summary : topper and kelce are tired of rafes new girlfriend stealing the spotlight, so they invite her to boys night to see why she’s so special.
trigger warnings : fem!reader , explicit language , drinking , mentions of drugs & alcohol , kinda ‘girly’ reader , fluff , rafe overthinking? , oblivious reader , over protective rafe , topper and kelce being absolutely AWFUL liars/actors , reader is friends with sarah , ward is mentioned (🤮🤮🤮)
just relax ♡ — friends to lovers!sarah cameron
summary : after a particularly hot day outside, you and sarah are buzzing from the heat. you seek shelter in sarah’s room, cooling down in the air conditioning. you head to grab her laptop when she expresses her boredom, and you’re beyond suprised when you see what it’s open to.
trigger warnings : NSFW (minors dni), friends to lovers, sarah is inexperienced with women, scissoring, implied reader is a top but they’re holding back quite a bit, dirty talk, pre existing/hidden feelings, watching porn, reader using the nickname ‘sare’ for sarah
blurbs :
spooked ♡ — overprotective!rafe cameron
just a really really short blurb about rafes friends being scared of him 😭😭
hey bear ♡ — barry
a blurb about giving barry a taste of his own medicine via a nickname, similar to him calling rafe “country club”. just a little flirting. kinda friends with benefits vibes.
You get hurt, and Roman puts you back together. Then makes you come all apart again.
Tags - stepdaddy!roman, one shot, smut, oral sex (f!receiving), implied piss kink, fingering/handjob, getting hurt, first aid, it’s not terribly graphic since I was able to stomach it lol, sweet and domestic - shut the fuck up about it it’s nothing im nothing it’s fine shut up.
A/N - all of you shut up. not one word .
“Jesus– fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”
You smirk, amused by how easily Roman spooks sometimes. “Oh, hey, Rome.”
Roman’s laying on the couch in near-dark, legs draped over the arm, mindlessly scrolling through his phone as the TV plays something forgettable in the background. It’s late at night, and it’s been an average day for you both. You ate dinner together like usual, but besides that, you didn’t talk much. He props himself up, squinting at you in the dark “Yeah, hi. Whatcha haunting my living room for at the lovely hour of–” Roman looks at the clock, “1 AM?”
You shrug. “I just wanted some tea,” you answer, and Roman makes an exaggerated face.
“Well, aren’t you fancy. Crumpets, too, I’m guessing?”
Dickhead. You flick Roman on the side of his head, and he whines when you do that. “Asshole.” He kicks your ass on your way to the kitchen a little harsher than what could be considered gentle, and then you turn on just one light. You open one of Roman’s mahogany cabinets and browse your tea collection, humming as you look through the boxes.
“Roman,” you call out.
“What-an.”
You snort. “What do I want?”
“What do you have?”
“I have…” Trailing off, you pull out boxes one at a time. You want nothing green or black, only herbal and caffeine-free. “I’ve got peach, Sleepytime, honey vanilla chamomile, then strawberry chamomile, aaand Throat Coat.” Throat Coat. You smile at the memory of Roman tending to you when you were sick. He had grabbed this tea for you in a moment of downtime and kept your mug full of it that whole weekend.
“Peach,” Roman answers, so peach it is. You take one of the bags out and bring it to your nose, inhaling the sweet, fragrant smell, then reach for the honey bear. It’s starting to crystallize, you notice.
You’re filling up the Keurig with some water next, then turning on the machine to let it warm up. Behind you in the other room, you can hear Roman giggling at the stupid noises it makes. He can perfectly imitate it, actually. You love that useless skill of his.
You open another cabinet for a mug, choosing your favorite one out of the bunch - it’s just a silly, old, cheap-ass mug, but you like the colorful owls it’s painted with. And it’s nicely shaped too, and feels good in your hand like it was made for you or something. You take the mug, startled to see a fucking huge black spider has made itself at home at the bottom. “Oh my god!” you shriek, dropping the mug instinctively, where it shatters into a million pieces. The spider skitters under the fridge. “Fuuuuck.”
Roman pauses his scrolling and cranes his neck to look at you in the kitchen. He says your name cautiously, then, “...You good?” he asks worriedly, “What the fuck just happened?”
“It’s nothing, just - there was a spider in my mug and I dropped it. God fucking - whatever. Fuck.”
“Okay, well, is there glass everywhere?”
You look down at the floor, assessing the mess. It’s not everywhere, per se, but you can’t take any step in any direction without stepping in the glass. “Uh, yeah. More or less.”
Roman sighs and shuts off his phone, groaning as he gets up from the couch. He does a little stretch and a yawn, his t-shirt riding up and exposing his tummy, and the faintest bit of a happy trail there. “Alright, just hang on a second, okay. I’m gonna find a broom,” he says, then adds, “Do not fucking touch anything. Don’t even breathe/”
You roll your eyes at that. He’s such a worrier at times, overprotective. You might’ve been embarrassed by him as a teenager, but now, you’re just amused by it all. It’s kind of nice to have someone care so deeply for you, too.
You know when you were a child, and you’d break a glass accidentally, and your parent would come rushing in? And they’d be deadly serious as they told you to get out of the way so they can clean up the glass. They didn’t want you getting hurt, they’d say. But when you grow up, that doesn’t really happen. Nobody gives a shit if you break a glass. But Roman does, though. He complains, but he likes being the person to clean up your broken glass, so long as it means you’re not getting hurt. Roman walks to the entryway and slides on some shoes, then opens the nearby closet door to find a broom.
There’s really not much room for you where you’re standing. Looking down, you can see that you can’t adjust your footing at all, so you crouch down and carefully brush some of the glass away, making more room for yourself.
And it comes back. The spider bolts quickly toward you, but there’s nowhere to run like you’d usually do. You squeal anxiously and smack it with your palm before you even have a chance to think. You’ve never been much of a fighter in a fight-or-flight situation, though. Guess there’s a first time for everything, right?
God, why did you fucking do that?
“Ohhh, fuck no. Fuck. Ow, ow, ow,” you whimper, flipping your hand over to quickly see the damage, but even a brief glimpse is too much for you. You see glass and the color red, so much fucking blood. “Oh my god, fuck.”
Roman returns to the kitchen with a broom in hand, and his face drops when he sees you on the floor, hand dripping blood onto the tile below. “Oh my god, what did you fucking do?”
You’re already looking gaunt and glassy-eyed, too. “Hey. Hey - Jesus fucking Christ.” Roman rushes to you and drops to your level, taking your hand into both of his own. He looks so concerned, with his worried eyes and brows pinched together, a frown on his lips as he does his best to inspect the damage, but it’s not light enough to see much. He murmurs your name, voice low, and pushes hair out of his face as he exhales.
“The spider came…b-back and I smashed it and I–” you cut yourself off before you finish describing the rest of it.
“Smashed your hand into a fucking pile of broken glass, yeah, I see that. Smooth one, dumbass.”
“Sorry,” you whisper.
Roman exhales hard. “C’mon, kid. Up. You’re coming with me.” Roman steadies you as you rise and quickly sweeps some of the glass out of the way with his foot, making room for you to step forward.
“Are we going to the ER?”
“Uh, possibly. I need to see how bad it actually is first.” Roman glances down at your dripping fingers. “Which…isn’t great so far. Okay. Don’t step on anything, alright? Just be fuckin’ careful, John McClane.”
“What?”
“Die Hard? Dude, we literally fucking watched it last Christmas - he walks on the glass? Right? Barefoot, is any of this - Jesus Christ, never mind. Just - ppstairs.”
As Roman steers you up the stairs, he wraps his arm around you, squeezing your waist tightly to brace your potential fall. He walks slowly, keeping a watchful eye on you. “You’re fucking ridiculous, you know,” he says. “You’ve never killed a spider in your life - like, never - until now, where you smashed both it and your hand into a fuck ton of broken glass. Is that like - is that a logical progression, do you think?”
You whine in pain as your hand really begins to throb. Each heart beat has your hand pulsing in the same time, aching as all that blood rushes to the wound. “Are you pissed at me?”
Roman just sighs and kisses your temple. “No,” he tells you, exasperated.
“Promise?”
“Uh huh, whatever.”
You stop walking and look at him, eyes all wide and nervous. You’re scared and vulnerable, and he knows at that moment that you need a little more tenderness than what he’s giving you. Even if he is annoyed. Not annoyed-annoyed, but…whatever. It’s Roman’s anxiety more than anything. He just doesn’t like to see you hurt, is all, he’s not trying to be a dick. “Yes, I promise. Not pissed.”
Roman holds your clammy forearm firmly in his hand as he guides you to the bathroom. You’re looking at the blood dripping down your wrist, feeling warm and fuzzy, but not in a good way. “There’s so much glass a-and–”
“Spider guts in your hand, yep. I know it’s gross. Don’t l - hey. Don’t look at it. Just look at me.”
“I’m trying, I’m just feeling a little dizzy is all, Roman.”
“Yeah, well, that’d be your - you know, you-ness. Hey - I’m serious, don’t fucking look at that shit. Look at me, sweetheart. Look at my sexy fuckin’...I don’t know. Just look at something else.”
He walks you to the bathroom, and he places you on the sink. “You sit, and you stay. And you do not look at your hand, okay?” he says, then turns to open a closet and pulls out the first aid kit. It’s years old at this point, and probably, definitely missing some essentials, but it doesn’t hurt to have, especially considering the present moment.
Roman turns around to check on you, and you’re looking at your hand with that glazed look on your face. He says your name once, then twice, and it takes you a second to register that he’s even speaking to you. Roman sounds so far away, underwater, even. “What’d I fuckin’ tell you? Nope, don’t - leave it. Leave it. Eyes on me.”
“But Rome–”
Roman ignores you. “Look away,” he tells you instead. “And if I have to tell you one more time, I’m going to strangle you, okay? And then your hand’s gonna be the least of your problems.”
Roman knows who you are, and so do you. You’ve got this tendency to get all fucking squeamish and freaked out by blood, through no fault of your own. He knows you can’t help this, but you absolutely can help looking at the thing that’s gonna trigger you to faint.
It’s not the first time it’s happened. Once, when you were a teenager, you snuck downstairs late at night, looking for a snack. Not unlike you did tonight, too. Roman was watching some TV show and you walked right past him, waving shyly. “Hey, you. It’s–” Roman looked at the clock. “Way past bedtime, holy fuck.”
“I don’t have a bedtime,” you replied, heading for the kitchen pantry.
“Mm, too cool for a bedtime, I see. I get it. Me too, actually. But whatcha grabbing there?”
“Cookies,” you answered, grabbing a plastic box of some fancy holiday season Harry & David whatever-the-fuck gourmet cookies.
“Ooh, sharing is caring. Thanks.”
You mumbled something in response, messing with the plastic. It was deceptively difficult to open, and when you finally did open the box, it wasn’t without a slice to your fingertip.
It wasn’t even particularly bloody or deep, really, but you stood there in the pantry, just staring at it. Your vision started to go spotty, the lights were getting darker as you felt so, so heavy and dizzy and just…awful, swaying back and forth. “Uhh…Roman?” Your voice sounded far away, even coming out of your own mouth.
“What’s up, night owl?”
“I think I need a Band-aid.”
Roman sighed and stood up, rummaging through a nearby drawer for a box of bandages when then came a loud tumble. He spun around quickly to see you face down on the fucking floor.
“Oh, shit.”
He rushed to your side and turned you over, his hand at your side. “Wake up, wake up.” Roman was relieved to see your eyelids fluttering, though your pupils were unusually wide. Your chin was bleeding, also, and your face was a little sweaty.
“It’s the - my finger,” you said breathlessly, showing Roman your finger. He looked at it closely, then looked at you.
“Uh-huh, I see. Not so big on blood, huh?”
You shook your head to confirm, out of breath. This wasn’t news to you - you’d fainted before in health class at school, but it was new to Roman. Guess it never came up before now.
Roman left you on the floor to quickly grab a few bandaids and a clean washrag that he dampened with a bit of soap and some water. He put a bandaid on your finger first, then held the rag to your chin, which was bleeding heavily. Facial injuries always do. “That’s okay. I don’t mind it myself,” he told you. “Guess I don’t really like needles, though.”
You shrugged, and a beat passed before you whispered, “I’m really sorry.”
“What? No, don’t - don’t be sorry, honey,” Roman said, pulling the rag away to inspect the bleeding. He folded it in half, then pressed it to your chin again, keeping his hand there as he maneuvered his way around your body. He lifted your head a little, and put it on his lap.
“Do you want me to get up?”
“Nope, I want you to stay right there,” he said, pressing the rag firmly against your skin. Roman felt relieved to see some life come back to your cheeks - not much, just a little, as you became more lucid. “Right here. You’re good.”
The bleeding stopped after a few minutes. Roman put a bandaid on your chin next, and kept you right where you were on his lap. You still have that scar today. He kisses it sometimes; his last stop after kissing his way up the column of your throat.
“How are you feeling?” he asked gently.
“Oogey and swirly,” you answered, “And embarrassed.”
Roman laughed silently. “Yeah, well, that’s ‘cause you’re a huge fuckin’ wimp…”
“But?”
Roman smiled kindly at you. “I like ya anyway,” he murmured. “Kinda. Tolerate you is more like it. We’re gonna stay like this until you’re doing a little better, okay?”
You just nodded quietly, eyes closed as you settled against him. Roman traced your face and stroked your cheekbones with his thumbs, then spent some time playing with your hair. You stayed like that even after you came back to life and felt like yourself again.
“You scared the fuck out of me, you little shit.”
“I know. Sorry, Rome.”
“It’s okay, honey. Not mad at you.”
-
Roman spins around with a plastic basket in his hand, and in it is some supplies - tweezers, alcohol, gauze, medical tape, and some other stuff. Your head is resting against the wall, eyes closed, hand held tightly in a fist as you breathe deeply through the pain and some tears roll down your cheeks. Poor kid, Roman thinks, washing his hands in the sink. He pats them dry, then holds your forearm. “I’m gonna open up your hand, alright?” You’re shaking your head no, trying to focus on the way Roman rubs your skin instead of the way your hand throbs in pain. “Yeah, I am, honey. Open your hand.”
“No,” you argue. “You’re gonna hurt me.”
“No, I am going to help you. But if you’re already hurt, what does it matter if I hurt you, too? You know, in the process of…all of this.” He gestures to the medical supplies. “Hm?”
You open your watery eyes and glare at Roman, who holds his hands up in surrender. “Roman.”
Roman says your name sternly, but with a gentleness to it, too. “Hey. I’ve got you, alright? The quicker you let me look, the quicker all of this fuckin’ shit is over. Okay? Can you do step one with me? Just step one, sweetheart. It’s so fuckin’ easy.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, rolling around his offer in your head. Logically, you know it’s not just going to be step one. After step one will be step two, then step three, and so on. But you like the way Roman makes it all seem smaller right now, how he makes it all seem less scary. You nod and relax your fist.
Roman takes the cue to pry open your fingers, slowly revealing the injury. There’s blood, there’s cuts, and there are quite a few obvious shards of glass sticking out of your palm, but beyond that, it’s really not so bad. Certainly doesn’t warrant a trip to the ER.
You can feel his breath on your skin as he raises your palm and turns it from side to side, and as he pulls out his phone and uses his flashlight to inspect a little closer. “How’re we doing over there, huh? Not looking, right? ‘Cause if you faint again and crack your fucking skull open, I swear to god…” Roman clicks his tongue.
“N-no. Not looking,” you answer, cringing at the warmth of the blood pooled in your palm. “Is it bad, Rome?”
“Mhm, oh yeah. Gonna have to amputate, actually. Wanna jerk me off one last time before it’s gone for good? Hm? A little farewell handy for the road?”
You laugh breathlessly, pressing your other hand against your sweaty forehead. “Oh, fuck you, Roman,” you say quietly.
“Yeah, you wish. No, you’re not getting amputated, sweetheart, but I am gonna perform some minor surgery, so.” Roman puts your hand on your thigh and opens the cap of the isopropyl alcohol, then dumps the bottle onto a cotton ball.
You open your eyes and see him wiping off the tweezers, thoroughly cleaning them before he uses them on you. Your heart beats harder and you feel dizzy even thinking about what he’s going to do to you. Fuck, you remember those tweezers. Roman would use them when you were a kid, coming home from the park with splinters in your hands and fingers from the mulch. He’d dig them out with said tweezer and you’d scream the entire time, and it was all of ten seconds but it felt like minutes that he was in there. He’d wrap your finger up in a rainbow Bandaid and would try not to feel hurt that you wouldn’t speak to him for the rest of the day. He figured he deserved it/
“Roman, no. No, no, no. Don’t, please, don’t–”
“Yep,” Roman says, taking your wrist again. You pull it away from him, wincing at the glass shards moving in your hand. “C’mon, give it back.” Roman gives you a look and tilts his head, only to be met by you shaking yours.
Something changes in the way he looks at you then. There’s still care and concern in his eyes, something so warm. Something loving. But his eyes darken, pupils swallowing his hazel irises as he reaches for your cheek. “Can you give me back your hand, honey? Please? Can you be a good girl and do that for me?”
Roman’s not oblivious to the way your heartbeat changes, or how your breath hitches in your throat. He wears his gorgeous, lopsided smirk as he runs his thumb along your cheekbone. “Yeah, you can do that, can’t you? Hm? You’re gonna be a brave girl for Daddy?”
You nod silently, earning a chuckle from Roman. “Oh, you are so fucking easy. Yeah, you can do it,” Roman says, moving his hand from your cheek to your wrist. “You’re gonna let me take care of this,” he murmurs, reaching for the tweezers, “And if you’re good…” Your breathing changes as Roman whispers something in your ear, finishing his offer with a couple of kisses pressed against your neck. “What do you think, hm?”
You give your hand over to Roman, willingly.
He smiles silently and lays your palm out wide in his warm hand, then grabs the tweezers and thinks about how he’s gonna do this.
The tougher shards are gonna come out first, Roman decides. Sorry, kid. He doesn’t tell you this, and instead gets right to work, pinching the shards of glass with the metal tweezers and pulling them out, holding your hand tightly when you try to pull it away. “Ow,” you whine, shaking and trembling a little. “Ow, ow, ow–”
“I know, I know. Almost done,” Roman lies, moving onto the next one. You wince harder when he pulls it out, a sob escaping your chest. He moves quickly and does the next one, and the one after that.
“Rome–”
“You’re doing so good,” he promises, pulling out the easier shards now. You shouldn’t be feeling much at this point, but that doesn’t mean your mind’s not playing tricks on you. “One…two…three - shit, sorry - last one,” he says, and finally, “Four. Worst is over. Take a breath.”
You breathe deeply as Roman disposes of the glass into the wastebasket, then cleans off the tweezers once again. You’re relieved to see him do so.
“So no ER?”
“No ER,” Roman affirms, turning on the water next. “Nothing’s deep enough to need stitches or shit like that, so you’re good. I’m gonna wash your cuts and wrap you up and send you on your merry way, hm?”
“Okay,” you nod, looking away as Roman your palm under the lukewarm water. All that blood temporarily stains the porcelain a reddish-orange, then washes down the drain.
Roman finds a clean rag and some soap, then gently drags it along all of your scrapes and lacerations. You hiss in pain, that awful, sharp sting of the soapy water in your wounds making you twitch and shiver.
“You’re lucky, honestly. I could piss on your hand instead, you know. To sterilize it.”
You laugh at that, cheeks heating up at the implication. You pause and wonder for a second about that. If Roman’s ever…if he would ever…if you’d…
“Oh my god, you sick fuck. You actually want that?” Roman laughs, squeezing some antibiotic ointment onto his fingertip to spread over your cuts.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Sure, but you didn’t not say that, did you?” Roman taunts. He lays some gauze over your palm and gives you a knowing look that you shy away from. He wraps more gauze around your palm and anchors it to your wrist, loving the way you squirm at this dirty little secret he’s uncovered.
“Shut up,” you mumble. Roman raises his eyebrows as he tears off some tape with his teeth, then secures the gauze in place. He finishes the entire thing by kissing your palm gently, then lays your hand on your lap.
He inhales and exhales slowly, and it seems that you’re more relaxed now, too. “You survived,” he says dramatically, “High five,” and raises hand. You raise your hand to meet his, quickly switching to your other, uninjured hand with a giggle. “Yeah, no, not that hand, dumbass. Oh my god, you’re fucking exhausting.”
“Sorry,” you whisper, high-fiving Roman gently. He grabs both of your hips and pulls you to the edge of the sink, slotting himself between your thighs.
“You okay?” he asks, “Are you dizzy at all?”
You shake your head, feeling more yourself now. Your hand does still hurt, though. “I’m okay.”
Roman nods, then pauses before he speaks. “I’m like - like I am very proud of you, actually,” he says quietly. “You did good.”
Roman’s drumming his fingers along your waist, looking so handsome as he smiles kindly at you. You hate this, the vulnerability you feel. The whole ‘I’m worried about you’ song and dance. It’s just hard, in a way, to be so seen and cared for. You think if you explained it to Roman, he’d understand. But you’re not going to.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“I’m not bullshitting,” Roman says softly, and you scoff. “What? I can’t be proud of you? Hm?” He kisses your cheek over and over again, making you giggle until he quiets you by crushing his lips against yours.
It’s been some time since you’ve kissed him last, so it’s nice to do. You think a lot about the first time Roman kissed you, all those butterflies you felt. You don’t get them as much anymore, but there’s still something so nice about kissing Roman, about tasting and smelling him, and feeling like he’s yours, whatever he is. Whatever this is. It’s perverse, but it’s home at this point.
The way his tongue slides past your lips and into your mouth, and how he squeezes you and groans. You love getting to feel him, too. Sliding your palm along his veiny forearm, squeezing his bicep, wrapping your legs around his slim waist. While kissing him, you reach for his pants and press your palm against his half-hard erection, wincing at the pressure against your wounded hand. “Yeah, nice try, honey. Gimme this–” Roman takes your hand and moves it away from his body, then undoes his pants himself. He drops them and his briefs just low enough to free his cock and his balls, then takes your other hand and wraps it around his length. “Yeah, fuck. There we go.”
You stroke his cock, feeling him pulse and twitch under your palm as you kiss him messily, moaning against his lips. Roman’s arm brushes against yours as he pushes your shorts to the side, humming because you’re wearing no panties. His fingers slide through your folds easily, already so wet and ready for him.
He ignores your clit entirely and pushes two fingers inside you, curling them against that special spot that makes you stop breathing for a second. You cry out as he finger fucks you, quieted as he swallows each of your moans.
You love Roman’s dirty fucking mouth, but you love this, too. All these lewd noises - the wet, sticky sounds your pussy makes, the quiet groans and hums from Roman as you swipe your thumb over his slit. The sounds of heavy breathing and that warmth created between your bodies.
Roman kisses across your jaw and down your neck, pushing your shirt up to kiss down your torso, too. He hooks his fingers around your shorts and pulls them down, then sinks to his knees and pushes yours apart.
It starts with kisses on your inner thighs, all lazy and sloppy. Roman’s looking up at you with those gorgeous, deep set sleepy eyes, letting them flutter shut as he kisses your seam. He just does that for a moment, simply kissing your cunt over and over and over until he sucks your clit between his lips, making you gasp.
Roman swirls his tongue around the sensitive part of you, then licks up and down your folds, savoring all of you. You wonder if he’s touching himself at all, or if his cock is just there, leaking and throbbing. You want to wrap your hand around it, want it in your mouth. You want him inside you.
Roman pushes his middle two fingers into you and moves them as he moves his tongue in circles around your clit, finding that perfect rhythm. You slide your fingers through the slightly greasy strands of his hair, tugging on them as he eats you, working you closer and closer to release.
It comes quicker than it used to. Roman knows your cunt so well at this point, and he’s lovingly memorized the exact way to kiss you and tongue you to make you cum so hard for him. When your clit swells in his mouth, like it’s doing now, he knows you’re close. Shaking, twitching, rocking your hips.
You look so beautiful when you cum, and you’re such a good girl, watching him as you do it. Your eyes stay locked on his as you ride out your release, and it’s so profoundly fucking intimate. There’s nobody you’d rather share this with. Likewise for Roman.
He should fuck you next. He should stand up and push his cock into you, but he doesn’t. Roman’s hard as ever as he tucks himself away and wipes his shiny lips on the back of his hand, then kisses your temple. He does a quick check on your hand, making sure the wound dressing hasn’t gotten all fucked up or anything like that. Roman’s out of breath when he pulls you off the countertop and sends you toward his bedroom, not yours. “Go to sleep,” he says, walking you forward with a hand on your lower back. “I’m gonna - gonna go clean up your fuckin’ mess downstairs.”
“But you - your–” You spin around, and Roman gently pushes you into bed.
“I’ll be fine, sweetheart. I have hands.”
“I have hands, too.”
“You have a hand,” Roman corrects, tucking you into bed.
“And a pussy,” you add.
“Mhm, congrats on that. Now go to bed,” he tells you. “Maybe I’ll fuck you in your sleep or something, alright?”
You laugh. “Creep.”
“Could piss on you too,” Roman teases, then kisses your lips. “I’ll be back. Go to sleep. Watch your hand.”
you know the drill :) say something nice if you enjoyed. love you all.
hey guyssss sorry for not posting in a minute. i have a jj fic and a rafe fic in the drafts, ive just had absolutely no motivation to write (im super gay and writing for men hurts my brain sometimes). im hoping to get the jj fic out sometime in the next 2-7 days !!
ps , thank you for all the support i’ve been getting !! the amount of reblogs and likes ive gotten from my little blurbs makes me so happy, and im rlly glad you all liked them.
alsoooo, if there’s any female characters you guys want me to write for, PLEASE leave requests !! female fic requests will ALWAYS get done faster than female ones.
It truly is unfair how hot Daniel is because like he’s just huge fucking nerd who dresses up like Star Wars characters and plays golf and who’s first word was fucking TRACTOR yet you see him and it’s like yeah that’s a Greek god reincarnated who also happens to be the sweetest and most gentle man ever
Warnings: Explicit sexual content; mature themes; fingering, oral sex (fem receiving, male receiving); unprotected sex; language; MINORS DNI
A/N: Greetings and salutations! I’m trying my best to chug-a-lug through all of the Danny asks that I have neglected (but not forgotten, I SWEAR). So this one is dedicated to the lovely @yungkiszka from forever ago. 💚
Bajabule,
-Han
Background: You finally get to tag along with Danny and his band of brothers to a show, and you’re absolutely captivated by his drum solo. You soak in every detail of him from the curls in his hair to the way his hands grip the sticks, leaving you with a need that only he knows how to fulfill. 😉
After the show, as you made your way around the backstage area, you finally spotted him. You turned and slipped your arms around his back. His skin was damp with sweat. You knew that the stage lights always made him insufferably hot. You also knew that his adrenaline was always pumping hard and fast immediately after every show, and tonight, you were going to take advantage of that. You were feeling insufferably hot, yourself, but in a completely different sense than him.
You pressed your body as close to him as you could, feeling his heart pounding in his chest as he rested his hands on your hips. You brushed your lips softly against the skin of his neck until you reached his ear, gently taking the lobe between your lips and pulling it ever so slightly before letting it go; just enough to feel him shiver against you. You kept your lips to his ear and spoke so softly that no one around you could stand a chance of hearing.
Danny," you started, your voice as soft as the petals from a rose, "I need you," you whispered.
You felt his heart still pounding in his chest. His head tilted back at your words, resting against the wall behind him. He took a heavy breath and pulled the key to his dressing room out of his pocket, placing it into your palm. You turned and walked to the door, sliding the key in and turning it to unlock it. He was right behind you and closed it once you were both inside. He turned the little lock on the knob before turning around to look at you.
You had already made your way over to the couch. He paused when he got closer just to allow himself a second to take in the sight of you, sprawled out all over the cushions just for him.
"Aw, honey," he breathed, "look so good for me." He came closer to you and you sat up to meet him. He settled himself on top of you and you quickly found his lips, placing your palms on either side of his face and pulling him closer to you. You opened your mouth, letting his tongue slip inside, and you relished under it. His lips were full and soft as they pushed and pulled with yours. His tongue was hot and deliciously wet, and you could still taste the beer he'd been sipping all night long.
His body was like furnace; you figured a mixture of the adrenaline and lights, as well as his blooming arousal. You pulled back from his lips to look at him, and he looked exhausted. His eyes were unusually tired. You felt a hard pang of sympathy for him, trying his best to give you the last little bit of energy that he had left in him after putting on a show for thousands of people. You suddenly felt selfish, and you backed further away from him on the couch.
His features were incredibly soft, his eyes looking at you with a mixture of longing for you and fear for something he had done to make you back away from him. He looked painfully innocent, like a child or a puppy, craving your touch and affection. When he spoke, he was very quiet.
"You alright?"
You nodded, avoiding his eyes.
"Will you look at me?"
You took a breath and turned your eyes to him, feeling the pang of sympathy in your stomach again.
His fingers reached to graze your cheek. The tips of his fingers were rough on your soft skin, making your chest swell with warmth. It was a wild concept for you that one person could make you feel so many different ways all at the same time.
"What happened?" he asked, almost whispering. The look of concern in his eyes absolutely melting you.
"I just feel bad. You're exhausted. You need to rest. And I'm asking you for a lot right now, and–"
He shook his head, and you paused, furrowing your brows with a questioning look.
"Of course I'm tired. Shows take a lot out of people. But you're not asking anything of me that I can't handle, sweetheart," he said, inching himself closer to you.
You raised your brows at him, hoping that he would continue. He was vigorously attractive when he was talking about pleasing you, no matter how worn his features were.
"Listen," he started, a smirk on his lips, "if I didn't think I could handle you, I wouldn't have given you the key to get in here," his lips suddenly not even inches from yours. "And I sure as hell," he kissed your lips quickly before pulling back far enough to speak again, "wouldn't be putting my hands," he kissed you again, lingering a little longer this time, softly biting at your bottom lip as he pulled away again, "where I'm putting them right now."
As he spoke, you felt his warm, calloused hands moving painfully slow under your shirt and along your ribs, with the full intent of making you shiver under him. You felt the familiar feeling of warmth spread in the spot between your legs as the goosebumps formed over the expanse of your skin, so intensely that they almost hurt. The entire time his hands were moving, his eyes were on yours. Watching your expression to see if he was yielding the results that he wanted.
You huffed and pulled him back to you, craving the taste of his mouth. He lifted his hands and took your shirt over your head, discarding it in the floor beside the two of you. His lips then met your neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. He affixed himself there momentarily, skillfully moving one hand down your chest while the other kept a light grip on your hair. Your chest was heaving by this point, and you found yourself unconsciously squeezing your legs together.
You ran your hands up his arms and over his shoulders, feeling the tone of his muscles as he held himself up over top of you. You then proceeded to run your hands slowly down his chest, feeling how his heartbeat thudded at your fingertips. You let your eyes wander over his chest, following the sparse trail of hair down to his stomach, where it grew thicker, leading down to the only part of him that was still clothed. When your hands caught up with your eyes, you paused for a moment. You could feel his eyes on you, waiting to see what you would do.
You flicked your gaze up from his visibly hard length to meet his eyes, and found that where his irises had earlier been soft and brown, they were now almost entirely black; only a small ring of brown to separate his pupil from his sclera. Keeping your eyes trained on him, you reached for the button of his pants and unfastened it. He sat back on his heels to give you room to work. His pants practically unzipped themselves because of what they were fighting to contain. You could see the entire outline of him now, the fabric of his boxers stretched thin around his length.
You weren't in the mood for wasting time, so you reached under his waistband and took him in your hand, slowly gliding your fist down his solid cock. His head fell back and his brows furrowed. He let out a breath that neither of you had realized he was holding. After he huffed a few breaths, you brought your fist back up, twisting your hand as you reached the tip. He twitched under your hand and you smirked. You started to lower yourself to take him in your mouth, when you felt a hand grasp both sides of your jaw from under your chin. You looked up at him with your eyes wide, shocked. He looked down at you, his eyes still lust-filled, but soft.
"Whatcha doin’?" he asked, slightly grinning.
"What does it look like?" you answered.
"Hey. Hey. Listen," he chuckled. "Remember you said that you needed me though." He paused. "You still need me, honey?"
You let your mouth fall open slightly, sucking in a breath. You nodded quickly, your shock still lingering.
"Nuh-uh. Tell me."
His hand moved from your chin to your hair while the other followed suit and his lips moved to your ear. "Tell me what you need."
Your breath was heavy as you mustered up the courage to give him what he asked.
"Need– need you to make me cum," you whimpered.
"Tell me how you want it, sweetheart."
Without a single thought or second of hesitation, you breathlessly replied, "Your hands."
You felt his breath on your neck as he chuckled. "That was fast. You had anything on your mind lately?"
You laughed and rolled your eyes at him.
He lowered his head and peppered your neck with kisses again, taking a little more time and creating a little more suction, making your breath heavier with every one. Once he reached the base of your neck, he trailed his lips over to the space between your collarbones, flattened his tongue a bit, and dragged it up the entirety of your throat, eliciting a string of moans to escape from the depths of your chest. All you wanted in that moment was him between your legs.
As if sensing your needy frustration, he cupped your heat with his hand, over top of your underwear. Your hips reflexively bucked into him, and he smirked.
His hands slid to your hips, and he hooked his index fingers into your underwear, pulling them down your legs and tossing them in the floor with the rest of your clothes. He slid his fingers inside your folds, collecting all the warm wetness you'd been accumulating all night, taking his time to thoroughly spread it around.
The feeling of his calloused fingers against your bare heat sent you into a spiral, creating the perfect amount of friction to stir up your arousal. Your legs moved together, inadvertently attempting to get him closer to your entrance, desperate to feel him inside of you.
His middle and ring fingers traveled to either side of your clit, pointed down toward your entrance. Applying downward pressure, while bringing his fingers together, he moved the bundle of nerves in short circles, and you immediately yelped at the sensation. You'd had stimulation there more than once before, but never like this. You felt your pleasure burning in the lower part of your belly, like a dam just waiting to burst wide open. Your hand shot to his wrist and your eyes searched for his, silently pleading with him.
He was smirking again, proud of the effect that he had on you. Proud of the fact that he'd found the quickest way to reduce you to a whimpering, begging mess just for him. It was as though he had guessed the correct combination to a safe full of treasure on his first try. But he wasn't greedy. That wasn't his style.
His eyes met yours, and he gave you a look of sympathy while simultaneously and effortlessly plunging his fingers into you as far as he could reach, his fingers deliciously stretching you out. Your back arched completely off the couch, and you groaned loud enough that you were absolutely sure that anyone and everyone outside of that dressing room could hear you. Normally, you would have made a conscious effort to be quiet for fear of being embarrassed, but you'd been fantasizing about Danny’s hands bringing you to release for entirely too long tonight to care. He put his arm across your chest and gently laid you back down on the couch, and your muscles strained against him. He moved his face just inches from yours, his eyes staring into you with such intense longing that you were afraid you would cum just looking at him.
He steadily increased the rate at which his fingers pumped in and out of you, continually drawing more and more slickness from your core. After he was satisfied with how lubricated his fingers had become, he steadied his pace and curled his fingers to press against your g-spot. Between ragged gasps, you whimpered his name.
"Oh–oh fuck, Danny," you gasped, as his callouses, again, created the perfect friction inside your walls. "Oh my God."
He inched his face closer to you and met your mouth hard and hungry, taking in and swallowing all of your moans and praises. He pulled back just enough to release your lips from being entwined with his, but kept himself close enough for his lips to brush yours as he spoke.
"Cum for me, sugar. Cum for me, let me put you in my mouth, huh?"
His words were like gasoline for the fire you felt in the lowest pit of your stomach. Your hips bucked and rolled against his fingers, begging for just the smallest bit more to push you over your edge. He responded by curling his fingers even tighter and speeding up his pace. You moved your hips in sync with the thrust of his fingers and each time the two of you met, a moan escaped from your chest.
"Shit. Shitshitshit right there. Right there right there. I'm cumming. I'm fucking cumming. Don't stop. Fuuuck don't stop, Danny. Please."
You felt the dam break and consequently felt the proverbial flood that followed. The fire that had started in your belly quickly worked its way through every vein in your body. You looked at him as you felt your walls contracting around his fingers and noticed that he had proactively lowered himself to be eye level with your entrance, eager to clean up the mess he'd worked so hard to make.
As you began your descent from your climax, he slowed the pace of his fingers and began to lap up your warm arousal. Your hips instinctively twinged simply from all the extra stimulation, that of which he did not heed. He proceeded to remove his fingers from you and replace them with his tongue, delving deep into your core, and making the already sloppy sounds that emerged from between your legs even more obscene. He reached for your hips and pulled you down the couch against him, angling them upward and moving your legs to rest on his bare shoulders.
You threaded your hands into his hair, gripping it firmly between your fingers, and trying impossibly hard to get his tongue deeper inside of you than it already was. You basked in the warm tingling sensation that was radiating through your body as he simultaneously elicited and consumed your pleasure.
You felt the familiar slow burn of a climax begin to build back in your stomach and you groaned, tugging on his hair.
He pulled his head back slightly to catch his breath as he spoke. "Taste so goddamn good for me, baby." His voice was raspy, his throat coated with the remnants of your orgasm, his lips practically dripping. The sound of his voice continued to build the fire in your belly, and you gently rolled your hips against him. He grinned and took you back into his mouth, making use of his fingers again as well.
Your breath heaved as he diligently worked, curling his fingers and sucking your clit at the same time, and you found yourself on the cusp of your second release of the night. You tugged at his hair, rolled your hips to him, and pulled him closer to you, desperate to feel more of him.
Suddenly, he completely removed himself from you and gently slid your legs off of his shoulders, moving himself across the couch to lay his head back against the opposite armrest.
He beckoned to you with his index finger. "Come here, sweet girl."
You crawled up his body until you straddled his hips, feeling a tinge of nervousness about your legs' ability to hold you up in any capacity in the near future. He must have seen the slight panic in your eyes because he sat up and reached for you, pulling you into a firm, but incredibly sweet kiss. The way he held you when he kissed you this time made you feel cozy and safe, as if being wrapped in a big warm blanket.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
"Yeah, why?"
"You looked a little scared for a second. I just wanted to check in," he winked.
"Well. You might have to hold me up. Since you can 'handle me' so well," you teased.
"Aww," he teased back, "you weak in the knees for me now? Is that what it is?"
"Something like that," you said, laughing softly.
"Well, I hate to tell you, but I think it's about to get worse."
"Oh yeah?" you said, raising your eyebrows.
"Mhm," he said, laying back. He gently nudged your hips, signaling for you to lift them.
You placed a hand on his chest to steady yourself, still not trusting your legs to do their job, as you lifted your hips, taking him in your other hand. You lined him up with your entrance and slowly sank yourself down on his length.
As he entered you, you both simultaneously groaned. You felt your legs shake underneath you, and his hands instinctively moved to your hips, steadying you. The way that his hands wrapped around you made you feel small and fragile, while also increasing the warmth you felt in your core.
You eventually sank down to the hilt of his cock, and you shuddered as you bottomed out. He moaned and squeezed your hips, almost kneading them. You returned a moan in response and rolled your hips against him, testing the waters.
You raised your hips again and then dropped them back down, taking about half his length. You kept a decent pace, and watched his face twist with pleasure. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips sat slightly parted. His brown eyes drank in the sight of you while you loomed over him, watching you work. He slid his hands up your sides and cupped both of your breasts, thumbing over your hardened nipples. You felt the warmth beneath you increase yet again, just from the feeling of him holding essentially the entirety of your breasts in each of his hands.
You gradually felt your legs weakening, but you still tried to push through, for his sake. You were able to lift your hips less and less as time went on, and eventually, you struggled harder than you had so far, and you stilled, your breathing heavy, placing both of your hands on his chest.
"Fuck I can't– I–," you started.
"Shhhh, baby. You're okay," he said, soothing you. He removed himself from you and sat up, pulling you to him. You avoided his eyes, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry," you said, your voice almost imperceptible.
"Aw honey," he said, drawing his words out, still comforting you, "you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. He gently turned your head to look at him. "Lemme help, huh?"
You nodded, feeling the slight sting of tears in your eyes. You knew they were red now; that he would be able to tell that you were fighting them back. You tried to blink them away, but despite your efforts, one escaped and snuck down your cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb and kissed your forehead.
He placed one hand behind your head and one behind your back as he moved you to rest underneath him.
"You just relax and let me make you feel good one more time, sugar."
You nodded, swimming in the intoxicating sensation that his voice and choice of words were giving you.
He reached between the two of you, taking himself in his hand and teasing your folds with his tip. You sighed, tilting your head back.
"Open your legs for me, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and soft. "Let me stretch you out and fill you up so fuckin good."
You mustered up what minuscule lower-body strength you had left and rested your knees on either side of his hips, allowing him just enough access to do what he needed.
He slowly pushed himself into you, taking his time to let you adjust to his girth. Once he'd gotten as far as he could, he stilled, waiting for you to signal to him that you were ready for him to move. Once you did so, he slowly pulled out and thrust himself back into you, keeping a rather languid pace to start. You felt yourself moan each time his hips met yours, and you reached out to put your hands in his curly hair. He then quickened his pace and the intensity of his thrusts, which consequently increased the frequency of the sounds that came from you. You did your best to squeeze around his cock as it plunged in and out of you, and you felt him throbbing inside you as a result.
"Ahh fuck. Feel so goddamn good," he managed, punctuating every other word with a thrust. "Gimme one more, baby."
You involuntarily squeezed around him harder than you had the entire night, and you felt his hips stutter against you, a deep groan escaping from the depths of his chest.
You felt yourself reaching your climax, and your moans turned into whimpers. He kept an impressively steady pace, his cock seamlessly gliding in and out of you, hurtling you toward your edge. Your back arched as you reached your peak, and you held onto him as though your life was hanging in the balance. His pace never faltered, and he kept your climax steady for longer than anyone had ever managed before, causing you to absolutely writhe underneath him, every inch of your body positively burning with pleasure. He moved himself down your chest while his thrusts slowed, facilitating your come-down. He used a combination of his hands, lips, and tongue to occupy your breasts as you recovered. Your chest heaved into his mouth as he continued to satisfy you.
Once you had regained control of your breathing, you focused your attention on him. You lifted his head from your chest with your fingers tangled in his hair. His jaw sat slack, and he was panting. His eyes drooped and his expression was that of exhaustion, even more than it had been earlier.
You moved your hips, and his cock slipped out of you, sliding up; its tip resting on your stomach. You took him in your hand, steadily gliding it up and down. He closed his eyes at the feeling and sighed.
"Sit up and let me take care of you. You need it," you said, shocked at the firmness in your own voice. You'd never been one to be even remotely dominant in an encounter like this, but you'd somehow found the reigns and held onto them tightly.
You gathered that he must have had the same reaction as you, because his eyes opened and looked at you, first with a small look of surprise, followed by a smug, yet satisfied grin.
He did as you asked, sitting up and moving his knees apart for you. You kept a hold on his length as you made your way into the floor in front of him. You sat on your heels and leaned over him, your mouth just inches from the tip of his cock. You gathered your spit and spat it into your palm, then proceeded to spread it around until you were satisfied. As your hand worked his length, you moved slowly at first, making a conscious effort to squeeze just a little tighter around the head of his cock as your fist moved up and down.
You watched him lay his head back against the couch cushion, his breaths heavy and his eyes shut.
"God look at you," you said, your voice low.
His head remained on the cushion, but his eyes opened and peered down at you.
"You look so fucking good. So hard for me."
He swallowed thickly, panting harder now, his eyes still glued to you. He clung to every syllable that passed your lips.
"You think I can 'handle' it?" you asked, a smirk threatening your features.
He let out an airy laugh, "God I fuckin' hope so," he said between breaths.
You grinned and tightened your grip on him just slightly, still fisting him steadily. "Tell me."
"Whaddaya wanna hear?" he asked, successfully attempting to keep an even tone of voice.
"Want you to tell me what you need."
"Mmm," he nodded, "gimme a taste of my own medicine, huh?" he laughed.
You raised your eyebrows at him, waiting for his response. As you did so, you pulled the trick from earlier and twisted your wrist each time your hand moved upward. You felt his hips twinge as he sucked in a sharp breath.
"Fuuuck, honey," he panted, "Want you to suck my cock so goddamn good. Finish me off."
You wasted no time, taking him in your mouth while continuing to work him with your hand. His hands found your hair, and he gently tugged at it periodically, making you moan while you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock. He groaned and his head fell back against the couch again. You glanced up at him, watching him through your lashes. His face was flushed a deep red, and his forehead gleamed with a layer of sweat. His brows were knitted together and his eyes were closed. The rhinestones that adorned the outer parts of his eyes were still perfectly intact, along with his eyeliner, and you marveled at him.
You closed your eyes, gradually working your way down until you had taken his length to the hilt. You stilled there, holding your breath, working up the control of your reflexes enough to make yourself swallow around his cock. As soon as you did, you felt his leg and stomach muscles stiffen, and his grip on your hair tightened significantly. He let out a guttural moan, and you swallowed again. This time, his hips involuntarily bucked into your mouth, pressing the tip of his cock deeper and even more firmly into the back wall of your throat, eliciting the gag reflex you'd been working hard to suppress. You lifted your head and popped off of him, trying to blink away the tears in your eyes, swallow the massive accumulation of spit from your gag reflex, and regulate your breathing at the same time.
You huffed a few breaths, keeping your eyes down, afraid to look at him. You didn't have much experience in this area, and you were afraid that your efforts would be subpar.
As if hearing your thoughts aloud, he spoke, and brought you back out of the depths of your mind.
"Hey," he said, softly.
You looked up at him, your nerves visible in your expression.
"Take your time, sweetheart," he said, as he gathered your hair up into one of his hands. His other hand wiped the tears that had formed in the corners of your eyes from earlier. "Handling me a hell of a lot better than you think you are. Keep doing what you're doing and I'm fucking done for, I promise you."
You let out a soft laugh at his comforting words, your doubt still etched into the back of your mind. His eyes were tired, but soft. Encouraging. You felt safe with him.
You started with his tip and worked your way back down to his base again, trying your absolute hardest to keep control of your reflexes. When you swallowed again, you felt his cock twitch in your throat. He grunted and tugged at your hair. You raised your head slightly and sank back down, building up a quicker pace, bobbing and swallowing at the same time.
"Mmm fuck, baby," he panted, "That's it, right there."
He gently pushed his hips further into you, testing the waters. When he saw that you were able to take it this time, he brought them to your mouth more firmly, his cock gently stretching the depths of your throat. You lifted your head and popped off of him again, this time only to catch your breath. As you lifted your head, you replaced your mouth with your hand, not wanting to break the stimulation that he was getting.
Once you caught your breath, you got right back to work. When you'd taken him entirely for a third time, he instantly began to rock his hips again. This time was faster and even more firm than before, and you found it difficult to suppress the urge to gag. You thought about the night and how exhausted he was. You thought about how you could feel with every inch of him in your mouth just how badly he needed you to make him finish. You tried with everything in you to keep going, to take every single thing that he was giving. You waited for the right moment, and began to swallow him in sync with the movement of his hips. His muscles immediately tightened and you felt his cock straining to hold out for just a moment longer, just trying to revel in the feeling of you taking him in as far as he could possibly go. His hips rolled into you desperately while the head of his cock continually rubbed against the back of your throat.
"Right. Fuckin'. There," he choked. You felt his hips stutter against your face. "C'mon, sugar. Takin' me so goddamn good."
His muscles tensed again and he pushed his hips into you while simultaneously pulling you to him. You felt him release, coating the entirety of your throat as he continued his push and pull, essentially fucking your throat while you swallowed his cum.
When he was finished, you lifted yourself from him, a trail of spit and cum still connecting the two of you. You caught your breath and sank back down to finish cleaning up the mess you'd made. Once you were satisfied, you sat back on your heels and looked at him.
His eyes were closed and his face was relaxed. His breathing was deep, slow, and even. Deciding not to disturb him, you gathered your clothes from the floor and carried them to the counter in front of the vanity mirror on the wall behind the couch. You couldn't blame him one bit for falling asleep so quickly. As you looked down to grab your bra from the counter, you felt his arms snake themselves around you as he cupped your breasts in his hands. His lips brushed your neck, just under your ear as he spoke.
"Where ya goin’?" he pressed his lips into your neck and licked the spot when he was finished. You felt intense warmth spread between your legs yet again, melting under his touch.
"I thought you were asleep," you answered.
He looked at you in the mirror, his face full of playful disbelief. "So you were just gonna leave me here?"
You laughed, struggling to find an excuse, "I–,"
He reached and turned your head to him, pulling you into a soft, warm kiss. You turned to face him, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled back and looked at you. "Well I was hoping you'd at least stick around for the night. I've got a top-floor hotel room across the street. Really good view."
You took your turn to pass off a disbelieving look. "You mean to tell me that we just did all that on the couch of your dressing room, and you had a penthouse suite across the street this entire time?"
He paused, his eyes wide. After a beat of thick silence, he said, "I– uh, I figured you'd be able ta handle it."
You laughed and pushed him playfully. He kissed you again and helped you finish getting dressed. Then he dressed himself and gathered his things, proceeding to escort you across the street to settle in for the night.
where the love light gleams || danny wagner x reader
Read on AO3 | Masterlist
Summary: You have a headache, and Danny takes good care of you.
Pairings: Danny Wagner x Reader
Genre: Holiday fluff, v tender smut, hurt/comfort
Word Count: 2.5k | Warnings: smoking, smut (it’s not very… graphic? but it is smut nonetheless. with love, minors begone.)
A/N: Can you believe I’m a self-proclaimed Danny girl and have only just now written a fic for him?? I think this makes up for the wait, though. It’s just Danny being perfect and sweet and wonderful. I hope you like it! ♡
“Can I sit on your lap?”
Danny looked up at you, a pleasantly surprised smile lighting his face. “Sure, love.”
He pushed his chair back from the table to make room for you, patting his thigh in invitation. You curled up in his lap and leaned your head against his shoulder, giving a contented sigh when he wrapped his arms around you.
“You ok?” he asked softly, only for you to hear. “Ready to go home?”
You shook your head. “I want to stay.”
He brushed your hair back from your face. “You’re sure?”
You pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I’m sure. You’re having fun, and I’ll be fine snuggled up with you.”
He smiled. “Okay, sweetheart. Thank you. Let me know when you’re ready to go, ok?”
You nodded and snuggled against him, leaning into his solid warmth as he went back to his conversation. His sweater was warm and soft against your cheek, and you liked how his voice and his laugh rumbled in his chest. You were more than happy to stay so he could have a good time with the boys.
hey guys !! srry for not posting, i do have a couple fics/blurbs in my drafts (one rafe, one barry, and one jj).
it takes me a little bit longer to get motivation to write since i’m not attracted to men, and i’m writing gxb fanfic 😭😭. i like doing it (writing) don’t get me wrong, it just takes me a bit longer. srry for the wait ❤️❤️❤️ stuff is on the way i promise !!
