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luvyeni · 10 months

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❛BRUISES AND BALLET SHOES❜ ( l. jeno )

💬nia's notes: based on this drabble. is this late? absolutely but was hidden with all the other unfinished drafts.

p. badboy!jeno x goodgirl!reader w. 1.5k+

warnings? unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk , name calling.

— 𖦹 ( jeno gets into a fight and almost misses your preformance ) !

you peeked your head out the curtain — the reserved seat still empty as people began to fill up the stadium. you pouted , closing the curtains. 'where is he? he promised he'd make it'

"(name)?" your director tapped your shoulder. "you okay?" you nodded. "good , we need you ready , there are a lot of people here to see you." you smiled , shaking your head. "i'm alright." there were many people here to see you , but not the one you wanted.

"jesus you guys look like crap." renjun sat at the computer as the rest of them came limping back in. "yeah well we can't all stay behind the computer." haechan opened up the freezer , grabbing a frozen pack for his eye. "some of us have to fight."

normally jeno would've entertained them , but he looked at the clock and went into panic mode , he was gonna be so late. "shit." he hopped up , looking into the mirror. "what's your problem?" he ignored chenle , he had bigger problems — he had a black eye and multiple little cuts littered all over his face. "she's gonna kill me."

he grabbed his helmet , normally he didn't wear it , but he was going to see you and he knew you'd be upset if he didn't. "what are those?" haechan laughed , pointing to the pink glitter stickers scattered all over the helmet. 'so you'll know what one is yours.' he remembered your voice. "she put them on there , are you laughing at her?" mark jumped in before jeno beat haechan to pulp. "haechan stop it."

he really didn't have time anyway. "i'm leaving." he rushed out , he'll make it if he rushes , jumping on to his bike , putting his sparkly helmet on before speeding off.

"(name) , you have to go on now , the show is about to start." your director called , you sighed , nodding. "okay." you made your way to the side of the stage. "you can do this." you said to yourself. 'i just hope he's safe and not in any trouble.'

he made it just in time , handing the lady — who definitely thought he was in the wrong with all the bruises on his face the ticket. "thank you." he ran to the to concet hall , swinging the door open , just as the music started.

everyone gave you a standing ovation , you were incredible , so graceful. you took your final now , before making your way off the stage where everyone was waiting to give you hugs and congratulations. "thank you everyone." you said smiling.

"we're all gonna go out and celebrate." your director said , you really didn't want to , just wanting to go home and crawl into a ball. "honestly i just wa- baby." you turn around upon hearing his voice. "jeno!" you smiled , the first real one of the evening. "maybe next time , excuse me."

you ran over to him , running straight into his arms. "you made it!" he smiled as your eyes lit up. "of course i did you were amazing , you'd really think i'd miss your preformance?" you pouted. i thought you got caught up." you finally noticed his face. "you were out fighting again."

he frowned , "baby it's apart of the job." you touched his busted lip , he hissed in pain. "eh , i told you to be careful , let's get you home so i can fix you up." you grabbed his hand , guiding him to his bike. "put your helmet on." you said. "baby." he whined. "now , you don't need anymore bruises on your face."

"ow , baby that hurts." he hissed as you sat on his lap , applying the alcohol to his busted lip. "you should've thought about that when you were out fighting." you scolded. "you told me you'd calm down." he sighed. "i know princess , but you know it's not easy."

you finished him up , throwing the trash in the bed next to the bin. "renjun's girlfriend said he never comes home with bruises." jeno rolled his eyes. "that's because renjun sits behind a computer." he kissed your lips. "maybe you should do that then."

he laughed , kissing your pouty lips again. "i'll ask mark next time." you knew he wouldn't , he loves the thrill too much , but you decided not fight it. "now let me give you some love as a reward for a fantastic show." he kissed your neck , making sure to mark you up. "j-jeno , no marks , my director is gonna be pissed."

"good." he said , leaving a few more. "maybe he'll get the hint that you don't want to fuck him and that you're taken." he growled against your skin , your panties soaking , his jealousy was always a bit of a turn on.

he flipped your bodies around , hovering over yours. "you're getting jealous for nothing." he lifted the shirt you stole from him above your hips , revealing your pink panties. "such cute panties."

you whined , squirming around impatiently. "calm down." he stilled your hips. "so eager to have your little pussy stretched , i have go make sure you're ready for me." he said , pulling your panties down your leg. "look how wet you are."

he toyed with your clit , rubbing slow circles to annoy you. "j-jeno , please." you whined. "n-no teasing." he chuckled at how needy you could be. "okay baby , okay , i won't tease." he pushed a finger into your hole. "fu-fuck jeno."

he moved his finger , watching your cunt suck in his finger. "fuck princess , only one finger and you're barely taking it." you moaned. "a-another." you barley got out , he cooed. "you want another?" he added another , your juices soaking his hand. "so wet baby , you're making such a mess on my hands."

"j-jeno." you moaned out. "jeno , im gonna cum." he curled his fingers up. "fuck , im cumming!" you screamed out , he pulled his fingers out , bringing them to his lips , tasting your reminisce. "just as sweet princess."

he pulled his sweats down , his cock springing out , hitting his abdomen. "look at you drooling over my cock , you want it in your mouth?" you eagerly nodded , he chuckled. "maybe next time baby." he rubbed your folds with his hard cock. "i really need to split you open with my cock."

he slowly pushed his cock into your cunt , your hole clenching around his tip , squeezing him. "fu-fuck, no matter how many times i fuck you." he groaned. "you're always so fucking tight."

he finally bottom out , holding your legs around his waist , rocking into you. "s-so big." you moaned , jeno was on the bigger side , so it was always a tight fit when he was fucking you , but it felt good , the way he stretched your poor cunt out. "yeah , but you always take my cock like a good girl."

"f-faster." you stuttered , he listened , fucking into you faster , hitting your cervix. "j-jeno , fuck!" you screamed , he groaned , holding on to the headboard. "oh fuck , you feel so good , moaning my name like a slut." he growled.

"e-everyone thinks you're such a good girl -shit- they don't see it when you're screaming my name like a whore , letting me stretch your tiny cunt out on my cock." he moaned. "ngh fuck , gonna cum in this tight cunt." you felt it coming , your orgasm about to hit you like a ton of bricks. "gonna cum."

"you can cum princess , cum all over my cock , so i can breed you , fill you with my cum." he felt his orgasm , holding it , waiting for you to finish. "would you like that?" he grunted. "for me too breed you? make your stomach all round." you nodded dumbly. "p-please."

"fuck- then cum for me." on his comand , you came , tightening around so tight you almost pushed him out. "oh fuck , fuck im cumming." he grunted , his cum filling you up. "sh-shit jeno." you mewled. "t-too much." he kissed your lips. "you can take it , your a big girl." he whispered. "you can take it."

"fuck look at that." he slowly pulled out of , his cum leaking out. "your tummy all bulged because of my cunt." you whined. "such a good girl , taking all of me like that." he praised.

he helped you get cleaned up , he was really inattentive when it came to things like this , making sure to be softer , washing your skin with your favorite sent , putting a towel in the dryer so it can be warm for you when you get out , wrapping around you.

you laid in bad , tracing his tattoos as he play with your hair , your favorite movie playing on the tv , your laughter breaking him away from it. "what's so funny?" you shook your head. "nothing." you smiled. "it must be , you're so giggly princess , what is it?"

"it's just that , to everyone you look so scary , but in here you're like a little puppy." he whined. "stop that." you chuckled. "i already get made fun of because of those stickers you put on my helmet." he said and you pouted. "then take them off." he pulled you closer , kissing your forehead. "and why would i do that?"

"my favorite girl did that , im keeping them even when they fade."

©️LUVYENI

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jackactuallywrites · 4 months

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Purely Professional

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Medic Reader

Rating: Mature (nothing too explicit but dick is hinted at)

Warnings: Ghost has a boo boo 😔 (blood, facial injury - split cheek and bruising)

Summary: You are the only medic Ghost trusts to treat him. Also you guys are friends with benefits!

Notes: Yes I do always headcanon Ghost with a broken nose. It’s HOT. Also I’m cleaning out the drafts

Word Count: 1,712

ao3 link

“He’s here.”

You didn’t need to ask to know who the other medic was talking about, nodding thanks to the medic as she left, and you quickly finished up with the young woman you were patching up, “You can take ibuprofen as needed, no more than two pills at a time, and space out the dosage to every four hours.” You wrinkle your nose, “I mean, you know how to take ibuprofen, just basic over-the-counter stuff. But come back if there’s any problems.” She nods, “Thanks, Doc.” You weren’t sure how many times you’d specified the difference between a combat medic and a military doctor, but at this point, it wasn’t worth the air, so you just nodded, gesturing for her to take her leave, “Anytime.” She grabbed the pillbox and made her way out of the room, leaving you to clean up the empty wrappings, tossing them into the nearby bin. You tore off the paper that was covering the bed, binning it as well and then rolling out another cover, making sure everything was fresh and clean. When you were satisfied, you walked out of the room into the waiting room, your eyes immediately landing on the one man who didn’t need to be named.

Ghost.

The intensity of his gaze was intimidating, his dark eyes glowering from underneath the skull mask as though he wanted nothing more than to take down every single person who dared to breathe the same air as him. At this point, the other medics had learned that he wouldn’t accept their help, refusing to utter even a single word until you were free. You leaned against the frame of the door that led into the hallway, beckoning him with a jerk of your head. He rose from his seat, seeming to dwarf everyone else around him as he walked through the room toward you, brushing past you without a word and striding straight into the open examination room, the cold silence seeming to emanate off him like a tangible aura, visibly affecting those around him, the other medics shrinking away from him as he passed.

You followed him into the room, closing the door behind you, “So, what can I help you with today, Lieutenant?” He sat down on the bed in the room, resting one forearm on his thigh, gesturing with the other hand to his face, consistently a man of few words. You stepped closer to him, “You’re going to have to give me a little more than that.” He grunted, reaching up to take off his helmet, setting it on the bed beside him, and then unclipping the skull mask, revealing the balaclava underneath. Finally, he pulled off the balaclava, revealing his clipped blond hair, and then his face, bruised and bloody, his cheek split open, blood already dried to his skin. His eyes, thankfully untouched, the black paint surrounding them unmarred, were on you, boring into your face as he watched you.

You didn’t waste time, reaching out to probe his face, your fingers gently holding onto his chin as you turned his head from side to side, inspecting the damage. It looked worse than it was; facial injuries always bled more, and though he tensed when you gently pressed his cheek, there was no sign of anything broken. After taking a moment just to be sure, you drew back from him, walking to the medical cupboard and taking out an antiseptic wipe, talking as you did, “You won’t need stitches.” He grunted, and you took this as permission to begin wiping the blood away from his face.

“So,” you began, always one to make idle chitchat as you worked, “who did you piss off this time?” Ghost watched you, his face solemn, searching your eyes before he responded, his voice barely more than a whisper, “Couple guys.” You smiled as you brushed the wipe over his split skin, “You know if you want to see me, you only have to ask.”

All the tension in his face seemed to ease then, his eyes softening as he looked up at you, “I know.” You took this as permission, gently nudging his legs open so you could stand in between them, closing the distance between you, allowing him to reach out in his own time, and after a brief moment, he did, his hands reaching out to gently rest on your hips, his fingers hesitant, still unused to the intimacy you shared. You cleaned up the rest of the blood on his cheek, giving him time to get used to your close proximity as you brought out a small plaster to cover his wound. In a moment of impulsivity, you pressed a gentle kiss to his damaged cheek, your reward his sharp intake of breath and the tightening of his fingers on your hips, pulling you closer toward him.

“You know,” you began, letting your hands rest on his shoulders, “the other medics are going to think you’re sweet on me.” Ghost let his face rest in the crook of your neck, his voice low, muffled by your shoulder, “I’m not sweet.” You smiled, letting your fingers trace over from his shoulders to the back of his neck, “No? What would you call this?” “Desperate.”

There was no mistaking the longing in his voice, the yearning, the way his fingers pulled you closer to him until your body was pressed against his. Already, his fingers were pulling at your shirt, just like he’d done so many times before, secretive fumbles in whatever vehicle or armoury was nearest, all beginning with some injury he only allowed you to treat, all ending with you wrapped up in his arms. You smiled, shifting one hand to stop his fingers on their insistent path underneath your shirt, “I think they’ll notice if I spend forty minutes in here with you.” Ghost didn’t seem entirely put off by the idea, his face tilting up as his lips began to move over your neck, gently nipping at the skin, his voice husky, “You love this being our dirty little secret, don’t you?”

It was impossible for you to lie to him; after all, he was special forces; no doubt he could sniff out every last secret of yours if he truly wanted to. His hand was already moving from your hip up to your cheek, forcing you to look at him as he pulled away from your neck, his pale eyes searching yours, “Admit it.” Every part of you seemed desperate to touch and be touched by him, and you held back a groan, “Yes. Which is why we can’t do anything in here.” His lips quirked in a smirk, “We wouldn’t want them to think you give this treatment to everyone.” You smiled, “I am supposed to be a professional, after all.” His thumb reached out to brush your cheek, “Couldn’t we both use a little unprofessionalism right now?”

The idea was tempting. Too tempting. You could feel those eyes of his melting away your resolve, and you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, biting the inside of your cheek, “What exactly did you have in mind?” There was a wicked look in his eyes, luring you into sin, to submit yourself to his will entirely, “What I have in mind would make too much of a mess and needs more time than we have.” You tilted your head to the side, curious, “So what do we do?” He was quiet for a moment, his eyes flicking over every single facet of your face, your eyes, your cheeks, your lips. He leaned into you, his nose bumping against yours, letting you feel that little ridge where it had been broken. His words were a murmur against your skin, softer than he ever seemed capable of, “I’ll be content with a kiss for now.”

It never seemed to make sense that a devil could be so sweet; you knew what he was capable of, you’d patched him up, you’d seen his medical records detailing what he’d been through, yet here he was, asking you for that simplest of intimacies. You obliged his simple request, leaning forward to press your lips against his, feeling the slight stubble on his skin prickle yours, his hand shifting from your cheek to the back of your neck, the one on your hip moving to the small of your back to pull you closer to him, encircling your body, his lips soft against yours, yet insistent, needy. He pulled away before you, leaning his forehead against yours, letting out a strained sigh, his hand moving from your back to his crotch, adjusting his trousers to disguise the growing bulge there. “The things you do to me.” His voice held some frustration, his fingers tightening on the back of your neck but loosening just as quickly, always in complete control of himself.

You could see the Lieutenant return, the way his back straightened, the grim determination returning to his lips. His hands fell away from your body, reaching for the balaclava and mask he’d put to the side, and you knew your time with him was coming to a close. You stepped back from him, tucking in your shirt, allowing him to resume that persona, covering his bruised face with the black balaclava and then finishing with clipping his skull mask back into place, his helmet finishing the transformation. All that remained of him were those soft eyes, out of place, surrounded by blackness. He reached up with one hand to tuck a loose hair back under your beret, his gloved fingers gently stroking against your cheek. “I’ll be seeing you.”

There was no doubt that he would find you to finish what you’d started here, but for now, he was back to business, standing up off the table and straightening out his uniform. You crossed the room to open the door for him, allowing the outside world view into your privacy, not that there was anything for them to see. He stalked past you without a word, yet as he passed, his hand reached out to gently squeeze your arse, sending tingles up your spine as he left you wanting, trying hard not to look like a lovesick dog as you watched him go.

#jack writes #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod fic #cod smut #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley smut #cod ghost #ghost modern warfare #ghost x reader #ghost x female reader

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negansfavlucille01 · 29 days

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CLEAN IT UP

Negan × f!reader

Warnings: Blowjob, Negan, swearing, hair pulling

Note: I have a few first in my drafts, including innocence pt.2, and I'll post it soon, I promise. If you want to be tagged in my posts, pls say so.

So boring. She thought to herself while the meeting continued.

Negan was talking about supply runs and strategies, something she didn't understand. Y/N was sitting on her chair, bored, her hands on your thighs as she struggled to listen.

It felt like forever when...

"You're dismissed." Negan said, tapping his bat at the table to make sure everyone understood. She went to stand up and walked towards the door. "Y/N, pour me a glass of water before you go."

She sighed, dragging her feet to the small table in the corner of the room where the jug of water and the glasses were. She poured some, then went back to him to hand it. Her clumsiness, of course, had to ruin everything. She tripped over her own feet and fell, the water spilling right at her boss's crotch.

He slowly looked up, then back at where the water spilled. Biting his hip, he gestured her to get up. She stood up, putting the now empty glass on the table.

"Clean it up." It took her a few moments to figure out if he was talking about the floor or his crotch. But unfortunately, he was talking about, in fact, not the floor. "Did I fuckin stutter?"

"No, sir..." She walked to the small table again and took some tissues. He patiently waited for her return. She kneeled before him, right between his thighs and hesitantly reached to mop the water off his pants.

"Cmon, girl. I don't have all day."

Pressing fully your hand on the material, Y/N could feel that Negan had a slight hard on. She looked up at him with wide eyes, but in return she just got that stupid grin looking at her. She shyly looked at the floor as she rubbed the tissue on, mopping the water, but also getting him harder.

Once the pants were almost dry she stood up and threw the tissue in the bin. Wishing for a permission to walk out, she turned to your boss, but he again gestured her to come back.

"See, darlin, you gotta do a little more for me to forget what happened. You can't just fuckin' spill water on me, can you?" She nodded, kneeling down and slowly working her hands on his belt. Seeing his hardness grow made her panties soaked. She slid his pants down, still keeping his boxers on. He looked big. Very big. And that was confirmed when she took off the boxers as well, his long member slapped again his leather jacket, right where his belly button would be. He was long and thick, the mushroomy tip swollen and red. He was a treat. Leaning in and slowly licking the tip while looking into his eyes had him groaning lowly. Unexpectedly, he grabbed her hair and slammed his hips forward, making her take him all. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she gagged but she also felt so much pleasure. He held it long enough for her to slap his thigh, desperately trying to get him to let her go. He didn't. The heat in her core made her feel like a whore for him, but everyone knew the effect he had on women.

Sucking with tears in his eyes and feeling the stings down her throat were painful, but she still wanted to make him proud. He released her, letting her take a few breaths before she got back to work, sucking hard on the tip. His groans got louder and he gripped the table. She sucked and sucked until her jaw ached, her lips became pink and she felt him twitch in her mouth. "Shit, baby. I'm cumming.."

She took him as deep as she could and lookef up at him with lust-filled eyes to watch his reaction. His head is leaned back and his mouth is dropped open as he panted. Suddenly, she felt warm ropes of cum deep down her throat, making her choke. He pulled her face away and smirked as she recovered.

"Good girl."

#jeffrey dean morgan #jdmorgan #negan #negan smith #the walking dead #twd #twd negan #negan fanfiction #negan x reader #negan smut

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pfhwrittes · 2 months

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have a tradie!141 thing that i wrote straight into my tumblr drafts to feel a rush of adrenaline.

tags/warnings: brief allusions to past transphobia (non explicit), food mention, smoking.

pairing: none

characters: kyle "gaz" garrick, john "soap" mactavish, simon "ghost" riley, john price, transmasc!reader.

summary: you're the new guy on site figuring out where you fit with your new work crew Tradie Force 141.

"not to be rude, but aren't you a bit old to be an apprentice?"

it's a phrase that's haunted you for the last year on every job site you've ever been on with your previous company. you're aware that you're at least 10 years older than the other apprentices on site at the best of times but there's no easy way to explain why you're such a late bloomer. not that you'll be spilling your guts to any of the blokes you work with. you'd learned that lesson early on.

you won't lie, you're a bit disappointed that even after joining Tradie Force 141 you're still getting asked that question so you flash a tight smile at the handsome plasterer - kyle - and mutter something about being a late bloomer around the mouthful of sandwich you're eating on your break.

"sorry mate, i don't mean it like that. 's just usually our apprentices are a bit younger than you. proper wet behind the ears y'know? can't find the business end of a trowel and all that." kyle explains before taking a slurp out of his mug of tea.

"aye, they're deid keen an' aw. practically jizz their wee pants when they see their first wage packet." johnny adds with a chuckle from where he's sprawled on one of the three uncomfortable chairs around the tiny table. "i know i definitely did when i was 16."

"mate, you still do!" kyle laughs "oi! mind my tea!"

you shake your head as kyle nimbly dodges johnny's poorly thrown empty bottle saving his tea from spilling on the grimy lino of the portakabin price had designated as the break room for the site.

"i'm gonna go see what price wants." you say after you swallow your last bite and chuck your rubbish in the bin next to you.

"aye, nae bother."

"see you in a bit mate."

you step out of the relative cool of the cabin and you pull your hi-vis over your shoulders so you can quite literally follow your nose to search out either price or simon where you know they'll be smoking near the site manager's office.

"reckon the lad needs a proper nickname, ye ken?" you hear johnny say before the door swings shut behind you. you try ignore the way your stomach lurches as you recall some of the more awful nicknames you'd endured before joining this crew as you cross the flattened dirt to join the pair huddled around a sand filled bucket.

"olright?"

simon's the first to greet you as price has his mobile jammed up to his ear and he's scowling at whatever the poor sod at the end of the phone is saying.

you nod in greeting and price rolls his eyes and mouths "twat" before humming briefly to show he's still listening to his phone call. simon offers you his half smoked cigarette and you shake your head to decline.

"suit y'self." simon says with a shrug before taking a last drag and flicking the still lit cigarette into the bucket of butts. "gonna take a slash." he announces before wandering around the corner of the portakabin that houses price's office.

you fiddle on your phone watching kyle's new tiktok he posted on the Tradie Force account while you wait for price to wrap up his phone call. it takes a few minutes before price's voice interrupts your endless scrolling, who knew reading all the thirsty comments would be so entertaining.

"need something?" price asks around a cigarette, his shrewd blue gaze watching as you scuff the toe of your steel toes on the ground.

"just want to know where you want me next." you shrug casually making sure to shove your phone back in the pocket of your trousers.

"is that right?" price sounds amused and you enjoy the way his eyes crinkle briefly before his phone starts ringing again and he groans. "fucks sake. go find simon while i take this, there's a good lad."

you nod at him and tamp down on a grin as you hear him answer with an exasperated "what now?! can't a man have a fucking cigarette in peace?!" as you turn away to start hunting down the resident plumber.

#tradie!141 #tw smoking #tw food mention #tw allusions to past transphobia #abrupt ending because i ran out of steam but eh i might continue this at some point #kg #jm #sr #jp #despite the tags it's pretty light hearted slice of life stuff

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kermitkrqb · 2 years

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The Usual pt. 3 || Tyler Galpin x reader

A/N: I was going to release this part earlier but tumblr screwed me over and deleted my draft. I had to rewrite it all, fun times 😃. Also wanted to make you guys squirm a bit before I released it haha. ANYWAYS, this is the final part! 🥳

What to expect: Gender neutral reader, reader is a flirt, Tyler is so down bad, no spoilers!!!

Tyler had been anticipating closing time for the rest of his shift. In any other scenario he hated working the closing shift, usually due to the occasional straggler who would stumble in just before close and try to convince him to make them “just one drink” after he had already cleaned the machines. Tyler scoffed at the mere thought, he doesn’t get payed enough for that. With one final sweep of his broom, the brunette finished the last of his closing duties, sitting down in the booth with the two hot chocolates laid out on the table. As if on cue, you strolled through the door, offering the boy a small wave as you sat across from him. A warm smile spread across Tyler’s face, “You came.” You took a sip from the disposable cup, indulging in the flavour, “Of course. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” The coffee boy grinned tilting his head slightly, “Me or the hot chocolate?” You smirked playfully teasing, “The hot chocolate of course,” you held the cup in your hand examining it once more, “in all seriousness, how do you make these? They’re so good, it’s actually insane!”

Tyler smirked, “A barista never reveals his secrets! Besides, it gives you an excuse to see me.” Placing your cup on the table before you, you leaned in, “Oh please, like I need an excuse to see you.” Bringing the cup to your mouth you took another sip, admiring the richness of the chocolate you groaned, “God, I might have to start coming back to you everyday.” The curly haired boy grinned at your reaction, “Yeah? I have that effect on people.” You playfully gasped, “Get your mind out of the gutter, Galpin!” Tyler retorted, “Get my mind out of the gutter? How ‘bout you? We’re talking about hot chocolate obviously.” You played along rolling your eyes, “Obviously.” Tyler admired the smile that now adorned your face, and then decided to tease you more, “Careful now, wouldn’t want your eyes to pop out.” Grinning at him you joked, “Wouldn’t be the first time.” Tyler watched as you took another sip, deciding to fill in the silence, “I still don’t know your name y’know.” You smirked, a twinkle of mischief in your eyes, “Oh I know.”

The barista groaned at your response, his honey eyes stared into yours as he pleaded, “Please don’t leave me on another cliffhanger.” You held eye contact with the boy’s expectant eyes, “Don’t you worry. I’m not that mean,” you paused, “Y/n. Y/n L/n.” Tyler smiled softly, “Pretty. Now I can finally put a name to that face.” He looked down at the cup you held, “You really like hot chocolate, don’t you?” You tilted your head, sarcasm dripping from your voice, “However could you tell?” The brown eyed boy played along, “I had an inkling.” The two of you spent the next hour or so conversing in all sorts of random topics before you checked the time on your watch. You swore under your breath, “Shit. I’ve got to get back to my dorm before Thornhill starts getting suspicious,” you glanced at the Galpin boy before smirking, “This date was really nice. Yet again, I’d expect nothing less from my favourite coffee boy.” You threw the empty cup in the bin, waving once again at the pale boy before turning on your heel. Tyler stood up almost knocking the table over before he rushed to you, grabbing your hand as gently as he could in his state, “You have got to stop walking out on me,” he chuckled, “Can I at least get your number?”

Grinning sheepishly at his accusation, you moved your hand to summon the pen on the counter that was now in your reach. Gently turning over his hand you wrote your digits down careful not to smudge them. Turning once again you were about to leave the Weathervane, although, his sweet hand never left yours. Spinning you around, you tilted your head in confusion, “Wha-” He spoke in a hushed whisper, “You forgot something.” Cupping your face, Tyler leaned in silently waiting for your approval. Just as desperate, you nod, and the boy’s soft lips are on yours moving perfectly in sync. Your breath hitched as you clutched the collars of his uniform, pulling him impossibly closer as he kissed you like a starving man. To the honey eyed boy it felt electric, sparks filling his chest as he got lost in you. He wished for the moment to never end, scared that you would slip away through his fingers like sand but, he would be seeing more of you than he thought. Catching your breath you pulled away with slightly swollen lips and a flushed face, “See you again tomorrow, Tyler.”

A/N: Tyler finally unlocked first name privileges!! Go him! 🥳

#tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin #wednesday netflix #wednesday fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #kermitkrqb

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pullhisteeth · 1 year

Note

okay so… i’m aspec, and i wanted to start off with how much i love how you characterize eddie! his sweet persistent attentiveness is totally what draws me to him. anyway… since you asked for requests, what about eddie reacting to being told reader isn’t ready for sex yet, or maybe that juxtaposed with when they are ready? eddie being patient and happy to hold off… maybe putting an emphasis on nonsexual intimacy or even nudity without it being sexualized? idk just a few ideas, you don’t have to include the aspec stuff if you don’t want but just the reader not being ready and focusing on other ways to feel close to him would be amazing 🥺

hi!!! I found this in my drafts - I am so sorry it took me so long! big love 2 u. <3 (gn!reader, suggestive themes, angst, Eddie being a sweetheart, mention of drugs)

Frustrated, you bring your knees up and kick your comforter down, over your legs and to the end of the bed. The cool air hits your skin like a wave, and it brings enough relief that you can close your eyes for a moment.

The sheets feel like wet sandpaper tonight, clinging to every inch of you. Your pyjamas are nearly as bad.

You turn over and squint through the darkness at the clock beside your bed. It's just past two in the morning, and you huff another irritated noise when you realise you only have four hours until you have to be up for work. You can see it now: you'll drift off, hopefully, at some point in the next few hours, only to be rudely awoken at 6:15 by your alarm. You'll drag yourself into work, where Fiona, the lady you open with on a Friday, will tell you that you look like hell and offer you a modafnil. You'll decline, and when you clock off in the afternoon, you'll head home, fall asleep, and wake in the middle of the night to repeat the process.

You're not sure where she gets the myriad of drugs she seems to carry with her. For a while, you assumed she just had a hefty prescription – she's at least in her late fifties, and age hasn't dissuaded her from smoking a pack a day – but sometimes you catch her at the dishwasher or by the bins out back, swallowing something from another orange bottle. Once, when you were emptying the trash, you found one. It was Xanax.

Maybe there's a drug for this, you think. Because, surely, it's some kind of disorder, a syndrome, something abnormal. Your beautiful, lovely, sexy boyfriend, kind and wild and falling for you, and you still can't find that urge to rip his clothes off.

You turn onto your back again, head slotted between two pillows, and stare blankly at the ceiling, turning over the previous evening in your head. It burns, the embarrassment, like white-hot fire under your skin. Your hair flares, lifting from the hot shame, when you think about his face, the drop of his hands from your waist, the awkward way you let yourself out and came home. He didn't call.

"I'm gonna go clock out."

You reach behind your back to untie your apron, using your elbow to push through the kitchen door back into the diner. Fiona barely turns to acknowledge you from where she's hunched over, polishing a glass, giving a short noise of agreement as you make your way to the staff room. You pull yourself through your routine, throwing the apron in the hamper and shoving your timecard into the machine, before you stop before you reach for your bag.

You realise that you have no way of getting home.

Eddie usually picks you up, but he won't be here today. And you're tired, so tired, too tired to walk home. You'd only finally gotten to sleep a few hours before you woke, just as you'd expected. Your legs feel like lead.

As you mull over your options, you pull your bag over your shoulder and grab your jacket. And when you push the door open, you nearly cry, because sat in his usual spot, right by the door, is your stupid, lovely boyfriend.

He looks up at you when he hears the door, and the first thing you notice is how tired he looks, too. He's a little puffy, almost like he's only just woken up – his hair tells you the same, curls going wild amongst one another, sticking out at every angle. He wears a sad smile as his gaze lingers on you, and you feel yourself nearly crumble under it.

He stands as you make your way over. Just as he does every day, he takes your bag from you and slings it over his own shoulder, and he reaches out and takes your hand, and it's then that you let go.

The tears come quicker than you can stop them, silent, hot rivers running down your face. He tugs gently on your hand, urges you out of the door, not giving his usual quick-whip goodbye to Fiona, and pulls you across the lot to his van.

When he opens the door for you as he always does, helping you in and dropping your bag by your feet, he rubs your knee with one hand and takes your face in the other.

"We're gonna talk about it when we get home, 'kay?" he says, and his voice sounds just as tired as he looks. "Please don't cry."

All you can give him is a nod, but he takes it, squeezing your knee as a quick goodbye before closing the door and jogging around to his side. The ride home is quiet, besides your sniffling, and his hand plants back on your knee for most of it. You look out the window and feel the sun on your face, made hotter as it passes through the glass. Your eyes close and you breathe, and as it paints your skin with a golden heat, you begin to think that maybe this won't be as bad as you've made yourself believe.

You like Eddie's home, perhaps moreso than your own. Yours is lonesome, but Eddie's is full of love. His uncle likes photographs and souvenirs and clutter, and it makes their little trailer feel like the warmest place on earth.

Today, though, it's tainted, edges burned by the memory of the night before. You daren't think about it, too worried about crying more than you already have, but it's difficult when you have to look at the door you slammed in Eddie's face 18 hours ago.

"C'mon," he says, squeezing your thigh and opening his door. You pull your bag onto your knee and do the same, hopping out and following him slowly up the steps. Inside, he takes your bag again, hanging it on a hook by the kitchen, while you take off your sneakers and traipse over to his couch. You don't dare to sit down, though, until he's back by your side pleading with you to.

"What's got you all wound up, hm?" he asks, taking your hand in his, and his voice is like honey, making you want to cry again. You breathe in a short, sharp breath instead and try desperately to ignore the white-hot burn of exhaustion and shame behind your eyes.

You sit and he follows, using his other hand to wipe away the tears as they come. You must look a mess, you think, all tired with huge, dark marks beneath your eyes and cheeks wet from crying. But he's looking at you like he always does, fond as ever.

"Why'd you run off like that last night?" he asks.

"I-" You try to answer, but the words are lost on you, lodged in the thickness of your throat. His arms wind around you and you lean in, lost to the familiarity of it. Your sobs, broken by hiccups and broken breaths, are in freefall.

He soothes you, leaning back so you're lying on his chest. His hands run up and down your back as he kisses the crown of your head and whispers that it'll be okay, that you're okay, we're okay.

"I'm sorry," you say into his t-shirt.

"For what?"

You wish you could tell him, and you wish he wouldn't ask. Isn't it obvious? You stormed out, you slammed the door in his face, you didn't call, you let it get this far, you led him on knowing you'd feel like this.

"For crying on your shirt," you say.

He chuckles and you feel it, the deep rumble of laughter in his chest. He twists underneath you, turning the two of you on your sides to lie facing one another, mostly so he can get a good look at your face.

"I have other shirts," he tells you.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising."

"Sorry."

He laughs again and you can't help but break a smile.

"So," he begins. "Why'd you go?"

"I just…" You sigh and he sees the way your face twists, contorting into something like frustration, so he eases the grip of his arms around you to let you sit up. You do, leaning on his bent knees, and look up to the ceiling.

"I feel… I feel like I've led you on."

"What?" He sounds surprised, which in turn surprises you, because surely he can see that that's what's happening here.

"Eddie, I don't know how to… I can't explain it."

He doesn't say anything. The couch dips and creaks as he sits up, knees crossed, opposite you, imploring you to try.

"I... I can't give you what I'm meant to."

He looks back at you bewildered, and for a brief flash you feel the burn of frustration. You'd usually find this endearing, but all of this would be easier if he would fill in the blanks by himself.

"I don't want to have sex, Eddie."

You watch the dawning of realisation on his face, the twist and the widening. His eyes search your face as you hold it in, the dam close to bursting again, and then he softens.

"Oh, baby, you should've just said."

He reaches over, a hand on your ankle, holding you there as if to stop you leaving.

How could you ever?

"What do we do?" you ask him after a beat. You're looking at one another, you at him because you're sure this is the final time you'll get the chance, and him at you because he's sure he's never loved anybody like this before in his life.

"What do you mean?"

"Eddie, don't make me-"

"You're not leaving me," he tells you. It's not a question, or a plea, but a statement of fact. You're here, with me. You're not going anywhere. I'm not going to make you go anywhere.

"I don't want to," you say quietly.

"And," he begins, inching closer, taking your waist in his big hands to pull you in. "I'm not leaving you."

He resumes his position on his back, you pressed comfortably to his chest. You feel his heartbeat, quicker than usual, and feel a pang of remorse that you've made him so nervous.

You think back to the evening before - when he'd got handsy, and you'd liked it, but then the clothes had started coming off and you'd freaked, pulling your things into a bag and running out the door before he could stop you - and it's suddenly muddied by distance, a memory trapped somewhere far away.

"I'm just not ready," you tell him, cheek to his chest, feeling his fingers run through your hair.

"'S'okay," he murmurs. "I'll be here if you ever are. Or if you never are. Either way."

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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idkjustsupersonic · 1 year

Text

Uhh so never wrote actual smut before aside from my 80+ drafts theres only a few which ive tried to write. I hope this is good 👍🏻

Warnings: protected sex (wear a condom pls), fingering, oral m to f, kissing

The rain fell heavier and heavier as the patrol went on, it was quite boring as for once nothing was going on in Gotham. You and Jason just sat on top of a building eating a Happy Meal each from McDonalds.

"Sometimes I wish Gotham could always be like this," Jason said.

"Same... It's unusually peaceful."

You sipped on your drink as Jason stuffed down the rest of his fries then started sipping on his drink.

You both sat there, finishing off your meals then went to go find a bin. When you did, you placed your rubbish in the bin and went back up to find Jason.

What a surprise, no where in sight. You sat back down as the rain dripped on your face and soaked your hair. It was only 11pm so you had about hour or so until the patrol finishes.

You felt two hands grab your shoulders, making you jump. You turned around, smiling.

“Boo!” Jason yelled, laughing.

“Funny, Todd…”

Jason sat down next to you once again, looking down at the streets.

“Do you want to come back to mine after this?” Jason asked.

“Well, my roommate is probably having some fun with her boyfriend as he’s sleeping around today so why not,” you smiled.

The last hour of the patrol consisted of you both just sitting up on the roof until you followed Jason back to his.

You both went through the window, Jason kicking off his boots and started getting undressed as you came in.

“Get in the shower, Jay. I don’t want to see your ass!” You laughed.

“You’re gonna see way more later, darling,” he laughed back.

You smiled at this, not knowing what he had in plan.

After he got in the shower, you went in the shower and rinsed yourself off. One of Jason’s shirts and a pair of his boxers on the side.

You and Jason were close so it wasn’t really that big of a deal and you both had feelings for each other but you both never had the confidence to tell one another.

You dried yourself as you got dressed into Jason’s clothes and went back to his room.

You laid in his bed next to him, trying not to hog the blanket.

You both kept moving around all night, not being able to sleep.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jason finally broke the silence.

“Yeah?” You replied.

Jason turned over to look at you.

“I love you,” Jason said.

You looked at him, it may of been dark but you looked him straight in the eyes.

“I love you too, Jason,” you said.

You cupped his cheeks with your hands and pulled him into a kiss.

It felt like the most long awaited kiss ever. You two have loved each other since you were both teenagers, it was crazy and you weren’t even going to lie about it.

Jason grabbed your waist and flipped you under him. He released the kiss.

“I don’t think you know how long I was waiting for you to do that,” Jason said.

“Same here,” you smiled.

Jason kissed you again, it was so much more passionate. He then started kissing down your jaw and then onto your neck, leaving hickeys all over it.

You gripped onto his hair, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“Jay-“

“Yes, darling,” he whispered.

“I-I need you,” you said, hesitantly.

He nodded, pulling down his boxers off you. He started rubbing your clit with his fingers and placing kisses on your thighs.

You moaned, grinding your pussy against his fingers.

Jason continued the action then shoved a finger inside you. You moaned loudly, suddenly placing a hand to your mouth.

Jason looked up at you, his other hand grabbing your hand and placing it back down on the mattress.

Jason lips attached to your pussy then he placed another finger into you. You were moaning, sweating and your thighs were shaking around his head.

The coil in your stomach was about to snap but Jason’s mouth unlatched off of you and his fingers were pulled out. Your pussy was clenching around nothing and you were whining at the emptiness.

“Jason, please…” you whined.

“The only time I’ll make you cum, darling, is around my cock,” Jason whispered, pulling down his boxers.

He revealed his hard cock, it wasn’t anything you’ve seen before. It was so thick and long.

Your mouth suddenly went wide open.

“I don’t think that’s going to fit, Jay-“

“I’ll make it fit,” Jason said, cutting you off.

Jason opened a drawer from beside his bed and grabbed a condom. He opened it up and placed it around himself.

“Just tell me when to move,” Jason said.

His eyes were like hawks, they were looking but they also knew exactly what to do and where to go. Jason placed the tip in and continued to slowly thrust the rest. Before just laying there on top of you.

You were moaning, and tears went down your cheeks. It was painful but it slowly turned into pleasure.

Jason kissed you, inhaling your moans and then he started to thrust into you slowly. You grabbed Jason’s shoulders as you didn’t know where else to place your hands as Jason’s hands were on your hips.

Jason then started thrusting faster and faster. Both of your breathings sped up, Jason’s lips came off of yours as he started groaning slightly.

“You’re so tight, baby,” Jason murmured.

Jason continued to abuse your insides, your thighs were shaking and your toes were curling. His tip touching your g-spot every single time.

“Jay, I’m going to cum-“ you moaned.

“Same.”

Jason’s thrusts suddenly got sloppy, he started going faster.

You moaned loudly when you came. The second Jason did, he pulled out and laid down next to you.

“I think that was the best sex I’ve ever had…” Jason whispered.

“Same, I’ve been waiting so long for that,” you whispered back.

Jason got the condom off him and tied it up then placed it in the bin next to his bed.

Jason grabbed his and yours boxers off the floor and he threw yours at you and started placing his on. You shimmied up into the boxers.

“Come here,” Jason said.

You rolled over next to him and he wrapped a hand around your waist and the other on your cheek. You wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed him.

He kissed back and you both kissed each other until you both fell asleep.

The sun came in through the window, Jasons hands resting on your waist and his snoring echoing through the room.

You looked at him as if you were in love and you were. Jason’s eyes started fluttering open, he looked at you with love in his eyes.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you murmured.

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered.

You both laid there for a minute before Jason interrupted the silence.

“Y/N, this is a one time thing isn’t it?” Jason said, sounding slightly upset.

“No. No, it’s not, Jay.”

“If it’s not a one time thing, will you be my girlfriend?”

You kissed him. It was like a replay of last night.

“I take that as a yes,” he responded.

You nodded, smiling.

#x reader #x yn #x you #jason todd x reader #fluff #batfamily #batfam #jason todd #x you fluff #smut #red hood #dc robin

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littleeyesofpallas · 2 years

Text

shashin-ya[写真屋]: photo studio

IMODZURU-tei[イモヅル亭]: Sweetpotato-restaurant

gofuku-ya[呉服屋]: kimono fabric shop

sanpatasu-ya[散髪屋]: barber shop

zakka-ya[雑貨屋]: general store

GINGA-dan "AJITO"[ギンガ団本部]: Galaxy Team HQ

NANA-SHIMA Hanten[ナナシマ飯店]: 77 Four-of-a-kind (Chinese)Restaurant

AME-ya[アメ屋]: candy shop

CRAFT-ya[クラフト屋]: Craft store

[クラフト台]: CRAFT bench

kunrenjou[訓練場]: training ground

Koukan-ya[交換屋]: Exchange store

omamori-seki[おまもり石]: Charm stone

houbokujou[放牧場]: pasture

noujou[農場]: farm

#pokemon legends arceus #emptying the drafts bin #posts i never finished #posts i never will finish #i assume i was going to start cross referencing some of these #as they're all the signs that appear around the village #but at this point I don't remember which signs were on which buildings #and in any case like i said i don't intend to pick up whereever it is that this was left off

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psplf · 7 months

Text

feeling a type of way that can only be fixed by imagining I’m a dude being hugged by another dude in our two story house on the eastern coast with our two dogs and I’m comfortable in my own body wearing my husbands sweats and everything is okay

#:))#questioning everything i guess #or just touchstarved my loathed at it again #gender #gender identity #queerness #emptying the draft bin #dbb drabbles

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just-my-type-x · 6 months

Text

Curly Heads and Caffe Lattes

A little something from me to u bc i had this idea rotting in my drafts for months now. Hope u enjoy it ♥️

Smut, mentions of alcohol

I walk inside the coffee shop and take in the comfy vibe of the dim lit room, with several tables and chairs for upcoming visitors. I sigh in relief when I see the coffee shop almost empty, the early morning not being suitable for everyone.

I order my coffee and I sit at a table close to the window, with a cozy view of the neighbourhood, and I take out my laptop to start working on my project. Deep inside my thoughts and several opened files on my computer, my attention is captured when a man starts swearing and the sound of spilled coffee makes me check my own table to see if my cup is still intact. I sigh in relief and check the incident out.

The curly headed man shakes his hands in a manner to get all the liquid off, while checking out his jeans and the bottom of his white shirt, while the barista is trying desperately to clean the counter and the cashier's machine. The barista mumbles a lot of sorry's, but the curly head keeps on assuring him everything is fine. He picks up his new coffee while he's looking around for a pack of napkins. I look on my table to check if there's any on mine and I pick it up, waving it towards him.

"Here. You look like you need it", I smile and he approaches me, smiling back.

"Thank you, tho it won't help me much.", he chuckles as he presses the napkins onto the fabric of his jeans.

"I heard cold water might help, tho I'm not sure your shirt is going to survive the coffee attack"

He laughs out loud and I smile, his laughter being way cuter than I expected. I take a sip of my drink to hold back the huge smile on my face.

"I'd probably give it to my mom. She handles everything, especially clothing emergencies. They're her favourite.", I chuckle at his confession and I nod.

"Same, whenever I need anything, I call for help. I send an SOS emoji and she sends me a full on screenshot of her notes. They're even sorted, stained clothes, salty food, headaches. Those are the problems and each has a solving.", I laugh and he joins me, which makes my cheeks burn.

"She sounds exactly like my mom.", he throws one last tissue in the bin close to our table. "I'm Brad.", he extends his arm towards me and I shake it happily.

"Y/N, nice to meet you."

"Likewise. So, what are you doing here? Actually no, let me try to figure you out on my own.", he narrows his look and studies me, looking me up and down. I turn my head away, smiling, unable to hold his eye contact anymore.

"Be my guest"

"You seem pretty basic", he says as he sits more comfortable in the chair right in front of me, leaning back.

"I beg your pardon", i blink a few times to see if i understood his stereotyping correctly.

"You look like the type of girl who wouldn't trade her caramel macchiato for anything in this world. You might've gotten the ham and mozzarella croissant as well, got it a little bit heated in the oven.", he checks our surroundings. "You got your laptop right there, you're probably behind with a uni project. The fact that you had time to put make up on shows you're not stressed about the deadline, because you know you're gonna nail the subject and you can touch all the topics in a short amount of time." Brad scans my face for any more clues, but i relax and let my frown disappear, switching to a mischievous grin on my face.

Brad smirks and takes a sip of his latte, pointing at me. "It's not that hard to read you. I've seen you around lately, which leads me to adding that you're here from another country, based on your accent. And", he raises his finger one more time, drawing a circle up in the air, "this is a café where the same 20 people from the neighbourhood come every day. I've only seen you in here since, I'd say... October? That's Uni schedule"

He intertwines his fingers together on the table and straighten his back, waiting for my approval, his smirk never leaving his face, which makes his dimples pop out. I smile and shake my head, leaning forward on the table, sitting just the way he does. We both look like we're about to spill some call-the-police worthy secrets.

"Trying to read me was pretty hot, I'm not gonna lie.", i lean back down on my chair. "Too bad you're too far off the map, Bradley.", i take a sip of my coffee and smirk at his confusion.

"Oh, really? Then tell me where I'm wrong. Is it the coffee? Is it a pumpkin spice?", we both laugh and i take off the plastic cap. "And why didn't you say you know me?"

"Nope. It's an unsweetened latte, actually i don't even know what's it called, it's 2 shots of espresso and some milk", i pause as we chuckle at my dumb self, who all of a sudden started looking inside the cup. "And it's nicer to have a normal and actual conversation with you, other than spoiling that I might know you. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.", I take a sip from my cup.

"Are you a coffee fortune teller now?", he laughs and i hit his arm playfully.

"Yes, it says I'm gonna beat your ass up"

"Please don't, i need my face next week for our concert. And I really appreciate it, but it's fine, don't worry. Now, tell me, what else was wrong?", he intertwines his fingers on the table, waiting for my answers.

"I am working on a project, but not for Uni, it's for an agency. I'm way ahead of my Uni duty, thank you for underestimating me tho.", i tap him on the arm and sarcastically thank him, which makes us both laugh.

I turn off my laptop and put it inside my bag, carrying on with my conversation with Brad. We talk about how I moved to Birmingham for school and work opportunities and he listens carefully to everything I tell him that happened leading up to this moment. We order another set of coffees and I pick them up carefully, not like he did earlier. He talk about touring, his bar and songwriting.

"Oh, I wanna go to your parents' bar so badly. I didn't have enough free time to get there yet", I lay my hands on top of the table like I've just made a huge realisation. His eyes widen.

"You've been here for two months, y/n, stop overworking yourself. Tonight we're going out. How does that sound?", Brad smiles proudly and picks up his phone to check the time. It's 12, how does 6PM sound?"

"Uhhh I think it's ok?", I stutter but nod, smiling. "You don't have to do this, Brad. It's fine."

"It would be my pleasure. Plus, you saved my pants.", we laugh at his statement.

"That's a way of thanking me", I chuckle and we carry on with our coffees.

Hours pass and Brad and I pull up to the back entrance of the bar and he holds the door for me.

We get a table and he instructs the waiter to bring us their specialties, which I don't say no to. We munch on a few almonds and chips and we drink a little bit of everything, while talking about our lives and getting to know each other better. Later into the night, the music and the idea of dancing the night away is becoming more and more appealing to the both of us. As if he read my mind, Brad takes me by the hand and I follow him into a back room full of supplies, where the music is still loud enough to be heard by us. We end up dancing around, stumbling upon boxes of liquor and kicking down bags of all sorts of nuts.

"I'm a sure victim tonight if we break anything", he laughs as he picks up a bag off the floor.

"If anybody asks, I've never met you", I raise my hands in defence and I jump on a free table, sitting on it. I let out a yawn. Brad looks in my direction and approaches me, the same action of eyeing me up and down present. I smile and bite my lip, looking away from him, the alcohol and the entire day adding up to my growing frustration.

Brad touches my face gently and turns my face towards his, so I could look him in the eyes, but my eyes drop on his lips. I try to look up, but I find myself looking back at his lips. He licks his lips and I feel my body warming up. As if he knew, both his hands cupped my face, forcing me to look at him.

"Wanna go out of here?", he asks, looking back and forth from my lips to my eyes.

"We live far from here", my voice comes out shaky, my breath heavy. I let out a muffled moan as he crashes his lips on mine and uses his hands to push my legs apart so he would fit between my legs, closing the distance between us. I part my lips, allowing his tongue to take full control over me and my feels. I grab him by the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me, my free hand travelling down his torso.

"Fuck", he whispers, kissing abd biting my jaw. His hands grab me by my hips and squeeze with force, making me gasp in slight pain. Brad moves his hands higher, grabbing the hem of my blouse and hiding his hands under it, rubbing the exposed skin. I do the same, but i pull his sweater up, until he takes it off by himself. He allows me to trace his torso with my finger, while my eyes expect his chest and abdomen.

"That's too much staring, love, i don't have the patience for that", he smirks and i bite my lip, pulling him back into a kiss. He takes off my top and kisses my breasts, pushing me to get lower on the table so he could have full access to my jeans. "May i?", he looks at me with a raised eyebrow and i nod. He kisses under my belly button and i chuckle.

Brad takes off my jeans and I'm quick to unzip his, letting gravity do it's thing.

Brad's hot breath falls on top of my chest as he lets out a soft laugh. His fingers run softly on my leg, drawing small circles on my skin, teasing me. His fingers find their way between my legs and he traces the outline of my pussy through the panties i wear. With my head fallen backwards, i moan frustrated when he takes his hand away, only to take off my bra.

"I just want you to know that I'm not like this usually", I say breathing heavily.

"Like this meaning so fucking horny, wet and so desperate for me to fuck you?", he smirks on the side of my neck, his lips pressing on my hot flesh. Kissing down my neck, he bites on my collar bone, his hand wrapping around my neck, only for him to drag it downwards, over my exposed chest and breasts.

"You get what i mean", i whimper almost, as his fingers start teasing me again through the fabric

"Don't worry, love, it's been enough stereotypes for one day.", he laughs and kisses me one more time before taking my panties off. He takes off his boxers and i stare respectfully at his length, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Brad grabs a condom from his wallet and rolls it on himself, positioning the tip at my entrance. We gasp when he is fully inside, the fullness feeling unbeatable all of a sudden.

"Fuck, move Bradley", i grab on his shoulders and he pulls me closer to his body, his hands on my back.

Brad moves slowly in and out of me, sighing and holding back his moans.

"You're so tight, fuck. You feel so good, y/n", he grabs my hair in his fist, giving himself enough space to bury his head in the crook of my neck. I try holding back my moans with every stroke, and i let go of Brad's shoulders and i lean back on the table. He wastes no time and grabs my hips harshly, building up the speed. "What a sight, oh my God", he groans and throws one of my legs on his shoulder. I bite my hand in order to stop a loud moan to come out and he chuckles. "Let it out, babe. I know it feels good"

"It feels amazing, keep going like this", i plead and he keeps pushing hard between my legs. The rhythm makes me lose my mind and i feel the familiar tingling feeling building inside my body. "I'm close"

Brad squeezes my hips harder, building up his pace. I throw my head back and arch my back, my body trembling from the intensity of the moment. Brad's orgasm follows soon after, his moans proving me that he enjoyed it as much as i did.

We get back to our senses and get dressed, both of us still breathing heavily and smiling.

"Thank you for that, i didn't realise how much i needed that", i say as i run my hands through my hair.

He walks next to me and kisses me quickly. "It was amazing. I'm sorry for the circumstances, i promise next time it'll be in a proper location", we both laugh

"I'm patiently waiting for that next time.", i wink at him and i start walking towards the door, him following close behind.

"Hmm, tomorrow?"

I laugh at his impatience. "I'll make it work", i shake my head,smiling

"Perfect"

#brad simpson #brad simpson imagine #brad simpson smut

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sillygooseness · 4 months

Text

You Give Me Something To Hold Onto

My greatest pride and joy is finally finished after like a year in my drafts!

Trigger warnings: Alcoholism, Addiction, Mental Health Issues, Relapse,,,, yeah lister relapses :( but it's okay! because it's part of the journey :)

Title is from the song High On You by Sam Fischer and Amy Shark

Jimmy is startled awake by the sudden motion of Lister jolting across the bed, frantically tearing the duvet off of his sweat soaked body in a panic. Jimmy knows exactly what is happening before the sleepy fog clears from his head.

“There’s a bin by your head,” Jimmy croaks, as he hurries to be by his boyfriend’s side. He’s gotten over just in time to grab Lister’s lengthy light brown hair as he doubles over the bin. One hand is pushing the fringe from his forehead, the other holding the long strands behind his neck, letting his nails move soothingly along his skin. They’re both sitting on the side of the bed, Lister clutching the bin like his life depends on it as all of the alcohol and regret comes back up.

“Let it out, you’re okay.” Jimmy moves his hand from his neck down to rub comforting circles on his back.

As Jimmy continues to hold him, the memories of yesterday come flooding back to him. The panic he and Rowan had felt to their core when Lister had disappeared from the flat, and the jumble of despair and relief that washed over them when they realized Lister had forgotten to turn his phone’s location off so that they quickly saw that he was at the club across town. His old favorite. And they were very much too late. Retrieving him and dragging his severely intoxicated body back home was still a blur, which is probably for the best. Jimmy doesn’t want to relive that anxiety.

The sound of Lister dry heaving into the trash bin pulls Jimmy right back into the present moment. He’s groaning as his abdomen continues to spasm.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Lister moans repetitively as his muscles begin to calm. He can’t stand the stench as he hovers his face over the bin, but he’s too ashamed of himself to bring his head up to face his boyfriend. He’s let him down, and he doesn’t deserve this care he’s receiving from him.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Jimmy repeats.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t be silly, Lis.”

Jimmy pulls Lister’s head up by his cheeks and grabs a tissue from the bedside table to dab at the corners of his mouth, then the sweat from his forehead before kissing him there.

Lister can’t meet Jimmy’s eyes.

“I feel like shit.” A tear falls down Lister’s cheek that seems to open a floodgate as his eyes squint shut and more come pouring down, all of which Jimmy wipes away with his thumbs. “And I’m really dizzy.”

“Here, drink some more water.” Jimmy reaches a hand over to the bedside table to grab the glass he’d left there a few hours before. Lister drinks it all very slowly before shifting back into Jimmy’s embrace.

“Let’s get your teeth brushed and go back to bed. It’s still dark.” Lister nods at this.

Jimmy stands up first, grabbing Lister by his hands and pulling him up with him. He wraps his arms around the taller boy’s waist, walking him to the bathroom. When he turns the bathroom light on, Lister winces, so he turns it back off and sets up his phone’s torch on the counter instead. Jimmy watches him from the door. He finds it hard to keep his eyes open as he leans against the doorframe, and the yawn he finally lets out makes Lister feel even more guilty for causing his boyfriend to be up at this hour.

Lister dares a glance at the shadow of his own reflection, but he can’t stand to look at the ghost in front of him. He barely gets a glimpse of the dark circles under his eyes and the emptiness behind his gaze before quickly diverting his focus back down to the sink as he finishes brushing his teeth. Jimmy notices and spreads his arms wide, eyes still half closed, and opens and closes his palms to gesture for Lister to join his embrace. Of course he obliges, and Jimmy raises to his tiptoes so that he can easily wrap his arms around the taller boy’s shoulders, letting their cheeks brush lightly before burying his head in his boyfriend’s neck. They stand in the doorway holding each other for a long moment, reveling in the safety of their warm embrace that keeps the both of them still before the chaos they both know will ensue tomorrow. Finally, Jimmy begins to walk them back to bed. Once his boyfriend is under the covers, Jimmy grabs the empty cup on the nightstand and the trash bin before disappearing out the door.

When he reappears with an empty trash bin and full glass of water, Jimmy finds Lister curled up in a ball under the sheets. He crawls in behind him and curls his arm over his abdomen to hold him close. Lister clutches Jimmy’s arm to his chest as if it is his only anchor to reality, so Jimmy pulls him even closer against his chest. Even though Lister is bigger than him, he loves being the big spoon sometimes. It makes him feel like Lister’s protector, especially in this moment.

“Do you hate me now?” Lister asks in the smallest voice he’s ever heard.

Jimmy could cry right there. After everything they’ve been through together, it baffles Jimmy that Lister could still think that’s plausible. “Of course I don’t, darling. I love you. I knew exactly what I signed up for when we started dating.”

“I know I just-“

“Do you stop loving me when I have panic attacks?” Jimmy interrupts. He doesn’t know where Lister is going with that sentence, but he knows his heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

“Of course I don’t.”

“There you are then.” Jimmy states, as if his point is that simple.

“It’s not the same,” Lister insists, still mildly confused about how his incessant alcoholism equates to Jimmy’s panic disorder.

“How is it not the same? You love me through all my anxiety and dysphoria. I love you through your addiction, when you’re sober and when you relapse. We both deal with each other’s shit, that’s the deal.”

“I guess,” Lister sighs as Jimmy kisses the back of his shoulder. “Rowan is mad at me though.”

“Rowan isn’t mad.”

“Yes he is.”

Jimmy begins to move his fingers that are splayed out on Lister’s chest in a soothing motion across his skin. He still can’t really move the rest of his hand because of how tightly it’s being held. That’s fine by him, though.

“I promise you that he’s not. We were both just worried, that’s all. We want you to be safe,” Jimmy squeezes him impossibly tighter against his chest, hoping that Lister can feel his sincerity through his tight hold.

Lister just hums in response and settles himself further into Jimmy’s embrace. Of course he doesn’t believe him, but they could go back and forth until the sun cracks, so he stays quiet.

They don’t say anything more after that, and Lister can tell that Jimmy has fallen back asleep when his fingers cease their movements on his chest, and he feels Jimmy’s breath slow down against the back of his neck. He is grateful for his dizziness for the moment because if it weren’t for the spinning room rocking him to sleep, he’s sure all of the self-deprecating thoughts echoing around his head would keep him up for at least three days.

—-

Jimmy is the first to wake back up a few hours later. They’ve both shifted from their original positions, so he turns onto his side to make sure his boyfriend is still sleeping, and frankly, still breathing. He’s relieved to see his chest subtly moving up and down. Tears prick at his eyes as he stares at his boyfriend’s face, reliving the relief at knowing he is safe. Jimmy finds himself worried most of the time, but nothing compared to the distress of not knowing if his boyfriend was safe. Or even alive. Again. He wants to reach out towards his face and just hold him, relish in the feeling of his chest expanding against his, but he knows better than to wake him up. He knows that as soon as Lister wakes up, he’ll be miserable. Not just physically, but he will also be beating himself up for relapsing. This isn’t the first time this has happened since he first decided to get sober, but it is the first time they are going through it as a couple. Jimmy doesn’t think this adds to the stress of the situation, as he’s always loved Lister and cared deeply about his well-being. That feeling just takes up a different space now. And now, he can hold Lister through his hangover, kiss him, tell him he loves him through it all.

He hasn’t always been good at comforting others during stressful times, but his confidence has grown with Lister. Lister is actually pretty easy. He just needs lots and lots of words of affirmation, as well as lots of cuddles. So that is fully how Jimmy intends to spend their day.

Jimmy is pulled from his train of thought when he notices Lister starting to wake up. Even though the boy’s eyes are still closed, his face twists, and he lets out a groan.

“You’re okay,” Jimmy whispers, finally reaching his hand forward and stroking Lister’s cheek. Lister immediately moves his hand to intertwine his fingers with Jimmy’s and keeps the back of his palm against his cheek. Jimmy’s touch on his face is the only thing that feels good right now.

“I don’t feel okay.”

“What hurts?”

“My head. And my stomach.” Jimmy tries to pull his hand away, but Lister keeps it pressed to his face.

“I’m just grabbing your water and painkillers.”

Lister sighs and lets him go, pulling the sheets up to cover his face. “Can you close the curtains, too, please? It’s too bright.”

Jimmy does just that and when he comes back over to the bed, he rests his hand on Lister’s back to support him into a sitting position.

“Open,” Jimmy instructs, tapping Lister’s chapped lips with his thumb. He complies, and Jimmy places the pill on his tongue then holds the water to his lips.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” After Jimmy kisses his forehead, Lister eases down so that he is laying on the bed with his head laying in Jimmy’s lap. They’re quiet for a while, Jimmy mindlessly playing with Lister’s hair, but he has so many questions. They have to talk about this.

“Lis,” he starts, and he feels his boyfriend tense in his lap. Maybe from the noise, but maybe because he can sense his serious tone. Jimmy adjusts his volume to a whisper when he continues, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He just shrugs in response.

“You’ve been so… off. Were you thinking about drinking that whole time? Or was it just impulsive?”

Another shrug.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“If you could tell something was wrong then you could have said something, too,” Lister finally grumbles.

“Would you actually have been honest with me if I had?”

Silence.

Jimmy audibly sighs and rethinks his strategy. This isn’t going anywhere.

Their relationship is not tumultuous by any means, but communication is still their biggest issue as a couple. Talks like this are still rare since they’d both rather internalize their feelings rather than expose their vulnerability, but now that it’s reached this point, this talk is inevitable. They’ve both been through enough therapy at this point that they both have the tools to have this conversation, so Jimmy is determined to get the truth out of his boyfriend.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything,” Jimmy starts again. “I guess I wanted to think that you would work it out. Or maybe enough cuddles would make our problems go away.”

“If only,” Lister forces out a chuckle, but it quickly triggers the lump in his throat. He’s choking up, but doesn’t want to start crying again, so he starts talking instead. “I just felt so pathetic for even thinking about it after all this time. Like, I should be all fixed, but I’m still this mess. And I still get so worried that you’ll realize it and-”

“Lister, you’re not- I’m not-”

“But now I’ve made it worse,” he continues to ramble. And he has started to cry. Double whammy. “And now I have to start this whole fucking sobriety thing all over again, which honestly feels impossible. And I feel even more worthless.”

Jimmy lifts up Lister’s head so that he can shimmy down to lay in front of him on the bed. He grab’s Lister’s face in both of his hands again, letting his thumbs wipe away his tears in a way all too reminiscent of the way he did last night. Lister forces himself to look into Jimmy’s eyes, and when he does, Jimmy’s heart drops. He feels his own eyes well up again because of course they do. Jimmy is the one who cries all the time, not Lister, and seeing him so broken feels so very wrong.

“You are not worthless. None of this dictates your value as a human being. Doesn’t make you any less kind, or passionate, or brave, or completely lovable. It doesn’t take away your good heart.” He’s gripping Lister’s face firmly now, letting his fingers play with the hairs falling in front of his ears. Lister’s fingers are fidgeting with the hem of Jimmy’s shirt.

Lister shifts his eyes from Jimmy’s again. He knows Jimmy believes these things about him, but in moments like this it’s almost impossible to think of himself as anything more than terrible inside and out. Jimmy is not having this, though. He ducks his head down to force him to look into his wide eyes. Lister can’t really take the glare seriously though, because he can see right through Jimmy’s own red eyes swelling with tears. It makes him feel worse knowing that he’s in this state because of him. Those big brown eyes will always be Lister’s kryptonite.

“As for me; you know our deal. As soon as you stop trying, that’s when I tap out.”

Lister just nods.

“You have people in your life who want to support you. But you have to let us in so that we can do that.”

“So my therapist tells me,” Lister grumbles.

“When are you seeing her next?”

Lister sniffles while he tries to remember what day it even is today. “Um, in a couple days I think.”

“Good.”

Lister moves his forehead to rest against Jimmy’s. They just breathe together for a moment.

“I love you,” Jimmy breaks the silence once more before planting a firm kiss to his lips. Maybe his words are going in one ear and out the other, but he can show his boyfriend how wonderful he is through every spark in his touch. Through every kiss.

Jimmy only pulls away to place kisses on Lister’s cheek, then his forehead, his nose, and the corner of his mouth. Usually when Jimmy does this, Lister’s face would scrunch up in a giggle. It may lead to a tickle fight, more teases, more kisses. Today is different; Lister feels much too nauseas, but the soft pressure on his face does make him forget about his pounding headache for just a moment.

“I love you so much,” Lister whispers as he leans into his boyfriend’s soft kisses, gently holding onto his biceps.

“You’d better.”

Lister smiles faintly because Jimmy isn’t usually one for sass. He moves his face ever so slightly so that the kiss meant for the side of his mouth lands right back on his lips, and both of them smile a little bit, before Lister sighs and buries his face in Jimmy’s neck.

“I’m really knackered today, Jim. Can I pick up with the trying tomorrow?” Lister groans, earning a slight chuckle.

Jimmy responds by planting a single kiss on Lister’s temple, making him scrunch his face up cutely. Jimmy holds his boyfriend gently, bringing his hand up to play with his hair again. There’s a lot left to unpack, but this will do for now. He hopes that Lister will be more honest with his therapist.

“The bin on your side of the bed is clean if you start to feel sick again,” Jimmy reminds Lister gently.

“I think I’m okay for now. Stay tuned, though.” His voice is muted against Jimmy’s skin, and he simply hums in response.

Moments like these are so gentle. Maybe because of how rare they are. If Jimmy is glad for one thing out of all this mess, it’s that this happened during a stretch of days where they don’t really have anywhere to be. Things will pick up soon, though, and they will have to make sure Lister is ready to pretend that nothing ever happened as they embark on a new round of press tours and performances. That’s days away, though, so for now, they can rest.

Their comfortable silence is broken by a knock on the door. Jimmy calls out for Rowan to come in while Lister lets out a guttural, albeit muffled, groan. Rowan opens the door slowly, and Jimmy almost laughs at his wide eyes looking like he’s sussing out the room.

“I just wanted to check in on you, Allister,” Rowan starts slowly, only to receive another loud groan in response, his face still nuzzled into Jimmy’s neck. “Right. Well, I was going to offer to make pancakes. Can’t take painkillers on an empty stomach.”

“You up for a pancake party in bed?” Jimmy nudges him after a beat of silence.

“As long as it’s quiet,” he grumbles.

“Right then. I’ll be back with pancakes.”

Sure enough, Rowan reappears within the hour, somehow balancing three plates of pancakes like some experienced waiter, before handing them off to his friends and shoving his way onto the giant bed.

“I’ll try not to third-wheel too hard,” Rowan teases, earning a swat from Jimmy, who had to reach over a wincing Lister to do so.

“Thanks for the pancakes, Ro.” Lister mumbles after they’ve eaten their pancakes in silence for a few moments.

Jimmy hums to second the sentiment since his mouth is full of pancake. Rowan simply pats Lister’s leg in response as he munches away at his own plate. It’s quiet for a while as they all eat their breakfast, Lister eating very slowly in an attempt to not throw it all back up. One of them has put on an old 90’s film to play quietly as they eat.

After finally finishing his plate, Lister seems to feel a little more like himself. He decides to make it known by opening his big mouth.

“If I had known that all it would take for a pancake party was to relapse again then-”

“No, Allister!” Rowan exclaims at the same time that Jimmy scolds, “Don’t even joke!”

“Ow, ow, too loud!” Lister whines as he moves his fists- which are still clutching his knife and fork- to protect his ears. “No joking about relapsing, got it.”

As they quiet down, Jimmy leans over to try to help detangle the bit of syrup that got into Lister’s hair.

“Seriously, though, I don’t deserve you two. Thank you,” Lister speaks again through little winces when Jimmy accidentally pulls at a clump of hair a bit too hard.

“Would you please quit it with that” Jimmy mumbles with clear exasperation. “He’s been saying this shit for hours, Rowan.”

“I’m serious,” Lister insists. “I’m going to do better this time. I won’t let you down again.”

Jimmy and Rowan share a seemingly telepathic glance, the kind that Lister used to hate.

“I think we both appreciate the sentiment,” Rowan finally responds, “but I seriously don’t think you’ll get very far if you’re only worried about disappointing us. Stay sober for the sake of yourself, yeah?”

Lister just sighs. He doesn’t quite know how to do that. Even after all of this time working on himself. But Jimmy and Rowan have already worried about him enough these last 24 hours, so he decides to just give them what they need to hear for now.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

#my writing #iwbft #lister bird #jimmy kaga ricci #rowan omondi #bicci #osemanverse #i was born for this #iwbft fanfic

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romirola · 2 years

Text

Turns out I had one more Redactedverse oneshot left in me before I get started on drafting a new fic! @ejunkiet, I saw from your tags you've been struggling with migraines lately! I'm so sorry to hear that, friend. I wrote you this little piece featuring Angel comforting shifted!David as he endures a migraine in hopes of making you feel better. (This will eventually live in my AO3 oneshot collection.)

Rating: T, WC: ~1.3K, Characters: David/Angel, Prompt: Self-prompted to make EJ feel better

Thanks for reading! Any and all feedback is welcome and cherished!

Angel gingerly placed the glass of flat 7up beside the bed. They frowned, letting their eyes linger on the large, wolf-shaped lump underneath the soft sheet.

“Davey?” Angel whispered. “Can I do anything for you?”

Poking his head out from the sheet, David Shaw squinted, torn by his desire to shut out any scrap of light from his vision and to take in the comforting sight of his mate. “Hmm.” For a moment, he had almost forgotten he was in his wolf form and wanted to shape the sound into a word. Instead, when the strong muscles of his mouth wouldn’t oblige him, David settled for a huff. He pulled his ears back as his lips curled upwards. His heightened senses, normally such a point of pride for David, betrayed him as he processed even the muted stimuli around him. Despite that drawback, he typically opted to ride out a migraine in his wolf form. Somehow, some way, retreating into his wolf offered David a little bit of comfort. In his wolf form, despite the pounding headache, horrific nausea, exhaustion, and oversensitivity to everything, David felt like he could handle all of the inescapable awfulness that his occasional migraine attacks caused him.

“Err,” David tried again in a deep and low rumble of a voice so as not to irritate the throbbing in his skull. When his eyes opened a little bit wider, David was relieved to find that Angel had cloaked the room in darkness.

The misery in David’s sharp eyes was evident to Angel. His pupils, usually prominent and full of life, were dull and tiny. “Aww, Davey.” They sat down on the edge of the bed and reached their hand out, letting it linger in the air for a moment, like they knew even the slightest unwanted touch would be tortuous for David. “May I?”

A soft, grateful whine of consent escaped his lips. He blinked slowly.

When Angel’s hand finally met his forehead and gently rubbed, David’s tail thwacked once to tell Angel how good it felt and once more in an unnecessary plea for them to continue the small gesture.

Angel did.

As David felt himself get lost in Angel’s touch, he thought about all the times in his life a similar scene had played out without Angel.

He thought of the times when he was a teenager when a migraine would hit. The first time David got a migraine, he was fourteen and in the middle of his school day. He didn’t understand what was happening or how to cope when his body went completely haywire. But when he finally forced himself to ask a teacher to let him go call his dad from the school's main office, Gabe picked David up from school and quickly escorted him to his room as soon as they arrived home. Gabe expertly soothed away David's pain with soft, hushed words. He even held David upright as the poor kid emptied the contents of his stomach into the plastic trash bin near the edge of David's bed. Through it all, Gabe stayed with David. He remembered falling asleep to his father's steady droning speech about something and, even though David wasn't cognizant enough to know for sure, he could've sworn that the pillow underneath his head somehow transformed into Gabe's chest.

It was the first, but not the only, time Gabe took care of David when a migraine came over him. Even as a young adult when he had the opportunity to shift into his wolf form, David found it impossible not to cling close to his father during a migraine.

“You’re holding in too much stress, David,” his father would say with a genuine sympathy that made David feel like a cub again. “It’s going to show up, one way or another, sooner or later. You gotta learn to relax before things get to this point.”

David's throat tightened when he felt a familiar wave of grief hit him. His front paws twitched a few times as he extended and retracted his claws to stretch his sore limbs.

“Just try to relax now,” Angel cooed. When their other hand began to stroke the tufts of longer hair at his chest, David willed himself to do as his mate asked, even though it was nearly impossible for him to sink into the bed so he could give into the overwhelming exhaustion. Everything hurt too much for that.

David let his thoughts wander to a time when a particularly bad migraine struck him a few years ago. It had been shortly after he secured an office space for the growing company. The legal and financial requirements alone were stressful enough, but David had undertaken that project of expanding the company so quickly after his father had died, throwing himself into a tangible activity that proved David was capable of carrying on his father’s legacy as a good alpha. It should’ve been impossible for him to do, but somehow, he did it. It was only after he got everything successfully settled that the migraine hit him one night. David’s body had always worked like that. It never failed that no matter how he was able to push through any type of work that needed to be done, as soon as that work was finished, his body would succumb to the buildup of stress and collapse. David was thankful that at the time, Asher had been spending more time with, as he called them, “the Elevator Babe,” so David did not have to worry about Asher seeing him like that. Truly, the only thing that made David more uncomfortable than a migraine was having other people see him as he endured the migraine.

People other than his father, that is.

The absence of his father was something that hit David at the most inopportune times, that one included. When David came to the realization that his father wasn’t there to help him through the migraine, would never be there to help David again, it was like a competition of hurt was taking place inside David’s body and it was anyone’s guess who would win: his head or his heart.

The only score David really remembered was that he was thoroughly miserable. He fumbled through the pain as best he could, trying to wait in a grief-stricken agony until the migraine passed, unable to stop his tears from leaking out of his eyes and his thoughts from spiraling into despair.

What if my head never stops hurting? What if the pack needs me and can’t help because I’m too busy puking? How can I make it stop? What would Dad say if he saw me like this? Why did he have to die?

“Hang in there, Davey,” Angel told him, the rhythm of their scratches and strokes offering David a chance to focus on something else other than the churning in his stomach and head. Whenever they spoke, it was like everything quieted for David. “Soon, it’ll go away. Until then, you take all the time you need to feel better.”

David let himself be surrounded by the comforting warmth of Angel’s touch as they deftly fixed a wrinkle in the blanket that sat unnaturally heavy on his back before they weaved their fingers back into his dark fur. Out of instinct, David let his head bow and nosed his face into Angel’s hand at this chest. He carefully took their hand in his mouth, just letting his teeth graze their skin without any pressure. A gesture that he hoped encapsulated the complete devotion he felt for Angel.

Angel didn’t flinch. “I love you, too.”

David let go of their hand, though not without giving them a few licks, and settled back onto the bed. He settled back onto the pillow and drowsily let his eyes close, content to let his mate chase away his migraine by sending him to sleep with their unempowered, magical touch.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted fanfiction #redacted david #redacted davey #david shaw #redacted angel

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