#had to keep blinking them away so i could fucking read what they were saying
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ᴛʀɪᴘʟᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ
Bruce Wayne x Reader x Jonathan Crane (NSFW)
When you notice Dr. Jonathan Crane watching you and your husband at a fundraising party, you get a little curious. When Dr. Crane angers you, he presses you to explore that anger. Will he regret it?
warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (both vaginal and anal), oral sex, cock warming, anal sex, anal fingering, blowjobs, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, porn without much plot, masturbation, forced masturbation, threesome, male x male, male x female, male x male x female, cum swallowing, spitting, face sitting, face fucking, crying, sub/dom tones, dom!reader, sub!jonathan, kinda sub!bruce but not really, ya know, just pure filth
word count: 5254
author’s note: welcome to our one-way ticket to hell besties <3 I didn't proofread this because it just poured out of me and I was truly possessed by the writing demon today. I had an idea and literally ran with it. I don't think I've ever written something so filthy before lol please enjoy and give feedback!! READ THE WARNINGS this fic isn't for everyone tbh.
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MOODBOARD FOR THIS FIC
One thing about being married to the Bruce Wayne was he had a thing for throwing parties and fundraisers at your mansion. This meant you had to dress up quite a bit, and you had to look really good as you were Bruce’s wife, of course. He always ensured you had the newest and most gorgeous gowns to show off at the gatherings. You’d spend the whole day getting your hair, makeup, and nails done, only to be at the parties for a few hours. And that was usually because Bruce had other duties in the city, he got too distracted by what you were wearing and needed you right then, or he simply let his antisocial side creep up on him. Tonight at the fundraiser he’s throwing, he seems content and has been by your side most of the night. Nothing drastic was going on in the city that demanded his action. But something was bothering him, you could tell. He’s slightly off, and you catch him staring at someone in the crowd a few times. You’re never able to pick them out, though.
You and Bruce are by the champagne table, and you notice Bruce is gazing out into the crowd of partygoers again.
“Bruce?” you ask softly, putting a hand on his bicep, “You alright?”
Bruce blinks hard a few times before turning to you, “I’m fine, darling.”
“You sure? You seem distracted by something this evening,” you scan the room, but to no avail for whomever Bruce is focused on.
“I just thought I recognized someone,” Bruce says, sipping his drink.
“Hmm. Alright, then.”
“Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” Bruce smiles, letting a hand slide across the small of your back.
“Only about a thousand times,” you giggle, leaning into your husband.
You happen to look up, and that’s when you see him staring at the two of you. Dr. Jonathan Crane. He quickly averts his eyes away, but you have already caught him.
“Is it Dr. Crane that you recognize?” you ask Bruce, motioning to where he’s standing with some other rich psychologists.
“Yeah,” Bruce exhales, shrugging, “I thought he had left the city a while ago.”
“After the asylum got turned loose? I figured so, too. Oh well,” you say, looking up at Bruce, “If he’s here, then he’s donating, so maybe it’s not so bad.”
“You have a point,” Bruce raises his eyebrows, “I’m still keeping an eye on him, though.”
You knew of a few of the villains Bruce has come in contact with, including Jonathan. He had almost killed your best friend and sent the whole city insane. Who knows what would have happened to Gotham if it weren't for Bruce. But a part of you is curious about Jonathan- a deep, intellectual part of you. Why is he still here? Is he still a doctor? Your brain becomes dizzy with all the questions. If Jonathan is here acting casually on his own accord, you could, too. You tear away from Bruce without a word, drink in hand. Bruce calls after you, panic surging through him when he realizes where you’re headed.
“Dr. Crane,” you smile upon arriving in front of him and another psychologist, “Wonderful to see you here.”
“Ah, Mrs. Wayne. I wouldn’t miss a marvelous party for a good cause. Have you met Dr. Robin here?” Jonathan smiles back, not missing a single beat.
“I have not,” you look over to the tall woman in front of Jonathan, clad in a pantsuit. You reach out a hand for her to shake, “Y/N Wayne.”
“I know who you are, Mrs. Wayne,” Dr. Robin says politely, her Australian accent strong, “Your dress is quite lovely, I must say.”
“Thank you,” you reply with a smile, willing her to leave so you could speak with Jonathan alone.
“Well, I’ll be off. Seems you two have something to discuss,” Dr. Robin announces her departure, much to your relief.
“It was nice meeting you,” you say sweetly as she walks away.
“You as well, Mrs. Wayne.”
You turn to Jonathan, who clears his throat as he looks you up and down. You’re nearly the same height as him, if not slightly taller, in your heels.
“It’s really brave of you to be here, Dr. Crane,” you turn your head to the side, giving him a closed-lip smile.
“Please, call me Jonathan,” Jonathan responds, “And what would you mean by that?”
You take a step closer to him, leaning into his ear, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Jonathan. Or should I say, Mr. Scarecrow.”
Jonathan doesn’t flinch. In fact, he grins at you as he exhales a laugh, “Those days are behind me, I’m afraid.”
“Uh-huh,” you cross your arms, “And why should I believe you?”
Jonathan glances behind you to look at Bruce, who is on edge and watching the entire conversation to ensure nothing is tried. A muscle in Jonathan’s jaw twitches, “You don’t have to. But if I were up to no good, why would I be in the presence of the Batman and his lover? Quite unintelligent, wouldn’t you think?”
“And why are you here, exactly?”
“Trying to get myself back into the Gotham scene,” Jonathan looks at you matter-of-factly, “I’ve missed a lot being gone, you know.”
“Oh, I do know. And maybe you should’ve stayed gone,” you try not to snarl at him.
“Now, now, Mrs. Wayne. That is no way to speak to a donor,” Jonathan says, his voice dripping like honey with malice.
“You better be glad there are people around or-”
“Or what?” Jonathan asks, raising his eyebrows, a smirk itching at his lips.
“I’d fucking break you right here.”
“Sounds like a fun time. However, I’m not sure your husband would appreciate that in many, many ways.”
You scoff, “Don’t be crass. I’m not flirting with you. If I were, you’d know it.”
“There’s a fine line between desire and hatred, my dear,” Jonathan whispers in your ear, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin, “It’s a fun line to walk.”
Annoyance swells in your chest. You desperately wanted him to shut his bratty mouth. You also wanted to enjoy the rest of the party, but now that Jonathan had you riled up in anger, you wanted nothing more than to slam him against the wall and-
“Everything okay over here?” Bruce approaches suddenly, taking you by surprise.
“Everything is fine, sweetheart,” you place your hand on Bruce’s chest as a warning, “Nothing to worry about.”
“Dr. Crane isn’t bothering you, is he?” Bruce’s nostrils flare.
“Not at all,” you defend the doctor, “In fact, I’m probably annoying him.”
Bruce laughs humorlessly, “Oh, is that so?”
You cock your head at him, “Did you need something, dear?”
“Just want to speak with you privately,” Bruce says.
You go to say something, but Bruce interrupts you, “Both of you.”
If Jonathan is just as confused as you are, he doesn’t show it.
“Lead the way, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce walks briskly to one of the guest rooms down the hall from the ballroom, making sure no one is following or watching the three of you. He ushers you and Jonathan inside, following suit before closing the door behind him.
“You know,” Jonathan says, breaking the silence, “I never pegged Mrs. Wayne for the threatening type out of the two of you.”
You bite your tongue, and Bruce looks over at you.
“Say what you want to say. I brought the two of you in here so you could solve your conversation away from those nosy fuckers outside,” Bruce rolls his eyes, fixing his cuff links.
“We aren’t children, Bruce,” you scowl.
“Then act like it,” Bruce sasses back.
“I do not need two men on my bad side right now. Remember what happens when you’re on my bad side, Bruce?”
Bruce looks between you and Jonathan, a hint of nervousness in his eye, “Don’t bring him into this, darling.”
“No, no. I’m curious now,” Jonathan grins deviously, stepping closer to you, “What happens when someone is on your bad side, Mrs. Wayne?”
Now realizing how your words and threats may have sounded all night to Jonathan, you backpedal.
“Not what you think, Dr. Crane,” you cross your arms, taking a step back from the doctor.
“Oh really? So your antagonizing and threats don’t mean anything?”
“What do you think they mean?”
“As I said earlier, desire and hatred are very close to one another,” Jonathan says suavely, “And I honestly can’t tell which you feel toward me.”
You make a disgusted sound despite the growing need to pin this man down and give him what for. Not even sexually, but simply because you’re tired of him speaking. However, Jonathan wasn’t bad-looking by any means- and sometimes, you and Bruce liked to try new things. But you don’t think Bruce would want to fuck with a murderer and criminal, especially one he’s had close encounters within the city. Jonathan almost burned him alive once, so you aren’t sure about whatever he’s insinuating going very far with your husband.
“Hatred,” you spit, “It’s hatred. Plus,” you look over at Bruce, “I don’t think my lover would appreciate me having anything to do with you anyway.”
Jonathan snorts, his eyes flickering between you and your husband, “Are you so sure about that?”
You furrow your brow, laughing incredulously at him, “I’m certain.”
“I don’t know,” Bruce says suddenly, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the fucker squirm on your account, Y/N.”
You nearly gasped, suddenly very aware of the animosity you were aiming at Dr. Jonathan Crane, now becoming sexual in nature. Not that you meant for it to, but now that it was insinuated out loud by someone other than Jonathan, you pondered your true feelings. As you’ve said, Jonathan was a looker. If you weren’t married to Bruce and the man wasn’t psychotic, you wouldn’t mind taking him for a ride. But you are married, and he is psychotic.
Jonathan has his hands shoved in his pockets, a smirk on his face as he studies you, “You want this. Don’t deny it, Mrs. Wayne. I can tell by the look in your eyes.”
You purse your lips together, “What I want is for you to shut up and behave. All you do is act high and mighty when you’re nothing but a little rat.”
Bruce tries to hide his laugh by covering it with a cough, “I’ll let everyone know it’s time to leave. When I come back, you two better be taking care of things.”
You look at Bruce, who gives you a slight nod in approval to do as you wish before he steps out of the room. No one is in charge in the bedroom permanently between the two of you. The dominant role is shared or is back and forth, depending on the day. To your shock, Bruce gives you the complete reins in this situation. But Bruce knew how much you despised Dr. Crane for what he’s done, even if a part of you is desperately curious about him. Desperate enough to demean him sexually, even. You want to humiliate him. Make him cry and make him regret having even come here. You want him to think of you whenever he feels shame or embarrassment for the rest of his life.
“A little rat, huh?” Jonathan chuckles, undoing his cufflinks.
“Yes,” you blink, forcing him to walk backward to the bed as he struggles to remove his blazer.
You shove him roughly onto the bed, watching him bounce from the mattress with a look of disorientation. Jonathan eventually gets his blazer off, discarding it onto the floor. You can’t properly climb on the bed with your gown on, so you reach behind your back, undoing the clasps that hold the silver dress together. You kick off your glittery heels, letting the gown slip to the floor in a pile. Underneath your dress, you decided a black lingerie set would do nicely. You’re glad you picked well, considering such a doting man was now staring at you like you were a piece of meat and he was starving. You try to ignore the logical side of your brain telling you this man is dangerous and crazy. But the other side of your brain is telling you that his cock is definitely dangerous and crazy, too. And you wanted to find out for sure.
“Now,” you begin to crawl to where Jonathan wordlessly lays, watching you carefully, “Are you going to be good and keep your mouth shut, pretty boy?”
“No promises,” Jonathan flashes a toothy grin, and you angrily rip his button-up open, buttons flying everywhere across the room.
Jonathan’s mouth hangs open, “That was an expensive shirt.”
“Nothing you can’t replace,” you shrug, running your hands along Jonathan’s handsome chest before letting your nails graze his nipples.
Jonathan shudders at the feeling, and you remove your hands from him, sitting back on your heels, “Lay on the pillows.”
“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Jonathan purrs, doing as told, surprisingly.
You hear the door open behind you, and you turn around quickly to see Bruce.
“Everyone is cleared out. Brought some fun stuff, too,” he places a box on the floor, kicking it to the end of the bed for you to grab it.
You lean down over the edge of the bed and retrieve the box, crawling on your knees to where Jonathan lies. You open the box and hum in satisfaction at Bruce’s choice of toys and trinkets. You fiddle with one toy, dragging your gaze to Jonathan with a wicked smile on your face. But before you reveal the toy, you snatch some rope out of the box.
“Now you have no choice but to be good, Dr. Crane,” you snicker, offering Bruce some of the rope to tie Jonathan’s left wrist to the bedpost with.
You tie Jonathan’s right wrist tight enough for him not to move too much but not enough to where blood flow is cut off. Jonathan tugs at the rope, looking at you and Bruce with a nervous yet exhilarating smile.
“I’m privileged to be living such a fantasy,” Jonathan sighs.
“You’ll be wishing you had never stepped foot in this house when she’s done with you,” Bruce smirks, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling his sleeves up.
“Ah,” Jonathan laughs.
Before he can comment any further, you shove a ball gag into his mouth, strapping it behind his head securely. A deep feeling of satisfaction to him finally being quiet fills you. But the joy of seeing such an evil man at your mercy is more intense.
“You better be glad I chose the ball gag instead of having Bruce have his way with that pretty mouth of yours, Crane,” you say, and Bruce shakes his head from where he stands beside the bed.
Drool begins seeping out of the sides of Jonathan’s mouth, and you can’t help but coo at the sight of his tightening pants and his reddening cheeks. You grab his face between your fingers, squishing his flesh. You hum in satisfaction before letting go of his face and focusing on his slacks. You all but tear his belt off his hips, hurrying to unbutton his pants before ripping them down his thighs. Bruce removes the pants the rest of the way as you climb onto Jonathan’s lap, your clothed core atop his throbbing, leaking bulge.
You kiss Jonathan’s jaw, leaving harsh bites along the column of his throat as you travel down, continuing your assault on the skin of his chest and torso. You reach the band of his underwear, which you tease with your hands, snapping the band against Jonathan’s skin. He tries his best to laugh from underneath the ball gag, spit sputtering from the gaps of his mouth. You slowly peel his underwear down his legs, watching as his hard cock slaps against his stomach. You let Bruce pull the underwear off completely, and he tosses it somewhere in the room to be found later. You lean down to lick the bead of precum off Jonathan's tip before pulling away completely, allowing Bruce the room to tie up the doctor’s ankles to the bottom bedposts. You stand at the foot of the bed, chuckling darkly as Jonathan struggles against the restraints.
“Not so powerful now, are you, Dr. Crane?” you laugh, knowing he didn’t like you calling him by his professional name, “You look so pathetic, lying there with your poor cock out for us to see. Bet you wish one of us would touch it for you, hmm?”
Jonathan stays silent, his eyes boring into yours as he yanks his arms, testing the rope’s strength. He realizes he truly can’t move or speak and that he’s entirely at you and Bruce’s mercy. Not the worst position to be in, Jonathan thinks.
“Which of us should do the honors?” you ask Bruce, a playful smile on your face.
It isn’t often Bruce gets to mess with the other man during your experimental sexual encounters. Still, you figure this is personal enough for him to want to be involved.
“You can take this one. I’ve got other plans,” Bruce says, smirking deviously.
“Oh really?” you grin, “I’m excited to see those.”
You climb back on the bed, moving toward Jonathan’s lap, where his weeping cock is getting redder by the second. Grabbing the base of it, you move it forward enough for it to meet your lips. You lap your tongue on Jonathan’s tip, smearing the precum around before licking a stripe up his entire length. You pull away, letting his cock slap painfully against his stomach again. You harshly grip Jonathan’s balls, causing him to cry out muffled. You massage them as you take his length into your mouth, bobbing your head as you continue to take him in entirely. You press your breasts into the bed, letting your ass be exposed for Bruce to take advantage of as you suck off Jonathan. Bruce wastes no time walking over to you, letting his hands run over your asscheeks before he pulls your pretty black underwear off. Bruce dips his head down to flatten his tongue against your wet slit, gathering your arousal as he swirls it around your cunt. You moan around Jonathan’s cock, causing him to twitch.
“God, I love this pussy,” Bruce pants against you, “Too bad you can’t get a taste, Crane.”
You peer your eyes up to Jonathan’s, his icy blue eyes now dark from his blown pupils. He’s glaring at Bruce, trying to regulate his breathing as his tip hits the back of your throat. Jonathan’s eyes roll into the back of his head as you fuck him with your mouth, letting his cock slam into your throat. Jonathan tries to thrust into your mouth, but you push his hips down against the mattress. You’re slobbering, and tears are streaming down your face as you take his length as much as you can, wanting him to get as close to cumming as possible. Bruce sucks your clit harshly, letting two fingers slip into your wet pussy. You groan, the vibrations sending Jonathan batty. You feel him getting close, and you blindly fumble around for the box of toys that still remains on the bed somewhere. You find it, pulling off Jonthan’s cock as it twitches uncontrollably. He growls as you find the toy you were looking for. You give Jonathan a few pumps, gripping his length as tight as you can, watching as the precum helplessly spills from him. Before Jonathan can react or cum, you slip a cock ring onto him, sliding it down to his base. He cries out from behind the ball gag, his chest heaving. You lay your head on his thigh, watching as his cock turns bright red. Bruce continues to eat you out, his teeth brushing against your clit occasionally, causing you to moan. Your breath hits Jonathan’s angry length, making him shiver. You look him in the eyes as Bruce adds a third finger, fucking into your g spot harshly as he bites at your bundle of nerves. You maintain eye contact with Jonathan as you cum, letting your nails dig into the soft flesh on his thighs.
“Lucky for me,” you trace Jonathan’s tip teasingly with your finger, catching your breath, “I get to cum as much as I want.”
Jonathan stares at you without making a sound, focusing on his breathing so he doesn’t explode into a fine mist from the overstimulation.
“Now it’s your turn since you’ve been a good boy,” you remove the ball gag from Jonathan’s mouth, licking up his spit from his lips before he can lick it off himself.
“Open your mouth,” you demand, and Jonathan does as told.
You gather his and your saliva in your mouth before spitting it onto his tongue.
“Now show me how good you are at eating pussy, Dr. Crane.”
You flip yourself around, hovering over Jonathan’s face as you slowly remove the cock ring. Bruce removes his button-up, laying down between Jonathan’s spread legs. Jonathan lets out a strangled cry at the feeling of Bruce’s hot mouth on his sensitive cock. You push your pulsing cunt onto Jonathan’s face, to which he happily starts lapping hungrily. You watch as Bruce hollows his cheeks around Jonathan, and the sight alone makes you even wetter than before.
“Fuck,” you mutter, Bruce’s eyes meeting yours.
You rock your hips against Jonathan’s tongue, urging him to continue. Jonathan wishes he could bury his fingers in your cunt, but he settles for his tongue instead. Twisting and pushing it inside you, he uses his nose to press against your clit, shaking his head. You grip Jonathan’s hair, cursing at the feeling of his tongue dragging in your walls and his nose flicking your bundle of nerves. You grasp your barely clothed breasts, letting your thumbs play with your nipples through the thin lace. Bruce moans around Jonathan while watching you, letting Jonathan fuck into his throat.
“Wanna cum, you piece of shit?” Bruce pulls off Jonathan, who gasps a ‘yes,’ “Be careful what you ask for,” Bruce chuckles.
You plan on milking the doctor for all he’s got all night. You want him spent and begging for mercy. Anything to make him miserable.
Bruce takes Jonathan back into his mouth, bobbing up and down quickly and stroking what he won’t take into his mouth. Bruce allows Jonathan to buck his hips into his face. Jonathan lets out a pitiful cry as he cums in your husband’s mouth, white-hot spurts of seed shooting down Bruce’s throat. You feel Jonathan roll your clit between his teeth before sucking it between his lips as he rides his high. You growl, letting your self-control go out the window. You chase your own high, letting Jonathan torture and tease your bundle of nerves with his tongue and teeth until you finally release in his mouth. Jonathan slurps and suckles every drop of your arousal from your cunt, licking until you pull off him.
“Lucky for you,” you pant, beginning to untie the rope bound to Jonathan’s wrists, “This next part requires your cooperation. Promise you’ll behave?”
“Yes, Mrs. Wayne,” Jonathan nods.
You let Bruce finish untying the doctor as you discard your bra. You instruct Jonathan to move to the side, allowing you to lie down in his place. You demand that Jonathan climb on top of you. he does as told, and Bruce roughly pushes Jonthan’s face into your chest. You laugh at Bruce’s typical roughness, especially when it makes Jonathan look flustered. His ass is now in the air, revealed to Bruce.
“Have you ever been fucked in the ass like a good boy?” you ask Jonathan, your fingers in his hair.
He doesn’t look at you or respond.
“I’m asking you a question, Jonathaaan,” you say threateningly, your fingers now gripping his hair harshly as you lift his head for him to look at you.
“No,” Jonathan says breathlessly.
“Well, that’s about to change,” you say, “Any regrets about being smart-mouthed to me yet, Dr. Crane?”
Jonathan glares at you, panting as Bruce spreads his ass apart, “Not yet.”
“Good,” you smile, letting his head drop abc to your chest, “Now obey me and show me how much you’re enjoying this.”
You move Jonathan’s face, maneuvering his mouth to your hardened and sensitive nipple. Bruce takes some lube from the box he brought, smearing it against his fingers before teasing Jonathan’s asshole with the tip of his index finger. Jonathan keens around you, his body beginning to shake as Bruce slowly pushes a finger inside him. Jonathan sucks harshly on your nipple, gasping as your husband wiggles his finger inside his tight ass. He laps at your bud, focusing on trying to please you and taking Bruce’s long finger simultaneously. A second finger is added, stretching Jonathan further. The doctor lets out a sharp groan at the delectable burn. He attacks your other breast, letting his finger circle around the one he was just attached to. Bruce prods a third finger into Jonathan, and he lurches forward from the feeling of fullness.
“If you think you’re full now, just wait for Bruce’s fat cock, baby boy,” you taunt.
Bruce twists and curls his fingers inside Jonathan, doing his best to prep him for his unforgiving length. When he pulls his hand away, Jonathan gasps from the sudden emptiness. Bruce spreads his ass apart again, his slacks and underwear now discarded as his hardened cock pressed against Joanthan’s gaping hole. Jonathan whimpers around your nipple, pausing momentarily as Bruce slides himself into Jonathan.
“Fuck,” Jonathan shudders.
“You can stop now. I need you elsewhere,” you pull Jonathan’s head off your breasts, sneaking your hand between the two of you to his newly hardened cock, stroking it in your hand in time for Bruce to bottom out.
Jonathan whines, collapsing on your torso as the air leaves him.
“Tapped out already?” you pout, sticking your bottom lip out at Jonathan when you lift his head by his hair again, “Too fucking bad.”
Bruce then pulls out of Jonathan almost all the way before slamming back into him, his tip brushing against Jonathan’s prostate. Jonathan screams as you guide his cock between your slick folds, his body overstimulated. You let Jonathan weakly push his length inside your soaking cunt, your walls enveloping him immediately. Bruce wraps an arm around Jonathan’s chest, anchoring himself to the doctor. His other hand grips Jonathan’s hip with intensity. The feeling of Bruce pounding into Jonathan’s tight little ass affects you directly as Jonathan pushes deeper inside you every time Bruce thrusts into him. Soon, a rhythm is established, and you’re nearly in tears from pleasure as you watch Jonathan become a withering, crying mess underneath Bruce.
“Doing so good taking Bruce’s huge cock,” you praise Jonathan, bucking your hips with his every time he involuntarily moves forward, “You could at least try a little harder to fuck me like you want to, though.”
Jonathan’s forehead is teeming with sweat as he struggles to actually thrust into you while Bruce fucks into his prostate. You give him the benefit of the doubt- the first time getting fucked in the ass is intense. So you rock and swivel your hips on Jonathan’s cock roughly, letting him reach up to grab your breasts for leverage. He pinches your nipples, twisting them hard, sending electricity to your cunt. You pulse around Jonathan’s length, causing him to grunt miserably. Bruce’s hips are slapping onto Jonathan’s asscheeks loudly, and Jonathan’s cock twitches pitifully inside you.
“Cum, sweet thing,” you coax Jonathan, whose hair has long since lost its gel hold and has begun flopping into his face, “Cum inside me.”
Jonathan starts fucking into you the best he can, tears streaming down his face as he cums, a hoarse scream leaving his throat. Bruce is still fucking him without mercy, and you let Jonathan’s soft cock remain inside you as he whimpers helplessly, his hands gripping your sides.
“That’s it,” you praise him gently, “Let Batman fuck you silly like you deserve.”
Jonathan peers up at you, giving you the dirtiest look he can muster as you cackle, Bruce grunting as he cums inside Jonthan’s ass and on his back.
“Christ,” Bruce sighs, pushing his hair from his face as he winces, pulling out of Jonathan’s quivering asshole.
Jonathan collapses on top of you in a mess of sweat, tears, and cum. You let him catch his breath before sliding out from under him.
“One last thing, sweetie,” you say, your tone sugary, “Sit up on the bed for us.”
Jonathan weakly pushes himself up, flipping onto his back and laying his head on the pillows.
“Touch yourself,” you demand, sitting on your knees at the end of the bed beside Bruce, “I want you to cum until you can’t cum anymore.”
Jonathan opens his mouth to protest, but you motion for him to shush, to which he tiredly gives in. You dip your hand to your slick clit, swiping at it as Jonathan strokes his sensitive cock for you. Bruce watches you and Jonathan touch yourselves, unable to really get himself up again. He instead sits behind you, playing with your tits and rubbing his large hands on your hot, sticky skin. Bruce relishes in watching Jonathan fall apart as he looks away in embarrassment.
“Keep your eyes on me, Crane,” Bruce’s voice booms, making Jonathan jump.
Jonathan gulps, reluctantly keeping eye contact with Bruce as he bucks into his hand, moaning hoarsely as he gets close. He can’t help but think about how he was between the two of you, getting fucked by you and Bruce at the same time. With that, cum shoots from his overused cock onto his stomach, and he cries out in embarrassment when you demand he get off again.
You stay like that, letting Bruce replace your hand as you spread your legs further open to allow him to fuck you with his fingers. You bounce on them, moaning quietly as Jonathan fights to keep his eyes open, his wrist flicking to the best of his ability. The night goes on, and Jonathan eventually taps out, sobbing almost uncontrollably as he runs out of cum. You and Bruce give him time alone before slowly moving him to the shower, where you help him wash off. You and your husband also washed yourselves off, assisting Jonathan out of the shower when you were all done. He’s wrapped in a towel, wincing as he walks back to the bed and curls up under the covers. You follow suit, wrapping your arms around Jonathan and soothing him as he finally falls asleep. Bruce holds you from behind, sighing contently.
“Too bad it takes doing this to humble a villain,” Bruce jokes.
“And the fact I could help was exciting,” you chuckle, “I never get to fight criminals like you do.”
“Maybe you should. You’ve got the mouth for it. Your sass is unmatched,” Bruce buries his nose in your hair.
“Mmm, I think I’m good,” you say, stroking Jonathan’s hair out of his face, “One villain is enough for me, I think.”
You and Bruce quietly watch the evil, despicable fucker sleep soundly.
“Can we keep him?” you ask Bruce, to which he tries not to burst out laughing.
“So you can torture him more? Absolutely.”
“Awesome.”
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mystified
summary: after sudden attacks on women around town, you take a self defense class. ellie, your long standing crush is the instructor
fair warning, future chapters will include discussions of abuse and other heavy topics. each part will contain its own warnings please read them! eventual smut
part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4
cw: small interaction with a scary man, smoking weed
fluff fluff and more fluff, a little angst. protective ellie makes an appearance
inhale, exhale. grunts and bodies slamming against gym mats could be heard outside the big double doors of ‘miller’s defense studio.’ news of women being attacked at night had been circulating quite loudly in your sleepy town. dad says you should attend the free session, be able to defend yourself if anything happens. only problem was half the town was in here and you fucking hated being around large groups of people. you had your pepper spray keychain on you at all times, did you really need to learn how to fight? yeah, probably.
one of the many annoying things about being in such a small town is knowing everyone. at least your best friend dina and her boyfriend jesse were here to soften the blow of all of this chaos.
sat on the sidelines, you observe everyone attempting to show off sloppy, embarrassing ‘defense’ moves. jesse spots you and obnoxiously yells your name across the gym. rolling your eyes, you make your way over to him and dina.
“hey, ___ you’re late and you’re not gonna like what I have to tell you,” he smiles nervously. darting your eyes from him to dina, you eye them warily, regretting coming here even more now. “well? spit it out jesse.”
“jesus ok. well since you’re so late, there’s no one else for you to pair up with-“ you cut him off, “oh? that’s fine I’ll just watch then.” him and dina look at each other before she looks at you cautiously. “well, the only other person who doesn’t have a partner is the instructor for today.” you squint your eyes towards the front of the room trying to make out who it is, and oh fuck no, it’s ellie. the girl you’ve had a crush on for quite some time.
“ha, no fucking way. you guys can just teach me later. I am not making a fool of myself in front of her and the whole fucking town. you know I hate being the center of attention and she’s gonna demonstrate on me to teach everyone!” you turn your body attempting to walk away.
dina grabs your forearms softly trying to chill you out with her witchy, calming demeanor. because seriously how is she able to do that with just her touch? “you’re gonna be fine, ___. just breathe. no one else knows what they’re doing either, that’s why we’re here. you’re not gonna look like a fool,” she nods at you slowly, “plus, jesse already told her you’d be her partner.” she gives you an apologetic smile.
“ugh. why can’t you be her partner jesse? she’s your best friend.” dina grabs jesse’s arm and nuzzles into his side with a gross, love drunk smile. “because, I wanna be with my man. sorry, babe but you can do this. you can shamelessly use this as an excuse to be close to her anyway” she wiggles her eyebrows.
“oh my god,” you scoff and roll your eyes, “you guys seriously suck.”
an ear piercing whistle startles you, nearly making you jump out of your skin, and the room goes quiet. “good morning everyone, I’m ellie. welcome to miller’s defense studio. today, I’m going to be teaching you guys basic self defense techniques. learning self defense is more than how to prevent an attacker from overpowering you, but also about keeping a clear and calm head in the face of danger and how to gain the upper hand..”
her introduction speech fades from your ears as you observe her confident demeanor. dressed only in a simple white wife-beater tank and sweatpants, she still stands tall with a commanding presence. her hair sits in a low bun at the back of her neck, tattoo on full display while her toned arms move animatedly as she speaks.
you blink a few times snapping out of it as dina taps your shoulder and looks at you. “what?” she nods her head at ellie who is looking at you, waiting for you to join her at the front. your eyes widen briefly, “oh fuck.” you mutter under your breath.
you quickly walk up to her in embarrassment and she smirks at you as if she knows something that you don’t. she puts her hand on your hip and leans to turn on the bluetooth speaker behind you. “hey ___” she whispers in your ear. goosebumps travel down your body. fuck, this is gonna be a long day.
after some basic blocking and hitting techniques, ellie decides to teach everyone how to throw an attacker over your shoulder. many cry of “what if they’re taller or heavier?” blah blah, doesn’t matter. next thing you know, ellie turns and steps away from you, grabs your arm, squatting and lifts your hips against her ass before pulling your arm forward, rolling you off her hips onto the floor, wind knocked out of you, hand now around your throat. you lay there stunned, out of breath as ellie’s face hovers close to yours. you take a small glance at her lips before looking up into her eyes and she smirks, also out of breath. fuck, you were caught.
with everyone now practicing the technique, she grabs your hand and pulls you up. “you okay? didn’t go too rough on you?” she places her hands on her hips and looks you up and down so quickly that you could’ve easily missed it if you weren’t paying close attention.
you laugh “no, no, I’m fine. that was pretty crazy. when did you learn how to do all of this shit? I mean, I knew joel had this place obviously but I didn’t know you were involved in it.”
“hm.. well, when joel adopted me I had some.. anger issues, getting into fights all the time. he eventually gave up on trying to ‘change my ways’ and decided to train me how to fight properly so I wouldn’t hurt myself.. tricked me into taking out my aggression elsewhere, so I guess he ended up changing me anyway..” she chuckles “but, yeah I don’t teach or join in on the classes, I do it on my own time. joel’s been booked up so he convinced me to do this for him.” she scratches the back of her neck sheepishly and blushes. you wonder if it’s because she told you something personal or it’s because it’s her first time teaching.
“well.. I wouldn’t have guessed this was your first time. you really know how to command a room. you’re a natural,” you smile at her shyly. “dunno know if I really feel prepared to come up against an attacker though, maybe you could teach me some more.” you mentally pat yourself on the back for your brave attempt at flirting.
she laughs, “oh yeah?” moving closer to you. you look at her briefly before looking away. “mhm!” is what you come up with. jesus christ. she laughs again and nods. “alright, I guess I can make an exception for you and give you some free lessons. I’m gonna go do the closing speech or whatever the fuck joel wanted me to do..” she looks somewhere behind you and her eyes widen. you follow her line of sight and see dina and jesse look away abruptly. okay, suspicious.
as everyone is packing up their belongings, you make your way over to jesse and dina. dina smirks at you, “so?”
“so what..?” you furrow your brows. “how’d it go up there?” before you can respond, ellie comes over and greets you guys. “ellie! ___ and jesse are coming over tonight, you wanna come smoke and chill?” she looks at you as she answers “yeah, sure” she shrugs and then looks over at dina and jesse, “just text me and let me know.”
as you walk to dina’s house, the cold bitter air of winter sends a chill down your spine. all of a sudden you hear a car pulling up next to you and a window rolling down. the sound of a man’s voice has your adrenaline pumping. walking away quickly, you put your phone to your ear and pretend that you’re talking to someone “hey! you think you can help me with some directions? my phone is dead and I’m lost.” your heart is racing and you click off the safety on your pepper spray. another car comes to a screeching halt behind you. a slam of a car door and quick footsteps has you looking back in fear.
ellie comes into your line of sight and puts you behind her, looking at the man with a challenging gaze “is there a fucking problem here?” you hear a flicking sound and look down, eyes widening when you see a switchblade in her hand. he skids off and she manages to take a picture of his plates, putting the switchblade in her back pocket before turning to you. she gently grabs your shoulders and looks at you in concern. “you okay? what happened?” she looks down at your hands and you hadn’t realized until now that you’re shaking. “c’mon.” she grabs your hand and leads you to her car, opening the passenger door for you.
“why are you walking around by yourself? jesus, ___ you could’ve been..” she looks away from you, cutting herself off and shakes her head, clenching her jaw. “I would’ve picked you up.” she starts the car, and pulls away from the curb.
“I know! fuck. dina lives so close I thought- yeah it wasn’t smart knowing what’s been happening.” she turns her head to look at you briefly, her gaze softening. “just text me or something next time okay? I don’t want you walking around by yourself, I’ll pick you up.” you nod and take a deep breath. “thanks for the save,” you laugh, trying to soften the mood. she, however does not laugh which makes you even more nervous. great, you think, I pissed her off. she glances at you, noticing your nervous fidgeting. she briefly squeezes your hand “it’s okay, I’m just glad you’re safe” she gives you a small smile. you feel butterflies in your stomach. the rollercoaster of emotions from fear to anxiety and now to the feelings ellie is giving you are a lot.
“I’m gonna stop back home to show joel the pics of the plates and tell him what happened so he can take it to the authorities or whatever. I don’t really wanna be the one talking to the cops. you want me to drop you off at dina’s first?” she glances at you. “no, it’s cool I’ll come with you.”
ellie’s house can be described as old and rustic. outdated wood paneling lining the walls, decor and photos that give it a country feel, the cozy smell and crackling sound of the lit fireplace flooding your senses.
joel greets you warmly. small town means he’s seen you grow up, being friendly with your parents. his demeanor is rough around the edges with a don’t fuck with me attitude, but also very polite and caring. you now realize how similar ellie is to him.
as ellie explains the fucked up situation which occurred minutes ago, your phone vibrates in your pocket.
dina🤍: dont kill me pls but I have to cancel tonight. my mom found out im failing stats and she’s on the fuckin warpath. ill make it up to u promise xx
me: fuccck i’m at ellies rn she saved me from some shit i’ll tell u ab it later but now i’m nervous help🥲 sorry ab ur mom i’ll pray for ur soul
you lock your phone and put it back in your pocket. the internal panic of now having to be alone with ellie settles deep in your gut.
ellie walks over to you “alright, joel said he’s gonna deal with it. you all set to go?”
“did dina text you? check your phone.”
you watch ellie’s eyes glide across her screen and it gives you a moment to ogle over how fucking attractive she is. her long lashes, sharp jawline and freckles more pronounced due to the soft glow from her phone emitting against the low lighting of the room. she looks up at you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. “uhh fuck, well, do you want me to take you home?.. or we can hang out here if you want.” she looks away from you.
“yeah, I’m down to hang” you smile at her. she gives a small smile back and blushes. alright, maybe she feels the same way I do. “okay cool, you wanna smoke and watch a movie?”
smoke hazes around ellie’s dim lit room and the movie in the background is long forgotten. you’re laughing so fucking hard with tears in your eyes, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re so high or if ellie is really that funny. “you really decked your foster sibling in the face because he borrowed your savage starlight comic ellie?” she scoffs and throws a pillow at you. “he did not borrow it.. he stole that shit and thought he could get away with it. can’t let people fuck around with you like that in the system. makes you an easy target” she takes another drag of the joint.
“uh-huh,” you grab the joint and take a hit “well, clearly these kids learned not to fuck with the big, bad aggressive ellie huh?” she laughs and rolls her eyes “oh my god, shut up, ___.”
ellie thinks about how she likes that you’re not taking pity on her for her fucked up childhood, and how it’s so easy to talk to you. it feels natural opening up to you, not being able to do that with other people, not even jesse. it makes her like you even more.
you groan as you try to peel your heavy, post high eyes open feeling warmth around you, inhaling a scent filled with clean laundry and a hint of woodsy cologne. you open your eyes and see a sleeping ellie, mouth slightly parted, breathing slowly. your eyes widen, realizing your head is on her chest and her arm is wrapped around you. you glance over at her clock that reads 3:54am. fuck, you don’t even remember falling asleep. you move slightly trying not to wake ellie to text your mom saying that you fell asleep at dina’s. ellie stirs and groans, pulling you closer to her. fuck it. you don’t know if this will ever happen again. you close your eyes and drift back to sleep.
#ellie williams#emmysfics#ellie williams x reader#ellie tlou#ellie tlou2#ellie the last of us#ellie williams the last of us#ellie williams tlou#ellie x reader#ellie williams fanfic#tlou ellie#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams fic#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams x f!reader#ellie williams x female reader
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Infernal Desires | Chapter 1 | Coriolanus Snow
Summary: as penance for your brother's sins, Coriolanus demands that you are sent to his household to work his debt. But Coriolanus does not expect to burn so strongly for you and finds himself addicted to having you as close as he can keep you.
Chapter 2
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: enemies to lovers, explicit reference to sex, hair pulling, talk of ownership (bc we all know coryo has a complex), swearing, this is shit low key, coryo is a little shit but you know of course he is :P
Author's Note: this is the result of my assignment procrastination and now I am posting it at 2:30AM :)) this hasn't been beta read and actually it might seem a little disjointed but pls lmk if you have feedback for me if I end up carrying on with this series? lots of love!!
It is a debt to be paid, that’s all it is.
Easy enough for them to say. After all, it was you who suffered from the mistakes of your family and not them. They may as well have left you to the streets of the Districts with nothing more than a shattered dignity and the tears that trailed down your cheeks.
Shit. Crying wasn’t going to do anything and while you never intended to present yourself as weak to anyone, there was nothing you could do to stop the angry tears that welled in your eyes. You wondered if your parents truly pained to see their daughter cry or if the tremble in your mother’s lip was nothing more than a pretence.
Your father stared at the ground by your feet. “It wasn’t supposed to come to this.”
“But it did. Are you really going to sell me off to–”
“We aren’t selling you off. Stop saying that,” He snapped. “Maybe all you will have to do is dust a few shelves and brew a pot of tea every now and then. It cannot be that bad.”
The glare you sent his way was full of malice and rage. How could he say that? You were better than that, smarter than that and the thought of being reduced to who knows what that man had in store for you - they may as well have cut your tongue out and made you a slave. Knowing that your family, whom you loved endlessly, were so sure of bartering you away to a man like Coriolanus Snow caused a dull ache in your chest.
It seemed hard to breathe through the betrayal, the air thick with deceit and heartbreak. Had you known what your father had been planning, you could have left and found a way to survive without the comfort of your family home.
“What Coriolanus has offered has saved us,” Jericho stood leaning lazily against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He stared at you, his little sister who would have died before leaving him to such a fate. “Just think about it! Would you rather him send our entire family to the fucking Districts or have us hanged? I fucked up. I know, and I’m sorry but this is the only option we have.”
There was a tense silence. Jericho had ruined everything with no chance of repair and it was you who had to pay the price. You knew what happened to rebel sympathisers and Jericho had damned the future of your family. What was happening in the Districts was wrong, you agreed with that but there was something inherently stupid about putting the people you cared about at risk just to send a few thousand dollars to some hopeless rebels.
You blinked as you tried to make sense of it all. “Explain it to me. I don’t understand.”
“Coriolanus is not only my friend but he’s just become President,” Jericho said. “We made a deal. This is part of it. Pay off my mistakes with hard work and time. You have no clue how generous that is.”
Friend? Generous? You would have laughed if you could. You briefly wondered what the other part of their deal was but didn’t focus on it for long. It would be of no use to ask a question you would get no answer to.
“All he wants is something to hold over your damn head, Jericho. Paying off your mistakes with my work? Making his bed and wiping his ass is not going to fix what you did. People have been executed for far less.”
Your father cleared his throat. “It’s our only option. We have no money and a ruined reputation. The family name holds the last of our power and without that little power we have left, your brother and I would lose our jobs. It’s a miracle we haven’t already.”
“Coriolanus wants to dangle you over our heads? Fine. If that’s what it takes for him to spare our lives.” Jericho’s voice was so rough. It was the first time he’d been anything other than gentle towards you and you felt a heaviness at the sight of him so distressed.
There was not much left for you outside of the empty empire that your father’s father had built for your family. At least you still had each other and despite the situation they’ve forced you into at the end of the day, you all loved each other to death. It would have been a death sentence but you could have left instead, could have found a life for yourself somehow. But how could you live with yourself knowing that you’d damned those you love because of your pride?
So reluctantly and tearfully, you nod your head and silently agree.
Coriolanus wondered whether he was making the right decision by giving Jericho a second chance. If it were anyone else, he’d have had them hung without a second thought. Hell, he’d even had Sejanus executed at the end of his time in District 12. But Jericho and his family were different.
If there was one person in his life that Coriolanus could call a friend, it was Jericho. It wasn’t that Coriolanus trusted him, no. There was not a soul in this world that Coriolanus could truly trust, not even Jericho who had been by his side for the entirety of his life. It was a moment of weakness, an inexcusable lapse in his judgment to make that deal with him.
But it was also a moment of selfishness and a decision made with nothing more than foolish curiosity. You had always been there, in the back of the picture and unnoticed by everyone apart from him. There was not a person in this world who infuriated him more than you and the two of you had spent years bickering and pestering one another. Charming, intelligent Coriolanus Snow who had the entirety of the Capitol wrapped around his finger had always been instinctively cruel to you. He was never your friend. While he had never actually done you wrong before now, you were never really fooled by his deceiving charm.
Coriolanus was now twenty three but when it came to whatever distorted plot he was planning, he felt juvenile. You were the perfect leverage. Your brother and your father were the perfect pawns. As much as he convinced himself that having you in his possession would mean he would have invaluable power over Jericho to do exactly as he wanted within his twisted court, the idea of having you in the palm of his hand and under his control was exciting.
He was never one for meaningless entertainment. But what was the harm in indulging himself this once?
You had changed since the last time he’d seen you. It had only been two years but he would never admit to his surprise at just how different you had become from the cowering little girl he remembered you to be.
Coriolanus’ office was as big as your dining room back home but you felt claustrophobic under his gaze. His eyes were hellfire as he silently stared at you, leaning back in his chair and resting his fingers under his chin. There was little you could do but stare back at him, anxiously tapping your foot on the marbled floor.
Shakily, you broke the silence. “Why am I here, Coriolanus?”
“Your brother has committed a crime,” He drawled, fingers tapping on the rich mahogany desk in front of him. “That’s why you’re here.”
“You know what I mean, asshole.” You scowled at him. It wasn’t smart to talk to him in such a way, you knew that. He is President, after all. The memory of your brother’s warning to be careful flashed briefly in your mind.
Eyes narrowed, Corialanus considered putting you in your place. He wouldn’t tolerate disrespect. Not from anyone let alone you. Instead, he somewhat answered your question. “You’re going to stay here. Do whatever the hell, doesn’t matter.”
In any other instance, Coriolanus would have detested the sight of you gaping at him, stumbling over your words as your wide eyes confidently held his own. You had changed. Or maybe he had just been blind to the perfect curves of your body or the way you looked at him, so submissive yet so stubborn. So tempting.
He’d condemn himself before ever admitting to his thoughts.
“What?”
If he were to be honest, Coriolanus didn’t entirely know himself. But he took pleasure in the way you seethed. “I’ll give you work. But I won’t let you back to that treasonous family of yours until I have what I want from them.”
You could hit him. If he weren’t the king of Panem, you would have. “You’re keeping me prisoner?”
“No,” he stood from the table and in two strides, he was in front of you. So close that you could smell his cologne mixing with the smell of laundry detergent on his clothes. You shuddered. “Maybe. Call it what you want. You can do what you want, eat what you want, wear what you want, you can visit home on the weekend. I don’t care. But when I give you a task, you will do it.”
Coriolanus’ eyes were an icy blue inferno as they held yours. The light hit his painfully perfect face so that it almost seemed as if he were shining. Struggling not to lose your breath, not to lean into him and feel him, you held your head high. “Fuck you.”
A gasp fell from your lips as Coriolanus’ hand found the back of your head in an instant, fingers weaving into your hair gently before closing into a tight fist and pulling back so that you were forced to look up at him. The tightness of his grip on your hair ached and left you dizzy, longing for his hands to find more of you with the same fervour. Suddenly, you were burning from head to toe, a fire setting on your skin as he held you roughly against him, so close that you felt the feather light tickle of his breath when he spoke.
“Is that how you talk to your superior?” Coriolanus’ voice was low, dripping with a dominance that commanded respect. He was devastatingly beautiful. The curve of his nose, the strength in his jaw, the soft fall of his hair and the soft shine on his lips that you so badly yearned to feel. You cursed yourself for thinking such a thing. “This is my house. My country. You are here because I said so, because I own everything. Everything. Including you. You’d do well to remember your fucking place while you’re here, pretty thing.”
The fire in your blood was rage. It was anger, it had to be. Despite your better judgment, you whispered once again, “Fuck. You.”
His jaw ticked and with a strong yank, you were flush against him. The pounding of your heart was violent and you were sure he could feel it against his chest but you were stuck under his burning gaze. Coriolanus was angry. And you couldn’t help but think that it suited him.
Coriolanus was strong and hard against your body, tense as he held you so intimately yet so roughly.
Fuck, you couldn’t even think. What was happening?
“Corio-”
“Quiet,” Coriolanus commanded. His deep voice, raspy with lust and with rage sent shockwaves down your spine. “Fuck me, huh? I could have you begging on your knees, crying for my cock all day and all night and you would never deserve it. Be careful, angel, because I can ruin you.”
Another gasp fell from your lips and Coriolanus took pleasure in the way you squirmed against him, thighs pressing together as you felt the flush of his words through your body. So reactive. Somehow, you fit perfectly against him, so that he could feel every little tremor he caused in your body, every goosebump that he placed on your skin. His eyes never left yours, his resolve solid as iron.
Your mouth watered at the thought of all the things Coriolanus could do to you. Thoughts you had never imagined having, especially not for him. It overwhelmed you - he overwhelmed you. But all you had to do was glance at the file on his desk, the file with your surname plastered onto the front and you were shoving him off of you.
The rise and fall of your chest was heavy and you had the sudden urge to punch the sultry smirk right off of Coriolanus’ face. That was not okay. Right now, you didn’t even want to think about the way your body reacted to his, they way you would have let him have his way with you right there and then.
“Just-just what the hell am I doing here, Snow?”
Coriolanus swallowed. He didn’t have an answer that he could share with you even if he wanted to give you one. “Making up for the sins of your family. Do not make me repeat myself again.”
“Fine. But-”
“That’s enough,” Coriolanus firmly stated. He turned his back to you, flexing his hands that were curled into fists at his sides. “Candice will show you where you will be staying. I’ll find you when you’re needed.”
#AHHHHHHH#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow x you#the hunger games#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow fic#tbosas#tom blyth#the hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus snow angst#smut#coriolanus snow#🥀#📝
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Sexy mama
« Would love one where y/n gets annoyed because Harry won’t have sex because she’s pregnant »
A/N: feel free to send in writing ideas for little stories you wanna read on here 💖 x
masterlist
“Are you mad?” Harry rose both eyebrows, watching you move around the kitchen while he stood at the entrance, his shoulder against the doorframe. His eyes were scanning your every move, trying to learn and decode the situation he himself got trapped in a few minutes back. “Love…, c’mon,” he softly called, voice calm but beseeching. He took a step forward, his sock-covered feet now on the the cold tile of your kitchen space.
You didn’t turn to him or react to his words. You acted as if his presence couldn’t be felt, when in reality every part of your body heated right away whenever he was around. Didn’t matter if you were pissed at him and wanted to make him sleep on the couch that night; your body always ignited whenever he was in sight.
Specially these days, when your hormones were hectic…, over the roof. You just couldn’t manage them, and the only thing, the only person who could put them to rest refused to help.
Harry sighed, seeing as you weren’t addressing him at all. “Silence treatment? Is that what I get?”
He then felt brave enough to take another step in your direction, head tilting to the side to try see your countenance and read the emotions spread all over it. But nothing. You had that stoic face that blocked your thoughts and feeling from being perceived by anyone else. And he hated it. Hated not being able to decode you and find out what was going on inside your head.
The room went quiet again, the crunch of the knife as you chopped vegetables being the only sound. And it started to drive him crazy. Chop after chop after chop he became more anxious and worried.
As if there wasn’t any sign before, now it was even more clear you were annoyed by his previous actions.
He passed a hand through his curls, tugging slightly at them to relieve some tension. His eyes scanned you once again before breaking the space between your bodies and walking over to you. He stopped right in front of you, his hips resting against the countertop next to where you were dinner prepping, his arms loosely crossed over his chest.
“Y/N…”
“No,” you warned him before he could go on, eyes never leaving the food in front of you. “If you think I look fat and unattractive right now you can just say it, you know? No need to bullshit me like that.”
You spat the words like venom, like they had been resting in you tongue for sometime now before you had the courage to finally spill them out.
“Hey. Hold on,” Harry reacted, brows pinched together as the frown in his forehead grew stronger. “None of that, Y/N. What the fuck? How can you even suggest that?”
He ventured forward, forcing himself in your line of vision. “Look at me,” he asked, resting a hand over the one you were using to cut the food, wanting you to stop and focus solely on him, “Where’s all this coming from? You can’t just say it and keep on like nothing happened. Talk to me. What’s going on right now?”
Your lip trembled, and you blinked three times as soon as you felt water in your eyes. Your facade fell down completely. You no longer could keep your feelings hidden, in place.
You took a deep breath before looking up at him, his eyes worriedly scanning your features the moment you allowed him to.
“You think I don’t notice?,” you mumbled, “You think I don’t know I look nothing like I did seven months ago?”
His frown accentuated in more confusion.
“You’re pregnant, Y/N,” he stated matter of fact, bringing his hand to your cheek and caressing it, capturing with his thumb the tear that escaped from the corner of your eye. “You’re growing a human being inside you. That’s our baby right there, mama.”
His free hand went to rest on your belly, sweetly stroking it over his t-shirt. Your clothes didn’t fit anymore, so you borrowed his to walk around comfortably. And he didn’t mind. Didn’t mind back then when you wore them just because you wanted to feel him close, and didn’t mind now that it was the only thing that fitted the body of the woman he loved the most.
In fact, he’d never mind. There was nothing as sexy as seeing you in his clothes.
“I know,” you gulped, trying to swallow your need to cry, “But I don’t feel like myself at all. I can’t recognise my body anymore, and the hormones aren’t helping. One second I’m a crying mess and the next a horny teenager. And you don’t even wanna touch me, Harry.”
He felt his heart clenching at your raw confession; at your now no longer hidden insecurities you’d managed to keep to yourself for God knows how long.
“Is that what this is about?,” his voice low as he spoke every word carefully, “I made you feel like that? You think I’m not attracted to you anymore because you’re pregnant? Fuck, no, Y/N. Never.”
“Then?,” you whispered. If you spoke any louder you feared your voice would tremble and you’d break down in front of him. Not that he hadn’t seeing you like that before, but you felt overwhelmed enough and didn’t want to add more fuel to the already existing pile of bitter emotions burning inside you.
Your gaze fell down to the floor, but couldn’t even see it because of the size of your belly. It had gotten so big in the last few weeks you couldn’t put shoes on by yourself. God, you couldn’t even get up from the bed without a helping hand.
Harry cupped your face between his hands, thumbs purposely rubbing your cheeks in tender, sweet strokes. “Listen to me, mama. Pregnant or not, you’re sexy as fuck.” His eyes searched for yours, anxiously wanting for you to believe him. Pleading you to take his words and engrave them in your brain forever. “If I’ve been avoiding you in that sense is only because I don’t wanna hurt you. I’m scared I’m gonna make a wrong move and hurt any of you. I know you’ve been in a lot of physical pain lately and I don’t wanna cause you more, love. That’s all. It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you, I swear. Pregnant or not you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
His words flew out of his lips hurriedly, as if he was fighting against your mind to see what words you would hang onto first. What words you’d end up believing: your husband’s or those of your treacherous subconscious.
You bit hard the inside of your cheek as you looked up to the ceiling internally begging your tears to evaporate. They were already stinging your eyes, and soon enough ran down your cheeks without your permission, soaking your cheeks and Harry’s fingers.
“Ah, shit. The goddamn hormones,” you groaned in between quiet sobs.
Your husband let out a soft chuckle, his eyes glistening in adoration for you, “C’mere…”
He pulled you to him after drying your tears off with his fingertips, your body resting in between his parted legs while his hands entwined in your back to keep you glued to him. He rested his forehead against yours, and you closed your eyes allowing yourself to embrace the peace he always transmitted you.
“I love you,” Harry reminded you.
“I love you more.”
“Nuh.”
You giggled. “But it’s only fair. There are two hearts inside of me right now, both of them beating with love for you.”
The corners of his mouth widen to form the biggest smile, his dimples and bunny teeth showing, his eyes sparkling happily.
And then it clicked. You understood everything you both wanted and needed was right there.
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#harry styles#harry styles imagine#short story#harry styles imagines#harry styles prompts#harry styles stories#harrystyles#hsgucci94#hsgucci94 stories#harry styles x reader#harry styles and reader#harry styles concept#harry styles angsty
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u have absolutely no idea what 'coffee caramels' did to me omg 😭 u write spencer and his mannerisms so WELL hsbsghdbdh so i come to u with a lil request if that's okay with u !!
spencer insists on playing pretend-doctor for reader who's sick (but denying it) so he invokes his technically-a-doctor card and gives his second opinion just to take care of reader n smother them w looooove
essentially just him teasing y/n and being the stupid Cute attentive nerd he is <3
(inspired by S5E3 where he gets stuck at the bau w garcia bc he was being stubborn abt his injury)
i am never ever Normal abt this guy 😞 i look forward to reading more of ur work and losing my mind over reid with u, aine !! mwa
hiii tysm for requesting, youre so fucking sweet!! <33 drop an emoji to let me know who you are and let’s loose our mind over our fav boy together anon!!!! also sorry this took so long, i wrote like 3k but then hated it so i started over, i love this prompt sm so i feel like i had to do it justice.
pspspsp i love s5 spence so fucking much... his hair went from beautiful to ethereal to mad sexy...s5 treated us well. requests are ALWAYS appreciated !!!!!!
soup. spencer reid
spencer reid x fem!reader, 3k
you've been off it for so long, dodging virus after virus and disease after disease and just right when you thought that you are immune to sickness, you caught it. the inevitable fever.
there was no denying it, you've tried. after getting a headache, you popped a tylenol before you went to sleep, nonchalant. the next morning was when reality really came crashing down. a sore throat.
it progressively got worse throughout the day, and when you came crashing into bed after a long day at work, your nose was feeling stuffy and your were coughing, spewing sickness everywhere you went. you woke up in the middle of night sweating like you had just ran a fucking marathon and only able to breathe through one nostril unless you shift your body entirely.
you did not take to these news well. firmly in denial, you still planned to show up to work the next day.
except you didn't show up to work. sickly and delirious, the part when you press snooze then snooze again slip your mind and at one point you must've turn off your alarm entirely. drifting in and out of consciousness and slipping into dream after dream, it gets harder to tell what is real and what is not.
"y/n? y/n!"
now, it is very probable that the voice isn’t actually real, because why the hell would you be hearing spencer reid’s voice outside of work? the chances are slim to none, and despite the heat pounding at your skull you manage to smile. there is something unexplainably comforting about spencer’s voice, soft and deliberate. it would be foolish to say that under the mad spell he’d cast on you (him simply saying two words) he’s managed to melt away your headache, because he didn’t. you still feel like shit.
“y/n?”
you frown, the voice sounding too insistent and real and not matching up with the visuals of your dream. you feel a tapping on your shoulder and when you blink your eyes open you could’ve screamed.
you jump up and then backwards, huddling your blanket with you, scared for your life. because right in front of you is perhaps the most intimidating creature on the earth; spencer reid in a purple sweater vest with his face so close to yours he could breathe in your sickness, hair tucked carefully behind his ear.
“spencer?” you ask incredulously, but instead your voice comes out a rasp. you clear your throat, feeling something warm creep up your cheek. it might be a blush, but you blame it on the chills. you keep blinking, trying to regain your vision and feel instantaneous embarrassment. you look a mess, sick and dehydrated with dry lips and bad hair and you probably reek of morning breath. and spencer’s there, looking like heaven’s finest angel, smiling at you like he’s smiling at a person and not a monster. spencer has the tendency to treat and look at everyone like they’re the love of his life. you sort of hate it.
“hi y/n,” he breathes, crouching down on the floor before you on the bed. “i—“
“what are you doing here?” you’re too impatient to wait, still in shock.
now. you try not to make it obvious that you have a mad crush on spencer, because if the fact were to spill, you’re not eager cleaning up the consequences. it’s an unestablished, unspoken rule that should be common sense that no workplace dating will be allowed and usually it’s a ridiculous rule, because who the hell would want to date their coworker, like actually? work crushes are normal but they exist only in a part of your day, an eye-candy for you to stare at to get through the day, then you go home or go out and forget about them. who actually has serious work crushes, actually? actually? it’s ridiculous.
your defense is completely solid, you’d say. your number one defense is you can’t help the fact that you and spencer were meant to be friends. the moment you joined the team, you and spencer clicked together like two lego pieces, despite your clashing personalities. you find it refreshing to have someone like spencer, someone who’s soft and sweet but cunning and resourceful but thoughtful and kind, and it was equally refreshing for spencer to have someone blunt and straightforward but still patient enough to put up with him.
spencer doesn’t like physical touch but ever since your first week he made you the exception and if you could, you would parade the privilege around like a badge. what can you say, you’re proud to be spencer’s little exception, anyone would be. he makes you feel special, differently than the others do and what’s a girl to do? to have that great of a relationship with a coworker and not be work spouses and not be actually head over heels with the guy? how laughable.
it’s not something you’re proud of, however. you know it’s a lost cause, chasing after spencer. it hurts, sometimes, but you always patted yourself on the back with an ‘it is what it is.’ spencer, as sweet and vulnerable as he is, has layers behind his thinly veiled heart. he talks a lot but he never talks about himself and he never talks about the past so he doesn’t have to revive it, so all the memories are just wounds left out and neglected to burn. spencer’s trouble, definitely trouble, but it’s hard to be aware of the workload that spencer reid is when he’s rambling to you about something as innocent as halloween or knocking his knuckles on your knee during a flight trying to get your attention.
spencer blinks sheepishly, settling criss cross apple sauce on the ground, lanky legs twisting uncomfortably. “you didn’t come into work and you didn’t answer your phone,” he explains. “emily told me to go check on you.”
you nod. he’s here because emily told him to. it makes a lot more sense now. “i’ll head in the office now,” you say, making your way out of bed, wiping at your eyes. “sorry—“
“no you’re not,” spencer says immediately, not even hesitating. he places a hand on your upper chest, pressing you back down on the bed. the butterflies at the pit of your stomach throws a fit. you know he means nothing by the action—has spencer reid ever been the one knowledgeable about romance?—but knowing that doesn’t help the heat that spread up your cheeks that’s definitely not from the sickness. “you’re burning up,” he says. “i’ll get you some water. you should clean up,” he says, uncrossing his legs difficultly and then stumbling out the room, mismatched socks slipping on the hardwood floor.
you take advantage of the time that spencer’s not there and race to the bathroom, ignoring the blackout and the dizziness that threatens to make you faint from getting up too abruptly. you squirt some toothpaste onto your toothbrush and by the time you exit the bathroom, spencer is already there, waiting, except he’s by your desk, hands on a book.
typical.
he perks up when he hears your footsteps pad into the room, turning around, looking like a child who’s been caught with your book in his hands. you smile at him, albeit it’s a pathetic smile. you feel dizzy.
“you like toni morrison?”
“i love toni morrison,” spencer chirps, excitement bouncing all over his face. “especially her masterwork, beloved,” he looks back down at your red copy admiringly then sets it down. "get back in bed," he says, and you can't wrap your hand around how ridiculous the situation is. your coworker, or work crush, is at your house, checking your temperature and shooing you to bed to rest. "i bought you soup so you can eat up, i--"
“you bought me soup?” you ask, incredulous. spencer nods seriously.
“it's proven that eating soup makes people feel better, not just some stereotype. the right amount of sodium can help help relieve sore throat pains and the vitamins and minerals found in soup can play a very large part in recovery...i had a feeling you were going to be sick, it’s the weather, you know? everyone is catching the cold. you need to eat it before it gets cold, the heat helps with nasal digestion and also sinus pressure and it'll be useless if you ate it lukewarm...i’ll be right back…” and with the babbling his voice fades out as he walks back out to the living room, leaving you alone standing on the side of your bed. you look at the forgotten copy of beloved set carefully back onto your desk, smiling to yourself slightly before climbing back into bed, because spencer says so and spencer’s always right but mostly because your legs feel like they’re going to give out.
spencer is speedy, striding several steps at once with his ridiculously long legs that looks unnaturally lanky but once he reaches your room again, soup and spoon in hand you were already nodding off, head lolling and eyes slipping shut. spencer stops at your bed stand, thinking to himself for a second before balancing the plastic bowl of soup on one hand and using the other to gently nudge at your face, waking you up. he grimaces when he feels that your skin burns to the touch, a bright tint to your cheeks that he hates himself for liking because you're sick, he shouldn't be thinking that you're pretty or stuff like that.
spencer waves the thought away, determined to focus on his mission. deliver soup, make sure you're okay, and send his farewells. that's what emily told him to do, and even though derek added a "kiss her goodnight too, loverboy!" he's only going to listen to emily, because emily knows best.
yes. perfect. that's exactly what he's going to do.
"hey," he whispers, caressing his thumb across the lightly purple patch under your eye, frowning to himself. you haven't been getting good enough sleep, and he feels guiltier for waking you up, but then straightens himself up resolutely--no. emily said the soup must be delivered and consumed--just to melt again when your eyes flutter open, confused and traces of sleep still floating around your facial expression. "sorry," he mumbles, feeling oddly embarrassed. "it's just--i mean, you don't have to, jus' want you to eat something before you sleep again."
you sit up slowly, and once you're fully awake again, the smell of the soup hits you like a bucket of ice and you suddenly feel your mouth watering. you feel like a princess, sitting there with your hands crossed in your lap while you wait for spencer to unwrap the plastic utensils and tissues from its clear packaging, carefully opening up the lid of the soup on the night stand and hot steam floats around the room, engulfing both you and spencer in a bubble of tomato soup.
spencer, a planner that he is, didn't let you eat directly from the plastic take-out bowl from the restaurant and had rummaged through your kitchen for a bowl and pours half the soup into the ceramic, no spillage and perfectly clean. then he hands the soup to you, and you eat.
to say that spencer is concerned is to say the least. you're a profiler, and you're trained to pick up on this sort of thing but you only need to be a child with an undeveloped brain to work out that spencer's worried, watching your every move and monitoring that you eat enough, the crease in his brows deepen whenever you set the bowl down so you pick it up again and stuff two more spoonfuls in your mouth, to hopefully make him worry less.
the silence is awkward, the only sounds in the room is you biting down on the spoon occasionally as you drink your soup and spencer watching intently, hands on his chin and unaware of his staring problem. you and spencer rarely has these kind of silences, the silences where you scramble for things to say because the atmosphere would always be too comfortable. you sneak glances at him as you eat. since spencer's completely oblivious to the heaviness of the silence, you feel it's up to you to break it.
"i'll clock in once i'm finish eating this, don't worry," you say, trying your best to sound reassuring as you try to choke back a spoonful of soup too big. you lick your lips, and spencer is biting his, a bad habit.
"no you're not, y/n," he says, exasperated. normally, when spencer uses his 'i'm right so you should listen to me' tone like this, it means he's geared for an argument and you would be happy to challenge him, but now you can't find the energy for it. yet you muster enough up anyway.
"i'm only a bit shaken up 'cause of the weather," you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible, still in the calm before the storm of the bicker. "'m not immobile. and i already used up all my off days visiting my family--"
spencer, however, didn't bother for the peaceful offering. "you're not coming in today, y/n," he says, and he sounds a bit anxious but you know his true intent. his eyes are mirthful with confidence, and he knows he's already won the argument. despite the buzzing in your ears and the fuzziness in your brain, you can't let the bastard win. you can't.
“i can’t miss anymore days spencer, and i won’t,” you say coldly, but you slurping on the soup hungrily like it’s your last day on earth sort of ruined your cool facade. “i’m not too sick, either, it’ll be useless for me to stay home—“
spencer reaches to press his palm against your forehead, his skin cold to the touch. you close your eyes instinctively.
“you’re burning up,” he announces. “means your sick. you’re not coming in today, y/n.”
“says who?” you say defensively, feeling a bit like you’re loosing.
“says me,” spencer says cooly, cheeky smile at his lips. you should hate it more than you do. “who’s a doctor.”
you scoff. “so now you’re an actual doctor? you got a medical phd on you?”
“i have a bachelor in medicine and enough doctorates to make me slightly knowledgeable in every field,” spencer quips and you didn’t even know that he had a bachelor in medicine. how many fucking degrees does this guy even have on his resume?
“whatever,” you grumble, sounding a lot like someone who’s just got defeated. you set the bowl of soup down on the nightstand and spencer hands you a bottled water before you could think about needing water. you pluck it from his offering hands, muttering a “thanks” under your breath.
spencer laughs quietly, watching you drink patiently and putting the cap back on when you hand him back the bottle, setting it next to your soup. you feel ridiculously babied and your cheeks burn with the guilt you feel. you’re talking him off his office hours just to be here and feed you stuff and make sure you’re taking care of yourself.
spencer, the 24/7 profiler, notices. "is something wrong?" he asks innocently, round eyes blinking and oblivious. bless him. "you got redder. is it too hot? i can adjust the a/c."
“fine,” you mumble, still a little embarrassed with your realization. “little cold, actually.”
“it's the chills from your fever,” spencer informs you. “i…” he pauses, frowning again, frustrated from not being able to finish his thought. he abandons it. “do you need anything else?”
“no spence,” you laugh sort of pathetically, throat strained. “you’ve been an angel already. you can go back to the office, if you want.”
spencer thinks back to what emily had told him. soup. make sure she’s ok. leave. he’s done the past two steps. it’s time he completes his mission.
but…
“are you sure?” he prods, a little bit of him hoping that you'd say no. he doesn't know what it is; something bothering him, making him dread leaving.
you didn't get the cue. "mhmm," you shoot him a reassuring smile. as reassuring as you can manage, anyway, grimacing at the insistent throb in your head. spencer gnaws on his bottom lip, indecisive. you don't know what he was deciding between.
whatever battle it was, he wraps it up quick. "okay," he repeats. "i'll get back."
"you do that."
"remember to drink water."
"i will."
"do you need me to bring you more?"
"i'm okay."
"okay."
"okay."
the conversation feels incomplete and spencer isn't interested to complete it, booting out the door, except he lingers for a bit and awkwardly turns around, hand on the frame. you are already looking at him when he looks at you.
you and spencer are never this awkward, never this hesitant and strange. the tension that suffocates your room feels like signature first-date-tension, the kind of nervous excitement and tip-toeing blind lovers and uncertainty.
"are you sure?"
i'd rather you stay. you push the response away. "i am."
"you have medicine right?"
you do have medicine. for a brief moment, you want to lie about it; want to say that you ran out this morning and then he would run to the store for you and return and then spend more time in your insufferable, sickly presence. you brush the thought away within a second. never in a million years do you want to bother spencer, especially not with a thing as selfish as that. maybe it's because of your biased vision but spencer is looking like he's desperate to leave, practically screaming for outlet at the door. it's time you let him go and indulge in the worst sleep you'll ever have.
"yeah," you say, clearing your throat. "i do."
"okay," spencer says. "i'll go."
"thanks," you add awkwardly. "for the soup. and for coming."
"'course" spencer says absentmindedly, lingering at the door frame but not looking at you in particular, not looking at anything. he snaps back and sends you a wave. spencer has a power to him where everything he does looks unplanned, like he's doing it against his own will.
he leaves. if you had change your mind and ask for him to come back, for him to stay, he would've. no hesitation. but you didn't, and he wiggles back in his broken in converses and return back to the bau with no elevator partner.
maybe another day.
a/n: sorry for the ending, this was getting too long so i had to cut it short 😓😓but i think it's kinda fitting! lmk if you guys want a part 2 <3
#spencer reid#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds#criminal minds fandom#matthew gray gubler#mgg#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid angst#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fluff#my works
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a misfortune | (mechanic!harry part 1)
Okay, so here is my version of the grumpy!harry x sunshine!yn trope. I had midterms so this got a bit late! Sorry! I don't rhink you waited for my shitty writing, but here it is (forcefully)
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Summary: Harry is a grumpy asshole, but he is also a mechanic that you are in desperate need of. Sunshine!reader x Grumpy! harry trope
Word Count: ~2k
8 hours.
That's how long you've been in the backseat of your car, and chewing on your already swollen nails. All your belongings, from clothes to your oversized makeup bag, toiletries, blankets, bedsheets, and even your electronic gadgets, are crammed beside you on the backseat. Your life has spiraled into chaos because your landlord has kicked you out.
Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you recall the moments that have led you to this bleak situation. It isn't fair, which is something you think. That isn't true though. You haven't paid your proper rent in nearly six months, frequently stumbling home at obnoxious hours, blasting loud music when you were drunk and high, and you hadn't even bothered to check the 15-day eviction notice that arrived almost 20 days ago. So, yes, your landlord had every right to kick you out.
You were irresponsible, reckless, and didn't give two cares until you became homeless. With your car serving as an unwelcome shelter, you realize you should have been more responsible. You should have cared more about your living situation before it all came crashing down on you. If only you had taken your life more seriously, you wouldn't be stuck in your car on this cold, lonely night.
It was the beginning of November, and you had so many plans about decorating your small apartment. You had fetched out the Christmas lights too, planning on hanging them out the following weekend. The memory of those festive plans, the warmth of the holiday spirit, now feels like a distant dream.
You wipe away your tears, but they keep flowing. You shift some of your stuff down on the floor of the car to make some space to sleep in. You curl up into yourself in the small space, and after a few more tears, you're finally asleep.
You're woken by harsh knocks on your window. You try to open your eyes, but the sunlight pouring in through the window is so blinding that you have to squint and shield your face with your hand.
It's a man, who looks angry at you. You roll down the window a bit so you can hear what he's saying.
“Could you move your car out of here, please?”
You rub your eyes and finally get a look at your surroundings, and you see that you've basically parked at the entrance of a house.
“Yeah-yeah. I will. Sorry,” you grunt with a raspy voice, and he goes back inside.
You quickly fix your clothes and your hair, and grabbed the car keys from your pocket. Opening the door, you got out of the backseat and got back out front.
Pushing the key in, you turned it, but the engine didn’t start. You tried it again and again, biut all in vain.
Great.
Just fucking great.
Now even your car had given up on you.
You felt like crying all over again, this was all so heartbreaking. You had to get the car checked almost two months ago, when the check engine light had started to blink first.
You pulled out your phone and searched for a nearby garage. Hopefully, there was one that was 2 blocks away. But that meant you wouyld have to push your car two blocks.
You could also call a tow service, but that would take money, and money was something you were running short on.
With a loud sigh, you switched the handbrake on, and got out of the car.
Rolling up your sleeves, you started to push it. The car was so heavy, and you managed a good 200 meters, before you were sweating profusely, and almost gave up, putting your hands on your knees and breathing loudly.
A kind man offered to help, and thank lord he did. With lots of struggle and a good 15 minutes, you were finally able to reach the garage.
Quick Fix Auto
You read the garage name, before lockiong your car and walking in. It was still 8 pm, so you doubted getting any help at this hour.
“Hello?”
You called out tentatively as you entered the garage and walked further into the shop, past the cars and vehicles scattered out front. Hopefully, a second voice would call you back, or you would have had to wait for someone to come in.
“Yeah, I’m a bit busy. Be out in a minute,” the voice replied. It sounded British and thickly laced with an accent. You couldn't help but think that now a gorgeous British guy would see your horrible car, which was also your home, all wrecked up and messed up due to negligence. Bonus points to you for not even washing your face after waking up.
You briefly contemplated running away and finding another garage with an old mechanic. However, you realized you physically wouldn't have been able to do that. So, you took a deep breath, preparing to face the embarrassment and potential humiliation.
After a few moments, he came out, and boy, was he gorgeous. A white headband held his thick hair back, and below that was a beautifully shaped face with green eyes. His tan hands were covered in a bit of grease, and he had tools hanging from his upturned waistband.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, and you gulped hard, snapping back to reality from admiring his physique. Boy, was he pretty.
“Oh, um... I tried to start my car this morning, but it won’t start.”
“And what’s the issue? The battery is out, fuel is down?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I came here.”
“Jeez, your breath smells terrible. Alright, let me have a look at it. Keys?”
He extended his hand to take your keys while looking into your eyes. You squinted at him for his rude remark, then handed him the keys.
“You don’t have to be so rude, you know.”
He kept walking, ignoring your comment. As he reached your car, he stopped in his tracks when he saw your belongings inside it. He turned back to look at you, and you frowned. Eye bags, dark circles under your eyes, a sad face, and you hadn't even washed your face; you had to rush to get your car fixed. You were in bad shape.
He decided to draw a line and not throw questions at you. He opened your car and took a look inside, noticing that the check engine light was on.
“How long has this been on for?”
“Oh, that. Yeah, about... 2 months?”
He slumped his shoulders and came back out, walking to yhe front and opening the hood of the car. As soon as it went up, a big cloud of smoke escaped.
“Fuck. What did you do?”
He coughed a bit, taking a step back to let the smoke dissipate. You felt even more humiliated than before, but he seemed more focused on the issue with your car than making further remarks about your condition.
“Alright. So, this is not going to get fixed in a short while. It’s going to take atlest 2 days.”
“No! Where will I live?”
You exclaimed loudly, and his eyes widened.
You could book a hotel?”
“I don’t have money.”
“A motel?”
“How will I reach one? Most of them are out of town.”
“Right, so you could still sleep in it at night, but I lock the garage at 11. So, you will have to park it outside.”
She nodded her head, and he still felt bad for her.
“I’m Harry, by the way”
He extended the same grease-stained hand again, and she complied, shaking hands with him.
"I'm Yn." she said.
"There’s a bathroom at the back. You can clean up there if you want to. My staff comes in at 9, so you still have about half an hour."
She smiled at his kind offer. He might be rude and grumpy, but he wasn't a bad person.
"Thank you, Harry. I really appreciate it."
"Oh that's okay. But, you do have money to pay for your car, right?"
You did a quick calculation in your mind, and quickly came to the conclusion that you didn't have even that money.
"No, but- listen to me! My payday is here, so I'm gonna get paid soon. I have to buy few supplies first, and then I promise I will pay you as soon as possible. I'll borrow money from my friends."
"As long as I get paid, I don't care where you get the money from."
And the grumpiness was back.
"Okay! Can I go in?"
"Sure. Be my guest."
You got some stuff from the car and went inside the garage. walking all the way to the back, and finding the washroom. You locked the door and cleaned yourself up.
Meanwhile, Harry took a look at your car.
It was in a bad condition. it hadn't been serviced in over two years, and the engine oil hadn't been replaced in so long. The battery was old too. A lot of work had to be done. and he had no idea how he would manage when you literally lived in the car.
Meanwhile, you were happy to have gotten a place to brush and bathe. Initially, you thought you would have to go to a cafe or restaurant, and brushing and bathing there would’ve been embarrassing. Even though embarrassment and humiliation were your best friends now.
You walked out in clean clothes a while later. and saw your car standing at the same place, with no sign of Harry. You searched for him again, and found him at the back, working on the same car he had been in when you had arrived.
"Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Why aren't you working on my car?"
He slid out from the bottom of the car, before replying, "I have other jobs too. First come, first serve. Plus, this one paid me in advance."
You frowned and flared at his words, and decided to deal with him later.
"So, can I take it, then? I have to go to work."
"No, I will work on it in the afternoon."
"Then how the hell am I supposed to reach work?"
"Many options, by foot, take the bus, order an Uber, Oh! Sorry! I forgot you didn't have money."
He mocked you once again, and this time, you seriously wanted to punch him across the face. Maybe you would, once your car was done. But right now, you have priorities.
"Alright, fine. But my stuff is in the car."
"Chill. Nobody's gonna take it. They might give things to you, though."
You rolled your eyes again, and went back to your car. Why did he have to be such a dick?
Gathering your bag, you stuffed your valuables, leaving only clothes and heavy articles behind. You shifted it to one corner, and draped a huge sheet to cover it.
"Okay, I'm leaving."
And once again, that grumpy asshole ignored you.
(next part)
divider by @firefly-graphics
okay, sorry if this sucked, i really don't know how to write l literally finished this at 2am, so really really sorry
taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @whoreonmondays @avalentina
let me know if you want to be added or removed!
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles smut#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fic#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#harry styles x you#harry styles writing#harry edward styles#harrystyles#harry#harry fic#harry fanfiction#harry fluff#harry styles au#mechanic!harry#mechanic au#mechanic!harry styles#harry styles blurb#harry styles series#harry styles concept#harry styles fic rec#harry styles fan fictions#harry x yn#harry x you#harry x y/n#harry styles x yn#harry styles x y/n
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stopp i need more of gojo w six eyes omg 😭😭😭 that last one was so adorable
# SIX II ‣ GOJO SATORU
✰ — author’s note you ask and i deliver :3 please keep the asks flowin my 2 month break is soon!! i am fortunately very free.. also i think i might make one with husband satoru :7
✰ — cw / tags fiance!satoru , read part 1 first because it makes more sense , gn!reader , swearing , gojo being so pretty you’re literally in a daze LOL , not proofread , sfw as always
✰ — playing endlessly by alina baraz.
✰ — word count 1k
"they need to start a fucking cab service here."
GOJO SATORU, your now fiancé, has been whining for the past half an hour—and as his lover, it is your (unconsented) responsibility to hear all of it. the snowy haired man walking in front of you has his handheld fan out in a futile attempt to cool himself off, and of course it reaps no benefit: it's thirty three degrees, ninety one in fahrenheit. what would a measly fan be able to do?
that's precisely what you say to him, your mood was sour as well; having to listen to your querulous husband-to-be grumble about the weather and the walking distance was taking a toll on you.
"plus. . . who was the one who," you found that talking made you feel hotter, so you tried to refrain from long strings of words. "asked to eat at a restaurant. . ."
you huff. ". . .40 minutes away from the station. . ."
you two were sick of tokyo, and you suppose it's partially your fault as well: you've been pestering him for the past month to visit the countryside to get some fresh air. you thought it would be cooler here, seeing as to how rare cars and buses were to come by—ironically, a car or bus is exactly what you two need at this moment.
at least now, your pool of choices for honeymoon destinations are narrowed—the silver lining that was not so silver amidst the heat, and compared to the amount of walking you had to endure.
"we should've just went to switzerland."
it takes a long while before you two make any turn. the pavement is stretched long and far, and the only buildings you'd come across were tiny houses belonging to the countryfolk.
gojo is walking backwards, ranting to you about what could've been in the swiss alps: on and on about snowball fights with you and napping together on a couch in front of a cozy fire. all of his eyes are looking at you, a pitiful gaze in each pair.
yet, you're still here, in the blistering and merciless heat. there was nothing complaints would change, it’s not like you could teleport.
"well, just book a flight to switzerland yourself, then!" you hiss, looking away from gojo, who seemed so unappreciative of the quality time he’s spending with the alleged love of his life.
your scolding makes him laugh. a smug smile spreads across his face, because he was just kidding: he supposes it's not half bad because you're still here with him.
though, he still thinks it would be better by tenfold if the weather was just a little bit more compassionate.
you don’t realise gojo’s stopped walking and is standing in front of you, as you’re preoccupied with the sulky attitude; you bump into him, almost tripping and falling off the concrete pavement—not before he catches you with quick arms and undeniable strength.
you would’ve fallen face flat onto the road if not for your fiancé instinctively reaching for you, and he’s prepared for an earful when you realise what just happened.
“satoru,” you grit your teeth. he closes his eyes, all six of them, in preparation for the scolding he was going to receive from you. “do you not have anything in that dense skull of yours?“
his arms are firm around your waist and your hat is poking at his chest. you look up at him, realising his eyes are open now—blinking at you ever so slowly, as if asking for pity.
all six of his eyes blink in sync, and you spend a good ten seconds staring at his face. something about the way his eyes glistened in the harsh sunlight and the way his hair frames them perfectly, snowy white hair clashing with the blues of his irises—a trance was what he had you under.
“stop looking at me like that.”
“i thought you liked them.” gojo puts on a pout, and it’s too obvious that he’s fishing for your affection—he might as well just ask you to tell him what he wants to hear.
nevertheless, you spoil satoru; as you have always done and continue to do. you think he’s too used to your cooing and that somebody definitely needs to humble him, but you know that somebody wouldn’t be you.
“i love them, ‘toru.” you say, and his pout disappears as quickly as it came. “i love you.”
the whites of his teeth shine in the sunlight when he hears you say those precious words; it never fails to confuse you, how easy it is to please gojo—except that it isn’t, he was only easy when it came to you.
he takes off your hat and you scowl at the heat that your hat has been shielding you from. gojo presses a kiss onto your forehead, not pulling away even after seconds have passed.
“love you more.”
you scoff. “i’m not getting into that argument with you.”
he finally pulls away and his eyes blink at you again, with that same sulking expression. “so you don’t wanna say it back? do you not love me more, y/n?”, and there goes his comedically unconvincing pout.
you bite the inside of your cheek, attempting to put on the sternest look you can; but you take one more good look at him and it’s utterly useless.
people found it hard to get their ways with you. you were a stubborn person, naturally—standing your ground was something that came easy to you. you wonder why it’s different with satoru, though.
perhaps it was his face, his painstakingly handsome face—but you know it definitely had something to do with the way he looked at you, the way his eyes and gaze made you weak in the knees.
“i love you more.” you give in for the second time, and seeing the smirk on his face form makes you realise you’ve done it again: fallen right into his trap.
the pairs of eyes on his forehead and cheeks shut their eyelids. “no, think i love you more.” satoru declares before planting another kiss, this time on your right cheek. “i know i do.”
such a sly man, you think—you wouldn’t marry anyone else.
221023 — it’s 4am..
#✦ inbox#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru x reader fluff#gojo x reader#gojo fluff#gojo x reader fluff#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#gojo imagines#gojo satoru imagines#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk x reader fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojo imagine#gojo headcanons#gojo satoru
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𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 pt.2
a/n: it's finally here!! how long has it been?! first things first i want to say thank you to everyone who's been rooting for this fic!! I honestly hit a huge writers block and had no motivation to write!! but all the sweet messages from people saying they enjoyed my work has made me so happy!!! SO ONCE AGAIN THANK U AND I HOPE U ENJOY!! I tried my EXTRA HARDEST SO I HOPE THIS GIVES U THE CLOSURE YALL WANTED I LOVE YOU SM! ALSO THIS IS NOT PROOF READ SO PLEASE EXCUSE ANY MISTAKES!! I JUST WANTED TO FINALLY POST FOR U GUYS!!
It took a lot out of you not to stay in bed the next morning. The softness of your bed wrapped around your body gives you some sort of comfort. But of course, staying in bed would only make you feel worse. At least if you got up it would be easier to fake happiness. To no surprise, your phone was flooded with missed calls and texts from both Steven and Belly. Of course, you only responded to belly telling her that you'll explain your reasoning for ditching your "date" with Steven later.
Why did Steven even bother leaving you so many texts last night? If you were such a bother to him? Annoying. That's what he thinks you are. And what if you never heard those disgusting things he said about you? and went on the date with him? Would he just continue to lead you on?
Steven: waiting for you by the pool.
Steven: ur late
Steven: u look pretty even though i can't even see you. pls im starving
Steven: is belly holding you hostage?
Steven: it's been 18 minutes cmon.
Steven: the guys are going to laugh at me for being stood up I'm getting nervous.
Steven: did something happen are you okay?
Steven: belly is worried as well lmk.
You laughed at the messages blinking back angry tears that threatened to fall. Gosh! he was so fake. You could only imagine how relieved he must have been to not hang out with you.
Belly: have funnnn
Belly: no funny business!!
Belly: wait where did you go?!
Belly: Steven keeps pacing back and forth waiting for u
Belly: what’s going on?
Belly: just let us know ur okay
Belly: y/n ??!?!??
Y/n: hey, something came up last night sorry I had you worried. can u come over?
Belly arrived 20 minutes later. You spent the time together watching reruns of your favorite Disney show. “Do you want to talk about it?” Belly asked after a while, noticing something was bothering you.
“I overheard the guys talking about me last night.” You fiddled with the throw blanket that was on your lap. “At first it was just them teasing Steven about our date or whatever.” You took a deep breath upset that you felt like crying. “But Steven only agreed to hang out with me…” You paused blinking back tears. Belly moved closer immediately pulling you into a hug. “He only agreed to hang out with me…so I could stop annoying him! I honestly don’t know what I did wrong?” You pulled away from belly’s arms wiping your tears that had fallen.
“Maybe I was too forward? but I just wanted to see if he felt the same way…it was dumb.” You shrugged. Belly shook her head “Nope my brother is a fucking idiot!” she stood up taking your hand in hers and pulling you up. “I won’t let you mope around all day because of him!” You sighed “I don’t even have a choice do I?” Belly laughed shaking her head. “What do you say we go to the boardwalk? Taylor’s coming in today too” she smirked.
“And maybe someone would be happy to see you I don’t know” she whispered with a grin. “What are you talking about?” You questioned. “Well you know Xavier..the one that works the lemonade stand?” You nodded your head yes. “Well, he totally has the hots for you.” You cringed at her word choice. “He does not!” You laughed. “Oh, he does! you were too busy ogling my brother last summer you didn’t notice him ogling you.” she poked your side teasingly.
“Now let’s go!”
~
“Stay still before I poke your eye out” Taylor groans finishing up your eyeliner. You were now at the Fisher’s beach house getting ready to go down to the boardwalk. You laugh pulling away “I think that’s enough…if you make my eyeliner any thicker I’d cry!” Taylor playfully pushes your head away. “Sorryyyyy i want to make Xavier fall to his knees when he sees you!” You frown when she brings that name up. Sure, Xavier was a nice guy…and he was cute…but he wasn’t Steven.
You’d always imagined Steven being your first everything. First kiss, first date, first time. It was something you’d dreamt of all this time.
“Yeah…im going to get a snack before we head out do y’all want anything?” You ask heading towards the door. Both girls gave you a sympathetic smile shaking their heads no.
As you reached the kitchen you stopped in your tracks. Steven turned from looking into the fridge. You made eye contact for about 5 seconds before you beelined for the cabinets. “Hey,” Steven broke the silence as you pulled out a granola bar. You felt the warmth of his stare and turned finding him now leaning against the counter. “Hey…” you whispered looking anywhere but his face. “So you gonna tell me what happened last night?” Steven crossed his arms around his chest.
“Just didn’t feel up for it anymore ..” You shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s it?” Steven scoffed. “Yeah…that’s it” you whispered about to walk away. “What’s going on? I’m like so confused right now.” Steven gently gripped your arm. “Nothing just forget it…it’s not like you wanted to go anyways.” you rolled your eyes. “And what makes you think that?” He muttered eyes scouring your face for the truth. “Um, I don’t know let’s see …you quite literally ignored me this entire week!” You responded sarcastically.
“I didn’t mean to. I had a lot of shit on my mind alright?” Steven uttered softly. It almost felt genuine. The words he spoke just last night almost became liquid. “Yeah like what?” You whispered eventually looking into his eyes. “You can tell me..” You spoke gently stepping into him closer. No matter how much he’s hurt you. Steven would always make you melt. “Nothing let’s just forget about it…he pulled away opening up the fridge once again.”
It was like a switch was flipped. How he went right back to that cold shoulder he had been giving you all week. “You're a fucking asshole” You spewed, already ready to walk out of the kitchen. “Where are you going?” He abruptly spoke again. “The boardwalk…you know? so I won’t annoy you here.” With that, you left a confused and remorseful Steven behind.
~
“Hey, look y/n why don’t you go get a lemonade?” Belly suggested with an eyebrow raise. Shit. you were hoping they forgot about that. “Guys I don’t feel up for this..” You pouted looking between both Taylor and Belly. “Noooo go talk to him! you look hot as fuck.” Taylor gently grabbed your face giving you a mini pep talk.
“What if Xavier wants to hang out..I cant just ditch you guys?!?” You were stalling and they knew it. “We’ll be here waiting for you” Belly smiled. “Just try to have fun alright? But hey if you don’t really want to do it …we’ll back off” She narrowed her eyes at Taylor. “No…I’ll go” You laughed giving both of them a hug “Thank you guys.i really appreciate this.” You’d definitely still be moping around in your room about Steven if it wasn’t for Belly and Taylor. They both wished you luck as you headed straight for the lemonade stand.
As soon as he spotted you. The biggest smile spread across his face. “y/n? damn, it’s been so long” Xavier greeted you with a hug. “It’s only been a year!” You playfully ruffled his curly hair that sat atop his head. “That’s way too long…I enjoy seeing pretty girls year-round.” He spoke smoothly, he definitely knew how to talk to girls. “Shut up” You laughed pushing him away with not that much force.
“I have an hour lunch break…you up for arcade games?”
~
“So…you seeing anyone?” Xavier asked as he ate a scoop of his mint chocolate chip ice cream. You thought about it for a moment. Technically no you weren’t seeing anyone. But you knew you were still hung up on Steven. A day at the boardwalk with Xavier wouldn’t change that. “It’s complicated…I guess” Xavier sighed “I've been there…it’s rough” You nodded you were curious as to what he meant but you didn’t want to be nosey.
“Hey, look they have street fighter..” Xavier smirked. “Want to go a couple of rounds?” You nodded immediately pulling him towards the game. “Mhhm loser buys the winner a funnel cake!” You suggested with a chuckle. “Ouuu im so down y/n” Xavier squeezed your hand that held his quickly striding towards the arcade game.
Just two more steps, Just two more steps and you’d be fine. The rowdy yelling completely threw you off. You stopped in place looking behind you where the voices were coming from. You had no time to move out of the way, no time to prevent this from happening.No time to stop the trio of boys that you knew all too well. Suddenly a body collided with Xavier, the force immediately making your intertwined hands lose. “Dude, what the fuck?” Xavier groaned. It was then that you snapped back into reality. Eyes wide when you noticed Xavier’s ice cream now all over his shirt.
“What’s up? how are we doing?” That voice full of humor made you scoff. Steven stood tall a smile on his face. You hated that it kind of made your heart flutter. “Steven, what is your problem?” You gestured towards Xavier’s now ice cream stained shirt. “He’ll be fine y/n it’ll wash out.” Steven laughed, but once he noticed you didn’t find this funny at all he frowned. “I’m sorry man, I just came over to say what’s up..” You ignored Steven’s apology not believing he meant it. “Hey want me to help you get cleaned up?” You asked Xavier voice full of concern.
“No.I got it…I’ll see y’all later.” Xavier spoke nonchalantly as he walked away. When he was out of eyesight you brushed past steven heading out the door.
“Y/n” Steven immediately followed behind you. His long legs make it easier for him to catch up with you. “You embarrassed me” You stopped outside the arcade, letting him pull you to the side. “Embarrassed? sorry to interrupt your little date��� Steven scoffed. “It's not a date we were just hanging out, why do you care?” You groaned running your hands down your face. “Maybe because just yesterday you were supposed to hang out with me?” Steven spoke definitively.
“Oh my god, just earlier you agreed to forget about it,” you said with an eye roll. “It was dumb, stop acting like you care just go home Steven I did you a favor.” He shook his head “What are you talking about right now?” Steven pulled you in closer, one of his hands placed on your waist. The other coming to the side of your face, willing you to look at him.
“I heard you.i heard everything,” you spoke up voice hoarse. Steven’s heart carried pain at the tears that stood brimming in your eyes. The realization was clear when he made the connection. “And you know..who cares what Jeremiah and Conrad think! what hurt the most was you.” You shrieked. You hated that you were crying in front of him. You hated that when he hauled you against his chest you felt secure.
“I'm sorry baby... I'm sorry” Steven sounded voice vulnerable. Leaving kisses atop your head. “Why would you say that?” you sobbed breaking down in front of the boy who caused it. “I didn't mean any of it” Steven brought your face between his hands once again. “But you said it..it still fucking hurts Steven.”
You wiped your face getting prepared to pull away and walk back home.
“Wait, please let me talk to you.” Steven begged. “okay” you replied being prepared to cry all over again. “My head has been all fucked up..and that isn't an excuse I know” Steven looked down as if he couldn't construct the next words. “Please don't shut me out.” you pleaded gently. “I want you...i have all this time.” Steve confessed for the first time.
“—And I didn't want to fuck anything up we've..been so close all our lives if I ever messed that up I would never forgive myself.” It's as if you were dreaming, the boy you loved stood in front of you disclosing his feelings for you. “And what? this whole week of you acting cold towards me, were you trying to avoid your feelings?” Steven bobbed his head “Yes, if I lied to myself it would make lying to everyone else easier because the fucking truth is I want you so bad” You didn't tell him but at that moment you forgave him.
“And you called me the annoying one?” You giggled pushing on his chest gently. “Right now we could have been making out on the beach….but noo you had to be a brooding boy” Steven tickled your side, causing you to squirm in his arms. “Yeah, my fault can I kiss you now? been practically wanting to my whole life.” Steven threw his head back fake pouting setting one hand over his chest. You figured you'd throw his words right back at him. “You're so desperately desperate”
Steven smirked “Yeah for you? I am” Those words welcomed a whole lot of beautiful feelings. At that moment is when Steven bent down bringing his lips down onto your own. As your lips moved together, butterflies erupted in your belly. You smiled against his lips when you both needed a breath. “Hey, by the way, your not off the hook.. I'm still sort of pissed at you.” You declared pointing a finger into his chest.
“Yeah, I figured” He laughed wrapping his arms even tighter around you. “How about I make it up to you this whole week? I'm taking you out on dates…ill even get on my knees if I have to. I'm going to follow you around like a puppy.” Steven rambled on. You laughed out loud covering your mouth with your hands. “Oh, it's funny?” Steven raised an eyebrow suggestively. “Yeah, you're such a loser.” You joked.
Before Steven could respond you tugged him into another kiss. Perhaps everything wasn't one hundred percent fixed. But you and Steven were finally here together. You and Steven were finally in each other's arms that's all that mattered. You’d figure out the rest together.
tags 🤍: @gillybear17 @snowsharkk @tesssastle @conradsupporterr @alyssa-cabrera @eranthisphiny @xoxoloverb @lostaurorax @lanisdreams @alexzluvz @lalaland-notfound @liltimmyst @unsaidjaelineose @buckys2thicc @lilygreennn @t8lzw @medusaslilsister @1-800-stilinski @yazmi710 @j-brielmalfoy @ashcannotwrite @colbysbrocks @exonct07 @multilover19 @mimisparkle12
@littlefreaksatellite @vintagebitc @lexi-2004 @melllinaa @xcallmetaniax @brizzlessizzler @haroldpotterson @livinginaglasspalace @delicatekidpeanut @queenanababy
@drinkawinchester @sarahbutnot @salvatoremikaelson54 @furiouscopsherduniversity @marrigold-2002 @angeliquelunasstuff @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @daphnen21 @ietss @imanaforever @itsreynasworld @she-is-a-happy-girl @joeybandthings
@kateisintrouble @stvrdustalexx @fictionisjustbetter @whezzy223
@conradssupporterr @clubmeredith13 @fatduck45 @trampstampz @fangirl-kimora
@just-let-me-fangirl-in-peace @reenfluffmarshmallow @kaz-mf-brekker
@yazmunson @bookg1rl @hockey-lover86
@just-a-pink-lady @moo-b1tch
#tsitp series#tsitp x you#tsitp fanfic#the summer i turned pretty#the summer i turned pretty fanfic#belly conklin#steven conklin x reader#steven conklin imagine#steven conklin tsitp#tsitp#prime video tsitp#prime video#Conrad fisher#jeremiah fisher
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can i request a crack drabble where cassian uses boobs as stressballs, reader is standing infront of him, he has an arm on her shoulder and puts his hands in her bra, reader doesn’t react bc he has done this a million times before, he does it so often that he one time forgot to remove his hands from readers boobs when someone walked in with you on his lap just reading casually,
🙏😩😩🧎♀️
obsession
Cassian x f!Reader
Summary: Cassian has an obsession with one particular part of you.
Warnings: suggestiveness
A/N: thank you for the request! I love this idea
Cassian was … obsessed with your tits, to say the least. He always wanted a hand on them, and it didn’t bother you, not too much. It wasn’t always sexual, even if it did sometimes lead that direction frequently. He would wrap one arm around your chest, pulling you back against him and slip the other hand up your shirt, peppering kisses down your neck. You’d laugh, leaning back into him and twisting so he could lean down and press a kiss to your lips.
He’d let out a disgruntled noise or sometimes even a whine when you pried his hand away, “insatiable,” you’d roll your eyes and turn to walk away, only to have him wrap his arms around your waist and pick you up off the ground, spinning you in circles until your head was spinning and you were laughing uncontrollably.
The fireplace was crackling in the corner, you laid out on the couch with your back pressed up against his chest. He had one arm around your waist, the other tucked inside your shirt - as usual, and his head was propped on the side, dozing off. You’d insisted he must be uncomfortable, but he refused to move and insisted you stay right in place, your book propped open on your legs as he dozed behind you. Even though you were closely approaching the climax of the book, you couldn’t help turning your head to watch him once in a while. He looked so peaceful, so calm and content in his sleep you’d stay there for hours if necessary.
The front door opened and closed quietly, and Cassian stirred, his eyes blinking open. You were used to unexpected visitors coming at all ungodly hours by now, and didn’t move or bother going to greet them.
Mor flung the door open and strolled right in, Azriel and Rhys arguing in low tones behind her. Mor stopped, her face turning slightly red. “Did we interrupt something?” That caught the attention of the two Illyrian’s.
“A nap.” Cassian huffed, tugging you closer to him. Your lips parted slightly as you realized exactly where his hand was.
“Cassian,” you hissed, tugging his hand out. Rhys had burst into laughter and your face turned beet red. Azriel had a look of cool amusement on his face and Mor looked slightly scandalized.
He tugged back, resisting the movement and keeping his hand firmly in place. “I like them.” He grumbled and you groaned, throwing your head back against his shoulder. “What the fuck do you want?” He snapped at the three of them. He can get a bit pissy if his sleep is interrupted.
“Move your hand,” you muttered under your breath, and he only gave a small squeeze. Mor gave you a look, as if to say ‘you’ll never live this down,’ and you knew you wouldn’t.
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Vox / female reader / Valentino smut
Sooooo... that "Vox hypnotizes me" post? Yeah, I made it into a fic. Sue me 😎
Media: Hazbin Hotel
Pairing: Vox / female reader / Valentino + Vox / Valentino + onesided Vox / Alastor
Word count: 3.1k
Warnings: none apply, everything is consensual
Tags (among others): threesome, hypnotism, electrocution, erotic electrostimulation, multiple orgasms
Where else to read: AO3, username: TheWeirdDane, title: A Shocking Outcome
Enjoy the filth, my lovelies <3
-------------------
You had a feeling you were being obnoxious. Again. Vox wouldn’t say it, but you could hear it in the way that Valentino sighed louder and more often behind you.
“For fuck’s sake, Vox!” he suddenly exclaimed, making you jump and look at him. You couldn’t help a smirk; you would never admit it, but you secretly loved riling up Valentino when he couldn’t touch you. Vox would never allow him to hurt you.
“Can you keep your fucking pet in line?” he growled, taking a deep drag of his cigarette, a deep scowl on his face.
“Oh, but I’m hardly doing anything, Mister Valentino, sir,” you giggled and blew him a kiss before focusing on Vox again. You kissed the side of his monitor, wrapping your arms around his neck. Valentino cursed. Vox was quiet, furiously tapping away at his keyboards. That is, until he abruptly turned in his chair, looking straight at you. You swallowed hard, for the first time in a while feeling a slight current of fear going through you.
A step back wasn’t permitted, because suddenly, Vox stood up, towering above you, with a hand clutching your dress.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that Val is right. You’re not behaving properly, now, are you?”
Your mouth opened and closed several times. Your eyes widened.
“Perhaps I should let my... business partner have some fun with you.”
“Vox, please, I didn’t mean---”
“What you meant,” he barked, interrupting you, “is irrelevant. You’re being a brat. We can’t have that attitude around here.”
His eyes glanced towards Valentino, and you shivered when he got up, the couch creaking slightly. He quickly closed the distance between you, all four hands grabbing you.
“Vox, please, I---” you tried again, but were silenced by a sharp click of Valentino’s tongue.
“Let your owner speak, darlin’.”
You bristled.
“He’s not my owner, you sleazy piece of---”
“Ah-ah, that’s quite enough of that, my dear,” Vox said and let go of your dress. Valentino had a firm grasp of you with all hands, so you couldn’t move away. “He’s right. I think you need a... little break. Don’t you agree? It’s so hard being my assistant, after all.”
His claws caressed your chin, making you shiver.
“I know I’m a tough boss, but you’re always doing so well for me. Actually, I think you deserve a break.” He grinned widely, and his red eyes began pulsing slightly. As you looked at him, a big black spiral inside his eye moved through it, in an... oddly comforting rhythm. It pulsed rhythmically.
“Listen very carefully,” he purred. You nodded, staring at the slowly moving black circle. It was somehow very soothing. As you looked at it, all worries seemed to ebb away.
“You’re being so good for me. But tonight, you’ll be good for Valentino and I, won’t you?”
You blinked a few times, then frowned slightly.
“Vox, what do you---”
“He said listen, honey,” Valentino purred into your ear, two hands on your shoulders, and the other two on your hips.
When Vox spoke again, his voice was lower and more staticky. The black ring still moved through his eye, a tad faster now. You were transfixed.
“You’ll do whatever Val asks of you. No matter how deranged or depraved. Because I know you’ll be into it. You won’t be able to get enough. Isn’t that right, baby?”
“Yes, Vox,” you mumbled, staring into his eyes. The longer you stared, the heavier you started feeling. You couldn’t believe your legs could carry you, actually. Your eyes were suddenly feeling like curtains of lead. Impossible to keep them open, you wanted to close them, but Vox slapped your cheek gently.
“Look at me, baby. That’s it. Good girl. We’ll be good to you, and you’ll be good to us. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Vox,” you mumbled again. The longer you stared into his screen, the more carefree you felt. It felt as if your mind steadily threw out everything with it, until you were left with a pleasant buzzing going through your entire body.
“What will you do, baby?”
His voice sounded as if coming from afar.
“I’ll be good to you and Mister Valentino,” you drawled.
“That’s right. He’ll fuck you to within an inch of your life, probably, and what will you say?”
You shivered.
“Thank you, Mister Valentino.”
“That’s right, baby. Now, go on, let Val have his fun. I need to work.”
“Yes, Vox.”
Valentino allowed you to turn around before he grabbed you again, this time to pull you towards his luxurious, spacious couch.
“Look at you, being so pliant and obedient,” he purred, quickly pulling your underwear down and off of you. You breathed a little harder. “Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you...”
“I thought you liked it when your girls resisted,” Vox commented. Valentino chuckled darkly.
“Oh, I do, I relish it. But change can be nice.”
Vox laughed, and Valentino’s grin widened.
“Now, spread those gorgeous legs, babygirl.”
You shivered and nodded, parting your legs. It produced a wet, sticky sound that made you blush.
“Oh? Could it be that you’re already hot and bothered?” Valentino teased. “Already wet for me?”
“Please, Mister Valentino,” you whined.
“What is it, baby? You can tell daddy what’s wrong.”
You whined louder and looked up into his face.
“I want you!”
“Aww, come on, baby, I know you can do better than that. Try again.”
A shudder wrecked through you, making Valentino snicker mockingly.
“Oh, aren’t you just the most adorable little whore this side of Pentagram City? Come on, try again. For daddy.”
You licked your lips with the tip of your tongue, already feeling your pulse pick up pace.
“Please, daddy, I need your cock inside me!”
Valentino’s grin filled your vision when he leaned down to kiss you. His tongue was long and slimy and prehensile, and it quickly moved to the back of your mouth, slithering into your throat where it got you to gag. Yet, even as your stomach jumped, you moaned and grabbed his face to haul him closer.
Two of his hands grabbed the couch tightly, the remaining two grabbing your waist. The grip was harsh and made you gasp, before a gurgling sound was pulled from your throat when his tongue started thrusting into your throat.
Your legs trembled, as did your hands, and you closed your eyes, relishing the whitehot pleasure that sloshed through your veins. A shuddering sigh left your lips when Valentino pulled back, then a soft when of disappointment.
He cooed.
“Oh, don’t worry, my little darling, I’ll make sure you’ll feel so good. Daddy always treats his girls well, doesn’t he?”
You vaguely registered Vox’s snort, but were too focused on Valentino to really care.
“Yes, daddy,” you whispered. You were so unbearably horny and wet, and it was so unfair that Valentino wasn’t shoving his cock inside you right this second!
“Please, daddy,” you whined again, seemingly taking Valentino by surprise when you spoke without being prompted to. ��I need you, I need your cock inside me! Please, I’ll be so good!” His eyes widened slightly, before the widest grin pulled them into narrow slits. His tongue wriggled past his sharp teeth, slithering over your lips.
“You sound positively divine when you beg, babydoll. I could get used to that.”
You arched your back, your cunt practically dripping with need when you spread your legs even wider, uncomfortably so.
“Oh, but you were not kidding! Look at that pretty, little cunt. You need daddy to fill you so badly, don’t you, hmm?”
“I do!” you almost cried, feeling mortified but impossibly aroused at the same time.
“Val, don’t you know it’s not polite to leave a woman waiting?”
You blinked, looking towards Vox as his voice drifted across the room. Blinking again, Valentino was suddenly holding a modern, high-tech video camera. This made a cold shiver run down your spine, but the frisson of fear didn’t alleviate the burning need in the pit of your stomach.
“Oh, Voxxy,” Valentino snickered, pointing the camera at you. “Say hi to your fans, baby.”
You simply mewled, staring into the lens.
“Eh, good enough. Remember, darling, I could make you a star. You got the makings of a proper movie doll.”
Vox groaned somewhere behind you.
“Val, it’s not polite to play with your food.”
Valentino laughed.
“Oh, you’re such a spoilsport. But, if you insist...”
With two hands, he pulled down his black thong to free his cock. You nearly salivated at the sight, knowing it would soon be buried deep inside you. Valentino was able to decipher your expression, because he grinned widely and rubbed the head of his cock against your oh so sensitive cunt. You jerked with a mewl. Valentino hissed softly.
“That’s right, baby, daddy is going to fuck you so good,” he hissed, pressing lower until his head caught on your hole. Wasting no further time, he shoved himself inside you with a single, rough thrust that had you howling.
His cock drilled into you, splitting you open, and although you knew it was supposed to hurt, it... didn’t. Not as much as it realistically should have, anyway. No, the pleasure was so much stronger, and made you moan loudly. You grabbed at his coat, throwing your head back against the couch.
“Daddy!”
Valentino snarled quietly as he continued to push inside, burying himself so deep you swore you could feel his cock in your belly. He throbbed hard, the tightness of your cunt meaning you imagined you could feel all the veins along his shaft.
“I don’t hear you being so smug now,” Vox snickered. “Is her hole that good, Val?”
“Shut it,” Valentino growled, aiming the camera at your face.
Then began the real deal.
He wasted no more time. He pulled back until just the head was still inside you, and then slammed hard forward, pushing all the way inside and pulling a wretched cry from your lips.
“That’s it, my little bird,” he rasped, “sing for me!”
You howled again, your legs trembling and your hands grasping desperately at the front of his coat.
“Daddy, please, it--- it feels so good!”
“Yeah? Does it, doll? Why don’t you tell me about it?”
You whined loudly, lifting your legs to wrap them around his narrow waist.
“Harder, daddy, please, fuck me harder!”
He groaned, pushing you hard against the couch before he, indeed, began plowing into you with so much force that the couch began creaking. You cried out, and now the pain was starting to increase, his thrusts so hard it bordered on ruthless.
“Break the couch, and you buy me a new one.”
“Fuck off, Vox, unless you wanna join in on the fun,” Valentino snarled. Much to your surprise, you suddenly felt claws in your hair, pulling your head backwards. You opened your eyes just in time to see Vox standing behind you, a wide and ominous smile on his screen. He bent forward and kissed you harshly. His tongue was different from Valentino’s - shorter, thicker, and much more slimy - but it made you moan all the same as it pushed into your mouth. You could barely breathe, and your lungs burned. Every single of your nerve endings seemed to have caught fire as well, making heat surge through you in violent waves.
You clenched hard around Valentino, and he growled deep in his throat, shoving himself oh so deep inside you.
You couldn’t speak. You could only make such utterly pathetic sounds as Valentino fucked you and Vox kissed you like their afterlives depended on it. The longer it went on for, a knot appeared in your stomach, winding itself so painfully tight it made you tremble and gasp sharply. One of your hands let go of Valentino, instead reaching behind you, fumbling around for a bit before finding Vox’s coat. You grabbed it tightly.
“Oh, you really are into this,” he snickered after withdrawing his tongue from your mouth. “Maybe I didn’t even have to hypnotize you.”
“Sh--- shut up,” you managed to croak and opened your eyes to look up at him.
“Eyes on me, amorcito,” Valentino growled, before straightening up. He grabbed your legs to press them against his chest, not missing a single thrust. The new position made you see stars, especially when Vox’s clawed hand decided to join in. A claw pressed against your clit, and you inhaled sharply, writhing violently.
You knew, despite the fogginess of your mind, that Vox had a thing for electricity - which made sense - and you knew he wasn’t afraid of taking it out on you.
Yet, you wanted it so badly! There were no thoughts in your head; only desire.
So, when Vox sent a slight current of electricity through his claws and into your cunt, you moaned unashamedly, clenching hard around Valentino who also seemed... affected by the sudden spark.
“Oh, Voxxy,” he purred breathlessly, grinding hard against you.
The knot in your stomach tightened.
“Who knew you would want to play with your own assistant, hmm?”
“You kidding? She’s a fucking goddess, Val!”
Your heart skipped a beat. Valentino snorted.
“You always were so sentimental. Come ‘ere.”
You looked up at the two Overlords, and couldn’t help a shuddering moan when they kissed. It was messy, and slobby, and so fucking hot. Their tongues pressed against each other, saliva dripping onto your face and chest, making you shudder with arousal.
“Touch me, Val,” Vox demanded, and Valentino snickered.
“So bossy, too! But, if you insist.”
Then, Vox grunted, and you saw from the bend of Valentino’s arm that he was jerking off Vox.
The knot grew ever tighter. Breathing became increasingly difficult. You could only pant and gasp, pleasure crashing over you as an orgasm rapidly approached.
“Daddy,” you managed to get over your tongue, but he didn’t pay attention to you, aside from fucking you into the couch, of course.
Another spark of electricity went through your cunt, and that was all it took.
You cried out hoarsely, your entire body jerking so hard Valentino had to grab you with two hands to force you to stay in place. Your cunt clenched and spasmed hard around Valentino, who in turn growled into Vox’s mouth, who then moaned in that wonderfully staticky way.
“Yes, fuck yes” they both growled, their voices raspy and deep.
Feeling you come so hard, Valentino thrust even more violently into you, gripping the camera so tightly it groaned.
“That’s it, baby,” he hissed, and you had no way of knowing if he was talking to you or to Vox. Either way, it was insanely hot.
Valentino kept fucking you, and Vox kept electrocuting you, until yet another orgasm swept through you, not even half a minute after the first one. You gasped sharply, fairly certain that your nails were cutting holes in their coats. But if they did, neither Vox nor Valentino admonished her. Not yet, anyway.
When Valentino finally reached his own end, he flooded your cunt with his warm, sticky cum with a thunderous growl, and you arched your back, breathing rapidly.
“Thank you, daddy,” you whined, “thank you!”
“Good doll,” he rasped.
There was a soft ‘beep’, and he tossed the camera to the couch. Pulling out of you with a filthy sound, his cum immediately began dripping from your gaping hole. You shuddered and blushed, closing your trembling legs and turning your head to look after him.
Turned out, he went behind the couch, grabbing Vox by the waist. Soon enough, Vox was naked, and moaning hard and loud when Valentino was fucking him as well. You didn’t know how in Hell Valentino could already be hard and ready to go again, but then again; he was the Overlord of sex, drugs, and depravity, so it shouldn’t really surprise you.
Breathing hard, you sat on your knees on the couch, watching the show with half-lidded eyes.
Suddenly, Vox grabbed your chin, and he kissed you rather harshly. Each thrust from Valentino was followed by a grunt into your mouth.
“Oh, come now, Voxxy,” Valentino teased, “are you really that head over heels for your own assistant?”
“Fuck off,” Vox groaned.
“Just sayin’, the two of you would do nicely together in a movie.”
The thought made a shiver run down your spine, and you mewled softly, much to Vox’s and Valentino’s amusement; they both snickered, although Vox’s sounded rather labored.
“Haven’t had enough, hmm?” Valentino cooed. You blushed fiercely, averting your eyes. “Don’t worry, darling, you can watch. I won’t charge you. Not this time.”
Vox hissed, and the kiss turned messy. Saliva dripped down your chin.
“That’s it, Val, right there, that’s so fucking good!”
Valentino chuckled darkly, and sunk his sharp teeth into Vox’s slim neck, sending sparks flying everywhere and making Vox moan loudly.
In a moment of boldness, a moment where you weren’t sure you were still under Vox’s influence, you decided to join in.
“Come on, sir, won’t you come for him?” you whispered against his screen. “Come for us?”
Vox’s claws tightened on your chin, pulling your lower lip down, and Valentino visibly shuddered.
“You dare talk to your boss like that? My my, you’re a brave one...”
You blushed and moaned when Vox shoved his tongue into your mouth, and you couldn’t help but caress the side of his screen.
“Don’t cause a power outage, Voxxy,” Valentino teased when Vox’s entire body went rigid. “We all know you’re so close, so why don’t you just let go?”
He groaned loudly, trembling all over.
“Come on, sir, we know you want to,” you chimed in, your tongue pressing against his.
With a loud crackling of electricity, Vox groaned, and Valentino snarled, pressing himself flush against his back.
“That’s it, Voxxy, you feel so fucking good,” he hissed, “milking my cock like that. Who knew you could be so desperate for someone who isn’t the Radio Demon?”
Vox shuddered.
“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” he growled. Valentino simply laughed, thrusting hard into Vox a few more times before he pushed Valentino enough, albeit rather weakly. However, Valentino obeyed, taking a few steps back from Vox.
“Now, baby, what do you say?” Vox sighed and straightened, looking down at you.
The look he sent you made you blush. You fiddled with your fingers.
“Thank you, sir. Thank you, daddy.”
Vox’s claws ran through your hair. It was almost tender.
“Good girl. Now, go get cleaned up, and don’t interrupt us again. We’re both busy.”
#text#hazbin hotel#vox hazbin hotel#valentino hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel valentino#x reader#hazbin hotel fic#staticmoth#onesided radiostatic#im not gonna tag the specific kinks sorry <3
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thinking about... meeting carlos sainz in the club
note: this is like two steps away from smut i can’t even lie; i love it tho. i would happily make out w carlos for hours and hours x
update: read part two here!!
---
the guy in the corner of the club is hot.
he’s leaning against the wall, next to a booth of his friends, probably. he has a drink in his hand, something simple. a beer? doesn’t matter.
he’s really hot.
and he carries himself with a really attractive kind of confidence, like he has a big dick and he knows it.
he’s been watching you too, all night. you’ve noticed it. when you were ordering at the bar, when your friends were dancing with you, and even now, when you’re simply sitting in a booth, chatting about who-knows-what. so, as well as being super hot, this guy also has a staring problem. you’re not complaining though; you’re definitely enjoying his attention.
you pick up your half-empty cocktail and say to your girls, “i’ll be right back.”
he’s still watching, even as he tips his drink toward his mouth. his eyes are locked onto you over the rim of the glass.
you take your time getting to him, stopping at the bar for a refill first, and then checking your appearance in the mirror behind the bartender. you don’t have to look back; you know his gaze is on you the whole time.
you finally walk up to him. he whistles lowly at you.
“guapísima.”
he holds out his hand, and, when you take it, twirls you around. you laugh, excited by the rush of adrenaline you get.
“i saw you staring,” you tell him.
“i can’t help it,” his accent is so sexy, oh my god, “i see you, you’re dancing, you’re flirting; you’re teasing me, hermosa, how can i not stare?”
his hands come down to your waist. you set your drink down and place your hands on top of his.
“you want to dance with me?”
you don’t bother replying. instead, you start walking backwards, trusting him to guide you safely to the dancefloor.
when you’re comfortably in the thick of the crowd, he handles you so you’re pressed to his front, practically grinding up on him.
“ay, mami,” one arm moves across your torso, his hand ending up splayed against your sternum possessively.
you’re not really dancing, rather just moving to the beat, more or less. you can’t say dancing’s the first thing on your mind right now, though, because you can feel him, and you want more. you turn back around to face him and wrap your arms around his neck. his hands fly to your waist. his eyes dart down to your lips, and he licks his.
as you move, you feel his hands drifting lower, to settle on your arse. he pulls you flush against him, somehow without missing a beat.
“me encantas.”
you’re playing with a lock of his hair, twirling it around your finger. his eyes are so hungry, and dark, and you think you could drown in them if he keeps looking at you like that.
he finally leans down and kisses you, languid and slow. you reciprocate eagerly, already antsy from the build-up you both had created.
he pulls you even closer, and grabs your leg, hitching it up against his hip. then, he pulls on your hair, forcing your mouth open for him, so he can slip his tongue back in.
you’re whining into the kiss, wanting more of him. your hips buck into his, his hand grips onto your shirt as he stumbles back for support, and he caresses your chin, then pulls your face toward him for your lips to meet again.
suddenly, you’re pulled apart. you blink at the man who’s done so, assuming he’s one of your partner’s friends by the way he gets shoved aside with an, “ay, cabrón! fuck off.”
turning back to you, the stranger smiles, and leans in to ask, “do you want to have some proper fun?”
---
extra note: perhaps a part two w smut??? 👀 let me know cuties x
#carlos sainz#carlos sainz jr#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz smut#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 fluff#scuderia ferrari#formula 1#formula one#f1 fic#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#formula one x you#carlos sainz jr x reader#carlos sainz jr imagine#carlos sainz jr smut#carlos sainz jr x you#mclarengf#gf writes!
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Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.
Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut
Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore
Chapter Word Count: 1762
—-MDNI—-
A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.
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I'm Not Your F*cking Maid
Please read Prologue before starting.
Chapter 1
I sat in the window booth at the typical sleepy diner, tapping my fingers on the sticky wooden table and checking the time on my phone every minute. She was late. She was never late. And now I’m getting worried. I’m sure she’s fine, I had convinced myself as I reached for my backpack and pulled out an old tome on burial rights over various different cultures. I might as well read to distract myself whilst I wait for her to arrive. I try to relax into the monotone ambience of the room, and just as I get settled into the scrawling text on the ancient pages, a growling engine pulling up outside draws my gaze away from the long paragraph on ‘Cremation’. I return my attention back to the book after a second as the engine ticks over outside for a few more beats before being turned off. The waitress returns to my table to collect the empty beer bottle I’d drained when I first arrived; she smiled and asked if she could get me anything.
“Just another one of those please,” I smiled back, hearing the bell ring as the front door opened and my gaze jumped from the waitress to Charlie as she came skipping towards where I was sitting, sliding into the booth opposite me.
“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I’m late, I had an errand to run and it took waaaayyy longer than expected.”
“It’s ok, I was starting to get a little worried so I’m just glad you’re alright….” I felt my voice trail off as I felt the booth cushion dip as someone sat next to me. I whipped my head around and came nose-to-nose with a man I’d never met before; with the most enticing green eyes I’d ever gazed into and annoyingly kissable lips pulling into a devilish smirk. Just as those lips parted to speak, I blurted out without thinking:
“Who the fuck are you?”
He blinked in slight shock, and paused like he was rethinking what he was going to say. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted a second time.
“Dean, don’t sit so close,” another man, who I didn’t even realise was there, had sat down next to Charlie. He was taller, with impressive hair and softer features than this Dean guy, who was practically sitting in my lap and eyeing me up and down. Dean gave this other man a look as if to say ‘shut up’, before turning to me once more, devilish grin back in place. He opened his mouth to speak a third time right as the waitress returned with my beer.
“Here you are,” she said sweetly, not knowing she was interrupting as Dean threw his hands up in defeat at not being able to get a word in, slumping back in the chair. The waitress put the bottle down in front of me.
“Can I get anything for your friends?” She looked around the table and before either of the men could answer, Charlie jumped in;
“Three very strong coffees please.”
Dean huffed, “Oh so I can’t even order a beer?”
“You two boys have been living on pizza and beer for God knows how long. At least drink something that contains some water,” Charlie quipped, looking at them both like they were naughty children. She sighed when she realised they looked slightly ashamed of themselves. “Anyway, (Y/n), this is Sam and Dean. I know you’ve been looking for work and these two might be able to help. They’re good friends of mine and they’re-“
“Hunters,” I interrupted, feeling my blood start to run cold, “yeah I know who they are. Winchesters,” the name felt bitter on my tongue, like poison.
They must have noticed the change of tone in my voice because the table went quiet, even the mischievous glint seemed to have gone from Deans gaze as he looked at me with intrigue. Annoyed at myself for not realising who they were sooner, I grabbed my backpack and unzipped it, packing away my book. I stood up and glared down at Dean, about to bark at him to move when Charlie grabbed my wrist.
“(Y/n) what’s wrong? What are you doing? Please don’t go, we…they could really use your help right now.”
“And why should I? They’re the reason I’m struggling in the first place,” I paused, staring down at the two men who now had dark, ashamed expressions cloaking their features, almost like this wasn’t the first time they’d heard this side of the story where they weren’t always the hero’s. “They’re the reason my family is dead, and I’m all alone.” More silence hung over the booth like a dark cloud. It was Sam who spoke up after a minute or so, genuine sorrow in his eyes.
“(Y/n) I’m so, so sorry. Who-”
“Bobby Singer.”
The Winchester brothers shot each other a stunned look.
“B-Bobby?” Sam stuttered whilst Deans eyes widened. He looked like he’d taken a blow to the chest and had the air knocked from his lungs, “We didn’t know he had any living relatives…”
“He was my uncle,” Deans jaw clenched, “And you guys didn’t know because he knew I’d end up being used against him. I collected books for him to help you guys on all your bullshit missions, so haven’t I already helped you enough? Don’t you owe me some peace?” I threw my bag on the floor and picked up my beer, taking several gulps before slamming it back onto the table before continuing, the words just spilling out. “He was my only living relative for as long as I can remember. So fuck you guys for taking him away from me.”
“We loved Bobby,” Dean spoke suddenly in a grave tone and his gaze went dark as he stood up to face me. His tall form with strong, broad shoulders loomed over my much smaller stature, one of his fingers jabbing into my chest.
“Dean-” Sam started but was silenced by a wave of Deans other hand.
“You can get down off your high fucking horse if you think that you’re the only family that he had. You weren’t. He raised us more than our own father did, and I’ll be damned if I don’t think about him every day and wish he was here. You’re not the only one grieving him so stop acting like a precious little bitch and grow up,” Deans voice grew louder and more pissed as he spoke, and with every word he spoke he got closer and closer until he was right in my face, our noses almost touching. My heart rate was starting to pick up and I could feel the anger start to boil in my veins. Without missing a beat I threw my fist out and punched him in the face, making him stumble out of the booth and into the aisle in the diner. I heard gasps around me but didn’t look up. When the anger in my veins didn’t fade with the single punch, I didn’t give him a chance to gain his composure as I tackled him, making him fall on his back as I straddled him, my knees gripping his hips as I began punching him again and again right in that stupid face of his. Charlie and Sam seemed to sit there in disbelief for a few seconds before springing into action and lifting me off the older Winchester brother. Sam held me back gently but firmly as Charlie helped Dean to his feet, handing him a napkin from the table for the blood pouring from his nose and lip.
“You crazy bitch!” Dean spat.
“Fuck you!” I tried to break free so I could slap him but Sam held me tight.
The whole diner had gone silent as they watched me lose my shit, some amused but most were horrified. It took a few more moments of silence before they all went back to what they were doing and Sam let go of me, watching me like I was a time bomb. I heard Charlie giggle quietly.
“Holy crap (Y/n) I had no idea you had that in you. I’m actually a little impressed, you were always so quiet.”
“What can I say,” I turned to glare at Dean “I learnt from the best,” as I turned away I heard him mutter under his breath.
“Yeah you aren’t the only one.”
For a second time I saw red, and before Sam could grab me I spun on my heel and threw my fist out. CRACK.
*
The car doors slammed closed next to me after I was crammed into the back of Deans car. It wouldn’t have been that bad - the seats were oh so plush - if it wasn’t for the handcuffs tight round my wrists and duct tape across my lips. Oh, and that my thigh was rubbing up against the man that I had just assaulted. Dean was in the same situation with the handcuffs and the tape, his long legs having to spread wide so he can fit in the back of his own car. I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face as I watched Sam and Charlie apologising to the diner staff through the front window. I was trying to find any sort of distraction right now, as Deans body temperature was hot and I could feel it through both his jeans and mine as he pressed into me. He was starting to make me sweat a little. Luckily it wasn’t long before Charlie and Sam hopped into the car, Sam in the drivers seat. They both turned to face us, smiles of bewilderment on their faces as if they were still processing what had just happened. Sam spoke first.
“(Y/n) is now officially barred from that diner, and honestly they wanted to call the cops. Charlie managed to save your ass as she still had her FBI badge on her,” he shot her a look and she grinned.
“So because now, you technically owe me a debt of gratitude, you will be staying in the bunker with the boys and helping them with their research.” She chimed, like she had won a game. In the end they got what they wanted.
I groaned and rolled my eyes. Of course. I heard Dean huff next to me, and he sounded just as displeased as I did. To be honest at this point, that’s fair.
Although he had it coming.
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Up Next
Chapter 2
#dean x reader#dean winchester x female!reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester#dean winchester smut#dean x you#dean x y/n#dean x female!reader
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Kitty
Husk x Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
a/n: helloooo, so someone requested a part 2 (and i enjoyed writing huskerdust) so of course, part 2!! this is a sequel to my first fic only you, which you can check out first if you’d like, but this can also be read as a standalone. ignore the fact that i accidentally switched povs about halfway😭😭 hope this isnt ooc LOL and enjoy!!
summary: another night of husk and angel existing together. of course, things are bound to happen.
word count: 1.1k
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“I swear to fuck, I’m going to die if I have to work another eighteen hour shift again.” Angel moaned, leaning his head back on the headrest of the sofa as he stretched his legs on Husk’s thighs. Husk sat on the sofa beside him.
Angel had come back to the Hotel about an hour ago and as usual, Husk and Angel went to talking. Though, after finishing their drinks, they didn’t simply retire to their rooms for the night. Instead, the conversation had shifted from the barstools to the couches in the living room.
“Sounds like you had it rough today.” Husk sympathizes, because he really does.
“Tell me about it.” Angel rolls his eyes. He shifts his legs again and it becomes increasingly more difficult for Husk to ignore their closeness. Somehow, during their talk, they had gotten closer and closer and if one of the other hotel patrons had walked on them at this moment, Husk was afraid they would think they were.. interrupting something.
The last time they were this close was.. yeah, when Husk tickled Angel. They hadn’t mentioned it since, which Husk was a bit shocked about. He was sure Angel would be all over teasing him about his hands being alllll over him, or even when he discovered that the bartender was also ticklish. But alas, that hadn’t happened. That’s not to say Husk didn’t want to talk about it, don’t get him wrong, but how was he going to say that he enjoyed tickling Angel?!
“How’s it with Al, anyway?” Angel cuts through his thoughts, suddenly. Husk clears his throat.
“Same old. The fucker only calls for me when he needs me to run his errands. Leaves me alone most of the time, though.” Husk grumbled, recalling a time that Alastor had ordered him to fetch some sinner who had apparently tried to run away after their deal with Alastor didn’t work in their favor. What made it all the more infuriating is that Alastor could’ve easily snapped the sinner in front of him in the blink of an eye.
“Huh.” Was all Angel said, in response, but he moved closer to the bartender, eyes blinking blearily and yawning.
“Tired?” Husk asked, yawning himself.
“Mmm.. maybe a little.” Angel mumbled. Husk readjusted his hands, his claws grazing slightly against Angel’s legs. The spider giggled sleepily, causing the cat to chuckle.
“Ticklish too.”
“Don’t act like you aren’t either.”
“Not more than you.” Husk grumbled, his face heating up. It wasn’t as though he could deny it— Angel had figured it out when he decided to tickle him back.
“That may be so..” Angel began, sitting up, looking too smug compared to how exhausted he seemed seconds earlier. “But I’m sure I can still make a kitty purr~”
Suddenly, Husk didn’t like where this was going.
Talk about a cringy line. Purr? “Don’t even think about it.”
“Whaaaat? I’ll be gentle~” Angel traced his finger under Husk’s chin. It was slow and light and unbearingly evil.
“Hhmmp..!” Husk pursed his lips. Angel took this as a sign to keep going as he crept closer to the bartender.
“Sensitive, are we?” Angel smiled, amused. One of his hands went to Husk’s shoulder, almost as though he was interrogating him.
“Shut it, Legs.” Husk grumbled, embarrassed.
“Not denying it, huh?” Angel muttered, chuckling to himself. One of his arms reached over to Husk’s sides, squeezing lightly as the soft fur spread between his fingers. Husk turned away, a crooked smile on his lips, yet no sound came out. Feeling a bit bolder, Angel sat over Husk, so that the bartender’s legs were between his knees. Husk didn’t say anything, though it was likely because he was too busy concealing his reactions.
Angel smirked.
“You are a tough cookie to crack, Kitty. Good thing I like a challenge.” Angel teased, taking his other hand to Husk’s other side, kneading softly. Only a few muffled giggles made it past Husk’s lips. Angel used his third arm, determined to make Husk break, and traced along his neck. He couldn’t deny that the way Husk’s neck clamped down on his fingers was adorable. Husk would probably die if he told him that. So he did. And while he didn’t die, the blush on Husk’s face was more than enough to make up for it.
“S-stohop talking..” Husk groaned, eyes squeezed shut.
“Hm.” Was all Angel said in response, scanning for Husk’s body. It was true Husk seemed pretty sensitive, considering how hard it looked for him to resist laughing, but nowhere he had tried had been enough to break his defenses. So where…
And then, he looked up at Husk’s ears, an idea popping into his head. No way. It couldn’t be.
He took his arms away from Husk’s sides, which had still been methodically tickling him, offering Husk a small chance at relief. Not that it lasted long because a second later, his hands were scritching on Husk’s ears.. similar to how one would pet a cat.
“Hhk!” Was the beginning of it as Husk gave one last effort to resist. Futile, of course. Then, a moment later: “SHIHIHIT!”
“No fuckin’ way! Your ears!?” Angel exclaimed, laughing at the irony and reeling over the fact his idea had worked so much better than he had thought.
“FUHUHUCK OHOFF!” Husk shrieked, flustered out of his mind.
“Just like a kitten! So adorable~ Our one and only bartender taken down by just a few ear scratches.” Angel beamed, very invested in this display. Angel, still scratching his ears, scratched at his tummy. Did cats like belly rubs? One way to find out, he supposed.
Apparently, they do? If Husk’s laughter increasing tenfold was anything to go by. It was sounding a little hysterical, though, and Angel wanted to treat him with the same gentleness that he had received a few nights ago. He eased up on the tickling, only scribbling on one of Husk’s ears. Husk was still ticklish there, but at least he could breathe.
“Ahahangel..”
“Yes~?”
“Youhuhu suhuhuck..” Angel laughed.
“You bet I do.” It was then that Husk realized his words and even while being tickled, the disappointment on his face was clear.
“Nohoho mohohore!” Husk giggled, minutes later, his exhaustion at its peak. The moment he said that, Angel relented, but not before giving him a quick poke to the side. Angel snickered when he jolted.
“Been waiting for this, have you?” Husk grumbled. Angel got off of him, but sat close to him. Their legs were touching.
“Yep. Since you were oh-so kind to grace me with some tickling, shouldn’t you have a taste of it, too?” Angel said, easily.
“Not at all.” Husk rolled his eyes, but he didn’t look nearly as annoyed as he tried to act like. “Next time, it’s going to be you. Again.”
“Next time?” Angel covered his mouth with his hand, chuckling. He assumed Husk was going to backtrack his words because he had just indirectly told him that he was expecting there to be a next time.
Instead, Husk smirked, a sneaky look in his eyes. “Yep. Next time.”
#huskerdust#angel dust#husk#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel tickle#tickling#jai’s fic#tickle fic#lee!husk#ler!angeldust#ticklish!husk#their relationship is ambigious tbh u can read it as platonic or romantic but theres like subtle hints of it being romantic??
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I'd hoped I would get at least a few days of peace after having to move back in with my dad, but within a few hours I heard honking outside the house. I waited for it to die down as I unpacked my stuff, before going outside to see the one person I couldn't face.
I knew Hunter better than anyone, but now i barely recognized him. the man in front of me had hundreds of pounds on the man I left, his bulk replaced with cut muscle. He had grown a beard too, changed his haircut. He looked so good it made my stomach turn.
"Took you long enough," Hunter said, lounging in his truck bed. I could see the flare of his lats even as he relaxed. "What the hell were you doing?"
"Unpacking," I said trying not to show any guilt or discomfort "What do you want?"
Hunter responded by tapping the tailgate, a motion that just meant to come sit down. I did without thinking, just like i had seen him do for me. It was the most common thing we used to do, besides almost get caught fucking. It was just nice to... talk.
Now, I could feel the body heat radiating off of him as I leaned back against his arm, feeling his bicep against my back. I'd never been so close to so much muscle in my life. I was in awe, mostly just confused on how it happened. I looked down to see his shorts, the only thing he was wearing, were much shorter than I was used to. He used to be afraid of wearing anything that cut off above the knee, too afraid of "looking gay". He must've changed a lot.
"So, how have you been?"
"Pretty good," Hunter said his accent just as thick as ever. "I got a job down at the the steel factory that pays pretty well, and I'm going to the gym again. I think I might be the biggest guy there now."
"I'll say! How the hell did that happen?" I exclaimed.
"Well," Hunter "One of my buddies told me about this Mutant Juice stuff, and I just thought it was some kinda hoax, but it was fucking crazy. Expensive as hell, but I think I'm getting my money's worth. I thought I'd just stop after a round or two, but at this point I think I'm just gonna keep growing until it stops working. Just get real fucking big, bigger than anyone else around here. Maybe I could even be on the ads for this stuff, flexing all of this muscle wearing almost nothing. I think I'd look pretty good like that, don't you?"
He knew what he was doing, and it was working. I needed to feel him, to hold him, to rip those shorts off and just have him again, but something still stopped me.
"You like all of these muscles?" Hunter said, reading my expression. He slowly bounced his pecs. "You always did stare at me a lot. God, did I love it. Still do. Something about the looks you give makes me feel like a fucking beast."
I could feel my dick straining my pants, begging for release. I couldn't do that, not yet. I had to find something else to talk about.
"How's your family?" I asked, veering the conversation away form anything too horny.
the words poured out of my mouth, but it immediately got Hunter to stop bouncing his pecs. Something in his expression changed, he looked... pissed.
"We haven't talked in almost a year. After you left without a word I told them, and... it didn't go well. I got a place of my own after a while." Hunter said
"You weren't..." I could feel my own heart shattering. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. I was the weird one, the freak. His life was perfectly mapped out, just like all of the men around here that had come before him. A decent job, a christian marriage, kids before 25. He had a happy life ahead of him, and I selfishly ruined that.
"I didn't stop being gay when you left. Even if that's what you wanted." Hunter said, his voice filled with a cold anger. "I was just...alone."
I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I tried to blink them away, before I felt his arm wrap around me and pull me towards his torso. the feeling of being in a hug of his was enough to get me to cry.
"I missed you." I said.
"I missed you too." Hunter replied as he sniffled from crying. "Y'know, for someone so smart I don't know why you sent that letter. Dear Hunter, I love you, I'll never forget the time we had, but please forget about me. I can't ruin your life. What the hell did you think was gonna happen?"
"I was trying to be all poetic, and self-sacrificial, and... yeah it was bullshit but I thought I was corrupting you. I still kind of do."
"You ain't doing shit. All you did was help me figure out who I actually wanted to be, which is gay and fuckin' massive. I'm just glad I can finally do both of those things now without anyone telling me I can't."
My head nuzzled into his neck as I thought about the man I was currently holding growing even larger. My hands couldn't even fully reach around his back as it was, what was I going to do if It got even wider?
"I'm glad to have you back, even if it won't be forever." Hunter said.
"Maybe next time you could come with me?" I asked, a question I knew would get shot down the last time we talked. He loved his family, and his hometown too much to ever leave, but he had changed a lot since I left.
"Sure. we'll do it together."
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Hi! If I can, I'd like to request something with Carl Gallagher and a fem reader! Can you please write about a mature and slightly stoic reader with two younger siblings, that lost their parents at a young age and she had to be the mother figure in their lives? I really like your writing and I thought you would make it a great short drabble.
(btw, the difference between the reader and her siblings is like, 2-4 years apart. Also, can the siblings be adopted by their really sweet and overprotective aunt? Thanks!)
I'm not sure if this is what you wanted anon but I'm lacking motivation so bear with me 😭
+
“ what was it like for you growing up? ” carl asked suddenly, his grey-ish blue eyes darting around amongst the night sky.
the two of you had ditched the party in your aunt's house, a celebration for your younger sister who had scored the lead in the romeo and juliet play at school, to lie out on the roof and point out different constellations. although carl didn't know shit about astronomy, you somewhat knew what you were talking about.
the question he asked arose after he explained a situation to you he remembered from when he was younger. involving his brother, some angry asshole and him taking out the guy's leg with the infamous baseball bat they keep on the stairwell of the living room. you managed a small grin from the story, but that was about it.
“ shitty. ” you replied in a short, blank tone. your stare remained on the different stars that lingered in the sky — unfortunately, not so many appeared that night, so you didn't have much to go on.
carl noticed you didn't exactly elaborate on why or how. and, even though he figured it had something to do with your parents not being around, he felt the need to push at it. would that make him an asshole? probably. but he's known you for seven months now and knew little about you, aside from the fact that you're rather... empty- or straightforward? with your responses.
let's just say, you could take shit in a way he never could. he's witnessed you getting yelled at with little to no reaction — if that were him, he'd lose it.
“ uh- ” he cleared his throat, turning to look at you with a lop sided smile. he almost seemed nervous to ask. “ how shitty? ”
you spared him a glance out of the corner of your eye. you seemed annoyed, but in reality, it was just your face- actually, you were surprised carl had the balls to ask. you knew the male was bold, he's shown that many times, but he's also been polite enough not to press into the business of your life.
you're glad he did though, in a way... you kind of wanted to tell somebody.
I mean, it's not like it was a secret. but to just get the weight off would be nice.
so with a sigh, you turned onto your side and tucked your arm under your head; balancing the weight of your head of your fist while you stared the brunette down. “ my parents died when I was little. that's why no one ever talks about them — also why my siblings live here with my aunt. ”
carl's brows shot up at this information, and his eyes slightly widened. “ oh, shit- ”
you cut him off from saying anything sympathetic. “ I had ta’ take care of ‘em when I was only ten. and, yeah I knew how to make ramen in the microwave, but I had no clue how to cook eggs. had no clue how to make acceptable meals for younger children - hell, I was reading out of cookbooks and it was confusing as fuck. ” you blinked away your frustration, ceasing the crease that began to form between your brows “ but I did it. I learned. ”
it was sad, really. listening to you rant on and on about how you had to clean up after them, teach your younger brother how to properly read because the school system wasn't shit. how you had to teach both your siblings how to tie their shoes, comb their hair on their own, prep their own meals as they got older - until finally their aunt stepped up to adopt them out. you were fifteen by then.
she took on you, as well, but you were gone by time your eighteenth birthday came around. of course you checked in with them everyday, but your aunt would always reassure you they were doing just fine and shooed you out.
“ jesus christ, y/n. ” carl mumbled, staring at you with a melted look of sympathy and.. something else. something unspecified. all he knows, it that it reminded him of his situation with fiona and their siblings - only, their parents weren't dead.
you pressed your lips together and averted your gaze to the sky again; once more rolling onto your back, tucking your arms behind your head to get comfortable. “ don't... look ‘t me like that. I'm fine, okay? that's the past. I'm just glad my brother and sister grew up alright. ”
“ but you had to take on a lot- ” carl pointed out with a frown, orbs dancing over your face in sadness. he did not want to see the girl he liked just push this shit off like it was nothing.
“ it's fine. ” you dully croaked, only to clear your throat right after. you refused to give in and tear down any walls that you've built up. “ I'm alright. ”
carl hesitated for a moment, leaning forward as if he were going to hug you- his arm lifted... but then, he lowered it back down to his side. gulping down any words that wanted to leave his mouth out of disagreement. “ alright... but I'm here for you. ”
you didn't reply at first, too caught up in your own head, but you heard him. you absorbed what he said.
and, for just a moment, a real smile lifted to your lips.
“ thank you, ” you mumbled, “ I appreciate it. ”
carl grinned, turning his eyes back onto the sky. “ anytime. ”
#carl gallagher x fem!reader#carl gallagher x reader#carl gallagher blurb#carl gallagher imagine#carl gallagher#shameless#shameless us#shameless us x reader
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He actually cancelled con to see if we can pull off a fucking dirty martini in part three. Can girlie get it together?
we can but we can't, you know? it's.... we're real complex, aren't we? good thing joe's sort of into it :)
Wordcount: 3K
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Mistaken, Not Stirred
part one - part two - part three - part four - part five
The bickering worked. It was fun. It did something. Being a bit bitchy and sassy and sarcastic, making faces and rolling eyes, it all just worked.
You swam in it.
Wanted to live in it forever, you liked it so much.
Joe looked extra nice when his stupid face was trying to suppress a smile, cheekbones on show, eyes all twinkly like a naughty schoolboy's.
“No thanks.”
Unbelievable.
And sure, it could be annoying when it happened in front of others, but now, with just you and him down in the bar, there was a tension that was impossible to ignore and the bickering kind of alleviated it enough to make it bearable.
To find amusement there.
A little bit of joy on these cold wet dreary December nights.
“No thanks.” Joe’d said when you offered a dirty martini. His face read he really didn’t want you to make one for him, but you knew if Martin had offered him one right now, Joe would’ve drank it dripping from his fingers if he had to.
To retaliate, you plonked down two martini glasses in front of you, and when Joe raised a challenging eyebrow, you said, “I’m thirsty.” which made him chuckle.
You turned around to find the right bottles of liquor and when you spun back, Joe had sat down at the bar right in front of you.
His eyes shot up from lower down when you looked right at him, and then they darted around for a second.
You knew what he’d been looking at.
Rude, yes. But next time you’d make sure to bend over just a little.
When Joe looked at you again, you narrowed your eyes a second and stilled in suspicion. Joe smiled a little bashfully, knew he’d been caught, but wasn’t going to apologise for anything.
“Martin says you’ve been dying to make me a drink.”
“Martin’s wrong,” you bit back immediately. “I’ve not been dying to make you a drink.”
You were.
You absolutely were.
“I just remember the first drink I ever made you–”
“Only.” He interrupted.
You stared at Joe a second. Blinked once. Twice.
“Only drink. The only drink you’ve ever made me.” Joe corrected you smugly, but pretended to be casual about it. Pushed his chin up and gestured with a hand for you to keep going, "But, go on."
The audacity of this man. Incredible.
You frowned and closed your eyes whilst you tried to find the right words, mouth ready to go, "What…?" followed by “the fuck?” perhaps, but the words never came out.
Instead, you put down the bottle and went, “You know what,” taking the two glasses and moving them down the bar a bit. Away from Joe.
“It’ll remain it.”
“No,” Joe laughed, immediately reaching out an arm across the bar that he then defeatedly rested his forehead on.
You moved the rest of your supplies down the bar too, and Joe looked at it for a moment, head still on his outstretched arm and, could he stop it already with this whole puppy dog face? The eyes, the pout?
The song ended and it was silent for jut a second, but that mere singular second felt excruciatingly long. It was just glass clinking and liquor pouring and you were being stared at from three barstools down, and then Joe got up and moved to sit right in front of you again and gave you a stupid little smirk, and, God.
You nearly dropped the jar of olives.
Made Joe laugh and silently mutter, “Oh my God,” like he couldn’t actually believe how cack-handed you were.
You ignored it.
Rose above it.
You didn’t, not really. You just couldn’t think of a come-back quick enough.
Finishing the drinks, you eyed Joe as you closed the jar of olives and the bottles of liquor used. Kept eyes on him in case he was going to reach over and take one of the glasses for himself.
He didn’t.
He stared right back at you though, all mischievous, waiting for what you were going to do with that second martini.
A flirtatious comment wouldn’t have felt misplaced, but you kept quiet. And so did Joe.
Obviously, that second martini was for him.
Were you just going to hand it over, though?
Of course not.
With everything somewhat tidied, you took both glasses, one in each hand, and took a tiny step backwards, just far enough out of reach that if Joe was to lurch forward, you’d be safe.
You went for a sip, but couldn’t hold in your laughter as you did. You got your mouth close, but not close enough to get an actual taste.
Your huffs of breath nearly blew the drink right from the glass, which only made you laugh harder.
Joe couldn’t help laugh with you, shaking his head before he dropped it, said, “Unbelievable.”
You had to put both glasses down to make sure you wouldn’t spill any, shoulders shaking as you giggled.
“Has Martin taught you nothing?” Joe said, standing up onto the footrest of the barstool to reach for a glass for himself, which, yea fine, he could take his dirty martini. You knew it’d be good and you knew he was going to eat his words in a second.
“Martin taught me plenty. This one’s on the house.”
Joe sat back down, dirty martini in hand, and you picked yours back up as well.
He smelled it first, winced slightly as if it stank, and you pretended offence.
Looking at him over your drink, you waited for Joe to take the first sip. You were so ready to accept a bitterly resentful compliment from him, were so excited to be able to rub it in his face for the literal rest of time. Or, you know, until you’d actually lose your job... not that you were a pessimist, but, you weren’t completely daft.
And Joe... he took a second. He waited to have a sip too. Raised an eyebrow, daringly so, but you were unsure what he was daring you to do.
So instead, you copied him.
Raised an eyebrow right back at him and then looked at the drink you made that he was holding. Saw how slowly, Joe made it reach his lips, tipped the glass slightly, and tasted what you’d just mixed for him.
The anticipation was high.
You eagerly awaited the review.
The rating.
Watched his face closely.
Waited to see how Joe was going to deal with drinking a perfect drink, made by your hand.
You held your own glass near your mouth, frozen, and waited.
Joe took a larger sip than you were expecting him to, a whole fucking gulp, and slowly set the glass back down as you saw him swirl the liquid around in his mouth.
His face read nothing.
He puffed out his cheeks and then sucked them in, was about to swallow and, fuck, you were so ready for him to tut, to groan, to fall down to his knees and to admit defeat.
But then, Joe didn’t swallow.
He didn’t fucking swallow.
Joe made eye-contact and instead of swallowing the huge gulp of alcoholic beverage, he leant forward a little, arms crossed on the bar, hanging heavily into his shoulders, and then he... he opened his mouth.
And he didn't open it to let a little drip out.
He opened his mouth wide.
Let whatever was in there just fall out back into the glass.
Let it splash and leak like a fucking waterfall.
Clear vodka, vermouth, brine had mixed with Joe's spit and was now leaking out of his mouth, over his chin and onto the bar in front of him where it ran down a little and wet the sleeves of his shirt.
Dumbfounded.
You couldn't fucking believe it.
What?
“Wha...” you couldn't even finish the word as your eyes grew in shock and your brow furrowed in confusion.
There was no way the drink was bad enough for Joe to not be able to even swallow it down.
“You um,” Joe held a fist to his mouth and grimaced. Looked at you like he was about to throw up. “You must have gotten some measurements wrong, I think...”
You looked at his glass.
Not a fucking chance.
You’d done it all correctly!
You’d measured everything just fine, knew the steps, did them all in the right order... mixing a dirty martini wasn’t hard.
You’d mixed that drink to fucking perfection and you fucking knew it.
And then, in an insane turn of events and choices, instead of going for your own drink that you were holding just a mere little tiny inch from your face, like, babe it was literally right there... instead of just going for that. The drink you made for yourself. The one you had right there. Instead of doing that, you reached for the glass that Joe’s mouth contents had just leaked into and took a sip right from the wet mess Joe’d created.
It went so fast, Joe didn’t even really have time to process what the fuck you were doing and what the fuck he was doing.
Before any of it registered, you gasped at the cold splash of drink that hit you in the chest.
You had reached for Joe’s glass, brought that to your face to have a taste because obviously Joe was wrong and being a little shit and you had to know. Had to verify.
You’d taken a sip.
But Joe’s hand had chased his glass.
Had taken hold of the foot of it right as you were pouring some of it into your mouth, and he’d pulled it.
That had been in his mouth.
You couldn’t possibly be fucking serious right now.
Joe felt himself twitch in his jeans at the sight. You shouldn’t be doing this right now, what the fuck was wrong with you?
But your grip on the glass was too strong as you tried to hold it in place, pulled on it as Joe did too, and then, Joe let go.
Made you splash the full thing against your whole person.
Joe was already up on his feet when a shrill gasp escaped you. Fuck, that was cold. Made whatever of the drink that had made it into your mouth escape it immediately, too.
“Shut... the fuck, up.”
No one was talking. Why did you tell the whole room to shut up?
It had all gone so fast.
“Are you joking?”
Joe rushed his way around the bar, hands finding a tea towel on the side and he was laughing.
“This is your–”
Fault.
You were about to tell Joe the reason why your whole front was wet was his fault. You couldn’t finish the sentence however, because Joe pressed the tea towel right against your mouth. Got a hand around the back of your neck to really press the fabric into your face, your neck, your chest.
If you wanted to push him away, which, coincidentally you didn’t, but you wouldn’t have been able to. He didn’t give you the chance to.
Joe repeated sorry over and over as he tried to swallow his giggles, trying but absolutely failing at trying to remove the evidence of what he’d just done.
“You did this, why would you– you pulled whilst I was literally drinking from it– this is your fault,” you tried to get in his face, tried to force eye-contact, but Joe kept eyes on what he was dabbing. On the wet skin that was now tacky and sticky and the drink had been so cold but you were burning now, hot to the touch.
You drank the martini that had been inside Joe’s mouth and then got it thrown into your face, sort of. And whatever you got to taste of it was actually fine. You hadn’t gotten measurements wrong at all.
“That martini was fucking perfect, I didn’t mix it wrong at all, why did you spit it out?”
Joe kept dabbing. You kept accusing.
And, God, you just kept going.
Joe was still repeating sorry, louder and louder in a bid to overpower you eventually, make you shut up because this had just been a joke. He hadn’t meant to splash you with a perfectly fine dirty martini that he was just pretending wasn’t any good.
He was meant to help you close the bar, that’s what he told James and Chloé. Was meant to wipe the bar down after he humorously hadn’t swallowed the sip. Was meant to clean his own mess and remind you to empty the bins, remind you to check if everything was stocked correctly.
“You’re cleaning the bar, I’m not touching that. Why didn’t you just drink that– swallow that, like a normal person? Why did you–”
It was just a joke.
“I know how to make a dirty martini, that first time I gave you one– this one is good, it’s more than good, this one is perfhm–”
Joe kissed you.
Got you square on the mouth.
Shocked you right into silence.
It only lasted maybe two seconds before Joe pulled back and gave you a sort of wild look. Breathed all heavily. Still had a tea towel pressed to your collarbone. To your cleavage.
“I said... I’m sorry, all right?”
You didn’t even hear him say it. Just looked at his mouth and felt his hand still on the back of your neck where it held onto you firmly. Squeezed you there with his fingers.
“The drink was good,” Joe confirmed somewhat sternly, like he’d told you before already and you hadn’t been able to accept the compliment.
Silly.
As if it mattered at all that the drink you’d mixed him was any good.
You’d moved onto different things now, and couldn’t take your eyes of Joe’s lips. You felt heat rise up from the tips of your toes right into your face. Joe shouldn’t have done that. He tasted of martini. The drink you’d mixed for him. Had his sleeves wet with. Had his chin still damp with.
You were meant to close the bar.
To tidy and clean and get everything ready for the next day.
You were meant to turn off all the equipment, were meant to get the key from the register and lock up properly and leave it in the postbox.
Were meant to tell Martin the next day that James and Chloé had let you close by yourself and, you know our regular, Joe? He helped you a little and it was all fine, see, because you’d done a good job.
You were meant to just do your job.
Were meant to just do the things you knew Martin would make you do them had he been in.
But... you did none of those things, did you?
You didn’t even listen to Joe who was about to tell you he would clean up his own mess, and he was sorry about kissing you, but you couldn’t stop talking and his hands were occupied, how else was he supposed to silence you, you know? His mistake, he said. That was his mistake.
Joe said he was sorry, but smiled and remained close, and so how were you to blame for leaning close to kiss him again?
You weren’t meant to be kissing Joe, the regular, behind the bar after hours.
You weren’t meant to get your hands around him and push him right into you while you accepted that his grip on you grew stronger as he deepened the kiss, got his tongue involved.
You weren’t meant to push Joe backwards and have him bump into the side where his elbow caught a bottle and smashed on the floor. You also weren’t meant to ignore that. Weren’t meant to step into the glass and spread whatever drink that was across the floor in wet footprints.
You weren’t meant to do any of what happened after either.
But they happened regardless of if they were meant to happen or not and you let yourself get swept up and away. That was your mistake.
You fished the key from the register without having another look at the state of the place. Left the music playing and rushed up the stairs together, arms climbing into coats, grabby hands reaching for waists to make hips clash together.
Joe knocked one of Frank’s stools over, nearly let it clatter down the stairs. His mistake.
You let Joe feel you up, hands slipping into your coat and under your shirt as you tried to lock up. You let yourself be pushed up against the door when you fumbled too long with the key. Managed to eventually lock it and then let it slip into your pocket, force of habit. Your mistake.
Found your way to your flat which, fortunately or unfortunately, depending on from which angle you approached the current situation, was close enough to not let the realization of what you were actually doing sink in too much.
You remained full of giggles, full of pushes and pulls and you wanted to bite him because who the fuck did Joe think he was?
You’d tried your hardest, for literal weeks, to keep your job. To make it past the trial period. To impress Martin. To not step on anyone’s toes.
You were meant to mix the perfect dirty martini and impress Joe and thus impress Martin.
Do your job is essentially what it came down to. You were meant to do your job.
What you were not meant to do, was wake up to the ringing of your phone with another person occupying more than half the bed.
You were not meant to answer in the groggiest of voices and be asked by an incredibly monotone voice if you’d had fun the night before.
It took you a second to wake up.
To understand what Martin was asking.
To recognize that the heavy naked limbs of the person in your space was Joe.
The regular with the snarky comments and the cocky smirks. Martin’s friend from the bar who never fucking paid for anything because apparently, he was above that, gross, you wanted to retch.
“Oh fuck…” you groaned when the penny dropped.
“I expect you here to fix this mess yourself.”
“Yes,” you slung back the covers, revealed your naked body to the room and immediately pulled your duvet back over you again. “Yes, of course.”
“In 10 minutes.”
Fuck.
---
The Taglisted
@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @chrissymjstan, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo
taglist currently full, sorry
#Joe Quinn#Joseph Quinn#Joe Quinn x You#Joseph Quinn x You#Joe Quinn x Reader#Joseph Quinn x Reader#Joe Quinn Fanfic#Joe Quinn fanfiction#Joseph Quinn Fanfic#Joseph Quinn Fanfiction#joe quinn x y/n#joseph quinn x y/n#icallhimjoey#mistaken not stirred
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