#and despite everything - all of their chests will get cold | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gojoath · 1 day

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ಣ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ JUST AS HE LEFT YOU, OKKOTSU YŪTA

your (ex) boyfriend yūta decides to pay you a visit on his way home from a mission. although he forgot how pretty you look when you’re asleep.. and how hard it is to resist.

summary. fem reader. yandere yūta. ex boyfriend yūta. obsession. manipulation. stalking. yandere themes. noncon somnophilia -> you wake up. dubcon. pussy inspection. he breaks into your apartment. brief masturbation. aged up characters. wc, 6.1k.

note. repost repost repost :)

your apartment just happens to be on the way home from his mission, yeah that’s it. that’s his excuse, no, not an excuse— his reason, yuuta nods to himself as he stands outside your complex despite the way it’s just past 2am in the morning.

not that he needs a reason to be here anyway, he loves you and you’re his girlfriend, you swore yourself to him— every part of you, so it’s his responsibility to check in on you despite the way he knows you’re asleep. he just has to make sure you’re okay, make sure you’re still his.

he misses you, that’s all the reason he needs.

yuuta’s katana feels heavier than usual as it rests slung over his shoulder, he wishes he could’ve atleast went home to get changed but his desperation for you outweighed anything else when he thought it over in his head. although he didn’t have too much difficulty keeping his clothes free from the insides of the cursed spirit he just finished exorcising, it’d been a while since he’d had any great level of difficulty given his special grade status.

but there’s an ache in his chest since the absence of you, despite the way that he’s not really been without you. he still seen you in everything, everywhere— since he’d memorised the parts of your day that you favoured. it was because of his love for you that he was able to catch glimpses of you doing your grocery shopping or in your favourite cafe. he remembers every part of your routine just so he can see you whenever he wants.

although it did hurt when yuuta had seen you at the movies with that other guy, it must’ve been uncomfortable for you to have a stranger following you around everywhere. he’d noticed him a few times before that, holding your hand or leaning in to kiss you. his girlfriend. you must’ve been so scared. but don’t worry— he made sure to take care of that problem before he managed to make it home that night. it was his duty to protect you afterall, to keep you from harm. to keep you with him.

it’s unnervingly silent, chilling how easy he’s able to make his way up to your apartment floor from the outside— albeit a little impressive as he rests on the ledge of your bedroom window. it’s a path he’s followed so many times before, it’s almost second nature now.

you’re home this time though, so he needs to make sure not to wake you.

another few seconds is all it takes for yuuta to make quick work of the window, to pull it up before expertly slipping through to rest on your vanity. he recognises the shape in the blankets as you by the way you’re resting on the mattress and he finds himself smiling despite the low lighting, you were always so cute he can’t help it.

he sheds himself of his katana first before he rests it gently to the side of your window, followed by his shoes as he politely positions them just short of his blade. another exhale and he feels more comfortable than ever when his feet meet the familiar cold press of your flooring.

yuuta’s footsteps had always been unnervingly quiet and you’d made a few comments before on how unnoticeable his presence was. he was never someone who liked to take up too much space or gather much attention, he’d much rather observe from afar. but that trait worked in his favour when it came to moments like this. he didn’t want to wake you up yet, he knows how much you need your sleep. that’s how good a boyfriend he is.

he takes his first careful step deeper into your bedroom but his eyes remain on you as you breathe softly underneath your blanket, there’s still a soft, gentle smile on his lips and it truly does just seem like a lover observing another. despite the deeper, more twisted sort of relationship that you both actually have.

but yuuta’s self control crumbles piece by piece when he finds himself at the edge of your bed, looking over your still sleeping features and he thinks you’re beautiful even in the dimly lit room as he swallows loudly. his throat feels dry as he takes in the way your lips are parted as your cheek smooshes against your pillow, eyelashes fluttering softly as your eyes rest closed and it’s almost by instinct, the way his fingers reach out to sweep gently along your cheekbones before he flinches back when the touch makes you rouse ever so slightly.

you’re breathing so softly and he swears it must be because you know he’s here, maybe his presence alone is making you sleep better and that fills him with a little sense of pride as he smiles down at you again.

“pretty,” yuuta lets himself admire you there for a few more minutes, to take you in and to make sure nothing bad will happen to you before he leaves. he almost does, but then your eyes squeeze closed and you kick at your comforter slightly before letting out a soft, dreamy whine and it’s not his fault that the pretty sound makes his cock throb in his slacks.

he sucks his lower lip between his teeth to muffle the whimper that it almost earns from him, he’d been so fixated on you that he’d ignored the need that was building in his gut as he stood over you. even when the moonlight is just a sliver outside, it still illuminates you so prettily and the more he looks at you now, the warmer he feels under his clothes, in his own skin and it makes him want to strip it off entirely.

“s-sorry, it hurts, baby.” yuuta whispers as he presses his palm into the bulge in his slacks and it makes him curl forward slightly as his eyes squeeze closed. your breathing has evened out again but you just look so pretty it makes him desperate for a release, you wouldn’t mind him doing this, right? you know how hard it was for him to resist you.

it’s quick the way hes able to unbutton his slacks, to shove them down to his ankles with such silent ease you wouldn’t think he was there at all. the only hint at any presence in your bedroom is the soft, trembled exhale your ex-boyfriend takes when he finally reaches into his underwear to wrap his fingers around the shaft of his cock.

he knows it’s not particularly normal, the way he’s acting but it’s driven by pure devotion, by pure love when his eyes are on you and he lets himself lean forward slightly to get closer.

yuuta swipes his thumb over the already beading pearls of pre-cum gathering at his tip as he stands over you, smearing them along the shaft of his cock to ease his first few, languid pumps of his fist that are so filthily close to your sleeping features. he wishes you were awake, mouth parted— tongue poking out to push your spit along the length of him, he’s sure if he leaned forward a little more he’d be able to press himself between your parted lips while you’re pliant but he won’t, not yet.

“mmfp—“ another strangled whimper is lost as he bites down hard on his lower lip and his unnervingly dark gaze cuts through you as you lie there, so blissfully unaware of your ex-boyfriend currently getting himself off as he stands over where you sleep after breaking into your apartment. his lips part and he follows the next slow stroke of his cock with his hips as he breathes out your name.

part of him wants you to wake up, to see what you do to him— how much he loves you, even still. yuuta’s dark eyes gloss over before they flutter closed, and his legs buck slightly with the pleasure that pours through him as his hips hump needily, cock glistening and disappearing into his fist.

the sight of you makes him burn as he twists his wrist, fingertips squeezing around the sensitive veins of his shaft and he’s so driven by desire, that he finds himself reaching towards you to flick gently at the top of your comforter— letting it pull down lower so he can see the way your tits rest in your pyjamas.

yuuta knows he needs to be careful but he can’t stop himself as his hips twitch, chasing the friction of his fist especially when he’s got you beneath him. he’d neverforget how pretty you are, but you’re real and infront of him now and still so responsive when he lets his free hand edge closer, to swipe along the clothed press of your nipples until they harder under the touch and it makes something pleasurable shoot up his spine as he pants quietly.

another roll of his thumb and your lips part to exhale, something high pitched and pretty he swears he almost cums there and then at the sound as your eyes flutter. the pace of his hand on his cock is faster now as his abdomen tightens, his fingers busying themself with your tits as his lidded gaze eats up your reactions. the way they pebble and poke through your shirt as they harder and he bets if he pressed his hand beneath your panties you’d be soaked— maybe he should check.

but then you shift slightly and yuuta’s hand jumps away from you as you roll over onto your back, kicking at your comforter again until it’s resting just over your knees and revealing even more of your body for him to toy with. it’s like you know it’s him, you must want him to keep going, he knew you missed him just as much as he misses you.

so because he loves you, he lets his approaching orgasm fade as he unravels his fingers from his cock— his dark gaze is fixated on the space between your legs now, the peek of your stomach that’s been revealed with the rise of your shirt due to your movements, and suddenly he knows exactly where he wants to be instead when he realises that you’re only draped in your shirt and a pair of lace panties.

you must’ve known he was coming, right? this is all for him. all of you.

yuuta’s cock is still hard as he kicks off his slacks entirely, letting it rest and throb as he rounds the bed until he’s standing at the bottom and staring up at you like an ominous, haunting presence as he looms in your dark bedroom. he’s still gentle when he finally presses his knee onto the mattress, feeling it dip under his weight and he still moves softly so he doesn’t wake you as he pulls down the remainder of the comforter, revealing you to him completely as he leans over to cage you beneath him.

he feels so much bigger than you at this angle, the sight of your body so soft and pliant underneath him forcing him to squeeze his eyes closed when his cock throbs between your bodies.

“you’re so warm,” yuuta sighs lowly, smiling before he’s dipping his body to bury his face into the crook of your neck. he inhales the all too familiar sweet smell, peppering a few wet, open mouthed kisses along the dip of your shoulder as he earns a soft sigh from your pouty lips, smoothing a slender, cold finger along your cheek affectionately. “i missed you,”

his next exhale is a little more shallow, but still low and careful enough not to wake you before he pulls himself back again, letting himself crawl down your body as he allows his fingers to trace and push the hem of your shirt up higher, and he feels himself grow warmer as he reveals more of your skin to him.

“s-sorry, i can't help it.” yuuta needs to check, especially after that guy he seen you with. you wouldn’t let anyone else touch you that wasn’t him, right? you promised it was all for him, all his—but he needs to be sure. it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, it’s everyone else, he needs to make sure you’re exactly as he left you.

which is what encourages his next, meticulous movements as he pushes himself low enough to be able to pull your thighs over his shoulders, exhaling with a mix of want and relief when his eyes are face to face with the intimate press of your panties against your pussy again. it’s been solong since he’s seen you this close, since he’s been able to taste you and it makes his cock throb from where it’s pressed and leaking into the comforter now.

yuuta’s slender hands make quick work of pulling your panties to the side gently but he almost whines as his lidded gaze locks on the first real look he’s had of your glistening folds in weeks.

but you look.. different, like something, someone’s been stuffed in your pretty pussy that’s not him and it almost makes him pull back to give you an empty, hurt look as his heart rate picks up.

but no, no you wouldn’t— you wouldn’t do that to him, maybe.. maybe you were just needy and he shouldn’t jump to conclusions so quickly. not when yuuta’s seen the expanse of toys you keep hidden away in your bedside table, he’s even seen how you struggle to take them from the times he’s been watching you. even from afar, even from a rooftop over he can still remember how your face would twist as your walls spread so desperately around the silicone.

you’re still his, he knows it in his heart and it’s so perverted the way he swipes his fingers between your folds because he’s so pleased to find you already wet. see—his, he can’t help but feel something jump in his chest at the idea that you did miss him too.

an almost giddy smile graces yuuta’s lips before he returns his attention back to the rough pad of his finger, dragging it beneath the hood of your clit and rolling the sensitive bud, allowing a shaky exhale to fall from his lips when your thighs twitch in response.

“just n-need you,” he almost growls, his eyes lustful and locked on the place between your thighs when he presses down on your puffy clit harder, eagerly, as he spreads your soft thighs wider. he inches himself closer to your folds, knocking his nose softly against your clit and he inhales deep before his fingertips trail lower and he’s pushing one inside of you.

the familiar scent of your heat has yuuta lightheaded, hips twitching into your mattress as his cock throbs against the fabric beneath him, and his eyes almost roll back with how deeply he’s longed to have you like this again. you’ve been holding back on him for so long.

his eyes snap up to you quickly when a faint moan falls from your lips, ceasing his movements until sleep laces your features once more and he places a soft, open mouthed kiss against your clit to soothe you before finally sinking another finger into your warm cunt.

yuuta’s cold fingers scissor you open as he tests you, checking that you’re still as tight as you always were whenever he fucked you as your walls try so, so hard to squeeze down around him. you’re definitely just as greedy as he left you though, as he lets his tongue push out from between his lips to lick softly against you again, whining at the warm taste of you that he’s been craving since you starved him of it.

“you’re still so t-tight,” he whines, bathing your clit in soft kitten licks as his fingers brush against the spongy spot inside of you,

his chest feels tight with how much he wants you and the comforter beneath him feels damp as he presses his cock softly into the bed, rolling his hips in time with the pace of his fingers as he pumps them in and out of your wet heat.

yuuta’s flushed to his chest as he buries himself into your pussy, he can hear the way you’re breathing has turned to soft pants now, accompanied by the way you’re pussy is squeezing around his fingers like you’re trying to pull him deeper. “missed this,” he mutters again, words muffled against your folds as his tongue swipes along your puffy clit again, “s-so much.”

every deep press of his fingers pushes more slick out of you and it’s so lewd the way he eagerly slurps it up, swallowing loudly before hes pulling out his fingers in favour of replacing them with his tongue instead so he can taste even more.

despite the way you remain still above him, yuuta can pick up on how much your body responds to him, like it was made to— so eager for the press of your ex-boyfriend tongue as he pushes past your folds. he curls it into your flexing walls as if you’re an oasis and he’s been deprived of water for weeks— similar to the way he’s been deprived of your love for this long. he’s only taking back what belongs to him.

“it’s so good,” he pants, muffled against your folds and he’s so unaware of the pace his hips have found as he humps himself into the mattress, dizzy on the pleasure and the feeling of finally having you in his arms again.

“can i feel all of you.. please?” yuuta’s begging despite the way he knows you can’t hear him, pleas buried into your pussy so softly they go unheard with how wet you are— squelching lewdly with every press of his tongue deep into your walls and it’s so hard for him to pull himself away. he’s buzzing, cock leaking so needily along his shaft and he’s sweating hard, still connected to your folds with a string of spit as he leans back to push himself to his knees.

it only takes a few seconds before he’s leaning over you again, one hand pressing into the pillows by your head while the other wraps around his shaft— positioning his cock between your folds. but he lets it glide through instead of sinking into you right away, letting himself hump against you as each withdrawal of his hips makes a loud, wet sound— coating his shaft in a mess of slick and his spit as he teases himself with the tight squeeze of your walls that’s so close.

yuuta curls over you as his eyes squeeze shut, but he’s so desperate to look at you as he ruts you into the mattress, to watch your eyes roll beneath your eyelids as your brows pull into a pretty, pleasured frown.

it’s like your body is begging for him when he peeks his lidded gaze open to look down at your tits again, nipples still hard underneath your pyjamas and he’s so overcome with want that he can’t help but duck his head to take your right nipple into his mouth. “i’ve w-waited for you,” his tongue circles around the fabric, muffling his words as he soaks it with his spit. he picks up the pace of his hips and he feels so dirty, like a badly behaved dog humping his owner despite the way his pace stutters with how good it feels, “until you were ready for me,”

yuuta grazes his teeth along the sensitive skin of your tits and he feels you shudder beneath him as he sends you a slow blink, checking to see if you’re awake yet with how much your body is rising to him now. you can’t be far from it, but he’s so close now he doesn’t think he can stop. he can’t bare the idea of you kicking him out again.

the feeling of your pussy against his cock is hot and aching, but it burns him in the best way because your skin against his is like fucking silk. he leaves your chest before he drools more kisses up to the crook of your neck, laving his tongue along your jawline and cheeks as he pushes more weight onto his arm— letting him rut into you harder as he feels you stir beneath him.

“p-please don’t wake up,” yuuta whimpers, he’s flushed to his chest and so fucked out— he can’t stand to keep it in anymore when you’re giving into him so easily. he doesn’t think he could stop even if he wanted to, but with the way he can feel you getting wetter beneath him with every thrust of his cock through your folds, he knows you wouldn’t want him to. you love him.

you stir beneath him again and he’s so unaware of the way he’s panting now, drooling and licking at the space beneath your ear as he marks you with his saliva, feeling your clit graze along the sensitive underside of his cock as he presses into your harder.

yuuta’s burning up, making a mess of the space between your thighs as his cock desperately drools precum along your skin and it’s so filthy the way he’s rubbing himself against you, making goosebumps burst along his skin as he offers you another drowsy, lustful look from his place over you.

your eyes are still closed and the tip of his cock catches on the hood of your clit, followed by a wet, tacky sound that makes him gasp but it makes a pretty moan pour from your lips as his body tenses up at the sound.

his hips stutter and yuuta cums with a tight lipped “i love you.” smeared along your cheeks as his cum lands messily across your skin, painting you in his seed as his body crumbles under the weight of his orgasm. it’s dizzying, making him sway as he tries to keep himself steady but he doesn’t realise the way your eyes start to flutter open beneath him, still dazed with sleep until your drowsy voice pierces through the room.

“huh?” you begin and your ex-boyfriend freezes in his place over you, it takes you a few moments to realise the situation you’re in. pinned to your bed at almost 3am after your ex has broken into your apartment and used your body to get himself off— soiling you in his cum. the realisation makes you tremble before you begin to struggle beneath him.

you try to push him off but he grabs your hand, so you opt to open your mouth to scream next, “yuuta! get out, what the fu—“ but yuuta is quick to cover up your words with his other palm as he shushes you, leaning his weight onto your body to stop you from kicking out beneath him as he presses you tight against the mattress. you wouldn’t want to wake the neighbours afterall, he doesn’t want you to end up embarrassed when they figure out it’s not an intruder.. it’s just a misunderstanding, he’s your boyfriend.

“baby, it’s me.. it’s me.” his words are so soft as he presses kisses along your cheeks, meaning to soothe you despite the way he can taste the salt of your tears along your cheeks now. he thinks you look relieved to see him, he could almost cry too— now that you’re back together. he can feel the way you’re sobbing against his palm.

“s-sorry, shhhh, i didn’t mean to scare you,” maybe he should’ve told you he was coming, yuuta thinks as he feels you try to push out from beneath him again, but he’s so strong above you. he keeps you pinned, with both his body and his gaze as you hold it with your own, his cold stare keeping you in place with the shiver it makes jolt down your spine.

“i’m here now,” another soothing hum and he feels the way your body relaxes beneath him, albeit more survival instinct than anything else as he eases himself away from you slightly— still sticky from his lingering pleasure as he gives you a soft smile.

your eyes are still wide as you look up at him, but yuuta loosens his grip over your mouth in favour of brushing his cold fingers softly against your cheek instead. he feels the way it makes you shudder beneath him, your body was probably so desperate for his touch by now, with how long it’s been since he’s had you like this. he’s sure you must think you’re still asleep, dreaming maybe—

“please, baby. just stay still.” he drawls as he noses against your cheek, tongue lolling out to lick messily at the corner of your lips— he feels you go to turn away from him, but he knows it must’ve been an accident when you still make it so easy for him to catch you. like a cute little game of making him work for it.

“yuuta,” you try again and it’s adorable the way your voice trembles before yuuta presses his lips against yours finally. you must be nervous with how long it’s been since you’ve been together— maybe you’re embarrassed at how wet you are already because your words are begging for him to finally make you cum now. it’s your turn.

“see, it’s okay,” the kiss is full of teeth but your mouth doesn’t part the way it normally does, “p-please,” is groaned against your lips as your ex-boyfriend forces his tongue between them, humming when you finally stop resisting him and melt into him like you’re supposed to.

he didn’t like when you teased him like this, he just wants to love you.

yuuta’s eyes close as his mouth moves slowly with yours, but his grip on your arm remains tight when his free hand moves to your hips and he keeps you pressed beneath him. you’re giving into his movements now, chasing the twist of his tongue as it pushes against yours and you whimper when he nibbles at your lower lip.

the kiss breaks wet and his hips rock into yours despite the over sensitivity that makes him sting, but you spread your thighs for him so eagerly it’s easy for him to ignore as he rubs his cock against your still glistening folds.

“does it feel good?” yuuta asks, sweetly despite the threatening hold his eyes have on yours. but you nod— eyes still glistening with unshed tears despite the dampness that still dries against your cheeks from the previous ones.

your pussy makes a wet tacky sound with the next withdrawal of his hips, and you both gasp when the head of his cock catches on the entrance to your cunt before he begins to finally sink carefully up inside you. he’s met with little resistance and it’s made easy by the wet press of his cum and your slick, like your own make-shift lube as his hand squeeze and pull your hips closer to his.

you’ve relaxed enough now for him to let your hand move freely, most likely dizzy from the way he’s gliding against your sweet spots in a way that makes your whole body twitch. your pussy squeezes around him and it’s so lovingthe way yuuta rocks himself into you, curling forward to nuzzle into the crook of your neck as he reaches to intertwine his hands with your own now. a stark opposite to the bruising grip he had on them a few seconds ago.

“mmm, i.. i missed this,” his words are soft despite the way he’s forcing your walls to spread open for him, moulding you to his shape— he wants to break you for anyone else. he feels something ache deep in his stomach, desire heavy to make love to you for aslong as he lives and each laboured breathe he takes holds another strangled i love you as your legs wrap around his hips to squeeze.

you only reply with a sound that’s high pitched and needy when the weight of his hips finally rest against yours and he bottoms out, but it still earns you a soft kiss against your cheek as his hands squeeze affectionately against yours.

yuuta’s content with just bathing you in soft pecks of his lips while his cock stays deep inside of you, still half clothed and his chest pressing against yours, but he knows you need more. he can tell by the way your thighs are twitching around him, your walls trembling around the weight of his cock like you’re eagerly begging him to move, to finally fuck you.

because you’ve been waiting for him, right? that’s why you’ve saved yourself for him to come back.

“say it and i’ll move, baby. please?” his voice is low but it’s unwavering, followed by another wet kiss against the corner of your lips as he gives you a look,

“yuuta,”

“i haven’t heard it in so long,” another kiss and he’s pretty sure he can feel the way your heart is beating against your ribs, he thinks it’s so cute that he can still make your heart race like this. even now, after so long. love is funny like that.

“i.. i love you, i missed you.” you eventually admit, bending to yuuta’s will like you’re a curse under his control, but he rewards you for your efforts when he finally pulls his hips back. he drags his cock out of you as his hands stay intertwined tight with yours, but your pussy bears down on him so eagerly, trying to lure back in every inch you lose before he’s beginning a steady pace with another slow withdrawal.

“i know, baby.” he mutters against your cheek as he twists into you and your pussy squeezes around him in response, his words lighting a fuse that fizzles into something that feels even better as his body rocks seamlessly with yours. “i love you so much,”

another adorable whimper leaves you when yuuta pulls back to lean over you slightly, holding your gaze as he lets go of one of your hands to cup your cheek instead. he offers you a few more kisses, smearing them across your jawline then your lips as his hips work to meet the encouraging pull of your cunt, sucking him in with every wet, clapping thrust.

the pace he’s set isn’t fast but it’s driven by his obsessionfor you, pouring it into the cracks he’s wormed his way into in your heart and body as your chest stays tight with his. he kisses your skin again, teeth nipping playfully before he’s lapping over the sensitive spots that make you twitch deeper into his hold.

“it’s been so, s-so long,” yuuta smiles softly, holding your gaze and the touch of his cold fingertips across your cheek has you nodding as he sweeps at the drying tears on your skin,

“heh, you look so p-pretty, mmf—“ he emphasises the compliment with a few sharp thrusts that make you tremble beneath him before his pace inevitably speeds up, but he keeps himself just as close as he’s always been as he holds you gently.

despite his previous orgasm, yuuta already feels so close again— it had been so long since he’d been buried in you like this, after you’d been holding out on him. but he wasn’t one to hold a grudge, not against you, because he’s back now and he won’t let you out of his sight again. although the grip he has on your intertwined hands is sure to snap if he holds it any tighter.

your eyes glimmer with lust as he sends you another blink and it makes him burn even warmer when you look at him like that, your tight pussy baring down around him and you both gasp before it breaks into something needier. he slows his pace slightly, deliberately pressing his pelvis tight to bump against your clit as you shudder beneath him and he smiles,

“can you keep looking at me, please?” it’s an innocent little proposal despite the less than innocent actions that have brought you both here, but you hold yuuta’s gaze as he speaks when it’s accompanied by the stutter of his hips. “i’m already s-so close.. i want you to see.” to see what you do to him, what your love does to him.

“o-okay.” and so he gives more to you. has given more to you than he has to anyone else, and you bask in it and give back all that you can, all that he can take as he presses his forehead against yours. he inhales the sweet familiar scent of you that’s now mixed with his and he feels something carnal boil in his stomach.

yuuta repositions his knees and takes up a pace that’s a little faster, rougher, pounding into you mercilessly as he marks your insides as his between soft kisses along your cheeks and forehead as he makes his way across your features. a groan kicks out of his chest when the harsh slap of his hips makes your thighs tighten around him, and you feel your own hips tremble along with your lungs with the way it feels like he ignites something in you, even if it’s in his own little twisted way.

your insides curl and ache as your lips drop open to moan his name and his own ragged breathing cools the spit over your ignited nerves. your nails dig into the back of his hand while the other scratches along his shoulder as you arch your back into his chest and he eats up your reactions like he would your entirety if you’d let him.

“i-im gonna.. ngghh—“ a few more long, drawn out moans of your name and yuuta can’t help the way he gives into you as he pulls back to look at you again— his gaze holding yours as he spills hot and thick inside of you with more slurred i love yous between trembled breathes. the mess between your thighs only grows with intensity as he fucks his load into you, eager to dig out your own orgasm as he pulls away to thumb at your clit.

you’re more than eager to give into him all the same after a few more stuttered thrusts and flicks of his wrist, the hot rush of bliss and warmth settling over your skin when you cum. your head drops back into your pillows and your eyes threaten to roll back before you feel a tight grip squeeze along your jawline to keep you in place.

“o-on me, baby. please, don’t look away.” yuuta’s words are rough despite how intense your orgasm is, almost making you see white if it wasn’t for the way his gaze swallows that light entirely. so you look at him as he fucks you through it, only stopping when his hand trembles with the aftermath of overstimulation as his body blankets you.

the moments after feel like they stretch on forever for you, but the man over you feels like he’s in heaven as his fingers trace messy little heart shapes into the back of your hand. but you’re just there, staring wide eyed up at your bedroom ceiling as the weight of what just happened settles into your bones.

“can we stay like this?” the low drawl cuts through the silence as your eyes remain on the space above you, but you can feel the way yuuta’s staring at you in the goosebumps that raise along your skin, he’s close enough for his dark hair to graze along your cheeks. like he’s examining you up close.

“okay,” your words scratch slightly in your throat but your response, albeit short, still earns you another peck to your lips before he’s pulling away to send you another smile. his hands are still cold when you feel him massage them along your hips, then up your waist, then back down again as he tries to soothe out the tension he can sense in you.

“i love you,” yuuta speaks again, like it’ll make everything better, like it’ll remind you that at the root of everything— he loves you, everything he does is driven by his devotion to see you happy. happy beside him, that is. isn’t that the place that’ll make you feel your most fulfilled? by his side. it would be better for everyone, if you just accepted it, maybe then people would stop getting hurt because of you.

he hears the way you swallow, clearing your throat but he still looks at you softly because he could recognise the way you look at him anywhere and it makes his cheeks burn to the tips of his ears.

“i love you too, yuuta.”

#cw yandere #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #okkotsu yuta smut #okkotsu yuuta smut #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #cw noncon somno #cw somnophilia #okkotsu yuta x you #yuuta x reader #yuuta smut

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teenidlegirl · 3 days

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꣑୧ ݁.﹒𝓖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄 .ᐟ

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ miguel o’hara 𝓍 fem!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 ˖ ׁ ⁩ .ᐟ you never wanted your love to end but you will never be his again. time to say goodbye to the past, to the memories that will always be kept safe in your broken heart.

˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 ˖ ׁ ⁩ .ᐟ angst, established relationship, breakup, relationship negligence, no happy ending

( ꯭♡︎ ) ˖ ࣪ . love note ˒˒ heavily based on “goodbye” by marina, one of my favs of hers. i was feeling sad so i wrote this. ngl i did get a bit emotional writing this. also, first time writing pure angst.

in the beginning, it was all perfect. you found the perfect partner to spend your life with. miguel was a miracle, the light you were seeking for. you were his too, as if you were meant for each other. you truly believed that; believed in love. every minute spent with him was precious, savoring it. he treated you so well, like a man worshipping his queen. such a real gentleman. everything he did always took your breath away, making your heart flutter even if it was the smallest thing. no matter what, even if he got home late, he always made time for you.

but, unfortunately, that changed.

as time went on, three years into the relationship, the rose petals began falling apart one by one in a slow fashion. those late nights of him coming home became a repetitive affair. you would stay up just to see him, not caring if you were losing sleep. once he showed up, a simple kiss on the forehead and a muttered “miss you” were his way of acknowledging you before heading to the bathroom to shower then head straight to bed, not even waiting for you.

this tedious thing continued on. by the time you wake up, empty sheets were beside you. everyday has been spent with loneliness. you knew miguel was a hardworking, dedicated man. he worked at alchemax, a time-consuming job. he was considered one of the best employees so it was expected of him to busy most of the time. but you didn’t think it would lead to him coming home so late. part of you felt selfish because you know how much he loved his job and how important it was. however, you can’t help but miss your boyfriend. even if it was for a few minutes just hugging each other would be enough.

but the petals continued to fall.

the late nights were so tedious to the point you gave up and went straight to bed. miguel would come home so damn late, walking in the door at 4:00 in morning. you stopped leaving leftovers for him since the food you made were untouched and left cold. he was so fucking busy that he started canceling dates, especially last minute. at first, you understood due to his job. but he kept doing it to the point that you got so sick of it. your boyfriend was barely around anymore. you felt so lonely. some nights, tears ran down your face as you softly cried to yourself.

that’s when you realized the spark died.

the relationship was falling apart, crashing down like a paper plane. miguel was neglecting you, neglecting the relationship you built together. it seemed like he was dating his job more than his girlfriend. that’s what pissed you off. you couldn’t take it anymore.

as much as you didn’t want your love to end, you didn’t want to live in this place of isolation and negligence. you had to end it all.

━━━━━━━━ ִ ۫ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ۫ ݂ ━━━━━━━━

nervously fiddling with your hands, heart pounding in your chest, you sit at the dining table waiting for miguel to come home. he texted that he got off early, for the first time. that was your green light to tell him it’s over, despite how much you don’t want to. the anxiety flowing through your body makes you a bit nauseous. part of you is afraid of his reaction. but honestly, would he care much since he’s been a neglectful asshole? you just have to wait and see.

the sound of door unlocking makes your heart stop for a moment. with anxious eyes, you watch your boyfriend enter the apartment.

“hola, mi alma.”

the nickname and soft smile on his face hurts you. that’s the first time in two months since he smiled at you, actually happy to see and acknowledge you.

he must’ve notice your anxious expression the way his brows furrowed a bit. “what’s wrong—“

“sit down, miguel.”

tension fills in the room.

with a confused expression, miguel obeys and sits across from you. “¿que pasa, mi amor? did something happen? did someone say something to you? did they hurt you? if they hurt you, i’ll—“

“you hurt me, miguel.”

those mahogany eyes went wide. “wh-what?” he sounds in pure disbelief.

“you’re the who hurt me.” audible pain in your voice, making him flinch. “these past two fucking months have been so shitty. i’ve never felt so miserable.”

miguel was about to say something but you continue on, not giving him the fucking chance.

“i-i feel so fucking alone in this relationship. i’m not even sure if this is a relationship anymore.” you scoff. “because you’ve been neglecting it, neglecting me.”

his stomach drops. oh he fucked up.

“it feels like a one-sided relationship, one-sided love. i’m the only one who’s making an effort, and i’m fucking tired of it, miguel!” you voice raises a bit.

“mi amor, i—“ he chokes. “i-i’m sorry. i didn’t—“

“look,” you cut him off again. “i understand how important your job is. believe me, i tried my best. but you completely forgot there’s more than just your job!” a thin layer of tears begin forming in your eyes. “you come home late and i don’t see you! i wake up and you’re gone! you cancel dates all the time or never show up!” you’re practically shouting.

the tears in your eyes makes his heart crack, making his own swell in tears as well.

“i miss you, miguel! i miss you all the fucking time! i tried to be understanding but i’m fed up!” you cried, a few tears trailing down your flushed cheek.

a single tear drop from his eye falls down his face. his heart breaks at your sad yet truthful words. miguel knew his was way too focused on work. but fuck he didn’t realized how it affected you to the point of making you cry. and he hates it when you cry, especially if it’s him that you made.

“mi amor, i-i’m so sorry. i’m so sorry for making you feel like this. i was so invested with work, i didn’t realized-“

“exactly, you didn’t realized because you were dating your job than your girlfriend.”

that sentence hurts him, because it’s the truth. oh he really fucked up big time.

“i-i…” he struggles to find the right words.

“it’s over, miguel.”

now that shatters his heart completely.

“w-wait, mi amor. please—“ miguel panics, reaching out to you but you back away. his heart breaks more.

you shake your head, tears continuously falling down your cheeks. “it’s over, miguel. i can’t be the only one putting effort into this relationship. i don’t wanna be lonely and ignored anymore.”

now he’s the one crying. “pl-please, mi alma. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. please don’t leave me. i promise to do better, to be better. please, just give me a chance. i need you, i can’t live without you. just please, mi alma. don’t leave me.”

“you’re the one who left me, miguel.”

miguel though his heart couldn’t break even more. he doesn’t want to lose you. he needs you, you’re his anchor, his sole reason to continue on, his reason to work so hard for. but that’s the exact reason why he’s losing you, was too invested in his work that he completely neglected you, the love of his life. pushed your needs and love away. now he has to suffer the consequences. to suffer the one fear he was deeply afraid of: losing you. especially by his own actions.

“i never wanted our love to end.” you flash him a sad smile, tears blurring your vision.

a night of tears, regret and sorrow. after the whole shitshow, you left. you packed all of your stuff because you knew this was your last time in this apartment. you weren’t going to stay any longer. despite how times miguel begged you not to go, even got down on his knees and cried out endless sorrys, you grabbed your bag and left.

miguel cried the entire night.

━━━━━━━━ ִ ۫ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ۫ ݂ ━━━━━━━━

it’s been eights months since the breakup. the tearful nights dimmed down but heart still broken. the aftermath is worse than the breakup. broken hearts are quick to burn but slow to heal. you’re not sure how long it will take for yours to heal.

you haven’t seen or spoken to miguel since. it’s ideal of course. after the breakup, you deleted his number and anything associated with him. before you did, he messaged you about giving him a chance to talk, to express his regret but you didn’t allow that. you were smarter than that. despite how much you still love him, you can’t let him in again. you can’t go through tears again, it would break you even more.

you truly never wanted your love to end. it was perfect from the start but not everything has a happy ending. that’s how life is. but your love is safe inside your memories, stored away in the back.

in the end, you will never be his again.

he had to say goodbye to the girl that he lost.

as you take one final look at pictures of you and miguel that were taken during your relationship before deleting them, you tell yourself one thing.

goodbye, my friend.

#꒰ ˖ ࣪ . 𐙚 ⊹ ꒱ — 𝓞𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 .ᐟ #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #oneshot

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wolven91 · 6 hours

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Introducing; The Hyenids

Warren rubbed at his wrists.

Despite being out of the cuffs for over an hour now, he could still feel them compressing his wrists until the bones grinded against one another. When the draconian merchant, or rather kidnapper and slaver, had turned on the bright lights and blinded him, he’d expected his torture to continue.

The young man still remembered the words that made his blood run cold.

“We’ll take ‘im.” Declared the looming shadow that had the comparatively tiny human shrinking away, despite his arms still being latched to the wall of the merchant’s vessel.

But that was an hour ago and his new ‘owner’ had appeared to collect their purchase.

It was a towering hunched creature, with a dark brown mohawk that ran from the top of it’s head, up and over the hunch before disappearing beneath it’s armour. It grinned wickedly with dangerous looking fangs. To Warren’s eyes, it’s body was a sea of scars and overdeveloped muscle. He took a guess that she was female based on the cleavage, but she looked as if she could tear a book in half with ease.

She grabbed ahold of his elbow and roughly led him away, a whimper escaped him.

This thing was massive, easily ten feet tall and all claws, teeth and muscle. At least the merchant had left him alone. What did this thing want?!

The march was brisk and silent as the grave. Warren focused on his feet, keeping his head low and doing everything he could not to burst into tears and beg them to let him go, to not hurt him. To just leave him alone.

The others had horror stories that they told one another when it was quiet and they were supposed to be asleep. Warren didn’t have any to add, he was a ‘new’ acquisition, was what the draconian had said. They’d taken him from a market place. One moment of needing to step away from the crowd and large, scaled hands had grabbed him.

“Boss!” Shouted a new voice, a brief glance upwards and Warren saw a new creature, similar in appearance to his current captor, but different enough to tell them apart.

“Since when we slavers? The crew ain’t ‘appy ‘bout this! Boss, *I* ain’t ‘appy ‘bout this.” Urged the newcomer, obviously pointing a clawed, meaty finger as Warren. He just kept his head down, the less they knew he was there, the less likely something bad would happen to him.

“We ain’t slavers.” The one holding warren retorted, before releasing the smaller human with a small shove forwards that felt like freight train had just tapped him. Warren stumbled forward into the oversized hands of the newest arrival, who just held him in place.

“I’ll get us away, n’ send a signal to the clan, n’ track the tracer I’ve dumped on their ship. Ain’t nobody ‘round ‘ere gonna’ be able to afford the rest of ‘em. We got a good few weeks to raid that asshole…” Explained the large canine-like creature. They weren’t canids, not by a long shot, but that was the only specie that they even remotely resembled. The one now holding Warren grunted with a nod, satisfied with the leader’s words.

“And get this’un somethin’ t’ eat. Damn thing’s gonna’ turn inside out by the looks of ‘im.” She ordered, jabbing a finger warren’s way.

Without warning or any say in the matter, Warren was bodily lifted and thrown over the shoulder of the newcomer and carried away as the, seemingly, leader of the crew closed up the ramp and marched off before the human lost sight of her.

Shortly afterwards, he was brought into what could have only been a canteen. It was messy, old food stains had long since dried and were flaking off the walls and floor. The whole room was alive with similar looking creatures. Some wore armour, others; jumpsuits, some wore nothing at all. It was only because of this, Warren mentally realised that he may have been off on his guess of genders with these creatures.

They all sported chests that would make any man blush, but when his eyes naturally were drawn down the ‘nude’ creatures, he found that every one also sported significant endowments between their legs too. The whole room’s eyes were on him, the lights over head played with their gaze, some of their pupil turning reflective as they stared at him.

“’Ey! We ain’t slavin’! The boss has gone mad if their thinkin’ we’re gonna’ accept this!” Called one, which got the crowd to murmur and agree, their large heads bobbing in agreement. Warren could only glance around, petrified at the room full of at least thirty or forty dangerous looking creatures. Spikes and piercings adorned them. Some had weapons in their hands, from crude clubs to sharpened blades. They all had the posture of those who weren’t afraid. Neither for themselves nor to get what they wanted.

Raiders? Marauders? Although, based off what he’d heard, Warren couldn’t confidently pin ‘slaver’ to them. The one carrying him shouted back to the room, rather than addressing the one that spoke.

“We ain’t slavers! This un’ was all we could get our hands on.” She jostled the young man roughly as she spoke, punctuating her words. “The clan are comin’ to free the others by the tracker Boss snuck on the slaver’s ship.” She explained as she made her way to the far end of the canteen although Warren couldn’t see where she was going. He lay there, draped over her shoulder, his arms laying against the inch thick fur that was surprising soft, even with the diamond hard muscles that rippled underneath.

“So what that’un?” Shouted another voice on the other side of the room to the original that spoke. The one that carried him grunted.

“Hungry. Is wha’ he is. Get ‘im some food!” She demanded before Warren was once more lifted and brought down, placed on the floor at the feet of all these strange creatures. The one that carried him turned away and began to leave, Warren wanted to sprint after her… him? Them. Instead he remained rooted to the spot until they had left and the whole hall turned in unison at him.

He came very close to pissing himself in fear at the sight of an entire pack of giant bipedal hyenas all staring at him, some licking their chops with lines of spittle dangling down...

== 0 ==

Twenty minutes later, Warren had the fattest, largest steak he had ever seen sat on a large flat piece of metal still sizzling in front of him. It was easily an inch thick and wider than his whole torso. The idea he could eat all of this was a joke, but his growling stomach promised a good attempt.

The crew found it hilarious that he wouldn’t just pick up the meat and eat it, but one rather friendly Hyenid, as he found out what they were called, had taken out a gigantic bowie knife from their belt and sliced it into much smaller chunks. His fingers were greasy with fats, oils, salts and herbs that the chef had cooked it in. It tasted like the best steak Warren had ever eaten. Whether that was from his hunger or their skill, he didn’t care.

“So, you can’t smell?” Asked one, reaching over to touch Warren’s face and nose, only to have the same bowie knife that had cut his steak to appear, blade pointed towards the speaker, right between her fingers. The overprotective Hyenid shoved the knife towards the hand which had the speaker retract their hand, or risk the webbing between their fingers get sliced open.

“He eats first.” The wielder of the knife grumbled before shaking the bench Warren was sat on as she heavily sat down. They scooted forwards until their massive legs were touching his hips and their body was only inches away from his shoulder. He could feel her fur tickling him.

Warren chewed quickly and swallowed.

“I can smell, just not to the same degree as you guys… or many species.” He admitted, each of the creatures, still crowding him, but hanging on his every word.

“He’s tiny.” Whispered one, far too loudly.

“Is he one of the crew?” Asked another.

“What’s ‘is species called again?”

“I’m a hu-.”

“A ‘ooman!” Shouted one near to his back, obviously having heard him the first time, but talking over him now.

The crowd ‘aahed’ . It was weird being the centre of attention, and whilst they obviously had no personal boundaries, what with the overprotective Hyenid leaning forward and very obviously sniffing the young man, they weren’t the worst set of aliens he’d met before.

Being picked up like a sack of potatoes and having no manners was certainly not a deal breaker.

“Ey! Question!” Called another, Warren having long since given up trying to figure out names.

“What?” Called another.

“Where’s he sleepin’ tonight?”

The room went suddenly quiet, only broken by the loud anxious gulp as Warren swallowed a half-chewed chunk of meat and broke into a nervous sweat, now that all eyes were on him again.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #hyena #hyenid #hermaphrodite

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iocity · 2 days

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ASL ‘Merica AU where Sabo feels guilty about involving his brothers in his conflicts with his biological parents. They are real bona fide assholes, and Sabo does not in any way want to reconnect with them, but they are PERSISTENT. With every yelled word bouncing off the walls of the brothers shared home, Sabo’s guilt grows. He stopped believing when they said they would change years ago, but he can’t seem to shake them off.

Sabo who doesn’t tell his brothers how he feels because they have their own problems, their own struggles that seem so much bigger than old parent problems. He is supposed to be strong. He is sure that in a house of people with “real” issues, his won’t matter.

Sabo who can’t help but get angry when he has to deal with his biological family, but not regular angry. It sticks for the whole day, onto the next, and that same feeling of guilt creeps up the back of his neck. He hates how his brothers seem to walk on eggshells around him when he is in his moods, but he can’t stand to pretend to be in a sunny mood he is not in (his brothers can tell anyway). He snaps because his parents are the knife in his side, and he is in pain.

Sabo who hates crying, because crying means his parents have won the nonexistent but constantly present battle between them. Crying means that they have made him weak again, made him helpless, made him remember what he used to be. Guilt is met with shame, and shame accompanied by sorrow and anger. His own reflection an overwhelming cacophony of everything he hates. His mother’s lips, his father’s eyes; his own genetics betray him. He feels his parents in him, and he braces himself as fear overtakes him; his hands grip the wall as he silences his breaths.

Sabo who holds his breath to exact his control, to break their hold over him. His breath can’t shake if he doesn’t let it out; his eyes can’t cry if his heart is trying to escape his chest. If he is in control he can be cold, calculated; he can give his parents what they deserve. What they gave to him. To him, it’s logic, it’s reason, and it’s strength.

Sabo who can’t help the jolt that runs through him when he feels arms around him, his chest heaving with warm air, the ache within him worsening. He has been pulled out of his control and into the warmth and unpredictability of his brothers’ arms. All at once he is melting, and it shows in the way his chest heaves into a sigh, then a sob, in the way that water flows down his cheeks until he is sure there is a puddle under him, and in the way that he reaches blindly for them through his tears. They are already there.

Sabo whose apologies fall on deaf ears, because they don’t give a damn about his parents (something they now make sure to tell him often), they give a damn about him.

Luffy who can’t help but cry too, because Sabo is not only his older brother, but his heart. Not by blood but by choice which, for him, means so much more. It’s only natural to cry when your heart hurts. He clings to Sabo, hoping to solidify his presence, because he is there. He isn’t a thought or a feeling, he isn’t fleeting. He is permanent. Heart to heart, warm and present. He doesn’t understand; he never cared much about things like his biological family. Despite that, he is shifting to his feet, making Sabo’s favorite snack consuming mind because his words often fail him but his hands rarely do. Food brings people together, right? He hopes Sabo is hungry, so they can eat together.

Ace whose clenched jaw, deep frown, and furrowed brows speak for him. ‘Why didn’t you tell us? Why did you do this alone?’ But he’ll nag later, because first and foremost he is the oldest brother. So for now Ace will hold his little brother while he cries and control the anger bubbling up within him, not only at Sabo’s parents, but at the world. He is unmoving even when Sabo has stilled from his crying, silent when Luffy wriggles out of their grip to grab snacks for them. As still and permanent as rock, letting Sabo lean on him until he finds the strength to walk on his own.

Sabo whose guilt and shame crashes against the corners of his mind, frustration rising because he is full of feelings he doesn’t recognize and therefore can’t control.

Sabo who is spiraling until a warm gas station honeybun is being shoved under his nose by forceful hands, ratty sandals being tucked aside as Luffy sits criss-cross in front of him with a plate of his own, Ace’s plate balancing on Luffy’s straw hat. A hand is on his neck as he rocks back and forth slowly, looking nervous.

“I don’t think it was supposed to be microwaved with the wrapper on y’all.”

“You’re shitting me.”

Sabo who hears Ace cursing about the house being rented and microplastics, and Luffy arguing back despite knowing he is in the wrong.

Sabo who laughs. In disbelief, in amusement, in insanity. He can’t tell anymore, but he feels the waves stilling in his mind, replaced with the sound of his brothers’ quarreling and his own laughter. Because they don’t give a damn about what he perceives to be weakness; he doesn’t need to feel ashamed.

Sabo who knows his life isn’t fixed and who knows he will have to talk to his brothers eventually, but who also loves his brothers and warm gas station honey buns. Sabo who feels at home in this familiar warmth.

“Man, I love you guys.”

Masterlist!

Tags c|:D : @porschethemermaid

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daintyshu · 3 days

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𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

xiv. bitchless hoon (1.5k written)

"hey, i didn't manage to ask you why you left early on wednesday," sunghoon questions you as he wipes down the counter.

you, him and jennie had just finished the lunch crowd at the cafe that friday and you were finally able to breathe. this is why you hate working opening shifts on friday; the crowds just come in all at once, not even letting you warm up just as you clock in.

"wait, how'd you know?" you question back, smiling at a customer leaving the shop, wishing them a good day and to come back. "i have my ways," he wiggles his eyebrows repeatedly at you as a devious smile grew on his lips.

you cross your arms, giving him a pointed look as you tapped your foot impatiently. that seemed to do the trick and he laughs, ruffling your hair despite it being tied up. "i'm kidding, y/nie. i dropped by for a while that night but jay said you left early,"

you give him a dismissive wave of a hand when he raises an eyebrow at you, as if asking for an explanation. "ahh, it was nothing. was feeling a little down so chaeyoung unnie let me go off early and she took me out,"

"like, on a fun day out?" he jokingly asks and you smack him on the shoulder. "i'm kidding, obviously. saw you went on a date with jay too," he proceeds to nudge your shoulders, wiggling his eyebrows at you teasingly while you only roll your eyes. never a dull shift with sunghoon.

"it was NOT a date," you clarified as you topped up the plastic cups while he looked for something to do to keep his hands busy. "jongseong just wanted to cheer me up, so he brought me out too,"

he frowns at this. "what's with them all trying to cheer you up? what happened? i mean, only if you're okay with telling me,"

you pause, contemplating whether this was something significant enough about you to tell him. then again, donghyuck already knew about it too so there wasn't any reason to not tell sunghoon. after all, you were closer with sunghoon than you were with the older boy. so you told him everything.

"you know what? i'm taking you out after work to cheer you up," sunghoon announces after several empty threats of how it's "on sight" if he ever sees heeseung.

"you really don't have to, hoon. all of you didn't have to, i'm really fine, i just didn't expect to see him again after so long," you told him honestly.

well, half-honestly.

it still bothered you that you and heeseung's relationship ended abruptly without your input. but you're happy with how your life is right now so it doesn't really matter anymore.

"so you don't want to go out with me after work?" sunghoon pouts, pretending to sulk. "it's jay, isn't it? that's why you don't love me anymore?" he jokes, clutching his chest as he pretends to dramatically cry.

jennie chose the wrong moment to come out of the pantry as sunghoon's gaze landed on her. "noona! save me from this heartbreak! y/n doesn't love me anymore!"

"she never did in the first place, hoon-ah. now stop fooling around and help me wipe the lightbulbs above the pantry, you're the only one who can reach it," jennie passes him a cleaning cloth and sanitising spray, opting to stay in the bar with you while she makes sunghoon do some cleaning in the back.

you giggle at his antics. never a dull shift with sunghoon.

you remember the first time you met the boy four months ago.

he had been a regular before he applied to work at odd atelier. the pretty iced vanilla latte boy. it's funny how you remember customers by their regular orders rather than the names they'd give you. you couldn't remember names to save your life.

sunghoon would get his daily iced vanilla latte in the morning to-go but gradually he started dining in more often. after a month, he decided to apply to work there and got accepted.

you were tasked to teach him all he had to know as a part-timer when he first joined the team. he seemed cold and standoffish at first but really, he was just a shy guy.

when you got closer to him, he started showing you his chaotic side which you grew to love. you didn't think such a cold-looking guy would be as goofy as he was. it's funny how every guy you befriend turns out to be some kind of chaotic but you love it. you needed that kind of energy in your mundane life.

you didn't know when it began, but as sunghoon grew more comfortable around you, he started getting more flirty.

you can't tell if it's really a joke or not because the way donghyuck does it really does feel like it is but with sunghoon, it doesn't feel so.

if he were being real, you honestly wouldn't mind it at all. he was a good mix of goofy and serious. he knew when to be playful and when to be understanding of a situation. he's pretty good company, too.

"yah! earth to y/n! why are you zoning out?" you feel a smack on the back of your shoulder, causing you to snap out of your daydreaming. "ah, unnie!" you whined, rubbing the spot jennie hit.

"you were zoned out," she states, shrugging her shoulders. "okay but did you have to hit me?" you counter, still rubbing the stinging spot on your shoulder as you pout at the older woman.

she simply laughs and ruffles your hair playfully. everyone who works here have developed this habit towards you it seems. you didn't mind it though, it's only at work anyway.

"i was telling you to bring out some pastries from the back for the pastry case but you weren't listening. what are you thinking about?" she asks curiously, wiping the glass display case while you make your way to the back to grab some cakes and pastries to top up.

you come back out with your hands full of boxes, jennie offering to grab some to lessen the load. "do you ever wonder why hoonie is single?" you ask her, glancing through the small window on the pantry door to see the mentioned boy working hard cleaning.

glancing over at the older woman because she wasn't replying, you were met with her teasing grin and wiggling eyebrows. "why do you ask, dear y/nie?" you gave her an unamused stare back, crossing your arms. you sigh, knowing you won't be able to close the conversation if she doesn't get the answer she wants.

"just," you look over to the pantry door again, this time making eye contact with the boy who winks at you, laughing when you roll your eyes at him.

"he's very good looking, right? and he's fun to be around, he's very caring and always knows how to cheer people up. plus, have you seen the amount of girls that have come up to him here and asked for his socials? he could've accepted anyone, literally anyone but he, own his own accord, chose to be bitchless. all of the girls i've seen him reject are gorgeous gorgeous girls too,"

jennie simply laughs at your little rant, closing the pastry case after she was done. "aren't you the same? like, you're literally the reason our cafe went viral after someone posted a video of you on one of the acoustic nights," the older mentions matter-of-factly. "how many people have visited just to see you since then? how many guys have asked for your number?"

"but that's different! i don't want any of them," you huff, crossing your arms as you pout at the older. jennie snickers at your response, pinching your cheeks as she coos at you sulking. "there's your answer then,"

"what?"

"you wondered why hoon is single despite being very desirable? same reason you are, y/nie. you don't want any of those guys lined up for you and neither does he with those girls," she explains. "he's probably waiting for the girl he wants. no offence, he doesn't look like the type of guy who would make the first move,"

"that's mean," you tell her, despite giggling at the remark. "but i wonder who it is he's waiting for..." you trail off, imagining what your friend would be like if he had a girlfriend.

would he stop those flirty jokes with you? would he still be willing to cheer you up on days when your energy felt off to him? would you have to cut off your friendship out of respect for his relationship? you wonder.

jennie watches in amusement at your serious thinking face. she finds it so precious how oblivious you could be. she wonders why you're thinking of all this right now.

as sunghoon comes out of the pantry to join you two back in front, she watches endearingly at the way you two interact. she doesn't know how everything will play out but one thing she knows is; she's rooting for sunghoon.

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synopsis. in which you work at odd atelier cafe and can only make hearts in your lattes, causing a certain boy to misunderstand your intentions..... then he brings his friends and chaos ensues.

a/n: i can't believe it's been 2 weeks since the last update...i'm slacking fr sorry yall i'm only human 😔 neways this might be a flop update but i'm trynna intro each character and their relation to y/n before any drama!! so bear with me 🫶

taglist (open): @semisemirin1i82 @txtmetonight @ilyjxdz @miniature-tragedy @n1k1mura @t00miee @manooffline @aerivrs @saranghaohoshi @woninluv @moony-mari @nctsshoes2 @sunghoonnsupremacy @mnxnii @lisaswifey @enhy4me2 @en-chantedtomeetyou @enhypenlovre (strikethrough means unable to tag!)

#enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #enha smau #enha x reader #enha x reader smau #enhypen social media au #enhypen texts #enhypen x reader smau #enhypen #enha

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a-cheerful-zucchini · 1 year

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Some wholesome Judas drawings!

Jealous bitches batch - coming soon.

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sprout-fics · 4 months

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Neighbors Alpha Ghost except he’s extremely polite for a man who is the biggest scariest alpha you’ve ever met. Alpha Ghost who’s lived beside you for years and has developed a rapport of trust with you, the sweet omega that lives next door. Ghost, who trusts you to watch over his place when he’s deployed and in return he helps you repair the various odds and ends in your place. Ghost who routinely asks you if you need anything from the store, and in return you give him baked sweets to take to base.

Ghost who’s gone for weeks at a time for work and you try not to entertain the idea that he may not come back, that one day you’ll wake up to your landlady emptying out his apartment and learning the hard way that you’ll never see him again. Ghost who always comes back, and feels a warm flush of fondness at the relief on your face when you see him again.

Ghost who once came home to find you cornered in the stairwell by an alpha you’d rejected, your face horrified at the things your would be suitor was snarling at you. Ghost who bodily hauled the smaller alpha down the stairs and threw him into the street with a snarled warning to never return, fangs bared beneath his mask. Ghost who returned to make sure you got home safe, and the next day helped you install a secure deadbolt for your safety.

Ghost who allowed himself a rare encounter that night when you hugged him in thanks, swallowing down tears and apologizing for the hassle. Ghost, who’s thought of the moment ever since, of how nice you smelled, how the feeling of you in his arms felt right.

Ghost, who hears you through the thin wall you two share a few weeks later, crying your eyes out. When you answer his gentle knock your face crumples. You confess that said rotten alpha showed up to your job and made a scene, and you were reluctantly let go because of the disturbance. Ghost, who for all his cold hearted demeanor and apathetic nature, feels only anger when you tell him this. Silently, Ghost vows to track down the fellow and discreetly ensure he’ll never hassle another omega again.

Ghost who stays at your request despite himself, allows you to put on old TV reruns and sniffle into his shoulder before you fall asleep there on the couch. Ghost, who’s instincts swell with pride at this omega who deems him safe enough to let into your den, to keep you safe while you rest against him.

Ghost who hears from you a week later, when you knock on his door embarrassed but standing strong with your fists clenched at your sides. Ghost, who is amused at your demeanor and listens as you tell him you have money for rent and groceries this month, but not for your suppressants. Ghost half expects you to ask for money, but is floored when you instead steel yourself and ask him to help you with your coming heat because you trust him. Ghost who freezes where he stands and finally tells you he’ll consider it, unable to shake your pleased smile for hours afterwards.

Ghost who sits on it for a few days, ignores the possessive, prowling thing in his chest as he weighs his options but agrees to help you. Ghost, who watches Price raise an eyebrow when he puts in for leave- his lieutenant who never seems to stop working, but approves it anyways. Ghost who researches what omegas need during heats, from nesting supplies to physical touch to…everything else and tries to remind himself it’s just a favor. It doesn’t mean anything, even if you asked him out of everyone else you know.

Ghost who gets a text on a lazy Sunday morning and is in your flat five minutes later willing but oddly nervous. He expects to find you in a state of debauchery but instead pads into your bedroom to find you curled under the covers sweating and glassy eyed, still coherent to smile and offer a weary thanks. Ghost who supplies a bag of scent laden clothes that has you curling into his familiar smell with a pleased whine. Ghost who tries his best at making you food while you arrange the clothes into a nest with sluggish limbs.

Ghost, who stiffly sits at your bedside and dabs at your sweaty brow, ignoring the flare of base instinct at the sweet, hypnotic smell of an omega in heat. His omega, his instincts purr. Just not yet. Ghost who cedes to your demands to cuddle, watching you go pliant and soft in his arms with a sigh, drinking in his scent as you drift off to sleep.

Ghost who wakes up hours later to you squirming and whining against him, panting and hazy eyed as the telltale scent of slick clouds his nose and draws an answering, primal growl from deep in his chest. Ghost who, with great restraint and gentleness works to prep you with large, calloused fingers, taking more time that he should just to make sure you’re ready. Ghost who firmly hushes your complaints and instead allows himself the selfish act of being completely involved in you, far beyond that of a clinical touch. Ghost who smears your tears of desperation with his thumb, murmurs a dark and heady “pretty omega” before finally, finally sinking into you.

Ghost, who maneuvers you as he pleases, watching the awareness fade from your eyes only to be replaced by heat-addled lust and your lips begging for more. Ghost who braces his full weight on you and rocks with slow, powerful motions that have you hiccup and writhe under him, pushing back onto his cock. Ghost who’s fangs pop out as he carefully refuses the instinct to bite the gland of the mewling, whimpering omega underneath him, but failing to restrain the instinctual growl of MINE that thunders in his chest.

Ghost who makes you come so slick dribbles down your thighs and you fist the sheets with a whimper of his name. Ghost who coos praises into your ear and grinds his cock into you so your eyes roll back into your head. Ghost who has you come twice more before he finally empties himself into you and silently feels the instinctual hope that it takes. Ghost who has no need to measure his stamina, ready to go again in minutes as you reach blindly for him, presenting oh so prettily for your alpha.

Ghost who takes all the time in the world for the days that follow, allowing himself to cave to the alpha instinct of providing, protecting, caring for the perfect little omega in his care. Ghost who watches you like shark as you fall asleep in the bath, sitting you in his lap after and making you eat before sinking you on his cock again. Ghost who coos at you as you go slack jawed and glassy eyed as he mounts you once more- ruining the sheets he just changed as you gush around him.

Ghost who wakes on the third day sore in all the best ways, noticing the way you cling to him like an octopus as you sleep. Ghost who pets at you fondly and noticed the scent of your heat finally ebbing away, blissfully shortened by his attentions. Ghost who watches your peaceful face and once more purrs happily at the thought that you’re his.

Ghost who can’t help but think about the next time he’s due to rut, about stretching you out on his knot and feeling the sensation of you clench down on him in climax. Ghost who reminds himself that it’s only one thing to look forward to, that courting is a careful process and that you deserve to be treated well in the duration of it. Ghost who now lays a palm on your scent gland and rumbles deep and primal, fulfilled at you being soaked in his scent, warding off any other alphas. Ghost who promises you and himself to do this right, to be the mate you need him to be.

Ghost who drifts back off thinking how beautiful his claiming bite might look against your throat.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #drabbles #I wrote this last night on my phone in the ride home bc I couldn’t wait to get to my laptop #random but enjoy

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ghostfacd · 5 months

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YOU CAN LET GO NOW ! | TOM BLYTH

PAIRING. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

SUMMARY. in which tom blyth can’t let go of your hand after an intense argument scene in your film

installment of this au | your character and Tom’s lines in the film are written in italics

“Action!”

Tom and you have probably been on your tenth cut by now, the scene was an argument between yours and his character, Balleona and Coriolanus. It was fierce and intense, filled with lots of angry yelling and a few tears.

Needless to say, your director was on both of your asses to make sure you got everything down perfectly, from the lines and hand movements to the crocodile tears.

“You can’t just expect everything to be okay Coriolanus!” You yell exasperated. You look up at Tom, who was currently looking down at you with a cold gaze. “You decided to cheat! You decide to risk your entire career for Lucy Gray, now you go sit with the consequences!”

Tom slams his hand on the table nearby, making you flinch back. “I had to! I did it for us! All of it! The rat poison—the scarf—I did everything for us! And now you repay me by yelling at me like a child?!”

You push Tom back with an accusing finger, eyes lingering with hurt. “You’re acting like a child Coriolanus Snow! I told you that my family has enough money, enough for you to go to university. But you just had to ruin the entire system, didn’t you? Is it Lucy Gray? The disgusting filth from District 12? Is she influencing you?”

Tom places his hand on your chin, grabbing it harshly, making you let out a whine.

“You don’t speak about her like that, do you understand?” Tom tightens his grip, making your hands come up to try to get out of his grasp. “Do you understand?!” He yells, causing you to close your eyes tightly.

“Let me go, you’re hurting me.” You say, “Coryo, let go, you’re hurting me.”

Tom’s eyes suddenly switched from anger to softness, and he lets go of his hold on your face. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

He brings you into a hug, letting you bury your head into his chest. “You know I didn’t mean it right? You know you’re more important to me than Lucy Gray—that’s why I did all of this. It was for you.”

You nod, letting out a few tears. Tom breaks the hug to hold your hand, his other one coming up to wipe them away.

“And.. cut!”

Tom stops wiping the tears that have fallen down to your cheeks, sighing in relief when the director says that they don’t have to redo the scene again.

However, he’s still holding tightly on your hand, nodding slowly at each of the words that come out from the director’s mouth.

“You okay?” You whisper to him.

“Hm? Yeah, no, I’m fine.” He reassures you, smiling down at your figure. “I’m a bit thirsty. Water?”

You smile and nod, letting him walk you two over to the water dispenser. He’s still holding firmly onto your hand, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by your co stars, Rachel and Josh.

“Geez Blyth, do you always have such a possessive hold on our dear Y/N here?” Rachel jokes, smiling teasingly at you two.

You roll your eyes, looking up at your boyfriend. He doesn’t seem to hear Rachel’s words, instead, focusing on getting the two of you water.

“Do you want some Rachel? Josh?”

“I’m good,” Rachel replies, “and Josh is too. We were gonna head out to this smoothie place for our lunch break.”

“Ah.” With his free hand, Tom pulls you closer to him until you’re practically leaning against him. “Well have fun you two.”

Rachel and Josh say their thanks, but before they leave, Rachel slips by you, whispering “he’s stuck to you like glue, isn’t he?” in your ear.

You try to hold in your smile, butterflies filling your stomach. Despite shooting the scene 15 minutes ago, Tom was still holding onto your hand as if you were his lifeline.

“Hey babe,” you say, which automatically makes all the gears in Tom’s hand focus their attention on you.

“Hm?”

“How come you’re still holding onto my hand?”

He seems to be surprised at your words, glancing down briefly at your intertwined fingers.

“Oh, I didn’t realize.” He says, shrugging.

“Yeah,” you tease him. “Obsessed with me aren’t you?”

He rolls his eyes, but nods in agreement. “Just a habit I guess. I felt really bad for yelling at you so much in the scene and grabbing your face. I’d never do that in real life.”

You let out a laugh, making Tom furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

“Aww Tom,” you say, leaning into his chest with your head. “I know you would never do that in real life baby. It’s just acting.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I just hate arguing with you, whether it’s acting or not. Coriolanus is a loser for not realizing what he has, you know.”

Now that made you laugh even louder, “yeah, but Tom Blyth is a sweetheart.” You tippy toe to reach his nose, placing a small kiss on the bridge of it. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games

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yawnderu · 3 months

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Simon lets out a deep chuckle as he sees your daughter pick flowers from the light, clean grass, her tiny hands barely even managing to gather enough strength to get the stems out of the ground.

“C'mon, that's enough.” His voice is patient, calloused hands picking his daughter up as he brings her up to his chest, a small smile when he sees her holding onto the flowers for dear life, giggles leaving her lips as he starts bouncing her while they walk.

It became a routine, in a way, for Simon to bring his daughter whenever he visits his family. She's too young to understand, so pure, so untainted from the dangers of the world, always kept safe by Simon and you, yet he can't fight off the urge to make his family see her.

He walks for a few minutes, enjoying the chilly air while his daughter cuddles up to him, one of her tiny hands gripping his jacket, while the other one is still holding onto the flowers. He stops in front of a set of four graves, the familiar pit of dread setting deep within him starts to come out, shaky hands managing to gently put the little girl down on the cold ceramic.

Mrs. Riley.

If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.

Simon was hiding his hurt quite well, managing to sit down next to his little girl, one hand on her back as she started crawling around, finally setting the flowers down.

“Mum?” His voice is quiet, almost cracking, as if he was the scared little boy his mother defended with her life. His daughter looks up at him with curious brown eyes, sitting down and entertaining herself with her own onesie.

“I remember telling you I'd never settle down because I could never get as lucky as Tommy and Beth...” He dragged out, gaze going down to the ring on his finger, the physical representation of your union.

“You've met my wife before, and now I want you to see my kid too.” He's barely managing to speak, words coming out rough and choked up as his hand caresses his daughter's thin hair, making him pause just to examine her features. She's a tiny carbon copy of him, a lovely nose and a set of brown eyes that will never see the horrors he lived.

“She's a proper daddy's girl, but you would've loved each other.” He's sure of it. His mum was always so lovely, so nurturing. A true angel on earth with way too much forgiveness and patience for her own good.

He picks his daughter up, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. Simon thought he cried all his tears when he was a little boy, yet his nose is starting to sting, vision getting blurry for a few seconds until a choked sob manages to escape his lips. He's quick to wipe any tears away, simply trying to focus on the peace and quiet the cemetery offers, his hand running up and down his daughter's back, patting it softly just to hear that little giggle that seems to always repair his broken soul.

“All of you would've loved her, shy little thing she is.” He sniffles again before a quiet laugh leaves his lips, smiling despite the way his eyes are still filled with tears threatening to spill at any moment.

“I'm quittin' the SAS soon, don't want her to grow up without a father. The wife's happy about it, too.” Simon lets out a small sigh, looking down at the graves of his family, all buried next to each other. He shakes his head softly, his free hand quickly wiping off his tears before he goes back to holding his daughter, rocking her with care.

“I'll come back with her next time, jus' wanted to talk to you today. Let you meet this lovely girl.” Big brown eyes meet his gaze, instantly cheering him up despite everything. He pinches his cheek softly only for the little girl to smack his hand away with a giggle, only making his smile grow wider at how hot-heated she is. Just like her mother.

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screampied · 2 months

Note

Not sure if this is too specific but I NEED top geto that lets fem!reader top him just for once thinking reader would fail but geto immediately gets humbled !!! Not to mention geto is definitely very very vocal !!!!🤭

❤︎ ໋𓈒 cocky geto find the idea of you topping him adorable but he soon gets humbled quickly

warnings. fem! reader, cowgirl, praise, dirty talk, hair pulling, unprotected sex, choking geto, mdni.

“baby, are ya sure,” he’d hum with a coy grin, leaning back against the cushioned sofa. he had the look is pure amusement plastered on his face. his tone and the way he structured his tone to make himself tease you even further made you lightly pout. with a hand gripped against your waist, he runs a thumb against your bare skin. “you…you wanna ride me?”

“you don’t think i can?” you furrow your eyebrows, just barely hovering over him. geto has a free arm stretched against the edge of the couch, eyeing you up and down with a sly grin.

he swiftly shakes his head. “i’m not saying that baby, i jus’ think it’s cute.”

“cute.” you repeat, giving him a brief deadpan before you start to align yourself. you intake a breath…feeling his leaky tip marginally brush against your entrance. geto liked getting underneath your skin whenever he could, but you wanted to show him how wrong he was.

geto snickers at your reaction, softly grazing his thumb repeatedly down your side before he murmurs in a soft raspy tone, “prove me wrong then.”

“i’m going to, suguru. so shut up and lie the fuck back.”

“y-yes ma’am.” he suddenly stammers, feeling your hand lightly go around his throat. you slowly rock forward against him, and geto leans back, getting turned on from the grip you had.

his back leans against the cushion before he stares at you, a sudden cold sweat running down him metaphorically. “shit, you’re serious?”

and despite everything, he still had a coy grin poking against his lips. the feeling of your hand that went around his neck, it made his dick twitch a bit. you choking him briefly. adding just a bit of pressure, you drag a thumb, rubbing up against his adam’s apple. “i like your confidence princess, but—”

“suguru,” you grumble, and the moment you start to sink down on his thick base, he lets off a grunt. in the midst of your pussy taking him fully, you move your hips forward a bit—a quick jerk to make him eat his words. geto’s head goes back, feeling your hand still around his neck.

“if—if you’re gonna choke me, at least do it harder princess.” he grunts, a left hand of his snaking towards your ass. you nearly slip off a moan, remembering how handsy he was. he grips your ass before giving it a light spank.

a brat even till the very end.

with a swift eyeroll, murmuring a, “fine,” you squeeze his neck a little bit tighter — geto looks so pretty underneath you.

once you start up a rhythmic pace, his groans become more vocal. the grip your cunt made against him had him nearly in shambles.

geto’s smirk never fades. you start to grind against him in such a way that he just can’t shut himself up.

he’s balls deep, stirring up your insides to where you lean right up against his chest to nip near his neck. soft chaste kisses.

“fuckkk, good. kiss my neck, jus’ like that.” and his voice, it was a pitchy low. a bit of rasp underneath it, he continued to pause every few seconds to swallow and he’s panting.

heavily…

the way your skin slaps and clouts ruthlessly on his thigh turns him on entirely so.

the recoil of your ass—geto was forevermore a handsy man. he’d run and trace his fingertips on your skin, low husky grunts skidding past his spit-glossed lips each second.

he loved grabbing your ass as it fucked back against him. you studied his facial expressions. such a pretty man. his hair was a mess, it wasn’t tied up so strands just went all across his face as you rode him. purely occluding his vision.

“…mhm, you’re such a tease,” he murmurs, feeling you start to playfully suck on his neck. geto’s thigh starts to bounce idly in the background and you press your hands on his chest.

he had an abashed expression, eyes half-lidded, and speaking of eyes…his dark irises, they were dilated. all because of you.

his pretty girl that was making him eat his words up. he catches you starting before scoffing.

“f-fuckkk me,” he huffs out, feeling you vigorously clamp down on him again and again. it had him dizzy, mind unintentionally spasming,

your perfume scent making his heart race. “grippin’ me so tight, ‘s no fair.”

massaging the middle part of his neck, you lean in to kiss geto.

he returns the gesture, his tongue moving against yours and he moans. it’s more of a whiny moan if anything. jerking your hips slightly, he squeezes a hand against your waist—huffing and puffing.

he felt a bundle of nerves surge all through him. the way you moved back and forth against him, a groan gets caught in his throat and before he knew it, he starts to feel himself coming close. that quick.

“y-you’re gonna,” he breathes, his chest kept heaving and heaving..

geto’s bare chest, a few dark hairs of chest hair decorating his skin. you hum, dragging a finger down his chest, giving his perky nipples a playful pinch to watch him whine. “gonna make me cum too quick, s-shit.”

“what happened to your confidence, sugu?” you mutter, keeping up a pace. you start to quicken a bit to where he can barely keep up.

geto could barely register anything, his mind—it was ditzy. thinking of nothing but the way you pussy soaked down on him, clenching stupidly around his cock. “you said i couldn’t ride you, baby.”

“you still can’t,” he pants, trying to keep up his façade but you could literally hear from his tone.

he was so close to the edge. feeling you play with his nipples, geto bites his tongue. “i-im sensitive there, woman… you’re so f-fuckkk..”

you smile, nipping near his neck again before he groans—eyes rolling back, he gnaws on lip as he feels his orgasm unsteadily approaching.

your hips, the rhythm it had made him so woozy. he wanted more, he brings you in for a kiss again, and you move some of his long strands from his hair.

geto shivers, feeling you ride against him faster before within seconds…it happens.

he shoots right inside your gummy walls, a raspy groan departs from his lips once he feels himself pouring right into your cunt. dumping such a thick loud, you slow down your hips to stare at geto.

“don’t… don’t look at me.” he retorts, a near pout going against his lips. he wasn’t use to this, you getting the higher up on him.

you giggle, pressing a plethora of kisses near his nose at how he came too early. he grunts, the second you inch closer towards him, his dick that was still inside you twitched. pumped so full, you felt him coat your walls with every drop. “give… gimme another kiss, i need it.”

“you don’t need a kiss, geto,” you tease, being more of a chaff by refusing for a second.

as you moved closer towards his lips. he lets off a needy whine, his glossed lips were so trembly. he wanted more of your taste… so much. “if you want it that bad, just say pretty please.”

his eyes narrow at you, still letting off breathy pants before replying with a grouchy. “…no.”

“then you’re not getting a kiss.” you snicker with a shrug, watching the pout go against his lips again.

it was cute, seeing him try to keep up this bratty act. but not even seconds later, he deeply sighs with an adorable half eye roll. “okay, okay…. um. give me a kiss. pretty please. f-fuck, i want you.”

“good boy,” you mutter, giving him a quick kiss that he barely blinks. he wants more of you.

geto’s face flushes hard from the sudden pet name, and he groans once he feels you reach down towards his dick still perfectly buried inside you. you realign yourself, giving him another long kiss before briefly departing, softly uttering a, “now lie back, baby. ‘m not finished.”

“this…doesn’t mean anything by the way,” he tries to elucidate, yet shuts up the moment you softly wrap your hand around his neck. geto leans back, going manspread before with a pant, he smiles—still a brat. “but.. do your worst, baby. finish fucking me then. if you can, h-heh.”

#★vegasbaby.#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #geto x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #suguru geto x reader #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut

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assassinsblade · 4 months

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Arrows and Ashes

You and Cassian are ambushed when trying to meet with Eris in the Autumn Court. When an interrogation ensues that leaves you permanently scarred, how will Azriel react?

WC: 4.7k

Warnings: Pining, friends to lovers, gross gore, injury, violence, blood, vomit, all that kind of stuff.

Part 2

—————————————

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It was damp. From the cold, wet floor to the musty air and your blood-soaked skin.

How long had you and Cassian been here? How long had it been since Autumn soldiers had ambushed you in the woods of the Autumn Court, shooting arrows directing into the war general?

It couldn't have been more than a day. You didn't even think it was night time yet. But it felt like it had been an eternity.

From the interrogations to watching Cassian writhe around in pain due to the faebane arrows protruding from his wings... time continuously ticked slower.

You ached. Your entire body cold with sweat despite your lack of clothing. Dirt and blood coated your skin, and you tried to ignore how uncomfortable it felt against your normally soft flesh. You couldn’t though. You couldn’t ignore the situation you were in. Not when it only seemed to be getting worse, and you had no escape in sight.

You might not make it out of here.

You had left that morning expecting to return home quickly. You had left with a plan to meet Eris Vanserra and return to the House of Wind for a bath, to read a book, to have a nice dinner with friends, and maybe even get to spend time with your mate.

Azriel. You wondered what he was doing right now.

If you focused hard enough, you could almost picture him bursting through the cell door, blue siphons ablaze with power and face molded into an expression of beautiful fury.

But he wasn't here. And you might never see him again.

"Cassian..."

"Don't." He demanded. His voice was cracking with weakness, but he tried to sound resolute. "Rhys is coming."

He didn’t sound convinced, and you could tell that he was worried you were running out of time too. It might not have been long enough for Rhys and the others to be concerned, but it was long enough for the Autumn Court to inflict permanent damage.

You let out a shaky breath, grief already swimming in your chest. Grief for what could have been with you and Azriel if you hadn't been so scared. If you had told him sooner about the bond that had snapped for you. If you hadn't been so focused on him wanting you for you and not the idea of the bond.

“I need you to promise me you'll tell him."

Tears leaked from your eyes, and you tried to hold back your cries. You didn't want your life to end so sadly. You wanted to be able to speak with your friend, pretend like everything was okay, reminisce on the happy times you had with the people you loved.

Instead, you were laying nearly completely bare on a concrete floor, shackled, covered in blood, tears, and vomit. Your body had been taken apart, your skin flayed open, beaten. You thought you must look like an animal on a butcher's board, your body a canvas of gore.

Cassian was not unharmed either. When they had captured the two of you, they had shot him down with faebane arrows: a dozen or two of them. His wings were severely injured, and his power was subdued from the faebane. He had taken beatings as well, but when they realized how well-trained the general had been in withstanding interrogations, they turned to you.

Inflicting damage on your body was a way to get either yourself or Cassian to talk. They taunted him with your pain, and you felt guilty that this would most likely haunt him as much as it haunted you. Would he forgive himself for doing the right thing and protecting his court?

The two of you were on your way to meet with Eris to go over some plans when you were ambushed by Beron's men. Based on their line of questioning, they still did not know of the eldest son's plans of a coup, but they were suspicious of the Night Court presence in their land.

They used the opportunity to not just ask why you were there, but to interrogate you about the new Night Court addition: Nyx. They wanted to know about his powers, how strong he seemed to be, if he can be used as a weapon, how many guards are constantly with him...

But you and Cassian would never betray your family nor your court.

So when Cassian refused to answer, and the whip came down on your torso, you tried to block out his yells, his growls, his apologies. You tried to block out the pain as the leather cleaved into your skin, flaying it open until muscle showed. You focused on what you would do when you got out of here; how you would go to the library with Nesta and pick out new books, how you would go shopping with Mor, how you would go flying with Azriel.

You focused on happy memories with your friends as fists landed on your cheeks, dug into your ribs. As Cassian took blows, you tried to remember the way he'd make you laugh, contorting his groans of pain into his teasing hums and chuckles.

But as you laid in a pool of your own blood, the taunts of the soldiers echoed in your head, and you knew what was coming.

Your wings would be next to go, and with that, so would you.

Despite yourself, you wondered how Azriel would react. If he would mourn you, if it would hurt him as badly as losing him would hurt you. You wondered how Cassian would tell him about the mating bond, if he would have Azriel sit down first, if Rhys would be there for support as well.

"We are getting out of here," Cassian said, voice stronger and more determined. "And you are telling him yourself."

But then the cells were opening, footsteps marching down the hall, and three males were walking toward you with purpose. They gripped you by your forearms, pulling you up harshly, and you closed your eyes and tried to swallow your panic down.

The lacerations on your arms and abdomen from the whip were burning with a vengeance, infection certain to be spreading from the dirt pressed into them on the concrete. The males' hands twisted around your wounds, and you gasped weakly at the pain as they hauled you to your knees.

The shackles were connected to a hook on the wall, lifting your arms slightly, allowing them full access to your back. Your back that they had not whipped, because they were waiting for this.

"Daisy," he called your nickname -- the one given to you by Azriel when you all were only kids. "Look at me. Just look at me, alright? I'm here."

Your whole body was shaking, trembling with fear and anticipation at what was to come. Panic was suffocating you, building in your chest and making its way up your throat, and you thought your bladder might have even released with how petrified you were.

Cassian's voice was still echoing in the background, but you could only focus on the clanging of chains, the footsteps behind you, the sound of a sword unsheathing.

Your fingers dug into the shackles, fingers white with how hard you were gripping them, trying to steel yourself for what was to come.

"Lord of Bloodshed..." one of the males taunted, spinning the sword around in his hand. "I think you know what this is for."

You drowned out the male's voice. His nasally, grating, voice that seemed to irritate your ears. You drowned out the words that would doom you, focusing instead on listening to your own breathing and heart beat.

You were alive. You were strong.

There was silence after a while, and you squeezed your eyes shut, gritted your teeth, tried not to sob.

“I’m sorry, Daisy,” Cassian cried.

You tried to suck in a breath, tried not to let his protection of his nephew, his protection of his brother, of his court, hurt you. But the sword came down, and your lungs were not yet filled with air.

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe.

It was like your limb was being torn from your body, nerve endings flaying open, on fire, agony coursing through your veins and sending a shock through your body all the way to your head.

You thought you might have made a noise, but you couldn’t hear over the ringing in your ears, and your chest seemed stuck.

Blood splattered across the wall as he pulled the sword out of your wing. It hadn’t gone all the way through; instead, it had gotten stuck in one of the lines of thick membrane, and you gagged when he pulled it from where it had stopped, tissue separating with the motion.

It came down again, a hacking motion, unclean and barbarous, dragging through tendons and nerves.

You had never been in so much pain before. You thought you might be going into shock, your body shaking, stomach nauseous, vision going fuzzy, ears ringing with white noise.

You were only semi-aware of the burning coming up your throat, of the smell of your own vomit.

Cassian’s voice was muffled, drowned out in your mind, but you could hear the sorrow, the panic, the guilt.

Your hands were limp in the shackles, body slumped forward into the wall when the first wing fell to the floor with a thump.

You thought you heard Cassian retching.

And when the sword came down toward the second wing, your adrenaline now out of your system, you couldn’t help the piercing scream that echoed off the walls. You screamed and sobbed and shook until the hacking broke through the second wing too, slicing and grinding it to the floor.

Your entire body was covered in sweat. Cheek pressed to the wall, arms hung above your head but body hanging limp. You tried to stay conscious. You tried to focus on the sounds of Cassian’s sobs, the way he called your name and tried to get your attention. You tried to blink the dizziness away, tried to focus on the blood pooling around you into a large circle.

But everything ached and stung.

As the shackles were released from the wall, weight now imbalanced, your body didn’t even know which way to fall.

You landed in a puddle of your own blood, urine, vomit, and tears. But you were too tired to move, too hurt to move. So you laid there, cheek pressed into the sticky, hot, red liquid, and watched as your friend begged you to stay awake.

Breath stuttering in your chest, blood wavering in front of your mouth with each heave, you reached a hand out to your friend. Just barely. With only enough strength to inch your fingers forward, your body twitching with pain and exertion, you made the motion, tried to communicate that you did not blame him, that you understood, even if your chest ached with hurt.

And then you were going in and out of darkness.

There were times you could hear voices, ones you recognized. Other times it was peacefully quiet. You tried to bask in those moments, where there was no pain or noise—only you and your mind. Where you could pretend like everything was fine and you and Cassian had never left for the Autumn Court early that morning. Or that you had met with Eris as planned, gotten the intel you needed, and returned in time for supper.

But those voices would interrupt your peaceful state, arguing and panicking.

You’d hear glimpses.

You make one wrong touch and you’re dead.

Big threats from a bedridden brute.

You were only brought back to full consciousness briefly when you felt a searing hot pain in your back, pulling you from your sleep gasping for air.

You were on fire, dear gods, you were burning alive.

And then Cassian was in your eyesight, his hazel eyes shining with concern. His hand reached out to cradle your head where it laid atop a pillow, the other stretched across the tops of your shoulders to keep you held down onto the table.

“I know, I know,” he reassured quickly. “It’s okay. It’ll be over soon. You’re okay.”

But you didn’t believe him. How could you be okay when you felt like this? When you didn't even understand what was happening?

You were choking on your own cries, on the tears and drool pooling in your mouth. Cassian tried to wipe them away, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead, whispering encouraging words into your ear.

Your fingers grasped at the wood underneath you, your legs kicking at an invisible weight holding your lower half down.

“Please-“ your voice shook as your body trembled. “Stop.”

You could feel yourself losing consciousness again, your vision going spotty, the pain too much for your weak, shocked body to handle.

“Eris…” Cassian warned, his tone threatening.

“Do you want her to live?”

You didn’t think you would live past this though. This was unbearable. Pure hot torture raging across the skin of your back and melting the muscle, nerves, and bone.

Distantly, you realized what they were doing. They were cauterizing the wounds. Burning the flesh to stop the bleeding, to give you a chance at healing before it was too late.

Mouth dry, your voice gave out, and you let out hoarse squeaks of pain.

It could have been sixty seconds or five minutes, but it felt like an eternity before the weight on your legs shifted, and the fire edged away.

Your lashes and cheeks were wet with your tears, tongue bitten in your screaming. And as you tried to breathe again, tried to focus on Cassian’s voice as he addressed Eris, on his hand stroking your hair back, you thought of where you could be. If you were actually going to make it back to the Night Court, if you were actually going to survive this.

Gruesome lashes ached on your legs, abdomen, and arms. The weightlessness at your back paired with the smell of burnt flesh brought an image of barbecue to your brain that had you gagging again.

You might survive, but your body wouldn’t. This was no longer you, no longer the body you would have willingly given to Azriel, with the glowing bond in its chest he remained unaware about.

It was hacked and burnt and damaged and-

“We’re gonna get you home,” you heard Cassian speaking softly to you.

Eris moved around in the background, gathering and packing up supplies in another room of whatever isolated home he had brought you to. You never thought you’d be so grateful to see the auburn-haired male, or that he’d actually put his ass on the line to save you, but here he was.

Had he heard you were captured upon your missed meeting? Did he release you himself?

You knew he would have to find a way to explain how you two got out from the cells. It would most likely end in some form of physical abuse toward him from Beron. The thought made your stomach turn with more sorrow and guilt.

“Eris sent a letter to Rhys. He knows where we are, and he’ll be here soon.”

You let the words comfort you, your eyes fluttering shut and muscles trying to relax after being attacked.

A sharp pain separate from the physical torture you endured burned in your heart, though, as you realized how everything was going to change. Your wings were gone. They took your wings, and with it any happiness or confidence you had felt.

You felt tears swim in your vision, your eyes so exhausted you could barely keep them open enough for the liquid to fall down your cheeks. Cassian immediately wiped them away with his thumb, his brow scrunched in concern as he watched you.

“My wings-” your voice wobbled, and Cassian immediately brought his head to yours in a makeshift hug.

“I know,” he tried to soothe, his voice pinched with sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Daisy.”

Eris appeared once again, carrying a blanket and what looked like a loose nightgown. You only then realized how bare you still were from the dungeon and your injuries.

“Here,” the usually cold Autumn lord set the clothes to the side, pulling the blanket out instead. He draped it across your body, adjusting it so it covered from your shoulders to your toes. Cassian gave him a somewhat surprised and suspicious glance, but nonetheless nodded his head at the male gratefully.

“Rhys responded and should be here any minute. The wards are open to him. I assume he is collecting his own healer-”

Eris didn’t even have a chance to finish before shadows materialized in the corner of the room, an intimidating presence taking up the space and charging for the auburn-haired male.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Azriel-” Cassian jumped to his feet, pulling the shadowsinger back. Azriel’s eyes remained locked on the Autumn Court heir, though, his eyes promising a pain he knew all too well how to deliver. “He got us out. We got caught, and he helped us. Without him, she'd be dead.”

Azriel swallowed harshly, body tense with anger. He seemed to take the moment to consider the words, to consider if he believed in their truth. Ultimately, he dropped his hands and turned toward where you laid.

His face crumpled, all anger and drive deflating into devastation.

Feet carrying him over to you, he fell to his knees in the same spot Cassian had just occupied.

“Oh gods…” he breathed, shaking hand coming to rest against your cheek.

You tried to blink up at him, but your vision was still slightly blurred. You could still see the concern in his eyes, though. The way the green and brown melded together with worry and care, sparking the gold tether in your chest alive.

“My sweet Daisy,” he muttered to himself. “What have they done to you?”

Daisy. The nickname was sweet on his lips, sweet as the day he labeled you as his flower. The young boy who had taken a look at the young Illyrian female ravaging her horrible family's garden in a rage and had endearingly called her Daisy. Had compared her to the pretty life that could grow in a horrible place, in horrible soil that kept preventing her from sprouting.

You didn't know what to tell him. Your body still shook with pain, adrenaline, and shock.

You heard Rhys arrive, heard Cassian and Eris explaining what had occurred to the high lord and his healer. You heard Madja curse at the arrow wounds in Cassian's wings, and Cassian insist she help you first.

"You're going to be okay," Azriel placed a soft kiss to your fingertips peeking out from the top of the blanket. "And I am going to make them pay. They are going to regret ever touching you."

You tried to focus on his pretty eyes, his dark eyelashes highlighting the light hazel. He looked so worried, so hurt himself.

Shuffling behind you made your breath hitch, and then the blanket was being moved down your back, exposing your wounds to the cold air.

You winced, a sound you would equate to a wounded animal echoing into the solemn room. Azriel’s hand gripped your own, eyes watching your reaction intently.

But you watched as his eyes moved from your own to glance at what everyone else was seeing—what Madja was here to work on. His face immediately paled, his jaw clenching tight, and his fingers digging into your own.

Did it look as bad as it felt?

You wondered if someone would be able to find you beautiful after this. If Azriel would be able to look at your skin and see a pretty female and not someone who had been put through a meat grinder.

He swallowed harshly, ripping his eyes away from your back and locking onto your own again.

His chest was rising and falling heavily, as if he was trying to contain himself, reign himself in from exploding.

“I didn’t tell them,” you finally spoke. Your voice was hoarse from screaming and throwing up, and dry from lack of water.

Azriel looked as if you had hit him, and you heard Rhys immediately come to your side next to the shadowsinger. He knelt down and placed a kiss to the sweaty skin at your temple, stroking your hair lovingly before looking at you sternly.

“All we care about right now is that our friend is alive and safe. Don’t worry about anything else right now. I’m not.”

“They wanted Nyx,” you croaked.

Rhysand looked haunted but not surprised. “Cassian told me. We will figure it out and plan for the worst.”

You didn’t answer the high lord, focusing on your breathing as Madja began skimming her hands over the gouges in your back.

Violet eyes met your own, and the hazel eyes next to him watched the healer’s actions with intensity. “I will never be able to repay the price you paid to keep my family safe. I am forever indebted to you.”

Tears fell down Rhys’ cheeks, and you wished you could hug him, the male you think of as a brother. But then you thought of how odd that would feel for you—for him—to hug without your wings.

You remembered his story of being captured during the war. How he said he went through endless abuse and torture, but they didn't touch his wings. He had said that touching them would have been the one way to get him to talk.

But you didn't.

“I’d do it again-” you began to say, but you were cut off by Madja’s actions, a piercing pain shooting through you. You gasped, eyes squeezing shut and hand clamping down on Azriel’s.

“Rhys.” Azriel demanded. What he was demanding, you weren’t sure. But his voice was firm, strong, a tone you hadn’t heard him use before with his brother.

Rhys seemed to understand though, because he stood and walked a few steps to the top of your head, putting a hand there.

“Can I take some of your pain away?” He asked gently, voice still strained from the emotions he showed.

You could barely give a nod of your head with how badly your muscles were tensed in agony. But he saw it, and as you felt the mental talons drag along the walls of your mind, your tear-filled eyes met Azriel’s.

“I’m so proud of you,” the shadowsinger said, eyes gleaming with sorrow. “My strong Daisy. My brave, brave girl.”

And with some of the pain gone—there, but now slightly more bearable as the healer worked—you could breathe a bit easier.

Azriel continued speaking to you, distracting you from the work going on around your body. “Before you know it, we’ll be back in Velaris. We can go to that bookstore you like and pick out as many books as you want. I’ll read one with you, if you want. Even one of those romances you like so much.”

He tried to give you a soft smile, but it looked sad, and it made your heart hurt.

A rough twist near your back and a sob escaped your mouth. Rhys’ energy swarmed stronger in your mind, and Azriel was quick to lean forward, face inches from your own, eyes drowning in fear and worry.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, voice heavy with panic. “Just focus on me. I know it hurts, but we’ve gotta do it. You’re almost done, sweetheart. Just hold on a bit longer.”

Your cries were becoming louder and you could hear Azriel cursing, could see through your tears the way he tipped his head up to look at Rhys in desperation.

“Can we put her to sleep?” He asked toward the healer, and if you didn’t know what he asked, the sound of his voice would have made you think he was begging.

It was silent for a moment, and you could feel Azriel’s hands start shaking around your limp one in his grasp.

Madja finally responded, sounding grim. “She’s lost a lot of blood. I don’t want to risk it.”

“What can I do?” Azriel pleaded toward the healer.

You tried to control your sobs, control the way your body convulsed at the touches of the healer behind you. But it was excruciating, the lack of wings, the deep tendons, muscles, bones, and nerves ripped from your skin and haphazardly cauterized despite possible infection. And now to try to fix the rushed burns, to check for infection and draw it out...

“Keep her awake.”

Azriel’s head dipped down for a moment, either in sorrow or in order to compose himself. But then he was looking at you, so lovely and beautiful you nearly felt like you were dreaming.

And he tried to sound positive, his voice going up a bit to sound lighter, but it was strained and not entirely convincing.

“I found that cat you have been following around Velaris. The stray that tries to sneak into the coffee shop? I guess some of the customers feed him. They call him Bix, and he lives under the porch of the place.”

Your vision swims as you try to pay attention to what he is saying, and his fingers lightly tap your cheek.

“I'll take you to visit him soon. Okay? I'll even pet him this time."

You tried to smile at the image of the stoic shadowhunter holding a cute stray cat, but even the muscles in your face felt heavy and lethargic.

"Maybe we can get you a cat," he continued when he saw you listening. "I know you’ve always wanted one. And Rhys would probably give you fifty now if you asked.”

His voice was soothing, and the more he spoke, the more you wanted to sleep. His presence was like a balm to the last ten hours, the scent of him, the feel of his hand in yours, the sound of his voice in your ear, all reminded you that you were safe again.

Rhys’ power rushed through you, and you could feel your body start to go numb, the pain ebbing away thanks to your friend and high lord.

Now you were just tired. So so tired.

“Hey-” Azriel sat up a little straighter, the movement pulling your eyelids open once more. “You gotta stay awake, sweetheart. You can sleep soon, I promise. Just not yet.”

But you could barely hear him. Your mind was already falling, vision warping into a blurry vignette.

Azriel was here. You were safe.

“Madja-” Azriel's voice became more frantic as he watched you start to fade. In a panic, he stood from his position at your side and gripped your face in both his palms.

His fingertips were gentle on your face as they lightly tapped, trying to get your attention without hurting you. When you didn’t respond, your heavy eyelids beginning to succumb to sleep, he began to tap a little harder, his strong hands trying to pull you back up.

The last thing you heard before finally allowing a pain free and peaceful rest to overtake you was Azriel pleading your name, a shuffle of two bodies, and then his touch being gone, his deep voice suspended in the room instead—a darkness trailing underneath it that would have had you on your knees if not for you floating into unconsciousness.

“Prepare for a war, Rhysand. Because if she doesn’t wake up, I will slaughter every last member of the Autumn Court.”

Before darkness enveloped you, you briefly wondered if their bodies would look like your own when he was finished.

#acotar x reader #acotar fic #azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel x you #azriel fluff

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angelltheninth · 7 months

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Genshin Men + It's Getting Harder to Sleep Without You

Pairing: Kaeya, Diluc, Thoma, Childe, Dottore, Pantalone, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Zhongli x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, domestic fluff, insomnia, kissing, cuddles, tea, naps, hurt/comfort, reunion, slight angst, purring (for Nauvillette and Zhongli)

A/N: I know I shouldn't say sorry for the lack of content lately but turns out that a novel takes a lot out of you. The good news it that it's almost done!

Kaeya falls asleep pretty easily on most nights on his ship, it's only in the last few weeks that he's had trouble. Staying up will make him sloppy so he would take a few walks outside under the sky and find himself thinking of you. This helped him sleep but only served to make him miss you more. Maybe the solution is to bring you along more often, then he can hold and kiss you every night, no more daydreaming for him.

Diluc has never had an easy time sleeping and it's always worse when he doesn't have you to hold. He would toss from one side of the bed to the next, eventually sighing in defeat and fully waking up until the next day. His tiredness was obvious and you weren't gonna have him falling asleep standing. A nap seemed like a good solution but he demanded you sit in his lap and cuddle him. Despite sleeping in a chair it was the best nap he's ever had.

Thoma sleeps like a baby after a long day... usually. For some reason it feels like something's been missing lately. No matter what he couldn't figure it out, his routine was the same. The only thing that he could think of was... oh, those late, very intimate nights with you. Were you the key? He wasn't sure but it was worth a try. You were like a big blanket on top of him, nuzzled against his chest. Just what he needed.

Childe forces himself to have a good sleep because otherwise it would get in his way of getting stronger. But lately he can't seem to sleep for long periods of time if you aren't there, which is troubling for his missions. To make up for lost time he sleeps in your bed every night after, hogging all your attention, his face firmly pressed against your chest and arms around you like you'll vanish at any moment.

Dottore tells himself he only needs a few hours of sleep every night. It was like that before he started letting you stay in his bed. After that he can't even get a few hours without your warm, most of the time naked, body laying against his. He will drink tea to make himself fall asleep by force, he did this many times before you saw him look all groggy and grumpy one night with a steaming cup in his hand. You took him by the arm and told him he needs to rest that dangerous brain of his, or else you won't ever sleep with him again.

Pantalone can only get a really good sleep if he's kissed you goodnight. Your kiss, gentle, soft and loving, is like the best sleeping medicine to him. Truly he's tried everything else and the moment he started kissing you one night when he was feeling frustrated he knew he found the solution to his insomnia. Now he just needed to make sure you're willing to make out for a little while before going to bed. An easy task seeing how you practically jump his bones after he comes home.

Neuvillete used to love sleeping with the sound of rain against the window. Yet now every time it rains it's due to his bed being too cold, too empty without you in it. He's gotten so used to you combing your fingers through his hair and smelling your sweet scent that now he's unable to rest otherwise. Only when you kiss him and tell him you're back to visit does the rain stop falling so fast, instead becoming a pleasant backdrop as he sighs, purrs and plants tired kisses on your exposed skin.

Wriothesley has a habit of late night workouts to burn his extra energy. Not necessary as much now that he's in a relationship with you, which is nice but messes with his routine. One that he's had for a very long time. Lately you've noticed him flexing his fists whenever you'll be separated for a time, but he will deny it if you bring it up. No, he won't say anything when you get home, just wrap his arms around you from behind and kiss your shoulder, his body shaking with all that pent up energy mixed with a lack of sleep. And only you can help with both.

Zhongli doesn't mind lack of sleep but he knows you do and he knows you're awake when he's awake. Therefore he decides to fix that by sleeping together with you when you stay over. It felt nice, really nice, too nice and he finds himself wishing for it more and more often. So much so that it becomes his only way of getting deep sleep, the rest are more like power naps. You can't complain either, the sounds of the content rumbling within his chest is very soothing to listen to while you sleep.

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appocalipse · 4 months

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MAKE IT EASY : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON

・❥・part 1・part 2 ❥・3.8k words

Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?

requested by my beloved @stevebabey 🥺

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble, and now, oh well...I had to split it into two parts. here we go.

・❥・

It was the epitome of a terrible idea.

And it had started that day.

The very moment Steve walked into the diner your family owned, you knew something was wrong. Not that it was uncommon for Steve to visit you at work — not at all. In fact, it was almost a weekly occurrence, the highlight of it, in fact, for you; the odd part was that Steve never showed up alone, without at least a few of the kids. On that Wednesday night, he was not only alone but also strangely nervous.

You rarely saw Steve get nervous. His confidence was as much a part of him as his signature perfect hair. But tonight, his hands fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, eyes darting around the diner as if searching for an escape route. He looked like he was trying to convince himself to leave.

Weird.

"Steve," you greeted him with a warm smile, hoping to ease his obvious tension a little bit as he approached the counter. "You look like you've seen a Demogorgon."

It was supposed to be a joke. You only felt comfortable saying that now because — luckily — things had been quiet at Hawkins. It had been a long time since you and your friends had to deal with one. But something about Steve's demeanor really made you wonder if there was more to this visit than just a friendly catch-up.

He tried for a convincing chuckle, but it came out tinged with a hint of sadness instead. "I wish," he said, and then quickly shook his head, "Actually no, of course not. I kinda…There's something I wanted to-"

You furrowed your brows, concern knitting your features together. At this point, Steve's tension seemed to be rubbing off on you.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, just…can we talk?"

"Of course."

He glanced around the diner, gaze briefly flitting over the empty tables and the neon glow of the jukebox. "Not here," he murmured, voice barely audible above the din of conversation and clinking dishes. It was a busy night, despite being Wednesday. "Can you, like, take a break?"

For Steve, of course you could.

Curiosity mingled with concern, and you followed his lead, stepping out into the cool night air. The streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the pavement. You leaned against the side of the building, your eyes fixed on Steve, awaiting an explanation for his beyond unusual behavior.

He raked his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that seemed magnified in this moment. "Look," he began, his voice tinged with a vulnerability you hadn't heard before, "I need a favor- a big one."

Oh, Jesus. "Steve," you placed a hand over your chest, breathing a sigh of relief. "For a moment there I thought you were going to say something terrible. A favor? C'mon, sure. What do you want me to do?"

Steve's eyes met yours, his gaze earnest and…vulnerable?

"I... I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend... Just for one night!" he quickly added, like he was afraid you might misinterpret his request, say no even before he could finish… but no, of course you wouldn't. Far from it.

Who wouldn't want to date Steve Harrington?

"But why would you-"

"My parents," Steve interjected, tone deeply tinged with unease, "they're in town."

"Oh." Steve rarely ever spoke about his parents, and their mere presence seemed to have stirred a sense of apprehension within him. "Are they still... difficult?"

You knew you were touching scars, deep scars. You made sure to be gentle.

Steve sighed, gaze fixed on the ground.

"Yeah, you could say that," a hint of frustration colored his voice, as if he were carrying on his shoulders the weight of every little judgemental glare they had ever sent his way. "Nothing I do is ever enough for them. They've always been focused on money and success. To them, that's the measure of worth. And because I don't fit their mold of the perfect, ambitious son, they treat me like…well, you know how they treat me."

Indeed, you knew.

Steve looked like he didn't know you were unable to say no to him.

And that's how you put yourself into one hell of a mess.

It's Saturday night and you're standing in front of the mirror, desperately trying to zip up your stupid dress. Why anyone would put a zipper in the back of a dress, in the most difficult possible place for a person to reach on their own, is something you are unable to fathom.

But then again, maybe you're the stupid one in this story, you think bitterly, since it was you who chose the dress with the zipper in the back in the first place.

Why are you trying so hard, though?

"I'm not," you tell yourself out loud, stubbornly.

There is a big pile of discarded clothes on your bed that says otherwise.

With a feeling akin to fear bubbling in your stomach, you glance at the clock. It's almost seven. For fuck's sake.

You're late.

Steve will arrive soon, and you are apparently unable to close the damn zipper of your own dress, no matter in which awkward positions you try twisting yourself into…you just can't reach it.

The doorbell rings.

The world is truly a dark place, isn't it?

You freeze. It can only be Steve. Shit, shit, shit! For a moment, you consider the idea of simply not opening the door, turning off the lights and pretending you never agreed to take part in this madness that is dining with the Harringtons.

HA! As if you'd really be able to turn your back on Steve.

You take a deep breath, accepting the battle you just lost, and decide that your only and best option is to simply open the door and ask Steve for help — mortified or not. With no choice but to leave the dress with the zipper still open and your back somewhat exposed, you quickly walk to the door to open it.

"Sorry, I'm late," you say, a little out of breath. "I had a little problem with the dress and I... flowers?"

Flowers, for sure. Steve holds a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He looks at you for a moment, then his eyes run over the partly open dress and your exposed skin for a couple of seconds too long to be accidental. You swallow thickly.

"Yeah I..." he shakes his head, a little uncomfortable standing there, and then his eyes meet yours. "The flowers are for you. Do you want me to...?" he mimics the motion of closing a zipper.

You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there is no choice but to accept. You look at him, a mix of gratitude and nervousness in your eyes.

"Yeah, that would be great," you reply, stumbling over the words.

If he notices, he doesn't say anything.

Steve comes closer and hands you the bouquet, your fingers briefly touching his. You catch a whiff of his cologne — citrusy fruit and wood notes — as you turn around, brushing your hair away from your neck.

For a moment, Steve does nothing, and you wonder if he is just figuring out the best way to close the zipper…or something else entirely.

His touch ghosts down your bare back before his hand finally, finally finds the zipper. Slowly, he pulls it up, inch by inch, and you hold your breath for a moment, lost in a feeling your best friend is definitely not supposed to evoke in you. You feel the dress tighten, fabric adjusting to your body, his fingers inevitably brushing your skin and sending unexpected tingles up your spine. You try to ignore the trail of electricity left by the tip of his fingers as you turn to face him, eyes finding his.

"There you go", he murmurs, taking his hands off you and taking a small step back. "You look very... girlfriend."

You laugh.

"Thank you", you say softly, your heart beating faster. "You also look very boyfriend."

A small smile plays on Steve's lips, a flush creeping up his cheeks. Or maybe it's just the cold night breeze coming through the open door...

Steve's gaze drifts to your lips and lingers there for way too long to be accidental. He is so close that he starts crushing the bouquet between the two of you…

Something clicks inside of you. Common sense, perhaps.

"Thank you... for the flowers."

The spell breaks; he moves away so fast that you almost drop the flowers on the floor.

"Yeah, uh, no problem," he says quickly, regaining his composure. "Ready to go?"

Disappointment stabs at you, but you try to hide it. Maybe you imagined too much, read signs where there were none.

"Sure. I'll just put the flowers in a vase."

It's an excuse to catch your breath. You walk to the kitchen, put water in the first clean container you find and put the flowers in it. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Your heart is racing and yet nothing has happened. It's just dinner, you tell yourself, I've had dinner with Steve and the others before. It's just dinner.

So why did you try so hard to look beautiful? insists the other voice in your mind. You decide it's best not to answer.

"You okay?"

Steve is at the kitchen door, all concern and soft brown eyes. You must have taken too long.

"Yes, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile to calm your own anxiety. "I was just taking care of the flowers. Ready to go?"

Steve nods. A gentleman, he opens the car door for you to get in. It's a short drive to the Harrington house, and you take the opportunity to try to calm your nerves. Looking out the window, you watch the city lights blinking as you approach your destination.

You look at him. You have the impression that Steve is driving slightly slower than necessary.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, unsure.

Steve briefly glances at you before returning his attention to the road, looking so stiff you're under the impression he might break his back at any moment.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Why did you ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? I mean, I understand the part about your parents…but why didn't you bring someone you're actually dating or something?"

There's a brief moment of silence before Steve responds, his voice a bit softer.

"Actually, I'm not really dating anyone at the moment," he admits. "And when my parents mentioned the dinner, I kind of panicked. I didn't want to show up alone and face more questions about my life, you know?"

"I know," you respond, understandingly. "And why did you choose me specifically?"

He looks away for a moment before answering.

"Because you're perfect," he says, finally looking back at you. Then quickly, as if he only just realized the words slipped out on their own, he adds, nervously staring back at the road, "I mean, my parents, they... you're perfect for them. They're going to love you."

You feel a mix of surprise, satisfaction, and confusion with Steve's response. You try not to read any deeper meaning behind the words, telling yourself not to notice how he quickly tries to disguise them.

"I see," you reply, although you don't really understand anything. Steve seems to say one thing when he means another. "Well, I hope I can do well. I mean, I'm not very convincing when I lie."

Steve smiles briefly and nods.

"I'm sure you'll be great. Just... be yourself."

You appreciate Steve's vote of confidence and focus on staying calm as the car approaches the Harringtons' house. Although there's still a lingering questioning in your mind about Steve's earlier response, you decide to set it aside for now and focus on the immediate task.

Steve parks the car, and you both step out together. Nervousness returns as you approach the front door. You exchange a quick glance with Steve, seeking mutual encouragement.

As you walk toward the house's entrance, Steve's hand finds yours. He gently squeezes it, and you're not sure if he's trying to convey or seek comfort himself. You don't mind anyway.

The door opens, revealing Steve's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. As you prepare to enter their house, they cast evaluative glances your way, as you had expected. Mrs. Harrington's smile seems a bit forced, while Mr. Harrington maintains a serious expression you can't even begin to try to read.

It's not like you expected anything different.

"Mom," says Steve in lieu of a greeting. "Dad."

"Steve, you finally made it," says Mrs. Harrington, her tone somehow a mix of relief and disapproval. "And this must be your... girlfriend."

Steve maintains his composure as he introduces you, although you can sense a slight tension in his shoulders. It's only when he says your last name that Steve's parents' gazes turn into something completely different, almost a scientific interest.

Hawkins is a small place. Your parents' business is respected enough in town.

All eyes turn to you, and you try not to show the insecurity you feel inside. Mr. Harrington studies you for a moment, his penetrating gaze seeming to assess your suitability for his son.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Mr. Harrington," he finally says, extending an unusually large hand for a formal greeting.

You shake his hand firmly, trying to convey a confidence you're not quite sure you feel. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Harrington. Thank you for the invitation."

Mrs. Harrington still seems a bit unsettled but composes herself as she invites you inside. You're making your way toward the dining room when you feel Steve's hand intertwine with yours again, and when your gaze meets his, he's smiling.

Thank you, he mouths.

You smile back.

During dinner, you make an effort to be as pleasant and interesting as you can possibly be in the eyes of Steve's parents, responding politely and trying to find points of common interest. In turn, Steve makes an effort to showcase his worth, defending his accomplishments, however small and sharing his plans for the future, painting an image of maturity that, you can tell by the look in his parents' eyes, they were not expecting.

Throughout the evening, you realize that although Steve's parents are demanding and neglectful in many aspects, they also seem to have their own insecurities and concerns. They want the best for Steve, even if their way of expressing it is at least…unusual.

As the night progresses, you find yourself navigating this strange family dynamic better and better, to the point where Steve's parents' attention is fully on you, and it doesn't even feel that uncomfortable anymore. You even laugh at one point.

By the end of the dinner, as you two prepare to leave, you notice a very similar expression of relief on the faces of Steve's parents. They seem to have found some kind of approval in the way you both behaved together during the evening.

As you say goodbye, Mr. Harrington extends his hand again, but this time, his handshake is warmer, less formal, and Mrs. Harrington's smile almost seems genuine. Almost.

"It was a pleasure having you here," she says. "You should bring her more often, Steve."

You and Steve exchange a look of surprise. Had you somehow managed to create a connection with his parents?

As you walk away from the Harringtons' house, Steve's hand finds yours for the third time that night, and an optimistic part of you registers the fact that there's no one else here to see. He gently squeezes it, his brown eyes filled with gratitude when they meet yours.

"You were amazing," he says, genuinely smiling.

In the car, during the ride back, you both talk animatedly about the night and his parents' reactions. The tension from dinner seems to have diminished, leaving you both more relaxed and confident.

When you arrive in front of your house, Steve turns off the car and gets out to accompany you to the front door, even after you— out of politeness, mind you — said it's really not necessary.

"You know, I didn't expect everything to go so well tonight," says Steve, with a playful smile. "I can't believe I'm saying this about a dinner with my parents, but thanks to you, it was even fun."

You laugh. "I kinda had fun too. I think we did better than we thought possible."

"You're amazing," he says again, and this time his voice carries a softer, more intimate tone. His eyes meet yours, shining, and you see admiration there…maybe, you dare to think, something even deeper.

The silence grows tense. Your heart races. There's something special happening between you, you know there is; this goes beyond mere friendship or pretending to be a couple for one night…doesn't it?

Are you imagining this?

"Steve..."

You can't finish before he's leaning in slowly, and you're almost certain his eyes are fixed on your lips. For a feverish moment, you think Steve is going to kiss you.

He tilts his head last second. You feel the softness of his lips brushing against your cheek a moment later, a light and brief kiss, mouth almost uncertain against your warm skin….and then it's over.

Steve pulls back slowly.

"Goodnight," he says, eyes soft, smile softer. "Thank you…for today."

"You're welcome."

It's only when you enter the house that the dress dilemma comes to mind.

Well…shit.

The zipper at the back is still unreachable for you, and you can't undo it yourself unless you use scissors — which, considering the price you paid for it, you really don't want to do.

With few options and too much embarrassment, you decide to call Steve back while you still can.

"Steve?" you practically shout, your embarrassment immediately doubling. He's about to open the door of his trusted BMW when he turns to you, confused and unfairly handsome under the street light.

Suddenly using the scissors on the dress doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Well, too late.

"Could you, you know... " you ask, gesturing to the back of your dress, "help me with the zipper?"

His initial surprise quickly gives way to a nervous smile.

"Sure. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't help?"

"I'm sure that's one of the many job duties."

"Definitely. And I strive to be a top-notch fake boyfriend."

He steps in. With the door closed behind the two of you, the atmosphere takes on a sense of intimacy and anticipation.

"I really can't reach the zipper," you feel the need to explain, even more flustered by his silence.

"No problem," Steve says with that gentle tone that makes your heart do funny things inside your chest. "Turn around."

You turn so that he can reach the dress' zipper, and now you're facing the large oval mirror in the hallway, with Steve standing right behind you.

He reaches out gently, his fingers lightly brushing the back of your dress.

Breathe in.

The temperature around you seems to rise a few degrees.

Breath out.

You feel the gentle pressure of his fingers as he starts to slide the zipper down. He touches your skin and you tell yourself that this is inevitable, that he didn't mean to…but he lingers. Lingers just enough for you to tense up and let out a breathless sigh you certainly didn't intend to.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, his voice soft, filled with concern. You know he's looking at you through the mirror and that's precisely why you keep your gaze on the floor. "Are my fingers cold?"

"No, your fingers..." your voice sounds hoarse. You clear your throat. "...it's fine, I'm okay."

I'm great. I'm more than okay. Nothing out of the ordinary happening here.

However, when the zipper seems to momentarily get stuck — because of course it had to — the two of you exchange equally panicked looks through the mirror, though perhaps for different reasons. An uncomfortable silence fills the air as Steve tries to fix the issue.

"I'm... it's just... sorry, it seems to be stuck."

There's a moment of awkward silence as he tries to figure out a way to open the zipper. You can feel the tension in the air as he struggles to handle the situation.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" you joke, desperately trying to ease the tension.

Steve lets out a low laugh, his warm breath gently caressing your neck.

"Absolutely," he replies, his voice slightly husky. Then, probably without so much as noticing, he adds, "I've taken off many dresses before."

Oh.

"Steve-"

Steve doesn't give up. With skilled fingers, he adjusts the position of the zipper and makes another attempt. It moves.

"We're almost there," he murmurs softly, his voice close to your ear.

Finally, with a smooth motion, the zipper gives way, sliding all the way down. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you turn around to face Steve, finding his eyes filled with excitement.

"I did it!"

His enthusiastic smile soon gives way to something else as he realizes how close — and technically partly undressed — you are.

And close you are, so very close. Close enough that you and Steve are somehow breathing the same air now.

Close enough, you realize, that a slight tilt of the head and...you'd be kissing.

Kissing.

Did he notice that too?

You hold your dress up over your chest to make sure it doesn't fall because, well…no matter how distracted you are, it's not enough that you'd risk a wardrobe malfunction that'll leave you standing there naked in front of Steve Harrington.

"...thanks," you manage a whisper, lips a hair's breadth away from his. You do know that Steve has no reason not to go now that dinner is over and everything went (surprisingly) well, but a part of you wonders if maybe…

Steve's hands hover around your waist as if unsure of what to do next.

So close...

You hold still.

In that breathless silence, you're under the impression that Steve leans closer, even if just the slightest bit, maybe without even noticing.

"Steve…" you slowly tilt your head to the side.

Steve's heart is pounding in his chest as he feels the warmth of your breath against his lips. Stop, he thinks. His eyes flutter closed, and Steve can't help but lean in just a little bit more.

He raises his arm as if to touch you, wanting to touch you, to hold your face, to bring you closer…but he stops with one of his hands hovering near your cheek.

He pulls away with a gasp, his hands flying up to his face in shock. "I should-" he stammers. "I need to go."

Bam.

Door closed.

And just like that, he's out of the house before you can even open your eyes properly.

He just…pulled away.

What the hell was that?

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve x you #steve x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington drabble

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moondirti · 15 days

Text

big fan of the headcanon that simon riley is hard to get.

if we're being realistic, he's probably gotten very good at ignoring any inclination he might have towards a person in the years since his families' murder. it's easier to function as a soldier, as ghost, when he doesn't have to carry the burden of concern for someone so vulnerable. whether it's worrying about their safety while he's on deployment and can't afford to, or otherwise repressing his darker tendencies in an effort not to break them; the extra effort just isn't worth it to him. he won't seek you out, he won't take care of you, he won't reassure and coddle and communicate.

and he's not blind, nor is he passionless. he can appreciate a pretty face when one happens to pass by, but that's pretty much the extent of it. he's gotten used to the scorch of the lonely flame that flickers inside of him. if anything, he thinks putting it out and tending to the burns left in its wake would be a more traumatic ordeal than just letting it consume him.

so for him to accept love, it'd have to sneak up on him.

it happens with johnny first. he's the natural candidate, of course. his stubborn subordinate, clever with a fixated loyalty and quick wit – who better than him to get under ghost's skin?

granted, he isn't as guarded around him as he would've been with a civilian. not as cold upon introduction because he doesn't need to be. soap's a soldier, and this is work, and he's confident enough in the sergeant's resilience that it doesn't hinder his routine. he doesn't have to make accommodations, bend backwards or wake up in a cold sweat concerned about the man's wellbeing; not at first, anyway. and such are the floodgates that allow him to embrace johnny's company.

jokes crackled over comms. sitting next to each other on the airlifter. claps on the back after a successful operation. trust in every decision he chooses to take, regardless of whether or not he agrees. he thinks about johnny's eyes, johnny's smile, johnny's fierce little pout and the scar on his chin – but everything in moderation. the perfectly healthy amount. passing appreciation of his best mate's features and nothing more. it's the only meaningful connection he's had in years, and so what if he tugs his cock to the thought of it? people have cum to less.

until the bastard gets himself shot in the liver on solo reconnaissance in cyprus, and almost dies on medevac.

because when ghost gets that call from price – soap's hurt. it's looking grim. – he's wracked with a terror so acute he thinks his heart has given up on him. it's about the worst way to find out that he considers johnny as more than a friend. this sheer desperation, longing, regret. he ponders over it in the plane, tries to scrub the dread from his being. tries to pick apart what went wrong, what makes the sergeant so special.

by the time he reaches the hospital, he's already accepted defeat. all it takes is one look at johnny in his hospital bed – features peaceful, bandages wrapped around his bare chest, mohawk and facial hair grown out – to understand that this isn't going away anytime soon. he'll just have to make his peace with it. readjust to accommodate the protective flare already sparking in his chest.

it's a hassle, but manageable. despite his injury, johnny's still a competent man. they already know how to function in bouts of high stress. they're good– great friends. all this is really is an opportunity for simon to finally dig his cock within an ass he's been eyeing for months – or at least, that's the rationale he uses to come to terms.

and then you arrive. and things get a whole lot more complicated.

johnny's bird, apparently – gaz whispers to him outside of the inpatient room, watching through the window as you fret over the comatose man's pillows – didn' know he had one. m'surprised. you'd think a loudmouth like him would let the world know. she's cute too. really, ghost, did you have any idea?

he can't find it in him to respond, opting instead to march back into the room. you're fussing too much, causing a scene, no doubt disturbing the air with the nervous energy radiating off you in waves.

"he isn' supposed to be elevated like tha'," simon scolds, inflating a bit when you straighten up, eyes blowing wide with distress.

"oh... i just thought- he gets all hot when he lays on his back like this. i wanted him to be comfortable."

he knows that he's being cruel. you've done absolutely nothing to deserve the harsh glare he shoots your way, nor should you be expected to handle it. your eyes are red-rimmed, puffy like you've been crying on the way over. no doubt unused to crises like this one. he should be a help, not another source of stress.

besides. johnny's your boyfriend, not his. he has no reason to be so territorial. he'd only just discovered his feelings eight hours ago.

but–

"are you a doctor?"

"n-no."

"then it's best you keep your opinion to yourself."

he just can't help himself.

over the next week, ghost treats you with nothing more than cold disregard. he side-eyes you when you cry, wakes you up with rough pokes to your shoulder once visiting hours close, and takes every chance to one-up you when it comes down to who knows johnny better. you've got a leg up in the domestic department, but simon knows that nothing can surpass the borderline psychic bond they've built, and he makes sure to emphasise it whenever he can. and fuck, does it annoy him that you take it with grace every time, nodding receptively as though his input is meant to be more than just a searing critique of your shortcomings.

his behaviour doesn't go unnoticed, either. gaz is infinitely perplexed to see that the usually controlled lieutenant is so quick to lose his temper around you, despite your earnest efforts to not be a nuisance, and all price offers are long, disapproving looks that have him itch uncomfortably in his seat.

on the other hand, you must believe that he's just like that – foul mouthed, disparaging, mean – because you don't take it to heart. you remain pleasant, gentle, if not a little bit emotional. never once do you raise your voice at him, or fight back when he extends a particularly hurtful comment. on the occasion that his attitude grows to be too much for you, all you do is slip on a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and spread out your textbooks to spend the evening studying on the other side of the room. not keen on making amends, or discovering the source of simon's malcontent, but not affected by it either. you're peaceful. conflict averse. a good girl.

then, you come back one day with a tupperware of cookies.

"i made them myself last night. couldn't sleep, so..." you shrug, holding it out towards him. he assesses them, assesses you, roving over your chapped lips and hollow under-eyes. when did you get to look so defeated?

"no." he looks away, back to the unconscious man in front of him. in his periphery, your shoulders deflate, and he doesn't know what compels him to add the quiet "thanks."

"you've been here every hour of every day. i don't think i've seen you eat. um–" you dodge his gaze when it shoots to you. you've never tried to hold a conversation before now, have always accepted his gruff responses as an indication to leave him alone. he wonders why you can't catch the hint now. "just- let me know if you change your mind. they're shortbread."

and that's the end of it. at least until an hour later:

you're sitting on your armchair, directly across the bed from him, staring blankly at johnny when you speak up. "lieutenant?"

ghost doesn't remember introducing himself to you. he doesn't respond, but clenches his jaw to let you know he's listening.

"he's been comatose for a while." you warble. meaningless chatter. he sees it for what it is: talking so you don't cry. seeking reassurance in someone who knows how these things go.

"hm."

"is this how it usually-"

"sometimes."

"oh."

"he'll be alright." simon adds. more for himself than for you, but your lip wobbles like it's exactly what you needed to hear.

a few moments later, you speak up again.

"he holds you in such high regard, y'know."

he didn't. his heart aches as he follows the rise and fall of johnny's chest, finds solace in it, calming himself before he rips the hair from his skull. he can't speak, can't muster a rude dismissal, or any hatred for you. not anymore. this hospital has sucked the soul from him, as it seems to have done with you.

"he'll be happy to know you've stuck to his side." you smile, stirring from your seat and slinging your bag over your shoulder. "i have to go, got an exam tomorrow. i'll leave the cookies here in case you crave one."

you're halfway out when simon replies. "good luck."

and he's on his third cookie when johnny finally wakes. by then, he's already made up his mind. it's revelation he comes to much faster than the first.

if he can't have just johnny, he'll take you both.

#i ran out of steam towards the end could you tell #ghostsoap #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x reader x johnny 'soap' mactavish #johnny 'soap' mactavish x reader #ghostsoap x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x johnny 'soap' mactavish #call of duty

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vsimp · 10 months

Text

bitter

pairing: kamisato ayato x f!reader

wc: 3k

genre: angst

summary: where you are in an arranged marriage with him and you rarely ever see him

warning: somewhat traditional housewife roles, negative thoughts

What a cruel fate it was, to fall in love with a man who neither loves or hates you.

To spend long, cold nights alone. A large, indifferent room divided by two separate futons.

You knew that your husband was a busy man. He worked all night, barely resting during the day, and every time you’ve caught glimpse of his office, there was always a huge mess laying around on his desk. But having been married to him for such a long time, you felt that the distance between you two grew longer and longer every day.

In the morning, you would greet him with the biggest smile you could muster. He would greet you back with the same gentle smile everyday. At this point, you knew what his real smile looked like. You don’t recall when the last time he’s ever given you one.

If Miss Ayaka and Thoma were busy, and you dined alone with your husband, the table would be silent. You didn’t know what to say, and he’d also be reading over papers while eating, so you were afraid to disturb him. If the two were present, or if there were any other guests, Ayato would be more active in the conversation, joking lightheartedly and appearing like he was actually enjoying himself.

This man did not treat you unkindly despite having these feelings that lurked in your chest. In fact, it was the opposite. He was a true gentleman every time you interacted with him. He would open the door for you while you two walked together. He would pull out the chair when you wanted to sit. He would hold your hand and escort you to any event, or if you were getting on/off a carriage.

But it was all superficial. It felt like he was forcing himself to do these actions for you. You couldn’t even tell what his intentions are for doing so. You couldn’t tell if he just disliked you, disliked this arranged marriage, or if he just wanted people to see what a loving husband he was, that everything was okay right now even though it really wasn’t.

From touchless nights to meaningless small talk, your heart ached at the thought of everything. You don’t ever recall the last time he’s kissed you on the lips in private. You don’t recall the last time he’s ever opened up to you about the depths of his heart, from the things that scared him the most, to the things that has made him truly happy.

And while you know that a relationship thrives off of communication, you couldn’t help but feel scared. You were scared that the man in front of you would grow even colder, shutting off the depths of his heart forever, pushing you away if you were to ever confront him. Maybe he’d even take it to an extreme and call off the marriage with you, telling you that he never loved you, as this was really only an arrangement between your two families. Maybe he was in love with someone else prior to this marriage, and he has only reserved his heart for them all of these years.

You have seen his darker sides. He doesn’t think that anyone has noticed, but you have. You were always watching him, after all.

A more mischievous side of him existed deep down in there, a certain sly foxiness that could even rival Guuji Yae herself. Sometimes, it would scare you to see that forced smile on his face as if what lingered in his mind were true thoughts darker than what he had initially led on.

But despite his flaws, despite the mask he constantly wore around, you loved him. You loved him so much it hurt. You loved how he cared for people despite them being complete strangers to him. You loved his gentle smile as he holds your hand so tenderly when you accidentally trip. How could a man be so kind, yet so cruel to your heart?

And even as you laid in bed most nights alone, shedding tears as if you were the dark side of the crystal moon longing for the light of the sun, you still loved him regardless.

You were in your futon all alone as of this moment, staring at the ceiling. The room was pitch black and silent, other than the occasional sounds of the residual droplets from the passing rain. Ayato would never let you rest in a room that was cold, so the temperature was heated comfortably, yet you couldn’t help but bundle yourself up under the covers even more.

It was cold without him. You didn’t even realize when the last time he had actually went to bed in this room you both allegedly shared.

But it didn’t matter anyways because his futon laid far away from yours.

Your own husband wouldn’t even come near you when you’re together in the same room. You didn’t know if he just wanted to be respectful as a formality between husband and wife, or if he is repulsed by being in the same vicinity as you, but it hurt regardless.

You sighed as you covered your face with the blanket, trying to get rid of these harboring thoughts. It was no use, no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop thinking about your relationship with him every single night. He is what plagues your mind at night, like a thorn lodged deep in a fingertip. It was only soon that you will be bleeding out your love for him.

How could you make a scene about all of this anyways? You've seen how hard he works. You knew that everything he did, it was for the sake of protecting his family and home. Who were you to complain about how busy he was? That was another reason why you continued to keep silent. You thought that your worries meant nothing compared to his own.

Your mind was racing a mile per minute, and you knew you weren't able to get any sleep like this. You got up and out of your futon as you decided to go for a stroll around the estate. The guards protected the outside and prevented from anybody from coming in. As long as you walked around inside, there should be no problem with you strolling the corridors, so long as you remained quiet.

Lighting up a candle, you started meandering through the halls, your footsteps nearly silent with no goal or destination in mind. You didn't even realize your feet had automatically taken you to the doors of his office, the same door that you have stared at many times, knowing that your husband was in there, but you had no reason or courage to open. You see the dimly lit light through the translucent paper sheets, and you knew that tonight was going to be another long night with no rest for him.

You sighed, not remembering the last time you had been in his office, and you were about to step away, but the door suddenly slides open rather violently. You flinch in shock because you didn’t expect for anything to happen, as he usually never notices your presence.

"Who is there?" He said in a serious tone, and you were finally greeted by the man who plagued your every thought and dreams. His hand laid on the hilt of his sword, almost as if he was ready to strike down any intruder who was lurking in the shadows. But instead of drawing his sword, he blinked a few times, realizing it was just you who stood there. He instantly let go of the sword and his expression relaxed a bit, although his eyebrows were furrowed slightly to show confusion. "Y/n? What are you doing here? It is almost 2am right now."

His presence stunned you for a second before you snapped out of the current awe-struck daze you were in. It had been quite a while since you've seen his face. He was rarely home anymore, but when he was, he would be holed up in his office. You only ever see him to greet him when he returned back home, and sometimes when he leaves, as he had a habit of sneaking out secretly every so often.

"Oh." You were flustered at this unexpected situation. "I had trouble sleeping, so I decided to go for a walk..."

"Is something troubling you?" He asked in concern. "If it is work-related with the household, then I know Ayaka would be happy to give you a hand.”

"It's not that..." You shook your head. You didn't want him to worry about you, so you tell him a small lie. "It's just one of those nights..."

"I see."

"Have you been faring well?" You then asked him.

He gave you a small, gentle smile, but you have seen this many times. It was one of the masks he wore when he wasn’t telling the truth.

"I've been doing alright," he replied. Anybody would've believed him, as he would never appear disheveled in front of anybody, but from the way his eyes had a slight dark tint underneath them and the mess that apparently was his desk with papers and pens strewn everywhere, you knew that he was far from so. "I was actually looking to take a break soon from my paperwork. Since you probably will be up for a little bit, would you care to join me?"

An invitation from him was rare, and you immediately jumped ship. You nodded. "Let me go prepare some tea."

"Oh, there's no need to do that."

"Nonsense," you gave him a reassuring smile, knowing what he was going to say. He was so considerate as always, not wanting to trouble you. "It will only be a few.”

You start to walk down the hall to head to the kitchen, but you were surprised to hear footsteps behind you. Before you knew it, Ayato was walking beside you, and you could hear your heart thumping in your chest.

"Ayato?" You questioned.

It was dim, as the candle was the only thing that lit the dark halls, so you can barely make out his expression.

"I'll tag along with you then." He said softly, as to not wake anybody else up. "It will be a good change of pace from being stuck in my office all night."

To you, he was so hard to read at times. If he was accompanying you, he surely must have his reasons, as he had never used any of his personal time on you before. He only accompanied you outside when he had a special meeting at an event that required for both spouses to arrive. Those were the only times when he was somewhat affectionate. That was why you were nervous when he decided to come along with you, thinking he had an ulterior motive like he usual does. But a small, small part of you hoped that it was something else; that he wanted to join you because he missed you and just wanted to idly chat.

You stepped into the kitchen and then lit a brighter lantern to illuminate the room using your own candle. But before you could do anything else, you watched as Ayato's hand pushed a portion of your hair aside. You couldn't help but feel your cheeks heat up at the action, your eyes making its way towards him now that you were able to see his face.

He wore a gentle smile on his face as he looked down at you tenderly. A rare expression indeed, you’ve only noted him to give this look to Ayaka. It made your heart hurt a little as it thumped away in your chest, feeling like you could soar to the moon and never come back.

"Your hair was getting close to the flames, so I didn't want it to burn,” he explained.

"Oh..." You didn't know what else you could say. "Thank you..."

With that, you started boiling the kettle of water, your body moving to find tea leaves. Ayato watches on without speaking a word, and you two drift into a somewhat lulling silence.

As you prepared your leaves, Ayato interrupted the silence no sooner than later.

“There’s another event that the Kanjou Commission is hosting,” he said. There it was. He needed you to attend another political event with him. You were once so naive to think that he would actually spend time with you just because he wanted to. You knew he hated small talk and would rather get straight to the point. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind attending it with me.”

Of course you didn’t mind, if it meant that you would be spending more time with him. But even if you did expect for this, you were still disappointed.

“Sure. When will it be?”

“In two months. They’re hosting a party event to discuss upcoming financial plans for the winter.”

You nodded, your hands a little rougher than usual as you crushed up the dried tea leaves in the mortar. Usually you would hide your emotions well, but it definitely showed in the way you pounded at the leaves.

If Ayato had noticed your switch in moods, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he went over to the cabinet to grab two cups for the tea.

“I appreciate it. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

Another blatant lie fueled only by courtesy. He always says this whenever you did a favor for him. If you were to truly ask for a favor, he would have Thoma somehow fulfill it, or he would say that he was too busy to do it himself, and that he would make it up later. He would send a gift, picked out by either Thoma or Ayaka of course, to later apologize for not fulfilling your promise.

And although it has only happened four or five times before you’d stop asking him for favors, knowing that he was too busy to fulfill them, it still left a bitter feeling within you.

You felt that it was selfish for you to feel this way. You knew that he had lost his parents at a young age, having to resume the role as the leader of the Yashiro Commission and head of the Kamisato Clan very early in life. You thought it wasn’t right for you to feel bitter about small things like this. Yet, as you glanced at the man in front of you, who barely looked at you and instead stared at the bright full moon outside, your heart ached at this solemn expression— one that loomed with fatigue and tiredness.

Maybe what you truly longed for was his happiness. Maybe you wanted to share that happiness with him, although you knew it would be a long shot. So long as he was the head of the Yashiro Commission, the leader of the Shuumatsuban, there will always be a distance between you two, as he prioritized things differently from any other typical person. Even though he was in the same room as you right now, as the moon peaked through the small window, the cicadas singing in the distance, he still looked as alone as ever. Like there was an unmeasurable length between you two, and you were too afraid to cross it, in fear that you would never be able to reach him.

The kettle soon starts to heat up, and you take it off the flame to start steeping the tea leaves. A few minutes of silence passed, and you wondered then if he was going to leave immediately after he finished his tea. It was still hot, so you had a couple more minutes left with him, right?

You poured the tea carefully in the cup and then proceeded to hand it over to him.

“It’s hot, so be careful.”

“Thank you,” he smiled at you and graciously accepted the tea. He picked it up to his lips, blowing it a few times as he inhaled the scent. “This smells like a different type of tea than the one you served at the event the other day.”

You remembered that event. You were attending a birthday party for an old couple who were close friends with the Kamisato’s. You brewed that tea with extra care, knowing that Ayato was going to drink it on that very occasion.

“It was truly delicious,” he complimented and you felt your heart soar at his words once more. “I know I never told you this, but it was one of my favorite hot teas.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” I smiled, making note to remember that information. “This one that I brewed helps with stress and calms the mind.”

He took a sip once the tea is cooled down a bit more. “I can see how this one can have that effect. It’s a very mild, but calming flavor. It’s a good choice for you to brew this, since it will probably help you sleep.”

Actually, you had brewed it for him, so that he wouldn’t stress so much, but you held your tongue back. Instead, you took a sip of the hot tea, trying to match his pace so that you both could finish at the same time.

“I hope you like it,” you said.

“I do enjoy it quite a bit,” he replied with a small smile on his face. “I will take it to my office and savor it. I appreciate you willing to spend time with me.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“I hope you get some sleep soon, and try not to stay awake for too long,” your husband stated. “Please pardon me, I must return to my work.”

You forced out a smile in return, knowing that he had cut his time off with you short on purpose.

“Have a good night, Ayato.”

He gave a small nod as he walked out with the tea in his hand. You waited for the door to fully shut before you leaned on the counter with your back pressed to it.

He didn't even wait to finish the tea before he left. He just went straight to the point, pushing you aside as if your feelings had never mattered to him in the first place.

Your hands gripped the ceramic tea cup tightly. It felt like if you had held it tight enough, it would shatter and break, scalding your skin like the way your husband did just now.

Your tears dripped into the tea, the salty solution messing with the delicate taste of the drink as you sipped it, not wanting anything to go to waste. What was once a calming, smooth taste was now bitter.

So, so bitter.

It was another cruel, lonely night that awaited you.

#repost from this morning because I don’t see it listed when tagged #when u just started this blog and ur already soft shadowbanned #genshin impact #genshin #Kamisato Ayato #Kamisato Ayato x reader #Kamisato Ayato x reader angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #Ayato x reader #Ayato x reader angst #genshin angst

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