#because We Barely Get To See You We Get So Few Opportunities Like This | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

its-avalon-08 · 17 hours

Note

Hiiiii!! Can I request a daniel ricciardo x driver! reader? Like a grumpy! reader x sunshine! danny? with a hint of friends to lovers but the grid doesn’t know?

I was so excited to see someone open their request and can’t wait to read everythinggggg! Super grateful for the opportunity🫶 may you have a great time writing<3

Ps. It’s totally okay if this doesn’t get a response, I still look forward reading your other works ❤️

she's my grump

the monaco grand prix was always a whirlwind. the air crackled with champagne and exhaust fumes, celebrities swarmed the paddock, and for danny ricciardo, it was pure electric. but amidst the chaos, his gaze always landed on you, his secret weapon – literally and figuratively.

you, (y/n) (l/n), were the engineer who made his car a sleek, purring beast. you were also the complete opposite of him. where danny was sunshine personified, you were a sly smile and a dry wit, a black cat in a room full of golden retrievers. being slightly reserved whilst dating the man with the biggest smile would seem odd to others, but danny loved you in all your light.

"alright team!" danny boomed, his energy radiating as he clapped his hands. "let's make monaco ours!"

you, in redbull uniform, raised an eyebrow. "more coffee, sunshine?" you deadpanned, handing him a steaming mug.

he grinned, taking a swig. "thanks, (y/n). you're a lifesaver." he winked, then lowered his voice conspiratorially, "just remember, if we win, that victory shoey is all yours."

you snorted, a small sound that always tickled danny's heart. "just don't splash champagne on me and make sure you don't scratch the car."

he chuckled, leaning closer. "don't worry, love. i wouldn't dream of it." the last word was barely a whisper, sending a shiver down your spine. you were dating for a few months now, a secret you both fiercely guarded. it wasn't because you were ashamed, rather it was to protect both of your personal lives. you had been friends for seven years and dating for one year. all the other drivers loved you and saw you as a little sister. being the polar opposite of daniel, everyone thought you were a match made in heaven.

flashback

the cityscape of singapore twinkled below, a kaleidoscope of neon against the inky night. danny, relaxed after a podium finish, leaned against the balcony railing, a beer balanced precariously in his hand. you perched on a nearby chair, fiddling with a stray napkin. six years of friendship, countless late-night talks, and a simmering desire that threatened to boil over. tonight, you were determined to make a move.

"crazy race, right?" you started, your voice barely above a whisper. you hated how nervous you felt around him, a stark contrast to your usual sharp wit.

danny chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "yeah, those final laps were a heart-stopper. but hey, at least i didn't get sandwiched between bottas and verstappen this time."

you managed a smile. "true. though, witnessing your car-handling skills under pressure is always a treat for the eyes." a teasing lilt crept into your voice, the one that usually made him laugh. but tonight, he just raised an eyebrow, his gaze holding yours.

"so," you continued, feeling a familiar heat creep up your cheeks, "about that victory dinner tomorrow night..."

"yeah?" he prompted, taking a swig of his beer.

"well, i was thinking, maybe we could..." you trailed off, the carefully rehearsed words dissolving on your tongue. frustration bubbled within you. why was this so hard?

"maybe we could what?" danny asked gently, his voice laced with a hint of concern.

you squeezed the napkin in your hand, the flimsy paper threatening to tear. "forget it. it's stupid."

"hey," danny said, setting his beer down and turning to face you fully. his eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now soft and serious. "nothing you say is stupid, (y/n)."

you looked away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze. "except maybe what i was about to say."

a beat of silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken emotions. you felt a tear prick your eye, the frustration morphing into a strange mix of despair and defiance.

"look, danny," you blurted out, your voice shaky, "we've been friends for, what, six years now? we practically share a brain when it comes to the car. but lately... lately, things feel different."

he stepped closer, his presence a tangible warmth in the cool night air. "different how?"

you took a shaky breath. "i don't know how to say this. it's stupid, really. but..." you met his gaze, your voice barely audible, "i think i might be falling for you."

the words hung heavy in the air. a flicker of surprise crossed danny's face, then a slow smile spread across his lips. it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

"you think?" he said, his voice a husky whisper. he cupped your face in his hand, his thumb gently brushing away the stray tear that escaped your eye.

"maybe," you mumbled, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

before you could say anything else, danny closed the gap between you. his kiss was soft, tentative at first, then deepened with a newfound urgency. it was a kiss filled with unspoken desires, a culmination of years of unspoken feelings. you melted into him, the familiar warmth of his friendship now tinged with a passionate intensity that left you breathless.

when he finally pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, you could hear the ragged rhythm of his breath.

"i think i might be falling for you too, (y/n)," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. "a lot more than maybe."

a laugh, shaky but genuine, escaped your lips. relief washed over you, mingled with a newfound sense of joy. in the neon glow of singapore night, under the watchful gaze of a million twinkling stars, you knew this was just the beginning of something extraordinary.

end of flashback

the qualifying session was a nail-biter. you watched from the pit wall, your fingers unconsciously tapping a rhythm against the table. danny caught your eye, flashed a reassuring smile, and then was off, a blur of blue and red. when he secured pole position, the team erupted.

in the celebratory chaos, danny spotted you amidst the throng, a lone island of calm amidst the cheering. he weaved his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on you. reaching you, he bent down slightly, a playful glint in his eyes.

"ready to celebrate, ms. genius ?" he asked, extending his hand.

you smirked, a playful jab back. "only if it involves avoiding exuberant displays of footwear."

he laughed, a sound that always warmed your heart. "no promises, love," he winked, then surprised you. his hand, instead of taking yours, brushed yours lightly, his pinky extending out and interlocking with yours.

you knew what it meant. a silent exchange in your secret language. a small gesture, easily missed by others, but to you, it was a secret handshake, a whispered affirmation in the middle of the storm. your own pinky curled around his, a silent promise. being a black cat dating the biggest golden retriever

the race was a heart-stopper. strategy calls crackled through your earpiece, fueling your anxiety. finally, the checkered flag fell, and danny emerged victorious. the roar of the crowd was deafening.

as danny jumped out of the car, his helmet still on, he scanned the crowd. his eyes met yours, and a wide grin split his face. he sprinted towards you, the cameras flashing around you. but he ignored them all, reaching you and scooping you into a tight hug.

"we did it, (y/n)!" he shouted, his voice muffled by your silky hair.

you hugged him back tightly, a surge of relief and pride washing over you. in that moment, under the watchful eyes of the oblivious crowd, you knew your secret weapon wasn't just the science behind the car. it was the sunshine-haired driver with whom you shared a silent language, a pinky promise, and a love that thrived even in the whirlwind of monaco.

the other drivers, who had long suspected something between you two, exchanged knowing glances. lewis hamilton raised a knowing eyebrow at max verstappen. "looks like ricciardo found his lucky charm," he remarked.

max just grinned. "more like his secret weapon."

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

i hope you enjoyed! happy reading <3 do send in more requests! as for pre existing requests- im working on it! lots of love ava

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

97 notes · View notes

romanceyourdemons · 1 year

Text

i need to be locked in a fucking abandoned 19th century seaside resort. for my own safety.

#like a month ago i was sick and now i’m not actively sick but my body is still. you know how it is. kinda broken #and if i had just two days!! i won’t be greedy and ask for three if i just had two days where i could stay inside where it’s warm and rest #not talking and drinking fluids and stuff #then i think i would be better!!! shit wouldn’t hurt and i at least wouldn’t be getting worse #but i can’t take off from classes or work especially this time of year #and i hoped i might get one (1) day to rest this break but no!! no because Family is in town and we always have to go hiking or singing etc #and my mom gets so so disappointed when i suggest that maybe i would like a day not doing that #because We Barely Get To See You We Get So Few Opportunities Like This #mama i am sickly #ryddles

2 notes · View notes

fourspiceblend · 1 year

Text

It's funny cause for the most part of the game, I didn't really care about people's criticisms of Engage's writing and thought they were just mad the story was straightforward and didn't try to be overly complex... But now that I'm (finally) reaching the endgame, there's a loooot of weird plotholes that 3H would be jealous of lol.

#i think that what bothers me the most is the fact that we don't know how elyos really works #because with a few exceptions the supports don't really go into it #and the paralogues focusing on the emblems and fanservice references to the older games is a huuuuuge missed opportunity #my experience has still been overall positive but the cracks are definitely showing lmao #thinking thoughts #to be fair i do love how unlike 3h we do actually get to see the four nations have their own identity and explore them after a battle #because BOY was 3H lacking in that aspect just because they wanted to sell you a red herring #but there's telling and not showing. and there's showing and not telling. and one isn't necessarily better than the other #i need a bit of both you know #3h doesn't wanna delve too much into the intricacies of each country because the second it would do so #the whole ''da church controls errything'' red herring would fall apart and the devs really don't want that #so we gotta stay in the monastery at all times and since the monastery is in the very small chunk of land the church DOES control #it helps to keep you in the dark about how things really work #even though the storytelling makes it clear the central church barely controls anything and only intervenes when ASKED #meanwhile elyos really really shows you each kingdom with detail when it comes to aesthetics and culture. which is neat!#but we know little to nothing else even though they keep hinting that the kingdoms each work differently #and we know even LESS about lythos which bothers me the most!#and none of this would bother me at all if we didn't have stuff like the brodia/elusia conflicts in the background #or the existence of a fell dragon religion. or fucking gradlon. or the many dragon races. or kagetsu being a prince #or lumera suddenly having a child and everyone going along with it etc

10 notes · View notes

audrey-emeralds · 4 months

Text

Smashing Diamonds

Pairing: Nate Jacobs x Fem!Reader

Summary: The well-organized party turns south for Nate when he sees his former fling just a few steps away from Maddie, with whom he recently rekindled. Deciding to stay away from her, he realizes he can't help himself after noticing what she is wearing. Word count: 2.3k (2381 words)

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, name-calling, slut shaming, degradation, fingering, a bit of choking, cursing, unprotected sex

A/n: I don't know why but I got the need to try something dirty and Nate is the perfect person to try this on. Anyway, first time really trying to get into it, so I apologize if it isn't the best. Also, I wrote this as quickly as I could, because I was afraid the writer's block was gonna get me, but thankful it did!

Friday night, a perfect time for partying. When your friend Lea first mentioned the idea, you already knew what you wanted to wear. A very transparent top and skirt, with minimal material, mostly consisting of thin stripes of diamonds. A hot look for any club.

However, Lea didn't have any club on her mind. She mentioned your friends from East Highland High.

" You remember Barbara, yeah, well she said that there was this party happening on Friday and how we should totally come. " You thought about it, not much linked you to the people from there, which seemed like a great opportunity to meet new people and face new adventures. Without any hesitation, you agreed to this party.

~~~time skip~~~

After dressing up, you gave yourself a few spins, and view your reflection from the full body mirror, admiring the shiny gems that only covered small parts of your skin.

" This is going to be epic. " You took a selfie of yourself as you heard a car honking in front of your house. Quickening your steps, you managed to pass your living room with neither of your parents taking a glance at you, knowing they wouldn't approve of the outfit.

" Damn, girl, are you trying to get knocked up?!?! " Lea let her jaw fall to the floor as you were walking towards her car.

" Hahaha, not really. " A giggle slipped through your glossy lips.

" Well, good luck trying to find a guy who will pull out in time with you like this. "

You gasped dramatically, giggling once again. " Oh my God, Lea! " She winked at you, driving away from your house and straight to the party house.

Before you even stepped into the house, a smell of weed hit your nose. Alcohol bottles were at every table, every counter, and at any corner available. The whole house was covered in purple and pink lights, pouring over the crowds, not missing a single human. Music was bombing the whole place with its beat, and you couldn't wait to get to the dancing.

You noticed that just next to the big sofa, Barbara sat on an armchair, vaping casually. Lea and you made your way over to her. She quickly saw you coming her way and stood up with open arms.

" Look who's here!! " She screamed out, even though it was barely heard due to the loud music.

" So glad you could come! " She said firstly looking at Lea and then at you. It took her 10 seconds to look at you before she commented " Obviously with a purpose! "

You laughed, smiling at her and slightly shrugging. Lea just nodded enthusiastically at her. She encourages you to give Barbara a turn, at which you initially shake your arms. However, Barbara was intrigued and kept encouraging you to do so. Giving them a mocking eye roll, you spun around with Lea holding your hand in the air.

" Well shit, you better take that ass on the dance floor. " BB clicked with her tongue.

" Oh, don't worry I will, but first I need a drink to warm up. " At your words Barbara, lead you two to the drinks, giving each of you a glass.

" In that case, drink the fuck up! "

Two and a half cups of alcohol were more than enough to make you drag yourself and Lea on the dance floor. The beat was gushing out of the speakers so loudly, you could feel it in your chest.

You completely let yourself go to the music, the freedom you were able to feel while dancing was mesmerizing. Nothing else had your focus and attention, with this addictive feeling you couldn't care less what your outfit was showing and whatnot.

Across the room, Nate was standing with his friends, as each held their cup, staring at the new girl. You.

" Fuck, who's that? " One groaned out while eyeing your body.

" Just some girl from Valley Torah High. " Nate's voice spoke as each of his friends turned to him with interest.

" Yo, Jacobs, you never told us about this one. You fucked her, right? " The same guy asked, waiting to hear confirmation. Nate looked at him quickly before, staring back at you.

" Ohhh! So where are the photos, we didn't see her yet. " Nate frowned at him, as the group of guys laughed.

" I didn't take any. " He admitted quickly. Meeting the guy's confused faces, he added. " Didn't have time. "

" I see. " The black-haired one said straightening himself up. " Well in that case we will make some. " He turned to the guy next to him, pulling out his phone and handing it to him, before deciding otherwise and giving his phone to Nate.

" I trust you will know better which angles to film. " With that, he started approaching you. Nate didn't even acknowledge the phone fully, his mind was kept on you.

The way you swayed to the song, dancing and turning. Nate had sex with you twice, firstly after meeting you at a party and the secondly when you accidentally found yourself in the same store. Expect that nothing else happened, you two barely ever talked, you knew your names but that was it.

Nate did make an effort to ask for your number, but with him getting together with Maddie once again, he didn't think of contacting you. He did, however, look at your social media, just enough to know which school you attended and who you hung out with.

Since he was on good terms with Maddie, who knows would you two ever interact again, if it wasn't for this night, that outfit, and Nate's friend.

As the guy was approaching you, Nate took the chance to look at your surroundings, seeing his girlfriend had spotted you. " Of course, she did, who fucking didn't? " He thought to himself while watching the stipes of your skirt reveal your cheeks.

The sight made him close his eyes for a second to regain his senses. The outfit was almost slutty, whorish, he thought, but yet it just made it harder for him to not start rubbing his pants.

Just before the man next to you could get to you, one of Nate's friends tried to call out to him. " Yo, you filmin' this? "

Without any hesitation, Nate dropped the damn phone, muttering under his breath " fuck this. " and fastly started making his way towards you.

His friends laughed a bit, at his reaction, waiting to see what was about to unfold. You were still in your own world when a black-haired guy spoke to you. " Hey- " not even properly starting his sentence before Nate go to him. He looked at him with a puzzled look on his face. " Thanks for borrowing me your phone, now you can go back for it, I left it with Caleb. " The taller guy said, composed and relaxed.

You stared at the two strangers, the taller one had a serious face as he spoke to the other one. " What are you talk- "

" Caleb has it. Your phone. " He cut him off, you tried to hear better what were they talking about as you leaned closer to them. The two of them just stared at each other, not matching their facial expression.

" Go. " The taller one almost whispered it to the other one's ear, who left only a second later. Just then you could recognise the man in front of you.

" Oh hey, you. Nate right? " He just nodded slowly, his eyes watching you lazily, his figure towering over you. You stared at him, awkwardly standing, feeling a bit uncomfortable since you were the only two people not dancing in the crowd.

" Come with me. " Nate said, walking away to the stairs. You followed before stopping in front of the stairs and calling after him. " For what? "

He turned to you, an annoying expression on his face, almost frustrated. " We both know why you are here, so you gonna come and get it or what? " You turned back to see Lea was drinking at the kitchen counter, before meeting your eye, you supposed she couldn't see Nate, but she knew what going upstairs meant, so with a jovial smile, she made a cheering gesture.

You laughed, acknowledging her excitement, and then followed Nate upstairs. He didn't look at the people that were there, he walked right passed them and into a room, that seemed almost fully prepared for this encounter to take place.

You went in after him, closing the door. " So you remember me? " He asked a rhetorical question. " Then you must remember what you were doing to me. " Your eyes glanced at him innocently, after all that dancing, you still felt a bit mischievous.

" I don't know Nate, am I suppose remember it? " He immediately came closer to you, almost fully, chest to chest. " You wanna play a game ha? "

" Is this what you came for? "

You preached up your lips as if you were thinking about it, locking up at him and seeing the tense position of his jaw. A lot took for you to not smile, since you knew the moment you looked down you would see how much more tension was held in his lower area. But, of course you couldn't resist to look. " Oh my. " You gasped, almost faking it. " Now I see what is stressing you out. "

Your hand automatically pushed itself on his bulge, making him bite into his lower lip. But before you could even react to that, he spun you around and pinned you on the wall. Now his covered dick almost went right into your hole, as he made the quietest groan ever.

As he held you in that position, his big hands began to rub in the inner of both of your thighs, the warmth it was creating made you push yourself into him completely out of reflex. He groaned into your ear, before sneaking one of his hands into your panties, only to rip them off you. His fingers immediately stuck themselves inside you, teasing each and every part viciously.

" Fuck, ah! " You moaned hard into the wall. He left his right hand to flick around your pussy and let his left hand reach your breasts. He easily got to them, as only the diamond stripes kept him from squeezing them firmly causing you to hiss out in a painful satisfaction.

" Fuck, yeah! Tell me how it feels. " Nate pushed his still-covered front into you, as his fingers played with your entrance, before entering into you once again.

" Oh, Nate! " You practically screamed out his name. " It feels so fucking good! " You couldn't help but drag yourself all over his pants, just wishing you could pull them down. However, your hands were more preoccupied with holding you against the wall.

" Imagine how good would it feel with my dick inside you. " At that, you whined mockingly, pushing your ass into him. This made his hand leave your pinched breasts as he smacked your ass, vividly leaving his handprint on it.

" A whore like you would, just love that, wouldn't you? " You nodded hard, making sure he had seen it. His left hand then once again made contact with your ass, slapping it to the point of full redness. His fingers still worked on you, as you felt your orgasm approaching. Nate noticed it, smirking before completely letting you go. He placed his hands on his pants, starting to pull them down. You turned to him, wishing to do it yourself, but were met with rejection.

" You better keep those hands on the fucking wall. You already fucked with me enough tonight, so I'm going to let you know how it feels. " You barely turned around, as he slipped his hard dick into you. The sudden thrust into you made you scream out in pleasure. Nate didn't even let you take a full breath in before he started pounding into you.

He thrusted more and more into you, groaning at the feeling. His hands held your hips as he fucked you. His eyes watched your ass bounce with all the diamond stripes. The diamonds glimmered and shook at each smack, creating a quite beautiful sight that was hard to look away from. It was mesmerizing him and he truly thought about how much he enjoyed this, having you against the wall, being completely at his mercy and command, he was becoming harder just thinking about it.

You hummed at his thrusts until Nate grabbed your neck and choked it." Be louder...can't hear you. " He said as he slammed his full length into you. " Mhm, I'm gonna cum! " You yelped out, squeezing his dick so perfectly. " Yeah, come on...fuck! " Nate encouraged smugly, stopping his rhyme just for a moment. " I want to see you cum on my dick. " He then slammed once again, strongly into you, as you shook helplessly.

" You wanted this all along. To get...fucked so well. And so...dirty! " Nate panted into your ear, biting on your earlobe, before relesing it. " Mhm, fuck...I like you this tight. And wet. " His left hand was left at your ass as his right one returned to your pussy. Fingers rubbing into you, before sliding in.

" Mhmm... " You moaned as tears started to come out of your eyes. " Yeah...come on! Come on my dick! " With just one merciless push into you, you released your juices all over him. Nate groaned at the feeling of wetness covering him, throwing his head back, before returning to fucking you.

" Nate! Ah! " You groaned, feeling his dick twitch. " Fuck, cum in me! " When you said it, almost breathlessly, he knew he couldn't keep going for long. It took a few more thrusts, before he too released his juices, pushing himself fully into you, back to back. He left breaths on your back, as you both calmed down and returned to your normal breathing pace.

Nate pulled his dick out of you, walked over to the bathroom, getting himself a towel and cleaning himself up.

" You still fuck good, Jacobs. I remember it. " Nate only smirked at your words, trying to not let it affect him too much. He took one towel and gave it to you to do the same.

" I still have your number. I might text you for another time. "

" We will see if you will. "

#nate jacobs #nate jacobs imagine #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs x y/n #nate jacobs x you #nate euphoria #nate jacobs smut #jacob elordi #euphoria imagine #euphoria #audreyemeralds #audrey emeralds

1K notes · View notes

anashins · 5 months

Text

Five Times a Day

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: angst, romance, smut

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: After Jaehyun's ex drops the fact that they have once done it five times a day, you are eager to keep this record up.

A/N: Retroactive jealousy is real and this is me processing this problem. Maybe some of you can relate - remember: We're in this together and are stronger than our insecurities!

You sipped on your smoothie, barely listening to your friends who were excitedly talking across each other. Under usual circumstances, you would have been able to enjoy this gathering among you girls, but today… not at all.

In fact, you were in a sulk. And it was all because of a guest from a past you had deemed forgotten already.

“By the way…” Said guest suddenly turned to you with a feigned, overly sweet smile. “How is Jaehyun?”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to look into the face of the girl who had just asked you this question. You had known she would eventually come up with this topic. After all, your boyfriend, Jaehyun, was her ex boyfriend. Justifiably his ex, though!

She had gone behind his back and cheated on him with his friend. It had been you who had mended his broken heart with no ulterior motives in the beginning, but after that cruel woman had moved away, it had evolved into something that the both of you had underestimated.

You had given him time, treated him with nothing other than patience and understanding, until one day, he had been able to move on with you who had no intention of hurting him in the same manner ever again.

“He’s perfectly fine, we’re so happy,” was your equally overly sweet reply.

Your best friend’s nudge into your side with her elbow pulled you out of your sulking attitude as she was silently begging you to get a grip of yourself. You just shrugged, reminding her that you had only tagged along because you were nosy and wanted to boast, and that you had no intention of being friendly. You just couldn’t have missed this opportunity to see how she was doing, no matter how much you resented her.

Jaehyun’s ex had been in your friend group back then and was now in the city for a few days, so everyone had accepted her invitation to meet up to reminisce about the old times - including you and your big ego. You slowly regretted it, even though you had only come to brag to her how much happier he was with you. It was just so exhausting to be fake-friendly.

But to prove to your best friend that you were ready to compromise, you added sharply with triumph in your voice, “We live together now.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for you!” the ex’s voice echoed through the café as she clapped into her hands. “I also have a new boyfriend with whom I live with!”

The other girls congratulated her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so as well. All you could think of was whether that guy was also a poor soul she would soon destroy. That was until she mentioned something else that only you could probably hear.

“Now that we live together, we do it like five times a day.” She chuckled, lowered her voice and leaned in to you. “Jaehyun has been able to do just as much. Say, does he still live up to it? You must for sure know.”

You resented her so much.

____

First

You woke up way before Jaehyun when the sun shone right into your face as you had forgotten to pull the curtains together the night before.

It was almost 7 in the morning, and soon, your alarm would go off so that you would only see each other again later that evening when you came back home from work. You were determined to beat the clock before that would happen.

With much caution, you lifted the blanket and crawled under the duvet to Jaehyun’s side of the bed. He only groaned when you accidentally leaned on his shin, but you were still able to settle on his legs under the blanket without waking him up fully.

You reached out your hand and stroked the small mound under his pajama bottoms. It didn’t take long for that mound to turn into a firm bulge and for Jaehyun to react to your stroking with his thighs moving against your palm.

You didn't know whether he was awake yet or not from under the covers, but you liked the thought of this exact uncertainty. To push this act further, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his bottoms and dragged the fabric downwards to the point where you could get a hold of his member and pull it out entirely.

Your fingers wrapped around Jaehyun’s length and you started moving them along his shaft until it stood nearly parallelly to his stomach. Sitting yourself up to be able to tug your own panties down, you shuffled forwards and guided his tip to your entrance.

When you slowly sank down onto him, you heard a loud moan from the other side of the blanket that was still covering you. Tight hands gripping onto your bum when you had taken him in fully, confirmed to you that your boyfriend was now awake - and ready for whatever was to come.

“Good morning,” you whispered, your head now peeking out from under the duvet.

Your boyfriend was still lying on his back with his eyes closed, but you still perceived his sensual and exciting expression as he licked over his lips and groggily fluttered his lids open.

With a grin, Jaehyun greeted you hoarsely, “‘morning.”

Your palms were placed flat onto his chest as the blanket slipped over your shoulders along your back and revealed your upper body that was only covered in your silken top. To Jaehyun, this was a sight he couldn’t get enough of, jolting him entirely awake now.

You put your weight on your forearms, just enough for you to lift your hips and come down at him again. Not much later, your moans filled the entire room, sunlight dancing across your skins on whichever part was currently in the right angle as you bobbed up and down on him.

Your back arched, your hair falling over your shoulder blades in long, silken streaks as the strands simultaneously moved to the rhythm you applied to Jaehyun’s groin. Not much later, your skin was glistening with sweat and you fell limply on your boyfriend’s chest as you had run out of strength.

Putting his arms around you, Jaehyun hurried you along until you bit into his shoulder to suppress your scream as you shook in his embrace. Shortly after, when you slowly calmed down, it was his turn. With his fingers entangled in your hair, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, faltering between every syllable as he came.

You had never doubted that Jaehyun loved you very much. You had been very sure that he loved you even more than when he was the happiest with his ex-girlfriend.

But now, you weren’t quite so sure anymore.

Not even when he took his time and risked being late to work just to cuddle with you in the aftermath.

____

Second

“What are you doing here?”

Jaehyun looked at you with very much surprise from across his desk when you closed the door behind you. You had visited him a few times at his workplace already, to bring him food or quickly say hello when you had been in the neighborhood - but never with such an intention.

The fabric of your trenchcoat felt cold on your skin as you wore nothing underneath other than the lingerie that you had actually wanted to save for your anniversary celebration. But until then, you had decided, you would buy a new set and use this one for this certain occasion.

Jaehyun couldn’t believe his eyes when you opened the coat’s belt across your waist and flashed him the sexiest set of red underwear that he had hopefully ever seen in his life. You physically watched his jaw drop and him taking off and then putting on again his glasses just to make sure that what he was currently witnessing was, indeed, real.

“Today is not my birthday, right?” You saw him gulp as his Adam’s apple moved along his neck, and you had to suppress a chuckle catching him so off guard. “Then I must be dreaming.”

“You’re not,” you answered and approached him in your heels that were also new. “Today is just your lucky day.”

“Then can every day be my lucky day?”

When you stood right in front of him after he had come forward from his seat, you let the trenchcoat slide down your shoulders, revealing the new bra fully, and your boyfriend couldn’t take his eyes off of you once again.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered before his head disappeared between your breasts. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then show me,” you challenged him. “Show me how much you want me. Right here and now.”

… and not her, you added silently in your mind, but pushed this intrusive thought right aside, because you wanted to live in this moment with Jaehyun and no one else.

“Very well,” he agreed and helped you take off the trenchcoat.

You were allowed to keep wearing your lingerie when Jaehyun grabbed you by your buttocks and placed your legs around either side of his hips just so that he could carry you. With one swift motion, he had turned you to his desk and kept you in place with one arm while the other reached out and threw everything in his reach from the desk onto the floor.

Then, he placed you on the surface and parted your thighs with his hips. The moment he loosened his tie was the moment you lost it too, because, once again, it hit you out of nowhere how perfect your boyfriend was and that you actually shouldn’t care who had been with before and what he had done with that person.

Jaehyun was all yours when he slipped his fingers into your lace panties and pushed them into you to collect the fluids inside of you as you had gotten so wet already. He was all yours, when he dragged his hand along your folds and caused you to shudder with this motion only as they reached your clit.

And he was also all yours when you couldn’t bear it for much longer and put your heels up on either side right on top of the desk to give him better access to enter you.

You were laying flat on the surface with your elbows propped up for support so that you could watch him thrust right into you. Jaehyun’s hair swung with each push and grew damp over time on the tips that touched his sweaty forehead. His fingers were still buried into your upper thighs so that no thrust would go astray, and when he looked up, you encountered this hungry look in his eyes.

He was long not done, and you only hoped that his short lunch break was enough for what he had still in store for you.

And as you were finally letting yourself go too, lying back down on the desk and moaning his name just loud enough to not to travel to the other offices, you wondered if he had done something like this before just by the way he knew what to do and how to enjoy it.

____

Third

You had set up a fancy dinner for Jaehyun later that evening. After having surprised him at his office, you had gone straight back to your own workplace and finished earlier to buy and prepare his favorite food.

By the time he was home, you had the appetizer and steak with side dishes ready, and even though you had been in a hurry to fix dinner, you were pretty impressed with how everything had turned out. After all, today, everything had to be perfect for this mission.

“Are you sure it’s not my birthday or another important date that I forgot about?”

Jaehyun raised a brow when he saw that you had set up the whole atmosphere with fancy crockery, cutlery and even lightened up candles. Usually, on weekdays, when you both had to work, you just threw something easy and light together and ate on the couch in front of the TV.

“Can’t I just do something nice for my boyfriend when I have the day off?”

“I mean… I’m not complaining. But this is the third nice thing you’re doing for me today. What did I do to deserve this?”

You put your hands around his neck and shook your head. “You’re just being you. Isn’t that enough.”

You got on your tiptoes to kiss him and were already looking forward to serving him dessert. And with “dessert” you didn’t mean ice cream or cake, because you had not prepared such. With “dessert” you meant having Jaehyun right under you at your mercy not even an hour later.

“Stop, stop!” Jaehyun breathed and stretched out his hand to gently lay it on the top of your head.

With a slurping sound, you let go of him and looked up to your boyfriend who was spread out on the couch underneath you.

“You don’t like it?” you worried, because Jaehyun actually never said no to getting head. Again, you wondered what you did wrong and if he had ever said no to his ex. You bet not.

He cupped your face and softly pulled you up to him so that you were now hovering over his chest. “That’s not what I mean,” he grinned and kissed your smudged lips. “You did so much for me today, let me do something for you too.”

Not much later, you were a writhing, whiny mess, legs locked between Jaehyun’s head while he licked you like you were his literal dessert after this feast. You had cum twice in a row already and were thinking that if he wouldn’t stop now, you wouldn’t have much energy for the real deal soon.

“Already out of breath?”

“Please… I just want you inside of me,” you begged.

“Very well.”

He took you on all fours from behind this time, fingers entangled in your hair and pulling you back every now and then to either kiss you or groan lewd words into your ear that made you blush slightly. In no way would one assume your boyfriend had this side to him if one were to meet him on the streets.

How lucky you were.

And other girls before that too, apparently.

But again, you pushed that thought aside when Jaehyun smacked your cheek and you let out a shriek that blended with your orgasm in the exact same moment. Pain and pleasure became indistinguishable, and that made it even more exciting as you experienced a high that only seldomly occurred.

When you laid with your sweaty bodies chest to chest, you came to the conclusion that it probably truly didn’t matter what had ever been before you when the present was so beautiful.

You didn’t want your insecurities to get the better of you, but your boyfriend was so perfect that you constantly wondered if one day, he would have enough of you if you couldn’t give the best like he deserved.

____

Fourth

“No.”

Your heart sank and you directly pulled your dressing gown close again. Underneath it, you wore a negligee that only rarely got put into use, but for the fourth time today, you wanted to present it to Jaehyun when he returned from the bathroom.

You only had two more times to go, you assumed you could get it done right now.

Your disappointment and shock were very visibly written all over your face though, and immediately, your boyfriend started to apologize.

“Look…” He seated himself next to you on the bed and looked at you with apologetic eyes. “Don’t beat yourself up over this! I really appreciate everything you did today, but it was a long day overall for me and I have to get up early again tomorrow. I just can’t keep up anymore today. It was great three times, but I’m physically at my end too and I really need to sleep soon.”

You didn’t want to say it. You truly didn’t. But your impulsive part had gotten the upper hand as all your feelings that you had been suppressing throughout the day boiled down to this one sentence,

“I bet you didn’t say that to your ex when you did it five times a day.”

For an unusually long time, Jaehyun stayed quiet and you feared that you had sabotaged your relationship at this point.

“I knew there was something up with you,” he eventually said. “You shouldn’t have gone to that gathering, even though the other girls are still friends with her.”

“But I did, because I’m nosy and foolish.” You paused. “Are you mad now?”

“Yes.” Your heart dropped, but before you could defend yourself, Jaehyun continued, “I’m mad because you have let her confuse and make you question our relationship based on… what?”

Ruefully, you confessed, “She said that you had sex five times a day.” You sensed how he repressed laughter that was deeper than usual, so he wasn’t making fun. “What is it? Is it not true?”

Honestly, perhaps you should have asked Jaehyun before reacting blindly out of impulse, because after all, this cheating girl was a liar. But sadly, he dismissed your glimpse of hope.

“We did.” Jaehyun’s head dropped at the same moment as your heart. “This is true.”

“Oh…”

You knew the person you should be angry at was yourself, not Jaehyun or his ex. You hadn’t been romantically involved at that time, it had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with you. But you couldn’t help but to compare yourself to her over and over again.

What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just switch this off? Why was there no button connected to your feelings?

Something warm suddenly touched your hand, and it was Jaehyun’s, taking yours into his. You didn’t dare to look up, that was how ashamed you felt for yourself.

“It was only one time,” he started calmly. “There was a snowstorm outside, so it was dangerous for her to go home. She stayed an entire day and night, that was when it happened. And do you know why it happened?”

You shrugged. You were unsure whether you actually wanted to know all the details to feed your insecurities even more.

“Don’t worry, the answer won’t be as you expect.” Jaehyun squeezed your hands and continued with a patient, tender tone, “The reason wasn’t because I found her more beautiful or hotter than you. Believe me, you are the only one for me. I cannot even look at other women and not think ‘Wow, I got the most beautiful girl out of all the girls in the world. She’s so perfect, I’m so lucky!’” Your cheeks were burning, but you kept listening diligently. “The reason was because we literally had nothing to talk about.”

Now, you lifted your head and faced your boyfriend who encouragingly smiled at you. He was sincere, you saw it clearly in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that whenever we spent so much time with each other, we never had something to talk about. We had absolutely no common interests or topics of which we felt the need to engage in. The only attraction we had was a physical one, so when we were forced to stay with each other so long, there was nothing else that we could do.”

Jaehyun let go of your fingers and wrapped his hands around your waist instead to pull you into his warm lap, and you let him.

"Absolutely nothing?” you wanted to make sure. This indeed surprised you.

He chuckled ironically. “Yes, absolutely nothing.”

“But we always talk non stop.”

“I know.” You felt his full lips pressing into your cheek and smiled. “We are not only physically connected, but emotionally as well. Isn’t that beautiful? Do you know how much that is worth and that some people seek for a connection like ours an entire lifetime? I enjoy physical contact with you just as much as our conversations and laughter. There is no need to fill a void, because there is none in the first place.”

You had never thought that Jaehyun felt like that and it touched your heart very deeply. “When I heard her saying this, I was worried you would soon be bored with me if I couldn’t keep up.”

“No, don’t ever think that!” Jaehyun drew you close to his chest and you laid your head on his shoulder. “Our love came unexpectedly for each of us, and I think we both had to learn that the right love was calm and steady, not these highs and lows with many fights. This is how it’s supposed to be, don’t let it make you feel unsure because you’re not used to it too. We’re here now, we shouldn’t look back.”

Hearing this from him set your mind at ease. It made many things better that were here temporarily, but you were also aware that in order to fight any doubts you were holding against your relationship, you had to fight your inner demons first.

It couldn’t be done in a day, but you would work hard, taking one step at a time and just believe in your boyfriend who assured you every day in many ways that his feelings were true and unwavering, no matter how big the demon had grown at this point.

“I love you, Jaehyun.”

“Of course I love you too.” He chuckled. “You make me laugh, you defend me, you fight me, you challenge me, and whenever I’m at my wit’s end, you bring me back to life. This is worth so much more and there is no one else I can ever imagine being with again. To me, you’re perfect.”

“Funny,” you whispered as you felt him pressing a kiss onto your parting. “I always think that about you too.”

There was no need for a fourth or fifth time.

#jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun fanfiction #nct #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct x you #nct x reader #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

2K notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 5 months

Text

Let Me Take Your Boat Card, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Rafe continues to make their Spring Break interesting with his bucket list item.

A/N: This was suggested by the lovely @mellillasstuff, who I love to talk about Drew Starkey with! I hope you like it, Babe. The gif is special for you.

Masterlist

They spent the day in Mykonos, Greece and now, the yacht is drifting to Turkey. Their last Spring break of their lives is coming to an end in a few days and Y/N and Rafe are trying to make the most of it. Rafe sees this trip as the perfect opportunity to fulfill a bucket list item for him. “Come on. Let me take your boat card, Angel,” he begs, walking over to her on the bed. She shakes her head with a giggle, “That isn’t a thing, Rafe. Plus, we literally had sex this morning on this boat, so if it was a thing, then you’ve already taken it.” “It’s not the same. It’s not boat sex unless it is on the top deck and out in the open,” Rafe argues. He jumps into bed with her, making the mattress bounce under both of them. Her hand finds his cheek, “What kind of weird fraternity shit are you making up, Rafe?” He kisses the palm of her hand. “It’s not a weird fraternity thing. It’s… it’s kinda a fantasy of mine. Making love to my angel under the stars in the middle of nowhere with the sound of the waves keeping us company. It’s just you and me.” She, of course, wants to help him achieve his fantasy and it honestly sounds so romantic, but she can’t shake the feeling of being caught by a crewmate.

“Rafe, as nice as that sounds, what if we get caught.”

“Don’t worry, Angel. We are the only ones on the boat. I got the crew to take a boat out to the land for the night. They’ll be back in the morning to take us to our next city. If you really don’t want to do it, then that’s okay but I just thought it would be fun.”

“I’m a little scared for our safety that no one can take drive the yacht, but I think it would be really fun too. I hope you have a captain’s hat because you are about to take my boat card.”

———

Y/N’s fingers graze the bottom of her dress, taking confident steps up the stairs. “Captain, how much longer until we reach port?” she calls out as innocently as she can. Rafe looks over his shoulder at her with a captain’s hat on his head, “A few more hours, Ms. Y/L/N. Is there something I can help you with?” Her arms swing from in front of her to behind and she walks towards him. “That’s so long… I don’t know how I’m going to fix my problem,” she laments, bringing her hand to play with her hair.

“Well, what’s your problem? Maybe I can help.”

“I don’t know… Captain. It’s kinda an intimate issue.”

“Come on, Angel. You can trust me. I’m the ship’s Captain.”

Her hands move up his chest, meeting around his neck. She grows impatient with this game and starts to unbutton his white shirt. “You’re restless tonight, Angel,” Rafe chuckles, bringing his hand to rest on her bum. She nods, “Very, something about that hat is doing something to me.” “Wow. Never thought my angel would be turned on by a man in uniform,” he teases. His hand moves up her bum to untie the bow of her dress while she begins peppering his bare chest with kisses. His fingers lace through her hair, pulling her back from his skin. They look at each other with a grin. “I can’t keep playing this game anymore, Captain. I just need to feel you,” she mutters. He brings his lips to hers and pulls her dress off of her body, “Me either.” Once the cool ocean breeze meets her skin, Rafe walks her backwards toward the couch. The back of her knee meets the cool leather and she lies down with him on top of her.

He kisses her on the lips, moving his hand down the valley of her breast to the top of her underwear. He grins to himself when he sees the moon glint off of his Greek letters that have been resting between her boobs since their sophomore year. A finger delicately lifts the fabric and continues its descent until it meets the wetness of her pussy. “Is this all for Captain Rafe, Angel?” She nods her head, itching for him to keep going. “Nuh-uh. Angel, you know I like it when you use words,” he tsks and removes his hand from where she needs it.

“Captain, please. Touch me,” she begs, grabbing his wrist to bring his touch back. He growls at her words, “Enough of this Captain shit. I want you to be screaming my name to the sea, Angel.” He takes the bill of his hand in his hand and throws it somewhere on the deck without another thought. It’s one of the reasons she doesn’t have a nickname for him. It wasn’t for lack of trying when they first started to date. Rafe is so possessive of her that the thought of her calling him anything other than his name drives him to become the green-eyed monster. He pulls down her underwear and throws it with his hat, getting to work on making her feel good. His head buries between her legs, lapping up the mess he created. “Oh god, Rafe. This feels so good,” she moans at her normal level. Rafe always encouraged her to be as loud as possible, teaching her to not care about the other frat brothers, who might hear her sweet melody.

“Angel, you can be louder. There is no one around,” he reasons. She listens to his words and screams as loud as she can to please him. His mouth works on her clit as his fingers enter her hole. They curl to hit her G-spot and she tugs at his hair to get him to keep going. He quickly moves his fingers in and out of her. With every move of his finger, it brings her closer to her orgasm. Her fingers pull at the root of his hair and that’s how he knows she is about to cum. He pulls his fingers out of her, causing a whine to leave her lips. “Nope. Sorry, Angel. You are coming around my dick tonight,” he informs.

He stands up to pull off his shirt and his hand removes his belt in one fluid motion, which always makes Y/N’s thighs clench together. She sits up to help him take off the rest of his clothes and he lets her. She sinks to her knees in front of him, butt hitting the couch cushion. Her hands begin to pump his length. Saliva pools in her mouth, so she can spit it onto his dick. She slides her hand up and down his dick, listening to his groans. “You are doing so good, Angel,” he praises. His hand finds the back of her head and pushes her onto him. She takes him into her mouth, letting him hit the back of her throat. A hand remains at the base to pump what isn’t going in her mouth. She pulls herself off of him, so she can circle her tongue around his tip. She can taste his pre-cum. He decides he is hard enough for her and brings her back up so she is facing him. He lies her down on the couch again, kissing her lips. The mixture of their juices makes both of them want to moan.

She watches as he brings a hand down to his cock to bring the tip to her vagina. He enters her inch by inch to let her have time to adjust. He has no more to offer her and waits for her to tell him to begin his thrust. “Please start, Rafe,” she states, bringing her forehead to his. His hips move back so just the tip is still inside of her and then eases them back down to meet the top of her pelvic bone. They normally like their sex fast and hard, but the moment felt right for something slower. He repeats the motion, enjoying the way her arms round his back to mark it up.

She may be his angel, but she has nails like the devil. He can feel the dig of her nails as she drags it down his back in an attempt to bring him closer. Being chest-to-chest with him doesn’t feel like enough to her, so she rounds her legs around his waist and helps meet his thrusts. It feels like the sounds of the skin slapping against each other and their groans echo out to the sea, yet she knows it is all in her head. She brings his hips in faster during his next thrust with her feet. He gets the message and deepens his thrust, feeling the way she begins to cling to him as she does. With her walls squeezing him, he knows he isn’t going to last long. Determined to make her climax first, he brings his hand down to her bud and starts to rub it in a circle. Y/N’s orgasm washes over her with his help. The feeling of her cumming around him causes him to twitch his seeds into her. He continues his gentle thrusts to ride out their high, stilling once they are both done.

He slips out of her and lies beside her. She turns to face him, bringing his arms over her. He tightens his hold on her and gives her a kiss to the temple. “I don’t think roleplay is for us,” he observes, thinking back to how they didn’t last very long in the charade. She giggles with a nod of her head, “Yeah. I’m too impatient and you are too possessive to let me call you anything else other than your name. But I’m glad you convinced me to do this. I enjoyed giving each other our boat cards.”

“I hate to have to tell you this, Angel. But I don’t have my boat card.”

“Wait, if I’m not taking your boat card, does that mean you’ve done this before?”

“I’m from the Outer Banks, Angel. What do you think?

Taglist: @loves0phelia

1K notes · View notes

feyascorner · 3 months

Text

9 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. Rather than taking offense, he merely smiles. “You’re so harsh, love.”

“I wouldn’t be harsh if you didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m aware.” His voice lowers. “Though I rather like it when you’re cruel to me.”

You blink.

Has he always looked at you like this?

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. officially in act 2 so there's like a few weeks of a timeskip!!!! finally getting to that blurry line between hatred and...wtv they are

also praying the tags work this time

“Wake up,” you whisper. “Wake up, Astarion.”

His body shakes as you pull him closer to your chest, ignoring how cold his skin feels against yours. There’s nothing out here except the two of you and the blissful gaze of the moon glimmering against all the other stars in the sky. Here, it’s as if nothing else exists.

Yet, the nightmares continue to haunt him.

“Cazador, he’ll come for us. He’ll come for you. He’ll make me watch as you die and laugh at my agony before he tosses me into that damned prison again for another year. Maybe even more,” he rasps. “Gods, you were so–there was so much blood—your blood—and all I could smell was–”

You shush him, running your hand through white curls. The sensation seems to calm him just the slightest. “He’s not here. I’m alive, and so are you. See?”

Gently, you raise his palm to where your heart rests and wait patiently for him to come back to you again. He melts into the steady thumping of your heart, shoulders slowly relaxing. It takes some time, but eventually, his panting slows, and he slumps into your touch. When you pull him close again, he shakes his head.

“I’ll kill him for what he’s done to me and what he could do to you.”

You answer him by intertwining your fingers with his own. In response, he tightens his arms around your waist.

“I’m going to love watching him scream.”

Crashing onto the ground does little for your already trembling knees.

“Again.”

Weeks have passed since your last uncomfortable encounter with Astarion, and you’d much prefer to keep it that way. And while things have mostly smoothed over with your companions, the obvious issue of the spawn remains a concern, though the murders have decreased significantly in passing times. You’re grateful there aren’t as many bodies, but it also makes you wonder what’s preventing them from killing as many as they did. Fear it, even.

Lae’zel’s wooden sword wipes you off your feet again, and you land face-first into the grass. Embarrassment floods your cheeks despite there being nobody else in the park.

“You’ve gotten rusty, istik.”

Clambering onto your knees, you grip your own sword to stabilize yourself. “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s gotten significantly better?”

“Flattery won’t save you on a battlefield, bard.”

“‘Was-bard,’” you correct her, using the sword to bounce back onto your heels. “And I think it’s saved us more than a few times. Remember that time I persuaded Yurgir to kill all his friends before we killed him?”

“A silver tongue has no use if the enemy is deaf,” she lunges at you, and you barely manage to stumble out of the way.

You hiss. “Why the hell would I be fighting a deaf enemy? And can you please warn me before you try to stab me?”

“There are no warnings in a real battle.”

“We’re not in real battle!”

She ignores you and lunges once more without warning.

You land on your ass again and again until you’re sure there’s a nasty bruise on half of your legs. There’s not enough time to register the soreness spreading to your knees, however, because by the time you’re up, she’s already coming at you again. It’s hopeless, you think, blocking another attack. Just as you’re about to give up and admit defeat, you see an opportunity in her stance. Seemingly laid back with how miserably you’re failing, you take it as a weakness and practically pounce at the opportunity to launch at her in return for your own bruises.

By some miracle, it lands.

She doesn’t fall as pathetically as you did, but she stumbles.

“Have you lost your touch, Lae’zel?”

You whip your head around to the voice where Shadowheart is under the shade of a tree, a letter gripped in her fingers. She paces closer to you and your opponent, raising a brow at the state you’re in. “Was it really necessary to beat them so harshly?”

“It worked, didn’t it? They managed to hit me,” Lae’zel scoffs, a hint of pride in her tone.

“Well, as wonderful of a time it is to watch you fight one another like beasts,” Shadowheart rolls her eyes, lifting the letter. “Tav and I need to get new clothes tailored, it seems.”

Lae’zel snatches the letter before you can take a look, her eyes scanning over the words before shooting to you. “A celebration?”

“A ball, more like,” the cleric steals the sheet right back, handing it to you. “In our honor, of course, for defeating the elder brain. About time we received something in return.”

You only briefly glance at the words printed on the letter. “This is too much.”

Both heads turn to you inquisitively. “I thought you’d be ecstatic for something like this. I recall you always used to sing about the songs people would make about your adventures.”

“That was ages ago,” you sigh, but Lae’zel doesn’t seem much happier either.

“They choose to celebrate while the city’s citizens are being picked off like prey by spawn? No wonder its inhabitants have turned out so puny,” she glances at you while she speaks. You contemplate rolling your eyes, though you’d rather not get knocked on your ass again.

“You and Gale can go tomorrow. I made reservations at the tailor for all of us, but Figaro says he can only take two a day,” Shadowheart tells Lae’zel. “You wouldn’t mind if I took your punching bag for a few hours, would you?”

“Tchk. I have the wizard as another target if need be.”

She tosses her braid over her shoulder as she nods. “Great. Let’s hurry then.”

They don’t give you much room to protest in the matter, already having made up their minds—not that you were going to object in the first place. You’re honored, really, that the city finds you impressive enough to throw a celebration in your honor, and you know your companions are more than deserving of it, too. But it’s as Lae’zel said.

There’s another battle brewing under the city, in its shadows, and in plain sight, yet you can’t do anything about it. It’s not like the elder brain. Killing the brain itself was enough to rid of the mind flayers, but in this case, killing one spawn only leads to hunting 7000 more. Most of which are being lied to by Astarion’s siblings.

You shake your head to rid of the thoughts. No. You deserve this. You went through hell and back with that bloody parasite in your head, so hells be damned if you can have one bloody night to yourself. One that doesn’t consist of consistently worrying about whether another body will drop dead while you sleep blissfully in the walls of your own home. You need this after all you’ve been through.

Still…

The silence as you walk alongside Shadowheart makes you cringe.

It’s not like she’s angry at you, nor are you at her. You understand her reactions toward Astarion, and you like to think that she does too. But with how things ended with him last time, your interactions with the cleric have grown increasingly curt, with short conversations baring down to the bare necessities. You’ve tried to speak with her, but each time the two of you are alone, the guilt gnaws away at your stomach—your confidence along with it.

This time, you swear. This time you’ll apologize.

“Shadowhea-”

“I shouldn’t have done it.”

You blink. Twice.

She doesn’t look at you, continuing to stride through the city streets. “It was unfair of me to blow up at you for letting Astarion feed. It wasn’t my choice, and I know that. I was only…”

You wait for her to continue, increasing the speed of your footsteps to catch up.

“...It was a selfish reason,” she mutters. “I did not want to lose you to him again. I’ve seen you the last time he hurt you, and you were practically a stranger to all of us. Even with defeating the elder brain, you didn’t seem happy in the slightest. He ruined so much that I—-I instinctively tried to make a decision that I have no control over.”

“It won’t happen again. Lying, I mean,” you blurt immediately. “I’ve learned, as hard as it might be to believe. I don’t want to drift from you again, either. I’m just sorry it took so long to bring this up.”

“I’m in no place to complain. It took weeks for me to understand how in the hells your thought process seems to work…And how you manage to make such bad decisions that somehow have a knack for working out,” she purses her lips. “I still don’t understand. Not completely. But I do also trust you know what you’re doing.”

You don’t know what you’re doing, but you think it’s better to avoid telling her that.

She smiles, and you already feel lighter. “It’s a miracle I’m alive, to be honest.”

“It really is. Trust me, I’d know,” she snorts in return.

“I do have quite the skilled healer at my side, which helps.”

Shadowheart stops in front of Figaro’s store, glancing back at you. You hadn’t even realized the two of you had walked this far, but she shrugs with a smug grin as she pushes through the door.

“Whatever would you do without me?”

You’ve searched the Blushing Mermaid at least a dozen times over now, in case you missed any of Dalyria’s things that might aid you in your search for the other siblings. Despite the tavern owners blocking the entrance, a simple mage hand or two was enough to pry open the wooden boards nailed to the basement door. It’s been nearly three times now that you’ve come up empty-handed, but what harm could a fourth try do? Sure, you’ve scrummaged her desk seven times alone, but perhaps you might have missed a drawer or two…

The stillness of the night is disturbed as you lift the hatch leading to the basement, waving away the dust that flies into your face. You pocket Dalyria’s journal and begin your descent downward. The humidity hits your cheeks, and you sigh, swallowing your distaste for the crumbling lair to resume your investigation without any distractions. You expect another endless night of useless rummaging through the Hag’s old things and some of Dalyria’s own belongings, but doing nothing would weigh too heavily on your conscious.

Just as you enter the actual lair, you find that you are not alone.

A blond man stands on the other side, his back turned to you as he searches the desk you’ve already looked over multiple times.

Petras.

Sure, you’ve been searching for him for quite a while now, but for him to just waltz into you like this? You’re not sure if you’re insanely lucky or simply unlucky for not having stumbled into him until now. He remains unaware of your presence, and you take the opportunity to reach for your knife, willing your footsteps to feel lighter to avoid detection. Another skill a certain rogue taught you at a certain point, but never mind that.

The floorboard creaks under your weight.

Dammit. You’ve never been as good as he was.

He whips around, immediately on the defense. But as soon as he spots you, his shoulder relaxes, a scowl falling as he blinks. “Oh. You.”

Embarrassment burns in your cheeks, feeling like a child who’s been caught stealing an extra sweet from the cookie jar. Still, you straighten your back, shifting so he can’t see the knife clenched in your hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering when I’d see Astarion’s pet again,” he ignores your question, stepping away from the desk toward you. It makes your body tense. “You’ve been up to quite a lot since the last time we spoke, haven’t you? I hear you nearly captured my sister.”

“I’m not his pet,” you snap, more harshly than you intended. He raises a brow.

“Fine. His blood bank.”

Your sharp glare is enough to send him your sentiments.

“Not a very willing blood bank, I see.”

“What are you doing here, Petras?” you finally snap.

He ignores you again, and this time, you contemplate chucking the knife at his head. “How’s my brother doing? Horrible, I hope.”

“He’s fine,” you retort through gritted teeth. It’s the nicest thing you can conjure up at the moment. “We would be doing better if you weren’t making a bloodbath of the city.”

“You nearly killed my sister as well.”

“Your sister is the one that attacked us after she said she was going to kidnap Astarion like he’s some sort of object. What was I supposed to do?”

“Well, I can’t blame you. She’s always been stubborn,” he shrugs. “But I am disappointed you chose to take my brother’s side after all he’s done to you. I would pity you, really, if you hadn’t gone and killed almost four of us already.”

“You can’t blame me for self-defense.”

Petras frowns. “Tell me, why didn’t you take our deal?”

“What?”

He paces a few steps toward you, standing at the platform of the lair while you stare up at him in bewilderment. “We’ve been watching you for an extended period of time now. We offered you everything you could possibly gain from a deal like this one, and you still rejected it. You’d get rid of us and keep the city safe. All the while, you’d never have to see my brother again. Dalyria says it barely seemed to phase you. I want to know why.”

“It’s—” you trip over your own tongue. You don’t even know why you feel obligated to answer him. “It just felt right at the time.”

“What kind of half-baked answer is that?”

“I answered your question, didn't I? Now answer mine.”

Petras furrows his brows, glancing at Dalyria’s desk behind him. “I take it you know what we plan to do?”

You purse your lips, and it’s enough of an answer for him.

“I wanted to take Astarion by force, personally. But Leon and Dalyria…they’ve grown considerably soft after Cazador left,” he rolls his eyes at the thought, crossing his arms. “...A shame. That kind of fragility won’t get them anywhere in this world. Those fools are destined to die or to live at the bottom of the barrel, forever feeding on city rats.”

The way he speaks of his siblings makes your stomach churn.

“You’re a bigger fool if you think I’m going to let you go through with the ascension,” you hiss. “You’ll kill all those spawns. They’ve put their trust in you to lead them, and you’re lying straight to their faces as if their lives aren’t worth the crap on your shoes–”

“And how did things turn out the last time you tried to stop the ascension?”

This makes your throat go dry.

“Take this as our last warning, bard. Or else we’ll come and take him ourselves.”

“He’s your brother,” you blurt in exasperation, waving your hand in disbelief. “You can’t possibly want to kill him, even if he’s an asshole from time to time! Cazador is gone. You’re free! There’s nothing else to run away from!”

You don’t know why you’re defending him.

But it pours out of your chest, and you already know trying to choke it back up won’t reverse what’s already been said.

With your words seemingly going in one ear and out the other, Petras clenches his fist at his side and glowers down at you with a sharp inhale. Despite his attempts to appear composed, you can see the vein bulging from his forehead, threatening to burst if you push him any longer. “He stopped being my brother the second he tried to ascend.”

“Still—”

“He attempted to kill the rest of us for the sake of his own wellbeing. What makes him any different than Cazador himself?” he argues. “Cazador always took a special interest in Astarion. I see now that it’s because they’re so similar. In life or in death.”

For some strange reason, this makes your blood burn.

You can hear Astarion’s gasps as his master��s nightmarish toll awoke you both on those starry nights when the parasite still swam in your heads. How cold he’d felt in your arms, rasping into your chest as you calmed him. White curls brushed against your hand as you pulled him close. You’ve never wished to the gods for much, but in that moment, you begged them to let him forget. To give you something—anything—to soothe the trembling of his hands.

Astarion could have been like Cazador. He’d come dangerously close to becoming the very monster that tortured him for centuries, but he hadn’t. Whether it was voluntary or not, it doesn’t matter because, at the end of the day, he isn’t Cazador. And you plan to keep it that way as long as your fingers can still clutch your blade.

“I was planning on paying you a visit,” Petras says, catching your attention once more as he slips out a scroll from his sleeve. “Though I suppose you’ve made this easier on the both of us…especially if you die here.”

You take a step toward him, heels digging into the ground. “If you think I’ll just—”

“If you’ll only get in my way, then I have no problem with watching you perish.”

With a shout, the scroll glows a lime green, and a long groan echoes from the bodies scattered throughout the room.

Shit.

The spawn adjusts his hood back around his head, sparing you a pitiful stare. “You’ve chosen your side, and it's the one that's destined to lose. Good luck, bard…I hope your death isn’t as painful as it could have been at Astarion’s hands.”

And just as the undead begins to crawl toward you with an agonizing screech, he puffs up into a cloud of red smoke and vanishes.

You need a bath. Terribly.

Barely scraping out with your life, you can’t say you’re a pleasing person to look at with the dirt and blood smeared across your body. The sleeve of your shirt is torn open, and while a few healing potions have done the trick to heal most of your injuries, the more minor splits and cuts remain an insistent reminder of the war you’ve just declared with the vampire spawns.

Well, they’re the ones who declared it, but the point stands.

You manage to wash out a lot of the blood by the time you return home, praying your disheveled state can’t be seen with the effort you’ve put in to look presentable. Your worries are put to rest, however, when you realize just how late it’s gotten into the night, as all your companions remain blissfully asleep as you limp into the house, barely able to stand upright.

Everything is a blur. How you managed to fight off a dozen undead is a mystery to you, but it’s not unwelcome. At least there’s nobody here to scold you.

But even that, you realize, is a false sense of security when you sense him from the stairs. You’ve learned not to anticipate any creak in the floorboard when he’s the one pacing on them. Rather, you’ve learned to expect a concerning bloodthirsty presence and two eyes boring into the back of your head as if you’ve grown another head. It eventually becomes easy to sense his aura even from across the living room.

You hope the darkness conceals the bruises on your body. “What do you want?”

“You’re bleeding again,” he says, and it’s not a question. “I could smell it from upstairs.”

A scoff. “What are you? A dog?”

Astarion doesn’t bother responding to your snide comment, coming closer. You can finally see his expression in a daze as he approaches your vicinity. He’s present, but not really, as his focus shifts from you to your hand to your face again repeatedly as if he’s unsure what he’s even doing here.

You’d recognize his mannerisms anywhere.

“Are you drunk?”

“I recall you saying you were visiting the tavern.”

“I was at the tavern.”

He barks a laugh. “My dear, you can tell as many pretty lies to the others but not to me. I can see right through your little game like an open book.”

Curse him.

“I asked you a question first,” you opt to change the subject, remaining firm. “How much did you drink?”

“I didn’t break any rules, as far as I’m aware,” his words slur messily as he leans against the wall, a pink hue spread across his cheeks. “I just drank…a tiny bit more than usual.”

He’s most undoubtedly tipsy, at the very least.

Astarion pushes himself off the wall and toward you, where he squints down at you with what you assume to be some variation of curiosity. His eyes do not hold the usual hostility they usually do, somewhat clouded in a mist of relaxation that’s dangerously close to overflowing. You inch backward.

“Your turn,” he breathes. “Why are you bleeding?”

While you were out risking your life, the bastard must’ve been having the time of his life if the unsteadiness of his steps is any indication. You bite the inside of your cheek bitterly.

“I met Petras just now…more like ambushed, actually,” you respond, pacing the kitchen to wipe off the dirt staining your elbows. You pour yourself a glass of water, but the second it touches your lips, you flinch, the split on your lip still too new to be challenged. So, instead, you set the glass down, eyeing the way he mindlessly stares at you without a thought running through his mind.

Still, he’s giddier than usual, snorting at the state you’re in. “You couldn’t have possibly lost to my brother. He has muscle but barely any wit.”

You remain silent, and his smile grows wider. “Oh! You really let the bastard get away. Well, isn’t this a surprise! Excuse my error; perhaps you aren’t as invincible as I pegged you to be.”

“He caught me off guard.” Hot discomfort courses through your veins.

“Pish posh,” he waves you off, teetering in your direction. “It’s no good if you refuse to admit defeat, my dear. It’ll come back to bite you in the behind later.”

You watch with half-lidded eyes, unmoving from your spot beside the counter as he scrummages around the cabinets for nothing other than the very substance that’s reduced him to this pitiful state. Ironic, you know, considering the tavern had practically been your home only a few months prior. “How did you even get drunk? There isn’t nearly enough blood here for that.”

His face brightens when he finds what he’s been searching for. He uncorks the glass bottle and inhales the stench of blood. While it makes you scrunch your nose, he sighs dreamily, shoulder going slack. “Gale accompanied my hunt again, and I managed to find not one but two bloody bears. One of which was oh so gratefully already wounded. You can be smart when you want to be; I’m sure you can imagine the rest.”

You don’t want to imagine it, actually.

“I think you’ve had enough,” you pluck the bottle from his hands, and his expression immediately falls. He almost looks like a kicked puppy. It makes your chest swell with pride.

“Why? Would you rather I drink from you?” he tries to reach for it, but you step out of the way. “As enticing as that sounds, I’ve already had my fill of exotic blood for tonight. All I need is the dessert to top off the feast I’ve had, and I’ll be satiated for at least a few days.”

You glare at him. “You’re already drunk, you don’t need anymore.”

“But I want more,” he slurs again, and you attempt to move the bottle behind your back, but his hand is already expecting this maneuver. With embarrassing ease, the bottle slips into his grasp, and he takes a long sip of blood while forgetting how you remain caged against the counter, arms blocking any sort of exit you can take to slip away.

You can count his eyelashes from this distance.

He lifts his hand to wipe at his mouth, and much to your relief, you manage to escape the suffocating feeling of being surrounded by him. His scent, his voice, just everything. You close your fists, itching to retreat into the comforts of your own bedroom rather than continue to watch his focus zone in and out until narrowing down on you. “Are you done?”

“Mm, it’s sweet, but not sweet enough. It’s not quite a dessert, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t even like sweet things,” you scoff. You don’t know why you remember this. You shouldn’t remember this. It’s not even your concern anymore.

He stares at you. “I make exceptions.”

Unwillingly to figure out the implications of his words (and whether or not it comes off as a threat), you run a hand through your hair and sigh. “Petras seems hell-bent on kidnapping you.”

“Let him try. The poor fool wouldn’t stand a chance against any of us, much less all of us simultaneously. At least it’ll make for quite a show.”

“And let him kill more people in the process?”

Astarion tilts his head, albeit only slightly. He lacks the usual polish of his charm. “Ah, we couldn’t dare allow a few unlucky souls to perish. It’s not like the inevitable fate of death is waiting for them anyway.”

Sarcasm dripping from his tongue, you decide he’s not nearly sober enough to talk about this. He’s barely keeping himself upright with his arms perched on either side of the counter. He’s close enough that the scent of blood muddles all of your other senses. The softness in his eyes makes you squirm, and the small voice in your head that is your intuition screams for you to get away before…well, you’re not sure what, but it’s what it’s telling you.

“Go to bed,” you order him, though it sounds more like a plea. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“The night’s only begun, though.”

The answer spews out immediately. “I miss to see where that’s my problem.”

Rather than taking offense, he merely smiles. “You’re so harsh to me, love.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the nickname catches you off guard. It’s one he hasn’t called you since…everything. One that you’ve learned to bury into whatever corner you can find in your memories, hoping never to see them again. For a split moment, you can feel your resolve falter. Still, you refuse to show him what a simple word does to you and steel your will to leave this for a proper time when you’re both not nearly delirious. One from blood and the other from a battle.

“I wouldn’t be harsh if you didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m aware.” His voice lowers. “Though I rather like it when you’re cruel to me.”

You blink.

Has he always looked at you like this?

He’s not just drunk, you reason. He’s completely wasted.

“Astarion,” you lean away. “You’re drunk.”

He ignores your warnings with a click of his tongue. “My mind is clearer than it's ever been after I got that damn parasite out of my head.”

His delirious expression says otherwise.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh irritably. “Whatever game you’re playing, I want none of it. I’m tired, so just leave me be, will you? Get out of my way.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“You’re the one blocking me from leaving!” you fume, pointing at his arm.

“That’s not what I mean. You’re…” he sighs, dropping his head wearily. “…you’re no different than that parasite, come to think of it.”

Appalled, you just gawk at him, jaw agape. “Please tell me I did not just hear you say that.”

He laughs, throwing his head back as he straightens his back. His arms fall back to his side, providing you just enough space to squeeze out of the way, but you find yourself staring up at him as he recollects himself. “It’s rather frustrating. I suppose, at the very least, unlike that worm, you’re a pretty thing to look at.”

What in the hells is going on?

First, he calls you a parasite and then proceeds to flatter you barely two seconds later, having nothing but hazy blurs in that thick skull of his. You wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to kill you again next. In fact, you think it’s probably best to retreat now when you can—even if he’s gazing down at you as if he expects an answer to his previous statement.

You should leave.

Your legs remain rooted in place.

You should definitely leave.

“Call me that again, and I’ll install bars on your windows,” you grumble, only half meaning it. Mainly because it would be a hassle to build. “Just go, Astarion. I don’t want to speak with you.”

“Convince me.”

You quirk a brow. “What?”

“Convince me that you don’t want me here,” he says firmly. “Then I’ll leave.”

Gods, has he lost it?

“Are you serious?”

“Am I ever not? I may deceive you, but I always take you seriously. You must know this.”

Barely stopping yourself from punching that smug smile off his face, your brows furrow. And with gritted teeth, you hiss. “Well, for one, you stink of blood.”

“What a pleasant fragrance indeed.”

“Two,” you continue. “You’re barely standing on both feet, which tells me you aren’t in any position to discuss what I want to right now—which, by the way, is your own damn brother.”

He hums.

“Three, you’re an asshole.”

“Very convincing, darling.”

“So I’ve heard,” you snap, rolling your eyes. “Do I need to say more?”

Astarion steps closer, making your shoulders tense. “Tell me more about how I’m an asshole.”

The blood he drank must contain some sort of drug, surely.

“You leave bottles all over the living room,” you begin, and slowly, the words begin to spill out as if they’ve been waiting to be thrown at him for a while now. “You don’t help clean at all. You make jokes only you find funny. You fight with Shadowheart all the time, and it makes everyone uncomfortable. You walk around at three in the morning and scare the crap out of me just because I wanted some water.”

He nods. “Go on.”

“You’re always sneaking out, even though we tell you not to. You don’t even tell us where you’re going and then get surprised when Lae’zel wants to execute you again! You come home at bizarre times, and the hallway smells like blood all the time, and—and—-” You’re rambling now, you realize, but you’re too exhausted to give a rat’s ass about it. So instead, you push a finger into his chest pointedly, scowling. “---you’re just not pleasant to be around. You’re the biggest asshole I’ve met, and trust me when I’ve met a lot of assholes. I’d rather all of them than you.”

Astarion’s lashes flutter as his gaze flits across your face. “Is that so?”

With narrowed eyes, your fists tighten. “Hells, I don’t even know why I’m here with you because I should’ve been at the tavern sleeping with some other random bastard by now if your damn brother didn’t-”

Suddenly, the breath in your lungs is knocked out as the back of your hips bumps against the counter, knocking over your glass of water.

Before you can discern whatever emotions are being evoked by his lack of awareness, the already minimal distance between the two of you closes as he smashes his lips against yours. It’s harsh. Fueled by hatred, it’s by no means a pleasant show of affection. It burns, sending sparks throughout your entire body as you sink into his touch, feeling the full force of the smallest of movements; he seems dangerously close to what you might describe as desperate.

Unable to fully process what’s happening, you only stand there, stock still.

Your eyes might fall out of its sockets with how wide they are.

He’s kissing you.

Astarion is kissing you.

And instinctively, your body, if for a split moment, kisses back.

What. The. Fuck.

Thankfully, you’re quick to realize what’s happening, and you abruptly shove him away, stumbling in the process. It seems he’s sobered up on his end because he appears just as shocked as you are, the blood staining his pretty lips being the only proof that the kiss did indeed happen. He blinks rapidly, first trying to take in your expression. You don’t think you’ve seen him this lost in ages. But that's not your concern right now.

He starts. “Darling, I–”

Your fist punches into his stomach, and he reels.

Tags: @ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova @madislayyy @lordfishflakes @nicalysm @djarinsway @tinystarfishgalaxy @brainz00 @hopeful-n-sad @ohdeerieme @madisban @chrismarium @chonkercatto @fanfic-share @bitterbeanren @sleepyred1703 @miskouly @ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc @whisperingwillowxox @bdudette @misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm @divineknightmare @bangtanbecks @carolinelec @aelieknox @bluelovesleep @catching-fire-in-the-wind @moonlight-stay @thatbeanieboss @atotalmess-lol @lavender-romancer

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #feyascorner #bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion fanfic #bg3 companions

524 notes · View notes

augustinewrites · 4 months

Text

[twenty-two minutes to midnight]

hange zoe is a special brand of stupid.

at least that’s what levi thinks as his friend says, stupidly, “if neither of us are kissing anyone at midnight, i guess i’ll have to kiss you, levi.”

levi ackerman makes it his special mission to be as far as possible from his friend before the clock strikes 12. when it comes to hange, his ever-scowling lips are for critical judgment and insults only.

“pass,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes when they pout at him.

“but what about all those times you asked me how to—”

“this conversation is over,” he deadpans, emphasizing his point by walking away.

but levi has learned long ago that there’s no walking away from hange. they drags themselves up and away from the table to follow, throwing a heavy arm around his shoulders. “why not though? are you planning on kissing someone else tonight?”

their tone is teasing, but their eyes give them away. hange’s fishing for a specific answer.

“no,” he answers much too quickly to be nonchalant.

his friend just smirks. “she’s here, you know. erwin said she just got back a few weeks ago.”

“i had no idea.” (he already knew.)

“she’s still single.”

“i don’t care.” (he might care.)

they hum thoughtfully. “so you wouldn’t mind if i kissed her instead?”

levi doesn’t answer this time, shoving his friend’s arm off his shoulder and trying to disappear into the party.

erwin’s parties were always too big, in his opinion. he packed his penthouse apartment to the brim, and how anyone had this many friends, he had no idea. at least the sheer amount of people would allow him the opportunity to slip away, maybe hide in some quiet corner wearing a scowl that could repel the bravest souls.

(and if he hides, there’s no way he’ll run into you, right?)

[twelve minutes to midnight]

by merely thinking of you, levi’s mother would probably say he was tempting fate. his mother was almost always right, loathe as he was to admit it.

because, yeah, it’s barely twenty minutes later when he spots you across the room, sipping champagne while chatting with miche and hange.

you have your back to him, but he knows that it’s you. it’s instinct— the way his eyes linger down the familiar shape of your body. he traces each curve draped in blue silk the way his hands once did.

levi could go over there. he could tell you that you look gorgeous in that dress. he could tell you that he misses you, needs you, loves you…

but then miche would make that face, and hange would fail to bite back that smile, and levi would have to block both their numbers and all their social media accounts again.

he could tell you these things, but he’s never figured out how. levi likes to handle things on his own and refuses to show weakness to anyone.

so he turns on his heel and heads in the opposite direction instead, towards the kitchen to look for a drink. he wasn’t really one for alcohol, but he needed it tonight.

he’s frowning over the various bottles when erwin appears, a knowing grin on his face. he has a habit of materializing out of nowhere when levi’s at his weakest.

“looking for anything in particular?” the blond asks.

“just a beer,” he mutters.

erwin hums, contemplative, then lists various drinks. “let’s see. there are have craft brews, ipa, winter wheat—”

levi makes a face. when the fuck did beer get complicated? “what the hell is a winter wheat?”

“it’s beer, levi,” he chuckles, shooting him an amused look. it lasts a second too long, and is followed by, “you saw her, didn’t you?”

“what does that have to do—”

“are we talking about levi’s love life?”

“no, we’re not,” levi snaps, shooting miche a warning glare that his dumb friend chooses to ignore.

“come on, we’ve known about your crush for years now,” the man continues, judging him slightly. “remember when you got drunk on hange’s birthday?”

“ah, yes,” erwin sighs, as if he’s recalling a particularly fond memory. “when you announced that you sorely missed—”

“oh my god. i hate my life,” levi mutters, turning on his heel and making his escape as the two grown men giggle like schoolgirls. he grabs the most expensive looking bottle of liquor, yanking the cork out and tossing it onto the counter.

“maybe you’ll hate your life less if you get laid!”

levi flips them both off before slipping out onto the balcony, content to hide out here until the countdown is over. the door slowly slides shut behind him, muffling the mellow music and cheery laughter inside.

he sets the bottle he’d swiped on the parapet, looking out at the twinkling city lights. these parties were much too suffocating, full of bright-eyed people that seemed keen on conversing with him no matter how reproachful his gaze.

he doesn’t turn around when he hears the door slide open and shut behind. he already knows who’s followed him outside.

winter here provides a crisp cool, but levi doesn’t mind, slipping his suit jacket off and tossing it onto a patio chair. you don’t seem to mind it either, bare back pressed against the parapet as you smile over at him.

“you didn’t say hello,” you murmur, leaning towards him. levi steals a glance at you, eyes wandering down the column of your neck to the tempting plunge of your neckline.

“hey,” he grunts, holding out the bottle he’d swiped in offering.

you accept it, taking a small sip. your face immediately pinches in displeasure, causing levi’s to crack with a small grin.

“how’s your night?” you ask out of nowhere.

“bored,” he answers stiffly, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the patio. “though i don’t suppose you actually care.”

you chuckle at that, your amusement barely audible over the breeze. you both know that’s not true. “just making conversation.”

“you’re pretty shit at it.”

the air between you both is suddenly hot, but levi shivers at the brush of your fingers against the corded muscle of his arm. your touch burns like fire across his skin as you murmur,

“shut me up then.”

his gaze falls to your mouth, pulse thundering in his ears as he leans forward and closes the distance. levi moves on instinct, locking a hand around your hip and pulling you closer. he swallows your surprised gasp with a kiss, but you don’t pull away.

he kisses you softly at first, each touch and movement of his mouth hesitant as he tests your boundaries. your hands move up his chest, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt collar and somehow pulling him closer, kissing him back with a fervor that makes him dizzy. your insistent mouth parts his lips, sending tremors through his nerves and awakening sensations he wants to feel again. it’s a good kiss. not bad for the first one you share in front of your friends (who are all gathered at the window) announcing your relationship as the clock the strikes midnight.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot x reader #aot fluff #levi ackerman x you

934 notes · View notes

kaciebello · 2 months

Text

Too many voicemails

Masterlist

Delivery Express ✿

Summary: The reader sees an opportunity to run an untapped market in Hogwarts. Howlers are the worst thing that can be delivered.

Warnings: disturbance in the library, one (1) use of horny joke, no use of y/n

Authors note: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. I want to spread this into a one-shot series. They took away my yellow colouring of the text ┬─┬ノ(ಠ_ಠノ). I will riot. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

Previously: Wrong address,

Next part: Message cannot be sent

word count: 1.1k

Notes to deliver: 679

A box with neatly placed envelopes slammed on the table making all the boys look up and then up to the familiar girl with a yellow bow in her hair. She received a few looks from the other kids in the library which she apologetically smiled at.

“What you got there?” Asked Lorenzo, leaning to see inside the box.

“Howlers.”

“Howlers?”

“Howlers.” A definitive nod from the girl. Leaning on the table over all the boys. They all look from their homework, waiting for her to continue but she does not.

“What are you doing with all of these?” Asks Draco, chewing on the end of his pencil. The girl just rolls her eyes.

“Delivering them, what else.” Her answer made Draco roll his eyes and pretends to return to his DADA homework. She just smiles. Lorenzo moves a bit so she can squeeze next to him.

“And you think bringing them to the library is a good idea?” Hissed Blasie, clearly not in the mood to get in trouble with the librarian. She just gives him a tight lip smile and titles her head to a side.

“Where else?” She asks and puts her legs over Lorenzo's lap otherwise she risks falling from the bench. She just lifted her hand in stop motion before he could say anything else.

“I am just here to give Lorenzo Charms notes, I am not delivering anything to you,” She says and pulls out the said notes from her bag. Lorenzo's smile widens and grabs it from her. theodor gives her a pointed look before trying to snatch the notes from Lorenzo, unsuccessfully. Lorenzo and the girl sway a bit but they manage to keep themself on the bench.

“Why does he get that privilege, hm?” He asks them. Pointing to the notes that are now lifted above Lorenzo's head. Draco tilted his head so he could read the visible portion before writing down whatever he could make out.

“ Because I like-” “ Because Lorenzo helps her with broom riding.” Cuts her off Mattheo, who was now going through the many howlers sitting in the box. Although seems like he hasn't found anything interesting. Draco looks at her with a raised eyebrow. ‘ you can't ride the boom?’ leaves him amused. To her, it seemed like he was mocking her for not being able to ride the broom like the rest of them. Completely ignoring, in her mind, that they are all quidditch players. She just huffs and crosses her arms.

“Hey, you know what? If they all went off, we could easily sneak into the restricted section.” Says Mattheo completely oblivious to what he just revealed. The girl gets up and stands next to him, inching the box away from him slowly.

“How about we don't.” She says, not trusting the boy to not do without thinking. “ plus I think like 15 of these are from one girl, all to one boy. I'm gonna be honest I don't think I wanna hear that.” She finishes and pats Mattheo on the back

“I'm here for you if you need oral support- moral support, I mean moral support.” Says Mattheo, pulling her to a side hug.

“Just say you're horny and go.” Tells him Blasie with a disgusted face. Theodor just shakes his head at his antics. Mattheo just shrugs and lets go of the girl, unbored by their reactions. Going back to his seat. A book flies past them and they barely have time to dodge it.

“I swear, it's gonna kill someone one day.” Says Lorenzo looking at the books flying by.

“Like you haven't summoned like 5 books for the 3 hours we were here.” Argues Draco. Lorenzo did not even bother to react, instead talking to the girl.

“ What do you think it's in them?” He says and reaches for one of the envelopes. Snatching it before the girl could stop him. Opening it, it slipped from his hand and started floating above the table. The group watched like hawks.

The envelope stayed silent for some time, terrible singing after that. A horrible attempt at the song ‘I Will Always Love You’ had the boys scrambling to shut the envelope up. Matheo managed to lay down on it and silenced it. Some people were looking at them, some with curiosity, some with annoyance. If looks could kill, there would be an empty table at the library right now.

Mattheo pulls it out from beneath him, thinking it is over. Once the envelope is free, it starts to sing again. Panic among all of them. Lorenzo almost knocked over the box but the girl luckily caught it. Blaise, seeming the one who was holding their shared brain cell, pulled out his wanted and set the envelope on fire. Again receiving some looks. Even the librarian was making her way up to stairs to check the commotion.

They all watched it burn, sinking into their seat in relief, before quickly spewing the ashes away. The girl quickly sat and squished herself next to Lorenzo and pretended to help him with his homework. The other followed her lead so that the librarian would not suspect it was them. None of them wanted to be kicked out of the library.

After some time, the air seemed less stuffed and they all felt like they could breathe again. Without much more time, the girl gets up and hurriedly takes the box in her hands.

“I'll go before you guys decide to cause trouble again.” She says giving them a judging look.

“ Hey don't blame all of us! We didn't collectively open the howler!” Defends Theodor. and points accusing Lorenzo, who looked shocked and offended his friend was throwing him under the bus.

“Yeah, but you didn't try to stop him either, did you.”

“ Neither did you!” Draco chimes in. She could not argue with that, she didn't try at all. Shaking her head. She adjusted the box on her hands, as it was a bit heavy. Maybe she could have charmed it to just float behind her and follow her. It would certainly make the delivery much easier.

“It's better none of you are near these, ever.” She says making sure to point at the group with her finger.

The girl picked up her box, ready to be on her way. Accio was heard from somewhere in the library and a book flew right next to her head, startling her. She jumped up and the box flew out of her hands. With horror they all watched as it landed on the floor, realizing all the howlers inside. They all turned on. 50 howlers, going on in the lidbaby at the same time. She watched in horror as all eyes were on them. The boys knew what to do. They packed their bags with unwitnessed speed and book it. Lorenzo grabs her hand, making sure she follows them.

And honestly, they were right, it was an excellent distraction, and none of them made their way to the restricted sections.

Notes to deliver: 629

Tag list:

@daisiesformylove , @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone , @enfppixie , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @anyam444 , @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet , @jazz-berry @iwishigotswallowed

444 notes · View notes

mousy-nona · 2 months

Note

Because I'm a sucker for seeing Vox lose it over RadioApple, and also them dancing, maybe a thing where RadioAaple both a little tipsy, dance in Lucifer's room late at night. Vox sees them on his drone and freaks because 1) Alastor is letting himself be unguarded with a person 2) Alastor is dancing and 3) Alastor has, in fact, made nice with the King like Vox was afraid of. Very nice by the looks of it.

“Do you ever think you may have a problem?”

That was Velvette, who was using her best “let’s not piss off the crazy man” voice.

“No.”

“Not even a little one?”

“No.”

Valentino and Velvette exchanged telling looks, which Vox promptly ignored. He had more important things to worry about, like keeping this stupid drone in the air. Maneuvering the machine itself was easy, but getting around the electromagnetic force field Alastor had set up around the hotel’s perimeter was a whole lot trickier. Vox had been flying in circles for hours, trying to find a weak spot in Alastor’s defenses.

(He knew it’d been hours because Velvette had started shooting worried glances at him around hour two, Valentino had showed up around hour five, and they’d started a game of rock-paper-scissors to figure out who was going to do a wellness check on him around hour six.)

“Ah-ha!” Vox screamed, jabbing both fists in the air when the force field flexed and glitched, creating a half second window of opportunity. He urged the drone forward, barely zipping past before the shield re-formed. “Boo-yah! Who’s your daddy?”

Valentino smirked and took in a long drag of his pipe. “Vox, baby, not outside the bedroom.”

Vox’s metal heart – the same one he always denied having – started beating faster as the camera zoomed closer and closer to the hotel. He zipped to Alastor’s radio tower first, then his room, frowning slightly when all he found was a half-eaten deer, a cooling cup of coffee, and a discarded coat.

From behind him, Velvette clapped her hands with an annoyed huff of relief. “Oh, well, looks like the asshole is out. Too bad, so sad. Can we please get back to something actually fucking important?”

But Vox shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. It’s 11 o’clock. Alastor usually finishes his business before seven so he can have dinner at eight, or else he gets too hungry to do–” He trailed off when he saw the look on both their faces. They were both staring at him as if he was a terminal patient, come down with an incurable case of Alastor-itis.

He sighed and re-focused on the screen. “It just doesn’t make sense, okay?”

The library. The lobby. The kitchen. Alastor was nowhere to be found.

Then Vox had a horrible thought. He remembered the rumors flying around town, the wild laughs of excitement and the curses emanating from the hotel recently. He remembered Alastor’s most recent broadcast (“Folks, when living with an annoying roommate, always remember to assert your dominance wherever possible”). And most of all, he remembered Alastor’s smug face as he strolled down the street, humming merrily to himself as he twirled an unfamiliar white top hat on his staff.

He remembered the strange apple that had appeared on the top right of the hotel, just down the hall from Alastor.

His heart in his throat, he slowly moved the drone higher, then higher still. Don’t be there, don’t be there, don’t be there –

Velvette and Vox went quiet at the scene that appeared on the screen. Alastor was there all right, but he wasn’t alone. As if he’d suddenly downloaded a virus, Vox could only process what he was seeing in chunks.

He saw the record player first, oddly enough. An old-timey song was playing, static crackling and popping as a low sweet croon, somehow both deep and high, filled the room. 25%.

The room was dark, but a few candles and duck-shaped lamps were gleamed with a heavenly light, washing the pair slowly revolving in the center of the room in a seductive golden glow. 50%.

The king of hell was there. The expression on his face was…tender. His head was tucked into Alastor’s narrow chest, one hand on Alastor’s shoulder and the other clasped in Alastor’s hand. His eyes were sparkling, almost overfilled with a nameless emotion that Vox knew all too well. Alastor’s hand was curled around his waist protectively (possessively). 75%.

And finally, Vox saw Alastor. Really saw him, as if for the first time, because this wasn’t his Alastor. His Alastor was always one step ahead, always untouchable, cold, cruel, and capable of truly unspeakable acts of violence with an effortless charm that made his blood boil with envy and need at the same time.

But the Alastor in front of him…his coat was off. For the first time in fifty years, Vox saw Alastor’s bare skin, his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he allowed another living soul to see him undressed. Unguarded. His eyes, always so alert and aware, were closed.

Worst of all was his smile. It looked soft. Gentle – or whatever passed for gentle with Alastor. As Vox watched, Lucifer’s lips moved. The words were too soft for the drone to pick up, but whatever it was, Alastor laughed. Not in a mocking or teasing way, but an actual, genuine laugh, as if Alastor was a real boy with a real heart.

100%.

Suddenly, Alastor’s eyes flew open, and he stared at Vox through the screen. The wicked smirk that curled his lips was the last thing the drone ever saw as it glitched, red shaking and warping the feed until it went completely dead, and the three of them were left staring at a black screen.

Silence reigned. Then – “Well, I’ll be. Looks like the deer found himself a doe.”

Velvette shot Valentino a warning look, then took a hesitant step forward. “Vox – “ Velvette started, but Vox started cackling. Wild, out of control, utterly insane laughs ripped from his wires as his monitor-face went haywire.

“I am going to kill that motherfucker!”

#radioapple #hazbin hotel #vox is Jealous with a capital J #alastor #hazbin #vox #duckiedeer #prompts #asks

412 notes · View notes

harunayuuka2060 · 9 months

Text

Crowley: MC? MC? I have a new job for you—

Grim: The hench-human is at the roof, fixing the holes.

Crowley: Oh. Would you tell them to get down so we could talk?

Grim: Nah. It's raining. I don't want to get wet.

Crowley: I'll just wait here then. And ooh~ Looks like they've made some changes already.

Grim: They said it was barely habitable. They got a few things from the storage room to renovate the dorm a little.

Crowley: What a talented individual.

Grim: So, what do you want from my hench-human?

Crowley: You see, I'm thinking of turning you both into students of Night Raven College.

Grim: Mryah! Really?!

Crowley: Yes. I've realized that it would be a waste to just have them work as a janitor.

Grim: Mryahah~! Wait. *frowns at him*

Crowley: Is there something wrong, Grim?

Grim: You want to exploit my hench-human!

Crowley: Wh— Of course not! Where does that come from?!

Grim: They're already cleaning the whole school and that isn't enough for you?!

Crowley: I have provided you food and shelter!

Grim: Hench-human has to work outside the school mryah! Because the food you're giving us ain't enough!

Crowley: They still have time for that— *clears throat*— Well, they could've asked for more. That shouldn't be my problem.

MC: *walks in* *dripping wet* Hey, Grim. Can you grab me some towel— *noticed Crowley*— What do you want?

Grim: *flies to their side* He wants to exploit us!

Crowley: Certainly not! I'm here to offer you to officially become a student of our school. *smiling*

MC: *raised an eyebrow*

MC: Yeah. Grim sure could use that.

Crowley: H-How about you? Are you not interested?

MC: Nah. I'm good. I had vocational courses in my world. No need for me to have a diploma here.

Crowley: Oh. I did hear from Grim you got a job outside the campus.

MC: Yeah. I realized I can't live off solely from your benevolence when I'm feeding a glutton.

Grim: I'm not a glutton!

Crowley: ...

Crowley: I see. But as you've said, Grim could use this opportunity. So would you be taking the job I'm about to offer you?

MC: *smirks* Sure. I can use some extra income.

Crowley: ...

Crowley: I can only offer you a minimum wage.

MC: I'm not picky.

Crowley: Wonderful!

Leona: Huh? Who's that?

Ruggie: Don't you know? They're the janitor.

Leona: What are they doing here in Savanaclaw?

Ruggie: They've come to inspect each dorm in Night Raven College.

Leona: Huh?

MC: Some of the rooms here are full of shit.

Savanaclaw students: Why do you care?

MC: Shitty rooms, shitty people. *yawns* I feel like burning this whole place down.

Savanaclaw students: You can't do that!

MC: I can, pals. If you don't start cleaning right now.

Leona: ...

*In the housewarden meeting*

Leona: Hey, Crowley. What's up with that?

Crowley: *smiling* Is there a problem, Kingscholar?

Leona: Why does that punk get to do a dorm inspection?

Idia: Yeah! They have no respect to anyone's privacy!

Vil and Riddle: ...

Riddle: That isn't true at all.

Vil: Heartslabyul and Pomefiore were commended for their unwavering commitment to cleanliness and orderliness.

Vil: And they had asked for permission beforehand.

Azul: Though if you were to decline, they would persist and resort to using force to gain entry.

Kalim: I got scolded for keeping bugs in the kitchen...

Riddle: What the hell—

Crowley: MC's job as a dorm inspector only happens every end of the week. So you have nothing to worry about regarding invasion of privacy. *smiles*

Grim: Hench-human... *seems exhausted* *flies to their arms*

MC: You alright, buddy?

Grim: I hate classes... I give up.

MC: *chuckles* Looks like your preschool brain can't handle college classes.

Grim: Mryah! What did you say?!

MC: *pets him* Told ya to learn your ABC's first.

Grim: MRRAAAAHHHH!!!

MC: Easy, bud. Easy. I got you some food.

Grim: Take back what you said!

MC: Nuh-uh. Just prove me wrong.

Grim: I'll prove you wrong! Watch me!

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst grim #twst crowley #twst housewardens #the affable delinquent

1K notes · View notes

dirtyvulture · 10 months

Text

Beefy!Natasha Romanoff* x Fem!Reader

*Nat has a penis

18+ read at your own risk

Requested by anon: hi can u do g!p beefy nat please and like innocent sub fem reader absolutely dripping for her in public and trying to cup her bulge and muscles and so nat takes her home while ignoring her in the car and rams her senselessly in their bed

AN: This one is for the bottoms. Enjoy!

"Y/N, can you hand me that rag from the bucket. Y/N? Hello?”

You are completely oblivious to Steve asking you for something because you are so fixated on watching your girlfriend. The way she fills out her tank top, with her muscles stretching the fabric perfectly. The flex in her arms and shoulders when she reaches across the hood of a car, wiping a chamois back and forth until the metal gleams.

The Avengers were hosting a car wash and naturally, cars filled the entire block. You had come along because you really had nothing better to do, and you were not going to pass up an opportunity to see Natasha, half-clothed and working hard manual labor under the sun.

“Y/N!”

“Sorry, sorry!” you squeak, scrambling to fish a rag from a soapy bucket and passing it over to Steve. Natasha smirks as she watches you, knowing full well the effect she has on you. She pats the hood of the car, signaling she’s done, and the driver pulls forward to Thor’s station. Natasha walks over to the tent you’re taking cover from the sun under.

“You okay, babe? Make sure you’re staying hydrated,” Natasha says.

“I am,” you insist.

“Good.” Natasha grabs her own water bottle, taking a long sip from it, and pouring the rest over her head. The water turns her white tank top see-through and when you see the fabric clinging to her perfectly sculpted abs, you almost fall over.

“Just give me a few more minutes and we can head home,” Natasha says, coming over to you for a kiss. You don’t even realize what your hands are doing until you feel Natasha’s fingers close around your wrist, effectively stopping you from grabbing her bulge right in front of everyone. “Not here, baby,” she warns, but gives you a wink. “Maybe at home.”

You’re pretty sure you’re going to explode from the sheer level of arousal.

You sit down, crossing your legs, and trying to think of anything and everything that will take your mind off the empty pulsing of your core. You try to stop watching Natasha as she polishes off another car, but you can’t help but drool at her back muscles and stare at her ass.

When Natasha finishes the last car, she comes back to you. “Tony’s taking over for me. Ready to go home?”

“Yes, yes!” You leap up with embarrassing enthusiasm.

The drive back to your house is barely ten minutes, but you’ve already shown you have no restraint when it comes to your girlfriend, especially after watching her work in the heat for almost two hours. Your hand starts out innocently on her thigh, but slowly creeps higher towards her crotch. Natasha gives no indication she wants you in her pants, so you continue to push your luck until she finally swats you just as you’ve made it to her zipper.

“I said at home,” she scolds you.

“I could blow you while you drive,” you beg. “I bet I can get you to finish before we’re even in the driveway.”

“Do you think that lowly of my stamina?” Natasha replies.

“No, no!” you insist. “I just want you so badly, Nat. In my hand, in my mouth, in my--”

“That’s enough,” she snaps, and you know you’re walking a fine line, but you’re willing to push the boundary as far as you can go. But Natasha won’t have it, and she holds your wrists in your own lap to prevent you from touching her again.

When you finally arrive at the house, Natasha comes over to lift you out of the car and carry you inside. You’re squirming in her arms, impatient and desperate, but Natasha doesn’t say anything until you two are safely within the confines of your bedroom.

“On your knees,” Natasha demands, setting you on the floor.

You scramble to obey, watching hungrily as Natasha strips off her tank top and kicks off her jeans. You see how big the bulge in her boxers has become and you know she’s just as excited for this as you are.

“Put that pretty mouth to work,” she says, starting to stroke herself but you swat her hands away, taking her entire length in one swallow. Natasha moans as you pull back to suck on her tip and she threads her fingers in your hair to hold you in place as she starts jerking her hips forward. Your eyes water when the tip prods at the back of your throat, but you love being used like this.

You grasp at her muscular thighs, trying to keep yourself balanced as she fucks your mouth, wishing that she would stay still for a moment so you can savor her taste and the way her cock stretches past your lips.

“Fuck, baby, that’s my good girl,” Natasha grunts, her fingers tightening against your scalp as her hips move faster. “Where do you want my load? Down your throat or up your pussy?”

The dirty talk causes your own panties to soak with wetness. You can’t speak around her cock, and you won’t dare pull her out to respond.

“How about both?” Natasha offers, her abs flexing as she empties herself into your mouth in record time. You smirk, knowing that she could never last long in your mouth. When she pulls out, you take in a big breath and try to dive back in for another taste, but she stops you.

“On the bed, baby,” Natasha says, sweat gleaming on her muscles as she tears off your clothes and man-handles you onto the mattress. She slaps your butt and rubs her cock through your thighs until it’s throbbing and hard again. “Oh God, you’re so wet. What was it? Seeing me at the car wash or sucking on my dick?”

The real answer is both, but you manage to squeak out, “The car wash!” before Natasha slides effortlessly into your heat. The emptiness in your core is replaced by a feeling of being stretched almost to your limits; Natasha is big and no matter how many takes you take her, it’s like the first time. You moan as she starts thrusting into you, holding tightly onto your hips to keep you from bouncing away.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Natasha pants, pistoning into you harder and faster.

“Right there, Nat, right there,” you say when you feel her tip brush a sensitive spot inside of you. “Fuck!”

“You’re not gonna cum until I say you can,” Natasha demands, but the quiver in her own voice gives away the fact that she’s close too. You grab onto the bedsheets in clawed hands, biting into a pillow to will yourself from falling over the edge before you’re given permission to.

“Please Nat,” you beg. “I can’t hold it much longer.”

“Yes, you can,” she says, her hips moving jerkily now. Your walls clamp down on her cock sporadically until she can’t take it.

“Cum with me, baby.”

You don’t need to be told twice, your entire body going rigid as the ball of arousal in your stomach explodes. Your cum gushes all over Natasha’s cock and down your thighs, and her own seed shoots deep into you. Both of you ride out the bliss of your orgasms and Natasha lays on top of you, careful not to crush you with her weight but you want to feel every part of her against your skin.

“I love you,” you whisper, cuddling into her and closing your eyes in content.

“I love you, too,” she says.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #beefy!nat #natasha romanoff x reader

1K notes · View notes

revasserium · 4 months

Note

hiii i'm a new follower and i love your writing so much

ik u said no requests in ur bio but i just finished reading ur sanji fic.. so even if ur still not taking requests i'd just like to throw in an idea that u may or may not feel like using in the future, up to you (i'm requesting this with opla sanji in mind but if u wanna use it for zoro that's cool too)

k so imagine reader being invited to a friend's wedding, & being excited to go until they find out their ex is coming too (with their partner of some amt of yrs). so now reader is pressured to bring someone w/ them & ends up asking their best friend sanji bc they don't want others thinking they're still hung up on the past.

wedding dress

opla!sanji; 6,544 words, pining with a happy ending, fluff and a tad of angst, flirting, lovesick!sanji, whipped!!!!sanji, no "y/n", zeff is a whole mood, confessions, sanji-appropriate nickname usage, modern!au?

summary: you invite sanji to be your plus 1 at a wedding

a/n: im so sorry this took so long. but. better late than? never? also, there is a tiny bit of rehashing for ep 6 of the live action for sanji and zeff's relationship so... spoilers?

It’s a chilly, overcast kind of day when the call comes in. And in retrospect, Sanji thinks he should’ve known better when he’d seen your name on the caller ID. He’d hesitated, because by god if it wasn’t his New Year's Resolution to get the hell over you this year, but it’s almost December again and he still can’t help the way his heart races at the sound of your voice.

“Hey sweetheart — long time no talk!” he answers after a brief moment of contemplating his entire life, dusting his flour-covered hands on his apron.

“Hey! Sorry for calling so… out of the blue…” your voice is still as sweet as ever, and the way his stomach twists at the tinkle of your nervous laughter makes him want to kick himself. Still, he forces himself to stay calm, clearing his throat as he checks the oven — it’s almost done pre-heating.

“Now you know what I said about actin’ a stranger — just because you moved halfway across the entire world doesn’t mean we ain’t best friends anymore, right?”

It’s what you’d said when he’d been standing at the airport, three seconds from dropping to his knees and begging you not to go. But he hadn’t, because he knew how hard you’d worked for this — for this opportunity abroad, to study art in the birthplace of the Renaissance itself, in the heart of Italy.

“And… you might be able to come visit me, right?” you’d said, rocking on the balls of your feet, your eyes full of what Sanji could only call false hope — which is always, always the worst and most painful kind.

Sanji had swallowed and nodded and said something or other about Europe and fine dining, but there’s a terrible, prickling heat eating up the back of his neck and a voice that’s screaming at him to pull you to him and kiss you. He doesn’t. And he regrets it to this day.

“Ah — right… I’m actually calling because… I’ll be in the area in about a week and…”

Your voice pulls him out of his reverie and he clears his throat, hitches a smile to his face that he knows you can’t see but he’s sure you can hear.

“Oh! That’s great, darling! You’ve gotta come for a drink, I’ll whip up all your favorites — we can make a night —”

“It’s actually for a wedding.”

There are a few moments in everyone’s lives when they learn the true meaning of a thing for the very first time — elation, pride, stomach-twisting guilt, and… fear. True fear, the kind of fear that shakes the muscle from your bones and sends them tingling, threatens to overwhelm you with numbness. Fear, that pushes adrenaline through you like a drug, forces the world into a terrifying, all-consuming focus.

Sanji feels the fear coursing through him, wild and contentious at your words.

A wedding.

Your wedding? Perhaps?

He can’t bear to think of it; he’s so terrified he can barely breathe.

Then comes the moment after, the wave of everything else that the fear had washed away — confusion, anger, guilt (always guilt, for some reason), because isn’t he supposed to be happy for you? For you, the person he loves most in this entire world, to find love, to know happiness. He should. He should.

“Oh.”

Sanji sags back against the hard, metal counter. Almost mindlessly, he reaches into his pockets with shaking hands, digging around for a smoke.

Your breath is soft in his ear, too far across the phone line and a thousand miles of ocean.

“I originally wasn’t even planning on going — she’s not a very close friend — we had like one class together but —”

And within the span of a minute, Sanji also learns relief. The kind that melts the world around you into sizzling butter and champagne bubbles. The kind that makes you want to lie down on the ground and scream.

“— it was so close to your restaurant so I said yes but I didn’t know he was gonna be there and —”

You’re still talking, rambling like you do. And it takes nearly everything inside Sanji to pull himself back to the conversation.

“Sorry, love, who did you say was gonna be there?”

“My ex — you know the one —”

Sanji grimaces, flicking on his lighter with still-shaking fingers.

“Mm, yeah I do. The tall, dark-haired bastard who —”

“Yeah well — he’s gonna be there too and I just —” he hears you swallow hard and take a long, steadying breath. An unnameable something is calcifying in the depths of his stomach as he waits for you to collect yourself.

Curiosity? Why had you called like this, so suddenly, about a wedding where your ex was going to be? Concern? Were you thinking of going back to him?

But slowly, as you stutter through your next few words, the unnameable thing obtains a name — dread.

“— I just don’t think I could do it myself, y’know? And — and you were the one who got me out of it wh-when I decided to break it off with him so…”

Sanji takes a long drag of his cigarette and casts his eyes up at the high, white-slabbed ceiling of the kitchen, scored with long strips of bright, fluorescent lighting that floods the entire room in a direct, unforgiving glow.

He closes his eyes and counts to three.

“Course I’ll come with you, darlin’. It —” he wets his lips, taps off a bit of ash from his cigarette, and sucks in through his nose, clearing his throat of the words still lodged there, “— it’d be my honor.”

Relief — he hears it in your voice, and by gods he can almost see it — the way your whole face would light up, washed as if by the setting sun, your eyes wide and dark, your cheeks flushing his favorite fucking shade of pink and —

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really owe you for this one —”

Sanji makes a valiant effort at a nonchalant chuckle; it comes out sounding like a dog with a bit of bone stuck in its throat instead.

“Nonsense — what are best friends for, anyway?”

There’s a tiny pause where Sanji can feel the words best friend scraping along the insides of his mouth, barbed and harsh, leaving his tongue feeling raw and metallic.

“You really are the best friend anyone could ask for,” your voice is soft and honest and Sanji wants nothing more than to chuck his phone into the industrial blender.

You tell him that you’ll send him the details, that you can’t wait to see him soon, that you’ve got a world and a half of catching up to do, that you’ll buy him so, so many drinks, and that you’ll come bearing presents. He laughs at the right times, makes soft noises of consent and agreement, and when finally, finally you tell him goodbye, he clicks off the phone and takes another long drag of his smoke.

And then, he whips his hand back and throws the cigarette butt into the large sink, where it tinks against the metal and sizzles sadly in the murky dishwater.

“Real sucker for punishment, aren’tcha, lil’ eggplant?”

Sanji groans, turning around to find Zeff with his arms folded, the hip to his bad leg propped against a counter.

“Will you fuck kindly off — can’t you see I’m going through a thing here?”

Zeff snorts, clunking unevenly towards him.

“You been going through that thing for the last year and a half since you chickened outta askin’ her to stay so —”

“I didn’t chicken out — I — it was her dream to go to Florence and study —”

“And what was your dream then, ey?”

Sanji bangs his palm against the counter and sighs, “It’s not like I could leave you here with —”

“With what? A thriving restaurant business that I started? A guest list out the door and round the corner —”

“I — I helped!”

Zeff rolls his eyes, “Ah sure ya did, but I never asked you to, did I?”

Sanji huffs, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop the torrent of horrible, sad, acrid things he could say and could never mean, so he swallows them back down. When he looks up next, Zeff is still standing there, but there’s a softness around his eyes.

He opens his mouth a few times, but eventually, all he says is, “The oven’s over heatin’.”

Sanji swears and jumps up to tug open the oven door. A wave of hot air whooshes out and nearly catches him in the face. Behind him, he can hear Zeff’s dark, gravelly chuckle, and the dull clunk of his wooden leg.

“You burn the kitchen down, you pay for it.”

And then he’s gone again, leaving the door swinging behind him, and Sanji very much alone with the too-hot oven and a counter full of things he can’t really remember the recipes for anymore.

Nearly a week later, Sanji finds himself standing at the airport, rocking on the balls of his feet, nearly in the exact same place as he’d been a year and a half prior. Except this time, you’re not walking away from him. You’re walking back towards him. He wonders if there’s a name for deja-vu in reverse and comes to the realization that that’s just called… a memory.

And memory seems to work in strange ways now, images superimposing themselves on top of one another — the flicker of a film lens, the bat of an eyelash, the shadow of a smile crimping the corner of your lips. All of this, he sees in the here and now, but he sees it in the air around you too, shimmering and mirage-like — all his memories and dreams of you layered over the shape of you. Your memory like a ghost of itself, trailing behind you as you walk towards him, a shy smile on your face, your cheeks flushed from travel and the cold and —

He doesn’t let himself hope. Not this time.

“Hey!” your voice is just as bell-like as he remembers it, pitched a little higher than it usually is, probably out of nervousness. But it still feels like a kick to the guts. Sanji forces himself to smile.

“Hi, love,” he says, leaning down as you reach him, but the motion aborts halfway because — is it still appropriate to hug you like he’d always done? To press his lips to your cheek or your hairline and revel in the bright citrus of your shampoo, to soak in the butter and cream of your skin like he used to?

There’s an awkward half-second pause before you’re standing up on tip-toe and Sanji’s heart nearly drops out of his ass as you lean in. But then — your lips skim by his cheek and your arms are around him, and stupid, stupid, stupid heart — thundering in his chest like horses or hooves or fists or thumping rabbit’s feet — leaping into his throat and pattering against the base of his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. But it’s not close enough. It’s never close enough.

He breathes and distantly, a part of him notes that you still use the same shampoo.

“Hi…” your voice is warm by his ear, a bit muffled, but he can’t help the way it makes him shiver, “It’s… so good to see you.”

He nods, not trusting his own voice to do the normal thing and, oh, you know — work.

“I’ve — I’ve missed you.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough as he nods again. He feels your arms slackening around him and a fierce, terrifying thing is flapping its wings in his stomach, screeching at him not to let you go. But he does — like he did before.

“I — I missed you too,” he says, though his voice sounds flat and scratchy and he clears his throat again.

A dozen different expressions flicker across the lovely planes of your face and finally, it settles on endeared exasperation.

“Please don’t tell me you still work through like three packs of smokes a day.”

Sanji laughs then, shaking his head as he reaches over for your luggage, “Nah — well, maybe not three but —”

You whack him softly on the arm.

“I actually tried to quit right after you left.”

“You did?”

Sanji shrugs as the pair of you start to make for the exit. He feels your gaze go slanted and shrewd.

“How long’d that last?”

He smirks, “Few hours.”

You whack him again and this time, he dodges out of the way just to bask in the bright spark of your laughter as you chase after him.

“Seriously though, you know how terrible they are for you!”

“Sure do,” he says, tugging one out of his pocket as soon as he clears the airport doors, pivoting left towards the parking garage. You have to jog to keep up with his longer strides, your breaths misting the air between you in silvery puffs.

He makes no move to light it as he helps toss your luggage into the trunk of his car, sliding into the driver’s seat. You huff as you wiggle into the passenger’s side.

“Then why —”

Sanji waits patiently for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling out of the parking space, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting soft against the middle console. He slates you a glance.

“Cause,” he says, fixing his eyes back on the road, an easy smirk twisting his lips, “it’s a metaphor.”

You groan, sinking into the seat, “Just because you read John Green one time —”

“Oi, I’ll have you know I read his entire bibliography after you showed him to me.”

“Ugh, whatever you manic-pixie-dreamgirl-loving ass.”

“Yeah, whatever — you actual manic pixie dreamgirl.”

You smile and Sanji allows himself the brief and aching delusion that the past year and a half didn’t happen, that you never left, and that you’d never leave. That you’d always be here, warm and laughing and just within reach.

The rest of the car ride is spent in mundane conversation, in how was your flight and tell me about Florence and how’s Zeff doing these days and I wanna know about your latest dish. It’s light and easy, and Sanji lets it warm the air around him. By the time he pulls into the front of your hotel, all the unsaid words from the past year and a half have soaked through his socks and into his shoes. It sloshes out onto the pale pavement as he opens the car door.

He helps you roll your luggage up into the lobby and tells you he’ll be here at 3PM to pick you up tomorrow. The venue’s just three blocks away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” you say, pursing your lips, waving as he backpedals towards the automatic doors.

“You’ve still gotta send me pictures of the dress you’re wearing — I gotta find a matching tie.”

You laugh, a bit embarrassed, “Right — and here I thought I might surprise you.”

Sanji freezes, eyes wide.

“O-oh! Er — well, you can just — just tell me what color or —” he waves vaguely, “send a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against —”

You nod, eyes glittering, eager once more, “Oh! That’s a good idea — I’ll do that.”

“Great,” Sanji says.

“Great!” you echo, perhaps a bit too chipper.

He gives you one last smile before turning and striding from the hotel, firing up the engine as calmly as he can, forcing himself not to turn and check if you’re still watching him through the brightly lit, sliding glass doors. He allows himself a glance through the rear-view mirror as he pulls away from the drive and his heart skips a beat when he realizes you’re still standing there, right in the middle of the lobby, fingers wrapped around the handle of your suitcase, your eyes fixed on the shadow of his retreating car.

He lights the smoke the second he turns the corner, your shadow no longer in his rear-view mirror.

That night, Sanji dreams in fits and leaps, flashing images and long, sticky streams of could-have-beens —

He dreams of your laughter in a white-tiled kitchen, of powdered sugar and eggshells cracked and leaking on an exposed wood counter, chopsticks clinking against a thick glass mixing bowl. He dreams of your voice echoing off the shower tiles as you sing off-key, the way you used to when you’d sneak into his college dorm for movie night and a midnight snack. He dreams of coffee mugs and errant rose petals and dandelion seeds blowing in the wind. He dreams of dancing with you in his arms in a darkened dorm room that morphs into a bigger room with a softer carpet, one that he’d never seen before but he knows implicitly (like bodies know) is his home — it has pictures on the walls, trinkets lining the far bookshelf, your favorite scarf draped over the back of the well-worn sofa.

In the dream, you pull your head back from where it's pillowed against his shoulder and smile up at him. He leans down to kiss you, his lips hovering half an inch from yours.

Sanji jerks awake to the sound of his alarm, fingers fumbling for his phone, groaning as he smashes the orange snooze button and flips over to bury his face back into his lumpy pillow.

“Ah… fuck.”

It’s not the first time he’s had that dream, and he knows it won’t be the last. But it’d been so real that night, real enough to make him wonder if it just might come true.

He rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes and peers blearily at all the notifications on his screen. There’s a text from you with a picture attached. He clicks it open to find a short message attached to the picture — I really did want to surprise you…

He blinks for three seconds at what looks like a blurry picture of studded black silk before he remembers —

“Send me a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against.”

He allows himself a laugh, swinging his feet out of bed even as he types back — you coulda just told me it was black…

He watches the three little dots appear and disappear a few times, chewing on his bottom lip, before the text appears — well there are different shades of black, right???

Sanji laughs, shaking his head.

sure there are.

A string of tongue-out emojis, followed by an equally long string of middle-finger emojis.

He spends the rest of the morning fussing over which specific black tie to wear before settling on one that he’s quite sure is the exact same shade of black as your dress (and yes, he does have quite the collection of black ties), before tugging his best suit out to press.

It shouldn’t feel so easy, slipping back into the rhythm of things, of texting and smiling and hearing your voice in his head when he reads your texts. It shouldn’t feel so easy to forget the months of radio silence and guilt, the oppressive, resonant weight of what might have been if either of you had done a single thing different that day at the airport — he wonders if he should’ve reached for your hand, he wonders if you’d ever looked back.

He hadn’t. He couldn’t let himself.

He is waiting for you in the lobby at 2:45, wearing a hole into the plush Persian carpet, collecting strained looks from the concierge who had assured him three times in the last four minutes that he’d already rung up to your room and that you’d said you were on your way.

“Wow, you’re early — sorry I took a while — I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hair and —“

Sanji lifts his head and thinks distantly that all those rom-com cliches of a guy looking up, time itself slackening, the room smearing sideways around him, the music going slow, the lighting soft — all of it is painfully, startlingly true after all.

Because there you are, walking towards him, still saying something, but he can’t make out the words anymore because time isn’t really a thing anymore, is it? He can’t focus on that and also the dark glimmer of your dress, the way the neckline skates just beneath your collarbones, barely skimming the skin there before it slips down along the slope of your shoulders in a way that makes his breath unspool inside his chest like loose threads.

And in the slanted, ethereal light of the winter afternoon, your dress looks like it’s cut from a swath of darkest midnight, moonless and scattered with stars.

You blush as Sanji attempts to pick his jaw up off the floor and hitch his lips into something resembling a smile.

“W-wow… you look…”

Your smile is shy as you press your palms against the dress, looking down, “Thanks… you don’t think it’s… too much?”

Sanji shakes his head, feeling dazed.

“No! I mean — it’s —“ his mouth is dry, drier than he ever remembers it being, and suddenly it’s very hard to swallow and Sanji isn’t even sure the muscles in his neck know how to perform the action, let alone force words out alongside it. He struggles for another few seconds, his jaw working furiously as his eyes skitter down and back up the shape of you.

“You look… perfect,” he says, finally, because the word has been ricocheting around his chest like a stray bullet and he had to let it out somehow.

“Thanks — you don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, your voice breathy in a way that makes Sanji’s stomach squeeze.

He offers you his arm, and you glide forward to take it.

He drives the three blocks to the wedding venue in a daze, his mind spinning slow and off-axis, tilted so by the gentle waft of your perfume, the lullaby of your voice as you chatter nervously about this and that and the weather, I mean, can you believe it’s gonna be an outdoor wedding in the winter? He wonders briefly why you’re so nervous, and then he’s reminded of the reason he’s even here at all — your ex will be here. Ah. Right.

“Ready?” he asks, offering you his arm again as the both of you follow the meandering stream of arriving guests toward the paved outdoor garden area where the ceremony is due to take place.

“No, but… you’re here so…” you let out a breath and for a second, Sanji almost thinks he hears the hint of an ache in your voice. An ache like an old scab picked at too many times, like unrequited love, perhaps. It’s an ache with which Sanji is so intimately familiar that he immediately tamps it down and vows not to think about it again for the rest of the night.

There are stiff-backed waiters wandering around with plates of hors d’oeuvres and thin flutes of bubbling pink champagne.

Sanji grabs two glasses and hands you one.

“Cheers, then.”

“Bottoms up,” you say, tossing back the entire flute in one.

Sanji cocks his eyebrows, grinning as he follows suit, smacking his lips.

“Alright then, I guess if that’s how you’re playin’ —”

Your laughter is light, if a little strained, but he remembers how quickly bubbly drinks tend to go to your head and makes a concerted effort to slow down. You make it all the way through the actual ceremony without bumping into your ex, though you do lean over and grab Sanji’s hand as the bride and groom exchange vows — something about love being a choice, one that they promise to make every morning of every day for the rest of their lives — and he looks over to find you misty-eyed, bottom lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sap,” he whispers, leaning over. It earns him a choked laugh and a half-hearted elbow in the ribs, but it’s worth it to see the tension melt from your shoulders.

Sanji turns back towards the bride and groom, exchanging rings now, and unbidden comes the images of you and him standing where they are — you in a dazzling white gown, him still in a dark suit, but one perhaps of more expensive material and much better tailoring. He thinks about all the things he might promise you, wonders at what you might promise him in return —

“I promise to love and cherish you —” you might say.

“I promise to make all your favorite foods,” he might say.

“I promise not to touch your emotional support le creuset pans.”

“I promise not to make you taste all my experimental dishes —”

“Okay, but what if I want to —”

He imagines the way the crowd would titter, how the officiator would affectionately clear his throat. He imagines Zeff’s warm, well-worn laughter, rough and a little torn at the edges because he’s just as sentimental as the next guy behind all the beard and gruffness. He imagines the crowd smiling up at the pair of you, the way you’d squeeze his hands to get the both of you back on track —

He jerks out of his reverie as you tug your hand away from his to clap, and it takes him a beat to realize that everyone else is clapping and cheering too. He blinks — the bride and groom are kissing, pulling apart as the music swells around them and they link hands to walk back down the aisle.

Sanji clears his throat and hurriedly gets up to clap as well, his eyes trailing the radiant smiles on both the newlyweds’ faces. Another sharp ache sings through him but he feels your hand in his again and he can’t tell if he wants to grip you tighter or pull away. They’d both hurt just as much, wouldn’t they?

“C’mon, let’s get inside — I wanna judge the catering with you,” you whisper, your breath tickling his cheek, and he knows without having to look that you’re standing on your tiptoes, your chin almost propped on his shoulder.

He fights down a bout of shivers and smiles, “My favorite part of any formal event, honestly.”

You laugh, “I know — me too.”

So you spend the entire dinner service whispering to each other about the food —

“God, this steak is so well done I think it just might dislocate my jaw —”

“What’s in this sauce?”

Sanji chews thoughtfully before making a face, “Dunno, but it’s got oregano.”

“Oh the cake looks good though.”

“Yeah, but we both know how much sugar and butter goes into that right?”

You nudge him with an elbow, “Weird, cause I’m pretty sure happiness is also made of sugar and butter.”

“Well for me, it’s always been…” but Sanji trails off, biting his tongue. No. He can’t say that — not now. Not here.

Because for him, happiness has always just been you.

So instead, he swallows passed his own mouthful of regrets and attempts a lopsided grin. And thankfully, your attention is drawn elsewhere by a loud peal of laughter before he has to make a shitty joke about happiness being a well-lit kitchen and a gas-lit stove.

You’re both at least a bottle of champagne deep when it finally happens, inevitable as a summer storm — your ex saunters up to you on the dance floor, sporting a grease-slick grin, eyeing you up and down like a piece of well-cut meat. Sanji is at the bar, grabbing more drinks and you’re catching a breath of fresh air just outside the dance hall.

“Well, well, well — look who it is.”

Sanji turns sharply at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing — Asshat. Fantastic. The bartender is putting the finishing touches on two custom cocktails but blinks, confused, as Sanji swipes both drinks out from the bar and casts him a hurried grin.

“Thanks mate, these look great,” Sanji raises the cocktail glasses at the bewildered bartender before hurrying off, slowing ever so slightly as he reaches you, straightening his spine and smoothing out his shoulders.

“Here, got them special-made for you,” he says, pressing the cocktail into your hand, cutting into something that Asshat is saying.

“Oh! Thanks — oh wow, this looks so good!” you beam up at him, taking a sip.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you were still hangin’ out with this guy,” Asshat says, hooking his thumbs into his belt-hoops and jutting out his chin.

You frown, pressing your lips, “Excuse me?”

Asshat scoffs, posturing, “I mean, when we broke up, it was cause o’him right? So I just thought you might’ve realized what a mistake that was and —”

Sanji barely has the time to feel offended before Asshat is gasping and stumbling back. You’d tossed the remainder of your drink straight into his face.

“What the —” Asshat sputters, his fists clenching, but quick as anything, Sanji swipes out a leg that catches him right in the shins and makes him stumble. In one fluid movement, Sanji pushes his own drink into your hand before reaching out the other arm to steady the now flailing Asshat, catching him around the shoulders.

“Whoa there! Seems like you’ve had a bit too much to drink, my friend!” he says, loud enough for the people around you to hear. He thumps Asshat on the back in a would-be kind gesture before tugging him close, still coughing, and hissing in his ear —

“Listen here, you asswipe — you’re gonna turn around and walk away and stay the fuck away from us for the rest of this wedding, you understand? I’ve got plenty more o’this for ya if you don’t, got it?”

Sanji scuffs his foot along the gravel-covered ground in a motion that could easily be mistaken as fidgeting, but you know better. And so, it seems, does Asshat, who scoffs and shoves Sanji off him with a glare, but after another second, straightens his drink-soaked jacket, turns, and stalks away.

You let out a long breath, swallowing hard.

“Hey darlin’… you alright?” Sanji turns and bends down to level his eyes with yours.

“Y-yeah — thanks — you didn’t need to —”

“Nah. Course I did — it’s why you invited me, right?” he allows himself a lopsided grin that borders on self-deprecating and you look up, eyes wide.

“No! I — that’s not —”

“It’s okay, love — I promise I’m not offended —” Sanji’s babbling, he knows he is — but he has to, because the alternative of letting you speak, of letting you confirm what he already knows to be true (that you’ve only ever seen him as a best friend, that you love him in all the ways except for the one way he wants you to, in the one way he loves you) is too much. He tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs up his shoulders, pulling them up towards his ears like armor.

And then you lean in and kiss him, and every single word he’s ever thought of saying just to fill the silence turns to mist and mornings on his tongue. His mind turns blissfully blank and when he regains consciousness (or has he? Because isn’t this the dream he’s dreamt every waking moment of his life for the past… however many years?), he thanks every god he can name that he feels his fingers in your hair, his other hand cupping the soft curve of your jaw. He tastes your uncertainty against his lips and presses in, hoping, praying that if he just kissed you hard enough you might understand.

When you pull away, he can’t help the satisfied purr that curls up his chest at the pinkness in your cheeks and the slightly glazed-over look in your eyes.

“O-oh — sorry I —”

Sanji shakes his head, leaning in to push his forehead against yours.

“Nah, nah, nah — if you tell me that was a mistake now I might just turn around and never speak to you ever again — because don’t you dare —”

You let out a helpless laugh, shaking your head as you reach up to cover his hands with yours. It’s only then that he realizes they’d been shaking. He swallows and he thinks he can taste every single morning after for the rest of his goddamn life in the whisper of your breath.

“It — it’s not, I wasn’t —” you close your eyes and Sanji holds you still, foreheads still pressed. Distantly, Sanji is aware that people are cheering, that more drinks are being poured, that the dance floor is probably a mess. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think he’ll care about anything else ever again — why would he? Now that he’s got you.

“Shh… take your time, love… we’ve got all the time in the world.”

He feels the relief take you, and then you’re falling into him, burying your face in the lapel of his suit jacket, probably smearing it with your foundation. Vaguely, Sanji considers framing it when he gets home.

“I’m… I’m sorry it took so long — I’m sorry I didn’t — that I wasn’t…” you curl your fist into the material of his shirt and thump him lightly on the chest, even as he laughs and wraps his arms around you.

“I know, darlin’… I know.” Sanji presses his lips into your hair and can’t help a smile.

Finally. Finally.

Your hair smells like citrus shampoo.

Finally.

“I thought about you every single day,” you admit, your voice small when you finally pull back to look at him again. He thinks there might be tears in your eyes, or maybe it’s just the starlight caught in the thick night sky of your lashes.

“Did you now?” he asks, fumbling for some semblance of normalcy amidst this night of revelations.

You nod, fervently, and god he wants to kiss you again. Briefly, he wonders if he should, if he’s allowed to now. Instead, he smiles and cocks his head.

“So? What changed?” and he can’t help the tiny note of hurt out of his voice, the slightest shiver of disbelief. After all, cynicism is a hard habit to break.

Especially after so many years of practice.

You shrug, sighing, “Nothing — everything. I mean — I’d always… but then I thought — you had your career as a chef and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life. But it —” you lick your lips, and Sanji nearly breaks when you tear your eyes away from his. He wants to force you back, to soak in the dark and bright of your gaze till he can see the world exactly as you see it.

“It’s always been you…” you say.

At this, Sanji does break. He tips your face towards him with a thumb and a forefinger and leans in, waiting for you to pull back, bracing for it. But you don’t — instead, you press in and close the space between you again, and again, and then again.

He wants to tell you — he needs to tell you that it’s always been you too, that there’s never been anyone else. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he’s known, even though both of you were children back then, and neither of you had any idea what “love” actually meant. He knew then, too.

“Love…” his voice trails off, but you smile, and he knows you know, knows that you can hear it in the rawness behind his voice, in the softness of his breath, in the way it shakes.

You make to kiss him again. But your lips hover half an inch from his and you stop. Sanji sighs.

“What — why’d you stop?”

Your smile is sweet and sharp, honey glinting on a razor’s edge, and he knows that he has you. And maybe that he’s always had you and was just too blind, too terrified, to see it.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s a metaphor.”

Sanji groans, “Fuck your metaphors.”

You bat your lashes, pulling an expression of mock affront onto your face.

“Well at least wine me and dine me first —”

Sanji licks his lips, “What’dyou think I’ve been trying to do for the last ten years?”

Your breath catches.

“Oh.”

Sanji smirks and kisses you again, slowly this time, languid and deep. Unhurried. He luxuriates in the way you go soft in his arms, in the way he can feel the gentle hitch of your breath as he runs his tongue along the edges of your teeth, coaxing you towards him, closer and closer and closer.

The hardest, angriest part of him wants to swallow you whole, bite down just to hear you hiss, to taste your blood on his tongue. To make you feel even a sliver of the pain he’d felt. He tamps it back down — there’s time for that later.

Instead, he forces himself to pull back and allows himself the satisfaction of watching you chase him, pursing your own lips with a bashful look away, your cheeks dark.

“So,” Sanji takes half a step back, puffing out his chest in the best imitation of a fuckboy at a wedding party, “wanna get outta here?”

You let out a helpless laugh, falling into his side. He lets the sound ring through him like so many silver bells.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He chuckles, looping an arm around your middle and leaning towards your ear.

“Your place, or mine?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure I still have a toothbrush at your place.”

Sanji hums, “You still have a whole drawer at my place.”

You smile up at him, open and happy and sincere, “Then… I guess that’s your answer then.”

#opla #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece live action #opla sanji #one piece netflix #one piece fluff #sanji opla #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x you #opla x reader #opla x you #opla fluff #x reader #floofy floof floof #scheduled post

651 notes · View notes

xo-cori · 7 months

Note

Ellie is sooooo into sneaking around and secretly fucking you in public but Abby is a complete opposite she just wants you all only because only her can hear and see you because you’re hers. Idk how I think Dina would be!!!

kissing and hope they caught us

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: the best way to prove that somebody is yours is to show them off.

warnings: smut (MDNI), exhibitionism, ellie being a cocky little shit

a/n: lord forgive me

All you can feel is her hands, everywhere.

Her fingers reach somewhere deep inside you as the palm of her hand covers your mouth, muffling all of your pretty noises only because she’s not sure how it’d sound to an outsider. After all, the two of you are cramped in an almost pitch black laundry room, the dim blue LED lights from the living room barely creeping in through the slits of the unlocked door. She’d been staring at you all night, though. She could bear not seeing you for a few minutes.

“Gotta be quiet,” Ellie mutters, “don’t want anyone walking in, do you?”

She expects to get some sort of reaction out of you, but you only clench down around her fingers at the thought of it. You grasp at the edge of the washing machine for some support, knees barely holding you up now, and Ellie doesn’t even try to hold in her laugh. “Oh, you would fuckin’ like that.”

You let out a low whine, though she can still hear it over the loud music just down the hallway. She moves her hand from your mouth so she can bring her lips to yours, working to swallow all of your moans that couldn’t be held back even if you tried. You weren’t trying, though. Not one bit. You gasp into the kiss as her fingers curl up, thumb pressing down onto your clit in a steady rhythm that has you seeing stars behind your eyelids. It’s embarrassing how close you are after just a few minutes alone with Ellie. She does unspeakable things to you, and seems to have a habit of making a mess out of you no matter where you are.

Bathrooms, closets, backseats. It’s a thrill that she chases, that gives her just as much pleasure as she gives you– if not more.

You haven’t been caught, yet, but you’re starting to think that it’s only a matter of time. Luck runs out quicker the more you abuse it.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, grabbing onto her hair in a vain attempt to ground yourself. Your heart pounds in your ears to the beat of the music and she swears she can feel it against her own chest.

“Remember what I said, yeah? Quiet.” Ellie says. Regardless, her thrusts have somehow gotten faster and the speed dizzies you. Your head falls forward into her shoulder, pressing your mouth into the fabric of her sweatshirt to cover up the sound of another whine– it’s her name, she realizes, still quite loud despite your efforts.

She fucks you through our orgasm until you reach down to grab her wrist, halting her thrusts, mumbling something about it being too much, and she finally pulls out of you. You keep yourself tucked safely in her shoulder as you try to catch your breath.

Ellie lets you rest for a moment and takes the opportunity to lick the wetness from her pruned fingers, suddenly wishing that she’d taken you to a more secure area so that she could’ve tasted you properly– a regret she finds herself having often when you find yourselves in these situations.

After a few long moments, she gently grabs your chin and makes you look up at her, just barely able to see her eyes through the darkness. “Damn. I’m ready to go home if you are.”

Though you normally would’ve felt bad for leaving a party so early, you can’t imagine anything here better than what awaits you back home (or, if Ellie’s feeling to impatient, right there in the car). “I’ve been ready since we got here,” you huff.

“Do you think Dina’s gonna be mad?” She asks, eyebrows furrowing with a fickle concern that could easily be erased.

“Jesse brought Fireball, Els. She’s probably not gonna remember she even had this party.” You reply, to which she hums in agreement. Your friend isn’t exactly known for being able to handle her liquor, and you’d both seen her drink quite a bit of it within the span of a few hours. If she isn’t hunched over a toilet bowl by now, she’s probably going to keep drinking until she is.

So, Ellie kneels down to help you pull your shorts back up as you readjust your shirt to look more presentable; to make it look like you’d been doing anything but getting fucked in a laundry room.

You know, deep down, the thought of anyone finding out is only turning you on more.

#the last of us #the last of us 2 #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut

639 notes · View notes

sunsetsturniolos · 3 months

Note

Oneshot: Matt confronting you after you start getting quiet. You’ve been getting insecure and you feel like you’re holding him back. This hot ass man is sweet as fuck tho!!!

talk to me - matt sturniolo x fem reader

a/n: took my own little twist on this :) sorry is there are any mistakes!

warnings: mentions of toxic childhood, not eating, hate comments, insecurities. if you are going through any of this please talk to someone! my inbox is always open if you need some to rant to 💞

as always my inbox is open for requests, but other than that, enjoy!

lots of love,

m💌💌💌

it had been about 2 weeks since you and the triplets have done anything together. every time they asked you to do something that involved getting ready nicely you shut them down. this wasn’t like you, normally you were a very bubbly and happy person who was always jumping at opportunities to do something fun, so you knew they were starting to get suspicious but you just brushed it off and moved on.

lately you’ve been feeling very insecure with yourself. you grew up in a toxic environment, which lead to you always having the thought in the back of your head that you weren’t good enough. recently, you’d been in some of the triplets videos, and the hate had been adding to this. you’d stopped eating as much, cutting down to a few snacks a day, maybe a whole meal if you were lucky. it’d been like this for a while, and while you hated doing this to yourself, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

a few days had passed and matt was starting to get worried. he knew you were struggling at the moment but he didn’t realise it was this bad. the triplets ordered canes for dinner last night, and while matt thought you ate your meal and didn’t finish because your stomach was hurting, he was wrong. he found your entire meal in the bin the next morning and suddenly everything made sense. he’s been trying to muster up the words and courage of what to say to you. he knew he had to do something, he couldn’t bare to see his beautiful girl going through this. he waited a while before finally going to your guys’ shared bedroom, already finding you sat on the bed, phone in hand. you had bags under your eyes. you’d lost a lot of weight, you weren’t yourself anymore.

“hey baby, can we talk?” matt stuttered,

“uh, yeah of course,” you hesitantly replied, these kind of conversations always made you nervous. “uhm i don’t really know how to start this, but i saw all of your food from last night in the trash, i thought you ate some of it?” matt asked.

shit. you thought.

“oh eh i just wasn’t that hungry thats all.” you quickly replied, hoping to end the conversation.

matt knew that was all bullshit.

“love, you and i both know that isn’t true,” he spoke.

oh you were screwed.

“talk to me baby, whats going on?” he carried on, adding a comforting hand to your thigh, you tensed under his touch.

tears started to well up in your eyes, you knew you couldn’t keep it in anymore, you had to tell him. “i’ve just been feeling a bit insecure recently, i mean you’ve seen the comments right? everyone thinks i’m fat!” you’d broken down by now. matt’s face was drained with guilt. “baby those comments don’t mean anything! your the most gorgeous girl i know! they’re just jealous, mean 12 year olds! please don’t let them affect you. everyone loves you so much, nick loves you, chris loves you, and i love you more than anything! this isn’t healthy, you need to eat.” matt was right. “i know, i just didn’t know what to do.” it was a lame excuse and you knew it, but you had nothing else to say. “please talk to me next time, you know i’m always here for you,” he reassured, you lazily nodded.

“i love you matt.” “i love you more baby, why don’t we go get ice cream from down the street, your favourite?” matt smiled. “that sounds great honey, thank you.” you blushed.

matt quickly kissed you forehead and grabbed his keys from the dresser. he held his hand out for you as you got up and interlocked fingers, making your way to the car.

what would you do without this boy.

tags: @sturnioloslurps @lacysturniolo @lewisroscoelove @55sturn @freshloveforthefit @lanai3mother

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets

350 notes · View notes

upthebluess · 4 months

Text

Opportunities (Arsenal wfc x teen reader) p1

In which you get the chance to train with the first team.

This was it. The opportunity you had been working for your whole life.

Well, not quite. You hadn’t made it yet, but this offer was one huge leap closer.

Your coaches had sat you down after your last training session of the week, and explained to you that next Wednesday evening you were invited to train with the first team. You eagerly accepted, trying to act as nonchalant as possible in that incredibly exciting moment.

Your U16s teammates were the first ones to know, proud smiles appearing on their faces as you told them outside the meeting room. It was a bittersweet moment for them though, because despite being happy for you, it meant another day had gone by with someone else excelling in front of them. You were now closer to professional football than anyone else in that room.

Regardless of the overwhelming enthusiasm that you felt towards the training, it also came with a profound amount of nerves and anxiety.

You expressed your apprehension to your parents, with resulted in them reassuring you that all you could do is your best. That didn’t really help though, because what if your best wasn’t good enough? What if you didn’t even play your best? What if the team got frustrated with you?

Wednesday came round quicker than you’d hoped, and you’d barely had enough time to put extra training minutes in due to a maths exam on Tuesday afternoon. The added stress of your inability to do maths certainly didn’t help, but after all football would always be there as an escape when you needed it.

After giving up on question 11 of your test, you sat with your head on the desk and imagined every possibly scenario that could come from the training. But after 45 gruelling minutes of overthinking, you came to the conclusion that the players were human too. They would make mistakes, they would miss shots and they would lose duels, just like you.

Besides, it was rare that U16 players got the chance to play at this level, so you must be good enough, right?

As you slipped your new boots on (courtesy of your dad when he heard about the news), you took a deep breath as you finished your second and final loop of your laces.

Jonas and a few other technical coaches had come and spoke to you shortly before, explaining that the training wouldn’t be an intense one and that you’d be introduced to everyone briefly before the session. He also congratulated you for the opportunity, and stated that he looked forward to seeing what you could create on the pitch.

The butterflies were back, only this time, you didn’t have any time to dwell on them.

The grass under your feet felt perfectly manicured as you took the taunting steps towards where most of the girls had begun to crowd. Thankfully, you had spotted a girl called Sophia, who you knew from playing up with the U18s a few weeks ago. At least you knew one person.

The rest of the girls made their way to the field very shortly after you arrived, and before you knew it you were stood in a team circle next to Sophia and the one and only Jen Beattie.

Jonas began to speak.

“Ok good morning everyone, today we have two of our academy girls joining us, Sophia from the 18s and Y/N from the 16s.” He began to gesture towards you as he announced your names, everyone giving you small smiles to say hello.

“We are going to go straight into the warm up now and then into small sided matches. Due to international break coming up, we are going to use this session to get a fresh look at everyone ahead of the second half of the season”. The circle was dismissed and the other coaches split you all into warm up groups and ordered lines behind rows of cones carefully placed into the ground.

Steph lead your group and the rest of you followed. You weaved in and out of the cones in different aerobic movements.

You were separated again for matches. You were playing 5 aside matches on what seemed to be 7 aside pitches. Now you were glad that you’d done all that fitness training a few months back.

You were on a team with Viv, Alessia, Amanda and Sabrina. There were two pitches with four teams playing, the remaining one team having a break on the side playing two touch.

Your team (the red bibs) would play against the blues first. Alessia was up top, Viv and you playing in midfield but you were tracking back to defend when necessary to help Amanda.

The whistle blew and the first 8 minute half begun. The blues took small touches to attempt to work their way around your structure, but their shot was a tame one and Sabrina easily rolled it out to you on the right.

Your touch was perfectly out your feet, and you began to push into the space in front of you. You knew you wouldn’t have long on the ball, so when Lina from the other team began to close you down, you fainted left but went right. You did a quick scan and instinctively put a perfectly weighted cross into the box and it landed practically perfectly onto Alessia’s head and into the net.

1-0.

A small and humble smile crawled onto your face as you turned around to run back to position. Alessia chased after you and offered a low high five, which you happily reciprocated. The ball was back at the centre, and before play re begun, Viv breathed out “good ball”.

The game remained at such a high intensity that you felt it was becoming really hard to keep up, but you were reluctant to let it show. You continued to take on players in duels if you felt it would help the team, but knowing to play the pass if more suitable.

The game ended 5-4 to the reds, you coming away with 2 assists: one to Alessia and one to Viv.

Your confidence continued to rise throughout the session due to the applause you received from your teammates and the shock from your opponents as you played pass after pass and won tackle after tackle.

In reality, you were not a stand out player compared to everyone else, but as a 15 year old training with some of the best players in the world, you were pretty damn good.

It felt like your teams turn to sub couldn’t come quick enough. As you made your way off the pitch you immediately grabbed your bottle and leaned against the fence to try catch your breath.

Sabrina and Amanda went straight to kicking a ball on the sidelines, whereas Viv and Alessia came over to where you stood and took a drink each. They exchanged a quick glance and a small bubble of awkwardness formed. Luckily, this was quickly popped with Alessia sparking a conversation. “What age group did you say you played?”

Thankfully you were now able to speak “I’m 15 so Im supposed to be playing U16s but if they don’t have enough players I fill in for the 18s or 21s” you responded with a small smile.

“You’re really good, better than I was when I was your age” Alessia replied. Your small smile grew into a large one. Viv was yet to properly speak to you, but you put it down to her notoriously introverted nature.

Alessia went to join in with 2 touch and you leant down to re tie your shoes. Viv stayed put with her bottle.

“Do you usually do little tournaments like this?” You broke the silence that was paining you.

“Not often. Only when we don’t have any matches upcoming that we need to be reserved for”

You only gave her an understanding nod, not really sure what else to say to that. Feeling a little defeated at her lack of interaction, you stood up to walk over to play with everyone else.

“Were you not nervous today? You seem to have fitted right in. Youth players usually seem a little more shaken than this” Finally, she speaks.

“Um yeah I was beforehand, but it sort of goes away when I play”

“I get that. When I was playing football at 15 I let my nerves get the better of me sometimes and it affected my performance, but you’re handling it really well” Viv gave you a really sincere smile as she spoke, and now it made sense.

Viv had been playing professional football from such a young age that she knew the troubles and baggage that came with it, she was looking out for you.

You all went on to play a heated game of two touch, Sabrina doing you dirty a few times with some dodgy passes practically to the ground, resulting in accusations and laughter.

Once it was your time to return to the pitch, you felt more content than the first time you step foot there. Viv and Alessia had actually made an effort to ask about your life, and you had begun to develop a decent link up on pitch as well.

Your final game was slightly rockier than the others though. The other team consisted of Katie, Vic, Gio, Kim and Manu.

Your body was tiring quickly. You were starting to feel less able to run at speed and less confident going in for tackles, resulting in your head going down and performance dipping.

The game ended 3-3 but you’d missed a few chances that could’ve won the game. You thought you could feel judging eyes pierce through your back as you walked back to grab your jumper prior to heading off the field.

Defying your expectations, you saw that Beth, Viv and Alessia had stood and waited for you before they exited the pitch.

“Well done today, kid. You were hard to get past” Beth said with a skip in her step and a tone of comfort in her voice.

“Thank you”

“Did you enjoy it?” Alessia asked.

“Yeah, definitely. I’m knackered now though and Jonas said this wasn’t even intense” you spoke with a small laugh.

“It’s never supposed to be but we are all so competitive that each game ends up like a World Cup final”. You noted how Beth was such an easy person to talk to, you felt at ease near her and you’d known her personally about 10 seconds.

“Will you be back tomorrow?” Alessia pondered. She seemed like such a lovely person you thought, she had encouraged you all night as you played and was always there to help you up when a tackle sent you to the floor unfairly.

“I’m not sure yet. Depends if I’m invited back and if my school will let me have another day off” you hummed, stopping your walk at the gate as your development coach called your name from the academy entrance.

“Oh you’re still at school. That makes me feel old” Viv breathed, bringing her hand to almost slap her own face.

“You will be. See you tomorrow Y/N” Beth responded, looping her arms around Alessia and Viv. All the girls gave you genuine smiles as you walked in opposite directions.

Today was a good day.

A/N

If this does well I might make it a part 2 or maybe even a story. Tips/requests are welcome, but I’m only comfortable doing platonic ones 🫶

Update: P2 UP NOW!

#woso x reader #arsenal wfc #beth mead #woso fanfics #woso community #vivianne miedema #katie mccabe #womens football #arsenal academy #arsenal #woso imagine #woso soccer

425 notes · View notes