#Testament x Dizzy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

willowbelle · 1 month

Text

Wasted

❤︎ roronoa zoro x fem reader ❤︎

༉‧₊˚✧ (nsfw, afab!reader, 18+ only) ༉‧₊˚✧

cw: tipsy sex, dom!zoro, sub!/slightly bratty reader, zoro is a tease, zoro is commanding, teasing, edging, arm-pinning, thigh-riding, oral (blowjob), wall-sex, spanking, creampie.

summary: reader is a strawhat. zoro and reader hook up after a party on the sunny. ;) strawhats know what's up.

word count: ~4,400

tagging: @bby-deerling @eelnoise @3v37773 @laylaloves-ed @shamblespirate @lowkeycasanova @maddddstuff

Wasted

A celebration was in the works for your crew following a recent victory.

The horizon blushes with hues of orange and pink, its kiss with the sky mirrored by the gentle lapping of waves against The Sunny's hull.

Above, strings of shimmering lights twinkle like stars, casting a soft glow upon the gathering, as if the cosmos themselves had descended to partake in the festivities.

As the sun dips below the horizon, the deck of your ship transforms into a stage, bathed in the golden embrace of dusk, setting the scene for an evening of celebration

Amidst the joyous throng, laughter and music fill the air; liquor on your tongues.

Luffy whirls Chopper around in a playful dance, while Usopp and Franky share a merry jig, their spirits soaring in the jubilant atmosphere.

"Hey, Chopper, check this out! I'm gonna be the Pirate King of the dance floor, too!" Luffy exclaims with a wide grin, his enthusiasm contagious.

Chopper giggles, clinging to Luffy's arm as they whirl around. "You're doing great, Luffy! But try not to spin me too fast, I'm getting dizzy!"

Luffy chuckles, slowing down his movements slightly. "Sorry about that, Chopper! But hey, we've got to celebrate our victory properly, right? Dancing is the best way to do it!"

Chopper nods eagerly, his tiny hooves tapping along to the beat. "Absolutely, Captain! Let's keep dancing until the sun comes up!"

----

The ambiance is one of warmth, brightness, and sheer exuberance, a testament to the camaraderie and triumph that define the partygoers.

In the bustling midst of The Sunny's jubilant celebration, a lone figure perches at the makeshift bar, silently observing the lively scene unfolding before him. His eye is fixed on you, even amidst the swirling dance floor.

Your movements are graceful and carefree, dancing along with Nami and Robin as you giggle drunkenly.

As you sway and twirl with the girls, lost in the euphoria of the moment, you catch a glimpse of the swordsman seated at the bar. His eyes seem to linger on you, a silent observer amidst the festivities. You can't quite place the expression on his face – is it longing, admiration, or something else entirely?

Despite the haze of alcohol clouding your senses, you can't shake the feeling of being watched. The music pulses around you, the beat thrumming through your veins, but his steady gaze holds your attention like a lighthouse beacon cutting through the fog.

With each playful spin and merry laugh, you find yourself stealing glances in his direction. Zoro’s always been mysterious, but tonight, his stoic gaze feels… different.

“Too much to drink, y/n?” Nami giggles, “You keep looking at Zoro. He’s so boring, sitting there all alone,” she scoffs playfully.

“Oh shut up,” you giggle, playfully swatting at the navigator’s arm, “Says you! You can barely stand up straight!”

As you continue to dance with Nami, your mind can't help but wander back to the mysterious swordsman at the bar. Sensing your distraction, Robin gives you a knowing smile and gently nudges your arm.

"Lost in thought, dear?" Robin's voice is soft, barely audible above the music.

You nod sheepishly, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks. "I can't shake the feeling that someone's watching me," you confess, casting another glance in Zoro's direction.

Robin follows your gaze, her expression thoughtful. "Zoro does seem particularly focused tonight," she observes, her eyes flickering with curiosity. "But perhaps it's not boredom that keeps him seated there alone."

Her words pique your interest, and you turn to her with a quizzical expression. "What do you mean, Robin?"

Robin offers you a reassuring smile, her gaze steady. "I've learned that sometimes, silence speaks louder than words. Perhaps Zoro has something on his mind that he's not quite ready to share."

----

As the music swells and your drinking continues, your curiosity gets the better of you. Excusing yourself from the dance, you navigate through the lively crowd towards the lone figure at the bar.

With each step, the anticipation builds within you, mingling with the alcohol-induced courage coursing through your veins. As you draw closer, you notice the subtle tension in Zoro's frame, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as he meets your gaze.

With a light sway in your step and a playful giggle escaping your lips, you approach him, the warmth of the alcohol coloring your cheeks. "Hey there, lone swordsman,” you chirp, “Mind if i join ya?” you don’t even wait for his response before sliding onto the stool beside him with a less-than-graceful plop.

Zoro's expression softens, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he gestures to the stool, "Be my guest," he replies gruffly.

Zoro arches a brow, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Looks like someone's had a bit too much fun," he observes, amusement evident in his tone.

You giggle again, nodding enthusiastically. "Maybe just a little," you admit, feeling a sudden burst of boldness fueled by the alcohol coursing through your veins. "But I couldn't resist coming to chat with the mysterious Zoro."

A chuckle escapes Zoro's throat as he leans back against the bar, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of intrigue. "Mysterious, huh?" he muses, swirling the contents of his drink thoughtfully. "I like the sound of that."

Perching on the stool, you steal a moment to take in his rugged features, the dim light casting shadows across his face. There's a quiet strength about him, an aura of mystery that draws you in.

"Sooooo, what's with the solitary act?" you slur playfully, “Why don’t ‘cha join us out there?”

Zoro chuckles, a low rumble that reverberates through the air. "Not my scene," he grumbles, taking a sip from his drink. "Besides, someone's gotta keep watch."

"Fair enoughhhh," you reply, your words trailing off as you glance back towards the dance floor where the party shows no signs of slowing down. The music pounds in your ears, and you find yourself swaying to the rhythm even as you sit at the bar.

For a moment, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the music providing a soothing backdrop to your conversation. As you steal glances at Zoro, you can't help but wonder about the thoughts swirling behind his enigmatic gaze.

With a tipsy grin, you lean a little closer to Zoro, feeling a sudden surge of boldness. "You knowww," you begin, your words slightly slurred but filled with earnestness, "I've been thinking about you."

Zoro's eyebrows raise in mild surprise, his gaze shifting to meet yours with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "Oh, really?" he responds, his tone tinged with a hint of intrigue.

"Yeah," you continue, a playful lilt in your voice. "I mean, you're always off doing your own thing, being all mysterious and brooding... It's kinda hard not to think about you."

A ghost of a smile plays at the corners of Zoro's lips as he listens to your rambling confession. "Well, I suppose I should take that as a compliment," he remarks, his tone teasing yet genuine.

You nod enthusiastically, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his response. "Definitely," you affirm, a playful twinkle in your eye. "You've got this whole mysterious thing going on, and I gotta admit, it's pretty intriguing."

Zoro's gaze softens, a flicker of something unreadable dancing in his eyes. "I'm glad you think so," he replies, his voice quieter, now, more sincere.

"You've been thinking about me, too, right?" you tease, your words laced with playful skepticism. You flirtatiously twirl a strand of hair between your fingertips as you await his response.

Zoro's expression softens, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah," he admits before taking a sip of his drink, "But what makes you so sure of that?"

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, a warmth spreading through you at the thought of being on his mind. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised," you quip, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. "I mean, who wouldn't think about me?"

A low chuckle rumbles in Zoro's chest as he shakes his head in amusement. "You've got a point there," he concedes, his gaze intense as it lingers on you.

Emboldened by his admission, you take a sip of your drink before continuing. "It’s pretty obvious, you know, i've noticed all that staring," you toy, a hint of bashfulness creeping into your voice.

Zoro's eyebrows raise in mild surprise, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of curiosity and something deeper. "Have you now?" he teases back.

You nod, feeling a rush of boldness coursing through you. "Yeah," you reply, a flush creeping across your cheeks. "And I have to say, I kinda like it."

A flicker of something unreadable dances in Zoro's eyes as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Well, then," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, "Maybe we should do something about it."

As Zoro's breath grazes your skin, sending a surge of anticipation coursing through you. The air crackles with tension, each moment stretching out as you wait for his next move.

With a boldness you didn't know you possessed, you lean in closer, your lips hovering just inches from his. "I think that's a fantastic idea," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the soft music that still fills the air.

Zoro's gaze darkens with desire as he closes the remaining distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that ignites a fire deep within your core. In that moment, all doubts and reservations melt away, leaving only the raw, undeniable passion that burns between you.

With a shared breathless smile, Zoro gently takes your delicate hand in his calloused one, his touch causing sparks to erupt beneath your skin. "Come with me," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, “Too crowded here.”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest as you follow him through the dimly lit corridors of the ship. Each step brings you closer to an unknown destination, yet you trust in the magnetic pull drawing you towards him.

----

As you walk together in silence, the air thick with anticipation, you steal glances at Zoro, admiring the way his muscles flex beneath his fitted shirt and the intensity in his eyes. Despite the darkness of the corridor, you feel a warmth spreading through you, fueled by the promise of what's to come.

Finally, you arrive at Zoro's quarters, the door sliding open with a soft hiss. Stepping inside, you're enveloped in the intimate glow of candlelight, casting shadows that dance across the walls.

Before you can even catch your breath, Zoro presses you firmly against the wall, his strength evident in his forcefullness.

With a hunger that matches your own, Zoro leans in closer, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. It's as if he's staking his claim, pouring all his pent-up desire and longing into your lips.

“Mm,” he groans lowly into your mouth.

Filled with a surge of daring, you lift your hand to tangle your fingers in his hair, urging him closer. You revel in the intoxicating taste of him—a mingling of sea salt and booze—it electrifies your senses. His presence is overpowering, emitting a primal scent of sweat and masculinity, tempered only by a faint hint of weak cologne.

Your tongues collide in a fierce, passionate dance, each movement conveying a raw hunger and urgency that leaves you breathless. It's as if you're drowning, and his mouth is your lifeline.

You feel the corners of his lips curling into a knowing smirk at your desperation, and in a swift, decisive motion, he seizes the opportunity to grasp your wrists firmly. With a firm yet gentle touch, he maneuvers your arms above your head, pinning them against the wall as he presses his body against yours.

“Needy thing, aren’t ya?” he grins wolfishly, making heat pool in your core.

With a low growl, he leans in closer, his lips trailing a path of fire along your jawline and down to your neck.

Your head instinctively lulls back, giving him more access to your throat.

“Mm, Zoro,” you huff lustfully, “Want you so bad…”

As he continues to sloppily kiss down the column of your neck, he brings his right knee up to slot between your legs, making you gasp softly into his mouth.

“Come on, baby,” he groans.

Zoro's hands abandon their place around your wrists, descending to grip your breasts firmly. His calloused palms mold your soft flesh, eliciting a small squeak of delight from your lips.

“F-Fuck,” you curse softly.

As you continue to rock your hips against him, the heat between you intensifies, the tension building to an almost unbearable peak. His touch is urgent, his kisses hungry, as if he's determined to consume you entirely.

"Do you like that, y/n?" he growls against your neck, his voice thick with desire. "Losing yourself on me like this?"

Driven by an insatiable need, your hands find their way to his back, your nails digging into his muscles as you cling to him desperately.

"M-mhm," you whimper in agreement, unable to form coherent words as you lose your composure.

His grip on your breasts tightens, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. You can feel the primal urgency in his touch, the intensity of his desire mirrored in the way he ravishes you.

But suddenly, he stops, making you whine out at the loss of contact as he slowly pulls away from you.

His eyes are hungry as you looks you over. Iris moving up and down your form like a predator stalking its prey.

“Get on your knees,” he grumbles lustfully.

His command sends a shiver down your spine, and yet, you obey immediately, sinking to your knees before the swordsman.

As you lower yourself, you feel a surge of heat pooling in your core, the anticipation of what's to come making your heart pound within your chest.

Without a word, he reaches out, his fingers tangling in your hair as he gently guides your head forward.

You inhale sharply, your breath catching in your throat as you feel his warmth close in on you. And then, you do as you have been silently told, pressing your lips to his skin, kissing him with a fervor born of pure desire.

His arousal is evident; rock hard and pulsing beneath each press of your lips to his crotch.

His toned arms snake down, deftly tugging at his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers in one fluid motion. His cock springs free, bobbing against his muscular abdomen, a potent symbol of his arousal.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you take in the sight of the man before you. He’s magnificent. His cock is big, thick; looks heavy, even.

As your eyes roam over him, he notices your reaction and smirks, a self-satisfied chuckle escaping his lips. He takes your chin between his fingertips, tilting your gaze upwards to meet his.

"Don't drool now," he teases, his voice laced with smug confidence, knowing damn well how well-endowed he is.

You swallow hard, your cheeks flushing with desire as you meet his gaze. His confidence is intoxicating, his dominance igniting a primal hunger within you that demands to be sated.

With trembling hands, you reach out, unable to resist the temptation before you. Your fingers trace along the length of his cock, marveling at its girth and hardness.

He groans softly at your touch, his eyes darkening with desire as he watches you with hungry anticipation. Encouraged by his response, you wrap your hand around him, feeling the weight of him in your grasp.

"Fuck," he breathes out, his voice husky with need.

You continue to stroke him, your movements becoming more confident as you explore every inch of him eagerly.

His breaths grow heavier with each stroke, his hips involuntarily thrusting forward to meet your touch.

“Open your mouth,” he rasps.

You comply eagerly, parting your lips to accommodate him as he guides himself towards you.

He watches you intently, his gaze smoldering with lust as he revels in the sight of you submitting to him so willingly.

With a groan of satisfaction, he slides into your mouth, filling you completely with his hardness. You take him eagerly, savoring the taste of him, the weight of him on your tongue.

As he fills your mouth, you can't help but moan in pleasure, the sensation of him stretching you sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

"Mm," you moan around him, the sound vibrating against his skin and sending a shiver down his spine.

Encouraged by your response, he begins to move, thrusting gently into your mouth as he sets a steady rhythm.

“Fuck,” he groans, letting his head fall back, “Such a good girl, taking me so well.”

You revel in the praise that falls from his lips, a delicious affirmation of your obedience.

You can feel the thick tip of his cock meeting the back of your throat with each thrust, but you dismiss the discomfort, you just want to please him.

As you continue to take him deeper, you can feel the intensity of his desire growing, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he nears the edge.

But instead of welcoming his orgasm, Zoro catches your face in his hand, holding your jaw to make you halt your efforts.

"Stand up," he commands huskily, his voice thick with need as he withdraws from your mouth.

You giggle playfully, wiping the drool from your chin. "Jeez, Zoro," you tease, "On your knees, open your mouth, stand up,” you mock, “What's next? You want me to do a handstand?"

Zoro smirks, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Do you want me to fuck you or not?" he grumbles, his tone laced with desire and impatience.

Your playful demeanor melts away at the threat of his words, replaced by a surge of arousal. With a playful roll of your eyes, you comply, rising to your feet and turning to face him, anticipation thrumming through your veins as you await his next move.

With a firm yet gentle hand, he guides you towards the wall, pressing your chest-first against its cool surface. The contact sends a shiver of pleasure coursing through you, heightening the intensity of your arousal.

As you’re pressed breasts against the wall, you can feel the heat of his body against your back, his presence looming over you with an almost palpable intensity.

He presses himself against you, his hardness pressing into the small of your back.

You gasp at the contact, the heat of his arousal searing against your skin as you feel the full weight of his desire pressing into you. It's a delicious torment, the promise of pleasure mingling with the anticipation of what's to come.

"Feel how much I want you," Zoro's voice is low and husky against your ear as he presses himself closer, his breath hot against your skin.

You tremble at his words, “I-I want you, too, Zoro,” you whine.

He lets out a low growl of satisfaction, his hands trailing down your sides as he pulls your hips back to get you closer.

"Good," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear from behind, “Tell me how bad you want it, y/n, Or I won’t give it to you at all.”

Your breath hitches at his ultimatum. "I want it so bad, Zoro.” you whimper needily, “I need you to fuck me. Please."

You can’t see his face, but you swear you can feel his familiar smirk as he speaks against your ear, "That's what I wanted to hear," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

With a firm grip on his cock, he guides the tip to nudge at your weeping entrance, teasing you with the promise of entry. You gasp at the sensation, your breath catching in your throat as you await the intrusion.

He begins pressing himself inside you, groaning at the feeling of you stretching out around him. With each inch, he delves deeper, filling you completely with his throbbing hardness. The sensation is overwhelming, sending waves of both pleasure and pain coursing through your body.

“O-Oh, Zoro-!” you cry out weakly.

He leans forward, his breath hot against your skin as he bites along your nape,

"Sh-Shit," he curses through gritted teeth, his voice strained with pleasure, "So tight-" His words trail off into a guttural groan as he buries himself deep inside you, unable to resist the overwhelming sensation of being enveloped by your warmth.

You gasp at the feeling of him filling you completely, your body pulsating with pleasure as you surrender to the intoxicating intrusion.

His hand snakes up to grip the back of your neck as he finally begins to thrust in and out of you.

“Fuck-!” you whimper, your attempts to dig your nails into the wall futile against the onslaught of pleasure.

With a firm grip on your neck, he develops a steady rhythm, keeping you pressed against the wall as he moves in and out of you. Each thrust hits your sweet spot with precision, sending waves of ecstasy rippling through your body.

“Shit,” he groans, “You squeeze me so tight-”

A symphony of moans and gasps spills from your lips, mingling with his own guttural groans of pleasure. The room is quickly filled with the rhythmic sound of your bodies colliding, a passionate cacophony that echoes off the walls.

With a sudden motion, he pulls back slightly, his hand leaving your neck and landing firmly on your exposed ass, delivering a sharp spank that sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through you.

You gasp at the sudden sensation, your body instinctively arching towards him, craving more of the delicious sting. The impact leaves a tingling warmth in its wake, heightening the intensity of your arousal.

"Zoro," you whimper, your voice a mixture of pleasure and desire, your nails digging into the wall as you brace yourself for more.

Encouraged by your response, he delivers another spank, each strike awakening a primal hunger within you.

With each spank, he relishes in the way your body reacts, the way you gasp and arch towards him, begging for more.

"Such a slut for me," he growls, "You like it rough, don't you?"

You whimper in response, unable to form coherent words as pleasure courses through you, mingling with the sting of his touch.

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, "Let me hear how much you enjoy it."

You moan in response, the sensation of his hand against your skin driving you to the edge of ecstasy.

The pace of his thrusts never falters as he grants you with more delicious spanks.

He’s thrusting rougher, now, impressed with how much you can take.

"You take me so good, y/n," he groans, his voice strained with desire and admiration. The praise only fuels your arousal further, spurring you on as you both chase the heights of pleasure together.

“Th-Thank you, Zoro,” you whimper weakly, “You fuck me so good-”

You're both teetering on the brink of release as he continues moving in and out of you, the tension coiling tighter with each passing moment. His breath comes in ragged gasps against your ear, matching the rhythm of your moans as you both surrender to the pleasure of the moment.

"Fuck, y/n," he groans, his voice strained with desire, "I'm so close..."

You whimper in response, the pleasure overwhelming as you feel the heat building deep within you. With each thrust, you edge closer and closer to the pinnacle of ecstasy.

With a final, desperate thrust, you both topple over the edge of ecstasy. Zoro groans as he spills inside you, unapologetically painting your insides white.

And with that, the tension that had been coiling within your lower tummy finally snaps, releasing a torrent of pleasure that sends shockwaves through your veins and straight to your head. Colors explode beneath your eyelids as you're consumed by the intensity of your climax, every nerve ending ablaze with sensation.

In that moment, there's only the two of you, engulfed throes of pleasure.

----

The following morning, as the golden rays of sunlight filter through the windows of the ship, you and Zoro emerge from his quarters, your steps in sync as you walk side by side. There's a subtle ease in the air between you, a silent understanding of the shared intimacy that had transpired between you the night before.

As you enter the dining room, the crew's eyes dart up from their breakfast plates, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. Sanji's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips, while Nami's eyes sparkle with mischief as she exchanges a glance with Robin.

Nami's mischievous grin widens as she leans back in her chair, her eyes flickering between you and Zoro. "Sounds like you two had fun last night," she quips, her tone dripping with playful innuendo.

You feel a flush creep up your cheeks at her teasing remark, but before you can respond, Zoro interjects with his usual gruff demeanor. "Mind your own business, navigator," he retorts, though there's a faint hint of amusement in his voice.

Luffy, ever oblivious to subtleties, beams at the two of you, his mouth already full of food. "Morning, guys! Did you sleep well?" he chirps, completely unaware of the implications of his question.

You exchange a glance with Zoro, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes as you both share a silent understanding. With a shrug, Zoro responds in his typical gruff manner, "Like a log."

967 notes · View notes

girlgenius1111 · 3 months

Text

shining just for you

alexia + barça & putellas!reader

r only gets worse. alexia gets frustrated. a much needed conversation is attempted.

-----

Your meeting with the trainers at Barça the next day did not go at all how you hoped. They had squashed all of your attempts to suggest faster ways to move your recovery along. They kept saying that there was no way to heal broken bones faster, and when you asked if you had to wait until they were fully healed to get back on the pitch, they looked at you like you'd lost your mind. Maybe you had.

The part that really pissed you off was that they said you could absolutely not bear any weight on your ankle for at least the first month. That meant at least 1 month of crutches, and of staying at Alexia's because you couldn't climb the stairs to your apartment. It seemed ridiculous to you; you had the moon boot on, of course you could walk on it.

It was with this in mind that you exited the medical center, crutching back over to the main training building. You were supposed to go find your sister in the gym and update her on what the physios had said, but you found that you weren't really in the mood. You didn't need to hear her upbeat spin on this. You knew you would cry, and you didn't need to see the disappointed look on her face when she realized how truly weak you really were.

This was all so idiotic. Your ankle didn't even hurt that much. How bad could the break be, really? You'd seen the x-rays, sure, but it hadn't look that bad. It was a true testament to how little you cared for your body at this point, as you dropped your crutches inside the locker room, and began pacing the hallway just outside. No one was around to see, which you were glad for, because they'd stop you.

You had a point to prove, though. Even as each step was excruciating, you pushed on, pacing until you felt like you were going to throw up from the pain. It made you dizzy, and you leaned against the wall, sliding down it to sit. You were in the middle of the hall, your crutches 10 meters away. Your head spun, your ankle killed, and you felt a moment of clarity.

What were you doing? This, of all things, was not going to speed up the healing process. Were you really so unbelievably stupid to walk on a completely broken ankle, just because you weren't willing to accept 4 months off the pitch?

You felt completely worthless. You couldn't even be injured right. And now, you would have to wait here for your teammates to return from training, until they would find you, face pale and tearstained. You couldn't get up without help. You desperately tried to think of an excuse, some reason that you would be in the middle of the hall without your crutches.

Before one could come to you, though, you heard your name shouted from the direction of the gym. It was the last person you wanted to hear from, last person you wanted to see. At the same time, a part of you pleaded with yourself to allow you to fall into your sister's arms, let her hold you together when you couldn't do it yourself.

You'd done that last night. It hadn't made you feel better. So, instead, you looked up to meet the shocked face of your sister, a defiant look etching itself across your features. When in doubt, anger seemed to be the way you went.

"What the hell are you doing?" Alexia asked, crouching down in front of you. She reached a hand out, feeling your face, which you knew must be hot. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, your foot and ankle most of all.

"I was just walking." You said shortly.

Alexia's eyebrows raised. "Just walking? Without your crutches? Did the doctor tell you that was okay?"

You looked away from her, clenching your jaw tight.

"Hey! Did the doctor tell you that was okay?" Alexia repeated, forcing you to look back at her.

"No." You admitted, knowing Alexia would check either way.

Alexia' face grew very red, and she opened her mouth to start talking several times, before she shook her head, and stalked off to the locker room. She returned shortly after with your crutches, wordlessly handing them out to you.

"We're going home." She said. You allowed her to help you to your feet, waiting until you were standing to argue.

"No, Ale you have training, I can-"

"No. You can't just wait for me, clearly. You aren't responsible enough for me to leave you on your own while you have a broken ankle. I don't know what you're thinking, I don't know what is going on with you right now, but you need to cut it out and pull it together. This is not how I taught you to act. Acting like you know better than the doctors and the physios, doing whatever the hell you want."

Alexia was seething, clearly. Completely and totally furious with you. And even though you knew she was right, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anger inside of yourself. You were just trying to be what she asked of you, and now she was mad at you for it?

"Alexia, I don't need a fucking lecture from you right now. Just go back to training, I'll wait in the locker room."

"Do not walk away from me." Alexia scowled, grabbing your wrist to stop you. "Are you really so ungrateful of everything I've done for you, that you're willing to throw it all away by completely fucking your ankle? Because 4 months seems like a long time to be away from the pitch? It's time to grow up. An injury is not the end of the world, and you have to stop moping around and trying to find the easy way out of this."

"Oh right, because you didn't do any moping when you did your ACL. Yeah, Alexia, you were the picture of strength and stability then, weren't you?" You sneered, wrenching your hand out of her grip.

Alexia clenched her hands into fists, and released them, as if she was trying to calm herself down. "You are so immature," She started, taking a step closer to you.

"Hey!" Irene shouted from down the hall. The team was filtering in from training, and a bunch of the younger players had stopped dead in their tracks, watching the argument unfold. Irene and Marta pushed their way through, stepping in between the two of you.

"Alexia, walk away." Marta instructed.

"She was-"

"-Deal with it later. Walk away now, before you say something you regret." Marta interrupted, guiding Alexia back to the gym she'd come from.

It was too late. Both of you had already said things you now regretted. Alexia was angry, as she walked away. But you were devastated, beyond words. It was like Alexia had agreed with every awful thought you had about yourself. It wasn't intentional from her, she was just upset that you were so careless with yourself. She hadn't meant any of it, just like she knew you hadn't meant what you said to her.

Irene watched carefully as you leaned backwards against the wall, lip wobbling dangerously. "Come on, pequeña. Let's go somewhere else."

"I want to go home." You mumbled, shrugging out from under Irene's hand. You were practically shaking at the effort it was taking you not to fall apart completely.

"Your sister drove you?” Irene asked. You nodded, jaw tightening. "Okay, go wait in the car. Ale will come take you home when she's calmer."

You didn't have much choice, so you nodded, crutching down the hall, away from your onlooking teammates, past where Alexia stood, talking in hushed tones with Marta, out the door and into the car.

You didn't want to go home, not really. Not to your apartment, or to Alexia's. Not even to your mom's house. You didn't want to do anything, or be anywhere. You were so exhausted, so hurt. You just wanted it all to stop.

You were strong, you reminded yourself. You were strong enough not to break. You made it to the car, slumping into the passenger seat and allowing yourself to take a few ragged breaths. You were fine. Everything was fine. You just needed to get home, and into bed, where you could cry and no one would hear.

Alexia joined you in the car 10 minutes later, but the way she threw the car in reverse and backed out of the spot without so much as a glance towards you told you that she was still mad. Well, so were you.

-----

Alexia helped you in through the front door, holding tight to the back of your shirt as you crutched inside, like you were going to somehow run away from her.

"What happened?" Olga asked, taking in the stormy expressions on both you and your sister's faces.

"Pequeña thinks she knows better than the doctors, and decided to dump her crutches and walk without them." Alexia said shortly, all but shoving you down onto the couch. "Stay there." She directed, stomping off into the kitchen to get you some ice.

Olga watched her go, before slowly turning to you. She walked over to the couch, where you were sitting, glaring at the table in front of you. Inspecting you closely, Olga sighed deeply, before speaking.

"She said something, didn't she? Something she shouldn't have?" That was the only logical explanation Olga could reach; under Alexia's fury, her girlfriend knew she felt guilty. And the look on your face, one also of anger, was hiding how upset you really were.

You didn't answer her, but your arms crossed over your chest, and you blinked rapidly, clearly fighting off tears. Olga pulled out her phone, shooting off a text, before rising to intercept Alexia as she re entered the living room. Olga steered her into the chair opposite you, taking the ice pack and handing it to you.

"Your mom is going to call in a few minutes, alright? And whatever is going on here, you're going to figure it out."

"Alba's coming to get me. I'm going to stay with her." You said quietly, picking at your nails to avoid looking at your sister. She looked absolutely crestfallen. Then, her expression tightened, and her defensive exterior returned.

"You are not going anywhere. Tell Alba to turn around and go home."

"No. I can go where I want." You seethed, finally looking up at her. She was surprised by the fire in your eyes, the anger practically radiating off of you. Alexia opened her mouth, prepared to respond, but Olga stepped in between the two of you, once again cooling the incoming conflict.

"Alexia, go take a walk."

Alexia was really tired of people telling her to take a walk. She wanted to deal with this, now. She wanted to take you by the shoulders and shake you, beg you to tell her why you were so upset.

"No, I-"

"Go. While you're gone, your sister is going to talk to your mom, and then you two can sit down and have a conversation like adults. Nena, tell Alba not to come yet. If you still want to leave after dinner, fine, but don't make a rash decision when you're already upset."

You both respected Olga too much to really argue with her. Alexia marched out the door, barely stopping to get her keys, while you begrudgingly pulled your phone out, texting Alba. Once you'd done that, the phone rang in your hands, and you answered, the soothing, comforting voice of your mother filling your ears.

-----

When Alexia came back 20 minutes later, she was much calmer, and prepared to apologize to you, even if it felt like she was ripping one of her limbs off every time she had to tell you she was sorry about something.

You were calmer too, sitting on the couch and talking quietly with your mom. You didn't look at Alexia when she walked in, but you didn't tell her to go away, either, even when she came and sat on the couch next to you.

"Ale's here." You said, turning on speaker phone.

"Alexia Putellas Segura." Her mother's scolding made her flinch, even over the phone. "You be nice to your sister, and you stop pushing her so hard before she breaks."

The first part made sense to her. The second, not so much. She was TRYING to get you to slow down, and listen to the doctors. How was that pushing you? The way you flushed red, and looked away from her only confused Alexia more. She didn't quite feel like arguing with her mother, though, not after the day she'd had.

"Okay, mom." Alexia promised, looking pointedly at you.

"And y/n. You listen to your sister. And you start taking care of yourself. No one will love you any less if you heal in 4 months, or 6 months, or a year. Don't you make me fly back there."

The funny thing was, you hadn't even told your mom what was going on with you. She just knew, from only a few minutes talking to you, what was wrong, and exactly what you needed to hear. You didn't really need to hear it from her, though; you needed your sister to say it, more than anything. At the same time, you'd never admit that.

"Okay mom." You said, echoing your sister's previous words.

With that, she warned you both to behave, before hanging up.

Alexia poked you in the side, having grown very tired of fighting with you. "She's right. You should listen to me. You'll only need more than 4 months if I break your other ankle, though."

Her attempt at making a joke fell flat, and she watched you tense up next to her. Until that point, she thought that what her mother had said to you was common sense; of course they'd love you if you didn't heal fast. Why would you possibly think otherwise. Alexia was starting to notice, though, that whenever the time frame of your injury was brought up, you looked like you were going to be sick. She opened her mouth, prepared to call you on it, when Olga cleared her throat from the doorway.

"It's Alba, and it's for you." She said, holding the phone out towards Alexia. With one last look in your direction, the blonde rose, grabbing the phone out of her girlfriends hand, instructing her to keep an eye on you, and heading into the bedroom.

"Are you the biggest idiot in the world?" Alba chided, a rather unusual tone of voice for the normally very silly sister to be taking.

"Hi, Alba. I'm fine, thank you for asking."

"Cut the shit, Alexia, seriously. What were you thinking?"

"It would make this phone call so much more fun if you would explain what the hell you're talking about." Alexia threw back, flopping down onto her bed. Honestly, the pair of you. She wished her mother was in town so she didn't have to deal with you both every second of every day.

"Calling our sister irresponsible and ungrateful? Do you not see how much she's struggling?"

Alexia scowled, annoyed that you told on her. "She was being an idiot. And I am not blind, I know she's having a hard time. I'm trying to help, but she won't let me."

"How are you trying to help?" Alba asked, softening just slightly at the frustration in her older sister's tone.

"I keep telling her she'll be back in no time, that 4 months is not a concrete timeframe, and that she's strong. I know she can do it, and she knows too. I don't understand what's wrong with her."

"Alexia." Alba sighed. "Everything you just said is horrible. Not at all what she needs to hear from you right now."

"How?! I'm being encouraging."

"No, you're putting even more pressure on her."

"Why does everyone keep saying that? I don't put pressure on her, definitely not more than she can take."

"Ale, she's not taking it. She's falling apart."

"Oh, and that's my fault? If she has a problem, she should communicate it to me like an adult. I'm tired of her acting like a child." Alexia wasn't mad at you, not really. She was angry with herself, for not seeing whatever was going on sooner. For making you so upset with her. She used to fight the other kids when they made you cry, and now she was the reason you were valiantly fighting back tears, and she didn't even know why.

Alba spoke up then, after a moment of silence. "You need to talk to her. You're not going to listen to me. I hope you listen to her. And, Ale? She's only 20. She's doing her best, cut her some slack."

Alba hung up before Alexia could respond. She groaned, tossing her phone off the bed, before walking back out towards the living room. She froze, hearing you talking to her girlfriend through tears.

"I can't Olga, she'd be so disappointed in me."

"No, pequeña, she won't. I know you feel like she cares more about your football than you, but I promise, cariño, that is not true. She doesn't know you feel this way, and she needs to. So she can prove to you that you're wrong."

"What if I'm not wrong? What if she hates me?" You cried.

Alexia couldn't hold herself back any longer, practically falling into the room with how fast she moved to get to you. She didn't try to pretend she hadn't been eavesdropping. She simply took the seat Olga stood from, sitting down carefully next to you.

You looked up at her, a horrified look on your face at the realization that she'd heard everything you'd just said.

"Talk to me, nena. Please." Alexia was practically begging you.

The conflict was clear on your face; Alexia watched as you debated whether to shake her off and leave the room, or to finally tell her what was going on. It was breaking her heart, that you didn't immediately trust her. She knew she'd messed up today, but whatever was going on clearly ran so much deeper; she must have messed up a long, long time ago.

When you opened your mouth to answer her, Alexia wasn't sure if your words would fracture the relationship further, a relationship that was already sitting precariously, even if she hadn't noticed it, or if you were going to let her in. You weren't quite sure either.

-----

feeling CRUEL today. it is Friday though, so if everyone is extra nice to me, MAYBE you'll get part 3 later tonight. Maybe.

477 notes · View notes

sameschmidtdiffname · 2 months

Note

heyyyy can I pls req something where Mike tries to make it up to the reader after he says something wrong in their 1st fight as a couple? like “I don’t want to lose you” as an apology and they get back together or something along those lines? tysm I really enjoy ur work :))

But of course!!!

Wanting, Waiting

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: Overworked and underfed, you'll go to sleep once some decent work is complete. However, a late night turns into a day long fight.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no gender specific pronouns for Reader, pre-established relationship, argument, cursing, Reader and Mike both got some shit going on, hints of an eating disorder, overworking, hurt/comfort, crying, mentions of: suicide/death, depression, drugging, and kidnapping. Vulnerability is gross.

Notes: 'Slip' walked so this could run full speed into a brick wall. I feel as though I may have redeemed myself.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

This page is mocking me.

The hour is late. I stopped checking the clock around 2:00 A.M., and there's a cup of cold coffee right next to me on this table, several rings on the inside from where the coffee had been left sitting far too long. It's cheap, the flavor sticking to my teeth in a way that settles my lips into a slight grimace as I try to convince my hand to move my pen across the just as cheap notebook paper that has been sitting in front of me since I came home.

Come on. It's words. What the fuck is hard about this?

'It's not hard if you can actually get your head out of your ass and do something,' I think to myself. Not helping.

I have an irritating collection of drafts. Oh yes, I can start them and I can certainly plan out the works before me. But actually writing is somehow impossible, and even though I can feel how thick the block is in my mind, preventing me from communicating my feelings properly, I just can't get break myself out of it.

Come on. Finish one draft. Then everything will click together for the rest.

For the past few weeks it's been just like this. Come home, sit down with projects, and try. But no matter what I do, I just can't focus. It's as though my head simply won't allow it. And this house, quite frankly, isn't helping. It's admittedly unsettling atmosphere, the loud noises born from nothing. It's as though I can feel the weight of the dead that used to sit at the same glass table as I watching me over my shoulder, pressing their non-existent weight against me, making my chest tight with pressure I cannot voice because that's not fair to the ones still here truly haunted by their presence. I'm just a guest who overextends their stay, quite frankly.

Just a page. Just write a page and you can get up for a moment. Ignore how loud the fridge is at something clunks inside of it.

A page. Get a page. Come on, you imbecile, how hard is a fucking pa-

"I thought we talked about this."

It's a testament to my mental state how high I manage to jump in my chair, my tired and over-caffinated heart set off to make me dizzy with over exertion from fear, turning to see who has come to voice their thoughts and damn us both with them.

"Mike," I sigh. I place a hand on my chest, rubbing slightly at the spot where I feel my heart pounding against my sore ribs. "Don't do that."

"Have you slept at all?" Mike asks disapprovingly. His arms are crossed against his chest, heavy bags under his eyes from another night of restless dreams. He can't sleep, I won't sleep. If he'd allow it, we could actually get shit done this time of day.

"A little," I lie. He's just worried. About everything. He always is, which at first was something I loved about him. And usually I still do. It's an admirable trait, to care about someone and love them so much it's only natural to fret over them, to check and make sure they're taken care of properly.

Except it makes me feel guilty.

"Oh yeah? What time?" He asks, narrowing his sleep swollen eyes at me.

Details. Fuck.

"Ah, uh- I don't know, I wasn't looking at the clock," I say sheepishly, trying to flash a disarming smile and make my own bags look like ones of bare minimum rest instead of self neglect. Mike's jaw tightens slightly.

"Oh?" He says in a dull voice that is not raised, yet managed to ring throughout the room nonetheless.

I hum affirmatively, pressing my lips together and fiddling with the cheap pen in my hands, glancing down at it in an attempt at trying not to give myself away.

"Yeah, I don't know. Just like, laid my head on the book and... y'know... drifted off for a couple hours," I try to say casually.

"Ah," he says as though that were enough, leaning now against the doorframe of the hallway, looking at the other wall as though the paint were interesting. "How long after I went to bed, do you think?"

Keep your breathing even. He can smell fear. "Like, a couple," I answer with a shrug.

"Or, like, not at all," he says, turning his head back to stare down at me with a glare.

"I slept," I insist.

"Bullshit. You give me unnecessary detail about your shits post mexican take-out, but you can't tell me what time you fell asleep?" He says accusingly.

"I was asleep! I'm sorry, do you want me to lie and give some time because you need it for some reason?" I ask evenly, shrugging as though to ask what he'd like me to say, blinking at him and adding a tired tinge of a croak to my voice to match his.

"I'm sorry?" He asks, eyes still in narrow slits yet somehow widening slightly, his leg uncrossing from over the other and planting firmly on the floor as he stands straight.

He's not that tall. Kinda short. But he looks much bigger when mad. Kinda like an iguana. I told him that one time and got bit. Jokingly, of course. It's not like he'd just reach over and sna- You know what? Irrelevant.

"I'm just saying," I say, starting to turn back to my notebook as though the conversation were finished.

"No-no, I'd like to hear that again," he says. I can hear his footsteps pad against the flat, tan carpet, my shoulders stiffening slightly as I train my decreasingly neutral eyes on the wrinkled, lined paper in front of me. "I liked the part where you made me sound like some insecure teenager for calling you out on your shit. Very original."

My lips press into a thin line, my grip on my pen tightening slightly.

"It's not that serious, Mikey-"

"Don't bullshit me, and don't use some cheap nickname as a cop out via sympathy," Mike snaps, standing now on the opposite side of the table, pressing his hands now against the glass surface that dirties so easily. Trust me, we've had to clean some prints off of it.

There's a line, and at some point I'm going to cross it. The problem is it's hidden under mental sand that makes me unclear of exactly where it is.

"Michael-"

"That's formal," he says, leaning forward on the table, his tone the same as an interrogating mother just waiting for the moment where no one will blame her for finally tearing you to shreds for what you've said to her outwardly innocent statements. A trap.

"I'm sorry, I thought you didn't like cheap nicknames?" I say, fighting the irritation in my voice, barely managing to remain even as I click my pen to begin writing.

"What's wrong with just Mike?" He asks. He reaches across the table, placing all five of his fingertips on my paper firmly and dragging it back across the table towards him, withholding it from me.

"Would you like me to use just Mike?" I ask.

"I'd like you to make eye contact while you lie through your fucken teeth," he says calmly, not moving as he continues to stare me down.

"Okay, Mike. And what exactly does my sleep schedule mean to you?" I ask slowly, trailing my eyes from his hand, slowly up his arm with pronounced veins and muscles, to the white cotton shirt that was two sizes too large and usually what he wore to sleep in, until I meet his dark and slightly hateful eyes.

"We had a conversation," he starts.

"A conversation," I repeat.

"About a month ago, do you remember?" He asks, cocking his head slightly in that way it does when we both know I'm not going to dare to answer with anything other than he wants.

"You ha-"

"I had a concern," he interrupts me, now looking down at the notebook and studying it as though it were a piece of fine art. "Which involved how absolutely awful your ability is to take care of yourself properly."

"Mike-"

"Shut. Up." Mike says with disturbing calmness. "I'm talking."

Fine.

"It's fucking rude."

Not saying it's not.

"Like your attitude when I try to just help you because clearly, you can't help yourself," he says, now slapping down the notebook to gesture at me as though it were obvious why he was concerned.

I could speak. I'd like to. And he gives me a long enough silence I could. But instead I decide I will simply give him the floor.

"No opinion on this?" He asks shortly.

"No," I say with a dismissive shrug. "You seem to have them for me."

Mike laughs at this statement, and if the sparkle in his eyes didn't seem to have the same dull shine as the glass table between us I'd feel a bit better about it. But I think there's a six foot hole in the backyard I just signed a lease on that makes his disturbingly convincing smile much more worrisome.

"You're funny," he says affectationately. "Get up."

"What?" I ask, blinking.

"Are you deaf now? Up," he says in irritation, beginning to cross back around the table. "This isn't a negotiation."

Before I can speak his hands dig in under my armpits, roughly pulling me to stand and bringing me close to his chest. I should have energy to fight back, I've only been sitting after all. But a physical confrontation would be too loud, first of all. Abby is asleep in her room, and I don't want to make a scene to wake the poor child. Number two, my bones are sore, my head is aching and I generally just do not feel well enough to protest. Physically.

"Put me down, you son of a bitch!"

Verbally, I'm fine.

"You're going to bed, that's final!"

"I have twelve drafts due that I have to get done or else this project-"

"You have four hours of sleep you can get before you have to take your candy ass to work in the fucken morning, or else I'm gonna beat it into you," he hisses directly in my ear, his breath cold and loud so close to me. Jesus, fuck. What did his parents feed him as a child? It shouldn't be this easy for him.

"Oh, I don't do what you want and now you threaten physical violence. Very mature," I mock, reaching out to grip the doorframe of Mike's bedroom, purely to piss him off.

"Save me the dramatics," he snaps in a whisper, wrapping one arm tighter around my waist and using the other to bat my hands away from the frame. I can tell he's genuinely trying not to hurt me, his grip on one wrist firm but careful.

"Just let me write one page," I try.

"That's what you said last night," he says, still trying to pull my hand away. My nails have dug into the frame, making it slightly harder. I can sense his irritation growing. "You got two hours of sleep."

"That's not going to kill me," I argue.

"You haven't slept for more than two hours in a week," he says.

One nail breaks against the frame, making me lose my grip and sending pain down my arm from the awkward angle at which the pressure had snapped it off. I wince slightly, which gives Mike slight pause as he checks my hand, but decides I'm alright before he begins dragging me towards the bed in earnest.

"Why is it so hard for you to just take care of yourself?" Mike asks in frustration.

"I take care of myself!" I say defensively. Mike drops me onto the bed, standing in front of me to prevent any new attempts at escape.

"No, you don't," he says, quiet but firm. "You sit and stare at your notebook and you don't do anything else if you can help it. You sleep for two hours, you go to work, you hardly eat, you don't have energy anymore." Mike's hands are planted firmly on his hips, his nostrils flailing as he tries to take collected, calm breaths. "I care about you. Why can't you?"

"Michael-"

"Stop!" Mike snaps, groaning and turning away from me with a sharp spin on his heel. He buries his hands in his hair in frustration, now pacing between the bed and the door, quietly shutting it so we can argue in peace.

"Why are you so upset?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"Because I don't want to see you live like this. I am concerned and every time I bring it up you dismiss me, you joke, you don't care and I hate that," Mike says, temporarily stopped in his tracks to point at me as he seethes. "I'm watching you waste away and you know what? I'm starting to think part of you likes it."

"Excuse me?" I say, astounded. I cross my arms in front of my chest, cocking my head at him in a way to say 'I dare you to repeat that.'

"You heard me," Mike says, taking a step towards me. "It's like you cannot for one iota of a second conceive of some world where taking care of yourself is a good use of your time. You work, and work until you've burned yourself out so horribly you rot in bed for a month. And unless you're staying here, I hear nothing from you. Not a call, not a fuck you or whatever. It's like you're punishing yourself."

"Now who's being dramatic?" I say.

"See? I can't even point this out without you getting defensive, which just shows you know you're in the wrong!" Mike turns away from me once more, resuming his path of restless walking.

"Why do you even care?" I ask genuinely. This makes him pause again, his glare once more returning to me as he mentally questions my intelligence.

"You know what, I don't know!" Mike snaps, his voice gaining volume. "You are insistent in this fucking- slow method suicide and I'm trying to help you, but you won't let me!"

"I never asked you to care," I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"I never asked to care!" Mike nearly shouts, leaning in close to my face and sneering at me.

This breaks the tension.

His face falls as soon as the words are out of his mouth, his eyes widening slightly like my own eyes. This comment shouldn't really sting. I shouldn't let it. But it does. And for a moment, I do. And he sees that clearly.

"... oh," I say softly, my arms relaxing and shoulders sagging ever so slightly as I drop his gaze, trying to shut off my emotions before they're obvious.

"I'm sorry," Mike says quickly, stumbling to his knees in front of me. "I didn't mean that-"

"It's fine," I say, trying to remain as blank as my pages on the kitchen table.

"I just said it to be hurtful," Mike says quickly, his hand reaching up to cup my face. I take it away, turning my head to the side slightly. There's a new chill in the air, one I can feel seizing my chest.

"You weren't," I say. "I'm going to sleep."

"Please, I don't want-"

"I'm going to sleep," I say forcefully, shoving him away and turning to begin undressing from my work clothes that I still wore. Mike is silent behind me, probably thinking, and I'm close to not being able to hold myself together anymore.

"Get out!" I snap, flinging my shirt at him in a rage and beginning to stand from the bed to chase him out. He doesn't need anymore prompt, quickly scurrying out from the room to wherever it is he'll sleep now. Probably on the couch even though there's another room down the hall. A self induced punishment. Knowing him he probably won't even allow himself a blanket or pillow, feeling the cold air fitting for his selfishness.

Good.

When I wake that morning, I can smell breakfast in the air. My stomach hurts from skipping meals, but I don't want to eat. First of all, I haven't worked for a meal. There's still plenty to be done with my drafts. And food is a good encouragement to keep working. Second, I didn't ask him to care. And he didn't ask for it either. There probably isn't enough for me, and if there is, he and Abby can debate between the two who will have it. I need to shower.

I take forever washing myself. If that's what you want to call it. It was moreso standing under hot water, letting it run cold until I couldn't stand it anymore and hoping my deodorant is able to do some heavy lifting today. I barely have enough time to get to work, passing silently by Mike and not turning when he calls my name, walking out the door as fast as I can without running.

He follows me outside, something shaking in a bag behind me. When I finally open my car door I'm forced to have my gaze in his direction, his body between the door frame and my car door, presenting me with a bag of lunch.

"Please eat," he begs, placing the bag in my lap unceremoniously and then quickly stepping away and shutting the door himself.

There's a small moment where he and I just share at each other through the glass, time slipping away without notice. He hasn't slept, he'll be late for work if he doesn't get dressed soon, and the bag on top of my thighs is warm. Fresh. A petty part of me wants to roll down my window and throw away the meal, back out of the drive way and let that fester in his mind out of hate. He thinks words can hurt? Actions are so much worse.

But there's something in his eyes. Defeated, resigned. Childlike is almost the word I could use. In front of my car is the 12 year old boy who tried to chase down his brother, the 18 year old who decided to sacrifice his life raising his little sister while saying goodbye to his parents, and the 27 year old man who's just trying to keep everything together.

I don't know what to say to this child. Or to the man.

So, with the turn of my key in the ignition, I don't.

It's late when I come home. When the manager had asked me to stay late I almost called Mike to break the silence and tell him this. But there was still a part of me that didn't care whether or not he knew. Really, I didn't have to return home tonight. I could go back to my apartment and just let him rot in bed the way he claims I do. How could he say such a thing, anyways? I rot in bed? What about the days I've walked into the house and he hasn't slept all week, where he's claiming he's trying to kick his medication and he'll get the hang of it soon. Where his sister is eating every meal almost burnt because he can't think straight enough to remember time. Where I've had to coax, beg, demand of him that he just takes a pill because he's laying on the side of the bed, small and curled in on himself, dead eyed and obviously tired but still not sleeping. One time I slipped it into his food. And I felt awful. Do not think for a moment I wanted to do that. There was a betrayel in his eyes when sleep began to overtake him. I hoped he wouldn't notice, but he must've. Some tell in the drugs effect that made him aware his rest was not voluntary. But I didn't care. I stroked his hair through the night, and I'll do it again. He could hate me however long he needed to, he just needed sleep first.

The irony still hasn't struck me when I walk through the door of his house, well past dinner, Abby in the bath. The door was left unlocked, which is unusual for this time of night. Mike jumps from the couch the minute I open the door, standing with his hands by his side anxiously pulling at the edge of his oversized sweater.

Everything's oversized with him. The thought occurs to me that his father was slightly bigger.

"Don't leave me," he says quietly, his voice small and pathetic like him. But I don't say that with hate.

"I just got home," I say. "Be a bit odd to leave again."

I try a smile, but it's artificial and we both know it's only for his comfort. It doesn't touch him, his eyes glassy and lips slightly parted the same way a child's is when they're trying to breathe as their sinuses spring to life in wake of forming tears.

"I didn't mean it," he says, still standing in the same place. If I was a better person I'd probably run to him. But I'm not.

If I were a better person, I'd say I believe him. But I don't. And suddenly my throat is swollen with hurt, my own bottom lip is sticking out and now we're both trying not to cry because this is so overly taxing. We're adults but emotions are hard. Vulnerability is hard. It is a damnation that we both detest, both avoid. In better states we would joke about this, would laugh and tease the other for not having the emotional capability to voice our thoughts. But we're not. So we don't. And now we're crying openly in the off-putting, attempted to look cozy living room that we can never fully relax in.

"I don't wanna lose you," he says between small hiccups, hands now balled into fists that he buries under opposite armpits, shifting his weight so that he doesn't look so small. His glances bounce between me and the hallway table, never fixing on either of us as he tries to state his mind like an adult. "I've barely had you."

In my heart there has been a constant ache, hurt flowing and pumping through my veins like the blood that ran cold last night at his hurtful words. His apologetic words make the ache somehow worse.

"I don't mean to be a burden to you," I say softly, feeling a small, stray tear break the fluid barrier of my waterline to race down my cheek, allowing a pathway to the fatter drops that threaten to quickly follow.

Mike's face shifts, stepping towards me and holding out his arms.

"No, never," he says just as soft, trying to comfort me. I freeze as he approaches, my body stiffening as I try to swallow the lump and convince myself that I can survive his touch. His touch that I normally crave the moment I'm around him, that I seek in the dark of night even when the bed is overheating, that I'd go insane without.

"I've never asked you to care," I say, voice breaking and tears rolling freely now.

"I know," he says into my neck, which is wetting as he shakes around me, his grasp firm and careless of whether or not it's too much.

"I don't mean to cause problems. I just...." I don't know what I mean, how I wish to finish the statement. If I was clever, I could. If I was clever, I wouldn't even be in this problem to begin with.

"I'm just scared," he chokes out, his breathing horrible as he struggles to keep his crying from being obvious. "You look sick all the time and I don't want that."

He's told me the story. His mother wasting away, thinning and slipping, starving and dying. How he'd returned home to a baby wailing in her crib as their mothers body lay in a pool of blood he never really got out of the carpet. He lied to me initially when I saw it the first time, said it was wine. It wasn't until we had a few glasses ourselves that his eyes glazed over and he told me. It was disturbing how neutral he kept himself to the subject. A habit he'd developed much too long ago to break.

"Mike-"

"I try, and I try and if something doesn't give soon I'm gonna fucking lose it," he sobs into my skin, arms tightening around me.

"If what doesn't give?" I ask softly, trying to pull him away to look into his eyes. But he doesn't budge, sobbing a little bit harder and gripping a little bit tighter. He doesn't respond, simply shaking as he breathes heavily against me through his mouth.

"Hey," I say softly, trying to wrap my arms around him, failing and giving up as I realize his grip is too tight. "I'm not going anywhere."

His mouth closes a little, quieting his breathing slightly as he sniffles.

"I'm an idiot, but I'm not suicidal," I say softly, trying again for a joke. He doesn't laugh, but he does pull away slightly to look at my face, lips swollen and quivering as he blinks at me.

"You scare me," he says quietly, not quite meeting my eyes. He's watching my lips, but I think that's because that's the closest he can get to making eye contact.

"I scare you?" I ask, furrowing my brows. I lick my dry, cracked lips for comfort. "Why?"

"Because I love you," he says shakily, sighing as though it were exhausting to admit while still holding that nervous flicker in his eyes. "Because when I think about not being with you the house seems colder. And I can't go back to hating this house."

I open my mouth to respond, but there's more.

"Because I love your stupid smile when you're excited, or how you do that cricket leg thing when you're falling asleep. Or how if you want my attention you'll bury your head in my chest and pretend you're doing it in your sleep even though I won't judge you for doing it while you're awake."

"I don't-"

"I love how defensive you get over things like that," he says, bringing one hand to cup my cheek, resting his thumb that smells like the creamy lavender handsoap next to the bathroom sink on my lips. "I love how you look waking up next to me, how you play with Abby. And for a really long time I didn't see myself ever having kids, but when I see you curling her hair at the kitchen table I think maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I just took up another job and saved money so that we could-"

"Mike-"

"Stop cutting me off," he says gently, his eyes finally meeting mine with just the smallest smile. "It's rude."

At that I do stop, my body finally relaxing into his grasp as I lean into him and his touch.

"I want things I haven't wanted since before Garret went missing," he says, stroking my lip. "And I want them with you."

Dinner was just as delicious as lunch, even if it was late. And the bed is soft like our voices as we make plans for years down the line. And after a week long break, the pages are finally filled once again.

Just like us.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Literally had a come to Jesus moment while writing this that not only do I fear being vulnerable irl, but in writing too. Nearly threw up while writing this. Book aable feet.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

•▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

199 notes · View notes

starrynini05 · 1 month

Text

like we’re moving in slow motion – painter!kim jennie x photographer!reader

summary: when you were with her, everything felt like a dream

warnings: none

tags: non!idol au ; photography student!reader ; art student!jennie : university au

genre: fluff

word count: 1k

You will always remember your first encounter with her as if it was yesterday:

In the city of Seoul, where skyscrapers kissed the sky and neon lights painted the streets in a kaleidoscope of colors, life moved at a dizzying pace. With the arrival of spring, rain cascaded from above, transforming the urban landscape into a shimmering mosaic of light and shadow. The streets, usually bustling with the hurried footsteps of pedestrians, the murmur of crowded sidewalks, the rhythmic pulse of music escaping from nearby shops, and the hum of traffic, now lay quiet under the soothing rhythm of the rainfall.

The city, for a brief moment, seemed to catch its breath, basking in the tranquility brought by the new season. Most people would find it an inconvenience, but for you, it was an inspiration. Amidst the chaos, you were enjoying yourself in the solace of a nearby park, covered by trees, the soft shutter of your camera blending into the sounds of nature. As a photography student, you had a penchant for capturing beauty in the mundane. Your world was seen through the lens of your camera, each click capturing a frozen moment in time. The final frames were a stark contrast to the vibrant city outside, often highlighting the quiet corners and overlooked details of their urban landscape.

As the rain began to pour harder you noticed people entering different shops for shelter. Preoccupied by your equipment, you decided to continue your little shoot inside an old bookstore. While capturing the reflections of the rain-soaked streets you saw a slender, cat-eyed girl enter the store, canvas, and brushes in hand. It felt like you were moving in slow motion, almost serendipitously, your eyes met across the room, a spark igniting between both gazes.

Kim Jennie was the name engraved on her pink smock tag, slightly covered with paint. She was an art student at the same university, carrying a heart as vibrant as her paintings. She was slightly older than you, being in her third year of liberal arts while you were only a freshman. Her paintings were scattered along the campus, being exhibited as examples of skill and talent. Her world was a riot of colors, each brushstroke on her canvas a testament to her passion. Unlike you, she was pretty well known around the university, having friends in different areas, and being involved in various academic activities.

With a surge of confidence, you showed her a timid smile that she reciprocated with an even bigger smile and an invitation to talk. As you approached her, she extended her paint-covered hand and presented herself softly, “Hi, my name is Jennie, I’m a third-year art student at Hanguk University” “Nice to meet you…” too lost in her orbs, you missed her going quiet so you would continue “Oh, yeah, hey, my name is Lee y/n, I’m a first-year photography student at the same university”, your cheeks turning red at the statement. As you exchanged timid smiles and hesitant words, you discovered a shared love for art and expression. She admired your ability to freeze moments in time through your lens, while you found solace in her colorful imagination that breathed life into your monochromatic world.

You both returned to campus that day with a new perspective on life, wishing to know more about each other. Thus, as time passed your connection deepened. You spent your free time together wandering the streets of Seoul, exploring hidden alleyways and abandoned rooftops, looking to capture these landscapes in both painting and pictures. As the artistic outings became more frequent, they suddenly turned into coffee dates, picnics, and even movie dates. With each passing moment, you found yourselves falling deeper into an enchanting rhythm, your hearts beating in sync like a melody.

She became your escape from reality, leaning all your weight, showing her your most vulnerable and integer form. Likewise, you were always on her mind, she kept the memories of your countless interactions as sacred treasures, like tiny blessings to her troubled heart.

It had been almost four months since that day, and now, lying on the grass under the moonlight you couldn’t help but keep on admiring her perfect profile. She had moved your head to rest on her chest, enclosing your small frame from behind. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as you gazed at the stars in perfect silence, lost in each other's embrace. You felt her take something from behind her back, and suddenly, a small bouquet of pink tulips entered your vision. With a small sigh, she slightly sat up and sat you in front of her.

“I know it may seem like soon, but I like you a lot, you were there on my lonely nights keeping me together, you gave me a new lens from which to view, and you made it so easy for me to love you” – “So, wouldn't it make sense if I was yours?” Her voice was barely audible with how nervous she was, and your eyes were almost brimming with tears. You were moved, and, as if on impulse, you threw yourself at her, enveloping her in a bone-crushing hug, as the tears intensified. Worriedly, she asked you “Hey, why are you crying beautiful? Did I do something wrong?”, at her words you hastily moved your head in denial. “I just really like you too, and those words were so touching and profound, it made me emotional”, you carefully rubbed your eyes and took a deep breath before continuing, “For me, you are just like the dream, one I never want to wake up from. I love you; it will be my pleasure to be yours” A soft smile drew on her face as she gingerly kissed your nose.

And so, in the quiet embrace of the night, you both found yourselves enveloped in a love that transcended time and space. For in the chaos of the world around you, you had discovered a moment of slow motion, where everything else faded away, and only your love remained, moving in slow, slow motion.

#jennie #blackpink #jennie kim #jennie x reader #blackpink x reader #jennie imagines #jennie scenarios #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #girl group scenarios #spotify

147 notes · View notes

the-guilty-writer · 4 months

Note

I second the ask about Hotch's daughter with endometriosis!!! I'd like to see that

I just finished it ♡

Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

You truly wondered how women with endometriosis survived periods before thermotherapy products were invented. Hot water bottles and heating pads were a necessity for you during this time of the month. It wasn’t that they made the pain go away - they just made it bearable enough to allow you small bits of time where you could do something more than laying down.

At the moment, a hot water bottle and a maxed out dose of Ibuprofen were holding you together - barely. After twenty minutes at school, you were sent home by your English teacher, who was concerned about your nauseous complexion. Somehow, you'd managed to do some make-up work before taking a long (and much-needed) nap.

With your dad away on a case, the list of chores was longer than normal, but the pain made moving nearly impossible, much less cleaning. Dishes needed to be put away, the kitchen table needed to be cleared, and he laundry hamper was flooded with clothes, but there was no way you could do any of it while your insides felt like they were going to fall out. The only thing you absolutely had to do was pick Jack up from school. Everything else could wait.

All the energy you’d gathered went into the ten minute drive to and from picking up your brother. He requested a snack as soon as you got home, which you somehow managed to make him food without screaming in pain. It took every ounce of energy you had left to sit at the table with your brother as he did his homework.

The pain and fatigue clouded your brain, so much so that you hardly noticed the door to the apartment open.

“Dad!” Jack jumped up his seat and down the hall toward him.

“Hey buddy,” Hotch said. The tone of his voice was a testament to his exhaustion, but a happiness to be home.

“Dad, I made this painting in art class and I really want to show you. It's in my bedroom. Come look!” Jack didn’t give your dad a moment of rest.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “I'll be there in a minute.”

Jack’s feet pounded against the floor, running to his room in anticipation. Your dad’s longer, slower footsteps followed behind. As soon as he appeared in the doorway, you could tell the case has been a hard one. He looked beyond exhausted, horrors still haunting his eyes and crushing his spirit. Not even your little brother's innocent greeting could extinguish what your dad had endured over the past few days.

“Hey, dad,” you greeted him with as much enthusiasm as you could muster up.

“Hi sweetheart.” He planted a quick kiss atop your head before moving to the kitchen. “Where are all the plates?”

A displeasement crossed your dad’s face. You'd meant to empty the dishwasher earlier that day, but the pain body had stopped you.

“Still in the dishwasher,” you said, holding back a wince as your stomach cramped.

“I thought we talked about this.”

“We did, but-”

“You’re almost an adult. I expect you to start showing up like one.” He was calm but stern. Unblinking eyes bore into you. It made you want to cry.

Hotch turned and left the kitchen, his calm footsteps indicating he was going to Jack's room.

Despite the pain radiating through your body, you stood up and carefully made your way to the dishwasher to unload it. As soon as you leaned over to lower the door, a stabbing sensation penetrated your gut. Dizziness washed over your head and blackened your vision. In an instant, you had crumbled to the floor.

You weren't even aware that you'd let out a cry of pain until your dad was kneeling next to you, a gentle hand caressing your face. Through teary, blurry vision, you could just make out the worry in his fearures.

“It hurts,” you choked out.

“I know,” he said gently. “I'm here. I've got you.”

Strong arms lifted you off the kitchen floor, carrying you to the couch. A heating pad was laid across your stomach and a straw was brought up to your lips with the gentle encouragement to drink.

When you managed to open your eyes, Hotch was next to you, a look of concern on his normally serious face.

"Hi, sweetheart." The words were the same as before, but his tone was different.

"Hi," you whispered.

"Here," Hotch brought a hand behind your back and used the other to hand you a bottle of water, "have some water."

You took gentle sips. Your father’s hand still rested on your back, rubbing it soothingly.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You didn't make me get up." It was true.

"No, but I jumped to conclusions about what you were able to do and it made you feel like you had to do something that caused you pain." Sometimes having a profiler for a dad was a good thing. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you said.

Hotch helped you lay down again, covering you with a warm blanket. "Can I get you anything?"

You snuggled into the blanket and adjusted the heating pad to sit in the best place for easing pain. "Just the TV remote."

Your dad smiled - his small but rare smile - before handing you the remote. The rest of the afternoon would be filled with watching bad TV and chick flicks, but he didn't mind. If it made you just a little more comfortable, then it was worth it.

#aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

290 notes · View notes

boobo13cambridge · 1 year

Text

Magic Kingdom | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x f.Reader

Warnings: Penetrative sex, fingering, kissing, breeding kink, no condom (wrap it before you tap it folks).

Summary: After spending the day at Disneyland Paris with his niece and nephew, Kylian wants to start a family with you

A/N: Hello, everyone! Sorry for posting this so late in the day, I got caught up with work. As always, I hope you enjoy it. I quite enjoyed this one because I’m such a sucker for Kylian with kids.

The sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky as you entered Disneyland Paris holding Kylian's niece close to your chest, the vibrant colors of the park's attractions and decorations catching your eye, and making the little girl squeal with joy. Kylian walked ahead with his nephew, eager to explore the different lands of the park. The air was warm and the breeze was refreshing, the sweet smell of pastries making your mouth subtly water. It was the perfect day to enjoy all the rides and experiences the park had to offer.

As you walked through the park, you were struck by the vibrant colors and delightful sounds of Disney magic all around you. You and the kids marveled at the elegant architecture of Main Street, U.S.A, with its charming shops and cafes, and then ventured into Adventureland, Frontierland, and Fantasyland to explore more of the park's wonders.

Walking by the Mad Hatter's Tea Cups ride, Kylian's niece tugged on his sleeve. "Tonton Kyky, est-ce qu'on peut aller sur ce manège, s'il te plaît?" ("Uncle Kyky, can we go on that ride, please?")

Kylian smiled down at her. "Bien sûre, ma petite poule. On y vas!" ("Of course, my little chicken. Let's go!")

As you all made your way over to the ride, skipping through the long line as you had made sure to buy the fast passes, your heart swelled with love and admiration for your husband. It was clear to you that despite being one of the greatest footballers in the world, he never let his busy schedule interfere with being a loving and devoted husband.

Watching him interact with his brother's children, Kylian's niece and nephew, was a true testament to his character. He was patient, playful, and always put their needs first. Seeing him be so caring and attentive made you dream about starting a family of your own with him.

As you all climbed aboard the Mad Hatter's Tea Cups, you found yourself lost in thoughts about the future, imagining Kylian spinning around with your own children, making them giggle with delight just like he did with his niece and nephew. It was a sweet and tender moment, and you knew in your heart that Kylian would make an amazing father.

"This is going to be so much fun!" exclaimed Kylian's nephew breaking you from your reverie as you all sat in the pretty pink teacup, as requested by little Lana.

"I know, I can't wait!" replied Kylian's niece, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

You and Kylian shared a smile, both feeling happy to be able to share this experience with his family. Kylian's little 4-year-old niece was holding onto you tightly as the ride spun faster and faster. The colors of the ride blended together in a dizzying and exhilarating whirlwind. Kylian bit his lip noticing how well you took care of his niece, and he couldn't help but dream about how nice of a mother you would be.

As the ride came to an end, you all stumbled out of the tea cups, still a little disoriented but filled with a sense of pure joy and laughter.

"That was so cool!" Kylian's niece exclaimed, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"I know, right? Let's do it again!" added Kylian's nephew.

You all shared a laugh, happy to have created such a fun memory together. As you made your way through the park, you stopped to take photos with the characters, capturing memories that would last a lifetime. The kids were especially excited to meet their favorite Disney princesses and heroes, and the look of pure joy on their faces was priceless. Throughout the day, you felt Kylian giving you these discreet looks that you couldn't quite figure out what they meant and he was usually very easy to read. You also noticed how extra-touchy he was.

Kylian usually kept his hands to himself when the kids were around but since you got off the Mad Hatter's Tea Cups ride, he was extra affectionate. A lingering kiss here, and a discreet pat on your behind. You finally caught on to his behavior when Lana had accidentally spilled her juice all over her beautiful Princess Ariel dress while you were all sitting down to eat at Casey's Corner. She got teary-eyed and looked up at you, "Tati, I ruined my dress!" You immediately comforted her and reassured her, "It's okay, Lana. Accidents happen. Let's go get you a new dress, okay?"

As you got up to find the nearest boutique, Kylian staying behind to clean up the spilled juice you caught the way he looked at you and Lana with such wistfulness and longing that even a blind person would have caught on to what he wanted. You were sure you were blushing to the tips of your hair, your heart filled with warmth and love. Shaking your head, you switched your focus to the still upset little girl holding your hand, putting thoughts of little babies with your husband’s dimples to the back of your mind.

As the day wore on, you took breaks to enjoy refreshing drinks and tasty treats like popcorn and cotton candy, and then continued to explore the park's many attractions, including the magnificent Sleeping Beauty Castle. As the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, you and Kylian found a spot to watch the enchanting Disney Illuminations show, with its stunning projections and dazzling fireworks illuminating the night sky. The children, tightly secured in your arms after a brief argument about who would get to sit in Tati or Tonton’s lap, were entranced, and as you looked at each other, you couldn't help but feel a wave of pure love and affection wash over you both.

Back home, the kids tucked into bed after an exciting trip to Disneyland, you and and your husband snuggled into bed. You had one leg thrown over his strong thighs as you rested your head onto his naked toned chest relaxing to the comforting sound of his heartbeat.

"I had such a great time today, mon amour." Kylian said as he stroked your hair his chin resting on the top of your head.

"Me too," you replied. "It was so much fun to see the kids' faces light up."

Kylian paused for a moment before speaking again. "You know, spending the day with them made me realize something."

"What's that?" you asked curiously, sleepily nuzzling into his chest.

"I…uh…I was thinking about how I wanted to start a family with you," Kylian said slightly stuttering, as you felt your heart stop for a second. You looked up at him seeing the way he was nervously chewing on his bottom lip. "Really? Are you sure?" you asked, unsure of how to respond, not like you weren’t secretly fantasizing about that the whole day and you were pretty sure he caught on to that.

Kylian nodded, gently stroking your lower back. "I've been thinking about it for a while now, and today just seeing you with the kids made me want it all the more."

You snorted while fiddling with the silver chain with your initials you got him for your second anniversary which he never took off. " Yeah, baby, you were really subtle about it today."

Lightly pinching your waist, he rolled his eyes. “Yes, because you were so subtle mademoiselle, blushing every time I looked at you.”

You giggled and leaned into his touch, feeling a wave of desire wash over you. Kylian's eyes flickered with amusement before turning serious. "I'm serious, though. I want to start a family with you."

Your heart swelled with love for him, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I want that too, Kylian. More than anything."

He leaned down to capture your lips in a soft, sweet kiss, his hand moving up to cup your cheek. You responded eagerly, deepening the kiss and wrapping your arms around his neck. You had made love countless times before, but this felt different. It was as if you were cementing your commitment to each other and to the future you were planning.

Breaking the kiss, Kylian gazed into your eyes, his own filled with love and longing. "I want to make love to you," he whispered, his voice husky and filled with emotion. Your heart fluttered at his words, feeling a heat building within you as he began to trail kisses down your neck, causing shivers to run down your spine.

Your hands scratched the back of his head causing him to let out a sinful groan that sent streaking pleasure deep to your core, fluttering emptily. He hovered over you, his wet lips trailing kissing down your chest over the fabric of the silky black nightgown you were wearing wetting to fabric with his eager tongue, leaving you breathless with his touch.

“You’re so perfect, mon coeur. Je t’aime si fort,”, he whispered against your covered nipple making you whimper his name as his hands trailed over your legs lifting your gown up and revealing more of your soft flesh. You slightly arched your back off the bed to help him take the silky fabric off, leaving you naked under his smoldering gaze. He gently cupped your cheek his thumb sweeping tenderly across the soft skin, a deep contrast with the dangerously molten desire swirling in his dark eyes.

“Ma femme,” his voice said, finally, so low that it was almost a sigh. That one word alone ignited a flame of passion so intense, you were scared you were never going to come back from it. This moment here with him felt almost sacred, it was as if everything in your life led you here, in a penthouse in the middle of Paris, lying naked as the moonlight from the large window illuminated your body, and this beautiful, beautiful man looking down at you as you embarked on a path that would leave you intertwined with him for eternity.

Just as you started to feel overwhelmed, he was all over you. His hands were on your skin, gripping and circling around both breasts at once, pushing against your hard nipples, as he whispered sweet nothings against your heart making your toes curl and dragging hungry moans from your throat.

He slowly trailed his hand down your belly, giving it an extra caress as it would be his child’s new home, and cupping your swollen flesh making you groan his name. His fingers trailed through your wetness as he opened up your folds and found the little nub, rubbing it back and forth. You arched your back, the pleasure zapping up your spine as you lost yourself in him. “Ky…Kylian… Fuck, j’ai besoin de toi,” you practically sobbed as he pressed his forehead against yours, his hot breath on your face making you lose your mind from desire. (“Ky…Kylian… Fuck, I need you,” )

“Tu es que à moi, mon amour. Juste à moi,” he whispered, his words leaving your heart a mess. Kylian slowly slid two of his fingers deep into your swollen, wet pussy, preparing you for him as you cried out in pleasure due to the intrusion. ("You are only mine, my love. Only mine.")

“Fuck, bébé. You’re so tight for me,” he moaned into your mouth, his tongue tangling with yours as he scissored his fingers to stretch you out, creating an inferno that had you reeling. You cling to his broad, warm shoulders, feeling the shift of hard muscle as your husband curves his fingers upward finding that special spot inside you that has your thighs shaking. “I’m go-going to cum, baby…please.”

You’re writhing in his hold as he continues to invade you and push you towards your peak. Tears start to build in the corner of your eyes as the pressure builds up inside you. It only takes another flick of his wrist, to send you spiralling towards completion as you shout his name. Kylian continues to pump his fingers, helping you ride out your high.

Feeling sensitive, you gently push on his chest signalling him to stop. He slowly takes his finger out of your wet core and pushed the sticky hair back from your forehead. Tenderly, he pecks your nose, cheek, and finally your lips. “Let me put a baby in you, mon amour, yeah? I want to see you swollen with my child,” he groans lustfully. “Tell me you want that, bébé. Tell me you want my child in you.”

“Yes, Ky. I want your baby, only yours,” you moan wrapping your legs around his waist as you feel him rolling his hips into yours, his clothing member rubbing your drenched mound. “I want you to get me pregnant, please Ky.”

You trail your hands down his back, struggling to take his tight briefs off. Taking the hint, Kylian gently unwound your legs from around him and quickly takes them off throwing them somewhere in the bedroom. He stands over you, his large, swollen cock, standing straight up, the tip wet with precum. You let out an embarrassingly loud moan at the sight of him stroking his generous length up and down.

“Beg me, bébé,” he says lost in the sight of you spread open for him, your hole clenching in front of his eyes. “Beg me to fill you.”

God, you were losing it. “Please, Kylian. Fill me up, I want you inside me so bad.”

Throwing his head back at your pleading, he nudges your legs, spreading you wider, and trails his length through your wet folds, tapping your clit, sending shudders down your spine. Just as you were about to beg him again, he presses that hot, leaking hardness into you, delving it between your wet lips and spreading them apart, oh putain.

A loud moan erupted from your throat as your husband entered your heat, immediately he put a hand over your mouth, shushing you gently. “Bébé, as much as I want you screaming my name, the kids are asleep.”

Through the hefty fog of lust and desire that had engulfed your brain, the thought that his innocent niece and nephew were sleeping peacefully down the hall pierced through you, cooling the flame of passion slightly. You nodded your head at his words, as he continued to slide through, as your walls struggled to fit his thick length. He was huge. There was always so much of him.

“Putain, bébé,” he gasped in that deep voice of his that had you clenching even tighter all around him. “You’re always so fuckin’ good for me.”

He finally bottomed out inside, your sweaty bodies wedged tight together, spread thighs flush against his hips, the bulging weight of his balls pressing against you from below. He waited, letting you adjust to him, always the gentleman, before you nodded at him, giving him the go.

Gripping you tight, he dragged himself out, slowly, and then sank back in with a single driving thrust of his hips, shit. You had to bite down on your lip so hard, you were pretty sure you broke through the skin, to stop yourself from letting out something alarmingly close to a scream. It was so good, particularly when he let out those breathtaking deep groans right in her ear.

“Ky, more. Please,” you gasped, pushing his butt with your feet. And just like the caring, attentive husband he was, answered your wish and sped up his thrusts. Dragging his leaking cock back, and then rapidly slamming hard inside, sending a blast of screaming shattering ecstasy through your body.

“Oh, God. Ky, faster. I want you so bad,” you pleaded as tears escaped your eyes. Kylian looked at your teary face contorted with pleasure and went feral as he crashed his mouth onto yours devouring your soul. His huge cock ploughing through her wet cunt and his heavy cum-filled balls slapping her ass, the filthy sound of their love-making resounding in the dark room. “Take it, bébé. I’m going to fill you up so good,” he growled biting her lip, soothing it immediately with his tongue. “You’re going to look so beautiful round with my child. Take it, princesse, Fuckin’ take it.”

You were going crazy, your heart was ramming into your chest as you felt searing white-hot pleasure spread through your body. “I’m cumming, fuck, Kylian,” you muffled your moans in his neck, as you felt your cunt spasming around his hot length. “Cum for me, princesse,” he groaned as his hips stuttered, his own orgasm racing through him. Just as you were spiraling, your mind dizzy from the force of your own release, you felt his hot cum splattering your walls, filling you with his seed as his sinful moans invaded your hearing. You felt so sensitive, but Kylian continued to thrust, pushing his cum inside you as it started to leak.

As he felt himself getting overstimulated, he got off of your, slowly taking his cock from your battered pussy making sure to push back his fertile cum that escaped. “Gotta make sure it sticks, bébé,” he said making you let out an exhausted giggle. As he laid down beside you, after putting a pillow under your hips as you heard it helped with getting pregnant, he lovingly stroked your hair placing a gentle hand on your belly, basking in the afterglow of your love-making.

“I love you so much, mon ange,” he said delicately, eyes filled with love and affection. Turning to look at the man who stole your heart two years ago in the most unexpected way, you cupped his cheek, placing a soft kiss on his nose. “I love you more, baby. I hope I’m pregnant right now.”

Chuckling, he took the pillow from underneath your hips as it had been ten minutes and pulled you into his arms. “T’inquiète, mon amour. After all, I am known for always shooting on target,” he said cheekily, making you laugh. “Ah, oui. How could I forget? Meilleur buteur du PSG, n’est-ce-pas?”

("Ah, yes. How could I forget? The top scorer of PSG, yeah?")

As you lay tangled in each other's arms, you both knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your lives, one filled with love, laughter, and the joy of starting a family together.

#kylian imagines #kylian x reader #kylian mbappe smut #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappé #kylian mbappe request #kylian fanfic #kylian mbappe #kylian smut #kylian x you #kyky de bondy #footballer blurb #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #footballer fanfiction #football #psg

598 notes · View notes

testamentxdizzy · 10 months

Text

Source: https://twitter.com/ruiruilui1001/status/1652996000003547136

#testament #dizzy #guilty gear #testament x dizzy #dizzy (guilty gear)#tesdizzy #testament guilty gear #guilty gear dizzy #Testament x dizzy #testament (guilty gear)#arc system works #dizzy gg #guilty gear testament

47 notes · View notes

teyamsatan · 1 year

Text

Cruel Summer | Chapter II: Before It Sinks In

Pairings: Neteyam x (f)Human!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k words

Warnings/notes: angst, allusions to/mentions of smut, friends-with-benefits, mutual pining, 18+ minors DNI

Synopsis: After the Sully kids get attacked by the newly found Recombinant Soldiers, Jake makes the tough decision to leave the Omatikaya. Neteyam is forced to say goodbye to you, to your relationship and to the life he always dreamed about.

A/N: So I decided to split what was originally supposed to be one chapter into two, and this way I get to make good use of the amazing song that @karma-is-a-cat-purringinmylap was amazing enough to turn me on to, that just happened to work like a glove (the first non TS song in my works!!!)! I think I will try sticking to shorter chapters, as I feel 10k chapter might be a a bit overwhelming overall. Now, did this chapter make me cry several times? Yes. Will it make you cry? I'm hoping you will tell me soon ;)

enjoy besties ily xoxo

: ̗̀➛ listen to Before It Sinks In here : ̗̀➛ masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x)

Suspended in the air, I hear myself breathing

Hanging by a thread, my heart is barely beating

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Neteyam watched as you ran towards the lake that he wanted so badly to show you, he was practically buzzing by the time he got to Hell’s Gate. He found this little spot accidentally a few days ago while on a hunt, and it’s been on his mind ever since, exuberant at the thought of you in it, at the thought of your face splitting in a wide smile and your eyes widening taking it all in. He thought of the little squeal you would make as you saw the waterfall and way you’d jump off his back immediately and make your way without thinking of your clothes, or the mask, or anything else. The scene unfolding in front of him was exactly the way he pictured it, a testament to how long you’ve been in each other’s lives, how well he knew every facet of your being, like you were just an extension of his own self, like you were a complicated poem he’s dedicated his whole life deciphering and could now recite by heart, could now dissect it and appreciate it endlessly, to its full potential.

You didn’t look back as you just hurriedly made your way to the edge of the water, taking off pieces of clothing as you did, until you were in a lace thong and bra, that Neteyam has seen multiple times before. He could see it every day, every minute of the day, it could be tattooed on his eyeballs and it would still not stop the way his mouth instantly filled with saliva and his head felt dizzy from all the blood travelling downwards. You were the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on. Actually, beautiful did nothing to describe you. Beautiful had nothing on you. Neteyam wished he was more articulate at times like this, he wishes he would have read all the hundreds of books residing in the big library in Hell’s Gate where you loved to spend your time, in order to find the proper word to describe you. In order to validate his postulation that there was, in fact, not a single word in all of the English language, or Na’vi, for that matter, to encapsulate what you meant to him, how he viewed you.

A splashing noise is all he heard as you jumped quietly in the water, and he followed suit, a little concerned when you wouldn’t resurface, until it dawned on him you could breathe underwater with the mask on. When you did resurface, you were standing right underneath the waterfall, the biggest smile in the world plastered on your face, and Neteyam couldn’t help his own that blossomed like how the flowers in the morning bloom did, like how his love for you did.

Neteyam couldn’t remember his life before this. Before tangled bodies and insurmountable pleasures. He couldn’t remember who he had been, what used to occupy his mind and thoughts, what feelings, middling and insignificant, used to plague him before your being took over everything, over every second of every day, over every dream and nightmare, over the past, present and future. Neteyam knew he fucked up. Knew that he lied to you that day, when he told you he wouldn’t fall in love with you. Because he did, he fell like from a distance so far removed he could no longer see the ground. And yet, Neteyam knew the ground was there, and that gravity was pushing him towards it, and that whilst the fall was freeing and exhilarating now, while now it felt like flying, once it ended, it would crush all his bones, and his spirit, and his soul.

“This might be the best thing you’ve ever shown me!” You were screaming loudly, trying to be heard above the booming noise of the waterfall crashing down in deafening roars, and he laughed at how enthusiastic you seemed, how wild and free. You’ve always been like that, Neteyam mused. You kept to yourself in the labs, and in the village, around the scientists and other people, around his mother and the clan - but when you were around people you loved, people you were comfortable with, you were uninhibited and unconfined to expectations, and fears and limitations, at liberty to be yourself, to shine brighter than any star in the sky.

“What are you doing over there, Teyam? You know I don’t like to be kept waiting!”

He shook his head, but said nothing as he removed his cummerbund and knife belt and dove in the warm water, swimming until he reached you. As soon as he did, your arms and legs encircled him like they always tended to, automatically and without thought.

You looked in his eyes, and the glimmer in it made Neteyam’s mind freeze and go blank, made his heart thump in his chest and sweat pool on his skin, that was promptly washed away by the undulating water.

“I want to kiss you.” Neteyam couldn’t help the words coming out of his mouth, a confession and a plea all in one, a futile one in the face of untouchable facts, such as the fact being without your mask will kill you.

You smiled and placed a soft hand on his face, tracing his lips gently, and he shuddered under the touch. “I want to kiss you, too.”

“Thank you, Teyam. This is beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it, ma Vol. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to bring you here. It was the only thing on my mind, the thought of you and m-“ Neteyam realised his mouth was running faster than his mind could keep up, a rare occurrence in his life, but fairly common in your presence.

Your eyes were wide and full of surprise, and fear started creeping on your face, unannounced and unwelcome, although not completely unexpected. He shouldn’t have said that. Every time things got a little too… intimate between the two of you, any time either of you pushed the boundaries that you both established, boundaries that you needed to abide by above all, it took a while to fall back into step, to get things back to normal, to mutually forget and pretend it never happened. He didn’t want that to happen again. Things were going great for you two, and he didn’t want to lose any time with you, any time he could be loving you instead, any time he could be making you writhe underneath him, any time at all.

“I - I just meant… you know… I -“

Your slender fingers found his lips again and at the small pressure you put on them, he stopped talking. Your eyes softened and your surprised expression melted into one of muted happiness, of unspoken affection, of forbidden feelings.

“I know.”

You spent hours swimming and giggling, splashing water at each other, enjoying how, when both submerged, the difference between you didn’t seem that extreme, the discrepancy in your bodies and your heights nothing that couldn’t be promptly overcome. You talked until your lungs were running out of breath and your voices hoarse, just catching up and discussing everything that’s been going on since you hadn’t seen each other.

Right behind a waterfall stood a layered rock formation, which happened to allow for perfect positioning so that, when sat on it, your and Neteyam’s faces were at the same level. You smirked as you slipped your finger in the band of his loincloth and tugged at it until he took the hint and got closer to you. He didn’t have time to protest you taking off your mask recklessly and smashing your lips against his, a kiss so passionate and deep, it pushed any rational thought out of his mind and replaced it with desire and a tingling ache, one that he knew too well, one that seemed ever-present around you.

“Vol..” he tried to speak against your lips, but you just shook your head and deepened the kiss, pushing your tongue past his lips until it met his, entangling in a suave dance until you were panting and heaving against him. He tsked annoyed at your foolhardiness, and watched patiently while you fastened to mask on yourself again and took deep, settling breaths.

“You take my breath away… get it?” You laughed and then laughed some more at how unamused he was. “Come on, it’s funny.”

“You putting your life in danger foolishly is not funny to me.”

You smirked and shrugged indifferently. “Well, not everyone gets my sophisticated sense of humour.”

“God, I hate this mask.”

Neteyam knew how much you hated it. He hated it, too. He’d give anything to be able to kiss you freely, to caress your face, to feel your lips and your soft skin, to see your eyes reflecting the colours of the nature surrounding you instead of a piece of glass doing it instead. Fortunately, Neteyam always knew how to cheer you up.

“Vol…” he started, voice so low and soft it was almost purring. His long fingers traced your beautiful body, and each freckle adorning it, until he reached your panties, that he skilfully pulled down your thighs, until you were hanging on to them by an ankle. “Just because you can’t kiss my lips, doesn’t mean I can’t kiss yours.”

Neteyam watched as your upper body leaned backwards until your back hit the rock wall, pushing your head back and closing your eyes in anticipation. Your hand found its way to his hair, that you grasped tightly and pushed him down, and he laughed at your already needy and disheveled demeanour. “You know, Teyam? You’re definitely the bestest friend a girl could ever ask for.”

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I haven't fallen yet, but I feel it comin'

Tell me would it be too much to ask, if you break it to me gently

“What?” Neteyam could hardly believe his ears, could hardly believe that the words coming out of his dad’s mouth were his current reality, and not a nightmare his mind concocted to make him ill, to keep him awake until his eyes started burning in his skull.

“We are leaving. Tomorrow.”

Neteyam watched in pain as Tuk cried silently and immediately felt the pang of fraternal instincts kick in, urging him to pick her up and hold her close in his arms, let her cry it out in the crook of his neck.

“But why, daddy? I don’t want to leave.”

His dad’s stiff posture melted at his daughter’s words, that he could never resist. His eyes softened and he sighed, taking his mother’s hand in his.

“Because we are in danger, baby girl. We now know the humans brought Avatars with them, that they brought the best soldiers back to life to hunt and kill me. And they will stop at nothing to do it, including hurting you.”

The only thought spiralling violently in Neteyam’s mind, as usual, was you. His heart was pounding aggressively in his chest, the increased heart rate making his ears hurt and his head dizzy. What did this mean? How would leave? Just the family? What about you and Spider? You were family to him, and to the rest of the Sullys. Maybe not to his mother, but even she would never want anything bad to happen to you. If you did come, would you make it in another clan? Would they ever accept two humans as one of their own? The Omatikaya barely did, and you have been part of their lives for 19 years. What if you didn’t come? He couldn’t leave you. He couldn’t lose you. What was he supposed to do?

No. No, he couldn’t leave. He wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t leave you, he promised you, he promised himself. No matter what would ever happen in this life or the next, Neteyam knew you were the only constant he cared about, the only person he wanted to take with him and keep for the rest of time. He would tell his father no. For the first time in his life, Neteyam would tell his father no.

“Kids, I can’t risk putting you in danger. I can’t risk putting the Omatikaya in danger once more, leading them to war. I have too much to lose.” His eyes flickered to his mother, that was sobbing silently by his side, but tried to keep it together for her family and be brave, have a strong heart.

“We have too much to lose. If we go, we can keep them safe. The clan…” His father looked intently at his kids, eyes focused on Kiri and Neteyam. “…The humans.”

The humans…

Leaving would protect the humans. Leaving would protect you.

I'm waking the next day, without you beside me

And who I hold on to today, tomorrow will just be a memory

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

You and Neteyam’s friendship had a lot of boundaries, for good measure. It was necessary when you were doing things normally reserved for couples, or mates, when you were doing things to each other that no one else would approve of, or understand. One of the rules of the game was that you wouldn’t sleep together. You used to, when you were younger, but that was when your relationship was platonic, back when things were… normal. Now, you thought sleeping together and cuddling would be too intimate, too inappropriate, and it would lead to feelings, feelings you were trying to avoid, feelings which might get in the way of the harmless fun you were having, feelings which might make everything… complicated. It was all just fun. Just fun.

That being said, as it turns out, you were both really bad at following your own self-imposed rules, and so it didn’t take too long for you to break them all.

Deep, satisfied pants were all that could be heard in the big recreation centre that Neteyam knew by heart by now. It was dark, his freckles the only light that reflected in your eyes, the only light you needed.

“Well, we’re definitely getting better at that.” you said with a small chuckle. That might have been the understatement of the century, but you didn’t want to scare him by telling him that if it was up to you, you’d have him tied in this room with a chain only loose enough so that he could do this 24/7, but just tight enough so he’d never leave.

You were laying with your head on his chest, as you always seemed to after a long and exhausting session. You loved the feel of his smooth, muscular body, that, despite your size difference, was somehow the most comfortable pillow you’ve ever slept on.

“I’m exhausted. I feel like you and Lo’ak forget sometimes that me and Spider aren’t Na’vi, and yet you work us like we are.”

“Stop complaining, Vol. I need you to be strong and agile, ok? I need to know you’re safe and that you can take care of yourself despite this tiny frail body you possess.”

You raised an eyebrow and scoffed annoyedly, mumbling mostly to yourself.

“Didn’t see you complain about my ‘tiny, frail body’ 20 minutes ago when you were fu-“

“Stop, Vol. You know what I mean. The humans are going to be back at some point, we both know that. And you spend too much time in this place, with your experiments and your books and your shows. I know you don’t like being in the village, and I know that my mother and the villagers give you a hard time sometimes, but at least when we go tracking, or hunting, or practicing, I want you there. I need to know you’re safe, ok?”

He stopped talking, and he sighed deeply, tightening his grip on your body. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper, laced with intense emotion.

“I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

You nuzzled your face in his chest and mirrored his grip on you, smiling softly at his concern and his words, that ran shivers down your spine and fluttered butterfly wings in your stomach.

“The worst thing that could ever happen to me is losing you, Teyam. Everything else, I will handle like the big girl I am.”

He kissed the top of your head, and you stood like that for a while, enjoying the comfortable silence. The thought of this moment ending hurt you deeply, so much so, you couldn’t fathom it. So you decided not to.

“Don’t go. You’re comfortable and I’m cold, and my room seems uninviting by comparison.”

He chuckled imperceptibly. “You love your room, ma Vol. You’ve written songs about how much you love your bed.”

“I love you, more.”

He sighed once more, but pulled you closer and settled down for the night. “I love you most.”

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I would look back at all of this and wonder why I stayed in here

Just to watch you disappear

When Neteyam reached your room in the lab complex, his heart was in his throat and his knees were wobbly, and he was almost reminiscent of his Uniltaron and how the worm made him feel, like he wasn’t there anymore, not fully. Like he could see his body from outside itself, like his was mind watching everything unfold from a safe distance. His movements felt robotic and untethered, no thought outside of how was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to leave you? How was he supposed to tell you that it’s over, that maybe you won’t lose him to another woman but you still will lose him nonetheless. Neteyam was trying to think which one was better. In a sea of two impossible choices, two unhappy endings, two roads reaching the same endpoint, which one was the lesser evil? And was there ever a third path? Was it ever possible, for you and him… a happy ending?

He used to think so, used to hope so. Used to love the daydreams and nights picturing it, so clear and vivid in his mind, it was like it was all unfolding in front of his eyes. You, tall and blue, laughing like you always did, taking your Iknimaya. The two of you, riding from dusk til dawn, discovering secret coves and falling asleep on green moss, where he would be able to kiss you freely, where he would be able to link to your thoughts and feelings and know that this was it, his most formidable desire come alive. His family, your family, carefree and happy, full of kids' laughter and formidable first steps, full of joy and love, full of him and you. That's all he's ever wanted. A family with the woman he loved. Not the woman he was promised to, not whichever new one they'd have to find for him in the Metkayina, the woman he loved. The only one.

But now, as he was standing in this room, that he may never see again, listening to the shower that he knew you were currently in, the dream feels further away than it ever has, further each minute, until it was slowly fading from view, so dim and dwindling, until it was gone from his life, gone from his mind, forever. Until only hurt existed, only the gaping hole left behind by your absence, by all the shattered dreams and the shards of broken hearts, his own and the one he knew he'd break tonight.

The anxiety that burned every part of his body also made his tail jerk violently in every direction, and he was pulled out of his nightmare by the sound of trinkets getting thrown on the ground.

“Shit.”

Neteyam thought he’d have more time. Hoped that he could gather himself and his thoughts, hoped he would formulate a plan in the few minutes you would still be in the shower. He knew you would have heard it, so he knew he didn’t have that luxury anymore. He still didn’t know how he could ever make the words come out. How he could ever go through with this.

As he kneeled on the floor to collect the broken vase that was now a fitting image of his soul, he heard the door to the bathroom open, but his eyes remained fixated on the task at hand, unable to look in your eyes, whose memory, whose incandescent beauty would haunt Neteyam for life. He tried to speak past the overbearing lump in his throat.

"Sorry. I wish I could control my tail better, but it's always an accident waiting to happen in these tight rooms."

The silence that befell the room was stifling and suffocating, and Neteyam felt the gaping hole enlarge, felt it taking over his entire chest, seeping into every ounce of his body, spreading like wildfire.

When you did speak, Neteyam almost wished you didn't. Because your voice did nothing to improve his condition, but worked as a perfect catalyst for further breakage, further pain. It was sad, and muted. It was disappointed. It was everything he never wanted your voice to be like when directed at him.

"Why are you here, Neteyam?"

"What do you mean why I am here? I can't be here?"

Neteyam spoke without thinking. He felt adrenaline taking over him, his body knowing he wouldn't be able to do this without the emboldenment given to him in this moment.

"You can, you just never are anymore."

“Vol… come on. You know it’s different now than it was in the village, in Hell’s gate. We’re going to get caught.”

“Yeah, well, we wouldn’t want to get caught. God forbid anybody knows you fuck me in your free time.”

“Vol…”

Neteyam didn't understand why he was fighting you about something so trivial. It didn't matter. None of this mattered. None of this mattered, and yet, Neteyam felt compelled to speak his truth. No matter what form it came in.

“I know you’re upset about today. I’m sorry.”

“Why would I be upset about today? You did what you had to do. I mean, she’s going to be your mate soon, right? It’s her hands that should be healing you anyway, not mine. Those are going to scar, by the way.”

Neteyam hated to admit it, because he fancied himself a good person, a person who is respectful and caring and conscientious, but he couldn't have cared less about her if he tried. In fact, his engagement being broken might be the only silver lining in the sea of black dread. He only cared about you. In fact, the distance, and the tension, and the silence and the pain, it was too much. He needed to feel you. If this was his last day with you, he'd be damned if he spent it not feeling your body, and your warmth, not looking in your eyes.

You were so easy to manoeuvre on the bed, it would have been laughable under any other circumstances. Not tonight. When he got on top of you, and felt your bare thighs touching his, and your hand wrapped around his arm, and your eyes boring into his, he felt so much love it was overwhelming him, so sure, for the first time in his life, of that you were the only one he'd ever love, that he was irrevocably in love with you for the rest of time. So regretful of the time he could have spent loving you, and telling you, of the time he spent hiding, only to never get the chance of confessing, never get the chance to follow through on his promises.

“Stop. I know you are upset. I wish it could have been you. You know me, Vol. You know I wish it could have been you.”

Your subtle head shaking made felt sharp bursts of pain shoot through him, like his queue was connected to an electrical socket.

“You should go, Neteyam. This isn’t right. You’re engaged to someone else. I watched her today, watched how worried she was about you, how desperate to help you, to take you away so it’s just the two of you. You’re going to mate with this girl any day now. There’s no room for me in your life anymore. Not like this, anyway.”

He sighed and got off from on top of you, no matter how loudly his mind was screaming otherwise. He wouldn't do anything you weren't comfortable with.

“The engagement is broken.”

He wanted to stop. He could just stop and not say anything else. He could just end it there, and watch as your eyes widened in shock, then settled on a happy, relieved disposition that he saw so vividly in his mind's eye, it was almost as if was happening. He could just not go. He could stay, and love you, and make love to you, and keep you. It would be so easy. Nothing's ever been as easy as falling in love with you.

Leaving would protect the humans. Leaving would protect you.

“Because I’m leaving. I’m leaving the Omatikaya, and so is my family.”

Far beyond my reach is the future you promised

Now what I never even had, I have every reason to miss

"What did you just say?"

You heard him wrong. You must have heard him wrong. You wiped his tears off your face and sat up, feet dangling off the bed.

"Vol..."

"What did you say, Neteyam?"

You felt anger pick at you like you liked picking at your nails when anxiety took the better of you, and it hurt, and it burned, but anger was better than sadness, so you let it burn until you were ashes on the ground.

"My dad said we have to leave for the Metkayina clan. They're looking for him, trying to kill him. If we go, the clan will be safe. You will be safe."

"Are you kidding me right now? Please tell me it's one of those jokes like the ones Spider and Lo'ak love making that I don't get, but they find hilarious, for some reason. Please, Neteyam. Please."

You were begging, you realised. Outside of the intimacy of your bedroom and the cover of darkness, you never begged. You have never begged anyone for anything in your life. And there you were. Pathetic and weak. Begging a guy, the guy, to spare whatever was left of your heart with just a few words. All it took was a few words.

Neteyam wiped tears off his face and stood arrested in your room, arms limp by his side, like he couldn't move. Like you couldn't move.

"I'm not kidding, Vol. Trust me, I want nothing more than to be kidding. I want nothing more than for this to be a stupid, childish joke. But it's not. We are leaving tomorrow."

You were too stunned to speak, so you opted for the only other reaction your body seemed to be able to produce: laughter. You laughed. Loudly and obsessively, louder than you should have, louder than you ever have. It was so ridiculous, so ludicrous, it felt like the only appropriate reaction.

"This can't be real. This can't be happening."

Neteyam knelt by your side on the bed, and took your shoulders in his hands, urging you to look in his forlorn eyes, red and puffy, just like yours were.

“Vol, don’t you understand?! This is going to protect you. This way you get to be safe. I need to know that you are fucking safe, and if that means I go, then I go.”

There it was again, the anger picking at your brain until it buried everything else, until it was the only thing.

“Oh, that is such bullshit! Stop acting like you would choose to stay regardless of your family’s choice, even if it kept me safe. You have never been able to choose for yourself, never done anything outside of what Jake ever said, what Neytiri said, what Mo’at said, no matter how bad a choice, no matter how much you didn’t want it. I’m supposed to believe that it would be different now why?"

“It would, Vol, because it’s you!” he shook you gently as he said that, eyes so intense, so serious - so truthful.

"So stay. Just fucking stay. Please."

“Even if I stay, I still have to mate with her, don’t you understand?”

You knew that he was right. There was no win for you. For either of you. This life was cruel, and it gave with one hand and took with both, always leaving you with less than what you started. You weren’t one to question the meaning of life or the fairness of the universe, but now, taking in the man you loved more than anything in the world, the man who you knew loved you, you wondered what was the point of it all? Why were you here? Was there really that much cruelty reserved just for you? Were you how humanity was paying for its horrible missteps on Pandora? Were you an experiment, a toy put on here just as a Voodoo doll for Eywa, and every time she pricked another needle in you, it would reflect back on Earth and on of the people banished back to it? It felt like that sometimes, and it definitively felt like that tonight.

"I can't believe this. I can't believe you."

It suddenly felt much like you exchanged moods in between you, his despondent, wretched one passed on to you and replaced with your anger, strong and unwieldy.

“God fucking damn it, Vol! Do you think I want any of this, do you think this is my choice, that this would ever be my choice?! I'm trying to protect you! I'm trying to make sure you are safe, that the clan is safe! What the hell do you want from me?!”

He was angry and desperate, tears obvious in his eyes, as was the flush in his cheeks. Your eyes were leaking endless streams that you couldn’t push back, that you couldn’t remove from your cheeks in time before they were replenished, like they were begging to be seen and acknowledged, like the pain wouldn’t be denied - it wanted to be felt, and it didn’t care who it had to go through to do it.

You felt emptiness envelop you like a shroud at the situation that settled in and had time to stew in your mind with each passing moment. It was over. All over. The dreaded ending, the wreck it would leave behind, it was greeting you like a warm friend, announcing its arrival.

I'll just shut my eyes, forget that you were mine

How do you go from making one your home

And then just letting it all go

Your voice was numb and flat, quiet undulations with no emotion to give them any fluidity or any life. Your words were just a means to an end.

“Nothing, Neteyam. I don’t want anything from you anymore.”

You turned your back to him, unable to look at his skin on which traces of you still lingered, at his eyes in which you always saw the window to his soul, and your soul, the meaning of life and your future happiness encapsulated, his lips that traveled your body like a curious wanderer, finding Valhala in between your thighs, his hands which held your face and touched your hair, which pushed you closer to him or on him. A glance at any of these things and you would crumble, and you would shatter in a million pieces that no one knew well enough to put back together apart from him. You were a puzzle only he knew how to solve, and in his absence, you were all alone, and broken, left to mend your own cracks, knowing full well you’ll never be able to be put yourself back together quite the same way you were before.

“Vol… please.”

“Leave, Neteyam. Just go. Just fucking go.”

Stay. Please. I love you. I’m so in love with you. Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to lose you. Please. Please. Please.

The sound of the door sliding closed behind Neteyam was the last thing you heard before he was out of your life, leaving everything you had behind.

So I breathe and let you go

How do I breathe and let you go?

Taglist: @liluvtojineteyam @pinkpantheris @netemoon @fanboyluvr @bananafruityawne @liluvtojineteyam @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @netemoon

538 notes · View notes

usedtobecooler · 1 year

Text

chop chop slide | kurt kunkle x fem!reader

Pairing | Kurt Kunkle x Fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content 18+ minors dni, unprotected piv sex, car sex, rough sex, hair pulling, scratching, dirty talk, degradation, recording without consent, mentions of murder skits. eludes to an unhappy ending.

Word Count | 1.3k

A/N | this has been a draft for a looooong time so i'm glad it's finally complete and published!! thank u to my favourite kurt babes @loveshotzz and @chainsawmunson for dealing with my ramblings for this fic, and to @superblysubpar for kickstarting my obsession with writing for this lil incel

He’s not incredible at this, you need to make that perfectly clear in your head before you end up falling in love with a sociopath. It’s hard to remind yourself when he’s deep in your guts and fucking you in rhythm with the shitty electronic music that’s vibrating in the car, bass thrumming through your veins.

There are little spatters of blood above his eyebrow, the tips of his dirty blonde hair matted with it, and you’re trying to ignore it but it’s hard to. You knew his murder skits were fake, (or so you hoped) still it doesn’t make it any less unsettling to look at, especially in the vulnerable state you’re currently in — tits out, cunt stuffed full, locked in a basic strangers car.

“H-holy shit,” Kurt stutters, knocking you out of your trance, wide eyes tearing away from his soiled hair and back to his awestruck face. His own eyes are watching where you’re bouncing on top of him, your pussy sucking him in, soaking his pelvis. You leave a creamy ring of release matting down his pubic hair, a testament to how turned on you really were.

You bury your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging tightly until he’s hissing and punching up into you, cock gliding wetly inside your velvet walls. It’s animalistic, a push and shove for dominance, and you’re unsure who’s going to win as his fingers bite into your thick thighs and keep you held down on him, the thick head of his cock bruising into your cervix and knocking the air from your lungs.

It was unexpected, when you’d pulled his cock out of his pants in eagerness, you didn’t expect to see the absolute monster that sprung loose. He was hung, ridiculously so, and from that second you knew you needed him in you. Wasted no time in sinking down onto him, relishing in the quiet whining it produced from his puffy pink lips.

It was still knocking the wind out of you now, though. It made you feel dizzy with want, the biting at your slick walls still somewhere in the back of your mind.

“Your pussy is so tight,” Kurt groans, head thumping back against the headrest, eyes squeezing shut as he catches a breath for a moment. You find that moment of weakness to regain control of the situation, using your knees to start up your movements again, clamping down on his girth until he’s gasping, eyes flying open again, “I’m gonna cum if you — fuck, fuck!”

“Feel that good?” You ask, stupid on his cock. Of course it fucking feels good, you can feel him pulsing inside of you, stretching your walls with every deep stroke. You loosen the grip on his hair in favor of clamping your fingers onto the back of his chair, bouncing with more vigor, unable to contain the pretty moans spewing from your gloss-slick plump lips.

The winding in your belly builds with every deep stroke of Kurt’s cock inside of you, the curved tip brushing at your frontal wall perfectly until you’re mewling, back arching until your chest is flush to his own, his soft baby blue sweater welcoming against your hot skin.

Your gushing cunt begins to drown out the shitty bass thrumming in your ears, sloppy and dripping all down the insides of your thighs and laving at Kurt’s balls. The slick sounds a testament to how turned on you are, and that mixing with his silly little pathetic whimpering is about to do it for you. It builds, and builds, and builds until —

“Say you want me,” Kurt’s voice catches you by surprise — it’s not as high pitched as usual, deep with want as he fucks up into you, doing half the work for you as your body goes limp, exhausted from the impending orgasm that just got washed away in an instant, “Say y-you— say you need me.”

Your cunt clenches, a wave of heat thrumming in your belly at his words. You can’t even reply, at a loss for what to say, unable to focus on anything but the way the tip of his cock grazes your frontal wall and the needy way his big eyes are watching you.

He doesn’t like that you’re not giving him an answer, not giving him what he wants. He whines like a petulant child, fists a hand into your hair and tugs you back until you’re bent backwards, lodged in between the two front seats on the center console. You yelp, crying out at the new angle and the change of pace.

“Say it.” He demands, the pleading look still etched on his face, though his eyes are hardened in a way that’s almost terrifying. It’s hard to focus on the murderous look in his eye when he’s fucking you so rough you feel like you’re bruising, and you’re so weak for it that you’re gushing all over him, like a true sadist creep.

“W-want you, Kurt,” You stutter, unable to hold back your tears when he tugs your hair harder. The song changes, though your ears hardly register it. From this angle you can see the streetlights out the windows, painfully aware now of how open and public this is, how if the cops came you’d both be fucked. It doesn’t help how much you’re enjoying this.

Kurt groans when you finally give him what he wants, the reply he needed, all the anger on his face changing to bliss, “Tell the camera how good my cock is,” He’s smirking at you, gleaming white teeth showing menacingly under the harsh lighting. You tilt your head further back, finally aware that he’s been filming this the entire time — red light on his little gopro that was stuck to the windscreen.

You panic a little when you make eye contact with the camera, aware you’ve given yourself away completely now, so if he were to show this to anybody or post it there was no way to deny it was you. But when Kurt fucks up into you so hard your eyes roll into your skull, the anger and offence disappears as fast as it came.

“Fucking admit it,” His words catch between a plea and an order, whiny at the end as you continue moaning instead of obeying him immediately. Your tummy winds tight, tighter than the hand he has wound in your tresses, the rough tug making your scalp burn, “Do it, you slut.”

“It’s — it’s so good, Kurt. Fuck, oh fuck,” You’re yelping, vision blurring at the edges, his violent words mixing with the harsh way his cock slams into your spongey spot enough to tip you over. Your fingers grip at his sides, talon-like nails raking into his skin hard enough to tear it as you cum, white hot heat spreading through your body as your cunt spasms and clenches around his thick length.

“You — you’re s-so wet,” Kurt stutters, his hips faltering in a telltale sign that he’s close to losing it. You watch him with hazy eyes as he leans forward, upper body engulfing your own, his free hand coming out to squeeze roughly at the swell of your tit, thumb sliding over your tight nipple until you’re moaning for him, pussy pulsing around him.

“Yeah?” Your voice is hoarse and wet, the stinging in your scalp turning to pain and raking a sob from you, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, “Cum in me, then. Make me even wetter, you’d like that, right?”

Apparently, he would. Because your question has him grabbing at your soft breast harder, his hips stilling as his cock pulses inside of you, thick ropes of cum painting your insides. He’s so pretty when he cums that you can’t rip your eyes away, his hazel orbs slipping shut and dusky pink lips parting in a ragged moan.

It’s quiet for a second as the song transitions into something a little quieter, unfamiliar in your ears. So quiet, that you’re able to pick up a small whisper that sends chills down your spine;

“I'm not letting you go now.”

#kurt kunkle smut #kurt kunkle fic #kurtsworld96 smut #kurtsworld96 fic #joe keery smut #my work #mine #my fanfic #x reader

757 notes · View notes

lesbiangiratina · 1 month

Text

Officially published order testament image…

#also more than 1 official* human testament image! yay.#i gotthis volume cuz i saw an old blog post accusing this chapter of copying a different chapter and well.#yeah theres 2 very similar panels but like whatever. the otherchapter didnt have this…#its based on testament’s xx ending where dizzy dies and they have a joker moment #but in the chapter sol swoops in and stops them from killing johnny. tch. fine. whatever…#and dizzy is just fine i guess. its okay.#but well maybe i want to see them kill. a little. is that so bad.#ggxx ohzora comics btw. i tend to ignore those cuz they usually just focus on the new xx charas and well i want My gear.#but i had confirmation of a testament chapter… so i got it…#*these things are licensed but arcsys just kinda let people do Whatever the fuck in them. not canon yadda yadda #but theyre cool. and they should do them again. the amount of content in the x/xx era is so fucked.#the kat goes meow #gg

7 notes · View notes

al-astakbar · 10 months

Text

☆ Kept — Thrawn x reader ☆

> summary ☆ Thrawn reveals a long-held desire

> pairing ☆ Thrawn x reader

> word count [1.8k] ☆ warnings ☆ breeding kink but it’s soft; PIV sex; creampies; cunnilingus; speaking Cheunh; visions of domestic bliss ;-;

> posted on ao3 ☆

You know that Thrawn has always kept parts of himself back. In reserve, waiting for the right moment to play his hand. But this…

“You want to…” the word itself, the very idea sounds shockingly filthy when he says it.

“To breed you, yes.” He tilts his head slightly at the fierce blush that creeps up your neck. “Is that not the correct term in Basic?”

You open and close your mouth several times, feel your heartbeat in your ears as your pulse surges hot with a sudden rush of arousal. “It… is,” you say at last. “But, why? I mean, can Chiss and humans even have babies?”

He nods once, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Oh,” you say faintly, as your mind fills with visions of growing round and big with his child, maybe more than once. Of holding tiny bundles in your arms, of the heartbreaking sweetness of tiny blue hands and fingers and soft, wispy ink-black hair. Wide red eyes glowing up at you from little faces. And Thrawn there, always, gathering you into his family, keeping you safe and close at his side. Once or twice would never be enough for him. He’ll want you constantly, he’ll keep you filled and dripping, and always sated. You swallow hard, then take a few shaky breaths. “I… yes. Please.”

Something fierce comes over him then. He takes you in his arms, bears you down on the bed with a deep, claiming kiss. His mouth is hot on yours, his tongue sweeps in, parting your lips, and he brings a hand up to tangle in your hair.

“Yes,” he repeats between kisses, his accent getting a little less cultured, a little further from the usual cool, modulated tone, “yes, you need this, little one.”

The familiar term of endearment sounds much less innocent now, though it never fails to rouse you, to make you press closer to him in seeking to unravel that knot of tension in your core.

He is still commanding and maddeningly confident. He takes in your reaction with a knowing smile as if he expected nothing less. “You need to be bred. I’ve waited far too long.”

The word, again, makes your heart skip. Makes you hopeful, and lightheaded with need. You hadn’t dared to imagine, before this, that your association with Thrawn could be anything other than temporary. Except now he’s marking you. Now he’s kissing along your jaw, your neck, sucking a bruising kiss there on the sensitive skin too high for your collar to hide. Even before you start to show, everyone will see. It will confirm what the crew of the Chimaera have been whispering about for months. Grand Admiral Thrawn has a little pet. And he intends to keep you.

He has you bare in a moment, rucking your dress up past your stomach and then pulling the straps down to expose your breasts. He likes to watch them as he bounces you on his cock.

You arch to his touch, squirming, desperate for more. Aching to know what it will feel like soon, when they get tender, when your body changes and ripens.

“It will be a lot,” he tells you. “When I fill you up, there will be too much to hold inside you.” He sounds a little breathless at the idea, dizzy at the possibility. You can already feel the hard line of his erection pressed against your hip, and he’s grinding slowly, winding the thread of your desire tighter turn by turn.

He still hasn’t answered-- “why?” Your breath hitches as he reaches down, undoes his button and zip. “Why do you want to…?” Why now?

But it seems to be some instinct Thrawn himself hasn’t quite come around to understanding, though he is beholden to it. The urge to fuck his seed into you until you’re swollen with it, filled to bursting. To keep you barefoot and domesticated and your thighs always sticky with his cum, a testament to his virility.

“There is a phrase in Cheunh. Che’o euhn cabpen.”

“Che’o…My…?” He’s rubbing the head of his cock along the seam of your pussy. Slick, sliding in the wet. You can’t think, can’t get the words from your limited Cheunh.

You steady yourself with your palms against his chest. He hasn’t bothered to take off his uniform. Almost never does. He is broad and strong underneath the pristine white wool.

“My little wife,” he translates, his voice low and raw. He spreads your legs wider, hands on the backs of your thighs, pushes your knees to your shoulders so you’re wide and open. All for him.

Another time, he would get on his elbows and luxuriate in tasting you, press lewd, open-mouthed kisses to your clit. He doesn’t have the patience now. He notches his stiff cock at your entrance and sinks in with a sigh. His glowing red eyes drop closed for a moment. His control over himself is tenuous, and already starting to slip.

You whine at the sting, clenching around him. He groans, and rocks in further, and again. His thick length stretches your pussy, inch by inch until his hips are flush with yours. He opens his eyes.

“Yes, my little wife.” His chest rises and falls with harsh breaths. “Once it takes, you will bear that title, among the Chiss.”

Once it takes, you’ll give him a legacy. The thought of it is intoxicating and powerful. It draws a shiver of desire up your spine, makes you feel just how big he is inside you, how firm and strong he is holding you down as he splits you open. His thrusts deepen, get rougher. He makes you take more, his balls slapping heavily against your ass. Words-- Cheunh and Basic-- tumble from his mouth. One you hear over and over--

“Cssut’sahn?” You ask.

Thrawn’s eyes snap to yours. “Tight,” he gasps. “So-- so tight--” he breaks off with a growl and orders you to touch your clit, he lapses to Cheunh and back again, need to feel you cum. Your fingers find slickness and relief. Close. You circle the spot in time with his driving strokes, everything gripping tighter and tighter and you’re gasping his name. The need to be fucked and filled and owned, the need to be bred, all coalesce to a bright, singular pleasure. It floods your body, making you ripple and flutter around his thick length and then he’s following you. You feel hot spurts of his cum pumping into you, filling you up and overflowing, just like he’d promised. So much of it. It leaks out but he doesn’t stop, he moans and wraps his arms around you, his hips still rolling slowly.

He stays like that for a time, then pulls back so he can look at your belly. He puts a hand flat there on the soft skin, quiet and intent. When he eases his cock out of your pussy it makes a slick sound and then you feel a gush of his cum after. It drips out, down your pussy and ass, onto the sheets. Thrawn watches with fascination and an odd gleam in his glowing red eyes. He scoops some with his fingers and pushes two of them into your oversensitized, dripping hole.

“Thrawn--” it’s too much, your body clamps down and tries to push him out, which makes more of his cum ooze out, coating his hand.

“You’ll need to relax, little one, if I’m to breed you properly.” His voice is again cool and soft. Amused at how pliant you are at his touch.

You moan helplessly at the thought of taking him again. But that is what he’s going to do. He takes pity on you, prepares you, gives you a second orgasm, his fingers stroking inside you at a decadent pace, milking slickness from your pussy. Just as you’re cresting, he dips his head, gives your clit a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss and makes a low, feral sound as you come on his face. While you’re shuddering and whimpering, twitching away from his touch when it overwhelms you, he rises. He buries his cock in the slippery mess of your pussy with one deep thrust, and somehow he feels even bigger than the first time. Thicker and harder. He stuffs you to the brim, setting a hard, deliberate rhythm. Soon, with a stream of more Cheunh, he’s pressing into you deep, his cock twitching and flexing as he pants against your neck.

“It’s important that I fuck you often,” he murmurs, his face pressed to your skin. “Every few hours, until the seeding takes. I know you are sore…” But he only lets you rest for a minute. When you are too tired to keep your thighs open, he turns you over, takes you from behind, pounding into you rough and fast. And when your legs give out, he holds you up, pulling your hips to his, the obscene, erotic sound of flesh on flesh filling the small stateroom. Several times throughout the day, his comm chimes and he has to leave you. He buttons up his uniform, adjusting his rank plaque so it isn’t crooked, and leaves you there on his bed. His toy. He doesn’t have to restrain you or lock the door. You stay, sated and docile, until he gets back. His little wife. The words play over in your head.

You say them back to him when he returns and he allows you an indulgent smile. He enjoys the way you look right now, you can tell. He is more permissive, more attentive than he’s ever been. You feel treasured and delicate, like some particular rare piece in his collection. He turns you over on your back, taking in the sight of you. Your face flushed, eyes glassy with desire, your thighs pink and sticky, pussy swollen and dripping from a whole day of stimulation. He soothes his fingers along your slit, catching more of his spend and pushing it back in. He gives you one last soft, lazy orgasm, coaxing you higher and higher until you’re shuddering, rolling your hips up to his mouth. He speaks more in Cheunh, as if you understand it. You catch a little bit. Him telling you it feels good, doesn’t it, little one. It feels so good for you, to be filled up, to have all my cum inside you.

What you don’t understand now, you’ll learn. You’ll hear it in sweet little voices, you’ll sing it in lullabies. It feels almost taboo to imagine, a vision of years from now, of Thrawn with his temples entirely grey, his white uniform and rank plaque folded in a box somewhere. All his battles won. And you’ll sit with him in a quiet, sunny room and listen as he tells stories to your children.

☆ oh shit tag list i almost forgot ☆

but there is only one :)

@crosshairs-wife

#thrawn #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn fic #thrawn fanfiction #grand admiral thrawn

271 notes · View notes