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#With His Index Finger He Used to Write on the Air…
why-me-marti · 1 hour
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My first ZSakuVA fanfic ever :) I'm a little rusty at writing because it's been a while since I wrote fanfic so I hope I captured them well enough. Also I write in 3rd person with they/them pronouns for the reader to make it inclusive and because I always wrote in 3rd person for my other fics. I'm not used to writing in 1st and 2nd person so bare with me 🙏 this fic is supposed to be gender neutral regardless of pronouns :) Be kind and please enjoy :)
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All the same
886 words
Zaros walks in on his competition doing what they do best, besides arguing with him. Serullian sword dancing.
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They dance with poise and elegance, the Serullian swords in their hands an extension of their body. They envision themselves in their robes in front of an audience, the soft instrumental music in the background increasing their focus. The only other sound that can be heard are the echos of their gentle footsteps on the floor bouncing off the walls.
They flow through the room like water in a river. Effortless and always moving. The blades flip in the hands of the wielder and cut through the air with grace. Their body, as well as the song, continue for a few beats longer before slowing to an eventual stop. The swords are lowered to their sides and they remain still with their eyes closed for a moment to hear the applause.
However, this brief moment of peace only lasts a second longer. The sound of the door closing behind them startles them out of their daydream and they quickly turn around to see who decided to interrupt them during their session. A mixture of panic and relief flows through them. Zaros stands at the edge of the room with his arms crossed, a smirk adorning his face.
"I must say, Earis. It's been a while since I last saw a performance of yours. It seems I've missed out on quite a lot."
The implications of his words make their heart race a little with nervousness at someone seeing them perform, as well as desperation for praise. But his presence is still annoying. They heave a sigh before crossing the room to place their swords on the wall where they belong with all the others.
"What do you want, Zaros?"
"Why do always assume I want something from you? Can't I simply watch you do what you do best when you're not arguing with me?"
The Earis raises their eyebrow as they face him. "Was that a compliment?"
"Hardly," he scoffs. "You know you're good at what you do. I was simply stating a fact."
Fact or not, it doesn't take away from the truth that it was indeed a compliment and that it flattered them just a little. But they don't say this out loud.
They fiddle with the signet ring on their right index finger, self-conscious with his gaze on them. They have just finished their hours-long practice; the Earis is sweating and is hardly in a presentable state for company. But here Zaros is, seeing them in all their disheveled glory.
"Watching your competition can't possibly be good news for me. Why did you come here?"
Zaros drops his arms and sighs. "Your mother was looking for you. She simply wanted to know what you were doing while I was studying in the library and she was parading the gardens.
"It's also been a while since I've toured the palace in it's entirety, so I took it upon myself to do so," he says, grabbing a towel behind him to hand to the Earis, which they accept. "I didn't think I'd stumble upon you practicing your sword dancing."
"Well, you stumbled upon me in my private practice room," they state, wiping the perspiration from their neck and brow. "You could have simply reported what I was busy with to my mother and gone back to studying, instead of bothering me in the process."
"True, but there's no fun in that now, is there?"
They roll their eyes and walk past Zaros to grab their belongings before heading for the doorway that leads to the change room.
"Besides, if I interrupted you in the middle of your dancing, I never would have seen what you're capable of now," he expresses softly, his head tilted to the right.
There's a fondness in his gaze; an emotion the Earis never would have thought to receive from him of all people. However, it disappears just as quickly as it appeared on his face, before they had the time to ingrain the way he looked at them in their memory.
"Not that it could ever beat my knowledge in Serullian history, but still admirable in it's own way."
His words avoid outright flattery in a cunning sort of way, but they can sense it all the same. Zaros can try to hide behind his wit and clever tongue, but it is obvious that after all these years apart, he missed being around them. They hope he knows that they missed him too.
"If I ever disappear again and I'm not in the library or strolling the gardens, then you know where to find me," they utter with the same softness he had in his eyes a moment before.
There's an unspoken invitation there, hidden between the lines. It's now Zaros' turn to fidget with his rings.
"Well, I don't want to keep the Queen waiting any longer. I'll see you at dinner, my dear Earis."
Back to his snarky self, he strides toward the door with the same smirk he had when he entered. The Earis pushes all the emotions from the last five minutes aside and responds with a simple nod. The two then turn away from each other, going in opposite directions.
They hope they didn't make a mistake with that offer because the Noble Trials are going to be a lot more difficult than they thought.
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I am a very slow writer but I have another Zaros fic in the works. I will most likely only write for him because he is my favourite. I hope you enjoyed and feedback is appreciated :))
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pwncez · 1 year
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  𝓈ℴ𝒻𝓉𝒽ℯ𝒶𝒹ℯ𝒹 .ᐟ
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꒰ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . ꒱ 6.3k word count , fem reader , soff’ dom nanami , bimbo / hyperfeminine reader , sex in a tent ( semi - public ) , meanie gojo , you and nanami are engaged , reader’s twenty four ( 24 ) + nanami’s twenty six ( 26 ) , pet name usage ( ex. baby, little one ) , thigh fucking , fingering , tummy bulgin , cervix kissing , daddy kink , squirting .
milkie’z note to you .ᐟ . . . hai hai haiiii :p i wrote dis like over a year ago so ,, take it easy on lil ol mi<3 i noticed dat my writing style has changed a bit ! minors do not interact !
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“do you have everything?”
the sharp clicks of your five inch, baby pink, platformed jimmy choo heels are rhythmic as they tap quickly against the curved, grey cemented footpath in front of your home that leads towards the driveway as you saunter towards your fiancé’s big bodied mercedes-benz gls class truck. you can hear the shuffles and shifts of duffel bags and the wheels of your pink, vintage, dior suitcases and carry ons rolling that nanami had been lugging behind you.
retorting through a gentle coo, you give a, “i have everything nanami,” watching him haul all of your luggage towards the trunk of the car. his muscles flex and constrict underneath the silk, cranberry red button up shirt he wore as he stacks them all atop his two duffel bags like a complex game of tetris and you tilt your head in interest when a piece of blond hair falls across his forehead within his moil and effort.
you can’t help but notice it. he’s so handsome.
releasing a weighty huff from his chest before slamming the trunk closed, nanami dusts off his hands and fixes you with a calm, albeit subtly knowing, honey-brown eyed stare that makes you nibble on the tip of your tapered square acrylic and give him a delicate, innocent smile.
“do you have everything?” he repeats more slowly.
your smile lessens into puffed cheeks and a pout, “yes, i have everything. i think i’d know if i missed something, ‘m not dumb kento—“
“—the minute this car,” he points to it. “leaves this driveway,” his finger flicks downward to the cement, “i’m not turning back. so,” his steps are idle and steady once he starts to walk closer to you. he brings with him an air of effortless authority and sway that makes your knees almost buckle. he smells delicious, too — like, a tinge of burnt vanilla and woodsy tobacco. your eyes are hazy and unfocused when you have to lift them to look up to his tall, six foot height.
nanami notices this and it doesn’t take him by surprise. it’s often more than not that he has to snap his fingers or grip you by the chin with two fingers to center you back down to earth’s gravity. you’re a mess. “do . . . you . . . have . . . everything?” he asks you softly with his index’s knuckle holding your chin up to demand your full, undivided attention. your soft nod is more than enough for him. but you’re his mess.
his voice is still gentle when he mutters, “okay.”
he should probably let you go and open the door so that you two can head out on the road, nevertheless, still, nanami can’t exactly help it. with you this close, he gets a good look at your pretty, no, fucking enchanting face — from your plush lips glittering with your favorite, piña colada scented gloss and the pearls studded along your eyelids that fall into half lids into your irises. “why are you so perfect, hm?”
you grow flustered. you give a tiny squeak and giggle, throwing your arms over his strong shoulders and kick a leg up as you do. the kiss you press against his lips has a bright smack of lipgloss transferring onto them which, oddly, nanami is used to by now. he doesn’t bother to wipe it off, just opens the passenger side’s door so that you can hop up and slide inside the fine, leather interior, then shuts it so that he can round the car and slip into the driver’s.
“i’m so excited,” you’re babbling to him while fluffing your hair and gazing at your reflection through the sun visor’s mirror. “we’re gonna eat s’mores and sing songs and . . .” your words trail off.
nanami thinks it’s because you don’t know what else there is to do. this was your first time going camping — it’s to be expected. “uh,” he rotates the wheel with the heel of his palm while turning onto the freeway’s ramp entrance. “i think you’ll like catching fireflies . . we can go out on a midnight swim in the lake, stargaze—“
“—no,” you whine and fold your arms. “baby, w-wait, i forgot my phone — oh, god, and my lipgloss . . .”
nanami should’ve known. no matter how many times he asked did you have everything, and no matter how many times you answered yes, he should have gone, combed through the house and checked himself. he shakes his head, eyes steady and focused on the road. “i’m not going back,” is all he tells you.
“but nanami—“
“—what did i tell you?” he spares a quick glance at you, not shocked to see a precious, little face full of dejection staring back at him. “i asked you did you have everything, three times. no,” his head shakes again and leans back to start to steer the wheel from atop with one hand while the other arm leans on his door’s armrest. “i’m not going back.”
“. . . kentoooo.”
nanami tells himself that he needs to put his foot down with this one. he won’t give in. he won’t. he won’t.
but you’re something else.
there’s something about you that makes the man bend and succumb to your every desire and wish, no matter how far out or bizarre. he’s aware that not much of anything resides within that pretty head of yours. you weren’t the smartest, or if you could have put it, ‘the sharpest light bulb in the shed’ ( point proven ) but you were his and nanami adored you even so. it’s why he slid a four carat diamond ring on that little finger of yours only two years after meeting you for the very, first time.
you had came from a very affluent and well-fixed family — father was the chief financial advisor of a banking corporation and your self-acclaimed hippie of a mother owned a line of essential oils that both housewives and single men alike adored. you had grown up with a golden spoon in your mouth to put straightforwardly, and upon first encounters at a charity gala, nanami had only spoke two sentences to you before he was calling you a spoiled brat with a vacant, impassive expression steamed upon the sharp lines and ridges of his gorgeous face.
you threw a little tantrum, of course — told your daddy on him which, let’s face it, was the most ridiculous and yet, amusing, thing he’s ever seen in all of his, then, twenty four years on earth. ditzy you. you hadn’t known that nanami had met your father before, albeit a few times, and the two of them had formerly established a nice and civil relationship between one another. your face dropping into one of dumbfoundment when you had saw the two shake hands and pick up a conversation on stocks and rising taxes still replays in nanami’s head from time to time.
“you’re the best!” you’re leaning over the middle console to smack a soft kiss into the light scruff of ashen blond hair making home along his jawline when nanami’s climbing back into the car thirty minutes later with your pink iphone and three tubes of lipgloss in hand. “thank you, my love.”
he gives you a simple sigh, “this is the first and last time i’m turning back, do you hear me?”
the hour and a half drive up to the state’s forest is spent with the two of you listening to your customized, ariana grande playlist and you pointing your finger against the window and gasping with glee when you happen to pass a field of cows or horses — tiny, “nanami, nanami! look, look!”s pushing past your lips and him humming and giving you a nod with a slight, “i see, baby.”
having nanami’s big hand clutch your thigh and getting to sit pretty beside him are the only reasons why you enjoy car rides. usually, you’re insufferable. it’s hard for you to keep still sometimes. at home you’re always in the kitchen whipping up new recipes you found on pinterest, irregardless of the fact that you have to run back and forth between it and nanami’s home office to ask him what two thirds of a cup was and what was the point of following the recipe step by step. it had indicated for you to bake the cake at two hundred degrees but you wouldn’t be anything if you weren’t impatient. cranking the heat up to four hundred wouldn’t be that big of a deal, right? it’ll speed up the process.
safe to say, there’s been more than a few instances where all of the windows within your home had to stay opened all night to allow the smell of burnt batter to air out, and nanami keeps a fire extinguisher on hand underneath the sink.
you get to stare at him, too — get to sit and admire his flawless side profile and how his favorite, bronzed rolex wrapped around his wrist gleamed a bright flare into your eyes each occasion the sun’s rays hit it when he happened to turn the wheel. and within the smattery cosmic of your mind upon staring at him for too long, you’re always reminded that you hadn’t known what love had felt like until you met nanami kento.
the words he whispers to you underneath the silent comfort of your bed sheets gives sweet, candied fruit and glacé sorbet a run for their money. the way he kisses your temple when he gathers you within the opulence of his arms is incapable of comparison, nonetheless still, the feeling that blooms within the gates of your heart when he does reminds you of a steaming hot trill of jasmine tea sliding down your throat during a cold day in december. he’s simply everything to you and he makes sure you know that you’re everything to him and more.
“oi! nanami, you’re almost two hours fuckin’ late.”
the sound of shoes scraping against loose pebbles and gravel doesn’t mix well with your whines and aggravated huffs. you’re struggling to walk up the short hill that surfaces out into an open, even plane of dirt that spreads out about five yards length and width — surrounding your campsite is nothing but tall trees of cedar and pine.
gojo had lifted open the flap of the dome tent that had been assembled near the entrance of the trail. he lets out a long, low whistle upon the view of nanami lugging up three duffel bags and two carry ones over his back and arms and places his hands on his hips. gojo gives a bright smile. “that’s what i like to see. you’re working the hell out of him — ah, nanami would you like some help?”
before nanami can cut his eyes at him in annoyance, gojo’s blatantly ignoring him and offering you a hand to help you not twist an ankle on a random stone. he’s laughing when he asks you, “any higher heels and you could’ve broke your neck.”
your eyes are full of fear when they look up into his at the simple thought of that happening, “you think so? should i . . should i have not worn these? but all i brought were heels.”
“you’re fine,” nanami lets the baggage fall to the ground with dull thuds and scowls at gojo. “i’ll carry you on my back if we happen to walk a long distance.”
utahime’s exiting the pop up tent that had been constructed a few feet away from gojo’s and she’s smiling upon the view of you two and immediately pulling you in for a warm hug, “it’s always so nice to see you,” she sighs. “oh!“ her eyes widen upon her first view of an influx of pink suitcases and bags while nanami crouches low to unzip a duffel to start constructing the tent. “you brought a lot.”
“i had to,” you bite your bottom lip over a pretty grin. “you didn’t? but . . — nanami am i the only one who brought so many things?” your eyes are cutely wide with the new revelation.
gojo nods, “yes.”
though at the same time nanami tells you, “no,” he even looks up at you from what he’s doing to assure you that. “you brought just enough, angel.”
and his word is always right. your pretty face brightens again and you clap your hands quickly, “okay, good,” you giggle. “can i help you build the tent?”
nanami’s giving you the go ahead, allowing you to walk over and grab the pamphlet of instructions. upon first opening it, you’re greeted with black and white pictures of what was supposed to be in the kit and there’s arrows pointing to where and how you’re supposed to assemble poles and hooks. your brain quickly goes haywire. “hm,” you bite your bottom lip.
gojo’s calling out, “ah, don’t stress yourself out too much, sweetheart.”
you huff a pout and nanami’s letting a small smile lift his lips as he gently pries the pamphlet from your manicured fingers. truthfully, he just wanted to see how you’d react to them, see if you’d try to stick it out and try to understand them or not. he knows that you will, you always try to, however, “i got it,” he takes one of your hands and pulls it close to stow a sweet kiss upon your knuckles. “why don’t you go rest your pretty feet in utahime’s tent while i get finished with ours, huh?”
the sugarcoated pout that takes over your lips has nanami’s heart in a vise. “but . . i want to help. i’m not dumb, kento—“
“—i know you aren’t but, still this is hard and i don’t want you fussing over this, beautiful. gotta save all that intellect for later on in our trip.”
he always knows what to say. your pout starts to lift into a smile which you try to fight but he sees right through it. as much as you know you can be a little dense headed, you try just as hard to power through it. nanami thinks it’s cute. his eyes glow akin to seas of liquid gold when he smiles and kisses your knuckles again. “go on.”
you sigh a little, “fine.”
the minute you’re inside the tent with utahime, nanami’s smile is falling upon first look at gojo. “one more slick comment and your head’s going to be floating in that fucking lake.”
there’s a big, gum-showing smile stretching his cheeks as the man leisurely walks over to nanami who starts to separate the materials into separate piles. “two years, man . . and you’re engaged to her,” he sucks his teeth and crouches down beside him. “gotta give you your props, nanami.”
“just admit it, satoru,” nanami doesn’t need the instructions. he flicks them away with a finger and starts to assemble the tent as if he had done it dozens times before. “you’re mean to my fiancé because you want to fuck her.”
the splutters that follow nanami’s words are loud however, both men know that they are true. gojo acknowledges that there’s no point in lying. once nanami kento has his mind made up about something, there’s no point in trying to change it. “so what?” is all he says while childishly flinging a pebble nanami’s way so that it hits his arm. “she’s pretty . . and she’s dumb. what more can you ask f—“
gojo prides himself on having quick reflexes . . and nanami does the same.
the second the blond reaches out to snatch his neck up and around so that his arm is wrapped around it and gojo’s in a headlock, the other man is tilting his body weight back so that nanami falls flat on his back and he has his arms wrapped around his legs to keep him from kicking.
“let me go.”
“you let go first.”
gojo digs his fingernails into nanami’s forearm but his grip is only tightening. he’s hardly able to breathe, let alone talk. “. . f-fuck, alright! sorry, sorry!”
“for what?”
gojo holds his tongue and nanami pulls his arm tighter around his neck by tugging at it with his free hand. “s-shit!” gojo hisses. “damnit, nanami! your girl—“
“—wife,—“
“—alright, your fucking wife! i won’t act like a dick anymore.”
both men release each one another simultaneously. gojo rubs his neck with a slight smirk on his face while nanami goes back to assembling the tent calmly. “what kind of pussy does she own?”
the sharp, thunderous crack of nanami’s knuckles colliding into the bridge of gojo’s nose is loud enough for a flock of birds perched a few trees away to squawk and quickly soar away with heavy wings flapping against their bodies.
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you had thought that camping would be like how it was portrayed in movies and television shows; with everyone in the group circling around the fire singing songs, eating hotdogs, just having a grand time.
you hadn’t expected this.
it’s only day two of the trip and you’ve been bitten at the ankle and collarbone of all places by pesky mosquitos, your hair’s been frizzing up due to the humidity of being so high up in the forest, and you’ve barely been sleeping the past two nights because all you hear are cicadas and the constant, piercing shrill of crickets. sometimes, you think they’re going to slither underneath the protective flaps and layering of the tent and crawl inside of your mouth.
you’re sobbing to nanami come evening of day three, “baby . . baby, look at me! i’m a mess!”
nanami’s clicking his tongue fondly and pulling you by the waist so that you stand between his legs. he’s seated on the full sized cot inside of your tent that you had cutely decorated with plush throw blankets and fluffy pillows layering the flooring. you’ve never missed your california king sized bed more than you did now. “no, you don’t—“
“—these bites are itchy,” you reach up to scratch at the stupid nip focused right near the edge of your left collarbone that seemed to be growing and becoming more irritated by the hour. “and . . and as much as i like showering in the pretty waterfall, i miss bubble baths and eating steak and steamed lobster and caviar with crackers.”
nanami’s looking up at your pout and he tries to fight it, he does, but he can’t help but break out into a smile which he quickly hides by bowing his head and clearing his throat. unfortunately, you still catch it. you smack his shoulder, “can you stop laughing at me?”
“i’m not, i’m not. look at me,” he’s gathering your attention and grabs you by the waist to pull you in again and kiss your tummy softly. “i told you to stop scratching them. you’re only going to make them bleed.”
you watch him reach for the first aid kit he had placed underneath the cot to unfasten and grab a small tube of benadryl which he opens and dots a good amount on his finger. “c’mere.”
you have to take a seat on the thigh of one of his legs so that he’s able to rub the cooling gel over the bite and massage it in. it’s so comforting — the feeling of the sharp sting slowly dwindling and ebbing away into nothing, as well as nanami’s palm, slightly calloused from past years of sorcery work rubbing into your skin. unknowingly, you melt into him and nanami notices. “feels good?” he asks you delicately, watching you pout and nod and lay the side of your face against his shoulder. “i think you just had a long day, sweet girl,” he sighs.
you have a feeling that he’s right . . nanami always is.
“how about you get some rest, hm?” he kisses your temple after he rubs the medication into the bite on your ankle. you don’t bother to fight.
you slip into your pajamas on your own and climb underneath the comforter to lay your head on a pillow. it has been a long day. usually you fight your sleep however tonight, it washes over you without a blink missed. even so, you don’t overlook the soft kiss your fiancé presses against your cheek as you let the dark cloaks of slumber enfold you.
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with you going to sleep so early, the end of your last rem cycle wakes you up at approximately 4.17 am, giving you a good nine hours of sleep you hadn’t even known you needed — furthermore proving that nanami knows best.
the man lays beside you, fast asleep, facing you with a bare arm thrown over your torso, keeping you close against his own chest. in the quiet of the early morning, you’re able to lay and stare at him without shying away from his eyes that always seemed to bore holes into your own.
you’re able to carefully lift your hand and trace invisible lines around the natural, soft arch of his brow, the strong, straight, downward slope of his nose, and across the plush dip of his cupidsbow with your small fingers. he’s so . . . pretty, so . . . strong. he always manages to make you feel protected, even so with just one arm wrapped around you. the joy that sprouted in your heart when he had proposed to you stays unmatched to this day.
him? he wanted you to be his wife? to love, to cherish, to hold past the end of time, to grow old with, to go on crazy, little adventures with, to have kids with? you?
the one who had always been the butt of jokes as a little girl, the one who had countless of men wanting to bed but not wed since the age of eighteen. you didn’t understand. in a way, you still don’t, albeit, you’ve learned to push those thoughts aside and focus on the now. you have him and he has you.
with a smile, you kiss his lips.
you keep kissing him until he starts to kiss you back, and though he’s making little grunts and grumbles at having his sleep disturbed, you ignore them because you just can’t help it. sometimes the happiness just hits you in your chest with a big surge and you have to let it out.
you drag your left leg up his hip to hold and tilt your body weight so that you flip him over onto his back and end up straddling him. nanami’s looking up at you through foggy eyes and you’re staring down at him with a big grin. “it’s . .” he reaches for his phone on the floor, powers it on then squints at the screen. “four in the morning, little one. what’s goin’ on?”
“nothin’,” you sing softly and slide your hands slowly up the rocky plane of his abs to his pectorals. “i just . . i missed you.”
nanami’s confusion is written all over his face. he’s not much of a morning person, you know this. “. . i’m right here.”
he is. all blond haired, brown eyed, six feet of him.
you sigh and lean down to capture his lips with yours once more, cupping the side of his face with one of your palms, feeling the scruff of his five o’clock shadow underneath it. you hope he’s able to feel the love you have for him pouring out of you with each click of your lips separating, and at the way you sigh out sweetly through your nose in content, and when your hips start to rock against his firm morning wood, hidden underneath his sweats. for what you’re unable to describe through words, you make sure he’s able to feel it.
“oh, i get it now,” he says. his voice is hushed.
surrounding your tent is nothing but silence, save for the slight rush of water from the waterfall a couple yards away. it’s deadly quiet.
nanami can see that his baby wants, though. can see it in the way your eyes go half lidded and you pull your thumb up to nibble on the nail when he grabs you by the hips, lifts his thigh up and starts to make you rub your needy, little cunt over it.
“a-awh!”
nanami covers your entire mouth with his palm. your eyes are big. “shh, shshsh,” he whispers. there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “i know it’s hard for you to understand words when you get like this. isn’t that right?”
you nod shakily.
“but you have to be quiet, you hear me?”
you nod once more. nanami trusts you. he drops his hand to have it grab your hips again to work you steadily back and forth, back and forth. his pace is unhurried . . he works you as if there’s a slow tune playing in the background that only he hears and knows. it feels good. the much needed friction of the lace of your panties and the cotton of his sweats rubbing up against your clit already has your eyes going bleary and unfocused as you look down at him.
“keep lookin’ at me — that’s right,” nanami still feels the tinctures of sleep passing through his veins. it has his own eyes growing heavy and his limbs feel like they weigh a ton, however if anything, the drowsiness makes this feel better. he’s able to slowly lower his thigh to instead shift you over his cock and you, already so dumb, simply sit on it, waiting for him to buck you back and forth again. “can you take this off for me?” he tugs at the button down you wore that belonged to him. it’s oversized — hangs off of your body like a duvet, stopping near the beginning of your knees and continuously slipping off of the hill of your shoulder.
your little fingers work hurriedly and your acrylic nails tap and click against each other as you do. with each strip of skin that’s shown, he feels his brain spiraling deeper and deeper into a portion full of nothing but you.
nanami prides himself on being an intelligent man. having gone to one of the top universities in the country, secured a job as a stockbroker, and he’s still on call for the occasional curse job here and there; he’s aware that he’s very well rounded.
but around you . . . sometimes, he’ll admit, he goes a little dumb, too.
“fuck.” it shows when he makes his hand fall down upon your ass with a loud smack that makes you yelp and he’s positive gojo and utahime must’ve heard it. “mmm.”
he groans, lifts up and plants a kiss right over your heart before he’s stamping a path to one of your nipples and collecting it inside of his mouth. you’re whimpering quietly, holding onto his shoulders and now beginning to swirl your hips over his cock to feel more. “daddy.”
nanami rolls the small bud over his tongue and lightly pulls it with his teeth until it’s hard, standing upright, and laminated with his spit. only then, does he turn to the other to give it the same attention.
you’re hiccuping now, bucking a little harder which makes the cot start to creak.
“mm — be still,” nanami’s voice comes out in a low gruff that makes you obey, even if you really, really didn’t want to. his tongue is clever and his teeth are sharp . . they nip and bite all over your tits and neck until bruises the tone of maroon and wine bloom all over the canvas of your skin. nanami can’t help but smack one, just to watch the flesh jiggle before he’s laying back down, pulling you with him, and rolling you over until you both are laying on your sides.
you don’t need him to ask, or rather, you’re too eager to do it yourself, but you push down his sweats just enough for his cock to spring up and out into the open air. it hits his lower tummy with a slap . . long, thick, and drooly; you scoot closer to nanami to grab it and carefully slide it between the small opening of your thighs, watching his eyes close at the feel.
“oh, shit,” he groans and carefully starts to thrust his hips while holding yours to keep you still. the tightness the smooth, soft skin of your thighs provide him with is heavenly. “already doin’ so good for me. just . . k-keep still, let daddy use you for a little while, huh?”
you’re letting out these little pants because with each thrust, your clit’s still getting stimulated by the roof of his cock and it’s just enough for your eyes to roll back into your skull as your mouth falls open. “feels . .” you swallow the glob of saliva pooling on your tongue. “f-feels s’good, daddy.”
hazy, lust filled eyes usually the tone of honey darken into a more muddy gold. they dart over your blissed out face, your bruised tits jiggling and squishing down into the bed with each movement of your arms, and the lewd image of his cock pressing in between the doughy skin of your thick thighs. nanami can cum from the sight alone.
“nanami . .” you’re gasping when he picks up a quicker rhythm, eyes lifting to look up into his.
“so fucking loud.”
his next movements are quick. he pulls his cock from between your thighs, snatches down your panties which don’t even make it past one of your calves; just stays wrapped and tangled around it, then he’s flipping you over and pulling your back into his chest. you’re panting, needy body wriggling and squirming against him. you want him . . . you need him. nanami kento to you is what pollen is to a bee, flame to a moth, gravity is to everything on fucking earth. “please,” you’re sobbing. “please, daddy. p-please.”
“fuck are you whining for, huh?”
his words are mean but his voice is gentle and sweet. he licks his fingers and carefully directs them between your legs, not surprised to feel you absolutely dripping. you’re a mess. two of his fingers are sliding inside your sticky cunt with a loud squelch when they bottom out and he watches your body shiver all over as you push your ass further back to somehow feel more. “so greedy,” he whispers, fucking them in and out to hear those toe-curling, mouth-watering squelches echo inside of his ears. “so, so good for me.”
his praise makes you simultaneously melt against his body yet tighten around his fingers as a new rush of slick gushes out of you.
you can’t describe the joy you feel when he pushes his arm underneath your head to give you some leverage, lifts your leg up with the other and starts to rub his throbbing dick between your puffy lips, giving you both some well needed friction. he’s overwhelming every single one of your senses.
you smell his cologne, feel his body all over yours, taste him underneath the musk of you when he carefully slides his fingers past your lips, hear him coo’ing underneath his breath at how pretty you look.
when he finally pushes inside of you, it’s like breaking down a dam. you’re crying at the ungodly pleasure it brings, no, he brings. your dumb, little mind can’t handle it. “thank you,” you’re babbling and hiccuping. “d-daddy . . daddy—“
“—i know, baby. i know,” nanami tilts his face closer to align his lips atop of yours to swallow each little gasp and whine once he suddenly slams in. “daddy knows.” he doesn’t want to torture you any longer. you’ve been so good for him these past couple days, so good to him. you deserve this. you deserve everything your airy little brain and big, lovable heart desires.
he fucks you slow . . . and deep. carefully pulls his hips back and alternates between driving them back forward leisurely and swirling his hips to angle up into that one, gummy bundle of nerves that has a pool of drool forming underneath your chubby cheek. “that’s my good girl,” he’s whispering, holding your shaky leg up by the back of your knee so that you both can watch his fat and heavy balls smack against your swollen clit with a sticky tap each time he bottoms out. “takin’ it so good . . does it feel good?”
your nods are slow as if they’re trying to catch up with your quivering body. you’ve gone non-vocal and now nanami knows that you feel especially good. it makes him smile atop your lips before he’s pressing one last peck against them and pulling his face back to get a good look at you once his pace and strength quickens.
your mouth drops, eyebrows furrow, and cute nose scrunches up.
“there it is.”
the smacking of skin is loud and distinct, and he knows that it’s evident what you two are doing by now and he knows that you two are a little loud but nanami can’t bring himself to care about that anymore. you just feel so good. you’re tight and you’re wet and having you so close makes him feel like his heart was going to burst out of his chest and swell bigger than a balloon at the same while.
“oh god,” you’re hiccuping and holding onto the ledge of the creaking cot. “oh my . . god, kento.”
the diamond encrusted anklet around your ankle dangles the letters K&N. believe it or not, you had actually been the one to surprise nanami with it eight months ago when you came home from one of your day-long shopping sprees. seeing his initials dangling off a piece of jewelry so dainty and pretty on you had woken something inside of nanami that he hadn’t even known was dormant. each time he sees it, he wants to break you, and coincidentally, you never take it off.
nanami bends your leg almost all the way back until your thigh nears your shoulder just to hear the way the letters jingle as they hit each other. “fuck,” he curses, eyes cycling back into his head. “f-fuck.”
your moans are so pretty — high pitched, breathy, and broken. you have his hips stuttering prior to him starting to fuck you harder. you hadn’t even known he could but he’s proving you wrong at the way you can feel your ass clapping back off of his slim hips with each push of them against it. you’re babbling shaky ‘daddy’s’ and ‘t-too much’ while he just keeps you still.
his voice is trembly and quiet when he says, “a-almost there, sweet thing. you’re almost there.”
you’re going to make a mess — you feel it in the way your pedicured toes curl and how your clit seems to pulsate harder by the second. “hhnnng,” your brain is driven so empty that you can’t even say it.
your cum gushes out of you in fast, long spurts that manages to hit the floor past the edge of the bed. the rest dribbles out in ripples and tides, getting all over nanami’s balls and both of your thighs. he powers you through it; never stops nor decreases his pace, he keeps you right where he wants you, forcing you into overstimulation. you’re squeaking, “ ‘nami — daddy . . w-wait — oh, stars!”
nanami feels his own edge getting closer. he slips himself over you so that he’s on top yet he keeps your one leg up and stretched and soon grabs the other to do the same and folds you into a perfect mating press.
you have a love hate relationship with the position. you love it because you get the perfect view of your fiancés fat, long cock dropping into and pulling out of your sloppy pussy. you get to see his tummy fold as he bends to keep his neck from straining and you especially love how you can see the print of his cock pushing against the skin of your stomach, further showing you just how big he truly is.
but, still, you’re always so easily overwhelmed because with this position he digs in deep. his tender tip bumps against your cervix, rubbing up against it and your g-spot. it’s a weird feeling. sometimes, all you can sob is, “h-hurts so good.” thankfully, he understands.
“doin’ so good for me.” pieces of blond hair fall across his forehead and jump in time against it with his thrusts. the way he’s staring down at you makes you shake. “can you give me another one?” he licks his thumb before pressing it against your clit and dragging tiny, quick circles on it. “give daddy one more, princess. please, baby. just . . one more.”
you’re so weak. you can only nod wordlessly and let your body give into his. you let him fuck you until his name is the only thing that rings in your brain, until your pussy’s aching with the stretch of him battering it sore, until you’re squirting again for the second time . . getting nanami’s lower torso and your own dirty with your fluids.
you make him smile. “there we fuckin’ go.”
his own orgasm creeps up on him slow. it starts from his feet, makes him curl his toes once he feels the thick flames licking at the base of his gut before it surges up to his calves — they tense, along with his thighs. and his jaw’s clenching tighter come the swelling of his balls filling with cum. he’s gripping your thighs until they start to bruise. “fuck . . fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he’s grunting, making his hips slam into your ass at the pace of his words before ultimately, it’s hitting him with a grand slam.
his balls draw tight before the first shot of thick, opaque white is bursting inside of your womb. nanami goes scarily still and throws his head back with the muscles in his neck straining as he fucks his cum as deep as it can go with jerky little tilts of his hips.
you mewl.
you feel warm inside . . and exceptionally full.
he’s pumping you swollen, filling you up with his thick seed until he can no longer fill you anymore. “fuck,” he’s breathing hard, dropping his head and looking down at you.
you’re so fucking cute. you just . . lay there with a stupid, little smile of content on your face and hazy eyes as you massage his thighs with your small fingers as if you weren’t the one, one move away from being folded into a fucking pretzel. nanami chuckles. oddly enough, he’s thinking back to gojo’s question from earlier in the trip . . . what kind of pussy do you own? for him to feel on top of the moon like this, he’s convinced you’re just a figment of his imagination.
however, upon leaning down, kissing your lips, and intertwining his fingers between the spaces of yours, nanami knows that you’re one hundred percent true.
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❤︎ — all rights reserved ! © poutsiez !
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sanspuppet · 4 months
Note
dom!hwa with his low voice whispering dirty words into your ear while pleasuring you during a long night… (yes i’m down bad ever since i heard his rap in matz😵‍💫)
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W/T: fingering, pet names (pretty, darling), unprotected sex (don’t)
A/O: happy to see im not the only one down for him so bad lately, wtf??? he’s so fucking gorgeous in this comeback. ALSO I LOST HALF OF THE WORK because of a glitch and i was annoyed as fuck, but i tried to write it all again, hope you like it anon! thanks for the request :3
• not proofread cause here’s late and im too tired to function properly
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“Come on baby, i know you can take more than this.” Seonghwa’s laying on your body, lips near your ear as his hand’s playing with your clit. It’s been a long hour since you’re a whimpering mess, while your boyfriend’s trying to pleasure you. That’s right, he’s trying. You haven’t cum yet, and it’s driving you crazy, feeling Seonghwa’s fingers diving into your pussy but still haven’t creamed around them. “Why the fuck aren’t you cumming?” he whispers at you, a slight tone of frustration and disbelief in his voice. He’s surely more frustrated than you, you can tell it because he starts uncontrollably to exasperate. “Why? Want me to add another finger? Four fingers??”
“Should i eat you out?” “Aren’t my fingers enough for you?” you can’t deny that his whingy voice is incredibly hot, reminds you of his groans he emits while he uses to fuck you dumb. He buries again three fingers inside your pussy, sliding in and out of you faster than he did before. The sound of his palm slamming against your clit is booming inside your head. Hwa squeezes his eyes as he feels his arm burning from how quickly he’s finger fucking you, and his waist hurting as you’re gripping at it harshly, your fingertips diving into his skin. He sticks his tongue out when he feels your walls getting wetter, sighing proudly. “Is this what you want? Want me to fuck you harder?” you moan desperately, arching your back as he pulls out, your folds clenching around nothing but the air. “Keep talking” is the only thing you can articulate. “Huh?” Seonghwa rubs his index finger against your inner walls, playing with your wetness. “Is it because of my voice?” he slides out, licking joyfully your arousal off of his finger. “Yeah, fuck-“ you murmur. He intentionally groans lowly at your ear, secretly smirking as he replies you: “Didn’t know it” you bite your lower lip, your mind getting blurry from the way your body reacts to his voice. “Fuck, you always taste so good, pretty.” He leans in for a deep kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “You can’t even know how fucking hard i am” You can feel his gaze moving down your body. “Wanna ruin your pussy with my own dick.” whimpers keep leaving your mouth, wanting to feel him inside you more than anything else. “Wanna fuck you so hard, that i won’t need to stretch out your pussy before fucking you.” He gets up, and immediately positions himself between your legs. “Gonna make you cum so quickly, pretty.” his cock pops out as he drags his pants down, without even waiting a second he pulls his length inside your wet cunt, another groan escaping his mouth as he feels the warmth of your pussy embracing his dick. “Fuck, so tight.” he murmurs. You moan loudly, clenching helplessly around him. “Yeah, shit. Keep doing it darling.” Seonghwa holds your legs when he starts to slide in and out of you. He throws his head back as he tries to concentrate on the feeling of your walls wrapping around his cock without any problems.
“Ready? Imma fuck you senseless tonight.”
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pathologicalreid · 5 months
Note
Dude I love ur writing sm!! It’s literally so good and Buried Alive was amazing! If ur down for it (totally no pressure at all) I was wondering if u would eventually write a second part where Spencer helps the reader with the aftermath? Like maybe they struggle with PTSD or severe claustrophobia after that? Idk ur literally amazing enough I’m sure u have great ideas and again, it’s completely up to u, I was just wondering
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above ground | S.R.
part one part three
in which spencer helps you cope with the aftermath of your abduction, and you reciprocate
who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader
category: hurt/comfort, angst
content warnings: claustrophobia, being buried alive, nightmares/night terrors, ptsd, death, cpr, use of pet names, mentions of drugs, therapy, suffocation
word count: 2.2k
a/n: hello anon! i am absolutely always down for spencer reid hurt/comfort!! thank you so much for asking!!! i've been super overwhelmed with all of the support i've received on buried alive and i'm so so grateful for all of the kind things people have said.
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Standing in a dark room, you looked around your surroundings. There was nothing around you that told you where you were. The walls were all blank, the ground was cement, and it was too dark for you to even see the ceiling.
Hesitantly, you reached out your palm, touching the wall just for it to be met with something… damp? You pulled your hand away, and your skin came back dirty. Your stomach churned as you observed the soil that had settled in the creases of your fingerprints. “No,” you breathed, quickly moving to dig at the walls.
You felt it on your elbow next, like the dirt walls were encroaching on you. You turned around to see the dark room was just getting darker, and the walls started to deteriorate. Like an avalanche, the dirt of the walls falls to the ground, covering your feet, “No,” you cried out this time.
Digging at the walls just made your earthly prison bury you faster, so instead, you tried to climb toward the ceiling. You whimpered in defeat as you reached the previously unseen ceiling. The loose earth reached your chest, constricting your breathing. You tilted your head back in an attempt to keep the dirt out of your mouth.
Your face felt cool like a gentle breeze was being blown on it. You choked, but to your surprise, you didn’t choke on dirt.
            There were hands on you, one hand on your shoulder and another on your waist. That didn’t make sense to you, someone hauled you into a sitting position, patting your back in an attempt to help you clear your throat.
            The choking turned to coughing, which then turned to dry heaving off the edge of your bed. Very rarely did anything ever come out, but you kept a trash can there just in case. You blinked as someone reached over and turned on the lamp on your bedside table, the comforting hand remained on your back.
            Desperately, you tried to catch your breath, tilting your head back as you tried to open your airway. “You’re safe. I’m right here, angel,” Spencer whispered from behind you, he leaned his forehead between your shoulder blades and drew hearts on your back with his index finger.
            You took a deep, shuddering breath as you finally filled your lungs, visualizing the air going in and out of your body. Breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth.
            Spencer continued whispering to you, not once did he tell you that your dream wasn’t real because it was real. To you, being buried alive was very real. The suffocation was real, it had happened to you.
            Two months ago, you had been abducted and buried alive by a family, a mother and her two sons. All of whom were in jail awaiting trial. The two agents from the Omaha field office who had left you alone in the funeral home apologized profusely, you had a private meeting with the director of the FBI, and the BAU rallied behind you, it was nice, but none of it made the fear go away.
            The first nightmare came the same night you were back in Virginia, and you had screamed so loud that your neighbors called the police. Spencer handled everything, and when the officers insisted that they needed to speak to you directly, he flashed his FBI credentials, something he really wasn’t supposed to do.
            Your response was to avoid sleeping, at least at night. You stayed awake at night, reading, or watching TV with headphones on, and you slept during the day so that when you opened your eyes, you could feel the sun on your face. The problem was when you needed to go somewhere, you didn’t sleep, or when it rained, you didn’t sleep.
            The exhaustion just made your anxiety worse, and Spencer caught on to it. He sat you down on the couch and held your hands, telling you that he understood that you didn’t want to feel like you were burdening anyone with your nightmares, but he needed you to understand that you were killing yourself at the same time.
            He didn’t do it for everyone, but for you, Spencer took over the role of protector. He found you a therapist in the district that specialized in patients with PTSD and claustrophobia. It was an hour round trip, but Spencer was more than willing to take you the first few times.
            Dr. Montgomery quickly diagnosed you with PTSD and claustrophobia. You hadn’t realized that claustrophobia was something you could be clinically diagnosed with, but the doctor told you that there’s a difference between a fear of enclosed spaces and what you had. He was straightforward, which you liked, and he told you that your claustrophobia was a response to the traumatic event that you had experienced.
            A steady course of treatment that included medication and exposure therapy had slowly been giving you your life back.
            But then there was Spencer.
            Spencer had Morgan help him take the inside doors of your apartment off the hinges so air would flow, and you wouldn’t be afraid of suffocating. He left the ceiling fan in your bedroom on even as the weather cooled so the air never got stale.
            Six weeks ago, you had mentioned offhandedly that you were having a hard time sleeping in total silence, and Spencer had come home later with a white noise machine.
            When you apologized to him for needing the lights on to sleep, he responded by stringing lights around the entire apartment, telling you he read that warm light can help prepare the mind and body for sleep.
            He turned in all of his PTO, even accepting some from David Rossi, who didn’t use his anyway, so he could stay home with you while you were on mandatory medical leave. He tagged along to therapy appointments, to the neurologist, and even to the FBI physician who needed to clear your physical injuries to your ribs before you could return to the field.
            On his nightstand, there was a stack of books all about claustrophobia and loving someone with PTSD.
            Not once through this whole endeavor did you question your relationship with Spencer, he made himself perfectly clear through his actions. He wasn’t going anywhere.
            The FBI physician cleared you two weeks ago, your neurologist faxed Hotch paperwork stating you were without any deficits, and your psychiatrist told you that as long as you felt like you could avoid your triggers, you should be able to go back to work. In fact, Dr. Montgomery thought going back to work could be beneficial.
            You were supposed to go back tomorrow.
            Spencer was now sitting in front of you, and he offered you a small smile as you blinked yourself out of your nightmare-induced stupor and met his eyes, “There’s my girl,” he whispered. For a moment, you focused on his movements, smoothing your hair back with one hand and leaving the other hand resting on your waist. “I love you. You’re safe, you’re at home with me,” he reassured you.
            You narrowed your eyebrows, “It was- I was in the ground again.” Hesitantly, you looked down at your hands, they were perfectly clean, not a speck of dirt to be seen.
            “It was a night terror, angel,” he said, speaking gently to you as he reached over and pulled the strap of your tank top up and over your shoulder from where it had fallen. A night terror, not a nightmare.
            Tears dropped down your face when you closed your eyes. “I couldn’t breathe,” you whimpered. Taking a gasping breath, you looked at Spencer as you tried to draw air into your lungs, “I couldn’t breathe, Spence. I couldn’t breathe.”
            Quickly, Spencer pulled you into his lap and held you, “Shh,” he cooed. “I’ve got you, my love. I’m right here,” he murmured as you set your chin on his shoulder and cried.
            “I suffocated,” you whispered, it was a fact of your life, that you had stopped breathing for a period of time. The doctors estimated you had been down for almost ten minutes.
            His hold on you tightened, “I know,” his voice broke slightly. “I know, baby,” he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “What do you need?” He asked, watching you intently as he reached up and used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away your tears.
            You blinked the last of your tears from your eyes before meeting his, “Can we go outside?” You asked him, placing your hands on both of his shoulders.
            Spencer nodded, leaning over to grab his glasses off of his nightstand before standing up and picking you up as he went.
            Instinctively, you yelped, but a laugh escaped your lips. It was a foreign feeling sometimes, but Spencer always knew how to elicit a smile from you. “Put me down,” you said, but your tone was light.
            Once your feet were touching the ground, Spencer looked at you, “I just wanted to see you smile.” He said earnestly.
            Despite yourself, the corner of your mouth quirked up, “Thank you.” You reached over to grab your phone off the charger and slide it into your pocket before you led Spencer out to your apartment’s balcony. He sat down on one of the chairs and pulled you down onto his lap.
            You let him hold you, not moving and just letting your body settle on top of his. The cool autumn air filled your lungs as Spencer held you. You let him hold you because you knew that his fear was just as valid as yours. While you were afraid of confinement because you had been confined, he was afraid of you dying because you had died.
            “I can hear you thinking, honey,” you whispered, leaning your head on his shoulder. “What’s on your mind?” You asked him, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers together.
            He sighed, “I’m worried about you,” he admitted. “I want to tell you not to go back to work yet, even though I know that logically it’s the next step for you,” Spencer said, you watched his honey-colored eyes as they studied your face. “And I know that you need it, you need to return to something dependable.”
            You move your head so you can look him in the eyes better, “But?”
            “But,” he continued, “the BAU isn’t dependable. You have this great routine that we’ve very nearly perfected and I’m so worried about you straying from it. The long hours at work could very well cause you to lose all of the progress you’ve made in the last two months,” he tells you candidly. “What happens when you need to get on an elevator, or when you need to get on the jet, and you can’t? What about when you-“ He cut himself off, swallowing thickly before he said something he couldn’t take back.
            You shifted so you were facing him, shoulder to shoulder, “What is it, Spence?”
            He took a deep breath and cupped your cheek with his hand, “The last case you worked on, you died. I pulled your dead body out of a casket. Fuck, Y/N,” his curse took you aback, he usually strayed from swearing. “I did CPR on you before Morgan took over,” he finished, voice growing hoarse.
            Your lips parted; you couldn’t answer him. You didn’t know how to answer him, but you took his hand and selected his third and index finger before pressing them to the pulse point on your wrist. In response, he sighed and leaned his forehead to yours. You watched his lips move as he silently counted the beats per minute.
            The both of you jumped when your phone went off, and dread filled your stomach when you checked your phone.
            Penelope Garcia: Local case. Round table room in thirty if you’re up for it.
            “If you ask me to stay home, I will,” you told Spencer, sweeping his curls behind his ears. “I won’t hold it against you, I’ll tell Hotch I need more time.”
            Spencer shook his head, “You know I can’t do that. I can’t make that decision for you, and I don’t want you to make the decision for me, you need to choose what you want.”
            You both went, Spencer distracted you for the entire elevator ride up to the BAU, but he was still tense. Even though he insisted he was fine, you knew him better than that.
Spencer followed you up to Hotch’s office and when you told Hotch you wanted to work but you didn’t feel ready to be in the field, your unit chief nodded and told you that you were welcome to stay in the local precinct and work on a geographical profile with Spencer.
            You watched the tension leave Spencer’s body. He tried to tell you that you didn’t need to do that, but you just rolled your eyes and dragged him to the roundtable room.
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luveline · 5 months
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I don’t really have a request I just love anything you write💗 maybe something with girly!reader?
thanks lovely💗
Spencer wrings his hands behind his back, shifting from one foot to the other unhappily. He hasn't felt this nervous since he was young —his PhDs have acted as a shield for years now. Even if he doesn't know what to do, he physically cannot be stupid. 
He feels pretty stupid. Less when you look up, smile blinding and sticky with gloss. He's thought about how it would feel to kiss you before and he tries desperately to push the thought away now, his hands shaking where they're hidden. 
"Hey, Spencer Reid," you say, lightly teasing as you wave him toward you. "How are you?" 
"I'm good." 
"Yeah?" You gesture at the empty seat in front of you. "Are you having lunch?" 
The bureau cafeteria is less of a cafeteria in the kitchen sense and more of a staff room, though hot food is served at the very back. There are couches toward the patio of an outdoor area to the left. You sit at one of the tables near the doors. The air is cold around his ankles as he sits with you. 
"No, I– I came down for coffee, but the jug is empty." It's a bad lie. Luckily you have no idea that there's a kitchen in the BAU offices. "You're not?" 
You turn your laptop screen to him. "I ate my lunch at my desk. I'm just catching up with my show." Your laptop has stickers around the screen, silver shiny stars and tiny pink hearts that look like they're made of jelly. There's a closed bottle of nail polish resting near the keyboard. "And I'm gonna touch up my nails, too. They're always chipping." 
"They look perfect to me," Spencer says. 
You beam at him, beatific, so, so pretty, he could die. He might. "Thanks, honey. You'd look cute with painted nails, have you ever thought about it?" 
Spencer honestly forgets about his nails. He should take better care of them. He thinks about hiding them under the desk. "I don't think I could do it." 
"No one's good at it, at first. I'd paint them for you, if you wanted. I have a couple of things in my bag." 
Spencer's relieved to present freshly trimmed nails to you for painting. Your polish is a light blue colour, milky, and he assumes it'll be the one you use on him, but you decide to ruin his life, taking his hand into one of yours. You hold his fingers in a way that presents the nail as you brush cuticle oil around the edges of his nails with a small pen brush. You chatter as you do in your way, all sweet and gentle in mirror of your touch. 
He's proud of himself for keeping his cool. To have you touching him for so long, so kindly, to have your attention, it has him squirming with a mixture of pleasure and horror. He wants to be seen by you but he doesn't know if he likes what you're looking at. 
"You have really lovely hands," you say, using the tip of one of your nails to scrape stray wet polish off of his skin, "do you play piano?" 
"You can tell?" he asks. 
"Pianist's fingers," you say. "That's a thing, isn't it?" 
"I haven't played much since I was younger. I got distracted by other stuff." 
"Maths," you surmise. "And criminology?" 
Everything. He pushed away a want for human connection with books and education until it got too much. Even the wisest of honeybees will brave heavy rain for a beautiful flower, and that's sort of how he feels about you. He knows it's stupid, knows it's doomed, but he couldn't not try to speak to you. You're the prettiest girl he's ever seen, all your lip colours and shimmery eyeshadows, the chirpy way you talk, the earnestness of your please and thank yous. 
Your hands. The silver ring on your index finger dotted with tiny pink stones. Your bracelets. The smell of your perfume and your soft sweaters. 
"Done," you announce, an uncharacteristic hesitance to your tone. "Are they okay?" 
You've done a perfect job. "They're so neat. Thank you. I– I love it." 
Your eyes linger on his hands. "I love when guys wear nail polish. You're even handsomer now, it's crazy. I didn't know it was possible." 
Spencer should have more style for sure, but he asks you to dinner right then and there. 
You smile until the lashes kiss in the corners of your eyes and say yes. This new place opened just around the corner from your apartment, and you've been trying to drum up the courage to ask him all week. When Spencer hears that he almost passes out. 
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jeonqbunny · 5 months
Text
do it slowly
suguru geto x f!reader smut ♡
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summary: your childhood friend suguru geto comes home for summer break after 2 long years of being away at college <3
content warning: soft dom!suguru x sub!f!reader, smut, porn w a plot, hair pulling, oral m!receiving, unprotected sex (he pulls out), uses of petnames (pretty girl, sweetheart, princess), biker suguru implied, quite a bit of fluff included.
word count: 6.1k (yappatron 6000 jesus christ </3)
today is my bday and i rlly hate this, but it took me so mf LONG to write.
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about a year and a half have passed since you last saw suguru; the heat of the summer bringing back childhood memories of you two playing outside, be it in the trees around your house or running through the sprinklers in the lawn. you can’t help but sigh lightly, you miss him. he went out of state for college after graduation while you decided to stay back at home with your parents, it’s been lonely without him.
despite the air conditioner going full blast your forehead is still damp from the humid air of summer, reminding you of a fan you have on your desk that you could probably bring over to your bed. sitting up, you feel the immediately recognizable buzz of your phone on your thigh as you quickly snatch it up and see you have a text. it’s from satoru.
your prior mission of using the fan completely slipped your mind as you swiped the notification away rather quickly, readjusting yourself to lay down before opening it. your eyes narrowed at the message, your nerves immediately rising to the ceiling and beyond. “suguru is coming back for summer break?” you asked yourself out loud, chewing on the tip of your index finger as you reread the text over and over again. it was exciting, to say the least. seeing him again this soon was not something you exactly expected, but you weren’t complaining.
you read further to find out satoru was going to host a surprise “welcome home” party for him. this didn’t surprise you, though. satoru is suguru’s bestfriend, and ever since he left it’s just been you and him. the idea of all of you being back together again excited you, and you were curious to see how much suguru has grown. if he aged even half as well as satoru did, then he would be more than a little attractive.
you replied to satoru, informing him that you would be attending and helping him set up for it. after all, suguru was your beloved friend too. though you haven’t seen him since he left, unlike satoru who flew out quite often to see him with his daddy’s money. the last you heard, suguru had a girlfriend and was doing very well in his studies. 
you got ready to head over to satoru’s place to set up for suguru’s surprise party, picking up streamers and other corny party decorations on your way. you walked up to satoru’s front door, pretty much buried in all the decorations you bought as you struggled to hold yourself upwards. you let out an annoyed grunt at how long satoru took to open the door before you finally heard the door unlock and fling open. there he stood, his tall lanky figure resting against the door frame with an amused grin pulling at his lips.
“wow, you look like you’re really struggling there y/n.” he chuckled deeply, reaching forward and grabbing a couple boxes before stepping to the side to allow you space to enter his house. you let out a relieved huff when you set it all down on the table, finally being able to stand up straight. you glared at the snowy haired man, the urge to slap his cocky ass grin off of his face nearly consuming your entire being, but you decided on mercy.
“so what kind of party is this gonna be anyway? just a kick back with all of our friends or are you going to be extra like you always are?” you queried with a mocking tone, your gaze fixing up into satoru’s cerulean eyes through your eyelashes. 
satoru simply reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, a weak smile plastered on his glossy lips. “of course it’s going to be extra. you already know i wouldn’t have it any other way.” he snickered, his large hand coming up to his mouth in a mischievous manner. you couldn’t do anything but sigh and laugh along while shaking your head. the time passed quicker than you thought, the house slowly becoming decorated with balloons and streamers along with letters that spelled out “welcome home suguru” along the wall.
as the time draws near, you can’t help but chew the edges of your fingers a little raw in nervousness and anticipation to see suguru again. satoru catches this and smacks your hand away from your mouth, “you know suguru doesn’t like you doing that. stop it. go get a drink or something if you’re really that nervous…” he trails off with a look of ‘oh shit’ forming across his face, prompting a look of curiosity and confusion from you as you sneakily try to nibble a bit more on your pinky, eliciting another smack from him as a slight yelp fell from your lips.
“why’d you get all cold when you mentioned the drinks?” you ask, reeling slightly from the smack he laid on your hand. satoru sighs and ruffles his snowy shaggy hair in an exasperated fashion, “i forgot the damn drinks.” he grumbles lowly, his bright blue eyes shifting to the floor in disappointment. you stood there, absolutely dumbfounded by his utter stupidity.
“how the hell do you forget the drinks for a party?” you exclaim in a tone laced with annoyance and panic. “i don’t know! i just got lost in everything i guess.” he scraped the back of his neck in embarrassment for a moment before turning to you with a confident grin on his face. “look, can you go run out and buy a couple cases of beer or something?” he says, rustling around in his pocket before tossing his wallet at you. “nuh uh, no. i don’t wanna miss suguru’s arrival, someone else can go.”
“you and i are the only people who can drive here, plus what kind of host would i be if i were gone when he arrived? anyway, he won’t be here for like another thirty minutes. just don’t drag your ass and you’ll be fine.” he spits back in an irritated manner before you begrudgingly grab his wallet from where it landed beside you on the couch and head out to your car.
the drink run goes smooth enough, but then you hit traffic on your way back. shit. you are going to be late. the idea of being late because of satoru’s horrible planning only pissed you off even more. “how does that little idiot always convince me to do the work for him?” you sighed out loud, your hand reaching up to tug at your hair as the situation fully settled in. you tap at your steering wheel eagerly, your eyes rolling into your skull as you sit completely still in traffic. after a while of sitting and plotting satoru’s death, the cars finally started rolling. but by then it was already too late, the party had started well over fifteen minutes ago and suguru was most definitely already there.
you pulled up to satoru’s party, the street and driveway already significantly more filled than it was when you left. that’s when you saw it, a sleek black motorcycle sitting in the open garage. it caught your eye, and you were growing more curious to know who it belonged to as you wobbled your way to the door. you lugged the packs of alcohol up the small stairway leading to the front door, your arms struggling to reach the handle under the weight of the bags hanging off of them. 
finally, you managed to get the door open with a loud grunt and a deep breath following in your wake. you panted a bit, your chest heaving as you carried the heavy load of alcohol to the kitchen. you tossed them on the counter not so carefully, desperate to get the heavy weight off of your arms. you hissed, sucking in air through your teeth as you rubbed at your arms for a bit of comfort. 
you were busy soothing the ache in your arms when a familiar voice called your name from behind you. you immediately pivoted on your foot and spun yourself around to see a very tall suguru. you immediately pulled him in for a hug, holding onto him tightly as you rocked on your heels in excitement. he cackled under his breath, a dramatic ‘oof’ catching in his throat from your tight embrace. still, he returned the embrace just as tightly.
soon enough, you pulled away from the hug and shot him a look of amazement. his dark jett black hair now reached down past his mid back, and it was tied messily into a half up half down bun. it was quite the dramatic change in contrast to when you last saw him. his demeanor even felt the slightest bit different, and you couldn't quite place your finger on it. as you were lost in the view that was suguru geto, you felt your face heat up immediately as his lips formed a knowing smile. you knew you were caught checking him out, and you weren't exactly sure what to say in that very moment.
“you look good, y/n. i’m happy to see you again after so long, seems you’ve grown too.” he remarked breathlessly, his dark obsidian eyes grazing over your figure with the same amazement you looked at him with. you nodded to his statement, your eyes fluttering slightly as you offered him a polite smile.
“yeah, not as much as you though, clearly.” you muttered back, gesturing to his height with your arms in a teasing manner. he chuckled at your response, reaching forward to ruffle your hair with his hand. “why were you late? satoru said you were gettin’ drinks?” he quizzed gently, his voice low and smooth like honey and it was enough to make you feel like you were going to melt. you nodded your head in response, carping about how satoru forgot to buy drinks. he shook his head, tsking with a weak smile as his eyes remained fixed on you. “sounds like satoru, dude would lose his head if it wasn’t attached.” he quipped in a defeated tone, before your conversation was oh so rudely interrupted by satoru. “speak of the devil.” you muttered in annoyance, reluctantly pulling him in for a side hug as your gaze remained on suguru.
satoru chortled, his blue eyes rolling as he pulled you in a bit tighter, giving you one more extra affectionate squeeze before letting you out of his grasp. “i told ya to not drag your ass y/n, don’t be angry at me.” he shrugged, his face plastered with the mundane shit eating grin he normally wore. you simply crossed your arms and rolled your eyes, turning back to pour yourself a cup of liquor to ease your nerves as suguru and satoru chatted it up. 
you sipped slowly, your face turning in with disgust at the taste before nudging satoru on the shoulder. “i don’t want this, you have it.” you requested in a dramatically appalled voice, holding the red solo cup out for him to grab. satoru didn’t hesitate in the slightest, shrugging before throwing his head back and gulping it down with ease. the idea of doing it yourself making your stomach turn as you shivered at the thought.
suguru looked over satoru for a moment, but his gaze was primarily fixed on you. after nearly 2 years, you grew taller, your body grew to be womanly, and your voice even lowered a bit. it was quite a lot to take in, especially after not seeing you for what felt like so long. the house was buzzing with chatter and music, the smell of sweat and alcohol filling the air from all the people gathered around to celebrate suguru’s return. your eyes met suguru’s again, your breath hitched in your throat and the pounding in your chest made you a bit nervous. you weren’t entirely sure exactly why you felt the way you felt.
maybe it was the fact that you were seeing him again for the first time in two years. or maybe, it was just the way he looked now. it had you astonished, for lack of better words. not once within your ten years of friendship did you see him like that, but the way he looked at you with his nihilistic smile made that change in an instant. you were lost in thought before satoru nudged your arm, pointing at the crowd that was dancing; with an irritated looking suguru in his grasp. you nodded, waving them off to go have fun as you turned on your heels to exit out of the garage door. you drew in a deep breath, closing your eyes momentarily to gather your thoughts and calm your breathing.
that’s when you saw it again, a black motorcycle standing on it’s peg in front of your eyes. you stepped closer, observing it in curiosity of whose it could be to be sitting in satoru’s garage. you continued looking at it, checking for any signs of it being someone you know. and just as you were about to give up, suguru entered the dimly lit garage with a bashful smile gracing his lips.
“i see you found my bike, it’s nice huh?” he revealed that it was his bike, and it made your head spin in perplexity. just who was suguru now? “i- yeah actually it is nice. i didn’t know you rode one until now.” you admitted in a breathless mumble, your eyes darting between him and his bike. “your girlfriend into biker guys or what?” you puzzled playfully, fully unaware of what he was about to tell you.
“satoru didn’t tell you?” he laughed out loud, his large hands tucking into his pockets as he took a few steps closer to you and his bike. “we broke up, i found out she cheated on me a couple months ago.” he informed simply, his lips pursing into a thin line as he looked you up and down. well fuck, that’s awkward. you sighed in response, resting your hand on his shoulder briefly before letting your arm fall back down to your side.
“i’m sorry, satoru doesn’t tell me much about you these days so..” you looked up at him and smiled sheepishly, an apologetic look written all over your features. he shook his head, pulling his hand out of his pocket and wrapping his arm around your shoulder reassuringly. “no big deal at all, i know how satoru can be.” he replied shortly, a weak smile tugging on his lips as he looked down at you.
“i’m about to head out, you know i hate when satoru throws these over the top parties.” the idea of him taking off already made you feel a bit sad, but you weren’t going to stop him. especially because you were just as overwhelmed by them as he was. “you want a ride home, y/n?” his question made you jolt in shock.
“uh, n-no i’m fine, i drove here. thank you though.” you blubber out, still reeling from the shock of the question. “oh, alright then, no worries.” a definite look of disappointment crosses the otherwise stoic face, making you feel as if you need to back peddle. “but!” you shout almost a bit too loud from nerves as you try to salvage the situation, “we could always meet up at my house, just like the old times, huh?” a slightly unnerving smirk flashes across suguru’s face, making your heart beat all the faster, “sure, i’ll see you there.”
you wasted no more time in heading home, making it there quicker than you’d like to admit. you didn’t even think of saying goodbye to satoru as you pull into your driveway. your headlights shined on suguru who was sliding off his helmet in front of your car, his dark bangs falling into his face messily before he straightened them out. you swallowed thickly, enjoying the view
before pulling your keys out of the ignition and stepping into the warm night air. you let out a deep exhale, the sounds of crickets and your footsteps filling your ears.
you offered suguru a gentle smile, reaching forward to grab at his hand and drag him along with you to the front of your house. he chuckled from behind you, accepting your warm hand into his and enjoying the sense of nostalgia that you brought to him. you fumbled with your keys, doing your very best to unlock the door with your shaky hands. at once, you finally unlocked the door, pushing it open and stepping inside with suguru almost glued to your back.
your parents were gone on vacation for the summer, so the house was empty and looked quite desolate as you made your way up to the bedroom with him. when you reached your bedroom, your hand smacked the wall on the inside of the door and slid around in an attempt to find the light switch. the lights finally flickered on, causing you to squint from the sudden intrusion of light. suguru stepped into the room in front of you, looking around with a bright smile.
“i see your room hasn’t changed very much. it’s cute, i like it.” he murmured, the smile on his face evident in his voice as he spoke. you nodded along, turning on a lamp and shutting off the over powering ceiling light. “yeah, didn’t have much of a need or want to change anything.” you replied with a tint of blush dusting over your cheeks as suguru took a seat on the edge of your bed with his legs spread apart.
“really? even these dumb little things?” he quipped snarkily, grabbing one of your teddy bears in his hand and squeezing it. you let out a whine, as if to protest against him before snatching it from his hands and stroking it’s head with your finger. “i’ll have you know that mr. teddy is not some dumb thing.” you growled back, your finger still tracing its plushy fur as suguru chortled under his breath. 
“nothing about you has changed, y/n. you’re as feisty as ever.” he stated firmly, his dark eyes flickering into yours as he awaited your response. you let out a soft sigh, setting the teddy bear back down onto the mattress before taking a seat next to him on the edge of the bed. “yeah, kinda have to be to hold my ground around satoru when you’re gone.” you provoked teasingly, a toothy grin spreading across your face as you looked back at him. “i’ve missed you, sugu.” you added, this time sounding a bit more sentimental.
“yeah i’ve missed you too, sweet girl.” he hummed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you in and press a tender kiss to the top of your head. he closed his eyes for a moment, his chin now resting there as he inhaled the scent of your shampoo. he let out a soft exhale, the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears. “how long are you gonna stay? i assume just over the summer, yeah?” you quizzed as your eyes fluttered shut, your head still pressed firmly into his shoulder. 
“just for the summer.” he confirmed in a more somber tone now, his back eyes remaining closed as he pressed his lips on the back of your head once more. he pulled you fully into his lap, slotting you in comfortably in between his thighs with your back against his chest. he slid your hair to the side, revealing the back of your neck. he pressed another delicate kiss there, trying to gauge your reaction to it all.
your breath caught in your throat, your thighs pressing together in a desperate attempt to soothe the aching that was building up in between your legs. suguru took note of this, his arms now wrapping around your waist from behind. his lips moved from the back of your neck, his arm reaching up to hook his fingers around the collar of your shirt to reveal your shoulder. he peppered hot sloppy kisses to the sensitive skin, his tongue darting out every now and then to leave wet spots in his wake.
this elicited a small whine from you, your eyes slamming shut from the sensation as your body began to heat up and squirm in his lap. Your responsiveness mixed with your hips squirming against his groin caused his cock to stiffen against the fabric of his jeans, a low guttural groan falling from his mouth and sending vibrations into your shoulder. “s-sugu..” you whined, your head rolling to the side to give him better access.
“so you do want this, sweetheart?” he asked sweetly, his hands falling to your hips to hold you firmly in place as he moved to suck on the side of your neck. you had little to no way to form words at this point, however deciding to go with a simple nod wasn’t enough. “use your words, baby. i want to hear you say it.” he chuckled deeply into your skin, his lips grazing across the soft and sensitive surface teasingly.
you mewled in desperation, your hips bucking into his throbbing member that pressed against the small of your back. “i want it.. please.. need you sugu..” your voice was wobbly and laced with desperation. you were really exposing yourself at the moment, revealing that this is something you’ve been longing for for quite some time now.
he reached up with one of his hands to wrap your hair into a makeshift ponytail, tugging it around his knuckles harshly to force your head back as he sucked on your skin more feverishly now. “i thought so, you wouldn’t stop fucking me with those pretty eyes of yours all night.” he purred, his voice velvety and full of undying lust as he squeezed your hair in his hand even tighter. you cried out from the sting, your eyebrows knitting together at the painful sensation. your hand reached up to grip at his hand resting on your hip, squeezing it tightly in an attempt to ground yourself.
this caused him to laugh sadistically as he traced small affectionate patterns on the soft skin of your hand. his grip on your hair never faltered as he pulled you up by it and stood to his feet, gently forcing you to your knees in front of him. he muttered a small ‘sorry’ for the way your exposed knees smacked against the hardwood. you immediately know the drill, urgently reaching up to unbuckle his belt as you feel your wetness seep from your panties and onto the floor below. he tugged back your head by your hair firmly, clicking his tongue before he spoke. “slow, sweetheart. do it slowly, i wanna see how pretty you look when you swallow my cock. make sure you look at me while you do it, or i’ll make you stop.” he ordered sternly, his light and gentle voice strongly contradicting the harshness of his order, but you obeyed regardless.
you wanted nothing more than for him to just fill your mouth, so you happily obliged. you looked up into his dark hazy eyes, slowly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. with one small tug, his bulge was now visible through his wet and sticky boxers. you let out a needy moan, your eyelashes fluttering up at him as you pressed your tongue to the stain of precum at his tip, lapping and sucking at it through the fabric.
suguru sucked in air through his teeth, a moan coming out with his exhale as he looked down at you. his hand reached down to grip you by the chin and stroke your cheek with the rough pad of his thumb, a gentle smile resting on his lips. “not so feisty now are you? you’re such a naughty girl, didn’t know you had it in you to obey.” he teased, his abs rippling under his shirt as his body tensed up from the feeling of your pretty lips against the clothed tip of his cock. 
you let out a slightly annoyed groan at his statement, gently nibbling on the tip with your teeth to discourage him from teasing you like that. this caused him to tug at your hair roughly, ripping your mouth away from his throbbing cock. you shrieked at the sudden tug, your head reeling with pain before he spoke. “if you bite my dick like that again, i’m not gonna let you cum. and if i’m not mistaken– that’s definitely not what you want, is it pretty?” he grumbled, his voice a lot less gentle and a lot more hoarse. he dragged your head back to force your face into his cock once more, letting out a breathy giggle as his hips pushed forward to press his stiffened member to your cheek.
you definitely didn’t want to be denied the pleasure of cumming all over his cock, so you decided to comply this time around. you reached up and hooked your fingers around the waistband of his boxers, slowly dragging them down his muscular thighs as you looked up at him with an apologetic look in your eyes. he let out a soft hum of approval, his cock finally springing free from the tight fabric of his boxers.
the sight alone elicited a wanton moan to bubble up in your throat, his heavy and girthy member twitching in front of your face with precum dripping from the tip. you lapped at the tip of his cock, the salty taste of precum swirling around your taste buds. a normally unpleasant taste
became something you enjoyed, it sent a rush of arousal straight to your core. you savored it for a moment before wrapping your lips around the tip and swirling your tongue around it slowly. you allowed a full moan to come up your throat, sending vibrations down his shaft as your wet hot tongue slid over his slit. this alone caused his hips to rut forward further into your mouth, his hand that held your hair trembling slightly as he gasped.
the sudden rut of his hips caused you to gag, finally committing to taking him as far as you could down your throat. one of your hands gripped his toned thigh, digging your nails in as you tried to steady yourself, while the other reached up to cup his balls in your hand. suguru got needy enough to start thrusting into your mouth full force, pulling your head forward by the hair to match his pace. you gagged and whined around him, hot tears welling up in your eyes and streaming down your rosy cheeks as his heavy balls smacked into your chin.
"so good baby, your throat grips my cock so fucking nicely." moans of profanities and your name fell from his pretty lips, his voice growing to be more airy and hoarse. all the sudden he pulled his cock from your throat, letting out a loud groan from the loss of contact on his throbbing length.
you looked up at him as you coughed and tried to catch your breath, a long thick string of saliva connecting the tip of his cock to your lips. you sat on your knees for a moment, waiting for his next move as saliva and precum dripped down your chin and onto your chest. he was staring down at you, his thick veiny member coated in your saliva twitching right in front of your lips. "you look stunning when you struggle to breathe, angel. you look like such a cock hungry little girl." he wanted to enjoy this view for as long as he could, taking in the way your saliva soaked the white blouse you had on as your saliva dripped from your chin in a very lewd way.
he crouched down to your level, finally letting go of your hair, and it was immediately sore and achy from how tight he was holding it. but that thought quickly left your mind when he pulled you in for a delicate but heated kiss, his large hands cupping your dainty face as he began deepening it. his tongue slid across your bottom lip, tugging it in between his lips before plunging his tongue into your mouth. your tongues tangled together naturally, your lips melting into one another's as you moaned into suguru's mouth. the kiss was dirty, sure. but it held a feeling that felt like much more than just lust. 
with no warning he pulled you to your feet with ease, letting you rest against his chest momentarily to stabilize your wobbly legs before bending you over on the desk. your hands rested flat against the cold wood surface, shivering as he lifted up your skirt and grazed his fingers along the swell of your ass. “you’ve got such a nice ass princess.. don’t remember it looking this pretty last time i saw you.” he gritted his teeth, leaving a harsh smack on one of your
cheeks before tugging your panties off in one swift motion. you shrieked, the sting of his hand lingering on your ass caused your arousal to splatter down your thighs.
“already wet and all you’ve done is suck my cock a little.. that’s cute baby.” he hums, his large hand kneading on the flesh of your ass while the other one slides in between your folds, rubbing harsh circles on your clit and watching the way your body tenses up from his touch. his chest filled with pride, seeing you so fucked out for him already from just a couple brushes of his fingers.
he dipped two thick digits into your aching hole, holding still for a moment to really feel the way you fluttered around his fingers. you bucked your hips against his hand, desperate for him to give you even the slightest bit more. doing this caused his cock to throb painfully, hardly able to focus from his imagination of what it would be like to have your gummy walls wrapped around his cock. he took his fingers out slowly, a wet pop following before he licked them clean with an airy grunt. “i’ll have to taste you another time, i need to be inside you, now sweetheart.” he aired breathlessly, his hand gripped his thick cock and he moved forward to press the tip to your leaking entrance. 
he slid it up and down your slick folds, enjoying the lewd sound it made before pushing the tip inside of you. your body jolted forward as if to escape from the sudden but long awaited intrusion, a slight pain creeping into your cunt from the stretch of his dick nearly tearing you open. this causes suguru to yank your arms out from under you and pull you against his chest, shoving his cock all the way in. you yelped in pain, your pussy sucking him in desperately despite how much you were stretched as you began to moan and whine his name.
“it’s okay baby, just take it. i’m sorry for being so rough. but i mmhh– i need to fuck you.” he apologized briefly through broken moans before starting to thrust into you from behind. he held your arms behind your back tightly and shoved you face down onto the desk as his hips snapped into your ass. sounds of slapping, your mixed moans and the creaking of the desk underneath you filling the otherwise quiet room. he leaned down from behind you, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before bullying into your cunt even further.
you squeal and squeeze your legs together as the tip of his cock pounded against your cervix repetitively, your mouth falling open and your eyes fluttering to the back of your skull. “s-sugu.. fuck meee oh my god–” you babbled on and on, you couldn’t even breathe, couldn’t even speak properly to tell him how much you loved him and the way he ruined you. his hand let go of one of your arms, reaching forward to grip the base of your throat and coax your head back before placing a kiss on the tip of your ear.
“i am fucking you, sweet girl.” he chastised with a chuckle, his other hand reaching down to slide under your shirt and raise it enough to roll your nipple in between his thumb and index finger. your body visibly shuddered from the pleasure, his hand leaving your throat to let your head fall back against the desk before reaching down to rub quick circles around your clit. immediately you felt your high creeping up on you, the pressure in your abdomen building and close to unraveling. 
suguru took note of the way you fluttered around his length, the way you gripped him causing him to clench his jaw. he didn’t want it to be over just yet, making quick work of flipping you onto your back against the the desk. he pushed your knees up to your shoulders, spreading your legs wide and admiring the sight of your dripping cunt before pushing back into you with ease.
he set the pace again, pressing his forehead to yours before capturing your lips into a deep kiss. it didn’t take long for you to get close again, the bottom of his navel rubbing into your clit with each deep thrust he took inside of you. you whimpered into his mouth, lapping at his tongue sloppily in desperation before he broke the kiss. “i’m close sugu.. so so close.. please–” she cried out as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in impossibly deeper than before. he groaned out, one of his hands reached forward to hold your face in it while his other took care of your sensitive bud.
his dark raven bangs clung to his forehead as a bead of sweat dripped down his temple. “i’m close too baby, it’s okay. you can cum.” he reassured gently, stroking her hot cheeks with his thumb affectionately. as he chased his high, he felt his muscles tense up, feeling you lock up underneath him made his hips move more feverishly, determined to pull your orgasm out of you harder.
you wrapped your arms around his neck, gripping onto his back and sinking your nails into his sweaty tanned skin. you panted, finally mustering up the courage to say what you’ve wanted to for so long. ‘i love you suguru, i love you s– so much..” and just like that, you came undone as a white heat rushed through your body. your back arched off the desk, your eyes slammed shut and your mouth fell slack as your insides pulsated around him. your clear sticky cum formed a ring around the base of his cock, coating his pelvic bone and his balls as he thrusted into you.
your confession certainly caught him by surprise, but he accepted it wholeheartedly as it threw him into an orgasm of his own. “i love you too, y/n. fuck– always have, my pretty girl.” he huffed out, his hand drifting from the skin of your cheek and down to your throat to squeeze it tightly. he pulled out and pumped his swollen length a couple of times before cumming all over your tummy.
he fucked his own hand a bit more as he rode out his high, a couple more thin ropes of his hot white seed following behind. a guttural moan jumping up his throat as his eyebrows knitted together. fuck, he looked so pretty. 
he leaned in and moved your hair out of your face before pressing a delicate kiss to your temple. the back of his index finger ghosting down the edge of your jawline before he pulled away to look for something to clean the both of you up. he wiped away the mess, a gentle and almost unreadable expression gracing over his handsome face as he focused on taking care of you. 
he straightened out your skirt, his large veiny hands that were decorated with black nail polish sliding along your hips as if to worship the view a bit more before picking you up and laying you down on the bed. he caged you in underneath him, taking a good look at your face before kissing the tip of your nose.
“so you love me huh? maybe i’ll just have to stay here.” his expression softened, and a smile grew on his lips to reveal his pearly whites. the sight of his smile made your heart swell, it wasn’t the kind of smile you saw very often, but when you did it could like up an entire room. “i suppose i do, sugu.” you teased back, pressing a kiss to his lips gently before you both laid down together on your twin sized mattress.
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valeskafics · 2 months
Text
"Rattlesnake" - Billy the Kid x Reader
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a/n: first time writing for billy the kid hehe. hope you enjoy 🩷
Summary: Billy chooses the wrong barn to stay the night in. Or the right one.
Word Count: 4,050
Rating: 18+, MDNI
TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, gun violence, idk slight sexism but not really from billy, mentions of character death/death in childbirth, breeding kink if you squint, oral f receiving, p in v sex, loss of virginity
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Billy the Kid characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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Billy doesn’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep since he had to leave Lincoln County. He’s been riding for days when he finally comes upon a ranch, just on the outskirts of Albuquerque. It’s late and the sun has already set, darkness quickly setting in. Making sure that there are no trigger-happy ranch hands or the like around, Billy sneaks into the barn under the cover of night. It’s cold as rain batters against the roof of the barn, but it’s the safest place he’s slept in weeks. Billy sighs, finding a comfortable hay bale to sit down on, glancing around at the animals who are to be his housemates for the evening. They seem well-fed, and Billy muses that whoever lives in the house just several hundred yards away must be a good person. His eyes slowly close and he allows the sweet embrace of slumber to claim him.
He’s rather shocked when he wakes up to the feeling of ice cold water being thrown on his face, startling and coughing violently, grabbing at his gun, only to realize it’s no longer in its holster. He blinks the water from his eyes, looking around frantically before his eyes focus on the figure in front of him.
The most beautiful girl he’s ever seen in his entire life, standing there, dressed in only a thin white nightgown, one that’s far too cold for the night air outside, holding a rifle to his forehead. Oh, well, that puts a damper on things.
“Who are you and what’re you doing in my daddy’s barn?”
Billy rubs his eyes, as if trying to wake himself up, before giving you a cocky smile, “Well, God damn, you are real. I thought I was dreaming, but here you are, darlin’. Who’s your daddy anyhow?”
You narrow your eyes, index finger on the gun’s hammer, “I’m the one asking questions here, cowboy. What’s your name?”
He swallows thickly, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he speaks, “The name’s Billy.”
“There a last name that goes with that, Billy?”
He could give you his real last name. He thinks about it for a long moment. But in the end, he just gives you a sheepish smile and answers, almost as if he isn’t too sure himself.
“The Kid?”
“Is that a fact? You don’t sound too convincing, cowboy.”
Your gaze almost pierces through him with its intensity. He stares at you, the rainwater that clings to your face, the way your damp hair hangs around your shoulders, swaying in the breeze. Your nightgown, nearly translucent under the moonlight that filters into the barn, such that he can make out the shape of your chest and your hips against it. 
Billy clears his throat, trying to maintain his male machismo, though he knows he’s likely failing miserably, “I’m sure I’m the Kid, alright. Why are you holding a gun on me, anyhow? What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Like I said, you ain’t the one asking questions here, pretty boy.” A grin spreads across his face at the moniker as he waits for you to continue, “Now what in the hell are you doing in my barn?”
That dopey smile remains on his face as he replies, “I was just looking for a place to stay for the night, ma’am, that’s all. I didn’t mean any harm.” You peer at him curiously before, finally, lowering the gun, removing your finger from the trigger, causing Billy to let out a sigh of relief, “So, what’s your name?”
You tell him, pausing before jerking your head toward the horses in the barn, skittish from a stranger being in their presence, “You scared them half to death. Thanks for that.”
Billy gives you an awkward smile, scratching the back of his head as he stands up, “Ah, sorry about that, ma’am. I didn’t mean to. I just have been riding for an awful long time and your barn was the first place I came across to rest.”
You let out a weary sigh before waving him off, “It’s fine. Ever since Daddy passed, it's been me in charge around the house. Gotta stay vigilant for intruders and such.”
He blinks owlishly, surprised at the revelation, “You take care of this giant ranch all by yourself? Must be a lot of work for a pretty gal like you-”
“What, it would’ve been less work if I was ugly?”
Billy bites back a laugh at your snarky response, watching as you go to calm one of the horses, running your hand along its muzzle, soothing it, “No, no, I just meant you’re like a delicate little flower with this big old ranch and-”
“This delicate little flower also got the jump on you and had a gun pointed to your head, pretty boy, so I’d watch that mouth.”
“Yeah, okay you do have me there,” Billy relents, “In all seriousness, though, a girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be alone in a place like this. It’s way too dangerous.”
You scoff, going to check on one of the cows next, “I ain’t by myself. When my little brothers are old enough, they’ll help me.”
“You have little brothers, huh? How old are they? Must be pretty lucky to have a big sister like you looking after them.”
“Triplets. They’re six. Jason, Luke, and Jeff.”
Billy lets out a low whistle, brows raised, “Triplets? Wow, that must’ve been a really busy night for Mom, huh?”
“Well, she died. So yes, quite busy, I reckon.”
He freezes. Shit. For all his bluster and bravado, Billy the Kid is rendered speechless by those two little sentences. He stares at the floor and slides his hand over his face, utterly ashamed.
“Ah, God, I’m really sorry. I had no idea-”
“It’s alright,” you cut him off, shrugging, “Been six years now, ya know? We move on. Anyway, you really Billy the Kid or were you just bluffing?”
Comforted by your assurances, he gives you a charmingly boyish grin, chuckling, “No, I am unfortunately actually Billy the Kid. Not too proud of that fact at the moment.”
You snort out a laugh, leaning against one of the barn’s beams, arms crossed. Billy’s gaze flickers to the swell of your breasts, quickly averting his eyes when you speak again, doing his level best not to ogle you like a pervert.
“I could get a nice little sum for turning you in, Billy the Kid, you know that? You got all of New Mexico searching for ya.”
Billy leans his forearm against the beam you stand in front of, grinning down at you, “So why ain’t you done that then? You have me trapped in this barn, at your mercy, little lady. So what is it that’s stopping you from turning me over?”
“Turning you over would mean I’d have to deal with the new sheriff. Took over for his daddy a few months back and he’s been itching to make an honest woman outta me for years now. Way I see it? You’re the lesser of two evils.”
Billy arches a brow, “Oh, lesser of two evils, is it? What are your plans with me, little miss? Turn me into your slave? Force me into marrying you so that the honorable sheriff can’t? A secret third option?”
“Darlin’, I would just as soon marry a rattlesnake,” you scoff, gazing up at him, “I wouldn’t marry you even if they paid me.”
His jaw drops at your words. Billy doesn’t think he’s ever been rebuffed so brutally in his entire life. The man simply isn’t used to the type of rejection and sass you’re tossing his way.
“I’m a pretty good catch, I’ll have you know.”
“Mmm, I’m sure you are, darlin’. Anyway, you can stay the night. I ain’t gonna kick someone out who was just seekin’ shelter.”
Still sulking over your rejection, Billy pouts slightly, “You know, you ain’t the first pretty girl to not be interested in me, but I always change their minds. Least if they’re open-minded enough-”
“So you have a pattern of ladies not being interested in you? That’s kinda embarrassing, what’re you tellin’ me for?”
Billy balks at your observation. Why are you so damn smart? Why didn’t he think of it like that? You’re always one step ahead of him, and truth be told? He kind of loves it.
“Well, I really did dig myself a hole there, didn’t I?” He laughs awkwardly, “Well, you’re not just any girl. You’re the prettiest- no, the most beau… Damn…”
You shake your head at him before cutting off his rambling, “You know, you can just sleep in the house. It’s awful cold tonight, you’ll freeze your back end off sleeping out here.”
“I…” Taken aback by your kind offer, Billy’s eyes come alight with excitement, “You mean it? You’re not worried I’ll steal anything?”
“We ain’t got nothin’ worth stealin’. And if you stole one of my little brothers, I’d be obliged to thank you.”
“And what if I stole you-”
“I’d shoot you before you could. Now, you comin’ or not, pretty boy?”
The nickname makes his cheeks flush slightly as he follows you out into the cold night air. The rain has calmed to a drizzle now, but it’s enough to make the two of you run back to the house. Billy admires the way you look, flipping your wet hair back, your nightdress clinging to that gorgeous body of yours. He follows after you as you show him around the house, gesturing toward the kitchen, the outhouse just beyond the front yard, your brothers’ room, and finally? The guest room.
“Oh, I thought you would’ve wanted me sleeping in your bed, little lady, but I suppose we ain’t close enough yet.”
You scoff, a sound he’s becoming quite well acquainted with, “Darlin’, I’d just as soon sleep with a rattlesnake. Least they give a lady some warning before they attack.”
“You are a sassy little thing, ain’t you?” He shakes his head, smiling in spite of himself, “I’ll betcha no man has ever tamed you yet. But let me tell you this, I’ll be the first one to do it.”
“You can try,” you reply airily, “Now, feel free to wash up or whatever you need. We eat breakfast an hour after dawn. You sleep through it? It’s your problem.”
“Thank you kindly, ma’am,” he says, his voice a bit more serious as he earnestly voices his gratitude, “Before I decide whether to wash up or not, you got a mirror round here?”
“You don’t need a mirror. I can tell you. You need to wash up. G’night.”
He laughs to himself, staring after you as you walk toward your bedroom, “Yeah, I’ll have you wrapped around my finger in no time.”
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Billy awakens to the sight of three sets of eyes peering over the foot of his bed. The curious gazes of these little strangers have him smiling to himself as he listens in on their conversation.”
“Is he her boyfriend?”
“She’s too ugly to have a boyfriend.”
“That’s mean, I’m telling sissy on you!”
Billy yawns, startling the triplets, making them stare at him, eyes wide. He chuckles at their surprised little faces, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Hi there, fellas. I ain’t your big sister’s boyfriend yet, but give me a few days. She just ain’t ready for me yet.”
One of the triplets, the one standing in the center who seems to be the leader of the pack, gives him a dubious look, one that reminds him quite a bit of you, truth be told, “Uh huh.”
Upon hearing your voice, calling out to them to wash up, the three scamper off, not paying Billy any more mind. Billy snickers to himself, watching them push past each other, tripping and falling. It’s adorable, really.
“Yeah, they’ll see. I’m gonna make an honest woman out of that pretty little miss.”
When he heads to the dining table several minutes later, he sees you in the kitchen doing your best to whip up breakfast for everyone. However, you are being distracted by one of your brothers climbing on your bag, tugging at your hair insistently. Another hugs your leg as you try your best to maneuver about the kitchen.
“I can’t feed y’all if you’re gonna act like little demons! Come on, now, go sit down like Jason.”
The scene of you struggling with the boys is too adorable for Billy to bear; he approaches you with a grin, “Need some help, beautiful?”
“Nope, the situation is completely under control.” You wince at the sound of a plate crashing, “All under control.” Billy watches as you rush over to clean up the mess at Jason’s feet, moving to wipe his teary eyes and soothing him in a gentle voice, “Aww, baby, it’s okay. It was an accident, honeybun, don’t you worry. Sissy’s got this.”
The scene is so very domestic as you dish out everyone’s breakfast, instructing the boys to behave at the schoolhouse. It’s funny, Billy thinks, but he can almost see himself as a father to your own children one day, seeing this same scenario in his mind’s eye as you care for three little babies who have the best of both of you. After the boys have run off to school, you begin washing up plates, humming to yourself. What surprises you is when Billy walks over to stand beside you and give you a hand.
“Now, you’re a guest,” you chide, “An uninvited one, but my mama and daddy didn’t raise me to allow a guest to help.”
Billy shrugs, grinning at you, “I don’t like sitting around while others are working hard. Plus, I’m sure you must be exhausted taking care of those three little rascals and this ranch.” He pauses before suggesting, “You know, I could take some of the load off your shoulders-”
“Shouldn’t you be moving on to the next town soon?” You ask curiously, “Sheriff’s always sniffing around here. It ain’t particularly safe for ya.”
“Maybe,” Billy agrees, resting his hands on his hips, turning to face you, “But if I’m being honest, I’m getting real tired of running.”
You meet his gaze, a thoughtful expression crossing your face as you speak, “If you’re being truthful, we ain’t been able to afford help around the ranch since Daddy died. I can’t give you much in the way of money, but I can give you a warm bed and three hot meals a day in exchange for you helping me with the animals,” you pause, adding with a laugh, “That includes my brothers.”
He’s surprised by your magnanimity, blinking rapidly, “I… Ma’am, that would be real nice if you’re sure you’re alright with that.”
You nod, “In truth? I’ve been struggling handling all this on my own. It’d be nice to have an extra set of hands. I have no clue how Daddy did it.”
“Well, he had a lovely daughter like yourself helping him,” Billy’s heart warms when you smile at his words, “You sure about this though, sweetheart? You hardly know me.”
“You coulda tried something on me last night but you didn’t. Tells me all I need to know.”
A big goofy grin spreads across his face as well as the tiniest bit of a blush, “Is that a fact? You have a keen eye, little lady. Wanna know why I didn’t try anything?”
“Let me guess. You’re convinced you can get me to ask you to try something,” you sass, setting down a dish towel, turning to face him.
“You really do have me figured out,” he snickers, “But you’re wrong about one thing. I don’t think I can just get you to ask. I think I can get you to beg for me to try something.”
You roll your eyes, waving him off, “Yeah, okay, cowboy. Go grab the eggs from the coop. Make yourself useful, why don’t ya?”
Billy gives you a playful salute before sauntering off, calling back, “Mark my words, pretty girl. Within a few short weeks, you’re gonna be eating out of the palm of my hand.”
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He isn’t entirely wrong. As the weeks go by, you grow used to Billy’s presence. Hell, you even consider him a friend. Granted, a rather handsome friend who you wouldn’t mind kissing, but you digress. The boys come to see him as sort of an older brother/father figure and he’s so wonderful with them. You can’t help thinking what a wonderful father he’ll make to his own children.
“Our children,” he would wink cheekily and correct you, grinning at the way you roll your eyes.
And with every day that passes, Billy the Kid falls even deeper in love with you, the strong, resilient, gorgeous young woman who gave him a chance when no one else would. He swears he’s going to tell you how he feels one of these days. He has so many opportunities to do so.
When you’re repainting the chicken coop and fall from the ladder into his arms. When the two of you get stuck waiting in the barn for the rain to stop, huddled up together for warmth. When one of your horses gets a little too excited and Billy has to calm it, with those gorgeous blue eyes.
Everything is wonderful. Until the sheriff shows up, a menacing glare on his otherwise handsome face when he demands to know the identity of your new ranch hand. That he bears a suspicious resemblance to one notorious outlaw the entire county is in pursuit of. Before Billy can even begin to think of an excuse, you have your arm entwined in his and are taking the lead.
“Oh, Sheriff, this is my beau, William. He’s just come from California and the two of us just fell in love at first sight when he started working on the ranch. We’re engaged!”
Your quick thinking amazes Billy and he immediately backs you up, but part of him? Part of him wishes your words were true. He’s so desperately in love with you that when you called him your beau? It was as if an angel had spoken the words in his ears. He stares at you with a lovestruck grin, as you squeeze his hand gently, smiling up at him, urging him to play along.
“He certainly looks a bit like Billy the Kid, I suppose, but you’re mistaken, Sam. My Will? He wouldn’t hurt a fly!”
Billy nods immediately, “I’m just here to love on my fiancee, sir, and help her around the ranch in whatever way I’m able. I just am here because of my love for this woman.”
Not particularly happy about your new beau, Sam walks off in a huff, placing his sheriff’s hat back on his head, muttering an insincere “congratulations” as he storms off your property. You slap Billy’s chest when he calls back “thank you kindly, Sheriff”.
You let go of his hand and exhale sharply, “Well, damn. That could’ve gone south real fast.”
Billy chuckles, “A little bluffing here and there is good for the soul. But you, ma’am, know how to make a man blush,” he teases, nudging you, “Nearly gave me a heart attack. How come you didn’t just call me your cousin or something?”
“Cuz you keep lookin’ at me like you wanna eat me alive,” you sass, “Ain’t no one gonna believe you’re my cousin.”
He lets out a bark of laughter, trying to hide his embarrassment, Well, you ain’t wrong.” You giggle, the sound making Billy’s heart soar as he gently turns you to face him, his hands resting on your face, palms warm and calloused and so very comforting, “Y’know, all I’ve been thinking about the last twenty minutes is how much I want what you told him to be real. I don’t know what it is about you, but you’ve got me so head over heels that I feel like I can’t even breathe when I’m around you.”
You shy away, not used to the feelings you’re currently experiencing, but Billy gently tilts your chin up so that you meet his eyes. His touch is so gentle, so tender. He knows you’re a good, strong woman but in this moment, he wants nothing more than to treat you like the princess he sees you as. He leans in slowly, his breath tickling your lips as he tells you the three words he’s wanted to for so long now.
“I love you.”
You rest your hand on his cheek, whispering back, your voice barely audible, “I love you too, Billy.”
His lips meet yours in a heated, passionate kiss, one that makes you lose yourself, that makes you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine. Your hands thread in his dark hair, grabbing his hat and tossing it aside as he lifts you onto the counter. You wrap your legs around his waist, eager to feel his body against your own, the kiss leaving you breathless. Billy’s lips move to your neck, nipping at the soft skin before he sinks to his knees, pushing your thighs apart. Your legs dangle over his shoulders as he buries his face in your cunt, lapping at your folds like a man starved, devouring you, moaning at your taste. His cock twitches against his pants as he does, the taste of you alone being enough to drive him to madness. And the sweet noises you make, telling him how good he’s making you feel, how you’ve never felt like this before, your hands running through his hair?
He’s made love to women before, tasted them too. But nothing like this. And when you come undone on his tongue, he swears it’s the sweetest thing on the planet. He continues mouthing at you, ignoring the way you squirm away, his tongue feeling so rough against your tender, overstimulated flesh. But Billy is determined to taste you again, his large palms squeezing at the meat of your thighs, groaning as he suckles at your sensitive pearl, rolling the button between his lips, reveling in the breathy gasps of his name that fall from your lips as he wrenches another climax from you.
Billy stands up to kiss you again, and you taste yourself on his tongue. It’s strange, but not at all unpleasant, you muse as your hands fly to his belt, undoing his pants enough to free his long, thick cock from its confines. You palm at it, your soft hands feeling so perfect against him that he nearly finishes then and there. But you move to help guide him inside you. Your eyes water slightly at the feeling of his cock pushing its way against your folds, but Billy kisses your forehead, moving slowly, excruciatingly so, making sure not to cause you any pain. The two of you stay like that for a long moment when he bottoms out inside of you, faces covered with a thin sheen of sweat, lips finding each other’s in a desperate kiss.
“I love you,” you whisper, “Suppose I did let a rattlesnake into my bed. And my heart.”
He laughs, pressing his lips to yours again as he makes love to you in earnest, his hips canting against yours slowly, making you feel every ridge, every vein of his cock as he ruts against you. It feels so perfect, so raw, so real. You bury your face in his neck, clinging to him as he holds you tight, rolling his hips against yours, the fat head of his cock rubbing against that spot deep inside of you that has your toes curling, crying out his name. He continues, pounding into you, over and over, until you reach your third peak, letting out a near sob of his name, feeling him reach his own, spilling himself inside you moments later.
The two of you stay like that as he softens inside of you, doing your best to catch your breath. Billy peppers kisses all over your face, speaking after a few moments of comfortable silence.
“Hope we have a little girl. One who looks just like you, darlin’. I love you.”
“I love you too, Billy. I love you too.”
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fuckyeahdindjarin · 3 months
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A Seams Christmas special oneshot | Moodboard
{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }
Rating: T
Summary: Joel swings by yours with a little something before Christmas dinner at Tommy and Maria's.
Warnings: Unapologetic fluff and softness, inspired by this ask from @casssiopeia from the beginning of the year, no use of Y/N, very lightly edited
Word count: 2k
Notes: I'm so proud of writing up this little drabble. I've been in such a weird place with my writing, I'm just happy to end the year on a creative high. Obviously, I'm a few days late to Christmas, but better late than never!
There is a voice in my head telling me that this isn't good enough, that it doesn't hold up to what I was writing earlier this year. But I need to rewire my brain. There is no such thing as 'good' or 'bad' when it comes to fanfiction. All fanfiction is good fanfiction. This is our hobby, not our jobs, and we need to be kind to ourselves.
I am posting this at 11:59pm on New Year's Eve. Happy new year y'all, I hope Joel and Pin can bring you some festive cheer ❤️
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Joel is this close to have a fucking breakdown.
He would measure out how close this is between his thumb and index finger if they were not currently tangled in webs of yarn, rapidly unravelling from from the bottom of what is supposed to be a sweater.
Your sweater.
The book that Lucy lent him months ago lies on the table before him, the pages yellowed and dogeared, open at the the easiest pattern of the lot to knit - a simple pullover in chunky yarn, in your favourite colour.
Well, it was supposed to be easy, anyway.
Despite Lucy basically holding his hand throughout the whole project, he’s had far less time than anticipated to work on it. Too many nights he finds himself at Tommy and Maria’s, elbow deep in dirty baby’s clothes and diapers, making himself useful for whatever needs to be done around the house. 
Even Ellie chips in without being asked, often bringing back food from the canteen and making sure the severely sleep-deprived adults are eating, if not well fed. Joel honestly doesn’t remember how he did it with Sarah as a clueless twenty-something, with an even more clueless younger brother.
As he attempts to free himself from the quagmire of wool, he grimaces at the stiffness all over his body, feeling it especially in his back after sleeping in an armchair all night with a rapidly growing two-month old.
He’s too old for this shit - but there’s no saying no to the little rascal with Tommy’s nose and Maria’s eyes.
The knitting needles clatter to the floor when he jumps at the front door opening and slamming shut, a frustrated fuuuuuuck slipping past his gritted teeth. 
Ellie’s voice rings out loud and clear as she scampers up the stairs, getting progressively louder until she’s outside his study. ‘Hey! Did you remember to put the potatoes in the oven? We have to leave for Tommy’s in an hour - dude, what the fuck is happening?’
‘What do you think is happenin’?’ he growls.
Crossing her arms, Ellie leans against the doorframe wearing a far too amused expression. ‘Maria said no gifts.’
Joel rolls his eyes. ‘It’s not for Maria.’
The teenager squints, perplexed, at the bits of wool in his hands. ‘What is that meant to be?’
‘... A sweater.’
Ellie bites her bottom lip, holding in a poorly concealed giggle. ‘I think a sweater is meant to have sleeves.’
‘You think?’
‘Want me to go get Lucy?’
With a heavy sigh, he mutters, ‘Fine.’
At the arch of her half-eyebrow, Joel adds begrudgingly, ‘Please.’
Ellie grins, sneakers skidding on the floorboards as she takes off. ‘Hang in there, old man!’
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Despite the cold, his palms are sweaty, sticking to the kraft paper wrapped haphazardly around the even more haphazard package clutched tightly in his right hand. 
The night air mists before him in puffs of white as he shuffles a path through the falling snow. His ears are tingling from the cold, and flexing the stiff, frozen tips of his fingers, Joel knows he should’ve worn his gloves. They weren’t in their usual place by the door though, and he was so frazzled that he barely got his shoes tied up before dashing out the door, sending Ellie ahead with the potatoes (that are definitely undercooked) to his brother’s.
Your cottage glows yellow and orange in the darkness, and your stairs no longer creak when he trudges up them, having fixed them just in time before the first snowfall.
He hears your footsteps come from deep within this house when he knocks. Your eyes are wide when your door cracks open tentatively, but then your lips curve into a smile - the smile that he takes with him and keeps him warm when he has to leave Jackson for days-long patrols.
‘What are you doing here?’ you ask, ushering him inside, not batting an eye at the snow he tracks inside. ‘I thought we were meeting at Maria’s.’
Pressing a kiss to your lips, he softens at the way you lift your face towards him to catch it, careful to keep the parcel out of sight behind his back. ‘Yeah, we were, but thought I’d see if you need a hand with anythin’.’
‘Such a gentleman,’ you tease. 
A low fire burns in the hearth, the wood he chopped for you in the fall stacked in a tidy pile next to the mantelpiece. Sweeping his eyes across the living space, he spots the book with the cracked spine that he reads when he’s here on the coffee table, next to yours. On the other side of the couch is the Christmas tree that he cut for you, and he watched you dress it up in tinsel and fairylights one night after a quiet dinner and before hot cocoa under thick blankets.
He likes seeing himself at your home. In the things he does for you; in his things, casually scattered around - like they belong in your space.
‘The pies are in the kitchen, could you please put them in a bag?’ you ask. ‘I’ll just grab my coat and we can go.’
‘Sure, sweetheart,’ he answers, waiting until you’ve disappeared into the bedroom before setting down the present under the tree.
He’s leaning against the back of the couch when you pop back in, a few layers deeper than when you left him, the pies nestled safely in a carrier bag by his boots. 
‘Shall we?’ you ask brightly.
Joel hesitates, wondering if he should wait until after dinner to tell you about the present. It only takes his eyes darting to the foot of the tree for the briefest moment for you to catch on. The slow smile that stretches your cheeks and lights up your eyes warms him from the inside out.
You cock your head to one side, playing coy. ‘What’s that, Joel?’
He shrugs, feigning cool. ‘Why don’t you go ahead and find out?’
His chest physically swells at the way you dash towards the tree, landing on your knees in uncharacteristic recklessness, the impact only softened by the rug underneath. You cradle the lumpy package to your chest like something precious. ‘You got me a present.’
He settles on the end of the couch next to you, his heart beating harder in his ribcage than he’d like to admit. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart.’
You frown at him. ‘Why?’
‘You’ll see, but I wanted to give it to you anyway.’
You open the package carefully, as if it was wrapped in the fancy paper people used to buy at the shop. Joel holds his breath when you peel it away to reveal what’s inside.
He’s far too inside his own head to hear your inhale that sounds a lot like wonder. You pick up the sweater gently, shaking it out, and Joel winces when he sees it in the flicker of the firelight.
Disastrous doesn’t begin to cover it. Lucy managed to connect the sleeves to the shapeless body in a last-ditch salvage attempt, but one is clearly longer than the other. The stitches are untidy, some have obviously caught onto something and pulled loose. Rough around the edges is putting it kindly.
Joel wants to reach out, grab it, chuck it into the fire and let the flames swallow it whole.
Finally, the silence gets the better of him, and he blurts out. ‘I’m sorry.’
You stare at him, stunned. ‘What?’
Under his whiskers, his cheeks flush in embarrassment, and he rambles, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinkin’. You deserve better sweetheart, here, let me -’
You almost lose your balance keeping the sweater out of his reach. ‘Don’t you dare, Joel Miller.’
Confused, he watches you rise to your feet, shucking your outer coat and another layer. ‘What are you doin’?’
Grabbing the sweater, you slide it over your head and thread your arms through the sleeves. The soft knit drapes over your curves, too big over your shoulders and the hem falling unevenly, higher on the right side than the left. One sleeve is long enough to cover half your hand, while the other sits right on the wrist.
And yet. 
You’re beaming like you just picked up something at Bloomin’dales or whatever the fuck those department stores were called back then. 
‘I love it,’ you declare, no trace of irony in your voice, as hard as he’s trying to find it.
He scoffs in disbelief. ‘C’mon, sweetheart, you’re just sayin’ it -’
You surprise him, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and dragging him towards you to plant a firm kiss on his lips. 
‘I love it,’ you repeat slowly, with conviction, as if willing him to believe you. ‘Thank you.’
He doesn’t quite still, but he smiles and kisses you back. ‘Merry Christmas, sweetheart.’
‘Since we’re doing this -’ you trail off, sliding out of his grip to reach around the back of the tree, pulling out a neatly wrapped gift. ‘This is for you.’
Joel pauses. 
For him.
For the longest time, nothing had been for him unless it was soul-crushing grief and pain.
And yet here it is - his name on the tag written in your neat handwriting. Something he can hold in his hands. For him.
His fingers tremble when he reaches out. The package is soft, and the paper crackles under his grip. He all but tears it open, uncaring of the way the wrapping falls to the floor.
A laugh bubbles out of his throat, and you look relieved at his reaction. ‘You like it?’
It’s not quite a Santa hat. It’s a chunky dark red beanie with a white brim folded back, and topped with a white pompom. 
‘My ears were so cold walkin’ over. It’s perfect,’ he says, pulling it over the crown of his head. Of course, it fits just right, sliding soft and warm over his ears. He adds with a wink, ‘Y’know what, I might just shimmy down some chimneys after dinner.’
‘As long as you shimmy down mine too,’ you retort, not hearing the euphemism.
Joel quirks an eyebrow at that, one large palm squeezing your backside through the layers. ‘That an open invitation, sweetheart?’
You duck your head, more out of habit than actual shyness, with mischief in your smile. ‘Don’t be so crude, Joel Miller.’
Adjusting his new hat so that it sits comfortably, he points at the pompom and jokes, ‘Shame I can’t wear this on patrols.’
Right on cue, you hold up a finger. ‘Funny you should say that.’
He chuckles when you pull out a second, plain black beanie, as if out of thin air. ‘You really thought of everythin’, sweetheart.’
You shrug playfully. ‘I’m smart like that.’
‘I know you are,’ he smiles.
‘Merry Christmas, Joel.’
His lips find yours again in a slow, lingering kiss that has you leaning into him for more when he pulls back. ‘Thank you. For everythin’.’
You hold his gaze - heavy with meaning, light with joy. It wouldn’t take more than a tilt of the head towards the bedroom to derail your evening plans, and you both know it.
In the end, you’re the one who stays strong. Taking one step back from his warmth, you reach for your coat. ‘We’re late, we should go.’
His eyes widen. ‘Wait - you’re not wearin’ that to dinner are you?’
‘Of course I am,’ you say, buttoning up your coat over the sweater.
‘You don’t have to, sweetheart,’ he almost pleads with you.
You grin, heading for the door, blowing out candles as you go. ‘Too bad, I’m never taking it off.’
Joel shakes his head with a wry huff. ‘Well, I hope not never -’
You have one foot out the door when you suddenly remember. ‘I almost forgot - you left your gloves here last time. They’re in the cupboard by the door.’
Ah, that’s where they went. He opens the drawer and pulls them on, one after the other, the leather, worn smooth with age, creaking as he wraps his fingers around the handles of the carrier bag.
Joel is about to follow you out the door when he pauses over the threshold. Glancing down at the black beanie in his grasp, he reaches up and hooks it on the coat rack, nestled among your clothes.
He hopes that when the time comes for him to wear it for the first time - maybe on a patrol that will take him away from you for a few days - it will smell like you.
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Gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics ❄️
More notes: I hope I will return to the main series in the new year. I've missed these two lovebirds, I hope you enjoyed this little interlude! ❤️
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heartsofminds · 5 months
Text
my life is changing every day, in every possible way
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“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?” or It's Halloween, Bradley has a precocious eleven-month-old daughter, and he might be in love with her impromptu babysitter.
A/N: soooo here's a halloween thing that i kind of just threw together? i'm OBSESSED with bradley being a girl dad and just love this little girl i came up with (@gretagerwigsmuse knows that we love quincy in this household). anywho, enjoy some poorly written dadley and this super pointless halloween drabble? hope y'all had a good holiday and am sooo looking forward to writing more of this daddy/daughter duo !
“Whatever it is, Bradshaw, you’re not excused this time.” 
Jake Seresin slams his locker shut and shoves his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. The heel of his boot is kicked up, making a soft “thud” on the hollow metal as he leans his back against it. He crosses his arms to lie in front of his chest and adjusts his watch.
The small wooden bench screwed into the linoleum tile perches Bradley Bradshaw, who sits with his elbows digging into the tops of his thighs and his back aching something awful. He softly grunts before he turns to release some of the pressure there. The resounding crack it makes causes Jake to grimace a little before his face returns to the snarky default position it always seems to have. 
“I’m sorry I’m an adult? And have responsibilities?” Bradley rolls his eyes and traces his index finger around a watermark on the wood next to him. 
He notices his Nalgene water bottle sweating and subconsciously picks it up, using the bottom of his t-shirt to dry the wet spots it left in its wake. Jake and Natasha watch him without his knowledge and share a knowing look with each other, but remain silent. Sometimes it’s hard to determine if Bradley’s behavior is because he’s in a vastly different life stage than they are, or if it’s just a Bradley thing. 
Trying to figure it out makes everyone’s brains hurt so they often just let it be. 
The blonde groans again. “You say it like flying a billion-dollar aircraft every single day isn’t a huge responsibility,” he licks his lips before throwing his head back, “Can you take that huge stick out of your ass for once and let yourself have fun?” 
“I have a baby, shithead. I can’t just stop being a dad to go to a Halloween party.” 
Javy slams his locker shut and prances over to Jake and Natasha. A wrinkle in his eyebrows starts to form as he thinks over Bradley’s statement. He finds himself standing next to Jake; his stance is identical and his bargaining skills are tuned and ready to be used. 
“It’s hardly a party at all, man. It’s a costume, a couple of beers at Pen’s place, and maybe one other bar for like an hour,” he speaks and pats Bradley’s shoulder, “Live a little.” 
Bradley sighs; the puff of air housing a hint of playfulness and a hint of annoyance. He knows he’s already lost and that there is absolutely no way he’s getting out of it this time. And so help him God, he can’t believe he’s thinking this, but maybe what Jake and Javy are saying doesn’t sound like too bad of a plan. 
It would be good for him. It would be good them. It would be good for Quincy, and if any of the parenting magazine articles (that he’s kind of ashamed to have budgeted for paying for the subscriptions, if he’s being honest) had anything to say about it, children thrive when their parents are thriving. 
Besides, Penny and Mav have kinda been on his ass about it. Because yeah, she goes to daycare during the day and yes, she’s technically been around other kids and for sure has had her share of being around adults, but she’s one anxious biting attack away from being kicked out of daycare and all the people Bradley trusts (outside of Miss Charlene at the daycare who is a friend of Penny’s and was his babysitter when he was small) are up in the sky so he’s really running himself dry with options. 
Natasha calls it separation anxiety but Bradley calls it a bond. Which is true, Nat had agreed, but it wasn’t just about Quincy being attached. It was also about Bradley being just as attached, if not more. 
In the eleven months that Quincy Elaine Bradshaw had been on this Earth, Bradley hadn’t left her side for longer than four hours at a time. 
And he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s never really had anyone to call his own before or if it’s a “Papa Bear” thing or if there’s some unexplained biological phenomena that won’t allow him to be away from his daughter without spiraling, but he hardly thinks its a problem. . . .
Except when he leaves on his lunch break to go see her at daycare and she’s in a fit of hysterics whenever his hour break is up and he has to return to work. Or when she’s eleven months old and has never slept by herself in her own room before (which is why his back is so fucked, but he’ll never admit it). Or when she’s biting kids and teachers because she’s so anxious she doesn’t know what to do with herself. 
So, yeah. Maybe it is a problem and maybe the root of it all is guilt. 
He can’t let his daughter out of his sight because he can’t help but feel guilty for raising her the same way he was and giving her a ghost that she never asked for – a parent whose approval she will always seek despite never knowing who that person truly is. 
Something about that makes him feel like he has to make up time for two as a punishment for only being one, and being the one who can’t provide her everything she’ll ever need as a growing girl and eventually as a woman. 
“I don’t know,” he says lamely. He wraps his finger around the loose thread on his t-shirt and pulls it in one fell swoop. 
“Okay, fuck. You need to get out. What do you need?” Natasha pipes up, rolling her eyes before sitting down next to him. 
He raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth to answer but she cuts him off before he can. “What’s it gonna take? Do you need a sitter? A lobotomy? You need to live a little, dude.” 
“Well, we know the sitter’s not the issue. The kid’s cute as shit,” Jake speaks up and Bradley scoffs. 
“She’s so fucking cute,” Javy agrees and Bradley has to hide his grin despite being annoyed. 
He helped make the cutest baby ever. Who wouldn’t be obnoxiously proud about that? 
“Absolutely adorable. People are lining up to babysit her,” Reuben Fitch interrupts and joins the group of aviators which further puts a pin in Bradley’s desire to decline the invitation. Rueben doesn’t involve himself in Jake or Javy’s bullshit very often, but when he does, it’s evident that the idea isn’t absolutely batshit crazy. 
Bradley gives him a playful middle finger before straightening his posture and coming to the realization that maybe Jake was right for once. 
“Yeah.” Holy fucking shit. “Rueben’s wife would put her in her pocket and take her home if you let her.” 
And the golden rule is that if Bob is game for something, then everyone else should be. So now he really has no excuse to not go out on Halloween night because he has the Southern Californian equivalent of the fucking Pope giving his two cents on to why he needs to go. 
Fuck you, Bob Floyd for always being the voice of reason. 
“See? Everyone agrees. You’re the odd one out so it’s only fair,” Jake taunts again. Everyone around Bradley seems to be shaking their head in agreement to which he realizes that he’s stuck and there’s no way he won’t be in attendance to the group’s Halloween plans. 
“But it’s her first Halloween,” he tries to reason, “I can’t leave her alone on her first one.” 
Javy sighs. “She’s not even gonna remember it. Yeah it’s a holiday but she’s not missing out on much. She doesn’t even have teeth yet.” 
Jake laughs sarcastically. “Q-dawg’s been chompin’ away on all of her little daycare friends. Haven’t you heard?” 
Bradley narrows his eyes. “Fuck you! I thought you left the room when I was on the phone with the daycare.” 
“Her business is our business now, Bradshaw. Aren’t we allowed uncle duties?” Reuben teases. Natasha clears her throat to interrupt him. “And aunt duties?”  
“Auntie Nat reigns superior and we all know it, but holy shit. She’s biting people? How is she more badass than her dad?” Nat goads and shoves the back of Bradley’s head playfully. She chuckles at how slow his head pops back up and he mocks her laugh and sticks out his tongue at her. 
“Guys, c’mon. I can’t leave her with a sitter on her first Halloween.” Although he knows he sounds silly (and he feels silly saying it, too), his daughter is his best friend in some ways. Despite her not being able to walk yet and only having a vocabulary of a few words, he can’t help but know how deeply he loves her, and how much everything about her matters to him. 
“Then don’t,” Bob says, “Just bring her to Hard Deck for like an hour and then you can run home, meet the sitter, and then meet us wherever else we decide to go.” 
And sometimes Bradley hates how much sense Bob tends to make and wishes that he was wrong. That no, the Hard Deck isn’t a suitable place for a baby, and no, there’s absolutely no way Quincy would keep her cool while being there during one of the busiest nights of the year. 
But he knows it’s a lie because her grandparents are the owners, everyone loves her and fights over having their turn to hold her or even catch a glimpse of a baby smile directed at them, and the fact that Quincy has been to the Hard Deck enough to have developed an affinity for diluted cranberry juice over the Mott’s Tots apple juice sitting in his pantry. 
“Fuck, fine. But you’re finding me a fucking babysitter,” he speaks, pointing a finger between Jake and Natasha before standing up abruptly. He turns on his heel and makes his way toward the door, knowing the only way he can make sense of the predicament he’s put himself in can be solved by seeing his joyous baby girl. 
The sounds of muffled chuckles and shoes squeaking on the ground fill the silence of Bradley’s absence; all of their eyes flitting to each other to decipher if they actually made the most stubborn man alive give into their bidding with minimal effort. 
“Did we just make Rooster. . .cave?” Reuben speaks, his arms coming up to cross in front of his chest. His thumb rolls his wedding band around on his ring finger as he waits for someone else to speak up.
“Huh,” Jake huffs, “I think we did.” 
“So I’m guessing the lobotomy is out of the question,” Mickey ponders out loud, “Y’all better know a damn good babysitter.” 
Natasha and Jake’s eyes widen in realization. They better find a damn good babysitter soon.
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Carrying a baby is harder than it looks. 
Bradley swears that his daughter is an eighty-year-old woman trapped in the body of a drooly and overly excitable eleven-month-old.
It's not the worst thing in the world, he figures. 
But God, is she giving his arms a workout from the amount of times she’s tried to contort her small body to get a good look at all the ruckus and excitement going on around her. It’s when Bradley feels a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck that he realizes the costume he’s picked may not have been the smartest move; especially when no one seems to get what he’s supposed to be. 
Secreting sweat by the gallon seems like an unfair exchange to be dressed in what he thinks is the greatest daddy-daughter costume of all time. The flannel shirt he has on and the overwhelmingly hot coveralls to go with it was a good idea in theory (that theory being how frigid the Halloweens he used to spend in northern Virginia were when he was a little kid). 
He finally makes it to the saloon-style doors of the bar and is met with “Thriller” by Michael Jackson playing from the overhead speakers above him. Every surface seems to be decked out in cobwebs and dark purple and neon green spiders, and Quincy stares in awe at all the patrons meddling about around her before making grabby hands at the faux snakes dangling around the jukebox. 
She almost slips out of Bradley’s grasp before being wrangled back to a stable position by her chunky rolled arms. 
“Jesus, girl,” he gasps, swallowing the lump in his throat while Quincy giggles in his face. “You tryna kill me here?” 
“Well look who it is!” Penny’s teasing voice sounds in his ears. 
Quincy’s little eyes catch the figure of her faux grandma and she begins to squeal in her father’s ear before reaching her arms as far out as they can go; reaching and moving so frantically it looks as if she’s attempting to swim in midair. 
Penny moves closer to them and raises her eyebrows. Her arms instinctively reach out and she grabs Quincy from Bradley. Her fingers trace the burgundy felt of her costume before she tickles the baby. Quincy erupts in a fit of laughs. 
“What has your crazy daddy got you dressed as?” she teases, her elbow coming out to knock Bradley in his ribs playfully. “Are you an. . .apple?” 
Bradley huffs and rolls his eyes. His gaze instinctively lands on his daughter who clasps her hands on Penny’s face and traces her chubby (and insanely sticky) baby fingers across her red lips. She puckers her lips and chuckles to herself at Quincy’s amazement of red lipstick. 
“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?” 
Penny’s eyes flicker between Bradley and the baby she holds in her arms. The splotchy rosy cheeks and honeyed hazel eyes tells the tale of twins, and she’s reminded of the little boy she used to casually see around Fightertown all those years ago dressed in different variants of the same dinosaur on Halloween. 
“Sweetheart, you’re saying it like it was the most obvious thing in the world,” she starts, simultaneously giving her attention to Quincy and the million and one different things going on around her, “I almost thought she was one of the cement balls outside of Target but realized the red was too dark.” 
He groans, his eyebrows furrowing together and a slight scowl forming on his face. Penny’s heart is warmed because his daughter has a propensity to make the same face when she’s frustrated. 
A beat absent of dialouge passes. Hoots and hollers fill the silence as well as strangers stopping by to coo at Quincy before being on their way to the pool table of their desire. Quincy babbles and talks as if she’s a lawyer prosecuting a case and Bradley’s heart softens at how animated she is. 
Her awkward tongue pushes out more saliva than what would be socially acceptable and the drool begins to gather on her face. He reaches out and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of his flannel while she flops like a dead fish away from the makeshift napkin in protest. 
God, this girl is so dramatic. 
“I handmade it,” he says softly. He runs a dry part of his sleeve across her lips more firmly to ensure he had gotten all the wetness. 
Penny hums in acknowledgement. “And you did good.” 
And he doesn’t know why he’s expecting it; why he’s waiting on Penny (of all people) to see him picking a scab and rub more salt in the wound. He knows that she would never do that and he knows that most of the people (if not all of the people who he considers close to him) see him that way. He knows that people know he’s trying his best and that he’s doing everything he can. 
Bradley knows but he just can’t make himself feel it, and he can never figure out why. 
Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad. Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad without a “real” mom or dad to show him the way. Maybe it’s because he’s finally gotten used to having someone around who relies on him and needs him and loves him unconditionally, and he’s terrified of doing something that will make her sit on a couch in a therapist office and say the words that he’s trying his best to avoid: “My dad doesn’t love me enough.” 
Bradley knows what it feels like to not be loved enough. Bradley knows what it feels like to not be liked enough. But Bradley doesn’t know what it feels like to not try hard enough, and that is something he is determined to never stop doing when it comes to his baby. 
“You’re saying it like I didn’t though.” 
Penny’s face falls and she shifts her gaze from Bradley’s daughter to him. 
“Oh, Bradley,” she sighs, her open palm coming up to cup his face, “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re an amazing dad and you’re doing a fantastic job.” 
He grabs her hand with his and gives her a weak smile in return. 
“Doesn’t feel like it, though.” 
He’s usually not one for feeling sorry for himself. He’s never been too keen on throwing pity parties and inviting everyone he knows to them, and in all actuality, he doesn’t know why this bid for reassurance that he’s serving Penny is even coming up. 
“No. Stop it. No,” she playfully chides, tickling Quincy to make her erupt into a ball of silent baby chuckles. “You’re an amazing dad and everyone knows it. You’re her world and that’s all that matters.” 
Bradley opens his mouth to respond but can’t find the words to accept her compliment. He simply nods his head before the already loud noise of the bar is split by an even louder whistle. 
His neck cranes around to see his group of friends waving him over to the pool table and the anchored weight of doom starts to sink in his stomach. He remains frozen with his hands in his pockets and his body emitting heat from his personal heater of rubber waders. He feels like a seven year old at the park again; his mother standing before him and wordlessly encouraging him to go play and make friends. 
The high pitched scream of his daughter is heard as Maverick approaches. Both Penny and Bradley wince more and watch as his daughter mindlessly babbles and almost flies out of Penny’s grasp in favor of him. 
Pete smiles to himself before grabbing her from Penny. She rolls her eyes at him and he playfully sticks out his tongue. 
“Like father, like daughter,” he says, “M’never not a Bradshaw kid’s favorite.” Quincy sticks her chubby fingers near Maverick’s mouth and squeals as he pretends to bite them. 
“Did the past fifteen years just. . .not happen?” Bradley quips. In the past, the snarky comment would have made Maverick freeze on the spot but since they’ve repaired their relationship, (and Quincy’s frequent stays at Nana Pen and Papa Mav’s on the weekends) the insult rolls off Maverick’s shoulders into oblivion. 
“You’re making fun of the old timer, but I’ve been havin’ myself a grand ole time and you’re in the corner pouting like you’re in timeout,” he comments back, “Don’t you have friends or something?” 
“I’m just – taking my time to get over there.” They all look as Jake lets out an obnoxiously loud holler after hitting the eight ball into the pocket to win his pool game. “M’trying to choose joy tonight.” 
“And choosing bad costumes too.” Maverick holds his granddaughter out in front of him to get a full fledged look at her costume. She kicks her legs in the air gleefully before he pulls her back to his chest. “Who makes their kid the…Target balls?” 
Bradley lets out a groan and rubs at his temples. “Oh my God! She’s a cranberry!” 
“Love you to pieces, kid but I think you need your vision checked. You can’t put a kid inside a red sphere and call it a cranberry,” his finger comes out to poke his granddaughter and he’s met with a giggle, “A quack doesn’t always mean duck.” 
“Aren’t you, like, 5’4 –” 
Penny interrupts the conversation with her hands and quickly grabs Quincy from Maverick’s hold. He flashes her a small pout and is met with the ice cold glare of his girlfriend. 
“Bradley, go talk to your friends, babe. We’ll bring her over in a second,” she says, squeezing Pete’s bicep to drag him with her to the bar. 
“But –” they both begin to complain in unison. Penny gives them a pointed look that immediately shuts them both up. 
“Let’s go get some cranberry juice! How does that sound?” she asks Quincy who begins to smile and clap her hands in approval. Penny turns on her heel to head to the back while Maverick stands frozen in front of his nephew. 
“Do you really think I’m only 5’4?” he meekly asks, genuine concern covering his face. 
Bradley shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. The paper  “Ocean Spray” label he’s taped onto his waders bends and he mentally cringes at the crease he knows will probably be there. 
“I mean, sometimes when you turn to the side it’s hard to imagine that you’re actually 5’7.” 
“You don’t mean that.” 
“I said, let’s go get some juice!” Penny’s yells, annoyance dripping off her tone. Maverick claps Bradley on the shoulder before retreating to go accompany Penny in getting Quincy copious amounts of diluted cranberry juice. 
With Maverick’s departure, Bradley realizes that he actually has to go interact with his friends. After all, they’re the reason that he’s here. But when he takes in the swell and dip of the loudness that is contingent on the World Series playing on the televisions around him, he wonders if he’s made the wrong choice tonight. 
He imagines that he would’ve taken Quincy up the street to trick or treat at a few houses before her impatience and curiosity made her lose interest in the activity. They would have abandoned trick or treating and ended up on the couch where she would be cuddled up beside him with her feet tucked somewhere in between his ribs (because she seems to have a talent for finding the most tender spots on his body to lay) and stroking the tip of his mustache with her perpetually sticky fingers as she begins to doze off. They would be probably watching It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown before her bedtime came, and she would be read three books, tucked in, and off to sleep before he caved and pulled her from her crib and let her sleep with him in his bed. 
While it’s mundane and certainly not what he would have considered the epitome of “fun” even two years ago, he feels a weird ache in his chest knowing that he’s missing out on that reality. But he has to snap out of it if he doesn’t want to be miserable and ruin everyone’s night. 
Besides, Jake and Nat promised him free drinks all night and they already found him a babysitter and paid her for him. He’s in too deep to back out now.
Bradley takes a deep breath before approaching his friends and tries to ignore the ringing in his ears as Jake and Mickey scream as the Texas Rangers score their first homerun of the game. 
“Look who finally decided to show up!” Reuben teases, forcing a beer into his hand that had been on standby until Bradley’s arrival. 
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too excited,” he deadpans before moving around the group and telling everyone hello. 
He’s met with joy and little jabs about graduating to “old timer” status that he playfully ignores. Bradley knows that they’re all just joking with him and that they mean no harm by their comments. Even he’s slightly surprised that he went through with coming out tonight; not to mention coming out while wearing a costume. 
His eyes catch Jake slyly handing over a twenty dollar bill to Javy accompanied by a middle finger before he turns his attention to Bradley. 
He can already sense the half-assed greeting he’s about to get from him before Jake even begins to speak. 
“Got a lot of questions for you but I’ll start with this one,” Jake begins and Bradley rolls his eyes before he finishes his statement, “What the fuck are you supposed to be?” 
He groans before pointing to the crumpled “Ocean Spray” label taped to his front. “Fucking Christ. Does no one know where the fuck cranberry juice comes from?” 
Jake laughs before taking a long swig of his beer. His ridiculous belt buckle and cowboy boots tell Bradley exactly what he’s supposed to be. Well, that and the fact that for as long as he’s known Jake, he’s always the same thing every year for Halloween. 
Leave the Texan to always be a cowboy. 
“My first guess was one of the guys from “Deadliest Catch” but since you wanna be a diva about it. . .I’ll just pretend like the Ocean Spray farmer was beyond fuckin’ obvious” he takes a long swig from the beer bottle he has in his hand, “But that’s not important. Where’s our girl?”
Bradley sighs and looks around near the back of the bar where he knows his baby is being given the spotlight by all the older Hard Deck patrons that can’t believe that, “Little Bradley Bradshaw has a baby now!” He’s known that he’s always had a knack for attention, but his daughter lives for the limelight. He’s never known anyone in his life to be so incredibly outgoing, nevermind the fact that Quincy is already the life of the party and she can’t even speak coherently yet. 
“Pen and Mav took her to get cranberry juice,” he emphasizes the word and Jake rolls his eyes at him this time instead of the reverse, “They’re gonna bring her by in a bit.” 
Natasha makes her way over to the two men; extra smiley and smelling like she had bathed in tequila. Natasha always parties hard but never lets it keep her down. Her ability to drink liquor like a fish and be perfectly fine the next morning has always been a mystery to Bradley. She’s called Phoenix for a reason, he knows. 
“Bradley!” she cheers. Her dark hair is hidden by a copper colored wig and he almost wouldn’t recognize her if he hadn’t known her face so well. The green eye makeup and the plastic vines wrapped around her shoulders and legs cue him into the fact that she’s dressed up as Poison Ivy.  
“Hey!” he cheers back, matching her enthusiasm. 
“You’re the fisher guys from “Deadliest Catch”! That’s so clever!” 
Bradley’s face drops and Jake begins to lose his composure beside him. Natasha’s eyes immediately soften with worry and she starts to search for the words to profusely apologize. 
“No I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings! I swear it! I was just – I thought — I think that it’s really cool and the overall thingies look great on you! I’m so sorry,” she word vomits and Jake continues to laugh hysterically. 
“Nat, it’s okay. I’m not mad,” he speaks gently, “Just calm down a little.” 
She takes a deep breath and Bradley can physically see her brain wipe the incident away as if it had never happened. He’s been her best friend for years and knows what she looks like when she’s close to being black out drunk. There’s maybe a thirty-five percent chance she even remembers this interaction at all. She blinks blankly at him before getting distracted by the baseball game and almost topples over with how fast she turned her head. 
Jake lightly smacks Bradley’s chest with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna go grab her a water. You want anything?” he asks, gently. He doesn’t want Natasha to overhear him because they both know that she’ll refuse his help no matter what state she’s in. 
He shakes his head “no” before hearing the clunk of his boots carrying him to the bar, leaving him and Natsaha alone in the pocket of the bar that their friend group has claimed as their own.
Natasha’s eyes follow Jake’s path to the bar and Bradley has to hide his grin and hold his tongue to not set her off while she’s so vulnerable. Natasha has always been the tiniest bit sweet on Jake but is too stubborn to admit it. Even with all the logical circuits in her brain turned off, she refuses to let herself ponder on this fact for longer than a few seconds. She catches herself staring at the blonde in a half-assed Halloween costume before she returns her attention to Bradley. 
And just as expected, she changes the subject as if their earlier conversation had never even happened. 
“Where’s Quincy Wincey?” she asks and Bradley chuckles. 
Even with no coherent thoughts in mind, Natasha still loves his daughter and wants nothing more than to see her. 
“She’s behind the bar with Pen and Mav. She’ll be here shortly.” 
Natasha nods before opening her mouth again. “You know, you’re a great dad, B.” 
Her sudden revelation takes the words out of Bradley’s mouth. He’s known Natasha Trace for nearly fifteen years and he has never known her to give out genuine compliments half-assed. He has half the mind to ask her what she means by it, but knows that it’s no use given the state she’s in. 
All that matters is that she really means it, so he settles for a simple “Thank you” instead. 
Jake announces his return by forcing a cup of ice water into Natasha’s hand which she gripes about but begins to drink anyway. 
“Your daughter’s back there chummin’ it up, by the way,” Jake states simply and Bradley pauses. 
“What do you mean?” His hands come out to rest on his hips. 
“Well, for starters,” he begins, unwrapping a toothpick and putting it in his mouth, “She’s got people handing her candy and peanuts into a little paper bag. She’s being pretty efficient about it if I say so myself. Had half the mind to grab her from Mav while I was up there cause I wanna see her, but I didn’t wanna get in the way of her business efforts.” 
“She’s what?” 
“Paper bag. Candy. Peanuts,” Jake lists, “C’mon, man. Keep up!” 
Bradley stalks toward the bar to go get his daughter. He’s not angry, in any sense of the word, but kind of disappointed given that she’s technically trick or treating for the first time and he’s not there to witness it. Part of him is starting to feel restless at his lack of interaction with her and wants her back in his arms immediately. 
“Hey, don’t insert yourself in her business endeavors! Be happy your daughter is likable. We all know she doesn’t get it from you,” Jake shouts before returning his attention to the World Series playing out in front of him. 
By the time Bradley arrives to the bar top, he takes note of exactly what Jake had seen upon his visit. There is his daughter with ruddy cheeks and a toothy grin absolutely hamming up her cuteness at some captains and their wives with Maverick holding her up so she can stand semi-confidently on the table. Her little fist holds a brown paper bag that Penny uses for her peanuts and is full with candy and crinkled due to her lack of a proper graspar reflex. 
His daughter is a world class charmer and she has an equally charming grandpa to help her do her bidding. 
“Bradley!” Maverick cheers, turning Quincy his direction so that she can have eyes on her dad. 
Like magic, she abandons the little bag she was holding in favor of the arms of her father. He grabs her without hesitation and she glues herself to his side as if it’s her permanent position. 
“You better not be making my baby a con artist, Mav,” he weakly threatens. He coos at Quincy and marvels in the way she lays her head on his shoulder. 
“Hardly. She’s a people magnet, kid. Everyone would be happy to do anything she wanted them to do.” 
Bradley sighs, knowing that he’s missed one of her milestones. This is the price he’ll have to pay forever with being a more than single parent with the kind of job he has. He swallows the disappointment down and saves it for later. He knows that it’ll come up another time anyway, so why even bother with addressing it now? 
“You’re treating my kid like a Kennedy, Mav. Don’t get any ideas on how to sneak her onto base to get you out of trouble.” 
Pete laughs and holds up his hands in defeat. “Can’t make any promises,” he simply says, “Don’t you have to go meet the sitter soon?” 
Bradley groans at the gentle reminder his uncle is giving him. Maverick doesn’t know what it’s like to be a parent in the slightest, but he knows what good parenting looks like. He had seen it with Goose and how much he had cared for Bradley in the very short amount of time he was given, there’s no doubt in his mind that Bradley is the best dad that Quincy could ever ask for. 
But what he also knows is how perfectionistic and borderline obsessive his nephew can be. He deserves a break and a break Maverick knows will be spent in good company with people who love him. 
Bradley deserves this, and he knows that Mav’s gentle reminder is more of an order telling him to be kind to himself. 
He looks down at his watch and sees the little hand inching towards the eight. “Yeah. We need to get going.” 
Pete leans over and gives Quincy a kiss on the head as a “goodbye” before shoving the paper bag of candy into her father’s hand. 
He closes his hand around Bradley’s fist and gives it a firm shake. “Have fun tonight. You deserve it.” 
Bradley nods before bidding goodbye to Penny who is beyond excited at the idea of Bradley finally going out, baby free, for the first time since he found out he was going to be a father. 
And when his daughter incoherently hums along to “The Girl is Mine” by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney in the backseat, Bradley knows how hard leaving her alone tonight is truly going to be. 
She shouts at him which he knows is her trying to get his attention to sing along with her. 
“You ready, babe?” he asks, eyes flitting up to peek at her in his rearview mirror, “Because, the doggone girl is mine.” 
Quincy bursts into a fit of baby giggles as he tries to ignore the feeling of impending doom brewing in his chest. He grabs a piece of chalky bubble gum from her candy bag and pops it in his mouth. He cringes as he chews. 
Who the fuck gives gum to a baby? 
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Bradley doesn’t know why his heart is pounding out of his chest. 
He knows that he’ll only be gone for two hours maximum and that Quincy will probably sleep the entire time anyway. She may be precocious and charming, but she loves bedtime more than anything, and from the active night she’s had, he’d be surprised if she even made it fifteen minutes before passing out somewhere on the living room floor. 
He trusts Natasha’s judgement (and Jake’s, he’ll begrudantly admit) and he knows the sitter they found for him is nothing less than amazing. You’re a childhood friend of Natasha’s that had recently moved to the area and had been Jake’s date one time to the Navy Ball six years ago (which he had learned from an Instagram post dated from 2017). 
And Bradley will say he doesn’t know much about you (outside of his deep dive stalk that he had done days before, but that remains beside the point, he thinks) but that would be a big fat lie. He feels a little pathetic to admit that he had created a faux LinkedIn profile to be able to look you up and see your credentials as well as finding every mutual follower you had amassed between Natasha, Jake, Javy, and Bob. 
And it’s a little creepy, he admits, but he’s only just looking out for the safety of his daughter! Just because you know his friends doesn’t mean that he knows you (which he knows is wildly untrue given the overwhelming amount of Internet stalking he had done on you in the past week). 
Bradley is burning a hole into his living room floor by pacing back and forth with his daughter in his arms. As anticipated, she’s started to doze off and he chuckles to himself. Quincy loves bedtime and that remains uncontested by the way her little lips are pursed and she lets out light snores. 
The sound of a car door opening and shutting keys him into being aware of your presence and he scares you half to death because he opens the door before you can knock; your knuckles almost coming into contact with his chin had you not been paying attention. 
“Oh,” you mummer, “Ummm. You’re Bradley, right?” 
And you’ve never felt as dumb as you do now because of course he’s Bradley. You know what he looks like and the baby asleep on his shoulder and the last name “Bradshaw” printed on the doormat outside should be enough for you to deductively reason that that’s him right in front of you. 
Not to mention, you’ve been Internet stalking him and know what he looks like for a fact because of the amount of photos Natasha has of him on her Instagram and in her story highlights. You had always found him attractive whenever your eyes graced those pictures, but that’s all it was; a fleeting thought that was never watered and was gone as soon as it was there. 
But now that he’s in front of you, now that you’re getting a really good look at him holding a precious baby on his hip and somehow making rubber waders look amazing, your mouth starts to get dry and your heartbeat starts to quicken. 
“You must be the sitter,” he declares and he mentally kicks himself for how cold he’s coming off. His nerves have a tendency to put him into fight or flight and the pressure of being in your presence merely adds to that. 
He clears his throat when he notices your lips forming a thin line and rejection teeming from your body language. 
Fuck. Why do I always do this? 
“Oh! Uh – Come in,” he steps aside and closes the door behind you as you walk in. 
From what you know about Bradley, you know that he’s a single dad who had a less than stellar record for wanting female companionship. When Nat would come to Williamsburg to visit you all those years ago when you were fresh out of undergrad and working as a TA, barely scraping enough money to pay your rent, she would lay on your floor and crone about how she had a friend who never seemed to be able to keep a girlfriend. 
But he was amazing, she would insist, and he’s such an awesome person, she would say. Somehow though, Bradley always seemed to be heartbroken and searching for the next way to smash what little he had left of it into unsalvageable pieces. 
Even though that was close to a decade ago, you know that the fact remains true when you peer across the pictures in his living room. Photos of a blonde couple and a dark haird little boy that you know are his parents. Photos of him with the infamous and insane Maverick. Photos of him with his daughter, but no photos of him and his daughter’s mother; let alone a girlfriend of any kind. 
“So she’ll probably sleep the entire time. Don’t put her in her crib because she’ll scream bloody murder and not calm down for a long time so you’re free to keep her on the couch or put her in my bed,” he lays her down in the corner of his couch and puts the large blanket laying there on her lower half, “She’s allergic to strawberries but I don’t think she’s gonna be eating anything while you’re here and I don’t have strawberries in the house.” 
He pauses, wracking his brain for more information to tell you that wouldn’t just be him retelling his daughter’s entire life story. “Oh! This is kind of weird, but if she wakes up and won’t go back to sleep, just play “The Girl is Mine” –” 
“The Paul McCartney song?” you question. Your eyes search his face and are full of amusement. He can’t help but feel his chest flutter at the little glimmer they give off. 
Focus. You can’t flirt with the babysitter. What’s wrong with you? 
“Well, it’s Michael Jackson’s song featuring Paul McCartney but yeah. It usually calms her right down and she’ll settle enough to doze back off.”  
He knows that his daughter is more than quirky. Sometimes he settles for the word “particular,” but he knows quirky is the right one to use. 
You start to laugh a little. “That’s so –” 
“Weird?” he inserts, “Yeah, I know. I’m raising a sixty-year-old but there could be worse songs. Be grateful she’s phased out of only wanting to listen to “Break Free” because there’s nothing worse than listening to EDM on a loop at three AM because she won’t fall asleep unless it’s playing.” 
You shake your head and agree. “Well, I promise that we’ll behave ourselves and not get into anything too crazy. She’s adorable, you know, so if she asks, I don’t know if I can stand it to say no.”
You can’t flirt with her dad. You can’t be the babysitter that’s trying to get banged by the dad. What’s wrong with you? 
He chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll see to that. Her sitter is pretty cute too so I think I’d be pretty forgiving.” 
And fuck. Is he, is he flirting with you? 
You’re left speechless before his phone rings and he rolls his eyes before grabbing it off the entryway table. 
“Hang on a sec,” he says before swiping across the screen to answer. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Jake. I’m on the way.” 
He grabs his keys and starts heading toward the door, his cell phone wedged between his shoulder and ear and you have to stop yourself from drooling. “Calm the fuck down, dude. I’m leaving like right now. . .Yes, I’m literally walking out the door – Can you chill? I’ll be there when I get there?” 
He bids you goodbye with a simple wave before shutting the door and running to his car. The sound of the front door closing instantly wakes Quincy who shoots her head up and frantically swivels it around in pursuit of her father. When she can’t spot him, her bottom lip droops and starts to wobble. 
He bids you goodbye with a simple wave before shutting the door and running to his car. The sound of the front door closing instantly wakes Quincy who shoots her head up and frantically swivels it around in pursuit of her father. When she can’t spot him, her bottom lip droops and starts to wobble. 
She spots you and immediately lifts her arms up, telling you that she wants to be held. You graciously comply and coo softly to her and marvel in the way she instantly koalas to your side as if she had always had a spot there and had always known you. 
Part of you thinks that it’s fate. That in some way, you’re meant to be in her life and meant to stick around but you know that this silly schoolgirl thinking will only get your heart smashed to pieces. You decide to ignore it. 
Besides, Natasha would kill you if you ever expressed to her how hot you found her other best friend. 
Some things just aren’t meant to be. 
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Bradley jogs into the next bar that his friends had decided to go to with a slight smile on his face. He scans the crowd and spots Jake and Bob trying to hold up a beyond inebriated Natasha. 
“You’re awful happ — Oh dear God. Don’t tell me you screwed the sitter,”  Jake greets and Bob looks away bashfully once the statement leaves Jake’s mouth. 
Bradley mocks him before helping them guide Natasha to a booth. 
“Can you ever just say "hello" like a normal person? Do you always have to be bitchy?” he remarks. 
Jake lets Natasha rest her head on his shoulder and looks down to check on her. “It was just a comment. You know we picked her because we wanna set you guys up, right?” 
Bradley’s world stops. He raises his eyebrows and feels his mouth go dry. 
“You what?” 
“I mean, she’s cute. She’s smart. She loves kids and she obviously didn’t vom on you from getting a look at your face, so I assume it went well,” he starts listing his reasonings on his fingers, “You also bounced in here like you have a can of jumping beans shoved up your ass so you’re giddy about something.” 
Bradley scoffs. “I do not have anything shoved up my a– Why do you care so much about who I’m seeing?” 
Jake looks at Bob who starts to shrink a little in his seat. He instantly knows that the set up wasn’t all just Jake and Nat. It was probably the entire squadron. 
“We want you to be happy, dude. I mean, this is a good opportunity for you and for Quincy,” Bob starts and Bradley knows that he needs to listen and take it into actual consideration if he knows what’s good for him. 
Jake and Natasha are class A meddlers, but everyone else getting involved shows how much this matters to him.
“You’re doing great and I know for a fact I’m not half the man you are, but you also gotta cut yourself some slack. You have to let yourself be happy, too. Life isn’t all just about sacrifice, you know?” 
“And we made a reservation for you both at that one rooftop restaurant downtown. There’s a $250 cancellation fee so you kinda have to go,” Jake adds and Bob facepalms himself at their friend’s lack of tact. 
“You did what?” 
“Also she thinks you’re hot. She texted Nat about you ten minutes ago and she’s way too drunk to respond so we did for her and as of now, “He totes thinks you’re hot too. Make a move when he gets back.”” 
Bradley’s mouth opens and closes as he tries to find the words to say. 
“Thank us when you’re getting us together about the proposal.” 
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There’s something about the way that life flashes before your eyes and there’s never anything you can do about it. 
You can take photos or collect trivial keepsakes. You can talk about the events in past tense and have the story change slightly every single time the words leave your mouth. You can dream about it in watercolor memory and try to make sense of it all. 
But no one ever tells you what it means when you’re standing before your daughter, a dark haired beauty with such elegance and spunk that it’s impossible to put a label on it, as she embarks on a journey to truly be her own person. 
No one ever tells you how to cry so you don’t smudge your mascara. No one ever tells you the hole in your heart this day will give you but the rainbow of joy that supersedes it when it’s all said and done. No one ever tells you how all the times she had a nightmare or scraped her knees or needed you sit at the forefront of your brain. 
And when you stand before your daughter dressed in a white dress and getting married to the love of her life, you can’t help but recall the night that you fell in love with her and remember the little baby she was all those years ago. 
So around all the orchids and wedding guests and happy tears, you settle to retell this moment in the only way you know how. 
“The first time I met my daughter, she was dressed as a cranberry.” 
And somehow, that statement is all you need to explain the love between the two of you. 
571 notes · View notes
chaethewriter · 1 year
Text
bf does my makeup q&a
Jack Champion x content creator!reader
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In which you record a Youtube video with your boyfriend, the one and only Jack Champion.
word count: 2,3k
Warning: fluff, lots of fluff that it's cringey, this took me 5 days to write bruh I'm lacking
tagged: @viivvriv @genesis4545 @norrisgf @darkcrusadestrawberry @drxwstxrkxy @wafflehousewrold
"Camera, set!" You put your camera on its stand as you flipped the screen around, pointing towards the front for you to see. Jack appeared on the screen as you did so, sitting on the couch in your room as in front of him stood a table with your two makeup bags and a mirror. You pressed record when everything was clear on screen— centered and not lopsided. You took a step back as you watched yourself on screen, thus making him immediately grab you by the waist, putting you down on his lap. He held you tightly against him, his arms caging you from behind, "Mmm, can't you start the intro now?" His face buried in your hair as he spoke, satisfied with the position they were in. But you had different ideas, as you abruptly got off his lap and took a seat next to him, your legs thrown over his lap, "you can't do my makeup when I'm on your lap, pookie." You booped his nose with your nail as the words left your lips. As a response, he groaned as he sat back, resting his back against the soft material of your coach, his hands behind his neck as he watched you through his eyelids. You took your phone out and clicked on the Instagram icon for today's video.
"Hello, pookies! Welcome back to the channel. Today is a very special video as I'm joined by my sweet Jack!" You wrapped your arms around his neck as you pulled him close to you, your cheeks pressed against one another. He brought his arms down, wrapping one around your waist. His gaze settled on your camera as he smiled, "Hi guys!" He greeted your viewers with his other hand raised into the air, doing his familiar greeting sign with his thumb, index, and middle finger. You pulled away from your boyfriend, putting your phone in your lap as you clapped in your hands, "Today! As the title said, Jack here will be doing my makeup as we answer relationship questions you guys have sent me through my story!"
"Follow her insta, by the way! Appearing right here!" Jack is almost a natural, as he did some magician movements with his hands for you to edit your username in. You watched as he did so, making you burst in a fit of giggles, "You're such a natural babe, you should start your own channel."
"What can I say? I'm Jack the Champ!"
"So cringey?" The two of you looked into each other's eyes as you laughed. You clung onto your stomach as Jack clung onto you for dear life. The laughing continued for like five minutes. You really had to cut this out later. "Okay! Okay! So Jack needs to recreate my usual makeup look with the makeup provided while we answer questions. I'm such a kind girlfriend, so I allow him to have a picture of my makeup look on his phone." You explained, pointing at his phone flat on the table with a picture of you opened.
"I just want to announce that I know what my girlfriend looks like and that I already had this picture of her in my gallery as well as hundreds of other pictures I snapped of her!" You rolled your eyes at that statement, a chuckle leaving your lips, "Yeah, yeah! Anyways, let's get started. What do we start with, babe?" You watch as Jack carefully unpacked your makeup bags instead of throwing them upside down. He knew how much you valued your products, and he made sure he was gentle with them. It gave you a warm feeling. He put everything down in a neat order, looking at all the different brushes and products, "so from my acting experience, because you know I'm an actor, they always use the prime thing first? Like to keep your makeup intact?" He looked at you with puppy eyes, asking for approval to his words. You knew you're supposed to not give him any hints, but you couldn't stop yourself from nodding your head. While Jack looked for the 'prime thing', as he said it, you scrolled through the questions you were asked.
"Found it!" The two of you exclaimed at the same time: Jack talking about the primer and you talking about a question. He picked the product up— the glass container filled with a white cream as a lid covered the pump. You smile as he pumped some on the back of his hand and taps it against your skin with his finger, putting both his hands on your cheeks right after and spreading it with his palms. You fell into a fit of giggles as he did so, "Jack!" You exclaimed with your face all squeezed up. Proud of his work, he pulled his palms away and awaited a question from one of the viewers. You brought your phone to your face as you read the first question, "How did the two of you meet? Jack, the honor is to you."
Jack brought his hand to his chin as he pretended to think, thus making you playfully slap his chest, "Don't pretend you don't know, now!"
"Okay okay! We actually met during my Avatar press tour. She was all over me and I thought she was incredibly pretty." He exaggerated what had actually happened and you barely wait to voice this out loud, "That's not how it went! Stop embarrassing me!" Your face heated up as you looked at the camera, "Yes we did meet at his press tour, but I wasn't 'all over him'! I just asked for a picture, posted it, and tagged him in it, and all of a sudden, he was in my DMs. Don't change the story now, mister Champion!"
This time, it was Jack's turn to blush immensely. His secret revealed how he actually made the first move. He recollected himself, before a grin spreaded across his face, "I mean what can I say? I'm a rizzer."
"Oh god, please never say that again."
The two of you laughed as he picked the eyeliner up, "You have a weird way of applying makeup, so this actually comes second. I don't understand why, though?" He uncapped the eyeliner, revealing the inbuild eyeliner brush. "Eyeliner is so hard to do! Like it takes so long cause I want it to be perfect and by the time I am done my foundation isn't correct anymore because of the wiping!" You whined your complaints out, already growing frustrated thinking about the struggle.
Jack put his hand on your waist as he pulled you closer to him, "Sit still, baby. I never did this before so uhm here goes nothing?"
"Don't poke my eyeball, please." You then kept your mouth shut, as if it helped with him doing better. Jack is incredibly delicate with it though— he held your chin with his hand while the eyeliner was in his other staring directly into your eyes as he concentrated on his work. You felt your skin heating up yet again, your grip on the eyeliner tube wet, thanks to your sweaty hands. It doesn't matter how long you're together with him. He never failed to make you feel nervous. He never broke eye contact, not even when he dipped the brush in the eyeliner. His breath fanned against your skin as he leaned in closer, "Are you nervous?"
"Shut up..." Your voice came out softer than expected. Unfortunately, he pulled back to admire his handywork. It's not even, but he is proud either way. "Next question, babe!" He playfully nudged you with a cheeky grin.
"You're so annoying!!" You quickly brought your phone to your face in an attempt to hide your embarrassed state. "But you love me!"
"What attracted you to Jack and vice versa? Definitely his goofy self. I usually don't look at gym guys, but Jack's goofy demeanor and just being himself made me attracted to him, no matter what he does."
"You're so cute!" Jack pulled you closer yet again, basically seating you on one of his as your legs dangled to one side. He faced the camera while his arms held you steady, "What made me attracted to her is definitely her way of texting. You feel her care and love and joy when she texts you. She's so sweet about it too, aren't you?" He faced you again with a cheeky grin, making you blush like crazy, "so annoying!!"
He picked your foundation and concealer off the table in front of you, "These are all too familiar to me, but I can't remember which one goes first?" He looked at you with puppy eyes, hoping to get an answer out of you. This time, you kept your mouth shut as you let him figure it out himself. He pouted at you, putting the concealer down. He uncapped the foundation and looked at the brushes. "Babe, which one? You should help me out, I wanna do good."
You almost give in. Almost. Too bad for Jack though, because you only gave him a cheeky grin. His gaze traveled from your pretty face to the table. There were so many different brushes and sponges. He remembered makeup artists using a big one, but which one? He decided on the latter and took the biggest one in his hand. It needed to spread and cover the entire face, after all, right? He decided to follow his gut and put a few small pumps on the back of his hand. He dipped the fluffy part of the brush against it and pressed it to your face. Like you were a canvas and he was the painter. Your chuckling made him roll his eyes, "stay still! I'm being a professional right now."
"sure you do, babe."
Jack started to feel himself in his role as makeup artist. He didn't wait for you as he immediately got on with the concealer. He tapped the wand under your eyes and on your nose, just like artists do to him. He took a small brush and blended it by tapping it. You watched how the tip of his tongue slips out from in-between his lips, his concentration to the max.
Even though your boyfriend has adhd, he can for sure keep his focus on you the entire day. "Next question! Ohh I like this one. When did you realize you fell in love with each other?" You tapped your chin as you think about it. You have always loved Jack, but when did that go from celebrity crush to a real crush?
"I have always loved Jack, if I am going to be honest. I started following him since his Avatar announcement, but he turned into a crush from the moment he wanted to switch from Instagram DMs to messages." You explained as you locked your sparkling eyes with him, awaiting for his response.
He took a moment to admire you, a warm feeling bubbling inside his chest since he knew the exact moment that he realized. "When you looked up at my face with those worried eyes that held so much care as you held on my arms. You always did so, but there was a time when it didn't feel friendly anymore. It felt like so much more as my heart sped up."
That was all it took for you to literally take off.
You sprinted out the room, towards the bathroom, in pure disbelief. The disbelief that he had actually decided to answer the question like that. The disbelief that a boy could actually be so true to his feelings.
"baby? Where are you going?" Did he say something wrong?
You stood in the middle of the bathroom with your face in your hands, teary eyed as you smudged your makeup. "babe?" He had followed you to the bathroom. When he heard your sobs, he immediately panicked. His arms wrapped around your figure, his cheek resting against the crown of your head as his hands caressed your back, "did I do something wrong?"
"no you just, you're, you." You didn't know why you were crying. Well, you did know the reasoning, but you didn't know why it made you so emotional.
"You truly love me."
"yes, yes I do. Of course I do. More than anything else." He ran his hands over your back. He knew you had a hard time when it came to romance in general. You had told him and he made sure to take good care of you, until you truly believed him. And that you did. He took such good care of you. And he would continue to do so until his very last breath.
Recording was long forgotten as the two of you bathed in each other's arms.
He was so happy to be yours.
BONUS:
"Ow! This hurts! Baby please stop!" After the makeup video, you had begged Jack to do a skincare routine with you. He had agreed, not knowing it could have been this bad. It was charcoal mask day.
"It's supposed to hurt!"
"Why would you do this to yourself? Ow ow wait!" He extended his arms to keep you away from him. He was much taller than you, so it certainly did the job. "But why! What does it do?"
"it deep cleans your skin, basically. Your face is going to be silky smooth when I kiss your face all over!"
He thought about it for a second. Kisses? Lots of kisses?
"Do I get lots of kisses after you pull it off me?" You nodded as a response. He sighed in defeat as he took a seat on the edge of the bathtub. This was your cue to stand in between his legs, his arms wrapping around you immediately. Your fingers made its way to the pulled bit of his dried mask.
"Fine, you can do it! But I expect a lot of smoo- OH MY FUCK AHHH!" 
1K notes · View notes
sleepymarimo · 5 months
Text
𝕤𝕚𝕥. 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕪. 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖!
read cw! summary: he thinks you'd make a pretty puppy pairing: zoro x afab!reader cw: mdni, established relationship, shibari, drunk sex, light pet (puppy) play, wakamezake (drinking alcohol from partner's body), some praise and degradation, light spit kink?, a little humiliation, creampie regarding shibari, this is the specifc tie used (sfw, on a model!) an: ohhh my goodness i loved writing this. may have awakened something... also man!!! i keep saying i'll make them shorter but i just lose track. wc: 2.5k for kinktober '23!
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the whole collar thing started as a joke at first. an innocent dare bloomed from an alcohol powered girl's night.
a simple, black leather band adorned with a gold tag and brandishing the initials 'RZ'.
he'd rolled his eye when he first saw it, clicking his tongue with annoyance and poorly hidden satisfaction while he rolled the tag between his calloused fingers. "s'you're my bitch then? that it?"
it was your turn to click your tongue, then you gave a soft huff. "nuh uh, i'm a good girl."
something flashes in his eyes and he smirks, giving a brief grunt in acknowledgement. it's the start of a new dynamic, one that he'd come to revel in.
which brings you to now.
opening the hatch to the observation room, you were met with the sight and scent of booze. there's a soft clinking sound in the air as well, light and playing a familiar chime that sent a chill down your spine.
zoro leans against the wall, his gaze steady and set on you. the smirk he wears is predatory, laced with anticipation and excitement- this has been on his mind for a while.
you can't tell how many bottles he'd had, but judging by the way he let some of it dribble down his chin while he kept eye contact with you, you'd say it was a decent amount.
and that oh so sweet chime?
in his free hand, he twirls your collar on his index finger. it hula-hoops around his digit, the tag clinking and occasionally giving off a pretty flash as the cool metal was hit by the moonlight. 
his voice cuts through the heavy air, dark and rich and dripping with authority.
"oi, puppy dog." he nods his head in the direction of an open workout bench, where a coil of jade colored silk rope taunts you in the most tantalizing way. "sit."
you're stripped of your clothes and sat on the bench before he has a chance to draw in a breath. he utters a quick 'good girl' from his sake slick lips, which are curved into a smirk.
another swig and a few steps, then he's in front of you. he tosses the empty bottle and it lands somewhere with a thud, his hands fumbling with the clasp of the collar before he places it snugly around your neck.
his fingers trace over the gold tag, a low hum of approval rumbling in his chest.
then his focus gets turned towards the ropes. he looks at you for a second before winding it around  your body. he's on a mission, his face hardened. the swordsman takes his time, dedicating himself to the sinfulness of this delicate craft.
you're surprised at how well he ties you up, the smooth silk of the ropes making goosebumps rise on your skin. his touch lingers, never really leaving your flesh as he wraps the rope around you in an intricate design that makes you wonder where he learned such a thing. luckily, you find that you don't have much time to think about it.
your hands are already bound behind your back when he runs the rope around your inner thigh, making you squirm.
he briefly stills, his tone is commanding and sharp, almost a growl. "stay." he emphasizes his point by pulling on the rope until it dug into your soft skin. "got it?"
"okay." you whimper, the light chime of your tag ringing in the air. heat rushes to your cheeks as he finishes his ties, taking a few steps back and admiring his work.
your first instinct is to test the strength of the ropes, your arms and shoulders wriggling under the soft material in a hopefully discreet manner. however, the swordsman's gaze in inescapable. even your small squirms catch his attention, his arms crossing over his chest as he tilted his head.
he just radiates smugness, the corner of his lips quirking into a barely noticeable smirk.
what a pretty fuckin' picture...
"y'gotta stay real still f'me, puppy." he warns with a stern expression, retrieving yet another bottle of sake. "be a good girl."
the bottle clinks as he places it beside the workout bench, mischief dancing in his onyx eyes. he peels off his shirt, his scar laden physique presented to you in its full glory. your arms struggle against the silk ropes, against the urge to trace your fingers over every contour of his chest and shoulders.
he notices and can't stop himself from giving you a cocky smile, deciding to push you further by stepping closer until you were eye level with his barrel of a chest. "y'look like you're gonna start slobberin', puppy dog." he chides, clearly satisfied.
one of his large hands picks up the bottle and his teeth dig into the cork, while his free hand cups your chin with an aggressive tenderness that only he was capable of. with a single tug he pops the sake open, spitting the soft wooden stopper onto the floor.
he licks his lips, a ritual of sorts, before starting to fill his mouth with his precious booze. his thumb starts to stroke your cheek, an unspoken command in itself. open up.
the swordsman wasn't wrong to say that you were practically slobbering for him. you tilt your head back and open your mouth with a silent 'ah', your pink tongue glistening and ready for him.
his head turns and then he's looming over you. the floral and fruity notes of the sake hit your tastebuds as he slowly spits it into your waiting mouth, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. he makes sure to keep his gazed fixed on you, hand applying some pressure on your jaw when you dared to look away.
when it's all done and you swallow, he makes sure to close the gap between the two of you.
his tongue caresses yours, sloppy and messy from how much he'd been drinking as he relishes the combined taste of the sake and your saliva. it's commanding and alluring, the sound of the rolling waves seeming to be outdone by the soft and wet sounds of your lips against his.
then it's over as he rises to his full height, a glint of predaciousness flashing in his eyes.
you can only follow his gaze as he kneels before you, able to get a good look at your bound form. one of his hands, rough and warm, kneads the flesh of your outer thigh. "need ya to keep 'em shut." he gruffly orders.
doing just that, you obediently squish your thighs together and look at him expectantly. something swells in his chest at the sight of your puppy dog eyes, so eager to please him. well wasn't he just the luckiest damn swordsman? he rewards you with a grin and pleased growl.
he raises the bottle up until it's just over your shoulder, before he starts to pour it down your body.
a waterfall of sake cascades down your skin, trickling downward and making you glisten in the moonlight. the ropes darken to a deep, rich forest green as they soak up some of the alcohol. against the hot air, the sake feels cool against your flesh and your head tilts back, jaw falling open with a light gasp.
then he starts drinking.
his lips are on you, starting on your neck before lapping all the way down your torso. he inhales sharply, shifting between lewd slurps and broad strokes of his tongue. the bitter sake was oh so perfect against your sweet skin. you were positive that if he had a tail, it would be wagging.
sake and saliva coat your bound form. warm and wet and sticky. you keep your pretty thighs closed how he had told you to- like he'd commanded you to. "atta girl." he praises, licking a trail from your collarbone to your sake slick tits.
his hot tongue circles one of your nipples, slurping at a few drops that had drippled there. he sucks at your hardened nub, making sure to sip at the sake that attempted to dribble past him.
meanwhile, his free hand traces the edges of the silk ropes, teasingly tugging on them. he fucking loves this. the power, the sake, and you.
he's drunk enough to not care about the low groans spilling past his lips, your skin buzzing with anticipation.
you shiver at the sensation of his tongue swirling around your sensitive peak, writhing slightly against the silk ropes which were now soaked with booze. "zo'..."
he growls, his teeth grazing your nipple before he reminds you of his earlier command, tone containing an underlying current of warning. "oi. stay."
once the bottle runs dry, once there's nothing left for him to lap at, he pulls back and rolls his shoulders. he tosses the glass somewhere a bit too harshly, not giving a shit about how it shatters against the wooden floor. he kneels down a bit further and runs his hands along your outer thighs again.
when you look down, you see exactly why he decided to use you as a human fountain.
the sake he couldn't lick up ends up pooling at the apex of your thighs, a lake of liquor that he plans on drinking dry.
he dives right in, head between your thighs as his hands roughly pushed them shut. his tongue laps away at the sake, before he starts guzzling it down. the sounds are absolutely lewd- wet and raw and hungry.
it takes a while before he slurps it all, his lips and chin coated with booze. even when you're sure that there's none left, he still licks at the meat of your thighs. a few bites and kisses, then he's looking up at you with dilated pupils.
for a second, his expression is unreadable. then, like a flipping switch, he gets to it.
before you know it you're roughly pushed back onto the workout bench, your legs spread open as he licks a stripe up your cunt with the flat of his tongue, intent on catching any lingering drops of sake. he leaves a sloppy kiss on your clit as his hands busy themselves with tugging off his trousers.
you barely have time to gasp when he spits a sticky glob of drool right onto your entrance and hooks your thighs over his, sliding his cock inside you with one thrust. his name tumbles past your lips like a prayer, low and rough.
your arms struggle against the silk bindings and you can only moan and whimper as he pistons into you like a beast in heat, the squelch of your cunt vulgarly echoing throughout the observation room. "good fuckin' girl, puppy." he bites back a groan, his chest rumbling. "fuck..."
he shifts between short, hard strokes, to full and teasing ones, occasionally impaling you on his cock and grinding his hips against yours to make you feel extra full. his uncoordinated and harsh movements are a testament to the amount of alcohol lingering in his veins.
regardless, his cock manages to hit you in all the right places.
it isn't long before a delightful pressure begins to bloom in your lower tummy. your muscles tense and relax, out of your control as you try your best to get in a full breath of air. your collar suddenly feels tighter, your chest trembling as you fall into a downward spiral.
you weakly call his name and he gives a rough "hm?" in response, too entranced by your slopping wet cunt to stop bucking into you.
"m'been good!" you mewl, wishing you could wrap your arms around him. "i want my treat!"
his efforts double, a smirk quirking at the corner of his lips. with a darkening gaze, he leans over you and drunkenly assesses every detail of your sweet face.
"oh yeah? you want your treat? needy little bitch, ain't cha?" he all but growls, cupping your ass and forcing you to meet his thrusts. your words are babbled as your hips are lifted off of the bench, and his expression shifts to one of sadistic amusement. "huh? you gonna bark f'me, puppy?"
you only whimper, panting as you await your impending orgasm. but he’s mean. he’s so damn mean and you can’t say it doesn’t make you pulse around him.
he halts his movements, going still inside you. “c’mon, puppy dog.” his grip tightens, not even allowing you to grind against him. “speak.”
oh fuck him.
you swallow and feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment, but your need to cream all over his hard cock far outweighed any pride you had remaining in your system. swollen, drool slick lips part and your eyes screw shut.
then you bark.
you give a few shaky, high pitched woofs and feel your dignity flying out the window. the bastard draws it out, more than content with the scene before him. you're such a good and obedient puppy dog... man's best fucktoy, if he said so himself.
he relents, then you feel yourself getting pounded into so hard it takes your breath away.
your yapping quickly turns into moaning, sharp pants and whines as you feel the ropes of pleasure squeezing you tighter and tighter.
"good girl." he coos in a light tone, mocking you with glee. zoro brings a hand up to your tummy, giving his good little puppy a belly rub before pushing down on your navel and dishing out his last command. "cum."
your pussy clamps down on him, milking him for everything he's worth. you can't even squirm, the silk ropes feeling more like a prison as you struggled against them in a mindless haze. breaths are harder to take, coming in quickly and erratically while tears dotted your lashes.
in the midst of it all, your pretty little dog tag clinks and clinks, acting as a humiliating reminder of how much his teasing turned you on.
the swordsman throws his head back, feeling the muscles of his abdomen starting to twitch. he picks up his pace and his mind goes blank at how deliciously you're squeezing him. the alcohol makes him slightly sluggish as he leans forward and attempts to drive himself even deeper into you.
after a few more growled curses, he shoots three heavy shots of his cum into your cunt, filling you to the brim.
the room is still for a while, the two of you panting heavily and catching yourselves as the scent of sex and sake thickly swirl in the air. he licks his canines before looking down on you, continuing to gently rub your tummy. "y'really lookin' like a dog now, princess."
coming down from your high, you click your tongue and ignore the rush of heat flooding into your cheeks as he continues to snicker and release you from the confines of the ropes. "m'not a bitch..." you mumble defiantly, hoping to regain some of your pride.
he grins at your displeasure, at how he can so easily pull a reaction from you, before hooking an arm around your waist and pressing you into his side. his free hand reaches for yet another sake bottle, his teasing and cocky words mumbled into the glass. "guess i'm in the doghouse, huh?"
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taglist: @queen-of-elves, @who-the-hockeysticks, @sxhy-town, @flower-hua
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happyyyandcrazyyy · 2 years
Text
three taps (kaz brekker x reader)
summary: kaz taps three times. it’s his way to say i love you, i care.
or
the three times it took jesper to realize that three taps were something more than a meaningless habit.
warnings: violence, blood, implied se*ual as*ault (not detailed at all and very brief)
a/n: did i write this in less than a day? yes. did the inspiration come to me at six am? also yes. what about your other 50 wip, anna? did you write anything for them? nope.
hope you enjoyed reading this one as much as i enjoyed writing it <3
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i. tap, tap, tap
Jesper had seen him do it more times than he could count. It was Kaz’s thing. Three taps, index finger hitting a wooden table, thumb brushing against a map or cane harshly meeting the floor. Most times they were fast taps, like a subconscious action, coming and going before anyone could give it any mind. Other times, however, they were slower, more emphasized, as if trying to make a point. Jesper was used to the taps, as he imagined (Y/N) and Inej also were. The sound came prior to every heist, prior to pronouncing the words of luck (no mourners, no funerals).
It was Kaz’s habit, something he probably did without even realizing, and Jesper couldn’t help but find it oddly comforting, a routine that somehow eased his nerves. (The world could be going to war, Ketterdam could be crashing down in flames, and Kaz would still tap three times. There was a sense of safety in that.)
It wasn’t until Jesper had a closer look that he realized the action was perhaps not as meaningless as he believed.
ii. cane meets ground three times: come back to me, i’m here
(Y/N) had known Kaz the longest out of all of them. Jesper hadn’t known the Slat without her, he hadn’t known Kaz without her. She’d always been there, a person in which the Dregs often found solace and always obtained an ear to listen without judgment. (Y/N) was a walking contradiction, soft around the edges yet powerful enough to bring the toughest people to their knees. She was everything Kaz wasn’t, maybe that was the reason they complimented each other as well as they did.
In a place where kindness was rewarded with death (Y/N) was unusually good-natured. Stray kids in the Barrel knew to find her if they were ever in urgent need of food or shelter. To outsiders she might’ve looked frail, her kindness might’ve made her seem weak, but the people of the underworld knew better than to be fooled by her selfless actions and innocent appearance. (Y/N) had an innate talent for causing people’s demise and there wasn’t a line she wasn’t willing to cross. The gentleness in her eyes would immediately harden at the sight of any threat, like molten lava hitting cold air. People who double-crossed her didn’t live to tell the tale.
Jesper wasn’t quite sure how Kaz and (Y/N) had met. From the whispers he’d heard around the Slat he figured it hadn’t been a pleasant experience. (Y/N) didn’t really discuss her life before joining the Dregs, not even when some of them would gather around to drink and curse the ghosts of the past.
Only once had Jesper gathered enough courage to break past the personal boundaries she’d clearly set and ask.
(And he’d only done it because he’d been almost drunk and really really curious.)
Kaz had been there, quietly observing as he often did, when the words had fallen out of Jesper’s mouth. He’d frozen in place, even when the question hadn’t been directed towards him, jaw tightening. Jesper had noticed Kaz’s instinctive response— because he might’ve been careless and drunk but he was also keenly observant —and that had him sobering up enough to know he was treading in dangerous territory.
No one had ever asked her directly, he’d realized at that moment as he held his breath and awaited a response. Many gossiped and guessed but no one had ever walked up to her and asked her about her past.
The softness hadn’t left (Y/N)’s face, but it was evident that the question had taken her by surprise because she’d frozen mid-action for a split second and something in her features broke. For the first time since he’d known her, Jesper saw the exhaustion and affliction in her eyes. The glint had disappeared as soon as it’d come, (Y/N) had regained her composure lightning fast, and Jesper had wondered if it’d ever been there at all.
She’d looked behind his shoulder at Kaz and they’d shared a look, one that Jesper couldn’t quite decipher. Something must’ve been telepathically said because the grip that Kaz had on his cane had lessened. His eyes, however, didn’t lose the murderous glint in them. Whatever he was remembering had fury roaring through his mind.
(It was only then that Jesper had understood that Kaz hadn’t been angered by his question but rather by the memories that had resurfaced. It must’ve been really serious because the only other time Jesper had ever seen that look in Kaz’s eyes Inej had been hurt and a guy had lost his eye.)
“I was a slave, Jes.”
Jesper did not know what he’d been expecting but that certainly hadn’t been it. As (Y/N) had pronounced the words a shadow crossed her face. It was the way she’d looked away from him, in discomfort and embarrassment, that had realization striking him like lighting. The weight of her words had settled in and Jesper understood, somewhat suddenly, what type of slave she’d been; the type to be used and discarded for the pleasure of rich men, sold and bought as if worth nothing more than an object. The burns and scars on her chest had suddenly made sense.
“It was a long time ago,” she’d added, eyes slightly glazed over, like she was physically there but mentally elsewhere. “And those men,” her eyes had flickered to Kaz before settling back on him, “they’re dead.”
More than dead if Kaz had something to do with it, Jesper had imagined.
Jesper had no way of knowing of the images flashing through her mind (pain, blood, and filthy hands. moans, tears, and screams) but he had recognized the unfocused gaze and the shaking fists by her side as her body’s response to reliving the trauma.
Jesper had never wished he could take back his words more than at that precise moment.
He’d opened his mouth to say something, anything to make the haunted look on her face dissipate, to lessen the burned he just had realized she carried, but Kaz had beaten him to it.
Tap, tap, tap. 
Gently, he’d poked the floor with the ferrule of the cane. The metal had hit the ground heavily, the thud resonating. Kaz’s eyes, Jesper had noticed, remained trained solely on (Y/N), eyebrows furrowed in something that might’ve been concern.
The sound had somehow snapped through the haze of memories and had managed to bring her back to them. (Y/N) had blinked the stupor away, once again in a surprisingly fast manner, before offering Jesper a smile that had every word dying at the back of his throat.
It was small and unbelievably sad, but genuine. It was enough for him to know that she didn’t resent him for asking.
“It was a long time ago,” she’d repeated, almost to herself. Then, she’d tapped the table three times, softly. Jesper wouldn’t have noticed the action if he hadn’t been hyperaware of his surroundings.
At the moment it’d seemed like a coincidence, like (Y/N) had mimicked Kaz’s habit to anchor herself back, but as Jesper laid awake later that night he’d realized it hadn’t been just that.
She’d turned to briefly look at Kaz after doing it. If Jesper had been soberer maybe he would’ve realized that Kaz had said something and (Y/N) had responded.
iii. foot meets floor three times: i’m worried, be safe
Getting shot at was always a nuisance, so it was a true inconvenience that (Y/N) appeared to be a bullet magnet.
Really, the girl had more bullet wounds than Jesper could count. (There were two on her left shoulder, close enough to overlap, and one on her right one. There was one on her upper thigh— which Jesper had never seen but Inej said was almost unnoticeable —and the graze on her left side). Despite her bad luck Jesper reckoned (Y/N) had some sort of Saint looking over her because, somehow, the bullets always missed any important organ.
(“I’m saving you for getting hit,” she’d once joked as Inej changed the bandage on her shoulder. “So, really, you all should be thanking me rather than worrying.”
Jesper would never admit it, but sometimes he thought about her words in a serious manner. Sometimes, as he gambled and his mind slipped away, he believed that (Y/N) somehow deflected the bullets off them and ended up unwillingly pulling them towards her.
It was insane and improbable, Jesper knew that, but he still believed it.)
None of her injuries, however, had ever been as bad as the one she’d suffered two months ago. It’d been a close-range shot and the bullet hadn’t pierced cleanly through the skin but rather had settled inside. It’d missed any major artery, by some sort of miracle, but the wound had gotten infected which had resulted in (Y/N) running a high fever for almost a week.
Kaz hadn’t said a word but Jesper knew he’d been restless, especially during the worst days of the infection when (Y/N) dying was more likely than not. Jesper had seen him pacing back and forth outside of (Y/N)’s room, cane tapping thrice against the wooden floor, never going in but peaking through the door whenever Nina or Inej left. It was odd to see their unshakable leader looking somewhat distraught. Maybe that was why he seemed so on edge now. It was (Y/N)’s first heist after the injury.
Jesper would lie if he said that he wasn’t worried. With her luck, she might end up getting shot tonight, again. He kept on looking at her from the corner of his eye, half expecting her to start bleeding out like she’d done all those months back.
(The image of blood slipping past her lips and her wide eyes was burned in the back of Jesper’s mind. He could still feel the blood soaking his shirt as he’d held her together with his bare hands.)
But (Y/N) remained excitedly rocking on her heels, twirling the gun in her hand the way Jesper had taught her. She caught his eye and winked.
She’ll be alright, Jesper reassured himself.
“Let’s go over it one more time.”
Kaz’s voice broke through the silence of the night, low enough to not startle the birds that slept in the trees above but loud enough for all of them to give him their attention.
Jesper stifled a groan. They’d been over this at least three times before. (Y/N) noticed his dramatized grimace and chuckled, nudging him with her elbow.
“Inej…”
The Wraith slipped out of the shadows, “I’ll enter through the back to the control room and disable the alarm. As soon as it’s done I’ll signal you.”
She nodded towards Jesper.
“Distraction as soon as I receive the sign,” Jesper continued.
Kaz assented. “The alarm deactivation will give us a ten-minute window for the theft,” he said it as if he hadn’t been reminding them of the small span of time they had ever since he’d devised the plan. “So the distraction has to last at least seven minutes.”
Jesper knew that, it gave enough time for (Y/N) to slip in and out without raising much suspicion.
He whistled and offered a self-satisfying smirk, “I’ve got it.”
Kaz stared at him for a second, as if trying to pick his mind apart with the power of his eyes, before turning to the girl by Jesper’s side.
“(Y/N)…”
She met his eyes with a grin. “I’m off the moment Jes begins to work his magic. Go in through the second window, safe is on the second floor, third room to the left.”
“And you’re looking for?”
“Pink star diamond, 60 carats,” she responded with ease. “And if something else catches my eye-”
“No,” Kaz cut her off, tone firm and resolute. Both Jesper and Inej snapped their gaze towards their leader, it wasn’t often that he limited just how much they could steal. “In and out.”
From the corner of his eye Jesper saw the smile fall off (Y/N)’s face, arms coming to cross defensively over her chest.
“But what if-”
“In and out,” Kaz repeated, always inflexible once he made up his mind. He jutted his jaw as if daring her to argue. Jesper half expected her to do so, after all (Y/N) was never afraid of disagreeing and questioning him— she was one of the few who could do it without much repercussion —but she didn’t.
If Jesper hadn’t been looking closely he would’ve missed it, the way (Y/N) eyes trailed down to Kaz’s feet, only for a second.
Tap, tap, tap.
The point of his boot tapping against the muddy floor, his eyes not once leaving (Y/N)’s.
Her face softened instantly, shoulders deflating. She tapped her index finger against her bicep thrice in return before uncrossing her arms.
She relented with a sigh, “In and out, okay.”
As they wished each other good luck (no mourners, no funerals) Kaz did it again and this time Jesper was waiting for it, the tap of the leader’s cane against the leaves.
Tap, tap, tap.
Comfort swept over him.
Everything went as smoothly as it can go when one is robbing a millionaire.
iv. finger meets wood three times: i’m sorry, i love you
Dirtyhands didn’t need a reason, Jesper had heard that saying being whispered more times than he could recall and he could vouch for it. It was, perhaps, what made Kaz so formidable. There was no knowing when he would strike because there was no why, and without a why one couldn’t forestall his actions.
Dirtyhands didn’t need a reason, but they’d given him one the moment they’d taken (Y/N). Their death sentence had been signed the moment they’d laid a hand on her.
As Jesper watched (Y/N) in silent concern he finally understood why people feared when they whispered that saying.
(Dirtyhands didn’t need a reason.)
“Find her,” Kaz had instructed Inej and Nina as soon as they’d arrived at their destination. The girls had disappeared into the night, focused on the rescue mission.
The hand with which Kaz gripped his cane had been shaking with anger all night.
The truth was he’d been seething ever since some rouge Dime Lions had taken what was his. (They’d been rouges, Kaz was certain. Pekka Rollins had sworn to him, after a few broken fingers, that he’d never ordered them to take his girl.) Everyone in the Slat had been on edge for the last three days, expecting their leader to snap at them at any moment, but Kaz had managed to keep a tight rein on his emotions.
The control had slipped from Kaz’s fingers the moment he caught a glimpse of a man on the deck of the rusty old boat, laughter-filled voice talking about how he’d made a mess of the Bastard’s bitch. The tremors in Kaz’s hands had come to a sudden stop. Before Jesper had the opportunity to even blink Kaz had fired his gun, hitting the blond straight in the forehead.  
(For someone who favored his cane over every other existing weapon, Kaz had a deadly aim. Jesper would never say it out loud, but he reckoned Kaz’s ability might come close to rivaling his own.)
“I’ll deal with them.”
Jesper had known what that meant; come with me, cover my back, but let me make them suffer.
Kaz Brekker was only one man but the murderous wrath in his eyes had let Jesper know that Kaz had no intention of leaving any of them alive. He was going to make them pay, he was going to destroy them.
Brick by brick.
It’d been carnage after that. Jesper had watched, in some sort of horrified awe, how Kaz had taken down every single one of the men. He’d shot some of them too, but it’d been mainly just Kaz. There’d been screams and the smell of blood had tainted the air.  
Then there’d been nothing but silence and a pained whimper.
(It was in moments like these that Jesper was struck with the realization that he knew nothing about Kaz Brekker. Because, if anyone had ever asked him about Kaz’s anger prior to what he’d witnessed that night, Jesper would’ve answered that Kaz’s anger was hot and sharp and acid, a searing rage that couldn’t be controlled once unleashed. Kaz’s anger knew no boundaries and crossed all limits, he would’ve said, it burned fiercely as it destroyed everything in its path. But that night Jesper had seen another side to Kaz’s rage. His eyes had looked downright homicidal, dangerously violent. They’d contrasted the lack of emotions in his features. His anger wasn’t fueled by emotion—not anymore, it’d gone past that —but rather by the innate need to protect what was his. It wasn’t loud or visible, but rather quiet and lethal. Cold anger that Jesper had found even more terrifying.)
“I know you planned all of this,” Kaz had walked closer to the man who laid on the ground, hands gripping a bullet wound in his kneecap and whimpers falling from his lips. “You thought taking my girl would make me falter, didn’t you?” The man had tried to scramble but Kaz had only tsked before swinging his cane against the man’s injured leg. He’d let out a pained moan, tears dripping down his cheeks. “You just made me angry.”
“Please, I’m begging you…”
“Oh, you should beg.” The heel of the cane had come down on the knees again, the snapping sound indicating a broken bone and the wail letting Jesper know just how bad the pain must’ve been. “I would shoot you in the face, but that would be too merciful of me.” He’d used the head of the cane, the prideful crow, to lift the man’s chin. “If (Y/N) was here she’d tell me to be gentle,” a shadow had crossed Kaz’s face, terrifying enough to make a chill run down Jesper’s back, “too bad for you she isn’t here.”
The head of the cane had been swung back and it came in contact with the man’s jaw. Blood had trickled down the man’s chin, a scream leaving his mouth.
“You took something of mine, you hurt something of mine, and for that, I’ll make sure you suffer.”
Kaz had used his cane after that and no more words were spoken.
Now, as Jesper watched (Y/N) flinch away from Nina, he wondered what would’ve happened if Kaz had seen her state before killing all those men. Maybe it’d been a blessing for them that he hadn’t.
Jesper had never seen (Y/N) so worn down. She sat by the stairs, knees to her chest, holding herself close. It was a strategic position, a place where she could watch all of them and no one could sneak from behind (part of Jesper’s heart had shattered when he’d come to that realization.) She’d only spent three days with the Lions but that’d been enough to cause cracks in the impenetrable wall she’d spent the last years building, past trauma slipping through. So far she hadn’t let anyone close to her, not even Inej who was her closest friend and who’d spoken in gentle whispers about treating her injuries. Her face was a mess, the beauty not gone but tainted with purples and blues. One of her eyes still bled. Under her nails and across her fingers there was dry blood but her arms held no injuries. Jesper just knew she’d given one hell of a fight. He wondered if this was what she’d looked like when Kaz had found her all those years ago, he wondered if maybe it’d been worse. He didn’t ponder long because the pain it caused in his chest was unbearable.
Her eyes snapped towards the door before it was slammed open. Jesper turned around just in time to see Kaz walk in.
(He’d changed and showered after arriving at the Slat. Jesper somehow knew he’d done that before seeing (Y/N) to prevent the blood— that’d covered his clothes and face —from triggering any unwanted memory.
It was (Y/N)’s first time seeing him after she’d been taken. Jesper knew that Kaz was their last hope of bringing her back to them.)
Jesper saw the moment Kaz’s unwavering gaze met (Y/N)’s face and he could tell, without a doubt, that anger was consuming him once again. His jaw clenched at the sight of bruises, and his hand clenched itself by his side.
He looked ready to burn the city to ashes in retribution.
Somehow, Kaz managed to control the rage. The frigid anger in Kaz’s eyes, the one that had frightened Jesper to the core, melted as he crouched in front of her.
“Are you with me?”
She blinked once, twice, thrice. Then, she nodded, and Jesper couldn’t help the sigh of relief that left his lips. She was here, broken and damaged, but here with them. That was enough.
Kaz’s gloved hand reached forward, stopping inches away from her face, ghosting over her bruised cheek. Careful not to touch any skin, he moved some of the hair out of (Y/N)’s face before fisting his hand and returning it to his side.
Jesper looked away, something about the act felt more intimate than it looked. Nosy as he was, he listened in.  
“They touched me,” the voice was weak and shaky and so unlike the (Y/N) that Jesper knew.
A sharp intake of breath. “I made them pay for that.”
“Did they suffer?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” It was barely a whisper but the words were surprisingly firm.
Jesper couldn’t see but he heard the taps. Three times. Kaz’s finger against the wooden railing of the stairs.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Jesper frowned, unbelievably confused by the words the girl had just uttered.
Tap, tap, tap.
Gentle and genuine, “I love you, too.”
Everything clicked at that precise moment, the confusion faded away. Jesper was left dizzy with the realization that Kaz’s taps meant absolutely everything. They were his way of telling them he cared. No one knew, no one understood the action, and maybe that was why Kaz kept on doing it.
But now Jesper did, now he understood.  
From that day on he found himself twirling his guns thrice before going out and causing mayhem.
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cheollipop · 8 months
Text
calico
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navi | taglist
pairing: ex!yoon jeonghan x bartender!reader
w.c.: 3.1k
tags: fem!reader, smut, angst, past infidelity/cheating, this is really toxic.... hate sex though....
the heartache from a past game of cat and dog—leaving you with nothing but a stained bed and a broken heart—came back tenfold when freshly-chopped hair and a sly smirk greeted you through the cracked-open, tinted window.
warnings: car sex, so semi-public sex, hate sex, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, some cockwarming, degradation (mentions of past cheating, both reader and jeonghan refer to the other as "slut"), reader is also called a cockslut at one point, hair pulling, pussy slapping, nicknames (hannie; darling), jeonghan is really toxic (and a big asshole), past infidelity, seungcheol is mentioned a few times *wink wonk*
A/N: this is for the anon who requested jeonghan ages ago. I might be 5 years late to writing it, but it's here hehe~ I'm so glad I finally got to write more for svt! this was really fun to write~ please consider leaving feedback/reblogging if you enjoyed! ^^ happy reading~~
nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞
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Frosty air cooled the sweat sticking to your exposed skin, heeled boots clacking over the pavement as you stumbled out of the creaky, metal door at the back of the club. You were way too sober, you thought, eyebrow twitching at the memory of your fight with the new manager. ‘No alcohol after you clock in,’ the high-pitched sound repeated in your ears. You worked just fine with a shot or two in your system; you’d argue you worked even better, able to drown out the slurred pick-up lines and simply pour drinks. Friday nights were the worst, and having to deal with clingy men who didn’t understand rejection—most of which not even your type—without alcohol had you considering a career change. So the second the clock hit eleven, you hurriedly wiped your station before another batch of college freshmen crowded the bar, grabbing your stuff and scrambling out the back exit.
Your legs carried you out of the small alleyway and onto the lit main sidewalk, thankful that the council finally replaced the flickering light bulb. Your eyes zeroed in on the bus stop down the road, and you quickly made your way towards it before the last bus could arrive.
A sudden horn blared to your right, cutting through the stillness and sounding over the distant music from the club behind you. Your fingers dug into your pocket on instinct to circle around the tube of pepper spray, your body tensing defensively as you faced the Jeep parked in front of you. The driver’s tinted window rolled down, a head of short, brown locks peeking through the gap. Your hand eased around the spray when you met with familiar, downturned eyes, hooded with what seemed like amusement. A shot of pain seared through your chest, your heart pounding against your ribcage as Jeonghan stared back at you blankly, a simple “hey” reverberating in the air between you.
“No bitches to cheat on tonight?” You spat, tightening your fingers around the jacket in your hand.
Why was he here? After you’d finally stopped looking for him in every corner, hoping he’d pull you out from behind the bar to give you a tearful apology? After the scent of his misdeeds had faded off your bedsheets, your slumber no longer interrupted by dreams about your heart being used as a plaything?
Jeonghan's eyebrow twitched, his amusement blending with irritation. “Seungcheol’s taken now, whose cock would they jump on if I did?”
Resentment seeped into your chest, and you considered pepper spraying him just to erase that smug smirk off his face. But you turned away from him, sucking in the cool air while scheming eyes bore into your profile. You willed your legs into motion, your footsteps sounding to the beat of the muffled club music as you continued your journey down to the bus stop. A car door slammed somewhere behind you, and you picked at the side of your index finger while you walked, hoping it was just a clubber who’d been running late. A firm hand wrapped around your upper arm and twisted you around, striking out the previous possibility when Jeonghan’s hot breath brushed against your face.
“Let me drive you home,” he mumbled, his hand relaxing around your arm but not quite releasing it.
You couldn’t help but pity him in this moment. A man who’d broken your heart and left you to mend it alone, curled up on your bedroom floor while he stuffed his belongings into a worn-down duffle, not even an apology or a goodbye, only the loud clang of his spare key landing on your console before the front door slammed shut. That same man, two years later, parked in front of your workplace—for God knows how many hours—only to drive you home? A part of you was curious why that was. The other, though, wanted to get the fuck away from him.
“Why? So I can hear more about how not sorry you are? No thanks,” you tugged against his grasp, now tight around your arm again.
“(Y/n), please. I won’t say anything, I just wanna drive you home,” the subtle hint of desperation in his voice alarmed you. It didn’t make sense, and yet the unanswered question overshadowed your confusion. The anger that had been simmering in your gut was beginning to boil.
“So you actually don’t feel guilty?” You didn’t mean for your voice to crack, and yet the ache in your chest nearly made you double over the further his silence stretched—the same one that had robbed you of sleep, kept you away from all potential love interests, had you curled up in the same sheets the reeked of adultery and betrayal while Jeonghan continued to jump from woman to woman, a trail of his sins dragging behind his indifferent figure. “Let me go, Jeonghan,” your tone was weak, defeated, once again faced with agonizing reality—he’d moved on long before that day.
You missed the way his eyelids fluttered at the delicate roll of his name off your tongue, the sound sparking a memory into the front of his mind, a collage of smiles and easy laughter echoing in his ears. His hand raised to grab onto your other arm, possessiveness laced with concern slowly overtaking him at the sight of you—shoulders slumped, eyes glassy and your fingers shaking where they curled into fists at your sides, the mere mention of his indifference reducing you to the same, hurt woman he's left behind.
“It’s late. Let me just-” He paused. Jeonghan never paused, not even when you stood at your doorway, looking him in the eye while he soiled your bedsheets with someone else. “I just want to make sure you get home safe.”
You blamed it on the quiver in your legs, the loss of willpower to move yourself away from him, but this time, you didn’t argue.
--
‘I thought you would be okay,
You thought I would be the same,’
Dpr Ian played through the speakers, the volume on low despite the silence stretching between you and the man in the driver’s seat. You realized you hadn’t needed to give him directions, a relationship of three years enough to engrave the way to your apartment into his mind forever. Your eyes flitted over to the side every now and then, taking in the shadows cast over Jeonghan’s cheekbones with every passing streetlight, his fringe fanning over his forehead in a way unfamiliar to you. Looking back to the front, you decided you preferred his longer hair, and missed the innocent glimmer in his dark eyes. Though despite all the changes—new car, new hair, new attitude and style—Jeonghan still used the same perfume, one that you’d bought him for the first birthday you’d celebrated together. Something in your gut stirred at the thought, but you were unsure whether it was pleasant or not.
‘it’s just another show,
Don’t want your world no more,’
Jeonghan cleared his throat, “I got promoted to manager,” he spoke, breaking the silence.
“Good for you,” your tone was cold, uninterested.
“Yeah.”
Dpr Ian continued to play, ‘You’re so addicted to my bad decisions.’
“How’s bartending been?”
“It’s okay.”
He hummed, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as he took a right turn. “Mm, I worry about you sometimes. People can act crazy when drunk.”
Your eyebrow twitched, irritation creeping into your tone, “you don’t get to be worried about me.” You felt the urge to slam your fist into his unnecessarily sharp jaw, to watch bruises paint his face until the rage embedded so deep within your soul dissipated.
A few seconds of silence passed as Jeonghan parked parallel to the empty sidewalk in front of your apartment building, sighing while turning off the engine and twisting in his seat to face you. “You know, I’m just trying to be nice here.”
Your fists clenched, mirroring Jeonghan and turning around to look at him with hooded eyes, your muscles clenching and relaxing in an attempt to calm yourself down. “Well, maybe you should’ve thought to do that before you fucked a random girl in my bed,” you spat, content to have watched his face fall before turning your back to him and reaching for the door handle.
A hand flew over your shoulder before your fingers could reach their target, his index and thumb grabbing your jaw and forcefully forcing you back into your prior position. “And you thought sleeping with my best friend was a good way to handle it?” He pulled you closer to him, your lower belly digging into the console as he bent you over it, his face mere inches away and his breath blowing warm over your cheeks.
“You don’t get to blame me-”
He was quick to interrupt your defense, “you think I didn’t notice you acting like a slut to get his attention? Way before anything even happened,” his grip on your face tightened, inching his own closer as he spoke, each word falling off his tongue making the knot in your stomach wind tighter. “The looks,” something in his eyes glimmered, and while that once made butterflies flutter in your stomach, it now grew the lump in your throat until it restricted your airway. “The touches,” his breath fanned over your face, small beads of sweat pilling over your skin at the humidity, and perhaps at the rasp in Jeonghan’s voice as he laid out your sins before you. “The pictures.”
Your fingers gripped the console, slipping off with streaks of sweat staining the black leather. Heart pounding in your ears, you hoped Jeonghan’s hearing somehow declined during the years you’d spent apart, the ringing in your ears fogging up all thoughts. You blamed the nerves on his accusations—a dark past you thought you’d buried without trace—and yet the proximity, the lack of space between your face and Jeonghan’s, the mint lacing his breath and the rasp in every word he spoke, you found hidden tinges of arousal mixed in with your anxiety, dousing your panties as you tried to escape the man’s grasp.
“Why are you here, Jeonghan?” Your voice wavered, but this time, you didn’t miss the wave of what seemed like relief painting his face when his name rolled off your tongue.
“Would you believe me if I said I missed you?”
The ache in your chest returned, your eyebrows furling until you appeared wounded by his words. “Not for a second,” your voice remained firm, though, sparing him no glimpse at your heart.
Jeonghan only scoffed, amused by the contrast between your tone and expression. He leaned closer—as though your indifference urged him to prove himself to you—pressing his lips the corner of your mouth, whispering his next words against the soft skin, “you’re not entirely wrong… but I did miss one thing.”
‘I thought you would be okay,
You thought I would be the same.’
--
Your lower back dug into the steering wheel, the leather beneath your knees creaking as you adjusted your position over Jeonghan, your pants shamefully thrown over the passenger seat. Teeth clacked against each other, heavy breaths mingling between your open mouths as your tongues pressed together in a battle of lust.
Two fingers spread you open, curling between your sopping walls until your eyes rolled back, his other hand holding up the window switch, waiting until the darkened glass closed fully before moving it to your hip.
Squeezing the supple flesh, Jeonghan groaned into your parted lips, “still so fucking tight, did Seungcheol not fuck you well enough?”
Heat flared up your chest, “shut up.”
You’d thought two years and countless hookups would’ve blurred Jeonghan's memory of you, but his fingers fucked into you with purpose, as though every inch of your body, every motion that drove pleasure up your spine had become second nature to him.
“I bet he didn’t know how to satisfy my pretty slut,” he pressed his lips to your cheek, using the hand on your hip to guide you over his fingers.
“Sh-shut up-”
He slipped out of you, gliding his digits down your cunt and over your clit before landing a harsh slap over the nub, your body jolting over him and a broken cry sounding in the humid car. The wet clap of his hand on your drenched pussy repeated, and you mumbled incoherently through a breathy moan.
“What was that? Speak up for me, darling,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.
The urge to punch the playfulness off his face dissipated when skilled fingers brushed over your clit, “fuck, again-”
And he conceded, bringing his hand down on your pussy once more to watch your back arch into the steering wheel behind you, lips parting as pain mingled with pleasure, your cunt throbbing under Jeonghan’s palm. That same hand swiftly moved to your face, fingers digging into your jaw and smearing your arousal over your skin while his other worked over his zipper, quickly undoing his pants and pushing them down far enough to take his cock out. It leaked precum over his black button-up, the vein lining the underside throbbing at the sight of you above him—eyes glazed over and fixed on his hard length, your tongue digging into the inside of your cheek.
His fingers tapped against your clit, once, twice, before landing another rough slap over it. He grabbed himself around the base, groaning at the sudden contact as he positioned you over the leaking cockhead, “be a good girl for once and- fuck-”
You cut him off before he could finish his sentence, sliding down his length unprompted until his cock was sheathed entirely between your fluttering walls. You rolled your hips to adjust, forcing your chests flush as you moved and pressing your lips to the shell of Jeonghan’s ear.
“You talk as if you’ve done nothing wrong, but you’re just as much of a slut as I am, aren’t you, Hannie?” Trailing feathery kisses over his jaw, you slipped his cock halfway out of your cunt before sliding him back inside, squeezing your walls around him to feel the stuttered rise and fall of his chest against you. “You fucked me that morning, then brought that bitch into my bed a couple hours after,” you pecked the sharp edge of his jawline, moving your lips back to his ear to whisper your next words, “didn’t even have the decency to take her to your apartment-”
Rough fingers tangled in the hair at your nape, tugging your face back until you met with unfocused eyes. Jeonghan readjusted under you, digging his feet into the clean mats and thrusting upwards experimentally, scoffing at the moan you tried to suppress. Your neck craned uncomfortably, gritting your teeth as Jeonghan eyed you silently, a hand on your hip keeping you still and leaving you helpless to do anything but warm his cock.
So you commenced your taunts, desperately trying to wiggle out of his grasp while you spoke, “how many hours have you been waiting outside, huh? Just to get your dick wet-”
“I have you on my cock now, don’t I?” His fingers tightened around your hair, and he leaned back in his seat, fucking up into your clenching cunt before you could think of anything to say—assuming you were still capable of processing anything but the smooth drag of his length between your pulsing walls, his nails digging thin crescents into the flesh of your hip. His breathing grew heavy, and yet his words remained clear, contemptuous. “You may hate me, darling, but whether you like it or not, you’ll keep coming back to me,” the hand in your hair eased, fingers scratching soothingly at your sore scalp and pushing your head closer to his, bringing his voice down to a whisper, “because you’re my pretty cockslut, aren’t you?”
Jeonghan nuzzled his nose into your cheek, planting a tender kiss to the heated skin while you frantically nodded your head. A staccato of moans and repetitions of his name rolled off your tongue as he brought you down to meet his relentless thrusts, his own grunts adding to the stuffiness in the closed-up car. He pounded into your dripping cunt, taking in the jolts of pleasure shaking your body every time he drove his cockhead into your g-spot, your moans growing needier the closer he pushed you towards the edge.
With one final slap to your throbbing pussy, your vision darkened and your body curled in on itself. Jeonghan’s fingers rubbed quick circles over your swollen nub, watching you writhe on top of him as waves of pleasure seared through you, your moans high-pitched and desperate as he guided you through your orgasm with unrelenting fingers, spark after spark of simmering heat blinding you to everything but Jeonghan.
He felt his own high approaching at the tight squeeze of your walls around him, his thrusts slowing down when you tumbled over the edge, but returning to their frenzied pace to chase his orgasm. Your fingers closed over his upper arms, tinges of overstimulation blending with the ecstasy of his cock slamming into your used cunt.
“Fuck- where do you want me, darling?” He rolled his head back over the headrest, eyes lidded with burning arousal and his thighs beginning to cramp up at the pace he was going at.
“Inside, Hannie, hnngh! Please, inside,” you said, words slurred and interrupted by a harmony of moans, disregarding the soreness between your legs while you begged Jeonghan to come inside you.
He laughed at the desperation, the sweet noise—airy, gravelly with the lust clouding his every sense—was cut short, interrupted by a throaty grunt as he emptied inside you, hot ropes of cum pulsing out of him to paint your walls. Cupping your ass with both hands, he sunk his fingers into the flesh and guided you over his cock in slow rolls of your hips, breathing in the air the other exhaled, eyes locked as the last spurt of cum warmed your insides.
You weren’t sure when it happened, but now, with your head resting on Jeonghan’s chest, his steady heartbeat echoing in your ears and cum slowly dribbling out of you while his cock remained sheathed deep inside, you realized you’d let your walls down for the man who’d caused them to go up, sinking into the pleasure he so generously poured into you. The walls you’d been holding up for two years, the pain he’d left you with sparking fear in your heart every time someone tried to get closer. And yet, the same man who’d planted that fear inside you somehow breached past the infrastructure you’d spent so long strengthening.
While you laid there in the faux sense of security Jeonghan so easily provided, you realized he was right: you will always find your way back to him.
reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´。• ᵕ •。`) ♡
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lazybutsmexy · 6 months
Text
Tea
Simón "Ghost" Riley X GN!reader
Warnings: ANGST, hurt no comfort, mayor character death(s).
A/N: is... is this what I chose as my comeback? I'm sorry, I hope to be able to write something fluffy soon.
Read on AO3
"...Ghost?"
"...Yeah?"
Your eyes are locked to the sky. The hues of gray that prelude an autumn shower used to comfort you. Strangely enough, what's most comforting to you at this moment is hearing your Lieutenant's voice answer you back, from somewhere to your left.
"...I have a confession to make."
"...Go on."
You inch your head sideways, trying to peek a glance at his face, but the stiffness of your neck prevent you from doing so. Maybe it's for the best. From the corner of your eye you can see part of his hip and his right leg, over a carpet of dark red that you don't need a creative imagination to think about its nature, or its origin.
You saw him get shot.
"I'm the one that took your last tea bag," you offer, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd get so grumpy about it."
A low sigh reaches your ears, and you can catch the hint of an almost imperceptible stutter in his breathing.
"...Never suspected you," he hums, every word calculated as if it could be his last -it may as well be, "you don't drink tea."
"No, I don't," you agree, "but you do." Your lower lip gets caught in between your teeth once again, as it has happened for the last few- minutes? Hours? Who knows anymore? "I wanted to surprise you with-... with a cuppa when we got to t-the safehouse..."
You clearly should've followed his example and kept your sentences short, you think as your diaphragm painfully struggles to keep your lungs filled with oxygen.
"...You make shit tea though," he grumbled - now you can clearly hear the wheeze hidden in his breathing.
"... would've made it wi' luv," your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, and you try not to think of the amount of time you've gradually lost sensation in your body. Instead, you try to peek at him again as you hear a slow ruffle of movement, and this time an ungloved hand comes to your field of vision.
Open face up. Inviting.
You don't think twice and muster whatever little strength you have in your body to move your left hand closer to his.
If the struggle makes you tear up, you don't care. If your pained whimpers break his heart, he doesn't comment on it.
He just grasps your hand as soon as there's skin-on-skin contact, thankful that there's still warmth on your fingers.
Fading, but still there.
"...Didn't say... I wouldn't drink it."
"...Yer' too kind, sir..." Your ears feel like padded in cotton, but you can still hear yourself. If you had any energy - or air in your lungs - you would laughed at how much you started sounding like Soap. "...'s an hon'r to be wi' you, Lt..."
Several seconds passed in silence, and you think you won't get any more answers, and mentally prepare yourself to close your eyes one last time.
But there's something happening with your hand in his.
One squeeze.
Pause.
Another squeeze.
And a last one.
"... waited too long to tell you," his voice reaches you again, watery and choked up, " hope tis' works..."
Go figure, you still had tears to shed. Or is it the rain droplets finally landing on your skin? You don't know. You don't care.
You try to reciprocate, but can only apply three soft squeezes with the pads of your thumb on the soft muscle between his thumb and index fingers.
The choked up sob you hear is a good guess that he received your reply.
"...'m sleepy," your whisper reaches him, and he mourns the lost time.
He's never void of regrets, isn't he?
"...g'night, luv," he tries to sound warm to you, always.
"...g'night, Simon..."
Oh, how sweet his name sounds, coming from your lips in a whisper.
Taglist: @warenai @queen-of-hearts-lemon-tarts @embers-of-alluring
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luveline · 7 months
Note
if you’re not sick of the fainting fics yet would you write one with sirius? have a good day gorgeous <3
thank you for your request! i hope you have a good day too ♡ fem!reader
"Hey, sweet girl," Sirius says. A saccharine pet name said rather simply, smoke blown from either corner of his mouth. "You okay?" 
You shrug your shoulders. Sirius sits in the shade, the dusk sunlight kissing the rubber toes of his shoes where he's laid his legs out over the steps into the house. "Did James finish my juice?" 
Sirius scratches his eyebrow, weary not to burn himself with the cigarette held between his index and middle finger. Smoky whorls chase up the side of his face. "Uh, no, but Remus' boyfriend might have thinking it was his. Remus said he'll buy you two to replace it." 
"I don't mind. Just. Think I might need the sugar." 
Sirius squints at you, stubbing his cigarette out hurriedly against the stone steps and standing up. He's in sweats and one of your old t-shirts, blue hair dye staining up the left side like a superheated flame. "You still not feeling well?" he asks.
You offer your hand for holding. Sirius takes it, using the other to angle your face up toward the porch light. 
"Say?" he murmurs, prompting you when you don't answer. 
"I feel wobbly, Siri. Like I could faint. I know I won't, but I still feel rough," you say. 
Sirius looks about as alarmed as a person can get, pulling you up the steps to the house he shares with his mates and down the hallway. "Not having that," he says as he goes, rubbing your cold fingers. "Don't worry. You'll feel better after some dinner. Let me make you a quick crumpet or something. Piece of toast?" 
"I can wait until later on."
He drops your hand in favour of cupping your cheek. "No. Try and have something, my love. I have a bit of soreen here," —he turns away from you to rummage through the bread cupboard— "thick layer of butter and you'll be right." 
You blink against a strange feeling, but it isn't something you can shuck off. A weight gathers in your hands and your knees go weak, and you think, Oh, I'm actually going to faint. 
You manage to put your hands behind you and crumple that way, onto your bum rather than forward into Sirius' back. Your head clips a cupboard door and Sirius spins on the spot, soreen falling in a hurricane of crumbs by your leg. 
"Fuck," he says, on his knees in an instant. You slouch unbidden, and you don't recall passing out, but one moment you're unfurling like a pill bug and the next you've been pulled flat onto your back. Sirius looks down at you in a panic. "Woah, hello. Don't do that again, yeah?" 
"I don't think she really had a choice, mate."
You squint across the kitchen at James, one of Sirius' best friends and roommates. He approaches with a pillow from the lounge, dropping it by your head. "Get your head on that, babe," he says. 
Sirius lifts your head onto the pillow, scowling. "Fucking christ. You need to keep me informed when you're about to go sledding across the kitchen, my love," he says. "We could've sat down. Had a breather." 
"I didn't really know," you mumble. "My legs hurt." 
"You're supposed to elevate them," James says. "Get your blood flowing more to your brain." 
"Lift her legs then, James."
"She's your bird." 
"I'm busy," Sirius says crossly, his hands tucked up by your neck. He turns away from James to give you his full attention, his incredulousness melding to a soft, sad worry. "What's the matter with you? I could've caught you if you'd said." He turns your face from the side. "Just take it easy for a bit, yeah? Do you feel tired?" 
James sighs and grabs your legs to hoist in the air. You're too lethargic to fluster, though you gasp when your back starts to lift from the floor.
"James, you prick, don't deadlift her," Sirius scolds. His tone switches as soon as he meets your eyes. "You're alright," he says, thumbing along your jaw. "You'll be fine." 
"This is too much fuss," you say breathlessly. 
Sirius takes a deep, heaving breath. "Feel my heart," he says, holding your hand to his chest. "Feel that? You scared the fuck out of me. This is the correct amount of fuss." 
He and James keep you there until Remus comes home with a two litre carton of orange juice to save you. "I think half an hour will do it," Remus says, all the tone of an eye roll without the action. "Get the poor girl off the floor. She has crumbs in her hair." 
Sirius arranges you on the sofa, though really you're in his lap, James absconded for a rescue takeaway and Remus hoovering up the exploded soreen from the sounds of it.  "Good thing you're poorly," Sirius says, smoothing your hair back to kiss your cheek. "I hate hoovering." 
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nochukoo97 · 1 year
Text
boyfriend drabbles (pt.1)
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pairing: Jungkook x reader
summary: fluff omg, jk being a cute bf, painting each others nails and its just basically cute stuff HAHA
word count: 600+
boyfriend drabbles masterlist!
Ever since you and Jungkook had started dating three years ago, he became a major part of your daily life, and even on days where he would not be able to see you in person, your boyfriend would always make the effort to give you a call and whisper sweet nothings into the phone.
One of your adopted habits was to include your boyfriend in every aspect of your life. Whether it was a casual get-together with your own circle of friends or any other social event, you had an inclination to bring Jungkook along with you, a gesture that he wholeheartedly embraced, never once expressing reluctance or complaint.
In this case, Jungkook finds himself trailing behind you and your best friend, Sohee, as the both of you enter the familiar shop. A subtle wince crosses his face as he observes the two of you quickening your pace, your excited squeals filling the air upon reaching closer to the rows of products displayed before you.
Jungkook watches as the both of you light up upon noticing a small booth, remembering you had mentioned once about that particular brand. A quiet hum leaves his mouth as he watches the both of you excitedly swatch the different shades of eyeshadow, but to him, they look exactly the same shade.
“___, I’m gonna go to the toilet, wait for me here okay? Don’t you dare to try other stuff without me,” Sohee raises a finger at you playfully as she walks off. Now it’s only you and Jungkook, and your boyfriend is more than content to finally get some of your attention.
“Jagi,” Jungkook whines as he leans down to peck you on the lips, you chuckle as you reach up to ruffle his hair in sympathy. Poor boy, you thought.
“If we stay here any longer I’m literally going to go insane,” He whines, eyes adverting to your hand filled with various makeup products smeared onto your skin.
“I promise we’ll be quick,” A laugh sounds out from your mouth at his exasperated state, as Jungkook sighs, mentally cursing at himself for not charging his phone the night before, now that it’s battery had gone flat.
You begin to test out more shades where you and Sohee had left off, not leaving anywhere else, but it seems as though your boyfriend had other plans.
“Hey!” You gasp as Jungkook gently tugs on your arm, forcing you to follow along behind him as he trudges towards another aisle.
“Baby, what are you doing?” You question his sudden actions when your boyfriend reaches for the nail polish tester and raises your hand to paint your index finger oh-so-gently, his brows furrowed as he tries his best to paint within the nail. You begin to laugh at Jungkook’s sudden actions, but he cuts you off, “Jagi, stop moving, you’re gonna make me mess up,”
After he’s done painting your fingernail, Jungkook looks contented at his little artwork on your nail, and then he proceeds to attempt to paint his own finger too, but it’s harder for him when he attempts to use his non-dominant hand to paint. A disgruntled sound emits from his mouth, eyebrows furrowing as you grab the nail polish from his hand to do it yourself.
“I should have known you would betray me for you man,” You hear Sohee dramatically sigh as she approaches the both of you, Jungkook sticking his tongue out at her as she rolls her eyes.
Even though you and Sohee had spent at least another good twenty minutes in that store, your boyfriend didn’t mind as he held your hand the whole time, sometimes hugging you from behind and leaning his head on your shoulder as your best friend clearly annoyed from the third-wheeling.
a/n: hello!! i kinda wrote this in a rush without really planning so it might not be the best but its really short anyways haha, i realised i havent been putting a note at the end of my fics recently 😭 and i want to talk with you guys more! i also def need more inspo to write more scenarios so if you guys have any pleasee send an ask to me ❤️
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