind the colors, the design, all of it!

Damian: Really?

Tim, peeking his head out from the door since he was eavesdropping: Seriously?

Jason on the other side of the door: You lying!

Bruce, sits up frustrated: I begged him to wear pants, he wouldn't cave! Alfred begged him too, but... dang it he does a good job with making us agree with his outfit choices. He said it was based off of his circus outfit and I tried to say no, but just lost his parents and he was so precious, I folded. I'm not the weirdo though, you want to call someone weird, talk to him! Be... nice about it though.

Damian: I admire your honesty father I will go make fun of Dick accordingly.

Bruce, vindicated: Thank you!

Bruce returns to work.

Damian, Jason and Tim find Dick Grayson at the kitchen table eating a sandwich. Damian places the photo on the table.

Damian: Explain, why no pants?

Dick, sheepishly: Hm ... There is a good reason why I decided on that design.

Damian: I'm waiting.

Jason: Yeah I am as well because I had to wear that fucking suit too.

Tim: Y- you told me Bruce was the one who came up with that idea... you lied to me!

Dick: Okay I may have realized later in life that the whole Speedo thing was a mistake for someone over 8 to wear.

Damian: It's weird no matter the age.

Dick: Point is, I had a great reason to design it like that at the time.. it's very aerodynamic and it helps me fight!

Jason: It didn't help me fight, me knowing how to fight helped me fight. That just made me look stupid! You know how many criminals laughed at me wearing that at 13!

Jason slaps the man on the head.

Dick: It's not my fault, Bruce wanted to-

Jason: You know he can't say no to you when you give him puppy dog eyes.

Jason hits him on the head again.

Dick: Ow.

Tim, betrayed: Why did you lie to me? I feel so hurt!

Jason: Would you tone it down fanboy! I had to wear the speedo!

Tim: Wait is that why you liked my costume?

Dick: Yes, kinda!

Tim: Oh... Okay I forgive you.

Damian, shaking his head: You are so weak with him.

Stephanie, rolling in Barbara: Ooh drama, I'm here for it.

Barbara: They found out why you had that outfit, Dick?

Jason: You knew and you never told me?!

Barbara: Sorry he swore me to secrecy before I got to tell you.

Jason bonks him on the head again.

Dick: Stop assaulting me!

Stephanie: Tell him what?

Damian: Father-

Dick grabs Damian by the arm and covers his mouth.

Dick: Nothing!

Jason: Oh you fucking will not! Bruce was not the one who came up with that ridiculous ugly costume for Robin, it was Dick who came up with the entire Speedo and no pants at all! And he feels shame for it!

Stephanie rolls Barbara away, the wheelchair woman catching herself at the table.

Stephanie, stifling laughter: Whaaat? Wait, is this true, Mr. Discowling?

Dick Grayson blushes in shame.

Stephanie: Yes, I can mock you for something! You have shame!

Alfred: What's going on? I heard screaming.

Stephanie: The man who still brags about the discowling being a good design has shame! Victory!

Stephanie runs out the kitchen, laughing.

Alfred: Oh, she found out about the original Robin costume.

Dick lays his head down on the table, blushing. Barbara rolls to him and pats him on the head.

Barbara: There, there. At least you're Nightwing.

Dick: I was 8 man, it looked cute and cool!

Barbara: As an 8 year old it's adorable, not 16.

Dick grumbled, keeping his head on the table.

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holdinbacksecrets · 7 months

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uninhibited (and drunk) voicemails from seventeen

forever sending gratitude and love to j @un-love for helping assign these

seungcheol: “i watched you tonight with another man. he held your hand and kissed your forehead. he drank your tea first to check the temperature. he made you laugh. for real. i know because you covered your mouth, still feeling insecure about how far it opens when the reaction can’t be avoided—when the something said was so funny it surprised you. you’re wearing red. your arms were exposed for a while, and i felt my eyes prick with tears at the sight of more tattoos on your skin. ones i didn’t know about. maybe ones you mentioned when they were still just possibilities in your head. not once did i think i wouldn’t see them actualized. not once did i imagine another man’s fingers brushing the ink through the motion of draping his jacket around your shoulders.”

jeonghan: “i’m at home and alone, and it’s wrong to call you. it’s so unfair to call you. i didn’t know how to tell you that the wanting is scary. that the way we love each other is impossible—not for a second do i believe it’s possible to have again, and i’m fucking afraid, probably because i know how much you’ve grown. the thought of letting you down leaves a sour taste, and i’m trying not to be so fucking afraid.”

joshua: “i’m sobering up now, sitting on my mom’s back porch. earlier, i was trying to describe the color of your hair. the best i could come up with was blue frosting like the cupcakes she made for my 10th birthday party. isn’t that outrageous? embarrassing? in my head was a poem, but the alcohol released the silliest set of words i could’ve possibly used to describe a part of you.”

jun: “everything is weird. everyone is strange to me today except for you. i’m drunk. i lost my shoes at some point in the night i think. i can’t recognize anyone around me. their voices don’t sound familiar. i wish you were here. i wish you’d tell me this is miserable for you too; it’s not worth it anymore. would you tell me the truth if i asked? sorry. what a stupid question. i don’t know anyone more honest.”

soonyoung: “i should’ve watched you all day more often. i dream about that. i wanted to, but something always had my attention or interrupted its focus on you. i’m laying here with my eyes closed, imagining all the moments i did watch and wondering if every single one pieced together could consume an entire day.”

wonwoo: “is it ok that i still have your spare key? i’d like to believe it’s something you’d ask to get back, but i wonder if that call isn’t worth making. if the idea of seeing me makes you anxious. but you trust me. out of everyone to still have access to your home, it’s ok that it’s me. i feel sad thinking about it.”

jihoon: “you baked cookies. i froze half of them. there’s one left, and i’m debating whether or not to eat it today. it’s freezing outside, and any view through my window is ruined by the snow. it feels like the perfect night for a cookie with what’s left of my second americano like i can risk losing sleep, but what will be left from you if i give in? everything else feels lifeless—it’s been so long since you’ve touch the clothes and read the books.”

seokmin: “i’m going to a wedding tomorrow. your old neighbor is getting married, and i thought about so many things when he sent me the invitation. i thought he was in love with you for the longest time. remember that? it took me months to admit. then he told me he’s just protective, and i realized there are so many people who see us and care without us ever knowing. so i wondered about a what if between us… what if our paths crossing was shallow and they never intertwined? what if you were just a woman in the grocery store who i’d see once in a while if the timing was right? how long would i think about you before forgetting your face, before forgetting i ever saw you? unless i never would and end up talking about you in my old age to adult children who only know i loved their mother.”

mingyu: “is it ok to call you in the middle of the night? you told me i could. years have passed since that conversation. *laughs* is it strange to think about us back then? how we started on a park bench, basically dated for two years on a park bench. i still think about how your approach to reach me gave away your feelings. you started poised, avoiding eye contact. then it became goofy looks and confident strides before calling my name and skipping to singing the song stuck in your head while you ran to me. i can’t help but wonder what would it look like now?”

minghao: “if you listen to this voicemail, can you tell me what you want? whatever comes to mind after hearing the question. from something small to something weird and the the thing you believe is better left unsaid as if i’d judge the answer, but i won’t. i have no reason to judge you. all i have is curiosity and love and hope for your every day, every want, every touch, every song you sing, every picture you hang, and every night spent barefoot on the balcony- i want to marry you.”

seungkwan: “there’s something on my mind. i’ve wanted to tell you all day. i thought about it at breakfast and started texting you before my manager called and interrupted. so here it is: i used to not understand how tired you’d be with me around. i thought i was boring you for the longest time until i visited my sisters. they exchanged a knowing smile before telling me you’re completely comfortable, that you feel safe enough to slip into the kind of vulnerability that only sleepiness and sleep allow, with your guard lowered, and your heart open. i appreciate how much of you i’ve seen, how deeply i know you—knew you… know you? hmm…”

hansol: “are you traveling? i hope you’re traveling. i know it’s something you promised to do at the start of your 26th year. where did you go? … are you taking lots of pictures? … how does the moon look? that’s your souvenir: the moon in the sky a thousand miles away from home. when you told me the moon thing, i realized i knew nothing about you, and i wanted to know everything.”

chan: “you were in the audience tonight? i didn’t… i wasn’t… thank you for coming. i mailed a ticket, but it was returned to sender. *clears throat* you’re the only person i couldn��t shake wanting to be there. do you know what i mean? people from our pasts we wish could still be present, especially for things they witnessed in early stages. i could shake off all the other absences… old friends, a mentor, but you… *sigh* no way.”

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen blurbs #seventeen drabbles #seventeen angst #seventeen fic #seungcheol scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #joshua scenarios #jun scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #jihoon scenarios #seokmin scenarios #mingyu scenarios #minghao scenarios #seungkwan scenarios #hansol scenarios #chan scenarios

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Apothecary - A Joel Miller Story

joel miller x witchy!reader

Series masterlist

joel becomes curious about the woman running the medicine shop in Jackson, and the strange rumors swirling around her.

warnings | 18+ angst, fluff, spooky ooky stuff

a/n | this was born out of me getting high and rewatching practical magic. i intend to make this a lil universe in and of itself bc i love the idea :)

.............................

Joel stops outside the storefront down the main drag of Jackson. Old license plates have been cut up to create a hodge-podged sign hanging over the door. Apothecary. When he enters, wind chimes tinkling above the door, he thinks that it looks more like a greenhouse than a medicine shop, potted plants clearly tended to with care all over the place.

“Hello?” Though the sign says the store is open, he doesn’t see anyone around, sidling up to the checkout counter and eyeing the collection of rocks lined up next to the old, rusted-out cash register. He doesn’t have long to muse to himself about how strange the shop is when something brushes quick against his legs all of a sudden, making him let out a hard curse as he whips around in time to see a sleek black cat padding toward the back of the store.

“Sorry about her, Stevie thinks she owns the place.” He’s startled again by a voice, nearly jumping out of his boots when he turns around to find a woman has appeared behind the counter. She’s certainly a sight, old bracelets trailing up both her wrists, and dangling earrings that look to be made out of scraps of stained glass. She’s pretty, if not a little wild looking. He has to clear his throat before speaking.

“Um, I’m sorry. The sign said you’re open.” She smiles, tilting her head slightly as she looks at him.

“Oh, we are! I was just working in the back. What can I help you with?”

“Maria sent me? She said you’d be able to help– my kid’s got a pretty bad case of poison ivy and, um, yeah. I’m Joel– by the way.” Her smile broadens, warm and bright as she steps out from behind the counter, Joel stuttering into motion as she nods for him to follow her.

“I know who you are, Joel. Everyone can’t stop talking about the Jackson newcomers– welcome– by the way.” He’s a little distracted from listening to her words by the backroom she leads him into, lined with shelves stacked with glass jars full of all sorts of dried plants and thick books. There’s a wide gas range in the back of the room, large bubbling pots on most of the hobs. She glances at him over her shoulder as she flits by to stir the simmering pots.

“This used to be a bakery, way before, if you can believe it. I thought Maria was crazy when she offered me the space. But we’ve made it work.” His brow furrows.

“We?” Just then, that damn cat brushes past his legs again, making him stumble over his feet. The cat leaps up onto one of the shelves, and she chuckles as she strokes its head, smiling at Joel before turning back to the stove.

Seemingly satisfied with the state of whatever she’s got brewing, she claps her hands together before turning back around to Joel.

“Now then, poison ivy is no fun, huh? Probably get someone in here every couple of days asking for my help with it in the summer. Lucky for you, I’ve got just the stuff to calm it down.” When she passes by him, he gets a deep whiff of something heady, like that incense stuff Sarah liked to burn. Her hands flicker over glass jars, muttering to herself as she grabs a few items. He can’t help the way his eyes graze down her bare legs in her cut-off overalls, smiling when he sees she’s wearing two different colored sneakers. Arms full, she lays out her haul on what looks like once was a butcher's block, her eyes darting up to his as she coaxes him further into the room with a crook of her finger.

“This is witch hazel– it’ll be your kid’s first line of defense to help some of the redness and swelling calm down.” She passes him a small glass bottle full of murky liquid before holding up a little tin.

“Salve made with beeswax from the hives in town and calendula– she can slather this on to help with the itching.” She’s speaking so fast he doesn’t have time to question how she knows that his kid is a she, already holding up something else, a cloth sachet.

“Oatmeal, Sarah can run a bath and soak with this in it– should soothe the itching and calm down the rash in general. I’ll give you a couple of those, you can use them a few times, but fresh is always better.” He didn’t hear the last bit, a ringing starting in his ears at the mention of that name.

“You said Sarah– w-where’d you hear that name?” Her face falls.

“Oh, I, um–” He swallows hard, cutting her off.

“I had a daughter named Sarah– she— passed— when everything– well, when everything fell apart. How did you– how did you know that name?” She sighs, offering him a nervous smile.

“It was just a slip, a lucky guess– or unlucky, I suppose. I’m really sorry, Joel. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, no. It’s, um, it’s fine. Just caught me by surprise is all. Ellie– that’s the name of my kid that’s probably itching herself into a frenzy right now.” Her smile widens just slightly at that, her shoulders coming unwound. He reckons that if it had been anyone else saying Sarah’s name, he would’ve knocked their lights out. But all he feels hearing her say it is an almost soothing sadness.

“Well, in that case, I hope Ellie starts feeling better soon. Oh! I have one more thing for you!” Before he can protest, his hands already full of the little bits she gave him, she slips over to one of the shelves to grab another small tin before coming back over to him.

“Spearmint and lavender– these mountains are crawling with it– mixed up in a balm. Good for back pain.” His jaw slackens.

“How did you–”

“Lucky guess. Lemme know if it helps.” The way she grins at him almost distracts him, almost, but he huffs, shaking his head.

“I can’t take all this for free– it’s– it’s too much.” She laughs.

“Well who said anything about free? I was hoping you’d trade me some of your time for all that.” He squints at her, not sure what she means, and she chuckles at his questioning look.

“From what I hear, you’re pretty good on patrol. Would you be willing to come with me up into the mountains a time or two? It’s peak harvesting time for all these goodies and I could use an extra pair of eyes.” She waves her arm, motioning toward the shelves stocked with plants.

“That’s all? Doesn’t sound like a–” She cuts him off with another wave of her arm, her bracelets clinking wildly with the motion.

“I know I drive a hard deal, but that’s the best I can do.” By the crinkling around her eyes, he can tell that there will be no arguing with her, even though it’s obviously not a fair trade with the way she’s loaded him up with stuff. He sighs, finally nodding.

“Um, alright then. You just tell me when and I’m your man– I mean– not your– I’m–” while he’s mortified by the way he just put his foot in his mouth, she seems perfectly amused by it, letting out a light laugh that cuts off his floundering.

“Sounds like we have a deal. I’d shake your hand if both of them weren’t full– oh! I haven’t even told you my name, have I?” He shakes his head and she sighs at herself, telling him her name. He rolls it over in his mind a few times as she apologizes for her lack of manners, walking with him back out to the front of the shop.

“If Ellie’s still itching in a week, come back and tell me. I might have something a little stronger that can help.” He nods as she opens the door for him, but before he can step out, the cat is twining between his boots, purring like an engine. He’s never liked cats much.

“Hmm, Stevie likes you. That’s rare, y’know. Very high compliment from little miss.” She grins at him, all warmth and sweetness. Maybe he can make an exception for one cat. She scoops up the cat, nuzzling her chin over the top of the purring feline’s head. He leans against the doorframe, suddenly not too worried about getting home to Ellie who’s probably scratching her skin off right now.

“Is that Stevie, um, as in Stevie Nicks?” That earns him her brightest smile yet. It didn’t take a genius to make that guess, seeing as she’s dressed like she just stepped out of a hippie commune, though Joel supposes that Jackson could fit that description.

“Mmhmm, you a Fleetwood Mac fan?” Truthfully, he isn’t. Not now, and not before. But for some reason, he’s inclined to nod.

“Aren’t you a little young to be listening to them?” She scoffs. He’s honestly not sure how old she is, definitely younger than him, but that’s as far as he can guess.

“They were my mom’s favorite band, and then they were mine– are mine. I managed to snatch an old vinyl of theirs a while ago but I wore it out I played it so much.” She lets out a light laugh, Stevie squirming in her arms. Joel makes a mental note to keep his eyes peeled for records on his patrol shifts, only getting snapped out of his thoughts when she lets out a sigh.

“I should let you get back to Ellie, she’s probably itching up a storm by now. Let me know how that stuff works for her.” He nods, taking one more look at the cat who he swears has been staring at him, before stepping out.

“I will– thank you– really, I appreciate it. And you’ll let me know when you need my help?” She offers him a crooked smile as she nods.

“I sure will. It was nice to meet you, Joel. I’ll see you soon.”

It must have been his eyes playing tricks on him. At least that’s what he tells himself the whole walk home. Cats can’t wink, right?

…

With summer in full swing, the weekly market in town has moved from the community center outside to the main drag of Jackson, makeshift booths heavy with abundant produce, fresh breads, and other wares.

Ellie had dragged Joel out with her, poison ivy all but cleared now, and promptly abandoned him to run off with her new friends. He finds himself leaning up against one of the storefronts, quietly watching the comings and goings, always surprised by just how many folks there are in this town. His interest is piqued, however, when he sees a familiar black cat slinking through the crowd. He cranes his neck, watching as the cat stops between a pair of mismatched sneakers. His eyes trail up, seeing her in those same overalls, dangly earrings glinting in the mid-day sun as she looks over a table of produce.

“You’re gonna catch flies looking like that, brother.” Tommy’s voice startles him, his focus reluctantly pulling away from her to his brother who has sidled up next to him, a smug grin on his face. Joel clears his throat, trying to hide the fact that his jaw really had been hanging on its hinges. Tommy chuckles.

“Who are you making eyes at anyways?”

“I’m not making eyes at anyone. I was looking for Ellie– I lost track of her in this damn crowd.” Tommy shakes his head, his eyes trailing to where Joel had just been looking. By the way his grin widens, he seems to know exactly who Joel had been looking at.

“Maria told me she sent you to the apothecary the other day. That lady’s something else, huh?” Joel glances back over to her, seeing that she’s started wandering along the booths, cat trailing along behind her.

“What’s her– how– what do you know about her?” Tommy sighs, glancing back at Joel.

“Well, the old Jackson rumor mill will tell you one thing. But all she’s been is a service to the community, really. Was the biggest help to Maria when she was pregnant– helped her through the birth and everything.” Joel squints at his brother.

“And what does the “old Jackson rumor mill” have to say about her?” Tommy lets out another sigh, scratching at the scruff along his jaw.

“It’s silly, honestly. Just a story made up by people with small minds.”

“So what is it? Just tell me, Tommy.”

“Some folks around town– they’ve got it in their heads that– well, that she’s a witch.” Joel feels his face go slack at that. Tommy just shakes his head.

“I told you it’s stupid. People just– they think she’s a bit strange, I guess. Though if you ask me, that rumor has more to do with all the wives of Jackson not liking the way their men look at her.” Joel glances away at his brother, finding her in the crowd. But this time, he notices all the people around her, mostly the women, and the nasty way they seem to size her up as she walks by. Joel huffs.

“That’s gotta be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. A couple of ladies get jealous so they start calling her a witch? Seriously?” Tommy shrugs.

“Hey, stranger things have happened. It’s not so hard to believe, not since people started growing mushrooms out of their skulls.” Tommy’s got him there, but Joel still has to shake his head at what his brother has told him.

“I thought you said it’s just a silly rumor.” His brother’s silence tells him more than words ever could, and Joel has to laugh.

“You’re kidding. You actually think that we’ve got a– a witch in town?” Tommy grumbles at that.

“Look, Joel, I’m not gonna lie to you. There’s been some freaky shit with her– healing people, knowing things that she shouldn’t know, hell, even that damn cat of hers is–”

“What do you mean– knowing things she shouldn’t know?” Tommy huffs at Joel’s interruption.

“She calls them lucky guesses. All I’ll say is it sure seems like that woman has a lot of luck.” Joel’s breath catches listening to Tommy’s explanation, his mind immediately going back to that day he met her, how she had known Sarah’s name.

“Listen, the bottom line is, she’s done nothing but good for Jackson with that shop of hers. Whatever she is, she’s a good one. But, brother, I wouldn’t go calling after her.” Joel’s brow furrows, head tilting at his brother.

“I wasn’t– even if I was– why shouldn’t I?” Tommy smirks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because while the women of Jackson call her a witch, the men of Jackson just call her a heartbreaker.”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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peachesofteal · 2 years

Text

First Sight

Chapter 1 of 2. Part five of the Sassy series. Reblogs, comments, likes, interactions, etc are cherished by me. 🖤

Simon Riley/female reader 5.9k words - AO3

Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, pregnant reader, PTSD, thigh riding, Simon talks you through it, praise kink, explicit sex, jealousy, possessive Simon, angst, tenderness, mentions of blood and violence, nightmares, childbirth, medical procedures, Simon is bad at feelings; Simon is learning how to have his feelings. Simon has felt this before.

“And you are?”

“I’m her… I’m the baby’s father. We had her information updated two weeks ago, at the office. I’m listed as her emergency contact.” The doctor looks skeptical but taps a few keys on her laptop before she glances back to him.

“Last name?”

“Riley.”

“Sorry, Mr. Riley. She’s been my patient for nearly seven months, and I’ve never seen or heard of you.” Bloody hell. His jaw clenches together so hard he thinks his teeth might shatter.

“I’ve been overseas.” The lights and sounds are scratching under his skin, making him tense, priming him for a fight. “I came in on the ambulance with her... I have to be with her. She can’t be alone when she wakes up. She’ll be scared. She won’t… she has P-.”

“I am aware of her history.” The doctor snipes and his fist tightens, tendons curling until his hand becomes a weapon, not thing the of comfort it was a mere ten minutes ago.

“Look. I’m on her list. So you can let me back there or-“ She holds her hand up to silence him and the vein in his forehead pulses.

“I’ve already paged a tech to bring you to her room, Mr. Riley. It’s just going to be a few minutes.” She gives him a reproachful look before she says something about coming by to check on you shortly, and he lets out a long breath.

You’re somewhere else. Your eyes are trained on the e-reader in your hand, but they’re not moving across the screen. You’re not blinking. Your breathing is even, and deep, but your fingers are fisted in the blanket, and your gaze is burning a hole through the bed, through the floor, possibly right down to the core of the earth.

It makes Simon nervous.

Not because he is afraid of your PTSD.

He is afraid of you slipping away. Sometimes, you leave and come back a different girl, the guarded one, the one that hasn’t tried to forgive him, the one who is reliving the pain he caused her every second. The one who takes your place when you disappear right in front of him, who’s memories burn too bright.

He knows he may never be fully absolved in your mind, but you still show him mercy. You still let him in, still let him have you, except in the moments when you fall through his fingers like tiny grains of sand. Those moments may have been earned, but it doesn’t make their sting any less painful, and he struggles in throes of them.

“Sass?” He calls, cautiously, reaching for where your hand is clenched. His fingers graze the sheets, the softness of the fabric much like your skin. They must be expensive, he figures, the cotton luxurious against the rough scrape of his palm. He thinks he likes the color, the soft green that matches the chair and the trim in the baby’s room. “Glacial green,” you correct him every time he calls it light green, or blue green, or pea soup. It’s a natural tone, earthy, and you seem to gravitate towards it, always telling him you think the color is ‘soothing’ or ‘calming’. You have a few shirts and sweaters in the same palette too, and an old, faded sweatshirt that you used to wear when you were with the 141, worn out lettering stitched across the chest. It was too big for you then, always drooping below the flare of your hips, the hem stretched out and curled. Now, it pulls snugly across your middle while you lay in bed beside him, where the e-reader sits in your dainty fingers. He doesn’t know how you’ve done it, keep your fingers so velvet and smooth, even after your years in the desert. “Sass.” He tries again, louder, squeezing with the lightest bit of pressure until you blink.

“I’m here.”

“I know.” You turn your face up towards him with a sleepy smile, and he reaches for you without hesitation. “Tired?” He murmurs into your hair, your nose just slightly smashed into his neck.

“Mmm. Yeah, sleep sounds nice.” He finds the light easily, pulling the room into darkness with a flick of the chain, and returns to press his face to yours before succumbing to the pull of sleep.

“I mean, did you get a good look at her?”

“Shit. I’d bury my face in that ass. EOD is air force, right? Think she’s got a landing strip?”

“Dunno but I’d be coming in for a landing all the time if she was on my squad.” The table of privates laugh to each other, and Simon’s fingers curl around the bottom of the beer bottle in front of him. He briefly considers, for a moment, if Price would dismiss him if he broke it over one of their heads and then used the shards to slit the rest of their throats. Bleed ‘em out right there on the table.

He shifts on the stool. Johnny gives him a skeptical look. One of them, says something else. Sounds a little like ‘tight’ and ‘pussy’ strung together. Another one snickers.

He’s on his feet behind them before anyone realizes. The low drone of rage pressurizes inside his skull.

“Want to share what’s so funny, private?” The table falls silent immediately, all of them staring up at him, dumbfounded.

“N-nothing’s funny, sir.”

“Ya sure about that?” Johnny chimes in before Simon can say anything.

“The bomb tech, we were just… appreciating her. Saying how nice it must be nice, having something like that to look at all the time.” Simon can feel the heat of Johnny’s gaze on the nape of his neck.

“The bomb tech outranks you, private. You will address her as Sergeant.”

“Y- yes, sir.”

When he gets back to the base and little house the 141 is crammed into, you’re already asleep in your room. Sprawled across the shitty thin mattress, your shirt rucked up around your stomach, little boyshorts riding the curve of your hips. The scar from Belize is still shiny across your ribs, peachy and puckered. The sight of you safe and sleeping soothes the raw buzzing of anger in the back of his head.

His girl. His.

He’s already got his hands all over you by the time he gets his boots off, and you shift a little when he presses his face into the top of your ass.

“Simon?” you mumble. “Y’okay?” Simon, Simon, Simon. It’s always Simon with you now. You’re constantly stripping him bare with it, and he doesn’t even know your name.

He teases a hand across your skin, over the scar and up under the peak of your breast to your nipple, where he rolls the already hardening bud between his fingers. You shudder with a moan, shoulders twisting to turn yourself on your back, but he stops you. His teeth find the swell of your ass, and he sinks them deep. You squeak.

“Can you hold still?” He says, your body answering for you with a shiver. The bite woke you sharply, and you watch him out of the corner of your eye.

He pulls the underwear down your legs until they disappear, and then sinks his fingers into your cheeks. The glisten of your cunt shimmers, already wet, already waiting for him.

“Scoot back, sweet girl. Up on your knees.” You do as he says, shimmying down until you’re pressing against his thigh, clit ghosting against the fabric of his jeans, just barely. Your hips are shifting, slowly, and he knows you’re trying to get just a little bit more friction. He leans over you, gloved hand in your hair. “Now be good for me and rub your desperate little clit on my leg until you come.” You shake your head no and he rears back, pulling off his shirt and gloves, leaving the mask and his jeans the only thing on his body. He slaps you across your ass, just hard enough to watch the skin turn under his palm, and you jolt with a moan, cunt pushing back against his leg. “Do you want me to give you my cock, Sass?” you nod frantically. “Then ride my thigh until you’re coming on it.” The curve of a smile, a smirk, pushes at your cheek, and you start to move your hips, slowly at first, and then fevered, chasing your high while he watches. “That’s my girl, just like that.”

You start to jerk erratically, your face screwing up into the little pout and he knows you’re close. “You going to come Sass?” You mewl pathetically, mouth making desperate sounds and he watches you rub yourself all over him. “Sweet girl. That’s it, just a little more. There you go.” Your gasps reach a fever pitch, and he groans. “Ride it out, good girl. Come all over me.” His jeans are smeared with you, but he praises you, telling you how good you were, how much he likes that you made a mess on him. Once you come down from it, he strips and presses himself along your back, rucking the balaclava up to his nose to pull the skin beneath your ear between his teeth. He wants to mark you, hard. Leave an impression of himself on your body, brand you down to your bones. Tomorrow, when those fuckwit privates line up for brief, he wants them to know.

He sinks into you as deep as he can, little noises coming from your mouth as he splits you open on his cock, your cunt so tight it feels like it’s choking him.

“Si-Simon.” It’s his name, again. You’re flaying him alive with it. When you say it, it feels like he’s not wearing the mask, it feels like he is Simon, and not Ghost. He’s becoming addicted to it, consumed by it. It makes his head foggy, makes him do things that he’s never done, like approach a table of infantry and scare them out of running their mouths, or mark you like you belong to him. You cloud his judgement. You make him want things, things he doesn’t deserve, things he could never have. You make him soft, and desperate, and when you turn and look over your shoulder as he slams himself to the hilt, your gaze burns into him like you’re seeing him. Like you know.

“Please, don’t.” Your voice breaks as you beg, clutching the baby to your chest. Your face is bruised, nose probably broken, and tears stream down your cheeks. You’re trembling, eyes desperate as you plead. “Simon. Simon, get up. Please, get up.” He tries, but he can’t. He is beaten. His body is broken, bones shattered, organs bleeding out slowly inside him. The cool metal kiss of a barrel presses to your temple and you scream at him, for him, he’s not sure anymore. “SIMON GET UP.” His body weighs a thousand pounds, and cannot lift himself to help you, to save either of you. The gun cocks, and you close your eyes right before the finger on the trigger moves, the bang echoing across the room and your-

He jerks awake, immediately seeking the warmth of your body next to him in bed. When he feels you, his chest loosens, and you shift onto your side, cracking an eye open.

“Hey.” Your voice is thick with sleep, but still sweet as honey, and he takes your hand in his. Your pulse flutters under his palm. Strong. Stable.

“Hey.”

“Nightmare?” He nods.

“Go back to sleep.” You roll your eyes, flicking on the light that sits at your bedside table.

“I’ve been sleeping forever, I am practically sleeping beauty at this point.” You stroke through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. “Wanna talk about it?” you whisper, and he shakes his head. Yeah, Sass. Want to hear all about how I keep dreaming of your bloody corpse? Or about how I keep seeing you and our son being murdered right in front of me, over and over and I’m powerless to stop it? That’ll do real well for your stress level. Instead, he smooths his hand over the swell of your belly, where the baby sleeps, warm and protected, safe from everything out here that might hurt him. “You promised.” You needle, and the slight push is all that’s needed to relent.

“I keep… dreaming of you dying. Or being killed, in front of me. You and the baby.” You sit up a little and he immediately pulls the second pillow down behind the small of your back for support.

“Dying how?” He swallows.

“Someone’s holdin’ a gun to your head and you’re begging me to save you, but I can’t. I’m lying on the floor, bleeding out.”

“Sounds pretty scary.” There are a lot of things, that he hasn’t found the courage to say out loud to you yet. Promises and pledges, thoughts about being grateful and feelings of adoration. He wants to tell you how much he appreciates that you listen to him, that you validate him, but the words never come out, so he presses a kiss to your forehead before sliding down so his head is resting on the side of your belly.

The memory of the dream skips across the forefront of his mind, and he can still see you lying in a pool of blood, little boy lifeless in your arms. The blood, that looks just like the blood that covered the walls and the floor of his family’s house. His mom’s blood. Tommy and Beth’s. Joseph’s. The blood, that looks just the same as it did when he found you unconscious a few weeks ago, smells the same as when it poured out of the wound in your stomach in Belize. The blood, the blood, the-

“Simon.” He doesn’t even realize he’s breathing harshly until he hears you saying his name. “Hey, Si. Simon, it’s alright.” You stroke up and down his arm, tracing a faded pattern in his sleeve. “You’re here, in my house. In my bed. With me. There is no danger.”

“With you.”

“With me. And the baby. We’re here, together. We’re safe.” He turns his head, pressing his ear to your skin. Swoosh swoosh swoosh. The heartbeat soothes the frayed edges of his nerves, and the two of you sit just like that for a while, content. “Shit.” You groan, the sound a low whisper, and anxiously rub your belly. He waits for what he knows is coming, the pure, sweet melody that you hum when you try to settle the baby. The once guilty pleasure, when he would stand just out of sight so he could hear it, is now a full indulgence, as he’s able to lay beside you and rub circles into your skin while you hum softly.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, you gasp in surprise.

“Sass? What is it?”

“I… I think I peed myself.”

“Hey!” No. How did you find him so fast? “Simon, wait.” When you say his name, it jams into his brain, scrambling the signal, and forcing his steps to falter. It’s just enough for you to catch him. “Look. I know you’re mad. I know I fucked up.” You’re breathing heavily, probably from sprinting down the row of tents that he had ducked past, and you push your hands out in front of you like you’re trying to cage him in. “But I made sure Gaz was alright, and I still had a job to do! Those charges were my priority, I wouldn’t have split up otherwise. Simon, I understand-“ He cuts you off swiftly.

“You can address me by my call sign, Sergeant.” You startle. He looks away, looks anywhere else but your face, where your gaze waits to peel him open.

“What?”

“You will address me as Ghost, or Lieutenant.”

You’re guarded now, expression wary, but there’s still something hopeful in your eyes, something that’s calling him home to you.

He has to get away. Now.

You take an uneasy step forward, hand extended like you’re going to touch him.

“Simon.” You whisper.

He steps back.

Your face falls.

He’s tactical about it. The bag, the extra pillow, your shoes. A phone charger, the collection of snacks you’ve been hoarding recently, like a dragon hoards their gold. He remembers everything.

Almost everything.

His phone rings when he’s buckling his seatbelt.

“So, should I like, call an uber or are you going to help me get in the truck?” Bloody hell. He nearly beats his head against the steering wheel before he’s unbuckling and running towards the door. You’re standing in the living room, hands on your hips, unimpressed, with a hint of a smile on your lips.

“I’m sorry, I-“ you wave him off, reaching for his arm.

“Come on, you gotta boost me up.”

His eyes dart back and forth from the road, to where you sit, stone-faced in the passenger seat. You’ve been quiet since he pulled out of the driveway, the silence an uneasy thing that rests heavily between the two of you, and he reaches for your hand that lays limp on the seat.

“How’s the pain?”

“Not too bad.” You’re chewing on your lip, still lost in thought for a moment before you speak again. “Simon. If something happens…” his blood freezes.

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“We’ve never discussed it though. What to do if something goes wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Something has already gone wrong. Everything has gone wrong. It can’t get worse. It can’t.

“Well, if there are complications and we have to choose…” He almost pulls the truck over, his heart seizing in his chest like he’s been electrocuted. A million scenarios slam through his brain at record speed, flipping open in front of him like a picture book. Everything he’s imagined before, but worse. This time, it’s not mercs, or a stray bullet, or shadowed government assassins that take you away from him, but your own body, or a doctor, or-

No. He would not be without you if there was a choice. Not again.

“There is no choice, Sass.” His voice is gruff, and you palm your belly with a gulp. “We… I, would choose you. A million times. A million and one. There is no other choice… for me.”

“Okay.” You whisper. A tear rolls down your cheek before it’s hastily wiped away, and you turn to him with wide eyes.

“Okay.” He echoes, taking your hand in his.

You almost died. You almost died, and he wasn’t there. Johnny almost died, and you almost died, and he can’t stop thinking about the two of you wandering around trying to find the 141, trying to escape without a weapon, or comms, or anything. He can’t stop thinking about how vulnerable you were, how close you came to being dead. Being gone. Like everyone else. Like his family.

The feeling fills his body with ice. It paralyzes him before panic seizes his nervous system, pouring fear into every synapse flitting through his brain.

His family. You could have been lost, like his family.

He barges through the door of the office, eyes wild behind the mask.

“I need her gone.” Price looks up at him, perplexed.

“Who?”

“Sass. Transfer her. Put her on leave. Anything.”

“What are you on about?”

“I can’t… I can’t have her here. She’s fuckin’ with my head.” His chest feels tight, like there’s a thousand pounds sitting on his ribcage. It’s terror that is pumping through his veins right now, unbridled, and raw, threatening to wreck him where he stands.

“Ghost, calm down.”

“I can’t!” It’s practically a shout. He’s losing it. The empty echo of the dead radio replays over and over in his head. The image of Johnny, bleeding out, slumped against your small frame, the panic on your face, the two of you covered in blood loops repeatedly every time he closes his eyes. It melts into the memories of finding his family dead and then twists together, over and over until he thinks he might be hallucinating.

“Tell me what’s going on.” Price is standing now, voice calm, gesturing to the other chair. He’s not a loose cannon, not anymore, but it’s been a long time since he’s raised his voice at the captain. Guilt swells inside him.

“I’m fuckin’ her.” He paces in front of Price’s desk. “And it’s… She’s messing me up. Can’t think clearly.”

“You’re what now?”

“I’ve never… I’ve never asked you for anything-”

“Simon-“

“and I know this is unfair. She’s great at her job, Price I know that. But I have the seniority. And I need ya to do this for me.”

“I can’t just dismiss her. I brought her here, asked her myself.” He grits his teeth.

“Price… she….” His lungs are screaming now, his breath coming in short gasps but there’s no oxygen in this room. “It’s not… I can’t. It’s not safe.”

“Simon, sit down.” It’s an order, and he complies, slumping into the chair and cradling his head in his hands. “Now. Start from the beginning.”

“I know you’re disappointed.”

“You said I would be able to try.” You doctor is sitting on a chair at your bedside, across from Simon. She’s wearing a very serious expression, and you’re wearing your ‘don’t fuck with me face’, the one he’s seen time and time again, before and during ops. You open your mouth to argue with her again, but a contraction steals your breath, your nails sinking into his skin like tiny razorblades.

“Just breathe.” He soothes, stroking over the crown of your head until you fall back onto your pillow, tense lines of your forehead relaxing as your eyes close.

“If the placenta separates any further from the wall of the uterus during the rest of your labor, it could be life threatening for both you and the baby.” She doesn’t handle you with kid gloves, and you lift a lid to glare at her. He swallows the chuckle in his throat. Surefire way to catch a fist in the jaw.

“Fine.” The word is hissed through clenched teeth, and she pats your hand reassuringly.

“They’ll be some paperwork to sign, and then we’ll get you prepped. Nothing to eat or drink in the last six hours, right?”

“I’ve been in labor for the last seven and a half hours, so no.” you deadpan, before looking longingly over to your bag of snacks. The doctor glances at him with a gentle smile.

“Mr. Riley, you’ll need to change, we can… hopefully, provide you with scrubs that fit. We’ll also give you a surgical mask, and a cap. Sound good?” He nods in thanks as she leaves, and he turns back to you, pulling the mask down to his chin to rest his cheek against your palm. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not gonna pass out in there, right?”

“Me?”

“Well, they are going to pull my guts out.” What? You giggle, just a little, and heave a sigh. “But seriously. Don’t faint. I don’t think they have gurneys big enough for you.”

“I’ve seen plenty of guts, Sass.”

“Yeah…but not mine.”

Price announces his presence with a knock. “Heli’s almost here.” Simon says nothing. His elbows dig into his knees, fingers rolling the elastic band between his thumb and forefinger, strands of your hair wrapping around and around the tie until they become tight, little strings that make indentations. “Ghost.” He knows what Price wants. What he wants to hear. He still says nothing. “I did this for you against my better judgement.” Price says, like he doesn’t already know. When Simon looks at him, he sees the weight of their decision. The shame. The guilt. And he feels it, too. “You should say goodbye, Simon.”

His voice is rough, on the verge of a scream, or something worse when he finally speaks.

“I can’t.”

“So, when you get in the room, you’ll notice she’s lying on a table, and there’s a drape that’s a visual barrier between her chest and the rest of her body.” The nurse, the super friendly one that you said you liked, is talking him through what’s happening while he walks down the hallway next to her. Her shoes squeak a little bit against the linoleum, and he focuses on the pattern of the sound. Step squeak, step squeak, step- “Now, she can’t feel anything, but C-sections can be nerve-wracking, and she got a little anxious when we got into the OR.” He nods. Of course you’re nervous. You’re strapped to a table where they’re about to cut a hole in your abdomen. “She’s asked for you a few times, I promised I’d deliver.” She gives him a wink and pushes open a door. “Here he is!” She calls cheerily, and you turn to look, eyes finding his within a second, like always.

“Simon.” You wiggle your fingers towards him, and he wastes no time, sitting in the chair that the nurse pointed to and bringing your hand to the mask, right where his lips are.

“Hi sweet girl. You alright?” You nod.

“I think I’m a little high.”

“She had just a bit of midazolam, for the nerves.” Your doctor says from the other side of the drape.

“That’s alright.” He smoothes some hair from your face and tries to remember to breathe. Everything about this room sets him on the edge, and there’s a live wire running through his bones, all the way down to where his hand holds yours. There are too many people, too many lights, machines, and his skin is crawling, the desire to snatch you from the table and disappear down the hall repeating in the back of his mind, again and again. He can’t stop thinking about what could go wrong, terrible scenarios that leave you dead or the baby dead, or both. They push and pull at the logical side of his brain, fighting to get through, desperate to derail him, insistent and-

You smile up at him, all sweet, a little daft from the drugs, and everything feels quiet again. The tension between his shoulder blades lets out like air from a balloon, fast and easy.

“You ready?” He thumbs at a tear escaping from the corner of your eye. You’re looking at him, looking beneath the mask, kicking and tearing past the pieces of Ghost until you strike true, until you reach Simon. You always do.

He pushes his forehead against yours, and breathes you in, the stench of sterile hospital and all.

“Yeah, Sass. I’m ready.”

He’s pulling the balaclava back over his face when you bust through the door and ram right into him. He recoils, the reaction second nature, and his eyes find yours in the little bathroom mirror immediately. You step away, the room stretching too big all the sudden, the distance between his body and yours too far, and his brain stumbles over the realization. Something stutters in his chest, his breath catching when he looks at you, watching as you flail before you look away.

“Shit! Fuck. Sorry.” You glance at the wall, then the floor, then turn to run before he figures out how to make his mouth work.

“You’re alright, Sass. I’m finished.” You’re standing half in the hall, half in the bathroom, bleeding, and something twists in his gut. Blood and injury are not uncommon in the 141, but he’s surprised at how unsettled he feels when he sees the trickle of red on your shoulder.

“Get that cleaned up.” It comes out rough, like an order, and your throat bobs with a swallow.

“Okay a little bit of pressure and then you’re going to feel a lot of relief.” The doctor says and you nod, fingers pressed into his palm.

“Simon.” Your voice wavers.

“I’m right here. I got you.” He keeps his eyes trained on yours, willing himself to get lost in the hue of your irises, tuning out everything else in the room until-

A baby cries.

“Congratulations mom and dad!” Someone calls and the room spins. Mom and dad.

“Can I see him?” your fingers are still entrenched in his, the words watery and light.

“Breath sounds are good.” A voice says, and then there’s a squalling baby next to him. A baby. Your baby. His.

“Oh. Oh.” You’re in shock, he thinks. He’s not sure, because he might be too, and he blinks rapidly as you place a few fingers on the baby’s cheek. “Hi, Theo.” You coo and cry, smiling through the tears that dot your face. The nurse says something to you, and then she places the baby on your chest, where you cradle him with your other arm, pulling Simon’s hand up towards Theo’s back for support, holding it against his skin. You glance up at him for a second, teary happiness morphing into concern, and then back before your finger lifts from Theo’s cheek to his, swiping along his cheekbone. He presses your palm to his face with his free hand, over the mask, and closes his eyes for a second.

When you pull away, your fingers shimmer under the white lights of the operating room, and the tips of them shine with something wet.

His tears.

“I don’t see cabbage. What about romaine?”

“No. It has to be cabbage. Or kale! But I really prefer cabbage, and so does your kid, you know. Romaine is totally different.” You babble, and he stares at the heads of green leafed things underneath the misters, eyes scanning for the label that says cabbage.

“I don’t see any cabbage, Sass.” A woman who’s inspecting a shiny red pepper a few feet away from him looks over, curiously.

“It’s a staple food, Si. It never sells out; it has to be there.”

“It’s not.”

“Ask someone.” Irritation is bleeding into your voice now, and the idea of approaching a store employee makes his skin itch. Maybe he can just buy the romaine and ask for forgiveness, or go to a different supermarket. It’s not quite midnight yet, something else could be open.

The woman inspecting the peppers has sidled closer to him, close enough that he can see her face turned upwards towards his, eyes studying the balaclava before she clears her throat.

“Excuse me?” He turns, eyes narrowed.

“Who is that?” your voice rings through the speaker. “Is that a woman? Ask her where the cabbage is!” He pulls the phone away from his ear and blinks down at her.

“The cabbage is up here.” She says politely, pointing to the top row of light green, rounded vegetables. Nearly in front of his face.

“Thanks.” He says roughly, but she smiles at him all the same, while you call his name over and over on the phone. “I got it.”

“Yes! Oh my god thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bloody lucky I love you.”

The line is silent. His heart lurches, thundering into a frantic beat that thrums through his entire body. His limbs feel numb, and he doesn’t say anything else, just holds his breath. He can hear you breathing, just barely, through the phone, but it sounds like you’re trying to hold your breath, too. Like you’re listening for him.

“Simon-“

“I still gotta get the potatoes. See you in a bit.” The line goes dead.

“Okay, sit here.” The nurse instructs and he forces his legs to move, makes his knees bend so he can lower himself in the chair. He can’t look away from what she’s holding in her arms, the infant, the baby that is his and yours. His kid. “Skin to skin is very important for newborns. It helps regulate their heartbeat and breathing and can help maintain their temperature.” She continues, motioning for him to relax against the backrest.

“Skin to skin?”

“Yes. You’ll need to take off your shirt.” He shakes his head. He can’t do this. You should be doing this. You’re his mother. He’s… he’s not you. Theo won’t want him, he’ll want you. He- “Mr. Riley? You don’t have to, but while we wait for her to get back, it’s a good opportunity for it.”

“What do I do?” The idea of holding Theo to his scarred chest makes him feel sick.

“Once you take off your shirt, I’ll put Theo in your arms and cover you both with a blanket.”

“I don’t think…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll show you how to hold him if that’s what you’re worried about.” Theo cries out, a sharp, shrill sound that draws her attention downwards before she looks back up at him with an expectant expression. Skin to skin is very important for newborns. He knows you would want him to do this. He knows that you would understand too, if it was too much, if he felt too exposed. But it’s important. Theo needs this. He needs… his dad.

He pulls the scrub top over his head, careful to keep the mask in place, and leans back slowly against the chair.

“You’re going to support his head just like this-“ she moves him into the crook of his elbow, positioning his little legs and arms so that he’s laying flush against his chest. “and his body will just rest right here in this space… and there you go.” Simon doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t move, he can hardly think. He doesn’t even feel her place a blanket over his body, curling it beneath where he cradles the baby. All he can see is Theo in his arms, so tiny, his eyes scrunched shut and small hand curled into a fist.

The lights in the room go dim, and he looks up, realizing that the nurse is by the door. “I’m going to give you some privacy. They should be finishing up with mom soon but there’s a button right there, next to the bed. The red one. Press it if you need anything and one of us will be here right away. Okay?” She gives him another encouraging smile and he nods.

“Okay.” When the door clicks shut, he finally lets out the shakiest breath of his life and reaches up to pull the surgical mask from his face. Theo’s eyes aren’t open, but his chest rises and falls, soothing some of the fear that has a grip on his heart. He gently touches Theo’s hand, and his tiny fingers curl around Simon’s giant one. He gets lost, staring down at the small boy. Looking at every single feature, his ears, his nose, the bow of his lips. He tries to memorize it all, the way the tuft of his hair sits, the creases of his skin around his elbows and knees, the soft pant of his breath. It fills him with emotion, so much he’s afraid it might overwhelm him, bury him beneath its weight. He knows this feeling, has felt it grow inside him since the very first day he laid eyes on you. Has watched it fight through a forest of dark and snarled roots, cutting and biting away at the things that have died and festered inside him. He knows it better than he knows himself now, knows the truth, cannot deny this knowledge that he would lay down and die for you, for Theo. He understands the pure terror that has blazed within him since that day in Belize, and he knows that he would spend the rest of his life, waiting in agony with bated breath, just to kiss you once more, or hold his child in his arms.

It terrifies him, but he knows its name.

He knows it’s love.

Simon leans down and brushes his lips across his son’s forehead, gentle and light, before murmuring to him as softly as he can manage.

“Hey, Theo. I’m your dad."

The next fic in this series is here.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #female reader #sassy series #simon riley #pregnant reader #simon riley x you #cod mw22 fanfiction #cod fanfic #tw pregnancy #peaches writes #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x female reader #dad Simon Riley

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daenysx · 1 year

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Hi, would you write a modern aemond where he's a virgin and quite shy? ♡ First time with his girlfriend he's a bit ashamed of his inexperience/has performance anxiety and he doesn't last very long, but she's super kind about it and makes him feel comfortable

thanks love ♡

hii! thank you for this request, i've never written aemond as a shy character before but i tried my best, i hope you like it!!

i always think that aemond would love receiving praises and he deserves to know how good he is. in my stories mostly he is the one giving praises but this time i wanted him to be the praised one. ♡

title's from suki waterhouse' lovely song 'good looking'

my masterlist

my good looking boy

you are the first person modern!aemond has sex with. nsfw.

aemond has no idea how good he looks right now.

not good, perfect. such a gorgeous man and he is with you. you know he doesn't usually believe in your words about how good looking he is, how kind and gentle, how perfect for you. he's gotten used to receiving problematic words from his family, he's never felt appreciated enough and you always intend to change his mind.

he should know how perfect he is.

he is just sitting on the couch with wearing nothing but his sweatpants, his back is against the comfy pillows and he has this book he's recently obsessed with in his hands. his pretty hands. he looks concentrated, unaware of your presence as you stand by the door. you take your time, watch him a little bit more and enjoy the sight in front of you.

he lifts his hand to push his hair from his face then reaches for his cup on the coffee table. he takes a sip and you watch how the muscles of his throat move with the act. as he puts the coffee cup back, he looks at the door and sees you.

he smiles so beautifully when he sees you standing there. you approach him, he puts his book aside and opens his arms for you. he always welcomes you with open arms and helps you lay on top of him. he knows you love the comfort you feel with him after a long day, just listening to his heartbeat to acknowledge his presence, feeling he is there for you.

your relationship has started a little while ago, you were just friends before you both realized your feelings for each other. aemond always told you how bad he thinks he is with feelings and relationships but that was okay. you were willing to be the brave one, the one who confessed first, the one who gave the first kiss, the one who first started a hug.

you lift your head enough to kiss him, he parts his lips enough to let your tongue in his mouth. he holds the back of your head securely in his big hand and you keep kissing him until you decide to move further.

you feel him smiling on your lips and you smile back. you've never done anything more, only these intense kisses and touching each other. it felt a bit awkward at first, thinking you were friends before and now that he is your boyfriend. you took your time, waited enough to feel comfortable for something more.

and now, you feel like you're on the edge with how gorgeous your man looks.

he can turn you on without doing anything spesific. fuck, he turns you on just by sitting shirtless and reading a book. you try to settle on his lap more comfortably and he holds your hips while you do that.

you press yourself to his hardness which is inevitable to feel right now and he makes a sound, clearly indicating he was not expecting this.

"sorry." you say, laughing slightly.

he smiles, "that's okay."

"i know we didn't really talked about this but- if it feels weird we can always try later. i just-"

he cuts your rushed words with a simple kiss. "nothing feels weird with you sweetheart. it's- i want to do this with you. but, i think you should know that i've- i've never done that before."

you are a little bit surprised but you don't say it. "that's fine. we can take all the time you want. just-anything you're okay with."

you see his cheeks turn pink and you love the color on him. you can't even describe how lovely he looks, how pretty for you. you give him a comforting smile.

"do you want to go to bed?" he asks, almost whispering.

you nod, take his hand and lead him to the bedroom. he sits on the bed while you stand and looks at you, unsure of what he's supposed to do.

you lean closer to give him a little kiss as you move your hands to take off your clothes. your shirt goes first, then your skirt. he watches you with a starved look on his face. you take off your bra and your panties as he can look at your face only. your clothes make a little pool on the floor and you kneel in front of him.

"can i take this off?" you ask with a smile, your forefinger points his sweatpants. he nods and lifts his hips to help you.

he doesn't wear any underwear.

and he looks gorgeous. the tip of his cock is slightly red, he is hard for you and you can't help but pressing a little kiss to the tip of him. he winces, closes his eye.

"we can do anything you want, however you want. just tell me, my love." you say with a reassuring smile.

"i'd like to be inside you first, but i'm not sure i can last long." he says.

"that's fine. we have all the time in the world. would you like to be on top?"

he thinks for a small moment. "no, i want you on top of me. you'd look so good on top of me."

for a man who never had sex, aemond targaryen surely knows what to say to make you fall for him.

he lays down on bed, extends his hand for you to reach. you sit on his abs, slowly moving on top of him and his cock presses against your backside. your wetness stains his abs and he loves the feeling. he loves the way you kiss his chest when you move, the way you bite his nipple playfully, the way he can hold onto the soft flesh of your thighs.

you are everything he has ever longed for and he is glad that he waited enough to have his first time with you.

"that feels- fuck, that's perfect but i want you, i want to be inside-" he says with an impatient voice.

"do you have any idea how good you look right now? no, you don't. you don't have a little clue about what you do to me just by looking like that. my good looking boy." you say, finally moving closer to his cock.

he moans deeply when you hold him in your hands, adjust yourself on top of him and take him inside you. he loves the feeling of your warmth, your tight muscles clenching around him, and it's perfect. such a lovely feeling, it makes him feel safe, totally unaware of the outside world right now.

you start riding him, taking his hand to stroke your clit at the same time. you guide him first but he is a fast learner, he starts doing it with his own pace now. you arch your waist like a purring cat and he says your name with a desperate voice.

"i'm- too close, i can't stop!"

you nod feverently, "don't stop. never stop."

he rubs your clit harder and your little kiss on his chest makes the final for him. he lifts his hips and comes inside you with a grunt.

you are mesmerised by the way he looks when he comes.

he takes quick breaths, tries to calm himself. your warmth still surrounds him and he realizes you're still waiting for your own peak.

"fuck, i'm sorry. i'm sorry, my love, i should've-"

you shush him as he sits on bed with you on his lap, put a finger on his lips and stop him from talking nonsense.

"that was perfect, aemond. it was supposed to be good for you and you- you don't know how pretty you look when you come. for me it was enough."

he kisses you, he is still inside and you can feel him getting hard. "thank you for being so kind. i love you."

"i love you, too."

"can you let me make it up to you, right now?"

you laugh at his words. "of course."

he smiles too, you lay on your back now as he stays on top, he pulls himself back. "i need you to tell me what you like. i want to learn how you like it, how to make it good for you."

you nod attentively, hold his face and kiss him. you guide his long fingers on your clit. "i like how you touch me here. like this."

he nods, trying to understand the basics of it. you let his hand move and he finds your entrance with his fingers. you guide them inside you. "there's a spot that feels- oh!"

it appears your good looking boy is successful at everything he does. his fingers find your g-spot with the little help from your hips and he presses there.

he moves his fingers inside you, his thumb stays on your clit. "mm-hmm, there. that's so beautiful. you are so good for me."

aemond loves when you praise him, your words are sincere and so sweet. he wants to make you feel good, he wants his touches to make you lose it for him.

he sucks your nipple, and then the other one. you push your body to him, wanting him to keep going.

"like that, just like that!"

it only takes three more thrusts for you to reach to that lovely state. you moan his name, not caring about how loud you are. he feels the pride deep in his heart, smiles broadly and kisses you. you grab his cock when your orgasm hits you and you move your hand fastly to make him come once more.

he pushes his cock to your fist and he is gone after a few moments.

he feels so good, so relaxed. he lays on bed with you on his chest and pulls the covers on you.

you are trying to catch your breath as he rubs circles on your back, your nipples press on his skin and his softened cock rests on his thigh.

you enjoy a few minutes of comfortable silence.

you leave the bed afterwards, go to the bathroom to clean yourself. you grab a towel for him, hand it to him when you go back to his side and let him clean himself.

he looks calm and grounded, his eye closing slowly and you know he wants to sleep with you in bed. you kiss his forehead affectionally, mumbling how perfect he is. you take the used towel from him and put it in washing machine.

you go to kitchen with quick steps after wearing one of his shirts and clean panties. you bring him a cool glass of water and sit on the edge of the bed on his side.

"come on, drink some water my love."

he slowly sips his water, grateful for the care you show him. you hold his hand when he finishes the water in the glass and put the glass on the nightstand.

he opens the covers for you and takes you in his arms. you kiss his neck, wrap your arms around him.

"thank you." he says, and his voice sounds a little shy it makes your heart clench.

"i want you to feel good with me. i like taking care of you, i like making you smile. you deserve all the sweetness i could ever offer."

"i feel the best when i'm with you. i just- i'm not used to it but i love it. pretty words and someone taking care of me." he says.

"that's okay. we have time, remember? you'll get used to all of it, baby."

he kisses you good night then, and you watch him fall asleep, holding you closer and closer.

your good looking boy.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #modern!aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond one eye #aemond × reader #aemond fluff #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut

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pupyuj · 1 year

Note

gp itzy thoughts i beg cuz ur yuna one has me GIGGLING

i got you anon 😩😤😤 i personally view all of g!p itzy as subs (yes even ryujin don't fight me on this 🤭🤭) unless the scenario prompt is specific SO IT'S DOM READER TIME 😏 their names r color coded cuz some are longer than others i got a bit too into it 💀

that g!p yeji thought i posted a while ago is kinda perfect bcs it's just so her?? like to be so weak n pathetic when it comes to you :(( a little tease n baby is immediately rock hard, weakly asking for you to stop messing with her but secretly wanting for you to just,, ride her already 😭😭😭 she definitely likes being forced into having sex in like, public spaces 🤭 like she's saying "no stop (y/n) we can'tttt there's people here :((" but then why is she eagerly pounding into you while she's holding you up against the mirror in a changing room?? why isn't she doing anything other than sitting there n letting you jerk her off while you're in the movie theatre??? 🫢

lia's never beating the pillow princess allegations to me, even when she has a dick 🫡🫡 you're so pretty to her that she just wants to sit back and watch you do whatever you want to her with her cock :(( which ties into her voyeurism bcs she definitely gets off to the sight of you playing w your pussy in front of her,,, and n also in front of the mirror but like you're giving her a handjob n whispering dirty and borderline mean shit to her ear it gets her sooo horny you have no idea 😭😭😭 n she loves when u give her head bcs she can just look at your pretty face taking in her cock, she gets so proud :( big on praises during those moments but ultimately she's a slut for you 🫣

ryujin is kind of the tsundere-ish, pissy pants, big pride = big dick girl who hates being teased and played with but unfortunately you're a fucking brat 🤭 you're always groping her cock while people are around (they never notice), telling her things in her ear, wearing revealing clothing to rile her up, being touchy w people... but see, even if that makes ryujin pissed as hell she will not like, grab you and ruin you— no, that's what you do to her 👀 coming home from a party after flirting w the entire fucking house n ryujin is soooo mad 😭 like she's huffing, arms crossed and glaring at you while sitting on the bed as you're talking like nothing happened.. then you notice that look in her face n you laugh at her, making her even more mad 😭😭 but then you stand in between her legs and make her look up at you.. suddenly her eyes were the same as a puppy's?? like glossy and pleading while you're talking to her like, "d'you get jealous of that guy? c'mon, ryu, you know i only want your cock..." and "want me to prove it?" then she's nodding w a pout 🥺🥺🥺

making ryujin lay down on the bed to give her the best head of her life, one that pushes her to tears and has her seeing stars 🫠🫠 by the time you're riding her, she's crying bcs you feel so fucking good, like she's in literal disbelief over it 😩 sometimes the pleasure gets too much that ryujin will be so lost in her head while you're forcing orgasms out of her, but you're there to keep her grounded 🤭 leaning down to kiss her just to keep her eyes open and saying, "s-see, ryu?? fuck... i only want you..." she never doubted you ever again, but that didnt rlly stop you from just pissing her off anyway 😭

chaeryeong's reputation ain't the greatest bcs of her permanent rbf but that's what u love about her :( bcs she looks like this mean bitch who could kill anyone that thinks to approach you in a way she doesn't but u know how she is behind closed doors :(( she's your whiny baby who hides her face whenever you're touching her dick 😔 she's big on mommy kink and she's super polite 🥺🥺 always using 'please' whenever she wants to do something to you, or asking for your permission before coming she's the cutest 💔💔 and she looooves the collar + leash combo while fucking you from behind 😵‍💫 you pulling on the leash to bring her down, telling her to fuck you harder n then she's moaning "mommy!" in your ear the closer she gets to coming it makes her feel crazyy 😩

yuna is the type that can't keep her hands or her dick off of you 😭😭 she's always touching you and finds all the ways to feel your ass on her cock whether by sitting you down on her lap or hugging you from behind 😵‍💫 quickies happen a lot bcs again, she's just so addicted to the way your pussy clenches around her cock she literally cannot go a day without fucking you :(( so being apart from you is hard, sex wise!!!! she gets so pouty n she complains a lot,,, sends you photos and videos while you're away, and PHONE SEX!!!!! but it's never enoughhhh 😔😔 when you come back however.. be prepared for an entire day of fucking bcs yuna will literally not let you go anywhere once you're back with her 😭 yuna immediately pulling you to the bedroom as soon as you step inside her house :(( undressing you swiftly, pulling you to her lap to have you ride her cock for god knows how long 😵‍💫😵‍💫 her cum filling you up for hours but neither of you stopping bcs her cock and your pussy are just.. the perfect match 😔😚😚

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jonesywrites · 4 months

Text

I feel compelled, so I must.

*Now with images for context

Man I shit you not, I have so much stuff to do like SO MUCH but I also have ADHD and a tendency toward hyperfixation so I am compelled, I tell you.

I'm writing for a whole ass other ship, filming, and editing for my YT channel. But I saw gifs, and I read tweets, and I saw hot takes and then I decided to react to Season 3 Part I for my channel.

I AM OBSESSED.

I'm in the middle of editing my reactions to Ep 1-4 and I just HAVE to chime in with these observations I keep having as I go through and re-live each Polin scene while editing. I know some of this has been seen/said before but I'm a newb to this fandom and I just finished listening to all of the audiobooks (save Simon and Daphne's story) so I just gotta! I OBSERVED A LOT and there's a lot here, so . . .

Colin turns to the Featherington house as soon as he arrives home and greets his family.

Because whether he's aware of it or not, he's thinking of one of those Featheringtons, who happens to be standing there as he debuts "the new Colin" to the people he cares about the most -- which includes Pen, they are telegraphing to us in this moment -- (right after testing some of that newfound charm on a gaggle of giggly girls). I don't think he greets her right away because he isn't ready yet but you can see his smile/smirk when he spots her -- like "Yep, Pen, feast your eyes, it's the new me, and NOW I'll bet you'll want to hear about my travels."

Eloise is the first person to spot that he may not really be into this "new Colin".

The show GOES OUT OF ITS WAY to let you know this isn't really Colin, that his heart isn't really into it, from jump. The siblings Bridgerton do a little "we see each other" when he questions her about trying to fit into society after all this time -- they're two sides of the same coin. He's too sensitive and romantic for the rakes of the ton and she's too independent and free-thinking for the boring trappings of the marriage mart, but here they both are. Pretending.

Colin goes out of his way to test his new charm on half the ladies at the Queen's garden party thing BEFORE he approaches Pen to talk for the first time since he got back -- at first glance he's just doing his thing, being the new him, enjoying himself and his new ability to woo the ladies but IT IS THIS AUTHOR'S HUMBLE OPINION THAT HE WAS TESTING HIS CHARM TO ITS LIMITS BEFORE HE WENT OVER TO THE ONE GIRL HE ACTUALLY WANTS TO/TRUELY ENJOYS CONVERSING WITH TO LAY IT ON HER.

Wanna bet me he wasn't thinking about Pen while he was away, wondering why she wasn't answering, plotting to talk to her when he got back, plotting to see if his new charm would work on her because she's Pen and her opinion means a lot to him? He doesn't get why yet but it's there -- the tip of the iceberg, only a strong desire for her attention and approval right now, but I can sooooo see how that started to quickly burn into a much more intense desire for just...her.

I adore how Penelope asks the dressmaker for new dresses in the fashion of "what they are wearing in Paris" after Colin tells her his new wardrobe is what's all the rage in Paris from is travels.

He always counts on her just being Pen in the citrus colors hanging on the wall, a safe place, but then he sees her in that green dress and I truly believe this is the moment he realizes -- nah fam, this isn't just "Pen my friend who doesn't count (as a woman)", this is "wow who is that woman in the striking color with pretty lips and fiery red hair?"

This poor lovesick fellow has no idea why every time he sees her at a ball his heart does a funny thing and he suddenly can't see anyone else and he gets the urge to drink whatever's in his hand/close by.

HEY BABE IT'S BECAUSE YOU LIKE HER. A LOT. She isn't just Pen who doesn't count, she is SPECIAL.

Much has been said about the "Goodnight, Mr. Bridgerton" scene, but I'll just add that you can tell when Colin is being genuine and totally himself vs when he's trying to charm her into relaxing with him/being more like her usual self.

When he says "the colour rather suits you," he's being her good friend who is pleased to see her looking so good but he's also saying that to himself, judging by his tone, like "yeah girl you should wear green more often, this makes you look damn good". And when he says he misses her, he means it, but you can also hear the armor of that New Colin Charm in his tone. It's a vulnerable thing to admit, so he uses a devilish smile and has a wink in his eyes because so far that has worked on every girl here since he got back. Not Pen, though ... he was SHOOK when she rebuffed him and called him cruel.

Yes, he is absolutely panicked that he might lose his one true friend in all of the fickle ton, but also . . . Colin is totally realizing how hot Pen is in the garden scene. Colin is looking into her gorgeous eyes and admitting how she makes him feel and you can see the real-time realization in his eyes/expression. Handshake? He is acting on his impulse to touch her while using his newfound charm to disguise his curiosity.

Colin wants to hang out with her as much as possible because that's how comfortable and appreciated she makes him feel but also it's my opinion that he, at least subconsciously, also wants to keep looking at her, getting closer to her, winning her favor. He's not even thinking about the results of the whole charm lessons thing, he's just thinking about being around Penelope as much as possible because of that realization that she makes existing in a world that is determined to misunderstand him (and has "forced" him to don a mask/facade to survive) bearable.

I agree with those who pointed out that he is taken aback by Pen's awkward flirting session with the fan because normally when they're alone talking all he sees/experiences is her wit, intelligence, keen ability to read between the lines of their society, etc.

Also, you can see he doesn't even care what the other blokes think of her, he thinks she's friggin adorable -- he can't keep the smile off his face even as he's sympathizing with her for going down faster than the Titanic-which-doesn't-exist-yet-duh-but-analogy-with-me-here.

Every moment of the private lesson scene, from him instantly abandoning the card game with his siblings to the way he planned out the whole thing and thought about where everyone would be and what window of time they'd have to "practice" shows THAT HE WAS IN FACT VERY EAGERLY AWAITING HER VISIT for their lesson. Matter of fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who suggested the game in the garden to get everyone out of the house in anticipation of Pen’s arrival.

It is this author's humble opinion that Colin really, really wanted to pretend to flirt with Penelope to satisfy his nagging, subconscious (yet fluttering to the surface) curiosity and I AM WILLING TO BET MY TWIN SISTER'S WHOLE 2024 SALARY that (especially after her compliment shook him to his core) they wouldn't have made it much longer without him kissing her if they hadn't been interrupted and she had't read his journal.

He wanted alone time, he wanted intimacy, he wanted to flirt -- they would have charmed each other right into each other's pants if those lessons were allowed to continue, mark my words.

Colin's body was at least several weeks ahead of him. The body doesn't lie. Touching her skin in the garden. Leaning into her whenever they speak (with the convenient excuse of their height difference), pressing his palm into her lower back to escort her to the drawing room, sitting and letting her hold his hand for an unnecessarily long pause before forcing himself to stop staring at her and end the impropriety (escape the intensity of the moment to breathe and process, more like).

Jealous Colin(tm) with his intense eyes and hard jawline is everything and hot af, end of observation.

I love Dream Pen for Colin. The way he dressed her. The way his mind envisions her being breathless for him.

The way he pictures himself just holding her close and indulging in hot, sultry kisses until she's practically melting in his arms. THIS IS WHAT HE DREAMS ABOUT, WHAT HE TRULY WANTS. This boy is a Romantic with a capital ROMANTIC and I JUST LOVE how his dream about Pen reflects that so clearly. We've seen him struggling to pay attention or care in brothels but he displays more sexual intensity, passion, and lust in this romantic wet dream about simply confessing his feelings than any other time he's seen on screen with a woman he's supposed to find attractive.

The "Sweet Treats" scene, as I believe I've seen others pointing out, is --yes, sweet-- at a glance. But also HOT AF. He's pining, he's nervous, he's jealous, she's so sweet and lovely confessing her excitement and hopes for the match with Deblin. But it's also hot b/c I meeeean....The pink everywhere (pink walls, get it), her lips and his reaction to her glancing her tongue across them, his fingers flexing out of nerves but also the subconscious urge to touch, maybe even caress, is all in his stiff, hovering body language. Like, if he could shove those treats off one of those tables, throw her against it and ravage her "sweet treat" right then there in that pink little tent, homeboy totally would have if society/propriety/scandal/watching eyes weren't a concern.

SIDENOTE: I think Deblin was definitely attracted to Pen, it wasn't SOLELY a practical match for him.

He says she can make men wither within seconds of their first meeting and he definitely looks at her in a way that says he's charmed, intrigued, impressed, etc. So I think even they married, eventually he would start to miss her while away, then ache for her, then he would come home to her and he would fall. Gradually maybe, but I do believe Pen was right to hope love could grow between them. However, I'm so so sooo glad neither of them settled.

WHAT CAN BE SAID ABOUT THE CARRIAGE SCENE THAT HASN'T ALREADY BEEN SAID??? It's one of the hottest love scenes I've ever seen, and it's not because everybody is naked or because there's kink or anything crazy. It's because (for me) the actors TRULY CARE ABOUT THE DETAILS. Almost every frame has something you can freeze and stare at in awe, they DID THAT. Colin finally FEELING IT, with the one person who can truly see him and inspire those deep feelings he's been yearning for was HOT AF. Pen basically being at his mercy but also realizing her power over him and embracing it by letting him ruin her because it's COLIN (she wouldn't let anyone else do that, IMO, not even Deblin). MY FAVORITE PART:

At the end, when they exhale and slump into each other/the carriage seat in sync. She looks like she's never felt anything like this in her life (cuz she ain't) and he looks like he's finally HOME. And I'm not talking about his family's estate -- I specifically mean right there in Penelope's bosom, between her legs, her breath, her eyes, her moans for him, like he looks relieved and satisfied AND THEN HE'S LIKE "SO I'M NEVER LETTING THIS GO. DONE DEAL, YOU'RE MY PENELOPE, NOW."

Ugh. I loooove this couple! I HAD TO GET THIS OUT OF MY BODY. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. Gonna add stills for the moments I mention once Tumblr stops being a bitch.

#polin #bridgerton s3 #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #pen x colin #observations from a crazy person

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pablitogavii · 1 year

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Can u do one where reader is trying on swimsuits for a vaca with pablo and some friends like giving him a show and he starts getting over protective saying his friends won't stop staring and she shows him that she's all his?

( ik it's detailed sorry take ur time te amoo 🤍 )

Bikini show

Pablo was hanging out with Pedri, Ferran and Ansu playing some FIFA while you were trying on some bikini's you've recently ordered online in your shared bedroom.

"Amor?" you poked your head from the door and Pablo chuckled looking at you with raised eyebrows.

"Can I show you my bikinis??" you said excitedly and Pablo smirked nodding his head and laying back as you came to stand in front of him in your red bikini. He was certainly not the only one who was watching..all of his friends were suddenly lost interest in the game.

"Do you like it??" you said looking straight at Pablo who noticed his friends eyeing you so he pulled you between his legs and made you sit on his leg.

"It's precious..but they are looking at you and I don't like it!" Pablo whispered to you and you smiled kissing his lips which made the rest of the boys look away finally.

"How about I go to the room with you so you can show me all of them and then come back out when we are done??" Pablo suggested smirking seeing that his friends could clearly hear him.

"We can do it later if you wanna play.." you said feeling bad to interrupt his time with his friend but when you tried getting up he held you tightly on his lap.

"Amor..right now I wanna play with you" he whispered that part taking your hand and placing it on his now hard bulge and you blushed nodding your head. He wrapped your legs around his waist to hide his 'friend' from the rest before carrying you to the bedroom.

"I'll be back guys!" Pablo said before shutting the door and giggling with you while putting you back down.

"How many do you have princesa?" he asked and you showed him five swimsuits laid out on the bed all in different designs and colors.

"Let me help you with this one then.." he said undoing the bow from the back and slowly taking off your top while caressing your back and you blushed gluing your naked chest against him while kissing his lips.

"I think you will like this one the most!" you went to put on the green one next having a bit of trouble tying it on the back and Pablo offered his helps of course with a bit of dirty talk and wet kisses on your neck.

"So?" you said turning around looking at him as he laid back on the bed with his arms behind his head enjoying the view in front of him with a mischievous smirk.

"Fits you so well princesa.." he said and you blush looking in the mirror for yourself really liking how it contrasts with your tan skin.

"Then the pink one..if you don't mind?" you walked up to him so he can untie it again and he smirked nodding his head and pulling you to sit on top of him while undoing the knot on the back kissing your back.

"You know..I love everything you wear..but my favorite is when you have nothing on princesa" he held your boobs shamelessly and you giggled slapping his hands away before leaving to put another one on.

"This one is a little more sexy.." you said and he immediately looked up from his phone his eyes opening wide when he saw the small pink fabric of a bikini that left a little to imagination.

"Joder princesa! That one you can wear only when we are alone at my pool!" he had to sit up and pull you close to inspect it up close.

"I can't wear it at the beach this weekend??" you blush moving his hair form his forehead while he shook his head kissing your stomach and looking up.

"Not a chance princesa..unless you want me to fight everyone on the beach??" he smirked and you shook your head placing your hands on his shoulders and kissing his lips. You LOVED possessive Pablo!

"The next two are the same just different color.." you said when you pulled away about to walk away when he smacked your ass and you blushed hard.

"I like that one!" Pablo said with a smile and you nodded coming closer and sitting on his lap again snaking your arm around his neck and kissing his lips.

"Thank you cariño..for watching my fashion show" you winked and he smirked nodding his head and leaning in to kiss you again.

"Always amor..I enjoyed it very much!" he said into your lips while you both nodded and continued kissing completely forgetting that you were indeed not alone.

"Um..cariño..your..um friends are outside and we are done with the fashion show now.." you said holding in the moans although it was very hard now that his hands were on your body.

"Are you kicking me out princesa??" he pouted and you could help kissing his lips and playing with his hair when he was this adorable!

"I would love it the most if you could stay right here and hold me for hours cariño..but you haven't seen your friends in months..and I'll be right here later" you said still playing with his hair while he nodded kissing your lips again before letting you go so you can stand up.

"Alright, I'll see you later princesa..and then you will wear that pink one for me again" Pablo smirked and you blushed nodding your hair not letting him leave that quickly.

"Cariño wait!" you said and he turned back smirking

"You changed your mind??" he said playfully but then you fixed his hair before pecking his lips.

"Wasn't gonna let you go out there with 'sex hair' amor" you giggled and he smirked nodding his hair and kissing your lips again before opening the door and stepping out.

"Did you enjoy that fashion show Gavi??" Ansu joked and Pablo flipped him off although internally he was smirking thinking back on all those hot bikinis on your bodies.

"He doesn't like to share that's for sure chicos!" Ferran joked but Pablo didn't find it funny at all giving him a death glare.

"She's my girl cabrón!" Pablo said and al boys raised their hands up in surrender before starting the new game to play together.

I hope you enjoyed :))

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x reader #fc barça #gavi #gavigif #fc barcelona #fc barca #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x y/n #gavi x reader #gavi x you #gavi x yn #gavi x vini #pablogavixreaderfluff #pablogavixreadersmut #pablogavira

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thatgirlstrawberry · 2 years

Text

Sick Surprise pt. 6 — Rossi’s Princess Castle

In which Spencer invites Y/N to his team’s dinner but the sitter for Eloise cancels

Warnings: Fluff, ¿smut scene?, Eloise, Henry and Jack being adorable, dirty jokes, Derek teasing Spencer, the team being like wtf— 😧

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Spencer’s chest heaved as he collapsed on the bed next to his girlfriend. Her eyes were still squeezed shut and her lip between her teeth.

After a moment of breathing and calming down, Y/N hummed and moved to lay close to him. “Wanna go shower?” She asked, kissing his neck. “We can be louder in there.” He chuckled, rubbing her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Of course.” He kissed her lips and pulled away, laughing when she tried to catch his lips again. She giggled as he began talking again. “So… there’s this dinner…” He trailed off.

Y/N hummed, her fingers grazing over his abs gently. “Mhm…”

Spencer cleared his throat. “My friend from work is hosting at his house and Um—“ He paused and kissed her because her lips were searching for his. “They know that I’m dating someone— that someone being you— and Rossi invited you.”

Y/N stopped he movement of her hand and looked up at him. A small smile grew on her lips. “Really?” She asked quietly.

Spencer smiled down at her. “Really. I would really like for them to meet you.”

Y/N nodded. “But what if they don’t like me?”

The man scoffed. “They’re gonna love you.” He whispered. “I love you.”

Her smile grew and she grabbed the side of his face, kissing him. He pushed her hair out of the way and kissed her back. “I love you too. So much.” She mumbled between kisses. “And I would love to come to dinner.”

Spencer chuckled. “If you keep kissing me like that we’re not gonna make it to the shower.”

Y/N smirked, moving her body to straddle waist. “I’m okay with that.”

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Two days later, Y/N stood in front of her full body mirror in a dress and heels. Eloise was jumping on her bed and singing some song about colors she had heard on the tv earlier in the day.

“Mommy, how long you gonna be gone?” Eloise asked as she stopped jumping.

The mother hummed and spun around. “Just a few hours.”

Eloise shook her head and frowned. “A foo hours is wike… forever, mommy!”

Y/N giggled and sat on the edge of her bed, letting Eloise lean against her. “No it’s not, Eloisey. And you get to be here with Katie. Don’t you like Katie?”

The girl gasped. “Oh my dosh— I wuv Katie.” She breathed out.

Y/N smiled and nodded, kissing her cheek. “I know! You guys are gonna have so much fun!”

Like the universe hated her or something, her phone buzzed beside her and she picked it up.

From: Katie

Hi Y/N! I’m sooooo sorry but i can’t watch Eloise tonight. I think I caught the flu and I’d hate to get her sick

Y/N sighed and shut her eyes. “You’ve got to be fucking me in the ass.” She groaned, forgetting that there was a 3 year old right next to her.

“Mommy, why did you say the fuck word?” Eloise asked causing her to groan louder.

She opened her eyes and put a smile on her face. She knew that Spencer’s phone was on silent and he probably wouldn’t be paying much attention to it while he was with his team.

“No reason baby.” She shook her head. “Go pick out an outfit for you to wear tonight, okay?”

Eloise furrowed her eyebrows. “Why?”

Y/N swiped Jaír out of her baby’s eyes. “Because Katie can’t come tonight so, we’re gonna go eat dinner with Spencer.”

Eloise squealed and crawled off of her mom’s bed and ran out into her room.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

When Y/N arrived at the house— the fucking mansion— she sighed and looked back at Eloise.

“Oh my dosh, Spenther’s fwiend wives in a princess castle!” The girl shouted, clapping her hands.

Y/N laughed. “Yes, he does live in a princess castle.” She took her phone off of the gps thingy in her car and got out.

She walked around the front of the car and got Eloise out of her car seat. “You ready?” She asked, hiking the girl up on her hip, and holding her fist out.

“Ready fweddy.” Eloise nodded and bumped her tiny fist on Y/N’s.

Y/N nodded and began to walk up the stone driveway. She got to the door, feeling her heart hammer in her chest. “Oh god, I can’t do this.” She whispered.

“Yeth you can mommy.” Eloise smiled and touched her mother’s cheek.

She kissed Eloise’s forehead and quickly pressed the doorbell. They heard the sound outside before hearing Spencer’s voice.

“That’s Y/N!” He said, trying to be quiet. “Don’t ask too many questions— Derek why are you sm- stop smirking.”

Y/N took a deep breath in and the door swung open. Spencer’s smile widened when he saw Eloise in her arms.

The woman shook her head. “I’m really sorry, my sitter canceled and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to find one on short notice and I’m really—“

“Y/N, Y/N.” Spencer stopped her. “It’s okay! I was hoping you’d bring Eloise anyway.” He said, looking at the kid. “I missed my girl anyways.” He smiled and Eloise held her arms out.

Y/N let Spencer take her out of her arms. “Are you sure this is okay? Do I look okay? Is my makeup-“

Spencer leaned forward to kiss her shortly. “Everything is fine.” He nodded.

Y/N nodded and smiled up at him nervously, following him as he moved back inside the house.

She walked behind him and heard a quiet gasp as they entered the dining room. “Oh my God, is that a child!?”

Y/N bit her lip and stood next to Spencer, smiling nervously and looking around at everyone. “Uh, guys this is Y/N.” He said nodding down at her. “And this is Eloise,” He noticed how Y/N stiffened under the team’s stares. He cleared his throat.

A blonde dressed in bright purple stood up and made her way towards them. “Oh my goodness!” She pulled Y/N into a hug causing a surprised noise to leave the woman’s mouth. “It’s so nice to meet you!” She pulled away and looked at the girl in Spencer’s arms. “And you too! Oh my gosh you’re adorable.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” Y/N spoke.

“I’m Penelope!”

Eloise became shy and she waved, leaning into Spencer’s neck. Y/N giggled and said hi.

Then, everyone else walked up to them and introduced themselves to her and Eloise.

Derek and Savannah, David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, JJ and Will and Aaron Hotchner all greeted her with a smile and a handshake— JJ hugged her.

When the blonde woman met Eloise, she glanced up at Spencer with wide eyes. “I’m JJ.” She told the girl.

“Hi JJ.” Eloise greeted quietly.

Y/N smiled and Eloise looked at her with wide eyes. “What’s wrong baby?” The girl waved her over and she walked over, leaning closer to her. Eloise whispered something in her mom’s ear.

A moment later, she pulled away from her and looked at Rossi. “I’m sorry, can we go use your bathroom?”

The man nodded. “Of course.” He smiled. “It’s right down that hallway to the left.”

“Thank you.” She nodded, taking Eloise from Spencer and nodding at him before walking to the bathroom.

The team waited until her heels stopped clicking and the bathroom door shut.

Derek scoffed. “So how exactly did you win her over?” He asked with a chuckle. Savannah slapped his arm.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “We met at this coffee shop near her apartment—“

JJ smiled. “What, like five years ago? I mean, that kid is huge!” She exclaimed in a hushed whisper.

He shook his head. “No Um… I met her six months ago. Eloise is Um… she’s not mine.” He hated saying because even though technically it was true, anything a father would do for his daughter, he’d do for Eloise.

“She’s adorable, Reid.” Emily spoke. “Oh, the kid is too.” She jokingly shrugged.

Spencer smiled and rolled his eyes. “She’s really nervous so can we please tone down the compliments.”

JJ’s eyes lit up. “Ooh! Maybe Eloise would like to play with Henry and Jack when dinner is cooking.” She pursed her lips. “They’re just in the back yard.”

Spencer shrugged. “We’ll have to ask her.” As if on cue, Y/N’s heels began clicking again and Eloise was saying things.

They came around the corner and /N was holding Eloise’s hand as they walked. She let go of her mother’s hand and ran up to Rossi, pulling on his pant leg. “Scuse me, mithter. Do you wive in a princess castle?”

The team laughed and Rossi bent down a bit. “I do live in a princess castle.” He nodded.

Spencer chuckled and leaned over to Y/N as the two of them went into a deep conversation about Eloise’s favorite princesses.

“Is it okay if she goes outside and plays with JJ and Hotch’s boys?” He asked.

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, of course. But you didn’t need to ask my permission.” She told him quietly. “I trust you, okay?”

Spencer nodded and kissed the side of her head before getting Eloise’s attention. “Hey, Eloisey do you wanna go play outside and meet some new friends?”

The girl nodded shyly and Spencer held out his hands. Eloise grabbed onto both and hopped onto his feet. Y/N laughed as he began to waddle towards the sliding doors behind the dining room table.

JJ went out before him so she could rally up the other kids. “Hey guys?” She called. Y/N followed behind Spencer and Eloise.

The boys stopped throwing the ball around and came running towards JJ. “Is dinner done yet, mommy?” Henry asked.

JJ chuckled. “Not yet honey. I wanted you and Jack to meet Spencer’s friends Y/N and Eloise.”

They looked up at the woman and then at the girl who held a small smile. “I’m Eloise.” She nodded. “You wike pwaying superhewoes?” She asked.

Jack nodded rapidly and Henry gasped. “We love playing superheroes.”

Eloise hopped off of Spencer’s feet. “Otay. I’m donna be the good one. You duys be da bad ones.”

She ran further into the yard and Y/N laughed, covering her mouth as they ran after her. “She’s gonna sleep gooood tonight.” She nodded with a smile.

Rossi tapped her on the shoulder and she turned around. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Ooh.” She smiled. “What do you have?” She asked.

Rossi chuckled. “A whole damn cellar, sweetheart.”

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Emily, Penelope, JJ, Savannah and Y/N all stood around the kitchen island with their glasses of wine. The guys sat around in the backyard watching the kids play. “So…” Emily smirked. “How’s the sex?”

Y/N almost choked on her wine and took the glass away from her mouth, wiping her noir with a napkin. She giggled and kissed her teeth. JJ slapped Emily’s arm. “What? It’s a real question.” She shrugged.

The woman inhaled. “It’s fuckin’ mind blowing. He like a vagina wizard or something.” She laughed. The rest of the girls laughed as well.

They were consumed in conversation when the oven dinged. Y/N raised her hand. “I’ll go get the guys.” She told them.

She set her glass down and walked out of the kitchen and towards the sliding doors. The guy’s chairs were faced away from the door and she slowly open it. Before she called for them, she paused when she caught the end of their conversation.

“I think she was sent by God. She’s perfect.” Spencer’s voice was quiet but she smiled hearing every word. “A-and Eloise is the cherry on top. I didn’t know that I wanted kids until I met her. She’s the best. And she’s just like her mother.”

Y/N teared up and bit her lip as the guys all ‘awed’ and patted him on the back. “And I’m gonna marry her. I don’t know when but it’s going to happen.”

Her grin widened and she cleared her throat. “Um, I think dinner is ready.” She said quietly. They all turned back, not think that she had heard their entire conversation.

Rossi popped out of his chair and clapped. “Great! You’re gonna love my lasagna.” He nodded.

“Lasagna?” She repeated, glancing at her cute but very messy girl.

Rossi chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry. I made the kids chicken nuggets and fries.”

Y/N sighed in relief and laughed. She saw Eloise running up to her and she bent down. The girl ran and jumped into her arms. “Mommy, can Jack and Henry come over tomorrow!?” She asked.

Y/n spun her around. “We’ll have to ask their parents but it’s okay with me! Come on let’s go eat!”

Spencer smiled as he watched Y/N wiggle her around as they went inside.

He got so lucky.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

After dinner, the kids were watching a Disney movie in Rossi’s home theater and the adults were all standing around the kitchen island talking.

Spencer grabbed Y/N’s hand and she leaned over to him. “I love you.” She spoke quietly. “And thank you for being with me and Eloise.”

He kissed her cheek, knowing that the others were too immersed in conversation with each other. “I will always be with you.”

Y/N giggled. “And the girls might tease you at work for a little while.”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows with a smile. “Why?” He asked, rubbing his hand over her lower back.

“I may or may not have called you a vagina wizard.”

———————————————————————-

HAHAHAHAHAHH

I love this so much and I love that Y/N and Eloisey met the teammmmm!

The next chapter has some angst and it’s gonna be about Eloise’s 4th birthday! So excited!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter

Love ya bunches ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @mrsgweasley @tuesdayyellowxx @blue-willows @monzarella @winkev1

@criminallymagic

@mermateyepmatewithte

@lipstixstain

@urlovelydarling

@dreatine

@f-me-reid

@fantastic-fans

@aleyda5

@thatsonezesty13

@creativeuser101

@d0ntfeedaftermidnight

@jacksonms31

@scorpiofangirl1109

@perseuswaves

@baseballmama35

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@s-udaku-my-love

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@lavenderrway

#spencer reid #spencer fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x original female character #criminal minds #spencer x oc #spencer x reader

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gayerthanevertbh · 2 years

Text

labyrinth: 2

pairings: older!natasha x young!reader

warnings: g!p natasha romanoff, loss of virginity (r receiving), rough sex, dirty talking, praising, daddy kink, and natasha being an asshole ( a lil’ bit) - MINORS DNI.

summary: your sister cheated on her wife, so the broken wife takes an interest in you instead. was everything just a rebound between the two of you? or is there something more?

notes: yes! it’s now a series, but there are no promises that i will be updating all the time. i could try at least. anyway, enjoy!

navigation | series masterlist | series taglist

As expected, Natasha kissed my mouth hungrily while touching my buttocks with her rough hands. It was an early morning on a Saturday; mostly, everyone was still asleep. I was back in Natasha’s house because she wanted to do something “private,” and I knew where it would lead – sex. Of course, she would like to have sex with me; she kept mentioning it whenever we exchanged text messages. There mainly were “Can’t wait to see you” or “What if I put my dick inside of you, what would you do?” which turned me on in the slightest.

She pulled away, growling under her breath. “Lay down just like this baby, relax.”

I nodded and followed her instructions by laying my head on the softest pillows I’d ever laid on while I watched her pull down her shorts and reveal her un-erected cock. She shudders as the cool air hits the tip of her dick, opening her mouth slightly.

“What do you want me to do with it?” I asked her, regaining consciousness from the hazing of our kissing.

“Can I fuck you?” asked Natasha with certainty mixed with lust. “Please, I’ll be good with your body. You know I’ll never hurt you, baby girl.”

What scares me is that – I don’t know how sex works. Usually, I’d see a couple of pornographic videos online and think: “Oh, it’s that easy!” when it’s not. I overthought this last night since it was bound to happen anyway, thinking: what if I bleed? What if she hurts me? But knowing Natasha for nearly a decade, I doubt she could hurt me. Right?

“Are we going to use protection?” I asked, my breath uneasy. “I mean, we do have to, right?”

“It’s not necessary,” she said. “But if you want, we could. I might cum fast once I’m inside of you.”

My cunt clenches with her words, and I simply can’t help but let out a tiny moan – making her moan as well. She kisses my jaw sloppily while removing my shorts with one swift, throwing them across the room. I was now only wearing my white shirt and pink panties, which I wore on purpose. I once caught Natasha jerking off in her room while holding a magazine; it was a girl wearing pink lingerie with cream-colored skin, which made my legs twitch when she came all over the silk paper. It’s almost as if I’m reminiscing about it – since it was the first time I’d seen her being that intimate with an object.

“You like this, don’t you?” she taunts, wrapping her hand around her penis as she moves it up and down. “You like being my little girl, hm sweetheart? So fucking pretty for me, you’re so little…”

The rasp of her voice makes me feel like I’m in oblivion.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, she pulled down my underwear – revealing my shaved cunt. “Look at you,” she whispers in a whine, kissing my chest sloppily. “You’re so beautiful, doll. My beautiful little angel.”

The way she uses her words calms me down and boosts my confidence in a great matter. She was big on terms, she liked to use them most of the time for me to feel good, and she used them very well.

Natasha pushed my thighs to my chest and leaned closer to my cunt, inhaling its scent. She sighed blissfully and kissed the top of my clit. Whispering, “You smell amazing. I can’t wait to fuck you so hard.”

The woman laps on my folds vigorously as if a starved woman has not eaten for days. My whines filled her room as my fingers began to thread through her red locks, not knowing whether I should grip her hair. She moans on my wet folds that send vibrations through my skin, making me more soaked.

“Taste so fucking good,” she grumbles. “Stay still, baby. Daddy just wants to get some dessert from her baby.”

Daddy, I thought to myself while I closed my eyes. She’s my Daddy. Perhaps I have a kink regarding names, and I seemed to enjoy her name, “Daddy.”

“Call me Daddy, sweetheart,” whined Natasha while spitting more saliva on my gaping cunt. “Wanna push my cock in so bad inside your little pussy...”

“Daddy,” I whined as I arched my hips. “Don’t talk like that…”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, lifting herself to kiss my lips. “You’re my cute little virgin, aren’t you? You’re scared because you don’t know what your sister’s wife will do to you, huh? Come on, tell me, baby.”

It’s quite adventurous to do such things like this, let alone a woman almost two decades older than you, asking you to be her little slut even though it was never said verbally. I watch her hand move up and down again on her cock; hearing slushing sounds.

“You did this to me, you know?” she said, letting out a cracked moan. “You make me so fucking hard every time you’re near me. Did you know that?” I certainly didn’t. “Remember when you were alone with me a few months ago? All I wanted to do was to open your mouth and fuck it–Mmph–make you gag all over my fat cock.”

“Tasha, t-too much…”

“Too much what?” Natasha tells me with breathless whispers as she parts my legs to press her penis against my cunt; we both moan in unison. “Oh, fuck! God, you feel so good. You’re so fucking wet, baby girl…” I Lifted my head and kissed her, and she gladly kissed me back with a resounding whimper under her breath. She glides the tip of her cock on my wet, slowly making me scream.

She watches intensely over our genitals moving together, especially when her bulbous head hits my clit repeatedly, making her hips twitch with how good it feels.

“Beg for me to push in, baby,” said Natasha with her eyes glued on my cunt as she slapped the tip of her cock twice. I whined in reply and asked with a pleading voice: “P-push in, Daddy… please push it in.”

“With no lube?”

“Do we need one?”

She chuckles deeply. “No, sweetheart. I can just use your saliva or mine.” before I could lift myself, Natasha spat on her cock and lathered the thick substance all over her length. She spat at my cunt and spread her saliva using her dick, moaning each time her tip accidentally bumps inside me.

“Is it going to hurt?” I asked with a frightened face, but I suddenly calmed down when Natasha open-mouthed kissed my nipple, almost as if munching on it – I let out a loud hiss.

“A little,” whispered Natasha while cooing my head with her hand. “It’s going to be okay; I’ll make it fit.”

Giving one last reassuring kiss, she spread my folds open and slowly pushed her length inside me, both moaning loudly. The contraction of my walls all over her cock felt irritating at first – I almost wanted to cry from the excruciating pain. But I gripped her back with my hands as I took more length.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking tight, doll,” she gasped and looked down at her cock slowly going inside me. “That’s it. Grip me tight, baby. Going to make Daddy ruin you.”

“It’s burning, Daddy,” I yelled with a pitchy voice, trying to move my legs away, but she kept them still with her broad hands while grunting above me. “D-Daddy, it hurts!”

“Baby girl, it’s okay…” said Natasha with a shush, kissing and nipping my lips as she groped my left breast tightly, using her thumb to press hard on my nipple. “M’not going to hurt you, okay? Shh, want me to pull out? You just feel so good.”

I didn’t want her to pull out.

“It’s okay,” I breathed out, rolling my eyes at the back of my head when I felt her cock pushing deeper inside me; she groaned in a deep voice. “K-Keep going, Daddy.”

“Yeah?” she huffed out, kissing the pulse point of my neck with a whine cracking in her voice.

“Yes, keep going–Oh, that’s… Oh!” I felt her bottoming out, watching with widened eyes when we were connected. She mounds my breasts with her rough hands, her chest heaving with pure hunger. I could feel her tiny pubic hair on mine, which initially felt itchy.

“Take my fat cock inside that little pussy of yours, slut,” she growls, almost in a stern voice. She wrapped her hand around my throat and pulled out slowly before pushing me at a rougher pace – making me scream out of pleasure. “You like this, don’t you? You like my cock inside of you?”

She was rough with me and her voice – if I admit that I loved every bit of it sinfully, I did.

“I love it so much,” I whined, grinding my hips against hers as I felt the tip of her penis hitting the spot inside me, a particular area in me. “I love your cock, Daddy–Ah!–go faster. Please, please, please!”

The bed was starting to creak with her fast movement to the point that she was jackhammering her cock inside me, not caring if anyone would hear us outside her house. Natasha kisses my neck again but this time carelessly, as she rolls my hips against hers with her hands. It’s like I could feel her saliva and her cock on every part of my skin.

“Please be my little slut,” she pleaded, grunting each time our skin slapped together like a beautiful melody. “Be my faithful slut; I promise I’ll take care of you–just be my toy, be my little girl…”

“Aren’t I your little girl?” my voice was starting to dry as I saw stars everywhere. Natasha moaned blissfully and rested her face on my chest, humping me with her cock inside my cunt.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, kissing my jaw while holding my wrists down both sides of my head. “Tell me how much you love my big cock.”

“I love your big cock, Daddy…”

She thrusts into me harder, feeling herself getting close as I clench around her veiny length tightly. “Your virgin hole is my favorite thing about you,” Natasha’s eyes roll to the back of her head, and she sucks on my right nipple hungrily. “You’re my favorite girl, my favorite personal slut.”

“M’feeling tingly, Daddy,” I said, almost losing my voice. She still pounds into me, grunting each time her cock is coated by my juice. “Daddy, please slow down…”

“I’m going to cum,” she whispers with a pitchy grunt, kissing my mouth hard while I could feel her spit on my tongue. I was about to ask her if she could pull out when she suddenly did it before I could say it. “Gonna cum on this fucking pussy of yours, gonna fucking cum…”

I watch her as she jerks herself off, creating a fapping noise all over the room while her eyes are hooded and sleepy, as if tired. But she grabs me by the neck and forces me to look at her while she finishes, whispering: “Tell me you’re my personal slut.”

“I-I’m your personal slut, Daddy.”

“Tell me that–” her breath hitches as she watches herself pumping her cock at a fast pace. “–Tell me that you want me, tell me…”

Does she not know how much I want her? How much I’ve wanted for this to happen between us? Does she not know the times when I hump my own teddy bear just because of her? Does she? It saddens my heart; my skin feels tingly as I think about it.

And yet, I said it out loud.

“I want you, Daddy.”

“Y-You do?” it sounds like she didn’t have many sexual encounters when it came from my sister or at least some love from her.

She presses her forehead against mine as she grunts loudly for one last time, finally exploding in my stomach. I can feel her warm thick substance on my skin as she came undone blissfully – at least three times. If I wish for something, I want to reach inside of me. But I know I wasn’t ready for that to happen; I don’t think none of my siblings taught me how to use protection or at least a pill that would prevent me from getting pregnant.

“Oh fuck,” she moans lewdly while spurting more thick cum on my stomach, chuckling breathlessly as her milk covers my stomach. “You look so well covered in my cum.” I knew she was talking in a filthy way, but my cunt clenched from her words. She squeezed her tip and rubbed her head over my stomach while pecking my forehead, still hazing from her orgasm.

Once she was done with her orgasm, we both laid back down on her bed but at a distance. I turned over and decided not to look at her, as my heart would be sore if I did. I don’t understand this feeling whatsoever, but it’s excruciating, for that matter.

“Did you feel good?” asked Natasha with a not-so-sure voice; I could hear her panting still. I nodded.

“Are you sure? Was your first time good with me?”

“Yes,” that was, in fact, not a lie. But I expected more than just sex and action – there was no love between us, nor I also think an intimacy between us. “T-Thank you for taking it, Tasha.”

Natasha smiled wholeheartedly and whispered, “You’re welcome.” I was about to turn around when I felt the bed move, realizing she would shower and forget what had happened between us. But before my assumptions and thoughts consumed me, I heard her say:

“I want to have sex with you again tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“S-Sure,” I replied, sitting up quickly on the bed to look at her. But I was faced by her back – her muscular back. “What time?”

“Probably around dinner, if you like?”

“I have to ask mom then if I could overstay with you.”

She chuckles, turning around to face me. “Why? Does she not trust a pervert like me?” we both chuckled at her question and died immediately when her eyes were staring at mine, gazing, perhaps – as if admiring me.

“I’m sure she does,” I said, scratching my arm. “Are we going to use… condoms tomorrow?”

“Do you want to? I can go to the store later and buy a box.”

“I just want to be safe,” I want you to cum inside of me. “I mean, you never know…”

She walks closer to me and kneels on the bed, cupping the right side of my face as she whispers hotly against my ear, “Why, you don’t want me to get you pregnant?”

I can feel my face flushed. “I, um–” she gently gropes my right breast and kisses my bottom lip chastely. “Tasha, wait for a second–”

“I won’t get you pregnant,” she smiles. “We can use protection then.” she leaves the bed and closes the door, making my heart feel a little heavy for some reason that I cannot sort out. Was I saddened that there was no aftercare? No love between us? And maybe if there was, would she look at me the way I look at her?

Natasha was in love with Wanda; she was still in love with her.

So, where do I fit in as her lover?

“How are you doing now, Natasha?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs, padding her cigarette against the ashtray with annoyance. “I just–I don’t know.”

Nora looked at her intensely, wanting to know more about what was happening. But she wasn’t getting any answers, so she asked again: “What’s wrong, Nat?”

Natasha doesn’t know if she should say it or if she could say it aloud in the air, where everyone hears her confession. When Y/n slept with her (or at least they had sex), she felt this strange feeling inside of her that it’s almost inexplicable. She could still taste her mouth, her skin, her breath. The older woman could feel her everywhere, almost immensely – it was getting too hard for her to breathe.

I shouldn’t have had sex with her.

“I had sex with Wanda’s sister.”

Nora looked shocked. She gulped audibly and stuttered, “W-What?”

“I slept,” she emphasizes, taking a deep breath. “With Y/n. I slept with her goddamn sister–it shouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t right.”

“When did this happen?”

“Yesterday.”

Nora asked again, “Where?”

“In my fucking house!” Natasha’s anger seeps out of her as she jumps off the couch, scratching the back of her head irritatingly. “I just–I don’t fucking know, okay? It just happened. The sex was great, too great! Hell, she was good with it too. It felt good for her, Nora. For the first time in a year, I felt like I was being fucked and appreciated for once.”

“So you used her for sex,” Nora said in a deadpanned voice, lifting her knee on the couch. But Natasha shakes her head again, grunting as she thinks about what happened yesterday with Y/n. “Natasha, I don’t think that it was a good idea that you slept with her. You are still married to Wanda.”

“I know that,” she said with a defeated voice, flopping herself back on the couch. “Fuck, I knew that. But for some fucking reason, it just happened. At first, I felt awful about it, but… it felt natural.”

“But still, you shouldn’t have let it happen!” Nora finally raised her voice, suddenly feeling annoyed by the woman’s presence. “Look, if you want to get this divorce done as fast as you want, you can’t be sleeping with her. That’s her sister. Do you know how much chaos you’ll bring?”

“I knew I would,” she said disappointingly, burying her face with both hands. “I don’t know, Nora. I will try.”

“Not try,” she shakes her head. “You have to stop sleeping with her.”

It’s never going to be easy, Natasha thought. She felt different, so different.

“I will, Nora.”

“Good, now please call your lawyer. We have a lot of work to do.”

how do we feel about this?

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha angst #natasha romanoff smut #black widow x reader #black widow x you #labyrinth series

1K notes · View notes

juneknight · 1 year

Text

One and One and One

Kink: cuckolding

Layla/f!reader/Marc

Features: cuckolding, cumming untouched, strap-ons, oral sex, mentions of safewords.

“Can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Marc murmurs beneath his breath as you cuff his hands behind his back to the slats of the chair. One of his ankles are cuffed to the chair legs—though why he and Layla only have one cuff, you have no idea. This is the closest you’ve ever been to Marc. Close enough that you can see his every eyelash, the different dark hues in his irises, the little indentation in the tip of his nose. As close as you are, you know that he is scrutinizing you as well, dark eyes sweeping over the plains of your face. You wonder if he can feel the heat being thrown off by your cheeks.

“I didn’t talk you into this,” you remind him shyly. “Layla did.”

Marc’s mouth—full and pink and so fucking soft looking—quirks upward at the edges. “I can’t believe you let her talk you into this.”

“Me either,” you admit dryly.

You can’t, really. You and Layla had been friends for so many years—and yes there had been a few nights when you were younger that you had explored each other physically and romantically, but it had been so long. When she came to you and admitted Marc had this fantasy, and that her only caveat was that you be their partner. Did she know about your (harmless!) little crush on Marc? Surely she knew about your (even more harmless!) crush on her.

Regardless, if Layla’s stories were anything to go by, she and Marc got up to some very kinky stuff.

Have you ride Layla while Marc watched might take the cake, though.

“Getting friendly?” Layla asks when she comes in, wearing only one of her satin-silky robes, the hem of which brushes just above her knees. You can see her hard nipples through the fabric. Layla loves having her breasts stimulated—suckled, nibbled, fondled. Maybe she’ll let you do more than just ride her strap-on before the night is over.

“I’m having second thoughts,” Marc says lowly, eyes flickering back and forth between the two of you. “Mostly thinking that I’m an idiot for agreeing to let myself be tied up when you’re both in the room having sex.”

“You know your safeword,” Layla says with a grin. She looks to you and mouths ‘Moon’. You nod to let her know you understand. Her smile only grows at your obedience. Turning to face you head-on, she lets her hands fall to your hips. She ducks her head and kisses you, and you are already moaning into her mouth. Layla kisses like she does everything in life: with honed practice, with passion. You hear the cuffs rattle as Marc fights against his bonds, and it only makes you realize how wet you are, how wet you have been all night, so eager for dinner to be over so that the three of you could begin this.

“Fuck,” Marc groans. “Untie me. Let me out.”

“No,” Layla says after parting from you reluctantly. You chase her mouth a little and she laughs at how desperate you are.

“Fucking—I mean it Layla!”

“He likes to be a little brat,” Layla whispers to you conspiratorially. Her hand comes up to cup your cheek. “But you—you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

You nod, feeling struck dumb by her.

“Let’s find you a nice big cock get fucked by, huh?” she says with a grin, her cheeks flushed warm and eyes glittering with mirth and mischief. She goes to the bed where the different dildos lay out like hor’dourves to be sampled. They are all of different length or girth or color, some textured, others smooth. Whispering just loud enough for Marc to hear, she asks: “Shall we choose one that’s bigger than his? So that we can feel what it’s like to really get fucked?”

“I’ll show you what it’s like,” Marc vows darkly.

“I wouldn’t know which to pick,” you admit. It’s not as if you’ve ever seen Marc’s cock.

“Hmm, my choice, then,” she says, tapping her chin. At last she settles on a monster—if she truly was trying to find one that was bigger than Marc’s and this was her last resort, then Marc must be pretty well hung. You can’t help but glance toward him, taking in the picture he makes. Dressed in only his jeans and the white t-shirt he had changed into after spilling soy sauce on his dress-shirt at dinner, his muscles bulge against his bonds as he tests them again and again. His eyes are unfathomably dark, his breaths fast and shallow.

His cock, hard and pressing at the denim confines. When his eyes meet yours, you feel liable to explode. You turn away quickly, just as Layle focuses on you. She undresses you with gentle, tender touches, pausing every now and then to stroke a new expanse of skin until you sigh with pleasure.

When she works the lacy little set of panties down your hips, she holds them up to Marc like a spoil of war, her expression smug.

“Be a good boy, or I’ll gag you with these,” she warns him. Marc opens his fucking mouth. Layla breathes an incredulous little laugh. “Oh, you want them anyway? Proactive. What a good little slut you make, baby.”

She goes to him and feeds the scrappy piece of lace into his mouth. Stepping aside, she rifles through the bedside drawer for a moment to find a ball with a bell inside. She presses it into his hand: a non-verbal safe word. His knuckles stand out as he grips the ball tightly, perhaps silently trying to show that he wouldn’t be dropping it—not for anything.

Layla comes back to you and kisses you until you’re dizzy. Her hands trace along you, relearning the plains of your body the way they did all those years ago when the two of you first explored each other and your sexualities. Her fingers are nimble when they find your nipples, plucking at them softly in a way that has you breaking from her mouth to gasp. Your head turns and you take in the sight of Marc: his hard cock an impressive bulge in his pants, your panties in his mouth, his eyes heavy-lidded and burning hot.

Then Layla’s hand slips down between your thighs and you nearly shout as two of her fingers swipe through your folds, finding your aching clit and smearing your own arousal against it. “Oh Marc,” says Layla, looking to him with a wide grin. “She is so, so wet.”

Marc makes a pathetic little sound. This bit of weakness is like blood in the water to the shark inside Layla. She slips away from you again, holding up her soaked fingers for him to inspect in the dim lighting. Then she smears them across his parted lips, knowing that he will be unable to taste you with your panties in his mouth. Marc’s eyes roll back; he is the picture of tortured ecstasy.

“Fuck, Layla,” you whine, rubbing your thighs together. “Come on, please…”

She slaps Marc’s chest softly. “See what you made me do? I’m neglecting our girl.”

You shiver at those words, at being called their girl. God, this is only meant to be a one-time thing, but you have known for so long that no time with Layla would ever be the last time. Flushed warm with her ownership, you drop down onto your knees and crawl to her, heart pounding at the way Marc groans at the sight. You sit on your heels and open your mouth, a silent invitation.

Layla’s fingers stroke your face softly. “I have two little sluts…you want to suck my cock, baby?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe, mouth open. She rests two fingers on your tongue and you suck softly.

“I’ll let you suck my dick—on one condition.”

“Anything,” you mumble around her fingers. She removes them and takes your chin in her hand, your own saliva smearing across your cheek as she tilts your eyes up to her.

“When you suck my cock, I want you to pretend it’s Marc’s.”

Marc’s groan is mirrored by your own. Your eyes flicker to him, your face burning hot. His eyes are wide and dark, tracing over the plains of your face. Beneath the lust, you can almost see the question: would you do this? If you did agree to do this—why? Marc has no idea that feelings that have started to grow inside you the day that Layla introduced you both.

You didn’t know that Layla had any idea either. But when your eyes flicker back up to her, you see the warmth in them, the silent assurance. She wants you to do this. Almost as badly as you do.

Instead of turning away, you press out your tongue. The perfect place for her to rest the head of her fake cock. Your eyes flutter shut as you try to imagine it the way she says, to imagine that this is Marc’s cock you’re sucking. Instead of plastic, there would be warm, soft skin. Velvet overlaying steel. His smell would be all around you, that earthy shower gel he uses (and you use, sometimes, when you stay the night. Just to smell like him).

Marc would feed his cock past your lips til the fat head nudges against the back of your mouth at the entrance of your throat, and still you would want more, swallowing your drool tilting your head to hopefully be able to take more of him into your mouth. Fingers twine into your hair, and it only enhances your fantasy when they guide you up and down their cock, using your mouth for their own pleasure. That is how Marc would be; you’re sure of it: confident, entitled, even as he is gentle.

A choked sound catches your attention, jolting you from this little fantasy. Layla pulls your head back by your hair, and both of you turn to look at Marc whose head is thrown back, arms straining at his bonds. A growing stain at the tented crotch of his jeans…

“Oh my god, baby, did you just cum? Did you just fucking cum?” Layla asks, voice growing higher with barely restrained glee. Her thumb swipes over your swollen lips, but you can’t even turn to look at her, not when Marc’s face is red, his chest heaving, his cock still twitching in his pants as he just watched Layla fuck your mouth.

Marc groans, writhing more. His demand is clear. He wants out.

Layla turns your head up so that you meet her eyes again. They are warm, pupils huge with arousal and the dim lighting. She grins, pretty mouth stretching wide with joy.

“He wants me to set him free—but we’re not finished yet, are we love?”

You shake your head. No, the night is just beginning—even for Marc.

#marc spector x reader #marc spector x layla el faouly #marc spector x layla el faouly x reader

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lihhelsing · 1 year

Text

I've got no plans for the weekend (so should we speak then?)

CW: alcohol abuse, mention of cheating (not steddie)

Steve is sad.

Robin always tells him he shouldn't drink when he's sad, but still, he downs the shot in one go and goes straight for the next.

Maybe if he keeps the alcohol coming he'll be able to block his thoughts, somehow.

When he finally starts to feel drunk, though, the thoughts are still there. It’s like he can’t possibly escape the memories flooding his mind and it makes him want to bash his head on the table.

He just wants to forget.

He wants to forget how happy he was feeling until the moment he caught his girlfriend kissing another guy. In his room, in his /bed/. Steve felt unwell.

He thought she was going to be upset. He thought she was going to try and defend herself and say 'this is not what it looks like' but she just watched him, a grin on her face as if she didn’t even care.

And Steve? He stood there for a second before leaving the room, leaving his house, hoping they wouldn’t be there when he got back.

He ended up in a shitty bar, drinking by himself and feeling completely void of any and all feelings.

Maybe that’s why it took him a long moment to realize this isn’t his typical bar. He thought it was a place Robin had taken him one time, but he was wrong. He was /clearly/ out of place, still wearing his polo and jeans, ready for date night.

But Steve's there and alcohol is alcohol and maybe that's exactly what he needs. Just a place to drown his feelings and pretend his life isn't a shit show. He's fine by himself. Knows Robin will eventually call because she always /knows/ when he's not feeling well.

That is, until the bartender slides him a pink drink with a little umbrella in it.

"It's from that guy over there," the bartender nods towards a corner where a group stands and one of the guys, the one with long curly hair and a black leather jacket, wiggles his fingers at him.

Steve feels his cheeks growing hot. The drink matches his polo shirt and that's the first time Steve realizes he's the /only/ person wearing pink at the bar. Everyone else is in black, leather, darker colors. He stands out like crazy.

But he's drunk and drunk Steve is not known for making the greatest choices, so he downs the drink and before he realizes it, he's walking toward the guys in the corner. They all snicker and whisper among themselves as they watch Steve approaching.

"You lost, princess?" The long-haired guy talks first. There's a mocking tone to his voice, but Steve knows the way his lips are curled. He's curious. Intrigued.

"No, I don't think I am," Steve replies and his voice sounds weird to him. There's a confidence he hasn't felt ever since he was in high school and people called him King.

Steve walks right into the guy's personal space. He's sitting on a high stool, legs spread apart as he sips a glass of bourbon. It's like time is standing still and everyone is waiting for something to happen.

"Thanks for the drink," Steve says. They aren't touching yet, but it's a matter of time. It's a matter of one of them reaching out.

"How about another one…?"

"Steve,"

"You can call me Eddie," he says, and motions for the bartender to make another. When Eddie moves his hand again, it is to rest it on Steve's hips.

Steve acts on instinct. He has never kissed a guy before, but he can't say he hasn't been interested. He can't say he hasn't wondered what it would feel like. His hands find Eddie's lapel and he grips at it. When the drink arrives, Steve notices there isn't anyone else around them.

Just him, Eddie, and his hands on his hips.

"What's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" Eddie asks. His thumb is drawing circles on Steve's waist, slowly dipping under his shirt and grazing on skin. Steve feels a shiver with just this small touch.

"Looking for you," he replies. It's not really what he means.

He had no idea he was looking for a guy like Eddie up until he lay his eyes on him. He knows now. He just wants someone that looks like they could ruin Steve's life. He wants someone that will make him feel something /else/. He wants to feel different.

"Lucky you found me, then," Eddie says, his smile growing more wolfish.

"Would you-" Steve starts but cuts himself short. He looks away from Eddie, but soon Eddie's fingers are on his chin, moving his face so they are staring at each other again.

"Tell me, princess. What is it that you want?"

Steve swallows and watches as Eddie's eyes follow his every movement.

"To get back at someone," he says before he loses his courage.

"And how would you do that?"

"By kissing someone else," Steve says. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him. "Kissing you."

"I see," Eddie's entire hand is under Steve's shirt right now. His fingers are warm but his rings are cold and the contrasting sensation is heavenly. "You want to use me, then?"

Steve's cheeks burn. "N-no, I… That's not what I-"

Eddie's laugh fills his ears and he feels his hands pulling him close. When Steve's hips meet Eddie's belly he notices he's half-hard already.

Eddie leans in closer, mouth next to his ear. "You can use me, princess. I don't mind."

There's a shiver that runs down Steve's spine. Eddie pulls back a little, their noses are almost touching now.

"I'm just not sure you will want to stop after only one kiss," Eddie says and fuck, Steve's not sure either.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #Eddie calls Steve princess #because it's true

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miss-owl-eyes · 2 years

Text

🗡Your Knight🗡

Stolas x fem!Stella’s sister || fluff & angst

Requested by a wattpad supporter!

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Talons clicking against the short stairs, your black-tipped tail feathers dusted the steps. Your hand lightly held onto the golden handrail as the warm colors beamed from beyond the stained glass doors. The ivory and leaves rustled quietly as the wind blew gently.

Stella had called you about a month or two ago inviting you over for a weekend. She talked of a grand party, extravagant dinner, spectacular treatment, and good ol' sisterly quality time. "I wanted you to see the parties I host with your own eyes! Stolas actually agreed to this one, so you just know the turnout will be great! I'm so sorry for not inviting you sooner, it's such a hassle to get him to agree to anything I want. Oh, Y/N, I promise you won't regret it!" You wouldn't regret it, but you weren't exactly the most excited to see someone.

Faint yelling can be heard from the inside, it sounded to be coming from a very unhappy woman. The irritated yelling became louder as a dark silhouette appeared in the glass. The doors flew open. "Oh my dear sister, I've been awaiting your arrival!" A pair of arms wearing black gloves wrapped around you in a warm embrace, the tips of sharp claws putting faint pressure on your shoulders. "Hello Stella! It's a pleasure as always!" You hug her back, happy to see your sister once again.

She smiled, a genuine one, something rare from her. After she married Stolas of the Goetia family, Stella had grown more and more bitter over the years. She was always a bit snappy, but it only increased as the years went by in her loveless marriage to Stolas. Prince Stolas. That owl-like demon prince with red eyes that you knew him all too well.

You knew those glowing crimson eyes from your childhood, the memories you cherished with someone you could confide in; someone you knew, an old friend, or maybe even the one that got away. The one you were meant to marry before your parents pulled the rug from under you and sent you spinning. It's all on the past now, you told yourself despite the wound still being sore all these years later. No matter how much you convinced yourself the wound healed, you knew seeing him now would rip it open once again.

Your sister released you and ushered you inside, closing the door behind you. "It's been too long! I have a whole itinerary planned for us, I want to spend as much time together as possible- I've even got Stolas to sleep on the couch so we could lay together! Ahh, just like when we were chicks." You smiled and feigned a laugh, pretending it was humorous she demoted her husband to the couch like a dog when it really just saddened you to see him treated so poorly. She put a hand on your shoulder, looking at you from under her long eyelashes, " I'm really glad you're here, sis. I've missed you." You smiled and grabbed her forearm gently, "I've missed you too."

Despite her anger and violent outbursts, Stella was always kind to you. She always stuck up for you when your brother picked on you, when mom was too hard on you, and she always let you play with her dolls. Maybe it was because you were twins, but Stella never let you get stepped on.

"Mum, is Aunt Y/N here yet?" A monotone voice echoed from above the stairs. "Octavia dearest!" You exclaim, arms out and ready to hug your niece. The stoic expression on her face changed to a child-like smile as she hurried down the staircase to hug you. "My, is this a new hat? I think you'd look amazing in a pink one!" She tucked a strand of hair back, "oh yeah, my dad said it suited me... do you like it?" "Like it? I love it!" You loved seeing Octavia. You wanted to shower her with love every time you saw her. You knew she came from a broken family and you wanted her to feel loved, to feel wanted, and even if she already felt that way, you wanted her to know she was loved.

You let go and smiled, "I'll let you get back to your music now. I know how much you like those bands." She smiled and brushed her hair back again, "Okay Auntie, I'll see you later!" You waved as she went back, Stella coming close to you once again. "She's 17 now, in her edgy-emo phase." She commented. "I remember when you had that same phase." You laughed in embarrassment. "Oh please, remember when I dyed a streak in my feathers? Mum was furious!" You two laughed at the memories. Despite having a rough childhood, you did have the good memories. Good memories...

Stella took a sip from her wine glass once again. Stumbling over her words, laughing with you and slinging her arm over you. "...and I told him, I said "You wouldn't know cyanide from absinthe if it weren't for me!" She cackles with her loud laughter. You laughed as well, but it was insincere. Stolas was a common butt of the joke with your sister, and as awful as you felt to laugh with her about him, you enjoyed seeing her happy. The hours flew by since you arrived. The laughing and storytelling took your attention more than the clock ever could. You almost forget about her husband if it weren't for her jokes and stories about him. "You know, he's been seeing someone behind my back..." your blood went cold. "Oh?" you ask, not knowing if you wanted to hear more or less. "Yeah, cheating prick." Definitely less. "With an IMP no less! Can you believe that?" No. You honestly couldn't. No wonder she hates him, he cheated on her. "I could care less about an affair, it's not like we loved each other anyway, but an imp? If word got out, it would ruin our entire image!" "I can't even imagine how you feel, Stella..." you place a hand on her shoulder, but feel anger knowing she doesn't care about him, only her status. "It's a problem, but he wouldn't dare to divorce me. He knows better." You nod, listening to her rant about him and his affair. It was never this apparent how loveless this marriage truly was.

You were only interrupted by a door shutting a voice that followed. "Stella, where in Hell have you put my-" your eyes meet. Two small, white pupils appear in his eyes, something that happens when he's surprised. You stare at each other for a moment before he continues. "Never mind, I'll find it myself. Pleasure to see you as always, Y/N." He finished and leaves the room. Stella laughs and makes a comment, but you're too distracted to even listen to her.

You sit on the couch, watching the tv quietly. You put Stella to sleep since she got a little too wine-drunk. The lights are off. Stolas is asleep in the guest room with your things. You sigh too yourself and watch the soap opera, reading it's subtitles. "Gabriella, I've told you, it's too late!" The tv reads. "But Alejandro, I love you!" "As do I Gabriella, but I must go." The female's love interest leaves as she sobs, and the episode fades to black before the next one starts. "I really hope they get together." You jump and twist your head around to see Stolas with a robe on, leaning on the couch. "How long have you been here?!" You exclaim. "Long enough to know Alejandro doesn't want to leave. Mind if I have a seat?" You nod as he steps over and sits down.

It's quiet. It's awkward. The tv illuminates the two of you as the two characters quarrel over their love life. It's tense. "So... how have you been?" He struggles to start a conversation. "Oh, here and there." You reply dryly. You want to talk more, you want to engage in a conversation like you used to, but he's married to your sister. He's a cheater. "I heard you like imps." You state in an attempt to distance yourself from him, to push him away. It seemed to work as he tenses, leaning back slightly. "Oh... She told you." "Yeah." You watch the show, not paying any attention. Not looking at him, but you know his expression. It's pained, tired, upset. He's tired, upset, pained. "It's complicated. Maybe it was childhood love that drew me to him, but it's so... difficult." He sighs out. Your eyebrows furrow. You two were childhood friends, why didn't he go to you? You were jealous, upset, you wanted to cry, but you wouldn't let yourself. "Gotta be strong," you told yourself. "I'm sorry to hear."

It's quiet once again. You're upset, he's upset, but both for different reasons. The tv makes it bearable. You don't look at him, not until there's a faint sniffle. "Are you crying?" You ask, voice sounding more judgmental than you wanted. "I know, I know, it's ridiculous. But, but I feel so-" "lonely." You finish it for him. He looks at you, "...yes." He replies faintly. "I'm so lonely here. I have a wife and daughter but I'm not happy. He doesn't love me, he's too busy with his business and work family, I don't think anyone loves me." You know he's choking back a sob. You aren't afraid to look at him now, his crimson eyes wet with tears. "I know it's useless to cry, but sometimes it helps." You take his hand, squeezing slightly. "It's not stupid to cry, Stolas." His eyes, his face, he looks so pathetic. You look into each other's eyes before pulling him into a hug. He stiffens, then loosens up and let's out a quiet sob on your shoulder. He shakes as he cries, and you wonder how long he's been holding this back. How long he's needed someone to listen to him, how many years. You stroke his back, comforting him in whatever way you can.

Time passed, and his sobs lighten. He says the occasional "I'm sorry" to which you always reply "it's alright. Let it out." He doesn't let go. He sniffles and deeply inhales periodically, usually a quieter sob follows. "Why are you being so nice to me?" He chokes out. Why are you being so nice? "I..." you can't think of a lie, only the truth, and you can't stop your mouth before it speaks on its own. "I care about you. I don't want you to be in pain and I want to take it all away." He pulls himself off your shoulder and looks at you, a faint smile on his damp face. "Do you remember when I read you stories as our fathers talked?" You weakly smile back. "Of course I do." You lean back, "We played and talked, and I told you I was scared of being a princess, and you said-" "I'll be your prince and protect you as your knight." Your eyes widen in pleasant surprise. "You remember..." he smiles back, "how could I not?" You look at him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He teaches towards you and pulls you gently into his chest. "Oh, it's alright Y/N, it's a happy memory!" He's trying to hard to cheer you up, you can tell. You can practically hear him smiling as he speaks. "No it isn't!" you exclaim into his chest, confusing him. "It's not nice when I still love you and you don't love me!" The tears trail down your face and cheeks, slowly wetting his chest. "Now who said that?" He asks. "You did! Because you love that Imp! He's strong, and he's accomplished, and I couldn't even marry you!" He strokes your head. "Y/N, that was a very complicated situation. You didn't fail even if you think you did, I promise," He pauses, "and I still love you too, I just didn't want to upset you or Stella!"

Your mind comes to a halt. "He loves me..?" You think. You look up at him with wide eyes, his expression is soft and comforting. His hand strokes your cheek, wiping your tears away. "I love you, Y/N." "I love you too, Stolas." The two of you smile at each other. His forehead rests on yours, the two of you laughing faintly with each other. "I'll be your knight, my love, and we're going to be happy together with our own life, I promise." He holds up a pinkie, like a child about to make the most serious kind of promise ever. You link your pinkies and shake, "it's a promise," you say. "A pinkie promise." He jokes. The two of you giggle together.

He hugs you once more, a soft, comforting hug. You know you're safe in his arms, it won't be last time you feel safe with him, and it certainly won't be the last hug.

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Fandom: Helluva Boss

Word Count: 2.1K

🔥Masterlist!🔥

#helluva boss #Stolas #stolas helluva boss #Stolas x reader #Stolas fanfic #helluva boss fanfiction #helluva boss fandom #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss stolas

828 notes · View notes

mrs-kodzuken · 8 months

Text

Sick with you ♡

Pairing: Aged up!Haijme Iwaizumi x fem!reader

WC: 2.1k

Genre: fluff

CW: fem!reader, sickness, becoming friends, slight attraction to iwaizumi, slight cussing, infertile!reader, teacher!reader, mentions of reader passing out, iwa taking care of reader, very slight implied infertile!iwaizumi, not proofread, very slight angst due to infertile talk

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I sniffled, the disgusting snot coming out of my nose hiding back into it. I was sick. Working with kids was the greatest thing I could have ever done but the unfortunate side of it is getting sick a lot. However, I wouldn’t give it up for anything.

I was so sick and I had all the symptoms like the sneezing, body aches, headache, and sore throat. I went to the doctor to see if it was something more serious because I literally feel like death and all she said was that it’s just a ‘common cold’.

A common cold my ass. I feel like I could die.

Staying in the comfort of my own home instead of getting any of the other teachers sick was hard. I wanted—needed—to know how my students were doing.

After having found out I was infertile when I was twenty years old crushed me. Hence why I became a teacher to surround myself around the hopeful children. They look up to me and I love them as if I’m their mom—school mom.

Maybe it’s a sadistic way to cope with my feelings but I don’t care. I went through hell after finding out that heartbreaking news.

The pounding in my skull brought me back to my sickened state. I groaned before grabbing the left side of my head in pain. I was out of headache medicine and my stomach was already growling for something to eat.

As much as I wanted to let my mom and dad take care of me, like they usually would do. I moved away. Finding out about my infertility was a blow to my heart and in the moment I was so broken that I couldn’t stay in the same place where I found it out.

Blinking away the thoughts of my pain, I focused on my bodily pain as I got up to throw on something. I decided on an oversized hoodie I thrifted and kept the nighttime shorts I had on, it was already dinner time anyways. As I turned around for my keys I could feel my body swaying until I grabbed onto the wall.

Damn. I need to hurry and lay back down.

Hurrying to the front door, I grabbed my wallet and slipped on my slides as a cough slid out of my throat.

The nearest convenience store was my best bet since it was only a short walk that I could manage. I wasn’t trying to collapse in the middle of the street.

The little ding I heard alerted me that I was inside the store and I tried to snap out of my small trance of disorientation. I immediately headed for the medical aisle, I need medicine as soon as possible.

After grabbing it, I almost neared the cashier until my stomach rumbled. I damn neared cried because of the pain and hunger I was feeling.

Trudging towards the soup aisle, I quickly saw the last can of chicken noodle soup and immediately went to grab it.

Unfortunately, I guess I wasn’t the only person who wanted some chicken noodle soup right then. I looked over, no matter how much it hurt my eyes to do so, and saw a tall guy. The tip of his nose was highlighted with the color red and there were visible dark eye bags underneath his dark colored eyes.

Our hands brushed as we both tried to grab the same can which happens to be the very last can. “Uhh..” Trailed out of my mouth without warning.

“Sorry,” He politely said towards me, retracting his hand from mine and the chicken noodle soup. He sure was a gentleman if he was just as sick as me and giving me the last can of chicken noodle soup.

“No, sorry, you can have it.” I said, I made a conclusion based on what he looked like. He was built, like built, his muscles showing through a black tee that he was wearing both triceps and abs. Someone who was this muscular had to be someone who was important enough to have those muscles. He gave me a strange look.

“You look worse than I do, I insist.” I’m pretty sure he meant it as I should take better care of myself but I couldn’t help but to take high offense to that.

I scoffed, “Yeah, thank you. Way to make a stranger feel shitty about her appearance.” I gripped the metal can off the shelf and made my way to the cashier, leaving the handsome but sick man behind me.

After I was done checking out, all of my energy was completely gone. It took everything out of me to even get to the store and just the short walk back was enough to make want to cry.

I opened the door to leave, the ding from it making me wince as it was disoriented in my head.

Suddenly, the area around me started to blur and the step I took made my body collapse. I couldn’t even care less about the pain that was headed my way when I hit the pavement of the outside of the convenience store.

But it didn’t come.

Warmth surround my torso as I was caught, it did very little to break me from my state. I could barely open my eyes to see the person—man, definitely a man from the way he feels—who caught me.

“Shit, are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?” A concerned voice sounded out, it happened to belong to the same man from earlier. However, the sound of his voice was muddled out weirdly. A sound of confusion came from my mouth as I tried to gain my bearings.

I mumbled my address then tried to grab my bag of needs that I bought to shuffle my way to my house.

That is, until black spots clouded my vision and I definitely fell to the ground as I blacked out.

The smell of delicious food awoke me. A huge shove came to my body when I fully gained consciousness. Everything hurts so bad. My throat was dry, my body hurt to the max, and I didn’t even get my soup from the store.

Wait, the last thing I remember was collapsing in front of the convenience store. How fucking embarrassing.

My blood went cold when I realized someone was in my house. Could it be the man from earlier? If so, why in the world is he cooking food in my kitchen?

I slowly got up, not wanting to pass out again in my own room, and headed for the kitchen.

My living room TV was on some sort of kids show I watched when I was younger. The lamps were on giving it a nice ambiance, not too much to hurt my head even more than it already did.

I turned the kitchen and saw the clothed muscular back of the man from the convenience store.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?” I tried to question him intently, however my efforts failed because it sounded scratchy and like I desperately needed water.

He turned around quickly, revealing a pot on the stove and the remnants of sliced vegetables on my cutting board.

“Hey, you’re awake. You fell in front of the store and I took you home but felt bad since I apparently said you look horrible. So, in return I patched you up and made a stew.” Even though I knew he was sick, he made me soup anyways because he felt bad. I would take it as an extremely kind gesture if the whole situation wasn’t weird.

I was about to speak again but realize what happened last time so I just nodded and headed to the sink for some water.

After having my fill and letting the cool water run down my parched throat I spoke, “You’re sick too. You didn’t have to go out of your way.” I furrowed my brows and pain hit my face.

“Oh my god, ow,” I exclaimed, my hand coming up to my eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t catch you in time, you fell again after the first time.” He looked over what I’m assuming were my bandaged cuts on my face.

“Oh, thank you…” I trailed off, not knowing is name or what to say besides thanking him.

“Haijme Iwaizumi.” He gave me a small smile then returned back to the stew that was brewing on the stove.

Even though the situation is way weird, it was kind of nice. I haven’t had a man over into my home in the longest. I don’t like one night stands and my long term boyfriend I had left me back when I found out I was infertile.

I watched as Iwaizumi poured the stew into one porcelain white bowl, adding a soup spoon into the bowl. He served the meal to me and just stood there.

Weird.

“Are you not going to eat..?” I asked him, maybe it was my loneliness of being alone for a while or something more but I didn’t want him to go.

“Are you sure? I made this for you, I can just take the chicken noodle soup and leave if you’d like.” He put the utensils into my sink and was about out to leave.

“Please stay. I insist.” I slightly begged, hearing the panic in my own voice. Man, being sick sure does mess with my head.

After a while of just spoons clacking against the bowls I decided I had enough.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I’m sure you’re a busy man, you didn’t have to do all of this for a stranger.” I thanked him, I didn’t know what else to do since I had just finished my strew. I felt more myself after I had it too.

“No worries. I have the day off from work. I’m also used to taking care of my friends.” He smiled a bit at me, making my heart thump.

I was a sucker for people like me, people who help others just because. Sometimes from their own unfortunate circumstances or sometimes from the joy of it.

“What do you do? If you don’t mind, I just, I want to know more I guess.” I shamelessly chuckled, uncontrollably moving around in my seat. I hope he didn’t think I was weird.

“I’m an athletic trainer. I coach the Japanese National Team.” My suspicions were correct. He was definitely important.

“Wow, that’s impressive. I’m just a plain old grade school teacher.” I embarrassingly laughed, my occupation wasn’t anything like his.

“If it counts, I think that that’s impressive.”

I looked up at him, his eyes staring back into mine. The moment was so silent but intimate to me. It felt warm.

“Really? I do it because it’s something that makes me happy. It fulfills a part of me that I won’t be able to have someday, you know?” I said, being completely honest for no reason at all. I was just happy that he thought my job was impressive, no one really does besides me.

“The same goes with me. The team are people I have known since college and high school so I always feel like I’m kind of a big brother or dad to them.” He lets out a laugh that embarrassingly makes my entire body warmer than the sickness.

“I like you as a person. You remind me of me.”

He looks up and smiles so deeply at me, kindness coating his eyes. “I like you too. Your home feels like a heavy reflection of you.”

Our heart to heart words between us felt like forever but didn’t really last that long. Much to my surprise, it was almost 11pm and Iwaizumi had to get home.

“Thank you for taking care of me, I’m in your debt.” I said, a smile gracing my lips.

“No problem, I’ll call if I need any favors.” He let out a chuckle which made my cheeks flush.

A thought of realization dawned upon me and I made a hasty decision within two seconds. “Wait, how about you stay over?” I slowly asked, “I might collapse again.” I hoped for a yes and my prayers were answered when he nodded.

“Thank you. I didn’t want to impose on you by asking.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

How boyish of him.

I told him about where everything was in my house and decided to take a quick shower and try to get some sleep to feel better.

“Come get me if you need anything Iwaizumi. I’ll be right down the hall.” I commented before shutting the guest bedroom and entering mine.

All I could think about when I shut my own bedroom door was that I hope he does come get me.

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a/n: I hope you guys enjoyed and let me know if you have any requests!

the header is made by me, please like/reblog if used <3

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