#or Sunday at some ungodly hour

[martyrlamb]

✶ when the clock strikes / leon kennedy

pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: you’re starting to think a certain agent might be faking his injuries to see you.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, a bit of angst as a treat, love at first sight basically, silly workplace love story, nurse!reader, 1 year post re4r!leon, no use of y/n, extremely mildly passively suggestive, leon takes his shirt off twice (woohoo!), kissing, swearing, leon is awkward as hell, you are too though so it’s okay, description of bruises, cuts and a muscle knot (not detailed), medical talk, slight mention of gore and blood, reader has a backstory, reader has a mother.

note: i blinked and suddenly there were 8k words in my doc idek how that happened. im actually so nervous to post because this is my first one shot ever!! my cherry has been popped… but also apologies if things are kind of all over the place bc im still trying to get the swing of it all. trying to write in the present tense was like being beat over the head repeatedly so im sure theres many grammatical mistakes in that department

word count: 8.5k (got possessed sorry)

Everyone thought you were crazy when you accepted the offer. 

It is crazy—but you aren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into a long time ago as a nurse; people get hurt, and then you save them. Clockwork.

Years ago, you started studying to be a nurse in some middle of nowhere midwestern school. You remembered the rolling hills and the ungodly heavy blankets of snow that fell during the winter months, the fallen leaves that the snow covered. It was all so peaceful for a while… until the outbreak.

You never saw it coming, no one did, really. At least, you hope no one predicted the atrocities that were about to be witnessed by thousands of innocents without warning.

Gnashing teeth and hands with dried blood that streaked down arms like veins plagued the memory of that point in your life. It was surreal to believe that you got up that morning and made your breakfast like any other day, you slid your shoes on and grabbed your keys, and then your foot hit the front porch and the trajectory of your life changed permanently. 

The virus started as a woman with red-ringed eyes and pallid skin that reflected off of the blinding overhead lights—she looked visibly ill. That’s all that mattered at the time. You were actually the one who situated her and her husband in their room, he smiled at you and thanked you for your time and you scribbled down notes before hanging the clipboard and leaving the room for the doctor. The screeching horror music plays when you get to this part of the memory.

A type of calm before the storm. You hold your breath every time.

A few hours later people started screaming, and someone—something ran out of that room and wrenched its grip on the first person it saw. Blue scrubs dyed a nasty crimson, like crushed raspberries on cloth. The next part is a blur of running, watching your coworkers die, and using your medical expertise to help anyone who needed it. People were hurt. You saved them.

Like you said, clockwork. You try not to think about it too hard.

By the time help came, you had cramped a large handful of survivors—albeit, injured survivors—into a small house that was a mile or two from the hospital. Your quick thinking protected many people that day, and your skills were recognized.

A week prior, you were a simple nursing student who was lucky enough to be placed in a hospital, and by the next Sunday, you were being offered a position as a medic with the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. You finished your schooling, you got your specialized training, and now you’re on your way to your first assignment out of the country.

So, granted, maybe you are a little crazy for accepting such a prestigious and dangerous position after your humble beginnings. Your mother never ceases to remind you of this, with what little information you were allowed to tell her.

Iceland? she said, pulling her lips into a line. Are you crazy?

You begin to think that you are now that you stand in front of the base, arms tucked around yourself and teeth chattering as a sergeant points you around like one of his troops. Between the hustle and bustle of agents hurrying around and the amount of civilians sitting beneath the large, brown medical tent, you understand why they needed all the help they could get.

Things in Iceland were bad apparently; Umbrella thought the remote location would protect what little was left of them, and their research, from being exposed. Unfortunately for them, (and fortunately for everyone else) the AUPIT caught wind of what was happening and vowed to put a stop to it. You, freshly out of training, were sent to help with the sudden influx of displaced non-combatants and wounded agents.

Within the hour of the helicopter landing, you settle in and pull your cold weather scrubs on. 

There aren’t many other nurses—only two—and neither of them seem to be very fond of you. The head nurse is older and straight-laced, following procedure, not mingling with you unless she has to. You don’t think you’re ever going to be put on a shift with the other nurse, but they spare you a few ireful glances. It’s  like they could smell the fresh blood, and the scent made them turn their noses.

Nonetheless, you weren’t there to socialize, so you rolled up your sleeves and did your job, trying to ignore the passive aggressive looks being thrown at you from left and right. This kind of mutual ignorance worked for about three days, until you were placed on the night shift… every single night. 

Before you came along, it was determined that the night shift could be manned by one person, as injured civilians were sent to the safehouses by nightfall and nearly all of the agents were either out on work or taking a much needed rest. There was no reason for both nurses to be awake when one could conserve their energy and rest while the other worked. So, most nights you spent alone, sitting by the fire in the back of the tent as you waited for the sun to come up.

One of those nights crept up on you again. You bounce your foot against the ground until your ankle aches, sitting in a lawn chair next to the fire with a wool blanket draped over your shoulders. Nothing chirps in the distance like the environment you’re used to, the only noises that float through the air are the wind rustling bare-armed bushes and your own breathing. There was a rip in the tent whistling, too, but you’d be damned if you let the incessant noise drive you insane. You were scared of the eerie silence for the first few days, but that quickly became replaced by the complete boredom that followed it.

You blow a raspberry as you spin a pen in your ungloved hand, fingers numb and stretched stiff with cold. I’ve ought to ask someone for a book, you thought to yourself, or a new job. You immediately push the second contemplation out of your head like it was something dirty and sat up a little straighter; your annoyance made sense, but this is what you wanted to do with your life. You want to help people in need.

Not that there were many people around.

In the distance, like divine intervention, you hear the crackle of wheels against snow, and a black mini-van rolls to a stop in front of the tent. A scuffle inside ensues for a moment, then the doors open and a man comes hobbling into the shelter with his arm over another man’s shoulder. 

You nearly fall out of your seat with how fast you stand up and stride over to the men, assisting the injured one onto a cot. 

“What happened?” you ask, pushing a cart of equipment to his bedside.

The uninjured one remarks from beside you, “Some snow gave way and he went down this hill with some pretty nasty bushes at the bottom.” His voice is quick and clicky. He looks young.

Clearly, they’re two agents, judging by the leather holsters strapped around their waists and shoulders. You purse your lips and place a lantern on the cart, gently inspecting the injured agent. There’s thorns lodged along the entirety of his left side, looking a bit like a child’s crude attempt at art with toothpicks and styrofoam.

He grunts when you gently lift his arm to check underneath, and you mutter an apology before you turn to the other agent. “I can take this from here.”

The agent nods and spins on his heel, disappearing into the darkness once he stepped out into the open air. 

You turn your attention towards the man in front of you and pull on a pair of gloves, the latex makes a sharp snapping noise when you let go. His intense gaze follows your movements with great intrigue—or suspicion… you couldn’t really tell. You pick up a pair of tweezers and set them on the cart. You also finally got a good look at the wounded agent.

Blue eyes that strike down what little defenses you have and brows that spend their time permanently creased, almost erasing the space between them while he inspects you. His ability to make you feel thoroughly grilled with a simple fixated stare would have made you squirm years prior, but now you merely stare back with your eyebrows lifted. The blonde—possibly light brown haired, the darkness didn’t give much way in the form of colour—man averts his eyes first, as if he is caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive, but that’s not your focus right now.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, flicking on a flashlight to check his pupils. Healthy, good. He squints at you through the beam.

“Like I fell into a thorn bush.”

Looks like someone feels funny. You deadpan at him, unamused with the sarcasm while you try to help. Your expression beckons a better answer and he backpedals.

The man’s head bobs subtly, like a scale in his mind is weighing his thoughts on either side, and then he says, “I’m just fine.”

“Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” you reply, blowing out a not-so-inconspicuous huff of annoyed air that swirls above you in the cold. The agent raises his brow at your reaction but doesn’t seem too keen on speaking on it. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but it’s going to be a lot of poking and prodding.”

He lets out another grunt that could have possibly been an Mhm… but you aren’t sure. You hold the tweezers between your fingers and begin to pluck them out, placing them on the metal pan on your cart. Clink, clink, clink. They fall from the tweezers with tiny noises.

To your surprise, he doesn’t writhe or make much noise, only occasional grunts and sighs and Shit’s under his breath when you pull at particularly deep thorns lodged in his arm. 

Even for an agent, his arms are an impressive size, which means a lot more surface area to extract from. Not that you really mind, as you would have helped him either way, but surely you would feel differently if you were in his shoes.

However, the silence is… awkward; sitting there with your face inches from his huge arms—he could definitely feel your breath fan across the surface with how his skin dances with warmth and goosebumps and you do not want the attractive agent to focus on that. So, you break it with a question.

“You weren’t wearing a jacket?” A valid query, all things considered.

He blinks at you like it was obvious. “It came off.”

“Oh,” is all you say until you extract the last thorn from his arm and begin to slide the leather shoulder holster off of him. “I just need to take this off.”

He frowns slightly, and you realize his brows had been furrowed this whole time because that was all his face seemed to know how to do. When his expression changes, you stop.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Taking it off so I can look under your sleeve.”

“Why?”

“You could’ve pulled something and I need to bandage you,” you pause. “Is that okay?”

Maybe you wrongly assumed that he had done this a million times. Don’t get you wrong, you know how resilient agents had to be and how good they were at their jobs, so it isn’t like you thought he got hurt often… But with a short glance into his eyes, you could tell he’s a hardened delegate with years of experience under his belt. Wasn’t he bound to need help occasionally?

The man gives you a slight nod and shrugs off the holster; it falls to the bed with a soft thud from the weight of the knife tucked into the leather. 

His muscles tense under your fingers when you roll the black sleeve over his shoulder. The feathered, pale edge of a bullet scar peeks out from beneath the dark clothing and it makes you wonder how he managed to get it. A mission? Probably. It looks old. You’ve seen scars of all kinds at that point, and each of them held a story that ended in pierced flesh. 

They remind you that they will never not be where they came from—your own scars will never not be where they came from. You shake the thought out like a stubborn rock in your shoe.

“Lucky you, it doesn’t look like you pulled anything in your shoulder,” you comment under your breath.

“If this is luck, I’d like to see what happens when I get unlucky.” For the first time, there’s humor in his tone—so faint you nearly miss it, but it makes you chuckle. When he isn’t huffing out responses, his voice almost sounds kind.

You rotate his shoulder slowly and inspect the length of his side, finding fewer thorns than the amount anchored in his arm. Still, your lips press into a line, pitying the fact that his bare skin will be exposed to the frigid, below-freezing air so you could remove them.

“Well, you should’ve knocked on wood,” you reply, “I’ll need you to take your shirt off so I can get the rest of the thorns out and check your ribs.”

Silently, the man hikes his shirt up and over his ribs for you, snaking his arm out of his sleeve and then laying on his side. 

As he comes down, stretching, he groans. You see his muscles tense under his skin when he inhales, the dips and divots of his torso flex involuntarily when the squall of air nips at his newly exposed skin. The surface holds blossoms of red and deep purple that litter themselves across his ribs like splotches of messy watercolor dripped onto paper. Scarlet scratches bleed pebbles that drip onto the fabric of the cot. 

You suck in through your teeth as you inspect the area. Even without the damage from the thorns, it doesn’t look good.

“Not good?” the agent questions as if he could read your mind. From over his shoulder, he turna his head to look at you.

“Not good. You bruised your ribs, I’d be surprised if one of them wasn’t broken.”

“I didn’t hear a crack.”

“It should be monitored for a day or two, at the very least.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Look, I understand—“

“I’ll be fine.”

You sigh softly and remove one of your gloves to rub your face in exasperation. Unfortunately, this wasn’t your first rodeo with stubborn patients, so you slide on another glove and begin to pluck at the thorns in his torso. “You won’t be doing much work if you permanently damage them.”

He twists his head away from you again and grunts softly, muttering a short, “Okay.”

How articulate. You guess he doesn’t get paid to talk to people.

“Okay? As in…?”

“As in, fine,” he replies, then pauses for a moment as if to prove a point. “But I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You laugh at this, then stifle it into your elbow so he didn’t think you were laughing at him. He still rolls over a little to look at you, confusion laces his eyes that dart around as they go from your face to the rows of empty cots behind you. Busy? You begin to laugh again.

He can’t be serious, you think as you fan your face. You let your laughter dissipate like it was being dissolved into water. “Sorry… no, you’re right,” you snort, “I was drowning in work before you arrived, agent.”

“I’m sure,” he chirps back, the ghost of a smile haunts his lips.

“I think I can squeeze you in, though. Might have to clear some of my schedule, but… I’ll make it work.”

The pleased look that graces your face is involuntary. You find it endearing how worried he is about becoming too much extra work for you and the other nurses, despite the fact that there isn’t any reason to gather that he would and—believe it or not—it’s your job. 

The agent lets out an amused breath through his nose. “Should I be flattered?”

“Oh, of course.”

You place the last of the thorns onto the metal pan and tend to his wounds with gauze and bandages and nimble fingers that have done this hundreds of times before. Sometime along the way his body relaxed—just a little—and you think he fell asleep until he sits up like a puppet that had his strings yanked and puts his shirt on properly.

The sudden movement makes you blink, and he stares at you for a long pause filled with dead air and an expectant look in his eyes. That damn rip in the tent whistles. 

Finally, his eyes flicker down to your badge, then back to your face. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I started here not too long ago,” you inform him honestly, a little embarrassed to admit your newbie title to a seasoned employee of the organization.

He doesn’t say anything else, so you take the reins.

“Well, I think we’re set,” you say, rolling the latex gloves off of your hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Agent…”

You never asked him his name?

“Leon Kennedy,” the agent, now with the name Leon Kennedy pinned to his face, finishes for you. 

His name twirls around your head and makes you dizzy to think about. I should have known, you think to yourself once he bids you farewell to report to his superiors. 

From what little time you spent at the base prior to meeting Leon, you had heard whispers during dinner drift from mouth to ear of the elusive agent. That he was a man of few words (immense understatement, you consider it more socially awkward, but true); that he had half of the base swooning every time he walked by (you don’t want to comment on this); and that he was immensely attractive (that is also true). You have to admit… you see why he had such an air of intrigue around him. To be so quiet after such successes he’s accomplished—people were on the edge of their seats trying to figure him out.

You also had to admit that you weren’t immune to it either. 

During your meals and breaks you found yourself playing Where’s Waldo? with Leon, attempting to catch glimpses of him in his natural state to confirm or deny these claims. Which was impressively difficult for absolutely no reason other than that he did it for his own benefit… the motive for this was lost, and still is, on you.

The few times you did spot him, he had the same clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows. He never stayed in the same place for very long and frequently you only spotted him—or rather, his broad shoulders and white-knuckled fists as they turned corners and disappeared to do whatever he did all day. Important agent things.

Regarding your coworkers… it hadn’t improved much, either. The head nurse, who you later learned was named Winona, loosened up on you a bit—which was practically nothing when both she and the other nurse had been so cold to begin with. However, your determination to help those around you seemed to impress her… most days.

(Peeks of Leon’s ashy blonde hair stolen from cracks in the tent. His fur-lined coat hangs off of his sizable frame, enveloping his arms in the thick fabric—it makes them look even bigger. Not that you care, per say, but—

“You aren’t getting paid to stalk agents,” Winona jeers, jolting you back to Earth from your subject of stolen attention. You swear she smiles at you wryly. “Should’ve tried for one of their jobs if you wanted to do that.”

She turns on her heel and goes over to a trio of injured civilians with her cart, the knot of hair tied taut at the base of her neck stares you in the face. You’re left hot faced and embarrassed for the entirety of the next check-up with your patient.)

The endless night shifts never seem to cease rolling in and you’re afraid it’s begun to catch up on you. By the end of breakfast, when you could finally drag your corpse-like body to your quarters and into your bed, your head drooped comically into your bowl of oatmeal and some of the newer agents had a blast laughing at you. Whatever, assholes.

(You were deeply embarrassed.)

So, you opted for allowing a short nap in here and there during your shift—ten minutes at most—whenever your eyelids began to feel itchy and weighted and you couldn’t help but close them. You really couldn’t. Being sat by the fire with a hot drink made you so warm and the sounds of blowing wind lulled you to sleep in the darkness under the moon.

Truly, a terrible work performance from you, but no one was around to see and surely you’d be awoken by even a hint of an emergency. 

Tonight, you count sheep with your wool blanket tucked up to your chin and your head lolls against your shoulder like it’s about to fall off its hinges. One, two, three. They mock you as they hop into their pasture and curl up into white, fluffy spheres, falling asleep within the warmth of their home. 

From a distance, your ears almost register the sound of footsteps that approach the tent, crushing the crunchy top layer of snow under their feet as they stop in the entrance. It isn’t enough to completely wake you until they clear their throat and say, “Hello?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head so fast you think it might go flying across the room. Really smooth of you, considering Leon is the one to get your attention. By the smug look on his face and slight chuckle that wracks his frame, you know he isn’t fooled with your act awake performance.

He stands there, towering and rigid, unlike the night you first met him, with his palm outstretched flat like he’s trying to show the world something. 

“Oh, hey, what do you need?” you reply quickly, standing from your chair as you let your blanket fall off of you.

Leon glances at his hand and then at you. “I, uh, got a papercut.”

“A paper cut,” you repeat, just to make sure you heard him right.

“Yeah.”

You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape as his words register as something he was actually saying to you.

“Well, get comfortable, then. I’ll patch you up.”

In reality, you’re terribly confused about a special forces agent needing first aid for a paper cut, but how could you complain? He needs help and you’re there to offer it. 

The blonde sits on a cot near the fire—not before picking up your blanket from the ground and placing it back on the chair, though—and you situate yourself on a stool facing him. 

You take Leon’s hand in yours gently and inspect the wound. It’s fairly shallow, but placed in the center of the webbed skin between his index finger and thumb. Tough spot. When your digits graze his rough knuckles he inhales sharply and you glance at him due to the sudden motion.

He doesn’t expect a reaction from you because he pauses for a second then asks, “You think I’ll live?”

“I dunno,” you answer, sucking your teeth. “Could be a close call.”

“Yeesh.”

“I know. My condolences.”

“For myself?”

“Uh-huh.” You turn his hand over so his palm faced the sky. “This’ll sting.”

When you disinfect the injury, Leon’s face twitches into itself but he keeps quiet, opting to focus his gaze on your face while you patch him up. You try not to shift under the intensity.

“What made you want to do this?” he queries, his voice cuts through the silence and startles you a bit. Leon looks pleased with himself and you roll your eyes.

“You’ll laugh.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s corny.”

Admittedly, it was—the original story as to why you wanted to be a nurse. You’ve had people laugh at it before and you mostly don’t want to repeat history with someone you find rather charming, but something in Leon’s face softens and he shakes his head briefly. 

“Try me,” he challenges.

“Oh, fine.” Like there was a fight put up when you relent, smoothing a bandaid over his cut. “You know those things you’d fill out as a kid? Where it’s like, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Leon nods.

“Every single time, I would write superhero,” you laugh sourly because you got used to other people laughing when you said this, but he listens as if you’re the only sound he’s ever heard. “I’d draw myself with a little cape and all that. Then at a certain age the teachers start telling you, pick a real job, pick something that exists. And, I dunno, I thought: there are real superheroes. They save people every day because they want to.”

“I mean, I always knew I didn’t have all the right assets to be the one rescuing people from burning buildings and punching the bad guys. I wanted to help people when they couldn’t help themselves, you know? I can't carry the weight of the situation—it’s just not in my nature—but I can carry them. That’s why I started doing this, I guess.”

The look he gives you when you finish speaking is indescribable. He gazes deeply into your face like he’s trying to find a new feature he missed the first time. Something akin to pulling apart your mind with his eyes as if it’s clay made for the shaping and a load of a melancholy that’s too heavy for him; like he’s asking you, how do I carry it? Tell me how to carry something like that. 

Your hand still lingers in his, over the bandaid you placed on him; you slide yours so the curves of your thumbs interlock and you grip the hilt of his palm. A hidden embrace.

Leon’s eyes dart toward your hands and he makes no effort to remove you from his grasp, his fingers relax against your wrist. He feels your heartbeat. You feel his. When he looks up again, all he sees are your eyes. 

You don’t know why you went on that anecdote in the first place, not really. Only that you were finished patching him up and wanted—needed—him to linger for a bit longer.

“What about you?” you ask, voice hushed close to nothing.

“I wanted to help people, too.” He sounds uncharacteristic—sheepish? “That’s it… I can’t follow up with something as articulate as you.”

“It matters just as much even if you can’t express it,” you assure him, your head tilts. 

Leon clears his throat and nods, slipping his hand from yours and looking anywhere that isn’t you. You created a shadow in front of his face, back facing the fire, but you can see the subtle dark tinge of his cheeks when he avoids your eyes. He chooses to look at his feet. There he goes, being endearing again, you think.

The harsh edges of his face are lit up with an orange glow, darkness shoots somewhere in between in a soft gradient, and he looks positively ethereal. If you reached out and cupped his face, you know it would be warm to the touch like laundry right out of the dryer. It makes him look all the more delicate and this feels more natural than the pointed looks and pinched expressions he usually wears.

You look back down at his hands. You’re trying to memorize the way they felt against yours (coarse and hot to the touch) and you get the picture of how hopeless you are—even an idiot could see you have a crush on him. 

That doesn’t stop you from protecting your pride and you keep it to yourself. You stand up to put the disinfectant supplies and box of bandaids away without a word. 

Leon stares at his hand like it’s missing a piece.

You have your head buried too deep into the cabinet to think much about that. Screaming at yourself was an understatement for what you’re doing in your head… a better description would be begging the floor to swallow you entirely with one gulp.

Surely, Leon has someone at home. He’s an attractive, intelligent man with an arguably stable job that pays him oodles more than he would ever need; not to mention how well-built he is, but again, for what seems like the millionth time you push this thought to the back of your mind. You could not focus on that.

“Are you okay?” his voice carries from the cot.

You take a moment’s breather and shut the cabinet door. “I’m good. How are your ribs?”

“They’re good.” Leon pauses, then adds. “Thanks.”

The shake of your head comes faster than your words; muscle memory. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You do a good job.”

“I’m just a medic.”

“A good one.”

As you utter your gratitude for his comment, you hope he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your face from so far away. You weren’t one to get shy from such simple words, but you find your eyes glued to your boots because of his gentle bonniness. Damn you, you curse at him in your head—it held no weight.

The blonde stands from the cot and walks over to you. He bends slightly to catch your eyes in his. “I have to go now, but... yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, Agent Kennedy.”

“Don’t start using formalities now,” he half-laughs, half-breathes. His face contorts when he stretches back, and his hand came up to massage his right shoulder—you even go to comment on this movement, being a medic and all, but he beats you to it with a smirk. “Stick with Leon.”

And then, in a few strides, he’s gone as fast as he came. 

Your entire body deflates when you let out a guttural sigh. How come every time you watched his back, you were left reeling?

Unfortunately for you, that blasted man had ingrained himself into your head, sitting pretty in your thoughts as snug as a bug in a rug while you tried to do your job, or attempted to focus on anything other than your feelings for him. On the contrary, he returned to clearing out Umbrella facilities for the time being, which meant he was out of the base for days, or even weeks, considering he was one of, if not, the best agent they had. This saved you from the embarrassment of being caught trying to catch glances of him from inside the tent or during meals. 

This, however, did not stop you from daydreaming when work got slow. 

You wondered how someone like Leon behaved domestically, if he was completely different outside of the AUPIT, or if he was still just the sweet, reserved man who needed your aid often. Did he have any pets? What music did he listen to? You guess you’d have to ask him later, but you imagined that the pieces would fall into place and suit him. They’d be so perfectly Leon that when he told you, you would think to yourself, huh, why didn’t I think of that?

The amount of daydreaming you did was not lost on Winona, and occasionally she snapped her fingers in front of your face and grumbled under her breath, “I’ll kill that boy.” With no real threat to her tone. 

Please, you can’t help it. He has arms with the muscle definition of a god and he told you-you were a good medic; you were a goner before you even realized it.

On the other hand, your family never let up with their pleas for you to return home, despite the fact that it simply wasn’t possible unless you had a very good reason for it. Which you didn’t, and you didn’t want to—people just didn’t get it through their heads that, yes, your job was difficult, and yes, patients got on your nerves sometimes, but no, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. This meant more to you than anything else you could fathom. You knew the fear these people felt first-hand, and you knew they needed a saving grace; just like you had.

(“Just come home,” your mother coos into the phone, her voice static-y and chopped from the poor signal. You could imagine her face right now, all worried and exhausted like you’re a child balancing on a wet playground. “There’s a hospital not too far from here… I’m sure they’d take you.

You promptly spend the next hour explaining to her that it isn’t that simple, even if you wanted to, and you remind her every few minutes that you aren’t going to leave, either. You’re happy, all things considered; which is why you make the executive decision to leave out all of the bad parts of your work so far.)

As for the efforts against Umbrella, you hear whispers of successes during dinners and fewer agents appeared at the medical tent’s door in need of assistance than when you arrived. So, you think things are going rather well for your organization. Less tired eyes and solemn faces; the fight wasn’t over, but everyone could rest a little easier with every night that passed. 

And yet, those damned night shifts. You swear Winona and that other medic were scheming against you for no reason other than pure spite, on the basis of simply because they didn’t feel like doing it. It has to be funny to them by now, seeing you half-asleep at breakfast and looking all mussed at dinner because you woke up ten minutes prior. You let them laugh all they wanted because frankly, you began to enjoy the night shifts. The world went to sleep, and you enjoyed some peace and quiet.

You kick your feet up onto a stool and drape a blanket over your legs, book in hand. The soft sounds of Icelandic pop music crackles out of the radio and floats throughout the tent. You mouth the noises of the songs, unsure of the lyrics, but you’ve heard it so often by now, you could recognize the tune from the first few beats. You scat a few of the instruments, tapping your foot along. You don't notice the figure that stopped in the doorframe. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Leon. You shut your book and turn to look at him, embarrassed. “I always feel like I’m coming at a bad time.”

“Never,” you reply with a haste that humbles you further. Worried about his sudden appearance in the medical tent after being gone on agent duties for nearly two weeks, you ask, “Are you okay?”

The corners of his mouth upturn and you barely see a flash of uneven teeth between the slit it creates, cute. This distracts you from how smug his face is. “I think I have a fever.”

“A fever this time?”

“Yep.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Leon.” 

A paper cut, then a fever. You begin to think of his inability to soothe his minor maladies as an excuse to visit the tent. Your stomach flutters at the thought, but you have to make sure… just in case he’d fallen ill out there in the cold. 

You find the thermometer and placed it in his mouth gingerly. It hangs crooked from the corner and he watches you with a certain keenness that makes you smile. After a few minutes, you check his temperature: 98.7. An amused hum escapes your lips without meaning to.

“Dying?” 

“I don’t think you have a fever,” you answer, using the back of your hand to press against his forehead and cheeks. The first cheek is cold, then the left cheek warms under your skin—Leon’s expression falls bashful. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were looking for reasons to come see me.”

It’s his turn to hum in thought. “Maybe.”

“You could just come talk to me.”

“You’re on the clock,” the blonde reminds you, grunting. In a swift movement, his hand presses into the curve of his neck and he rotates his right shoulder, face straining.

You see an opening. “That I am. What was that?”

“What?”

“Your shoulder.”

“I was stretching.”

“Does it hurt?”

Leon grumbles a response under his breath, unimpressed that you might have found something you could actually treat him for. You raise your brows. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“Agent Kennedy.”

He pretends not to hear you.

“Leon.”

“Fine,” he gripes like a child being forced to get a shot and maneuvers to lay his stomach flat on the cot, his back faces toward the ceiling. He takes off his brown, fur-lined jacket and discards it onto the next cot over. You get a whiff of musk and cinnamon from the breeze it makes.

The shirt that clings to him left nothing to the imagination—a tight, black compression shirt stretches snugly over his muscles. You spread your fingers like fans to warm them up, then begin to run them over his shoulder and along the meat of his back. 

You tsk, full of knots. This man needs a masseuse. You make a mental note to refer him to a good one you knew. 

With the issue at hand, though, you find an impressive knot in his shoulder, which is likely the cause of his discomfort. 

You huff, your work cut out for you. “There’s a big knot in your shoulder, Leon. How are you living like this?”

“I wake up and roll out of bed.”

“I need to get this out.”

Leon turns his head, his cheek presses to the cot. He gives you a look that says nothing short of, are you serious?  You smile as sweetly as you can at him, an attempt to coax him. To your surprise, he averts his gaze fast and relents. The blonde agent sits up and shrugs his shirt off. It’s tossed next to his jacket.

Under the fire light and the dim glow of lanterns that hang in a line down the center of the tent, strings attached to the ceiling, you see the way chills prickle over the surface of his skin. Goosebumps, like rolled carpets being kicked open, unfurl down his arms rapidly and he lays down on his stomach once again. 

Your face burns in the dark—you’d be surprised if you aren’t glowing like one of those lanterns from the amount of heat it exudes.

You use a dollop of skin cream to keep the area relaxed and pliable as you work out the knot with your fingers. You push it in the right direction until you got it in a better spot, then you knead it firmly. It crackles within his body.

“Fuck…” he groans in relief, nestling his head into the fabric of the cot as he sighs. “They teach you massages in nursing school?”

“That might be just a learned from life thing,” you state in total honesty. You wipe the excess lotion from your hands on a rag. 

Curiously, he peers at you from the corner of his eye. “You have someone back home you do that to?”

A laugh falls from your lips, though your face feels even hotter than before (if that is even possible). “No—not at all.”

Leon lets out a pleasant hum and sit up from the cot. Good, he says without saying it. 

He snatches his shirt and tugs it over his head; you pretend to make yourself busy so you have somewhere other to look than at him. You hear him sigh with great reprieve as he rolls his shoulder back and forth, it must’ve felt like a freshly oiled hinge.

He comes up behind you, his shoulder skims the back of your neck when he peers down at what you were doing on the counter. Which is a whole lot of nothing; moving cotton swabs from one container to the other, counting how many rolls of gauze you had left for the hundredth time. Mindless hand ministrations to distract you from the heart that pounds in your chest.

“Is this what you do all night?” he questions, mildly amused.

“Sometimes.”

“Must be glad I showed up.”

“Something like that,” you tease, glancing up at him with a coy smile.

You watch his withstraint break a little inside of him. He inhales sharply, losing the words you said somewhere between your eyes and your lips—he couldn’t focus with your faces so close to each other and neither could you. Leon reaches for the hand that rested on the other side of you and drags you in between him and the counter, twirling you to face him. Then he pauses and appears lost, like he doesn’t know which way is left and right.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do, you think. You don’t really know either, so you go on about what you do know.

“You should probably use kinesiology tape on your shoulder,” you comment, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of all of your limbs. His eyes don’t leave your lips. You’d be a liar if you say yours left his.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

The man’s body heat radiates off of him and it’s magnetic, pulling you closer, away from the bitter cold. Your breath hitches. His hand hovers over the curve of your neck, then it decides to rest on the side of your jaw, thumb pressed against your flushed cheek. You remember the texture of his warm palm, coarse and calloused from years of wear.

You try to memorize every fine line and crease that scuffs your face as he beckons you to close the gap with the slight tilt of his head. I’d make a terrible agent, my resilience is slim to none, you theorize when your body moves before your mind does. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath traces your cupid’s bow. You close the distance enough that your lips graze each other until someone clears their throat from a few feet away.

Winona stands like a judgmental statue, thin brows raise expectantly. You, and Leon, jump away from each other. It rocks the counter with a loud clatter that echoes. 

“Agent Kennedy,” she acknowledges him first as a sign of respect. He nods back awkwardly. “You two look like you’re  enjoying yourselves.”

Neither of you talk for a moment and you find  yourself desperate to create any word that could explain what that was. Leon’s eyes dart around the room.

Finally, something solid comes to your tongue. “I’m sorry.”

And then she laughs in both of your faces. Her hand waves like it’s fanning your words away from getting inhaled. You and Leon glance at each other, brows knit in honest confusion.

“Kids,” she exhales. “Stop distracting my medic, Kennedy.”

Then he speaks, but it sounds more like a nervous cough. “Yes, ma’am.”

Winona shoos him with a gesture of her wrinkled hand and he musters a sheepish, apologetic smile for you as he hurries away from the tent. You don’t make much of an effort to move as you prepare your ego for the chew out it’s about to receive.

“And you. Try to keep the fraternization out of the tent.” With that, she continues past you to search through some files, snickering to herself and shaking her head.

You aren’t about to push your luck. You get to keep your job and ego intact, and that’s enough for you. So, you whisper a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.” And go on with your day.

The encounter with Leon left you feverish and all tingly in every limb whenever it crossed your mind over the following days. You saw him out and about around the base, and during meals he offered you frail waves that faded in a breath. 

Truth was, you’re too afraid of rejection to ask him about that night—go figure. Maybe you’re a cliche. Maybe you’re both cliches. Who cares? Well, you do, and you thought the ruffled, pink-tinted expressions on Leon’s face whenever you crossed paths meant that he did, too, but neither of you made a move to approach the other. You questioned if you would rather be told that his only plans for you was a short work fling with no strings attached, or if he felt the connection that you did. A terrible predicament, really, and soon your desire for a straight answer outweighed the fear of hearing something you didn’t like. 

When you went to find him in the meal tent, sitting alone in one of the back corners, he wasn’t there. Okay. You waited, then decided to check the nooks and crannies of the base where you knew he hung around, and nothing. Leon vanished into thin air the moment you gathered enough courage to speak to him. Somehow you thought he read your mind and planned for this to happen, just to be able to tease you without being present. But that was simply ridiculous. He had to go to work, just like you had to do yours.

A week went by, then two; no sign of Leon’s reappearance cropped up and you began to worry you wouldn’t get the chance to speak to him at all. The only reminder that soothed you was the fact that you knew the organization was on the home stretch for completely wiping Umbrella’s power in Iceland. This reassured you for many reasons. Mainly, that you’d be able to sleep in your bed again at a proper time that didn’t leave you exhausted; but you also found comfort in the idea of finally getting a word with the blonde agent that clung to your brain like a disease once everything was over. 

Of course, you had fleeting thoughts that he died and you’d forever be left wondering about what could have been. But, that was just ridiculous—he’s Leon Kennedy, the agent that saved the president’s daughter from certain death. So, you chalked it up to your anxiety being built up as doubt about the succession of the mission began to be put to an end. That yes, you would all return home soon, and no nothing terrible and tragic would happen just as you were about to win.

Eventually, you all received the verdict of the mission. Success. The sun shone through the clouds brighter that day, in ribbons of gold that elevated all of your senses to something dreamlike. Another catastrophe prevented. More people saved—clockwork. To say you were pleased with the conclusion of your first ever out of country operation would be an understatement; you were ecstatic. 

Still, you find yourself fretting over that thing with Leon as you help pack up the equipment in the medical tent.

Winona, who has grown increasingly engrossed in your love life, gives you a knowing look when your lips tug downward and you send a pointed glance toward the entrance of the tent for the tenth time in the last hour. She tsks and shakes her head. It gains your attention. 

“Just talk to him,” she insists, shoving a couple boxes of bandaids into the case. She’s unimpressed with your antics and just wants you to get a move on. 

You sigh and preen your hair like he’ll walk in at any moment. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Hopeless,” she grumbles in response. “Hopeless. If you won’t do something about it, stop looking at the door like a kicked dog and help me.” Winona retreats further into the tent and you succumb enough to follow her.

You must glower the whole time because she won’t stop sending you dirty looks while she tapes the cardboard boxes with a tape gun. Her movements are threatening. You try to fix your expression when the line of spokes reflects off of the bright horizon outside the tent as it slices the tape.

After the innards of the tent are packed into a dozen or so boxes, you’re the person left to pick them up one by one and drop them off with the rest of the cargo that needs to be shipped. Your back is sore from the sorry excuses of beds you have and your arms ache from hours of cramming things. Kicking snow with each shuffled step, you heave out a lengthy sigh and pause to breathe. There’s a reason I’m not an agent.

“Need a hand?” Leon asks from behind you. You’re wondering how he’s always sneaking up on you.

Still, you nod and can’t help but be relieved. “Please.”

Like it’s filled with air, he takes the box from your hands and cocks a barely-there grin at your awed expression. Smug and content, he marches ahead with you in tow. You don’t really know what to say to him, if anything at all. 

You walk alongside him for the first time in the daylight, and you take in his features now that they aren’t muddled in the darkened firelight or blurred by distance. He’s chiseled, sunken cheeks and high cheekbones with that intense look on in his eyes—but there’s something else—boyish, is what you think. Soft jaw. Moles and freckles litter themselves across his face. 

Leon is beautiful and you would like to kiss him right now.

He stops at the drop off point, places the box next to the others and turns to you. Suddenly, he looks nervous and you feel some resolve escape your mind. He’s about to ask you something. He opens his mouth, rosy lips parting and you break—you pull him behind a tall stack of boxes and kiss him.

The collar of his jacket is clutched between your fingers in a moment and your lips are on his; the fur tickles your skin. His lips are chapped and cold but you create warmth within him, you could be a summer’s day in this frigid air. His hands come to your waist, then your hips and his fingertips make indents when he holds you tight like this was always supposed to happen. When you part, you’re both breathless.

He searches for his words again, the question he was going to ask. “Would you—dinner? On me.”

You hum in faux thought and peck him on the lips again, then again, and a third time for good measure. He smiles into the last one.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t start that by saying you stubbed your toe and needed my help.”

Leon chuckles. “I thought about it.”

He pulls you in again, tongue grazing your bottom lip. You lean in further, desperate for connection until you both go slipping like baby deer. The thin layer of snow on the ground left everything icy. He tumbles into some supplies and you land on top of him. You’re both laughing into each other’s mouths. You’re both happy.

You chime together, like clockwork.

#leon kennedy #resident evil 4 #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #re4r leon #re4 remake #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy oneshot #fluff #oneshot #resident evil fluff #nurse!reader #nurse!reader x leon kennedy #post re4r

[arminsumi]

Breakfast fluff

G. Satoru — さとる

NOTE : pls ignore errors i have neither slept nor proofread this 👍 i'm just craving breakfast so bad rn which is funny considering i hate cooking breakfast lol

SUMMARY — waking up to Gojo making breakfast and fussing over the kids on a typical Sunday

CONTENT — domestic fluff, just a wholesome morning with hubby Gojo

🍒 — J ⋅ reblogs and comments help a lot ! enjoy reading :)

It's a very early morning. The sunlight through the sheer curtains is soft. You take your time getting out of bed, soaking up the enjoyable softness of the blankets and pillows. Though you're quick to miss the warmth that you usually wake up to. Blinking awake and going into the bathroom, Satoru hears the soft thumping of your footsteps down the hallway and smiles to himself.

Satoru's not usually an early riser, in fact he usually stays in bed with you and locks an arm around your waist when you try to leave. But it's a Sunday morning, and Sunday mornings were special. Because it became a tradition to go down to the bustling market, clutching the week's savings in his hand, and buy thick bacon and eggs. The freshest kind.

You and Satoru were living in a bare bones apartment with sparse money, as two young "parents" with three tots under your wings. Somehow, you two made it work, even though there were struggles you smiled through them and never strayed from each other's sides. He'd often work the night shift, and come home at ungodly hours so tired that he melted into your body like a sick child, aching for your affectionate touch.

While you lazily carry out your morning routine in the other room, the kids crowd around Satoru as he stands in the kitchen — trying desperately to balance the chaos of entertaining Yuji, Nobara and Megumi while simultaneously cooking up breakfast.

And he cooks breakfast with such meticulousness. He considers it an art form. There's a remarkable swiftness in the way that he wields a kitchen knife to cut the bacon block into strips, and a talent in the way he cracks open eggs with one hand.

" Nobara, Yuji, what are you yelling about ? "

A little voice whined, " Nobara bit me ! "

" Nobara, don't bite Yuji. " Satoru lectured softly, eyes focused on the food cooking in the pan.

" I only did it because he tried to take your sweeties out of the pantry, dad ! " she reasoned.

" Don't eat my sweeties Yuji, you can have some later today — smell this ? Daddy's cooking up yummy breakfast so don't spoil your appetite, okay. You're gonna love it. "

The bacon and eggs crackle and pop in the oiled pan, sometimes so loudly that it makes Megumi jump in fright.

" Gumi, don't stand too close to the skillet. " Satoru warns, placing a hand on his head of messy bed hair and ruffling it, causing it to look even more unruly.

A steamy breakfast aroma wafts down the hallway and satisfyingly fills your lungs. You can hear the four of them chattering and Satoru's interspersed mini-lectures.

You look at them from the doorframe, Yuji and Nobara run out the other way into the interleading sitting room.

" Who's that peering 'round the corner ? " Satoru playfully teases, his voice bringing you warmth.

" Maaa. " Megumi groans and trots over to you, giving you as big of a hug as his little body could manage.

You comb your fingers through his hair, fixing up the mess that Satoru's previous ruffling caused — as usual.

And he flashes a look behind him at you, winking like a cheeky flirt. His smile is so big because of how purely happy the sight of you makes him; especially with that bleary-eyed morning face. You look so cozy, it makes his heart lurch to see you wearing his oversized t-shirt.

" Hey ! You didn't give me a morning hug ! " Satoru pouts and complains to his son.

Megumi groans. With a small encouragement from you, he quickly dives in for a rushed and almost shy hug. His arms wrap around Satoru's legs. And like the menace your husband is, he ruffles Megumi's hair to ruin again — making the boy groan annoyedly and break the hug.

" Ugh, daaad stop. Mom just fixed my hair. " Megumi grimaced, promptly running away when Satoru smiled down at him evilly — because that smile was the one he made before going in for tickles. And tickles from Satoru? They were devastating, truly.

So little footsteps thump out of the kitchen and the two loud voices that have been sounding from the sitting room become three loud voices. You notice how Megumi's accent takes after Satoru's rather than yours, and it warms your heart.

You approach the stressed, apron-clad chef and immediately he turns around to engulf you in an energetic kiss and embrace.

" You're burning the bacon, dad. " you giggle, face squishing into his torso.

" NOOO — shitshitshit. " he mutters under his breath, lips tingling from that tasty kiss he just snatched off your lips.

" Language, 'Toru. " you murmur at him, arms wrapping around his slim waist. You give him butterflies and then he loses all composure, causing a burnt disaster in the pan. The eggs are crusted brown, the bacon is glitterring as it sizzles a deep color.

Automatically, you go around the kitchen collecting and preparing plates and cutlery for the meal. The clang and clash of plastic reminds you that today is a big deal; you and Satoru were going to go out and use the rest of your weekly savings on new kitchenware.

Stopping for a moment to amire the attractive view of your husband's physique from behind, while he rather chaotically shovels the cooked contents of the pan out onto the serving plate that you slide next to him.

" Ah the bacon is saved. . . " he breathes in relief.

The sizzling food finds its home on plates. Satoru steals a quick kiss.

And then another. And another and another until the two of you zone out for a moment and feel like you're just two teenagers again, stealing lovey dovey kisses on your way to morning classes, of course his lips always caused you to be you late to everything back then.

But before you and Satoru can completely intertwine like lovers, there's the common interrruption of Yuji's wailing coming from the sitting room. You and your husband exchange those parental sighs and smiles, before you head into the other room to fix the little commotion. Poor Yuji complains to you through teary eyes that Nobara bit him "for being annoying" and Megumi is just wandering back into the kitchen to help his dad serve up breakfast without him even needing to be asked. He was just a sweet boy like that.

And it's a good meal. One that hits all the spots. You wish you could have more, even though Satoru did put from his plate onto yours throughout the meal. It's a caring habit of his that you never realize until after you've devoured everything. You pay him thanks with a tasty kiss, and he smiles into it like he always does.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

#gojo #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #domestic fluff #cute #wholesome #its what u need after 236 #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader

[ravencincaide]

Between 7th and 9th street 

Summary: There was a secret room in the very back of the gentlemans club. It was a room Chuuya never mentioned and you never asked about- or else you’d end up giving yourself away. OR what happens in a gentlemans club stays in a gentlemans club. 

Pairing: Fem!reader x Chuuya 

Inspired by Kinktober prompt 9: Glory hole 

Warnings: 18 + minors DNI! Gloryhole, Blow and handjob, inexperienced-kinda, male orgasm, hint at prostitution and hint at infidelity- kinda, hint at old stereotypical norms concerning women, chastity, virginity and marriage, cursing and lies.

Enjoy~

______________________________________________________________

You knew his schedule like the back of your hand. 

You knew how long each mission lasted just from its description; how many minutes or hours were spent as active fighting and planning time- and how much was just wasted away on bickering, talking, slacking or doing some other ungodly thing under the disguise of a job. You knew how long each meeting took- how many minutes each subordinate would dare to speak before they’d get uncomfortable under their bosses stern gaze and fiery temper.

You knew Chuuya Nakahara like the back of your hand- better than he knew himself.  

So it was only natural you would know what happened every Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. To be fair, Chuuya wasn’t hiding it from you either.  

Not the fact that he was going to the gentlemans club after work before he’d finally come home in the wee hours of the evening or night. In fact he was always open to talk about the men he’d meet there, the cigars he’d buy, the alcohol he’d drink and the deals he’d make. No, he’ll tell that to you even without you asking. Intertwined the details of the less formal part of his work in between sweet praises and claims of love; of how much he missed you. 

You knew however that there was one thing he was hiding from you. A little obscured room in the very back of the gentlemen's club which, at first glance looked like any other room for rent for those too intoxicated to go home for the night; A dimly lit place with a simple bed, a desk with a matching wooden chair and a bookshelf. However there was an odd corner of the room. Completely bare but for a serving trolly on wheels with several bottles of alcohol and matching glasses, and an unopened box of cigarettes. An ashtray and a box of tissues.  Underneath the cigarettes there was an inconspicuous condom or two. Pulling the wagon away from the wall would reveal a single round hole, no bigger than 6 or 8 inches in diameter leading into darkness. 

This was a room that Chuuya never mentioned to you and you never asked about: or else you’d end up giving yourself away. 

You used one of the back entrances to get to the gentlemans club; a little scruffy door in a tiny side alleyway between the 7th and 9ths street that was primarily used for deliveries and kitchen staff. Your little heels click-clacked against the polish marble floors as you quickly made your way through the different levels of the mansion. You kept your head low, hood pulled up and gaze fixed on the floor, pausing only to duck behind a crevasse or hidden passage whenever you heard someone approaching. You hid until they were gone then continued your fast pace towards the obscured room in the very back. Then you walked right past it, to the only door beside it. 

Entering the shoebox sized room, you closed and locked the door behind you before pressing your ear to it, listening intensely for the sound of familiar footsteps. A few minutes later you heard them; the faint clacking of fancy shoes as they made their way towards the obscure room. A slight pause and a swoosh of his coat- no doubt checking that he was not followed- before the door behind the wall opened and then closed shut. Then a faint echo of the lock clicking into place. 

You moved away from the door and moved to take your coat off, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Then you pulled off your dress, having it join your coat. Your bra followed. Wrapping your hands around your breasts you stayed where you were, safely out of sight while silently listening to the commotion on the other side of the wall. 

Pacing, cursing, drinking. Then finally the screech of the metal serving cart as it was pulled away from the wall. A shuffle of clothes, then more curses. Then the sound of money clanging against the floor on your side of the wall, followed shortly by a half erect cock with attached balls pushed through the circular hole. 

You recognized it as Chuuya’s instantly; the tiny birthmark on the very base being a dead give away.  You swallowed thickly before quietly inching closer. But you were not fast enough as you heard his low, menacing growl. 

“ Come on, be a good slut and take it” Chuuya’s voice resonated, loud, firm and unkind. Without a hint of sweetness. Almost as if he was addressing a bug. Like every word he spoke was wasted on you. “ You know you wanna rub it and suck it; that’s all a cheap whore like you is good for anyways”

You dropped on your knees in front of his lengths and teased him ever so slightly with your hot breath. You watched his dick twitch in anticipation, an alluring sight that filled your mind with all sorts of naughty ideas. The weight of it in your hand- the taste of it between your lips. Having it push down the back of your throat or spraying hot cum all over your face and bare tits. Your hands gripped your breasts tighter, massaging the skin.  Unable to stop yourself you ran the tip of your tongue over his slit, focusing on the smooth mushroom head, then down his shaft, finding a vein you trailed it all the way down his base, then licked at his balls.

“ No, No! Pretend to be awkward with it. Like you’ve never given head before. Make me believe it damn it–” Chuuya ordered, his palm hitting the thin wall separating you two in warning. He hit the wall again when you  weren’t quick enough to comply. 

You raised your eyebrow at his request then shook your head at your own curiosity. Asking questions would give you away- your only option was to shut up and do.  

You pulled your tongue back before licking your lips. You made him wait a few seconds- until he shifted uncomfortably behind the wall. Then you gave his lengths a careful lick, pulled back, then another more bold one focusing on the tip of him. 

“ Ahh yes my love!“ You heard Chuuya moan behind the wall. You could picture him, standing there, arm against the wall, forehead rested on top of it. Eyes closed, licking his lips, trying to keep his desires composed. You could guess what he was imagining. The sounds he made pulled your lips up into a small smile. 

Carefully you took the tip of him between your lips and ran your tongue all around his head in circular motion. 

 “yes, yes Y/N” Chuuya groaned quietly, barely loud enough for you to hear. You pulled his cock out of your mouth and gripped it with both of your hands, doing your best to mimic an awkward handjob; you moved them up and down, more carefully stroking than tugging. Only occasionally twisting or squeezing. Sometimes you’d grip too tightly then seeming to realize your mistake your touch would grow feather light. 

This earned you a loud groan from Chuuya, a frustrated, almost tortured sound. “ You’re doing great” he lied through squeezed teeth “ Just like that, you can be a bit bolder with it- grip it”  

You pretended to be uncertain before tightening your hands slightly, gripping his lengths tightly as you moved them slowly up and down. You heard a much more satisfied groan from Chuuya, felt him buck his hips into your touch. You moved closer to his dick, breathing hot breath onto the tip. Watching drops of pre-cum form as you teased his mind- reminding him of the warms of your mouth. 

You heard a breathy chuckle then a whisper;“ Don’t be afraid of it my love, taste it” Chuuya urged. With no hesitation you let one hand go and wrapped your lips around the tip. Your hand dropped down to your nipples, playing with the first one then the second round bud. You shuddered, spreading your legs as you felt the unbearable heat between them starting to get to you. 

“ Oh yes baby– see? it doesn’t taste much. Go on now baby–mmm yes like that” Chuuya’s gasps and groans made you take more of him in your mouth. Your other hand finally falling away from him and digging into your thigh in a desperate attempt to remind yourself not to moan. He’d recognize you in an instant– but you were so wet. So needy for him. The only thing you could think about was burying his dick deep in your pussy. But you couldn’t- not yet. Not now. You needed to wait a little longer. 

In desperate need you took the lengths of him in your mouth, gagging as he brushed against the back of your throat. Tears in your eyes, you pulled him back before taking him again as deep as you could. Sucking and licking his dick while your hips humped the air desperate need. Feeling the material of your panties just barely ghosting over your folds, making you want to scream and cry at once. You stopped yourself by sucking him harder trying not to think too hard about how he’d feel balls deep inside you. 

“ ah-My sweet girl, you're driving me nuts.” You heard Chuuya bang his fist against the wall making you startle and jump back slightly. An angry, almost desperate tone filled his voice; “ No, No! Don’t stop- don’t even think about stopping Y/N!” 

The way he moaned your name made it worse for you; made you that much wetter. You didn’t know how much more of this you could take. How much longer until you broke and gave yourself away, begging him to come through that wall and fuck you properly. Biting back a groan of desperation you focused your mind on taking more of him between your lips, quick and sloppy; licking and sucking. Both of your hands working on the rest of him that didn’t fit in your mouth. You set a rough, almost brutal pace. Alternating between deepthroating and buzzing around his tip with your lips and tongue. 

As he thrusted back into your mouth, you could tell he was close. Could feel him tensing, his cock twitching with the carnal need to fill your mouth with his burning hot seed. His desire- for you. A desire he screamed as he came, then kept cooing as he rode out his orgasm. “ Ahh Y/N!” Chuuya moaned as his cock finally softened and he pulled it out of your lips. A trail of cum and saliva followed, spilling all over your chest and tits. The sight made you crave more, made you rub the sticky seed into your skin. If this was how his cum tasted and felt on your tits, you couldn’t wait until he’d finally fill your pussy with it. Cum in you and breed you, like a proper whore. You wanted another round- this time with more of his seed on your face and body. 

You heard Chuuya take a shaky breath making you lick your lips in anticipation. Then you bit back your growl of frustration as he spoke; 

“ You’re a decent whore” Chuuya spat, pulling his dick back through the hole. You suppressed a needy whine not ready to call it a day yet. Instead you kept sitting on your knees- hoping he’d change his mind. You heard the opening of a box, shuffling of paper then the click of a lighter. The smell of cigarette smoke filled your senses making you shift even more needlily on your knees. 

“ If you ever speak of this to anyone, I’ll kill you” Chuuya muttered then to motivate your silence and tossed another large bill  carelessly at you through the hole. “ Now get out of my sight- you disgusting wench” 

Realizing he was done with you, you quickly collected the money then rushed to put your clothes on. You knew better than to linger; a moment of fleeting desire was not worth the price it would cost you. Thus you were the first one to leave: opening and shutting the door quietly behind yourself. Barely missing the sound of Chuuya’s fist hitting the wall accompanied with the loud yell of frustration. 

You made a mental note to prepare an ice pack or two for him once you got home. 

At home you were quick to take a shower, being careful to remove any and all traces of Chuuya on you. Then you brushed your teeth and applied the tiniest bit of makeup to hide your puffy lips. A splash of perfume to mask any possible reminiscence of the gentlemans club and cigarette smoke. You looked like nothing happened. Still you were cautious; you soaked the clothes you wore in soapy water and poured the tiniest splash of blue on the rim of the buckets as if you were testing out a new clothing dye. This way you could be sure Chuuya wouldn’t go snooping. 

Then you rushed into the kitchen to continue with the dinner you started preparing earlier that morning, not forgetting to restock the ice packs in your freezer. You were almost done with dinner when you heard the key turning in the lock. Your heart skipped a beat and you silently glanced at the mirror on the opposite side of the room, making sure you looked normal. Clothes ironed and fresh, hair clean and put up in a bun and the most subtle hints of make up which hid any and all indecent traces on your body. 

You tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear as you heard Chuuya enter the hallway with a low hungry moan; “ Oh god it smells so good, love ” he called from the hallway, rushing to take his coat, shoes and hat off. “ You have no idea how hungry I am, work was fucking brutal today!” 

“ Oh you’re right on time, love! My parents are joining us for dinner- father wants to discuss the finalities of our engagement; and mother had some concerns about the priest we picked for the ceremony” you smiled as you checked one last time on the simmering pots- tonight's festive dinner, feeling pretty proud of how the food looked and how well timed it was. 

Then you paused before letting out a shy giggle as you heard your fiance sneak up behind you. You laughed out loud as you felt Chuuya wrap his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “ I missed you so much sweetheart; you were on my mind all day. The only thing I could think about was you, holding you, coming home to you” Chuuya cooed his arms brushing against the metal of your chastity belt. Feeling it through your dress he let out a low sigh of frustration “ I can’t wait until we’re married sweets, then you’ll be finally free of the damned belt” 

You smiled a little and leaned more of your weight against him, salvaging the closeness, ignoring the subtle sexual hint he made. Ohh if only he knew how much you wanted to be rid of that belt- then maybe he wouldn’t pretend to be so gentle and subtle. Instead of agitating him you plastered a chappy tone of voice; “Still we’re lucky my parents let me move in with you before marriage- a chastity belt seems a small price to pay in comparison.” Before you could continue this discussion you deliberately reached down to take his hand in your own. You gaped as you saw the deep cut, the swelling and the bruise. 

 It seems he had not just slammed his fist against the wall -- but rather punched through it

“ Chuuya  you’re hurt, what happened?” Your voice carried genuine worry  as you moved to pry yourself away from him to get the first aid kit and the already-prepared ice packs from the freezer. Chuuya was quick to halt your movements, tightening his arms around you, keeping you locked to his chest. The action confused you; “Chuuya, love?” 

You heard him let out a low groan and bury his face further into your neck. “ It’s nothing sweetheart, I just lost my temper at the gentlemans club- there were so many frustrating people there, and no decent smokes either! You should have seen all those newbies whining about such mundane and stupid things- and the ungrateful old farts.. No, dollface, when we’re married you’re going to come with me and see just how frustrating and idiotic that place is!” Chuuya complained, his voice shaky, words rushed as if he was trying to persuade the both of you that all those upper class snobs and petty criminals were the reason behind his anger. 

You laughed and shook your head ever so slightly, slowly beginning to rock back and forth in a feeble attempt to inch closer to the stove and stir the food. You couldn’t force him to let you treat his hand- but you would be damned if you were going to let him ruin dinner. 

Chuuya followed your every movement, refusing to let you go. If anything he clung tighter to you- as though afraid you were going to disappear on him. 

So cuddly and desperate for you, for a sliver of your affection. It reminded you just how much you loved this man.  You felt your heart soaring as he pressed a kiss and then another to your clothed shoulder, a bubbly laughter spilling past your lips as you finally answered him. “ Love you know wives aren’t allowed in the gentlemen's clubs- that is the whole point of them!” 

Still the offer filled you with warmth, and cemented your sentiment to never speak about the little obscured room in the very back of the gentlemen's club and what happened there. At least until Chuuya broke the silence first.. 

#bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #kinktober #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #chuuya smut #bsd smut #Chuuya x you #Gentlemens club #historical #chuuya fluff

[g-xix]

i literally NEED dating headcannons for Ginge😰PLEASE IM BEGGING

☁️AngryGinge13 Dating Headcanons

-Right, we all know how this man loves his lil Lightning McQueen Crocs -Now imagine that was the first present he ever got you. -You always let him know that you HATED crocs and that you thought they were SO UGLY... -Which is why for your birthday when you opened up a pair of Lightning McQueen crocs to match his own "hideous" pair, you were completely deadpan whereas Ginge was almost crying from laughter -Unfortunately, when the strap of your sliders broke, you did have to resort to the McQueen crocs... -And they ended up growing on you... -First time Ginge showed up to your house unexpectedly and caught you wearing the crocs he was laughing and videoing it in sheer disbelief and triumph over the fact he'd won you over with the crocs -They're comfy asw, although you'd never admit that to Ginge... -Oh, and if you're ever packing to go to a hotel or an overnight stay or anything, Morgan always reminds you to take your McQueen crocs or just packs them whilst you're asleep with a post-it note with an annoying little smiley face drawn on. -He was so obsessed with these McQueen crocs asw, that he saw a TikTok on his fyp of a couple doing the shoes trend thingie and he joked with chat that he should do that with his missus... But then he came home and ACTUALLY ENDED UP MAKING YOU DO WITH THE LIGHTNIGN MCQUEEN CROCS AND ALL... -(Acc kinda cute though) -This is what it turned out to look like:

Cute!!!

-Anyways, we all know Ginge is a big football player -Our favourite goalie, blocked the goal more times than he's cockblocked himself and not realised it until an hour later -You love going and watching his games -Not massive on watching sports, only really like the world cup and euros... -But seeing your boyfriend out and playing on the pitch has you some type of way -You're either up on your feet cheering him on, sat down with your head in your hands absolutely bricking it, or trying not to pass out because of how hot Morgan looks with his hands above his head, hair messy and out of place as he grins and kicks the ball out to the midfield -Either way, you're always gushing when he comes out of the locker room- grabbing his hand and telling him how good that one save was -He loves it to be honest, even after in his eyes he's had a shit game, in your eyes he's always the star player and he loves how you never fail to show that -When he comes back as well, you make him lie his ass down -Get him to lie on his front so that you can give a back massage and get all those tight knots out his back bc he gets SO stiff (😏🤭) -You need to smack a hand over his mouth because he fully GROANS every time you're getting the knots -You're hissing at him shut up before everyone downstairs think we're- -He let's out ANOTHER ungodly loud groan whilst has you threatening to leave the massage right there and then if he doesn't get his act straight -He also INSISTS he doesn't groan but that he grunts (as if that makes it any better???) -Once you're done, you get up from the bed and smack his ass to indicate it's done (and just to get a grip of the WHOLE BAKERY) -One time there wasn't a Sunday match so he stayed home instead, and ended up asking whether you wanted a massage -You agreed, not thinking anything could go wrong... -WRONG. -Bro literally straddled you to "get the technique right" -It felt INCREDIBLY painful but Morgan was insistent that was just because you were stiff, and the massage was going to make it better -Came away from that feeling stiffer than before... -Later that night you lifted your shirt and looked back into the mirror... -You had fucking BRUISES from how hard Morgan had been pressing -Morgan was horrified seeing it as well, smacking a hand over his mouth and tracing over the marks with a finger as if he couldn't believe it -Apologised profusely and gave you a massive bear hug, apologising for a straight minute despite the fact he was amused by it, as indicated by the wide grin on his face. -Did make up for it by getting you your favourite takeout and cuddling you all night until you fell asleep though, arms around your waist and legs tucked up against yours until he felt your breathing rate slow, indicating you'd fallen asleep.

-And right, I know Autumn's usually quite shitty- rain and proper chilly.... But imagine forcing Ginge to do an aesthetic, couples Autumn with you. -Would do baking at least once a week with him and fight the urge to throw flour at him every time he slammed the oven shut, looked across the room and groaned as he realised he forgot to put the sugar in... -First time you baked together, you tried to make cinnabuns with icing and all, for a stream -Instead you ended up doing the spoon-of-cinnamon challenge, almost choking, Ginge going bright red in the face and coughing up clouds of brown, powder-cinnamon like a dragon... -Oh, and Morgan went super-sus as soon as you started making the icing- picking up the spoon and watching it dribble down time and time again, either making zesty jokes or asking "How many people watching this probably have a boner because of this icing?" -The image of Morgan with icing all over his tongue became all of Ginge's Twitter replies for the next month. -And Morgan buys you candles every time he goes out to add to your collection which you light up whenever the two of you do movie nights together... -Oh, and another stream the two of you tried: pumpkin carving: +You laughed at how the pumpkin was Ginge's third cousin (the ginger hair gene's proper strong in his family...) +Morgan ended up accidentally slicing his finger and yelling that Chucky was gonna sniff him out and BUM HIM that night (You watched Chucky just the other night but didn't know where Morgan got the bum stuff from...) +Morgan tried to spray stuff from an aerosol and light it on fire instead of lighting his little tea light... -Fair to say that the clips from that stream went very viral.

-The two of you have SUCH different date night ideas as well. -I wanna say that you'd have a lot more aesthetic, quite cute little date nights, a bit more indoorsy and intimate... -But whenever Morgan organises date nights, it's absolute CHAOS. -You organise movie nights with pillow forts and homemade snacks; boardgame nights with homemade s'mores; Mario Kart tournaments with forfeits... -Most outdoorsy date idea you organised was a Summer picnic on Primrose Hill the day after the Sidemen Charity match, as a little London date -You didn't plan any dates after that because that date ended with some teen-roadmen insisting on joining your picnic in their bally's and all, and a whole load of pictures of yourself and Ginge all over Twitter :/ -But aside from that, what date nights did Ginge organise? -Well, he liked doing stream dates like the pumpkin carving stream -But he also considers his fifa streams where he gets you in as dates, despite the fact you're bored off your arse opening packs -Most fun streamed date night that Ginge had organised was the one just a few days before Halloween where the two of you played horror games together. -You started with the classic FNAF game 1 as a warmup which had Ginge a lot more scared than you (although at one point you did a little jump... which did make you accidentally topple off the chair, much to Morgan's amusement as he scream-laughed at you on the floor) -Playing Silent Hill had Morgan silenced though, as he insisted on you sitting on his lap to play so that he could bury his head between your neck and shoulder and hide behind your body whenever there was a jumpscare -You'd be getting butterflies as he holds his arms around your waist, squeezing you tightly whenever he started getting scared there'd be a jumpscare and resting his head on your shoulder... You're absolutely trying your best to focus on the game and not get flustered and dopily smile whilst the stream could see your every expression -Lots of cutesy edits came out the next day of how Ginge was "so in love with you" from the way he held you and looked at you in that horror stream... And you favourited every single one. -Those were some of the less chaotic streams though. -One time he installed speakers in his room and little fireworks and got you to play fifa against him- whenever one of you scored he'd blow an airhorn and play GET HYPER! loudly from the speakers, making you let out a scream every time a fireworks was set off behind you, charring the ceiling from the mini-explosion. -Another time he arranged a theme park date which was all good and fun apart from when after the first rollercoaster, Morgan realised he HATED rollercoasters and you LOVED them. -And you had a strong stomach, whereas Morgan felt queasy after each ride despite not even eating a thing beforehand. -Meanwhile you were eating all of the festive food: Caramel apple? Scranned. Candyfloss? Gone. Chocolate-dipped and icing-powdered churros? Absolutely decimated. -Ginge only touched food when the ice cream man tried to do the tricks with the icecream cone, flipping it around your hands so that you couldn't TOUCH the ice cream. Morgan was too quick, swiping the ice cream when the icecreaman least expected it- but also accidentally crushing the cone over the head of a toddler who was stood in front of you. -You tried not to laugh as Morgan profusely apologised to the crying four-year-old, trying to silence the youngling with "Any ice cream you want! You can have three scoops- oh please stop crying!" -Also get off from a rollercoaster and saw they had a little photobooth! -Ofc forced him to go in there 😍😍

-You thought the photos were done after just 2 pictures and left Ginge confused in the last one looking like that... -Had a heart-swell moment the next morning when you saw Morgan had posted it to his insta story with a little "<3 @yourUser" despite not being overenthusiastic to take the pictures in the first place 🥰

----

Quick lil amalgamation of Ginge HC's following the sdmn vid - send in more ginge requests though! Mocks finish this week and the new vid has me a little bit FERAL for Ginge, so flood the inbox w all your ginge ideas or even your own Ginge HC's, and I hope you enjoyed this quick little upload!!!

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

#angryginge #angryginge13 #angry ginge #morgan burtwistle #sidemen #sidemen charity match #charity match #youtube #youtuber #twitch #twitch streamer #streamer #kick #chrismd #wroetoshaw #harry lewis #danny aarons #ksi #tobjizzle #tobi brown #miniminter #jj olatunji #zerkaa #josh zerkaa #josh bradley #angryginge13 x reader #angryginge x reader #angry ginge x reader #morgan burtwistle x reader #headcanons

[eyesthatroll]

STRAWBERRY VANILLA

SEPT. 2021

[ takes place in the bless the broken road universe ]

summary jack and (y/n) aka winnie meet for the first time

pairing jack hughes x fem!poc!reader

warning(s) none?

word count 1.2k

It's a late Sunday evening, and you find yourself knee-deep in baking preparations for the upcoming morning at the bakery. Normally, this task was reserved for early mornings, requiring you to rise at the ungodly hour of 4 am. However, the prospect of waking up so early had lost its appeal, so you had opted for a late-night baking session instead.

Despite the soft hum of background music, the relentless downpour outside remained unmistakable. The rain pounded against the windows, a symphony of nature's fury that was everyone's least favorite song. As you worked, you held onto the hope that it would subside before closing up. The thought of venturing out into the pouring rain wasn't appealing, and the idea of driving through the intense downpour filled you with a nervousness that you couldn't shake.

You're in the midst of placing some freshly baked, unadorned cakes into the refrigerator when the distinctive chime of the entrance door bell sounds, pausing you from your task. Your expression shifts from concentration to momentary confusion, as you're almost certain you'd locked that door. However, the distant murmur of a stranger's voice calling out confirms your earlier suspicion that you must have forgotten to secure it.

Hastily, you exit the kitchen, halting as you arrive at the front of the shop. Your gaze fixates on a tall figure, draped in clothes soaked by the non-stop rain. With practiced ease, he sheds his hoodie, revealing a sculpted physique beneath a clinging, rain-dampened white t-shirt that accentuates the contours of his well-defined torso.

"Sorry, we're closed." Your voice cuts through the air, drawing his attention like a magnet. He swivels his head towards you, his deep-blue eyes locking onto yours. An exasperated sigh escapes his lips, and he runs a hand through his tousled, chestnut hair, his fingers tugging lightly at the roots before releasing them.

He appears oddly familiar, and you tilt your head slightly, straining to recall the distant memory of where you might have crossed paths with him before.

"Can I ride out the storm here for a bit, just until the rain slows?"

His question hangs in the air, tinged with a hint of pleading in his tone. You find yourself intrigued, unable to ignore the curiosity about what drove him out into the storm. Though your initial instinct is to refuse and tell him to leave, you can't deny the surreal feeling of this encounter. It's not every day that an attractive stranger stumbles into your bakery, seeking shelter from the tempest outside. It's as if you've stepped into a scene from a novel, a meet-cute destined to unfold. Yet, you're acutely aware that once the storm passes, your paths will diverge, and this fleeting connection will fade into memory.

"You can stay until the rain stops, or until I leave." You agree.

A warm, appreciative smile graces his lips as he nods in gratitude. "Thank you so much."

"Sure." A subtle, awkward tension lingers in the air, leaving you feeling somewhat uneasy about resuming your work in the kitchen while leaving the stranger alone in the front of the bakery.

Instead, you opt for some light cleaning in the front. With deliberate motions, you wipe down the tables, sweep the floor, and diligently review and sign some pending invoices.

Despite your efforts to stay occupied, that lingering sense of awkward tension gradually returns to fill the room as there is nothing else up front for you to do.

"Did you want something to eat? I have cake, donuts, and some other stuff."

He shifts uneasily, his mouth opening and closing as if he's uncertain how to respond to your offer. You look at him expectantly, arms crossed over your chest, and a slight sway in your stance as you roll onto the balls of your feet.

His hesitation finally gives way, and he responds, his teeth grazing over his bottom lip. "What kinds of donuts do you have?"

A grin spreads across your face as you step over to the counter where he's standing. You reach behind the counter, retrieving a menu and flipping it over to reveal the section dedicated to mouthwatering donut options.

Shoulder to shoulder, you take a moment to walk him through each of the donut flavors. Some are classics, like the indulgent Boston creme, while others venture into the realm of culinary creativity, like the pineapple basil donut.

"How about..." He pauses briefly, contemplating his choice. "Strawberry Vanilla?"

You accept the menu from him with a nod, then pivot toward the kitchen. Swiftly, you retrieve two strawberry donuts from the fridge and arrange them on a spare plate you have lying around. With a deft hand, you pluck two napkins, ready to serve the treats.

Returning to the front, the handsome stranger remains in his original spot, engrossed in his cellphone. You clear your throat, gently guiding him to the side as you hoist yourself onto the counter. His gaze meets yours, uncertainty etched across his face. A reassuring smile graces your lips, and you pat the space next to you on the counter. He hesitates for a moment before mirroring your actions, and the two of you settle side by side on the countertop, indulging in your donuts together.

"Oh my god," he exclaims between bites, his enthusiasm palpable. You glance at him, a mixture of amusement and pride washing over you as his reaction to the donuts you made becomes increasingly evident. "This is insane," he declares, his words filled with genuine appreciation.

"Thank you." You thank him, laughing softly as you take a bite of your own donut.

A comfortable silence envelops both of you, with only the soft background music as your companion. Your eyes occasionally dart toward him, quick glances to avoid being caught staring. It's become clear, especially now, being so close to him, that he is undeniably beautiful.

Surely, he must have a girlfriend, right? There's no way he doesn't. You try to push aside the twinge of disappointment that accompanies that thought, but it lingers at the base of your chest.

He wipes his mouth with his napkin, then turns to you with a curious expression. "Crazy, I never noticed this place was here."

You immediately shake your head, eager to share a bit of your story. "Actually, I just bought this place a few months ago. I think it used to be a vegan place or something."

He appears genuinely surprised by your admission. "Wow, you own this place? You look pretty young."

A sheepish smile plays on your lips. "I'm 20."

His eyes light up with shared astonishment. "Me too!"

"And what do you do for work?"

Before he has the chance to answer, a sudden knock at the door jolts you back to reality. A taller boy, strikingly similar to the one sitting next to you, stands outside. It seems neither of you had even noticed that the rain had stopped, leaving the sky a light grey.

"That's my brother," he says, sliding off the counter. He retrieves his hoodie from the floor, draping it casually over his right shoulder.

"Thanks for the shelter." He says. "And the donut," he adds, flashing you a warm smile.

"Of course," you reply with a nod. "Drive safe."

"Yes ma'am." And just like that, the handsome stranger you'd shared laughter and conversation with for the better part of a half-hour is gone.

mari speaks! consider this a part one i suppose.

tag list! @tomhollandsbabymama

[ if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist, please comment and let me know ]

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb

[w1ldthoughts]

Can you do a second part of killer cravings, where the readers water breaks, goes into labor and goes through birth that would be great please and thanks. :) (:

A/n: Buckle up this is a lengthy one…but probably the cutest thing I’ve ever written. Glad you enjoyed the previous one-shot! Thank you for requesting this anon I thoroughly enjoyed writing it :)

Here is my Masterlist with my other work and requests/asks are always welcome!

Warning: pregnancy and childbirth, nausea, mention of getting sick, a LOT of fluff

Little Duckling

Saturday 10pm

Justin had been asleep for almost two hours as you folded laundry and put it away in the nursery. Your induction was scheduled for Monday morning promptly at 8am and everyone within the Chargers organization knew that this was happening because your husband absolutely hated taking the day off. But this was understandably a special exception to the rule. You’d spent the last 9 months mentally and physically preparing yourself for this moment but the idea of having a human being relying on you for everything was still such a daunting task that you almost wished the day wouldn’t come.

And then the ache in your back and hips reminded you that your baby girl was quickly running out of room and would be making her entrance soon, whether you and your husband were ready or not. On the bright side, your stomach had dropped significantly in the last few days, allowing you to breathe easier and for Justin to poke fun at your pronounced waddle. He affectionately started calling you Mumble last week, from Happy Feet. The dad jokes were coming in strong.

You heaved yourself out of the chair you were parked in and were headed off to bed before a slight pain wrapped itself around the base of your stomach. The pressure moved from your back and hips, traveling to the area just underneath your belly button. You stopped walking and used the wall to support yourself, rubbing small circles around the area until it passed. As a Braxton-Hicks veteran, you continued your trek to the bedroom, completed your nighttime routine and headed off to bed.

Sunday 2am

It happened again, this twinge of discomfort that had you holding your breath for about 15 seconds before it released you and you had to take several deep breaths to recover. After a few minutes everything was normal again and you had to turn behind you to make sure that Justin was still asleep. Throughout your pregnancy he’d become a much lighter sleeper, often waking up at ungodly hours to get you snacks or a few nights when you caught him talking to your belly, whether it was talking about the playbook or just telling her he couldn’t wait to meet her, it warmed your heart just the same. But you were thankful for now that he just missed that entire exchange because you were definitely not in labor…right?

Sunday 7am

You were definitely in labor. On a Sunday, when the Chargers were playing the Chiefs at home. Of course. You’d experienced three contractions so far, four hours apart so you had plenty of time. There was no way in hell you were telling Justin. As soon as it was appropriate, you scooted yourself out of bed and went down to the home gym for some prenatal yoga for a good stretch and hopefully a boost of positive energy. Then you hopped in the shower, hoping the warm water would relax your tense muscles and maybe help you delay the inevitable.

By 8:30 Justin was awake and making breakfast for the two of you while you sat on the couch watching New Girl. He brought your plate and a cup of orange juice to you which you were grateful for, but the thought of putting anything but the juice in your body made your stomach turn.

“Are you alright? You’ve barely touched your avocado toast and you’ve been devouring it the last few days.” He ran a gentle hand on your forehead to check your temperature and tucked some hair behind your ear. “I can make you something else before I leave if you want?”

“No, I’m fine! Just not hungry yet, I’ll probably eat later.” You lied through your teeth, desperately hoping that he would let it go. The excuse seemed to satisfy him enough for him to head back upstairs to watch some film and get ready. An hour and a half later, he headed downstairs just in time to find you stretching out your back, a cramp beginning to wash over you.

He replaced your hands with his own, slightly lifting your stomach to take the weight off for a bit. “Your stomach is hard as a rock,” he observed furrowing his brows and starting to piece things together.

“Yeah I’m having a fake contraction, you know they’re so common these days.” You rushed out, attempting to use his extensive research against him.

Although he nods his head in understanding, his face is full of distress. “I know, I just hate the thought of you being in pain and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

You tap his wrist so he can slowly drop your belly and you turn around in his arms. “You’re so cute, but it really isn’t that bad. A lot less painful than playing with fractured rib cartilage for two months I can tell you that.” You chuckle at his struggle a few years ago, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Here’s what’s gonna happen today though. You are going to go and kick the Chiefs’ ass then you’re going to come home, we’ll celebrate and then tomorrow you’ll be on your way to being the greatest dad to ever live. How does that sound?”

Justin chuckles, giving you a peck on the lips, nose and forehead. “If I’m half as good a parent as I know you’ll be, then I know I’ll be golden.”

“Stop it before I start crying, you know I’m super hormonal right now this isn’t fair.” You mumble, tears brimming your eyes. He gives you one last kiss before reminding you to call your friend Dani to stay with you, even though your moms were on their way to your home.

Once he pulled out of the driveway you could relax, letting out a deep sigh and patting your swollen middle. Crisis averted.

Sunday 12pm

Contractions were officially every hour and Dani was trying her best not to freak out in order not to freak you out. But she was definitely freaking out. What started out as more intense period cramps were becoming a lot sharper, so much so that you couldn’t even enjoy Encanto, which made you sad. You did manage to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and take a nap while she was with you, fluffing your pillows and telling you that you were doing amazing. Three hours later, there was a knock at the door and Dani went to open it for Holly and your mom. The two becoming best friends was probably the cutest thing in the world and your mom had even flown to Oregon three days before just to spend time with Holly and drive to California with her. They were the sweetest. And of course they brought snacks. There were lactation cookies for you in the freezer already but they brought more and they brought an abundance of food to eat during the game, which usually would have you celebrating but today made you want to stick your face in the toilet.

You greeted the two women with hugs as Dani helped set up their spread and they immediately asked how you were feeling.

“I just woke up not too long ago so I’m feeling great now, ready to not be pregnant anymore so I can see my f—ohhh wow. Ow.” You groaned, one hand on your contracting belly and the other gripping the counter for dear life.

Dani’s eyes bug out of her head as she moves to rub your back. “That was the roughest one yet.” She was right, this one left your whole body sore and let you know that things were definitely moving along.

“That one?” Your mom questions, looking between you and Dani. Then, she and Holly exchange a look.

“Oh my gosh sweetie, you’re in labor!” Holly exclaims, “we need to get a hold of Justin immediately, I’ll call Mark I’m sure he’s already at the stadium.”

You cannot shake your head fast enough, “we don’t need to call him yet, that was the first bad one. And this game is important.”

“It’s Justin hun, every game is important,” Holly laughs, giving your shoulder a loving squeeze. “But you know what’s even more important to him? You and that baby girl that’s getting ready to see us soon, are you sure you don’t want to tell him now?”

“I’m sure,” you sigh, allowing your mom to guide you back to the couch, settling down with a groan. “Once the game is over he’ll be here and we’ll go have a baby. But not a moment before.”

Admittedly, it was getting harder to focus. Justin was playing great, but of course so was Patrick Mahomes. The Chargers would score and the Chiefs would answer. The Chiefs would get a stop and the Chargers would force a punt. But the battle within you was the most interesting one to the people in your house.

Your mom had gone down to find your birthing ball, which helped for about half a quarter, just in time for a Quentin Johnston touchdown to put the Chargers up by 10. By the end of the third you were forced into a squat behind one of the couches, spreading your legs to hopefully ease the increasing pressure on your hips. Holly made sure you stayed hydrated, having secretly texted her husband halfway through the fourth quarter when the game was firmly in hand to have their son home as soon as humanly possible. Contractions creeped on 30 minutes apart, leaving you panting and groaning in discomfort until your muscles relaxed.

Fifteen minutes later, you were pacing around the living room and you had to stop to hold onto the couch again, your mom helping you roll your hips as you felt thin beads of sweat building around your hairline. Things were getting real and scary and you needed Justin.

“What time is it?” You murmured, cupping your stomach with a hiss as the baby moved.

“It’s 7:15 and he’s on his way home, baby.” Your mom whispers, sensing your increasing distress, “he’ll be here soon.”

Time was not a construct you were familiar with anymore, Dani was in charge of timing contractions and all you knew was the moment in between them where you could actually speak. You headed upstairs for some time to yourself and a wave of nausea hit you and you emptied probably everything you’d eaten the entire day, which in hindsight probably wasn’t much. But you weren’t in the headspace to think clearly right now. You walked back to the bedroom and clutched the doorway, visibly feeling the heaviness of the baby moving down, almost sending you to your knees if it weren’t for the solid, calming presence that was suddenly in front of you.

“Hey babe.” You breathe out, your legs still feeling shaky.

He pulled you into his arms as close as your belly would allow and kissed your forehead. “Hi. Glad I could make it back in time, I knew something was off with you this morning,” he narrowed his eyebrows at you when he pulled away, walking you slowly back into the room. “How long have you been in labor? We can be honest now.”

You let out a dry laugh, “since 10 last night I think? But let’s focus on the important things, you played great and you won but Jesus you guys really took a minute to shut the door on ‘em.”

“Right, the important things. I know you love football as much as I do now, but you know if you told me earlier I would’ve been at your side in a heartbeat. You know that, right?”

God, you hoped your baby had his caring heart. “I do know. But I also knew that you’d be able to do both. The Chargers are your family too and—”

A contraction creeped up on you, leaving you to hold onto your husband’s forearms with a sharp sound of pain, the pressure reaching an overwhelming peak that you hadn’t experienced before.

“Squeeze as much as you want, it’s okay.” His voice attempts to soothe you but you couldn’t hear him over the animalistic grunt that escaped you. Your body tensed involuntarily and he could see your stomach hardening as the tension continued to build. There was nothing more he could do than hold you through it, until something gave way and the floodgates opened…literally.

“Your water just broke.” He said with a smile.

Sunday 10pm

Contractions in the house were terrible. But contractions in the car, with no cushion from the water bag made it feel like she was right between your legs.

“Justin, you have to go faster. Please.” You panted out, desperately clutching the grab handle and leaning your head back with a loud moan. “Can you turn on the air, I’m fucking dying in here. And I need to put the seat back, my back is killing me.” You felt guilty for whining but you also like a turtle stuck on its back, waiting for someone to turn it over and set it free. You were basically at his mercy right now and the look on his face explained the situation perfectly.

“Yeah, yeah do whatever you need. Whatever makes you comfortable, we’ll be there soon.” He patted your leg lovingly, constantly looking between you and the road, slightly worried that he’d have to deliver the baby in the car. When you let out another groan of pain, his grip on the steering wheel tightened and remained that way until the birthing center came into view. Your parents had called ahead and would meet you there when given the word, so all you had to do was check in and you were brought to your private suite.

Seven centimeters dilated and without painkillers made your husband question any football toughness he thought he had. You were so close to meeting your baby and he was a mix of anxiousness, nerves and excitement. But most of all he felt so much love and admiration for your determination and strength. Holding off on telling him you were in labor so he could be there to get the job done with his teammates was one thing but it was a complete whirlwind to be there with you while you worked your ass off to bring your baby into the world.

The two of you decided to use gravity to your advantage and walk around the building since the entire floor was closed off at your husband’s request. You needed the privacy. He couldn’t risk anyone leaking the most cherished moment of his life.

“I can’t believe this is our last night as a duo.” Justin whispers, walking at a snail’s pace while you waddled alongside him. “It’s been a great ride, pal.”

“Wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else. And I have a feeling this ride is going to get a lot more interesting from here on out.” You gave your belly a soothing pat.

He strokes your back as you sway your hips again, “thank you for choosing me to be the one that gets to do this with you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, more than anything in the world.” You grin, pulling him in for a soft kiss. His hand cups your face as he pulls you in even closer. The kiss oozed joy and gratitude. Your husband wasn’t a man of many words, but his actions spoke volumes.

You squeeze his arm again suddenly as pain bubbles deep in your core and you rip yourself away from him to press your lips together to stifle a yell. “We need to get back to the room. Now.”

The noises leaving your body would have horrified you if you weren’t already sitting backwards on the toilet wearing only an oversized t-shirt, with your legs spread and the man of your dreams digging his thumbs into your back. “Harder please,” you groan, feeling like your tailbone is seconds away from shattering.

“I’m not getting a break,” you cry, leaning back and asking him to help you up. He hooks his hands under your arms and basically lifts you to your feet. “It’s not stopping, I can’t—oh fuck.” You were either about to have the biggest bowel movement of your life or…

“She’s coming—she’s coming right now Justin I have to push.” That was all you could manage before the urge took over and your body wasn’t your own. You held onto one of his hands and moved into a squat as he pressed the red button on the side of the bathroom door, allowing your midwife to come in.

Pushing felt good, even though it left you shaking like a leaf in a cold and sweaty frenzy. It was the most intense experience of your life but you took one look at those grey-green eyes. The owner of them kissed your hand and reminded you that he was with you the entire time and you knew you could do anything with him by your side.

Remington Grace Herbert was born Monday morning at 1:42am with those exact same eyes that you fell in love with.

“Hi Remi,” Justin sobs, kissing her cheek. “We’ve been waiting a long time for you, baby girl.”

“She sure knows how to make an entrance.”

You hand her off to her dad after scooting over to give him more room on the bed. He wraps a free arm around you, securely holding her in his other one, totally in awe. “She’s so perfect, you’re perfect. You did so amazing, I’m so freaking proud of you.” He kisses the side of your head.

You cuddle into him with a content sigh, “Our perfect little duckling is finally here.”

#justin herbert #justin herbert x reader #justin herbert imagine #nfl imagine

[uchihaharlot]

Happy Smutty Shisui Sunday! I didn’t forget about my man.

This week I went to hell and back and back and back some more. Hardly had any Shisui or Uchiha simpy time for myself. 😩😭 Completely missed my ovulation horny thirst week!! I hope this makes up for it, to you and to me.

Ovulating or not, I’m still unbearably horny for this man.

NSFW; Shisui has been busting fat loads of his cum inside of you. In hopes that you’d end up pregnant & yes, I know Shisui’s birthday has passed. Consider this some sort of retroactive celebration on top of Shisui smutty Sundays.

WC: an ungodly amount of horny brain goes brrrr; mostly edited. My eye started to twitch so yea.

Well. Obviously after about six months he starts to think something is wrong with him or you. He wasn’t entirely shy when it came to making sure he thrusted his warm cum deep at your cervix. And even so far as to repeatedly fucking one load after another into you. You just sort of figured it was that Uchiha breeding kink and let him have his way to sate the desire. That maybe he couldn’t help it and that might be why you ended up beneath him for hours, folded like a pretzel and flipped over to be taken any which way.

Certainly the breeding was partial to it. Shisui really was and at some point admits to hoping you’d grow round with his baby. “…can we talk?”

Was there something wrong with the swim team? Last he checked; or well the yearly physical. They were in prime condition to root and grow inside your womb. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with him. And maybe he peeped your file and saw everything was in working order for you as well.

“Shisui-kun.” You sit with him at the table; the concern that spreads his face is immaculate. “What’s wrong?”

How does he say this without coming off as weird and maybe even a bit creepy. “I’ve been trying to get you pregnant for the better half of a year and …” full stop when you grab his hand and squeeze.

“Oh, Shisui.” That soft smile he loves so much stretches your lips. “It’s severely impossible at this time.”

Severely?

Well how in the nine circles to hell was that? ‘At this time?’ So it could or had been possible before. “Explain this, please?” It sounded so desperate when he didn’t mean it to. The words wrapped around his larynx and dried his throat, and barely sounded normal as they scratched their way out.

“It’s called birth control.” You try not to laugh, how was he unaware of this? You’ve mentioned it in the past. Maybe long ago.

“No, I would have seen you take the pill. I figured you had stopped since…well, since things are more serious.” How cute was Shisui when he struggled to express his doubts, second guessing if he was full of it or not. Certainly he knew there were other forms of contraception. The look on his face as you explain what an intrauterine device was had you almost in tears of laughter. Even someone like Obito was aware of this.

To think that a measly piece of plastic wrapped in copper was interfering with his family planning!? This was inconceivable—literally! He was an Uchiha for fucks sake. How could something with no substance other than metal and plastic prevent such powerful genes from taking root. This simply did not sit well, but eventually passed as Shisui went through the phases of realization. It almost felt wasteful to think how many times he’s tirelessly laid you down, had you cramped beneath him. Talking filth of spilling into you and milking himself bone dry.

Hot and sweaty; orgasm after orgasm. Even a silent prayer to the gods that he would be blessed with a next of kin. The sour look on his face before he sheepishly smiles said it all as you speak. “I am sorry this disappoints you.”

In reality, couples talked before they had children. Shisui was an entirely different breed of man. He didn’t operate on reckless abandon but to say that the shock value of your uterus not being at his disposal was not something he counted on when he was purposely trying to fuck a baby in you. He almost looks pitiful.

Shrugs it off. Patching up his wounded ego, “it’s fine.” When it didn’t really feel fine. A small part of you felt guilty seeing him so forlorn over it.

And another deplorably sick part of you revels in it, how desperate was Shisui to make your body his in more ways than one. “We can talk about it sometime? Typically…this is a group decision.” With what little words he could manage now, Shisui deliberated the ordeal wasn’t in his favor.

That stung a bit. His irrational need to pump you full of his own personal brand of Uchiha specimen completely outweighed the rational sense of procreation. It was a dual effort and Shisui, too, felt a twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry.”

Yes, he was. You can see it, feel it. How adorably cute he looked with puppy dog reds. So caught in his emotions that the forehead kiss you planted took a beat for it to register. “No harm, no foul.” Your forgiveness was much appreciated. You took it far better than he anticipated in this instance.

From that day forward, a new idea populated in your mind. It was stupid as all hell, but what a better birthday gift than the very thing that tormented his ability to impregnate you. It crossed your doctor as weird when you asked if you could take it with you. Usually it was a firm no, this was a biological hazard. But having the privilege of dating one of the most influential men of all times, from the most prestigious clans the Hidden Village ever produced. The only time you would ever pull that sort of weight over your head. Shisui would surely not appreciate you using the Uchiha name to get what you wanted.

Much less to instill fear into the doctor with no recourse to back it up.

But it works in your favor. Wrapped up cute, the device rests in a small box. Of course this wasn’t a real gift, it was a gag. The real gift was some specially designed and crafted ninja tools, a subscription to that expensive ass hair care he bought throughout the year and well. Your undying love and affection of course. What better way to bring a man to his knees when he came home from a long mission than to tell him that your womb was for the taking? It was hardly romantic, how were you supposed to know this man would froth at the mouth as he entered the kitchen.

Well, you should have known. The skimpy crotchless lingerie you are wearing was a welcome surprise. Then bending over into the oven as if you hadn’t noticed he was there, I mean you did. Looking over your shoulder told you all you needed to see. That thousand yard stare as the kaleidoscope behind his eyes wound tight and instantaneously bled red. Even further widening to elicit what most would call formidable. It was a treat for you when Shisui salaciously threatened you with his Mangekyō. This was a special occasion.

There wasn’t any part of you that his eyes mapped out and took in as you approached him.

“Happy birthday.” You whisper, leaning up to pepper a soft kiss on either cheek before his eagerly opening lips nip at you. “Hungry?”

How easily she looked into the Mangekyō as if it wasn’t a loaded gun. “That’s an understatement.” His hands have been running up and down your sides already, thumbing at the lacy material that did fuck all for the imagination. It literally wrote the entire thing for him. “What’s this?”

Shisui obviously knew it was his birthday, though he hadn’t expected this display of affection. Ok; that’s a blatant lie. He did expect some sort of celebration but this was on an entirely different realm than what he considered.

The opener gag gift. That little wrapped box was easy tore through in swift fashion. Though, its contents perplexed him further. Looking to you again, red silk pearls spin wildly. “That was the baby inhibitor.”

Oh. This was the thing. “Was?” Mission lag had not been kind to Shisui, it was a rough few days. Too many stalled attempts before it was accomplished. But being a genius didn’t leave him entirely ignorant. “Oh.” Like, now it clicks. That this—this exact tiny thing was the actual thing. Which meant, “you’ve been liberated.”

It was a funny way to put it, but to Shisui it meant everything. It meant that he could actually move forward with you. Not that you hadn’t already been moving forward, but this was the sort of progression he desired most.

“…has it?” He asked again, your silence only made him reconsider, and as you held his face with both palms. You gave Shisui the most tender kiss, full-mouthed and deep, he whispered through broken kisses. “Are you truly prepared for this?”

Those words alone send a heat to pool in your lower stomach. That and Shisui’s hands gripping you tightly as they trembled at the curve of your waist. Whether it be excitement or lack of sleep. Probably lack of an actual meal too. He didn’t quite feel like eating dinner in this moment.

“The situation has been rectified.” Those simple yet effective words had more of a profound impact on Shisui. Had you not realized this was something he desperately needed? “It will take a few cycles—”

Words were futile for a man in Shisui’s position. This exact moment found you backwards walked in a series of scorching katon kisses. He nearly singed the back of your throat when he kissed you this way. Maddening him further was the soft touch to his belt as you unclamp it and untucked his cock. Searing more the same kisses your jaw, throat and chest when you stroked his flaming erection. How deliciously sweet but spicy that Uchiha katon tasted as it sat in the back of your esophagus.

Your dainty bodice was left somewhere in between the hall bathroom and the master bedroom door. You were already squirming on two fingers knuckle deep before your head hit the bed. Scoffed at the loss of his cock in your hand. That crotchless little thing had Shisui spreading your slick and tonguing at your clit before you put on whatever act you had planned.

“Your…gifts.” A hopeless mewl when you came on his mouth the first time, Shisui was far too gone.

“…fuck the gifts.” This was more precious than any gift, that you were fully capable of doing him the honors of taking his genetic material and making it into something so valuable and beautiful. “…I don’t care if you take to my seed today, tomorrow or next month. This right here is for practice.”

It wasn’t any sort of sex that you and Shisui had before. Sure, sex was sex when you looked at it from any angle. But this? This was being caged under a man who had little resolve left with his actions. By no means did he hurt or leave a mark that wasn’t planted with the utmost respect for you and your body. Red marks on either side of your neck, chest and thighs. Once Shisui determines you were properly worked out enough for him.

The twitch in his cock as he luridly strokes himself before you, wild eyed and tinted. As he divides you over his length, he shucks both your knees with his arms and full on dips the entirety of his hips into the padding of your ass. It’s almost painful when he presses into you this way.

Only then did he fuck you mercilessly. The consistent deep thrusts are the first to make your eyes roll shut. Hardly ever did he use his teeth, but when you moaned out his name like that. Needy and wanting. There wasn’t anything else he thought of than to bite every inch of skin his mouth came across. You were cramped up so snug beneath him, completely immobilized and at his mercy. The subtle touch of his testicles on a full cock length thrust every now and then. His rhythm unrelenting. Shisui attentively listens to every soft mewl and whimper out of your precious mouth when his lips and fingers don’t have it preoccupied.

But damn did he love the sound of you moaning around his fingers. Choked out on three of them, as your ‘cute little pussy’—or so he called it. Fluttered and milked another deeply buried load into you, at this point he was merely tap to release. Bottoming out into a seemingly bottomless pool of his own cum. It seeped and spilled on to the nice silk sheets you intricately place earlier today.

The dull pulse of another orgasm as he continued to pump so slow, but incredulously deep. As if he purposely never fully fucked his cock into you; which was a far stretch. The many times Shisui inundated the swell of your cunt with his ever throbbing need and used it as a dump was more than you could ever count. How effortlessly he coaxed three more orgasms out of you, each one spasms and threatens another deposit out of him.

This was undoubtedly breeding. No way to describe it overwise. If you hadn’t of guess it by now, the things he said to you were more than an indication of the long night ahead of you. Powerless, but pleased to no end. You didn’t think however many orgasms he worked out of you were possible. You lay almost limp and useless. Along for the ride. Not to mention how sticky and nasty your legs felt. The amount of pain this man’s testicles would bear tomorrow morning was worth while. As if continuing to thrust into you would make his cum leak out less, Shisui was operating on what you assumed was less than half a brain cell. His eyes were lost, distant. Even with the Mangekyō boring into you this way his foresight that he was thoroughly finished hadn’t caught up.

You patted his cheek lovingly. It took a real special woman such as yourself to understand a man like Shisui.

“…Shisui-kun. You can stop now.” It wasn’t a plea, more of a distraction. There hadn’t been any warmth filling you from with in. Just whatever he managed to slosh around inside of you. It caked your insides.

But your seeet voice thrummed through his ears and his heart sank, “…oh …gods.” It was that moment he regained some semblance of control. Having fucked you on autopilot. The apologies flood as the kisses peppered your cheeks.

Here you lie, plugged. Stuffed to the brim of your cunt with his cum. Whatever didn’t manage to leak out still ever present inside you. The viscosity of it only thickens as it sits. So gentle when he slips out, the massive bubbles as his cum fully empties out of you. Shisui didn’t realize the reach of his own body. Scooping you up, he plops you into the tub.

The clock reads three hours that dinner had been sitting on the counter. The warmth of the water soothes your aching legs and back. Shisui hardly used his full strength to outmaneuver you, but this time he hadn’t the slightest how far he took it.

“I’m fine.” You smile, wholly fucked and tired. “…it was just for practice right?”

Shisui ran both hands through damp curls. He had forgotten all that was said. “It won’t be anything like that again.”

But what if you had liked it? “I’m partial to it…” dipping just below the water, up to your nose and not averting your gaze from his. “It was hot.” There you said it.

Shisui smiles the width of his mouth. Hot, you thought it was hot to be fucked like a cocksleeve? “Is that so?”

“…yes.” There wasn’t any way around it. “Just maybe, we take turns?” This was something Shisui could work with.

Slipping into the tub with you, behind you. Shisui leans you against his chest. “I can manage that.” When you mentioned it was rather endearing aside from being mostly prone. He remembers, “about those gifts?”

“After you reheat dinner.” The soft white of the foamy bath water is washed over you by Shisui with a loofah.

He could do that. He would do anything you ask of him. Especially knowing that from this moment forward, he would be undoubtedly indebted to you once that beautiful body of yours was swollen for him.

#shisui uchiha #shisui headcanons #shisui smut #Shisui smutty Sundays #uchiha clan #uchiha headcanons #uchiha family #uchiha shisui

[yume-yuurei]

Picture-perfect fairytale romance 2/3

Synopsis: Fairytales help tell children of all sides of human life without exposing them to real dangers. But what will happen if a child keeps their favorite story far too close to heart, projecting fantasies onto reality?

Part two, finally! I've been struggling with deciding how to approach the whole thing, but, thanks to how much time autumn holidays are giving me, I managed to finish this! Now, only one part left... I wonder if what I'm planning for it will be predictable, or maybe the hints weren't obvious enough to pick up on? (ﾉ*･ω･)ﾉ

TW for delusional Neige, some mild swearing, a little ooc. MC is gn.

He always thought the circumstances would be slightly... different.

As he watched them disappear in the woods, Neige unconsciously reached out a hand towards his beret. Words written in golden embroidery burned against skin: "Someday my princess will come".

But they are nothing like the fairytale princesses. Helplessness and dependence are not words suit for them. It may be far too soon to make assumptions, but the way that person held themselves, the light their whole body radiated should be a sure sign... "No, I'm thinking about this too much - too soon. That's what I'm always being told... I swear, I'm not desperate, just- how am I supposed to know when I'll meet my destined person? If I act nonchalant all the time, I might accidently drive them away and never even know of that." These thoughts brought a childish pout to his face, creases forming between perfectly sculptured brows - an unusual expression for the normally cheerful boy.

Still, some things don't add up to his expectations.

"Ah, but how could your heart have any place for doubt? Were it myself, I would never let my dear beloved go."

You don't even remember how much time passed after the strange encounter in the woods. Days trickled by leisurely, with no crazy adventures and, thankfully, no overblots. The only inconvenience so far was Ace getting into another quarrel with his housewarden and being collared for a week. You found out about it when the boy in question turned up on the doorstep of Ramshackle late in the evening - right when you and Grim were about to head to bed. Clad in old pajamas (found in one of the old wardrobes during sunday cleaning and thoroughly washed), you opened the door, interrupting Ace's violent knocking. Behind his back stood Deuce - nothing surprising; the two had been inseparable since the chandelier incident, it would've been weirder to see them apart - who made a show of scolding his companion for showing up there at an ungodly hour and dragging him along, but was just as excited about possibly staying over. You didn't even hear out the story behind their appearance, as the bright-red collar on Trappola's neck told enough, leaving the door open for them and walking up the stairs to retrieve three sets of blankets and pillows. Grim, having taken the hint, was already sprinting to the pantry to pick out his favorite snacks (and bring some for you, too). Ace and Deuce had made such sleepovers a habit for your group, so, without any further questions, they headed to Guest Room to move the furniture and make space.

"Can't believe you have the audacity to bother prefect every time you get in trouble..."

If the jab bothered Ace, he didn't let it show, "Shut up, Deucey. You pretend to be all righteous, but when they offer us to stay over, I never see you turning them down."

"That-! That's because I was taught it's rude to not accept invitations, especially from friends! And there should be at least someone watching over you to make sure you don't get into more trouble."

Coming from the kitchen with three empty glasses (and a small cup) in hands, you take the opportunity to interject, "You're just as bad, to be honest. If anyone's being responsible among us, that's got to be me."

The redhead scoffs with crossed arms, "Uh-huh, responsible my ass... You're only right about one thing - Deucey being a walking hazard."

You exchange more sarcastic remarks, with sleepy Grim lying stretched out across your lap, until the topic eventually switches to more menial things: clubs, teachers, fresh gossip. One particular talk makes you recall the encounter you had a few days earlier.

"And then Vil started raging when a commercial came up on some guy's phone. It was that new music video with his kidfaced arch-nemesis; He was trying to keep it cool, but I swear he almost chucked a water bottle at Rook when that creep approached him."

"Really? I did see him annoyed a few times, but for Vil, of all people, to attempt a murder in broad daylight. Who could've bothered him that much?"

"Eh, it's Neige for you, nothing new. These two have had a rivalry going on for a long time. Did you not know? Their fans have the wildest and most ridiculous discourses ever, it's kinda fun to watch."

You tear your eyes away from the ongoing game of cards, looking up at Ace with furrowed brows.

"Neige, you say...? Can you show me a photo?"

His face noticeably scrunched up, "Ew, why would you even want to look at him? He's just another one of those pretentious freaks from RoYaL SwOrDs", clear disdain and disgust in his voice switched to smugness as he leaned closer to you, almost draping himself over your shoulder, "Aren't I more handsome, hm? And, unlike that stuck-up princey, I can give you all~ the attention in the world, without any fans hogging it."

Deuce, annoyed with his friend's touchiness, grabs Ace by the collars and nearly throws him off of you, "I wonder why you don't have any fans, then. Even prefect is more popular than you are, dumbass!"

Upon noticing your unamused (and somewhat pissed off) frown, he hurries to retaliate, "That's not what I meant! You're really cool, so it's obvious you'd have some fans, but you're also new here, and you spend more time with us and not others, and I didn't-"

"I get it, you can calm down..."

"...sorry again."

A bunch of idiots, that's what they are. Still, it's hard to be mad with them, your two first and best friends here, for long. Someone shoves a phone right into your face (thankfully, without breaking your nose) just as you start going deeper into your thoughts.

It's Ace phone with Magicam open on it. Before you is a profile of a model and actor, as seen from the description. You scroll a little and open the last posted picture. True to your suspicions, it turns out to be exactly the Neige that you met after classes some time ago. Eyes lighting up in recognition, you murmur a quiet "Huh, I know him". That brings out a reaction from the other two.

They kept on pestering you, until you gave in and told them the whole story. Neither one seemed convinced. And you didn't need them to be, as long as they'd stop pestering you, they were free to believe whatever their sturdy selfish hearts desired.

"Thank you for accompanying me, prefect. I hope our joined efforts will be fruitful."

Jade smiles in his usual polite manner, fixing straps on his backpack. He leads you along the forest trail, keeping his eyes on the ground on the lookout for mushrooms, hidden by wide leaves and long blades of grass. As the only member of Mountains lovers club, Jade was eager to have somebody - especially the infamous magicless prefect of Ramshackle - come along, even if he knew you only agreed because of some favor you needed from him. Both equipped with light camping gear, you venture up a hill in search of mushrooms. On the way to the top Jade tells you why he took you there in the first place: apparently, on one of the Botanical lessons he learned of a rare species of mushrooms, last seen around that hill; to his delight, the said species weren't hard to care for - a perfect addition to Jade's terrarium - and the way from NRC wasn't long or tiresome, which allowed him to bring you along without worrying about you collapsing halfway from exhausting, not quite used to walking big distances.

Whatever fears you might've had for the trip instantly evaporate when you notice how passionate your senior is about his hobby. It's not the fear-inducing hitman everybody sees and describes him as, but only an ordinary highschooler ranting about his interests to the first willing listener. What a heartfelt scene.

"...and it's told to possess strong poison, able to paralyze a mammal as big as an elephant from just a bite. Why, isn't that curious? I'd love to have one of them in my disposition."

...up until the moment his (seemingly inherited) thirst for murder lets itself be known.

The higher the trail goes, the more changes add to scenery. Colorful wild plants and berries, butterflies and beetles of various kinds. And most importantly - air, fresh and free, a fine change compared to stuffed school air you've grown used to.

"According to the data I collected, it should be growing around this area. I propose splitting up for more efficiency. Can I trust you not to get lost, mauled by beasts or poisoned?", looking you over, he thinks for a second, soon reconsidering, "No, it would be best for you to just stay put and wait for me there. Do try not to wander off too far, and call for me if needed - after all, for this short while your safety is my responsibility."

"Then why did you even drag me along?"

"For company. Hiking is most enjoyable with a companion. Take this as a chance to catch a break from all the bustle your poor body has had to endure. Do not worry, I won't be away for more than five minutes."

He frames his words (so unlike the thinly veiled threats and mocking remarks he'd usually make in school) with a nod, leisurely going his own way, often bending down to check under trees and most suspicious patches of grass for mushrooms, before he disappears from sight.

You decide to take a seat on a dry stump, surrounded by vibrant-green moss. Birds' trill fills in the growing silence. Leaves rustle somewhere over your head - something you would've hardly heard a minute or two ago. As if trying to accommodate a picky guest, the nature around you beams in full flourish, bringing a sure sense of comfort. Despite having intruded its domain, you don't feel alien - with no visible threats nearby, you follow Jade's advice and give yourself permission to relax... only to be disturbed by someone's voice reaching from down the hill.

"Hey! Anybody here? Please, help me!"

...No need to think twice to recognize the voice. What a coincidence. There's no way he just appeared there, far away from both his and your schools, all by himself, and didn't even you and Jade's path.

"By the way, five minutes should've already passed by now. Where the hell is he?"

This whole situation is starting to look like one big ridiculous play. It wouldn't be so surprising if Vil suddenly popped out from under a rock, shouting 'Cut!' and reprimanding you for lacking proper emotions. You drag a hand across your face, constructing a simple plan in head: rescue Neige, tell him off, find Jade and pass out on the couch in Ramshackle. With a set of tasks in mind you venture down the trail - good thing it was obvious enough not to get lost among the greenery - and follow the boy's calls, not without tripping a couple of times on the way.

"Heey- ah, hello! Thank the Sevens you were near!", here he is, hanging upside down from a tree branch, legs tangled up in a... hunting net? "For a moment I was afraid I'll have to hang there all day and night. Could you please get me down?"

"What were you doing there in the first place?", moreover in such a casual attire, as if he just walked out of his room...

"Ah, that... is a long story. May I tell you after my feet get to touch ground?", he answered with a sheepish smile.

You sigh, but relent, reaching into one of your pockets for a switchblade, then grasp the rope (it wasn't hanging too high) and cut it. "Should've told him to brace for the fall", you thought, watching him land face-first into dirt. While Neige was preoccupied with brushing off his cardigan, you pocket your knife, preparing to go search for your mushroom-obsessed companion (how ironic for the one who was worried about you getting lost to disappear himself), but not without the black-haired boy scrambling after you.

"Thank you! Once again, I don't know what I would do if it weren't for you." "Mhm." "I'm not sure how, but I suddenly found myself here after following a butterfly, and-" "Yeah, great. You can go back home now." "But how can I leave and not even offer a token of my appreciation for your help? How about-"

Jade better come back as soon as humanly possible, because, Seven be witness, you might just tie this boy to the biggest tree in the forest and leave him to be eaten by wolves. At least Schoenheit will have a reason for a genuine smile this one time.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yuurei's fics #gender neutral reader #neige leblanche #neige x reader #twst neige #yandere #x reader

[emmyrosee]

“Do you think we should get a hamster?”

The question comes suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere specific- not that you’re not grateful, he’s kicking your ass in Mario Kart right now- but all the question does it make you pause the game, rest the controller on your thigh and grab a sour straw from the bowl between yourself and your roommate.

“That’s a pretty big step, atsu.”

“We literally live together,” he says, casting you a cocked eyebrow.

You roll your eyes and throw the candy at him, which he quickly pops into his mouth, “yes, and you pay me a monthly rent… which,” you look at him accusingly, “I have not received in three months.”

“Excuse you, I give you my leftovers and I force my brother to come cook us dinner at least twice a week, I’d say it’s even.” He’s pouting, actually pouting, and you click your tongue and rest your head on his shoulder to try and make him feel better.

“Okay- let’s think this through,” you begin, and Atsumu offers you a soft ‘mmhm,’ for you to continue. “Let’s say, in theory, we do get a hamster; who will clean the cage? We both work, and I don’t want to come home to a nasty ass cage. And what if we forget to feed it? And if I kick your bitchass out, who gets the hamster?”

“First of all,” he says, holding up a finger for dramatic effect. “I’m offended the thought of you kicking me out has crossed your mind.”

“Ever since I found out you drool.”

“Second of all -asshole. Second of all,” another finger extends, “I’ll clean the cage! I have Sunday’s off, and I get out of practice early on Thursday’s to visit my mom and pop. Plus, if one of us puts food and water down every morning, it will be good for the next few hours- then, I can refill it when I get home.”

“Atsu, you can barely remember to take off your shoes when you get home,” you sigh, slight amusement in your tone. “I’ve literally seen you wake up with your sneakers still on.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware this conversation was about bashin’ me,” he says, pulling forwards so your head falls, and his hands raise in defense. “Here I was, thinkin’ we were talkin’ about a hamster.” You laugh as you sit up, and even though Atsumu wants to pretend he’s offended, there’s a smirk that’s dying to spread over his cheeks, and he’s trying his absolute hardest to fight it off.

You sigh and rest your head on your hand, and it’s propped against the back of the couch, “you’ve really put some thought into this, huh?”

He nods, but it’s more sincere than you’d expected from him, “I just… think it would be nice to have some company when the other person’s not here, you know?”

“…”

“…”

“…Atsumu?”

“Shut up-“

“Are you worried I’ll get lonely while you go away with the team?”

“No!” He defends. “I know you’re a grown adult who can take care of themself!”

“I never said you didn’t-“

“You implied it.”

You click your tongue again, this time in adoration, and you move your hand to curl into his soft, golden locks, an affection he always melted into. “Sweetie, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve always been able to hold the fort while you’re gone.”

“But you’re always so… sad when I hang up the phone.”

“Am not!” You snort, swatting at his chest. There’s a beat of comfortable silence while he puffs out a laugh. “But even if I do sound sad, it’s because you’re my best friend. Of course I miss you when you’re gone.”

“I don’t want you to miss me. I want you to be happy-“

“I’m happy when you come back,” you point out.

This, has his cheeks flushing a deep pink, and his head whips to you in surprise, as if this was news to him. “What? You think I pick your ass up from the airport at ungodly hours because I felt like it? I do it because I want to. Because I care about you getting home safe.”

His cheeks burn hotter, and you giggle at the sight. His head buries in his face and he mutters a soft “you can’t just say that…” from his palms.

Taking mercy on him, he seems stern about this, and if he’s put so much thought and concern into how you’ll feel while he’s gone, hey, maybe it’s worth the shot?

“Okay,” you hum, smiling as you relish in the sight of seeing him so flustered and his cheeks a deep scarlet. You plant a kiss to his temple, and he tenses up slightly before peeking at you through his fingers.

“Let’s get a hamster, ‘Tsumu.”

#I love him #atsumu miya #atsumu miya fluff #atsumu miya x gn!reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x reader fluff #atsumu miya imagine #atsumu miya haikyuu #miya atsumu #miya atsumu fluff #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x gn!reader #miya atsumu x reader fluff #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x y/n #roommate!au #roommate!atsumu

[gyuv1nist]

you belong with me

sung hanbin x reader

you sat on the bleachers watching the football team practice for the big game which was coming up. the sun beat down, casting long shadows across the field as the team ran through exhausting drills. “it’s not like you to sit here and watch practice.” you looked to your left and saw your good friend, matthew, take a seat next to you.

“it’s not like we have any exams to be revising for.” you scoffed, crossing your arms.

“you’re here to watch him aren’t you?” he asked, shifting his focus onto you.

him?

sung hanbin is the kind of person who seems to have it all - looks, charm, intelligence, and talent. with a winning smile and a confident aura, he turns heads wherever he goes. but beneath the surface, there's so much more to him than the title of captain of the football team or school president. he's always there for his friends and loved ones, offering support and encouragement when they need it most.

“was it obvious?” the question came through a laugh as you leaned back and finally take a look at your best friend.

“is the window not enough for you?” he joked, earning a light whack on the back of his nape.

hanbin was your neighbour. you found out when the moving truck was a bit too loud one sunday morning, but you were quick to receive an apology from the boy with a box of homemade pastries. although you were yearning to go back to your bed, your parents invited him in and made you guys talk. you were quick to learn that he was going to start in your school and major in the same subject as you.

after a long talk, you returned to your room and sat at your desk, unable to get his smile out of your head. it lights up his entire face, filling the room with warmth and joy. it's the kind of smile that's contagious, making you feel happy and at ease. you just met the boy and you’re already falling for him?

you pushed yourself towards the blinds, wanting to let some sunshine in. but you find yourself smiling at what you find once you open them. the handsome boy was smiling, holding up a sheet of paper at his window.

[do u wanna walk to class together on monday?]

you fought back a smile as you shook your head at his action and rummaged around for a notepad and pen.

[gimme one good reason why i should]

[you don’t have to ofc! but i feel like it would be nice!]

and from then on, the two of you hit it off. everything about him made you want him to be around you more and more. sure, it was the little things, like holding the door open or making sure you were walking on the side furthest from the cars. but also he learnt your coffee order and brought you it weekly, and always brought a spare hoodie on the cooler days since you weren’t the best at dressing according to the weather.

at ungodly hours of the morning, you found yourself sitting at your window (in a growing pile of paper) giggling at the boy who was across from you. it got to the point where you went to drink from your body spray.

[those aren’t supposed to be consumed silly]

[anything can be if you try hard enough]

you would never forget the way he would laugh at your weird remarks. the way his eyes would light up before he leant back and chuckled, one hand on his chest.

at last, you were finally happy to wake up at 8:30 sharp every morning. until you slowly realise you weren’t the only person whose order was in hanbin’s list. and slowly, those after-class visits to the arcade, art gallery or even just the walks to and from class were becoming slim to none. by the time you got into bed, hanbin hadn’t left a message for you on his window.

the days when it went from bad to horrendous were still clear in your mind and to stop seeing those horrible days you decided to not show up at all. maybe it got to the point where you forgot you still had company other than hanbin that would stay by your side. after a series of knocking, you mustered up the strength to go to the door and find matthew standing there, eyebrows all furrowed, with kamden and jay standing right behind him. (i miss the english trio fr)

“why are you here?”

“we came to make sure you were okay.”

you were anything but okay and they could see it from the way you look defeated, not even able to lie your way out of it. you felt like it shouldn’t have even affected you that much, even going as far as to thinking that you should’ve seen it coming. why was it so easy to fall in love with him?

the point at which it got even worse was when you all decided to go to the friendly football game after your respective classes. it was the day you saw him with someone else.

“i heard she asked him out for prom,” you said, the words barely coming out as a whisper. the sight made you sick to your stomach but there wasn’t really anything you could do- she was perfect. popular, rich, the centre of the cheerleading squad and there wasn’t a moment where a hair was out of place.

“apparently he didn’t accept her, something about it not feeling right?.” kamden muttered, watching as the cheerleader walked away from hanbin towards the sidelines.

which makes you remember the day when you finally did talk to hanbin again.

it was a boring, gloomy day.

the rain aimlessly bounced off your window whilst you were listening to music. hoping that the minimal light would at least make you feel the slightest bit better, you opened the blinds and were shocked to see hanbin sitting on his bed. his eyes trailed up and you felt your heartstrings pull as you fail to see the soft glimmer which would shine through his pupils.

[you ok? :(]

your friends would kill you if they knew how fast you grabbed your notepad and marker pen.

[just tired of drama]

[sorry :(]

his lips pressed into a line as he shrugged, barely being able to muster up a smile. the words on your notepad echoed in your head again and again as you stared at them, your heart beating at an unhealthily fast pace.

by the time you mustered up the courage and held it up, his blinds were shut. you could only blame yourself now.

after all those times when you would sit at the back of the lecture hall talking about his favorite songs, the way you would sit and let him ramble on about his dreams, the fact that you knew exactly what to say to make him laugh when he was about to cry- you at least expected hanbin to acknowledge the fact that there was a bond between the both of you with overwhelming chemistry.

you were dreaming about the day when he would wake up and find that you were what he was looking for.

but now you were convinced it was all your fault. maybe if you had confessed earlier, you wouldn’t have lost him and just maybe, that he would belong with you.

it’s now the night of prom and after rejecting a promposal or two, you’re left in your room with your stuffed animals and netflix rolling in the background. you keep your blinds open, praying that hanbin would show up for at least a few moments.

and those prayers were answered.

[are you coming tonight?]

[no :/ staying in ]

[wish you were]

you smile and roll your eyes jokingly, standing up to get a hoodie to bunch up in during this long night. whilst scanning the wardrobe for something nice and warm, your eyes lay on the dress which you had planned on wearing to prom (in the event that hanbin did ask you out).

you turn your head and your vision focuses on the piece of paper which lays alone on the desk before your eyes land back on the dress.

and you had never gotten ready so fast before. you usually hated gut feelings, but there was something that was telling you to suck it up and just tell hanbin your true feelings. your brain was done with the frustrating questions which you constantly ponder on.

just why can’t he see that you are the one who understands him? the one who’s been here all along?

hands desperately grasp the piece of paper as you run down the stairs, a rush of adrenaline now surging through your body. you slam the door shut and run towards the road, managing to flag down a taxi and scurrying inside, wondering how the taxi driver even understood the clump of words that came out of your mouth.

as you step out you curse the adrenaline for stopping now, the moment you had to walk in with eyes all over you, the moment which could end up in total humiliation. you push past sweaty bodies, looking for the one who had stolen your heart.

“hey oh my god! i thought you weren’t coming!” you mutter a phrase of relief as you saw jay standing there, eyes wide with shock. “you look gorgeous!”

you smile at your friend before remembering the sole reason why you showed up in the first place. “hi jay! you look amazing but i’m in a massive rush right now i’ll explain everything after but please tell me you know where hanbin is.” once again, your words almost come out all fast and breathy, eyes scanning the whole room.

the corner of his lips rises as his eyes dart straight past your head, with your body following suit. “i think you’ll find your man standing right there.”

and at the moment, everything but you and the figure standing in front of you drowns out. when he finally notices you, he slowly makes his way over, his eyes locked on yours.

the intensity of his gaze was strong but delicate as if he was seeing you for the first time and taking in every detail. as he draws closer, you can smell the sweet cologne he's wearing, the scent filling your senses and making you feel dizzy with desire.

“you came?”

you want to express how you feel- to tell him how much he means to you, shit you feel like screaming it, but the words simply won't come. as hanbin’s eyes glaze over with concern you can feel the weight of your unspoken thoughts becoming heavier and heavier. so instead you reach into your purse and pull out the folded note which would put all your emotions into one phrase perfectly.

i love you

if you could fall into a pit of darkness now, you would.

on the other hand, hanbin can feel the warmth spreading through his chest, a wave of euphoria. he wants to tell you how he feels, to hold you in his arms and never let go, how he’s so stupid to take this long to realise you were the one for him, but he's afraid that he'll mess everything up. so he reaches into his blazer pocket, pulls out a piece of paper and opens it.

i love you

he knows that he's found the missing piece of his heart. he takes your hand, pulling you close to him, and he can feel the beat of your heart matching his own. in that moment, hanbin knows that he's found something special, something worth fighting for. and as he looks into your eyes, he realizes that he's in love with you, completely and irrevocably.

the familiar sight of hanbin’s eyes filling with nothing but love had never been so beautiful.

and before you know it- he leans in, his heart pounding in his chest, and presses his lips to yours. it's a soft, gentle kiss, filled with all the emotions hanbin had been holding back for so long. and as he pulls away, he knows that he's found something truly special - a love that will last a lifetime.

“i should be mad at you for how long it took you to see that-

“i belong with you? yeah i know- and i’m really sorry. but let me make it up to you.”

and for the first time (but most definitely not the last) you watch the sunrise from the same window, finally where the both of you belong.

—————————————————————————————

a/n : i am truly sorry for the lack of updates :( it’s exam szn for me so i’m constantly drowning in revision but i finally managed to finish this hanbin fic!! OBVIOUSLY its based off of you belong with me (taylor’s version ofc) and i tried my best to use the song as plot!!

i hope you enjoy this, mwah i love u all

- minah!

#zerobaseone #zerobaseonefics #zb1 x reader #zb1 scenarios #boys planet imagines #boys planet scenarios #boys planet 999 #boys planet #zb1 #sung hanbin imagines #sung hanbin x reader #sung hanbin fluff

[hajiberry]

10:36 a.m. - Iwaizumi

You took Sundays very seriously. No one was to be up before 10’oclock, no one was to leave the house before 3 pm, no one was allowed to wear anything but pajamas in the house, and most importantly breakfast had to be cooked together.

You thought these rules were simple, quite easy to follow. But for some reason almost every sunday at least one of your rules were broken. Your husband either attempted to leave for the gym at an ungodly hour (8 am but that was extremely unacceptable for a Sunday), trying to run some errand in the morning or trying to cook you breakfast which while you appreciated it it completely went against your rules.

Today was a rare Sunday that Iwaizumi was sticking to your Sunday rules. You weren’t sure what the occasion was but you never questioned it when you woke up at 10:30 on a rainy Sunday morning to your husband still lying in bed next to you. Just as you were about to close your eyes and let sleep pull you back in, you felt light kisses along your shoulder.

“Morning”, he mumbled into your skin, lightly groaning, you rolled over, eyes still closed as you gave him a sleepy smile.

“Funny seeing you here”, you said as your hand came up to tangle in his hair.

“Expecting someone else?“, you laughed, rolling your eyes at the accusatory look he was giving you.

“Yeah,I was expecting an empty bed”, you teased,

“Decided to grace you with my presence this morning”, he mumbled into your neck, sliding his arm up your thigh and to your waist, pulling you closer against his body.

“How sweet”, you said softly, closing your eyes and letting yourself enjoy his body against yours.

Just as you closed your eyes, seconds away from letting sleep consume you, Iwa spoke up again.

“I thought we could make cinnamon rolls this morning”, looking up, you gave your husband a sweet smile that was rare for the morning before coffee.

“I knew I married you for a reason”, he chuckled, pressing his lips to your hairline as his hand drew shapes on your back.

“Yeah and I bet last night wouldn’t be one of those reasons”, you rolled your eyes at his teasing tone.

“I didn’t say reasons, I said reason. One singular reason”, he rolled his eyes, trying and failing to hide the smile tugging at his lips.

“I’ll keep that in mind”, he said as he stretched before sitting up and getting off the bed. You gasped, pulling the covers back to shield yourself from the cold air as he turned a lamp on.

“Hajiii”, you whined, now shielding your eyes from the light.

“Don’t you want cinnamon rolls?”, you nodded, about to ask for a few more minutes before your covers where thrown off you and you were hoisted up onto your husbands shoulders.

You decided not to complain about being taken from your bed since you had a feeling this Sunday was going to follow all of your guidelines.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #iwaizumi x reader #iwa x reader #iwaizumi scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu blurbs #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fic #haikyuu headcanons #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi headcanons #iwaizumi hajime smut #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime fluff #haikyuu iwa x reader #haikyuu iwa #haikyuu iwaizumi #.writing ☕️

[captainnameless]

I humbly ask for Nando babysitting cheeky little Lando 🙏 cuz every Nando and Lando crumb I see is honestly too cute

no because i can see it!!! Nando claims he’s too old to be “doing the babysitting” *gestures vaguely*

but Daniel’s at his wits end, Lando will not fall asleep, it’s a Sunday night post race which means they’re both knackered. Lando however, has decided he wants Carlos. Carlos who had to fly out the same night because of commitments and has no cell service on the plane.

so Lando’s been crying, wailing really. desperately clutching onto Daniel with “want Papa!”, overly tired but not giving in.

Daniel doesn’t know what to do really, Lando’s finally quieted down a little, but he’s blinking big red rimmed eyes at Daniel that don’t look like they’re gonna shut any time soon.

Lando’s voice is rough from crying, and so Daniel tries room service for some tea, only to find out they don’t have 24 hour room service, Daniel’s almost desperate enough to use the “do you know who the fuck I am?” card; considering the price they’re paying per night and how badly he needs Lando to fall asleep, but hoists both him and Lando out of bed after being told there’s a self service floor that has a coffee machine that serves boiling water too.

he holds Lando’s hand in hopes of preventing a tantrum when they step into the hallway, Daniel praying no one else is awake at this ungodly hour.

to his surprise, they almost bump into Fernando when the round the corner who gives them a just as a surprised look.

“You’re up?”

Daniel sighs, pulling Lando into his side when he can hear the sniffles start up again. “We’re having a bit of trouble falling asleep, huh Bub?”

Daniel can see Fernando melt a little at the sight of Lando, soft despite the tough reputation.

“Niñito.” Fernando coos. “It’s late, little boys should be asleep.”

Lando simply whines, tears gathering in his eyes again. “Papa.”

Fernando looks up at Daniel, who mouths “Carlos” to him and he nods knowingly.

“Entiendo.” Fernando says and then reaches out for Lando, who, to Daniel’s surprise, goes willingly.

Fernando wraps Lando’s up against his chest and Lando melts into the touch so much he even brings his legs up.

Fernando hoists him up with little effort, Daniel’s not surprised. He’s seen Fernando’s workout routine and has definitely never won an arm wrestling match.

Fernando start humming something in Spanish then, speaking words Daniel does not understand and gently swaying Lando from side to side.

He sings no longer than 5 minutes and so when Fernando turns to Daniel and asks “Is he out?” while turning around fully so Daniel gets a look at Lando’s face mushed against Fernando’s shoulder he’s ready to be met with wide open eyes. But Lando’s out. Out cold even, mouth slightly open and drooling onto Fernando’s shirt.

“What the fuck.” Daniel says, loudly. Then clasps a hand over his mouth, terrified he’ll wake Lando again.

Fernando laughs, turns back to face Daniel. “Figured that would work.”

“What did you do? Did you hex him?”

Fernando laughs again. “It’s a lullaby, a classic really. I figured Carlos might sign it to him, lucky guess.”

Daniel slumps against the wall, rubbing his hands over his face. “Congratulations.” Daniel says. “You’ve just been upgraded.”

#littlef1adventures #lf1a.minific #this was not really cheeky Lando and so i shall be back at a later date with that #but this popped into my head #and it had to come out

[autoantonyms]

I’m finally home now so I guess it’s time for my Joker Out Utrecht gig report

- I had to wake up at an ungodly hour to catch my trains and the JO traveling curse really chose to fuck me over that day. My original 3 hour train journey turned into a 6 1/2 hour nightmare of delays and unexpected route changes. In the end I made it and I mean it was totally worth it!!

- i was going alone again and I expected to make new friends (like the last time as well) which I did! I met so many amazing people, finally got to know some of my mutuals and I can‘t wait to see (almost) all of you on Sunday again! 🫶🏻

- the queuing situation was a bit chaotic (GA) and before the doors opened I felt like passing out at one point cause we were all just smushed together and the air was so bad you couldn’t really breathe

- Raciks art looked so small on the big stage but it is so beautiful!

- Lorem Ipsum was so good!! I haven’t really checked them out before hand but I was positively surprised. The singer has a really beautiful voice and she was getting a little emotional seeing the reaction from the crowd, which I thought was so cute. Some of their songs already made it into my playlist. I can only recommend checking them out. (Even tho I have to admit they sound *way* better live)

- JC Stewart was also very entertaining. His voice is so good omg.

- seeing the boys on stage again was just as surreal as the last time but I loved every second of it.

- first of all the outfits. Like Bojans Shirt. With the fucking lipstick stain. I’m deceased (Lets all thank Maike for the beautiful Shirt). Kris very very good fitting pants were also a highlight of the night. And Jure wearing eyeliner again 😩 holy moly

- Bojan sounded so sick. It doesn’t really come off like that in the videos but you could really hear it live.

- The setlist was nice, I got all of my favorites so I can’t really complain. But sadly no Demoni scream and no NGVOT :((

- Kris was actively working against me this time. Everytime I’d taken my phone out to take a video of him, he fucking disappeared and everytime I was just enjoying the show he stood right in front of me. (Baby I need visual reminders that I saw you 😭)

- I enjoyed the prolonged version of UM and it was nice seeing Bojan in the crowd but the only thing going through my mind was: „This man is so short“ But I love my short king <3

- Kris trying to place the dutch flag on his microphone stand was so cute. The way he looked at it to make sure it wasn’t falling off 😩

- Hearing Everybody’s waiting live for the first time really made me emotional af. That was something I was expecting but damn. I can relate to that song way too much, so it hit me hard. Also Bojan asking us something along the lines of „do you also have panic attacks?“ and the crowd went screaming „yeahh“ and he was like „yuhu let’s go panic attacks“ idk I thought that was funny

Overall I‘m very happy that I went to that gig and I can’t wait for Cologne and Munich!

#joker out #bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin #jure maček #nace jordan #jan peteh #see you soon tour

[jungle-angel]

Sunshine Of His Life (Calvin Evans x Reader)

Summary: Spring has finally arrived in your home town and Calvin has a little surprise for you and your daughter

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, birth, parenthood etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse Meggy dahling, he's back!!!!!! (lol).

"Alright buddy, c'mon, lets head home," Calvin said to Six-Thirty, loading him up in the car.

Six-Thirty yipped before Calvin unhooked his leash and pulled out of the parking lot of the college. Spring fever was already beginning to set in, not just with the students, but with the teachers as well, the weather nice enough to be able to hold classes outside and thank God he had two weeks off for spring break. No lessons, no planning, no having to be up at some ungodly hour to be at the college for eight in the morning. Just you, him, Six-Thirty and the baby.

He had parked the car next to the sidewalk, relieved that the little dress shop on the corner was still open. All week he had his eyes on the two dresses in the window, both of pale blue lace and the smaller baby's dress coming with a pair of little white buckle shoes to match. All week long Calvin had passed by the window, envisioning both you and Baby Ellen in those matching blue dresses, sitting with him, his mother, father, siblings, nieces and nephews in the pews at St. Mary's on Easter Sunday. After two weeks of scraping together the money for them, he could wait no longer.

He let Six-Thirty out, once again hooking the leash to his collar before going in. The tiny bell above the door rang and Mrs. O'Neil's gaze soon met his.

"Wondered when or if you'd finally cave and come by Calvin," she laughed. "How are you?"

"Not too bad, Mabel," Calvin answered. "Just getting off work."

"Ah I see," Mabel O'Neil answered. "And who's this handsome gentleman you've brought in? I don't think we've met before."

"Six-Thirty usually comes with me to work during the week," Calvin explained. "(Y/n)'s home with the baby at the moment."

Mabel gasped. "Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed. "You know, I remember your mother telling me when the rest of the girls were at the house for our Friday game of mah-jongg, but I hadn't seen head or tail of her since then. Are you here to buy something for the both of them? I am so sorry, me talking your ear off."

Calvin laughed a little bit. "Yes actually," he said. "If the two blue dresses in the window are available, could I by any chance take them?"

"Oh by all means!" Mrs. O'Neil told him. "And since it's getting close to Easter, I'll give you half off for the trouble."

"Oh no Mabel you don't have to...."

"Calvin, I insist," Mrs. O'Neil told him. "The other day Doris Barone and Anna Rubenstein were in here and they saw Freida Burns in here trying to buy it for that impossible pig of a niece of hers. (Y/n) and the baby deserve it more than that spoiled, wretched brat anyhow."

"Thanks Mabel," Calvin chuckled.

Mabel quickly took the two dresses and the shoes and packed them carefully in tissue paper. "Oh," she said suddenly. "I almost forgot. The wicked old witch was eyeing this too, but I certainly wasn't about to let her have it."

Out of the jewelry case, Mabel took a little pearl baby bracelet and placed it in a white and gold box with a little bit of cotton packing. "A little gift from me and Lenny, to you and (y/n)," Mabel told him.

"Aunt Mabel this is really too much," Calvin said with a huge smile. "Thank you so much."

"Think nothing of it," Mabel told him. "Last thing I'll give you is a Milkbone for Six-Thirty and send you on your way. Oh and let your mother know that Mariah Daniels and I will be at the house on Friday for mah-jongg and for Easter dinner if you can."

"Thanks Aunt Mabel, I'll let her know," Cal told her as soon as he had the box and had paid for it.

He left the shop and headed back to the car, carefully placing the box in the trunk and letting Six-Thirty lay down in the back seat. Calvin couldn't wait to get home and see the look on your face when you opened your gift.

********************************

You absolutely loved spring and summer, the time of year when you could really be outside in the sunshine and when the weather was warm and perfect for gardening.

You clipped and pulled away all the old debris that had piled up in the fall while Ellen played on the red checkered picnic blanket. You smiled hearing her little baby giggles as she mouthed her favorite ball. You yourself were busy digging in the rose beds, clipping the stems back and covering the ground with fresh mulch and making sure your bluebells had enough room to grow too.

Your face lit up when you saw Calvin pulling into the driveway, letting Six-Thirty out into the yard, the dog making a beeline for Ellen who giggled as he sniffed and licked her face. "Well somebody's happy to be home," you chuckled.

"That makes two of us," Calvin said, sitting in the green grass next to you and pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. "Missed you two all day."

"And so didn't Ellen and I," you told him. "God I can't wait for that new teaching position at the college. It'll be so much less stressful and not only will the girls be able to help me, but I'll be able to teach the way I want for once."

Calvin hummed as his lips ghosted over the soft skin of your cheek. You felt your legs clench just a little bit as he pressed a feather-light kiss in that spot. "I got you a little something on the way home," he said.

"Oh?"

Calvin made his way to the car and back with the box, returning to his spot next to you. You carefully opened it up and gasped at the sight of the two blue dresses inside.

"Oh Cal! These are beautiful!" you exclaimed happily. "I'm afraid to touch them, I don't wanna get them dirty."

Calvin laughed before you kissed each other again. "I saw those in Aunt Mabel's dress shop and couldn't resist," he explained. "Besides, you and Ellen deserve to look your best on Easter Sunday."

You kissed your husband again before he went to go scoop Ellen up into his arms, littering her round little face with kisses. You carefully covered the box and brought it inside with you, following Calvin, Ellen and Six-Thirty inside for lunch. You stowed the dresses away and rejoined your husband in the kitchen, excited and happy beyond words at the little surprise he had brought home for you.

#calvin evans #calvin evans x reader #lessons in chemistry

[hgejfmw-hgejhsf]

Six Sentence Sunday!

It's still MORNING here, y'all. Look at ME, posting my part in the MORNING. Don't get used to this haha.

A million thanks to @kiwiana-writes for always greeting me with a tag on these Sunday mornings and forever blowing my mind that someone as wildly talented as you actually wants to read what I write, and to my lovely @ssmtskw for being the sweetest, loveliest human and for giving me a tag this morning as well! I adore you both, and I thank you so so much.

Without further ado, here you are!

“You remember last Christmas?” Of course he remembers. While not the first time Alex had rung him at an ungodly hour of the night, his voice providing the perfect soundtrack to another waking stretch of twilight hours looming ahead of Henry like a lonely, abandoned path that he frequently traversed alone, it was the first time Alex had sought him out for counsel. The first time he’d been made privy to the inner workings not of Alex’s brilliant mind but of his equally brilliant heart. His first glimpse not at the perfect First Son of the United States, all charming smiles and clever quips, but of a youngest child who wanted nothing more than a quiet, peaceful holiday spent with a family fractured into two pieces years before, their jagged edges still capable of wounding all who ventured too close. It was the words of a son tired of straddling the ever-widening chasm between two pieces of his heart. Henry wouldn’t forget that night, couldn’t forget that night, and all of the private thoughts and fears that Alex had entrusted him with, for as long as he lived. “I do,” is all that Henry manages around the lump in his throat.

Going to toss out some tags for: @whimsymanaged, @indestructibleheart, @littlemisskittentoes, @suseagull04, @statueinthestonetoo, @rockyroadkylers, @affectionatelyrs, @heybuddy-drabbles, @anincompletelist, @happiness-of-the-pursuit, @ships-to-sail, @inexplicablymine, @leaves-of-laurelin, @cricketnationrise, @clottedcreamfudge, and @vanillahigh00

I NEED to see what y'all are working on, so please tag me in your posts!

#six sentence sunday #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfic #rwrb fanfiction #firstprince fic #my writing #my wips #my fics

[chainmailchalamet]

Run Rabbit, Run (Dark! Eddie Munson 🍒🪽), Pt. 2

tags: roommates to lovers, modern!metalhead!eddie munson(maybe not a complete face match to ST!Eddie, but his look is up to your imagination), predator/prey dynamic , a lil degradation, impact, knife play, jealousy, possessive behavior + language, dacryphilia, kind of fucked up intense dirty talk, face slapping, choking, morallygrey!eddie, they may or may not be completely human (also up to interpretation), and as usual always!black always!non-binary POV 🌟🍒

————

the tension breaks because of course it does— because eddie, from the moment you move in, seems to be on a one-man mission to pull at every single one of your threads until you unravel at his feet, just so he can put you back together again.

and if you confronted him about it, he’d play dumb about it, because in his defense, he’s not really doing anything he wouldn’t usually do. nothing he wasn’t already doing before you moved in with him — he’d say you were being paranoid, that it was kind of adorable actually.

but you know you’re not, that he’s not just doing what he’d otherwise be doing, that his actions are a targeted attempt to make you lose your mind, to crawl under your skin and live there. that to him, it’s just a matter of time before you snap.

it starts with the cooking thing — he’s always cooking, has been attached to the kitchen since he was a kid, living with his uncle wayne down in virginia — sweet, sweltering hot virginia, where he got his twang and his first tattoos (the stick and poke smiley face on his ankle, the first set of knuckle tats, the bones of his face piece), his love of smoking cigarettes off the top of his trailer on cool, quiet nights with a sky full of stars. wayne, who’s still down in virginia in a cabin that eddie put the money down for with his chef money. uncle wayne, who taught him to gut a fish and skin a deer and whose peach cobbler recipe he’s still trying to get just right. wayne, who he still calls every sunday as he fixes both of you a full dinner spread with greens and sweet potato and baked chicken.

to eddie, cooking is home, and family, roots and heart — it’s more than a love language. it’s a soul language, and he speaks it fluently, teaches it to everyone he lets get close to him.

and it only take a couple of weeks before he’s speaking it to you day and night, until you barely have to lift a finger in the kitchen because he’s got you, because he’s always got you. he’s got you for breakfast, with thick cuts of salmon and fat, fluffy vegan pancakes. with fresh squeezed juice and sausages that he picks up from the polish supermarket in brown paper bags every sunday, because he’s got a plug for that, and a plug for the freshest fruit in-season, for big juicy strawberries and peach preserves and purple kale.

he feeds you, everyday — with leftovers from the restaurant shifts he works until 3 in the morning — he brings you the day’s specials, whatever they are, spoils you with mushroom risotto and grilled eggplant and bucatini made in-house with the most flavorful tomato sauce you’ve ever tasted. if the special is seafood, he brings it home in a freezer bag, with sliced lemon on the side — he serves you your first oyster, your first bite of squid ink pasta, your first full lobster.

he’ll knock on your door at some ungodly hour, and when you invite him in he’s got a plate loaded up for you, bags under his eyes and a tired smile. he’ll watch you take that first bite, make that first satisfied noise, because he knows you’ve been at the drafting table for hours making adjustments to a new garment in time for an editorial shoot over the weekend.

no matter how tired he is, he’ll sit on your bed, looking so out of place amongst your plushies that it makes you bite down a giggle at the sight of him, looking sharp and dangerous surrounded by soft things. no matter how tired he is, he’ll ask you about your day and listen intently, wrinkle between his eyes as he does — and even though you’re shy at first, talking to him about fashion, he’s encouraging, asking you questions until you loosen up a little and you’re talking his ear off about sustainable dyeing practices and bias cuts and the art of the gather. and you know he’s too tired to take it all in but he’ll fight it, yawning in-between questions like you can use onions skins as dye, that’s crazy, what else have you tried and you did that all by hand? so fucking cool — yeah, i mean I can do patches but it’s nothing like that, used to just use dental floss and it wasn’t super clean, nothing like what you do, that’s way more punk, you made a fucking jacket from scratch.

and he makes you shy when he gets like that, when he gives you all his attention, when he keeps track of every bite like you’re suddenly going to hate his cooking, like he’s ready at any moment to fix it for you, to go right back into the kitchen and make you something from scratch, like he wasn’t just groaning about the longest fucking shift of my life, darlin’, you wouldn’t believe — had to hide in the lockup at midnight cuz we just got back to back fucked, substitution after substitution, and i like getting creative, don’t get me wrong, but what the fuck do we have a menu for?

he lights up a little when he talks about the kitchen though, about gareth who does dishes and robin and steve who run the front of house like it’s the navy.

he’ll grin when you scrunch your nose up because he’s smoked through another pack in one shift, flash his teeth and say beats the alternatives, glad you didn’t meet me all strung out and 21, would’ve been vibrating around your room, rearranged the kitchen, lit a real fire in the fireplace.

even on his worst nights, after an actual hell-shift, when his texts get short and a little snappy, when he stops assaulting your chat with emojis, when he spells out every single word and doesn’t reply for hours and all you get after that is a “don’t wait up x”. even when you hear him come in, dragging himself through the apartment like his body is dead weight, even on the worst nights — you’ll wake up in the morning to a spanish omelette on the counter and a sticky note that says “getting some air, sorry about last night x”, as if he has anything to apologize for, as if he’s not allowed to be human.

it’s all so domestic — he makes your home a warm cloud to lay in. he makes you feel so at ease, like he’s got you, like he’s a safe place to land.

which is where the problem comes in — because your roommate eddie, your sweet, doting, sensitive eddie, who cries when he says “love you, g’bye” to his uncle wayne without fail every single time they talk, who has taken in one of the neighbors cats (cerberus, sweet and soft and definitely using him for his top-shelf tuna connections) as if it is his own, and calls his guitar sweetheart and shimmies his way around the kitchen on sundays humming let’s hear it for the boys.

that eddie — sweet, darling doting eddie — is a fucking deviant.

he doesn’t show it too often, keeps it tucked away with impressive self-control, maybe even tries to hide it from you until he’s sure you’re settled, until you start to wonder if you just imagined that glint in his eyes the first day you met him — until the mask slips, until you catch a glimpse of his shadow once more and you think to yourself “there he is”.

it happens because of a bottle of tequila — because it always does. you go out drinking with him and his work friends, because you lost all of yours in the breakup, and eddie says he’s already told everyone all about you, that they already love you, c’mon sweetheart, it’s my night off and i wanna celebrate, know you got that shoot coming up, barely been drinking water you’re working so much, don’t think i haven’t noticed. come dance with me, just one night, i promise i’ll get you back in one piece.

and when he puts you on the spot like that, makes you feel exposed like that, looks at you with his bambi eyes all wide like that, you can’t really say no.

so you get all dressed up (change your outfit three times, because it’s been a long time since you’ve been out and you wanna make a good impression, damn it), and you might be freaking out a little. but then eddie yells out “c’mon honey, bet you look perfect, lemme see you”, and you swallow that anxiety because you like the way his voice curls around the words like that, that honey-twang he’s got cuz you’ve both been pre-gaming a little (him with a homemade margarita, you with a glass of red wine). it makes you brave, makes you take a deep breath and step out into the living room. and you both see each other all dressed up for the first time and — something shifts.

something tilts on its god damn axis — it’s the start of the end.

his hair is wild. big and dark and wild and sparkling through like he’s sprayed glitter in it. he’s got the most delicious black leather jacket on, fit perfect to his body and aged just right. he’s got this sheer fucking fabric stretched across his torso — it’s barely a shirt, just a scrap of something dark that lets you see the cut of his hips and the ink in his skin and the silver rings in his nipples.

his pants are low cut, ripped jagged across both knees, like he busted them open skating — and his boots are obscene, steel-toed shit-kickers, red-laces cutting through them like veins. he looks so good you want to stomp your feet and whine “not fair, who gave you eyeliner, that’s cheating”.

he looks like a young god, like hell on legs, like a flashing neon sign that says “i am going to fuck your life up and you’re going to thank me for it”. you suddenly can’t read.

the way he’s looking at you makes your mouth dry up, makes your thighs press together, makes you want to fall to your knees and worship. it’s all that desire you forgot that he possessed, that you only catch flashes of in the quiet moments — when he’s giving you a taste of something new and his eyes travel down to your lips wrapping round the edge of the spoon, when you hum low and pleased with your eyes closed and you open them up and he’s giving you that look again, that “run, rabbit, run” look.

for the first time in weeks he’s not hiding any of it from you — runs his gaze over your face and down your neck, across your shoulder and down your stomach, to your hips and both your thighs (he takes his time right there, sees you twitch, darts up to meet your eyes real quick, almost-smiles, like he’s saying “got you”)

and then up, up, up again. he takes his time. he runs his tongue across his lips, comes up real close and tugs on one of your braids with a scrunch between his brows, looks down at you and blows out a quiet rush of air and says “we should go, right now” like he means “before i do something i regret”.

that night, something inside you snaps.

his friends all clearly know something you don’t, and they are varying degrees of subtle about it. chrissy hugs you and smiles big and bright and says aren’t you the prettiest god damn thing i’ve ever seen but she’s looking at eddie when she says it, and it makes your face heat up.

robin and steve are all wry and knowing, bitchy in a fun way, exchanging little smiles with each other, all he’s finally let you out the dungeon, huh? thought he was gonna keep you all to himself.

jon is quiet but he gives eddie this little nod like “i see you” and his boyfriend argyle is already two-thirds into a bottle of casamigos so he just says the quiet part out loud, somehow makes it sound so chill, like it’s not a big deal that he takes one look at you and goes holy shit, eddie wasn’t lying, you’re like — what the fuck, i’d write songs about you too. doesn’t even give you a second to unpack all that before there’s a shot in your hand.

and then the drinks keep flowing and you start to loosen up and enjoy yourself and eddie doesn’t seem phased by any of the teasing, sits close to you and takes sips out of his drink (fruity, staining his tongue red as punch, sickly sweet when he lets you have a taste of it), keeps his eyes on you all night, just takes it all in stride — like he was expecting this, like he’s made his peace.

and you’re too drunk now to let it go, so you turn to him while steve and rob are busy bullying everyone else and you slur out something like so you’re obsessed with me, huh? and he smiles sharp and dirty and goes you don’t wanna go there with me honey, and you say why not, you’re all talk, don’t pussy out on me and his eyes go pitch black.

he nods his head, hums to himself. “noted.”

and it just goes down, down, down from there. because now you’re worked up, feeling bratty, feeling mean. you nod too, and he’s just taking you in, sitting too close, watching you like he’s curious, like he’s just delighted at the thought of what you’re gonna do next. bet, you think. let’s go, then.

steve seems like your best bet, so you ask him if he wants to dance, sugary sweet and wide-eyed, and he grins like he’s been waiting for this all night, says later losers, time to have some actual fun and takes your hand, cutting eddie a look like the cat that got the cream as you climb over his lap on your way out.

eddie’s just looking, looking, looking. quiet storm brewing across his face. leans in close before you’re gone to whisper “careful, baby” in your ear, like a warning.

you just smile at him, shrug. come get me, big bad.

dancing with steve is easy, his arm across your back, your hips pressed close. he says “your boy’s watching, wanna give him something to look at?” and you pout, tell him “he’s not gonna do shit, stevie, he’s all talk”.

steve smiles at you like you’re so dumb, just delightfully stupid, so you ask him what he knows and he says “i know he’s real sweet on you, but you better watch it, honey — eddie’s not the one to play with.”

and then he leans into your ear and tells you a story about a wolf who walks like a man and talks like a man and acts like a sheep — but he’s a wolf, honey. he likes to bite, likes to play with his food — keeps his prey tied down in his lair and takes them apart, piece by piece, until they’re crying, begging, until the fight leaves them all at once and they go empty between the ears, until they’re just gone. and then he just keeps taking, taking, taking. until they’ve got nothing left to give him.

and the music is so syrupy sweet that you’re lost in it, lost in the roll of your hips, lost in steve’s voice rumbling in your ears, low and hypnotic, lost in the drinks flowing through your veins — until steve has to hold you by the chin and force you to look up at him and say “still with me, little lamb?”

your throat is dry when you ask him how he knows what he knows, and he just looks over your shoulder (you know who he’s looking at, you feel those eyes across your back, he’s always watching, he just never stops looking) and tilts his chin up and goes why don’t you ask him yourself, honey?

and then eddie’s right there, pressed up against your back — leaning down to your ear to ask if you’re having fun, and for a second you’re pressed up between them both, letting steve rock you back into eddie, letting eddie grip you by the hips and pull you back, back, back, guiding you into a slow, filthy grind. your eyes fall close, you barely notice steve pressing a kiss to your temple, trilling have funnnn before he’s gone into the crowd again.

you still with me, eddie asks, at the same time you spin round and ask him “you fucked steve?”

he laughs a little and hums i see y’all been getting acquainted, pulls you close again and says jealous, honey?

you say you wish, and then you did, didn’t you? said you act like a sheep, but you’re not, are you? you’re a wolf.

he looks down at you, runs his hands under the straps of your top, presses his palms to the skin of your back, dips his head down. you know, i wanted to do this right — wanted to woo you and shit. feed you, keep you warm, treat you sweet.

and you know, you know, you know. what are you gonna do with me now, eddie?

he just looks at you. looks and looks, pulls you closer, let’s his hand creep down, down, down, makes the heat in your body swoop down low in your tummy when he grips you hard over your skirt, sweeps one hand in your hair and gets his fingers tangled in your braids, all the way down to the root and tugs, real mean with it.

he makes you bare your neck to him, makes you gasp, makes you wanna beg. for his teeth in your neck, for his hands between your thighs, for his mouth on you. you gonna hurt me, eddie?

he shrugs. i don’t know yet, honey. you gonna ask me nice for it? gonna ask for what you want instead of being a rude little brat, making me think you wanna fuck my friends?

your mouth goes dry. i wasn’t tryna —

nah, you just wanted me to think it, didn’t you? his voice drops low, mean, dark. dumb bunny, you didn’t actually think that was gonna work, did you? steve likes em big and bad, and you’re fucking nothing like that, are you? pretty little doll, he’d eat you alive.

he’s all inside your head, barely leaving you any space for yourself, and the way he sneers dumb bunny makes you squirm, makes you ache. he’s got you pinned in place like a fly in amber, nowhere else to run. and you wouldn’t?

he tilts his head, hums, says it again, wanted to do this right, wanted to lay you out on my bed and make you feel good. he mouths a kiss across your neck, traces his tongue across the skin, just the tip, just a tease. asked me if i was obsessed with you. stupid fucking question, baby. knew you were mine, first second i saw you, walked into my house and made it all strawberry and honey, seeped into everything, kept me up at night with it — and now it’s all over our home, our fucking home.

he uses his teeth, opens his mouth wide like a beast, like he can’t just smell you, like he needs the taste of it too, needs to feel the flesh between his teeth. and you can see right though me, can’t you, baby? the others, they think they see it, think they know what i think when i look at you, but you know, don’t you? you’ve always known.

you know. you’ve known. he wants inside your skin, wants to worm his way deep and build a home there. wants to keep you fed, keep you full, make you happier than anyone could. wants to own your happiness and your hunger, greedy over it. fucked up over the thought of anyone taking care of you better than he could, knows in his soul that no one else could. it makes you scared, makes you warm, makes you feel insane. you should run, should find a new apartment and start over because you’re so raw, and vulnerable, and he could hurt you, he wants to hurt you —

you tilt your head back, you run your hands across his shoulders, over his back, up into his hair, and you grab a handful and pull. he makes a noise like a wounded dog. he pants for it, folds forward like he got the breath knocked out of him — you think he’s mine, he’s mine, he’s mine, feel him kick up against you, big and warm and hard against your hip and your head swims with the thought. over and over, the same thought — mine, mine, mine.

yeah, sweet thing, m’yours, all yours, all of it, all yours, he whines, just for you. must’ve heard you, must’ve said it out loud. he sounds hollowed out, like you’ve let all his air out, and you’re wild for it.

tell me how, you say. you tug his head down so you can speak into his ear, and he goes down easy, so easy. when i let you take me to bed, when i let you have it, what will you do to me? what first?

a knife, he says, like a man possessed. toys with all your straps, slips his fingers underneath and tugs. wanna cut you out of this pretty fabric. look like an angel, wanna rip it to shreds, lay you down in the ribbons.

to ruin me, you say.

to make your heart race, he sings. he sways into you, sounds so consumed with desire it makes him drunk, makes him slur his words like his teeth are too big for his mouth. make you scared, make you wanna run so i can catch you. hold you down, press the blade up against your skin and play.

he wants to play. with a knife to your neck. fucking freak.

yours, yours, yours, he says. pulls back to look at you, hisses when you follow him with your hands in his hair, eyes rolling up and then back down, eyes half-shut, lights going out until it’s all a stretch of midnight without a star in the sky.

beautiful boy, you think. terrible, terrible, gorgeous boy.

wanna spit in your fucking mouth, he confesses. wanna hold my hand over your nose and watch your throat work as you swallow. wanna make you wet all over.

you’re already wet all over, and he knows that. can probably smell it, the wolf.

you’re still dancing, somehow. still swaying, still pressed up against each other, no room for common sense. his friends are nowhere to be seen — the crowd of bodies around you have all blurred away. you want to be home, in his bed, his lair, at his mercy. you tell him as much, and he smiles at you like he’s proud. love it when you tell me the truth, he says. love it when you show me.

better make it worth it, eddie, you say. better make it hard to leave your bed in the morning.

and then, he sings. and then, and then, and then.

greedy boy, you think, never gonna let me go, never gonna let anyone else touch me ever again.

you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, red and sweet and sharp. and then, you say, then you’re gonna feed me, like you always do.

#eddie x black!reader #dom eddie munson #eddie x y/n #eddie munson #eddie x reader #dark!eddie munson #dom!eddie munson #mean dom eddie munson #black!oc #black!y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut