#else has brushed me off and left me cold and I hate how I let it affect me. knowing I was not helped should be enough for me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oreosmama · 7 months

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Voicemails After the Breakup (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: I pity the fools who ignore this a/n bc WARNING, these are hcs without those stupid bullet points bc I have suddenly emotionally decided that they fucking suck. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy the light angst, for all those survivors who are still vibing in this fandom. Enjoy!

Word count: 1968

Tooru Oikawa:

“I’m totally and completely over you.”

That’s how the message starts.

Part of you wonders if you missed something, or accidentally skipped ahead. It’s so immediate, like Oikawa could barely wait for the beep before tearing into you. Like he needed to spit poison the second he had the chance.

And it’s one of those biting remarks that he wants to let fester—for a while, evidently; he doesn’t say anything else for another five minutes.

All that follows is a loud thud, like he’s thrown the phone away from him. And then footsteps, like he’s pacing, pacing, pacing back and forth, trying to think of more scathing words by burning holes into his carpet.

You hit a point where you think you should delete the message, maybe try and not care about whatever else he may or may not say after waiting for so long. You nibble on your nails and tug at the snarls in your hair. You pick four pieces of lint off your sweatshirt and seventeen more off the blanket draped over your lap, and you know how many there are because you line them up and count them afterwards as you wait, anxious, listening to your ex-boyfriend’s panting.

But a small rustle stirs at that five-minute mark, right against your ear. And a sniffle.

“Fine.” Oikawa’s voice cracks. “You win.”

You suck in a breath.

“What do you wanna hear? That I miss you?” He sniffles again, then scoffs bitterly. “That I miss you so fucking much I can’t sleep at night? That my bed is so fucking cold now I can’t even stomach sleeping in it? That every girl I see I automatically compare to you because I have to—I just fucking have to, all because she’s not you. And it makes me sick.”

His chuckle is sour and crackles harshly into your eardrum. “Am I stroking your ego enough, sweetheart? Because you win. You fucking win.

“I want you back.”

He sighs, and it sounds like he’s rubbing his forehead.

“I need you back.”

More beats pass in the silence. More sniffles, too, but stretched out, like he’s trying to steady his breathing.

You don’t think it’s helping him any. As you wipe the cuffs of your sweatshirt underneath your eyes, his voice returns, thoroughly raw and wounded. It squeaks out of him, barely above a whisper. His voice is so loud and tender, like he’s cradling the phone against his cheek.

Your hand against his warm cheek, curled over that pink skin, fingertips inches away from brushing through those soft strands, wiping tears. That’s what you wish it was.

“I didn’t know…”

A shaky breath. You hold yours in return.

“I didn’t know anything could hurt this bad.”

He swallows thickly.

“Those last few moments after you left—I thought that would be the worst of it. When you just walked out. And I keep seeing you do it, over and over and over, in my head like I can’t help but torture myself with it.

“I never knew it would get so much fucking worse.”

He whimpers a little, and your heart constricts unbearably. You tear at the damn thing buried underneath your sweatshirt, massaging the skin like it can soothe that phantom ache.

Oikawa must hate you. Maybe he hates you like you hate him: not because of the breakup, but because you can go for weeks without seeing him, holding him, kissing him, and everything still hurts like that last time.

“Thing is, I could’ve sworn you weren’t always in my life. It’s been two years. Only two years. And yet I can’t remember a damn thing before us. It feels like it was always us. Some fog, and then you, and then everything afterwards. Everything that was us.”

“And I hate that we had it so good, YN. I really do. Because missing you has been the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The frustration in his voice is familiar, a sickening sense of deja vu around it, and you latch a hand over your mouth at how vividly the image comes to you: Oikawa tearing his fingers through his hair, teeth gritted, cheeks flushed and shiny. Like when he lost a game, but different somehow.

Like this was something he didn’t even know he could lose.

He’s crumbling in a way he doesn’t know how to stop. That ugly part about having something wonderful and new—the moment it’s gone, what the hell are you supposed to do then?

“I just—Goddamnit, I can’t stand how badly it hurts anymore. I can’t,” he cries, desperate and aching, like his hand is fisting at his heart. You can hear the breath hitching in his throat, the hiccuping breaths after his sobs. You can hear every tear, feel it against your own cheeks, a soreness building at the front of your skull.

Too many tears. Your body is screaming at you, too many fucking tears.

But it’s him and he was yours and you were his.

Were.

You were his.

You had no idea how much that single thought could make your entire chest throb.

Oikawa inhales, and it makes your heart race against the thick wall caging it in, squeezing against it.

“I need to see you.”

He says the thought like it’s just slapped him across the face.

“I need to go see you, I—I have to.”

He mumbles to himself unsteadily, like he’s rocking back and forth. Debating, really, what he’s supposed to do, if he should do it at all, if it’s right after everything.

You should probably think he’s wrong.

You probably shouldn’t be curled over your phone, eyes wide, mouth open, not making a fucking peep. Waiting to hear what he’s going to do.

Maybe—just maybe—you shouldn’t be telling yourself that as the voicemail counts down to its final seconds, if he decides he’s not going to go to you, that you’ll definitely be going to him.

“I can’t just sit here. I can’t stay in here, without you. This isn’t right, I—”

Your breath hitches when you hear the frantic jingle of keys.

Then the sound of a door slamming.

His footsteps racing down his apartment’s stairwell.

A car engine revving.

“I need to see you.”

And the voicemail ends.

_________________________

Satori Tendou:

The message begins with a scoff of utter disbelief.

“Is that what we’re doing now?”

He pauses, almost like he thinks you’re going to respond.

“Heard from someone that I suddenly have syphilis. Yesterday, I had herpes though, so I guess I’m gonna have a tough week.”

A rustle like he’d shaking his head, like he can’t fucking believe it.

“And sure, okay, I figured that’s fine. You can say all that shit, and it won’t really stick because everyone knows it was us and that it’s you and you’re hurt.”

He sighs.

“But I saw it, sweetheart. I saw it.” The phone whines like he’s adjusting it against his face, and his voice is suddenly lower, darker.

“You don’t get to have it both ways, you know. You can’t spread all that shit—all those rumors about how shitty everything was and how we didn’t have anything going for us—and then turn around two days later wearing my sweatshirt. And you don’t get to wear that necklace I gave you for our anniversary and then run away from me the second you see me. That’s just not fair—you’re not playing fair anymore.”

Something swishes around like loose clothing, and a large huff greets your ear from what must be Tendou collapsing into a seat. When his little sounds become quieter, that relentless humming and the excitable clicks of his tongue against his teeth, you figure he must have put the phone on speaker and balanced it on his knee like he always did. Mid-conversation with Ushiwaka, he always used to spin his phone with those long fingers, or bounce the damn thing up and down against his frantic leg.

And the voicemail came through late last night, one of those dead hours where the only ones awake were Tendou, his scrambling thoughts, and the moths flitting back and forth outside his glowing window. He was always awake, always thinking, always doing something.

When you’d first broken up, after one long, wrenching fight where you’d both lost your voices and the frustration welled so high you just couldn’t breathe anymore, you’d been thankful for the idea of sleeping soundly for the first time in months.

You’d been wrong. You weren’t even sleeping anymore; just long, slow blinks where your phone screen would magically turn from 3:45 a.m. to 7:25 a.m., and in five minutes you’d have to get up and slug your way through another day.

Tendou had been the same. Those naturally wide eyes sagged under the pressure, and the curve of his spine had deepened like he’d been hauling the lack of sleep everywhere he went.

He must be sitting at his window now, at this moment in his message, pale skin aglow with wispy tendrils of moon. And he’s calling you. And he saw everything you’d done.

“Not fair. Not fair at all,” he whines, teasing. Always, always teasing, and if you hadn’t heard the slight cripple in his voice on the last word, you’d have gone on thinking he viewed it as one big joke.

You’re sure he heard the same thing you had—that he couldn’t keep acting like it was all fun and games. His usual, cat-like smile surely fell into a pert little frown, pale lips twisting like he’d sucked on a lemon.

No fun, no fun, no fun, he must have been thinking.

“Ya see, I thought we had a little deal,” Tendou drawls. “You’d talk smack and start dressing all pretty just to spite me, and then–and then I’d go ahead and delete all your pictures and put your name as ‘Bitch’ in my phone. And in, like, two weeks, we’d just be two ships, whoosh, whoosh, passing each other on the high seas of life, ya know?”

He breathes a ghost of a laugh.

“But, sweetheart, you look like shit.” He chuckles for real this time, and it’s disgustingly hollow. “I’m not even kidding. Like someone ran you over three times every morning—it’s horrible, really.”

You curl into yourself even further, and you’re smiling, grinning, lips peeling with how much you’ve cried and how little water you’ve drank after. You hate him; God, you hate how he can make you laugh and cry at the same time.

“But that’s okay, I’ll give you a pass just this once. I haven’t deleted your pictures yet, so I botched my end of the deal, too.” Tendou tsks his tongue.

“I won’t go easy on you, though. Here–here, how’s about this: for every day you stop wearing my clothes—because they look horrible on you, sweetheart; really, you’re painful to watch—I’ll delete one of your pictures, eh? That means, in about–uhhdivideby365daysinayearignoringleapyearbullshit–ah, seven years, I’ll have held up my end. S’that good with you?”

You lean your head back, letting the tears flood your hair as he chuckles to himself.

“Fuck it,” he says after a pause. Hopeless. Breathless. “Fuck it.” He must be gnawing on that pale lower lip, biting and nibbling until it bleeds. Because he lets something go to sigh again, and he must have smacked his head against the wall, and then you think he sniffled.

“I still want you. I’ve always wanted you. And I’m tired of missing you and wanting you. Doing both hurts too much.”

Tendou soughs.

“So I’m still your Chicken Tendy, baby. Always. And I’ll be here when you're ready, syphilis and all.”

#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyu x reader #satori x reader #oikawa tooru #tendou satori #satori tendou #tooru oikawa #haikyuu x reader angst #haikyuu headcanons

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r0ttenhearts · 10 months

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can I request a charac using reader who has a crush on them for their own benefits. while reader is left to wonder why chrc acts like a stranger to reader in public. eventually confronting chrc and them brushing it off as not noticing, being too busy. until reader eavesdropped to a convo with chrc's friend abt chrc just using reader. and reader leaves and ignores chrc for a while and chrc slowly starts missing reader's presence, only to see reader with someone else and confronting reader about it. of course charac won't get the happy ending 😈

(preferably scara, or childe-- if u write for him.)

feel free to ignore, I think I haven't expressed my req properly 😭😭.

also can I be 🌧️ anon ? :>

thanks 🌧️ anon for the request ^^ i hope you enjoy!

not your pet, anymore

scaramouche x reader

warnings: angst, arguments, insults, suggestive mentions

“you love me, right?”

“of course i do, scara. you mean so much to me.” you whispered, fingers running through his hair as he leaned against you. his thick eyelashes fluttered shut, hand on his chest as he lay against you.

the biting cold of fall couldn’t compare to the warmth you two shared, huddled together like this. his cheeks still tinted pink from the cold air, hands cold to the touch, it was just the way you liked him to be. cold enough for him to want to sit close to you and warm up.

touches were not a regular occurrence for scaramouche, he was normally dismissive, claiming he hated the closeness of skin on skin contact. but that wasn’t said when he’d tug at the end of your sweater, asking if he could feel more of your warmth. soft pants escaping your lips, his cold hands wandering, bodies on the cold floor of his bedroom. that’s how you’d spend your days after school.

but this time, with your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead as you finished up some of scaramouche’s homework he had passed on to you, something felt different. he was glued to his phone, an unusual smile gracing his lips as his thumbs danced across the device. you frowned, putting down your pen as you watched his face pull up in expressions you had rarely seen.

“who’re you talking to scara?”

“none of your business, (y/n).” he snapped, the smile he had been wearing for a few minutes dropping as his head snapped up to look at you. he sighed dramatically, getting up from the floor as he placed his phone down next to your hand, his face inches away from you.

“so damn nosy (y/n), when you should be doing my essay. are you bored? should i give you more work? or maybe i should let you suck me off, put your mouth to use. i think i like you better when you’re stuffing me in than anything you’ve ever said, anyway.” he sneered, enjoying the silence from you. a slight movement from you caused annoyance to bubbled up inside of him, his face unable to hide that itching feeling.

“you know, if you weren’t like this i’d be nicer to you, hell, maybe i’d love you. fat chance of that happening, i hate you most of the time. the only time i like your mouth open is when you’re making those pretty sounds for me, anything else is just muck.

why’re you so quiet, huh? are you gonna run off to your friends again? tell them how horrible i am? you think someone like collei will bother with you after you tell her what you do in here with me? how you open yourself to me? after swearing to her you’re done with me? you’re fucking something, (y/n). honestly, i’m getting sick of you. can you get the fuck out now?”

scaramouche’s phone buzzes, screen lighting up with a new text message. the both of you glance to it at the same time before he snatches it up, typing away a response as you gather your things without a word. biting your tongue was easier said then done, but you knew the argument would be worse if you said anything to him at all.

with a gentle click of scaramouche’s door, hours had gone by since you made your way home. a warm shower to rid of the nagging feeling at the pit of your stomach, along with the stickiness scaramouche had left you. you weren’t enjoying this, not one bit.

you figured you’d talk to him tomorrow in class, apologize for your inconveniences to him, and have it return to how it usually was after a fight. if you could call it one.

what you didn’t expect was to see scaramouche sitting by the green haired girl, haypasia, his usual seat empty as they sat side by side. quietly setting your things down, you still thought to say good morning to him, as a sign of peace.

standing from your seat, you meekly stood in front of him, hands wringing in front of you nervously. “good morning scara, and haypasia, i was wondering if—“

scaramouche never looked at you the whole time you were standing in front of him, his eyes glued on haypasia as her eyes bore into yours. a bitter smirk on haypasia’s face as she waved you off, scaramouche rolling his eyes before continuing whatever conversation they were having before you interrupted him.

a pain started to form in your chest. that nauseating prick that you’d feel every time you knew scaramouche was fooling around with other girls. cold sweat was all you felt as class droned on, your eyes never leaving the back of scaramouche’s head as his hand would slip underneath haypasia’s desk, sliding her pieces of paper that she would giggle at or turn red to after reading.

why is he being like this? should you have said something yesterday? would the satisfaction of knowing he practically owned you satisfy him enough to not be like this? these thoughts ran through your head until it was time for lunch, that bell being something of a savior as you were freed from seeing him there with her.

childe’s loud laughs caught your attention as he stood with kazuha, an anxious look on the white haired boys face as his eyes locked with yours for a moment. “i mean, just look at her! everyone knows scara is just using her. i heard, he’s been sleeping with (y/n) so he’s good enough to do it with that other girl, whatever her name is. you know her, right kazuha? whatdya think? did you get a piece of her yet too? or is it just scara sinking his claws in her, and something else!”

kazuha’s nervous laugh as childe punched his arm spoke volumes as you stood up, clutching the strap of your bag. kazuha noticed the tears in your eyes as you ran out of the classroom, you had heard every word that came out of childe’s mouth. excusing himself, he ran after you, his soft taps of his feet on the floor in comparison to your loud, cluttered footsteps.

scaramouche heard about this from childe, his demeanor changing once childe gave him the details on how kazuha ran after you. he didn’t know why it bothered him, but it did. no one else should be acknowledging his pet, the one that was so compliant and listened to everything he asked of you.

that’s how he saw you, and that’s all you were to him. right? that egging feeling in his chest as his messages to you were now left on seen more often than not. your cat keychain you hung on your bag that “reminded you of him” being replaced by a charm of a maple leaf, the same one kazuha had on his bag.

it bothered him. and he didn’t try to hide it. every time you’d sit next to kazuha instead of him, he’d grumble under his breath. a part of him ached to see you bare on his bedroom floor again, your fingers running through his hair, your gentle kisses on his forehead when you’d put him to bed when he was in a foul mood. he actually missed you.

but why were you so distant now? surely kazuha wasn’t giving you something he wasn’t, right? he couldn’t. you’d always declared your loyalty to scaramouche, never once breaking it.

then why did you admit you were in love with kazuha? your hands together in front of scaramouche as he scoffs, taking you by the wrist the second those words left your mouth.

“come again? i think i misheard you (y/n). you said you were in love with me just last month. so how do you even think you have feelings for that poet?” his voice wavered, eyes scanning across your face for a sign, a hint of remorse or love that you once held for him.

you shake your head, taking your hand away from scaramouche’s grip but he tightens it anyway. his eyes bore into yours, begging, pleading for it not to be true. for you to laugh it off and say you were kidding.

“he’s.. kind. it’s unlike something i’ve had before, and.. it feels good. it feels good to be wanted, scara. something i never felt with you.”

“something i never felt with you”, those words rung in his head as he laughs loudly, fat tears spilling as he pulls you into his chest. your hands going to push him away as he holds you tightly, laughing through his tears.

“you promised me (y/n), you promised you’d stay. you said you’d stay with me forever, love me forever! please don’t be like them, please don’t let that be a lie.”

“let me go, scara. please.” you whispered, feeling him shake his head as his hands tighten around you.

“n-no, no.. i can’t lose you too. archons, i can’t. what did childe say (y/n)? i promise he didn’t mean it, whatever he said isn’t true! i swear.. let’s just, go back to how it used to be, yeah? you can come over like you used to and- and we just don’t have to have sex. we can do things you like! i swear.. so please..”

his tears had rolled down, coating your neck as he wept. you’d never seen him in such a desperate state. his eyes looking into yours for a hint of what used to be there for him, but there wasn’t. more tears rolled down his cheeks as he let you go. he had fucked up. again. and this time he lost you, the one thing he never thought he’d lose.

“i’m sorry, scara. i’ve moved on. i think you have too with haypasia, you’ll be okay.” you say before picking up your bag, leaving him standing there with a wreck of feelings in his chest.

“you’re just like the rest.” he spat under his breath, harshly wiping at his eyes as the tears continued to flow. a hateful sentence meant to comfort no one but himself. he knew you weren’t at fault for it, he knew one day you’d want something more of him, something he’d be reluctant to give you. the day you finally escaped the clutches of the toxic relationship he had given you, the same day he had deemed the end of his new beginning.

“i never got my forever with you, like you promised. i can’t apologize for hating you for it.”

taglist: @sakiimeo @astrolomona @dearsumire @saeism @shoheartluv @0kauy @lelemnh @kaoriee @samarill

#genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #wanderer x reader #wanderer angst #scaramouche #scara x you #scaramouche x you #scaramouche angst #scaramouche x reader angst #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n

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aliidarling · 5 days

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using you

RICK GRIMES X fem!reader

nsfw content — scroll if uncomfortable!!

summary: rick takes his anger out on you after lori's death because he's a self projecting loser and wants u really bad

warnings: p in v, no foreplay, rough sex, pussy slapping, age gap, degradation, mean rick, fingering, anal threats LOL, self projecting rick, old lonely rick, sweetish rick at the end ig

btw thank u everyone for sending me ideas for male manipulator rick pt.2 :) I'm definitely gonna take these into thought and write sum

i wrote this in three sittings like a week apart so some parts might not match up...

nsfw content below!!

Rick hadn’t come up from the basement of the prison in almost two days. No one had seen him, leading everyone to question if he was even alive anymore.

The death of Lori had impacted him. The atmosphere was tense, and not many words had been spoken. No one wanted to go down to comfort Rick, not wanting to get snapped at. Angry Rick was something else.

Hershel was the one who recommended you to go down and talk to Rick. At first, you were against it, because why? Carl was his son, Glenn was the first one he met out of everyone, and Daryl was like his brother. There was no reason why you should. You were just one of the younger girls in the group.

“Because he has a soft spot for you, sweetheart.” Hershel says gently, sighing and rubbing his temple. Your brows furrow as you think about his words.

“What? No— Rick hates me,” You scoff.

Every time you had tried to talk to the man he’d order you around and be cold to you, never letting you breathe without getting a stupid scolding. It was walking on eggshells around him.

“No, no.” He chuckles, brushing his hands through his thin white hair. He sits up. “He cares about you in his own little way, okay? You’re the only one here he wouldn’t hurt. Not that he’d hurt anyone else— but…” He groans. “You know what I mean.”

You frown at him, picking at your hair. You reluctantly stand up, tossing your jacket on top of your shirt. “If I don’t come back in an hour, you know what happened.” You grumble dramatically.

He rolls his eyes and waves you off, giving you a little grateful smile.

A few minutes later, you were walking down the staircase into the boiler room, a frown painted onto your expression. You could hear angry muttering and the sound of metal clattering.

Just on your way here you had heard him yelling, you didn’t know at who. It worried you, was he already going crazy? Or was someone else down here with him?

As you walk inside the small, dark room, a messy-looking Rick comes into view. His hair was messy, his curls damp with sweat as he grumbled angrily to himself, leaning against a table.

He quickly turns at the sounds of your footsteps, hands on his hips as he narrows his eyes at your figure. What the hell were you doing here? Did no one get the message that he wanted to be left alone?

“What.” He huffs firmly, his body language cold and distant. He was always mean to you, but this just felt different, like he was a ticking time bomb. It made you shudder as you nervously picked at your hair, stepping closer.

“You’ve been down here for a while, Rick. Everyone’s getting worried.” You said softly, looking up at the older man through your lashes. It felt weird to be so nice and caring to him, he had just lost his wife— you felt bad. Horrible, even.

And a part of you made your guilt ten times stronger knowing you were still attracted to him throughout this whole mess. Even though he had pushed you away so many times, called you names, and ordered you around like a child, you felt connected to him. Like you wanted more than a simple friendship.

But the fact he was mourning his wife's death and all you could think was how good he looked with his shirt half-buttoned and his curls messy? God, you were a horrible person.

A dry chuckle leaves him, the sound echoing in the room, making you shiver. His demeaning attitude towards you has you shrinking, wanting the walls around you to swallow you whole as long as that meant you didn’t have to be alone in a room with him.

“So worried they call you down here out of everyone else?” He scoffs.

Ouch.

“I’m just trying to be here for you, you don’t have to be such a jackass.” You sneered at him.

Once the words left your mouth, you felt kinda bad. He was struggling with his wife’s death, and here you were being rude to him.

A small sigh left you as you stepped forward, hesitantly placing your palm on his bicep, trying to give him a little bit of comfort. It was the least you could do, right? You had managed to screw up your entire friendship with this man, but maybe you could turn it around starting… now?

As he feels your touch on his bicep, he turns to you quickly in response— almost as a reflex— and presses you against the table aggressively. A yelp leaves you as you find yourself being cornered by the large man, looking up at him in shock.

Never mind, jeez.

“You wanna be here for me?” He growled, his hand going to hold your throat, not squeezing but keeping it there as a warning not to cross him.

You give him a shaky nod, not knowing what to say or do that wouldn’t cause his temper to blow. It already blew.. But you knew what he was capable of, and you were scared of getting on his bad side more than you already were.

“Use your words.”

“Yeah, I wanna help you.” You press your lips together nervously, giving him a hesitant nod.

His eyes darken, looking you up and down and weighing the options. He hums lowly, his hands slowly wrapping around your waist, his fingertips pressing into your skin through your shirt.

“Huh.” He can’t help but smile at you, but not a sweet one. A mocking grin. You shuddered.

“How about you start off by bending over that desk then? Since you wanna be good for me so badly.” He laughs darkly, flipping you around smoothly and kicking the back of your knee.

You stumble slightly and find yourself bending over the edge of the desk, a huff leaving you as you flinch in surprise. Instinctively, you try and straighten yourself but he keeps one of his hands pressed on your lower back.

“What are you doing? You know this isn’t what I meant—“ You say breathlessly, not having the power to fight back for some odd reason. The position had you tingling between your legs, your stomach in knots and your mouth dry.

You felt ashamed to be so into this. He was coping in an extremely unhealthy manner— but could you even stop him if you tried? Did you want to?

He ignores your words and grasps the back of your jacket, pulling it off and leaving you in your spaghetti-strapped tank top. It was hot in the prison, could you blame yourself for dressing in thinner clothing?

“Always dressed like a fuckin’ slut, begging for attention from me. Think I don’t notice? Hmm? How you’re always nagging me and trying your damnest to spend time with me?” His words leave him harshly as he leans over to push your hair over your shoulder, leaving your back empty for him without any distractions.

“Don’t say that.” You mutter softly, eyes fluttering as you feel his breath brush over your skin. Goosebumps appeared on your smooth skin, lips pressing together to conceal the heavy exhale you wanted to release.

“Why? Because you know I’m right?” He chuckles dryly. His hands rub over your back, grabbing the end of your top and pulling it up to bunch over your chest. Your heart skips a beat and you try to pull away, but he only pulls you closer, pressing his crotch firmly against your butt. He sighs in relief at the friction, grinding subtly.

The next few minutes are him just grinding against you from behind, muttering a mean ‘shut up’ whenever you’d let out a noise. This was for him. He didn’t care about you— didn’t care that he was leaving you needy and aching, all he wanted was to relieve himself.

“Take your pants off.” He grumbles, leaning back just a few inches to unbuckle his belt. He smoothly pulls it out of his jean loops, and then unzips his fly and pulls his jeans down. He’s fast and aggressive, and soon enough his hard cock is pressing against his lower tummy, his tip red and throbbing.

You blink in surprise, but you try and process his words quickly. Okay. He wants your pants off. This was for him to feel better, just take your damn pants off, dumbass. Don’t make his day worse.

Shakily, you pull your pants down to your ankles, your butt in front of him with your panties hugging your curvy hips. He stares down at you, eyes narrowing at the sight of the damp spot on your panties.

“Slut.” He kicks your legs open with his foot before landing a harsh slap against your pussy, making you cry out. Your brows furrow as you try to suppress your noises as he keeps going at it, his rough palm delivers harsh strikes to your sensitive area.

“O-Ow— Rick!” You whine, wiggling your butt as the slaps have you growing more and more wet. This was so embarrassing!

“Had I known you like gettin’ that pussy slapped I would have done it a lot sooner, sweetie.” He coos mockingly, a low snicker leaving his throat. He parts his hand from your panties. His large fingers grasp into your panties and pull them to the side, nudging your legs further apart and aligning himself with you.

“Take a deep breath, baby.” He huffs before thrusting himself inside you with one stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Your body tenses immediately, eyes watering at the large stretch your insides felt at the intrusion.

You immediately let out a shaky cry, clawing at the table for something to hold onto as you try and adjust to the feeling. His girth was thick, ripping you apart. The lack of foreplay and prep had you wincing.

“Awww, did I hurt ya’? Poor thing, little hole must burn sooo much.” His words sounded so mean, his dark eyes gazing down at your figure. He scanned each inch of your body. Your arch, your hips, waist, your hair— it all looked so good. He wanted to ruin you.

You struggle to speak as you feel him sit nice and snug inside you, your sight going blurry. You whimper like a pathetic puppy into the desk, the cold steel making you cringe and squirm. If he was gonna force himself in your pussy, couldn’t he of at least done it somewhere more comfy?

“S-Screw you,” You groan lowly, your eyes already rolling back. And he hasn’t even started to move yet.

“Mhmm, s’okay sweet girl, I’ll get there.” He hushed you gently. Your doughy flesh is so soft to his rough palms, making him smile as he grips your waist a little tighter. He uses your waist to hold you down as he starts to slowly pull out, leaving just the tip before slamming himself back inside. Not even a rag in your mouth could stop the moan that leaves you, your body wincing in a mix of pain and pleasure.

The next few minutes are messy and full of whimpering and shushing, your body quivering as he keeps thrusting into your hole like there’s no tomorrow. You were just a stress relief for him at the moment— a pretty face with a tight cunt he could fuck for hours.

Yeah, he was mean to you even before he decided to fuck you in this boiler room, but that was only because he didn’t know how to handle his emotions around you! You were a sweet young girl with a cute face and a good rack of tits, always trying to talk to him when he had a wife and a son, could he even interact with you without getting scolded by Lori?

He let out a shaky grunt as he slams his hips into you over and over again, watching your perfect ass jiggle at the force he put into you. Your noises were perfect, he had spent probably hours imagining how you’d sound with him inside you. He couldn’t count the amount of times he had imagined you while he was in bed with Lori. He was a horrible husband, but he blamed you for it. You were the reason of his lack of loyalty, so he may as well punish you for it. You were pretty much asking for it the second you came downstairs with that pretty face.

“Fuck, fuck,” He groans, bending over to press his chest flush against your back and pressing himself against you. He wanted you to feel every damn inch of him, feel how deep he was inside your dumb little pussy and how he made you feel.

“You feel that? Huh? Feel how fuckin’ deep I am inside that needy pussy? Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart, must feel so good, right?” He shushes your cries as he manages to push his cock deeper, his fat head brushing against your sweet spot that has you clenching down.

“Mhm, feels so good.” You sniffle. He giggled lowly at how pathetic you sounded, almost feeling the urge to comfort you for a second.

He’s wanted this for so long. Half the reason why he was spiraling after Lori’s death was because of the agonizing guilt he felt for still fantasizing about you when he had a whole newborn waiting for him. But now he had you, and he was not gonna let you go, and even if you begged and cried— he had already sunk his claws(cock) deep inside you.

His hand reaches to the front of your neck to grasp it and pull you tighter against him, giving your neck a little squeeze. He hums in approval at how your body tightens around him, his hips picking up speed.

“Good, good, jus’ like that, good girl,” He mumbled, squeezing his hand around your neck just a tiny bit more, loving the expression that fell over your face. A few more long minutes of him inflicting a fast and rough pace that expresses his self-projecting hatred towards you pass, the both of you out of breath and sweating.

“Can I cum? Please?” You whisper shakily, a soft moan coming from you as his thrusts continue. Your lips quiver and struggle to choke out words as you feel him repeatedly slam into your g-spot, eyes watering from the pleasure and your legs going wobbly.

“Oh, oh please, Rick—!” A loud moan escapes your throat before you have time to hold it back. You had been stripped down to a cheap whore bent over a table, but you didn’t care, it felt so good.

He answers your question by squeezing your throat, reaching forward to rub your clit. You clenching down on him has him groaning and almost stuttering with his thrusts, brows furrowing as he starts to get a little sloppy with his rhythm.

Without wasting any time, you feel yourself cumming hard around his cock and spasming, crying out at the force. A few more tears slip as you whimper onto the table, shaky hands grasping at anything to hold onto it.

A crooked grin paints his face as he gazes down at your shaky figure, slowly pulling out and watching his cum drip out of your leaky hole.

He hums and gently picks you up and sits you down on top of the desk, parting your thighs open and pressing the cum back inside you. Your eyes widen slightly in shock as his large finger shoves itself back inside you, making you cry out at the sensitivity you felt.

“R-Rick,” You attempt to plead before he rudely shushes you, crumbling apart as he fingers you open brutally. More tears stream as he watches with an amused glint, taking in the sight of you crying as he shoves his fingers inside your pussy violently.

“You can take it, shush, be a good girl.” He mumbles, sliding them in and out smoothly without any stop, his other hand going to rub at your spent clit. He almost felt bad for you, but then he remembered you were the little brat making him think like an unloyal husband— and he resumed with his torture.

Once he has you coming apart on his fingers again, he slides them out of you and whistles meanly, smirking at his slick-covered fingers. He maintains eye contact with you as he brings them up to your mouth, tapping them against your lips.

“Please don’t.” You whine, trembling in embarrassment. Could this get any more humiliating?!

“Shut up and be a good fuck toy.” He grunts. You shrivel and slowly part your lips, taking his wet fingers and sucking gently, your eyes fluttering shut as you didn’t want to look him in the eye while doing this.

After cleaning his fingers, he parts from you and gives you a once over, scowling.

“You’re not too bad when you’re not being an annoying fuck, y’know. Maybe you should bend over for me more often.” He sniggers, pulling his jeans back up and buckling his belt back on. He tidies up his appearance and gives you a side-eye.

“I’m so telling Hershel.” You grumble, struggling to pull your pants back on with limping legs. He rolls his eyes and aggressively tugs them back on for you. You flinch at the force and almost stumble onto your ass but you eventually have your clothes back on you because of his help. You give him an awkward smile, and he just glares at you in return.

“…I guess you could say I did help you, right?” You grin sheepishly, before gasping softly as he pulls you in for a kiss. He mutters a small “Shut up,” against your lips before interlocking his with yours, his hands wrapping around your waist and pressing your body flush against his.

He parts slowly from you, a small saliva trail showing before dissolving mid-air. He stares down at you, before nudging you in the direction of the exit.

“Don’t tell anyone about this, kay? You tell a soul and I’ll shove it in your butt next time, brat.” He scoffs, turning away and gazing back at the wall like the depressed old man he is.

You can’t help but smile as you walk away.

Next time, huh?

You were a little delusional, but why the hell not?

#Spotify #rick grimes #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x reader #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead smut

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kainyte · 7 months

Text

you're all i have left ⎯ ft. childe angst bcs idk what else to do w/ my life pt. O1 : pt. O2

the fatui harbingers lead dangerous lives, including childe. with his newborn son, it's getting harder and harder to keep everyone safe. and as much as it pains him he might just have to leave.

notes : 1245 words of pure angst :DD

Ajax sighs, gently setting down the sleeping baby in the crib. His son. He has the same hair color as you, but he shares Ajax’s eyes. As the baby finally begins to settle, Ajax takes a step back.

The door is ajar, light from the hallway seeping in. You're asleep on your guys’ shared bed, arms curled against you chest.

Ajax misses when they were wrapped around him.

“I…” Ajax’s voice cracks, “I’m sorry,” he whispers to his son. Ajax knows the baby can’t understand, but he doesn’t care.

You’re a weak spot for him. Someone can easily exploit you to get to him. Or worse, someone could hurt you. Ajax can’t let that happen.

He kisses the baby on the head. Come morning, Ajax will be gone.

He’s about to leave the room quietly when he sees you stir in your sleep. You let out a soft sigh before settling back into sleep again.

Ajax is suddenly overwhelmed. He can’t just do this, he can’t just leave you here. He grabs the blanket from beside the crib and gently places it over your shoulders. He wants to wake you but he also wants what little rest you can get.

Ajax wants to stay.

But he can’t.

You slowly crack my eyes open, “Ajax? Why’re you up so late?” you move to the side of the bed, “Come back to bed.”

Archons. How can he do this. Tears well in the corner of his eyes, and he’s never been so thankful that darkness of the room hides them.

Ajax walks back to the bed. There’s something different about him.

Your eyes grow wide when you make a connection. He looks like he just woke up himself.

“I…” he pauses. He can’t tell you the truth. But he doesn’t want to lie to you. His eyes dart around the room as he struggles to come up with an excuse. “I saw that you were cold,” he lies.

You know. You’ve read him well enough. You know he’s lying but you know the truth would hurt more than the lie.

“You we’re going to leave?”

“Darling…” Ajax sighs, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into the crook of your neck. He’s holding you so close.

You’re everything he has, and the way he feels the tears that stream down your face and fall onto his shoulder makes Ajax’s resolve waver.

He doesn’t want to leave you.

He wants to stay.

But he can’t. He’s told himself that a million times tonight, his mind running endless scenarios of what can happen if his enemies ever find out about you. He loves you too much to stay.

Your grip on his shirt tightens, and you bury your face deeper into the crook in his neck. “Please…” Archons, you can barely see through your tears, “Please don’t leave. You’re all I have left.”

Ajax swallows hard. He hates the lies. He hates having to do this. His love for you is the biggest reason to stay.

Yet…

He has to.

Ajax looks you in the eyes.

Can you tell that something is wrong? Or do you believe the lie? Ajax is holding back tears as hard as he can. The words feel like rocks in his mouth. He hates himself for doing this but it has to be done, for both your safety and the sleeping child’s.

“Shhh,” he whispers in your ear, “go back to sleep.”

Your voice is wavering with every word you speak, “Not without you, please don’t to this to me, I cant…” Your voice trails off.

I can’t do this without you.

Ajax’s hands are shaking. He’s tries to hold back his tears but some have slipped free. He brushes cups his hands against your face.

You’re crying because of him, and it breaks his heart.

“Darling…” he replies softly, “listen to me. There are enemies trying to hurt me. They’re looking for me, not you. If I go then you can be safe our son can be safe.”

Ajax kisses the top of your head, “I love you. I always will but you’re not safe with me.”

“But it doesn’t matter! We can get through it… Ajax i can’t do this without you.” Your tears are freely streaming down my cheeks. Your voice breaks and you stare up at Ajax with a blurry vision.

You break Ajax. How you whisper to him, how desperate you look for him to just stay.

Your words do what Ajax’s resolve couldn’t. Ajax hugs you tightly, refusing to let go. He doesn’t want to do this, he doesn’t want to leave you.

But the world is a cruel place, and Ajax knows how much a burden he could be to you and your guys’ son.

The two of you are his everything.

Yet his words still taste like poison in his mouth.

Ajax kisses you. Slowly, gently, tasting every inch of your lips. His lips taste like salt from his tears, and the kiss holds no desire or lust.

Instead, his kisses are soft, sweet, and desperate.

He doesn’t want to go.

He refuses to.

But his kisses tell you that as much as his words refuse to, he might have to.

He knows the pain he’s about to cause, but he can’t bear causing more. So even if it physically hurts him to leave, he has to.

“I love you,” Ajax whispers. “I love you more than anything. I never want to leave you.”

“But, I have to.”

Ajax walks to the crib. He picks up the now crying baby and rocks him gently. He wipes away the baby’s tears as he continues speaking to the baby.

“Darling, listen to me, listen to me. You’re going to be okay, okay? I love you very very much, very very much and that will never change. Daddy will always love you, okay?”

He speaks through tears to his baby son. His words are strained but the emotion he feels is raw and honest.

Ajax looks back at you, wanting more than anything to kiss you one last time but knowing he would never be able to leave if he did.

With a final kiss on his son’s cheek, Ajax sets his baby down in the crib. He looks at you once more. There is a pleading in your eyes. In your eyes, he can see how much this is hurting you.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

He’s about to leave.

Ajax looks at you one last time. He swallows hard, taking in every last detail of you. Your eyes. The shape of your lips. Your hair. In the darkness of night, he can see the stains of tears against your cheeks.

He knows he won’t see you again for a very long time, and his heart is breaking. The pain of letting go and the pain of holding on are tearing him apart. But he has to go.

Ajax backs towards the door.

And right before he opens it, he turns.

“Goodbye, darling. I love you.”

Ajax’s voice is thick as if he’s trying to fight off tears once more. He won’t win this fight. He can never win this fight, not against you. Not against your eyes, your lips, your love for him and him for you.

He leaves, shutting the door after him. It isn’t long before you hear the sound of footsteps on grass and then silence.

He’s gone. And you’re on your own.

#💤 . . . ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 (᎑ ᎑)#💤 . . . library #childe #tartaglia #childe x reader #childe angst #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #i am emotionly unstable bcs of this btw #genshin impact childe #genshin impact imagines #no fluff only suffer :3 #原神

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sosa2imagines · 5 months

Text

I know where I belong. Part 1

----------------------------------------------------- Warning- Angst, This time we hate Steve 😭😂 ----------------------------------------------------- Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 ✅ -----------------------------------------------------

Thanos took a toll on all of you but thankfully everyone were back safe and sound. Everyone expect for Steve the love of your life. He had his dance and he did return back to you and his friends but something was off.

He was clearly not happy. You all thought maybe it is because of his journey to the past. For two days straight he was grumpy it went on onto the third day then on the fourth day things were different Steve came back to the tower in a happy mood. Everyone was curious as to why the captain is all of a sudden in such a good mood. That night he slept like a baby cuddling you and you were content that he is finally back to being normal. Oh how wrong you were! Since that day Steve would go out daily and come back with a satisfied grin that would last until he saw you. You were confused by his reaction but brushed it off not thinking much about it.

From the third week onwards he was rarely in the tower. Most of the times he would stay in his Brooklyn apartment. He barely spoke to you, he avoided you as much as possible. Nat was worried about you, she found it weird and you tried to cover it but she was having none of it. It killed you when he would talk to everyone except you, day by day you felt the distance between you both grow. Steve would sleep far on his side of the bed. His cold behavior was shattering you.

Having had enough you decided to visit his apartment. And that's when you found out why he was avoiding you, you were greeted by the view of Steve balls deep in Sharon who was making stupid weird noises and Steve moaning whatever he can. You were standing there numb tears flowing freely you gave them few more minutes before opening your mouth "are you done?"

Steve scrambled up to cover himself cursing while Sharon smirked pulling the sheets over herself. Steve cursed under his breath "Y/n it's not" "Don't you dare" "Let me explain y/n you we" "Explain" you cut him off gesturing to come straight to the point. "You were not supposed to find out like this" "Then how was I supposed to find out ROGERS!?" You yell at him making Steve flinch. "I was going to tell you" "How long Steve" "Y/n please" "HOW.LONG?" you spat each word. "After I came back, three days later I bumped into her and we just clicked, we talked about our past and, I'm sorry Y/n I'm in love with Sharon" You knew about their past, you also knew how she had left him after he had found her cheating on him on his bed. "She had cheated on you" you remind him voice small trying to control the urge to cry more. "She has changed I can feel it after all she is a Carter" You didn't say anything else just stood there staring at him and to his surprise you gave him a tight slap on the face even if it pained your hand. Sharon was quick to get up giving you a 'what the fuck' look and boy she had it coming you launched at her your fist colliding with her jaw and another breaking her nose. Once you enter the tower you walked as fast as you could in desperate need of air, hoping you wouldn't run into anyone as you dashed down the hall, your eyes trained on the floor, throat closing in on itself painfully, not noticing Tony looking at you in concern only for you to bump into Nat. “Y/n? what’s wrong?” You wanted to talk but you were struggling "He...he..How could he do this to me Nat?" You sob into her arms "Y/n calm down who did what?" Tony rushed to your side Nat looked at Wanda who was quick to read your mind she gasped "that bastard", thank god for her powers she made it easy for you, Wanda told them everything. "I should have known" Nat hissed. Tony and Sam exchanged looks. You were like a sister to Tony and Sam even though you were best friends and partners in pranks. Their blood was boiling not able to believe the golden boy lost his mind.

Wanda was hesitant to leave you alone in your old room but you begged her and she agreed not before making you promise that you won't do anything stupid. After she left you fell on the ground bringing your knees to your chest and you cried your heart out. All of your dreams crushed and thrown out the widow because all of a sudden he was in love with his ex.

Few days later when Bucky finally arrived from his vacation he was more than excited to see you, his bestfriend after Steve obviously. But when he entered the common room he was greeted with silence, he instantly knew something was wrong. He could feel the negative vibe. He saw Tony and Nat who were avoiding his gaze, he asked them if something happened but both were quiet not knowing how to tell him what his best friend did. But that did not stop Sam from opening his mouth, he told Bucky everything without any filter. Bucky was blanked he couldn't wrap his head around the fact Steve who was a shy kid would do something like this. Clenching and unclenching his fists Bucky was shaking. "Where is she?" "In her old room" Nat told him and he ran towards your room.

You were lost in your own world when someone knocked on your door and thank god you opened the door you were shocked eyes glossy and as soon as you whispered "Bucky" he was quick to hold you in his arms and you cried and cried in Bucky's protective hold.

----------------------------------------------------- (So here is the first part for the alternate version, I hope you guys like it and feedback as always is appreciated. Lots of love to you all, take care and enjoy 😊❤️) ----------------------------------------------------- Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 ✅ -----------------------------------------------------

#sebastian stan characters #chris evans characters #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader fluff #steve rogers angst #bucky barnes fluff

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pixiemunsons · 2 years

Text

la petite mort (em)

you have two deep, dark secrets; you've never had an orgasm, and you're in love with your best friend. eddie thinks he can rectify them both.

la petite mort; the sensation of post orgasm as likened to death

(3.7 k words) soft sex, f!receiving oral, reader has nipple piercings and a praise kink, first orgasm, best friends to lovers, protected sex, reader really likes eddie’s rings and tattoos (same girl), no use of y/n or reader descriptions, weed and alcohol use, eddie and reader are in love w each other but also share a single braincell, reader is eighteen eddie is nineteen, no spoilers

this is a combo of two requests which i loved so thank u anons!!

there was absolutely nothing to do in hawkins, indiana.

as you got older, you might reflect on your childhood and teen years and everything you overlooked while you were too busy hating your hometown. the woods that offered endless hours of exploring, the lake in which you swam most summers. the video shop. the arcade. even the shitty roller rink that played nothing but cheesy 70s love songs.

before then, though, right now, your free time was best spent doing exactly what you were doing right at that moment; smoking weed with your best friend.

and listening to him bitch about a girl who didn’t wanna fuck him.

‘i just don’t get what she doesn’t see in me! like, she said i was weird looking.’ his head was laying in your lap as you buried your fingers in his hair, playing with the surprisingly soft strands and weaving tiny braids.

‘i mean, i think i’m pretty hot!’ you looked down to his chocolate brown eyes, and shivered slightly at the way he was already looking up at you. your crush on eddie had been building for years, nurtured by the loving nature of your relationship, and by the time you realised you thought he was cute at sixteen you were already halfway in love with him. and yet, for some reason, here you were. eighteen years old, still pining after the one guy you wanted but couldn’t have whilst he complained that other girls didn’t like him. great.

‘i don’t think you’re the problem, eddie, i think she’s a stuck up bitch.’ you explained, reaching over to grasp the joint from his fingers. you’d both smoked two each already and were pretty high, but he’d insisted on finishing off what he’d skimmed from his supply and well, who were you to say no to some of rick’s primo shit?

’i think she needs to have a orgasm.’ your eyes widened as you choked on the smoke in your lungs, drawing half-breaths. eddie seemed totally nonplussed, as if he’d mentioned the weather or asked about a class of yours. bringing his left hand up to play with the sleeve of your t-shirt, the cold silver of his rings brushed against your arm, and you shivered once more. when eddie had started wearing rings the year before, it had pushed your crush into a whole new realm. they featured in every single fantasy you had; cold rings brushing your lips as he stuck his fingers into your mouth, imprints left behind after he smacked your ass, pushing up against you as he thrust his fingers deep into your-

‘you’re probably right. ‘m sure she’d benefit greatly from one.’ you laughed it off, stubbing the joint out in the ashtray by his bed and trying to play off just how horny you felt. talking about sex was something you had always avoided; the few boys you’d slept with had gotten you nowhere but disappointed, and admitting that you were eighteen and had yet to make yourself cum, let alone anyone else make you, was not a fact you were all too willing to give up. you looked down and let out a shaky breath as your mind ran away; eddie’s shirt had ridden down as he’d turned his face in your lap, and you could see the very edges of ink inside his collar. it made you feel hot under yours. eddie suited this new look so well, and you indulged in staring at him for a little while. you wondered what he looked like without his shirt, when all of his tattoos were exposed. you could feel your mind going hazy, the weed finally taking effect, and you couldn’t help but giggle softly at your own thoughts.

‘what’s s’ funny, peaches?’ he was peering up at you with an eyebrow arched, playing with the skin at the edge of your shirt sleeve, fingertips dangerously close to the curve of your chest.

‘nothin’, just thinking about what you said about her needing an orgasm.’

‘we could all benefit from one every now and again,’ he shrugged, and when you muttered an almost indecipherable ‘i bet,’ against your better judgement, you hoped he wouldn’t hear. but years of listening to shitty cassettes and teaching himself to play guitar from scratched records had given eddie an irritating superpower; he had fucking fantastic hearing.

‘what’d’you mean, “i bet?”,’ he sat up, making quote marks with his fingers around the last two words.

your skin erupted in goosebumps, and you suddenly became very interested in the hangnail on your left thumb, pulling the skin between your teeth. eddie was transfixed on the way your teeth pulled, how your tongue darted out to swipe against the skin there, and he almost forgot that you’d been talking about until you spoke up again.

‘’s not a big deal,’ you whispered. ‘just never happened for me, ya know?’ you were looking hopefully up at him, and then it clicked.

‘you’re fuckin' kidding? no one’s ever made you cum?!’ he almost shouted the last words, and you buried your face in your hands. you could feel your skin getting hot and you knew you couldn’t look him in the eye as you spoke.

‘i-i’ve never done it with someone. or on my own, really, either. i just can’t let go enough to get there, it’s not a big deal.’

eddie wanted to reach out and take you in his hands, smooth your hair back and soothe your embarrassment.

‘it’s nothing to be ashamed of babe, but wow. i thought everyone had had an orgasm.’ you scowled up at his words.

‘way to make me feel better, eds.’ his eyes widened, apologising instantly.

‘i’m sorry babe, i didn’t mean it like that. look, i’m sorry, i’m just surprised is all. you’ve like… been with people, right?’

you frowned again. ‘yeah, a couple, but they’ve never got me there. they think they have, course, but i dunno… never seemed that important. i enjoy sex without it.’

eddie could feel himself going bright red, and he didn’t know what it was; the weed? talking about how much you enjoy sex? the knowledge you’d never had an orgasm? or the fact that you’d had enough sex with other people to know what you liked? he shook his head. of course you’d had sex, you were fucking gorgeous. anyone who you wanted to fuck was lucky. so lucky. so how had they had the audacity to not make you cum? that should be, like, a fucking crime. the more he thought about it, the more irritated he got, until finally, he snapped.

‘how about i make you cum?’

you had reached to take a sip of eddie’s beer, and at his words had spat it out all over yourself. your black shirt was soaked through and he really wished he hadn’t noticed how clingy it was, because it was making this a lot harder.

‘what- what the fuck did you just say?’ you sputtered, and eddie steeled himself, wiping his sweaty hands on his ripped jeans.

‘i mean, we don’t have to fuck. you don’t gotta do anything to me, you don’t even gotta do this. i just think we all deserve to have a really fucking good orgasm, and you said you can’t let loose enough to do it, and i thought maybe because we’re so close you’d trust me to-‘

you flung your arms around him, chests pressed together, and nuzzled your face into his chest. looking up at him with those doe eyes eddie couldn’t resist (he always said yes to you very quickly when you flashed them, mostly because they gave him a hard-on every time without fail) you fluttered your eyelashes, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth (it made him even harder whenever you did that) and sighing.

‘you’d really do that for me, eds?’ you spoke quietly, nervously. really, it was very sweet of him to offer. he wasn’t going to get much out of this - at least, he didn’t expect anything from it - and he’d asked so kindly, so sweetly…

‘of course i’d do that for you, baby,’ he brushed a piece of hair out of your eyes, cupping your face. a new tension had swept the room; you were both so excited the air was crackling. ‘are you gonna let me? need you to tell me you want this. also, i’ve caught you staring at the rings, i know you wanna know what they feel like.’

you hit his arm as he laughed, then leant forward to press your forehead to him. you heard him gulp, and you were glad for the weed you’d smoked, or you knew the two of you would’ve been too nervous to move on each other like this.

‘i’d like that very much, eds,’ you breathed, and that was enough for him.

he pushed you down gently by the shoulders, laying on top of you propped up on his elbows with his legs between yours.

‘you’re so goddamn beautiful,’ he whispered, and then his lips were on yours.

his lips were chapped but he tasted vaguely of the strawberry chapstick he had stolen borrowed from you months back. one of his hands was resting on your lower back, the other on your face as he guided you in the kiss. it was unlike any other kiss you’d had before; they’d always been rushed, tongue down your throat, sloppy. but eddie was taking his time with you, his lips moving languidly over yours, being careful to relax you into it. you almost wished he’d go faster, harder, but your mind was already cloudy from the weed and the feeling of his mouth on yours, and you wondered if it was always meant to feel like this with boys. his tongue probed at your lips carefully, not pushing, and when you finally let it in you felt the hand on your back slip to your hip, squeezing gently. you nipped gently at his bottom lip, and the moan that he pushed into your mouth in response sent you dizzy. suddenly, there was more; he was hitching your left thigh over his hip, creating delicious friction between you and he was tugging at your lip, tongue flicking over the back of your teeth. you couldn’t help the way your hips were moving of their own accord against him, it felt like you were floating above your own body.

eddie’s lips left yours to press against your neck, nipping and teasing down your throat, and you were sure you’d have marks tomorrow.

‘y’can leave marks, eds,’ you whimpered, tugging on his hair in response to a particularly hard bite, ‘can wear a turtleneck to school tomorrow, s’okay.’ he chuckled against your neck, moving his mouth up to a spot just below your ear.

‘don’t want you to hide ‘em, babe.’ before you could ask what he meant, he was sinking his teeth into the spot where his lips sat, a place you knew no jumper or jacket would hide, and you felt almost delirious at the idea of people seeing it tomorrow.

‘can i take your shirt off, baby?’ he asked, bringing you back to earth.

‘god, yeah,’ you sat up slightly to wriggle out of it, ‘take the bra too, shit,’ you moaned, and eddie started to laugh before he got your bra off and the laugh turned to a choke, then a cough, and he felt like he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.

because you, his beautiful, kind, goody-two-shoes to everyone else, grade-a student best friend had your nipples pierced. and he was looking right at them.

‘fuckin’ hell babe, where’ve you been hiding these?’ he was practically drooling imagining how the silver bars would feel in his mouth, and if he hadn’t been fully hard before he was rock solid now.

‘got ‘em done a year ago, thought they’d look pretty.’ you were whimpering, squirming in the firm grasp he now held on your waist, and you cried out when he reached up to pinch one. ‘they’re real sensitive, fuck, feels like so much.’ eddie flicked out his tongue, bathing your left nipple in his spit before blowing cold air over it, making you tremble and moan out his name.

‘they’re very pretty, baby. i mean, i knew your tits were like, wow, but jesus christ i could spend every day the rest of my life playing with these.’ you laughed shakily, head thrown back for him to scatter kisses down your neck and chest.

‘anyone seen them before?’ he muttered, and you almost thought he didn’t want you to hear him.

‘no, just - shit eddie, i can’t concentrate when you’re playin’ with ‘em like that - just you, no one else.’ you swore you could see his eyes darken as he looked up at you, then latched onto your left nipple with a renewed vigour that had you arching your back, desperate for some friction. one big hand pushed your hips back down, sending a spark of electricity down your back as he manhandled you.

‘stop it, babe, gonna need you to wait there a minute, be a good girl f’me.’

what the fuck

what the FUCK

you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips, and your eyes widened instantly, clapping a hand over your mouth. eddie stilled his movements, raising his head so he was eye level with you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. he pulled your hand from your mouth, observing the way your eyes had widened and how your cheek felt hot under his hand.

‘did you like it when i called you a good girl?’ he cocked his head to the side, and from the way you looked up at him, with such desperation in your eyes, he knew he had his answer.

‘no one’s ever told you what a good job you do for them, have they?’ he cooed, smiling down at you as you shook your head.

‘tsk. well that just won’t do, will it baby? i think you deserve to be shown what a fantastic job you’re doing for me, how good you feel in my hands. want me to show you what a good girl you’re being, give you a present?’

you had died and gone to heaven. that’s the only answer to this. eddie was on top of you, feeding into your most desperate of fantasies, telling you he was about to reward you for being a good girl for him. either that or you were dreaming. because he was pulling your jeans down, kissing down your thighs and telling you how cute your panties were, how wet you were for him and oh-

well, you definitely weren’t imagining that. because you hadn’t known what it felt like when someone put their tongue on you, when they licked a stripe from your hole up to your clit and lapped at you so messily you could hear it, but you did now, so surely you couldn’t be imagining that-

‘baby, you okay? you with me?’ eddie’s voice snapped you back to reality, and you looked down to see your best friend, cheeks pink and led between your legs with his shirt off and a slick on his face; you on his face, and you couldn’t help but reach down, wind your fingers into his hair and tug him back to where he had been.

‘eager, are we?’ you could almost hear the smile on his face, and you knew he was trying so hard to keep up the cocky act, but you could see the way his hips were making minuscule movements against the bed and his fingers were going to leave bruises on your thighs with how hard he was gripping them.

‘shut up, you’re loving it too,’ you gasped, and in retaliation he seemed to ramp it up. suddenly, he was two fingers deep in your sopping wet pussy, head thrown back once more as he pressed them into the plush of your inner walls, right against a spot that made your mouth dry and your thoughts spin.

‘eddie, fuck,’ you cried out, and his other hand rubbed your thigh reassuringly. you imagined he would’ve spoken to you in reassurance had his teeth not been wrapped around your clit, tugging just the right way.

‘eddie, think it’s comin’, you were slurring now, and to eddie’s delight, when he looked up at you, you were toying with one of your puffy nipples, bucking yourself up towards him. his fingers were cramping up and his jaw hurt but he wouldn’t, couldn’t stop now, not when you were half riding his face. he lifted up, using his left hand to rub circles on your clit as his other hand fucked into you.

‘relax, sweetheart, you’re doing so good for me, y’can do it baby, just need to let go for me, eddie’s got you, such a beautiful good girl f’me…’ eddie was talking away, bringing you closer and closer to the precipice until you fell over the edge of it, body turning to jelly. you couldn’t believe you’d been so happy to miss out on this all this time, so willing to do this to boys and not have them do it back. eddie was working you through it, kissing your cheeks and your nose and your eyelids and your mouth, letting you ride the aftershocks on his hand.

if you’d been more with it you’d have noticed how he was looking at you; like you were the only woman on earth, like he could never get enough of this, like he’d never leave this bed if it meant he could make you do that over and over and over until you were crying, begging, putty in his hands. you felt like it was lasting forever, riding wave after wave, until finally your whole body relaxed, flopping down against eddie’s bed.

‘so, sweetheart, how was it?’ eddie asked, almost nervous now that the energy in the room had dissipated a little. you were still naked and panting, making no effort to cover yourself up, which he supposed was a good thing; you still felt comfortable around him, didn’t regret what you’d let him do to you. he had half-expected you to leave after, too much for you to do that with him, so when you rolled over and kissed him like your life depended on it? a welcome surprise. even more so when you reached for his painfully hard cock.

‘whoa, baby, you don’t gotta just because i did,’ he sputtered, and you brushed him off, leaning up so you were on all fours above him. you were pouting. fucking pouting.

‘but i wanna. don’t wanna suck you off, not this time at least, ‘m too tired,’ he almost asked what you meant by this time before you interrupted him once more.

‘want you to fuck me, though, eds. please.’

he really hadn’t been expecting to get anything out of tonight other than spank bank material. he was more than happy to get you off then never speak about it again, if that was what you wanted. of course, what he really wanted was to marry you and fuck at least two kids into you, buy a house and live in the suburbs. but for now he’d settle for making you cum on his tongue and maybe, when you weren’t looking, steal your panties. but eddie munson was never one to say no to you, especially not when you were naked and begging, so he pulled his pants and boxers down in one movement before rolling himself on top of you.

your hand went to his cock instantly, rubbing a thumb over the leaking tip.

‘christ, eds, were you just gonna deal with this later?’ you asked, eyebrows pulling together in a concerned expression. ‘you’d have exploded.’

he let out a laugh, kissing your neck as he fumbled about in his bedside drawer. he was naked except for the guitar pick necklace resting on his chest, and you leant up to kiss it, hand still sliding up and down his cock.

‘fuck babe, i was just gonna beat it when you’d gone home,’ he gasped, batting your hand away so that he could roll the condom he’d fished up on himself. he looked down into your eyes, kissing you gently. ‘i’m not gonna last long.’

‘don’t care, just need you.’ you mumbled back, pulling him down into another kiss as he slid into you.

it felt like he was made for you. no painful stretch, no disappointment. he fit in you so perfectly you could’ve sworn this was exactly how it was always supposed to be; you and eddie, eddie and you. every other time with every other boy felt so totally redundant you had no idea why you’d even bothered when you could’ve been doing this the whole time. and when eddie moved, it was more like lovemaking than fucking. his left hand was intertwined with your right on the pillow, his other holding your face as he looked into your eyes. yours was pressed against his hip, guiding him into you gently as you writhed under him.

‘i’ve wanted this a really long time, sweetheart,’ he spoke quietly, honestly, and it was a far cry from the cocky eddie you’d come to know over the years. he seemed genuine. vulnerable. you kissed him again then, trying to pour everything you wanted to say into it as his hips rocked faster against yours.

‘shh, i know eddie, i know,’ you kissed his chest again, his necklace dangling in your face, and you used it as leverage to pull his face back to yours.

‘come for me, baby, c’mon,’ you were whispering against his lips, pressing your hips up against him for the new angle, and he came with a gasp of your name, gripping the back of your neck and kissing you.

when he pulled out, snapping off the condom, he pulled you onto his chest without a word. he was red and sweaty, hair frizzy and lips swollen, and you had never been so in love in your whole life. you traced the tattoo on his chest, new to your eyes, and you hoped you’d get to see it every day.

‘you didn’t get to come again.’

‘that’s okay, sweetheart. you’ll get as many chances as you want.’

‘you mean it?’

‘always, when it comes to you.’

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #Eddie munson smut #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson fanfic #eddiemunson #stranger things s4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things season 4

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kirimoochi · 9 months

Text

meet me in amsterdam.

₊˚ ᗢ alhaitham x gn!reader, modern au.

⤷ based on the song, "meet me in amsterdam" by rini.

"I would sail across the world, row this boat from dusk til dawn."

Al-Haitham glances over at your figure, watching as you skipped rocks against the lake. The two of you abandoned your senior prom in favor of star gazing. He was dressed in a simple black tuxedo, with you wearing a rather fanciful garment. In true Al-Haitham fashion, he keeps a pair of headphones covering his ears. You, on the other hand, were dressed reasonably well tonight. The jewelry that hangs from your neck shimmered underneath the moon’s light. He resists the urge to reach out with his fingers to tuck your hair behind your ear.

The two of you originally came with different partners. Al-Haitham had an inkling to ask you to the dance but had been beaten by the Inazuman transfer student. So he ended up settling on taking Nilou. It must have been fate that led to both your partners leaving you to converse with one another. The silver-haired man doesn’t know whether or not he should pump up his fist in satisfaction, or give you sympathy. On one hand, he was glad that your partner walked off to talk to Nilou. On the other hand, he hated the heartbroken look plastered across your face when you were left alone on the dance floor.

And so here you were. He grabbed you by the hand, ignoring your protests, and dragged you to a place that no other teenager would be on a Saturday night. You joked to him that he might be taking you to a secluded location to murder you, to which he replied with a snarky comment about how no one in this world would consider taking you out. Not because of the low percentages of murder in your hometown, but because he’d be the person protecting you. It’s cheesy, he has to admit. He read a couple of romance novels to prepare himself for a possible relationship with you, so he figured that being that knight in fairy tales might help him come off as heroic or reliable.

He notes the way your frown turns into a small smile. Did he do something right? He dares to hope so. After knowing you for the majority of high school, he has yet to figure out whether or not you enjoyed his presence. Sure, you might say you tolerate him, but he just wishes that you could just admit it directly. Say that you liked to be with him. Say that you liked going out with him on Wednesdays. Say that you liked walking back home with him. He only wants a few words of appreciation and desire from you. Anything could do. As long as it's from you.

You don’t say much other than a few words about how the stars look bright tonight. You press your lips together, your eyes beginning to brim with tears as you try to tear your thoughts away from the misfortunes of prom. Al-Haitham can see the way you press your hand against the lower half of your face, your lips shivering at the cold weather.

He nonchalantly takes off his jacket and pulls it over your shoulders. You stare at him with a surprised reaction, something that pulls him closer to you. He holds himself back from doing anything more and sighs under his breath, brushing aside a few strands of his slightly messy hair. You squeeze the edges of his jacket, holding it close to you. Al-Haitham calls your name. He points to a few stars dancing above the clouds, dragging your eyes to where his fingers landed. He takes the time to describe to you a few of the constellations.

You can see the way his lips curve into a smile as his eyes glimmer at the prospect of sharing new information with you. You try not to laugh in the middle of his explanations. He’s always been so passionate about knowledge. Always digging his nose into books when everyone else would rather party or watch movies. He’s the most exciting friend you had and one that you can’t explain your feelings for. He keeps you grounded. Pulling you back when you start to wander a little too far.

Slowly easing yourself closer to his figure, you let your pinkies touch. He says nothing when they do. His ears grow slightly hot but he stays focused on talking about the Northstar. Saying nothing more to him, you lean your head against his shoulder, humming in contentment as his voice drowns out the worries in your head. Prom wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Perhaps you should have gone with him from the very beginning.

"There ain't no sunshine, no sunshine, where I was before."

Kaveh groans and reaches out to open Al-Haitham’s door, seeing that the room was pitch dark except for the small night light illuminating his restless figure. It was the same night light you’d gifted him when he was a high schooler, believing that it might scare away the restless nightmares that haunted him. It was a childish reason, Al-Haitham claims, he’s not some child that needs light because he’s afraid of the darkness. Yet he uses it every night, even now, when he’s in college. Not that you would know.

Kaveh scratches the back of his neck, leaning against the frame of the door, complaining about the tossing and turning he could hear from the other room. He wants to scold the younger man, but when he sees the way tears prickle at the edges of his eyes, he can’t seem to say anything. He presses his lips together as the silver-haired man pulls himself together. He’s in an upright sitting position with his back against the headboard, his arm held up in an attempt to shield his tears from the blond.

This was the first time the older man saw him so defensive. He’s always been high in the clouds, too far out of reach for him to believe that he could love. It’s absurd, he understands. Al-Haitham is human. He’s made of the same components as himself. He has flesh and blood running through him. A heart that beats a little too quickly to be caught. And being human comes with complicated feelings that twist and churn in his stomach.

Kaveh restrains himself from letting out a sigh when Al-Haitham wipes away at the corner of his eye, narrowing his eyes towards his roommate. He tries to snap at him with a snarky comment in an attempt to push him away. However, the blond knows him. Perhaps a little more than Al-Haitham gives him credit for. He pushes through the invisible force that drives him away, his figure resting at the end of his bed as he finally lets go of the breath he’s holding.

He knows about you through photos. Pictures Al-Haitham left on his phone. He wasn’t one to snoop yet when he saw your glimmering smile on the front of his wallpaper, it screamed to him. His curiosity got the better of him and he wanted to know who this mysterious person was. Don’t blame Kaveh for remembering Al-Haitham’s password. It was a straight line down the keypad: 2580852. Anyone could remember it. And he needs to change it asap if he doesn’t want Kaveh to see anything unnecessary.

He figures that something occurred between the two of you for him to act so vulnerable. Al-Haitham was the kind of person who would hide his feelings underneath snotty comments and a stoic face. But underneath he can be just as vulnerable as the next person. He has feelings and emotions that he is confused by. It stings and he doesn’t know what he could do to fix it. Reading books about his symptoms only leads him to a path of more confusion and utter nonsense. Had the circumstances been different, Kaveh would have mocked him for being a hopeless romantic.

Yet now was not the time. Even if he did theoretically hate Al-Haitham for his messy habits around the house, his incapability to clean up after himself, and the way he toss and turned in bed causing Kaveh to wake up in the middle of the night, he couldn’t leave him like this. So he asks him if he’s okay. His eyes eyeing him from the side as Al-Haitham lets out a scoff, shrugging it off. Very typical of him.

There was a moment of silence between the two. Neither of them talked. They only rested their shoulders, letting them slump over. Al-Haitham turns to the night light, his teal irises flickering from its existence to Kaveh’s. He figures that it was time to tell him about the darkness that plagues his mind. It would be better than clogging it up in every nook and cranny of his mind. And perhaps Kaveh might sympathize a little. Maybe he’d grow a bit more quiet around the house. And stopped nagging him about the books piling up on the coffee table.

Al-Haitham has long acknowledged his strange feelings for you, his childhood friend. He knows that the quickening beat of his heart was something more than simple jitters. The way you reached out to brush aside his hair left flickers of flames on his pale skin. Your smile that brightens up his day is the first thing he thinks of when he wakes up in the morning. And the lingering stare he has on his toothbrush makes him wonder what it would be like to have yours beside his.

But at last, it seemed as if you slipped through the cracks of his fingers. His inability to express to you his true feelings was left burning on the tip of his tongue. Even if he was a brutally straightforward man, he had his weaknesses. And one of those was you.

"Won't you come closer, let it take over."

Al-Haitham stares at you, frozen in his steps. You're at the same late that night of prom. This time at least, you had a few more layers of clothing to keep you warm from tonight's weather. In your hand was a small pebble that you twirled between your fingers. The tips of your nails glide against the rough surface before flicking your wrist, sending it flying a couple of steps.

It's been a while since he last saw you. You had moved away to a different college. He attended one further south, while you left for the north. You started a new life with a different job. Met a couple of new friends from Mondstadt. Your appearance was mainly the same, except for a few loose strands that fell to the sides of your cheeks.

You've seen each other a couple of times on your feeds. Al-Haitham has the habit of liking whatever you post. He hardly ever comments. If the day seemed right, he would drop a few lines asking about the book you're reading in the corner of the photo. But never something in an attempt to reconnect with you. He figured that you've grown too far out of his reach. And that perhaps it would be better if he allowed you to live your life without you.

It stung him for the majority of college. You and he called frequently in freshman year. However, it quickly diminished as the years went on. Your conversations diverged from asking him about his day to talking about your new coworkers and how you'll contact him when you get your new schedule. He tries to keep a smile on his face and nods to everything you say. He figures that his feelings for you might stay unrequited for a while. Maybe you knew from the start and didn't want to tell him, out of fear that you might embarrass him.

He’s unsure of what he should do at this moment. Should he reach out? Should he sit next to you? Could you still talk like the old days? He wrestles with the thoughts in his head, not noticing the way you turn your head to him, offering him the familiar kind-hearted smile he’s grown too fond of. He nervously sits beside you, his body still as a board while you chuckle.

He’s grown quite a bit since you last saw him in person. He was a little shorter when he was in high school. Now that you were older, he towered over you. He was always a quiet man, you knew this to be true. Despite being close friends for the majority of high school and a bit beyond, he never shared more than he had to. His face, while stoic, always implied that he was holding back something. His tongue was lodged further back than other people.

But that doesn’t matter now, does it? The two of you are older now. More mature than ever. The past mistakes you’ve created started to shape who you were today. And that person came back to him.

"I don't need anything, I just want you."

He remembers the feeling of your skin against him. When you pulled him by his fingers, guiding him through the open area of street markets. Older couples would stand outside their vendors, waving to people with the smell of freshly cooked food. Al-Haitham doesn’t say anything as you skipped around. The smile on his face says more than enough. Your eyes sparkled in excitement when you point to the mangos being sold in a cup. You had your signature bright smile, the one that would light up the entire world when it grows dark. It was the same familiar feeling he received whenever he turns on his childish nightlight.

He’s quiet when you notice an older stall, too busy being distracted by the warmth of your hand to make any rational decisions regarding your spending habits. You opened your wallet to pour out a couple of coins, handing it to the street vendor. In a matter of seconds, you hold up a few skewers towards Al-Haitham, gesturing for him to try the food. He drops a couple of snarky words towards you, but it was quickly silenced when you pushed the food against his lips. He lets out a sigh. He reaches out to hold your hand, the same one gripping the skewer, and settles by taking a bite.

You try to ignore the way your face grows a bit warmer when he chews slowly. His expression which had been neutral, morphed into enjoyment. He comments on the tenderness and how savory it was. You’ve always known that he liked meat but seeing him grow so close to you made you wonder what else you knew. He takes one more bite before pushing it back towards you, his eyes softening as he smiles. “You should try it as well,” he says, taking your other free hand and interlacing your fingers.

For some reason, you start to feel a bit nervous. You don’t say anything when he holds up the stick as you eat. The sparkle in your eyes continues to shine radiantly as you finish the rest of the food. A smile still spread across your face. Now, he’s the one pulling you to another vendor, pointing at a few items and ordering them for the two of you to try. He wants you to experience some of his favorites as well.

He doesn’t know how to describe this scene in words. Watching you enjoy a meal in front of him, your hands reaching out to feed him on the occasion sent waves of butterflies in his stomach. He questions if this was the start of something new for your relationship. Friends, close friends, distant friends, and back around to friends. Will you see something different in him if he continued to hint at his feelings? Could you feel his pulse whenever you hold his hand? Can you feel how quickly it beats for you?

He wants to express to you the words that have been lodged in his throat. The same ones that Kaveh wishes so desperately he could spill. Roommate or not, he says that this game of cat and mouse has gone on for too long. It was so blatantly obvious that he was still in love with you. So hopelessly, devoted to you, even when you’re so far out of reach sometimes.

He understands that he isn’t the first person people think of when it comes to romance. But he wants you to see him for who he was. Someone that could open up the world for you. Someone that would sail the seas just to embrace you underneath the moonlight. Someone who dreams of you every night, hoping that you might catch his lingering touches that sting like an ember.

He says something to you in another language. I like you, it translates. It causes you to perk up in interest as you lean your head against the palm of your hand. He blinks a few times before clearing his throat, rolling his eyes as you tease him about what he said. You poke and prodded at his cheek, pouting every time he gives you a dry answer. He would eventually shut you up by holding up a fork, shoving the rest of your food in your mouth.

He ignores your cries and moans, begging him to give you a translation of what he says. He only pushes your head away and squeezes your hand a little tighter. He hopes that you can’t see the way his pale skin reflects the red tint of apples.

“If there is a next time, meet me in Amsterdam”

He sucks in a deep breath when he pushes you down onto the sofa. Your eyes stare deep into his as your fingers glide across his skin. He tries not to whimper when you press against his rose-tinted lips. Your presence to him was addicting. It kept pulling him back and forth like an ocean wave. You’ve caught him in your net and he can’t find the power to break himself free.

Kaveh was out of the house today and the silver-haired man jumped at the opportunity to bring you over. It’s been months since you’ve first reconnected with him. Months spent so generously with the man before you. After spending a week in town, you decided to extend your say just a little bit longer. You wanted to explore this strange flame that had developed in your chest. And it would lead you here. Your back against the soft cushions as Al-Haitham pinned you down.

Oh, how he longed for this moment. For him to stare deep into your eyes with nothing more but fondness for you. For him to finally share how he feels without having to look over his shoulder. For him to finally tell you that he truly, wholeheartedly, loves you with everything he has. He wants to finally tell you that he’s been waiting since high school to hold your hand like this. Waiting throughout college to kiss you. Dreaming all this time to be yours.

He leans his forehead against yours, breathing in your scent as you smile. Was this the breaking of the dam? The flood that is your relationship, coming to crash against this wall? The tension that had been mimicking the push and pull of a rope was beginning to snap. And he could feel nothing except explosions at the pit of his stomach as he pressed his lips against yours. He holds onto you tightly, scared of losing you one more time.

But you stay. You bury your fingers in his hair, bringing him closer to you. He rested his weight against your stomach, fingers clutching onto your waist. Kocham Cię, he says when he breaks away from you. Air becomes short when he goes back to snatching your lips. Anh yêu em, he whispers against your skin. Seni seviyorum. He squeezes your waist. Eu te amo. He tilts his head just a little to capture you once more. Ya lyublyu tebya. He pulls away from you with heavy breaths.

He wants you to know how much he loves you. He wants you to see the number of times he’s held back on kissing you each time you smile. You were like the sun to him. So warm and out of reach at times, yet he desired you nonetheless. He waited years for this moment. And he wants nothing more than to indulge. If you would have him, he would give you everything. He would give you everything he is, and so much more.

Ich liebe dich, he kisses the side of your cheek. Wǒ ài nǐ, he kisses your forehead. Te quiero, he kisses your nose. You let out a few giggles as you attempt to push him away. Wrapping your legs around him, you keep him steady. His body is squished against yours. You begin to melt in his arms, his lips still kissing the surface of your skin. He looks into your eyes with those beautiful teal irises.

I love you, he finally says.

And you would reply with, I love you too.

#₊˚ ᗢ kirimoochi #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #alhaitham #al haitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #al haitham x reader

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angelst4re · 1 year

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ash I'm begging you to write some type of Jace angst, like where he regects the reader after she confesses, or maybe stands her up when they're supposed to go on a date or they go to the club and he's being all touchy with her because he's drunk and then the next morning he just doesn't remember and doesn't care too

just some kind of angst </33

eeeee i loved this idea!!!! and i just had to write it because jace <33

Last Night- Jace (Wayland? Herondale?) x Reader

summary: they say drunk words are sober thoughts, and jace has a lot to confess after a few drinks

warnings: none!! :) (unless alcohol counts!!)

notes: i don't know if i like this :( i had a few different ideas of how i could've written this and i wish i did it differently now... but i could always make up for it with a part 2...? ;)

Everybody knew Jace wasn’t one for relationships. He hated to show his vulnerable side and he would never see the same girl more than once. You were quite upset by this, as you had liked him for quite a while now. Every time you thought he was going to open up to you and let you in, he would turn cold again, shutting his feelings off. Although it did upset you, you understood why he acted like this, given his childhood.

It was finally Saturday night, and you and Izzy were getting ready to go out. The two of you would go out to clubs together every week, it would usually end in her bringing a man back to her bedroom and you going to bed even earlier than you would do on any other night. But tonight, Alec and Jace had been asking about joining the both of you, and although Izzy was reluctant at first, she gave in, and the four of you headed to the club.

Not long after getting in, Izzy had already found someone to kill time with, and Alec was pleasantly surprised to have bumped into Magnus, which left you and Jace by the bar, and he was already on his second drink.

“Do you want another one?” Jace asked, pointing to your empty glass.

“No, I shouldn't drink too much tonight. But I might have a coke?”

Jace nodded, and he ordered another drink for himself too. You looked cautiously at him as he handed you yours, thanking him, before sighing and looking for Isabelle.

“Does this happen every time?” Jace asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Izzy finds somebody and leaves you by yourself?”

“Usually,” you answer, “or sometimes I’ll find someone too.”

After months of heartache, you wondered if you could win Jace over by making him jealous. He’s used to girls falling at his feet for him, so you decided to test it out.

“Oh yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, “well you’re stuck with me tonight.”

“But what if a cute girl comes up to you? Surely I wouldn’t be stuck with you all night.”

Jace chuckled, waiting a moment before responding, as if he was hesitant to answer.

“I’m afraid to break it to you, but I don’t think any girl in this world is cuter than you.”

You were shocked by those words, but you tried not to take much notice of what he said as he was clearly drunk.

“Jace, you’re drunk. You don’t mean that.” You said, a smile creeping onto your lips as you shook your head.

“I do mean it,” he told you, “I’ve always thought you were the most gorgeous- the most beautiful-”

“Jace!” You interrupted him, “stop talking!” You chuckled, reaching for your drink.

“I’m sorry I don’t tell you enough. I’m just worried about how you’d react, I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” He said, leaning towards you and brushing a piece of hair away from your face, before letting his hand rest on your waist, causing your heart to skip a beat.

“Jace…” You mumble, not knowing what else to say, “then why have you always turned me down? Why do you-”

“Because you’re too good for me, and I know you know it.”

You’re truly lost for words, so you pull him in for a hug, which lasted longer than you would’ve thought. His touch, his smell, the beating of his heart, it was all so overwhelming, and you knew that tomorrow, when he was sober, he would forget everything he told you, and it would all go back to normal.

“Jace, you’re drunk. I’m taking you home, okay? I’ll text Alec and Izzy when we get back but I think you need to go to bed before you do something you’ll regret.”

“But we’ve only been here for like 20 minutes, just one more drink?”

“Jace, no. We’ve been here for an hour now and you clearly can’t handle your alcohol. We’re going back.”

He gave in eventually, sighing as he took your hand and led you through the crowd of people and towards the exit.

The walk back to the institute wasn’t long, but it felt like hours due to the awkward silence between the two of you. You wondered whether Jace has finally realised what he had said in the club, that he had begun to sober up, but as he spoke again, it was clear that he was still rather intoxicated.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.” You replied, looking up from the ground to the gorgeous man beside you.

“So I was wondering… because- I’ll be honest with you, I haven’t been feeling the best lately- I mean, mentally, everything at the institute has began to really-”

“Jace,” you gave him a sweet smile, an apology for interrupting him, “what do you want to ask me?”

“I was going to ask if I could… maybe… sleep with you tonight? Wait no! No! I mean, stay with you, in your room. I just don’t want to be alone tonight, that’s why I went out with you, Izzy and Alec, I was hoping maybe I would find someone to take home with me.”

You chuckled slightly as you approached the doors to the institute, looking at Jace with soft eyes. You had always felt empathetic towards Jace, Izzy had her brother (Alec), his friend Clary had her childhood best friend (Simon), and he had nobody, just like you.

“Of course you can, Jace. Of course.”

When you got to your room, you did a quick bit of tidying whilst Jace changed in his room. By the time he had knocked on your door, you hoped your room looked okay, not that he would even take notice of it in the state he was in.

You told Jace to make himself comfortable whilst you went to the bathroom, changed and washed your face. When you returned, Jace was sitting up in bed reading the book that you kept on your bedside table.

“Do you like reading?” You asked as you sat beside him on your side of the bed.

“Only if the book sounds interesting.”

“Does that one sound interesting?”

“Not really,” he answered truthfully, “I don’t quite get it.”

You chuckled at this once more, and Jace put the book back down.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll explain it to you in the morning. I’m going to turn the light off now, try and get some sleep, okay.”

“Yeah…” He mumbled sleepily, getting comfortable as you switched the lamp off, “goodnight, I love you.”

“Goodnight, Jace.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

When you woke up the next morning, the bed was empty and cold. You had wondered whether you dreamt the whole thing, but when you saw your book wasn’t in its usual place you knew it had all actually happened.

You got up and got yourself ready to go down for breakfast. When you got there, you noticed Jace was the only one in the kitchen, eating a slice of toast.

“Good morning.” You smiled, reaching for a bowl as you were going to have cereal this morning.

“Mrnng.” Jace grunted.

“Hungover?” You laughed as he nodded his head, “god, Jace, do you remember what happened last night?”

His eyes widened in fear as he shook his head.

“No, but I woke up in your bed. We didn’t… do anything… did we?”

“No, we didn’t have sex, Jace. But you did say you loved me, and told me I’m the most gorgeous, beautiful girl in the world, although that wasn’t exactly what you said, I shut you up before you could finish your sentence.”

“Oh.” He said, clearly not bothered as he continued eating his toast.

“Oh? Jace, is that all you have to say about that?” You were quite confused now, and also angry. You knew you shouldn’t have taken what he said seriously.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me whether you meant those things!” You raised your voice, feeling your eyes begin to well up with tears.

“I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was saying.” He scoffed, putting his plate by the sink when he had finished.

“Jace-”

“Please, my head hurts, I don’t want to talk about this now, okay? Maybe later but not now. Sorry.”

#jace wayland #jace herondale #jamie campbell bower #jamie bower #the mortal instruments #jace wayland x reader #jace herondale x reader #jamie bower x reader #jamie campbell bower x reader #shadowhunters

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elizabarnes · 7 months

Text

“Siren..”

Sirenbur x oc

Prologue

Waking up and stretching my arms way above my head, I throw the covers off my body over in the left direction. I get off my bed, stand up, and walk into my bathroom, rubbing my eyes as I look at myself in the mirror. “Can’t believe I’m still living in this shitty apartment..” I mutter to myself. I brush my teeth and comb out my midnight blue hair before walking back into my bedroom and over to my closet, getting out my work uniform and changing into it quickly. My work attire consisted of a short, tan pencil skirt and a white button-up which I normally pair with black heels and a long coat since Brighton is always cold. I grab my phone and purse, shove my phone into my purse, and walk out the door, making my way to the elevator. My neighbor, Wilbur, steps out of his apartment looking extremely tired. He’s wearing a black button-up with navy dress trousers that are paired with a coat and Doc Martens. ‘He looks nice today.’ I think to myself. “Hey, Wilbur,” I say as he stands beside me. “Oh, hello, Eliza. How have you been this week?” He asks as we both wait for the elevator which takes such a long time since we live on the top floor. “I’ve been good, how’ve you been?” I continue the conversation, trying to be polite. Wilbur has always seemed like such a strange character. He doesn’t talk to people unless he’s seen their faces many times and never under any circumstances lets anyone into his apartment. He freaks out when you ask! “I’ve uh- I’ve been okay.” He responds. Once the elevator finally gets to our floor and saves me from this awkward situation we both go on and Wilbur presses ‘L’. “So, uh- Eliza. You’ve never really told me where you work.” “Oh! I work at the police station, I’m a detective. Right now we’re trying to figure out what the hell Siren is planning.” I say a sigh of annoyance leaves my lips at the end of my sentence. “Y’know, maybe he’s just- taking a break?” “Well, I’m also kinda obsessed with Siren… I am just dying to know what he looks like under the mask!” I say as I imagine what he looks like under that damn mask. I get snapped out of my thoughts when I hear Wilbur’s soft giggles, I turn to look at him to be met with the softest, cutest face I have ever seen. Before I can say anything else I hear the ding which means we’ve made it to the lobby floor. Me and Wilbur walk out of the elevator and walk opposite ways since he parks in the parking garage and I walk to work. “Cya later, Will!” I shout as I walk backward, seeing him hold up the peace sign as he walks out into the parking garage. I walk out of my apartment complex and walk to work which is only a few minutes away. Once I arrive I prepare myself for the dickheads that are my colleagues before walking into the building. I walk in and go straight to my office, ignoring all the stairs that everyone is giving me. “Oh! Eliza, you finally decide to show up. You’re gonna have to work later tonight.” My boss, Sebastian says. “What! Why?!” I snap. I hate having to work late! “Because we need you to try and get more evidence.” “Evidence from where?! And for what? We only have one concern right now and that’s to find out what Siren is planning!” I yell. Sebastian only has one care in the world and that’s money. As long as he has money he’s fine. And that’s probably why I’m still living in my shitty-ass apartment. “Whatever. I still want you to work late. Hang out with Greg or something. I don’t care.” He says as he walks out of my office. I groan and close the door. He loves torturing me! Guess I better make the most of this.

11 p.m. rolls around way too fast. I only have to stay in this stupid office for what, two more hours? Sebastian told me before he left that I just had to stay until 1 a.m. Then I can leave. I pick up the tennis ball on my desk and throw it up, catching it in my left hand and doing the same, throwing it with one hand and catching it with the other. I do that for about 30 minutes before I get bored. I pull out my phone and turn on a movie. This should last until 1. And I was right. 1 a.m. rolls around at the end of the movie and I get up, putting my phone back in my purse and walking out of the building. As I’m about to walk past an alleyway I get pulled into it, a large hand slapping over my mouth. The person pins me to the brick wall, their hand still on my mouth. I look at the person in shock. ‘I-is that…’ “Siren..?” I whisper into his hand. The blue fabric that covers his eyes looks so perfect with his curly brown hair. I came to notice that he hasn’t shaved since there’s stubble on his chin and under his nose. He takes his hand away from my mouth, a smirk forming on his face. “Hello, little one.” He mutters. “W-what… What are you and the syndicate planning?” Is the first thing I say to him, it’s the only thing that comes to mind. “Oh, you’ll have to work for that answer, sweetheart.” He says. “W-what do you mean?” “I mean… work for me, sexually…” He whispers into my ear, his hot breath on my neck. A shiver runs down my spine. Why does he have to be so hot? I gulp, nodding hesitantly. “I mean, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna force you to do anything.” “N-no! I want to!” I shout out at him, immediately clamping a hand over my mouth out of pure embarrassment. “Good girl.” He whispers in my ear one last time before nipping at my neck.

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot smut #wilbur x y/n #wilbur mcyt #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x reader smut #wilburfromlvjy #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur smut #wilbur x reader #qsmp wilbur #wilbur x you #wilbur fanart #wilbur #wilbur dream smp #sirenbur #sirenbur smut #clinicbur

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headkiss · 1 year

Note

hiii could you maybe write about reader babysitting and best friend!steve coming over to help? and it’s all fluffy and mutual pining

hiii! i sure can, hope u like it :D | 0.6k of fluff !

“Help me.”

Your voice is panicked through the phone and Steve thinks the worst, thinks something might’ve happened to you so he’s quick to reply, “what’s wrong?”

“I think the kid hates me.”

“The kid?”

“The one I’m babysitting today, Steve. Remember?” He’s about to answer you but you cut him off, rambling into the phone, “anyway I’m pretty sure he hates me and I’m gonna lose this job. Help me, please.”

Steve’s initial worry fades as he realizes you’re seriously only concerned about your babysitting dilemma, nothing else. It’s natural for him to worry about you, just like it was natural for you to call him out of all of your friends.

You are best friends, after all. That may or may not harbour more than friendly feelings for each other.

“You want me to come over there and help you babysit?”

“Yes, Steve. Please, kids love you.”

“Yeah, okay. What’s the address, honey?”

You rattle it off and he writes it down, saying a quick bye and a promise to be there soon before hanging up. He’s not sure why he agreed so quickly to give up his night to help you. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he’d accept any scrap of time with you.

It’s no surprise to you that the only person you thought to call was Steve. He’s surprisingly good with kids, and his number is the only one you’ve cared enough to memorize. And, maybe it’s because you wanted to see him.

Maybe.

You’re trying to decide what movie to put on when Steve knocks at the door. You know it’s him because he always knocks the same way, two quick knocks, and two more that are further apart. The kid is sitting on the couch when you make your way over to greet Steve.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he smiles, his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold outside and his eyes pretty as ever.

“Thank you for coming. Seriously,” you usher him inside.

“‘Course. Anything for you, honey.” He means it.

You try not to think about that too much after he’s said it. If you do, you’ll get caught up in daydreaming what it would be like if you let yourself tell him how you felt, if he felt the same. What it would be like to be with him for real.

As expected, Steve gets along with the kid right away, and though you wish you had the same ability, it brings a smile to your face. Under all of the things people think of Steve, the sweetest boy you’ve ever known is hidden. For your eyes only, almost.

Bedtime eventually comes, and it’s a much easier task with Steve around. Though, for you, most things are easier when he’s around. Like his presence is enough to make you feel better, no matter the situation.

You and Steve are left to yourselves, and you can’t help but to admire him. The way his hair sits, fluffy with a strand falling on his forehead. The way his eyelashes kiss the skin beneath his eyes when he blinks.

“You’re staring,” he points out.

“Sorry. You’re pretty, that's all.” You’re not sure why you admitted it then. It’s not like he hasn’t caught you staring before, and usually you’d brush it off with a joke, a change of subject.

“Pretty, huh?” He hopes his teasing tone distracts from the way he blushes.

“Um. Yeah.”

“You’re pretty, too. By the way.”

He suddenly seems to be sitting much closer to you than before and you’re too aware of it. His leg brushing yours, his hand reaching to tuck your hair behind your ear.

Then, like you’d imagined so many times, his lips on yours.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington request #steve harrington requests #steve harrington story #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagines #steve x reader #steve stranger things #stranger things steve #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #stevie blurbs

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crowborn666-writes · 2 years

Text

Painting

(Been thinkin’ about it and decided I need to do the read more tag more often, whether or not if my fics seem short to me, they may seem long to someone else!)

Dabi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Platonic/Romantic

Summary: (takes place before Dabi joins the LoV!) Dabi doesn’t understand what you mean when you first explain “art has meaning” to him. Not until you paint something that reminds him a bit of himself.

~~~~~~

Blues and whites were carefully spread across the canvas in front of you, spots and splotches of paint decorating your skin as you blended color and shape together as one.

It was quiet, gentle rain pitter-pattering down outside as you worked. You didn’t need to glance behind you at the creak of your open window, you already recognized the sound of boots hitting your hardwood floor, muffled by the towel you do thoughtfully set out for him.

Dabi let out a huff as he was finally out of the cold rain, shrugging off his jacket to leave on the windowsill and shedding his bots onto the towel before making his way to you.

“So, what’re you painting today?”

You smiled up at him over your shoulder, enjoying the momentary scowl on his face when he realize what you were going to say.

“What do you think I’m painting?”

“Ughhh, you know I hate that! Quit askin’ me that question!”

You laughed, remembering the first few times you’d welcomed Dabi into your home. You hadn’t yet known about his evil deeds, not that he would tell you anytime soon either, but nonetheless, the future supervillain let you tend to his scuffs and scraps and allowed himself to be kept out of the rain.

From that first meeting if your overly kind gestures, you’d welcomed him every time he came by, getting to know each other more and more. One day, he asked about the paintings you’d hung up on your walls, and the ones he found half-finished on your canvases.

You’d told him that each piece had a meaning, and yet he couldn’t understand it. You told him art was made to make you feel something, but he didn’t understand that either.

You glanced back to the painting in front of you, the main piece was done, so now you were just filling in the rest of the canvas with a deep shade of blue, while lighter blues and white mixed together in jagged arcs.

“How am I supposed to know what you’re painting? You’re still working on it anyways.” Dabi huffed again, grabbing a nearby stool to sit next to you and plop his chin in his palm.

“Well, the centerpiece is done,” you explained softly, dipping your brush into the deep navy again, “I’m just working on the outside right now. What do you see in the middle?”

Another huff, mixed with a slight frustrated groan, and the quiet settled as you felt Dabi’s gaze floating past your shoulder to your canvas.

You felt Dabi shift slightly, a glance back showing him deep in thought, genuinely turning your question over and over in his mind.

“Blue fire.” He said finally, “A bit like my quirk.��

For emphasis, he held out his marred hand, a small wisp of blue flame sprouting from his fingertip for a moment.

You hummed, glancing over the painting in front of you. “I can see that. It wasn’t what I intentionally painted, but I can see the fire your seeing.”

“What did you intentionally paint?”

“A blue flower.” You replied, sitting back from the now finished background of the painting. “It’s something simple, but to the right person, it can mean something.”

With that you set your palette and brush aside, getting off your stool and stretching. With a pleased groan at the pops in your joints, you let out a breath as you turned to Dabi.

“I gotta use the bathroom real quick, and then I’ll make us lunch!”

Dabi’s eyes didn’t leave the painting as you left the room, his mind a bit scrambled as it processed what you told him.

At first, he saw a blue flame, something like his quirk, something that consumed and burned and hurt. Painful. Dangerous.

But then you told him it was meant to be a flower. Something that was delicate, beautiful, and dare he say fragile.

Now his mind was seeing both, the deep blue background helping the centerpiece stand out, the bright colors popping from the canvas. The flower look to be ablaze, something that would be crumbling under the heat of blue flames, but still standing strong.

He knew it was foolish, but he wondered if you’d end up being like that flower, standing strong even when his darkest secrets were laid out bare to you. His hellfire sins cradled and held by the delicate petals of your hospitality and care for him.

“Dabi! What do you want for lunch?”

He jumped from his thoughts, taking a shaky breath to steady himself before standing to slowly follow your voice to the kitchen. “…How about soba?”

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lavampira · 1 year

Text

OCKISS23 — DAY 3

prompt: nostalgia [@ockissweek] pairing: original ocs; angel pavon x sebastian ariti [belongs to @consulaaris] word count: 1306

Angel is a fucking coward.

He has no choice but to admit it, as long as he’s been leaning against the seat of his motorcycle, one hand around a drink carrier and the other with a cigarette pinched between his fingers. The fact that he’d already walked to a coffee shop up the street and back again says enough. If he had any sense of shame left, he might feel it now, staring down the imposing building unable to move and seeking more excuses to stall the inevitable.

Seb had dropped a pin to the location in a text, not that he’d needed it. He’s been here plenty of times in the past. But it’s an olive branch of sorts, this wordless invitation to visit him at the recording studio, letting Angel back into this part of his life even after he’d messed things up again. If nothing else, he owes Seb the courage to meet him halfway for taking his sorry ass back. Again.

And if he waits much longer, their drinks will be cold, rendering his peace offering useless.

After a long drag of his cigarette, Angel drops it to the pavement and grinds it under his boot, carefully shifting the carrier while tucking away his key, and finally heads for the door. The front desk seems to be expecting him, immediately directing him to the studio room once he’s given his name.

And then he arrives.

Slipping through the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to disrupt if recording is in progress, he glances around the room. He’s surprised to find that the rest of the band is out for the session. Only the producer and mixer sit huddled at the board, barely deigning to pass a glance in his direction, and Seb stands inside the booth, nodding along at whatever they say to him before he seems to spot him through the window.

“I’m taking a break.”

“You only just started on the track,” the producer calls back, trailing off into a sigh at the futility as Seb walks out of the booth with his perfected charming grin, and points a finger at him. “Not too long, you hear me, Sebastian? We’re finishing this one today.”

Seb brushes him off with a flippant wave of his hand. Despite the dismissal, they all know that he’ll be right back in that booth before long, his music most important to him. But no one can truly stop him when he gets an impulse in his head, and right now that means Angel, the drink carrier in his hand, and the balcony they used to escape to for some time alone.

Not much has changed about it since the last time Angel had visited him at the studio. Possibly more greenery in a narrow box pot, somehow well-kept and flourished despite the usual summer drought, but the view remains the same, overlooking the other downtown buildings and notorious traffic, even in mid-afternoon. He settles to lean against the wall after setting the drinks down on the patio table tucked in the corner, glancing at his boyfriend.

It’s almost painful how good Seb looks. His brown curls are tousled more artfully than he could ever manage himself, and in the sunlight, his freckles are illuminated over his skin as well as the tattoos peeking from the low opening of his shirt. He’s missed the sight. But Seb’s voice pulls him from his train of thought, almost making him feel the hint of embarrassment for openly staring at him. Almost.

“You’re late,” Seb mumbles.

“I closed the bar last night. Slept in.” Angel gestures at the cups on the nearby table. “Stopped for these, too.”

“You hate the coffee there.”

“They had your tea, though. Herbal. Bit of honey. I do remember that’s what you like to drink while recording.”

Seb does reach to take a sip of it then, but pauses to stare at him over its lid. “You’d still have to park and walk up the street. Unless you juggled them on your motorcycle, then your hands are more talented than I knew.”

Lifting a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, Angel glances away from that familiar and piercing green gaze, as if he’ll see right through him to pinpoint all the precise reasons why he’d stalled like a fucking tool. Not that it matters. Seb sets aside his tea and crowds in close to him, albeit tentative and slow like he’s equally as off kilter in the wake of their reunion, and his hand cradles Angel’s stubbled cheek to turn him back to him.

It’s stupid, really. It isn’t the first time that they’ve broken up and gotten back together. Far from it, in fact, and knowing their tumultuous track record, odds are higher that it won’t be the last time. But the guilt of his latest screw-up has been eating away at him, acidic and corrosive in his chest even as Seb forgave him again, and the idea of facing his bandmates and what they might’ve heard about him this time was enough to keep him rooted outside the building.

“I was nervous.”

Seb’s brow furrows at the confession. “Why?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” Angel runs his tattooed hand through his dyed hair, not caring that he’s tousling it out of place right then. “Maybe because I’m an asshole and you don’t exactly hold back about it when you’re mad at me.”

“But we made up. Multiple times,” Seb adds with a smirk.

Angel huffs a soft laugh, reaching to draw him closer by his hips, and attempts a lazy smirk of his own when he follows suit easily. “I wasn’t sure if your band would be here.”

Realization appears to dawn on Seb then, his face softer but still cautious as he gauges him for something. Possibly because Angel doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of him. And under normal circumstances, he would be right, but it’s different with them. Seb’s band are some of his closest friends. They matter to him, and as a result, their opinion of Angel apparently matters more to him than either of them previously thought.

“Well, fuck that,” Seb says, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard around the quiet words, but he holds his gaze anyway, still cradling his face like he’s actually something special. “You… make me happy. And if I am, then they’ll be happy, too.”

Angel tilts his head, leaning down to him in silent question, his eyes flitting to his lips. That’s all it takes for Seb to shift on his toes to meet him, closing the gap between them hungrily, though it fizzles into something softer as they savor the moment. Words have never been their strong suit, but slipping into this old pattern is an understanding all their own and one that only they know. And when Angel inevitably draws back enough to catch his breath, resting his forehead against him, he drags his hands up his waist to his shoulders until they find purchase cupping his face, too, long fingers brushing the ends of his hair.

“Missed this,” Angel mumbles against his lips, dragging a thumb over his cheek. “Missed you.”

Seb doesn’t answer him, but he doesn’t need to say anything else. It’s simply another thing that they know. This shitty cycle that they put themselves through is a painful one, but it’s theirs, and the fact is that they miss what they have even more when they’re apart, bringing them back to this place every time. It’s confirmed in the way Seb leans into his chest, tucking under his chin with a gentle press of his lips to the rose tattooed on his neck, their drinks ignored on the table, only them falling back into their old habits.

Angel wouldn’t have it any other way.

#dani writes things #ockiss23 #ockissweek #oc: angel pavon #seb ariti #angel/seb #verse: the hollow

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rosenallies · 3 months

Note

Since everyone (myself included!) is loved this pajamas prompt- figured I’d throw the witch au out there? It was brought up a few weeks ago and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since 🖤 but I totally understand if the inspiration has faded!

witch au my babies <3333

----

"Jasmine," Willow panted, fluttering over to her shoulder, the sprite seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

"Willow," Jasmine replied, continuing to stir the batter of the cookies she was making, the kitchen warm and smelling of cinnamon and chai.

"Don't be difficult, I need you to go drag Bosco to bed, she's sick and refuses to stop doing shit."

The sentiment alone made Jasmine stop in her tracks, her heart aching. "Bosco's sick? Why didn't she say anything?"

"That's just how she is. But she only listens to you; Cam, Angie, and I have been trying to get her to close the spell book all morning."

Jasmine huffed, wiping her hands on her apron, and all but stomping to Bosch's witch's lair, which was really just a cozy little greenroom attached to their cottage. She hated more than anything that Bosco refused to admit when she was sick or sad or anything other than content with everything.

But her irritation diminished when she opened the door to the lair and found Bosco nearly asleep over her spell book, head slipping off of her hand.

"Bosco," she cooed, touching her too warm cheek, "You're sick."

"No, 'm not, just resting my eyes," she mumbled, voice scratchy.

"Mmhmm, nice try. Honey, let me help you to bed. Please."

Jasmine pleaded with her, puppy dog eyes in full effect.

"Come on, Jas, 'M okay."

"Please," she tried again, letting her green eyes fill with tears; partly as a tactic to get Bosco up and to bed and partly because she was genuinely worried, she didn't even know witches could get sick. What if the common cold was immortality's one vice? She couldn't lose her parter who was supposed to live forever to some sniffles and a cough, but that's where Jasmine's mind wandered to.

Bosco finally relented, hands up in defeat. "Fine, I'll go to bed. But, I'm not gonna like it."

Jasmine kissed her forehead. "You don't have to like it, Ms.Grumpy Pants, you just have to rest and feel better."

Helping her up, Bosco then leaned on Jasmine the whole way to the bedroom where Jasmine made her sit on the end of the bed while she gathered things she needed.

"Alright, I'm gonna get you comfy, okay?"

At that point, just from the small journey to their bedroom, Bosco felt exhausted so all she could do was agree, not a single protest left her lips.

"I'm gonna brush and braid back your hair first."

Jasmine spoke softly to her, gentle fingers plaiting her hair into one thick braid down her back.

"Now pj's."

She helped Bosco up, stripping her of her cloak and the black lace dress she wore underneath in exchange for some soft leggings and one of Jasmine's old hoodies from college, between the two of them who both favored sleeping nude, it was the closest thing in their closer to pajamas, Jasmine was just afraid Bosco would freeze to death had she left her to sleep nude. For whatever reason, despite the fact that they'd dressed and undressed each other countless amounts of times, this felt more intimate, vulnerable somehow as Bosco finally leaned into Jasmine's care.

"Okay, last, Tylenol? Does Tylenol work for witches? Is there something else that helps?"

"It helps," Bosco mumbled, holding out her hand and taking the pills that Jasmine pressed into her hand.

"Good," Jasmine breathed, satisfied wit her work, "now cuddles?"

That caused a small smile to spread across Bosch's lips as she settled into bed, letting Jasmine hold her, pulling the duvet up to her chin to keep out the chill that rattled her bones.

"Jazzy, you take such good care of me," Bosco muttered, tucking herself against her human.

"Just sleep, baby," Jasmine chuckled, "you can thank me when you're feeling better."

#the way I want to introduce elves into this au so I can write miss dawn as a cutie lil elf in the woods #when this just becomes woodland creature au what then?#witch au #prompt request

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rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me · 3 months

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Ummmmmmmm. I hate school. During the school year it's impossible for me to accomplish anything because if I have one thing going on in a day I can't do anything else. But I've been sitting on the couch starting at my computer for the last half hour so I figure I may as well try to get past my writers block.

Introducing...

Coming Down

This song is kind of going to just be the reader looking back at all that has happened these last few months.

Verse 1

I found God I found him in a lover When his hair falls in his face And his hands so cold they shake

Dally canonically does not use hair grease, so his hair is the fluffiest thing in the world. He also has cold hands, you can't convince me otherwise. He is always cold which is why when he left New York he went to Oklahoma. (I don't know a lot about the states 'cause I live in Canada, but I looked it up and it said Oklahoma was one of the hottest states.)

I found the Devil I found him in a lover And his lips like tangerine In his color coded speak

Dally has a way with words even if he refuses to admit it. He would get good marks in English class whenever he was asked to write a straight up story, but his essays would ramble on and on and never really go anywhere. Now he can't be bothered to show up to class anyway so it doesn't really matter.

Chorus

Now we're lost somewhere in outer space In a hotel room where demons play They run around beneath our feet We roll around beneath these sheets

Reader stayed out one night even though they knew they were going to get in trouble for it. Dally and them hung out and went to all their favorite spots, and they stayed in a hotel room. Reader was feeling kinda conflicted with all that was going on and Dally could tell that and tried to comfort them as well as he could. Naturally a tickle fight commenced. The reader was surprised by how safe they felt with Dally. Like they could let go of everything and just be.

I've got a lover, a love like religion I'm such a fool for sacrifice It's coming down, down, I'm coming down It's coming down, down, I'm coming down

Reader gets home and everything kinda loses that feeling of safety.

I've got a lover and I'm unforgiven I'm such a fool to pay this price It's coming down, down, I'm coming down It's coming down, down, I'm coming down

They remember that they have a boyfriend and responsibilities to their family and everyone and they feel bad about what they are doing.

Verse 2

I found a martyr He told me that I'd never With his educated eyes And this last line is kinda sexual and I don't feel comfortable with that so just enjoy not having to watch me struggle with it.

Reader thinks that in another life Dally could have been someone who'd do a lot of good. They told him once that she could see all the lives he had ever lived in his eyes, he brushed it off but he felt bittersweet nonetheless, thinking about how highly they viewed him and being convinced that he didn't deserve it.

I found a savior I don't think he remembers 'Cause he's off to pay his crimes And he's got no time for mine

Dally gets arrested. And it's hard for reader. Dally has been being more careful than he usually is but. He got sloppy. And now she is reflecting on everything.

This time the chorus is more reflective, she is thinking about the relationship as a whole and everything that is involved with it

Bridge

Every single night pray the sun will rise Every single time make a compromise Every single night pray the sun will rise, but

It's coming down, down, I'm coming down It's coming down, down, I'm coming down

This is such a reflection of how the relationship has been and is going.

And that's it. I think this is the perfect song to pick back up on because it fits so well that it sorta writes itself and because it's kind of a summery of everything that has happened.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, *takes awkward bow*

I’m holding this against my chest, cradling it like a newborn baby, clutching it like the last item on Black Friday, gripping it like a best friend who’s moving far away. I hope you know how much it means to me that you keep coming back and breaking down these lyrics, spinning such a complex and beautiful story about Dally and his lover and gosh, I hope you know how much I love it <3

#dillo’s replies #he is just a doggo

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gothamlonelyhearts · 11 months

Text

posting this cuz i cant remember if i posted it anywhere else other than my ao3 which is full of angsty drivel i don't want to share here. augh

summary:

a lot of this is inspired by how i felt when i adopted my oldest cat a few years ago and how its changed me as a person

this is meant to be after/during the first half of riddler year one #1

it's storming again. it's been storming all month, actually. every day is exactly the same - grey skies and a deluge of rain that stinks of pollution. the city is exactly the same as its been for decades. polluted, literally and metaphorically.

the relative quiet out here is relieving, but no less suffocating than the stuffy congestion of public transit.

edward realizes he's been breathing shallowly and forces a few deep breaths on his way down the sidewalk. the weight and heat of his baggy coat keep him sane, for the time being.

in such a rush to get home... for what? nothing awaits him there. an empty, messy home, dim and depressing.

his mind wanders to gorier fantasy for a moment - perhaps he won't come in to work tomorrow, because he won't have to wake up into this miserable world again. perhaps tonight, he will have the altruism to remove himself from an already suffering world. no more breath or space will be wasted on him.

the thought is cut off when he notices the lanky, shuddering figure of a black and white cat, soaked to the skin and standing terrified beside a pile of trash. well, at least, the cat seemed to have had white markings at some point - it was hard to tell beneath the dirt caked into its fur.

edward stares at the cat. it stares back at him. something in his guts churns and flips. there were many strays on the streets of the city. all kinds of animals born into a life of neglect. he felt a kinship to them for that.

of course, edward had the displeasure of living under the tyrannical, soulless thumb of a landlord just as devoid of human emotion as all the rest of them. it's easy to acknowledge when you can't save all the strays, but it was risky to try and save even one. even to an animal, edward was basically useless.

the waterlogged feline takes a shaky step toward edward and lets out a scratchy meow. he crouches, not caring too much about the downpour he is standing in. the cat opens its mouth in what should've been a cry, but all that comes out is a creaky groan. edward's stomach turns again. strays never last long. not here, not anywhere. maybe he isn't like a stray, then. he's survived decades of neglect. perhaps he's more like a cockroach, he thinks - rotten, repulsive. nauseating and nothing more than a pest.

if the cat notices anything different about his demeanor, it doesn't let on, instead brushing its bony frame up against edward's leg. he strokes its dirty fur, taking brief refuge from his thoughts through the knowledge that he was likely the kindest person the kitty had encountered.

it seems friendly enough, and it was quite a small cat. not quite a kitten, but not quite grown. without allowing himself time to back out, edward scoops the cat up and continues his route home. it's not a long way and his apartment is typically left alone. even if he knows he can't keep the animal safe forever, he can't leave it to die in the cold rain.

by the time he makes it home and shuffles into his apartment, the cold has already crept in through his layers of thick clothing. edward had always hated being cold - even as an adult, the feeling awoke some sort of primal fear in him. perhaps it was just natural, after spending his childhood shivering and panting with his extremities numb from the lack of heating at the orphanage. perhaps that was why the cat was growing more restless, squirming and mewling in protest from its secure spot in edward's arms.

"hold on, kitty," he breathlessly murmurs, as if the cat is going to understand him. the sound of his own voice is a bit foreign when he isn't attempting to force a tone of professional diplomacy. it makes him realize how little he used his voice outside of the drab walls of the office. all the more reason that no one would miss him once he was gone. he realizes that by taking the feline into his home, tonight certainly cannot be the night. ah, well. he had another sixty or so years ahead of him, a couple more days caught in his rut of a life wouldn't be anything. he kicks the front door shut, trying not to slam it and alarm the cat. it clicks shut and the cold draft is cut off instantly.

the inside of his apartment is a dull mess and it isn't exactly warm and comfortable, but it isn't as bad as the windy, icy downpour he just fought through. relieved that its over, edward crouches and allows the cat to roam free. it hops out of his arms and sniffs the air.

just as soon as he's arrived home, however, ed realizes something important he'd forgotten.

"i don't have any cat food."

the cat looks up at him curiously, not comprehending a word that came out of his mouth but still pleased to be spoken to. it rubs against ed's shins again, purring loud enough for him to be able to hear clearly.

ed decides that he could at least shower and decompress a little before going back out for cat food. he crouches down again, petting along the cat's back. he can feel every vertebrae on its spine. it reminds him a little of his own youth - clearly, the pledged donations that gotham's richest had swore to the orphanage didn't go into feeding those kids. even though the cat must've been starving and unwell, it uses its scant energy to show affection. not just to anyone, but to ed, who had hardly even done the bare minimum for its wellbeing. a pang of guilt hits him and he changes his mind once again - the shower could wait.

"i'll be back, please don't pee anywhere." he implores the oblivious cat, realizing as soon as the words leave his mouth that he will need a litterbox too.

by the time he's back from the store, his scarce funds have been blown on a couple of things; a bag of cat food, a litterbox (and litter, of course), a couple cheap plastic bowls... along with a few packets of cat toys, cat treats, and a singular energy drink. it wasn't like he spent his money on anything good when it wasn't all eaten up by the exorbitant rent or cheap food that made up his bare minimum expenses, and at least this way, he could show kindness to someone - or something - that obviously was deprived of it.

"i'm home!" he announces to the near-empty apartment. the cat meows and trots up to him, its yellow eyes wide with eagerness. ed realizes that it feels a little bit nice to be greeted, even if that greeting came from an animal. "i got you a lot of things."

the cat circles his legs, meowing and headbutting his ankles. edward didn't know much about cats - or any pets, really - but he could tell the cat was impatiently asking for dinner. so, he made his way to the kitchen and set the plastic bags full of cat things down on the counter, clumsily avoiding the cat weaving in and out of his path. as soon as he cracks open the bag of kibble, the cat leaps onto the counter and lets out an impatient "myeeaaauurghh" right beside his ear. ed just chuckles a little and fills the small dish with kibble. the cat goes to eat it right there, but ed scoops up the bowl and sets it on the ground.

by the time he's filled up the water dish, the food bowl is empty. the cat must've been starving - he'd known that before, but it was even more obvious now. a pang of resentment and ire hits him. what kind of person leaves a defenseless animal out on the streets to die? the cat didn't ask for any of this - for all ed knew, it could've been a descendant of other strays who weren't lucky enough to be found by someone who cared. he looks at the unkempt little creature and his chest aches a little. it still had such a bright personality for an animal that had been born into a world of neglect and cruelty. perhaps he'd found something he and the cat didn't have in common.

his mind wanders to his earlier thought spiral as he fills the litterbox and sets it under the bathroom sink. sure, the cat was safe tonight, but one day, his landlord would show up uninvited, or one of his stupid neighbors would snitch when they see him bringing home pet supplies. even if today, he did something good, it wouldn't matter in the long run - he was entirely helpless to what the future held for either himself or the cat.

he sets out a few of the cheap cat toys he'd picked up and trudges up the stairs to finally shower.

edward undresses the same way he always did - towel over the full-length mirror on the door. he tosses his clothes in a messy pile by the door and shivers as he waits for the ice-cold water to warm. he sits on the ground in his boxers, his eyes catching on the white streaks of scar tissue along the insides of his thighs. there's others, haphazardly littered along his upper arms and his hips, all sizes and shapes, lacerations and burns and reminders of how lucky he was he'd never been carted away to a hospital... and despite how sick and uneasy he feels upon seeing them, it's stranger to imagine his body without them. still, they're a burden. the nagging feeling that one day someone will see and know what he'd done ate away at him.

it didn't matter, though. he wouldn't live that long and no one would see his body while he was alive.

ed stood up and finished undressing, stepping into the shower and relaxing a bit once he wasn't freezing his ass off anymore. he went through the rote, meticulous acts of cleaning himself up. despite knowing he'd just have to go through it all tomorrow, he couldn't help but scrub himself raw a few times over. feeling dirty was something else he'd hope to leave in his childhood.

the silence of the house was suddenly broken. the sounds of scraping at the door made edward's body tense up. he barely had time to panic about how there was certainly some deranged lunatic outside the bathroom door clawing at the wood like a wild animal when he heard a loud meow.

oh. right. there's a cat here.

feeling stupid - but relieved - edward decided it couldn't hurt to talk to the cat. after all, no one else was around. even if they did hear, his neighbors likely already thought he was crazy.

"just give me a few minutes, i'll be out soon!" he called. it felt silly. incredibly silly, actually. the cat didn't even know what he said.

as if to prove the point, the cat let out another demanding meow.

by the end of the night, edward had grown used to having an animal roaming his house. despite the mess, the cat didn't seem excessively interested in things like discarded wires, thankfully.

ed blinked his dry eyes, glancing at the bottom right of his computer screen. 4:01 AM.

he heaved a big sigh, pushing himself out of his computer chair. his legs were sore, his neck was sore, his fingers cramped from typing, and he was pretty sure every night he spent obsessively poring over forums and self-help websites was making his eyesight deteriorate at an alarming rate. feeling defeated and unfulfilled again, he drags himself into his unmade bed and wiggles around in the blankets, trying to get himself comfortable enough to hopefully sleep before the sun comes up. he finds his comfort lying on his stomach, gripping his pillow tight.

even after decades of knowing that he should've never been born, death is still terrifying to edward. it haunts him every night - will he wake up tomorrow? how long would it be until he was found? no one would attend his funeral. maybe his landlord would find him a month later, for no other motive than to collect the money ed hadn't given him. he'd been having chest pains. maybe living off of instant noodles and energy drinks would make his heart give out. maybe he would die just as pathetically as he lived.

a sudden weight on his bed - and then on his back - startles him enough to earn an audible gasp.

again, he realizes that there is a cat in his house. right. that would take some getting used to. (and just as he got used to it, just as he got attached, it'd be taken away from him. what had edward done to himself and this poor animal?)

the cat walks along his back and settles between his shoulders blades. he feels the alternating weight of paws pushing on his back - oh, kneading. right. cats kneaded. wasn't that a familial bonding thing? it makes him feel a little touched that the cat was that fond of him, but the unease in his stomach grew. was he really doing the right thing by taking in an animal who he'd inevitably let down?

the thoughts melted away as the cat laid down on his back, leaning its little head forward and sniffing at him. its long whiskers tickle at his ear and he pulls back a little at the unfamiliar feeling. still, its nice. he realizes that he hadn't given it a bath yet - that would have to wait until tomorrow, though. the sound of purring allows him to relax.

"good night," edward mumbles to the cat. even if this cat couldn't stay forever, at least tonight, he'd given a stray a home.

#my writing #riddler year one #edward nashton #yeah sure ill post in the main tags why not. <- afraid

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