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#laundry brighteners
hazzabeeforlou · 8 months
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There’s absolutely nothing like reading your ao3 comments to feel like the luckiest, happiest, most cherished person in the universe ❤️
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topshelf2112-blog · 9 months
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gardenerian · 2 years
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guess who had to give in to the evil that is the laundry again v.v
anyway, hope you're having a good start to the week! 😌🍅
oh no 😔 i hate that for you! if it helps, i still have a little more to do today, so we’ll be in it together 😭
other than that, a very nice start to the week! it’s a sunny day out, the tomato babies are thriving, i’m about to take a lovely walk around my neighborhood. sending you love and aaaaaaaaall the best wishes for a great rest of your day, beloved! 🌺🌼🌸
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ohcaptains · 1 year
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don’t you dare fall in love | 3
pairing. dealer college student! ellie williams x f! reader
PART ONE. PART TWO. MASTERLIST. synopsis. ellie tries her hardest not to mix business with pleasure. or, ellie gets a new customer and unfortunately falls in love with her.
warnings. 18+. blank & ageless blogs will be blocked. clichè comments on sorority girls (sorry), sexually explicit descriptions of female receiving cunnilingus, fondling, fingering, and dry humping. not beta’d.
an. well here ya go! thank u to all those who were so patient and lovely with me<3 to those who weren’t and were mean to me...i’m giving you the nastiest dirty look rn. pls comment and reblog!!!! love u. 
When Ellie gets out of her meeting with her personal tutor, she’s just about ready to throw herself down the stairs.
Catapult herself out of the window and perish on the campus floor. That way, she wouldn’t have to rewrite this God. Damn. Essay.
It sucks that she has to do actual work to get her degree, but what sucks even more, is doing the work and being told you’ve done it all wrong.
At first, Ellie was angry. Now, she’s frustrated. Tired. Was up all night writing this essay because she’s been waiting for this meeting for a whole week, and all the man did was say, you’re not actually answering the question.
“Fucking asshole,” she murmurs, pushing through the doors.
She reaches the quiet hallway of the humanities block, the dilapidated building stuffy with age. She misses her uber-funded science building. Misses the cool white and sleek edges. Here, there’s paper covering everything.
The hallways go round and round – lift creaks from the weight of students carrying War and Peace in their backpacks, year after year.
She’s near tears when she hears you calling her name.
“Els?” you ask, tone confused and edged with excitement. Ellie’s heart does its little familiar leap. She turns to you, sniffing the tears away. It’s been a minute since she saw you in the flesh. Her body aches, eager to touch you. “Hey,” she greets, the presence of you brightening her mood for a sweet second. You’re wearing a casual pair of black jeans and a band tee – Ellie owns a similar one, and for a moment, she thinks you’re wearing her shirt. “I was just about to text you –” you start, but your face twists, noticing hers. “You okay?” “Yeah,” Ellie lies. The tears push harder now, your concern making her belly flop.
You frown. “No, you’re not.”
Her lip wobbles.
“Ellie?” “Sorry, just – fuck --” her eyes are rimmed red, tears pushing over the edge. “—had a really shitty meeting with my tutor about my essay that’s worth like, 50% of my grade and I’m so busy with other work and—” a tear slips down her cheek, but you’re quick to take her in your arms, murmuring, “oh, Els,” as you cup her head and pull it into your neck.
She releases a breath, leaning her full weight into your body.
You smell like laundry detergent and coffee. Smell familiar. She’s comfortable here. It’s why she lets herself begin to cry against your shoulder.
“Awh, sweetheart,” you whisper, hands running up and down her back, soothing her like a baby.
“What did the feedback say?” “Have to change the whole thing. And I have enough time, but I have other work.” “Yeah, I can imagine.” “He basically said that if I submit this essay, I’ll fail.” “Well, you won’t, because I’ll hack into the system and change your grade for you.”
Ellie hiccups a laugh, “you know nothing about computers.” “I’ll learn for you. Take some night classes. What’s the essay for?” you ask, still rubbing her back. “English.” “I can help you if you want.” “Yeah?” “Yeah, come to mine. I’ll look through the question with you, and help you plan.”
Ellie pulls away, wiping her wet, red-rimmed eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. You help her, drying the dampness from her chin and cheeks, and smoothing her hair behind her ears.
She beams from your touch. Her body goes hot from your care -- belly flips over.
You hold her shoulders, keeping her steady, and Ellie thanks the Gods you texted her that day. Your smile is resolute as you say, “It’ll be okay. We got this.”
When you open the door to your accommodation, Ellie is mid panic attack. “You live in a sorority?” she squeaks. When you sent her the address earlier, she hadn’t really read it, too busy trying to calm her beating heart. Going to her house going to her house.
Now, she’s standing in front of you, and thinking – this is your house? There’s a teardrop chandelier hanging behind you, and the staircase loops around the entrance hall, feeding into the back of the house.
You frown, confused. “Yeah, did I not tell you?” “No – “Ellie bursts, clearly flustered, “-- you failed to provide me with that information.” She makes a mental note to text Dina, simply – what the fuck, man? “Is it a problem?” you wonder, leaning against the doorframe, comfortable in your home. (Wearing pyjama shorts and a baggy top, you know, comfortable)
You didn’t seem like a sorority girl. But what did that even mean?
You did have a lot of…spirit.
Ellie imagines you hosting mixers and philanthropy events.
(Imagines you wearing a lot of pink and jumpers with your sorority name on it and nothing else.) “I don’t really sell to frats or sororities,” she explains, because, yeah, that’s the reason she’s having a hot moment. She thought she knew a lot about you. This, right here, is a big deal, and yet she’s only now just finding out.
What else did she not know about you? You think for a quick second. “Oh. Well,” you smile, patting your chest, concluding, “I’m the exception,” and you take her hand and pull her in, closing the door behind her.
When Ellie’s in the house, she doesn’t let go of your hand.
Instead, she uses it to tug you closer, and your wrist pushes into her belly. “They let queer girls into sororities?” she whispers, close enough to taste the mint gum you’re chewing.
Ellie has ideas of girls on the straight and narrow. No girl kissing here, unless guys are watching. Ellie cringes at the cliché, but you’re not offended – hadn’t heard her thoughts, so, that would be why – as your lips pull into a sly smile.
You lean forward, a ghost of a kiss. Ellie’s throat squeezes. “They don’t know that I’m a queer girl,” you whisper back, the heat of your eyes all-consuming.
Ellie watches you shrug.
“They don’t know that at least a quarter of them are queer girls, but – they’re not ready for that conversation.” “But you’re out, no?” Ellie quickly stumbles. If you’re not out, then that really messes with her plans to marry you and meet all your family. “Yeah,” you shrug again, explaining, “they just haven’t asked,” as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. In some ways, Ellie guesses, it is. She beams, “Well, they’ll ask when they see you hanging with me.” “What, why?” “Because I’m a known queer girl” “Oh, you have a reputation?” you quirk, and Ellie hums, “It’s possible I may have fooled around with some of your sorority sisters.” You chew on your lip, and cock your head to the side, “But did you share a really weird and intimate high with them where you cuddled all night, woke up mid-orgasm and then it made things super weird and odd to the point where you never really spoke about it again?”
Ellie grins, “No.” You shrug, “Oh, well. I win then,” and take her hand and begin to drag her behind you like a lost puppy dog.
She’s behind you on the stairs again, and you catch her staring when you turn to say, “Let’s go to my room.” As you drag her through the house, Ellie doesn’t see anyone, but she does hear the ominous sound of girl giggles and whispering. Heat blooms in her cheeks, as if she’s got omniscient eyes at the back of her head.
Ellie didn’t get along with peppy girls – too full of inner turmoil to match their happy-go-lucky attitude. The thought makes her clutch your hand tighter, and she speeds up, bumping her shoulders with yours.
“So, what’re the rules?” “Huh?” you ask, looking at her funny. The pair of you pass a group photo, and Ellie wants to stop and gawk – try and find your smiling face – but you tug her along, sensing her motives. “Like,” Ellie starts, stuck on her phrasing. “How should I be around you?” You frown up at her, deciphering her meaning. Slowly, your frown loosens. A small smile pushes into the side of your cheek. You squeeze her hand.
“Just be my Ellie.”
The pair of you go through Ellie’s question, and you help her write up a plan, noting all of her points and the quotes she should use.
Ellie tries to focus, but the whole time she’s thinking about how close you are to her – leaning against her, pushing your shoulder into hers.
She’s sitting on your bed in your room, and she’s hot all over as a result – smelling the scent from your burning candle and listening to the soft music you’re playing out of the laptop speaker.
Your walls are covered in posters. Pictures of you with family and friends and Ellie is surrounded by so much you that it feels like it’s always been like this.
Always been in your room, with her head on your lap, listening to your playlist – Ellie’s got Shazam out, but you’re just sending her the link. On her main phone, now – no busted one at the bottom of her bag.
She’s so busy being with you that she’s not wondering what she’s doing with you.
What are we? She wants to ask, but then your roommate decides to come in.
She pauses in the doorway, flinching as if she’s walked in on something intimate.
Ellie watches your eyes widen an inch, but then you catch yourself, smiling and waving. “Hey,” you greet, and your roommate – actually wearing a hoodie with your university name on it -- smiles, “Sorry, just grabbing my charger.”
“No problem,” you respond, and when she finally flicks her gaze to Ellie – kept on looking around her, like she was panhandling for money on the subway – her smile loosens.
She’s silent as she grabs her wire from her bed and doesn’t look at the pair of you as she leaves. When she’s out of the door, you get up and lock it. Coming back, Ellie gets comfy on your lap again.
“Did she look at me funny?” She’s not sure what your relationship with her is like, so she steps carefully. “I think she fancies me,” you casually explain, and Ellie’s belly flops.  “For real?” You nod, wiggling your brows. “Should I be jealous?” she jokes, and your lips curl, tongue peeking out as you run it across the backs of your teeth. “We were together, once.” Ellie tries to imagine the pair of you together, and she comes up blank. Though, that’s probably because she’s too busy editing the image to clip her face in. “Yeah?” “Mm, at a Halloween party.” You’re grinning too wide. “You’re just fucking with me,” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “I’m not! I was dressed as a cat, and she was this like, sexy nun or something.” “Really?” Ellie asks, raising a brow and pulling a face that says, you’re full of shit. “Fine – I won’t tell you then.” “No no, I wanna hear this.” “What’s with the tone? I thought you’d for sure want to hear about my sexual escapades.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” You pull your lips together and raise a brow. Ellie suddenly feels too hot. Suddenly wants to run very quickly out of your bedroom door. Butterflies swirl in her belly, blood rushes to her cheeks, to her neck, and she feels the tips of her toes go numb.
You’ve danced around each other with this flirty banter for a while now, but it means something more now that you’ve said it out in the open.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ellie lies, hoping the red of her cheeks isn’t too prominent in the warm glow of your bedroom. You don’t lose your pursed lips, and Ellie rolls her eyes.
“Just hurry up and tell me about how you fucked your roommate.” “Say please,” you quickly rebut, and Ellie chokes.
The fuck? “What?” She laughs nervously, ignoring the quick electric bolt that shot through her groin, “fuck off.” “Fine,” you bleat, leaning back against the bedframe. “I won’t tell you then,” and Ellie shakes her head, proclaiming, “You’re insane,” and you grin at her, raising a testy brow, “It’s just manners, Ellie.”
When Ellie had imagined the dynamics of your relationship – but not relationship – it was you saying please. Preferably whispering it with your fingers in her auburn hair. Please Ellie, please do that again.
Ellie sits up from your lap, shaking the image away.
She takes in the curve of your brow, and the teasing slip of your lips. She dips closer – sudden, quick – and relishes in the way your mouth falls open an inch.
“I’m not begging you,” she whispers, not bothering to hide how mesmerised she is by your mouth.
“No?” you speak, matching her lazy tone. You nod to her, “I thought you’d be into that.”
Jesus fucking Christ, what’s happening right now? Ellie thought you’d help plan her essay and be done with it – she’d hoped for some flirty banter, but this was different. This was… Ellie leans closer, propped up by her hand that she’s planted beside your thigh. “If I say please, I want intricate detail.” “If you say please, I’ll give you whatever you want.” This girl…
“Whatever I want?” Ellie quirks. “Yeah,” you respond, and you press your forehead against hers, tone breathy as you repeat, “Whatever you want.”
Ellie can think of a lot of things she wants. For starters, she wants to close this gap and finally kiss you, but she says, “Please tell me your story,” and you smile, all teeth.
“It was Halloween.” “You said that.” “n, we were really drunk, and she’s like – straight straight, right?” You say straight like someone would say sorry. “Mm,” Ellie hums, her belly swirling. She hasn’t moved a fucking inch. Her palm is cramping, but hell if she’s going to lean away from you right now. This is a whole other kind of foreplay. “We’re in the bathroom.” “Here?” she asks, needing details – information. What day was it? Time?
You nod, and your nose brushes against hers. Her face blooms red again, and the brush of your touch makes her brain fuzzy. “We’re making out, and I thought she only wanted to kiss, but then she starts tryna take my top off.”
There’s a sincere edge to your tone. Your eyes are wistful, but you’re beaming – spurred by the excitement evident in Ellie’s eyes.
“Things get heated. She’s touching me everywhere, you know, hands just, between my legs, on my chest. Says she’s wanted me for ages but couldn’t say it, I mean, she’s got a boyfriend.” “A boyfriend?” Ellie asks, and fuck, that makes it worse. Or better? Either way, her body begins to ache like it did that morning – when it was just the pair of you and the world was quiet. Thrums electric and Ellie’s suddenly worried about the electric bill. “Yeah – frat boyfriend. Frat president boyfriend.” “Look at you, miss home wrecker.” You roll your eyes, “you want me to finish the story?” “I said please, didn’t I?” “You’re the worst.” “So…she’s taking your top off.” “Yeah. Then she’s taking my pants off, too. Then says, she’s never been with a girl before, can I show her?” Ellie pulls back with a groan. She can’t help it. Pulls back and falls into your lap, imagining you showing her how to fuck.
Her eyes are glazed over, like she’s somewhere else, thinking, about something else. She rubs her face and listens to your sweet giggle.
“Sorry,” she says, settling back, and you hold your hands up.
“No worries, take your time.”
Ellie waits – patiently. Waiting for you to divulge more information. Please carry on, she thinks. Please please please.
She feels like a kid at camp listening to the teens tell a ghost story around the campfire. And then what?
“You made her come?” she whispers, failing to hide the excitement in her whisper. A small, thoughtful smile finds your lips, and you lean down, hair brushing over her face.
Your thigh pushes into the back of her head, and you smell like a forest.
Your room smells like a fucking forest. Pine and vanilla.
The lights are dim, cloaking the room in a warm glow. She swears she hears trees swaying in the distance, but she realises – faintly – that it’s just the blood rushing in her ears. No trees here, she thinks. No bloody forest.
You’re looking down at her, eyes glittering in the warm light. After a stress-filled silence, you nod, whispering, “against the wall, cat ears still on. Made her come so hard it was dripping down my chin.” “Jesus,” Ellie whispers. Her legs fidget, trying to squirm from the warmth pushing between her thighs. She pushes her hair away from her forehead, even those it’s already tucked behind her ears. “Then what?” she asks, moving in your lap. Then what then what.
Your lips curl into a small smile, “Then we never spoke about it again.”
Ellie feels her eyes go dark with the memory. Imagines a film over them — lost in her own brain. Pictures you crawling on your hands and knees, on the prowl with your cat ears sitting pretty.
What was it you said again? That she was dripping all over your chin?
Her tongue peaks through her lips, pretty in pink, and she notices your small smile curve wider. Though, it’s not kind. It’s edged with something, as if you’ve made a funny and she doesn’t get the joke.
Ellie’s belly drops.
A laugh bursts out of your mouth, and she freezes. Nononononono, you didn’t. “I’m sorry—” you start, hiding your smile, and Ellie’s lips open in shock, then she’s snapping to -- jumping up from your lap, red all over.
She’s looking for her coat, hands shaking “nah, that’s not funny,” she’s saying, all while the faux image of you between a girl’s thighs buzzes behind her eyes.
It was her. She was the girl. She’d even imagined taking your cat ears off and putting them on her head. “Yeah, it was – Ellie,” you laugh, reaching for her hand, and Ellie’s body reacts to the touch.
You spin her into you, pouting, “Come onnnnn, I was playing.” “You’re mean for making that up. You’re a horrible person.” “Awhhh, I’m sworry. I’m sworry, come here –” You pull her into you, wrapping your arms around her neck. Be mad. Ellie thinks. Be mad be mad be mad—oh, but you’re so soft and warm.
She falls into you, hands catching your hips — holding you steady, as her head pushes into the curved gap between your throat and shoulder. You hold the back of her neck, hugging her close.
“I’m sorry, that was mean.” “Made me all worked up,” Ellie admits. The all-familiar ache is back. Then again, it’s never far when you’re around. “Yeah?” you quirk, the tone saying: tell me all about it. “Mm.” “Thinking about me with another girl?” She breathes a laugh, then breathes in your scent, the smell causing her to hold your hips tighter.
“You gotta write my essay now, make it up to me.” Your laugh rattles against her body.
“What you on about? I gave you free material to think about.” “What?” she laughs, squinting her face together. She pulls away, and you look up at her, chewing on your bottom lip.
You glance down at her mouth, and a breath gets caught in her throat. “Nothing,” You grin, and she cocks her head to the side, tightening her grip on your waist. “No, tell me. You made fun of me, you gotta tell me.” “I don’t have to do anything, Ellie.” “I’ll get it outta you.” “Yeah, how?” “You won’t know until it happens.”
“Weirdo,” you scoff, pulling away. “Let me walk you home, they wanna do a group meeting about some charity event later.” “Ooo, little miss sorority girl.”
You smack her chest, “Hey!” but Ellie grabs your hand, laughing as she pulls you into her, catching your hips again. You gasp in surprise, hands catching hers, and your chest pushes into hers.
She feels you focus on the cavern of her eyebrow scar, then the dust of freckles over her nose. The wild brush of her eyebrows, and the small, circular, chickenpox scar on her cheek.
Ellie gets confident or forgets the proximity of your relationship — nothing new — and rests her forehead against yours.
The world gets quiet.
The buzz of your music fades out, and all Ellie can hear is the small, clipped, and shaky sound of your breathing.
Your eyes flutter closed for a brief second, and Ellie wants to kiss you. Always wants to kiss you, but this is different. This is new and sudden and sweet. It’s soft. Gentle.
Your fingers graze over hers, and she imagines holding you like this forever.
Imagines doing this, as often as she likes.
All you’ve done together, and you haven’t even kissed yet. Ellie gazes at your wet mouth.
“Wanna come to mine? We don’t even have to smoke; you can just help me with the intro to my essay.” Your lips twist, and a small smile appears. “Ellie,” you whisper, tinged with a double meaning. “What?” she asks, feigning innocence. “I can’t,” you whisper.
She breathes in deep, eyes closing as she presses her forehead against yours. “Not even for a second?” “Ellie.” “Please?” she whispers, looking at you, and your face falls. Your mouth opens an inch, the red of your tongue alluring. When you don’t respond, Ellie slowly dips lower and tentatively brushes her mouth against yours. Your breath catches.
The skin of your lips is pillow soft, and for the first time, she’s able to taste your lip gloss from the source.   “Doesn’t please get me anything I want?” Ellie hushes. The music has bled into the background, a hum in the walls of your room. It rattles through her toes and dances through her chest, forcing her heart to thrum with life. Your eyes are half-lidded, lashes brushing over your cheeks when you look at her mouth. “That was a one-time deal,” you manage to tease, despite the nerves radiating off of you. “So, I can’t kiss you?” “I never said that.”
Your tone is dangerous. Ellie’s lips quirk into a smirk. “I didn’t say please though?”
There’s a heated 30 seconds where you pluck up some courage. Ellie can hear the cogs turning in your pretty little head before you conclude that, “manners are overrated,” and press your cherry lips against hers, sticky and artificially sweet.  
The world stops in that movie magic kind of way.
Reality flutters to a pause, the music switches off, the natter from your roommates downstairs goes quiet, and Ellie can no longer hear the constant anxious beating of her heart.
It’s just you and your mouth – the press of your lips, no tricks, just the delicate touch of yours against hers.
Ellie is 15 again and playing truth or dare at that camp her uncle forced her to go to.
She’s picking dare and kissing Jessica Carter, the daughter of a man that owned a slew of Ice Cream shops in Salt Lake, and it means so much more to Ellie than it does to Jessica.
She feels the electricity of the kiss pulse throughout her body, like she’s got her soapy fingers in a light switch socket, and as she pulls away and Jessica laughs – giggles, cupping her wet lips, I can’t believe we just did that – Ellie feels the cavern in her chest close just an inch.
She was about to thank her, but then she thought better of it.
Pulling away now, there’s no Jessica, it’s you, and you’re pressing your fingers to your lips like you’re holding them out to a cat, nervous as to what’s going to happen next.
Ellie leans her forehead against yours, lips numb.
You’re breathing like you’ve run a marathon. Then you kiss her again.
Ellie stumbles back from the shock, but you move with her, guiding her back until her legs hit the bed frame.
She makes a quick decision – pulls away and gets back onto your bed, hoping you follow her down. Thankfully, you do – quirk a nervous smile and knee walk over to her, spreading your legs and clambering onto her lap.
You sit back on her thighs with your knees pressed against her hips.
The position is a memory re-lived, except this time, you’re both alert – no sleep to mask the feeling, just the nerves pulsating through your veins. New new new, it’s saying.
Ellie reaches out and steadies your hips.
Taking a shaky breath, she slips her thumbs under the fabric of your shirt and runs the length of your shorts. The skin there burns, heat radiating off of you like a furnace, and it’s as if you enjoy the touch, as you take Ellie’s hands and cup them with your own, keeping them against your skin, before dragging them around your hips.
Ellie catches your eyes, breath lodged in her throat.
It stays there while you run her fingers up and under your shirt, painstakingly moving her hands over your stomach, over your rib cage, and Ellie’s heart swells in her chest as the tips of her fingers feel the underwire of your bra.
Ellie can’t decide what she wants.
There are too many options – kiss you, undress you – and she so badly wants all of them all at once. When you finally drag her palms over your breasts, she feels your nipples pressing through the thin and lacey fabric, and her belly swirls, the pressure pushing low.
Your breath rattles in your chest. “You okay?” Ellie asks, and instead of answering, you bow down to kiss her.
This kiss is different. It’s desperate. Tinged with the need to tell Ellie it's okay, it's okay, as you slip your tongue in her mouth. She groans.
It’s deep and low, echoing around the room, and there’s a fleeting second where Ellie is embarrassed, but you swallow the sound down, hips reacting, pressing into her crotch.
Ellie aches with the memory of before.
She wants to tease you, wants to say, you gonna come like this again? but you drag your lips over to her neck, and she whines pathetically.
Oh fuck, she thinks. Ellie goes liquid, like syrup. She melts into the mattress, hands relax on your breasts, and just – lets you pepper kisses over her throat. Let’s you run your tongue under her jaw, and her hips buck in response. Jolt up into your crotch, and your breathing changes, now coming out in long, deep pulls.
You mark her neck with your mouth, and Ellie feels the suck of your lips in her gut. Her hands go exploring, sliding over your tits, and she rubs her thumbs over your nipples, listening for your breathing stutter.
When you mumble a desperate fuck, into her throat, Ellie suddenly wants you on your back.
She knocks the pair of you over, and you fall back onto your mattress, grinning up at Ellie with a wild smile. You take her in. Eyes flutter over her like butterflies, taking in her statue as she sits on top of you. Suddenly, though, your smile changes. Goes nervous.
“What does this mean for us?” you whisper, and Ellie shakes her head, moving to kiss you again. Now on top, she swells with the feeling of control.
“Don’t think about it,” she mumbles, then tastes cherry again.
Ellie’s a hypocrite because all she does is think about it.
Up all night in bed, thinking about it. Thinking about how she wants you as her girlfriend, but she hasn’t even taken you out on a date yet.
Doesn’t know about your family. Your friends. Doesn’t know your favourite movie, or colour. All she knows is your weed order. The thought makes her sick with shame.
The mumble of her name coming out of your lips brings her back.
You stuff her shirt in your hands, and Ellie wants it off.
Wants your hands all over her, wants to grind her hips into yours like you did hers, with your hands on her hips guiding her.
“Wanna see,” you mumble, tugging at her shirt, and Ellie’s skin prickles.
She drags her hips back, the seam of her jeans pushing against her crotch, and sits up straight. She grins, all teeth, then fists the shirt, pulling it up her chest. The lines of her muscles are revealed, along with a few white scars that dot her stomach and back. She’s wearing a casual cotton bra, but you look at her as if she’s donning silk. “So pretty,” you whisper, blinking up at her, and that shame that sat inside of her dispels. You slide your hands over her chest, and the warmth of them pushes into her bloodstream. “Pretty?” Ellie quirks, needing something to distract herself from the languid movement of your hands. You trail your fingers over her ribcage, then push your pointer up her breast bone, mouth open an inch, ignoring her, and Ellie’s limbs go jelly.
You’ve got your goddamn explorer hat on as you drag the base of your palm between her tits, your spare hand lazily rubbing her hip bone.
“What’re you doing?” she asks, words coming out as a breathy whisper. You flash a small smile, “committing you to memory.” A dangerous pressure builds in Ellie’s heart. Her cheeks bloom red, her skin prickles, and she feels light-headed, as if you’ve removed all the oxygen in the room.
You hook a finger around the elastic of her bra and tug her forward. Ellie catches herself on the mattress beside your head just as you kiss her, pushing your tongue into her mouth and crotch up into hers.
She shudders.
The kiss is all tongue, desperate, as she bumps her nose against yours to taste you. She’s preoccupied with your mouth, so she doesn’t notice your hand sliding between her thighs. When she does, she forgets how to kiss. “S-Shit,” Ellie stutters, caught off guard. Your touch is gentle, just, lazily rubbing your fingers into her jeans. There’s a lot of fabric between you, thus Ellie’s left the chase the friction.
Resting her forehead against yours, she clutches the sheets beside you, rolling her hips into your hand. She blinks at you, opening her eyes, and you’re staring at her like she’s an artwork – trying to memorise every brush stroke.
You bump your nose against hers, flexing your palm. Ellie hums again.
“You sure you wanna do that?” she jokes, clutching onto any semblance of sanity. You give her a lazy smile, lips wet with her spit. “’s ’only fair.
“Not –” Ellie starts, but chokes, your knuckle just hitting the top of her pussy. Her eyes flutter closed, mouth opening an inch, and you must sense the shift, because you keep your hand there, nodding, knowing what she was going to say before she said it.
“Gonna make you come 'cause I want to, not ‘cause I have to.” “Fuck – okay,” Ellie relents. There’s no way she’s going to leave in the middle of this. She can’t. She’d probably collapse mid-way. A pressure pushes between her thighs, hot and constant. Her pussy clenches around nothing and she whispers something. Sounds like your name.
Been a minute since she’d had a hand other than hers between her legs.
Ellie lazily chases your palm, thinking that If she moves too quickly, this moment will poof into a dream. Doesn’t want to scare it away.
To hide her red face, she nuzzles into your throat, roles reversed from that morning, except Ellie didn’t have her hand between your thighs. She tells herself it’s her turn to do that next.
You pop the button on her jeans, and Ellie glances down at your hands, seeing/feeling them tug at the band.
You turn into her head, “Jesus, these painted on or something?” and Ellie breathes a laugh, “Didn’t expect someone else taking them off.” “I need easy access from now on, only sweatpants.” “Noted.” Your smile goes silly, “preferably those grey ones you wore when I came over that time, when I made you dinner.” “Thought you liked those ones, caught you staring at my ass.” “No you did not.” Ellie kisses your neck, “It’s so sexy when you gaslight me.” You huff, “You gonna help me take them off, or watch me struggle?” and a slow grin builds across Ellie’s face. “Wanna see you work for it.” “Well, you’ll be watching for a while. Enjoy the show!” you joke, trying to drag the denim off of her hips. You grunt loudly, brow furrowed as you tug.
Finally, you throw your hands up with a huff, then pout and cross your arms. Ellie’s leaned back at this point, and she mimics your face.
“Defeated by The Gap,” Ellie sighs. “I’m gonna put in a complaint. Tell them that their stupid jeans stopped my girlf—” you catch yourself, eyes widening.
Ellie goes still.
There’s a second where she hears the crowd cheering in the background, but it turns out it’s a kid crying on the street outside.
“What did you just say?” she asks, tone filled with awe. She cannot help the shit-eating grin that splays across her face. It’s so big that you have to cover your face from the shine. “I said nothing.” “Um, I heard something.” “You didn’t hear anything.” “I heard the word girl and then an ‘F’ sound.” “You didn’t! I’m telling you; you’re hearing things. Going crazy.” “Ummmmmm,” Ellie drags, squinting down at you.
She tries to pull your hands away, but you won’t budge. “I heard something!” “I was going to say, girl fellow!” “Girl what?” Ellie laughs, eyes alight with humour.
“Yeah—” you start, pulling your hands away and masking your features. You’re a beacon of control.
“Girl fellow. It’s this new thing I coined. A girl who is a fellow, as in friend.” Ellie squints, “Fellow means boy, you weirdo.” “No it—” you frown. “Does it?” “Yes, have you not seen Robin Hood?” You pause, “No.” “Oh my god!” Ellie erupts. “How have you not seen Robin Hood? I used to be obsessed with it.” “Everything makes so much sense now.” “The fuck does that mean?”
You push your hands into her hips, fingers tickling. “Do you have a pointy bow and arrow at home? A little green hat?” “Shut up,” Ellie laughs, trying to bat your hands away. She catches them. “That makes so much sense,” you start, joking around, “You’re far too into social justice.” “How are you bullying me about world change? You just called me your girlfriend!” “Fellow!” you correct. “That means girl boy!” You grin triumphantly, “Welcome to the 21st century, Ellie.” She rolls her eyes, “you’re so annoying.” “Your jeans are annoying.” “My jeans are cute.” You point a finger at her, “I’m gonna fight your jeans.”
Ellie dips low and kisses you, mumbling into your mouth, “mm, my money’s on the jeans,” and you wrap your thigh around her ass, using it as leverage to roll her onto her back.
You suddenly slide down, standing at the edge of the bed and shoving your hands into the band of her trousers. With a determined look, you manage to pull them down, “fuck your jeans.”
They end up on the floor, and Ellie’s left in a pair of boxers and her bra. She’d clap for you if she wasn’t so suddenly dazed. You appear on top of her, and she automatically wraps her arms around your shoulders, humming contently as you kiss her.
When her brain comes back to reality, she manages to switch positions again, knees pressing beside your thighs. With a tentative touch, you trace your hand over her stomach, distracting her with the wet of your kiss.
When your fingers touch the band of her underwear, Ellie’s breathing changes. It’s all suddenly real.
“Wanna stop?” you breathe, tone sincere and gaze gentle. Despite the bubble in her chest, Ellie has never wanted to continue something more. She shakes her head, eager. “Fuck no.”
Your sweet giggle distills the tension. “Good,” you grin, sliding your fingers lower, “wanted to do this since I met you.”
The tips of your fingers drag over her clothed pussy, gentle and soft. Ellie releases a shaky breath.
There’s just a piece of flimsy cotton stopping you from skin on skin, but she’s so wet that it feels that way, anyway.
Her eyes flutter closed, the sensation lulling her, fueling her with dopamine, and she buries her head in the crook of your neck, flexing her hips to meet your hand.
You drag the corner of your knuckle up her clothed slit, pushing into her clit when you get to the top. Ellie groans quietly, and you grin into the side of her head, rolling your knuckle into her, and she moans.
“Fuck, s’good.” “Yeah?” you ask, and Ellie nods. Propelled by her quiet desperation, you twist your hand and push a finger against her damp clit – the wet fabric showing the lines of her pussy – and roll it gently.
The fabric in the way makes it dirtier, more desperate, and makes Ellie moan pathetically into your neck, forgetting you’ve got roommates. She chases your hand.
Hips stir up, wet heat coiling in her belly and pushing into her cunt. Is this what you felt? That morning in her apartment?
The fire is quick to rise, and it’s only been a couple of minutes of her grinding into your palm when her pussy clenches, heat pushing at the back of her clit.
“Mm,” she hums, inhaling a shaky breath. Her thighs begin to shake. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come,” she hushes into your ear, and she swears she hears you whimper. You turn to look at her, and pout, “Want it on my fingers, Ellie,” you admit, eyes innocent, wide with wonder, and Ellie’s jaw clenches.
Her hips lose their rhythm, and how the fuck is she in control right now? She doesn’t feel that way. Feels like she lost any semblance of control when you flipped her over and pulled her jeans off. “Fuck, okay. Okay. Shit. Take my – fuck,” she stumbles, and you push your fingers under the band of her underwear, asking, “Can I?” in such a pure tone that Ellie has to close her eyes and breathe through her nose. “Yeah baby,” she nods, “s’okay. Fuck. It’s okay.”
You drag your fingers through her pubic hair – eyes on her the whole time – before you stuff your pointer and index against her wet clit. You start to roll the nerve, and Ellie chokes on her spit. Her body shudders.
She’s in your goddamn dorm room in your sorority with your hand down her pants.
You’re watching her intently. Glazed eyes gazing at her features, fingers controlling the way her brows furrow and cheeks bloom red. It’s wholly intimate. Ellie’s slick coats your fingers.
“So hot, Ellie.”
Her body flushes – she has to bury her head in your neck again, where she nods. She grinds her cunt into your hand, forcing you to press harder and roll quicker. “Mm, fuck,” Ellie swears, spit dribbling over her lips, drunk on your fingers, “Fuck, m’ gonna come.” She feels the familiar pressure behind her clit, the heat that sears – almost painful. You twist into her, nodding, saying, “Give it to me El’s.” Then, “please.”
The wave rushes up and pulls her under, rendering her voiceless and still, before it crashes, and she gushes over your hand, chasing the spin of your fingers as she shakes. “Mm, god, god, shit” she whimpers, voice muffled by your neck, trying so hard to keep quiet, but fuck, she’s not in control of her body. She clenches the duvet as her pussy clenches and un-clenches, clit spasming, whole body slick with sweat.
Her hips grind into your fist, eyes rolled back, mumbling curses into your throat, and she’s clenching the duvet so tight that her knuckles go white.
Then someone calls your name.
You freeze. Fingers go still.
Ellie wants to cry, but somewhere in her drunk mind, she realises the severity of the situation.
When you don’t respond, your name gets called again.
“Fuck,” you curse, then “Ellie, baby, I’m sorry, you gotta get off of me.”
Ellie manages to find the energy to roll off of you, and you get up, legs stumbling before you reach the door.
“Y-Yeah?” you call out through the wood.
Ellie lays boneless on your bed, breathing deeply through her nose. Her boxers are pushed low, pubic hair on show, but she doesn’t have the power to sort herself out.
She should be nervous at the idea of being caught, but fuck, her clit still throbs with the memory of your fingers. She languidly blinks at the ceiling, trying to calm her heart.
How the fuck did that just happen?
“Meeting soon, you coming?” the faceless voice calls, and you mumble a curse before saying, “Yeah! Gimmie a minute.”
When you turn to her, Ellie’s already gazing at you. You quirk a small, sad smile, and Ellie nods, understanding.
“Lemme just,” she starts, rubbing her face, “find the energy.” You giggle at her. “Let me help you put your stupid jeans on.” Ellie props herself up by her elbows, beaming, “My top down there, too?” “Got it.”
She manages to shove her jeans on, wincing when she knocks her sensitive clit. You eye her.
“Listen, I—” you start, clearly flustered. You motion to her, “—Would take better care of you after but.” “Whoa – what?” Ellie cuts you off, shoving her shirt on with a frown.
You purse your lips, “like, cook you dinner or kiss your forehead or something.” “You’ve already cooked me dinner, and you can kiss my forehead whenever you want.” “I mean. I don’t usually make a girl come and then dip.” “Oh,” Ellie frowns, “But this is different.” You pout, “Still feel bad.” “Don’t,” Ellie firmly spouts. She takes your hands and kisses your forehead. “I feel good, you should feel good.” “It was good?” you ask, suddenly lit up and eager to hear more. Ellie laughs. Her body is filled with a warm, buttery feeling. She’s still drunk on you, lethargic from coming, and she doesn’t have the space to panic.
Her subconscious tries to tell her everything that has happened that should cause her concern.
She nearly called you her girlfriend, then made you come on her double bed with a flowery bedspread. Now she feels bad because she doesn’t have enough time to give you adequate aftercare. Dude.
Still, Ellie shows no alarm when she kisses your forehead and says, “I’ll call you.”
It’s only when she gets home, looks in the mirror and sees her lips glittery with your lip-gloss, that reality sets in.
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agendeterjenlaundry · 2 years
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divine--serenity · 13 days
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the husband challenge
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ミ★content included: do yall know that one tiktok challenge where partner A is like “and im doing this with my husband!” yet they’re only dating? yeah, that’s this!! mayhaps a marriage proposal or two… or three…
ミ★word count: 921
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The phone was propped up onto your dashboard, the engine of the car humming in your ears. He looks at you softly, eyes crinkling in adoration when your hands clap together.
You clear your throat, smiling widely, “Okay guys! So today we’re doing a video with my husband!”
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ミ★Capt. John Price
“About time you realized that.” He grunts, folding his arms against his chest. You turn to him quickly, a twinge of pain from the fast movement.
“John, what does that mean?” He looks at you, analyzing your words and the tone you used. His eyes scan over to the phone camera as he clears his throat.
His lips quirk upwards into a sly smile, eyes crinkling at the edges when you start to laugh softly. “I’m just glad my baby knows that they’re married.”
“Not yet!” You chide playfully. Price agrees while shaking his head at your antics.
“I’ll make sure it happens in due time.”
ミ★Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley
“Not your husband.” It’s a statement that’s final in all ways. He watches your expression from the corner of his eye, waiting for the inevitable collapse.
“Oh?” Is all you say as the camera is turned off. Nervousness builds in his brain, setting him on edge the longer you go without speaking. He expects crying and hysterical questions, not this. Not silence that digs itself into his palms and draws blood.
But you’re cold and unwilling to acknowledge him, not until he starts laughing and kissing at the skin of your knuckles. You try to pull away but he keeps them firmly in place. “Baby, baby, look at me.” He’s pleading you to look at him, but you stay solid.
“What the fuck was that Simon?” He snorts and kisses your palm, his thumbs rubbing against the skin.
“Baby, I was joking,” He watches as you roll your eyes. “I’ll do the laundry for the next two months.” You brighten up at his words.
ミ★Sgt. Kyle “Gaz” Garrick
You notice his cockeyed stare, his left hand flipping back and forth as if he’s looking for a ring. “Oh, what are we then?” You turn to face him slowly, jaw propped open in disbelief.
“Kyle, we’re married!” He crosses his arms and rolls his eyes, showing disdain at your words. You click your tongue and grab his forearm softly, “Baby, look at me.” Kyle side eyes you, pursing his lips and showing you a barren ring finger.
“Dovie, there’s no ring! I cannot be your husband without one,” He bemoans. “Change that if you want husband privileges.”
ミ★Sgt. John “Soap” MacTavish
“Och, mah god! teuk ye lang enough.” He starts off his tangent, beginning to grumble again. You laugh at his antics as you lift up the takeout he got you both.
“My husband–“ He’s staring at you with stars in his eyes. “He got us something quick and easy because he’s about to be deployed again. You all know how hard it is watching them go.” Johnny doesn’t bother acknowledging what you say like he usually does.
“A’m yer husband! Fuck, how come didnae ye say that afore?” He’s slowly unraveling his proper english the more he becomes flustered at the idea of a ring on your finger.
“Ah'ament goin awa ye, nae 'til thir's a ring oan yer finger,” He whispers as he picks up your hand, pressing gentle kisses on your knuckles. “A'm marrying ye th' nicht.”
“Baby, Johnny, that’s literally tonight.” The food’s set down on your lap as he stares into your eyes, hopelessly in love with you even more.
“Dinnae care, bonnie.”
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ミ★Capt. John MacTavish
John looks at you from the corner of his eye, lips pursed in agitation. “Why did it take you this long to say it?” The words cause you to stumble over yourself. Cheeks heating up slowly until John noticed your eyes shifting away in nervousness.
“Love, it’s a trend. You know, one of those things I showed you.” He hums softly, now facing you entirely in the car. “John, you know it’s not a real video right?”
He stays silent as he lifts up his shirt, revealing your name on his rib. A cursive tattoo font on there, slightly faded with that noticeable blue ink look that tattoos have.
“Oh no, how long have you had that?” The horror on your face causes him to start laughing gruffly, your eyes watching the way your name bounces on his skin as he chuckles.
“Well, when you know, you know.” He shrugs. “Since I knew ya.” He reaches for your hand to place it on his ribs, but you shriek and slap at his arm playfully.
“You weren’t joking when you proposed a week into us dating?” He shakes his head ‘No’ at your question. His answer causes you to groan in disbelief.
ミ★Sgt. Keegan P. Russ
He turns towards you, a sly smile on his face. Keegan looks into the camera then flashes a bare ring finger, flipping his palm back and forth as he demonstrates the lack of a ring.
“I ain’t your husband.” He smushes your face between his palms, puckering your lips in the process. That stupidly handsome smile of his turns coy when you grin back just as cheekily.
“What do ya mean? We’ve been married 12 years Keegs!” He scoffs at your words and kisses you softly, still holding your face in his hands.
“Cause I’ve been too pussy to ask you to be my spouse.” Your jaw drops as you turn to face the camera.
“WHAT.”
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tags 🏷️ (if i forgot your name, pls let me know!)
@glossysoap @lordlydragon @ghastlybirdie @warenai @ivymarquis @keegansshark @luvecarson @violet-phantoms @azzy-ar @rosee-sensuelle @ghostfacebunni @kristyxoxo @astrodog69 @demideviil @tiffdaly04 @dumbjayde @kariiiel @taronyuhunter @lazarus-writes-nonsense
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stnexus · 3 months
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sip by sip…!
nanami kento x black!fem!reader
minors dni, 18+, nsfw
summary: drunk nanami is something else in bed, or maybe someone else.
cw: established relationship (married), minors dni, nsfw, smut, explicit language, nanami is drunk(previous consent), dom!nanami, sub!reader, oral (male + fem receiving), nanami and his filthy rambling, slight hints of dumbification, hints of ass eating, face fucking, fingering, light bondage, hints of spanking, bit of manhandling for reader, pet names (no use of y/n)
names used(?): doll, baby, good girl, slut, little slut
wc. 3.8k+
note: i took matters into my own hands. when i say i blacked out writing this. when i initially wrote it i was like okay let me hit the hay and go to sleep. woke up the next morning shocked at my own writing. hope you all enjoy! tags, reblogs and comments are always welcomed here!
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the flat-screen television put in ample work lighting the almost completely dark living room. the array of colors as the scenes flashed across the screen, changing just how much light flowed through the darkness. light bouncing off any surface it could find as some thriller movie played; the volume turned a bit low, but the quietness of the area made up for it. the only other light source was a tall floor lamp, with warm lighting brightening up the room just a bit from its spot behind a dark brown armchair. the light turned the off-white-colored walls a bit yellow under its illumination.
the sound of sloshing liquid in a cup could be heard as nanami had been content sitting in the armchair. his body relaxed as he maneuvered himself into manspreading and he had been like that for a few hours. his patterned tie was loose around his neck, allowing him to unbutton the first three buttons of his blue shirt. he had left his dress shoes at the front door.
this was a normal occurrence for nanami, his days were usually filled with work he had to tend to at the office, so he would find solace in your shared quiet home at night. the stress of his job being washed down with a few glasses of rum and coke. though today had been particularly stressful, leaving him with more than a few glasses of alcohol in his possession.
as you sauntered through the living room for the third time that evening, nanami watched your movements as you passed in front of the television. watching as you entered the laundry room — view clear from his seat. he adjusts himself as he watches you bend forward to grab something from the front load dryer, sitting whatever it is on top of the dryer. a flurry of towels that you had washed and decided to fold later. his hand grasped at his crotch for just a moment as he adjusted his stiffening cock against his thigh as you bent down again to make sure you hadn’t missed anything. your braids moved with every move you made, accenting your pretty brown skin.
christ, he felt like a predator stalking its prey.
“kento…!” your voice called out as he took another swig from his nth cup of the brown liquor and soda mixture.
“yes, doll?” he asked as his hand, which once adjusted himself, glided to his belt. the cool brown leather contrasts with his warmed skin. 
“do you have anything you need to wash tonight? i can just put them in the washer with the next load.”
it was like your words went in one ear and out the other. the way nanami had resorted to watching how your shirt clung to your bra-less form from behind — and how your shorts seemed to ride up a bit with every moment — was predatory.
“nanami.” your voice was quick and laced with a bit of confusion, as you still had yet to turn around. your hands are busy folding the towels before you.
“no, baby. but i need a little help. why don’t you come here for a second, huh?” his voice sounded deeper than usual. his words a bit slower as your motions slowed. you had already known he was drinking; when he had gotten home, he laid a kiss on your forehead as he grabbed his needs from the kitchen. but as he called out for you, a surge of heat seemed to run through your veins. 
turning towards him, you were met with almost the silhouette of him. it was dark, and the way he sat in the shadows of the living room was downright domineering. you watched as he moved to take yet another sip of the alcohol of his choice, drinking it down smoothly.
crossing your arms, which would prove to be an aid to him noticing your lack of bra even more, you began your short walk towards him. a few of the special-walnut stained wood floors creaking as you walked over them. nanami’s face becomes clearer with each step towards him.
he seemed as stoic as he usually is, but you knew that it was a facade. with the way his cheeks seemed to don a bit of a pink blush from his drinking, his usual uniformed blonde hair was a bit messy as he had begun to be heated by the alcohol. no doubt, his fingers had run through his hair a few times.
“what’s wrong, ken?” you questioned, out of sheer curiosity, that maybe there was something he needed help with. silly you, silly you.
“just needed a kiss, s’all.” nanami’s words slurred a bit towards the end as his brown eyes dropped to your glossed lips. not missing as you smacked them together in feigned annoyance. a small forced-off smile threatened to tug at the edges of your pretty lips.
“you made me walk all the way in here, thinking you needed help, for a kiss.” you chided with a joking tone. but the joke was done once nanami’s set his glass on a table next to the armchair. hands reached out to pull you closer by the hem of your pink shorts. his posture correcting as he directs you to stand between his legs.
“you goin’ to give me what i want?” nanami questioned you as he tilted his head towards you a bit. a pleased smirk gently graced his lips as he watched you comply, bending towards him. your lips press into his as he allows his hands to glide over the back of your thighs, grabbing just below your butt. rum and coke were evident as his tongue slipped into your mouth. a taste that you would usually grimace at, but when he was added to the mixture it was bearable.
“there, you happy now?” you spoke softly as you both pulled away — a short gasp left your mouth as he grabbed at you right where his hands were placed under your butt, pulling you over to straddle him.
“i am now,” nanami confirmed as he plucked the glass from the table, taking another sip from it. his brown eyes caught a glimpse of your face as you grimaced in reaction. 
“i don’t see how you drink that,” you confessed. “the taste just makes me want to gag my brains out.”
it was like your words were an open invitation to imagination-land. a thought of your lips wrapped around his cock flashed through his brain as all he did was hum in response to your words. the thought of you gagging as you attempted to take him fully, your tongue resting against the base of his cock. 
“you know, sweetheart, there is something else that could make me happy…” nanami confessed in his drunken stupor. a simple tilt of your head, directing him to go on, “why don’t you be a good girl and show me how you can use that pretty mouth?”
the words that were brought to the forefront of his brain spilled out with no barrier. that’s how you were sure the alcohol had been a direct influence. nanami never spoke with such intensity; he was usually a sweet and almost bashful lover. a certain level of roughness broke out of his grasp whenever he was intoxicated — a roughness that always had your stomach tightening. his question pushed an almost airy laugh from your lips.
removing yourself from his lap, you sank down to your knees in front of him. watching as he sat his glass down on the table next to the armchair once again. your hands glided softly over his tan-colored slacks, his thighs wide under the palm of your hands. with your fingers reaching the brown leather belt that secured his pants, you begin to fumble with the buckle. your acrylic-adorned hands not helping you one bit. 
“help me,” you whined a bit, only to watch him reach for his belt with one hand. undoing the buckle in record time, then unbuttoning and pushing the zipper to his pants down fully. the cloth of his black briefs visible as he pushed his pants right below his bulge. “thank you, baby,” you almost purred.
you laid a gentle kiss on his clothed cock, your hands still planted on his thighs as he let out a grunt.
“don’t play around,” nanami spoke sternly, his eyes holding a subtle hint of meanness. with an innocent laugh, you pulled the waistband of his briefs back, allowing his length to spring free — hitting against one of your cheeks in the process. grabbing at his cock as you pressed a kiss onto the leaky tip. with a huff, nanami’s hand wrapped around your wrist, making you let go of him as he wrapped his fist around his length instead, taking joy in the little look of shock you held as he tapped his leaky tip against your lips. dribbles of precum glossing your lips.
“stick that tongue out,” he demanded, to which you happily listened. allowing him a view of the pretty pink muscle, to which he tapped his cock along just as he had done to your lips. pausing before raising his hips slightly to push his length into your mouth. your lips wrapped around him like a reflex — a hum leaving as you breathe out through your nostrils. 
“shit— shit, such a good girl.” nanami groaned as you pushed yourself further, your nose brushing against his happy trail. pulling off his tie, he formed a makeshift ponytail holder for you as he tied it gently around your braids. taking note of your freshly done hair, he had no idea where to place his hands — remembering you had once stated it hurt to have new braids tugged on. his hand grabbed at his bunched up shirt for just a moment until you reached up towards him, directing him to rest his palms on the sides of your head. allowing him to move you however he liked.
“mouth’s so fuckin’ good, could cum down your throat. ‘s that what you want? want me to pump that throat full?” a sound of approval emitted from you as his cock dragged back and forth between your lips. surely your simple pool of heat in your lower stomach had converted into a wet spot in the panties tucked below your shorts.
nanami almost felt bad for a second; he was essentially face fucking his pretty wife. your voice would surely take a bit of a toll. but all qualms seemed to wash away as you moaned around him, your fingers digging into his clothed thighs as his hips picked up pace as his end neared.
it wasn’t long before nanami pushed your head down completely, and your nose pressed up against him once again as your eyes met his own. watery eyes trained on him, with your lashes clumping together a bit. the most mouth-watering moans falling from his lips as your spit collected at his base, the tip of his cock pressed down your throat and allowed ropes of his cum to fill you.
“take it. take it all, doll.” he almost whimpered as his hips stilled momentarily. traces of cum escaping from your lips. drawing his hips back, nanami began to stiffen again at the state of your pretty face. he slipped his cock out from between your lips, letting you take in a deep inhale as your lungs searched for the air that you had been unable to provide them. nanami took notice of your lips being even more plump. they were covered in your spit and his cum.
with no hesitation, he bent down towards you, pressing his lips into yours as a sort of show of appreciation. his tongue pushing into your mouth as he tasted himself on you. helping you stand to your feet, he stood as he fixed his clothing lazily, leaving them undone. guiding you to the bedroom as he walked you through the house.
pushing you onto the king-sized mattress, his hand slid under your shirt. grasping and pinching at your perked nipples. his tongue sloppy against your own as you begin to moan into his mouth.
“kento…” you gasped as he pulled his lips away from yours. “please touch me.”
“don’t rush me,” he gritted, unlike the compliance he had gotten from you. helping you pull your shirt off, he pushed off his shirt completely too. a white undershirt he wore under his blue shirt being removed in the process too. ushering you further up the bed, nanami watched as your tits bounced, leaning forward to take heated sucks at your pert nipples. then maneuvering himself, laying on his stomach between your thighs. brushing his fingertips against the smooth brown skin of your inner thighs. stopping at just the hem of your shorts.
placing a kiss over the thin material, he reached up to pull both your shorts and panties away from you simultaneously. throwing them somewhere in the room.
“pretty pussy’s fucking soaked,” nanami said as he brushed a knuckle through your wetness. then split your folds apart with his thumbs.
“ken, stop staring,” you whined in your embarrassed state as you clenched around nothing. with no arguments, you could feel his tongue run through your folds, staring from your leaky little hole to your clit. the way he had you spread allowed him to reach everything as he drew a light whimper from your lips. sitting up on your forearms, one of your hands jutted out to grab at his blond tufts. fingers weaved through the strands as he began lapping at you. your soaked cunt drooling over him as he pulled his thumbs away, grabbing at the back of your knees to push them towards your chest. pushing you back flat on your back in the process.
with his eyes closed as if he were blissed out, his tongue glided back and forth through the puffy lips of your cunt. grunting at how you taste.
“so fucking good, ‘could eat this pussy forever. wake up thinking about having this cunt in my face. all day— fuck, all day.” his words were much more expressive, much more filthy. it was rare that his words were used to describe his thoughts during intimate hours. they were usually used up on just relaying praises and asking about you the way you felt.
letting one of his arms work as a sort of spreader bar behind your knees, he freed up one of his hands. slowly pushing two of his thick fingers into you. take his last long sloppy lick at your cunt, his lips wrapped around your clit as his fingers moved at a quickened pace.
“kento, f—fuck,” you cursed out for the first time tonight. feeling his fingertips hit at that spongy spot within your inner walls.
“watch your mouth,” kento demanded as his actions continued. but it was like his words were ignored when you swore again, feeling his thumb rubbing against your clit. landing one last lick through your folds, he pulled his fingers out, taking in the sight of your cream coating them as he reached towards you. letting your legs go, nanami rested his thick fingers against your lips, your own cum smearing against them. 
“taste yourself, doll.” his voice deepened as he spoke, peering up as your mouth tugged open. allowing him to push his fingers against your tongue so you could lap at his fingers. “just like that, i love when my good girl listens.”
“why’d you stop?” your words rang through the air as a pout played at the edges of your lips. nanami only granted you a look as he pushed himself off the bed. grabbing you by your ankles to pull you towards the end of the mattress, the comforter below you getting dragged in the process. standing tall, nanami tugged his belt from the loops of his pants.
“turn around, hands behind your back, ass up.” he ordered as the metal parts of the belt buckle clinked together in his hands. dropping his pants and briefs towards the floor as he stepped out of them. doing as you were told, you clasped your fingers together behind your back — head placed on the bedding and your dark brown nipples perked up even more. your ass on full display as you moved into an arch.
hearing nanami move behind you, you let out a gasp as you felt the cool leather of his brown belt begin to wrap around your wrists, securing your hands behind your back. sinking to his knees behind you, his tongue pushed between the puffy lips of your cunt once more as he seeked out your clit, spreading you with his thumbs once more as he took harsh sucks at the vulnerable little bundle of nerves. listening as your whimpering reverberates around the bedroom as he withdraws one of his hands only to push two fingers inside you again.
his fist wrapped around his cock as a mantra of his name fell from your lips. like you were singing to him and only him. variations of ken, kento, or unfinished calls of his name circling the air. his fist moved up and down around his length as drips of precum formed at his tip, his nose sometimes brushing through your wetness as he basked in your scent.
“so fucking wet, ‘leaving a wet spot on the sheets. so damn messy.” he grunted, watching as a pretty string of arousal and his spit clung to you and dripped downward onto the bed. nanami felt animalistic as his finger pushed in knuckles deep and played at your inner walls. feeling you stretch around his fingers made his usual steady mind race. he pulled back from lapping at you, planting a kiss on one of your asscheeks as he pushed them apart with his after removing his fist from his cock. his tongue jutting out to lick at your asshole. tongue prodding at the tight ring of muscles as his filthy actions sent you spiraling. 
“kento, c—can i cum?” you stuttered out, moans becoming muffled as the bedding around you seemed to cup the lower half of your face. moving his hand to tug the sheets down and out of your way, nanami almost cooed at the way your mouth hung open.
“of course you can, doll. you don’t have to ask.” that was like an invitation to clench around his fingers, your moans surrounding you both as nanami moved his hand from your ass, simultaneously stroking himself as he pleased you. tongue in your ass, fingers pounding into you. “come on, give me what i want.”
the heat that surged through your body as you reached your peak was devastating. a dragged-out whine of his name marking the beginning of what could easily be your demise. pulling his fingers from you, nanami switched which hand tugged at himself, smearing your cum around his cock as he used his other hand to land a smack on your ass.
standing as you caught your breath, he pumped himself a few more times. he took in your current image. your back arched, a slight sheen of sweat decorating your skin, your cunt and ass glistening with your own cum and his saliva. his tie still pulling your hair into one ponytail, though it began to slip down due to movement. he spoke slowly and low. 
“could cum just from looking at you like this.”
“no, i want you, kento,” you almost fussed in a rushed out huff. 
“i know you do, baby. i’ll give you what you want.” he confirmed this as he tapped his tip against your entrance, pushing into your cunt. he almost fell apart as he felt you pulling him in. his drunkenness became obvious to him, as he felt a bit dizzy. your ass bouncing off his pelvis as he set a bruising pace. 
“i shouldn’t be fucking you like this.” he tried to ration with himself as he felt you tighten around him. your moans are messy and sweet. his drunken mind egging him on to pound into you. “you’re such a good girl. fuck, fuck— and i’m fucking you like a slut. i’m so sorry, doll.”
“ ‘s okay kento, ‘s okay…feels so good…” your voice sounded broken. your sounds become hoarse and whiny. looping his arm under your restrained arms, nanami pulled you back to his chest — the only thing stopping him from pulling you closer being your hands. his free hand wraps around your waist, pressing into your stomach. making matters much worse for you.
you had cum when he first pushed into you, and lost track of how many times he had you creaming around him. your orgasms had hurdled into a blurred mess. you weren’t sure you had ever stopped cumming, and you for sure knew he didn’t mind it. not with the way you were damn near milking him.
“you like being fucked like a little slut?” he almost choked out, his mouth pressed next to your ear. his voice made you delirious, so delirious that you almost felt like the drunk one. “i mean, shit, you're soaking me, doll. maybe i should take you like this more. hm?” 
“yeah…yeah…” you agreed, nodding your head dumbly. nanami was sure he was fucking you silly as he planted a kiss on the side of your face. letting you fall back to your original position, you felt your stomach tighten even more as you slurred out a confession, “ken, ‘m gonna cum againnn—”
his name started to sound like a plea on your tongue. the way you began to chant it as your walls clenched down around him was beyond beautiful to him. your words morphed into a silent fucked out scream as your mouth hung open. feeling you attempt to pull his cum from him in the process of your crash, he tried to ignore it. fucking you through your final orgasm. pulling out just in time, he stroked his cock once more. allowing his seed to spill over your ass — a bit dripping lower to cover your cunt. 
“there you go, baby. you did so good for me.” nanami praised you as he tugged at the belt around your wrists, letting your hands fall free as he dropped the belt onto the bed. then he worked to remove the tie from your braids. a drunken hiccup fell from his lips as he moved you further onto the bed, trying to make you comfortable before getting into bed with you.
“kento, we have to shower,” you said tiredly, still a little dazed from your numerous orgasms.
“we will, but i need you to calm down first.” he spoke as he laid your head on his bare chest. knowing you were mentally floating at the current moment. “stay with me right here for a bit. then we’ll do whatever you want.”
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yonderly-alamort · 1 year
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・✶ 。゚𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐏 ¡!
cw: possessiveness, jealousy, kinda toxic behavior, dog hybrid! lover, pervert! lover, panty sniffing, suggestive.
side note: you can find part 2 here! <3
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𖣠 POSSESSIVE PUP! that will always come and sniff your neck when you arrive home, trying to decipher if someone has been too close to you and waging his tail so you don't notice his jealousy. he's your good boy after all, isn't he?
𖣠 POSSESSIVE PUP! that follows you everywhere he's able to; always walking beside you around the house, wanting to go with you to the bathroom only to see the door shutting in his face and hear u telling him to wait outside, staying sit with you in the park and asking to be ur lovely companion whenever you have to go out/do groceries/have a meet up.
𖣠 POSSESSIVE PUP! that will make no noise and suffer silently when you leave the apartment, only to remember that some hours ago you told him to please, do the laundry.
𖣠 POSSESSIVE PUP! that finds a couple of used panties in the laundry basket, picking his favorite ones, and bringing them up to his face while taking a deep breath inhaling the deliciously sweet scent he ended up learning to adore.
𖣠 POSSESSIVE PUP! that almost whines and tears up when he has to actually put them in the washing machine, knowing that, when the task is finally done, the fabric will smell like lavender and ur fragance'll no longer be there.
𖣠 POSSESSIVE PUP! that brightens up when you arrive home and tell him that he did a very good job! the cutest smile appearing in his lips at your words, promising himself that sniffing your panties will not be the only thing he will accomplish, but also making you his owner forever <3
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© yonderly alamort 2022. please do not modify, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my permission.
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semiweirdshipper · 6 months
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Slashers as fathers with a child reader.
Notes: 100% NON-ROMANTIC. Platonic love only. Non-binary reader. The reader is less than ten years old (you decide the age). Freddy is alive and NOT a pedophile.
Summary: The slasher fathers feeling guilty after hurting their child's feelings. PART ONE.
Freddy Krueger
It felt like he had been a completely different person when he did it. Work had been stressing him out, parts of the house needed fixing, and he was a single parent. He wasn't getting enough rest. Eventually every little thing began to get to him.
Freddy hadn't been in his right mind when it happened. You loved making pictures for him, and one day you decided to nail some pictures on the wall by yourself. Not only had you nailed the pictures too low, but you had also accidentally made a large hole in the wall.
The incident had caused Freddy to explode. Not only did he yell at you for ruining the wall, but he ended up tearing one of your pictures in half. "I don't need this shit," He had shouted at you, "You think I feel like dealing with that? You ruined my wall, (y/n), and now I gotta fix it. I just- I can't... Ugh."
Freddy had avoided you for the remainder of the night- not because he was mad at you but because he was afraid he 'would' get mad at you again. It was a bad idea. He should have apologized for the way he acted. Because the next day when he woke up and went into his office, he noticed that every picture you had drawn him had been torn from the nails on the wall, shredded up and shoved in the trash.
Horror, heartache and regret immediately consumed his guilty conscience, and he rushed to find you. You were in your room playing with toys. It nearly destroyed him to see the way you flinched and scurried to hide behind a laundry basket.
"(y/n)," Freddy went to kneel in front of you, "Sweetie, what did you do? Why did you tear up daddy's pictures?"
"Because," You whimpered, keeping your teary face hidden, "You said you didn't need them. You... You tore it in half. I... I'm sorry, daddy. Hic... I-I-I'm sorry th-that I-I made a hole in the wall, an-and I'm sorry th-that you h-h-hate my pictures."
The amount of sadness, regret and complete and utter crushing guilt that fell upon Freddy was suffocating. Hearing your broken apology and seeing the way you were shaking caused him to be so disappointed with himself. He couldn't believe what he had done. Why did he do that? He would never do anything to cause you to feel this way, and he 'loved' your pictures.
And yet look what he caused. Not only did he hurt your feelings by being cruel, but he lost all of his near and dear pictures- even the ones you made when you were a toddler. They were all destroyed.
"I-I'll never color again," You swore in a loud whine.
"Oh no, sweetie, no," Freddy attempted to get closer to you, frowning heavily when you flinched at his touch, "Please don't do that. Listen- hey, look at me. I need you to look at me."
And when you did look at him, Freddy felt like punching himself in the face. You looked so scared, so sad and unbearably hurt. Oh gosh, what had he done? Why?
"Oh (y/n)..." Freddy sighed, shaking his head, "I'm so sorry. Yesterday I... I was just in such a bad mood an-and not because of you but because.... Look, (y/n), daddy didn't mean to act the way he did, and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that I yelled at you and I'm especially sorry that I did that to your picture. I regret it so much, you have no idea. Please... I'm sorry. I 'love' your pictures (y/n), please don't stop making them."
As Freddy eagerly waited for a brightened response from you, his heart sunk from his chest when you turned your back to him and quietly mumbled, "I wanna play with my toys please."
Excuses and more apologies sat on Freddy's tongue, but he denied saying them for he believed that you simply needed time to forgive him. "Ok sweetie," He got up to leave, "If you need anything, come get daddy, ok?"
"Ok, daddy."
While, over time, you did warm back up to your father, you never did say that you forgave him. And Freddy never got another picture. And he would never, ever stop regretting what he had done.
Michael Myers
Michael was overwhelmed by the frustration work caused. Due to lack of loyal employees, he was forced to work over-time and pull extra shifts. He was sore, tired and angry. It felt like he was the only person at work who ever did anything right.
And that anger built and built until it eventually brought out the worst in him and made him do something that he would regret for the rest of his life.
You loved (sport) and had been outside practicing with some of the neighbors. Michael had been inside attempting to relax when suddenly one of the living room windows shattered. He flinched and rushed to his feet, red clouding his vision when he saw a familiar ball on the floor.
On his way to the door, you ran inside breathless and gasping, "Ah! I'm sorry, daddy, it's my fault. I-I accidentally threw the ball too hard and-"
Michael, with his emotional bridge broken, raised his hand to cut you off. A seething scowl took place upon his face, and he began to lecture you out in sign language. "I don't wanna hear excuses. Why were you playing so close to the house? You should know better. Now look at what I have to fix. All I want is to relax and now I can't because of your stupid (sport). Why do you even play (sport)? You're not even good at it."
Even though his words were literally silent, the crushed look on your face explained that you knew exactly what he had said. Michael ignored your crestfallen face and quiet sobs and demanded that you help him clean up the glass before sending you to your room. Yes, your friends had watched the whole thing.
Michael's seething attitude didn't diminish until the next day after he got some good sleep. He soon realized that he felt bad for how he treated you yesterday and decided that he wanted to apologize. But when he went to your room, he was stricken to see all of your favorite sports gear sitting in a trashcan. (sport) merchandise and even pictures you drew were also in the trashcan.
Overcome with concern, Michael wandered to your bed where you were hiding underneath your blanket. When he tapped on you, you twitched but otherwise kept pretending to be asleep. So he tried again.
You caved and lowered the blanket. Michael didn't like the way you winced at him, your eyes squinted as if you were expecting the worst out of him. He quickly used sign language to ask, "What is going on? Why are you throwing all your (sport) stuff away?"
"I..." Your voice was hesitant and quiet as you gazed away, "I don't like (sport) anymore. I... I-I'm not good at it, an-and you h-hate me playing it, an-and I'm sorry that I broke the window... I'm sorry, daddy. I promise-huh... I-I-I'll never play (sport) again."
What? Michael's eyes nearly popped out, regret, guilt and fear clouding his soul. Oh no. What had he done? You didn't like (sport) anymore? And all because he had overreacted and told you that you weren't any good at it. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. It couldn't be like this. You couldn't stop doing what you loved all because he was stupid and having a bad day.
Sitting down on the edge of your bed, Michael quickly explained with sign language, "But you are good at (sport). Don't quit. I was having a bad day, I didn't mean to say that stuff. You don't have to quit. I'm sorry that I said that. Don't quit playing (sport), you love it."
Your lips wobbled and you turned your head away, your voice a broken whisper, "Ca-an I sleep some more before school. Please?"
Your lack of an answer both irritated Michael and broke his heart. He became angry at himself and regretful about what he had done. He wanted to talk to you more about it, but decided not to. Hopefully you would think about his apology and take all of your (sport) stuff out of the trash.
But, unfortunately for Michael, you never did get back into (sport), and he never got to stop feeling guilty about it.
Bo Sinclair + Uncle Vincent and Lester
Bo could admit that, on the surface, he had a very fragile temper. Ever since he had you he had tried his hardest to hide all the ugly parts of himself, especially his anger. Any time he began to lose his temper, he usually stomped off somewhere by himself to maybe punch something and take a moment to breathe.
So far he had done a fairly decent job.
Up until today that was.
It had been a long week. It was summer. Tourists were pouring in at random needing fast work done to their vehicles. The gas station and church needed extra attention. It was hot outside. And, once again, Bo had a very fragile temper.
It happened when he was elbow deep in truck externals. Ever since you could walk you had always been his little helper. Already at your age your dream was to be an engineer, but you still had a lot to learn. And the fact that you had a lot to learn is what caused Bo to snap.
With the impatience of the person waiting on their vehicle to be fixed, Bo also became impatient. You had been trying to help him, bringing him tools he needed.
Whenever you brought him one too many of the wrong tools, he ended up throwing a wrench and his hat to the ground. "What is your fuckin' problem?" He shouted at you, "Are ya stupid? If ya can't bring me what I need then get the fuck outta here."
You had flinched, tears immediately filling your eyes as you carefully backed up. Bo continued to give you a serious, livid glare that scared you, his words ringing in your head and shattering your heart. He watched you run away, his chest pounding with guilt he ignored as he finished his work.
Bo didn't see you for the remainder of the day, but he did check in with Vincent to make sure that you were alright. As night fell, he became more calm and relaxed, and soon he felt absolutely horrible for how he treated you. He sat on his bench rubbing his forehead in distress for almost an hour wishing he could take it all back.
He had shown you one of his worst sides. And it had hurt you. Now what was he supposed to do? He called you 'stupid'.
Unfortunately for Bo, he didn't get a chance to apologize that night for Vincent soon brought him a note explaining that Lester had taken you home with him for the weekend. Gosh darn it. He really wanted to apologize.
But his apology had to wait for- not one week or two weeks- but a whole month. That's how badly you were trying to avoid him. It was more than enough time for Bo to sit and think about his mistakes.
When Lester finally brought you home, Bo was grateful that you didn't appear to be angry or sad. You rushed to him and gave him a big, welcoming hug that soothed his core, "Daddy!"
"Hey, critter bug," Bo chuckled, ruffling your hair, "Missed you. Guess what? Some ol' couple brought in a beat up station wagon. Needs fixin'. Wanna help?"
"No thank ya," You said casually, leaning away from him, "I don't wanna be a engineer anymore."
Bo's world stopped rotating. "What?" He gave you a stabbed look, "But ya love doin' that stuff?"
"Not anymore," Your voice turned into a lightly disappointed mumble.
Bo's mouth went completely dry. He didn't know what to do or say. All of this time apart he thought that you would have gotten over his temper tantrum, but apparently you 'really' got over it. He had been the boulder that crushed your dreams. And it...
It almost made him wanna cry.
Bo swallowed, trying not to seem too beaten down, "But... Who's gonna be my helper?"
You smiled and pointed to the man standing beside the truck, "Uncle Lester will."
"Right..." Bo nodded, his chest aching with guilt, self-hatred, regret and sadness, "Right."
You never helped him with another car again.
Hannibal Lecter
Hannibal liked to believe that he was the ultimate best at keeping his temper under control. He never got mad at you or expressed any negative emotions towards you. If you needed to be taught a lesson, then he would sit with you and have a firm, constructive conversation about how you needed to improve.
Your bond was strong and healthy and it made Hannibal proud. You even took after him by wanting to be a professional cook. And Hannibal was ecstatic to help you carry that dream into reality.
But one day all of his pride, arrogance and content came to an end.
You had woken up before him that morning and had snuck to the kitchen to make him breakfast. However, things went south and you accidentally ended up breaking one of his rarest, most treasured dishes- a dish that was literally one of it's only kind on the whole planet. And it upset him.
"I-I'm sorry, daddy," You had apologized desperately, "I-I just thought since you liked the plate so much you would also like eating off of it. I didn't mean to break it!"
Hannibal, his heart racing and his nerves burning with anger, had said almost too vastly, "And what lead you to believe that I would enjoy such horrible cooking on my most treasured dish? You knew these pieces were not meant to be eaten off of, yet you disrespected me anyway."
"Horrible cooking?" You murmured.
Because Hannibal was hurt, he couldn't resist the urge to make you hurt as well. "Yes. You are an awful cook. Your presence in this kitchen has always been a waste of time."
The way your eyes widened with hurt and how your hands immediately flew to your chest would be a sight that haunted Hannibal for the rest of his life. Slowly your eyes closed and you began to cry, your hands going to cover your face as you ran away, a sobbed "I'm sorry" echoing through the hall.
Instead of feeling satisfied that he hurt your feelings as intended, Hannibal immediately felt remorseful and guilty. Goodness. He knew that you were young and didn't mean to break his plate. He just... He just treasured the dish so much and now it was ruined forever. He let his emotions get to him, and he hurt you in the process. While it was your fault, he didn't blame you. You were innocent and you just wanted to make him happy.
After he cleaned up his broken dish, Hannibal searched for you and found you snuggled up on the couch. He sat in front of you and spoke calmly, "I'm sorry for getting angry at you. It wasn't my intention. You were just trying to make me breakfast and wound up making a mistake. It happens to all of us."
"I'm sorry..." You whimpered, obviously still upset.
"It is alright," Hannibal reached out and gently squeezed your shoulder. "I'll get started on breakfast."
"Can I help?" You asked hopefully.
Hannibal gave you a hesitant grimace, "I think it would be best if you skipped helping me in the kitchen for today."
Instantly your eyes puffed red and turned watery. Hannibal left you alone to exhale your emotions. He knew that you would be upset for a while, but he too was also upset. He just needed some time is all.
But apparently he was wrong yet again.
After that day, you never helped Hannibal in the kitchen again. For weeks after the incident, you didn't even eat the food that he cooked. It was like you banned yourself from the kitchen entirely. He had tried to coax you into helping him, but you always found excuses not to.
Soon Hannibal learned that he had destroyed your passion for cooking by making you believe that you were a terrible chef. And he regretted it so much that it was nearly unbearable. Hannibal couldn't handle mistakes he couldn't fix.
And no matter how hard he tried, he knew that he could never mend your feelings that he severed.
-
In part two I planned to age up the reader and have them secretly doing their passion behind their dad's back. And the slasher will find out and be like "what, I thought you gave up on that! Holy sh*t, I'm so happy". And the reader will be pleasantly surprised.
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wynnyfryd · 5 months
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Trailer park Steve AU part 20
part 1 | part 19 | ao3
"Eddie! Hey!" he brightens. Tells himself to take it down a notch; schools his face and voice into something a little less pathetically eager. “What’s up, man?” 
“Not much, dude,” Eddie teases, one dimple popping out. He looks good. Dressed up. Red and black flannel with the top buttons undone; light dusting of chest hair on pale skin, the edge of a tattoo Steve’s never seen. He’s got his black leather jacket and black jeans with no holes and black riding boots on. All he’s missing is a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm.
“What’s with the, uh…?” Steve gestures to his outfit, because he realizes he’s sort of just been staring at the dip of his throat. Eddie raises an eyebrow. Steve clarifies, “You got a date or something?” 
“Oh, this?” Eddie laughs. “Uh, no. Nope. Can’t say that I do.”
He hops up backward onto the counter, his ass right next to Steve’s elbow, legs dangling over the edge, and he ignores Steve’s protests to get down from there as he leans in to ask in a mischievous hush, “Can you keep a secret?” 
Steve’s breath catches in his throat, twists into a bitter twinge of nerves. He can keep a lot of secrets. Maybe he learned that from his dad.
“Yeah…?” He leans in on his elbows.
Eddie moves in closer still, cups his hand around his mouth and whispers, “I totally forgot to do laundry last week.” 
Oh, my god. “You’re an idiot,” Steve laughs. “That’s your big confession?” 
Eddie’s smile widens. “Yeah. I got distracted with rehearsals. This was the only clean shit I had left.” He kicks one leg out straight to show off his boot. “I’m only wearing these so you can’t tell I don’t have socks on.”
“Gross!” Steve laughs harder and shoves at Eddie, who tumbles theatrically over the edge of the counter, flinging himself to the ground and rolling onto his back so he can fake a couple death spasms and then lie there with his tongue lolling out of his mouth like a fucking weirdo. “You’re so weird.” 
“This night sucked before I showed up, and you know it,” Eddie says from the floor. He opens one eye to wink at Steve, then he gives one final death twitch and drops the act, popping back up to mirror Steve’s pose, elbows propped on the counter between them. 
Steve’s arm hair stands on end. “How was your show, anyway?” 
“Oh, it was greeeat,” Eddie says. “Drunk assholes yelling slurs at me, Gareth barfing in the bushes. Standard Hideout gig.”
"Was someone harassing you?" Steve frowns. He knows the Hideout's a shithole — a ‘dependable dumpster fire where we practice for the gigs that actually pay us,’ as Eddie had put it — but he thought the people there were, like, accepting, or whatever.
Surely Eddie's style isn't any more out there than the rest of the regulars.
"Holster your eyebrows," Eddie sighs, "it was fine. Really.” 
“Holster my— dude, what?”
“Your eyebrows,” he repeats. He reaches out with the tip of his pointer finger and gently prods the space between them. “At ease, gentlemen.”
“So weird,” Steve says again. He rolls his eyes and swats Eddie’s hand away, and Eddie just laughs and says ‘There we go!’ because his antics actually did get Steve to unfurrow his face. Little bastard. “Were you gonna rent something, or…?”
“Hell no, my late fees are fucking ridic—”
Eddie cuts himself off, his eyes darting over Steve’s shoulder.
He goes skittish all of a sudden, starts backing toward the exit, stammering, “Ridiculously non-existent. Is, uh, is what I was gonna say. Obviously. Um. Right.” 
His back hits the front door, the bell jangling overhead, and before Steve gets a chance to ask what the hell his problem is now, Eddie starts rambling at triple speed that “Dustin wanted me to check in on you and now I have checked in on you so okay-gotta-go-bye” and practically sprints out of the store.
Doesn’t even look back to give Steve a parting wave. 
What the fuck?
What the fuck?
“What. the fuck…” Steve jumps a foot in the air at the sound of Robin’s voice. He whips around to look at her; realizes she must have been what spooked Eddie. Her nose and cheeks are bright red from the cold, her eyes bugging out of her head, and her jaw is halfway to the floor as she gapes at him, “...was that?”
part 21
tag list part 1 below cut comment if you want to be added tomorrow
@heartsong18 @hellion-child @hiimlevi @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @noodle-shenaniganery @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @pending-dope-username @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @questionablequeeries @remosdeerica @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @shamelesspatrolshepherdcowboy @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @taleah-bonnick @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thespaceantwhowrites @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures
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begko · 4 months
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keep quiet. -seijoh 4
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warnings: 18+ MDNI, poly, implied masturbation, implied sex(? I think), idk how to tag so lmk if there's anything else
contains: fem reader, seijoh 4 x reader (but mostly Matsukawa x reader and Hanamaki x reader)
wc: 1.2 k
a/n: I feel like there's not enough seijoh 4 fics out there so I decided to write one myself lol. This is my first fic so if anyone likes this I'll finish this and try to post more. Just ask and I'll lyk if I can do it!
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Living in an apartment with four other boys never left your days feeling dull. Although you were all in your 20’s and supposedly more mature than your younger selves, they were still boys. 
They would each find ways to somehow piss you off, whether consciously or not. Dirty laundry in the living room, a bag of chips left open on the counter, or the loud moans of a random girl spilling through the crack in their bedroom door. These things wouldn’t typically leave you feeling so annoyed, but hearing a repeating “Yes Oikawa!” at 3 AM– the night before your abnormal psychology midterm may I add– was seriously starting to test your patience. 
Before you knew it, you found your feet gliding stomping down the hallway towards the brunette’s room, unknowingly drawing the other three to peek out from their own doors. 
“I SWEAR TO GOD TOORU. IF SHE DOESN’T SHUT UP YOU WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN.” You emphasized your threat by loudly pounding your fist on his door, then swiftly retreating back to your room, slamming your door for good measure. You put your earbuds back in and tried to focus on the music that filled your ears.
Thankfully, you eventually drifted to sleep, but the groggy feeling you had the next morning did not dissipate, even with the large coffee you had made. After fumbling with your keys for what seemed like forever, you were met with the faces of your roommates, all waiting to greet you. They each gave you a warm smile, which normally would brighten your mood a bit, but the sight of Tooru’s face made a frown appear on your face. Without a word, you disappeared into your room and threw yourself onto the bed, hoping to catch up on some sleep.
“What did I do?” Hajime immediately slapped the back of Tooru’s head in response. “You idiot! She had an exam today and you haven’t even apologized for keeping her up!” Hajime clicked his tongue in annoyance at his best friend. Tooru rubbed the back of his head to soothe the pain. “Well how do I make her forgive me? I didn’t know she had an exam!” 
Hajime merely shook his head, “Figure it out.” he said before going to check on you. As he opened your door, he found you– jeans and all – laying face-down on your bed. A groan of acknowledgement came from your figure, causing Hajime to let out a breathy laugh. “You okay?” 
“Headache.” Was all you managed to say before beckoning him to lay with you. He obliged, letting you roll over before laying on top of your half-made bed with you. He adjusted you both so your head would be comfortably caged in his arms, while you curled into his warmth.
“It’s alright, just get some sleep. I’ll stay with you, baby.” There it was. That nickname he gave you. It always put a smile on your face, this time no different, as you drifted off with your lips sleepily curled up at the corners.
While, yes, they were annoying at times, one could argue that they had a soft spot for you. They would often lay with you if they knew you wanted the company, just as Hajime was doing. When a boy would break your heart, you would find one of them waiting outside of your lecture hall with a bouquet of daffodils, ready to take you out to eat or to a club. With them, you never needed to watch cringey rom-coms while incessantly crying. They distracted you from the heartache, until it eventually melted away. And those nicknames, god, those nicknames. You were sure that they meant nothing, but the way that they locked eyes with you as they uttered ‘Princess’ or ‘Darling’ made your heart stop in ways that felt more than platonic. Sometimes, when you touched yourself in the dead of the night, you found yourself imagining them saying it, driving you to your climax. But you would never admit that to any of them. Just as they wouldn’t admit that you would sometimes let your moans get loud enough for them to hear, driving them to let their hands wander down beyond the waistbands of their boxers. They quickly chased their high, knowing that without the sweet noises of your pleasure seeping through the thin walls, they would be left unsatiated.
You awoke to the delicious smell of food wafting in from the kitchen. After stretching a bit, you opened your eyes to find Hajime no longer next to you. You followed the smell into the main area of your apartment, finding the boys sitting at the kitchen counter chatting while Tooru stood with a pink apron on. 
Your small laugh caused them all to turn their heads to wear you stood, a smile appearing on each of their faces. You walked up to them and put your hands on the counter, surveying the mess left on top of it.
“I made you your favorite! And before you say anything, I was just about to clean up.” That drew another giggle to fall from your lips. You mumbled out a ‘You better.” as Tooru wrapped his arms around your form. “I’m sorry for keeping you up last night, please forgive me?” 
“ Fine, just buy a gag for the next time you wanna bring one of them home.” The four laughed while you began to set the table.
After dinner, Tooru told you to put on a movie while the rest of them did the dishes and grabbed something sweet to snack on. You opted to take a quick shower before doing so and changed into a comfortable tank top and shorts. As you plopped down on the couch and simply chose to re-watch The Hunger Games, Hiro and Issei sat down on either side of you. Issei guided you between his legs, allowing your head to lay on his chest, as Hiro moved your legs into his lap. Hiro draped a blanket over your form, as you gave him a small smile of thankfulness. Soon after, Hajime and Tooru sat in the smaller armchairs and started the movie. 
You’ve seen this movie a million times, after all it was your favorite. But as you watched Katniss tie herself to a tree in an attempt to get some sleep, you began to grow bored. You shifted from your position, fidgeting in hopes of becoming comfortable again. “Sit still, pretty girl. I wanna know what happens next.” You heard Issei whisper into your ear. You freeze. For some reason, the mixture of the hot breath that you felt on your neck and the raspiness of his voice made your stomach form a knot. But it wasn’t until you felt Hiro’s hand start to slowly travel up the length of your leg that you finally realized what you were feeling. You felt hot, making you squirm even more. Issei’s arm snaked around your middle, holding you in place. “I said sit still. We’ll give you a reward if you’re good.” Suddenly it felt like your senses were heightened. The feeling of Issei’s arm and Hiro’s wandering hands made your breathing come to a halt. Is this a dream?
“Do you trust us, pretty girl?”
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cumikering · 3 months
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Neighbour Keegan Russ x reader
3.4k | fluff Fake dating on Christmas but wishing it wasn’t. Hey, where did the rest of the wine go?
“Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Keegan turned to you standing at the door of the laundry room.
He chuckled. “Likewise. Seems like everyone’s already gone for the holidays.”
“You’re not going home?”
He shook his head. “My break’s too short to make it worth the trip. You?”
“I’m flaking.” You tipped your basket into the machine next to him. “I’m gonna say I’m sick.”
“Oh, why?”
“My cousin’s family is hosting. She’s not my favourite.”
He laughed. “What’s your beef with her?”
“She’s such a show-off, won’t stop talking about her boyfriend and the fancy gifts she’s getting.” You inserted the coins into the machine with more force than needed. “And I think it’s finally getting to my mum, because she’s asking about my relationship status.”
“Well, if you need company…” he said, trying to not sound too hopeful. I’d love to spend some time with you.
You turned to him, brow raised. “Wait, you mean, you want to come with? Be my plus one?”
“That wasn’t- well, yeah. I can do that.” He shrugged. “If you want.”
This wasn’t the direction he was heading for. He was going to offer to spend Christmas together, maybe exchange gifts, but he surely wasn’t going to take that back. Anything for a chance with you.
“Really?”
He always enjoyed seeing your face brighten like that, despite never getting the chance to see it enough. When you moved in down the hall a few months back, he’d always found you cute, even managed to exchange numbers ‘in case you need anything’. But between deployments, he was lucky to even catch a glimpse of you once a week, leaving any possible advances towards you simply a fantasy to him.
But the opportunity presented itself that late Sunday morning and he wasn’t going to let it go.
“I don’t mind. Spending Christmas alone is depressing anyway.” He smiled. “What do I need? Wine, gifts?”
You shook your head. “Just show up, that’s all.”
“I just need to look good?” he teased.
You laughed. “I didn’t want to put it that way.”
“That’s alright. I know my place. You’re welcome to dress me up.”
“Okay.” You looked down at your basket. “I’ll text you when I get the details. See you next week.” And with that, you left, avoiding his gaze.
He was out of practice, but was he that out of practice that he came on too strong and scared you? He certainly didn’t mean to make it suggestive. This was going to end before it even started. He grimaced to himself.
This fake dating shenanigan was never going to work if you could barely look at your ‘boyfriend’. Dress him up? That time you saw Keegan on a run shirtless out your window you had to sit down.
But he was casual about the offer. Obviously it meant nothing to him, just something to do for the holidays - anything was better than celebrating alone. You didn’t have to make it weird.
It was just a lunch.
So when he asked if you wanted to have dinner at his place on the 24th, you didn’t know if you were supposed to be excited or not. But surely he was just being nice. He was nice.
He didn’t speak much (you wished he did though because his voice was divine), but he was always nice ever since you moved in, telling you to not hesitate to text if you needed anything. You knew he meant it, but between his tours, he was still a busy man you didn’t want to bother. Instead, you delivered home cooked meals after each deployment.
Maybe he was trying to return the favour.
When you said yes, well, Keegan couldn’t contain his excitement. He made a run to the fancy supermarket after work. He’d been told that women liked guys who cooked and he wasn’t horrible at it. It was his time to shine.
He welcomed you to his apartment with a smile. He hoped you didn’t judge the state of his kitchen too much. He had underestimated the effort required for said dinner, but the way you lit up made it all worth it.
“Would you like some wine?”
“No, thanks. I don’t really drink.”
He sat down, the dishes across the table. “Well, then your family is getting two bottles.”
“Please, you didn’t have to.”
“Are you sure I don’t have to try to impress them?” Isn’t that what boyfriends do?
“You’re doing more than enough coming tomorrow. My mum’s going to like you too much.” You let out a small laugh.
You too, I hope. He helped you to a serving of potato gratin. “I really don’t mind.”
“This is delicious. I didn’t know you’re such a great cook,” you said after a bite.
He smiled proudly. You didn’t need to know he persuaded (or coerced, who knows) the cook at base to coach him for the night.
Your eyes flicked back onto your plate, but his remained on you. You were a pleasure to look at, and the fact that you were there in his apartment, letting him cook dinner for you, made him chew on his lip.
Having usually only met in passing, he finally had the chance to ask more about you. And you smiled again when you talked about what you liked doing for fun, the passion oozing out of you. He could listen to you all night.
He wished he had dessert as a reason to keep you longer, but the conversation moved to the couch after you helped him clean up. He breathed a small sigh of relief, feeling like a boy clueless on how to keep their crush’s attention.
“What are you wearing tomorrow? I’ll pick something that goes with you.” He figured he was too bold the other day with his statement.
“Actually, if you don’t mind, I might as well pick your outfit while I’m here.”
Well, he didn’t expect that.
Keegan sat on his bed as you went through his wardrobe. How cheesy would it be if he were to pull out his guitar and serenade you? He, too, was told the ladies liked men who played the guitar. Why do you think he picked it up in high school?
“I can’t pick between these two.” You held up a maroon sweater and a dark green button down.
“I probably I shouldn’t be offering after such a huge dinner, but do you need me to put them on to see?”
You looked at him with a little glint in your eye as you laid the clothes next to him. “If you insist.”
Oh, he loved making you smile.
It was adorable how you quickly everted your gaze when he took his shirt off (he was hoping you’d look), but at least he enjoyed the attention you gave him when he was in said tops. You settled on the sweater and black jeans before excusing yourself for the night.
“We don’t need to take a cab tomorrow,” he said at your door. “I haven’t driven anyone in a civilian setting in a long time, but I can drive us.”
You laughed. “I can’t even begin to guess why you feel the need to tell me this, but I am not reassured at all.”
“People at work think I’m a bad driver, but I’ve never been in any accident.” He placed a hand over his chest. “I promise to keep you safe.”
“You better.”
The next morning, as your (self-proclaimed) arm-candy for the day, Keegan did way more push ups than he needed to. He also managed to retrieve the cologne he hadn’t seen in at least a year. He’d made it his mission to make sure taking him to your family was worth your while.
He fussed with the car audio. “Would you like any music?”
“I thought the etiquette is the driver gets to pick.” You strapped yourself in, the belt snug against your dark green top.
“Fair enough,” he said with an amused smile. He pulled off the lot as the familiar intro to Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High played.
“Oh, I like this song!”
“Sing with me.” He turned up the volume.
The both of you sang wholeheartedly, and he knew he shouldn’t be looking, but he had to see the smile on your face. You were rather quiet in the short interactions you had, but you’d opened up the night before, allowing your playful personality to shine. You were a steady stream of glee that didn’t drain him and he couldn’t get enough.
He should have made his move much sooner.
“You wanna tell me about your cousin’s infamous boyfriend?”
“They started dating in the summer. Bella couldn’t shut up about how he went to Ivy League and got his masters, how much he’s making and his fancy vacations.” You chuckled. “Well, the first time we met, she dropped her very expensive earring at the restaurant. The three of us looked for it under the table and then he said ‘threesome’ under his breath.”
Keegan bellowed a laugh, looking over to you. “What the hell?”
“I wish I was joking.” You shook your head. “I don’t think he intended to say it out loud because when I turned to him, he looked like he was about to piss himself. He never looked me in the eye the rest of the day.”
He stifled last of his laughs. “If I were him I’d have left. Forever.”
“She’s always smiling with him so I’m happy for her too, but he’s definitely not as cool as she painted him to be.”
“Wait, that’s who I’m up against? I don’t stand a chance. I should have got a fancier gift than wine.”
“I didn’t want to compare, but you’re the far better company. Far better looking too.”
He didn’t have to look at you to tell you were smiling. He hoped you meant that.
“So I have to stare at you a bit to sell it, right?”
You laughed. “Well, you don’t have to.”
“What if I can’t help it?”
“Then I guess I’ll have to stare back.”
“Should I- can I hold your hand?” He was glad he didn’t have to look at you because he wouldn’t dare to ask otherwise.
When you placed a hand on his forearm, he gripped it against his thigh. His heart raced.
And yours now too.
Keegan went far beyond the extra mile for this silly lunch, and what for? It only made it hard to dilute your hopefulness that this meant the slightest bit more than nothing.
A sliver of dread crept up. If your mum liked him too much, and you knew she would, she’d keep asking about him, and what would you say? You wouldn’t want to break her heart, but most importantly, you didn’t want to break yours. How were you going to say ‘we won’t be seeing each other anymore’ without your genuine disappointment bleeding through?
But you were a big girl. It was your petty idea to rub it in Bella’s face that you had a handsome and well-mannered plus one with a stupidly silky voice. You told yourself you’d worry about that after.
You turned to him. He’d styled his hair differently and shaved that morning, his light stubble accentuated his jaw. He smelt good – fresh and clean. His sweater was snug enough to outline his strong arms and chest. You hoped he didn’t mind you looking. Maybe you should have taken his offer to dress him up.
He had loosened his grip on you, thumb now stroking over your knuckles. He had pretty hands, his long fingers curled over the steering wheel. You entwined yours with his.
Despite the weather, your hand remained warm in his on the porch. You looked up at him, rocking on the balls of your feet, but his gentle smile and the squeeze to your hand slowed you down.
It was your first time being this close to him. His beautiful blue eyes twinkled in the sun. The eye-contact lingered.
“Coming!” A voice called from inside as footsteps approached.
“Show time,” he muttered close to your ear.
Bella couldn’t hide her surprise when she opened the door and you bit back a smirk.
“Hi, I’m Keegan. You must be Bella. Nice to meet you.” He extended his hand.
She blinked before taking it. She swallowed and took another second before turning to you. “I thought you were joking about bringing someone.”
He chuckled. “Well, here I am in the flesh. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No, not at all.” She stepped aside. “Please come in.”
He followed behind you as the three of you made your way past the kitchen. You hugged your mum and aunt before introducing him.
“From us. Thanks for having me, ma’am.” He handed your aunt the wines and gave your mum a squeeze.
You went to the dining room where your dad and Bella’s chatted. Keegan addressed them with sir and exchanged pleasantries before you followed Bella back to the kitchen. You didn’t miss how the table was only set for six.
She linked arms with you, eyes narrowed. “Not bad,” she muttered.
I know. “Ryan’s not joining?”
“We broke up last month.”
You stopped to look at her, brows furrowed. “No. What happened?” You genuinely thought they were going to last a while.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not sad about it.” Her manicured fingers squeezed your forearm.
“Are you… Sure you’re okay? You seemed happy with him.”
“I am. I guess the honeymoon period wore off, that’s all,” she said with a shrug. “Anyway, for my birthday, he got me a Dyson Air Wrap gift set, but it’s so not in my colour.” She shook her head and continued to walk. “He should have known. How did he think I was going to like it?”
You blinked. You’d appreciate even a quarter of a Dyson Air Wrap, but you knew it was another one of her humble brags. You let her have her moment.
Your mum laughed with her sister over tea. They didn’t get to see each other often and you thought it was worth the hassle of enduring Bella that day to see her like so. She gave you a pleased look and a thumbs up as you grabbed extra tableware and you had to stifle a giggle.
Keegan flashed you a smile when you entered the room to set the table for him. Making conversation with your dad and uncle, he looked like he fit right in.
Lunch began shortly and the chatter built as the wine poured. Keegan sat next to you and helped you with the food before himself. He put his hand over yours when you mouthed ‘thanks’.
“I heard you moved to a new apartment? How’s it been?” your aunt asked.
“I did. I love it there.” You turned to Keegan. “Actually, that’s how we met. He’s my neighbour.”
She cooed. “How sweet! Looks like you settled right in then.”
“How big is your apartment? Mine is huge. It’s such a pain to clean,” Bella said offhandedly.
You blinked. Your aunt turned to her with furrowed brows.
“How’s the new job, kid?” your dad asked. “I hope better than the last.”
Before you could answer, Bella interjected. “Oh, did I tell you I’m getting promoted next month? They’re giving me my own office too.”
The table fell silent. After a beat you said, “That’s great. I hope you like the new office.”
“How’s your new job? Tell us,” Keegan said.
You gave him a small smile before turning to your dad again.
After lunch, the seven of you moved to the living room for the gift exchange. Keegan didn’t leave your side, a hand on your knee as you unwrapped your gifts.
You got your parents a couple’s spa trip, a tea set and a board game for your aunt and uncle, and a perfume for Bella. In turn, you received a pretty charm bracelet from your parents and a nice pair of headphones from Bella’s. You gave each of them a squeeze for the gift.
As Keegan helped you put the bracelet on, you ignored Bella when she asked what brand it was, thankful she didn’t even comment on the perfume. You didn’t expect much from her, but you definitely didn’t expect the gift card to the hairdresser and the little note that it came with. Hopefully you can fix your hair <3
You froze and Keegan leaned over to read the card in your hand.
“I’m sorry, is there something wrong with her hair?” he narrowed his eyes at her.
She shrugged. “Oh, it’s just dry, that’s all.”
Your aunt gave her a disapproving look, but she wasn’t looking.
“I don’t think there’s anything that needs fixing,” he said firmly, his stare unwavering. “Her hair’s perfectly fine.”
Before Bella could respond, you excused yourself to the kitchen and your mum quickly followed.
“Oh, I’m sorry for making you come,” she said, stoking your back. “I know you two don’t really get along.”
“It’s not your fault, mum.” You frowned as you poured yourself a glass of wine and downed it. “She can say whatever she wants. I shouldn’t care what she thinks of my hair, or my apartment, or my job.”
“Maybe she’s a bit envious today. I mean, you’re the one with the nice boy with you.” She smiled playfully. “You should see the way she keeps stealing glances at him. Too bad he’s too busy staring at you to notice.”
You let out a small laugh.
“That’s my girl.” She gave you a hug. “I like that he stood up for you. It’s the only way my daughter deserves to be treated.”
You smiled against her shoulder and the both of you stayed in the embrace for a bit longer.
The living room was tense when you returned to your seat next to Keegan. He gave you a sympathetic look as he rubbed your arm. Bella didn’t meet your eyes, her arms crossed over her chest. She’d been told off by her mum, and it was hard for him to bite back his laugh.
Your aunt broke the silence by suggesting a few photos by the Christmas tree before you left. He volunteered, making sure you looked perfect in them.
You bade your goodbyes and once again gave your aunt a hug. You left the damned gift card on the couch and took Keegan’s arm to the car. He had noticed you were more smiley than before the incident.
You groaned when he drove off. “Now you know why I was going to bail.” You slumped over, looking out the window.
“I’m sorry about what happened."
“M’glad you’re with me. Would’a been pathetic going home alone and pissed.”
“But the rest of your family’s very nice. I actually had a nice time.”
”Yeah, but how much of that was fake?”
“What?” He took a quick glance at you.
“Y’know, the hand holding, standing up for me.”
“None. Nothing I did was fake.”
“You sure about that?”
He laughed. “Were you drinking? In the kitchen?”
“Well, yes,” you hesitated. “How’d you know?”
He pulled over and turned to you. “If I didn’t like you I wouldn’t have come.”
“Don’t joke around now.” Your eyes narrowed.
“I’m not.” He took your hand, lips quirked into a small smile. “Sometimes I linger around at my door so I can catch you, but I never do because I come home too late.”
Your frown remained and his heart raced as the silence ensued. Shit, he must have read the room wrong. How much of this would you remember?
“You should talk more,” you finally said. “Your voice is perfection, addicting,”
He let out a relieved chuckle, thumb grazing over your knuckles. “I sound that good?”
You shrugged, flashing him a playful smile.
“Can’t help thinking had I been more forward from the start, maybe I wouldn’t just be ‘someone you’re taking’ today.”
“There’s next year, no?”
He held your gaze. “If you were sober, I’d ask if I could kiss you.”
“Why not now?”
“I want you to remember, so I’ll wait until we get home.”
“That’s a shame, but at least the wine will make your driving somewhat bearable.”
He laughed, pressing your hand to his lips. “You better sober up fast, because I’ve been waiting too long.”
More Keegan: second chance on Tinder, werewolf AU
@glitterypirateduck @sofasoap @macravishedbymactavish @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @tiredmetalenthusiast @caramlizedtomatoes @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mysticslumber @tipsykeen
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buckys-wintersoldier · 3 months
Text
Roses | Bucky Barnes
Pairing -> 40’s!Husband!Bucky Barnes x 40’s!Wife!Female!Reader
Summary -> Your Husband comes back from his training at the army and brings you a surprise home. But he isn’t the only one who has a surprise, you have a wonderful surprise for him too.
Warnings -> (G) none, just fluff
Wordcount -> 1.1k
Prompt -> Fluffcember Day 19 | Family time au | AFG Fluff Bingo | N2 | buying flowers | @anyfandomfluffbingo
Request -> @sergeantbarnessdoll I have a Fluff BINGO request for you! Buying Flowers with 40s Bucky🥰 Take your time🩵
A/N -> Thank you for the request and I hope you like what I made with that. I also want to thank @buckyysdoll for your excitement and feedback. Divider made by @firefly-graphics.
Masterlist | Fluffcember | AFG Fluff Bingo Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist
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You’re doing some laundry while you wait for your husband to come home. He was at the training for the army for a few weeks, and you can’t wait to have him in your arms again. The house is too quiet when he isn’t there, and you can’t cuddle with him at night.
Especially right now when you have the most wonderful surprise for him, you need him cuddling with you all the time. You could have told him already, but you didn’t want to write it in a letter. You wanted to tell him the surprise personally, and you know he will love it.
You two always wanted it, and to finally see the pictures of your little baby inside your body is the most wonderful thing for you right now. Maybe after having Bucky by your side in a few minutes.
When you are finished with the laundry, you hear the door swing open, and your husband walks into your shared house. “Doll? I’m home; where is my sweet girl?” He asks, and you blush immediately when you walk towards him.
Bucky always makes you blush. When you met him for the first time, his first sentence made you blush, even when it was just a flirty “such a gorgeous girl." The smirk on his lips makes you almost melt whenever you look at him, and everyone wants him. So many girls tried to get him, but he always said no. He just wants you, and he has you, his wife and perfect girl.
You look through the door, and when he sees you, his smile widens, and he hides something behind his back. “Hey, James,” you chuckle, knowing he loves it when you call him that. You walk closer, and when you’re just a few inches away from him, he leans closer to capture his lips softly with yours.
“I missed you so much, baby doll,” he whispers against your lips. “I missed you too, but I have a surprise for you,” you say, and his eyes brighten. Just the word surprise is enough for him to turn into a little boy, and he gets so excited that he could jump around.
“I love surprises, but not as much as I love you,” he says excitedly, taking a step back. “But I have a surprise for you too,” he says, showing you the roses he holds in his hand and which he has hidden behind his back.
Your favorite flowers were red roses, and he brought them. They look wonderful, and you can’t help but inhale their smell deeply. Then you look into your boyfriend's steel blue eyes, and you almost forget what you want to say; his eyes look like an ocean of feelings. The water is his love for you, and the waves are his fascination and adoration when he looks at you.
“Thank you,” you whisper, and you take the roses to place them in a vase with water. Bucky uses the time to take his jacket off and place his bag to the side. When he follows you into the kitchen, his excitement grows, and his hands find their way to your hips, pressing his body against your back and looking over your shoulder while you place the roses in the vase.
When you finish it, you turn his arms around and face him. His hands are still on your hips, and his lips are just inches away from yours. Your fingers were running softly through his hair; you missed touching it while he was in the army. “What’s the surprise? You can’t let me wait for so long,” he whispers impatiently, and you laugh.
“We have to go to the living room for that. I have something for you, but it’s there,” you say, and he picks you up to carry you into the living room. Your legs are immediately wrapped around his waist, and you lay your head on his shoulder, looking at his beautiful, formed jaw. “You’re beautiful,” you mumble, and you brush your fingers over the stubbles of his beard. It’s soft, but it tickles slightly, and you giggle a bit.
When you reach the living room, he lets you down and walks to the couch to let himself take a seat there. You walk to the shelf and take a few pictures before you walk towards him and sit on his lap, facing him with a wide smirk.
“Ready?” You ask nervously, and Bucky nods. You inhale deeply before you hold the ultrasound pictures in front of his face or more into his face. He chuckles and pulls your hand a few inches away so he can look at the pictures.
Then he is quiet, staring at the pictures, at you, and back at the pictures. You’re nervous, and with every second he just stares at the picture, it gets worse. You always wanted to have kids with the two of you, but what when he isn’t ready yet? Maybe he doesn’t want to have a kid yet. Your hands are sweaty, and you squirm softly in his lap.
“Bucky?” You ask softly, and he immediately looks at you. His lips form into a big smile, and he wraps his arms around you and presses you tight against him. Then he suddenly stands up and spins you two around. “That’s perfect; you’re pregnant; we are going to become parents,” he says excitedly, and when he stops spinning you around, he looks into your eyes.
He often does it, but this time it’s different; it's more intimate and filled with more adoration. “Can I touch it?“ He asks and points to your stomach. You giggle, nodding and following his hand when he reaches down to softly touch your stomach.
You smile when his hand slides over the fabric of his t-shirt, and you wear his clothes often. His smile grows when he feels the little bulge in your belly, and within a minute, he kneels in front of you, shoving the fabric of the shirt up to reveal your stomach.
“Hey, little one,” he says softly, kissing your skin. Your fingers are in his hair, and you look at him with nothing but love in your eyes. “I’m your daddy, and I can’t wait to hold you in my arms,” he adds, and you feel your tears burning in your eyes. He is the cutest man you know, and to see him talking to your little one in your stomach makes him even more adorable.
Bucky stands up and captures your face with his hands. “Thank you so much for everything. For being my beautiful wife and for making me a daddy of the most wonderful little one, this is definitely the best surprise. I love you so much, doll,” he whispers, wiping the tears of joy from your cheeks. “I love you too, Bucky,” you mumble and lean closer to press your lips on his.
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Taglist: @nicoline1998enilocin @sergeantbarnessdoll @kandis-mom @km-ffluv @identity2212 @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @ergle-barnes @sweater-bee @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @harleycao
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lovedazai · 1 year
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LAUNDRY DAY
ft. nagi + gn!reader
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you tiptoe down the hallway, socked feet quietly approaching nagi’s bedroom door.
waking up to his warm body against you and the sound of rain ricocheting off his window was so dreamy, you wouldn’t even know that you were awake if it wasn’t for your stomach, empty and angrily grumbling. the lingering scent of his freshly washed sheets and his calm breathing were almost enough to lull you back to sleep, but you managed to slip out of his grip, not leaving without kissing the tip of his nose.
when you open the door, nagi is just waking up. he’s managed to cocoon himself in his comforter, and he looks so cozy you almost wish you didn’t leave. his hair is a mess, and his nose scrunches in a way that makes you want to kiss him all over. his arm lazily reaches out to try to find you, whining when he realizes you’re not next to him.
when he rolls over and meets your gaze, his eyes brighten. it’s a rare sight, especially this early; you’re used to his sleepy pout and pleading eyes, begging for just five more minutes. he shifts onto his back, opening his arms in a wordless request. he groans when you jump on top of him but still curls an arm around you, pulling you closer as your thighs fall open to frame his body.
“you’re so cold.” he uses his free hand to pick his stray hoodie from the floor, where he’d thrown it off before collapsing into bed the night before. he sits up just enough to pull it over you, and you’re surrounded by the smell of his detergent; it’s the smell of early mornings wrapped in his sheets and late night laundry dates. your hair is strewn across your eyes from the force of the fabric when your head pops through the collar, and he brushes it behind your ears before he pulls the two of you back down, mattress bouncing against your shared weight.
pressed together like this, you can feel the soft thrum of his heart underneath you. something warm fills your chest at the thought of yours syncing to the same beat. your head fits perfectly in the junction of his neck, white baby hairs tickling your nose.
“why’d you get up so early?” he sighs. “it wasn’t the same without you. it’s such a pain waking up alone.”
you press a kiss below his ear in the form of an apology, relishing in the little shiver that runs through his body.
“hey,” he pinches your thigh. “i want more.” when you peek at him, his lips are already puckered, big grey eyes looking at you expectantly.
“you’re so spoiled, sei.” his lips are only a little chapped when you press yours against them. you tangle your fingers in his hair, nails grazing his scalp as he exhales in satisfaction.
“not my fault,” he says against your mouth. “i can’t get enough of you.”
he parts his lips, kissing you hard as his large hand moves from your back to your jaw to hold you in place. your body fits perfectly on top of his as you prop up on your elbows, arching into him like two puzzle pieces made to fit together. you whimper when his tongue grazes your own, tasting the leftover peach jam you had on your toast.
you mold your lips against his for as long as your lungs allow, chest aching as pull away. he’s so pretty, looking up at you with his messy hair and pink cheeks, lips shiny and eyes dazed.
what was a steady, soothing beat of rain has turned aggressive and loud, hitting hard and fast against the glass of his windows. you didn’t realize how dark it had gotten; you turn to look outside, but he curls a finger under your chin. your skin tingles from where his thumb traces along the edge of your mouth. “don’t look over there,” he pushes it into the plush of your lower lip. “i’m right here.”
even with the smallest effort, he never fails to make you dizzy, butterflies filling your chest so intensely you wouldn’t think you just caught your breath. he pushes your hair behind your shoulder, thumb moving to trace along your cheek. your noses are practically touching this close.
“i guess i can forgive you for leaving,” his kisses trail to the corner of your mouth and across your skin until his nose brushes against the curve of your ear. “but only if we stay here for the rest of the day.”
you don’t have much of a choice when he rolls the two of you over so you’re facing each other, clinging to you like a koala. he buries his head against your chest, hand sneaking under your clothes to wrap around your waist, fingers spread over your warm skin. you nuzzle down into his hair, wayward strands tickling your nose, eyes already growing heavy. “‘kay.”
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BLLK MASTERLIST
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muwapsturniolo · 24 days
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✯Sturniolos as Half-bloods✯
Goddess version
God version
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Chris would be the son of Aphrodite
Aphrodite is the goddess, of love, beauty, and desire. I think it makes perfect sense for him to be her son. I could see him always wearing some shade of pink (preferably a baby pink), pearl earrings, and just being the most wholesome person ever. He already is wholesome (besides the times when he is being an absolute menace) but it would definitely be elevated. With his mother being the goddess of love and beauty, he would do his best to ensure everyone feels loved and beautiful. Being stationed in camp half-blood, he would give all the girls flowers, brightening up their day and complimenting them on their beauty. When it comes to males, he would hype them up and play cupid, encouraging them to talk to the girls/males they have a crush on.
His cabin is number ten, and I would imagine it to be right by the water, the sun always shining in. His room in the cabin would be white with pink and creme accents. Pink silk bedding, a white desk, and a gold-encrusted mirror. It's no secret that Aphrodite is a bit vain, so he would put a lot of effort into his looks. His hair would sit perfectly, being brushed and combed with a rose-quartz hair tool. His skin would be clear and almost reflective. His lips would never be chapped, tinted softly with a pink lip balm. He would often show off his body, going for swims with the son of Poseiden (Nate possibly) his shirt being off, his abs prominent. A smirk would adorn his face knowing both males and females were fawning over him.
Going on to the desire and sexuality aspect. He knows he's handsome asf and he would use it to his advantage. He would flirt with multiple girls, even managing to get a few in his bed, but it would stop when he meets who he believes is the love of his life. The daughter of Hades.
Aphrodite's animal representation is usually doves and swans. In Chris's case, I think his would be a baby doe.
In the Percy Jackson series, Aphrodite's children didn't have many powers but the one that stands out would be charm speaking, almost like a siren song. Chris would definitely possess this power, being a smooth talker to get who and what he wants. As for a weapon, I could see him having a rose quartz shield paired with a sword, the handle of the sword being gold and white. The shield would be disguised as a ring, and the sword would be in the form of a pearl necklace.
his songs:
" He want lipstick, lipgloss, hickeys too" kiss me more- Doja cat
"Drop of a hat she's as willing as ,playful as a pussy cat" killer queen- queen (i like the 5sos version)
"i was made for lovin you baby and you were made for loving me" I was made for loving you-kiss
can't lie, all I was thinking about while writing Chris's part was @gamermattsgf fic silk ribbons 😭
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Matt would be the son of Demeter
Demeter is the goddess of agriculture/harvest. Considering Matt has been the designated driver, does the laundry, and is labeled the navigator, I feel like this suits him. Agriculture is very important and tbh, without it, nothing in the world would work. I could see him always wearing jeans or overalls (barking at the thought of him wearing overalls omfg), he would wear a wife beater or a simple black t-shirt (preferably cropped teehee). He always would have his horse chain on, never taking it off, even when he's getting his hands dirty. Matt's quiet so I feel like that would carry on into the halfblood universe. He would stay near his cabin unless he was training or cooking in the camp kitchen. He would talk to a few people but would mostly keep to himself.
His cabin is number four, I would imagine it to be located near the back of the camp, close to mountains, and having a lot of land to farm. I would think it would be more of a rustic vibe, very serene. A lot of browns, cremes, with hints of green. A statue of his mother would be perched right in the middle of his backyard. He would sit next to it, offering her grains and cups of water as the sound of nature buzzed around them. Due to his mother being the goddess of harvest, he was in control of the food for the camp. He's basically a farmer. With being a farmer, there are multiple animals, his favorite being the horse. He would have an array of horses, his favorite being a pearl white horse he named Lucky. He would always take hikes along the trails, and teach other half-bloods how to care for the horses and how to ride them as well.
I could see him having a crush on Poesiden's daughter. It would be a beautiful relationship, after all, you cant grow plants or food without water.
In the Percy Jackson series, Demeter's children did possess powers. The ones I feel Matt would possess would be enhanced growth, (manipulate plant growth which would come in handy during battle.. He would also possess the power to manipulate seasons. It wouldn't be anything crazy, but he could make the temperature rise or fall drastically. His weapon of choice would definitely be a lasso, made with a golden thread. He would definitely ride on a horse, Lucky being the horse in question. The lasso would be disguised as the chain to his horse necklace, and the horse pendant itself would be Lucky.
Demeter's animal representation is usually a snake, pig, turtle doves, and a screech owl. The horse was also mentioned due to Poseiden creating the horse as a form of affection for Demeter. For Matt, I know for a fact his animal would be a horse (like I said multiple times) and a dog. Since I do think his love choice would be the daughter of Poseidon, he would gift her a horse.
His songs:
"I climbed a mountain and I turned around, and saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills" Landslide-fleetwood mac
"The dog days are over, the dog days are over. Can you hear the horses? Cause here they come." dog days are over- florence + the machine
"I've been searching for a trail to follow again, take me back to the night we met." the night we met- lord heron.
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Nick would be the son of Athena
Athena is the goddess of war, wisdom, and craft. It's no secret Nick loves the idea of wielding a sword in a horse-drawn chariot, so this is perfect for him! He would always wear reds, golds, and black. I can deff see him wearing black docs for training, as well as jeans and some type of long sleeve. His attitude is very fierce, and he has a slick mouth. With his slick mouth comes wisdom, he's just very harsh with it. He is definitely the best fighter in the camp, being labeled as the winner and leader. I wouldn't say he was always looking for a fight but, he isn't afraid to get his hands dirty.
With his cabin being number six, I would think it's located near the training center of the camp. Lots of dirt and mud trails, and weapons being thrown across the front of the cabin. His room would have wooden flooring, with a four-post bed. The bedding would be plain white sheets with red satin pillowcases and a big red blanket. A bust of his mother would sit on his nightstand, a blade perched next to it. With fighting being in his blood, I could see multiple shields and swords in the bedroom as well, maybe some mounted on the walls.
As far as relationships go, he would want someone who is equally as skilled in fighting and can handle his mouth. With that being said, he would deff have his eyes on the son of Apollo. His archery skills and knowledge would captivate Nick.
In the Percy Jackson series, Athena's kids didn't have powers, they just had really good intelligence and fighting skills, as well as craftsmanship. Nick would have very good craftsmanship, constantly fixing things for people in camp half-blood, building buildings, etc. I also think he would be the one to come up with battle strategies during dire situations. His choice of weapon would switch between a sword and a staff. The sword and staff would be much like the son of Poseidon's, disguised as a pen. His staff would be disguised as a ring as well, throwing it up into the air and catching it in a dramatic yet impressive fashion. A horse-drawn chariot wouldn't be possible, so he does take one of Matt's horses instead.
Athena's animal representation is an owl. Despite Nick's fear of birds in real life, I do think he would take after his mother with the owl. The owl would alert him when there is danger near , and guide him in battle.
His songs:
"If it makes me a king, a star in your eyes" all for us- labyrinth
"And if you complain once more, you'll meet an army of me" army of me- Bjork
"And I had a thought about wreaking havoc on an opposition, kinda shocking, they want static with precision." enemy- imagine dragons
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im in love with this!!!! im deff going to do a version for the gods!!!
TAGLIST🍑
@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush
@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision
@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @mattslolita
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agendeterjenlaundry · 2 years
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