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dramaticals · 5 months

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a favour

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: you want to get your mind off of your break-up and theodore knows just what to do. literally just smut. characters are assumed to be 19+. mdni.

author's note: based on a thread i wrote in the rpc, but i excluded any wordings from my writing partner for obvious reasons

You didn't know who else to ask.

You've tried just about every heartbreak remedy out there—guzzling glasses of alcohol being the most recent and detrimental. The only remedy you hadn't tried required another person, and asking for it seemed to be much harder and more embarrassing than you thought.

In theory, you should be doing what any normal person would do when they want to get over an ex: find some stranger at a bar and have at it. But you're convinced the looming grey cloud that seemed to follow you around was enough to deter any stranger, regardless of whether sex was involved.

Which is why you were standing in front of Theodore Nott's place with a ridiculous and crude request on the tip of your tongue.

You and Theodore Nott weren't exactly friends. Friends of friends, more like. You two ran in the same circles, but there had never really been an opportunity or a reason to hang out one-on-one.

Even so, you knew the type of guy he was. Theo was as charming as he was alluring. He had that aura around him that just screamed lothario. And he was—at least, that's what you heard. Your mutual friends often teased him about his latest conquests, to which he'd respond with a smirk and a dismissive, "If you want me to fuck you next, all you have to do is ask."

"Y/N," Theo says. He leans against the doorframe of his apartment coolly, brows raising in question at your visit and curious eyes giving you a once-over. The way his arctic green eyes lingered on your body made you flush.

"Hey," You say breathlessly, fingernails digging into the palm of your hand out of pure nervousness. You didn't think it would be so hard to come out and just say it. "Can I ask you for a favour?"

"A favour," Theo repeats, his lips twitching into his signature smirk. By the way he was looking at you, you swear he knows what you want from him. "Depends. What do you need?"

"Could you help me get over my ex?"

Theodore's brows raise, his eyes flashing in smug amusement. He definitely knew why you were here.

"I can think of a few ways to distract you." He says slowly, eyes trained on yours. There's a teasing tone in his next words as he lists, "Movies, puzzles, bourbon..."

"Actually," you interrupt, your gaze flickering anywhere but his eyes. Your heart's practically beating out of your chest now. His intense gaze was doing a number on you, and you suddenly understood every woman he'd ever slept with. Theo knew exactly how to work a woman in the simplest way possible. "I was thinking of something more effective than that."

"Oh? And what may that be?" Theo asks as if he already didn't know. He just wanted you to say it.

You inhale sharply, your eyes meeting his again. "I want you to fuck me."

Theo lets out a breath, his lips twisting into a mischievous grin. "Gladly."

Theo beckons you inside before shutting the door and turning the lock. He wastes no time closing in the space between you two. Strong hands pull you close as his lips ghost over yours teasingly. You can practically feel his smirk on your lips, and it makes you shiver.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this." Theo says huskily against your lips.

There's no time to process his words before his lips are on yours. You gasp against his mouth, allowing him the opportunity to slip his tongue in. He steps forward, guiding you backwards until you're pinned against the door. Your hands reach to cup his jawline, kissing Theo back with as much passion as he was giving you.

He lets out a groan against you, and it strikes a fire within you and to your core. God, you needed to hear more of that.

Feverish kisses turn into teasing, nipping kisses down your neck. His rough hands slide down your frame, his leg expertly maneuvering between yours and pinning you in place. You whine at the pressure, throwing your head back in response.

"Fuck, Theo," you breathe, your fingers running through his brown curls.

He lets out a low chuckle against your collarbone, clearly eating up every second of this favour. You were so receptive to his actions that a part of him wanted to drag this whole ordeal out.

His hands tug at your sweatshirt, expertly removing the garment. He hisses when he realizes that was the only barrier he had to deal with. The cool air of his apartment, along with his lips on your chest, made your nipples perk. Your back arches into his mouth.

Theo flicks his tongue against your breast, teeth grazing lightly as he pulls away to say, "So fucking beautiful."

You could just melt into him. The way he was working you was unlike anyone you've ever experienced before. And the way his hands hooked onto the hem of your skirt and knickers, pulling them down swiftly—fuck.

One hand moves to capture both your wrists, lifting them both up and holding them above you firmly. His other hand finds its way to your core, toying with your slick folds before inserting a digit.

You let out a desperate whimper. You want to grip onto something, but his hold on your wrists is solid, and it only makes your hips buck into him.

"Eager, are we?" Theo muses, his lips planting a sweet kiss on yours. He watches you attentively as he slowly inserts another digit. Slow enough to really take notice of your wetness on his fingers. Theo smirks when your breath hitches.

"Theo," you gasp. "Please."

Theo kindly obliges, curling his fingers inside you and flicking repeatedly against the spot that made your knees buckle and your heart soar. His grip on your wrists tightened in part that you could no longer keep yourself standing.

"Oh my god. I need—" you moan, your eyes shutting in pleasure.

"What do you need, darling?" Theo asks smoothly, his fingers continuing their motions inside you. His eyes are dark with lust. He plants a kiss on your jaw.

"You." You manage to get out, squirming against his fingers. You're so close.

Theo was feeling too fucking smug seeing you unravel like this, and so it's another second before he's sliding his fingers out of you and letting go of your wrists. You whine at the loss of contact, your eyes shooting open in confusion.

Theo's discarding his shirt, untying his sweatpants, and shoving off his boxers. You bite your lip at the sight of him. You didn't think he could be any more sexy.

"Like what you see?" Theo quips with a sly smile. His hands move to your hips and then to your thigh, guiding your leg up around him. He guides himself to brush against your core teasingly. You jerk at the contact.

"Theodore," you warn. You don't know how much more foreplay you can take.

With a pompous grin, Theo sinks into you roughly. He grunts in pleasure, reveling in the feeling of your dripping cunt around him.

"Fucking hell, Y/N," Theo groans, setting up a torturous rhythm of thrusts. You feel the pleasure bubbling in your core, your fingernails dragging across his bare back.

Theo buries his face in the crook of your neck, leaving sweet kisses on your skin. The sensation of his soft, tender lips on your neck versus the primal thrusts into you made you want to scream.

Theo senses this, and he relentlessly continues his movements. He's quite close himself, his cock twitching in response to your body. But considering this was a favour to you, he holds himself back. You needed to come first.

And you do.

You release a panting whine just as the building pleasure finally washes over you. You grip onto the locks of his hair on the base of his neck for support, coming undone in his strong arms. Theo moans, feeling you clench around him, before allowing himself to come.

You slump forward into Theo, your forehead resting on his chest. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly, now more than ever needing the support his strong frame provided.

"That'll definitely do," you say with a weak nod.

You can't see his face, but you can practically see the shit-eating grin on his lips.

#theodore nott smut #theo nott smut #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x you #theo nott x you #theodore nott fanfiction #*writing

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 1 month

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 2 to Truth or Dare

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: After a game of Truth or Dare leaves you and your lieutenant breathless and yearning for more, will you both be able to leave things alone or will one of you not be able to hold out? And what happens when you meet again?

Word Count: 5 k

Part 3: READ HERE

So many questions are left on Lt. Riley’s tongue as he finishes another cigarette and leaves the group of officers behind in the rec to make his way back to his quarter, the spectre's touch of your full lips still causing the skin on his mouth to tingle from the sudden lack of all that delicious pressure. There is so much he wants to make clear, even more he wants to do, but where to begin? It’s all so confusing.

As he lays down in his empty bed staring up at the ceiling, struggling to relax his feverish limbs as it still feels like he has been struck by a live wire, he fails to keep his wandering mind focused on his breathing to ignore the gnawing emptiness that is filling his chest from the absence of your presence. That’s when the questions start to roll in.

Did you feel something too? Maybe it was all just an act? Does that even matter if it was?

“No,” Simon mutters to himself through the silence to stop his train of thought from running rampant. He’s allowing himself to get distracted worrying about the unknown and that is something that will only cause more problems, but he is in turmoil.

Unsuccessfully he tosses and turns in the darkness that fills the space, his thoughts drifting back to that feeling of heat from the proximity of your bodies, the residual pressure from your mouth plastered to his, the look of pure lust in your gaze, and the gnawing compulsion of his fingers to get at your curves.

But this isn’t a lover’s island, there is a job to be done here and he has seniority. Maybe it is better to leave this alone where it stands; who knows what disaster could come from getting involved with another officer in such a capacity. And yet…

There is no stopping his mind from wandering ceaselessly back to those breathless moments where his lips fought yours for dominance with the mind-numbing electricity flowing between you, the attraction so strong it did not seem possible for you both to pull from it.

He has a problem and it isn’t going away.

Across base, laying in the dark in your own bed, your heartbeat pounding heavily in your chest, an ache runs its course throughout your limbs. There is a need for something to ease this overwhelming desire to be craved in a desperate, debilitating way, though you really don’t want to admit it. No, you don’t need something…you need someone. You need him.

You hadn’t been ready to admit it then, but there was a spark between you that is no longer possible to ignore now that you are alone, but you don’t know how to handle things any other way than to just ignore and move on; maybe the desire to have him again will die away if you just let it be. Even as the thought enters your mind you know it’s pure bullshit. There is no denying that things became complicated the second your lips met, that it was like igniting gasoline with a blowtorch. What was once mere infatuation that you could handle, has now grown into an untamed beast inside that leaves you feeling delirious and out of control.

Rolling onto your side, you convince yourself to leave all these questions alone and focus on something else, anything to get your mind off of what you would be doing with the lieutenant at this moment if you both had not been interrupted. As you close your eyes to force sleep to come, visions of a bare and glistening officer thrusting between your legs fills your subconscious and you hope the morning comes soon enough because sleep is going to be short tonight.

Luckily, life around base rarely stands still long enough for anything other than work to get tended to. Any hopes of exploring that tension and ecstasy has to be put on the back burner as life in the taskforce resumes its usual chaos. Daily operations keep your schedule packed completely full all week so that certain thoughts get pushed to the back of your mind. And yet, during those slower moments of the day, they come creeping back up just like they never left.

“ ‘ello?” Soap says as he waves his hand in front of your blank face. “Ye in there, lass?”

Your fork hangs limply from your hand, teetering over your plate lunch and threatening to fall with a clatter as you realize that you drifted off again. This is the third time this week that you have gotten so lost in thought trying to recall that feeling of the lieutenant’s lips that it’s becoming apparent to your fellow sergeant that something is off. Blinking a few times, you shake your head to clear your mind.

“What?” you shoot back at him as you stab the food and push it around the plate, pretending to eat even though you aren’t hungry.

“I’ve been talkin’ for a good five minutes and ye ain’t heard a word,” he says with a hint of agitation. His steady glare gives you the once over as he tries to read your face. “Where ye at these last few days, hmm?”

You mask your face behind your customary smile. “Maybe I’m just trying to imagine a more engaging conversation than the one I’m currently in,” you pick, but Johnny isn’t letting this drop.

His eyes are still on you, scrutinizing your body language even as you stare down into your food to avoid his gaze. From the corner of your eye you can see the gears turning in that mind of his as if he is trying to put things together. You let it go on a few more seconds before you speak up.

“You got a problem or something?”

“It’s just strange,” he chuckles and you raise an eyebrow as you tilt your head to the side. “It’s just…I was speakin’ to Gaz yesterday and he mentioned that the lieutenant seems…distracted…as well lately. Same vacant look ye got goin’ on. Ye wouldn’t happen ta know why, would ye?”

Your heart leaps with a strong thud in your chest. Just what the hell is he implying? You had been certain that Johnny knew nothing, but now you aren’t so sure. Maybe you aren’t being as convincing as you think. “Why the fuck would I know that?” you play it off as you swallow down the lump in your throat. “Do I just know everything that goes on with everyone around here? I’ve got enough on my mind then to worry about the rest of you lot.”

Johnny leans in a bit closer over his plate and lowers his voice as he says the next part, making your blood run cold. “Must be a coincidence then, that both a ye just happen ta be actin’ different at the same time, ay? Ye know, on account a tha other night.”

The heel of your boot immediately connects with his foot only hard enough to make him yelp and pop back upright in surprise. You always forget that Johnny is smarter than he lets on and it’s clear he has been paying attention. Too bad you will never give him the satisfaction of admitting anything. With a laugh he sits back in his seat as you stare him down before rolling your eyes.

“Why are you so worried about the lieutenant? Seems like someone’s a bit too obsessed and that can be a problem. You should probably talk to someone about that.”

He shakes his head. “Whatever ye say, lass,” he says, punctuating it with another chuckle as he tucks back into his lunch. “Whatever ye say.”

Firearms and ammunition is on the schedule for the rest of your day. It is your job to take inventory of all the munitions you’ll need for tomorrow’s end of week training. At least the repetitious task will keep you busy enough that hopefully you won’t be thinking about a certain lieutenant and what he could be up to right now.

At least that is the plan that you start with, but just as every other day this week soon that hulking officer begins to creep his way into your mind. Has Johnny been lying about how distracted the lieutenant seems lately? Could it be about what happened the other night or could it be something that has nothing to do with you? Little by little, it chips away at your calm until that is all you can focus on, even as you try and get through counting and gathering all the materials you’ll be needing for tomorrow.

There is no way for you to know, but at that exact moment there is someone coming your way with a burning question that needs answering.

All week Lt. Riley has gone about his days as usual, except try as he might to focus only on the tasks given to him, all he can do is mull over the same question in his mind: did you feel something in the kiss the way he did? It is eating him alive to know the answer and no matter where he is, who is speaking with, or what he is doing, the question is there to make him restless.

Until finally he has had enough. Just as the question overwhelms his mind again he throws down the work on his desk, shoves his chair back to get out, and leaves his office in a flurry. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but as he walks he passes by Captain Price’s office, the one person that would know where you are stationed today. Quickly he steps inside the doorway to ask.

Price checks his computer screen that has all that information already pulled up. “She has firearm trainin’ tomorrow with the newer recruits, so she will be takin’ inventory in munitions today,” the captain relays the information, curious as to why his lieutenant seems tense and sounds a little out of breath.

Before the captain can ask any more probing questions or mention to his officer that he will need to speak with him in a bit, the lieutenant heads off in a rush towards the munitions depot. No matter, the captain will let him conduct his business with you and send a messenger in a bit to bring him back.

Lt. Riley crosses the base with nothing else on his mind but to get to you and when he does he finds you are completely lost in your work, none the wiser that you aren’t alone anymore until it’s too late. You don’t hear that signature click that means the main door is opening, nor the careful, but heavily booted footsteps padding across the floor in your direction. Just a few feet from you he stops and stares silently, waiting to see if you notice his presence.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel a pair of eyes on you and looking up you come face to face with the person that was just on your mind. You can’t stop the way you hold your breath the moment your eyes connect as every involuntary process in your body gets interrupted by his sudden appearance. Desperately you try to regain composure and shake off that initial surprise; there is no need to make this awkward, it will only make things worse for yourself in the long run.

Clearing your throat, you shoot him a smile. “Sir,” you greet him with a nod and a slight tremor in your voice that you quickly swallow back down. “Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone else to be here. Did you need something?”

The adrenaline makes your limbs tingle and instead of just standing there awkwardly as you wait for him to respond, you put your hands back to the task before you hoping to cause your nervousness to settle. If you have to stand looking into his face in the stillness of the room for much longer, you might combust and the risk of looking like a fool is enough to make you act out being too busy to give him your full attention.

Standing this close with the lingering feelings from the reaction that happened the last time you were together, the lieutenant is overwhelmed and it makes him pause. That same magnetism that he had felt that night is already pulling him to you, until his composure falls apart faster than he can calm it. Still, there is a question on the tip of his tongue that he is choking to ask; it’s the whole reason he’s here and he’s not leaving without an answer no matter what.

“I need ya to stop and look at me,” he says as he steps in towards you. You discreetly take a deep breath as you set your things down to turn your face back to look up at him.

He’s already scrutinizing your body language, focusing on any sign that might give him an idea of where your thoughts are at this moment. Those brown eyes catch how tense your shoulders are through your t-shirt, how your pupils seem dilated as you meet his gaze, and finally the way your hands tremble as they hang at your sides.

“I want ya to tell me the truth, yeah?” he says with a nod.

You stare back at him, big doe-eyes sparkling in the overhead lights as your pulse runs fiery hot through your limbs with the growing anxiety from wondering what the hell is going on. “Yes, sir?”

The mask covering his face clings a little too tightly and the clothing on his chest traps in the heat rising in his body, making his skin clammy as he struggles to vocalize that loaded question he’s had swirling in his mind for days. Lt. Riley clears his throat; he thought he’d come up with something better than this, but thinking clearly has long gone now. All he can do is just spit it out.

“Mactavish’s stupid fuckin’ dare, ya remember it? I keep thinkin’ ‘bout it and I need ya to tell me somethin’: was it all an act, the way we kissed?”

Fuck, how are you supposed to answer this?

There is warmth blossoming in your cheeks as the thumping grows stronger in your chest. His question is simple enough, yet there isn’t a simple way for you to answer. Tell the truth? Could you actually go through with something that risky? For all you know he could be asking just to tell you that the kiss is to mean nothing because it will never happen again, that he wants you to let it all go to clear the air of any misconceptions. You pray that that is not what he’s about to say, but as you silently think about how to answer, he pushes for you to stop avoiding the question.

“I need ya to answer me,” he says firmly, eyes never leaving yours. “Were ya pretendin’ or did ya not want it to fuckin’ end?”

A sharp inhale of air does nothing in helping to calm your nerves; you just have to get on with it. “I-it…wasn’t an act,” you say.

The lieutenant has his answer, that’s what he wanted, right? Just to hear you say that the spark ignited between you in those few ecstasy-fueled minutes were genuine; that is it, isn’t it? His curiosity is sated and he should be able to move on, but he can’t. With your confession comes something more, something that he can’t let go of, and that is now that he knows it was real he wants it again. It consumes him to the point that he cannot move away and instead steps in closer as he grabs your biceps, forcing you to move backwards until you find yourself against the wall directly behind you.

“Sir?” you ask to get his attention as he continues to stand there staring intensely into your face without so much as a sound. You hadn’t felt this overwhelmed by his presence since the night you two kissed, but now it is back to cloud your mind and set your pulse pounding through your limbs.

Your furrow-browed stare wavers as you clear your throat and repeat your question again. “Sir?”

Consequences are an inconceivable concept right now; the only thing playing in his mind are how fucking soft your lips look and how he desperately wants to get lost in them again. The sensations of reliving that experience from that night in the rec consumes every molecule in his body until there is nothing left inside him except for you.

He needs it, he needs it now, and as that deep, longing ache settles itself in his chest to cause his heart to pound so hard that he can hear the beat in his ears, he throws sensibility away as he moves to grab your hips firmly in his gloved hands.

“We really shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he says, his body pressing against yours as he draws you in. “Ya know it’s trouble.”

His actions don’t match his words and the contradiction causes your mind to falter on what you should do. Did he want this to end or not? Does he even really know?

“Do you want to stop, sir?” you ask timidly as your body begins to vibrate with the sudden, intense pleasure of his hands as they are back on you again. “You know we can just forget it; it’s really fine.”

One of his hands leaves the curve of your hip and travels upwards so that those long, covered fingers can string themselves through the strands of hair at the back of your head. “Who said I wanted ta forget, hmm?” he admits with his eyes firmly on your lips, watching as they part slightly so you can take quick, short breaths in and out. “Do ya think I wasn’t there, that I didn’t feel what was happenin’ between us that night? Ya think I could just forget all that? Do ya think I want to?”

His gloved thumb wraps around your face so that he can brush it over your bottom lip, letting the electricity pass through the fabric from his fingertips into your mouth. You gasp from the ache his touch leaves behind and he exhales heavily at your reaction. “Do ya know the fuckin’ power ya have over me after that? Shit, I’m riskin’ a lot just ta be here like this with ya again, knowing what could happen when we’re alone. All because ‘a one fuckin’ kiss.”

You swear if he doesn’t do something soon you are going to pass out; your mind is spinning in circles as the warm tension gathering between your bodies becomes unbearable. Only a small swatch of fabric covering his face keeps you both apart and yet you can still sense the heated air from his mouth as it sweeps across the delicate skin of your lips the closer he lowers his head.

He can’t do it, he can’t stop the way he craves you to the point of insanity right now. No, if he was going to stop it should have been long before now. As his hands cling to your body, there isn’t any chance that he is going to let you get away. He needs you, he has to have you, and it has to be right this fucking second to ease the painful longing that has kept him up all week.

Lt. Riley is gone; in his place is a depraved being that only yearns to feel that overwhelming passion that you gave him once again.

“I need more of the way it felt,” he groans adamantly. “I need ya, now.”

Before you can properly react to his heart-stopping statement, the lieutenant frantically wrenches his mask up and completely off his face, not wanting to be hindered at all from you anymore. All you catch is a crown of short blonde hair as he lets the cloth fall to the floor, closes his eyes, and leans in without another word to harshly smash his juicy lips together with yours in a reckless abandon that makes your knees buckle.

Fucking hell it’s everything that he remembered and so much more; you taste like the best type of sin and he is ready to pay everything for it.

The force of his advance shoves your head backward into the wall as he takes your mouth with dizzying harshness, not hesitating to shove in his tongue to fill the cavity behind your lips to capacity. The tip of that wet muscle strokes across the roof of your mouth and the sensation causes your eyes to roll back into your head. If there was any doubt left in your mind, it has all dissipated now that his mouth is back on yours.

“Stop callin’ me sir. Say my name,” he forcefully demands in that husky, breathless tone, a yearning in his voice that makes your soul burn as he speaks those desperate words onto your skin. “Call me Simon.”

You break from his mouth, your lips instantly desperate to form the word and say it aloud. “Simon,” you moan and it breathes new life into his name that he could never have predicted he needed.

Pining you tighter to the wall, he overtakes you rougher and rougher until the harshness of his movements abrades the skin of your mouth to make it swell and bruise. Relentlessly he siphones the breath from you to keep him going. That moist air fills his mouth so that he can speak. “Say it again,” he orders in a growl.

It’s like honey as it rolls off your tongue and you can’t help but want to repeat it. “Mmm, Simon,” you whimper onto his mouth and goddamn the euphoria of having to swallow down the desperation in your voice suddenly awakens an insatiable ache that will need more to quench.

His gloves have to go, now, as his bare hands are burning to get their fill of your curves. Those thin pieces of fabric are hindering him from being able to connect with all that silky skin so that he can know what it feels like against his calloused palms. It is torment to be kept from all that ecstasy. Struggling to peel them off his fingers as he cannot pry his mouth away from yours at all, he finally frees those long, brawny digits and they waste no time in pawing wildly at your body.

Greedy fingers recklessly claw and tear at your clothing, searching for an opening where he can penetrate to find enough balmy skin available to fill his hands until he cannot hold anymore. Deliriously and without looking he rips the pieces of your uniform up until he can get underneath them and let his fingertips get that first touch he has craved nonstop since the second he had pulled away from you that night. Those hungry lips continue to overwhelm your own as Simon is able to grab the hem and his hands have finally found their prize.

Laborious panting breaths fill up the space between you as the roughness of his hands grip into your hips and square them up against his own, pelvis’ grinding together in search of as much friction as they can find. Only a few layers of clothing keep your bodies apart, but that doesn’t stop Simon from rutting against you and you matching his movements. There is nothing else inside your head except the overwhelming euphoria of his touch along the lines of your body and the growing bulge in his pants that drills into you harder and harder the more it grows.

No immediate danger is there to keep you both tame, no time limit looms over your heads that will force you to stop, and when two desperate things have nothing to lose, they simply let go.

Every single one of his senses is overflowing with all of you: the feeling of your lips against his, the taste of your sweet breath in his mouth, the warmth of your skin brushing over his, the beat of your heart that he can feel through his fingertips, the sound of your quiet whimpers making his head spin. Goddammit you are eager, so willing to meet his advancements with everything you have; there is no question about what you want. And he cannot lie that he wants it too. You’ve both started down this path and there is no turning back; he knows it’s wrong, he knows he should stop, but he won’t.

You are in his veins, circling inside his mind, part of the very air he breathes; whatever risk comes with this could never outweigh the reward of getting to sate the hunger that has been driving him insane.

“Fuck it all,” he growls and suddenly his hands are under your arms and you are being hoisted up off the ground.

Your body reacts from pure instinct by spreading your legs wide and wrapping them around his broad hips, securing yourself to him with a clench of your thighs together. Simon knocks a gasp out of you as he slams your back up against the wall to use it for leverage, his body crushing yours as he begins to grind up into you with that throbbing, engorged cock that is straining to break the zipper of his pants.

Through your clothes he thrusts up into you with powerful strikes, hips rolling into yours over and over with desperation as he tries to get just a little bit more friction between your bodies. You use your thighs to help push yourself up off of him, bouncing over his crotch in response to mimic the way you’d fuck him.

Simon knows he shouldn’t go any further, that he should slow things down because this isn’t the place, but he won’t. Everything is already so close, but still not close enough. He needs the real thing, not this cheap imitation. Even in the haze of this delirious union, there is only one thing he knows he has to do.

He has to get you both naked.

Feverish fingers claw into the negative space between your bodies at the bottom of your shirt until Simon can find the hem. The cooler air outside of your clothing hits your skin with a tingle to make goosebumps appear as he pulls it up off your stomach and over the swell of your breasts.

“Lift up your arms,” he says quickly and your eyes flutter open so that you can follow the demand.

In one swift motion the shirt is off and Simon doesn’t waste any time in ripping off his shirt as well. The feeling of skin to skin sends shivers of ecstasy down his spine as he presses against you. So soft, so warm, fucking hell is he in over his head. He leans in, bending forward so that he can kiss the tops of your breasts through your bra as he hands wander again between your bodies to the clasp on your pants.

Just as his fingers loop through the waistband, you hear the tail end of it. There is no mistaking it, it’s the signature sound of the door to the armory closing shut. You have no time to act as a private with a message from Captain Price enters in a hurry, not paying attention, and stumbles upon something he shouldn’t have under no fault of his own.

“Lt. Riley, Price needs to see y–” the messenger says as he finally looks up, immediately stopping dead in his tracks as his cheeks flush bright red at coming face to face with the two of you half naked and twined together.

The private is tripping over his words as an exasperated growl shuts him right up. “Outside; now,” Simon barks harshly through a heavy pant as he turns his head enough to lock eyes with the now terrified private. Quickly the young man turns tail and bolts for the door, stumbling over his feet to get out as fast as he physically can. Once the click from the door closing shut is heard, those brown eyes turn back to you.

Simon draws in a deep breath before his head falls forward to rest up against yours, foreheads pressed together as he just holds onto you for a moment. “Goddammit,” he curses under his breath in disappointment.

Carefully he untangles his body from yours and sets you back down onto your feet. “Times up,” he repeats the phrase that ended your encounter the last time, though his tone is markedly more miserable this time, and you can’t help the way your stomach knots tightly.

Simon grabs all your clothing back up off the ground, handing you your shirt back as he goes to put his own back on. You immediately redress and straighten your uniform as best you can with your unsteady hands. Everything gets tucked back in place once again as you wait for him to head out without a word, since this seems to be following a certain pattern now.

But instead of simply walking away leaving you to agonize about if you will ever get a chance like this again, his arm reaches out and those long gloved fingers wrap around your belt buckle, gripping it tight in his hand so that he can drag you back against him. The other hand finds its way under your chin to force you to maintain eye contact with him; he needs you to hear him and make no mistake about what he is saying.

“This isn’t over,” he murmurs as he guides your head forward to place one last, lingering kiss on your lips before he breaks away to situate his mask back down over his face.

With that he turns and heads outside to the private patiently waiting to finish giving him the message from the captain. You let your eyes follow him the entire way out the door and only when he’s gone do you finally release the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

This isn’t over. The words repeat on a loop in your mind. Fuck, you sure hope so.

Now the question is: when?

Tagging: @spooky-pomegranate

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keyotos · 11 months

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eyes on you

summary: when do the hsr men have their eyes on you?

includes ⎯ dan heng, gepard, blade, sampo & jing yuan

tana's words ⎯ i am OBSESSED w the sound "all these girls look good but i got my eyes on you." so that's what inspired me to write this. this is sickenly sweet btw.

dan heng

⎯ let’s be real this man always has his eyes on you. he is probably watching you to look out for you. but that’s just in a romantic sense.

⎯ dan heng is the observer type. he watches and he learns.

⎯ he watches you quite a lot. he always tries to brush it off as trying to make sure you don't break anything, but march & stelle know better. even you aren't that klutzy.

⎯ dan heng watches what you eat to find out what you enjoy. he watches how you react to certain things to see if you dislike them or not. in short, he observes (watches) you to find out how to be better for you. he wants to be the best version of himself, and that includes knowing what all your favorite things are.

⎯ he definitely logs all the information he knows about you in his little data base. it's like his notes app, but a notes app for nerds.

⎯ march & stelle insist he just ask you, but nooooooo, because that would seem like he doesn't know anything about you. in reality, he knows plenty.

⎯ you would think that, judging on how much he stares at you, he would know how to not get caught. WRONG. you've caught him on multiple occasions.

one time, when the world around you was surprisingly peaceful, you and dan heng went to go get food for march & stelle. after you ordered their food you guys sat down at a table (bc you all were meeting up) with their food. you eyed the food carefully before stealing a sip of stelle's drink.

⎯ "she won't mind!" she did. but that's okay.

when you took a sip out of stelle's drink, dan heng was watching you closely to see if you would enjoy it. if you enjoyed it, he'd get one for you the next time you guys come. while he's staring, he loses track of his original goal and begins noting other things. the crinkle of your eyes when you smile at the taste of the drink. the way your whole face lights up.

⎯ "take a picture, it'll last longer," you caught him and smiled. dan heng leaves his trance and begins to blush.

⎯ "that is such a ridiculous line," he shakes his head, trying to deflect the fact that he's been caught. he has his eyes on you one more time to see you smirking at him.

⎯ he now takes candid photos of you because of that line.

gepard

⎯ due to his captain position, you guys never got to see each other often. any free time you had was treated with utmost importance and no time could be spared. gepard barely had any time to set any eyes on you.

⎯ when bronya became the supreme guardian and when the fragmentum dispelled, everything changed. gepard now had more free time, which meant he had more time with you. time that could be spent doing nothing but just admiring the way you look.

gepard hasn't seen you in weeks. with the final clearance of the fragmentum monsters, he was gifted a few weeks of clarity with you. when he got home, he immediately showered and tried his best to look good for you.

when he saw you for the first time, you literally took his breath away. it was as if you glowed; you were nearly as radiant as the bright sun that was shining down on your face. gepard's eyes and his attention were only on you.

⎯ you and the guy that was standing next to you.

⎯ WHO IS THIS MAN????? did you finally get tired of endless waiting? did you feel lonely? does he treat you well? is he nice? does he listen to all your rants? is he there to kiss you goodnight?

⎯ gepard's thoughts are interrupted when he hears your voice. he sees you running over to him and then you're pulling him.

you grab his arm, pulling him towards the new guy. gepard was initially worried about what was going to happen next, but all was forgotten when he felt your arm tangled around his once again; he immediately leaned into your warm touch. instead of looking at the new guy, his eyes follow you at all times. gepard's fond expression is seen by all except himself.

his absence from your grace allowed him to forget every small detail about you. the way your smile grew as you spoke about your relationship (gepard blushed). the way you got all excited when you were introducing people. the way your voice goes up an octave when you get excited.

every time you pull yourself closer to his body, gepard is on the verge of combustion. he’s been touch starved for so long, he couldn’t wait for until you guys went home. he just wanted to be in bed or on the couch with you, simply relaxing in sweet nothing.

for now though, gepard waited for the conversation to end.

⎯ when the conversation is over, you and gepard have a small conversation.

"sooo, were you listening to me or staring at me during that whole thing?" you smirked. when gepard's face blushed, you couldn't help but smile. "i wasn't cheating on you if that's what you were worried about," you pulled him closer using the collar of his shirt, "i missed you too, by the way," and pulled him in for a kiss.

blade

⎯ blade doesn't consider himself to be the staring type. he's more, less talking (staring), more action (i'll let you guys interpret).

⎯ but how could he not stare at you when you look so peaceful. you're sleeping in his bed, wrapping in his blankets, and snoring without a care in the world.

⎯ had the snoring not been so loud, blade wouldn't have woken up to find such an endearing moment.

⎯ now, blade has been staring at your sleeping figure for longer than he would like to admit. he's been watching the rise and fall of your chest. listening to the snores getting quieter and then louder once more. he cannot tear his eyes off of your peaceful state.

blade brushes pieces of stray hair away from your face. he puts his hand over your sleeping figure, as if he was trying to protect you from the evils in the night. at this moment, however, there were no evils. just you and him in the moonlight. maybe it was the domesticity of the whole situation that made him continue his one-sided staring contest. with all the fighting and destruction going on in the universe right now, you are still next to him. you are here, and he is listening to you snore.

⎯ it's when you shuffle around the best, blade gets scared. he's scared he woke you up and ruined this domestic moment. his hand recoils away from your body.

⎯ when you turn, you are still asleep. it seems you were just readjusting yourself. readjusting yourself closer to him, that is. you went from back facing him to your front facing him.

⎯ blade watched your face as you slept. you looked so beautiful with the pale moonlight shining down on your face. normally, you complained that you couldn't sleep with the moon shining on your face, so that's why you slept with your back facing towards blade.

⎯ but tonight, blade has never gotten a chance to admire how the moonlight reflects on the shapes of your faces. your eyes, your lips, your nose.

⎯ it's when you put a hand on his knee, blade nearly jumps back. not out of fear (slightly out of fear), but because he thought he woke you up by breathing. he was confused.

you put your hand on his knee, in a sleeping daze. usually, at night, you are always physically touching your boyfriend somehow. but tonight, he is awake, watching you. your small act of physical touch was a beckoning for him to go to sleep and be with you.

⎯ blade grabbed your hand and slipped back under the covers with you. this time, after admiring one last glimpse of your sleeping face, he tugged you closer to him and you both fell asleep.

sampo

⎯ there are many formidable fighters in boulder city. that's a fact. fighting is the way of many in the underworld. sampo has seen it first hand.

⎯ sampo had not, however, seen a fighter as formidable as you.

⎯ he stumbled upon one of dig's matches at the right time. there was a crowd leading out to the door; it peaked sampo's curiosity. he had intentions of selling items at first, which is why he was shuffling through the crowd to get into the center. but when he saw you in the ring, beating everyone in your path, his beginning intentions were forgotten.

⎯ his eyes were glued to you: he was obsessed with the way you moved, the way you glided across the ring, the way you confidently destroyed all your enemies. he found you entrancing, and he had to see you after the match.

⎯ you’re no underground idiot. you’re aware of sampo koski and his costly scams. when he comes up to you after your match, you were about to run away. still, something about his presence made you want to stay.

when you turned around, you were faced with sampo koski hovering over you. “can i help you?” you asked in a raised tone.

“yes,” sampo smiled. you were interested in where this conversation was going, and you were curious on why sampo chose you to be his next victim. “mind teaching me some moves?”

⎯ you expected a lot of things in this situation. scamming, coy flirtation, winks, etc. you did not expect this.

⎯ you almost stumble back in shock. why does he want to know self-defense tips?? who are the people he’s scamming??????

you’re silent for several beats before sampo begins again, “you’re the best fighter in the underground, honest. and,” he dragged on the word to drag out the conversation, “that means you can help me!”

⎯ if sampo was really being honest with himself, he could’ve asked any other person in the ring. anyone else would’ve shown him self-defense; they liked him. you probably did not (judging by your expression).

⎯ instead, he wanted you. he told himself it was because you were the best fighter in the ring and you were talented. but deep down, it’s because he couldn’t keep his eyes off your performance the entire time; he was encapsulated by you.

“flattery will get you nowhere,” you patted his shoulder and started to walk away; however, sampo’s hand lightly grabs onto your arm, urging you to stay. and for some reason, you don’t let go.

“cmon,” he smirked, and it was weirdly attractive, “what if i need a bodyguard?”

⎯ maybe it was the tone of his voice. maybe it was the way he looked at you. maybe it was the way he held onto you, but he didn’t hold on too tight. whatever it was that night, it convinced you to stay by his side for a long time.

jing yuan

⎯ he can’t take his eyes off of you when he sees you in the courtyard playing chess with yanqing.

⎯ it's a sight for sore eyes, seeing you and yanqing together. the way you two got along so well made jing yuan's heart swell. seeing you two was like feeling the warm sun after a chilly day.

⎯ jing yuan has never expected you to stay for so long. his life has been full of troubles: intense training at a young age, the death of his master, taking on yanqing as his apprentice, and probably more to come. and yet, you've stayed by his side.

⎯ you are here. and you are alive and you are well. with a life full of loss, jing yuan is happy you are still here. he’s happy that you are smiling and laughing and you are doing mundane things such as playing chess.

⎯ it’s a simple activity. it’s calm and it’s peaceful and there’s no harm coming your way. life seems good for once, and jing yuan thinks he can get used to this as long as you were around him. he finds that peace comes along when you are around anyway.

“darn it! how did you see that?!” yanqing exclaimed, shocked by your recent move in chess. you simply smiled in retaliation, “dunno. face it kid, i am just that good.”

“hey! i was close to getting you though,” the boy reminded you. jing yuan was getting closer now to eavesdrop on your conversation. “key word being close,” you snickered.

⎯ who knew the way into jing yuan’s heart was banter and chess? the more he listened to your conversation, the more his heart swelled. the way you got along so easily with yanqing made him all warm and happy inside; it was such a domestic sight to see.

jing yuan approached your battle with yanqing and sat down next to you. like a moth to a light, you immediately leaned into his body, and jing yuan had to fight off the urge to pull you closer to him.

⎯ yanqing didn’t notice anything, as he was too focused on the chess game. he moved one of his pieces that were then followed by one of your chess pieces.

“you know i was the one who taught your master how to play chess?” you blurted out to yanqing as you followed his pieces around the board. jing yuan looked at you fondly, eyes never leaving your face.

“that’s why i’m so good,” you smirked, “and that’s also why i’m smart enough to do this,” you somehow managed to trap all of yanqing’s pieces, and one by one you started to take them all.

⎯ jing yuan had to hold in his laughter as he watched yanqing’s jaw drop to the floor as you give a low chuckle. jing yuan’s eyes went back to your face, and he thinks that this is nice. he could get used to this.

um yk idk if this is good or not but hopefully u guys enjoy this lol

#tana writes (∗´ ᨔ `∗)#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #gepard x you #gepard x reader #blade x reader #blade x you #gepard landau x reader #sampo x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #i am on a grind #will definitely be using fighter!reader for other hcs/fics/drabbles

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discopaddock · 2 months

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I DON'T WANNA TALK - CHARLES LECLERC

SUMMARY: charles is mad after the bad race, what can go wrong after screaming at his girlfriend?

PAIRING: charles leclerc x fem!reader

GENRE: angst with happy (???) ending

WORD COUNT: 0.9k

WARNINGS: screaming, crying, charles is mad, traumatizing childhood and parent, ENGLISH ISN'T NY FIRST LANGUAGE

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hiya, was inactive for a (longer) moment, school still sucks, inspiration is taking offence at me and history at school does kill me right now fr (we started the great war recently and watched im westen nichts neues - i hate this kind of films). anyway this was based in this request.

Charles was angry. No, he was furious.

Race didn't go well. He had to retire after Perez touched him and he ended up in the wall.

Race was good, for two laps he was even leading but then the Mexican showed up and Charles’ good race said “bye bye”.

“Charles,” his girlfriend said after they were finally in their hotel room.

He wasn't in the mood for talking. He didn't want her pity. He wanted to take a shower (another one) and scream in his pillow.

The girl was looking at him, worried. This wasn't the state she has seen him for many times. It was the first time actually.

“I don't wanna talk” he answered only and grabbed some clothes of his and entered the bathroom.

“If you’d like to-” she started but he turned around to face her with anger written on his face, panting.

“Shut up!” Charles yelled at her and entered the bathroom. She was left speechless. There were tears forming in her eyes that started falling down when she heard the slam of the door.

Oh, she really didn't want it to come back.

Life was good, great even, then those memories came to her mind, causing another session of crying.

The girl had no idea what to do.

Her eyesight wasn't so clear as she was looking for the tissues, convinced that her make up was smeared as hell.

When she finally found some in her bag, she next jumped on the bed and covered herself with the blanket.

Her heart was hurt, it didn't crack in shatters but still it hurt as hell.

She felt like that seven year old girl, who was standing in front of her father, crying because he yelled at her.

She was screamed at because of trying to make her dad come to terms with her beloved mother.

It was too much for little Y/N. It hunted her for years.

Especially now, when her and Charles were trying everything to have a baby. She was frightened she became the same as her father and her child would have to experience the same case as she had.

And now it was too much for adult Y/N.

She knew she should meet her therapist as soon as she could but she couldn't since she was travelling with her boyfriend around Asia for the next two weeks and her therapist wasn't doing online appointments.

And there she was, still lying on her side of the king-size bed covered with a blanket and still crying.

Charles wasn't aware of his girlfriend's reaction to his behaviour until he left the bathroom, all showered and with a clear mind, and heard sobs in the room.

He sighed only and went to the bed and took a seat beside the girl. He carefully took off the blanket of her face and saw her with smeared make up, red eyes and runny nose.

She didn't want to talk with him and put her head in the pillow, so he couldn't look at her.

“I'm sorry-” he started but her hushed by the pillow voice interrupted him with:

“I don't wanna talk.”

So Charles didn't talk more but kissed her head quickly and left to the living room, to give her space he knew she needed.

The next hour went, well, silent.

Y/N wasn't sobbing anymore, just blowing off her nose and coughing from time to time. Charles at the other hand was thinking about his new song and was trying to write any notes but he lacked at stave paper and at any keyboard or piano.

The girl finally got out of the bed and entered the bathroom. She grabbed some cotton pads and put micellar water on it and began to remove her make up.

It was a heavenly feeling for her, since her eyelids were sticking to each other because of the mascara.

Next she grabbed some cleaning foam and removed the rest of the cosmetics and put on the cream.

The girl left the bathroom and went to Charles who was sitting on the couch with some folded paper around.

He heard her steps and turned around to see her face.

“Ready to talk?” he asked only and she nodded, then sat beside him. “I'm sorry, truly” he said, looking into her eyes, that he loved so much. Now they were puffed and red from the crying.

“I know” she answered and hugged him like a koala. Charles wrapped his arms around her body, without saying any words.

“What happened?” the man asked, rubbing her back with his palm. “Tell me, I'm not leaving this without any explanation,” he added in a calm tone.

The girl was silent for a few moments. But then she told him only:

“Father was screaming at me for trying to help.”

Charles was speechless. He knew his girlfriend’s relationship with her father wasn't good, but he didn't know it was that bad. He never asked since her mother told him not to for the girl's mental state.

“I'm sorry, dove. I'm so sorry” he whispered to her ear, trying to comfort her the best he could.

“I don't want to be like him” she mumbled in the crock of his neck and he sighed.

“You are not like him,” he assured her. “You will never be like him,” he added and kissed her temple. “You are a better person than him, dove.”

“I love you” she mumbled.

“I love you too” she whispered back and they remained silent for the rest of the night, cuddled in each other’s arms.

masterlist

#discopaddock #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 oneshot #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #charles lecrelc #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc one shot

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strangerstilinski · 14 days

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𝙞𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

word count: 2.5k warnings: none really, fluffy ending, steve is kind of a dick, mention of alcohol, gender neutral reader (pls let me know if i missed anything) based on that scene in tasm where peter spins gwen around to kiss her — with just a dash of enemies to lovers

It should go without saying that Steve Harrington is the bane of your goddamned existence. If the two of you aren't at each other's throats, it typically just means that you're both doing your best to pretend the other doesn't even exist.

And, sure, maybe it drives you a little bit insane that he seems to get along just fine with every person in your friend group except for you. It was like you pushed buttons that Steve wasn't even aware he had.

Nancy finds the whole thing amusing, says that Steve's clearly so in love with you that he doesn't know how to handle it. Eddie swears that Steve looks at you with hearts in his eyes, though any time you've caught his stare those ‘hearts’ tended to look a whole lot more like daggers. Argyle and Robin both insist that love and hate tread a very thin line, and eventually, a little push will have the two of you stumbling head over heels into each other's waiting arms. Johnathan tends to stay out of it, but then, he doesn't really need to say anything, because you've seen that look he gives you when he catches you looking a little too long at the moles dotted along the length of Steve's throat, or that stubborn lock of hair that tumbles over his brow bone, or the way his tongue pokes out and his eyes narrow cutely when he's concentrating-

You hate it. You hate Steve. Even now, you swear you hate him, regardless of the way you shamelessly ogle the curve of his bicep when he reaches across the back of the sofa to drape his arm loosely behind Robin's shoulders. You've accepted it. At this point, allowing yourself to admire his stupidly handsome physique was merely reparations for being forced to put up with him on a near-daily basis. Compensation for the never-ending bad attitude that he seemed to direct solely at you.

“Does anyone hear that?” Steve's voice speaks louder than your own suddenly, effectively cutting you off even though you'd been in the middle of a sentence. His eyes meet yours for just a brief second before his gaze is moving elsewhere, “It’s like, this annoying buzzing sound?” He's sitting up a little straighter following his interruption, brows drawing together like he's listening intently for something.

His sudden line of questioning has thoroughly derailed your train of thought. The longwinded story you'd been regaling to the group about a customer at work is cut short, the words dissolving on your tongue as your try to work out what on earth Steve is referring to. Until his interruption, you hadn't heard anything.

“What are you even talking abou-”

“There!” He cuts you off once more, “There it is again! Did you hear that, Robs?” The fingers he nudges into his best friend's ribs makes her squirm away with a deep laugh.

“Are you seriously implying that I'm the-”

“God, you are hearing that, right?” Steve interrupts with an irritatingly pleased grin on his face, “Like nails on a chalkboard-”

Though Robin's laughter isn't actually directed at you, your face burns hotly anyway. A pity-filled smile graces her lips when she meets your gaze after escaping the wrath of Steve's tickling, and the boy's chuckles of amusement only serve to make you grind your teeth together in irritation.

“Real mature, dickhead.” You snap, snatching up the beer you'd set down on the coffee table when Eddie had actually asked you about your day a few minutes before. “I was in the middle of a story.”

“Yeah, no offense, honey, but I don't think any of us were that invested hearing you talk about the ‘big tip’ that some douchebag with a hand tattoo left you.” Steve grumbled with a roll of his eyes, “If your stories weren't so boring, maybe we wouldn't all be sitting here hoping for a hole in the earth to open up under us just so we don't have to keep listening to-”

“Steve, c'mon man-” Eddie tries, though his voice is drowned out by your own.

“Jesus, do you have to be such an asshole all the time?” You snap in Steve's direction.

“I'm just saying,” Steve shrugged, “Probably the only reason he left such a big tip was because pulled the wrong bill out of his wallet. It sure as hell wasn't 'cause of your shining personality.”

“What, and just 'cause you're a jackass that means no man could ever possibly find me appealing?” You bite back.

“Yeah, well, your pretty face doesn't quite make up for your constant need for attention.”

“My need for attention?” You scoff incredilously, beer slamming back down onto the tabletop in front of you as the rest of your friends seem to fade even further into the background. “You're the one who can't stand when the focus is on me for ten fucking seconds.”

“Well I don't care if some prick hit on you at work-” Steve argues, “So, I guess, if that makes me an asshole-”

“It does, as a matter of fact,” You interrupt easily, “Because I'm constantly listening to you whine about your conquest of the week, and I'm able to do so without acting like a fucking-”

“Careful,” Steve hums, cocky little smirk reemerging on his lips, “You're sounding a little jealous, there, honey.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“'S my house,” He returns just as quickly, “How 'bout you fuck off.”

The blood in your veins is full of fire. Your face is burning with rage and your eyes prickle traitorously with frustrated tears, because that customer from your story? That was the highlight of your day, because the rest of it had been a fucking disaster.

You'd slipped on freshly mopped floors and dropped an entire table's drink orders. You'd been forced to finish your shift with sticky, soda pop-soaked socks squelching wetly in your shoes with every step. Your boss had given you shit, even though it was one of your coworkers who had failed to put out the wet floor sign in the first place. You'd burned yourself on a hotplate, twice. And then, after all that, you'd had no choice but to take an ice-cold shower before heading over to Steve's house, because the hot water heater in your decrepit apartment building was apparently broken. Again.

“Y'know what? Fine.”

You're already rising to your feet, wiping the palms of your hands down your jeans to dry the lingering condensation from your beer. You blink furiously to push back the tears that had been pooling at your waterline, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the turn in your evening.

“Wha-” Steve is watching you with something like concern in his eyes now, “Wh-Where're you goin'?”

“I'm leaving,” You announce, gaze steadfastly avoiding where Steve has removed his arm from around Robin's shoulders so he can sit at the edge of the couch, like he's planning to rise to his own feet at any moment. “I, um. I'll talk to you guys later.”

There are protests from everyone, but you don't bear them any mind. You're already turning on your heel and moving toward the entryway with hurried steps. The front door slams shut behind you before you've even gotten your jacket all the way on. You've still got one arm still struggling to find the hole of your sleeve when you hear the door swing back open behind you.

“Hey! Wait up.”

Steve's voice does make you slow where you've begun to move down the driveway, though you don't turn around. Your steps finally come to a stop when he calls out to you again.

“C'mon, honey wait, wait, wait-”

You blow out a frustrated breath as he finally catches up with you, your arms crossing over your chest like that might somehow put up a physical barrier between the two of you.

“I really don't want to do this with you, Harrington. Alright?” An air of defeat laces your words, one hand coming up to rub at the headache that’s begun to pulse between your brows, “Just.. Not tonight.”

You move to step around him and the heel of your boots click against the pavement once, twice. But then something hooks into the belt loop on your jeans and you're tugged back around. You lose your footing at the unexpected shift in momentum, knees wobbling unsteadily for just a moment before you're twirled back around to face him and then your palms are meeting a firm chest.

The adrenaline has your brain whiting out for just a moment, any and all thoughts screeching to a halt. There’s warmth seeping into your palms from beneath Steve’s tshirt. The racing of your own heart in your ears drowns out the distant sound of laughter and the opening trailers of a movie rental coming from inside. Your eyes are level with his chin, wide gaze locked on his lips as they quirk up at one corner with his gentle smirk. You’re still standing pigeon-toed between his own larger feet, a little off balance but held firmly in place by the wide hand splayed across your waist.

“I'm sorry.” Steve says quietly.

It’s only been a second or two since he dragged you back into his space, and to your surprise, his head dips, just a fraction. Steve brushes his nose against your own, a gentle stroke that sends butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. The cool mint clinging to his breath fans out over your face smelling of the gum he’s always chewing and smacking obnoxiously, but the scent this close is intoxicating. The hand he brings up to cradle your jaw is intoxicating. The loose flap of leather on his watch that tickles at the side of your throat. The way he’s leaning in-

The passion he kisses you with, from the moment your lips touch, is intoxicating. It's all-encompassing. You can’t think, and you’re not sure you’re even breathing, but his lips are moving in unhurried synchronization with your own. Your knees are weak. You’re gripping the material of his shirt in your fists just for something to hold onto, but Steve’s arm is curled tight around the curve in your spine now to hold you steady.

His tongue brushes against your lips, licking softly at the seam of your mouth like he's asking for permission. The desperate sound that crawls up your throat at just that quick brush of his tongue nestles in the depths of Steve's brain where he files it away for later. He hitches his arm even tighter at your waist, pulling your stomachs flush until your chest heaves against his own.

Your head is a little fuzzy when your lips separate long enough for you to take a breath, and you’re gasping comically in an effort to fill your lungs. Steve’s quiet chuckle meets your ears, his hand sliding back from your jaw to cup the back of your neck.

“You kissed me.” The words fall from your lips in a whisper of disbelief. Your eyes are still closed, lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks. You’re terrified if you open them even a crack, the entire scene will suddenly fade away around you like some kind of dream. The airy cadence of your voice is partially due to your surprise, but also thanks to the far-too-easy grace with which you've been spun and manhandled and swept entirely off your feet.

“I did,” Steve agrees just as quietly, “I did do that.”

His forehead meets your own as your eyes flutter open and he simply holds you there for a moment, nose dragging across your cheek before he presses another quick kiss to your lips. His head tilts, thumb stroking soft over the side of your throat before his mouth finds yours again, and again. These kisses are different — casual, tender, sweet and unhurried. Like he’s kissing you just because he can.

“You-” Is all you manage to get out before your words are silenced by his lips slotting between your own, but you carry on with barely a pause as you click apart once again, “Y'r still doing it.”

“Mhm.” He hums easily, the sound rumbling beneath your hands on his chest.

“Why-”

Kiss.

“Are you-”

Kiss.

“Kissing me?”

Steve’s breath mingles hotly with your own in the narrow breadth of space between your parted lips, “D’you want me to stop?”

“No. Hell no.”

And there's that perfect smile of his. Straight teeth make an appearance as his lips quirk up at the corner, a breathy spearmint scented laugh that sounds a little too relieved for the casual coolness that he's clearly trying to give off. His mouth opens like he's going to say something, but no words seem to come. Lips parted, throat bobbing as he swallows around the heavy silence weighing down his tongue.

He looks so pretty like this, you think. The light shining above your heads catches in his brown eyes, caramel sparking with flecks of gold and green that you've never noticed before, but you're sure you'll never be able to forget the sight of it now. You're still sharing breaths, faces so close that you can't avoid watching the way his full lashes blink at you dumbly. As if he isn't the one who spun you around and pulled you close and effortlessly gave you the best kiss of your entire life. As if, maybe, he didn't quite expect to make it this far, and now he's at a loss for how to proceed.

You release his shirt from your fist, the fabric crinkled and stretched with how tight you'd been gripping it, only to slide your hand up the back of his neck. The tip of his nose catches the bottom of your own, lips brushing faintly while your hand finds a new home in his hair. The soft strands tangle between your fingers when you give it a gentle tug and push up on your toes to draw yourself impossibly closer.

“If I'd known kissing you was all it took to shut you up, Harrington, I would've done it ages ago.” Your quip lacks its usual bite, but it breaks the silence between you, and it also seems to break Steve out of whatever spell he'd fallen under.

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he searches for an appropriate response, “Maybe we'll just have to keep kissing then.”

You find yourself swaying just a little on your feet at the way his eyes flick slow back and forth between your own, “Maybe we will.”

When his lips descend on your own again, it takes ages before he lets you back up for a decent breath of air, and even then he parts from you with obvious reluctance. You're both breathing heavy, lips a little swollen and shining wetly. Steve's expression has a warmth that you realize you've never actually seen directed at you before. Steve smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and suddenly all you can think about is what Eddie has said a hundred times over.

It’s like there are hearts in his eyes.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve x you #steve x reader #*

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sacharinee · 11 months

Text

pairing: bestfriend!peter parker x fem!reader

sypnosis: after peter misses his chance to ask you out to the homecoming dance, he has to suffer the consequences of his own actions

wc: 1200+

a/n: hiii!! i have the urge to write again bc im bored and i dont wanna do my summer course work. this prompt is based on this post and loosely based on that one scene in the movie ladybird when she gets picked up by her date. i wrote this super quickly so not the best but i hope u enjoy :)

peter had it first. he had the idea, the flowers, the poster, your favorite chocolate strawberries all ready for you. until brad davis came in and stole everything.

now he has nothing. he’s on your bed munching on the melty strawberries as he watches you get ready for the dance; you’ve asked for his help in choosing which dress you should go for.

“okay how ‘bout this one, pete?” the boy glances up at you, mid-chew with his mouth open.

his eyes snake over the outfit you’ve chosen. you do a swift twirl to show off the pretty soft blue satin dress that falls down to your mid-thigh with an open back. the skirt of your dress rides a bit high revealing a little too much. peter gulps, running his hands down his legs, immediately your sweet honey perfume floods his senses, his brain feels a little fuzzy, and he thinks the room gets smaller while his pants get a tiny bit tighter.

however, your eyes are what he takes in the most. you look eager, nervous about his approval, and hopeful for his admission.

his eyes widen as he gives you a soft nod and a pursed smile, “super pretty.”

you stare back at peter, his hair is flared, and you see chocolate smeared on his bottom lip. his posture looks defeated and you can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with him.

you give him a sour yet confused face, “why is your face like that?”

peter’s eyebrows furrow at your expression, “my face- why is my face like what?”

“like…” you take a moment to think, “like- you look like that chef in that one movie with the rat, he’s got that same awkward funny looking face.”

peter barks out a laugh in disbelief, “alfredo linguini?? from ratatouille?!” “yea! that guy.”

the boy in front of you offers you a pout and rubs his eyes, “thanks.”

“sure thing.” peter glazes over your seamless makeup when you take a seat next to him, “so, you’re really not coming? why not? it’ll be fun, plus all of our friends are going” you whine.

peter kicks himself every day since you got asked out to homecoming by brad. he knows he should have made his proposal to you sooner, but now that he missed his chance, he feels like he’s lost you.

“oh, so brad’s our friend now? and nah, it’s alright. i’m just gonna go patrolling tonight, might get some good action.” his eyebrows suggestively

you muster up a smirk and breathe out a laugh, “right. maybe you’ll find your own ‘cupid of crime’ that’ll show you a good time.”

peter groans at you, “oh my god, margot robbie is so-”

honk!

“oh,” your ears perk up at the sudden interruption, “i guess that’s my date.” you quickly stand up and straighten your dress, taking nervous breaths.

“i’m good right? my dress? face? hair?” your fingers run through your shiny locks, “its- i’m, i’m okay?”

peter has an indiscernible look plastered on his face as he gazes out the window and back at you. he’s shocked you’d settle for this, and even more appalled at you’re excitement to go with a douchebag who can’t even meet you at the front door. he knows you deserve better than this, and he knows he would treat you so much better with much less than your date. his stomach turns upside down and he feels his face get hot, breathing through his nostrils as he struggles to control his disbelief. he slowly stands up and meets your anxious expression peering up at him.

“you aren’t gonna get in a car with a guy who honks, are you?”

it’s almost as if the entire atmosphere shifts. peter studies your appearance. your face shimmered sanguinely regardless, brighter than the glitter that sparkled atop your eyelids.

it was safe to say you were excited to go to the dance, even if your date wasn’t your first choice. you had been waiting endlessly for peter to ask you to homecoming. you were almost depressed at the thought thinking your crush didn’t like you back, but even more upset at the fact that your best friend didn’t even want to take you as his date, romantically or not.

you remembered the feeling of delight swirling through your body as betty gushed about ned asking her to the dance, and mj agreeing to harry’s proposal.

you only wanted the same for yourself. the same thrill and warm feeling of someone wanting to take you as their date. you wanted more than anything for it to be peter, but you figured he simply didn’t think of you like that as empty time and hopeless anticipation went by. so yes, you did settle for brad davis. he’s only ever been sweet to you, with harmless flirting and sultry smiles in the halls. plus you had a hunch about peter’s displeasing stance on the man, and presumed this may have tipped peter over just the right amount.

you simply blink at his desperate eyes and nod, your adamant expression not wavering, “i think, yes, i am.”

you offer him a wistful smile when you brush past him, grabbing your purse on the way.

“y/n, stop.” peter’s finger’s wrap around your small wrist, your charm bracelet dangling against his hand.

“are you serious? what, the shithead can’t walk a few feet and knock on the door like a real man?”

“peter!” you snatch your wrist back and his hands rise.

you feel heat rushing up your neck and settling behind your ears. you had wanted a reaction out of peter when brad asked you out, yes, but the entitlement he has to mention about the manhood of brad angered you.

“i’m just saying,” he steps back from you, licking his dry lips while he chuckles back at you. “a guy who doesn’t have the balls to greet you at your doorstep isn’t worth falling for.”

you scoff at him, he was so sweet and now he’s only taking his anger out on you. “well it’s a good thing that he’s just a friend then. what’s it to you anyways?”

peter disregards your last statement, “a friend?! y/n/n, listen to me. you’re being naive if you think he just wants to be your friend.”

another honk outside pierces your ears, yet you can’t seem to shake your stare on the boy before you. you narrow your eyes at him.

“you sound jealous.”

peter sputters nonsense out and breaks his eyesight away from you, nervously running his hands through his curls.

“jealous? me? pfft. never. i’m not jealous, i’m- i’m being absolutely reasonable.”

you keep your eyes on him as he looks down at the carpet floor. he sighs and drops down at your chair, scratching the wood on your desk. his head shakes and ever so softly murmurs, “seriously, why are you going out with him?”

peter continues to stare at the rotten wood he’s chipping, “brad asked me to be his date, so i’m going whether you like it or not. unless,” peter glances back up at you.

“there’s something you’re not telling me.”

hope bubbles down in your stomach, and you anticipate his confession, waiting to hear the words of his true feelings that you know for certain are deep down inside him.

except, he doesn’t.

the boy only blankly stares at your desk, clenching his jaw, and drowns everything inside, letting you down yet another time. you turn away, disappointed in peter, ready to leave him alone for all the false hope and hurt he has caused you.

“right, well, when your balls finally drop, let me know. i’ll be at the dance with my date.”

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pizzaapeteer · 10 days

Text

Don't be so underestimating

Mattheo x f reader. Based off this kind-of request, a little subby mattheo. a/n: also ty to @mattyriddlesbitch for helping first discuss the idea with me.

Warnings: nsfw 18+, male receiving oral, cursing, praise, ravenclaw house mentioned.

Mattheo was happy to play along with your little suggestion, finding it admirable that you even had the courage to propose such a bold idea. There was a clear understanding of who was more dominant between you, and so he found no harm indulging in your notion. Finding hilarity in your sweet determination in convincing yourself that you could tie him down, and he’d just sit back and let you take control.

He had only raised a brow when you straddled him, pushing him back with a gentle shove, his body falling back against the headboards. An amused smirk rested on his face as he watched your intense level of focus at slipping the soft fabric gently around his wrists. “You know sweetheart, I don’t know if these will really be able to hold me,” his voice is edged with a teasing tone as he complies with your actions.

His eyes meet yours, loving the playful raise of your brows you give him while you continue bounding his wrist, the knot feeling hardly durable but he mentions nothing, just a small chuckle amused by your clear delusion at this actually working. When you're done, you move, running your hand under the underside of his chin, cupping it, you lift his jaw, pausing for a moment as you drown in the swirls of his brown orbs.

“Not underestimating me, are you now, baby?” your brow stays arched, as you gently caress the side of his cheek. It was hard to contain your excitement at what was about to happen, already feeling your body grow hot in anticipation of the unveiling. A project that had taken a few weeks to put together, but one that would be worth the work of knowing your boyfriend would be vulnerable and at your mercy.

He watches you with dark, curious eyes, his tongue flicking over his lips as you nestle back in between his legs. It’s just a matter of time before he interrupts, having no intention of letting you actually go through with whatever you're planning. A sarcastic smile appears, his eyes gleaming with hubris, not buying into your endeavor. “Of course not, sweetheart.”

At the feeling of your hands palming his member, he releases a breathy moan, his muscles tensing slightly. You glide your hand, rubbing along his length, feeling him harden more under your touch. Biting your lip, you struggle to hold back the devilish smile reaching to pull his boxers down, your eyes unable to look away.

Leaning your head down brushing your lips against the tip of his cock, slowly giving him gentle kitten licks. Another shaky moan is breathed out, his eyes gazing downwards, watching you taking your time to tease him. Your tongue swipes around his tip, swirling around the head as you lap at the leaking precum.

He watches, allowing you to have your moment of dominance, though that doesn’t last long as his hands are itching to grip your hair, his urge for control growing stronger. Feeling done with your teasing already and not wanting to endure this ‘submission’ any longer, he moves his hands to slip out of the restraints.

“What the -” his head flicks up to the pink coil as it tightens around his hand, binding him more firmly. His playful attitude drops instantly, feeling frustrated as he struggles to get out of the harsh grasp. His head snaps back to you, his eyes narrowing, lowering down onto your sadistic smirk, his jaw clenching at the situation he’s now trapped himself in.

With your head raised peering up at him, you chuckle, watching him struggle, your own eyes gleaming with satisfaction at having beguiled him to your will. “Aw, looks like you got a little problem there, baby." You mock teasingly, your lips still continuing to lap at the head of his cock, prepping kisses and small sucks.

His eyes flicker with a sense of irritation, inhaling sharply as you continue your torturous teasing, growling lowly, “sweetheart, whatever you're planning, it's not a good fucking idea.”

You ignore his warning, not taking your eyes off his heated glare, eyes penetrating into you so hard it sends ripples of heat down to your core. You lick a stripe up the length of his cock, relishing in the small grunts he’s trying hard to contain. You can’t believe you could even get him into this situation, your ego growing with every shaky breath he heaves.

Lapping at him for a bit more, you decide to stop the teasing slightly, sliding him into your mouth, only partly enjoying being in control. His hips lift instinctively, thrusting a little, attempting to push his cock further in your mouth, the urge to grab your hair and hold you becoming stronger the more you taunt. His eyes never drop his glare on you, though the small moans that tumble out of his mouth make it clear how much he’s enjoying this.

“Come on, don’t be a brat, baby. You're really pushing the line now.” His voice was husky and low, on the verge of cracking as he attempted to maintain his dominant tone. Your soft lips continue their slow, tortuous pace, inching further down his length. Sliding your hands up his toned thighs, rubbing your fingers down the inner skin, grazing them slowly against his balls.

A deep groan vibrates through his chest, his hands twitching in their tight grasp, feeling the ribbon squeeze his hands more, not enough to cut off any circulation. Still fuming at himself for letting himself even end up in this situation, unsure how this had even happened.

“Fuck, what did you do to these binds?” he chokes out, his hips lifting more, trying to gain any sort of friction from your plush lips. Oh, he fucking craved you in unimaginable ways, wanting to snap those binds, and stuff his cock deep down your sweet mouth, wiping that smug grin off your face.

You laugh at his attempt to take back control, sliding your lips down, taking him fully in your mouth. Still at a slow, merciless pace, you take him till he hits the back of your throat before sliding back up. You repeat the action, pausing at the bottom to let him rest in the warm embrace of your mouth.

Mattheo was fucking restless at your taunting attitude, wanting, needing you now. “Fuck baby, don’t do this to me. Just be a good girl for me and take me a little faster,” he pleaded, desperately trying to persuade you. The rope burned as it pierced at his skin the more he tugged on them. His breath hitches more, as he bites down on his lower lip, suppressing a whimper not wanting to fully submit and give into your control.

You smiled smugly, replacing your lips with your hand listening to the sharp exhale that leaves him, his brows scrunching together, frowning at you. You move to grip his base, pumping him antagonizing slowly, his hips jut, thrusting up into your hand, a low groan tumbling from his lips. You tilt your head, peering up at him with your lust blown eyes. “Your squirming won’t do anything baby, there’s only one solution for your little, or should I say, big, problem.”

You giggle at his earlier question, your hot breath hitting his sensitive skin as you lean forward, before answering his question you marvel at his hard cock, the tip red covered with your saliva, twitches as he groans frustratedly. “I had a little fun experimenting with devil snare. You pay attention in herbology, don’t you, Matty?”

His brows shoot up, eyes widening momentarily as he listens to your herbology enthused project, a bit surprised by how you had pulled this off. He was impressed, to say the least, but also itching for more finding the way you had deceived him so incredibly hot.

He loved whenever you outwitted him, though often his pride didn’t let him admit that. But caught tangled up in the tightness of the binds, a small whimper escapes him unwillingly, wanting to praise you for your impressive effort, “God, pretty girl, I fucking love your mind. Please, I need you.”

You release a satisfied moan as you retake his now painfully hard cock back in your mouth, enticing his own deep groan, no longer teasing him. Your pace increased, spurred on by his praise and plead. “Oh, that’s it baby, fuck yeah…taking my cock so well. Such a smart girl, love my fuckin smart raven.”

You whine at his words, your head bopping more, cheeks hollowing out as your nose repeatedly presses against his pelvis. Mattheo is unable to stop the fall of whimpers leaving his lips, feeling you deep throat him, his hips twitch, hands gripping the binds. Watching you take the lead, teasing and edging him on, had turned him on more than he thought possible.

As his climax rises, his hands move again and he whispers as the restrains tighten once more, his cock fucking hard and achy for some release. His head is thrown back, brows scrunched as he struggles to focus his eyes on your movements. “Baby, fuck…gods I’m going to fill your pretty mouth.”

He loved watching the way his cock disappeared behind the plump fullness of your lips, the sweet warm embrace of your mouth, tongue lapping and swirling around him. It was too much. It was driving him mad, his muscles convulses as he bucks his hips spilling a gag from you.

It’s not long before he’s coming with a loud groan, his hips lifting, shaking as he releases, spurting his seed down the back of your throat. His eyes rolling back, head leaning back against the headboard. Your mouth stays wrapped around him, your eyes burning with tears as you swallow his load. Your tongue swirls, licking him clean before you release him with a pop.

Your eyes gleam up at him, taking in the masterpiece of a mess you had made before you. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, the few front curls sticking to it. His face is flushed a pretty scarlet, not a colour you often saw adorn on those sweet cheeks. You can’t help but admire how pretty he looks, laying there hung so helpless, the sounds of his whimpers still ringing in your ear, etched in your brain forever.

You grabbed your wand and cast the spell, “Lumos Sumon," watching the binds unravel and roll back up into a small, neat ball. He rubbed his wrists a little glad at the feeling of his release, his chest still heaving as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. You move nestling further between his legs, your voice now laced with concern, “Didn’t hurt you, did I, baby?”

He shakes his head instantly, his hands reaching out to grab your chin, bringing it in for a sweet kiss. “Of course not, you never could,” he grins, placing another kiss under your jawline, relishing in your soft moan. “But you, on the other hand, you're in for some fucking punishment, raven."

masterlist

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #subby mattheo #mattheo riddle imagine #slytherin boys

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amoreva · 26 days

Note

girl i beg you i need reader x luke based on gorgeous by taylor swift... its been on my mind for like past week

FESS UP!

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pairing: luke castellan x reader

summary: you still have some unresolved feelings about a certain Hermes counselor.

warnings: cursing, implied reader is halfblood, sexual innuendo, dorky, drinking, kinda loser!reader

a/n: is it dorky? probably, lmk with feedback in the comments. every one is appreciated and helps me write towards your liking.

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You were a coward.

Not with everything, because gods forbid you’re afraid of monsters despite having demigod-blood in you.

No, you were a coward with confrontation. With emotions, with love. Mainly love. You couldn’t even confess to a someone without your stomach churning.

And how you expressed attraction was…not ideal, according to Silena. You kind of, sort of—just a tad made fun of some things you found attractive of them.

Ideally, you wanted to leave yourself out for the harpies to maul you when your crushes give you a look (you knew you fucked up).

Which is why you have stuck to the tactic of watch and admire from afar and be happy with just friendship.

A classic.

The bonfire burned high and orange as many of the older campers and counselors, including yourself, were hanging out without the responsibilities of taking care of your younger siblings.

The typical red solo cups were in the hands of every demigod. A mysterious mixture made by Dionysus’ twins, Pollux and Castor, occupied the container. They never told anyone the recipe or what’s in it, but it left a warm feeling in your chest.

“You keep staring and he’s bound to notice.” Silena sat next to you. “Or your eyes fall out.”

“I hate him. Why does he have to look like that?” You groaned and sipped your drink to distract you from your current crush.

Luke Castellan. The golden boy of Camp Half-Blood. He could charm anyone’s pants off with a smile. It was frustrating how good looking and friendly and cool and kind he was. Fuck him.

He was talking the Chris and Beckendorf about who knows what. Somehow, the Hermes counselor has yet to have a girlfriend. He’s probably a virgin. You could fix that.

“Honey…” Silena looked at you with concern in her eyes and a polite smile. “The whole sit and admire tactic is redundant. Talk to him.”

“Silena…” You whined and the girl was preparing herself to listen to your list of excuses of why you can’t.

“No, no—don’t whine like a baby!” Silena dumped the rest of her drink into your cup. Taking initiative, she made your chug like half. “Fess up or mess up! Take some liquid courage and go talk to him.”

“Silen—” You sputtered as your chest grew as warm as the bonfire. Your throat burned in a good way.

Whoever said Silena was the Camp’s Cupid was right and she was quite determined to get a start on pairing you and Luke. Just to see how it turns out, of course.

Next thing you know, you’re dragged over to Luke, Chris and Beckendorf; interrupting the boys’ conversation. Silena made up some lame excuse and said a quick introduction before shoving Chris and Beckendorf away from Luke and you.

Gods, he’s so gorgeous. His curly hair tosseles over his head. His eyes meeting yours as he sipped on his own drink. That amused smirk that paired so well with his scar—both working in favor of his boyish charm.

And suddenly he’s moving his mouth.

“Hey.” He said normal and polite as one would do. Obviously.

And you can’t help but think of Tangled. Specifically, the scene when Flynn Rider is tied up to a chair with Rapunzel’s hair. She interrogating him and all he could muster was a smolder and the word “Hey”, to try and charm his way out.

Luke looks out quizzically as you poorly try to stifle a mix between a giggle and a snort behind your hand. He must’ve thought you were crazy for laughing or extremely rude.

It’s frustrating how nervous you can be in front of your crushes.

“Hi—sorry…” You managed to quiet your laughs and awkwardly sip your drink. “I was thinking about how you remind me of Flynn Rider from Tangled. How are you?”

“Tangled?” Luke tilted his head in confusion. Oh gods, has this boy never experience Disney movies? This just made it even more terribly awkward if he didn’t get the reference.

“Y’know…the girl with the glowing hair locked in a tower until Flynn Rider gets her out to see the lanterns in exchange for the crown?” You explained.

“Oh! Rapunzel.” Luke nodded. “Yeah I remember that. I always loved the lantern scene.”

“Me too! I’ve always wanted to experience something like that.” You agreed and looked over at the bonfire. Silena and Beckendorf encouraging you to keep talking to him.

Though Luke and you fell silent. Your mind wracking topics to talk about with him, but all you can think of is how handsome he is. Now looks aren’t everything, but his personality was a gorgeous as Elysium.

“Gods, you are just so handsome.” You find yourself admitting without even thinking about it. You find the words to talk to him about anything and everything, but your stumble.

Luke grabbed your arm. Stars dotting your vision. The “liquid courage” Silena forced down your throat catching up to you. “Hey, I think that’s enough drinking. Yeah?”

“Yeah…” You mumble as Luke leads you away from the bonfire and towards your cabin.

“Let’s get you back to your bunk, yeah? S’not good to be so drunk now.” He cared enough to walk you back to your cabin! It left a warm feeling in your body, or that was the Dionysus twins’ special drink.

The cabin door creaks open and Luke procures some water. You drink it as Luke crouches to get your converse off. Again, your heart is warm inside, but that could just be the alcohol.

Luke laid your blanket over your body. An amused smirk on his face. He found you drunk cute. So, he decides to admit something hoping you’d remember tomorrow. You’re already half asleep when you hear this.

“I think you’re cute too. Let’s start out with watching Tangled first before we do anything, yeah?” Luke laughed quietly, trying not to wake your siblings. He wanted it to take it slow with you. Was this some drunk dream?

“Yeah…” You find yourself mumbling. Your eyes drooping shut before opening again. Struggling to stay awake to keep talking to Luke, you fall asleep.

Silena was a damn good Cupid.

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#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan pjo #pjo series #luke castellan imagine #percy series

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teacupwrites · 1 month

Text

Vox, Valentino, and Angel with Moth! Reader

Vox

You were a sunset moth, wings black on the outside with gorgeous rays of rainbows on the inside

Initially he wasn’t the biggest fan of having a constant reminder of Valentino as his right hand assistant

You were pretty calm, and honestly very laid-back with your emotions

You did what you were told and he liked that about you

Look- living in hell was hard and you needed a job, and you planned on keeping it

I like to think that moth demons usually keep their wings concealed in a similar way that Val does

So whether you use it as a coat, cape, skirt, dress? Vox doesn’t think too much of it at first

He was in a relationship with Valentino and even he hadn’t seen them all too much

Though little did he know that was the key to your emotions

One time, you were walking alongside Vox, updating him on his schedule and marking off any meetings he wished to cancel

But this dumb bitch kept interrupting you

It wasn’t uncommon for paparazzi to crowd at Vox- he was an Overlord, it’s to be expected

But this girl was being a real bitch

So you were quick to whip around, wings flaring and antenna unfurling as you seethed to the woman, nearly clawing her face off as she backed away

Then as she finally left, your wings drooped, but kept out, hanging behind you like a cape as you turned back to Vox, and read off the rest of his schedule

However, the TV headed Overlord wasn’t paying much attention, instead he was much more infatuated with the colorful wings perched on your back

They caught attention, his attention

You were useful, and he needed to take advantage of that

Ever since then Vox brought you around everywhere, which brought even more attention to you

Safe to say, you no longer reminded him of Valentino

Instead, you were the pretty little moth that helped bring more attention to his business

“I still don’t understand why you’re using me as a model,” you muttered, quirking an eyebrow as Vox held and observed your wings, handling them very delicately despite his excitement. “I mean- can’t you use Valentino?”

Vox hummed in reply, bringing his hands away to quickly copy down more commands into his computers, modeling out a robot that took the shape of a moth, a spy tool

“Because you’re wings are better than Val’s,” he quipped, coming back over and gently pressing down onto the base of your wings, the sensitive area just behind your shoulder blade. “And he wouldn’t let me.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back into his feeling touch with a grumble.

“Whatever.”

Valentino

Moth demons aren’t by any means completely rare, and Valentino knew that

It was just that most of them were…bland, lacking in color and any kind of beauty that would bring people to his studio

So he paid them no mind

But you were different

You were a rosy maple moth, colored bright pinks and yellows and attracting attention wherever you went

Valentino was out in a luxury restaurant with Vox and Velvette, discussing business

And then you came by, prancing in your little uniform as you brought them complimentary drinks since they were Overlords, carefully crafted alcohol each handed to him by one of your three free hands

To say Valentino was interested was an understatement

He purposely took a long time to order just so you could stay by for longer

You were quick and efficient, getting all of their orders correct on the first try,

When you came back you showed off your arm strength, each one holding up their plates high and setting them down with utmost caution before the three of them

Your colors were so bright, so eye-catching

How could Valentino not get you fired just so he could hire you as one of his own?

You were quite easy to catch, trapped up in his little web where you now worked for him

Once you did, he made sure you worked in the most populated bar he owned

You still had no idea just how much Valentino manipulated you, but you aren’t to blame for that

He babied you incredibly, broke you down with strung up hands and then built you back up just to make you trust him even more

He struck your deepest insecurities, manipulating you by taking random girls and boys and making you stand nearby as those cruel demons mocked you

And Valentino would then shoo them away, and baby you

You were never in any films as one of the main characters, (the ones who have sex)

But you were always teased as such, and were actually pasted across many posters of said films

You were photogenic, and Valentino took advantage of this

“‘Greetings sir, welcome to the….the…’ shit,” you sighed as you forgot your lines, bringing out your script from the folds of your wings to glance at it. “Sir I don’t think I’m gonna remember this.”

You looked to Valentino, shifting from where you stood, giving the werewolf actor above you a side glance. He drooled like a madman, some of it even dripping down onto your antenna, making you flinch back.

“You’re doing great, baby,” he called from his director's chair, right leg crossed over his left as he looked at you, pink smoke billowing around him as he gave a toothy smile. “Just improv it.”

You shifted, slightly unsure of just how good you’d be able to ‘improv’ your lines.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he insisted, standing up and slowly striding over to you, resting one of his hands on your shoulder as you followed him with your gaze. “No one’s watching the dialogue, right? They just want to see this.”

He ran one of his free hands down the shape of your wings, making you shudder lightly, antenna unfurling and twitching high up into the air.

“So just say whatever, okay?”

You nodded slowly, blushing hardly as he held your waist and shoulders with his much larger hands, leaning down and pecking a gentle kiss on your cheek before returning to his chair.

“And….action,”

Angel Dust

Out of the three, he probably took the longest to trust you

Not only did you work for Valentino, but you also happened to be the same species of demon

You were an atlas moth, with colors reminiscent of cinnamon

And you were a camera man/woman

So you and Angel often were in the same room during shoots

He didn’t resent you- it just took him a while to convince him that you weren’t gonna hurt him

In-between takes you would skitter forward and quickly fix up his hair and makeup,

Unlike a lot of the other workers, your touch was gentle and caring, gently running your clawed hands through his hair, and dabbing a brush across his cheekbones to fix up the color

Slowly but surely, you began to hang out outside of work

One time- you spotted him in a bar with Cherri (who wasn’t the fondest of you)

You came over, offering to buy drinks

At first, Angel was very cautious, watching how you handled their drinks,

Cherri carried this too

Then- that one dreadful night, where Valentino was in the same bar

Angel had rushed forward to protect Niffty, where the moth Overlord looked down at Angel with a sickly sadism

But before Valentino could continue his taunting- and getting Angel to snap- you spoke up from the crowd

“Valentino,” you began, catching your boss’ attention. “Leave him alone, he’s off the clock so just drop it

For a long moment, Angel looked at you like you were fucking insane- but you stood your ground

And after a long moment, Valentino sighed- grumbling to himself before finally backing off.

Angel paused for a long moment, before you came over to Angel, taking one of his free hands and helping him to his feet.

“Are you okay?”you asked, voice soft and sweet as you looked to him in concern

Angel took a moment too long to respond, instead looking at you in a mixture of confusion and adoration

“I…I…”

“Val’s such an asshole, come on, let’s get back to your friends,” you offered, holding out a hand to him, and yet you didn’t take it by force.

You were lucky Angel didn’t completely malfunction that day

After that one moment, you became Angel’s one and only work friend

He loved Husk, Cherri, and Charlie- but you were different

You knew what it was like

After you two started hanging out more, he began to notice the little things about you

How you would chirp or squeak whenever he ran his hands along the bridge or base of your wings- apparently it felt good because it was hard to scratch and care for back there

Oh- and your antenna, you had special little brushes for them, and Angel loved them to bits- touching them, brushing, petting- all of the above

You were his work friend- his only one

“Ugh-” Angel groaned as he stumbled into your room, plopping down onto your fluffy and thick blankets, rubbing some of his makeup onto your pillows as you followed him inside.

“Just relax Angie,” you eased, crawling onto the bed beside him, fours hands planted on either side as you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his back. “He’s not here.”

Angel whined in reply, to which you picked up Angel by the waist, sitting him upright before using your low set of hands to gently massage the sore areas along his back and sides

Angel let out a low groan, easing into your touch to which you look to him in mild amusement.

“Thanks, dollface, really,” he managed to get out, smiling and reaching back to hold your face affectionately. “This feels amazing.”

“Just relax, Angie, and let go.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vees #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x reader #angel dust hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust #Moth reader

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yeonzzzn · 2 months

Note

I love your writing. I have a request that is based on something I read from another writer about another group. So if you don't feel comfortable writing it, I totally understand. I am just interested to know what you think of the scenario in which y/n is the 8 member of ENHA and she bets the Hyung line that she can guess who they are just by the way they have sex with her while she's blindfolded.

Alternatively, how about a scenario in which the Hyung line each take y/n on a separate date but they have a bet amongst themselves that they won't be the first to fuck y/n. But they're all down bad for y/n and the struggle is real. They all want each other to fold so they can have you. Who do you think would win the bet?

MUCH LOVE AND PRAISE. 🥰

god I LOVE the one of yn guessing which hyung member based on how they have sex with her while blindfolded.

I just KNOW the moment you even bet the hyung line you could guess who was who by the way they fuck would be driving each of them up a wall. The four of them would have to have a secret meeting together, discussing whether or not to even go through with this. mostly because you’re the 8th member of their group, you are so precious to them and so deserving and so so so kind to them and deal with their bullshit on the daily…but oh god how could they pass this up? the opportunity to fuck you? to ruin you one by one with their cocks while blindfolded? it was so hot to them. they would be stupid to turn it down.

once they decide to take you up on the offer, the boys will have to establish some rules, this was all an experiment after all.

the first rule being that the members can ONLY fuck you once. yes there can be multiple rounds after you guess who they are, but after the time is up they can’t do it again, not until each member has had their turn. each fuck has to be spaced out a couple days to keep you from being sore or completely fucked out.

the second rule is each member IS allowed to kiss you and touch you in anyway they want during sex, they just can’t speak, moan, groan, growl, hiss, whimper, nothing. not a sound until after you guess who they are if you are indeed, correct.

the third rule is none of the members can interrupt. no. matter. what. it could miss up the game on you guessing and show acts of jealousy, which no one wants.

the fourth rule is all four of them have to be in the know when it’s time to fuck you. none of them can randomly come up behind you and slap a blindfold over your eyes and rail you without the other men knowing. it’s cheating, mostly if you are in a situation that it’s obvious on which member it is. they also have to discus with you on when it’s a good time to even experiment, every party has to be in the know and okay.

the fifth rule being the other members couldn’t be present when the other gets to fuck. this is another way to keep interruption from happening or if the boys decide to pull their hard cocks from their pants while watching you get railed and jerk themselves off and accidentally making any noises.

the sixth rule is neither of the boys can touch you in anyway, shape or form after they’ve had sex with you. once their cocks have been inside you, you become off limits. it’s another way to make sure jealousy doesn’t happen and to keep the game fair for the other men waiting for their fuck.

the seventh and final rule is being no hard feelings in the end. because if you choose to have sex with one of them again(or even all four of them again) they each have to respect it. if you catch feelings along the way too for one of them, they have to respect it. but that is only a BIG IF on if the situation even takes that route. because you could literally just be looking to get railed by them and have some fun.

which honestly you are. the four of them are the sexiest men you’ve ever seen and you get to look at them everyday, why wouldn’t you want each of them to impale you with their cocks? plus you know each of them like the back of your hand, guessing who was who wouldn’t be a challenge.

you honestly would look forward to it each time. you knew the minute the four of them came up to you with those smirks on their faces that they agreed to the experiment and challenge, a blindfold already in one of their hands signaling that it starts right now.

each time they’ll have you put the blindfold on yourself. the boys will draw straws before hand on who gets to go first to make it fair and have it not be in any specific order.

you knew the minute his hands and lips were on yours that it was jake who drew the lucky straw first. the way his hands squeezed your waist and plump lips kissed you, it was obvious from the start. jake is a big tits guy and very big on doggy, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. The way he flips your naked body over to fuck you from behind with both his hands squeezing your breasts, biting his lips to keep from moaning out on how pleasurable your cunt was wrapped around him. “I know it’s you jakey,” you cooed, “lemme hear you,” god jake would be fucking losing his mind as he pounded into you faster, letting every moan he was holding back escape his lips as he snatches that blindfold off your eyes, placing his hand at the front of your neck to lift you up, his chest connecting to your back, making eye contact with you as he pumps his cock in and out of you, “fuck baby girl,” he growls in your ear, his tongue licking and biting at the lobe, “know me so well just by how I fuck into you, ya? with how I touch and kiss you. fuck yn” the gentleness jake once had with you was out the window as his hips snapped into place against your ass, the fingers that were wrapped around your neck now found their home inside your mouth, and his other fingers circling your clit until you came around him and he was spilling into you.

a few days will go by when the other three approach you, blindfold in hand to repeat the process. you blindfold yourself, they draw the straw and the other were sent out of the room. once again you knew who he was immediately just by the way he pins your arms above your head as his fingers interlock with yours, kissing you so tenderly with so much love. jay is such a lover boy, his hips slowly rocking against yours as he shoved his tongue down your mouth, hands squeezing yours tightly with each thrust into you. you pulled your hands from his grip, wrapping your legs around his waist and sliding your fingers into his hair, finding his ear with the darkness of the blindfold, “jay,” you whine, feeling his cock twitch inside you, “fuck me harder.” jay loved hearing his name fall from your lips the way it did, knowing just by how you called to him and how your body reacts that he was making you feel so fucking good. “shit baby,” he chuckles in your ear, sliding his lips down to your neck and back up to your ear, “your wish is my command.” he pumped himself harder into you, staying at his slow pace. his hands gripped the bedsheets when he felt your legs tightening around him and the clench of your cunt. as much as jay loved making love to you like this, he wanted to make a mess of you, mostly after you guessed right on who he was? it was so fucking hot at how well you knew him sexually even when neither of you have ever acted or spoken in any sexual way together. jay didn’t hesitate to slide his arms underneath you so he would grip onto your shoulders as he fucked into you faster and harder than before, using his teeth to pull the blindfold off from your face so you could stare back at him as you came undone on his cock, watching him as he clenched his jaw and groaned out strings of “fuck” as he shot his seed inside you.

another few days press on by, the remaining two stood before you handing out the blindfold. repeat. repeat. repeat. with the way you were pressed against the door of your room, legs spread wide by his knees, the hand he had at the back of your neck as he pressed the side of your face into the wood of the door and fucked into you at a primal rate you knew as sunghoon. he was rough as he railed you against the door, shit he was rough since the beginning. with how he pulled you from your bed and slammed you to the door and how his hands roamed, it was no doubt sunghoon. he had you moaning his name after the first few hard thrusts into you. his chest touching your back and flinging the blindfold off, “no need for this anymore,” he groaned. sunghoon knew you would guess him quickly, needing to rid that blindfold quickly so he can see the full expressions of your face as he ruined you, “come on baby, keep screaming my name. tell me how good I am giving it to you. let them know how fucking good hoonie is giving it to you.” sunghoon knew the other men were listening, he planned on it too. with the way he was fucking you against the door and how it slammed against the frame, how could they not be listening? sunghoon made it his mission to have you screaming he know within seconds of sliding himself inside you. he’d heard the moans that came from your mouth when jake and jay fucked you, he sure as hell wanted them to hear how loud your voice was getting just by his cock. somewhere along the way it became a competition to see who could get you moaning the loudest and honestly, you were here for it. “hoonie,” you screamed, feeling the drool leave your lips and slide down the door. “fuck yn, being so good for me, taking me so well.” it didn’t take much longer until you released on his cock and his movements getting sloppily until his final thrust had him unloading into you.

the last final days passed on, heeseung appeared into your bedroom and closing the door behind him. there honestly wasn’t any need for the blindfold anymore, heeseung was the last to get his dick wet and either way you’d know it was him. after each fuck the boys gathered to discuss what happened, they knew they would lose against you. you guess each of them perfectly one by one, which is where the contest of seeing who could get you to moan the loudest came into play. even though heeseung was last, it was still only fair he gets his turn. he sat on the edge of your bed, pulling you into his lap and was immediately hard at the sight of the way you straddled him. he placed his hand against the side of your neck, bringing you in to connect his lips to yours, “I’m going to take my time with you,” he whispered in between kisses, loving the way you moaned into his mouth at those words. he rid you and him of your clothes slowly one by one until the two of you were skin against skin, getting turned on just by feeling your flesh against his. heeseung moaned out your name softly as you slid down onto him, his fingers digging into your hips. heeseung didn’t care one bit that he was the last to fuck you. didn’t care about the stupid competition of who could get your vocals the loudest. didn’t care that the rules had to be bent in his favor. because honestly, heeseung was the real winner here. he still got to fuck you, got to fuck you properly at that. he didn’t have to keep his moans down or suppress them until you took a guess. he was able to be as vocal as he wanted from the moment he walked into your room. he got to make eye contact with you the entire time as he felt you up, as you rode his dick and squeezed his shoulders for support. heeseung just knew the other losers were losing their fucking shit as they stood at the other side of the door. heeseung didn’t need to get you screaming at the top of your lungs for the others to know you were fucking his cock into oblivion. “seungie,” you moaned and flung your head back, legs getting weak and shakey, “what it is my love?” he cooed, knowing damn well what it was you wanted, “wanna cum? hmm? want to come undone around seungie’s cock?” you nodded, whimpering out a “please hee,” and that’s all it took. heeseung sat up straighter, wrapping both arms around your body, using every last bit of strength in his hips and legs to fuck up into you. you slid your fingers into his hair, resting the side of your head against his, screaming his name as he hit into your g-spot. oh fuck heeseung was losing himself inside you, his head going dizzy from the pleasure. you no doubt were screaming and moaning louder than the other three got you. you were so loud heeseung was afraid he might lose his hearing in that ear, oh but fuck it would be so worth it. because again, heeseung was the real winner here. was the real winner as he made you come undone on his cock, your cum dripping out of you and sliding down his thighs. the real winner as he moaned out your name when his seed painted your gummy walls white.

jealousy was unavoidable, unfortunately. each of the four boys getting caught up in their feelings for you and how fucking good your pussy felt wrapped around them. but alas, you proved you knew each and every single one of them by how they fuck, only feeding into their egos when you tell you you undoubtably wanted them to fuck you again and again and again and again. each of the four of them brought something to the table when it came to pleasuring you, how could you deny that pleasure? mostly when you have four sexy men drooling over you and your sex. it was well worth it to challenge them.

#yeonzzzn asks #enhypen #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #heeseung #lee heeseung #jay #jay park #park jay #park jongseong #jake #sim jake #jake sim #sim jaeyun #sunghoon #park sunghoon #yeonzzzn writing

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thef1diary · 2 months

Text

Little Big Fan | Five

- Little Big Surprise

Series Masterlist

wc: 3.3k

The house felt too empty, too quiet.

Isabella has been at her father's house for the past week and you missed her dearly. So, you had to find new hobbies to pass the time. You should've been used to the days she isn't home but you still aren't.

A new addition to your routine was your newfound hobby; watching Formula One races, or more so, watching Max race.

You would've been a fan even if you didn't know him personally, purely based on his driver skills, but that little detail made every moment of the race a tad bit more special. Your eyes would always try to find him on the track with the others, which he was in front of, leading.

You even found out that you could watch an on-board camera for a specific driver while watching the main race screen as well. It was very obvious whose camera feed you chose to watch.

This was the first time you watched the race after coming back from The Netherlands, mainly because it's only been a week since.

Though it wasn't fun watching the race without Isabella, or more like without her own added commentary.

Fortunately, Isabella's father would be dropping her off today. Until then, you had to find a way to pass the time.

Picking up your phone, your finger hovered over Max's contact. The last time you spoke was yesterday, when you congratulated him for the win over text.

You caught up on your pending work, meeting clients, writing up contracts, and even began designing the floor plans. One of the perks of working as a freelance interior designer, was that you could complete it at your own pace. The downside, however, was once you were done, you didn't really have anything else to do.

You worked for a few hours today, so your little break where you contemplated to call Max was well earned.

But before you could decide whether or not you wanted to call him, your phone rang with a call from him.

You quickly answered, greeting him with, "I was just about to call you, but I thought it'd be too late for you." You remembered that even though it was daytime for you, it was nighttime for him.

Max hummed, "too late? Oh wait, you're right, it's well past midnight." You furrowed your brow as his response confused you, but you didn't comment on it.

"So, what's up?" You asked, wanting to know why he called.

"You actually left something when you came to the race, and I kept forgetting to mention it, but I was thinking of sending it back to you as a package," Max explained, and you began to wonder what you had left behind.

"Yeah, sure that's fine, I actually have no idea when I'm going to see you again either." You shut your eyes tightly as you regretted the words as soon as you spoke them. "I mean—" you tried to explain but he cut you off, "I know what you mean and you're not wrong,"

You told him your address for the package, still wondering what you left behind, but dismissed the thought once you heard some noises on the other end. Specifically, noises that would indicate a person is outside, such as traffic.

"Max, are you outside?" You asked, wondering what he'd be doing out at this hour. "What no! Hold on, can I call you back in a bit?" He didn't wait for your response, just hung up the call.

You held your phone in front of you, looking at the dark screen as if it would give you any answers, but as excepted, it didn't. Then, you dropped the thought or at least tried to since Max did say he'll call you back.

You made yourself an iced coffee before falling into the depths of online shopping. Before you could decide on buying anything, the doorbell interrupted you.

"Max" you gasped as you opened the door, seeing him standing on the other side, holding a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. "Hi," he grinned, eyes taking in your presence since it had been too long since he last saw you.

"You lied about the package," you commented though there wasn't any malice behind your words. "Consider me as the thing you forgot?"

You chuckled at his words but it quickly became quiet as you finally realized that he was truly standing in front of you. "Please tell me you have a work thing here and you're just stopping by because you were in the area?"

"I could tell you that, but it would be a lie," he shrugged. You hesitated before asking the next question, "and the truth is?"

"I just wanted to see you and Isabella again." Either he didn't realize the weight behind his words or he chose to ignore it but you stood there, holding the door, in surprise.

"And now I'm realizing it probably wasn't a good idea to drop by without asking you," Max's words lacked confidence but you quickly shook your head. "No, it's just that you keep surprising me by standing on the other side of the door," then you smiled and added, "this time it happens to be in a different country."

Again, he shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, but if he was able to hear the thoughts running through your mind, he'd know that this was a big deal to you. In the best way possible.

"So, can I come in?" He asked, as he was just idly standing by the door. "Oh yes, sorry."

He passed the flowers to you once he was inside. "I didn't know which flowers you like, but this seemed fitting," he explained the reason behind the sunflowers.

You wanted to ask why, but you held back because in the few weeks you've known Max, he always manages to say something that leaves you speechless.

"It's perfect, thank you. I think I have a vase lying around somewhere." You found one in the back of a cabinet next to your kitchen, and started filling it with water.

Max stood across from you and commented, "that vase should never be left empty."

You chuckled, more at the thought of the vase being full than his words. "It has been empty more often than not."

Although it was just a simple back and forth conversation, Max made a mental note to try and never let it be empty for as long as he knows you. Which he hopes would be a long, long time.

Max looked around the house, noticing a lack of a little ball of energy. "Where's Isabella?"

"At Tyler's. He'll drop her off in about an hour." Once you set up the flowers, you paused, realizing you have to make lunch for Isabella but you didn't want Max to think that you didn't want him here.

"Everything okay?" He asked, always noticing everything. "Yeah, I have to make lunch for Isabella." You didn't know what reaction you expected but it definitely wasn't a laugh.

Max stepped closer to you, rounding the kitchen island that was in between you two. "If you think you have to entertain me as a guest, who by the way showed up unexpectedly, I'm going to think you don't consider me a friend."

You broke out into a smile, realizing that you overthought the small situation. "I do consider you a friend, otherwise I wouldn't have ranted on and on about my job."

"I will say though, if you're making lunch, I want some too," Max added with a sheepish smile. "Isabella's lunch entails a homemade pizza and fries—made with freshly cut potatoes—because that's all she wants to eat every time she comes home."

"Fair enough, let's make extras for all of us," Max began rolling up his sleeves and washed his hands in preparation.

You couldn't help but laugh, "Max, what are you doing?" He looked at you as if his actions were obvious, "I'm going to help you. Did you think I was going to let you make lunch all by yourself?"

There he goes, leaving you speechless. You shut your mouth because you couldn't find a response, and began taking out the ingredients. "Just a warning though, you're gonna have to tell me what to do because I'm not the best chef," Max stated.

"It's okay, you can be my assistant," you responded which made him raise his eyebrows, "assistant huh? I like the sound of that."

You paused, looking at him with a playful glower before both of you broke out into laughter.

You passed him the potatoes after rinsing them, tasking him to peel and cut into strips to make french fries.

Although he didn't notice, you might've stopped a few times while kneading the dough to look at him. Unbeknownst to you, he did the same when you weren't looking either.

"So does Isabella go to her dad's often?" Max asked after a moment of silence. "Sometimes it's every other week, other times it's only a weekend per month," you explained.

Max had loads of questions about Tyler, but he was content in knowing only what you were willing to tell him. This time, you didn't continue the conversation about your ex, and Max understood that you didn't want to talk about it.

The topic was forgotten as soon as you accidentally smeared pizza sauce across your face. You truly had no idea how it got there, but only realized when Max brushed his fingers against your cheek to wipe it away.

However, he only smeared it further. He couldn't control his laughter as it spread and that prompted you to wipe it from your cheek and smear it on his.

He glared at you but it only lasted a millisecond as he grabbed a handful of dry flour. "Max," you warned, stepping backwards in an attempt to get away from him.

You didn't get far as his arm found its away around your waist to pull you back and hold you still. Then, he dumped the flour on your face, adding to the remnants of the sauce.

Your hands pressed against his chest to push him away but it was a useless attempt since he had you cornered against the counter so you had nowhere to go.

You spluttered since a bit of the flour got in your mouth and Max laughed at you. Then, you did the only thing you could think of. Grabbing Max's face, you rubbed your cheek dusted with flour and sauce against his. Now it was even.

Once the laughter died down, both of you noticed how close you were standing. Max couldn't back away because of your palms on his cheek and on the nape of his neck.

Your eyes widened slightly at the realization and you quickly dropped your hands so he could move. Max took a second too long to process that you weren't holding him anymore, before he created more space between you two.

Then, you noticed the time, "shit she'll be here in twenty minutes."

"You should go change, I'll take care of the rest," Max suggested and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "you're going to take care of it?"

He nodded like it wasn't a big deal. "You're the one who said you're not a good chef," you spoke with a teasing smile.

"I said I'm not the best chef, I can be a good chef," he reasoned and you couldn't argue with that logic. "Fine, as long as you don't burn my house down."

"I'll try," you heard him as you went upstairs to your room.

"He got me flowers," you muttered to yourself as you picked out a clean outfit. "He fucking got me flowers." The realization hit you hard, more so because you loved sunflowers, and he just happened to randomly guess the right bouquet. Which was something your ex could never do right even after you told him, mainly because he preferred roses and only bought you roses.

"It seemed fitting," you repeated his words, "Max, why do you have to be so nice?" You asked rhetorically as of course he wasn't there to answer.

You hurriedly went downstairs after washing up and changing to see whether Max had done anything wrong. Perhaps if he was a lousy chef, you'd have one complaint about him. So far, you have liked everything about him.

Fortunately, nothing smelt burnt, and nothing was broken. When you spotted him, he was frying the French fries.

You paused in your tracks, and took a good look at him so you could remember this moment later. Max looked very comfortable in your kitchen, in your house, as if it wasn't his first time. You hoped it wouldn't be the last.

"Looks like everything's fine here," you commented and he turned to look at you with a smile, "no burnt houses," he shrugged.

"The pizza still has a few minutes to go, and the fries are all done," he spoke as he gestured with his hands, but when he looked at you again, you had a stupid smile on your face.

"What?" That made your smile widen, "nothing, just, thank you for helping me."

"Always," he responded, already planning that he'll be around as long as you wanted him to be.

The doorbell rang, interrupting your peace but you were beyond excited to open the door and greet your daughter. Isabella definitely got the habit of being overly excited from you.

However, when you opened the door you saw Isabella standing beside Tyler with a frown on her face. "Hi angel, did you have fun?" You crouched down and ruffled her hair.

"Can I go inside, mama?" Her timid voice surprised you as she would usually answer that question happily. "Sure, sweetheart, I'll be there in a minute."

You watched her head inside before you stood up, closing the door behind you so Isabella wouldn't hear your conversation and faced your ex, "what happened?"

He scoffed, "nothing happened, I just told her that I won't be able to see her again as planned because I'm flying out of the country."

"Another business trip?" You asked and he nodded. "She usually doesn't get this upset any other time you cancel, did something else happen?"

"You know how she is, overdramatic," Tyler casually shrugged and that word ticked you off. "Don't you dare call my daughter overdramatic," you pointed at him harshly.

"Oh so now she's your daughter? Isabella gets upset easily, you know this."

"I do not want to hear you say that word again to describe her, I've heard it enough from you when we were together. Now tell me what happened."

Tyler sighed, and for a moment he thought about saying that Isabella was just like her mother, like you, but he didn't want to waste any extra time being around you.

"I introduced her to Emma," he stated as if it would explain everything but you furrowed your brows in confusion. "Who?"

"My girlfriend. Isabella noticed her around the house a few times so I thought it would be a good idea to introduce her," he explained and you were about to interrupt but he kept going. "I don't know if Isabella doesn't like her, but she's been in that mood ever since."

"Tyler, she has only seen us together, so of course if you introduce her to someone else, it'll take time for her to get used to it," you decided to explain in a calm manner.

"You don't have an issue with my girlfriend?" He asked and you raised your brows, "why would I? It's not my business unless it involves Isabella."

He shrugged, then laughed at his thought before saying it out loud, "well I hope that you don't have an issue explaining dating to her, that is, if you ever start dating again."

"My dating life is none of your business. Don't you have somewhere to be? Perhaps back to Emma?"

"Alright, I'll text you when I'm back in the country," he stated and turned around to leave but paused as he saw a new car in the driveway that he knew didn't belong to you.

"Whose car is that?" You laughed at his need to always be all up in your business, "goodbye, Tyler."

You entered the house with a sigh but the sight in front of you warmed your heart, making you forget all about the conversation with your ex.

Max was crouched down onto his knees to be at eye level with Isabella, who had two arms wrapped around his neck in a tight hug.

When Max heard the door close, he opened his eyes and saw you. He removed one hand that was resting on Isabella's back and gestured for you to come closer.

Understanding his silent gesture, you crouched down right behind your daughter and wrapped her in a hug as well, so she was sandwiched between you and Max.

You placed loads of kisses on her cheeks until she started giggling. Isabella let go of Max and turned to face you, "mama, you didn't tell me that Maxy was here!" Just like that, her mood was drastically different from when she first arrived at the doorstep.

"He surprised me too, angel," you spoke as your gaze shifted to Max.

"Did you watch him race yesterday?" You asked Isabella, but her mood dropped again. "No mama, daddy was busy."

"It's okay, you can watch the next one with your mama," Max spoke, and Isabella nodded in agreement. "Okay!"

Then Max gasped, "the pizza!" He quickly rushed towards the oven to check on it, making you and Isabella laugh.

"Maxy made pizza?" She asked as she sat up on one of the barstools, which also happens to be her favourite place to eat even if you have a dining table.

"Maxy and mama made pizza," Max corrected, as he watched you cut it into slices.

"Are you ready for school?" Max asked once all of you began eating. You and Max also sat up on the barstools beside Isabella.

"No." She simply stated. Max frowned, "why not?"

"It's a big school, it's scary." Her words made you frown, "but you're a big girl too now."

"How about we go shopping tomorrow? Buy a new bag, more school supplies, and anything you want," Max suggested and this time you didn't stop him.

You already had a plan to take her shopping tomorrow, mainly because you already knew that Tyler didn't or else she would’ve been beaming about it.

"Even the glittery clips?" Isabella asks with a bright smile on her face, making Max chuckle, "yes even the glittery clips"

"Oh what about ice cream?" Isabella asked, and this time you watched Max become the victim of her pout and big round eyes. He looked at you for help, but you pressed your lips together, holding back a laugh.

"Yes, we can get ice cream too," he gave in making Isabella cheer.

"Alright, angel, finish your food." You gestured to her plate and she quickly obliged, stuffing her face with pizza and fries.

You were glad that Max was here, able to instantly uplift Isabella's mood. However you couldn't help but think about Tyler's words.

You never thought about dating again ever since you broke up with your ex, especially since Isabella was a baby and almost always with you.

But now that she was older, beginning to understand relationships, you thought about her reaction if you ever introduced her to someone you wanted to date.

Plus, you never met anyone that would make you debate the decision of whether to start dating again or not, that was until you met Max.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @glitterf1 @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @hockeyboysarehot @formulaal @namgification @tallrock35 @bloodyymaryyy

#little big fan fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #thef1diary fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #fluff #f1 fluff

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ddarker-dreams · 6 months

Note

Can you please rate the current husband rotation (scara,blade and chrollo) based on highest sex drive to lowest?

Btw i love your work your amazingggg <333333

thank you very much!!!!!!!! i'll throw gojo in there for good measure. whether anyone wants him, that's up for debate, but he's slapped into the mix now.

warning for not SFW beneath the cut, obviously, and afab reader. dubcon if you squint.

alright, so, this'll be ranked from 10 as the highest and 1 as the lowest.

scaramouche — 9.

it's bad. it's real bad. you weren't expecting it either. from what little scaramouche has allowed you to know about himself, you considered him the type to look down at sex as debased and pointless. this assessment of yours would've been accurate had you not been in the picture. sadly, you are very much in the picture, and it's a picture he'd stare at until his eyes ceased functioning.

he is clingy, he is needy, he is relentless. it's embarrassing and he'll never admit it, but he views sex as the ultimate connection lovers can experience. two becoming one. he places far more sentimentality on it than you'll ever be privy to. or so he'd like to think, because the tears he sheds into your neck as he enters you for the first time give him away. he'll hold you in an uncomfortably tight grip, almost in a trance. he's inside you, the closest anyone can physically get. sure, there's pleasure to be found, but that isn't the main allure. he can move forward and you'll gasp. pull back and feel how you squeeze him, as if you couldn't bear to let him go, not even for a second.

deep down, does he know this is an involuntary muscle spasm and not some long-awaited reciprocation of his awful love? yes, he knows. he ignores that rational explanation, as he so often does when you're involved. from the second his tip began pushing in, he knew he'd become addicted. for you to encourage him, declare your undying love between moans and gasps, reassure him that he's all you can ever think about.

he'd deliver the seven nations to your feet if it meant experiencing that.

if anyone were to interrupt his time with you, even if it's a report that the sky itself is cracking open, he'd kill them for the infraction.

basically, every second that passes without him being inside you further sours his mood. his underlings dread long missions away for this very reason. one of them made the mistake of consoling his lord that it's just a few more days until he can see you again. scaramouche ordered that his tongue be cut out for daring to speak your name. he's the only one who deserves the privilege. anyone else is entirely unworthy of the right.

when he comes back, you won't be leaving the bedroom for hours. he cannot detach himself from you. he's insatiable, utterly insatiable.

gojo — 8.

satoru thinks you're hot. like really hot. call-to-wake-you-up-at-four-in-the-morning-for-phone-sex hot. he cannot behave and he doesn't want to. if he's driving you somewhere, his hand is on your thigh. when you're taking an important phone call, his fingers will rub circles into your clit through your panties, no matter how desperately you try and shoo him off. the type to send you those memes that if he died in between your thighs, it'd be a happy death. he loves your body, how his name sounds when you sigh it, the scent of sweat on your skin, the taste of your favorite cocktail on your lips.

for as long as he can remember, he's never been the type to resist doing what he wants. he'll be late to meetings with the higher-ups because you fell asleep in his arms and he refused to wake you up. he'll tell a special grade curse he's fighting to wait a second because you sent him a cute text he wants to reread. should he notice someone checking you out, he'll appear beside them, praising their excellent taste. throw in a comment that they can have your phone number if they just approach you. then, every time they try, he'll warp them back a little further at a time.

this isn't to say no one is allowed to admire you, though. that wouldn't be fair. he likens it to if leonardo da vinci kept the mona lisa hidden in some dark, dusty corner. others can appreciate your beauty, so long as it's on his terms. poor nanami gets texted to pick between what dresses he should buy you, with the unnecessary addendum that 'it'll get ripped off at a later time wwww.' the very first time nanami heard gojo speak your name, he knew the strongest sorcerer was going to become infinitely more grating.

satoru just finds every second he spends with you worthwhile. whether it be the two of you lazing around in pajamas and watching a b-movie, or if you've been teasing him relentlessly all day, earning you a sleepless night. you're like air to him. there's something about being around you that has him hooked. which is why he never wants to put out that lovely flame burning within you. no, he stokes it, savors the burn that only you can leave on his skin. if you're his world, he has to be yours.

chrollo — 6.

you can call this man all sorts of negative labels and each one will apply. immoral? depraved? a murderer? all are perfectly true, he won't claim otherwise. from all the potential insults to sling his way, however, impatient can't be found among them. he's anything but that. his patience is impeccable. otherworldly, at times. he will sit there with a soft smile as you get upset in any manner you wish. he doesn't rush you or interrupt, you're allowed to get it out of your system. it's then that you realize the threat you're dealing with can't be properly understood.

from the list of real winners here, chrollo is the closest to being 'classy.' he holds doors open for you. takes your jacket off when you walk inside. pulls your chair out on dates. for anyone else, these acts would be hollow performances, but for you? oh, he adores every second. he wants to make your heart flutter. feel how your breath hitches as he clasps a necklace around your neck, the chain cold against your clammy skin. observe how your pupils dilate when he rolls his sleeves up to help cook, revealing toned arms.

he takes his time with you. would he love to bend you over and rail you against the nearest surface? absolutely. what he absolutely loves, though, is foreplay. testing how long an indulgent man such as himself can deny his base urges. chrollo wants to see the exact moment you realize that despite everything, you want him. you want him bad enough to discard your pride and accept the affections of someone you once called the devil. the thought alone makes him shudder with anticipation. it's how he maintains control when your skirt rides up or when you brush against him in your sleep.

eye contact is a must when you abandon your inhibitions and let him bed you. the expressions you make when his fingers curl against your walls, as he sinks into you for the first time, when you clench and come undone around him; everything is a delight that gives him such a rush. then there's your visage after you're done. how you wince when he pulls out, his cum seeping down your legs. it's like he can hear each neuron of yours firing away to form a rationalization for why you just let him fuck you.

he's patient, but that just means when he does get what he wants, he'll be starved for everything you can give.

blade — ???

blade either wants to go at it like rabbits or has the self-restraint of an ascetic who committed themselves to celibacy for life. there is no in-between.

his mara suggests that he break your legs and fuck you until eternity itself comes to an end. he possesses enough lucidity to realize he shouldn't do that, regardless of the tiny part of himself that coos over the idea. due to the extreme fantasies that'd cause you irreparable harm should he ever carry them out, blade shoves down his desire that's become intertwined with his mara. this works for a time. sure, you might be unnerved by how he's always staring at you, but at least the integrity of your legs is ensured. how romantic.

because truthfully, no matter how curt his words are or sharp his glare is when you test his patience, he likes you. it's such a childish sentiment that it makes him want to groan with embarrassment. he tried suffocating the budding attachment, going as far away from you as he could, only to come crawling back each time. what if you fell in love? what if you opened your legs for someone else? these fears grow to such a degree that it influences his swordplay. he may or may not have allowed his opponent to skewer his heart, to see if that'd get the traitorous organ to stop pounding away at the thought of you.

this cycle of denying himself of you -> returning with an intensified obsession carries over to his sex drive. even blade doesn't know what will tip him over. it could be you saying his name in a particularly cute voice, how you bite your lip while thinking about something, or just him getting a whiff of your shampoo as he walks by. the next thing he knows, he's throwing you over his shoulder and taking you to the closest bed. or couch. even a countertop will do. the abundance's curse on his body extends to his refractory period as well. he gets hard again almost immediately after he cums. especially because you'll be underneath him, out of breath, looking like you're meant to be ravished.

he'll do all the work, you don't have to move a muscle if you're too exhausted. he gives you his release in every way possible. inside you, on your chest, face, mouth, and inside your stomach from all the times you've swallowed his spend.

#yandere gojo x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere blade x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #concepts #not sfw #dubcon #answered #Anonymous

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outsideratheart · 3 months

Text

Time Has No Concept (Ingrid Engen x reader)

It may not have officially been winter but that didn’t stop the -5 degrees feel any warmer. You always said you liked the cold weather or at least you weren’t bothered by it. Today was a true test of that.

Walking out for the pitch inspection you only have one thing on your mind or more specifically one person.

“It hasn’t even been a week” Keira tries to tease you but fails because you don’t bite.

“I don’t care. I spend every day with her in Barcelona so when we’re apart a day is like a week.”

It was true. It didn’t take much for you to miss Ingrid. You moved to Barcelona after the euros and quickly became friends with Ingrid. It stayed like that way until you won the Champions league. It was a night to be remember for more reason than one.

Lucy and Keira agreed to go with you to Ingrid as she was with Caro and Ada.

“Tell me why you, a Norwegian native, are wearing more layers than me?”

“Because I’m not a human heater” Ingrid opens your arms and makes herself comfy.

“Hello my love” you look down at her, fully disregarding the company around you.

“Are you nervous?” Ingrid asks as she sees a crack in your confident persona.

On game days you were serious, locked in and there was little anybody could do to steer you from this mindset. Ingrid however had the unexplainable ability to see through it and as she stands on the pitch in your arms she sees her girlfriend, not the England captain.

“About the game, of course not” you wink playfully “about what comes after, a little bit. I just want to make a good impression”

“Pull back your shots and maybe you will”

Ingrid knew you would never do as she asked so isn’t surprised when she gets a scoff as her reply. The two of you stay together in each others arms for a few more minutes as you involve yourselves in the conversation between Lucy and Ada.

It was very well known that you hated wearing base layers but it was advised to put one on gor the game given that it might snow was forecast. That didn’t stop you from removing the thermal layer within the first ten minutes when you saw their goalkeeper go down. At half time most of them put a second base layer on and an extra pair of gloves whereas you opted for a cup of tea instead.

The post match team huddle was one of the quickest in team history and the lap around the pitch that followed matched it. Only one or two England players remained on the pitch to thank the fans, you were one of them. Once the last photo was taken your attention shifted to a different kind of fan.

There she stood talking animatedly with two people who you recognised from the time Ingrid FaceTimed home whilst staying at your apartment.

“Y/N!” The younger boy, Ingrid’s nephew you think, shouts.

“Look at you” Ingrid cannot believe you are standing next to her in the now -8 degrees, maybe even colder, in only shorts and a shirt. No base layers, no gloves, no coat “You’re going to get a cold”

“You forget that I don’t get sick, it’s my superpower. Besides, I’ll have you to keep me warm” you are millimetres away from kissing her when you are interrupted.

“Y/N, please can I have your shirt?”

“No”

“Yes”

Much to Ingrid’s dismay you give her nephew your shirt. He takes his coat off and quickly puts your shirt on over Ingrid’s. The smile on his face rivals the Cheshire cat’s and you whisper in your girlfriend’s ear that the look on his face makes it worth it.

Ingrid holds her jacket open and pulls you close as you chat away to her brother about the game, happy with the fact that the two of you get along well and that you will have a familiar face when you meet everybody else a little bit later. It is only when she feels you shivering against her does she politely end the conversation so that you can go inside the stadium.

“Shower, please. No ice baths. We can go on a recovery walk tomorrow” your girlfriend knew your post match routine well at this point but prayed that tonight you would stray without any arguments.

“Yes ma’am” you salute her before doing as your told.

Almost two hours later you were pulling up to Ingrid’s parents house. Ingrid seemed confident that her family would like you. The way she grabbed your hand and led you into her childhood home did ease the nerves building inside you.

Luckily for you, Ingrid’s nephew is the first to see you and pulls you over to show you his Legos. You can’t believe that you are using a child as a shield against her family.

The protection doesn’t last long because your girlfriend soon calls you over to her parents. You had practiced this speech plenty of times in the mirror.

Mr and Mrs Engen, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.

Yet when you get within a meters distance of them you freeze. These are two of the most important people in your girlfriend’s life and making a good impression on them is a must.

They stare at you for what feels like an eternity and you can also feel Ingrid’s eyes on you too. Another thing you notice in the corner of your eye is the smirk that is tugging at her lips.

“You were right. In person she isn’t anything like she is on the pitch” her father says.

Still you are frozen. Do you slip the player switch on and play the confidence card? No, that might be too much and they’d know it’s an act.

“Hyggelig å møte deg” you hold your hand out for both her father and her mother.

Their eyes widen and you don’t know if it’s in shock or horror. Your girlfriend’s silence didn’t help either.

“I said nice to meet you, right?”

Ingrid leans in and kisses your check.

“Elskling, it was perfect” Ingrid compliments you.

“She is right. The pronunciation was very good”

“Ingrid didn’t say you knew Norwegian” her father adds.

“Our team mate Caroline has been teaching me after training”

Ingrid knew you had been having lessons with Caro, you had told her that much. She just assumed it was Spanish because of how quickly you picked up the native language of your new club. Never in a million years did she think you’d be learning her language.

The four of you talk for a little while. You get to know Ingrid’s parents and they ask all sorts of questions. They are mainly football and life in Barcelona related. You don’t get the hurt my daughter and I’ll kill you speech but you suspect they are waiting until you’re alone for that.

After the introductions you retake your place on the floor with Ingrid’s nephew. His company you found a lot less intimidating. Her parent’s are sat on the sofa behind you watching the tv with some of Ingrid’s other relatives but you aren’t bothered by their presence.

“Y/N” Ingrid shouts from the kitchen where she is helping her brother with the food.

“Yes, my love” you reply.

Ingrid’s parents share a look that you don’t see. Was the nickname you had given their daughter part of your English charm or were you really in love with her.

“So you love our daughter?” Ingrid’s father asks rather boldly.

“Pappa!” Ingrid comes to your rescue just in time.

The three important words had not been said but the feeling was there.

“I do” when you stand to your feet you feel betrayed by your body and mouth.

“You do?” Ingrid face is the picture of shocked.

“I do” you whisper softly “I think I’ve know for a while. Everything was made clear in the summer. I was heartbroken but you took me in your arms and held me until I was whole again”

There it was. The admission that you, for some unknown reason, had been scared to make.

Ingrid didn’t care that her family was surrounding her. She kissed you with the same passion as the kisses you share at home. It may not be an intense kiss but it is enough to convey her feelings.

“I love you, I really do”

What comes over you, you have no idea but you lean back in for another kiss, a peck. The public display of affection does earn a fake gagging sound by her brother before he announces dinner is ready and served. You do have to hold back a laugh when he goes the extra lengths to let everyone know he did it without his sister’s help.

Later that night you get another hot shower to warm you up. Maybe your girlfriend was right about you getting sick.

The two of you lay in Ingrid’s teenage room.

“Did you really mean what you said earlier?” Your girlfriend asks you.

“What did I say earlier?”

Hearing this Ingrid sits up and slaps you on the chest. The impact send you into a coughing fit.

“Don’t play with me. Also, you’re getting sick. Take these”

You are handed two tablets which you take happily despite your stubbornness.

“I meant it but I thought it was too soon and I didn’t want to scare you away. How was I suppose to tell you I love you after only being dating for a month, in fact we weren’t even dating, not officially”

“You knew after a month?”

“You think it’s too much. You see, this is why I didn’t want to tell you”

Your brain went into overdrive as you began overthinking your decision.

“It’s not too much Y/N. I met you a year ago yet I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer. I would shock myself at how easy I would open up to you. When it comes to you it’s like time has no concept”

Nobody has ever spoken about you in that way. You were never anyone’s person until you met Ingrid.

“Jeg elsker deg” Ingrid pecks you on the lips “Jeg elsker deg”

When you fall asleep that night you do so with a huge smile on your face and a sense of calmness that you very rarely feel.

The next morning Ingrid wakes up to the sound of you coughing, or more accurately barking, in the bathroom.

“I’m sick” you admit when you see Ingrid standing behind you in the mirror.

“Come on I’ll make you some broth that will have you feeling good as new in no time”

“You don’t have to. I’ve taken some more medicine, I’m ok”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to and it’s what I do for the people I love”

#Ingrid Engen x reader #Ingrid Engen one shot #Ingrid Engen imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni imagine #barcelona femeni one shot #norwnt x reader #norwnt imagine #norwnt one shot

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just-aake · 5 months

Text

Thankful for You

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: You invite a mysterious red-haired stranger to join you for a Thanksgiving dinner.

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 2547

Sitting alone on a bench in some park, Natasha looks up at the sky when the sound of thunder rumbles and echoes through the trees.

Soon, she feels drops of water drip down her face as rain begins to pour all around her. She must have looked crazy to anybody who saw her, drenched from head to toe, just sitting alone in the park and staring stoically at the sky.

It didn’t matter though. There was no chance of anyone being around at this time anyway, given what day it was.

Thanksgiving Day

A time when friends and family spend time with their loved ones and express gratitude for the good things in their lives.

Natasha’s lips twitched slightly with a hint of amused resignation at the thought–the holiday defined everything that she didn’t have.

No friends – the mission in Budapest with Clint helped form a good teammate relationship, but even after other missions together, they have not reached the point where Natasha believes Clint has trusted her enough to be considered friends, and that sentiment is also returned by her.

No family – she was abandoned by her actual mother when she was a child, and as for her other temporary family, she has not tried to find any of them; though, she hoped Yelena was still alive and able to escape after Dreykov was killed.

No good thing in her life – she has been trained to be a killer her entire life, doing terrible things for others just to survive. She has always been a tool to be used. Now after recently joining Shield, she is still not sure if there will be any changes to her life that would ever be good.

There is nothing for her.

Natasha closes her eyes as she lets the rain hit her face, hoping that time will pass by quicker and end this dreadful day so that she can return to work and go on missions again.

Suddenly, the consistent sound of rainfall is interrupted by a small splash in the distance, which Natasha already deduced as a single person’s footsteps.

With her eyes still closed, Natasha’s brow twitches slightly when she realizes that the steps are coming closer to her position. However, judging based on the unhurried pace and sensing no malicious intent from them, Natasha ultimately decides there is no threat with this newcomer.

They are probably just another individual on their way to some Thanksgiving party or dinner.

Natasha is about to return to her previous mindless thoughts when the footsteps suddenly stop.

In front of her

Natasha frowns when she no longer feels the cold touch of rain falling on her. Opening her eyes in confusion, the first thing she sees is the underside of an umbrella hovering above her head.

Following the stem of the umbrella down to the hand holding it, her eyes eventually meet yours.

Standing in front of her, you give her a small smile as you hold the umbrella above the two of you, shielding both of you from the rain.

Natasha glances down at your other hand, which holds a couple of bags of what looks like drinks and snacks.

When she returns her gaze to yours with a questioning look, your smile turns sheepish, unaffected by the intimidating glint Natasha has in her expression.

“This might be weird and a bit forward,” you start before nodding your head in a particular direction, “but would you like to come back to my apartment to dry off and wait out the rain there?” you offer her gently.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

In the hallway of your apartment building, Natasha stands with her arms folded, closely observing you as you fumble to find your keys.

She is still unsure about why she accepted your offer.

Maybe it was a curiosity to understand the kind of person you are—whether genuinely generous and kind or perhaps just naive and clueless.

Or worse, you might just be offering help only to boost your own ego and feel superior; she’s met enough of those kinds of people during her brief time at Shield already.

Seeing you continue to struggle with the bags, umbrella, and keys in your hands, Natasha wordlessly extends her hand toward you in a silent offer.

You pause at the gesture, your mouth opening slightly in surprise.

“Thanks,” you say softly, accepting her offer of help.

Natasha raises an eyebrow curiously when you only hand her some of the bags, not all, just enough relief for you to find the key and open the door of your apartment.

Walking into the apartment, you leave the door open almost as if it were an invitation to her, with no pressure to accept.

She could just walk away and leave now, forgetting that she ever met you.

Again, Natasha doesn’t know why she decides to enter.

However, maybe this time, it is partially due to the fact that she is still holding some of your bags from earlier.

Once she closes the door behind her, your voice calls her from the kitchen, and when she comes closer, she sees that you are already in the process of sorting your items into their appropriate area.

Glancing up at her approach, you ask her casually.

“So what’s your name?”

In response, Natasha presses her lips in a thin line, deciding on how much she should share with you, given her new 'clean slate.'

At her hesitance, you give her an amused smile.

“You know, it doesn’t have to be your real name. I just need something to call you instead of saying, ‘Have a seat, stranger’,” you tease lightly.

Understanding your point, Natasha contemplates for a second before settling on a safe option.

“Call me Nat.”

You repeat the name a couple of times softly under your breath before nodding your head satisfied and giving her a welcoming smile.

“I’m Y/n.”

“Y/n…?” Natasha trails off in question for your last name, her instincts automatically activated to obtain as much information as possible.

You chuckle amusedly at her, going over to her to grab the bags from her hands. Turning around, you make your way back to your kitchen.

“You never gave me yours,” you point out over your shoulder.

Natasha’s eyes widen slightly, impressed at your deflection. So, you are not completely naive. She decides to initiate another conversation to learn more.

“You know, it’s pretty reckless to invite a stranger into your home,” Natasha points out as she examines your living space. It was a small apartment but comfortable for one person to live in. She can spot your personal touches throughout the area, making it feel cozy and warm.

“It’s pretty reckless to follow a stranger to their home too,” you quip back at her. “What if I was a serial killer?”

Natasha huffs in disbelief, shaking her head and crossing her arms.

“I don’t think so.”

You shrug casually as you take the remaining items out of the bag.

“You’re right. I don’t think I even have the strength to take somebody down.”

Finally finished with putting away your things, you lean back against your kitchen table, crossing your arms in a similar position as her.

“You, however, definitely look like you know how to fight,” you state plainly.

Natasha frowns skeptically at your wording, her defenses raising slightly in preparation.

Seeing her expression change defensively, you relax your posture and gesture to her body in explanation.

“Your wet clothes are sticking to your skin, and I can see your muscles and abs from here.”

Examining herself, Natasha can see what you mean. Her light clothes clinging to her skin reveal the contours of her toned body clearly.

Natasha returns her attention to you when you snap your fingers.

“That reminds me. I need to get you some dry clothes. Wait here,” you tell her.

Before Natasha can respond, you leave through another door that she assumes is your bedroom.

Natasha remains in her position, staring at where you left in confusion as she tries to figure you out.

You’re not evil or dangerous–she is certain about that. You’re also not completely clueless and blindly trusting.

And you are honest but careful. She recognizes the subtle hints of caution with your actions and words, but you don’t overtly show distrust towards her.

You give off the impression of making an effort to maintain a welcoming atmosphere with her, but Natasha can sense that this isn’t a familiar territory for you.

It feels like a door attempting to close, yet a small invisible force is working to keep it open.

She is brought out of her thoughts when you return to the room and stand in front of her.

“Here you go,” you offer some clothes to her and then point to another door behind her. “Bathroom’s right there, and there should already be some towels that you can use to dry yourself off in there.”

You tilt your head curiously when she doesn’t move.

“Thanks,” Natasha finally whispers before taking the clothes, her hand touching yours lightly. That brief touch left a lingering warmth in her hand as she headed to the bathroom.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Upon leaving the bathroom, Natasha is greeted by the beeping of the fire alarm and the sight of you standing on a chair, fervently waving a towel at the smoke alarm.

You don’t notice her presence when she quietly joins you in the kitchen, too focused on your task of silencing the annoying beeping sound.

Standing on your tiptoes to reach the smoke alarm button, the chair beneath you wobbles as you shift your balance. After finally pressing the button, you exclaim softly in victory, but the chair wobbles again, causing you to lose your balance.

Instinctively, your hands reach out for the back of the chair or table to stop your descent, but to your surprise, instead of cold furniture, you feel a warm touch.

Natasha gently holds your arms in a supportive grip, steadying you back on your feet.

“Be careful,” she cautions lightly.

When you don’t respond and just stare at her in surprise, she raises a questioning brow at you.

Shaking your head lightly to snap out of your thoughts, you give her a small, appreciative smile.

“Thanks,” you tell her before turning to look at the pot on the stove and then back to her with a sheepish expression.

“I hope you like slightly burnt mac n cheese.”

The two of you sit across each other in silence as you both eat the dinner that you made.

Natasha eats slowly, glancing at you whenever you are not looking in observation. The food tasted normal, nothing special, but for some reason, every bite she took made her feel this warmth inside.

Eventually, you break the silence with a question to her.

“So, Nat, you had any Thanksgiving plans?”

“No.”

You nod your head in understanding.

“Yeah, me too. I didn’t even plan on making anything tonight, but I thought maybe I could make you a small Thanksgiving meal. Luckily, I found some of these mac n cheese boxes in the cabinet. But if you are still hungry, there are also some chips and cookies that you can snack on.”

Natasha’s lips quirked up slightly, amused at your rambling.

Your eyes widen at the sight before pointing out happily.

“Oh! You smiled. I was hoping to cheer you up, even if just a little.”

Natasha furrows her brows curiously at your words, giving you a questioning look at what you meant.

“Why did you invite me here, Y/n?” Natasha asks.

You sit back against your chair at the question, already expecting it eventually. Playing with the bottle in your hand and spinning it on its edge in a random pattern for a moment, you finally let out a deep breath.

“To be honest, I saw you earlier today when I left. Then again, on my way home. You had the same sad expression during both times,” you admit softly before raising the bottle to your lips.

You shrug nonchalantly, saying, “I guess, something about the way you looked reminded me of myself.”

Natasha watches you take a sip as she tries to understand the meaning of your words.

Seeing her confused expression, your smile turns downward slightly as you explain.

“My parents passed away on Thanksgiving.”

You wave away her concerned gaze reassuringly.

“It happened long ago. There was a car accident on the way to a Thanksgiving gathering. I was upset at something stupid at the time like most teenagers do, so I didn’t go with them.”

You let out a regretful breath at the memory, a brief lingering sadness in your eyes before shaking your head and giving her a rueful smile.

“Typically, when this day comes around, I get too depressed to be around anyone, but when I saw you, I had a sudden thought.”

You lean forward, placing your hands on the table, and raise your eyebrows at her as you explain.

“On the day when people gather together to be happy and thankful, I thought why don’t the two sad souls also try coming together?”

At Natasha's doubtful expression, you continue your explanation.

“Maybe there’s a chance we can cheer each other up, even temporarily, and if we can’t, then we can always just be sad together.”

Natasha stares at you with wide eyes, astonished at your words. You are even more intriguing than she thought.

You give her a small smile at her reaction, turning one of your hands upward in an open invitation to her.

“What do you think, Nat? Do you feel a little bit better or should I just bring out the entire case of beer for the remainder of tonight?”

Staring at your open palm offered to her, Natasha notices the same lack of pressure to accept as before.

That’s when Natasha realizes something.

For the first time in a long while, in an unfamiliar apartment, wearing clothes that weren’t her own, and eating a slightly burnt meal prepared for her, Natasha was experiencing an unexpected sense of comfort and warmth, relieving her of the previous emotions that had weighed on her before.

All thanks to you.

And as she expected, when Natasha places her hand atop yours, she feels your warmth spreading to her through your touch.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The next morning, as you enter the living room, you are not surprised to find the empty couch, with neatly folded blankets and your clothes on the cushions – no signs of yesterday's guest.

Turning around to prepare for the day, you notice a small note on your kitchen table and, upon reading it, you smile gently.

Sorry, I left without a goodbye. I had to leave early. I wanted to let you know, compared to my original plan for this holiday, I’m glad I spent it with you. Maybe next time we meet, I can make you a meal that isn't as burnt as thanks. From one sad soul to another. – Natasha Romanoff

You say her real name out loud softly with a small smile, grateful that you took the chance to meet the mysterious stranger. Anticipation builds as you look forward to the next opportunity to see her again.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thanks for reading! I am still working on Boundless Devotion. I just got a little busy lately. Hope you all have a happy Thanksgiving!

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