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risuola · 2 months

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ENTRY #1 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I lay my dreams upon your feet, please be careful taking your steps.

contents: arranged marriage!au, angst-ish, slight age gap (reader's around 22, Satoru is 28), loveless marriage, brief mentions of blood and toxicity — wc. 1975

a/n: starting a new series while two other are hanging in the air and hundreds of wips are waiting for being written? yeah, that's me, but hey, I needed to start something new to get my creative juices flowin'. this one's gonna be a series of entries, a diary if you will.

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When you were younger, a girl innocent and little, blissfully unaware of the world around you, you wished to marry a prince. Influenced by tales told by your mother and tv shows you watched with big and curious eyes, you had a vision of the ceremony straight out of a dream. A magical display of love and the path of rose petals and feathers through which you were meant to stride in a dress made of satin and lace – white and elegant. You also saw him, the man that your heart would choose and desire. A prince handsome and kind, who would love and protect you even if by doing so, his life would be on the line. You were too little to be aware of the naivety of the dreamy pictures in your head.

Sometimes you wished to turn back time and once again step into the shoes of the innocent you who never got to know sadness and fear. Sometimes you think of it with a bittersweet smile, reminiscing the way you used to go about your days without care about the world around. With mild regret you reminiscence the moment you learned that everything around you was–

“I’m talking to you. God damn it, are you deaf?”

“I heard you.”

–a lie.

You were a late bloomer but besides the judgmental looks you were receiving left and right from the elders of your clan, you also owe it the beauty of your prolonged childhood. Few years of freedom that you lost the memory of how it tasted and yet, you like to go back to it and drown in the pictures it left in your mind. Whilst all of your siblings were training and learning, fighting and risking their lives against the cursed spirits, you brought shame to your family. There was no place for someone without a cursed technique in a world of sorcery and you were made painfully aware of it at the day of your tenth birthday. That was also the end of your childhood and the day you wish to forget. You remember how the smiles of your parents turned into frowns and the soft, melodic tone of your mother became harsh and never got back to how it used to be. The tales and cookies vanished and what was left was nothing but suffering and degradation.

“Oh, did you?”

It took you six years of training to awaken the technique that later on was called the most powerful in the history of your clan. Six years of days and nights filled with sweat and tears, six years of bloody knuckles and bruises but also, it took six years of your determination to prove all of them wrong. Despite being the youngest of four siblings, you were able to stand against the worst of curses with nothing but a sword and raw power when everyone else relied heavily on the cursed techniques. You were strong and skilled, you were trained and fearless but still, you were looked down. A shame. To your family you were nothing but a shame.

And then, suddenly, you became a pride. You were on everyone’s mouths; you were talked about as if you were the most expensive and rare diamond. Years of harsh treatment you received suddenly became forgotten because once your technique awakened, you became the strongest in your clan, surpassing your siblings, your parents and everyone else who bore the same name as you. Suddenly other clans were talking about you too, with curiosity and fear. Suddenly, you became someone. But somehow, it didn’t make you happy. Once you realized that the world you were born into wasn’t a tale you always thought it is, you lost the ability to enjoy it. Maybe the pain of what you had given to become a true sorcerer rendered you unable to fully appreciate the adulthood, but you found it hard to see the light, when the darkness seemed to embed itself into your soul.

“You know what? Fuck that. I’m leaving.”

Ah yes, the marriage. With years that had passed since you were young and naïve, you stripped yourself of the dreams of sharing a life with a prince, but a part of you still hoped for love and calm. A part of your heart wished to settle with someone you’ll trust and care for. Someone who will ground you in the world of constant danger and for years you thought that you will find a man with whom the stressful life of sorcery will be a little kinder, a little less scary, a little more bearable. It was a child in you, a faint spark of juvenile carelessness that never died down, even in the darkest of days you endured.

You let out a deep sigh and allowed your lids to close. Your head leaned forward, forehead restless against the cold doors of the kitchen cabinet. The loud thud of doors snapping shut echoed in your ears for few moments and then it became silent. An earie cacophony of nothing but your own breath and soft ticking of the clock on the wall next to you. For a moment you thought about how many times you relived this very same situation already. The cold detachment, harsh exchange of words and then he’s gone. A salve of ruthless stabs that never seem to hurt less and the sound of your own voice forming sentences you wouldn’t think of if the circumstances were different.

First time you saw Satoru Gojo was many years before you truly knew who he is. It was a picture that you noticed by accident, somewhere in the papers your parents had spread out on the coffee table. He was a young boy back then. You remember the impression he made on you. He looked cold, intimidating, unapproachable. He looked like someone you’d never think of becoming friends with. You were young, just barely nine years old and he was already fifteen. He was already the strongest and even though you weren’t actively involved in the world of sorcery, you knew his name.

And then, many years later you sat in front of him. While the elders of your clans discussed the importance of the arrangement that was planned within the sorcerer’s society, Satoru was resting on a couch unamused, with his legs crossed and eyes covered by a layer of white bandages. You watched him, analyzed his lack of interest and the veil of cold arrogance with realization that everything you wished for was never on the table for you. During the two long hours of conversations that were about you and yet no one asked for your opinion, you and Satoru didn’t exchange one word.

You heard his voice actively directed at you for the first time during the wedding ceremony. It was small, very private and filled with people that you mostly didn’t know. It was far from perfect, though pretty in a way. Under the cautious watch of the most important figures of sorcery, you said the vows that made you feel nothing and yet meant so much. The words of promise, that for anyone else meant love and safe future, to you meant status and the name. You became Gojo. You became a wife to the strongest man in the world.

Now it’s seven months after the wedding and the day you and him moved together. The apartment you shared was filled with both yours and his belongings and yet it didn’t feel like home. It lacked the atmosphere of love and understanding and on days like this, you were losing hope it will ever feel different than miserable.

That day was nothing out of ordinary when it came to your marriage. Yet another fight, yet another beeline he made to leave you alone in the empty house. You always argue. There was no warmth between the walls of the apartment, there was no care and respect. Instead, there were snaps and insults, there was silence and avoidance. The large bed in what was meant to be a shared bedroom was occupied only by you, while Satoru preferred to sleep on a couch even though his tall frame was way too big for it. Besides one very brief and formal kiss you shared during the wedding day, you never kissed again. There was no holding hands, no incidental touches, no nothing that would convey any sort of feeling and only times your bodies made contact was when he grabbed your wrists in anger or when your shoulder hit his arm while you were passing by.

Truth is, you had no idea what Satoru was talking about that morning before he left. You were lost in thoughts, but you could only imagine he was mentioning the meeting he needed to attempt in the evening. He probably won’t be home until late and once he’ll come back, he’ll be annoyed by elders and for that, you couldn’t blame him. Whenever you face the elders of jujutsu community, your blood pressure raises as well and you’re quite calm by nature. That being said, if unlucky, you’ll be the one to take the hit of his anger.

Your fingers run across the golden band that adorned your finger. It was an absentminded motion that became a habit of sorts, helping you gather the thoughts, calming your mind. The cold feel of metal allowed you to let go of the stress and forced you to suck it up yet again.

Two hours after the morning fight, you found yourself surrounded by the familiar buildings in the Jujutsu tech area, watching your husband from afar. Satoru was in the middle of teaching students, if whatever the hell he was doing could be called teaching. Megumi was resting next to him as some other kids were fighting on the training field. The sound of wooden swords colliding echoed between the woods that surrounded the expanse of the school zones. Gojo was looking as careless as ever, calm and smiling – a sight that you almost never see unless he’s facing someone else. He was chatting with his almost-son, shouting some advice to the sparing students and going about his day as he usually does, but one thing was different.

“Satoru,” you called his name as you went down the stairs to reach the spot where he was standing. He noticed you, you knew that. He most likely knew about your appearance way before you even got to see him, but now he chose to actively ignore your presence as his light blue eyes stayed focused on the field instead of landing on you.

“What brings you here?” He asked and you could tell how the tone of his voice changed from the friendly sensei to your husband’s rough approach. He wasn’t happy with your visit; you weren’t welcome near him and everyone knew that. The fact of your marriage being arranged wasn’t a secret and it also wasn’t a secret that it was Gojo’s clan decision, not his own. Satoru felt some sort of humiliation that despite him being the strongest, he was stripped of a choice who to spend his life with and you, as his wife, were paying for his resentment.

“I brought you this,” you replied, reaching your hand towards him. His eyes landed on your palm and you noticed a ghost of relief that washed over his features when he took the band of black fabric from your hold. His blindfold, that you realized was ripped – he left at home in the morning. That was most likely what he was talking to you about because once you cleaned up after the breakfast, you noticed the band and his broken glasses left on the coffee table.

“So you were listening,” Satoru said quietly and securely covered his eyes.

“I wasn’t.”

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undiscovered-horizon · 8 months

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Die Happy - Sanji x Reader

SUMMARY: Sanji is disillusioned about your lack of interest in him. Someone like you could pick and choose among princes, kings and emperors. What's a measly cook to you? Nevertheless, his lovesick heart continuously rejoices when you choose him to waste time with.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.3k

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi

Part 2 -> "Maelstrom"

Sanji has never believed in ghouls, witches, faeries and the like. However, when he met you his belief began to shatter:

Like a dark sorceress covering the whole world with a curse, you lured all the influential, important men like fire does moths. At first, Sanji fooled himself that all those generals, merchants and noblemen only wanted something pretty to hang onto their shoulders but reality destroyed his comforting illusion when the said men offered riches most people couldn’t even fathom. If you asked them for an armada to sail to the Grand Line, they’d only ask what type of wood you’d prefer. Despite something akin to world domination lying at your fingertips, you always laughed those offers off, telling your powerful suitors that you would think about their words and get back to them.

Sanji once asked whether you’re truly considering marrying one of the generals or kings. Some more naive part of him hoped you’d say no. Alas, the truth, once again, was his adversary:

“Obviously!” you giggled at his silly question. “But I won’t marry the first one that offers me wealth and whatnot. First, I’d like to see all of my options and the world…” your voice trailed away as you vaguely pointed around the two of you. “Well, it’s a big place. Many more kingdoms to visit.”

But to his own demise, the cook was a fool unlike any other. He had no chance at winning your heart, no matter how much he’d try. Still, his untamable desire egged him on, whispering sweet songs of your grace. Even if he could taste your lips only in his imagination, he could do his best for you to have a reason to keep him around like a dog that begs for scraps at his master’s table.

Sanji knows he’s only hurting himself, only furthering his desperation when he makes you smile or earns a speck of your affection. Every dawn, he promises to free himself from your sorcery but when dusk comes and his left with the Moon, his only confidant, he realizes that he could never possess enough power to cut himself free from you. You’ve pierced his heart right through and if he pulls your knife out of his chest, he’s bound to bleed out and die. It’s better if he lets you have complete control over his mind and soul - it’s the only way he will make it out alive.

He’s left cold and lonely on that night. Soft, silver moonlight washes over him through the small porthole in the wall of his room. The sea is almost black at this hour of the night but it becomes a mystical sapphire when the Moon’s glow washes over the lazy waves making them glisten like pure diamonds.

Diamonds… maybe if he had diamonds, you’d see him as a man and not just a shipmate.

Quiet knocking on his door wakes Sanji up from his thoughts. Before he has a chance to get up and open the door or tell the guest to come in, the mysterious visitor enters out of their own volition.

Your tired face makes Sanji think about painting in museums - the ones all connoisseurs consider “classics” and “timeless”. The silk shirt you’re wearing looks not only awfully expensive but, which is much worse, to be a men’s size. Its hem ends right underneath your buttcheeks, threatening to expose your body should you lift your hands. In the darkness of his cabin, you appear as nothing beyond a phantom, a hallucination born out of desperation. And just like a ghost, you’ve come to haunt and torment him in the sweetest of ways; in a way only you can.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks in a raspy voice. Sanji is doing a great job at appearing unaffected by your rather scantily clad form.

Carefully, you close the door behind you and walk towards him. Your skin glows when you step into the rays of soft moonlight pouring in through the porthole. Dishevelled hair, half-closed eyes and a slightly puffy face - Sanji has imagined you this way countless times but never actually seen. He can feel his body burning up, telling him to seize the opportunity, to wash you in the most charming and suave words he can think of.

“Nami kicks while sleeping,” you say quietly. “I swear to god my whole side is bruised at this point. Can I sleep with you?”

Sanji has to remind himself to breathe and to do so calmly. He’s cool, completely in control of himself. His mouth feels unbearably dry.

“‘Course you can,” he answers casually. With a swift move of his arm, he lifts the duvet. “Come on in.”

The pure bliss that suddenly appears on your face forces Sanji to take in a sharp, ragged breath. It’s an expression he also imagined one too many times when his desperation poisons his mind - not that he’s willing to admit it even to himself. He knows it’s wrong to even entertain a scenario in which you would grace him with such an enraptured face. Still, his will is not as strong as he often makes it out to be.

“Sanji, you are my salvation,” you tell him while getting under the covers with him.

“I know, love.”

It’s both strange and natural, the way your body fits his. As though the two of you have done it so much the memory of your muscles twists and turns your limbs to rest in the most comfortable and intimate way. The odd familiarity makes Sanji think that maybe in another lifetime this is how he always sleeps. He wishes he could find himself in that reality even for a second. Alas, it’s too far out of his reach.

“Damn, you’re really comfortable,” you mumble against his chest. Your hot breath makes him shiver. “And warm. I don’t think I’ll be going back to my bed.” A small grin of cosiness appears on your face - one that Sanji will never forget.

His broad chest and strong arm normally go unnoticed by you but now they’re like a fortress. And just like high stone walls are an unspoken promise of security and happiness, his firm hold on your body is a silent oath of a good night's sleep.

“Stay as long as you want,” he whispers back to you.

Maybe if you weren’t so exhausted, you’d notice that his words aren’t a statement but a plea. They’re the last thing you remember before drifting off to a restful slumber.

Your breathing slows down and gains a steady, shallow rhythm. Keeping you close to his chest, Sanji allows his hands to gently brush against your arm and back. His movements are feathery, almost fearful. He wouldn’t want you to wake up and change your mind about spending the night beside him - he can indulge in his heart’s desire but he must do so carefully.

“If you only gave me a chance,” he whispers into the night.

Knowing you’re asleep and bound to remain ignorant of his affections, Sanji kisses the top of your head. His lips linger against your hair while he takes in the scent that haunts him day and night. Unknowingly, his grip around your body tightens at that moment as though he has suddenly grown most terrified of having you disappear. Too many nights he’s dreamed of this exact scenario only to wake up to a cold, empty bed.

When the dawn arrives and you leave his arms, this little moment of affection won't mean anything to you. It means nothing now. Sanji knows this very well. He doesn't try to lie to himself that maybe you'll wake up a changed person and finally see him as more than a friendly comrade. Although tonight means nothing to you, it holds an unspeakable weight to Sanji, who will forever gloat about the fact that when you needed help, it was him you turned to. It was his arms that guarded your sleep for a few hours.

Fighting off sleep until he collapses, Sanji revels in the feeling of you against his body and pretends, even if for one night, that you’re his the same way he will always be yours. Watching you sleep cuddled into him, he swears he could die happy now.

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uluvjay · 6 months

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Spiked hot coco- L. Hamilton

Lewis Hamilton x fem! Teammate reader

In which someone spikes the hot coco at the Mercedes Christmas party and it leads you and Lewis to a supply closet

Warnings? SMUT, penetrative sex(p in v), unprotected sex(a big no no), fingering, sex in a closet, pet names, dirty talk, slight intoxication, consumed alcohol, I know Lewis doesn’t drink but for the sake of the fic plz act like he does, sorry for any errors

Day 9 of my ficmas celebration!

“Whew!” You coughed as the alcohol taste met the back of your throat.

“What?” Lewis questioned as he poured his own cup of hot chocolate.

“Someone had some fun with the hot coco.” You laughed as his face twisted up at the taste.

“Damn” he coughed attempting to clear the burn from his throat.

“What’s happening over here.” You heard a thick Austrian accent question before arms were placed over both your and Lewis’s shoulders.

“Someone spiked the coco.” You laughed looking up at your team principal.

“Oh yes! It’s good isn’t it.” He smiled

“it was you?” Lewis laughed pointing at the tall man.

“Yes, it’s a tradition we do back home. Figured it would help loosen some people up after this season.” He shrugged before walking off to see his wife.

“I can’t with him.” You laughed with a shake of your head.

Lewis nodded in agreement as he looked down at you, you wore a small red dress that hugged you in all the right places, truly leaving nothing to the imagination.

You looked up feeling his dark eyes on you, a blush coating your cheeks when you realized he had been checking you out.

You coughed lightly breaking his trance and he offered you an awkward smile before he took off across the room to go bother one of the engineers.

The two of you didn’t come into contact for the rest of the evening but that didn’t mean you couldn’t feel his stare on you from across the room, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t watching him as well.

Finishing your third spiked hot chocolate you excused yourself from your conversation with Susie and Toto before heading down a hall towards the bathroom.

You could hear a pair of feet following you and while you knew you should be worried something inside you was telling to not be. And just as you were about to pass one of the supply closets you felt a hand wrap around your upper arm and pull you into it.

“What the fuck.” You grumbled turning around to find Lewis once the door had shut. “Lewis! What the hell are we doing in here!?” You scolded once his large body was facing you.

“I needed to get you alone” he whispered, body stepping closer to yours, pushing you closer and closer to the concrete wall.

“Lewis we can’t do this, not again.” You reminded him as his arms caged you in, his expensive cologne mixed with the light sent of alcohol filling your senses.

“Why not baby?” He spoke lowly, one of his tatted fingers reaching up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear.

You blamed the butterflies that filled your stomach at the sound of the pet name on the alcohol, but deep down you knew it took a lot more then three drinks to get you drunk.

“B-because, we’re teammates Lewis-it could mess the dynamic up.”

“The last time didn’t mess anything up though.” He pouted, hands moving down to hold your waist.

You cursed in your head as goosebumps appeared due to his touch, “But a second time could, plus you know what Toto said.” You spoke, looking into his deep eyes.

“What Toto doesn’t know won’t hurt him” he smirked, head dipping down to place kisses along your neck.

A gasp came from your throat at the feeling of his lips on you, your body immediately melting under the feeling of his lips on your sensitive skin.

His teeth lightly nipped at the skin, his tongue running over the spot before a kiss was placed there.

“Lewis.” You whimpered, a hand tangling into his freshly done braids.

“Hmm?” He spoke, lips still working all around your neck.

You pulled him from his spot to look at you, “if we’re going to do this we have to be quick.” You whimpered.

A smile covered his face at your words and soon his hands were on the backs of your thighs as he hoisted you up and wrapped your long legs around his waist.

“You sure this is okay?” He asked quickly before you two went any further.

“Completely sure.” You mumbled, allowing all your self control to slip out the window as you slammed your lips against his.

They were just as soft and luscious as last time, fitting perfectly against yours as you two moved in sync. One of his hands slipping below the skirt of your dress to play with your panties while your hands held tightly onto the back of his neck.

“So wet for me.” He groaned, his thick fingers running through your folds.

“All for you.” You cried as one of his fingers pushed inside you.

He pumped his finger for a moment before allowing another to join, scissoring them at a fast pace pulling whine after while from your throat.

“Gotta get you ready for me baby, it’s been awhile” he whispered into your ear, teeth lightly nipping the skin before he pulled away.

His movements started to get messier and faster, the sounds of your whimpers filling the tiny closet and right as he felt your cunt hugging his fingers he pulled them away, a whine of disappointment falling from you at the feeling of emptiness and denied orgasm.

“Shh, baby.” He cooed, using his hand that wasn’t holding your tiny waist to undo his pants and push his hovers down just enough for his thick cock to spring out.

Your body shuddered at the feeling of his tip running up and down your folds, a deep whine echoing in the room as he pushed in side.

He groaned into your neck as he bottomed out, his large hands digging into your hips as the your warm walls welcomed him in.

“Fuck Lewis.” You cried as you felt his tip press right against the sensitive spot inside you.

“So tight honey.” He groaned.

He leaned back to watch your face as his hips pulled back slowly before thrusting hard into you, his hips meeting the skin of your thighs as your soft cries begin to fill the tiny closet.

Lewis rolled up the skirt of your dress allowing him to watch where you two connected, a growl escaping from his throat at the sight of his cock coming out shiner and shiner after each thrust.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He praised, smirking at the whine that came from you at his words.

“Lewis.” You cried the man’s name pathetically as you began to feel the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Getting close honey? I can feel you hugging me so tight.” He spoke.

“Mhm, fuck! So good Lew.” You cried as his thumb came to rub slow teasing circles around your clit.

“Yeah? Who fucks you this good darling? Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours! All yours Lewis-belongs to you.” You sobbed as your legs began to shake and the heat of your climax spread through your body.

Lewis pressed his lips to yours in a nasty kiss to silence your scream, your nails digging crescent moons into his neck from how hard you gripped the skin.

“Fuck honey, gonna cum.” He groaned, hands tightening even tighter around your waist.

“Come on Lewis, come for me baby.” You whispered in his ear, tongue running along his lobe.

Your name escaped his throat in a deep moan as he spilled inside you, his thrusts stilling as he filled you to the absolute brim.

You two stayed like that for a moment, your nails tracing the back of his neck while his lips left light kisses to your neck.

Finally when he could feel your releases running down his semi-hard cock did he pull out, setting you on shaky legs as he tucked himself away.

He did his best to help you look presentable, brushing his fingers through your hair and wiping away the few tears that had fallen from your eyes.

The closet was quiet but not awkward, you both knew you shouldn’t have done it again but you couldn’t help it.

“Uh-we should probably go back out, Toto is probably looking for us.” You spoke first and the way his face fell had your heart breaking into a thousand pieces.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He coughed as he hastily turned to open to door but your hand on his wrist stopped him.

Turning to face you he was met with a shy smile, despite having just fucked you for the second time. “Dinner at my place tomorrow? Be there at five and bring Roscoe.” You smiled, leaning up to place at sweet kiss to his cheek and leaving the room before him.

Butterflies filled the man’s stomach as he watched you walk away, he wasn’t sure how this would work out between the two of you but he was glad you were trying to make it work.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x you #mercedes formula one #f1blr #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #lewis x reader #lewis smut #jay’sficmas

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vanteguccir · 2 months

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Speak Now | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where it's Y/N's wedding day, but Matt isn't the groom. During the ceremony, an act of impulse on the boy's part changes the fate of everything.

Warning: Slightly angst, but with a happy ending!

Requested?: Yes, by anon.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The cool orange color of the corner lamp lightly illuminated the walls of Matt's room, painting the room with a serene aura. He was still in his bed, mentally preparing himself to get up and start the day slowly, his thoughts still hazy from sleep, a low voice reminding him of the tasks he had to do - writing the script for the next video, answering emails, and posting his collaboration with Prada.

For a moment, he allowed himself to bask in the feeling of tranquility, but that peace was abruptly interrupted when the sound of his bedroom door slamming open echoed through the walls.

Matt turned abruptly to the source of the sound, frowning and opening his mouth to curse whoever had barged into his room so suddenly, but the words caught in his throat when he saw Nick standing there, his eyes wide and his hand holding an envelope tightly.

"Nick, what the fuck?" Matt's voice sounded hoarse and rough from lack of use as his eyes traveled from Nick's face to the envelope and back again.

"Matt... It's from Y/N." Nick muttered apprehensively.

The boy sat down abruptly on the mattress when he heard his ex name, watching Nick slowly approaching and leaving the envelope on the crumpled comforter that covered the younger boy's legs.

"I don't know what it's about, I just found it on the floor in front of the front door."

Matt took the paper delicately, a feeling of apprehension growing in his chest as he recognized Y/N's elegant handwriting on the sender, his own name, and his brother's in the recipient field. His mind wondered why she had sent that, who even sends letters through mail in 2024?

With shaking hands, he tore open the envelope and removed the paper inside, barely noticing Nick's silent exit. His heart sank when he noticed that it wasn't just any paper. It was an invitation... a wedding invitation.

The words printed in embossed letters and in gold color on high quality paper, announcing the day she would become the wife of her current boyfriend, or rather, fiancé.

An overwhelming mix of emotions hit him head-on. Matt gasped, holding the invitation as if it were a precious artifact, but also a knife that pierced his heart. He could feel the bitter taste of regret filling his mouth as his memories with Y/N flooded his mind.

He found himself transported back to the happy days when they were together, each moment shining in vivid colors before his eyes. The shared laughter, the hugs on cold or hot nights, the whispered promises of eternal love... Everything seemed so close, and yet so far away.

Tears threatened to flood his eyes as he struggled to process the magnitude of the situation. He bitterly regretted letting Y/N go, letting his insecurities and fears ruin what they shared. He knew he had no one else to blame but himself for his own loneliness.

A violent internal struggle unfolded within the boy. A part of him wanted to throw the invitation through the window, refuse to witness the ceremony that would tear him up even more inside. But another part, a stubborn and masochistic part, insisted on attending, as if seeing Y/N unite with another man was the punishment he deserved for his failures.

Matt clutched the invitation tightly in his hand, lightly crumpling the expensive paper, feeling fragile and broken. Every beat of his heart echoed with the weight of a decision he didn't know if he was capable of making. He felt the weight of loss pressing down on his shoulders, the pain of a wound that never seemed to heal.

Silent tears streamed down his cheeks as he fought his emotions in turmoil. He loved Y/N more than anything in this world, and even though he had already lost her the day he saw her walk through his bedroom door for the last time, he still held on to the narrow thread of hope he had in him, but now he was in danger of losing her forever, and it tormented him to the core of his soul.

With an anguished sigh, Matt finally let out a choked sob, pressing his hand against his mouth to muffle the ugly sounds, quickly glancing at the door left ajar by Nick. The last thing he wanted was to worry his brothers.

He knew he had no choice but to face the painful reality that Y/N would move on without him. He wished, with all his being, that things could have been different, that he could go back in time and right the wrongs he had made.

But now, all he could do was accept the invitation he held in his trembling hand and prepare to witness the love of his life being given to someone else.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Matt took a deep breath as he, along with his brothers, entered the imposing church where Y/N's wedding was about to take place. The decor details seemed to jump out, a lush fusion of fresh flowers - Y/N's favorite - and delicate fabrics, creating a fairytale atmosphere, exactly as he and Y/N had fantasized about for so many nights.

The rows of chairs were lined up precisely, each adorned with a floral arrangement. Matt watched the carefully planned details, feeling a pang in his heart.

As he rotated his gaze around the space, his eyes met Y/N's parents accompanied by her fiancé, who was already looking back at the triplets. Matt's eyes widened slightly when he noticed the man open a gentle smile towards him, a strange feeling of resignation and envy flooding him almost automatically.

Victor, who he saw so much of only through Y/N's social media, was tall, with slightly curly brown hair that shone in the light, and vibrant blue eyes that seemed to reflect genuine joy. Matt couldn't help but notice how he perfectly fit the stereotype of the type of man Y/N always seemed to prefer - an observation that left a sour taste in his mouth.

The boy wondered if Y/N really had a specific type or if it was just a coincidence that he and her fiancé shared similar characteristics.

He forced himself to look away, his mind a mess of conflicting emotions and his heart screaming that he should just turn around and go back home. With a resigned sigh, Matt followed his brothers as they found their assigned seats.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Matt's heart was in turmoil as he anxiously awaited the long-awaited moment of the bride's entrance. His eyes darted nervously around the church, his breath caught in his throat as he tried to control the flood of thoughts that threatened to consume him.

And then, as if time had slowed down, soft music filled the air, announcing Y/N's arrival. His breath seemed to catch as he saw her appear in the aisle, a glimpse of ethereal beauty in her stunning wedding dress. His heart was filled with a mix of joy and pain when he saw her so perfect.

Matt thought he would only see her in a wedding dress on their own wedding day.

Tears threatened to blur his vision as he fought to hold them back. He wanted to scream from the rooftops and release all his pent-up anger, but his words were lost in the void of his silent anguish.

"Matt, are you okay?" Chris asked beside him in an almost muted whisper, only receiving a short nod in return.

As she approached the altar, Matt felt his leg begin to bounce involuntarily in a mixture of anxiety and hesitation. Every step she took seemed to sound like an echo in his own broken heart, a constant reminder of what could have been but would never be.

He had to do something.

When Y/N finally reached the foot of the altar, Matt clenched his right hand into a fist tightly, his teeth biting his thumbnail in a desperate attempt to contain whatever was wanting to come out. He watched with a lump in his throat as she and Victor turned face-to-face, everything sounding muffled against his ears.

He had to.

Every word spoken was like a knife in his heart. He wondered if Y/N could feel the intensity of his emotions, if she could see the love and sadness mixed in his eyes as her own eyes circled the room momentarily, carrying a mix of nervousness and anxiety.

Silence hung in the church, heavy and dense, as the priest finished his solemn last words.

"If anyone has anything to say against this union, speak now or forever remain silent." Finally came the phrase so feared and long awaited.

The priest's voice echoed through the sacred space, resounding off the walls as the guests held their breath. Matt felt his heart hammer in his chest, almost hearing it in his ears, a tumultuous mix of fear and determination swirling in his mind.

He needed to.

And then, before he could think twice, before he could stop the urge that welled up inside him, Matt stood up. His body acted on instinct, his chair scraping with a harsh sound against the floor at the abrupt movement of his body.

The loud sound cut through the silence like a knife, causing the guests to turn to his figure in shock, eyes wide in horror. The priest raised his eyebrows in surprise, his words frozen on his lips as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes.

Victor, Y/N's fiancé, looked at Matt with flaming hatred in his eyes, a completely different expression than the one he displayed moments before the ceremony. He knew who Matt was, and he knew Matt would mean trouble for him.

But Matt ignored all of this. At that moment, all that mattered was Y/N. His blue eyes brimming with fear and love looked intensely into Y/N's shocked ones, who seemed frozen in place.

"I-I..." Y/N began, clearing her throat and turning to face the sea of guests. "I need a moment."

And then, without waiting for a response or further intervention, Y/N got down from the altar and turned around, starting to run towards the back of the church. Her footsteps echoed in the silence with the click of her high heels against the floor, each beat of her heart matching the frantic pace of her run.

"Matt!" Nick called through gritted teeth, quickly glancing at the people around him as he raised his right hand, holding Matt's wrist tightly. "Sit down, now."

Matt barely had time to process what was happening before his instincts took over again, pulling his wrist from Nick's grip quickly. He ignored the confused murmurs of the guests accompanying him as he ran after Y/N.

He had to reach her, had to find a way to explain himself, to convince her to listen. He couldn't let her go without a fight, not after everything he had risked.

Matt's feet pounded the church floor as he ran, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He barely noticed Victor's screams echoing behind him, barely noticed the dirty looks that glared at his back as he chased the only love he'd ever had. All that mattered was reaching Y/N, holding her hand, and never letting it go again.

Matt pushed open the back doors of the church hard, his mind spinning in a whirlwind as he prepared to face whatever was on the other side.

He was expecting the worst - a furious face, eyes full of rage, cutting words thrown his way. But what he found was the complete opposite of that.

Y/N's figure was there, just a few feet away. She held her heels in one of her hands, her veil was lying on the floor next to her bare feet, and her beautiful dress was rumpled, but there was a huge smile on her face, and her eyes showed an intense relief.

Matt frowned in confusion, his own mind in turmoil as he tried to process what was happening. The boy expected her to confront him, to blame him for interrupting her perfect day, for destroying her dreams. But not that.

Before he could do anything, Y/N dropped her heels onto the delicate veil before running towards him, her steps quick and purposeful. She stopped before Matt, her eyes shining with an intensity that left him speechless.

Without hesitation, the girl raised her hands towards his face, cupping his red, hot cheeks, her fingers touching his skin with a tenderness that made him shiver. And then, so suddenly, she pulled him towards her, her lips meeting his in a deep, desperate kiss.

Matt felt the world disappear around him as he gave himself over to the gesture, all his questions slipping from his mind, his hands finding their place around Y/N's waist almost automatically, as if it was marked into his soul.

He could feel the warmth of her body against his, the soft touch of her lips against his own, and Matt had never, until that moment, truly understood how much he missed that.

Matt's lips gently parted from Y/N's seconds later, his eyes remained fixed on her face, as if trying to decipher a complex riddle. He felt the euphoria of the moment still pulsing through his veins, but a sense of confusion was still mixed with the intensity of it all.

"I... I don't understand." The boy murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he struggled to find the right words to express the whirlwind of thoughts that assaulted him.

Y/N shook her head, a soft smile still playing on his lips. She pulled away slightly, maintaining eye contact with Matt.

"I know this is all very confusing." She began, her voice soft and comforting. "But I'm so happy, Matt. So happy and relieved that you're here."

Matt's confusion deepened even further as he took in her words. He couldn't understand how she could be so serene and happy after everything that happened and what he did with her special date.

The boy felt a weight on his shoulders and an immense desire to look behind his shoulders towards the door, feeling as if someone would open it at any moment and expose them to the public.

"When I sent the invitation." Y/N continued. "I felt scared. Scared that you wouldn't show up, that you would choose not to be here. But deep down, I knew you would come. I knew you wouldn't let me down."

Her words hit the brunette like a wave of comforting heat. He watched her intensely, his racing heart overflowing with love as goosebumps ran through his whole body.

"Don't get me wrong, Victor is an amazing guy, but... Matt, he's not you. He never was. No one will ever be you." She unbuttoned her lace sleeves before rolling them up, ripping off the flower that was attached to the fake belt at her waist and throwing it over her heels.

She really was something.

"Y/N-"

"Run away with me?

Y/N's suggestion left Matt speechless. His body remained static as his eyes stared at her, his orbs filled with shock and disbelief. He never imagined that she could suggest something so radical.

"Matt, please, we have to go. Run away with me."

A smirk slowly grew onto Matt's face before he took her right hand in his, pulling her close tightly and picking her up in one quick movement, his right arm supporting her back and his hand gripping her waist tightly, while his left arm held her legs beneath her knees, pressing her against his body.

A squeal escaped Y/N's throat, who wrapped her arms around his neck and placed her hands on the back of his head tightly, hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder, a loud laughter passing through her lips.

"You're unbelievable, pretty girl... Come on, let's go."

So glad you were around when they said: Speak Now.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My asks are always open. My requests are closed at the moment since I have many to work in, but you can always send questions or simply talk to me 🩷💋

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @bellasfavbisexual @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @thebottledwatersupplier @soso-scarlettolivia @maryx2xx @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

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bunicate · 4 months

Note

Alhaitham making his little sister ride her stuffed toy for him! grinding her pussy on one of her favourites as she whines about how it’s gonna ruin her favourite stuffie!

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ warnings ꒱ྀི incest. infantilization. handjob. brief blowjob. pillow humping ﾉ 18+

“this is so unfair .”

you’d cross your arms if they weren’t currently occupied. reluctantly, one hand knits into the bedsheets to keep yourself in place. the other commits to slow sensual strokes of his cock, timed with the messy ruts of your pussy, defacing the once pale pink bunny.

the innocent stuffed animal with beady eyes, now the color of mulberry from your arousal, was ruined. if you didn’t know your big brother so well, you’d easily miss the subtle flicker of mirth in his blue-green eyes.

“how is it unfair? I'm playing with you just as you asked.”

you narrow your eyes at him, but its merely an undignified expression when the stuffed bunny's hard nose pokes your clit.

“t-this is not — hmmph— what I meant.”

his eyes lower and the side of his lip upturns. it’s not audible, but he’s laughing at you. you’re certain of it, and his cock only hardens in your grasp.

“y’got me ruining mr.cuddles. . .” you grumble.

“I can buy you another.”

a curse dies on the tip of your tongue just as frustration settles from his retort. the last thing you want is to add to your torment. as promising as it could be, al haitham had an immeasurable amount of self-control.

he’d wring your little cunt dry, and you don’t think you could handle much more of his teasing, but god, the poor creature was soiled.

you know how much embarrassing you arouses him and you sure don’t miss the pre-cum that deliciously clumps at the tip of his member. you know it’s at your expense because he throbs within your palm.

his fingers, veiny and all encompassing, cup the back of your head, slightly tugging at the roots of your hair.

it doesn’t hurt, but there’s enough pressure to signal his intolerance of your potential defiance.

“enlighten me. tell me what you meant.”

your head lolls back, staring at the scribe with tears blurring your vision. you thumb his tip and whine when you feel a dollop of his warm seed land on your thigh.

“when you told me you wanted to play, let me guess . . . did you mean on . . . my cock ?”

theres a swirl of something you can only describe as unadulterated desperation at his show of mockery. there’s a sardonic glint as he soaks in how pretty you look jerking him off.

you nod stiffly. “u-uh huh.”

but he only feigns pity.

“that’s too bad, isn’t it ?” he reaches down to grip your backside. he lifts you slightly and sees crystal strings of wetness connecting from your cunt to poor mr.cuddles.

“look at that mess,” the scribe whispers, and that only fuels your need to bury yourself under your sheets.

“this isn’t what you wanted and yet, you’re dripping . . .” he shakes his in farce disappointment, “but nevertheless, let’s problem solve.”

he lets go of you to stop your hand from stroking his leaking member.

he firmly grabs himself, pumping his swollen cock slowly — roughly, until a pretty coat of pre-cum envelops his tip.

he points his throbbing appendage towards your mouth, pressing it towards your quivering lips. he wipes his head messily around the surface until trails of slick begins to glisten.

you physically resist the urge to suck and swallow even when the faint taste of salt drips on your tongue.

there’s a deep hum when you meet his wanton stare.

“would you have more fun if I put my cock in your little mouth instead ?”

you mewl. god, you can smell him. it’s a rich and musky scent mingled with a woodsy vanilla.

your mouth collects spit as he continues to drag his fat tip down the seam of your plump lips.

his cock is just as pretty as the rest of him. it’s wide with an odd number of veins running down his length. it wilts from its own weight despite being so hard.

his eyes glaze over, chuckling before he answers for you, “yeah, of course you would,” he murmurs. “you’d suck it just like how you suck those lollipops.”

al haitham rubs at your scalp, dragging your head so his member slides against the opening of your mouth. by now, you’re panting like needy pup with your tongue lapping up the underside of his cock.

“what if —“ his eyes flicker down to between your thighs, “I put it right here ?”

his fingers skillfully slide past your overstimulated clit to nestle in your little hole. you breathe out a loud sigh of relief when they slowly sink in, stretching your tight walls.

“h-haithy. . .” your mouth parts as meek cries fall from your sweet lips, breath fanning his dick.

“oh, what cute sounds. is this what you want ?”

“mhm. . . I dooooo,” you drawl.

your hand tangles around his wrist. it was a brave action, but he didn’t seem to mind. you were insatiable at this point as you unabashedly hump his thick fingers, chasing your own pleasure.

“I wan’ it, h-haithy. need your cock inside me.”

slick sticks to your thighs and your cunt audibly squeezes around his digits until he suddenly halts his movement.

“what do you do when you want something ?”

you sniffle, “u-use my big girl words.”

al haitham gives you a subtle look of approval.

“precisely.”

he falls silent, giving you a chance to speak but you remain hushed at first. rather, you’d let your actions allow him to draw his own conclusions.

you pull away to position yourself on your back, his fingers slipping out of your warmth.

he watches you closely, anticipating your next move.

your arms come behind your knees, revealing both of your pretty holes. delicate fingers part your puffy folds like pages of his books, displaying the gaping hole he was moments away from fucking.

with pursed lips and gleaming eyes, you ask just like how he taught you.

“big brother . . . can you please make me cum on your cock ?”

your tight pussy clenches around nothing, pushing out a stringy rivulet of creamy white.

there’s a crack in his composure.

al haitham effortlessly pulls his shirt over his head. his strong abdomen on display flexes with every breath he takes. it’s intimidating how stalks towards you, inching towards the bed with purpose.

he’s eager to mount you, his sweet little sister with a perfect ass, and a fat wet cunt he’d milk over and over again.

#૮꒰ ๑´ତ `๑ ꒱ྀིა #tw:incest #srry Im so bad at endings eeeek #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #al haitham x y/n #alhaitham x female reader #alhaitham x reader smut #al haitham x reader smut #al haitham x reader #al haitham x you #alhaitham x reader

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levitiquee · 9 months

Text

"Coffee? This shit's expensive."

You reached for the packet that was sitting on top of the desk, surprised. Coffee was for rich nobles, not for soldiers with meager pay. Levi swatted at your hand.

"Don't touch my shit."

"What?" You took back your hand, pouting at him. "I was just saying."

Levi shot a glare at you, irritated. "Why don't you just shut up and go back to your work? My possessions are none of your business."

You groaned, eyes flicking to the empty papers in front of you that you were supposed to write reports on. "But I've been working for hours. My fingers hurts. Let me take a break."

"Stop being dramatic.

"I'm not being dramatic. You're being dramatic." You mumbled, again reaching for the package. He didn't try to stop you this time. He only glanced, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance, then going back to working. You were stubborn as fuck and he had learnt long ago telling you not to do something only inspired you to do the opposite, specially when you realized it pissed him off.

"Where the heck did you even get this?" You flip the packet, eyes widening at the price. It wasn't just expensive, it was super expensive. Levi sighed.

"Must you be so nosy all the damn time?"

"Yes." You nod, eager to know. You weren't going to let it go until you got answers. You were stubborn that way. And his unwillingness only made you all the more interested.

Or maybe you just loved pissing him off. It was amusing in a way.

Your crude captain barely ever showed emotions, so you'll take what you get. Even if the only emotions he has the capacity to display is annoyance and frustration.

Getting him riled up was perhaps, the highlight of your day. Only source of entertainment ment in the four walls of this boring facility.

What made it all better was, he'd grumble, he'd complain, he'd spew curses under his breath, but he'd still let you stick around. And he'd rather die than admit it, but it made you think that perhaps, he didn't find you as 'unpleasant' as he says he does after all.

"I didn't get it." He responded irritatedly, eyes on the papers.

"Huh?" You tilted your head, not satisfied. "What do you mean? What, this packet just grew legs and started walking and came all the way up over here? Plus, I didn't think you even like coffee. I only ever saw you drink tea–"

"You talk too much."

"Okay but," You ignored his little snide remark. "No, but this is premium quality and you haven't even opened it yet. Why'd you get it of you won't have it?"

"I didn't get it." He repeated. "And I don't like coffee."

"Thought so." You nodded. That's also another reason you were surprised to see the packet. He loathed coffee, you knew. Even though the cheap shit served in the cafeteria was truly repulsive, you would chug it down without hesitation. And the face Levi made every damn time was worth it all. That's how you learnt the bitter captain surprisingly hated the bitter drink.

"So if you're not gonna have it, can I have some? Because I'm falling asleep."

"No. I can't stand the smell of it."

"Of course you don't." You scoffed. "You drink your tea just fine though. In my opinion, that tastes more horrible."

"I didn't bring you here to comment about my drink preferences."

"Volunteering. Because you have shit preferences and someone needs to let you know–"

"Do you ever shut up?"

"No." You grinned. "Where'd you get it captain?"

"If I tell you, will you shut up?" He looked up, exasperated.

You pretended to consider. "Perhaps."

He glared at you.

"Okay I might." You nodded. "No promises, but I might. Go on, tell me."

He stared at you skeptically, weighing his options of either answering your questions so that you'd let it go or smack you in the face with the heavy file. He was seriously considering the latter at this point.

Then he sighed.

"I just know this is gonna make this worse." He muttered. "If you must know, it was a gift."

"A gift?!" Your jaw dropped.

"Captain! Who gifted you something so expensive? Don't tell me you have a secret lo-"

"Get your mind out of the gutter." He snapped, cutting you off before you could say it.

"Okay." You raised your hand in mock surrender. "Okay. No secret lovers got it. Who was it then?"

He pinched his nose bridge closing his eyes. Bracing himself for the shit you were going to give him after what he's going to say next.

"Some random Garrison Regiment Squad leader I think. Captain sova or shiva or something of that sort. Carried some heavy loads for her and then she got all soppy and grateful and wanted to express her thanks, despite my insistence that I despised coffee." He explained, ignoring the change on your expression with every word. Dear walls, he can practically hear the screws turning in your head.

"...no way." You gaped at him.

"How expensive is this shit anyway?" He reached for the packet, curiosity poking him at the genuine disbelief in your face.

"50$?" His eyes widened, brows raising. He had no idea gratitude for helping out was worth that much.

"You're just noticing it now?!" You were absolutely appalled.

"I told you I have no interest towards coffee." He said defensively.

"But– how could you not?"

"Because it's insignificant?"

"It's–" You weren't sure whether you should laugh or cry. "Have you heard of the term, 'curiosity'?"

"I simply don't care. I have way too much in my plate to sit around and observe the price of a coffee package. Have I mentioned that I loathe coffee?"

"Jeez, it was a gift. You could at least pretend to care."

He only raised an eyebrow.

"I mean..you might not have a lot of interest in coffee," You said. "But she sure sounds as if she had much interest in you."

"She? The captain?" Levi furrowed his brows, clueless.

"Yes?!" You were even more confused to see his confused expression. "Who else would I talk about?"

He shook his head. "You're misunderstanding. She was just grateful."

"Grateful because you helped her heave heavy things? So she pays you back with 50$?"

Levi pressed his lips together, considering your words. Now that he thinks about it... no it's just you making the situation more than it is.

" .... How am I to know what she was thinking?" He said finally.

You rolled your eyes. "Well.." You asked after a while. "Did she try to express her gratitude in..any other way?"

"You're not gonna drop this, are you?"

"Are you kidding?"

"Of course you won't, you nosy little shit." He sighed. "She sent me a letter last monday."

You almost fell out of your chair. "You're telling me this now?!" You demanded. "What did she say?" Half of your body was practically on the desk, you were so leaning forward so much in excitement

"You're hopeless." He shook his head at the gleam in your eyes. "Not everything is drama. She only thanked me and asked if she could treat me to dinner some night."

It was how he said that with a straight face that got you. The lack of interest, the blank expressions, it all added up.

You sat back down in silence as you realized that he wasn't really trying to deny anything because he was flustered.

He simply had no fucking idea.

"Captain. Just..how dense are you?" You asked softly, almost in awe. How a man like him could be so clueless you had no idea.

"Watch your mouth, brat."

"No offence meant." You said casually, setting his irritated words aside, too invested to give a fuck. "But did you say yes?"

"To what?"

"The dinner proposal? What else?"

"Of course not." He looked surprised you even considered the idea. "Do you have any idea how busy I am? And it's annoying. She's acting as if I saved her life and now she owes me a life debt."

You internally sent words of sympathy to the unfortunate woman. Girlie couldn't have picked a worse person to flirt with.

"Oh poor her."

"What poor her?"

"Captain. Do you seriously...not realize that she..asked you out..?"

He stared at you for a few seconds, ears growing red. "Bullshit." He muttered.

It took every bit of your effort to hold back the laugher bubbling in you. It was already difficult enough to keep a straight face. He looked so embarrassed it was hilarious.

You wondered how many girls had ever flirted with him like this and he had no fucking idea, probably shook it off thinking they were just being nice. How many hearts has he broken without even realizing it?

"Well, was she pretty at least?"

He shot an incredulous look. "I can't even remember her name, and you think I memorized her face?"

"Huh. Fair enough."

A giggle escaped you despite your hard efforts to hide your amusement. That seemed to have embarrassed him more.

"Don't laugh. There's nothing funny here."

"Oh if only you knew exactly how hilarious it is." You grinned. "I'm like two seconds away from losing it."

"I will hit you if you don't stop laughing."

You pursed your lips, the corner of your mouths still quirking up.

"Captain."

"No." He cut you off. He was tired. He was embarrassed. He was flustered. He had zero desire left to talk with you and he was fully aware nothing that ever comes out of your mouth is pleasant.

But of course you ignored him.

"Have you ever even been on a date?"

He groaned, cursing internally. This is the last thing he wanted to talk about today.

"You have no sense of privacy." He hissed.

"No. I'm serious. Because that seems highly unlikely." You continued, yet again paying no mind to his pissed remarks.

"I'm too busy."

"Nah." You shook your head. "You're too clueless. You wouldn't be able to tell if someone likes you even if they held up a sign with huge red block letters spelling out the words 'I love you!'"

"Stop."

Yeah, you weren't sure how much longer you could hold that laugh back.

"You've never been on a date in this... I don't know, how old even are you– like twenty something years of your life?"

"I'm thirty. And no."

"Holy fuck, you're old." You exclaimed, caught off guard by the information. You knew he was older than you, just didn't think he was in thirties already. He looks so...young.

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"It's not that old. I'm hardly a couple years older than you."

"Still old." You shrugged. "But damn, you're life's as dry as sandpaper."

"You do realize my life revolves around fighting titans? So excuse me if I didn't give romance a chance because I was too busy trying not to die." He mumbled.

You spluttered a cough trying to hide the sound of the laughter choking you. He had looked away when he said the words, but the tips of his ears were so, so red.

Never in your life have you seen him this flustered.

"Can you shut up now and let me work?"

"Aren't you charming?" You raised an eyebrow.

Then you paused.

"Say, captain, let me help you." You suddenly said. You couldn't resist the urge to fuck with him a little more. You'd be damned if you didn't.

"With... what?"

You grinned. "Dating. I could be your official love life assistant."

The reaction was exactly as you thought it'd be. His face was absolutely flushed.

"Fuck off."

"Now, that's just mean." You pretended to be offended. "Tip 1: you don't speak to ladies like that."

He stood up without saying a word, walking around the table and stopping besides you. Then with two fingers, he flicked your forehead. Hard.

"Ouch." You cursed under your breath, rubbing your temple and turning to look at him as he walked towards the door. "What was that for?"

"Youre insufferable." He said as he twisted open the door.

"Why thank you." You mumbled as he slammed the door shut behind him. "You're extremely lovable as well, beloved captain."

Levi leaned against the door, the corners of his mouth twitching up the slightest as he heard your laugher through the door.

Oh, but here's the the thing Levi hadn't told you.

That maybe, maybe, the reason he never even considered the approaches of the admirers, or even sometimes realize their intention wasn't because he was clueless. Maybe it's because he barely ever processes the words or the actions, think about it for a second for the situations to make sense.

That maybe, he had no intention to let anyone new in his life because he already had you. What more could he possibly want?

How could he? Not when you existed in his life, with your stupid face and your stupid voice and your stupid, stupid, stupid laugh.

Maybe, just maybe.

He doesn't notice faces much because yours never leave his mind.

@sad-darksoul

#aot #its kind of weird #just thinking #idk #captain levi #levi fluff #levi ackerman #snk #levi heichou #aot fandom #levi #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #levi x yn #captain levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x reader #levi x you #levi thoughts

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theradiostarr · 10 months

Text

⠀ ‧₊˚✩彡 how they have their way with you ♡

featuring: dazai, chuuya, fyodor

summary: what these bsd boys are like in bed <3

warnings/content: typical kinks (praise, degradation, asphyxiation, overstimulation, orgasm control, pet play?? kind of?? etc.), manipulation on fyodor’s part, gender neutral reader

DAZAI is selfless. you’re his reason for living, his belladonna. he’s calculating and precise, committing every twitch you make, every sound that leaves your saccharine lips to memory. a specific touch makes you squirm underneath him? he’s about to abuse that knowledge until you’re 1. screaming his name in overstimulation or 2. crying and whining for more.

he’s slow. whispering sweet degrading praises into your ear as he nibbles your neck. painting your collarbone with a myriad of purples and blues. he’d giggle at your astounded expression in the morning, claiming he simply couldn’t let such a pretty canvas go untouched.

petnames!! he has a silver tongue, weaving sweet phrases into every dirty sentence. we all know he loves “belladonna” but how about “lovely”, “my dove”, “pretty/handsome”, “sweetheart”

(he’ll also throw in some degrading, using words like my gorgeous slut or lovely whore to really push you over the edge)

he’s touchy. his hands wander your body with such delicate determination it makes you shiver. if your bodies have space to breathe what is the point? he wants to smother you, breathe in your humanity.

speaking of breathing, this man has a thing for asphyxiation and orgasm control. he is talented at torture, after all. he’ll bring you to the edge over and over again, hand wrapped deliciously around your throat where he knows it will send you to heaven.

he will also humiliate you- this man never shuts up. he’d love to watch you ride him until your legs are shaking pathetically, his hands gripping your hips as a hum leaves his throat.

“ah, you’re such a sight, bella. how does it feel? i bet i could make you cum with my words alone, such a pretty thing. don’t stop now, dove, the nights only just beginning~”

CHUUYA is a gentleman. he’d have the whole thing orchestrated to your every need to make sure you feel comfortable and safe. i’m talking flowers, wine (is it really chuuya without an expensive bottle of wine?), and hands that held you with such care it would make you giddy. he’s already lost so much, he couldn’t bare losing you as well.

he’d take his time. sometimes it would feel cruel just how long he’d take appreciating every part of your body, kissing down your nape, gripping your hips, licking a stripe down your chest, opening you up slowly just to hear all the lovely sounds you’d make. he’d prefer to be on top, catering to your every need, but if you want to ride him- like hell he’s saying no. to see his love bouncing on his cock, milking their own pleasure? he could watch you for hours. and when you come undone, he’ll be right there to catch you.

he loves seeing you in his choker, nothing else on your naked body. he gets off on the visual reminder that you are his. he would also rush to buy you many matching lingerie sets to pair it with- he is a man of taste after all. and how can he not when you look so ravishing?

and oh, the praise. he wants you to know how good you’re doing, how good you make him feel. he isn’t scared to be vocal, cursing at how well you take him, how every thrust makes your body jerk beneath him.

but he is a man with a short temper. he’d never dare raise a hand to you, but if you know the right things to say, boy you can get him going.

if you’re feeling bold, tug on his choker, grab his hair, bite his lip. he’ll scoff with a smirk, rolling his hips into yours, testing you to keep talking.

“oh yeah? i wonder how long you can keep talking, doll. you take me so well, let’s see how much more you can take before you’re sobbing on my cock.”

FYODOR is cruel. if you’re expecting this man to be sweet and accomodating, think again. i personally don’t think he’d have any interest in sex, he’d view the act as impure and a waste of time. however, if you amuse him, that’s a different story.

if he’s intrigued by you; your expressions, your mannerisms, your tone of voice, then it’s only fair he will want to see more. this man doesn’t think with his dick, much like dazai, he will uncover your weaknesses and exploit them.

he will restrict your movement, wringing noises out of you he can only akin to a masterpiece. holding your hands above your head he will force you to sing a melody rivalling his violin.

you are like a pet to him, he will stroke your hair softly before gripping it firmly. reminding you of your place. he’d smile deviously as his fingers pump in and out of you, reaching places you didn’t even know existed.

textbook manipulation. he’ll use sweet words to gaslight you and then fuck you hard into your sheets until all you can remember is him. you are like a bird inside a cage and unlike the clown Nikolai, you have no desire to be freed.

but be careful, the second you begin to bore him, or when he no longer needs you, he will discard you like the rest of his pawns. and really, did you truly believe he cared about you?

he will not be there when you wake up, but you will keep going back to him because that’s how he’s trained you.

“i taught you better than that, myshka. what happens to bad pets when they don’t do as they’re told? hm? on your knees, i think you need a reminder, darling….”

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd smut #dazai x y/n #dazai x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x reader #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x reader #bsd x reader #smut #smut headcanons

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saiidahyunie · 2 months

Text

i wonder everything about us

minatozaki sana x f!reader || last part from ballroom extravaganza and pt.1

synopsis: your composure is starting to break, and it lands you in front of the very person that started it all.

warnings: fluff ; angst ; cursing ; alcohol ; arguing ; reader is a dumbass/conflicted ; misscommunication ; 127 doyoung and g-idle miyeon appear! ; dahyun, minju, and somi also have a small cameo ; tzushu and seuirene ship ; almost cheating sorta? ; kinda proofread

a/n: wrapping up the sha rich story here. enjoy! :)

there’s been more situations worse than this one. break the eggs and someone’s gotta make the omelet.

“who was that?”

you’re sitting on the couch while mina paces in front of you, arms crossed over with your chest in a self-soothing gesture. sana was sent back to your room, but you can’t help but wish that she was right here and next to you—it would make you feel braver than she was.

“well?” mina demands. “who?”

“my…she’s my girlfriend.” the lie you just spat tastes like ash in your mouth.

“she’s older.”

“not by much,” you protest. “only eight years.”

“eight—? y/n, you’re almost twenty-two. what are you doing with a woman nearly in her thirties?”

“i’m turning twenty-three in a month or so. don’t insult me.”

“i just don’t know what a twenty-nine year old woman would want with a college kid.”

“kid?” you scoff. “geez, that’s so rich coming from you. how old is your business associate again?”

“this isn’t about me, smartass. it’s about you getting involved with someone whose intentions are a big fat question mark!”

“so what?! why would it matter if i’m graduating next semester with my life ahead of me. stop treating me like how auntie was with you!”

mina stares at you, silently, and her lack of reaction only serves to piss you off even more. so you keep going:

“and sana doesn’t have any shitty intentions with me! she’s my—my girlfriend and she’s good to me! she treats me well and she likes me. she texts me everyday and she comes over all the time and—!”

“does she help with expenses?”

you’re stopped dead in your tracks. “what?”

“does she give you money? you haven’t complained about finances recently.”

“i never complain about fiances, mina.”

“i know, but i can always tell when you’re stressed about them and you haven’t been. so let me ask again: does sana give you money?”

“i—” you stammer with the words. you can see the deeper question in mina’s eyes, probing you. forcing you to be truthful. “she…”

“i think if you’re gonna ask y/n about her finances, it’s probably safest to talk to me.”

the both of you whirl around to look at sana. she has her arms folded, foot bent as she leans against the wall. her expression is polite but her gaze is flat, angry. the simultaneous relief and anxiety that swells within you is strong enough to make you unsteady, and you’re grasping at the arm of the couch.

mina, fortunately, is ignorant to this.

“what did you say?”

“i said if you’re asking about whether i give your cousin any money, your best bet is to come directly to me instead of interrogating her.”

“you’ve got a lot of nerve to say that shit to me when this was happening behind my back.”

sana just shrugs. “i just don’t appreciate what you’re implying.”

“and what exactly am i implying?”

“that i have shady intentions towards y/n, which i don’t.”

your heart in chest thuds, staring down at your trembling fingers, clenching them over your lap. mina’s eyes flicker towards sana’s richard mille. “that’s a nice watch. you make money?”

“mina.” you hiss.

“i make a comfortable living.”

mina scoffs and rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath. “rich people bullshit,” you can faintly hear her say. sana doesn’t reply, face remaining placid. her and mina have a loaded exchange of looks, before your cousin falters, gaze flickering to you.

“you want dinner?” mina inquires.

you blink. “i’m…why?”

“answer the question.”

“i guess im hungry?”

“wonderful.” mina snaps her stare back to sana, voice hard. “what about you?”

sana’s tone is emotionless. “i could eat something.”

“great,” mina says, zipping up her puffer. “let’s go get some thanksgiving dinner then.”

—

you all pack into mina’s car to drive to some restaurant of her choosing, the silence tense enough to cut. when she parks alongside the street, she orders you out of the car, telling to secure a table.

stumbling out, your characteristic grace rendered to nothing due to your anxiety. you step inside the small, hole-in-the-wall pizza restaurant, and ask the hose for a three person table booth. seeing that sana and your cousin aren’t behind you, you allow the host to lead to the table that’s in a corner to the far end of the entrance. after three excruciating minutes, you see the pair walk inside. sana’s expression is blank, and mina’s is unreadable. this does absolutely nothing to calm your nerves.

they sit down, mina across from you and sana at your side. she places her warm hand over your trembling knee, thumb stroking your skin to calm you, grasping it, intertwining fingers. sana squeezes back for comfort.

“so,” you begin shakily. “um—”

“you lied to me,” mina interrupts firmly, eyes hard, reducing you to a feeble child. it angers you. “why did you lie to me?”

“because i knew you would do this. because i knew you were gonna say something about it to auntie sometime later.”

“about what?”

“my decisions. my life. the way i choose to live my life. it’s why you do shit like this.”

mina narrows her eyes, offended. “care to elaborate more?”

“come here under the guise of checking up on me. interrogate me.”

“i only came because i knew you were lying to me.”

“and i lied because i know how controlling you are just like auntie!”

mina’s expression sours. “i’m not controlling like her.”

“yes, you are.” you snap. “you’re either controlling or completely detached. you either forget to call me for two months because you’re busy or you do random check-ins with me everyday for a week. i’m twenty-two years old and you still treat me like this only because auntie’s health hasn’t been well.”

“i don’t have any other choice.” she says tightly. “i don’t know how much auntie has left with time, but—” mina catches herself off, jaw clenching, and looks away from you. you and sana. “we may not be related by blood, but i still consider you my family. i’m sorry if i came off as cold or unmoving, but you’re all i have left.”

sana shifts beside you. “maybe i should—”

“no, it’s fine.” mina says, and glances back up. brown eyes meet yours, a mirror image. “i was just about to leave anyway.”

“what?” you gasp out.

“you shouldn’t.” sana interjects.

mina waves a dismissive hand. “i’ve said everything i wanted to say. to both of you.”

“don’t go if you’re gonna regret it later, mina,” sana warns. mina barks a laugh, tightening her jacket. “if you wanna be apart of our family, sana, learn the way we operate. y.n and i don’t carry regrets.”

she pointedly glances at you and you respond with shaking your head, mouthing a silent no. without any further ceremony, mina shoulders her handbag, moving to step forward. however, she hesitates and looks back at you, stopping in place.

“if you want me to be convinced you can hold out on your one, then act like it. stop giving so much of a shit about what i have to say. i spout just as much crap as everyone else. it’s up to you if you want to ignore me if you want.”

speechless, your mouth is parted, but mina was already on her way out of the restaurant by the time you can think of any words. when you see the black streak of her car driving way, you sigh, burying your face in your hands.

“i’m such a bitch.”

“don’t talk about yourself like that,” sana says, voice firm but touch soft, stroking down the line of your back. “she told me in the car she was gonna leave.”

“why?”

“same reason she just gave just now. she said everything she wanted to say to both of us.”

“and what did she say to you?”

“a better question is what i did say to her.”

you can’t help with the rush of cold fear that grips you. “what did you say?”

“what i felt about you. what you are to me.”

and it’s not the truth because it can’t be the truth—mina would’ve throttled sana otherwise—but the tenderness in her voice implores you to look up from your hands at her, to believe her. she reaches over to brush your hair out of your face, eyes sweet like liquid candy, mouth curling to smile. you crumble, falling into her.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry you had to put up with that.”

“it’s fine, sweetheart.”

“no, it’s not. it’s awful and it’s unhealthy and i’m dumping my baggage onto you.”

“i don’t care. i want to know everything about you.” you flush, and sana adds, “also, if you think that’s bad you should meet my family. i’ve grown up with struggles of not being up to par with my relatives and being the laughing stock because of my lack of success. it’s half the reason i’m calling out of thanksgiving tomorrow. that and the fact that i’m working.”

“what?” you gasp, sitting up. “you’re working tomorrow?”

sana toys with a lock of your hair. “people get injured everyday unfortunately.”

“we should do something.”

“you don’t want to eat here?”

“i get one dollar pizza with irene at least once a week. we should do something special.”

a grin cracks sana’s face in half, radiant. “what if i made us dinner?”

“you can cook?”

“of course i can. i even have a special bacon mac and cheese recipe.”

“but i don’t have bacon.”

“we can take the subway to the grocery store and then take it back to your house when i can cook. c’mon, it’ll be fun.”

you bite your lip to suppress a smile. sana kisses it free. when she pulls back, you lean into her palm, lashes fluttering against the skin of it.

“okay, you lead the way then.”

—

grocery shopping with sana is efficient.

she doesn’t linger in aisles to windowshop. sana simply grabs what she wants and goes, one hand gripping a pack of bacon and a box of mac and cheese, the other hand clasped with your own. they’re in and out within five minutes.

the subway ride is almost as quick but fun, which is a strange thing to have on the g-train but it’s true. sana crowds you against the pole, shielding you from the other passengers as she whispers her judgment of them in your ears, speculating that the married couple standing across from them is miserable, will always be miserable, because they can’t ever feel what you and sana do.

the game is mean-spirited, you know, but sana’s ridiculousness makes you laugh. makes your stomach bubbly and your body light, fizzy like you’re made of crisp champagne. as sana kisses the curve of your ear, you think that you quite like the idea of being in on an inside joke with her.

you’re stumbling into the apartment within the hour, teeth chattering from the cold. sana removes your coat and scarf, hanging them on your rack before taking the grocery bag and hurrying into the kitchen. she looks excited, her lips spread wide in a near-permanent grin. you settle onto one of the high chairs, watching sana waltz around your kitchen like it’s familiar to her. it must be at this point.

“so. bacon mac and cheese.”

“a family recipe,” sana says, pulling a pot from the bottom cabinet. “my grandma used to make it for my mom when she was a kid. growing up pretty poor so she says this was basically a delicacy to her.”

“i can relate. when i was little, my favorite thing to eat was those cup ramen noodles that mina and auntie used to throw bits of beef and chicken in.”

“cup ramen is always good.”

sana fills the pot with water, placing it over the stove top and setting the heat on high. she then walks to your fridge to pull out a bottle of prosecco. “this is fancy.”

“hardly,” you snort. “i got it for fifteen bucks.”

“all wine target the same whether it’s five or fifty dollars. take it from someone who drinks the fancy shit at parties,” sana says, popping the cork off. she grabs two glasses and files them halfway before passing one to you.

sana raises it. “cheers.”

“happy thanksgiving.”

so you and sana drink. relishing in the sweet, crisp burn of the prosecco as it goes down, the alcohol warming you instantly. sana’s eyes on you are equally warm and dangerously fond. you take another sip to swallow down the mutinous rise of hope.

soon enough, the water starts boiling and sana pours the macaroni in, stirring it. you like it. you like the look of sana in your kitchen, her ease. the domesticity implied. you basically want to sink into it.

you get off your chair to slowly approach sana from behind, sliding your arms around her middle and leaning your cheek against the curve of her shoulder. sana leans into you, and you rise up to your toes, pressing lips to her cheek, kissing sana softly. when she sighs, head tilting down, you kiss sana again. again and again. wanting a tattoo of your affection to be left behind.

dropping back to your heels, and sana’s gaze finds yours, soft as silk. she curls her hand into your hair and brings you close, mouth against your forehead, nose in your hairline, breathing in.

“go sit down,” sana murmurs. “finish your drink.”

you step away from sana, chest hollow like you’re leaving something behind.

—

sana feeds you bites of mac and cheese that tastes a bit burnt.

“a capricorn mars?” sana asks, lips around the same fork. she dips it back into the bowl to fish for more macaroni. “what the fuck is that?!”

“okay so, everyone has planet placements—asteroids too but that’s more specific—and each of the planets has a specific meaning. i already explained that your sun sign—”

“capricorn.”

“capricorn, right—was the core of your personality. your moon sign is your private face, or your emotional center. mercury is communication. venus is romance and aesthetics—which might be an additional for you. and mars is aggression and sexuality.”

“and mine is in capricorn?”

“yeah, and capricorn is the domicile of mars.”

“it means that capricorn and virgo are already ruled by mars. the placement feels natural.”

“ah.” sana’s arms tighten around you, setting you higher up on her lap. “so that means i’m naturally aggressive and sexual?”

“no,” you laugh. “it means that it’s just an easier fit. that there isn’t any friction between the planet and sign. like, capricorns are very expressive in their confidence and humility. grounded with their words and they don’t sugarcoat what they say, they mean it.” you say, tapping sana’s chin, tugging on it with your thumb. “and they do it straightforwardly. mars suits it.”

sana nips at your thumb. “like you aren’t.”

“i’m a gemini,” you say. “a dynamic sign. two sides to show to the world.”

sana grins, and you move your hand up pushing her hair back. “how do you know all this stuff anyway?”

“i had a light…astrology phase in high school.”

“astrology?”

“yeah. my stuff might be off, but that’s to the best of my memory. but i dabbled with oujia birds. summoning, that kind of shit.”

“summoning?”

“i never actually summoned anything,” you mutter, flashing. “none of the spells worked.”

sana laughs, which earns your glare. you shiver when she reaches up and traces the curve of your ear.

“this explains the bit of eye bags to sell the dark look i’m getting out here.”

“pfft,” you stifle a laugh, turning your head off to the side. “the eye bags were from an insomnia phase i had during my first year of college. i didn’t know how to function at times, and my roommate was genuinely concerned when i brought up my terrible last two years of high school. i think i might’ve scared her.”

“really?”

“that’s another story for later, but let’s just say that it wasn’t pretty if you saw me like that.”

“wow,” sana says, impressed with your growth and resilience. “i was totally normal during high school.”

“i see and believe that.”

the only warning before sana flips you over and pins you on the couch is a flash of teeth, a mean smile. you cry, “the macaroni!” but sana already has it safely on the ground, her other hand moving to tickle your ribs. you’re shrieking, jerking in her hold.

“don’t!”

“what?” sana asks, laying over you, fingers sliding up your waist. “you’re ticklish?”

“no.”

“i think you are.”

��i’ll kick you.”

“no, you won’t,” sana says, but traps your thighs between her knees anyway. she lowers her head, mouth warm against your neck. “you’re too sweet.”

“sana—”

she offers you no mercy. with a simple crook of her fingers, she’s tickling you, trapping you against teh couch as you squirm and giggle beneath her. sana’s hands dip past your shirt to find your bare skin, relentless. while you writhe, sana shoves her face into your neck and hums.

“y-you’re–sana, you’re gonna kill me!”

“no, i’m not.”

“i can’t—” you erput into another laughing fit, tears in your eyes. “i can’t breathe!”

“you’re such a baby,” sana says, but slides her hands away to rest them on either side of your head. once you’ve recovered, you wrap your arms around sana’s neck and secure her to you. sana kisses the ridge of your jaw, sinking into you with a deep exhale. as if expelling a weight inside you.

“do you want to watch a movie?” you ask, fingers toying with the ends of her hair.

“sure. something nice.”

“like what? a rom-com?”

“yeah. i like those.”

you laugh. “do you really? i was expecting you to be more of a different answer than that.”

“were you expecting action movies?”

“but you prefer romance?”

“if they’re good.” when you look at sana disbelievingly, defensiveness enters her tone. “what?”

“i don’t know. a lot of people didn’t like them because it set unrealistic standards. or, at least that’s what my ex said.”

“well, your ex was a fucking idiot,” sana says heatedly. “there’s nothing unrealistic about it.”

there’s nothing unrealistic about grand, sweeping gestures and spotanoeulsy confessing your undying love in the middle of an airport?”

sana raises her head from your chest to look at you. “not unless if you’re a coward.”

you snort, a slow start to what would eventually become a full belly laugh. sana’s expression sours with every giggle, but when you throw your head back and knock it against the arm of the couch, sana reaches out to cradle it. while you recover, sana chooses a move, fingers soothing the bump.

—

by the time the credits of the second movie roll, sana rises from her position on your chest to sit up. she rubs her palms over her face, yawning.

“i have to go,” sana says with some regret, her eyes half-lidded. “i have work in the morning.”

you want to protest but feel ridiculously for it, childishly selfish. instead, you give sana a tight smile and follow her to the door, grabbing her coat from the rack to help her in it. you then take her scarf, pretty purple and wooly in your hands, holding out to her. sana smiles and drapes it over her neck. the open door behind her lets in an icy chill, and she binds you against her, broad palms cupping your face.

you love sana’s eyes. it strikes you suddenly as she tugs you closer, dazzling brown swallowing your vision. you wish the whole world could be that color. it could be that beautiful.

“i’ll call you tomorrow,” sana says.

your voice is soft, too small in your throat. “okay.”

sana smiles and ducks down to kiss you, lips warm and sweet and awfully chaste. you surge closer to meet her, trying to deepen it, but she doesn’t let you. she simply pecks the swell of your bottom lip again and leans back to look at you. the overwhelming affection on her face sends a bolt through you, sends a shiver up your spine that she mistakes for chill. concern flares in her eyes as she takes the scarf from her neck.

“are you cold?” sana asks, already pulling it off, settling it over your shoulders. “is it because the door is open?”

“i—” you can’t speak over the wool that covers your mouth. sana sloppily wraps it around you, her own body heat bleeding into you, nestling sweetly like hot chocolate beneath your skin. after she’s thrown the tail over your head, she tucks the scarf under your chin and asks, “is that better?”

“yes,” you manage to croak out.

sana smiles again and kisses you for the last time. when she steps back, the distance hurts. “i’ll see you later.”

“see you soon,” you whisper out to her, hand lingering out. the last thing you see before sana locks the door behind her is her smile.

it almost hurts not to follow.

—

“y/n!”

you pause, just steps outside of the auditorium. turning to see doyoung, your thesis editor and a TA for the psychology and ethics class. you smile as he approaches you, adjusting your coat against the chill. “hi.”

“hey,” doyoung says, grinning. “you just watched the lecture, right?”

“yeah. it was great. i didn’t know you were gonna attend.”

“i didn’t know you would attend either,” he says. “if i did, i would’ve asked if you wanted to sit together.”

smiling, close-mouthed, unsure of how to respond to that. doyoung barrels on before you can settle on anything. “do you want to meet her?”

“who? the lecturer?”

“mrs. cho, yeah.”

suspended in time for a second, you blink. “you know her?”

“yeah! i was one of her research assistants about a year and a half ago. she’s great. do you wanna meet her?”

“uh—sure, i would love to,” you say, a bit mystified, trailing after him when he starts to walk back into the auditorium.

doyoung leads you towards the stage where a woman who appeared to be around your height stands, chatting amiably with one of your professors. when doyoung calls her name, she looks over to you, sending a broad grin.

“kim doyoung?” she asks. is that you?”

“yes, ma’am,” he says, climbing onto the stage, reaching back to help you up. “it’s really nice to see you again.”

“it’s great to see you! how are things?”

“great!”

“and you’re almost done right? got not long now before you’ll be on the way out into the real world.”

“yeah, i’ve got most of the things done before applying for graduation. i even do some editing for other students on the side. speaking of.” doyoung reaches back, setting his hand on your back to gesture you forward. “this is one of the students i edit for.”

mrs. cho shifts her attention towards you. noticing how remarkably pretty she was up close compared to sitting a few rows back. she has bright red hair that was noticeable from far, fair skin with rosy cheeks that encapsulate a bubbly personality when she spoke to the class. for some reason her laugh and mannerisms were similar to a familiar person. you couldn’t put your thumb to it, but the fact that her occupation was also in the medical field should’ve sent the alarms ringing.

“and who this might be?” she asks.

“y/n l/n. she’s a bachelors student in the pipeline for the masters program.”

“y/n–” her eyes shot up. you’re startled by the intense reaction of you, the way her jaw drops like the two biggest dots were just connected. “y/n l/n? are you actually y/n l/n?”

“uh.” you’re glancing at doyoung who seems confused as you were. “y-yes, that’s me.”

mrs. cho covers her mouth with both of her hands, hiding her smile. “my goodness that’s amazing! do you know sana?”

“sana?” your heart swells, stomach sinking as the realization slaps across you ten-fold. how could’ve you been so blind? one of sana’s closest friends, miyeon. miyeon. sana’s shown the pictures of her on that one hangout they had when they were in medschool, dressing up like boys with dad hats backwards and nerdy glasses that looked surprisingly cute and wished sana looked like that for you.

“no way.” you breathe out.

“oh my god!” miyeon echoes. “this is crazy!”

“who is sana?” doyoung asks, reminding you abruptly of his presence.

“my best friend,” miyeon eagerly replies, gaze unwaveringly on her face. “this is incredible.”

“you know me? or at least about me?” you ask, reeling. “sana…she’s told you about me?”

“of course she has! she talks about you all the time. she even mentioned that you were a psychology student, but i didn’t know that you studied at this university.”

your lips quick. “what a small world.”

“it definitely is. so tell me more about your degree. sana said that it had something to do with kids?”

“well, yeah. i’m studying child’s psychology with a cognitive-behavioral focus. doyoung’s helping me with my thesis right now actually.”

well, you might’ve just embarrassed yourself. doyoung already mentioned that to her.

“interesting, but cognitive-behavioral?” miyeon playfully raises her brows. “what are you doing attending the lecture of an exponential researcher?”

“i find it to broaden my avenues, besides being well-rounded.”

miyeon laughs, delighted. “that it does, my dear. sana said that you were bright in studies.”

your cheeks flush, the natural instinct to ask for what else, what else has she said, forming. that is, until doyoung says, “sorry. i’m a little lost. how do you know sana, y/n?”

speechless for a moment, you’re transported back to the soft golden lights and the shine of her oxford shoes, the taste of lemon drop martinis on your tongue. the four seasons and five hundred dollars in your purse, completely unexplainable much like sana is, because there are no words to describe her.

there are, however, words to describe you.

“y/n,” miyeon says, leaning forward to take your chin on her fingers, startling you. “is the greatest gift sana ever had the pleasure of finding.”

and all at once your excitement dashes into nothing, letting dread sink into you, curling around your body like a vice, tigeting around your neck. suddenly, miyeon’s enthusiasm takes a different meaning, another shape. it’s not friendly but sordid. not curious but propositional. maybe, it might’ve been, if sana ever offered to share.

it’s the thought that makes your heart crack open. just a few days ago, she was in your house, laying over you, kissing you with enough affection that you could drown in it. you thought—you’re not even entirely sure why anymore but you thought—it was real. it could’ve been real. the hope was there.

“wow,” doyoung says, laughing awkwardly, but the sound barely registers over the roaring din in your ear canals. “i didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

she’s not my fucking girlfriend, you’re saying to yourself visioulxy, spiterully. with sorrow. sana’s not your fucking girlfirned and she never was. you were just her gift. a thing to fuck around with.

“i’m sorry,” you say, blinking fast, speaking through the lump in your throat. “i really have to go.”

“oh.” miyeon looks genuinely disappointed, but you can’t be sure. perhaps it’s because she was hoping you’d offer a more nicer regard than what just transpired now. you wonder about the stories sana’s told, if she’s shown miyeon your pictures. “well, it was nice meeting you. i hope we’ll see each other again.”

you nod once, a jerky motion, and a spin of the heel to race out of the auditorium. by the time you reach to the chill outdoors, you’re crying, hot tears streaming down your face, heartbreak nearly forcing you to the knees.

wiping them away roughly, shame makes you red-faced. once you tended to the other cheek, fingers tugging the scarf around your neck, it feels like a collar to a degree–and you’re choking on another sob.

a terrible tragedy it seems, to be owned.

—

avoiding contact, you’re fielding sana’s calls for the next week or so.

you can’t claim that you don’t mean to because you do. every text asking is everything okay? something wrong? gets a yes, of course. every text asking are you okay, are you mad at me? gets a no. no, of course not. why would i be?

how amusing that you have a chock-full of little excuse, but the end result still stands: you don’t want to talk to sana.

this also means that you're miserable.

the tried-and-true method of compartmentalizing your feelings ceases to work when your sorrow over sana bleeds into everything. you can’t focus enough to do your assignments, be mindful enough to smile at work, to write when doyoung says that you should. to eat, even, because it’s hard to stomach anything when you’re angry at her and it’s hard to exist and not speak to her. over the course of three months, sana’s embedded herself into every facet of your life. function without her now is like forgetting how to breathe.

you could say that you’re taking the misery right on the chin, pushing through it like the grown woman you’ve claimed to be, at least proficient enough to hid from everyone else not involved. tzuyu notices this, she notices everything, and she makes it her mission to know about everything.

which is why you’re not surprised when she randomly bursts into your room on a saturday night, phone still buzzing from when she tried to call you.

“get up!” tzuyu snaps, marching over to yank your covers off; you’re curling over the pillow. “come on, get up! you’ve been ignoring my calls for, like, a week and i’m sick and tired of your wallowing.”

voice muffled into the sheets. “‘m not wallowing.”

“yes, you are,” she says and throws open your blinds, exposing the stained brickwall on the other side. “irene told me you didn’t go to class with her this week, which i know means that you were holed up in here crying or something. which, i might add, you never informed me of, so not only are you sad but you’re keeping secrets from me. bad friend behavior, y/n.”

“it’s not bad friend behavior. i just didn’t feel like talking about it.”

“well if you’re not gonna talk about it, you’re gonna do something else.” you hear your closet doors open and perch your head up to see tzuyu rifling through your clothes. after a moment, she makes some pleased sound and toesses a white dress onto your boed, one that sana had bought you a few weeks ago. the memory is blanched just by looking.

“we’re going out tonight,” tzuyu announces. “i have shuhua waiting in the car and i made plans to meet up with irene and a few friends of mine at a club in manhattan. i’m not leaving till you get dressed.”

“i’m not going.”

“yes, you are.”

“no.”

“you are.”

“tzuyu,” you say, with a note of pleading. “i really don’t want to go.”

“and i don’t care! you’re going.”

“no,” you repeat firmly, drawing your knees up to cocoon yourself. “i don’t want to go. i don’t want to drink or go to manhattan—”

“does sana live in manhattan?

“i don’t want to talk about sana.”

“well, it seems like you don’t wanna do fucking anything!” tzuyu throws her hands up, lovely face twisted up with exasperation. she nudges the dress closer. “and like i said, i really don’t care. if you’re not gonna talk about your feelings then do something equally as unproductive and distract yourself from them instead of crying. you’re being ridiculous.”

“no, you are,” you retort acidically, and it seems as though your outrage needed an outlet, because you can’t stop yourself from spitting the vitriol that spills forth. “and you know what? you are ridiculous. in general, you are fucking ridiculous. you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth and you act like it. me signing up for that stupid app was your idea. me meeting sana was because of you. and sana—” calling me her gift, reducing me to something that’s owned, tainting the concept of belonging— “i-it’s your fault. everything is your fault. it’s your fucking fault!”

tzuyu’s face is unchanged, perfect and placid as it always is. finally, while you heave, restraining another fit of tears, tzuyu exhales deeply and tilts her head, expression softening. “are you good now?”

“no,” you mumble. “i’m angry.”

“good.” tzuyu sits down on the edge of your bed and tugs you close, resting your head on her shoulder. “be angry with me. just don’t hole yourself up in your room alone. you’ve done enough of that.”

you sag into tzuyu. “i’m sorry for yelling at you. what happened isn’t your fault.”

“it kind of is.”

“no, it isn't. maybe giving the idea was, but everything i did was because it was a choice i mad. even being hurt now is my fault. i always knew what i was to her.”

“so? it’s kind of difficult to have sex with anything for three months and not get attached to it. i get weepy when i have to throw away my vibrators.”

you snort, pushing tzuyu away. met with a smile of hers with your own, “are you ready to go out now or do i actually have to respect your wishes this time.”

debating, eyes flicking to the dress by your foot. you know how it looks on you, how the fabric shimmers under a certain light and the fit clings to your body. you know it’s effect on sana, even, how her eyes darkend when she first saw it on you, how she raced to get it off. the faded memory stings as the thought of sana always does now, like a sharpened blade, but tzuyu is right. it isn’t healthy to sustain this level of feeling for days on end. maybe it needs a change of pace.

“fine,” you say, looking at tzuyu. “help me get ready.”

tzuyu squeals before grabbing your face to let her kiss your cheek.

—

you and tzuyu greet shuhua by the car just half an hour later, who rolls down the window to wolf-whistle you as they approach. tzuyu opens her coat and grabs you by the hand to spin you around.

“you look hot!” shuhua says. “i’ll be surprised if you don’t go home with somebody tonight.”

cheeks flushing after the compliment. “oh, uh, i’m not really—”

“honey, don’t scandalize y/n so early in the evening,” tzuyu says, popping a kiss to her mouth as she gets in the car. “you know y/n doesn’t talk about ex–say in polite company.”

“since when am i polite company?”

“hi, shua,” you mumble, sliding into the backseat.

“hey, babe. are you excited?” shuhua turs around. both her and tzuyu stare at you expectantly from the front seats, making you feel strangely like a child on their first day of school.

“...yes…”

tzuyu sends shuhua a firm look. “start the car.”

it’s saturday night, the drive from queens to manhattan takes about forty minutes. you’re spending the majority of the ride staring out the window, willing yourself not to think of the familiar surroundings, of the shops along the street that have developed new meaning. luckily, before you can get lost in your budding melancholy, shuhua parks the car along the side of the street and unlocks the door. with a sigh, you step out.

there’s a long line leading into the club that tzuyu bypasses with ease, simply flashing her ID at the bouncer before he allows you three inside. the club is ritzy but stereotypical. brith, multicolored flashing lights threaten to blind you and the pumping music that makes your ears ring. hand in hand, tzuyu directs through the throng of gyrating bodies to a VIP lounge near the back, where you can see a round table filled with people.

irene notices you first, and she jumps out of her seat to rush toward you, bee-lining for you specifically, enveloping a hug that you gratefully sink into.

“you look so pretty!” irene yells when she steps back. “i was worried you wouldn’t come!”

“i did!”

“thank god! come say hi to everybody!”

following her to the table. irene slides back into the booth to nestle beneath the arm of a handsome black-haired man that you recognize immediately, much to your delight. “seulgi!”

she cracks a smile. “sup.”

“i didn’t know you’d be here.” or really, that their relationship had progressed so well. perhaps you might have if you kept in touch more proactively, which suddenly makes you feel like a very shitty friend.

“how are you?” you ask, sitting down next to the pair.

“i’m good. you?”

“i’m…well.”

“uh-oh.” seulgi pushes a drink towards you. “be grateful i can’t cut you off tonight then.”

not thinking of a reply, uncomfortable at having been perceived so clearly, you raise the straw to your lips.

“hey tzuyu! we’re here!”

the three of you look over to see three people ambling towards you, a shorter woman in front, two slightly taller behind her. up close, you can see that she has dark, long hair. she’s wearing a black leather jacket with a handbag to her side. when she catches your eye, she smiles.

tzuyu leaps up from her seat to hug the woman, extricating herself quickly to hug the other two women tagging behind. her voice is a squeal when she screams, “dahyun!”

gesturing to them to sit down next to her, and as they all scoot into the booth, dahyun’s attention flickers towards you, down to your dress.

“y/n! y/n, this is my friend dahyun! she has a brother that works on the same racing team as him!”

“hey.” dahyun says, leaning forward, extending her hand, and you shake it. when you pull away, she wraps her arm around the brunette beside her.

“this is minju,” dahyun says, and points to the blonde at the end of the booth. “and that’s somi.”

“it’s nice to meet you all,” you say.

“it’s great to meet you. you’re y/n, right?”

“yeah.”

“cool!” dahyun’s mouth curls, more a smirk than a smile. “tzuyu has told me all about you.”

“has she?”

“yep. she thinks you’ve hung the fucking moon or something. is it true you volunteered at a women’s shelter for fun?”

you blush at the question. “i wouldn’t say for fun. i just…got along with the kids there really well.”

“a saint is what you are, according to tzuyu.”

“oh, i wouldn’t—”

dahyun surprises you when she stands up and slides over chaeyoung and somi to sit next to you, smelling the rich perfume she put on. your fingers bunch up the dress when she throws her arm over the back of your seat.

“so,” dahyuns starts again, sinking into the vinyl seat, too comfortable. “what else do you do aside from rescuing cats from trees?”

“i’m not a firefighter. never done anything like that.”

“it was a joke, lovely.” your flush depends, and dahyun adds, “but i’m serious. what do you do?”

“i’m a waitress currently, but i’m working towards my bachelors in child’s psychology. masters after, but i’m sure you knew that already.”

“yep.”

“and you?” you ask, taking a sip of your drink, beer bottle sweating around your fingers. “tzuyu mentioned you work with your mom?”

“yeah, just a normal front-desk job. pretty nice until all of the calls get backed up.”

“yikes. sorry to hear that.”

dahyun’s mouth quirks, and you swallow a squeak when she reaches over to ruffle your hair, startled by her familiarity. she keeps her hand there.

“you’re sweet, you know that?”

your face is burning red hot, stomach churning. you can’t think of anything to say but get off. “um—”

“but fuck the job conversation,” dahyun says, leaning closer to you, eyes flashing with mischief. “you wanna get fucked up?”

—

to your better judgement—along with the credit, this is something that you don’t really do on a weekend basis—getting fucked up.

it takes a few beers and sojus to get loose enough to smile freely. you’ve lost the count from five shots onwards to keep you laughing, swimmy. dahyun leads you to the bar to take more shots together—your idea—that’s immediately chased down with lime juice, shoved into your mouth by dahyun’s fingers. the burst of citrus in your mouth.

there’s no food to sober up with, so you decide to get that stored energy on the dance floor, sweating profusely. you switch between the different groups—first spinning around in a mid circle with shuhua and tzuyu, then joining irene and seulgi as they move together. you’re being dragged in between, irene laughing against your neck, head being thrown back into seulgi’s shoulder, the light’s over-bright above you, a shimmering multicolor. you’re laughing, and laughing, and laughing, even when a flash of green against the ceiling makes you want to cry.

it’s so easy to stop thinking.

which is exactly the case when dahyun finds her way onto the dance floor, swaggering. selugi spins you towards her embrace and she catches you, hands securing the waist, fingers sliding down to your hips. her voice rumbles from her chest and into your ears when she speaks, mouth skimming the curve orf it. “you know, tzuyu really wanted me to meet you.”

you wrap your arms around her neck. “she did?”

“yeah, she did. said you needed to meet someone new.”

“oh. i didn’t know.” dahyun leads you into a dance, slipping their knee between your legs. something cold curdles up in the pit of your stomach, but the warmth of the alcohol makes it easy to ignore. have fun, you remind yourself.

“yeah, thank god she did,” dahyun says.

the music, booming club/house hit, robs most of your hearing, but when you sway your hips and she follows the motion of it, moving with you, you can hear the dark rumble of her groan, can feel it when dahyun says, “fuck, you’re so hot. you wanna get out of here?”

that cold pit in the base of your stomach explodes, icy panic flooding your insides. dahyun’s eyes widen with shock as you push her away from you, and when she tries to tug you close again, you bat her away, snapping, “no.”

you stumble to the end of the club, shoving on your coat as you rush out into the cold weather. you tremble more from the alarm than the chill when you pull out your phone and scroll through the contact list.

sana answers before the end of the first ring. “y/n?”

“i’m coming to your house,” you announce, waving widely as you try to flag down a taxi.

“is something wrong? your voice sounds weird. do you want me to pick you up?”

“i’m coming,” you repeat. “to your house. so tell your doorman to let me in.”

“baby, are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?”

the pet name stings. as does your persistent loyalty to her. wouldn’t have been so freeing to make her hurt? “no.”

“y/n—”

“i’ll see you now.”

you hang up just as a taxi stops beside you. opening the door and climbing into the car, slurring out sana’s address. given that her apartment complex is close, the drive takes under fifteen minutes. you had to swipe your card at least three separate times for the payment to go through. you nearly trip when stepping out, knees shaking and coltish, but right yourself quickly to march into the building. the red-headed doorman gives you a sour look that you meet with a scowl. thankfully, though, he lets you in without a word.

the journey to sana’s apartment is a blur. recognizing the soft elevator music and the ding as it opens. your heels click against the marble floors when you stumble down the hall, hands aligning against the wall to keep your balance. when you find sana’s door, you knock on it hard, speaking into the peephole. “it’s y/n. let me in!”

door swung open instantly; sana must’ve been waiting for you. heart throbbing when you see her, brown hair around her shoulder, barefoot and not-entirely relaxed, but she herds you in before you can get emotional, following you to the living room.

“are you okay?” sana asks.

“no.” you throw your purse down and wrestle to get your coat off. sana steps forward to help you but you shake your head, scoffing at her injured look.

“you’re drunk,” sana observes with disapproval., “why are you drunk?”

“i went out with tzuyu.”

“are you okay?” sana asks again.

“no. i’m drunk.”

sana’s expression shifts, wavering between panic and concern. you wonder what she has to be worried about, if she carries the past week with her the way that you did. but of course not, you think bitterly. why would she care at all?

“do you need water?”

you don’t reply, still struggling to take your coat off, suddenly overheated. sana watches you, making a frustrated sound deep in her throat. she runs her hand through her hair. “i don’t know what you wnat me to do then, baby.”

“i want you to stop calling me baby.”

“what?”

you whirl around. “i want you to stop with the pet names. i want you to stop with the gifts. i want you to stop sending me money. i-i want you to stop—talking to me like you care about me. it’s cruel, sana.”

“y/n, what are you talking about? of course i fucking care about you.” sana’s eyes widening. “did you take any drugs?”

“no!” you yell. “and no, i didn’t take any drugs!”

“then what the fuck is your problem?”

“my problem,” you spit, narrowing your eyes, speaking through your teeth. “is that i don’t want to be your damn sugar baby anymore!”

“what?!”

“yeah! your sugar baby, sana. does it make you feel bad when i say it? because it makes me fel fucking worse.” your voice cracking, shaking your head. “and i take it anymore.”

sana grasps the side of her hair. “take what? take what anymore? what the fuck are you talking about?”

“this!” you gesture between you and sana. “i can’t— i can’t keep pretending that i’m okay with this. that you can go to my house, fuck me, and then venmo me some money after like it’s okay. like i’m your—at first i thought it would be fine. it hurt me, made me feel sick, but i thought….i guess i thought that things would change but they haven’t. they haven’t and it really fucking hurts.”

“y/n, sweetheart, my love—” you flinch—”i’m really gonna need you to start making sense before i lose my fucking mind.”

“what doesn’t make any sense to you? my feelings? did you really expect that you could get to fuck me fore three months and i wound’t feel anything? am i that much of a fucking doll to you?”

“wha—?”

“you know, tonight i met this girl that was really into me,” you say, and giddily watch sana freeze. “tzuyu introduced me to her. she thought we’d be good together. she wanted me.”

sana’s face goes flat, hands stalling in the air between them. your pulse skips at the sudden coldness that grips her, the way her eyes darken, like the brief seconds of peace that precede the explosion of a volcano.

“what?” she asks quietly. “what did you say?”

“but i didn’t want her!” you cry. a jolt of panic runs through you, as fierce as your heartbreak. “i didn’t! she said she wanted to sleep with me and i said no! because of you, sana! because i like you! i really, really, really like you and i have feelings for you, and—”

“are you saying you could have cheated on me!” sana yells. “did you just admit to my fucking face expect me to thank you?!”

“cheat on what? you’re not my girlfriend, you’re my sugar mommy! thats’ what this whole argument is about!”

“i’m not your damn sugar mommy! i told you from day-fucking-one that i hated that shit! i think it’s disgusting! i told you that! if it were up to me, park jihyo would be dead in the fucking ground!”

“oh.” stumbling back. the shock crashing over in waves, realization threatening to wash over you. “i–oh, fuck. god.”

because sana was right. she did tell you that, just twenty minutes into the first meeting. her giving money to you after the first date misled you, given the impression that this was something sordid, but sana never acted that way. not once. she only ever treated you like…

you cradle your face when sana paces in front of you, muscles tense with rage. her fists shake by her sides, knuckles white, and you have the sudden urge to throw yourself down at her feet and kiss them, to beg for her forgiveness.

“i’m sorry. sana, i’m so sorry.” you gaps. “i didn’t—i misinterpreted everything, and i—”

sana stops in place to look at you, blazing eyes rooting you to the ground. your breath twists in your lungs as the words melt on your tongue, leaving you with nothing. because you have nothing. there’s nothing to say.

and sana takes you in, the trembling and tears, you being desperate for forgiveness. she runs a hand over your face, sighing heavily. “you’re way too drunk to be having this conversation.”

“i’m not.” you’re not lying. if you were a tad bit less sober, the doubt would be hurting just as much.

“yes, you are.”

“sana, i won’t be able to sleep unless we talk this through.”

“i don’t give a shit. you’re going to bed.”

you whimper as she marches past you, stumbling after her to follow. she stops when you reach the bedroom and open the door for you to head inside. you do, slowly, like you expect to face some form of punishment or further scolding, but sana only walks to her drawers and fishes for a t-shirt, holding it out to you.

as you take it, she leaves the room, giving you privacy to change. you sniffle quietly as you shove your dress down and off around your feet, and slip the shirt on. just as you bend to take off your shoe, sana comes back into the room, carrying a glass of water. she watches you struggle for a beta before sighing and placing the glass down on her nightstand. you nearly weep when you watch sana kneeled down in front of you, her hands going to your ankles. “sana, i—”

“not now,” she says, looking up at you, eyes still hard and angry, but her fingers gentle, thumb tapping your bone, “we can talk about it tomorrow.”

when sana’s done, she steps back, lining upr your heels against the wall.

“get in bed,” sana orders

“sana, i-i can sleep on the couch,” you say weakly. “i really don’t need to take your bed. i’ve had enough trouble already. ‘

“i don’t care. get in.”

“really, it’s—”

“get. in.”

her tone leaves no room for debate, and you clamber up to slip beneath the covers. you stare up at sana, hoping she’ll offer to climb in next to you, but she pushes the water towards you, instead.

“drink.”

“i’m not thirsty.”

“it’s not for your thirst. it’s so you have enough wits about you in the morning. and, also, for right now. i’m not exactly trusting your judgment.”

sana drops three ibuprofen tablet into your palm. while she watches, you dutifully swallow each one, gilt hollowing out your stomach. you open your mouth to speak, but she nudges the glass up, silently demand you drink. she doesnt’ stop until you’ve downed the whole thing. once it’s empty, sana nods with satisfaction and steps back.

“we’ll talk in the morning. for now, please go to sleep.”

“sana.”

“go to sleep,” she repeats, an edge to her voice. “if i hear anything else, i—” she stops herself. roughly shakes her head. “i can’t guarantee what i’ll do next.”

you flinch when the door slams shut behind her, throwing yourself down onto sana’s pillow. a sob builds in your throat when her scent hits you in full force, and you inhale it greedily, chest stuttering as you curly around it, clinging to it like it can morph into her skin.

and sleep is also unkind. it’s only gracious enough to give you any reprieve when the sun peeks over the horizon. you fall into it fruitfully.

—

you’re awoken to a soft touch, a hand gently shaking your shoulder. “y/n. y/n, get up.”

sana’s voice registers, at first distant and tinny, then overwhelming, a sharp spiek into your barin. you jolt up, nearly headbutting her as you scramble to face her. sana moves to sit on a chair she’s pulled up the side of her bed. she looks at you calmly, her hands folded over her knees, foot bouncing, because she can never be fully at ease. her body doesn’t let her.

“good morning.”

everything that you’ve been feeling the night before suddenly rises to the surface again in an overwhelming rush. you can’t even think to compose yourself. your head and heart aches too much to try.

“i’m sorry!” i cry. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i didn’t— i honestly thought—i don’t know why—no, i do know why but—i didn’t think i was cheating on you. i thought you were my s-sugar mommy and i thought our relationship was transactional. it’s why i was so nervous when you met mina because i thought she’d find out. i had no idea—”

you huff, words croaking out into a sob, and sana moves her chair to the edge of her bed to cup your face. you lean into it, tears smearing against her skin.

“i’m not going to say that i’m not angry, because i am. or that i’m not confused, because i really am. but i think i’m starting to understand where the confusion is.”

“i’m sorry.”

“is it because i gave you money?” sana asks, ignoring it.

you nod. “yes.”

“even after i told you that i thought that shit was gross?”

“it wasn’t then,” you say. “i didn’t go out with you with dual inteitinons. i thought it was a date.”

“which it was.”

“i realize that now.”

“so, it was after? when i sent you—”

“a thousand dollars, sana,” you breathe—still, even now, in disbelief. “which, you have to admit, is a little ridiculous to send someone you met when they were first trying out to be someone’s sugar baby.”

“that’s why i sent it. i knew you needed it. i though you’d understand.”

“i didn’t. and even if i did, can’t you admit that’s strange? or at the very least, kind of offensive?”

“no.” sana slides her hand down, thumb tapping your chin like she did when she first kissed you. “id’ be strange if it was for anyone but you.”

a rosy flush stains your cheeks, spreading high. “i don’t know what that means.”

“i think you do.” she slips her hand away and leans back. her face hardens when she says, “no about that girl—”

“we never kissed!” you say desperately. “we never kissed. she never touched me, not really. we just danced. i only said that because i wanted to provoke you.”

“you nearly did. i swear to god, y/n. i wanted to do something about that.”

you grab sana’s hand and lift it between you two. “i’m sorry. i was being spiteful.”

“it’s fine. i’m not angry with you.”

“you’re not?”

“no. but if kim dahyun—”

“how do you know her name?”

“she texted you. i blocked her number—ever ends up horribly injdured and is brought to me as a patient, i’m passing the cart to the next surgeon.”

“you’re not funny.”

“who said i was joking?”

“sana.”

before you can scold her, sana wraps an arm around you and secrues you to her, heart pouding a slow righym against your ear. you feel her chin drop onto your crown, her hand sliding up your back.

“i love you, y/n,” sana says. her hold tightens when you freeze, but she continues, undeterred. “i love you and it only took me about a week to realize it.”

tears crowd your eyes in earnest. sana’s name comes out as a gasp, but she pulls you back to cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “i love you. this has never been transactional for me. not once.”

“i—”

“you got something to say to that?”

“sana.” she stops to watch you, eyes going soft as you start to weep. she presses her lips to your forehead, then shifts so that your face falls into her neck. you cling to sana, mouth moving against the skin of her. “...’ove you.”

“what?”

“i said i love you.”

“i know. i just wanted to hear you say it again.”

sana laughs when you pinch her side, and you two settle into a comfortable silence s you sid and hold each other, sinking into bliss. that is until sana says, “does this mean you’re cool with getting married? you know, eventually?”

“what?”

“i told you i wanted to marry you and you said you loved me. that wasn’t a no.”

“you didn’t propose.”

“i thought i was implied.”

“an implication is not a proposal, sana. that’s been our whole issue.” you say as sana frowns. “and i don’t wanna think about getting married until sometime later.”

“so what do you want to do in the meantime, wander around like two hopeless romantics that we are?”

“well—” you rise up to your knees, words purposefully slow as you push sana to the bed and climb over her. her hands find your waist, sliding up. you kiss the grin from her lips.

“just stay close to me. that’s all i ask.”

#hyunie #twice imagines #twice x reader #kpop x reader #sana x reader #twice sana #sana #minatozaki sana #minatozaki sana x reader #sana imagines #twice fluff #twice angst #sana angst #sana fluff #twice x you

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

the girl next door 9

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You don’t go straight home. You don’t want to upset your mom. So, you wander the suburbs, walking around cul-de-sacs, some you’ve never been down, and circling around the avenues. You pass mothers and fathers with strollers and children running and yelling on green lawns. It’s as if you’re walking through a utopia, floating by like a cursed wraith.

You glance down at the book in your hand. Maybe you should try some lighter reading. Your mind tends to go to dark places.

When at last you let yourself go back to the house, you do so cautiously. You don’t see Steve or your mom. As you come to the front door, you wonder if you should knock. You quietly let yourself in, gently closing the door as you stand on the mat. You leave your shoes on the low rack and tiptoe down the hall. Your mom can’t be mad if she doesn’t know you’re there.

“Hey, kiddo,” Steve’s voice as you tripping over your own feet. You turn to the archway as you pass and peer in. Your mother’s in her recliner, her eyes closed. Is she sleeping? You watch her warily. “How was your walk?”

“Um,” you blink and shrug, “fine.”

He stands by the window, his hand on the wall beside it. Did he see you come up? You hadn’t noticed him behind the curtain.

“Breakfast for you in the oven. Won’t be very warm but if it’s no good, I can start a new batch,” he offers.

“Don’t bother with all that,” your mother grumbles and shifts in her chair, groaning as she shakily rubs her cheek. Her eyes open only slightly. “She can warm ‘em up.”

“Always better fresh,” Steve stands straight and faces you fully.

“Thanks.”

You leave them with the single word. You feel like an intruder. You stop by your bedroom and hover in indecision. You just want to hide but you would hate to be rude. Steve went to all that trouble and you know, even as your mother says he’s already done too much, she’d be even more upset if you wasted his effort.

You put your book on the foot of your bed and go down to the kitchen. You take out the pancakes, content enough to have them cold. There’s a bottle of real maple syrup. Steve must’ve supplied that; you can’t afford the pure stuff. You don’t use very much, mindful of the expense of the sugary nectar.

You grab cutlery and bring the plate to the table. You sit alone. You can hear the hum of the ceiling fan from the front room and the dulcet song of birds floating in through the windows. Steve’s low tone rolls through the din but you can’t make out his words. You mother answers his with short mutters. She’s not having a very good day. You're surprised he stayed this long.

The pancakes are good, even at room temperature. They’re fluffy and taste richer than the frozen ones you get a bargain on. Is that blueberry too? With each bite, your hunger clenches your stomach tighter, mulching down the food greedily. When you finish, your body growls and aches.

You wash off your plate and put it in the tray. The lull of the house thickens as you pad down to your room. You slow as you near the door frame. Had you closed it? You can’t recall.

You turn into the room and let out a noise of surprise. Steve looks over as he stands over the folding table, his hand on your sketchbook, a page half-turned. Your heart drops as you clasp your hands together.

“Sorry, er, didn’t mean to...” he rescinds his hand and lets the page flutter down, “It was open and...” you don’t know whether he means the door or the book. “You’re really talented.”

Your forehead crinkles and you charge towards him. You step around him and shut the book, swiping it up. He leans back on his heel.

“I didn’t... I wasn’t trying to...” he sputters, “I just wanted to pass something by you.”

You hug your sketchbook at you face him. You stare at this chest. You feel violated. Not just that he’s in your space but he touched your stuff. The one thing that’s really yours; your drawings.

“Me and your mom were talking, you know, and she said it would be good for you to get out, maybe make some extra money,” he explains, “and I’ll be around so you won’t need to worry about her so much.”

You frown. You and your mother have had this talk a billion times. Get off your ass and get a job. It’s not like you haven’t tried.

“So, I got some work you can do. Like I said, I gotta get that pool open,” he continues, “and there’s little things around the house. You got a good hand so maybe some painting here and there.”

You push your shoulders up. You don’t think you can say no, especially if he’s already said as much to your mom. You half-suspect this is her doing.

“Complementary milkshakes?” He offers breezily.

You’re quiet. You have no choice. You know as much.

“You know,” he softens his tone, “if I’m gonna... hang around with your mom, we should get to know each other. It’s a good opportunity for us.”

“Fine,” you answer.

“Fine? So that’s a yes?” He asks.

You close your eyes and flick them open, “yes.”

“Great. Well, when can you start? How about tomorrow? Supposed to be another sunny day.”

“Okay,” you agree, “tomorrow.”

He doesn’t move. You want him to leave. The conversation is over. He got what he wants and your mom too. He’ll pay you dimes to clean the pool and your mom will reap the profit.

“You know, I draw a little too,” he points to your sketchbook, “maybe if we have time tomorrow, I can show you.”

“Maybe,” you mutter.

“Ah, uh,” he chuckles bashfully and rubs his neck, “right, I'm in your way. Well, er, I’ll leave ya be.” He turns and struts to the door. He stops just inside the frame and looks back, “oh, how were the pancakes?”

You take a breath and stay staring at the wall, “good.”

“Great, did you have some of the syrup? It’s Canadian.”

“Yeah,” you turn and tuck your sketchbook into your dresser draw. “Thanks.”

“No problem, sweetie,” he taps the wall and the door closes with a click.

You sit on your bed and hunch over to hold your head. It’s still heavy from the night before and now you’re even more tired than before. You don’t know if it’s from being out in the sun or all the walking you did, but your eyelids feel dry and seem to cling with each blink. You yawn and bring your legs up, curling your body up near the edge of the bed.

You know you shouldn’t sleep in the middle of the day, but you just can’t help yourself.

🏠

You wake up in the haze of the late afternoon. Your eyes hurt and your limbs are achy. You lay on your back as the curtains stir with the lazy breeze. You look over to find them open but you don’t remember pulling them apart. You barely remember anything past your awkward morning stroll.

It takes you a while to push through the stiffness. You never sleep on your back; it leaves it racked and your ribcage hurts. As you stand, you notice the door. It’s slightly open.

You get up and go to it, pull it inch by inch. The house is quiet but for a soft rumble, rhythmic and rocky. You putter down the hall and look into the front room. Your mom’s asleep in her chair. She’s almost peaceful as she snores in the recliner.

The scene strikes you as odd, almost dreamlike. Your mom’s never been much of a napper. In fact, she always nagged you about the habit. You think of waking her but think better of it. She won’t be happy to be awoken, even if she might be irritated later to know she slept away the day.

Steve is gone. You search each room to be sure then go to the kitchen. It’s clean and everything is put away, even the dishes you left in the tray. The large bottle of syrup is gone as well.

You mutter and go back to your room. Another soft wind drifts in. You stumble over to your bed and fall back onto it. You yawn again. Gosh, you’re so tired.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the girl next door #au #silverfox au #captain america #marvel #mcu

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cloudsmateria · 1 month

Text

love crushed - cloud x reader

summary: cloud can't sleep with you on his mind, unable to accept his feelings. until eventually you both get caught unable to sleep. confessions occur, seggs happens perchance.

tw: seggs, quite rough seggs

He finally gave up. After hours of writhing in his hotel room, trying to convince himself over and over again, he knew he wasn’t winning. You had been circulating his mind, doing laps, your face crossing his vision every second. Continuously recalling your cut-up face today, panting, exhausted, the way his heart failed at the sight of you. You had no hesitation when it came to saving anyone, even at the expense of yourself.

He groaned, dragging himself out of bed to get fresh air on the balcony. He dragged his hands down his face as he leaned against the railings, looking over Junon. He was being such a fucking girl about this, really. Just a simple crush and it was like he was 14 years old again, getting sweaty hands at the mere thought of you, and yet he still didn't want to accept it, what was right in front of him.

Cloud sighed deeply, resting his elbows against the railings and clasping his hands together. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn't be away from you. Even if you didn’t return his feelings, it wasn't going to stop him, no way in hell, he just needed you by his side, sitting in that bed he was already thinking about knocking on your door just to talk to you and see if you were still okay from that fight that happened hours ago.

"I don't like her. I'm just not used to having new friends," he told himself, the wind ruffling his hair and his heart pounding at the thought of you, eventually shaking his head, that didn't feel right. He couldn't even deny it anymore. "...It's just a crush, I'll get over it."

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

Cloud was already heading to your room, his hand raised to knock on the door before he realised what he was doing. He cursed himself, dropping his arm back down to his side. This was fucking ridiculous, what was he doing? Cloud didn't even realise the way he was acting, but this was unlike him. Normally, he was cool and collected, always had been, but you, you turned his world upside down and he had no idea how to handle it.

"Why am I doing this?" He thinks, softly leaning his head against the door. "She's probably sleeping, why are you disturbing her for this stupid shit?" He asked himself, turning around and walking down the hall towards the elevator. He pressed the button, waiting as he looked back at your door. And you stepped out, half asleep and still in your pajamas, it was so dark you didn't even see Cloud at the end of the hallway.

You shuffled down the hallway. Your head was killing you, all those thoughts that had been swarming you for the past few hours, and now you had a headache. It was a horrible, horrible, night. You needed to go see Aerith to see if she had any healing spells, or Tifa to see if she had any medication, maybe you could go out and clear your head.

You bumped straight into Cloud's chest while you were rubbing your eyes.

"Y/n?"

"Cloud?"

"What are you doing up? Are you okay?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Not trying to sneak out on us are you?" You say, looking up at him, squinting. The hallway lights were bright and you couldn't see his expression properly.

"Just taking a walk."

"Oh my god, that's great. Can I join you?"

"Sure. Everything okay?"

"Yeah," you sigh, "I just couldn't sleep, I've got a lot of things on my mind."

"I know what that's like."

"You couldn't sleep either, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?" You ask, walking next to him as you both go downstairs.

"Not really." You smiled.

"You're never going to open up to me, are you? It's nice to get things off your chest, you know. I'm a great listener."

"You're also so nosy."

"Only for hot, mysterious guys." You giggle, poking him in the chest. He rolls his eyes, shaking his head and trying not to smile, but you notice his mouth twitching and the tips of his ears going red. "Where are we going, by the way?"

"Down on the beach, unless you want to go somewhere else?"

"No, it's fine. I love the beach."

"You'll freeze."

"I won't."

"You're still wearing your PJs."

"I don't need a lecture, Cloud."

"Well it's my problem if you get sick, isn't it?"

"That's cute. Assuming the responsibility of taking care of me."

"Isn't that what I'm doing right now?"

"Touche."

You both walked in silence to the beach, the breeze was warm and the stars were shining bright in the sky. The waves were crashing on the shore, the smell of the ocean was filling the air, and Cloud was beside you.

"What's on your mind?" He asked.

"Hit my head when we were fighting earlier, had a headache. And just thinking about some stupid shit that happened years ago, it's so annoying when you can't get things out of your head and you get a headache."

"I get it. I feel the same way. Sometimes it feels like a million things are happening and all at once."

"Exactly."

You were quiet for a moment, listening to the ocean and feeling the soft sand beneath your feet. He turned to face you while you were looking over the water, moonlight softly reflecting in your eyes, lighting up your face. Breathtaking. Although brutally reminded of earlier as his eyes dropped down to the cut on your cheek, the gash on your arm.

"I’m sorry that I couldn't get to you quick enough earlier."

"It's fine, you don’t have to protect me. Just ended up with a concussion."

"Why do you always get yourself hurt for other people?" You laughed.

"I couldn't let Tifa get hurt, could I? She deserves princess treatment. You would know, you have a crush on her, don't you?"

"What?" Cloud choked.

"Knowing a girl that pretty since you were kids? Sounds like a great love story." You were genuinely curious, not wanting to be a homewrecker or get the wrong idea from him at any point. You could get the vibe that she liked him too, that they were flirting sometimes.

"Tifa is my best friend, I've known her for years."

"You guys were arguing like a couple in Nice. Or is it a relationship?"

"We're childhood friends."

"That's not what I asked, Cloud."

"No, it’s not.”

"What about Aerith?"

"Aerith is like my sister."

"Do you have a crush on her then? Is that why you always get flustered around her?"

"Why does it matter? You've got a thing for Reno, don't you?" You burst out laughing, he couldn't help but smile watching you die for a minute straight, until you could feel abs coming through. But he genuinely wanted a straight answer. "Don't you?"

"No?" You snorted.

"Leslie or Tseng?"

"Oh my God, Cloud. You're going to kill me." You laughed. "What makes you think that?"

"You kept calling them hot. The way you look at both of them too. "

"The way I look at him? Are you jealous?" You tease.

"Of course not." He said sternly.

"Why are you getting so defensive, Strife?" You smirk.

"I'm not."

"Sounds like jealousy to me."

"Why would I get jealous?"

"Are you sure you're not jealous, Cloudy? You're getting a bit worked up."

"Y/n..." He mutterest annoyedly.

"You're not denying it."

"What's there to deny? ...Oh, come on. I saw the way you looked at Reno."

"Reno's a pain in the ass. An attractive pain in the ass. But I don't like him." Thank God, he thinks. "What about you then? Aerith or Tifa?"

"No."

"No to both of them?"

"Why are you surprised?"

"Because they're gorgeous! Are you gay?!"

"No. I'm just... not attracted to them. That's all."

"Ok so... not gay, not attracted to Tifa or Aerith." You list. "You have to like someone."

"Who do you like thetn?" I’m not ready for an unrequited confession, you think.

"I asked first."

"Are you 5?"

"We're literally sitting here talking about crushes and you're dodging the question. You’re the five-year-old."

"This is ridiculous."

"Who is it?"

"Are we really going to do this here?"

"Please."

"I like you." Cloud says, finally looking at you. You freeze, blinking a couple of times. His heart sinks to his stomach, knowing he should’ve expected rejection and feeling like a fucking idiot.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Say it again."

"I like you, Y/n. What? Have I ruined everything?" One more butterfly and you would've flown away.

"You don't." You say, trying to confirm it.

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"If you're being serious I'm going to do something really stupid."

"Wha-" You grabbed the collar of his vest, pushing his face toward you, lips connecting. His hands find your waist quickly, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. Your hands snake around his neck, running through his hair, his hand cupping your cheek, thumb stroking it. He pulls away, biting your bottom lip, picking your hips to wrap your legs around his waist, panting heavily and taken shocked.

"You have no idea how long it took for me to come to terms with the fact I like you."

“I can’t believe it either.” You smile, kissing him again. “I bagged Cloud Strife.”

“And I bagged you.”

"Let’s get back to the hotel. It’s cold.”

“Almost like I said. And who’s going to be the one taking care of you?”

“It’s almost like I wanted you to warm me up.” You smiled.

…

He quickly had you against the door the second you got in, kissing down your neck feverishly. It was the only thing he could do after you had been relentlessly going through his mind all week. He wanted nothing more than to feel every inch of you.

"Cloud," you moan, pulling at his vest and throwing it off of him.

"What?" He breathes, his hand reaching the back of your neck to pull you into another kiss.

"Do you know how hot you are?"

"Do you know how hot you are? Why the hell are you not naked yet?" He mumbles into your mouth, ripping your shirt off.

"Fuck." You gasp, as his lips travel down your chest, unclipping your bra. "Couldn't even wait to get onto the bed? Ah-!" His nimble fingers came to your breast, rolling the bud, his mouth sucking in your other nipple, tongue swirling around it. You grip onto his hair, your body burning, twitching. He lifts his head, his lips capturing yours again.

"You're beautiful."

"You're making me blush." You breathe, as his finger catches in your waistband, moving slowly.

“It looks good on you."

"Hurry up, please,"

"Begging already?"

"You've had me waiting long enough, I swear-" He presses his lips against yours again, silencing you.

"Patience."

"I can’t." You mutter as he pulls off your shorts and undergarments, bringing his face down, arms wrapped around your thighs to prop you up against the wall.

"Please, Cloud."

"God, I love it when you beg. You have no idea what it does to me." He groans, taking in what is in front of him.

"Fucking do something about it." You say frustratedly, bucking your hips forward to prompt any kind of contact.

"Didn't expect you to be such a brat." He nudges his nose against your clit, making your thighs squeeze, although forced back open by his arms.

"Cloud!"

He licks a long stripe down your pussy, his tongue slipping in. His tongue flicks, making you arch as you whisper his name over and over.

"Cloud, fuck, Cloud,"

"So pretty," he says, muffled.

"More, please."

He takes your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, his arms holding you up as you start to shake. His tongue works its way down, sliding in and out, nose pressed deeply into your sensitive bud. It didn't take you long to feel yourself build up to your finish.

"I'm close." You whimper, he feels your thighs tighten, letting your thighs squeeze his head and hang your legs over your shoulder.

"Come on, baby."

You moan as your climax reaches, eyes rolling back, gripping his hair tightly. Your legs begin to twitch, his head lifting up.

"So perfect for me." He hums, standing up, held up by your ass as he brings your face up for a kiss. He brings you over to lie on his bed. He kisses down your body, making you whine.

"What about you?" You ask.

"What about me?"

"Don't you want to finish?"

"You want me to fuck you?"

"God, yes."

"Are you sure you can handle it, princess?" He asks, undoing his trousers and removing the rest of his clothes. “How do you want it?”

"However you want."

"I asked how you wanted it, Y/n.”

"I'm indecisive, I just need you. Do whatever you want, please."

"You sure you're not going to regret that? I won't hold back." He says, kicking off his trousers. You can see the bulge through his boxers, making your heart stop for a minute. "Having second thoughts?"

"That's a lot for my first time."

"You're a virgin?"

"I don't exactly have time for boyfriends when I move all over the place."

"I'll be gentle then."

"I thought you said you weren't holding back." You sit up, watching him as he pulls it out, and kicks away his boxers too. Speechless.

"Only if you had a deathwish." He teases.

"Can I suck it?"

"Only if you promise not to bite."

"No promises."

He smiles, stroking his cock a couple of times, standing over you. He lets your hand wrap around it, guiding you to his tip. You take him in your mouth, his hand tangling itself in your hair, gently guiding himself down your throat.

"You're so pretty." He groans. You swirl your tongue, making him buck his hips slightly, a moan escaping his lips. You hum, sending vibrations down his dick, his grip tightening in your hair.

"Faster," he pleads, thrusting into your mouth, your eyes watering as he goes deeper. "Fuck,"

He pulls out, you lick a long strip down the underside, sucking the tip. You can taste the precum as you go back to deepthroating him as far as you can manage until you feel his balls tighten.

"God, I could cum in your mouth right now."

You can feel him getting close, his grip starts to tighten. He pulls you away by your hair.

"I was going to let you finish me, but I want to hear you scream." He pushes you back down onto the bed, spreading your legs wide open. You can feel the heat radiating off of his dick, as it rests on your pelvis. "You still want this?"

"Yes, Cloud. Please, please."

"Needy thing." He says, leaning down to peck your lips. He swirls a finger around your clit, before pushing the tip against it, slowly running it up and down. He watches the way your face contorts in pleasure, as you grab the pillow underneath your head. He lines himself up, changing his mind at the last second with a grin, rubbing it up between your lips again.

"Stop teasing me,"

"It's so fun to watch your squirm,"

"I'll finish myself off."

"Oh yeah? How are you going to do that if I'm holding you down?" He grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head.

"I can't wait any longer, please."

"Since you're begging so nicely."

"God, finally." He leans over again, kissing you one more time before lining himself up. Slowly, pushing the tip in, and letting you adjust to the stretch as he stayed there for a minute. He groaned, it was already so tight, hot, wet.

"Fuck... So tight." He mutters, thrusting the tip in. "You okay?"

"Yeah." You twitch around him, and he feels it. He pushes in slowly, inch by inch. His cock filling you, the stretch getting wider, as he slides in completely, the inside of you full.

"Ah- Fuck."

"Want me to stop?" You shake your head. He bites down on his bottom lip. "God you feel so good." Slowly, he pulls out, the head catching on the edge, and pushes in again. The pace stays slow for a while, his hand holding your wrists above your head.

"Taking me so good." He moans, kissing your neck again. You whimper, any discomfort starting to melt away, pleasure taking over.

"Harder, Cloud."

He complies, snapping his hips into you, the pace slowly picking up. You cry out and his hand comes off your wrists to clamp around your mouth before you woke up everyone else, his thrusts turning into a fast and rough pace, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing through the room. His breath was hot on your neck, panting.

"You want it rough?"

"God, please, yes." He pulls out suddenly, flipping you over onto your chest, your ass hanging in the air.

His hand came to your hip, slamming back into you, grabbing a handful of hair and yanking it back, forcing your back to arch. His pace was brutal, his hand leaving your hip, coming to the small of your back, holding you in that position. The room filled with nothing but the sound of his balls hitting your clit, the obscene wet noise of his cock slipping in and out. You bury your face into the pillow, muffling the noises spilling out of your mouth.

"God, you take my cock so well. Such a good girl." He groans. His pace begins to stagger, his dick twitching inside you. "Can't believe I had to wait this long for you."

He pulls your head back, pressing his chest against your back. He kisses and sucks at the skin of your neck, his hips snapping against your ass, the sound of the headboard knocking against the wall. His hand comes back down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles, and it was overwhelming. You felt tears form in the corner of your eyes.

"I'm so close."

"Me too."

"Come on, y/n, cum on my cock." His hips snapped again, and you couldn't hold back anymore. The knot in your stomach released, your legs shaking.

"Fuck." He groans, his hips stuttering and his hand coming down to grip your ass, feeling the convulsions of your body around his dick. "I'm going to cum inside."

"Please."

"You want it?"

"Uh-huh."

He buries himself inside, a guttural groan escaping his throat, the heat of his cum filling you up, twitching, his thrusts slowing, riding out his orgasm. His arms wrapped around your body, keeping you pressed against his chest, as you both lay there, panting, trying to catch your breath.

"Fuck." He chuckles. "That was..."

"Wow."

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"I'm seeing stars, I think. Or maybe I'm in love."

"You're definitely in love." He smiles, kissing your cheek. He thrusts deep into you one more time, his cock sensitive, the both of you moaning. "Round two?" He suggests.

"I'll die." He laughs and pulls out of you, you whimpering at the loss. He rolls onto his back, pulling you with him.

"I'll get you a pill tomorrow morning, okay?"

"I have an important question."

He wraps his arms around your waist, his forehead pressed against yours. "Go on."

"How did you learn how to fuck so good?"

"I had a lot of pent-up energy."

"So I was just an easy outlet?"

"Maybe."

"I don't want to hear another word."

"I'm joking. It was pent up feelings, you idiot."

"Or maybe you're just a man whore?"

"No, definitely not. Just pent up feelings, like I said."

"For how long?"

"Like a year."

"That's a long time."

"I know."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought you didn't like me."

"Cloud."

“Mm.”

“You’re stupid.”

“I know. We could’ve fucked sooner.”

"Is that what you're really thinking about?"

"Not really. I'm thinking about how good your pussy feels around my cock."

"You're gross."

"You're gross, you made me cum inside you. They're going to give us an earful tomorrow, they definitely heard us." He mumbles, littering kisses up and down your neck again, wrapping his arms around you tighter.

"Guess we better get some sleep then?"

“Anything you say, princess.”

this is my first time writing smut. not sure how to feel about it. maybe a little too fast paced but very fun to write, learnt a lot.

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sassypossumm · 2 months

Text

art cred: amwp_roy

More sub!Miguel, dadbod edition (18+)

Sub!Miguel whines from his place kneeling before you on the ground, as he watches you slowly slide two fingers into your pussy.

Shock! From his vantage point, he has a perfect view of your glistening folds. He bites his lip at your soft moan mingles with the erotic sound of your fingers sliding wetly in and out of your pussy.

Sub!Miguel strains at his restraints. Bondage tape. It had been his anniversary present to you, and his cock had hardened at the way your eyes had darkened when you looked from it to him.

Sub!Miguel is beginning to question whether the tape was a blessing or a curse given his current situation. You'd caught him jerking off without you.

A big no no.

Now he was bound, naked, kneeling at your feet as you pleasured yourself, helpless to do anything about his painfully erect cock.

"Poor baby..." You clicked your tongue, and shook your head. Seeing the pathetically desperate expression on his face, you took pity on him and pulled your fingers from your pussy and tapped on his lips.

Sub!Miguel eagerly sucked your fingers into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as the taste of your tangy arousal flooded his tongue.

"Such a good boy..." You cood, allowing him to swirl his tongue around your fingers before abruptly pulling them out. He whimpered at the loss.

"But you weren't a very good boy when you were busy touching my cock, were you?" He shook his head quickly, chasing your fingers with his mouth.

"Easy boy." Your voice lowered, and you pressed the high heel of your shoe against his chest to gently push him back. He whimpered, and a pearly of precum slid down his aching length.

Sub!Miguel grit his teeth and moaned. "Please, sweatheart...por favor mi amor...let me touch myself..." You arched a brow and circled your clit with calculated small circles.

"You know the consequences for touching what's mine without permission, baby." He whimpered again, and your heart softened at the needy look in his large brown eyes as you struggled to maintain the facade.

Sub!Miguel shuffled forward and rested his forehead against your knee, his soft stomach pressing into your calf. "I'm sorry I touched myself, mi vida....por favor....it hurts..."

Sighing heavily, you raised his chin with a finger and nudged his cock with your shoe.

"If you wanna get off... hump my shoe like a good slut... and if you're a very good boy...I'll let you eat my pussy."

Sub!Miguel ground his cock furiously against the tip of your shoe, and you couldn't even be mad when his cum soaked your incredibly expensive Jimmy Choo's after he'd brought you to orgasm twice on his tongue.

Best anniversary ever

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel imagine #miguel o'hara x y/n

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notjustjavierpena · 8 months

Text

Wake

A/N: Finally another part of my darksugardaddy!joel. This has been sitting in my WIPs for a while, and I’m so pleased with how it turned out. Be kind to me as I haven’t written in a while and I feel terrible about starving you all of content.

Summary: Joel comes home to fuck your lights out.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dub-con with non-con elements, painful and rough sex, p in v sex, choking, passing out, degradation, abusive behavior, creampie, dirty talk, no aftercare, sugar daddy, daddy kink

Word count: 2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50908876

Wake

It’s a late afternoon when you come to a realization; you don’t love Joel Miller, and you don’t think you could ever love Joel Miller. He is everything that you’ve been taught to hate if you want to believe in fairytales. Your parents would disapprove of him so immediately that you’d be terrified of them cutting you off from them if they knew of his existence.

You’ve never had a man be this rough with you, and only occasionally stroking your hair in apology afterward, but you suppose that the copious amounts of money spent on you - clothes that feel like armor around regular men and expensive bottles of wine that might as well have been potions designed to make you insane - is enough to make up for any unpleasantries within what you don’t dare call a relationship.

You don’t love him but you can’t hate him. Not in a way that any other person would. How else would you surround yourself with pretty things? You’re no good at anything else than being what he needs.

Whenever he has had a bad day, you know the roughness will increase. It always starts the same; with a slam of the mansion door and a hungry search for you through the obnoxiously large building. He calls for you and you don’t dare not to answer, and in the end, he finds you in the extravagant living room - one of many - with its gold-rimmed glass tables and Chesterfield couches. You’ve been reading a book, but you put it down the second he enters and don’t even bother asking to read to the next full stop.

“There you are,” he almost heaves for breath with exhaustion from his anger. He isn’t angry at you - you know this - but still, you find yourself treading lightly when his voice is so cold that the living room seems to drop a few degrees in temperature and causing your nipples to harden at the sudden change.

Then, as part of your ritual, he gets a thick wad of bills from the inside pocket of his suit and places it on the nearest surface. A bank transfer won’t do in these situations. He needs something physical, something he can hold in his hand and flash before you, and you know that he wants you to fall to your knees and beg for the warmth and dirtiness of the printed bills against your clean skin.

You’re just about to when he interrupts you.

“There will be more when you wake,” he promises, voice almost too quiet and restrained. Like he is saving his strength.

You notice his choice of words; when you wake.

Wake.

You gulp. You’ll have to take it in stride. You’ll have to play the part.

You rise from your seat and he watches you patiently. You say nothing as you lower yourself onto the glass table and then lie down on your back, knowing it can hold because Joel would never buy a surface that he couldn’t have you on.

You’ve learned not to wear anything too difficult to get out of, so it takes little time for you to pull off your skirt. Though you struggle a bit with your underwear since they’re already damp, sticking to the outline of your cunt and the sight makes Joel smirk like the Devil. Curse him, you think, for knowing that you can barely function when he looms over you like a giant, like a dangerous predator that hasn’t tasted blood for weeks.

When you manage to maneuver your panties down your thighs, he twitches with impatience and curls his whole fist around the cotton fabric. He yanks them down and watches them twist into themselves as he pulls them down over the length of your legs and off your feet.

They catch on your heels for the tiniest second. He gracefully undoes the ankle straps of them and drops each one onto the floor after taking it off. The anticipation is killing you, toying with your ability to breathe properly and even moreso at the humiliation of only wearing your top now.

“Pull it down,” he commands, gesturing to it. You start to yank at the bottom to pull it over your head but he growls, “Down. Not off, stupid bitch.”

Oh.

You pull the neckline down to settle it underneath your breasts, feeling like something on display with the way that Joel takes you in. His cock strains against the front of his pants, his breath uneven, when he cups both of your tits in his hands and pushes them roughly together. His thumbs skim over your hardened nipples, causing you to moan and he responds by pinching them instead until the moan transforms into a whimper.

“I’m gonna fuck you until your pretty little lights go out,” he mutters, pinches, and then tugs a bit on your nipples until you move involuntarily, “Lie still. Don’t give me any shit.”

He takes a step back, his gaze pinning you down whilst he undoes his belt. You refrain from shivering in case he tells you off once more, but you’re so close to doing it when you hear the noise of his zipper. A gush of wetness seeps from you, possibly smearing the glass surface that you are lying on.

“Please,” you say pathetically.

“Please what?” He asks as if he doesn’t care.

“Daddy,” you present your cunt for him by opening your legs and Joel instinctively looks at your quivering slit, “Please fuck me.”

Joel steps between your legs, using his knees to push them even further apart. He towers over you, cock standing impressively into the air after he has shoved his pants and underwear down his thighs. He tuts at the desperate look in your eyes, “I barely make it through the front door before you’re spreading your legs for me.”

You want to argue that he was the one who sought you out, but he might leave you with a throbbing cunt if you have the audacity to play smart with him, so instead you just nod with a breathless ‘yes’.

He places one knee on the coffee table, following up with scooping a hand underneath the small of your back to align your lower pelvises. His grip is so strong, his bare skin, the amount you are allowed to feel, burns against your own. Like King Midas, his touch enriches you, turns you into something as valuable as gold.

His cock breaches your tight cunt moments after. He watches you intently as your eyes screw shut with the inevitable sting that it brings due to his generous girth. He seats himself to the hilt inside of you and reaches something you didn’t even know a man could get to when he presses his hand into the spot where it rests on your back.

“Good girl,” he praises with a strained moan, “How do you feel?”

“Full,” you say shakily and teasingly clench around him.

He takes in a sharp breath, and before you know it, his free hand has come down on your right breast in a harsh slap. He adds to it by palming your throat afterward, tightly gripping it when you try to squeeze around his length again after not having been given time to react to the consequence of doing it the first time. You smirk up at him and he nearly loses his mind.

“God, you just want it bad, don’t you, little girl?” His hips draw back and he keeps you waiting for the briefest second before slamming them forward again. The force behind his thrusts is borderline painful, but the way his hand arches your back makes his cockhead pound your front wall.

The moans you let out are barely there, high-pitched or silent with the way he knocks all wind out of you whilst simultaneously cutting off oxygenated blood to your brain.

He fucks you like an animal, all groans and grunts, sweat dripping from his brow because he is too hungry for dominance to undress. He loves being able to quickly flee the scene afterward and loves leaving you with no clothes on so you cannot follow him.

But it’s not the amount of clothes that he wears compared to you that gets you close to the edge. It is the fact that nothing around you feels real except for him. Even you don’t feel real but rather closer to an inanimate object that only comes alive because of the dark eyes that penetrate your own.

You’ve known this fact for a while. Despite the love not being there, you know that after this arrangement has started - you don’t know what else to call it - his mere looking at you is what makes you materialize.

Your fingers come up to curl around his wrist. You cannot breathe and it fucking hurts, only dulled by the way that your cunt starts to flutter with how close he has gotten you to the edge. You hadn’t expected him to make you come.

With wide eyes, you look up at him in an attempt to tell him what is going on. He holds your gaze, pleased with himself as he drives into you, “I know, little girl, don’t have to tell me, I can feel you.”

You don’t have the guts to fight his harsh hand. You take it with tears forming in your eyes and the feeling of your pulse pounding in your neck where it’s fighting to get past his bruising grip.

“Say it, say that you love me, that you’re nothing without me,” he commands, but when you try to speak it is nothing but a squeak. He has his hand so tightly around your windpipe that you cannot get a word past your lips, drooling and shaking underneath his lack of mercy as your tongue feels too big for your mouth. He grins maniacally down at you as your vision blurs around the edges, “Made you speechless, did I? You filthy whore.”

You have always been familiar with the term putting someone’s lights out, but you’ve never understood the true meaning until Joel came into your life. You come hard, unfolding beneath his touch, with tears on your cheeks - and then there’s nothing.

Like a child falling asleep in a car seat, you have been carried up the stairs and into your bedroom. You sit up in your comfy bed and try to piece together how you have gotten here, and when you realize, it is because of your underwear and skirt messily and hurriedly sitting around your ankles.

You tug your bottom garments up again. There is something sticky between your legs, and you know, immediately. what it is when you start to shift your legs and are hit with soreness. Everything hurts, but nothing seems to be broken or damaged.

You glance to your right and spot the stack of bills that Joel had flashed earlier. It is neatly placed on the edge of the table along with a glass of water and some aspirin. You’ll take them soon, need to feel the ache a little while longer.

Instead of doing what is most comfortable (like taking the damn pills), you reach for the money instead. A delusional person would argue that they still feel warm, the temperature somewhere between newly printed and body heat. You take a few of them in your hand, and then you press them against your skin. The fact that you find it soothing is pathetic.

The wonder and innocence of being carried upstairs as a kid doesn’t translate into adulthood, you think, and then you lay down to fall into a deep sleep.

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