#i also like that she is fat AND everyone thinks shes pretty | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atomicami · 7 months

Text

tattoo artist!abby hcs

modern!abby anderson x fem!reader

✰ content: no outbreak obviously, mentions of needles, tattoos/piercings, vegas living, mentions of anxiety from reader, a bit of homophobia, there are nsfw headcanons so minors and ageless blogs DNI!!, mentions of oral and strap usage (r!receiving), mirror play, scissoring, some picture taking, very inappropriate use of piercings 😀 different sex positions, and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything

✰ middle pic creds to @abbystanaccount

these headcanons are inspired off a pic i saw on twitter the other day that literally had me going feral. like if that isn’t the most tattoo artist!abby coded shit then idk what is. so let’s talk about it!

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s been addicted to getting tattoos since the day she turned 18 and is so obsessed with the buzzing of the tattoo gun that she decided to dedicate her whole career on it

✰ tattoo artist!abby also canonically has her tongue pierced. you can’t tell me otherwise.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s now in her mid 20s and owns a tattoo shop in las vegas, nevada, since the tattoo industry tends to pay pretty well there. what happens in vegas doesn’t always tend to stay there, right?

✰ tattoo artist!abby goes through lots of customers on a day to day basis, and personally she could care less whether they’re sober and just looking for some new ink or drunk with some impulsive decision making after a bottomless margarita from fat tuesday’s because she’s still making that bank regardless.

✰ tattoo artist!abby also keeps a black polaroid camera by her station and has a whole collection of photos hung up on the wall next to her desk. to cherish the moment, she’s always had the tradition to take a picture of her first time clients, along with any celebrities that have visited her shop as well.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who hears the shop’s bell chime and turns to see a group of girls coming their way towards reception for a walk in appointment.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who sees you shyly standing in the middle of your friend group, anxiously waiting while you look around her shop

✰ tattoo artist!abby is told by one of your friends that they’re celebrating their graduation season from UNLV and as a memory together they all wanted to get some cheap $10 matching tattoos that her shop offered to customers.

✰ tattoo artist!abby notices that you’re the only one in your friend group that doesn’t have any tattoos and secretly holds her excitement in when you tell her that it’s your first one, because she would love to be the first person to put some ink on that blank canvas of yours.

✰ tattoo artist!abby starts making stencils for your friend group’s matching tattoos. your friends impulsively chose to do matching tramp stamps and of course you reluctantly agree to do it with them.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who, once it’s your turn, tries to keep her cool when you position yourself on the chair, with your front facing with the front of the chair and your bare lower back peeking out of your low rise jeans to her face.

✰ tattoo artist!abby gently placing the stencil on your lower back and handing you a mirror for you to check and see if the placement looks good.

✰ tattoo artist!abby noticing you start to get anxious once she turns on the tattoo gun, and keeps her free hand placed by your hip, and tells you reassuringly “just squeeze my hand if it hurts or if you need a break, okay?”

✰ tattoo artist!abby praising you throughout the whole tattoo process, saying things like “you’re doing so good for me love, just stay still now…i promise we’re almost done.”

✰ tattoo artist!abby who pulls out her polaroid camera once everyone’s finished and takes a group photo of you with your friends to hang up on her client wall, before pulling you to the side to get a photo of just you with your first tat.

✰ tattoo artist!abby letting your first tattoo be on the house and not letting you pay for it, secretly telling you that it’s a special discount just for you since you’re the prettiest client she’s ever had

✰ tattoo artist!abby who runs into you at the grocery store a week later, and you couldn’t help but check her out in the gym outfit she was wearing: dark gray sweats and a tight black muscle tee that perfectly contoured her broad physique and showed off her arms, letting you see how her inked pieces hugged those defined muscles of hers. and her hands…you also couldn’t help but imagine what her tatted fingers would look like inside your cu—

“hey! long time no see…everything alright with the tattoo so far?”

“hm? oh yeah! the tattoo has been healing perfectly…i’ve been doing the aftercare routine you recommended me to do.”

✰ tattoo artist!abby takes advantage of the moment she has with you right now and asks you out on a date, to which you accept.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who takes you out to a lovely restaurant by the strip, and tells you to order whatever you want because she’s been dying to spoil you since the moment you walked into her shop.

✰ tattoo artist!abby holding you close by her side as you walk down the strip with her. since she’s more familiar with vegas than you are, she knows how the strip can be dangerous at night and wants to keep you safe.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who safely drops you off back to your place in her black jeep wrangler, kissing you on the cheek goodbye with a second date already locked in.

✰ who knew that a second date with tattoo artist!abby would soon progress into something much more than that.

✧*.｡✰ ───

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s now been your girlfriend for almost three years, to which i’m very well aware is equivalent to like a whole decade in wlw relationships but you both are still going strong today.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who manages to expand her tattoo shop, now being a small chain with a few other locations established across las vegas.

✰ tattoo artist!abby loves it when you visit her during your lunch hours, leaving whatever it is that she was doing to any of her other employees to finish so she can spend some time with you

✰ tattoo artist!abby who still has the polaroid she took of you from when you first came into her shop three years ago, placed inside a little red photo frame on her desk right next to her customer photo wall.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who now lives with you, and upgraded her studio apartment to a nice townhouse outside of the strip, since she knows you have a hard time sleeping at night with the overwhelming atmosphere it always carries.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who lets you color her tattoos with markers whenever you get really anxious, since she knows doing that helps you calm down.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s done just a few more pieces on you since the start of your relationship with her, but you always tell her to keep the tattoos minimalistic since that is the style you’ve preferred

✰ tattoo artist!abby who takes you out to eat for your three year anniversary at top of the world, a fancy revolving restaurant located inside the stratosphere hotel that has a panoramic view of the entire las vegas strip

✰ tattoo artist!abby who that same night, waits at the right moment for the hourly fountain show to start playing in front of the bellagio so she can get down on one knee and propose to you right there for everyone to see.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who goes all out for the wedding, booking it at a venue not in vegas, but all the way upstate in lake tahoe, so the two of you can get married with a beautiful lakeside view.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who successfully convinces her father to walk you down the aisle at her wedding after your parents found out that you were going to marry her and decided not to come. despite the fact that jerry wasn’t too fond of abby’s tattoo obsession and had wanted her to follow in his footsteps and become a doctor like him, it didn’t stop him from unconditionally loving and supporting his only daughter. and he knew you were the perfect one to give that to her as well.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who doesn’t even let the officiant finish his final statement and wraps an arm around your waist, twirling you around the altar and giving you the most passionate kiss in front of everyone to tie the knot.

✰ but to really tie the knot, after the wedding ceremony you and abby end up tattooing each others first initial onto each others ring fingers inside her shop.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who is so excited to spend the rest of her life married to an amazing and supportive woman like you.

NSFW HCS UNDER THE CUT

✰ tattoo artist!abby enjoys some good missionary, but then again who doesn’t? she mostly loves doing it to you because she knows you get that sense of protection from her in the bedroom with her prominent, muscular figure towering over yours when she pounds her strap deep inside you.

✰ this one shouldn’t even have to be listed because we all know damn well that tattoo artist!abby eats it for her own pleasure. that woman will eat you out like its her final meal on death row. and with that metal tongue ring of hers rubbing against your clit and teasing your tight entrance, abby’s expert tongue alone will have you cumming into her mouth instantly.

✰ tattoo artist!abby also owns one of those vibrating tongue rings, but she’ll only use that on you after you’ve had AT LEAST three orgasms so you’re super overstimulated for it

✰ tattoo artist!abby definitely makes you look down in between your legs while she fingers you, so you can see how much your wetness is soaking up the healed ink on her fingers while she pumps them in and out of your needy cunt.

✰ tattoo artist!abby also doesn’t care how loud you end up getting while she fucks you, despite how embarrassed you get with startling the neighbors when it happens. if anything she encourages that so they can know how good she’s making you feel.

✰ tattoo artist!abby either uses a completely black strap OR a skin tone colored strap that she had custom made to look like it has tattoos on it, because if she was a dude she would definitely have her dick tatted too idc.

✰ tattoo artist!abby has definitely fucked you in her shop when no one else is around..like can you imagine taking her strap in the same chair that she tattoos her customers?? not to mention she’s got mirrors in that shop and she will definitely make you look at it and watch yourself take her strap like the good slut you are.

✰ in addition, tattoo artist!abby also installed a mirror on the ceiling above the chair. she always tells her customers it’s for them to see their backs better while getting a back piece done but you know damn well she put that in her own shop just for you to watch yourself better the next time she fucks you in that chair again

✰ and we certainly can’t forget about tattoo artist!abby’s iconic polaroid camera…she definitely is one for playing the photographer in the bedroom and keeps loads of nude polaroids of you tucked inside her wallet which are for her eyes only.

✰ tattoo artist!abby LOVES doing reverse cowgirl with you! mainly because she can see your whole back profile perfectly and admire the first piece of ink she put on you every time you ride her strap 🫶🏻

✰ i also feel like it’s not too common for tattoo artist!abby to do this but whenever she feels like doing something different she’ll for sure scissor you too. and it’ll definitely feel good on your end because…well…let’s just say that abby’s tongue isn’t the only part of her body that’s pierced 🫣

✰ and last but not least, tattoo artist!abby is 100% the queen of aftercare. she’ll treat your fucked out self the same way she would with a freshly done tattoo. she’ll draw you a nice warm bath to soothe your muscles, make you drink lots water for hydration, and curl up in the bed with her tatted sleeves wrapped around you as you drift off with her to sleep.

in conclusion, we need to give tattoo artist!abby the attention she deserves 🧎🏻‍♀️thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

2K notes · View notes

ciellunee · 5 months

Note

hey hi hello could u do a fic with toji fushiguro and maybe gojo?

one of them (or both 🤭) with a reader who has a very big attitude. like always making up comebacks, acting like a diva, etc. she also has really great hair and outfits. it can be sfw or nsfw—whichever one works better.

Hey! I hope you're doing good✨️ enjoy reading and keep requesting♡

Bratty reader x jjk men

Includes - Toji fushiguro, Gojo satoru

Tw⚠️- contains NSFW 🔞 minors dni

☆Toji fushiguro☆

At first, he's charmed by your attitude. Nobody ever dared to talk to him like that, but you, you were different.

You're gorgeous. He's in awe of the way you present yourself. From your hair to clothes, your figure and personality, everything is charismatic. Cherry on top is that attitude of yours. You know just what to say. Sometimes, it hurts his ego, but mostly, he enjoys that cute little smirk you have with every spicy comeback.

"Tojiiii, you always have to work on weekends," you whined. 'Some people need to work in order to earn money princess, unlike some who'll laze around the house munching on chips and then complaint they're getting fat.' He shot you a devilish smirk.

"Funny how you're still living under my roof when you work, and I laze around" getting closer to his ears you whisper - ' talk to me like that again and you'll be sleeping on street'

Acting like a brat? He'll make sure he punishes you.

◇NSFW◇

Toji fushiguro doesn't play when it comes to punishments.

He knows how to knock some discipline into your bratty self.

Will pound you from behind and makes you look in the mirror while you continually repeat- "I'm sorry daddy, I've been a brat!"

Degradation is toji's kink. Asks you to repeat things like 'who's sl*t you are' and makes you beg for forgiveness.

Fucks you hard all night until you pass out from all the orgasms you've had.

"Next time make sure your cu*t can keep up with your mouth princess"

☆Gojo satoru☆

Satoru is fun loving when it comes to you. He adores you so damn much that it doesn't matter how bratty you get sometimes.

One thing everyone knows about satoru is that, he's a very jealous man. He knows you're gorgeous. Your shiny locks, elegant clothing and beautiful skin....everything about you makes him crazy.

"Babyyyyyyy!! I miss your cuddles, you're always so busy" satoru groans. 'I can stop working as soon as you stop leaving your damn work unattended' you shrug.

"You're so mean I bet utahime would treat me alot more sweetly" he smirks. He's petty and he knows that. 'And I am pretty sure Kento would be my ideal match. He never complaints, always have my back, he's a great cook and above all......he's so hot!'

This was enough to throw satoru off the table. You're a mean brat and he NEEDS to cater to that.

◇NSFW◇

"Yeah?? Want to cum babygirl" your moans are slippery and eyes filled with tears. 'Toru ple-please' you whined.

Satoru edges you the whole night, reminding you who he his. "You're always so wet for me"

Asks you to moan his name louder and louder so that you know who's making you feel so good. Loves it when your mind breaks and the only thing you can think about or speak about his him.

"Weren't so sweet a while back? You think kento can take care of you like this? You think kento can make you feel like this? You think kento can make this cunt throb this much?"

Edges you to the climax multiple times but removes his hands until you cry and beg for his forgiveness.

I'll let you cum once I feel you're truly sorry. Till then....let's see how much this pu*sy can endure.

Tags- @brunette-bitch77

#jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji smut #jjk smut #toji x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #bratty

338 notes · View notes

xhoneygirlxx · 9 months

Text

More Than Just A Dream

best friend! Eddie Munson x fem reader

summary: Eddie can't understand why you would ever ask him a question like that.

warnings: set in modern times, mentions of cellphones and current pop culture references. swearing, insecurity issues, fluff, slight angst, Eddie being down bad for reader. friends to lovers. bad writing and grammar mistakes. not proofread bc a girl is tired. 18+ Minors please go away.

a/n: being someone who was constantly over looked, only ever being the girl that people were nice to so they could get close to my friends, i really wish i had someone who loved me. now in my twenties, i see all my friends in relationships, getting married, and having the life i want. basically i'm in my feels tonight and i'm going to pretend that i have my own personal Eddie.

You and Eddie were hanging out in his room, you mindlessly scrolling on your phone while he plucked mindlessly at his guitar, contently sitting on his bed. This wasn't uncommon for the two of you, always finding comfort in just being around one another, never caring what it was that you were doing.

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

When the question leaves your lips, Eddie is instantly confused, stopping his fingers movements on the strings he had been messing around with. Your face stayed stoic as you continued to scroll on your screen, almost like you didn't realize you said anything at all. It also confused him because it shouldn't even be a question at all.

Instead of saying the obvious answer, he did the worst thing possible, he laughs. His laughter isn't at you, it's at the stupidity of the question. Of course you're pretty, he thinks you're the most beautiful girl to ever walk the face of the planet.

You don't take his laughter to be kind, your face showing it when your lips drop down in a deep frown.

"You could've just said no, Eddie. Didn't really need you to laugh at me." Your tone is annoyed with a hint of sadness. Eddie wants to smack himself in the head, especially when he made you upset.

Quickly setting his guitar down beside the bed, Eddie's quick to lean up from where he had been sat up by the headboard of his bed, moving so now he's closer to your body that's sat opposite of his at the end.

"Honey I wasn't laughing at you, I was laughing at the question," his ringed hands move to cradle your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him, "Of course I think you're pretty. May I ask why you asked me that question?"

Although his tone is gentle, you shy away from his gaze, looking down at your phone that's still in the palm of your hand. He can see the gears turning in your head, the lie that you're trying to come up with to save yourself from whatever it is that is going on.

Shrugging your shoulders, you continue to look down at your hands, now playing with a loose string on your sweatpants.

"Baby," he coos and you melt in his hands that still hold onto the fat of your cheeks, "can you look at me?"

When you finally find the courage to look up at him, he can see the unushered tears in your eyes, the doubt that hides in your mind. Maybe it's not the best time to think this but he can't help but think how gorgeous you are, how lucky he is to be this close to see the different flecks of colors in your eyes.

"That's my girl, there she is. Now can you answer my question, love? What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?" He moves his hands to push back your hair behind your ears, only to return one his hands to your cheek where he softly stroked it.

"I-um, I just," you let out a loud sigh, obviously overwhelmed with the emotions that are going on in your body. Eddie nods his head, a silent encouragement to continue.

"I just wanna be pretty, ya know? I just wanna be the girl that everyone falls in love with. I know it's unrealistic but I- I see all these girls on Instagram and the way that people comment all these wonderful things, and I just- I just want that so badly. These girls are so pretty and their bodies are so nice, and then there's me."

Eddie can't wrap his mind around what you just said to him. He can't fathom the idea that you can't see what he sees. He also can't help feel this incredibly disgusted with the way social media can warp a persons brain.

The rage in his body has started a wildfire, not with you but with society's expectations. He knows that you follow some of the famous socialites, having watched a few episodes of the Kardashians with you from time to time, and how you always comment about how you wished you looked like them.

There's been so many times he's heard the small insults you say about yourself, he hates that you try to play it off like a joke when deep down you're saying how you really feel.

When he wipes the tears that have since fallen from your eyes, he fights the urge to tell you everything he's been dying to tell you since the two of you became friends.

You're the girl of his dreams, the one that he wants to call his and show off to everyone to make them jealous. Every part of you is beautiful. He has dedicated the feel of your skin on his own so that when it's gone he can still feel it.

Every dip, curve, scar, and inch of your body that he has access to seeing is burned into his memory. You look like his favorite song, so perfect that it fills his heart with joy every time he sets his eyes on you.

"I wish you could see what I see." That's all that he can say, the only thing he can say without putting his friendship with you in jeopardy.

"What do you see?" Your eyebrows pull together and you look up at him with those big pretty eyes.

"Well if I'm being honest, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen." You go to say something and he cuts you off. "Shh, let me say this. There is not one person on this earth that I think could hold a candle to you. Baby, you are so breathtaking that it hurts for me to even look at you."

"I know that the poets would just eat you up, writing line after line about you. Anyone would be lucky to love you honey, seriously you are out of everyone's league. There is not a doubt in my mind that you're gonna find someone who doesn't feel the same way, and if they don't I got a knuckle sammich comin' their way."

To emphasis his point, Eddie brings his knuckles to his fists as if he's reading for a fight. When you laugh he can't help but smile, feeling the butterflies in his stomach fly around with glee.

"Thank you Eds," wrapping your body around his middle in a tight hug, he enjoys the feeling of your warmth on his skin. Selfishly he kisses the top of your head that rests on his chest.

"No need to thank me, sweetheart. Any time you need me too I will gladly remind my girl just how beautiful she is."

Pulling away from him quicker than he likes, you crane your neck slightly to look at him. Your face is shining with the sticky tears that had fallen onto your cheeks, lips red and slightly swollen from the way you bit them, and all Eddie wants to do is take a picture.

"Do you wanna know what I think?" A sly smirk falls on your lips, a playful glint in your eye, and it makes him nervous.

"What's that?" His tone is light and playful, just like yours.

"I think that I wouldn't want just someone." You say while lightly tracing over the letters on Eddie's shirt. Looking down at you with raised eyebrows, he's sure his face is beat red.

"No?" It comes out like a whisper, so soft you almost miss it. When you shake your head, Eddie tilts his, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Then who do you want?"

"I want the boy who think's poets would right write line after line about me."

Pointing a finger to his chest, he mouths the words 'me?', still reeling with everything that just happened. Biting your lip to suppress the smile fighting its way on your face, you nod in agreement.

Finally when everything catches up to him, he reaches for your ribs, slightly pulling you over to lay next to him. Mounting himself on top of you, he can't help leave tiny kisses on your face, like an excited puppy who's waited all day for it's owners return.

"I've *kiss* have *kiss* been waiting *kiss* for you to *kiss* say that *kiss*" When he's finally done setting kisses on every square inch of your face, he sits up slightly to get a good look at the pretty girl underneath him.

"Well I've been waiting even longer, Mr. Eddie Munson."

"Well wait no further, baby. You're stuck with me forever."

Eddie goes back to attacking you with wet kisses, like if he stops he'll never be able to do it again. You return the favor by placing a delicate kiss on his lips.

All Eddie can hope is that this wasn't a dream because he's not sure how he'd be able to handle it.

----------

this is booty cheeks but im sad so let me have this lmao. also thank you for reading <3

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

956 notes · View notes

here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

party on you (explicit)

genre: SMUT SMUT SMUT with an extremely small side of fluff lol

pairing: hoseok x reader

summary: the only thing stronger than your social anxiety is your big dumb crush on hoseok - and you're certainly not expecting it when he tells you the real reason he threw this album release party.

word count: 9.8k

contains: explicit sexual content aka PORN !!!! idol-verse, literally takes place at the JITB album release party, friends to lovers, erotic hand holding, they're both cute and dumb, a studio hookup 👀 dirty talk, thigh riding, cunnilingus, a single pussy slap lol, taint touching (?), HOBI EATS ASS, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, throat fucking, reader gets a facial, and a lil bit of cum eating, it's cute 😌

A/N: so, hi, i went to hobipalooza lmao. this is actually lowkey a songfic ??? charli xcx was one of the earlier acts on hobi's stage and. my god. seeing her live was a religious experience, and when she performed party 4 u i was like hnnnhghg this should be a fic. and now it is !!!! and i hope u enjoy 🥺🥺 i tried some new stuff in here, both soft and freaky lmao so i'm nervy to share!!! as always your support and feedback means the world to meeeee ok ilysomuch bye~

read on AO3 !

~*~

You collapse back against the cushions of your couch with a soft whine of distress.

The whole thing is really so ridiculous. You told yourself when this started that you could be chill about it. People get crushes every day. It doesn’t have to be a huge fucking deal. You’re a sane, rational adult, perfectly capable of admiring a man quietly from afar while doing your best to be a good friend to him.

And, yes, maybe also obsessing a little too much over what to wear when you hang out, and what to post on Instagram in case he might see it, and dear god, how long his hair is getting. All normal crush things.

But now, as you press your phone to your chest with both hands and sigh forlornly, you wonder if it might actually be possible to yearn yourself to death. To like somebody so much that your heart just fucking explodes. If anyone could be capable of inciting spontaneous combustion, it is absolutely Jung Hoseok.

And he wants you to come to his big fancy party– has specifically sent a day-of reminder text, like you didn’t already receive a formal invitation weeks ago.

You purse your lips, fighting to keep a smile off your face despite being alone in your apartment where no one can perceive you. Hoseok is always so good at keeping in touch, even when he’s in an insanely busy season of his life. You can picture him now, probably bustling around his place in a robe, getting ready while simultaneously sending everyone their own personalized message.

Everyone– when you last chatted about the party, he rattled off enough of the guest list for you to know that easily half the industry will be there tonight. And even Lizzo has gushed about how great of a texter he is. You try to ease yourself off the ledge with the comforting thought that this has to be just one courtesy text of dozens, his pretty painted thumbnails working overtime to send gratuitous emojis out to every idol in the city.

And somehow also to you. Because your big fat crush made you stupid enough to say yes to what is arguably your worst nightmare: A party full of cool famous people, where you will know no one except the guest of honor.

Skipping the party is not an option becomes your internal refrain as the hours tick by. You have to remind yourself of this even more emphatically when you wind up on the floor of your bedroom, having tried on every article of clothing in your closet and having decisively hated it all.

Skipping the party is not an option, you think again, grabbing your phone to check the clock. Your heart sinks when you realize how much time you’ve wasted being an anxious wreck– you had planned to be ready to leave five minutes ago, not laying half-naked on the floor, hair and makeup still undone.

But skipping the party is not an option. A pre-party cry, however, might be on the table.

Pushing yourself up to sit on your heels, you force the tears back while you aimlessly sort through a pile of clothes. You’re barely looking at what’s in front of you, but you pause to do a double-take as your hand passes over a particularly enjoyable texture.

When you manage to extract the item, you realize it’s a dress you’d forgotten about entirely– something a friend made you buy a lifetime ago that you’ve never worn because you’ve always been uncomfortable with how short it is. But it’s smooth baby pink satin, and as different from your usual as it may be, you recall not being mad about the way it stuck to your curves like water.

Fuck it. You’re already late, and if there’s ever a party where you can take a fashion risk, it’s one thrown by Hoseok. You can only imagine what he might have on tonight; it honestly wouldn’t surprise you if he showed up in the same fucking dress.

The thought of seeing him is enough to make your heart leap in your chest, and you do your best to speed through your usual makeup and hair routine despite the way your hands are starting to tremble. By the time you grab your purse and make it out the door, you’re thirty minutes late. That thirty minutes quickly stretches into a full hour before you’re stepping off the elevator onto the 19th floor of HYBE headquarters, feeling like an asshole.

Gorgeous idols and various other famous people stream in around you, dressed in clothes that appear casual but you’re sure cost double your monthly rent payment, looking less than unbothered about showing up late. You do your best to slip in unnoticed and stick to the perimeter of the massive room, feeling like an absolute fraud.

Thankfully it’s only a few steps before you find a table taken up entirely by pre-filled flutes of champagne, and you eagerly grab one, mostly just grateful for something to do with your hands.

It occurs to you how little you know about celebrity culture, because the party doesn’t even seem to have started yet: early 2000s R&B is bumping through the speakers, and it feels like every few minutes the elevator chimes to let another group of people trickle into the space. You find an unoccupied section of wall to lean against as you sip your drink slowly, hoping that if you try hard enough, you might actually manage to become one with the wallpaper.

Tipping your head back for another sip of champagne, you nearly choke at an unexpected voice from over your shoulder.

“You look like you hate parties as much as I do.”

You manage to not inhale your drink, instead giving a polite smile as your eyes drift across the crowded room. You’re too nervous to immediately steal a glance at whoever is speaking to you, though you’re sure it just makes you seem rude. “Hate isn’t exactly it.” You have nothing against parties, or people who enjoy them. “I just… haven’t figured out what I’m supposed to be doing, exactly.”

“I think talking to people is generally expected,” the voice quips. “So, hey, you’re doing great already. Keep it up and they might even think you’re an extrovert.”

You exhale a soft laugh, a slight heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“But Hobi said I didn’t have to meet and greet if I didn't want to. So I’m taking that as full permission to enjoy free alcohol and read webtoons on my phone.”

Your gaze snaps over at the familiar nickname, and your mouth goes dry as you realize you’ve been casually conversing with none other than Kim Seokjin, who is absentmindedly fiddling with the thin green strap of the bag slung over his shoulder.

Fuck. Embarrassing yourself in front of random famous people was exactly what you were trying to avoid when you picked this wall to lean against. You’d figured the other members would all be out mingling in the center of things, not hiding in a corner. Who knew celebrities were just like you?

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, immediately dropping your gaze to avoid making eye contact when Jin looks up. He probably assumed you’d sidled up next to him on purpose, like some kind of creepy fan. “I’ll leave you alone, I actually really didn’t mean to–”

You glance up again only to realize Jin is laughing, shoulders shaking slightly.

“Wow, I’m so bad at this. That wasn’t me telling you to fuck off. I was just trying to sympathize.” He gestures lazily towards the stage at the front of the room. “Thankfully it looks like you don’t have to suffer my conversation any longer.”

A Jack in the Box graphic has started to flash, projected onto the screen. After a few seconds, the image stills, and a spotlight clicks on, following Hoseok as he emerges from backstage. You lean forward to set your drink on the closest table so you can join in the applause for him.

Hoseok looks as effortlessly cool as he always does, but even more so tonight, like someone has cranked his charisma up to the max setting. A real fucking popstar, a rockstar, even: baggy clothes, multiple layers of necklaces, chunky black boots, dark hair pushed back with a few strands falling into his eyes. He somehow even manages to make wearing sunglasses indoors look cool– probably because they’re immediately offset by the wide, sweet grin of his mouth as he addresses the crowd. You can hear that he’s nervous by how hard he’s trying to keep his voice even, and it’s enough to make you feel the flutter of butterfly wings in your throat.

As you pick your drink back up for another sip, you can’t help but wonder if Jin can literally see the hearts in your eyes, or a nervous little teardrop floating above your head like an anime character. You do your best to hide your smile behind your glass.

“J-Hope is pretty cool, huh?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, answering Jin’s question with a shy nod.

Hoseok descends the stage as the lights lower, and then the album intro is starting and there’s no more time for conversation. You watch from across the room as he drops down on the large built-in stairs next to Jungkook, who immediately wraps a supportive arm around his waist while Hoseok laughs like he’s embarrassed. You’ve always been in total awe of the way Hoseok can light up and command the energy of a room easily, then squirm away from it at the next second.

Jin gets waved over and gives you a small nod as he departs, and then you’re alone again with the champagne in your hand and the wall against your back and Hoseok’s music thrumming through your nervous system.

The album is nothing like you expected– you didn’t know what to expect, really– and you absolutely love it. You’ve always felt like you have a stupidly limited vocabulary when it comes to talking about music, particularly around Hoseok, but even you can manage to string together the thought that these songs are fucking special.

But then again, so is he.

In what feels like the blink of an eye Hoseok is taking the stage again to giggle through his thanks, bent slightly at the waist in overwhelmed appreciation, and then the pop playlist is switched back on and the lights are dimmed and you suddenly feel your palms start to slick up against your champagne flute.

You can’t help but wonder what the fuck you’re supposed to do now.

The obvious choice would be to finally go talk to Hoseok, but of course, he’s the man of the hour, so every other person in the room seems to have the same idea. You choose to hang back and watch as he weaves through the growing crowd, putting on a bored expression to pose for pictures, laughing excitedly as people shake his hand and speak to him in hushed tones, and flashing thumbs ups and peace signs left, right and center.

It looks exhausting, you think to yourself with a small smile. And this is why you’re not famous.

For the second time tonight someone manages to sneak up on you, and this time it’s accompanied with a gentle call of your name. You nearly drop your drink as you whip around.

When you find yourself face-to-face with Park Jimin, it takes a few seconds for you to remember how to close your mouth. What is going on?

“I thought that was you.”

You double-blink, unable to find any words at all. You have never met this man before in your life. Seen him dozens of times on your TV screen, sure, but certainly never formally introduced.

“I’m Jimin,” he says, and you have to swallow the urge to giggle in his face because, yeah, no shit.

“Hi, Jimin.”

“Hoseok is going to be excited that you’re here.” Jimin scrunches his face up a little, like he knows he shouldn’t be telling you this. “He kept asking me if I thought you would show or not. He really wouldn’t shut up about it.”

You find yourself stammering again, trying to figure out how the hell to respond. Why, out of everyone on the guest list, would Hoseok be concerned about you? And he’s talked to Jimin about you enough for him to know who you are, that he can recognize you on sight alone? Your head starts to spin, despite the fact that you’re only halfway through your glass of champagne.

“Since you don’t like parties,” Jimin says, like it’s common knowledge, as if it’s totally normal for this very busy and famous kpop idol to keep tabs on your socialization preferences.

You nod dumbly. “I, yeah. I’m just not very good at them.”

Jimin nods, pushing up the sleeves of his white Chanel sweater. “You just have to get comfortable with talking to people about boring shit. Did you try the food?”

You shake your head– the very thought is enough to make you feel a little sick. “I get, like, a nervous stomach?” You hate that it comes out like a question when it clearly isn’t.

“Aish, you and Hoseok are so alike,” Jimin rolls his eyes, hands on hips, but you can see he’s smiling a little. “I haven’t been able to get him to eat anything all day. And we ordered so much food, I don’t even know why. Like half the people in this room aren’t on fucking diets.”

“Jimin-ah!”

Both of your heads snap up at the sound of Namjoon’s voice from the other side of the room, distorted slightly by the thudding bass.

“Ahh, they’re doing pictures,” Jimin says with an exaggerated sigh, like it’s just so hard being desirable and photogenic. “Do you want to get a photo?”

You shake your head as emphatically as possible. “No, nope, absolutely not.”

Jimin pauses, squinting at you for a second in a way that makes you think that if you were closer friends, he’d be dragging you across the room regardless of your answer to the question. You watch as he clearly attempts to restrain himself.

“Well, don’t drink too much on an empty stomach, okay? I’ll make you a to-go plate of food before you leave.” He starts to walk backwards away from you, raising his voice a little so you can still hear him. “And please talk to Hoseokie when we’re done! Maybe then he’ll calm the fuck down!”

You can’t hide the smile that blooms across your face, and Jimin wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis before turning around and pressing his way through the crowd to the photo wall.

The members take turns passing Hoseok around, punctuated by the snap of the camera: pinching his cheeks, leaning into him, clinging to his shoulders, wrapping an arm around his neck. You laugh out loud when Taehyung hikes a leg up high on Hoseok’s hip and tips back, a hand draped across his forehead, eyes shut, so fucking dramatic.

Hoseok stares down the camera like a professional, only to immediately dissolve into giggles between shots, tongue poking out between his teeth like he can’t quite handle all the attention. It’s enough to have you nearly fighting for your life.

The members crowd in for a few group shots, posing cutely until Jimin finally waves everyone back off to the dancefloor. He keeps Hoseok behind with one hand gripping his bicep, and your heart drops into your stomach when Jimin leans in to whisper something in Hoseok’s ear.

Oh, fuck.

You try to calm yourself down, reasoning that he could be talking about any number of important things, but then Jimin pulls Hoseok’s sunglasses off his face, turns him unmistakably in your direction, and gives his shoulders a hard push. It’s clear Hoseok doesn’t quite know where he’s going as he stumbles forward and squints at the party lights, so you throw back the last of your champagne for some assistance, set the empty flute on a table, and force yourself to be brave.

You run your palms nervously over the sides of your dress, trying to focus on the feeling of smooth satin as you cross the room to meet him.

“Hobi.” His eyes find yours and you watch as his face, still in party mode— all perfect straight lines and severe grace and supermodel apathy— softens, brightens.

“Oh thank god, you made it,” Hoseok huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Come here.”

He pulls you in for a hug, not the lazy one-armed greetings you’ve seen celebrities give each other all night but a real, solid embrace, both arms crossed firmly over the small of your back. You press your nose into the crook of his neck, the thin fabric of his tank top brushing against your skin. Heat radiates off of him in waves, and he smells so good, like expensive cologne. It’s dizzying.

“Hi,” you murmur, and it’s punctuated with a soft giggle when you realize you’re speaking directly into his collarbone. You move to extract yourself, but his grip tightens.

“Five more seconds,” Hoseok says with another half-laugh, and you gladly allow yourself to melt back into his arms.

He sounds slightly hoarse, you notice, probably from talking all night. You think for easily the millionth time that you have no idea how he does it, but this moment of softness makes you wonder if being the life of the party is a little more difficult than he lets on.

Hoseok hums a little, and the feeling rumbles through your chest, buzzing all the way down to your fingertips like an electric current. When he finally releases you, it’s with a soft sigh, something that almost sounds like reluctance. Your heart backflips at the thought.

The lights flash waves of rainbow color over his face, each one painting his perfect features with a slightly different energy: pink, blue, orange, green. You momentarily forget how to talk, but Hoseok doesn’t miss a beat.

“Are you having fun?”

You nod as decisively as you can. “I’m just awkward, but that’s not your party’s fault.” He giggles, gaze flitting nervously around the room, as you continue. “Seriously, it’s a great party. And I’m not just saying that because you have free booze.”

“Did you want more?” He asks quickly, then seems to think better of it. “Or, well, how much have you had? Do you need water?”

You smile a little despite yourself. “I’m fine, Hobi, thank you. You have better things to do tonight than look after me because I nursed a single glass of champagne. And besides, Jimin already tried to mother hen me earlier.”

A look of serious anguish crosses Hoseok’s face, and he glances back over his shoulder, but Jimin has evaporated into the crowd of beautiful people. “God, I specifically told him to leave you alone.”

You shrug. “It’s not a big deal. He was sweet.”

Hoseok’s gaze lands back on you, and it feels like your chest lights up from the inside out. You almost can’t look directly at him– it’s not unlike staring into the sun. You blink up at him once, twice, more than dazed, and then he laughs again, nose scrunching slightly as if to cringe at himself.

“Agh, I feel awkward. I don’t know what to say.”

You’re smiling, too. “That’s okay,” you say, because it is. You’re perfectly content to just stand here with him, unconcerned with the chaos of the party around you.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“And– well, I guess you’ve never been here before, right? Can I give you a tour? I can take you downstairs and show you my studio.”

Your cheeks start to burn from all the questions, from how fixed his gaze is on you. It’s overwhelming. “Hobi, this is literally your party. You should stay here. I was doing fine holding up the wall over there.”

“Come on, I really want to. Please?” He leans in towards you slightly, glancing around as if to make sure he’s not being overheard. When he speaks into your ear, his voice drops to a lower register for privacy, and you can’t ignore the chills that dot up your spine. “I can’t talk to one more person that isn’t you right now.”

You nod, every nerve ending in your body now hyper-aware of how very close he is to you. “If you’re sure. I’d like that.”

“Thank you,” he says softly, and you breathe a soft giggle at how ridiculous it is that he’s the one thanking you at this moment. Before you even realize what he’s doing, his hand finds your hand, delicate fingers intertwining with yours. The skin of his palm is soft and warm. “Let’s go.” He chases the words with a gentle squeeze.

Hoseok leads you into the elevator and presses the button for a lower floor. You’re a little surprised when he slumps back against the wall with a heavy sigh as the doors close, still holding your hand.

“Oh, I’m tired.” He says quietly, almost like he’s talking to himself rather than to you. “It just hit me now. That was a lot.”

You squeeze his hand back, and his eyes flutter open to look at you. You press yourself up against the wall next to him. “You sound like me after any social event. And here I was thinking all night that you made it look so easy.”

Hoseok smiles. “I’m good at faking it. But I always collapse after stuff like this.” His eyes drift away from you and he stares into the empty space in front of him, his expression darkening slightly. “I just really hope they liked it. It’s so hard to tell what people think, or who’s only bullshitting you when they tell you it’s good. I’d rather they be honest with me.”

“Well, if it means anything, I loved it.” You say softly, your eyes searching his face. “And I’m not a bullshitter.”

Hoseok blinks, then nods once, his eyes not meeting yours. “You’re not. I appreciate that.”

The chime of the elevator seems to snap him somewhat out of his headspace, and he tugs on your joined hands to pull you through the doors as they slide open. “It’s just at the end of the hall.”

There’s something about Hoseok that comforts you all the way to your core, laps gently at the edges of your shyness until it recedes a bit. He just makes you feel like you can say anything without fear of judgment. Conversation comes easier with him, like this.

“How do you feel about it?”

“The album?” He asks.

You shrug. “Everything.”

“I’m very nervous,” Hoseok answers immediately with a bright peal of laughter, squeezing your hand again for emphasis. “I’m working really hard but… it all feels like uncharted territory. It’s so different to do it alone.”

His eyes jump from studio door to studio door as he leads you down the hallway. “I don’t know if people are going to like this side of me or the things I have to say. I don’t know if anyone will still care now that it’s just me. And ugh, I’m so unsure about the music festival. I’ve never done a whole show on my own before. I practice so much every day and I still don’t know if I can do it. Or if it will be any good.”

When he stops you outside of the final door at the end of the hallway, he seems to remember himself. “Wow, look at me. You were probably only being polite and I threw so much at you. This is just what goes around in my head. Every day and every night.”

“You sound stressed,” you say softly.

Hoseok purses his lips for a second. “I guess. I just really want to do well. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I would– what?”

It isn’t until he asks the question, regarding you with a confused expression, that you realize you’re shaking your head. The smile that has crept across your face is a mixture of disbelief and appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you’re practically laughing. “Please, keep going.”

“No, no, what is that face?”

You chew on the corner of your lip, trying to figure out the best way to word it. “I just… I don’t want to dismiss your concerns, because I absolutely understand all of them. And I would be shitting a brick, no question. But you…” Hoseok’s eyes widen a little as you pause, drinking him in, the way concern tugs down the corners of his mouth. “You just have no idea. No idea what it’s like to watch you from out here. And I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

He pauses as if to consider your words. “What do you see?”

You don’t even have to think about the answer. It feels as steady and honest as the beat of your heart behind your ribs. “I see a fucking star. I see somebody who was born to do exactly what he’s doing. And, I mean, I think being nervous is a good thing, and I don’t say this to try and invalidate how you’re feeling at all. But I don’t see any possible future where you don’t succeed, Hoseok. It’s just... not an option. You’re going to get up there and kill it, I know you are. Because it’s you.”

Hoseok’s hand slips out of yours, and you can feel the warmth of his palms as he presses them to your waist to pull you close. Anticipation sparks through you. His eyes search yours intently, like he’s looking for something. “You really feel that way?”

“Completely. There’s no doubt in my mind.” Your gaze drops to his mouth, the way his full lips are parted slightly, and it occurs to you that maybe you’re talking about more than one thing now. “It feels predestined, to me… I don’t know. Inevitable.”

Hoseok makes a soft noise as he continues to close the distance between you. “Inevitable?” You tilt your chin up towards him, every cell in your body humming. “Like this?”

The way he kisses you is so gentle and sweet, you swear your heart leaps into your throat. You allow a second, maybe two, to move your mouth against his and get lost in it, and then you force yourself to break away, your mind reeling.

“I’m sorry,” he says automatically. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

“Hoseok,” you murmur, eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to navigate the discomfort of being vulnerable. “I– you should know that I really, really like you.”

“Really?”

The shock in his voice makes your eyes snap open again, and you can’t help but make a face of utter disbelief. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t realize how other people see me. You’re actually very hard to read.” Hoseok slips one hand off of your waist to push down on the door handle behind you, then gestures for you to step through. He keeps talking as he follows in after you, letting the door shut behind him. “I second-guess myself all the time with you. Jimin is so fucking tired of hearing about it.”

“Wow,” you say dumbly. “I had no idea.”

“You didn’t even text me back about tonight! I had no idea if you were coming.”

You start to laugh as the realization washes over you: you’d been so busy sighing forlornly and stressing about what to wear, you’d forgotten to actually reply to his messages.

“Okay, this time was actually an accident. But…” You sweep your gaze over his studio, trying to think. “I don’t know, I just always feel like I’m bothering you. Your life is so big and important. Even now: you should be upstairs being the star of your own party. Not down here with me.”

Hoseok shakes his head immediately. “I don’t want to talk to anyone up there the way I want to talk to you. I was such a wreck today when you didn’t answer.”

You can’t believe what he’s saying, even as he takes a step in towards you, his mouth invitingly close to yours again. “Why? I am quite literally the least important person on the guestlist.”

“Because,” Hoseok pauses for a second, then sighs. “I like you, and I was scared that you’d decided not to come, when I…” He’s practically grinning, and the tell of his scrunched up nose makes you realize– he’s embarrassed. “I threw this whole party just to have an excuse to see you.”

Your jaw drops open. “You what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

“Hobi.” You both start to laugh as you stare in disbelief, trying to process the most ridiculous statement you’ve ever heard in your life. “You could have just called me.”

“I tend to overthink these things.”

He’s close enough that you barely have to move to slide your hands up his chest and grip the lapels of his white button-down.

“I think I can help with that,” you murmur, and then you tug him back down into a kiss that makes your head spin.

The sweet nervousness of your first kiss has been replaced with urgency now, Hoseok’s mouth moving over yours like he’s hungry for it. You tug gently on your fistfuls of his shirt to move him towards you, stumbling backwards until you find purchase against the door of the studio.

Hoseok moves skillfully, tongue licking into your mouth while one of his strong thighs shifts to tease your legs apart and press between them. The quick succession of the two is enough to make your breath hitch, and it seems to encourage him more. The rough denim of his jeans grinds into your center, and your already-short dress has ridden up enough that the pressure drags hot sparks right over your core.

Your jaw goes slack as your focus slips, and you tip your head back against the door with a soft whine, circling your hips for more friction. “Fuck, Hoseok.”

His lips drop down to the exposed skin of your neck. The warmth of his mouth has your back arching, your nipples rubbed into stiff peaks under the thin fabric you couldn’t wear a bra with.

“You look so fucking good tonight,” Hoseok groans. “Driving me crazy in this little dress.”

There’s the soft brush of a hand on your thigh, and he teases the hem of your dress up higher and higher as your hips keep moving; his tongue darts out to lick a languid stripe over your collarbone. His other hand slides up from your waist to cup your breast over satin, deftly rolling the bud of your nipple between his long fingers, pinching with just enough pressure to coax a moan out of you.

“I like the sounds you make. Don’t want you to be shy with me.” Hoseok murmurs over your skin before he starts to suck deliberately at your neck, right on your pulse point. You couldn’t stifle the sound his mouth pulls from you even if you wanted to.

With all your attention drawn to grinding your clit against his leg and the warmth of his palm cupping your breast, your grip on the fabric of his shirt has loosened. Moving in a haze of pleasure, your hands fumble at his denim jacket, attempting to push it down his shoulders. Hoseok pulls back slightly when he realizes what you’re doing, though his fingers still lazily squeeze at your nipple.

“Let me just– hang on–” Hoseok untangles himself from you entirely with a sheepish grin, and you take the moment to collect yourself, your chest heaving in shallow breaths. You can feel the way your panties are soaked through as you press your thighs together, desperate for continued friction.

He’s moving quickly as he slips out of his oversized jacket and button down beneath it. You can clearly see the wheels in his head turning as he lays the pieces over the back of his desk chair, then immediately scrunches his face up as if to think better of it.

“Agh, sorry, sorry, one second–” Hoseok shakes out the jacket, then the shirt, folding both in quick yet precise succession before stacking the neat rectangles together and gently setting them on the small couch next to his desk.

Even in the dim studio lighting you can see his face is flushed pink with embarrassment as he returns to press you back against the door.

“I just– I don’t want wrinkles,” he says softly, and you’re very grateful that you no longer have to suppress the urge to take his face in your hands and kiss him.

“I like you so much,” you giggle into his mouth, and it’s punctuated with a squeak when his hands slide down to firmly grab your ass. The fabric of your dress is so thin that it hardly feels like it’s there at all.

Hoseok must have the same thought, because he releases his grip only for as long as it takes to push the skirt of your dress up over your ass; now there’s nothing separating his fingers from your skin when he squeezes you again.

“Like you,” he agrees, his voice husky. “Want to taste you.” Your core aches for his touch, clenches around nothing when he releases his grip and cracks a hand over the soft flesh of your asscheek.

“Please, Hobi.”

You find his mouth with yours again for a needy taste of a kiss, tongues sliding together. Your arms wrap around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer.

In one swift move he presses you flush against the door, and his hands slip to hitch your legs over his waist before moving back to your ass, hoisting your hips up to properly straddle him. You whimper at the grind of his erection through his jeans, right over your rubbed-sensitive center, and at the thought that he could fuck you just like this, up against this door.

Hoseok’s mouth doesn’t leave yours as he turns and carries you the short distance across the room, hands sliding to your hips so he can set you down on the desk. His lips are full and kiss-bitten red when he pulls back to look at you, pupils blown dark with lust.

“Sure this is okay?”

You meet his gaze, reaching up to dust strands of hair out of his eyes. His mouth chases the heel of your hand so he can press those soft lips into the center of your palm, chaste and sweet.

“It’s so much more than okay,” you murmur.

He’s smiling as he leans forward for another kiss, only pulling back to press his forehead to yours once you’re both breathless. “I have wanted to do this for so fucking long. You have no idea.”

His hands hook under the backs of your thighs to scoot you gently forward until you’re perched at the very edge of his desk, and then he sinks to his knees. Your legs that were slipped around his waist find new purchase thrown over his shoulders and you tense a little when your high heels scrape over his back.

“I can take these off,” you start, but he’s already shaking his head as his palms encourage your thighs apart.

“I like it.”

You’re nearly gasping for breath with anticipation as his long fingers slip under the band of your panties and you lift your hips up so he can pull them down. You manage to extract one leg to drape back over his shoulders, leaving the lacy fabric to dangle off the other as you open up for him.

Hoseok’s thumbs press to either side of your pussy, gently spreading your lips apart to admire how soaked you already are. Anyone else examining you like this would have you squirming away self-consciously, but there’s just something about Hoseok that’s different. You want him to know every part of you fully, intimately.

“God, you are so gorgeous.” His breath is hot over your skin, makes your cunt tighten needily as if to beckon him closer.

You lean back to brace your forearms on the desk behind you and Hoseok’s gaze jumps up to meet yours. He doesn’t drop eye contact as he leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to your slit, both of you groaning at the contact.

His mouth moves just as it did against yours, and you let your eyes flutter closed as pleasure sears through you like a hot knife. Hoseok grunts a little, low in his throat when he adds tongue to his kisses, licking softly but deliberately to part your slick folds.

“Hobi,” you whine, rolling your hips up into him as he starts to apply more pressure with his tongue. “Fuck, ah, feels so good.”

Hoseok pulls off of you with a throaty gasp, like maybe he was so focused on eating you out that he didn’t quite remember to keep breathing. When you look down at him, his lips are wet and glossy, spread in a wide smile. “You taste so fucking good.”

You don’t even have time to ask for more before he’s hooking his biceps around your thighs and tugging your hips towards him, pulling you even closer to bury his face between your legs. This time he licks a stripe straight up to your swollen clit, pulling the bud into his mouth to suck on.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, digging your nails into the desk beneath you as sparks shoot through you and your clit twitches in his mouth.

Hoseok hums steadily around you, as if to once again encourage you to be vocal. He starts to nod his head as he sucks, his nose pressed flush against your pubic bone. Your hips fall in time with his rhythm, grinding back down on him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whimper. “Shit, Hobi.” Your voice catches on a dazed, disbelieving laugh. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.”

He doesn’t let up, squeezing his grip on your thighs that much tighter when you start to quiver beneath him. Your arousal coils tight and hot in your core as he works more not-so-shy noises out of you, breathy moans, needy whines.

You cling desperately to the edge of his desk, teetering equally on the edge of your own release. The wet slick wash of his tongue is lush, decadent, lapping at your clit between pulses of suction, and it’s all too fucking much.

“Yes, Hoseok, fuck!”

You cry out, your heels digging into the hard plane of Hoseok’s back as he works an intense, shuddering orgasm out of you. Your cunt throbs over and over as you come, a rush of arousal painting the crux of your thighs.

When you catch your breath it’s in uneven, shaky gasps, and the movement of your hips sharpens into jolts as you become hypersensitive to Hoseok’s mouth. He releases you almost reluctantly, still hovering close, continuing to dart his tongue out to gently lick up your folds.

“I don’t want to stop,” he says with a shy, blossoming laugh, the light catching the shine of his lips and chin when he glances up at you.

You’re dazed, beyond blissed out, unable to believe that any of this is real. You like him so much.

“Can I keep going?”

Just that sentence is enough to make you tighten all over again with anticipation. “I–” you laugh a little too despite yourself. “I want that. But I think my clit needs a second.”

Hoseok’s touch is featherlight as he circles a digit lower, over your entrance, as if to ask permission. “What about here?” Your pussy lips twitch even under so gentle a touch, but you ache for more; you like that it’s overwhelming.

“Yeah, yes. There, please, fuck,” you babble. He’s added a second finger to tease now, and you whimper when they finally press together into your sensitive cunt.

Hoseok is watching his fingers intently, and you can hear the way your pussy squelches as he pumps them slowly, can feel the tremors of your orgasm still shuddering through you, causing slick to drip from your center. You can only imagine what his view must be like, how you must look: dripping, needy, trembling for him, fingers gripping the desk and head lolling back.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft, and then he dips his head down to lap below your entrance, tasting the juices that have leaked out of you. He pulls back to smack his other hand over your whole cunt, light enough that you barely feel the tap, but just the visual of it makes you squirm beneath him.

“So cute,” he smiles. His fingers rub circles into your front wall, becoming more insistent, and you breathe in shaky waves as you start to grip tightly around him.

“Hoseok,” you breathe, letting your eyes drop closed. Arousal blossoms through you like a heavy weight, your second climax already building, when you feel his other hand cup the join of your ass and thigh.

A soft whimper spills out of you as Hoseok starts to massage below your entrance, thumb working at a new bundle of nerves, like nothing you’ve ever felt. It’s pleasure that makes you hot all over, makes the muscles in your legs shiver and tense when it’s paired with the crook of his fingers still working your pussy.

“Fuck,” you pant, “Hobi, what are– that feels so–” You’re starting to lose a grip on your words, sentences going incoherent as your head spins. It’s hard to think over all the sensation, the way your body is lit up like a live wire, and the sound of your cunt gushing around him as he fucks into your g-spot.

“Has anyone touched you here before?” He asks softly, thumb tapping at the thin bridge of skin between your pussy and your ass. His head dips down for a chaste kiss there, then a second, adding a languid lap of tongue.

“N-no,” you whimper, toes curling in your shoes as he continues to drag his tongue over this delicate, sensitive place. “Keep going.”

Hoseok pulls back, a string of saliva still connecting him to you, and he lets it loose with a swipe of his hand over his mouth. His fingers slip out of you as he pairs a question with a smile. “Turn over for me?”

Your legs would be shaking even if you weren’t in fancy party heels, and you do your best to be graceful as you unsteadily spin, one arm keeping the fabric of your dress hiked up over your hips.

“Brace yourself on the desk,” Hoseok instructs, and you do, leaning forward until your stomach and forearms are flush with the wood, your bare ass hanging off the desk, presented for him. You spread your legs apart again and can feel the way your pussy drools arousal down your thighs. “That’s it,” he coaxes.

His fingers massage firmly into the flesh of your asscheeks, and your back arches up as you groan at the feeling. He spreads you just a little, enough for cool air to tease at your slick center; your hips wiggle towards him on instinct.

“Pretty back here, too,” he murmurs. “Tell me how it feels, okay? Won’t do it if you don’t like it.”

You clench for him in both places, even your fists grip tight in the fabric of your dress. “I’ll like it. Please, baby.”

“Baby,” Hoseok repeats back with a shy exhale. “I like that. I like you.” He leaves a sweet kiss pressed halfway up your thigh.

“Hobi–” you choke out a whine of his name as his breath ghosts over you, hands still firmly keeping you spread. His tongue returns to your perineum again, licking a hot, slow stripe that keeps moving up, up, until you feel the tease of warmth and wetness over your ass. “Oh, fuck.”

You’re so sensitive here, just the lightest drag of his tongue over your rim makes you moan, feet kicking listlessly as pleasure shudders through you.

“It’s good–” you manage to whimper, voice muffled slightly as your forehead drops against the desk, too, your whole body pinned down by his mouth. “–ngh, really good, Hobi.” Your cunt throbs when he does it again, as he falls into a consistent pace of long, steady laps that set off fireworks behind your eyes.

The ache in your core begs for touch, friction, and you oblige needily, tucking a hand under the weight of your hips pressed into the desk, a sweat-slicked palm for your mouth-wet clit.

Hoseok doesn’t miss a thing. It’s only for a second that he pulls off of you, but you whine at the loss of his tongue, sated slightly by the gentle brush of his lips over the small of your back. “Gonna get yourself off while I eat you out?”

You grind a circle down with your hips, hissing at the white-hot pulse against your hand. “Yes, baby, please.”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement to dive back in, fingers gripping harder to spread you and tongue licking deliberately, tracing patterns that work more arousal out of your pussy. You’re unraveling fast from humping against your palm, hips jolting forward to make your clit twitch and backwards to press towards Hoseok’s mouth.

You’re already wound so tight that you’re too desperate for words, reduced instead to little breathless gasps– “ah, ahh”– as you speed up the rub of your hand, your hips. Hoseok’s tongue never falters, firm pressure laved over and over your sensitive, flexing ass.

With a soft hum of effort, you feel him press a little harder, tongue barely dipping in past your tight ring of muscle, and the sweet stretch of it is the final push you need.

You roll your clit just right over your palm a final time and then you’re shaking and moaning as everything starts to pulse. The all-over clench pushes a fresh wave of fluid from your cunt, rolling down the backs of your thighs, fat droplets of arousal that Hoseok chases with sloppy kisses as the waves of your orgasm shudder through you.

It takes a moment before you can say anything, do anything, limbs too heavy and brain too fucked-out dumb. You do your best to slide gracefully off the desk, but your legs shake with aftershocks that betray you, and you stumble.

Hoseok is quick to wrap his arms around you and guide your hips down to the floor next to him. You collapse in a heap of giggles, him tangled over your waist, the skirt of your dress still pushed up, your bare ass on his studio carpet.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok laughs, and you bury your face in the fabric of his tank top as an answer, not convinced your coherency has returned to you yet.

“Too good,” you murmur, words slurring. “Fucked me too good.”

“You’re so hot.” You can tell he’s blushing just by the tone of his voice, and you start to come to a little, slow-blinking back to reality and rolling over to look up at him. His dark eyes shine as he smiles. You don’t want to come all the way down from this dazed, happy place yet, you realize, and you curl a finger into the loop of his jeans, tugging him closer.

“My turn.” Your hands start to fumble to undo his belt buckle. His jeans are oversized, but not enough to obscure the print of his hard cock pressed against his thigh.

“Let me take you home,” he says softly, running a fingertip along your jaw. “This should be– I want you to be comfortable. I want it to feel good.”

“It all feels good,” you say earnestly, sitting up to tug at the button of his jeans, undeterred. “And you can take me home. But you’ve been so good to me, Hobi.” You manage to work his fly open, and you lift your gaze to meet him. “Let me be good to you.”

You resume your work, wriggling Hoseok’s jeans down his thighs until his hands cover yours and he takes over, stripping himself of his shoes as well. He reaches back between his shoulder blades to pull his tank top over his head, and your eyes sweep over his body, taking in his lithe figure and smooth, hard muscles. You trail the tips of your fingers down the defined lines of his chest.

“Fuck,” Hoseok starts to smile self-consciously, one hand drifting over his dick straining against tight black briefs with a slightly darker spot in the center where he’s left a kiss of precum on the fabric. “I don’t have any condoms here.”

You sit up on your knees in front of him, considering this. “Use my mouth.” The high of your orgasm has subsided enough now that you’re not quite shameless anymore, and heat blooms in your face as you continue. “Like, fuck my throat.”

He tries and fails to suppress a groan, and his delicate hands reach to cup either side of your face, thumbs rubbing circles into the hinge of your jaw. “You–” he laughs softly. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I mean it,” you say simply.

“But you really want to?”

You nod, half play-acting your shyness now, letting your lashes flutter as you blink up at him. “I’ve done it before. I like it.”

“Fuck,” Hoseok breathes. “I want to do everything you like.”

“Please?” You ask sweetly, and Hoseok is already getting to his feet, one hand still cupping your jaw.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “So pretty when you beg to suck my cock.” You’re smiling, your fingers slipping under his waistband to slide his briefs down his legs.

“Take your dress off, baby,” Hoseok instructs as he steps back to finish pulling off his underwear. “Don’t wanna ruin it.”

You do as you’re told, staying on your knees to pull it over your head, your heart squeezing again when he takes it from you and treats it as gently as his own clothes. It’s oddly domestic to watch him fold the smooth fabric with shaking hands, naked except for his jewelry, his hard dick leaking against his stomach.

When he turns back to you, you take the opportunity to properly admire him. His cock is as flushed and gorgeous as the rest of him, thick and dripping wet from his tip. You duck down to press a kiss to the sensitive spot under his head, then slide your lips up to gloss over his slit, slicking your mouth with his precum.

You look up at him, hands gripping the backs of his thighs; Hoseok’s eyelids are heavy with lust as he watches you work, tongue toying at the corner of his mouth. He groans a little as you pop just the head into your mouth and swirl your tongue over it, tasting the salt of him.

His hand slides to the back of your head, tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck, and his adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows.

“Tap my foot if you need to stop.” Hoseok’s voice is quiet but firm, and his socked toes wiggle, brushing against your knee pressed into the carpet. “Okay?”

You hum your acknowledgement and maintain eye contact as he holds you still and slides his cock into your mouth. He starts off at a gentle pace, and you hollow your cheeks around him, pressing your tongue flat so it drags over his shaft as he starts to pump in and out of you.

As much as you want him in control, there’s a part of you that can’t help yourself– you lean forward, eyes fluttering closed, wanting to prove to him how much you can take. The head of his cock starts to stretch down your throat and you focus on breathing steady through your nose, your muscles jumping around him in a half-swallow.

“Fuck,” Hoseok groans, his voice dark and rough-edged. You can feel drool starting to leak out of your mouth, and the mess just makes it better. “You take it so well.”

His hips keep rolling, withdrawing his cock into the heat of your mouth only to push it back down the tight clutch of your throat. It gets easier as he starts to move faster, the weight of him pressing bright on your gag reflex in shorter and shorter bursts. It’s just enough to make tears well up in your eyes. They eventually spill over, staining your cheeks until your face is slick and wet, like the sounds of him hitting the back of your throat, all of it obscene and hot.

The hand in your hair tightens as he pulls you all the way down on his shaft until your nose is flush with his abdomen and your throat bulges, filled with him. He holds you there, eyes roaming hungrily over your face.

“You look so sweet with my cock down your throat, baby.”

The hum of agreement you try makes you gag a little, and he quickly releases, pulling out to let you gasp for air. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you smile up at him, dazed, and catch your breath.

“Was that too much?” His brows pinch together slightly with concern. You wipe a hand over your nose and shake your head.

“I want more, Hobi,” you purr, moving your face back towards his dick. You lean forward to lazily drag your tongue up his shaft for emphasis. “Want you to come on my face,” you admit as you fix your gaze on him.

You swear you feel his knees almost buckle when you take him in your mouth again.

“You are so fucking sexy,” Hoseok practically growls, hand returning to the nape of your neck. He pushes himself back down your throat and starts to pick up the pace. You want him all and take it easily now, drool slicking your neck and chest when you swallow around his length.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, and you can feel his cock twitch on your tongue as he fucks roughly into your mouth, chasing his orgasm. “Oh my god.”

Hoseok’s grip on your hair goes slack and he pulls out, hand pumping fast over his drool-glossed cock. He tips his head back, exposing the column of his throat with a heady whine when he starts to come. You’re up on your knees and ready for it, nose bumping his fist, face presented for him to paint. Warm spurts of cum hit your cheeks, tongue, lips, and you giggle a little as you try to hold still, as he makes another throaty grunt of effort and release.

“Shit,” he hisses as the movements of his hand slow, as he works out the last of it, stray drips already trailing down your neck, between the valley of your breasts. “Fuuuck.” His breathing is ragged, and you press a wet kiss to the tip of his dick as he recovers.

He’s clearly already focused on the mess he’s made of you, spinning in a dazed semi-circle before reaching to grab a box of tissues off of the desk. His bare knees thud on the carpet as he sinks down next to you.

You’re surprised when he leans in to kiss you, humming softly against your mouth, tongue even darting out to lick at the cum that drips off your lips. You smile into it, teeth gently grazing over his bottom lip.

“Hi,” he huffs a laugh as he leans back. “Was that okay? Not too much?”

You shake your head. “I liked it,” you say again, though your voice comes out a little hoarse. “Wouldn’t have asked for it if I didn’t. I like you. I–” your breath hitches slightly with nerves, and it’s funny to you, that it’s easy to ask him to fuck your throat, but hard to talk about the bigger feelings underneath. It’s more intimate, somehow, to be earnest. “You always worry so much about everyone else. I just want to take care of you.”

“You can.” Hoseok’s voice is gentle and warm. “We both can.” He pulls a tissue loose from the box, hovering close to you. “Let me clean you up.”

You’re too blissed out to stop yourself from giggling. “You have a whole party to get back to.” You nod dumbly at the verity of your own statement as he uses tissues to wipe cum and drool off your face, tear stains and smudged makeup from your cheeks.

“This,” he swipes a thumb down over your bottom lip, chases it with another quick kiss, “was so much better than a fucking party.” He adds the last of the dampened tissues to the small pile he’s made on the floor, tilting your jaw with his hand to inspect his work, to ensure perfection as he does with everything. “But I probably don’t have much longer before people start looking for me.”

“You should go,” you say quietly, trying to ignore the drop in your stomach.

His hand slips into yours for the second time tonight. “Will you come with me? I know it’s not really your thing.”

You falter momentarily– not because you don’t want to, but you can’t shake your own self-consciousness, this sense that you don’t belong here, rubbing elbows with all these famous people. But it’s hard to feel like any of that matters with the way Hoseok is looking at you, the soft turn of his lips in a barely-there smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Very.” He gives your hand an affirming squeeze. “Do I need to remind you that this entire party is literally for you?”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes at his antics despite the laugh that bubbles up in your throat. “I still can’t believe you. What is this, The Great Gatsby?”

His laugh is high and sweet, hand untangling from yours to wrap both arms around your waist, and he pulls you into his chest, bare skin on bare skin, hearts beating together. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Hobi,” you relent. “I’ll go back with you. Besides, Jimin promised to feed me.”

You can feel Hoseok’s smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Come on, then. I promise it’ll be fun. If we get Jungkook drunk enough he’ll probably start dancing on the stage.”

“Now that I have to see.”

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts x reader #hoseok x y/n

6K notes · View notes

goldenhourwriter · 11 months

Text

•✮🕷️𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐤𝐢𝐝🕷️✮•

part one (you are here) • part two •

⋆pairing: miguel o’hara x wife!reader

⋆warning(s): i guess just fighting and some cursing. and threatening to bite someone lol. also i got translations from spanish dict, if i did something wrong, please correct me. i tried to use the right definitions/context to use those definitions in! also pregnancy.

⋆a/n: this was so fun to write! requests are open, and i am new to this blog, so hang on while i get this all figured out. requests are open, and this will be a mini series i am continuing!!

It’s not usually this quiet at the Spider Society.

It’s nice.

I walk around, humming softly to myself as I munch on a banana, a craving I usually get. I let my hand rest on my slightly swollen belly, my suit especially made to let it stretch and give the baby some room.

Yeah, ever heard of a pregnant Spider-Woman?

It happened a couple of months ago, as married couples tend to let happen. It’s twins, actually. One boy and one girl, but, my husband doesn’t know yet. Doesn’t want to know. I called the doctor anyways, and even though he threw a hissy fit that could rival a toddler, he relented and said it was fine.

And, it was kind of nice being alone. A lot of the spider-people tend to do things for me, think I’m incapable of doing things now because I’m pregnant. Even the ridiculous Spider-Man T-Rex gave me a ride through the halls. I snort at the thought, gaining some weird looks.

Obviously, I didn’t refuse. Who would pass up a ride on a freaking dinosaur?

My few 30 minutes of bliss, however, was interrupted by the beeping on my watch. I tap on it and smile when I see Lyla. She gives a wave.

“Hey, big wifey,” she teases, pushing up her pink, heart-shaped glasses. I roll my eyes. Everyone knows I hate that name. It doesn’t make me feel fat, it just makes me very aware of the two babies living inside of me, and how very uncomfortable life can really get.

“Hey, algorithm girl, what’s up?” I shoot back with sarcasm. I am met with satisfaction as she gives me a dead-pan look.

“Haha, very funny, love that,” she says sarcastically. “Your husband is struggling with an anomaly. Earth-65, some kind of Renaissance bird-man.”

I giggle at the thought. I can imagine his annoyance. “Gotcha, and did he actually call for back up?” I ask, but i already know the answer. I take another bite of my banana, shifting my weight onto my right leg. I can never stand still for too long, luckily, being a super hero can keep me moving. Keeps the babies satisfied.

She snorts at me, like i was making some hilarious, un-heard of joke. I relent, sighing and preparing my bracelet to go to the universe she said he was in.

“Alright, alright. How long do you think until he actually asks?”

“I’d give you about two minutes. He’s getting really thrown around with this one. And there’s another spider person, trying to ask him too many questions.”

My eyes perk back up to the hologram when she mentions this. “I haven’t heard of a recruit from Earth-65, is she new?” I ponder out loud. I cock my head to the side, adjusting my mask. Well, half mask. It really only covers my eyes. Lyla nods. “Yup, she’s a new one. She’s a nice kid, too.”

I smile.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Lyla logs off and I sigh, patting my baby bump. “Alright, you guys,” I whisper to my belly. I stick out my hand and the portal opens, and I jump in. I shout with joy, flying through the portal, and as I practically fall to the other end, my hair whips around.

I fall on the other end, and I groan as my hair blocks my vision. I hear grunting, crushing, wings flapping, and snappy remarks being thrown about, but I can’t see anything. I flip my hair over my head, shaking it out.

“I need a hair tie on these things,” I mumble to myself.

I look over, and I see a feminine-looking spider-hero staring at me. I give her a small wave. Her eyes are wide, I can tell. I examine her suit, which seems like it holds up pretty well. It has hood, which is new to me, and she’s wearing…are those ballet flats? I smile

“Hey, babes! You look cute!” I compliment to the get up.

She waves back again, and she looks down at my stomach. “Are you….?” She trails off. I look down, and put a hand on my hip. “Yep, I am. It’s twins, but don’t tell my husband the sexes yet. He wants to wait.” She nods, but seems to remember that she doesn’t know just who my husband is. She takes a step towards me.

“Who are you married to? Are there even more people like us?” I nod.

“My husband’s right….” I don’t even flinch as he gets thrown into the wall right in front of me, and I smile. “There.”

He groans as he slips to get up, his mask eyes squinting at me. I squint my eyes right back.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m carrying your children,” I scold. He gestured to the giant creature that hurls towards us. “I need help here!” He shouts at me. Lyla puts up on my shoulder, and we both cross our arms. He sighs, looking down.

“Please, Y/N? Sabes que no me gusta mendigar,(You know I don’t enjoy begging),“ He pleads quietly.

Vulture screeches at us. “Love truly makes me sick,” he narrates out loud, and he reaches his talons out for me. I stuck out my wrists and web up one wing, so he goes sideways, just barely missing me. He breaks free, but I web up behind him again.

“Your attitude makes me sick!” I shout at him. “You seem like the Beethoven of your area, jerky, cold, and not the greatest people-person!” I struggle to speak as I try to web him up again, but it doesn’t work. He barrels towards me, and grabs me in his talons. I hear Miguel growl and leap off the ground, landing on his back. He tugs on the man’s feathers, making him spin around to try and find him. I take the opportunity to web myself away from his grasp, kicking him away as I do so.

“Is this guy made of paper?” I ask, rubbing my hands together as I take a moment to actually register what just happened. Miguel grunts, and yells as he speaks to me from the bottom of the building. “Honey, I love your voice, but I really need you to use your actions right now!”

I spot a few witnesses trapped behind some rubble, so I shoot off the side of the wall to swoop them up. They scream, clutching onto me, and I drop them off right by a big police officer. He gawks at me, and I give him salute as Miguel webs me up again. I twist up, getting wrapped in his webbing, and I break free using a kick, hitting Vulture square in the jaw with my foot. He grunts in pain, squeezing his eyes shut, and Miguel uses this moment to try and guide him down, so he won’t escape.

I land right next to, what’s her name? I’ll learn it soon enough. I land right next to the teen as she stares at me. I smirk at her.

“What, never seen two married spiders?”

She swallows. “Can you adopt me?”

“What?”

“What? Nothing! Nothing!”

Miguel groans, and I can tell he’s growing tired. “¡Por Dios! ¿Puedes dejar de hablar por un momento? (Oh, my God. Can you stop talking for a moment?)” He calls out to me. I let out a heavy sigh, putting my hands on my knees. “I’m sorry, but your babies are making it hard to move right now!” I shout at him. Gwen webs away from me, and Miguel lands right next to me again. “Last time I checked, it took two people to make those two babies,” he grumbles. We take a moment and watch as Gwen tries to take down Vulture by herself.

I look at Miguel, and raise my eyebrows. “Did she call ya ‘Dark Garfield?’” I ask. He groans, and I can tell hair eyes shut as his head falls forward. “Yes.”

I giggle. “I like her. Maybe we can recruit-“ “No. No, we can’t, and you know why.” My somewhat playful attitude disappears with a frown, and I nod in compliance. He grabs my waist and he swings us up, and then we fall onto the Vulture back again. I scream through gritted teeth as I try to hold him down on the ground, but he flings me off, a sudden, new found strength in him.

“What the hell?” I curse. “Not cool, man!”

“This ends now,” he says to me, and he springs upward. I curse under my breath again, but it seems Miguel is on top of it. Literally.

“If he gets out, this whole universe will collapse!” He shouts, mainly at Gwen. I know the risks involved, having to save almost every universe from them every day. I shoot my wrist out, but I groan. I hit my web shooters, but nothing comes out. “Fuck-Miguel! I’m out!” I try to jump from floor to floor, but I quickly get nauseous while doing that. I look down at my stomach again, poking it. “So web slinging is fine but jumping is what doesn’t please you guys?” I ask the unborn babies. I get a mere kick in return. “I know that was the girl. That was way too sassy,” I grumble to myself.

Spider-Girl lands right beside me, and she looks at my husband and he battles Vulture. They both crash right through the glass ceiling, and we shield ourselves from the shards that could possibly cut us. She looks at me.

“What is he gonna do?” She asks. Miguel takes the Vulture’s face in his hands, and opens his mouth, wide, baring his fangs and giving a loud roar. “Oh snap,” whispers under his breath. But, he’s cut short, when a helicopter shines a light on him. He yells at the helicopter, his mask coming up again to cover his face.

“I’m a good guy! I’m here to help!” He desperately explains. My spider senses then go off, and I scream up to Miguel.

“Miguel! Watch-!“

I’m too late. Vulture throws two weapons at the helicopter, and then the helicopter starts to spin, going down, and fast.

“Shit.” All three of us say in unison.

I look to the kid, and she’s already looking at me. I nod towards her, and she returns the gesture, and we both know what that means. She launches off the floor, and she begins to web a net. I take a deep breath. “Alright, babies, don’t make me throw up,” I say sternly to my unborn babies.

I leap off the ground, and I fly through the middle of the helicopter, grabbing the two pilots and landing on the fourth floor of the building. I grunt as I roll on the ground with them, and we writhe in pain.

I turn to the both of them, checking on them, and I run to the edge, well, the mess that made the edge. I look down, and the teenage girl is flying through the air, webbing up a net. And just as the helicopter is about to crash, she flies right underneath it, just barely getting nipped by the chopper.

She lands, breathing heavily.

“Wow,” I whisper. Miguel hops a bit in front of me, landing on some rubble.

“I was gonna do that,” he says quietly to himself. I can tell he’s thinking her, thinking about her hard. Miguel and I share a glance at her, and she nods. She turns and hops down from the huge rock, and goes back towards the wall, out of sight. I turn and see the two pilots staring at me. I smile.

“Yeah, I know, there’s lots of freaky spider people, that was my reaction too. Cmon, let’s get you two a medic.” I reach down and offer my hand to them, which they take, one at a time. I help them to the big opening in the building where the door used to be, and I hand them over to some officers.

I sigh, turning around to find my husband surveying the area.

I walk up to him, putting a hand on his back, feeling his tense and rigid muscles, alert and still in attack mode. He seems to relax a little at my touch, and he lets his mask down. I grin, amusement

“Your hair is all messed up.” “Can you and I have one good moment after a battle where you don’t make fun of my hair?” “Absolutely not.”

He lets out a low growl, rolling his eyes. I walk a little in front of him, and stare at the place where the teen escaped to, hearing some grunting from there. No doubt she’s recovering on her own. My hand comes to rest on my stomach, my thumb running over the bump. I turn back to Miguel, my mouth open to speak, but he beats me to it.

“I said no,” he rejects me as he leans down to pick up some broken machinery. He scoffs at some poor excuse for art. “I’m starting to think Vulture did everyone a favor by destroying this place, this art sucks-“

“Miguel O'Hara, no cambies de tema,” I say sternly. He lets out a sigh. Spanish isn’t even my main language, so when I speak it, he knows I’m not messing around. He spins around, holding a figurine of a balloon dog in his hand. I would find it comedic, a big guy like him holding a small thing like that, but not when he’s trying to avoid my questions.

“You know we can use her. I’ve never seen anything like her, and she even beat you to one of your moves. You have to agree with me on this!” I gesture out in front of me, as if the conversation is laid out in front of us. Miguel sighs, walking up to me with his hands on his hips. His expression is hard, but his eyes give it away. He’s considering it, it helps if I’ve spent about a couple years with him now.

He brings his hand to my waist and another to my hair, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead.

“Te amo demasiado a veces,” he mumbles into my hair.

Okay, that gives me absolutely nothing.

His hand travel down to my stomach, and his two very large hands splay over my tummy. His lips quirk up a bit as one of them kicks against my skin. “Did you do okay today?” He asks quietly, referring to my very pregnant self. I nod, but it doesn’t seem to reassure him.

Vulture struggles next to us, but we just give him an annoyed look. “I’m done with your attitude!” Miguel tells him, pointing at him. He sighs, turning back to me, grabbing my waist and pulling me impossibly closer, so we’re basically sharing the same breathe. My stomach flutters. Even after marrying him, he really can have the same affect on me from when I was a new recruit.

“You know you can always opt out whenever, I can call for other backup,” he says quietly. He’s trying to spare my feelings, not letting others hear so I won’t get embarrassed. I’m never embarrassed, it’s life, I got pregnant, but I appreciate the sentiment. I lean up and kiss his nose.

“I know, thank you, but really, I’m fine.” I stick a hand up as he begins to protest. “At 7 months, I will take maternity leave. I’ll rest and just be the desk person, okay?” I ask. He debates it for a moment, and lets out a grunt and nods. We stay in our somewhat embrace for a bit, when we hear a gun shot. My head whips to where Spider-Woman went and hid, and I look at Miguel.

His mask forms again, and he kicks Vulture, telling him to be still as he picks him up. Miguel picks me up with his other arm and swings to the opening as we fall in.

“Dad, please!” She begs the cop standing across from her. Miguel shoots a containment pod at him, and she runs towards him. I grab her by the shoulders, trying to use my softest voice.

“Hey, hey, kid. Hey, it’s okay, we’re here, we got you,” I say quietly to her. She’s crying as she clutches onto my arm, staring at her dad. Miguel opens a portal, and I give the kid one more pat and walk over to him.

“What are we gonna do?” I whisper to him. He looks at me. “What do you mean?”

I roll my eyes.

“We can’t just leave her here!” I get a bit louder, but he shushes me, putting a finger up. My jaw drops.

“You did not just shush me,” I growl.

“Oh, I think I did.”

“Oh, I know you didn’t-!”

Miguel and I bicker back and forth, and at some point, Vulture voluntarily hops into the portal, all tied up, not wishing to stick around. I stick my finger up as I try to argue with him, my hand coming to my hip, and he towers over me, but that never took away my edge.

Then, some sniffling gets us to shut up.

The kid looks at us, her eyes watery and wide. She looks like what she is…a teenager who’s lost and alone. She opens her mouth to speak. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

I look slowly at Miguel, and he lets his head hang forward.

“Yeah, well….”

I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Join the club.”

🕷️ 💍

#miguel x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #spiderman 2099 #spider man #spider man into the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #miles morales #gwen stacy

729 notes · View notes

farfromstrange · 8 months

Text

Just Let Me Love You | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (f!Reader heavily implied)

Summary: You're struggling with your body image and Matt notices

Warnings: Angst, TW: allusions to an ED, self-deprecating talk (Reader has internalized fatphobia toward herself), not proof red (I was too emotional for that)

Word Count: 2.1k

A/n: So, my body is changing and I hate it. As someone who was the Fat Funny Friend growing up, I got inspired by the song. Now I wasn't sure if to tag for a plus-sized reader because when I wrote this, I had myself in mind, and I'm not even sure what "category" I fall into, so this is pretty universal and I think any of you who are struggling with body dysmorphia might appreciate this. Heed the warnings before proceeding and don't forget to eat if you haven't already! (Also, I used my tag list to tag for this, but don't read it if this triggers you, please!)

Our brains are wired to function in a certain way. But not every brain is balanced in chemistry.

For the longest time, she thought there was something seriously wrong with her. She never fit in anywhere, so she tried to make herself fit. Change her attitude, change her behavior, change her hobbies, and change the way she looks. She did it so many times, she lost count.

She relied on humor, telling funny little anecdotes to make whatever friend group she was a part of at the time laugh at her. But that was all she could do. Make them laugh. She lit up the mood, lit up the room, but she seemingly never lit up anyone’s heart the way her friends did.

They talked about their relationships, talked about their families and friends, and she played along. She listened. When she talked about her likes, they pretended to care, but within minutes, they lost interest. She thought it just wasn’t that important. Not as important as how beautiful they all were, anyway. And they were striking, she thought. That’s why everyone always chose them and never approached her. But she swallowed it to at least be a part of something.

She always helped everyone but herself. She was there when no one else was, but even when she was a part of something, she never fully fit in. There was an impossible standard looming over her head, and she couldn’t possibly reach it.

Don’t be too loud. Don’t be too silly. Don’t say no. Don’t talk about your problems, only listen to everyone else’s. Don’t believe that he wants you because he is too good for you, and all he wants is your best friend who is ten times prettier than you. And don’t believe that personality and humor will get you anywhere; you will end up miserably alone the same way people who look like you always will.

The same voice, over and over again. Word turning into knives. It was exhausting to fight against the demons within her because they just sounded so damn convincing.

When she met him, the man who stole her heart, she never thought he would ask her out. When he did, she was dumbfounded. In every possible situation, he found himself assuring her that he wouldn’t drop her for the pretty blonde in the office, or his psychotic ex-girlfriend who just happened to have the most beautiful body known to man. To her, at least. Everyone around him was just so beautiful, and he was even more so–he was the prettiest specimen in the world, and everyone desired him. Of course, she grew insecure. She couldn’t help it. It was a reflex.

She fell in love with a man who finally saw her for who she was and he loved her despite—no, he loved her regardless. For who she was. He took her, accepted her, and began seeing her as the most beautiful person in the world. For the first time, she felt appreciated, loved, and not so miserably alone.

Yet, the fear continued to linger. The fear that one day, he would notice that perhaps, a woman of average looks wouldn’t be enough for him anymore. That she was, indeed, as unconventionally unattractive as everyone said she was from the first day she actually understood what was being said to her. She was just a child then.

The funny friend. The awkward friend. The weird one. The girl without real friends. The girl with the silly clothes, the silly smile, the slightly crooked teeth, the belly pouch… The girl who lost weight, the girl who gained weight, and the girl who shouldn’t be so proud of herself because she had nothing to be proud of.

“Sweetheart?” he asked her, yanking her out of the downward spiral that only continued to get worse over time. “Did you have anything to eat yet?”

He stood in the kitchen, the sleeves of his dress shirt bunched around his elbow. It was hot outside, too hot for her liking, and even his clothes were slightly stained with sweat.

She looked up from the couch, still wrapped up in a blanket despite the high temperatures, a book resting on her thighs. He met her eyes with a smile.

“I noticed your leftovers are still in the fridge. Could smell them,” he clarified. “I was just wondering whether that was on purpose or not.”

Worrying fit it better, she thought to herself. He always worried too much.

She closed her book. “I might’ve forgotten,” she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

His eyebrows furrowed. “You forgot?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but it never reached his eyes.

“Yeah. I probably got too caught up reading or something. It’s no big deal. I’ll eat later. Or drink another latte.”

He hummed. “You know, iced coffee is not considered a healthy diet. Your body needs fuel.”

“Jesus Christ, Matt,” she raised her voice, “I’m okay!”

“You don’t look okay,” he stated as a matter of fact.

“And how would you know?”

“I just do.”

He approached, his muscles straining against his shirt. It wasn’t fair, how good he looked. How well he carried himself. And he still had the audacity to look at her and tell her she had much more going for herself than just her humor. That she was beautiful. Pretty enough.

“Hey,” Matt lowered himself on the couch beside her, “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, huh?”

“I forgot to eat, I told you,” she said.

“I don’t believe you.”

“But it’s the truth.”

“Not if you did it on purpose.”

The book landed on the coffee table and she got up, pacing the small space of their shared apartment in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen. He could hear her heartbeat pounding against her ribcage, the pent-up tears, and the tension, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out. But he waited. He gave her the space she needed to collect her thoughts.

“I forgot,” she repeated. “At first. And then I just happened to pass by a mirror and…and I looked at myself. I mean, really looked at myself.”

“Oh–” He sighed. “Baby…”

“I’m smaller when my stomach is empty, you know. And I thought it wouldn’t hurt me to, uh…cut back a little?”

He was about to respond, but she cut him off. “I don’t mean that I’m starving myself. I just…I forgot to eat, and then, when I remembered, I remembered what I saw and I was just…I’m not hungry anymore. I…I don’t think it’s a big deal. I’m not doing it on purpose, I’m just…”

She stopped pacing. She met his unfocused hazel eyes that held so much pain when he looked at her. He reached out, not saying a word, and she extended her shaky fingers toward the lifeline he was throwing.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. She realized then why he looked so hurt. “It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?”

The question hung in the room as he pulled her toward himself.

She didn’t protest when he pulled her back onto the couch, his arms engulfing her and pulling her back against his sturdy chest.

“What makes you think that you need to hurt yourself to fit some unrealistic beauty standard?” he asked softly, his voice merely a breath tickling her ear.

She whimpered, not wanting to answer.

“What makes you think that not being healthy is the solution to the way you see yourself? Wouldn’t that just make it worse?”

“I just…” She took a deep breath. “I just… I just want to be enough.”

“But you are enough,” he answered in a heartbeat, placing his hand on her neck and turning her face to him. He missed her face with his gaze, but she could still feel him in every fiber of her being as he sat there and felt her pulse, and she matched her breathing to his.

A tear rolled down her cheek. “You don’t understand what it’s like,” she whispered back. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be only seen as the comedic relief in every relationship you have ever been in while your friends pulled the guys you wanted. Because they never wanted you, and they never saw competition in you either because you were just never the center of anyone’s attention.”

He was silent for a moment. The taste of her tears reached his tongue, and he visibly recoiled at the pain she held inside of her. Matt pulled her closer, holding her a little tighter. She melted.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of leaving her to deal with her thoughts, he placed his lips against her ear again. “You’re the center of my attention,” he said. “Of my world. My universe. And I couldn’t care less about the way you look.”

“That’s because you’re blind,” she shot back, a sob rippling through her body.

He shook his head. “No. Those who reduce you to your looks are blind, and they don’t even deserve you in the first place. What matters most is this–” his large hand found its way onto the left side of her chest, above her heart. “What’s in here is what makes you beautiful, not what covers the outside.”

“But that’s not enough, is it?”

“To me, it is.”

“Not to me, Matthew. Like I said, you don’t get it.”

She struggled against his grip, but he wouldn’t let her go. “Then let me rephrase it,” he tried again, pressing his hand further against her chest. “I care more about who you are inside because I love you. But I don’t need sight to appreciate your physical beauty along with the sound of your heartbeat. Your breathing. Your touch. You know why?”

She shook her head. “Enlighten me.”

“Because I can feel you, sweetheart, and you are the most breathtaking human being I have ever had the pleasure of laying my hands on.”

If words were enough to make a person pass out, this would surely have been her breaking point.

“You mean that?” She turned around, her tears now glistening with a taste of hope.

He brushed them away with his thumb and nodded. “Every last word.”

Her eyes fluttered closed at the ghost of his touch. “I don’t like my body,” the admission came quietly.

In response, Matt nodded. “I know, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. That body deserves to be loved. You deserve to be loved.”

“I feel like…like I don’t deserve you. I don’t want you to leave me for…for Karen.”

The mention of her name caused him to frown. “Karen?” he asked. She nodded. He sighed, forcing her head to his chest, forcing her to listen to his heartbeat the same way he always did to her. “Don’t even think like that,” he told her. “I would never leave you for someone else. For no one, for nothing. I need you to stop assuming that, sweetheart. It’s not true.”

“It feels true,” she cried.

His lips brushed the crown of her head. “But it isn’t.”

“But–”

“I love you,” he said, a bit more insistent this time. “Only you. I would rather die than never be with you again. And I mean that. Bring me the poison and I’ll prove it to you. I’ll get on my knees and worship the ground you walk on if that’ll make you believe me, but I won’t leave you.”

She clung to him, her nails digging into his shirt. Matt shushed her, his fingers brushing through her hair. The rhythm was soothing.

She sobbed until she had nothing left to give. She cried because she knew he was right. She knew she was overthinking, but she was powerless to fight it. He was the only one who could open her eyes, and even then, she more often than not slipped away. She hated it. She hated the way her brain was wired, the things she was taught, and the things she continuously and wrongly kept teaching herself.

Eventually, though, she slacked in his arms.

“I don’t really like myself right now,” she confessed. “But I don’t know how to stop it.”

Matt chuckled softly, his chest rumbling. He tilted her chin up. “Then let me help you,” he said.

“How?” she asked.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a gentle kiss. “Just let me love you.”

Tagging from Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @ravenclaw617 @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #no y/n #tw: ed #matt murdock imagines #charlie cox

460 notes · View notes

ktsumu · 4 months

Text

RESOLUTIONS (this year is different) tw: alcohol consumption

This year, you wait for January in an apartment that is packed full.

You’re familiar with everyone, for the most part, all people who have played with Ushijima over the years, all people you’ve watched in one jersey or another. Everyone is laughing, happy — even Wakatoshi himself who, normally quite reserved, laughs with one of his teammates, a glass half-full in hand.

This year is different, you tell yourself.

You know that, whenever you're all drunk enough to call it a night, you’ll call a cab and go home, probably kiss on the way there. He’ll lean on the bathroom counter and giggle while you smear your makeup away with a wipe, then take it from you and do it himself. He’ll be so much worse at it, but he’ll be gentle, and you’ll let him.

This year, you’re going to let yourself be loved. You’re excited to let him.

You watch Wakatoshi from your place on the couch, a small smile on your face. Happy looks good on him; he’s handsome when he’s free. His smile gives him lines around his mouth, his eyes crinkle. His laugh is saccharine.

He doesn’t notice you’re watching, either, it’s not often he does. It’s not hard to be subtle — your eyes typically find him, anyway, golden boy wherever he goes.

This year, I’m going to let myself be loved.

You met him years ago, sort of in a situation like this. You were both in a bar in Tokyo, you think, and he stuck out like a sore thumb; freshly twenty and new to this, surrounded by teammates who made it obvious he’s never been to a bar before.

They also made it obvious he was new to a lot of things, likely why they made it so obvious in how they were jabbing his side with their elbows, nodding to you sat a few seats down. Go talk to her, she’s totally into you, she’s pretty!

(He didn’t even talk when he first sat down — you offered him a shot he probably needed and he took it.)

The rest is history.

It feels weird to think about going home. Home. You live with him, the bills get paid. He has smile lines and stretch marks on his shoulders. He’s going to take your makeup off for you because he’s seen you in every way you come. You have a house and you have a home — your friend said she thinks he might propose this year.

Growing pains are scarier when they’re not in your knees.

You only notice he’s moved when the couch sinks beside you. Wakatoshi sits next to you, a close-lipped smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and he rests a hand on your thigh.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and it’s just the two of you.

You look over his face, his flushed cheeks. You smile, too. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Wakatoshi is gentle when he guides you towards him, his hand on your nape, kissing you like you’ve never done it before. He tastes like Tennessee, and like a resolution.

This year, I’m going to kiss him more.

“I love you,” he murmurs. “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

Whatever dread you carried before, it’s going away now.

“You are?” you tease, pulling back to really look at him. An anonymous hand walks by and ruffles his hair, like he’s scoring his first girl, and carries on. He doesn’t look up.

“Very.”

“Mm,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I guess I’m glad I’m here with you, too.”

“I mean, I would hope so.”

“Hah,” you snort, “I’m excited to go home, too.”

He scoffs, as if he isn’t typically the reserved one; as if he wasn’t the one you had to convince to make a show here. “You want to get out so soon?”

“What, you’re not excited to deal with me at home?” you giggle, craning your head to look up at him. “Not excited to spend, like, a fat hour getting ready for bed?”

He snickers again, taking a sip of his drink. He squints like he drank it too quickly.

“Like last year?”

“Yup. Except, I don’t know about the last part. I’m gonna pass out the second I hit the mattress, ‘Toshi.”

“That’s okay, I’ll tuck you in.”

Your chest warms, and you both laugh. One of you starts it, but you don’t remember who.

“You’re gonna tuck me in and take my makeup off, huh?”

“Like last year,” he confirms. “And get you water — get us both water,”

“Mm, you’ll need it, big guy.”

“I am fine.”

“Yeah, I know. As long as you can see where my face is, that’s good enough for me.”

“I can find it blind,” he says simply, smoothing your hair back and out of your face. “But yes, I can see it fine.”

You smile all crooked — he tilts his head like he wants to see it upright.

“We’re gettin' older, huh ‘Toshi?”

“That is how years work, yes.”

“Going home,” you say; your thoughts are all out loud. “Going to bed.”

He smiles — he loves it. “Unless you want to stay out?”

“No, no, I want to. I’m just,” you take a deep breath, “thinking. This’ll be how many years?”

“Not enough,” he says simply. “I wanna do this forever.”

“Hah, well, I have no doubt your body could sustain years of New Years Eve parties—”

“I meant going home,” he interrupts. “Taking off your makeup, getting you water, and kissing you goodnight.”

Your heart swells to the point of being uncomfortable, the lump in your throat impossibly there. His hand hasn’t left your thigh, it hasn’t risen higher, it just sits there. His touch is warm like a swaddle, unmoving. It’s so familiar that you lean into it like you're being carried to bed.

Wakatoshi grins; it’s crooked and you tilt your head to see it upright. “Every year, I think I love you a little more.”

(The dread you had is gone now — why you ever had it, you don’t know for sure.)

This year is different, you tell yourself. This year, you’re gonna grow.

There’s a cheer throughout the room, all this laughter becoming a dull muffle when the room seems to reach the sound capacity the little space has. There’s kazoos, glass clinking, goofy hats falling to the floor — people are singing:

“Happy new year, love,” he murmurs, and he captures your lips again.

This year, I’m gonna grow.

I’m gonna let him love it, and maybe I’ll love it, too.

#not proofread but first fic of 2024 that i wrote in literally 20 minutes at best. be kind to her she's sensitive #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #tw alchohol mention #tw alcohol consumption #tw alcohol #kit writes

200 notes · View notes

qtboni · 10 months

Note

helloo boniiii (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) i hope ur doing okay todayyyy i saw that you hve ur reqs open and i have an idea!

the way chubby!reader is insecure of how she looks and Simon notices it and comforts her? bye sorry im like so bad at explaining but what would Simon do?

HELLO, BABI ! omg u got me there. im one of those peeps who gets so insecure easily 😔 and really, i want a husband like simon who can comfort me in bad times 😭 thank you for requesting this !!

╰﹒ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Chubby!Reader

OVERVIEW: Simon reassures your insecurities with loving words, and you are overwhelmed with emotions, as he makes you realize the beauty in yourself that you can't see.

C/W: Hurt/comfort! body image issues, insecurities, mentions of body dysmorphia, intimate partner relationship (emotional support), reader expressing emotions and processing trauma, reader struggles with feelings of self-worth.

Simon's car doors shut with a loud thud, echoing through the garage and signaling his departure. A small sense of relief washed over you, knowing that you would have the whole day to yourself.

No more needing to pretend to be okay when you weren't. You slowly made your way to the bathroom and leaned towards the mirror. As you gazed into your reflection, the harsh lights amplified every imperfection.

'I hate how I look,' you thought to yourself as you gazed into the mirror. Every day, you spent too long in the restroom, staring at your reflection, trying to figure out what was wrong with yourself.

Your shoulders were too wide, tummy too fat, and your cheeks were getting fuller by the day. It also doesn't help that your legs look so big on you and the way your thighs would touch together quite so much. You felt gross and ugly, and it seemed like nothing you did could make a difference.

You sighed as you cupped your cheeks, pretending to pull them behind your face. You longed to be slim and thin, or at the very least, pretty. But no matter how hard you tried, it seemed like you were doomed to be the ugly duckling for the rest of your life.

"Why did I let myself get this way?" you wondered.

Tears started to fall from your eyes as your self-pity reached new heights. You didn't understand why everyone else seemed to have it all figured out, while you were stuck here, hating yourself more and more each day.

You wondered if you would ever be able to accept yourself for who you are, or if you would forever be doomed to feel inferior to everyone around you. It was a painful feeling, and one that you struggled with every single day.

Your eyes slowly shifted towards the mirror in the restroom again, and you let out a heavy sigh. Without even really thinking, you started to pinch and pull at your skin. Your fingers zeroed in on your thighs and you frowned, unable to help but focus on the parts of your body that you didn't like.

Your hand then moved to your midsection, and you stared at your reflection in the mirror, feeling defeated. You wanted to look different, you wanted to look like the pretty girls in the magazines and on social media.

You wanted to be beautiful.

Tears started forming in your eyes again, and you brushed them away before your sobs could come after. You didn't want anyone to see you like this - didn't want Simon to see. You didn't want him to know how much you hated yourself. But it was a constant struggle, and one that you fought every single day.

You pinched the fat on your stomach, pulling it from side to side and watching as it jiggled.

"Why can't I just look normal?" you asked yourself, your voice cracking.

You moved on to your thighs, pinching the flesh that had been collecting there over the past few months.

"I look gross," you said to yourself, voice barely above a whisper. "I hate.. my body."

Tears started to pool in your eyes as you began to pull at your cheeks and the edges of your mouth, trying to pull them back to make yourself look thinner.

"I just can't stand looking like this," you said to yourself again and again, your voice catching in your throat.

But no matter how much you pinched and pulled, you couldn't make yourself look the way you wanted. The image in the mirror still looked like you – tired, fat, and flawed. You turned away from the mirror, feeling defeated and alone.

You wanted so badly to be able to pull the fat away and make your face look the way you wanted. In your mind's eye, you imagined how much better you would look if you could just lose a few pounds, if your stomach wasn't so rounded, if your thighs weren't so thick.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't seem to make a single inch of difference. The cycle of self-doubt and self-loathing was never-ending, and it seemed like you were doomed to remain trapped in your own head, unable to break free.

But then you looked down at the sink, and saw your reflection in the water, distorted and warped. You realized that in trying to fix your flaws, you had only made them worse. Your self-imposed torture was only making you hate yourself more.

It seemed like an eternity before you calmed down, your breathing slowing to a normal pace once again. However, you were still on the brink of tears.

What if Simon saw you like this? Would he still love you?

But you knew that Simon was more than just a pretty face. He was kind and gentle, and he accepted you for who you were, imperfections and all. As you stood in front of the mirror, you then stared at your reflection with a mix of sadness and frustration.

Your heart sank at the sound of a knock, and you quickly dried your tears. Then, your heart raced as your tried to compose yourself. You knew it was Simon – your husband, and the one person who understood you the most. You guys had been through a lot together, and you knew you could count on him to make everything better.

"I'm coming!" you called out, your voice shaky. You took a deep breath and smoothed down your clothes before making your way to the door.

As you opened it slowly, you saw Simon standing there, a sympathetic look on his face.

"Hey," Simon said softly, his voice full of compassion. He walked in and gave you a hug, as if he knew exactly what you needed. You hugged him back, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. You knew that Simon would always be there for you, no matter what.

"Hi," You let out a deep sigh and rested your head on his shoulder. "You're back early?"

Simon's warm embrace was exactly what you needed. You felt your body loosen up and your heart start to calm down as you let out another slow, deep breath.

You felt him nodded against your shoulder. "Yeah, my plans got canceled," he said softly, rubbing your back in a soothing motion.

You leaned into his embrace, humming a reply, feeling a sense of comfort. You needed this, you thought to yourself. You needed someone to remind you that you weren't alone, and that there were people in your life who cared about you – people who loved you just the way you are.

Despite your best efforts to hide your feelings, it was obvious that something was wrong. Simon squeezed your shoulder gently, as if he could sense what you were thinking. He knew that you were going through a tough time, but he also knew that you needed someone to talk to – someone who would listen and understand without judgment.

You took another breath, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. You were grateful for Simon. Grateful that he was in your life, and that he was there for you when you needed him the most.

"Is something wrong?" Simon asked, his tone soft and gentle.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. You didn't want to appear weak or needy, but you also didn't know how to hide your emotions from Simon.

"Love?"

Finally, you replied, "I'm just having a bad day. It's nothing you need to worry about."

"But.. I am worried," Simon said, his voice filled with concern. He pulled away from the hug to look at you. "You know you can tell me anything."

"I.." You sighed, feeling the weight of your insecurity and self-hatred bearing down on you. "I don't know, Simon. I just feel like I'm not good enough. Like I don't measure up."

"What do you mean?" he asked, the confusion on his face evident.

You looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes. "I, um, hate the way I look, I guess," you replied, trying to convey the depth of your dislike for yourself without stating it outright. You didn't want to burden him with the full extent of your self-loathing.

You watched as Simon's expression changed, going from confusion to concern. You sighed, knowing you had to be careful with your words. "It's just... I hate my body," you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Simon's eyes widened slightly, and you could tell he was beginning to understand.

"Oh, baby," he said softly. "You're beautiful, inside and out. I know it's hard, but try not to focus so much on how you look. There's so much more to you than that."

Simon leaned closer to you, his hand reaching out to hold your waist and the other at your chin. You looked up at Simon, grateful for his understanding and compassion.

"I know, but it's just so hard sometimes," you replied, your voice breaking again.

Simon pulled you into a hug, holding you close. "I know, love. But you're not alone. I'm here for you. You're not defined by your appearance. You're a kind, caring person, with so much to offer the world. Why'd you think I chose to marry you?"

You clung to Simon for a moment, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the love he held for you.

"My love," he continued, brushing a stray hair from your face to tuck in your ear. "You are more than enough. You are an amazing person, inside and out. I'm not just saying that. It's the truth. Understand, baby? The truth."

"I ... I can't do this," you choked as your sobs echoed the bathroom. It was all too much. It's as if you don't deserve all of his compliments to your body.

Simon took you into his arms, holding you close and rubbing your back soothingly. "Tell me, baby," he asked, his voice full of concern. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

You took a deep breath and hesitantly told him everything – about your insecurities, about how you never felt good enough, about how you hated how you looked like.

You leaned into Simon's embrace, seeking the warmth and comfort of his presence surrounding you. You close your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts and put them into words.

"It's just... I can't stop comparing myself to other people," you said finally, voice low and strained. "And every time I look at myself in the mirror, I just see all the things that are wrong with me. I can't seem to love myself, no matter how hard I try."

Simon squeezed your back, listening to you attentively.

"I know you mean well, Simon, but it's just so hard sometimes," you said, your voice still low and emotional. "I feel like everyone's always staring at me and judging me, especially when I wear something that shows off my body."

Simon's hand stroked your hair, trying to soothe your frazzled nerves. "You're beautiful, baby. And no one has the right to make you feel otherwise." He paused, his voice full of quiet intensity. "If anyone says anything to you, I'll deal with them, I promise."

Despite feeling down, you find yourself chuckling with tears in your eyes. His jokes were just so random and out of place, but you appreciated it nonetheless. Simon's voice was gentle and comforting as he pulled you closer to the hug, swaying your bodies in a slow, rhythmic motion.

"Tell me, pretty baby," he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours. "What's eating away at you?"

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your courage before you answered. "Well, it's my cheeks firstly," you said quietly, voice shaking slightly. "They're too huge.."

Simon's arms tightened around you, his voice filled with compassion. He leaned away from the hug and cupped your cheeks together. "Huge? Really, baby?" he asked.

"Yes, really..." You leaned into his embrace again, feeling the warmth of Simon and the love he held for you.

"Pretty baby," He said, cupping your cheeks again together. "I love these chubby cheeks you have. It makes you look like a hamster and god, you look so cute with them, don't you know that?"

"But everyone else has a perfect appearance," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I'll never be able to measure up."

Simon's eyes closed for a moment, as if he were searching for the right words to say. "You don't have to compare yourself to anyone else," he said finally, his voice fierce. "You're perfect just the way you are, my love. And I'll always be here to remind you of that."

Simon then kissed both of your cheeks affectionately and you feel tears welling up in your eyes again. He asks, "Do you have any more?"

You sighed. "What about my hips and thighs?" You continued, voice shaky with insecurity. "They're too big, too curvy. I'll never be able to wear the things I want to wear."

Simon's face softened even more as he listened to your words, his eyes full of understanding.

"Sweet baby," He coos at you and carefully places both of his hands onto your waist. "Your hips and thighs are a part of you, and they're beautiful. Nobody has the right to tell you otherwise. Your curves are beautiful and I love how it fits well in my hands when I hold them to touch you."

Your tears wouldn't stop running down.

"They're my love handles from you, my love," He added and it had struck a chord in your heart. You felt a weight lifted off your shoulders. His words had been like a balm to your soul, and you leaned into his embrace more, feeling a sense of peace and comfort wash over you.

Your tears continued to fall, but they were no longer those of sadness and insecurity. They were tears of gratitude, for having found someone who truly valued and loved you for who you are – curves and all.

You looked up at Simon, your eyes shimmering with a mix of joy and gratitude. "Thank you, Si’," you whispered, sniffing as you do so.

Simon stroked your cheek gently, his eyes full of love and affection. "You're welcome, baby. Fuck, I love you so much. Don't you ever forget that, okay?"

Simon's words hit you like a ton of bricks, lifting a weight you didn't even realize was there off of your shoulders.

"I love you too, Si'." You replied and rested your head on his shoulder, softly breathing in your choked sobs.

"I just want to love myself like how you love me." You cried into his embrace, all of the pain and insecurity you'd carried with you for so long finally coming to a head.

"I believe in you, love," Simon replied, his voice filled with conviction. "You're strong and capable and beautiful, inside and out. You don't need anyone else's approval to be those things. And I promise, I'll always be here to remind you of who you truly are."

You felt his arms tighten around you, his embrace warming you from the inside out. His words of encouragement filled you with a newfound sense of confidence, and you felt a sense of hope rising within you.

As Simon's words registered with you, you felt the weight of the tears rolling down your cheeks like an onslaught. You had been carrying the burden of your insecurities for so long, and the idea of someone else understanding what you were going through, and even accepting you for who you are, made you feel like maybe there was still hope.

Simon's embrace grew even tighter as he held you, his chest rising and falling with each breath he took. You could feel the comfort and warmth exuding from his body, and it made you feel like you were at home.

"Thank you," you said, nuzzling into his neck further. "I don't know what I would do without you, Si'"

"You'll never have to find out," Simon replied, his voice full of determination. "I'll be here for you, always. You're not alone, love. We'll face your insecurities together."

With those words and a kiss to your shoulder, you felt a sense of peace and acceptance wash over yourself. You knew that, with Simon on your side, you could get through anything, even your own perceived flaws and imperfections.

You leaned into his embrace more, feeling safe and loved for the first time in what felt like forever.

A/N: what the fuck. this made me cry again holy shit this rlly hit a nerve inside. what have u done to me anon !! jk i love this <//3

and to anyone who related to this, if you're feeling insecure about your body and struggling with body image issues, it's important to remember that you are so much more than your appearance. Everyone has their own unique features and qualities that make them special and valuable. Try to focus on your positive traits, both inside and out :) Surround yourself with supportive people who see you for who you truly are and appreciate you for all that you are. Remember that it's okay to have days where you don't feel your best, but try to be gentle with yourself and give yourself time to heal and grow <//3

Remember that you are not alone, and there are people who care about you and can help you through this difficult time !! It might be helpful to seek professional help or support groups if you feel like you're struggling. Ultimately, remember that your worth as a person is not tied to your appearance or weight. You are so much more than your exterior and deserve love and kindness no matter what. <//3

562 notes · View notes

angelwhisp3rs · 3 months

Text

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ nuance

Pairing: DI!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Always at eachothers throats, they just don't know they've been doing that in a lot of ways.

Tags: Smut; fluff; p in v; oral (m); i imagined reader being 23-25 and leon in his late thirties; breeding kink; brush play (shh its hot don't judge it); reader is called bunny; daddy kink; enemies to ???; leon is a perfect soft dom; clit spanking;

Notes: hehe older leon makes heart go brr; also: i changed the characters in the header, bc jasmine and alladin looked whitewashed (i always put a filter on the header to tone down the colors on the collage bc i always think they look like a hot mess unfiltered). I wanted to apologize and explain to clear any misunderstanding, and i'm sorry to have ever caused any doubts, i aim to make this a safe space for everyone!

Minors do not interact!

Whenever they went on the field, the rest of the agency always wondered how they came back alive, seeming as if they could, they would the other by their own hands, no need for bio-weapons. They were always bickering, Leon with his cocky ways, and her with her serious and diligent one.

No one ever understood how they worked, but their results never lied: a mission that usually took weeks, was successfully squashed in days; their cases solved higher than anyone else’s in the whole organization.

Everyone kept teasing Leon for working with a “human leash”, while the women teased her for not trying anything with him, since he was so ‘perfect and dreamy’ - their words, she would rather be dead than ever say that.

It always bothered him how she was too correct. Always with a bun in her hair, and her squared glasses, she hated whenever they didn’t follow her plans, believing that Leon definitely had a death wish, and was pulling her into a suicide mission every time.

In her case, it bothered her that he was a show-off, always doing way more than it was needed, just to prove how “awesome” and “skilled” he was. While fighting with an infected with chainsaws, instead of just walking back, he just did a fucking flip. Why?? He saved the president’s daughter, for fucks sake, there was no need to prove people that the was the goat. That encounter always made her seethe, since when he ended the battle, she only looked baffled at him as his cocky smirk never fell once from his stupid, and way too handsome face.

On the field and in life, they always had their differences, wondering everyone how they kept being scheduled together, but with the interesting thing that life is, they managed to find just one place where they could meet their interests.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

“Just like that, bunny”, he grunted breathless, hips moving to meet her face, holding her hair in place.

Fucking her pretty throat as her eyes got teary, he felt how thigh and warm it always was, always begging to be fucked with his big cock. Her hair was down, her cheeks all blushy and she behaved beautifully on her knees, Leon sitting on his bed as he drilled into her sweet hole.

“Love fucking you like this. Always the perfect way to celebrate the end of our missions”

She whined in agreement, her face wet, as her spit coated his member and his heavy balls, since he hadn’t fucked his pretty toy in so long. She gagged and rolled her eyes back, loving being used as a fuck doll, seeing that hunk lose himself in pleasure as he used her smaller body.

“G’nna give my bunny her favorite meal”

He grunted out, cumming in her throat and making her swallow it all, watching as a line of spit connected her abused lips and the pink head of his fat cock. He had a relieved and proud smile as he panted, pulling her up to sit on his lap and pressing kisses to her overworked lips and sensitive neck.

“So proud, baby. Daddy's little throat sleeve, aren't you? Gonna reward you for being such a good little girl”

He spread her legs as she sat on his lap, her hips squirming on his hold, making him hiss as she ground her perfect ass on his spent and sensitive member. At that, he slapped her right thigh, making her whine.

“Don't make me punish you, bunny. Daddy just wants to play properly with his toy”

“Too needy, daddy, ‘m sorry”

Leon taking pity on her, managed to lock her legs apart with his strong ones, letting his fingertips travel through her soft skin.

“I know, baby girl. Bunny always needs her little cunt to be played with, and I've been neglecting you, hm? Don't worry, gonna reward you for being such a good doll for me”

With a slight and feathery touch, he caressed her thighs, moving up to the top of her mound, and descending to her wet and puffy cunt.

“Will you let me stretch and play with this hole, baby? Till you are too sore to close your legs?”

She whined in response, nodding eagerly.

“Yeah, it's gonna feel so nice, isn't it, bunny? Then, I'll use you some more since you are gonna display yourself so nicely for me”

As he said his filthy words, his teasing fingers began to softly touch her pussy up and down, just barely there. She was creamy for him as if he taught her pussy to get ready for his thick dick.

She tried inching her hips up, desperate for more friction, but he put his fingers away, slapping her clit. This made her keen and throb around the air, the pain feeling welcoming on her puffy, wet button.

“Fuck… I knew you were gonna enjoy that. Little sluts love to feel pain, right? And I just got the prettiest one to play with”

He spanked her cunt again, making her sob at the friction, her hunger heightening tenfold since it's been weeks since she felt any contact at all.

“Daddy, please… need you to play with my pussy”

“Behave and I will then”

Taking pity on the girl, his fingers circled her clit with a little more pressure than the last time, his other hand scissoring her lips open to grant direct contact with her. She moaned and tried to keep her hips from moving, squirming just a little as his fingers brought her into delirium.

“Good job, bunny. Let me use you, daddy's just gonna appreciate his bunny's little cunt.”

He stayed like this for minutes, till she creamed on his fingers, her thighs almost cramping from being spread like that. After she came, he massaged her legs, kissing her cheeks and jaw.

“That's it, baby, made me so proud. I know you are sensitive, but can daddy play with you some more?”

He asked as he pinched and rolled her erect nipples, making her clench again around nothing as she squirmed on top of him. She nodded, and he grabbed something from his nightstand that she couldn't see.

“Saw this on a video and almost came in my pants. Kept imagining myself playing with my baby like that as she made a mess”

He moved her to lay comfortably on the bed, letting her spread her legs again. He pressed an adoring kiss to her clit, making her moan. He chuckled, groaning at her taste on his lips.

“As much as I wanna eat this pussy, don't wanna overwhelm you. Later I will, angel”

Then, he grabbed what he had hidden from her sight: a makeup brush. The bristles looked soft, with a round top. She looked at him curious and kinda unsure: is he seriously planning to fuck her with his thin thing?

He chuckled at her reaction. “Not gonna do what you think I will, doll. And I promised I washed it thoroughly before you came, I didn't want to harm you. Do you trust me?”

She nodded, and it was the truth. As she trusted him with her life on the field, she trusted him to heighten their pleasures to highs she had never felt. She was always pleasantly surprised whenever he planned something new, so she trusted him to make it good.

Sensing her newfound trust, he tentatively toyed with her clit as he brushed it gently, her hips twitching at the new feeling, not feeling bad at all.

“Good, bunny?”

“Yeah, daddy”

Glad with her approval, he kept “brushing” her cunt as if he was a painter making his new masterpiece. He always pressed the item firmer on her swollen little clit, watching as her slick gathered on the item and her entrance.

He grunted at her moans and the sight. The video was hot, sure, but seeing this in front of him made him want to go crazy and fuck his cock into the sheets like a fucking teen.

She was sensitive already from the spanks and his fingers, and now the soft bristles made her pleasure skyrocket. He began rolling and going back and forth with it, and she knew that she was done.

“D-daddy!”

“That's it, baby, cum again. Let daddy keep having his masterpiece”

She groaned and held tightly onto the pillow underneath her head, legs shaking but not daring to close as he played with her, her heartbeat quickening by the second.

Soon enough, she came hard, seeing stars. It wasn't a completely different feeling or a potent sex toy, but the novelty and thought behind it made it so hot that she swears that she almost passed out.

He kissed up her legs, letting her lay down on her side as she shivered in pleasure, moving behind her and hugging her.

“That good, bunny?”

“Y-yeah, fuck. Don't even know why” She giggled, her mind pushed deeply into that sweet and welcoming submissive place her job never allowed her to reach, but the asshole behind always granted her.

“It looked even hotter to see. Cock throbbed so much I thought I would cum untouched.”

“Maybe you are losing your hand, daddy”

“Says the shaking bunny from a mere brush”

She giggled, turning her head back and kissing him. Her gentle hands moved to his hair to let her fingers caress it as his strong and big hands push her more into him, trying to be patient but his cock screamed for attention.

“Daddy, want more” She begged between the kisses.

“So do I, bunny. Let my fat dick kiss your womb, baby”

He raised her leg to his hips, allowing both to keep spooning as he gently slid his shaft in her, groaning at her wetness and warmth. He put his foot down on the bed to use as leverage, and as he held onto her flesh, he began thrusting.

The position was so intimate that it made his mind think things that he never had before. And honestly, it made his heart ache the same way it had done previously with Ada. Fuck, he didn't want to think about that now.

He fucked her harder to make him forget about it, which wasn't hard since that was the first opportunity he had, other than her great blow job, to properly blow his load inside his bunny's hole.

She held tightly onto his hand, the other one supporting her leg up too, as she screamed and drooled in pleasure, completely cock drunk. He groaned at his baby's situation and moved his hand to her abused clit to rub it again.

“Can't hold it, you were so hot, baby… gonna blow my load deep into that delicious” thrust, “wet” another thrust, “thigh” another one, “cunt” he thrust harder.

She was babbling nonsense, feeling the welcomed pressure on her lower tummy again, begging him to cum in her and breed his bunny. Her voice and pussy tightening around him made Leon feel like he was about to explode, so he kissed her roughly.

Both came together as they shared a kiss, her legs shaking as they felt him coating her gummy walls with his much-needed cum. He gently lowered her leg, staying inside her as he kissed her neck, tending to her gently to not make her drop.

Sex was always the best way to find a middle ground, after all. Maybe tomorrow they would be back at screaming in each other's faces, but with their voices just a little strained, since right now they only wanted to scream in pleasure.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #leon x reader #leon smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy death island

381 notes · View notes