Tumgik
#I’m trying to do one a day but I keep getting headaches
Text
Tumblr media
in love with the mess - day nine
summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?
content : smut (p in v, dirty talk), angst, drinking, fluff
length : 6.5k
tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @blacksoul-27 @somebodyels3 @kageyasma @spikeisdaddy @broken0mens
a/n : Here's to hoping this is not as shit as my brain keeps trying to convince me it is. Also apologies to @veronicaphoenix​, maybe do some of the meditation you mentioned in your last comments before reading 😅
•••
day nine
I woke up with a headache, Oli’s arms around me and… a tongue on my cheek? It certainly had me more awake than my alarm did. With utter confusion, I pulled away, only to see Oli licking his lips. When my hand traced my cheek I felt something sticky that definitely wasn’t just his saliva.
“We forgot about the chocolate,” he laughed. “Looks like one of them melted and got stuck to your cheek.”
“And obviously your first idea was to lick it off me.”
“What can I say, I like to get my tongue on you.”
“Fucking hell,” I complained, but he knew I didn’t mean it. I still ended up pushing him off as he tried to reach for my cheek again. “Time to get up, Liverpool’s waiting.”
I didn’t want to look in the mirror. I could feel my swollen eyes, remnants of yesterday’s crying session. But it was no use. As soon as Oli left for his own room, I ventured into the bathroom, assessing the damage and trying to control it as much as possible with make-up. No one needed to see that far into my private life just from the state of my face.
I didn’t allow myself to linger, though. Getting ready, packing my things, shoving my suitcase into the trailer, catching a few more breaths of fresh air before bus call. It would have to do.
Noah was leaning against the wall next to the entrance of the hotel, sunglasses on even in the low light, scrolling his phone, looking bored out of his mind. I’d almost managed to forget last night’s text. The turmoil they’d added to my already existent worries. But it came crashing back now, with a single look at him.
Only, when I approached him, he seemed to pretend nothing at all had happened.
“I’m a bit fragile today,” he groaned, giving me a brief hug and a smile. It bothered me that I couldn’t see his eyes. And that he wasn’t acting differently at all. As if I hadn’t brushed him off yesterday.
“Are we seriously not going to talk about those texts?” I asked, more harshly than I meant to.
Noah looked nothing short of surprised. “Texts?”
“Do you… do you seriously not remember texting me last night? Fucking hell, Noah, how much did you have to drink?”
He sheepishly unlocked his phone again, scrolling through our conversation, the realisation dawning on his face. It quickly turned into what I could only describe as regret. “Fuck, it was… I definitely had some drinks.”
I craved being angry. I craved pushing him away, physically too, yelling at him for the emotional chaos he kept putting me through, but there was no fight left in me that morning. Not after last night, after I’d cried my eyes out to Oli, a resounding headache proof of it.
“You can’t keep doing this,” I sighed, resigned. I put a hand up to my forehead, pressing against the pounding that seemed to increase my the minute. “You can’t say you only want fun and then turn around and do things like these. It’s not fair to me. It’s not fair to any of us.”
Noah was reaching for me. I found myself taking a step back, but his hand still touched my arm and I let him. As I always let him.
“Aubrey…”
He didn’t get to say whatever was on his mind. A shy voice appeared out of nowhere - not really out of nowhere, but my focus had been entirely on the man in front of me - asking if Noah had a moment for a picture. His whole demeanour changed in an instant, my Noah was buried under Noah Sebastian from Bad Omens, happily agreeing but making sure the fan knew he had to leave for the bus soon. They’d snapped a photo or two when I noticed that her eyes were moving back and forth between the two of us.
“I probably shouldn’t ask,” she admitted, rushing her words. “But are you two together? I saw a picture online where you were holding hands and I just wanted to say that you look so cute together and I promise I won’t tell anyone if you tell me!”
Out of all the things I could have possibly expected, this wasn’t one of them. Noah and I? A picture? My brain rattled. Someone must have spotted us in Newcastle when I took him shopping. Where he indeed held my hand. And now there was a photo, possibly all over the internet, causing rumours of all sorts. I looked toward Noah, trying to hide my emerging panic. He knew I needed him to take the lead.
“Aubrey works with Oli actually,” he explained, putting his hand around my shoulders and pulling me close, which felt rather unnecessary in the situation. “We like to hang out. But thank you.”
It felt like a cop-out. He hadn’t outright told her that we weren’t a couple. But he also hadn’t said that we were. Somehow, I wished he had been more adamant into one direction. Either of them. Just to hear him take a clear stand, for once.
The situation was interrupted by someone calling my name now, someone from our crew letting me now it was time to get on the bus within the next five minutes. I gave him a nod. Noah was saying goodbye to the fan, waiting for her to be a certain distance from us, before putting his attention back on me.
“Aubrey…” he started once again.
“I’ll have to get on the bus. I’ll see you when we’re in Liverpool.”
I didn’t leave immediately. At least not until Noah gave me a sad nod and removed his arm from my body. It felt all wrong.
•••
All I wanted to do was call Lia. But knowing her schedule, she was in the middle of work. Plus, there was currently no place on the bus that gave me any sort of privacy and it definitely wasn’t going to be a conversation I needed anyone to overhear. Oli, on the other hand, very much was on the phone, waving everyone away who came close enough to potentially overhear. I ventured into the little lounge at the back of the bus instead. Lee and Mat were, once again hooked to the playstation. I wondered how bands had ever survived before tour busses offered consoles.
“Hey, stranger,” Mat smiled, beckoning me to come in and patting the seat next to him. “Long time no see.”
It was true. On tours we’d been on before, I’d almost become a staple to the group. Most of the time, if only what I thought was by association to Oli, I ended up hanging out with them more than the crew. But this tour had taken me for a toll. Not only had I been spending out with just Oli a lot more, Noah had also appeared in the picture and monopolised the time I usually spend with the rest of the band. I felt a little awkward, now, dropping myself onto the couch next to Mat, but he seemed to pay no mind to it.
I watched as they played, both Mat and Lee attempting to make a little small talk, but both of them also much too invested in winning their round to concentrate much on anything else.
“Fuck that, I’m getting some beer,” Lee announced, getting up and throwing his controller my way.
“Bit early?”
“We’re on tour, Aubrey, time doesn’t mean anything. Now take over for me and kick Mat’s arse, he’s been fucking annoying.”
I didn’t wait to be told twice, motioning for Mat to start another round. We both knew I barely had a chance against him - as much as I enjoyed the occasional game, he had insane amounts of practice on me. The only thing I’d ever beating him in was Mario Kart. I hadn’t let him live that one down yet.
“You’re keeping Oli on his toes, you know?”
I kept myself from turning toward him, questioningly staring at the screen instead, where I desperately tried to keep myself alive.
“Pretty much it’s the other way. I am working for him and he makes sure I don’t forget that.”
Mat chuckled next to me, “He has you running around a lot, hasn’t he? You’re also running around in his mind though.”
“Mat, that’s fucking cheesy,” I replied, so aghast that I looked away from the screen for a second to long. He didn’t waste any time finishing my character off. Putting his hands in the air with a noise of success, I stole the main controller away from him and made quick work of changing the game to Mario Kart.
“Not a lie though,” he laughed, letting me pick my one gaming strength without complaints. “He does care, you know.”
“He can be a fucking dickhead,” I replied, chucking the controller back to him and choosing a character with my own.
I mentally moved the pictures of him holding me and listening to my worries just the night before away. Instead, I forced myself to think about his teasing, about how non-committal he was, about how he never really seemed to speak his mind. Even when I talked to him and Noah at the pub that night, he simply agreed with whatever the other man had suggested and made a joke out of it. I hadn’t forgotten that.
“He’s trying,” Mat sighed. The countdown was on the screen now, briefly capturing our attention as we tried to get the perfect start. “I’m not sure if it’s showing, but he is. And he can’t fucking stop talking about you. The guys and I have considered making you a banned topic when we’re together.”
The blush rose up on my cheeks. I was well aware that many of my waking hours were spent thinking about Oli or Noah or both of them. Somehow, it hadn’t quite crossed my mind that it would be the same for them. The fact that I was occupying his brain even when I wasn’t around left a giddiness in me that I harshly chased away.
“I don’t know if trying is good enough,” I admitted, throwing another shell that hit Mat dead on behind me. “I’m not here to fix him or make him better.”
“You’re already doing that, just by existing.”
I wasn’t sure if I’d ever heard Mat talk like that. I didn’t want to linger on it, instead making quick work of crossing the finishing line with just a minor lead. Mat grumbled something about needing a beer, too, and how he kept getting tricked into playing Mario Kart with him as if he hadn’t willingly participated. He was almost out the door, when he turned around.
“By the way, what the fuck is going on with him and Noah?”
I bit back the smile. “I have no fucking clue.”
It wasn’t even a lie.
•••
Oli was a bundle of energy. We’d successfully checked in and made our way to the venue right next to the hotel, but no one was ready for soundcheck yet, so Oli was bouncing off the walls in between a few interviews, journalists coming and going as I sent him this room and that place to get it all done in time. It included reminded both him and the interviewers of the end of their allotted time when Oli simply wouldn’t stop talking.
“Coffee run?” Oli asked as we finally had a few minutes after the last interview. Bad Omens were busy soundchecking, leaving Bring Me with the later slot.
“Are you insane? The last thing you need is more caffeine.”
“At least get me some chips then. Being near the water makes me hungry.”
“How the fuck did you just change your mind from coffee to chips,” I asked, but I was already gathering my things to leave and figure out where to get what Oli desired.
“Don’t question the genius.”
“Alight, get your genius arse somewhere useful then until I’m back,” I scoffed as I left.
Luckily, my phone directed me quite easily to the nearest chip shop only a few minutes away on the dock. I made the best of the time and finally dialled Lia’s number, praying she’d be at her regularly scheduled break and available.
“What can I do for the number two angel in my life?” she greeted me enthusiastically.
“Only number two?” I tried to joke, but the words almost got caught in my throat. Just hearing her voice and feeling her love through the phone was enough to get me teary-eyed again.
“Oh, Aubrey, talk to me.”
She could always see through me so easily. It was eerie at times, but I’d grown so accustomed to putting on a poker face for so many people of my life that it felt rather freeing that I couldn’t even try to pretend in front of her.
“I’m in love,” it blubbered out of me before I could stop it. I dodged a few people who looked like they were heading to the gig tonight, keeping my head down just in case anyone would somehow recognise me. At least when I was on the verge of crying.
“And that is a bad thing?”
“Yes!” I almost shouted, briefly forgetting about my plan not to draw any attention to myself. “It is horrible. Because I’m in love with two fucking men who both told me they only want some fun.”
I wasn’t sure how long it took to fill her in with the happenings of the past days. Manchester already seemed like a lifetime ago with how much had gone down in the meantime. Lia was as quiet as she could be as the person that she was, which said a lot really, and I appreciated it. I simply needed to get it all out in one go before the nerve left me.
She stayed quiet for a little bit after that and I let her. I had long found the takeaway I’d been heading to, pacing back and forth in front of it, unable to keep still until I heard her judgement and, possibly, her advice.
“Two things,” she finally said. “One: Those boys are lying to you and to themselves because no one who just wants to get their dicks wet behaves like that. However, you can’t force them into anything they won’t admit to themselves. And unfortunately I have no way of telling if they’ll get a grip. I can offer to bash their heads in if they don’t though.” A choked chuckle erupted from my throat. “Two: You need to think about how much you can take and you need to be selfish. If your arrangement works for you, go do them as much as you like and enjoy it. But you’re hurting right now because you’re not getting what you need and what you deserve. And you’ve been down that road before. Don’t let yourself be destroyed just to be what you think someone else wants you to be. You’re worth so much more than that.”
“Lia, I…”
“Don’t answer any of that right now. Just think it over. I love you, okay? I need to get back to work now, but text or call me any time. I’m just a train ride away, always.”
I ended up with so many tears streaming down my face, the poor cashier at the chip shop barely understood my order.
•••
Noah was avoiding me, plain and simple. It was even that I’d actively attempted to speak to him again - after our short talk this morning and Lia’s reassurance, it felt justified to expect him to come to me if he had anything to say. However, it remained painfully obvious that he would turn the other way if he saw me in the hallway, move to a different room if I entered and absolutely refuse to make eye contact through it all. It was starting to grind my gears.
I decided to move back to Oli’s dressing room, spending the time before the show would start with him. At least he wasn’t running from me. He was sitting in the farthest corner of the room, facing the door, and yet, as soon as he saw me, he snapped his laptop shut so quickly I feared it was going to break.
“Secret mission?” I asked, brows raised, but never stopped approaching him. He made quick work of moving his stuff away from the couch so I could drop down next to him.
“You know it. Top secret. Highly confidential. Almost as well-guarded as our next album.”
“But hopefully not taking as long to reveal itself, whatever it is.”
“You’re a rude one, you know that?” Oli asked, but his tone was playful and his hand was messing with my hair. I swatted him away immediately. “Rude and annoyed. What’s up with you?”
I let out a massive sigh, much too big for my ribcage, and I felt the sting when I inhaled. One more look at the screen of my phone, but Noah still hadn’t given me any sign of life.
“Looking for jobs and places to stay again?” Oli guessed, incorrectly, but I didn’t want to tell him the truth anyway. The situation between the three of us was messed up enough, I didn’t need to come crying to him because of something Noah had or hadn’t done when he himself was involved with both of us.
“I would be okay with my few savings if it was just for the job search going badly, but now… A year ago, a would have just forced Lia to let me stay with her but she’s married and all honeymoon-ed up still and I’m definitely not bulldozing my way into that.”
I could tell he was thinking about saying something, an unhelpful comment, a plea for me to reconsider moving in with Lia temporarily, an empty phrase like it will work out, but I didn’t want or need any of it.
“Whatever. I’m done with the bad mood. You have a show to play and tomorrow we’ll be in Sheffield and we should concentrate on that.”
Oli grabbed my chin in his hand, dragging me toward him until he could place a kiss on my lips, his mouth so much softer than his fingers as they were digging into my skin. I let him, the way I let him do anything to me, turning into nothing but a soft body to do with as he pleased. It was over much too soon and I craved more, but I knew the time until he had to be on stage was ticking.
“Wanna do something fun?” he teased, smiling so brightly I could see the sharp edges of his vampire teeth peeking out.
“That sounds suspicious as hell, Oli.”
He leaned over toward the make-up table, grabbing a pencil I couldn’t quite see properly yet, before chucking it at me. Eyeliner. At least not the liquid type, but soft and waxy. I uncapped it and twisted a bit of it upward.
“Bet you’ve always wanted to do my make-up.”
The thing was - I did. I wasn’t particularly good at it, but I’d watched Oli paint his face, have MUAs do their magic, have him ask his bandmates for help if he deliberately went for a more smudged and untidy look. I’d always loved the way some black around his eyes made him look just that tiny bit more feminine, impossibly long lashes and gorgeous irises. I wasn’t sure how much of that he knew, but it was absolutely raising my spirits.
“Alright. Chair, now.”
Oli chuckled but didn’t resist, moving over to the chair in front of the make-up table and mirror. I surveyed what was available to me but ended up sticking with the eyeliner he had handed to me. It seemed like the safest option. Especially because I’d never put make up on anyone but myself.
I ordered him to close his eyes, deciding to start with his upper lid, and leaned down, but the position was hell on my back and the angle was weird. I tried to scoot another chair close, but then the distance was too large and my arm wouldn’t hold steady enough.
“Right, enough of that, c’mere.”
With a steady grasp, he held onto my hips, pulling me into his lap so I was straddling him. He looked awfully smug about it, too.
“I spend a lot of fucking time in your lap lately,” I mused, but I wasn’t really complaining. We both knew as much. My hands rested on his chest, the tip of the eyeliner almost threatening to touch his shirt and ruin it with black, waiting for him to resume his former position and close his eyes.
“Maybe it’s where you belong,” he whispered, pulling me closer, dragging his lips over the side of my neck, a feeling so soft and honest that I couldn’t tell him to stop just yet. His tongue was on my pulse point. I almost expected a bite to follow, something more harsh, him turning the delicate moment around, but it never came.
Instead, when he leaned back, mustering me but still not allowing me to continue trying to get some colour on his face, he said, “You should wear lipstick more often.”
My hand inadvertently moved to my lips, even though I knew they were bare. The only make up I was wearing had been meant to hide my cried out eyes from the night before, although some of it had shifted when the tears had returned on my call to Lia, but Oli never mentioned it and I silently thanked him for it.
“‘specially the type that stains,” he added.
I raised my eyebrows at him. “The type that stains?”
“Yeah. Not like the one two nights ago. Watched you kiss Noah and he didn’t even get a little bit of red on him.”
“Is that what you want? Lipstick stains?” I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at the thought. “All over you and Noah? Because I can make that happen.”
“Tomorrow,” he decided. “When I’m done with the social rounds back home and Drop Dead. I’m taking you and Noah out for dinner.”
I ignored the way my body craved to stiffen at the idea of meeting Noah. How I was still waiting for him to approach me, explain himself, apologise. We’d figure it out, in time. Surely. So, instead of letting my annoyance at him take over, I nodded at Oli.
“Tomorrow. Now hold the fuck still and let me do my work or you’ll end up with a fake moustache on your face after all.”
•••
I had just about finished drying my hair and pulling a ridiculously oversized shirt over my head after a shower that was so hot it probably would have left scorch marks on the devil, when a knock sounded on my door. The temptation to ignore it was high - all I really wanted was to fall into bed and ignore the world until my alarm went. But the knocking, once again, persisted, irregular noises that suggested whoever was in the corridor wouldn’t just leave.
Noah was drunk. I knew it immediately. It wasn’t the bottle of Hennessey in his hand or the smell of alcohol on his breath when he greeted me. It wasn’t even the way he leaned against the doorframe, not suave as he usually was, but clinging on for support. It was in his eyes.
“Fuck, Noah, what are you doing?”
“Lemme in, please?” His puppy dog eyes only managed to look like a grimace. “I just want to apologise. Really.”
He wasn’t completely gone and I thanked whoever was responsible for that because the last thing I needed was trying to maneuvre his tall ass into bed and holding his hair while he puked, but the drink had done enough to make him look at me differently, to hold himself with a different kind of effort. Maybe had done enough to make him be honest in a way he was unable to otherwise.
An older couple passed behind him, throwing me a questioning and potentially judgemental look at the way he swayed in my doorway, so I relented and pulled him in. No need for a public scene. Or people taking photos.
“Alright,” I decided, settling down on the ledge of my bed and pointing toward the armchair in the corner. “Sit and explain, then.”
I grabbed the bottle as he passed me, surprisingly not encountering any resistance or protest, and took a swing for good measure. Whatever he had to tell me, the alcohol would hopefully lessen the impact just a little.
Noah sat, as instructed, and while he was looking at me in theory, his eyes didn't meet mine at all. Instead, they hastily flicked between several places on my body, anything that wasn't my face.
“Aubrey, I realise that over the past few days my… my actions haven't been aligning with my words and, uh, you don't deserve to have me cause disarray in terms of your emotions-”
“Did you write that down and learn it by heart?” The way his stare awkwardly redirected to the floor only seemed to confirm my suspicions. “Fucking hell Noah, I don't need a fancy ass speech! I just want to know what the fuck is going on and I need you to stop being so fucking sweet to me when all you're willing to do is fuck me.”
I couldn't tell when I had gotten up but by the time I realised I was already pacing the floor. Noah got up, seemingly on his way to me, but stopped dead in his tracks.
“Fuck, dizzy,” he mumbled unhappily. Still, he reached out, stopping my movements with a single hand on my arm. “I'm sorry, Aubrey. I'll… I'll do better, I swear. I just can't stay away from you.”
“You don't need to stay away from me. I don't want you to,” I signed, grabbing onto his hips as he swayed a little. “You need to lie down, Noah.”
I had meant his own bed, in his own room, far away from me, leaving whichever bandmate he was rooming with that night to take care of him for the night. But I couldn't. I simply couldn't. Not with the way he was looking at me, allowing me to see so much hurt and confusion and need for something I couldn't quite comprehend yet. So I lead him to my own bed instead, once again helping him get undressed down to his underwear and tucked him under my blanket.
I wanted to be mad at him so badly and I knew he'd deserve it too. But my heart ached when I looked at him, so obviously struggling with his own feelings, wanting to do everything right and failing again and again. I didn't know if I would ever get what I wanted and needed from him. Lia's words echoed in my brain. But as much as it hurt, at least for the remainder of this tour, I knew I wouldn't manage to let go of him.
“Aubrey.”
My name tasted so sweet falling from his lips. Before I gave rationality a chance to take over, I lied down next to him, far enough away not to be touching, close enough to see every breath move his chest, every flutter of his eyelashes. His eyes were closing on their own accord. How long had he been drinking? The bottle wasn't all that empty but he could have started with something else. I wondered what had come first - the first sip or the overthinking. I was sure he had done plenty of the latter. How long he had sat somewhere drowning his sorrows or pleading the bottle for more courage?
“You deserve so much more than me,” Noah mumbled, pulling me out of my thoughts. I’d been sure he had fallen asleep already, but now, for a moment, his eyes were opening again, just enough to finally look at me, really look at me. His hand reached for mine, holding it so tenderly that I wanted to scream. That I didn’t care about what I deserved or what was good for me or whatever other bullshit he had to say, that I wanted him despite it all, because of it all.
I didn’t have to decide what to reply. Noah’s breathing had steadied, eyelids shut again, and from the slightest twitch his hand gave, I knew he had fallen asleep. Yet I felt more awake than ever, the sound of my beating heart the only thing filling the room.
•••
It was impossible to tell how much time had passed when I woke up, especially after having been so sure I wouldn’t find any rest at all that night. No light came in from behind the curtains, so I figured it was still night. Although with how gloomy this January was proving to be, that actually wasn’t much of a sign. The room next to mine, Oli’s room, was still silent as well. Hopefully he was getting some decent sleep. It wasn’t a secret that he struggled with that more often than not.
With the darkness and silence still enveloping the room, I questioned what had woken me up at all. The answer came rather quickly.
I had turned away from Noah in my sleep, but he had apparently disagreed with the distance it had cause between us because he had shuffled closer and wrapped an arm around me, keeping me safe and secure in his embrace. And then he moved, just the tiniest bit, and all I could possibly think about was the way I suddenly noticed his hard-on pressing against me.
My breath was refusing to escape my lungs. The sensation was so new, so intimate, so intense, despite everything we’d done before. When he moved again, a tiny noise leaving his mouth, I knew he was awake. Awake and trying so hard to keep himself in check. Which was the last thing I wanted. I could feel him twitch, could feel his slightly laboured breathing hitting the back of my neck, his strong chest molding against my back.
“Noah,” I whispered, grabbing his hand as it was pressed slightly against my belly. He stiffened immediately, as if caught out, and now it was him holding his breath.
But I wanted it. I wanted him. This simple situation had erased every ounce of resolution about potentially staying away from him. It was nothing short of impossible, all of a sudden. My body needed him in ways I’d rarely experienced, my mind spinning with the possibilities. There was nothing left in me that could refuse him.
“Are you still drunk?”
“I’m sober enough to know what I’m doing,” he answered, voice rough and low and sending tingles down my spine.
It was all I needed to hear. Pulling his hand higher, I put it over my breasts, allowing him to touch, allowing him to do what he pleased with me. Noah immediately responded by pushing his cock against my arse with force, now free of constraints, and I let out a pitiful moan. Both of us were only in our underwear, my shirt having ridden up to my waist in my sleep, and it still wasn’t anywhere near being close enough. He was growing harder with every movement, grinding against my body, kneading my breasts. I was burning with desire. I didn’t care about slow, or teasing, or romantic.
I led his hand down my body, pushing it between my legs so he could feel my growing arousal, the way I was starting to soak through my panties. It was almost embarrassing how quickly I got wet with him or Oli around, but I simply couldn’t help it. My body craved them with an intensity that had me ready to go in a heartbeat.
One of Noah’s legs slotted between mine to spread my thighs further as his fingers slipped under the waistband of my underwear. He wasted no time finding my clit, just for a moment, before moving lower, pushing a finger inside easily.
“Fucking hell, Aubrey, you’re killing me.”
I whined loudly, already needing more as I tried to grind down on his finger to get that bit more friction. With every movement, every noise I made, I could feel his cock push against me. I wasn’t the only impatient one.
“Please tell me you have a condom on you,” I groaned, still moving with him, but needing so much more.
Noah didn’t answer, but he took his hand away, making me gasp at the loss, and turned around to where I presumed he had dropped his jeans on the floor next to the bed. I sat up, just for a second, to remove my shirt. I wanted as much skin contact as humanly possible, craving to feel him everywhere on my body, and the fabric had been an unwelcomed barrier. In a quick move, I also slipped my panties down my legs and discarded them, hoping he’d follow suit.
Turning my head toward him, I watched as he indeed removed his underwear and put on a condom with a moan.
“I went for extra lube,” he chuckled, “but I don’t really think you need it.”
Then Noah was back on the bed, resuming the position we’d been in before and I almost cried when I felt his dick press against me, between my legs, no clothing left between us. He lifted my leg again, his cock moving up and down my pussy in teasing motions.
“Fuck, please, just…” A moan interruped me when his tip bumped against my clit.
“Just what, angel?
“Fuck me, Noah.”
It was all it took. With his arm wrapped around me once more to hold me steady, Noah pushed in, slowly, achingly slowly, and I felt like I was going to fall apart even before he was in all the way. It was simply so good, so perfect, as if he’d been meant to fuck me all along, that nothing else in the world seemed to matter anymore but his body against mine, moving inside of me.
His thrusts weren’t speeding up. I couldn’t tell if he was lost in the enjoyment of the feeling or if he had set out to tease me to the point of begging. I wasn’t above it. I would plead him any day, if that was what he wanted.
“Noah,” I whined, trying to grind down on him, but the position left me at a disadvantage while his arm held me in place. He was pressing hot kisses to the back of my neck now, finding all my sensitive spots, moving behind my ear and down to the top of my spine. “Please, I can take it, I promise.”
He didn’t get any quicker, but every time he pushed into me now, it seemed to be with a little more force. My hands didn’t know what to do or where to go. One kept grabbing at his own hand splayed on my lower stomach, the other kept fisting the sheets. His kisses turned into bites, teeth tormenting the skin on my neck and I hoped it would leave a mark.
When Noah spoke again, his mouth was right next to my ear, his breath impossibly warm. “Yeah? Think you can? Want me to fuck you hard and fast? So you’ll feel me tomorrow? Gonna think of me every time you move cause I ruined your gorgeous pussy.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chanted, my arousal climbing and climbing into the impossibly. “Fuck me, ruin me, anything you like.”
Suddenly, Noah pushed me on my front, still buried deep inside me as he grabbed my hips but kept me in a lying position, a hand pressed to my shoulder blades. And when he finally kept his word and made my wishes come true, it was beyond what I could have expected. He was relentlessly pounding into me, moving with a speed and strength I hadn’t experienced with him yet. I took it all, willingly and happily, letting him fuck me into the mattress until I felt utterly brainless.
The room, so utterly quiet just shortly before, was filled with the sounds of hit skin hitting mine, my moans rising higher and higher with every thrust, and his low groans as he chased his own high. My face was pressed into the pillows, but it still did little to muffle my voice.
I was so close to coming undone, his dick hitting all the right spots, his hand still pressing me down into the bed, it was like I could taste the end.
“Touch yourself, I want to feel you come,” Noah ordered. How was I ever going to refuse? I shuffled just enough to get my hand between my body and the mattress and as soon as I touched my clit, I knew it wasn’t going to take much. “Fucking gorgeous. Taking me so well, like you were made for me. You look so fucking good with my cock inside you.”
When I came, it took me with such force that I felt dizzy, a ringing in my ears briefly quietening everything around me, to the point where I had no idea how loud I was or if I was even still making noises at all. Noah followed in perfect alignment, shuddering thrusts as he came into the condom and I craved so much for the barrier to be gone, to feel it all, to have it inside of me. He was loud, louder than expected, then his movements faltered. When he pulled out, I made a single noise of complaint, even though I already felt sore.
I stayed on my front, Noah somewhere beside me, our breathing slowly settling down again. I felt cold and exhausted, the sweat on my skin turning uncomfortable. Then I felt his hands on me, all assertiveness gone, simply soft and careful movements to turn me on my side toward him. His lips met mine in an unhurried kiss, sweet and slow. I wanted to stay in this moment forever. And when he pulled away, keeping me in his embrace and looking at me with those brown doe eyes that I’d come to adore so much, I knew that there was no way back to me. I’d fallen for Noah Sebastian, hard and fast, and all I wanted was to make him mine.
81 notes · View notes
sluttyten · 2 years
Text
so I took like a 4 hour nap earlier so even though I have to be awake in 4.5 hours from now I’m like not even tired, but also I’m dreading going into work in the morning just because this week has been exhausting and we’re constantly short staffed even though we’ve been getting busier, and I just remembered that I have to help train someone knew tomorrow and I am simply just not feeling it 😭
#but also like the person I’m training is getting there around the time that I might normally go on break#and then the person that’s taking over my position so I can slide into a different one and so they’ll also be taking over training literally#gets there half an hour after the person I’m supposed to be training gets there?#so like that doesn’t make any sense at all#but that does mean I guess that I won’t really hardly have to train this person after all#and I feel like it’s not likely that this person is gonna stay#it seems like every time they hire someone for us to train in the mornings the person either quits or they just start getting schedules mids#or closing instead of opening which like …. we may be a bit clique-y in the mornings but that’s because it’s always the same 4 people and we#have been doing this together for 3 years now (at least 3 of us have been for 3 years the other one has been like a year and a half) but#like obviously it’s gonna be difficult for someone brand new to the company to come in and try to join in something like that right away#but also people don’t want to work mornings anyway especially not when that means getting to work at 5am#I should probably go to sleep rn honestly but i just keep rambling in the tags#I was just queuing some stuff too to post tomorrow and I started rambling in the tags there too#also 😫 I know I should sleep now but I just started getting hungry and I won’t have time to eat tomorrow until I get to go on break#and I’ve had a headache for like 12 hours now that my nap didn’t help so I’m probably about to start my period to make all of these things#even worse (which would explain the impatient attitude I’ve had the last few days as well as me taking a nap every single day this week so#far but I have also been working longer shifts and it’s just been busy and stressful)
3 notes · View notes
disownedbytiime · 1 year
Text
Someone left me a comment on jttou (to which I haven’t replied yet but I’ll try to do it tonight if I can use my computer) about something like a Christmas special and ngl that sounds great. Obviously not done by Christmas this year, but it gave me the idea that when I finish the whole thing, I may do a couple of extra chapters with some special events for them, and Christmas sounds like a cute thing for parents-children (and just having experienced having my nephew and niece spending their Christmas at my house gave me a better idea).
But I really have no idea how to do it exactly. I’m not sure if Christmas exists at all in the game. Yes, they have ‘holidays’ and winter vacations, but I’m not sure if the festivity actually exists. (And not even as a Christianity thing, just… like the gift giving and stuff). And if it exists, how do they celebrate? While it’s a Japanese game, it’s not really set in Japan (even though they do celebrate the new year similar to Japan), so I don’t think it should be celebrated like they do over there. And tbh there are a lot of things in the game that seem more western-like. (Like the school year.)
But ‘western countries’ is too broad and obviously the traditions are different in each place. How I celebrate where I live is very different from USA and Canada for example. Hell, it’s different from the south/center of Mexico where they don’t really do any Santa-related thing and it’s more about Jesus. I’m sure the countries in the Southern Hemisphere celebrate way different since it’s summer there. I guess it’s different in Europe but idk about that.
Now you’ll say: well, every country in the game is supposedly based on some real-life country (or several of them), but I didn’t set my story on any real place in the game haha. Ig it’s supposed to be on a ‘twisted w/onderland’ neutral, sort of place where everybody can move around between countries if they want? So idk.
0 notes
yeonzzzn · 1 month
Text
🔑secrets that you keep: psh / lhs
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: sunghoon x afab!reader x heeseung word count: 4.2k
Tumblr media
synopsis: dating sunghoon was like living on cloud nine, he treats you like a princess, spoils you, shows you off and gives every ounce of love to you…so why do you keep thinking about one of his best friends?
genre: love triangle, boyfriend's best friends, established relationship, friends to lovers to friends, jealous!heeseung, smut.
warnings: cheating, two sex scenes, unprotective sex, car sex, reader gets bent over the counter top, degrading, fingering, finger sucking, alcohol, Sunghoon and Heeseung are down bad for reader. MINORS DNI. lmk if i've missed anything ♡
Tumblr media
You made eye contact with him, watching the corners of his lips curl as he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes stare back into yours with so much care and want. 
You quickly glanced away from him, forcing your eyes to look down at your plate of nachos, fidgeting with the sleeves of your sweater. Praying no one else at this table noticed the small moment you just had with him. 
“Everything okay, baby?” your boyfriend asks you, his hand sitting on top of yours to stop your fidgets, “You’ve barely touched your food.” 
You quickly look over to him, wrapping your hands around his, giving a soft smile, “I’m okay, just a small headache is all.” 
Please don’t let him have noticed how his best friend and I just had a moment together. 
Sunghoon gave you a soft smile back, “We’ll get you some medicine once we are back at the house, okay?” 
You nodded, feeling Heeseung’s eyes still on you. 
Sunghoon leaned over, resting his arm on the back of your chair and placing a kiss on your forehead, “My sweet princess,” he whispered. 
It didn’t go unnoticed how Heeseung’s relaxed expression tensed quickly, forcing himself to look away from you and his best friend and off towards the other end of the table, listening to Jake and Niki fight about what video game everyone would play once back at the house. 
Jay rubbed his temples, snapping at them to quiet down, “We are literally in a public space can we not?!” 
The only downside to going out with your boyfriend and his six roommates/best friends is how loud they all can get. 
You tried to drown out the noise like usual, trying to distract your mind away from the chaos. 
Except, Heeseung wouldn’t let the chaos rest. 
He slouched in his seat, extending his legs out across the floor, setting them between yours. 
Your face felt hot, eyes widening, and trying to not react too much so that it was not noticed by anyone. But Heeseung noticed, obviously. 
“Are you sure you’re okay, YN?” Heeseung teased, but saying it in a way to not make it noticeable that he was teasing you, but you could tell. 
Sunghoon’s eyes quickly flickered between the two of you, Heeseung’s legs sitting between yours becoming all too obvious to Sunghoon. 
Before any more could be said, Jungwon was now the one yelling at Jake and Niki, deciding it was time to go back home. 
You felt more at ease once you sat in the passenger seat of your boyfriend’s car, leaning your head back with a sigh, your whole body relaxing. 
You noticed one by one, each of your friend's cars leaving the parking lot, Heeseung’s being the last in the line heading towards the direction of their shared home. 
“Are we not leaving?” You asked Sunghoon, turning to face him, seeing his lust-filled eyes. 
Sunghoon waited to get you alone all night. Tonight was supposed to be a date for the two of you, but ended up with Heeseung suggesting a group dinner, and since everyone was in favor, who was Sunghoon to turn his friends down?
Sunghoon reached his hand over to your thigh, squeezing the plush between his fingers, “I want you so bad, been thinking about it all day.” 
You wasted no time crawling over the center console, straddling him in the driver's seat, and attaching your lips to his in a fiery passion. 
Sunghoon reached a hand below the seat in unison with his tongue spreading your lips apart to invade your mouth, hand gripping the handle to push the seat backwards and lean it slightly back. 
Your hands cupped his face as his hands slid your skirt up your thighs, bunching it at your waist. 
Sunghoon couldn’t wait much longer, his dick twitching at the very thought of your cunt wrapped around him. 
His fingers slid your panties to the side, feeling your slick drip out of you. 
“Oh, fuck princess,” he moaned into your mouth, “so wet for me already my pretty?” 
You nodded, your hands working at unbuttoning his jeans, his hips rising to help you pull them down to his ankles. 
His fingers pumped into you in the same motion as your hand moved up and down his shaft, spreading his precum around his tip with your thumb. 
Sunghoon moaned against your lips, his cock pulsing in your hand, “Princess,” he whispered, “I can’t take it anymore, let me fuck you.” 
You slid onto him with such ease, rolling your hips as quickly as you could in the small space between the center console and the door. 
Sunghoon’s hands squeezed your ass tightly, his nails leaving marks on your skin. 
His head spun at seeing the way you rode his cock, sucking him so good with your cunt. 
It didn’t take either of you long to cum, making a mess all in his seat. But Sunghoon didn’t mind, it was a problem for another day to deal with and clean up later. 
When the two of you finally walked into the house, the screams of your friends echoed from up the stairs. Sunghoon held your hand tightly as you followed him to the second floor. 
Heeseung sat in the recliner chair in the corner of the upstairs living room, his eyes narrowed and chin wrapped between his fingers, the clear look that he’s pissed off. Eyes staring bullets into the TV of the Mario Party game. 
Sunghoon clocked it the minute he stepped foot into the living room, eyebrows raised, “What is his problem?” 
Jake, Niki, Jungwon, and Sunoo, sat on the edge of the couch, Nintendo Switch controllers in their hands slapping their fingers along the buttons for the mini-game. 
Jay sat in the bean bag directly across from Heeseung, his guitar sat in his lap as he played a soft tune, “I dunno,” Jay shrugged, “We all sat down and then thirty minutes later he stopped talking and was pissed off.” 
You peeked around Sunghoon, Heeseung’s eyes immediately darted to you, then your hand still intertwined with Sunghoon, then back up to you, eyes piercing your entire soul. 
You tugged at Sunghoon’s hand, motioning to sit on the couch. 
Sunghoon swatted at Jake’s leg, forcing him and the others to shift to their right, making room for you two. 
The minutes ticked by as you watched your friends continue their game, Sunghoon switching off with Jake every other turn. 
Sunghoon was in the middle of a challenge when your phone buzzed. 
heeseung: what took you so long to get back?
You rolled your eyes, quickly looking in Heeseung’s direction, seeing the same look you were giving him was looking right back at you. 
You were angry, and to keep yourself from going off, you excused yourself to grab a drink of water from downstairs. Sunghoon kissed your hand before you walked away. 
You were gone for five minutes and it was driving Heeseung crazy. 
He quickly stood up, causing his six friends to glance at him.
“Where are you going, grumpy pants?” Jay asked, tuning his guitar. 
“I need some alcohol.” which was true, Heeseung needed some of that liquid courage to get him through the night. Mostly if you plan to stay overnight with your boyfriend. 
You heard footsteps coming down the stairs, peaking your head around the counter, seeing Heeseung. You should have known. 
You rolled your eyes again, taking a sip of your water. 
Heeseung was at your side in seconds, snatching the glass from your hands and placing it to his lips. 
“Really Heeseung?!” 
He shrugged, swallowing all your water, setting the glass on the table then making eye contact with you. 
“Still not calling me Seungie?” he asked, his fingers tapping the glass. 
You shrugged back at him, turning away from him, resting your lower back against the counter, and crossing your arms. 
“YN, You think I’m dumb or something?” he said with a smirk. 
Huh?
You raise a brow at him, “Excuse me?” 
He chuckled, “Do you think I don’t know you fucked Sunghoon before coming back? Bet it was in his car too, wasn't it?” 
It was your turn to chuckle, “That’s none of your business.” 
“Oh, baby, yes it is,” he took a step closer to you, “It became my business that night you rode my dick into oblivion. Milking my cock with that sweet pussy of yours.” 
You looked away from him, thinning your lips into a line. 
You didn’t know things would end up this way. It was a drunken night. You, Sunghoon, Jay, Heeseung, and Jake all went to a party, had a little too much to drink, and had to call Jungwon to pick you guys up and bring you home. 
You stayed the night that night. Waking up at four am with a headache and terrible hangover. You shuffled carefully out of Sunghoon’s bed trying to not wake him and carefully tiptoed down the hallway to the bathroom. 
You were more out of it than you thought, taking to the wrong room expecting it to be Sunghoon’s. You couldn’t help it, you were still woozy and all their doors looked the same. It wasn’t your fault Heeseung’s room is next door to Sunghoon’s. 
You didn’t realize until you opened the door and slowly closed it that you walked into the wrong bedroom, but by that time it was too late. Heeseung already saw you. 
He was hunched over his bed with multiple empty water bottles lying around him. 
“What are you doing here?” he softly asked, his voice shaken from clearly being sick of the alcohol he consumed that night. 
You felt terrible for him, seeing him like that. So you did what any good friend would do, you took care of him. Got him a warm washcloth and more water. 
It was the first time you were that close to Heeseung, noticing every curve of his face. How pretty his eyes were, how sharp his jaw was, how…kissable his lips looked. 
Heeseung was obviously thinking the same as you, only he pushed that boundary and kissed you first. In shock at what he just had done, he apologized multiple times and begged you to not tell Sunghoon. You shrugged it off and blamed the alcohol. But as the next few weeks passed, you realized there was more to it than just blaming the alcohol. 
He looked at you differently. Talk to you differently. His body language was different when you were around. Everything changed. 
The sexual tension between the two of you built up over time. Heeseung proposed that you two hit it once, then never speak of it again. To get it out of your system. You weren’t sure about it and kept shoving him off until one night Sunghoon had to work late and your fingers weren’t doing it for you, not being able to wait until your boyfriend returned home. 
So you snuck next door. And did what Heeseung said, you rode his dick until he was moaning your name against your lips and cumming inside of you so hard and much that he was seeing stars. 
Heeseung was hooked after that. He couldn’t get enough of you. He didn’t want to stop. He wanted you all over him all the time. He wanted to hold you tight every night in his bed. Take you on cute as fuck dates and show you off. He wanted to love you.
But he couldn’t. You were cuffed to his best friend. 
Heeseung honored his proposal, hitting it once and quitting. But as time went on, he couldn’t stand it. 
He got up in the middle of the night and drove to your apartment, banging on your door until you woke up and let him inside, his lips immediately crashing against yours. 
You couldn’t lie to yourself, you’ve been thinking of him too. Spacing out during lectures thinking about his hands on you. 
You felt guilty. You were a taken woman. Sunghoon is so good to you. Treats you like a princess. Spoils you. Shows you off on every social media account he owns. Has even joked about getting your name tattooed on his wrist. Man was so in love with you, yet you did this to him. 
But you couldn’t stop. Heeseung became a secret that you kept. 
You’d call him almost every single night after Sunghoon would leave your apartment. 
You created a secret folder where you kept photos of the two of you together. 
You’d cry and break down about how unfair this all was to Sunghoon in front of Heeseung. 
Your heart is torn into two pieces and both of those men have a part of it. 
Heeseung hated what he was doing to his best friend, sure, but his heart was so attached to you. So attached to the point when you finally called everything off, Heeseung broke. 
He turned cold. Got so jealous so easily. Would do anything to try and get your attention. To tease you to show you what you were missing. 
Which leads you to stand in the kitchen with him beside you, angry to all hell. 
You just stared at him, “Are you trying to tell me I can’t have sex with my own boyfriend?” 
Heeseung hissed at that word, the word he so desperately wishes you’d call him. 
He just shook his head, looking away from you, “Come back to me.” 
“Heeseung,” you sighed, looking down at the floor, “You know we can’t.” 
“Are you saying you’re just okay giving this,” he said, pointing between the two of you, “Up?”
“Heeseung,”
“That you’re okay giving up my cock?” he growled, pushing his length against your thigh, “It’s been almost a month, baby, I can’t take it.” 
You tried to hold your ground, to do the right thing. And the only way you could think of was walking away. 
But you chose the wrong direction to do so. 
You turned away from him, going to walk around the counter and back up the stairs, but his grip on your waist pulled you back. His hips connected to your ass as he bent you over the counter, hand at the back of your neck. 
“Fuck you’re so sexy like this,” he whispered in your ear, “and the fact that you’re not fighting me tells me exactly what you want.” 
You didn’t deny it. You wanted him. You missed him. 
“Such a fucking slut,” he whispered, riding your skirt up around your waist, “Got dicked down by my best friend and fixing to take my cock too, so dirty.” 
You felt his fingers rub your clothed heat, and your juices coated his fingers, “Haven’t even touched you yet, and your soaked,” he groaned, “Fuck YN.” 
He moved your panties to the side, his thumbs spreading your folds, “Fuck you’re a sight to see.” 
“Seungie,” you whined, “Everyone's upstairs,” 
“Then you better keep your fucking mouth shut,” he quietly snapped, the sound of his belt coming undone filled the room. 
You bit your lips, your pussy clenching around nothing, making Heeseung lick his lips. God, he loves seeing you like this. Loved knowing you were so desperate for him like he was for you. 
Heeseung placed three fingers to his lips, moving his tongue across them and sliding them into your hole. 
You bit your lips harder, trying your best to conceal your moans. 
He pumped his fingers in and out of you slowly, letting you feel what you’ve been missing since calling whatever your relationship was with him off. 
“Seungie,” you whispered, hands gripping the other side of the counter, “Please.” 
“Fuck,” Heeseung always lost it when you begged for him like that. The way his nickname you’ve given him just rolls off your tongue. Drives him insane. He was putty in your hands and would bend to your every will. 
He played it off with his tough guy act, being so cold and dominant, which he did enjoy, yes. He loved seeing how you fold so fast at the way he handles you, but god he would submit to you so fast. All you had to do was give him commands, and he’d do it. 
Heeseung lifted your ass up higher, giving him perfect access to your pussy, lining his cock up nicely to your heat. 
You were about to beg him again but stopped the minute he pushed himself inside you, fucking into you at a desirable pace. 
You were so sure you drew blood from your lip at how hard you were clenching down on it to keep the moans from slipping out. Knuckles turning white from the grip you had on the counter. 
Heeseung was starting to lose himself in the pleasure. He hasn’t felt your cunt in almost a month. His hand only did so much for him, porn did nothing, and trying to hook up with someone else was out of the question. 
Heeseung hung his head low, watching how you took his cock in its entirety, releasing soft groans from his lips. 
You no longer could hold out. Your lip fell from your teeth, mouth slightly opened as the start of a loud moan escaped. 
Heeseung was quick to act, shoving his fingers into your mouth and pulling you up, his lips found your ear, “What did I fucking tell you?” he growled, “I said keep that whore mouth shut.” 
You moaned against his fingers, head spinning from how rough he was being with you. You loved it. 
There was just something about the way Heeseung fucked you that always had you coming back for more. 
Sunghoon fucked you so good as well, but he wasn’t rough like Heeseung. 
Sunghoon will get rough with you, but not to the same extent Heeseung would. Sunghoon was more gentle, focused more on your pleasure than his own, and always made sure you felt loved and safe during sex. Which you adored completely. But sometimes a girl needs to be thrown around and fucked senseless. 
Which is what Heeseung gave you. Heeseung made sure you felt good, yes. But he would always balance it out where you both are feeling good. Heeseung loves getting rough with you. Loves bending you over any object he could, and loves fucking you so aggressively. Pinning you to every surface. Pushing your face into the pillows, blankets, and couch cushions. It was so hot to him, mostly knowing it’s what you want. 
Both boys give you two different types of sex you crave. And maybe that’s why you fell in love with them both. They each bring something to the table for you, and not just in a sexual way. 
Heeseung’s head was starting to spin, losing himself even more. 
You sucked on his fingers, your tongue rubbing between them. 
“F-fuck,” he moaned, feeling like he was going to cum right now just from you sucking his digits. 
“Can’t believe you called it off with me,” he whispered, pumping into you faster to chase the climax he wants so badly, “Can’t believe you kiss him in front of me,” he was starting to sound angry, “Can’t fucking believe I’ve had to hear the way he pleasures you when you stay the night,” he pushes into you deep, holding himself there for a few seconds, then sliding out and fucking back into you, punctuating the next words with each thrust, “It. Drives. Me. Fucking. Insane.” 
You didn’t realize how close you were until that knot snapped, coating his cock of your cum. 
“Oh, fuck,” Heeseung whined, shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth, “Fuck baby, I’m fixing to cum, holy fuck.” 
Heeseung couldn’t hold out anymore, releasing his load inside you, a groan leaving his mouth. 
He took a few deep breaths before removing himself from you and quickly sliding your panties back into place and shoving your skirt back down. 
You turned around just in time to see Heeseung zip back up his jeans and clasp his belt, hands running through his hair, the sweat obvious on his skin. 
“You might want to wash your face off before going back upstairs,” you mumbled, taking your empty glass and refilling it with water. 
Heeseung leaned against the counter, smirking, “Fucked you so good after a month and that’s the thanks I get?” 
You glared at him, pointing your index finger at him, “This is the last fucking time Lee Heeseung, you got what you wanted so respect my wishes.” 
You turned away from him, making your way back towards the stairs.
“You’ll come back for more,” he teased, loving the way your body tensed up and whipped around to face him again. 
“You’re such a dick.” 
Heeseung wanted to fight back, to beg you to reconsider leaving him like this, but couldn’t. Not with the sounds of someone coming down the stairs. Not just anyone. Sunghoon. 
He reached the bottom of the steps, eyes looking back and forth between you and Heeseung, “Did you two get into a fight?” 
“Something like that,” you scoff, turning to face your boyfriend, standing on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek, Heeseung tensed. “I am going to shower then go to your room to watch a movie, my head still hurts. Is that okay?” 
Sunghoon smiled at you, “Of course, princess, I’ll join you if that’s fine? I’ll brush your hair.” 
You nodded, “I’d love that.” 
Sunghoon kissed your forehead, it not getting past him that you were sweaty, but said nothing, watching as you ran up the stairs. 
Heeseung opened the fridge, pulling out a beer he originally was supposed to come down here for. 
Sunghoon chuckled, “That was a long time being down here just to only now get a beer.” 
Heeseung just eyed his best friend, trying to play the most bullshit poker face, “Would have gotten it sooner, but your girlfriend yelled at me for being such a sour puss.” 
Sunghoon rolled his eyes, “Right, okay. Sure.” 
Heeseung clocked the attitude, “Is there a problem?” 
Sunghoon just laughed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “No. Just that if you’re going to fuck my girlfriend, at least make it not so stupidly obvious.” 
Heeseung sighed, closing his eyes tightly and dipping his head towards the floor, “Hoon, man I am so sorry.” 
Sunghoon walked closer to his friend, making sure the next words he spoke wouldn’t reach the ears of the others or even you, “Do you take me as some fool? You don’t think I didn’t know you guys were screwing each other behind my back for months? I’ve been dating YN for three years, and have known you my whole life, you really think I wouldn’t have caught on?”
Heeseung didn’t know what to say besides the truth, “It just happened, man. Neither of us wanted things to get this way.” 
Sunghoon heard enough and the last thing he wanted was to fight with his best friend, regardless of the betrayal. 
So without another word, Sunghoon turned around. 
“If it counts for anything, she called it off a while ago. I’m the one who kept pressuring and pushing her buttons.” Heeseung felt like shit. He knew everything would come to a head eventually or even if it didn’t, it would have been a secret he kept and took to his grave. 
“I know,” was all Sunghoon said, “Again, I am no idiot. I noticed a change.” 
Heeseung watched as his friend took a few more steps, “I am in love with her,” those words made Sunghoon turn back around, “I love her so bad man.” Heeseung clenched his hand on his shirt, “I can’t stop that feeling.” 
Sunghoon just nodded, “I know you do man,” he shook his head with a sigh, “I see it when you look at her. She…she loves you too.” 
Heeseung’s heart stopped, the grip on his shirt loosening, “What?” 
“She loves you,” Sunghoon repeated, “I know about the hidden folder of the photos you two have. I caught her looking at them, she was crying. It was the same night I believe she called it off with you.” 
Heeseung stayed quiet, not sure what was the right thing to even say. 
“Why did you never confront us?” Heeseung genuinely wanted to know. 
Sunghoon just shrugged, “Because she loves you, I guess. The last thing I wanted was to cause problems between our friend group or between her and me. That’s how much I love you both to put up with it. Yeah, eventually I knew I had to say something, but she cut ties with you before I could do anything.” 
Heeseung was still in disbelief that you loved him. Yet the love and loyalty for Sunghoon was stronger. But knowing you loved him was still enough. 
“She loves you deeply, Hoon,” he twisted the bottle cap off of the beer, “Enough to break my damn heart.” 
Sunghoon nodded, “I won’t tell her I know. And you won’t either, got it?” 
Heeseung nodded back, “Hoon, I am so sorry. I promise it’s done. It won’t happen anymore.” 
“Good,” Sunghoon turned back around and headed back up the stairs, “I’m insane when it comes to her. I don’t do well with sharing what’s mine.” 
Once Sunghoon was out of sight, Heeseung fell to the floor, tipping the bottle to his lips, “I don’t do well with sharing what should be mine either.” 
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
saetoru · 9 months
Text
✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。MAD — AL-HAITHAM.
contents. alcohols consumption (drunk! al-haitham), post argument, fluff, ft. kaveh a real one for dragging home a heavy ass muscle man
Tumblr media Tumblr media
al-haitham is good at holding his alcohol—at least, he is unless you’re in the middle of an argument. if you’re both arguing, then he seems much less likely to stay sober.
tonight for example—you open your bedroom door when kaveh (not so quietly) awakens you with his incessant knocking, grumbling under your breath as you reach for the door knob and twist. before you can even fully open the door, a very drunk and very heavy al-haitham is handed to you to hold steady.
“here, he’s your headache now,” kaveh huffs, crossing his arms, “i was supposed to be the heavy drinker of tonight,” he glares at al-haitham (who doesn’t help himself any further when he glares right back), “my day was far more stressful.”
“what draft are you on with this client?” you ask sympathetically.
kaveh flares his nostrils as he grumbles, “six!”
“maybe seven will be the charm,” you hum, chuckling, “i’ll get this headache of mine to bed.”
“please do,” he nods, “and i wish a terrible hangover on him in the morning too.”
with that, the door is shut, and you hear kaveh walk off and slam his as he grumbles some more about the drunk mess in your arms. at least you and kaveh have that much in common tonight—a shared irritation for the akademiya’s ever so charming scribe.
(truthfully, it’s hardly an accurate description at the moment—al-haitham’s charms are currently little to none after earlier.)
“you’re not doing yourself favors,” you turn your attention to you boyfriend, who stumbles a little as he buries his head into your neck. it’s a tad bit adorable—but then you remember the know-it-all attitude from earlier and decide you’re mad again. “disrupting my sleep for your lightweight habits isn’t a good way to apologize.”
“not a lightweight,” he slurs—and then he pulls away and pouts, “still mad?”
“yes.”
“are you sure?”
“very.”
“‘s not nice,” he huffs, burying his face back into your neck.
you can feel the way his lips are curled into a pout as they kiss your neck, and even though you’d like to say you have better self control, you can’t help but wrap your arms around him. it’s just to keep him from falling, you reason—just because you’re mad at him doesn’t mean you want him to potentially fall and break something, and that would only mean taking care of him more, which you do not need right now.
“you know what else wasn’t nice? telling me i’m wrong when i’m right,” you huff, “and then arguing that i’m wrong even though you know i’m right.”
“said i was sorry,” he almost whines—drunk al-haitham has at least a few perks. one of them is how much more affectionate he is, peppering kisses along your jaw until he finds your cheek. “you’re soft,” he hums, “love you.”
“you smell like beer. go to bed,” you grunt, trying (and failing) to pull away and guide him to the bed. you don’t make it two steps before he’s latched back to your body.
“say it back,” he gasps, “say it.”
“al-haitham,” you groan, “you can’t be serious—”
“haitham,” he corrects, “supposed to call me haitham.”
“would you like to sleep on the couch, haitham?” you ask with a dry smile on your face, eyes narrowed as he shakes his head. he tucks it into the crook of your neck, sighing happily as he inhales your scent.
“no, ‘s not good f’my back.”
“your back is the least of your concerns right now,” you mumble bitterly. “okay, let’s get you undressed.”
“you’re not mad?” he brightens up immediately at your words, taking them entirely out of context. his lips lean in to press against yours as his hands snake under your shirt, making you huff and slap his hands away as you turn your head and force his lips to meet your cheek.
“oh, i’m still very mad. don’t even think you’re getting anything tonight,” you scold.
for the nth time tonight, he pouts. and truthfully, you’re only human at the end of the day. if the akademiya’s usually stoic and composed scribe—who happens to be your equally as stoic and composed boyfriend—seems to pout this many times in one night….well, it would make anyone’s resolve crumble. even someone who’s angry after an argument—someone much like you.
“you’re a lot cuter when you’re drunk, you know that?” you giggle, poking his cheek lightly. he hums, nuzzling the tip of his nose against your skin as he leans more weight into you.
“aren’t i always cute?”
“not when you’re stubborn.”
“‘m cute,” he argues, “y’think ‘m cute, right?”
“no,” you grin, just to tease him. it’s a bit fun—pulling those wide eyes and curled lips from him, pulling that slightly crestfallen look that only a drunk al-haitham would let you witness.
it’s not too mean to let yourself indulge in this just once, is it?
“don’t be rude,” he slurs, “love you. say it back?”
“say please,” you tease, chuckling as your fingers thread through his hair.
he seems to brighten when you offer him a bit of affection, leaning into your touch as he sighs happily. “please,” he says politely, pressing a kiss to your skin before adding, “‘m sorry,” for good measure.
“how sorry?”
you plan on dragging this out for as long as you can—is it morally correct to take advantage of your drunk boyfriend? perhaps not….but no one is perfect, and you’re no exception.
“really sorry,” he mumbles, squeezing your hips.
“sorry enough to do the dishes for the week?”
“mhm,” he nods.
“kaveh’s too,” you add, with a satisfied grin on your face.
he nods, mumbling a quiet, “okay. kaveh’s too,” without question.
“how much do you love me?”
“a lot,” he says slowly, and by now, he’s leaning enough weight in you that you can tell he’ll fall asleep any moment. so you chuckle, pulling him along slowly before letting his body hit the mattress.
“this is my side of the bed,” you mutter with a roll of your eyes, but he doesn’t seem to hear you as he closes his eyes and sighs when your hand cups his cheek and rubs the warm, flushed skin. “do you love me more than you love being right?”
“mhm,” he hums, half awake as his eyes droop, “say it back now.”
“i love you too,” you finally crack, leaning in and kissing his lips briefly, “even if you’re rude and impossible.”
“‘m still cute,” he rebuttals, “right?”
“oh yes,” you giggle, “the cutest.”
“good,” he nods. and then his eyes close, and he’s snoring lightly, cheek still pressed against your hand.
you’re supposed to be mad, maybe even give him the silent treatment for a bit—but then you watch him sleep peacefully, the smallest of smiles pulling at his lips when your fingers thread through the sweaty locks of hair. regretfully, you can’t stay mad, not when it’s al-haitham—and especially not when it’s drunk al-haitham.
“you’re such a headache,” you mumble, kissing his forehead before joining him on the bed and tucking into his side.
and when he wakes up in the morning, with what is hopefully the awful hangover kaveh wished upon him, you’ll make sure to remind him of his agreement to do the dishes. kaveh’s too.
Tumblr media
if u try to tell me al-haitham isn’t a clingy and affectionate drunk, ur wrong. he’s so babie after he drinks
4K notes · View notes
breadbrobin · 3 months
Text
“doc”
luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians
Tumblr media
[child of apollo reader, should be gender neutral]
i tried to write a summary but it sucked so: reader is a child of apollo and luke is always hanging around the infirmary with a new injury. you hate it (do you really?)
(this got so out of hand but im so obsessed with luke castellan rn it’s not even funny. like. help.)
warning: like one or two swear words, mentions of injuries and illness, fluff i think
word count: 1.2k
____________________
you’d never been a fan of luke castellan. you knew it, he knew it—hell, everyone at camp knew it.
but a little unfriendliness never stopped him.
children of apollo were meant to be warm and kind all the time, but you’d rather die before being happy-go-lucky all the time like your siblings. you’d rather do your job: healing the campers who injured themselves throughout the days at camp. you’d also rather those campers not include luke castellan for once, but not all wishes can come true.
scarcely a day could pass by without luke coming into the infirmary, or coming up to you elsewhere in camp if you weren’t there, with a minor injury that he insisted needed healing immediately.
“i just don’t think i can continue kayaking with a sprained ankle, y/n.”
“what if it was your knees you skinned? wouldn’t you want to get them healed so you could get back to arts and crafts?”
“if my cut finger isn’t healed as soon as possible i’ll have to sit capture the flag out tomorrow! yes, i know it’s a paper cut. that’s not the point!”
he really was ridiculous.
either way, you had to heal him, technically. at your heart, you were a good person. on the surface, you wanted to punch him. give him something to really cry about.
“y/n, your boyfriend’s here again.” one of your sisters, cassidy, called out to you as you checked the stock of bandaids.
you rolled your eyes, not even bothering to correct her. “what this time?”
“i just have the worst headache, doc. it’s killing me.” luke said dramatically, holding his forehead. the small grin on his face didn’t support his statement at all.
you turned around, eyes wide and face serious, but trying not to smirk. “oh no, you might have meningitis! if it’s the worst headache of your life, we should get to you a hospital so they can do a spinal tap and run some tests.”
the grin on his face faltered as you pulled him to a seat. “uh—“
“lie down. don’t move. i’m going to get chiron.”
he gripped your arm. “no, wait, i think—“
“you’ll be fine?” you turned around with raised brows. “yeah, thought so. drink some water, castellan.”
“but—“
“what? you won’t be able to do sword fighting practise with a headache? big deal.”
“y/n—“
“you need to stop coming in here every time you get bored. we’re not an entertainment space.”
“but, i really do have a headache. like. a migraine.”
you stopped and turned back around, dropping the bandages you had been organising. “oh. shit, i’m sorry. hold on.”
cursing yourself internally, you rushed off to get nectar to hopefully help, along with some painkillers and a bottle of chilled water. when you came back, luke was lying on the bed, eyes closed.
“you okay, soldier?” you patted his shoulder gently.
he cracked one eye open and nodded. “kind of.”
you gently pulled him to sit up. “come on. gotta get some meds in you. eat any food today? drink enough water?”
he shook his head as he sipped the nectar, his eyes squinted. “got busy.”
you shot him a disapproving look and he smiled guiltily. “you need to eat or you’ll die. do you want to die?”
he looked up at you with furrowed brows. “you don’t have a very good bedside manner, you know?”
“then why do you keep coming back here?” you went back to organising bandages, busying your hands.
“i like my doctors prettier than they are kind, honestly.”
you froze your movements and looked over at him. luke was smiling slightly. your cheeks weren’t turning red, you told yourself. they weren’t allowed to. “whatever,” you finally said. “take your meds, drink all of that water—sip it, don’t chug—then get some sleep, alright?”
he nodded, taking a sip of the water. “yes, doc. got it.”
you nodded at him firmly and walked off once he’d taken the painkillers, hoping he couldn’t see right through you.
luke hadn’t been to the infirmary in a week, and you were genuinely starting to get concerned.
every free moment you got, you were staring at the door, or out the window, waiting for him to come in with some stupid injury and even more stupid excuse. but he didn’t.
after watching you pace for the seventh time in one morning, cassidy groaned. “just go find him.”
“i’m sure he’s fine.” you said, wringing your hands. “i mean, he’s probably just busy.”
“just go. you’re stressing me out. i can’t get anything done with you filling the room with your nervous energy. go find your boyfriend.”
“luke’s not my boyfriend.”
“i never said who it was.”
“well, it was pretty obvious—“
“just go!” she threw a bandage at your head, effectively forcing you out the door.
you didn’t even know where he was.
camp was huge, so it took you around twenty minutes to find him, he sun glaring into your eyes and likely burning your cheeks. regardless, you were on a mission. finally, you spotted him in the arena. of course.
you watched for a while until he noticed you, standing in the shade with your eyes squinted in the sun and your arms crossed over your chest. he grinned and jogged over.
“hey, doc. what brings you here?” he asked, sheathing his sword.
your eyes followed the precise movement. “why haven’t you been to the infirmary?”
he shrugged. “i haven’t been injured.”
“didn’t stop you before.”
there was a silence.
then he smiled again. “did you miss me?”
your cheeks burned. “no!” you cleared your through awkwardly. “i just… i get… bored. and you… keep the monotony away.”
“you missed me.”
“i did not miss you.”
he leaned closer, rocking back and forth on his feet. “you missed me.”
you glared up at him, but couldn’t fight the tiny smile that forced itself on your lips. you shook your head, pressing your lips together tightly. “nope. didn’t miss you.”
“well,” he shrugged. “guess i don’t need to tell you that i did actually just hurt my hand while training, huh?”
you frowned. “are you aware that consuming as much nectar and ambrosia as you seem to want to will cause you to burn to a crisp?”
“i don’t need godly food if i have you as my doctor.” he smiled cheekily, clenching his fist then wincing. “seriously, though. it hurts.”
“aw, poor baby.” you pouted, leaning forward and placing your hand on his and trying to feel if there was any injury present.
before you could do anything, his fingers had interlocked with yours and he was stepping closer to you.
you looked up at him, heart pounding and cheeks burning. “what are you—“
“i don’t know what we can do for a date around here, but i’d love to take you on one, doc.” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
you froze, heart fluttering. butterflies danced in your stomach. you found yourself nodding before you could stop yourself, smiling. “okay. yeah. take me on a date, soldier.”
“yeah?” he smiled, squeezing your hand. “great! i’ve been trying to work up the guts to ask you for weeks now. also, can i kiss you?”
“i’ve been trying to pretend i didn’t want you to ask me for weeks.” you said, stepping slightly closer to him. “also… yes.”
his free hand cupped your cheek and his lips pressed to yours, soft and sweet.
you wondered why you ever said you didn’t like him.
2K notes · View notes
Text
Wreck My Plans - LN
Summary: After nearly a year of making long distance work, Lando has lost his patience and abruptly demands that y/n move in with him. Because he can't keep living most of the time without her.
Tumblr media
Admittedly getting frustrated with someone like Lando Norris is easy.
It’s almost as if he really genuinely thinks nothing of his demands for y/n to fly off with him for a race weekend or have him just drop in out of nowhere when he decides he’s feeling lonely at night after insisting he wouldn’t be able to come over.
It’s not as if she doesn’t want him there. 
But communication with him is a headache on the best of days.
“You can come!” Lando insists while following her out of the bedroom into her living room.
“Lando, I’m trying to make a life for myself. My boss has warned me, one more calling in sick for a weekend then being spotted on broadcast or another last minute holiday booking that interrupts other peoples schedule then I’m fired and I can’t lose my job.” Y/n frowns turning abruptly to look at him. “Flying to Monaco to spend a week with you is not on the cards.”
“Quit your job.” Lando demands and for a moment he almost wants to eat the words he just spoke because her expression of rage is not something he is enjoying being the victim of. It’s silent rage too which he knows says much more than if she was yelling at him, and yet he doesn’t shut up. Instead he continues speaking. “Quit your job. Move to Monaco and live with me. I’ll take care of you.”
“Lando…you’re being ridiculous.” Y/n laughs in disbelief of the fact they’re even having this conversation.
They’re both so young and while they’ve miraculously managed to keep a relationship going for 10 months while she lives in a guest house at her parents house. It’s still so early for her to be thinking about moving countries to live with him.
“No. You’re just being stubbornly independent. It’s annoying.” Lando states as if his words are fact, and annoyingly he’s not entirely wrong. But it doesn’t mean he gets to say it out loud with so much confidence.  “What’s stopping you? Your job isn’t even your dream job, and what’s better than living with me? I’ll take care of you, we’ll get to travel, have every morning together and you’ll be a full-time girlfriend who doesn’t have to worry about a thing because we’ll not have to worry about the one threat to this relationship.” Aka living in different countries and sometimes going weeks not seeing each other in person. 
At one point she was seeing the Quadrant team more than she was seeing Lando and he was seriously unimpressed about it.
“I-What about my family?”
“I see my family all the time and you can do exactly what you’ve been doing with me. Plus I think your dad is more than ready to pass over the responsibility of you onto someone else. We’ve had a chat and he agrees it’s time for you to accept that you have to just live with me and let me take care of you.”
“Sounds like something he’d say.” Y/n mumbles in defeat since she knows her dad constantly makes jokes about how she’s his most expensive child and it’s a good thing she managed to end up with someone who has a job with such a high income because they’d need it to meet her needs(wants). “If-and I mean if-I agree to move in. Is that really it? My plans to lead my own life are wrecked.”
“You will be leading your own life, you’ll just be doing it by my side with no concern for travel budget and you’ll get to have amazing sex more regularly.” Lando grins holding nothing back with his other intentions for as to why he wants her to life with him. It’s definitely not something that is putting her off, even if he is still annoying her with his nonchalant attitude about it. 
“Amazing sex?” She scoffs, knowing he’s right but feeling like she needs to humble him somewhat right now.
“If you need me to prove that we have amazing sex then I’m happy to deliver.” 
“Stop trying to distract me.”
“Stop trying to deny that we’re made to have a life together. When we met you told me that you wanted a man who would let you give up and live on their sofa.”
“I said that as a joke after a bad day at work and you know it.”
“So you don’t want that at all?”
“I-“
“I won’t force you, y/n.”
“Just give me some time to think about it.” Y/n mumbles before she groans. “No. I don’t need to think about it.”
“Ok.” Lando nods thinking that she’s just decided that it’s not happening.
“I’d love to move in with you…idiot. But next time you want to suggest something life changing, maybe give me more warning…and I still have to give in my two week notice.” Y/n states while he nods quickly really just excited that this is actually happening.
-
By the start of the next month, Lando had new enemies of y/n’s family as they weren’t thrilled that she’s moving out the country but she was too excited about it to care and assured him that they would get over it eventually.
Lando sighs waking up to see her sleeping soundly, her face nuzzled into the pillow while he admires her and sighs just smiling over the fact he got her. 
So far she’s been there a few days and he’s already spoiled her by buying her anything she gives a second glance. 
“I know you’re awake.” He whispers watching her mouth twitch into a smile. “You can sleep on the plane.”
“But I’m so tired now.”
Attending a race weekend so shortly after moving in isn’t ideal, but he wants her there and she wants to be there but right now she is exhausted.
Eventually she’s up and they’re out travelling to the next race. 
Now their relationship has never been hidden but it has been the most questioned due to the fact they are seen together so little. At one point she was with Max so much more accusations of cheating were being thrown into the ring but Lando put those to rest quickly.
Before y/n knows it they’re in the paddock and Lando seems to be making extra effort to show off his new roommate.
Of course when he gets up on stage as part of the media for the race week, the first question is about his relationship.
“You made it public knowledge that you and y/n moved in together. How is that going?”
“Oh she hates me so much already. Apparently I suck.” Lando nods jokingly before shrugging. “No, it’s going really well. But she moved in like 3 days ago and we’re already travelling. Everyone should expect to see her glued to my side whenever I’m not doing this stuff.”
“Yeah, she hates him.” Oscar adds with a small sarcastic smile. 
“You know she does. I bother her all the time and she hates it.” Lando admits with a proud grin. “But she is going to be around a lot more now and…everyone can expect to see me doing everything and anything to irritate her.”
2K notes · View notes
moonstruckme · 3 months
Note
Can I request whimsical!reader and Sirius Black?? Or maybe poly!marauders but I just feel like Sirius would be so whipped for his quirky girl and join in on whatever shenanigans she starts 🫶
Sooo right babe, thanks for requesting :)
poly!marauders x whimsical!reader ♡ 878 words
“Darling,” Sirius keeps his voice quiet as he slinks down into the armchair. “What are you doing?” 
You look up from where you’re knelt beside the couch, bent ominously over James’ sleeping form. He’s out cold, his glasses discarded and placed carefully on the coffee table by Remus. James is a hard sleeper on a good day, but when he’s sick even the apocalypse couldn’t wake him. His breath wheezes noisily in and out through clogged nostrils. 
“I’m cleansing him,” you whisper. 
“With rocks.” 
You send your boyfriend a smile, well used to his ragging. “With crystals,” you correct him softly, placing another on James’ sternum. 
Sirius sits forward curiously. “What do they do?” he asks.
“Different things.” 
When you don’t seem inclined to go on, he reaches forward to poke at your shoulder. You sway placidly like a ship on calm waters. “Like?” he prompts. 
You hum, taking a smooth, green rock from your pouch. “Well,” you say, “this one is jade. It helps with headaches.” You place it gingerly on James’ forehead. 
“I see.” Sirius nods thoughtfully. “And what’s that blue one?” 
“It’s to help support his immune system.” 
“Uh huh. So you’re trying to heal him, is that it?” 
You consider this for a moment. “Sort of,” you say. “More like help his body heal itself.” 
Sirius grins at your breezy kindheartedness and slides down onto his knees beside you. “That’s sweet, baby.” He kisses your cheek, delighting when it dimples. “Can I help?” 
“Sure,” you say, looking pleased, “if you want to.” 
You move your little pouch so it sits between the two of you. Sirius brushes a piece of hair behind his ear, considering the stones inside. He picks up a cool-looking black and red one. 
“What’s this?” 
You glance over from where you’re setting another crystal on James’ chest. “Garnet,” you tell him. 
“And what’s it help with?” 
“Calcium deficiency.” 
Sirius guffaws. He covers his mouth with his hand when Remus pokes his head out of the kitchen, looking suspicious. 
“You think our boy’s fallen ill because he’s low in calcium?” he whispers. 
You shrug, scrunching your nose in that silly way you do when you don’t get why he’s laughing. “I guess I thought it couldn’t hurt.” 
“What are you two doing?” Remus asks, coming over with his arms crossed to lean against the wall. His voice is cautiously quiet. 
Sirius leaves you in charge of fielding questions while he dedicates himself to carefully balancing the garnet crystal on the point of James’ nose. His knuckles brush his boyfriend’s overwarm cheek as he retracts his hand, grinning at his work. He wonders if he can get one in his mouth without waking him. 
“We’re using crystals to help Jamie get better,” you explain, voice light as thistledown. “Siri, love, you can’t put it there. It’ll fall.” 
To his disappointment, you take the stone from James’ nose and place it between his collarbones. When Sirius pouts, you dig in the pouch to hand him another. 
“Here, try again.” 
“No.” Remus recognizes the glint in Sirius’ eyes and steps forward to snatch the stone from him. “Don’t enable him, sweetheart,” he tells you. “He’s just playing around.” 
You seem unconcerned, leaving Remus to deal with Sirius as he sees fit while you continue your healing rituals. 
“Excuse me for trying to help our sick boyfriend,” Sirius protests. 
“She’s trying to help,” Remus says sternly. “You’re just going to wake him.” 
“He could sleep through a tornado.” 
“He’s ill, Pads. Leave him be.” 
“Sorry, Jamie,” your voice comes, soft and sympathetic. Remus and Sirius both turn. “How are you feeling?” 
“Wha…” James clears his throat, then sniffles thickly. “What’s on me?” 
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you say. Your hand comes up to stroke at the damp curls lying across his forehead. “Do you feel calcium sufficient?” 
“What?” 
“The answer is yes,” Sirius helps him out. “Yes, you do feel calcium sufficient.” 
“I suppose so.” Crystals fall from James’ face as he sits up on his elbows, rubbing at his cheek. 
“I’m sorry we woke you,” Remus murmurs, crouching by James face and beginning to take crystals off his chest. You look slightly put out, but you don’t protest. Sirius kisses the side of your head consolingly. “How are you feeling, love?” 
“Properly stuffed up.” He inhales sharply through his nose, and Sirius feels his mouth twist at the ugly snuffling sound. “A bit better than when I fell asleep, though.” 
Remus and Sirius both look at you. Your smile spreads like a slow sunrise, the tops of your cheeks turning a pleased pink. Sirius’ heart does an embarrassing little dance. He takes your hand, stamping a kiss on the back of your palm. 
“Do you feel like some tea?” Remus asks James, his own lips curved slightly. 
“That sounds fantastic,” James admits. 
Remus smiles over at you. “Want to help me make it?” 
You hop up eagerly. “I can go get some thyme from the garden,” you say, headed for the back door. “It’s good for respiratory issues.” 
James makes a face and Remus takes you by the shoulders, gently redirecting you towards the kitchen. “Maybe just a regular tea for now, sweetheart,” he says. “But we can definitely try that later.”
966 notes · View notes
babyleostuff · 1 month
Text
PHOTOGRAPH | JEON WONWOO
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
based on "photograph" by Ed Sheeran
SYNOPSIS | Wonwoo knew dating as an idol would be almost impossible, yet he was ready to take the risk. Unfortunately, you were the definition of "right person, wrong time". PAIRING | idol!wonwoo x fem!reader GENRE | angst WORD COUNT| 2.8k
natalia's note | this is wonwoo's pov from this fic, though it can be read as a stand alone
Tumblr media
Wonwoo never cared about relationships - he thought goodmorning texts were overrated, planning dates seemed too tiresome, and he didn’t see the appeal of letting someone else wear his hoodies and sweaters. Besides, he was too busy with work and it was hard to focus on anything else than the neverending schedules. He couldn’t remember the last time he got more than five hours of sleep. 
At least that’s what he kept telling himself.
Dating in the industry was hell on earth, he knew that. Wonwoo had witnessed careers end and lifes get destroyed just because people fell in love. So, he made a promise to himself that that would never happen to him - he wouldn’t allow himself to fall for anyone, and spare himself the trouble of a broken heart and a ruined career. He didn’t care that he had no one to cuddle at night, no one to hug, no one to kiss, no one to call during tour. 
And then you came, and changed his entire world. You became his everything, his little ray of sunshine - you were the first person he looked for in the crowd during their concerts, the first person he ran to on the backstage, the first person he called after they won an award. For the first time in his life he felt complete. 
“I’m sorry. It wouldn’t have worked out either way.”
He didn't even want to imagine the look on your face when he said it. Through the fucking phone. 
Wonwoo was on the verge of throwing up, but he knew that if he didn’t end it now, he’d never do it. He spent the last week crying before falling asleep from exhaustion in the night, and quickly wiping the tears that rolled down his cheeks during the day - he knew what he had to do, or both of your lives would get destroyed, and that’s something he’d never be able to live with. 
“Wonwoo, can I talk to you?” He didn’t know what to expect when their manager approached him in the middle of their rehearsal, but he definitely didn’t expect to hear that he had to break up with you, or his work and your safety would be on the line.
Wonwoo pulled the phone back from his ear, and with a shaky finger pressed the red button. 
That would be the last time he’d ever talk to you. 
We keep this love in a photograph We made these memories for ourselves Where our eyes are never closing Hearts are never broken And time's forever frozen still
Wonwoo didn’t bother with picking up his suitcase from the trunk, he knew Mingyu would pick it up for him. It generally seemed that he couldn’t be bothered with anything other than drinking himself into oblivion and crying until he passed out from exhaustion ever since he broke up with you. All of that just so he'd try to erase every possible memory he had of you together. 
With heavy shoulders, and a headache, Wonwoo shut the door to his room behind him, enveloping himself in the darkness. Usually, you’d already be there, dressed in one of his hoodies, lying on his side of the bed because you fell asleep while waiting for him. He’d tuck you in, making sure you were warm and comfortable, before he’d take a quick shower and unpack some of his stuff, so he wouldn’t have to worry about it in the morning. 
The absence of you in his bed didn't hurt as much as what he saw on his bookshelves and desk, though - countless photos of you from trips, nights spent together in your apartment, photos from parties with the guys and their girlfriends, and pictures he took especially with you in mind. 
His favourite one had to be the one from Japan, when you and the rest of the seventeen girlfriends flew out to Tokyo and surprised them after they won the daesang. You were all huddled on the floor of the hotel room, trying to fit in the picture, as all of you had your arms wrapped around each other, smiles on your faces. Wonwoo could practically hear your laughter, as DK almost knocked the table down, because Seungkwan pushed him to be sure he’d be in the frame. 
“Move your ass, I want to be in the picture!” Seungwan yelled, digging his elbow into Seokmin's stomach. 
“You are, you idiot. Can’t you see that half of your face is in the frame? Stop hitting me!” DK yelled back, pushing Seungwan in return. 
Neither of you knew what was ahead of you at the time, and Wonwoo couldn’t stand the look of love in your eyes, he couldn’t stand the way he was shamelessly staring at you with nothing but adoration, like none of the other twenty people in the picture existed. 
“Fuck!” Wonwoo yelled, slamming the photo against the floor, breaking the glass. 
“Wonwoo, are you okay?” Mingyu knocked on his door a second later, making him wonder how long his friend had been standing there. “Just leave me alone,” Wonwoo said, his voice breaking, as the first tears started falling. He was surprised he was still able to cry, considering how much he was doing that for the past few days. 
“Leave me… alone.” 
So you can keep me Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans Holding me closer 'til our eyes meet You won't ever be alone
“I miss you.” 
Wonwoo couldn’t see your face, but he knew you were pouting. He giggled to himself, and nuzzled his face further into the pillow like a lovesick teenager, smashing his glasses against his face in the process.
“I miss you too, baby,” he said, picking up his phone from the bed, as if it would make him feel any closer to you. “But I’ll be home in a week.” A week too long. 
He could hear you sigh angrily, as you started your usual rant about why overseas schedules shouldn’t be longer than five days, giving him a recap of the list you have written down in your notes app. “You can laugh as much as you want, Jeon Wonwoo, but I’m suffering here.” 
There was nothing else for him but to laugh at your sulking tone, he loved how you didn’t have any limits when it came to him and dissing his schedules. “Do you have the book I gave you before I left?” Wonwoo asked, and immediately heard some shuffling, as if you were getting up from the bed. 
“Of course, but I’m not in the mood for reading,” you sighed. To be honest, you were rarely in the mood for reading - you preferred being read to. Specifically by Wonwoo. Definitely not because you were addicted to his deep and velvety voice, at least that's what you were telling him. 
Wonwoo knew better. 
“Go get it and open it,” Wonwoo said with a soft smile on his lips, laughing when he heard your annoyed groan.
He waited patiently for you to find the book and discover a photo booth picture you thought you had lost a while ago. You took it on one of your first dates, and Wonwoo knew how much you loved that photo, so he was over the moon when he found it laying under the bookshelf when he was cleaning your room. 
“How? What? Wonwoo?” you gasped, and he couldn’t help but laugh at your surprised reaction. 
“I found it some time ago, but forgot to tell you.”
He heard you sigh quietly, and from what he could judge it wasn’t a happy sigh. “Now I feel even more alone.” 
“Baby,” Wonwoo murmured, his tone matching your sad one. “We only have a week left, you won’t even notice when I’ll be back.” 
“You promise?” 
“I promise.” 
And if you hurt me That's okay, baby, only words bleed Inside these pages, you just hold me And I won't ever let you go
“You said you’d be home!” 
This wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go, not at all. You had been planning this date for a while now - it wasn’t anything big, just a homemade dinner and a movie, but any moment spent together was special for you, so it didn’t really matter what you did. And what could be better than to prepare a nice meal together and then eat it cuddled under fluffy blankets, while watching a bad movie you could both make fun of. 
If only Wonwoo’s practice didn’t run late. 
“I’m sorry, but I told you my phone ran out of battery," he said, pointing at his dead phone helplessly. “And we really were busy, baby. You know how the comeback season is,” he sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. 
“I know, but if you really cared about me you’d make sure to at least text me. I was waiting for four hours Wonwoo, it’s literally 1 am!” You said, your tone getting angrier and angrier. 
Wonwoo understood why you were angry, he wasn't surprised, but he thought that maybe you would be a little more understanding. On the other hand, he knew how much you were looking forward to this date, he was waiting for it himself, and the fact that he didn't even text you certainly didn't make the situation better. 
“Sweetheart, please,” he tried reaching for your hand, but the second his fingers touched yours you pulled away. 
“You're a bad boyfriend Wonwoo, you ditched me like I was nothing.” 
Your voice was full of venom and Wonwoo couldn't help the slight pain he felt in his chest. Your words when you were angry always hurt him like hell, but he didn't expect to hear something like that. He knew you didn't mean it, of course you didn't - you were angry, tired, hungry, and Wonwoo knew it was pointless to blame you for your words. He loved you too much to do it. 
But before he could say anything, he felt your arms around his neck. 
“I’m so sorry, Wonwoo. I didn’t mean it, I’m so stupid,” you mumbled into his neck. “I love you, I’m sorry,” you kept repeating. 
“Hey, it’s okay,” he ran his hand over your arm, cradling the back of your head with the other. “We both messed up a bit, but it’s okay, baby.” 
“I'm just afraid that one day I'll say something stupid enough to make you leave me,” you whispered, as if you were afraid that if you said it a little louder, your words would become true.
"Just hold me, baby, and I promise I'll never let you go."
Now Wonwoo would give anything to hear even the worst insults about him from you. He tilted the glass to his mouth, which turned out to be empty - just like the whiskey bottle he had taken from Mingyu, not that the younger minded. Or maybe he did, but Wonwoo didn't care much. He snorted and put the empty glass on the night table, from which he took a photo framed in a black frame instead.
Your faces were covered with a white face masks and your heads were adorned with pink cat headbands, and even though you were definitely too close to the camera, to the point where the photo was blurry and unclear, Wonwoo could still see your wide smile perfectly. 
It was from the date Wonwoo surprised you with a few days after your failed one. It was one of the best nights of his life.
Oh, you can fit me Inside the necklace you got when you were sixteen Next to your heartbeat where I should be Keep it deep within your soul
“You know my ex boyfriend got me this, right?” You raised an eyebrow at him, looking at him sceptically.
“Baby, you were sixteen then,” Wonwoo flicked your nose. "I will not be jealous of your great love at the age of sixteen."
You muttered something under your breath, frowning at him adorably. “If you want, I can buy you a new one,” he said, pointing to your necklace.
“No,” you muttered, not looking at him. Cute. "I like it."
"Exactly, so stop whining and let me put the picture in," he couldn't help but smile as he looked at the photo of himself in your necklace, resting right above your heart.
“You picked out the worst picture of me there is, I hate you,” you groaned, hitting your head against his chest.
“Well, I love it, and that’s what matters. Now,” Wonwoo grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles. "I’ll always be with you."
When I'm away, I will remember how you kissed me Under the lamppost back on Sixth street Hearing you whisper through the phone "Wait for me to come home"
Wonwoo looked around his bedroom with droopy eyes (was it from crying, alcohol or tiredness he didn't know), which less than three weeks ago was full of life - full of you. 
The knowledge that he would never see you again weighed on him like a stone on his heart, but even so - Wonwoo didn’t want to forget you, no matter how much it hurt. He wasn't even sure he could even if he wanted to, you were present in every corner of this room - your pillow still smelled of your perfume, there were your skincare products on his desk, which you never kept in the bathroom for some reason, and your sweater was still lying on the back of the chair in the corner because you were too lazy to put it in the wardrobe. 
Wonwoo grabbed his phone with a trembling hand, its screen lighting up and displaying a wallpaper with a photo of you that he took right before he left for the tour. You were in bed, your hair messy and dishevelled, your eyes still closed and your lips in a sweet pout - you didn't even know he took the photo, but Wonwoo couldn't help himself. 
"Won, you said you'd wake me up," you mumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow and duvet that covered almost your entire head.
“But you're not sleeping,” he said quietly with a smile, brushing strands of hair from your face.
You murmured something, pulling the covers over your head. Wonwoo couldn't help but laugh at your silly antics - he loved how clingy you got whenever he had to leave early in the mornings, you were like a cuddly teddy bear that wanted all the hugs in the world. “You know what I mean. I wanted to help you get ready to leave,” you complained from under the covers.
"I love you, baby, and I love it when you help me, but right now I'd much rather have you get some sleep."
“But I'm going to miss you,” you groaned, poking your head out from under the covers.
“It's only a week and a half,” he said and kissed your forehead gently.
Unconsciously, Wonwoo raised his fingers to his lips. Was that really your last kiss?
"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, running a hand over his face. There was one more thing he had left of you - your voicemails. With a shaky finger he pressed on the last voicemail you sent him, a day before he broke up with you. The second he heard your voice it was like he magically sobered up - his mind was clear as day, and it immediately took him back in time to when the only thing he looked forward to was coming home to you. 
"Hi baby, I know you’re sleeping already, but I just wanted to record a little message, so you have something nice to wake up to. These first few days apart are so hard, I really miss you, especially at night. I got so used to our little bedtime routine that the house feels so quiet and empty without you, like something is missing, you know? You’re going to call me a hypocrite, but you know what else I’m missing right now? The light from your computer when you game late at night and I can’t sleep because of it. Or how I have to beg for you to come to bed for at least two hours, before you finally do. (laugh). I really do miss your bed hair, though. Now with them being so long too, you look so cute. (laugh)."
"But you know, last night, and don’t make fun of me, but I had to put on your hoodie to sleep because I missed your smell, I thought about the first time you left for tour since we got together. I remember how you walked me home after our date because it was late, and you were so adorably awkward. You still are. Anyways, we stood under that lamppost right by my house, and we were talking for a bit, and I remember how sad I was that you had to leave. I know you were too but didn’t want to show it, my strong baby. And then you kissed me. (pause) I will always remember how you kissed me under that lamppost. And how you said “wait for me to come home”. "
"I’ll always wait for you, Wonwoo. No matter what."
Tumblr media
taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @soul-is-a-strange-kid @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo
607 notes · View notes
bookshelf-dust · 6 months
Text
kiss it better
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 3,176
warnings: swearing, sick fic (sorta), steve not taking care of himself, anxiety, stress, mental breakdown?, best friends to lovers deal (let me know if i missed something)
a/n: hi! it’s been awhile. i’m sorry about that. this has been a very slow process for me. my mental health is shit, and that’s probably obvious. i hope it hasn’t seeped into this too much, but it probably will with the next few things i write. i apologize for taking so long to post, for disappearing, for not really making this the blog it once was. but i’m not the same person i was then. so we’ll see where this goes. i hope you enjoy this one a little. i love you.
————
The shrill sound of a phone ringing scares you awake, eyes flying open, heart pounding so aggressively you fear for a split second that it might burst. 
You sit up quickly, enough so that you make yourself dizzy trying to get your bearings. You roll onto your side, and reach blindly across the edge of your nightstand, grabbing for the green plastic that’s shaking with the force of which it’s ringing. 
You almost fall out of bed, just managing to catch yourself as you bring the phone to your ear. 
“Hello?”
Your voice comes out weak, thick with sleep and the longing for more rest. It startles you and makes you clear your throat. 
“Hey, it’s me.”
The voice on the other line is even weaker than your own. It’s quiet.
“Steve?”
Your eyes find the alarm clock on your dresser, bright red letters telling you it’s just after one in the morning. You might be half-asleep, but you’re conscious enough that your heart rate picks up, registering that this isn’t when your best friend normally calls. 
You hear him breathe, along with some shuffling. He’s nodding his head, but realizes you can’t see. 
“Yeah. Listen,” he drags a shaking hand down his face. “I’m sorry to call so late.”
“Hey, it’s okay. What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”
He goes quiet for a moment, but you wait patiently for him to continue. He must be trying to get something out, and you don’t want to pressure him, or cause him stress in any way. 
Steve huffs, frustrated with himself. 
“I-I’ve got an insane headache, and we’re out of goddamn medicine. My parents were here, and my mom was hungover and I guess she must’ve emptied us out, but it hurts too bad to drive, and…” He trails off, breathing heavily. 
His pause lends you a moment to process, and you decide to speak up. If his head is killing him, you know finding the energy to speak to you, let alone call, has to be draining. You wouldn’t want him to suffer anymore than he already is. 
“Stevie?” you start, happy to hear a small hum that encourages you to go on. He registers what you’ve called him, something you don’t call him often, and his chest aches. “I’ve got some I can bring you. I think all the drugstores nearby are closed.” 
You swing your legs out from under the covers, pushing yourself off the mattress. Pressing the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you pull on the pair of sweats slung over the end of your bed, trying not to bust your ass as you hop into them. 
“Is anything else hurting you?” you ask, gently as can be. 
“Honestly?” he responds. “I think I’m sick. I can’t be sick, can I?”
You stand upright once again, taking the phone firmly in your hand. 
“I think even King Steve can get sick from time to time. I’ll be there soon, okay?”
————
Steve’s not sure you understand him. He can’t be sick. He’s got shit to do. He has a shift tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure Dustin needs a ride one day this week because Claudia is on a “girls trip.” He has to keep working on his college essay, because he’d told you he was almost done, but really he isn’t. 
Steve doesn’t have the time to be sick. And he can’t have you ruining your own schedule to come and babysit him. He’s supposed to be the babysitter. Not the charge. 
He should be able to take care of himself, but of course, the one time his parents come home they clean out his mediocre supply of medicine. Something he’s always stocked up on, given his tendency to get the shit beat out of him, or the nasty string of tension headaches that just won’t quit. 
And his head is killing him. He has his palms pressed to his temples, trying (and failing) to dull the ache. There aren’t any lights on in the kitchen, where he’s sitting on the floor, back pressed to the cabinets. 
He’s trying not to move too much either, because he’s dizzy. This probably has to do with the fact that he skipped dinner, feeling too nauseous to eat. Now that Steve is hungry, he fears he won’t be able to get up and fix anything. 
Maybe you’ll be able to help, he thinks. But that voice is quick with a counter argument. No. I need to do it. 
He perks up at the sound of the front door opening. “Steve?” you call out, careful not to slam the door or yell too loud. It’s also why you hadn’t rung the doorbell. 
Steve raps his knuckles softly against the countertop, hoping it’ll be enough to clue you in. He can’t bring himself to shout right now. You follow the sound, taking the few steps toward the kitchen. 
When your eyes lock on his figure, see the way the heels of his hands press into his eyes, you realize how young he looks. He almost looks small, legs pulled up to his chest, big, lanky body compacted as much as possible. He looks vulnerable. You’re sure he hates that. 
“Hi, Steve,” you say, keeping your voice low. 
He looks up at you, and his face splits into a sweet grin. He’s happy that you’re here, even if that voice is screaming at him, wanting to punish him for asking for help. 
“Hey, honey.” You smile back at him, and his heart rate picks up. Sometimes he forgets how beautiful you are, and then you’re standing in front of him, snatching every last breath from his lungs. 
You set your bag down beside him and reach out, brushing his hair back from his forehead. He feels a little warm, but not feverishly so. 
You move away from him, grabbing a cup from the drying rack. You fill it up with water and crouch at his side. Steve takes the glass from you, head resting against the cabinet to watch as you grab him some medicine. You hand him a few pills, and he takes them quickly. If he doesn’t get this headache calmed down soon, he thinks he might just die. 
Steve keeps drinking the water you gave him, and you push his hair back again, watching the way it curls around his ears. 
He drinks about half of the water before he pauses, taking a deep breath. He looks at you then. It’s mostly dark in the kitchen, but the lamp on the table by the front door is on, so you’re a little backlit from it. Not to mention the moonlight seeping in from the window above the sink.
You look gorgeous. And you came over to take care of him. You got up, at one in the morning, and drove to his house, just because he asked you to. Hell, he hadn’t even asked. He hadn’t gotten the words out. But you’d known. You’d known exactly what he was trying to ask, and you’d offered your help with no qualms. 
Steve’s nose starts to sting, and that pressure from behind his eyes—it starts to release. Before he knows it, his vision is getting cloudy, and he’s crying. He can’t be crying, can he? 
You carefully remove the glass from his hand and move in between his spread knees. 
“Steve, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m gonna take top notch care of you.” 
“I know you are,” he says, voice breaking. “But I should be able to do it myself. I always do it myself.” He presses his hands against his face, but you catch his wrists and gently pull them away. 
You hold your arms out, and Steve practically falls into you. He buries his face in your neck. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the cotton of your sleep shirt. You smell like soap, that fancy conditioner you use. 
One of your hands finds the base of his neck, nails scratching gently over his scalp, thumb dragging over the top of his spine. Your other rubs soothingly up and down his back. 
“But the thing is, Stevie, you don’t have to.” 
He’s not a loud crier. But he is sort of panicky, breaths coming quick and short, chest heaving against your own. “I know you’ve always had to do a lot by yourself, but you can ask for help, and you don’t have to punish yourself for it, either.”
You feel him nod against your collarbone. His hands are fisting the back of your shirt. Eventually, he pulls away, but keeps his eyes closed. He tries to keep his head turned from your gaze. 
“Hey. Look at me.”
He does, albeit reluctantly. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, lashes clumped together and lips parted where he tries to suck in a good deep breath. 
You reach up, fingers gently sweeping away the remainder of the tears on his face. He leans into your touch, and you let him. You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his forehead. You’ve never done that before.
Steve recognizes that you’ve never done it before, even if it’s sort of fuzzy. Sure, he’s kissed the back of your hand and you’ve reciprocated, but he’s usually the one to initiate physical affection. You’re too shy most often, even if you ache to do it. 
Fuck, he wishes he were a little more coherent right now. 
“Can you stand for me? It’s late, and I think you need to rest.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sure.” Now that he’s thinking about it, getting in bed sounds so nice. 
You stand first, and watch as Steve pushes off the floor, gripping the countertop on the way up to steady himself. 
“Come on. The stairs are gonna be a pain.”
He reaches out for you, and you let him take your arm. He pads out to the staircase, and you watch each precarious step he takes, hoping he won’t get too woozy and trip. 
By the time he finally makes it up there, he’s wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his face between your shoulder blades. You soften beneath his hold. 
You walk slowly towards his bedroom, and he waddles behind you. You push the door open. “M’kay, Steve. Wanna change clothes and hop into bed?” 
He pulls off of you and grabs hold of his dresser. “I’m not givin’ you a free show.”
You snort. “I’ll go get some more water and be right back.”
His grin fades. “Please be fast.” He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to leave him. 
“Steve, I’m practically The Flash.”
He laughs, pulling a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out of the drawer. Usually he’d sleep in less, but with you here he feels he should keep his modesty.
When you return, he takes the water from you, drinking it faster than he probably should. Steve feels like he’s had the shit beat out of him, and for once—he hasn’t. 
You’d sat down on the edge of the bed, not noticing the way he’s staring at you. You look up when he sets the glass down. He drags both hands down his face. 
“What’s wrong?” you ask.
He exhales. “I want you to stay here with me, but I don’t want you to get sick. The idea of you being on the couch, which is like, miles away, is driving me insane.”
“Steve?”
“Huh?”
“Can’t I just sleep on the futon?”
His eyes move towards the other side of his room where said piece of furniture is pressed against the wall. He’d bought it when group sleepovers became a thing after all they’d dealt with. Jesus, his brain really isn’t working. 
“Oh. Yeah, honey. Just don’t want you to go far.” 
You lean forward and push his hair back from his forehead. You’ll need to remember to take his temperature come morning.
“I’m not going anywhere, Steve. I promise. Not until you’re all better.”
————
When Steve wakes up, you’re not there. He starts to panic, thinking maybe he’d been too much, maybe he’d shown you a side of himself he shouldn’t have, that maybe you left. 
But you return to his room just as he’s about to start looking for you. There’s a thermometer in your hand. 
“Morning, sleepy boy. Are you coherent enough for me to check your temperature? Or no?”
He yanks the covers off of himself, and his shirt has ridden up. You catch a sliver of tummy before he sits up fully, and you miss it the second it’s gone. 
“Hit me, I can take it.”
You roll your eyes but stick the thermometer under his tongue when he opens his mouth. When you pull it away, you’re happy to see he hasn’t got a fever. He was warm last night when you kissed his forehead, but you’re thinking it was from stress or just overheating. 
“No fever. What’s buggin’ you today, Stevie?”
He flops onto his back, and his shirt rides up again. You mentally slap yourself for being so enamored by it. All your brain can compute is tummy. Steve’s tummy. “My head still, and my stomach. I feel like I haven’t slept in four years.”
His words snap you out of your reverie. “Four years? That’s incredible. When’s the last time you ate something?”
Steve stares at you for a moment, though it looks as if there isn’t a single thought behind his eyes. “Yesterday…morning. I think. Yeah, I had a banana.”
You stare back, rather appalled at his statement. “Steve.”
“Hm?”
“All you’ve had to eat in the past twenty four hours is a banana?”
“Yep.”
“Jesus christ. Get your ass up and come with me.”
Steve doesn’t move. Rather he watches you move, right out the door and towards the top of the stairs. You pause and turn around, crossing your arms. 
He huffs. And then he slides down the side of the bed like a child before crawling up and following you to the kitchen. 
Over the course of the next few hours, you manage to get Steve to eat, shower, and go for a short walk, weather permitting and all. He’s looking astronomically better than he did last night. 
Steve sits opposite you on the couch, his socked feet in your lap. “What do you think my deal is?”
You rub your hand over his calf. “I think you just had a little bug. Or maybe you let yourself get too stressed out and your body couldn’t take it.”
He blinks. “Is that…that's not a thing? Is it?”
“When’s the last time you gave yourself a fuckin’ break, Steve? When you just took a day for yourself rather than worrying about who needs to go where, or if you’ll have to cover a shift? You have to take care of yourself, or this is the kind of shit that happens.”
“Being overwhelmed about your parents, not eating, worrying about that application, all of that is fucking with you. That headache was probably a stress headache. They’re killer. I want you to be healthy and comfortable, Steve.”
You exhale, and close your eyes. When you open them, Steve has sat up, scooting towards you on your end of the couch. 
He might still be tired, but he can’t believe this. He can’t believe you. No one has ever worried for him in this way. 
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask. 
He barely even registers your words, too busy memorizing every line on your face. You look so fucking beautiful. It almost makes him angry. 
“I’m thinkin’ about how bad I want to kiss you.”
Your face starts to burn. You shove his shoulder. He looks at the place where you’d pushed, quirking a brow, but grinning nonetheless.
“What?”
“Steve, you can’t say shit like that.”
“How come?”
“Because we’re friends.”
“Best friends.”
“Well yeah, but best friends don’t say that to one another.”
His grin widens. He looks more awake than he has this entire time. 
“Oh, but you haven’t said it.”
You blink. “Huh?”
Steve gets his voice up that little bit higher, doing a cheap imitation of you. “‘Best friends don’t say that to one another.’ Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but that implies you want a kiss too, doesn’t it?”
You drag your hands down your face and flop back against the arm of the couch. 
“So you gonna say it, or what?” He’s shifted, and you can feel him hovering over you, but you refuse to move your hands. 
“Of course I’m thinking about kissing you, Steve.” You suck in a breath and open your eyes, locking with his own. “But you’ve got cooties.”
Steve rolls his eyes before he backs up and yanks on your ankle so that you’re flat against the couch. 
“You did not just lecture me about self-care just to tell me I have cooties. I didn’t even have a fever.” 
“I didn’t even have a fever,” you mock, lowering your voice in what is quite possibly the worst impression of him you could do.
He’s quick about it. Almost stealthy, not that you’d ever boost his ego by telling him so. But his fingers are reaching for your sides, the tips dancing over your shirt, that tiny sliver of hip showing where it’s ridden up. 
Steve is practically drunk off of your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and when he goes for your neck, when you tilt your head and trap his fingers between your cheek and shoulder, he thinks he could die. 
You and your laugh. The fact that you drove over at one in the fucking morning, without even thinking about it, just because you care. That you stayed the night, listened to his pitiful thoughts, took care of him…it’s too much. 
Never in his life did he think he’d find someone like you. Someone who makes him feel like he matters. You’d made him realize how smart he is, how capable. That he could do things for himself and not just to please his dickhead father. 
You have made him whole. 
He lets up when you start breathing extra heavily, only to tickle the underside of your foot before he quits, just to piss you off. You kick him in the side. 
“I think a kiss from my very favorite person might be the best form of self-care there is, honey.”
You sit up. “Wow. King Steve really never died.” He raises his hands like he might tickle you again, but you catch them before he can do any damage. “Okay, sorry!” 
Before he can register it, you’ve leaned in and pressed your lips to his. When he does realize, he lets out a surprised hum, and you can feel that smartass smirk forming on his face. 
When you pull away, he whines. 
“All better?”
Steve falls back against the couch, pulling you with him just to get that laugh out of you again. 
“I’m healed.”
————
please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33
2K notes · View notes
sailorholly · 7 months
Text
Stressed
Tumblr media
Summary: Spencer’s been in a bad mood lately, you help him feel better.
Pairing: Season 5 Spencer Reid x F. Reader
Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY.
W/C: 1.4k
See my Masterlist here
“Who drank the last of the coffee and didn’t make another pot?” Spencer propped up on his cane, asked the crowded police station. One of the officers set his mug down beside the case files spread on the table before him.
“I did. I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t know it was a big deal.” Spencer scoffed. “You didn’t think that anyone else would want coffee, when we have barely had three hours of sleep?” The officer looked stunned, obviously caught off guard by the grumpy FBI agent.
“Kid, like I said, I’m sorry.” Spencer limped over to an empty chair, taking a seat. “Don’t call me kid. It’s Dr. Reid to you.” Hotch shot him a warning glance. “Reid.” Spencer dropped his gaze. The officer put his hands up in defeat, muttering under his breath as he walked away.
You wait until the room clears before going over to Spencer. You walk slowly as if you were approaching a wounded animal. “I started a fresh pot just for you. I’ll bring you a cup when it’s finished.” You smile at him, but he doesn’t return it. “Thanks.”
You can tell he’s still upset. He has been moody for a few weeks. Even though you all had agreed not to profile each other, the team had been taking guesses about what was wrong. You still didn’t have an answer. Hotch tried to speak with him privately, but he wouldn’t open up.
At the end of the day, everyone was glad to be back at the hotel. It wasn’t like the comfort of your homes, but at least it was a place to lay your head down. You all had been running on fumes.
You took a shower, thinking of every detail of the abduction. Something didn’t make sense to you, and you couldn’t get your mind off it. You dried your hair, deciding to knock on Spencer’s door to talk through it.
If anyone could help you figure it out, it was him. He answers the door, looking grouchier than before. “I’m trying to sleep. What do you want?” He snaps. You take in his attire. He’s wearing a cardigan over his button up and dress pants, the same outfit he had on earlier.
You frown, pushing your way into his room. “Since when did you start sleeping in your work clothes?” He closes the door, gripping his cane as he walks toward you sitting on his bed. He sits beside you, keeping his distance.
“You’ve been a real asshole lately, Spencer. It’s so unlike you. Is there anything you want to talk about?” He looks away, avoiding your face. “You can tell me anything. I won’t judge you. I’d love to help you, especially if it gets you out of this bad mood.”
You watch as he considers your words. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?” He asks quietly. You place a hand on your heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” The faintest of smiles appears, the first one you’ve seen in a while.
“Now spill.” He sighs. “I am unbelievably stressed. My mom is on a new medication, and she’s giving her doctors a hard time. I got a new neighbor and he plays loud music late at night. I’ve asked him to stop, and he does for a while. Until I go on a case, when I get back, he’s started again. And I’ve been getting these headaches that won’t go away.”
He rubs his left eye, shoulders sinking in relief after he confessed. “Well, all those are valid reasons to be stressed. You really need to get laid.” You giggle, elbowing his side. “I’ve tried.” You stop laughing. You weren’t expecting a sincere answer. You were only joking.
“Wait, you’ve tried to have sex, but can’t find a partner?” You ask, a little surprised. “Yeah, I think it’s my awkwardness paired with the cane. It freaks them out. They probably think I’m an unsub.” He pushes his hair behind his ear.
“I like the cane.” You admit. “Really?” He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah! I think it’s sexy. Don’t take this the wrong way, but couldn’t you just take care of yourself?” You wince. You were having the most awkward conversation of your life with your favorite coworker.
“I tried that. But I couldn’t finish. My mind would race with a million thoughts. It kills the mood.” You lower yourself to the floor, getting on your knees in front of him. “Wha.. what are you doing?” Spencer asks nervously, his voice raising.
“Helping.” You state matter of factly. You unbutton his pants, pulling the zipper down. You’re careful when you tug his pants and underwear down his legs, going slowly so you don’t hurt him. He takes a deep breath when you wrap both hands around his hard cock.
You lower your head toward his lap, taking him between your lips. You suck slowly, waiting for his reaction. He lets out a shaky breath when you take him to the back of your throat. You suck harder now, saliva dripping down your chin.
Spencer watches you intently. He can’t believe this is happening. All the nights he had laid in bed, imagining this exact scenario as he pleasured himself. His biggest fantasy was playing out before him. He grips the white comforter on the bed with one hand, the other holds your head in place as you bob up and down on him.
This was too much. He was going to come, and he hadn’t seen you naked yet. “Come up here, I want to touch you.” He sounds almost like he’s begging. You release him, standing to remove your clothing. “Take everything off.” You command as your panties hit the floor.
He wastes no time, throwing his cardigan and shirt beside your discarded clothes. He didn’t even unbutton his shirt. You didn’t know how he managed to get it off. “Lay back against the pillows.” He scoots until his back hits the cushiony wall. You climb on top of him, legs positioned around his hips.
You start grinding against him. The head of his cock rubbing against your clit. He tilts his head back, greasy curls splayed out on the pillows. You pepper kisses against the sensitive skin of his neck, while large hands cup your breasts.
He tugs at your nipples, rolling them between calloused fingers. You feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. You couldn’t remember a time when you were more turned on. “I want you to sit on my face.” You notice the faint blush rising on his cheeks as he said the words. “You sure?” He nods his head, confirming. “I want to taste you.”
You place your thighs on either side of his head. He kisses your inner thigh, working his way up to where you need him the most. His curious tongue meets your center, collecting your arousal and bringing it to your clit. He moans, the sound vibrating against you. You clamp your legs tighter around his ears, letting him devour you.
His tongue swirls around you expertly. He could be writing in Morse Code for all you know. You reach for the headboard when his lips wrap around your most sensitive spot. The suction and heat of his mouth tip you over the edge. You reluctantly remove yourself from him, still feeling needy.
“I need you inside of me.” You kiss above his belly button and his cock twitches. “I can’t get on top because of my leg.” He points to the offending appendage like you had forgotten about it. You beam at him, as you you straddle him once more. “I got this.” You line yourself up with his hard length, sinking down on him.
He gasps when he fills you all the way. You move yourself on top of him, placing your hands on his shoulders for support. You rock your hips back and forth, letting your head tip back when he brushes your g-spot. You call his name, tilting your hips so he hits it again.
“You like that?” Spencer asks, gripping your hips, working your body with his. You feel the pressure building inside you. It’s unbelievable. You’re lucky if you get off once during sex, and your second orgasm is quickly approaching. Spencer feels you clenching around him.
“Already?” He is in complete awe of you. You were even better than he imagined. “Oh God, Spencer! I’m so close.” His hands hold you harder. He sits up, pressing his chest flush against yours. Your peaked nipples rub against his chest, adding fuel to the flames.
He removes a hand from your waist, bringing it down between you. The pad of his thumb drags across your clit, making you writhe with pleasure. He looks down at where you’re joined, admiring the view. “You’re taking me so well, Angel.” He swirls fast circles against you, and your orgasm rolls over you in waves.
Spencer watches as you come undone. He follows closely behind you, a string of curses leaving his lips. You bury your head in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily. “I need to be in a bad mood more often.” Spencer thinks out loud, his lips curling upward into a smile.
Tagging some people I think would like this.
@cindylynn @potter-puff007 @multifandom-worlds @mochie85 @wheredafandomat @cynbx @lamentis-10 @megharat-barnes @anonymously-ominous @kats72 @vivian-555 @itzdarling @emarich7 @nomajdetective @aelinismyqueen @wildernessflora @academiareid
2K notes · View notes
hjizngs · 3 months
Text
sick days | lee minho
✼  ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼
hi! this is my first ever post on here,, hehe. constructive criticism is welcomed, hate is not.
cw: sick reader, petnames, slight cursing, slightly suggestive (??), angstyish oops, mostly fluff! just minho being the cutest bf :3
another hacking cough forces itself from your throat, leaving behind a painful sting and the inability to swallow. a frustrated groan emits you, followed by disgruntled sniffle. you hate being sick. 
sore throats, gross coughs, painful headaches, and a stuffed nose were all a recipe for disaster — especially today. you and minho had planned out the perfect date; a picnic, stroll in the park, and finally a movie. you had looked forward to it all week, barely getting through. only the promise of seeing your boyfriend kept you going.
you turn over on your side, the gentle movement sending another round of pain signals ringing in your head. tears sprung to the corners of your swollen eyes. you were devastated at having to miss your date. blearily, you swung a hand over to the bedside table, blindly searching for your phone. 
once found, you swiped over to minho’s contact. pressing the call button, you slumped back onto your pillow defeatedly. 
“jagi?” came the sweet voice of your boyfriend. “what’s up?” 
an exhausted whimper answers him. “min.. min i’m sorry” is all you can utter. 
his voice instantly is filled with concern. “what’s my love sorry for, hm? is everything okay?”
“no, m’sorry min.. i feel so bad. my head hurts, and i puked earlier, and it —“ another pained sound exits you. “— it hurts.” 
something shuffles over the phone, and your boyfriend is quick to reply. “oh, my poor jagi. i’m on my way, don’t worry.”
you furrow your brows. “wh-what? no no you don’t have to do that, min!” 
“see you in five.”
your eyes rolled as your boyfriend hung up on you a abruptly (like he always does — and it never fails to surprise you). coughing again, you accept that there’s nothing you can do to stop him from coming over. you scan your messy room and groan. you’re sick! you don’t want him to see you like this! 
you swing your legs over to the side of your bed, only pausing when a sneeze erupts from your pinkened nose. you settle your socked feet on the floor and attempt to rise to your feet. 
you sway, blinking harshly as to try to clear the black spots plaguing your vision. maybe getting up wasn’t the best idea..? oh well. 
slowly, you begin to shuffle around your room, picking up discarded clothes and trying to round up any embarrassing wrappers or trash. you’re halfway through folding another t-shirt when your body flashes hot, then cold. the pounding in your head increases tenfold and you drop the shirt in favor of clutching your temples. spots engulf your sight and you sink to your knees, not even attempting to make it to the bed.
you’re sweating. but the ceiling fan above only makes you shiver, goosebumps lining your arms. everything is too bright, and you squint from a combination of a headache and the glaring overhead light that suddenly feels like a thousand suns beating down on you. 
another whimper crawls out of your dry throat. the only thing your fever-weakened mind can think is minho. where is minho? you need him, it hurts it hurts everything hurts —
“jagi?! oh my god, are you okay?” thunderous footsteps make their way to you and you wince at the sudden exclamation. 
cold, cool hands press themselves to your trembling body and you sigh in relief. they stroke through your hair, carding through gently. you open one eye to see who they belong to, but clamp it shut immediately, the bright light making your eyelids pulse.
 you hear shuffling from the side, and one of the hands leave you. you suppress a whine, but something in your expression must be alarming because the voice coos. “oh, baby, i’m just turning off the light, okay?” 
no, it’s not okay. not when those hands are the only thing grounding you, keeping you from melting. however, as promised, the offending light gets shut off, and you hum in appreciation. 
the nice hands quickly return to their rightful place in your hair, and you bravely attempt to open your swollen eyes again.
your boyfriend looks down at you gently. “my poor girl. let’s get you back into bed, hm?”
you nod pathetically, letting him lift you up and place you softly on your mattress. you murmur a quiet thanks and he kisses your sweaty forehead in response. he sits on the side of the bed next to you, placing his hand on your leg and rubbing comforting circles into your skin.
“have you eaten at all yet?” he inquires.
you shake your head, “no, not yet. i don’t think i could eat a thing without puking it back up, to be honest.”
minho hums at that, scanning your face. he reaches out and places a small hand on your forehead, feeling out your temperature. he frowns.
“i think we need to check for a fever, honey. you’re very warm.”
he moves to go stand and you pout. “don’t leave, please.”
“i’m just going to grab the thermometer and a glass of water, i’ll be right back, okay?”
“be fast!” you plead.
he cards a hand through your hair. “i’ll be so fast, jagiya.”
it feels like an eternity as minho tries to locate the thermometer from outside your bedroom. you shiver again, pulling the closest fuzzy blanket over you and burrowing into it.
and that’s how he finds you when he returns — a sweaty, sick burrito. you watch as he smiles down at you fondly, pulling back the blanket a little to take a look at you.
“think you can sit up for me? need help?” he asks.
“need help, please,” you respond nasally.
minho aids in positioning you up so you’re leaning against your pillow. he holds out the found thermometer and motions for you to open your mouth.
you oblige and he places the thermometer under your tongue. after a few moments, he pulls it out and looks down on it with a displeased expression — like it personally offended him.
“100.” he states, his brow crinkling. “yeah, you’re not leaving this bed.”
you sigh and slump farther into your blanket. “i’d rather hear that in a different situation.”
minho blinks slowly, fondly. “i’ll ignore that, just because you’re sick.”
you stick out your tongue as he rises from the bed to put away the thermometer. he looks down at you, unimpressed, but with a twinkle of amusement in his catlike eyes. “brat.”
“i’m sick!” you whine, “be nice.”
“i am being nice. so nice, in fact, that i’ll ignore this little attitude —“ he reaches down and pokes your forehead, “— because i know that you feel like shit.”
you roll your eyes when he’s turned and putting the thermometer in some drawer, but deep down you’re very grateful he came over to take care of you. for all his teasing, he really does treasure you. you still feel bad for canceling the date.
in some feverish, dramatic mood change, tears begin to well in the corners of your eyes. they’re hot and uncomfortable, and you sniffle. not only did you cancel the date, you’re acting like a brat instead of thanking minho for looking after you.
“m’sorry,” you croak from your cocoon of blankets.
minho turns around sharply and scans your face quickly. he strides over to the bed and sits beside you. “what?”
“m’sorry!” tears begin to trickle down your face, sticky and unwanted. you reach up to swipe them away.
minho’s hand reaches out, grabbing onto your arm and lightly tugging you into his chest. “silly girl. what are you sorry for?”
“f’making you come over and take care of me and being a brat and not saying thank you!” you rush out, slurring some words.
a chuckle shakes minho’s chest. “oh wow, you’re really out of it, huh?”
“i’m sorry!”
“hey, hey,” his joking manner disappears when a fresh wave of tears erupts from your eyes. “you have nothing to be sorry for. you’re sick. you have a fever, baby. you aren’t being a brat, i’m sorry i called you that when you weren’t feeling well.”
you peek up at him. “you mean it?”
minho doesn’t respond, just pulls you tighter into his chest and kisses the top of your hair. his cool hand rubs on your back soothingly under your shirt. he gently lays back onto your bed, cradling you to his chest.
“try to sleep some of this off. take a nap,” he orders you lightly. “i’ll be right here.”
at his words, you snuggle into him. he reaches to the side and pulls a blanket over the two of you. just before sleep takes it’s hold over you, you look up at him, catching his eye.
“thanks for being here, min. i love you,” you murmur, your eyelids getting heavier and heavier as you begin to succumb to sleep.
the last thing you hear before sinking into feverish dreams is, “anytime, baby. i love you more.”
✼  ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼
yas! ok! first post done, please lmk what u think!!!1 reblogs and likes are appreciated:3
617 notes · View notes
dark-mnjiro · 1 month
Text
make me :: adam x afab!reader
Tumblr media
Author’s Note: welcome to my hell. This shit eating grin sexist garbage man is now my entire world. Happy fucking Valentine’s Day. I’m in hell.
Content Warnings: angel!adam x afab!reader, explicit sexual content, explicit language, teasing, choking, missionary, mating press, dirty talk, unsafe sex, breeding kink, dacryphilia (if you squint), quite frankly adam is a content warning himself…
Tumblr media
Nonstop.
He had been ranting nonstop for nearly ten minutes.
Adam’s hands were locked firmly on your hips, keeping you locked and straddling his waist while he relaxed against the couch. You couldn’t recall exactly when you stopped listening to his nonstop rant, but so far he hadn’t seemed to notice.
“And Miss Sunshine and Rainbows think she can rehabilitate sinners-” he merely stopped to cackle. “And thinks they can just come up here and fuck up the good shit we have here-HA.”
You felt his gaze on you before you quickly flashed a smile and a quick to acknowledge you were “paying attention”.
His grip on your hips tightened before he began talking again. “Getting rid of the extermination?” He continued. “Can you fucking believe that shit, babe? Who the fuck would allow that?!”
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes in an attempt to keep your expression invested in his words. Being Adam’s third wife had its perks, but his mouth was unfortunately one of the cons. You had tuned out of the conversation a long time ago, but your eyes watched his lips moving as he ranted.
How you wished you could shut him up.
“What a fucking bitch am I right?”
You blinked at Adam. “I suppose.”
“You suppose? Babe, were you listening to anything I was saying?”
Furrowing your brows, an annoyed sigh fell from your lips. “Adam—”
He let out a painful groan. “My wife doesn’t want to listen to me!”
Not again.
“Adam.”
“I can’t believe you weren’t listening to me!” he wailed.
Your expression went flat as you took your fingers, rubbing your temple from the impending headache that was to come. “Adam. I swear-”
He didn’t hear you. “My WIFE.”
“Oh, my GOD. SHUT UP ADAM.”
He was silent for a moment before his golden eyes narrowed at you. “Fucking make me.”
The tone of his voice sent shivers down your spine before his grip on your hips tightened.
“Adam!”
His lips curled into a smirk. “Hm?”
“That fucking hurts!”
“Please,” he practically snorted. “You won’t do shit.”
“Fuck you, Adam.”
His tongue slid along his lower lip.
“Let me go,” you snapped before trying to push yourself away from him. His grip only tightened on your thighs. “You’re such an asshole!”
In one, swift movement, you found Adam on top of you with your arms pinned over your head. He used his body weight against you, forcing you down against the couch. The smirk on his lips only grew before he ground his hips against your own. The friction made you gasp before struggling against him again.
“What a little brat you are,” he taunted. “Maybe I can fuck this attitude right out of you.”
Heat rose the back of your neck before he leaned in and pressed his lips against your own. His tongue probed at your lip, pushing into your mouth.
His hands moved down your arms and found their way to your chest. You moaned into the kiss as Adam gave your breasts a firm squeeze through your top. His hands moved lower, gripping the edge of your top before quickly discarding the article of clothing.
Adam pulled away from your mouth before taking in your flustered expression as you tried to catch your breath. His tongue moved along his lips again before the corner of his mouth tugged back into his signature smirk.
Your eyes narrowed. “Come on Adam.”
“Hm?”
He was taunting you now.
“What does my pretty baby want?”
Scowling, you looked away. “You know what.”
Adam tilted his head to the side, feigning innocence. “I do?”
“Don’t act stupid!”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Heat burned at your cheeks. “Adam, please.”
“Tell me what you want.” He continued as his hands went to your pants. “Or I walk away.”
“Adam!”
He merely tilted his head to the opposite side.
His fingers brushed against the exposed flesh of your tummy before tugging lightly on your pants again. Heat pooled between your legs before you managed to mumble a small “fuck me” to him.
He leaned in. “What was that babe?”
You scowled. “Fuck me already!”
The golden hues in his eyes flashed playfully before he quickly made work of the rest of your clothing, tossing it haphazardly to the floor. He sat back, removing his robes. He so ready your legs before you felt the tip of his cock pressing against you.
“Ready?”
Glaring, you tried to scoot your hips down. “Adam…”
He scoffed before finally pushing into you. His golden eyes rolled back as he groaned, feeling your cunt squeeze him tightly. While he wasn’t the longest cock you had ever experienced (to be honest he was pretty average at best) - his thickness alone was enough to send you reeling. Tears beaded at the corner of your eyes as you tried to adjust to the stretch.
“I never get tired of feeling this tight pussy,” he moaned, offering you a shallow thrust.
Your eyes slipped shut as his name tumbled off your lips in whimpers. Adam adjusted his position, taking your legs and guiding your ankles to rest on his shoulder. The position forced him to take a deeper angle as his pace increased.
“Fuck,” he growled. “That’s fucking it, baby…”
He pushed your thighs back, pressing your legs against your chest. His favorite position - the mating press. You gasped as you felt the tip of his cock kiss your cervix.
Smirking, Adam leaned over as his free hand came to your throat. Your hand encircled around his wrist as he squeezed your throat lightly.
“Adam…” you whined.
“Stay right there,” he growled before thrusting into you harder. You could tell you wouldn’t hold out much longer… Adam knew it too. He leaned down to your ear. “Clenching I see,” he groaned. “Gonna cum on this cock? What a filthy angel you are for me…”
Even balls deep… he couldn’t resist running his mouth.
“You love this cock don’t you?” He teased as your eyes squeezed shut again. “Can barely take it, huh baby?”
“Adam!”
“That’s it,” he groaned.
Pleasure washed over your body before your body shuddered with orgasm. Adam’s hips stuttered as his thrusts became sloppy. He wouldn’t last much longer. He grunted again before releasing inside of you.
“Fuck,” he hissed before collapsing on top of you.
Your hands came up and raked through his dark hair as you tried to catch your labored breaths. His nose brushed against the nape of your neck.
“You okay?”
You couldn’t help but smile. “I’m fine Adam,” you assured him. “More than fine.” Despite his typical attitude, he always wanted to check up on you. Even after sex.
He chuckled. “Wanna go again?”
“Dumbass.”
“Dickmaster to you!”
851 notes · View notes
thecuriousquest · 4 months
Text
Don’t Close Your Eyes
Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @palesweetscherryblossom @chickennugnugnug @murderofravens
Warnings: Platonic yandere themes, hurt/comfort, vomiting, painful migraines, Gojo is kind of a bad dad, Gojo obsesses over his daughter’s beauty
Summary: Your father, Satoru Gojo, gives you everything you want. What will happen when something you want breaks one of his very few rules? (Featuring Uncle Nanami)
Master List
—————————————————————————
Tumblr media
You love your father with all of your heart, but it’s really hard to be his daughter sometimes. He spoils you rotten. You want ice cream or mochi for breakfast? Cookies for dinner? You got it. The most expensive sushi for lunch? Say no more. You want that really expensive necklace and designer outfit? Done.
He wraps you up in the thickest of blankets and carries you through life. If he had things his way, he’d make sure you didn’t even have to put a toe on the ground. You’ve never been confronted with any real world issues thanks to your doting pops, but you feel as though you’re living inside of a shell.
However, having inherited the Six Eyes from him, you suffer not only from an overprotective father, you also suffer from violent migraines due to oversensitivity and overstimulation of the senses. You’re extremely light sensitive. Even the dullest fraction of light can trigger a headache.
This being said, your daddy doesn’t allow you to cover your eyes…ever. He says, “They’re too beautiful to cover up” or “Why would you even think about hiding something I gave you?” You can’t even convince him to buy you those really dark sunglasses where no light can pass through.
You often find yourself trying to cut up towels for makeshift blindfolds just so you can get some sleep, but you’re only lightly scolded by your father and told not to “play with scissors” despite being fourteen years old.
———
Satoru comes home from a mission, greeting Nanami as he asked the blonde sorcerer to keep an eye on you while he was gone.
“How was she? Who am I kidding? She was perfect, wasn’t she?”
“No, she was not. She was crass and rude because she was in pain the entire time. She cursed me out more times than I care to tell, and she barely ate, and what she did eat, she threw up. Gojo, you have to do something about her migraines because whenever I come over to watch her, I end up getting them as well.”
The lanky man’s jaw hangs wide open as he listens to Nanami’s speech. After a minute of processing, he drops the bag of souvenirs on a nearby table and huffs a fatherly sigh.
“Are you sure it’s her? I mean, you could just be incapable of looking after her.”
“It’s not her, Gojo. It’s you,” Nanami states as he picks up his bag. “I’m leaving now. She’s upstairs in her room crying her eyes out because you refuse to do anything about her oversensitivity.”
With that said, Kento brushes past Satoru and leaves the Gojo household.
Satoru trails up the stairs, bag in hand, and knocks on the door twice. When he receives no response, only hearing you choking on sobs, he opens the door to see you shaking under the covers. He strides over to you, pulling the blanket back so that he can see you holding your head with your eyes squeezed shut. Placing the bag on the floor, your dad takes a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Hey, there’s my pretty girl. Uncle Nanami told me you were having a bad day. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Hurts!” Is all you can bite out with the amount of pain you’re in. You curse yourself for even speaking because your skull is pounding from all of the noise. “Please, Daddy, make it stop!”
He shushes you, pulling you up towards his chest so that you can cry into his shoulder.
“We could try a sedative?”
“Those don’t fucking work! You can’t do anything right! God, you’re fucking useless!” You grip his shirt and blow tears and snot into it as you wail at him in a fit of pain and teenage rage.
Gojo, being used to the cursing, only rolls his eyes. He can’t scold you right now. It wouldn’t help anyway. You wouldn’t even be able to focus on a lecture at the moment. Instead, he holds you closer and presses a kiss against your hair.
“Daddy, please…covering my eyes…it’s the only thing that works.” You flinch when the migraine feels like a brick has been smashed against the back of your head.
“You know the rules. I want to be able to see your gorgeous face every day. You’re my sunshine, sweetie. Your eyes are so beautiful.”
“Fuck you! Uncle Nanami lets me cover my eyes!”
“Well, then, Uncle Nanami isn’t going to be able to watch you anymore.”
You shake your head slightly, desperately. “I…No, you can’t do that. Daddy, please, I want to see Uncle Nanami!”
Gojo lowers his glasses and looks at you. “I’m your father, so I can do whatever I want. These headaches are just a phase. You’ll grow out of them. You don’t need to cover your eyes. I never wore them as a child. You didn’t have these migraines as a little kid, so you’ll probably get over them at some point. You just need to-”
The storm in your head causes violent waves to crash against your skull, rattling the ship that is your brain. Blood rages in your ears, and you can only hear your father’s voice in a low hum before succumbing to nausea for the fourth time today.
Throwing your blanket off of you and reaching for the trashcan that’s right by your bed, you hurl into the black plastic bin that’s almost half full of your bile and stomach contents. Gojo looks into it and can clearly see that Nanami had made you fish for dinner.
Your father does his best to try and comfort you, rubbing your back as you vomit water and whatever else your stomach can wretch. Coughing signals an end to your regurgitation, and you put the trash bin down on the floor in front of you.
Calmly now, with no heat or bite behind your words, you look away from your father and ask, “Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?”
You hate to ask him for this after being so angry with him, but a comforting presence next to you can sometimes help with your migraine induced insomnia. It can sometimes even dull the headaches to a certain extent.
“Of course. Anything for my little girl.”
Lying down, you rub your temples as Satoru trails the tips of his fingernails up and down your back. Being emotionally drained and physically exhausted, as well as having your father sit right beside you, it doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep.
As Gojo watches his precious angel close her eyes, he runs his fingers through your hair and smiles. You’re finally asleep and looking peaceful. If you had eye coverings on, he wouldn’t be able to see the whites of your lashes curving as you enter a dream.
He knows in his heart that he’s doing the right thing.
852 notes · View notes
sleekswosobession · 2 months
Text
a bit hot
Tumblr media
barça fem x teen!reader
request: here
A/N: yesterday i was in shambles trying to write this.. i keep getting sickness i write about 💀food poisoning next 😃
TW: Vomit, passing out, illness
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It all started with a small headache, it was one you could tolerate, probably just a bit of exhaustion and would go away once drinking water. The thing was though, it didn’t go away.
It was hot in Barcelona, 37° C hot. Water intake for everyone was high, and you were being made to drink extra water by not only the physios, but also your Captains.
Honestly, you thought everyone was feeling like this if you’d been drinking the most and still feeling headachy. You persevere though determined to not let a bit of pain decide how the training goes.
But when ignored, problems only get worse.
It only takes half an hour for your overall health to decline, and obviously people notice. How couldn’t they when it looked like you couldn’t even think straight.
Which is true. You don’t recognise what’s happening until Alexia is pulling you away and inside the air-conditioned room.
“Dios Mío. What are we going to do with you.” Is the first thing she says, putting you in the direct line of 18° coolness blasting. It isn’t enough though.
You feel yourself growing tired, your head dropping every few seconds.
“Hey, hey. Stay awake for me yeah?” Your captain asks you. The only thing you are capable of doing is groaning before ultimately passing out, falling into her chest.
- - - - -
When you wake up again, you’re in a different room. A fan blowing on you and a UV line dripping into your skin. Alexia is also there, who has been joined by Marta and Mapi.
You feel sick to your stomach, shutting your eyes in hopes of holding anything inside back. Conceal don’t feel right? That’s what Elsa says.
You hear footsteps cautiously approach, you don’t have to open your eyes to know it’s Alexia.
“Nena?” She whispers quietly, placing her hand on your still slightly warm skin. You shake your head, trying to suppress any indicators that you were about to throw up. She knows better, Mapi knows better, Marta knows better.
The other captain throws Alexia a puke bag who holds it in front of your mouth.
“Come on, I know you don’t want to but please. You’ll feel better.” You give into her and into yourself. Retching into the bag, making all the girls in the room cringe at the sound.
Once you’ve pulled yourself together, Alexia closes the bag and disposes it in a bin in the corner.
“Are you going to throw up again soon or no?” She asks, sparing a glance at the other two.
“I should be fine, thanks Ale.” Your voice is hoarse and slightly cracks.
“Ok, good.” She leans against the table you’re on thinking about what to say next. Marta beats her to it.
“Why didn’t you speak up about how ill you were? We would’ve brought you in sooner.” You sigh.
“Well I thought we were all going through that! I had been drinking more water than you guys yet I’m still the one who is plugged into a machine?”
“You have to promise to tell us next time ok?” Alexia asks, you nod.
“Bebita, I have Ingrid ready in the car when you feel well enough. The doctor said you could take the UV out when you wake up” You smile at the thought of getting into your bed at home.
“Ok, thanks Mapi.” She pats your leg smiling.
“We’ll talk about this another day ok? Go home, get rest. You are not going to be training in conditions like these over the next few days. Some investigators are looking into why this has happened so they might want to talk to you at some point.” She finishes curiously.
“Well, sounds fun. I wanna go home now.” Mapi nods, helping you stay up and walking toward the car where Ingrid is already situated.
- - - - -
When you get home you’re exhausted, hungry and sweaty.
“Come on elskling, I’ll run you a bath while Mapi gets you some light food. Then you can sleep for however long you need. Is that ok?” Ingrid says, pushing you inside.
“Mkay, thanks Ingrid.” She kisses your temple placing the training bags she was holding in her room before going to the bathroom to start a cool bath.
“I won’t make you anything warm, do you want a salad?” A salad does sound good, and refreshing.
“Sounds good.” She leads you to the bench, the cool countertop doing wonders against your warm skin.
She gets the salad ready rather fast, it’s not that big, but definitely enough that you won’t go to sleep uncomfortable.
Soon after eating your food, Ingrid comes back.
“Bath is ready when you are.”
You nod, legs still shaky so the couple helps you to the bathroom sitting you down.
“You’ll be ok?” Ingrid asks feeling your forehead, still cringing slightly.
“Yeah, I will. Thank you both… this means so much to me.”
“Don’t worry bebita, it’s the least we can do.” Mapi says smiling.
They both take your silence as a que to leave the room so they do. The bath relaxes you, and takes away most of the uncomfortable feelings inside.
When you’re done, you change into shorts and an old shirt, walking out slowly to the living room where Ingrid is reading a book and Mapi is playing with Bagheera.
Ingrid notices you first.
“Do you want medicine? Then you can sleep.”
“Yes please.” She gets up, going to medical cabinet pulling two paracetamol out and handing them to you with a glass of water.
“Drink.” You do as told and you finally let the exhaustion of the day come up to you. Before you realise what’s happening, Mapi has lifted you up and is taking you to your room.
“If you need anything, we’ll be here. Promise.” She whispers, putting you to bed. You smile up at her before falling into a peaceful slumber.
—————————————————
thanks for all the love and support guys, i hope that i can post the other fic tonight so you get 2 in one day 😘
482 notes · View notes
saetoru · 11 months
Text
✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。THE SAME — GOJO SATORU.
✩ — contents ⋮ fluff, gn! reader, established relationship, recent chapter spoilers, just gojo coming home and reuniting with you :(
Tumblr media Tumblr media
when gojo comes home, everything is still the same.
that picture on the wall that’s too high for you to reach is still crooked, no matter how many times you’ve asked him to fix it. the pile of shoes you keep by the door is still there for him to step over, no matter how many times you swear you’ll clean it up. that blanket on the couch is still draped messily over the cushions, no matter how many times you both agree it should be folded. and that bowl of candy on the coffee table is still filled to the brim, no matter how many times you claim you won’t keep buying sweets if he finishes them too fast.
everything is still the same, like you’ve left it all there waiting for him, hoping he’ll come home. and just like always, the way you run up to him and greet him by the door is also still the same—even though right now, your eyes are a lot more teary than usual.
“oh,” you breathe, “oh, satoru,” you say gently, like saying his name too loud will make him disappear. he pushes his blindfold up to his forehead, meeting your eyes as he’s opening his arms for you to fall into. if his eyes are a little misty too, you choose not to mention it, and he’s grateful.
“i’m home, sweetheart,” he grins, plastering that easy grin on his face. “miss me? you didn’t replace me already, did you?”
your face is buried into his chest before he can finish speaking, tackling him into a tight hug. gojo wraps his arms around you tightly, grounds himself with the weight of your arms as you clutch his shirt. you still feel the same too, still feel like that familiar warmth in his arms that feels like holding the sun, that feels like he can get too close without burning.
it’s not hard to see that you’ve missed him.
it’s been nineteen days without gojo satoru. four hundred and fifty six hours. twenty seven thousand three hundred and sixty minutes. it’s a long, agonizing period of time—one that makes you realize how accustomed you are to gojo’s presence—even when he’s not always beside you.
you’ve missed his whiny voicemails to pick up his calls in the mornings as you try to get ready. you’ve missed the bathroom mirror he manages to get completely wet when he washes his face after shaving. you’ve missed the socks he always keeps laying around the bedroom floor. you’ve missed the coffee mug he leaves for you to wash before he leaves for the day. you’ve missed the empty gallon of milk he puts back into the fridge instead of throwing away.
it’s lonely, you realize, when there are no voicemails to delete, no mirrors to wipe, no socks to pick up, no mugs to wash, no milk cartons to throw away.
you’ve missed gojo—even in the ways you swore you never would, in the ways that are imperfect, but not hard to love.
“no one can replace you,” you say teasingly through sniffles, pretending you haven’t stained his shirt with a wet spot, “you’re the only person who could be this big of a headache.”
“i’m the only person who could be this handsome too,” he insists, squeezing you tighter.
“don’t know about that one.”
“c’mon, just look at me,” he whines, squeezing your hips with his hands. you’ve missed them, missed the way you fit in between them, missed the way they find your body for a touch, even if it’s quick. “i’m the cutest.”
you pull away enough to cup his cheeks, pressing your forehead to his as you scan over his face. you could count every lash, stare at every curve, relearn every inch of skin if you could. now that he’s here, you can.
“i’m looking,” you breathe, pressing a kiss to his cheek. he closes his eyes at the feel of your lips, at the sear of your love melting through the skin and into his bones.
“like what you see?” he hums, making you chuckle as you nod.
“i suppose,” you murmur. “did you come back to me in one piece?”
“just who do you think i am,” he pouts, “course i did.”
“got all your fingers?” you raise a brow.
he grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together as he hums.
“all ten,” he confirms.
“both kidneys?”
“fully functioning,” he nods, making you grin.
“you seem to have both of your lanky old legs,” you chuckle, making him gasp a dramatic hey! “got all your toes?”
“you’ll have to pay me to see those,” he wriggles his brows, making you scoff as you swat at his shoulder.
and you’ve missed him like this too—in his laughter you feel through his chest, in his dramatic pout when you playfully smack his arm, in his finger he points to his cheeks for a kiss to feel better.
something tells you he’s missed you too, if the way he keeps his arms tight around you means anything.
because what is a god without his creations? and what is gojo satoru without the gentle love he’s built with you, created carefully between rough hands and the worn out knuckles? he holds you like you’re the answer to his prayers, like he’d kneel before you if you asked him to, like he’d rebuild the gates of heaven before your feet if it meant keeping you here in his arms for a bit longer.
gojo satoru is home. nineteen long days later, he’s home. he’s back in your apartment, the one with that crooked photo and pile of shoes at the front door, the one with the blanket on the couch to hold you under as he eats the candy you keep just for him on the coffee table.
he’s home, and he thinks he’ll never spend another night without you again.
“i missed you,” you say through a watery voice. he hums, wipes your tears with delicate thumbs that trace the lingering ache away.
“yeah? how about now, still miss me now?”
he smiles when you nod, kissing between your brows and swaying your body gently.
“always miss you,” you say with a teary pout. “don’t do that again.”
“i missed you too, sweetheart. don’t worry.”
“i love you,” you say, tasting the words on your tongue after so long.
and he lets his head fall to your shoulder as he hears them, lets out a shaky breath at the way they sound when you say them like that. like you missed him. like you need him. like you can’t lose him. like he’s all you have left. like he’s your past, present, future, and everything beyond that. like he’s yours in this life and the last, and always the one that comes next.
“love you too, sweetheart,” he says against your ear, kissing your skin gently, “i’m home.”
Tumblr media
i love him painfully
3K notes · View notes