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honestsycrets · 9 months

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playing house | single parent au: mechanic!miguel x teacher!reader

❛ pairing | mechanic!miguel x teacher!reader; single parents au

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | gabi's on a hunt to get a mami. miguel doesn't really need help with it. or, Miguel trades mechanic work for love.

❛ tags | explicit, mechanic!miguel, first grade teacher!reader, some mention of hurt, heavy themes of voyeurism (both ways), single parents, unhygienic sxconditions, Spanish not translated, very domestic fic, f!reader, protective miguel, very light mutual jealousy.

❛ request fulfilled | Miguel is a single dad, Reader is his daughter's kindergarten teacher, and he is both very obviously crushing on her and very reluctant to say it. Fortunately, his daughter isn't! "Did you know my papi likes you?" Cue flustered Miguel. + BROOOO mechanic!miguel is hot please tell

❛ sy's notes | flashback to that one time a car fell on my tio. 😅

The job was a simple part replacement. A fizzled-out chunk of metal that would cost any single mother more in labor and puff costs at any mechanic shop. But not with Miguel, who was known around the barrio for his begrudging care. He’d do any job Lyla brought to him for any madre around who needed him.

He wrung his hands out on his stained top and lifted his head out of the hood of an old but faithful car. After a click and a lock, he turned his eyes toward the dusty cover. Syncopated beats trill from a radio ring background static that he’s long since zoned out to focus on his work. He wiped his forehead and looked at the trampled grass underneath a cheap plastic pool.

“Gabriella, bring me the manguera,” he called out to his little girl, who looked at the hose in her little pool bobbing with poppy bright toys. The older she got, the worse her loneliness became. Not due to any ill-doing of Miguel who always tried his best to be present. For some reason, Miguel couldn’t bring himself to date in anything but short bursts.

“Papi, look across the street. New neighbors!” Gabriella cooed delightfully. She splashed out of the pool with the long emerald green hose in hand, bobbing over on her long skinny legs. “It’s a girl. A pretty girl! And she’s looking right at you!”

Like that was a new occurrence. Miguel turned his hand over his sun-bright daughter’s short, sodden braids that whipped just over her shoulder. She stood in place, bouncing delightfully over newcomers. There were many viejitos in the cul-de-sac, but not enough kids.

“¿Y qué, mi vida?” he asked her. His hand shipped free from her hair. “She’s probably taking in the barrio.”

“I think she is! You!”

He threw a glance over his shoulder only to find your prying eyes eating him up from across the street. You speak to a pair of movers-- but your eyes slipped away from theirs, where he stood with his little girl. The hose dumped water onto the street. Water that he’d usually be extra concerned about wasting. Today, he was more interested in a game.

His dirty white t-shirt is matted to his back, soaked in the sweat of the day. He gripped the bottom of his t-shirt on either side and tugged it over his head. It pulls on his well-corded arms, protesting its release from his body. Miguel slipped it over his shoulder and proceeded to release bits of sweat from his thick hair. An adorable gasp fell free from your lips, replaced by your hand over your lush lips, snapping back to attention.

“You’re right, Gabi.”

He took the sputtering hose from her and cracked a begrudging smile. Gabriella waved eagerly-- and to his surprise, you waved back. If it wasn’t the hot sun beating down your face, it was the embarrassment on your face. You settled the sunglasses on the cute crook of your nose. With that, Gabriella helps him wash the car until her most hated part, drying it with old towels and bits of Miguel’s ripped old shirts.

“Hola!”

“Coño,” Miguel cursed in surprise, turning around to face you. In your hand was a clear plastic bag stuffed full of the filled corn husks, warmth steamed its sides. Miguel glanced down at the bag in your comparatively soft hands, drawing his sweaty shirt over his cut muscles to wipe away the sweat that slicked his dusky skin.

“I brought you and your lindita tamales.”

“Tamales!” Gabriella cooed, her hands cradling a limonada. They made it together, like clockwork every Sunday. “I love tamales!”

“Don’t old neighbors bring new one’s food?” Miguel bit out, a bit annoyed. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate food, it would save him countless bright-ass early meals dragging himself out of bed to make Gabriella something with school right around the corner. He’s annoyed at that star-bright smile you have whipped across your face. It stirred excitement he thought he killed a long time ago. “Or are you just a show-off?”

“I teach first grade at the school across the street,” you ignored his snark and looked none the more bothered by it. There’s some magic in a woman that didn’t feed into his shit. You provided Miguel with a name that felt familiar to all the orientation packets he received just this week. “Ya tú sabes, umm, at Carillo’s.”

Of course.

“That’s where I go!” Gabriella beams. “I’m Gabriella O’Hara and I’m going to be in first grade, right papi? This is my papi. His name is Miguel.”

Damn it all. Miguel slaps his sweaty shirt on the top of the car. You kneel down, offering her up the tamales instead of Miguel. He blinks through his sudden irritation, realizing that he’s fucked now. Gabriella grabs the plastic bag, giggling delightfully over them.

“Then maybe you’ll be in my class, Miss O’Hara.”

When he checks her orientation paperwork-- there it is. He suddenly felt the pressure of the ordeal, of the pretty next-door neighbor who wore flowy dresses and apparently, loved muscles. His eye darted out to the window, the movers zipping off in a whir of color, leaving you just there, spinning around in the driveway of your new home, nearly too sun-bright.

Maybe it’s tied to being a father, but Miguel notices little things you do. Some are ineffectual. Others are dangerous. You leave your bedroom window wide open as you change. Miguel sat outside on Gabriella’s swing on his second cup of coffee for the day when he noticed it for the first time.

You come in from your shower and scurry about your room nearly naked. Then, cupping your breasts between your hands, you whirled around for a set of underwear. From this far, he can’t quite make out the color. It might be red. Not a poppy red, but a deep, soothing red he recognizes from his dead wife’s wardrobe.

He wasn’t sure why you wouldn’t just change in the bathroom, but in any case, it was… dangerous. Any freak walking by could see you changing. Mimi’s room had very well-used blinds and yours did not. He turns his attention back to the newspaper on his lap. Nueva York stalker confesses to stabbing murder in five-year-old cold case. He scrunched his nose at the news and drank a coffee that had long since gone cold.

Sometime later, your front door swung open. Mimi busted through, a little girl with long black twists and black eyes that held a similar excitement for the weekend. It was her papi time. Gabriella doesn’t have that luxury, two homes full of warmth. Just one, with a papi who loved her more than life itself. Miguel hopes it’s enough. He left his newspaper on the bench as you settled her in the car, making his jog across the street.

“You should buy blinds,” Miguel said the second you shut the door. You jumped, your hand on the locket on your chest.

“Ay dios, it’s just you. You shouldn’t walk up on a woman like that, Miguel,” you laughed. “Especially not a single mother.”

“You’re painfully oblivious. Buy some blinds for your room. It isn’t safe.”

Dry as his tone was, it was laced with concern. If there was no one in your life to tell you what he thought was obvious, he would. “You saw me? How much did you... see?”

He responds with a dull stare, his gaze falling to the red strap of your bra that set slightly off-kilter along your slight shoulders. You sucked in a breath to calm yourself, your heart beating at a rapid pace behind your modest shirt. You reached up to hide the strap. A frown marred his contrite features.

“You look beautiful in red,” he found himself muttering, pushing off of the back of the car without another word. He beat himself up for that-- stupid, stupid response. Because of course you know you look gorgeous. He didn’t need to say it out loud.

“Gracias, papi,” you called after him.

He hoped he was not flung into the creep category after that winning display.

You bought blinds for your window and a swing for Mimi’s new, sturdy tree. Its long arms offer some reprieve from the heat, casting a shadow on the small house. It wasn't long before you spent days on heaps of homework from the kids and a glitter-bright pen to grade spelling tests.

It's nice to have a little bit of company as he works on cars and yard work, even if you watch him like a voyeur, blushing if he notices, gasping if he plays into this new little game. At some point, he voided his shirts altogether. It’s not long before Gabriella has a game of her own to play.

“Psst, Lyla. Vente, Lyla.”

Gabriella sits boredly in the shop after school. Sometimes in his office, other times in the shop during breaks. One of his technicians, Lyla, sat on an upside-down bucket by Miguel’s side as he worked on a car. This time, it was a stupid simple fix. The idiot ripped off their bumper parking too far on a curb. Lyla sat in gold coveralls, undoubtedly grinning behind that black mask slapped across her face. He didn’t need to look away from the clips he was applying to know they were both up to shit.

“Yeah?”

“Papi has a crush on my teacher. I think she could be my new mami. If--”

“Miguel has a crush?” His other tech, Peter chirped up with a hunk of sandwich in his fingertips. How was he always slacking off and eating? Miguel didn't know, but he was. “I can't believe it. He hasn’t had a crush since Tem--”

“I don’t have a crush,” Miguel responded. “Less scheming, more homework, kid. She told me you’re behind on schoolwork.”

She does so well on spelling tests, Miguel, you told him at parent-teacher conferences. But she never turns in homework.

Gabriella was not behind because she was stupid. She was behind because she was a stubborn little child who, Miguel knew, was trying to set him up. Lyla abandoned the bucket to walk over near Gabriella’s unicorn table, pulling out a microsized table and looking down at the stupid simple homework. Single-digit numbers were a painful waste of time to a kid who loved math.

“She’s single?”

“Yup,” Gabi chirped, scratching away at her coloring page with a fat purple crayon. “Mimi told me.”

“No boyfriend?”

“No boyfriend. I double-checked. And get this, she said she would come help me with homework.”

“Lyla.” Miguel shoved the opposite end of the bumper in place, securing it carefully. Lyla was bent down by Gabriella. So Papi has more time to see her! Gabriella whispered. He may not know what you’re saying, but he knows it’s bad by the way she looks at him. As though she were a cat might with a glass it was about to shatter on the floor. “You can go home now.”

His daughter doesn’t need any more of her devilish attributes.

“You fucked it alright, mujer. What did you hit?”

Miguel twisted a bit of the sidewall between his fingers to gauge the depth of the hole. Never mind that the back passenger wheel whistled away until it ran flat. It wasn’t the first time someone brought him a car that was fucked. It was the first time you had.

You never asked him for anything, not at the price of your pride. You simply… made it work. Just like Miguel made childcare work by leaving his shop to pick Gabriella up and leaving her bored as fuck every weekday until he could close up shop.

Today, Mimi and Gabriella were inside, playing with dolls after a warm dinner of arroz blanco and fatty pork chops. He wasn’t much a fan of your sickly sweet platano, but he tried it tonight after Gabriella hounded him. Don’t be rude, papi! He’s gotten used to coming home on Wednesday to dinner. It’s something that he realizes he’s missed: having someone to come home to.

“A pothole,” you murmured shyly. His forehead rippled into wrinkles, holding the chunk of broken-off rubber between his fingertips. He rubbed the exhaustion out of his dark eyes, minding the nervous twiddling of your fingers.

“A pothole,” he repeated after you. No matter how many times he considered it, it did not fit. His body was ripe with aggravated energy. He’s too tired for this. The shit he’d seen in his shop and you expected him to believe that you hit-- a pothole? “Qué mierda.”

Miguel set his hands on his hip, rolled on his heel, and stepped back to inspect his future work. His body thrummed, a tightness pulling with the sight of your shy smile. The truth tittered on your luscious little lips.

“I may or may not have hit those rocks by Doña Díaz’s casita.” One look around the street revealed the chunky, pointy rocks you referenced. Miguel flicked the bit of rubber onto the top of the car and looked at you. You were guilty as the day was long. “They weren’t that far off the curb before! I know that it’s bad. Do you think you could-- fix it?”

“You’re going to have to replace those two,” Miguel gestured. “What, did you not see the massive rocks on the side of the road? What were you doing? Eres una mama, you have to pay attention, por dios. You could have been hurt.”

Your eyes darted to the wheels. The nervousness was strong, nearly all-consuming, bidding you to shut up. Though it was a good question, the shame that flecked your eyes was enough to cause Miguel to move on. He knew you were likely inattentive, your mind hovering somewhere else than the quiet cul-de-sac.

“I… had a bad date, Miguel. I was upset and dizzy and… Don’t tell anyone, please.”

The pain of being a woman. His eyes soften as he reaches out, his large hand warm on your slight shoulder. A pulse of warmth rushed through his hand as you leaned in, your cheek plastered to his stained top. He smelled of oil and sweat, but somehow, you find it comforting. Your hands come over his back, tugging on the dark coveralls.

“It’s alright,” Miguel sighed. He'd tell you not to pick shit men-- but sometimes, as he knew, that didn't matter at all. “I’ll have it fixed.”

“I don’t have that much money, Miguel,” you began. “I have to take care of the kids, my house, Mimi. I…”

“No te preocupes. You can do something else for me.”

You drew in a small, choked breath. The type that settled in your chest and did not leave. Not until Miguel’s arms wound over your waist to soothe you through the pain and pressed a kiss that lasted entirely too long to the top of your head. It’s the first time he wants another.

“She is dating,” Peter said. “You know what that means? It means you’re on a time crunch. She could always meet the one!”

"I'm not concerned about it."

The one, Miguel shook his head as he paced past the car he was propping up. He never heard anything more ludicrous. There was no such thing as the one. There was only a range of possibilities to pick from. At any point, life can happen. Then your one is gone-- and you’re left with only the memories and a body to bury. Still, as he clambered underneath the car, he found that he quite didn’t like the thought of you out with anyone else... especially not men who may or may not spike your drink.

“You should ask her to a date. Like, more than playing house with sticky kids and lasagna.”

“She’s never made me lasagna.”

Peter sloppily suckled on his fingers, the juice running down his thin wrists. “Then what was lunch?”

“Pastelón,” he answers bitterly. “It’s… plantain lasagna.”

“Okay, I thought you didn’t like--”

“I don't-- I eat it because she spends time on it.”

Peter sucked in a breath, eyes wide. He’s about to say something terribly unuseful, something like how Miguel has it bad. Miguel knows he does, half-formed images of what a family could be every day he went to pick Gabriella up, homework done, and happily fed. A feat in itself.

In place of that, though, were the car’s melded, mechanical squeals. He has but a moment and a half-formed plan that goes up in smoke the next second that it falls on his arm. He hears Peter’s half-formed, panicked shout to Lyla and recalls the flurry of steps and medical attention sometime later.

Admittedly, he did tell you to be careful.

When he wakes up, so does everyone else. Lyla chastizes him with her hands balled up on her hips, Peter sobs almost twice as much as Gabriella does until the two are dead asleep against his bed. Miguel’s eyes have rolled way too far.

“Is he finally asleep?” you peep into his heavy hospital door with a ginger knock of your knuckles. Miguel throws a look at Peter’s squishy face, half slumped over.

“Hermosa, I thought he’d never stop,” he grumbled.

“You scared him.”

Tch. Miguel watched you pick up Gabriella, settling her on the stiff pull-out bed. He foggily asked you what time it was, close to the end of visiting hours. He’d need to arrange something for Gabi with Lyla taking care of the shop. It itched at his throat.

“Gabi too. Should I…”

“Take her home for me,” he grumbled. “I’ll be back tomorrow. It’s just a broken arm.”

“You coughed up blood, Miggy. You could have died if Peter wasn’t there.”

Miggy. You finally used the nickname somewhere between Wednesday dinner dates and a car slumping on him. Miguel throws a growl to the side, using his non-fucked hand to pet the top of Peter’s head. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew you were right.

“What happens if… something happens to you?”

“With Gabi?” he asks.

"Sí. With everything."

You nod, looking idly at his little daughter, still in her school clothes. You brought her as soon as school was over, soothed the panic in her voice, the thought of becoming an orphan just because the car had cracked his arm. She wouldn’t have remembered her mother’s death, it was far too long ago now.

“Lyla. Why the face? If you’re jealous, know that was the agreement with my wife before she was murdered.”

You hadn’t known you were making a face, but you were to the trained eye. Some small pout of your lip, tears welling at the corner of your eyes. Miguel shoves himself up on the bed, straining sore muscles. It was going to be a long night. A longer month or two until he was up and running again.

“I’m not making a face. It's just... You were reckless when you're usually so careful. I'm wondering why. I'm sorry.”

"It's fine," Miguel urged you to come closer. "Come here."

You slid into his chair, tentatively sneaking your hand on top of his. Miguel wanted to tell you more. There was not another friend nearly so close, one that would take care of everything and anything he needed. He's suddenly aware of his situation. It would be difficult to make a woman secure that he'd not tied down yet. You clearly care-- based on the insecurity in your eyes.

You’re on a time crunch. She could always meet the one.

He doesn't want to miss his shot. He brought your hand to his lips, straining with a pained little grunt. You stood up to help him, allowing his lips to flutter over the back of your hand in a small kiss at his urging.

“Trust me. She’s not a threat,” he said. “You’ll take Gabi with you?”

“Of course, Miggy. Anything you need.”

Securing a relationship would just have to wait.

The first day back, Miguel sent Gabriella off with Lyla. Mimi is off with her papa, leaving you with nothing but time. He finally saw his projects through without Peter loitering over his shoulder, revitalizing cars with bad radiators and fizzled-out air compressors. As if Peter was the boss and he were the employee. The grease under his fingers feels more like Miguel than any squeaky clean shower you’ve helped him take. Yes, you’ve helped him take. He could have asked Lyla or Peter, but why over-extend their lives when you lived in his home for the past month to take care of Gabriella anyway?

He wonders what you thought, stripping him down to nothing, seeing his naked thighs, watching him clean sensitive bits that, as you lied, you were not looking at. He finds it cute, the way you tried to look away, but of course-- you always snuck a look. You’re nosy by nature. He’s never been ashamed of his body, though. For all the work you did, he thinks you deserve a look.

“Miggy,” you slipped through the side door, your heels clicking over a greased-up floor. He hopes you don’t fall, arms deep in the hood of a shiny dark blue convertible. It’s nearly perfect. “I got your message. You said we need to talk?”

“Don’t slip.”

Miguel whirled a wrench into its place, slammed the hood shut, and rubbed the grease on his hands together. Like it will come off his callouses. Miguel meets you half way, offering you his greased up hand. You look down at his hand, then up to Miguel again. He half thinks you won’t take it, but you do, allowing him to whirl you in a spin before lifting you on top od the hood of the car.

“Ay Miggy--” you cursed, looking down at the car. It shone bright, its smooth metal cold under your bare thighs. He pins you in place as you attempt to wiggle off, nearly jiggling your way onto his lap. “The owner will be mad--”

“It’s mine and I’m not.” He explains. “I know what I want.”

“You want…?”

“For the work on your car.” It’s cute how clueless you act, holding your breath as his fingers course past your bare thighs. You barely manage to choke the words out, your hands inching on his. He replaces himself between your thighs. You both know that you more than made up for the few hundred dollars in repairs with the work you’d done for him in a month. Holding your breath, you nod.

“Tell me.”

“I want a night with you.”

You didn’t know what to say, leaning your trembling fingers up to the bits of dark brown hair that accentuated the wrinkles on the corner of his eyes. You met his eyes, trained on your own, challenging you to respond. Words formed in a mishmash of nonsense on your tongue. You take the chance to press your lips on his, your hand suddenly cradling the side of his face for some stability. You were hardly comfortable on his car, but Miguel didn’t seem to care, biding your lower lip to open and let him in. You relinquish, savoring the distant taste of roasted coffee on his tongue, his fingers teasing along your thighs.

“That’s not an answer,” Miguel pulled back from your lips for an instant. He graces your neck with soft kisses, leaving the occasional bite and tug just in case-- he doesn’t need another man thinking he has so much as a chance. Your big man pins you down onto the car like you were weightless, any willingness to inch away tempered by his mass.

“Depends,” you answered. “I want this to be an every night kind of thing.”

“Consider it a trade.” He chuckled against your neck, the heat from his lips traveled across the valley of your breasts. You complied with his desire and let him slip your breasts free from your romper. His mouth closed his mouth over your nipple. His greasy hands melded your breasts between his desperate hands, tongue prodding your nipple fat. Your legs met his hungry performance by pulling him forward, his scratchy belt against your clothed cunt.

“Careful,” he teased. His hand fell to his bulge, unbuttoning his stained pants. You watched him pull himself free, pulling panties and romper alike to the side of your lips. Your lips parted, much like that very first day you met him, sundered by the sight of his cock. This time, fully hard. He doesn’t enter your cunt-- no, he’s patient, slotting himself between your folds for a teasing grind. His dick twitched in response, eager to finally fuck you. “You’ll fall off.”

“It’s your fault. You could have asked over dinner.” He greets your complaint with a nod, flicking your other breast. He envelops the other nipple between his mouth, his teeth grazing along the sensitive skin. You take a long breath, hips leaning up against his firm length.

“Like that would be anything new. We always have dinner,” Miguel murmured in protest. “A far better use of our time is soaking your pretty cunt with my cum on this car before dinner.”

He felt your cunt clench at nothing. His hips, thrusting against your mound, nudged over your wet little folds, knocked against your greedy clit. Before you could respond, Miguel popped off your nipple again, “You like that thought? Going to dinner leaking?”

“Miggy, por dios,” you complained. “Stop dry humping and give it to me.”

He huffed darkly, snatching one of your thighs and leaning back. He spreads your lips, inspecting his work. You were wet, but not just wet, soaking his car. Miguel brought his other palm to wipe your wetness away, jerking himself with the fluid. He tests your reaction by nudging the head of his cock against your unprepared hole.

“Miguel,” you bit out, this time a warning.

“Ya te oigo,” Miguel loomed over you, pinning your shoulder back to his glistening car. You don’t debate him on that, allowing him to say whatever he wants if it would just get him inside. Miguel relinquishes control, pushing inside of your tightness. He bit back a groan, pushing past your body’s resistance, throbbing against your core. Your hands fisted his dirty shirt, cunt split wide on his cock, and glad for it.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his hands securing themselves on your hips. He gives you a moment to catch your breath before he pulls nearly free, slamming forth just a moment later. Breath punched out of your throat, his cock rocking your cunt nice and full. You loved this-- looking beautiful and full just for him. He knew it too, “Hermosa.”

Miguel held his arm tight around your thigh, holding you flush against his rutting hips. His balls slapped your ass, pulling tight. You were distantly aware of his thumb at your clit, leaning your hips into his thrusts the best you could. You could only squirm to keep yourself upright on his car despite feeling your body sliding into his. His thumb worked in insistent, tight circles, forcing the pleasure to burrow in your low belly, tightening over him. It’s no marker of your performance, you think, hoping he’d give you another chance to be anything but a toy on his cock.

“No, no puedo--” you whined, your hands dipping under his shirt to scratch at his finely cut muscles, knowing you were about to gush.

“Do it,” Miguel grunts in response, his thumb more insistent. You’re not entirely proud of the way you came, creaming his cock desperately. He held strong, smothering his own groans if only for the pleasure of hearing your passionate cries. You come to moments after, Miguel’s thrusts now intent on his own pleasure.

“Come on, papi,” you worshipped. “Cum in me.”

“Fuck,” Miguel complied, his dirty nails causing sharp indentions on your thigh and hip. His sticky cum fills you in a few deep thrusts, each more forceful than the last, and he’s spent. If he was dirty before, he was filthy now. Miguel catches your lips in a lingering kiss, going soft in your body. He knew the second he pulled out your cum was soaking his now-dented car.

His eyes peeled open to find your gaze on him, tracing fresh superficial scratches on his belly. Of course, you are-- you’re a hungry addict. Miguel pulled himself free and looked for a cloth that wasn’t grease soaked to clean your cunt with. You piece yourself together and slide off his car.

“Let’s go.”

“¿Qué?” he zips himself back into his pants.

“You promised me dinner.”

He sighs-- just as long as it wasn’t lasagna.

There’s something attractive about your love of children.

He thinks it’s likely because he’s never had that himself. His mother was a beast of a woman. Never affectionate. At least, not with him. After his wife’s subsequent death, life proceeded in a vacuum. The years passed: first one. Then six. Then he was here, holding a bundle of jewel-bright roses against an uncharacteristically clean button-up, walking down the dull blue carpet of the beige hallway to the pod that usually held the kids. For all the days you tolerated him smeared and slathered, you deserved a good display.

They were usually alight with noise, rambling on about their latest toy or prattling on about a mommy that Gabriella just did not have. The more she grew, the more important it became to have that for her-- maybe it was more for himself. Today, that hall was dead of life.

“Gabi, I hear your papi,” you called from somewhere inside. He hears her subsequent pitter-patter of feet across the carpet, popping out with Mimi from the door before he can open it. Miguel cocked his head, a sigh working on his lips. They whirled the door shut. Gabi bolted to your would-be desk and slapped her tanned palms on the tabletop.

“Maestra, maestra!”

Ah, damn it all. Miguel’s hand hovers around the knob, chewing on the next thought. He couldn’t really blame the kid for what she was about to say, because he knew exactly what she was about to do.

“¿Mande?”

“I have something to tell you, it’s really important. Papi likes you, did you know my papi really, really likes you?”

There’s a pause. Then a slight, amused giggle from Mimi. It’s short-lived as he pulls open the door, loathing this dumb thing called Teacher’s Week that leaves him with a bundle of flowers and instant regret.

“Sí, Gabriella. I know he does. I like him too. He’s so cute.”

If he weren’t so dark, he’d worry about the flush in his face with the embarrassment of being outed by his little girl. He stares at your hands on Gabriella’s, then at the small sea of desks and colorful name tags to break some of the tension, hardening his face to shield it from the embarrassment. Was he really so obvious?

“Hola Miggy.”

You scoot out of your chair.

“Hola,” he sighs, remembering he was holding flowers. He slides them into your hands, hooking his hands on his slender hips. “This is… Gabi wanted to give you flowers.”

“I never said that,” she chirped, bouncing his way. “You said--”

“Gabriella.” Miguel hisses, his tone sharp at her interjection. She goes dead silent by Mimi's side, staring up at him with watery eyes. He jerks his head in the direction of the quartet of desks she sits at. “Go get your things.”

“I think Papi is embarrassed,” you whisper, crouching down to rub her little back, soothing down her milky white top. “I’ll talk to him and make it better, okay? Go with Mimi.”

“Okay.”

Mimi bounded off behind Gabi, stuffing her bag with her colorful work and chunky crayons. Miguel exhaled air, staring at her powdery blue backpack for something other than the complete and utter embarrassment that yet someone else had called him out. If it wasn't Peter, it was his daughter.

Had he been this obvious the whole time?

“Don’t be too hard on her tonight,” He peered down at you, small in the grand scheme of his height and musculature. You pecked a small kiss on his lips, stroking his week-old stubble, just enough to cool Miguel’s teetering nerves. “It’ll be better when she finds out.”

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3lushkiii · 2 months

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Soaked nightmare - Part 2

Modern!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis: after letting your ex-boyfriend into your home, sweet nothing leave his lips so easily it makes you question why you even split.

Cw:Substances, alcohol, mentions of other self-destructive shenanigans.

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Your words die on your tongue, your hands safely in Sukunas grip as gentle crimson eyes look up at you. Because he needs you he says, because he loves you he says. He didn’t need you that day, he made it abundantly clear how fine he was without you nagging at him. But he misses you, he’d do anything to have you back. Whatever the cost.

“You don’t need me, don’t be ridiculous.”

“How do ya know that I don’t?”

“You made it pretty clear, Sukuna.”

“Am i not being clear now?” He asks, inked arm hooking around your waist as he brings you closer. His inked fingers are splayed on your lower back, his forehead on your abdomen as he shuts his eyes tight. “I need ya, damnit.” He breathes out, fingers curling around the fabric of your pajamas as his brows furrow. He hates you being this wisp of smoke, hates that he can never fully have you in his hands. He hates that he knows you’re contemplating whether to pull away or not.

“You don’t.” You sigh, arms at your sides, frozen at his gentle touch. You’ve almost forgotten. Forgotten how he holds you like fine china, like you’re a piece of porcelain. He holds you like you’re precious, the most important thing to him. And you are, to your dismay.

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Why won’t you just listen to me?” He sneers, arm tightening around you as he speaks. Damn you and your beautiful hard headedness. Hes being so clear, he needs you, point blank. “M’ a fucking mess withoutcha, can’t you tell?” He spits out, words a mix of sheer desperation and the tiniest sliver of anger. He’s trying so hard to be sweet, but maybe he needs to yell to get this in your head.

“I know i put my hands on ya, hell, you probably don’t want to hear shit from me.” He whispers, head resting against you as he tries to quell the loud voice in his head telling him to just shove his words down your throat, or his tongue, and make you listen. “Still ain’t over what we had, still miss wakin’ up to your pretty face.” He scoffs, relishing in the closeness between you two. He’s missed your warmth, missed being able to admit how much of a monster he is and being met with nothing but boundless empathy. He missed everything about you, found himself daydreaming of you like a teenager. You as his wife, you at the beach, at your honeymoon, painting a nursery, going on dates, anything.

“This isn’t proving your point. As i said—you’re hurting and you miss me. You don’t need me.”

“Tch.” Sukuna clicked his tongue in frustration, a voice like sandpaper sounding so gentle towards you it’s surprising. “Thats bullshit. Since when have i not needed ya?” He says, voice falling quiet as he’s at a loss for words. He’s never been good with words before. He’d kiss you to show you how much he’s missed you, but thats not right for the moment. He’d fuck you to show you how much he yearns for you, but it’s not the time for that. He doesn’t know what the time for anything is anymore.

“Sukuna—“

“‘M not good at this mushy shit,” he admits lowly, a hand going through his now dry pink locks. Taking a shuddering breath, he tilts his head up to meet your gaze. “I fucked up real bad, never shoud’ve put my hands on ya, baby.” He says, scarred knuckles against his lips to prevent any profanities from spilling out. Not towards you, no. Towards himself, but he knows how much you hate when he gets into that self-deprecating state. He decides its best to just say what hes thinking.

“Im drinking,” he blurts out abruptly. If he gets you concerned, maybe he can guilt trip you a little into coming back. He knows it’s wrong, but he really is drinking, he needs you. Needs you to yell at him and scold him.

“Again? Why?” You chide, hands on his shoulders as you involuntarily squeeze his tense muscles, earning a soft groan from Sukuna. “I thought you quit.”

“I did, for a time.” He shrugs his shoulders, his nonchalant demeanor betraying the level of shit he’s going through all by his own accord. “But fuck, when it gets cold and dark out, i cant think of shit but you.” He mumbles against your skin, lowering his head in a weird shame. He wants to crawl in your skin and never leave, he wants to pull your shirt up, shove his head underneath it and fall asleep just like that. “You were with me when no one else was…to give a shit whether i lived or died.” He confesses, voice shaky as he clutches onto you like you’re his lifeline. He’s leaving his cracked, vile and filthy heart in your pristine hands to see if he’ll feel any semblance of tranquility, even for a moment.

“Sukuna, people do give a shit, not just me. Your brother’s, they’d be crushed if something happened to you.” You say softly, getting the hint of his current state. He’s struggling, struggling with the guilt of losing you, the one person who he believes saw him.

“Brothers got their own shit to do. Barely see ‘em as is lately.” He mumbles, voice hoarse like he’s ripping the words from his throat instead of speaking. “Choso’s in college, Yuujis in high-school havin’ the time of his life—“ Sukuna sighs, breath shaky as he speaks. “It’s different, they’re my brothers.” He says. “But you… fuck, made me feel like i deserved to be cared for too, y’know?” He scoffs, nearly mocking himself at the sheer stupidity of it all. He drove you away, and now he tosses away his pride just to have you back. “Like maybe… i dunno, i could learn to be better or some shit.”

He presses a hand over his eyes. Trying to ignore the tears threatening to well in his eyes. Your smell, your voice, all of it sends him spiraling. He’s been a mess without you, “im not used to bein’ alone anymore,” he mutters, letting our a deep breath, wrapping both of his arms around you as he breathes steadily. His forehead is rested against your abdomen, large hands holding you infront of him as he basks in your presence like you’re ambrosia breathing divinity into his scarred mortal body.

It was true his brothers cared for him deeply, despite his prickly attitude and tendency to be a little bitch. But you were different. His brothers have no choice than to love him, they’re his family. But you loved him at his worst, chose to look at him voluntarily. You chose him. And it still sucks when on the special occasions he sees his brothers, they ask about you.

How is she?

Haven’t seen her in a while!

You didn’t argue, did you?

You look sad, something happen with your girlfriend?

“You’re clinging onto the past, you’ve gotta look forward.” You say, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as you give him a little pat. He needs it. But he cant look forward, not when you are the thing he looks back at.

You’re his Eurydice, he can’t help but look back. When the love of his life is gone and he remain the same monster, how could he ever remain looking forward when your steps grown quiet, when he cannot tell if hes actually getting you back, or being led forward without you? Being tricked to live life without your presence. Who is Orpheus without his Eurydice?

“Past is all i got,” Sukuna utters, looking up between curtains of pink hair as his eyes your face. “That’s where you are.” He say, nuzzling his face into you abdomen as he breathes you in. God, he wants you back. He’d sever his own hands just to make sure he never hurt you again, anything to ensure you felt comfortable with him again.

The silence gnaws at him, he senses your apprehension, towards him, towards what he’s implying. He’s such a mess. He feels like a dog, an animal. Whats that one saying? Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. Why the hell did he do that? Hurt the one thing keeping him tethered to this stupid place. He can’t put into words how he used to feel when he gazed at you. Saw a million lives in your eyes, a trillion possibilities, a billion things you could do together.

He doesn’t see anything in his reflection, not a damn thing. He sees the scars, the tattoos, the cold features, the empty gaze. He stands in his bathroom staring at himself, remembering the days you’d come in all sleepy, wrap your arms around his waist, call him handsome and pepper kisses on his shoulder. The only time he ever saw anything in his wretched reflection was when your pretty face was perched on his shoulder with that cheeky smile on your lips.

What is there to Sukuna when there is no you?

“Sukuna, you’ve gotta let go.” You say, your tone exasperated. You’re tired of your heart shattering each time you see him, tired of having to stare at the face of the man you love and deny him. You might just break.

“I know.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Cause’ i can’t. Gotta be yours again, i need it—need you.” He repeats his reasoning for the millionth time, eyes screwed shut, breaths uneven and shallow as he remains there, muscular arms acting like a belt around you.

“Sukuna, i—“ you pause, hands gently finding their rightful place in his hair, making his breath hitch. He lets out a shaky breath, raw and vulnerable. Your mere touch might be enough to derail him, send him begging like a child, on his knees and everything “How will i make sure you won’t get mad again?”

Sukuna tenses at the words, sensing the anxiety behind them. He leans his head up into your touch, “I’ll never lay a hand on ya again,”

“Sukuna that doesn’t—“

“Let ya cut my hands off, i swear to ya.” He utters, the raw tone of his voice stunning you. He’s serious, dead serious. “You’ve got my permission to cut em off if i dare raise a hand to you.” He laughs, finally letting his little quip be evident. Its the thought that counts, right?

“Thats… its not funny.” You say, moving your hands to rest on his broad shoulders, a sour expression on your face.

“Totally funny.”

“Its scary, you’d probably do it.”

“You know me so well, baby.” Sukuna coos, gently taking your hand as he brushes his lips across the tip of each finger. He glances up at you, eyes locked as he speaks once more. “Let me be yours again,” he utters softly, the calloused pad of his thumb brushing the top of your handz

“Ill get better for ya’. I’ll quit drinking, quit the drugs, all of it.”

“Drugs?”

“Did i forget to mention that? My bad, baby.”

“God, you’re a mess.”

“Your mess.” He says with a signature devilish grin, looking up at you as he awaits any words. Any confirmation you’ll be his again. He’s doing his best to get you back, to charm you. He just needs you.

“You promise?”

“Promise what?”

“Promise you’ll be better if i come back.”

“Does that mean you’re comin back to me?”

“Answer the question.”

“I’ll try, can’t handle losin’ ya again.” Sukunas playful tone drops under your caring gaze, only tenderness remaining. “I know i fucked up bad… but I’m willing to do anythin for ya.” He says, choking up as he speaks. The situation is looking up, and he’s nearly moved to tears. He knows damn well what hell do if you take him back.

He’s planned everything out in his head from all the times he was blackout drunk and day dreaming. Hell put a ring on your pretty finger, tie you to him, actually tie you to him. Hell get a better job, make sure you never stress, keep you happy. Quit killing himself, he would never shorten his time with you there. He’d want to live all his years with you, but he’d like to die before you if possible. He wouldn’t be able to see you die. You’re thinking too far into the future, Sukuna.

“Hell, ill quit drinking, quit smoking, just say the word,baby.”

“You’re quitting.”

“Im quitting.”

You smile softly, despite the situation. Big bad Sukuna has returned to your life, softer than ever. But even a bigger mess. “Missed you,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around his neck. You’re taking him back, and Sukuna just melts as soon as the words leave your pretty lips. He catches his breath, arms clutching to pull you close. “Fuck… been dying to hear you say that’” he says, tone shaky as he hugs you tight. Theres no use in him telling you he missed you, he’s made that abundantly clear.

He’s gotten his Eurydice back. He went into the underworld, determined to fetch your soul so you’d be together again. And the tender care in your eyes, the softness of your hands, he can’t express his joy. He loves you, loves you dearly. Hell never leave you again.

This is definitely his wife. Totally his wife. Past, present, future.

He notices it when he walks home, kicking off his shoes as he nearly collapses at the doorstep. “M home.” He calls out to no one in particular, sultry voice ringing out through your cozy apartment as he’s jolted to his senses by a loud clanging noise.

“Hon, you good?” His eyebrows perk up, rushing to the kitchen to investigate the source of the noise. He finds you there, a large pan on the floor thats fallen out of your cabinet. “God, scared me.” He sighs in relief, walking over to you as he picks up the pan in his large hand, putting it on the kitchen counter. You stand there in your little apron, experimenting with your cooking like usual as he approaches you. He pulls you in, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before he melts onto you.

“Tired?”

“Mhm.” He hums, resting his forehead against your shoulder as he remains there, still in uniform.

“Had an arrest today, fucker ran so damn fast i think i dislocated my hip.” He groans, fingers fidgeting with the little bow you tied on the back of your apron. “Was just like how i was a few years ago.”

“Thats why you’re so gloomy?” You inquired softy, your hand going up to carefully caress his cheek, the metal of your wedding band cool against his skin. Even the sight of it on your finger has Sukuna giddy. “Mhm.” He hums once more, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I think i lost my ring.”

“What?!”

“Kidding.” He laughs, pressing more kisses to your face. He likes the shock on your face when he tells you that. It reminds him he’s your husband, you’re his wife, and you don’t play about your wedding rings. He never thought that he would go from being your boyfriend, to a troubled young-adult, to your boyfriend again, than your husband. You saved him, you truly did. Turned that fuck-up of a man into a real person. He’s a cop, he’s a husband, his relationship with his brothers is better than ever—all because of you. His sweet, wonderful, goddesses of a wife.

“I’d never lose our ring. What type of husband would i be then?” He says with a cheeky grin, raising his hand with the matching wedding band. It’s almost stupid how much he likes it. Sometimes you catch Sukuna staring at it without him knowing. “Alright, alright, quit it.” You giggle, swatting his hand away jokingly as you turn back to the kitchen. “Take my bun out of the oven.”

“Yes ma’am.” Your words don’t register in Sukunas head, and he just turns to the oven to take your ‘bun’ out. He can’t catch the wordplay at all. “Hon, this is a loaf.” He says, taking your loaf of regular wheat bread out of the oven in total confusion. “This is a loaf of bread.” He states, “The hell is it in the oven for?”

“Baby. Its a bun.”

“This is clearly a loaf of bread.”

“Sukuna! A bun. A bun in the oven.” You point to the loaf of bread you’ve dubbed a ‘bun’ to emphasize your point. It’s supposed to be a metaphoric bun, because there weren’t any at the grocery store.

“Baby, this is clearly a loaf—“ he says, eyes widening as the realization sets in. A bun in the oven? He turns to you.

“What?”

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#sukuna ryomen #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #husband sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk x you #jjk fluff #fluff

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repulsiveliquidation · 7 months

Text

Arsenal’s Number 6

Leah Williamson x Reader, Part 3 of Fore! (double update today, wow)

Part 1 | Part 2

Leah’s ACL has healed and it’s her first game back. (let us pretend she’s back, eh?)

word count : 2k

warnings : fluff with smut at the end.

“Leah you’re going to be late!”

“I know! Just can’t fucking find my fucking–oh there it is.”

You’re holding up her kit bag, having had to put it away yesterday since she dumped it at the front door and didn’t clean it. You had cleared out her smelly training kit and cleaned her shoes, dusting out the grass at the bottom and replenishing it with all her essentials. It was where it went; in the cupboard by the door but she refused to put it in there so she never knew where it was when you picked up after her.

“I don’t know what I’d do without ya, pretty girl.”

“You’d be a mess, baby. A hot, fucking, mess. Come on, I’ll drop you off.”

“Your missus coming to the game Sunday?” asked McCabe in the changing room. They were packing up to go home, Jonas had let the girls know that the trainers had cleared Leah for her first game back since her ACL on Sunday against Brighton. Screams and cheers filled the room, all the girls glad to have Leah back on the pitch. She hadn’t stopped smiling, glad to finally be back where she belongs. But Katie’s question makes her smile fall.

“She’s probably going to be busy. She has students.”

“Bullshit Leah, Y/N knows how much this means to you.”

“I’ll maybe only be playing a couple minutes, there’s no point.”

“Leah, what’s this about?”

“Can we just drop it, please?”

Everyone leaves her alone at her request, squeezing her shoulder as they filter out. She had been waiting for this day to come and now that it’s here she’s terrified. Doubt fills her mind as she fears that she will make mistakes and cost the team. She’s scared that once she’s back she won’t be the same as she was before. She’s scared that Arsenal won’t want her if she isn’t back to 100% fitness. She’s scared that you’ll be disappointed and leave. You can’t leave. It would kill her more than never playing football again. She starts to hyperventilate, the room spinning as she tries to catch her breath. She’s desperately clutching her chest when she feels familiar hands grab hers and pull her into a firm chest. She’s shaking, the smell of you filling her nostrils.

“Easy baby, it’s okay. You’re safe, Leah. It’s just me, I’ve got you.”

It takes a few more minutes for her breathing to regulate and for her to stop shaking. You wipe her tears away and hold her face. You smile softly and kiss her, which makes her melt into your touch. Fresh tears prickle at her eyes as you pull her to sit in your lap.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

She takes a while to answer you, trying her best to calm herself. You rub her back and don’t rush her, softly cooing at her as she is finally able to catch her breath.

“Please don’t leave me.” She says quietly, looking up at you with sad eyes. You cup her cheeks and look down at her, face full of concern.

“What’s given you that idea, darling?” you ask her, wiping her tears away. She’s puffy and has snot running down her face, yet you can’t find a flaw on her face.

“They cleared me to play on Sunday.”

“That’s great news, love. What’s making you upset then?”

“I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Oh Leah, even if you didn’t play I would be so proud of you.”

“You’re too important to me to be a disappointment.”

“I will be proud of you no matter what. That’s my job. Other than being the world’s best girlfriend. You’re my world in this equation, which makes me the best girlfriend. Who’s the real winner here?”

“Me, obviously.”

“There’s my cheeky girl, I’ve missed her.”

“I love you.”

It takes you by surprise, the love in her eyes is almost replaced with pain till you grab her face and kiss her searingly.

“I love you too, Leah.”

You’re making dinner, a sad, bland chicken burger for Leah (she drools which is unbelievable) and a nice steak for yourself. She asked for a couple bites of your steak which you feed her but politely decline a bite of her chicken burger (honestly, not even a little spice, Lee?)

You’re both sharing a bottle of wine with an Arsenal game on the tv when Leah suddenly muted the tv. She never missed one moment of a game and it took you by surprise.

“You can say no.”

“You really need to stop saying that. Anything you want I will make happen baby.”

“I-I want you there on Sunday.”

“I was going to be.”

“No, not as another face in the crowd. As in like there in the family section with a family pass around your neck. With my name on your back.”

“Nothing would make me happier. Well, maybe marrying you could come close second, we’ll see.”

You laugh at your own joke and miss the look or pure adoration on Leah’s face. She wants to make that happen, she knew in that moment that she was marrying you one day.

“Subbing in for the first time since April, Arsenal’s Number 6, Leah Williamson!” you heard the announcer say. There was only 5 minutes left in the game but proud didn’t even begin to express how you were feeling. Seeing her waiting by the sidelines, she caught your eye as you were sat in the family section with Amanda. “I love you,” you mouthed as she did the same at the same time. You had tears in your eyes, watching her smiling, so happy to be back on the pitch. She’s getting a standing ovation, the gooners happy to have their beloved captain back.

It was just a little tester of her headspace, gauging her readiness to be back on the pitch. She played flawlessly; she was back to being a force to be reckoned with. When the final whistle blew, Arsenal walked away with a win (a/n MANIFESTING), the girls from both teams congratulating her on her return. She was positively buzzing, her cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

You were nervously waiting in the changing room for her, Amanda wanting to see her on the pitch instead. She finally walked in, still grinning as wide as she could. She ran over to you, hugging you and spinning you around.

“You did it baby!”

“All thanks to you, pretty girl.”

You kissed her hard, the whole room cheering and teasing the both of you. You didn’t care, the both of you in a world or your own. She took a shower and got changed before you walked out to her car, hand in hand swinging happily. The whole drive home was filled with comfortable silence; you held her hand that was in your lap and softly rubbed her arm. She leaned over and kissed you at traffic lights, hand rubbing your thigh teasingly. You knew what she was insinuating and gave into her.

“You did so well baby, I’m so proud of you.”

“You look so hot with my name on your back.”

“Mrs. Y/N Williamson does have a nice ring to it.”

“We’re making that happen one day, pretty girl. Right now, I want to ravish you.”

You stumbled into the house, hands pulling clothes off each other impatiently. Riley was confused but totally stole Leah’s training shirt to bite on. You didn’t care, all you could think about was Leah. She picked you up like you weighed nothing, walking to your bedroom and locking the door. She threw you onto the bed, eyes dark with desire. Her lips were on yours instantly, kissing you dizzying hard. She crawled onto the bed slowly, pinning your arms above your head as she sucked noisily at your neck. You whined, core aching for her touch.

She ripped your undergarments off, mouth latching onto your breast. She bit and sucked, a growl leaving the back of her throat. She switched breasts, hands kneading them hard. You cried out in pain and pleasure, her grunts becoming more and more impatient sounding. “Fuck, turn over.” You obey her, arching your back more as she spanks your ass. She straddles your thighs, biting all over your back and taking off the rest of her clothes. She hisses when her clit grazes your thigh, grabbing your ass and spreading it roughly. She groans, leaning in and eating you out. You squeal and whine, hand reaching back to cradle her head the best you can. She man-handles you to perch your ass up, burying her face between your legs to lick and suck at you the best she can. She growls into your folds, slurping your sweet nectar like a hungry bear. You can only cry out her name and grip the sheets, her mouth assaulting you exactly how you like.

She suddenly stops and lays back, legs opening for you. “Come here,” she says with authority and you swoon at her demanding tone. You make no protest, settling yourself between her legs and wait for further instruction. “Make me cum,” she says with that same force, you can only oblige and lean in to slurp at her soaking folds.

The tone of authority in her voice and that signature focused face was more than enough to make your pussy throb with a need like no other. You obediently slurp and suckle on her folds, her hands making a home in your hair as she practically rode your face. You whine and slip your tongue into her, alongside two fingers. She yelps and moans your name, begging you for release. It only makes you work harder, tongue-fucking her as your nose buries itself in her clit. She screams your name and cums, legs trembling so violently. She smiles dopily, pulling you up and kissing you hard. You taste each other on your lips, both moaning into each other’s mouths.

“Want the strap, pretty girl?”

“Fuck yes, Leah.”

“Tell me what you want, babygirl.”

“Want you to fuck me, Leah. Please.”

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? You gonna be a good girl for me, Y/N?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl.”

“On all fours.”

You listen, pulling yourself up into that position. She pulls out the strap and puts it on, lubing it up a little before getting back on the bed behind you. She lines herself up and pushes in slowly, feeling resistance she kisses down your back, spanking your ass a few times before thrusting shallowly. You open up for her, moaning her name loudly as she now begins to really pound into you. Her hands have an iron grip on your hips, pulling you back onto her cock. She moans like she can feel it, loving the look of your ass slapping against her hips.

“Fuck, r-right there Leah!”

“Yeah? You want my cock right there, darling?”

“Y-Yes! Fuck, please!”

She pounds into you harder, angling her hips up to hit your spot. She spanks your ass a few more times before you curse and beg for her to let you cum.

“Please Leah!”

“Come on my cock baby, there’s a good girl.”

You come hard, legs trembling and chest heaving. She fucks you through it, lips muttering profanities at you as you come down from your high. She pulls out and kisses you, taking off the strap and maneuvering you into her arms.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Thank you for coming out to watch me today.”

“I don’t think I’ll be missing a game anytime soon, Lee.”

#woso soccer #woso imagine #leah williamson #engwnt #leah williamson imagine #leahwilliamson x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader

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tyunkus · 1 year

Text

amazon wishlist — kang taehyun

pairing: roommate!kang taehyun x afab!reader summary: your roommate and best friend, taehyun, finds a dildo on your amazon wishlist.

wc: 5.5k

warnings: masturbation, dry humping, dirty talk (praise, some degradation), pet names (princess, angel, baby, pretty), like One spank, teasing/humiliation?, penetrative, safe sex, mention of cunnilingus and handjob, also unrealistic because taehyun games here but. let me live my gamer bf dreams ok?

note: originally wrote this in 3rd person and then had to manually change it to 2nd person so sorry for any mistakes ! also still figuring how this site works so sorry for the plain formatting. i dont actually know if amazon sells dildos, and if they cost $30? probably not but yk... artistic liberty... capitalism...

There’s no chicken.

You notice this one Friday afternoon in the middle of July, while the pavements outside sizzle from the heat and the sun spills through the windows and warms up your back. You’re in the kitchen, sifting through a pathetic heap of frozen food. Usually, you head to the nearby supermarket after pilates class to pick up a pack of bacon; other times, Taehyun comes home after a day with Kai bearing a bag of frozen wedges. Either way, it’s clear that neither of you have bought anything edible since your last grocery run two weeks ago.

Frozen french fries. Korean corndogs. A half-empty pack of fishcakes. No chicken.

You open the fridge, eyes skimming over its meager contents, as if it would be there. It isn’t. You open the freezer again, wondering if the gods above would be so gracious as to summon some chicken breast into your freezer to feed you and your roommate tonight. They don’t.

“Maybe we should go grocery shopping.”

You’re fresh from a long, elaborate shower. Your hair falls in wet tresses over your shoulders and you’re clad in dolphin shorts and a big shirt that might have been Taehyun’s but you borrowed so often and for so long that he probably forgot it ever belonged to him. It’s your turn to cook dinner and you’re grumbling over the fact that Taehyun cooked your only remaining pack of chicken breast last night when you hear his bedroom door click open.

Just in time. A shitty rap song follows the sound of the soft padding of his footsteps against the floor. “Hey, you home?” he calls from halfway down the hallway, but you cut him off before he can say anything else.

“I told you I would cook chicken and you still finished it last night, and now there’s nothing for me to cook, asshole,” you say, more exasperated than angry. You turn around just as he walks in, wearing nothing but black joggers and his obnoxious RGB headset. His eyes are wide and bashful. You wrinkle your nose and turn around again. “What happened to your shirt?”

Taehyun has the decency to sound sheepish. “Sorry, I was playing with the boys,” he mumbles, like that wasn’t painfully obvious already. You have no problem with seeing Taehyun or shirtless guys by themselves, but a shirtless Taehyun has you torn between wanting to throw up and throwing away your clothes. Maybe to other people having a first-class view of his washboard abs sounds like a blessing, but to you, it’s only a level below mental distress.

“Tell Kai I said hi,” you say absently, now going through your drawers for restaurant flyers (if worse comes to worst, you’ll order takeout for tonight). “Anyway, what’d you come outside for?”

“I needed to talk to you about something.”

At this, you peer over your shoulder, studying Taehyun’s face. He doesn’t look particularly upset, just stoic, which is a dangerous sign in itself. Taehyun’s usually calm, but he’s not stoic—at least, not in this stage of your friendship, when Taehyun has known you long enough to stop pretending that he’s some sort of tsundere.

“Is something wrong?” you ask softly, turning around to lean against the counter.

“I saw your wishlist on Amazon. Why do you have a dildo on there?”

The words fall on you like a bucket of hardened cement. You feel your heart rate increase by about a thousand beats.

“I—you what?” you sputter in disbelief. There are a few seconds in-between this moment of horror where you want to scold him, yell at him, do anything, but it’s not like he’s in the wrong. It’s your Amazon wishlist. But why was he snooping around on it? And why did you put a dildo on it? Fuck. Your mind searches for an intelligent response, but all that falls out of your mouth is, “Other people can see that?”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows. “Yes? I hope you didn’t share it with your parents or anything, ‘cause it’s like, the first one on the list.”

You grip the counter, suddenly feeling very ill. “Oh. Shit.” You had not done anything of the sort—you kept your parents away from your online presence for that very reason. But if anyone was to stumble upon your questionable wishlist on Amazon dot com, you weren’t expecting Taehyun of all people. Your best friend? And roommate? Really? Fuck Jeff Bezos, for real.

“But that’s besides the point,” Taehyun says, advancing towards you, and you back up a little. Between his tall, wide-shouldered frame and you being a good bit smaller, you discover that it is very, very easy to feel intimidated, almost trapped, by him. “Why do you need to buy one? You know I got a dick, right?”

It’s like another punch to the stomach, except someone also crushed your head with a boulder. If you weren’t red before, you definitely are now, sweat pooling at your palms at his implication. “What the fuck are you talking about.”

Taehyun shrugs and reaches behind you to grab a glass from the dish holder. “I’m just saying,” he says, making his way over to the sink. “Why waste thirty dollars on some plastic when you can get the real thing for free? And better?”

Are you even hearing him right? “Genuinely what are you on,” you say, still aghast. “I wanted to buy one because—because—I mean, I-I don’t know, it’s normal! Shit, Taehyun, does it really matter? Don’t tell me you’re being serious.”

He shrugs again. “Why not?”

You say the first thing that pops into your mind. “What if it sucks?”

Taehyun only laughs. “You really have that little faith in me?”

“I don’t know!” You think briefly on the sex talks you two have had—some you had sprawled over each other on the couch, glasses of soju in hand; others you had during movie nights, clay masks smeared over your faces while you struggled not to laugh too hard. They were fun, sure, but it’s one thing to hear Taehyun talk about fucking other people and another to hear him talk about fucking you. To your knowledge, Taehyun’s pretty good in bed, but… But why are you even considering it? You both have been best friends for years. If you have sex, it’s only going to ruin your friendship. There are other ways for you to feel good—ways that don’t risk a seven-year friendship and getting kicked out of the apartment.

“I don’t know,” you say again, suddenly terrified at yourself for not giving him a straight answer. It should be a hard, flat no! You shouldn’t be considering it all! Yet here you are, your brain suddenly full of the thought of Taehyun and his dick.

“Hey, I’m just saying. Trying to open up some options for you here. I’m one hundred percent willing, but only if you are.” Taehyun puts up his hands like that settles it. He flashes you a smile. “Just tell me, okay? And if you still don’t want to, that’s chill too. We’ll both act like this never happened.”

Is that even possible? “Right,” you say, feeling faint. “Okay, yeah.”

Taehyun’s smile doesn’t fade. You can only watch as he takes a swig of water and shuffles happily to his room.

You think about it. Probably a bit too much.

You have an essay to write for your class, and it’s due in a few hours—but you can’t stop thinking about it. It being Taehyun fucking you. In your defense, you’ve been pent up all week, trying to balance your academics and health and social life and Taehyun all without having any time for yourself, so it makes sense, you think. You hope it makes sense that you’re fantasizing about your roommate, considering everything that’s happening to you.

You shut your laptop and sigh, lying back down on your bed. Taehyun has been acting completely normal in the three days between now and when he had first made his offer, which you are endlessly grateful for, but also bewildered by. He had even paid for takeout that same night, and you had eaten it together on the floor of your living room, and it was like nothing had even happened. Still, you’ve been mulling it over ever since. Pondering it, if you will. And it’s not your first time. Many nights you have found your tired, worn-out brain wandering to your roommate, his pretty face, great body, cute personality… How it would feel. What he would do. Taehyun, leaning over you, kissing you, running his pretty hands up and down your skin. Nipping at your collarbone with his sharp, perfect teeth. Grazing them along your neck, sucking at the soft parts.

Fuck. You’re wet.

You feel crazy.

Your hands slide down your panties, face burning with shame. The only thing you can think of is Taehyun, his soft skin and pretty brown eyes, his lean arms and chest. You picture him above you, caging you between his arms, a glittering smile on his face as he touches you, his back muscles flexing. Do you like that? he whispers, his voice low and raspy. You don’t even have to work hard to imagine what he sounds like during sex—the walls here are awfully thin, he’s a twenty-one-year-old guy, and you’ve thought about it more often than not.

“Fuck,” you keen, your hips rolling up as you dip your finger into your folds. Your free hand trails up your torso and into your mouth; you roll your tongue around your fingers and wish, crazily, that you were sucking on Taehyun’s instead. “Shit, oh f—”

“About your offer.”

You’re sitting at the dining table. Taehyun is halfway through his serving of pancakes that you made for him in a partly-tired, mostly-horny daze. After a particularly busy morning, you can’t remember much of last night other than the fact that you fucked yourself sore and came three times in a row, no refractory period, and now you can barely hold your fork.

Taehyun looks up at you. He’s shirtless again. If you were any crazier you would be disappointed that he never left much room for imagination before your first time together. “My offer,” he echoes.

“From a few days ago,” you clarify, poking your fork through your slice of toast. “The. You-fucking-me thing.”

“Ah.” Taehyun leans back and you can tell he’s fighting down a smile. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well. I’ve been kinda… you know, lately,” you begin, staring hard at your plate, “and I was gonna buy the… you know, but then I realized my shipping address is still at my parents’ house and I really don’t want to wait for another week or pay extra to get it the next day or pay thirty dollars for a plastic dick so—”

“So you want me to fuck you?”

You let out a breath and brave a glance at him. “Yeah,” you mumble.

“That’s all you had to say,” Taehyun says with a smile. He pushes his plate away and fixes you with a look. “When do you want to do it? Kinda weird to be planning this out, no?”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to do it,” you groan.

Taehyun laughs, reaching over to touch your arm. “Don’t worry about it. What about later tonight? After you’re finished with your homework, I can help you unwind,” he suggests, and he sounds like he’s just telling you about the weather—but his voice has dropped about three octaves and normally you would find this shit cringe, but. Holy fuck.

You aren’t one for slutshaming, but perhaps you are one yourself. You squeeze your thighs together and nod, your gaze falling to the table. “Sure. That sounds good.”

“Good. You can come to my room once you’ve finished. I won’t be playing tonight, so don’t worry about interrupting. Well, you might be interrupting something, but—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Nooo need to elaborate,” you spit, standing up and picking up your plate. Taehyun laughs as you walk over to the sink and put away your dish. When you return back to the dining table, he continues eating like nothing happened. “I’ll go study now.”

“Study well, pretty.”

You make a vague sound of affirmation before slipping inside your room again. You back up against the door and take a second to breathe, then shuffle over to your closet.

Your panties are wet. Again.

“Come in.”

You step inside his room. It’s dark—his lights aren’t on, save for the RGB strips on his setup. He sits on his chair, legs spread, lap looking awfully inviting. For once, he’s wearing a hoodie, and he looks like he just got off a game.

“I expected to catch you at a more… compromising time,” you say, carefully.

“Funny way to say you wanted to see me jerking off.”

“I didn’t say that,” you say with a frown, and you stop walking in front of his chair. Taehyun pats his lap. He’s smiling so, so wide.

“Take a seat.”

You’re grateful when his hands reach up to cup your waist, guiding you as you slide a leg over him and sit down. It’s weird—oddly comfortable, but your tits are pressed up against his chest and your faces are really, really close. Like, close enough you can see each of his eyelashes. He’s so, so pretty.

Taehyun looks you in the eye. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice soft. When you nod, he hums and squeezes your waist. “Alright. Tell me about your day.”

“Huh?”

“Foreplay, baby. That’s like, the whole essence of a hookup.” Taehyun raises his eyebrows at you. “Would you just play along?”

“Fine, fine. I didn’t do mu—oh,” you gasp, as Taehyun’s lips latch onto your neck, pulling you into him. “Ah, fuck. I didn’t do much. I—I woke up early and did some assignments. Got a ninety percent on my mock exams.”

“Woah,” Taehyun says, pulling away. His eyes are bright. “Really?”

“Yeah. All of them.”

“Damn. Good job. Sometimes I forget you’re smart and hot,” he murmurs in between kisses. “Perfect girl.”

Holy shit. “Um—and then I went to the gym and this guy asked me for my number,” you continue. Taehyun licks at your throat and bites down hard. “Ow, fuck you. I said no thanks and then went back home and showered.”

“Did you do anything in the shower?”

You scoff as he licks along your jaw. “No. I’m not a perv like you.”

“Not a good idea to make fun of the guy who’s about to fuck you.”

“Sorry. Can’t help it.”

“And then what?”

“And then I had breakfast with you and after, I… I fucked myself a little.” Taehyun groans and your breath hitches in your throat. “I thought of you.”

He chuckles. “I would have been a little confused if you hadn’t. You must have been so pent up, baby, huh?”

You grab a fistful of his hair and pulls him away from your neck so your eyes meet. “I’ve been thinking of you. For a long time. Even before you made the offer,” you say, barely breathing. Your grip loosens, and you watch as his eyes grow dark. “Anytime I got h-horny, I—I imagined you. And I… was going to buy the toy ’cause I never thought I’d get the real thing with you.”

Taehyun seems taken aback, but his face of faint surprise melts into his usual cocky smile and he presses his lips against yours.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but the real thing is a little bigger than five inches, baby.”

If you weren’t wet before, you’re drenched now. You feel a little bad for his grey sweatpants, the front all smeared with your precum. But knowing Taehyun, he’d probably like that.

You continue kissing for a while, Taehyun’s gaming chair creaking incessantly underneath your weight, but you’re too turned on to be bothered. He’s still playing with your panties, rubbing you over them. You honestly, truly might die.

“Taehyun,” you say, pulling away. He looks like a mess, lipgloss smeared all over his mouth, hair messy from your constant running your hands through them. “Can you touch me?”

“I am touching you, baby.”

You whine. “No, no, like—like inside me, please, fuck.”

“Use your pretty voice to ask me nicely.”

You take a deep breath but it’s let out as a whimper. “Please, Taehyun. Fuck me with your fingers,” you mumble, burying your face in his neck. “Please, please. Please.”

“Good job, princess. Of course. Anything you want.”

And you—you almost die, and it shows with the way you squeezes your thighs together and nuzzle your face deeper into his shoulder, letting out a soft moan when he finally moves to comply.

Taehyun seems to notice, because something in his eyes shifts and he leans in, kissing your cheek. “Do you like it when I praise you, baby? Come on, tell me everything. Tell me what turns you on. Want to make you feel good.”

“I like praise, yeah,” you say, your voice trembling as he moves his hands down to the hem of your panties. “Praise and… And some degradation, too, but mostly praise. I like pet names and—fuck—biting and spanking and k-kissing, fuck, even just kissing turns me on so much.”

“I can tell, baby.” Taehyun glides a finger over your cunt and smiles. “You’re fucking soaked. So cuuute.” He coos it, like you’re some sort of cute doll and not his fucking roommate whose pussy he’s playing with.

It makes you whimper, your fingers shaking where they should be holding onto Taehyun’s shoulders. “Ugh, fuck,” you squeak. “Fuck you.”

“Let me do it first. Grind down on me, pretty.”

You comply and gasp a little at the hardness underneath you. “Fuck. You’re so—”

Taehyun hums, his hands moving to your waist, helping you rock harder against him. “Just for you. I’ve been hard all day just thinking about you.”

You make a pathetic sound at the back of your throat and kiss him, your mind suddenly flooded with images of him touching himself right here in his chair, the slick sound of his hand wrapped around his cock, all while he thinks of you. Without warning, he reaches up his free hand and lightly taps at your cheek; you don’t even have to think about it before your mouth falls open and his fingers slide in.

“Perfect,” Taehyun breathes, and your heart skips in your chest. “You’re so good, fuck. Didn’t even have to ask, what a good girl.”

You grind down harder. Taehyun throws his head back and lets out something between a sigh and a groan. “Fuck, princess,” he rasps. “You’re so cute.” He reaches up with his other hand to caress your flushed face. “You feel really—ugh—really fucking good.”

“Oh my god, wait, fuck, wait—” You whimper around his fingers and slow to a stop; your hands clutch at the back of his hoodie. You whine into the cloth, breathing him in, feeling him all over you. His hands move down to your waist, squeezing gently. You can hardly breathe. “I… I was getting close. I don’t wanna come yet.”

Taehyun shifts a little under you; you huff when his hands slide under your ass and he moves to stand up, lifting you with him. “Let’s move to the bed, then,” he grunts, and your legs close around his waist as he carries the both of you to his bed.

He preoccupies himself by kissing you—your lips don’t move away from each other’s as you tumble onto the mattress. Your mind is racing. You’ve imagined kissing Taehyun so many times before, fantasized about how it felt, and these past few days it was all you could think about. His lips are so warm, his hands even warmer where they wander on your skin. You want him close, closer. Inside.

You break the kiss. “Taehyun,” you murmur against his lips. “Taehyun, please.”

Thankfully, Taehyun seems to understand what you’re getting at, and doesn’t make you beg for it—he’s shimmied out of his sweats and hoodie in record time, with only boxers and a wife beater left. He smiles down at you, gentle, loving. “Could you undress for me?”

You don’t need to be asked twice. You pull your dolphin shorts down and kick them off your ankles, trying your best to peel off your shirt as you do so. Taehyun is fully shirtless now, shadows cast across his toned muscles, and his hands probe at his boxers, but his eyes are fixed on you.

You have never felt so exposed wearing your favorite set of lingerie—you fight the urge to cover your stomach with your arms and instead opt to look up at Taehyun from under your lashes and hope he’s as horny as you are right now.

It takes a moment for Taehyun to recollect himself, but when he does, his hands are immediately on you, awed at your softness. “Damn,” he breathes.

“How eloquent of you.”

Taehyun laughs, running his hands down your waist. “No, I—” He breathes out another chuckle, his eyes trailing down to your belly. “No, you’re just perfect.”

Your cheeks heat and you feel yourself throb a little at his praise. “Says you. Know how many guys would kill to have your body?”

“Know how many guys would kill to have such a beautiful, sexy, smart girl like you?”

You press your lips together. You can’t help but think about how nice he looks, seated between your legs. “A lot of guys would be after you, it seems.”

“Can’t blame them. Fuck, your thighs,” Taehyun groans, moving his hands over them. Your breath catches in your throat. His hands look—are—huge. “Oh my fucking god. Promise me you’ll let me eat you out.”

You blink. “Of course,” you say. “Could you get to fucking me already?”

Taehyun laughs. “Right, sorry. Let me take my boxers off first.”

“Do you have a condom?”

“Yeah, it should be in the hoodie pocket.”

You retrieve the hoodie from the other side of the bed and feel around in its pocket before your fingers graze the plastic; you immediately pick it up and throw the hoodie on the floor. Meanwhile, Taehyun is finally fully naked and stroking himself; you turn even redder. Fuck, you want him so bad.

You tell him so. “Hurry, hurry, please,” you gasp, tossing the unopened condom packet to Taehyun, who chuckles.

“On your hands and knees, angel.”

You obey and whimper impatiently as Taehyun opens the condom and puts it on.

“Jesus, baby, you’re such a mess already and I haven’t even put it in,” Taehyun mumbles. You feel the bed dip where he climbs onto it again, and moans when he gives your ass a smack. “Needy. That’s what you are. Needy and impatient.”

You whimper. “Please, pleasepleaseplease, just put it in, put it in—” Taehyun pushes the small of your back so you drop face-first onto the mattress, cheek squished against the blankets. It smells like him. Everything smells like him. For once you fall silent when he announces he’s sliding in and you feels it poking at your entrance. Your eyes squeeze shut.

He slides in the first inch and you can’t help but whine. “Pleeeease, Taehyun,” you gasp, your voice high and reedy. He complies without an answer, sliding in more, slowly, until he’s almost halfway. You let out a squeak.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyun coos. “Don’t think you can take it?”

You make a small, pathetic noise at the back of your throat. “Nonono,” you cry. “You’re just… really big. Bigger than that—that dumb f-fucking dildo.”

“Aw, am I r-r-really?” Taehyun grins and eases another inch into you before you get the chance to retort. You suck in a breath instead, bunching the sheets into your hands. In a moment of guilt, he uses his other hand to give your waist a reassuring squeeze, then leans over to push back your hair for you. “Damn, you’re tight. You can take it, though, can’t you?”

You whimper. “Ah, shit, yes.”

“That’s it. There you go. Doing such a good fucking job, taking my cock.”

Taehyun kisses your shoulder as he slides in the rest, a string of pathetic whimpers and cries leaving your mouth as he bottoms out. Once his thighs touch the back of yours, he stays very still, letting you adjust to the size.

To both your surprise, you are the one who breaks the almost-silence with a short huff as you prop yourself on your elbows. “You… you can move now,” you grit out, sounding almost pained.

Taehyun hums. “Tell me first. Which do you like better? The toy or my cock?”

You’re silent, but he can see your knuckles whitening as you grip the bedsheets. Taehyun scoffs and grabs both your arms with his hand, pulling them behind you with a grunt. You yelp as his cock hits a different angle inside of you.

“Tell me. Which one is better? I won’t move until you tell me.”

You whimper for a few moments, but Taehyun doesn’t let up. You take a shaky breath and let your head hang. “Y-you,” you mumble.

“Louder, pretty.”

“I like your cock better—hmf—better than the toy,” you say. Taehyun can hear the tears in your voice and his belly flip-flops. So fucking hot.

He might have said that out loud—you might have heard him—but he doesn’t have time to think about the possibilities, because at once he’s drawing his hips away from yours and slamming back inside again. The reaction is immediate. You keen, chest heaving at the intensity.

“Fuck,” you croak, clinging onto the bedsheets.

“God,” Taehyun breathes, holding you up to his chest, “I’m obsessed with you.” He mouths at your neck and you whimper.

“Don’t bite too hard,” you plead. Taehyun bites down harder in response.

“I’ll bite as hard as I want,” he says, but there’s no heat in his words, and he presses a kiss to your shoulder right after. His hands snake up your body, from your hips to your waist until they stop comfortably at your tummy. He thrusts in and out of you at a steady pace, kissing mindlessly at any sliver of skin he can get his lips on. “Been dreaming about this for ages, you know. I’ve been wanting to fill you up for the longest time.”

Fire stirs within the pit of your stomach at the thought. “I do, too. Fingered myself thinking it was your cock,” you mumble back, delirious, and you can feel him smile against your shoulderblades. Suddenly, he slides out, flips you over and enters you once more in a single swift movement. His pace picks up and you exhale slowly, melting into the pleasure, your eyes trained on the array of faces he’s making above you.

“You’re perfect, angel.” Taehyun’s voice drops into a murmur, his bangs falling perfectly around his face. “I’ve always wanted to do this with you, baby. Not only because you’re really hot, but”—he lets out a moan here—“also ’cause I really, really like you, and I don’t wanna fuck the shit out of you for no reason, I—I also wanna take you on dates, and—” He pauses and groans when you squeeze down on him, eyes twisting shut. “Ah, shit, and I wanna fuck you not as a one time thing, but—fuck, but as like, a boyfriend thing—mm—you know?”

You let out a moan, your eyes cracking open incredulously. “You’re telling me this now?” you pant.

Taehyun laughs but goes even faster, his hands still tight around the softness of your waist. You cry out and latch onto his strong arms, wondering if this is happening, if this is real, if Taehyun really just confessed to you in the middle of rearranging your guts. You can’t believe this. Your heart flutters. Your pussy throbs. God, what is wrong with him?

Taehyun’s hand moves up to your jaw. He tilts your chin up and presses your lips together in a slow, slow kiss. “Fuck, baby, you’re gorgeous. Shit,” he says, kissing you again and again. He looks almost desperate, moving inside you, his entire face flushed red. “I love kissing you. Such a pretty girl, my baby, aren’t you? I—oh, fuck, you feel so good, I like you so much.”

“Shit,” you mewl, reaching up to cup his face. He kisses the corner of your mouth, moving almost desperately now, moaning loudly against your skin. “Fuck, Taehyun, you’re crazy—fuck—”

“Tell me how beautiful you are,” Taehyun rasps, not sounding like himself at all, but he moves his hips impossibly faster, and his hand trails down to your neck. “Tell me how pretty you look while your pussy chokes this dick, fuck.”

You wail, your hands flying up to grasp at his wrists. “I’m—’m a puh-pretty girl, fuck, ’m so pretty—”

“That’s right, princess. Are you close? You wanna come?” he rasps, reaching down now to rub your clit. “Go ahead, baby, come on my cock, please, fuck, come on—”

“Taehyun,” you gasp, your breath hitching, as you feel the waves of your oncoming orgasm.

“—cream on it, sweet girl, make me proud, wanna feel you coming for me, ’cause of me—”

You cry out from underneath him and you jolt so suddenly it startles him; your back arches off the bed and your thighs clamp around him and you go very, very still. You come for a long time, breathing and whining throughout it; Taehyun keeps moving, easing you out of it, his hands rubbing and squeezing your waist until finally your muscles relax and you go slack, melting back into the mattress.

“That’s it, pretty, good job,” he murmurs, running feather-light touches up and down your torso. “Good job, princess, what a sweet girl.”

He slides out of you after a minute, and you make a noise; you crane your neck to watch as he peels off the condom. “Did you come?” you ask, your voice awfully quiet. He looks up at you and smiles.

“It’s fine, baby.”

You move to sit up. “No, no—”

“Angel, I’m good.”

“You’re still—”

“Shush.” Taehyun scoots closer to you, settling on his elbows between your legs. “I still want to taste you.”

An hour later, you find yourselves lying in bed together. After making you come another time on his tongue and finally coming after the world’s best handjob, Taehyun had scooped you up and seated you in the bathtub, where you took turns washing each other’s hair and giggling deliriously about what had just happened. You smell overwhelmingly like his shitty male body wash, but you find it hard to care that much when he’s buried his face in the crook of your neck.

Seeing that your friendship was effectively ruined in the best way possible, you find it hard not to giggle a little, wrapped in his arms. Taehyun’s hands, sliding smooth and gentle across your torso, stop abruptly.

“What are you laughing at?” he asks, sounding affronted.

“You. You’re ridiculous.”

“What? I wasn’t even doing anything.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just ask me out on a date? As opposed to offering to fuck me. You came off a little strong with that, you know,” you mumble. “Now that I think about it, it was kind of a dick move.”

“Sorry,” Taehyun grumbles. “I’ve asked you out to dinner multiple times but you kept calling them friend dates so I gave up on that.”

“You were trying to flirt with me? I had no idea.”

“Clearly. That’s why I had to stop trying to make romantic advancements and just settled on asking to fuck you instead. The dildo was the perfect incentive.” His fingers move up to tangle in your hair. “I had—I have, like, the biggest, stupidest crush on you. It’s embarrassing.”

You smile. “Lucky you. I like you, too.”

He breathes out, presses his forehead to your shoulder. “Thank god. I was waiting for you to say it,” he says quietly. “We don’t have to talk about it now, though. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

“Fine with me. Why were you even looking at my Amazon wishlist, anyway?”

“Well.” Taehyun stills his hands and clears his throat. “I was trying… to pick out… a birthday gift for you.”

“A birthday gift?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t laugh.”

You start to laugh. “Oh my god,” you say again, in between giggles. “My birthday isn’t for another two months, dumbass.”

“I wanted to be prepared!” Taehyun protests, pinching lightly at your waist. “I told you, I have the biggest fucking crush on you. I was gonna give you a bunch of little gifts. And actually, I was planning to ask you to be my girlfriend. I was so excited, too. Asked the guys for help and everything. Soobin was going to hold up the sign. And Beomgyu was in charge of finding a nice place.”

You snort, twisting around to kiss him. “Sorry for laughing. You’re just an idiot sometimes,” you mumble, and kiss him again. “If it makes you feel better, I would have said yes. And anyway… I kinda knew you liked me. The walls are very thin, you know.”

Taehyun tenses up behind you. “What?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“I hear you jacking off all the time. I’m sorry to break it to you. At least you sound pretty.”

Taehyun groans and presses his nose between your shoulderblades. “Fuck you,” he says, muffled.

You hum. “We’re even.”

tyun: pussy so good i professed my undying love for her

#taehyun hard hours #taehyun x reader smut #taehyun smut #taehyun x reader #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt x reader #txt smut

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ashwhowrites · 1 year

Text

Part 1

Here is part 2!!! I hope you guys like it and it was worth waiting for. Thank you for all the love and support on part 1 🥹 it means the world. Enjoy :) never proofread

Steve and Eddie raced to the school, anxiety in their veins as Eddie parked the van. Both boys ran into the building, following the sounds of screaming and cheering.

Steve pushed through the huge crowd, arms immediately wrapping around Y/N's body. Yanking her frame off of Jason, who is on the floor groaning in pain.

"STOP. STOP" Steve screamed, trying to keep his grip tight as she wiggled and squirmed to get out of his touch.

Eddie raced behind, going for Jason instead. Y/N doesn't fight unless she's provoked and he had a good idea Jason started it.

But Eddie's attention on Jason got caught short, hearing Steve Y/N's name as she marched down the hall.

Steve didn't waste a second running after her. He let her walk away once, and he didn't want to do it again.

"Please, just stop" Steve pleaded, hand reaching out to grasp her elbow.

She hated that she melted once he touched her. She was mad at Eddie, but Steve hurt her too.

"what Steve? Now you want to talk?" She spat out, turning around to face him. Cradling her own elbow out of his touch.

"I'm sorry, I never should have let you walk away without listening to you first. You deserve to have the opportunity to explain." Steve confessed. He watched her closely. Her eyes were blocked off from any emotion. And her lips were turned down into a frown.

"no, I don't deserve to explain myself, I deserve to have my boyfriends trust me enough to not even think twice about a rumor like that. I also deserve to be treated as my person. Not a shell of the people who hurt both of you in past moments. I'm not Nancy, and I'm not whoever the fuck Eddie thought I was. I'm me, and you both didn't trust her. Fuck both of you. You followed behind Eddie's lead like a fucking dog. Don't you think for yourself, Steve? It's pretty clear where I stand compared to Eddie. " She said harshly, turning back around and marching out of the school.

Steve took the hit, he deserved it. He was a grown man and he should have thought for himself. He knew he was going to hurt her and he did it for Eddie's sake. He was supposed to treat both his partners fairly, and he just put one higher than the other.

Eddie didn't waste much time with Jason. Spat out to leave them alone and followed the direction where Steve went.

Eddie found him alone in the hallway. Shoulders dropped, and Eddie assumed the conversation didn't go well.

"she still pissed?" Eddie asked, arm wrapping around Steve from behind. Steve shrugged him off and created space between the two.

"just don't touch me." Steve sighed, turning to face Eddie. Watching Eddie's face drop.

"what? What did I do?" Eddie scoffed

"We should have been better. And I should have thought for myself. With everything in me, I don't believe she cheated, and I should have told her that. I followed you and I lost her. And seeing this heartless monster you've been, I think I lost you too. If you believe she did it, that's for you to deal with. But I'm not following you anymore." Steve confessed, giving Eddie a small smile and turning to walk out of the school.

Eddie's insecurities cost him both partners. And now it's on him to fix everything.

He always wanted to protect both of his partners, and he's the bad guy who tore it all up.

Eddie wasn't sure how Steve got home, but once Eddie made it in his trailer, he felt alone. He spent night after night in Steve's apartment, never returning home. He went into his bedroom, throwing himself face-first on his mattress.

He wanted to fix things altogether, he didn't want to talk to Y/N and Steve separately. If he was going, to be honest, and break down into pieces, he only wanted to do it once.

Many phone calls later, Eddie got Y/N to answer. Most of his calls were answered with a scoff and the slamming of the phone hitting the wall. He barely could get a word each time. But this wasn't the time to give up. Once he finally got her to stay on the line longer than two seconds, he asked her to come over to talk.

And it wasn't easy. She was stubborn and still pissed off. Calling him every name in the book, dragging his name up and down the block, before finally sighing and saying "Be there in ten."

Eddie knew convincing Steve to come over would be easy, all he had to do was mention he has Y/N on the way over.

The room was silent, and all three of them were uncomfortable. Y/N couldn't look at either of them, keeping her hands in her lap. Steve kept his eyes on Y/N, silently pleading she'll look up. And Eddie kept his eyes on the floor, stomach twisting in knots.

They were in this position all because of Eddie, and he knew that. All the blame rested on his shoulders and his shoulders alone.

"I want to start by thanking both of you for coming and hearing me out." Eddie sighed in one breath. The anxiety filled his stomach.

"yeah, I think it's a nice option to have a chance to explain yourself, but that's not for everyone." Y/N threw out the side remark. Rolling her eyes as she finally looked up at Eddie.

"I'm sorry for everything. Y/N, I'm sorry for attacking you right away, not letting you explain yourself, and turning Steve against you.....I know what I did was so wrong. Deep down I knew I was fucking everything up but I couldn't stop myself. " Eddie voiced out. His eyes connected with Y/N's.

"Eddie, I just don't understand why it was so easy to believe I cheated on you guys. I've been loyal, supportive, and understanding of both of you! I would have believed you guys over anyone. But knowing you chose to believe random high schoolers over your girlfriend is fucked up. And I deserve a real explanation for that. I don't care if you knew you were wrong, it's the fact you continued to be an ass to me. I'm also disgusted by the fact you saw me as someone seeking to hurt Steve and that you felt the need to protect him. Protect him from his girlfriend? That's low." Y/N didn't plan to hold anything back. She spent night after night having her thoughts brewing over and over.

"you deserve an explanation. I need to be honest with both of you and myself. I acted out of insecurity and fear. I....heard the rumor and my first thought was I cannot let anyone know this would hurt me. It's fucked up, and I picked my pride over being vulnerable. I wanted to show I could be unaffected. That the relationship between you and I isn't what I depend on to be happy. But it is, and it's fucked up of me to find that embarrassing to admit. Because it's not. You and Steve make me so fucking happy and show me what love is about. I took all that for granted and tossed it aside like it wouldn't mean anything to me. Neither of you deserved that, and Y/N you didn't deserve to be treated like that. " Eddie took a deep breath before continuing.

"I also want to apologize to Steve, I wanted to protect you but all I did was hurt, everyone. I should have been mature and brought the topic up in a controlled way. I shouldn't have thrown it out in a fit of anger and I shouldn't have turned you against her before she even got home. I was wrong and I was wrong to both of you. I know I don't deserve another chance, I know I didn't give Y/N a fair chance, but I'd like to ask for another chance at being your boyfriend again." Eddie nervously looked between the both of them.

"Before we answer that, I'd like to apologize to Y/N also," Steve sighed out, facing her fully. " You are right, I should have thought for myself. We both know Eddie doesn't communicate well, and I was the only one in that situation that could have controlled the conversation and helped us out. I should have let you explain yourself. You're not Nancy and you've proved that. I also am guilty of letting my insecurities take over and ruining everything we built. I think I speak for Eddie and I when I say, if you give us this chance, we will prove our loyalty to you. And we will always communicate when our insecurities are taking control again. "

Y/N was happy to hear both boys being honest with themselves, admitting that their insecurities got too much and they panicked. It doesn't take away the hurt and damage, but it's a start to fixing everything.

"I appreciate both of you apologizing. Eddie, I'm hurt that you felt that your pride was more important than being vulnerable with me. But I like to hear that you know what's wrong and you are aware that was the wrong thing to do. I know you are trying Eds, and I don't expect you to know what to do all the time. You know you hurt me, and you knew it was on you to fix it. Thank you for taking responsibility for that. I will give you another chance, but I want you to work on your communication. We shouldn't count on Steve for all the communication between us. If you can prove to me that you are working on that, I'm happy for you to be my boyfriend again." She smiled at Eddie, his face breaking out into his smile.

She turned to Steve, a soft look in her eyes. " Thank you for apologizing as well. Thank you for knowing I am not Nancy and thinking over my words. I understand that your insecurities took over and I would also like for you to communicate that to me. I have faith that you can do that. I am also happy for you to be my boyfriend again." She smiled.

All three smiling at each other. Both boys understood they needed to back up their apologies, and show that they meant it.

Eddie knew that no one was ever going to make him as happy as his two partners do. He's lucky enough to have two people fall in love with him. He's safe with them. He can fall apart with them and know neither will judge him. He's flawed and that's okay.

Steve knew Y/N was her person and she was beautiful. She wasn't out to hurt him or Eddie. She just wanted to love them for who they are. Steve knew he needed to think for himself, and speak his thoughts if they happened to disagree with hers or Eddie's.

"Can I kiss you now?" Steve and Eddie asked at the same time, both boys chuckling to themselves as they stare at their girl across from them.

She giggled behind her hands, nodding her head.

"who's going first?" She joked. Knowing a fight was ahead of them.

"ME!" Eddie screamed, shoving Steve as he raced across the room.

Tags!

@littlefreckles4 @gregre369 @boybandbaby @lightmelikeamatch @sheisjoeschateau @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @sadpetalsstuff @sophiaj650 @lillie-1307 @book-of-roses @httpsad4m @kjaxm @pineapplechuncks @5tud10-54r4h

@tracymbcm @hopforlifee @sadbitchfangirl @ryantryan6969 @mulletmcghee @cinnamapup @hi-im-arie @quack-quack-snacks @ironblizzardgarden @weezerrhomiee @boredandangry1996 @mahalaraewolfe @spenciesprincess @angel-jz @eris-rose-86 @heyyitsmaille @j-k007 @knowitsforthebetterr @saucypeanuttt @m-good @roastyyytoastyyy @kaattrenn @booksandlighters @anaibis @finleyjaycee @hollywoodxrose @variant-lokitty @theamericanjewitch @spear-bearing-bi-witch @cerya @alltheloveamelia @shelbycillian @plk-18 @bellajg21 @logibearhockey1 @svtbpbts

@depressed-gays-of-marvel @rebecca-johnson-28 @grxcisxhy-wp @hamwrapz @lifecanbehardbutyouarestrong

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pandorxxx · 11 months

Text

Sweet mind of yours…

Lo’ak x metkayinan fem reader (all aged up)

Warnings: fluff, smut, cursing, creampie, orgasms, p in v, belly bulge.

Synopsis: you and lo’ak had been close ever since he came to your clan seeking Uturu. It was clear that you both liked each other, but you were scared. Scared of what might happen if you finally let him in. What happens when you finally do?

“Wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” His words rolled off of his tongue like molasses with a bright smile. His baritone knocking you out of your trance.

You picked your head up, meeting his soft gaze. His eyes were pools of rich honey…inviting, almost too inviting. You were falling hard, and you knew other girls were too. He was the shiny new toy around the clan, but it seemed as if he wanted to spend all of his time with you.

His strong, calloused hands were delicately placed in his lap. His posture slightly slouched as he sat next to you on the edge of the rock. You’d normally bring him here to watch the sunset, but the sunset wasn’t the only view.

His freckles danced under the dimly lit sky, like painted constellations across his broad chest. His braided hair, placed in a loose ponytail as one braid covered his eye, courtesy of you. Once you told him how handsome he looked, he never stopped with the style.

His smile, so sweet and delicate. It made your heart flutter every time you saw him. And tonight seemed to prove no different.

“Thinkin’ about how dull my life was…before you came along.” You smiled back, a dusty purple tint staining your cheeks in nervousness.

“Is that so?” He asked playfully, bumping your shoulder with his gently. You let out a soft giggle, smiling down at your feet, swishing the ocean water around beneath you. You nodded in response.

“Yup. Know what else?” You turned to look at the side of his face briefly before turning away, avoiding eye contact at all costs. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to tell me, huh?” He chuckled, now staring at the side of your face, hoping you would give him the gift of your beautiful blue eyes. It was like you two were playing a game of tag. You were never good with direct eye contact, especially with lo’ak.

“How every girl here is probably frothing at the mouth for you.” You joked, but nothing about it was a game to you. It was scary to know that this could all end in the blink of an eye. He cocked an eyebrow, staring out into the crystal blue water.

“Nah. I'm not too much interested in any of those girls. Plus, I’ve got my eyes on a beauty already. Just wish she had her eyes on me…” the last sentence trailed off into the air as his eyes met the side of your face again. And you could feel the heat radiating on your cheek. He let out a patient sigh, kicking his feet languidly in the water.

“Why don’t you look at me?” He asked with a concerned tone. His hand engulfing yours. You felt your heart skip a beat, and you unintentionally pulled away from his embrace.

“I-I wasn’t trying to- Im sorry.” He panicked, before face palming, followed by a shake of his head in embarrassment. It became awkward, and you couldn’t help but think you ruined the moment.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to look at him for too long, or that you didn’t want him to touch you. In fact, you wanted all of those things more than anything else. You were just scared. Scared that if you stared at him for a second too long, you’d fall in love. Scared that if his fingertips grazed your skin the right way, you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself. And although he was sending you all of the right signals, what if you misread them?

It was scary for you, all of it. There were so many worthy girls here. Why would it be you? How could it be…you? The silence filled the air, and he couldn’t take it. It was all too much for him.

He couldn’t read you even if he tried. He had a feeling that you liked him, but you never really let him in. Never opened up. He needed to know how you felt about this. Even if that meant pushing the boundaries of your friendship by making the first move.

“Y/n…” he sighed, shifting his entire body to face you. You swallowed thickly, as it seemed that he wasn’t going to let this go. You slowly shifted your entire body to face him as well, crossing your legs on the rock. He did the same, pulling you alittle closer to him by your waist. Being as gentle as possible with you.

“You’ve gotta tell me what’s going on in that sweet mind. I can’t read you, as much as I would like to.” He spoke softly, engulfing your hands in his, still searching for your eye contact. Your heart ached in fear, knowing that this was quite literally now or never.

“I-I can’t. Please don’t make me.” You shook your head, tears clouding your vision. So many feelings coming to the forefront. Feelings that you’ve worked so hard to suppress. It was safe to say that you were madly in love with him, so much that it hurt.

“Yes you can, please. I-I need to know what’s behind those beautiful eyes that you like hiding from me so much.” His hands trailed up to caress your cheek. An audible gasp escaped your lips. Your body began to heat up, and not in the way you’d think. Not so much with lust…it was deeper than that. It was as if you had finally found what you’d been searching for. The touch you’d been yearning for, but was too afraid to reach out and take. He was your missing piece, and it was evident now more than ever.

“Y/n, I don’t know what you’ve done to me. But I can't seem to shake the feelings I have for you. Can’t seem to shake the feeling that we belong together. I just wish I knew how you felt about me. It’s like I know you…but I don’t. I can’t make sense of this. So maybe we can help eachother.” He confessed, a hopeful smile creeping across his lips. And just like that, he had your attention.

Your eyes met his after his confession. Your ears flicking in the wind while your tail swayed high behind you. “There’s my girl…” he smiled, watching in awe at your reaction. Finally confirming what you felt for him, you didn’t even have to say it…but you felt the need to.

“Lo’ak, you just kinda came in and swept me off of my feet. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I don’t know what this is either, but I know that I just wanna be with you. That’s all I wanna do, lo’ak.” You finally confessed, still maintaining that eye contact he’d been craving ever since he laid eyes on you.

He bit his lip with a cheesy smile. His hands finding your dainty arms, caressing them in a way of praising you for finally opening up to him. You shifted to your knees, reaching a hand out to caress his cheek. His face was soft, yet his cheek bones were prominent and sharp. Your eyes traced over his intricate freckle pattern, unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Lastly, your eyes trailed over his lips. Your thumb gently brushing over his bottom lip. Now his tail was swaying high, patiently waiting for you to make the first move. He was just happy to witness you coming out of your shell. Just happy to be in your presence. He’d wait forever for you…

“If you wanna kiss me, I won’t stop you.” He chuckled. You bit your bottom lip, deciding that you wanted to do alittle more than that. You straddled his lap, holding onto his shoulders for support.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, eyebrow cocked as his hands found their place on your waist. Your lips crashed into his, essentially answering his lingering question. He let out a satisfied groan, shifting his hands down to your hips. You grabbed the sides of his head to deepen the long overdue kiss, instinctively grinding into him.

His huge hands guided your hips to create the right amount of friction. You both moaning into the kiss at this point. You could feel his cock growing by the second, and he could feel the pool between your legs. It was absolutely bliss.

“May I?” Lo’ak asked in between kisses, tugging on the back of your loincloth. “You can do whatever you want to me.” You spoke breathily, moving down to his neck, leaving hickeys on his skin.

“Mmm baby, don’t get me started.” He grunted, planting sweet pecks on your shoulder as he untied your loincloth from around your tail. He tapped your thigh, signaling for you to sit up briefly for him to pull the loincloth from underneath you, and you happily obliged.

An immediate flow of your slick trickled down to his thighs. You were more than ready for him, and had been for some time now.

“Take this off.” You whispered in his ear as you tugged on his loincloth with great force. He let out a soft chuckle at your sudden eagerness. He shifted you to your back, with him now kneeling between your legs. His eyes trailed your entire body, your freckles glistening in the night sky.

“So beautiful.” He shook his head in awe, reaching behind himself to untie his loincloth, the fabric dropping to the ground beneath him. His cock sprung up, hitting his belly with a loud, heavy slap. A string of precum oozing out of his tip. The freckles on his shaft

dancing individually in anticipation. Your legs had intentionally opened alittle more. You reached out, your fingertips just barely grazing over the base in wonder. He let out a soft gasp, his tail hitting the ground with force repeatedly in excitement.

“So beautiful.” You smirked, leaning back on the ground, ready for him to take you as his. Ready for him to have his way with you. He smiled at you, grabbing his cock to jerk it off slowly.

He then proceeded to thrust in between your wet folds, earning a soft moan from you. “Please, give it to me.” You whined, grabbing his cock to line it up with your aching hole. His eyes widened in anticipation, letting you take control for right now. With one simple push, you slide him into you slowly, your walls immediately sucking him in. You both letting out a series of moans.

“Fuuuck, baby girl.” He whimpered, gripping your hips to thrust into you expertly. Immediately hitting all the right spots in a matter of seconds. Your back bowed to the rock, exposing the large print In your lower belly with every hard thrust into you.

“Y-You’re in m-my fucking stomach, lo’ak.” You whined in pleasure, head tilted all the way back as your eyes rolled. Your dainty hand dancing around the print.

“I-I know, I know mama. Taking it so well, too.” He grunted, running his hand over the bulge briefly. The pleasure was consuming the both of you, more so you. You couldn’t seem to control the sounds that came out of your mouth, or the faces you made. It’s like lo’ak had completely control over you.

Your hands found their way to your face, trying to hide yourself from him. Your screams becoming muffled instantly. His thrusts quickened, and deepened. His tip constantly slamming against your sweet spot.

“No, no, no baby. I wanna see you.” He spoke lowly, gently grabbing your hands, holding both of your wrists in one of his large hands as he continued to fuck into you like it was the last time he’d see you.

You tucked your bottom lip into your mouth. Eyebrows furrowed, and face screwed in pleasure as you tried desperately to hide your cries.

“Oh come on, mama. Don’t hide from me. Let that shit out. You know you can’t hold it forever.” His baritone soothing your eardrum just right. He sent you slow, hard strokes. So intense that you had no other choice but to drop your jaw. Small whimpers escaping through with every meeting of his pelvis to yours.

“Yesss, juuust like that baby. Open up.” He nodded, licking his bottom lip as he stared into your eyes. He shifted your legs over his shoulders, before placing his hands on either side of your head. You were nearly folded in half. His face hovering just over yours, so there was no excuse not to look at him. He was deeper than he’d ever been, closer than he’d ever been.

“Lo’ak- t-oooo deep.” You whimpered, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He just watched you in awe. You were so pretty taking all of him, and he couldn’t get enough.

“I know, baby. You’ve gotta take it for me. You’re too pretty like this.” He moaned, rolling his hips into you as he stared down at your flustered face, waiting for a reaction.

“Ohhh my- lo’ak! I-I love you! I love youuuu!” You screamed, legs beginning to shake. He nodded in satisfaction, his breaths becoming short and heavy.

“Mmm, I love you too baby.” He confessed, a slight whine in his tone before his bottom lip found comfort between his teeth. You could feel it, your stomach began to contract, almost like you were exercising. Every stroke was revealing trickles of your arousal flowing down to the surface beneath you, and it was becoming too much for lo’ak to bare as well.

“Shiiit, y/n. You’re gonna make me fucking cum. You’re d-driving me crazy baby.” He whined, before his lips crashed into yours. You both muffling eachothers loud moans as your peeks neared. “Lo’aaaak. I-I” you moaned deliriously between kisses.

“Go ahead baby. Cum for me. I wanna feel that shit, you hear me?” He asked, a tinge of aggression in his tone. You nodded frantically, eyes locked on his.

“Cum in me. Pleaseeee!” You begged, pulling him in for another kiss. He sent you one hard thrust, rolling his hips into yours again with a loud growl against your lips. Your eyes crossed in pleasure. Your legs began to tremble uncontrollably, slipping off his shoulders and to the side of his hips. You pulled him into you, wrapping your arms around his neck as you let go on him.

“Yessss, I-Im cumming lo’ak. I’m cumming!” You whimpered, walls fluttering around his sensitive shaft. He let out a series of low groans and growls as he emptied himself inside of you. Thrusting into you languidly as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Take it all, baby. Milk me dry.” He moaned, rubbing his head into your neck, scenting you to claim you as his. He sent you one last stroke before leaving himself inside of you. You both catching your breath as he laid ontop of you.

“That was…” he started.

“Amazing” you finished.

He flipped you both over, you were now ontop of him and he laid flat across the rock. You two were now face to face. Sharing the same breath. It was beautiful. “If you’d let me. I’d love to see what’s going on in this beautiful mind of yours.” He smiled, grabbing his queue, bringing it In between you two. You watched his trendils dance. You lazily reach behind you, grabbing yours to bring it to the forefront. It was almost like a magnetic force, the way both of your trendils pulled towards eachother like they belonged together.

You both watched as they connected. Pupils blown with an audible gasp from both of you. It’s like your memories of eachother were in sync. A little movie playing of all the moments you spent with eachother. Only things that’s you two would share, now and forever.

“I love you, y/n.”

“I love you more, lo’ak.”

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @st-cass @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @urfavgirlmakenna @fanboyluvr @iameatingmyhair @secretflowerobservation @violet-19999 @xreadersstuff @sweetllamaparadise @lia-nath @sullymenrhot @dotheyevenknowmars @xdbluesky @slay-nt @domino-x3-blog @ladylovegood-69 @itssomeonereading @sweetirilly @skxawngmia @j-jinxee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @cumikering @pxndorasdream @itsaleidasworld @atxxokirina @yeletta @blueslxt-primary @jackchampismybbg @eywascall @valeriearriana37484 @avatarsslut @bee782916 @atxxokirina @taylormarieee @sweethoneycn

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scekrex · 3 months

Note

Hey💕💕💕

Can I request that instead of Adam being killed by Niffty it was male reader? Like he blocked Adam to not be killed. If you can thank you 💕

Don't worry babes, I've got you! Here, my dear, is reader dying for Adam. Enjoy the pain.

For you I'd bleed myself dry

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, major character death

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Angels were being slaughtered by demons, golden blood flooded hell's streets and in the middle of it there was you.

Adam had been beaten by Lucifer, the king of hell and devil himself had broken the first man's nose and was probably also responsible for some serious skull damage. The mask the brunette had been wearing when you had entered hell had been shattered, the only thing left were shards.

Lute was nowhere in sight as Adam crawled out of the crater Lucifer had created when he had slammed Adam onto the ground, his body was shaking and his face was covered in blood and the only clear thought that you were having was ‘Protect him at all cost’.

Adam's voice was furious when he spoke, yet still overly cocky and confident, he was still Adam after all, a few punches from the devil wouldn't change that. However, while he was stating that the demons weren't allowed to end it, that this was his to do and his alone, there was a little demon girl sneaking up behind him. Completely enraged, he didn't notice her, didn't hear her wicked little giggles.

Your body reacted quicker than your brain was able to process things because you were between your boyfriend and that sneaky demon in an instant, shielding your leader and boyfriend with your own body. Blood spilled from the wound as your body collapsed against Adam's, your hands weakly reached for his shoulders in order to keep your body up, but it wasn't working. The demon girl, you weren't completely sure but you thought Charlie had called her Niffty, withdrew the knife as abruptly as she had jabbed it into your chest. Then there was another stab.

Adam was quick to turn around once you had collided against him, he caught you in his arms, too shocked to react properly as little Niffty stood on your back, slamming the knife down a third time. He was frozen with fear, and could only stare as the scene played itself out right in front of him. He wanted to scream, to let go of his boyfriend and pull that bitch off of you. He wanted to grab her by her throat and tear her head off with his pure hands. But all he was physically able to do was to stare.

His golden eyes filled with tears as the way too pretty looking golden blood spilled from your mouth. Your body was weak, it was losing blood way quicker than you had thought. You wanted to reach your hand out for Adam's face to wipe away his tears, to tell him everything will be fine, that you will be fine. But all that your body could manage was a weak yet honest smile.

Niffty jumped off of you and giggled as she happily rushed over to her friends, “Charlie told me to stab, so I stabbed.”

A marrow-shaking scream ripped from Adam's throat, finally, finally he was able to move again. He grabbed a hold of your body firmly, ripped a piece of fabric off his robe to press it onto your wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. It was too late, you had already lost too much blood. Nothing he could do would save you. “Fuck,” the first man cried out, he sounded as if he were in pain and emotionally he was.

First Lilith had left him for Lucifer, then Eve had betrayed him and now he had lost you too..

“Don’t fucking die on me, Y/N,” he mumbled as he held your head against his chest, you were able to hear his heartbeat. It was quick and uneven, it made you worry about him. “You can't fucking die on me, you hear me bitch? You can't fucking leave me too,” his voice was filled with desperation and pain and if you're vision wouldn't be fading black, you would try to soothe him. But your body wasn't responding to you in the ways you wanted, in fact it had gone numb a while ago.

Adam's tears fell from his cheeks and fell on your face. You shakily inhaled his scent one last time before your eyes closed, there was no energy left in you to keep them open. “No, fuck no, stay with me,” the brunette slapped your cheek, careful not to hurt any more than you already were. “Don’t fucking leave me, you can't-,” he wasn't able to finish his sentence. Lucifer came up behind him, a firm hand was placed on Adam's shoulder.

“Gather your angels and leave,” the devil ordered, squeezing Adam's shoulder painfully as he dug his claws inside the flesh of the first man. Adam inhaled sharply, yet he didn't pull away either. The pain Lucifer was causing was nothing compared to the pain that ripped his heart apart. He was numb, there was no feeling left inside his limbs when he picked your body up. The leader of the exorcists hated how cold you felt against his skin, how dead you felt. Your halo had been picked up and placed onto your chest, right above the stab wound. The grip Adam had on you would've left bruises if you were still alive. He was afraid you'd disappear, that you would turn to dust before he would reach heaven.

The first man turned to Lucifer, directly facing the blonde king. With red eyes and pain audible in his voice he hissed, “That was one fucking step too far. For this,” he lifted your body slightly, “you’re gonna pay with your life. I will come back, we all will. And we will tear you apart, rip you to shreds. There will be nothing left of you.” And with the threat hanging in the air, he forcefully pushed himself off the ground and flew back in the direction where the portal was located. “Exorcists,” he yelled loud enough for the entire pride circle to hear his voice, “Retreat. We're done here. At least for now.”

The brunette was sitting on the highest roof heaven had to offer. Your body had been taken care of, it had been properly buried and he was the one who had made sure all your wishes about your burial had been granted. The only thing left was your halo.

That was also a thing you had requested, for Adam to keep your halo once you died.

So there he was, sitting on the highest roof, the roof where you two had shared your first kiss, as he looked down at your halo. The second you had died it had lost its glow, oh how he missed the glow of your halo. How he missed his boyfriend. It was unfair, Adam didn't understand why God seemed to hate him so much. Everything Adam had ever lost had been taken away from him.

You were everything to him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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bonny-kookoo · 5 months

Note

so how did someone older jk and oc celebrate new years? A midnight kiss?? :)))

Warning for suggestive stuff? It's not quite new years celebration but I honestly started to drift off way too much for a drabble haha

"Oh no!" You gasp out, earning Jungkook's immediate attention as he looks towards where you're standing in his kitchen.

"What's wrong?" He asks, while you hide your face behind your hands. "Darling?" He questions, as he gets up to walk towards you, a letter opened on the counter.

"Oh god I'm so sorry-" you tell him, visibly shaken. "I'm really sorry, I don't know why I- I think I thought I was home and opened it-" you rambles, hands shaking. "I didn't even read it, I swear, it was just-"

"Darling, hey, look at me." He tells you, turning you away from the scene of the crime to instead fully face him, hands on your shoulders. "You're fine." He states, makes sure to emphasize, as you go through the same steps you both go through every time things like these happen.

Breathe. This is Jungkook. Nothing is going to happen.

"There we go." He chuckles, squeezing your shoulders for a split second before he lets go. "What is it about?" He wonders easily, taking the letter to read it.

"I.. I don't know." You mumble, still ashamed. "I just.. read the first line and realized that it's not addressed to me- I really don't know why I even opened it-" You again state in defense, but his hand reaches out to pull you closer holding you gently by your waist.

"Its about that new year's celebration. I told them I wouldn't go this year.." he simply sighs, before he throws the letter and envelope away. "And it's understandable. You've been spending quite a lot of time here recently- I'll take it as a compliment that you feel like this is home." He jokes easily, hands on your hips as he grins at you.

"Why- if there's an event you're invited to you should go though?" You ask, but he shakes his head.

"I want to spend it with you." He answers. "Except if you'd like to go with me to that event?" He asks, moving your hair out of your face.

"I.. uhm.. would that even be.. appropriate?" You ask quietly. "Given.. you know. The age difference and all.." you worry, but he shakes his head.

"Its not an issue to me at all, if that's what worries you." He shrugs. "We're both adults. And trust me- our age difference wouldn't be the biggest. One of the investors has a wife almost twenty-five years younger!" He laughs. "Or does it bother you?"

"No, not.. anymore." You admit. "It used to. It felt.. a little intimidating. Sometimes it still does but not as much." You explain.

"I'm glad then." He hums towards you. "So?" He questions. "If you'd like to go, we can. I usually don't like events like these, but if you're there I'd go in a heartbeat." He flirts without realizing it.

"I don't even have.. proper attire. I bet those things are super fancy.." you worry, but he just grins.

"I mean, we still got time. I could call up someone, his wife owns a clothing label, we could go and get something fit for you." He shrugs easily.

"Jungkook, no way!" You gasp. "That.. already sounds way too expensive." You worry.

"Not really. I can just tell her to not mention any cost and you'd never know." He impishly grins, as your back rests against the kitchen counter. "Though.. I'd honestly rather take your.. measurements myself." He purrs, leaning in for a teasing peck.

"I'm just.. that's not.." you stammer, easily overpowered by his recently growing confidence in his pursuit of you. Its clear that he's starting to become comfortable with you to the point of feeling confident in his actions, even in how he reassures you whenever you tend to fall back into old fears.

"Oh but it is. I know exactly what she'd need for a pretty dress." He hums. "And while I already think I know your body like my own.."

"I think I need to make sure I got the measurements correct."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook fanfic

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qvrcll · 1 year

Text

leon kennedy hcs — ᥫ᭡

summary: a collection of leon kennedy headcanons i had procured deep in my notes app :-) can be applied to any version of leon, if i’m being honest.

warnings: nsfw mentioned in orange under the cut, ambiguous fem reader, older leon in some parts, food mentioned

a/n: recently wanted to write up some head-canons for leon as i had for past fandoms i was in, so voila :-) ngl i might make a part 2 !! i always appreciate the comments / rb’s / notes, ty i love you all :-,)

thinking about re2r ! leon who constantly provides you with a lunch before clearing off to work. he thinks its the one, amassable way he could ever amount to the love you’d shed on him — it’s a simple routine to fall into. he’d wake up around the early morning hours, gently peppering your forehead with light kisses before hesitantly peeling his body from yours. then, he’d spend most of the next few successive hours threading a delicious yet cute lunch for you. tomato soup, using cream to make a cat face on the vermillion surface? already packed away. a sandwich with cute hearts decorating the brown of the bread? he’s already prepared two. always making sure you’re well and sewed-up with your lunches for the ongoing day!

i think he’d also love his fair share of physical contact. it would begin in the early stages of dating, when he’d catch you coiled in your seat during the dilatory hours of the evening. you should have been in bed now, instead you’re effecting your incredibly important report, eyes cumbrous with sleep and your body slumped against the hard-wood bench. awkward and tense. so leon walks over, with his hands coasting your collar bones / shoulders / temple / forehead and softly palming it, effectively melting all the stagnant stress like water with a sigh. other times, he loves to cuddle you close — full-blown plastered against him like another layer of skin, limbs tangled with each-other to the point of not knowing where you start and where he ends, hands spun on your neck / thigh to gently massage the area when he feels himself maunder into a bottomless sleep with you corralled in his arms.

he acts like an old man and i will die undefeated on this hill — whenever he picks up from a particularly good nap, he always makes that deep, scratchy sound at the back of his throat, even stretches his limbs as far as they can go and then proceeds to whinge in pain from the pull of his muscles for added effect. squints when you hold up the phone to him, holds it away from his face. he also periodically sends you pictures of cute animals with some overly intent caption like “i’m feeling fabulous today and so should you :)” or something so embarrassingly cute in the most leon way because he thinks they’re the funniest thing in the world. ALSO an adamant advocate for instagram reels I JUST KNOW IT he chuckles loudly and ends up on them for hours.

re2r ! leon definitely got emotional / teared up / cried when you did anything to show him affection. for instance, you’d tell him you made him a playlist and this man ended up listening to it on repeat in bed, woke up with tears on his pillow. he’d also get overly excited when you remember some obscure detail about him that he revealed half-drunk in some bar over clamorous music. maybe he told you how he had a phase where he just listened to linkin park on repeat or how much he loves a certain brand of pasta — when you bring it up, he’s feverishly rubbing his hands against his jeans, eyes swallowed by a want he doesn’t even know is there, nattering again and again the words “wait, you caught that?” with a dopey, fresh grin on his face.

he’s pretty constant about his hair — his barber’s have basically memorised his preferred style / length whenever he visits them. he prefers to get them cut when a gruelling mission nearly cost him his life because he couldn’t reload in time, due to the strands assaulting his eyes. or maybe the summer made him realise its time to nominate a shorter cut. but he gets so psyched whenever you get your hair cut / done. whatever hairstyle / length, cut short in a pixie or a layered look or some goddess locs / knotless, he’s always in awe of you. he discerns your maintenance pattern and gets involved sometimes, maybe lathering oil on your roots when you’re too beat for it, or maybe he massages your head in that upwards, firm motion that has you out in seconds.

if the words “distance makes the heard fonder” ever applies, its to leon! it doesn’t even have to be that great a distance — once he’d worked on a particular operation (a few ways off) that required him to be away from home for merely a week and he’d returned, hunched in your doorway, eyes drooping at not having his human battery there. he always grasps you tight, in a hug so suffocating, to know you’re here, safe, in his arms. other times, after the outbreak, he would be required to be away one too many times for comfort. the d.s.o. was incredibly demanding, so he’d be all the more clingy when he returned, telling you just how much he hates this stupid job and how much he hates the feeling of not being near you. maybe sometimes, when he’s away for god knows how long, he video calls you out of fear of never seeing you again. he’d be instantly relieved by your familiar face lighting up the screen, exclaiming his name in that familiar tone. maybe sometimes, when he’s too spent, he’d feel himself falling for worse desires, palming himself through his pants at the sound of your voice if you’d tease him long enough, liquid and canorous voice emitting from his phone as he pathetically whines at your muffled praises. his eyes nearly fall out when he catches your fingers pressing firmly against your clothed heat, clit pressing against the fabric, wanton moans making it hard to stymie his release. its an unspoken, mutual agreement that the first day back is going to be a wordless detour to the bedroom.

amused when you take an interest in his weapons / holster / work place materials. although he loathes his job and would never give a green light for you to get caught up in this obstructive mess, he does enjoy the feeling of teaching you the bare basics of, for instance, self defence or maybe the correct compartments of a gun. he loves your concentration face, the way your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek or slips out in a “:P” when you’re poking around the metal build of his shot gun or feeling the rough material of his age old holster with such thought. i’m not sure where the thought came from, but if you ever mention wanting to build something (an extra shelf or a nook for clothes) leon operates in the sneakiest ways — when you’re at work, at a friend’s or simply out for long enough for him to attain the request at command. definitely does it without a manual and loves watching you exclaim in surprise when you get back, burying his nose into the crook of your neck, glad he could give you this crack of elation after everything you’ve done for him.

loves buying you gifts when he stops around a store — a plushie, that head scratcher you really reallllyy wanted, maybe even lingerie and cute costumes ;) once, you surprised him by getting a cowboy lingerie piece and this man barrelled into you and onto the bed. he’d been breathless, rubbing circles into your hips as your squirmed, not giving you the swell of pleasure you begged for — “think you can get away with this, huh? teasing me like that. come here,” and the words would die on his tongue as he shifted the skimpy under-piece and licked a long line across your throbbing heat, holding back a laugh when you’d twitch and hitter in his clutches. staying true to the word, you had asked him if you could ride him and he almost flew to the heavens, cooing “of course you can, sweetheart,” amassing the flesh of your bottom in his hands as you fervently rode him, sickly enjoying the way you whined and keened from the way he was brimming you. slotted into one another, breaths locking as one. needless to say, he definitely buys you more outfits which you always remember to accoutre yourself with to show your gratitude :)

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfic #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy fic #leon x reader

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sunandsstars · 1 year

Text

BRAVERY

Jake x Neytiri x Na’vi!Reader x Lo’ak (Platonic)

Summary: After almost dying, ___ and Lo’ak come back home to a very unhappy Jake Sully. Warnings: Abandonment, Wounds, Pregnancy, Harsh parenting, Mentions of death Word count: 2.4k

“Lo’ak! Prrnen! Where are you?”

___ jogged through the forest, eyes wide and alert, ears going left and right. The boy was lost for some time, he and his brother Neteyam went out into the forest to play ‘hide and seek’ a game the humans introduced, but when the older boy came back crying stating he lost his brother, ___ rushed out as fast as she could to find him.

Neytiri was doing her Tsahìk lessons with her mother and Jake was inside the skyperson building, so the other Na’vi was the only one available to get her son. “Lo’ak?” soft whimpers could be heard to the left of her, pulling back large leaves and vines she saw a head of black braided hair and yellow eyes filled with tears “oh my baby” immediately ___ pulled him into her arms.

“Mama!” the boy gripped her arms and nuzzled into her chest “I’m sorry! I got lost and could not find home”. ___ wiped his eyes and kissed his head, hushing him into calmness.

“It is alright my warrior, mama’s here now, you are safe” she stood up to her feet and pulled Lo’ak to rest on her hip, the little boy continued to weep into her shoulder, her heart ached for her son. The forest was his home, but it could be scary when you, a child, was left to fend for yourself so far out from camp and for so long too. She’s been searching for a while.

___ walked back home with Lo’ak on her hip, who was slowly falling asleep, exhaustion setting in. She continued to hum his song cord, taking note of the sky changing from a bright blue to a pretty orange, eclipse was near. She was sure her mates would be worried for her and their child, she just hoped Neteyam wasn’t too upset.

A sharp noise came from somewhere behind them and she paused, her ears turning back to catch anything. ___ glanced at her son who was fast asleep, head on her shoulder, she took her hand and placed it on the side of his face protectively and slowly twisted around.

Nothing.

‘Maybe it was syaksyuk..’ she hoped, slowly starting to step forward again in the direction of home. But before she could step out from the clearing they where in, a growl sounded in front of them in the shadows. A large black creature revealed itself from the fauna and bared its teeth, ___’s heart leapt out of her chest ‘palulukan’

Lo’ak twisted in her grasp and opened his eyes, rubbing them and taking note that they were still not home “Sa’nok?”. Immediately he was shushed, in confusion he looked up and then to the direction his mother was staring at, seeing the animal they were faced to face with.

The child’s yellow eyes widened and his ears turned back, his other mother, Neytiri, told him of a story in which she rode a palulukan in the war. She told him that it chose her and that it was a good ally and companion even in the short time. But she also told him they were dangerous, it’s name meaning bringer of fear, and that he should stay away from them at all costs.

The creature stalked closer, jaw opening wider and Lo’ak visibly shook, fear settling in harsh. He hissed on instinct, opening his mouth and baring his teeth. A roar came out of the animals mouth and it retaliated, now starting to run towards them, taking Lo’ak’s threat personally.

A gasp was heard above him and he felt them move faster than they were before, ___ climbing roots to the best of her ability, body heavy with much weight, as the Palulukan scratched at them, breaking off parts of the forest in its path. “Close your eyes baby, do not look”

The boy didn’t have to be told twice as his eyes instantly closed, clutching his mama around the neck and squeezing tight.

___ winced loudly as she felt claws scratch at her back, feeling blood drip down onto the floor, leaving a trail and no doubt a heavy scent. She wouldn’t be able to lose the creature even if she tried.

It roared again, much louder than the last, annoyed that it’s prey was slipping away as the Na’vi dodged between trees and ducked under large roots and leaves, the only thing guiding them to home was the glow of the forest.

A sharp whistle of an arrow sounded through the heavy breathing of ___ and the Palulukan’s growls. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of yellow and green and her ears fell back at another roar, this time of pain. Neytiri jumped down in front of them, arrow knocked and ready to shoot again, she hissed at the animal, much more ferocious than Lo’ak’s.

Recognising his mothers war cry, the boy snapped his eyes open and weeped with relief “sa’nok!!”. Another hiss was heard, this time it dragged longer than the archer and was much deeper than either woman’s.

“Get back to camp!” Jake skidded out of the tree line and jumped on the Palulukan with his knife, trying his best to cut a nerve to bring the animal down. ___ sighed with relief and sprinted back home, which thankfully wasn’t much farther, she hoped her mates would be ok, but she didn’t worry for them. They were strong.

“Mama!” two little voices shouted over the sound of rushing Na’vi, Neteyam and Kiri came running at them and hugged ___’s shaking legs. “You are scared” Kiri voiced her thoughts, taking note of the wobbly knees and heavy breathing, “We heard it. The roaring”

“I thought I would never see you two again” the eldest boy clutched tight, wiping his eyes and nose.

___ sat down onto the ground, kissing Lo’ak’s head and bringing both of the other children into her warm arms. “We are ok, I found your brother and we ran back, nothing can hurt us here”

“You’re hurt” Norm and Max came running with a medkit, skidding to a stop behind her and assessing the scratches “these don’t look that deep, enough to draw blood and scar though. But you won’t face any infections if treated correctly”

“Which is what I will be doing” a stern voice sounded to the left of the group, Mo’at came stalking with a basket of healing herbs. She trusted these humans, but she does not agree with their ways, preferring the great mothers help than those of burning alcohol and strange cotton wraps. She knelt down and glanced at the two men who nodded and packed the kit, sitting back and watching her work. The older Na’vi took a salve and applied it to the wounds, hearing her daughter in law hiss and growl softly to the sting.

“Grandma, you should have used the other one” Kiri peeked over her mama’s shoulder to watch Mo’at work, not afraid of the blood and gore.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“It would sting less”

___ chuckled and felt the burn disperse, sighing. Her mind drifted a little more, hand moving from Neteyam who was still clutched to her side, to her stomach which held a large noticeable bump. She was sure the adrenaline and stress got to the baby, but when feeling a soft kick to her hand all was well.

Mo’at finished with the back and then crawled to ___’s front, placing her own hand upon the bump “you two are fine, the great mother continues to shine on you” she grinned. Thanking Eywa for leaving the baby and her grandson unharmed, thanking Eywa for sparing all three lives.

“___!”

At the call of her name ___ turned around and felt her eyes water, her mates where ok, despite some dirt and bruises, maybe a couple small scratches. Her yellow orbs saw the Palulukan behind them, dead and being carried off to skin as food.

“Oh thank you great mother! Irayo si!” Neytiri ran faster than Jake, skidding to her side and kissing her head, then turning to Lo’ak and smooching his cheeks “you were hurt, we didn’t really see all that well and thought it was bad. I see now you are fine”

“She’s not fine Neytiri! She’s hurt! What if she and Lo’ak were killed?!” the boy frowned at the mention of his name, he was ok, why was his father angry, mama is alive and ok too. “Boy, what were you doing so far out into the forest? huh?! You were told to stay near to camp!”

Max and Norm glanced at each other, slowly backing away and jogging back to the old hellsgate, this was a fight they did not want to hear.

“Ma Jake, enough” ___ glared, placing her hand against her sons head once again “it was not Lo’ak’s fault”

“Oh? Then who is? You and the baby could have- could have died because of this moron!”

“JAKE!” ___ briskly stood up, softly apologising to the other two children who’s ears where folded at their fathers rage. She turned and faced her mate, anger in her watering eyes, why was he so angry at Lo’ak? Who has done nothing wrong? “This is your son, my baby, he is not an idiot! He was playing with Neteyam and got lost, this is not his fault” tears fell down her cheeks, Neytiri felt her heart break and reached out to wipe them, placing her hand on her mates full stomach. “Lo’ak was brave. He was a warrior today. Why can you not see that?”

Turning around she stalked to their hut in the trees, climbing with the three children at her sides, Lo’ak deciding to walk on his feet again. His mind turned at what his father said, he has never been so angry at him, maybe scolding him sometimes for causing trouble in the lab with Kiri, or when doing pranks with Neteyam, but this? It was new.

Reaching their home their mama walked inside and sat them all down, grabbing Lo’ak’s song cord off his tweng and grabbing a basket full of beads. “Pick one, to show off your bravery prrnen”

“I don’t know if I was that brave today mama…I was scared” He turned his head down and felt his siblings clutch his shoulders, disagreeing.

“You stood up to Palulukan, that is bravery. Being scared does not mean you are not brave little one” Lo’ak sniffed and grinned, feeling his little heart warm at his mama’s words.

“Yea you are the mighty warrior! Who is the mighty warrior?! Lo’ak!” Neteyam cheered, making war cried and throwing his fists in the air. Kiri rolled her eyes and grinned at her brothers, smacking the eldest on the head. ___ chuckled at her children and heard a rustle behind them, deciding to ignore it. Her hand went upon her belly and rubbed.

Lo’ak sifted through the different clay beads, finding a jagged black one and lifting it up “this one”, he then took his song cord and weaved it in, grinning. “This bead symbolises my bravery from a Palulukan”

A cough sounded through the open space, Lo’ak turned to see who was there and instantly his ears folded. ___ immediately knew it was her mate. “Hey…uh can I speak to you…both of you” the man slowly walked in and Neteyam and Kiri scurried out, not wanting to see what was to come. Lo’ak kept his head down, even when his father knelt next to him “Son, I want to apologise. You are not a moron, I should not have called you that. You were brave, protecting your mama when me and your mother could not. I am sorry”

The boy slowly looked up and his eyes watered for what felt like the millionth time today, he didn’t want to show this much weakness, especially not in front of him. Neteyam never did. “It is ok dad”

“No, no it’s not” Jake brought his arms up to wrap around Lo’ak and kissed the top of his head “I promise I will make it up to you…Hey, why don’t we go hunting tomorrow? Hm? Just us two?” his son perked right up, his father rarely had time to hunt with him and his brother anymore, with his duties as clan leader, and with him wanting to go hunt with just Lo’ak and not with Neteyam too…he couldn’t wait to rub it in his brothers face.

Eagerly nodding and shouting his thanks and praises, the boy scurried off, no doubt about to create a spat with his older sibling. ___ smiled a little as she watched him leave, not yet wanting to face Jake just yet but a hand fell atop her own on her tummy “___ please look at me”

She hesitated, “why should I?” she whispered softly “when you called our son an idiot for doing what children do? You hurt him, you hurt me” she turned to face him, ears back, tail swaying behind her.

Jake felt remorse, he never wanted to cause emotional harm to his family, now and ever. “I thought you two were hurt, you three even. If I lost Lo’ak..the baby..I don’t know what I would do with myself” he whispered. “When we heard the roar of the palulukan, we knew what it meant, you were in danger. Me and Neytiri never ran so fast in our life..”

“But that still does not explain you calling him names Jake”

“I was angry, at myself, I should have been the one to find Lo’ak and protect him. You should have been home safe, I took that anger out in those words and I should not have” ___ took his face into her hands and kissed his cheeks, understanding him and his fears. He’s lost so much in his life, his brother, his legs, his friends who fought in the war…

“I see you” she kissed his lips “I see your fears”. Jake felt relieved, he didn’t deserve her or her kindness. The man leant down and smooched her stomach, feeling a kick on his nose, ___ giggled “seems the little one is punishing you”

“I deserve it” he chuckled. He was glad that his family was intact and safe, he would need to put up watches tonight, afraid anything else would happen. But somehow, he knew, this was not the end.

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sentientcave · 2 months

Text

It's WIP Wednesday once again! I've got some Impound for you because it's been a while and it's still not finished (I've been working on Sparrow instead and just hit 55k today which is pretty exciting).

Contains: Blue collar Simon, Price as a cop, petty nonsense from men who should know better, but they're unfortunately not very emotionally intelligent

That’s when he saw the cruiser, parked on the street out front, too close to the fire hydrant.

Not blocking it, exactly, but still too close. If it were anyone else, he’d’ve let it slide, since the fire crew would still be able to get to the hydrant. But it was Price, and he’d just warned him about this very thing.

He pulled out his phone. “Hey, Johnny?” he said as soon as the line picked up, not waiting for Johnny to speak. “Send Roach out to city hall. Got someone parked by a fire ‘ydrant.”

“Fer fuck’s sake, Si, isnae the feckin’ cop again?”

“It is. I’ll come round to handle the paperwork. Won’t make you do it.”

“Awlright, but dinnae let him catch Roach at it neither. Ye know he’ll say somethin’ stupid and get his arse arrested.”

“Oh I know. Lad dun’t know ‘ow to keep his trap shut.” Simon hung up and headed back inside, hardly paying attention to the meeting, his eyes flicking back to Price over and over again, and holding whenever he found Price looking back. It was clear that neither of them retained anything said, too busy glaring at each other over the heads of the people sitting between them.

Simon got out of the building first, and stood off to the side to smoke another cigarette, leaning against a tree where he could get a good view of Price’s reaction when he came out to find his cruiser missing yet again.

He didn’t disappoint. He came out of the building a few minutes after the initial crush of humanity, talking to Kate and Nikolai. Price stopped in his tracks a little ways out the door, focused in on where his cruiser was supposed to be, and immediately scanned the vicinity, his whole body going rigid, hands tightening into fists, shoulders squared up for war, jaw set like concrete. His blazing blue eyes found Simon, and he marched over without saying a word, leaving Nikolai and Kate looking confused, and then amused when they realized what must have happened.

Price stopped in front of him, fury radiating off of him like heat off an engine, all that energy practically warping the space between them. “What’s your fuckin’ problem, mate?” he asked, jabbing a finger against Simon’s chest.

“No problem. I was ‘ere the whole time, wasn’t I?” Simon batted Price’s hand away, resisting the impulse to punch him for having the nerve to lay his bloody hands on him in the first place. Price was lucky that Simon was so rehabilitated now. That he had his temper on a good strong leash these days. “If you din’t want to get towed, you shunt’ve parked there. Not my problem if my people know ‘ow to do their jobs and you ‘aven’t got a clue ‘ow to do yours.”

“You don’t want to start a war with me, son,” Price growled.

Simon leaned forward, the barest curve of a smile on his lips, eyes narrowed and flinty. To his credit, Price didn’t flinch, didn’t move back, didn’t drop his eyes. He wasn’t intimidated by Simon’s size, like a lesser man would be. “You don’t want to start a war with me, old man.” He wasn’t sure there was much difference in their ages, if any, but if Price was going to try and talk down to him with the son shite than Simon was going to shovel it right back, like he was an unruly teenager in a rebellious phase. “I’m not goin’ to be pushed around by a fuckin’ badge. You don’t get special treatment because you wear a bloody uniform.”

Price’s jaw clenched even tighter. He had an impressive scowl, one that could probably level anyone else. “Watch yourself,” he grit out, like each word cost him something to force from his mouth.

Simon leaned a little closer. Their noses were almost touching. He could feel the currents of air stirred up by Price’s breath on his own face. “Or what?” he asked.

“Or else,” Price said, too angry to come up with anything resembling a real threat.

Simon pulled back with an amused grunt, and turned away, glancing over his shoulder dismissively. “See you as the impound lot, hm? I’ll be waitin’.”

In the end, it was Gaz who came around to pick up the cruiser.

#WIP WEDNESDAY BAYBEE #Impound #Chanting: Kiss him Kiss him Kiss him #PriceGhost #Fic In Progress

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leclsrc · 1 year

Note

heyy, could u write the "resting the head on their shoulder" prompt? or the five fights, whatever u prefer 🩷

last anon was for charles, sorry! 🩷

felt the rush – cl16

genre: fluff (no bluff. like dont b fooled this is not angst for once..!), slight nsfw tonesss, sainz!reader

auds here… multitasked & combined like 3 reqs to make this omds… so it runs a tad long. title from this

send for the five times they almost get into a fight and the one time they do.

You squeak when you exit your closet, still in the middle of zipping up your dress. “What are you doing here?!”

Charles is lying on your bed, wearing your robe that looks entirely too tight on him and makes him look like a stripper, eating a chunk of chocolate. He spots you and gets up quickly, before you can utter another word—before he gets any nearer, you raise a stiff hand.

“Step any closer and I’ll yell.”

“You’re no fun.” He pops the chocolate into his mouth. “I like your dress. And new nail colour?”

It’s a Dior dress. And deep red. “We’re supposed to be avoiding each other,” you retort instead, rolling your eyes. If the last few times you’d almost been caught being fucked within an inch of your life by your brother’s teammate were any indication, the sneaking around was getting too risky to bear for either of you.

“Like I said! You’re no fun.” Charles tuts.

“Well, a sex fast isn’t supposed to be fun, tonto.” You tap your pointer finger against the temple of your head. “Think about it. It’s supposed to be effective.”

“The real effective thing is…” he hums, murmuring something in Italian, lost momentarily in thought.

You clear your throat. “Yeah, the real effective thing is you wearing my robe. You look like my abuela.”

He haughtily crosses his arms. “I was going to say that the method that’s most effective is just having sex until neither of us can.”

An irritated (but still as beautiful, he thinks) face stares him down, despite the height difference. “I am not getting an STD.”

“They say too much of anything is bad for you,” he elaborates. “The more sex we have, the less we’ll end up wanting each other.” He nears you, lips curling into a teasing smile. “You know this is a good idea.”

The logic is so stupid it seems to work, but before you can even voice assent, your maid Bianca pushes the door open, her eyes wide with the reaction that comes from evident eavesdropping. “No! Miss, no. Él es malo para ti. Carlito se pondrá furioso!”

You squeeze your eyes shut, letting the voice of reason wash over you. Before this escalates into a fight even further, you resolve it yourself. “Get out. And take off my robe, abuela.”

—

How things came to be with him, you can barely even remember. It started when he became teammates with your brother, and all of a sudden everything was confusingly imprecise, a mess of sex and alcohol and bad decisions, quickly followed by kisses and cuddles and sweet moments. You can’t even blame yourself for not being able to label the relationship, even having to consult Bianca to help out (to no avail).

But whatever the relationship is, you know Carlos won’t be happy if he finds out there’s something between you and Charles. Charles, who is buckling his belt and picking up a bundle of lace from the floor. You adjust your tiny skirt, eye his hand, make a dive for your underwear. But he’s quicker, making sure you can’t reach them.

“Give them back,” you demand firmly. “Those cost 200 euros.”

“For this?” He dangles the flimsy material in between you both. “This is like a scrap of fabric. Well, they are very pretty. Though not as pretty as what’s undern—”

“Shut up!” Your face burns with embarrassment and irritation, hands still fruitlessly attempting to grab the panties from his. “You’re so annoying.”

“I will shut up,” he says, “and you and I can stop fighting like this, if you just let me keep them.”

“Perv.” You cross your arms, eyebrows arched.

He pockets them, watches you remain quiet but annoyed. “See? Fight resolved, principessa.” He pecks a quick kiss to your cheek and you gasp with surprise as he ducks out of your hotel room.

—

You’re watching the race when Charles gets P1 and your brother gets P2. Reasonably, the garage is bubbling with excitement and alcohol, your and Charles’ families join the throng on the paddock congratulating them both for a race well done.

Somewhere in the middle of celebrations you’re pulled into an empty closet, populated only by oil and cleaning supplies, feverish kisses pressed all over your neck. You gasp into his mouth, hurried by his hands sneaking up your dress. “Careful with the”—you gasp, his lips against your inner thigh—“dress, it’s Hermés.” He nods.

“I—” You pause, breath hitching. “I saw on F1 Gossip, you have a new girlfriend.” The image of her selfie flashes white hot in your head and you roll your eyes.

“Rumors.” Charles grunts irritably, burying his face in between your tits.

You knot lithe fingers into his fluffy hair, pull him toward your face so you can let him kiss you again. It moves fast, like all your trysts do. “You follow her,” you pant after two kisses, “you follow her on Instagram.” Your legs wrap loosely around him, your hips bucking up to seek friction.

There is a silent question hanging like rain clouds over both your heads: why are you so worked up? After all, hadn’t you both agreed to keep labels off the relationship? Still, you’re petty, a bit jealous, and the emotions incite your best detective tendencies. He just makes disapproving noises, moving onto his knees to lift the hem of your already short dress higher.

His eyes meet yours, fingers at the waistband of your panties. Clearly you refuse to let the issue die. “We’re just friends,” he says.

“And I’m just a teammate’s sister,” you quip sharply. “No sex. Until I get the truth.”

He laughs against your thigh, shaking his head as he stands up. “You overreact. You are jealous.”

“I’m not.” You insist petulantly, crossing your arms over your chest because you can feel his eyes flickering toward it. “Spill!”

To shut down the pending fight, he does. “We really are just friends—fans need drama. You’re my only principessa, okay?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll fuck you another time.”

Despite yourself, you ask: “Promise?”

—

“Te gusta él,” Bianca says when she’s depositing your clean laundry into your wardrobe. You bite on a chocolate, stockings-clad legs bending as you adjust yourself on your bed to answer her statement.

“Qué quieres decir?” You pause, angry. “Bianca, you’re going crazy. I don’t like Charles, for your information. It’d be wrong. Do you have any idea how angry Carlos would be?”

Shame and anxiety boil low in your stomach. She tuts and right as she’s exiting—“I never even said his name, amor.”

—

You realize things have changed when he’s helping you clasp your bra back on and kissing you the entire time. When you’re whispering good luck to him before he’s off to race, in your illicit hiding places. When he kisses not your lips, not your neck or cheek—but your forehead, the small of your back, your shoulder.

When you can successfully pull off telepathic conversations, across meeting halls or dining tables. What are you doing later? I’ll text you my room. Okay. Stop staring. No, you. Want a drink? Wanna sneak off? It’s a talent, a skill you’ve honed from the periods of secret sex.

You’re laughing into his mouth, brushing your hair into a neater mess, when someone knocks on the bathroom door. “Hello?” Carlos calls.

Your eyes widen. Let me do the talking.

Okay. He nods briefly. “Just a minute!” You both yell, at the same time. And you’re fucked. So is the telepathy, apparently.

Carlos pushes the flimsy lock open, enters with a bewildered expression on his face—one belonging to perhaps the only clueless person in the entire garage; nay, the entire fucking paddock. All at once, random expletives and questions leave him in Spanish, but you answer just as quickly, and the whole thing escalates into a quickfire question and answer.

“You stay away from my sister.” He points at his teammate, aghast. “Ella es mi hermana pequeña! Ay, dios mio. Ay! You’re a man-whore. A man-whore—!”

Ten minutes later they’re reluctantly getting along, both sipping water to calm them down. The anger is replaced by awkwardness at that point, and you’re in the thick of it, reassuring your brother in calm tones to make sure he doesn’t start throwing around the word man-whore ever again. After his brief burst of frustration that Bianca got to know before he did, he eventually quiets down himself.

“So?” Carlos asks, shrugging. “Qué tipo de relación tienes?” He cocks his head to the side, gesturing to the awkward Charles a few feet away. It’s a loaded question, one you’ve asked yourself a million times since you started fooling around. You’d felt something then, and God if you don’t feel it all now, a rush of emotion when you see him across the garage or pressed up against you in ratty closets.

The connection might’ve been hasty, spontaneous, illicit, but it will always remain there even if you try to deny it. So even if it’s difficult to admit—you know the answer. It’s so easy you could answer Carlos’ question in your sleep. You could tell him how often you think of Charles, how sweet he is, how his kisses stick themselves onto you like invisible lovebites, and how you hope you’ll never stop thinking and feeling. But for now, one label is enough.

You stare, and Charles smiles. “He’s my boyfriend.”

#f1 #charles leclerc #leclsrc2000 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

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celandeline · 4 months

Text

Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (18)

My fatal flaw is that I can’t say no to Venetia. I’ve known since I met her, when I moved into our suite at Cambridge, that I wasn’t going to be able to say no to her - not when she’s as pretty as she is and as pitiful. Which is how I find myself singing karaoke in the library with Venetia.

I didn’t know the words to Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears before Venetia pulled me out of my seat. I doubt that I’ll remember anything I’ve sung after we finish given how much wine I had at dinner. But it makes her smile, and everyone scattered on the couches around the rooms claps when we’re done.

I hand off my microphone to another of the Henrys, and flop down on the couch, next to Felix. Venetia perches between our laps, one leg over mine, one leg over her brothers - her right arm around Felix’s shoulders, her left hand laid on my thigh. I wrap my free arm around her waist, and tuck my head into the junction between her neck and her shoulder, watching as the Henry who took the microphone from me starts to swagger as Flo Rida’s Low starts playing.

“Oh god.” Venetia laughs as an exasperated sigh leaves Felix.

It’s very evident right from the start that he’s not very good. It’s made even worse by the way his British accent tries to mimic Flo Rida’s tone. I huff out a laugh as he shrugs off his jacket, tossing it to a woman that I presume is how wife.

Felix is the first one to call it quits. “Alright, fuck this. I'm getting a drink.”

“Me too.” Venetia says, rising from her spot in Felix and I’s laps. “Coming Evie?”

I stand up with them, fixing the straps of my borrowed dress. “‘Course.”

I follow them back into the dining room, leaving the library behind us, letting the noise of the karaoke fade into the background. In the dining room, the plates and silverware have been cleared away, but the bar is still set up to the side of the room.

Felix gets there first, pulling three glasses over from the side. “What do you drink, Evie?”

“Depends.” I say. “What are the options?”

“Anything you want.” He says, pouring himself some whiskey that looks like it costs five times my rent in New York. He starts on Venetia’s drink, pouring gin, vermouth and bitter campari into the same glass, and swirling it all around a few times before handing it to her.

“Some tequila would be good.” I say.

Felix grabs a bottle and pours me a healthy helping, and drops a lime wedge into the drink for good measure. “Alright?” He asks, handing the glass to me.

“Yeah, thanks.” I say, taking a small sip. The tequila burns, just a little, the impact softened by the wine that’s already in my system.

Venetia grins as she sips her own drink. “Nobody makes a negroni like you, Fi.”

Felix scoffs, and downs his glass of whiskey like it’s a shot before pouring himself another. “I’m sure you’ve had better negronis than that.”

“I didn’t say it was good.” Venetia says. “Just that nobody makes them like you.”

“Shove off.” Felix says, but there’s no bite in it.

Glasses in hand, we wander back to the library. The song changes abruptly as we slip back into the room, as I spot Farleigh at the karaoke machine, sorting through the selection, microphone in hand.

“Okay, well done Henry, that was great. Round of applause for Henry…” He grins as he finds the song he wants, and stands back up to his full height. “Okay now it’s time to take things up a notch. We have someone here who is a very talented singer.”

The intro to Rent, by the Pet Shop Boys begins to play. I turn to Venetia, already knowing what he’s going to do before he does it, but she’s only smiling, not recognizing the song.

Farleigh turns towards Oliver, that wry smile on his face. “He’s your best friend and mine: Oliver Quick!”

“No, no, no…!” Oliver protests as Farleigh grabs his hand.

Farleigh only smiles as he pries Oliver out of his seat and presses the microphone into his hand. “Yes, yes, yes… don’t be shy!”

Oliver stumbles forward, pushed by Farleigh, wide-eyed. “I don’t even know this song!”

From the couch, James claps his hands. “The words are on the screen, Oliver! That's the best bit! That's the best bit!”

The first verse of the song starts, and Oliver starts to sing, a little off the melody, but smiling anyway. Farleigh sidles up to me, a playful smile on his face. “What’re you drinking?”

“Tequila.” I say, holding my glass out to him.

He takes it, and swigs some into his mouth before handing it back to me.

I keep eye contact as I take a sip, sure to place my lips right over where his just were. “You’re cruel, you know. Making him sing this song.”

His grin widens. “You know this song?”

“Yeah.” I say. “My mom loves the Pet Shop Boys. She’s always playing them around the house. Says they remind her of the ‘good ‘ol days’ before she had kids.”

“Harsh.” Farleigh laughs.

“Either way, it’s mean.” I say.

“Shhh, he hasn’t realized yet.” He says, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it with glee as he watches Oliver stumble along to the music. I watch as Elspeth realizes exactly what song is playing, casting a look at James. The cheering only gets quieter as more and more of the crowd realize where this is going.

The music swells into the chorus, and the lyrics change on the screen. I watch Oliver’s face shift as he reads the words, and the joke dawns on him all at once. He falters only for a moment before he finishes it off.

“I love you, you pay my rent.”

Full of malicious glee, Farleigh whoops. “Whoo! You tell ‘em!”

“Farleigh.” Felix’s voice is low. I glance over to him to see a glower on his face, not unlike his expression at the breakfast table the night after Venetia’s moonlit escapade.

“What?” Farleigh mocks innocence.

Whatever Felix is about to say is cut off by Oliver. “This is your song as well Farleigh, come finish it.” His tone is friendly, but his stare is anything but. A shiver runs up my spine just looking at him.

Still, Farleigh grins. “Only if you insist.” He tucks his cigarette between my lips before dashing away, taking the mic from Oliver. He doesn’t have to look at the screen to know the words, and he leans into the performance, dancing and spinning the wire of the microphone as he croons.

I puff on his cigarette as he looks over to me and winks.

< previous part | next part >

#farleigh start x oc #farleigh start x reader #saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh x reader #saltburn x reader

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arichaa · 5 months

Text

Taking care of Akaza's wounds

Hi! This is my first oneshot... I just hope you'll like it ♡ So it talks about Akaza being injured and we take care of his wounds yeah? Alright good good hahahahahahahhhahahahahahha

Precisions: Female human reader; Akaza's personality is like... shy, maybe a little bit tsundere? And too proud to show weakness; the infinity castle dynamic isn't like the one in the anime, but it's more like a big big house where they all live together or smth; Demons can be injured and don't have any regenerations abilites.

Nobody knows why Muzan needed a human in the Infinity Castle. Y/N might be important for his plans. She seems to know that she has no choice and is conscious of her duty in all this. A duty no one else needed to know. Muzan commanded the Upper Moon 3, Akaza, to protect her at all cost. To be her "bodyguard" when she needed to go outside the Castle, for instance.

Y/N is always kind and respectful with the Uppers Moons. She doesn't know them personally and some of them scare her, so she decided to interact with them only when needed. She knows what demons are capable of, although she tries to comfort herself into thinking that they would never disobey their master by hurting her. Or worse.

What doesn't help is that she's absolutely beautiful. Irresistible. So elegant. Pretty inside and outside. The fact that she blushes and loses her grip when someone compliments her accentuates her beauty. The Upper Moon 2 just has no shame in making her uncomfortable using this weakness, but it's just to tease her, according to him.

When it comes to Upper Moon 3, he doesn't care about her link with Muzan or what she is here for. Because why would he? Muzan didn't thought it was necessary to inform them about anything. No. What he cares about is her as a person. He gives his all. He gives his all to not embrace her tightly when she's worried. He gives his all to not absolutely destroy this colored eyed idiot's face everytime he pronouces a syllable directed at her. His all to have a non emotional discussion everytime he talks with her. He tried everything. Nothing worked. Maybe it's because Y/N stayed here for too long... no... just one month? He has never been like this, in his demon life and human life. He knows it's wrong, so he keeps giving his all desesperately. -----------------------------------------

Upper Moon 3 has been training with his colleague, Upper Moon 1, Kokushibo. He doesn't shows any mercy in his trainings, but that's a sign he appreciates him and wants him to get stronger. Akaza would rather die than ask him to be less harsh with him. He keeps collecting bruises and other injuries, but he doesn't talks about them because he just doesn't want to bring attention to him and show any signs of weakness.

Y/N is cleaning the kitchen. She doesn't have anything to do so why not? She hums, rearranges a little. Akaza happens to walks into her. There she is. Not that he looked for her. And if he was, it would only be to assure her protection. Nothing else. Come on. He knows he can't convince himself into thinking that. She didn't noticed him yet, tiptoeing to reach a bowl on the shelf. She looks adorable as always. He swallows, then clears his throat to annouce his presence. She looks behind her shoulder.

Y/N: Ah... Akaza dono, good evening.

Akaza: Good evening, Y/N.

Y/N: How was your day?

Akaza: Not bad, thank you.

Y/N: Good then...

They just look at each other, not knowing what else to say. Maybe he should leave now. It's just a greeting. The more Y/N looks at Akaza, the more she turns around completely to face him.

Y/N: Akaza dono.

What? What does she want? She swallows again, apprehending.

Akaza: Yes, Y/N?

The way she looks at him, it doesn't look good for him. She approaches him, looks at his chest. His wounded body. Then she looks back at his eyes

Y/N: You look severly injured. Is it because of your trainings?

Akaza is taken aback. He doesn't know how to respond correctly.

Akaza: Ah... "Severly" is a big word don't you think?

She tucks her hair behind her ear. Trying to keep composure.

Y/N: I picked this word because that's the only accurate one. *sighs* Don't you think you should... take breaks sometimes? Or, at least treat your wounds?

She knows these kinds of words might upset demons, so she tries to keep a calm voice to balance. He is the last person she wants to upset. Akaza doesn't know what to think. She is the last person he wanted to attract pity from. Yet he likes that she is worried about him.

Akaza: My... wounds don't need to be treated. And I don't have time to rest.

Y/N bites her lip, thinks for a second and takes his hand before walking towards her room. Akaza is absolutely flabbergasted. Of course it wasn't the first time they had physical contact. It would happen when he had to carry her around or when she tripped. But this time, it is initiated by her. He can do nothing but follow her. His neurones are all focused on her soft, small hand. They arrive in front of her door and Akaza regains composure.

Akaza: Y/N... What is this?

She looks at him, flustered

Y/N: I... Please... Let me take care of your wounds. I know you will never do it.

Take care of his wounds. That's what she wants to do. But Akaza is the one supposed to protect her. He doesn't want to be a burden to anyone, especially to Y/N.

Akaza: I'm not letting you do that.

She opens the door and slowly pulls his hand to make him enter. It's crazy how he can't even make himself clear to a human. To a woman. No. To Y/N.

Y/N: With all respect... Please sit down. I hope to see you in my room when I'll come back.

She leaves the room and runs to another. While Akaza, still standing, puts his hand on his hips, sighing from embarassement. He wonders how he managed to get himself in this situation. He just goes to sit on her bed, waiting for Y/N to come back. When she does, Akaza sees in her hands an aid kit, with everything needed for a healing session. She closed the door then goes sit next to him, at his right.

Y/N: Hearing you refusing my hand, I thought you would leave unnoticed.

She plans to do this step by step, his right arm first. She takes his hand again, his palm showing. Y/N just stares at his limb. Bruises and cuts everywhere. She wouldn't have survived if she had all these injuries. Or maybe she worried too much. After all, Akaza is strong, well build... Those muscles... She swallows then focuses on her mission.

Akaza: I appreciate your concern, but I really don't need all this.

Y/N: Cuts are open doors for infections. It can end badly, Akaza dono.

He sighs. That's too much for him. He already loved her to death. She didn't need to do this. Y/N looks at his arms, while he looks at her. Her focused expression makes his heart beat like drums. They're so close he can hear her breathing. That little mouth makes him imagine situations. It's the same thing on Y/N's side. She tries to keep a regular breathing. While she puts cottons on his cuts, she also tries to caress his skin for her own pleasure. Maybe it's inappropriate. But as long as he doesn't notice.

Of course he did. He hopes with all his soul she doesn't look at him to see a blushing Upper Moon. Y/N goes towards the shoulder to try and heal his wounds. Just the perfect height to hold her close. Her close presence distracts him from the stinging of the alcohol. They have been silent for a while now. They both know they should say something.

Y/N: If there's any intern injuries, I'm afraid I won't be able to help.

Akaza: There isn't. And you're doing enough, thank you for this.

She now treats his chest, full of deep cuts. That chest of his she always had to look away from. She touches him with her fingertips, evaluationg the seriousness of each bruise. While Akaza seats here, not moving. If he does nothing, he can't do something bad. He stiffens everytime she touches him.

The neck is the next step. While Y/N does her magic, she glances sometimes at his face, admiring his features. His cheeks so kissable. His little nose she wants to rub hers against. His eyes reminding her of a sunny day. She finds it ironic because Akaza can't go out in the sun. That mouth makes her lose her mind. And his hair urging her to caress it. Akaza looks back at her. Her heart does backflips.

Y/N: Ah! I was just... uh... checking if there's any wounds on your face. Yeah...

Akaza: I didn't say anything.

Y/N: Haha, indeed...

Well that's embarassing. She ends her awkward laugh with a sad smile. Akaza can be cold, but never mean, especially to Y/N. She knows it. And the Upper 3 just tried to not let himself do something he might regret by avoiding eye contact. But her stare was too long to avoid it indefinitely. And why did he have to say that? Out of all the other things he could've answered with... Akaza becomes more self conscious and tries to control his gestures and strength. He doesn't want to scare or hurt her.

Now they exchange words about the other moons, his injuries and other small talks. That makes them feel more comfortable. Y/N even starts to hum. She's almost done with the last body part she needs to treat, his left arm. She put bandages on each cuts. After finishing his hand, she brings it to her lips, closes her eyes and kisses it... kisses it?

Her brain is still trying to process what she just did. After all, that cutie used to take care of her nieces and other children's bruises and kept the reflex of the kiss on the little boo-boo. Heck she even made that "mwah" sound... She stayed on automatic mode for too long. What is she supposed to do now? Pretend it didn't happen? Apologize? Leave the room? She just keep looking at his hand and swallows. She is anxious about what would happen if she makes eye contact.

Akaza's brain is in the same state as hers. He can't even breathe anymore. She did it first. He can't do this anymore.

Y/N: ...Wait... let me explain, it's a ref...

The demon gently holds Y/N's hand, guides it towards his mouth and puts his lips on her fingers while closing his eyes. She didn't miss a second of that. Their movement are now only fueled with want. She looks so moved by his gesture. Y/N comes closer and caresses his cheek. He leans in her touch, pressing her hand with his.

Y/N: Akaza dono... I...

Akaza: Shhh... no need for words...

Akaza takes her in his arms, holding her tight. Her eyes are wide open as he shoves his face in her neck. She gently pushes him to make him lie on the bed so she can cuddle with him, her head against his chest. She tighens her hug by embracing his waist. And of course he lets her do whatever she wants with him. They both dreamed about it. They don't care about consequences now.

Akaza: Y/N... I know I shouldn't but... I'm in love with you. From day one. This moment between us, it was the last straw.

Y/N: I see... *chuckles* I love you too, Akaza dono...

Akaza leans in for a kiss. He slowly catches her lower lip between his, as she wraps her arms around his neck, and his around her waist. As sweet as he imagined. She intensifies the kiss by caressing his hair. She keeps kissing his cheeks, lips and nose while he blushes and smiles. He would've never thought she was the kind to show that much affection and he loves it. Y/N kisses him one last time on the chest and closes her eyes to feel his embrace.

Y/N: *whispers* I know your containing your strength. Don't hold back and hug me really tight. I need to feel you.

She didn't need to say more. He makes himself more comfortable and holds her for all the times he couldn't while putting his cheek on her head.

Akaza: *whispers* You can call me Akaza from now on.

#akaza x y/n #akaza headcanons #akaza x reader #akaza #akaza oneshot #akaza fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #upper moons #upper moon 3 #demon slayer #demon slayer headcanons #kny #kny headcanons

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