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hxney-lemcn · 2 months

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Looking Out For You — Giyū Tomioka x gn! hashira! reader

summary: your decision to befriend the reclusive water hashira turns your life around for the better.

tw: anxious and insecure reader, awkward convos, non-descriptive injuries, mentions of getting stitches.

a/n: I finally wrote for Kimetsu no Yaiba, been a fan of this when there was only one season of the show (read the entire manga as it got updated).

wc: 6k

Master List

It was no secret that the water hashira was a loner. He stuck to himself and blended into the background. At first you were neutral towards him, you were similar in a sense. Kept to yourself and tried to blend into the background. The big difference is that not only were you friends with the love hashira, but you had managed to endear yourself towards some of the others. You weren’t sure how you did it, but it was nice to know that they cared. For Giyū Tomioka, it was the complete opposite.

You could only hear insults towards the man for so long. A part of you related to him, and hearing Kochō be so passive aggressive towards him made you feel unsettled. So you made up your mind, you were going to try and befriend Tomioka. You had been completely alone before, and you had wished for someone to befriend you, so you were sure he was longing for the same.

You had told Mitsuri of your plan as you both walked towards the Ubuyashiki Estate. You all had been called for a brief. These were rare, but it was nice to see how your fellow hashira’s were, and also a perfect excuse to try and talk to the water hashira. Mitsuri was nearly jumping up and down at the information, an excited grin overtaking her features.

“That’s so cute!” She squealed, clasping her hands together. “You have to tell me how it goes.”

“I already feel like I’m going to fail,” You said, slightly sweating at the thought. “Last time I tried to make a friend it ended up really awkward because I never know what to say.”

“Hm,” She hummed in thought. “Just try and find a connection.”

You purse your lips, “That’s easier said than done.”

It wasn’t much longer before you found yourself sitting next to the stoic man. Ubuyashiki was going over statistics, how we could improve and how well we’ve been doing. I felt myself getting more anxious by the second. After the meeting I would try and at least say hi, but I was wondering if that was a good idea. Seconds ticked by while you had basically toned out Ubuyashiki’s smooth voice, fingers fidgeting in your lap. Once you were all excused, you hyped yourself up, looking over to the black haired man.

“Hello!” You said a little too loudly, a nervous smile adorned your lips as you gained Tomioka’s attention.

His blank stare watched you for a few seconds before replying, “Excuse me.”

Then he left.

…just like that. You blinked, mouth dropping in slight awe at just how fast he managed to escape. You had spent so long going over situations and anxious thoughts…only for him to barely acknowledge you.

You didn’t even realize Mitsuri joined you until she spoke up, “Maybe next time?”

You turned your attention to the green eyed beauty, a pout adorning your lips, “He didn’t even say hi back.”

“Ara ara~” Kochō joined us, an empty smile placed on her lips. “I’m afraid it’s a lost cause.”

Your playful pout had turned into a frown, your feelings towards the insect pillar were mixed. She was blunt, which would be nice at times, but others it could be harsh. “Oh well,” You shrugged. “At least I’ll be able to say I tried.”

You had accidently ran into Tomioka only a few days later. You were walking back to your estate, exhausted after a long mission. It was more tedious than difficult, as the walking had been longer than the fight by far. You couldn’t believe your eyes when they landed on the split patterned haori. Before your anxiety could get the best of you, you approached him.

“Hello!” You waved, this time not shouting. “How are you doing Tomioka-san?”

Once again his stoic features watched you briefly, like he was trying to gauge your intentions, “I’m doing fine.”

Yes! He couldn’t run away like last time, you’ll make sure of it.

“How old are you?” You asked, genuinely curious. He looked both young and old in a sense, and you were curious where you stood compared to your ages.

Another awkward pause as you both stood on the trail, Tomioka finally answered, “Ninteen.”

Your mouth dropped open, unable to hide your surprise, “Nineteen! I thought you were at least twenty-two!” Tamioka only glanced away awkwardly, and you waved your hands around. “Not that it's a bad thing, I’m only twenty! So we’re really close in age. Besides, Tokitō’s fourteen so nineteen isn’t that bad…sorry I’m rambling.”

Your anxiety started to run rampant, this is the most you had spoken to the water pillar and it was really awkward. You both seemed to be in the same boat as he awkwardly nodded, arms crossed as his eyes couldn’t meet yours. An awkward silence encompassed you both and you felt yourself losing your composure.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized again, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment. “I want to befriend you but I’m very bad at talking to others. Mitsuri-chan recommended finding something we both relate to, but I am unsure how to do that.” You weren’t sure if your mind was playing tricks on you, but you swore Tomioka’s eyes widened slightly, head tilting ever so slightly. He almost reminded you of a puppy.

“We shouldn’t be friends,” Tomioka’s tone spoke with finality. Your brows furrowed, you could understand him saying that, but the sting of rejection overpowered your thoughts. Normally you’d bow as an apology and scurry away to mull over all the points in which you made yourself look like a fool, but your wish to friend him overpowered that.

“Why not?” You asked, a slight frown pulling on your lips.

Tomioka opened his mouth only to close it, eyebrows furrowing in thought. Finally, he replied, “I don’t want to be friends with you.”

You nodded, the sting of rejection spreading. You felt your face flush in embarrassment as you bowed, “I apologize, I wish you well Tomioka-san.”

You quickly turned around, rushing towards your estate, shame and embarrassment continuing to flood through you. You had quickly written a letter to Mitsuri, venting about how embarrassed you were. You had been sent on another mission shortly after, allowing you to forget about your embarrassing fiasco, at least for a brief moment. You were nearly back to normal, your restless nights finally ceasing as the memory started to fade to the back of your mind. Until it was violently forced back to the forefront.

You had found yourself resting in the same wisteria house as Giyū Tomioka. You both sat in silence, eating your food without acknowledging the other. It felt wrong, like you should say something, but those words he spoke rang in your head, holding you back, ‘I don’t want to be friends with you.’

You hate to admit it, but that simple sentence had brung back insecurities you thought you had overcome. You didn’t blame him, not at all. It wasn’t Tomioka’s fault that you had seemed to crumble due to one person's seemingly unapproval of you. You ate with your head bowed, hoping that you weren’t annoying him in any way. Was it the way you looked? The way you talked? Had you rambled too much in your nervousness? Did your mere aura annoy him? If so, you felt even more guilty for making him sit in your presence.

Tomioka on the other hand hadn’t noticed your inner dilemma. Although he did find you seeming to shrink in on yourself further and further unusual, he wasn’t sure what your normal was. You hadn’t seemed to act like this around the other hashira’s, he only saw glimpses of you. If he were to be honest, he had seen the way you interacted with Mitsuri, so lively and happy. He wished he could experience that side of you, but he knew he had ruined any chance already. ‘I don’t want to be friends with you,’ those words haunted him. It was a lie, he did in fact want to be friends with you, but you were better off without him. He would only manage to drag you down.

“Are you finished?” Tomioka asked. You hadn’t even realized you had stopped eating. Looking up at him for the first time, you stared at him with wide eyes.

“Oh! Uh, yeah,” You stumbled. “Here, I can clean up.” Moving faster than he could protest, you had grabbed the empty bowls and started cleaning, not wanting to be a burden. The lady of the house was surprised when you approached her with the dirty dishes, asking where to set them. When she protested you helping her wash them, you begrudgingly made your way back to your shared room for the night.

“Thank you,” Tomioka spoke up randomly, causing you to glance at him.

“It’s okay,” You shrugged, prepping your futon to your liking. “I like helping.”

It was harder for you to fall asleep than you’d like to admit. You had been running around for the past few days and it seemed that your mind couldn’t settle just yet. You kept your eyes closed, willing yourself to sleep as your body felt exhausted.

It was even harder for you to fall asleep as Tomioka had murmured into the night, “I wish we could be friends, but this is for the best.”

Great, now you really weren’t going to fall asleep.

The sun was just starting to shine through the windows, causing you to slowly wake up. You were surprised that you had awoken earlier than Tomioka. He looked so peaceful, the usual tension in his face had been relaxed. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you went to take care of yourself in the bathroom. Your foggy mind slowly remembered the restless night before, how Tomioka had confessed to wanting to be friends with you when he thought you were asleep. Now that you knew that you weren’t the problem/reason, you were going to try even harder to befriend him.

When you returned to the room, you had half expected the room to be empty, but to your delight, Tomioka was still there, having just woken up.

“Good morning,” You smiled sleepily, still feeling sluggish. You tried to ignore how cute he looked as he rubbed his eyes.

“Good morning,” Tomioka replied back softly.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked, hoping to keep the conversation going. While talking, you made your way to your satchel, making sure everything was in order.

“Yes,” He replied, the sounds of shuffling cloth coming from behind you. Glancing back, you watched as he was about to leave. “Excuse me,” He alerted, sliding the door open and leaving. At first you thought he was leaving completely like the last time, except you noticed his sword was still in the room.

‘Good,’ You thought. ‘He should at least eat something before leaving.’

The lady of the house knocked on the door before entering, a bright smile on her face. You both chatted briefly as she set up a zataku table, loading some food on top. Tomioka entered the room not long after, glancing at the food but ignoring it. Swallowing the bite of taiyaki, I spoke up, “You should join me! The food’s really good.”

“I’m not hungry,” Tomioka muttered.

You bit your lip, trying to think of how you could get to know him better, “Not even for just a bite of rice?” His deep blue eyes glanced at me, pausing before he grabbed his sword, then his eyes drifted to the food. “I really can’t eat this all by myself,” You said, hoping that would finally entice him. It seemed your persuasive skills were better than you thought (or his loneliness was finally getting the best of him).

As you both sat at the table, you found yourself rambling about your mission. The awkwardness between the both of you from before had seemed to vanish (on your end at least) as you talked to fill the silence. How the demon’s you were sent to kill had become more challenging, how the treck left you exhausted, how awkward you were around to kakushi. It got to the point of you rambling about this cute Ezo red fox you saw.

Tomioka may be a bit oblivious at times, but he had noticed this drastic change. Just last night you barely let out a peep, and now you were talking about anything and everything. He didn’t mind, no one has talked with him in such a way since…Sabito. It felt very bittersweet for him. He could only ponder on what caused your change, and he hoped that you hadn’t heard his confession last night. Especially since he found his will to be weaker than he’d like to admit.

…

Misturi was a very good listener. The way she’d dramatically gasp or watch with bated breath. You knew she was hanging on to every word you spoke. When you had finished filling her in on everything that had happened between both you and Tomioka she squealed.

“You two are so cute!” She smiled brightly, finishing another bowl of pork cutlet.

“More like we’re both awkward,” You mumbled. Picking at your food (still only on your first portion).

“He said he wanted to be your friend!” She pointed at you with her chopsticks.

“But I’m not sure how to proceed,” You complained. “Do I just keep talking his ear off about random stuff? I feel like that’ll get annoying quickly.”

“Why don’t you get him something?” She asked, sipping some tea. “Maybe that’ll open him a little.”

“Hmm,” You pondered. What would you even get him? “Maybe.”

So you had continued to think about what a reclusive water hashira may like. It didn’t help that you were in the midst of a market. Vendors resided on either side, showing off their wares to entice customers to view their stalls. You took in the sites, yet nothing really caught your eyes. That was until a vendor who was selling omamori. You were surprised to find someone selling these charms outside of a shrine, so you were a bit weary of the product, but they seemed to be made from genuinely good materials.

You perused the items, there were many different colors and intentions. Finally, you picked out a blue omamori that wishes for happiness. You didn’t really think much of it. You did, in fact, wish Tomioka happiness. The rest of your mission went smoothly, and you sent Tomioka a letter upon your arrival. In the time it took for your crow to come back, you had almost forgotten of the invite. You felt yourself waiting anxiously for the time to come, tidying up your estate even more (much to the kakushi’s dismay), making sure you had enough tea and snacks.

By the time Tomioka had arrived, you already had two cups of tea and a snack platter set out on your engawa. It was a nice warm and bright sunny day, and you might as well enjoy the scenery of the forest that surrounded your estate. You greeted him with a bright smile, coaxing him to sit down. The both of you savored the tea, sipping in silence. It was nice. Normally you’d feel pressured to say something, like you were failing at keeping the other person entertained, but at the moment you felt peaceful. Sharing a warm cup of tea on a nice day with someone you cared about.

You watched as the sun rays fell down, barely hitting the forest floor. Rabbits hopping about as insects buzzed around. You quite liked your estate, you were grateful for all that Ubuyashiki has given you. It was in a secluded area not too far from a small village. It gave you a space for yourself, but you were still close enough to society that you weren’t a hermit. You enjoyed nature as well, watching animals was one of your favorite hobbies as you discovered silly little behaviors that they would do. Though as a hashira you found yourself having less and less time to yourself.

“I have something for you,” You finally spoke up. You both had finished a cup of tea and some of the snacks were gone. You turned your gaze to Tomioka, only to meet his ocean blue eyes. You took the omamori out of your pocket and handed it to the water hashira. He hesitated before finally accepting the gift. You bit your lips, trying to suppress the giant grin that threatened to spread across your lips. A light pink dusted across his cheeks as he stared at it.

“You didn’t have to,” He replied, eyes still on the gift. “...thank you.”

“No biggie,” You waved it off. “I saw it and thought of you.” You didn’t realize what you said until you had said it. Your eyes widened, and Tomioka’s blush seemed to only intensify. Deciding that ignoring the remark was the best option, you started talking about your last mission and the market you had found that charm in. A giddy feeling overwhelmed you as you watched Tomioka pocket the charm, his gaze looking warmer than usual.

It was safe to say both you and Tomioka were quite close to each other now. You were someone he enjoyed spending time with and you loved being in his presence. The awkwardness that had initially been a part of your relationship fizzled, a warm atmosphere left in its wake. The two of you would spend time over tea, mostly at your estate, but you were proud to say you’ve spent time at his as well. Sometimes you found yourself going on walks on the trails that littered across your property, and you would point out animals you’d observed and little facts you found out about them over the years. Tomioka thought that if demons hadn’t screwed over the world, you’d have made a wonderful researcher.

The feeling of something slipping into your pocket had put you on edge. Turning your head swiftly to the side, you stared at Tomioka with wide eyes. He stared at you back, eyes wide and cheeks a light pink. He had been caught. He didn’t know what he was expecting, you were a highly skilled hashira, trained to detect the slightest thing off. Slipping your hand into your pocket, you pulled out an omamori. You felt your face flush as it was not only your favorite color, but it was an anti-evil omamori.

“Thank you, Tomioka-san,” You thanked with a bright smile. You were so busy trying to figure out how to attach the charm to the hilt of your sword, you almost missed Tomioka’s next words.

“Giyū,” He muttered, head turned away from you. You stared at him slightly in confusion until he clarified, “You can call me Giyū.”

“Thank you, Giyū-san,” You clarified, smiling so wide it felt like your cheeks hurt. “You can call me by my first name as well.” He nodded, still not facing your direction. Tugging gently at his haori, you led him to continue your walk along the trail, the day seeming a lot brighter than before.

…

“Please Giyū-san,” You pleaded, putting on your best puppy dog eyes.

He tried his hardest to not meet your gaze, feeling his resolve slowly crumbling, “I…am busy that day.”

“Pleeeeease,” You drawled out, hands clasped as you jutted out your bottom lip. “I don’t want to be stuck as a third wheel.” He had accidently met your gaze, and he felt himself fold, how could you look so cute?

“Fine.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You exclaimed, pulling him into a hug without a second thought, squeezing him tightly to try and express your gratitude. “I love Mitsuri-chan but Iguro-san scares me.” Giyū stood stiff, arms fell limply at his sides. Unsure what to do, he awkwardly patted your back before you pulled away. Your warmth that had seeped into him seemed to vanish and he immediately wished you held him for just a moment longer.

The dinner had arrived too quickly for his liking. Although he found himself wanting to spend more time with you, and he didn’t mind Kanroji, Iguro had made his distaste of the water hashira clear multiple times. He hasn’t spent time with you in the presence of others, and he was scared that you’d finally come to your senses and sever your ties with him.

He had arrived at least fifteen minutes early, which was exactly when you arrived as well. Giyū couldn’t help but stare at you in awe as he approached. You stood to the side of the restaurant that you were all to dine in. You wore a simple kimono, but he couldn’t help but find himself astounded. He thought you were ethereal in your uniform and haori, but seeing you in such casual wear had seemed to revise your beauty in another light.

You, on the other hand, felt blood drain from your face. Giyū had been the next to arrive after you, and he was wearing his uniform. Your brain had become frenzied as you wondered if you had enough time to make it back to your estate and change your clothes. You didn’t want to stand out amongst your friends.

“Wait, is everyone going to be in their uniform?” You blurted, feeling slightly dizzy at the thought. Giyū, still being stunlocked, seemed oblivious to your turmoil, shrugged. Your shoulders raised as Giyū stood next to you, waiting for the other two to join. Your brain continued to bug you for ten minutes, and only got worse upon notice of their outfits. Both in their uniforms. You felt your face flush in embarrassment, wanting to hide behind the water hashira as Mitsuri and Iguro spotted you both.

“Hi!” Misturi waved enthusiastically before gasping your name. “Your kimono is so cute!” Unconsciously, you slightly hide yourself behind Giyū, not enjoying all the eyes on you. This is exactly why you didn’t like standing out in a crowd.

“Thank you,” You muttered, hand grasping gently at Giyū’s haori. Normally, you wouldn’t have such a harsh reaction to being in such a position, but you could feel Iguro’s eyes watching your every move, judging your every decision. But you’d have to endure it, for Mitsuri’s sake.

Giyū wasn’t faring much better. He hadn’t expected you to become so shy, using him as a shield. It made him feel a bit prideful and protective, you had chosen him even though you had been friends with Kanroji for longer. Though he also felt a bit embarrassed, unsure how to react to such a situation. He had never thought someone he found attractive would look at him, let alone find comfort in him in such a way.

You all had entered the restaurant, Mitsuri trying not to squeal at the site before her. She had been trying to refrain from mentioning how your relationship with Giyū seemed to be some romantic plot from a novel she’s read. Every detail you shared with her had her blushing in excitement. She had recalled when you told her you didn’t expect to find love in this lifetime. As a demon slayer, you had little freetime, and the fact that you never knew if the day was going to be your last would loom over you until demons were eradicated. So having friends was tough, and a lover even tougher. She couldn’t be more overjoyed by the fact that you had managed to find someone even with the complications. Which led her to this master plan with Obanai, a secret double date (it would be a double date in her heart). A double date where only one person knew of it as such.

Once you all got in, you found yourself feeling more comfortable. You found yourself in a comfortable conversation with Mitsuri, both your companions silent as they eyed the other up. It was a comical site for anyone who witnessed it. Mitsuri had beat us all in the amount she consumed, a bright smile as she asked for another. The atmosphere was warm in the small restaurant, the night sky shining through the windows. You slightly felt bad for Iguro and Giyū, as they both seemed out of their element, but overall it was a fun night. It almost felt like a date due to the fact Giyū insisted on walking you home.

It didn’t take long after that night for you to realize your feelings. You were helping two lower ranked demon slayers defeat a demon. At the end of the battle they had checked in on the other, making sure they were both relatively okay before embracing. It had reminded you of how you treated Giyū, and suddenly it all came crashing down on you. You were in love with Giyū Tomioka. The two demon slayers had thanked you, as you weren’t there to help them initially. They were surprised at how kind you were towards them, remarking how they heard all the hashira’s were cold. You quickly waved them off with a slight laugh, explaining how most of you were just trying to get by like the rest of them.

You had continued to stew on your feelings, unable to think of anything else. Your mind had been so dangerously drifting off, you found yourself injured. Not gravely, thankfully, but enough for you to end up in butterfly manor.

“It’s rare to find you here,” Kochō commented as she cleaned your wound, causing you to wince. “Is something the matter? Have you finally realized the lack of heart Tomioka has?”

You frowned, unsure if unpacking your feelings to Kochō was the right play. It wasn’t due to Tomioka’s lack of heart, rather how much heart he has. Your eyes drifted to the sword leaned against the wall next to your current bed, the omamori charm dangling tauntingly.

“No,” You confessed, hands clenching as she cleaned a particularly deep wound. “It’s actually quite the opposite.”

You took slight satisfaction in the surprise Kochō’s eyes held, but her empty smile didn’t waver, “Don’t tell me he’s managed to trick you somehow.”

“No,” You once again simply answered. “It’s all my own doing.” That was true, in a sense. Of course you couldn’t control your own feelings, but it was you who pushed past Giyū’s barriers and managed to sneak your way into his heart, just as he had snuck his way into yours. Though you weren’t sure if he viewed you in such a way, and you didn’t want to push him farther than he could handle.

Without pause, Kochō took out a suture kit, threading the needle. Your eyes widened in horror. You’ve only needed stitches very few times, and the nausea you felt when a needle was presented never left. Mercifully, Kochō took out a balm and applied it to the skin around your wound.

Waiting for a few moments to let the balm numb your skin, she spoke up, “Don’t get your hopes too high with him.” It was at that moment that you realized that Kochō was looking out for you…in a passive aggressive way. Although you didn’t exactly like the way she showed this care (by insulting Giyū), you still felt touched that she even cared in the first place.

“Don’t worry,” You shrugged. “They’re never really high in the first place.” It was that moment she deemed worthy to pierce your skin.

…

You didn’t need too many stitches thankfully, but even with the numbing the process was excruciating. You were relieved when the bandages were finally applied and Kochō bid you farewell. You were sore all over, waiting for the medicine Kochō made you take to finally kick in. Not only were you sore and tired, but you felt slightly ashamed. You allowed your emotions to overtake you and get injured in battle. You were a hashira, these simple things weren’t meant to let your guard down.

You had been so absorbed in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed said water hashira entering your room. Kochō hadn’t been too surprised when she saw him stalking down the hall as she exited your room. With your previous conversation, and the bits Kanroji accidentally let slip, she had pieced together that Tomioka wasn’t all she thought he was. It was hard for her to believe that he would care about someone, but now that she witnessed the terror that shone in his blue eyes, he had even managed to surprise her.

“They’re resting,” Kochō said, a fake smile lifting the corners of her lips. “Visiting hours aren’t open for them yet.”

Giyū didn’t even pause, continuing his trek to your room. It didn’t matter that his crow had told him you were only mildly injured, or the fact that Kochō left your room (a clear indicator that you were fine), he needed to see that you were okay with his own eyes. He had lost so much already, and he surrendered himself of such attachments, not only because he didn’t deserve it, but because he didn’t want to go through that again. You had managed to brighten his days again, he looked forward to waking up, wondering if he’d get to hear you laugh that day. All the good came crashing down the second he heard of your injured state.

You were both demon slayers, hashira at that, so you were bound to face injury. Yet he couldn’t help but blame himself. For what? Even he wasn’t sure, but he felt like it was due to the fact you were close to him. Karma for being the one to always survive. So when he quietly opened the sliding door, a breath of relief passed his lips as he saw you stare out the window. The sun hit your figure, causing a warm glow to light up your features. The usual smile that was on your face had turned into a frown, eyes distant. He wasn’t sure what to do. He had accomplished his mission, he’s seen you with his own eyes and you’re breathing perfectly fine, although the bandages that littered your face tugged at his heartstrings.

“Oh, hello,” You spoke softly, snapping Giyū out of his thoughts.

“Are you okay?” He asked, internally berating himself for asking such a stupid question. Of course you aren’t okay, you're sitting in a hospital bed at butterfly manor.

“I’m fine,” You smiled slightly. “Just some small injuries. Honestly all this pampering is a little too much if you ask me.” That was a slight lie on your part. It was clearly not just small injuries, or you wouldn’t have been taken to butterfly manor. You felt bad for the poor kakushi that had to tend to your injuries enough so you wouldn’t bleed out as they carried you all the way here.

Giyū also seemed to sense your lie, his blue eyes unwavering from their intense stare. His eyes raked your body, trying to pinpoint all the injuries that littered your body. Fortunately for you, most of the injuries were hidden by your clothes and blanket. With a sigh, you patted the bed, gesturing for him to sit and join you. He did so hesitantly, ending up sitting as close to the edge as he could. You felt your mood lighten at the sight, the seriousness from before slowly dissipating.

“You can sit closer silly,” You chuckled lightly. He scooted just slightly, and you smiled at him. “Okay so maybe I needed some stitches, but that was the worst of it. Really, I’m fine.”

Giyū’s shoulders slumped, finally he seemed to be able to calm down. You were fine, truly. You were still there, still sitting by him, still smiling at him, still laughing. Your breath hitched at how intense his gaze was. You felt your face flush as he stared at you with utter adoration. You felt your own gaze soften, probably matching his own.

“It was my own fault,” You muttered, hoping to quell his worries further. “I was distracted, but that won’t happen again.” His eyebrows furrowed, the silent question in his eyes being loud enough for you to understand. Scratching your cheek, you looked away to try and hide your embarrassment. Should you just say it? Get it off your chest? Would he be weirded out?

“I was thinking about you.”

Now you both were avoiding eye contact, flustered more than you’d like to admit. He hadn’t expected that. What exactly were you thinking? Have you been thinking about him often? It left him feeling warm at the thought. For some odd reason, it made him happy.

The silence between you both grew, and you felt more anxious the longer it lasted. “Not…not in a weird way,” You defended weakly, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. Glancing up at him your eyes widened in wonder as a tiny smile pulled on the edges of his lips, red dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. If you could capture this moment, you would in a heartbeat. Deciding that now was your chance, you ripped the bandaid off.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

This time Giyū stared at you in disbelief, and you wondered if you did the wrong thing. But he had smiled earlier! The first smile you had ever seen grace his beautiful features. Perhaps you came to the wrong conclusion. Both of you stared at the other, waiting for the other to make a move. Your heart beat faster and faster the longer he stayed frozen. His entire face and neck was engulfed in a violent shade of red, and you were scared you might’ve broken him.

“You don’t have to love me back or anything,” The words quickly tumbled passed your lips. “And I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore. That’s a weird thing to confess to your friend.”

That seemed to snap him back, he looked down at his lap, trying to regain composure. He found it harder and harder to remain stoic in your presence. The emotions he repressed would always flow to the forefront when you were around, and although it could be overwhelming at times, he still welcomed the feelings. Not sure how to convey his feelings properly (he surely didn’t trust his mouth to say the right thing), he scooted a little closer to you. You watched with bated breath, unsure where he stood on your feelings (he really didn’t make it easy to read him either).

“I reciprocate your feelings,” He replied, voice wavering just slightly. You blinked, unsure if you heard him correctly. You weren’t sure what you expected, but such a formal response actually made you feel a bit better. Clearly this was new to both of you and you both weren’t sure how to go about this new territory. But that was fine, because you both could traverse it together.

…

Only a few days later, Mitsuri had managed to visit you. Giyū had refused to leave your side, assisting you with the simplest tasks. You felt bad for the girls who brought you your necessities as Giyū would watch their every move, ensuring you got all that you needed. When Mitsuri entered your room, she hadn’t expected to see the water hashira sitting next to you, let alone so close! Her green eyes took in the scenario, Giyū not meeting her gaze as he felt flustered that he was caught. You smiled brightly at the love hashira, welcoming her into the room.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” She apologized.

“It’s okay,” You waved off her concern. “Giyū-kun has been keeping me company.”

Mitsuri couldn’t hold back her squeal, the two of you clearly have grown closer, dare she say you two have a more intimate relationship. Giyū looked even more flustered, head turned away from the both of you.

“You have to tell me everything!”

#giyuu tomioka x reader #giyu tomioka x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #giyū tomioka x reader #tomioka giyuu x reader #tomioka giyū x reader #tomioka giyu x reader #demon slayer #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #giyuu tomioka #giyu tomioka #giyū tomioka #tomioka giyuu #tomioka giyu #tomioka giyū #x reader

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emmasbrain · 18 days

Text

Miscommunication (the fun kind) Part 2

This is part 2, trust when I say it makes very little sense without part 1.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Synopsis: You meet him for your date, but it’s cut a little short.

Warnings: None I can think of other than cringe writing.

A/N: This took ages man, I don’t know what happened but I just felt a block so many apologies for taking so long.

As you click the little green button, you feel unnecessarily nervous. “Hello.”

“Hi.” He replies, and the smile that graces your lips can be heard from the other end of the phone.

“Doc. I’m glad you called.” You try to play it cool, but you know he can sense your excitement anyway.

“I’m glad you asked me to. Look, I’m on my way to a case right now, but I was thinking that when I get back we could do something? Go for dinner, maybe?” He sounds as nervous as you feel, and your heart spikes a little.

“Dinner sounds great. Have you thought of a place?” You do a little spin in the living room of your small apartment and you hear chatter in the background of the call.

“There’s this little restaurant that I normally get takeout from. I know them pretty well so they’ll keep me a table on short notice. They’ve got everything so statistically there’s bound to be something you like.” The way he speaks reaches a spot in your brain, fast and passionate, even about the most mundane things.

“I know I’m gonna like it because you do, and I trust your taste.” You bite your lip, wondering if that was too much.

“You should, I’m very particular.” His voice betrays the fact that he’s grinning, and you match his expression.

“I like particular. Particular is good.” Your voice has dropped a little subconsciously, and he’s about to reply when you hear the familiar voice of Agent Hotchner alerting Spencer that they need him.

“I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you when I’m home?” You almost sigh in contentment at just the sound of him, but you snap out of it quickly to reply.

“I’ll be waiting patiently, Doc. I’ll see you.” You hang up, and stand in the middle of your living room for what seems like an hour but truly is only a few minutes. Why are you so attracted to this guy you only met a few nights ago?

But you feel as though you know him, from the way Penelope has talked about him, from the time you spent together. You feel as though you know them all.

—

You just sent in the final draft of your latest article. This one had been an absolute nightmare, being asked to write a piece on climate change. Your editors loved you for your fresh takes, but after so long there was no angle on climate change that hadn’t already been written. They seem fairly happy with it, but you can’t help the nagging feeling of wishing you could have done the proposed piece on how tourism is ruining the economy like you had wanted.

Through the annoyance of knowing you could have done better, you still feel slightly more at ease knowing the article is finished and out of your hands, and that you can relax and drink your fourth mug of coffee for the day. It’s eleven am.

But as you stand to stretch your achy muscles and make some fresh coffee, your phone rings. You know who it is before you even pick up, but make sure to check anyway just in case.

‘Spencer’ flashes on your screen, and you immediately sit down on your sofa, hitting the answer button and taking a readying breath.

“Hey Doc.” Your voice is unintentionally airy, but he doesn’t seem to notice - or he pretends not to - as he replies.

“Hey. I got back from work late last night, but I didn’t wanna call in case you were asleep. I was just wondering what you had planned for tonight?” The grogginess in his voice is evident, and it raises a question before you can even think about answering his.

“Spencer, how long ago did you wake up?” The simple question makes him go quiet for a moment before he speaks.

“I woke up just before I called you.” He sounds nervous to admit it, like he’s embarrassed to be caught thinking of you so soon into his day.

“Must have been thinking about me in your sleep then. And to answer your question, I’m free tonight.” You can’t hide the tinge of satisfaction knowing he thought about you maybe as often as you thought about him.

The small breath he sucks in doesn’t pass by you. You may not be a behavioural analyst but you are a damn good journalist, and you know what that little breath means. It says “you caught me”. Was he really thinking of you in his slumber? You note it down in the back of your head to try and slip out of him later.

“Would you like to go for dinner to that restaurant tonight?” He seems to have composed himself as he asks his question, and you try not to sound too enthusiastic as you eagerly say yes. “Okay, great- that’s great! I’ll pick you up at six… I don’t drive.” The defeat in his voice makes you laugh.

“How about I pick you up?” You suggest, calming his nerves. “You can tell me where to go.” Truthfully, you had already planned to drive him. Penelope told you once how he doesn’t drive, and you called her two days ago to reconfirm. This information, however, is not something you feel the need to tell him, because it seems a little obsessive - but you were just thinking logically of course - and you don’t want to weird him out quite so early.

He seems to be okay with the idea, and you’re thankful that he doesn’t take it as a blow to his ego like most men would. The call ends after a few short pleasantries - that are actually pleasant - and you immediately get to work.

You throw open the doors of your wardrobe and go straight to the dresses, very slowly narrowing it down to two options. A flowy red dress that you almost go with, and a simple black silk dress that ends just below your knees.

This one is for special occasions, and you deemed this a pretty special occasion. As you rummage through your box of shoes and stack of earrings trying desperately to find earrings and heels in the same colour, you come across a pair of purple strapped heels that you know you have drop earrings in a similar shade to. You just can’t find them.

Suddenly you notice that it’s 12:30 and your brain short circuits. Your entire room is thrown upside down and inside out until you find the earrings you’re looking for, and then neatly arranged back to its original state, all within thirty minutes. Now you have your little purple dewdrops and your outfit is complete, but you have four and a half hours until you need to leave and you know you’ll need it, albeit mostly to panic.

Four hours passes and you’ve showered, shaved, styled your hair and put on some light makeup. Your nail polish is just dry and you have your dress on, so you buckle your heels and stand. Twenty five minutes before you can leave. That’s not bad. You just have to wait twenty five minutes… But what if traffic is bad? You should probably leave fifteen minutes early for that, right? And if you think about it, the time between leaving your house and getting to the car wasn’t considered in the time it would take you to get there, and if you drag it out that’s a good five minutes. So really you only need to leave in five minutes. But what’s the point of waiting five minutes really? You should just leave now. Good idea.

As you park at his apartment building you realise you may have been a little over eager. The drive was ten minutes shorter than expected, so you’re around thirty minutes early. Which is embarrassing, so to speak. But you decide to head up early, a gut feeling telling you that it’ll be beneficial.

As you knock, he immediately opens the door and then a sheepish look comes over his face. “I saw you get out of your car.” He nervously rubs his hand on the back of his neck and it makes you smile. Then you take in his attire. He looks similar to when you met him in the bar, although he’s wearing white converse to match a white shirt underneath his brown suit. He’s also sporting a watch, and - most importantly - glasses. Damn those fucking glasses.

You realise you haven’t responded and are now intensely looking at his eyes, and he looks a little uncomfortable.

“Shit- sorry. I was just looking at you- I mean you look good- Great! You look great. You look… pretty. I like your glasses, do you wear them often?” Although you can feel yourself rambling into oblivion, you somehow can’t stop the flood of words that come out of your mouth.

His mouth opens for a moment as though he might speak, and then it shuts again. He stands aside to let you come in. “I never let you in.” He comments, sounding apologetic.

You shake your head in reassurance. “That’s alright, I wasn’t sure if you would even be ready since I’m so early. I never meant to be, I just kind of over thought it and now I’m here.” You wring your fingers together. Spencer noticed that you do it as a nervous habit when you met in the bar.

“I was ready an hour ago, I’ve just been reading while I waited for you. You can sit.” He motions to his sofa, and you sit next to the armrest so that you can turn and lean your back against it to face him sitting a little away from you. “You look beautiful. You remind me of a painting called ‘Madame X’, you probably know it. You could almost be a modernised retelling. Did you know that the painting caused an extreme public discourse as people thought the artist, John Singer Sargent, made the woman look deathly pale and scandalously unclothed.” He says all this with a little grin, and you can’t help but grin along with him.

The decision to tease him comes before you can truly think about it. “You think I look deathly pale and scandalously unclothed, Doc?” As the words come out of your mouth, he pales slightly.

“No, of course not! You remind me more of the principle. The woman was so beautiful she was renowned for her looks. Painters had all but begged her to do a portrait before, but she declined until she found Sargent. But even then, the people of Paris thought the painting didn’t do her beauty justice. Despite this, the painting became famous and beloved for hundreds of years around the world, and to this day is still considered a work of true historical art. A timeless beauty. That’s how I think you look.” His passion for little things shines through again, and your mouth is left slightly agape from his words.

“That was…” You can’t even think.

“A lot, I know. I tend to ramble a lot. I don’t really notice that I’m bothering people until it’s too late.” He rubs the back of his neck again, and the thought of people being bothered by him sends multiple emotions running down your spine.

You reach over and grab his hand with one of yours, the other going to touch his face. “I was going to say, that was awfully considerate of you. Never assume that you’re bothering me. Talk quite literally as much as you please, I want to know what you want to say… If we weren’t on our first date I’d readily teach you exactly how much I enjoy when you talk, but that can be saved for another time, maybe.” Your voice drops nearer the end, and he picks up on it as he sucks in a breath and nods vigorously.

“Definitely- I mean yes, sure. I will keep that in mind.” He’s still nodding as you smile at him, a proper smile.

“You’re pretty when you get flustered. You get all red, from the tops of your cheeks all the way down your neck.” You silently wonder if it goes further. You wish you could check. The hand on his face trails down his neck as you speak, emphasising what you mean.

He gets redder. How can he get redder? “Pretty. You’ve used that word on me twice now.” The comment seems to be more of an observation than a question, but you answer it as though it is one.

“I think you’re pretty. Handsome is a word I dislike. It reminds me of Ken, like Barbie and Ken. You’re not a doll, you’re a man, who just so happens to be pretty. I could call you beautiful instead, I’d say that adjective very accurately describes you too. Gorgeous, if that’s something you prefer.” You relent as the redness gets impossibly worse, and it makes you feel a little guilty. “Sorry, Doc, I just like seeing you flustered. I’ll call you handsome or something more masculine if you’re more comfortable with that.” You give him a little smile and pull your hand from his face.

He wouldn’t say it out loud but he wishes you would keep it there. He grasps your other hand tightly in his, and he shakes his head. “I don’t mind. You can call me whatever you feel like… You’re wearing purple. Purple is my favourite colour.” He looks away for a moment, and it warms your heart.

“Purple suits you, as a favourite colour I mean. Mine is green.” Your voice holds a gentleness in it that comes with caring for someone. It’s baffling. You’ve known him days. A week at most. You shouldn’t feel so… warm around him.

“Green makes sense. I think purple looks best on you though, which is definitely coming from a place of bias.” This makes you laugh, small and breathy, but he smiles at the sound.

You don’t realise how much time has passed until you hear a buzzing noise, and you both realise it’s a phone ringing. It’s coming from the other room so you assume it’s Spencer’s and he quickly gets up to answer. You can’t hear much from the wall between you, but when he comes back through looking thoroughly disappointed, you can tell it’s a work call. “Serial killers don’t stop for first dates sadly.” You remark, and he looks a little surprised.

“How did you know?” He questions, coming closer to you and you stand up to face him.

“I may not be a behavioural analyst, but I can tell what that face means. It means ‘I’m so sorry but I have to go stop murders’.” You smile to try and reassure him, but you can see the cogs whirring in his brain.

He seems to be thinking too many thoughts to process, but suddenly he dips down and kisses you. It’s short, but it’s soft, and you have a look of surprise on your face as he pulls away. “I wish we had gotten to go on our date, but I really wish that this doesn’t stop us from going on another one.” He looks at you in anticipation, and you melt.

“I wouldn’t pass it up for the world, Doc. Why don’t you go get ready and I’ll drive you there. We can plan the next one in the car.” You kiss his cheek and go to sit back down, and he shuffles away to his bedroom with a stupid smile tugging at his lips.

A/N: So… thoughts on part 3 with newly established relationship reid x reader ? Equally, thoughts on me adding smut somewhere along the line?

#criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #fem!reader

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lurkingshan · 3 months

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Phee, New, and a Masterful Misdirect

I know I already said as much, but this week drove home again how strong DFF's writing is. Because the way this show used Phee to throw us off the scent until the end game was so, so smart.

In the first four episodes, our attention was deliberately drawn to Phee. He was established as part of one of the two romantic pairings, and we were encouraged to wonder wtf was up with his relationship with Jin. We were also given many subtle hints that Phee was acting suspicious and seemed to be intentionally investigating the boys, while Tan stayed kind of vague and in the background. Tan seemed to know Phee better than the rest, and many guessed he might be helping Phee, but for the most part, the focus was on Phee.

Then as we moved into the flashback, Tan disappeared for four entire episodes, while we get a major reveal about Phee's relationship with Non and lots of time spent on its dissolution. So of course, the prevailing theory becomes that Phee is the one orchestrating this whole investigation and tormenting these boys in the woods. And the assumption is that he's doing this because of his deep love for Non, his shame for not supporting Non when everything hit the fan, and his conviction that he was done wrong. Tan is once again assumed to be helping him, though theories differed on why, with some guessing he was Non's brother and some speculating on other reasons.

But it turns out, Phee isn't running this operation at all. "Tan" is New, and he has been the driving force the entire time. It's his guilt over leaving Non alone to go abroad that motivates him to investigate, and he pulls Phee along with him.

And Phee? Well, he's not quite as broken up about Non's death as we thought. Sure, he wants to understand where Non went and why, for closure. But he doesn't seem to be carrying any huge burdens of guilt or shame, which makes sense because aside from Non's screenplay that alludes to culprits he doesn't name, he doesn't actually know the truth about Non's situation with Keng or what any of these boys did. He jumps into a romance with Jin incredibly quickly, and it's clear the attraction and his feelings are genuine even as he justifies it to New by claiming it's for the investigation. He takes Jin to the place where he asked Non to be his boyfriend, so apparently this is not something he holds sacred. The morning after he has sex with Jin, Phee is in Jin's room while he's asleep, and does not take the opportunity to investigate. Instead he moons over Jin, cuddles up to him, and instigates morning sex. He is still staring off into space smiling to himself about it until New accuses him of cheating on his brother, at which point he remembers what he's supposed to be doing, makes his excuses, and puts up walls with Jin.

And from then on, they don't seem to learn much of anything, and I suspect that Phee doesn't really want to, because he likes Jin and doesn't want to know what he did to Non. Phee, as it turns out, is just an immature high school boy who liked his boyfriend, but moved on pretty quickly once it was over. He would not be doing any of this if it wasn't for New, and it's clear his heart isn't in it. New is the one who feels deep guilt, who wants to learn what the group did to Non, and whose trauma compounds until he snaps and hatches a plan to trap them at the vacation house and dose them with hallucinogens. Phee goes along with it, but as we saw, his motive seems to be more about reconnecting with Jin before he leaves the country than actually caring about punishing these boys for what happened to Non.

What a great, nuanced little twist to this reveal. New has been the one running the show the whole time, and the show managed to keep that from us via a classic misdirect with Phee. I love that this show manages to keep finding ways to surprise us even when we have some of the picture figured out.

#dead friend forever #dff the series #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

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rubra-wav · 2 months

Note

You briefly said something in a Vox post about how he gets turned on by his partner being affectionate easily, and it's sometimes not always in private.

Can you do a post that's about having public sex with him when that happens. I am just interested in the idea of public sex/'taking care of that when it happens and how that would work with his image problem. 👉👈

[Entry #12] 'Really? Here?' : Vox x reader smut

(Drabble)

A/N I actually had a brief concept for something like this already planned as I saw that hc I had and was eyeing it off too haha

He'd never have genuine public sex, that would not make him look good and it's too risky, so this is semi-public.

Listen man, I so rarely write stuff where Vox is actually domtop because I strongly believe that dude can only bottom properly but like I'm writing this and i'm kinda 🤭😳

Cw: NSFW/18+ ONLY, gn!reader, semi-public sex, blowjob, rare instance of me writing Vox getting his way

- It had been a long damn couple of days for Vox, to say the least.

- Something had happened to the electronics system in hell after a storm, and he had been working horrendous hours for 3 days straight trying to get everything in order.

- So yeah, when he saw you for the first time in 3 days after just messaging and calling you? Needless to say, he acted up a bit.

- On the day he finally got everything done, he unfortunately had an overlord gala to attend that he couldn't turn down for public image sake.

- Not necessarily due to him needing to attend, but because if he didn't keep Valentino and Velvette in check, their reputation would be utter shit by the morning at such a prestigious event, most likely. Ironic

- And you were of course going with him to it to make sure he didn't lose his shit after not sleeping at all and just staying connected to power and a shit ton of energy drinks (He would never admit that, so he just says something about being able to bring a plus one. You, of course, catch on over the phone but don't mention it.)

- All was well initially. You two met up out front of the giant and overly ornate venue, relieved to finally see each other. (Even with the amount of paparazzi and the heavy atmosphere to perform properly in such high status company)

- You spent the night trying to keep up appearance. Keep a very argumentative Velvette in line from trying to start drama with Carmilla and herding a very drunk, barely upright Valentino out of the building so he'd stop hitting on the servers.

- It truly was a breath of relief when they both left and you two could finally actually semi enjoy the party despite the high power individuals surrounding you two with their own plus ones or family.

- It was during this time enjoying the party that you two made the mistake of actually dancing.

- You laughed quietly as Vox gripped your hand in his claw and spun you with a flourish before dipping you.

- Your heart thudded in your ears as you watched him crack his first real smile of the night seeing you react, and as he pulled you back up to rest on your feet at arms length, you pulled him close and wrapped your hands around his shoulders - practically embracing him as you gently swayed together to the orchestra playing in the background.

- You could see Vox hesitate to let you be close to him like this around the other overlords, fearing for how it made him look to be cuddled by his lover while here.

- But, despite himself, he accepted. Whether it was the drinks he'd had or the time you had spent apart, he wanted to be near you in any way, even in the public eye.

- Vox sighed, relaxing into your touch and returning the embrace, placing his hand on your lower back and pressing you against him as he leaned down to kiss you.

- You smiled against him as lips formed in place of his screen, meeting yours chastely with a slight zap as per the company.

- As much as he wanted to, it's not like he could start making out with you then and there.

- You looked up at him with half lidded eyes, a slight grin on your lips.

- "Try not to look too desperate to leave so we can be alone." You teased him.

- Vox flushed, lips curling slightly as he fought the urge to grin at you, opting to look angry at the teasing rather than showing the fact he actually liked it.

- It didn't matter. You already knew he did

- "I believe that's called projecting, doll." He spoke lowly.

- You snickered, moving your hand to gently pinch the side of his screen. "I'd be lying if I didn't say I was awaiting that as well," you smirked up at him. "It's been 3 days after all." You laughed as you watched his blush brighten, screen flickering a couple of times with quiet zaps.

- Vox breathed deeply, shutting his eyes as he furrowed his brow. "Not in public, (name)." He growled half heartedly.

- You simply hummed, leaning up to press a kiss to his screen again. Making the mistake of gently brushing your fingers over the back of his head as you gently moved your lips against his own, a strange metallic taste entering your mouth as your lips glided across each other's.

- Vox, being tired and wanting nothing more than to be touched, didn't really have the self-awareness to take a step back.

- He groaned lowly as your pointer gently grazed his ports, the gesture sending a strong stab of arousal through him alongside pooling warmth he hadn't been exactly tapped into being right up against you.

- The hand on your lower back pulled you closer against him unconsciously, pleasurable friction only worsening as he spaced out from his actions and growing arousal.

- You pulled away from the kiss, looking at him in disbelief as you could feel something hard poking against your stomach.

- Vox seemed to snap back into reality as you pulled away, looking horrified down at you as he realised the exact... 'position' you two were in. Mainly him.

- "Are you-" Vox cut you off with a shushing noise, stiffening in your embrace (in another way)

- You fight to stop from laughing loudly, but you can't stop the breathy puffs of air and quivering that you do. You watch his embarassed expression worsen as he frowns, eye automatically trying to hypnotise you as he hissed out a: "shut up."

- Which, of course, didn't work with the blue light contacts you had begun wearing a few months into your relationship.

- You felt yourself pinned closer against Vox, who seemed to be desperately trying to both compose himself and also to hide his arousal - using you. You took a deep breath, trying to stop laughing as you just knew he'd be extra pissy if you didn't take the reigns to try gtfo as fast as you could before someone noticed anything was up.

- You looked to the side. There was a doorway leading to a darkened room a few metres away that seemed abandoned.

- You tugged his quivering hand off of your lower back and pulled the coat you wore off, pushing it into his hands. "Here, hold this, darling?" You asked, gesturing to the empty door which stood open.

- The door to the next venue room shut behind you two, locked by you, and Vox immediately began cursing under his breath, pressing his glitching face into his clawed hands next to you.

- That was before he looked up at you, glaring. "How many times do I have to tell you to watch the fucking ports?!" He whisper-yelled.

- You scoffed. "I know the dude who just got a boner in the middle of a room full of overlords after dancing with me like some sort of hormonal teenager is not saying shit right now." You said, looking back at the door with slight concern.

- Vox glitched on what was assuredly a string of expletives directed at you, throwing down your coat on a nearby table and then sitting down next to it as he gripped his head trying to control himself.

- You were right, and it pissed him off. He really was overly pent up. As he calmed down slowly, he looked up again and saw you patiently waiting for him to calm down so he could properly speak again.

- "So what are you gonna do? Whack off in here?" You joked as he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

- He went to bite back at you, but then shut up for a few seconds, clearly thinking about something.

- You raised an eyebrow at him, silently looking you up and down, then watched as a grin spread across his face.

- "Get on your knees."

- Your blinked dumbly as you let out a disbelieving laugh. Ain't no way-

- "Your mouth is awfully big tonight. Maybe you should put it to use if you want to run it so much." He said - more demanded - with a raised brow.

- This motherfu- "Really?" You asked, strain clear in your voice. It was clear you weren't on board and were very much irritated that he was demanding you come suck him off right after he went ahead and blamed you for what was arguably definitely his bad.

- Vox's brow twitched, but despite his annoyance, he sucked it up and dug his claws into the table. "Please." He spat it out like it was disgusting to him.

- You slowly sighed as you watched him cringe, looking to the side as he bounced his leg in clear desperation.

- "Okay. But don't be loud." You wandered over to him, getting on your knees and placing your hands on either one of his thighs to position yourself comfortably. You heard him let out a breathless laugh above you, and looked up.

- His face was flushed and a bead of 'sweat' ran down his face with clear nervousness. "This is a terrible idea." He mumbled, lips twitching into an unsure smile.

- You raised you brow at him with a deadpan look, stopping in place.

- "Don't stop." He said. His heart was absolutely pounding with a mixture of fear, adrenaline and excitement, a dangerous mixture of emotions to feel while there was a party of some of the most high ranking people in Pentagram city in the next room.

- The music distantly echoed through the darkened, empty room. Pretty thick walls, but he wouldn't be taking any chances (or so he told himself).

- You hummed softly, knees already aching on the hard tile floor as you reached for the very obvious dent under Vox's belt, savouring the sharp inhale of breath he gave as you undid his pants.

- Pushing your hair back from your face, you deeply inhaled and then wrapped your lips around the twitching dick being arched into your face by a demon all too greedy for you to pleasure him.

- Really, it felt kind of laughable.

- This guy who constantly talked so much shit about being perfect in public - never displaying PDA, never behaving in a way that would bring shame upon yourself but particularly him - shoving his hard on into your mouth with utter desperation in the room next to an extremely prestigious event after getting a boner in public because you were dancing slightly intimately.

- Your cheeks flushed as he let out a loud groan. His head leaned back: prompting you to hit his clothed thigh to say 'shut the hell up'.

- It didn't take long before Vox was letting out stifled but still loud moans - completely ignoring your attempts to quiet him down, a clawed hand digging into your scalp to guide your mouth further onto him.

- You startled and let out a gargling whine as the toe of Vox's shoe began rubbing your clothed sex. You squinted slightly, brow furrowed as your eyes looked up at him to see his smirking face.

- "Yeah, eyes up here." He purred lowly with a chuckle, relishing the vibrations your voice made on his dick as he more firmly ground his foot against you.

- You looked back down as you began bobbing your head faster as the demon began rutting his hips excitedly into your mouth, you trying and failing to keep up with his messy pace.

- He was too far gone to give a shit as slurred praise slipped from his mouth rapidly.

- "Fucking hell you're so good. You're just perfect like this, doll." He panted.

- A fluttering warmth rocked through you at his words in combination with you grinding your hips against his shoe. It was so embarrassing and stress inducing to be in this position here, but Christ, you were turned on as well.

- You spluttered as his hips began pressing his dick too far in your mouth, the feeling of you choking seemingly only motivating him to go harder as his claw gripped your hair harder.

- This sadistic fucker. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears beading at the corner of your eyes as you were pushed down hard on his dick, hips snapping against your face. Vox let out a loud, animalistic growl, coming so deep inside your throat you didn't even taste it as you instinctively swallowed.

- The claw in your hair slowly let go as Vox panted, satisfied now, relaxing back into his seat.

- You pulled your mouth off of him with a loud pop, gasping in a deep breath of air as you could finally breathe properly.

- You stood up, looking down at him with a rather unhappy look on your face, particularly at the treatment there at the end.

- You'd be lying if this situation wasn't hot as fuck to you too, but that was beside the point-

- "Fuck." Vox huffed as he came down from his high, his hand sliding down his face, looking up at you calmly as he saw your irritated expression atop flustered cheeks.

- "Can we please go home now." You asked, fidgeting slightly. You hadn't exactly gotten your fill.

- "You want me that bad, huh?" He grinned slyly.

- Your eye twitched. "No, because we evacuated abruptly into this room and locked it, and you were moaning out like there wasn't a room full of people on the other side of the door while I blew you." You inwardly smiled as you watched his expression fall to embarrassment again as it dawned on him that he hadn't been much controlling his voice.

- You turned away, looking back at him over your shoulder. "And yes, because I want you. Let's just get the hell out of here. I want to be alone with you properly." You said.

- He laughed at that, but inwardly cursed himself. Did he really lack self-control that badly? Christ.

Masterlist

#hazbin hotel #vox #vox headcanons #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #vox smut #vox x reader smut #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut

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talaok · 10 months

Note

can you do a pedro one where you are planning your wedding and instead of you being bridezilla he’s being groomzilla. i can totally see him getting bent out of shape over everything 😂😂

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

a/n: no I did not have to look up what "getting bent out of shape" meant, what are you talking about (thank you for the really cute request)

"how do you feel?" he asked, right at the entrance

"nervous"

"Yeah" Pedro huffed out a laugh "me too"

a day from now you were gonna be married, crazy I know, but there you were, walking into a venue you had spent six whole months planning.

You didn't expect you'd have cared this much about appearances or about the reception, you always were a "family and close friends" kinda gal, but somehow, you had found yourself wanting for everything to be perfect for what you already knew was going to be the happiest day of your life.

But of course, you couldn't compare to Pedro when it came to wanting everything to fall precisely into place.

he... well he had quite literally become a groomzilla.

And it's not like he had taken many of the decisions, it was all you, hell, if you had given him control there was a high possibility you were gonna end up walking down the aisle with a country band playing in the background.

But still, if there was one thing out of place, if one person didn't do exactly what you had asked of them... oof... good luck to them.

"oh my god" you breathed, looking around the room

"wow" he joined in your fascination.

"This is amazing" A giggle fled your throat.

It really was.

everything was exactly how you had envisioned it.

The tablecloths, the mahogany chairs, the subtle but still awfully pretty centerpieces, the handwritten menus...

It was just perfect.

"Well it was all you sweetheart" he smiled, taking your hand in his and kissing the crown of your head

"with your help" you added

"Of course" his face brightened as he chuckled "Imagine if hadn't picked this color for the napkins" he joked

"well, they are very pretty napkins..."

"thank you" he gave you a small bow, stifling a grin.

"So is everything right?" he asked, looking around even though he didn't really have a clear idea of how it should have even looked like.

"yeah I-" you stopped yourself, your glance falling to the flowers adorning the bottom of each table "Oh" you frowned

"what?"

there it was, the -who the fuck fucked up?- tone, planning a wedding had for some reason stemmed from him

"I just-" you glanced at him "don't worry it's nothing"

"no baby, tell me, what's wrong?"

"I just- I ordered purple lilies, not white" you pointed to the mishap.

He followed your finger and with a tick of his jaw and a frown of his forehead, the same Pedro that had caused the "chair accident" was back.

Now, your whole friend group had been calling it that since you told them about it, but the "chair accident", or if you'd like - the time you had to make him wait outside the store because he was getting way too angry at the guy when he had told you he couldn't get the chairs you wanted in time- was just one of the many "incidents" he would have caused along the way.

Pedro wanted everything to be perfect, and the truth be told, he didn't want so for himself, no, he wanted everything to be like you wanted it to, he wanted everything to be perfect for you.

So with time, you had gotten quite good at analyzing and realizing when that part of him was surfacing again, as if he was a non-fully tamed tiger and you, his tamer.

"we gotta call the guy" he started

"they can't change them in just a da-"

"who gets something like this wrong? there's a big difference between white and purple, how did we get the only colorblind florist in the world!?"

"baby" you snorted "it's really not that important"

"yes it is, You wanted purple lilies and we didn't get purple lilies, that's a problem in my book" he shook his head, already pulling out his phone " I'm gonna call him right now and-"

"Pedro," you took a step to close the gap between you and place a hand on his chest soothingly "I promise you, baby, it is not a big deal. I like them white too"

"Are you just saying that just so that I won't make a scene?"

"maybe..." you smiled "but also because it's the truth"

He tilted his head, not fully convinced

"I love them" You leaned up to come face-to-face with him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck "I promise"

"you're trying to distract me"

"is it working?" you laughed softly

"Yes. Yes, it is" he confessed, forgetting all about the flowers the moment his lips met with yours.

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witchslove · 2 years

Note

okay so i’ve got a request for stepmom!wanda x reader 🤭

maybe wanda seducing/the other way around or just like kinda dark!stepmom!wanda making reader lay on her chest and eventually suck her nipples when they’re upset or maybe stressed over school (because you know… lactation kink)

and yeah, lots of mommy kink 😵‍💫🤭

Stress Relief

Pairing: Stepmom!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Whenever you're overwhelmed, your loving stepmom is there to make it better.

Warnings: 18+ nsfw content; dark!stepmom!wanda, slight dubcon, mommy kink, lactation kink, praise kink, legal age gap, cheating, manipulation

A/N: Thank you for the request, this one kinda got away from me so I hope you enjoy! This is my first time writing stepmom Wanda and I love her so much already <3

–––––––––––––

You always felt so relaxed in Wanda’s presence.

With her hand in your hair, long delicate fingers stroking your scalp, and your head resting on her soft chest, you felt safe.

Deadlines were kicking your ass and you were more stressed than you’d ever been, your second year at university proving to be much more vigorous than your first. Wanda practically had to drag you out of your room to watch a movie with her, not taking no as an answer despite you trying to explain how behind you were on your assignments.

She’d had enough of seeing you work yourself nearly to death, staying up half the night and accidentally skipping meals, too focused on your academics. She wasn’t mad at you for it, in fact, she admired your work ethic. You were ambitious and a perfectionist, so eager to please.

Always such a good girl.

And good girls deserved rewards. So she’d demanded that you take a break and join her in her room for a movie.

Technically she wasn’t lying; there was a movie playing in the background as she played absentmindedly with your hair. But that wasn’t the real reason she’d invited you into her bed.

About twenty minutes into the movie, she decided to put her plan into motion.

Her sweet touches and warm body molded into yours as you cuddled were enough to have you instantly relaxing into her. Right where she wanted you.

Ever since she’d met you, she thought you were a precious little thing - so sweet, so smart, so willing to help her whenever she needed it. She planned to see just how far she could push that last one.

The first time she laid eyes on you, she thought you were adorable. She felt an instant attraction to you and, luckily for her, your father made his presence around the house scarce for work reasons, leaving the two of you alone quite often.

For months she played the motherly role in your life. She made dinner, asked you about school, offered to help you with your homework, and spent time with you as much as you wanted.

Really as much as she wanted, but whatever she wanted she knew she could make you want even more. She was so good at it that most of the time whatever she wanted seemed like it was your idea in the first place and Wanda loved the fact her sweet girl was so oblivious to her intentions.

She touched you as much as possible, whether it was her hands on your waist as she moved past you, her fingertips tracing patterns into your exposed thigh during dinner, or having you curl up into her side when you watched movies. She didn’t miss the way you would always melt into her touch, knowing she had you wrapped around her finger as much as you did her.

As the movie played in the background, she tightened her grip in your hair, prompting you to lift your head the slightest bit. Before you could turn to ask if she needed to readjust, she’d already pulled down the top of her skimpy nightgown, exposing her full breasts and already hardened nipples.

When you looked at her, your eyes fell to her bare chest for a moment before you squeezed them shut and tried to cover them. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to look,” you apologized frantically. “I- I didn’t know.”

“Shh, it’s okay, moya lyubov,” Wanda cooed, removing your hand from where it covered your eyes and placing her hands on your cheeks. “You want to look, don’t you?”

Her words shocked you, making you open your eyes and meet her tender gaze. “I- I’m confused,” you mumbled, trying to read her expression for even a hint at what was happening. All you saw was adoration and a twinkle in her eyes, so alluring that you had to look away.

When you did, you were staring directly at her breasts. You knew it was wrong, but you felt your mouth begin to water at the sight of them and heat building somewhere much lower. Subconsciously, you licked your lips and Wanda smirked when she noticed. This was too easy.

“I actually think you want to do more than just look, right, detka?” she asked, setting the trap, knowing you would take the bait.

“What do you mean?” you swallowed, unsure of where to look as your eyes flitted between her face and her chest.

“I think you know what I mean, sweetheart. Go ahead, you can touch,” she said sweetly, framing her words just right to make it seem like you’d just asked her yourself if you could touch her.

When you nervously brought a hand up to cup the weight of her breast, she smiled reassuringly. You didn’t notice the smugness behind her smile as you refocused your attention below her neck.

She bit her lip to stifle a moan when your thumb brushed against her straining nipple. She arched her back the slightest bit, pushing her chest closer to your face, your breath hitching in your throat at the action.

“Can I- can I use my mouth?” you asked, your voice almost a whisper.

Wanda had never been more pleased with herself than in that moment. She hadn’t quite expected you to be so bold and ask for such a thing so quickly. She was both proud of herself and proud of you, always so compliant, always so good for her.

“Yes, angel, you can use your mouth.”

When your lips wrapped around her nipple, she bit back a whine at the sensation of your warm mouth around her sensitive bud. You latched on, suckling contentedly and laving your tongue around the stiff peak.

You were surprised when you felt warm, sweet liquid drip into your mouth. You had no idea Wanda could do this, but you couldn’t complain. The first taste of her milk had you hooked immediately, moaning as more spilled onto your waiting tongue.

“You’re doing so good drinking mommy’s milk baby,” Wanda said breathily.

Her words sent a shock straight to your core and you moaned against her flushed skin.

“Oh, someone likes that, hm?”

You were too far gone to respond, your eyelids growing heavy as her breast emptied. You switched to the other one, sucking softer and slower this time, wanting to make it last.

Her fingers threaded through your hair, moving in a steady rhythm matching that of your tongue along the underside of her nipple.

You fell asleep that way, with your mouth on her breast, her hand in your hair, and a smile on your face. It was the best sleep you’d gotten in months.

What happened that night became a routine shortly after. Whenever you were buried deep in research papers and exam flashcards, eyes burning from countless hours of studying, Wanda would be your saving grace. Your stepmom would poke her head into your room, encouraging you to take a break, and you’d wind up laying against her chest with one of her pretty nipples in your mouth and her sweet milk trickling down your throat.

Sometimes she enjoyed messing with you. In her mind, toys were meant to be played with.

One night, she’d asked you if you wanted to watch something with her and when you agreed, she put on your favorite show. It always gave you butterflies when she remembered what you liked to watch, but how could she not? You were the apple of her eye whether you knew it or not.

You expected her to solicit you into sucking her dry, like always, but she didn’t, leaving you feeling lost and confused. You hadn’t realized how much you began to rely on that as a way to de-stress until she wasn’t willingly offering it to you.

She wanted you to ask her for it yourself, to show her that you wanted her. You weren’t sure how to ask for something like that - it still felt wrong to you despite her constant reassurances that it was normal for mommies to take care of their precious angels that way.

Instead of voicing what you wanted, you nuzzled your face against her breasts, hoping she would understand.

“Aw, do you want something sweetheart?” she asked, feigning sympathy so you wouldn’t be able to tell how much she was getting off on your desperation.

“Please,” you mumbled.

“Please what? You have to tell me what you want or I won’t know how to help,” she replied tenderly.

“Can I…” you paused, not knowing how to phrase it. “Taste you? I mean like… are they full?” you asked, glancing down at her chest before meeting her eyes again, her curious look intimidating you by the second until you were unraveling. “I’m sorry, actually, I don’t know why I��m asking you that, I-”

She cut you off with a firm hand grabbing your jaw, silencing you. Her thumb came up to brush against your bottom lip, the sight of you so needy for her making her shiver.

“Of course you can, detka. All you had to do was ask.” And with that she was removing her top and pulling you close, smirking to herself as you latched on and fell asleep in her hold, all of your worries forgotten for the night.

One night, she invited you to go swimming with her, neglecting to mention that she wasn’t wearing a bathing suit under her robe and letting you find that out for yourself when she stood bare before you on the patio. She swayed her hips purposefully as she walked over to the pool, making sure to bend over and give you a delicious view as she stepped into the water.

Unable to get the vivid image of her perfect backside out of your mind, you shook your head and slowly undressed. You, unlike her, had worn a bathing suit and you decided to keep it on as your nerves followed you to the pool.

Sitting on the steps, she welcomed you in, not hesitating to pull you close to her body. With your head leaning against her arm, so close to where you longed to bury your face, you looked up at her and she simply nodded.

Your hot mouth felt amazing against her nipple, cold from the water and the nighttime air. She hummed as you ran your tongue over the bud, trying to stimulate it enough to get your reward. When nothing came out, you sucked harder, your teeth grazing her sensitive flesh and causing her to whimper.

You quickly pulled away. “Sorry,” you blurted out, your eyes wide.

“It’s okay, sweet girl. It felt good,” Wanda cooed, bringing one hand to the back of your head and the other to your hand under the water. She gently pulled your head back to her chest while moving your hand towards her aching center. “Sometimes when you drink mommy’s milk, it makes her feel tingly down here,” she explained, pressing your fingers against her pussy.

You felt the heat radiating from her core, warm and wet with something that wasn’t just the water from the pool. She guided your fingers to slide through her slick folds and you moaned against her breast at the feel of her.

That seemed to sober you up and you pulled back for a moment to speak. “This isn’t right, we’re not supposed to-”

“Quiet, detka,” she snapped coldly. “I told you I’ll always take care of you and do what’s best for you, didn’t I?” You nodded and she softened at that. “That’s right. Don’t you want to make your mommy feel good? It hurts down there.”

You nodded again, murmuring out a “yes mommy” and kissing around her breasts apologetically.

“Good girl,” she praised, making you clench your thighs together.

That night, you filled her up with your fingers while she filled you up with her milk. She came hard against the wall of the pool and you felt pride welling up within you at the beautiful sight of her in ecstasy. When you grew sleepy, she helped you inside, taking you to her room where you fell asleep on her chest.

She looked down at you fondly, knowing without a doubt that she loved you more dearly than she’d ever loved anything in her life. The love she had for your father didn’t even come close to the way she felt about you. Her heart felt whole with the knowledge that you loved her just as much, all on your own.

She may have had to coax it out of you, but flowers don’t grow where seeds aren’t planted. And in her garden, you were her favorite flower.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff imagine #stepmom!wanda maximoff #alexa writes #kinktober

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factual-fantasy · 10 months

Text

Happy 1st Birthday Jangles!!

This post was originally going to be a humongous comic filled with lore, goofs, and even a bit of angst? 👀 And then have a funny/wholesome ending. Just like Bibi’s birthday comic.

But.. I ran into a problem. I didn’t know what to get for Jangles.

For Bibi’s present it was obvious what to get him. He wanted a real friend. Bringing Jangles to life was perfect and really tied the whole comic together.

But Jangles? What does he want?

I wracked my brain for days. And when I finally thought of an idea? I only had 8 days left to make it happen. Sketch the comic out on paper, sketch it again in digital, line it, color it, backgrounds, dialogue.. I also had to make the actual present so that its picture could be used in the comic. All while having a very busy schedule for this week AND while working on Moon Malfunction..

I thought I could pull it off. So I got to sketching right away.

The comic would start with me in a big black blob. Locking myself away to try and get this project done as fast as possible. You know, like a total drama queen XD

Bibi and Jangles break in, and Bibi tries to talk to me but I ignore him. Meanwhile Jangles goes over to this goopy present by the wall. The present has a tag with Jangles name on it. As he goes to open it I do a spoopy jump scare and tell him not to. Jangles and I then proceed to go back and fourth. “Why not?” Because its not good enough yet. “I’m sure its fine, what is it? What’s it for?” I cant tell you what its for because its not that day yet. “What is that day? And why cant we know about it?” “BECAUSE, its a S E C R E T-”

Bibi then says I need a break. I tell him I cant because I’m running out of time. I tell him that it needs to be posted on a specific day and that it has to be perfect but I don’t know what to do..

Jangles then deadpans “Its my birthday isn’t it?”

“...Yes. It is.”

“Okay? So what? I get wanting to post it on the day. But why all this pressure for the perfect gift?”

I explain that Bibi got a big special comic for his birthday. It had all the bells and whistles and it had the perfect gift. Jangles. And I wanted to do the same for him. I explained that the problem though was I haven’t really written enough of Jangles character to know what he would want.. I then wrote for Jangles response to be,

“Well what I dont want is you stressing yourself out over me.”

..I stopped sketching the comic at that point. I realized that I was stressing myself out way too much over this comic. It was 1 in the morning at that point. I was already pushing myself so hard to get this done on time and make it perfect that all the fun was just zapped right out of it.

But I still worried a bit. I care about Jangles as my character and I wanted to do something cool for him. I wanted to post this at midnight on the dot, but that would require me to stay up until then when I’m still wiped out from the day before.. I also still wanted to get him a cool present.. But again I figured Jangles wouldn’t want me to stress over this “big comic” and “special gift” stuff. So I just settled for a break.

This entire post was prepared early, and posted when ever I was awake enough to post it. All the days beforehand I spent just taking my time with Moon Malfunction and focusing on my schedule. And on the day I’m posting it, I plan to draw nothing. Just relax and take a break from everything. I’ll get back around to all my projects tomorrow.

I think a post with minimal effort and day of no Tumblr, is probably exactly what Jangles would have wanted. So Happy Birthday Jangles! And thanks for the day off! XD

#bibi and jangles #my original stuff #Happy Birthday Jangles!

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wnobin · 4 months

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NO BUNNY BUT YOU! 🐰

petsitter! wonbin x fem! reader

series synopsis: your friends refuse to look after your bunnies, tokki and dokki, while you’re on an overseas programme for a week. luckily, winter knows the right person for the job.

series masterlist

part eleven: one less lonely girl guy

you had already planned it all out, you knew the dorms would be mostly empty this week as everyone was on break and would be going home. you were finally going to confess to wonbin and decided that it was best that nobody else saw what you were about to do.

you had spent the past 2 days racking your brain on what to do to make this confession your best, even asking winter what wonbin’s favourite song used to be back then. you didn’t take wonbin to be a justin bieber fan, but you weren’t surprised. thank god wonbin was a belieber, it made things so much easier. the past day was spent making a poster that was decorated with blue glitter and little heart and star stickers pasted around. it took you half a day but you were proud of your work. you had gone to sleep that night with a racing heart, anxious about how the next day would go.

god if he rejects me because of this i’ll have to drop out and continue college overseas.

you showed up to his dorm in the afternoon, knowing it would be the most empty then with students going out. you left your dorm carrying a rather large poster and your phone in your hand only to be caught by winter, who was coincidentally leaving to get lunch with karina at the same time. “oh hey y/n! what’s that you’re holding?” you hid the rolled up poster behind your back, awkwardly giggling as you waved at them. “oh this? it’s nothing, just something for a project!” winter raised her eyebrow at you, not believing you at all but deciding to let it go, saying goodbye to you as she and karina took their leave.

you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding as you made your way to wonbin’s dorm, considering turning back and scratching your plans altogether. maybe you should’ve come up with something less embarrassing. before you could change your mind, the door to wonbin’s dorm opened. he was about to take out the trash and saw you standing in front of him while holding a rolled up piece of paper. “hey y/n! i was just about to throw this out. what’s that?” he motioned to your poster and you knew it was too late to back down.

you gulped and placed your palm against wonbin’s chest, pushing him back inside his dorm so you wouldn’t have to confess to him out in his hallway. you pressed play on the song you had set up on your phone, one less lonely girl by justin bieber, as you unveiled your poster to a very confused looking wonbin. he had that signature blank look behind his eyes as he tried to process what was happening, his eyes scanning the words on the poster.

i may not be justin bieber but can i make you one less lonely girl guy?

wonbin stared at the poster for what seemed like forever, his mouth occasionally opening as if to say something, but he would close it, at a loss of words. he eventually covered his mouth but his widened eyes said everything he wasn’t actually saying. you were ready to roll up your poster again, feeling embarrassed at the lack of response.

just then, you could hear the footsteps of people behind you and the sound of a group of guys chattering. you turned your head only to be met by wonbin’s friends, one of them holding his phone up and recording. when you and anton made eye contact, you froze as his mouth dropped open. the other two guys with him stopped in their tracks as well, not blinking as they read the words on your poster. all five of you stood there not saying a word with justin bieber still playing in the background. without a word, wonbin held your arm and pulled you in and closed the door behind you, not even acknowledging his friends’ shocked expressions.

“i- i’m sorry, i don’t know what they’re going here.” wonbin finally broke the silence and looked at your face instead of the poster this time, his gaze on you soft and loving. “you did this for me?”

“yeah, i did. do you hate it? i’m sorry—” you could barely get your panicked apology out before being engulfed in a tight hug by wonbin, your bones almost getting crushed. “are you crazy? how could i hate it? this is the sweetest, and silliest, gesture anyone has ever done for me. i’m just disappointed that—”

“you’re disappointed? oh god.”

“you idiot, let me finish,” he flicked your forehead playfully as you winced, over exaggerating your pain. “i meant, i’m just disappointed that i didn’t get the chance to confess first. and also disappointed that i didn’t think of something as cool as you.” that caught you off guard. you didn’t know wonbin was planning to confess too. you gave him a look that prompted him to elaborate further. “it’s not much but i was planning to ask you to be mine by making us matching bracelets…” he trailed off, getting shy all of a sudden.

she must think it’s so lame, i don’t know if she even likes bracelets, i’ve never even seen her wear one.

wonbin’s overthinking was cut off by your squeal, a large grin spreading across your face as you held onto his hands, jumping up and down in joy. “you made us matching bracelets?!” he nodded sheepishly, muttering out that it’s not perfect yet. “nonsense! anything you touch is perfect to me, wonbin.” he couldn’t help but to place his hands on your cheeks, gently cupping your face and giving you no choice but to look up into his eyes. “you’re perfect to me.”

“i like you. like, a lot. iwannabeyours, wonbin.” you blurted out your rushed confession, heat rising to your cheeks. wonbin gently rubbed his thumb on your burning cheek, smiling softly at you.

“be mine, please.”

the distance between the both of you were so close that you could feel his warm breathing on your skin. before anything could happen, you were interrupted by the sound of shuffling feet outside the door, reminded that wonbin’s friends were still eavesdropping outside. wonbin groaned and swung the door open, revealing a stumbling sohee who clearly had his ear pressed against the door. he giggled awkwardly, apologising as anton and seunghan dragged him away, waving goodbye to the both of you as wonbin closed the door.

“so… the bracelets. can i see them?”

“my girl can see whatever she wants.”

a/n: thank you all so much for the support on this series that i came up with at literally 9am in the morning! i really appreciate all the nice comments and asks 🥹 i’ll be releasing an anton smau next so do check it out 🫶

taglist: @istphanie @snowyseungs @nyuoqi @myizhous @jhskluv @babigriin @revehosh @acidwon @fourthirtyone-am @jiaant11 @bimbobunnii @lilacarat @sanctify-mp3 @mmsriza @llearlert @yangasm @thatissotoxic @quilevyt @hibernatinghamster @j1ho0n @hiraarri @annswwa @ilovejungwonandhaechan @dutifullyannoyingfox @miyawakiblossoms

#riize x reader #riize #riize fluff #riize imagines #park wonbin #riize smau #riize wonbin #riize wonbin x reader #wonbin fluff #wonbin imagines #wonbin smau #wonbin x reader #wonbin

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leossmoonn · 6 months

Text

dilf | mike schmidt

summary - mike as a dad

warnings / includes - reader is fem. otherwise fluff :D (also there’s so much background and plot like sorry not sorry lol I really like to ramble)

————

if there’s another fnaf movie… mike needs to be a dad. i know that’s not the plot at all and wouldn’t make sense, but i think the box office would benefit from that!

mike is already kind of a dad. he’s been raising abby for a few years now. he wouldn’t consider himself any type of caregiver because well, he thinks he’s quite terrible. and the term ‘brother’ is so much less daunting than ‘dad’. so when you two found out you were pregnant, he felt more fear than excitement. it wasn’t a surprise really. you two hadn’t been using condoms as regularly, but he was more stunned that now he was going to be a father and he was terrified.

regardless of how he felt, he supported you in every way possible during pregnancy. he was literally perfect. dude did the bare minimum and more! every day he would ask what you wanted to eat each day, no matter how weird the cravings were, and he would try his best to honor them. he gave you massages, went on walks with you, talked to the baby, went on doctor appointments with you — he even scheduled extra ones when you weren’t feeling well because he was so scared of you or the baby dying or something.

and after the whole freddy’s pizzeria fiasco — glad you weren’t pregnant during that lmao — he was able to get a job as a sales associate and become a manager with the help of him taking some online college courses. (you definitely helped with convincing him he was good enough to go back). abby was making new friends at her school and even helping you out when you were pregnant: making desserts for you, giving you advice on baby clothes, already making plans with the baby to play house or dress up. things were looking up.

until you give birth.

now, as we mentioned, mikey poo was a little nervous when he found out you were pregnant. and things went so well with your pregnancy, he kind of forgot to think about what it was actually going to be like when the baby was here. he was about to shit his pants fr while you were giving birth. but then they put the baby in your arms and everything just came together for him. cliché to say, i know, but it’s real!!!! and god, when he finally got to hold his baby, he was wrapped around her little finger. (i’d like to think he’s a girl dad — we already kind of see that with abby). she has mike’s big brown eyes and your cute nose. she looks exactly like a mix between the two of you.

for the first few months, mike was more focused on you than the baby. don’t get me wrong! he’s great father, but he just had that mindset that everyone wanted to take care of the baby: your parents, vanessa, even abby, but nobody was taking care of you. (doesn’t that just make your ovaries scream??) so he made it his mission to help you out with everything he could, on top of the baby, which he absolutely didn’t mind. lowk, mike is a house wife.

in the night, you two would trade shifts for the baby. there were times where he knew you were so tired from breastfeeding and just taking care of the baby during the day in general — he had to work full time still to be able to provide for you guys — that he would take full night shifts and let you sleep. it was basically like working at freddy’s so….

when you started going back to work, mike would make sure the laundry was done, house was always clean, each meal was made, abby got to one place or another. of course, he spent as much time taking care of the baby as he did with other things, but you were just under so much stress and he felt as though the best thing he could do for you was take most of the mental load. soon you became accustomed with being a mom and soon your workloads were basically evenly split.

okay enough of the background.

mike loves playing with the baby. sooo crazy, right? lol. he loves doing tummy time with her, playing peek-a-boo, talking in funny voices. he also loved picking out outfits for her, even though he actually has no sense of fashion and you quickly banned him from buying anything in the store. i think his favorite thing to do with his baby girl is making her laugh. ugh! baby laughs are so cute in general, and it just made his whole world. unlike everyone in the world, besides you and sometimes abby, no one really liked mike. well, no one gave him a chance and to be fair, he didn’t really let them. it wasn’t until he met you where we felt complete and whole and happy and not afraid of risks. and it wasn’t until the baby where he felt a true sense of purpose and he was happy with how his life turned out.

his absolute favorite sight in the world is seeing you, abby, and the baby play. the house has never been filled with as much joy as it is when y’all are playing. everyone’s giggling, teasing each other, fawning over the baby. its literally like the perfect family he never got to have :,).

he also absolutely adores you as a mom. he thinks you are the best mom ever. and of course he should think that anyways, but he believes it with his whole being. being a first time mom, you were nervous of course. but in the first month, all you did was berate yourself for not being a good mom and not knowing your baby’s needs, but with mike’s reassurance and time, you gained more and more confidence.

when the baby starts going to daycare, mike is actually terrified. he starts to look for jobs he can do at home because he’s so scared that what happened with garrett is going to happen to his baby. but with multiple background checks, questions, lowk spying, he tries to trust the daycare center you two choose.

random note before i stop talking. mike is a sleepy guy and so is the baby. the two often nap together with the baby on top of his stomach. AH. looks so cute. sometimes his hand is on her head or back, or her little fingers are wrapped around his thumb. you have countless of pictures of them in this one situation. i’d like to think mike doesn’t really sleep when the baby is on his stomach because he’s afraid she’s gonna fall or he will roll over, but he stays as calm and quiet as he can so she can rest.

#this is so long #I have so much more to say #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf #fnaf x reader

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flamingo-writes · 11 months

Note

What would you think if Hobie asks reader to cut the ends of his hair that bother him because of the mask and while she was doing it, she sang a nice song to him, meanwhile some little flowers began to bloom around them.

Really like the last post and this came to my mind immediately.

Listen, I’ve been daydreaming of this the entire day. I think this idea was very cute!

Also, little disclaimer: I was born and raised in Mexico, so, I’m very unfamiliar with how black people’s hair works. I know culturally it has a lot of importance, but other than that I knew very little of the different types of hair and ofc the insane variety of treatments and proper care as well as the different ways to give maintenance to different kinds of dreads. Also, as someone who has had very short hair for 2/3 of my life, as well as shaving my own head for the better part of the last 4 (5?) years, in general hair care and routines are something I’m wildly unfamiliar with, the longest I had my hair in the latest years was a 6 inch or so Mohawk I grew two years ago. Hobie has been a very good opportunity for me to educate myself a lot in hair (especially black people’s hair) and I spent a good portion of my evening watching videos/TikTok’s and reading on dreadlocks and their maintenance. If I wrote something inaccurate or wrong, please let me know, help me see my mistake, and I will fix it as soon as I can.

This came from this other request, I’m thinking of turning into a series.

Flower Bed — Hobie x Reader

Also, you said little flowers, but my brain decided to go for a full flower bed 😭 I hope you like this!

Warnings: none.

“Oí, luv…” Hobie said walking out of the bedroom, looking around you.

“Bathroom!” You shouted as he followed your voice, noticing the bathroom door opened and you kneeling by the shower.

Plants cramped in the shower as you watered them.

“Oh, never mind, you’re busy” He said.

“I’m almost done. I just need to water the ones in the kitchen sink and the monsteras…” You said as you’d todo up and stretched your back. “I’ll be done in ten minutes, what’s up?”

“I wanted to ask you if you could help me trim my hair, it’s starting to get long and gets stuck in the mask and, you know…” He asked softly. “But I can’t see the back of my head,”

“Sure, I’ll help you,” You said giving Hobie a kind smile.

He smiled back, walking up to you and kissing your forehead.

“Need help with the plants?”

“As you wish,” You replied happily. “You were asleep earlier and didn’t want to wake you, so I started watering them on my own…”

“I’m awake now,” He said. “I’ll water the monsteras,”

“Thank you, babe,” You purred.

By the time you were done with the plants, you went ahead and started helping Hobie out. You sat on the edge of your bed, as he sat on the floor. Since Hobie was tall, this was the most comfortable arrangement. It wasn’t also the first time you trimmed his wicks. He asked you to help him every few months.

As you put some soft music in the background, you got started, trimming dread by dread. Taking care to cut the hair while keeping the end of the dread rounded. Cutting just across each wick was already hard as they were thick, but you also wanted to keep them looking nice and rounded. Which was also a reason why Hobie asked you for help. You did a much better job at it than him.

Even when he didn’t admit it, or didn’t look like it, every single detail in his appearance was planned. Especially his hair. He liked taking care of it, and over all treated his hair like this very intimate thing, he hated having other people touching his hair. Except you. He actually loved it when you touched his hair, ran your hands through it, your fingers disappearing between the dreads. And the particular care and dedication which which you seemed to tend to every wick.

Deep in your concentration, watching over the little details, you were unconsciously singing. Something you also did quite a lot. When you were deeply focused on something, you’d start humming and eventually singing. Which only added to the relaxing time Hobie was having.

Between your gentle hands running through his hair, and now the soft sound of your voice singing in a low voice, going along with the music. Hobie lived for these little peaceful moments, making him feel absolutely contempt with his life. These little moments were everything to him.

As he had his eyes closed, focusing on every brought of your touch against him, he didn’t notice at first the plants growing around you.

It wasn’t plain on obvious. In fact, Hobie didn’t notice until he felt something tickling his elbows. He opened his eyes and saw flowers growing out of the floor, tiny plants growing buds and flowering. All in a matter of several seconds. And you continue to sing, concentrated. He blinked several times, wondering if you were aware of what you were doing, as he kept staring at the flowers growing and multiplying, coming out of the wooden floor tiles.

“Uh, luv?” Hobie asked in a low deep voice.

“Hm?” You hummed, answering Hobie’s question, sounding way too focused in your job as you were rounding one of the last wicks.

“Are you aware of the fact that you pretty much brought spring into our bedroom?”

“Huh?” You asked confused, breaking your hyper focus and looked around, noticing the flowers covering almost the entirety of your floor. White, red, lilac, and pink flowers, extending across your small bedroom. “Fuck,”

Hobie laughed softly.

“You didn’t notice?”

“N-no…” You whispered softly.

“That’s amazing…” Hobie sighed. “It’s beautiful, by the way…”

“The thing is I don’t know how to…un-grow them…And they’re a lot…” You said softly, the concern building in your voice, making Hobie chuckle. “What are we going to do with all of them?”

“We can always collect them and sell them or whatever, you know?” Hobie chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…”

“In the meantime, we can always enjoy this beautiful scene, what do you say?”

“You’re way too calm for someone who has his bedroom full of flowers…”

“You made them. They’re beautiful. I don’t see the issue, basically a work of art,” He said looking at you over his shoulder, as you rolled your eyes playfully at him.

“Hobie, pollen give you allergies,”

“Sleeping on a flower bed one night isn’t going to kill me,” He pointed out. “Besides, ever since the spider thing, I get less allergies from flowers,” He said lifting a finger up, making you chuckle.

“Fine! You win this argument!” You chuckled.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, I love you too”

“That’s why I don’t mind the flowers. Because you made them,”

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Hobie’s cheek before you continued tending to the last two wicks.

“Thank you,” You said.

“For what?”

“Being you,” You sighed. “I’m not precisely fascinated with all the flowers in the bedroom, but the fact that you are, makes me feel better”

“Why, you’re welcome, sweet’eart. Thank you for helping me with my hair,” He said looking at you and giving you a cheeky smirk.

“Anytime,”

#hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie fanfic #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown headcanons #hobie x you #hobie x y/n

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violetasteracademic · 1 month

Text

My Two Cents on the People Magazine Article (and Elriel coming home!)

I'm sure this has already been dissected to death and I am potentially late to the game here (I only just saw the article this morning!) but I would like to share some thoughts and insight!

While by no means am I saying this to claim I am *the* expert of all experts, I would like to share that my background and previous career was in entertainment. My twenties were spent in Los Angeles, and (some of you other current or previous LA/New Yorker's may identify with this) you really learn how the sausage gets made and exactly how much money, planning, and prep goes into what we are meant to perceive as "natural." I don't mean to take the shine off of it! Just sharing my experiences. I can't share everything because some of my friends were under NDA's at the time of their employment, so I'll just give a brief overview.

Example: Late Night talk shows and many other major "live" productions that have "live" interviews are, well, not actually live. They typically film in the early afternoon even if they are set designed to look like its nighttime. And while it is in front of a "live" audience, the audience is instructed on when to clap, when to laugh, ect. This is because the interview has already been planned out, and questions approved ahead of time. This is why, even though it seems totally fresh, there are things the "host" received ahead of time. For example, all of the baby pictures and sweet photos of Sarah and Josh and then all of the staged "walking and talking photos" for the MASSIVE Today Show interview and article. And yes, this is the article where we got this absolute banger:

That "felt" like a live interview followed up with a giant article to accompany it, but was actually a full on pre-planned production. Seriously massive for Sarah. And if there's time, you can even do multiple takes and use the best shot for the "live" show. I've seen people comment on thinking Sarah seemed "not excited" in that interview and she was worried HoFaS would bomb, but I'm telling you guys, I don't think she has ever that much pressure or "lights, camera, action" on her before compared to her usual casual "chat" style interviews. Babes was nervous, and she crushed it.

Now to breakdown the new People Magazine article:

This article is being presented as "Everything You Need to Know" aka "we are your trusted resource on all things Sarah J. Mass."

People Magazine, while serving as your "trusted resource" for the world of ACOTAR, would not say the protagonists of ACOTAR are the sisters for zero reason whatsoever. What's interesting is both Lucien and Azriel get small nods, but very little otherwise and zero mention of the ship. Just Elain, baybee dolls. This further cements that this designed to portray the Archeron sisters as the leads of the series.

Now, taking a look at the author of this article to see if she specializes in anything, she really doesn't. Miss ma'am writes about everything under the sun!

She also did the Ultimate Guide to Emily Henry's books. (Major Emily Henry Stan over here. Who is dying for Funny Story to come out?!)

This is a Northwestern University journalism grad who has been with People for a few years. She certainly understands what it is that needs to come from these articles, and that is interest, clicks, money, and trust.

There is simply no reason for major networks like Today and People to invest in these thorough and in depth articles and interviews, on screen and on page, with Sarah and continue to hint towards Elain or questioning the mating bond if it will serve no purpose in improving their reputation or generating interest in the plot of the books. That is simply not how this works, and is antithetical to keeping the gears of these machines well oiled and functioning as intended.

If you read this whole thing, wow! You are an MVP. With nothing but respect to you all, I'm not sure how long I will keep this post up or how much I am willing to talk about my time in LA. I unfortunately had some experiences I am still recovering from and already feel a bit anxious putting this much information about myself out there. But for those who catch it, I hope you enjoy and can feel comforted that this is all a part of the plan. There's a reason you see repeats of themes and conversations in all her articles. It's because they are pre-planned and executed with the goal of reputation and selling books in mind.

*** Thanks to Sara Anne (@SaraAnneReads on Tiktok) who shared her insight from working on the marketing team for a magazine in 2019 that adverts have to share if an article is paid for in someway, no matter how small. Thus I have removed my statement on *this* article potentially being part of their paid marketing budget, as there is no indicator of that on the article itself which is required by law.

However, this could be what is called "Earned Media" where a marketing/publicity rep for SJM and/or Bloomsbury *could* have reached out to people magazine and basically said hey, if you want to write about this, we have an announcement coming up soon so it could be relevant and worth talking about. To which the rep for People would say to the rep for SJM, hey, thank you so much for the heads up. There is no exchange of goods or currency and no promise verbally or in writing to do the article so the ethics stay above board, but all parties benefit from earned media. Sarah's team has now earned additional buzz for the upcoming story, and a news outlet has articles out on a trending topic. However, earned media does not have to be disclosed and therefore we have NO way of knowing if this occurred here or not!

She also shared with me People's statement of integrity where People state's their high standard for ethical practices and journalistic credibility and accountability. (I mean we know they are the kings and queens of "a reliable source close to the individual," but still)

She also caught with her eagle eye that Bloomsbury explicitly states the detailed marketing plan once books are announced, including details like year-long social media campaign, arc readers, ECT. So with Sarah already posting about the next ACOTAR, we can safely assert that is part of the existing laid out marketing plan, and assume additional articles surrounding ACOTAR are all to further generate buzz.

Analysis: Elain's book announcement is coming SOON and marketing is already underway!

#elriel #elain x azriel #pro elriel #elriel endgame #elriel supremacy #azriel x elain

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lunalockley · 1 year

Text

The Limo Driver (part two)

Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Like, a lot. Can Jake on his knees count as a warning?

Summary: It's night, it's raining and reader just wants to sleep, until she doesn't anymore.

Words: 7700+

Notes: Sooooo, I'm sorry, it took me a little longer than planned but here it is, I really hope you like it. And thank you all so much for your comments, always brighten my day.

Specially dedicated to my dearest moon emoji anon who made me feel really good about this one <3

Masterlist

gif credit

So… you’ve been thinking about it. Well, you can’t stop. Of course you can’t. He kissed you once and you spent six months half in lov—Ok, no. Wait, what? No. Half hooked up on him you mean. Three-quarters stupid. Completely insane. But not half in that. No.

Uh, whatever. It’s only been a day, a couple of hours. It’s way too recent. So it’s normal for your mind to keep on spinning the matter. And the eyes, and the voice, and the fingers. It’s driving you crazy, to be honest. The feel of them on your throat, on your hips, on your mouth… inside of you. You barely slept last night, your mind keeps taking you back through every fucking second of it without even trying. And then you can almost hear his voice calling you preciosa in that way he does and everything starts to heat up. That good, nice heat that’s so easy to get lost on.

But there’s also the bad one. The focalized heat that sets upon your chest like a weight is pressing down on you, making breathing a little bit harder. That’s the one you felt when you walked out last night. And you’ve been feeling it every time you think about what you said, and what he didn’t. That’s the part you’re trying to avoid. Yet it comes to mind anyways. It’s pretty fucking unfair.

And it’s pretty fucking ridiculous too because how come that after all that has happened, all the time you two have shared, all the things he has done you still can’t… figure him out? It doesn’t make any sense. How does someone that’s so incredibly hermetic make you feel you can read him just by looking him in the eyes when you actually don’t know anything about him at all? Does he do it on purpose? Is it a calculated move or is he somehow unable to—

—And you’re doing it again. Thinking about it non-stop. You called in sick needing a night away from the restaurant, from Jake’s stupid chair and that stupid bathroom that has been giving you palpitations just by the thought of going in and this is how you spend it. You had planned to cook a nice dinner, watch a movie, water your barely-alive plants, do a beginner's yoga class on Youtube, and maybe even finish reading that book that has been dusting on your nightstand. But no, here you are. Already in pajamas, all you’ve done (besides eating yesterday’s leftovers) is sit on the couch contemplating how time passes with the rain and Viejita’s soft meowing in the background. Is procrastination the root of all your problems? Maybe it is.

Or maybe it’s just time to get up and do what you do best: sleep. Give your body the rest your mind refuses to get. You impulse yourself out of the couch to go and take Viejita with you. Cuddling with her makes it all better. No more stupid Jake thinking. You let your ear guide you, she’s right next to the window. She had never complained about the rain before and as she feels you getting closer she even starts scratching the glass.

“Hey, baby, It’s just a little rain,” you mutter, petting her and trying to calm her down until you rest your eyes on what she is staring at down the street.

What the f—He can’t just—There’s no fucking way.

You’re not sure. You just live on the third floor but it’s dark outside. The street light barely lights anything at all. And the rain makes it even harder to see. Yet the outline of the limousine is clearly visible, and so is the figure leaning against it. But it can’t be. You’ve always thought Jake is unusual in every little thing he does but this? He wouldn’t be crazy enough to be waiting under the rain without a fucking umbrella and without even ringing the bell to your apartment, just expecting somehow you knew he would be there, right? That would be insane. It must be a weird coincidence. Some other limo driver who's waiting for someone else here… in this neighborhood? Weird, yet not impossible.

But then he looks up straight at your window and your heart jumps inside your chest as you instinctively hurry back into the shadows, where he can’t see you.

Fuck, it is him.

What the fuck? He knows your apartment is on the third floor, you’ve told him. You’ve told him the number. You’ve told him everything, for fuck’s sake. It's not like you want him to come up to your house knocking on the door in the middle of the night but what is he doing? At this point, you’re sure he purposefully finds the way to do the least expected, most incomprehensible thing in every fucking little thing he does. It must be his life’s motto: “No matter what, always find a way to stress the shit out of the people in my life”.

He’s an idiot, there’s no doubt of it. The thing is: are you an idiot? Well, yeah. You just saw him outside your place and your heart is already a beat away from a fucking heart attack. But you should try not to be an idiot anymore. You shouldn't go down. Make it clear you said it’s over for good. He definitely saw you, he would get it, and then… and then he would leave. Forever. Yeah, that’s what you should do.

But… goodbyes are a good thing too, right?

Closure and all that stuff. Talk things out, even if it sounds unlikely with someone like Jake. You can give it a chance. A… friendly goodbye. Ok, yeah. Sounds good. And it is the right thing in this type of situation, grown-up shit. A goodbye, that’s all.

You take one last look at the street just in case you’ve lost your mind and you’ve imagined the whole thing, but he’s still right there. Arms crossed, leaning against the limo and probably soaking fuking wet.

“Your dad’s an idiot, Viejita,” you say to the little black beast before taking her in your arms to leave her on her favorite cushion on the sofa. She settles down, pleased and exhausted as if she's accomplished a hard job.

You grab your keys next to the mirror at the entrance.

Just a goodbye.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The bone-chilling air hits you as soon as you step out of the building but seeing him is what makes you stop dead in your tracks for a second. You couldn’t see it up from your floor but he’s wearing his usual type of clothes, not the casual ones that somehow felt so out of place on him yesterday. Now the familiarity of the white shirt, the jacket, and the hat gives you a naive sense of comfort you try to dismiss away. As if this one were more of your Jake than it was yesterday. Stupid, he’s not more of anything and it’s just clothes.

A white shirt, a jacket, and a hat that are drenched, by the way. Which reminds you—

“What the fuck are you doing in the rain? Are you insane?”

Instead of answering he just looks at you and opens the limo’s door. Silently asking you to get in.

Ok, well…. you didn't think this through. You only thought about coming down, not actually getting into his car. But, you guess… there’s no other option. You came here to say your friendly goodbye, after all. Can’t do it in the rain, just like that. And a veil of water drops is already setting in your clothes, you can feel some of the fabric clanging into your body. Another thing you didn’t think through is the worn-out sweatpants you came out with, the old shirt that has somehow become a pajama shirt, and your lack of a bra underneath.

Fuck it.

When you slide into the car you notice how spacious the limousine is yet it surprises you how it does not seem to be room for many people. There are only two rows of red leather seats facing each other. So much space for so few passengers. In order to be more private and luxurious, you guess. It makes you think about the people he drives for. Might he be just as serious and inaccessible as you’ve seen him be with basically everyone else? Or might he show his weird uncharismatic charisma as he has done with you? The latter doesn’t sound so good, for some reason.

You stop nosing around when you feel him sitting next to you a little bit closer than the spacious seat needs. You were right. He's drenched and most likely ruining the luxurious leather of the luxurious car, but he doesn't seem to care as he turns his whole body and attention towards you.

“Is it every day or once every six months with you? No in-betweens?” You blurt out, cornered by the closeness of his body.

Fuck, friendly goodbye. Friendly.

“Sorry. I take that back,” you mumble, thinking your next words before you pronounce them this time. “Why didn’t you ring the bell to my apartment?”

“It’s late. I saw the lights on but thought you might have fallen asleep. Didn’t want to disturb you. You work too much, preciosa,” he answers calmly, his voice softer than you ever heard before. Not in a submissive way but in a disarmingly appeasing tone as if he had come here disarmed, without any shields. Exactly the opposite of how you feel right now. You move back in the seat trying to get as far as you can get in the restricted space. Soft raspy melting voices shouldn’t cause claustrophobia.

“And if I had been sleeping what would you have done? Wait till I wake up tomorrow?” You throw it out half as a joke, but immediately you realize—

He doesn’t even have to answer to know that’s the truth. He had come here to see you and wouldn’t have left until he did.

“Do you always get what you want? Is that how things work for you?”

“If things worked out for me this wouldn’t be the first time I see you outside work,” he says replies, lifting his hat and running a hand through his hair. And to your disbelief, he puts it back with a sigh like he didn't even realize the damn thing is soaking fucking wet just like the rest of his clothes are. He should take it all off before he catches a cold. Ha, go on. Keep thinking of him without his clothes on. Good idea. “Speaking of which, you know what am I thinking?”

“Are you kidding me?” You snort, turning towards him, as shocked by your train of thought as by the audacity of his question. “I never know what you’re thinking,” you whisper, taken aback by the fact that he still doesn’t understand how little you understand him. At all. That’s the whole point here.

“That’s weird, I’ve always felt you can see right through me,” he mutters, frowning at you as if you had any fault in that absurd idea. Stupid Jake. His voice sounds sincere but you chose not to even give it a second thought, can’t allow yourself that right now. Not with the purpose you came here for.

So you cross your arms and frown back at him, refusing to answer anything at all. But he mirrors you, crossing his arms and resting his back against the seat.

God, this is so stupid. You’re so mad at him but can’t help smiling when the stare competition last a little too long. It’s infuriating. And so ridiculous. You came here to say goodbye, why are you smiling?

“What are you thinking?” You ask, defeated.

A crooked smile forms on his lips in victory, but he quickly brushes away with his thumb.

“I’m thinking you look pretty fucking good here like this,” he says taking a look at your body, his eyes somehow soft and dark on equal parts. You try to ignore the effect his tone produces under your skin.

“In pajamas on your limousine?”

“Yeah, it’s a sight,” he breathes lowly, uncrossing his arms and getting a little bit closer. You can’t take it.

“Stop—don't do that, please.”

He waits for you to continue.

“That thing you do,” you explain reluctantly. “You make it sound like you’re joking but it feels like you are telling the truth. It’s confusing. Tell me what you are really thinking for once.”

“I’m telling you in every way I know.”

The words are out of his mouth like a caress and the way he’s—No, no, no. Focus. He’s flirting his way out. Get to the point.

“So? Did you come here to say goodbye?”

“Why would I say goodbye?” He retorts like you had asked him the most bizarre question possible.

“Because we are not seeing each other again, I told you it’s over.”

“Oh, it’s over? So what are you doing here?”

“Would you have left if I didn’t come down? I’m saving you from pneumonia. You’re welcome.”

He shakes his head, a reproachful gleam in his eyes but then he exhales and lets it go. He looks out the window for a moment and then back at you. Outside, the rain pounds harder.

“I came to say that I’m… I’m sorry”

“Oh, that’s a first. What for?”

You cross your legs and he follows the movement. Then he shifts in his seat once more, trying to find comfort.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t—That I left without saying anything—I… I just disappeared. I’m sorry. I understand why you’re angry. If it had been you I would’ve—I’m sorry.”

He’s struggling so much one would think this is the first time he apologizes for something in his life. It cracks your walls a little bit, but still—

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I just had to go and then I couldn’t come back.”

“How so?”

“I… I’m not able to control my time as I used to, just when is necessary.”

Oh. You weren’t important enough to come and let you know he was going to disappear for six fucking months.

“Yeah I get that, you didn’t need to be here,” you grunt moving to get out of the car but he moves from his seat, catching your hand before you even get to touch the handle.

“Let me go, you asshole!”

You try to push him back but in half a second he’s resting his knees on the floor as his hands take yours on a soft grip at each side of your hips. He’s caging you between his body and the seat. And even when your body keeps attempting to get out of the car, the intense heat that radiates out of his body makes you wonder how his wet clothes aren’t fucking steaming.

“Wait, wait—hey, wait, stop,” he says soothingly, his voice not a bit altered by the force with which you are trying to push him. His left-hand find that soft spot on the side of your neck, drawing your attention to his dark eyes. You lose a little bit of your strength. “Listen to me. You’re angry, I know. Take it out on me. You’ll feel better.”

What?

Your heartbeat buzzes in your ears and you feel a little lightheaded. This is the first time he’s looking up to you instead of the other way around. Maybe that's what causes that slight desperate effect in his deep brown eyes, the look that the last speaker of an extinguished language would have. Condemned to never truly communicate with anyone else. And the way he looks kneeled in front of you, surrounded, as if he would let you do anything to him right now. Take it out on me, he said. Is he expecting you to hit him or something?

“That’s not how things work, Jake. I’m not gonna turn you into my… human stress relief ball. You just told me you don’t need this. And I wanna make that call too. So, that’s it. You’re an idiot but we’re good. Now move and let me go. It’s ok, it’s over just like I–”

“No, it’s not. Stop that,” he says all frown and serious, and then a little softer. “And that’s not what I meant. But let me apologize. I wanna make you feel good, baby. Then the rest. Let me have you happy and relaxed first.”

“What?—That’s n-not—We should talk”

“Oh, so you came here to talk not to say goodbye?”

“Are you serious?”

“Sorry,” he says in an innocent tone like he regrets it but he's actually smiling, the widest smile you've ever seen on him yet. A happy smile. The desperate glimmer turned into triumph. He knows you just gave in, he knows he’s won this one. God, you hate him. Stupid Jake.

“Don’t—” take off my slipper, you try to say. But he’s already taking the other one. You really didn’t think about your outfit at all before walking out of your apartment tonight. Whatever. Focus. “What did you mean then, explain it to me. You gotta give me something here because I don’t want to do this anymore, Jake. Not like this.”

He holds your eyes for a moment and then he leans forward, resting his forehead against your knee. One hand slowly making his way up over your calve, the other rolling up the fabric to expose the skin. It takes him a minute to speak again.

“I… I don’t have control over—I don’t really have a—I just do what needs to be done. That’s the purpose of me. That’s all I do. I prevent things from happening and if they happen I resolve them. I… survive, I guess. And this is how it’s been for as long as I can remember. It’s ok—it was, it was ok. It was until one night instead of going to a shitty bar like I always do I decide for some fucking reason to go into that damn 24/7 breakfast and you happened. I didn’t like it, at first, because I knew right there that it wasn’t going to be enough. I already wanted more. I tried to stop it but I kept going and going. You were always there. Lighting things up. Of course, I kept wanting more. It’s never enough”.

While he was speaking his fingertips were gently caressing your calf, his cheek word by word tracing the side of your leg, seeking the reassurance feeling of skin against skin but as soon as the last sentence is pronounced his mouth starts giving open mouth kisses to every inch of uncovered skin it finds on its way and you’re scared your heart may stop working it all. It’s the feel of his tongue in that sensitive spot in the back of your knee, his left hand slowly exploring the length of your thigh but mostly his words and that impenetrable wall finally beginning to break down.

You weren’t expecting this. You thought he was going to come up with a half-true half-joke excuse that you were going to resist not believing in. And then get the courage to walk away just like you had planned. But this is different. You know this is different. You know he meant it. You know for the way he was so evidently struggling to find the right words, the hoarseness on every one of them as if his body were still trying to keep them locked deep inside. This is him. This is what you’ve been asking for. But still—

“The thing is you’re changing things for me, preciosa. I know I’m not made for this. I’m fucked up, I am. I’m not good. And on top of that, there’s not much I can offer you. I’ve nothing. And I can’t even take care of a damn cat without having it all fall over. I’m not even close to being good enough for you. You deserve better, you do—but I’m still here… if you want me. And even if you don’t, I would still be here, waiting.”

It’s raining properly now, hammering on the roof of the limousine. The furious rhythm of hundreds of drops almost synchronized with the rapid beat of your heart. His thumb hooked over the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling until your hip is exposed. Your breath caught in your throat.

“You deserve better but I’m selfish now. If anything is your fault, you turned me into this. I want you for my own,” he mutters, leaning in to kiss the skin of your lower stomach. You can’t help but gasp at the contact, he’s barely touched you and you already can feel the wetness dripping out of you. “Will you let me have you?”

He’s looking you straight into your eyes now, he hadn’t done it since he started speaking, and you can see how much he just gave you. You’ve learned to know him, somehow. Not in the way one learns to read deciphering signs on a page but in the way our eyes become accustomed to darkness after some time. Groping and stumbling you’ve learned some parts of him, his outline. That’s how you know he’s asking for way more than he’s letting on. You have the feeling that saying yes to him involves a lot more than saying yes to somebody else. The feeling that whatever it is he’s asking from you might consume you and leave you heartbroken afterward. But that’s not the hold-up.

The thing is, you want more, you want to see him in full light. You want him for your own too. But you need to understand him. Fully. You won't give yourself up without having him first.

“You want me to beg? I’ll beg if you want me to, but then I’ll be the one taking it out on you later,” he threats when you don’t answer for a while, all teasing voice and mischief glimmer, he’s back to the playful Jake you know so well. A little too long of silence and his defenses go up again.

You don’t think he’ll keep spilling truths voluntarily but now that you’ve heard some of them you want more. You’ve become addicted. You need more. But how?

And how are you supposed to think while he keeps playing with the waistband of your pants? Fuck, unless—He just acted on your terms, revealing himself just like you’ve asked him to. Now is your turn. You probably will get immediately caught up on it, but you can try.

You need to play it his way then.

He sees the change on your face and a spellbound gleam forms in his eyes.

“Show me how it would feel,” you whisper and you don’t need to say it twice.

As soon as the words are out of your mouth the sweatpants are out of your legs. Once he has you only in your t-shirt and your panties he leans back a little bit observing you from head to toe, lingering his eyes on yours, on the contour of your hardened nipples and the wet patch of your panties, as if he wanted to burn the image in his memory, the pervert. Well, you can’t judge, you are the same. Admiring how the white wet shirt clings to his torso, wrapping him like hard candy. You may as well lick him—fuck, focus. Focus.

When he starts to slowly take off your panties you manage to find your voice again.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you undress me on the street.”

“You’re letting me undress you in my car, it’s hot. And its got tinted glasses, and it’s dark outside and you’re with me, bonita,” he answers absently, focused on the delicate movement of the silky material as it slides down your legs. You can't mock him at the implication that you're safe with him though, you know it's true. You’ve felt it from the first day.

Once your panties reach your ankles he carefully removes them to put them in the pocket of his pants. Again, pervert. You ignore the need to clench your thighs together at the gesture and decide to tease him about it. He deserves it. And it’s what has worked the best so far. Pushing his buttons it’s what had you moaning in the fucking bathroom of your workplace anyways.

“To remember me?” You ask as innocently as you can.

But he’s done with it. He pins you with his gaze, raising a thick eyebrow at you.

“Why would I need reminding, exactly?”

“Because this is the last time.”

“What did I just say? Stop that. Don’t make me say it again. You know it’s not enough, preciosa. You know it.” His lips back to your legs, his voice still annoyed but so soft you don’t think you hear right: “Will never be.”

For the sake of your own heart, you rather believe you misheard.

He opens your legs a little bit further and then—

“Fuck, baby.” He sounds so wrecked, you feel weak. You were supposed to do something, what was it? “Voy a despertar soñándote por el resto de mi puta vida.”

“That’s not fair, you know I don’t understand. And tell me… tell me more about yourself first, please.”

“There’s not much to tell. And I’d like to do something else with my tongue right now.”

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“I mean, if I could record this right n—”

“Jake.”

“Whichever you’d like to watch with me, bonita.”

“You drive for a living?”

“That’s how I earn some money, yeah. Stop torturing me.”

“But you’re not just a driver, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“And is that…dangerous?”

“Not to you. I promise”

“Are you in danger?”

“I’m in danger of dying as a thirsty man here.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Lockley. Come on, baby, don't make me go crazier than I already am.”

“Lockley… Jake Lockley.” That catches his attention back to your mouth for a second. “What’s your favorite hobby?”

“This,” he says sliding you effortlessly to the edge of the seat. You feel his breath near your core and you know you’re losing it. Shit, why were you doing this? Why are you delaying it when you want it so badly? Oh, right, you—

“Jake, wait,” you breathe. “I need more. I need to understand.”

“Then pay attention, preciosa.”

His mouth finds your inner thigh and he’s so close. So close. You won’t hold back anymore. You can’t. Your hand finds his shoulder just to hold onto something but fuck. He’s still in his wet clothes. He can’t stay like this. You gather the little willpower you have left to push him back. You expect some sort of resistance but he moves back with no effort on your part. Take it out on me, is this what he meant?

The way he raises his gaze is enough to set your blood on fire. He looks at you as if he’s about to say fuck it all and push you back to have his way with you mixed with genuine curiosity about what are you going to do next. Submission hanging by a thread.

“Take off your jacket.”

He holds your gaze for a moment and then he does it. Fuck, the power trip you're feeling right now. It feels pretty fucking good having him listening to you like that. More.

“Now your shirt.”

He sighs and begins to unbutton it, somehow amused by how much you're pushing it. Did he just unblock a new kink for you?

Once the shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor of the limo you lean forward to take off his hat. Is soaking wet just like his hair is underneath. And of course, you can’t resist. You take a moment to run a hand through his curls all the way down to his nape until your hand is resting on his shoulder again. He looks so fucking hot like this. You bite the urge to confess it, instead, you lean back and open your legs a little further, an invitation.

“You can go on, now.”

The little smile he’s trying to bite back makes your stomach flutter. You decide to tease him a little bit more.

“I mean, if you don’t want to…” you concede, beginning to close your legs but you barely get to move an inch before he dives right in and—

Fucking heaven.

You loudly gasp at the feeling of the wet heat of his mouth dragging over the folds of your pussy, his groan sending shivers from your core through your whole body. Fuck, it’s too good. It’s too good. When his tongue swirls around your clit your brain short-circuits having at the same the time the urge to push him away and push him impossibly closer. As your hand finds his curls you realize your body has chosen the latter. The movement pleases him, you can feel his smile against you.

“So fucking good,” he mutters, barely pulling back as you feel the movement of his lips with each word. Your hips move forward anyway, chasing the delicious contact.

Fuck, you’re already on the edge. His mouth is giving you everything without holding anything back. Fixed on wreck you from the beginning, desire running through your abdomen.

“Oh, fuck. Jake, I–I’m gonna—”

“Eyes on me, preciosa.” Is all he says but your mind is gone, every cell in your body focused on the sweet hot pleasure that’s rushing to you core. Your head falls back against the seat as the shocks of ecstasy flow through you, your whines chanting his name, your hand holding thigh to his hair, your cunt clenching hard around nothing—his mouth not leaving you for a second, drowning in you.

When your legs twtich a little too much one hand holds your hips down hard into the seat to ensure you keep still but he’s not stopping, he’s—

He’s—

Two long, thick fingers slid in and out of you as Jake’s mouth goes up, focusing on your swollen clit, licking and sucking and his eyes—

Fuck, you can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

His gaze is so deep and strong, melting your fucking bones. You’ve never been seen like that, never.

“Keep your eyes on me or I’ll keep going until you let me see.”

You can’t help but clench at his words, a whine escaping your lips. He feels it.

“Mmm, would you like that?”

It’s too much, too intense. The free fall never stops inside of you. And you can’t even move away from it. You just have to take it the way he wants to.

His tongue swirls, his fingers curl and you completely lose yourself in the pleasure ripping you from the inside. Your sense of gravity changes to where his wet hot mouth keeps taking everything you have to give. His fierce brown eyes the only thing keeping you grounded.

“That’s it. Look at you, so fucking pretty baby,” Jake says in that dark rich voice you love so much, and though he keeps praising you you’re too gone to even hear anymore. All you can do is lay back against the seat of his limo until your heart stops booming in your ears and air reintegrates into your lungs again.

When feeling comes back to your numb body you find one of his hands massaging the back of your neck, the other moving from your collarbone towards that spot that keeps beating strong under his touch. He keeps his warm palm right there in your heart and fuck, he’s still kneeling in front of you, looking at you with Am I forgiven eyes and you know this is not healthy, this is not how things should be, yet all you want to do is to close your own eyes because you know they’re answering him yes, yes you are. Instead, you lower your head to brush your lips into his, an invitation that makes his body go so pliant on you when you grab him and take him up with you, maneuvering him until you’re on his lap and you can finally kiss him like you’ve wanted since the moment you met him.

That first kiss six months ago was tentative and stiff, it felt like he was trying to stop himself but his body wouldn’t respond to his rational wishes, like his mouth was moving against all his fucking will. Yesterday’s kisses were dark and possessive, every movement of his tongue deliberately planned to have you whining at his mercy.

This one is completely different. This time it’s you who’s leading the way. This time it’s you who’s showing him that the despair that’s so evident in the glimmer of his eyes is the same that’s hidden deep down in your chest. And you know, you know, that the moan that sips out of him when you cradle each side of his face and your tongue clashes into his is because he understands what your body is saying to him. He knows.

And it may be minutes or hours, all you’re conscious of is the constant pattering of the rain against the roof of the car, your own taste in his mouth, the way he pushes you closer every time you bite his lower lip, his fingers under your t-shirt caressing the small of your back, tracing your ribs and digging in your hips, the warmth of his skin, the hard muscle underneath, his damp curls when you run your nails through his head, those dark sounds that come out of his throat when you rock against the bulge inside his pants, the slow, steady bone-melting rhythm that completely intoxicates you until you need more, more, more.

And you know he does too.

He takes off your shirt in one swift motion. You feel something icy at the center of your collarbone but you don’t even have time to process it because suddenly your breast is in his hot wet mouth and his teeth are gently nipping the flesh there and then his tongue swirls against your nipple and—

You need—you’re overwhelmed by the need to have him as delirious as he has you right now.

You push him back into the seat and he’s immediately calling you preciosa and complaining but you are already kissing him, shutting him up, and undoing the zipper of his pants. He growls in your mouth when you palm the outline of his cock over his underwear, your walls clench hard in anticipation. And then he shivers when you slowly run your nails throughout his length over the fabric and you know you’re fucked. You will crave this feeling for the rest of your life. The feeling of having Jake Lockley trembling with pleasure underneath you. An instant addiction.

You take his hard cock out and you and you don't even give him time to pull his pants out or take them off before you’re rubbing your slit against his length. Utterly and unashamedly desperate.

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters in your mouth, his tight and raspy voice making you throb in need, his muscles tense under your hands. “Feels soo good, doesn’t it? This is how it will feel like, everything, every fucking time.”

He pushes back a little to look at you. You know he’s talking about what you answered when he asked to have you. Show me how it would feel. You know this is his way to push for an answer. A confirmation that you’re his. But instead of trying to find those words hidden somewhere in your chest you get lost in his deep brown eyes and you realize that all those moments when he looked at you like he wanted to crawl under your skin your eyes must have looked at him just the same way.

“Will you let me have you?” The question leaves your lips this time, yet no words come out of his mouth but a breathless choked sound as if you’ve punched him in the gut. Instead, he just grabs the side of your neck and glares at you with something profound that could be anger or devotion, or maybe both. And then he’s kissing you, his tongue fighting yours, how dare you is saying. A hand on your hip lifts you up enough so that he can line himself up at your entrance and just when you begin to feel that pressure—

“If we are doing this you’re not allowed to leave again without warning, Ok? It’s cruel,” you blurt out without thinking, your helpless heart rising to the surface, exposing itself despite your efforts.

“Ok,” he answers, his voice torn and low, as solemnly as he can with your cunt torturously dripping the length of his cock. You look down, ready to feel him inside but he grabs your chin and makes you look at him again. “And you’re not allowed to say you hate me. Ever again. I mean it. Ok?”

“Or?”

“Or I’ll fuck your pretty little brains out until I have you begging me to stop but I won’t until I’m sure you’ve completely forgotten the damn fucking word. Ok?” He pulls at your hair for emphasis and you have to fight down the moan that threatens to leave your throat with the gesture.

“Ok,” you answer out of breath, obediently.

“Good,” he praises, soothing your scalp with his fingertips. Then, cheeky again. “What am I allowed to?”

“You’re allowed to ring the bell to my apartment, for once.” You laugh but then—

He holds your hips as he slowly begins to slide his cock in, gently and steadily but fuck.

Holy fuck.

You’re so wet there’s barely any resistance bet he’s long and thick and the stretch feels like he’s gonna break you in half. The strong grip of your hands on his shoulders makes him stop before he can go any further.

“You’ll get used to me,” he gasps in your temple. “Fuck, such a tight fucking pussy, baby. But I’ll make you get used to me. All of you.”

“Shut up and just keep going, for fuck’s sake”

“Relax on me, preciosa. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispers in your ear, his fingers caressing every inch of skin he can find, his tongue licking the pulse in your neck. “Relax…Mmm, that’s it. Yeah, like that.”

It takes a little. The expert grip on your hips makes you sink into him so, so slowly every inch of him steals a whine out of you but you know it’s driving him fucking crazy too. He’s breathing hard, the muscles in his abdomen jump at the slightest shift of your hips, and a faint film of sweat appears on his neck. It makes you wanna lick him. But you get distracted by how good and how deep it feels and how his hands move from your hips to a playful hold on your throat, until they fall flat on the seat.

“You can go on, now,” he returns your words, a cheeky little grim forming in the corner of his lips as he leans back on the seat. Leaving you to it. Your heart swells at the wrecked and joyful gleam of his eyes.

You try to say something smart and snarky at him but his cock is buried deep inside of you and you can’t think of anything else, to be honest. You lift yourself up and down, tentatively, the burning so good it has so gasping.

“Feels good, baby? Feels so right, doesn’t it? You know why it feels so right, don’t you? You understand it.”

You pick up your pace, oblivious of his words, trying to suppress the hidden emotion behind every roll of your hips. You don’t want to hear those words, you don’t need to. Not now. But he keeps going—

“You have no idea all the times a woke up this,” he breathes, his hands finding your hips again. Unable to stay away for too long. “Preciosa lurking me with her smart mouth and her —fuck— her pretty smile. Letting me punish her for being too good for me.”

He makes you clench hard around him. You can’t help it. It’s his words, the idea.

“Mmm, you’d like that. I’d like that too. I could spank you for every time you wouldn’t leave my fucking head, for distracting me,” he growls grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing it. “How red would your ass be then, huh?”

His hand goes up to hold your hip again. And now he’s thrusting into you. Reaching places you couldn’t reach yourself, so fucking deep.

“I could edge you to tears for doing this to me.” The pad of his thumb finds your clit and you whine his name in response. The shots of ecstasy are growing fast and intense. You’re gasping, he’s breathing hard. And to your surprise, he keeps talking. “I could have you screaming for—for—”

Before he was forcing himself to get the truth out, struggling to answer your questions with honesty. But now it’s flowing out of him, a little bit of truth with every thrust of his hips. Every word sticking deep into your heart.

“Fuck, I missed you… my whole body felt it even—even when I wasn't myself.”

God, you can’t even process each sensation. And his scent is concentrated in that soft spot on the side of his neck, it makes you dizzy. You’re so out of yourself, so overflowed with sensations and desire, that you only notice you’re running your tongue down the skin of his throat when growls and holds you impossibly closer, just like you wanted.

Is too much. Everything. This is—you’ve never felt anything like this before. Like the whole ground is disappearing under you. All you can do is hold onto Jake, one hand on his shoulder the other on his nape, your face buried in his neck. But he’s asking you something, his voice softer than before.

“Do you understand?”

But you’re too lost on it. You can’t—Your movements start to grow impatient, fast, and erratic. The hot melting pleasure is close once more. But not close enough.

“Preciosa, answer me.”

You keep clinging to him, refusing to do anything but chase the feeling. You’re almost there, almost there, you’re—

You’re suddenly on your back, his body hovering over yours, both of your hands taken behind you, arching you and maintaining you exposed. Making it impossible to hide away. His hand is on the side of your neck, his eyes piercing through you. He’s expecting the same sincerity he has given you tonight. He’s done what you’ve been asking him this whole time—broken down the wall between you two. Why are you so scared to take what was behind it? Because it’ll consume you. It already is. And you know if he disappears again—If he disappears after all this everything it would be so, so much worse. It’s too much risk. It’s all too much. You can’t—

But fuck, he looks so lost in you.

“Tell me, do you understand now?”

At this point, you couldn't lie even if you tried. Your heart is on the surface.

“Yes, yeah. I-I do. Me too, Jake.”

“Fuck, mía.” He groans between desperate kisses on your mouth, then becomes a prayer that escapes from his lips with every needier, sloppier thrust of his hips. “Mía, mía, mía…”

Your whole body tenses under him then the pleasure rips you from the inside, making you scream this time. The hard squeeze of your cunt enough to push him to the edge. He grinds his cock as deep as he can against something that makes you sob and then he’s cumming, hard. You feel his body shuddering above and you want to see every second of it but everything goes blurry.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Somehow, you find yourself on his lap again. Your whole body a dead weight against him. Your head tugged in the curve of his neck. His hands moving up and down along your back.

Your body is tired yet the adrenaline is still running through your veins. You can feel it buzzing somewhere inside, that’s why you are surprised when your voice comes out as a whisper.

“If you disappear again I swear that I—”

“I won’t. I can’t.”

You push back to look into his eyes in search of any sign that may tell otherwise, but you don’t find any.

“I won’t be long gone. I’ll be back soon,” he reassures, running his fingertips from your neck to your collarbone, his lips gently tracing your jawline. “Apenas pude aguantarme esta vez. No soy tan fuerte.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’ll be back. Ok?”

Suddenly he’s looking into your eyes for some sort of final confirmation that you feel the same way he feels, even if he didn’t confess it with words. And you do. You do, you do, you do, your answer to him. Instead, your mouth says—

“Ok.”

He takes your face in both his hands. His lips brushing yours.

“Mi preciosa.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

A few hours before sunrise, long after the rain has stopped, you enter your apartment. Happy and exhausted, you know you’ll fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. You also know you’ll dream of brown deep eyes and a raspy voice calling you preciosa over and over again.

As you put your keys next to the mirror at the entrance your eyes catch a sparkle on your neck. It’s a silver necklace with a little moon on it. It’s beautiful.

Your head turns to the window, to the moonlight and the limousine below it that you know won't leave until it sees all your lights off.

You had never felt anything like this before, you had never been under the weight of an emotion so strong that there was no way to communicate it with words, you had never been able to understand someone just by looking into their eyes. But then Jake isn’t like anyone you have met before either. And there's nothing you'd do to change that.

You know he will be back.

———————————————

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wntrs0ldier · 1 year

Text

An Offer · part 03

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 3,3k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.)

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series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

Since the question of marriage came into your life, everything else has receded into the background. Even if you tried to distract yourself, you couldn't focus on anything other than agreements, mergers, potential offers and, most importantly, fears about the future. You wondered whether the Rumlow Family would agree to talk again. If not, what was left for you? You didn't have enough time to learn how to manage your father's business; to master all the functions of the Head of the Family. Besides, you didn't even have the right qualities to become one.

Unable to concentrate on your work, you closed your laptop. Your gallery was scheduled to host an exhibition soon, and you had been doing your best to give it enough attention, but you gave up after the fifth mindless reading of an email. Having stood by a huge window that overlooked a patch of the city, you let your thoughts wander somewhere to the beginning of your life, or at least to the moment when you began to be aware of it. You reflected on which decision – yours or someone around you – had brought you to this point.

You weren't sure about your father, but your mother didn't want that life for you. When she thought you were old and sensible enough, she would say: Never marry a gangster.

But this life never bothered you. You weren't afraid of guns or blood, and the usual dangers that came with what your father did didn't particularly scare you.

For the first few years of your life you were no different from any other kid. But as soon as you finished elementary school, your parents sent you to a private girls' school in London, where you spent the next six years. At first you thought the prestigious academy abroad was a real opportunity. Only later did you realise what it was really all about. Your mother panicked; she didn't want to let you soak up the darkness and ruthlessness of the world that was your father's everyday life. She believed that there was something inside you already, and that it needed to be nipped in the bud.

But her plan failed. You noticed and understood more than was thought. Sending you to another country didn't get the job done, because when you came home for holidays and long weekends, you seeked ways to absorb as much as possible of what your mother was protecting you from. Your father, on the other hand, seeing your enthusiasm and fascination, secretly allowed you to explore this world, but dispensed it safely. You may not have become an expert because of this, but you were not completely clueless either. You learned a few things.

Your mind swiftly connected your past with the relationship you had with Bucky. You both came from the same background, your father having a good relationship with both George and Timothy Barnes. Despite this, Bucky's and your paths never really crossed. He was six years older than you, so when you finally finished school and returned home permanently, you didn’t see him often.

You wouldn't say that you knew him. You were only aware of his existence, you had heard things about him. You witnessed the assassination of his father and then Bucky just disappeared. He left New York for two years.

And now? You considered an analogy – he was becoming to you what George and Timothy were to your father. You supposed you both had it in your blood; a mutual affection for each other.

Your thoughts were disturbed by a knock at the door. A girl named Tracy, who worked in the gallery, entered your office with a big bouquet of hyacinths and white tulips. This sight caught you off guard.

“Who are these from?” Tracy asked, grinning with excitement. She put the flowers on the desk.

You raised your eyebrows. “I thought you'd tell me.”

“Courier delivered them.” She looked at the flowers with persistent admiration. You would have given a lot to be able to share her enthusiasm, but you were aware that this bouquet could have meant anything. Like another offer, you thought uneasily.

Noticing a small piece of paper, you reached carefully between the stems. You didn't expect to know the handwriting; nevertheless, you felt even more anxious.

These flowers are supposed to symbolize an apology. Really. Check that out.

Sorry.

Your first suspicion fell on Brock. Could it be that he regretted the way he behaved in the pub that day? No one else had offended you enough to send flowers. And even though you still didn't want to have anything to do with Brock, you couldn't get rid of them. The bouquet didn't make you forgive Brock, but it didn't deserve to be thrown away either.

Another sleepless night was no particular surprise, but you felt too exhausted to accept it. Besides, you couldn’t let tiredness affect your next day – you had to be able to think properly, especially now. So having taken something to help you sleep, you lay in the darkness, waiting for the effects.

Until something caught your attention.

A quiet tap, but you couldn't tell where it was coming from. Immediately afterwards you heard it again. You sat up on the bed, switched on the bedside lamp – which blinded you at first – and looked around. With another tap you realised that it was the sound of something hitting the window.

You got out of bed and walked there. Because of the moonlight outside, it was bright enough for you to recognise the man standing below. Without a second thought, you opened the window.

“Hi,” Bucky spoke.

You stuck your head out and smiled; you tried to do it with disapproval, but you had to admit that his presence instantly lightened your mood. And the fact that the scene looked like a forbidden romance of teenagers allowed you to forget about your current problems. “Did you just throw rocks at my window?”

“Would you rather I scream? I can scream.” He lifted his eyebrows with conviction.

You raised your eyebrows expectantly.

“Actually, I can’t,” Bucky said, and you let out a brief laugh. “I’m too scared of Michael,” he lowered his voice.

“And that's why you are standing there instead of using the door,” you guessed, causing him to nod. “Do you want me to come down to you..?”

“I can go up to you.” He shrugged casually.

“Oh, really?”

Hearing the skepticism in your voice, Bucky shook his head resignedly, theatrically offended by your lack of confidence in his abilities, then moved closer to the wall. You watched him with a kind of awe, certain that he would give up at the last moment. At least, that seemed the most sensible option to you. However, Bucky grabbed onto the drainpipe, and placing his feet on its fixings, began to climb upwards. Your eyes widened.

On the one hand, you wanted to stop him; to ask him to come back down. On the other, the sight gave you too much joy that you didn't want to take away from yourself.

You moved back to a safe distance so Bucky could slip inside without trouble, and when he was on the final straight, you grabbed his arm with both hands and pulled him into the room. Not that he needed it, but your conscience did.

“Thanks,” he breathed, dusting off his T-shirt and jeans.

The typical coolness of a spring night was coming in, so you closed the window, then reached for your robe and threw it over your shoulders. When you turned your gaze towards Bucky again, you found him by your dresser.

“So, this is your room,” he concluded, inspecting the scented candle he had grabbed from the top of the dresser. He unscrewed the lid of a small jar and hesitantly sniffed the wax inside. Only then did he glance at the label, frowning. “It's… not how I'd imagined.”

Your forehead creased. “What? My room?”

“Lounge At Night.” Bucky lifted the candle so you could see what he was talking about. You rolled your eyes, snorting a quiet laugh. “You like them? Scented candles?”

“Mhm,” you answered, watching him with patience. You wondered what he was up to. And why did he come here.

“I've never thought about your room. I'm not that perverted like-” he cut off suddenly, unsure whether he should mention that.

“Like Brock?”

Bucky smiled at first, then let out a quiet sigh. Staring at you with something you couldn’t exactly figure out, he chewed on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry if I took away your chance to get married.”

“Wasn't that the plan? To cool Michael’s enthusiasm?” You squinted, the corners of your mouth turned up in an amused smile. “Anyway…” you added more seriously. “I wouldn’t call Brock a chance.”

“Good. Because I’m not really sorry.” He raised his eyebrows, and you cackled again. Talking to Bucky turned out to be a pleasant escape from all the important conversations you've been having lately.

But you felt uneasy, having recalled the situation in the gallery. “I don't know if he's not up to something. I… got some flowers today,” you said nervously.

There was some slight change in Bucky's face, which you could barely see in the faint light of the bedside lamp. Sparks of boyish sneakiness flickered in his eyes, but otherwise he remained unmoved. “White tulips and blue hyacinths?”

You didn't immediately realise what he was actually telling you. But when you did, your brows drew together and your lips parted slightly, but no sound came out except for a single short breath. “Those were from you?”

Bucky nodded. “What I did was wrong. I left you in that pub without saying anything. I was a bit harsh, too, and you did nothing to deserve it.”

You pursed your lips helplessly. It wasn't that you felt relieved when it turned out that Brock hadn't given you an outstretched hand. You were somehow touched by Bucky's gesture. Not only had he sent you flowers, but – as the little note in the bouquet told – he had made sure they were not accidental.

“Hey…” Bucky began softly, walking up to you. He seemed concerned. “I’m sorry. Didn't mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” you protested right away. “I didn't expect to get flowers from you, that's all.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he studied your face in silence. Just by that expression you could feel the teasing coming. “Is it that shocking? You think I'm that thick skinned?”

“You said yourself you’re not a guy to marry,” you pointed out. “So, yes, such romantic gestures from you can be pretty shocking.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Romantic gestures?”

“Leave it,” you warned. “I don't often get flowers. That's why I was so moved.”

“I thought men throw themselves at your feet.” Bucky seemed genuinely surprised.

“Sometimes they do. But they don’t buy me flowers,” you clarified, smirking. “So far you are the only one who has done both,” you reminded him, referring to the situation at the funeral. And although you felt embarrassed at the time, now this event slightly sweetened your memories. “The bouquet was really beautiful. Thank you.” Your mouth curved into a delicate smile. “And for what you did for me in the car that day. And for Brock.”

Bucky's face softened again. At first he gazed at you with mild surprise, astonished by your gratitude. It seemed he wasn't waiting for a thank you, which you didn't suspect him of anyway. “I get you out of trouble, right?”

“And I don’t understand why you do it every time.”

“I told you, I want to do some good. For a change.” Bucky shrugged.

“Mhm,” you murmured unconvinced.

“You're saying I should sit around and do nothing?”

“Well, I’m not your problem, aren’t I?”

You secretly hoped that you would manage to frustrate him with your tenacity enough that he might finally tell you the real reason. But Bucky appeared completely controlled; without even blinking, he patiently put up with your innocent push.

“You can become my problem,” he said. If it wasn't for the fact that his calmness impressed you most of the time, you would probably find it annoying. “If Brock gets carried away by his pride, and I think that is what will happen, he won't want an alliance with us.”

“If I marry Brock, our Families won't have a good relationship anymore?” you made sure, putting it into as simple words as possible. Your brain was working at a lower and lower speed - the sleeping pills you had taken a few minutes ago were slowly starting to kick in.

Bucky nodded.

“Why won't your uncle talk to Michael?” You frowned.

“Because that's just a guess. My guess. And all Michael cares about is putting your father's business in good hands. It's the only right way to go, but he believes too much in agreements. He thinks he’ll have Rumlows’ loyalty with their signatures. But he won’t.”

You were again stepping into the sensitive area – topics you would have preferred to avoid, to get away from. But when Bucky shared with you what he thought about it all, you knew you could listen to him for hours.

You had a real intellectual in front of you; a far-sighted strategist with a nose for people. If you hadn't had several conversations with him, witnessed him speak, you wouldn't have suspected him of the brilliant way his mind worked. After all, just a moment ago he had climbed up the drainpipe into your room. He was wearing that leather jacket of his, a bruise from his clash with Brock and healing wounds on his knuckles. There was still a stubble on his face that many might call untidy; you wondered when he'd get rid of it and if he'd do it at all. You remembered that he looked a bit different in the past – much shorter hair that curled shyly into soft waves, always clean shaven. Now he seemed to wear the remains of what he had become in his absence. You didn't know him well enough, you'd never had the chance to get a good look at him, but you were amazed at how much a person can change in two years.

Bucky watched you, but he wasn't impatient with the fact that you didn't say anything, didn't refer to his last words. He probably understood that you were tired of it all.

You didn't think you could get so comfortable in his company even when you were both silent. And it seemed that Bucky felt the same way – he didn't look for an opportunity to say anything, he appeared completely relaxed, as if you had known each other for centuries.

“Would you like some tea?” You spoke.

The corners of his mouth turned up. “What about Michael? He told me to stay away.”

“And yet, here you are. Looks like you don’t mind the consequences.” You raised your eyebrows. Immediately, however, the expression on your face returned to the same gentleness of a moment ago. “Like any decent person at three in the morning, Michael is at his place,” you added, sneaking a hint, at which Bucky squinted slightly.

“In that case…” He sighed. “Tea is fine. If you don't mind the company of degenerates like me.”

“I can handle it.” You pursed your lips to hide an amused grin.

Keeping as quiet as possible, you led the way out of your bedroom, then up the stairs and eventually to the kitchen. You put the kettle on, then reached into the cupboard for a tin container of tea.

“Where do you keep your cups?” Bucky asked.

You gazed at him with confusion – you probably expected him, as a man from your environment, to sit back and idly watch what you were doing. And you wouldn't be angry about it, after all, men were in charge of much more important things; they were the providers, bringing home the money they worked hard for all day.

You blinked. “They’re just above me, but I’ll-”

Bucky stretched out towards the cupboards you mentioned, thus pushing his body involuntarily against yours. He froze for a moment, and the warmth of his torso, which you felt on your back thanks to the thin material of your robe as well as your nightgown, was enough to make a swarm of butterflies go mad in your stomach and a pleasant shiver spread through your body with a hot wave. And even though Bucky moved away, the goosebumps lingered on your skin for the next few minutes.

You turned hastily, pressing yourself to the edge of the countertop at which you were standing, and gave Bucky an almost terrified look – like an animal backed into a corner. He, too, stared at you anxiously; with fear at how such a small, insignificant gesture had caused so much. That was all it took – the glances you gave each other – for both of you to know that there had just been a slight discharge of the electricity that had hung over you from the moment Bucky appeared in your house for the first time.

Bucky glanced at your lips, but quickly looked away, ashamed and even a little concerned about what was going through his mind. You could feel your cheeks burning.

You both flinched when the kettle started to whistle. You hurriedly moved to turn it off – you didn't want to wake up the whole house. Besides, you had to get out of that situation somehow. With a trembling hand, you poured the tea into two cups and filled them with water, doing these things for longer than they required. You were unable to predict what would happen if you looked at Bucky again.

“Why exactly are you here?” you finally asked. You sounded surprisingly calm, considering what happened just a moment before.

“My mom…” he began, and you looked over your shoulder at him. “She wants you and your sister to come to our house for dinner. Claims you two could use some family time.”

Your brows drew together as you were taking in what he had just said. Perhaps it was actually about you and Suzie, or perhaps Mrs. Barnes felt it was your mother who could use some space – after all, she had lost her husband herself, and knew like no one else what it was like.

You didn't have the heart to say no. “When..?”

“This Saturday.”

You nodded carefully, still staring at him. You forgot the tea; you both did.

“You could have called. Or texted,” you said, again pushing to find out the truth. This time you were a little more determined about it; mainly because of what happened. “Why are you here?” you repeated.

Bucky clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. His face took on a particularly helpless expression. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

There was silence, and this time it turned out to be much less comfortable. It seemed that you both stopped trusting each other – stopped trusting your instincts.

The phone in Bucky's pocket buzzed; even you were able to hear it through the silence that surrounded you. He reached for it and, reluctantly taking his eyes off you, focused on the screen. “I gotta go,” he murmured. “Thanks for the tea,” Bucky added, and you glanced at the cups. “I'll see myself out. You go back to bed.”

For a brief moment you thought he wanted to take a step towards you. Eventually you decided it was just a wrong impression, so you didn't react, just folded your arms. Bucky gave you a crooked smile, then he left.

You listened to his footsteps, and when you heard the front door click, you closed your eyes and let out a heavy, shaky breath.

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