#and I don’t want people that come in my room to be like

[harrysonlylover]

Ride Along*

Summary: Y/n is feeling bored alone at her apartment, so Harry takes her for a ride.

A continuation to Discipline.

Trope: Agent Harry

WC: 6.3k

Warnings: mentions of speeding, a pinch of meanrry, smut, degradation, choking, face spitting, unprotected sex, implications of somnophilia, after care.

A/n: The writing is a bit rusty because it’s been a while since I wrote smut😬

Main Masterlist | Agent Harry Masterlist

Y/n was placed on house arrest by Harry for a week, and it was torturous.

Perhaps “house arrest” is a bit dramatic but she felt suffocated. She could leave her apartment whenever she wanted. Harry’s insistence on her relaxation was clear, and he only meant for her to avoid any activities that require physical exertion.

Anyone would be thrilled to have a week off from work, but it was rather confusing for Y/n. Although she hadn’t been an agent for long, she adapted quickly to the agent lifestyle which was hard to suddenly pause.

Even with Harry’s confirmation and reassurance that he wasn’t disappointed, she still felt the need to occupy her time with something useful.

There was absolutely nothing in her apartment that could pass away time. At least nothing that interested her. 

She cleaned up a bit, reorganized the living room, and stuck to the meals that Harry sent for her daily. They weren’t bad actually, except for the spinach soup that made her want to puke.

With no one accompanying her but Tim Tim and her thoughts, she realized how nice and caring it is to send someone customized meals. If someone heard her say it out loud, they’d snort in her face but—they just don’t know Harry and his personality.

He texted her every day at least twice. At first, she thought he only did so to make sure she ate the meals and took her supplement (which would be considered too kind coming from him), but slowly he began diverting from those topics asking her about her day and chatting with her.

He gave her updates on the agency and promised to pass by her apartment only to bail on her because of an emergency that required his presence.

On day 4 she was fully annoyed. She couldn’t handle being away from the agency for long, and even if she could go out and enjoy her time away—she didn’t know where to go.

She didn’t lead a normal life, no agent did and she was completely okay with it. She had no one to check up on or call to hang out with. The idea of going out somewhere alone felt weird. She would feel like an imposter amongst a sea of normal people.

She buried the eerie feelings and decided to spam Harry with texts to annoy him a bit. 

Y/n: I’m gonna pass by the agency :)

She pressed the send button and waited for his reply as she heated her lunch for the day.

His reply was almost automatic as if he didn’t have a load of responsibilities.

Harry: No.

Y/n: Yes.

Harry: I said no Y/n.

She huffed in frustration before remembering that if she could be a menace at the agency, then she could be a menace over text too.

Y/n: Too bad I’m already on my way.

Harry: Don’t test me.

Y/n: 😜

Harry: Are you disobeying me?

She choked on a piece of meat when she read his reply, and immediately reached for a cup of water. She wiped her mouth, staring at his text in confusion. It wasn’t strictly sexual, but it was a phrase that he always used during sex, because one thing that he combined between his professional and sex life was discipline, and Y/n adored it.

She loved his attitude, how he dared her to go against his orders or defy him. It wasn’t that she liked getting punished or sought pain—it was more of a need to observe him being dominant. The way he manhandled her and treated her like nothing but a toy, only for him to hold her to his chest right after.

Another text from Harry pulled her out of her fantasies and daydreams.

Harry: You’re well aware of how I feel about you disobeying me, right?

Y/n: Yes. I do.

Her response was automatic as if it was generated and not typed quickly by her. She wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.

Harry: Good Girl.

Motherfucker. He knew what he was doing. After all, he had her memorized by heart, and he probably was aware of how close she was to drooling. The meal in front of her didn’t appeal to her anymore because she had a different type of meal on her mind.

It had been a while since they hooked up and it was a rushed quickie behind closed doors at the agency. He kneeled on the ground to eat her out in no longer than five minutes before having to return to the training. He knew her body like the palm of his hand and had her panting and biting on her bottom lip in no time.

She adored it, really, but she craved the feeling of his cock driving into her as she held onto his body or while his hand wrapped itself around her neck with his mouth spewing the dirtiest sentences into her ear.

She sighed deeply reminiscing her adventurous sex life before he banished her to her apartment so she could rest. Was it a bit dramatic? Maybe. But she might be addicted to sex with him.

She glanced at his text knowing that he was probably smirking at his replies. He always knows how to get to her. She grabbed her phone and typed her reply because she was so fucking bored at the apartment and needed some fresh air.

Y/n: I’m still bored.

This time his reply wasn’t as quick as the previous one. It took him about five minutes to respond which was still fast considering how busy he was.

Harry: Okay. Go out.

Y/n: Wow! I didn’t think of that.

She scoffed at his dumb reply because who said that she was waiting for his approval?

Harry: Why didn’t you go out?

Y/n: I’m not sure…it feels weird…?

She could see the little dots that indicate that he was typing appearing only to disappear a few seconds later.

Harry: I’ll pick you up at 9. Dress comfortably.

When she complained about her boredom she thought that he would recommend her places to visit or give suggestions, not take her out. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head when she read his text. She wasn’t hallucinating, right?

Y/n: Where are we going?

Harry: Eat your lunch and take your supplement.

Y/n: Damn grumpy pants.

He didn’t reply to her after that but if he did she’s sure he would have sent a thumbs-up emoji even if it was out of context. She continued her meal just like he instructed her. The hold he had on her was unreal, and she was okay with it.

Harry was knocking on her door at exactly 9 PM. Not a minute later.

This time she didn’t welcome him in with a tear-stained face, and grumpy attitude. It was the entire opposite of it. The only thing that was similar to the previous time was her shock. Harry was dressed in all black and a leather jacket. His hair looked so fucking soft, and a hair strand fell on his forehead as he leaned against the door with his hands in his pockets. He was a sight for sore eyes, especially Y/n’s whose jaw almost dropped.

“Hello, little minx.” He grinned devilishly as he entered her apartment. His cologne had her knees buckling, reminding her of when she’d bury her face in his neck.

Black shirt, black pants, black boots, and a black leather shirt. He’s going to be the death of her, surely. He strolled in like he owned the place while she shamelessly stared at his body.

“Little minx…” He tutted, cornering her against the kitchen counter. “… sent me message after message today as if I don’t have a workload.” His tone made her feel like she was in trouble, but the good kind of trouble.

“But you still answered, no?” She replied confidently with a smirk to remind him of the hold that she also had on him, even if they never spoke about it directly.

He remained silent, offering her his cheesy smirk as his eyes raked over her face and neck like he was trying to come up with sinful scenarios. She was more addictive than any type of drug.

“Ready to hit the road?” He deviated from the topic skilfully while checking out her attire to make sure that she’d be comfortable during the ride.

“Hmm. Let’s go.” She walked in front of him like a princess, going down the stairs excitedly.

She stepped out to the street and looked around with a hint of a smile painted across her face. She could hear Harry’s boots behind her and smell his cologne that seemed to have stuck to her clothes.

“So…are we going to walk there?” She asked with confusion evident on her face.

“We’re riding there.” His response held a sense of pride as he grabbed her hand and walked down to the end of the street before taking a left and stopping.

A large black sports bike was parked in its glory itching for someone to take it for a ride. Y/n stood still in her place with her mouth wide open in shock. Harry was a motorcycle guy?

“Oh…wow.”

“Scared little minx?” He mused like it was so fun to see her reaction. He approached her from behind, bumping his body with hers and trapping her physically. She could feel him breathing against her neck as she swallowed down his throat. One touch from him and she’s paralysed.

He pressed a soft peck behind her ear before whispering. “Don’t worry… you’ll hold on to me.” She barely processed what he said as he immediately urged her forward and gave her a helmet to put on. She wore it as soon as he gave it to her to cover her facial expression from him. He helped her tie it up before placing his helmet on.

“C'mon hop on behind me.” He situated himself on the bike, and the more Y/n stared, the more the wetness between her thighs increased. Seeing him in all black was something but with a biker helmet on? She wanted to drop on her knees right there and then, but she didn’t.

Instead, she hopped on behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso. Her grip was weak making him urge her to get closer and glue herself to him. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, it just made her ridiculously horny.

The feeling of hugging his muscular body with her core touching his lower back had her feeling some sort of way. She could feel his abs under her touch, and his cologne drifting in the air was not helping.

“I can’t even see anything because of your back!” While she joked about it, deep down she found it fucking hot. His broad back and shoulders blocked her view, and the only thing she could do was rest her head against it.

“I don’t hear you complaining when you’re scratching on it.” Even with his helmet on, she could feel him smirking.

She gave in to the feeling of his warm body against her as if he were shielding her from everything. It was not an ideal timing for her size kink to get activated, but she genuinely couldn’t help it.

“Hold on tight little minx.” The engine roared to life and Harry fixed his position before taking a turn and heading straight for the highway.

This was her first time on a motorcycle surprisingly. At first, her body was tense, and it didn’t feel nice. Despite having a helmet on, it felt like the wind was slapping her. Harry turned out to be a skilled biker who speeds for fun—still he was careful.

She eventually regulated her breathing and unclenched her jaw as she adapted to the adrenaline rush that she felt. It was an otherworldly feeling. She couldn’t tell what made her feel this way. Harry’s body against her, the evening breeze, or the rush of speeding.

No matter what it was, she felt amazing.

Harry wanted to taunt her in some way, preferably verbally—but she seemed like she was having fun, and her arms around him were a distraction. The feeling of her body clinging to him was priceless.

He tried to avoid speeding on the highway for her sake despite loving to do so. It was one of the things he resorted to when he needed a break from everything. Nothing could compare to the adrenaline rush he felt…maybe just Y/n’s lips.

He slowed down and took an exit on the highway that led them to a deserted road and ultimately a hill. He stopped and turned off the ignition before stepping off the bike.

“Fucking hell. Do you want to kidnap me?” Y/n joked as she looked around the dark and deserted space.

“If I want to kidnap you, little minx, I’ll simply carry you.” He chuckled as he took off his helmet and fixed his messy hair. She swallowed down her throat as she stared at him. Why did he have to look this good?

“C'mon.” He gestured for her to follow him, and she jogged to catch up. He placed his hand on her lower back to urge her forward. His body was dangerously close to her, and she could smell his cologne again. Harry’s hand itched to hold hers, but he wasn’t sure if she’d like that, so her lower back should suffice.

They took a small turn to the left as rocks crunched under their shoes. Harry wondered whether he should tell her to close her eyes or not. But if he does, then it’d sound romantic which crosses the boundaries of their physical relationship.

“It’s right…here.” They were met with a gorgeous view of the city. They could see almost all the lit buildings as if they were in the sky. It felt as if they were spying on the city with its lights and secrets. No one but them on the deserted hill.

“Wow..this is so beautiful”. Y/n gasped in shock at the view in front of her. She never expected Harry to take her to this spot-she didn’t even know it existed.

“I know.” If she wasn’t too occupied with the scenery, she would’ve noticed that Harry was in fact, staring at her with a smile on his face.

“How do you know this spot?” Y/n still couldn’t take her eyes off the shimmering buildings.

“I discovered it once by mistake, and I come here often.” He didn’t mention how this place was his escape from the world, or that he came here before heading to her apartment that day.

“It’s so nice.” Despite the darkness filling the space, Harry could still see and feel her smile.

He quickly got the bike so they could sit on it, and left it turned on for the light.

“Oh, it’s so big I could sleep on it.” Y/n remarked.

Perhaps he was feeling extra chill or it was just from being around her but a weird sound came out of his mouth as he tried to suppress a laugh. Y/n usually gets sleepy after sex, and his dick isn’t the average size. So did he think of her sentence sexually and almost burst out laughing? Yes.

“Did you just try to laugh at me?” She asked in an annoyed tone.

“Me? Never.” He covered up his chuckle with coughing.

“Whatever…” She mumbled a few other words under her breath as she attempted to climb the bike, but it was gigantic. She can’t even recall how she climbed it previously and she’s not even short!

She gasped suddenly as Harry’s hands lifted her body like she weighed nothing and placed her on the seat before she could blink. She was glad that he couldn’t see her face clearly because she could feel her cheeks burning. Was she that touch deprived?

“I was handling it just fine.” She huffed in confidence.

“Mhmm.”

The bike was indeed huge, but Harry took most of the space making their bodies glued on the seat.

The tension between them could be cut with a knife. Y/n would usually be the first to break the silence, but she just couldn’t. She felt paralyzed next to him, and he didn’t even touch her yet. His presence and cologne were enough to weaken her.

“Are you still mad at me?” He cleared his throat.

“What?” She couldn’t mask the shock in her tone as her face turned around to meet his.

“About last week.” It sounded as if something was holding him back, almost like he was afraid of asking.

She took a few seconds to process his question, mostly because she was shocked at the gesture. She knew deep down that it meant a lot. No one would believe her if she said that Agent Harry Styles was checking up on her and apologized. They’d probably laugh in her face.

She couldn’t decode what it meant. Was he just feeling guilty, or did he share the same feelings? The need for more than just physical boundaries haunted her but she wouldn’t dare to bring it up. Even if he was feeling guilty, it still had to be something. He’s literally merciless to other agents.

“I—I—“

“You don’t have to give me an answer.” He reassured her in a low whisper.

“No, I do—I’m just confused.”

“About?” Harry was itching to know her answer. He even rehearsed his question for the past week.

“Well… why did my lack of performance anger you in the first place?” She had a lot to ponder about in her free time. Questions that popped into her head about Harry.

He took a deep breath and clasped his hands together before exhaling. “I didn’t want you to get hurt on the field. Most of the time when agents slack, they end up getting injured in the field…”

“Wanted you to be strong for when I’m not there.” He whispered as if the city was able to hear him confessing his secrets.

“Oh.” Y/n’s head was swirling with thoughts and questions-none that came out of her mouth. She could even feel Harry’s stress radiating off him. She simply allowed her Pinky finger to touch his as they continued staring at the city.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later that she broke the silence.

“I’m not mad anymore. I was just surprised. Just—don’t do it again.”

“Never.”

They stayed in the same position with their fingers touching for almost two hours, as they chatted about important and mundane things. His heart fluttered when she laughed her ass off after he told her how an agent peed his pants because he was caught smoking.

He even told her about his mother briefly. That’s how whipped he was. She shared a few details about growing up as an orphan, but they both decided to close the topic knowing how heavy was.

“Your cologne is suffocating me.” Her remark was innocent, it really was—but his mind wasn’t.

“Thought you liked it when you buried your face in my neck?” Cheeky Harry was back in full force. He inched his face closer to her and he could hear her swallow down her throat.

“Harry…”

“Tell me…did you think about me knocking on your door and fucking you against the wall?” Lust dripped from his voice and Y/n’s chest was rising. Goosebumps spread all over her skin as their noses bumped.

“I—yes.”

“Good. Cause I stopped myself from doing that every single day.” He was needy for her, and only her.

“What are you waiting for then?”

In a few seconds, he had her straddling his lap with his hand supporting her lower back as his lips devoured hers. Their kiss was sloppy, wet, and lustful. Harry counted the minutes that led to this moment so he could taste the sweetest fruit.

He was fucking obsessed with everything about her. Her lips, eyes, body, mind, and pussy.

“Fuck!” He moaned into her mouth when she grinded over his clothed cock. He might as well cum right there in his pants if she kept doing that.

“Behave. “He slapped her ass causing her to whine sweetly. His large hand rested on her cheeks trying to knead them over her leggings.

Their breaths were labored as their tongues clashed like lovers who hadn’t had sex in ages. His mouth was fucking devouring her and she could already feel her lips getting sore. He kept urging her body closer as if he could morph them into one body.

“Ne—need you.” Her whimpers made the blood rush to his cock.

“Yeah? Where do you need me, my baby?”

She ignored his question and continued kissing all over his face, brushing over his stubble and chin. She was hungry and he adored it. But she also didn’t answer him.

He pulled her away by wrapping his hand around her throat. She gasped, secretly loving the feeling of his veiny hands choking her.

“I asked you a question, little minx. Where do you need me?” His voice was so deep and lustful that she wanted to get down on her knees and suck him.

“Uh—In my pussy.” She breathed out, feeling the wetness increase between her thighs just from his hand around her neck. “Here, baby?” He cupped his other hand over her pussy making her feel tingly.

“Y—yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir.”

“Attagirl.” He felt her wetness on his hand and if it wasn’t so dark he’d bend her over the bike and fuck her into the next day. Besides, his little minx gets sleepy.

“C’mon, I need to get us to your apartment.” He spanked her cheeks again, earning a squeal from her. He pulled her off his lap and winced at his painful hard on before fixing his pants as much as he could and seating himself on the bike. His hand reached out for her and pulled her onto his lap again.

“Whoa! What are you doing? I should be behind you.”

“No. Since my cologne makes you horny, you’re gonna have your face buried into my neck the whole ride.” His smirk was sick but fuck her if she didn’t like it.

Her nose bumped over his neck and she fought a moan. This had to be the best punishment.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you with my body.” His arm tightened around her waist as he took the route they came from.

It was going to be a torturous ride.

Y/n could barely open the door properly with Harry kissing on the back of her neck. His hard on was pressing into her ass as she tried to insert the key. Her soft whines only made him hornier and needier.

As soon as they were inside, the keys dropped to the ground followed by the loud shut of the door. Harry grabbed Y/n by the throat pushing her to the wall where he kissed her deeply. The kiss was rushed and erotic, he could never get enough of her lips or sweet whimpers every time he pushed his tongue inside her mouth.

“My minx…” The warmth between her thighs was torturous. His deep voice rumbled from his chest sending vibrations straight to her pussy.

“Uhh..” She tried to push her core against his crotch for any sort of friction.

He caught on immediately as he smirked against the kiss and tapped on her ass to lift her on his waist. He had her placed lower than usual so she could feel him against the fabric.

“Is that what you wanted sweet girl? To feel how hard I am for you?” He panted, cradling her jaw with his hand as he deepened the kiss.

“Y—yes." She didn’t want to respond or part from his lips for a millisecond. She could feel her pussy pulsating just from the feeling of his cock pressing into her core.

She pulled away reluctantly, glancing at his neck like it was her next meal. He may have been teasing her, but he was right. She loved burying her face in his neck and sucking on it. She prided herself in knowing that the hickeys she’d give him would be on show for all girls at the agency.

His scent always played with her pheromones and messed with her brain. His cologne had a hold on her, and she knew that she looked like a puppy in heat when she clung to him. “Dirty girl…” His hand rested on her hair as his head rolled backward giving her access to his skin. He was a sight for sore eyes with his face scrunched in ecstasy and lips slightly parted. She didn’t have to speak for him to understand her possessiveness and boy did he like it.

His little minx was obsessed with him just like he was.

“Bedroom please.” She laid her forehead against his having had her fill from giving him love bites. Their noses bumped as they looked into each other’s eyes that shared the same desire.

She didn’t need to tell him twice. He supported her body with one hand around her waist as she directed him to the room. He didn’t waste any time and kept his mouth busy with her neck.

He placed her down on the bed gently before taking off his clothes quickly while she stared at his toned body and tattoos, holding in her drool.

“You could stare at me all night darling, but now I need you to be a good girl and take off your clothes so I could relieve that needy cunt of yours.” Harry barely finished his sentence, and her clothes were off in a few seconds.

The light in the room was dim, supported by a small bedside lamp. If she thought that staring at his body was a delight, then she should read his mind as he stared down at hers.

She looked so fucking pretty for him. Only him.

It was like an erotic scene out of a movie or a wet dream. Y/n on her back with her legs spread showcasing her glistening pussy and hardened nipples, and Harry standing tall in front of her with his cock erect to his stomach begging to sink itself inside her warm walls.

The sight of him standing like that nude and horny will never leave her mind. Almost as if he were a Greek god.

She squealed as he pulled her by her legs to the edge of the bed. Harry suddenly lowered his body till his face was at the same level as her pussy. His teasing game was strong, she was crumbling underneath him.

“My favorite scent.” He buried his face in her cunt and inhaled. A tiny whine left her mouth as his nose bumped into her swollen clit. Y/n felt like she could cry if he didn’t fuck her, and he was taking his sweet time in savoring the scent of her wetness.

“H—Harry.”

“Mhm?” He turned his attention to her, hovering over her body and taking delight in her needy face.

“Please—it hurts.” If he waited any longer, Harry was sure that a tear would’ve fallen from her eye.

“Oh poor baby…” He cooed as he caressed her cheek gently. “…you just need me inside, don’t you?” She was quick to nod while slightly squirming beneath him.

He pulled her closer, situating her core right under his cock, and stroked it giving her a show of his moans before tapping it against her wet cunt.

“Is that where you need it? Just have to slide in.” His sick grin with the feeling of his cock sliding over her cunt back and forth made her eyes roll back.

“Please.” She dug her nails into his back followed by a set of pleas.

“Shhh.” He whispered softly, pressing a peck to her cheek before pulling away from her and fixing their position.

He placed her legs on his shoulder and gave her his twisted smirk as he stroked his shaft and bit his bottom lip. “Gonna be my good girl as usual? Hmm?”. He lowered his body again, allowing his cock to rest on her stomach.

“Uh—huh.” She nodded mindlessly immediately. She was already cockdrunk and he wasn’t inside her yet.

“Ready baby?” His hand rubbed her legs softly as she gave him the cue. He glanced quickly at his cock resting on her skin and he almost got dizzy from the size difference. It got to him every damn time.

His eyes were focused on her facial expression as he slowly pushed himself inside of her. A wave of relief washed over her face with a sweet moan making him still his hips to avoid cumming.

There was nothing like sinking inside her warm walls that begged him to go deeper. Wet squelching sounds filled the room the more he pushed inside her—his baby was made for him.

“That’s it little minx—so fucking warm for daddy.”

Y/n’s brain felt mushy. Harry was so fucking good to her, and his cock scratched the itch just right. He never referred to himself as daddy before, only sir but she liked it so bad.

She pulled at his arms with soft whimpers signalling for him to get closer to her—which he did without hesitation. She clung to him, digging her nails into his back and tugging at his hair. His cock drove deep into her cunt, massaging her hot walls with its veins and thickness.

“Use me d—daddy”. Y/n shed tears from pleasure that stained his face since he was glued to her, pressing pecks to her cheeks and nose.

“Yeah? Want daddy to use you like a fuckdoll?” He increased his pace, going deeper and moaning into her ear at the feeling of her bare cunt.

They both adored raw sex and went for it almost every time. Y/n was on birth control, and Harry tested regularly (despite only fucking her). He was pussy whipped.

“Uhh—be rough daddy.” He stilled his hips at her words, leaving them glued to hers. He lifted his body and took in her fucked sight. Messy hair, tear stains, and a needy face.

“Wanted to be gentle with you but I forgot that you’re a whore deep down.” He chuckled before spitting on her face, and watching her chest rise and fall as she breathed heavily.

His little minx was insatiable and provoked him further by trying to fuck herself on his cock as she bit her bottom lip. He could faintly hear her whimpering ‘Daddy’ under her breath.

He wanted to slap her knowing how much she liked it but something else distracted him. He looked down to where they were connected noticing the mix of her wetness with his precum. He pulled out slowly, moaning at the loss of contact and his cock that is painted in white.

Harry tried to breathe in and out to avoid cumming. Not only did she cream on his cock, but her cunt was pulsating as if she was asking for his cock to slide in again.

“Pathetic. Creamed all over me.” Her inner thighs were coated with wetness, and she didn’t close her legs—not even a bit. She knew that she should always keep them spread for him.

He flipped her on her stomach effortlessly and she immediately arched her back, presenting her ass to him. “What a good fuckdoll.” He slapped her cheeks and placed his tip at her entrance before sinking into her warmth again.

Her walls pulled him back in as if she were some sort of seductress that made him addicted to her. Harry balanced himself and focused on the fast thrusts instead of her extremely warm cunt.

“Fucking insatiable aren’t you?” He grunted with his eyes fixed on his cock entering her pussy and coming out all creamy as her ass jiggled.

Y/n’s muffled moans were all she could offer. With her face smushed in the pillow and brain turned off, she was in fucking heaven.

The arch of her back had him rolling his head backward as his hips rotated forward, going deeper and harder.

“That’s it slut. Take my fucking cock.” He gritted his teeth, grabbing a fistful of her hair, and pulling it backward before wrapping a hand around her neck and lifting her body to his chest. 

She was completely gone. She could only look at him with teary eyes that begged him to claim her.

Deeper, harder, faster.

“D—d…” 

“Good fuckdolls keep their mouth shut.” He tightened his grip on her jaw, tapping on her mouth to open it up before spitting inside.

“Swallow.” If the warmth of her cunt didn’t kill him, it was going to be her face. So needy, compliant, and dizzy from pleasure.

Their bodies were glued to each other, skin to skin with her back to his chest as he thrusted inside her while panting in her ear. 

He was supporting both of their bodies seeing as she could do nothing but whine. His arm was secured around her torso with her hand clinging to his bicep. The clenching of her walls around his cock was always the hardest for him. She’d rile him on trying to milk his cum, taking every drop.

“You wanna cum?” He panted against the back of her neck knowing how her body acts when she’s reaching her orgasm.

She gave him a weak nod, clinging harder to his bicep as she laid her head on his shoulder. They didn’t always cum together, but when they did, the euphoria was unmatched. Harry had been holding himself back ever since he sunk into her, just to feel her shake and pulsate around him as he spilled his cum into her.

“C’mon minx, give it to me.” His tongue left a broad lick on her neck with a harsh bite. It wasn’t her clit that got her off—her sensitive spot was her neck, whether Harry choked her or sucked on her skin—she was a goner.

“H—Harry” Her nails dug into his skin as she looked up at him with sweet eyes and shaky legs.

How could he resist laying his lips on hers as he stilled his hips to empty himself inside her?

She was shuddering—even with their skin glued together. Her sweet moans made his cock twitch inside her, already hungry for more. Her orgasm hit her hard, clouding her vision and thoughts. The feeling of his cum spiling inside her with her pussy clenching to take it inside was the only thing she felt and wanted to feel.

“Fuck. That’s it, take every drop my lo—minx.”  His eyes fluttered open at his word slip up.

His eyes furrowed in confusion and immediately glanced at her face which seemed to be too occupied with cumming. His chest heaved as he swiped his hand across her face, moving her sweaty hair strands away before kissing her temple.

“Talk to me, are you okay?” He angled her face towards him to examine her expression.

“Yes.” A hazy smile was planted across her face making him chuckle.

“Mhmm. I’m going to pull out now and carry you to the bathroom so you can pee.” He gave her a heads up while rubbing her cheeks.

Once she nodded at him, he began pulling out slowly, wincing at being separated from her warmth—something that she reciprocated. Harry tried to avoid looking down—he really did, but it was too tempting.

His creamy load dripped out of her pussy, sliding down her legs, and the more she clenched, the more came out.

“Fucking hell.” He muttered under his breath, swiping his finger across her pussy and gathering his cum before tasting it.

Y/n’s whine echoed in his ear. She sported an angry look on her face that disappeared once he signalled for her to open her mouth. He spat the residue of what he tasted inside of her mouth, enjoying the faint moans that spilled from her.

“C’mon let’s clean you up.” He carried her effortlessly to the bathroom before giving her privacy and heading back to the room to change the sheets.

Who knew that changing bed sheets would make him irritated? He let out a huff, finishing the last touch right as she came out of the bathroom.

She was dressed in nothing but a plain white shirt that barely reached her thighs.

“Hm I love my bed.” She smiled as she climbed the mattress, giving Harry a show.

“Y/n.” He spoke rigidly.

“Yeah?” She glanced up innocently at him as she relaxed under the duvet.

“I was supposed to clean you up…and where are your panties?” He questioned her as he joined her on the bed—nude.

“You can wake me up at night, make a mess then clean me.” She taunted him, switching to the side and giving him a view of the shirt riding up her ass.

He got under the covers, situating himself properly so that he was attached to her.

“Is that what you want little minx? Hmm?” His fingers caressed her skin slowly starting from her arm, down to her legs.

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll see.” He nibbled on before earlobe as she dosed off to sleep. She loved sleeping after sex and Harry knew that, but it was almost 1 in the morning and she needed rest.

Harry dared to let his hand dip in her hair, giving her head scratches as she slept peacefully. He didn’t realize what he was doing until she stirred in her sleep making him pull his hand away.

His eyes furrowed in confusion as he stared at her sleeping face. First the word slip up and now he’s playing with her hair.

What the fuck was going on with him?

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Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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[pucksandpower]

MILF

Toto Wolff x wife!Reader

Summary: Toto knows his wife is a MILF … but this doesn’t mean he is okay with his son’s friends calling you that

Warnings: teenage boys doing teenage boy things

Based on this request

“Pass the schnitzel, darling,” you say to your husband as the three of you sit down for dinner. Your teenage son has just gotten home from school, and you can’t wait to hear about his day.

Toto smiles at you as he passes the platter of breaded veal. “How was school?” He asks.

Lukas shrugs as he takes a bite. “It was okay,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

You give him a look. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, sweetie,” you gently chide. Even though he’s almost an adult now, you still see your little boy in him.

Lukas swallows and straightens up. “Sorry, Mum.”

“So tell us about your day,” you prompt. “Learn anything new and interesting?”

Your son fidgets in his seat. “Well … some of the guys were talking about you today.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Me? What about me?”

Lukas glances uncomfortably at his father. “Just … stuff they saw online. Paparazzi photos from when we were on the yacht last month.”

Toto sets his fork down, his expression darkening. He’s no stranger to being in the public eye, but he’s always been protective of you and Lukas. “What exactly were they saying?” He asks in a carefully neutral tone.

“They, uh …” Lukas rubs the back of his neck. “They called Mom a MILF.”

“A what?” Toto sputters, while you have to suppress a laugh. You’re familiar with the crude term, given your substantially younger age compared to your husband.

“It’s not funny!” Toto says indignantly. “I won’t have people objectifying my wife like that.”

You reach over and pat his arm. “It’s okay, dear. I’m not bothered by it.” You turn back to Lukas with an amused smile. “I’m flattered those boys think your old mom’s still got it.”

“You’re not old!” Lukas protests loyally. “It’s just, you know, you’re a lot younger than Vati, and you’re really pretty, so the guys notice.”

Toto scowls, but you grin and blow your son a kiss. “Thanks, sweetie.” Your playful reaction seems to visibly relax him.

“This is unacceptable,” Toto shakes his head. “I should call the school. Get those little punks suspended for sexual harassment.”

“Oh Toto, don’t be silly,” you wave dismissively. “They’re just teenage boys. I’m sure they didn’t mean any harm.”

“It doesn’t matter!” He insists. “Your dignity and privacy should be respected, not exploited. People think because we’re in the spotlight that they can say whatever vulgar nonsense they want.”

You reach over again and lace your fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I know it bothers you, darling. But I married you knowing full well how public our lives would be. A little crude gossip comes with the territory.”

Toto opens his mouth to retort, then pauses, some of the indignation leaving his eyes. “I just don’t want anyone disrespecting you,” he says finally.

You smile softly. Even after all these years of marriage, your heart still flutters at his protectiveness. “I know. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

Lukas makes a face. “Ugh, gross. Can you guys not be all mushy right now?”

You laugh and blow him another kiss. “Sorry Lukas. I can’t help it — your father’s the love of my life.”

Toto smiles back at you, the anger fading from his face. “And you’re mine, schatzi.”

Your son pretends to gag. “Seriously, stop. I’m trying to eat here.”

You chuckle and spear another bite of schnitzel. “Alright, we’ll behave. Now, tell me more about the rest of your day ...”

The conversation moves on to lighter topics as you finish up dinner. You listen attentively while Lukas fills you in on the drama with his friend group and his struggles in history class.

After clearing the dishes, the three of you move to the living room. You curl up next to Toto on the couch while Lukas sprawls out on the carpet to play video games.

You close your eyes contentedly and rest your head on your husband’s shoulder. Despite the lifestyle that being married to Toto provides you with, this right here is your happy place — your little family, spending a quiet evening at home.

Toto wraps an arm around you and presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Have I told you lately how lucky I am?” He murmurs.

You smile up at him. “Even after all these years, you still give me butterflies.”

“Good,” he says firmly. “I’ll tell you every day if I have to, until you’re sick of hearing it.”

Lukas groans loudly from the floor. “Could you guys be any more embarrassing?”

You and Toto both laugh. “What? I can’t tell my beautiful wife how much I love her?” He calls out in protest.

“Not when I’m right here!” Lukas complains. “Get a room or something.”

You grin mischievously. “That’s not a bad idea ...” you say, running a hand up your husband’s chest.

Toto’s eyes darken. “Minx,” he murmurs.

Lukas scrambles to his feet. “Okay, I’m out of here.” He gives you both a look of exaggerated disgust as he heads upstairs.

You and Toto chuckle as you listen to his bedroom door slam shut.

“Now, where were we?” Toto says in a low voice, pulling you closer. You bite your lip coyly as he presses his mouth to yours. No matter how many years go by, the chemistry between you is still electric.

You shift against him eagerly as the kiss deepens. His hands slide down to grip your hips, and you make a soft noise of pleasure. After nearly two decades of marriage, he knows exactly how to touch you.

“Tell me again,” you whisper when you finally break apart, slightly breathless.

Toto gazes into your eyes. “I love you,” he says sincerely. “I will always love you. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

You kiss him again, tenderly this time. “I love you too, Toto. Forever.”

No matter what people say or how famous you become, your relationship has always been grounded in this — the unwavering love between you. The rest of the world falls away when you’re together.

You rest your head contentedly on his shoulder again, his arms wrapped around you. This right here, next to the man who still looks at you like you hung the moon, is home.

***

The next day after school, Lukas comes home with a few of his friends in tow. You’re just finishing up putting away the groceries when you hear the chatter of teenage voices approaching.

“Hey Mum, we’re gonna hang out downstairs,” Lukas calls out as the group of boys raids the kitchen fridge for snacks.

You smile and give them a little wave. “Hi boys. There’s more drinks in the pantry if you need it.”

The teenagers rumble acknowledgements through mouthfuls of food before thundering downstairs to your home theater room. You chuckle and shake your head. Teenage appetites are truly a phenomenon.

You’re straightening up the living room when you hear the front door open again, signaling Toto’s return from work.

“Hello, liebling,” he greets you warmly, sweeping you into an embrace.

You kiss him in welcome. “How was work today?”

“The usual madness,” he sighs. “But coming home to you makes it all worthwhile.”

You smile up at him adoringly. Even after all these years, your heart still flutters at his smooth compliments.

“Oh, Lukas has some friends over,” you mention. “They’re downstairs watching movies or playing video games.”

Toto frowns a little. “Those wouldn’t happen to be the same friends who were objectifying you?”

You pat his chest placatingly. “Now dear, we talked about this. Don’t make a fuss.”

“Hmph.” He still looks slightly disgruntled. “Well, I should at least go down and say hello.”

You follow him downstairs, where the group of teenage boys are sprawled out on the sofas engrossed in some action movie. Explosions boom from the surround sound system as CGI buildings crumble onscreen.

They look up when you and Toto enter. “Oh hey Mr. Wolff,” one of them says.

“Vati, you remember my friends right?” Lukas introduces. “Jason, Andrew, Ryan, and David.”

“Ah yes, nice to see you boys again,” Toto says smoothly.

Too smoothly.

You can sense the storm brewing beneath his polite façade.

Sure enough, as the teens’ attention returns to the movie, Toto clears his throat. “So I heard you boys were discussing my wife the other day.”

The room goes silent, save for the cinematic explosions still blaring through the speakers. The boys glance around uneasily.

“Um, we didn’t mean anything bad by it,” David finally offers timidly.

Toto raises an eyebrow. “Oh? So objectifying and sexualizing a married woman is not meant to be disrespectful?”

The teens squirm under his icy stare. You put a warning hand on your husband’s arm, but he continues.

“Let me tell you something about my wife,” he says, an edge creeping into his tone. “She is an elegant, successful, and highly intelligent woman. Not some piece of meat for you ogling schoolboys to drool over.”

The chastised boys all mumble apologies and stare fixedly at the floor.

Toto points a stern finger at them. “I trust there will be no further vulgar comments, or you won’t be welcome in this house again.”

“Yes sir,” they mutter. Lukas looks like he wants the leather couch to swallow him whole. You have to stifle a smile at your husband’s overprotective papa bear routine.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” Toto straightens his suit jacket. “Now you boys enjoy your … movie.”

He turns and heads back upstairs, with you following after an apologetic smile to the shell-shocked teens.

Once you’re out of earshot, you swat his shoulder reproachfully. “Toto! Did you really need to traumatize the poor kids?”

“I didn’t traumatize them,” he huffs. “I just … explained a few things.” At your skeptical look, he amends “ … Firmly.”

You shake your head in exasperation. “You’re impossible. I thought I asked you not to make a fuss.”

He takes your hands earnestly. “I’m sorry, schatzi. I just can’t stand anyone disrespecting you. You deserve to be treated like a queen.”

You soften at the sincerity in his eyes. “Oh Toto. You’re too good to me.” You wrap your arms around him in a conciliatory hug.

He holds you close. “Nonsense. I’ll spend every day proving you’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

You snuggle against his chest, reminded yet again how lucky you are. Even when he overreacts, you know it comes from a place of devotion.

“Just promise me you’ll go easy on the boys,” you say wryly as you pull back. “I think you scared them straight for life.”

Toto smiles ruefully. “I suppose I did get a bit … intense. But the message won’t do any harm.”

You laugh and kiss his cheek. “My noble protector.”

He grins. “Proudly.”

Later, as the boys are getting ready to leave, Toto stops them at the front door.

“Before you go, I have one more thing to say,” he announces. The teens glance at each other nervously.

Toto looks each of them in the eye. “If I ever hear of you disrespecting my wife again, I won’t be so kind. You see, she’s actually a MIDF … Mother I Do Fuck.” He enunciates the words pointedly.

The teens’ eyes widen in horror, and Lukas turns bright red. “Vati!” He hisses in embarrassment.

Toto ignores him. “So I would appreciate it if you kept your crude comments to yourselves next time.” He gives them a tight smile. “Are we clear?”

The boys nod rapidly. “Yes sir. Crystal clear, Mr. Wolff,” one mumbles.

“Good.” Toto claps his hands together. “Then get home safely.”

After the front door shuts behind the fleeing teens, Lukas rounds on his father. “Oh my god, Vati! Why would you say that?”

He shrugs unapologetically. “I wanted to make sure they got the message loud and clear this time.”

Lukas just shakes his head in mortification before stomping upstairs.

You slide your arms around your unrepentant husband. “You just couldn’t resist, could you?”

“They left with a healthy dose of fear and respect,” Toto says smugly. “I think my work here is done.”

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #toto wolff #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff fic #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #toto wolff x y/n #mercedes amg f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagines #f1 fics

[verstappen-cult]

SWEET LIKE VANILLA, M. VERSTAPPEN.

PAIRING. female reader x max verstappen.

SUMMARY — You send Max some ice cream from your brother’s company.

GWEN’S RADIO MESSAGE. i saw a lot of people talking on tw about charles sending max some of LEC ice cream for him to try and i thought. . . why not write that with reader? so here we are. hope you like this silly little thing. comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

“Hey,” You say, scrolling through your phone as your brother flops down next to you. “Could you give me a box of the Vanillove ice cream?”

Charles looks at you for a minute without saying anything, until he shrugs and focuses on the TV. “I thought you hated vanilla.”

“Well, yours is pretty good so,” You shrug, turning to look at him with a pout on your lips and puppy eyes. “Would you do that for your favorite sister?”

���You’re my only sister.” He says, rolling his eyes. “And you’re annoying, but you also know I can’t say no to you.”

“Say no to what?” Arthur pops up from behind the kitchen counter. What is he doing? You don’t know.

“To give me a box of ice cream.”

“You say you couldn’t do that!”

“Of course I can, I just didn’t want to do it for you.” Charles laughs, dodging the water bottle your younger brother throws at him. “Are you two going to the masters this Sunday, right?”

“Yes!” Arthur shouts before disappearing into his room.

“Who is going to the masters again?” Leo wakes up from his nap next to you and climbs on your lap, demanding attention.

“Well, I think Enzo and Charlotte. Lando, Arthur.” He says, checking something on his phone before saying, “And Max.”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Max Verstappen.

The thing is, ever since you decided to partner with Joris and help with whatever thing he and Charles needed and, of course, his social media, you’ve been traveling with them since Las Vegas last year. Which means that you’re a constant presence on the paddock these days. And, thanks to that, you’ve become very close with some of the drivers, especially with one more than the others.

You weren’t looking for it, it kind of just happened when you bumped into him at a nightclub in Las Vegas after your own brother ditched you to make out with some random guy in the bathrooms. Max was kind enough to keep you company and then, when your brother stumbled out of the bathroom too drunk to remember his own name, he drove you both back to your hotel. He even made sure you were in your room before saying goodbye and going to his own hotel.

From then on you couldn’t stop bumping into him literally everywhere, so, it was only natural that you’d start making conversation, then following each other on Instagram was just as natural as moving the conversation to text messages (it was easier).

Your friendship has developed so much that you’ve been running together around Monaco lately, after you bumped into him at seven in the morning, surprised to see him running the same path as you.

And if you had a crush on the Red Bull driver before you started to be friendly with each other, well, nobody needs to know that — especially not your brothers or you’ll never hear the end of it. It was hard to act normal around him at first. You were just a girl with a crush, after all. But things have become a lot easier with time to the point of forgetting about the big, fat crush you have on the Dutchman. Well, that is until he does or says something that has you blushing and stuttering and acting like a complete fool in front of him.

Knowing that Max is going to be there this Sunday is equally mortifying, and exciting.

“Oh, okay.” You smile, scratching behind Leo’s ears while your brother has his eyes on you. “I’m coming, by the way.”

Charles hums, “The box is going to be here tomorrow.”

Your belly erupts with butterflies at the thought of what you’re about to do with that box of ice cream.

It’s Sunday, sunny and everyone is wearing their best clothes while waiting for the match to start.

You’re standing next to Lando, who is talking to Charles about the next race, when you see Max Verstappen coming in.

He’s wearing some blue navy linen pants with a white button down of the same material, a pair of dark sunglasses and his singular smirk.

Max is greeted by your older brother, who is quick to engage in conversation about some random thing you can’t hear from where you are standing.

But then he’s excusing himself and walking over to you.

You don’t know if he’s actually looking at you thanks to the sunglasses covering his eyes, but you feel small and shy nonetheless.

“Hey, mate.” Lando claps his shoulder, making space for Max to stand between you and him.

“Hey,” This time you know he’s looking at you because his entire body is turned in your direction.

“Hey, Maxie.” You say, the corners of your mouth curling up. “Nice clothes.” You cringe the second the words leave your lips. Nice clothes, really?

Max just chuckles before looking over to your brother. “Hey, Charlie. Thanks for the ice cream.”

Oh. My. God.

Shit.

Fuck.

You had forgotten about that.

Well, no. You hadn’t forgotten about it because, in fact, you've been thinking about the box of LEC ice cream that you sent Max all week.

You didn’t think he was going to bring it up, because you were sure he was going to think that Charles was nice enough to send his friend some of his ice cream. Or even that it was some PR move from his part.

However, he brings it up in front of you. And Lando. And the owner of the ice cream who doesn’t know anything about it. All he knows is that you wanted some vanilla ice cream because you said you liked it.

“What are you talking about?” Charles asks, confused. “It’s not being sold in Monaco yet.”

It’s Max’s turn to look confused. “What?” He takes off his sunglasses. And you’re not at all ready to see his deep blue eyes, so you avoid looking up at him. “You sent me a box of… Vanillove is it called? I didn’t know you knew I only liked vanilla.”

You want to die. You want for the earth to swallow you right now.

“Max,” Charles says at the same time you look at him, eyes pleading not to say anything. “What?” He asks you, eyebrows raised in question.

And then you have two more pairs of eyes on you.

You decide, right at that moment, that you’re not going to talk to Charles ever again. Why does everyone talk about that silent connection between siblings where they know what is going on with just a look? Because you, certainly, don’t have it with Charles.

Lando snorts, hands immediately covering his mouth. He looks at you, amusement on his face.

Oh, that is just great. Lando knows.

And your brother still has no clue, “What happens?” He asks again, this time grabbing your arm softly to make you look at him, but your sandals are more interesting.

“The match is about to start.”

Thank God for Lorenzo. You could kiss him just because he came at the right moment to save you from embarrassing yourself even more without even knowing.

Everybody talks and moves at the same time, making their ways over the seats.

“Hey,” Max touches your shoulder, making you turn around. “Are you okay?” Max touches your forehead with the back of his hand and you pray to all the gods above that he doesn’t notice you shivering because of it.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just the sun. It is a little hot.” You smile, dismissing the topic with a wave of your hand.

“I’ll get you some water,” He drops his hand and you immediately miss his warmth. “save me a seat?”

You feel your heart hammering in your ears as you nod, walking away with his question and the little smile that came with it replaying in your head.

You find your seats behind Arthur and his girlfriend, in the rows next to yours separated by the stairs is Charles and Lando, yapping like their lives depend on it, next to them is Lorenzo and Charlotte.

You’re thinking about what to say to Charles because he is, eventually, going to ask you about what is going on and you know he will not rest until you give him an answer. You are a shitty liar, so you need to practice.

Max calls your name, drawing your attention back to the present.

“You have your head in the clouds today.” He hands you a water bottle and you take a long sip, trying to gain some control over yourself.

“I’m sorry.”

“Will you tell me what is going on?” Max looks intently at you, a small smile still on his lips.

You sigh. Well, he needs to know, right? You owe him that.

But then, Max is leaning closer and pushing a strand of hair out of your face, resting his hand in the back of your neck and stroking ever so softly.

“You smell,” He says, closing his eyes for a second and inhaling. “sweet like vanilla.”

His words send a thrill down your spine, words stuck in your throat. Max expression softens, mixed with something you can’t describe.

He rubs his thumb gently over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“You sent the ice cream, didn’t you?”

You take a sharp intake of breath.

The closeness and the warmth emanating from his body along with his touch are making your brain go fuzzy at the edges.

“Y/N?” He smiles at you when you make eye contact, his blue eyes deep as the ocean. “It was you?”

You nod, blood rushing to your cheeks. “Yes.” You breathe, embarrassed and shy and feeling like an idiot.

“I knew it.” He says, chucking. You tilt your head to the side in a silent question. “I told you about my favorite ice cream flavor just a few weeks ago. And suddenly I have a box full of vanilla ice cream from LEC?” Max pulls his hand away, but is still close to you. “I mean, Charles and I are friends but we’re not that close.”

“Oh, God.” You hide your face behind your hands. “I was going to tell you. Eventually.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You look at him from between your fingers. “I don’t know.”

Max sighs, lopsided grin plastered on his face. “Now you have to come to my apartment and help me with them. It’s a lot for one person.” He shrugs, trying to look nonchalant but you see the blush quickly spreading over his cheeks.

“I would love to.”

Max flops his head on your shoulder and gazes up at you with those big blue eyes of his. “It is a date.”

Max definitely doesn’t need to know that you hate vanilla ice cream.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱ #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you

[kentopedia]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ SAFEGUARD — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa

summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.

contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself — 3.5k total

notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

there are very few times that chuuya feels he’s been outsmarted. he knows he’s not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isn’t a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold. 

your relationship isn’t a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isn’t a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know it’s hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesn’t have the power of a god nestled inside of her.

the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemies’ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity. 

the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants. 

chuuya kills them all — except for one.

the man’s knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesn’t last long, though, before he’s wrapping a hand around the man’s throat, thrusting him backwards. 

“where is she?” chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding. 

he can feel the man swallowing. 

chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it won’t matter whether they show up or not. he’ll crush the rest of his enemies just as he’s crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well. 

“i-i’ll take you to her,” he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuya’s hand. 

he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before he’s kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.

the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you. 

how fiercely and loyally he loves you — it drives him to near insanity. 

finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you. 

chuuya’s rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. “get the fuck away from her,” he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.

“what are you doing in here?” the men left in the room panic, but they don’t have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them. 

limply, they fall to the floor. 

chuuya rushes over to you. 

the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isn’t worried about him. he’s a coward; he’ll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and he’ll burn this building to the ground once he’s gotten you away from it. 

“hey,” chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. he’s not sure if it’s exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but you’re still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing. 

“hey,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. “wake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?” 

it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. “chuuya?” you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. “is it really you?” 

guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and you’re delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably haven’t eaten, either. 

he should’ve been there. no one should’ve ever had the chance to hurt you, yet…

“it’s me, i’m here,” he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. “shit,” chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.” 

he can’t get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. “it’s okay, chuuya,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re here now.” 

“you have to stay awake,” he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesn’t know how hurt you are. chuuya’s no expert when it comes to medicine, but he’s smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones. 

“stay awake for me, okay, honey? i’ll get you back to the boss and we’ll find you a doctor. you’ll be just fine.” 

“okay, chuuya,” you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, “i just want to go home.” 

"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later. 

finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. you’re so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. “let’s get you home.” 

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀. . .

the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion. 

normally, he doesn’t stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off. 

with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to mori’s office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone else’s jobs had been completed. he’s a lot of things, but he’s never been a slacker; and he’ll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.

though, he doesn’t have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him. 

he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored — an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage. 

“how rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?” mori says, sighing histrionically.

but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if it’s been dipped in ice. he can’t explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldn’t feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course. 

but you… you’re different. 

“can i trust you to diffuse the situation?” mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. “i can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.” 

akutagawa doesn’t even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own. 

he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.

there’s a ransom — bring them the money and they’ll return you, mori had told him. you’re only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable. 

mori probably would’ve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you. 

as regrettable as that may be.

akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow. 

“are we not in a rush?” akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.

“apologies,” the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest.  

even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy. 

akutagawa doesn’t care who they are. he doesn’t care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. he’ll rip them apart, easily, and he’ll make them suffer — they’ll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets. 

what he feels for you… well, it’s too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesn’t even know if that’s his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.

and he can’t do that if you’re dead.

finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. it’s tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesn’t want to be found. 

akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain. 

a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him. 

though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain. 

he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and you’re there — bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding. 

his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips. 

“where are they?” he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you. 

you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, he’s so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads. 

“gone,” you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. “they fled when they heard it was you coming.” 

“and left you?” he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions aren’t as visible on his features as he thinks they are. “were you not a ransom?” 

“no,” you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. “i was bait.”

anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. “i’ll go after them. where are they headed? they’ll pay, i’ll slaughter—”

“ryunosuke,” you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. “stay.” 

he has half a mind to ignore you — the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes… you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken. 

“please,” you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word. 

he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what he’s doing with you. 

“i’ll call hirotsu,” he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you. 

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies. 

though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest. 

his only love — his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well. 

dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating. 

but he can’t always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe. 

he should’ve at least told you to take a friend. 

“boss,” his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. “i’m so sorry. your wife—”

“if anything… anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?” dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. “i will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.” 

“of course, sir,” the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the boss’s wife to get herself into such a situation. 

and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harm’s way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isn’t able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you. 

with all the strings he’s able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesn’t take long to find you, for those that have bravely — or stupidly — used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation. 

there’s little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own. 

he’s already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they won’t have ever existed. 

today, he doesn’t care what happens as long as he finds you alive. 

you’re held hostage by two men — so completely beaten that they’ve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you can’t even open them. 

dazai doesn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall. 

slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive. 

he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemy’s face changes — any of his remaining hope vanishes. 

“you told me she was unharmed,” dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats. 

the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. “we lied.” he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile. 

dazai hums. “you the leader?” 

the man doesn’t give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. he’s no one — just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you. 

“didn’t think so.” dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all. 

dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, you’ve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him — the worst side of him. 

you’re no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when you’ve shared a life with him for years? but that doesn’t mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become. 

he stumbles over to you, where you’re still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isn’t right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple. 

it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you. 

“i’m sorry,” he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that he’ll hurt you even more. “i’m sorry, darling. i should’ve — i should’ve been there.” dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. “fuck. fuck — i’ll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. i’ll cut them down one by one.” 

“osamu,” you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. “i—”

you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words don’t leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.

“hey, hey, hey.” dazai’s voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch that’s barely there. “you’re safe. i’m here, okay? they’re not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.” 

you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.

“can you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?” 

you hesitate for a moment before answering; he’s not sure if there’s a reason you only answer the first question. “i can walk.” 

dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you — and that’s all that matters.

thank you for reading !!! ❤︎

#bsd x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x you #dazai x you #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya nakahara x you #bsd x you #bsd imagines #bsd x y/n #dazai osamu x reader #chuuya imagines #bsd fanfic #bsd x gender neutral reader #dazai x fem reader #akutagawa ryuunosuke x reader #akutagawa x you #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa x y/n

[xueyidweams]

My faves of Penacony (Aventurine & Acheron) x gn!reader who gives them a flower bouquet ramble(!!!!)

Aventurine

i have fancy gifs now woagh!

You were a bartender at a bar that was located in a pretty big casino in Penacony, where the gamblers come to drink their defeat away or celebrate their big wins. You’re pretty used to the racket and seeing the same faces and one day you see him. That gambler, he who never loses, he who has such pretty eyes and lips and he who winks at you so handsomely as you try to do your job and he who always seems to make some sort of electricity run through your whole body when your fingers brush.

You’re not a child, you know you at least like him romantically. You were gonna show your love with some flowers! That’s a classic, right? So you pick up some that you think match his pretty eyes perfectly and go to work, it’s pretty awkward but you can’t really see him anywhere else so this is your only shot.

You perk up as you’re cleaning some glasses and you hear his voice. Your heart does its routine again, beating so fast you feel like it’s gonna zoom out of your chest. You pat your chest just where your heart is and take a deep breath as he calls for his favorite drink. You make it, giving yourself an internal pep talk while doing so, and you present him with his drink. Only now, his glass is decorated with the flowers you bought for him, you decided to be more subtle at the end with a little note. “I hope you like the flowers, no match for your pretty eyes but I hope it makes you smile nonetheless.” Aeons you sucked at romance but damn it you tried and now you feel hot under the collar as you try your best to focus on your customers while aventurine’s eyes are STARING directly at your nape you can FEEL it.

You flinch a bit when he calls your name with that sultry voice of his, you go up to him trying to keep up some sort of professionalism. though that all goes down the window when he beckons you a bit closer, picks up a flower from the glass and tucks it onto your ear. “I think they look even prettier on you.” You stumble over your words as he smiles wordlessly, his eyes full of warmth you didn’t know they could hold and oh Aeons he is so much more pretty like this. Prettier closer, you really don’t want to pull away but there are customers yelling for you already and ugh!

He chuckles as he notices your obvious agitation, “go look after your customers, I’ll treat you to dinner if you’d like? Whatever you want, it’s on me.” He gets even closer, he is shorter when he’s sitting and its adorable to see him looking up at you— “if you’d allow me to privilege of getting to know you better, of course.”

Acheron

As a hotel worker for the family themselves you’re expected to be professional and helpful at all times. Always show a smile never be so impatient, they are precious guests after all.

You sigh as you clean another pool of a soda that’s not even sold in Penacony, how did that even get there? as you complain in your mind about how rude these people are to you just because you’re getting paid to clean up their messes doesn’t mean they can just—

“Hello?”

Your head snaps up and your customer smile comes back, “Hello! Anything I can help you with, miss?” She blinks at you for a moment, caught off guard by your overly cheery attitude, she looks around and then at you. her gaze feels intense, it makes you feel shy. She finally speaks, “I’m.. lost. I don’t know where my room is.” Oh, okay that’s easy.

“What was the number, miss?” She looks at you blankly again, you both sit in silence for a few seconds, and she speaks again. “I’m sorry I forgot that… too.” You sigh as you internally facepalm. Deciding that this pretty but directionally confused lady needs help, you put on your big person pants and ask for her room number from the reception and you escort her to her room. She thanks you as she looks at you from head to toe, there’s a small smile on her face.

This happens a few more times over the week, you keep helping her. her company is really nice, she doesn’t really judge and you can talk about how much of a bother she can be, she affirms your woes with a nod or a hum and thats enough honestly. worst of all.. okay look, love at first sight might be cliche but come on! she’s pretty, tall, has a nice voice and is polite to you. she even brushed a plastic leaf that got on your head and her hand dipped to your cheek, you could feel the cold metal on her fingers and the eye contact went on for a few seconds too long and you felt yourself melt. plus! she was a guest, who knows how long she’s gonna be here? better take your chances.

You give yourself a pretty short pep talk, “if yes hug her if no run away.” pretty good plan all things considered. You had a purple flower bouquet on your hands and some chocolate that was cheesily made for valentine and you got it half for the price. You knock on her door and hear a shuffle, with every step she takes your heart beats faster and faster until she opens the door and it feels like the time stops. You stutter and stumble as her eyes bore into you, she seems full of interest but it still makes you nervous to be the center of attention. “I.. I um… ah!” You can’t do it, you thrust the flowers onto her arms, she takes it and you make a run for it, you’re so dumb dumb dumb what the hell were you thinking oh Aeons she hates you now she does—

what you don’t see is her smelling the flowers and looking after your running form, a familiar yet distinct warmth bleeds to her heart. Her smile a little softer, her eyes a little warmer, she holds onto the flowers and the next time she sees you, she will have some flowers ready for you too.

#im like a machine holy moly i wanted to write for more charas but its 1 am i have classes tmrw😭 #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail #aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr x reader #acheron #acheron x reader #hsr acheron #hsr acheron x reader #honkai star rail x reader

[bigfatbimbo]

I am haunted by visions of Vox with a capable assistant who doms him after hours. The role reversal of guy thinking he can fuck his secretary but she turns the tables and fucks him has me sweating

I got inspired by a turn of phrase that would might have been popular a little bit before Vox’s time “his girl, Friday”

Basically a “girl Friday” was a term used for a woman in the office who acted as a jack of all trades and was good at doing a bunch of different jobs. This person was usually very capable and the office’s go-to-girl for anything and everything

So I keep imagining Vox with this hyper-competent assistant. He hires her and after becoming familiar with the company, she manages to handle things before he even asks her to do them. He decides to try and rattle her a bit with impossible tasks to knock her down a peg, but she takes that as a challenge and somehow completes them with a smarmy “will that be all,sir”

Game on. He keeps challenging her and asking for crazier shit just to prove that she can be shaken. She doesn’t even flinch, it’s a little intimidating and bruises his ego

Eventually he’s working late (which means she’s working late because somehow their work ethics are equally insane) and he starts being all snide and pissy and she just puts him in his place, insulting his behavior and his temper and physically backs him into his desk before telling him that he needs to be taught proper manners

And from then on, by day she’s Vox’s right hand who never leaves his side. But by night she bends her boss over his desk or presses him into his office chair, making him whimper and moan as she teaches him a lesson and berates him

So yeah, boss tries to dominate assistant but she effortlessly reverses their roles and makes him cry “Yes, ma’am!”

People think he’s tapping his assistant but whenever comments are made they share a look and Vox just thinks “they can’t ever know that I call you Mommy”

So the other day, I posted about wanting to do a human Vox au but lacking ideas, and one of the comments was involving an assistant x boss type deal. I don’t know if this ask is unrelated or directly caused by that post, but it gives me lots of ideas for a more specific au involving human Vox.

Anyways, since it wasn’t specified, i’ll keep the alive or dead details pretty vague. When I tell you this idea has been rotting in my brain all day, I fucking mean it.

Like this is genuinely about to get me out of writers block oh my fucking god. “His girl, friday” is a term i’ve never heard before but it’s so fitting with this. I love the go-getter incredibly efficient reader so much.

And god, it would bother Vox to an ungodly point. Because being in close quarters a lot, you being his assistant, of course he picks up on your efficiency. It makes him a little insecure because you honestly get things done quicker than he could.

So after throwing everything he can at you to knock you overboard your parade of orderliness, and you doing it all absolutely flawlessly, he can’t help but throw one of his tantrums.

Coming to him at the the end of the day, explaining you did everything he’d asked, and went beyond, closed multiple business deals for him, and got the inside information on upcoming possible marketing events. He should be happy, this objectively helps his business. But instead, he sits at his desk, watching you from across the room, before absolutely exploding.

I mean, you do his jobs better than he does. And he goes on a huge rant about how he doesn’t believe this, and how you must have absolutely no life, and basically degrading and insulting you for doing your job correctly.

And then yes, you yell at him, practically daring him to fire you. He won’t, you’re too much of an asset. You’re basically untouchable. So with that, you yell back, but unlike Vox who erupted with rage, you keep yourself as level headed as possible while talking sternly. Make even talking to him condescending as of talking to a child, explaining how it’s absolutely unbelievable he’s throwing a fit over good work ethic, and how he’d have to be out of his mind to pout about something so beneficial for Voxtech.

Going on and on about how his competitive, aggressive, targeting work behavior is unacceptable and pathetic… and now you have him back up against his desk, his sneer turning into a look of astonishment.

And then his eyes dart down, heat rising to his cheeks, and you notice the bulge in his pants. At first, you go silent, but then tease him with “You want me to take care of that too? Or will you yell at me for being too good at my job.”

Well, then he’s mad again. Probably definitely a struggle for power the first time you fuck. Yes, he tries to dom you, and fails because jesus, he really was pathetic. But you have him lied back in his chair, pinning his wrists down to either side of him, while you ride his dick into overstimulation. But he’s trying to keep quiet so no one else is the office hears his whimpers and whines.

But when he gets too loud, simply remind him that you’ll have to stop and he responds with a watery, whimper of “Y-yes ma’am.”

Now, fridays are dedicated to his girl, friday. Coincidentally, you’re both working late on those days, and even more coincidentally, you have business in his office.

That business being bending Vox over his desk until he has to cover his pathetic sobs with his hand so a janitor doesn’t hear him crying for his mommy.

Anyways, I’m almost done. I think this specifically appeals to me in a human Vox au sense because i’m hell, a work place of hell wouldn’t be particularly normalized, but it’s hell so it’s absolutely not frowned upon. He’d probably get teased about it at best, and literally a high five for tapping that. But in a human au, the stakes are much higher because there’s an actual sense of ethics and morals in business.

Also in the fifties, do you even know how taboo it would be for a boss to not only be sleeping with his assistant, but getting dominated by her every night???? I dunno.

Oh and the toxic masculinity of it all because it’s the 1950s and without being exposed to the normalization of kinks in hell, it would be so hard to break this brat down. Obviously not impossible, it’s Vox. But so much more irritating.

However, i’m hesitant to actually do a human au literally because of the silly picture I always put at the beginning. Because like I have such a specific image of what he looks like in my head (the @//notherpuppet human design) but… I don’t want to have to DM an artist and be like “Hey! love the art, can I use it for my dom reader power dynamic assistant x boss Vox x reader human au fic 😁😁😁🙏🙏” LIKE GANG I CANNOT.

Anyways, this wasn’t proofread, rant over, bimbo out.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #dom reader #vox x reader #inbox open #sub vox

[magics-neptunes-things]

Kiss Me More

Hi guys :)

I had a request for the last chapter for the serie "Kiss Me", so here it is :)

I hope it will suits you, dear anon.

Enjoy ♥

TW : Mention of cheating

PART 1 | PART 2

______________________________________________________________

Being Katie McCabe’s girlfriend is something you were hoping to be for several weeks before it happens. You both needed a little of adjustment at first, Katie was sometimes a little bit reluctant to pass to much time with you. You were hurt at first, thinking that she finally wasn’t interested to the idea of making things with you. When she realized that she hurt you, you had an explanation, where she basically told you that she didn’t want things to go to fast. Because a part of her was always scared of something going wrong or something.

You were great now, she isn’t the most demonstrative person in the world, at least when you are not alone. You can live with that actually, both of you decided to hide your relationship to the public for now. Not all of your teammates know about your relationship, but the ones who are your friends know.

Katie makes a point to let you understand that she is in charge in this relationship, but as bossy as she wants to be, you can only see how much she looks for you. When you are not coming to work together, she always waits for you in the locker room to have her kiss before going to training. When you are eating with other of your teammates at the training facilities, she always sneaks her chocolate to you. And you can say that she remembers everything you tell her.

Your favorite chocolate, your favorite flower, your favorite color, the name of the cat you had when you were a kid, where you like to go for a walk, your favorite TV show… She knows everything and she is always proud about it.

That’s the kind of things that makes you realize that she really cares about you.

********

“Do you really need to go?” you ask in a pouting tone, wrapped around your girlfriend.

Katie needs to go, you know that. She has to go to Ireland for the national break. You stay in London yourself, your ankle being a little sore and Australia only playing friendly, both of your teams decide to let you rest. You’re a little sad not to go have fun with Caitlin, Steph and Kyra, but you will next time.

“Yes, I have to. But I still could take you in my pocket” she smirks.

“I think I’d like that” you smile back.

Katie laughs and you cuddle even more against her, trying to get as much from your girlfriend as possible. It’s only two weeks, but you don’t like when she’s not around. She seems a little less needy than you are, but she never said anything about your behavior with her. Katie being very honest, you know that she would have said something if she didn’t like something you do.

You feel her shiver when you take a big breath in her neck and you smile, letting your finger run on the skin of her abs. But she knows what you’re doing, because several seconds after, she takes your hand in hers.

“We don’t have time for that, my pretty lady.”

“Can’t make it quick?” you tease.

“Not with you.”

She kisses you and you let her, distractedly asking yourself if it’s a compliment or not. But you soon come back to reality, Katie will leave in some minutes now. You’re at her house, you’ve got her cat’s supervision while she’s away. Ella, her sister, has too but she will rejoin her for the game in Ireland in some days.

You will not, because it would be too risky to do it. People would easily understand what’s happening if you go to the game. And with the social media, it would be impossible to hide. You know it. You’re still a little sad, but you don’t say anything to Katie about it.

She seems a little sad when she says goodbye to you at her door. The way she puts your hair behind your ear before kissing you softly say it all. You don’t need Katie to words what she’s feeling because you can feel it too.

“Write me?” you ask when she takes you against her one more time.

“Course. You too, ok?”

You nod, not trusting your voice at this moment. You hide your face on her neck one last time, breathing her sent. But you know you have to let her go; her Uber won’t wait for her forever.

After a last-minute recommendation about Coopurr, she kisses you a last time before running to the car with her suitcase. You can’t help but smile, waving back at her when she does from the back seat.

********

Katie lost her first game against France and in your opinion, it wasn’t really deserved. Maybe you are biased, but Katie would have deserved to score the goal at the 86th minute. She’s still fuming about her teammates fail and you try to distract her while showing her cat.

It’s seems to work, Coopurr’s purring making her smile. Ella left this morning, and you feel a little lonely here. Thanks god, Lia is in London too and you have someone you like to pass time with you. She is dog-sitting one of the dogs of your teammates and you wonder how it would look like when some of them would have children too.

You were actually walking Calvin with Lia, when you receive a message from one of your friends. You don’t really like when someone send you a “Have you seen that?!” with an article. You were not walking fast because of Lia’s leg, so you don’t have to slow to read it. Maybe sitting on a bench would have been a clever idea though.

You are currently reading an article of a girl, explaining how she slept with Katie McCabe. Your girlfriend. You know that Katie had some hookup before things are getting different between you, but the timing isn’t good. Katie and you are together for four months now. And this girl is literally talking about last week, exactly the day when Katie and her teammates went to a bar to decompress from the training. When you said to Katie that you find it strange, she laughs and answered “Meh we are Irish. Beer is in our DNA.” Which made you laugh at the time, but you are far from laughing right now.

“What’s going on?”

You realize that Lia called your name almost two times before you raise your face to look at her. Not being able to talk, you just give her your phone. You watch closely at her face when she reads it, and you see her passing from questioning to shock. She looks at you straight in the eyes when she gives you your phone back.

“Do you think that’s true?”

There is a lump in your throat that keeps you from talking right. You try to swallow it before talking.

“There are a lot of details.”

Lia nods. There are a lot of details. About Katie and her flat in Dublin, the same one where Ella was living before coming to London too.

“Come on, let’s go home. You need to call Katie.”

********

You did not call Katie, but you didn’t answer her messages or her call either. You know it’s stupid and maybe a little immature. But you cannot face it now. The betrayal is too hard to support, and you cried so much that you are not sure that your eyes will be white again one day.

You still take care of Coopurr though, the cat not leaving your side when you are at Katie’s house. You know she can see you coming if she wants, she installed security cameras outside and inside the house. Other than that, you just go to your flat to sleep the most that you can. You do not want to face this, maybe if you keep hiding the pain will fade away.

It doesn’t. You are startled awake two days after, with loud banging against your door. You hesitate to go answering, but you are clearly in fear that the person will break your door if you don’t get up.

So, you do, trying to arrange your hair in a messy bun. You are wearing Katie’s Irish away jumper and a pair of black Nike shorts. You’re pathetic. But Lia seems to be more relieved than judgy about your appearance when she sees you. She has her phone in her hand, but the relieved soon let place to a frown.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Sleeping?”

She grunts and close the door behind her when she comes in your flat. Thanks god you cleaned last night, tired to be in a messy place.

“Why aren’t you answering to Katie?”

“I can’t” you whisper, following her in the living room.

Lia turns around to look at you and her face softens when she sees you. She hesitates several seconds, before handing you her phone.

“Well, do it now.”

You look at the screen to realize that she was already calling someone for almost 45 minutes already. It’s Katie. Lia encourages you to take it with another nod of her head. You sigh and take it, letting yourself fall in the couch behind you.

“Hello?” you mumble.

“Bloody hell, where were you?!”

You wince at Katie’s tone, Lia taping your shoulder in an attempt of recomfort before leaving for the kitchen. You appreciate the intimacy she offers you, but you would have preferred to have her with you to be honest.

“Why aren’t you answering to any of my text or call? What happened?”

Katie seems on verge of breaking down and that’s maybe what made you snap. You don’t shout with Katie; you know that it doesn’t make any sense to do it with her. She’s loud, but you were always able to talk about things without shouting.

“I don’t know, you tell me?” you say icily.

“I don’t understand.”

You can easily imagine her with her eyebrows frown. You sigh before rolling your eyes. If she wants proof, you’re going to give some to her.

“I’ll send you something. After that, if you have something more to tell me, call me back.”

You don’t wait for her answer before hanging up. You take your phone, looking for the article your friend sent you. You didn’t answer to him, but right now, it doesn’t matter. You sent the link to Katie, before going to the kitchen to give Lia her phone back.

“Do you want me to stay, or can I leave?” the Swiss captain asks.

“You can go, Wally. Thanks for coming.”

“Anytime. Call me, ok?”

You smile slightly and nod, letting her kiss your cheek before she leaves. You just have closed the door behind her when your phone start ringing. It’s Katie, requiring a FaceTime. You answer and Katie’s face is almost white when you see her.

“This is bullshit. I never did that, I swear.”

You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You are honestly so tired, the amount of sleep you had those past hours are not very good. And sad, of course.

“I don’t know, Katie” you whisper.

“No, it’s the truth! You have to believe me, baby please.”

“How can she know all of these things, Kat?” you say wearily. “She even knows that you have a birthmark on your tummy, or how your kitchen is decorated.”

“Ella always made TikTok in that flat before she comes to London! And for my birthmark, it probably visible on some pictures. You know that I give my jersey to kids sometimes after the game. People take me on picture every time.”

You let several seconds passed, trying to listen to her. The last part is true, you saw thousand pictures of your girlfriend in sport bra on the football fields. For the second part you don’t see her making things like this, particularly with the fact that you just have to go on TikTok to see if it’s the truth or not.

“Come on Babe, why in the world would I ask you out if it’s just for sleeping around soon after?”

“I don’t know.”

You are desperate. You want to believe her, of course you do. You know she has sometimes trouble with talking about her feelings, but you never thought about her cheating on you. She’s one of the most loyal persons you know.

“You know what? I’m taking a plane right now.”

“What?”

Katie is suddenly moving, and the noise of a suitcase that is open is audible from the phone.

“No Katie, you can’t do that. You have training tomorrow and a game in two days against England.”

“I don’t give a damn fuck.”

You almost roll your eyes.

“Katie, stop.”

She listens and look at you, her face dark and her eyebrow frown. She looks determined but she still stopped when you asked her.

“You can’t do that” you repeat.

“Well come to Ireland. I’ll sent you the ticket for the plane.”

“Katie…”

“Stop calling me that!” she shouts.

“Calling you what?” you ask, frowning.

“Katie.”

She says it like it’s a bad world or something and this time you can’t help but roll your eyes at her.

“It’s your name?” you point.

“You stopped calling me that after we start dating. Stop calling me Katie and come to Dublin. Please.”

********

That’s how you find yourself in a plane for Dublin, reserved by Katie who put you in first class. You roll your eyes when you realize it and sent her a picture of you in your seat when you are in the plane. Since your call, Katie almost never stops calling or texting you. You don’t understand how she managed to get the time to go to training, but she does. And the pictures of her on Instagram can say you that it’s the truth.

She warned you that she won’t be able to come to pick you at the airport, but you are surprised to see a man with your name on a paper waiting for you. He smiles at you, informing you that Katie sent him to drive you to her hotel.

He talks to you about Dublin and some places during the journey to the hotel, while you are looking by the window. You never went to Ireland before, only for football. Maybe Katie will show you around if you manage to forget your fight. And you definitively need to change the idea you made in your head that Katie really cheated on you.

You know that some of your friends saw the article too, but no one talked about it to you. Maybe because you were ignoring everyone, true.

When you arrive, you hide behind your hood because you don’t want anyone to recognize you for now. You’re really fearing to find yourself facing Ruesha, for example. Katie told you her room number and your hands are shaking when you knock on the door of her hotel room.

It took her several seconds to respond, but she finally opens the door. She looks tired honestly, but she’s at camp so it’s maybe not surprising. She froze a little when she sees you, like if she doesn’t believe that you will actually come. You’re the one breaking the silence, rather awkwardly to be honest.

“Hi” you whisper, waving your hand.

Thanks god, Katie doesn’t seem to mind. She doesn’t laugh, taking you against her. Hard.

“You’re here” she whispers while holding you.

You nod, finding solace in her embrace. You missed her, obviously. It would have felt better to find her without all this drama though. She lets you go only several minutes after, not only releasing you totally. She looks at you and you look back, both of you not knowing where to start.

“I’m sorry for the article” Katie finally says after some time.

You shrug, not knowing what you could answer to that. She doesn’t ask for it, cheating or not cheating.

“Do you believe me now?”

You know that the answer to the question is important for her. Like you said, Katie’s loyal. And it’s one of the things who are the most important for her. You know it, you know Katie.

“I think I do” you finally say very slowly.

You see that Katie is looking at your face and your eyes with attention, maybe looking for any trace of doubt from your part. You believe her, that doesn’t mean that the article was forgotten. The way you felt when you first read it is still very perennial in you.

“Yeah?” she asks softly.

You nod, smiling very lightly when she strokes your cheek. She gives you the impression that you are made of glass, and you don’t know if she ever been so delicate with you.

“Come sit down.”

She takes you by the hand and you let her drag you in her bed. You sit here, next to her, with your back against the headboard. Katie sits in front of you, playing with her thumb and her nails.

“I’m going to talk, but if you have something to say please feel free to stop me, ok?” Katie asks.

You nod, looking at her. You are curious to know what she might want to tell you. Does she even know that girl? Or did that girl create all this story?

“I know that I’m maybe not the perfect girlfriend and I know that our relationship didn’t really start like it was supposed to. I’ll always had a thing for you, but I was scared, I was an asshole, and it was honestly easier for me to just sleep with you and try to pass to something else. That’s what I tried to do, but it didn’t work. I was still thinking about you, even more than before.”

Katie stops to take a breath and you are still looking at her, not saying a word for now. You don’t know if Katie thought about what to say to you, but for now you understand what she’s saying.

“I never slept with someone else since our first time, I couldn’t even if I tried and that scared the shit out of me. It was so hard to deal with the breakup with Ruesha, not because I was still in love with her, but because it was so shit, you know? I really don’t want to have to deal with that once again.”

You nod slowly, still not talking. This point makes you a little uneasy to be honest. You knew that Katie’s ex will be here to the camp. And you don’t know how the hell are all the people doing, because it was hard for you to be ok with the fact that Ruesha was seeing Katie every day and not you.

“But then there was this damn girl hitting on you right in front of me and I couldn’t support it. I was only thinking that you were mine, but you weren’t. And at that point I didn’t know if you wanted to be mine or if my behavior ruined everything we could have. But you give me a chance, and I’ll be forever grateful for it. That’s why I will never do anything and take the risk to lose you, Y/N. I really care for you and you mean more to me than you think.”

Katie never talked to you about her feelings the way she is doing now. You are touched, of course. You were in love with her before you slept together for the first time, not thinking a second that she might be interested in you too. She seems so vulnerable now, her voice shaking a little at the end. Maybe it’s the emotions, maybe it’s because how much she talked. Maybe both.

You softly take her hand in yours, interlocking your fingers together.

“I really care about you too. That’s why this… things was so hard to read. I don’t understand why someone would invented something like that.”

“I dunno. For celebrity maybe”

Katie shrugs, not really having interest in that for now. All that mattered to her right now is being sure that you trust her. That you believe her and she didn’t lose you.

“Are we good?” she asks, searching for your eyes.

“You promise that nothing happened?”

“I swear on Coopurr’s head, babygirl.”

“Ok” you laugh, rolling your eyes.

You can’t hide the fact that this is the first time that you laugh since you red this article on the park with Lia.

“Hug?”

Katie opens her arms with a slight smile and you don’t hesitate once second before going for her. Your movement make you both fall in the bed and you smile when you hear Katie’s laugh. You missed it. You missed her.

“God I missed you” Katie mumbles from under you, reading in your mind.

“I missed you too” you say honestly, letting your head rest against her shoulder.

She just hums, stroking your back softly while steering at the ceiling. You feel yourself dozen, you haven’t really had a good sleep those last days. But soon there is knock against Katie’s door and you jump.

“McCabe, diner!”

Katie sighs softly and release you to sit on the bed.

“Is it now that I leave?” you asks, not able to hide your disappointment.

“If you want to. Otherwise, you can wait for me here, I’ll sneak something for you to eat and we can sleep together. Tomorrow morning I’ll make my sister come to get you and you can come to the game?”

“Won’t people ask what the hell I am doing here?” you arch an eyebrow.

“That’s not their business. Unless it disturbs you.”

“It doesn’t”

“So it’s settled then” Katie shrugs, getting up from the bed.

She kisses you one more time before leaving and you decide to take the time to shower. You fall asleep while waiting for her, only taking the time to eat the sandwich and snacks she takes with her in the room before falling asleep again. You slept better in her arms than you did since like forever.

And the next day, when Ella came to take you to Katie’s flat at Dublin, you are feeling good again. Katie didn’t cheat on you.

Ireland didn’t win against England, but you are prouder than ever of your girlfriend. You decide to wear Katie’s jersey and to watch the game with her family in the stadium. Your presence didn’t went unnoticed, but like Katie said, you both didn’t care. To be honest, you even have fun to post what fans like to call soft launch.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #katie mccabe imagine #katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (pt 13)

Masterpost

Danny was holding Jason’s hand so tight he felt like his fingers were creaking but Jason wasn’t about to say anything. They were waiting in the doctor's office for Danny’s first ultrasound and Jason was accompanying him as promised, if Danny needed to squeeze his hand that was what Danny needed to do then so be it, it was better the bolting, which it looked like he was considering. Leslie didn’t usually make people wait long but when she had an emergency she had an emergency, it didn’t matter that Bruce funded her clinic, and was sitting awkwardly in one corner, they could wait.

It had been decided that as Danny’s guardian and maybe boyfriend? Bruce and Jason would be the ones to go in with him, with Danny’s agreement of course. Jazz and Dick had both wanted to come too but they didn’t want to crowd the room or overwhelm Danny so it was decided they would stay close by but not come In. Just then they were waiting together at a cafe across the road in case they were needed.

“Alright, I’m sorry to keep you both waiting but you know how Gotham is,” Leslie said a little grim-faced and still stripping off bloody gloves as she walked into their room and tossed them into the trash can. “So, Danny right,” Danny nodded. “Will you come with me into a private room for your examination?” She asked, because of course she did, the phrasing too was carefully worded to not put him on the spot so if Danny was feeling at all threatened or uncomfortable about Jason and Bruce being there he wouldn’t be blamed for following her. 

“You don’t have to,” She added quickly when Danny looked panicked and clung to Jason so tight Jason couldn’t help wincing. “We can move forward with the appointment if them being here makes you more comfortable?” 

Danny nodded quickly so she nodded as well and sat down at her desk, opening a file on her computer. “So, you’re here for an ultrasound right?” She glanced over and Danny nodded again, he seemed to be feeling really shy, Jason had never seen him so nervous, Bruce looked worried. “But it says here you haven’t had a check up in years so would you mind if we do a general exam first? I would like to make sure that You are healthy before we move on to the babies.”

“Yes that’s fine, but you know I’m not fully human right?” Danny asked, she paused for barely a moment. 

“I was told you had some differences,” she confirmed gingerly. “What should I expect?”

“Well, my heart rate is naturally slower than it used to be, and my body temperature is lower. Like I get to ‘healthy human’ temperatures when I have a bad fever. I don’t know what else has changed, honestly. I’ve been avoiding the doctor ever since my accident because I knew how my parents would react,” he said sounding tired and resigned.

“Well then we’ll take today as a paceline and monitor changes. If you’re feeling well today?” She suggested, she probably would have liked to get a baseline before Danny was pregnant but obviously that was impossible. 

“Ya that’s fine, my heartrate is probably a bit fast because I’m nervous but I’m probably healthier then I’ve been in a while. I haven’t been getting into fights and I’ve been eating regularly after all!”

“Alright. I understand but there’s no need to be nervous. This is a safe environment, I won’t do anything that’s not medically necessary.”

“I know, if Bruce and Jason didn’t speak so highly of you I wouldn’t be here. They don’t seem to see eye to eye on much so if they both trust and like you you must be good,” Danny said with a little smile though he was still tense and pale. That anxiety wasn’t going anywhere fast. In the corner Brace gave a sort of strangled cough that had Jason glaring at him even though he didn’t really know what it meant.

“Alright, then let’s get started,” She said before she started Danny’s check-up, all of the normal things a doctor would do if a bit more thorough. Checking eyes, mouth, ears, heart and lungs, and reflexes, circulation and blood pressure. His heartbeat was slow and his blood pressure was low but Danny thought that was probably normal for him? She gave an unconvinced hum. “We’ll have weekly check ups and check it again then. If it’s sustained and doesn’t affect you then we can say it’s normal for you.” She agreed. 

“Alright, well based on the information you’ve told me I think we’ve established a baseline and you’re healthy. Are you ready for your ultrasound?” She asked and Danny took a deep breath, Jason, still standing next to Danny, squeezed his hand gently.

“Ya, as ready as I’ll ever be,” Danny agreed. 

“Thank you, just lay back and pull up your shirt please,” Dr. Leslie requested and Danny did as she’d asked as she pulled up the little monitor and set things up. In the background Bruce shifted so he could see the screen better. “There won’t be much to see,” Leslie warned, shooting Bruce a look as she applied the ultrasound gel. “It’s still too early.”

She put on a fresh pair of gloves and grabbed the wand, “Alright, let's have a look.” She said, pressing it carefully against Danny’s stomach. 

Danny had let go of Jason’s hand while he lay down but now he grabbed around for Jason again, without looking away from the screen now showing inside his abdomen. Jason stepped closer and grabbed Danny’s hand, looking at his face rather than anything else, monitoring for signs the trepidation there might be getting to be too much. He knew Danny was nervous, but they didn’t want this to progress into a panic attack. 

“There they are. Oh! Two, twins. You’re further along than I expected, 10 weeks by the looks of it?” She asked glancing at Danny who nodded. 

“Ya, I’ve only been carrying them for 6 but they’re test tube babies,” he confirmed, his eyes fixed on the screen. 

“Ah,” She sounded, nodding her understanding. “The little round things below their hearts are odd. Do they have two hearts? No, those ones aren’t beating…”

“Those are their cores,” Danny murmured before it seemed to hit him and he looked at Jason, his eyes wide with panic. “Oh my god I AM actually pregnant, it’s not just the cores, I’m pregnant, oh my god I’m pregnant,” he was starting to hyperventilate. 

Dr. Leslie pulled back and Danny practically threw himself into Jason’s arm who held him tight as Danny hid against his chest and trembled. “Do you want us to call Jazz?” Jason offered softly as he held Danny and let him cry.

“No don’t go,” Danny hiccuped against Jason’s chest. 

“I’ll call Jazz,” Bruce added, of course. He would want to help, he did care, but he never had any actual idea how to help. The emotionally unavailable bastard. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Dr. Leslie asked gently. “I would like to have a better look at the twins to check on their development but if you need time I can come back later, or even another day.”

“Just-just give me a minute, please,” Danny sniffled as Jason rubbed his back.

“Of course. I know this is overwhelming,” Leslie said gently. 

Jazz barged into the room and immediately hugged Danny a well, sandwiched safely between her and Jason. “Scruff him, it’ll help,” she told Jason, who nodded and squeezed the back of Danny’s neck. 

He shuddered and then started to relax between the two of them, basically letting the two taller, and trusted, people hold him up. His sobs turned into sniffles and then a few deep breaths. “Okay, okay I think I’m ready. I want to know that they’re okay too. I know their cores are developing well but if they have human bodies, we need to make sure those are healthy too right?” 

“Right. Do you want me to stay, or do you want Bruce to come back in?” Jazz asked gently. 

“No, you and Jason stay please,” Danny said softly. He had thought it was right for Bruce to come in as his guardian, but it was Jazz who had really been looking after him for years. “There’s not much to see right now, just little blobs. We’ll tell him how it goes.”

Danny took another breath and then squirmed out of both of their arms and went to lay back on the table, pulling up his shirt again. Jason stood next to the examination table, taking Danny’s hand again, Jazz went and sat on the table by Danny’s head and stroked his hair while Dr. Leslie applied fresh jelly to his stomach since it had been worn off during his panic attack. Jason might have to change his shirt after this.

“Alright, let’s have another look shall we?” She said with a warm smile as she pressed the wand against his stomach again. She found the babies again fairly easily. “They seem to be sticking pretty close together,” She said with a little smile. “They’re active little things! It’s far too early to tell anything else about them but from what you’ve told me they seem to be on track and developing properly,” She said, pulling back and offering Danny a cloth to clean the gel off his stomach.

“Do you mind if we call Bruce back in? As your guardian I’d like him to be here for you treatment plan?” She asked.

“Sure, makes sense,” Danny agreed with a nod. 

She nodded back and looked at Jazz, who nodded as well and ducked out to get Bruce. “While we’re mostly alone I want to know, do you know all your options Danny? You know you don’t have to carry them. They’re just embryos right now, not even conscious. Your health and safety comes first,” Dr. Leslie told him gently. She knew Jason was firmly pro-choice.

“No, I know,” Danny said with a little smile and a nod, looking down at his stomach and gently caressing it. “I know I don’t Have to do this. But I do want them. I’m already attached to them, you know?” He said looking up at her, worried that she would judge him. He hoped he was making the right choice, that he wasn’t ruining his life at 16 or something. Fuck he could be on that trashy tv show! 

“I understand,” She assured, no hint of judgment on her face. Of course not, if she could treat rogues without judgment she sure as hell wasn’t going to judge a teen parent. She glanced up as the door opened again and Bruce and Jazz entered. “Right,” Leslie said, sitting down at her computer and starting to type. “You’re still a little malnourished so I’d like to get you taking prenatal vitamins immediately,” she said, glancing up to see Danny nod. “With your unique condition I’d like to see you more often than usual, weekly visits would be best for now. Once we’re sure you and the babies are okay we can go down to every other week.”

“I don’t think we need to do that,” Danny said, shifting nervously. “I mean you say the human side is looking good, and my ghost doctor says they’re developing well on that side, if slower than usual. I don’t need to come in every week,” He said looking hopeful. 

She hesitated for a moment, organizing her thoughts and considering his words. “Even so, there’s clearly some bleed over that makes it hard to tell how healthy you are. I would feel better if you came weekly, at least for the first month so we can establish a true baseline.” 

“Alright,” Danny said, drooping again, looking back at Bruce. “Can you make the appointment? I want to go home.”

“Sure Danny,” Bruce agreed, pulling out his planner to check their schedule. 

“I’ll take you back to the manor,” Jason assured, using his grip on Danny’s hand to help him up. 

“I’ll go back to the cafe with Dick, we were having a good conversation, I wouldn’t mind continuing it,” She said, giving Danny a smile. “Unless you want me to come?”

“No, that’s alright. Have fun Jazz,” Danny said, leaning against Jason and letting him usher Danny out of the clinic. Jazz waved as she crossed to the cafe where Dick was waiting, looking worried till he noticed them, then he smiled and waved. Jazz waved back and jogged across, about to tell Dick all about the twins no doubt. 

Jason led Danny to his bike, and got on first, pulling Danny onto the seat behind him. Danny wrapped his arms around Jason and pressed against his back, half hiding from the world. Jason didn’t try to talk to him, he needed time to process. He would talk when he was ready to.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #jason todd #fanfiction #trans!danny #trans pregnancy #teen pregnancy #dead on main #bruce wayne #jazz fenton #dick grayson #eldest daughter syndrome #that's what Dick and Jazz are called as a ship right? #finally getting help AU #Danny is pregnant #tw dysphoria

[sleepingdead96]

Ambassador Danny AU

Just a silly thing knocking around in my brain.

Batman halted in the door of the conference room, taking in the sight of a strange being lounging imperiously in his chair. His white hair seemed to defy gravity ever so gently and his green, glowing eyes—Jason’s eyes—stared back with none of the regard or fear so many people showed towards Batman. His tanned face was speckled with tiny stars that Batman had to actively resist becoming memorized by. The boy’s choice of covering was sheening armour that refracted the light through his chest-plate of black ice. The white sleet that sharpened his knuckles seemed perfectly capable of movement despite it encasing his hands in similar fashion to the chest-plate; glassy in it’s brutal edges and as hard as the sheets that form over the coldest of lakes. 

The watchtower had been invaded. Batman had questioned why the place was so cold when he’d arrived. Now he knew.

The only thing that kept Batman from immediately reacting might have—very much—had to do with how young he looked. A boy in the second half of his teens.

And the fact that several other Justice League members were at Batman’s back as he strolled further into the room, watching the boy warily.

The boy’s eyes were unconcerned as he watched the Justice League file in. Worryingly so. Who was he that he would be so unfazed, how powerful? Or was it faith he wouldn’t be harmed, taking advantage of the Justice League’s strong morals?

The teen had commandeered the chair with all the authority of a king and the confidence of one assured of their own position. He sprawled across it. The chairs were all identical of practical, unassuming make, but this boy made it look like his throne as he leaned heavily on one side and stretched one leg way on the other. A hand was extended to dangle off one chair-arm and he had a knee braced up, showing an armoured shin protecting his black, sturdy, cargo-like pants and iced boots that jagged treacherously upwards.

The boy smirked. “Took you long enough. I was getting bored.”

Batman resisted the urge to clamp his hands over his already protected ears from the unearthly static and screeching glaciers that came from the boy’s mouth. He noticed Superman flinch and his face grimace.

“Who are you?” Batman growled. This boy was obviously inhuman. He was also an unknown. Batman would be foolish to underestimate someone who had somehow infiltrated the watchtower without being seen or setting off any alerts. Who exuded too much confidence, as if the entire world was at his fingertips.

Attacking took the back-burner in favour of garnering information in such a concerning situation.

“You may address me as. . .” He contemplated a bit too much for Batman to believe whatever he would give them would be his true name. “Danny.”

“. . .Danny.” 

The name was so. . .normal.

“How did you get here?” Wonder Woman asked with hints of warning and aggression.

The boy smiled. He had fangs. Too many sharp teeth. He didn’t answer and was revelling in their ignorance.

“What are you doing here?” Superman asked. It said something about Danny’s energy that even superman was being cautious about approaching.

“Waiting for you.” He smirked.

“Why?” Batman pushed as much threat and intimidation into his stance and words as he could. He usually didn’t have to think about it. “What do you want?”

Danny chuckled and a shiver ran up Batman’s spine. Goosebumps formed even through the protective layers that shielded him from the cold.

“Why don’t you sit?” The words should have been innocent. They felt like a trap. “You’ve gathered for a meeting, haven’t you?” 

The league members didn’t move. Danny sighed.

“Fine, fine, fine.” He rolled his eyes and Batman was eerily reminded of how much the adolescent exasperation reminded him of his own children. Danny leaned off the chair arm to lean an elbow on the table instead, propping his chin up. He was all teeth. “The Infinite Realms wishes for peace. I’ve come to investigate the possibility of a treaty on behalf of the High King.”

<><><><>

“THERE’S A DENIZEN OF THE INFINITE REALMS IN THE WATCHTOWER??!!!”

Batman held the phone away from his face at Constantine’s uncharacteristic display of panic. It did not bode well and it settled uncomfortably in his bones.

He grunted in affirmation.

Constantine swore up and down enough to fill Alfred’s swear jar ten times over. “What do they want?! What did you say to them!? Ohhhh, bloody ****! You’ve already antagonized them haven’t you?!”

“No.” Batman ground out.

Constantine was quiet. Several seconds ticked by.

“. . .WELL?!”

“He claims the High King wants to negotiate for peace.”

There was silence on the other end. Batman usually preferred it when Constantine was quiet, but this was thick and seemed to claw out of the phone to infect the watchtower. It muffled the noises and beeps and drowned out the presence of the other league members who had stepped out of the conference room with him.

Then there was a great, controlled release of wavery air. When Constantine spoke, it was more serious than Batman ever remembered hearing him.

“Okay, okay.” Constantine mumbled to himself. “Listen closely, Bats, and repeat everything, and I mean everything, to your circus clowns.”

Superman cleared his throat. “We’re here.”

“YOU LEFT THE AMBASSADOR ALONE?!”

“Of course not! Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter are monitoring him.” Batman said. 

Constantine grumble-sighed. “Good.” He mumbled. “Two of the competent ones. I don’t trust Bats not to **** this up and get us all killed.”

“What now?” Flash said.

Batman was a little offended. “Constan—“

“NO!” He yelled vehemently. He sounded a little manic. “Batsy, you have the emotional intelligence of a wet paper bag, a sad, trampled, wet paper bag with so many holes that it can’t even be considered a bag anymore, you have the emotional intelligence of wet, paper scraps and the diplomacy of a feral hyena! Unless he addresses you first, Do. Not. Initiate! Do not open your mouth! I have no faith in you whatsoever!”

“I will n—“ Batman tried to growl again, but Constantine cut him off. Again!

“No!” Constantine reiterated oh, so eloquently. “Look.” He sighed. “Getting news of the newest High King since he defeated the last one has been near impossible. All Deadman will tell me is that he’s better than the last guy and we are incredibly lucky our entire dimension wasn’t wiped out after that stunt the American government pulled with the Anti-ecto Acts.”

Batman saw some of the leaguers pale. He suddenly wasn’t feeling the best either.

“Anti-Ecto Acts?”

“Laws declaring their species non-sentient and illegal, I dealt with it, thing is, this is an extremely delicate situation.” He stressed. “We don’t know what kind of ruler he is, what little thing might set him off, and we cannot afford to set the High King off! Capiche?! It’s a good sign that he’s willing to negotiate peace, but he could change his mind. Some ghosts are very temperamental.”

“Ghosts.” Several of the leaguers repeated. Constantine let out an incredibly exasperated sound.

“Do you idiots know nothing?! Yes, ghosts! The Infinite Realms is the dimension between dimensions, the land of the dead and the never-born! They are incredibly powerful entities and many of them could level our planet easily! Whatever you do, DO NOT ask how they’ve died! It is highly taboo and you’ll get yourselves killed!” Constantine let out a stressed groan.

“I would come back and deal with this myself, but I am. . .occupied at the moment. Don’t try to negotiate without me! You lot will muck everything up! And seriously, DO NOT ASK HOW THEY’VE DIED! Keep the Ambassador happy until I can get there, convince him to stay! We might not have another chance like this, don’t annoy them, do not ignore them, and, just in general, don’t give the ambassador any reason to deliver anything negative to King Phantom and have him erase us all, got it?”

The Justice League exchanged several, stunned looks.

“Got it?”

Batman grunted.

“Good. And Bats.” Constantine added lowly. “If this fails, I am blaming you for the end of the world.”

Constantine ended the call and the phone beeped before drowning everyone in silence. The leaguers shared more looks.

“Now what?” Hal said.

#dpxdc fanfic #danny phantom #justice league #john constantine #Danny Fenton is trolling

[beary-rambles]

Distractions

Summary: Despite how close the two of you are you're sick of waiting around for Jace no matter how much you like him, so you decide you’re going out on a date! but he doesn't like that.

r.q: childhood friends to lovers with modern frat boy Jace and he's like rlly popular and known to go from girl to girl. reader is like really smart and different from Jace so people get surprised when they find out you two are really close. Jace is always dragging you to parties and you’re always at his football games and he gets really protective over you. idek where im going with this 😭 but w smut too, your fics are acc amazing ty for your work 🙏

w.c: 2.5k

c.w: reader has hair (unspecified type, could be a wig wtv), Jace's anger issues, idk what locker rooms look like, cregan <3, fingering (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), not proofread (as always)

a.n: I CANT STOP WRITING FOR JACE every request of him i get becomes my priority, literally when i woke up and saw this i had to get to writing it immediately like there’s smth wrong w me, anyways hope you all enjoy <3, this ones probably not my best T_T

requests are open - masterlist

Knocking on the door cuts through the music playing out of your speaker while your getting ready. “Come in.” you already know who it is. Your longtime best friend and housemate Jace who comes in with a smile on his face before it turns to shock as he looks you up and down, “woah.”

You finish clamping your necklace around your neck and look at him, “what do you want?” He leans against the door with his arms crossed with an amused look. you ignore how your heart flutters at him and turn away to adjust the dress you currently had on. “i just wanted to tell you im about to head out for the game, its a little odd to get all dressed up for a football game no?” The looks falls from his face as you drop your gaze from his in the mirror and fiddle around with your hair. he says your name breathlessly as he pushes away from the frame and takes a step into the room. You finally lift your head and meet his gaze in the mirror. “I'm not going to the game tonight Jace.”

He flinches as if you had thrown something at him and stutters for a moment his face covered in pure confusion as he brings one of his hands to his neck. “what do you mean you're not coming? you always come! if this is about me eating your leftovers then im sorry i thought you left it for me-” “i have a date.”

There it is. You didn't want to tell him. Hes always been, well a little protective of you, but you mostly blame it on your introverted personality while he's more of a people person. Youve had a crush on him for as long as you can remember but he's never been interested in you not the way you wanted him to be anyways, barely staying single or without a girl on his arm for a second you don't even know the girls names or maybe that's the point. He doesn't bring them around you but you know he's with them when he returns home super late with his hair all messed up. You fear he does it on purpose, he must know you like him and he doesn't bring them around you to make you upset.

You really didn’t want to tell him. You had thought maybe he would have just left for the pregame and just shot you a text and you could have faked some sickness or have pretended to go to sleep early. You walk over to your bed sit down grabbing your shoes to put them on. His silence is off putting. and you don’t dare raise your head to look at him.

“with who?” “This guy from lab, mark.” you finish lacing your shoes and stand up, finally looking at him and noticing the blank look on his face. “Jace-” “I don’t like this. i mean i don’t even know the guy how do we know he’s not some serial killer or something? Mark? Why don’t you just push it off for a couple days, come to the game and ill find out if he’d a good guy-” “I'm going whether you like it or not.” you cut him off. You couldn’t let him stop you from forgetting about him even if it was just for a bit. You grab your purse moving to push past him only for him to grab your arm. “Jace-” “You look beautiful.” The skin where he was holding you burns. You don't say anything as he lets you go and keeps his back turned to you. “text me?”

You try to ignore the pit that forms in your stomach at his sudden change of tone. you want to say something to him, you’re not used to seeing him like this. he would usually be pestering you about how you he asked you out or did you really like him but he was quiet. The sound of a horn outside brings you back to reality and you nod at his back as if he could see you and walk out. Putting on a fake smile as your handed a nice bouquet of flowers from mark, gulping to try and swallow the pit in your stomach.

—

“who the hell does this guy think he is?” His fist slams into the wall of lockers he's pacing in front of. All his gear is put on, his helmet is laying on the bench next to cregan who can only watch his best friend act like an idiot with an annoyed face. “Who the hell are you to care? Her boyfriend? No. So you have no say in it.” Jace bites his nails as he ignores the urge to hit the wall once more. “she’s my best friend.” “and? shouldn’t you be happy she’s on a date with this guy. i like mark he’s nice. what you like her or something?”

Jace ignores how is blood boils at the idea of you now sitting in your pretty dress smiling and giggling at some other guy that's not him. that doesn’t mean he likes you…. Jace attempts to come up with an excuse in his head about why he's so upset and why he's always been so upset over you going out with other guys, he usually just tells himself he's all worried about you and then he finds some girl to take you off his mind for the night…. that doesn't mean he likes you.

Cregan watches with a raised brow as Jace has an internal conflict with himself. He expected Jace to turn to him and admit it but all he does is grumble to himself and grab his helmet walking away from him. “I don't like her.” Cregan just shakes his head and picks up his own helmet following after him, “that fucking idiot.”

—

Mark is nice. Hes cute. He told you you could order anything you wanted off the menu since he was paying. He pays attention to you when you talk. Hes not Jace. You try your best to not think about him but you can’t help it. You wonder how the game is going, you’ve never missed one of his games. Maybe you pushed it too far and should have scheduled this date for a different day, but you know if you did Jace would have managed to convince you not to go and you would have fallen into the same cycle you always do. You nod your head and hum as mark tells you some story as you phone begins to buzz. You ignore it but it just keeps on buzzing to the point even mark looks concerned. “You can check it i don’t mind, ill use the restroom.”

You let out a hushed thank you as you check you phone to see what looked like a million texts from cregan.

‘hey i know the two of you are like fighting or wtv but you gotta see him asap.’

‘never seen him lose his mind like that’

‘got himself hurt’

‘nothing too bad but he’s bleeding’

‘know he thinks it cost us the game’

‘now he wont talk to any of us not even me’

‘think his head wasn’t in it’

‘know it’s not my place but he likes you so much’

‘losing his fucking mind over you not being here and being on some date’

‘please, for his sake at least try to talk to him, know you’re busy sorry to bother but I'm worried for him’

You stand out of your seat in shock as your heart begins to race. He was hurt? He likes you? Mark hadn’t come back yet so you open your purse and throw down some bills before running out of the restaurant. You sprint your way back to campus where the field was, thankfully living in a college town meant everything being super close by, you cant hear anything other than your own racing heart and the sounds of your feet as they slam on the floor.

You slam the hallway door open and cregan and some other guys look at you in shock. You stand there and take some steps towards cregan barely being able to catch your breath. Cregan stands up and looks at you shocked, “You ran here?” You just nod as you look at him expectantly, “where is he?” He uses his thumb to point behind him to the locker room doors, “Completely alone, everyone's already left.” You nod as the guys wish you good luck and leave.

You just stare at the doors for a moment, clarity finally hitting you as you realize how ridiculous it was you just left your date and ran all the way here. You couldn't just ignore cregans message. Pushing open the door its dead quiet other than the sound of running water. You walk slowly into the room the door closing behind you louder than you expected causing you to wince before you call out his name. He doesn't answer so you walk around the wall to where the showers were and you can see him outlined in the curtain and almost gasp but you cover your mouth to prevent anything from coming out.

“Jace?” His head finally snaps up due to your voice being so close and he looks in your direction, calling out your name softly in question. “I’m here.” “What are you doing here?” He turns off the shower and you turn your back incase he stepped out of the shower. You attempt to suppress the heat and want that fills your body as you imagine him naked before shaking your head, “Cregan texted, i was worried about you.” He just hums. You wish you could see his face but you hear the curtain open and the sound of him stepping out. “What about your date?”

You freeze as you clutch your purse tighter in your hands as you let out a deep breath. “What about it?” Hes suddenly standing so close to you you can feel his breath tickling your back and you gulp. “You’re here and not there, why?” One of his hands slides down your arm to grab your clenched hand as his forehead hits your shoulder, he's takes a deep breath as he awaits your answer. “Does it matter?” You don't want him to ask because you don't want to have to answer him. you don't want to have to admit to yourself you just wanted to be with him and nobody else.

“You wanna know why it matters? Because i was so fucking mad that you weren’t here i threw the fucking game and hit my head. because nobody makes me lose my mind like you do. Needed you here and you weren’t. You were out with some stupid fucking guy and i was so pissed.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder and you try to suppress the whimper that climbs its way up to your throat. “What are you saying Jace?”

His hands move to wrap around your waist and his head moves to your neck, You can feel his wet naked chest soaking the back of your dress and the heat of his breath on your neck “You know what, That i would go find a new girl to fuck because i couldn’t have you, that i think about you all the time because i like you so much, that it makes me sick when i think about you with a guy that's not me.” He begins to suck at your neck and you now do nothing to hold back the moan you let out as his grip moves to your hips pulling you back against him closer. “You mean it?” His hands slide down to the hem of your dress and he slides his hands under it and upwards pulling your dress up to poll around your hips, “of course i do baby, can i touch you?”

You let out a strained please and he pushes your underwear aside to run a finger down your slit letting out a groan, “fuck..” He quickly sticks two fingers into you and you fall back against him, withering under his touch as he moves at a rough pace, clearly very eager to please you and his other hand comes down from your hips to play with your clit. Your knees almost buckle from the amount of pleasure but he keeps you pressed tightly against him curling his fingers.

You swear he has magic powers because as you were right about to cum he pulls out of you and you whimper. He chuckles at your reaction and twists you around to face him, “want you to come around me.” He pulls you into a heated kiss as you two frantically pull off your dress, kicking it to some random corner of the locker room along with your underwear. “I don't have a condom.” You hear him swear and mumble to himself but you cup his cheeks to stop him, “I'm on the pill.” “It’s not the same-” “what are you not clean?” “of course i am-” “Then fuck me Jace.” He looks in your eyes for any signs of hesitation and when he doesn't find any he quickly pushes himself into you.

You feel like you can’t breathe, he pushes you against a nearby wall and feverishly pounds into you as his hands move to play with your tits. Hes talking but you can’t decipher what he’s saying so lost in your own pleasure. “fuck you feel so good fuck.” You tug on his hair and pull him to kiss you, your on the brink of release as the feeling of his thumbs rubbing on your nipples and the combination of the millions of emotions racing around you. You grip on his hair tightly and he groans, “You close?” You nod you head, “Wait for me.” You open your mouth to complain but his hips begin to move faster and his hands move to your hips to slam you closer to match his thrusts. “Want to come together.” His words are slurred as he’s approaching his release. Your hands scratch down his back as he groans in your ear, taking your ear and sucking on it.

“Come.” He breaths in your ear and you do, he hisses as he feels you pulse against him, your fluid completely covering him and he cant help but follow suit. He kisses you running his hands down your arms. As the two of you settle down he makes no move to pull out of you, seeming content within you.

“I'm gonna get a fucking earful from cregan.”

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys strong #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #jace x you #jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jace x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house targaryen #jacaerys #modern hotd #modern jace #modern jacaerys

[liz-crazywrld]

Put in your place

(Pretend you come from Earth 2.O)

Geidi Prime is a dark planet, polluted with black smog and a black sun, with the purest milkiest of moons, they have two.

I put on a long beautiful dark blue tight fitting dress, with jewels coving it entirely. I made sure I looked my best. I was expecting to have my dinner with him tonight but he didn’t show up, so I ended up eating alone, the loneliness was eating at my soul so I just left without finishing.

I came back to my room and stood by the balcony, I had my head rested in my hands as I stared at the moons. I’ve always imagined a fairytale marriage, a romantic dinner, a heartfelt proposal and a loving romantic relationship where my husband will care and protect me no matter what.

I was in a complete world of my own, you see I’m an optimist so I’ve been imagining my life on either Geidi Prime or Arrakis to the best of my abilities. I felt a breeze and a hand on my shoulder, so I did the most rational thing. It could’ve been anyone trying to touch me with any agenda so I jumped with a small scream and punched them in the face.

“Oh my, my Lord, Feyd Rautha, I am so sorry, please forgive me” I cried nearly bursting into laughter.

I made his nose bleed and he was holding it as blood flowed down. He had a very surprised expression on his face, he looked up at me, I had my hand over my mouth in shock, and he started laughing, so did I.

“Please Princess, it’s not a problem, but I just admit you throw a strong punch,” He laughed.

“I must admit no one has ever drawn blood from me before”

“Thank you my Lord, seems I throw them to the wrong people.” My confused expression left and I looked sad apparently.

“I am very sorry I did not join you for dinner, I didn’t imagine you’d want to see me eating raw meats” he says leaning against the balcony facing you.

“No my Lord, eat whatever you desire, it will not affect how I perceive you.” I said walking to stand next to him.

He smells gorgeous and looks so clean in his all black outfit, his trousers and a long neat black shirt. It really suited him.

“I appreciate that Princess, I will eat with you tomorrow night if you would like”

“I would love to eat with you” I say staring deep into his eyes, they are so beautiful especially when they aren’t full of rage. When his eyes are calm they look phenomenal. He just smiled, he didn’t say anymore after that.

I walked back inside the room, he followed behind me like a puppy. I sat on the edge of my bed, he waited for me, you see, I don’t have to use the voice on him, he’ll simply just do as I say.

“Kneel” of cause he did as he was told. He knelt infront of me, I stroked his face.

“Are you using the voice on me Princess?”

“No” quick and short, I don’t want to talk about foolishness.

I caressed his face, holding it, every time he thought he was getting a kiss but no, I’m not that easy, his right hand was placed on my knee, he rubbed my thighs up and down.

“Me and you Feyd are going to have so much fun when we are married” I said placing a soft kiss on his lips, he closed his eyes and kissed me back but I was done.

“Now don’t you ever disrespect me like that again, you left me all alone during dinner, do it again and see what happened my love” I whispered into his ear

“Yes, yes My Queen, I will never disrespect you ever again” he looked up at me like a pet, giving me his soft puppy eyes

“Now my love, get out. I need my beauty sleep” then before I could blink he was gone…

A/n- thank you for reading xx

#austin butler #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x y/n #house harkonnen #feyd x y/n #feyd rautha x you #feyd x you #feyd fanfiction #feyd x reader #feyd oneshot #austin butler x you #austin butler x reader

[hotluncheddie]

Day 5: Possessive Steve

"Rockstar"

wc: 1.7k | rated: E | tags: Sub Eddie Munson, established relationship, blowjobs, mention of exhibitionism

written for @subeddieweek <3

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Eddie always gets like this after a show - flighty and restless, unable to sit down. Even after a good fucking show like they had tonight. A good fucking metal fucking show. 

He just can’t ever seem to wind down, to stop, to think. 

He tried to fix it with whisky, but that didn’t go well. Not for anyone. He tried weed too and that works, sometimes, if he gets the timings right it can help him sleep. But mostly he just paces, while he waits. waits for the one thing he knows will help. Help him out of his head. Help him relax enough to go eat with the band, get some sleep tonight. Ready to start it all over again tomorrow. 

‘Hey rockstar.’ 

Steve. 

Steve smiles at Eddie’s from where he leans against the open doorway, arms crossed. He looks perfect like always; neat and put together and sinful in one of Eddie’s old merch designs. 

He strides over, pulling Steve in and closing the door, locking it and grabbing Steve’s hand, stepping in for a kiss and just as quickly stepping out again, pulling him further into the room. 

Eddie doesn’t realise he’s asking questions too close together, hands flailing, not leaving any breath for an answer. ‘Do you want a drink? Food? How was the show? Was your seat okay? Are you tired?’ Until Steve squeezes his hand and steps in real close, ghosting his mouth over Eddie’s. 

‘No, no, really fucking good, yes and no stop worrying.’ Steve mumbles, stopping Eddie in his tracks, arms limp at his sides. Steve tugging them closer by Eddies belt loops. 

Steve’s voice is low, soothing, playful. ‘My seat was perfect, I could see you so well. And….’ Steve leans in, hot breath against Eddie’s ear. ‘There was a couple in front of me tonight, wanna know what they were talking about?’

Eddie shivers, Steve stepping them back once, twice, Eddie’s back hitting the wall. Steve’s fingers digging into his waist. He waits for Eddie, eyeing him. ‘Please’ Eddie whispers eventually, mind finally catching up, body ready for what might be about to come. 

Steve smirks, dipping in close again. ‘The girl said she wanted you as her hall pass baby, and her boyfriend said okay. Said he understood.’ Steve whispers, shoving his thigh between Eddie’s. ‘My little slut. Showing off for the crowd all night. You love it don’t you?’ Steve kisses down Eddies neck. ‘I bet a whole stadium of people would pay just to watch you, just to see you like this. You’d like that wouldn’t you?’ 

Eddie chokes on his spit, writhing under Steve’s hold. His cock rapidly hardening. ‘Fuck. Steve.’

‘You’re going to give me what all those fans out there were wishing for.’ Steve’s hard length is pressed against Eddie’s hip, grinding. ‘But it’s all mine isn’t it.’

‘Yeah, yeah Steve, yeah.’ Eddie’s feels on fire, head rapidly loosing space for any thoughts that aren’t Steve and the feeling of their bodies pressed flush together. 

Steve laces their fingers and lifts them so Eddie’s hands are either side of his head. ‘Think you can keep these still for me?’ He asks and Eddie nods, he does, he can. 

‘Good, don’t wanna mess up my hair.’ Steve winks and sinks to his knees. 

The clack of his belt being undone makes Eddie blink slow and breathe deep through his nose. ‘You want me to stop just move your hands okay? But if you want to be good then keep them still.’ Steve explains as he palms eddies cock through his boxers. 

Eddie’s eyes widen, he can’t look away, can never look away from Steve when he’s like this, in control and touching. Teasing and tasting and sending Eddie insane. 

Steve slides his mouth all the way down, Eddie buried all the way in his throat. Steve breaths deep through his nose, nuzzles into Eddie’s pubes - said he likes it, having Eddie inside him like this, powerful. 

Eddie balls his fists and wills his hips not to move, sweat beading at his temples. Eddie likes Steve like this too, feels powerless. 

Steve swallows and Eddie whines, throat tired from the stage but he can’t help it when Steve is doing this, can’t help anything when he’s around Steve. 

Steve pulls off and keeps working Eddie with his hand. Lips pink and glossy with spit. Eddie groans. 

‘Feeling good baby?’ Steve asks, smiling up at him, watching Eddie fall apart. 

He nods, arms aching from holding them up, but the ache adds to his high, helps him feel grounded and under Steve’s thumb. 

Steve kissed his tip and tugs his leather pants down further, fingers dancing over his balls and towards his hole. Petting at it and pressing into Eddie’s taint, making him see stars. 

‘Steve.’ Eddie whimpers, thighs shaking and tip pearling, starting to leak. 

‘What?’ Steve asks, innocent. ‘You said it was mine didn’t you?’ He pouts and Eddie wants to thrash, wants to scream but he doesn’t want Steve to ever stop touching him, playing with him. 

‘S’yours. S’yours, always.’ Eddie pants, eyes squeezing shut, leaning heavily on the wall to keep from keeling over. 

Steve pushes his thumb roughly into Eddie’s slit, gathering the cum to slide it over his cock. Eddie’s eyes fly open. ‘Good. Eyes on me baby.’ Steve coos. ‘Now I want you to imagine all those fans are seeing you like this, who think big tough rockstar Eddie Munson could dick them down so well, I want you to show them what you really are okay baby?’ Eddie nods, frantic, not daring to move his eyes from Steve’s face, his hands. ‘Show them what a little slut you are for me, my own little play thing, can you do that baby? Cum down my throat the way all those fans would’ve killed for tonight?’ 

Eddie moans, tensing as Steve’s mouth envelops him again, hot and wet and tight. Bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks the way he knows Eddie loves. That sends him close, and reeling. 

And he does like it. Likes having all those eyes on him, the attention and praise. Even if they don’t really know him, just think he’s hot. that’s enough. It’s why he chooses pants cut extra tight, why he slices the ends off all his t-shirts, why he lets his mascara run and never wipes the sweat from his neck. He wants the crowd to want him, look at him and hunger for him. Even though they’ll never really know him. It’s okay. 

He has Steve, and Steve knows everything. 

Steve’s fingers move again, teasing and pressing at Eddie’s taint, at the bundle of nerves inside him. 

Eddie can’t help but move now, edging closer and closer. He thrusts forwards and rolls his hips, sinking deeper, filthy. Moves the way he does sometimes on stage, when he wants every pair of eyes on him, wants Steve’s eyes on him. Wants to be Steve’s own special rockstar, porn star. Steve’s anything. 

‘Oh god.’ Eddie moans, pushing in deeper and Steve holds him there, hand on his ass, other hand still knuckling his taint. Everything impossibly warm, impossibly close. Held together by this man on his knees. Eddie bucks once as much as he can, mind flashing with the movements of the night, Steves words, the lights and noise of the crowd. 

Steve squeezes and pushes and swallows and Eddie looses himself in everything. Spurting thick and hot down Steve’s throat. Chest heaving and eyes clumping with tears. 

‘’Tevie’ He whimpers, as Steve pulls away and surges up, ripping open the fly of his jeans and latching on to Eddie’s neck. Taking Eddies stiffened arms and fingers into his own. Wrapping them around his waist and holding Eddie close. 

He licks over a spot and bites, hard. No doubt it’ll be a bruise by morning, front and centre for anyone to see. 

‘Ah ah’ Eddie pants as Steve dips lower and bites again, littering his neck with blooms of red. Eddie feels how Steves fisting his own cock, bumping against Eddie’s abdomen, hot breath over his neck. 

Steve licks a long stripe from his collarbone to the hinge of Eddie’s jaw, sealing the marks and leaving a hot, wet, open mouthed kiss on Eddie’s lips. 

‘Wear your hair up tomorrow, want everyone to see.’ Steve pants, close. ‘Promise me.’ Se’s so close, the wet end of his tip slicking Eddie’s happy trail, his own cock giving a twitch. 

Eddie kisses Steve back, licks into his mouth and sucks on his tongue. Eddie eyes roll at Steve’s groan. ‘Anything, anything. promise.’ He whines, wants everyone to see, wants people to know. 

Eddie rubs his nose agains Steve’s cheek, still feeling stretched thin and fragile from his orgasm. Steves hot breath on his face. ‘Belong to you.’ He mumbles, voice high and breathy and achingly soft. But this is who he is, who he wants to be. 

Steve buried his hand in Eddie’s hair, tensing and pushing him into the wall, releasing all over Eddie’s hip and pubes. Steve pants for a moment, Eddie sinking into the warm pressure, mouthing at Steve’s cheek and squeezing Steve’s waist. Keeping them close. 

Eddie sniffs, burying himself in Steve’s neck, nuzzling and smelling him, kissing over Steve’s tanned skin. Always so pretty, so perfect. His Steve. 

‘Hey rockstar, you okay?’ Steve asks, pulling Eddie’s head out and ghosting his lips over Eddie’s fluttering eyelids. Kissing his flush cheeks and sweaty forehead. 

Eddie hums, a little loopy, still off in space. But Steve just keeps kissing him, smiling through it, nipping at Eddie’s dimples. ‘’M so proud of you Ed’s, the show was so good tonight.’ Steve mumbles, then sucks lightly on Eddie’s bottom lip. 

Eddie lens into in, kissing Steve back, he feels happy and settled and like his bones are all back in the right place, all the staticky anxiety gone from his brain. ‘You mean the show out there or the one in here?’ He asks, grin forming, still not opening his eyes. 

Steve pinches him on the hip and Eddie yelps, giggling. Steve kisses him once more, murmuring a fond little ‘brat’ before stepping away to get tissues, tucking himself back in his jeans. 

‘Come on.’ Steve claps, once Eddie’s clean and his pants are re-buttoned, ‘I want dinner.’ He says, walking Eddie out of the door, plastered against his back. 

Eddie goes willingly, ready for food with the band, to have a couple drinks, enjoy Steve’s hand on his thigh. Then, sleep. 

And then he’ll do it all again tomorrow. 

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Tag List: @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor @marvel-ous-m

#fun fact this one was finished first #eddie just really likes being Steve’s #and showing off :) #hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #sub eddie week #subeddieweek #sub eddie munson #<3 #my fic

[neo404]

im so obsessed w sub!nick and enemies to lovers rn pls work your magic 🙏

Stupid and Idiot.

Summary: Nick decides to bother you at a party so you decide to shut him up :3

Tw: reader drinks a bit, NSFW. Degradation? Oral sex, eating out, belt used as collar. (idk, I went kinda crazy).

The music is loud on my hears, people dancing around me as I walk to the kitchen to get another drink. The kitchen was surprisingly empty, most people were dancing on the living room or making out on random bedrooms. I open the fridge and take out a bottle with vodka and some orange juice, when I turn around and place them on the kitchen counter, I see Nick standing on the door frame smiling at me, I roll my eyes, that guy can’t leave me alone.

‘’Great, the idiot is here. Do you like me that much you came running here just to see me?’’ I say while starting to make my drink.

‘’Don’t be so full of yourself, in your dreams I come running to you.’’ He walks slowly towards me.

‘’In my dreams you don’t exist.’’ I take a sip of the drink and it burns my throat; I pour a bit more vodka on it.

‘’Sure, I bet you dream about me every night.’’

‘’Yeah, you are the creepy guy of my nightmares, the one that never leaves me the fuck alone so I punch in the face.’’ I smile at him. ‘’How about that? would you like to make my nightmares true?’’ this time he is the one he rolls his eyes at me; I finish the glass in one go to get out of the kitchen as fast as I can.

‘’You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.’’ Nick laughs and starts walking outside of the kitchen but I grab him by the shirt and push him into the wall, his chest and face against the tiles, my chest against his back.

‘’You would like that, won’t you? You filthy bitch. You just love railing me up.’’ A soft moan is muffled by his lips, I can feel him shaking against me and I smile against his ear. ‘’That’s why you are so fucking annoying? You just wanted to get fucked?’’

‘’S-Shut up.’’ He moans out, his hips backing up to meet mine, drawing tiny circles against my bulge.

‘’God, you are so pathetic.’’ I bite his neck playfully. ‘’Laundry room. Now.’’ I turn around walking to the door close to the fridge, I feel Nicks hands on my lower back, pushing me inside the room. I hear the door closing and locking behind me. I turn around and lean into the washing machine, crossing my arms over my chest and spreading my legs a bit. Nick is locking at the door and taking deep breaths. ‘’What? Not so brave now. Is the idiot to shy to talk?’’

‘’I’m not an idiot, you stupid fuck.’’ He turns around, his cheeks are red and he is clearly hard. I smile and tilt my head. ‘’Stop smiling! God, you are so fucking stupid.’’ He takes a step; he is standing right in front of me. ‘’I hate you, you are entitled, egocentric, arrogant and narcissistic.’’ I raise an eyebrow.

‘’You done, sweety?’’ Nick doesn’t say anything, he just looks away from me and crosses his arms. ‘’I’ll take that as a yes, then.’’ I grab him by the hips, turn him around and press him against the washing machine. His hands grab my shoulders, his eyes are wide and I feel him punch my shoulder not too hard. ‘’I don’t like brats. I prefer them more submissive and willing, but I think it will be fun to convert you, don’t you think so?’’ I whisper against his ear, my voice lower on purpose. My hands slowly pushing his shit up a bit.

‘’See, egocentric as fuck.’’ He murmurs and I laugh. I press my lips against his, my knee pressing against his bulge, his hands wrapping around my neck and playing with my hair. One of my hands slide down his shirt and up to his chest, a soft pant escaping his lips, my fingers playing with his nipple, his hips rolling and humping against mine. ‘’Fuck you.’’ He moans when I squeeze his nipple.

‘’I will, darling. Don’t worry.’’ I undo his belt, taking it out and putting it around his neck.

‘’W-what are you doing?’’ he grabs my hands softly.

‘’Don’t tell me nobody has done this to you?’’ he doesn’t answer. ‘’Oh, I’m sorry baby. they haven’t been fucking you good enough. You will love this; I just know it.’’ I buckle the belt around his neck, with enough room for m to fit three fingers between the leather and his skin. ‘’See, now I can move you around however I want to.’’

‘’Entitled idiot.’’ He mumbles and pulls me into a kiss, it’s sloppy and rough. He bites my lips and I bite back, our hips rubbing against each other. One of my hands slides down his pants, rubbing at his clothed cock.

‘’Want me to fuck you? Tell me, tell me how bad you want it.’’ I growl and he shakes his head.

‘’No, fuck off.’’ I smile and squeeze him before backing off. My back touches the wall and I pull the belt making him trip against me.

‘’On your knees.’’ I push him down and he kneels in front of me. ‘’Go on, if you suck me good enough, I might consider fucking you.’’ He frowns at me but undoes my pants and takes out my dick, his mouth opens and takes all of it, his head moving up and down rapidly. ‘’Fuck, you are such a whore.’’ My hand pulls on the belt a bit making him gag, his saliva running down his chin, muffled moans dying on his throat. ‘’God, you love this, don’t you? Bratty bitch.’’ His tongue moves around my length with experience, his blue eyes looking up at me in the dark room, I let out a pant and grab him by the hair, his hands move up from the floor to my thighs, form my thighs to my stomach, massaging up and down. I start moving his head up and down, feeling myself getting closer I pull his head away and his tongue hangs out. ‘’Not yet, get up.’’ He whines but gets up. ‘’Turn around.’’ He turns around and I push him against the washing machine, his back against my chest, both of my arms caging him in. ‘’See? Not so hard to be obedient.’’

I push him gently into the cold metal, bending him, his back arching. I pull down his jeans and boxers, his bare skin touching the cold metal, he lets out whimpers and soft moans, his whole-body shivering. ‘’Fuck me already.’’ He demands.

‘’Baby, you had it in your mouth, you know it won’t be that easy.’’ I massage his hips softly, taking in the sight. I kneel down, kissing softly at his thighs, I feel him squirming, I bite here and there leaving red marks all over him. I kiss his entrance and leave tiny licks all over it, he moans loudly when I finally push my tongue in, his hips sticking out and moving against my face while I eat him out, his moans get louder and louder, I leave one last kiss on his cheek before standing up again.

‘’Wha-Why did you stop?’’ he whines and I roll my eyes, so needy.

‘’Shut up, suck my fingers if you wanna be fucked.’’ I shove two of my fingers on his mouth and he doesn’t complain, his tongue starts moving around them, getting them wet really was, after a few more lips I pull them out. My hand travels down to his already wet hole, the two of my fingers slide in easily, I pump them in and out as fast as I can, his back arching, loud whines and moans leave his mouth pleading for more. His hands grabbing my shirt and pulling at it, I grab his arms and hold them behind his back with my other hand.

‘’Faster! Please.’’ I laugh, curling my fingers a bit hitting the right spot, a breathy moan scape his lips. ‘’Fuck! Right there, please, more.’’ His legs are trembling and his hips are buckling back at my hand.

‘’You gonna cum?’’ he moans in response. ‘’Yeah? Ask nicely.’’

‘’Please, I’m close, please, please!’’

I lean in so my mouth is against his ear. ‘’Good fucking boy.’’ He lets out a loud moan, his hips trembling more, I stick my fingers out and spank his ass. ‘’God, I didn’t even touch your dick. So filthy.’’ His ass is wiggling, backing up against me. I stand up, letting go of his arms. ‘’Want more, sweety?’’ he moans softly. ‘’Words whore. Words.’’

‘’Yes, yes. Please, want you inside.’’ He rubs himself against my hard dick, moaning softly. I spank him again.

‘’Don’t move then.’’ He stops moving, I grab my cock and pump it softly, pre cum falling into his hole, I slap my dick against his ass and slide it. ‘’That’s it. Good slut, arch your back, come on.’’ He raises his hips a bit, his back arching prettily. I reach out and grab the belt, my hips moving slowly against his, I roll my hips and trust slowly, his whimpers loud and his body sensitive.

‘’More! faster, please, please.’’ I tug the belt a bit, moving my hips faster and deeper, knocking the wind off his lungs, he is panting and drooling all over. The washing machine smashing rhythmically against the wall.

‘’That’s it babyboy, moan as loud as you want, no one will hear you.’’ I grunt, his hips moving on circles, buckling against mine, practically fucking himself on my dick. Our moans are loud, his legs shaky, the room is filled with the wet noises and the slams of our bodies, the music entering from the cracks of the door. I feel him twitching around me. ‘’Not yet, hold it in for me. Hold it.’’ He whines and I slap his ass. ‘’Good boy.’’ I move my hips a bit slower, but deeper. ‘’Were do you want it, baby?’’

‘’Inside, want it inside. Please, I need it.’’

‘’Good whore.’’ I lean in, my face against his ear, grunting and whispering at his ear. ‘’Cum for me, cum again.’’

‘’Fuck, fuck, fuck!’’ Nicks face goes down against the cold metal, his legs trembling. He is whinnying because my hips haven’t stopped moving. My grip at his hips tightens and with a few trusts more I feel myself go inside of him, as I slowly pull out, I can see white drops come out of both of us.

‘’Shit.’’ I chuckle. ‘’God, all I had to do to shut you up was this. You should have told me sooner.’’

‘’Fuck off.’’ He pants, holding himself up with his elbows.

‘’You okay there, brat? Want me to clean you up?’’ I coo near his ear, my hands rubbing his lover back and hips. ‘’Just so you know, good boys get to be cleaned up by my tongue.’’ I kiss his cheek and I feel the warmth of his blushed skin against my lips.

--------------

I almost died 5 times while writing this.

#sturniolo triplets x reader #nick sturniolo x male reader #nick sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo smut

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 11

Summary: Returning to the Mountain brings up a lot of feelings and Reader tries and fails to keep them all bottled up.

Content Warnings: SMUT (I told you it would come eventually ;) ), a lot of dirty talk, suggestiveness, a little light bondage if you squint, as well as alcohol consumption and drug use.

Author's Note: I apparently have a lot of feelings about sitting in Rhys's lap, 'cause I wrote this Vamp!Rhys fic and this in the same week. I was gonna end it on an angsty note, but the miscommunication trope makes me want to rip my hair out, so I made it fluffy instead (they're adults they can TALK TO EACH OTHER like adults). Anyway, hope ya'll enjoy! As always, let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List, and thank you to everyone who likes, comments and reblogs, ya'll make me want to keep writing <3

Previous chapter/ Master list

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The music is a heavy pulse in your skull, drowning out all thought as the lights flash and flare overhead like dozens of fireworks in time to the beat. Your hips sway, flimsy excuse of a dress clinging to your thighs as you twirl and spin in time to the beat. Dozens of hands pass you a long, keep you spinning and spinning until the lights glitter like stars overhead. You throw your head back and laugh at the way they glitter and stretch along your quickly blurring vision.

Someone passes you another cup and you tip the contents back in one gulp, savoring the burn, relishing in the way it fills your empty stomach. You’ve lost count of how many glasses you’ve had, lost count of where the empty ones go as you move along with the crowd, let the press of bodies move you like an ebbing tide.

A cigarette gets passed your way, the violet smoke filtering in hazy rings around people’s heads like halos. Do you smoke? You can’t remember. Can’t think about why you should care at all as you bring it to your lips and inhale deeply, letting the mirthroot take hold.

This is the most fun you’ve had in weeks, it’s the first time you allow yourself complete unbridled freedom. There is nothing to worry about here but following the music and the flow of drink as the mirthroot makes your body loose and limber.

Strong hands settle on your hips as you take another drag, eyes closed, savoring the burn. You sway your hips under the grip, pushing your body back into the firm planes of the male behind you. You don’t have the presence of mind to be mortified, to think about the way you’re grinding on a stranger in the middle of this crowd of people. 

Warm breath frames your neck, skittering over the golden collar still encircling your throat. “I think you’ve had enough, Darling.”

Mate. Mate. Mate. The words dance around the bargain mark on your ribs, heat flaring in your chest that has nothing to do with the fae wine or the mirthroot and everything to do with the fact that when you’d been dragged back into your cell, it had been empty. Empty and had smelled like her. And you’d thrown yourself against the battered door, claws slashing across the worn iron until they shattered from your fingertips, until you splattered blood across the unyielding iron, dark mist filling the cell until it nearly sucked the air from the room. You don’t know how or why the door held, why your nails couldn’t cut through the strange marks etched into the door; the only thing that was clear is that in retaliation for leaving, your fault or not, she’d taken Rhys and had left you alone in the dark. Days passed without word, without food, until the guards had come and thrown you into a room with the order to bathe and change and be ready in an hour and you complied only with the intent to go right into the Throne Room to rip her throat out with your teeth. But Rhys hadn’t been at her side when you arrived either, hadn’t been a face in the crowd as Amarantha declared to the court that you had slain the twins sent from Hybern for attacking their Queen. The crowd that days ago had been laughing at your plight as you’d been made to kneel on the floor like an animal was now cheering you on like a hero. Fickle and spineless; Amarantha said jump and they asked how high without question or reason. She’d left you to their whims after that and the wine had started flowing and you’d needed to calm the panic and rage swelling like a storm beneath your skin and had reached for one. One had somehow turned into two and then three and you’d lost count after that, lost yourself in the blissful emptiness and tried to forget how powerless you really were in all of this.

You turn in his arms and though he remains standing where he is, there’s suddenly six of him spinning in dizzying circles and you have to grip onto his shoulders to keep yourself on your feet.

“Easy,” he says, his grip on your hips firm.

You’ve forgotten just how big he is compared to you, how much of you he can fit in his hands. You're too far gone to stop yourself from wondering how those hands would feel beneath your dress, on your thighs, spreading you open…

“Easy,” he says again, nostrils flaring like he scents the effect he has on you like this.

Your hands feel like they're drifting through soup as you reach out to brush your hand through his hair. He’s clean too, skin healed, the clothes new and finely pressed. There is no lingering scent of incense, though you’re pretty sure the mirthroot you smell is on your skin and not his, he remains wholly jasmine and citrus. Nothing of her on him.

“You’re ok?” The words slur out of you, sound muffled and distant even as they come out your mouth. You need him to tell you he’s ok, that she didn’t hurt him, that he got called away for something, anything. He does other things for her, he brought in Tamlin all those weeks ago, he has other roles, but you don’t know how to make the words come out against the fog that rolls through your head. “You’re ok?”

“I’m ok,” he says with a nod. “Let’s get you some water.”

You shake your head. Water is somewhere near the tables and lounge chairs in the corner, somewhere she might be lurking, waiting for you to slip up, waiting for her chance to steal him again and you can’t have that. “Want to dance.” Want to dance and drink and forget; want to smoke and move and let the music erase everything that is happening around you so that the only thing that matters is the two of you. It’s an added bonus that if he dances with you then that means he keeps his hands on you, has an excuse to keep touching you. Gods you want more of that!

“Water first,” he says, giving you a little nudge backwards.

The move makes the world spin again and you giggle as you let yourself fall into it. 

“Wow, you’re really drunk,” he says as he hauls you against his chest and half carries half drags you through the crowd.

“You’re strong,” you giggle. You can feel the muscles in his arms and chest tighten as he moves you around, his fingertips digging deliciously in your hips. 

It’s by sheer force of Rhys’s will that you end up in a chair with a glass of water, that you take a single sip of and make a face. “Gross. Want more wine.”

A servant automatically appears with a glass beside you, but before you can grab it, or spill it given the way your limbs flop around, he snatches it off the tray. “Water first.”

You stick out your lower lip. “Why are you being so mean to me?”

He takes a drink out of the cup and suddenly the most exciting thing in the world is watching how his throat works when he swallows and the way the wine stains his lips. “‘Cause it’s fun,” he retorts.

You manage to get another sip of water down before you accidentally catch the glass on the edge of the table and spill it everywhere. “Fuck me,” you say dejectedly. In your state your first thought is to use your skirts to try and dry up the mess, but there’s not enough of them, the sheer fabric barely covering the tops of your thighs. 

“You have impeccable manners,” he says as he reaches for your hands to stop you from flashing the whole room as you try and wiggle the dress up enough to use it as a napkin. With a snap of his fingers the mess cleans itself. 

“Ooooohhh neat,” you run a finger over the dry table. “Can you teach me to do that?”

You’re too drunk to notice your mistake, but he says, “If you had any powers left, sure,” a little louder than necessary to cover you.

“Right,” you slur as you try to stand on shaky legs. “Well water was good, we dance now.”

He remains a firm wall between you and the dance floor. “Unless you can absorb water through your skin, you didn’t actually drink anything.”

“Had a sip.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Meanie,” you hiss.

“You’re very cute when you’re drunk,” he teases and the grin he gives you makes you want to stretch up on your toes and kiss him right there. 

“You’re very kissable when you smile,” you return.

Rhys huffs a laugh and you think you might do just about anything to get him to laugh again. 

“I’m always very kissable,” he retorts. “It’s part of my charm.”

“So make part of your charm dancing with me,” you press.

He grabs your hand like he might do just that, but instead, spins around you to claim an empty couch and pulls you down to sit in his lap so fast the world flips and twirls in a blur of pulsing colors that makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The wine rises up in your throat, threatening to come back out in a rush and you curl into his chest trying to find a way to make it stop.

“I think this is better.”

You squeeze your temples with your palms. “Make my brain stop spinning,” you whine. Maybe he’s right, maybe dancing is a bad idea. 

Besides, he’s still touching you like this. More than touching actually. You’re situated in his lap, knees bracketing his hips, chest to chest, no collar around his throat to stop you if you wanted to put your lips to his neck. There’s not even a scar or bruise to indicate that it had been there, nothing but smooth, bronze skin and the teasing peak of his tattoos beneath his collar.

You brace yourself against his shoulders as the world stops spinning, suddenly very aware of how high your skirt is riding up and how strong the muscles in his thighs are between your legs.

He brings his hands to hold your hips again and you thank the Mother that you’re not so drunk that you’ve lost your inhibitions completely because the only thought in your head right now is how it would feel to grind yourself down on him.

“You’re very drunk,” he says lowly, his own gaze locked on the space between your bodies like he’s drinking in the way your thighs look around him.

“So?”

“So it would be wrong,” he retorts.

“What?” You move your hands to the back of the couch behind him, chest brushing his. There’s barely any straps to your top, the neckline a deep v that leaves your cleavage on display and you don’t miss the way his gaze tracks it as you lean in. “What would be wrong?”

He runs his tongue over his lower lip, staring and something stirs deep inside you. Claim. Claim. Claim. He is your mate and you want him to touch you, kiss you, claim you. 

It’s the thought that makes you pause for a brief moment. Does he know your mates? Does he feel this growing need? This incessant longing beating from your rib cage that needs to be touched and held and claimed so deeply you forget what it felt like to be anything else? Is that the bond? Or the wine? 

“Doing all the things I’ve been thinking about since the moment I had my lips on yours,” he says, voice barely a whisper, gaze still transfixed on your body.

You preen under the heat in his gaze, press your chest a little more firmly into his so that you can be nose to nose with him. The wine has certainly made you more brazen. “What kinds of things, Rhys?”

The hands holding your hips tighten, fingertips kneading the soft flesh hard enough to bruise and yet your whole body turns molten at that touch. It’s the delicious line between pain and pleasure, and after days and days of cold emptiness, the heat it sparks through your body is more addictive than any wine or drug you can consume here.

“Want this dress off you for starters,” he murmurs, full lips drifting down to dust over the straps clinging to your shoulders. 

His words conjure an image in your mind of him leaning forward, pulling the straps down with his teeth, baring the full expanse of your body to him. You shiver under the mental image, hips rocking down against him.

“Want to mark every bit of you I can reach, so that no one dares touch you,” he continues, teeth scraping over your shoulder. “So that everyone knows your mine.”

His.  The possession in his tone really does you in, heat building in your lower belly as you grind yourself down against the growing bulge in his pants. The scrape against your core makes your mouth drop open, groan falling from your parted lips. It would be so easy to come undone from this alone.

“Only mine,” he emphasizes, sucking a mark where your neck meets your shoulder, visible beneath that damned collar you can’t take off.

“Rhys,” you whimper, releasing your grip on the back of the couch to drag your hands through his dark hair. “Please.”

His lips move along your throat, teeth scraping your skin before sucking another mark into your sensitive flesh. He’s taking his time, just as he promised all those weeks ago on Calanmai. “Want to know what little noises you’d make for me, how you’d fall apart in my hands…”

You drag your hand from his hair, reaching for the straps of your dress to pull them down for him, hoping to spur him further into action, but he finally releases his grip on your hips to stop you. 

“None of that, Darling,” he tuts. “It comes off when I say it does.”

To that point, when you try to rock your hips against him again, it's his glittering, obsidian power that pins you in place, a slither of darkness twining around your hips to hold you there, utterly at his mercy.

He chuckles when you whimper and pout, lower lip sticking out, tears welling up in your eyes, because it’s not fair that he’s this close, that he’s just a hair breadth away from where you need him most and he knows it. He can smell it on you, see it on every line in your face, and yet he won’t move to help you.

“Please, Rhys, please,” you beg. The need for him is unbearable, your whole body burning like it’s on fire, the only relief is the contact with his body. Your mate so close to where you need him most.

“Hogging the woman of the hour, are we?” 

You hadn’t heard any approaching footsteps over the pounding of the base against the rock, the sudden appearance making you flinch as Rhys throws a warning snarl over your shoulder. It only makes the red headed male approaching chuckle as he comes to stand directly behind you. The cedar and cinnamon smell of him reminds you of curling up under a warm wool blanket next to a fireplace with your favorite book about vampires, something you like to do in nice Autumn weather.

Slender fingers drag up your spine, and in your delirious state, it makes you arch your back as you shiver under it.

“Eris,” Rhys purrs, but there’s an edge in his tone as he watches you move under another male’s ministrations. The sliver of his power around your waist tightens, the shadows slipping under your skirts to writhe against your flushed skin. He allows you to jerk forward, hips rocking right into the obvious sign of his own arousal, and your eyes roll back into your head at the contact.

“I can name a dozen males who would kill for a chance to be where you are right now, Rhysand,” Eris returns.

“I don’t share,” Rhys says and cauldron that’s all it takes for you to place your lips against his throat. He hums his approval as you scrape your teeth against his skin, hands threading into your hair as you nip and bite and use your tongue to cool any pain you cause him. 

Eris plops himself down in the seat next to Rhys, long arms thrown over the back of the couch as he makes himself comfortable. 

You can’t bring yourself to care about the audience as you nip at the underside of his jaw. He tilts his head back for you so you can reach more of him unhindered and you sink a little lower down on his lap chasing any friction you can find before the shadows tighten and still your movements again.

“Bastard,” you growl into his throat, but he merely turns his attention to the male next to him. 

“You didn’t respond to my message,” Eris hisses. A glass of wine appears in his hand and he takes a slow drink. To any onlookers he’s merely enjoying the party with the High Lord and his nightly entertainment. 

“What message?” 

“Shit.” This conversation is becoming sobering, despite your best efforts to tune out the other male and focus solely on the pleasure just out of reach. All night long you’d been able to forget.

Eris gives you a sidelong glance that might have made you squirm under the intensity if Rhys hadn’t shifted beneath you to get a better look at the other male, hips brushing up against your center in a move that is definitely intentional. 

“The one I gave her,” Eris snarls.

“This is the first I’ve seen her in days,” Rhys retorts, a hand stroking through your hair. “You know how to get in contact with me.”

Eris glances around at the dancers that move past for refreshments as he takes another drink. Only when they’re gone does he say, “So you didn’t tell her to kill the twins?”

You stop moving; stop thinking about Rhys’s body as the image of Dagdan and Brannagh’s mangled bodies flash across your mind. You’re suddenly a lot more sober than you had been moment ago.

Rhys brushes a mental hand against your mind and you flinch, head still tender from the beating it had taken trying to keep your cousins out. “Darling?”

The concern in his tone makes shame burn its way through your lungs. At the littlest thing he’s dropping everything to make sure you’re ok, and yet here you are, with no idea where he’s been or what he’s been through and you’re grinding in his lap like a horny teenager. What kind of mate are you?

“No I didn’t,” Rhys says to Eris, even as he makes another tender stroke against your mind, asking to be let in. “But I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“Do you think we can use it to our advantage?” Eris asks.

You don’t deserve how gentle he is with you, but you can’t stop yourself from lowering your shields just enough to let him in. He should know just how much of a monster you’re capable of being before he gets too close. 

“Will you show me?” He asks and you open the doorway into the memory, keeping the conversation you’d had with Tamlin about him, the realization of what he is to you, out of reach. He deserves better than that.

Rhys strokes his hands in your hair as he watches the memory unfold, your body shaking in his grip as all that blood and gore comes into view. When it’s over, he closes the door in your mind and clicks the lock into place for you. “It’s over. You’re safe. You did what you had to do to survive, there is no shame in that.”

You press your face into his shoulder to hide the tears brimming in your eyes. You’re an ugly crier when you’re tipsy and you know if you start, you won’t stop.

“I think it’ll bring Hybern here quicker,” Rhys says to Eris, as he drags the fingers in your hair down to trace your spine. To an onlooker, he’s still playing with you, only the two of you know how often he’s traced these shapes into your skin when you wake up screaming in the dungeons. “Which can be played to our advantage if we’re careful.”

Eris takes another sip of wine, mulling it over.

“If Hybern can be convinced that our queen is acting out of her own agenda instead of his, he may just do our work for us.”

“A dangerous game,” Eris frowns.

“It always is,” Rhys returns.

It’s astounding how calm and level headed he can remain, always centered, even while everyone else rages and panics around him. How are you supposed to be his equal? To his calm there is only your spinning thoughts and unchecked temper. Everything makes you want to claw and rage and smash things; aren’t mates supposed to balance each other out? What do you bring him other than another mess to sort through?

“Well if you’re not going to share her, I’ll leave you to it,” Eris says as he downs his cup and stands, making a show of stretching, tight shirt rising up to expose the toned line of his abs to a passing cluster of male and female dancers.

Rhys chuckles at that, sliding a little lower into the couch, as he says, “She’s all mine.”

Is this all the conversation they can have? A few passing whispers? A few half-veiled hopes at a plan? Fifty years of juggling court masks and gathering allies and pushing pieces into place in the shadows while everyone else parties around them? It’s such a contrast to the world you’re used to that you can’t help but feel small inside it. 

It’s only when he’s gone that Rhys asks, “Are you ok?”

“I thought being drunk was supposed to make me feel less depressed,” you grumble into his shirt because he’s pleasantly warm and you can’t bring your body to move from where you’re pressed into his chest.

“I think you passed over the threshold for that a couple drinks ago,” he replies.

“Take me back to the blissful void,” you whine.

“Well enough people have seen you here with me, I think we can slip away and get you into bed without causing a scene now.”

He’d pulled you over here on purpose, removing the shield of the crowd so people would see you with him, see you cutting loose, and when you disappeared they’d think he’d taken you to bed and not wonder if there was anything more to it, because his reputation was enough. That mask was so encompassing it could shield you too.

Rhys winnows you away and you can’t tell what end is up anymore, not until he sets you square in the center of a bed with black silk sheets. His room, as dust covered and bare as it had been the last time.

You groan as you fall back into the pillows, all the wine threatening to come up again as you try to keep yourself upright. This position allows you to feel just how wet you are between your legs, making you stop squeezing your eyes shut to look at the damp spot you’d left on Rhys’s pants. Not that he seems to notice as he peels off his jacket and starts unbuttoning his shirt, getting comfortable for the night, even as shame makes your cheeks turn bright red. What is wrong with you?

“You need a bucket over there?” He asks.

You need to drink until you can forget what you’ve been doing all night. How are you supposed to look at him now?

You hear the clink of his belt coming off before he climbs into the bed next to you and you force yourself not to open your eyes and look at what he’s wearing to bed, because you’ve made a fool of yourself enough for one night.

“That last drink was a mistake,” you lie, because what else are you supposed to say?

His body is warm as he lays down beside you. “You played your part well,” Rhys encourages. “No one will think twice about where you’ve gone.”

You’re an idiot, but you’re not quite sober enough to think better of it as you ask, “Is that all this is? A game?”

Rhys uses a bit of his power to snuff the candles out, bathing the room in utter darkness. “It’s necessary-”

You roll onto your side, finally daring to look at him, as best you can in the dark anyway. “But is that all you want it to be?” You press. 

He’d been laying with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, but at your words he rolls over too, so you’re once again nose to nose, practically sharing a breath.

“Wanting anything is dangerous, Y/N.”

“So all that you said earlier, about wanting me, that was just for show? This is just a mask?”

“It keeps you safe,” he says so low it's almost a growl.

“But it’s not what you want?”

“I can’t…” he shakes his head. “I can’t. The things I love have a tendency to be taken from me, I cannot want anything other than to get out of here.”

Your eyes sting and you’re glad for the dark, glad that it hides the tears welling up in your eyes. “I can play this part, if that’s what we need to fulfill this bargain,” it’s a concentrated effort to keep your voice steady, but you mean it. If this is all it will be, then you will have to find a way to live with it, because at least your mate will be alive. And maybe, if Amarantha sees anything like what you two had been doing tonight, then maybe she’d direct that anger at you instead of him. You could find a way to use it to protect him, the same way he’d used it for you.

He’s your mate, whatever you have to do to make sure he survives, you’ll do it. Even if it tears you apart inside.

“But please, just tell me that it’s not real, that you don’t really want me, so that I can prepare, so that I don’t overstep. The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable.”

His pause feels like it spans an hour, the silence ticking away like a clock in the darkness. “I…”

You stamp down the hope flaring in your chest, it’ll be easier to deal with if he is up front that he doesn’t see you as anything but a means to an end. “What do you want, Rhys?”

He growls, the sound skittering across your bones as he throws an arm around your waist and crashes his lips against yours. “You,” he says into your mind. “I want you in any way you’ll have me.”

The ink on your chest warms, feels strangely like it’s glowing beneath your skin as the solid weight of him settles on top of you, pushing you into the mattress. You're a tangle of limbs and teeth, as he kisses you like it might be his only chance to.

You drag your hands down the sharp contours of his spine, memorizing the feel of him beneath your fingertips as his tongue slides behind your teeth to taste you. This is far better than any drug, no amount of mirthroot could ever make you feel this high.

“You’re ok with this?” He pants into your lips, finally coming up for air.

“More than ok,” you confirm and that’s all it takes for him to start sliding the straps off your dress, pulling the tight fitting bodice slowly from your body. The chill in the air is only a momentary discomfort before his hands and lips chase it away as he follows the fabric down your body.

Thank the Mother for the privacy of the room, that you hadn’t managed to get your top off like you’d tried to do in the throne room, because the noise you let out when he gets his mouth around your nipple is embarrassingly loud, whole body flushed crimson. You clamp your hand over your mouth when he does the same move on your other breast, or at least you try to, that slithering ether of power snags your wrist and pins it above your head before you can cut off the noise.

“None of that,” he hums into your skin, teeth scraping your skin. “Want to hear you.”

Cauldron he’ll be the death of you! 

It’s his power that whisks the glamor away from the bargain mark so he can run his lips over the ink, tracing the flower petals and vines. “We should make more bargains, you look so pretty with all this ink.”

You huff a laugh as you scrape your nails through his hair, making a mess of it. “What kinds of bargains?”

He kisses lower, pulling the dress down towards your hips, following it again. “That you’ll let me taste you like this once a day for the rest of eternity,” he suggests as he lifts your hips to get the dress lower.

“I’m not wasting a bargain on that,” you huff, though you’re embarrassed to admit the way the suggestion makes heat pool in your core.

“You’re right, twice a day is more practical,” he says as he slips both the dress and your underthings off in one fell swoop. Strong arms wrap around your hips as he settles himself between your legs and you barely have time to draw a shaky breath before he’s running his tongue up your center.

“I-” all thought and argument eddies from your mind as your body arches under his ministrations. 

“More than that, perhaps?” He teases, adding a finger to the mix, even as his tongue swirls through your quickly budding arousal.

Your hand in his hair tightens, pulling his hair as you try and guide him deeper. “Rhys,” you whimper. He feels so good; so perfect. Nothing else would ever compare; he’s barely touched you and you’re fully ready to come apart already.

He adds a second finger, stretching you out as his tongue flicks over your clit, the combination making your head spin. You screw your eyes shut as your body tightens, muscles taut as a bow string as your pleasure builds too fast to prepare for. He might still be talking nonsense about bargains but you genuinely can’t hear a word he says against the white noise tearing through your head.

Mate. Mate. Mate. It’s right where the flower-what did he say it was called? Datura?-sits over your heart that you feel the bond between your souls, like a tether of glittering starlight. It’s been there, faint before, just enough of a tether to let you feel a bit of him at the other end, but now it thrums with his power, like it’s searching for your own. A call like the one he’d sent out on Calanmai, and you can’t tell if he’s testing to see if you know it’s there, or if it’s you pulling on it, begging to be closer to him as your high crashes over you.

Rhys kisses his way back up your body, lips damp with your arousal. “You know?” 

The disbelief in his tone brings you back to reality. Your shields had been down and you’d just…

You push yourself up on your elbows. “You knew?” You counter.

He brushes his lips over the bargain mark again, distracting himself from looking into your eyes as he says, “I suspected, before Calanmai, but afterwards, when I saw you for real, not just as a dream, it clicked.”

“You’d been dreaming about me?”

Another kiss on your heated skin, body relaxing under his touch. “For decades,” he whispers. “And I told myself that it was enough, that I’d leave it there, where you were safe and far away from all of this, but then there were whispers in the court about at a weapon Hybern was looking for. The more she had me look into it, the more my dreams started making sense, the better I could see you.”

You brush your fingers through the hair falling over his eyes, prompting him to finally look at you. “When she narrowed down that you were in Spring, she started sending me out on Calanmia to look for you, thinking it might mask all her hunters with those coming to the party. It was my only chance to reach you and I had every intention to get you to leave Spring.”

He catches your hand and presses a kiss to your fingertips. “I never meant to let you see me, but you were so scared and she decided to come out herself for the first time in years and I panicked. I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if she got her hands on you first.”

Your eyes sting at the confession. Your selfless mate, who through all these years of trauma, had still been willing to let you go without ever getting to see you if it meant you didn’t end up here.

“I swore that I’d do everything in my power to get you out, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay away, no matter how much I tried to. You needed me and I… I need you.”

You’re not entirely sure how useful you’ve been to him in all of this, but you let him speak anyway. 

“Not just this,” he says, gesturing to your bodies. “But for all of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I don’t want you to think you’re stuck with me,” he says. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

You sit up as best you can around the weight of him over you so you can grip his face. “I’m not stuck with you. I’m choosing you. I want you, Rhys.”

The disbelief in his eyes makes your heart ache and you lean forward to gently kiss the tip of his nose. “Not just for this,” you repeat, gesturing to your bodies as he had done. “Though it is amazing.”

He grins at that.

“And not just this,” you drag his hand over the ink on your chest. “But for whatever is beyond this. When it’s all over, when we’ve won and we’ve got her stupid head on a pike, I want to explore whatever comes next with you.”

He kisses you then, eagerly, a little less frantic than before, but with no less desire, the taste of your arousal still faint on his swollen lips. You lean back into the mattress, pulling him down with you. 

“I know this whole thing is twisted and terrifying, but I want to walk with you through it. Together.”

“Together,” he confirms as you wrap your legs around his waist.

A new bargain mark zaps across your skin, over your palm, where your hands are intertwined, a twin to the one on his own hand. 

“I still think I made an excellent bargain offer,” he says as you tug at the waistband of his boxers.

“You’re insufferable, Rhysand,” you laugh.

“I think the word you’re thinking of is insatiable,” he counters as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“That too,” you reply as you arch your back, the tip of his cock gliding through your arousal. It’s a little more of stretch than you're used to, but the line between pain and pleasure blurs as he slowly rocks his hips into yours, taking his time to let you adjust. He really will ruin anyone else for you, not that you’ll ever want anything other than this from here on out.

“Darling,” he purrs, or tries to, the groan he lets out as he fully seats himself inside you makes shivers run up your spine. “You have no idea how insatiable I can be.”

You rock your hips, prompting him to move, to match your rhythm, to fill and take and claim you as your body has been begging him to all night long. “I think you should show me.”

The laugh he lets out sounds more like a growl as he picks up his pace, one hand braced against the headboard to give him more leverage as he slides nearly out of you and slams back in. You cling to his shoulders, nails gliding over his sweat-dampened skin for leverage, his name a whimper on your lips.

The bond between you glitters, swells with all the affection and desire he feels for you as he shoots in down to you. For all the pain and trouble it had caused, you think you still you might have come out earlier on Calanmai, just to feel this sooner. 

You whimper his name again and again as your high once again draws closer, your body white hot. 

“I’ve got you,” he says in your ear and judging by the frantic rutting of his hips you know he’ll be right there with you. Together in this, as you will be in the rest of it. You let yourself fall, unrestrained, as pleasure washes over you, your mate giving a shout as he follows close behind. The two of you topple into the sheets, clinging to each other as you catch your breath.

“You ok?” He asks as you cling tightly to him, even as your body relaxes.

You nuzzle your face into his chest. “I’m with my mate, how could I not be?” Whatever tomorrow holds, whatever dangers lie ahead, you can rest knowing that you’ll be together for it.

------------------------------------------

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#rhysand x reader #Rhys x reader #rhysand x reader smut #Rhys smut #acotar smut #acotar rhys #acotar fic #my writing #my fanfic #datura fic #acotar fluf #UTM!rhys #UTM!Rhys x reader #UTM!Rhys smut

[frenchkisstheabyss]

୨୧ ʝαɯႦɾҽαƙҽɾ (ƚԋɾҽҽ) ୨୧

୨୧ Pairings: rich boy!san x chubby!fem!reader, rich boy!yunho x chubby!fem!reader, rich boy!hongjoong x chubby!fem!reader, rich boy!seonghwa x chubby!fem!reader

୨୧ Genre: graduate school au/angst/smut

୨୧ Summary: It was never your intention to infiltrate one of the most exclusive social circles at your new university, seducing rich boys to get who and what you want. Wait, no, it was.

But your actions have consequences and, when the one who brought you into this turns out to be more devious than you expected, are you prepared to face them?

୨୧ Word Count: 2.0k-ish

୨୧ Warnings: a warning I must always add is that you're the villain. everyone's the villain. some more than others of course. kissing. strong language. San has some bruises from a fight. unprotected sex. sex gets a lil bit rough for a sec. a strength kink if you squint. finger sucking. lots of feelings. jealousy. bribery. backstabbing. corruption. pet names. mind games. ya know, wholesome stuff.

୨୧ A/N: This is part three in my Jawbreaker series. You can find part one here but you don't have to start from the beginning if you don't want to. Even though the reader's involved with everyone in this series, this entry is heavy on San with a sprinkle of Yunho at the end and a brief Joong appearance that'll lead into my Joong focused fourth entry. As always, I hope you lovely people out there enjoy it. Love ya.

It’s a morning like any other. Birds perch atop the branches of the towering oak tree outside of the window, chirping their tiny feathered hearts away. The early morning sun—only freshly awakened itself—stretches its rays through cracks in the embroidered curtains keeping you tucked in the gradually depleting shadows. Cologne, with notes of delicate jasmine and woodsy patchouli, pushes up your nose in small puffs each time your cheek presses into the silk pillowcase.

Deprived of any other details you can always tell whose bed you’re in by the scent of the cologne lingering on the bedding. But whose bed you’re inside of doesn’t always match with who’s inside of you. This is one of those times that it does. You know you’re in San’s bed by the cologne. By the sweet, hushed 6AM kisses that handsomely dimpled face snuck to you beneath the sheets. Kisses that led you to where you are now. Flat on your stomach—your plush body hugged by a mattress as soft and inviting as you are—with San so deep inside of you that the pressure’s almost maddening.

You whimper when he pulls out even the slightest bit and he just smiles, kissing you on the shoulder. “So pretty” he whispers, strong hands gripping your hips. With a grunt sensual enough to make you come right here and now, he thrusts into you, his hips working at a rhythmic pace. You feel the muscles of his chest flex against your back with each forward motion. If only there were a way of seeing him. How sinfully good he must look fucking you this way. Every fine muscle in his body dedicated to pleasing you.

It makes you even wetter picturing it. So wet he has to grip your hips harder, raising them an inch or so above the mattress to keep from slipping. The introduction of a new angle makes your body tremble. He feels it too. Your walls constrict around him, like a boa snake trapping its prey. He’s hard enough to meet you with equal intensity, stretching your walls so that the only sensation your body can recognize is this.

“San, oh god. Please…” you gasp, that magical prickly feeling radiating up your spine. “Please, what?” he teases, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek as his movements grow harsher. Your mouth falls open, your eyes twinkling like stars in the last remnants of darkness in the room. “Don’t stop” you beg, never one to hide how needy you are. Why would you when he finds it so goddamn hot? 

San’s fingers trace the bow of your upper lip, the curve of your lower lip, and rest at the tip of your tongue. You take them into your mouth, suckling and drooling as he gives you precisely what you asked for. No stopping. No easing up. All of him driving deep into you. Your lips quiver, moans muffled by his fingers, as the orchestra of pleasure that’s been playing inside of you all this time reaches the crescendo.

San snatches his fingers away, his timing perfect as always, just to hear your cries. Your fingers grasp at the pillow, tugging at the pillowcase while your body arches at the release. When you finally loosen your hold, your body calmed down to the point of only faint twitches, you feel his weight lift off of you. “Good morning, angel” he says, kissing the small of your back before rolling onto his.

Turning to face him, you slip into the comforting hold of his right arm. “Good morning, handsome” you yawn, eyeing the slight bruising on his face from last night’s run in with Seonghwa. It’d been easy enough to push the incident to the back of your mind, letting hours of infinitely satisfying sex bury the guilt you felt about what happened. Poor Hwa and what he must be going through. All of his work, the amalgamation of hundreds of hours of research, forever lost.

And San, achy and bruised, punched by his own best friend for something he’d never stoop so low as to do. “Tell him” the little voice in your head whispers. But how can you? Where do you even start? They’ll all hate you—San, Hwa, Hongjoong especially—and you’ll lose everything. It’s a knife to the gut when you realize that “everything” isn’t the money you came here in search of. Somehow along the way it’s become them. 

An alarm sounds, rattling you from your existential crisis. Recognizing it as yours, you grab your phone from the nightstand and return to his arms. “Shit, I gotta get to class. I don’t wanna” you pout, turning the alarm off and tossing your phone aside. San kisses your forehead, puppy dog eyes in full effect, “Then don’t go. Stay with me.” You want to say “Yes”, he doesn’t know how badly you do, but you still have to keep up with your academic responsibilities. 

“You know I can’t do that, San.”

“Why can’t you? You can do whatever you want.” 

“No, you can do whatever you want. I’m not you.”

“But you’re mine” he grins, caressing your cheek, “So technically you can. I make one call and you’ll make the Dean’s List without ever turning in another paper.” You’d almost forgotten he was a spoiled rich kid. He wasted no time reminding you. You roll your eyes, slipping out of bed to collect pieces of your clothing scattered about the room. “Has it ever occurred to you that I might want to have my own base of intelligence?”

San sits up to watch you get dressed, taking his time to enjoy the way your panties slip over your ass. “Not really” he answers, his gaze still fixed on your body. “You can be a real asshole, you know that?” you snap, rushing to put the rest of your clothes on, “Don’t worry about giving me a ride. I’ll call an Uber.”

San hops out of bed, swiping something up off of the floor, and drags you into a hug. Holding you from behind, his arms locked around your waist, he rests his chin on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” You try to wiggle free, knowing in an instant that you can’t. He’s far too strong and—hot as it was a mere 60 seconds ago—you hate him for it. “Whatever. Just let me go. I’m gonna be late.”

“Fine but take these at least” he insists, dangling a key in front of your face. You recognize it from last night. It’s the key to that sleek Lamborghini he’d let you drive him home in. It swings back and forth on the keyring, hypnotizing you with its beauty. “The Lambo? You’re letting me borrow it?” San laughs at how oblivious you are, “No. It’s yours. Think of it as an apology.” You spin around, prepared to protest, but he silences you with a kiss that turns your brain to a pitiful bowl of jello.

It was bait. A worm dangling from a hook waiting for some poor, naive little fish to bite it. And you did. A hook straight through the mouth, reeling you back into him. The key finds its way into your hand. Your panties drift back down around your ankles. You’re caught. Poor naive little fish.

“Would you like another coffee, sir?” the waitress asks, carefully refilling Yunho’s glass of water. Yunho peeks up from the laptop he’s been tapping away on for the last hour. “That’d be great. Thank you so much” he smiles, taking notice of the way she blushes when he looks at her. The waitress giggles, nearly overflowing the glass of water. She catches herself at the last minute, setting the glass back down and scrambling away.

Yunho laughs to himself, already sure that he’d have her in his bed by the end of tonight if he wanted. He’s not wrong. But first he has a paper to finish. He came here—to this cozy cafe with its floor to ceiling library and rustic exposed brick walls—in hopes that it’d help clear his mind.

Regret. That’s not the word for what he feels for what he set in motion. It’s more like doubt. Doubt about how far he’s willing to go to satiate his hunger for revenge. Blood’s already been shed and, now that he knows it’s a possibility, is it worth the risk of shedding a little more?

Screech! A car pulls into the empty parking spot outside in perfect view of his window seat. Yunho examines the car—the make, the model, the contour, the color—and knows who he expects to step out of that Lamborghini. “San?” he mumbles, rising from his seat. The car door opens and, in place of his old friend, he sees you headed straight for the door with rage in every step you take. He can’t see your eyes behind the dark glasses that conceal them but he knows they’re filled with hatred.

You charge into the cafe and meet him face to face, no pleasantries wasted on who you’ve come to view as your enemy. “I’m out” you say, removing your glasses to reveal the conviction of your statement. Yunho glances down at your outfit, an expensive black dress and heels from a Dior collection that doesn’t drop for another 6 months. “Hongjoong pick that out for you?” he asks, intent on getting under your skin. 

“Yunho, stop deflecting.” 

“So, the answer’s ‘Yes’ then” he gloats, adjusting the matching beret on your head, “You aren’t out, pretty baby. There is no out.” You slap his hand away, your defiance doing nothing to shake him. “After what you did to Hwa, there is an out. How could you…” The far away look on his face makes you question if he’s even listening. For once he is and the more you talk the clearer his true feelings become. He’s…hurt?

“What I did? You think I did that?”

“Ugh” you groan, massaging your temples, “Everything you’ve ever said to me was a lie. Can’t you be honest with me? Just once?”

Yunho takes you by the wrists, staring deeply into your eyes. “When I said something was gonna happen I meant to Joong, not Seonghwa. I wouldn’t do something that big without telling you” he says, his voice trembling, “You have to believe me.” The sincerity in his voice, the gentleness in his eyes, plays your heartstrings like harp. But your mind knows better. Going with your heart when it comes to him has hurt you too many times before. It won’t happen again.

“Uh, did you still want the coffee?” the waitress asks, awkwardly hovering beside the two of you with a small cup of coffee on a ceramic plate. Yunho switches the charm back on, taking the coffee from the waitress, “Yes, of course, thank you.” Seeing no point in staying any longer, you use this as your chance to make your exit. Staying there any longer can only lead to disaster.

“Pretty baby!” Yunho calls out to you as your hand reaches for the door handle. You stop in your tracks, curious what he could possibly have to say. 

“Do you know why I’d never lie to you?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know. Why?”

“You’ve seen the ugliest parts of me and stayed” he says, taking a sip of his coffee, “Why would I hide from you now?” 

There it is again. The tugging at your heart. It’s paralyzing. What if he’s telling the truth? The chances of that are as slim as winning the lottery but what if? Your head’s spinning when you climb back into the car, idling in the driver’s seat while you try to make sense of it all. It had to be Yunho. There’s no way it wasn’t. Everyone else on campus adores Seonghwa. Who else could even fathom hurting him? 

Tap! Tap! You jump at the sound of tapping on the passenger’s side window. Before you can investigate the noise a figure enters the car. “Hongjoong!” you shout, hitting him on the arm, “You almost gave me a heart attack. Shit.” “Oh, I’m sorry, cutie. You okay?” he asks, gently massaging your leg. Catching your breath, you notice something's...off. “I’m okay, Joongie but what are you doing here?” Stoic at first, his gaze shifts to Yunho moping inside of the cafe. When it comes back to you there’s an eerie, unnerving grin spread across his face.

“He’s so sad that you didn’t believe him” Hongjoong laughs, his eyes growing dark, “You should’ve.”

#ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x female reader #choi san angst #choi san x reader #ateez smut #choi san smut #choi san x you #ateez angst #yunho x reader #yunho x you #ateez au #seonghwa x reader #chubby reader #yunho angst #plus size reader

[uncouth-the-fifth]

good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy/reader #resident evil #resident evil four #re4 remake #leon kennedy drabble #uncouthre